Thomas D. Murphy - British Highways And Byways From A Motor Car

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[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.

We were ready to leave Tunbridge Wells before noon, and it was with
feelings of mingled satisfaction and regret that we turned toward
London, about thirty miles away. Our long summer's pilgrimage through
Britain was over. Despite our anxiety to return home, there was, after
all, a sense of regret that we had left undone much that would have been
well worth while. Our last day on the English country roads was a lovely
one. A light rain had fallen the night before, just enough to beat down
the dust and freshen the landscape. We passed through a country thickly
interspersed with suburban towns. The fields had much the appearance of
a well kept park, and everything conspired to make the day a pleasant
recollection.

When we came into the immediate suburbs of London, I found that the
knowledge I had gained on our frequent trips gave me a great advantage
in getting into the city. I was able to avoid the crowded streets and to
select those where traffic was lighter, thus reducing the time of
reaching our hotel fully an hour. There is much difference in the
traffic on the eight bridges which cross the Thames. London Bridge,
which crosses near the Bank of England, is the most congested of all.
There is hardly an hour when it is not a compact mass of slowly moving
vehicles. The bridge by Parliament House is less crowded, but I should
say that Waterloo Bridge furnishes the best route for motorists in
getting across the river. It leads directly into the new boulevard known
as Kingsway, which has just been completed at an expense of many
millions of pounds. This is the broadest street in London and was opened
by wholesale condemnation of private property. It is little used for
heavy traffic and has a fine asphalted surface. It extends from the
Strand to Holborn, the two principal business arteries of London. The
street now presents a rather ragged appearance on account of the
buildings that were torn down to make way for it. However, new
structures of fine architecture are rapidly being built and Kingsway is
destined to become one of the handsomest boulevards in the world.

A little after noon we reached our London hotel, having spent ten weeks
in touring England, Wales and Scotland. We had not confined ourselves to
the highways, but had journeyed a great part of the distance through
less frequented country roads. In fact, many of the most charming places
we had visited could be reached only from the byways and were not
immediately accessible from railway stations. With the exception of the
first two weeks, when we had rain more or less every day, we had been
favored with exceptionally fine weather. During the last seven or eight
weeks of our trip, only light showers had fallen and we were assured
that the season had been an unusual one for England.

The matter of weather is not of great moment to the motorist in Great
Britain. The roads are not affected in the least, so far as traveling
is concerned, and dashing through the open air in a rain is not an
unpleasant experience. A closed top for the car is rarely necessary.
Plenty of waterproof coats and coverings answer the purpose very well
and the open air is much pleasanter than being cooped up in a closed
vehicle. Rubber tires do not slip on good macadam roads and during our
tour it was necessary to use chains on the wheels only a few times.

Altogether, the experience was worth while; nor was it so expensive as
many have imagined it to be. A party of three or four people with their
own car, if one of them drives, can tour Britain for less than it would
cost to cover the same ground, traveling first-class, by railway train.
As to the comparative satisfaction derived from the two methods of
touring, no comment whatever is needed. Making the trip by motor affords
so many advantages and so many opportunities of seeing the country and
of coming in touch with the people that there is really no other method
that can in any way compare with it.

XX

SOME MIGHT-HAVE-BEENS

In closing this desultory record of a summer's motoring in Britain, I
can easily see that a great deal was missed, much of which might have
been included with little or no loss of time had we been well enough
informed in advance. There were cases where we actually passed through
places of real interest only to learn later that we had overlooked
something that might well have engaged our attention. There were other
points, readily accessible from our route, which we omitted because
previously visited by rail; and though many of these places we should
have been glad to see again, our limited time forbade. In order to get
all that should be gotten out of a five-thousand-mile tour by motor car,
one would have to be familiar indeed with England's history and
traditions, as well as conversant with her literature. There is little
opportunity for studying hand-books as one goes along. A few weeks of
preparation, of well selected reading and the study of road-books and
maps would make such a tour doubly valuable in saving time and in an
intelligent understanding of the country and the places worth seeing.
What one should have done he will know far better after the trip is
over, and the main excuse for this modest record is that it may supply
in popular form some data from the experience of one who has been over
part of the ground, while the superb illustrations of the volume will
give a far better idea of what awaits the tourist than the mere written
words.

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