It gives one a slight idea of the extent of the huge structure to know that therein are one hundred stairways and eleven hundred rooms! Visitors are shown the “King’s Robing-room,” the “Victoria or Royal Gallery,” the “Prince’s Chamber,” and so many rooms and corridors, that it is impossible to remember them all, or even to appreciate them at the time of a visit. Fine wall paintings, statues, and rich decorations of all kinds abound. Both the rooms where sit the House of Peers and the House of Commons, respectively, are magnificent apartments; perhaps the former is rather more splendid in appearance, with its stained-glass windows picturing all the English sovereigns, its frescoes, and throne, with the gilded canopy.
As they finally passed out and started over toward Westminster Abbey, Mrs. Pitt said:
“It was at one of these entrances (perhaps at the very one by which we just left), that a most curious thing happened in 1738. It had just been decided that ladies should no longer be permitted in the galleries of the Houses. Certain noble dames who were most indignant at this new rule, presented themselves in a body at the door. They were, of course, politely refused admission, and having tried every known means of gaining entrance, they remained at the door all day, kicking and pounding from time to time. Finally, one of them thought of the following plan. For some time they stood there in perfect quiet; some one within opened a door to see if they were really gone, whereupon they all rushed in. They remained in the galleries until the ‘House rose,’ laughing and tittering so loudly that Lord Hervey made a great failure of his speech. Wasn’t that absurd? It seems that there were ‘Suffragettes’ long before the twentieth century.”
Arrived at the Poets’ Corner once again, they found that one of the vergers was just about to conduct a party “in behind the scenes,” as Barbara called it. “Behind the scenes” includes the Chapel of Henry VII and that of Edward the Confessor, besides the many smaller ones which surround the choir.
These little irregular chapels are crowded with all sorts of tombs, from those of the long effigy to those of the high canopy. Sometimes a husband and wife are represented on the tomb, their figures either kneeling side by side, or facing each other. Often the sons and daughters of the deceased are shown in quaint little reliefs extending all around the four sides of a monument. The figures are of alabaster or marble, and there are frequently fine brasses on them which bear the inscriptions. It is interesting to remember that the effigy or reclining figure of a Crusader always has the legs crossed.
A flight of black marble steps leads up to Henry VII’s Chapel. Betty thought this reminded her a little of the choir of St. George’s Chapel at Windsor,—and it is true that the two are somewhat similar. To build this memorial to himself, Henry VII tore down another chapel, and also an old house in which the poet Chaucer once lived. The loveliest feature of this chapel is the “fan-tracery” of the ceiling. Its delicacy and grace are very beautiful! There are wonderfully carved oak choir-stalls here also, each having been assigned to a certain Knight of the Order of the Bath, and decorated with the Knight’s armorial bearings. Above each stall is a sword and a banner of faded colors. The tomb of the founder, Henry VII, and of his wife, Elizabeth of York, is in the center of the chapel, and surrounded by a brass screen. George II and several members of his family, Edward VI, Charles II, William and Mary, Queen Anne and her consort, and Cromwell, are all buried near by—most of them having no monuments. In the north aisle of this chapel is the tomb of the great Queen Elizabeth, and just opposite it, in the south aisle, is that of her cousin and enemy, poor Mary Queen of Scots.
Just behind the high altar is the chapel of Edward the Confessor, containing the once splendid, mediæval tomb of that sainted King. Its precious stones have been stolen away now, and the whole is covered by a gorgeous cloth put there at the coronation of Edward VII.
“I’ve seen the tombs of so many kings and queens,” exclaimed John, heaving a sigh, “that I truly can’t take in any more. Why, they’re so thick all around here that you can’t move without bumping into three or four of ’em! There’s Henry V, and overhead the shield and helmet he used at Agincourt; and here’s Edward I, and Richard II, and Edward III, and Queen Eleanor, and Queen Philippa. Who was she? Oh, here’s the old Coronation Chair, isn’t it?” At sight of this, he once more became interested.
This famous old chair was made in the time of Edward I, and every English sovereign since that day has been crowned in it. Underneath the seat of the chair is kept the ancient Stone of Scone, which is said to have been used as a pillow by the patriarch Jacob. Edward I, in 1297, brought the stone from Scotland as a sign of his power over that country, and placed it in the Abbey. King Edward III’s sword and shield-of-state stand beside the chair. There is something about these three objects which makes one stand long before them. They are so ancient—so deeply impressive—and embody so much of English history itself.
In a little room above one of the smaller chapels are found the curious Wax Effigies. These figures made of wax, and of life size, were carried at funerals, and were intended to look like the deceased, and dressed in their clothes. They are very ghastly, robed in their faded, torn garments, as each peers out from its glass-case. Queen Elizabeth, Charles II, William and Mary, Queen Anne, General Monk, William Pitt, and Lord Nelson are among those represented.