As they congregate about this rallying-point, they seem the very genii of idleness; and, in their listless indifference, above the doings and events of this work-a-day world.

Here a fellow, with his beaver c.o.c.ked, and swaggering gait, throws out his arm, in order to display a cloak of three-piled velvet, whilst his toes are seen peeping from the foot of an ample russet boot. There a comrade, evidently "a horse of the same colour," an "affected fantastico," points a toe in att.i.tude, twists a moustache with a grace, plays off a gauntlet with a flourish, and struts "like chanticleer i'

the sun." These are the magnificoes of the walk. Then come a crowd of under-strappers, whose vocation is in their very look, who even play their parts hourly, and _live_ in character--either aping the grandee, the gallant, the swaggerer, or the lisping idiotic driveller; the clowns and jesters making up the file.

Each speaks with an accompanying gesture, and walks with a circ.u.mstance.

Some have a sort of sad hilarity, and utter dull jokes with a grave brow, or laugh _in a sort_. They even wear a ceremonious observance towards each other, and look upon the world in general in an inferior light. The free-masonry of bombast is rife amongst the fellowship. If one hands the tankard to his fellow, standing with mine host beneath the porch, he does so with a flourish, and receives it again cross-handed.

In short, as they are seen congregated about their haunt, or place of call, they seem uninterested in the common-place events of the world as other men. Their ideas are inflated and dreamy; their world, their kingdom, is their theatre, and their lives felt to be but pa.s.sed whilst they strut their hour before the admiring throng. "The best actors in the world, either for scene individable, or poem unlimited." "Seneca could not be too heavy, nor Plautus too light for them." Whilst these characters walk and talk, flourish and att.i.tudinize, a trumpet sounds from the roof of the round building first described, at which some amongst them seem to start like the war-horse aroused; others pay their shot to mine host; others again wave a hand gracefully to the buxom landlady at the latticed window; and all take their way to the theatre.

They are indeed summoned to prepare for the scenic hour, to rehea.r.s.e their parts--such as those parts are.

Amongst these men there were, as we have hinted, some individuals of a superior stamp, men of high attainments, considering the period in which they lived, and who, finding no vent for the talents they were in possession of, pa.s.sed their hours amongst the choice spirits of the Globe.

There was a romance in the lives of some of these latter, in keeping with their appearance; and one or two had attempted a higher flight, and endeavoured to improve the style of dramatic composition. Nor had they altogether failed, for many dramas had been written by them possessing real and absolute excellence.

Scarce half-an-hour had elapsed after the trumpet sounded from the Globe, when a man pa.s.sed through the various portals upon London Bridge; and, as chance directed, turning to the left upon the Surrey side of the river, quickly took his way amongst the ancient buildings then lining the bank.

Wearied and faint from lack of food--for he had been all day wandering through the streets of London,--he stopped beside the Norman structure, built during the crusades by William Pont de l'Arche, and called St-Mary Ouer.

The curious in antiquities will, we fear, look in vain for any vestige of this remnant of the early English, which nevertheless, in Elizabeth's day, with its church and monastery, extended down to the very edge of the Thames.

Leaning upon his staff, undecided in which direction to turn his steps, Shakespeare stopped beside the dark walls of this ancient edifice; and, after gazing upon the building with interest for some moments, entered the porch of the old monastery.

Whilst he remained there, several cavaliers on horseback rode past--gay youths, tricked out in all the extravagance of that age of extravagant costume; their loud laughter, and joyous converse, as they careered along, shewing that their spirits were gay as their habits. They came from the bridge over which he himself had just crossed, and took their way along the ma.s.sive wall then skirting the antique buildings of Winchester Place.

Whilst Shakespeare continued to remark the several parties occasionally pa.s.sing, he also observed that boats, containing companies of ladies, also put into a small landing-place near at hand; and these latter parties took the same direction the hors.e.m.e.n had gone.

The beauty of the evening, the fresh air from the river, the monastic grandeur of the old buildings, and the cheerful appearance of the various companies he at the moment beheld, somewhat revived his drooping spirits. He felt it impossible to be quite unhappy, whilst all around was gay, and the scene so lovely.

Listlessly he continued to watch the various boats; and as the parties disembarked and pa.s.sed on, in their thoughtless hilarity, he arose, and bent his steps in the same direction.

He pa.s.sed through the open field along that strong b.u.t.tressed wall, then inclosing Winchester Place; and a few paces brought him to the close vicinity of a building, around which several persons at that moment were congregated--the Globe Theatre. The place and scene altogether interested him, and again he stopped to observe the throng, and which, as it altogether presented a somewhat singular appearance, we shall ourselves stop with him to observe.

The entrance of the building was accommodated with benches on either side, on which were seated various of the hangers-on of the establishment, and one or two of the actors, waiting for their call.

Amongst those, a couple of clowns or fools were conspicuous; and as they uttered their witticisms, and performed divers tricks, for the amus.e.m.e.nt of themselves and their companions, they collected an audience without, which frequently recruited those within--cracking their jokes, and familiarizing themselves with the various companies as they came up.

These were, indeed, the all-licensed fools of the time, and without whose presence and aid no performance was considered perfect; they bore off, in some sort, the tedium of the long dialogue then in vogue.

Whilst Shakespeare stood to regard the scene before him, the flourish of drum and trumpet within the building recalled those motley-minded gentry and their companions to their various duties; and at the same moment a gay party of mounted cavaliers approached, dismounted, and entered.

Still that tired stranger, as he stood beside the portals of the theatre, continued to feel an interest in all that was going on there.

The merry glance of the citizen's wife, as she pa.s.sed in,--the answering look of the gallant as he followed,--the gay and flaunting party from the Court-end of the town,--the loud laugh, the sharp rebuke, the coa.r.s.e jest, the retort courteous, and the counter-check quarrelsome,--all were there.

By-and-by a couple of cavaliers, splendidly mounted and magnificently apparelled, came galloping up. They dismounted at the door, and the one nearest Shakespeare threw the rein of his steed to him, and desired him to hold the horse, at the same moment thrusting a silver coin into the youth's hand. His companion meanwhile had confided his charger to the care of one of the employes of the theatre, and the next moment both these gallants were within the Globe. They had pa.s.sed so quickly, that Shakespeare found himself in possession of the coin and the steed, ere he had time fully to observe the person of the cavalier who had favoured him with his custody.

As he looked at the money, a slight blush tinged his cheek, but he repressed the feeling of shame which at first intruded itself, as he reflected the money was honestly come by. He then looked more curiously upon the n.o.ble animal intrusted to his charge.

Pa.s.sionately fond of a horse, like most men bred and born in the country, he examined its points with interest. It was in truth a n.o.ble animal, answering in every point the description he has himself given of a perfect courser:

"Round hoofed, short-pointed, fetlocks s.h.a.g and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, High chest, short ears, straight legs, and pa.s.sing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad b.u.t.tock, tender hide.

Look, what a horse should have, he did not lack."

Pulling the arched neck of the n.o.ble steed, he then led him towards the man holding its fellow.

"Know you the owner of this goodly horse?" he inquired.

The man was evidently a sort of character, a swaggerer who wished to pa.s.s for a gentleman and a soldier, albeit his elbows were ragged, and his whole dress patched and furbished up.

"Know I Master Edmund Spencer?" he said, looking contemptuously upon Shakespeare. "Where canst thou have lived, boy, to ask the question.

Best inquire me next for the rider of _this_ nag, Sir Walter Raleigh.

Thou knowest not the choice spirits of the Court. Ergo, thou art strange to the town."

"I am, in sooth, a stranger to the town," said Shakespeare; "but a few hours old in it."

"And from whence?" inquired the other.

"From Warwickshire," returned Shakespeare.

"The county I know," returned the other; "my grandsire was of Warwick, eke also. Hast coin in pouch, camarado mine?"

"I have," said Shakespeare, producing the silver piece given him by Spenser the moment before.

"Ha!" said the other, "then will we adventure to yonder hostel in search of liquor and food wherewith to repair ourselves, for sooth to say thou lookest both pale and hungry. Come ye of the Ardens of Warwickshire?"

"One way I do," said Shakespeare. "But Arden is not my name. Call me William."

"'Tis no matter," said the other; "thou art a proper fellow of thy hands, and I have taken a fancy for thy companionship. Lead on thy steed good William; a cup of Canary and a toast will cheer thee."

And thus did Shakespeare make a friend and procure the refreshments he so much required, and with the poor player sitting beside him on the bench, whilst they held the horses beneath the tree, under the influence of "the good familiar creature, wine," he unbosomed himself to this new comrade.

"I will befriend thee in all I can," said the player, and who in truth, being but a sorry stick, was himself rarely employed, "I will myself advocate thy fortunes, good rustic," he continued. "I do spy in thy face and figure marvellous proper attributes for certain parts, for the which we are in want of actors. Ah, by Apollo! thou hast the limbs, and thews, and form, to captivate the fancy of ladies fair."

CHAPTER XLI.

THE TAVERN REVEL.

The general aspect of London in the reign of Elizabeth is so singular when contrasted with the same great metropolis of our own day, that we must again refer to it.

The houses in the heart of the city, like those in the suburbs, were still chiefly built of wood, or of wood and brick; the poverty of their appearance being the more apparent from their being, ever and anon, relieved by the stately and ma.s.sive building of former days. The dark monastery, the ma.s.sive wall, or the castellated edifice, were constantly to be seen amidst streets so crooked and narrow, and so dismal from the abutments overhead, that foreigners, as they threaded their way, and amidst damp and wind, are said to have likened London to the vale of death. In wet weather the streets were especially dismal, and so prevalent were consumption and pestilence that bonfires were oft-times kindled in order to purify the air and avert the plague. Nay, even kites and ravens were to be seen hopping about the various thoroughfares, being kept by many inhabitants for the purpose of devouring the filth.

Nothing, indeed, could well exceed the contrast during Elizabeth's reign between the splendid, though somewhat barbaresque, magnificence of the mansions of the n.o.bles and gentry, and the houses of the commoner sort of people. Yet still, although the houses of the citizens were for the most part poor and ill-contrived, yet every now and then would be found amongst them, the dwelling of some richer trader which broke the uniformity of the general ma.s.s; such edifice having a quant.i.ty of gable ends at all heights and in all directions, with chimneys of fantastic shape and profuse ornament, and covered with decorations; the mult.i.tudinous frames in its windows completed the picture.

These were the dwellings of some of the merchant-princes of the town, whose strongly-barred and iron-studded doors showed that where wealth was to be found defence was necessary against the lawless spirits roaming through the dark thoroughfares at hand.

Another contrast to the filthy, unpaved, and uncared-for state of the streets and thoroughfares at this period, was the costly style in which many of the houses were ornamented on any occasion of rejoicing or pageantry. At such times every window and pent-house was garnished with banners and strips of tapestry, or hung with rich fragments of velvet, damask, or silk, whilst the city functionaries and the various companies "in robe and furred gown," and attended by a host of proper fellows, apparelled in silk and chain of gold, contributed to make up the show.

On the morning which followed the night Shakespeare made acquaintance with the poor player he awoke in a small, low roofed apartment in the upper floor of the hostel of the Globe. He felt himself considerably refreshed, and rising from his truckle bed he threw open the window and looked forth upon the well wooded hills of Surrey, It was a pleasant picture at that time, and the inn itself, being of considerable size, presented a stirring and bustling scene. Immediately beneath him was the ample stable-yard, with long rows of out-buildings and sheds appropriated to the varieties of cattle usually driven from the country on certain days of the week, the horses of the carriers being on one side, and the stabling for those of travellers of a better sort on the other. Then there were other buildings appropriate to the large quant.i.ties of poultry which it was customary at this period to rear, besides the ample dove-cot, which stood beyond the bowery garden, and which harboured such flights of pigeons that their rush through the air was heard at considerable distance as they wheeled and circled about.