Part 18

The country around Lewes is hilly and rather devoid of trees. It is broken in many places by chalk bluffs, and the chalky nature of the soil was noticeable in the whiteness of the network of country roads. Many old houses are still standing in the town and one of these is pointed out as the residence of Anne of Cleves, one of the numerous wives of Henry VIII. Near the town and plainly visible from the tower is the battlefield where in 1624 the Battle of Lewes was fought between Henry VII and the barons, led by Simon de Montfort. Lewes appears to be an old, staid and unprogressive town. No doubt all the spirit of progress in the vicinity has been absorbed by the city of Brighton, less than a dozen miles away. If there has been any material improvement in Lewes for the past hundred years, it is hardly apparent to the casual observer.

We were now in a section of England rich in historic associations. We were nearing the spot where William the Conqueror landed and where the battle was fought which overthrew the Saxon dynasty--which an eminent authority declares to have done more to change the history of the Anglo-Saxon race than any other single event. From Lewes, over crooked, narrow and rather rough roads, we proceeded to Pevensey, where the Normans landed nearly a thousand years ago. It is one of the sleepy, unpretentious villages that dot the southern coast of England, but it has a history stretching far back of many of the more important cities of the Kingdom. It was a port of entry in early times and is known to have been in existence long before the Romans came to Britain. The Romans called it Anderida, and their city was situated on the site of the castle. Like other Sussex towns, Pevensey lost its position as a seaport owing to a remarkable natural movement of the coast line, which has been receding for centuries. When the Conqueror landed the sea came up to the castle walls, but now there is a stretch of four miles of meadowland between the coast and the town.

The castle, rude and ruinous, shows the work of many centuries, and was really a great fortress rather than a feudal residence. It has been in a state of decay for many hundreds of years, but its massive walls, though ivy-grown and crumbling, still show how strongly it was built. It is now the property of the Duke of Devonshire, who seeks to check further decay and opens it to the public without charge.

[Illustration: PEVENSEY CASTLE, WHERE THE NORMANS LANDED.]

Battle, with its abbey, is a few miles from Pevensey. This abbey marks the site of the conflict between the Normans and the Saxons and was built by the Conqueror on the spot where Harold, the Saxon king, fell, slain by a Norman arrow. William had piously vowed that if he gained the victory he would commemorate it by building an abbey, and this was the origin of Battle Abbey. William took care, however, to see that it was filled with Norman monks, who were granted extraordinary privileges and treasure, mostly at the expense of the conquered Saxons. The abbey is one of the best preserved of the early monastic buildings in England, and is used as a private residence by the proprietor. The church is in ruins, but the great gateway, with its crenelated towers, and the main part of the monastic building are practically as they were when completed, shortly after the death of the Conqueror.

Battle Abbey, since the time of our visit, has passed into the possession of an American, who has taken up his residence there. This case is typical of not a few that came to our attention during our stay in England. Many of the historic places that have for generations been in the possession of members of the nobility have been sold to wealthy Americans or Englishmen who have made fortunes in business. These transactions are made possible by a law that permits entailed estates to be sold when the owner becomes embarrassed to such an extent that he can no longer maintain them. And some of these places are sold at astonishingly low figures--a fraction of their cost. It is another of the signs of the changing social conditions in the British Empire.

A quaint old village is Winchelsea, on the coast about fifteen miles from Battle. It is a small, straggling place, with nothing but its imposing though ruinous church and the massive gateways of its ancient walls remaining to indicate that at one time it was a seaport of some consequence. But here, as at Pevensey, the sea receded several miles, destroying Winchelsea's harbor. Its mosts interesting relic is the parish church, built about 1288. The greater portion of this is now in ruins, nothing remaining but the nave, which is still used for services. In the churchyard, under a great tree, still standing, John Wesley preached his last open-air sermon.

[Illustration: WINCHELSEA CHURCH AND ELM TREE.]

Two miles from Winchelsea is Rye, another of the decayed seaports of the southeast coast. A few small fishing vessels still frequent its harbor, but the merchant ships, which used to contribute to its prosperity, are no longer seen. It is larger than Winchelsea and is built on a hill, its steep, narrow streets being lined with quaint houses. These two queer towns seem indeed like an echo from the past. It does not appear that there have been any changes of consequence in them for the past several hundred years. People continue to live in such villages because the average Englishman has a great aversion to leaving his native land. One would think that there would be emigration from such places to the splendid lands of Western Canada, but these lands are not being taken by Englishmen, although the opportunity is being widely advertised by the Canadian Government and the various transportation companies. And yet one can hardly wonder at the reluctance of the native Englishman to leave the "tight little island," with its trim beauty and proud tradition, for the wild, unsubdued countries of the West. If loyal Americans, as we can rightly claim to be, are so greatly charmed with England, dear indeed it must be to those who can call it their native land.

Winchelsea and Rye are typical of hundreds of decayed towns throughout the Kingdom, though perhaps they are more interesting from an historic standpoint than the others. Being so near the French coast, they suffered terribly in the continual French and English wars and were burned several times by the French in their descents upon the English coast. It was nearly dark when we reached Rye; we had planned to stop there, but the uninviting appearance of the hotel was a strong factor in determining us to reach Tunbridge Wells, about thirty miles away.

We saw few more beautiful landscapes than those which stretched away under the soft glow of the English twilight from the upland road leading out of Rye. We did not have much leisure to contemplate the beauty of the scene, but such a constant succession of delightful vistas as we dashed along, together with the exhilaration of the fresh sea breeze, forms a pleasing recollection that will not be easily effaced. The twilight was beginning to fade away beneath the brilliancy of the full moon when we ran into the village of Bodiam, where stands one of the most perfect of the ancient castellated mansions to be found in the Kingdom. We paused a few minutes to view it from a distance and found ourselves directly in front of a neat-looking hotel--the Castle Inn. Its inviting appearance, our desire to see the castle more closely, and the fact that Tunbridge Wells was still a good many miles away over winding roads liberally sprinkled with steep hills, led us to make Bodiam our stopping place. There are few things that we have more reason for rejoicing over, for we saw the gray walls and towers of Bodiam Castle under the enchanting influence of a full, summer moon.

The castle was built in 1385 and appears to have been intended more as a palatial residence than a feudal fortress. Its position is not a strong one for defense, being situated on a level plain rather than upon a commanding eminence, as is usually the case with fortified castles. It was built after artillery had come into use, and the futility of erecting a structure that would stand against this new engine of destruction must have been obvious. The most remarkable feature is the wide moat which surrounds the castle. In fact, this gives it the appearance of standing on an island in the middle of a small lake. The water of the moat was nearly covered by water-lilies.

The walls of the castle are wonderfully complete, every tower and turret retaining its old-time battlements. It is supposed never to have sustained an attack by armed forces and its present condition is due to neglect and decay. From our point of view, it must have been an insanitary place, standing in the low-lying fens in the midst of a pool of stagnant water, but such reflection does not detract from its beauty. I have never seen a more romantic sight than this huge, quadrangular pile, with its array of battlements and towers rising abruptly out of the dark waters of the moat. And its whole aspect, as we beheld it--softened in outline by the mellow moonlight--made a picture that savored more of enchantment than reality.

Although the hour was late, the custodian admitted us to the ruins and we passed over a narrow bridge which crossed the moat. The pathway led through a door in the great gateway, over which still hangs suspended the iron port-cullis. Inside there was a grassy court, surrounded by the walls and ruined apartments of the castle. I ascended one of the main towers by a dilapidated stone stairway and was well repaid for the effort by the glorious moonlit prospect that stretched out before me.

When we returned to the Castle Inn, we found the landlady all attention and she spared no effort to contribute to our comfort. The little inn was cleanlier and better kept than many of the more pretentious ones. Bodiam is several miles from the railroad and but few tourists visit the castle. The principal business of the hotel is to cater to parties of English trippers who make the neighborhood a resort for fishing and hunting.

An early start from Bodiam brought us to Tunbridge Wells before ten o'clock in the morning. This city, although of considerable size, is comparatively modern and has little to detain tourists. Like Harrogate and Bath, its popularity is largely due to its mineral springs. In its immediate neighborhood, however, there are many places of interest, and we determined to make a circular tour among some of these, returning to Tunbridge Wells for the night.

[Illustration: ENTRANCE FRONT BODIAM CASTLE, SUSSEX.]

A few miles from Tunbridge Wells is Offham, a little, out-of-the-way village which boasts of a queer mediaeval relic, the only one of the kind remaining in the Kingdom. This is called a quintain post and stands in the center of the village green. It consists of a revolving crossbar on the top of a tall, white post. One end of the bar is flattened and pierced with small holes, while at the other a billet of wood is suspended from a chain. The pastime consisted of riding on horseback and aiming a lance at one of the holes in the broad end of the crossbar. If the aim were true, the impact would swing the club around with violence, and unless the rider were agile he was liable to be unhorsed--rough and dangerous sport, but no doubt calculated to secure dexterity with the lance on horseback. This odd relic is religiously preserved by the village and looks suspiciously new, considering the long period since such a pastime must have been practiced. However, this may be due to the fact that the tenant of an adjoining cottage is required by the terms of his lease to keep the post in good repair, a stipulation, no doubt, to which we owe its existence.

In Westerham, a few miles farther on, we saw the vicarage where Gen. Wolfe, the hero of Quebec, was born. His parents were tenants of this house for a short time only, and soon after his birth they moved to the imposing residence now known as Quebec House, and here Wolfe spent the first twelve years of his life. It is a fine Tudor mansion and has been little altered since the boyhood of the great warrior. Visitors are not now admitted. There are many relics of Wolfe in Westerham, and the spot where he received his first military commission is marked by a stone with an appropriate inscription. Wolfe's memory is greatly revered in England and he is looked upon as the man who saved not only Canada, but the United States as well, to the Anglo-Saxon race.

Quite as closely connected with American history as Quebec House is the home of William Pitt, near at hand. Holwood House, as it is called, is a stately, classic building, situated in a great forest-clad park. It passed out of the hands of Pitt more than a hundred years ago, and being in possession of a private owner, is no longer open to visitors.

Passing again into the hedge-bordered byways, we came to Downe, a retired village four miles from the railway station and known to fame as having been the home of Charles Darwin. Downe House, where he lived, is still standing, a beautiful old Eighteenth Century place which was considerably altered by Darwin himself. The house at present is evidently in the hands of a prosperous owner, for it was apparent that watchful care is expended upon it. But it is in no sense a show-place and the few pilgrims who come to the town must content themselves with a glimpse from the outside.

To get a view of the place, I surreptitiously stepped through the open gateway, the house itself being some distance from the road and

## partially concealed by the hedges and trees in front of it. It is a

rather irregular, three-story building, with lattice windows surrounded by ivy and climbing roses. It stands against a background of fir trees, with a stretch of green lawn and flowers in front, and the whole place had an air of quiet beauty and repose. On the front of the house was an ancient sun-dial, and across it, in antique letters, the legend "Time will show." I do not know whether this was placed there by Darwin or not, but it is the most appropriate answer which the great scientist might have made to his hosts of critics. Time has indeed shown, and the quiet philosopher who lived in this retired village has revolutionized the thought of the civilized world.

XIX

KNOLE HOUSE AND PENSHURST

One of the greatest show-places of England is Knole House, the seat of the Sackville-Wests, near Seven-Oaks. The owner at the time of our visit was the Lord Sackville-West who was British ambassador at Washington, where he achieved notoriety by answering a decoy letter advising a supposed British-American to vote for Grover Cleveland as being especially friendly to England. The letter created a tremendous furor in the United States, and the result was the abrupt recall of the distinguished writer from his post.

No difficulty is experienced in obtaining admission to Knole House, providing one pays the price. The thousands of tourists who come annually are handled in a most businesslike manner. An admission fee of two shillings, or about fifty cents, is charged, and at numerous stands near the gateway photographs, post cards, souvenirs and guide-books galore are sold. Motor cars are allowed to drive right up to the great gateway, where they are assigned a position and supervised by an attendant, all for the sum of one shilling. However, the show is well worth the price, and the owner of the palace is entitled to no small credit for making it so readily accessible.

The house is a fine example of the baronial residences erected just after the period of fortified castles, when artillery had rendered these fortress-mansions useless as a means of defense. It surrounds three square courts and covers about five acres; it contains three hundred and sixty-five rooms and has seven great staircases, some of them very elaborate. The collection of paintings and mediaeval furniture is one of the best in England. The pictures are of untold value, one room being filled with originals by Gainsborough and Reynolds alone. Some idea of the value of these pictures may be gained from the fact that an offer of twenty thousand pounds for one of the Gainsboroughs was refused; and there are other pictures quite as valuable, not only by English masters, but by great continental artists as well.

King James I visited Knole House and preparations were made to receive him as befitted his rank. The immense stateroom was especially furnished for the occasion at a cost, it is said, of about one hundred thousand pounds. This room has never been used since and it stands today just as it did when it served its royal occupant, though the gorgeous hangings and tapestries are somewhat dingy and worn from the dust and decay of three hundred years.

It took nearly two hours to go through the parts of the house that are shown, although the parties were accompanied by guides who kept them moving along. On the afternoon of our arrival there were quite a number of visitors, five motor cars and several carriages bringing them. Knole House stands in a large park, which has the finest beeches in England, and it is really more of a show-place than a family residence. The Sackville-Wests are among the richest of the nobility and have other homes which are probably more comfortable than this impressive but unhomelike palace.

[Illustration: PENSHURST PLACE, HOME OF THE SIDNEYS.]

Something similar to Knole House is Penshurst Place, about ten miles away, but with an atmosphere and traditions quite different from the Sackville-West mansion. This great palace, just adjacent to the village of Penshurst, was built in the Thirteenth Century, passing shortly after into the hands of the Sidney family, with whom it has remained ever since. Of the Sidneys, one only is known wherever the English language is spoken--the gallant young knight, Sir Philip, who, when still below the age of thirty, lost his life while fighting for a forlorn cause in the Netherlands. Of all the brilliant array of statesmen, soldiers and writers who graced the reign of Queen Elizabeth, none gave greater promise than did young Sidney. Nothing is more characteristic of him than the oft-told story of how, when suffering from his death-wound on the field of Zutphen, he gave to a wounded soldier by his side the cup of water brought to him with the greatest difficulty. There are few who have received a higher or a more deserved tribute than that of the poet Watson, when he mused upon

"the perfect knight, The soldier, courtier, bard in one, Sidney, that pensive Hesper-light O'er Chivalry's departed Sun."

Naturally, we were interested in the ancestral home of such a man and the many historical associations which have gathered round it. It was at the close of a busy day for us when we reached Penshurst and learned that half an hour remained before the house would be closed for the day. Admission was easily gained and ample time given to inspect such parts of the house as were shown. We entered the great park through a gateway near the church where several members of the Sidney family are buried.

The palace stands in a large open space with a level lawn in front, and the five hundred years which have passed over it have dealt kindly with it. Few of the ancient places which we had seen in England were in better state of preservation. Nor was this due so much to restoration as in many cases. It had never been intended as a fortified castle and had escaped the ravages of war which destroyed so many of the strongholds. Its most striking feature is the baronial hall with its high, open-raftered roof, maintained in general appearance and furnishing much as it was five hundred years ago. It is of great size, and in early days the tables probably furnished cheer to hundreds of revelers at a time. At one end of the room is a gallery which the musicians occupied, and at the other, our attention was called to a small opening through which the lord of the establishment could secretly witness the doings in the hall. A remarkable feature is the fireplace, situated in the center of the room and without chimney of any kind, the smoke being left to find its way out through the windows or apertures in the roof, as the case might be--a striking example of the discomforts of the good old days when knighthood was in flower.

Queen Elizabeth, who was one of the greatest royal travelers of her time, made a visit to the home of her favorite, Sidney, and the drawing room which she honored as a guest is still shown, with much of the handsome furniture which was especially made for the occasion of Her Majesty's visit. On the walls are some examples of beautifully wrought needlework and satin tapestry which tradition says is the work of the queen herself and her maidens. In the picture gallery the majority of the paintings are portraits of the Sidney family.

From Penshurst we returned to Tunbridge Wells, having covered in all about one hundred miles since leaving that town--not a very long distance for a day's motoring, but we had seen more things of interest, perhaps, than on any other day of our tour. It was a fitting close to our tour, since we had determined that we would at once return to London and bid farewell to the English highways and byways. The next morning we spent a short time looking about Tunbridge Wells. This town has been known as a watering place since 1606 and has maintained great popularity ever since. Its unique feature is the promenade, known as "The Pantiles," with its row of stately lime trees in the center and its colonade in front of the shops. It is referred to in Thackeray's "Virginians," and readers of that story will recall his description of the scenes on the Pantiles in the time of the powdered wigs, silver buckles and the fearful and wonderful "hoop." Tunbridge Wells makes a splendid center for several excursions and one might well spend considerable time there. Our trip of the previous day had taken us at no time more than thirty miles from the town and had covered only a few of the most interesting places within that distance.