On the day previous to the events described in the last chapter,
and the morning subsequent to the review at Tilbury, there sat
together, in Essex House, and in an upper chamber, looking out on
the river, two individuals, who conversed with each other with
great earnestness. One of these was the Earl of Essex himself;
and the other, though of a mean and slovenly appearance, which
(for he was yet scarcely thirty) assorted ill with his years,
was a person no less distinguished: it was the immortal but
despicable Francis Bacon.
They had been conversing for some time, and, at the moment
at which it is deemed advisable to take cognizance of their
conversation, the young Earl, irritated at something Bacon had
said, was speaking with some vehemence.
“Think’st thou, then, thy kinsman Burleigh shall thwart me,
Francis?” he said. “Be of good heart! An’ my voice can speed
thee, no other than thou shall be Attorney-General.”
“I thank your Lordship,” answered Bacon. “Yet do I know right
well, from what I have heard, that both my uncle Burleigh, and my
gentle cousin, Sir Robert, will plead hard for another.”
“Give them no heed,” returned Essex. “Thou shalt have the office;
but, meanwhile, as I do nought without requital, thou must render
me a small service.”
“That will I gladly, my dear Lord,” said Bacon.
“Thou must even let me present thee with my little manor at
Twickenham, then,” cried Essex. “Psha, now! no words! ’T is not
worth a word!”
He caught up the philosopher’s hand while he spoke, and, as a
princely smile suffused his lip, seconded his munificent proposal
with his looks.
“Oh, my Lord! ’t is worth full three thousand pounds!” said Bacon.
“Tut, a pin!” laughed the Earl. “’T is thine, an’ thou lovest me!
But some one comes. No more words, now!”
Master Bacon, though he was evidently greatly moved, would
probably have spoken further, notwithstanding the young Earl’s
request; but before he could give utterance to his sentiments,
a servant opened the chamber-door, and two cavaliers, about
the middle age, and of graceful and prepossessing appearance,
thereupon pushed in.
“See, see, my Lord Rutland,” cried the foremost cavalier to the
other; “if we have not caught him with philosophy, let me die!
Thou hast lost thy wager!”
“And prithee what doth the wager affect, my Lord Bedford?” cried
Essex, with a smile.
“Rutland here, in his exquisite conceit, wagered me thou hadst
departed for Portsmouth,” answered the Earl of Bedford. “The
wager is no less than ten angels.”
“Give thee joy of it!” said the Earl of Rutland. “I had rather
lose the angels, than lose my gossip’s company to Portsmouth.”
“I’faith, now,” cried Essex, “thou makest me sorry that thou hast
lost. I am simply waiting for Hal Tracey, and then I am off.”
“We will with thee, then,” cried the other two Earls together.
“Thanks, thanks!” returned Essex. “I volunteer with Drake. Who
serve you with?”
“Oh, Drake!” answered Rutland. “And if we fight bravely, he hath
promised us, by way of guerdon, a jorum of liquor anon, at the
sign of the ’Three Jolly Mariners.’”
This announcement drew from his auditors a loud laugh, but the
speaker himself, with a happy craft, looked quite grave, as
though he considered the promised guerdon a matter of moment.
While the laughter was yet in progress, the chamber-door, which
was right behind Rutland, was again opened, and another cavalier
entered.
“All hail, lag-behind!” cried Rutland, glancing at the new comer.
“Lag-behind in thy teeth, slanderous peer!” answered the person
addressed. “I should have been here an hour agone, only that that
gossiping wight, Squire Harrington, met me on the way; and who
could ever break from him?”
“None, none, I’ll warrant thee, good Cromwell!” said the Earl of
Bedford. “But, prithee, tell us Master Harrington’s news. How
many fair ladies hath he given over for lost?”
“As thou art courteous, I will even tell thee,” answered Lord
Cromwell. “He hath advised me, first, that fair Mistress
Throckmorton hath a mortal passion for Sir Walter Raleigh”----
“Oh! oh!” cried Rutland.
“Peace, brawler!” resumed Cromwell. “Second, that my Lady
Nottingham, for some hidden reason, is affronted with my Lord
Essex. Third, that my Lady Warwick hath given her lord”----
“What?” cried Rutland.
Lord Cromwell was silent.
“An heir, mayhap?” said the Earl of Essex.
“A _hare?_ fie!” answered Cromwell. “A deer would mark nearer.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” roared Bedford and Rutland.
“Now, fie on thee, talebearer!” cried Essex, yet smiling. “We
must be on our guard against thee. But who comes now?”
The door opened as he spoke, and loud cries of “Sweet Hal Tracey!
good Hal!” in which he himself joined, greeted the person who
entered.
Sir Henry Tracey--for such was the real designation of the new
comer--answered this welcome in the same spirit, and saluted each
of the company separately. That done, he turned to Essex, and,
with a familiarity that, of its single self, denoted them to be
on the most intimate relations, drew him aside.
“Art ready to depart?” he inquired.
“I wait only for thee, Hal,” answered Essex.
“Then, in good sooth, we will even go round by Durham House, and
call for Sir Walter Raleigh,” said Tracey.
The Earl changed colour. “What mean’st thou?” he demanded. “Have
not I told thee, over and over again, that Sir Walter likes me
not?”
“And have not I told thee, with the same perseverance, that thou
wast misled?” returned Tracey. “Let me tell thee what he did last
even. He was bidding farewell to her Highness, and she, with many
loving words, was thanking him that he had that morning done
her a good service, by helping her with her horse, when, to the
admiration of the court, Sir Walter denied the service was his,
and affirmed it was rendered by my Lord Essex. Nay, hear me out!
Her Highness, on the outset, would not have it so; but, by and
by, Sir Walter did make his words apparent, and righted thee at
his own cost. Was this like an enemy?”
“By my hand, no!” exclaimed the impetuous Earl. “Say no more
on’t. We will even call for him, and be friends.”
While he was engaged in preparing to carry his purpose into
effect, the distinguished personage whom he proposed to visit,
like himself, was meditating a journey to Portsmouth. He had just
equipped himself for his expedition, when, after a preliminary
knock on the door, a servant entered the library, where he was
sitting, and solicited access for Sir Robert Cecil.
“Bring him hither quickly,” answered Sir Walter.
Sir Robert Cecil, who had followed the servant unperceived up the
stairs, and was listening at the door, overheard what was said,
and thereupon entered unbidden.
“Worthy Sir Walter, give thee good morrow!” he cried, with a
smile. “I had feared thou hadst set forth for the fleet, and I
have that to tell thee, on the part of my Lady Nottingham, which
must hold thee here a space longer.”
“It must be a matter of moment, then, gentle Sir Robert,” said
Raleigh. “Prithee, what doth it import?”
“Briefly, then, last even,” replied Cecil, “young Henry Tracey,
being at court, advised her Ladyship he would this morning bring
hither the Earl of Essex, and make you friends again.”
Sir Walter Raleigh coloured. “I’faith, I thank good Tracey for
his friendly intents,” he said; “but be thou assured, gentle Sir
Robert, they will fail him. The Earl will not come.”
“Well, an’ he do, do thou make up with him,” answered Cecil; “and
I beseech thee, as I have lost favour with him in thy service,
commend me also to his Lordship. By my troth, his ill-report hath
done me grievous detriment.”
“An’ he come here, I will have you friends,” returned Raleigh.
“But he will not come.”
At this moment, the door opened, and a servant appeared in the
aperture.
“My Lord Essex would speak a word with your worship,” he said to
Raleigh.
Raleigh and Cecil exchanged glances. “Wait thou here, gentle Sir
Robert,” said Raleigh. “I will go meet his Lordship.”
Waving the servant on, he passed out of the chamber, and pushed
on for the adjacent stairs. As he was about to descend the
stairs, he perceived the Earl of Essex, marshalled by one of the
servants, coming up. He extended him his hand directly.
“Your Lordship’s fair presence makes me proud,” he said. “I hope
all is well with your Lordship.”
“Now that I hold thy hand, Sir Walter, all is well indeed,”
answered Essex. “I have come to thank thee for the good report
of me, which, in my absence, thou didst render her Highness
yesterday.”
“Tut! name it not, my Lord!” said Raleigh.
“I name it, and will remember it, good Sir Walter,” returned
Essex. “But here are a troop of gallants without, bound for the
fleet: may we have your worship’s company?”
“’Tis what I would heartily desire,” smiled Sir Walter. “Howbeit,
before we go, I must even present your Lordship to another
friend--gentle Sir Robert Cecil.”
“Name him not!” said Essex. “Whatever he may be to me, he is no
friend of thine.”
“Ah, my good Lord, I have approved him a right trusty one,”
answered Raleigh. “Beseech thee, let me make him friends with
thee.”
“Well, well, an’ thou art content, be it so!” smiled the young
nobleman.
Sir Walter said no more; but, with a bow, and a gay smile,
led the way up the stairs, and on to the library. There, in
accordance with the injunction of Sir Walter, Cecil awaited them,
but, to Sir Walter’s surprise, was taken quite aback at the
appearance of the Earl of Essex. Although, however, he seemed to
be so overwhelmed with astonishment to find the Earl of Essex an
inmate of Durham House, he was no way slow to avail himself of
Sir Walter’s offer, on their entry, to make him friends with that
personage; and, accordingly, such a reconciliation was thereupon
effected.
These matters being settled, both Essex and Raleigh prepared to
set out forthwith for Portsmouth. The appearance of a troop of
mounted gallants at Sir Walter’s door, equipped for a journey,
had caused a rumour to spread abroad, through all that part of
the town, that such was their intention; and an immense crowd had
collected to bid them farewell. Loud acclamations saluted them as
the two popular favourites appeared at the door. Again and again,
after the manner of the time, they bowed to their horses’ necks
in acknowledgment, but the popular applause no way diminished;
and they rode off, at last, amidst hearty and renewed cries of
“Hurrah for Raleigh! Long life to noble Essex! God speed you,
England’s glory!”