Whitehall, a vast banqueting-house, made of timber, covered with
canvass, and painted on the outside with a work called _rustic_,
resembling stone. It was lighted with two hundred and ninety-two
windows; whilst, from festoons of ivy and holly, hung pendants of
flowers, mixed with fruits of various kinds; amongst which,
pomegranates, oranges, pompions, cucumbers, grapes, and carrots are
named. The whole was spangled with gold; whilst, between the festoons,
appeared the ceiling, painted with a sky, sun, sunbeams, and stars,
intermingled with scutcheons of the royal arms. Three hundred and
seventy workmen were employed in its construction, and one thousand
seven hundred and forty-four pounds expended upon it.
“In this artificial palace the French ambassadors were received, and
most ‘royally banqueted and feasted’ by the maiden queen; whilst her
ministers were employed in drawing up, by her command, the marriage
articles.
“Meanwhile, several of the gentlemen and nobles, anxious to participate
in the gay illusion and courtly pleasures of the day, agreed amongst
themselves, to prepare a _triumph_; ‘the sumptuous service of which, and
the valiant manner of performing it, redounding,’ according to
Holinshed, ‘to their endless fame and honour.’ The plan was as follows:
“The young earl of Arundel, lord Windsor, Philip Sidney, and Fulke
Greville, called themselves the four foster-children of Desire; and to
that end of the tilt-yard where the queen was seated, their _refined_
homage gave the name of the Fortress of Perfect Beauty. This castle her
majesty was summoned to surrender, in an adulatory message, conveyed by
a boy, dressed in red and white, the colours of Desire; and it is not
the least part of this singular entertainment, that the first message
was delivered to her on a Sunday, as she returned from chapel.
“On her refusal, a day was fixed for the celebration of the pageant; and
on that morning, a mount, placed upon wheels, was rolled into the
tilt-yard, and the four cavaliers, in superb armour and accoutrements,
and each at the head of a splendid troop, rode into the yard. When they
had passed, in military order, before the queen, the boy who had given
her the former defiance, addressed her again, in a strain so quaint and
fulsome, that it would neither tend to your improvement nor pleasure,
were I to repeat it.
“When this harangue was finished, (during the recital of which, music
was heard within the mount, and the mount itself rose up in height,) the
device was moved close to the queen, the music sounded, and one of the
boys, accompanied by cornets, sung a fresh summons to the fortress; and
when that was ended, another boy, turning to the foster-children and
their retinue, sung an alarm, ‘with a pleasant voice and a seemly
countenance: which ended, the cannons were shot off, the one with sweet
powder, and the other with sweet water, very odoriferous and pleasant;
and the noise of the shooting was very excellent concent of melody
within the mount. And after that, was store of pretty scaling-ladders,
and the footmen threw flowers, and such fancies, against the walls, with
all such devices as might seem fit shot for Desire: all which did
continue till the time the defendants came in.’
“These were about twenty in number, and each accompanied by his
servants. Amongst them was Sir Henry Leigh, who came running in as
unknown; and, after breaking six lances, went out again. Of this
gentleman I shall have occasion to speak hereafter. Trumpeters and pages
attended, and speeches were severally delivered to the queen, on the
part of these knights, several of whom assumed fantastic characters; and
surely none more so than Sir Thomas Perrot and Anthony Cook, who thought
proper to personate Adam and Eve; being begirt with apples and fruit,
and the latter having hair hung all down his helmet. These knights ‘were
accompanied by an angel.’
“The messengers, on the part of Sir Thomas Ratcliff, described their
master ‘as a forlorn knight, whom despair of achieving the fate of his
peerless and sunlike mistress, had driven out of the haunts of men, into
a cave of the desert, where moss was his bed, moss his ceiling, moss his
candle, and moss, watered with salt tears, his food.’ Even here, the
report of this assault on the fortress of Peerless Beauty, reached his
ears, and roused him from his solitude—from bondage to a living death;
and, in token of his devoted loyalty and inviolable fidelity to his
excellent and divine lady, he had sent her his shield, hewn out of the
hard cliff, only enriched with moss; which he begged her to accept, as
the ensign of her fame, and the instrument of his glory; prostrating
himself at her feet, as ready to undertake any adventures, in hopes of
her gracious favour.
“On the part of the four sons of Sir Thomas Knolles, Mercury appeared,
and described them as the legitimate sons of Despair, brethren to hard
mishap, suckled with sighs, and swathed up in sorrow, weaned in woe, and
dry-nursed by Desire; long time fostered with favourable countenance,
and fed with sweet fancies; but now, of late, alas! wholly given over by
grief and disgrace, with despair, &c.
“The speeches being ended, probably to the relief of the hearers, the
tilting commenced, and continued till night, with some fresh
circumstances of magnificence, and a few more harangues. At length the
challengers presented to their sovereign an olive bough, in token of
their humble submission; and both parties were dismissed by her, with
thanks and commendations.
“I told you I would give you some account of Sir Henry Leigh, whose
formal resignation of the office of queen’s champion, so long his glory
and delight, and which took place four years preceding this last
pageant, forms one of those romantic ceremonies which mark so well the
age of Elizabeth. The gallant earl of Cumberland was his destined
successor, and the momentous transfer was effected after the following
fashion.
“Having first performed their respective parts in the chivalrous
exercises of the band of knight-tilters, Sir Henry and the earl
presented themselves to her majesty, at the foot of the gallery where
she was seated, surrounded by her ladies and nobles, to view the games.
“They advanced to slow music, and a concealed performer accompanied the
strain with the following song:
“My golden locks time hath to silver turn’d,
(Oh, time! too swift, and swiftness never ceasing,)
My youth ’gainst age, and age at youth hath spurn’d;
But spurn’d in vain, youth waneth by increasing:
Beauty, strength, and youth, flowers fading been;
Duty, faith, and love, are roots and evergreen.
“My helmet now shall make a hive for bees,
And lover’s songs shall turn to holy psalms;
A man at arms must now sit on his knees,
And feed on prayers that are old age’s alms;
And so, from court to cottage I depart,
My saint is sure of mine unspotted heart.
“And when I sadly sit in homely cell,
I’ll teach my swains this carol for a song:
‘Bless’d be the hearts that think my sovereign well,
Curs’d be the souls that think to do her wrong.’
Goddess, vouchsafe this aged man his right
To be your beads-man now, that was your knight.”
“During the performance, there arose out of the earth a pavilion of
white taffeta, supported on pillars resembling porphyry, and formed to
imitate the temple of the vestal virgins. A superb altar was placed
within it, on which were laid some rich gifts for her majesty. Before
the gate stood a crowned pillar, embraced by an eglantine; to which a
votive table was attached, inscribed, ‘to Elizabeth.’ The gifts and the
tablet being, with great reverence, delivered to the queen, the aged
knight being in the mean time disarmed, he offered up his armour at the
foot of the pillar, and, kneeling, presented the earl of Cumberland to
her majesty; praying her to accept of him as a knight, and to continue
these annual exercises. The proposal being graciously accepted, Sir
Henry armed the earl, and mounted him on his horse: this done, he
clothed himself in a long velvet gown, and covered his head, in lieu of
a helmet, with a buttoned cap of the country fashion.”
“This is by far the most elegant ceremony you have described, Sir,” said
Mrs. Spencer; “but I cannot help lamenting, that the distinguished
character of Elizabeth should be sullied with such weakness.”
“We will turn,” said Mr. Wilmot, “from the contemplation of her defects,
to view her in those affairs, when the strength of her character appears
in all its native lustre—when the sacred feelings of the moment, lent to
her words and actions that energy and dignity, which so often gained her
the admiration of hoary statesmen, and of surrounding nations. You have
heard of the threatened attack of the Spanish Armada, and the vigorous
measures that were taken to defend the country against the threatened
invasion. When all the preparations of defence were finally arranged,
the queen resolved to visit, in person, her camp at Tilbury, for the
purpose of encouraging her troops.
“Mounted on a noble charger, with a general’s truncheon in her hand, a
corslet of polished steel laced on over her magnificent apparel, and a
page in attendance, bearing her white plumed helmet, she rode
bare-headed, from rank to rank, with a courageous deportment and a
smiling countenance; and, amid the affectionate plaudits and shouts of
military ardour, which burst from the animated and admiring soldiery,
she addressed them in the following short and spirited harangue.
“‘My loving people, we have been persuaded, by some that are careful of
our safety, to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes,
for fear of treachery; but I assure you, I do not desire to live, to
distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear: I have always
so behaved myself, that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength
and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good-will of my subjects.
“‘And therefore I am come amongst you at this time, not as my recreation
or sport; but being resolved, in the midst and heat of battle, to live
or die amongst you all: to lay down, for my God, and for my kingdom, and
for my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust. I know I have
but the body of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart of a king,
and of a king of England too; and think foul scorn, that Parma, or
Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my
realm.
“‘To which, rather than any dishonour should grow by me, I myself will
take up arms; I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of
every one of your virtues in the field.
“‘I know, already, by your forwardness, you have deserved rewards and
crowns; and we do assure you, on the word of a prince, they shall be
duly paid you. In the mean time, my lieutenant-general shall be in my
stead, than whom, never prince commanded more noble and worthy subjects;
not doubting, by your obedience to my general, by your concord in the
camp, and your valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous
victory over those enemies of my God, of my kingdom, and of my people.’”
“It is, indeed, a noble speech,” said Mrs. Spencer; “and one can imagine
the loud plaudits that would ensue, when she had ended her address. If I
am not mistaken, it was about this time that newspapers were
introduced.”
“Yes,” answered Mr. Wilmot: “the intense interest in public events,
excited in every class by the threatened invasion of Spain, gave rise to
the introduction, into this country, of one of the most important
inventions of social life, that of newspapers. Previous to this period,
all articles of intelligence had been circulated in manuscripts; and all
political remarks, which the government had found itself interested in
making to the people, had issued from the press in the shape of
pamphlets; of which, many had been composed during the administration of
Burleigh, either by himself, or under his direction. But the peculiar
convenience, at such a juncture, of uniting the two objects in a
periodical publication, becoming obvious to the ministry, there
appeared, some time in the month of August, 1558, the first number of
the English Mercury, a paper resembling the present London Gazette,
which must have come out almost daily; since the number 50, the earliest
specimen of the work now extant, is dated July 23rd of the same year.
This interesting manuscript is preserved in the British Museum. But
(said Mr. Wilmot, turning to Susan and Ann) I think that you both know
the Royal Exchange.”
“Yes, Sir,” they replied; “but we do not know who built it.”
“It was built,” answered Mr. Wilmot, “by Thomas Gresham, a merchant.
Born of a family at once enlightened, commercial, and wealthy, he had
not only imbibed their spirit and their virtues; but, fortunately for
himself, neither the advantages of the education he had received at
Cambridge, nor his own superior attainments, tempted him to quit the
walk of life for which he was intended, and in which he afterwards so
eminently distinguished himself.
“His father, Sir Richard Gresham, had been agent to Henry the Eighth,
for negotiations of loans with the merchants of Antwerp; and the
abilities of young Gresham were soon discovered, by the eminent services
he rendered, when in a similar capacity to Edward the Sixth, by
redeeming the credit of the king, then sunk to the lowest ebb by the
mismanagement of his father’s immediate successor. Under Elizabeth he
enjoyed the same appointment, to which was added that of queen’s
merchant; and it appears, by the official letters of the times, that he
was occasionally consulted in political as well as pecuniary affairs. He
was a spirited promoter of the infant manufactures of his country,
several of which owed their origin to him.
“By his assiduity and commercial talents, he rendered himself one of the
most opulent merchants in the kingdom; and the queen showed her sense of
his merit, by bestowing on him the office of knighthood.
“Gresham had been always liberal and patriotic; but the death of his
only son, in 1564, determined him to render his country his principal
heir.
“Hitherto the citizens of London had been unprovided with any building
in the shape of a Burse, or an Exchange, such as Gresham had been
accustomed to see abroad, in the commercial cities of Flanders; and he
now munificently offered, if the city would give him a piece of ground,
to build one at his own expence.
“The edifice was begun accordingly, in 1566, and finished within three
years. It was a quadrangle of bricks, with walks on the ground-floor for
merchants, (who now ceased to transact their business in the middle
aisle of St. Paul’s Cathedral,) with vaults for warehouses beneath, and
a row of shops above; from the rent of which the proprietor sought some
remuneration for his great charges. But the shops did not immediately
find customers; and it was partly with a view of bringing them into
vogue, that the queen promised to give her countenance to the
undertaking, in January, 1571. Holinshed gives the following particulars
of this visit. On the twenty-third of January, the queen, accompanied by
her nobility, came from Somerset House, and entered the city by Temple
Bar, Fleet-street, and by the north side of the Burse, to Sir Thomas
Gresham’s in Bishopsgate-street, where she dined. After dinner, her
grace, returning through Cornhill, entered the Burse on the south side;
and, after she had viewed every part thereof, above the ground,
especially the Pawne, which was richly furnished with all sorts of the
finest wares in the city, she caused proclamation to be made by the
sound of trumpet, that it should henceforth be called the Royal
Exchange.
“Gresham offered the shops rent-free, for a year, to such as would
furnish them with wares and wax-lights, against the coming of the queen;
and the proposal produced a very sumptuous display. Afterwards, the
shops of the Exchange became the favourite resort of the fashionable of
both sexes. The building was destroyed by the fire of 1666; and the
divines of that day, according to their custom, pronounced this
catastrophe a judgment on the avarice and unfair dealing of the
merchants, and the pride, prodigality, and luxury of the purchasers and
idlers, by which it was frequented and maintained.”
“Then the present Exchange is not the building erected by Sir Thomas?”
said Ann.
“No, my dear,” replied Mr. Wilmot: “the first stone of the second fabric
was laid by Charles the Second, who rode in state into the city for this
purpose, in 1667. It bears the original title, and was erected in about
three years, at the expence of £80,000.”
Mrs. Spencer remarked, that Gresham was a splendid benefactor to the
city of London; for, besides the Royal Exchange, he left his magnificent
residence in Bishopsgate-street, as a college for the benefit of the
citizens of London. He thought that, as the inhabitants of that city
possessed much money, a proportionate quantity of knowledge and learning
should be diffused among them. He bequeathed annuities for public
lectures in divinity, law, physic, and astronomy, geometry, music, and
rhetoric: his house was appointed for the residence of the lecturer, and
there the lectures were to be read. But Gresham College is now turned
into the Excise Office.
“Did I understand you, Sir,” said Susan, “that the aisle of St. Paul’s
was formerly used by the merchants of London, as a resort in which to
transact business?”
“You may well ask the question, indeed,” answered Mr. Wilmot; “and, in
replying to it, I shall first tell you, that, in the year 1441, the
beautiful steeple of St. Paul’s was struck by lightning; (it was the
loftiest in the kingdom;) and, together with the bells and roof, was
utterly destroyed. Never did parties in religion run higher than about
this period of the reign of Elizabeth. The manner in which this accident
was commented upon, by adverse disputants, not only marks the temper of
the times; but informs us to how many purposes this building,
professedly devoted to divine worship, was appropriated.
“A papist immediately dispersed a paper, representing this accident as a
judgment from Heaven, for the discontinuance of the meeting, and other
services, which used to be performed in the church, at different hours
of the day and night. Pilkington, bishop of Durham, who preached at
Paul’s Cross, after the accident, was equally disposed to regard it as a
judgment; but on the sins of London in general, and particularly on
certain abuses, by which the church had formerly been polluted. In a
tract, published in answer to that of the papists, he afterwards gave an
animated description of the practices of which this cathedral had been
the theatre; curious, in the present day, as a record of forgotten
customs.
“He said, ‘No place had been more abused than St. Paul’s had been, nor
more against the receiving of Christ’s gospel; wherefore it was more
wonderful that God had spared it so long, than that he overthrew it now.
* * From the top of the spire, at coronations, or other solemn triumphs,
some, for vain-glory, had thrown themselves down by a rope, and so
killed themselves, vainly to please other men’s eyes. At the battlements
of the steeple, sundry times, were used their popish anthems, to call
upon their gods, with the torch and taper, in the evenings. In the top
of one of the pinnacles was Lollard’s Tower, where many an innocent soul
had been cruelly terminated and murdered. In the middest alley was their
long censer, reaching from the roof to the ground; as though the Holy
Ghost came down in their censing, in likeness of a dove. In the arches,
men complained of wrong and delayed judgments in ecclesiastical causes;
and divers had been condemned there by Annas and Caiphas, for Christ’s
cause. Their images hung on every wall, and pillar, and door, with their
pilgrimages, and worshipping of them; passing over their massing and
many altars, and the rest of their popish service.
“‘The south-side alley was for usury and popery; the north for simony;
and the horse-fair in the midst, for all kinds of bargains, meetings,
brawlings, murders, and conspiracies. The font, for ordinary payments of
money, as well known to all men as the beggar knows his dish; so that
without and within, above the ground and under, over the roof and
beneath, from the top of the steeple and spire down to the floor, not
one spot was free from wickedness.’
“How the divines of that age reconciled these violents philippics
against those who differed from them in religious views, with the
injunction left by the apostle, in his masterly delineation of Christian
charity, is not for me to determine,” said Mr. Wilmot. “You will
observe, that the practice of making St. Paul’s a kind of exchange, for
transactions of all kinds of business, and a place of meeting for idlers
of all sorts, is here alluded to: it is frequently mentioned by writers
of this and the two succeeding reigns; and when, and by what means the
custom was put an end to, does not appear.
“It was here that Sir Nicholas Throgmorton held a conference with an
emissary of Wyatt’s: it was here that one of the bravos, engaged in the
noted murder of Alden of Feversham, was hired. It was in St. Paul’s that
Falstaff is made to say, he bought Bardolph.
“In bishop Earl’s admirable little book, called, ‘Microcosmography,’ the
scene is described with all the wit of the author, and somewhat of the
quaintness of his age, which was that of James the First. He says,
‘Paul’s walk is the land’s epitome, or you may call it the lesser isle
of Great Britain. It is more than this; the whole world’s map, which you
may here discern in the perfectest motion, jostling and turning. It is
the great exchange of all discourse; and no business whatever, but is
here stirring and afoot. It is the synod of all pates politic joined and
laid together, in most serious posture; and they are not half so busy at
the parliament. It is the market of young lecturers, whom you may
cheapen here at all rates and sizes. It is the general mint of all lies,
which were, like the legends of popery, first coined and stamped in the
church. All inventions are emptied here; and not a few pockets. The best
sign of a temple in it, is, that it is the thieves’ sanctuary.
“‘The visitants are all men, without exception; but the principal
inhabitants and possessors are, stale knights, and captains out of
service, men of long rapiers and breeches, which, after all, turn
merchants here, and traffic for news. Some make it a preface to their
dinner; but thriftier men make it their ordinary, and board here very
cheap.’”
The bell now rang, and company was announced. Susan and Ann quitted the
gallery with reluctance; but not before they had obtained a promise from
Mr. Wilmot, that they should visit it again on the following day.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAP. VIII.
----------
PUNCTUAL to the moment of appointment, Mr. Wilmot led his young friends
into the gallery; and, after giving them leave to range round it, he
begged that they would select a subject for the morning’s entertainment.
“Then, Sir,” said Susan, “I should like to be informed who that wounded
officer is, and that poor soldier, who, even whilst drinking with
eagerness, seems to fix his eyes so intently on him.”
“That officer,” answered Mr. Wilmot, “is Sir Philip Sidney, one of the
brightest ornaments of queen Elizabeth’s court; and whose personal
endowments were only equalled by his valour and humanity.
“When, at the battle of Zutphen, in the United Provinces, in which he
had distinguished himself, his thigh-bone was broken by a musket-shot,
in the agony of his wound he called for water: some was brought him,
but, as he was lifting it to his lips, the ghastly looks of a dying
soldier met his eye. ‘Take this,’ said he, holding the water to him,
‘_thy_ necessities are yet greater than _mine_.’ We can better estimate
the self-denial of this generous act, when we remember that the wound
was mortal, and that, after sixteen days of acute suffering, it
terminated his valuable life.
“Thus perished, at the early age of thirty-two, this Marcellus of the
English nation; at once the pride and ornament of his time—the theme and
favourite of song and story.”
[Illustration:
Page 142.
Page 148.]