“I think this Cedar Room is very beautiful,” remarked Mrs. Pitt, as they stepped into that apartment. “Do you see that the walls are entirely of cedar wood from floor to ceiling? Isn’t the effect rich, and doesn’t it smell good? Do you notice the fine carving, and the pictures,—some of Van Dyck’s best works? Oh! I must not call your attention to so many things all at once!”
In the Green Drawing-room, the Red Drawing-room, the State Bed-room, and the various other rooms and corridors, are priceless treasures of art; for besides invaluable paintings by the greatest masters, there are here beautiful pieces of furniture, made of tortoise-shell and inlaid with gold or pearl, and ancient marriage-chests, which once belonged to Italian princesses of bygone days. The armory contains one of the most valuable collections in England, and in the State Bed-room are many relics of Queen Anne. One really wearies of so much costliness which it is utterly impossible to appreciate at one visit.
“Haven’t we time to walk in the gardens a little longer?” asked Barbara, wistfully. To her, Nature was nearer and dearer than all the wonders of art and history.
After a ramble through the bewitchingly lovely gardens,—going across ancient drawbridges, spanning long-unused, grass-grown moats; under little postern-gates; into rustic grottoes—they at last came to the conservatory, in which is preserved the “Warwick Vase.” This is made of white marble, carved with various devices.
“It has a curious history,” answered Mrs. Pitt, in reply to the children’s questions. “In 1770, some workmen found it at the bottom of a small lake which is about sixteen miles from Rome. Of course, it is not possible to determine with any certainty how it came to be there, but as Hadrian’s Villa was in A.D. 546 occupied by a king of the Goths, an enemy who was then laying siege to Rome, it has been thought that the vase was cast into the lake, to save it from the hands of the invaders. The second Earl of Warwick was its purchaser.”
Slowly and unwillingly they wended their way back through the gardens, to the central court of the castle, and then out under the old gateway.
“My!” cried John, “it must have taken heaps of soldiers to defend a place like this in the Middle Ages! I wish I’d been here when it was just plumb full of great warriors,—when the moat had water in it, the drawbridge worked, and sentinels called out to you for the password as you came near the gate. I suppose they could peep out at you from those little windows up high, too.” John looked longingly back, as they walked away.
“Oh, yes!” continued Mrs. Pitt, in tones which made the girls shudder. “From those windows they rained shot down upon the enemy. And there are little slits in the wall from which men poured boiling metal or tar upon those besieging the castle. Upon the roof of Guy’s Tower there, it is thought that a huge machine used to stand,—a machine for slinging down great stones. Oh, yes; there were dungeons here, too,—deep, dark, damp, and evil-smelling dungeons, into which many prisoners were thrown. Why, it was from here that Piers Gaveston, the unfortunate favorite courtier of Edward II, was taken out and executed upon a hill close by. Underneath the fine halls where splendid banquets were carried on, out of sight and reach of the fair gardens and lawns, there were always poor prisoners who were shut away from the daylight for years perhaps, and laboriously carving crests or verses in the stone walls, to while away the hours.”
Mrs. Pitt suddenly burst into peals of laughter as she saw the pained expressions upon the faces of the two girls; then a glance at the rapt, enthusiastic attention of John, caused her to become serious again.
“Never mind, girls,” she said gravely. “Such things are now gone forever; people have advanced too far in their ideas to ever permit of more of those unjust acts and horrible punishments. I can never believe that the world isn’t growing daily better! And, boys, it is all very well to love and long for the golden deeds and knightly ideals of the men of mythical King Arthur’s Court, for instance; read about them all you can, and try to imitate them, but never wish back the terrible conditions of warfare and brutality which existed at the time. The kindly thoughts and acts will endure always, but the rest,—never!”