His hunger being somewhat stayed, Sir Francis now found leisure to
consider the young man who had so greatly befriended him, and, as a
means of promoting conversation between them, began by filling his glass
from a flask of excellent Bordeaux, of which, in spite of Cyprien's
efforts to prevent him, he had contrived to gain possession. The young
man acknowledged his courtesy with a smile, praised the wine, and
expressed his astonishment at the wonderful variety and excellence of
the repast, for which he said he was quite unprepared. It was not Sir
Francis's way to feel or express much interest in strangers, and he
disliked young men, especially when they were handsome, as was the case
with his new acquaintance; but there was something in the youth that
riveted his attention.
From the plainness of his attire, and a certain not unpleasing rusticity
of air, Sir Francis comprehended at once that he was fresh from the
country; but he also felt satisfied, from his bearing and deportment,
that he was a gentleman: a term not quite so vaguely applied then, as it
is now-a-days. The youth had a fine frank countenance, remarkable for
manly beauty and intelligence, and a figure perfectly proportioned and
athletic. Sir Francis set him down as well skilled in all exercises;
vaulting, leaping, riding, and tossing the pike; nor was he mistaken. He
also concluded him to be fond of country sports; and he was right in the
supposition. He further imagined the young man had come to town to
better his fortune, and seek a place at Court; and he was not far wrong
in the notion. As the wily knight scanned the handsome features of his
companion, his clean-made limbs, and symmetrical figure, he thought that
success must infallibly attend the production of such a fair youth at a
Court where personal advantages were the first consideration.
"A likely gallant," he reflected, "to take the fancy of the king; and if
I aid him with means to purchase rich attire, and procure him a
presentation, he may not prove ungrateful. But of that I shall take good
security. I know what gratitude is. He must be introduced to my Lady
Suffolk. She will know how to treat him. In the first place, he must
cast his country slough. That ill-made doublet of green cloth must be
exchanged for one of velvet slashed in the Venetian style like mine own,
with hose stuffed and bombasted according to the mode. A silk stocking
will bring out the nice proportions of his leg; though, as I am a true
gentleman, the youth has so well formed a limb that even his own
villainous yarn coverings cannot disfigure it. His hair is of a good
brown colour, which the king affects much, and seems to curl naturally;
but it wants trimming to the mode, for he is rough as a young colt fresh
from pasture; and though he hath not much beard on his chin or upper
lip, yet what he hath becomes him well, and will become him better, when
properly clipped and twisted. Altogether he is as goodly a youth as one
would desire to see. What if he should supplant Buckingham, as
Buckingham supplanted Somerset? Let the proud Marquis look to himself!
We may work his overthrow yet. And now to question him."
After replenishing his glass, Sir Francis addressed himself in his
blandest accents, and with his most insidious manner, to his youthful
neighbour:--
"For a stranger to town, as I conclude you to be, young Sir," he said,
"you have made rather a lucky hit in coming hither to-day, since you
have not only got a better dinner than I (a constant frequenter of this
French ordinary) ever saw served here--(though the attendance is
abominable, as you must have remarked--that rascally Cyprien deserves
the bastinado,); but your civility and good manners have introduced you
to one, who may, without presumption, affirm that he hath the will, and,
it may be, the ability to serve you; if you will only point out to him
the way."
"Nay, worthy Sir, you are too kind," the young man modestly replied; "I
have done nothing to merit your good opinion, though I am happy to have
gained it. I rejoice that accident has so far befriended me as to bring
me here on this festive occasion; and I rejoice yet more that it has
brought me acquainted with a worthy gentleman like yourself, to whom my
rustic manners prove not to be displeasing. I have too few friends to
neglect any that chance may offer; and as I must carve my own way in the
world, and fight for a position in it, I gladly accept any hand that may
be stretched out to help me in the struggle."
"Just as I would have it," Sir Francis thought, "The very man I took him
for. As I am a true gentleman, mine shall not be wanting, my good
youth," he added aloud, with apparent cordiality, and affecting to
regard the other with great interest; "and when I learn the particular
direction in which you intend to shape your course, I shall be the
better able to advise and guide you. There are many ways to fortune."
"Mine should be the shortest if I had any choice," the young man
rejoined with a smile.
"Right, quite right," the crafty knight returned. "All men would take
that road if they could find it. But with some the shortest road would
not be the safest. In your case I think it might be different. You have
a sufficiently good mien, and a sufficiently good figure, to serve you
in lieu of other advantages."
"Your fair speech would put me in conceit with myself, worthy Sir," the
young man rejoined with a well-pleased air; "were I not too conscious of
my own demerits, not to impute what you say of me to good nature, or to
flattery."
"There you wrong me, my good young friend--on my credit, you do. Were I
to resort to adulation, I must strain the points of compliment to find
phrases that should come up to my opinion of your good looks; and as to
my friendly disposition towards you, I have already said that your
attentions have won it, so that mere good nature does not prompt my
words. I speak of you, as I think. May I, without appearing too
inquisitive, ask from what part of the country you come?"
"I am from Norfolk, worthy Sir," the young man answered, "where my life
has been spent among a set of men wild and uncouth, and fond of the
chase as the Sherwood archers we read of in the ballads. I am the son of
a broken gentleman; the lord of a ruined house; with one old servant
left me out of fifty kept by my father, and with scarce a hundred acres
that I can still call my own, out of the thousands swept away from me.
Still I hunt in my father's woods; kill my father's deer; and fish in my
father's lakes; since no one molests me. And I keep up the little church
near the old tumble-down hall, in which are the tombs of my ancestors,
and where my father lies buried; and the tenantry come there yet on
Sundays, though I am no longer their master; and my father's old
chaplain, Sir Oliver, still preaches there, though my father's son can
no longer maintain him."
"A sad change, truly," Sir Francis said, in a tone of sympathy, and with
a look of well-feigned concern; "and attributable, I much fear, to riot
and profusion on the part of your father, who so beggared his son."
"Not so, Sir," the young man gravely replied; "my father was a most
honourable man, and would have injured no one, much less the son on whom
he doated. Neither was he profuse; but lived bountifully and well, as a
country gentleman, with a large estate, should live. The cause of his
ruin was that he came within the clutches of that devouring monster,
which, like the insatiate dragon of Rhodes, has swallowed up the
substance of so many families, that our land is threatened with
desolation. My father was ruined by that court, which, with a mockery of
justice, robs men of their name, their fame, their lands, and goods;
which perverts the course of law, and saps the principles of equity;
which favours the knave, and oppresses the honest man; which promotes
and supports extortion and plunder; which reverses righteous judgments,
and asserts its own unrighteous supremacy, which, by means of its
commissioners, spreads its hundred arms over the whole realm, to
pillage and destroy--so that no one, however distant, can keep out of
its reach, or escape its supervision; and which, if it be not uprooted,
will, in the end, overthrow the kingdom. Need I say my father was ruined
by the Star-Chamber?"
"Hush! hush! my good young Sir," Sir Francis cried, having vainly
endeavoured to interrupt his companion's angry denunciation. "Pray
heaven your words have reached no other ears than mine! To speak of the
Star-Chamber as you have spoken is worse than treason. Many a man has
lost his ears, and been branded on the brow, for half you have uttered."
"Is free speech denied in this free country?" the young man cried in
astonishment. "Must one suffer grievous wrong, and not complain?"
"Certes, you must not contemn the Star-Chamber, or you will incur its
censure," Sir Francis replied in a low tone. "No court in England is so
jealous of its prerogatives, nor so severe in punishment of its
maligners. It will not have its proceedings canvassed, or its judgments
questioned."
"For the plain reason, that it knows they will not bear investigation or
discussion. Such is the practice of all arbitrary and despotic rule. But
will Englishmen submit to such tyranny?"
"Again, let me counsel you to put a bridle on your tongue, young Sir.
Such matters are not to be talked of at public tables--scarcely in
private. It is well you have addressed yourself to one who will not
betray you. The Star-Chamber hath its spies everywhere. Meddle not with
it, as you value liberty. Light provocation arouses its anger; and once
aroused, its wrath is all-consuming."