William Shakespeare as he lived - Part 52
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Part 52

Nevertheless, as he placed him in the cabin of the English vessel, he could scarcely fail to observe his extreme beauty; and as the lad came to himself, and thanked his preserver, the player found, by his accent, that the lad was English born.

Commending him, therefore, hastily to the care of some of the sailors at hand, (as his ear again caught the wild huzza of the victors,) the player again sprang upon the deck of his own ship, and the next moment was once more amidst the scene of death and slaughter--enveloped in smoke and fire--deafened with the roar of guns, and in the midst of crashing timbers and falling spars.

The Spanish galleon had been captured ere he again reached her decks; but still on went those English red-handed from slaughter to slaughter, "with ladies' faces, and fierce dragon's spleens," they a.s.sailed ship after ship of the squadron they had become entangled with, and night only arrested the terrible encounter.

Awful indeed is the destructive power of man, when once his rage is let loose upon his fellow. Those stately Spanish vessels, covered with gilding and ornament, and which had come heaving upon the wave, stately in movement, and beautiful in appearance as a bevy of swans, were now dismantled wrecks, blackened, half burnt, and, as if tortured into madness by their swift enemies, they vomited forth their fire at random, their shot flying over the heads of their adversaries, and hurting each other in the confusion of the scene.

In other parts of the engagement the English had been equally industrious; and had it not been for the gross mismanagement of those in authority, and through whose parsimony the ships ran short of ammunition, the success would have been instantly followed up; as it was, the parsimony of the Queen might have cost her her crown, for thrice were the English baulked in the midst of success for want of ammunition, and obliged to take advantage of wind to get out of fire, and as often did they return, like avengers, to smite and destroy.

The sequel of this glorious contest is too well known for us to dwell upon; only so far as it bears upon our story have we followed it. To that poor player, the intrepidity of demeanour, the confidence in the love of her subjects, and the activity and foresight of the royal Tudor, was not lost. He saw of what his own countrymen were capable; and when he dipped his pan in his own heart, and described deeds of knightly fame, he wrote as he felt.

The n.o.ble Howard of Effingham, profiting by the faults of the Duke of Medina, and the difficulties experienced by the Spanish seamen in manoeuvring their floating castles, made a terrible example of the enemy, and all around is crushing ruin, flight, and pursuit. Those ships which were scattered he followed, and the whole fleet of Medina was already vanquished and flying, when the elements effected the rest.

"So, by a roaring tempest as the flood, A whole Armada of collected sail Is scatter'd and disjoined from fellowship."

It was during the continuance of tho storm which followed, and whilst the few Spaniards who returned to their own sh.o.r.es were filling the ears of their countrymen with reports of the desperate valour of the English, and the tempestuous violence of the ocean which surrounded them, that two solitary travellers took their way along the old Kent road leading from Sandwich to Canterbury. Having quitted the ships in which they had arrived at the old Cinque Porte town, the two wayfarers were now making their way towards the metropolis.

In our own times they would have come under the denomination of strollers, since one of them was in reality an actor, and, in the form of the other who walks by his side, our readers must recognise the youth rescued during the preceding action with the Armada.

Light is the step and joyous the voice of that player. It almost cheers the heavy heart of the melancholy lad, his companion. Nay, it does, in some sort, apparently chase from his memory some rooted sorrow; for the large glowing orbs of the boy are oft-times turned towards the player as he speaks, and his step becomes more firm as they proceed.

Scarce a mile has been traversed from the town, ere the eye of the player catches sight of a gray and ma.s.sive ruin on his right, and the steps of both are turned towards it.

Long lingered their footsteps beside that magnificent relic, and deeply ponders the player upon the surrounding scene.

His companion listened to his words with breathless interest. The glittering helmets of the cohorts of Rome seem to pa.s.s within the arena.

Nay, the spirit of the Roman, who reared the fortress, like a rock, upon that elevation, eighteen hundred years before, seems still to pervade the spot. There--where the thistle rears its lonely head, and the long gra.s.s of centuries waves in the wind--the shadowy forms of the imperial soldiery seem to glide by.

"And such," said the youth, as he listened to the words of his companion, "is in truth the impression felt in each locality where the pick and spade of the Roman has left trace of his conquering arm. The feelings you have just described, the shadowy remembrance such locality seems to conjure up, I have oft-times felt whilst at Clopton."

The player started. "At Clopton?" he said, as he looked curiously at the expressive countenance of his companion. In both there was a sort of dreamy recollection of having met before. "At Clopton, boy? True, there is a Roman trench in the park there. And so, then, thou knowest fair Warwickshire?"

The youth sighed,--his usual answer when his companion, during their short acquaintance, had inquired his history. "I do," he said.

"And know you Stratford-upon-Avon?" inquired the player.

"But too well," answered the youth, again sighing.

"Ah," said the player thoughtfully, "then well may I."

"And wherefore?" said the lad, looking archly in his face.

"I was born there," returned the player. "Have friends, wife, children at Stratford."

"And your name?" inquired the youth.

"Shakespeare, for fault of a better," said the player. And the pair soon afterwards left the Roman ruin and wended on towards London.

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE PLAYER AT COURT.

And now a new epoch seems to have arrived, and England (for the time being) may indeed be called "_merrie England_." The good old days of good Queen Bess are now in full force. The nation seems like a burly giant, who, lately weighed down by some heavy disease, and which it required all the strength of his const.i.tution to surmount, suddenly finds himself again in health and strength.

"Now he breathes again, and can give audience to any tongue, Speak il of what it may."

The enjoyment of the sometime invalid is tenfold from the sudden rebound. Earth and sea, air and sky, look doubly beautiful, and each hour is one of enjoyment. The whole nation revels in the excitement and the joyous feelings consequent upon its deliverance from a fearful yoke.

The antic.i.p.ation of dishonour, torture, and slavery, are no more. The overweening Spaniard, "that Armado hight," has been smitten with deadly vengeance, and all care is thrown to the winds. The Queen, the courtiers, the soldiers, sailors, citizens, nay, all the realm are dancing a galliard through the country. And of all those dancers none danced more vigorously, or cut higher capers, than the royal Tudor herself and her dancing chancellor, Sir Christopher Hatton.

"Full oft within the s.p.a.cious walls, When he had fifty winters o'er him, My grave lord-keeper led the brawls, And seals and maces danced before him.

His bushy beard, and shoe-strings green, His high-crowned hat and satin doublet, Moved the stout heart of England's Queen, Though Pope and Spaniard could not trouble it."

Leicester, Ess.e.x, Raleigh, and Hatton, the especial gallants of the Court, "glittering in golden coats like images," are amongst those revellers.

In London and its environs, bear-baitings, bull-baitings, masques, morris dancers, theatrical exhibitions, and all sorts of diversions filled up the hours.

Great crowds of n.o.blemen and gentlemen (who had met the Queen on her landing at Westminster after the dispersion of the Armada) attended her to St. James's Palace, and, day after day, entertained her, "all furnished, all in arms," with tilts and tourneys.

Fully did the English at this moment appreciate the merits of their Queen. She was extolled, glorified, and almost deified in the exuberance of their joy and loyalty.[23]

[Footnote 23: Stow mentions a little jobbing tailor who absolutely went mad for love of, and died glorifying the perfections of the Queen.]

Oh that it came within the compa.s.s of our pen to describe the appearance of the Court. To introduce our reader, but for one short hour, within the walls of the palace; amidst that throng of princely gentlemen and stately dames cl.u.s.tered around one of the most gifted and extraordinary women that ever wielded a sceptre. Alas! the times are so changed, that the might, the magnificence of royalty, the grandeur of the scene within, and the halo shed around even the precincts of the palace, can scarcely be understood. The stately forms of the bearded yeomen; the glitter of the halbert, and the flash of weapons amidst tower and turret; the emblazoned doublet; the measured tread of men-at-arms on every post, and port, and pa.s.sage; the lounging pages and servants, who throng the courts and offices; the hundreds of hangers-on upon royalty at this joyous period. The very sacred character of much that pertained to a palace seems to have vanished. The bold grandeur of the times seem to have departed with those cloistered and embattled buildings and the stately beings who inhabited them.

The very precincts of the Court,--the "whereabout of royalty," seemed invested with a sacred character during the reign of Elizabeth. The stern grandeur which pervaded tho habitations of the terrible Harry, her father, still surrounded the various dwellings of the no less majestic daughter.

Our readers must now imagine the Court in all its splendour at that old palace whose gateway and flanking towers still bear the cognizance and initials of the burly Harry; not as now, however, where the echoes of the drum and trumpet which rings and rattles out upon occasion of pomp and parade, reverberated from the goodly dwellings and ample streets by which it is neighboured.

St. James's palace, in Elizabeth's day, stood in the open country. It had been built upon the site of the dissolved hospital of St. James, by the bluff King, and its b.u.t.tressed walls were surrounded by a sort of chase or park, the grounds of which to the north were, for the most part, wet and marshy. The heron flapped his wing in the pool where now the Green Park is situated, and amidst the tall trees upon the hill, at present called Bond Street, the deer couched in the fern. It was indeed a picturesque and n.o.ble building, exceeding handsome, as a writer of the sixteenth century describes it, built of brick, embattled for defence, and surrounded at the top with crenelles, the chase always green, and in which the Court can walk in summer. Indeed, every part around St.

James's, built upon and populated as it now is, at the period of our story was the occasional haunt of Queen Elizabeth, where she rode, walked, and meditated, considered her household affairs, or disported with her ladies, her courtiers, and her lovers.

And what a picture did the scene without the palace exhibit a few weeks after the dispersion of the Armada, and whilst many of these n.o.blemen and gentry, who, at the moment remained in London, were in constant attendance upon the Queen, and endeavouring to outshine each other in their devices and designs.

It is near the hour of noon; the sun shines upon tower and turret, and glances bright upon the arms of the various sentinels upon rampart and gateway. Within, the courtyard is crowded with men-at-arms and persons of all ranks pa.s.sing in and out. And amongst these are the stately forms of many whom the page of history has had occasion to tell of. In the park without, numerous youthful cavaliers are careering about, mounted upon steeds splendidly caparisoned, whilst a mounted guard of honour stands enranked about a bow-shot in front of the princ.i.p.al entrance.

Huntsmen and falconers too, bedight with the royal arms, their greyhounds in couples, and other dogs of the chase, are seen amidst the clank of arms, as the sentinels are relieved. Nay, the perfume of the scented courtiers pervade the air as they dismount and enter the palace.

The steaming smell of hot dishes and savoury viands also salute the nostril, as cooks, scallions, servitors, and pages, are seen in the inner court leading from the kitchen, as the hour approaches for the royal banquet.

Shift the scene to the interior, and a magnificent sight strikes the eye, "the presence strew'd." The walls are hung with rich tapestry, and on either hand are the n.o.bles of the Court, "a glittering throng." The Queen is about to pa.s.s through, and all are bare-headed. What a picture do those men present! Cloaked, ruffed, and rapiered, their Very apparel and arms studded with jewels, their bearded faces, so celebrated for manly beauty,--for the Queen loves to look upon the handsomest men the age can produce,--and limbs, and thews, and features, are sure to find favour in her sight. Whilst the n.o.bility stand thus enranked, (many of lesser note at the bottom of the chamber,) a gentleman usher, dressed in velvet, with a golden chain, suddenly appears, the doors are thrown open, and the majestic Tudor is announced as at hand.

First come forth, with proud step and reared heads, some of those lately so celebrated in the "world's debate." Bare-headed, they have had especial and private audience in the presence. Raleigh, with hawk's eye and aquiline features, his very spirit glancing as he looks good-naturedly, but haughtily around. Then Ess.e.x, majestic in mien and regal-looking in demeanour, and seeming to carry on his dress the cost of whole manors. Then Leicester, splendid in person and dress, but with somewhat of a restless, uneasy, and sinister expression; dark as a gipsy, and so haughty and unbending in demeanour, that his countenance freezes the blood in the gazer's veins, and yet withal wearing a sort of smile, ever and anon, to shew his pearly teeth; his hand plays nervously with the hilt of his jewelled poniard, as he bows to the several n.o.bles he recognises. And so they file in, and fall into line on either hand.

And now, whatever of conversation, amidst the a.s.semblage, has been going on, suddenly ceases; and each man standing erect, and with his embroidered cloak advanced somewhat over the left arm, the one hand upon the rapier's heavy hilt, the plumed hat in the other--with eyes of expectation, await the moment of the Queen's appearance. A flourish of twelve trumpets and two kettle-drums immediately ring and rattle out; the battle-axes of the gentlemen-at-arms are lowered; and, lo, the Majesty of England has pa.s.sed the door.