''/. V"" 
 
 %. '' • >■ "*" 
 
 '•* * * * 
 
 -iS' 
 
 x\^' ^. 
 
 o> 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 \^ 
 
 •?-' 
 
 ,^^' ^ 
 
 % 
 
 "V, 
 
 
 •Jl. 
 
 
 
 ' % 
 
 <^' 
 
 \> % ^ *o^ 
 
 ^^. 
 
 I 1 
 
 .0 
 
 .^^ 
 
 y^- 
 
 
 
 
 
 <-. 
 
 
 A,1 
 
 •J- 
 
 ■^ '■ 
 
 'f-'. 
 
 .\' 
 
 
 
 
 "-'o. 
 
 
 0^' ^- 
 
 
 ■,v 
 
 ^^. 
 
 
 •^ 
 
 -^^ , \ ' « <. c 
 
 
 ' t<. 
 
 ■%. 
 
 ^<f 
 
 
 
 ,0 o^ 
 
 
 
 0. 
 
 
 \ ^ 
 
 < '' , 
 
 -O' 
 
 
 
 &■ 
 
 '-f 
 
 
 <• * 
 -^^ / 
 
 .^^ 
 
 '*, 
 
 \.<^ 
 
 
 
 v> ^^ " " f 
 
 "^^- ,^^'' 
 
 \. * 
 
 c's 
 
 ^' 
 
 ^' -% 
 
 -■^ .0^ 
 
 y '^''hmy-^ -C 
 
 
 / . . s- 
 
 .xX 
 
 .*^\~ 
 
 
 .T' 
 
 
 .0- 
 
 ^'v. 
 
 >^^' 
 
 
 .^' 
 
 
 c,- 
 
 
 
 
 v\^ 
 
 .^-' 
 
 s^^ 
 
 % 
 
 ^. ' *;, ^^■■ ^^ 
 
 O- 
 
 
 
 .^^ 
 
 V: 
 
 •J5 
 
 .0 o. 
 
 •^i- 
 
 ^^ * 
 
 
 
 -7-* 
 
 
 
 C 
 
 
 
 
 .^'' 
 
 a: 
 
 .^^ 
 
 % 
 
 <J 
 
 '^b. 
 
 
 o 0' 
 
 V- 
 
 v^ 
 
 
 ^iS• 
 
 •y^' 
 
 
 ^r. .^•^C^• 
 

 
 ^V■■ 
 
 
 .•t'^ 
 
 ,.■?-' 
 
 s^'' '., "^ 
 
 
 .0^ 
 
 
 
 v 
 
 ,0^ 
 
 
 .^^ 
 
 .,'^-- 
 
 
 xV 
 
 v\^ 
 
 A 
 
 -^ 
 
 
 
 
 V 
 
 
 l-l- 
 
 •\^' 
 
 avX^ . 
 
 .0 o^ 
 
 x-^" 
 
 
 
 
 ■^^ 
 
 -)>^ •'•>, 
 
 « ■<{., 
 
 "b 
 
 0^ 
 
 
 
 
 c5 
 
 '^c^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 '^ 
 
 <- 
 
 >t 
 
 
 ■>, 
 
 
 ,\ 
 
 S^<^ 
 
 ^or^■ 
 
 
 % 
 
 -f' 
 
 x\^ 
 
 .'«-• 
 
 
 « I » 
 
 .0- 
 
 \' '^ 
 
 ,X^' 
 
 
 V^^ 
 
 
 
 ^\^'^>^:. 
 
 
 ,-x^ 
 
 .^^ 
 
 
 
 v> 
 
 
 >^ ■''^. 
 
 
 v-^' 
 
 ,0 c 
 
 sV -/■ 
 
 ^-^ 
 
 <<■ 
 
 ■^c*.. 
 
 O^ / 
 
 .N^^' 
 
 
 V 
 
 ..^^ '''^, 
 
 .0' 
 
 
 -i- 
 
 f -X. 
 
 o\^' 
 
 
 
 
 .o- 
 
 \^ 
 
 
 o>' 
 
 N'^ 
 
 -^^ ^^ 
 
 . ..^^ 
 
 i>^" 
 
WAYS AND DAYS 
 OUT OF LONDON 
 
I#*^ 
 
WAYS AND DAYS 
 OUT OF LONDON 
 
 BY 
 AIDA RODMAN DE MILT 
 
 ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS 
 MADE BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 
 
 1910 
 
COPYKIGHT, 1910, BY 
 
 THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 
 
 Published, October, 1910 
 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 THE TEOW PRESS, NEW YOBK 
 
 C!,A2738''4 
 
TO 
 SON I A 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAQB 
 
 I. — An Introduction to Hampton Court 1 
 II. — ^The Thames from Maidenhead to 
 
 Staines 14 
 
 III. — Rainham and Rochester ... 34 
 
 IV. — Royal Ascot 57 
 
 V. — Kew Gardens and Richmond . . 67 
 
 VI. — By Coach to Guildford ... 79 
 
 VII.— Ely 102 
 
 VIII. — Cambridge 116 
 
 IX. — Stoke Poges, Burnham Beeches, 
 
 Eton, and Windsor . . . .137 
 
 X. — St. Albans 159 
 
 XI. — ^The Henley Regatta and Down the 
 
 Thames to Maidenhead . . 181 
 XII. — Epping Forest, Waltham Abbey, 
 
 Waltham Cross and Temple Bar 203 
 
 XIII. — Dulwich and Crystal Palace . 221 
 
 XIV. — Colchester 248 
 
 XV. — By River to Hampton Court . . 266 
 
 XVI. — Greenstead 284 
 
 XVII.— Greenwich . . . . . .297 
 
 XVIII. — Dunstable and Fenny Stratford . 334 
 
 XIX. — Canterbury 357 
 
 VII 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FACING 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 Putney Bridge . Frontisjnece in Color 
 
 I. — At fifteen minutes after six we entered 
 
 the Lion Gates 8 
 
 Under the trees a houseboat was moored 12 
 
 II. — A group of boatmen chatted in the 
 
 noon's hot sun 20 
 
 They must be suffragettes glorying in 
 the subjugation of man ... 24 
 
 Our first glimpse of Windsor's towers 
 seemed like a vision of Valhalla . 28 
 
 The keynote of the river is rest . 32 
 
 III. — The castle and cathedral were at Roch- 
 ester just across the Medway . 36 
 
 We caught a refreshing glimpse of 
 broad shady lawn .... 40 
 
 Children were feeding a flock of pigeons 48 
 
 Happily there was much beyond the 
 reach of their long arms . 52 
 
 IV. — We passed Staines and the train crossed 
 
 the Thames 60 
 
 They drove in beside the Royal En- 
 closure 64 
 
 V. — Who would be interested in a palace 
 when they could roam in such a gar- 
 den? 69 
 
 ix 
 
I Illustrations 
 
 KACINO 
 CHAPTEB FAQB 
 
 Wondering whether we were on Chol- 
 mondely Walk 72 
 
 Why do they carry so many extra tires? 78 
 
 The river bent Hke a silver bow . 78 
 
 VI. — Horses were changed at the Fox-and- 
 
 Hounds at Surbiton .... 88 
 
 And now we were driving down the 
 steep High Street of Guildford . . 94 
 
 We set forth to view the square keep 
 of Guildford's Castle .... 99 
 
 Vn. — The delicate curves of the carven stone 
 
 stairway leading to the organ loft 105 
 
 The beauty of the "only Gothic dome in 
 existence" 110 
 
 At the bottom of the street a canal-like 
 river proved to be the Ouse .112 
 
 The present peace is the more palpable 
 because of what has been .115 
 
 VHL— At last a market day! . . .116 
 
 Clare's bridge was set in a glory of green 124 
 
 King's gateway is more eloquent of 
 King Hal than of Edward IV . 127 
 
 We sank upon a bench where we could 
 watch the tennis-playing . . . 132 
 
 IX. — The traveler steps out of his landaulet 
 
 before a tiny ivy-smothered lodge . 138 
 From Gray the lych gate which he never 
 saw had shut us out .... 141 
 
Illustrations xi 
 
 FACINQ 
 CHAPTXR PAGE 
 
 Those hoary Burnham Beeches gnarled 
 and knotted as any rheumatic gaffer 143 
 
 To us the round tower was the most 
 triumphant feature of the whole 
 castle 152 
 
 X. — We were so fickle as to become instantly 
 enamored of sundry ancient timbered 
 houses 160 
 
 Of the abbey itself only the gateway 
 remains 166 
 
 A considerable fragment of Roman wall 
 marks the boundary of Verulam 174 
 
 " The Fighting Cocks " claims to be the 
 oldest inn in England . , .179 
 
 Across the river a row of houseboats 
 was moored to the poplar-bordered 
 shore 185 
 
 XI. — One of the boats won the race 190 
 Rafts loaded with punts returning from 
 
 Henley 196 
 
 Bisham Abbey backed by tall trees 199 
 
 XII. — Where shadows at noontide spread twi- 
 light 208 
 
 Our gropings were indirectly the means 
 of the day's most delightful dis- 
 covery 215 
 
 About the beautiful Eleanor Cross 
 clusters a village 218 
 
 We found the broad stone gate that had 
 spanned the Strand .... 220 
 
xii Illustrations 
 
 FACING 
 CHAFTEB PAQE 
 
 XIII. — White flanneled students were playing 
 
 cricket in front of the college . 230 
 
 At a place called Sydnam Wells much 
 frequented in summer . . 242 
 
 XrV. — One remains, the Balkon Gate . .251 
 
 Delightfully incongruous was a motor 
 wagon at the base of "King Cole's 
 Castle" 255 
 
 We came suddenly upon the Castle 260 
 
 The best view of the herring-bone 
 masonry 260 
 
 XV. — The Bishops' Palace might be many 
 
 miles from the roar of Bayswater Road 269 
 
 A group of poplars seemed to have come 
 forward to welcome us ... 272 
 
 Twickenham's oft-sung Ferry is not 
 doing a phenomenal business . . 276 
 
 Stately are the avenues .... 282 
 The lane dipped suddenly . . . 289 
 
 XVI. — These sturdy Saxon timbers that have 
 
 stood corner to corner a thousand years 293 
 
 XVII. — The only portion of this house of magic 
 that is brave enough to show its face 
 to the public 309 
 
 This great-hearted little fighter . 320 
 
 Our last view of Greenwich Hospital 
 was the best of all 331 
 
Illustrations xiii 
 
 FACING 
 CHAPTEB PAGE 
 
 XVIII. — ^The gateway is all that remains of the 
 
 old Priory 340 
 
 Like a slender white arrow the great 
 Roman road pointed northward 348 
 
 The deep red of a bridge took on a 
 deeper tone in its mirror, the canal 355 
 
 XIX. — We spied the Cathedral beyond Mercery 
 
 Lane 359 
 
 A swift intake of breath; and then we 
 both said "Oh!" 371 
 
 The City Wall bends outward to avoid 
 Dane John 379 
 
 The most picturesque bit of architecture 
 along the High Street .... 384 
 
AVAYS AND DAYS 
 OUT OF LONDON 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 An Introduction to Hampton Court 
 
 HAVE you been in London in May? 
 Then you know how powerful is her 
 enchantment, especially over strangers, how 
 subtle the narcosis she instils. Stimulated at 
 first by the novelty of her streets, her sounds, 
 her splendid solemn restlessness, we gradually 
 yield to her ineffable charm, her varying moods, 
 her caprices that — unlike the sparkle of Paris 
 or the sentiment of Venice — weave about us 
 silken thread by silken thread a fabric of utter 
 oblivion to all save the siren city herself. Yet 
 a time comes when the strangers emerge from 
 her thrall and memory revives of that long- 
 forgotten desire to see the land which crystal- 
 lizes in this leviathan London, sovereign city 
 of the seas. Impatient of succumbing to the 
 spell of the sorceress we strike out blindly, 
 eager to escape from what seems now a verita- 
 ble prison. But not^^dthstanding her dimin- 
 
2 Ways cmd Days Out of London 
 
 ished charm she has us still enmeshed in strands 
 that will not loosen. Continually baffled and 
 beaten back, we almost yield again, when lo! 
 the gate swings outward at a touch, and light- 
 hearted we stride forth upon the open road 
 into the infinite Beyond. 
 
 " We cannot spare more than a week to 
 London," Sonia had declared when we sat in 
 our deck chairs conning the names of places 
 which our random list stated to be indispens- 
 able. 
 
 Clovelly, Keswick, Chagford, Boston, 
 Broadway.' Don't forget Lindisfarne and 
 Malvern. I presume you have considered the 
 relative positions on the map of these desid- 
 erata? You are expecting, I infer, to explore 
 the whole of that blessed British isle in three 
 months." Thus Diana. 
 
 " I hate maps ; but I love to travel. And 
 distances are nothing in a land that is no bigger 
 than our New England. We have enough of 
 city life in New York; but we must keep our 
 promise to Miranda and go first to London. 
 Let us be very firm in our refusal if she tries 
 to persuade us to stay there more than a 
 week." 
 
 Miranda met us at Paddington, and after 
 tea she started with us on a hunt for lodgings, 
 which were found just around the corner from 
 
An Introduction to Hampton Court 3 
 
 her home and that of the Hanford-Burhams, 
 where we remained — eleven weeks! 
 
 Tourist London, we soon discovered, may 
 be seen by whomsoever is sufficiently agile and 
 eager, in a few days. The Tower, the Temple, 
 the galleries, museums, and the Abbey were 
 " done " and digested by us with a celerity and 
 thoroughness quite amazing to our English 
 friends. They had never strolled dream- 
 ily through Cheyne Walk or thrilled with 
 the memories that throng about Smithfield 
 and Tyburn. They had always intended, 
 they said, to see the Charter House some 
 day, and perhaps St. Bartholomew's the 
 Great. 
 
 " How do you girls manage to find all these 
 places?" they queried wonder ingly. 
 
 " A map, several Bobbies, and a sufficient 
 number of 'busses," was Diana's reply. 
 
 Such excursions as these they captioned 
 " sight-seeing." We gave to their term a 
 wider significance which extended to private 
 drawing-rooms, morning rides in the Row, 
 afternoon drives in the Park when the Queen's 
 carriage was to be seen. In fact, sight- 
 seeing and London were synonymous, for 
 there was always something of interest to be 
 seen. 
 
 As the bright days of early summer winged 
 
4 Ways arid Days Out of London 
 
 away, that splendid show which is London 
 during the Season — and only during the Sea- 
 son — so filled and satisfied our souls that we 
 forgot the glimpses of green uplands, silver- 
 blue streams, and flowery fields which we had 
 beheld with abundant enthusiasm in transit 
 from steamer to metropolis ; forgot that we had 
 that day deplored our promise to visit London 
 and determined to shorten the visit in order 
 that we might have leisure to enjoy the beauty 
 of England's landscape, the quaintness of her 
 tiny thatched villages, the charm of her cathe- 
 drals and castles. The geraniums and daisies 
 growing on countless window ledges in May- 
 fair; the many parks and gardens, which 
 seemed to verify the saying that nowhere in 
 London is it impossible to see something green 
 growing; even the aroma of the strawberry 
 carts heaped with ruddy fruit, far from sug- 
 gesting to us the loveliness without London, 
 but heightened her charm, benumbing our 
 spirits to the very existence of elsewhere 
 delights. 
 
 Where the pleasant little street called Red- 
 cliffe Gardens ends at the Brompton Road a 
 woman sits every day beside her cartload of 
 flowers in the shade of the corner building. 
 At first, hasting toward or from our lodgings 
 we but glanced at the massed purples, yel- 
 
An Introduction to Hampton Court 5 
 
 lows, crimson, or white, merely remarking: 
 " Pretty, aren't they? " Gradually we passed 
 more slowly. Then we lingered to admire, to 
 be tempted, to possess ; and lo ! diurnal armf uls 
 were henceforth borne home. One day our 
 prim drawing-room would be dignified by 
 bowls full of gold-brown wall flowers whose 
 velvet faces and faint fragrance suggested 
 walled gardens of which we had read and 
 heard, but had not yet seen. Another day our 
 fancy favored flame-red poppies. As the 
 weather grew warmer we reminded each other 
 that London was not the only place in Eng- 
 land which offered enjoyable qualities; but 
 such remarks made in half-hearted indiffer- 
 ence produced no greater effect than the nar- 
 ration of a dream. We gloated in the great 
 roar of traffic along Piccadilly, in the cloop 
 of hoofs on the wood-paved thoroughfares, in 
 the color and clamor by day as in the sparkle 
 and splendor by night. Yet a stimulus was 
 stirring amid the London lethargy. The flow- 
 ers in our rooms awoke thoughts of verdant 
 fields, of blossoming hedgerows, of growing 
 things. But even as we paused to discover 
 these reminders our maid was on the pavement 
 whistling for a cab whose approach tinkled a 
 merry crescendo. At Lord's an inter-univer- 
 sity game, with tea in Mrs. Somebody's tent, 
 
6 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 seemed so delightful as to be theatrically un- 
 real. 
 
 Silently, however, the leaven was becoming 
 effective. It remained for the morrow's dozens 
 of blue and yellow iris to achieve a tonic tran- 
 sition. The rare privilege of an evening at 
 home and alone supplied opportunity for sub- 
 tle influences. Sonia sat at her writing table 
 scribbling a message to a trans-oceanic INIan. 
 Diana desultorily endeavored to disentangle 
 an expense account wherein the multiplication 
 and division of pounds, shillings, and pence 
 proved somewhat disturbing. A motor bla- 
 zoned its way through the quiet street; a dog 
 barked sharply. A sudden whiff of wind dis- 
 lodged a curtain, which caught a cluster of our 
 golden iris in its uplift and scattered the flow- 
 ers about us, whereat we displayed some annoy- 
 ance. One flower had fallen on Sonia's letter ; 
 another on Diana's lap. We gathered those 
 that were on the floor and restored them all 
 to the bowl from which they had been haled. 
 Sonia brought her writing materials nearer to 
 the flowers, whose aureate glow under a lamp 
 irradiated the room. Dreamily she watched 
 Diana's hands adjusting some of the purple 
 iris among the golden blooms. A long silence 
 enveloped us as we gazed into their pure 
 hearts. The marvel of these ethereal yet 
 
An Introduction to Hanipton Court 7 
 
 stately flowers possessed our spirits, guided 
 them to green river banks where slender reeds 
 vibrated to the undulous flow of current; 
 where we heard amorous bird notes and 
 glimpsed flashes of fleeting wings, while white 
 swans floated languidly on the quiet waters 
 and the aromatic air whispered: 
 
 " Is London so fair that ye have no need 
 of me?" 
 
 Diana was the first to speak. " I accept 
 the challenge," she said. 
 
 "Were you thinking of that, too?" asked 
 Sonia. " When the iris fell on my letter it 
 seemed to say: ' I hereby challenge you to 
 come and find me; to venture out of London 
 into England.' " 
 
 What was to be done? The town had sud- 
 denly become obnoxious; we felt shackled, 
 stifled within its walls. Before crossing the 
 sea we had talked enthusiastically of moors 
 and fens, of mountains and lakes. These 
 could not yet be considered, for we were still 
 bound by our promises to London. Mrs. 
 Mawlbury's daughter was to be married to 
 an M. P. at St. George's about the middle of 
 July. Our engagement pad recorded many 
 coming events which were too pleasant to be 
 foregone, such as the Trooping of the Colors 
 to celebrate the King's birthday, a horse show 
 
8 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 at Ranelagh, polo at Hurlingham, a reception 
 at the embassy, and so on. Were there not 
 beautiful places near London which could be 
 visited on our free days? Then the silent 
 whisper of the iris insisted: 
 
 " The River; England's river." 
 
 We had seen the Thames when we crossed 
 its bridges or drove along the embankment; 
 aye, had we not seen it this very day flowing 
 muddily past the terrace of Westminster Pal- 
 ace while we were drinking tea? We were 
 capable of perceiving its charm as Whistler 
 had depicted it from Seymour Haden's win- 
 dow; yet why these delicate lily-like flowers 
 should so insistently suggest the river we were 
 unable to suppose. 
 
 To resolve is facile; to do is difficult. We 
 went to what we believed to be the fountain- 
 head of information — our dear friends who had 
 lived many years in London. Of them we 
 asked : 
 
 " What is there to see near London? " 
 
 " Riclimond, my dears; and Windsor. 
 Everybody — that is, everybody from your 
 part of the world goes there." 
 
 " We had thought of the river," tentatively 
 suggested Diana. 
 
 "They are both on the river; and so is 
 Hampton Court. We have not been to Hamp- 
 
=0 
 
 o 
 
 !» 
 
 5,i 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 =«. 
 
An Introductio7i to Hampton Court 9 
 
 ton Court in ages. If you are free this after- 
 noon, let us all go. We could stop for you at 
 five-and-twenty past three." 
 
 " Is it so near, then? Can we go by 
 boat?" 
 
 " No," with a tolerant smile. " We shall go 
 out by electric tram. You can see the river if 
 you wish from the gardens." 
 
 While Sonia and Diana were lunching to- 
 gether in their rooms they voiced wonderment 
 at so late a start. 
 
 " It is a pity," said Diana, " to lose the early 
 part of this fine afternoon." 
 
 " There is no hurry here, you know. We 
 left all that three thousand miles behind. The 
 ways of these good people must be as good 
 as ours; they have had longer opportunity to 
 perfect them." 
 
 This is how our English ladies " took " us 
 to Hampton Court: a 'bus to the High 
 Street, another to Hammersmith Broadway, 
 whence a tram ambled out to Hampton Court. 
 The route lay through a new and hideous section 
 of London rife with odors, noise and swarms 
 of unclean humans. In transit Sonia fre- 
 quently consulted her watch the while she en- 
 deavored to manifest an interest in certain 
 almshouses and other public buildings to which 
 her attention was directed. Diana discovered 
 
10 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 that she was weary of people. On Regent 
 Street and Piccadilly, even in the great cen- 
 ters, such as St. Paul's and the Bank, there had 
 been an element of charm in the strong human 
 tides. Here she saw with eyes unsealed. Was 
 there no escape? As the tram hummed along 
 its leisurely way London seemed to extend into 
 the infinite beyond. The afternoon sun smote 
 hotly upon us, as though taunting with sug- 
 gestion of its sweetness where the earth is not 
 stripped to make room for the herding of 
 humans. 
 
 Somewhat after five o'clock four women de- 
 scended from the tram, two of them with a 
 single thought — tea. The other two exchanged 
 glances eloquent of dismay. We beheld an 
 abundance of signs proclaiming the plural 
 presence of this beverage; but the English 
 ladies pronounced one place too stuffy, another 
 unclean, a third too crowded. At fifteen min- 
 utes after six we entered the Lion Gates. 
 "The palace is closed at six," said a guard; 
 " but the gardens may be seen until sun- 
 down." 
 
 Sonia looked at Diana with a shrug which 
 said: " I told you so! " 
 
 Diana's lifted brows and tightly drawn 
 mouth replied: " We must bear it patiently." 
 
 Once within the gardens, however, we felt 
 
An Introduction to Hampton Court 11 
 
 compensated for much of our disappointment. 
 Pausing to worship tall heliotrope freighted 
 with fragrance or the gay-colored blooms along 
 the borders of the Broad Walk, we forgot all 
 but the intense pleasure of the moment. A 
 background for these borders consisted of a 
 high brick wall covered with roses. Brick, 
 then, may be glorified ! Grassy vistas through 
 tall shrubbery gave a series of surprises as we 
 strolled about. Sometimes an avenue of limes 
 led to a marble Venus pedestaled among scar- 
 let geraniums. Anne Boleyn's Walk would 
 be very lovely even were the romance of that 
 sometime happy queen not added to its inter- 
 est. By some it is now called Queen Mary's 
 Bower. A pause for rest in a cool glade per- 
 fected the sensuous impression produced by 
 the loveliness of these gardens, the result of 
 centuries of artistic study. An inquisitive 
 thrush, perhaps fearful for the safety of his 
 nestlings, inspected us carefully, and then pro- 
 ceeded with his early-evening warblings. " I 
 say, you know, it really is a pity you girls can't 
 see the palace. You Americans always seem 
 to be so fond of such things," said Miss He- 
 bert. 
 
 " The outside of it is very nice," affirmed 
 Diana. " We shall come again. Where is the 
 river f 
 
12 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 " Down that way. Phyllis and I will wait 
 here until you return. Sight-seeing always 
 makes me so tired." 
 
 We paused to glance back at the warmly 
 red facade of the palace on the one hand, green 
 lanes peopled by white statues, glimpses of 
 flower groups all but hidden under shrubbery ; 
 on the other, broad lawns, black-green cedars 
 whose level lines intensified the yellow-green 
 of giant elms beyond. Hundreds of peaceable 
 middle-class people were quietly enjoying the 
 park. Following a group of these we soon 
 found the river. Under the trees on the oppo- 
 site bank a houseboat was moored. Swans 
 paddled about; in a punt a woman in blue 
 reclined among scarlet cushions while a man 
 in white flannels poled the boat leisurely up- 
 stream. We saw no golden iris; but we knew 
 that we should find it; and if there had been 
 any wavering in our previous resolve it van- 
 ished at this moment. 
 
 " You must see the Maze! " said our friends 
 when we rejoined them. They knew the 
 " key," and we followed the convolutions of 
 the cedar hedge — that had formerly been horn- 
 beam — more easily than the folk who screamed 
 laughingly for aid. 
 
 Somewhat after nine o'clock that evening 
 we sat down to the cold mutton and salad 
 
An Introduction to Hampton Court 13 
 
 which awaited our return, feeling far wiser 
 than we had been at noon. 
 
 " When M^e go to see Hampton Court," said 
 Diana, " you and I shall go alone — by which I 
 mean together. It now remains for us to 
 ascertain how we can find a way out of Lon- 
 don." 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 The Thames fro7n Maidenhead to Staines 
 
 WHERE seek for the golden thread 
 of information that would lead us 
 through this labyrinthine London into the un- 
 known region whose mysterious presence we 
 burned to discover, perhaps the more eagerly 
 because it modestly withheld all claims to con- 
 sideration, content with the great city's abso- 
 lute dominion? Perchance the breezy call of 
 incense-breathing morn had long since ceased 
 to be addressed to the town dwellers who mani- 
 festly desired not to hear it until the calendar 
 should indicate a certain date made sacred by 
 custom, and whose ears were too dulled by the 
 roar of the town to perceive a voice that could 
 not outshrill the others. 
 
 There were tourist agencies in plenty, all of 
 which displayed highly colored posters pro- 
 claiming the attractions of other lands. Of 
 
 14 
 
From Maidenhead to Staines 15 
 
 such we inquired, but learned chiefly that when 
 tickets were not to be purchased from them, 
 their " gratuitous information " was unobtain- 
 able. Diana at length glowed with an idea. 
 Not pausing to communicate it to her friend 
 she plunged into the thickest of the traffic on 
 the Edgware Road at Oxford Street and delib- 
 erately picked her way until she stood beside 
 a policeman who, with arm upraised to admon- 
 ish an unruly cabman, did not immediately 
 notice the feminine form waiting quietly at 
 his side, while the distracted Sonia hovered on 
 the curb certain of her friend's imminent de- 
 struction. 
 
 "Officer!" Diana said with a smile; "will 
 you kindly direct me to the nearest railway 
 station? " 
 
 " Underground, miss, or chube? " 
 " Something that goes out of London." 
 A fleeting smile passed across his imperturb- 
 able face ; but true to the traditions of his kind 
 he was equal to the occasion. " Paddington is 
 the nearest, miss ; that is, if you want the Great 
 Western." 
 
 " Thank you! I think that will do." She 
 tripped back to the trembling Sonia, her face 
 radiant with surety of something accomplished. 
 Wondering as to her friend's purpose, skep- 
 tical as to its probable efficacy, Sonia wisely 
 
16 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 refrained from interrogation until we alighted 
 from a cab at Paddington Station. The great 
 terminal offered no immediate assistance. 
 There were porters, trains, hurrying passen- 
 gers, and booking offices upstairs and down. 
 Diana, somewhat bewildered, was testing a 
 newly made principle : Never ask for informa- 
 tion until you have used your eyes and ears in 
 vain. She did not confess in this instance that 
 she was not entirely sure what to ask for, 
 should the proper source be disclosed. An in- 
 clined platform near the left-luggage room 
 looked hopeful. We ascended and found our- 
 selves in the lobby of a hotel. Perhaps here we 
 could find somebody who would tell us how to 
 escape from London. Some porters were 
 bringing in luggage. We saw a traveler, un- 
 doubtedly British, approach a small window 
 behind which sat a young woman who seemed 
 incapable of perceiving him. He appeared to 
 know what to do, and showed no symptom of 
 haste. We hovered about watching for oppor- 
 tunity. At length the young woman, stirred 
 from her waking dream, opened the window 
 which secluded her from the outer world just 
 sufficiently to enable her ear to catch his few 
 prayerful words whispered in prayerful atti- 
 tude. Then she closed the window with care- 
 ful deliberateness, withdrew to a far corner of 
 
From Maidenhead to Staines 17 
 
 her apartment, where she solemnly consulted a 
 ruddy-whiskered, frock-coated male and even- 
 tually reopened the window a fraction of an 
 inch, through which aperture she handed with 
 lofty condescension to the silently grateful 
 man a small paper disk in the center of which 
 were some numbers. 
 
 Supposing we had entered by mistake a 
 charity institution, we hastened away from 
 that cold-as-charity window to behold the 
 Englishman briskly entering the lift. The 
 porter waiting with his portmanteaux said to 
 him: 
 
 "What number, if you please, sir?" The 
 traveler consulted his precious disk, and we 
 knew the meaning of the pantomime we had 
 beheld. 
 
 Savory aromas had reached us from the din- 
 ing room hard by. A glimpse of the cold buffet 
 decided us to lunch here as the clock showed 
 the hour to be almost two. Sonia proceeded 
 into the room and was seated at a table before 
 she discovered that she was alone. Knowing 
 that her friend would not fail to follow, she 
 waited; and presently Diana rejoined her, both 
 hands full of small printed papers of various 
 shapes and colors. 
 
 " I saw a sign," she said, " which informed 
 me that these were gratuitous to guests, so I 
 
18 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 availed myself of the privilege. Have you 
 ordered? " 
 
 We glanced over the handbills. " What to 
 See in London " and " Visitors' Guide to Lon- 
 don " were scornfully rejected. On a tiny 
 green pamphlet which lay on the table, as yet 
 unnoticed, Sonia glimpsed a few pictured pop- 
 lars and a steamboat. 
 
 " What is that little one? " 
 
 " My dear, that is IT! " exclaimed the tri- 
 umphant Diana. " ' Combination trips on 
 G. W. R. and River Thames.' Here are doz- 
 ens of them." 
 
 At five minutes before ten on the following 
 morning we were borne out of London which 
 — like some gigantic monster having extended 
 its tentacles farther than could have been sup- 
 posed — suddenly let go, and, having passed 
 out of the city, we found ourselves gliding 
 through a landscape of surpassing loveliness 
 which gave no hint of the nearness of the oc- 
 topodian monster. The throng and tumult of 
 the town had instantly given place to broad 
 fields where poppies flamed among green oats, 
 hedgerows glowed with roses, herds of fine cat- 
 tle grazed in emerald pastures and long lines 
 or groups of English elms made us think of 
 Constable and Gainsborough. In this hour's 
 ride from London to Maidenhead there had 
 
From Maidenhead to Staines 19 
 
 been Dothing that was unlovely, nothing offen- 
 sively commonplace, but so much of beauty 
 that as the train slowed down at our station 
 we agreed that however disappointing the river 
 might be, this brief hour had been well worth 
 the difficulties we had encountered in adventur- 
 ing out from London. 
 
 Our green pamphlet stated no time of de- 
 parture from Boulter's Lock, which appeared 
 to be the landing place for Maidenhead. We 
 asked a porter and ticket collector at the sta- 
 tion, both of whom were blankly ignorant. 
 The latter was asked to direct us. 
 
 " Stright down to the bottom of this road 
 and turn to the left." 
 
 The day was warm, but we are fond of walk- 
 ing; and this sounded enticingly brief. Fear- 
 ing, however, lest boat and train make close 
 connection — the fear strengthened by several 
 cabs hurrying down the street — we hastened 
 on our way, looking vainly for bridge or river 
 ahead. A boy, when questioned, told us to 
 " turn to the right down there." A long per- 
 spective of descending street, some of whose 
 buildings appeared to be old, showed no prom- 
 ise of river. We caught flashes of photographs 
 and postcards in shop windows, but dared not 
 pause to purchase or even to admire. Our light 
 impedimenta became burdensome. At length, 
 
20 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 after a twenty-minute dash, we came to a road 
 bearing leftward at whose beginning a sign 
 directed to Boulter's Lock. In a moment the 
 river drifting between green shores rewarded 
 and refreshed us. The road led on indefinitely 
 along the bank. An inn, whose pleasant little 
 garden was filled with tables and chairs, caused 
 Diana to turn aside. At the moment she 
 stepped into the garden the landlord emerged 
 from the house. He said the boat would not 
 leave until twelve o'clock, and that the ladies 
 would be most welcome if they desired to wait 
 in the garden, from which they could see the 
 steamer when she entered the lock, and then 
 have ample time to go the short remaining dis- 
 tance. This was good news and yet ill; for 
 had we known that so much time was ours we 
 might have lingered to admire the pleasant 
 little town, and at this moment be less in need 
 of the grateful shade of the inn's garden. 
 
 A long row of punts lay quietly at the river's 
 brink. A group of boatmen chatted in the 
 noon's hot sun. The opposite shore presented 
 masses of green which induced absolute rest- 
 fulness. The graceful arches of Maidenhead's 
 stone bridge, sentineled by lofty poplars, made 
 a pleasing bit of drawing amid the color. In 
 the opposite direction were high, wooded hills, 
 the loveliest vision which had yet blessed our 
 

 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
From Maidenhead to Staines 21 
 
 town-weary eyes. So impatient were we to be 
 on the river, now that we had found it, that we 
 hired one of the ready boatmen to row us to the 
 lock. He did more than this, the time being 
 sufficient, and pulled the boat into the swift, 
 foaming outflow from the weir where it rushes 
 under an old mill, which he said was now part 
 of a private residence. He also told us that 
 the green hills which rose so high above us 
 were Taplow Wood. The village nestling on 
 the opposite shore gave to this wood its pleas- 
 ant name. In the lock now lay our steamer, 
 small, black, rather graceful. There was an 
 upper deck exposed to the sun; forward and 
 aft smaller decks were sheltered with awnings. 
 We found ample space in the bow. Immedi- 
 ately the gates swung outward the boat, with- 
 out a throb or sound, glided down the river 
 under Maidenhead's poplar-guarded bridge 
 and on into the unknown. 
 
 English gardens are as well known by name 
 to readers as are English ale and cheese. One 
 of the most charming experiences in life is to 
 vivify words. To one who has lived and moved 
 in English gardens these words become mir- 
 rors of lovely memories. Whosoever can 
 spend a summer day on England's river — for 
 the Thames is unquestionably the king of her 
 rivers even as the rose is the queen of her gar- 
 
22 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 dens — and be unimpressed with the beauty and 
 the profusion of the flowers which glow along 
 the banks has but a dull, dead soul. 
 
 Drifting silently downstream scarcely faster 
 than the leisurely current, this day was to us 
 a dream, a divine idyl as compared to the 
 many we had wasted — so we now thought — 
 in the unwholesome town. 
 
 An attendant, who had been shown our tick- 
 ets, told us we were approaching Bray, from 
 whose manor rents had been assigned by Ed- 
 ward III to his beloved Philippa. He also 
 reminded us of the famous vicar whose creed 
 had been subject to change without notice in 
 the days when England's oft-changing mon- 
 archs proclaimed the nation's religion to be 
 Catholic or Protestant. Bray Lock, like most 
 of the locks on the Thames, is dominated by 
 a keeper's tiny house smothered in gay flow- 
 ers. On Monkey Island still stands the one- 
 time playhouse of a notorious so-called " no- 
 bleman " ; the house, now used as an inn, is evi- 
 dently a popular bourne of punters on this 
 part of the river. We were discovering that 
 the keynote of the river is rest. Every villa 
 has its garden or flower-bordered lawn, which 
 extends to the brink of the stream, usually com- 
 plemented by a tiny boathouse suggestive of 
 long, lazy hours in light pleasure boats. Every 
 
From Maidenhead to Staines 23 
 
 garden or lawn is more or less shaded; and in 
 the shade are chairs and tables — such delectable 
 chairs as we had long known from Du Man- 
 ner's drawings; such well-rooted tables as 
 leave no doubt of their permanent usefulness. 
 We noticed with pleasure that the summer 
 silence was not profaned by multitudes of 
 loud-ticking, tootling motor boats. England's 
 conservatism is refreshing to pilgrims from the 
 land whose unspoken behest is: " Never be sat- 
 isfied with what you have. Seek something 
 different." 
 
 It is to be expected that where willows trail 
 their tips in the tranquil tide all should be- 
 speak peace, quietude, repose; but the homes, 
 whether humble or haughty, were equally sug- 
 gestive of the spirit of rest. 
 
 Now, indeed, " came true " our dream of iris 
 stately and tall amid trembling reeds. We said 
 but little ; yet each knew of what the other was 
 thinking. Little birds cheeping in the marshes, 
 larger birds circling in joyous chase, peopled 
 the picture with the life which nature uses to 
 enhance her inanimate loveliness. 
 
 The character of the valley through which 
 the river sinuates is ever-changing, yet always 
 beautiful. At first we were fearful as each 
 new vista became imminent lest there be ugly 
 factories, quarries, or, in our ignorance of the 
 
24 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 climate — perhaps ice houses to destroy our joy 
 and bring our spirits back with the chill of dis- 
 illusion from their present elation to the gloom 
 of disappointment. Then, as each fresh pros- 
 pect presented only fresh glimpses of fairness, 
 we forgot fear and permitted our spirits to 
 float in the full freedom of satisfaction. 
 
 Now great clusters of poplars challenged 
 attention as they dominated a foreland. There 
 is a dignity, a calm consciousness of command 
 about these trees, coupled with their splendid 
 eagerness to overtop all others and a sturdy 
 loyalty to their own kind. Who ever sees a 
 poplar alone? The frequency with which 
 groups of three occur recalls that pretty story 
 of three sisters who, having been accused by 
 Juno of murdering their brother, protested 
 their innocence until Jupiter in pity converted 
 them into trees, their arms eternally upraised 
 protesting innocence. 
 
 Again, our quiet little boat glided among 
 level fields ruddy with poppies, or lush mead- 
 ows where sheep, cattle, or horses peacefully 
 browsed through sunny hours. More often, 
 however, we passed pleasant villas whose, ivy- 
 covered garden walls secured privacy, whose 
 velvet lawns sought the river edge, whose tiny 
 boathouses were often literally covered with 
 flowers, and whose entire atmosphere was ex- 
 
BKiw**' 
 
 They must he .sujfrageiies glorying in the subjugation of man. 
 
From Maidenhead to Staines 25 
 
 pressive of the home love which is the strongest 
 characteristic of the Enghsh people. 
 
 " I wonder," whispered Sonia, " why every 
 EngHsliman is not a lyric poet? " 
 
 " Probably because the average Englishman 
 inherits more of the phlegm of his Anglo-Saxon 
 ancestors than the romantic inclinations of his 
 Norman progenitors. His consciousness of 
 lyric inspiration goes no deeper than the de- 
 sire to punt or stand all day thigh high in 
 waters casting about for a three-inch fish. 
 They— Oh!" 
 
 This exclamation was caused by a brown 
 bird who rose from the long grass in a meadow 
 on our right, fluttering as though his wings 
 were not strong enough to bear his plump little 
 body, gradually rising the while he shrilled 
 an ecstatic staccato. He described a low arc 
 and sank again into the grass as though the 
 effort had been too great. 
 
 "That must be a lark!" exclaimed Sonia, 
 her eyes big with excitement. 
 
 " I thought they always soared into the 
 sky? " averred Diana, remembering Words- 
 worth, and looking a trifle disappointed. We 
 watched this one make several futile attempts 
 to rise into the empyrean and agreed that he 
 must be very young. This was quite as satis- 
 fying as though it had been correct. 
 
26 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 The attendant came forward again to tell 
 us that the beautiful residence we were now 
 passing was that of the Dowager Duchess of 
 S 
 
 " On the Bucks side," he said, " a little far- 
 ther on you will see Boveny Church." 
 
 " Bucks? " queried Diana, after he had 
 turned away; "what is the meaning of 
 ' Bucks ' ? Oh, why did we not buy a guide 
 book in Maidenhead? " 
 
 "I think," replied Sonia; "that is what 
 they call the left bank of the river. I heard 
 somebody speak of the other as ' Barks '." 
 Diana resisted a strong impulse to pun. Later 
 we learned that Bucks is an abbreviation of 
 Buckinghamshire, and that this county is sepa- 
 rated by the Thames from Berkshire, more 
 familiarly known as ' Berks.' 
 
 Boveny Lock's keeper is a successful grower 
 of roses. All flowers in England evidently 
 grow because they are eager to do so. The 
 colors are intense, the foliage luxuriant. We 
 recalled our gardening efforts at home, the 
 fierce heat of the American sun, the long chok- 
 ing droughts of germinating time and mid- 
 summer, our delight when any blooms were 
 saved from atmospheric blight or destruction 
 by insects. Here the trees impress one as pro- 
 ducing as many leaves as can be contained in a 
 
From Maidenhead to Staines 27 
 
 given space. This is also true of the luxuriant, 
 omnipresent ivy, every leaf of which must have 
 been polished by diligent fairies. 
 
 A novel means of locomotion was evidently 
 enjoyed by two women lying at ease under 
 sunshades in a punt which was towed by a man 
 walking along the grassy bank. To us it 
 brought a smile; but the other passengers re- 
 garded it with the same stolid indifference 
 with which they beheld everything else. 
 
 " They must be suffragettes," whispered 
 Sonia, " glorying in the subjugation of that 
 monster — JNIan. ' ' 
 
 Our first glimpse of Windsor's lofty towers 
 vibrating in the noonday distance seemed like 
 a vision of Valhalla. We lost it in a bend of 
 the river, and then, follomng the " Windle 
 Shore," came to the landing at the foot of this 
 still somewhat medieval to^vn. 
 
 At the Royal Oak, near the river, the steam- 
 er's passengers were served swiftly and silently 
 with an excellent luncheon. " This has been 
 a dream day," said Sonia, whose eyes showed 
 that the dream had not yet ended. 
 
 " Probably every inch that we have traveled 
 has been teeming with history and we have 
 not kno^vn it," Diana remarked a little wist- 
 fully. " Yet I do not think anything could 
 have made my enjoyment of this wonderful 
 
28 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 morning more complete. Let us try to buy a 
 guide book before we leave Windsor." 
 
 *' To think," said Sonia, as we were now 
 emerging on the street, her glance traveling up 
 to the battlemented tower far above us; "to 
 think of actually being in Windsor and not 
 seeing more of that splendid castle. I do not 
 believe I have ever seen a real English castle. 
 Can't we take a train back to London from 
 here?" 
 
 " And see no more of this blessed river? 
 Are you weary of it so soon? " 
 
 Diana thereupon regretted that her soul was 
 not permitted simultaneously to inhabit two 
 bodies, so that one might remain to enjoy 
 Windsor while the other journeyed by river to 
 Staines. Diana sagely suggested that, being 
 possessed of but one body, Windsor be con- 
 sidered merely a stopping place for luncheon 
 on the river trip, whose name might by 
 chance have been Cricklewood or Wormwood 
 Scrubbs. 
 
 Returning to our steamer, which was diffi- 
 cult to distinguish among several similar ones 
 moored side by side, we learned that while we 
 were absent the queen had passed in a launch. 
 We ruefully accepted this disappointment; 
 the fact that things were happening elsewhere 
 than in London being borne in upon us; and 
 
Our fir.sf glimpse of Windsor s towers seemed like a 
 vision of Valhalla. 
 
From Maidenhead to Staines 29 
 
 we both felt some resentment toward the town 
 for having deprived us even of the conscious- 
 ness of exurban interest. 
 
 A group of swans loitering about Windsor 
 Lock gave to the scene that idyllic quality 
 which made it seem to partake more of dream 
 substance than of reality. Sonia watched them 
 while Diana studied her newly acquired guide 
 book during the interval before the starting 
 of the steamer. From this store of informa- 
 tion Diana announced that Maidenhead had 
 existed from very early times, her wooden 
 bridge having been one of the first across the 
 river. In 1352 Edward III incorporated a 
 guild to keep the bridge in repair. Fifty years 
 later the Duke of Surrey and the followers of 
 Richard II held the bridge against the new 
 king Henry IV and at nightfall made good 
 their retreat. 
 
 " ' In July, 1647,' " she read on, " ' a meet- 
 ing occurred between Charles I and his three 
 children at the Greyhound Inn.' (I wonder 
 if it is still there?) ' On a moated site near 
 Maidenhead Bridge once stood a residence of 
 the kings of Mercia; and still extant are the 
 remains of an abbey founded by Richard, Earl 
 of Cornwall.' " 
 
 " No wonder," said Sonia, " that we found 
 the present bridge so interesting! The asso- 
 
30 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 ciations of its vicinity have doubtless become 
 atmospheric." 
 
 " ' At Taplow,' " read Diana, " ' Ehzabeth 
 was imprisoned during the reign of her ' (af- 
 fectionate) ' sister Mary. On the straight 
 reach of the river below Taplow the annual 
 champion punt races are decided.' " 
 
 " I thought that was at Henley. Oh, no! 
 of course — the university rowing races are 
 there. I hope they, too, have not already oc- 
 curred and we can go! " 
 
 Eton's buildings are effective as seen from 
 the river beyond a broad meadow, which, our 
 book informed us, is used as a playing field. 
 We wondered if the boy patiently plying a 
 fishing pole on the landing steps were a truant 
 from scholastic pursuits. We would like to 
 have seen the " imposing aquatic display " said 
 to occur here annually on the 4th of June, the 
 birthday of King George III. Why had no- 
 body told us of it? 
 
 And now we were passing Datchet Mead 
 where Falstaff had been dumped from a 
 clothes basket into the Thames. In another 
 moment our attention was called to The Bells 
 of Ouseley Inn made famous bj^ Dickens and 
 still the haunt of ambitious anglers. 
 
 Magna Charta Island, green and peaceful, 
 conveys no hint of the hot hearts that throbbed 
 
From Maidenhead to Staines 31 
 
 there when the cruel monarch was compelled 
 to permit justice to his people. The little cot- 
 tage nestling among clustering trees is said 
 to contain a large stone on which rested that 
 momentous parchment while the barons affixed 
 their signatures. Nearly seven hundred years 
 have passed and still human hearts thrill at 
 thought of that indelible deed. Beyond lies 
 Runnymede, which looks now as it must have 
 been in the year that made it famous. On the 
 opposite side of the river is a large yew which 
 is said to have been in existence at that time. 
 
 At Belle Weir Lock the River Colne unites 
 wfth the Thames amid thickly wooded shores. 
 Although the season was late for wild iris we 
 passed groups of it from time to time dur- 
 ing the day; and here was a greater profusion 
 of the yellow than we had yet seen. 
 
 Above Windsor we had noticed the banks 
 of the river to be chiefly a succession of pretty 
 homes ; below Windsor, however, the scenery is 
 almost entirely rural. It is not surprising that 
 Englishmen love to return from the burning 
 sun of India and Africa to rest and dream be- 
 side " Sabrina's stream." Only those who can 
 look with unaccustomed eyes upon such scenes 
 can fully appreciate them. 
 
 At length the little steamer paused in mid- 
 stream and a wherry put out from shore. 
 
32 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 " This is Staines, ladies " ; and we were as- 
 sisted gently, quietly, sans haste into the small 
 boat, whose bearded oarsman pulled a few 
 leisurely strokes ere we alighted on a slide be- 
 side the Pack Horse Inn. 
 
 Here we were the only applicants for tea, 
 which was served us by a courteous old man 
 strikingly like Bohun in " You Never Can 
 Tell." We sat under an awning on the river- 
 side terrace, feeling that we must be part of 
 a book, a play. No need for words. Sonia 
 threw crumbs to clamorous sparrows and Diana 
 watched a curiously primitive method of pile 
 driving on the opposite shore, the river being 
 much wider at this point than we had hereto- 
 fore seen it, save as it passed through London. 
 The pile driving reminded her at once of Egypt 
 and May Day. The hammer was operated by 
 eight ropes, each of which was manipulated 
 by a man. Their concerted efforts lifted and 
 dropped the weight. Diana reflected that 
 labor must be cheap, and time of little value, 
 yet in her present humor she preferred this 
 pleasantly primitive method, which seemed to 
 be in keeping with all that the river had to-day 
 revealed to her. Bohun, with Chesterfieldian 
 politeness, directed us to the railway station. 
 An hour later we were in our rooms dressing 
 for " Lohengrin." En route to Covent Gar- 
 

 Si 
 
 » 
 
 o 
 
From Maidenhead to Staines 33 
 
 den the Thames seemed as remote as London 
 had seemed a few hours earher. Yet the spell 
 of London had been broken, and our enjoy- 
 ment of her delights was all the keener be- 
 cause we had wrested from her the key to her 
 postern gate. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 Rainham and Rochester 
 
 HOW dismal the geography of our school 
 days! A mere meaningless memoriz- 
 ing of names and facts whose sole interest was 
 centered in the seemingly irrelevant pictures 
 interspersed amid an arid waste of words — 
 dreary words. 
 
 England to our childhood minds suggested 
 one of two very queer-shaped islands, whose 
 ragged coasts our pencils faithfully traced in 
 a dozen wavy lines which were very black at 
 first and gradually became fainter until the 
 last one was well nigh lost in the mystery of 
 an unseen sea. Under these productions we 
 boldly inscribed in large, triumphant capitals : 
 
 THE BRITISH ISLES 
 
 Later we learned of Roman legions landing in 
 Kent; but what could we know of England 
 
 34 
 
Rainham and Rochester 35 
 
 from geography books and maps, or of Eng- 
 land's Kent from history books? 
 
 Now the mention of Kent evokes visions of 
 vast strawberry fields converging in perspect- 
 ive, as though mutely indicating the distant 
 blue line of the hills ; of climbing hop vines that 
 recall the vineyards of the South and of hooded 
 hop kilns here and there among them. Kent 
 means softly undulating farm lands affording 
 occasional glimpses of lovely dales and densely 
 wooded districts. Kent also means Canter- 
 bury bells growing in myriads along the rail- 
 way banks together with daisies and rosy 
 valerian, poppies 'mid waving " corn," young 
 orchards, hea\'y hay crops and pheasant 
 farms. 
 
 Diana discovered that her ancestors had 
 come to the New World from the little Kent- 
 ish village of Rainham, and that Rainham 
 is within forty miles of London. Having pro- 
 cured maps, railway guides, and others our 
 zest for adventuring out from London had 
 been the more whetted by the discovery of 
 ways and means to that end. 
 
 England's railway trains, which at first look 
 like pretty but impracticable toys, often de- 
 velop an astonishing speed even when they 
 are not called by fancy names, such as : Ocean- 
 Boat Non-stop or Lightning Express. Dash- 
 
36 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 ing through Kent at a sixty-mile rate we had 
 better opportunity to perceive the distant 
 landscape which circled round us than to dis- 
 tinguish the flowers we glimpsed as prolonged 
 stains of color along the banks of the railway 
 cuttings. 
 
 A river came into view, mirroring silver 
 toward the golden summer sun. Red-sailed 
 boats trailed leisurely, the reflection of their 
 sails making them seem like great birds dip- 
 ping down to the surface of the stream, which 
 gradually widened as we looked upon it. On 
 its farther shore was suddenly disclosed the 
 ivy-hung keep of a castle in ruins, beyond 
 which pointed cathedral towers rose. We 
 were eager to know what the place was and 
 resolute to see it less distantly. In another 
 moment the train stopped at Chatham, where 
 we were to change. A porter told us that we 
 would have to wait twenty-seven minutes for 
 the train to Rainham, but if the ladies cared to 
 walk to the bottom of the road, which he indi- 
 cated, they could reach their destination by 
 electric tram. The castle and cathedral we had 
 seen were at Rochester, just across the bridge 
 over the Medway. 
 
 For a moment Diana wavered in her stead- 
 fastness to the genealogical pilgrimage. Sonia 
 suggested : 
 
Co 
 
 CCl 
 
 30 
 
 o 
 o 
 
 "So 
 
 v. 
 
 O 
 ■^ 
 
Rainham and Rochester 37 
 
 " As Rainham seems so near, why not go 
 there first and learn what you can? Perhaps 
 we shall have time to see Rochester this after- 
 noon and take a late train back to London." 
 
 To the bottom of the road we accordingly 
 fared. There many tram lines met. On a post 
 were signs announcing the time of departure 
 of the next car in each direction. The excel- 
 lence of this simple system was borne in 
 upon us. 
 
 " Rochester and Frindsbury 11.40," read 
 Diana. " We can go directly from here to 
 Rochester — this afternoon." 
 
 While we awaited the tram for Rainham, 
 Sonia busily collected fragments of history 
 which Chatham and Rochester had bestirred in 
 her memory. 
 
 " Was it not from Chatham that James II 
 set forth for France when England became 
 an unsafe environment for his royal head?" 
 she asked. " Yes, now I remember. It was 
 here that Elizabeth established the dockyards 
 before the coming of the Armada; and I re- 
 member something else which I crammed so 
 tightly for an examination that I have it still. 
 * De Ruyter, having taken Sheerness, sent his 
 admiral. Van Ghent, " with seventeen sail of 
 light ships and eight fire ships," to destroy 
 Chatham. He succeeded in breaking a chain 
 
38 TV ays and Days Out of London 
 
 stretched across the Medway, and despite fire 
 from Upnor Castle burned and sunk some 
 ships. Finding the country alarmed he ' (con- 
 siderately) ' retired, carrying off a warship 
 named the Royal Charles.' " 
 
 " I believe," said Diana, whose memory for 
 history was less reliable; " that for many years 
 the ships which went out to India sailed from 
 Chatham. At any rate when Dick Mordaunt 
 and the Evans boys sailed with their regiment 
 for Calcutta they went from Chatham. I re- 
 member Kingsley's description of the depart- 
 ure." 
 
 While we were speaking, some sailors, 
 singly and in groups of two or three, came 
 up from a man of war newly anchored in 
 the river, and each had slung a little black 
 bundle over his shoulder. Every face glowed 
 with the joy of once more treading the soil of 
 the homeland. Some looked about eagerly for 
 friends; others hastened toward distant dear 
 ones. One rosy-faced young Jack met with 
 joy his pretty little wife, who was trundling 
 their baby. It was like a scene from an opera 
 where from among the bedizened supers an 
 occasional one is claimed by a woman from the 
 ranks of the chorus. Here, however, the blue 
 uniform was less spectacular, the greeting so 
 sincerely simple that we looked with misty eyes 
 
Rainham and Rochester 39 
 
 and then stumbled to the top of the tram for 
 Rainham. As it cHmbed a steep hill leading 
 out of the town we had opportunity to see how 
 large has grown this important stronghold. 
 On a hill to the north stands a fort, one of the 
 many erected for Chatham's defense of Eng- 
 land. To the south far below stretch many 
 irregular rows of pent-roofed houses whose 
 slate tops looked oddly like the skeleton of 
 some gigantic animal. 
 
 Two officers of the Royal Engineers, splen- 
 did specimens of British masculinity, who had 
 been sitting in front of us alighted at a broad 
 field on the summit of the ridge where mili- 
 tary manoeuvres appeared to be in progress. 
 We had seen with delight a windmill whose 
 slow sails recalled the beloved Netherlands; 
 and now, far away on our left, wound the blue 
 Medway through verdant pastures on her way 
 to the sea. We persuaded ourselves that the 
 hazy, low-lying land along the far horizon 
 must be the ancient Isle of Thanet, whose de- 
 fenseless shores had received frequent hordes 
 of fierce foes to whom the subjugation of the 
 feeble inhabitants of this whole land seemed 
 but a merry game in that orgy which life 
 must have been during the long days before 
 history began. 
 
 The tramway was laid beside a broad high- 
 
40 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 way which extends in unbending directness as 
 far as the sight can penetrate. At Rainham 
 the tram hne ends. Before us, high above the 
 street, rose a square-towered stone church 
 which looked as though it had been erected in 
 a time when buildings were intended long to 
 outlast the human hands that fashioned them. 
 This proved to be the parish church. We 
 tried the door, found it locked, and strolled 
 about among the graves seeking a certain 
 name inscribed on the stones, many of which 
 had long since fallen, while from the majority 
 the inscriptions were almost entirely effaced. 
 Diana searched vainly; but Sonia, to her aston- 
 ishment, found the names of some of her New 
 England ancestors. The grass was long ; many 
 graves unmarked. We paused to admire tall 
 eglantines glowing with dainty flowers, and 
 some fine old yews. Diana asked a boy where 
 the vicarage was located. 
 
 " Down there," he responded, waving his 
 arm in a general direction, which evidently in- 
 cluded the long, hot street whose uninterest- 
 ing house-fronts tempted us to remain longer 
 in the cool repose of the churchyard. We 
 went a short distance, and perceiving a door 
 in a high wall slightly ajar caught a refresh- 
 ing glimpse of broad shady laT\Tis beyond 
 which a rose arch evidently led into a garden. 
 

 ?1h 
 
 ^ 
 v 
 
 
 Si 
 
Rainha7n and Rochester 41 
 
 A woman lay in a chaise tongue under wide- 
 spreading branches. Such a contrast was this 
 to the hot, dusty street that we involuntarily 
 paused and momentarily forgot that we were 
 trespassing. A card tacked on the door caught 
 Diana's eye : " Rainham Vicarage. Ring the 
 bell." 
 
 A green-aproned carpenter answered the 
 summons and asked us to step within the wall 
 while he called the vicar. This gentleman 
 was most cordial and became enthusiastic 
 when he learned our errand. First, we must 
 meet his wife while he fetched the church 
 keys. She was recovering from an illness, and 
 he hovered over her for a moment in affection- 
 ate solicitude after he had presented us. Her 
 quiet voice and cordial hand-clasp bade us wel- 
 come. We were Americans, of course, she 
 supposed; but was it possible we had come 
 all the way from London in these white linen 
 costumes? When the vicar came to show us 
 the church and the registers Mrs. Vicar en- 
 treated us to return for luncheon with them. 
 We thanked and protested; but she said we 
 were the first real Americans she had ever met, 
 and there were so many questions she would 
 like to ask us about New York, especially its 
 overhead railway and its flatirons, that our re- 
 turn would be a great kindness to her. 
 
42 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 The vicar paused in the churchyard to show 
 us the grave of Sam Weller, whose " real " 
 name was Job Baldwin. Then we passed 
 under the pretty modern porch of the parish 
 church, which dates from the thirteenth 
 century — and whose heavy door with hand- 
 wrought iron bands and nails and beautiful 
 old lock bespoke its antiquity — into the 
 church, where the heavy hand of the restorer 
 has obliterated much that lovers of architecture 
 would fain have retained. The nave is double, 
 the side walls strengthened by heavy wooden 
 cross beams upheld by clustered rough-hewn 
 timbers. 
 
 A statue of an ancient lord of Thanet has 
 a background of red drapery painted on the 
 plaster, which was oddly suggestive of the Ital- 
 ian propensity for decorating walls with pic- 
 tured furnishings. Could some disciple of 
 Giorgione have journeyed to England and 
 thus decorated this little church? 
 
 The registers were, however, of paramount 
 interest to us. These had been carefully kept 
 since the beginning of the sixteenth century, 
 simple records of birth, baptism, marriage and 
 death. Their yellow vellum pages gave cause 
 for reverent admiration of booklovers apart 
 from the intensely human interest they stirred. 
 
 " Now, I shall leave you ladies in full pos- 
 
Rainham and Rochester 48 
 
 session. At one I shall return and bear you 
 back to the vicarage for luncheon." His com- 
 ing was punctual. Our task was finished ; and 
 after he had locked the precious volumes in a 
 safe we went out into the churchyard and so 
 on to the pleasant vicarage, where we tasted 
 the wine of truest hospitality — a hearty wel- 
 come to utter strangers. To our astonishment 
 and delight our host informed us that the tram 
 on which we had come from Chatham had 
 borne us along the edge of the Watling Street, 
 which, commencing at Dover, passed through 
 Canterbury, Rochester, and London on its 
 way to far-distant Chester. The Via Appia 
 had long since thrilled us with thoughts of the 
 days in which it was constructed ; but what was 
 a Roman road in Rome as compared to this 
 highway which had been prepared for the 
 legions of Caesar in a foreign land? We had 
 spoken often of the Watling Street and hoped 
 to include parts of it in a later pilgrimage 
 through England toward Liverpool and the 
 western world of home. To have found our- 
 selves traveling upon a portion of it was a 
 surprise fraught with that intense pleasure 
 which the unexpected alone can afford. The 
 return ride from Rainham to Chatham past 
 perfumed hay fields full of flaunting poppies, 
 the great highway on our left, and overhead 
 
> J> 
 
 44 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 the fairest of summer skies was one of enchant 
 ment. 
 
 " ' As where some buried Csesar bled, 
 quoted Diana, gazing at the ruddy stain of the 
 poppies. " I suppose this part of Kent has 
 many times been drenched with the blood of 
 human sacrifice." 
 
 Before entering Rochester the tram follows 
 high banks facing the Medway. Here and 
 there residences, surrounded with fine old trees, 
 conceal the river, but the loveliest glimpses we 
 had of this firthlike stream were caught from 
 the top of the tram, which soon bore us into 
 the High Street of Rochester, so soon, in fact, 
 that we did not believe the town with so many 
 quaint timbered houses could be Rochester 
 until a peal of soft-toned bells drew our atten- 
 tion to the towers of the cathedral directly 
 above us on the left. Through the remains of 
 an old gateway we passed into the close, and 
 pausing but a moment to deplore the zeal of 
 the restorer and the necessity for restoration 
 as displayed in the cathedral's west front, whose 
 one redeeming feature is the beautiful Norman 
 doorway, we entered the cool dusk of the north 
 transept. In the choir boyish voices had be- 
 gun to chant the evensong. Sonia entered and 
 knelt. Diana preferred to wait quietly in the 
 nave, where she caught the sound of the dis- 
 
Rainham and Rochester 45 
 
 tant voices mingling with the rich vibration of 
 the organ the while her beauty-loving spirit 
 was incited by the splendid Norman bays both 
 to rest and worship. Her thoughts dwelt upon 
 that far-reaching mission of St. Augustine 
 which caused a church to be erected in Roches- 
 ter as early as 604, when he had been in Eng- 
 land but seven years. This early wooden struc- 
 ture had been superseded by one of stone, 
 which was later incorporated with Bishop Gun- 
 dulph's building of 1077. Much of that edi- 
 fice may still be seen. When the remodeled 
 cathedral was dedicated in 1130, the king, 
 Henry I, was present. The many enlargements 
 and alterations which occurred between 1130 
 and 1479 may easily be distinguished. Henry 
 VIII evidently had a wide acquaintance with 
 the religious establishments in his kingdom 
 even though he may not have been overfre- 
 quent in his devotions. Rochester was not for- 
 gotten in his iconoclastic zeal, although it was 
 spared the utter demolition which befell so 
 many of its fellows. He " dissolved " its gov- 
 ernment and refounded it as a Cathedral 
 Church dedicated to Christ and the Virgin. 
 The Puritans, too, whose religious zeal mani- 
 fested a childish lust for destruction of beauti- 
 ful things which are not understood or appre- 
 ciated, so ill-treated this cathedral that it was 
 
46 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 described as " much delapidated and sadly 
 needing repair." Then occurred a further 
 series of renovations and restorations in which 
 the name of Sir Gilbert Scott holds a conspicu- 
 ous position. 
 
 " The choir is rather stuffy," admitted Sonia, 
 as Diana joined her there after service. While 
 waiting for a verger to take us down to the 
 crypt we idled among tombs and brasses. The 
 memorial to Charles Dickens reminded us of 
 his close association with the town of Roches- 
 ter as related in " Edwin Drood," " Pickwick," 
 and " Great Expectations." Incidentally we 
 recalled that in the " Uncommercial Traveler " 
 Chatham's dockyards were described. The 
 window inserted by the Royal Engineers in 
 memory of General Gordon and the men who 
 never came back from the Soudan and Egypt 
 stirred profound emotions. 
 
 Delicately beautiful as a piece of rare lace 
 is the Chapter House doorway. Our verger 
 returned while we stood admiring its exquisite 
 workmanship, and told us that Canon Ben- 
 ham, who had written a book on Rochester 
 Cathedral, considered this doorway second to 
 none in the world. 
 
 The verger asked if we had seen the tomb 
 of St. William of Perth, and we admitted hav- 
 ing noticed it, although we were not sure 
 
Rainham and Rochester 47 
 
 which of the shopworn monuments it was ; but 
 time was pressing and we were more interested 
 in hurrying toward the dehghts of the castle 
 which still awaited than in brasses or effigies; 
 but the verger politely pressed upon us certain 
 of his knowledge, and we were glad to have 
 submitted when we learned that William, a 
 baker of Perth, in the beginning of the thir- 
 teenth century made it his custom to give every 
 tenth loaf to the poor. This must have had 
 its difficulties, for 'prentices might at times 
 have forgotten to count — supposing they knew 
 how — or been careless. But these old stories 
 are good in the telling. The most interesting 
 thing about William, we thought, being dis- 
 passionately concerned, was that his servant, 
 who murdered William en route to the Holy 
 Land via Canterbury, chose to do so on the 
 Watling Street. For the tithe, the objective 
 point of travel and the assassination, William 
 was canonized in 1256. This was told us as 
 we stood in the pretty deanery gardens giving 
 thanks to nature for planting dainty flowers 
 in the crannied wall of the old priory. 
 
 However much we might have doubted the ^ 
 accuracy of some of the verger's carefully re- 
 cited information, the statement that Roches- 
 ter's crypt is one of the finest in England we 
 accepted with entire faith, for surely there 
 
48 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 could not be many so spacious. Its vistas of 
 low-vaulted dimly lit chambers seemed elo- 
 quent of the mystery that dwells underground. 
 
 This had been a day of unforeseen discov- 
 eries, among which the most delightful was 
 reserved for the last. As we stood in the gar- 
 dens inclosed by fragmentary walls of the cas- 
 tle save where the Medway glides silently by, 
 we forgot our fatigue in looking up on the 
 great square keep which has sturdily with- 
 stood the attacks of hostile foes as well as the 
 modern vandal's pickaxe. We sat on a bench 
 where we could look comfortably at its splen- 
 did walls and the red sails loitering in the still 
 afternoon. Children were feeding a flock of 
 pigeons, their merry voices a contrast to the 
 scenes our fancy pictured in the shadow of 
 these ancient walls. Tethered to the wall of 
 the keep, absurdly suggestive of a mimic 
 watchdog, was a tiny white donkey. While 
 Diana sought entrance to this keep, whose 
 main doorway was closed by an iron grille 
 much like the portcullis which had once pro- 
 tected it, Sonia interrogated some rosy-faced 
 children and learned that Nancy was a prize- 
 medal donkey whom they were permitted to 
 feed with carrots and occasionally to ride. 
 
 Sixpence gave us the freedom of the keep's 
 interior. A recent owner of the castle, having 
 
Children were feeding a flock of pigeons. 
 
Rainham and RocJiester 49 
 
 inherited none of the conservatism of his race, 
 desired to sell his property; but failing to find 
 a purchaser he caused it to be dismantled and 
 disposed of piecemeal. The first of the depre- 
 dations of this Kentish radical, Walker Wel- 
 don, was the removal of all the woodwork — 
 the splendid oak doors, floors, and joists — 
 which was sold to one Gimmett and incorpo- 
 rated in his new brewhouse. Followed all the 
 worked Caen stone, such as the turnings of 
 arches and the " nosing " of steps to a firm of 
 London masons who tore away all they could 
 reach. Happily there was much beyond their 
 long arms, and the arched doors on which we 
 looked upward for six stories are still very 
 beautiful tokens of early Norman workman- 
 ship. In the year 1878 Weldon offered the 
 rest of the keep to a local pavior ; but the crafty 
 prospective purchaser bethought him to test 
 the strength of these walls of Kentish ragstone 
 whose thickness was twelve feet. To his de- 
 sistance we owe it that this splendid strong- 
 hold remains. 
 
 Why are the cannon of modern warfare con- 
 sidered more destructive than the old battering 
 rams ? When it is remembered that in the time 
 of King John a portion of these walls was un- 
 dermined by his battering rams so that it fell 
 outward and carried with it a part of the outer 
 
50 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 wall into the moat there would seem to be no 
 necessity for more effectual instruments. One 
 of the dungeons remains to suggest the 
 unlovehness of the " good " old times. We 
 thought of Robert Bruce's queen lowered by 
 ropes into this pit, where for seven months 
 she dwelt in darkness and horror until the cas- 
 tle's constable, Henry de Cobham, was ordered 
 to " assign for her use a suitable room within 
 the said castle; and that the sum of twenty 
 shillings be allowed for her weekly expenses; 
 and that she be permitted at convenient times 
 to walk under safe custody within the precincts 
 of the aforesaid castle and the Priory of St. 
 Andrew." 
 
 The Romans were again recalled to us by 
 three blackened piles of a Roman bridge which 
 with some others were discovered in the river 
 bed while constructing the present bridge. 
 
 As we ascended the worn stones of the great 
 spiral stairway we thought of the clank of 
 armored knights and the occasional silken tread 
 of fair women which had long ago preceded 
 the tourists, who, conscious of intrusion in the 
 privacy of the past, yet reverently relived the 
 scenes in which their ancestors may have par- 
 ticipated. The outer windows, as we ascended, 
 gave us pleasant glimpses of the cathedral or, 
 on the other side, of the gardens and the river. 
 
Rainham and Rochester 51 
 
 Pausing to rest and to contemplate at leisure 
 the details of the great pile now peopled only 
 by pigeons, Sonia glanced through some of the 
 local guides she had procured. 
 
 " Henry the Second," said Diana, " I was 
 taught in school to believe a ' powerful ' king ; 
 but when I think on the ' local pavior ' and the 
 thickness of these walls I am more than ever 
 convinced of Henry's power by recalling that 
 he is said to have destroyed eleven hundred 
 Norman castles. How tired he must have 
 been!" 
 
 Sonia looked up from her guide books. " I 
 am trying to recall which of the Ingoldsby 
 Legends it is that begins: 
 
 * In Rochester Town 
 At the sign of the Crown.' " 
 
 " I don't know that one," said Diana, " but 
 it was on this very tower St. Bridget's Hand 
 of Glory burned every St. Mark's Eve — per- 
 haps it still does — and the saint appeared to 
 the parish clerk at Rochester while he was un- 
 trussing his points preparatory to nocturnal 
 retirement, held up that same incandescent 
 hand and compelled him to exhume the un- 
 shriven sailor who had been buried too close to 
 her saintship." 
 
52 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 "'The Rood of Gillingham was deserted; 
 the chapel of Rainham forsaken,' " quoted So- 
 nia, whose mind in childhood had received many 
 indelible impressions. 
 
 We read that this castle had been construct- 
 ed, perhaps reconstructed — the old British set- 
 tlement which the Romans called Durobrivse 
 having occupied the site of the present town 
 — by the redoubtable William of Normandy, 
 and that during the centuries immediately fol- 
 lowing the occasion at Hastings both Roches- 
 ter city and castle were frequently besieged. 
 As early as the days of Kent's independent 
 Saxon monarchy Rochester was regarded as 
 an important stronghold on the Medway. It 
 was destroyed by Ethelred, King of Mercia, 
 in 676, and by the Danes nearly two hundred 
 years later. 
 
 When Odo, the fighting Bishop of Bayeux — 
 who strove beside his brother, Duke William, 
 at Hastings, and to whom William gave 
 the reconstructed castle of Rochester — raised 
 an insurrection against William Rufus and in 
 favor of Robert of Normandy, the Conquer- 
 or's son besieged and " took " the castle and 
 forced the prelate to return to his Norman 
 town of tapestries. 
 
 Three times during the twelfth century both 
 town and castle were nearly destroyed by fire. 
 
30 
 
 o 
 >■ — -^ 
 
 v. 
 to 
 
 O 
 to 
 
 to 
 
 to 
 
 3 
 
 to 
 
 V. 
 
 to 
 
 Si, 
 
Rainham and Rochester 53 
 
 In 1215 King John gathered together at Dover 
 an army of mercenaries and marched north- 
 ward on the Wathng Street to attack Roches- 
 ter Castle which, staunchly defended by Wil- 
 liam de Albini, withstood him for three months. 
 In the next year Louis, Dauphin of France, 
 landed at Thanet in aid of the barons and again 
 the castle was " taken " ; but after his retreat 
 and the death of John it submitted once more 
 to the crown. 
 
 It is written that in 1540 " the impatient 
 though unwieldy lover Henry VIII, accompa- 
 nied by eight gentlemen of his privy chamber," 
 rode to Rochester to meet the latest bride 
 (Anne of Cleves). Alas! poor Hal. 
 
 Many kings caused the castle to be repaired 
 after its various vicissitudes. Of these the last 
 was Edward IV. In 1610 King James I 
 granted the whole estate of the castle to Sir 
 Anthony Weldon of Swanscombe, a prede- 
 cessor of Walker Weldon. 
 
 We had seen all that was to be seen of the 
 castle, and were preparing to descend the stone 
 stairs, our eyes a little blinded by the light in 
 the upper corridors from which we had just 
 emerged, when a long shrill scream from far 
 below came echoing through the great spaces. 
 So utterly had we been immersed in the past 
 that for a moment we paused and gazed at each 
 
54 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 other with wild eyes and white faces. Then 
 other screams followed in the shrill treble of 
 childish voices and we laughed, remembering 
 the children whom we had seen playing in the 
 gardens. 
 
 When we looked back at the tower on our 
 way down to the fine old water gate of the 
 castle, two Scots in scarlet coats and gay tartan 
 kilts about to enter the keep made the ivied 
 walls more picturesque than before. 
 
 Tea in a pleasant little garden back of a 
 shop on the High Street refreshed us. At the 
 foot of the esplanade a boatman had offered to 
 row us to Upnor Castle. Upon inquiry as 
 to its present state of preservation, he told us 
 that it was now used as a powder magazine. 
 This was fortunate, for the afternoon was 
 nearly gone, and we had still many things to 
 see in Rochester. There is a Crown Inn, built 
 upon the site of that in which the three shabby- 
 genteel men sat them down to " fat stubble- 
 goose, with potatoes done brown." On the 
 High Street is also the Bull Inn, whose beds 
 Mr. Alfred Jingle praised. In the Vines 
 Recreation Ground is a fragment of the old 
 city wall. Other parts remain, but we were 
 obliged to forego the pleasure of seeing them. 
 
 In the Recreation Ground that once was the 
 vineyard of the Priory of St. Andrew we had 
 
Rainham and Rochester 55 
 
 noticed the Restoration House, where Charles 
 II passed a night on his return to England 
 in 1660. Of Eastgate House, known to read- 
 ers of Edwin Drood, we saw only the exterior, 
 delightfully Tudor. Now on the High Street 
 was passed the Watt's Charity House with its 
 " quaint old door — choice little, long low lattice 
 windows and a roof of three gables." 
 
 An assiduous cabman, sagaciously perceiv- 
 ing our nationality, asked if he might drive the 
 ladies to Gad's Hill House; but upon learning 
 that it was only shown to visitors on Wednes- 
 days, the present day being Thursday and the 
 hour but little short of six, we declined the drive 
 and bought photographs of Dickens's home to 
 comfort us as best they might. The cabman, 
 nowise disgruntled by the loss of a fare, asked 
 if we would not like to see the Elizabethan 
 stairway in the Gordon Hotel, before which 
 we were standing. The time-blackened and 
 use-polished wood of this staircase would have 
 been worth a long pilgrimage, as would also 
 the fine " dog-gate " which the hotel contains, 
 and is said to be the only one in Kent. A room 
 was shown us through which James II escaped 
 when he was recaptured at Chatham. The 
 building is said to have been erected about 
 1600. 
 
 The cabman's courtesy was rewarded to the 
 
56 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 best of our ability. We were driven by him 
 across the bridge to our station. The distance 
 was short, and a tram might have conveyed us 
 far more economically; but there are times 
 when a cab is indispensable, and our apprecia- 
 tion of this brief drive was so lavishly expressed 
 that the driver's smiles and bows were not dis- 
 continued until the train for London bore us 
 from his ken and Kent. 
 
CHAPTER lY 
 
 Royal Ascot 
 
 **T> OYAL weather for Royal Ascot," 
 XV exclaimed Sonia, who is always the 
 first to pull up the clattering Venetian blinds 
 and admit the light of morning. At such 
 times she announces to Diana, who does not 
 wish to be talked to, the hour and the weather. 
 But nowhere is the weather so vital a topic as 
 in England; and it is not surprising that the 
 magazine advertisements so often concern 
 rain-proof garments. 
 
 " You must wear your smartest frocks, my 
 dears!" had been Lady Hanford-Burham's 
 parting injunction on the previous evening. 
 " At Ascot we women have our greatest oppor- 
 tunity of the whole season for the display of 
 millinery." 
 
 While Diana gave a final twist to the roses 
 in her hat, and Sonia, who had pulled a button 
 
 57 
 
58 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 off her glove, dove frantically into her sewing 
 basket for another of similar size, our maid 
 announced " her ladyship," and we descended 
 to the drawing-room. 
 
 " Where is Sir Arthur? " Diana asked. 
 
 " Oh, I say, my dears ; but it is such a disap- 
 pointment. The poor man has a horrible in- 
 fluenza and cannot possibly go with us. He 
 was so anxious to back Pillo and Louvier. But 
 he insists that we go nevertheless. I call it 
 horrid, you know, not to have a man with us. 
 What a jolly little frock you are wearing, So- 
 So!" 
 
 " My dear Di, what in the world are you 
 going to do with that mackintosh? " This to 
 Diana, who had hung a silken rain cape over 
 her arm. 
 
 " I thought it might be wiser to take — some- 
 thing. It is not so pleasant as when we woke 
 this morning." 
 
 " We shall not need anything of the sort," 
 Lady Hanford assured her. " You must not 
 spoil the effect of your pretty French finery." 
 With manifest reluctance Diana laid the 
 cape on a chair and took a fluffy parasol 
 instead. 
 
 " This looks interesting," said Sonia, as we 
 waited in the great station for the " Ascot 
 special " to be announced. Throngs of people 
 
Royal Ascot 59 
 
 congregated, all dressed in what constituted 
 their idea of fitness for the occasion. The 
 social status of the women could be instantly 
 determined by their choice of color, material 
 and style. Among the men there was great 
 dissimilarity. The gilded youth of proud line- 
 age and no chin stood with field glass slung 
 correctly over his shoulder chatting with the 
 scion of a ducal house whose thick purple lips 
 and reddened eyes gave little credit to the 
 famous ancestor who fought beside his king 
 at Crecy. Actors in plenty were assembled 
 with wholly correct attire of the sort Billy, 
 Sonia's brother, would have dubbed " noisy." 
 Of coachmen and grooms who had been ac- 
 corded a holiday we detected several. White- 
 haired, ruddy-cheeked, frock-coated M. P.'s 
 stood in friendly groups in which women flut- 
 tered pleasantly; and corpulent, ready-made 
 necktie race goers whose interest was in reve- 
 nue only stood waiting for the gates to open. 
 Everybody bought race cards and morning 
 papers in which they studied the past perform- 
 ances of the horses and picked the day's win- 
 ners. The train sped without stop to Ascot. 
 We passed Staines and caught a glimpse as 
 the train crossed the Thames of the Pack 
 Horse Hotel where we had alighted from the 
 steamer. 
 
60 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 " It is raining," announced Diana, with an 
 I-told-you-so expression. 
 
 " I," said Sonia, " am in so beatific a frame 
 of mind that I am prepared to see my finest 
 raiment draggled in the mud and splashed 
 with rain without being in the least per- 
 turbed." 
 
 The train stopped and we plunged into the 
 crowds of remarkably well-dressed men and 
 women. Everybody was intent on having a 
 good time. The platform was protected by a 
 glass roof and a long, covered passage led 
 to the race course. None of us had ever been 
 to the races before, and all were conscious of 
 a cat-in-a-strange-garret feeling. On the grass 
 beside the covered way a vast number of beg- 
 gars squatted in the rain, who promised all 
 sorts of luck to the generous. The English 
 people must be universally charitable, for in 
 every hotel, restaurant, railway station, and in 
 a multitude of other places we were confronted 
 with contribution boxes for some charitable 
 purpose. Diana threw silver and coppers to 
 all these mendicants beside the covered way to 
 the race course, laughing when they assured 
 her of being a " sure winner." 
 
 " Why do they solicit for the lifeboat serv- 
 ice? " asked Sonia. 
 
 "My dear!" replied her ladyship, "you 
 
«0 
 
 e 
 
 ,,^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 CO 
 O 
 
 
 as 
 
 
Royal Ascot 61 
 
 have no idea how those poor fellows risk their 
 lives to save the crews and passengers on 
 wrecked ships along the coast. Everybody 
 contributes to their support." 
 
 " Do you mean that they are supported by 
 charity and not by the government? " we asked 
 in amazement. 
 
 " Yes, their services are voluntary ; but I am 
 told they are well paid because everybody has 
 so much sympathy for the poor dear fellows." 
 
 We had been invited to sit in INIrs. jNIiller's 
 box ; but the custodian thereof told us that ]Mrs. 
 Miller was not expecting to be present to-day 
 and the box was already filled with some 
 friends who had come in their motor. Lady 
 Hanf ord-Burham was very much embarrassed ; 
 but we supposed ISIrs. INIiller was more gen- 
 erous than systematic, and had forgotten to 
 how many she had offered the freedom of her 
 box or else supposed its capacity to be unlim- 
 ited. To our surprise and delight we obtained 
 'without difficulty excellent places on a covered 
 stand somewhat nearer to the Royal Enclosure 
 and the judges' stand. The rain had ceased 
 and Lady Hanford took occasion to remind 
 us that we had not as yet been exposed to a 
 " single drop." 
 
 " I do wish I had thought to ask Art how 
 we could place our bets," she said. 
 
62 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 " My favorite is Silent Lady," said Sonia. 
 " It is the prettiest name of all." 
 
 " How much will you back her with? " asked 
 Diana. 
 
 " Nothing at all! " replied that young lady 
 decisively. " I am not here to gamble." 
 
 " We must find a way," declared Diana to 
 Lady Hanford, a reckless gleam in her eyes; 
 " I want to bet a sov. on Louvier. I wonder 
 how it is done? The American jockey is going 
 to ride him." 
 
 " There is a harmless-looking man in the 
 next box," volunteered Sonia, interested de- 
 spite her scruples. " Why don't you ask him 
 how to do it? " 
 
 Her ladyship, devoutly wishing that Sir Ar- 
 thur's " flu " had waited until a more conven- 
 ient time, blushingly asked the harmless-look- 
 ing man, whose gray hair inspired some confi- 
 dence, for the necessary information. 
 
 " I think," he repHed, " you will have to wire 
 to London." 
 
 " Not a bit of it," murmured Diana. '* Let 
 us go down and see what we can do here. 
 There are dozens of bookies standing there. I 
 wonder why they all are wearing gray hats. 
 What a shouting! It is as bad as the Stock 
 Exchange on a panicky morning." As usual 
 a bobby helped us out of our difficulty, and we 
 
Royal Ascot 63 
 
 had scarcely settled ourselves in our seats after 
 having boldly invested some gold pieces when 
 the royalties' approach was announced. 
 
 "Isn't it just too splendid!" Sonia whis- 
 pered, as the three royal carriages, each drawn 
 by four sleek bays, with due accompaniment of 
 postilions and outriders, advanced along the 
 emerald turf while bands played, people 
 shouted, women who had been presented made 
 their Court courtesy, and the sun broke forth 
 to make the scene still more brilliant. They 
 drove in beside the Royal Enclosure, the king 
 and queen speaking with acquaintances there- 
 in; and soon the queen's mauve dress graced 
 the front of the circular royal box, where we 
 watched her all day as assiduously as though 
 we were staunch royalists and not democratic 
 citizens of the Land of the Free. 
 
 " So-So, my dear, I fear your Silent Lady 
 has been scratched," said her ladyship, looking 
 at the bulletin. 
 
 " Now you see how wise I was to keep my 
 golden ducats," laughed Sonia. 
 
 " Here they come! " 
 
 The green of England's rolling landscape 
 was more than intensified by the gray of the 
 sky, for the sun had withdrawn again. The 
 horses flashed past the royal box with never 
 a false start, and the gay apparel of the jock- 
 
64 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 eys diminished to mere points of color in the 
 distance, vanished for a moment as the track 
 dipped, then reappeared and skimmed along 
 like birds farther away; until curving grad- 
 ually nearer and larger they approached while 
 thousands of people watched in a hush so in- 
 tense that it seemed something must break. 
 And it did. A low murmur stirred in the great 
 throng of spectators, which vibrated more 
 loudly with the horses' approach and burst 
 into shouts of excitement as the winner flashed 
 beyond his closely pressing second and the bell 
 clanged. Lady Hanford discovered with sur- 
 jDrise that she had beaten to shreds her beauti- 
 ful fan of pearl and plumes. Our favorites 
 were not in the first few races. We wanted 
 Minoru, the king's horse, to win; but he was 
 defeated. It was a day when few of the favor- 
 ites won and there were some surprises among 
 the bettors. 
 
 " I wonder if the royalties are having chicken 
 and ham, too," said Diana, as these viands were 
 set before us at luncheon. " When I suggested 
 to Mrs. Dodson this morning that we have 
 roast chicken for dinner, she said fowls are very 
 dear this week because so many had been en- 
 gaged for Ascot. So we had to compromise 
 on veal, as she seemed certain that even extrav- 
 agant Americans could not indulge in fowl 
 
S9K^ 
 
 
 W ' 
 
 "to 
 
 
 cc 
 
 
 SI 
 5^ 
 
Royal Ascot 65 
 
 under such circumstances, and I dared not dis- 
 turb her behef." 
 
 When the horses were assembhng for the 
 race in which our favorite was to run, Diana 
 was so excited she wanted to shriek hke some 
 of the women who hung over the fence rail 
 opposite, where the coaches were parked. The 
 race was a long one ; and while the little spots 
 of color skimmed across the distance she heard 
 a man who had come up from the betting ring 
 with a " sure tip " say: 
 
 " Number eleven wins." 
 
 Number eleven won by a neck and the odds 
 were six to one. So Diana and her ladyship 
 were flushed with triumph when they came back 
 chinking the gold in their purses. 
 
 There had been another shower and many, 
 of the women who had been visiting the pad- 
 dock and preferred dragging their long skirts 
 about on the wet grass to sitting unobserved 
 in a sheltered stand had ample opportunity 
 for displaying entire sang-froid, although laces 
 and chiffons were wet and muddy ; and delicate 
 shoes must have been unpleasantly moist. 
 
 " Their self-control is far more admirable 
 than their indifference to the destruction of 
 costly and beautiful dresses," said Sonia. " I 
 am sure I could not have kept my promise of 
 the morning, but should have scuttled for safety 
 
66 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 when the rain came, even if I had not seen our 
 splendid Louvier win the Gold Cup — or 
 whichever cup it was." 
 
 After the last race but one we departed and 
 succeeded in avoiding the returning throngs. 
 We enjoyed a clean and undisturbed compart- 
 ment ; moreover, we reached London in time to 
 meet Miranda at Mrs. Hallyn's " at home," 
 where we heard some pleasant music and par- 
 took of delectable ices and strawberries. 
 
 " We have laughed at some of your English 
 customs," remarked Diana; "but for beauty 
 of setting, for perfection of management in 
 every detail, for royal splendor, and for so vast 
 an aggregation of men of the sort for which 
 England is world renowned and also for women 
 whose imperturbability is as assured as the 
 valor of their lords — commend me to Royal 
 Ascot. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 Kew Gardens and Richmond 
 
 " There sits enthroned in vegetable pride 
 Imperial Kew by Thames's glittering side." 
 
 KEW GARDENS are beautiful, no doubt, 
 at all times; but surely June's glory of 
 rose and rhododendron is unrivaled. Kew is 
 every kind of a garden — formal, informal, 
 wild. There is a wonderful rock garden that 
 winds up and down through the miniature 
 Brocken, which gave Sonia more suggestions 
 than she will ever utilize. There are rose arches 
 and arbors over which riot more varieties of 
 *' climbers " than are dreamed of in our cata- 
 logues and price lists. 
 
 Dorothv Perkins is new to America, and so 
 are the tiny single roses that our florists are 
 producing as Easter novelties; but the clever 
 gardeners at Kew have long known them all. 
 Diana has a passion for yellow roses and for 
 
 67 
 
68 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 the old-fashioned mossy pink buds of her great- 
 grandmother's garden. Here she found them 
 all and here love for them grew greater than 
 before. 
 
 The glass houses contain little that we had 
 not seen elsewhere: palms, tree ferns, cacti, 
 and the wondrous Victoria Regia, not yet in 
 bloom. 
 
 But the orchids! Orchids are nature's 
 music made visible — from tenderest tones to 
 wildest Walkiirian abandon. The orchids 
 were supreme. Some stimulated vaguely like 
 the great piano concerto of Tschaikowsky or 
 a czardas of Dvorak; some seemed to dance 
 like the fairies of Mendelssohn. Others were 
 the steady, golden, sunlit tones of Mozart ; and 
 again others seemed the epitome of Beethoven's 
 cool, shadow-flecked moonlight. A certain 
 mauve variety can only be associated with love 
 music, whether of Tristan, Romeo, or Rhada- 
 mes matters not. The nightingale is the night- 
 ingale whether he sings to the rose of Persia 
 or of Portugal. To some people the orchid 
 but an orchid is ; to others it is an exotic, which 
 being expensive is desirable. A few there are 
 to whom its form and color suggest a universe 
 of ineffable spirituality, of poems unrevealed, 
 of hopes passionately impalpable. 
 
 The pond lilies of England are deprived of 
 
&5 
 
 2 
 
 
Kew Gardens and Richmond 69 
 
 their birthright; they are geruchlos. Perhaps 
 that is why our American wild violets have no 
 perfume — nature's unwritten law of compen- 
 sation. 
 
 We had come to Kew on Friday, and there- 
 fore were unable to see the interior of the pal- 
 ace. But who, as Diana inquired, would be 
 interested in a palace, especially a Georgian, 
 when they could roam in such a garden? The 
 custodian who informed us that the palace was 
 closed on Fridays added that there was not 
 much of interest in it. 
 
 " Most of the 'alls and hapartments is 
 hempty," he said. When we learned that Rob- 
 ert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, had lived here 
 we were glad we had been spared further re- 
 minders of Elizabeth's minion. It was more 
 wholesome to think of the Dutch merchant 
 who bought the palace at a later date and with 
 a recklessness worthy of royalty pulled it down 
 and erected the present building, which is still 
 called " Dutch House." The crown regained 
 it by fair means or the right of might early in 
 the eighteenth century. When poor George 
 III became demented he was housed here for 
 a time. And here died Queen Charlotte amid 
 the gardens she loved so well. During Vic- 
 toria's latter days the palace and gardens were 
 given to the people. 
 
70 Ways mid Days Out of London 
 
 The Chinese pagoda is dear to the British 
 heart; but we were not moved to enthusiasm 
 regarding it. A Chinese pagoda needs a Chi- 
 nese environment, which Martin Tupper pro- 
 vided by asserting that the old name for Kew, 
 Kai-ho, was sufficiently Chinese. 
 
 Words are too colorless to depict the splen- 
 dor of Rhododendron Dell. Even to us who 
 had been in the North Carolina mountains in 
 early June these masses of warm color-tones 
 against polished green foliage were fraught 
 with deep delight. We loitered in the wild 
 garden and congratulated the song birds on 
 their choice of summer residence. 
 
 Along Cedar Vista we came to the pretty 
 artificial lake, where among the tiny islets 
 many sorts of water fowl disported. At the 
 far end of the grassy Sion Vista the Palm 
 House glistens. The names of some parts and 
 paths in the shady Arboretum tell as much as 
 description could: Bamboo Garden, Azalea 
 Garden, Tulip Tree Avenue, Riverside Ave- 
 nue. This last extends more than half a mile, 
 from Isle worth Ferry to Brentford Ferry. 
 At the south of Kew Gardens is the Old Deer 
 Park, eight miles in circumference, which con- 
 nects with Richmond. Before leaving, how- 
 ever, we must see the American Garden. As 
 American gardens go, this can scarcely be 
 
Kew Gardens and Richmond 71 
 
 called typical; but it was pleasant to see our 
 common field and roadside flowers so treas- 
 ured. 
 
 A tram bore us quickly to Richmond, where 
 Diana insisted first of all upon finding " maids 
 of honor." The search was not a long one; 
 and in the bakeshop where we secured them 
 we obtained a " decent " luncheon. The sweet- 
 ened cheese cakes beloved of Elizabeth's hand- 
 maidens are far less delectable than some 
 others in the same shop; but loyal Sonia in- 
 sisted that they were " perfectly delicious," 
 and ate more than she wanted because impul- 
 sive Diana had, after a single mouthful, thrust 
 them aside and ordered jam tarts, murmuring 
 something about the probable deterioration of 
 maids of honor several hundred years old. 
 
 The busy Richmond of to-day is very dif- 
 ferent from the Schene where kings and queens 
 held court amid the forests that ever furnished 
 sport royal in plenty. From Syences, meaning 
 in Saxon, beautiful, in German, Schon, to 
 Schene and Sheen and on to Richmond of the 
 French-taught Tudors is not a far cry. 
 
 Edward I, who was not the first Edward to 
 reign in England, came sometimes to the 
 manor house on the river which Henry I had 
 built nearly two hundred years before. From 
 here went Richard II to his coronation; and 
 
72 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 here he brought his gentle Anne of Bohemia 
 who was destined to die here. After her death 
 the king abandoned this home of mournful 
 memories which soon fell into ruins ; and Geof- 
 frey Chaucer, who had been Clerk of the 
 Works to the palace went to Woodstock, a 
 pensioner of the crown. 
 
 Royalties have always displayed a childish 
 pleasure in razing the palaces of their prede- 
 cessors. When Edward Ill's beloved Phi- 
 lippa desired a new house, he dutifully rebuilt 
 the palace of Schene for her. Several downs 
 and ups followed before fire came unbidden 
 during the reign of Henry VII and completely 
 destroyed it. This gave Henry his chance; 
 and up went a new palace, which he named 
 Richmond, from his own earldom. Did the 
 first Tudor Henry think of the last Henry of 
 Lancaster who went forth from the halls of 
 Schene Palace to that fatal battle of St. Al- 
 ban's? And was there no prescience that ten 
 years after the building of this beautiful Gothic 
 residence his own body would be lying in state 
 in its Great HaU? 
 
 Square-faced King Hal, after having 
 wrested from his dulled tool, Wolsey, his pal- 
 ace at Hampton Court, graciously (?) per- 
 mitted him to occupy the one at Richmond and 
 royally condescended to visit him here. 
 
/ 
 
 Wondering whether we were on Cholmondeley Walk. 
 
Kew Gardens and Richmond 73 
 
 " That is what my brother Billy would call 
 ' rubbing it in,' " said Sonia. " The venge- 
 ance of royalty toward deposed favorites seems 
 to take a subhuman delight in this sort of 
 thing." 
 
 After Wolsey's death of heartbreak at his 
 lonely Esher Place Henry often visited Rich- 
 mond — a good place for deer stalking; but he 
 wearied of it, so gave it to Anne of Cleves 
 when he wearied of her. 
 
 Mary, the bloody — the brutal — imprisoned 
 her dangerous sister, Elizabeth, at Richmond 
 Palace. The dangerous sister had her day also ; 
 and here, it is said, she put her signature with 
 steady hand and cold to the death warrant of 
 her dangerous cousin, Mary of Scotland. But 
 death came also to Elizabeth, whom life had 
 cheated of all she most desired. A state barge 
 bore in splendor her shriveled corpse down the 
 Thames to London. 
 
 It was probably here that Van Dyck came 
 to paint those wonderful portraits of the chil- 
 dren of Charles I. 
 
 During the Commonwealth, when wealth 
 was not common, the palace was sold for ten 
 thousand pounds, which sum was devoted to 
 the maintenance of the Parliamentary Army. 
 The widowed queen, Henrietta Maria, was its 
 first chatelaine after resumption by the crown. 
 
74 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Of the " fourteen turrets," which much 
 adorned and " set forth the fabric of the whole 
 structure," and were a " very graceful orna- 
 ment to the whole house, being perspicuous to 
 the country round about," none remain. There 
 is an archway of red brick, over which is a 
 room said to have been that in which Elizabeth 
 died. 
 
 " I respectfully doubt that assertion," said 
 Diana, " she could not possibly have squeezed 
 her state bed into that little room, much less 
 her maids of honor and their cheese cakes. 
 Nevertheless this bit of the old palace is fairly 
 perspicuous." The arch under this room is 
 evidently a part of Henry VII's structure, for 
 his arms are to be seen on an escutcheon 
 above it. 
 
 Fronting on the river is now a modern 
 dwelling where a part of the palace once stood, 
 connecting with the cloisters of the ancient 
 Priory of Sheen that was founded by Henry 
 I. Every trace of it has disappeared, which 
 is true also of another priory established here 
 by Henry V in the year preceding Agin- 
 court. 
 
 " Syon Vista " at Kew took a new meaning 
 when we learned that at Syon on the opposite 
 side of the river was a nunnery, which, legend 
 says, was connected by a subfluvial passage 
 
Kew Gardens and Richmond 75 
 
 with the Carthusian Priory at Schene. This 
 priory evidently became corrupted by the in- 
 ertia of the Middle Ages, for we read that it 
 was several times suppressed and restored be- 
 fore its final demolition during Elizabeth's 
 reign. 
 
 " Why," asked contemplative Sonia, " is so 
 little remaining of the palace when it was here 
 in Georgian times; and the Maids of Honor 
 Row on Richmond Green was not erected until 
 the time of the first George? " 
 
 " Here's why," replied Diana, turning the 
 leaves of a guide book: "Queen Anne, who 
 had not built anything but hideous gabled 
 houses which she should have been ashamed 
 to acknowledge, was jealous of Henry VII's 
 Fourteen Turrets and therefore pulled part 
 of them down. George III, some of whose 
 teaspoons we bought in London yesterday, 
 went her one better by commanding all the 
 buildings to be removed and the ground 
 plowed up ! " 
 
 " It seems to me," grunted Sonia, " that 
 there is too much history and not enough pal- 
 ace. What else came we forth to see? Oh, 
 there is the first gazebo I ever saw! " We were 
 walking along the shady riverside and had been 
 wondering whether we were on Cholmondely 
 Walk. Set upon a wall was indeed a real 
 
76 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 gazebo — a pleasant surprise which compen- 
 sated somewhat for the sparsity of palace. 
 
 Above Riclimond Bridge is a wooded island 
 beside which were moored one or two of the 
 small black steamers that are typical of the 
 Thames. 
 
 " Why do they carry so many extra tires? " 
 Diana dreamily inquired, while she watched a 
 patient fisherman who did not get a bite. 
 
 " I must ask somebody the name of that dear 
 little island," Sonia declared. " I know it must 
 have an idyllic name." She stopped a barefoot 
 boy and his whistling. 
 
 " The /nsland? Ow, that's Heel Pie." So- 
 nia looked wounded; Diana laughed immod- 
 eratelJ^ " Twickenham Ait is another name," 
 she vouchsafed from her guide-book's lore; 
 but she dared not launch the inevitable pun 
 when she knew there would be no laugh from 
 the disgusted Sonia. Glover Island it was 
 after all; and we had yet to see Eel Pie 
 Island. 
 
 From any and every point of view Richmond 
 Bridge is a thing of beauty; and leaning on its 
 balustrade we could not determine whether the 
 view up the river or down was the more fair. 
 At the top of the bridge stairs we hired a cab 
 to take us to the terrace, not knowing how 
 near we had been to the Terrace Gardens 
 
Ob. 
 
Kew Garde7is and RicJwiond 77 
 
 which occupy the broad slope between that un- 
 rivaled terrace and the Thames. 
 
 " No wonder Scott brought poor little 
 Jeanie Deans here! " exclaimed Sonia; " hav- 
 ing seen it himself he must needs make some 
 of his pen children behold it." 
 
 " But you will recall," said Diana, " that to 
 Jeanie it meant nothing but ' braw rich feed- 
 ing for the cows.' " 
 
 The sun was low and the long shadows of 
 the trees fell athwart the emerald lawn's de- 
 cline. Like a silver bow bent the river through 
 hazy violet of the distant landscape to which 
 dipped the great azure arch, flecked with fleecy 
 cumuli. The terrace was almost deserted 
 save for a stolid nursemaid or so and a whistling 
 errand boy who turned to look at the three- 
 star view. 
 
 Our cab took us to Richmond Park where 
 we elicited the supreme scorn of a young buck 
 by pointing a camera at him, as he lay at ease 
 in the long grass near the grazing herd. Some 
 ancient oaks still rear their heads above the 
 younger trees; but many are yielding to the 
 relentless grip of age and their bare branches 
 cut rugged lines against the tender summer 
 sky. Praised be the name of John Lewis, a 
 brewer of Richmond, who sued the crown for 
 right of carriageway and won, when Princess 
 
78 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Amelia, daughter of George II, excluded the 
 pubHc from Richmond Park by building a 
 fence around it! 
 
 After tea on the terrace of the Star and Gar- 
 ter, which looks down on that same silver 
 sweep of the river, our cab brought us back 
 to Richmond Terrace, for another ravishing 
 of its glorious outlook. He directed our atten- 
 tion to Wick House, facing the terrace, which 
 had been built as a residence for Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds. 
 
 We strolled down through the Terrace G i*- 
 dens, pausing at the fountain where the Mar- 
 quis of Lansdowne's mansion once stood, and 
 coveting another tea at the tiny thatched tea 
 house that was once used as a playhouse by 
 the children of the Duke of Buccleuch. Buc- 
 cleuch House, farther down, has passed from 
 the family's possession, happily for those who 
 are now permitted to enjoy the gardens for- 
 merly surrounded by a ducal wall. A view of 
 the river from the sloping gardens was so fair 
 that we needs must linger and let it sink deep 
 in memory before seeking the inevitable train 
 for London. 
 

CHAPTER VI 
 
 By Coach to Guildford 
 
 GLANCING idly through a guide book in 
 quest of interesting places to be seen 
 near London, Sonia, who likes the suggestive- 
 ness of names, was attracted by that of Guild- 
 ford. 
 
 " Here is a place we cannot afford to miss," 
 she said, " listen! " 
 
 " ' Guildford is the capital of Surrey. It is 
 situated in that depression of the North Downs 
 through the River Wey passes.' " 
 
 " What are downs? " asked Diana, looking 
 ashamed of her ignorance. 
 
 " I had always supposed they were dunes, but 
 it says in here somewhere that they are ' softly 
 rounded hills.' Sometimes they are referred to 
 as though they were composed of chalk. May 
 I read more to you about Guildford? " 
 
 " * Alfred the Great in his will bequeathed 
 
 79 
 
80 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Guildford as a royal demesne to his nephew 
 Ethel wald.' Just think of actually seeing a 
 place that is identified with Alfred ! " 
 
 " England seems to be as replete with un- 
 expected thrills as a Wagner opera. What 
 else of Guildford, the hitherto unknown? " 
 
 " ' There may have been a Roman station 
 here. During the reign of Edward the Con- 
 fessor, Alfred the Atheling, son of Ethelred 
 II, was seized here by Godwin's men after 
 being lured from France, and his Norman 
 attendants to the number of six hundred were 
 massacred, which is believed to have formed a 
 link in the chain of events leading to Duke 
 William's invasion of England.' " 
 
 " I had always supposed," interrupted 
 Diana, " that the incendiary William came 
 over to conquer England because nothing con- 
 querable remained on his side of the Channel 
 and he wanted a change of scene and climate 
 as a sauce piquante to his pleasant and chival- 
 rous pastimes of fighting and firing. So there 
 really was a reason — a chain of events; and 
 William's Conquest was inspired by a sense of 
 duty! I believe I shall yet admire Duke Wil- 
 liam, founder of a line of kings and the Blue 
 Book." 
 
 " * The most prominent building in Guild- 
 ford is the square Norman keep of the old cas- 
 
By Coach to Guildford 81 
 
 tie, whose ivy-clad walls, ten feet in thick- 
 ness, dominate the town and can be seen for 
 many miles. Below the castle large caverns 
 in the chalk are believed to have connected 
 with the crypt under the Angel Hotel.' " 
 Sona read on, ignoring the comments of her 
 friend. 
 
 " We shall go to Guildford," announced 
 Diana. " Now we must go down to the Vic- 
 toria and book our seats for the Brighton 
 coach. That comes next." 
 
 At the hotel disappointment was hurled upon 
 us by an insolent young man who displayed the 
 petty tyranny peculiar to petty persons who 
 have attained petty power. He controlled the 
 disposing of seats for the coaches which ply 
 between London and certain nearby places. 
 We had known only of that which was driven 
 by an American millionaire to Brighton. We 
 had invited two English ladies to accompany 
 us; and now we were informed with un- 
 necessary bluntness that the Venture would 
 make but one more run, all the seats having 
 been booked weeks in advance. Thus curtly 
 were we dismissed. As Diana took up her 
 parasol which had rested on the counter, some 
 cards caught in its folds. She was about to 
 replace them when one was discovered to bear 
 the name Guildford. 
 
82 Ways and Days Out of London 
 THE RELIANCE 
 
 Guildford and London Coach 
 Leaving Victoria Hotel daily at 10.45 
 
 The autocrat admitted that there was such 
 a coach and that its daily trips would continue 
 for several weeks. We engaged four places 
 for the morrow. With the superb nonchalance 
 of his kind he accepted the guinea gold we 
 poured into his palm for the privilege of driv- 
 ing to Guildford. 
 
 " What name, please? '* 
 
 " Lady Hanford-Burham," said Diana, 
 using the name of one of our guests. The 
 effect was magical. The tyrant was trans- 
 formed to a servility so abject as to be nau- 
 seous, y 
 
 On the morrow's golden morn we set forth 
 amid a clatter of hoofs and the clear notes of 
 the guard's horn, through the throng of Pic- 
 cadilly to Kensington, across Hammersmith 
 Bridge and so once more out of London. 
 
 The box-seat having been preempted, her 
 ladyship and Sonia were assigned places on 
 the second seat and ]Miss Hebert sat with 
 Diana on the back seat beside the guard, whose 
 gold-braided coat of Lincoln green and buff 
 beaver hat made him almost as conspicuous as 
 did the notes of his long bright horn which 
 
By Coach to Guildford 83 
 
 merrily wound a way through the thorough- 
 fares. 
 
 Facing them were two men who talked of 
 horses with the guard, between them all a 
 camaraderie born of mutual interest. They 
 discussed the roan mare— off-wheeler— mak- 
 ing her second trip with the coach. The guard 
 turned to the ladies. 
 
 " I 'ope ye are not feeling nervous. There s 
 no need, for we've the best driver in England." 
 Being assured that the ladies were not in the 
 least nervous, he nodded and drew forth the 
 horn for another fanfare. The elder of the 
 two men on the opposite seat, both of whom 
 had Hstened with interest, said to Diana: 
 "Do you like coaching as well as motor- 
 
 mg^ 
 
 " That depends upon whether I am coaching 
 or motoring," she replied. " To-day I think 
 I never did anything more delightful than 
 
 this." 
 
 He twinkled after the manner of elderly 
 men when talking to children or young women. 
 His companion, ruddy, round-faced, dressed in 
 gray tweed, asked ISIiss Hebert if she knew the 
 road to Guildford. 
 
 " My home is in Cobham," he said, " I come 
 up to my office in London every day. At this 
 season I leave home about five and am back 
 
84 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 on my farm at eleven usually. I'm a farmer 
 and a countryman. Is it not so, Tom? I raise 
 shire horses." 
 
 " I suppose you are from New York," said 
 the guard to Diana, proud of his perspicacity. 
 
 " Thank you," she rephed, " for not saying 
 Boston or Chicago. Having been a New 
 Yorker for two hundred and fifty years, I like 
 to feel that I look like one." 
 
 He scarcely waited for her to finish, so eager 
 was he to tell her that he had been in New 
 York. " I drove on the coach from the Hol- 
 land House to Ardsley for two seasons. They 
 gave me a first prize and a loving cup for blow- 
 ing. Yes, you've some good 'orses. The 
 'orses on this coach were raised in America — 
 
 Argentine — by Mr. INI . He got three 
 
 blues at the show last night. Perhaps you were 
 there?" 
 
 We were now passing beyond Barnes Com- 
 mon, where among the furze many children 
 were merrily romping ; and here and there men 
 lay sleeping as they do in the London parks. 
 At Roehampton the horses were changed. All 
 the men on the coach climbed down to witness 
 this proceeding save one who sat with a woman 
 on the same seat as Sonia and Lady Hanford- 
 Burham. He, although middle-aged, was quite 
 evidently a newly made bridegroom, else surely 
 
By Coach to Guildford 85 
 
 some of the sparkle of such a day and drive 
 must have dissolved his stolid solemnity and the 
 self-absorption of this pair. 
 
 When Sonia and her companion would have 
 commiserated with their friends on the back 
 seat, they were informed that JSIiss Hebert and 
 Diana had been pleasantly conversing with 
 three strange men. 
 
 " I've a friend in Brooklyn," said the tweed- 
 clad one when the coach was rumbling on 
 again and the guard, having musically an- 
 nounced our coming to whom it might concern, 
 replaced the horn in its long basket. " He 
 comes over every year for the shooting. Does- 
 n't he, Tom? Sometimes he stops but a 
 few days; but he says one day's shooting in 
 Surrey is worth a longer journej^ Prettiest 
 county in England ; isn't it, Tom? " " Tom " 
 twinkled at the ladies. " I wonder if you hap- 
 pen to know him, miss? His name is Bates." 
 
 Diana believed not. 
 
 " Tom " said he knew a man who went out 
 to the States about thirty years ago. His 
 name was Dawlinson — Jim Dawlinson. The 
 world was so small; could the lady have made 
 his acquaintance? The lady requested the 
 name of the place in which the friend was re- 
 siding. Tom plumbed the deeps of memory 
 and announced with a double twinkle : 
 
86 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 " Springfield." 
 
 " Springfield in Ohio, Illinois, or Massachu- 
 setts? " asked Diana, wondering if she could 
 name all the States containing a Springfield. 
 
 "Eh? I do not know. Just Springfield, 
 
 miss." 
 
 We were crossing Putney Heath, a broad 
 expanse of waste land, thick with gorse and 
 bracken and evidently destined to become a 
 part of the monster city whose tentacles are 
 every year farther reaching. There was an 
 old prophecy that Hampstead would one day 
 be the center of London; and although the 
 growth is greater in that direction there are 
 indications " out Putney way " that this beau- 
 tiful heath — where Linnaus, seeing for the first 
 time the golden glory of the gorse fell to his 
 knees in thankfulness — may be seized by land 
 agents and apportioned in patches to London 
 wagemen. The gorse, which is now cultivated 
 in Sweden as carefully as the American velvet 
 plant (mullein) is in English gardens, shall 
 on Putney Heath become but a tradition. 
 
 " Over there, ladies, on Putney Hill, is 
 Bowling Green, the home of the ' heaven-born 
 statesman ' — Pitt," added Tom, seeing Diana's 
 ignorance of the sobriquet. She thought of 
 the " heavy news of Austerlitz," and said: 
 
 " I have always wished he could have with- 
 
By Coach to Guildford 87 
 
 stood that calamity and survived the decade 
 between it and Waterloo. I should like to 
 have been an Englishman when that name 
 rang through the land ! " 
 
 On our left Wimbledon Common was glid- 
 ing by, a great stretch of green touched here 
 and there with the gold of the gorse patches. 
 
 " I am so glad this is the right season for 
 gorse," said Diana. " I have always feared 
 it might not be in bloom when I should come 
 to England." The four English persons 
 laughed. 
 
 " I see you have not heard the old saying," 
 say the tweed one. " ' Kissing's out of season 
 when the gorse is out of bloom.' " 
 
 Afterwards we learned that this was once 
 one of the most dangerous of the commons out- 
 lying London. Here Jerry Avershawe dis- 
 tinguished himself as a " Knight of the Road " 
 and caused hearts to quake and purses to dis- 
 appear when post chaises came this way. In 
 the year of his majority this mock-heroic youth 
 possessed of a melodramatic fame was exe- 
 cuted on Kennington Common, where Wesley 
 and Whitefield were to preach in a later day 
 and where park-loving London has preserved 
 a breathing place of much beauty. 
 
 Kingston's antiquity is genuine but not con- 
 spicuous. Its electric tramways and heteroge- 
 
88 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 neous buildings are of to-day. Imagination 
 falters when bidden to picture the scene 
 wherein the Witanagemot proclaimed the sev- 
 eral kingdoms of the Heptarchy to be united 
 under the dominion of Egbert of Wessex in 
 the same year that the iron crown of the Lom- 
 bards was placed upon the head of his friend 
 Charlemagne. The coronation stone of the 
 Saxon kings may still be seen near Kingston's 
 market place. 
 
 " We used to change the 'orses 'ere," said 
 the guard, " but the /nnns aren't what they 
 used to be, so we go on to Surbiton." His 
 pronunciation was delightful to Diana who 
 liked the flavor of his Bow Bells inflection quite 
 as much as she admired his efforts to conceal 
 it. She was amused also at the point of view 
 which made him declare to the gentlemen oppo- 
 site that he did not see what use the trams 
 could be unless they had been designed to spoil 
 driving. 
 
 " Hello ! Johnny," he called in a hearty voice 
 to a tiny boy in the street, " 'ow's your dog 
 to-day? " 
 
 " Why don't you blow? " shrHled the httle 
 voice wistfully. 
 
 Out came the horn as we whisked around a 
 corner and we looked back upon the utter de- 
 hght glowing in the small face. 
 

 c/2 
 
 as 
 
 
 
By Coach to Guildford 89 
 
 The Fox-and-Hounds at Surbiton faces the 
 Thames, from which it is separated only by 
 the width of the road. The river here is so busy 
 as to remind one of the city's proximity, while 
 the long shady roads would proclaim it far dis- 
 tant. The inn's pleasant courtyard, gay with 
 flowers and green with vines, was bustling with 
 hostlers. On the opposite side of the river is 
 the park of Hampton Court. Diana descended 
 to photograph the coach. As the guard helped 
 her to regain her place he told her that the gen- 
 tleman in the gray tweed was a Mr. Belford 
 and that " Tom " was Mr. Sands, both wealthy 
 Surrey squires. 
 
 Esher is pleasantly situated on an upland. 
 The village is small and possesses many charms 
 for foreign eyes. Its rural quiet seems infi- 
 nitely remote from London, and indeed is 
 scarcely known save to those who have bicy- 
 cled, motored, or driven through its shady 
 highway. Moreover, it is so unpretentious 
 that cycles or motors but rarely pause long 
 enough on their way to inquire its name. 
 Here a beautiful young girl who had been lean- 
 ing on a gate watching for the coach came out 
 with blush and smile to give a rose to the guard, 
 who swung low to receive it, and no doubt said 
 something to cause the roselike blush on her 
 cheek. All day the flower glowed in his coat. 
 
90 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 The Bear at Esher is one of the old coaching 
 inns. The two pink effigies of bears on the 
 parapet announce its name unmistakably. 
 While the horses were being watered Mr. Bel- 
 ford told the ladies of a pair of boots highly 
 treasured by the landlord as having been worn 
 by the postboy who drove the fugitive Louis 
 Philippe's chaise to Claremont. Even if the 
 traveler had been as "great " as was his pon- 
 derous body, surely the postboy's boots would 
 have received no sanctification. Yet if they 
 give joy to the landlord and celebrity to his inn 
 — why not? 
 
 Sonia's attention was directed to Claremont. 
 She needed not to be reminded of Clive's asso- 
 ciation wdth the estate; and, knowing her Ma- 
 caulay, she remembered that " the peasantry of 
 Surrey looked with a mysterious horror on the 
 stately house which was rising at Claremont 
 and whispered that the great wicked lord had 
 ordered the walls to be made so thick in order 
 to keep out the devil who would one day carry 
 him away bodily." 
 
 It is said that they still tell at Esher of 
 Prince Leopold's parsimony, a habit which he 
 had brought from Saxe-Coburg when he mar- 
 ried Charlotte, daughter of the fourth George, 
 and came to live at Claremont, then a prop- 
 erty of the crown. What would England's 
 
By Coach to Guildford 91 
 
 history have been had Charlotte Hved to be 
 queen of the realm, and Leopold, instead of 
 wearing the crown of Belgium, had become 
 prince consort; and there might have been no 
 Queen Victoria ! In the little church of which 
 we caught a glimpse behind the Bear is a royal 
 pew, reminiscent of the royal pair. 
 
 At Lower Green is the picturesque en- 
 trance to Esher Place, a private park which 
 has some historic interest and a glade of ancient 
 beeches. William of Wayneflete, Bishop of 
 Winchester, erected his episcopal palace here 
 in the fifteenth century. While Wolsey bore 
 the same title he partially rebuilt Waynflete's 
 structure, shortly after the completion of 
 Hampton Court hard by. It was his archi- 
 tectural swan song and became virtually his 
 prison. Of this but little is left — only the 
 brick gatehouse. Mr. Belford told us that re- 
 cently much of the ivy had been removed from 
 the building. " An ugly place at best, I call 
 it," he said. 
 
 Said the Duke of Norfolk: 
 
 Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal; who commands 
 
 you 
 To render up the great seal presently 
 Into our hands, and to confine yourself 
 To Asher-house, my lord of Winchester's, 
 Till you hear further from his highness. 
 
92 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Then when the deposed prelate accepted his 
 doom he said: 
 
 So, farewell to the little good you bear me. 
 Farewell ! a long farewell to all my greatness ! 
 This is the state of man : To-day he puts forth 
 The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, 
 And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ; 
 The third day comes a frost, a killing frost; 
 And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
 His greatness is a-ripening — nips his root. 
 And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd. 
 Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
 This many summers in a sea of glory ; 
 But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
 At length broke under me ; and now has left me, 
 Weary and old with service, to the mercy 
 Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. 
 Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ! 
 I feel my heart new-open'd : O ! how wretched 
 Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours! 
 There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
 That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin. 
 More pangs and fears than wars or women have; 
 And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
 Never to hope again. 
 
 And again: 
 
 O Cromwell, Cromwell! 
 Had I but served my God with half the zeal 
 I serv'd my king. He would not in mine age 
 Have left me naked to mine enemies. 
 
By Coach to Guildford 93 
 
 " Now, ladies," exclaimed the guard, watch 
 in hand, as the last of Claremont's pines were 
 passing; "we start on the Fair Mile. Time 
 it if you like, sirs." The road pointed toward 
 the horizon as steadily as a Roman highway; 
 and at the end of the mile the men exchanged 
 nods and words of satisfaction at having ac- 
 complished a marvel of speed. The driver, too, 
 turned in his seat and said to the guard: " Best 
 ever! " 
 
 " Now we are coming to Cobham," said Mr. 
 Belford with the honest pride of a squire in 
 his county and town. " We have shot over 
 every rod of land about here; haven't we, 
 Tom?" 
 
 Tom twinkled. 
 
 " My friend Tom, here," continued Mr. Bel- 
 ford, " rides to hounds every day in the season. 
 You must be nearly seventy, aren't you, 
 Tom? " 
 
 " Seventy-two," amended Tom proudly. 
 
 Now and then during the morning the guard 
 had greeted children and women along the 
 road. " He is worse than any sailor," laughed 
 Mr. Belford. " He has a girl in every cot- 
 tage." 
 
 " I fancy you cannot throw many stones," 
 said Diana, who likes to read people by their 
 unconscious revelations and had observed that 
 
94 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 old and young, carters and gentlemen, sought 
 opportunity to greet him. 
 
 At the White Lion — couchant — in Cobham 
 we obtained fresh horses. While we waited a 
 motor drove up. Mr. Belford, who had been 
 standing on the inn steps, exclaimed : 
 
 " There's the wife and Harry ! " He greeted 
 them eagerly, and, glancing toward the coach, 
 evidently informed Mrs. Belford of the pres- 
 ence of Americans. She also glanced up with 
 some interest. 
 
 " I say! " said her ladyship, standing to chat 
 with Miss Hebert and Diana, " I call this 
 rather nice, you know." 
 
 " Rather," responded the English lady thus 
 addressed. Sonia and Diana exchanged radi- 
 ant glances and a few expressive gestures. 
 
 '* The wife has told me not to talk too much," 
 said Mr. Belford when he rejoined us; "I 
 wonder if all the time is too much? " 
 
 " My place is down this road on the left at 
 Stoke D'Abernon. We call it ' The Tilt,' " 
 was his reply to a question from Miss Hebert. 
 " Here is our hospital. Perhaps j^ou ladies 
 will give us a shilling toward its support? 
 Thank you! Not a penny more. The town 
 would not give us the land and we owe the hos- 
 pital to the generosity of Lady Z ." 
 
 The long, low red-roofed concrete building 
 
And 710W we were driving down the steep High Street of Guildford. 
 
By Coach to Guildford 95 
 
 above the road looked like a pleasant place in 
 which to be nursed back to health. 
 
 " That is just like him! " said Tom; " always 
 gives the credit to somebody else. James Bel- 
 ford made this hospital what it is." 
 
 " Now we are coming to my shooting," in- 
 terposed Mr. Belford in some embarrassment; 
 *' I've a caravan in those woods on the right 
 where I sleep under the pines every Saturday 
 night with the Doctor — my favorite dog." 
 
 Tom said something about the Ritz Hotel. 
 " That is what he calls my caravan," explained 
 the other. 
 
 " You would understand whv, miss," said 
 Tom, " if you should ever be invited there to a 
 hunt breakfast." 
 
 " Who's j^our trainer now? " asked the 
 guard. " Slocum? Never heard of him. 
 Where did you get him? " 
 
 " I ran across him when he was broke and 
 took him on. Best trainer I ever had." 
 
 At the Talbot in Ripley the horses were 
 halted for drink and sponging. Have you seen 
 the Horticultural Gardens here?" asked ]Mr. 
 Belford of Miss Hebert. " Your American 
 friends must be shown through. There are 
 no finer ones in England." He scribbled the 
 superintendent's name on one of his cards and 
 said they would receive every attention. 
 
96 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 And now we were driving down the steep 
 High Street of Guildford, the royal demesne 
 of Ethelwald, and preserving even unto this 
 day the charm of England's older towns. Con- 
 spicuous in the foreground was the clock on 
 the Guildhall. The coach passed a Tudor 
 building which we supposed to have been Arch- 
 bishop Abbot's Hospital for " decayed trades- 
 men and their widows." At the Lion Hotel 
 we hurried down to lunch, determined to dis- 
 pose thereof as quickly as possible, so as to 
 leave time afterwards for seeing somewhat of 
 this interesting town. We found the men of 
 the coach at a long table where places had been 
 reserved for us. The bridal couple ate in stony 
 silence at another table. 
 
 When we entered the room, the men, hav- 
 ing already begun the meal, rose until we were 
 seated — all save one. He of the box-seat, busy 
 with a slice from a cold joint, did not even 
 glance up. Diana mentally tagged him a peer 
 of the realm. Conversation was general and 
 the Reliance's driver, blonde and bronzed, sit- 
 ting at the head of the table genially engaged 
 therein. Gradually the stolid one thawed, 
 lifted his empurpled visage, and adjusted his 
 monocle. He was the type of Briton who on 
 the stage is always made to stroke his mustache 
 and exclaim: "Haw!" The luncheon was 
 
By Coach to Guildford 97 
 
 good, the conversation delightful; but Sonia 
 and Diana withdrew as soon as they could. 
 Wishing to save later hurry they stopped to 
 pay the hotel charges and were told there were 
 none. 
 
 " I do not understand," said Diana. 
 
 " Mr. Belford has i:)aid for your party," was 
 the smiling rejoinder. This was embarrassing, 
 but its intent we knew to be most kind and hos- 
 pitable ; and later we sought an opportunity to 
 thank him. 
 
 Now we had but a short time in which to 
 see the things we could not forego, and accord- 
 ingly set forth to view the square keep of 
 Guildford's castle at a pace which evidently 
 startled from their noontide siesta the citizens 
 peacefully resting in the castle's garden. This 
 keep is smaller and somewhat less imposing 
 than that of Rochester; but as no two cathe- 
 drals are wholly alike, so, we were learning, are 
 no two of England's ruined castles entirely 
 similar. We had no time to dawdle and dream 
 here as we did at Rochester; but we had seen 
 enough to convince us that Guildford is worthy 
 of a much longer visit. 
 
 Happily St. Mary's Church was open. Af- 
 ter marveling at its crude yet enduring con- 
 struction of chalk and flint, we entered the 
 quiet little building and wondered if the curi- 
 
98 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 ous old paintings which decorate the Baptist's 
 chapel were, as we had read, from the hand of 
 William of Florence during the middle of the 
 thirteenth century. The bizarre carvings of 
 the roof we liked because they tokened the 
 humorous, though grotesque fancy of the Nor- 
 man sculptors. 
 
 Mr. Belford had told us of the cattle and 
 horse market held in Guildford semi-annually, 
 also of the lamb fair on Tuesdays from Easter 
 to Whitsuntide. The ordinary " corn " market 
 is held on Saturdays. 
 
 " The next time we go to a market to^vn, do 
 let us try to be there on market day! I have 
 never seen an English market, and I am sure 
 Covent Garden cannot be half so nice as one 
 of these little country towns." Thus the en- 
 thusiastic Sonia. 
 
 There are other churches in Guildford said 
 to be worthy a visit from the lover of the 
 past. 
 
 We had never seen a chained library and had 
 rather vague notions as to what it might be. 
 There being still a quarter of an hour before 
 the starting of the Reliance we went to the 
 grammar school, but were unable to obtain ad- 
 mission. A photograph of the library pro- 
 vided but slight compensation ; for surely books 
 so precious as to be thus safeguarded must be 
 

 §^ 
 
 3 
 
 =0 ' 
 
By Coach to Guildford 99 
 
 indeed a feast for lovers of rare editions, like 
 ourselves. 
 
 " My only consolation in leaving this fasci- 
 nating royal demesne," said Diana, " when we 
 have but begun to explore it, is that we may 
 include it in our list of geographical friendships 
 and anticipate visiting it again in the near 
 future. Who loves an acquaintance who has 
 no reserves and become familiar during a few 
 hours? " 
 
 The River Wey with its " handsome stone 
 bridge of five arches " ; St. Catherine's Hall, 
 across the bridge where, having leisurely as- 
 cended, the wide view might be enjoyed — say, 
 at sundown — after the little ruined chapel on 
 its summit had been inspected; these were 
 among friend Guildford's reserves. 
 
 Nearby were Elizabethan mansions, Nor- 
 man churches, literary and artistic pilgrimages, 
 all serenely reposing in the beauty of Surrey's 
 North Downs. 
 
 There was a bustle of activity in front of the 
 Lion Hotel; the smiling guard, in whose coat 
 still glowed the maid of Esher's rose, waited 
 to assist us to our places; the English ladies, 
 our neglected, but also smiling guests, compli- 
 mented our punctuality and as three deep 
 notes sounded from the town clock we set forth 
 for London. At Cobham the monocled box- 
 
100 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 sitter alighted and after discussing the horses 
 being put to the coach, drove off in a dog cart. 
 As Sonia took his place she asked the driver 
 if he were a — personage. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, miss ; he is M. F. H. for this 
 district." Sonia wondered whether the initials 
 indicated " Member from Hurlingham " or 
 " Monocle Fixed Habit." Lady Hanford- 
 Burham leaned forward and whispered: 
 " Master of the Fox Hounds, you know." 
 
 Here also Mr. Belford and his friend Tom 
 left us. 
 
 There were still a few thrills in reserve for 
 Sonia before the day ended. Back in London, 
 as we were passing Olympia, where motors, 
 coaches, and cabs were bearing away the dis- 
 persing horse-show audience the Reliance was 
 pulled up at a signal from a distinguished-look- 
 ing man in a motor. " Mr. Cowles, who had 
 tooled so skillfully all day, gave his lines to the 
 newcomer and literally took a back seat. The 
 horses, sensitive to the hand which controlled 
 them, instantly felt the difference. Mr. 
 Cowles's calm Anglo-Saxon control had been 
 replaced by the nervous grasp of a southron. 
 
 Never had Piccadilly sparkled more bril- 
 liantly than on this summer evening. The 
 police directed vrith perfect ease the four steady 
 lines of traffic in each direction. Several times 
 
By Coach to Guildford 101 
 
 our coach was obliged to come to a stop and 
 each time Soma's heart leaped lest the halt be 
 too late to save the horses from injury. Mr. 
 Cowles had told her that their owner, who was 
 now driving, required that the coach return to 
 the Victoria punctually if the horses were 
 killed in order to accomplish it. Sonia at the 
 moment was not sufficiently logical to realize 
 that if the horses were killed in the attempt, 
 there would be less probability of punctuality. 
 To the golden, triumphant notes of the horn 
 we drew rein at the hotel precisely at the ap- 
 pointed moment. 
 
s^S^SJ^ 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Ely 
 
 ELY is not for the map swallower who, 
 bound Scotland ward while " doing " 
 Great Britain, stops off at Lincoln or pauses at 
 York long enough to catch his breath — and 
 lose it. Ely is for the dilettante who, on his 
 first " grand tour," has wolfed a few cathedral 
 towns which lay along the prescribed route 
 and bolted such dry necessities as Stratford- 
 on-Avon or Glasgow where the speed limit has 
 not yet been determined, and who, having dis- 
 covered the charm of travel sans itinerary 
 craves a more leisurely repast of sight-seeing 
 and forsakes the highways to invite his soul far 
 from the dust and din. 
 
 We were unhurried. Our comfortable Lon- 
 don lodgings to which we might return when- 
 soever we chose as to a home made bj^-ay ad- 
 venturings the more enjoyable because we were 
 
 102 
 
Ely 103 
 
 spared the possible discomforts of chance inns ; 
 and to travel minus " boxes " is to travel in 
 comfort. 
 
 For once, however, we deemed it wiser to 
 remain overnight, Ely and Cambridge being 
 but a few miles apart, and neither could be 
 swallowed whole in a few hours even by the 
 most voracious of ostrich- Americans. 
 
 Thanks to our ignorance of Inner Circle 
 and Outer Circle accommodations in London's 
 Underground Railway, we had waited at ]Man- 
 sion House Station so long as to lose the mid- 
 morning train for Ely, which place we could 
 not now reach until after noon. While we 
 waited at the Great Eastern terminal Diana 
 bethought her of certain signs we had seen in 
 the railway carriages and asked a pink-cheeked 
 policeman how we could obtain a luncheon 
 basket. He said we might wire ahead — or the 
 guard on the train would do so for us — and 
 the basket would be ready for us at any station 
 we chose. We were only going to Ely ? Then 
 we might step into the station restaurant at 
 the bottom of this platform and order a bas- 
 ket put into our carriage. We glanced over 
 the tariff shown us bv the restaurant's bewhis- 
 kered head waiter and ordered a basket for two 
 at half a croMTi each, very skeptical as to its 
 probable contents. Scarcely were we seated in 
 
104 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 a brown-cushioned third-class carriage — our 
 handbags tenderly placed in the rack by a 
 porter — and asking of each other why any- 
 body rode first class when the only discover- 
 able difference other than price was — to us 
 as yet — merely in the color of the upholstery, 
 behold a cheery boy bearing a willow hamper 
 which he knew by some unimaginable instinct 
 was ours. While the train bore us out of the 
 grime of London into the green of England 
 we proclaimed the luncheon basket's con- 
 tents to be a Lucullus feast. The compart- 
 ment in which we rode had been locked by 
 the guard and we enjoyed our easily obtained 
 privacy. 
 
 " It would seem," said Diana, meditatively 
 dismembering her portion of chicken, at which 
 she only glanced occasionally to prevent its 
 slipping from the plate — " it would seem to me 
 that the Normans, whom I had always believed 
 to be only fighters, did nothing but build 
 churches and castles. Did you notice the little 
 square-towered church over there among the 
 trees?" 
 
 " They went out now and then to a hack- 
 fest when they wished to assert their capacity 
 to conquer or perhaps merely to keep their 
 weapons from the rust of disuse; and when 
 they were tired or there was nothing left of 
 
rf" 
 
 The delicate curves of the carven stone stairway leading to the organ loft. 
 
My 105 
 
 the enemy but the space it occupied they built 
 churches to the glory of God as atonement for 
 such trifling offenses as burning, looting, and 
 so forth which might have been committed dur- 
 ing said hackfest. The loot was so rich they 
 had to build castles to contain it." 
 
 " If I had been a British subject in those 
 days, I should have quietly folded my tents and 
 moved into Normandy. It must have been 
 depopulated after 1066; and surely England 
 was overcrowded." 
 
 The town of Ely exists mainly because of its 
 cathedral. And like many of England's ca- 
 thedrals this one stands upon a commanding 
 hill, one of the few in the fenlands of Cam- 
 bridgeshire. 
 
 A summer shower had overtaken us. We 
 had not been sufficiently forethoughtful as to 
 determine upon an inn. The only 'bus at the 
 station appertained to the " Bell," and as the 
 vehicle's appearance commended the inn's 
 management, we yielded our handbags to the 
 polite solicitations of the Bell's " boots." Up 
 a steep narrow street we were borne, past many 
 houses of old plaster and age-blackened beams 
 to pause at length before the plain front of the 
 Bell, whose window ledges bore boxes of 
 geraniums in bloom. We engaged an " apart- 
 ment," declined luncheon and, as rain was still 
 
106 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 falling heavily, the 'bus bore us the short re- 
 maining distance to the cathedral. 
 
 Trusting that we might later have an oppor- 
 tunity for more than a glance at the exterior, 
 we hastened into the Gallilee porch at the 
 west end. 
 
 " I wish," said Sonia, pensively regarding 
 the porch's details, " that restoration need not 
 be so patent or so complete. Almost would I 
 prefer crumbling ruins like Rome or Karnak, 
 which permit some play to imagination, to this 
 painstaken patchwork of Sir Gilbert — or was 
 it Sir Christopher? — which tells the whole story 
 without the charm of personality." 
 
 " Evidently the people of England do not 
 share your preference," Diana returned. 
 " This lancet decoration really is beautiful." 
 
 The high Norman windows of clerestory 
 and triforium but emphasize the great height 
 and narrowness of the nave which is unlighted 
 below and seemed to us coldly austere. Per- 
 haps had the sun streamed in through the lofty 
 arches the effect would have been pleasanter. 
 
 After Rochester the dimensions of this ca- 
 thedral seemed to us vaster than some of those 
 on the continent which we knew to be larger. 
 
 The most beautiful portion of the interior 
 in our unlearned but interested judgment was 
 the octagon " lantern " which renders impossi- 
 
Ely 107 
 
 ble any regret for the fall of the central tower 
 that preceded it. And how fitting that Alan 
 de Walsingham, whose " supreme constructive 
 genius led to the building " of the present tower 
 and lantern, should have been buried beneath 
 this monument to his masterly ability! 
 
 Flos operatorum dum vixit corpore solus 
 
 Hie jacet ante chorum Prior entumulatus Alanus. 
 
 This is Walsingham's epitaph; but the sup- 
 posed place of his long rest, just in front of 
 where the stone Norman choir screen had been 
 until its demolition about a hundred and fifty 
 years ago, is marked by a once brass-inlaid 
 stone showing a mitred figure bearing a cro- 
 sier. In the various rearrangement of stones 
 monumental and structural it is quite probable 
 that some worthy bishop or prior has lost his 
 rightful slab and that of the unprotesting Alan 
 may have been destroyed. Surely, however, 
 nothing could destroy the repose of him who 
 conceived such an architectural triumph, what- 
 soever slab might be superimposed upon the 
 tomb in which he has lain about four hundred 
 years. ^ 
 
 It is deporable that no fragment of the Nor- 
 man screen was left or reproduced when the 
 choir was removed to the east end of the build- 
 ing. Yet it is fortunate that the choir was not 
 
108 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 left there, for its present position is the most 
 imposing possible. 
 
 " The ' splendid timber work ' in the upper 
 part of the lantern is a pleasanter means of 
 producing a crick in the back of the neck than 
 a fifty-story building on JNIanhattan Island," 
 said Diana, temporarily disloyal to home. 
 
 In the transepts are substantial remains of 
 the labors of those sturdy masons who followed 
 hard upon the heels of William of Normandy. 
 Traces, too, of the color which once warmed the 
 grim walls are discernible. It is a far cry even 
 from their time to the ancient beginning of 
 this cathedral's history. 
 
 Three years after St. Augustine founded 
 Rochester Cathedral he had journeyed as far 
 as the Isle of Ely in his missionary zeal and 
 established a church at Cratendune, a mile dis- 
 tant from the present site. This assertion 
 comes from Friar Thomas, and although noth- 
 ing remains to prove it, to disprove is equally 
 impossible. Sixty-six years later Etheldreda, 
 a daughter of Anna, King of East Angha — 
 who had received the isle of Ely as a marriage 
 portion when she became wife to Tonbert, 
 Ealdorman of the South Fenmen and, upon 
 a second marriage with Egfrid, son of Nor- 
 thumbria's king, was dowried with large 
 estates in that kingdom — was persuaded by 
 
Ely 109 
 
 Wilfrid, Bishop of York, to devote all of her 
 possessions to religious purposes. A few years 
 after the second marriage she forsook her 
 northern lands and came to Ely's Isle, where 
 she founded a monastery that she might live in 
 seclusion and religious devotion. She was, 
 naturally, its first abbess; although she per- 
 mitted the establishment to house monks as well 
 as nuns. At her death in 678 her sister Sex- 
 burga continued her work. Some years later, 
 the white marble sarcophagus which contained 
 Etheldreda's body was placed in the Saxon 
 church which had been erected on the site of 
 the present cathedral; and for almost a thou- 
 sand years her tomb was the bourne of religious 
 pilgrims from far and near. With Ethel- 
 dreda we are hand in hand when we stand be- 
 fore the little cross erected by her in memory 
 of Ovinus, her faithful steward. 
 
 The Danes, fierce ravagers of England's 
 peace, bore their brands as far as Ely and here 
 committed one of their orgies of fire and sword. 
 Patient England rebuilded here as elsewhere, 
 promptly but more wisely. 
 
 After the Danes' depredation King Alfred, 
 the gentle and beloved, founded here a college 
 of priests. A century later it became a Bene- 
 dictine monastery, and in 1071 Edgar, an Athe- 
 ling who might have been King of England 
 
110 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 had he Hved, and who had enlisted the support 
 of the abbey, was obliged after a prolonged de- 
 fense under Hereward — " the last of the Eng- 
 lish " — to surrender this last Saxon stronghold 
 to Duke William. Under Abbot Simeon, a 
 kinsman of William, the castle and cathedral 
 builder, the present minster was begun. 
 
 The " boldly clustered marble pier with its 
 detached shafts," so praised by Professor Free- 
 man, we did not admire as much as the massive 
 strength of Rochester's round columns. 
 
 One or two memorial plates of modern date 
 prove conclusively the absence of humor which 
 characterized our British forebears, whose 
 quaint phraseology was nevertheless quite sin- 
 cere, be it supposed. One states that — 
 
 In this place lies ye body of 
 Richard Elliston 
 
 Ay of such uncommon Endowments singular Modesty 
 Sweetness of Temper engaging Behaviour as could 
 
 not but inspire 
 His Relations and friends with the most pleasing 
 
 Hopes 
 But alas all these were defeated in an instant by an 
 Unhappy Death occasioned by the Kick of a Horse 
 August 4th 1744. In the 13th year of his Age. 
 
 Another smacks of romance and marital de- 
 votion : 
 
* fo 
 
 H 
 
 O 
 
 
Ehj 111 
 
 Near this place lieth the Body of 
 Dame Maetha 
 
 Daughter of Mr. Pennington of SufFolke 
 
 Rehct of Robert Mingay Esqr. and wife of 
 
 Sir Rogee Jenyxs 
 
 Who put up this for her. 
 
 She died in Anno 17 04 and according to 
 
 her desire 
 
 Interred in the Vault here with her first husband. 
 
 While Sonia bemoaned inaudibty the vandal- 
 ism that tore out the memorial brasses from 
 the pavement to the south of the choir, Diana 
 was assiduously copjdng mason marks from the 
 stones near the base of a wall column. 
 
 " I don't believe they are genuine," she whis- 
 pered, " but I Hke to think they may be." 
 
 A clergyman was showing two men about 
 the cathedral. We caught occasional bits of 
 his information and longed for more, but had 
 not temerity to venture nearer. We stepped 
 out into a corner of the churchyard bounded 
 on three sides by the walls of the building. A 
 verger approached and called our attention to 
 some details in the decoration of windows. He 
 said he was the oldest of El5'''s present bedes- 
 men. The clergjTnan we had seen was one of 
 the canons. 
 
112 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 " I hope he won't go off," said Sonia, " I'd 
 hke to ask him some questions, but I am afraid 
 he might not be wilhng to answer them." 
 
 " So you have not, then, the courage to face 
 the canon's mouth? " returned Diana. 
 
 A few moments later courage and canon 
 were both forgotten. We had found all the 
 beauty and interest we could wish in the ex- 
 quisite little chantries of bishops West and 
 Alcock, grotto-like specimens of the elaborate 
 stone carvings of the Decorated period ; in the 
 delicate curves of the carven stone stairway 
 leading to the organ loft and of some of the 
 tombs. Wood carving, too, in the matter of 
 choir stalls as well as up aloft in the lantern 
 adds its dominant note to the arpeggio of Ely's 
 beauty. 
 
 " When I looked at the Cromwell pictures 
 in the House of Commons and listened to Sir 
 Robert's eulogy of that bold warrior I felt 
 that my schoolgirl dislike of him was un- 
 just; but when I think of him striding at the 
 head of a mob through this cathedral, too 
 uncouth to remove his hat, too unreasoning to 
 know that this was just as truly the spirit house 
 of God as any dissenting chapel, I feel a hate 
 for him as cold and relentless as those icy rages 
 which Richard Yea and Nay knew so well. 
 Fancy," exclaimed Diana; "his daring to 
 

 Si 
 
 o 
 a, 
 
 
 
 ■Si 
 
 =0 
 
 
 ^ 
 
Ely 113 
 
 stable his horses in this Lady Chapel, every 
 corbel and medallion of which is so sacredly 
 beautiful!" 
 
 " I always think of Oliver Cromwell as un- 
 clean," responded Sonia. " His person in 
 every picture I have ever seen concerning him 
 always suggests an unshaven, badly tailored 
 fanatic whose mind stood in greater need of 
 cold tubbing than his body." 
 
 Of the old cloisters enough remains to give 
 free rein to fancy; and the prior's doorway is 
 the most elaborate bit of Norman decoration 
 we had yet seen. 
 
 The rain had ceased. As we emerged from 
 the vaulty coldness of the cathedral the warm 
 air, sweet with rain-steeped perfume, greeted 
 like a caress. Around and about the grounds 
 we strolled, peered through the fence at quiet 
 graves among the yews and joyed in masses of 
 tall pink valerian self-sown amid the deep moss 
 upon an ancient Gothic wall. 
 
 The custom of the country is usually a good 
 one. We had learned to welcome the tea hour. 
 The cheerful cup was set before us in a mu- 
 seum-like upper chamber in an old house on the 
 steep High Street. 
 
 Some of the miscellaneous contents of the 
 room were antique; the rest were merely an- 
 tiquated. But when we saw dragging chains 
 
114 Ways and Bays Out of London 
 
 which had been dug up from a Roman road 
 nearby, and dozens of horseshoes worn thin by 
 Albion's flinty roads nearly two thousand years 
 ago and buried until now, we forgot that Ethel- 
 dreda's days were " old," in recalling the clank 
 of Cffisar's legions on their northward march. 
 
 At the bottom of the street we found a canal- 
 like river which proved to be the Ouse. 
 
 " I wonder why so many of England's rivers 
 have but one syllable? Colne, Dart, Thames, 
 Exe, Wye " 
 
 " What are all those white things over there 
 against the fence? " asked Sonia. " They 
 must be osiers drying for baskets and chairs," 
 she hazarded. 
 
 " How restful it all is! That woman in the 
 boat looks as if she had never hurried in her 
 life. Is there such a place as London? " sighed 
 Diana. " Thaulow should have painted these 
 red roofs reflected in the water." 
 
 We walked along the narrow path beside the 
 river and crossed the arched bridge for a bet- 
 ter view of the cathedral upon its hill, so sur- 
 prising a feature of this level landscape. We 
 should have liked to know where stood the cas- 
 tle which a bishop of Ely had erected for the 
 Empress Maud during her war with Stephen, 
 but there was none to tell. 
 
 " I think," said Diana, " that the present 
 
The prcsetit peace is the more palpable because of what has been. 
 
Ely 115 
 
 peace of a place where bitterest battles have 
 occurred is the more palpable because of what 
 has been." 
 
 These nether lands of Britain need no wind- 
 mills to enhance their broad tranquillity. The 
 great dome of the sky meets the distant low 
 horizon in a haze of pearl and silver. 
 
 When we ascended again into the town we 
 caught a glimpse of the battlemented turrets 
 of the cathedral's west end and were struck 
 by its resemblance to some medieval schloss 
 built for protection rather than as a pacific 
 approach to a temple. 
 
 Early in the morning we arose to walk in 
 the cathedral park and to find the Oliver Crom- 
 well house in the town. It faces the village 
 green, and is far more humble in appearance 
 than one would expect a residence of the stren- 
 uous Protector to be. 
 
 From each new point of view Alan's lan- 
 tern is more impressive than before; from the 
 river at evening, from our windows while it 
 shimmered in moonlit mystery and the white 
 veil of morning, from the broad meadows of 
 the park and from the early train to Cambridge 
 the beauty of " the only Gothic dome in exist- 
 ence " was less a thing of chiseled stone than of 
 spiritual exaltation made manifest. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Cambridge 
 
 AT last a market day! Instead of booths 
 Mm, strung along half a dozen streets, how- 
 ever, as in Switzerland, Cambridge's market 
 was spread in a square and presented a gay 
 galaxy of color. We should have liked to buy 
 a chicken whose legs and wings were demurely 
 crossed and decorated with greens. Sonia, 
 lover of baskets and cheerful bearer of bur- 
 dens, actually offered to carry home provisions 
 for Sunday dinner in order to justify the pur- 
 chase of an immoderately large basket. 
 
 " You know we always have a slice from 
 Mrs. Dodson's joint on Sunday. Buy the 
 basket if you must; but I'll warrant you will 
 find more tempting things to fill it than these 
 delectable strawberries and lettuces." Thus 
 Diana. 
 
 Ely's quietude had been restful. Cambridge 
 
 116 
 

 13 
 
 3 
 
Cambridge 117 
 
 was bustling with all sorts of activity. There 
 was a gala atmosphere in the crowds that was 
 not induced by market day alone. College 
 boys wearing hideous broad-striped blazers 
 were everywhere. With most of them were 
 girls, not so daintily dressed as American girls, 
 but pretty as are youth and happiness the world 
 over. 
 
 Scarcely had we turned away from the mar- 
 ket ere we forgot its incendiary effect upon the 
 money in our purses. The window of a china 
 shop displayed tea sets decorated with the 
 arms of the various colleges in the university. 
 Diana's petty cash was readily losing its bal- 
 ance while she counted the cost in dollars of a 
 fourteen-shilling tea set. Sonia, strong in 
 her self-control now that the baskets were 
 well behind, laid firm hold upon her friend's 
 arm. 
 
 "Did we come here to see the university or 
 to buy china? " she asked. Diana closed her 
 purse and was saved. 
 
 " We can stop here on our way to the station 
 this afternoon. Then we should not have to 
 carry it all day," she compromised. 
 
 We entered the quadrangle of Corpus 
 Christi and the china shop fell to limbo. Black- 
 gray walls on all sides made no architectural 
 pretense, yet bespoke a dignity, an atmosphere 
 
118 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 of intellectuality such as can only result from 
 age and long accustom. Every window — and 
 there were many — bore upon its sill a box of 
 scarlet geraniums. The bright flowers pre- 
 cluded a too great solemnity and the whole 
 effect liked us well. 
 
 " I wish there were only one college in Cam- 
 bridge," said Sonia. " This is so nice I should 
 like to Hnger indefinitely and admire it. That 
 passage seems to lead into another court." In 
 the old court we stood breathless with surprise 
 and delight, for here the original structure, 
 five hundred and fifty years old, surround- 
 ed us. 
 
 Pembroke came next. In its " quad " we be- 
 came enthusiastic over a beautiful clock tower. 
 A spectacled man of the hirsute sort that re- 
 sembles a Skye dog was pottering about some 
 flower beds. When politely interrogated as to 
 whether we might photograph the clock tower, 
 he looked as though he were going to bark in 
 the shrill yet mushy voice we knew he must 
 have. 
 
 "It is not customary," he said in a manner 
 he probably supposed expressive of profes- 
 sorial dignity. 
 
 From the ivy-clad inner court of Pembroke 
 we caught a glimpse of the gardens which we 
 dared not enter, lest the Skye come worrying 
 
Cambridge 119 
 
 at our heels, though we longed to see Spenser's 
 mulberry tree. 
 
 In the Fitzwilliam Museum — with its classic 
 facade — there are a few fine paintings : a Rem- 
 brandt portrait of himself, a Palma Vecchio 
 Venus and Cupid, Titian's Venus and the Lute 
 Player, and one of the best Veroneses out of 
 Italy, Hermes, Herse, and Agraulos. An 
 exhibition of old English colored " comic " 
 prints drove us, after a glance or two, in loath- 
 ing from the hideous vulgarity of the eight- 
 eenth century. We asked to see the museum's 
 rich collection of autograph music and illumi- 
 nated missals, but were told that these could 
 not be shown to visitors unaccompanied by 
 graduates of the university. 
 
 Peterhouse, as St. Peter's College is famil- 
 iarly called, was sho^n us by a guide who said 
 this was the oldest college of them all. It was 
 founded in 1257 by Hugh de Balsham, a 
 bishop of Ely. The history of Cambridge is 
 interwoven with that of Ely. Ely's bishop is 
 still visitor of four colleges in the university 
 and chooses one of two candidates named by 
 the " Society " for mastership in St. Peter's. 
 The architecture of St. Peter's is not imposing, 
 externally. The chapel occupying the center 
 of the quad — which, being inclosed on but three 
 sides by the college buildings is therefore not 
 
120 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 a quad — is dark and seldom within, but the glass 
 is rich in tone as is also the ancient carved oak. 
 The most interesting portion of the whole was, 
 to us, the hall, entered from the inner court — 
 a beautiful modern room of ancient design. In 
 the center of some of its leaded windows are 
 insets designed by that superb colorist, Burne- 
 Jones. The abnormality of poets is pardon- 
 able, but oft amusing ; and we laughed at some 
 of the idiosyncrasies of the bard of Stoke 
 Poges. 
 
 In the church of St. Marj^ the Less are some 
 memorial tablets to members of the family of 
 America's first President, who was first in three 
 other respects. 
 
 " Before I see any more colleges," said 
 Diana; " I want to find the little church that 
 has a pre-Norman tower." Distances are short 
 in Cambridge, and we found it behind " Cor- 
 pus." The street on which St. Benet's humbly 
 retires is so narrow we could not obtain a pho- 
 tograph of the low, square tower whose sim- 
 ple ruggedness might well have outlived a 
 thousand years or more. We peeped through 
 the tall iron fence and admired the entrance 
 to a passage into the street beyond. Sonia 
 wanted to see the interior of the church; but 
 timidity would have prevented had not Diana 
 gently tried the door of the church and found 
 
Cambridge 121 
 
 it unlocked. We entered and saw a kindly 
 faced clergyman in his black cassock, talking 
 to an old woman. Seeing hesitation and in- 
 quiry in our mien he nodded to us kindly. 
 Diana said we were interested in the church — 
 and — might we be permitted to see the inte- 
 rior? Whereupon his demeanor inferred that 
 interest had been manifested in the theme 
 which he most dearly loved. He consulted his 
 watch. 
 
 " In ten minutes there will be a short serv- 
 ice. If you would like to return at twelve I 
 shall be most happy to show you the church." 
 
 We came on the King's Parade, opposite the 
 handsome, vine-draped stone screen that shields 
 the outer court of King's College from the 
 street. Ever since that day the mention of 
 King's brings to mind its beautiful chapel, a 
 marvel of the most marvelous period of Gothic 
 architecture, and rightly called the " Glory of 
 Cambridge." Our eyes followed every lovely 
 line of roof, window, and stall when we had re- 
 luctantly withdrawn them from the chapel's 
 exterior and passed through the delicately 
 carved doorway into the lofty nave. We knew 
 how grotesque had sometimes been the whims 
 of medieval stone carvers; but never had we 
 seen so daintily unconventional a divertisse- 
 ment as we discovered in the heart of one of the 
 
122 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Tudor roses that share with the portcuUis in 
 the decorative scheme. Instead of the conven- 
 tionahzed rose center that is repeated in all the 
 others, this rose contains a woman's face, deli- 
 cately carved. Some say it represents the art- 
 ist's idea of the Virgin; but the artistic idea 
 of the Virgin is usually very human, and we 
 liked to think that with a song on his lips 
 and a chisel in his hand, the carver's eyes 
 saw only the face of his beloved while he was 
 working. 
 
 We rested, steeping our souls in the sensuous 
 beauty of line and of light from the old glass 
 which colored the atmosphere as though it had 
 been filtered through jewels. 
 
 Back to St. Benet's we strolled and found 
 the vicar, divested of his robes, awaiting us. 
 The church probably dates, he told us, from the 
 beginning of the seventh century. Perhaps 
 some of St. Augustine's followers erected it 
 about the time their master was engaged on 
 that at Cratendune — the predecessor of Ely 
 Cathedral. The vicar showed us a piscina with 
 quatrefoliated squint which he had exhumed 
 from the mass of plaster that had been smeared 
 over the walls by modern " restorers." He 
 tapped the east wall, which rang hollow near 
 the altar; and doubtless there his chisel would 
 discover something interesting. A chapter 
 
Cambridge 123 
 
 would be all too little for the interesting details 
 he told us of his little church that had been 
 standing hundreds of years ere the university 
 germinated. And even this is shrouded in 
 mystery. Bede tells of Sigebert, King of East 
 Anglia, who, having seen in France a " school 
 for learning," instituted something of the sort 
 in England. The rival universities each claim 
 to be the older. 
 
 "We must admit, I think," said the vicar; 
 " that an ox-ford may be older than a Cam- 
 bridge. By the bye, you Americans know 
 history rather well; probably you recall that 
 the Cam was anciently called the Grenta or 
 Granta and that Domesday Book refers to the 
 university as * Grentebridge.' " 
 
 " The river must be as small as its present 
 name," said Sonia; " we have not yet discov- 
 ered it." 
 
 " You have not seen the Backs? Do let me 
 show them to you ! " 
 
 *' We have seen a good many fronts and 
 insides," said Diana ; " are the backs any 
 nicer? 
 
 "Wait!" commanded the vicar, who led 
 the way through St. Catherine's College and 
 Queen's, where he paused long enough to let 
 us admire the large sun dial on the chapel wall, 
 the Erasmus Court, and the Tower in whicH 
 
124 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 that gentle maker of history awaited a royal 
 summons that never came. However worthy 
 the mysterious Backs might be, we must needs 
 loiter through the Cloister Court, so quaint 
 and picturesque a link with long ago. 
 
 Through a narrow passage we came sud- 
 denly upon a simple wooden bridge over a tiny 
 river, beyond which spread the glory of Eng- 
 land's mighty trees and emerald turf. The 
 bridge on which we stood was, the vicar said, 
 an exact replica of an ancient one — known as 
 the Mathematical Bridge — which had been so 
 perfectly constructed that wooden pins held it 
 securely together. We stepped upon the path 
 on the river's farther brink. Our vicar's face 
 beamed at our delight. 
 
 " After all," he said; " what can be compared 
 to nature? What would our quads be with- 
 out their window boxes, their flower borders, 
 and the inevitable ivy you Americans like so 
 much? And tell me, do you not like all of 
 Cambridge better now that you are beginning 
 to be acquainted with the Backs? " We had 
 been strolling along the shady path. The 
 Backs of King's Chapel and of Clare College 
 were mirrored in the river. Clare's Bridge 
 was set in a glory of green. 
 
 The vicar returned with us as far as the 
 King's Parade, and in resj^onse to a request 
 

 so 
 
 ■n 
 
126 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 pers of the paper-sole sort. We admired their 
 utter serenity of countenance, which gave no 
 hint of torture. 
 
 " Perhaps you may have observed," said 
 Diana, " that they are not trying to see the 
 whole of Cambridge in a single day; and that 
 very few of them venture on this awful rubble." 
 
 Trinity's Great Court is inclosed by the bat- 
 tlemented buildings of this largest college in 
 the university. The " wrong side " of the 
 King's Gateway was quite as interesting as 
 the other. We sought entrance to the chapel, 
 but were a few minutes too early for the after- 
 noon opening, so after a good look at the big 
 fountain, which was innocent of water, and 
 at King Edward's Tower beyond which was a 
 garden, and promising ourselves to return 
 later to the chapel, we passed through an oaken 
 passage on one side of which was the " but- 
 tery." On the other we caught a glimpse into 
 the great oak-paneled dining hall. We longed 
 to see the library with its precious collection of 
 manuscripts, but dared not seek permission. 
 From the beautiful Cloister Court we passed 
 into yet another, from which a gateway 
 brought us suddenly out on a bridge over the 
 Cam. After such an infinity of buildings this 
 was so refreshing that we uttered the only ex- 
 clamation that is flexible enough to express 
 
King's Gateway is more eloquent of King Hal than of Edward IV. 
 
Cambridge 127 
 
 what we felt: " Oh! " The river was gay with 
 girls. The vicar had told us that the annual 
 intercollegiate rowing races would occur at 
 five this afternoon. This accounted for the 
 gala atmosphere. To be sure, we wanted to 
 go. Could we afford to miss anything in this 
 land of delightful surprises? The course was 
 some distance from the town, and there would 
 doubtless be brakes in plenty to carry the race- 
 goers. We sank upon a bench where we could 
 watch the tennis playing. Diana opened a 
 guide book and listlessly turned its pages. 
 
 " Do you care," she inquired of Sonia, who 
 had furtively slipped her foot from its dainty 
 " pump," and was scanning the distance fear- 
 ful of detection; " do you care whether Cam- 
 bridge was burned by the Danes or whether 
 William erected a castle here while the Saxon 
 nobles held the isle of Ely against his advance? 
 Does your present or future happiness depend 
 upon the knowledge that Cromwell took pos- 
 session of the Borough of Cambridge for Par- 
 liament and garrisoned it with a thousand 
 
 men? 
 
 ?" 
 
 It seems to me," replied Sonia, hastily re- 
 placing her shoe at the fancied approach of 
 something human; " that those things occurred 
 everywhere in England. I suppose King John 
 granted all sorts of promises, Indian fashion, 
 
128 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 that Richard II or III — not our splendid 
 Richard — deprived everybody of everything 
 they justly possessed, and that Elizabeth gra- 
 ciously volunteered to pay somebody a roj'^al 
 visit. Would it not be dreadful if we should 
 become indifferent to such things ! My brain is 
 clogged; we have had such a feast to-day. I 
 can't digest anj'ihing more." 
 
 ** Here is something we should have seen," 
 said Diana, with reviving interest; "in the 
 market place, which this book says is one of the 
 finest in England — opposite the guildhall 
 stands the conduit erected chiefly by a bequest 
 of Thomas Hobson, the ' immortal carrier,' be- 
 cause of his ' choice ' in the matter of livery- 
 stable accommodation. 
 
 " Just fancy Geoffrey Chaucer having been 
 a student here! " she continued. " And list to 
 these names! Cranmer, Coleridge, Milton, 
 Ben Jonson, Pepys, Spenser, Ridley, Pitt, 
 Jeremy Taylor, William Harvey, Elizabeth's 
 Essex, Newton, Bacon, Dryden, Byron, and 
 last — aye, and least — Oliver Cromwell. To 
 Magdalene — must we say Maudlin? — Pepys 
 bequeathed a valuable and curious library." 
 
 "Yes, Maudlin it must be; and did you 
 notice that our nice vicar pronounced Caius, 
 'Keys'?" 
 
 Trinity's magnificent avenue of limes gave 
 
Cambridge 129 
 
 us one more thrill before we concluded to forego 
 the races; and having crossed St. John's 
 Bridge of Sighs and traversed St. John's four 
 rubble-paved courts, we hailed a yellow han- 
 som which stood outside the Tudor Gateway 
 and were driven rapidly to the station sans 
 china and sans basket. 
 
 That evening Miss Hebert came to our 
 lodgings with an invitation from Mrs. Trotter, 
 whose husband is one of the dignitaries of Pe- 
 terhouse, for the American ladies to come down 
 to Cambridge for the Senior Wrangler and 
 Wooden Spoon exercises a few days later. 
 
 " I say, it is a pity you went to Cambridge 
 before you had this invitation. ^Irs. Trotter 
 would have given you a jolly luncheon in the 
 doctor's rooms, and they would have shown you 
 everything." 
 
 "Not in one day!" Diana exclaimed with 
 emphasis; "but perhaps they will show us a 
 few of the things we did not see : Milton's and 
 Spenser's mulberry trees, for instance; some 
 interiors and a few more colleges. We have 
 seen only nine to-day." 
 
 " It will be a pleasure," said the undaunted 
 Sonia, " to meet Mrs. Trotter, if only to thank 
 her for her generosity to people she has never 
 seen." 
 
 Arrayed in fine feather, therefore, we set 
 
130 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 forth on the first Tuesday in July for Cam- 
 bridge. jNlrs. Trotter met us at the station 
 and we were driven in her carriage to the Sen- 
 ate House, where a multitude of robed and 
 hooded men and a bevy of eager young women 
 were assembling. We remembered the day 
 Soma's brother was graduated from Harvard ; 
 and the brisk, if boisterous American way 
 made the sober British method of graduation 
 seem somewhat ponderous. The Senate House 
 is not unlike a Presbyterian church. Part of 
 the gallery was reserved for guests, but most 
 of it was filled with undergraduates, whose 
 enthusiasm was, we concluded, either tepid or 
 controlled. There were a few rows of seats 
 along the side walls, and we had no difficulty 
 in obtaining places. The rear end of the hall 
 was apportioned to the various colleges, whose 
 positions were indicated by large cards bearing 
 the somewhat startling names: Jesus, Trinity, 
 Christ, etc.; and under these were gathered 
 black - robed, fur - hooded, mortar - boarded 
 seniors. 
 
 Two men entered bearing silver maces; an- 
 other solemnly bore a book that looked like a 
 family Bible — its covers chained together. 
 
 " The statutes," whispered ]Mrs. Trotter. 
 Then came an old man in scarlet robes which 
 were faced with crushed strawberry. He ap- 
 
Cambridge 131 
 
 propriated an imposing chair — center front of 
 the low platform. He was the Vice Chancel- 
 lor. The two mortar-boarded mace bearers 
 stood on the Vice Chancellor's either side and 
 concentrated their solemn gaze upon the rear 
 of the hall. The silence was sacramental. 
 There were several Senior Wranglers; which 
 discovery confused us considerably, because we 
 had, in discussing the probable meaning of the 
 term, concluded that a Wrangle might be Eng- 
 lish for debate, and that the Senior Wrangler, 
 having been victorious in debate, was valedic- 
 torian. Evidently there were to be no speeches, 
 no valedictory, no singing of glees. The sen- 
 iorest Wrangler knelt before the Vice Chan- 
 cellor, his palms together, raised in saintly 
 supplication. The hands were overlaid by 
 those of the scarlet-and-crushed-strawberry 
 one M ho murmured something inaudible. One 
 or two boys in the gallery feebly cheered, 
 and the blushing candidate escaped by a side 
 door. 
 
 " If only Billy and his class were here to 
 give them a good Harvard yell!" whispered 
 Sonia. 
 
 "Rah! Rah! Uahl— that one," replied 
 Diana, pointing to the sacred name of one col- 
 lege, " would not be conducive to the sort of 
 cheering Billy led." 
 
132 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 The exercises continued for several hours, 
 the graduates being conducted to the red one 
 in groups of four, each member of which 
 grasped a professorial finger hke a frightened 
 child reluctantly going to the dentist. After- 
 wards Mrs. Trotter went with us to see the 
 Round Church — St. Sepulchre — one of the 
 four round churches extant in England that 
 the Normans had built in imitation of the Holy 
 Sepulchre at Jerusalem. This one is singu- 
 larly like another we had seen — the beautiful 
 Temple Church in London. 
 
 Then we went to Jesus College, whose most 
 interesting feature to us was the chapel. The 
 one-time Benedictine nunnery of St. Rhade- 
 gund forms a part of it and the Nuns' Gallery 
 remains almost unchanged. Here carved on 
 an oaken stall are the armorial cocks of Bishop 
 Alcock, whose beautiful little chapel is one of 
 Ely's most delectable features. He was 
 founder of this college. In a cloistered court 
 have recently been revealed early architectural 
 beauties which had been plastered out of sight 
 by some zealous restorer. 
 
 She also showed us Caius, with its Gates of 
 Honor, of Humility, and of Virtue, which de- 
 lighted us even more than its flower-decked 
 courts. The other colleges she named to us as 
 we passed; but now we must hurry lest we be 
 

 
 o 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 
Cambridge 183 
 
 late for the Wooden Spoon ceremony. Dr. 
 Trotter awaited us in his rooms at Peterhouse, 
 his genial cordiality quite overcoming our awe 
 of his lofty position. The luncheon was 
 worthy of LucuUus; but we might not linger 
 to enjoy it as it deserved. The doctor, clad in 
 a scarlet coat with pink facings, placed on his 
 auburn head a velvet hat much like those of the 
 " buffetiers " in the Tower of London. Sonia 
 strode proudly beside him while Diana followed 
 with Mrs. Trotter and mentally decided that if 
 there were harmony in the color scheme of col- 
 legiate garments it was of the sort that musi- 
 cians call " close." 
 
 We both endeavored to learn the meaning of 
 Senior Wrangler. Our companions labored 
 kindly, patiently, and politely ; but our impres- 
 sions are still somewhat hazy. Triposes are 
 lists of honor students in order of distinction. 
 In the mathematical tripos the first man is 
 Senior Wrangler. Wherefore wrangler? As 
 Billy would say: " Search me! " 
 
 " The morning exercises are rather dull," 
 said Mrs. Trotter, who had doubtless detected 
 condemnation in our faint praise; "but the 
 Wooden Spoon is right jolly, you know." 
 
 Let the eloquence of a London newspaper 
 article on the following morning describe the 
 afternoon's ceremony: 
 
134 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 Conferment of Degrees. 
 
 Over six hundred degrees were conferred yesterday 
 at the last congregation of the Cambridge academical 
 year. Among the recipients was Mr. I , of Pem- 
 broke, one of the Senior Wranglers, who, by right 
 of his position in the mathematical tripos, took pre- 
 cedence of all his confreres. At the tail of the long 
 
 list was Mr. R. P , of Fitzwilliam Hall, the 
 
 *' wooden spoonist." Emblazoned with university 
 and college arms, and decorated with the colors of 
 the hall, the spoon was suspended between the gal- 
 leries upon stout cords, and the quaint mode of pres- 
 entation occasioned much mirth. After Mr. P 
 
 had been admitted to his degree, the spoon was low- 
 ered, but just as he was about to clutch it, it was 
 jerked out of his reach. This manoeuvre was re- 
 peated time after time, varied by other antics prac- 
 tised by undergraduates on degree day. At last Mr. 
 
 P. grew tired of the sport, and strode away 
 
 toward the exit. " Come back, sir, come back, " his 
 tormentors roared. With some hesitation, the 
 wooden spoonist retraced his steps, and was merci- 
 fully allowed to capture his legitimate spoil. Bear- 
 ing the spoon on his shoulder, he made his way out 
 of the Senate House, to the accompaniment of loud 
 cheering. 
 
 Our splendid doctor was on the platform; 
 but his presence could not deter the combined 
 
Cambridge 135 
 
 influences of champagne at luncheon, a tem- 
 perature in the hall of eighty-odd degrees that 
 were not academic, together with the " sport- 
 ive manoeuvres," from producing in us a Hen- 
 ley-like sleepiness, more difficult to combat be- 
 cause of the greater need. There came an end. 
 
 Dr. Trotter was anxious for us to see some 
 of the college interiors. Mr. Ruskin, he told 
 us, considered the Second Court of St. John's 
 — through which we were passing and had ex- 
 claimed at the mauve tone age had given to 
 the brick buildings — the most perfect archi- 
 tecturally of all the many beautiful ones in the 
 university. The great dining hall at St. John's 
 is one of the finest we had seen since the Mid- 
 dle Temple. Here were Hepplewhite chairs 
 enough to make a fortune for a Piccadilly 
 dealer in antiques. Dr. Trotter pointed out 
 the portraits of Wordsworth and other promi- 
 nent St. Johnsmen. The long and narrow 
 combination room has a low Tudor ceiling. 
 Here were more interesting portraits; but our 
 attention was chiefly given to the furniture. 
 Diana discovered several Edelinck and Clouet 
 engravings on the walls. The library is one of 
 the many treasure troves which are so aston- 
 ishingly plentiful in England. 
 
 Train time was rapidly approaching, so we 
 could see no more of the beauties of Cambridge. 
 
136 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 As we were about to enter a china shop on St. 
 John's Street, Sonia exclaimed in some excite- 
 ment: 
 
 "Here comes our vicar!" Not knowing 
 that we possessed a vicar, the Trotters turned 
 and beheld the vicar of St. Benet's, who 
 paused, greeted us kindly, and a formal ex- 
 change was made of that necessary currency 
 — names. 
 
 Promising to visit us soon in London the 
 Trotters waved good-by as we leaned from the 
 window in our compartment of the train for 
 London. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 Stoke PogeSj Burnham BeecheSj Eton and 
 
 Windsor 
 
 THE poet Gray : this is Stoke Poges. Be- 
 fore its Gray day there was at Stoke 
 Poges a pretty village church around which 
 spread a shady graveyard. The church and 
 graveyard remain, and doubtless there are pret- 
 tier ones in England; but from the moment 
 the traveler steps out of his landaulet before 
 the tiny ivy-smothered lodge, where he refuses 
 to buy photographs of what he has not seen, 
 but burns to see, his thoughts are of the poet 
 Gray. Upon this single string, moreover, do 
 sexton and pew opener harp. 
 
 From Gray the lych-gate, which he never 
 saw, had excluded us. Immediately we had 
 passed through it we were permeated with that 
 peace in which the poet's spirit was steeped on 
 the psychological evening which procreated the 
 
 137 
 
138 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 poem best known to English-speaking people. 
 Though we stood in the hot summer sun and 
 looked down the flower-bordered walk between 
 the graves leading to the little church — though 
 curfew, lowing herd, and darkness were lack- 
 ing, Sonia said : 
 
 " I wonder why the world had to wait for 
 the son of a London money scrivener to ex- 
 press the sensations that are shared by us all? 
 Hundreds, thousands have felt the same poetic 
 efflatus as they stood here; and how few pos- 
 sess the ability to crystallize it in language I " 
 
 A grave-digger's spade gave to the lyric 
 silence a dramatic intensity. Some instinct 
 led us to the poet's simple tomb, which bears 
 not his name, though a tablet on the church 
 wall facing it states that he lies " in the same 
 tomb upon which he has so feelingly inscribed 
 his grief at the loss of a beloved parent." 
 
 A good woman must have been " Dorothy 
 Gray, widow, the careful, tender mother of 
 many children, one of whom alone had the mis- 
 fortune to survive her." 
 
 St. Giles is the patron saint of this parish, 
 though his name is seldom mentioned in con- 
 nection with it. Although the history of Stoke 
 Poges began in Saxon times, a church was 
 probably not built until after the Conquest. 
 
 " Domesday Book " records the demesne of 
 
~3 
 
 
 0^ 
 
 I 
 
 3 
 
 
 5* 
 
Stoke Poges 139 
 
 William Stoches, which is assessed at ten hydes 
 — about eight hundred acres — and is worth in 
 all five pounds. 
 
 "Fancy," said Sonia; "what the present 
 * worth ' of beautiful Stoke Park must be! " 
 
 "Incidentally," mused Diana; "what will 
 it be a thousand years from now? " 
 
 " The Earl of Huntingdon — that sounds 
 like Robin Hood. I hope the Huntingdons 
 who owned Stoke Park were Robin's own 
 folk," she continued, as certain historical facts 
 became known to us. 
 
 When royalty pays a visit, woe to him who 
 would economize! Elizabeth was a sovereign 
 whose restless spirit drove her forth on many 
 a sojourn among her landowners; and Stoke 
 Park's hospitality was lavished upon its sump- 
 tuous queen when the mighty chief justice, Sir 
 Edward Coke, threw open its portals for her 
 entertainment. Later, however, she had no 
 compunction about seizing the estate for a 
 debt, real or fancied. 
 
 Although the simple Quaker, William Penn, 
 set forth in quest of a land that would not per- 
 secute the Society of Friends, and became by 
 royal grant owner and governor of Pennsyl- 
 vania, he did not become an American. His 
 son Thomas bought this fair demesne of Stoke 
 Park, in England, which was occupied by his 
 
140 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 descendants for three generations. The Eliza- 
 bethan manor of the Huntingdons was almost 
 demoHshed in 1790; and John Penn caused the 
 present Italian-style mansion to be erected. 
 All we saw of it was a photograph, whose 
 charm was enhanced by clustering roses and a 
 large deodar, and the pretty entrance gate on 
 the road from Slough. 
 
 In the north wall of the chancel in St. Giles's 
 Church are two early English windows and a 
 small Norman one. These, together with a fif- 
 teenth-century doorway, some early "restorer" 
 had choked with plaster and stone, which have 
 happily been removed. To Sir John de INIo- 
 lyns — marshal of the king's falcons, supervisor 
 of the queen's castles, and afterwards a peer 
 of the realm — is due all honor for having erected 
 early in the fourteenth century the present 
 church. We had entered by the little porch, 
 whose two sturdy oaken timbers have with- 
 stood five hundred years of change and chance. 
 A charming feature of the church is the pri- 
 vate entrance for worshipers from the Great 
 House. This so-called cloister leads from a 
 low vestibule windowed with fragments of 
 venerable glass that were brought from the 
 Manor House at the time of its reconstruction. 
 
 Far up in Derbyshire we saw, later in the 
 summer, Dorothy Vernon's beautiful home 
 

 
 5>. 
 
 
 e 
 ^ 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
Stoke Poges 141 
 
 and her tomb with its ugly wooden figures in 
 stiff devotional attitude. And here at Stoke 
 Poges behold painted upon the glass the arms 
 of her son Roger, of John Fortescue, also, 
 whose brother married Dorothy's daughter! 
 What did they here ? There was none to tell us. 
 
 The quaint " bicycle window " interleaded 
 among these bits of old glass was pointed out 
 to us with much pride of possession. 
 
 There are some interesting tombs and brasses 
 in the church. From the Norman-French in- 
 scription on the slab of William de Wittemerse 
 we gathered that he desired our prayers for his 
 pardon. We liked the old custom of calling a 
 woman Dame. " Dame Margaret " has a 
 pleasing sound. 
 
 "What a beautiful name — Alianore!" ex- 
 claimed Diana. " Why has no poet sung of 
 her? Lenore and Eleanore are as nothing to 
 the music of this name." 
 
 Here the Penn is almost as mighty as the 
 poet; but what is a colonist as compared to 
 him who has struck a deep chord of sympathy 
 in the human heart? 
 
 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade. 
 Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap. 
 
 Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 
 
 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 
 
142 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 
 Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray ; 
 
 Along the cool sequester'd vale of life 
 
 They kept the noiseless tenour of their way. 
 
 Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse, 
 
 The place of fame and elegy supply ; 
 And many a holy text around she strews. 
 
 That teach the rustic moralist to die. 
 
 We scarcely glanced at the big monument to 
 the poet in Stoke Park just outside the church- 
 yard, to which our awakened driver directed 
 attention. What avails a stone monument to 
 him whose memory can never fade? 
 
 Past Stoke Common and a raw new village 
 or so we proceeded. The Lord Mayor's Drive 
 brought us to those hoary Burnham Beeches, 
 gnarled and knotted as any rheumatic gaffer, 
 the oldest beeches in old England, and, hap- 
 pily, in the possession of the Corporation of 
 London, free to all who would enjoy them. 
 
 We had always supposed that forest trees 
 grew tall and slender like our native pines and 
 hemlocks ; but the sturdy lower branches of the 
 beeches were within a few feet of the ground. 
 We learned afterwards that they had been 
 pollarded. The tremendous girth of the trunks 
 becomes more and more impressive as the 
 driveway advances through this surprisingly 
 
1, 
 
 
 
 2r 
 
Stoke Poges 143 
 
 extensive remnant of such a forest as Prosper 
 le Gai traversed with his Isoult. Sherwood 
 Forest is a disappointment. Its few old trees 
 are tottering on the verge of extinction, and 
 imagination falters before the decrepit surviv- 
 ors of the mighty oaks that sheltered the merry 
 men of gay Robin's band. The Burnham 
 Beeches, on the contrary, look as though they 
 might endure for another thousand years. 
 One, called the Druid, is known to be more than 
 two thousand years old. 
 
 " Oh, for a dryad to tell us of the scenes these 
 trees have beheld!" sighed Sonia. Eerie in- 
 deed are the gnarled, mossy roots writhing like 
 great green serj^ents among the clustering 
 fronds of bracken. A young forest fills the 
 spaces between the giants and the shy eyes of 
 deer alone are needed to complete the sylvan 
 spell. Little opportunity was afforded us for 
 sentiment. We were, all too soon, to pass 
 through loud-voiced throngs of trippers who 
 rode donkeys and patronized garish refresh- 
 ment booths or cheap photographers. Our 
 driver was bidden to haste lest we lose the fine 
 flavor of the forest in this acrid aftermath. 
 We had, however, in our flight a glimpse of 
 some magnificent oaks at the edge of the green- 
 wood. 
 
 In Eton " croky " and cricket were in full 
 
144 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 summer sway. Here and there among the 
 beflanneled cricketers strolled Kate Greena- 
 ways boys in the absurd raiment which a 
 conservative custom requires. We had not 
 planned to see the college buildings to-day, 
 save what could be glimpsed en passant. Our 
 driver insisted that we see the chapel, so, sup- 
 posing him desirous of sampling the beer in a 
 neighboring tavern, we consented — and were 
 rewarded. The chapel is almost as fine as 
 King's in Cambridge. JNIillais's Sir Galahad 
 greeted us like an unexpected friend whom 
 we had learned to know and love in his photo- 
 graphs. Some work of our beloved Burne- 
 Jones adorns the reredos. The old choir 
 stalls and richly glazed windows we needs 
 must linger to admire; also the rows of brass 
 tablets on the walls of the antechapel, bearing 
 — in colors — the arms of many notable families 
 that have been represented at Eton. 
 
 The inner quadrangle of the college is sug- 
 gestive in color and style of Hampton Court 
 and of St. John's at Cambridge. 
 
 And now at last were we at Windsor, of 
 which but a hint had been accorded us on our 
 first Thames day. We had expected much. 
 Who dares to affirm that anticipation exceeds 
 realization ? We have usually found the oppo- 
 site to hold true. Certainly no disappoint- 
 
Stoke Poges 145 
 
 ment awaited in this monster palace of a hun- 
 dred kings. 
 
 An afternoon's impression of Windsor Cas- 
 tle is like a conducted continental tour — 
 merely a foretaste of later and more leisurely 
 delights. Yet it may be fairly comprehen- 
 sive. 
 
 We had read that the site of town and cas- 
 tle had been granted by Edward the Con- 
 fessor to the Abbey of St. Peter, Westmin- 
 ster, which he had established; that William 
 the Grabber, of Normandy, had appropriated 
 it and constructed a fortress, devoting the 
 adjacent park to hunting. In Windsor Park 
 are still some ancient oaks, one of which — the 
 King's Oak — is said to have been a favorite 
 resting place of the Conqueror. To William's 
 fort Henry I added a chapel, in which he was 
 married to Adelais of Lorraine. 
 
 King John, when forced toward Runny- 
 mede by the determined barons, took refuge 
 here on his way. Here Edward III, Diana's 
 favorite king, was born; and here the clever 
 William of Wykeham's architectural skill was 
 lavished, his weekly stipend amounting to 
 seven shillings and that of his clerk three. To 
 the fourth Edward the Chapel of St. George, 
 patron of the Knights of the Garter, is chiefly 
 due. And so proceed the records royal. The 
 
146 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 doomed first Charles many times held court in 
 Windsor Castle, which later was his prison. 
 Subsequent sovereigns perpetuated their in- 
 dividual bad taste in divers alterations and 
 additions. Others, to their credit, interested 
 themselves in enlarging the park and planting 
 avenues of now splendid trees. 
 
 When we alighted at the castle the royal 
 standard was not flying, by which we knew 
 that the king was not in residence. Through 
 Henry VIII's gateway, as ponderous and 
 pompous as himself, we entered the lower 
 ward. Grim gray walls surrounded us and 
 stretched on indefinitely, so it seemed. 
 
 The Horseshoe Cloisters of Edward IV 
 have been so well restored by Sir Gilbert Scott 
 that the whole charm of their oaken antiquity 
 is retained. But to Sir Jeffry Wyatt is due 
 this imposing Windsor of to-day. 
 
 We walked about in that oversweet confec- 
 tion, St. George's Chapel, whose pendant 
 bright-hued banners do a tale of knighthood 
 unfold. Antwerp's artist-blacksmith, Quen- 
 tin Matsys, is believed to have made the monu- 
 mental gates for the tomb of Edward IV, 
 whose coat of mail and pearl-embroidered 
 surcoat of crimson velvet were hung upon 
 them after his interment, but no longer exist. 
 We saw here one of the few chained Bibles 
 
Stoke Poges 147 
 
 which England contains. The gravestone of 
 Charles Brandon reminded us of his pretty 
 romance with the royal Mary, sister of Henry 
 VIII. His armor we had seen in the Tower 
 of London. Here we saw a statue to Leo- 
 pold I of Belgium, who almost was Prince 
 Consort of England, and whose parsimony is 
 still talked of in Esher. The knights' choir 
 stalls, bearing knightly helmets of carved oak, 
 are hors de concours. Beneath the pavement 
 of the choir lies all that's mortal of merry King 
 Hal, whose fame shall not perish until the last 
 man dies. Jane Seymour, last of the famous 
 sextette, lies beside him. 
 
 Cffisar's Tower — now called Curfew Tower 
 — is said to be entered from the cloisters; but 
 we met a locked door, and were compelled to 
 imagine the lofty* belfry — where Henry VIII 
 watched the execution of a butcher who was 
 disloyal — and the tower's crypt-like under 
 chamber, a grewsome dungeon in which many 
 cries of human misery have perished unheard. 
 From this tower a subterranean passage once 
 led to Burnham Abbey, nearly three miles 
 away. 
 
 " I suppose we came on the wrong day," 
 complained Diana. " There seems to be no 
 day when all of any place can be seen. Such 
 and such parts are open on such and such 
 
148 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 days; the rest are open only Sundays or some 
 other than that on which we come." 
 
 " Why lament the loss of the tower when 
 we thereby gain more time for exploring 
 other parts of the castle? " pliilosophized 
 Sonia. 
 
 When we came to the Hundred Steps we 
 were tempted to go do\^Ti to the postern gate, 
 which we had seen on the day we came 
 do\\Ti the river; but conservation of energy 
 and economy of time seemed the wiser deci- 
 sion. So we loitered a while on the north ter- 
 race, to which we had fled after a peep into 
 the Albert Chapel. Would that Wolsey's 
 Chapel had been spared by the mob that de- 
 faced it! Having seen the Albert Memorial 
 in Kensington Gardens, we could not expect 
 to fuid the epitome of good taste in any me- 
 morial to that estimable consort; but after a 
 glance in the Albert Chapel and a pause to 
 question the veracity of our vision we turned 
 quickly away — one groaning ; the other laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " I suppose," said Sonia, when we had at 
 last reluctantly passed from the superb land- 
 scape the north terrace commands of the 
 slopes, the tree tops and avenues in the spa- 
 cious home park, the lucent line of the 
 Thames, and the distant lands beyond Eton, 
 
Stoke Poges 149 
 
 Harrow-on-the-Hill, and Stoke Park; " I sup- 
 pose it is our duty to see the state apartments. 
 I hope this is the day they are not open. It 
 would be much nicer to wander in the green- 
 wood and find Heme's oak where the hunt- 
 er's antlered ghost ' doth all the winter time 
 at still midnight walk round about.' I like 
 the old legend that affirms : ' as long as Wind- 
 sore Forest endures, Heme the hunter will 
 haunt it.' " 
 
 " The state apartments are open," sighed 
 Sonia. " There comes a herd of gawpers out. 
 I dislike to enter any residence uninvited, 
 and I am not interested in royal upholstery. 
 ' Dry rubbish shot here,' " she quoted from an 
 imaginary sign over the entrance. We tried 
 to hurry through the great museum-like halls 
 and corridors; but our cicerone, who had 
 learned his lesson to some purpose and length, 
 would not permit a check to his informatory 
 outflow. 
 
 " The family is in Switzerland and the fur- 
 niture in Holland " might have been said wdth 
 truth, certainly of the furniture. 
 
 " This chire is ownly used upon stite okki- 
 sions," bawled the guide, tenderly lifting the 
 summer dust cover of a massive armchair with 
 intent to impress us wdth its grandeur. There 
 were acres of furniture-strewn floors, miles of 
 
150 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 frescoes, portraits, and tapestry. We tried a 
 center rush through the Rubens Room and 
 succeeded; but our Httle guide was much per- 
 turbed by our irreverence. He had not seen 
 the continental galleries, and therefore could 
 not comprehend. Even Guido and the sweet 
 Carlo we could not take seriously; but Da 
 Forli's splendid portrait of Urbino arrested 
 our attention, as did the Rembrandts in the 
 picture gallery. Royal art collections are 
 like neglected gardens — weedy. Amid a mass 
 of doubtful Titians, unworthy Claudes, and 
 Holbeins, interest in the greater works of great 
 painters flags. The object has evidently been 
 to cover wall space rather than to display a 
 really choice aggregation of the best canvases 
 of the best painters. The Van Dycks, how- 
 ever, are beyond reproach. Here we stood 
 among royal personages — seen through the 
 personality of a great artist — whose intensely 
 vivid humanness made our hearts throb in 
 sympathy with their woes and for their weak- 
 ness. 
 
 The guard chamber was grewsome with 
 trophies of sacrifice to insatiable Mars. There 
 was a superb silver shield inlaid with gold, the 
 work of Cellini, the wonderful, the atrocious. 
 Of all the trophies at Windsor Castle from 
 England's world-wide wars, the black flag of 
 
Stoke Poges 151 
 
 the Khalifa that had been sent to Queen 
 Victoria by Kitchener after the battle of Om- 
 durman thrilled us most with its silent tid- 
 ings. 
 
 There was also the great hall of St. George 
 with its elaborate Gothic roof studded with 
 shields of Knights of the Garter and its price- 
 less portraits of Sovereigns of the Order, who 
 sat to such men as Gainsborough, Lely, Van 
 Dyck, and Kneller. The heavy oak panel- 
 ing makes an impressive background for the 
 portraits. Here was another " stite chire," 
 very much like the coronation chair at West- 
 minster Abbey. The great chimney of 
 " dove " marble speaks of Yule logs and 
 knights holding merry wassail. The recep- 
 tion room has at one end a great Gothic win- 
 dow that looks out on the fair Surrey wealds. 
 We were weary of chairs and chandeliers, of 
 gilt and gaud ; but we had yet to see the throne 
 room, where the garterizing ceremonials occur 
 and the Garter blue is omni-evident. We were 
 weary of the names of Grinling Gibbons and 
 Thomas Lawrence, dearly though we loved 
 their work; for one can have too much cake, 
 howsoever great be the appetite. The throne 
 in the throne room, our guide said, had 
 been formerly the state chair of the King of 
 Candy. 
 
152 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 "I've heard of copper kings and the King 
 of Spades, but the King of Barley Sugar is 
 new to me! " whispered Diana. 
 
 The banqueting hall, resplendent in Eng- 
 lish oak, crimson plush, and portraits gay and 
 grim, was inescapable; and really, as banquet- 
 ing halls go, this Waterloo chamber is as 
 splendid and as stately as poor comfortless 
 royalty could require. Fortunately, visitors 
 are not permitted to see the private apartments 
 of their majesties, so we tripped happily 
 through the grand vestibule and down the 
 ditto staircase, emerging finally in the upper 
 ward. Now were we free to investigate the 
 Round Tower, the strong keep of this strong- 
 hold, of all Windsor's towers the most " per- 
 spicuous " from the country round about. To 
 us it was the most triumphant feature of the 
 whole castle. This one-time prison-house for 
 superfluous royalties was surrounded on three 
 sides by a moat in its early days. Now, how- 
 ever, this space is occupied by one of the most 
 idyllic gardens conceivable. Of all the dis- 
 tinguished prisoners who have been confined 
 in this tower — which has been called by some 
 the Devil's and by others the Maidens' Tower 
 — none excites as much interest as that fair boy, 
 James Stewart, of Scotland. The lad's fa- 
 ther was King of Scotland, but had become 
 
To ufi the Round Tower iva,s the uuhst triumphant feature 
 
 of the ivhole castle. 
 
Stohe Poges 153 
 
 hopelessly insane. The oldest son, who was 
 the natural heir to the throne, was as dissolute 
 as a prince can be. The two princes had a 
 cousin — the Earl of Fife — and the Duke of 
 Albany was their uncle. These relatives were 
 human wolves, seeking what they might de- 
 vour. Albany succeeded in obtaining the re- 
 gency, and straightway he caused Rothsay, 
 the crown prince, to be imprisoned, and his 
 jailers were commanded to slowly starve him 
 to death. When this was accomplished even the 
 king's weakened mind resented it so much as 
 to threaten Albany's position ; but to conciliate 
 the sovereign the duke made a great show of 
 punishing — by death — a handful of his own 
 enemies who were formally accused of murder- 
 ing the young prince. Now, only James, an 
 eight-year-old boy, stood between Albany and 
 the throne he coveted. He was sent to a 
 bishop, who packed him off to France with two 
 letters, one addressed to the French king and 
 one to the English, lest accident befall the 
 little traveler. The accident occurred; on the 
 channel the ship which bore him was seized by 
 an English cruiser, and the little prince was 
 borne to King Henry IV, who, not being on 
 the friendliest terms with Scotland, retained 
 him as a hostage. He was sent to Notting- 
 ham to be educated, and after the accession 
 
154 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 of Henry V, James, then seventeen years of 
 age, was brought to Windsor. At this time 
 he really had been made King of Scotland by 
 acclamation — his father having died — but Al- 
 bany did not want him to be released, nor was 
 Henry willing to do so. Perhaps the boy was 
 not unwilling to remain in England. He was 
 by nature a student and a dreamer, although 
 he sometimes accompanied the royal hunting 
 parties in Windsor Forest, and could " run a 
 spear or push a buckler " as well as any. At 
 length, for state reasons — poor Henry's 
 *' guest " had become an embarrassment — 
 James was confined in more or less comforta- 
 ble apartments in the Tower. He philosoph- 
 ically accepted matters as they were and lux- 
 uriated in writing poems, many of which were 
 inspired by the noble views his windows com- 
 manded. Where the moat had been was now 
 the Maid of Honor's Garden, and there the 
 French queen's attendants strolled in the cool 
 of the day. 
 
 Now was there made, fast by the tower's wall 
 A garden fair ; and in the corneris set 
 
 An arbour green, with wandis long and small 
 Railit about, and so with treis set, 
 Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet 
 
 That lyf was none, walking there forbye, 
 
 That might within scarce any wight espy. 
 
Stoke Poges 155 
 
 One Tom Payne, who had been a priest, a 
 prisoner, and a jail breaker, attempted to res- 
 cue James, but was prevented and captured; 
 and a stricter guard was placed on the tower. 
 The royal prisoner one evening beheld a new 
 figure among the maidens who strolled in the 
 garden. She was alone. A pearl net inclosed 
 the masses of her bright gold hair ; a little dog 
 frolicked beside her. She was intent upon a 
 book held open before her and quite uncon- 
 scious of the interest she aroused in the lonely 
 prisoner's heart. Then she seated herself in 
 a bower of roses and sang a song he knew well. 
 He became bold, and replied by singing it also. 
 The maid blushingly retired; but her heart, 
 too, was stirred. To Henry's " Sweet Kate," 
 Jane, this fair daughter of the Earl of Som- 
 erset, plied questions anent the voice that sang 
 to her from the tower. Meanwhile the young 
 poet was recording his impressions: 
 
 And therewith cast I down mine eyes again 
 Where, as I saw, walking under the tower 
 
 Full secretly, now coming to her plain, 
 The fairest or the freshest young flower. 
 That ever I saw, methought, before that hour, 
 
 For which sudden abate, anon astart 
 
 The blood of all my body to my heart. 
 
 By the kind-hearted queen's intercession 
 James was granted some liberty, and his in- 
 
156 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 terest in the Lady Jane soon kindled into love. 
 When Henry returned to France to do bat- 
 tle against the Dauphin, James was requested 
 to accompany him, and the lovers were sepa- 
 rated for a time. Instead of a triumphal re- 
 turn like that after Agincourt or his marriage 
 with Katherine, Henry was brought back in 
 a cortege, and his sweet Kate was widowed 
 after two brief years of happiness. But she 
 generously espoused the cause of James and 
 Lady Jane and was instrumental in effecting 
 his freedom and their marriage. Their love 
 lasted until death. When the assassin's pon- 
 iard had been struck through his heart she 
 was with him until his last breath was drawn 
 and his last word — " Jane " — was uttered. 
 When Geoffrey Chaucer was valet to Edward 
 III he, too, beheld a fair maid, Philippa, one of 
 Queen Philippa's damsels, walking in the Maid 
 of Honor's Garden, whom he loved and won. 
 " The pencil of the skillful graphist," says 
 one of our guide books ; " is required to give 
 an adequate idea of the imposing east front 
 of the castle as seen from the east terrace." 
 The pencil of the skillful graphist was all that 
 was accorded us of the east terrace, which, we 
 learned with much dismay, is open to visitors 
 only on Sunday, when the guards' band plays 
 from two to four. We wanted to see the gar- 
 
Stoke Poges 157 
 
 dens and orangery below the terrace, also the 
 elephants that had been brought from Luck- 
 now; and this disappointment was the keener 
 because we had lingered so long on the para- 
 pet, looking down on the Maid of Honor's 
 Garden and talking of its sweet romance, that 
 we were unable to see the interior of the Round 
 Tower because we requested admission just 
 twenty minutes after the hour of closing — four 
 o'clock. 
 
 George IV's gateway is guarded by the 
 rival towers of York and Lancaster. The 
 Long Walk was thronged with people as we 
 looked down upon it, and in consideration of 
 its three miles' extent to Snow Hill, whose 
 chief attraction is the " Copper Horse," we 
 contented ourselves with a brief stroll along 
 its sunny pathway between fine old elms and 
 ventured to dispute the guide book's asser- 
 tion that: " Imagination cannot picture an 
 approach of greater magnificence." 
 
 Chance now directed our steps to what we 
 most desired to see — the Royal Mews. There 
 are some private stables in the Berkshires and 
 on Long Island that princes might covet; but 
 we found a peculiar charm in the home of the 
 sleek bays that had drawn their majesties to 
 Royal Ascot, of the ponies beloved of the little 
 princes and in the favorite carriages of " our 
 
158 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 dear queen," as we had often heard our friends 
 call her. The equerry who conducted us 
 through the stables and harness room was the 
 right man in the right place. He loved his 
 horses and was proud to exhibit them and their 
 handsome but refinedly simple trappings. We 
 chatted with him of Ascot, Olympia, and of 
 the Guildford Coach, for we liked to hear him 
 talk; but train time was nearing, and we must 
 yet buy arms-china and ^photographs. 
 
ARMS OF 
 ST. ALBANS. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 St. Albans 
 
 ** X 71 THERE are you going to-morrow? " 
 y V asked Miranda-of-the-Balcony, as 
 we sat in the twilight among clambering 
 vines and glowing flowers, looking over the 
 peaceful expanse of Brompton Cemetery — 
 among whose luxuriant trees thrushes and 
 wrens sounded their evensong — to the glitter 
 of the Earl's Court Exhibition beneath a calm 
 young moon. 
 
 " We were thinking of St. Albans," re- 
 sponded Diana; "do you " 
 
 " St. Albans! Why in the world are you 
 going there ? My dears, it is the hottest place ! 
 and there's nothing to see. We have tickets 
 for the morning performance at Terry's. It 
 is an American play. Do come with us I " 
 
 But we went to St. Albans. 
 
 159 
 
160 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Still seemed London eager to place hazards 
 in the way of our going; never was she will- 
 ing to loosen her thrall. Arrived at St. Pan- 
 eras in good time for the train our new A. B.C. 
 had scheduled, we found it had been changed 
 without notice; and London held our restless 
 persons until twenty-three minutes after noon. 
 The day being Saturday and the station 
 thronged with " bean feasters," we booked 
 first-class tickets and luxuriated in blue-cush- 
 ioned seclusion past 'appy 'Ampstead, where 
 long rows of new houses are aiding the fulfil- 
 ment of that old prophecy that Hampstead 
 will one day be the center of London. 
 
 Alas! Advertising signs — an atrocious 
 Americanism — are permitted to deface this 
 lovely country at the north of London. Can 
 it be possible that soups, soaps, paint, or pills 
 are desirable because they are proclaimed in 
 hideous expanse beside the railway? 
 
 Beyond Elstree the line runs for several 
 miles parallel to the Watling Street, a fitting 
 reminder of Roman Verulamium, most pow- 
 erful and populous of Roman stations in the 
 south of England, to which the name of a 
 Christian proto-martyr was given when Off a. 
 King of INIercia, founded the Abbey of St. 
 Alban in 795. 
 
 About the year 300 Amphibalus, a Chris- 
 
We were so fickle as to become instantln enamored of sundry 
 
 ancient timbered houses. 
 
St. Albans 161 
 
 tian preacher of Caerleon, whose courage was 
 inferior to his conviction, was fain to flee 
 before the persecution that had become ram- 
 pant in Wales by order of Diocletian, rather 
 than suffer martyrdom. Arriving at Veru- 
 lamcestre, he was given refuge in the home of 
 Alban, a wealthy citizen of this town. The 
 pious guest converted his host to his belief; 
 but scarcely had this been accomplished when 
 lo! Amphibalus was wanted by the Roman 
 Emperor's emissaries who pressed hotly about 
 the place of his hiding. Alban exchanged 
 clothing with his guest — thereby proving that 
 opera-bouffe disguises are not so transparent 
 as we suppose — and Amphibalus escaped. 
 Whether the pagan officers "saw through" the 
 deception we are not told ; but they were look- 
 ing for a man to hang, and they found one. 
 Alban, uj^on their demand that he sacrifice to 
 the gods of Rome, not only refused, but re- 
 proved them for doing so; whereupon he was 
 condemned to torture. This he endured with 
 so sublime a patience that their ingenuity was 
 circumvented; so, their merry sport having 
 lost its zest, Alban was condemned to be be- 
 headed on Holmhurst Hill. Upon that spot 
 the abbey was erected five hundred years later. 
 Many were the tales of miracles performed by 
 the martyr on the day of his execution. One 
 
162 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 affirmed that when the multitude which pre- 
 ceded him to the place of execution was de- 
 tained by the narrow bridge across the Ver, 
 AJban " by his prayer obtained that the river, 
 parting asunder, afforded free passage for 
 many together." Then followed the repent- 
 ance and conversion of the executioner and the 
 substitution of a cruel " Doeg," of whom it is 
 said that when he had struck off the head of 
 the martyr " instantly his own eyes fell out of 
 his body." 
 
 " How much more effective that would have 
 been if his eyes had fallen out before he struck 
 the blow! " said Diana. 
 
 When Alban's official canonization occurred 
 we do not know, but his bones rested in peace 
 during those five hundred years so eventful 
 in England. Offa, though a cruel man and 
 the murderer of his kinsman and rival Ethel- 
 bert, evidently had a conscience, for we are 
 told that his remorse permitted him no rest 
 day or night. In a dream he learned the con- 
 dition of his pardon. He must discover the 
 bones of Alban and raise an abbey dedicated 
 to him. With a procession of priests and 
 monks chanting litanies he started forth; but 
 they deserve no credit for finding the saint's 
 scanty remains, for a lightning flash from 
 heaven revealed their whereabouts, and any 
 
St Albans 163 
 
 doubt as to their identity was precluded by a 
 band of gold, on which Alban was inscribed, 
 circling the head. Scarcely were the precious 
 relics removed from the grave when flocks of 
 lame men were made to leap, the deaf to hear, 
 etc. Off a then journeyed to Rome and ob- 
 tained pardon for his crime to Ethelbert. It 
 was probably at this time that Alban's canon- 
 ization was solemnized. Then " St. Alban's 
 Abbey began to be a fact." To the shrine 
 came pious pilgrims from all parts of the land 
 to be made whole. This " worked " very well 
 until the good brothers at Ely, whose coffers 
 had not such effectual means of enrichment 
 now that St. Etheldreda's fame was waning, 
 issued a counterclaim and announced to whom 
 it might concern that Ely Cathedral enshrined 
 the " true " relics of the saint, and had done so 
 all the time. The people were told that they 
 had been duped by the monks at St. Alban's. 
 Perhaps it had been, after all, the faith of the 
 pilgrims that had made them whole. At any 
 rate, the efficacy of the shrine at St. Albans 
 failed. 
 
 " To be entirely just," says Froude, " in 
 our estimate of other ages is not difficult; it 
 is impossible." It is not for us therefore to 
 estimate the sin of men and women who had 
 been sworn to a holy life during the Middle 
 
164 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Ages. No darker records can be shown than 
 those of the unnameable atrocities committed 
 here; but perhaps the Church herself is most 
 to blame for creating conditions so productive 
 of temptation. Would tliat we knew more of 
 the saintly lives that were lived amid the 
 voluptuous infamy of abbey and nunnery! 
 At St. Alban's were a few men who devoted 
 their lives to the making of beautiful books 
 and to the recording of their country's history. 
 Roger of Wendover left a most valuable ac- 
 coimt of the signing of IMagna Charta; Mat- 
 thew Paris wrote frankly of papal extortion 
 and of all the chief events in the history of 
 his day. 
 
 When we saw the market booths in the 
 square at St. Alban's we were glad we had 
 declined a matinee at Terry's Theater. Our 
 transoceanic hurry is always dispelled by a 
 market. To saunter admiringly past the pale 
 golden pats of butter, to stroll by waving laces 
 and ribbons or loiter among the color and 
 aroma of flowers and baskets of fruit, is in- 
 evitable to market-going. We had to seize 
 firmly upon the certainty that guide books, 
 cameras, and parasols bear no light part in a 
 fatiguing though delightful day to successful- 
 ly combat temptation to buy of the market's 
 wares. 
 
St, Albans 165 
 
 The market place is on the summit of a hill 
 at the meeting of several ways. We passed 
 therefrom regretfully, but were so fickle as to 
 instantly become enamored of sundry ancient 
 timbered houses leaning awry among the less 
 picturesque but more practicable edifices of 
 our own day. After lunching at the Peahen 
 we sought and soon found, beyond a little 
 alley on the downward slope, St. Alban's Ab- 
 bey church, which has been an Anglican Ca- 
 thedral since 1877. 
 
 Though the English are conservative, and 
 their British predecessors were not a progres- 
 sive people, there remains in Great Britain — 
 save at Bath and the Isle of Wight — not so 
 much as a column to testify to the glory that 
 was Roman during the five hundred years 
 that these conquerors occupied the island. 
 How we of to-day would have venerated a 
 tiny temple of Vesta or a triumphal arch over 
 the Watling Street erected to Suetonius or to 
 Csesar himself, who came as far as Verulam. 
 We must perforce be content with walls, with 
 bricks, with pots and trinkets that have been 
 exhumed. 
 
 When the Normans brought their love of 
 beauty and their skilled masons across the 
 Channel, they either destroyed in Christian 
 zeal the buildings left by the pagans, or else — 
 
166 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 consciously or unconsciously — they employed 
 pagan materials in the erection of Christian 
 temples. It is presumable that Saxons and 
 Danes permitted Roman buildings to stand; 
 else how came so many Roman bricks in Nor- 
 man castles and churches? 
 
 St. Alban's Abbey church is a distinct dis- 
 appointment to the seeker after things as they 
 were. It is also a disappointment to lovers of 
 architectural beauty. Of the abbey itself, 
 chief of Hertfordshire's monastic buildings 
 during the JNIiddle Ages, only the gateway re- 
 mains — a really beautiful remnant of a once 
 beautiful whole. 
 
 When Henry VIII was giving away church 
 properties, the abbey church of St. Alban was 
 granted to Sir Richard Lee. During the 
 reign of Edward VI the inhabitants of the 
 town purchased it for a parish church. It had 
 suffered much during the parliamentary wars 
 from the rapacity of troops and from prison- 
 ers confined within it. The first impression of 
 the church is of a vast, ugly structure, utterly 
 incongruous and inharmonious. Its elaborate 
 new pink front looks as though it were pinned 
 on like an apron to conceal a torn or spotted 
 garment. The donor, we are told, of the sev- 
 eral hundred thousand pounds which paid for 
 this false front, was possessed of a cocksure- 
 
=0 
 
 I- 
 
 -Si 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 
St Albans 167 
 
 ness of his own architectural skill, and thus 
 perpetuated an expression of Lord Grim- 
 thorpe's monumental bad taste. Oh, that his 
 money had been tainted and the gift refused! 
 
 We walked about the great church seeking 
 something beautiful or admirable. Its vast 
 length, second longest of any English cathe- 
 dral, inspired only amazement at the extent 
 to which ugliness may be carried. Its emi- 
 nence — somewhat more than three hundred 
 feet above sea level and the highest of any 
 English cathedral — we appreciated later in 
 the day, when we saw it from a distance. In 
 our circumambient exploration, however, we 
 found an occasional bit of Norman work; and 
 near the foundation some Roman bricks were 
 interspersed amid the masonry. The Lady 
 Chapel looks like a lovely branch grafted upon 
 a barren tree. 
 
 Great zeal has been employed in restoring 
 the interior, wherein a potpourri of Norman, 
 Early English, and Decorated styles plays 
 havoc with an already dizzied observer. In 
 the Lady Chapel, however, we found more 
 harmony. Some beautiful bits of old mold- 
 ings, capitals, figures of saints, and other orna- 
 mental details of the abbey in its heyday that 
 had been incorporated in the wall, gave us as 
 much pleasure as anything in the whole great 
 
168 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 church. On one of the piers in the nave a 
 faded fresco recalled those of Giotto in Flor- 
 ence. In the north transept are some fine 
 old tiles with the fleur-de-lys of France in the 
 center. The old glass is easily descried, for 
 its mellow light emphasizes the crude color of. 
 the new. One beautiful door remains. 
 
 The shrine of St. Alban is no longer heaped, 
 like St. Anne de Beaupre, with trophies of the 
 miraculous cures it once effected. The oaken 
 Watching Gallery no longer throngs with 
 closely hooded nuns looking down upon the 
 shrine. 
 
 " Bless me! " exclaimed Diana; " they made 
 a saint of the truant Amphibalus after all. I 
 have been rather sorry that he was so short- 
 sighted as to prefer the tall timber to canon- 
 ization as a martyr. I wonder, though, how 
 he managed to get into the Calendar? Let's 
 go back to the Presbytery and see the frag- 
 ments of his shrine." 
 
 The poetical attempts of certain bereaved 
 persons are sometimes too interesting to be 
 overlooked or forgotten, although the reader's 
 point of view may not always coincide with 
 that of the writer: 
 
 To THE Memore of Margery Rowlatt 
 Wife to John Maynard Esquire. 
 
St Albans 169 
 
 Here lies intomb'd a woman worthie fame 
 
 Whose vertuos life gives honor to her name 
 
 Few were her years, she died in her prime 
 
 Yet in the worlde fulfilled she much tyme 
 
 Which vertuously she spent providinge still 
 
 The hungry bellies of the poore to fill 
 
 Unto the God of heaven, thrice every day 
 
 Her prayers were heard God knewe her harts deser 
 
 And gave her heaven for her eternal hier 
 
 Where nowe she doth enjoye that endles blis 
 
 Which her redeemer purchased for his." 
 
 Another speaks with surety of the destiny 
 of the departed: 
 
 To THE Memorie of Raffe Maynard 
 
 The man that's buried in this tombe 
 
 In heavenly Canaan hath a roome 
 
 A gentleman of antient name 
 
 Who had to wife a vertuous dame 
 
 They lived together in goodlie sorte 
 
 Fortie five years with good reporte 
 
 When seaventie and seaven yeares he had spent 
 
 His soule to his Redeemer went 
 
 His body by will hereunder 13'es 
 
 Still barkening for the great assies 
 
 When Christ the judge of quick and dead 
 
 Shall raise him from this earthly bedd 
 
 And give him heavens eternal blisse 
 
 To live and raigne with saints of his. 
 
 As we passed into the town again and 
 looked down a steep road which we beheved 
 
170 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 tended toward Berkhampstead and whose 
 directness proclaimed it a Roman road, we 
 spoke of the occasion when Duke Wilham 
 with his army was advancing along the Wat- 
 ling Street into his newly acquired domain and 
 was stopped by Frederic, abbot of St. Albans, 
 who, though a preacher of meekness and peace, 
 nevertheless compelled the Conqueror to swear 
 in an assembly of clergy and nobles to govern 
 according to the laws of his real predecessor 
 on England's throne — Edward the Confessor. 
 The domains of this abbey extended at that 
 time through Essex Forest as far as London 
 Stone. If William made fair promises in the 
 moment of victory he quickly forgot them, and 
 retaliated by seizing half of the abbey's forest 
 lands, which he cleared of their timber and 
 through which he opened roads. The brave 
 Frederic was accused of treason and driven 
 into the fens of Ely, where death overtook him. 
 But for the intercession of Lanfranc, William 
 had put the abbey to the torch. Stripped of 
 its wealth it was; and a Norman abbot re- 
 placed the monks' idle extravagance with rigid 
 discipline. 
 
 When Piers Gaveston in the time of the sec- 
 ond Edward — who was really the fifth — pud- 
 dled the politics of England, the barons who 
 were confederated against him massed their 
 
St. Albans 171 
 
 troops at Whethampstead, also near St. Al- 
 bans. When Isabella, the " She Wolf of 
 France," came to St. Albans — in the same 
 year that King Edward was deposed and mur- 
 dered, and England was at the " mercy " of 
 herself and Mortimer — a mob of outraged citi- 
 zens clamored about her carriage for justice. 
 The queen, who could not understand Enghsh, 
 appealed to one of her lords to translate. His 
 reply was a lie full of coarse insult to the peo- 
 ple. Annoyed by the interruption she com- 
 manded her coachman to proceed, and gave 
 thenceforth to these downtrodden folk but an 
 insolent stare. They, however, were fired to 
 action. Robbed long enough by the monks and 
 scorned by royalty they attacked the abbey, 
 which narrowly escaped being razed. When 
 Edward III, a lad of eighteen, succeeded in 
 asserting his rights, Mortimer was killed and 
 the queen imprisoned. The monks of St. Al- 
 ban's Abbey were compelled to grant justice 
 to their townsmen; but when the king was 
 busy elsewhere, Richard of Wallingford — the 
 blacksmith abbot, who invented a remarkable 
 astronomical clock — again subjugated the pa- 
 tient townsmen to extortion. 
 
 On that same Corpus Christi day, when Wat 
 Tyler and his men of Kent entered London, a 
 mob, led by William Grindcobbe, came pour- 
 
172 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 ing into the town of St. Albans amid welcom- 
 ing shouts from farmers and citizens. Strange 
 that another Richard of Wallingford should 
 have shared Grindcobhe's lead and demanded 
 the capitulation of tlie abbey where the previ- 
 ous Richard had held dominion! The social- 
 ism of Wat Tyler was not yet mature enough 
 for continuance; but it was a safety valve for 
 the people who had been oppressed by church 
 and state in all parts of England and were 
 waiting for a leader; and something had been 
 gained. INIobs have done much for the Eng- 
 lish people, for the time is past when a king 
 of that land can say: 
 
 " Clowns ye have been and clowns ye are. 
 In your bondage shall ye remain ; not as here- 
 tofore, but infinitely worse. So long as I live 
 and reign I will make you an example to 
 future ages." 
 
 The j^eople, like children, are ever ready to 
 believe promises; and when promises had been 
 made by the insincere crown or prelate they 
 crawled humbly to the oppressors' feet, 
 supplicating pardon — they, the oppressed! 
 Perhaps the fate of tlie rebellious leaders 
 intimidated the men of St. Albans. Grind- 
 cobbe and thirteen others were hanged here. 
 John Ball, famous as the author of the 
 lines 
 
St. Albans 173 
 
 When Adam dalf and Eve span, 
 Who was thanne a gentleman? 
 
 was brought to St. Alban's a month after his 
 triumphal entry into London ; and in the pres- 
 ence of the timid boy King Richard II, who 
 was protected by a thousand men at arms, he 
 was hanged, drawn, and quartered. Then the 
 king went hunting, not having had enough of 
 blood, and the citizens of St. Albans took 
 down from the gibbets the bodies of their 
 friends and buried them. The royal order re- 
 quired the bodies exhumed and again hung 
 upon the gallows tree; and right meekly was 
 it obeyed! 
 
 The modern town of St. Albans on its hill 
 is separated from the ancient one of Verulam 
 by the river Ver. Before Csesar's legions in- 
 vaded Albion there had been a British settle- 
 ment here, in which the Romans established 
 themselves after having driven out or mur- 
 dered the inhabitants, as was their polite cus- 
 tom. 
 
 The peaceable Britons, so oft preyed upon 
 by foreign foes, seldom made so notable a 
 stand for freedom as when Boadicea — or Voa- 
 dicea, as Holinshed calls her — sole leader of 
 her oppressed people against the invaders, 
 assembled her army here and herself com- 
 
174 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 manded the British in a battle that slaugh- 
 tered seventy thousand Romans and their 
 allies. Verulam was destroyed; but the re- 
 maining Romans restored it, and its impor- 
 tance as a military station lasted until they 
 left England. 
 
 We stood looking at the fields where once a 
 lake had been, or where the little Ver had 
 flowed in fuller stream in that far-gone day 
 when Alban prayed its division for the multi- 
 tude. Now beyond the sparkling river be- 
 hold! a considerable fragment of Roman wall 
 marks unto this day the boundary of Roman 
 Verulam. We crossed the Ver and followed a 
 path ; doubtless it was the same which the mar- 
 t\Ted Alban had trod nearly two thousand 
 years ago, followed by the throngs who wished 
 to see the show that was furnished by his 
 gibbet on Holniliurst Hill. The path fol- 
 lowed another part of the Roman wall now 
 almost concealed by clustering vines and the 
 dense foliage of trees and shrubs. Again we 
 loitered, drinking in present beauty while we 
 talked of past ugliness, the path terminating 
 at last beside a broad highway. 
 
 Light-hearted we took to the open road, 
 which, after dipping and curving between the 
 borders of Verulam on the one side and fertile 
 farms on the other, brought us to the Watling 
 
' — ^ 
 
 5!5 
 
 
 
 5tt 
 
 s 
 
St. Albans 175 
 
 Street, pointing straight as an arrow toward 
 London and toward Dunstable. We followed 
 it until we came to St. Michael's Church, one 
 of the three that Ulsig, sixth abbot of St. 
 Albans, had built on the three principal high- 
 ways that led pious pilgrims to the shrine of 
 the " first Briton which to heaven led the 
 noble army of martyrs." St. Michael's 
 Church boasts of possessing the tomb of Fran- 
 cis Bacon, who was Baron Verulam and Vis- 
 count of St. Albans. Lord Bacon, the Lord 
 Chancellor of England, a greater man than 
 *' Steenie " — favorite of James I — was found 
 guilty of receiving bribes and by king and Par- 
 liament was stripped of his official robes. 
 Strangely enough the evil that he did lives 
 not after him, for he is better known to-day as 
 the author of pretty philosophical essays that 
 every schoolgirl includes with Ruskin and 
 Emerson as " just too lovely," and as the 
 posthumous pretender to authorship of the 
 plays of Shakespeare than as a heinous crimi- 
 nal. He died in 1623 at Gorhambury House, 
 his beautiful home near St. Albans. 
 
 While Diana tried the church door Sonia 
 read a card that stated the keys to be obtain- 
 able at 13 St. Michael's Cottages. 
 
 Said Diana, sinking wearily upon the cool 
 grass of the churchyard: " I don't want to see 
 
176 Ways and Dai/s Out of London 
 
 ' sic sedebat ' enough to compel me to hunt 
 for St. IMichael's Cottages. We have had a 
 dehghtful walk; let us rest here a while and 
 perhaps we shall have better luck at St. 
 Stephen's. He may keep his keys nearer his 
 door." 
 
 " St. Stephen's," observed Sonia, intent 
 upon a guide book, " is about as far from the 
 town as St. JNIichael's — but in the opposite 
 direction." 
 
 The value of St. Stephen's Chin-ch instantly 
 " broke," and fell way below par in our esti- 
 mation. We sat tlierefore in the shadow of 
 a yew reading and talking of Ulsig, the abbot 
 who had built tlie three churches and whose 
 memory is the pleasanter because he was one 
 of the few whose lives were devoted to the good 
 of the townsmen of St. Albans. He it was 
 who laid out the market place and encouraged 
 the people to build, by loaning them not merely 
 monev, but materials. 
 
 The monks of St. Alban's Abbey had 
 friends in high places. There came a time 
 when the abbot was made a peer of the realm; 
 and when Nicholas Breakspeare — the only 
 Englishman who has worn the papal ring — 
 became the head of the church he granted to 
 this abbey's executive many special privileges, 
 among which was precedence over all other 
 
St. Alhans 177 
 
 English abbots. If they had all been such men 
 as Ulsig, what a glorious history had been that 
 of St. Alban's Abbey! 
 
 " It is difficult to believe," Diana observed, 
 " that a place so peaceful as St. Albans is 
 to-day could have been the scene of so much 
 bloodshed and horror. I had forgotten that 
 two important battles during the Wars of the 
 Roses occurred here." 
 
 While the Duke of York, with whom were 
 the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, was jour- 
 neying toward London at the head of three 
 thousand men with intent to seize his Grace of 
 Somserset, who had been impeached of treason 
 by the House of Commons, they found St. 
 Albans occupied by the king, who had come 
 from London with his army of two thousand 
 to impede their progress. After the battle, 
 when the victorious York came to beseech 
 pardon of his royal prisoner, Henry, hater of 
 war, prayed of him : 
 
 " Let there be no more killing then, and I 
 will do whatever you will have me." 
 
 Six years later, in 1461, Henry's queen — 
 Margaret of Anjou, who should have been a 
 man — having vanquished and slain the Duke 
 of York, was returning to London, and was 
 met near St. Albans by the Yorkists under 
 Warwick, accompanied by their prisoner the 
 
178 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 king. The Lancastrians won and the king's 
 release was obtained. 
 
 " Was not this the battle in which the newly- 
 knighted John Grey was slain? " asked Diana. 
 
 " I think so," Sonia responded, " and the 
 weeping but lovely - in - her - tears widow 
 promptly and picturesquely sought the com- 
 passion of the royal Edward, who had recently 
 supplanted Henry the Timid. The minx, if 
 you remember, got him into a fine predica- 
 ment by marrying him despite his honor- 
 bright promise to the French princess." 
 
 " Yes, and she managed to install her rela- 
 tives in the Blue Book before Warwick suc- 
 ceeded in driving the faithless Edward from 
 England and herself to Westminster Abbey 
 for sanctuary. Who shall sav she lived in vain 
 or that her dear John's demise was wholly as 
 disastrous as she represented to the suscep- 
 tible Edward? Here come some people to see 
 the church! Perhaps they will fetch the key." 
 
 The small boy of the party was sent for it; 
 and we saw Lord Bacon's monument. 
 
 Our return to the to\Mi was by way of a 
 green lane bordering a field of " corn." On 
 the tiny bridge across the Ver we paused to 
 look at its pretty curv^e. 
 
 ISIuch has been said in these chapters of 
 tea; yet tea is so much a part of the day in 
 
St Albans 179 
 
 England, and the tea hour brought us to so 
 many delightful places, that this British bev- 
 erage may oft again recur. On this after- 
 noon a little street beginning at the bridge 
 disclosed a tiny inn — the Fighting Cocks — 
 which claims, as do many others, to be the 
 oldest inn in England. Certainly this was 
 the quaintest in our experience. Beside the 
 entrance blooms a triangular bit of garden. 
 A larger one overlooks the river. Diana's 
 stately head collided with the ceiling as we 
 passed through the old tap room, the cockpit, 
 and the kitchen, where a bright kettle steamed 
 on a real hob. While we awaited tea in the 
 riverside garden Sonia played with a cat that 
 did not want to be photographed and Diana 
 wished for the brush of a Hobbema to paint 
 the silvery sky and far-reaching fields. 
 
 Ascending into the town again we inquired 
 as to the whereabouts of the Sopwell Nunnery, 
 and were relieved to learn that it was not near 
 enough for us to seek it in the brief interval 
 that remained before train time. There can 
 be no sentimentalizing by us over this Nun- 
 nery, of which so little that is good is known. 
 Even the ruins, as we saw them in a photo- 
 graph, seemed utterly uninteresting. They 
 might have been the walls of a half -burned 
 factory. 
 
180 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 The holy well that was so miraculously 
 potent while St. Alban's shrine retained its 
 efficacy, and that had been summoned into 
 existence by the martyr's prayer on the day 
 of his execution when he, being athirst, prayed 
 for somewhat to slake his suffering, has been 
 " filled in," we were told. 
 
 At the station we climbed into a third-class 
 carriage on a train that we hurried to catch. 
 
 " Are you sure this is the train for Lon- 
 don?" asked Sonia, usually confident in her 
 friend's capability. 
 
 " I asked a newsboy, a porter, two male pas- 
 sengers, a woman, and a boy," she replied, 
 short of breath and with a dash of scorn. So- 
 nia, still unconvinced, leaned out and called 
 to a guard who had slanmied the door. 
 
 " Is this train for London? " 
 
 " No ! You should be on platform number 
 three. Up the stairs and over the bridge. 
 Here it comes now! You will have to hurry." 
 
 " It really seems," averred Diana, when the 
 " right train " had shrieked and started, and 
 we had leaned out for a last look at St. Al- 
 ban's Cathedral — somewhat borrowing en- 
 chantment from distance — " as though Lon- 
 don is determined to be as inhospitable as she 
 is captivating." 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 The Henley Regatta and Down the Thames 
 
 to Maidenhead 
 
 AT Paddington we looked about for signs 
 ±\, of regatta enthusiasm such as would ob- 
 tain in Grand Central Station on Yale-Har- 
 vard day; but we saw none. Some one has 
 said that the Englishman takes his pleasure 
 sadly. Certain it is that he takes it leisurely; 
 for the inter-university rowing races which oc- 
 cur annually on the Thames at Henley are of 
 three days' duration. We had chosen the last 
 day because of probable finals and greatest 
 interest. Signs of the Stream of Pleasure's 
 magnetism became plentiful as our train ap- 
 proached Henley. Beflanneled men carried 
 oars and luncheon baskets; beruffled girls 
 bore parasols and boat cushions. Everybody 
 smiled happily. At the station all was gayety 
 and pleasurable excitement. Almost we ex- 
 
 181 
 
182 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 pected that some of the tall young men in the 
 bright blazers of their colleges, or perhaps one 
 of the clean-shaven clergymen were awaiting 
 us. But none among them greeted us, and 
 we passed into the street, where vendors of 
 Japanese parasols, regatta programmes, and 
 post cards w ere not so willing to let us proceed 
 unnoticed. 
 
 We had engaged rooms at the White Hart 
 at inauguration prices rather than return to 
 London on a crowded train. We were also 
 forethoughtful of another day on the river. 
 
 A kind-hearted and frugal bobby told us 
 the White Hart was " just over there," and 
 we walked nearly half a mile in the hot sun, 
 past several inns dedicated to various mem- 
 bers of the royal anatomy and to highly col- 
 ored wild beasts ere we perceived the golden 
 letters on the White Hart's modest facade. 
 We should have profited by our experience en 
 route to Boulter's Lock from the ISIaidenhead 
 Station; but who could doubt the accuracy 
 of a rosy-cheeked bobby whose blue eyes looked 
 so honest? 
 
 We searched vainly for the entrance; but 
 there seemed to be none save that to the tap- 
 room. Midway through a driveway into a 
 large courtyard an entrance was at length re- 
 vealed. While Sonia spoke of the beauty of 
 
The Henley Regatta 183 
 
 the ivy-lined court and deplored the necessity 
 of great signs indicative of the prices of meals, 
 Diana sought a means of announcing the 
 arrival of guests to whom it might concern; 
 for the door was open and nothing human was 
 visible beyond it. She found a brass-handled 
 bell rope beneath an oval plate on which was 
 graven Boots. She pulled the bell rope tim- 
 orously and raised such a clamor somewhere 
 within that she was mischievously tempted to 
 test the result of a vigorous pull. This was 
 prevented by the appearance of a woman who, 
 after examining our credentials, pulled another 
 bell and bade a housemaid show us to our 
 apartments. 
 
 " Feather beds! " gasped Sonia. " Well, it 
 is only for one night ; and do you see that dear 
 little casement window? " 
 
 Diana caressed the leaded diamond panes 
 and opened the casement, which admitted a 
 great waft of fragrance from tall syringas. 
 Beyond them we descried a many-angled roof 
 that may have been a part of the inn. Its seem- 
 ingly purposeless gables and tiny eyelike 
 windows winking among age-mellowed tiles 
 were more like old Nurnberg than, we sup- 
 posed, England. Still farther away a clock 
 striking eleven bade us notice the fine church 
 tower that held it. 
 
184 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 "You are very nice," said Sonia; "but I 
 think if some one were to tell me that Julius 
 Caesar had been crowned in your church on 
 Washington's birthday by the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, I should say: 'No; we are not 
 sight-seeing to-day. We are here to behold 
 a spectacle.' " 
 
 " Perhaps we had better be off, then," sug- 
 gested Diana, shaking out the folds of her 
 sunshade. 
 
 Our rooms gave into a long narrow corridor 
 whose windows indicated that it bounded the 
 courtyard on at least two sides. We spoke 
 of the embryo theaters in AVill Shakspeare's 
 day and those earlier jNIiracles and ISIysteries 
 that were j^laj'ed in just such places. The 
 woman in charge of the inn overheard us in 
 passing. She paused to tell us that the White 
 Hart has undoubtedly existed since the year 
 1600, and may have been erected somewhat 
 earlier. This corridor had been an open gal- 
 lery, and Elizabethan players are known to 
 have performed in the j^ard. As in all the 
 inns we had seen, there were here many pieces 
 of rich old mahogany and rosewood; chairs, 
 tables, sofas in the corridors ; tall clocks on the 
 stair landings and gilt mirrors on the walls; 
 old willow china and Crown Derby in draw- 
 ing-room or banqueting hall. 
 

The Henley Regatta 185 
 
 On Henley's strong stone bridge we paused 
 and leaned upon the rail while we looked down 
 the long regatta course against whose green 
 shores hundreds of punts were drawn in readi- 
 ness for hire. The vivid color of flags and 
 pennants amid the green gave a gala atmos- 
 phere, although the stirring human element 
 was still lacking. In the garden of the Red 
 Lion Inn on the river bank were tables and 
 chairs, mutely inviting mankind to refect un- 
 der the free heaven and in the shade of trees. 
 On both banks of the stream long lines of 
 gaily draped stands and marquees awaited 
 the regatta's interested spectators. 
 
 When, a fortnight earlier, we had noticed 
 in our morning paper an advertisement of the 
 Henley Regatta, we instantly determined to 
 " take it in." Our English friends, one of 
 whom had once been to Henley, directed us 
 to a bookseller in the Earl's Court Road who 
 could furnish tickets to an inclosure known 
 as Phyllis Court. We told him we could go 
 only one day, preferably the last. The tickets 
 would be a guinea each, he remarked in a care- 
 less, offhand manner; but if we would econo- 
 mize we would better subscribe the extremely 
 low amount of two pounds ten, and thus be 
 enabled to attend the entire three days' re- 
 gatta. Paternal letters of credit, howsoever 
 
186 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 generous, have limitations, and the extent of 
 our past peregrinations and future plans sug- 
 gested the wisdom of avoiding unnecessary 
 extravagance. In view of the inn's tariff and 
 probable incidentals we frugally concluded to 
 forego the Court of Phyllis and seek a less 
 costly coign of vantage. 
 
 When a woman economizes, she usually 
 ends by spending more than if she had bought 
 the thing of which she is denying herself, and 
 burdens herself or others with makeshifts. 
 Makeshifts are the most costly of purchases; 
 because instead of the right thing at the right 
 price, the makeshift means sacrifice of com- 
 fort and convenience, plus entire absence of 
 satisfaction, whereas the supposed saving of 
 expenditure results in a sum total of unfore- 
 seen extras which the higher price might have 
 included. 
 
 We had our experience. 
 
 Looking down from the Henley Bridge we 
 saw Phyllis Court, cool, shady. The Empire 
 Stand, on which we had secured numbered 
 seats at half a guinea, we descried after much 
 search on the opposite side of the Thames. 
 
 "Not so bad!" was our first half-hearted 
 expression of comment. The first race was 
 scheduled for one o'clock. The church clock 
 now vibrated solemnly the noon hour. Re- 
 
The Henley Regatta 187 
 
 member ing Yale- Harvard day along the 
 sound we marveled that so few beholders had 
 yet appeared on this long-established occa- 
 sion. Through a trampled field, past grand- 
 stands galore, malformed mendicants, and 
 vendors who out-Conied Coney Island, we at 
 last presented our pink tickets and climbed 
 upon the Empire Stand. It was vast and 
 empty, save for an usher and ourselves. 
 
 " I am glad we came early," said Diana, 
 panting a little; for we had hurried lest any- 
 thing interesting be " missed." 
 
 " It will be nice," assented Sonia, " to see 
 the gathering of the clans." 
 
 " I don't want to be skeptical," Diana re- 
 marked after a time, a dead weight of forebod- 
 ing anchoring the spirit that loved to soar on 
 the wings of enthusiasm, " but I believe we 
 are on the wrong side of the river. The shade 
 of these trees will desert us and our nice front 
 seats will be in the full blaze of the sun." 
 
 Sonia hoped her friend was mistaken. 
 
 A centipede-like shell came up the smooth 
 stream coached by a man on a polo pony can- 
 tering along the bank, who managed bridle 
 and megaphone with much skill. 
 
 The long line of stands of which the em- 
 pire was one were set back some little distance 
 from the river. Evidently the space served 
 
188 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 for promenaders. Some way down the river 
 a row of houseboats was moored to the oppo- 
 site poplar-bordered shore. They w^re deco- 
 rated with bright flowers and awnings; and 
 from each masthead hung a flag. On one Old 
 Glory lay as limply as did the Union Jacks 
 hard by. Could they all be weary of three 
 days' regatting? Perish the thought so early 
 in the day! Gradually j)unts were pushed 
 into midstream and seemed to be enjoying a 
 leisurely uneasiness. The women in fair rai- 
 ment lolled comfortably luider gaily colored 
 sunshades. Their cavaliers, standing to wield 
 the long punting poles, displayed much of the 
 lithe grace of gondoliers. Other crews 
 " warmed up " under megaphonic instruction. 
 There was promise of something to happen ere 
 long. A sloe-eyed gypsy with a beautiful ])ut 
 dirty baby in her arms solicited silver that she 
 might tell our fortunes. Some negro minstrels 
 came along, serenaded, went. We were until 
 now sole occupants of a stand large enough 
 to accommodate several hundred people. A 
 half dozen noisy girls and men, with the easily 
 provoked laugh of bourgeois birth seated 
 themselves at the far end. A continuous suc- 
 cession of performers selected henceforth the 
 newcomers as an audience, and with singular 
 discrimination passed us by — to our infinite 
 
The Henley Regatta 189 
 
 relief. A ballad-bawling man having passed 
 his butterfly net and collected a few coppers, 
 Diana turned wearily and said to her friend: 
 
 " I thought we came here to see boat rac- 
 ing; but it appears we unwittingly engaged 
 seats for a worse than concert-hall show. I 
 never realized until now how much glamour is 
 contributed by the limelight, or how utterly 
 tawdry and banal the cruel sunlight shows 
 such mummery to be." 
 
 " Something is going to happen now! " ex- 
 claimed Sonia, the optimist. 
 
 A launch came up the course and drove the 
 punts toward the shores of the river, clearing 
 the way for the first race. Far below a pistol 
 shot was heard; and at length two very lively 
 centipedes skimmed past while a mild wave of 
 voices evidently wished to encourage but not 
 to alarm with too much vehemence. One or 
 two men shouted; one of the boats won the 
 race; then the punters pushed out into mid- 
 stream again and the itinerant vaudeville con- 
 tinued. All the folk on land and water seemed 
 relieved that the interruption had ceased. 
 
 Sonia looked wistfully over the heads of two 
 perspiring tumblers in collarless and coatless 
 street attire and the fourth-class audience 
 they sought to amuse to Phyllis Court across 
 the river, where women of our own sort 
 
190 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 strolled about or sat in easy chairs on the 
 shady riverside terrace. With our persons 
 were we paying far more than we had saved 
 in shillings on that fateful day of economy. 
 
 " If I could have a coat of arms," said Diana 
 wistfullv, "I should inscribe: 'The best or 
 nothing ' upon it." 
 
 " Suppose we go to the luncheon tent now," 
 said Sonia. " Perhaps there will be a rush 
 later, and we have an hour to spare — or kill — 
 before the next race." We sought the neces- 
 sary ticket seller. Signs were plentiful, ad- 
 vertising luncheons at half a crown. 
 
 '* Seven and six each," said the ticket seller 
 in a tone intended to convey the notion that 
 this was the last word. Poor Diana, bearer 
 of joint funds, who abominates bickering, at 
 length secured what she at first requested — 
 two half-crown tickets. With flushed faces 
 and no appetite we approached the tents whose 
 tables were heavily spread in readiness for 
 people M'ho did not come and whose waiters 
 were disconsolately idle. We seated ourselves. 
 A waiter asked to see our tickets. 
 
 " You must have seven-and-sixpenny tick- 
 ets," he said. 
 
 " No," replied Diana, who was having some- 
 thing too much of this, " I should not. Are 
 vou serving any luncheons for two and six? " 
 
-a 
 
The Henley Regatta 191 
 
 " Yes, miss, in the next tent." 
 
 Seated in the " next tent," another waiter 
 demanded a five-shilhng ticket. Again we 
 rose in our wrath and proceeded. We were 
 the more enraged and humihated by the knowl- 
 edge that had we been in Phylhs Court there 
 Avould have been no extra charge for luncheon. 
 The only comfort in the present situation was 
 that we had disposed of some of the superflu- 
 ous time. The following race was "eights" 
 instead of " fours." That was about the only 
 difference — the number of legs on each centi- 
 pede. Then came an interval of two hours. 
 The space before the stand was thronged with 
 people, classified by the scornful Diana as 
 " among the lower orders of animal life." The 
 heat was intense; our seats were in the full 
 rays of the sun, and what with this and utter 
 ennui we were sorely tempted by the sweet 
 seductiveness of sleep. We had nothing to talk 
 about, nothing to do. The charm of the river 
 was destroyed by the inescapable foreground. 
 To force a way through throngs of perspiring 
 Britons to our hotel was not to be imagined. 
 We had bought seats for a " bargain matinee," 
 and we had not yet wholly paid for them. So 
 we nodded hea^dly in invertebrate discomfort 
 during the long two hours, while organettes 
 wheezed of " Poppies," brazen-voiced women 
 
192 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 shrieked of " Violets," and a cornet blew blasts 
 of " Sourire d'Avril." We gave money to 
 them all, silently grateful because their per- 
 formances were addressed to the other end of 
 the otherwise empty Empire Stand. A man on 
 long-skirted stilts cavorted for the delectation 
 of the gawping yokels, who should have been 
 wearing smocks and chewing straws. He also 
 glanced at us and passed comprehendingly to 
 the loudly laughing folk at the stand's lower 
 end. 
 
 " The Henley Regatta," said Sonia scorn- 
 fully, " is no regatta at all. It is a county 
 fair; a pretext for giving the British public a 
 holiday — three successive ones." 
 
 " The marvel is," averred Diana, " that the 
 British public can enjoy it. But it does. 
 These vermin here — I am uncharitable — pre- 
 fer mountebanks; the folk there on the river, 
 lunching, sleeping, or reading, are pleasing 
 themselves after their own manner; and those 
 lovely ladies over there in that heavenly Phyl- 
 lis Court are the most contented of all." 
 
 We went out to the luncheon tent in quest 
 of something liquid. Diana said she was dying 
 for an ice-cream soda, and would drink no 
 more warm ApoUinaris, so we compromised 
 on lemon squash — iceless, of course. 
 
 When a shot announced the coming of the 
 
The Henley Regatta 193 
 
 half -past-three race, Diana avowed willingness 
 to give a golden guinea to hear just one Amer- 
 ican college " yell." 
 
 '* How can they expect anybody to be in- 
 terested in their old races after making us wait 
 these horrible two hours? And who is inter- 
 ested in the races but the racers?" Thus 
 Sonia. 
 
 When Eton had won some cup or other, 
 and the lukewarm enthusiasm had ceased, we 
 forced our way to the bridge, from which we 
 looked down on the day's most interesting 
 scene — a long, broad stretch of boat-strewn 
 river ; on both sides the deep green of midsum- 
 mer England. Where was the Fortuny to 
 immortalize the sparkle of so brilliant a dis- 
 play? The rich tone of St. Mary's bell ad- 
 vised that tea time and cool rooms at the White 
 Hart were at hand. 
 
 The day's programme had included an " im- 
 posing pyrotechnic exhibition " as a fit conclu- 
 sion to so brilliant an occasion. In the early 
 dusk we entered St. INIary's churchyard and 
 paused to look at a row of pleasant almshouses 
 that faced it. A young man in evening clothes 
 passed us, returned and said, his hat doffed: 
 
 "Pardon me! are you ladies looking for 
 the lane to Phyllis Court? " Earlier in the 
 day this would have been a rapier thrust. 
 
194 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 When he had gone beyond overhearing Diana 
 said: 
 
 " I love that dear boy for thinking we look 
 as though we were going to Phyllis Court. 
 He has poured balm upon my wounded spirit." 
 
 In the darkness we paused to admire the 
 homelike rooms in the almshouses, which were 
 now revealed by their lighted lamps. The 
 shriek of a rocket warned us that the impos- 
 ing pyrotechnic exhibition was beginning. 
 We hastened to the river bank, where a few 
 village folk and motors were grouped. With 
 them we patiently waited. Persuading our- 
 selves at length that we had mistaken the 
 rocket-line sound, we perceived the colored fire 
 from a single Roman candle jerked off ball 
 by ball. Another long wait terminated in an- 
 other rocket. Then we laughed and went 
 back to the White Hart's feather beds. 
 
 The morning dawned chill and damp with 
 impending rain. Despite a remarkably rain- 
 less summer, we had been true to the tradi- 
 tional necessity for rain coats and umbrellas. 
 The littered shores of the river looked like the 
 aftermath of a country circus. Even on the 
 river itself we were all day subject to annoy- 
 ances due to the Henley Regatta. Raftloads 
 of punts clogged the locks and delayed the 
 uncomplaining steamer somewhat more than 
 
The Henley Regatta 195 
 
 an hour in its fifteen-mile transit between Hen- 
 ley and Maidenhead. 
 
 Sky and river were gray ; there was no hori- 
 zon. Mist lay upon the meadows, and yet we, 
 whom yesterday had bored, thought this day 
 delightful. 
 
 We were surprised to find that on the little 
 steamer were but few passengers. Those who 
 preceded us had preempted all the dozen or so 
 hard, flat cushions mercifully provided to ease 
 the discomfort of the boat's gridiron-like seats. 
 
 The worn trail of the regatta past, it was 
 good to see only green fields and banks un- 
 trodden by humans. 
 
 We had strolled about Henley on the pre- 
 vious afternoon and found it pleasant; but 
 there was little to suggest the town's great age. 
 The Britons had a station there called Hanle- 
 gang. But Henley boasts no historic thrills, 
 though there is still standing in front of the 
 grammar school an elm tree from which a 
 Roundhead spy was hanged. A skirmish oc- 
 curred here during the civil war. The Blue- 
 coat School, now merged in the grammar 
 school, was founded by a sister of Lord Bacon 
 of St. Albans. Henley is famous for the 
 regatta chiefly. 
 
 Phyllis Court, our Pleasaunce of Dreams, 
 was once the royal residence of the Prince of 
 
196 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Orange, but is now one of the many clubs to 
 which the river has given rise. 
 
 At Hambleden Lock an old man disturbed 
 our pleasure in the ivy-clad cottage and the 
 roses over and about it by fiddling a mock- 
 merry melody. Yesterday was too fresh in 
 memory for us to accept kindly his squealing 
 tunes; but his irascibility when pennies were 
 thrown before the conclusion of his solo was 
 funny; and we forgave him because he made 
 us laugh. 
 
 Below Yewden we passed an elaborate resi- 
 dence of an Anglicized German, who is said 
 to have been a benefactor to Hamburg. Here 
 we met swans for the first time to-day. Fields 
 in which hay carts were being loaded with 
 fragrant burdens increased the sense of tran- 
 quillity which even on a cloudy morning per- 
 vades the river. Beyond the hay meadows 
 gently undulating pastures, where sleek dun 
 cattle grazed, inspired Diana to say: 
 
 " No wonder cream is good in London ! " 
 Sonia, in more exalted mood, quoted: 
 
 " Like a bird singing in the rain — " 
 
 After yesterday's hurly-burly to glide si- 
 lently down the smooth river listening to bird 
 notes and watching the ineffable grace of the 
 swallows darting up and down, bright flashes 
 
Rafts loaded with jmnts returning from Henley. 
 
The Henley Regatta 197 
 
 of blue and buff now dipping to the water, 
 then circUng swiftly above the meadows — 
 seemed like a day culled from another life. 
 
 We had read " Sir Richard Escombe," and 
 Medmenham Abbey recalled that vivid tale of 
 love and intrigue. The abbey in ruins, how- 
 ever, had been more picturesque than the pres- 
 ent reconstructed residence, although the tower 
 has been left partly in ruins, and its mantle 
 of ivy has been added with the master touch 
 of Nature. Diana made a note of the Abbey 
 Hotel, declaring that she was " going to bring 
 mother here some summer." 
 
 Below the abbey the river becomes more 
 sinuous, its banks as fresh and undisturbed as 
 though 'twere Arcad3^ The sparse late-sum- 
 mer flowers of the iris greeted us like dear 
 friends long unseen. Suddenly a turn in the 
 stream whisked us out of Arcady into Eng- 
 land, whose gentry know so well where and 
 how to build their country homes. High on a 
 densely wooded slope a great white mansion 
 gleamed amid the green. Danesfield, it must 
 be, we thought, near which are the remains of a 
 Danish camp. Or was this New Danesfield? 
 Of its beauty, however, there was no question. 
 
 " ' Chiltern,' " Diana read ; " ' is derived 
 from the Saxon cylt, meaning chalk.' Please 
 notice that all chalk hills are not ' downs.' " 
 
198 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 We had been for some time in sight of the 
 Chiltern Hills, which became gradually higher 
 and more impressively beautiful. Now we 
 passed chalky cliffs topped with emerald. In 
 every cranny grew tall foxglove, planted with 
 Nature's inimitable cunning and making a 
 wholly new color note in the river's gamut. 
 
 There was many a conventual building 
 along the Thames in those " good " old days 
 of the Middle Ages. Choked by rafts loaded 
 with punts returning from Henley was Hur- 
 ley Lock; and a dense mist having shut out 
 the world we read of the priory Geoffrey de 
 Mandeville had founded here, which was " an- 
 nexed " to Westminster Abbey not long after 
 the Norman rule began. There still exists the 
 crypt of the monastery where assembled se- 
 cretly the nobles who were principals in the 
 plot to dethrone James II and import William 
 of Nassau to occupy the throne by right 
 divine. 
 
 Then there was Bisham Abbey — Bisham 
 being a contraction of Bustlesham — built in 
 1338 by William :Montacute, Earl of SaHs- 
 bury. It is not to be wondered that Henry 
 VIII, whose sub-acute appreciation of all 
 beauty but feminine, chose to suppress the 
 Augustinian friars of Bisham and add this 
 fair abbey to his own list of royal residences. 
 
'fe' 
 
The Henley Regatta 199 
 
 especially if its structural beauty, backed by 
 tall trees and half concealed by ivy, were then 
 as now enhanced by superb flower borders. 
 
 " Southern planters say that cotton is the 
 most spiritual of plants, because it can be 
 grown for many successive seasons in the same 
 land without detracting from the richness of 
 the soil. Ivy, I should say, is the most tactful 
 of plants. It always knows how much to con- 
 ceal and how much to reveal." Thus spake 
 Diana. 
 
 Of all the flower-decked locks we had seen 
 along the Thames, Temple Lock took prece- 
 dence. Red-rose arches, tall pink-rose trees in 
 full bloom, masses of Canterbury bells and 
 larkspurs were offset by a background of 
 lindens and elders, also in full flower and fra- 
 grance. Between the old and new Temple 
 Locks is a walled eyot, also gay with gerani- 
 ums and the bright faces of pansies. Temple 
 House, on a quiet backwater, spoke softly to 
 us of England's love of home life. 
 
 "Look!" exclaimed Sonia, indicating a 
 group of three trees on a hillock some distance 
 from the river, which, with the single slanting 
 ray of sunlight breaking through the heavy 
 clouds behind them, might have been Rem- 
 brandt's chosen subject for the most beloved 
 of his etchings. 
 
200 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Henceforward for several miles — all the 
 way to Maidenhead, in fact — the scenery of 
 the Thames assumes a quiet grandeur that is 
 surprising in consideration of the gentle un- 
 dulation or uncompromising flatness of its 
 valley elsewhere. Why is the Rhine so fa- 
 mous? Or, rather, why is the Thames not 
 equally reno^vned for beauty as well as for 
 historic interest? 
 
 Marlow is a large old town. Some of Shel- 
 ley's poems were written here. Marlow's weir 
 is the largest we saw ; and from the force of 
 the ordinary outflow over its curved dam it is 
 easy to conjecture how greatly would spring 
 freshets damage the shores of the Thames but 
 for the locks. " Gentlemanly Marlow! " 
 
 The Thames has a way of confiding its se- 
 crets with an almost feminine assurance that 
 never before have they been revealed. Had 
 our Berkshire Hills a Thames curving in their 
 valleys they would be like unto the Chilterns. 
 In such as the sloping Quarry Wood might 
 the " real " Diana have hurled her lance. In 
 such a wood might Paul and Virginia have 
 dreamed away their sweet romance. Quarry 
 Hall abuts on a sharp bend in the river with 
 so much abruptness that Sonia held her breath 
 lest the steamer's prow collide with the garden 
 wall. 
 
The Henley Regatta 201 
 
 Beyond the little village of Bourne End a 
 long line of poplars on the river bank divides 
 to disclose a low, comfortable house. Farther 
 on, gigantic rustic baskets set on a broad, 
 smooth lawn, filled with scarlet geraniums, 
 their handles twined with graceful vines, were 
 an effective fancy. 
 
 Cookham is old enough to have been men- 
 tioned in " Domesday Survey," and is charm- 
 ing enough to be mentioned in many other 
 books. The river here is divided into several 
 channels. At Cookham Lock we were again 
 delayed an unconscionable time. Inaction is 
 not always restful. We were almost overcome 
 by somnolence. 
 
 " I believe," said Sonia, yawning, " that I 
 prefer doing penance on the rubble quads of 
 Cambridge or galloping 'round the Norman 
 keep at Guildford at full speed to this en- 
 forced idleness when we are so eager to catch 
 a train. We must not miss the reception at 
 Dorchester House! " 
 
 A man who was gallantly pulling a rowing 
 boat up the rollers at the side of the lock for 
 his feminine companion lost his footing and 
 slid backward; and everj^body on the steamer 
 laughed inconsiderately. The lock-keeper's 
 house is ivy covered, and the window sills evi- 
 dently afford insufficient space for decoration. 
 
202 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 wherefore dozens of pots of geranium were 
 cunningly disposed in the strong stems of the 
 vine. 
 
 " My next Dorothy Perkinses will be plant- 
 ed so they can climb among shrubbery," af- 
 firmed Diana. " Do you see how effective 
 these are? " 
 
 Beautiful Formosa Island, whereon nestles 
 a residence in well-kept grounds, is said to be 
 the largest island in the Thames. 
 
 Cliveden was once a duke's residence and 
 once that of a Prince of Wales, but has now 
 fallen (?) into the hands of a much-advertised 
 American millionaire. 
 
 " He could not have shown better taste in 
 selection of a country house location had his 
 money been as old as these everlasting hills," 
 asserted Sonia. " This is superb." 
 
 And here was Boulter's Lock again; but 
 not for us. The steamer was subject to in- 
 definite delay by punts innumerable that had 
 not yet reached their home. We were as- 
 sisted to alight on the wall supporting the 
 riverside driveway. Our bags were handed to 
 us, and a cab that happened to be waiting 
 bore us to the station just in time to catch a 
 London train not so late as to prevent our 
 presence at the embassy. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Epping Forest, Waltham Abbey, Waltliam 
 Cross, and Temple Bar 
 
 SONIA had made a discovery. There is a 
 forest within a very few miles of London. 
 
 Arden and Sherwood had been vaguely for- 
 mulated hopes; but now — Ho! for the Forest 
 of Epping. 
 
 Hitherto had we seen but parks — Bushey 
 or Battersea. The mere word forest, however, 
 thrills with outlawry, romance, fairies, and fire- 
 flies. 
 
 At Chingford station were char-a-bancs 
 whose drivers bawled the intelligence that six- 
 pence secured a " return drive " to High 
 Beach. Diana spoke to a smiling bobby. 
 
 " About ten shillings, I think, miss, to Wal- 
 tham Cross. A shilling a mile is the usual 
 price." The cabman who had offered to take 
 
 203 
 
204 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 us for this sum was hailed. Scarcely had we 
 raised our sunshades ere he halted before a 
 pleasant hotel and, indicating a small cottage 
 adjoining it, informed us that we " wanted " 
 to see it. 
 
 " Queen Ehzabeth's Hunting Lodge," he 
 vouchsafed ; and the magic words dispelled any 
 lingering hesitancy. We saw it to be a tim- 
 bered building with thatched roof, recently re- 
 stored, we learned. 
 
 A toothless woman, middle aged and adi- 
 pose, whom heaven had designed for a taker 
 of toll — they are so singularly alike — received 
 of us each threepence and a signature in her 
 (greasy) visitors' book before permitting us 
 to ascend the spiral stairway solidly built of 
 that strong heart of oak so freely used in 
 Tudor times. Up this very stair did the merry 
 queen ride her favorite hunter all the way 
 to the banqueting liall on the tliird story. The 
 house is now used as a museum for collections 
 of minerals, flora, and so forth of Epping 
 Forest. We but glanced at the cases, so 
 greatly were we interested in the charming old 
 rooms with their great fire-places, their tapes- 
 tries, and the leaded casements from which 
 the queen had often looked out upon her 
 hawkers making ready for the chase three 
 hundred years ago. The banqueting hall has 
 
Epping Forest 205 
 
 a timbered gable roof. In this room con- 
 vened the dread Forest Court that by a cruel 
 travesty of justice determined many a human 
 fate. 
 
 Since bibHcal days, and perhaps earher, 
 royalty has ever usurped unto itself all forest 
 rights — and wrongs. Essex Forest, which 
 once extended beyond Colchester and Cam- 
 bridge on the north and all the way south to 
 the Thames, had its " Code " long before Wil- 
 liam of Normandy came; but what it had lost 
 in rigorous enforcement under the Confessor 
 and Harold was regained under the Conquer- 
 or's iron hand. The original idea of forest 
 law was the protecting of deer that royalty 
 would stalk. The forest was so protected that 
 the people were heavily taxed to supply the 
 royal coffers. The people had certain " privi- 
 leges ": right of way through the forest trails 
 was one. But woe to the vassal who bore a 
 bow! The right of lopping the trees for fire- 
 wood was another ; but if while trudging home- 
 ward with a bundle of fagots a man's heart 
 were pierced by an arrow intended for some 
 fat buck — what mattered the loss of a human 
 life as against the royal chagrin at having 
 missed his quarry? When the churl infringed 
 upon his scanty privileges and snared a rab- 
 bit, the authorities assembled in Queen Eliza- 
 
206 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 beth's Hunting Lodge, or its predecessor or- 
 dained that his hands or ears be " lopped," 
 or his eyes cut out, all in the queen's or 
 king's name. Often the penalty was death. 
 To the poor little dog who had pointed so 
 skillfully for his humble master, " justice " 
 was also administered in the cutting off of 
 his paws. 
 
 Thanks to the lion-hearted Richard, who 
 loved his forests and was not unwilling to be- 
 friend his people when knowledge of their 
 needs was brought to him — what little while 
 he was in England — the cruel code was 
 amended somewhat; but he needed funds for 
 the pleasure trip mistakenly called crusade 
 and sold some of the forest lands to his bar- 
 ons, who inclosed each his o^\ti acres and thus 
 made of them a park. 
 
 The tiny, yet grim toy house of the whim- 
 sical Elizabeth was soon left behind as we 
 rolled along the dusty road toward Connaught 
 Water. 
 
 "Dust? " say you who know more of mud 
 and mackintoshes in England. Aye, dust in- 
 deed — eke drought. Only a brief shower or 
 so had there been in two months. The sky 
 was as boldly blue as that of America, the sun 
 as hot ; and the roadsides were as whitely pow- 
 dered. The superb emerald of many a closely 
 
Epping Forest 207 
 
 cropped lawn was burned to ochre; and our 
 parasols afforded insufficient shelter. 
 
 " How refreshing the cool forest glades 
 will be!" murmured Sonia hopefully. At 
 length we began to wonder where the forest 
 could be; and Diana openly expressed a doubt 
 as to its very existence. 
 
 " Broad fields are very nice, and so are the 
 thin woods beyond these scrub-oaks; but I 
 came to see a forest; I want my forest and I 
 want it now! Driver! How soon shall we 
 be in the forest? " 
 
 He j^ulled the reins far above his shoul- 
 ders and forced his steed out of an incom- 
 prehensibly slow trot into a miraculously slow 
 walk. 
 
 " The — forest? We've been in the forest 
 since that gate at the Hunting Lodge. This 
 is the principal road." He had gathered 
 the reins in one hand and turned around on 
 the box for a scornful look at the young 
 woman who was too stupid to know a forest 
 when she saw one. Querulously he snapped 
 his whip and bade his steed " plep " while we 
 looked at each other in dismay. 
 
 " How could we have expected to find a 
 real forest so near London?" said Diana. 
 " The Tudor builders used all the oaks for 
 beams and stairways. Oh, to have lived a few 
 
208 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 centuries ago — before cathedrals were restored 
 and forests felled ! " 
 
 " There must be more than these sparse 
 woods," insisted Sonia hopefully. We there- 
 upon persuaded our driver to leave the main 
 road for one that led through a pleasanter part 
 of the woods, where tall bracken drooped 
 gracefully under the trees and midsummer 
 wild flowers were less laden with dust. At 
 length we ascended a hill atop of which our 
 semi horse-power vehicle came to a stop while a 
 circling whip emphasized the announcement: 
 
 " This 'ere is 'Igh Beach." 
 
 " There's no beech at all! " exclaimed Diana, 
 misunderstanding. High Beach we discov- 
 ered to be a plateau of considerable extent, 
 whereon are England's inevitable twain, a 
 tavern and a church. Our attention was called 
 to the alleged view of the Lea Valley far 
 below; but the noonday haze left much to 
 be imagined — and desired. There were re- 
 freshment booths and a multitude of London 
 trippers who had come in sixpenny char-a- 
 haiics. The inn is pleasantly shaded by heavy 
 trees. It is here that Tennyson had been in- 
 spired to \vrite the " Talking Oak," and pos- 
 sibly also " Locksley Hall." Before the inn 
 is a semi-invalid oak which Queen Victoria 
 planted on May 6, 1882, by this act " dedicat- 
 
Ol 
 
 S: 
 o 
 
 
Epping Forest 209 
 
 ing the forest to the people, free forevermore." 
 When Essex was an unbroken forest, the bat- 
 tle-axes of conquering hordes — Celt, Roman, 
 Dane, and Saxon — seeking the defenseless ht- 
 tle straw-thatched, huddled towns of native 
 islanders blazed many a trail that eventually 
 became highway. Sovereigns enforced the 
 code and took rich toll of the peasants. The 
 disafforesting, which had its real beginning 
 under John Sans-terre, was continued under 
 subsequent merry monarchs, and by 1640 the 
 Royal Forest of Essex had shrunken many 
 thousands of acres ; while " landed " gentry 
 were becoming ever more numerous. Accord- 
 ing to the " perambulation " of that year its 
 name had been changed; the Royal Forest of 
 Waltham it was because the sixty thousand 
 remaining acres were round about this parish. 
 Fifty years ago the acres had dwindled in 
 number to six thousand, so royal had been the 
 spending of this treasure, and so zealous had 
 Lord Wardens been in exercising their privi- 
 leges of " grant " and — to speak arbor ially — 
 of graft. To every shilling paid to the crown 
 by the purchasers of forest lands the Lord 
 Warden was accustomed to withhold for his 
 own pocket a penny. Again the name was 
 changed, to become Epping Forest in dis- 
 tinction from that portion of Essex Forest 
 
210 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 near London, called Hainaiilt Forest — for 
 the family of Edward Ill's queen — to be- 
 come wholly detached from the remaining 
 upper portion. At length, there being but 
 thirty-four hundred acres uninclosed, the 
 Corporation of London " took action," and 
 after much litigation, together with delay, a 
 quarter of a million sterling was paid and the 
 present forest was formally presented to the 
 people, in token of which Queen Victoria 
 planted this oak tree on High Beach, on the 
 very spot where the famous King's Oak — as- 
 sociated with the Saxon king Harold — had 
 stood, the stump of wliich had been removed 
 for the planting of the Queen's Oak. Harold's 
 lands pro])ably extended as far as this. Per- 
 haps he and his Edith of the Swan Neck 
 held trj^st here beside Hilda's altar, the sacri- 
 ficial fires of which might have been seen far 
 down the valley of the Lea. The name of the 
 inn on High Beach alone perpetuates the 
 memory of the King's Oak. 
 
 "There's a ditch bank!" exclaimed Sonia, 
 when we were faring onward again, " just 
 like the one on my great-grandfather's farm 
 in New England." 
 
 The ditch bank proved to be a part of the 
 earthworks that Boadicea's army had raised 
 as a defense when Suetonius, still smarting 
 
Epping Forest 211 
 
 under his defeat by her at Colchester, where 
 seventy thousand Romans had been slain, at- 
 tacked her untrained Iceni at these Ambres- 
 bury Banks and stilled forever eighty thou- 
 sand hearts of the foe. Sitting on the grassy 
 mound in the shade of thicklj^ clustering trees, 
 we pictured the scene, thinking chiefly of the 
 brave Iceni women, who seemed pluckier than 
 their lords and stationed their chariots about 
 the battle field to watch the fray and urge the 
 fighters to greater endeavor. Alas! that their 
 superbly courageous queen must be overcome 
 and captured by the Romans, whom she so 
 bitterly and righteously hated. Some chron- 
 iclers say she was borne to Rome, where she 
 died in captivity; others that she died in Eng- 
 land of poison self-administered rather than 
 submit to the will of her conquerors. Certain 
 iconoclastic learned folk have " decided " that 
 the Ambresbury Banks were not the scene 
 of this battle; but thev fail to decide in favor 
 of a more likely place. 
 
 Now at last was our longing for a " real " 
 forest gratified. Green rides shaded by 
 mighty trees stretched into the infinite and 
 enticing beyond; under the trees bracken — as 
 tall as a man — ferns and mosses triumphed! 
 In the open spaces wild roses grew so pro- 
 fusely that the wondrous climbers and tree 
 
212 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 roses at Kew seemed crudely artificial. Na- 
 ture's untended garden is best. How the fair- 
 ies must revel here in dewy moonlight! and 
 how sadly must dryads and fauns have passed 
 away when none believed in their presence! 
 
 Sonia became rapturous over the blended 
 perfumes of bracken, rose, and pine in the hot 
 sun, and called it " heavenly." Where shad- 
 ows at noontide spread twilight under the 
 mighty branches we knew John Amend-All 
 must be lurking, ready to speed an arrow into 
 the heart of an enemy. We bade our driver 
 await us a half mile or so down the road toward 
 Epping while Ave loitered in the cool glades 
 of Epping Thicks, compensated a hundred- 
 fold for our previous disappointment. 
 
 " When we were at Windsor," Sonia said, 
 " I tried to recall the story of Henry VIII 
 watching from Caesar's Tower for the signal 
 of Anne Bullen's death. I remember now; 
 it was a disloyal butcher whose death occurred 
 then; and when poor Anne was being exe- 
 cuted the king was in Essex Forest, near 
 Windsor, waiting for the firing of a gun to 
 announce the end. When it was heard he 
 heaved a sigh of relief and exclaimed : ' The 
 business is done. Uncouple the dogs and let 
 us follow the sport.' Bluff King Hal!" 
 
 When Robin of Huntingdon ruled o'er the 
 
Epping Forest 213 
 
 highways in Sherwood Forest and Jerry Aver- 
 shawe brandished holsters on Hounslow 
 Heath, Dick Turpin was the terror of Wal- 
 tham Waste. But for Harrison Ainsworth's 
 sentimentalizing, however, in " Rookwood," 
 Dick Turpin had been as little known to us 
 as his confederates, particularly Tom King, 
 whom Turpin shot by accident. Turpin was 
 a cattle thief and lawless house breaker, espe- 
 cially where women were alone and unpro- 
 tected, quite as truly as he was " gentleman 
 of the road." A band of highwaymen, known 
 as the Waltham Blacks, terrorized the travel- 
 ers on these lonely forest roads ere such splen- 
 did creatures as bobbies existed to hale them 
 to Scotland Yard. 
 
 Before coming to the town of Epping a 
 little inn is called Dick Turpin's Cave. Near 
 by is a small cave where Turpin concealed 
 himself and his plunder. The innkeeper treas- 
 ures a cutlass and pistol together with a pair 
 of spurs alleged to have been Turpin's. 
 
 The little town of Epping was famous as 
 a posting station on the Cambridge Road in 
 ante-railway days; and no less was the fame 
 of Epping butter and Epping pork when the 
 county came to market. Now it is a quiet 
 little town whose ribbon-like High Street is 
 its sole thoroughfare. 
 
214 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 When we mildly reproached our driver for 
 taking us to the Cock's unsatisfactory lunch- 
 eon, for which we had been overcharged, he 
 tactfully accepted our point of view and said 
 he had not been offered his customary pint of 
 ale. Diana ignored his hint and bade him 
 drive on to Waltham. 
 
 The distance, two miles, was protracted by 
 the extraordinary inability of our steed to 
 " drive." He took a great many steps ; but 
 the result seemed to be vertical rather than 
 horizontal, like the violent throbbing of a 
 motor car before the clutch is thrown. 
 
 " It is what my grandfather would have 
 called ' trotting in a peck measure,' " Sonia 
 said. There was no hurry, however, for the 
 scent of newly cut hay and of potato blossoms, 
 the midsummer beauty everywhere, soothed 
 our impatience to arrive. A windmill's idle 
 sails stood against the unclouded blue. 
 
 The Lea is one of those absurdly small riv- 
 ers, omnipresent in England, which wind and 
 curve as winsomely through shady banks as 
 e'er the tresses of a maid about a lover's heart. 
 Old Izaac's favorite stream is still the bourne 
 of anglers. One " compleat " specimen we 
 saw — the inevitable boy with primitive tackle 
 and infinite patience. 
 
 Waltham Abbey is but a fragment of that 
 
Epping Forest 215 
 
 in which Harold prayed on the eve of Hast- 
 ings while Edith watched him from the shadow 
 of one of its mighty piers. Its few remaining 
 Norman bays are noble specimens of the no- 
 blest architectural era England has experi- 
 enced. These stones were tooled in genuine 
 devoutness and love of work for the work's 
 sake; beauty being an exigeant result. When 
 the zigzag ornamentation on the arches and 
 columns was inlaid with brass, no wonder the 
 looters of " reformation " times coveted and 
 carried it away together with the lead roof! 
 
 Waltham spells Harold, stalwart son of 
 Godwine and the last of England's Saxon 
 kings. No chapter in all of England's stir- 
 ring story is at once so thrilling or so fateful 
 as that of Harold's brief career. His brother- 
 in-law, Edward the Confessor, a large land- 
 owner in Essex Forest, gave to Harold, then 
 earl, the Saxon town of Wealdham (woody 
 town) on the River Lea, now the boundary 
 between Hertfordshire and Essex; the river 
 that is " seven times parted from itself." These 
 lands included a vast forest tract. The town 
 had first been settled by Tovy — or Tofig — a 
 standard bearer of Knut, who wanted a home 
 near his shooting. Only threescore and six 
 dwellers, by his wish, constituted the town in 
 his day. Tovy also established here a small 
 
216 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 church, which was rebuilt by Harold when he 
 became its possessor. Perhaps his rich en- 
 dowment thereof consisted chiefly of the loot 
 he had brought from an attack on Wells, 
 whose cathedral he pillaged. He made the 
 foundation educational rather than monastic, 
 its incumbents being chiefly clerks and lay 
 priests, of whom he created a chapter, consist- 
 ing of a dean, twelve canons, and a few minor 
 officers. The church was dedicated by him 
 in 1060, one Adelard having been brought 
 from France to be its first chancellor. Some 
 say Adelard was a physician summoned to 
 cure Harold of paralysis, and that the cure 
 was effected, at Adelard's suggestion, by the 
 miraculous rood which had been brought dur- 
 ing Knut's reign from Montacute in Somer- 
 set by Tofig the Proud. It is difficult to asso- 
 ciate paralysis with the slayer of Hardrada. 
 
 The rood appears again in Harold's story. 
 Before the battle " at the hoar apple tree," 
 a nameless field near Hastings, that the Nor- 
 mans subsequently called Sanguelac — Harold 
 came, as has been said, into his church to watch 
 and pray while his soldiers were carousing 
 near by. As he knelt before the rood the head 
 of the Crucified was seen to bend forward — a 
 token of calamity to the suppliant monarch. 
 When the battle was done and the body of 
 
Epping Forest 217 
 
 England's king had been so hacked that none 
 but his beloved Edith could recognize it, and 
 she only by her name tatooed on his breast, 
 permission was sought for the burying of Har- 
 old in his church. This was granted by the 
 Conqueror; but none knows what became of 
 Harold's body. The great stone sarcophagus 
 that was made for it stood for hundreds of 
 years before the altar, and in the twelfth cen- 
 tury the monks opened it. A few bones they 
 saw, which fell into dust upon contact with 
 the outer air. A legend hath it that the Con- 
 queror caused the body of the defeated king to 
 be buried on the channel coast near Pevensey, 
 where had landed the Normans to conquer the 
 kingdom so bravely defended by the Saxon 
 monarch. Other tales aver that when the 
 arrow which blinded Harold toward the close 
 of that dreadful day also felled him, he lay 
 as though dead until Edith found him, pulled 
 out the arrow, and escaped with him to Ches- 
 ter. 
 
 The fragmentary west end of the abbey 
 church and the Lady Chapel alone remain 
 to hint of the splendor of the whole. 
 
 " Have you seen St. Bartholomew's the 
 Great in London? " asked the young woman 
 in custody. " It is said to be the other half of 
 Waltham Abbey." 
 
218 IJ^aijs and Daijs Out of London 
 
 In fancy we looked beyond the filled in and 
 rose-'v^indowed east end of Waltham Abbey 
 and saw the splendid apsidal curve of St. 
 Bartholomew's complementing these sturdy 
 side waUs. 
 
 Until we ignorantly sought among the 
 churchyard tombs some trace of Harold's 
 (never-located) monument, we had not real- 
 ized the abbey's once vast length. Our grop- 
 ings, however, were indirectly the means of 
 the day's most deliohtful discovery — the old 
 ^lonastery Gateway with its bridge across the 
 Lea. 
 
 As we turned away from the beautiful Elea- 
 nor Cross, about which a village called Wal- 
 tham Cross clusters, we mclined toward tea at 
 the Four Swans whose sign spans the road; 
 but the slovenly appearance of a stupid 
 " boots " and serving maid diminished our 
 appetite for this imi's further acquaintance. 
 A pastry shop beyond the cross, where greasy 
 townsfolk were partaking of the cheerful cup 
 amid flies, dust, and sunbeams, was worse. 
 We tried a third direction, and found what 
 we needed in a clean and fragrant dairy. Re- 
 stored again to ^^igor we inquired of the rosy 
 lass who presided over the great blue-and- 
 white bowl of milk and the butter crock on 
 
Epping Falsest 219 
 
 the marble counter the way to the Temple 
 Bar. Our driver, whose ten shillings had ter- 
 minated at the cross, told us it was but a bit 
 of a walk. Somebody else put the distance 
 at two miles. The dairy maid estimated it 
 at half a mile. 
 
 Having promised to see Coppelia in the 
 evening at the Empire, the five-forty train for 
 London was the latest we could take. Being 
 therefore hurried, we inevitably lost our way, 
 but were rescued by the omnipresent whistling 
 boy, who saw us safely started within the 
 gates of Theobald's Park, which is pronounced 
 " Tibbies." He said the bar was " stright on 
 at the bottom of the road." At any other time 
 we should have loitered along this shady drive- 
 way in a private park that had once belonged 
 to Cardinal Wolsey and later to Richard 
 Cromwell and James I, and is now owned by 
 a titled somebody; but London was tugging 
 at us and we must needs hasten. The road, 
 once a track through Essex Forest, no doubt, 
 seemed to have no " bottom." We became in- 
 credulous, interrogated. At length, only be- 
 cause we refused to be conquered by swift time 
 and sure fatigue, we found the broad stone 
 gate that had spanned the Strand where now 
 the City Griffin stands with Queen Victoria 
 and His Majesty Edward VII, and where the 
 
S80 Wt99 amd IkafS Out of London 
 
 Ijotd ^laYtff is paiamount orer the sovereign 
 CTen unto this day, so much so Aat the king 
 must secure penmssioQ to enter tiie city. Sir 
 Cliiislc^]|ier Wren was ccanmisaooed to erect 
 ibe Tanpfe Bar qq tiie Strand about fifty years 
 befwe the Ma^oacier hore Soma's ancestors 
 to MassaMJmsetts. Statues of royalties adorn 
 it- On the heavy oaken gates that swing opei 
 for her ladyship's carriage w«e iron spikes in 
 tiie good qM days for the display of traitors' 
 heads. Whea the wei^t of the gates ^due to 
 the nurnb^ of traitorsf) had heen found to 
 have ^rcakjoted the arch, and the dtv traffic 
 had aMnmoosly increased, the har was taken 
 do^^. — in IS 78. A year later it was erected in 
 Tr i"> Park, where its dignity is en- 
 
 y the superb trees that remain of this 
 :: : : E>>ex Forest. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Dulwich and Crystal Palace 
 
 AMONG the hordes of Americans who 
 MM. dutifully — and, it is hoped, happily — 
 devote long hours to becoming acquainted 
 with the world-renowned canvases on the walls 
 of the threefold National Gallerv in London, 
 few have ever heard of — much less visited — the 
 quiet little village of Dulwich which reposes 
 but five miles from St. Paul's, and enshrines a 
 picture gallery worthy a longer pilgrimage. 
 
 We vaguely remembered having heard of 
 this gallery, and had determined to seek it on 
 a certain afternoon in early July. The morn- 
 ing had flown in the happy quest of seed 
 pearls and Georgian silver, so we lunched 
 " with " Peter Robinson, as Sonia said of the 
 cozy little restaurant tucked in a corner of one 
 of our favorite shops. Chance directed that 
 INIiranda and her ladyship entered the restau- 
 
 221 
 
222 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 rant as we were leaving it. Upon learning 
 our plan they passed a viva-voce vote that we 
 should meet them at Claude Hebert's home in 
 Norwood for tea; and a " wire " was forth- 
 with dispatched to INIrs. Hebert. Why cer- 
 tainly she would find it convenient. Had she 
 not been urging them for weeks to bring us 
 out? And this would be the j oiliest sort of 
 an opportunity. Wherefore we hastened 
 toward Victoria on a hay-making excursion 
 into the shining hours of early afternoon. 
 
 It was fortunate that when De la AVyk, a 
 landowner in this part of Surrey about the 
 time of the conquest, established a village on 
 his estate, the great highway to London was 
 not its chosen locality — fortunate for those who 
 like to find rustic oases in the aridity of mod- 
 ern townful and city-spread territory that, 
 even in the Old World, is swiftly effacing the 
 last traces of a picturesque past. To the Clu- 
 niac Priory at Bermondsey the manor and 
 lands of De la Wvk were rovallv bestowed bv 
 Henry I, who thus exercised the " divine right 
 of kings " by pilfering from Peter in order to 
 propitiate Paul. Gradually the name of the 
 former owner of the estate — for some things 
 cannot perish — became softened to Dilwj'-sshe, 
 and as Dulwdch still lives. Happy must this 
 priory have been, for almost nothing of its 
 
Dulwich and Crystal Palace 223 
 
 history is known. No Friar Thomas, no 
 Roger of Wendover was here to record the 
 deeds of monks and men. Some Httle talk 
 there was of a convent at Halliwell whose pri- 
 oress in 1245 compelled Bermondsey's prior 
 to an agreement regarding the tithes in *' Est- 
 Dilewich," which had been converted from 
 woodland into " tilth " ; by which agreement 
 the convent won advantage. Bermondsey 
 Priory became an abbey, which in 1539 
 yielded to the protestant axe of Henry VIII; 
 but rather than await the inevitable blow upon 
 the abbey's massy doors the astute abbot vol- 
 untarily surrendered his domains to the crowTi, 
 thereby obtaining for himself a pension of 
 three hundred and thirty-three pounds an- 
 nually. Merry Hal sold the abbey togetlier 
 with Dulwich manor and lands to one Thomas 
 Calton, a goldsmith, whose grandson, Sir 
 Francis Calton — a youth from whom money 
 was soon parted — mortgaged a portion of the 
 Dulwich estate in 1602 to one Sir Robert Lee, 
 who was not a Confederate general, but Lord 
 Mayor of London. 
 
 In the days of Elizabeth and James I, a 
 pleasure that had previously been proscribed 
 in England began to permitted. One Edward 
 Alleyn, an actor, made so bold as to erect on 
 the Bankside — a quiet bit of Thames bank 
 
224 Ways and Dai/s Out of London 
 
 opposite the most populous part of the city — 
 a playhouse, the Rose Theater, wherem he 
 acted Lier, Borneo, the Moore of Vents, Ba- 
 rabhas in the " The Rich Jew of Malta," and 
 in other dramas. The venture succeeded and 
 Alleyn's friend and fellow actor, WilHam 
 Shakspeare, estabhshed nearby the Globe 
 Theater. In a few years the Swan and Hope 
 theaters were added, and all London crossed 
 to the Bankside to be amused and thrilled. 
 According to Taylor, the " Water Poet," the 
 watermen employed in ferr^nng the folk across 
 at fourpence per capita numbered forty thou- 
 sand. 
 
 Diana did some figuring. " Allowing five 
 passengers to each ferr\Tnan," she said, " and 
 considering how many of London's present 
 theaters would be requisite to seat two hun- 
 dred thousand people, it is only fair to sup- 
 pose that Taylor was a strong-water poet 
 whose license, poetic and alcoholic, exceeded 
 even the elastic bounds of his profession." 
 
 Certain it is, however, that the queen had 
 her state barge for crossing from Queenh\i:he 
 to the Bankside, which boasted " two splendid 
 cabins beautifully ornamented with glass win- 
 dows, painting, and gilding." This barge is 
 beheved to have been bought after her death 
 by Alle}*n, who caused a stately mantel to be 
 
Dulvcich and Crystal Palace 225 
 
 made of it ; and this mantel may be seen to-day 
 in the library of Duhvich College. How came 
 this to pass? Listen and learn! 
 
 " Edward Allin," says Fuller, in his 
 " Worthies of England," " was bred a stage 
 player, a calling which many have condemned, 
 more have questioned and some few have ex- 
 cused, and far fewer conscientious people have 
 commended. He was the Roscius of our age, 
 so acting to the Ufe that he made any part, 
 particularly a majestic one, to become him. 
 He got a very great estate, and in his old age, 
 follo^^ing Christ's counsel — he made friends of 
 his ' unrighteous mammon,' building there-^ith 
 a fair college at Dulwich — for the rehef of 
 poor people." 
 
 The sacred counsel to which Fuller refers 
 is probably the reputed appearance on the 
 stage of the devil in person while Alle^Ti was 
 pla}^g Faust us. 
 
 In every great awakening of the world the 
 light of one great personality more or less 
 dims others of exceptional brilliance and force. 
 In his day Edward Alle\Ti was more talked of 
 than was William Shakspeare; but now his 
 fame is faded in the strong ray of Shak- 
 speare's glory. 
 
 Xash, in " Pierce Pennyless, his Supplica- 
 tion to the De%'il," savs of Alle^Ti: " Xot 
 
226 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Roscius, nor ^sope, those tragedians admyred 
 before Christ was borne, could ever perform 
 more in action than famous Ned Alleyn." 
 
 Dekker, too, speaks well of him, especially 
 of his " well-tunde voice." Others of his con- 
 temporaries extol his skill ; most noteworthy of 
 such expressions is Ben Jonson's epigram: 
 
 To 
 
 Edward Allen. 
 
 If Rome so great and in her wisest age 
 
 Fear'd not to boast the glories of her stage, 
 
 As skillful Roscius and grave Aesop, men, 
 
 Yet crown'd with honours, as with riches, then ; 
 
 Who had no lesse a trumpet of their name, 
 
 Than Cicero, whose every breath was fame: 
 
 How can so great example dye in mee, 
 
 That, ALLEN I should pause to publish thee? 
 
 Who both their graces in thyself hast more 
 
 Out-strlpt, than they did all that went before: 
 
 And present worth in all dost so contract, 
 
 As others speake but only thou dost act. 
 
 Weare this renoune. 'TIs just, that who did give 
 
 So many poets life, by one should live. 
 
 In the zenith of his career as an actor, as 
 manager and owner of the Rose Theater, of 
 the Paris Garden — for bull-and-bear baiting 
 — and of the Fortune Theater, Alleyn retired 
 from public life to become a landowner, 
 farmer and philanthropist. About the time 
 
Dulwich and Crystal Palace 227 
 
 Sir Francis Calton's tailor was sewing up the 
 holes that departed pounds had burned in that 
 gentleman's pockets, in preparation for the 
 reception of sums about to be advanced by- 
 Sir Robert Lee on Calton's estate at Dul- 
 wich, Edward Alleyn began to look for land 
 to buy. The Lord Mayor was glad to have 
 the mortgage redeemed, and the great actor 
 made his first purchase of an estate which ulti- 
 mately comprised thirteen hundred acres and 
 extended from the crest of Sydenham Hill to 
 that of Heme Hill, three miles nearer Lon- 
 don. He had long dreamed of establishing 
 a " hospital " for the poor of the four parishes 
 in London, which partly furnished his for- 
 tune, by inheritance and by marriage. His 
 birth had occurred in that of St. Botolph's 
 without Bishopsgate, two years after the Bard 
 of Avon's voice was first " heard to roar " in 
 Stratford. Alleyn's marriage with Joan 
 Woodward being childless after twenty years, 
 he began " playing the last act of his life so 
 well " as to gain honor and further fame. 
 Living at Dulwich Manor, and still making 
 occasional visits to the court at Greenwich, 
 Windsor, or Whitehall in his capacity as 
 " Master of the King's Games of Beares, 
 Bulls, and Dogges," he resigned all his pro- 
 fessional successes and interests. 
 
228 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Because Inigo Jones was present at the 
 dedicatory exercises of the College of God's 
 Gift, as Alleyn's foundation was called, it was 
 thought by many that he was its architect. 
 If so he committed ignoble errors in construc- 
 tion, for Alleyn spent large sums on repairs 
 during his lifetime, and the tower was so in- 
 secure that it fell twenty years after it was 
 built. Probably Benson, the builder employed 
 by Alleyn, drafted the " j^lotte." It seems 
 naive that in order to provide funds for the 
 tower's restoration the fellows were deprived 
 of salary j^^'o tern. The College of God's 
 Gift was begun in 1613, and completed four 
 years later. Still longer, however, was de- 
 layed the charter of incorporation, " for set- 
 ting his lands in mortmain," for Chancellor 
 Bacon endeavored by star chamber finesse to 
 divert Alleyn's gift to the establishing of lec- 
 tureships at Oxford and Cambridge. Alleyn's 
 letters patent were nevertheless issued in June, 
 1619. The purpose of his gift appears to 
 have been double: almshouses for the aged 
 and for youth a college which should gra- 
 tuitously educate a certain number of impe- 
 cunious boys. These beneficiaries were to be 
 chiefly selected from the four parishes in Lon- 
 don previously referred to — St. Giles, Cam- 
 berwell; St. Botolph, without Bishopsgate; 
 
Dulrmch and Crystal Palace 229 
 
 St. Savior's, Southwark, and " that part of 
 St. Giles's without Cripplegate which is in the 
 county of Middlesex." The original letters 
 patent specified " six poor old brethren, six 
 poor sisters, and twelve poor schollers." 
 
 " Nice of hiin," said Sonia, " not to call the 
 sisters old." 
 
 With ceremony and sermon the College of 
 God's Gift was dedicated in September, 1619, 
 Lord Chancellor Bacon, Lord Arundell, Inigo 
 Jones, and certain other celebrities among the 
 invited guests. Later, Alleyn wished to ex- 
 tend the gratuities of his foundation, and 
 shortly before his death, which occurred in 
 1626, drew up statutes ordaining that in addi- 
 tion to the original twelve poor " schollers," 
 who were " to pay such allowance as the mas- 
 ter and wardens shall appoint," there were to 
 be six chanters for singing in chapel and 
 teaching music. This amendment to the origi- 
 nal foundation was proved to be illegal and 
 his wishes were disregarded. For more than 
 two hundred years the beneficiaries of the 
 school were restricted to the original twelve 
 boys. 
 
 The founder tied a string to his gift, which 
 was largely responsible for the slipshod way in 
 which the institution was managed, and which 
 inevitably bred discontent and dissatisfaction; 
 
230 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 lie required that master and warden of the 
 college be always Alleyns. Whereby he over- 
 looked the probability that the name was less 
 essential to the welfare of the college than 
 the capability of master and warden. Until 
 1858 the name of Allen obtained, but bv that 
 time the entire foundation stood in need of 
 reconstitution; so the Court of Chancery took 
 the matter in hand. Edward Alleyn had left 
 regulations for salaries and maintenance of 
 the master, warden, and four fellows (preach- 
 er, master of the school, usher, and organist ) , 
 also for the diet and clothing of the pension- 
 ers. He ^\Tote out rules for management of 
 the estate, servants, subjects of instruction in 
 the school and hours for service in the chapel. 
 The master was to be chief ruler in Dulwich 
 village, the warden collector of rents. 
 
 A certain James Allevn, who was chosen 
 warden in 1712, and became master nine years 
 later, was a benefactor to the village. He es- 
 tablished a charity school to teach " poor boys 
 to read, and poor girls to read and sew." In 
 1877 this was restricted by Act of Parliament 
 or Chancery to girls, and is now kno^Mi as 
 " James Allen's Girls' School." 
 
 Edward AllejTi refrained from active mem- 
 bership in his college, although a fat memo- 
 randum-diary is still preserved there in which 
 
to 
 to 
 O 
 
 
 S5 
 
 to 
 
Dulwich and Crystal Palace 231 
 
 he recorded his intimate interest in its daily 
 Hfe. He engaged the boys in theatrical per- 
 formances, and in January, 1622, he says: 
 
 " The boyes play'd a playe." 
 
 The present buildings of the college are ex- 
 ceedingly modern and not conspicuously peri- 
 odic, although the style is declared to be Ital- 
 ian Renaissance. They might indeed be any 
 one of the numerous red-brick state normals 
 in the transatlantic child of JNIother England. 
 A host of white-flanneled students was play- 
 ing tennis on the broad lawns in front of the 
 coUege as we approached. These buildings 
 are nearly half a mile distant from the old 
 college. They were erected in 1870, and for- 
 mally opened by the Prince of Wales. The 
 great hall is cleverly patterned after the lofty 
 old style of the Tudors, and is a close second 
 to the finest in Oxford or Cambridge. 
 
 JNIany portraits of Alleyns and others hang 
 in the college. Under one of James Allen, 
 he of the Girls' School, is an inscription to the 
 effect that he was " six feet High, Skilful as 
 a Skaiter, a Jumper, athletic, and humane." 
 Romney was the portrayer of his successor, 
 Joseph Allen, ]M.D. 
 
 Some anecdotes of the Rev. Ozias Thurston 
 Linley, whose portrait also hangs in the col- 
 lege, caught our fancy. He was chosen organ- 
 
232 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 ist in 1816. While giving instruction in music 
 — which had been well taught him by his gifted 
 father at Bath — he displayed what some would 
 call the " temperament artistic." When he 
 was not twisting his snuffbox rapidly between 
 his fingers he was pulling his wig awiy, and as 
 often as not it was hindside foremost, and his 
 bald pate gleaming in the gap. In the dining 
 hall, too, seeking in his own chaotic way to 
 restore order among the boys, he would pound 
 upon the table till he " put the glasses and 
 decanters in serious jeopardy." Like many 
 musicians and college professors, he was af- 
 flicted with absent-mindedness. Upon one 
 occasion, going to play somewhere beyond 
 Norwood, he set off on horseback, as was his 
 custom. " ' What have I to pay? ' said he, com- 
 ing to a turnpike, whip in hand, with a bridle 
 trailing on the ground. ' You have naught to 
 pay, sir,' replied the keeper ; ' you have left 
 your horse behind you, sir.' " The horse had 
 stumbled and thrown him; but Ozias, like the 
 soul of John Brown, went " marching on." 
 
 The college has many precious mementoes 
 of Edward Alleyn and of his friends and fel- 
 low players, Shakspeare, Marlowe, Burbage, 
 Jonson, Greene, Peele, Bond, Field, Sly, and 
 others of the long list of famous men of Eliza- 
 bethan times. The authorities of Dulwich Col- 
 
Dulwich and Crystal Palace 233 
 
 lege, albeit Alleyns, have been monumentally 
 reckless of many precious opportunities. The 
 Alleyniana that exist happen not to have been 
 destroyed. Chance alone has preserved them 
 for the delight of those who in our time appreci- 
 ate such things so fully. The lost and destroyed 
 papers and books far outbalance the few that 
 escaped oblivion. David Garrick once ob- 
 tained from the master of the college a num- 
 ber of Elizabethan manuscripts and early edi- 
 tions in exchange for a parcel of new books! 
 Garrick's bargain is happily preserved in the 
 British Museum; but how much of equal or 
 greater value went into the dustbin? 
 
 In the college library are now treasured 
 many of Alleyn's papers. Letters to Joan, his 
 wife, who stayed behind v/hile the plague raged 
 in London and all the players went " on tour," 
 begin: "My good sweete harte and loving 
 mouse." Here is a bit of the long inventory 
 of his theatrical apparel: 
 
 CLOKES 
 
 A Scarlett cloke with ij brode gould laces with gould 
 buttons of the same down the sids, for Leir, 
 
 A purpell sattin welted with velvett and silver twist 
 Romeos. 
 
 A long blak tafata cloke. 
 
 A colored bugett for a boye. 
 
234 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 GOWNES 
 
 Hary the VIII gowne. 
 
 A crimosin bestrypt with gould fact with ermin. 
 
 A cloth of gould Candish his stuf. 
 
 ANTIK SUTES 
 Blew damask cote for the Moore in Venis. 
 Among the doublets &c., were 
 ** Pryams hoes in Dido." 
 
 Somewhere (in the diary, I think) he noted 
 under " howshowld stuff " the purchase of a 
 copy of Shakspeare's " Sonnets " for five- 
 pence. In the college library may also be 
 seen one of Alleyn's own posters: 
 
 To-morrow, being Thursdae, shal be seen at the 
 Bear Garden on the Bank Side, a great match played 
 by the gamesters of Essex, who hath challenged all 
 comers whatsoever, to plaie five Dogges to the single 
 Beare for five pounds, and also to wearie a Bull dead 
 at the stake, and for their better content shall have 
 pleasant sport with the Horse and Ape, and whipping 
 of the Blinded Beare. Vivat Rex. 
 
 " Shame on the English that they ever could 
 tolerate such horrors! " Thus Sonia, her face 
 twisted with the shuddering thought. 
 
 " To their credit rather, let us say, since they 
 quickly wearied of so grewsome a pastime," 
 Diana pleaded. 
 
Dulwich and Crystal Palace 235 
 
 Even when this sort of " sport " was in its 
 heyday of popularity there were voices lifted 
 in protest. Of Skelton's verses here is an ex- 
 cerpt : 
 
 What folly is this to keep with danger 
 A great mastive dog and fowle ouglie bear, 
 And to this end to see them two fight 
 With terrible tearings a ful ouglie sight. 
 
 A detachment of parliamentary troops un- 
 der Colonel Atkinson was quartered on the 
 college in 1647; and the merry soldiers, when 
 fighting was not the order of the day, amused 
 themselves in the chapel — without remon- 
 strance from their commander — by pulling out 
 organ pipes and keys, tearing open coffins for 
 lead to mold into bullets, and doubtless play- 
 ing many a prank with the coffins' contents. 
 The vestry became a stable during their stay. 
 
 The chapel is one of the few remaining por- 
 tions of the old college of Alleyn's foundation, 
 and but little of this has been spared. The 
 inscription was erased from Alleyn's tomb by 
 the troopers; but it has been replaced: 
 
 Here Lyeth the Bodie of Edward Alleyn 
 
 Esq. the Founder of this Church and 
 
 College who died the 21st day of November 
 
 1626 aetat 61. 
 
236 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 It was at one time averred that he was not 
 interred here. Some said his tombstone stood 
 in a field in Half Moon Lane. Perhaps the 
 Cromwellian practical jokers put it there. 
 Alleyn's body is known not to be underneath 
 the present stone in the chapel; but it is be- 
 lieved to lie near by. 
 
 The Rev. James Hume, a fellow of the col- 
 lege early in the eighteenth century, gave to 
 the chapel a font, and he it was who wrote the 
 inscription to Alleyn on the outside of the 
 porch, which finally exhorts him who reads: 
 
 Beatus ille qui miseritus est paupurem 
 Abi tu et fac similiter. 
 
 The fellows, however, being human, preferred 
 to contemplate the welfare of ego and gave as 
 little heed to this exhortation as to Alleyn's 
 statutes, which should have been morally if 
 not legally binding to those intrusted with the 
 administration of his gift. There was formerly 
 on the south wall of the chapel a painted in- 
 scription to Joan, stating that she was interred 
 in the " Quire of this Chappell." A stone in 
 her memory on the chancel has also vanished. 
 The warm color of Giulio Romano's copy 
 of Raphael's " Transfiguration," which now 
 glows on the north wall, originally stood over 
 
Dulwich and Crystal Palace 237 
 
 the communion table, but was removed in order 
 to permit more light to enter from the window 
 there. In 1712 the church register records 
 the marriage of John Lucas and Mary Pepys. 
 
 " I wonder if she could have been Samuel's 
 sister? " 
 
 " I wonder if he was related to Sir George 
 Lucas, of Colchester? " we queried simulta- 
 neously. During the eighteenth century two 
 actors were buried in the churchyard ; and here 
 was buried, also, Bridget, queen of the famous 
 Norwood gypsies, from whom are descended 
 several of Heme Hill's " first " families. 
 Speaking of families, Sonia said: 
 
 " I have been wondering whether Edward 
 Alleyn was related to the Vicar of Bray? Was 
 not his name Simon Alleyn? " 
 
 The estate of God's Gift College is not now 
 as large as Alleyn's, but still comprises many 
 acres. The playground alone occupies twenty- 
 five, and Dulwich Park — now public — nearly 
 eighty. The new college buildings were 
 erected on the old common. The chapel, be- 
 ing a part of the original structure, is there- 
 fore some distance from the new buildings. 
 Adjoining it are the almshouses which con- 
 tinue Alleyn's eleemosynary purpose. And 
 here, too, as modestly as any wood violet, hides 
 'neath wide-branching trees and thickly clus- 
 
238 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 tering rose vines that which we had come forth 
 to see — but had well-nigh forgotten in the in- 
 tense interest bestirred in us by Edward Al- 
 leyn and his Golden Age — the Dulwich Art 
 Gallery. 
 
 This one-story red-brick building occupies 
 part of the site of the old college, although it 
 is of recent construction. About the begin- 
 ning of the nineteenth century King Stanis- 
 laus, of Poland, commissioned Monsieur De- 
 senfans, a famous London art dealer, to collect 
 paintings suitable to adorn a national gallery 
 at Warsaw; but Poland's " Dammerung " had 
 already begun to darken and Warsaw was 
 destined to lose not only her king — whose 
 *' paper tabard " was plucked off — but the pic- 
 ture gallery he had planned. Desenfans found 
 his title of Polish consul-general to be about 
 as empty as the purse that had paid for a val- 
 uable collection of pictures; so he published a 
 catalogue of the aggregation and advertised 
 the " goods " for sale. At the time of his death 
 he still had thirty-nine of the one hundred and 
 eighty-eight he had bought for Stanislaus. 
 These Desenfans bequeathed to Sir Peter 
 Francis Bourgeois, a member of the Royal 
 Academy, together with many other notable 
 canvases acquired in the meantime. Bour- 
 geois was the son of a Swiss watchmaker who 
 
Dulwich and Crystal Palace 239 
 
 wished the lad to enter the English army, 
 which was all but accomplished when he became 
 acquainted with Desenfans and determined to 
 be a painter. He was sufficiently successful 
 to receive from King Stanislaus the Order of 
 Merit and to be elected to membership into the 
 English Royal Academy. In the Dulwich 
 Gallery are about twenty of his canvases which 
 might, alas! have been stacked in somebody's 
 hayloft but for his bequest of them to the 
 College of God's Gift, together with the su- 
 perb collection which had come to him from 
 Desenfans. 
 
 In 1814 the gallery was opened; but at 
 first visitors were admitted only on certain 
 days, and the tickets must be procured from 
 specified London art dealers. Now, every 
 day, save Sunday — O Sabbath-sealed Britain! 
 — the gallery is free to all. 
 
 Of these wondrous pictures which shall first 
 be named? Mrs. Siddons as the " Tragic 
 Muse " comes uppermost in memory, one of 
 Sir Joshua's masterly works. Oddly enough, 
 next floats to the surface of the pool of mem- 
 ory the tiny water-color portrait of " Queen 
 Victoria in Childhood," by S. P. Denning. 
 The list of painters includes such names as 
 Rembrandt, Van Dyck, Cuijp, Teniers, Ve- 
 lasquez, Murillo, Claude, Raphael, Dolci, 
 
240 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Gainsborough, Hobbema, and so forth. Some 
 bumpy Rubens nudes and goddess-Hke ones 
 of Van der Werff ; some children of Murillo's 
 brush and a St. John by Guido; an exquisite 
 httle panel by Annibale Caracci and a large, 
 glowing Ruijsdael; the lovely Van Dyck 
 " JNladonna," whom he must have loved — for 
 he painted her many times ; this gallery is rare 
 in that it contains very little that is bad amid 
 very much that is good. It was comforting 
 to be spared the weariness of traversing long 
 corridors on whose walls hang but a few fine 
 pictures among hundreds of mediocre ones. 
 Diana gave utterance to this sentiment. 
 
 " Draw a veil over that sad, yet funny Cart- 
 wright collection," said Sonia, referring to 
 the group of pictures bequeathed to the col- 
 lege in 1686 by William Cartwright, a Lon- 
 don bookseller. They were chiefly portraits 
 of Elizabethan actors, Burbage, Bond, Field, 
 and others ; but the keeper of the gallery wisely 
 gives them a room to themselves, so a glance 
 is sufficient to show the visitor that they are — 
 what tliey are. 
 
 " Here's a LawTence portrait — Linley." So- 
 nia was stooping to see the name. 
 
 " Not Ozias? " Diana exclaimed. " Yes, 
 when he was a boy. What a dear! " 
 
 " And here," said Sonia from beyond; " are 
 
Dulwich and Crystal Palace 241 
 
 his two sisters, Mrs. Sheridan and Mrs. Tick- 
 ell. Why she is Sir Joshua's ' St. Cecilia ' ! " 
 
 " And also the Maid of Bath, famous not 
 alone for her beauty, but for her singing and 
 as the heroine of Foote's ' Comedietta.' What 
 an interesting life she had! And Mrs. Tick- 
 ell's career was almost as picturesque. I am 
 so glad we liked dear, absent-minded Ozias, 
 who, it seems, gave all these Linley portraits 
 to the college. Our interest in him makes all 
 these painted people so much more human. 
 
 We found a portrait of Lord Bacon, whose 
 tomb we had seen in old Verulam. What is 
 there more mysterious, more baffling, and at 
 the same time more alluring than the human 
 face, especially when one seeks in it traces of 
 character known to dwell behind its seldom 
 transparent mask? There were Beechey's and 
 Northcote's portraits of Sir Peter Francis 
 Bourgeois; another of Northcote's showed us 
 M. Desenfans; and of Stanislaus of Poland 
 there is one by an unknown — unsigned — 
 artist. 
 
 There was no time left us for visiting the 
 little mausoleum containing the tombs of M. 
 Desenfans, his wife, and Sir Peter, whose 
 names are so generously and permanently as- 
 sociated with this gallery. 
 
 Croxted Lane we came upon; but alas! 
 
242 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 there stands no longer at its " top " the manor 
 house that was ancient when Edward Alleyn 
 and his Joan came to live in it. A few years 
 ago the land on which it stood was let for 
 building purposes, but the lessee was per- 
 mitted to destroy the manor — and he built 
 nothing I Walker Weldons are omnipresent. 
 
 Of the College of God's Gift we read occa- 
 sionally in the writings of English men of let- 
 ters. 
 
 Evelyn says : " I went to see Dulwich Col- 
 lege, being the pious foundation of one Allen, 
 a famous comedian in King James's time. 
 The Chapell is pretty, the rest of the Hospital 
 very ill contrived, yet it maintains divers poor 
 of both sexes. ... I came back by a certain 
 medicinal Spa at a place called Sydnam Wells, 
 in Lewisham Parish, much frequented in sum- 
 mer." 
 
 In Horace Walpole's loquacious letters to 
 the Misses Berry, he says: " This morning I 
 went with Lysons the Reverend to see Dul- 
 wich College, founded in 1619 by Alleyn, a 
 player, which I had never seen in my many 
 days. We were received by a smart divine 
 with black satin breeches, but they were giving 
 new wings and new satin breeches to the good 
 old hostel, too, and destroying a gallery with 
 a very rich ceiling, and nothing will remain of 
 
s 
 
 en 
 
 
 
 CO 
 
 (to 
 
 
Dulwich and Crystal Palace 243 
 
 ancient but the front and a hundred mouldy 
 portraits among apostles, sibyls and kings of 
 England." 
 
 " I wonder," said Sonia ; " if he refers to 
 the immortal Cart'vmght collection? We were 
 hastening back to the railway lest we miss the 
 train on which we had promised to proceed to 
 Xorwood, when a big motor car came purring 
 toward us down the shady road which we were 
 about to cross. We stood aside for it to pass, 
 at which instant several arms began to -wildly 
 wave at us while female voices shrieked: 
 "So!" "Di!" These were the nicknames 
 Lady Maude and Miranda had given us; and 
 as the motor backed, belching smoke and dust, 
 veils were lifted and our friends' faces became 
 recognizable. They had come to drive us over 
 to Norwood. We went through a toll gate — a 
 pleasant reminder of past annoyance — and by 
 way of College Road sped past the college and 
 Duh^dch Park, past the great Crystal Palace 
 at Sydenham, which we might not stop now 
 to see, for the muezzin had called the hour of 
 tea. A cozy tea in a pretty English home, 
 whose doors led out into a fair English garden, 
 is as pleasant an experience as is afforded in a 
 long English summer day. Large, luscious 
 strawberries from Kent's sunnv fields were 
 brought in on heaped-up platters. The while 
 
244 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 we did full justice to them and to several cups 
 of tea and slices of plum cake, we heartily ex- 
 tolled England and everything English, to the 
 kindly strangers who gave us so cordial a wel- 
 come. 
 
 There is nothing now in Norwood to sug- 
 gest the simple life of the Romany tribes who 
 made it headquarters during many years; but 
 it is a quiet, shady suburb, whose pretty 
 houses are homes, each of which has ample 
 ground for dooryard and garden. 
 
 Our plan had been to dine a quatre at the 
 Crystal Palace and stay for the fireworks ; but 
 we found the giant glass-house so anticlimactic 
 after the peculiarly rare delight of the after- 
 noon at Dulwich that we all voted " yea " 
 when Miranda proffered an invitation to din- 
 ner in Finboro Road and a long twilight 
 on their flower-decked balcony overlooking 
 Brompton Cemetery, whence we could see 
 sufficient feu d'artifice at the Earl's Court 
 Exhibition beyond the graves and the trees 
 a-twitter. 
 
 " But you must see the palace, now you are 
 here!" they said. So Mr. Hebert's car 
 brought us to the High Level entrance. The 
 Crystal Palace is as useless as it is im- 
 mense and imposing. It affords lodgment for 
 cat shows and for cycle exhibitions. The Bar- 
 
Dulwich and Crystal Palace 245 
 
 num and Bailey Circus oft has saved its life. 
 Here Londoners do congregate for many pur- 
 poses of entertainment, varying in character 
 from cricket matches to oratorio. Baedeker 
 is inclined to be somewhat expansive in praise 
 of the palace's attractions. Sonia said he must 
 have received his information from a coster, 
 for that was the only sort of person we saw 
 there who appeared to enjoy it. Some British 
 tourists from far counties closed their mouths 
 long enough to read their guide-books' eulogy 
 of the palace's cost, its extent, and its " art." 
 The palace is a left-over from the first world's 
 fair ever held, and was for many years a 
 world's wonder. Some of the inhabitants of 
 the earth have not yet discovered that it is 
 now a monument to sentiment. 
 
 " Every year at Christmas," said Miranda, 
 " they have an immense tree in the center 
 there. Last Christmas the tree was given by 
 Sir Jeremiah Colman. It was about ninety 
 feet high, and from it a hundred and twenty 
 thousand toys were distributed among the 
 poor. They have given up the old custom of 
 having Father Christmas give them out — such 
 a pity, I think; but they still have him here, 
 although the clowns hand the toys to the chil- 
 dren in the ' circus.' " 
 
 Some sort of an exhibition there was, strung 
 
246 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 tawdrily along through endless aisles and cor- 
 ridors. We dragged wearily past embroidered 
 cheap-expensive shawls, beaded moccasins, 
 burnt leather souvenirs, and post cards. We 
 tried not to be too peremptory in our persistent 
 refusal to become interested in the wares that 
 bedizened girls or tinsel-and-velvet-coated men 
 raucously advertized and held toward us in 
 greasy hands. Had the place been less vast 
 we could have better appreciated its few beau- 
 ties, such as fountains, palms, and plaster casts 
 of classic statues. The aquarium, with its 
 prisoned fishes ever silently saying, " bop, bop, 
 bop," held no charm for us, and when our 
 friends suggested seeing the monkeys, we 
 made haste into the gardens. The superb view 
 from the terrace restored for the moment our 
 peace of mind. We did not try to see all of 
 the gardens M^hen we learned that they com- 
 prise about two hundred acres, but strolled 
 among flower borders and sought a place to 
 rest. There were benches in plenty, but all 
 were preempted by costermongeresses and 
 Tommy Atkinses making love with so ruthless 
 an ardor that we were too horrified to laugh. 
 " I know now," said Diana, " why Tommy 
 wears his pillbox on the side of his head. I 
 have often wondered." Other sportive young 
 creatures in Arcadian simplicity of manner 
 
Dulwich and Crystal Palace 247 
 
 played leapfrog or kiss-in-the-ring, noise be- 
 ing the chief element in their enjoyment. 
 When the frogs — female — were bowled over 
 in the exuberance of the game and rolled down 
 hill, screaming, we turned away summarily. 
 But on the broad walk we came face to face 
 with a half dozen girls and men bearing empty 
 beer mugs and displaying the effect of their 
 imbibing. Bacchanalia in Arcadia may have 
 been picturesque, which is not true of Crystal 
 Palace Gardens. As we stood aside to allow 
 them ample space for passing us, one of the 
 men winked solemnly at Sonia and bawled: 
 
 " Thire awl lidies, real lidies ; eyen't ye 'Ar- 
 riet?" 
 
 " I'm glad," Diana said, " that we decided 
 not to stay for the fireworks. Let us go down 
 to the Low Level station and wait there for 
 our train." 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Colchester 
 
 GOING out from London whether by 
 railway, road, or river its immensity 
 was borne in upon us more fully than was 
 possible in traversing the city even from Clap- 
 ham to Islington or from Stepney to Ham- 
 mersmith. The throbbing heart of the me- 
 tropolis, where great human tides surge and 
 swell, stimulates by its very intensity. As we 
 pass through the outlying districts the pulse 
 beats more slowly, life becomes level; the very 
 types of buildings express a passivity, a luke- 
 warmness not like the peace of rurality, but 
 merely a surcease from the city's strife. 
 
 As there must be some unsightly corners in 
 the most sumptuous palace, so in order that 
 ]\Iayf air may glitter at night and its daily linen 
 be cleansed, gasometers, laundries, and so forth 
 must exist, however unsightly they may look 
 
 248 
 
Colchester 249 
 
 from the windows of a railway carriage. Once 
 past these districts, however, the dividing hne is 
 definite, and there is no straggHng aftermath 
 of oil tanks, cemeteries, and dump heaps, such 
 as surround New York in all directions. You 
 are either in London or out of it. Once out 
 of it the train is magically gliding past hedge- 
 rows, undulous farms, and the graceful elms 
 more common in England now than her fa- 
 mous oaks. 
 
 We had been whirled through Kent's rich 
 dales, through the lush fens of Cambridge- 
 shire, and Surrey's heath-topped downs. In 
 Essex, upland pastures rotated around us, 
 scarlet bean-blossoms vied with the poppies' 
 flaunting flame ; little curling roads led to dis- 
 tant toy villages among clustering trees, where 
 square church towers rose above red-roofed 
 farms and thatched cottages. An occasional 
 windmill's slow red sails revolved against the 
 sky. The great hay ricks were diminishing 
 like mammoth loaves of bread from which thick 
 slices had been cut. We were never so fortu- 
 nate as to see the giant bread knife that would 
 seem to be necessary. Along the railway 
 banks were narrow strips of garden, between 
 hedge and track. Often they seemed miles 
 away from a village ; but they were well tended 
 and promised beans or potatoes in plenty. 
 
250 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Have you ever seen cloud shadows romp- 
 ing over a field of grain while the wind rip- 
 ples and waves its surface? Have you watched 
 a black squall blow across East Anglia from 
 the sea, beating the trees into a fury of re- 
 sistance, laying its heavy hand upon the sun- 
 shine and flinging in a brief moment of frenzy 
 its great pearls broadcast o'er copse and pas- 
 ture, only to laugh again and chase your fly- 
 ing train with a rainbow whose two pale ends 
 splash color through pasture and pool in its 
 headlong race? If so, you know something 
 of the beauty of Off'a's domain, of the gentle 
 Eadmund's kingdom — aye, and of Old King 
 Cole's as well! 
 
 You thought King Cole, like King Arthur, 
 was a myth ! You will believe in King Arthur 
 when you have seen Tintagel on the wild 
 Cornish coast. Perhaps you will believe in 
 Old King Cole when you have seen his " Cas- 
 tle " and " Kitchen " in Colchester. 
 
 In the earliest of Anglo-Saxon manuscripts 
 and in the triads of the Welsh troubadours 
 mention is made of King Coel. Coel Gode- 
 bog — the good fellow — probably a Norseman, 
 conquered and killed Asclepiodotus, a king of 
 the Britons. Constantius, one of Caesar's gen- 
 erals, who afterwards became Emperor Con- 
 stantius I, accepted the apology which Coel 
 
I 
 
 i^. 
 
 One remains, the Ballon Gate. 
 
Colchester 251 
 
 thought incumbent to make, on condition that 
 Helena, Coel's beautiful daughter, be given 
 him to wife. This same Helena became the 
 mother of Constantine the Great. Helena 
 was born at Colchester — or Camulodunum — 
 as it was then. She was long worshiped as 
 the town's patron saint, and is represented in 
 the earliest Seal of the Bailiffs, while in some 
 early charters of the borough she and Con- 
 stantine are pictured in the initial letters. 
 Evelyn's diary records " a statue of Coilus, 
 in wood," then existing, and Colchester Castle 
 was from ancient times known as Colking's 
 Palace. If you still doubt, go to the Herald's 
 College and ask to see the arms of Coel Gode- 
 bog; but you have them in a modified form in 
 the present arms of Colchester — Coel's Camp. 
 Tradition assumes that he was buried at Not- 
 tingham, which town was founded by another 
 son of Helena. The arms of Nottingham are 
 almost identical with those of Colchester. The 
 three crowns are said to represent the three 
 Wise Men whose heads were found by Helena 
 and taken to Cologne. They are still there; 
 so we were requested to believe on the occasion 
 when we viewed the bones of St. Ursula and 
 her eleven thousand virgins. Manifestly 
 Coel's arms were not devised until after He- 
 lena disinterred the Wise Men. 
 
252 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Colchester was called by the Romans Ca- 
 mulodunum, but its existence had begun long 
 before Csesar helped himself to this morsel of 
 the map of Europe, although Csesar declares 
 that what the Britons called a town was merely 
 a clearing in the forest defended by earthworks 
 or a river. 
 
 British princes, like many others, did not 
 always dwell together in love. One Caswallon 
 had killed his royal brother so as to obtain for 
 himself a throne. The brother's son, Man- 
 dubratius, displayed some natural resentment 
 thereat, and having heard that the Great Ro- 
 man was coming over from France, he sent 
 messages to Csesar imploring him to pitch into 
 — or words to that effect — Caswallon. Csesar, 
 being an assiduous seeker after trouble, found 
 here what he most desired. Caswallon's army 
 of untrained Britons was mowed down with 
 ease, whereby any further resistance from the 
 regicide was quashed. His life had been 
 spared; and taking an I. O. U., payable an- 
 nually in gold from the citizens of Camulo- 
 dunum, for value received, Csesar returned to 
 Rome, and JNIandubratius was permitted to 
 govern his father's subjects. A nephew of his 
 became famous when Shakspeare called him 
 Cymbeline. 
 
 When Claudius ruled over Rome's domains 
 
Colchester 253 
 
 and traveled to Albion, a temple was built 
 where the castle now stands and a statue was 
 erected to Victory. Camulodunum became a 
 Roman city with Senate House and a theater. 
 What little of it the Danes and Saxons may 
 have left standing was demolished by the Nor- 
 mans, and all we have of Roman Camulodu- 
 num are some articles in a museum, a wall, 
 and some splendid specimens of Norman her- 
 ringbone masonry, for which Roman bricks 
 from the Temple of Claudius were used. 
 
 An earlier demolition occurred, however, 
 when Boadicea came with her vengeance-im- 
 pelled army and devastated the city in the 
 year 61 a.d. The present Roman wall was 
 not built until after this. The Romans, for 
 once, had been caught napping. After the 
 majority of the townspeople had been slaugh- 
 tered and their houses burned, the few who re- 
 mained erected this fortification of flint and 
 brick cemented with that wonderful pink mor- 
 tar they knew so well how to make, and rebuilt 
 their town. 
 
 We reached Colchester about noon. There 
 was but one cab at the station. We requested 
 the driver to show us the castle, St. Botolph's 
 Priory, King Cole's Kitchen, and Scheregate 
 Steps. Save for the castle, his expression was 
 as blank as though we had commanded him to 
 
254 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 drive us to the Eiffel Tower or the Pyramids 
 of Ghizeh. 
 
 " Take us to a shop where we can buy a 
 map," said Diana the determined. 
 
 "It is Early Closing Day," he demurred; 
 " the shops is all closed." 
 
 " That means no arms china — no photo- 
 graphs," lamented Sonia. 
 
 "Hurry, please!" Diana commanded; 
 " there may be something open." They 
 were all closed, however, and the town had 
 a Sabbath-day appearance. An ignorant 
 driver and a town deserted! This was dis- 
 heartening. 
 
 " Stop here ! " shouted Diana, who was on 
 the pavement before the wheels were still. 
 Shutters were about to be put up on the win- 
 dows of the Essex County Standard. She 
 had spied the open door. Happily the pro- 
 prietor was present. He was most sympa- 
 thetic, furnished us with guide books in plenty 
 — of his own compilation — and instructed the 
 driver where to take us. 
 
 "That was lucky!" gasped Sonia, wide- 
 eyed. 
 
 The wall was our first quest. A portion of 
 it we had seen while driving up from the sta- 
 tion, its crude massiveness richly mantled with 
 trailing vines and overhanging branches. 
 
tn. 
 
 Delightfully incongruous teas a motor wagon at tJie base 
 of "King Cole's Castle r 
 
Colchester 255 
 
 Originally there were four gates in the wall. 
 One remains — the Balkon Gate. 
 
 Among St. Helena's achievements was be- 
 lieved to be the finding in the Holy Land of 
 the Cross on which the Saviour died. For 
 this reason the town consisted of two principal 
 streets crossing at the center, typical of the 
 Cross, which also shows on the borough's coat 
 of arms. 
 
 Sonia is logical. " How do they reconcile 
 that story with the fact that Constantius, He- 
 lena's son, was not born until nearly 300 a.d. 
 and the streets of Camulodunum were laid 
 out during the reign of Claudius, more than a 
 hundred years earlier? " 
 
 "But me no huts," Diana responded; "let 
 us beheve all the pretty stories, however thin 
 they may be." 
 
 In another part of the wall is a bastion that 
 has become known as King Cole's Castle. 
 Delightfully incongruous was a motor w^agon 
 at its base. 
 
 We paused to look at the old tower of St. 
 Mary's-at- the- Walls. The foundations of the 
 church are a part of the wall; and the tower 
 is chiefly constructed of Roman materials. Its 
 top still shows where Thompson — the one-eyed 
 gunner who was so loyal to the crown during 
 that bitter seventy-six days' siege of Colches- 
 
256 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 ter by the " Protector," — placed a saker, and 
 therewith killed many of the besiegers. Fair- 
 fax, however, who led the attack — and won at 
 last — succeeded in demolishing the belfry and 
 down came crashing poor, brave Thompson 
 and his gun, together with the mad clangor 
 of the falling bells. 
 
 The castle is declared to be the largest Nor- 
 man keep in England. 
 
 " I observe," said Diana, " that everything 
 we have seen is superlatively — something. 
 This, though, is tremendous ! " as we came sud- 
 denly upon the castle from Balkerne Lane 
 and through a part of the Castle Park. 
 
 The castle's custodian was a man of intelli- 
 gence far above that of the usual taker of toll. 
 He showed us holes where the fastenings of the 
 portcullis had been, the great chimney vents 
 in the thick walls, and ever so many other in- 
 teresting details. The dungeons were superla- 
 tive enough. We descended, each bearing tal- 
 low dips — as in the Catacombs — into the cold 
 subterranean chasms which seemed to have no 
 end. Sonia, whose imagination is so vivid at 
 times as to intimidate, clung to Diana's arm, 
 and would have been content to forbear ex- 
 ploring these grewsome chambers which reeked 
 of death and horror. Some torture devices still 
 remained to show that such things were no 
 
Colchester 257 
 
 fiction. She almost shrieked when she stum- 
 bled against a clanking chain that threw her 
 against a moldy wall, where hung rings which 
 had held the fetters of many a prisoner. Here 
 Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle, those 
 loyal royalists, were confined before their exe- 
 cution. Here also dozens of Protestants were 
 thrown by Queen Mary's command ere she 
 caused them to be put to death in the Castle 
 Bailey, forgetful of the loyalty of Colchester 
 to her cause in opposition to that of Lady Jane 
 Grey. How heavenly sweet to regain the sun- 
 shine ! 
 
 " The staircase is superlative, too," whis- 
 pered Sonia, when the custodian had told us 
 this was " the widest newel staircase in Eng- 
 land." 
 
 From the ramparts of the castle we looked 
 far away in all directions after we had rhapso- 
 dized upon the myriads of harebells abloom in 
 the chinks of the stonework and ivy outlining 
 the arches of the inner walls. In the square 
 turret at the corner which we were approach- 
 ing, James Parnell, a Quaker lad of eighteen, 
 who had preached his gospel of peace, was 
 imprisoned by the Protector and hurried to 
 death by the cruelty of his jailers. In order 
 to obtain food he must slide down a rope and 
 then climb down a too-short ladder into the 
 
258 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Quadrangle. Once he fell, struck his head, 
 and was nearly killed. Then he was thrown 
 into the dungeon, and again, when almost sti- 
 fled by its foul air, he was shut out in the cold 
 of a winter night. After eleven months he 
 was folded in the long sleep he so desired. 
 
 On the ramparts, near the round turret, 
 which is rather modern, a well-rooted tree is 
 called the Waterloo Tree because it was plant- 
 ed in the deeply accumulated moss there in 
 the year 1815. 
 
 Colchester Castle also had its Walker Wel- 
 don, under the name of John Wheely; and 
 in 1683 he bought the castle, intending to 
 dilapidate it and profit by its sale to " local 
 paviors " and such. Gunpowder and crowbar 
 did more to deface it than time or siege; but 
 he grew weary of the task, contemplatively 
 scratched his furry pate, and — decided to 
 sell the material in its present unremunera- 
 tive bulk. Fortunately its present owners 
 have some respect for the past glory of 
 England. 
 
 A part of the castle, once the chapel, is now 
 used as a museum for the rich collection of 
 Roman and other relics that have been ex- 
 humed in and near Colchester. 
 
 " How does it happen," pondered Sonia, 
 ^' that so many Roman coins have been found? 
 
Colchester 259 
 
 Of course, the Romans intended to return; 
 but why did they leave so much money? " 
 
 " I have it! " exclaimed Diana. " The coins 
 were legal tender only in Britain; what more 
 simple, therefore, than to bury chests full in 
 safety and readiness for their return. They 
 were experienced in burying things. All these 
 vases, jewelry, lamps, and beautiful crema- 
 tory glass vials were exhumed from tombs. 
 And here is proof of what I inferred. ' Part 
 of a hoard of 16,000 early English coins found 
 in 1902.' " 
 
 Some terra-cotta figurines bore strong re- 
 semblance to those graceful ones of Tanagra. 
 We were interested in a specimen of the 
 " bays," for which Colchester was once fa- 
 mous. When religious persecution was ram- 
 pant even in Holland, and Diana's ancestors 
 were preparing to sail for New Amsterdam, 
 many Dutch Protestants crossed the North 
 Sea and settled in seaside counties. To Col- 
 chester they were welcomed; and a company 
 was formed for the establishing of commerce 
 and manufacture. A certain woolen stuff 
 called " bays " and a coarser grade — " says " 
 — were manufactured extensively. It is esti- 
 mated that at one time a weekly income of 
 thirty thousand pounds resulted therefrom. 
 The bays and says merchants, as well as the 
 
260 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 native townsmen, bore the stress of the Crom- 
 welhan siege; but the famous company was 
 not disrupted until 1728. 
 
 From the museum windows we caught the 
 best view we had of the herringbone masonry. 
 
 King John is said to have frequently visited 
 Colchester Castle. 
 
 " I wonder," mused Sonia; " if old Lackland 
 paid as bountifully for his entertainment here 
 as at St. Edmundsbury, where, after remain- 
 ing with his retinue for a fortnight, he pre- 
 sented the abbot with thirteen pence." 
 
 There are not many old houses of interest 
 in the town; but our driver indicated a " black- 
 and-white " one that had been standing since 
 before the siege of Colchester. Some others 
 lean o'er the footworn Scheregate Steps 
 which lead from the end of Abbeygate Street 
 to Trinity Street. Trinity Church has an in- 
 teresting Saxon doorway. 
 
 While Savonarola was leavening the lump 
 that Italy had become, and Columbus was 
 seeking the Indies by a western route, the 
 same psychic stimulus was astir in this north- 
 ern isle. After the triumphant return from 
 San Salvador, when people were credulous 
 and none doubted Christopher's discovery, his 
 brother came with the news to Henry VII, 
 who lost no time in putting his finger into so 
 
Colchester 261 
 
 savory a pie. So, too, came the tidings of 
 brave men who were striving to amend the 
 evils that a thousand idle years had wrought 
 in the church; and seeds were sown of that 
 Reformation which swept England of the 
 plague which infested her too-long neglected 
 monastic bja-es. Not all the monasteries were 
 corrupt; and even in the worst of them were 
 many good and pious monks. Wolsey's suc- 
 cessor in King Hal's confidence — Thomas 
 Cromwell — influenced, no doubt, by his prede- 
 cessor's impression upon the wax of history, 
 determined to cut still deeper. He was astute 
 enough to recognize Opportunity's knock. 
 Knowing that corruption smirched some of 
 the religious houses, his inflexible will became 
 concentrated upon a single purpose — the de- 
 struction of all monastic institutions. He em- 
 ployed his favorite method that permitted no 
 defense to the accused, and proceeded to wipe 
 the slate. 
 
 Two institutions at Colchester were thus 
 effaced. The Priory of St. Botolph is so pic- 
 turesque a ruin that we could not greatly 
 deplore its demolition. All that now stands 
 is a part of the priory church. The institution 
 is said to have been the first in England of 
 the Augustinian friars. It was founded in the 
 twelfth century by Ernulph, himself a monk 
 
2()2 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 and its first prior. This ruin we had not seen 
 but for the courtesy of a gardener who un- 
 locked the gate and afforded us the freedom 
 of the pretty garden about the ruins. The 
 Norman fa9ade we admired to our hearts' 
 content. 
 
 When England's throne was occupied by 
 William the Red, true son of his incendiary 
 father, the people of Colchester " made up to " 
 his steward Eudo, hoping for royal favor to 
 their town. The king appointed Eudo to the 
 management of Colchester; and, strangely 
 enough, the steward more than justified his 
 reputation for justice and generosity. He re- 
 paired the castle, and, being religiously bent, 
 determined to found an abbey. On St. John's 
 Green was a little wooden church of Saxon 
 origin, where miracles were said to have fre- 
 quently occurred. One, especially, on a St. 
 John's Day was conferred upon a poor man 
 whose hands had ])een chained together for 
 some misdemeanor, and was praying in the 
 church when the chain broke and the man was 
 freed. Wherefore Eudo decided to build his 
 abbey on the site of the little church and call 
 it after St. John, on whose day the miracle 
 had occurred. This was in 1096. At Eudo's 
 request the Bishop of Rochester sent two 
 monks to establish the abbey; but they did 
 
Colchester 5J63 
 
 not care for the plain living supplied by Eudo 
 and ran away home, like truant schoolboys. 
 Others came, but finding no luxuries, left. 
 Eudo had spent a great deal of money on his 
 beautiful abbey, and innocently supposed that 
 monks were devotees of the simple life. Final- 
 ly, Abbot Stephen, of York, sent him a baker's 
 dozen who stayed. Eudo also built a hospital 
 for lepers who had returned from the crusades 
 covered with doubtful glory and certain dis- 
 ease. He died at his castle in Normandy; but 
 to the Abbey of St. John he left money and 
 land, also his topaz ring and a gold cup — aye, 
 and his horse and mule. 
 
 Cromwell permitted the beautiful gate of 
 St. John's Abbey to stand. Perhaps it is 
 enough. Other of the buildings might retain 
 unsavory associations like the hideous Abbey 
 Church of St. Albans, whose stain time can- 
 not erase while its walls stand. 
 
 Those gentle ladies, Jane and Ann Taylor, 
 who wrote " My Mother " and " Twinkle, 
 Twinkle, Little Star," were residents of Col- 
 chester. 
 
 In St. Giles's Church is a black marble slab 
 covering the vault that contains the bodies of 
 Sir George Lisle and Sir Charles Lucas. 
 
 Under this marble ly the Bodies of the two most 
 valiant Captains, Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George 
 
264 Ways and Days Out of JLondon 
 
 Lisle, Knights, who for their eminent Loyalty to 
 their Soverain were on the 18th of August, 164f8, by 
 command of Sir Thomas Fairfax, the General of the 
 Parliamentary Army in cold bloud barbarously mur- 
 dered. 
 
 It is said that the Duke of Buckingham, 
 smarting at this reflection on his father-in- 
 law's character, asked the restored king to 
 have it erased. Lord Lucas, to whom the 
 king spoke, gave his consent on condition that 
 substituted therefor be the statement that: 
 
 Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle were bar- 
 barously murdered for their loyalty to King Charles 
 I. and his son, King Charles II. has ordered this 
 memorial for their loyalty to be erased. 
 
 The depth of the present inscription is due 
 to the king's subsequent command that it be 
 cut deeper into the marble. 
 
 We drove out to Lexden to see King Cole's 
 Kitchen, which is merely a hole in the ground, 
 but may have been an amphitheatre or possibly 
 a British dugout of some sort. It is wholly 
 unprepossessing at present. 
 
 Our stupid driver did not chance to take us 
 to Bourne Ponds, of which we had no previous 
 information; so we did not see the "pictur- 
 esque mill, built up with stonework from the 
 Abbey of St. John." The brothers fished here 
 
Colchester 265 
 
 before the Colchester oysters became known; 
 and still osiers grow thickly at the ponds' 
 edges. 
 
 The Hythe — in Saxon, harbor — really a 
 sort of firth, is the port of Colchester, which is 
 distant about eight miles from the sea. One 
 of the Cinque Ports bears the same name ; but 
 this is not unusual in England. There is a 
 river Colne that flows into the Thames; and 
 here is another Colne that is " no relation." 
 
 "How delightfully Dutch!" exclaimed 
 Diana at the line of gayly painted fishing 
 boats in the hythe. " No wonder the bays and 
 says merchants felt at home here." 
 
 For the past two hundred years Colchester 
 has had no history. Happy town! We left 
 it regretfully despite its inhospitable reception 
 to us ; for it had given us one of our summer's 
 happiest days. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 By River to Hampton Court 
 
 WHETHER the ancient wooden Lon- 
 don Bridge was as long in " falling 
 down " as the fame thereof we do not know ; 
 but the present solid structure, traversed daily 
 by thousands of vehicles and pedestrians in 
 greater number, seems in no danger of imme- 
 diate collapse. The first London Bridge of 
 stone was thirty-three years in course of con- 
 struction, and doubtless a marvel of engineer- 
 ing in those days as the present bridge is in 
 these. Its completion was celebrated six years 
 before Magna Charta. The last remains of 
 the splendid structure that Chaplain Peter of 
 St. Mary Cole's had constructed at the com- 
 mand of Henry II were removed about sev- 
 enty-five years ago. As we stood on the float 
 at the foot of the great highway, whose dull 
 roar mingled with the lapping of water against 
 
 266 
 
By River to Hampton Court 267 
 
 the landing stage, we tried to recall that bridge 
 of Chaplain Peter. This was not difficult; for 
 some old prints in a bookseller's window had 
 shown us the two rows of houses bordering the 
 thoroughfare, their ragged roof lines and solid 
 bases — beneath which flowed England's aorta 
 — sharply contrasting. We had seen thus the 
 traitors' gates guarded by bastions, at each end 
 of the bridge; and of course we had also seen 
 the chapel to St. Thomas of Canterbury, who 
 was quite the rage when Henry commissioned 
 Peter to build the bridge. 
 
 The sensible way to have " taken " a steamer 
 for Hampton Court had been to go down to 
 the Chelsea landing, near our lodgings; but 
 when we learned that London Bridge was the 
 little steamer's starting place, we prodigally 
 spent an hour and fourpence on a bus through 
 Piccadilly and the " city " because of this op- 
 portunity to see both the bridge and London 
 from a new point of view. 
 
 A few fishing boats still lingered about Bill- 
 ingsgate as we looked for the steamer's ap- 
 proach and beheld it gently gliding toward 
 us. 
 
 Who has not seen London from the Thames 
 knows not the half of London's charm. It is 
 like discovering new and unsuspected beauties 
 in the character of a beloved friend. To him 
 
268 IV ays and Days Out of London 
 
 who is blind to the magic effects made by fac- 
 tory walls, lumber piles, or dirty brown schoon- 
 ers under whose torn sails bricks are piled, by 
 the reflection of such lines and color in the 
 turgid water — this river glimpse of London 
 gives no pleasure. Memories of Turner and 
 Whistler obsessed us, who were happily able to 
 idealize the commonplace. 
 
 The crescent that curves from Blackfriars 
 to Westminster seemed familiar yet strange. 
 Cabs tinkling or tootling along the Embank- 
 ment, the Temple buildings amid their gar- 
 dens, the great hotels, Somerset House; all 
 were known to us from other points of view. 
 Big Ben chiming the quarter hour, the lace- 
 like loveliness of Westminster Palace, intensi- 
 fied the feeling as did the Tate Gallery, where 
 we had recently looked out from the balcony 
 above its entrance, on the river. 
 
 " The marvel of marvels in London," said 
 Diana; " is the multitude and magnitude of its 
 parks. Perhaps a trace of the old Norman love 
 of forests still exists in that ponderous body — 
 the Corporation." 
 
 The Albert Embankment, on the Surrey side 
 of the river, begins at Westminster Bridge and 
 with slight interruption there is a tree-bordered 
 path or driveway for several miles. On the city 
 side the Grosvenor Road and Chelsea Em- 
 

 
By River to Hampton Court 269 
 
 bankment extend even farther, a selvedge of 
 green along the shores. 
 
 Back of the trees lining and interlining 
 Cheyne Walk we descried Whistler's house; 
 and while waiting for the few Chelsea passen- 
 gers to come aboard had opportunity to note 
 the extent of Battersea Park on the Surrey 
 shore and to register a vow of exploration 
 therein. 
 
 Another crescent merges Chelsea into Ful- 
 ham and Battersea into Wandsworth. Magic 
 names all; and we are still in London. Yet 
 the palace of the bishops of London, with its 
 battlemented roof and corner turrets, secure 
 yet unclerically formidable within its moat and 
 amidst its splendid trees, might be many miles 
 from the roar of Bays water Road. At the 
 upper end of Fulham giant plane trees on the 
 Hurlingham Club grounds follow the curving 
 river bank. 
 
 Wandsworth's present fame is derived from 
 a large prison; but in its Huguenot cemetery 
 sleep some of Diana's forbears — so she averred. 
 
 " That great stone bridge must be Putney 
 Bridge," said Sonia before we were near 
 enough to descry the letter P doubly carved — 
 dos-d-dos — on the escutcheons which decorated 
 the huge piers that might defy the swift Rhone 
 as effectually as the tranquil-flowing Thames. 
 
270 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 " Surely those boats over there do not im- 
 agine they can get their tall masts under such 
 low arches! " 
 
 "Not until the tide comes in are they likely 
 to attempt such a seeming impossibility," said 
 Diana, referring to their present high-and-dry- 
 ness. " Perhaps they have a way of lowering 
 their masts like some of the steamers their 
 smoke-stacks ; but methinks we must to our his- 
 tory lesson. 
 
 " For what two reasons is Putney especially 
 famed? You do not know, I see. I do, for I 
 crammed it last night when you were writing 
 to Billy. First of all is Putney famous to re- 
 gattors — I wonder why they did not name it 
 Puntey? — because an annual championship 
 boat race between Cambridge and Oxford be- 
 gins here and ends at Mortlake. You recall 
 our dear Charley Ravenshoe rowing on such 
 an occasion? Secondly, history lovers like you 
 should know that Putney's fame is linked with 
 a blacksmith's son, one Thomas Cromwell, 
 traces of whose ministerial zeal we have oft 
 encountered." 
 
 Between Putney and Barnes lie the beauti- 
 ful grounds of another of London's country 
 clubs, Ranelagh, for which " vouchers " had 
 been promised us. At Hammersmith a glance 
 at the map betrays the startUng nearness of 
 
By River to Hampton Court 271 
 
 Kensington. Here, however, are rows and 
 rows of new brick houses and young trees so 
 typical of suburban London, whose attempt at 
 dooryard gardens and shaded pavements is an 
 almost ^^athetic protest of the Briton's eter- 
 nal love of home and outdoors. 
 
 Chiswick House, built by the Earl of Burl- 
 ington, is as pretentious as these others are un- 
 obtrusive. It is a transplanted Italian villa 
 and looks ill at ease on the banks of the 
 Thames. 
 
 At last the town was being outstripped. 
 Pleasure-boat houses, swans paddling beyond 
 the current, bridges terminating in green rus- 
 ticity proclaimed that we we were emerging 
 into the peace of England from the unrest of 
 the metropolis of the world. A group of pop- 
 lars dominating a foreland seemed to have come 
 suddenly forward to welcome us in the name 
 of England and the Stream of Pleasure. 
 
 " Surely," said Diana, " if I were a suburb- 
 anite, I should live at Strand-on-the-Green. 
 What could be more delightful than one of 
 these comfortable homes from whose windows 
 I could gaze upon this adorable river? More- 
 over, Strand-on-the-Green would look so much 
 nicer on my note paper than Upper Tooting 
 or Ha7n Common." 
 
 " I believe," mused Sonia, " that Ham Com- 
 
272 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 mon appeals to me from another standpoint; 
 perhaps it pays dividends." 
 
 " And may not this be also true of Strand- 
 on- the-Green preferred? " 
 
 Kew's riverside garden loses none of its 
 charm as seen from the river. The curving 
 short at Brentford is also outlined by a road- 
 way; and cattle browsing under tall elms be- 
 stir the low tone of restfulness that is the leit- 
 motiv of the Thames. Between Brentford and 
 Isleworth still stands Sion House, for which 
 Kew's Syon Vista is named. Katherine How- 
 ard, one of the royal sextette, was imprisoned 
 here after the religious foundation had been 
 disrupted and the property seized by the 
 crown. When King Hal's great corpse was 
 borne to Windsor seven years later, it lay here 
 for a night and a horrible tale was told of its 
 bursting and of dogs drinking the blood that 
 flowed from it. Edward VI granted Sion 
 House to the Duke of Somerset, who erected 
 the present dwelling on the monastery's site. 
 On his disgraceful attainder it was acquired by 
 the Duke of Northumberland, who was des- 
 tined to lose it because of loyalty to his daugh- 
 ter-in-law. Lady Jane Grey. A later duke of 
 ^ this house regained the property, and Sion 
 House remains in the Northumberland posses- 
 sion. 
 
 A 
 
o 
 
 5~ 
 
 o 
 
 
 o 
 
 55. 
 
 o 
 
By River to Hampton Court 273 
 
 " And to this day," mused Diana, " in that 
 far away Sion Abbey at Lisbon its recluses — 
 Enghsh women — still dream of returning to 
 their former lands at Isle worth and recon- 
 structing the abbey, whose original keys they 
 carefully treasure." 
 
 At Isleworth is the first of the locks that 
 control this gentle stream. 
 
 " Are we turning the pages of an illustrated 
 story book, or is this a Parsifal-like scene un- 
 rolling before us? Will you please pinch me, 
 to see if I am awake? " said Sonia, " these dear 
 little homes seem unreal. They are too tidy, 
 too precise for humdrum human habitations. 
 A heavy rain might wash the color out of the 
 painted gardens, which are too bright to be 
 real, and unglue the paper roofs. They ought 
 to be in a toyshop." 
 
 We passed a group of red-sailed boats in 
 tow. 
 
 " Evidently," said Sonia, " they can pass 
 under the bridges." 
 
 The wound of our Henley experience was 
 tender, and when a woman began to strum on 
 a diminutive piano on the deck near us we fled 
 as far as we could. The thin wail of a " fiddle " 
 and the plaintive quavering of a flute increased 
 our apprehension. 
 
 " Let's go down and have luncheon ! " we 
 
274 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 said, fearfully listening for the coming of 
 " Poppies " or " Violets." 
 
 How few traces one encounters along the 
 Thames of the bitter battles, the carnage, and 
 the incendiarism that have scarred the fair face 
 of England in a thousand places and stained 
 her sod for thousands of years. 
 
 " Perhaps," murmured Sonia, over the in- 
 evitable chicken and ham, " perhaps even the 
 savage hearts of Danes and Romans were 
 softened by the river's reposeful spirit. Per- 
 haps they paused amid the iris on her shores 
 to send up prayers to their gods and to cool 
 their hot blood in the tranquil stream. Until 
 the abbeys' destruction I can recall no violent 
 deeds beside the Thames." 
 
 " Save Magna Charta," said Diana, serving 
 the salad; " and it is pleasanter to know that 
 such chapters as Ferdinand and Miranda, such 
 books as ' Ravenshoe ' and ' The Wind in the 
 Willows ' made the Thames known to us be- 
 fore we saw it." She unfolded a map. " It 
 is two o'clock, and we are about six miles from 
 Hyde Park Corner, as the bee measures dis~ 
 tance. I think I remember that when we went 
 to Hampton Court before, I heard a declara- 
 tion in strong language that we should go more 
 rapidly on another occasion." 
 
 " True, but to-day we shall be there earlier 
 
By River to Hampton Court 275 
 
 than the time of starting from Earls' Court 
 Road on the former occasion; whereby you 
 perceive that we are actually all these hours to 
 the good, despite the desultory pace of up- 
 stream steamers. Hurry with that cheese! 
 We are coming to Richmond, I think." 
 
 High above the river, like some dominating 
 Schloss, the Star and Garter towers beyond 
 Petersham Meadows. Below it, also overlook- 
 ing the meadows and river is a vine-wrapped 
 house, where lived the beautiful Georgiana, 
 Duchess of Devonshire. 
 
 " Is not she the one whom your Bartolozzi 
 portrays in the act of chastising her baby?" 
 Diana asked. 
 
 If saints were easily made in the days of 
 William of Perth and the Marathonic Am- 
 phibalus, when the calendar contained as many 
 empty spaces as the dance card of a wall flower, 
 certainly earls and dukes were easily " cre- 
 ated " at all times — even to our own day — when 
 tea merchants and actors are knighted. Diana 
 read: 
 
 " ' The whipping boy to Charles I was made 
 Earl of Dysart and given the Manor of Ham ' ; 
 likewise a prayer book. Behold Ham House 
 on your left " 
 
 " He whipped the folk so carefully. 
 That now he is a member of nobility;''* 
 
276 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 hummed Sonia to Sullivan's air. " Was not 
 Ham House the meeting place of the famous 
 Cabal? Oh, yes! and her Grace of Lauder- 
 dale, who was William Murray's — the whip- 
 ping-boy earl's — only daughter and heir, per- 
 mitted the eventful assembly." 
 
 Here, too, James II, on his way to a cooler 
 climate, was invited to stop. So great was his 
 haste, however, to escape in possession of his 
 head that he declined, and posted on to Roch- 
 ester, where a few loyal fellows packed him 
 off on a packet for France. 
 
 Twickenham's oft-sung ferry is not doing 
 a phenomenal or even romantic business in 
 these days, if we may correctly conclude from 
 appearances. 
 
 " There's the wherry," said Sonia, " but I 
 misdoubt the oarsman is indulging in a pint 
 stoup at the Clarence." 
 
 " How fortunate that nobody has made a 
 ballad about Eel Pie Island! " exclaimed Di- 
 ana. " Thompson was capable of it, if we may 
 judge from his extremely blank verse anent 
 the ' classic groves of Hammersmith.' Orleans 
 House — that must be it — seems to be going to 
 the dogs, or the auctioneer. So this was where 
 fat Philippe came with the posting boy, whose 
 boots are at Esher ! It looks like the harbor of 
 a forlorn hope." 
 
«0 
 
 00 
 
 r-O 
 ' — .1 
 
 s 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 O 
 
 S 
 
 554 
 
 
 
By River to Hampton Court 277 
 
 We passed the home of Horace Walpole 
 and of his splendid art collection — Strawberry 
 Hill — wishing we might have seen its treas- 
 ures. Kingston's river front is not specially 
 prepossessing; but its bridge is. And so also 
 is Hampton Wick, opposite Kingston, with 
 shaded footpath, flowers, and pretty homes. 
 
 " I like the cobbler of Hampton Wick," said 
 Diana, " who had spirit enough to exhaust his 
 slender fortune by fighting for and winning 
 in the courts a right of way for the people 
 through Bushey Park when stingy royalty 
 withheld it by inclosing the park with fence." 
 
 The Fox-and-Hounds at Surbiton, where the 
 Reliance had changed horses on its way to 
 Guildford, we recognized as a pleasant ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 Of another inn, the Swan, at Thames Ditton, 
 Theodore Hook wrote in 1834: 
 
 "The Swan, snug Inn, good fare affords 
 As table e'er was put on." 
 
 There was no landing stage at Hampton 
 Court ; when the steamer stopped, a longshore- 
 man placed a plank for us to alight and saw 
 to it that compensation was not neglected. 
 
 "It seems years since we were here I" 
 sighed Sonia. 
 
278 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 The gate at the "bottom" of the Broad 
 Walk being closed we went through the town 
 as far as the Trophy Gate. Parts of the palace 
 are now bestowed as residence upon various 
 governmental pensioners and hangers on. We 
 entered the public galleries by way of the 
 Queen's Great Staircase, from the Fountain 
 Court. So little remains of Wolsey's Palace 
 that we resigned ourselves to Hanoverian ob- 
 session, and — palace interiors are very much 
 alike. 
 
 Among the myriad uninteresting pictures 
 and the semi-interesting ones of doubtful au- 
 thenticity are a few real treasures. Like rare 
 shells on a beach strewn with cohogues, we wel- 
 comed them. The Lely portraits to be appre- 
 ciated should be seen before the Van Dycks, 
 the Gainsboroughs, the Reynoldses, and the 
 Lav/rences at Windsor. Afterwards they seem 
 mawkish. 
 
 " If George Villiers looked like this Janssen 
 portrait," said Diana, " I do not wonder that 
 women found him irresistible." 
 
 " A disgusting face," Sonia contradicted, 
 unable to admire what she cannot respect. 
 Poor, pitiable James I and Elizabeth, gro- 
 tesque in their superb royal robes ! We sighed 
 because of all they never had. Little " Sir 
 Jeffrey Hudson," by Mytens, is also pitiable; 
 
By River to Hampton Court 279 
 
 but this pity is akin to love. Sonia was rap- 
 turous before Correggio's lovely " St. Cath- 
 erine Reading " and " Holy Family." An- 
 other " Holy Family " of the elder Palma, its 
 rich color dim with age, held us, especially be- 
 cause of the beautiful face of the stooping 
 woman beside St. John. 
 
 Wolsey's " Closet " is one of the few links 
 connecting Hampton Court Palace with its 
 originator. We stood looking about its painted 
 walls and out of its casement trying to think 
 some of his thoughts. We spoke of his fatal 
 mistake in out-glorying royalty. His retinue 
 numbered eight hundred persons. His master 
 cook wore velvet and a gold chain. Wolsey 
 supposed the dignity of service lay in being 
 served. 
 
 To Wolsey's Palace was the court always in- 
 vited for Christmas, and many called it the 
 Christmas Palace. To picture Yuletide was- 
 sail was easy in the sumptuous Great Hall, al- 
 though this hall was not built until after Wol- 
 sey's downfall. Hal at length became jealous 
 of his prelate's power and stripped him of it; 
 but the process of royal awakening was slow 
 and Wolsey's glory was a world's wonder — 
 even as Becket's had been. When the court 
 was at Greenwich Wolsey's state barge came 
 down in arrogant splendor, with " yeomen 
 
280 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 standing upon the sails " ; and the great king's 
 beady eyes were dazzled thereby. Kings do not 
 like to be dazzled ; they prefer to monopolize all 
 the glory. So Henry's cold purpose began to 
 be. The poets' skits, too, may like gadflies 
 have stung him to revenge. Sang Skelton : 
 
 " The kynges court 
 
 Should have the excellence; 
 But Hampton Court 
 
 Hath the pre-eminence." 
 
 Queen Mary, determined to marry Philip of 
 Spain, succeeded ; and here passed their honey- 
 moon. 
 
 In Elizabeth's time came Shakspeare's play- 
 ers and Burbage with masques and interludes 
 at Yuletide. The honeymoon of Charles I 
 and Henrietta Maria in London was inter- 
 rupted by the plague ; and in Hampton Court 
 they found refuge. Well for their brief hap- 
 piness that they could not foresee the day six- 
 teen years later when a more formidable foe 
 drove him here again from Whitehall — also the 
 day when he escaped his pursuers and fled from 
 Hampton Court to the Isle of Wight — and 
 again the day when he was borne hence to the 
 block. 
 
 Gentle Anne of Denmark, wife of James I, 
 
By River to Hampton Court 281 
 
 died here. Perhaps her starved soul it is that 
 haunts the Queen's Gallery. Or is it that of 
 Jane Seymour, who died at Hampton Court 
 soon after the birth of her son, Edward VI ? 
 
 Thomas Cromwell, once Wolsey's secretary 
 and afterwards his supplanter, dwelt here with 
 Henry while the deposed prelate sorrowed, and, 
 perhaps hoped, in exile. The other Cromwell, 
 who liked his title of " Protector," but who 
 protected neither wisely nor well, arrogantly 
 assumed a sort of royal residence at Hampton 
 Court, ever glancing over his shoulder for an 
 expected assassin. Conquered by ignoble fear, 
 the Protector had no joy of the pomp to which 
 he was not born. His daughter Elizabeth's 
 wedding to Lord Falconer occurred here ; and 
 a year later Mrs. Claypole, his " favorite " 
 daughter, died at Hampton Court, daring on 
 her death bed to denounce her father and tell 
 him some trenchant truths about himself. 
 
 The Restoration saw a king here again and 
 resumption of ceremonial. The splendid gar- 
 dens we owe to William III. He it was also 
 who commissioned Sir Christopher Wren to 
 erect the south and east portions of the vast 
 palace. 
 
 The fine old clock court and the indoor ten- 
 nis court — the oldest tennis court in England 
 — are of Wolsey's day. So are some of the 
 
282 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 tapestries that line the great hall, though many 
 of these are of Henry the Usurper's choosing. 
 
 The grapevine, carefully guarded in its glass 
 house, we were permitted to see. We had been 
 more impressed with the story of its fecundity 
 had this been the bearing season. 
 
 The sunken pond garden we found by 
 chance, having followed the south side of the 
 palace for a better view of the round, lozenged 
 chimneys of Italian design, which we had per- 
 ceived from the privy garden. The pond gar- 
 den's gate was closed; but we peeped happily 
 through the shrubbery within its wall, which on 
 this side is low, and enjoyed the formal box- 
 bound beds and the white Medici Venus at its 
 far end. 
 
 Stately are the long avenues in the Home 
 Park and the broad ones in Bushey Park. The 
 fame of Horse-chestnut Sunday is merited, for 
 the trees are superb. We passed again through 
 the Trophy Gate, crossed the Thames, and had 
 a much-needed tea on a hotel balcony that over- 
 looked the river. 
 
 Reinvigorated, we indulged in the customary 
 search for usable pieces of arms china, ere our 
 return to the palace, where a pleasant bobby 
 showed some quiet old courts, the Fish Court 
 and Carpenter's Court, rarely seen, he astutely 
 informed us, by visitors. 
 
Stately are the avenues. 
 
By River to Hampton Court 283 
 
 An attempt was made to see more of the 
 Home Park, but was forborne, when we had 
 attained the end of the long canal, baffled by 
 the flight of golden hours and the park's im- 
 mensity. We sought the pleasant bobby after 
 a last worshipful look at the brilliant flower 
 borders and a last whiff of the tall heliotropes, 
 and learned from him that there is a railway 
 station at Hampton Court and that a train 
 for Waterloo was due in nine minutes. Feel- 
 ing better acquainted with Hampton Court 
 than after our previous visit, we sat down, 
 freshly garbed, before one of Mrs. Dodson's 
 delectable dinners at the customary hour of 
 " half after seven," both hungry, happy, and 
 thoroughly content with another day out from 
 London. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Greenstead 
 
 ONCE upon a time, more than a thousand 
 years ago, there Hved in the little city of 
 Niirnberg a gentle hoy whose name was Ead- 
 mund. Eadmund's father was a king; Alk- 
 mund w^as his name. 
 
 When Offa — the King of East Anglia, who 
 had caused the death of a good, but to him dan- 
 gerous man, and was endeavoring to expiate 
 his sin by journeying to the Holy Land — 
 passed through Niirnberg, he visited Alkmund 
 and saw the little boy Eadmund, who was then 
 thirteen years old. Offa had no son to be king 
 of the East Anglians when death should take 
 him from the throne. The gentle Eadmund 
 pleased him, and was forthwith made his heir. 
 Why Alkmund consented to this when the boy 
 might in time have reigned over the Teutonic 
 
 284 
 
Greenstead 285 
 
 province, we do not know; but we hope it was 
 not for a price. During the following year, 
 while on his way back to England from Jeru- 
 salem, Offa died at Port George, and the boy 
 became monarch over a country he had never 
 seen and of whose language he was ignorant. 
 Had his claim been questioned Offa's ring, 
 which had been given him, was sufficient guar- 
 antee; but the peaceable little country on the 
 western shore of the North Sea made no pro- 
 test. 
 
 Alkmund fitted out a right royal expedition 
 for his son, who " sailed and landed in East 
 Anglia where he made devout prayer to God, 
 and not far from thence he built a royal 
 tower called Hunstantone." Only the name 
 remains of this " rising watering place, with 
 good bathing, a pier, and a golf course," where 
 Eadmund held his court once a year thereafter 
 and then returned to reside at Athelbrough. 
 
 Eadmund was a student and a dreamer; yet 
 there must have been some glamour for the boy 
 in becoming king in this marvelous land that 
 all Europe desired to conquer and possess. On 
 Christmas Day 855 he began to reign; but not 
 until the following Christmas was he crowned 
 and anointed King of East Anglia, being 
 then but fifteen. He learned the Psalter in 
 the Saxon tongue, " which book was preserved 
 
286 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 in the revestrie of the monastery at St. Ed- 
 mundsbury till the church was suppressed in 
 the reign of Henry VIII." 
 
 Happy for the taxpayers is the reign that 
 has no history! Of Eadmund's reign little is 
 known save that he loved his people and served 
 them unselfishly. Trouble came, however, but 
 from without. 
 
 The Danes descended in wolf like fury on 
 peaceable Britain more frequently and fiercely. 
 A tradition states that Ragnar Lodbrog, a 
 Danish pirate who had achieved fame in his 
 free, if not easy, calling, was driven on the Nor- 
 folk coast in a storm. Pirates were presumably 
 heroes to men in those days as they are to boys 
 in these; for Ragnar Lodbrog was conducted 
 to Eadmund's court and received as an hon- 
 ored guest. While out hunting in the royal 
 forest he was accidentally slain and his Danish 
 compatriots, to whose ears the tidings sped like 
 the wind across the sea, were but too ready to 
 accuse the kindly Eadmund of the pirate's 
 murder. 
 
 Of the attack that followed there are several 
 versions. One-states that the king was residing 
 quietly at a village near Heglisdune — the Hill 
 of Eagles — intent upon his studies and devo- 
 tions and unmindful of defending his people 
 against the oncoming wolves ; but that his earl, 
 
Greenstead 287 
 
 Ulf Ketul, met the Danes at Thetford — ^then 
 the seat of both king and bishops of East An- 
 gha — and was defeated. 
 
 Another narrative, that of Eadmund's 
 sword bearer — who related it to Dunstan — 
 would seem more probable. Eadmund, he 
 said, fought in this battle at the head of his 
 people and, horrified by the fearful carnage, he 
 surrendered himself voluntarily to the enemy 
 in hope of saving his subjects from further 
 slaughter. The victorious Danish king sent to 
 Eadmund a message requiring him to yield 
 half of his treasure, renounce his religion and 
 reign under him — the Danish invader, whose 
 only right was might. Eadmund conferred 
 with his bishops, who recommended compliance 
 and urged him to escape. This gentle youth 
 was no coward, and disdaining the priestly 
 counsel he summoned the enemy's emissary, re- 
 fused all the conditions imposed and defied the 
 foe. He was seized, but offered no resistance. 
 
 Naked, he was bound in chains and scourged. 
 Then he was tied to a tree and whipped again. 
 Like St. Sebastian he stood, silent, to be rid- 
 dled with arrows. The tormentors, maddened 
 by his incomprehensible calm, were not satis- 
 fied when death came, but severed the head 
 from the mutilated body and flung it in a ditch. 
 Thus perished the last king of East Anglia. 
 
288 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 From Thetford the body was borne to the 
 Hill of Eagles and buried in the earth under 
 a wooden chapel. According to legend the 
 head was found guarded, in the ditch, by a she- 
 wolf. Could this have been a Danish woman 
 whose heart had been stirred to love and pity? 
 The she- wolf joined the procession that bore 
 the head to be placed with the body. 
 
 About a generation later people told of 
 miracles that were performed by the body un- 
 der the little church, the beloved and martyred 
 king having become to his people a saint. A 
 former king of East Anglia had built a church 
 at Beodricsworth (Bury) , where the sacred re- 
 mains were taken about this time and placed 
 in a jeweled shrine. They were destined not to 
 rest long there, however, for the Danes again 
 poured into the land, led by the mighty Sweyn. 
 The bishops, fearing outrage upon the precious 
 relic, sent it to London, where it remained three 
 years. The danger having passed, the jeweled 
 shrine was borne back to Beodricsworth — now 
 St. Edmundsbury. 
 
 An ancient manuscript informs us that at 
 Aungre a wooden chapel lodged the shrine en 
 route, " which remains to this day." 
 
 Until 1849 a tree stood in Hoxne — the 
 Hill of Eagles — Park, which — overcome at last 
 by the weight of its twelve hundred years — 
 
The lane dipped suddenly. 
 
Greenstead 289 
 
 fell and was split up for firewood. In its trunk 
 an arrowhead was found deeply embedded! 
 
 Our bourne had been Epping Forest; but 
 having breakfasted late and dawdled over a 
 voluminous American mail we were tardy in 
 setting forth upon the day's adventure. To 
 him who is already late comes delay. We had 
 been told to " change " at Mansion House for 
 Bishopsgate, which is the nearest station on the 
 Underground to Liverpool Street. Obedient- 
 ly we alighted and more or less patiently we 
 waited. Trains came and passengers hurried 
 from them, but no train for Bishopsgate ar- 
 rived. At length, when Diana had acidly an- 
 nounced that we could not possibly catch the 
 train for Epping, and reluctantly admitted that 
 there was another a half hour later, a man 
 among the hosts hastening from a train toward 
 the " Way Out " glanced at us, hesitated, lifted 
 his hat and held it while he begged our pardon, 
 but were we waiting for the Bishopsgate train? 
 They run at long intervals," he said. 
 May I show you a surer and quicker way to 
 go? It is but a short distance." We humbly 
 followed him up to the street and preceded him 
 into a bus. 
 
 " You are from across the sea, I reckon — 
 I mean, I guess! " he laughed, Sonia noticed 
 
 
290 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 that the big book he carried was entitled 
 " American Banks and Banking." 
 
 " I'm an American, too," he continued, prob- 
 ably quite conscious that he bore all the John 
 Bull points. " I was on a horse farm in Vir- 
 ginia for ten years. Here's where you get off, 
 ladies. Pray do not mention it ! The greatest 
 pleasure." 
 
 While we were waiting for luncheon in the 
 station restaurant Sonia glanced over a guide 
 book. 
 
 " Oh! " she exclaimed; " let us go there in- 
 stead. We could see it more quickly than the 
 forest, and we haven't very much time, and 
 the forest would be full of Saturday trippers 
 and " 
 
 <( 
 
 What is the cause of this babbling? " Di- 
 ana interrupted; "pray show me what you 
 have been reading." In fine print were these 
 words : 
 
 Greenstead, one mile to the West of Ongar, has a 
 remarkable wooden church, the walls of the nave be- 
 ing formed of upright tree-trunks, said to date from 
 Saxon times. 
 
 We purchased two " third returns " for 
 Chipping Ongar. There remained opportunity 
 to watch the people rushing for suburban 
 
Greenstead 291 
 
 trains. True, we had overlooked the facts that 
 this was Saturday, and that all London leaves 
 for an exurban week end. The third-class car- 
 riages were thronged ; so were the second. The 
 first were empty. Diana led the way into a 
 first-class compartment and opened the win- 
 dow preparatory to comfort. Sonia stood on 
 the platform, wavering, her eyes big with pro- 
 test. 
 
 " Come in, my dear; and please close the 
 door after you." Diana had long since recov- 
 ered the equanimity lost at Mansion House 
 station. 
 
 " But we have third-class tickets! " Soma's 
 conscience was bred of Plymouth Rock an- 
 cestry. 
 
 " It is too late to change them. 
 
 Third, and the world rides with you, 
 First, and you ride alone," 
 
 paraphrased Diana. " I am going to Chip- 
 ping Ongar in this nice blue compartment. If 
 you prefer a brown one and the company of 
 seven overheated city clerks, leave me, but don't 
 look at me as though I were committing grand 
 larceny. If the ticket collector wishes more of 
 our pence he shall have them." Sonia entered. 
 A guard slammed the door after her; a bell 
 
292 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 rang; the engine shrieked and we were off. 
 When the ticket collector saw ours he said no 
 word save: 
 
 " Change at Stratford, if you please, ladies." 
 Sonia would have inquired the sum of our debt 
 to the railway, but he was gone ere she could 
 utter a word. 
 
 " Stratford! It is not possible — " she said 
 instead. 
 
 " No, that is Stratford-on-Avon. This is, I 
 fancy, Stratford-atte-bow." 
 
 At the many stations en route to Ongar, the 
 city wagemen and holiday-going women and 
 children, together with dozens of empty milk 
 cans, were " set down," as the railway time bills 
 would say. When we stepped on the platform 
 at Ongar, the last station on the line, there was 
 a jumping-off-place appearance about the 
 quiet little station where neither cab nor porter 
 waited. Toward the left a few buildings indi- 
 cated the presence of an unobstrusive village. 
 Elsewhere was naught but rusticity — just that 
 wonderful remoteness from the metropolis that 
 is so characteristic of the country the moment 
 London's grasp is outreached! 
 
 We asked an old man loitering near the sta- 
 tion if he could direct us to Greenstead. He 
 did so clearly, gazing at us the while in simple 
 wonderment as to our errand. We came sud- 
 
'r 
 
 These sturdy Saxon timbers that hare stood corner to corner 
 
 for a thousand years. 
 
Greenstead 29S 
 
 denly upon the lane, between rose-flecked 
 hedges, which led to Greenstead. Some chil- 
 dren were playing there. They paused and 
 looked wonderingly at us with the villager's 
 instinctive inquisitiveness regarding the unex- 
 plained presence of strangers. We smiled at 
 them and proceeded. Suddenly the lane dipped 
 into rich pastures, and thenceforth it became a 
 broad grassy path between magnificent trees 
 which themselves might have stood since pre- 
 Norman times. There being no necessity for 
 haste we sauntered leisurely along this delight- 
 ful mile, so as to lose no detail of its charm 
 and also to permit full play to the feeling of 
 detachment from London in whose heat and 
 hurry we had been less than an hour ago. Be- 
 fore reaching an imposing residence at the end 
 of a long vista the path swerved to the left and 
 skirted a hay field beyond which we spied the 
 wooden tower of the tiny church at Green- 
 stead. 
 
 If the shelter that was erected for the protec- 
 tion of Eadmund's sacred shrine were chosen 
 for remoteness as well as peacefulness and 
 beauty of environment, a fitter site could 
 scarcely have been found. The square timbers 
 might have been lately set in the wooden sill 
 where corner to corner they have stood for a 
 thousand years, so perfect is their condition. 
 
294 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Thirty generations of men have come and gone 
 within these walls and themselves made room 
 for others. Perhaps the pious builders of the 
 simple lodging for the relics of a simple-hearted 
 saint had some prescience of the almost immor- 
 tality that would be granted the timbers they 
 hewed from the Forest of Essex. To us the 
 dignity of this little church was more spiritual 
 in its appeal than the carefully thought-out 
 lines and exotic richness of emblematical deco- 
 ration in the fairest Gothic minster could be. 
 We thought of the royal-ecclesiastical march 
 along the Roman road or British track, bar- 
 baric in its splendor, yet simple in its grief for 
 a slain king and its reverence for a martyred 
 saint. We dwelt on the nights when lights 
 burned within the tiny temple and watch fires 
 flared on the spears of alert sentinels. At 
 length Sonia said : 
 
 " Perhaps we can go in." In the porch was 
 a notice stating that the key could be obtained 
 at the Farm Cottage. Across the road were 
 two cottages. We rang the bell of the nearest 
 and then knocked, to prove that we were no or- 
 dinary folk; but none opened unto us. At the 
 second an irate female iterated that the key 
 was at the farm cottage. We humbly inquired 
 where that might be and were grudgingly told. 
 
 " All is not peace that's quiet," sighed Sonia. 
 
Greenstead 295 
 
 " The key is larger than the situation! " ex- 
 claimed the delighted Diana, swinging it gayly 
 on its jingling chain and watching the glisten 
 of its silvery polish wrought by age and use. 
 When the bolt flew back with a clang at our 
 command, all the thrills we had felt during our 
 Walter Scott days came back with a rush. In- 
 side, the little church is much like many mod- 
 ern English churches and destroyed the spell 
 which the timbers had wrought about our fancy. 
 We locked the door again and withdrew the 
 giant key from the portal; but Diana would 
 not hear to its immediate return to the Farm 
 Cottage. She played with it, coveted it, and 
 imagined the wild joy of stealing it. Sonia 
 suggested that she " take " a photograph of it, 
 which would be the next best thing. And with 
 this she was perforce content. 
 
 We lingered to enjoy all the roses, from the 
 creamy gloire-de-Dijons clinging to the east 
 wall of the church to the tall trees freighted 
 with damask or deep-red ones. The church- 
 yard is small and not too full of graves. A 
 few clustered yews add solemnity to its beau- 
 tiful, fragrant peace. 
 
 Reluctantly we yielded the key to the woman 
 at the Farm Cottage, who ingloriously hung it 
 on a nail inside the door, as though it were 
 a beer mug. She was incapable of sharing our 
 
296 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 sentiment; but the touch of silver on her pahn 
 brought lustre to her weary eyes. 
 
 We walked back to Ongar by road, which 
 we had occasion to regret, for we thereby 
 lengthened the distance and trudged through 
 dust and sun instead of idling along the grassy 
 lane by which we had come. But Diana never 
 likes to return the way she has come. 
 
 We sought vainly the remains of Ongar's — 
 once — Norman castle. No trace of it is vis- 
 ible ; and its very site is problematical. Perhaps 
 this was one of Henry II's eleven hundred. 
 
 " Where have you globe trotters been to- 
 day? " was asked of us at dinner that evening 
 in Palace Gardens by our hostess. 
 
 " To Chipping Ongar and Greenstead," re- 
 plied Diana demurely. 
 
 "I say, now! You are joking, really." 
 
 " Indeed no." 
 
 " I never heard of such a place. Did you. 
 Sir Arthur? " 
 
 " Tell us what you went for," said he. 
 
 " We saw an old Saxon church and had one 
 of the most entrancingly lovely walks imag- 
 inable." 
 
 "Ha! Ha! Ha! You Americans are so 
 amusuig. Aren't there churches enough in 
 London? " 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 Greenwich 
 
 IS Greenwich far away? We really 
 ought to go there and see whether white- 
 bait on its native heath, or out of its native 
 hatchery, is as much better than the usual sort 
 as peas from your own garden or apples from 
 somebody's else's." 
 
 *' How odd that you should mention Green- 
 wich! I was just going to ask you for the 
 scissors so I could cut out an advertisement 
 from the Telegraph of steamers that ply to 
 Margate and stop at Greenwich on certain — 
 what day is this? Wednesday? Let us hurry 
 into our street things and we can catch the 
 twelve o'clock boat." 
 
 At the top of the steps to the landing stage 
 we hesitated. A man leaning on the railing 
 took from his mouth a well-colored pipe and 
 asked if he could be of any assistance. 
 
 297 
 
298 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 " Is this the landing for the Greenwich 
 steamers? " He shook his head sadly, yet with 
 a peculiar pitying expression on the front of it 
 that regarded us as though we had been chil- 
 dren requesting him to hand us the moon. 
 
 " Ow, now! lydies; they eyen't no boats to 
 Grinnidge." 
 
 " They are advertised in the newspapers." 
 *' Mye be. They ad em awn, but business 
 was a bit dull and so they were tyken orf." 
 
 Diana thanked him. " You need not tell me 
 a steamer company in frugal England would 
 pay to advertise boats that do not run — sail — 
 steam," she said to Sonia. We went down the 
 steps. A man in uniform stood on the hobbling 
 landing. We put the question to him. He 
 looked bland, then blank ; at length a gleam of 
 almost human intelligence lit his eye. 
 " Ow, you mean the 31 a?' gate steamer." 
 " It stops at Greenwich; does it not? " 
 " Yes, Miss ; but it is the Margate steamer. 
 The time bills is chynged since last week. 
 The next boat is at one o'clock." Big Ben was 
 chiming twelve. We all but decided to forego 
 Greenwich, and London whispered: 
 " Stay here and do some shopping! " 
 " There's a tram starts just across the bridge 
 for Greenwich, if you don't wish to wait for the 
 Margate steamer. You are American lydies, 
 
Greenwich 299 
 
 I suppose? No, indeed! Miss, they are not 
 all alike; but they've a wye about them, you 
 know. Thank you, Miss! Good-dye, lydies." 
 
 The tram starts from the bourne of all the 
 busses we had not wanted on innumerable occa- 
 sions — the Elephant and Castle Inn — which is 
 a center for many tram lines as well as omni- 
 buses. From a front seat on top of the car we 
 observed that the newness and yet settled com- 
 monplaceness of this part of London was un- 
 like any other we had seen. We passed a bit 
 of Kennington Park, in which Jerry Aver- 
 shawe had once swung from a gallows tree. 
 Via Camberwell Road we swung along Kent- 
 wards. The young maples, the plenitude of 
 baby carriages and rubber plants and a large 
 new, Americanlike public school — a rare sight 
 is any school but charity, church, or pay insti- 
 tutions — all reminded us strongly of Brooklyn. 
 
 " I feel as though we were on the way to 
 Coney Island," Sonia remarked. " If the 
 houses were of wood or brownstone instead of 
 this dun brick I should be certain we were in 
 the neighborhood of our respectable Kings 
 County friends." 
 
 " St. Giles, Camberwell — was not that one 
 of Edward Alleyn's four parishes? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear, and more than that. Cam- 
 berwell is the birthplace of Robert Browning." 
 
300 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 " How poky this horrid tram is ! When I go 
 anywhere in this way again I shall — not go at 
 all!" Diana would seem to have a drop of 
 Irish blood. "What is this? Peckham? It 
 looks it. I am tempted to go below and take 
 a nap until we get to Greenwich — if we ever 
 do." 
 
 " I trust sleep may restore your cheerfulness. 
 I think this is an interesting ride — I mean as 
 compared to that dreadful one to Hampton 
 Court. I shall not tell you about the nice 
 things we pass. Oh, what lovely baskets! " 
 
 " * Made by the Blind ' "; Diana's interest 
 revived. " I wish we could stop and get 
 one." 
 
 "What! delay arrival at Greenwich? We 
 might lose half an hour waiting for the next 
 car." 
 
 At length, " Lo Grenewich, there many a 
 shrew is in," and we descended at the unpre- 
 tentious gate of Greenwich Park. 
 
 The grass looked footworn and as weary as 
 the mangy deer, whose ennui we longed to dis- 
 pel with a bag of peanuts, a comestible they 
 had never sniffed. This part of the park was 
 full of boisterous children who scampered 
 screaming among, but did not disturb the 
 dozens of men who had flung themselves down 
 in shaded places with the unpleasant abandon 
 
Greenwich 301 
 
 we had not yet learned to look upon com- 
 placently. 
 
 " England's leisure class appears to be ap- 
 pallingly large," muttered Sonia a little tim- 
 orously as we hastened away. We found a 
 path that led us to the brow of a hill from 
 which, though haze-veiled distance was denied 
 us, there was a wide view up and down the 
 Thames. Beyond the forest of masts and 
 Hampstead Hill, however, Sonia declared she 
 saw Epping Forest. 
 
 " In fine weather," said Diana from a newly- 
 acquired fund of information, " Windsor is 
 visible." And here Turner made the original 
 sketch for one of his greatest canvases: " Lon- 
 don from Greenwich." The sketch is preserved 
 in the Liber Studiorum at the South Kensing- 
 ton Museum. Here, too, the great doctor- 
 etcher, Sir Seymour Haden, sketched the study 
 for one of his finest plates : " The Break- 
 ing-up of H. M. S. Agamemnon.'' 
 
 " Have you noticed," asked Sonia, as we sat 
 where so many famous and infamous people 
 have paused to gaze and to ponder, " have you 
 observed that every one of our trips out from 
 London has been like a golden link in a chain 
 whose end we have not yet attained ? Perhaps 
 it has no end, but forms a magic circle of 
 human history about " 
 
302 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 *' I see what you mean : sort of a non-skid- 
 ding tire chain, London being the hub of the 
 wheel and we mere inquisitive insects venturing 
 out upon the spokes and discovering that they 
 all lead to parts of the selfsame chain." 
 
 " You have a deplorable habit of dragging 
 me down from spiritual heights to your own 
 level " 
 
 " The vicinity of six feet from mother earth 
 is high enough for you. But pray elucidate. 
 Wherein is Greenwich constituted among your 
 alleged golden links? " 
 
 " You remember a play called ' Henry V,' 
 written by a friend of Edward Alleyn and su- 
 perbly performed by Richard Mansfield? Very 
 good. You may also recall that while * Sweet 
 Kate ' with her infant son awaited at Windsor 
 the return of her lord who had carried off with 
 him to France our friend James Stewart whose 
 romance with Jane, daughter of the Earl of 
 Somerset, was then in its incipiency — Henry 
 lay dying at Vincennes and commanded his 
 brother, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, to 
 become ' protector ' of the baby monarch? " 
 
 " Your sentence is somewhat involved ; and 
 I perceive therein reference to several links; 
 but Greenwich appears not among them." 
 
 " Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, was lord 
 of these very acres on which we are now repos- 
 
Greenwich 303 
 
 ing! He it was who built the palace of Pla- 
 centia overlooking the Thames ; and on yonder 
 lofty summit that looks like an overgrown toy- 
 shop, but is presumably the Royal Observa- 
 tory, stood his tower Mirefleur." 
 
 " Oh, that must have been the Miraflores 
 where Amadis of Gaul and his lovely Oriana 
 had so many romantic adventures!" Diana, 
 too, could rhapsodize upon occasion. 
 
 The story of Duke Humphrey is picturesque 
 enough to inspire a long tale. Still more dra- 
 matic is that of the beautiful Jacqueline, 
 Countess of Hainault and Holland, whom 
 Humphrey first saw at Vincennes at the time 
 of his brother's death. When fifteen years old 
 she had been married to the Duke of Touraine, 
 who became two years later Dauphin of 
 France. A dose of Catherine's " medicine " 
 thereupon removed him from the political per- 
 spective; and after a brief widowhood seven- 
 teen-year-old Jacqueline was married, for rea- 
 sons of state, to the Duke of Brabant. This 
 Flemish duke was not only a brute but a cow- 
 ard — the two qualities are near akin — and after 
 the young duchess had been forced to lead her 
 armies against a foe from which her husband 
 fled, having suffered meanwhile untold cruelty 
 from him, she succeeded in obtaining permis- 
 sion from the pope for a separation from Bra- 
 
304 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 bant. Duke Humphrey of Gloucester had 
 been on more than friendly terms with Eleanor, 
 daughter of the Kentish Duke, Cobham; but 
 nevertheless he became enamored of Jacqueline 
 and they were married. They came to Eng- 
 land and enjoyed a brief period of happiness. 
 In 1423 the Duke and Duchess of Glouces- 
 ter became members of the lay fraternity of 
 St. Alban's Abbey, whose abbot Whethamp- 
 stead was a college chum of Humphrey at Ox- 
 ford. The young couple spent a Christmas 
 at the abbey, and contributed liberally to the 
 coffers and vestment chests thereof. Another 
 duke, he of Burgundy, who was a kinsman of 
 Jacqueline, brought about further necessity for 
 battle with her armies, and after two years in 
 England she returned to Hainault to lead her 
 people against the foe. Humphrey, true to his 
 new titles of Count of Hainault, of Holland 
 and of Flanders, and Lord of Friesland, ac- 
 companied and aided her. Her forces met with 
 defeat and when she would have returned to 
 England, the people of ]Mons, her native town, 
 besought her to remain there. She did so and 
 Humphrey returned to England. She never 
 saw him again, for the crafty Eleanor held out 
 her seductive little finger, around which the 
 susceptible duke was shortly " wound," in 
 which position her strong will and insatiable 
 
Greenwich 305 
 
 ambition held him long after her charm for him 
 had passed. Burgundy's machinations had 
 procured a papal decree pronouncing Jacque- 
 line's divorce from Brabant invalid, and her 
 marriage, therefore, with Duke Humphrey 
 was annulled. Eleanor shortly became Duch- 
 ess of Gloucester and the little Dutch girl was 
 forgotten. 
 
 Had the first Duchess of Gloucester contin- 
 ued her career in England, Humphrey might 
 have been one of the greatest men in the his- 
 tory of that kingdom. Shakspeare calls him 
 " good Duke Humphrey," and he was popular 
 with both Parliament and the people; but his 
 wife's desire to be queen was the ultimate cause 
 not only of their own undoing, but of the fall 
 of the house of Lancaster. Aside from the 
 duke's diplomatic abilities, he was naturally a 
 student, and had mastered several languages. 
 His letters to certain distinguished foreigners 
 in their own tongues and in Latin are now ex- 
 tant and fill a number of volumes. To the Uni- 
 versity of Oxford he bequeathed a hundred and 
 thirty " rare books " as an entry in an old reg- 
 ister states it. These have been absorbed in 
 the Bodleian, and it is not known which of this 
 library's vast aggregation of treasures are the 
 duke's gift. He had a fondness also for archi- 
 tectural study and built the " Divinity School " 
 
306 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 at Oxford. He aided in embellishing and re- 
 storing many parts of St. Alban's Abbey. As 
 patron of the poet Lydgate he also showed his 
 interest in England's budding literature. On 
 the occasion of the coronation of the baby king, 
 Henry VI, Lydgate wrote a long poem. The 
 duke came in for a share of his eulogy: 
 
 Due of Gloucester men this prince call ; 
 
 And notwithstanding his state and dignitie, 
 His corage never doth appalle 
 
 To studie in booke of Antiquite; 
 
 Therein he hath so great felicite 
 Vertuosli himself to occupie. 
 
 Of vinous slouth to have the maistrie. 
 
 Holinshed says of him: "He was an up- 
 right and politike governour, bending all his 
 indeavours to the advancement of the common- 
 wealth ; verie loving to the poore commons, and 
 so beloved of them againe; learned, wise, full 
 of courtesie, void of pride and ambition, but 
 where it is most commendable." 
 
 Even Shakspeare, however, admits to the 
 incessant bickering between Humphrey and 
 Cardinal Beaufort, who was a son of John of 
 Gaunt, and hoped to obtain to an ecclesiastical 
 office that should rival that of Canterbury. 
 This Humphrey had prevented. Beaufort's 
 enmity for Gloucester was no greater than 
 
Greenwich 307 
 
 that of Queen Margaret, who saw through 
 Eleanor's ambition that the king's protector 
 become possessed of the crown as well. Henry, 
 who as he grew into manhood loved and de- 
 pended upon his uncle, could not have been 
 party to his death, although when tales were 
 brought to him of alleged treasonable remarks 
 made by the duke, he caused him to be sum- 
 moned to the court, then at Bury. Said Beau- 
 fort: 
 
 That he should die is worthy policie. 
 But yet we want a color for his death ; 
 'Tis meet he be condemned by course of law. 
 
 He was, but before punishment could be 
 imposed Beaufort and the Duke of Suffolk, 
 Queen Margaret's tool, arranged a means 
 whereby Humphrey was found " dead in his 
 bed." King Henry commanded that the body 
 be borne in state to St. Paul's in London, where 
 it remained for several days before going forth 
 to its final resting place in St. Alban's Abbey. 
 A legend that the body was interred in St. 
 Paul's was for many years believed; but in 
 recent times when it became necessary to make 
 a vault under the Saints' Chapel in St. Alban's 
 a little stone staircase was discovered under 
 the pavement, which led down to an ancient 
 vault where the duke's body was found, mar- 
 
308 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 velously preserved, " embalmed in a brown 
 liquor." The miraculous power of the abbey's 
 especial saint having disappeared, due to the 
 controversy with the monks of Ely as to the 
 actual possession of the worthy Alban's bones, 
 the discovery of Duke Humphrey's body was 
 a source of rich revenue to the abbey ; but un- 
 fortunately the good brothers had not be- 
 thought them to protect the " remains " from 
 air, and the embalming fluid evaporated, 
 whereupon the last vestiges of the " good 
 duke " M ere not sufficient to " stop a hole to 
 keep the wind away." 
 
 All this was borne in upon us by means of 
 local guide books and our insufficient memories 
 of history lessons and Shakspeare's plays the 
 while we sat on the httle hill in Greenwich 
 Park. 
 
 " I have been thinking," mused Sonia, " how 
 different were those two corteges from Bury 
 to London — Eadmund's and Humphrey's." 
 
 "Yes," responded Diana; "I am in the 
 mood ' to sit down on the ground and tell sad 
 stories of the death of kings ' ; but — oh, dear ! 
 we wanted to see the time ball drop. What 
 time is it? " 
 
 " Eleven minutes and a half too late! " 
 
 Wherefore we started for the observatory 
 almost on a run, lest anything else escape us. 
 
Greenwich 309 
 
 By " sign language," as Diana termed it, we 
 learned that the buildings could only be seen by 
 special permit. We agreed that we were quite 
 satisfied with this arrangement and averred 
 that these queer-shaped structures were un- 
 canny and might be the abode of all sorts of 
 cabalistic doings. We looked at the big 
 twenty-four-hour clock, which is the only por- 
 tion of this house of magic that is bold enough 
 to show its face to the public gaze. 
 
 " Mercy! " exclaimed Diana; " we are stand- 
 ing on a meridian. Ever since I studied geog- 
 raphy I have pictured the meridians as big 
 cables tied to the poles. I believe I am disap- 
 pointed not to find it true. Do you feel any 
 peculiar sensations? " 
 
 '* Not even a galvanic thrill. I never have 
 been able to understand why so much fuss is 
 made about meridians and longitude. Why are 
 not zones and latitude quite as important? I 
 have always preferred bayadere stripes to ver- 
 tical ones." 
 
 " Meridians must have been decided by those 
 wizards in yonder to be more becoming to the 
 stout figure of Mother Earth. There must be 
 another fine view around this corner. Let us 
 go and see! " 
 
 A large park is much like a street car in that 
 the farther we penetrate beyond the entrance. 
 
310 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 the pleasanter it becomes. The heart of Green- 
 wich Park was silent, deserted almost; and we 
 were monarchs of all we surveyed, save for the 
 occasional appearance of a uniformed guard. 
 We traversed long broad avenues whose trees 
 were superb. Many of the elms were planted 
 when the park was made in 1664; but there are 
 yews, Lebanon cedars, hawthorns, and great 
 Spanish chestnuts that had then been standing 
 hundreds of years. 
 
 We came to a fine old house that is now the 
 Ranger's House, but might have been a resi- 
 dence of Lord Chesterfield or some of his con- 
 temporaries. Passing through it we stood at 
 the edge of a large bare common which at first 
 we mistook for Blackheath. Back into the 
 park again we followed the shaded path beside 
 the wall where had stood Montague House, the 
 residence of poor persecuted Queen Caroline, 
 whose enforced divorce by George IV was more 
 inhuman than that of Catherine of Aragon by 
 the Bluebeard Hal. It was here that the so- 
 called " Delicate Investigation " was held. 
 There was nothing to be investigated, and 
 therefore no real evidence against her charac- 
 ter could be obtained. There remains, near 
 the wall a sunken stone bath which is called 
 hers, and may have been a fountain in her gar- 
 den. 
 
Greenwich 311 
 
 Blackheath, happily, has not yet been swal- 
 lowed by the jerry-builders, but still retains 
 enough of its ancient character to permit full 
 play to our fancy visions of the dramatic events 
 that have occurred upon it. In those letters 
 from Lord Chesterfield to his son, which re- 
 veal the utter absence of real character under 
 the diplomatic veneer which was in his estima- 
 tion all that a courtier required, he refers to 
 Erunswick House, his Blackheath residence, 
 as " Babiola." The walk on which we had 
 emerged through the Ranger's House is known 
 as Chesterfield Walk. Brunswick House and 
 Montague House both adjoined the park. 
 
 The Watling Street crossed Blackheath 
 about where the London Road now is. Many 
 ancient barrows of British and Roman origin 
 remained until lately. When opened they fre- 
 quently contained, if an}i;hing, merely a few 
 bones, which obtains wherever they exist. One 
 was permitted to remain in the center of Black- 
 heath. This was the scene of the gathering of 
 the rebellious followers of Wat Tyler before 
 their march to London. The sad and infamous 
 causes of this uprising are too well known to 
 be reiterated here — and so indeed are the re- 
 sults — but the oppression of the people by the 
 fortune-favored classes always brings an ache 
 to our hearts. Doubtless the Puritan and 
 
312 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Huguenot blood in us still contains traces of 
 our ancestors' experiences. 
 
 In the barrow Jack Cade stuck his flag when 
 his thirty thousand Kentish men also met here, 
 and this clerk of Chatham, pretender to royal 
 birth, also led his mob to the gates of London, 
 shouting bombastically: "Now is Mortimer 
 lord of this citie ! " 
 
 And here camped Henry VI with his Lan- 
 castrian forces en route to the battle of St. 
 Albans. 
 
 When Lord Audley and his Cornish troops 
 came this way looking for trouble they were 
 met and defeated at Blackheath by the army of 
 the seventh Henry. A prettier ceremony was 
 that which for many centuries was customary 
 — the meeting of distinguished foreign visitors 
 to the Court of England by royalty in person 
 or adequate representatives — was effected with 
 much pomp and splendor on Blackheath, and 
 the guests were conducted in state to London. 
 
 " I think I should not have liked that," said 
 practical Diana. " After a dusty drive of sev- 
 eral days from Dover, I should have preferred 
 to postpone the royal welcome until I had been 
 shown to my apartments at the palace and had 
 a chance to bathe and dress." 
 
 In 1400, when Manuel, Emperor of Con- 
 stantinople, came with gifts and a request for 
 
Greenwich 313 
 
 aid against the Sultan Bajazet, with whom he 
 beheved himself unable to cope without the 
 assistance of the great white Christian king, 
 Henry IV met him here. Sixteen years after 
 his coming the Holy Roman Emperor Sigis- 
 mund, who had married a relative of Henry V, 
 was also welcomed at Blackheath and escorted 
 to Lambeth Palace. 
 
 When Henry returned from Agincourt the 
 people of London could not wait to greet him 
 there, so the mayor and four hundred citizens 
 clad in scarlet robes with red and white hoods 
 acclaimed him here. This picture thrills with 
 its enthusiasm. 
 
 So let him land 
 And solemnly see him set on to London. 
 So swift a space hath thought, that even now 
 You may imagine him on Blackheath; 
 Where that his lords desire him, to have home 
 His bruised helmet and his bended sword. 
 Before him, through the city : he forbids it, 
 Being free from vainness, and self-glorious pride; 
 Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent, 
 Quite from himself to God. But now behold 
 In the quick forge and workinghouse of thought, 
 How London doth pour out her citizens ! 
 The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort, 
 Like to the senators of the antique Rome, 
 With the plebeians swarming at their heels, 
 Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in. 
 
314 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 How different his return a few years later ! 
 
 Cardinal Campeius, who came as the pope's 
 emissary regarding the divorce of Henry VIII 
 from Catherine, was met on Blackheath by the 
 Duke of Norfolk and his suite. 
 
 In his delightful letters to Richard Bentley, 
 Horace Walpole writes: " I was charmed lately 
 at a visit I made to the Cardigans at Black- 
 heath. Would you believe that I had never 
 been in Greenwich Park? I never had, and am 
 transported! Even the glories of Richmond 
 and Twickenham hide their diminished rays." 
 
 Charles II, returned and about to be re- 
 stored, came hither on the Watling Street, 
 passed through the ranks of the Army of the 
 Restoration, and was welcomed by Sir Henry 
 Lee, of Woodstock. Instead of the homes 
 of wealthy and distinguished Londoners, the 
 houses now surrounding Blackheath are chiefly 
 boarding schools and lodging houses. 
 
 The body of General Wolfe was borne hither 
 after his gallant fight at Quebec and was in- 
 terred in the parish church in Greenwich, where 
 a memorial window to him was installed. 
 
 We entered the park again. " I thought 
 we came to Greenwich to dine on whitebait. 
 I am getting very tired and ravenously hungry. 
 How can we find the town and something to 
 eat? " 
 
Greenwich 315 
 
 *' I confess it looks as though we should be 
 ' dining with Duke Humphrey ' to-day. If we 
 go back to the Ranger's House we can't have 
 anything more substantial than tea and sand- 
 wiches. Here comes an empty cab I " 
 
 The cabman proved himself a friend in need 
 and in deed. He would not allow us to leave 
 the park, however, until we had seen the feeble 
 attempt at an oak which is called Queen Eliza- 
 beth's, but is in reality a tall stump covered 
 with ivy. He saw to it also that we visited the 
 *' remains of a Roman villa," which was a not 
 very large hole in the ground and might have 
 served somebody as a well, had it contained that 
 requisite in a well — water. He drove us then 
 past Vanbrugh " Castle " outside the park, 
 which had been built, we supposed, by that 
 clever Sir John Vanbrugh, who, having been 
 born in the Bastille, came to England in his 
 youth, and became distinguished in many ways. 
 Gifted with courtly manners, he was for many 
 years a brilliant social light in England, of 
 whom no breath of scandal was whispered. He 
 was distinguished, moreover, as a successful 
 playwright. Even Pope and Swift, " the two 
 best haters of the time," could not quite justify 
 themselves in throwing the acid of their wit 
 upon him. Vanbrugh was a successful but 
 not a great architect, although this " castle '* 
 
316 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 at Greenwich, which became his home when he 
 had been appointed secretary to the commis- 
 sion for endowing Greenwich Hospital, is full 
 of charm. More pretentious are Castle How- 
 ard in Yorkshire, and that which he was com- 
 missioned to build for Queen Anne — Blen- 
 heim. 
 
 And now at last was there hope of satisfying 
 our prodigious appetites. At the Old Ship 
 Tavern we were offered a balcony overhanging 
 the Thames, which we gleefully accepted. We 
 had not long to wait, for a large private party 
 was being feasted in one of the upper rooms, 
 and as whitebait in excess of their capacity 
 had been prepared, we profited thereby. Our 
 servitor was of a type presumably peculiar to 
 Greenwich and the Old Ship. He was a negro, 
 clad in the cast-off evening clothes of some 
 gentleman many sizes larger than he. We 
 tried vainly not to smile while he was present. 
 
 " I believe," hazarded Sonia, " that his en- 
 tire wardrobe descended to him from Mr. 
 Gladstone. That cravat, which is so big and 
 black and which he has so much difficulty in re- 
 straining from climbing up over his left ear, 
 could not have been the property of anybody 
 but the ' grand old man.' " 
 
 We had become accustomed to coarse napery 
 and the spots of some one else's meal, also to 
 
Greenwich 317 
 
 the absence of serviettes ; but when a great plat- 
 ter of golden brown fish was laid before us, 
 aromatic and steaming, with an accompani- 
 ment of boiled potatoes and cucumber salad, 
 we were quite content. 
 
 "What is whitebait?" Sonia asked while 
 she daintily caught one on her fork. 
 
 " One of our books says they are the * small 
 fry ' of herring ; but it seems this supposition 
 was at one time threshed out in Parliament 
 and the Piscicuolos minutos were declared to 
 be little fishes that never grow larger than this. 
 This part of the river seems to be their best 
 feeding ground, and that is why the cabinet 
 ministers decided to come down here for their 
 banquets which celebrate the close of Parlia- 
 ment. When it was supposed that their feast- 
 ing consumed hundreds — thousands — of baby 
 herrings it was discontinued as being cruel and 
 a direct infringement on laws which preclude 
 the catching of any fish smaller than a certain 
 size. After a lapse of fifteen years the Disraeli 
 government revived the custom, it having been 
 demonstrated to their conscientious satisfac- 
 tion that the fishes were not ' small fry,' but 
 full-sized fry." 
 
 " I am glad of that. It has always required 
 a little strength of purpose for me to swallow 
 with equanimity so many heads, eyes — and I 
 
318 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 should hate to think I were responsible for the 
 slaughter of so many innocents. I don't be- 
 lieve I want to eat any more, just because we 
 have been talking about it." 
 
 " You eat caviare, do you not? and squab 
 chicken? and have I not seen you wear baby 
 lamb? If I had to suffer a violent death, I 
 should rather have it happen in infancy; there 
 would not be so much of me to die." 
 
 " Gladstone " went for what he called des- 
 sert, and we waited some time for — cheese ; but 
 we were eager to see the Palace of Placentia 
 and brooked no further delay due to cheese. 
 
 When Humphrey of Gloucester died, his 
 manor and lands became crown property. By 
 Edward IV the mansion was enlarged and 
 until the commencement of the Civil War it 
 continued to be a royal residence. Henry 
 VIII was born here and so were his daughters 
 Mary and Elizabeth. 
 
 We have records of many sumptuous enter- 
 tainments that were given about this time at 
 Greenwich Palace, as it had then come to be 
 called. One chronicler states that in 1513 there 
 was performed, " disguising after the manner 
 of Italic, a maske, a thing not seen afore in 
 England, on the daie of the Epiphany at 
 night." 
 
 A few years later the boys of St. Paul's 
 
Greenwich 319 
 
 School acted a morality at Greenwich in honor 
 of certain French ambassadors come in quest 
 of Henry's aid against Charles V of Spain. 
 After the royal banquet " the king led the am- 
 bassadors into the great chamber of disguis- 
 ings ; and in the end of the same chamber was 
 a fountain, and on one side was a hawthorn 
 tree all of silk with white flowers, and on the 
 other side was a mulberry tree full of fair ber- 
 ries, all of silk." Atop of the hawthorn tree 
 were the arms of England compassed with the 
 order of St. Michael, and on the mulberry the 
 arms of France within a garter. About this 
 marble and gold fountain were bunches of 
 rosemary, " fretted in braydes laid on gold, all 
 the sides set with roses on branches as they 
 were growing about this fountain. On the 
 benches sate eight fair ladies in strange attire." 
 While the infamous assemblage of bishops — 
 London, Winchester, Lincoln, Bath, and Wells 
 — were, under Canterbury Cranmer's direc- 
 tion, finding cause for the divorce of the Ara- 
 gonnaise from her royal spouse, Catherine's 
 maid of honor was waiting at Greenwich Pal- 
 ace for the news that should permit her to be 
 queen. Four days before that verdict she was 
 brought in state to the Tower by the Lord 
 Mayor and the city companies " with one of 
 those splendid exhibitions upon the water which 
 
320 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 in the days when the silver Thames deserved its 
 name, and the sun could shine down upon it 
 out of the blue summer sky, were spectacles 
 scarcely rivaled in gorgeousness by the world- 
 famous wedding of the Adriatic. The river 
 was crowded with boats, the banks and the ships 
 in the pool swarmed with people, and fifty great 
 barges formed the great procession, all blaz- 
 ing with gold and banners." The queen-elect's 
 barge was preceded by " a foyst or w after full 
 of ordnance, in which was a great dragon con- 
 tinually moving and casting wildfire, and round 
 about the foj^st stood terrible monsters and 
 wild men, casting fire and making hideous 
 noise." The king awaited her at the Tower 
 steps. 
 
 This marriage, however, was not liked by the 
 ecclesiastics, and in those days the church had 
 power to make the divine right of kings seem 
 but a poor thing. Attached to the Royal 
 Chapel at Greenwich was a convent of Observ- 
 ants. At this time Father Forest was warden, 
 who, having been Catherine's confessor, re- 
 mained faithful to her interests and proclaimed 
 from the pulpit his condemnation of the mar- 
 riage. Cromwell had not been spared either; 
 but Cromwell had his revenge. The priest was 
 summoned to the court. His zeal proved to be 
 greater than his knowledge of ministerial meth- 
 
This great-hearted little fighter. 
 
Greenwich 321 
 
 ods. Cromwell received him graciously, as did 
 the king; and we can see fair Anne with a 
 smirk on her face and hatred in her small heart. 
 This tolerance Father Forest mistook for fear 
 of his power and promptly lost his head, figura- 
 tively speaking. The literal loss came ulti- 
 mately, for he perished at the stake. 
 
 Another priest. Father Peto, afterwards 
 cardinal, preached in the Royal Chapel at 
 Greenwich in denunciation of Henry and this 
 marriage. He foretold, moreover, the licking 
 of his blood by dogs when the king should be- 
 come a corpse. And when the great body lay 
 at Syon House, this horrid prediction was ful- 
 filled. 
 
 In this same " Friars Chapel," as Shak- 
 speare calls it, Henry's christening had oc- 
 curred. Elizabeth's, too, was solemnized with 
 great pomp. The " Manor of Pleasaunce " 
 was one of her favorite residences. May Day, 
 the great annual holiday, was, during her time, 
 always observed at Greenwich mth elaborate 
 festivities. Here, too, she received the deputies 
 from the United Provinces, 
 
 They whom the rod of Alva bruised, 
 Whose crown a British queen refused — 
 
 come to offer her sovereignty of their crushed 
 but still courageous lands. 
 
322 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 Hentzner, a German traveler who recorded 
 many of his impressions, saw Queen Bess in 
 1598, in her " dress of white silk with pearls as 
 large as beans, a small crown on her " (sixty- 
 five-years-old) " red tresses, and the long train 
 of her robe borne by a marchioness." It was 
 at Greenwich, also, that Raleigh first inter- 
 viewed her and became immortal by means of 
 a muddied coat. Only a part of the crypt re- 
 mains of the palace as it was then. 
 
 James I made notable additions to the pal- 
 ace ; but the Queen's House, intended for Anne 
 of Denmark — and which she called her " house 
 of delight " — was not completed until later, 
 when Inigo Jones was given the commission. 
 Henrietta Maria, who lived in such troublous 
 times, preferred Green^vich to all the other 
 royal residences and came here whenever she 
 could. 
 
 When Charles II became the national " new 
 broom " he did a few good things, fortu- 
 nately, for he did so many unpleasant 
 things and left undone so much that was 
 necessary. 
 
 " I believe," said Sonia, " that Americans 
 must have a large proportion of royal blood in 
 their circulatory system, for where else could 
 they have obtained their incurable propensity 
 for tearing down perfectly good buildings in 
 
Greenwich 323 
 
 order to see new ones of their own planning 
 arise J 
 
 Sonia may be mistaken ; but certain it is that 
 King Charles, finding Greenwich Palace in 
 need of repair, pulled it down, and began to 
 erect a new one. Pepys saw the plans, and his 
 frugal soul was shocked at the cost; but only 
 one wing of it was completed during Charles's 
 sovereignty. One of the good things for which 
 we are grateful to Charles was the planning 
 and planting of the one hundred and eighty- 
 eight acres that constitute Greenwich Park. 
 Summoned from his continental labors was 
 the great landscape gardener, Le Notre, whose 
 skill is still exemplified in the parks of Ver- 
 sailles, Chantilly, Meudon, Saint-Cloud, Fon- 
 tainebleau, St. Germain-en-Laye, and Sceaux 
 in France ; in Rome, the Vatican Gardens, the 
 Quirinal, Villa Albani, Villa Ludovisi, and 
 Villa Doria Pamphili; in London, St. James 
 and Kensington. 
 
 Diana gasped when we read this list : " What 
 a record ! Any one would have been enough to 
 make him famous. And I never heard his 
 name until now ! " 
 
 A still greater achievement, however, helps 
 to balance Charles's account with England. 
 Since the Ptolemies astronomical observations 
 of importance had been made not only by su- 
 
324 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 perstitious shepherds, but by studious men. 
 The Greeks and Arabs were more assiduous for 
 many years than others. At length the neces- 
 sity for an observatory was felt and to a Dane, 
 Tycho Brahe, is due the distinction of having 
 constructed the first one (in 1576 on the island 
 of Hveen near Copenhagen). He called it 
 " Uranienborg " (city of the heavens) . Then 
 England began to awaken. The news that Sir 
 J. JMoore proposed erecting at his own expense 
 an observatory at Chelsea came to Charles's 
 ears ; and as he then had Greenwich " on the 
 brain " he straightway commanded that one be 
 placed on a certain hill in Greenwich Park, 
 which would lift the celestial observer a hun- 
 dred and eighty feet nearer the stars. The 
 first " astronomcial observator," Flamsteed, of 
 Denby in Derbyshire, had already proved his 
 fitness for the position in a notable book: " The 
 True and Apparent Places of the Planets 
 when at Their Greatest Distances from the 
 Earth." Flamsteed made his observations 
 from the Queen's House until July, 1676, 
 when the observatory was completed. He was, 
 alas! ill paid and overworked. One hundred 
 pounds a year was his stipend; and he was 
 obliged to supply his own instruments. It was 
 royally decreed that he "apply himself with 
 the most exact care and diligence to rectifying 
 
Greenwich 325 
 
 the tables of the motions of the heavens and the 
 places of the fixed stars in order to find out the 
 much-desired longitude at sea for perfecting 
 the art of navigation." The scope of this ob- 
 servatory has, without deviating from this pol- 
 icy, been so extended as to include photo- 
 graphic and spectroscopic observations of the 
 greatest value to science. Flamsteed was suc- 
 ceeded by a man whose name is more widely 
 known. Edmund Halley was a friend of Sir 
 Isaac Newton, and but for his encouragement 
 the manuscript setting forth Newton's theories 
 regarding falling apples and boiling tea-ket- 
 tles might never have been published. In 1704 
 Halley, after many years of close study on 
 the subject, boldly predicted that a certain 
 comet which had flashed across the heavens 
 twenty years before would reappear after an 
 absence of seventy-six years. He was dead in 
 1758, but the comet which forever bears his 
 name appeared exactly as he had foretold. 
 
 Charles's palace at Greenwich remained in- 
 complete until the time of William and Mary, 
 who, after the great naval victory of La Hogue 
 — England's first defeat of the French since 
 Agincourt — when so many seamen were 
 wounded, it was determined to erect a great 
 naval hospital at Greenwich as a grateful me- 
 morial and also as a means of relief to injured 
 
326 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 or infirm sailors. Sir Christopher Wren gra- 
 tuitously offered his services as architect, and 
 the great hospital arose where Placentia had 
 been. The funds for this undertaking were 
 furnished from many sources. The king gave 
 liberally, as did many of his wealthy subjects; 
 Parliament made certain grants, and fines 
 were imposed with renewed assiduity upon 
 smugglers; a duty of sixpence per month 
 was exacted from all seamen; and when dur- 
 ing the reign of George II the Earl of Der- 
 wentwater was attainted and executed for 
 participating in the rebellion of 1715, his 
 estates were made over to the hospital fund, 
 which amounted to eighteen thousand pounds 
 per annum. At Chatham, Elizabeth had es- 
 tablished a chest, to which all seamen were 
 compelled to contribute from their wages to 
 provide pensions for their disabled fellows; 
 this was transferred to Greenwich Hospital 
 a century after its founding. The hospital 
 was completed in 1705, Evelyn, then Treas- 
 urer of the Navy, having laid the first stone; 
 at which time a hundred disabled seamen 
 were admitted. Three years later the number 
 had increased to three hundred and fifty. The 
 compulsory contributions of seamen in service 
 was remitted in 1834, a yearly appropriation 
 of twenty thousand pounds being substituted 
 
Greenwich 327 
 
 from the endowment. By 1865 the income 
 had reached one hundred and fifty thousand 
 pounds, and the number of pensioners had 
 grown to sixteen hundred. Then an odd thing 
 happened. The beautiful Greek buildings had 
 come to mean to the aged tars what the beau- 
 tiful almshouses in England mean to the aged 
 poor. The governors wisely gave the inmates 
 of the hospital the privilege of voting for its 
 continuance or discontinuance. The noes had 
 it to a man, and now, be their homes never so 
 humble, the pensioners of the Greenwich Hos- 
 pital live with their families, and the charity 
 provides for a far larger number than before, 
 thereby giving us a faint notion of England's 
 sea power. 
 
 These beautiful buildings were vacant for 
 five years; then the Royal Naval College, 
 which had been at Portsmouth, was removed to 
 Greenwich, as were also the School of Naval 
 Architecture and the Naval Museum, Kensing- 
 ton. 
 
 From the park we had seen the Queen's 
 House with its colonnade, so we made it the 
 first object of our afternoon's peregrination. 
 This is now the school in which a thousand boys, 
 sons of seamen, are educated for the navy and 
 for merchant service at the expense of the hos- 
 pital funds. In the yard before the house is 
 
B28 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 a full-sized ship; and as we strolled past, the 
 boys, in their picturesque uniforms, were being 
 drilled in manning the yards. 
 
 Only a small part of the quadrangular group 
 of buildings which constitute the hospital, as 
 it is still called, is shown to visitors. The 
 chapel, which had been rebuilt in recent years 
 after a fire, did not detain us as long as if it had 
 been the original one in which Father Forest 
 and Father Peto preached, and Henry VIII 
 and Elizabeth were baptized. It had been 
 King William's idea to have a statue of his 
 queen in the inner court, but it was never ac- 
 compHshed. This was unfortunate, because, as 
 JNIacaulay says : " Few of those who now gaze 
 on the noblest of European hospitals are aware 
 that it is a memorial of the virtues of the good 
 Queen Mary, of the love and sorrow of Wil- 
 liam, and of the great victory of La Hogue." 
 
 The great painted hall in King William's 
 building was originally the dining hall of the 
 hospital. The depicting on the ceiling of Wil- 
 liam and Mary surrounded by their embodied 
 virtues required of Sir James Thornhill twenty 
 years' work. Truly are the dining halls in 
 England dignified, stately and sumptuous evi- 
 dence of the Englishman's undying distinction 
 between the art of dining and the eating of 
 dinner. From the Charterhouse and Middle 
 
Greenwich 329 
 
 Temple Hall in London, from the lofty pan- 
 eled halls at Cambridge, the refectories in many 
 an ancient abbey and castle, from Windsor and 
 Hampton Court to the hospital at Greenwich, 
 dining is proven to be an almost sacramental 
 event. This Painted Hall at Greenwich is 
 hung with canvases depicting the many vic- 
 tories of the Mistress of the Seas. They are 
 mostly bloody affrays, not pleasant to femi- 
 nine eyes; but we hugely enjoyed some of the 
 groups of little boys and of old salts whose 
 beard-encircled faces reminded us of him who 
 was 
 
 — a cook and a captain bold, 
 
 And the mate of the Nancy brig 
 
 And a bo's'n tight, and a midshipmite, 
 And the crew of the captain's gig. 
 
 The glee of the old sailors was as great as that 
 of the little boys, all of whom were utterly 
 rapt in the scenes they studied so minutely. Of 
 Lord Nelson we were reminded when we saw 
 the portrait of him, a copy of that by Hoppner. 
 We had not known that a whole room in this 
 building was devoted to relics of this, Eng- 
 land's greatest admiral. Infinitely more thrill- 
 ing than the battle scenes in the Painted Hall 
 which depicted him in many engagements were 
 the simple personal belongings of the man. 
 
330 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 There was the tiny coat which he had worn 
 at Trafalgar when he was shot. Its sleeve was 
 small enough for a boy of twelve years. There 
 was the sword which was placed beside his body 
 when it was lying in state in the Painted Hall, 
 before being borne up the Thames to the ad- 
 miralty in London. His ea^ libris even Diana, 
 the collector, looked upon with misty eyes and 
 a heart free from covetousness. Saddest of all 
 the sad and tender memorials in this room was 
 the original letter he had written on board the 
 Victory, beseeching the English nation to be 
 kind to Lady Hamilton wlio had been instru- 
 mental in obtaining information which had 
 more than once enabled him to win great vic- 
 tories for England. This great-hearted little 
 fighter, as tender as he was stern, had not re- 
 ceived the Churcli's sanction to his marriage 
 with Emma Hamilton, — who surely in the eyes 
 of God was his beloved wife, — had not realized 
 how much bitter obloquy English society can 
 visit upon a woman whose unlegalized love is 
 made known. 
 
 We were silent as we descended into the 
 quadrangle again and went on to Queen Mary's 
 building, which is used as a museum for ship 
 models of all sorts and kinds, interesting even 
 to us who had no technical knowledge of their 
 merits. The great, battered black iron Chat- 
 
50 
 
 3 
 
Greenwich 831 
 
 ham Chest, whose mission is now, happily, only 
 reminiscent, we really coveted. 
 
 " I feel," said Sonia, " as though it must be 
 filled at this moment with thousands of pieces 
 of eight and bushels of gold doubloons. 
 Wouldn't it be fun just to run our hands 
 through to the bottom and let the gold coin 
 slip slowly through our fingers, just to hear 
 the delicious chink of it? " 
 
 Passing out of the gate on King William 
 Street a bobby touched his hat courteously. 
 Diana had a mischievous impulse. She knew 
 the answer to her question; but put it never- 
 theless : " Officer, will you kindly tell me wheth- 
 er the next boat for London is due at five- 
 thirty? " 
 
 " There are no steamers to London, Miss. 
 You can take the electric tram " 
 
 " No, thank you. I think," smiling sweetly, 
 " we prefer to return by boat." 
 
 " He must be right," Sonia demurred. 
 " Bobbies always know everything." 
 
 Diana led the way boldly to the pier, where 
 over a little ticket booth was a sign to the effect 
 that return tickets to London might be had for 
 one and six. " Is the next steamer for Lon- 
 don at five-thirty? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss; just eight minutes to wait." 
 
 We waited on the landing, where so many 
 
332 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 royal comings and goings had occurred. Poor 
 King Hal! How different was his reception 
 here of the unprepossessing fourth bride-elect, 
 Anne of Cleves, who came from Rochester by 
 water to her reluctant lord. Of Wolsey's 
 gorgeous approach with yeomen standing upon 
 the sails of his barge we chatted the while we 
 watched some children wading along the 
 shingly beach, or glanced at the line of seamen 
 who sat discussing affairs of international im- 
 portance, as though they had been a special 
 committee of Parliament to determine upon 
 serious measures. Some people went down a 
 stairway and vanished from sight. We were 
 curious and even a trifle alarmed; but we in- 
 vestigated and found the entrance to the tunnel 
 to the Isle of Dogs, where the royal kennels 
 were kept for many years, and which is now 
 wholly given over to shipping. Then our little 
 black steamer glided up to the landing and we 
 returned to London on a river of magic and 
 mystery, flashing here with great shafts of light 
 that burst through heavy clouds, glooming 
 there darkly under the heavy masses of yellow- 
 black vapor. Our last view of Greenwich Hos- 
 pital was the best of all. Then we became ab- 
 sorbed in the fascination of the shipping which 
 extends all the way to London. A P. and O. 
 steamer, just in from the Orient, put us in- 
 
Greenwich 333 
 
 stantly in touch with India, with Rangoon, 
 and Mandalay. And there were steamers from 
 America, from Barbadoes, and from the utter- 
 most parts of the earth, all come to London, 
 the magnet which draws unto itself the richest 
 and best that the lands and looms of all coun- 
 tries produce, to London, the market of the 
 world. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 
 
 JUST why a prominent " Beds " town 
 should take its name from an outlaw and 
 robber who was hated as much as he was feared 
 is difficult to imagine. The town itself is almost 
 as ancient as the Chiltern Hills, which rear 
 their sometimes bald heads near by. Before 
 the Romans constructed that wonderful road 
 from Dover to London and thence to Holy- 
 head, the Britons had aggregated a few of 
 their mud-and-straw huts, and called the ham- 
 let Maes Gwyn, or White Field, because when 
 they dug a stake hole or turned the soil for 
 planting " corn " they found it to be white 
 chalk in many places rather than the rich brown 
 loam prevalent elsewhere. 
 
 The little village was a boon to the Romans, 
 who lost no time in occupying it at the expense 
 
 334 
 
Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 335 
 
 of the natives; for it lay at the junction of two 
 of their greatest military roads — Watling 
 Street and Icknield Way. The Britons had 
 vainly sought in their ignorant simplicity to 
 save their village from the conquerors by sur- 
 rounding it with earthworks. 
 
 After the retirement of the Romans from Al- 
 bion the Danes had their innings ; and to them 
 is largely due the sparsity of Roman buildings. 
 But for their savage lust of fire, blood, and 
 loot, there might be fair temples, arches, col- 
 umns, and colosseii amid the green of rural 
 England to-day. 
 
 Some who have delved into the meager rec- 
 ords of ancient history assert that Dunstable's 
 name is derived from Dunum (hill) and Staple 
 (market) . " In England, formerly, the king's 
 staple was established in certain ports or towns, 
 and certain goods could not be exported with- 
 out first being brought to these ports, to be 
 rated and charged with the duty, payable to 
 the king or public." From this came the pres- 
 ent meaning of " staple " article or commodity. 
 
 In the time of Henry I a bold, bad bandit, 
 whose name was Dun or Dunninge, gathered 
 about him a number of outlaws who so terror- 
 ized this neighborhood that a whole forest was 
 burned down by the king's command in order 
 to exterminate this sort of vermin and bring 
 
336 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 highway knighthood to an end. The meeting 
 of the two great roads in the center of this for- 
 est had given them opportunity in plenty for 
 robbery and murder. The burning of the for- 
 est, however, did not terminate their depreda- 
 tions; of which more anon. To return to the 
 matter of Dunstable's name: In the town is 
 still shown a cellar which is alleged to be the 
 cave used by Dun for stabling his horse and for 
 a place of retirement when justice threatened to 
 overtake him. They tell of a post to which a 
 ring and a staple were attached, that existed 
 in this cave several hundred years after Dun's 
 death. At any rate there are a ring and a sta- 
 ple on the ancient arms of Dunstable; so why 
 question the origin of the town's name? 
 
 Near Dunstable upon the Down, 
 There is an ale-house, and but one ; 
 Not far from hence, if we may credit 
 Some ancient authors that have said it, 
 Erst dwelt, to make the story brief, 
 Old Dun, that memorable thief: 
 Within a hollow, under-ground, 
 Apartments still are to be found, 
 Where both himself and horse retreated, 
 And still all hues and cries defeated. 
 
 Thus wrote Butler, author of the famous 
 " Hudibras." An ancient illuminated manu- 
 
Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 337 
 
 script contained in the church chest portrays 
 a post with pendant ring and staple. There 
 are also preserved these " Verses concerninge 
 the Name and Armes of Dunstaple, 1558." 
 
 By Houghton Regis, there, where Watlinge Streete 
 Is crossed by Icknell way, once grew a wood 
 With bushes thick o'erspread: a coverte meete 
 To harbour such as lay in waite for blood, 
 There lurkte of ruffians bolde an hideous route 
 Whose captaine was one Dunne, of courage stoute. 
 
 No travailer almost coulde passe that way 
 
 But either he was wounded, rob'd, or kil'd 
 
 By that leude crewe, which there in secreete lay: 
 
 With murthers, theftes, and rapes, their hands were 
 
 fil'd, 
 With booties ere they tooke, ech had his share ; 
 Thus yeare by yeare they liv'd without all care. 
 
 At last King Henrie, first king of that name. 
 Toward the northern partes in progresse rode ; 
 And hearing of those great abuses, came 
 Unto the thicket where the theeves abode; 
 Who on the comminge of the king did flie 
 Each to his house, or to his friende did hie. 
 
 Wherefore the kinge such mischiefes to prevent, 
 The woode cut downe ; the waye all open layde 
 That all trew men, which that way rode or wente, 
 Of Sodaine sallyes might be lesse afFrayde; 
 And might descrie theire danger ere it came, 
 And so by wise forseighte escape the same. 
 
338 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 This done, he rear'd a poull both huge and longe 
 In that roade-highway, where so many passe; 
 And in the poull let drive a staple stronge, 
 Whereto the king's own ringe appendant was ; 
 And caused it to be publisht that this thinge 
 Was done to see what thiefe durst steale the ringe. 
 
 Yet for all that, the ringe, was stol'n away, 
 Which, when it came to learned Beauclark's eare, 
 By skylful arte to finde, he did assay 
 Who was the thiefe, and first, within what shyre 
 His dwelHnge was, which this bould act had done, 
 And found it to be Bedffordshire, anon. 
 
 Next in what hundred off that shyre might dwell 
 This vent'rous wighte, Kinge Henrie caste to find ; 
 And upon Mansfield Hundred, straight it fell, 
 Which being founde, he after bent his minde 
 To learn the parish, and by like skyll tride 
 That he in Houghton Regis did abide. 
 
 Lastlie, the parish knowne, he further soughte 
 
 To find the verie house where he remaynde ; 
 
 And by the preceptes of his arte he toughte ; 
 
 That by one widow Dun he was retayned; 
 
 The widowe's house was searched, so wil'd the kinge, 
 
 And with her sonne was founde, staple and ringe. 
 
 Thus Beauclarke by his arte, founde out the thiefe ; 
 
 A lustie tall younge man of courage good, 
 
 Which of the other ruffians was the Chiefe; 
 
 That closlie lurked in that waylesse wood. 
 
 Then Dunne, this captain thiefe, the widowe's sonne, 
 
 Was hanged for the feates which he had donne. 
 
Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 339 
 
 And where the thicket stoode, the kinge did build 
 
 A market towne for saulfetie of all those 
 
 Which travail'd that way, that it might them yielde 
 
 A sure refuge from all thievishe foes ; 
 
 And there king Henrie, of his great bountie, 
 
 Founded a church, a schole, and priorie. 
 
 And for that Dunne, before the woode was downe, 
 
 Had there his haunte, and thence did steale away 
 
 The staple and the ring, thereof the towne 
 
 Is called Dunstaple untill this day ; 
 
 Also in armes, that corporation, 
 
 The staple and the ringe give thereupon. 
 
 To the outlaw the king paid the compliment 
 of building a royal mansion where the splen- 
 did trees had been and issuing a proclamation 
 whereby whosoever would was invited to settle 
 near his new palace, Kingsbury. He also 
 offered low land rents and sundry privileges 
 not elsewhere accorded; as, for instance, a 
 semi-weekly market and a three-day fair at the 
 feast of St. Peter-in-chains. This saint was 
 chosen also for patron of a priory soon after- 
 wards established. It is to be hoped that Dun 
 appreciated the grim humor of all this public 
 acknowledgment of his power. The Bedford- 
 shire bugaboo was yet to be conquered. Of him 
 the National Register of Crime records many 
 vivid incidents. 
 
340 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 " His first exploit was on the highway to 
 Bedford, where he met a wagon full of corn 
 going to market, drawn by a beautiful team of 
 horses. He accosted the driver, and in the 
 middle of the conversation stabbed him to the 
 heart with a dagger which he always carried 
 with him. He buried the body, and mounting 
 the wagon, proceeded to the town, where he 
 sold all off and decamped with the money. One 
 day, having heard that some la^\yers were to 
 dine at a certain inn in Bedford, about an hour 
 before the appointed time he came running to 
 the inn, and desired the landlord to hurry the 
 dinner, and to have enough ready for ten or 
 twelve. The company soon arrived and the 
 lawyers thought Dun a servant of the house, 
 while those of the house supposed him to be 
 an attendant of the lawyers. He bustled about, 
 and the bill being called for, he collected it; 
 and having some change to return to the com- 
 pany, they waited for his return; but growing 
 weary they rang the bell and inquired for their 
 money, when they discovered him to be an im- 
 postor." After many exploits, less clever and 
 more outrageous than that of the lawyers' ban- 
 quet. Dun and his band became such a source 
 of terror that the sheriff of Bedford sent a posse 
 to attack him in one of his retreats; but the 
 sheriff was too economical of men, and the rob- 
 
The gateway is all ihat remains of the old Priory. 
 
Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 341 
 
 bers completely routed the emissaries of jus- 
 tice, taking eleven of them prisoners and swing- 
 ing them on near-by trees as a warning to 
 other ambitious sheriffs. These men should 
 have been made cabinet ministers, so deft was 
 their ability to cope with any situation. Attired 
 in the garb of the sheriff's men whom they had 
 hanged. Dun and his fellows proceeded to the 
 castle of one of the county nobility, and in the 
 king's name demanded admission in order to 
 seek for that renegade, Dun. After searching 
 throughout the house keys of trunks and ward- 
 robes were demanded and the merry band took 
 all they could carry of plate and jewelry. The 
 irate nobleman complained to Parliament, and 
 doubtless wrote a letter to the Times, or its 
 predecessor, and after the official wheels had 
 turned far enough it was discovered that the 
 trick was, indeed, not due to the defection of 
 the county constabulary. The countryside at 
 last ran Dun to earth, surrounded his place of 
 concealment, and posted its two staunchest 
 men at the door. Again too much economy. 
 Dun's swift blade killed them both, and while 
 the smocked ones were realizing this, he bridled 
 his horse and forced his way through them. 
 Then the farmers bethought them of pitch- 
 forks, rakes and hoes ; and by some accident they 
 caught up with him and dragged him from the 
 
342 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 saddle. But he clambered up again and cut a 
 way through the crowd with his sword. It 
 was like a " moving-picture " show. Again he 
 was pursued, unseated, and led them a chase of 
 two miles afoot. Coming to a river, he stripped 
 off his clothes, and carrying his sword between 
 his teeth swam toward the opposite bank, which 
 he found to be thronged with his pursuers. A 
 number of boats were pressed into service, and 
 he repeatedly fought off the blows of impend- 
 ing oars; but a successful blow on the head 
 from one of them caused a syncope. Magnani- 
 mously they bore him to a surgeon, before tak- 
 ing him before the magistrate, who sent him to 
 jail under strong guard. They waited for him 
 to recuperate somewhat, and then he was led to 
 the Bedford Market Place, where the execu- 
 tioners awaited. Nine times Dun felled these 
 two, and the populace had rare and thrilling 
 entertainment. When the offender was at last 
 overcome vengeance in the king's name fol- 
 lowed apace. They hacked off his hands at 
 the wrist and his arms at elbow and shoulder. 
 They seemed fearful lest he might not yet be 
 dead; and so the entire body was cut up into 
 little bits, the head burned, and the other por- 
 tions " fixed up " in various places, triumph- 
 antly asserting that the arm of justice was 
 mighty, if a bit thick-headed and slow. 
 
Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 343 
 
 In a history of Dunstable, Mr. Derbyshire 
 (of Bedfordshire) tells graphically of Dun's 
 exploits and end. 
 
 Now that the neighborhood nightmare was 
 no longer to be feared, the colonizing of this 
 part of the county, at the king's invitation, pro- 
 ceeded apace. A priory of black canons was 
 founded in honor of St. Peter, to which was 
 granted the rents from the town of Dunstable 
 and all rights and privileges of this town, ex- 
 cepting only his palace. 
 
 " It would seem," said Sonia, " that even a 
 pre-Plantaganet king could have foreseen 
 trouble between town and monastery; but 
 kings in those days took little thought for the 
 morrow. The line of least resistance was 
 theirs." 
 
 This first Henry, however, felt a genuine 
 interest in the town of Dunstable whither he 
 came several times with his vast retinue for 
 Yuletide festivities and other. And here came 
 Henry, Duke of Normandy, to be promised 
 by King Stephen the throne of England. 
 
 " Old Lackland, the pennywise," laughed 
 Diana, " did not like Kingsbury Palace, so he 
 granted it and its garden to the priory, stipu- 
 lating that he be gratuitously entertained 
 whensoever he chose to visit there. Was not 
 he a magnanimous old dog? " 
 
344 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 We were sitting in the shady courtyard of 
 the Red Lion, waiting for luncheon to be pre- 
 pared. The inn's genial proprietor, over whom 
 apoplexy hea\Tly hung, had shown us the room 
 just above where we now were resting in which 
 Charles I had slept on his way to the battle 
 of Xaseby. Perceiving our interest he showed 
 us also an old tapestry of wondrous Gobelin- 
 like blue, and his many little treasures of porce- 
 lain, of silver, and of rosewood the while he 
 confided to us his pride in his only son, who 
 had gone into the world to make a mark and 
 a fortune. His wife being an invahd, mine 
 host himself attended to the preparation of 
 luncheon, having told us where we could pro- 
 cure local histories and arms china. 
 
 Sonia stroked a sleek cat as she read. Diana 
 now and then interrupted her researches by 
 stooping to caress a somnolent fox terrier who 
 had assumed the host's duties to the Red Lion's 
 guests. 
 
 "How interesting!" exclaimed Sonia after 
 a long silence. " We must go to the church 
 and see if they ^ill show it to us." 
 
 " Show what? The church? Perhaps it is 
 big enough to show itself." 
 
 " No ! the pall. Listen ! Once upon a time 
 there was in connection ^\dth the Dunstable 
 church a fraternity of John the Baptist. Early 
 
Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 345 
 
 in the sixteenth century there was presented to 
 the fraternity by Henry Fayrey and Agnes, his 
 wife, a curiously WTOught altar cloth. Here 
 is what an ancient document savs of it : ' It is 
 made of the richest crimson and gold brocade 
 imaginable, and so exquisitely and curiously 
 wrought that it puzzles the greatest artists 
 of weaving now living to so much as guess at 
 the manner of its performance. It is six feet 
 four inches long by two feet two inches broad, 
 from whence hangs down a border of purple 
 velvet thirteen inches deep, whereon is lively 
 and most richly worked with a needle St. John 
 the Baptist between fourteen men and women; 
 under the foremost is ^vi-itten Henry FajTcy 
 and Agnes Fayrey, between the arms of the 
 mercers. Viz. — 
 
 " ' G a demi virgin with her hair dishevelled, 
 crowned, issuing out (and wdthin an orte) of 
 clouds, all proper, A on a f ess comssone B and 
 G 3 annulets O between six crosses bottone S. 
 
 " ' The haberdashers arms. Barry nebule of 
 6 A and B on a bend C a lion passant quad- 
 rant O. 
 
 " ' And on a shield part}" per pale O and B 
 a chevron between three eagles displayed coun- 
 terchanged, as many lozenges 
 
 By this time we were laughing so heartily 
 that the fox terrier set up a loud barking, eye- 
 
346 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 ing us with some suspicion, and the cheery land- 
 lord peeped out of the kitchen, smiling in sym- 
 pathy with our happiness. Sonia insisted upon 
 finishing the description. " ' Thus are the 
 sides ; but at the ends is only St. Jolm between 
 a gentleman and his wife.' " 
 
 " I would not have believed St. John capable 
 of coming between a gentleman and his wife," 
 said Diana, refusing to become serious again. 
 
 Nearly two centuries ago the beautiful cloth 
 vanished, and none knew what had become of 
 it until 1867, when a clergyman in Suffolk, who 
 had received it as security for money loaned 
 to a fellpw cleric thirty years previously, was 
 led by a study of its decoration to believe that 
 originally it had been made for some Bedford- 
 shire monastery. The fellow cleric had died, 
 and as he left no heirs the Suffolk dominie did 
 not know what to do with the cloth. Corre- 
 spondence elicited the fact that this was the 
 long-lost pall of crimson, which was presum- 
 ably taken from the church at Dunstable along 
 with other loot at the time of the monastery's 
 suppression. 
 
 It was at Dunstable in 1224 that Fawkes de 
 Brent, a notoriously criminal " gentleman," 
 was fined by the king's justices for outrageous 
 and lawless conduct upon many occasions. He 
 was a sort of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and when 
 
Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 347 
 
 news was brought him of the justices' ruling he 
 sent a company of his adherents to Dunstable, 
 giving them order to seize at least one of the 
 judges and conduct him without undue cere- 
 mony to his castle at Bedford. To Henry de 
 Braybroke fell the ignominy of being hauled 
 to De Brent's stronghold. When the king 
 heard of it he came with several of his lords 
 and Stephen Langton to storm the castle. An 
 old chronicle describes this siege at length in 
 such detail as would delight our modern school- 
 boys. It was Scott to the life, with its man- 
 gonels, its barbicans, its falling towers, and its 
 final fire. The beautiful Rebecca alone was 
 lacking to give romance to the fray. Fawkes 
 was not taken, despite the royal tactics; but 
 eventually he obtained pardon on condition 
 that he exile himself henceforth from England. 
 Like the lay fraternities at St. Albans and 
 some other monasteries, this of St. John at 
 Dunstable admitted wealthy and distinguished 
 members to whom promise of prayers for their 
 salvation before, during, and after death gently 
 suggested the piety and all-round advisability 
 of making to the priory generous offerings, 
 which — so far as our knowledge extends — were 
 never refused by the good brothers, as pos- 
 sessing ptomaine possibilities. Lord Alan de 
 Hyde and Alice, his wife, were to this fraternity 
 
348 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 very much as Duke Humphrey and Jacquehne 
 were to that of St. Albans — a source of rich 
 revenue. ^ 
 
 Henry III and his queen, Eleanor of Pro- 
 vence, with their children enjoyed the convent's 
 hospitality on several occasions. At one of 
 these visits their majesties were presented with 
 a golden cup and the little prince and princess 
 received each a gold buckle from the prior. 
 Needless is it to add that the royalties upon all 
 such visits made costly offerings to the insti- 
 tution. Once they were accompanied by a 
 papal legate. Cardinal Attaboni, and Simon de 
 Montfort, who was Attaboni's brother-in-law. 
 Again Henry brought Richard, King of Ger- 
 many. 
 
 A Chere Heine Cross was erected in the mar- 
 ket place at Dunstable by Edward I, whose 
 dead queen rested a night at the priory on the 
 long way to London. For the monastery's 
 hospitality, the king gave to the prior two rich 
 cloths (bawdekyns) and a hundred and twenty 
 pounds of wax. The cross was destroyed by 
 sportive soldiers in command of the Earl of 
 Essex during the time of Charles I, while 
 marching, no doubt, to Naseby. This same 
 Edward, who had erected the cross and who was 
 both thoughtful and generous, could at times 
 be royally inconsiderate. He once made a long 
 
Like a slender white arrow the great Roman road pointed northward. 
 
Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 349 
 
 stay, accompanied by his retinue, at St. Albans 
 and at Abbots' Langley near by. In order to 
 feed so unaccustomed a house party the market 
 at Dunstable was obliged to supply butter, 
 cheese, eggs, and so forth ad libitum, with- 
 out remuneration — that went to the already 
 unjustly rich abbey — and the townsfolk 
 of Dunstable, whose purses were ready 
 to pay for their purchases, found nought 
 to buy. 
 
 At the psychological moment when Wat 
 Tyler's rebellion and simultaneously a dozen 
 others began, one Thomas Hobbes, then Mayor 
 of Dunstable, boldly led his burgesses to the 
 priory and demanded a charter of liberties. It 
 was granted after much ado; but, of course, 
 when things had settled down again the prior 
 revoked the charter under plea of having been 
 coerced. 
 
 " It was in the chapel of Our Lady in the 
 Dunstable church," said our host, who chatted 
 with us while we ate mutton chops and fresh 
 peas, " that Archbishop Cranmer proclaimed 
 the marriage of Henry and Catherine to have 
 been only de facto and not de jure, and conse- 
 quently null from the beginning." The queen 
 was at Ampthill, a few miles away, awaiting 
 the decision quite as eagerly as did at Green- 
 wich her former maid of honor. 
 
850 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 The Archbishop 
 Of Canterbury, accompanied with other 
 Learned and reverend fathers of his order, 
 Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off 
 From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which 
 She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not : 
 And, to be short, for not-appearance and 
 The king's late scruple, by the main assent 
 Of all these learned men she was divorc'd, 
 And the late marriage made of none effect: 
 Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton, 
 Where she remains now, sick. 
 
 At Kimbolton she remained until death re- 
 leased her less than three years afterwards. 
 Even in death was she thwarted. Her will 
 requested that she be buried in a convent of the 
 Observants, who had ever been faithful to her 
 interests; but the king caused her body to be 
 placed in the abbey church at Peterborough. 
 
 Elizabeth's journey ings between London 
 and Warwick took her through Dunstable. 
 She was the last royal visitor in the town 
 until 1841, when Queen Victoria and Prince 
 Albert stopped at the Sugar Loaf en route 
 to Woburn Abbey for a visit to the Duke of 
 Bedford. 
 
 We had engaged a team to drive us as far as 
 Fenny Stratford, about twelve miles beyond 
 Dunstable on the Watling Street. Before 
 
Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 351 
 
 starting, however, we went to see the church, 
 whose conglomerate architecture is as amusing 
 as it is starthng. We peeped in at its fine Nor- 
 man bays and walked about in quest of some- 
 thing human and authoritative to show us the 
 church chest, with its precious old documents, 
 and the pall of crimson velvet; but we were 
 alone among the myriad monuments to 
 dead and gone Chews. Sunk in the middle 
 aisle is a slab to the memory of a wo- 
 man who had three times three children and 
 twice five. 
 
 " I wonder how long she lived after the sec- 
 ond quintet? " Diana said; " she ought to have 
 had a mausoleum on the summit of a hill where 
 race suicides most do congregate." 
 
 The gateway is all that remains of the old 
 priory, save a few beams in a straw factory 
 within the inclosure to which the gate presum- 
 ably opens. Straw factories have to be; but 
 what a pity that this one could not have occu- 
 pied the halls of the monastery, and all the 
 beauty of which the gateway suggests much, 
 might serve not only as an advertisement to 
 the manufacturer, but as an aesthetic blending 
 of past idleness with present industry. 
 
 A few market booths stood where many Lol- 
 lards had been burned and where William Tils- 
 worth, during the reign of the seventh Henry, 
 
352 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 was, for the simple offense of advising people 
 to read the Bible in English, condemned by the 
 Bishop of Lincoln to be executed, his sinless 
 daughter being compelled to light his pyre. 
 
 " I hope," Diana said, " there is somewhere 
 a list of the men and women whose lives have 
 been more cruel than death, who have played 
 the game bravely and patiently from start to 
 finish! A peculiar supercanonization is due 
 them." 
 
 An uncompromising lamp-post now arro- 
 gantly occupies the spot where the fair Elea- 
 nor cross stood to be martyred in revolutionary 
 times. 
 
 " The marvel is," Sonia mused, " not that 
 lamp-posts and straw factories exist, but that 
 any of the old stones should yet remain one 
 upon another, so many times in the history of 
 this land have lawlessness and lust for destruc- 
 tion been given free rein." 
 
 Our host at the Red Lion recommended 
 that we drive up on the Downs before pro- 
 ceeding northward. 
 
 " Our language as spoken by the English 
 retains strong traces of its Teutonic ancestry. 
 We go up on the Downs; we come out of an 
 inn ; certain trains ' stop to set down, but not 
 to take up,' and the prefix that in German we 
 have to hold in our hand until the end of the 
 
Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 353 
 
 sentence whereon we can hang it comes; an, 
 aufy hinter, nehen, hin " 
 
 Sonia, always ready for a laugh, unduly en- 
 couraged her friend's lingual fldnerie; but 
 along came a sturdy cob harnessed to the 
 " wagon " we had bespoken. We bade a cor- 
 dial good-by to our host, drove under Charles 
 I's chamber, and proceeded up on the Downs. 
 The intense whiteness of the chalk showing 
 here and there amid the flower-studded grass 
 was a novelty to us, who had never seen the 
 Shakspeare Cliff at Dover. Some interesting 
 remains we saw of British earthworks; and 
 from the top of the Downs the town spread 
 pleasantly among broad fields. 
 
 Like a slender white arrow the great Roman 
 road pointed northward as we rumbled along 
 toward Fenny Stratford — the second Strat- 
 ford of our acquaintance, and we had not yet 
 been to that on the Avon. There was no dust 
 and the steps of our steed rang rhythmically 
 on the flint. We marveled at meeting so few 
 motors on so perfect a highway. A deep cut- 
 ting in the chalk just beyond Dunstable had 
 been made to level a hill. The broad rolling 
 landscape beyond it was animated here and 
 there by farm life. The farmhouses and barns 
 nearly all had what Diana captioned " long- 
 haired roofs." Sometimes we mistook hay- 
 
354 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 ricks for houses, so similar were they in color, 
 shape and size. " The only difference," de- 
 clared Sonia, " is that the houses sometimes 
 have chimneys and windows." 
 
 " What a pity," sighed Diana, *' that we 
 did not come a century ago by stage coach 
 on this Great North Road! We might have 
 traveled from London to Chester for forty 
 shillings and have enjoyed eight days like 
 this, just driving comfortably along a fine 
 road." 
 
 " I think I should even like to have been a 
 British maiden, peeping from the forest at the 
 army of Csesar or Suetonius, glittering with 
 polished helmets and spears, flashing gay col- 
 ors and sounding like the rustling of a mighty 
 forest as the legions of infantry marched, or, 
 with its chariots and battering rams drawn by 
 splendidly caparisoned Roman horses, rum- 
 bling like a summer storm. I wish the world 
 had not turned quite so fast ! " 
 
 Some of the old posting inns still remain 
 beside the way; but they have fallen into de- 
 crepitude and instead of bustling postboys 
 and unctuous host, the proprietor now tilts 
 back against the wall in a kitchen chair, watch- 
 ing the motors dart past or taking an afternoon 
 nap. 
 
 Brickhill Church, high above the road, has a 
 
The deep red of a bridge took on a deeper tone in its 
 
 mirror, the canal. 
 
Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 355 
 
 fine tower. A long gradual climb brought us 
 to the top of a hill from which the view should 
 have been immortalized by Constable, Gains- 
 borough, old Crome, or our own compatriot, 
 George Inness. At the base of this hill the 
 Roman road is lost in the curve of a modern 
 one; but the straight line which proclaims the 
 ancient highway is recovered about a mile 
 south of Fennv Stratford. 
 
 At the Swan in this village we were hos- 
 pitably received, almost as though we had been 
 here before. Tea was serv^ed to us "vvith home- 
 made gooseberry jam and a great plate of but- 
 tered bread. Phyllis, the pretty daughter of 
 the landlord and his ladv, hovered near to an- 
 ticipate and supply our needs. Afterwards 
 she showed us her garden, sweet with lavender 
 and rosemary, and gay ^vith hollyhocks and 
 larkspur. We had little time before the " fly " 
 should come to drive us to the railway station ; 
 but thanks to the sweet and gracious PhylHs, 
 who escorted us, we had a walk tlirough the 
 lush meadows and along the canal, which is 
 here, as elsewhere in England, beautiful as a 
 river and at this time was free from traffic, 
 although that could not have detracted from 
 its charm in the late afternoon. Long shadows 
 were athwart the fields, thrown by the low, 
 ruddy sun ; the deep red of a bridge took on a 
 
356 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 still deeper tone in its mirror, the canal. The 
 soft air and circling swallows evoked in us at 
 once a sense of peace and of irritation, since 
 we must leave it all at this hour of subtle en- 
 chantment and return again to London. 
 

 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 Canterbury 
 
 SINCE Geoffrey Chaucer wrote of Canter- 
 bury, so many books have appeared, so 
 many lectures have been given, and so many 
 highly colored tales have we heard from travel- 
 ers, that this humble pen falters when rush- 
 ing in where the prerogative is, as it were, 
 angelic. Yet unless one has seen Canterbury 
 what avails aught that has been written, pic- 
 tured, or said ? 
 
 Many weeks had wafted away since the wild 
 iris had challenged us to fare forth from Lon- 
 don into England. Our days had been widely 
 diversified, but invariably full of pleasure and 
 — we believed — of profit. There seemed, 
 moreover, no prospect of exhausting the possi- 
 bilities for day trips; and now the time had 
 come when all social " obligations " had been 
 
 357 
 
358 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 " satisfied," when London was uncomfortably 
 hot, and the West End had begun to look ac- 
 tually empty. Our friends were leaving town, 
 and at length we determined upon seeing some 
 of the places we had deemed indispensable 
 when, midway across the sea, our summer of 
 travel in Great Britain was being planned. 
 The Norfolk Broads now being our bourne 
 and but one more day flight from London left 
 to us, the pros and cons of Haslemere, Tun- 
 bridge Wells, and Canterbury were seriously 
 discussed. A coin could not be " flipped " 
 for a choice of three places, so we drew 
 lots and Canterbury, to our mutual satisfac- 
 tion, won. 
 
 At first we were a little disheartened, for in 
 our ears rang remembered rhapsodies of 
 friends: " The quaintest old town! " " the most 
 primitive place you ever saw!" "absolutely 
 unspoiled by modern innovations! " We had 
 entered the station 'bus of the Royal Fountain 
 Hotel, knowing by experience that the greatest 
 economy of time, energy, and errors in direc- 
 tion is attained by driving from the railway to 
 the center of a town. We passed under the 
 West Gate which had been postcardally known 
 to us for years. But for this the city of Can- 
 terbury was, as we saw it thus far, wholly 
 modern and unprepossessing. 
 
We spied the Cathedral beyond Mercery Lane. 
 
Canterbury 359 
 
 American automobiles were everywhere, 
 their occupants displaying a singular lack of 
 manners. We had encountered but few of our 
 compatriots during the summer; and now we 
 were very much ashamed of ourselves for wish- 
 ing to shun these loud-voiced and money-pro- 
 claiming neighbors. We were glared at as we 
 passed through the hotel corridors; groups of 
 them blockaded the street door; and we heard 
 them lauding everything American from cock- 
 tails to carbureters, and criticising everything 
 English as old fogy and behind the times. 
 Nothing, however, but Canterbury herself 
 could have marred our day; and the charm of 
 Canterbury became ineffable once we accepted 
 the modernity her buildings of necessity ex- 
 pressed. This very condition merely served to 
 heighten the effect of her many reminders of 
 ancient past. 
 
 The cathedral was, naturally, our first quest. 
 From the door of our hotel we spied it beyond 
 the narrow Mercery Lane, over which leaned 
 an old white house whose vv^indows gave it a 
 grotesque expression as of a mild monster 
 guarding vast treasure. This proved to be the 
 famous Chequers Inn. 
 
 The beautiful west front was, alas! done up 
 in splints and we were informed by a guide 
 who wished to conduct us about the town and 
 
360 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 cathedral just how many thousand pounds 
 " westerhng " the scaffolding had cost. 
 
 " I am afraid," said Diana, patiently smil- 
 ing, " this interests us less than the cathedral's 
 fa9ade. Thank you very much! we shall not 
 require a guide." He stood open-mouthed and 
 silent at having encountered Americans who 
 were not interested in money. 
 
 The great nave was vibrant with organ tones 
 as we entered ; and a service was beginning in 
 " the glorious choir of Conrad." The rich roll 
 of the organ, the clear boyish voices, and a 
 deeper one intoning prayers, served to put 
 us in perfect harmony with the splendid 
 vastness of the edifice. We were too far 
 from the worshippers to participate in the 
 service ; so we allowed our thoughts to wander 
 freelv. 
 
 Becket ! 
 
 This is the dominant, the predominating 
 stimulus to reverie and to memory in Canter- 
 bury Cathedral. The service concluded, on 
 payment of the sixpence requisite in English 
 cathedrals for seeing the choir and apse, and 
 on signing our names in the visitors' book, we 
 were admitted beyond the gates with a troop 
 of English and American tourists and con- 
 ducted by a verger past the many chapels of 
 wondrous beauty and tombs of deepest human 
 
Canterbury 361 
 
 interest. As we became aware of the great 
 names on the monuments Sonia said: 
 
 " It seems to me that all the folk who were 
 not buried in Westminster are here. Dunstan, 
 Stephen Langton, Henry IV, the Black Prince 
 — what tremendous epochs of history we are 
 touching simultaneously ! " 
 
 " The kings are in the Abbey, their prime 
 ministers here," whispered Diana. " Lan- 
 franc, Anselm, Simon of Sudbury; and this 
 broken effigy of Hubert Walter takes us to 
 Acre with Richard Plantagenet.'* 
 
 Of the Black Prince we mused while the va- 
 cant voice of the verger at the head of the 
 " party " droned its rote. What had the for- 
 tunes of Crecy been but for the rain that sof- 
 tened the bowstrings of France's Genoese mer- 
 cenaries? How much sooner had a French 
 king ruled o'er Britain? " Let him win his 
 spurs I" the Enghsh king had cried, proudly 
 watching his sixteen-year-old son until the lad's 
 efforts gave England the day. Then before 
 the whole army, Edward, for the moment more 
 father than king, embraced the boy and said: 
 '* Sweet son, God give you good perseverance; 
 you are my true son — right royally you have 
 acquitted yourself this day, and you are worthy 
 of a crown." Ten years later came Poitiers, 
 another decade and Najara, the zenith of the 
 
362 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 young knight's career; and at the conclusion of 
 yet another the flower of EngHsh chivalry died 
 — ignominiously, no doubt it seemed to such a 
 warrior — in his bed. 
 
 " Now, if somebody had stabbed him in the 
 back, I suppose there would have been another 
 English saint in the calendar," murmured 
 Diana. 
 
 " The funeral procession that bore his body 
 from Westminster Abbey, where it had lain in 
 state nearly four months, proclaimed the grief 
 of the whole nation for the loss of an almost 
 idolized prince. Twelve black horses drew the 
 hearse, and behind it came both houses of Par- 
 liament in deep mourning — a fitting finale to 
 the career of le Prince Noir. Why has none 
 written of what was said and done on that Can- 
 terbury pilgrimage? 
 
 John of Gaunt and William of Wykeham 
 stood among the mourners in the flare of the 
 mortuary candles before the high altar of the 
 cathedral, as did also Archbishop Simon of 
 Sudbury, little knowing that he was destined 
 to be beheaded by Wat Tyler on Tower Hill in 
 London and that the next funeral of impor- 
 tance to be celebrated before this altar would 
 be his own ! 
 
 They had respected the prince's wish that he 
 be interred in Canterbury Cathedral; but the 
 
Canterbury 363 
 
 center of the crypt which he had chosen for a 
 resting place was not deemed worthy the na- 
 tion's hero, and therefore this splendid tomb 
 was placed near the shrine of St. Thomas 
 where all pilgrims might see it. The gilding 
 and color that once richly adorned it can now 
 be only imagined; and the gauntlets, shield, 
 scabbard, and coat pendant for hundreds of 
 years above his efiigy have lost all character 
 and suggestiveness. Where — oh, where are the 
 gold spurs so splendidly won at Crecy? All 
 the evil that he did was interred with the bones 
 of gallant Prince Edward. The good alone 
 lives after him, as is often the case; though a 
 difference of opinion with the author of the 
 plays Lord Verulam did not write is reluctant- 
 ly and apologetically expressed. It is interest- 
 ing to note that Welsh antiquaries consider ich 
 dien, which has been the motto of the Prince 
 of Wales since then, to be a Celtic synonym for 
 ecce homo; for when his infant son was pre- 
 sented to the people of his patronymic the 
 Black Prince had used it as meaning : " Be- 
 hold the man ! " 
 
 The little inclosure known as the " Martyr- 
 dom " was so incarnate to Sonia with memories 
 of Irving's acting and of Tennyson's drama, 
 " Becket," that she with difficulty restrained 
 the emotions that welled up in this very theater 
 
364 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 of that bloody deed. Diana knew somewhat of 
 Becket's chiaro'scuro pubhc career, with its 
 dazzling brilliancy, its hyper-austerity despite 
 the indomitable pride that was the cause of his 
 undoing; and therefore we stood aside while 
 the guide babbled and the trippers gawped 
 over the little square in the paving left by the 
 stone of marytrdom which was sent to Rome. 
 We tried not to think hardly of the four " gen- 
 tlemen " who believed they were serving their 
 king — because he had querulously cried, " Will 
 no one rid me of this man? " — by hacking 
 England's primate to death as he knelt un- 
 armed and unresisting, after that one fiercely 
 human attack on his murderers. We tried to 
 forget the torn scalp, the brains and blood scat- 
 tered on the floor, by thinking of the people 
 who thought the blood precious. Then we pic- 
 tured that awesome scene in the choir when the 
 hair shirt, writhing with vermin, and the great 
 welts across the back from the daily meed of 
 *' stripes," were discovered — grimly humorous 
 evidences of eligibility for canonization. The 
 verger then conducted us down to the crypt 
 and we saw in fancy Henry's late repentance 
 for that Berserker-Plantagenet rage with his 
 once dear friend. 
 
 The Black Prince is only known to have 
 been once in Canterbury; but the impression 
 
Canterbury 365 
 
 it made was deep in his memory. A little me- 
 morial chapel in the crypt bears his name. 
 This was a tribute to his marriage with his 
 cousin Joan, the Fair Maid of Kent. Two 
 priests were appointed to pray here for his soul 
 until death and after. 
 
 "Why did they not pray for Joan, too?" 
 queried Sonia. 
 
 This little chapel is now the vestibule to the 
 chapel of the French congregation, the na- 
 tion so closely associated with his life. To 
 the Chapter of Canterbury he gave in ex- 
 change for permission to found this chapel 
 the manor of Fawke's Hall. Of " Fawke " 
 we know nothing; but his name shall live 
 as long as London endures, in Vauoc- 
 
 hall. 
 
 Becket's murder "made" Canterbury, ca- 
 thedral and city, and dimmed forever the glory 
 of the Augustinian monastery. It also out- 
 shone St. Etheldreda's at Ely and other popu- 
 lar shrines, as, for instance, St. Edmund's and 
 St. Alban's. The shrine of St. Thomas of 
 Canterbury became a devotional and nomadic 
 fashion ; and subshrines bearing his name were 
 erected at Lyons, Sens, and St. Lo, and even 
 in Syria. In Great Britain were innumerable 
 " branch " shrines as well as the great one at 
 Canterbury. Each displayed a treasured boot, 
 
366 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 drinking cup, drop of blood, girdle, or bit of 
 cloth from a garment that had been his. The 
 shrine at Canterbury was in the form of a chest, 
 studded with iron nails and secured by strong 
 iron locks. This was inclosed in a sort of casket 
 made of wood heavily overlaid with gold, 
 " damasked with gold wire and embossed with 
 innumerable pearls, jewels, and rings, cramped 
 together on this gold ground." This was con- 
 cealed in turn under a wooden cover whose sides 
 were painted with suitable subjects. When 
 the pilgrims had made their slow circuit of the 
 cathedral and crypt, pausing times without 
 number to salute with their lips relics inclosed 
 in coffers of gold, silver, or ivory, for those 
 who were sufficiently privileged the outer cover 
 of the shrine was lifted by a rope from above. 
 The knees which had hitched the pilgrims up 
 many steps were again called into requisition 
 as silver bells proclaimed throughout the build- 
 ing the fact that the precious shrine was un- 
 covered. A rare few were permitted to mount 
 a ladder and peep at the inner iron chest. 
 While the votaries remained kneeling and 
 open-mouthed at such glitter as their simple 
 lives could not supply, a factotum with a taper- 
 ing white wand pointed out to them the jewels, 
 naming the givers of each and the cost. Diana 
 says she knows the guide whom we encoun- 
 
Canterbury 367 
 
 tered outside the cathedral is a lineal descendant 
 of one of these " demonstrators." 
 
 The holy relics each man with his mouth 
 
 Kissed as a goodly monk the names told and taught. 
 
 " Fancy kissing the broken sword with which 
 Le Bret did his dreadful deed! " 
 
 " I am glad the hair shirt was hung up and 
 not proffered to the lips of the worshippers. I 
 wonder if it had been fumigated? " 
 
 We liked the story of the white carbuncle, 
 as large as a hen's Qgg, which had been unlaw- 
 fully " annexed " by the saint from a French 
 king, Louis VII, as he knelt before the shrine. 
 
 " The king had come thither to discharge 
 a vow made in battle, and knelt at the shrine 
 with the stone set in a ring on his finger." 
 
 " Fancy wearing a hen's egg on one finger! 
 He must have had a Brobdignagian hand." 
 
 The archbishop, who was present, coveted 
 the jewel — for the saint — and entreated Louis 
 to present it to the shrine. So costly a gift was 
 too much of a sacrifice for the royal pilgrim, 
 " especially as it insured him good luck in all 
 his enterprises. Still, as a compensation, he of- 
 fered a hundred thousand florins for the better 
 adornment of the shrine. The prunate was 
 fully satisfied " ; but scarcely had the pilgrim's 
 refusal been uttered " when the stone leapt from 
 
368 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 the ring, and fastened itself to the shrine, as 
 if a goldsmith had fixed it there." The unfor- 
 tunate king also left the hundred thousand 
 florins ; and it is presumable that, like Dr. Fos- 
 ter, " he never went there again." The jewel 
 was the bright particular star of the whole col- 
 lection, and was said to have been dazzlingly 
 brilliant by daj^ — so much so that the eye could 
 scarce endure its rays — and at night it put the 
 altar lamps, as it were, in the shade. An angel, 
 — whether real or artificial deponent sayeth 
 not, — continually pointed to this wondrous 
 jewel, (called the " Regale of France,") which 
 must have been supererogative, since its bright- 
 ness compelled one to look and yet by this very 
 brilliancy forbade compliance. 
 
 There was a royal entertainment of great 
 chromatic splendor in Canterbury when the 
 young king Henry VIII received the Em- 
 peror Charles V at Dover on a Whitsunday 
 morning, and escorted him upon the Watling 
 Street to the Gate of St. George, the two kings 
 entering the city under the same haldacchino. 
 Wolsey preceded them, and English nobles in 
 full regalia pranced beside those of Spain. 
 This brilliant procession passed through lines of 
 clergy in ecclesiastical robes, and at the cathe- 
 dral, where they dismounted with a great clat- 
 ter, Archbishop Warham met the distinguished 
 
Canterbury 369 
 
 party, which was not, we trust, halted at the 
 choir gate for the paying of sixpence per capita 
 or the writing of names in a visitors' book. 
 
 Just eighteen years later the good saint was 
 publicly summoned by royal command to ap- 
 pear and show cause whereby he should not 
 be adjudged guilty of " treason, contumacy, 
 and rebellion." Beside the shrine this was read 
 and thirty days were accorded to St. Thomas 
 for the gathering together of his scattered 
 bones, blood and garments. Evidently he was 
 disinclined to leave the security and impor- 
 tance of his present position. Did he not know 
 how faithless kings could be? Rather suffer 
 unjust accusation in silence, though it be inter- 
 preted as an admission of guilt. The case was 
 actually argued with due formality at West- 
 minster Palace, and with proper accompani- 
 ment of attorneys for prosecution and defense. 
 Like stage duels and circus races, everybody 
 knew who would win ; sentence was pronounced 
 " that his bones should be publicly burnt, and 
 that offerings made at the shrine should be for- 
 feited to the crown." Lucky crown! 
 
 The royal commissioners came with nippers 
 and daintily picked out the jewels that were 
 imbedded in the covering of the shrine. It 
 was like the crow, perching " upon his bare 
 backbone and pluck (ing) his eyes out one by 
 
370 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 one." On Henry's fat breast the Regale of 
 France gleamed thereafter until he gave it to 
 his daughter Mary, who had it set in a golden 
 necklace. 
 
 " Why is it not now in existence? How I 
 should love to see it! " thus Sonia. 
 
 " Perhaps when the carbuncle came to Eliza- 
 beth her jeweler squinted at it through his 
 little glass and announced that it was ' re- 
 constructed.' That is apt to be the fate of 
 heirlooms." 
 
 Whether the comet-like visit of Erasmus and 
 Dean Colet to Canterbury directly influenced 
 the Reformation or not, they were the first 
 who openly scorned the notion that curative 
 powers exist in old clothes or dead men's shoes. 
 And doubt has destroyed the sanctity of many 
 a shrine, the value of many an Old JNIaster. 
 So sweeping was the housecleaning at Canter- 
 bury that even the arms of the city and cathe- 
 dral were altered ; and not only was the shrine 
 of St. Thomas utterly demolished, but an order 
 went forth through the land that everything 
 relating to the saint should be destroyed. 
 From historical and legal documents his name 
 was erased, from illuminated missals and church 
 prayer books ; statues and pictures vanished to 
 limbo, but this is all significant of royal and 
 religious ignorance of man's inability to obHt- 
 
A sivift intake of breath; and then loe both said '"Oh!''' 
 
Canterbury 371 
 
 erate from the book of life the name of a per- 
 sonality so powerful as that of Thomas a 
 Becket. 
 
 We walked about the beautiful cloisters 
 and thence emerged into the spacious grounds 
 that constitute the cathedral inclosure. So 
 many and so great are the beauties of this 
 Queen of England's ministers that we were 
 suddenly bereft of adjectives, and in silence 
 strolled about, allowing our senses to steep in 
 the atmosphere that varied from moment to 
 moment as widely as do the lines of Bell Harry 
 Tower, the Baptistry, " St. Thomas's Crown," 
 St. Anselm's Tower, and the disabled West 
 Front. Our first glance at the Baptistry pro- 
 duced a swift intake of breath, and a subse- 
 quent "Oh!" The Prior's Gateway beyond 
 the famous Dark Entry was a pleasantly sur- 
 prising bit of ruin. We were astonished to 
 find after a long hunt that the Norman Stair- 
 case is not a part of the cathedral, but leads to 
 the upper part of the King's School, founded 
 during the seventh century, which although in 
 the cathedral precincts is some distance from 
 where we had expected to find it. 
 
 Of the priory St. Augustine founded very 
 little remains but records and tradition. The 
 modern and not very beautiful gateway se- 
 cludes the Missionary College, which was built 
 
372 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 on a part of the Augustinian site, and was 
 erected — of ugly round Kentish flints — about 
 sixty years ago, a brewery having preempted 
 the position ever since the Reformation. Vis- 
 itors being required to follow a guide, we lost 
 much valuable time in seeing what we did not 
 wish to see. Somehow the old Guest Hall of 
 Tudor or earlier day escaped destruction by 
 both reformers and brewers, and although mod- 
 ernized to meet the gustatory requirements of 
 incipient missionaries to other lands, the fine 
 oaken roof remains unchanged. 
 
 A part of St. Ethelbert's Tower is about all 
 of the ancient abbey that is standing. The cit- 
 izens of Canterbury have not displayed much 
 conservatism or reverence for the skill of their 
 architectural predecessors. When building 
 materials were needed as the city grew larger, 
 the simple and labor-saving method of em- 
 ploying pickaxe and crowbar on the city walls 
 and the remaining portions of St. Augustine's 
 Abbey or the castle — any of the " good-for- 
 nothing " old ramshackle remains that were 
 so plentiful — was much more economical and 
 praktisch than buying new stuff. Besides, the 
 town ought to be cleared up, anyhow I 
 
 Recent excavations of an extensive nature 
 have revealed vast foundations of the ancient 
 Abbey church, of which much more is likely to 
 
Canterbury 373 
 
 be discovered ere the work is completed. Diana 
 delighted in a few mason marks she found on 
 some of the oldest stones. We stood aside 
 again from the group of trippers, who repre- 
 sent the large class of persons who like to swal- 
 low ready-made information and ideas rather 
 than to do any individual thinking. The foun- 
 dations disclosed near by are of St. Pancras's 
 church, which had originally been a British 
 place of worship, and subsequently the abode 
 of Saxon deities. It was given to Augustine 
 by Ethelbert and converted to Christian uses. 
 While Gregory was a monk in the monastery 
 of St. Andrew on one of Rome's seven hills, 
 and had not yet been called the Great, but had 
 newly uttered the famous words, " Non Angli 
 sed angeli " of the little EngHsh boy slaves, a 
 great desire came to him to go to the mysterious 
 and magnetic northern land whose people had 
 golden hair and blue eyes, and convert it to his 
 form of religious belief. He set forth without 
 papal permission; but after three days' jour- 
 neying he accepted the lighting of a locust on 
 his book during a roadside rest as a sign. Loco 
 sta, he interpreted as a heavenly indication that 
 he must go no farther; and at the same moment 
 breathless messengers from the pope overtook 
 him, requiring his return to Rome. 
 
 " I wonder what would have happened to 
 
374 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 the history of England if a bee or a mosquito 
 had hghted on his book? " said Diana, the 
 irreverent. 
 
 Gregory, however, never forgot his interest 
 in Albion; and soon after becoming pope he 
 chose from the Convent of St. Andrew the 
 monk Augustine, whom he sent with forty 
 other of the brothers on the mission he had 
 been compelled to relintjuish. AVhere Hengist 
 and Horsa had descended on the Isle of 
 Thanet from their ships the Roman mission- 
 aries stepped for the first time on the shore 
 of the coveted land. A messenger was sent 
 to Ethelbert, King of Kent, whose court was 
 at Canterbury. The king — although Bertha 
 his French wife was a Christian — was a little 
 fearful of these new arrivals and bade them re- 
 main oa the island, with the Stour flowing 
 between it and the mainland, so that if their 
 methods of conversion were of a magical nature 
 the water would serve as a non-conductor and 
 protect the people of Britain. Finally, a meet- 
 ing was arranged, and the king stipulating that 
 it must not be 'neath a roof, the " Son of the 
 Ash-tree " with his flaxen-haired Saxon giants 
 about him bravely faced, at Ebbes Fleet, the 
 brown-garbed band of brothers who had no 
 swords but came up the hill bearing a huge 
 silver cross and a big colored and gilded picture 
 
Canterbury 375 
 
 of the Savior, the while they chanted a Grego- 
 rian htany. The missionaries were thereafter 
 permitted to proceed to Canterbury and ere 
 long the king allowed them to worship in St. 
 JVIartin's church which had been erected for the 
 queen. Ethelbert's baptism was celebrated on 
 Whitsunday 597; and that day the Church of >/i/to u> U^' 
 England was born. Probably this is why ^^Ti/ij/^ 
 Whit-Monday'Tias always been a national •*■ * «" ■ "« » 
 holiday. ://" iun^cu^ ^ ^-^CtJ 
 
 We came later in the day to St. Martin's, ^^^ 
 which is claimed to be the oldest church in Eng;- :t' • 
 land ; but its boast is shared by several others. 
 This little church is set on a low hill from which 
 a fair view extends over the nether wealds of 
 Kent. The heavy twisted stems of the ivy in 
 which St. ]\Iartin's is wrapt look as old as the 
 Roman bricks incorporated in the walls. A 
 little pointed Saxon door is called St. Au- 
 gustine's; and perhaps the great preacher did 
 pass in and out thereby. 
 
 " Let us believe so," Sonia said, " it is pleas- 
 anter to believe than to doubt." 
 
 An old font is shown which, if not that in 
 which Ethelbert was baptized, is probably a 
 faithful replica. The ancient tomb said to be 
 Queen Bertha's has cause.1 some dispute 
 among fussy antiquarians; but this was her 
 church, dedicate to St. Martin of Tours, and if 
 
376 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 she lies beside her lord under St. Augustine's 
 Abbey, this may, nevertheless, be a monument 
 to her erected at the time of her death. 
 
 Soon after the consecration of St. Augustine 
 as Archbishop of Canterbury the first English 
 cathedral was erected; but almost no trace re- 
 mains of its original form, that of St. Peter's 
 at Rome. The generous Ethelbert was ob- 
 sessed with a desire for yet more churches in 
 the Kentish capital. He gave Augustine land 
 for a monastery which should accommodate a 
 vast number of clergy imported from Rome to 
 instruct the people of this island, who must be 
 taught in their own language. While the new 
 abbey and church were being erected the monks 
 worshipped in the old heathen temple they 
 dedicated to St. Pancras. At last the great 
 Roman missionary was buried beside the Wat- 
 ling Street, which had been made by his pagan 
 ancestors five hundred years before his coming. 
 
 Canterbury contains several interesting old 
 churches in addition to St. Pancras's and St. 
 Martin's. St. Alphege's we sought out be- 
 cause of the story of him in whose memory it 
 was erected. Al^^hege, who was Archbishop 
 of Canterbury when it was sacked by the Danes 
 in 1011, was taken prisoner by them and con- 
 ducted to their camp at Greenwich, where after 
 seven months' captivit)'^ he was put to death. 
 
Canterbury 377 
 
 St. Mildred's has large blocks of oolite from 
 some Roman building incorporated into the 
 quoins of the south wall of the nave. Izaac 
 Walton was married in St. Mildred's. An 
 ancient archway and tower on which we hap- 
 pened about midway between the cathedral 
 and St. Martin's we presumed to be all that 
 remains of the church of St. Mary Magdalen. 
 There were friars of orders gray, black, and 
 white established in Canterbury. Of the Gray 
 Friars' abode a picturesque bit exists, span- 
 ning with double arch a small stream. As 
 early as 1100 Bishop Anselm founded a nun- 
 nery for a prioress and five nuns, which he dedi- 
 cated to St. Sepulchre. This nunnery's name 
 is chiefly remembered because of a certain 
 epileptic, nervous, religious fanatic who was 
 for a few years a member of the household. 
 Elizabeth Barton was a tavern servant in Al- 
 dington, a Kentish village. Suddenly she de- 
 veloped a propensity for seeing visions, and 
 dreaming dreams which were extraordinary. 
 Her hallucinations she confessed to her priest, 
 Richard Masters, who violated his office and 
 told of her confession, his confidant being 
 Canon Bockling of Canterbury. Bockling 
 passed the good word along to Archbishop 
 Warham, who sent the canon to Aldington to 
 " investigate." Elizabeth's dreams were ad- 
 
378 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 vertised by the clergy as divine revelations, and 
 people flocked in hundreds to see the " Holy 
 INIaid of Kent." jMany a hectic scene was 
 enacted by her for the public delectation. She 
 became so accomplished that she could summon 
 visions " to order," and could see and hear just 
 what the reverend fathers desired she should. 
 At this time England was convulsed with ex- 
 citement over Henry's divorce from Catherine, 
 and the prophetess had something direct from 
 headquarters to predict concerning the pro- 
 jected marriage with Anne. She declared that 
 she had received a letter from Mary Magdalen 
 written in gold ink which informed her that if 
 the king married Mistress Bullen he would die 
 within seven montlis. She was especially en- 
 couraged and stimulated, perhaps remuner- 
 ated, by the Observants, who were zealous op- 
 ponents of the marriage. Even Sir Thomas 
 More took her seriously and corresponded with 
 her — in gold ink also? At length the king 
 awoke to the situation, and summoned her with 
 ]\Iasters and Bockling before Parliament, 
 which promptly sentenced them all to be exe- 
 cuted. She was beheaded at Tyburn in 1534. 
 Among the fine Tudor buildings in Canter- 
 bury is St. John's Hospital, which is best seen 
 from the garden side. The Canterbury 
 " Weavers " everybody sees, for it is the most 
 
Canterbury 379 
 
 picturesque bit of architecture along the High 
 Street. One side of it overhangs the River 
 Stour. The art of weaving was for three cen- 
 turies one of Canterbury's chief sources of in- 
 come. The Huguenot and Walloon refugees 
 brought their craft with them and this little 
 city profited thereby, just as Colchester was 
 the richer for the bays and says manufacture. 
 Then, during the early part of the nineteenth 
 century the industry almost died; but now an 
 effort has been made to revive it, and this 
 beautiful old building has been successfully 
 restored to meet the weavers' requirements 
 and to delight the eye of every visitor to Can- 
 terbury. 
 
 The city wall with twenty-one watch towers 
 and six gates that had been given to the city of 
 Canterbury by Archbishop Simon of Sudbury, 
 whom Wat Tyler murdered, now hides many 
 of its fragmentary remnants behind houses, 
 stables and fences. The only considerable por- 
 tion that we could find is that which curves 
 outward to avoid the green mound called Dane 
 John, not far from the cattle market which we 
 beheld full of sturdy Kentish wethers. The 
 wall, it seems, has been gradually removed by 
 those same citizens of Canterbury who stood in 
 need of building material. The brewery hap- 
 pily was redeemed; but who shall save Canter- 
 
380 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 bury Castle from the local gas company by 
 which it is used as a " coal bunk "? This was 
 for centuries a stronghold for the city's pro- 
 tection and was to Canterbury what Dover's 
 castle was to the channel port. Its keep was 
 the third largest in England; and now — it is 
 like Mary's lamb after a visit to Pittsburg. 
 
 " What is Dane John? " asked Sonia. " It 
 looks like a large-size British barrow. I won- 
 der if they have ever had gumption enough to 
 open it and see if it contained anything interest- 
 ing?" We searched through our guidebooks 
 and found that the origin of the name is not 
 known, though its form has often varied, Dan- 
 zil, Dauzon, Daungron, Dungeon, being a few 
 of its variations. Dane John may have been 
 used for defense of the city. 
 
 " Why not a beacon? " Diana hazarded. 
 " There are no natural hills near by." The 
 hideous shaft is a recent addition; but since 
 time immemorial the mound has been sur- 
 rounded by a park. During repairs made to 
 the wall a few years ago some bones, flint 
 arrowheads, Roman ornaments and bits of 
 mosaic were found near the base. 
 
 A stone dwelling on a corner not very far 
 from the cathedral bears a sign, " Lady Woot- 
 on's Green-House," whatever that may be. 
 The side wall of the house — wliich is not green 
 
Canterbury 381 
 
 — is a most interesting admixture of archi- 
 tectural periods, in the form of doors and 
 windows. 
 
 The Stour, which gave to Canterbury its 
 Celtic name, meaning *' Stronghold in the 
 marsh," is constantly appearing in unexpected 
 places. We had found St. Mildred's Church, 
 again the Gray Friars', and yet again the 
 Weavers beside or over it. 
 
 Mercery Lane is still the chief place in which 
 to purchase souvenirs of Canterbury, although 
 these now bear no resemblance to those which 
 were sold in vast numbers to pilgrims to the 
 shrine of St. Thomas. The lane then was a 
 double line of arcades like those now in Bern 
 and the Rows in Chester. The present de- 
 lightful top-heavy houses are of Tudor times. 
 Under these arcades the vendors displayed 
 their wares. This was a custom which had de- 
 veloped from older shrines, St. Etheldreda's — 
 commonly called St. Awdrey's — at Ely, espe- 
 cially. At length cheap lace, tinsel ornaments, 
 and other claptrap, much of which is still sold 
 at expositions and county fairs, was denomi- 
 nated " tawdry " by the people of good taste 
 because at the shrine of St. Awdrey such sales 
 had their beginning in England. The chief 
 stock in trade at Canterbury were " signs " to 
 be fastened on the hat as indicative of having 
 
382 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 made the pilgrimage, just as returning cru- 
 saders had a bit of palm leaf in their caps. The 
 signs sold at Canterbury were usually " leaden 
 brooches representing the mitred head of the 
 saint, with the inscription, ' Caput Thomae.' " 
 
 As manner and custom is, signs there they bought, 
 For men of contre to know whom they had sought. 
 Each man set his silver in such thing as they liked. 
 
 Once the sacred relics had been duly saluted 
 the pilgrim was free to make merry; and the 
 vast cellars under the " Chekers of the Hope 
 that every man doth know " amply aided in 
 supplying good cheer. Several other inns en- 
 dure, in name if not in actual construction. The 
 Falstaff, whose flamboyant sign we had seen 
 as we came from the railway station, cannot 
 legitimately claim so great an age as the Royal 
 Fountain which was mentioned in 1299 as the 
 best in Canterbury, and which claims to have 
 housed the mother of King Harold in 1029, to 
 have been the residence of Lanfranc while his 
 palace was being rebuilt in 1070, and even to 
 have been the rendezvous of the four *' gentle- 
 men " who murdered Becket. 
 
 One of Becket's shoes was preserved at 
 HarbledowTi, a little village about two miles 
 from Canterbury, which afforded pilgrims op- 
 portunity for resting under the trees, drinking 
 
Canterbury 383 
 
 from the well, and kissing the sacred shoe. 
 This is the story, but as Lanfranc was the 
 founder of the church and " hospital " at Har- 
 bledown, the shoe may not have been one of 
 Becket's, although it served as good a purpose 
 to the faithful pilgrims. We drove out to 
 Harbledown, where at the door of the little 
 church that is o'ertopped by an ancient yew, 
 we were met by a benevolent old man whose 
 personality was even more interesting than the 
 information he gave us anent his church and 
 the St. Nicholas almshouses which are snugly 
 settled below it, among bright flower borders, 
 the gray walls showing between ragged out- 
 lines of clambering roses and ivy. Behind the 
 almshouses is the famous old well which is 
 called the " Black Prince's Well," wherefrom 
 the young man had slaked his thirst, and to 
 which he sent messengers for water as he lay 
 dying many years afterward. Over the well, 
 which nestles among tall ferns and overhang- 
 ing branches, has been carved the prince's em- 
 blem which he chose for his royal standard 
 when he selected " ich dien " for his motto. 
 The well had doubtless been one of Lanfranc's 
 reasons for selecting this site for the leper hos- 
 pital which he founded for returned crusaders 
 who came back covered with leprosy rather 
 than the glory they had anticipated. The 
 
Canterbury 385 
 
 Colet and Erasmus, too, when returning 
 from Canterbury to London, " found them- 
 selves in a descent through a steep and narrow 
 lane, with high banks on either side ; on the left 
 rose an ancient almshouse. We recognize at 
 once the old familiar lazar-house of Harble- 
 down ... so picturesque even now in its de- 
 cay . . . Down those steps came, according to 
 his wont, an aged almsman; and as the two 
 horsemen approached, he threw his accustomed 
 shower of holy water, and then pressed for- 
 ward, holding the upper leather of a shoe, 
 bound in a brass rim with a crystal set in the 
 center." This was the last straw. They were 
 expected to kiss the unpleasant bit of shoe 
 leather. Colet spluttered wrathfuUy; but the 
 gentle Erasmus gave the old man some money 
 and they proceeded on their road, sadder and 
 wiser than when they came the other way. 
 From Dean Stanley again: " In the old chest 
 of the almshouse still remain two relics. . . . 
 The one is an ancient maple bowl, bound with 
 a brazen rim, which contains a piece of rock 
 crystal, so exactly reminding us of that which 
 Erasmus describes in the leather of St. 
 Thomas's shoe, as to suggest the conjecture 
 that when the shoe was lost the crystal was 
 thus preserved. The other is a rude box, with 
 a chain to be held by the hand, and a slit for 
 
386 Ways and Days Out of London 
 
 money in the lid, at least as old as the sixteenth 
 century. In that box, we can hardly doubt, 
 the coin of Erasmus was deposited." 
 
 Another saunter through and around the 
 cathedral to cement the morning's impressions 
 and the end had come of this our last day on a 
 " spoke " from London. 
 
 On the train Diana loosened the string on a 
 little packet of purchases. 
 
 " I don't believe I can give away any of 
 these things. They mean so much to me ; and 
 who else could rightly value them unless they 
 had seen Canterbury? I really think our 
 friend Gregory the Great was mistaken when 
 he said : ' Things are not to be loved for the 
 sake of places, but places for the sake of 
 things.' " 
 
 " No, he is right. If you did not love the 
 things that are in the places you would not love 
 the places themselves; and consequently the 
 things you bring from the places — Oh, dear! 
 how sorry I am that we have not time for more 
 days out of London ! " 
 
 Somewhat pensively we looked out from the 
 windows of our compartment for fleeting 
 glimpses of hop farms, their crops almost ready 
 for the picking; meadow brooks aimlessly 
 meandering through sinuous lines of bushy 
 pollard willows; farms whose red-tiled roofs 
 
Canterbury 387 
 
 made the thatched ones of Bedfordshire seem 
 in some other land. Cloud shadows raced 
 northward as fast as we. Were those great 
 white cumuli that floated so lightly against the 
 blue also feeling the steady magnetism that 
 had brought us back so many times from places 
 where we should have liked to remain? Would 
 they leave London at last as relunctantly as 
 we; or would they gently descend among her 
 towers, mingle with her atmosphere and lose 
 their identity in the embrace of the city that 
 loves no man, but is beloved by all who know 
 her? 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abbey Hotel, 197 
 
 Abbey, St. Albans, 160. 163, 164, 
 
 169-171, 263, 304, 306. 307, 
 
 347, 348. 349 
 Abbey, St. Augustine's, 372, 376 
 Abbey of St. John, 263, 264 
 Abbey of St. Peter, 145 
 Abbey, Sion, 272 
 Abbey, Woburn. 350 
 Abbots' Langley, .349 
 Adelais of Lorraine, 145 
 Adelard, 216 
 iEsope, 226 
 
 Agincourt, 74, 156, 313, 325 
 Ains worth, Harrison, 212 
 Alban, St., 161, 102, 163, 174 
 Albany, Duke of, 153 
 Albert Chapel, 148 
 Albert Embankment, 268 
 Albert, Prince, 350 
 Albini, William de, 53 
 Alcock, Bishop, 112, 132 
 Aldington. 377 
 Alfred the Atheling, 80 
 Alfred the Great, 79, 109 
 Alkmund, 284. 285 
 Allen, Joseph, 231 
 Allej-n, Edward, 223, 225, 226, 
 
 227, 228, 236, 237, 238, 242, 
 
 299, 302 
 Alleyn, Edward, list of costumes 
 
 of, 233, 234 
 
 Alleyn, James. 230. 231 
 
 Alleyn, JoanWoodward, 227. 233, 
 
 236 
 Alleyn, Simon, Vicar of Bray, 237 
 Allin, (see Alleyn) 
 Alphege, Archbi.shop, 376 
 Amadis of Gaul. 303 
 Ambresbury Banks, 210, 211 
 Amelia, Princess, 77 
 American Velvet Plant, 86 
 Amphibalus, 160, 161, 168, 275 
 Ampthill, 349 
 Angel Hotel, 81 
 Anglo-Saxon (see Saxon) 
 Anjou, Margaret of, 177 
 Anna, King, 108 
 Anne of Bohemia, 71 
 Anne Bole>-n. (Bullen), 11, 212, 
 
 321, 378 
 Anne of Cleves, 53, 73, 332 
 Anne of Denmark, 280, 322 
 Anne, Queen, 75, 316 
 Anselm. Bishop. 377 
 Aragonnaise. (see Catherine of 
 
 Aragon) 
 Aragon, Catherine of, 310, 314, 
 
 319, 320. 378 
 Armada, the, 37 
 Arthur King, 250 
 Arundell. Lord, 229 
 Asclepiodotus, 250 
 Ascot, Royal, 57-66, 157, 158 
 Athelbrough, 285 
 
 389 
 
390 
 
 Index 
 
 Atkinson, 235 
 
 Attaboni, Cardinal, 348 
 
 Audley, Lord, 312 
 
 Augustine, St., 45, 108, 371-376 
 
 Augustinian friars, 198, 261 
 
 Aungre, (see Chipping Ongar) 
 
 Austerlitz, 86 
 
 Avershawe, Jerry, 87, 212, 299 
 
 B 
 
 Babiola, (see Brunswick House) 
 
 Backs, the, 123, 124 
 
 Bacon, Francis, (Baron Veru- 
 
 1am), 128, 175, 195, 228, 229, 
 
 241, 363 
 Bajazet, Sultan, 313 
 Baldwin, Job, 42 
 Balkerne Lane, 256 
 Balkon Gate, 254 
 Ball, John, 172 
 Balsham, Hugh de, 119 
 Bankside, 223, 224 
 "Barks." 26 
 Barnes, 270 
 Barnes Common, 84 
 Bartolozzi, 275 
 Barton, Elizabeth, 377, 378 
 Bath, Bishop of, 319 
 Battersea Park, 269 
 Bayeux, Odo Bishop of, 52 
 Bays and Says, 259, 379 
 Bear Inn, 89, 91 
 Beaufort, Cardinal, 306, 307 
 Becket, 267, 279, 365, 382 
 Becket, St. Thomas a, 360-369 
 Bede, 122 
 
 Bedford, 340, 342, 347 
 Bedford, Duke of, 350 
 Bedfordshire, 339 
 "Beds," 334 
 Beechey, 241 
 
 Beethoven, 87 
 
 Belle Weir Lock, 31 
 
 Bell Harry Tower, 371 
 
 Bell Inn, 105 
 
 Bells of Ouseley Inn, 30 
 
 Benedictine Monastery, 109 
 
 Benedictine Nunnery of St. 
 
 Rhadegund, 132 
 Benham, Canon, 46 
 Bentley, Richard, 314 
 Beodricksworth, (see St. Ed- 
 
 mundsbury) 
 Berkhampstead, 169 
 Berks, 26 
 Berkshire, 26 
 
 Bermondsey, Priory of 222, 223 
 Bertha, Queen, 374, 375, 376 
 Big Ben, 268, 298 
 Billingsgate, 267 
 Bisham Abbey, 198 
 Blackfriars, 268 
 Blackheath, 310-314 
 Black Prince, 361, 362, 363, 364. 
 
 365 
 Black Prince's Well, 383 
 Blee, Forest of, 384 
 Blue Book, 80, 178 
 Boadicea, 173, 210, 253 
 Bockling, Canon, 377,378 
 Bohemia, Anne of, 72 
 Bohun, 32 
 
 Boleyn, Anne, 11, 212, 321, 378 
 Bond, 232, 240 
 
 Boulter's Lock, 19, 20, 182, 202 
 Bourgeois, SirPeter Francis, 238, 
 
 241 
 Bourne End, 200 
 Bourne Ponds, 264 
 Boveny, 26 
 Boveny Lock, 26 
 Bowling Green, 86 
 
Index 
 
 391 
 
 Brabant, Duke of, 303, 305 
 
 Brahe, Tycho, 324 
 
 Brandon, Charles, 147 
 
 Bray, 22 
 
 Bray Lock, 22 
 
 Bray Manor, 22 
 
 Bray, Vicar of, 22, 237 
 
 Braybroke, Henry de, 347 
 
 Breakspeare, Nicholas, 176 
 
 Brentford, 272 
 
 Brentford Ferry, 70 
 
 Bret, le, 367 
 
 Bridge, Kingston, 277 
 
 Bridge, London, 260, 267 
 
 Bridge, Maidenhead, 21, 29 
 
 Bridge, Mathematical, 124 
 
 Bridge, Putney, 269 
 
 Bridge, Richmond, 76 
 
 Bridge, Rochester, 50, 56 
 
 Bridge of Sighs, 128 
 
 Bridge, Westminster, 268 
 
 Bridget, Queen of Gypsies, 237 
 
 British (Britons), 16, 52, 173, 
 
 250, 252. 264, 294, 311, 334, 
 
 353, 373, 380 
 Broad Walk, 11, 277 
 Brompton Cemetery, 159, 244 
 Brompton Road, 4 
 Browning, Robert, 299 
 Bruce, Robert, 50 
 Brunswick House, 311 
 Buccleuch, Duke of, 78 
 Buccleuch House, 78 
 Buckingham, Duke of, 264, 278 
 Buckinghamshire, 26 
 "Bucks," 26 
 Bull Inn, 54 
 Bullen, (see Boleyn) 
 Burbage, 232, 240, 280 
 Burgundy, Duke of, 304, 305 
 Burlington, Earl of, 271 
 
 Bume-Jones, 120, 144 
 Bumham Abbey, 147 
 Burnham Beeches, 142, 143 
 Bury (see St. Edmundsbury) 
 Bushey Park, 277, 282 
 Butler, 336 
 Byron, 128 
 
 Cabal, 275 
 
 Cade, Jack. 312 
 
 Caesar, Julius, 43, 44, 114. 147, 
 
 165, 173, 251, 252, 354 
 Caesar's Tower, 211 
 Caius College, 128, 132 
 Calton, Sir Francis, 223, 226 2^7 
 Calton. Thomas, 223 
 Cam River, 123, 126 
 Camberwell Road, 299 
 Cambridge, 103, 116-136, 205, 
 
 329 
 Cambridge Road, 213 
 Cambridgeshire, 105 
 Campeius, Cardinal, 314 
 Camulodonum (see Colchester) 
 Candy, King of, 151 
 Canterbury, 43, 47, 357-387 
 Canterbury bells, 35, 384 
 Canterbury Castle, 372. 380 
 Canterbury Cathedral, 359-371, 
 
 376 
 Canterbury, St. Thomas of, 267, 
 
 365 
 Canterbury Weavers, 378, 381 
 Carlo Dolci, 150, 239 
 Caroline, Queen. 310 
 Carpenter's Court, 282 
 Carracci, Annibale, 240 
 Cartwright Collection, 240, 243 
 Cartwright, William, 240 
 Castle, Canterbury, 380 
 
392 
 
 Index 
 
 Castle, Chipping Ongar, 296 
 
 Castle, Colchester, 256-260 
 
 Castle, King Cole's 255 
 
 Castle Park, 256 
 
 Castle, Rochester, 36, 48-54, 97 
 
 Castle, Upnor, 54 
 
 Castle, Vanbrugh, 315 
 
 Castle, Windsor, 145, 146, 150 
 
 Caswallon, 252 
 
 Cathedral, Canterbury, 359-371, 
 
 376 
 Cathedral, Ely, 105-115, 163 
 Cathedral, Rochester, 44-48, 
 
 106, 108, 110 
 Cathedral, St. Albans, 165-169, 
 
 180 
 Cathedral, Wells, 215 
 Catherine of Aragon, 310, 314, 
 
 319, 320, 349, 378 
 Cave, Dick Turpin's, 213 
 Cellini, Benvenuto, 150 
 Chancery, 230 
 Chapel, St. George's, 146 
 Charlemagne, 88 
 Charles I, 29, 73, 145, 275, 280, 
 
 344, 348, 353 
 Charles II, 55, 314, 322, 323, 324, 
 
 325 
 Charles V of Spain, 319, 368 
 Charlotte, Princess, 90, 91 
 Charlotte, Queen, 69 
 Charter House, 3, 328 
 Chatham, 36, 37, 38, 39, 43, 55, 
 
 312 
 Chatham Chest, 326, 331 
 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 72, 128, 156, 
 
 357, 384 
 Chelsea, 267, 324 
 Chelsea Embankment, 268 
 Chelsea landing, 267, 269 
 Chequers Inn, 359, 382 
 
 Chere Reine Cross, (see Eleanor 
 
 Cross) 
 Chester, 43, 354, 381 
 Chesterfield, Lord, 310, 311 
 Chesterfield Walk, 311 
 Chesterfieldian, 32 
 Chews, tombs of, 351 
 Cheyne Walk, 3, 268 
 Chiltern Hills, 197, 200, 334 
 Chingford, 203 
 Chipping Ongar, 290, 291, 292, 
 
 296 
 Chiswick House, 271 
 Cholmondeley Walk, 75 
 Christmas Palace, 279 
 Church, Brickhill, 354 
 Church, Dunstable, 344, 349, 351 
 Church, St. Alphege's, 376 
 Church, St. Bartholomew's the 
 
 Great, 217 
 Church, St. Benet's, 120, 122. 
 
 136 
 Church, St. George's, 7 
 Church, St. Giles's, 138, 140, 263, 
 
 299 
 Church, St. John's, 262 
 Church, St. Martin's, 375 
 Church, St. Mary's, 97, 193 
 Church, St. Mary's-at-the- Walls, 
 
 255 
 Church, St. Mary the Less, 120 
 Church, St. Michael's, 174, 175, 
 
 176 
 Church, St. Mildred's, 377, 381 
 Church, St. Pancras's, 373, 376 
 Church, St. Sepulchre's, 132 
 Church, St. Stephen's, 176 
 Church, Trinity, 260 
 Cinque Ports, 265 
 Clapham, 248 
 Clare Bridge, 124 
 
Index 
 
 393 
 
 Clare College, 124 
 
 Claremont, 90, 93 
 
 Clarence Inn, 276 
 
 Claude, 150, 239 
 
 Claudius, 252, 255 
 
 Claudius, Temple of, 253 
 
 Claypole, Mrs., 281 
 
 Cleves, Anne of, 53, 73, 332 
 
 Clive, Lord, 90 
 
 Cliveden, 202 
 
 Cloister Court, 124, 126 
 
 Clouet, 135 
 
 Cluniac Priory, 222 
 
 Cobham. 83, 93, 94, 99 
 
 Cobham, Henry de, 50 
 
 Cock Inn, 312 
 
 Code, Forest, 205 
 
 Coel (see "Cole") 
 
 Coilus, (see "Cole") 
 
 Coke, Sir Edward, 139 
 
 Colchester, 205, 210. 237, 255, 
 245-267 
 
 Colchester Castle, 251, 256-260 
 
 Colchester oysters, 264 
 
 Cole, King, 250 
 
 Cole's, St. Mary, 265, 
 
 Coleridge, 128 
 
 Colet, Dean, 370, 385 
 
 "Colking's Palace," 251 
 
 College, Caius, 128, 132 
 
 College, Christ, 130 
 
 College, Clare, 124 
 
 College, Corpus Christi, 117 
 
 College, Dulwich, 224, 228-232, 
 237, 239, 242 
 
 College, Eton, 144 
 
 College of God's Gift, (see Dul- 
 wich College) 
 
 College Road, 243 
 
 College, Jesus, 132 
 
 College, King's, 121, 144 
 
 College, Magdalen, 128 
 College, Missionary, 371 
 College, Pembroke, 118 
 College, Queens', 123 
 College, Royal Naval, 327 
 College, St. Catherine's, 123 
 College, St. John's, 129, 144 
 College, St. Peter's, 119, 133 
 College, Trinity, 125, 128 
 Colman, Sir Jeremiah, 245 
 Colne, River, 31, 265 
 Columbus, 260 
 Commonwealth, The, 73 
 Connaught Water, 206 
 Conquest, Norman, 80, 138 
 Conrad, Choir of, 360 
 Constable, 18, 355 
 Constantine the Great, 250 
 Constantius, 250, 255 
 Cookham, 201 
 Cookham Lock, 201 
 "Copper Horse," the, 157 
 Cornwall, Richard Earl of, 29 
 Corpus Christi College, 117 
 Cottages, St Michael's, 178 
 Cottage, Farm, 294 
 Covent Garden, 32, 98 
 Correggio, 278 
 Cranmer, Archbishop, 128, 319, 
 
 349 
 Cratendune, 108, 122 
 Crecy, 59, 361, 363 
 Crimea, 384 
 
 Cromwell, Elizabeth, 281 
 Cromwell, Oliver, 112, 113, 115, 
 
 127, 128, 255, 257, 259, 263, 
 
 281 
 Cromwell, Richard, 219 
 Cromwell, Thomas, 261, 270, 
 
 281, 320, 321 
 Crown Inn, 49, 54 
 
394 
 
 Index 
 
 Croxted Lane, 241 
 Crystal Palace, 243, 244-247 
 Cuijp, 239 
 Curfew Tower, 147 
 Cymbeline, 252 
 
 D 
 
 Da Forli, 150 
 Dane John, 379, 380 
 Danes, the, 52, 109, 126, 127, 
 165, 197, 208, 253, 274, 286, 
 287, 288, 335, 376 
 
 DanesBeld, 197 
 
 Dark Entry, 371 
 
 Datchet Mead, 30 
 
 Dekker, 225 
 
 Denmark, Anne of, 280, 322 
 
 Denning. S. P., 239 
 
 Derbyshire, 140 
 
 Derbyshire, Mr., 343 
 
 De Ruyter, 37 
 
 Derwentwater, Earl of, 326 
 
 Desenfans, 238, 239, 241 
 
 Devil's Tower, 152 
 
 Devonshire, Georgiana Duchess 
 of, 275 
 
 Dickens, Chas., 30, 46, 55 
 
 Dick Turpin, 212, 213 
 
 Dick Turpin's Cave, 213 
 
 Diocletian, 160 
 
 Disraeli, 317 
 
 Domesday Book, (Survey), 123, 
 138, 200 
 
 Dorchester House, 201 
 
 Dorothy Vernon, 140, 141 
 
 Downs, 79, 99, 336, 352 
 
 Dover, 43, 53, 312, 334, 353, 368, 
 380 
 
 Dry den, 128 
 
 Dudley, Robert, Earl of Leices- 
 ter, 69 
 
 Dulwich, (Dilewich, Dilwysshe), 
 
 221-243 
 Dulwich Art Gallery, 238, 239, 
 
 240, 241, 242, 243 
 Dulwich College, 224, 227, 228, 
 
 232, 237, 239, 242 
 Dulwich Manor, 227 
 Dulwich Park, 237, 243 
 Du Maurier, Geo., 23 
 Dun, or Dunninge, 335-343 
 Dunum, 835 
 Dungeons, 50, 256 
 Dunstable, 174, 334-353 
 Dunstable Church, 344 
 Dunstan, 287, 361 
 Durobrivse, 52 
 Dutch House, 69 
 Dvorak, 68 
 Dysart, Earl of, 275 
 
 Eadmund, St., 250, 284-289, 293 
 
 308, 365 
 East Anglia, 108, 122, 249, 284, 
 
 287 
 Eastgate House, 55 
 Ebbe's Fleet, 374 
 Edelinck, 135 
 Edgar, 109 
 Edgware Road, 15 
 Edward L 71, 348 
 Edward IL 170, 171 
 Edward III, 22, 29, 72, 145, 156, 
 
 171 
 Edward IV, 53, 125, 145, 146, 318 
 Edward VL 166, 272, 281 
 Edward VII, 219 
 Edward the Black Prince, 361, 
 
 362, 363, 364, 365 
 Edward the Confessor, 80, 145, 
 
 170, 205, 215 
 
Index 
 
 395 
 
 Eel Pie Island. 76, 276 
 
 Egfrid, 108 
 
 Eleanor of Cobham, Duchess of 
 
 Gloucester, 304, 305, 307 
 Eleanor of Provence, 348 
 Eleanor, (Chere Reine) 352 
 Eleanor Cross, 218, 352 
 Elephant and Castle Inn, 299 
 Elizabeth, Hunting Lodge of 
 
 Queen, 204, 205, 207 
 Elizabeth, Queen. 29. 37, 67, 71, 
 
 73, 74, 75, 128, 139, 206, 223. 
 
 278, 280, 315, 318. 326, 350, 
 
 370 
 Elstree, 160 
 Ely, 102, 103, 105-115, 132, 163, 
 
 170, 308, 365, 381 
 Ely Cathedral, 122, 163 
 Ely, Isle of, 108, 109, 127 
 Emerson, 175 
 Epitaphs, 110, 111, 168, 169. 
 
 235, 264 
 Epping Forest, 203-213, 289, 
 
 301 
 Epping Thicks, 211 
 Epping, Town of, 213 
 Erasmus, 370, 385, 386 
 Erasmus Court, 123 
 Erasmus Tower, 123 
 Ernulph,261 
 Esher, 89, 90, 147. 276 
 Esher Place, 73, 91 
 Essex, 215, 249 
 Essex Forest, 170, 205, 208, 209, 
 
 212, 219, 220, 294 
 Essex, Earl of, 128, 348 
 Ethelbert, 162, 163, 373-376 
 Etheldreda, St., 108, 109, 114, 
 
 163, 365, 381 
 Ethelred, King of Mercia, 52 
 Ethelred II., 80 
 
 Ethelwald, 79, 80. 96 
 Eton, 30, 143, 144, 148, 193 
 Evelyn, 242, 251. 326 
 Eudo. 262, 263 
 
 Fair Mile, 93 
 
 Fairfax, 255 
 
 Falconer, Lord, 281 
 
 Falstaff, 30 
 
 Falstaff Inn, 382 
 
 Farm Cottage, 294 
 
 Fawkes de Brent. 346, 347 
 
 Fawke's Hall (Vauxhall), 365 
 
 Fayrey,Henry and Agnes, 345 
 
 Fenny Stratford, 350-356 
 
 Field, 232, 240 
 
 Fife, Earl of, 153 
 
 Fighting Cocks Inn, 179 
 
 Fish Court, 282 
 
 Flamsteed, 324, 325 
 
 Florence, William of, 98 
 
 Foote, 241 
 
 Forest Court, 204 
 
 Forest, Father, 320, 321 
 
 Formosa Island, 202 
 
 Fortescue. John. 141 
 
 Fortune Theatre, 226 
 
 Fortuny, 193 
 
 Fountain Court, 278 
 
 Four Swans Inn, 218 
 
 Fox-and-Hounds Inn, 89 
 
 Fredric, Abbot of St. Albans, 
 
 170 
 Freeman, Prof., 110 
 Friar Thomas, 108 
 Friars (Grey, etc.), 377, 381 
 Friars' Chapel, 321 
 Froude, 163 
 Fulham, 269 
 Fuller, 224, 225 
 
396 
 
 IndCiV 
 
 Gad's Hill House, 55 
 
 Gainsborough, 18, 151, 240, 278, 
 355 
 
 Garrick, David, 233 
 
 Gate, BalkoQ, 254 
 
 Gate, George IV's, 157 
 
 Gate, Henry VHI's, 146 
 
 Gate, Honour, 132 
 
 Gate, Humility. 132 
 
 Gate, King's, 125 
 
 Gate, Lion, 10 
 
 Gate, Monastery, 218 
 
 Gate of St. George, 308 
 
 Gate, Trophy, 277, 282 
 
 Gate, Virtue, 132 
 
 Gate, West, 358 
 
 Gaunt, John of, 362 
 
 Gaveston, Piers, 170 
 
 George I, 75 
 
 George II. 77, 326 
 
 George III, 30, 69, 75 
 
 George IV, 90, 157. 310 
 
 Georgiana, Duchess of Devon- 
 shire, 275 
 
 Gibbons, Grinling, 151 
 
 Gillingham, 52 
 
 Gimmett, 49 
 
 Giorgione, 42 
 
 Giotto, 167 
 
 Globe Theatre, 224, 226 
 
 "Gladstone," 316-318 
 
 Gloucester, Eleanor, Duchess of, 
 304, 305. 307 
 
 Gloucester, Humphrey, Duke of, 
 302-308, 315, 318, 348 
 
 Gloucester, Jacqueline, Duchess 
 of, 303-305, 348 
 
 Glover Island, 76 
 
 Godebog, Coel, 250 
 
 Godwin (Godwine), Earl, 80, 215 
 
 Gordon, General, 46 
 
 Gordon Hotel, 55 
 
 Gorhambury House, 175 
 
 Gray, Dorothy, 138 
 
 Gray, Thomas, 120, 137-142 
 
 Great Court, 126 
 
 Great North Road, 354 
 
 Greene, 232 
 
 Greenstead, 290-296 
 
 Greenwich, 227, 279, 297-333. 
 
 349, 376 
 Greenwich Hospital, 316, 325- 
 
 333 
 Greenwich Palace, 318, 319, 323- 
 
 325-333 
 Greenwich Park, 300, 310, 314, 
 
 323, 324 
 Gregory, 373, 374, 386 
 Grenta, 123 
 Grentebridge, 123 
 Grey Hound Inn, 29 
 Grey. John, 177, 178 
 Grey, Lady Jane, 257, 272 
 Grimthorpe, Lord, 166 
 Grindcobbe. William, 171, 172 
 Grosvenor Road, 268 
 Guest Hall, 372 
 Guido Reni, 150, 240 
 Guildford, 79, 80. 81, 82. 83. 96- 
 
 99 
 Guildford Castle, 80, 97 
 Guildford Coach (see Reliance) 
 Guildhall, 96 
 Gundulph, Bishop, 45 
 
 H 
 
 Haden, Sir Seymour, 8, 301 
 Hainault Forest, 209 
 Hainault, Isabella of, 22, 72, 209 
 Hainault, Jacqueline, Countess 
 of, 303-305, 348 
 
Index 
 
 397 
 
 Half -moon Lane, 236 
 Halley, Edmund, 325 
 Halliwell, 222 
 Ham House, 275 
 Hambleden Lock, 195 
 Hamilton, Emma, Lady, 330 
 Hammersmith, 248, 270 
 Hammersmith Bridge, 82 
 Hammersmith Broadway, 9 
 Hampstead, 86, 160 
 Hampstead Hill, 301 
 Hampton Court, 8-13, 72, 89, 91, 
 
 144, 267, 277-283, 300, 329 
 Hampton Wick, 277 
 Hampton Wick, Cobbler of, 277 
 Hand of Glory, St. Bridget's, 51 
 "Hanlegang,"(see Henley) 
 Harbledown, 382-386 
 Harold, King, 205, 210, 214. 215, 
 
 216. 217, 218, 382 
 Harold Hardrada, 216 
 Harrow-on- the-Hill, 149 
 Hastings, 52. 214, 216 
 Harvey, 128 
 
 Heglisdune (see Hill of Eagles) 
 Helena, St., 250, 254. 255 
 Hengist and Horsa, 374 
 Henley, 30, 273, 181-195 
 Henley Bridge, 184 
 Henley Regatta, 185-195 
 Henrietta Maria, 73, 280, 322 
 Henry, Duke of Normandy, 345 
 Henry I., 45, 71, 74, 145. 222, 335 
 
 343 
 Henryn.51, 266, 296,364 
 Henry HL 348 
 
 Henry IV, 29, 53, 153, 313, 361 
 Henry V, 74, 154, 156, 302, 313 
 Henry VI, 72,177, 302,306, 307 
 Henry VII, 72, 74, 75, 260, 312, 
 
 351 
 
 Henry VIII, 45, 53, 72, 73, 125, 
 147, 166, 198, 211. 223, 261, 
 272, 279, 280, 281, 282, 310, 
 314, 318, 332, 349, 368, 370, 
 378 
 
 Henry the Timid (see Henry 
 VI.) 
 
 Hentzner, 322 
 
 Hepple white, 135 
 
 Here ward. 110 
 
 Heme's Oak, 149 
 
 Heme Hill, 227, 237 
 
 Heme the Hunter. 149 
 
 Herringbone Masonry, 253, 259 
 
 Hertfordshire. 166, 215 
 
 High Beach, 203, 208, 210 
 
 High St., 9, 44, 54, 113, 213, 
 379 
 
 Hill of Eagles, 286, 288 
 
 Hobbema, 179, 240 
 
 Hobbes. Thomas, 349 
 
 Hobson, Thomas, 128 
 
 Hobson's Choice, 128 
 
 Holbein. 150 
 
 Holinshed, 173, 306 
 
 Ilolmhurst Hill, 161, 174 
 
 Holyhead, 334 
 
 Holy Land. 47. 254, 284 
 
 "Holy Maid of Kent" (see 
 Barton. Elizabeth) 
 
 Home Park, 282, 283 
 
 Hook, Theodore, 277 
 
 Hope Theatre, 224 
 
 Hoppner, 329 
 
 Horse-Chestnut Sunday, 282 
 
 Horseshoe Cloisters, 146 
 
 Hospital. Archbishop Abbot's, 96 
 
 Hospital, St. John's, 378 
 
 Hotel. Abbey. 197 
 
 Hotel. Angel. 81 
 
 Hotel, Gordon, 55 
 
398 
 
 Index 
 
 Hotel, Lion, 99 
 
 Hotel, Pack Horse, 32, 59 
 
 Hotel, Royal Fountain, 358 
 
 Hotel, Talbot, 95 
 
 Hotel, Victoria, 81, 82, 101 
 
 Hounslow Heath, 212 
 
 Howard, Katherine, 272 
 
 Hoxne, 288 
 
 Hudson, Jeffrey, 278 
 
 Huguenots, 269, 379 
 
 Hume, Rev. James, 236 
 Humphrey, "dining with" Duke 
 
 315 
 Humphrey, Duke of Gloucestei, 
 
 302-308, 315, 318 
 Hundred Steps. 148 
 Hunstantone, 285 
 Hunting Lodge. Queen Eliza- 
 beth's, 204, 205. 207 
 Huntingdon. 139, 140 
 Huntingdon, Robin of, 212 
 Hurley Lock, 198 
 Hurlingham, 100 
 Hurlingham Club, 8, 269 
 Hyde, Alice, 347 
 Hyde, Lord Alan de, 347 
 Hyde Park, 3 
 Hyde Park Comer, 274 
 Hythe, 264 
 
 Inn, Fighting Cocks, 179 
 
 Inn, Four Swans, 218 
 
 Inn. Fox-and-Hounds, 89, 277 
 
 Inn, Grey Hound, 29 
 
 Inn, King's Oak. 210 
 
 Inn, Old Ship, 316 
 
 Inn, Peahen, 165 
 
 Inn, Red Lion, 185. 344, 354 
 
 Inn, Star & Garter. 78, 275 
 
 Inn, Sugar Loaf, 350 
 
 Inn, Swan, 277, 355 
 
 Inn, White Hart, 182 
 
 Inn, White Lion, 94, 96 
 
 Inness, George, 355 
 
 Irving, Henry, 363 
 
 Isabella of Hainault, 22, 72 
 Isabella of Parma, 170 
 Island. Eel Pie. 76 
 Island, Formosa, 202 
 Island, Glover, 76 
 Island, Magna Charta, 30 
 Island, Monkey, 22 
 Isle of Dogs, 332 
 Isle of Ely, 108, 109, 127 
 Isle of Thanet, 39. 53, 374 
 Isleworth, 272, 273 
 Isleworth Ferry, 70 
 Islington, 248 
 
 Iceni, 210, 211 
 
 Icknield Way, 335 
 
 Ingoldsby Legends, 51 
 
 Inn, Bear, 90, 91 
 
 Inn, Bell, 105 
 
 Inn, Chequers, 359, 382 
 
 Inn, Clarence, 276 
 
 Inn, Cock, 213 
 
 Inn, Elephant and Castle, 299 
 
 Inn, Falstaff, 382 
 
 Jacqueline, Countess of Hain- 
 ault, 303-305, 348 
 James I., 53, 219. 223, 278, 322 
 James II., 37, 55, 198, 276 
 Janssen, 278 
 Jesus College, 132 
 Joan, Fair Maid of Kent, 365 
 John, King, 49, 53. 127, 145, 209, 
 
 260, 343 
 Jones, Inigo, 227, 322 
 Jonson, Ben, 128, 226, 232 
 
Index 
 
 399 
 
 K 
 
 Kai-ho, 70 
 
 Katherine, Queen, 156 
 Kenningtoa Common, 87 
 Kennington Park, 299 
 Kensington, 82, 270, 323 
 Kensington Gardens, 1 48 
 Kent, 34, 44, 52, 55, 56, 171, 243, 
 
 374 
 Ketul, Ulf, 287 
 Kew (Kew Gardens), 67-71, 211, 
 
 272 
 Khalifa, Flag of, 151 
 Kimbolton, 350 
 King Cole's Castle, 255 
 King Cole's Kitchen, 253. 264 
 King Edward's Tower, 126 
 King John, 49, 53, 127, 145, 209, 
 
 260, 343 
 King, Tom, 212 
 King William Street, 331 
 King's College, 120, 121 
 King's Oak, 145. 210 
 King's Oak Inn, 210 
 King's Parade, 121, 124 
 King's School, 371 
 Kingsbury Palace, 339, 343 
 Kingsley, Henry, 38 
 Kingston, 87, 88, 277 
 Kitchener, Lord, 151 
 Kneller, 151 
 Knut, 215 
 
 La Hogue, 325 
 
 Lady Wooton's Green House, 
 
 380 
 Lambeth Palace, 313 
 Lanfranc, 170, 382, 383 
 Langton, Stephen, 347, 361 
 Lansdowne, Marquis of, 78 
 
 Lauderdale, Duchess of, 276 
 
 Lawrence, Sir Thomas, 151 240 
 
 Lea, River, 208, 210, 214, 215 
 
 Le Bret, 367 
 
 Lee, Sir Henry, 314 
 
 Lee, Sir Richard, 166 
 
 Lee, Sir Robert, 223, 227 
 
 Lely, Sir Peter, 151, 278 
 
 Le Notre, 323 
 
 Leopold, 90, 91, 147 
 
 Lewis, John. 77 
 
 Lexden, 264 
 
 Lincoln, bishop of, 319, 352 
 
 Linley, Rev. Ozias Thurston, 
 
 231, 232, 240, 241 
 Linnaeus, 86 
 Lion Gate, 10 
 Lion Hotel, 99 
 Lisle, 237, 257, 263 
 Lodbrog, Ragnar, 286 
 Lollards, 351 
 Lombards, 88 
 London, bishop of, 319 
 London Bridge, 266, 267 
 London Road, 311 
 London Stone, 170 
 Long Walk, 157 
 Lord Mayor's Drive, 142 
 Lord's (cricket ground), 5 
 Louis, Dauphin of France, 53 
 Louis Vn. of France, 367 
 Lower Green, 91 
 Lucas, 237, 257, 263, 264 
 Luncheon basket, 103, 104 
 Lydgate, 306 
 
 M 
 
 Macaulay, Lord, 90, 328 
 Maes Gwyn, 334 
 Magdalene College, 128 
 Magna Charta, 164, 266, 274 
 
400 
 
 Indecc 
 
 Magna Charta Island, 30 
 Maid of Honor's Garden, 154, 
 
 156 
 Maidenhead, 18-21, 26, 29, 182, 
 
 199 
 Maidenhead Bridge, 29 
 Maiden's Tower, 152 
 Maids of Honor Row, 75 
 Mandeville, Geoffrey de, 198 
 Mandubratius, 252 
 Manor of Pleasaunce, 321 
 Mansfield, Richard, 302 
 Mansion House, 103, 289 291 
 Manuel, Emperor of Constanti- 
 nople, 312 
 Margate steamer, 297, 298 
 Margaret of Anjou, 177 
 Margaret, Queen, 307 
 Market, 98, 116, 164, 213, 351, 
 
 379 
 Marlow, 200 
 Marlowe, Kit, 232 
 "Martyrdom," the, 363, 364 
 Mary, bower of Queen, 1 1 
 Mary, Princess, 147, 370 
 Mary, Queen, 30, 73, 257, 280, 
 
 318, 325, 328 
 Mary Queen of Scots, 73 
 Maske performed at Greenwich 
 
 Palace, 318 
 Masonry, herringbone, 253 
 Master of Fox Hounds, 100 
 Masters, Richard, 377, 378 
 Maud, Empress, 114 
 Mayfair, 4, 248 
 Maze, Hampton Court, 12 
 Medmenham Abbey, 197 
 Medway, River, 36, 38, 39, 48, 52 
 Mercia, 29, 160 
 Mendelssohn, 68 
 Mercury Lane, 359, 381 
 
 Mews, Royal, 157 
 
 Middlesex, 228 
 
 Millais, Sir John E., 144 
 
 Milton, 128, 129 
 
 Miraflores, or Mirefleur, 303 
 
 Molyns, Sir John de, 140 
 
 Monastery Gateway, 218 
 
 Monkey Island, 22 
 
 Montacute, 216 
 
 Montacute, William, Earl of 
 
 Salisbury, 198 
 Montague House, 310, 311 
 Moore, Sir J., 324 
 Morality acted at Greenwich 
 
 Palace, 319 
 More, Sir Thomas, 378 
 Mortimer, 171, 312 
 Mortlake, 270 
 Mozart, 68 
 Murillo, 239 
 Murray, William, 276 
 Museum, Colchester Castle, 258, 
 
 259 
 Museum, Fitzwilliam, 119 
 Museum, Queen Elizabeth's 
 
 Hunting Lodge, 204 
 Mytens, 278 
 
 N 
 Najara, 361 
 Naseby, 344, 348 
 Nash, 225 
 
 Nelson, Lord, 329, 330 
 Newton, Sir Isaac, 128, 325 
 Norfolk, Duke of, 91, 314 
 Norman Conquest (see Conquest) 
 Normans. 25, 44, 49, 52, 80, 98, 
 104, 106, 113, 132, 165, 167, 
 198, 214, 216, 253, 261, 351, 
 371 
 Northcote, 241 
 
Index 
 
 401 
 
 Norwood, 221, 237, 243, 244 
 Northumberland, 272 
 
 O 
 
 Observants, 320, 378 
 Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, 52 
 Offa, King of East Anglia, 160, 
 
 162, 163, 250, 284, 285 
 Old Crome, 355 
 "Old King Cole," 250 
 Old Ship Tavern, 316 
 Olympia, 100, 158 
 Ongar (see Chipping Ongar) 
 Orange, Prince of, 195 
 Orleans House, 276 
 Ouse, River, 114 
 Ovinus, 109 
 
 Oxford "Divinity School," 305 
 Oxford Street, 15 
 Oxford University, 305 
 
 Pack Horse Hotel, 32, 59 
 
 Paddington, 2, 15, 181 
 
 Painted Hall, 329 
 
 Palace Gardens, 296 
 
 Pall, the Crimson, 345, 346 
 
 Palma Vecchio, 119, 279 
 
 Paris Garden, 226 
 
 Paris, Matthew, 164 
 
 Park, Greenwich, 300, 310, 314 
 
 Park, Old Deer, 70 
 
 Parnell, James, 257 
 
 Payne, Tom, 155 
 
 Peahen Inn, 165 
 
 Peckham, 300 
 
 Peele, 232 
 
 Pembroke College, 118 
 
 Pepys, 128, 323 
 
 Pepys, Mary, 237 
 
 Penn, John, 140 
 
 Penn, Thomas, 139 
 Penn, William, 139 
 
 Perth, William of, 275 
 
 Peter, Chaplain, 266 
 
 Peterhouse (see St. Peter's Col- 
 lege) 
 
 Petersham Meadows, 275 
 
 Peto, Father, 321, 328 
 
 Pevensey, 217 
 
 Philip of Spain, 280 
 
 Philippa, Queen, 22, 72, 156 
 
 Philippe, Louis, 90, 276 
 
 Phyllis Court, 185, 186, 189, 
 191, 192, 193, 194, 195 
 
 Piccadilly, 5, 10, 82, 100, 267 
 
 Piers Gaveston.. 170 
 
 Pitt, William, 86, 128 
 
 Placentia, Palace of, 303, 318, 326 
 
 Poitiers, 361 
 
 Pope, 315 
 
 Poplars, legend of, 24 
 
 Port George, 285 
 
 Princess Amelia, 77 
 
 Prior's Gateway, 371 
 
 Priory, Carthusian, 75 
 
 Priory of St. Andrew, 50, 54 
 
 Priory, St. Botolph, 253, 261 
 
 Priory of St. Peter, 343 
 
 Priory of Sheen, 74 
 
 Protector, see Cromwell 
 
 Puritans, the, 45 
 
 Putney, 86, 270 
 
 Putney Bridge, 269 
 
 Putney Heath, 86 
 
 Putney Hill, 86 
 
 Q 
 
 Quarry Hall, 200 
 Quarry Wood, 200 
 Queen Elizabeth's Hunting 
 Lodge, 204, 205, 207 
 
402 
 
 Index 
 
 Queenhythe, 224 
 Queens' College, 123 
 Queen's House, 32!^, 324. 327 
 Queen's Oak, 208, 210 
 Qucntin Matsys, 146 
 
 R 
 
 Rainham. 35-43, 52 
 
 Rainham Vicarage, 40, 41, 42 
 
 Raleigh, 322 
 
 Ranelagh Club, 8, 270 
 
 Ranger's House, 310, 315 
 
 Raphael, 239 
 
 Redcliffe Gardens, 4 
 
 Red Lion Inn, 185, 344, 354 
 
 Reformation, 2G0. 370, 372 
 
 Regale of France, 368, 370 
 
 Regent St., 10 
 
 "Reliance" Coach, 81, 82, 96, 
 
 98, 100, 158, 277 
 Rembrandt. 119, 150, 199, 239 
 Restoration, 281, 314 
 Restoration House, 55 
 Reynolds. Sir Joshua, 78. 239,278 
 Rhododendron Dell. 70 
 Richard, King of Germany, 348 
 Richard, I, 206, 361 
 Richard H, 29, 71, 128, 173 
 Richard HI, 128 
 Richmond, 8, 70-78, 275, 314 
 Richmond Bridge, 76 
 Richmond Palace, 73 
 Richmond Park. 77 
 Richmond Terrace, 78 
 Ridley, 128 
 Ripley, 95 
 
 Robert of Normandy, 52 
 Robin Hood, 12, 139, 143, 212 
 Rochester, 36, 37, 44-56, 97, 106, 
 
 110,262,276,332 
 Rochester Castle, 36, 48-54, 97 
 
 Rochester Cathedral, 45, 106, 
 
 108, 110 
 Roehampton, 84 
 Roman bricks, 166, 253, 375 
 Roman relics, 113, 114, 257 
 Roman Road, 93, 114, 169, 294, 
 
 334, 353, 355 
 Roman station, 80, 160, 173,251 
 Roman Villa, 315 
 Roman Wall, 174, 253 
 Romano, Giulio, 236 
 Romans, 50, 173, 208, 210. 211, 
 
 251, 253, 258, 334, 335, 354 
 Romans, bridge of, 50 
 Romney, 231 
 Roscius, 225 
 Rose Theatre, 223 
 Rothsay, 153 
 Rotten Row, 3 
 Round Church, 132 
 Round Tower, 152 
 Row, Maids of Honor, 75 
 Royal Ascot, 57-66, 157, 158 
 Royal Chapel, 320, 321 
 Royal Enclosure, 61, 63 
 Royal Engineers, 39, 46 
 Royal Forest of Essex, 209 
 Royal Forest of Waltham, 209 
 Royal Fountain Hotel, 358 
 Royal Mews, the, 157 
 Royal Naval College, 327 
 Royal Oak, 27 
 Royal Observatory, 303 
 Rubens, 149, 240 
 Ruijsdael, 240 
 Runnymede, 31, 145 
 Ruskin, 135, 175 
 
 "Sabrina's Stream," 31 
 Sanguelac (see Hastings) 
 
Index 
 
 403 
 
 Salisbury, Earl of, 177 
 Salisbury, William Montacute, 
 
 Earl of, 198 
 Savonarola, 260 
 Saxons, 25, 52, 88, 110, 120, 127, 
 
 138, 165, 208, 215, 253, 262, 
 
 285, 373, 374, 375 
 Saxon church, 109, 29G 
 Saxon doorway, 260, 375 
 St. Albans, 72, 164, 165, 170-173 
 St. Alban's Abbey, 160, 163-180, 
 
 263, 306, 307, 347, 348, 349 
 St. Alban's Cathedral, 165, 180 
 St. Alphege's. 376 
 St. Andrew, Convent of, 373, 374 
 St. Andrew, Priory of, 50 
 St. Anne de Beaupre, 108 
 St. Augustine, 108. 122, 371-370 
 St. Augustine's Abbey, 372. 376 
 St. Awdrey (see Etheldreda) 
 St. Bartholomew's the Great, 3^ 
 
 217 
 St. Benet's Church, 120, 122, 136 
 St. Botolph*s Priory, 261 
 St. Botolph's without Bishops- 
 gate, 227, 228 
 St. Bridget, 51 
 St. Catherine's College, 123 
 St. Catherine's Hall, 99 
 St. Edmund (see Eadmund) 
 St. Edmundsbury, 260, 286, 288 
 St. Ethelbert's Tower, 372 
 St. Etheldreda (see Etheldreda) 
 St. George, Chapel of, 145 
 St. George's Church, 7 
 St. George, Gate of, 368 
 St. George's Hall, 150 
 St. Giles (Camberwell), 228 
 St. Giles (without Cripplegate), 
 
 299 
 St. Giles's Church, 138, 140, 263 
 
 St. John, 345 
 
 St. John's Abbey, 263, 264 
 
 St. John's Church, 262 
 
 St. John's College, 129, 144 
 
 St. John, fraternity of, 344, 347 
 
 St. John's Green, 262 
 
 St. John's Hospital, 378 
 
 St. John's Street, 135 
 
 St. Mary Cole's, 266 
 
 St. Mary's Church, 97, 193 
 
 St. Mary-the-Less, Church of,120 
 
 St. Mary Magdalen, Church of, 
 
 377 
 St. Mary 's-at-the- Walls, 255 
 St. Martin's Church, 375 
 St. Michael's Church, 174, 175, 
 
 176 
 St. Michael, order of, 31!) 
 St. Mildred's Church, 377, 381 
 St. Nicholas almhouses, 383 
 St. Pancras's Church 373, 376 
 St. Pancras (Station), 159 
 St. Paul's, 10, 221, 307 
 St. Paul's School, 318 
 St. Peter-in-Chains, 339 
 St. Peter's College, 119, 133 
 St. Peter, Priory of, 343 
 St. Savior's, 228 
 St. Sepulchre's Church, 132 
 St. Sepulchre, nunnery of, 377 
 St. Stephen's Church, 176 
 St. Thomas a Becket, 267, 360- 
 
 369, 381 
 "St. Thomas's Crown," 371 
 St. Ursula, 251 
 
 Schene or Sheen, 71, 72, 75 
 Schene, Palace of, 72 
 Sheen, Priory of, 74 
 Scheregate Steps, 253, 260 
 School of Naval Architecture, 
 
 327 
 
404 
 
 Index 
 
 Scotland Yard, 213 
 
 Scott, Sir Gilbert, 46, 106, 146 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter, 76, 295, 347 
 
 Senate House, 129 
 
 Senior Wrangler, 129, 131, 133. 
 
 134 
 Seymour, Jane, 147, 281 
 Sexburgii, 109 
 Shakspeare, 175, 184, 224, 225, 
 
 232, 234, 280, 305, 306, 308 
 Sheerness, 37 
 Shelley, 200 
 Sheridan, Mrs., 241 
 Sherwood Forest, 142,212 
 Siddons, Mrs., 239 
 Sigebert, 123 
 Sigismund, 313 
 "Signs," 382 
 Simeon, Abbot, 110 
 Simon de Montfort, 348 
 Sion (Syon), 74 
 Sion Abbey. 272 
 Sion House, 272, 321 
 Skelton, 235, 280 
 Slough, 140 
 Sly, 232 
 Smithfield, 3 
 Snow Hill, 157 
 Somerset, Duke of, 177 
 Somerset House, 268 
 Somerset, Jane, 155, 156, 302 
 Sop well Nunnery, 179 
 Spenser, 119, 128. 129 
 Staines, 28, 31, 32, 59 
 Standard, Essex County, 254 
 Stanislaus, King of Poland, 238, 
 
 239, 241 
 Stanley, Dean, 385 
 Staple, 335 
 
 Star and Garter Inn, 78, 275 
 Station, Bishopsgate, 289 
 
 Station, High Level, 244 
 Station, Liverpool Street, 289 
 Station, Low Level, 247 
 Station, Mansion House, 103, 
 
 289, 291 
 Station, Paddington, 2, 15, 18 
 Station, Roman, 80, 160, 173, 251 
 Station, St. Pancras, 159 
 Station, Victoria. 222 
 Stephen. Abbot of York, 263 
 Stephen, King, 114, 343 
 Stepney. 248 
 Stewart, James, 152, 153, 154, 
 
 155, 150. .302 
 Stoches, Wm., 139 
 Stoke Common, 142 
 Stoke D'Abcrnon, 94 
 Stoke Park, 139. 142, 149 
 Stoke Poges, 120, 137-142 
 Stour, River, 374, 379, 381 
 Strand, the, 219 
 Strand-on-the-Green, 271 
 Strut ford-atte-bow, 292 
 Strawberry Hill, 276 
 Stream of Pleasure, 181, 271 
 Sudbury, Archbishop Simon of, 
 
 362, 379 
 Suetonius, 165, 210, 354 
 Suffolk, 346 
 Suffolk, Duke of, 307 
 Sugar Loaf Inn, 350 
 Surbiton, 88, 89 
 Surrey. 79, 85, 90, 99, 151, 222, 
 
 268 
 Surrey, Duke of, 29 
 Swan Inn, 277, 355 
 Swan Theatre, 224 
 "Sweet Kate," 155, 302 
 Sweyn, 288 
 Swift, 315 
 Sydenham, 243 
 
Index 
 
 405 
 
 Sydenham Hill, 227 
 Sydnam Wells, 242 
 Syences, 71 
 Syon House (see Sion House) 
 
 Talbot Hotel, 95 
 
 Taplow, 29, 30 
 
 Taplow Wood, 21 
 
 Taylor, Ann, 263 
 
 Taylor, Jane, 263 
 
 Taylor, Jeremy, 128 
 
 Taylor, "the water poet," 224 
 
 Temple, the, 3, 135, 268. 328 
 
 Temple Bar, 218, 219 
 
 Temple House, 199 
 
 Temple Lock, 199 
 
 Teniers, 239 
 
 Tennyson, 363 
 
 Terrace Gardens, 76 
 
 Thames Ditton, 277 
 
 Thames, River, 8, 18-33, 59, 73, 
 76, 88, 144, 148, 181, 195-202, 
 205, 223, 265, 266-277, 282, 
 301, 303, 316, 320, 330 
 
 Thanet, Isle of, 39, 53, 374 
 
 Thanet, lord of, 42 
 
 Thetford, 287, 288 
 
 Theobald's Park, 219, 220 
 
 Thomas, Friar, 108, 222 
 
 Thompson, the one-eyed gunner, 
 255 
 
 Thornhill, Sir James, 328 
 
 Tickell, Mrs., 241 
 
 Tilsworth, William, 351 
 
 Titian, 119, 150 
 
 Tonbert, 108 
 
 Touraine, Duke of, 303 
 
 Tovy or Tofig, 215. 216 
 
 Tower, the, 3, 133, 146, 147, 319 
 
 Tower, Bell Harry, 371 
 
 Tower Hill, 262 
 
 Tower, St. Ethelbert's, 372 
 
 Trafalgar, 330 
 
 Triposes, 133 
 
 Trinity Church, 260 
 
 Trinity College, 123, 128 
 
 Trinity Street, 124 
 
 Trooping of the Colors, 7 
 
 Trophy Gate, 277, 282 
 
 Trumpington Street, 124 
 
 Tschaikowsky, 68 
 
 Tupper, Martin, 70 
 
 Turner, 268, 301 
 
 Turpin, Dick, 212, 213 
 
 Twickenham, 276, 314 
 
 Twickenham Ait, 76 
 
 Twickenham Ferry, 276 
 
 Tyburn, 3, 378 
 
 Tyler, Wat, 171, 172, 311, 349,362 
 
 U 
 Ulsig, Abbot of St. Albans. 174, 
 
 176 
 Fpnor Castle. 38, 54 
 " Uranienborg," 324 
 
 Vanbrugh "Castle," 315 
 
 Vanbrugh, Sir John, 315, 316 
 
 Van der Werff, 240 
 
 Van Dyck, 73, 150. 151, 239 
 
 Van Ghent, 37 
 
 Vauxhall, 365 
 
 Velasquez, 239 
 
 Ver. river, 161, 173, 174, 178 
 
 Vernon, Dorothy, 140, 141 
 
 Vernon, Roger, 141 
 
 Veronese, 119 
 
 Vcrulam, 160, 161, 173 
 
 Verulam, Lord, (see Bacon) 
 
 Verulamiuni, 160 
 
40G 
 
 Index 
 
 Victoria Hotel, 81. 82, 101 
 
 Victoria, Queen, G9, 91, 1.50, 
 208, 210, 219, 239, 350 
 
 Victoria, (Station), 222 
 
 Villiers, George, (see Bucking- 
 ham, Duke of) 
 
 Vines Recreation Ground, 54 
 
 W 
 
 Wales, Prince of (see Edward, 
 
 the Black Prince) 
 W'alHnpford, Richard of, 171 
 Walloons, 379 
 
 Walpole. Horace. 242, 27G, 314 
 Walsintjliam. Alan dc, 107 
 Walter, Hubert, 301 
 Wallhain Abbey. 213-217 
 Walthain Blacks, 213 
 Walthani Cross, 218 
 Waltham, Royal Forest of. 209 
 Wall ham Waste. 212 
 Walton. Izaac, 214, .377 
 Wandsworth. 209 
 Wardens. 209 
 
 Warhara, Archbishop, 368, 377 
 Warwick. Earl of, 177 
 Washington. George, tablets of 
 
 family of, 120 
 Waterloo, 87 
 Waterloo Station, 283 
 Waterloo Tree, 258 
 Watling Street, the, 43, 47, 53, 
 
 160. 170. 174. 311, 314, .335, 
 
 350. 368, 376, 
 Watt's Charity House, 55 
 Wayneflete, William of. 91 
 Wealdham, (Waltham), 215 
 Weavers, Canterbury, 378, 381 
 Weldon, Sir Anthony, 53 
 Weldon, Walker, 49, 53, 242. 258 
 Weller, Sam. 42 
 
 Wells, Bishop of, 319 
 
 Wells Cathedral, 215 
 
 Wendover, Roger of, 164. 222 
 
 Wesley, John. 87 
 
 Wessex, Egbert of, 88 
 
 West, Bishop, 112 
 
 West Gate, .358 
 
 Westminster Abbey, 3, 145. 151, 
 198, 301, .362 
 
 Westminster Bridge, 268 
 
 Westminster Palace, 8, 268. 369 
 
 Wey. river, 79. 99 
 
 Wheely, John. 258 
 
 Whetliampstead, 170 
 
 Whethampslead (AbboO. 304 
 
 Whistler. 8, 208 
 
 White Hart Inn, 182, 193. 194 
 
 Whit<> T,ion Inn, 94. 96 
 
 Whitebait, 317 
 
 Whitefield, 87 
 
 Whitehall, 227, 280 
 
 Wick House. 78 
 
 Wilfrid, Bishop of York, 109 
 
 William, the Conqueror (W'illiam 
 of Normandy, — the Incendi- 
 ary, — the Grabber, etc.), 52, 
 80, 108, 110, 127, 145. 170, 205, 
 217 
 
 William. King, 325, 328 
 
 William III. 2S1 
 
 W illiam of Nassau, 198 
 
 William of Perth, 46, 47, 275 
 
 William Rufus, (William the 
 Red, etc.), 52, 262 
 
 William of Wykeham, 145 
 
 Wimbledon Common, 87 
 
 Winchester, Bishop of, 91, 319 
 
 Windle Shore, 27 
 
 Windsor, 8, 27, 28, 29, 31, 144, 
 154, 211, 227. 272. 278. 301, 
 329 
 
Index 
 
 407 
 
 Windsor Castle, 145, 146, l.'iO 
 
 Windsor Forest, 14!), 154 
 
 Windsor Lock, 29 
 
 Windsor Park, 145 
 
 Witanagemot, 88 
 
 Woburn Abbey, MO 
 
 Wolfe, 314 
 
 Wolsey, Cardinal, 72, 73. 91, 219, 
 
 261, 279, 281, 332. 368 
 Wolsey 's Chapel, 148 
 Wolsey 's Closet, 279 
 Wolsey 's Palace, 278, 279 
 "Wooden Spoon," 129, 133, 134 
 
 Woodward, Joan, 227, 233, 236, 
 
 242 
 Wordsworth, 25, 135 
 Wren, Sir Christopher, 106, 219, 
 
 281, 326 
 Wyatt, Sir Jetfry, 146 
 Wyk, De la, 222 
 Wykeham, William of, 362 
 
 Yewden, 196 
 York, Duke of, 177 
 
^^>>^ 
 
 ^'^o^ 
 
 Cj 
 
 
 
 
 xV-' 
 
 ^0 
 
 .A^^' 
 
 
 -'V v 
 
 v^^ -% 
 
 ■^y- <^^ 
 
 A. .r. 
 
 J- ^ 
 
 "- c^^- 
 
 "^.- v-^' 
 
 o 0^ 
 
 
 -.■ ^^ 
 
 
 /- <^'' 
 
 V 
 
 o. 
 
 \-!> "^ci-. 
 
 
 .J- .V 
 
 .^-^ ■^^.. 
 
 "^; 
 
 
 
 0^^ a\ 
 
 'r' 
 
 -^-^ . ' " ' * 
 
 
 :-iS^ . 
 
 -^A V^ 
 
 "c- 
 
 
 o 0^ 
 
 -^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 '?=', 
 
 
 .0 o. 
 
 . ,.x^^"> 
 
 
 
 
 
 \'' ^•»- \ 
 
 
 ^<'^^" 
 
 
 
 •^>. 
 
 .^^^ 
 
 « 
 
 
 \ 1 fl - '/• 
 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i?" 
 
 
 '"'^ 
 
 ■-^' 
 
 "^ 
 
 ■^o 
 
 0^ 
 
 
 
 ' '^^ 
 
 ,A^ 
 
 >^ -^^^ 
 
 .0- 
 
 •/- 
 
 
■-^ 
 
 v>".- 
 
 
 
 
 
 x 
 
 
 
 :^ 
 
 .V' * 
 
 \ 
 
 -?>. y 
 
 '.\^ 
 
 ^ 
 •^^ 
 
 >■ 
 
 .-^ 
 
 
 ^ .^^ '!*,%. 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■^c^. 
 
 -^ 
 ^ 
 
 ..^*' .^ 
 
 \. 
 
 .0' 
 
 
 •^oo^ 
 
 
 
 
 :.^- 
 
 
 v-\-.0^ 
 
 '• ■ A 
 
 
 ^::^ 
 
 r -^ 
 
 '^. .-\^ 
 
 -?■-•, 
 
 
 '\^^ 
 
 .. ''c. 
 
 ,V 
 
 • o 
 
 N^-" '■->. 
 
 v\^ 
 
 .'?-■ 
 
 
 'c 
 
 
 \^' 
 
 -^^ 
 
 "oO^ 
 
 ■> 
 
 
 %.^V' 
 
 
 \1^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 xOo. 
 
 A. .r. 
 
 
 
 c^. 
 
 -!>. 
 
 ■^ -^^ 
 
 ^. 
 
 .*^, 
 
 
 /.^