Chapter III: Part 3

“Nor was Christmas a season of less festivity,” continued Mr. Wilmot. “Warlike knights and ‘peerless dames,’ issuing from castles, erected in the royal halls, with sham fights, music, and dancing, seem to have constituted a prominent feature of entertainment. One of these pageants, exhibited at Greenwich, on Twelfth-night, was an artificial garden, called the garden of ‘Esperance.’ This garden was towered at every corner, and railed with gilt rails; whilst the banks were adorned with artificial flowers, composed of silver and gold, with green satin leaves. In the midst of the garden stood a pillar of antique work of gold, set with pearls and stones; and on the top of this pillar was an arch, crowned with gold, in which was placed a bush of white and red roses, and a bush of pomegranates, both made of silk and gold. Six knights, with an equal number of ladies, descended from this fanciful parterre, who, after dancing many dances, stepped up again into it, and were wheeled out of the room. The whole, as usual, concluded with a banquet.

“The birth of Henry’s first son, who died in his infancy, was celebrated with even more than usual gaiety. But it would be fatiguing, both to you and to me, were I to relate to you the almost endless devices enumerated; though, as you have probably heard of the ancient _jousts_, or combats on horseback, which were a favourite diversion with our forefathers, I shall give you an account of one, in order that you may be able to form some idea of this species of recreation.

“On this occasion it commenced with a forest, in which were interspersed rocks, hills, and dales, with a variety of trees and flowers, hawthorn, fern, and grass, composed of green velvet, damask, satin, and sarcenet, of a variety of colours. Within the wood were seen six foresters, attired in green, and by their sides lay a number of spears. In the middle stood a golden castle, before the gate of which was a gentleman, gaily dressed, wreathing a garland of roses for the prize. This pageant appeared to be drawn by a lion and an antelope. The lion was covered with damask gold, and the antelope wrought all over with silver damask, his tusks and horns gilt.

“These animals were led by men, attired so as to represent wild men, or, as they were styled, ‘woodhouses:’ their heads, faces, hands, legs, and whole body being covered with green flossed silk. On either side of the lion and unicorn, sat a lady in splendid attire; whilst the beasts were tied to the car with huge golden chains. When the pageant rested before the queen, the foresters blew their horns, and the device opening, disclosed four knights completely armed, bearing magnificent plumes on their heads, and spears in their hands; the housing of their horses, on which were embroidered their names, being composed of gold. To combat with these, a swell of trumpets and drums announced on the field the entrance of the earl of Essex and the lord Thomas Howard, with their friends, and a gallant train, well armed; the trappings and bases of their horses being composed of crimson satin, embroidered with branches of pomegranates of gold and posies. After the usual display of feats of address and skill, the jousts, for that day, were closed.

“On the morrow, after dinner, they were re-renewed, with this difference in their attire, that the noblemen and their hordes wore cloth of gold and russet tinsel: the knights, cloth of gold and russet velvet: the gentlemen on foot, russet satin and yellow; and the yeomen, russet damask and yellow; all of them garnished with scarlet hose and yellow caps.

“The entrance of the king, under a pavilion of cloth of gold and purple velvet, sumptuously embroidered, with a superb plume glittering with spangles of gold, and his three aids or supporters, each under a pavilion of crimson and purple damask, studded with their sovereign’s initials in gold, gave an additional splendour to this day’s entertainments.

“Gentlemen and yeomen, to the number of one hundred and sixty-eight, attired in their peculiar colours, and twelve children on horseback, each differing from the other, but all richly dressed, were ranked on this side of the lists. The opposite party were preceded by Sir Charles Brandon, habited as a recluse, in a long robe of russet satin, and unattended by music, bearing a petition to the queen, to licence him to run in her presence. Assent was, of course, granted; when he was instantly armed cap-à-piè[8], and, crossing the tilt-yard at full gallop, was received by a company in russet satin, who awaited him.

Footnote 8:

Cap-à-piè, from head to foot.

“Alone came young Henry Guildford; himself and horse clad in his squire’s robe of russet cloth of gold, and cloth of silver, closed in a device or pageant, made like a castle or a turret, wrought of russet Florence satin sarcenet, set out in gold, with his word or posie. He also demanded leave of the queen to run; which being granted, he took his place at the tilt end. A number of his servants, dressed in his colours, russet, satin, and white, with hose of like colour, then made their appearance, and followed their master.

“The marquis of Dorset, and Sir Thomas Bullen, clothed as pilgrims, from St. James’s, in tabards of black velvet, with palmers’ hats on their helmets, and with long Jacob’s staves in their hands, followed. Their horses’ trappings were of black velvet; and these, together with their own dresses, were strewed with scallop-shells. Their servants also wore black satin, with scallop-shells of gold on their breasts.

“They were, soon afterwards, succeeded by lord Henry Buckingham, earl of Wiltshire, himself and his horse apparelled in cloth of silver, embroidered with his posy or word, and arrows of gold, in a posy, called, “La maison de refuge,” made of crimson damask, bordered with roses and arrows of gold; on the top, a greyhound of silver, bearing a pomegranate of gold, the branches whereof were so large, that they overspread the whole pageant. Sir Giles Capell, Sir Rowland, with many other knights richly armed and accoutred, entered also on this side of the lists.

“When all was ready, the trumpets sounded a flourish, and the combatants rushed together. Adroitness and skill in unlacing the antagonist’s helmet, and in unhorsing him, seem to have formed a prominent part of these martial exercises, in which the king and his aids were, as usual, distinguished, and to whom, on this occasion, the prize was adjudged.

“I shall close this account with the description of one more pageant, running upon wheels, which was introduced at this period, and which, to use the words of Holinshed, was ‘curiously made, and pleasant to behold, being solemn and rich; for every post thereof was covered with friezed gold, wherein were trees of hawthorn, eglantine, roses, vines, and other pleasant flowers of divers colours, with gilly-flowers, and other herbs, all made of satin, damask, silver, and gold, according as the natural trees, herbs, and flowers ought to be.’

“These festivals were soon followed by the death of the young prince, who expired on the twenty-second of February, at Richmond, and was buried at Westminster.”

“Nothing,” said Mrs. Spencer, “marks more distinctly the progress of national taste, than its public amusements. England, at the time you have been speaking of, was gradually emerging from her rusticity; and the ludicrous mixture displayed in the pageants exhibited, of refinement and grossness, prove that the luminous era which was to follow, was but just dawning upon her. But put up your work, my dears: tea is waiting, and Mr. Wilmot appears exhausted.”

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CHAP. VI.

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“THIS is a splendid painting, Sir,” said Mrs. Spencer, as she this morning stopped to admire a picture that hung at the entrance of the gallery: “from the magnificence attending it, I should suppose it represented a royal baptism.”

“You are quite right, my dear madam,” answered Mr. Wilmot. “It is the christening of no less a personage than our illustrious queen Elizabeth; and, as a singular chain of events befel most of the individuals present at it, I think I cannot commence this day’s entertainment with a more interesting relation.

“At one o’clock in the afternoon, the lord mayor, Sir Stephen Peacock, in a gown of crimson satin, adorned with his chain, and with the aldermen in scarlet robes, ornamented with their golden collars, took boat for Greenwich, where they found many lords, knights, and gentlemen assembled. The whole way from the palace to the Friars, was strewn with green rushes, and the walls were hung with tapestry, as was the Friars’ church, in which the ceremony was performed.

“A silver font, covered with crimson satin fringed with gold, stood in the midst of the church; and round it were arranged several gentlemen, with aprons and towels round their necks. All things being arranged, the procession set forth. It began with citizens walking two and two; then gentlemen, ’squires, and chaplains; then the aldermen and the mayor alone; and, following these, the king’s council and chaplain in copes; and, lastly, barons, bishops, and earls.

“The gilt basin was carried by Henry, earl of Essex. This nobleman perished, a few years afterwards, by a fall from his horse. He was alike distinguished for his magnificence, and the part he bore in tilt and tourney. Sprung from a royal lineage, being descended from Thomas of Woodstock, youngest son of Edward the Third, his high connexion must have rendered him occasionally fearful lest they should involve him in the same fatal catastrophe with that which the duke of Buckingham had so lately suffered. But his premature death, whilst it placed him beyond the reach of caprice, left his title at the disposal of the monarch, who, much to the mortification of this illustrious family, bestowed it on his favourite, the low-bred Cromwell.

“The salt was borne by Henry, marquis of Dorset, the father of lady Jane Grey, who, after receiving the royal pardon for his share in the criminal enterprize for placing the crown on the head of his ill-fated and gentle daughter, joined the rebellion of Wyatt, and finally forfeited his life on the scaffold.

“William Courtnay, marquis of Exeter, followed, bearing the taper of virgin wax. This nobleman had the misfortune to be very nearly allied to the English throne, his mother being a daughter of Edward the Fourth. He was, at this period, highly distinguished by the king’s favour, who had even declared his intention of making him heir apparent, in preference to his own sisters, and his daughter Mary. The divorce from Catherine had, indeed, by proclaiming the latter illegitimate, rendered her incapable of succeeding to the throne. But, three years afterwards, he fell a victim to the jealousy of the fickle monarch, on a charge of corresponding with his proscribed cousin, cardinal Pole; and his honours and estates were not only forfeited, but his son, though quite a child, was immured in close custody.

“The chrism, which was very rich, being made of pearl and stone, was carried by the beautiful lady Mary Howard, daughter of the duke of Norfolk. She also furnished another illustration of the remark I commenced with; for she lived not only to witness, but, by the evidence she gave on his trial, to assist in the unjust condemnation of her illustrious brother, the earl of Surry, whose talents, and whose gallantry, still adorn the annals of English history. This lady, descended from our Saxon monarchs, Henry bestowed upon his base-born son, created duke of Richmond; an insult, which, in other reigns, the Howards would have resented as it deserved.

“The infant princess, wrapped in a mantle of purple, richly furred with ermine, was carried by one of her godmothers, the dowager duchess of Norfolk. This lady was the step-grandmother of Ann Boleyn; but the high distinction afforded, too shortly, but little cause of exultation. And equally melancholy was the termination of that closer alliance with royalty, which was formed for her, in the person of her own grand-daughter, Catherine Howard. On the discovery of this queen’s ill-conduct, the aged duchess was declared guilty of misprision of treason, and, overwhelmed with disgrace, was committed to custody; but she was afterwards released, when Catherine had expiated her follies and vices on the scaffold. Nor less exempt from trial was the other godmother at the font, the dowager marchioness of Dorset. Her grand-daughter, lady Jane Grey, perished by an ignominious death. Three of her sons shared the same fate; and the fourth died, during the reign of Elizabeth, a prisoner in the Tower, in which he had been confined, for the offence of distributing a pamphlet, asserting the title of the Suffolk line to the crown.

“The marchioness of Exeter, the other godmother at the font, not only wept over the untimely end of her husband; and her only son wasting the flower of his youth in a tedious captivity; but she herself was attainted of high treason, some time afterwards, and underwent a long and arbitrary imprisonment.

“On either hand of the duchess of Norfolk, walked the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk; the only nobles of that rank then existing in England. On every public and important occasion, both civil and military, their united names appear during the reign of Henry the Eighth; but the termination of their respective careers forms a striking contrast. The duke of Suffolk was ever regarded with the same favour, which he had gained as Charles Brandon, the jocund companion of his royal master’s youthful exercises. Nor did his marriage with the king’s sister, involve him in either troubles or misfortunes; and he did not live to witness those which overwhelmed his grand-daughter. He died in peace, sincerely lamented by his sovereign.

“Very different was the treatment which the duke of Norfolk received from the king. His high birth, and powerful connexions, created fears in Henry’s mind, for the tranquillity and safety of his son, the virtuous Edward the Sixth. The former services of his faithful and noble servant were overlooked, and sacrificed to his present alarm. With almost his last breath he decreed the death of Norfolk. But even Henry was no longer absolute: his orders were this time disobeyed, and the duke survived him. He, however, suffered a long and tedious captivity; and lived but a short time after his tardy restoration to liberty and honour, under Mary.

“One of the infant’s train-bearers, was the countess of Kent. If she were, as is probable, the widow of the second earl of that title, she must have been the daughter of the earl of Pembroke, a zealous Yorkist, who was slain fighting in the cause of Edward the Fourth.

“Thomas Boleyn, earl of Wiltshire, the proud and delighted grandfather of the princely babe, supported the train on one side. He lived to witness the cruel and disgraceful end of his son and daughter, and died long before the prosperous days of his illustrious grandchild.

“Edward Stanly, third earl of Derby, formed an exception to this train of ill-fated nobles. Educated by Wolsey, whose ward he was, he proved himself a faithful subject to four succeeding sovereigns; and, in the most disturbed times, stood firm in his unshaken loyalty. Full of years and honours, and rich in hereditary distinctions, he died, universally esteemed, in 1574.

“Four lords, three of whom met with disastrous fate, supported the canopy over the royal infant. One was her uncle, the accomplished viscount Rochford, who suffered death by the tyranny of Henry, for a crime of which he is now most fully acquitted. Another was lord Hussey, who expiated the crime of rebellion on the scaffold, a few years afterwards. The two others were brothers, of the family of the illustrious but unfortunate Howards.

“Lord William, uncle to Catherine Howard, was unjustly condemned to perpetual imprisonment and forfeiture of goods, for not exposing her misconduct; but the sentence was afterwards remitted. He lived to be eminent in the next reign, under the title of lord Howard of Effingham, and died peacefully, in a venerable age.

“The ambition of lord Thomas was the cause of his sufferings. He married the lady Margaret Douglas, niece to the king, and on the discovery of which he was committed to the Tower, where he died in close imprisonment.

“The ceremony of christening was performed by Stokely, bishop of London, attended by several abbots and bishops mitred; and the benediction was pronounced by Cranmer, that learned and distinguished prelate, whose virtues, whose weaknesses, whose general benevolence and holy faith, exhibited amidst the flames of martyrdom, have rendered him a distinguished character in the history of this eventful reign.

“At the conclusion of the ceremonies, garter king-at-arms cried aloud: ‘God, of his infinite goodness, send prosperous life and long, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth.’ The trumpets then sounded a flourish, and the party prepared to retrace their steps to the palace.

“In the return from church, the gifts of the sponsors, consisting of bowls and cups, some gilded, and others of massy gold, were carried by four persons of quality, _viz_: Thomas Somerset, second earl of Worcester; Thomas Ratcliff, lord Fitzwalter, afterwards earl of Sussex; and Sir John Dudley, son of the detested associate of Empson, and afterwards the notorious duke of Northumberland; whose crimes received, at length, their due recompence in that ignominious death, to which his guilty and extravagant projects had conducted so many comparatively innocent victims.”

When Mr. Wilmot had finished his narration, Mrs. Spencer remarked, that, by the untimely death of Ann Boleyn, the infant princess became a partaker of some of the trouble that involved so many of the distinguished individuals who attended this august ceremony.

“Yes,” said Mr. Wilmot; “and there are some curious extracts extant, respecting the petty mortifications she was destined to endure in childhood, whilst the subject of her legitimacy was left unsettled. Passing over these, however, I shall give the girls a short account of the pursuits that engrossed her youth, and which is taken from some writings of the celebrated Roger Ascham.

“This gentleman says: ‘The lady Elizabeth has completed her sixteenth year; and so much solidity and understanding, such courtesy united with dignity, have never been observed at so early an age. She has the most ardent love of true religion, and of the best kind of literature. The constitution of her mind is exempt from female weakness; and she is endued with a masculine power of application. No apprehension can be quicker than hers, no memory more retentive. French and Italian she speaks like English; Latin with fluency, propriety, and judgment: she also spoke Greek with me frequently, willingly, and moderately well. Nothing can be more elegant than her handwriting, whether in the Greek or Roman characters. In music she is very skilful, but does not greatly delight.

“‘With respect to personal decorations, she greatly prefers a simple elegance to show and splendour; so despising the outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing gold, that, in her whole manner of life, she greatly prefers Hippolyta than Phædra.

“‘She read with me almost the whole of Cicero, and a great part of Livy: from these two writers, her knowledge of the Latin language has been exclusively derived. The beginning of the day was almost always devoted by her to the New Testament, in Greek; after which, she read select orations of Isocrates, and the tragedies of Sophocles. For her religious instruction, she drew first from the fountains of Scripture, and afterwards from St. Cyprian, the common-places of Melancthon, and similar works, which contain pure doctrine in simple language.’”

Mrs. Spencer remarked, that Ascham’s account of Elizabeth’s simplicity in dress was singular, when contrasted with the love of magnificence and show, which she displayed in after life.

“And yet,” replied Mr. Wilmot, “his testimony is corroborated by that of Dr. Elmer, or Aylmer, who was tutor to lady Jane Grey and her sisters, and became, subsequently, during Elizabeth’s reign, bishop of London. He thus draws her character, when young, in a work entitled, ‘A Harbour for faithful Subjects.’

“‘The king left her rich clothes and jewels; and I know it to be true, that, in seven years after her father’s death, she never, in all that time, looked upon that rich attire and precious jewels, but once, and that against her will. And that there never came gold or stone on her head, till her sister forced her to lay off her former soberness, and bear her company in her glittering gayness. And then she so wore it, as every man might see that her body carried that which her heart disliked. I am sure that her maidenly apparel, in king Edward’s time, made the noblemen’s wives and daughters to be ashamed to be dressed and painted like peacocks; being more moved with her most virtuous example, than with all that Peter or Paul wrote on the subject. Yea, this I know, that a great man’s daughter, lady Jane Grey, receiving from lady Mary, before she was queen, good apparel of tinsel, cloth of gold, and velvet, laid on with parchment lace of gold, when she saw it, said: ‘What shall I do with it?’ ‘Marry!’ said a gentlewoman, ‘wear it.’ ‘Nay,’ quoth she, ‘that were a shame to follow my lady Mary, against God’s word.’ And when all the ladies, at the coming of the Scots queen dowager, Mary of Guise, (she who visited England in Edward’s time,) went with their hair frownsed, curled, and double curled, she altered nothing, but kept her old-maidenly shamefacedness.’

“Whatever Elizabeth’s subsequent taste in dress might have been, it is evident, that at this period she strictly conformed to the rigid turn of sentiment which prevailed in young Edward’s reign. Miss Aikin tells us, that there is a print, from the portrait of her when young, in which the hair is without a single ornament, and the whole dress remarkably plain.

“But I must leave this interesting part of Elizabeth’s character, and proceed to the time when the insurrection by Wyatt, of which I have formerly spoken, was made a pretext for confining her person within the Tower.

“Three of the queen’s council were dispatched to Ashbridge, to summon her to London; and with such rigour did they execute their commission, that, although on their arrival late at night, they found her confined to her bed with illness, they not only insisted upon seeing her at this time, but, ere the lady to whom they had given their message could deliver it, they rudely burst into the room of the princess, and informed her, that, ‘alive or dead,’ they must carry her with them.

“That Elizabeth had conducted herself with great amiability, may be inferred from the grief with which her servants saw her depart. They naturally anticipated, from the severity of the proceedings, the worst that could befall their youthful mistress. And, in so weak a state was the afflicted princess, that she was obliged to rest four nights, in a journey of twenty-four miles.

After the residence of a few days at Hampton Court, she was conducted to the Tower privately, by the earl of Sussex and another lord, three of her own ladies, three of the queen’s, and some of her own officers.

“Holinshed has preserved some curious and characteristic traits of her conduct, which I shall relate to you, in nearly his own words.

“On reaching the place of her destination, she at first refused to land at the traitors’ gate, which, when one of the uncourteous lords heard, he replied, that ‘she should not choose;’ offering her, at the same time, his cloak, to protect her from the rain; ‘which she, putting it back with her hand, with a good dash, refused.’

“Setting her foot upon the stairs, she said: ‘Here landeth as true a subject, being a prisoner, as ever landed at these stairs; and before thee, O God! do I speak it, having none other friends but thee alone.’ To whom the same lord answered again: ‘That, if it were so, it was the better for her.’

“Observing a multitude of servants and warders standing in order to receive her, she said: ‘What needed all this?’ Being informed that it was customary, on receiving a prisoner: ‘If it be,’ said she, ‘for my cause, I beseech you that they may be dismissed.’ Whereupon, the poor men knelt down, and, with one voice, prayed God to preserve her; for which action they all lost their places the next day.

“Passing on a little further, she sat down upon a stone, and there rested herself; upon which the lieutenant, expressing his fears upon her account, and begging her to come in from the rain, she replied: ‘Better sitting here, than in a worse place; for God knoweth, I know not whither you will bring me.’ On seeing her gentleman-usher in tears, she reproved him, telling him, he ought rather to be her comforter, and not to dismay her; especially since she knew her truth to be such, that no man should have cause to weep for her. Then rising, she entered into her prison, the doors being locked and bolted upon her.

“This last act of severity seems exceedingly to have distressed the princess; but, calling for her book, she devoutly prayed that she ‘might be suffered to build her house upon the rock, whereby the blasts of the blustering weather should have no power upon her.’

“The confinement of the princess in the Tower, was purposely rendered as irksome and comfortless as possible. It was not till after a month’s close confinement, by which her health had suffered materially, that, after many entreaties, she gained permission to walk in the royal apartments, accompanied by the lord chamberlain, and three of her gentlewomen; the windows being shut, and she not permitted to look out of them. Afterwards, she had liberty to walk in a small garden, the doors and gates being shut; and the other prisoners being closely guarded during the time, and strictly commanded not to look from out of the windows, or to speak.

“Even a child of five years old, belonging to some inferior officer in the Tower, who was wont to visit her daily, and to carry her flowers, was suspected of being employed as a messenger between her and the earl of Devonshire; was strictly examined by the lord chamberlain; and, notwithstanding his youth and simplicity, ordered not to visit her again. The child answering, that ‘he would bring his lady and mistress more flowers,’ he was threatened with a whipping if he did not desist. The next day, as the princess was walking in the garden, the boy, peeping in through a hole in the door, cried out, ‘Mistress, I can bring you no more flowers;’ whereat she smiled, but said nothing. Nevertheless, the lord chamberlain hearing the circumstance, severely rebuked his father, and ordered him to send him from home.

“Her confinement in the Tower lasted for some time. She was afterwards removed to Woodstock, in Oxfordshire, and retained in a kind of honourable captivity, till the death of her sister Mary set her free.

“This event took place on November the nineteenth, 1558; and, on the twenty-third of the same month, Elizabeth, now become queen, set forward for her capital, attended by about a hundred nobles, knights, gentlemen, and ladies; and took up her abode, for the present, at the Chartreux, or Charter-house, formerly a considerable monastery, but dissolved in the reign of Henry the Eighth, and then the residence of lord North; a splendid pile, which offered ample accommodation for a royal retinue.

“Her next removal, according to ancient custom, was to the Tower. On this occasion, the loyalty and gallantry of the English nation were fully displayed. Pageants and endless devices attracted her attention on all sides: singers and musicians lent their aid; and, more than all, the air was rent with the joyful acclamations of her enraptured subjects, as, preceded by her heralds and great officers, the maiden queen, gratified and affected by the homage that a brave and generous nation offered up, expressed her grateful sense of it by holding up her hands, with a pleased countenance, to those who were at a distance from her, and by the ‘most tender and gentle language to those who stood near.’ One simple act of kindness was noticed with peculiar commendation. A branch of rosemary given her with a petition, by a poor woman in Fleet-bridge, was seen in her chariot till she came to Westminster. Nor was her reception of the English Bible, which was presented to her in Cheapside, less grateful to the feelings of her people, still bearing in remembrance the persecutions they had received. She not only took it reverently in her hands, but kissed it, and laid it on her bosom; assuring the citizens of her high sense of its value, and that she should read it most diligently.

“I do not think,” said Mr. Wilmot, “that I can conclude these extracts from Holinshed better, than by quoting Miss Aikin’s remarks upon this part of Elizabeth’s life; concluding with the prayer she offered, which has been preserved by the careful chronicler.

“‘With what vivid, and what affecting impressions, (says this lady,) of the vicissitudes attending on the great, must she have passed again within the antique walls of that fortress, once her dungeon, now her palace. She had entered it by the traitors’ gate, a terrified and defenceless prisoner, smarting under many wrongs, hopeless of deliverance, and apprehending nothing less than an ignominious death. She returned to it in all the pomp of royalty, surrounded by the ministers of her power, ushered in by the applauses of her people, the cherished object of every eye, the idol of every heart.

“‘Devotion could alone supply becoming language to the emotions which swelled her bosom; and, no sooner had she reached the royal apartments, than, falling on her knees, she returned humble and hearty thanks in the following prayer.

“‘O Lord Almighty and everlasting God, I give thee most hearty thanks, that thou hast been so merciful to me as to spare me to behold this joyful day. And I acknowledge that thou hast dealt as wonderfully and as mercifully with me, as thou didst with thy true and faithful servant Daniel, thy prophet, whom thou deliveredst out of the den, from the cruelty of the greedy and raging lions; even so was I overwhelmed, and only by thee delivered. To thee, therefore, only be thanks, honour, and praise, for ever. Amen.’

“And now, having conducted Elizabeth to this triumphant moment of her life, we will leave the subject this morning,” said Mr. Wilmot, “and renew it to-morrow.”

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CHAP. VII.

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“THAT Elizabeth was a woman endowed with a masculine mind,” said Mr. Wilmot, “that she was prudent, wise, and energetic to an extraordinary degree, and that she deserves to be ranked amongst the most illustrious of sovereigns, cannot be denied; and yet, contrary to Roger Ascham’s assertions, respecting her early simplicity, we find her, after ascending the throne, uniting to all this greatness of character, a vanity so unbounded, and a love of admiration so childish and weak, that we start at the contrast and inconsistency, displayed at times by this wonderful female.

“Contemporary historians have left on record several descriptions of the public festivities then in fashion; and though it must be allowed, that the spirit of the age fostered this romantic turn of disposition; yet we can hardly help mingling a smile of ridicule, with our admiration of the loftier traits of her mind, when we peruse the accounts of the entertainments with which the queen was wont to be amused, even to a late period of life. Holinshed, with his usual minuteness, has entered very fully into the relation of these festivities; and I shall abridge, for your amusement, one of the many narrations he presents us with.

“In one of her progresses, which were very frequent, she stopped at Norwich, where she was received by the mayor and corporation, with every demonstration of joy, and with a variety of orations and most doggrel rhyme.

“Two days after her arrival, Mercury, in a blue satin doublet, lined with cloth of gold, his garments ‘cut and slashed in the finest manner,’ with a peaked hat of the same colour, as though it would cut and sever the wind asunder; and on the same, a pair of wings, and wings at his feet, in a coach, most extraordinarily painted with birds and naked spirits, hanging by the heels in the air and clouds, and with horses winged and painted, appeared at her window, and invited her to go abroad, and see more shows; and a kind of mask, in which Venus and Cupid, with wantonness and riot, were discomfited, in no very gentle manner, by the goddess of Chastity and her attendants, was exhibited in the open air.

“A troop of nymphs and fairies lay in ambush for her return from dining with the earl of Surry; and in the midst of these heathenish exhibitions, the minister of the Dutch church waited his opportunity to offer to her the grateful homage of his flock. After this oration, a very curious compliment was paid her, in the form of a monument, on which was artificially graven the scriptural history of Joseph; and in the middle of the same device, was a figure of a serpent, entwining itself around a dove, which bore this sentence: ‘Wise as the serpent, and meek as the dove.’

“It appears that the inventing of masks, devices, and pageants, for the recreation of the queen in her progresses, was a distinct profession. George Ferrers, formerly commemorated as inventor of pastimes to Edward the Sixth; one Goldingham; and Churchyard, author of the Worthieness of Wales, of some legends in the Mirror of Magistrates, and of a prodigious quantity of verse on various subjects, were the most celebrated proficients in this branch: all three are handed down to posterity, as contributors to the ‘princely pleasures of Kenilworth;’ and the two latter, as the managers of the Norwich entertainments.

“But although it is not my intention to enter into all the pageants which were exhibited, during the six days of the queen’s stay at Norwich, I cannot, however, pass over the very original one, representing a battle between six gentleman, apparelled only in doublet, hose, and helmet on the head: during which, ‘the legs and arms of men, well and lively wrought, were to be let fall, in numbers, on the ground, as bloody as might be.’ A violent shower of rain prevented Elizabeth’s enjoying this delicate exhibition; and the following day she left the city, passing under wreaths, made of flowers, extended from each side of the street, and mixed with garlands, coronets, pictures, rich cloths, and a thousand devices; whilst songs of lamentation for her departure, and orations on the high honour she had done the inhabitants, saluted her ear, till she reached the purlieus of Norwich.

“Whilst I am willing to allow,” said Mrs. Spencer, “that taste was as yet in its infancy, and the ludicrous incongruities, and pedantic labour, exhibited in these diversions, are characteristic of a semi-barbarous age; still I cannot but express my surprise, that a mind so highly gifted as was that of Elizabeth, could find amusement in such uncouth representations, and puerile performances. But I have not yet, Sir, remarked any evidence of personal vanity. These festivities were contrived by her subjects, not ordered by herself; and she was, in politeness, obliged to listen to the eulogiums of her people, even though the subject were in praise of herself.”

“That is true,” replied Mr. Wilmot; “but I think you will alter your opinion, when you have the account of the entertainments that were conducted by the queen, in honour of the proposals of marriage made to her by the duke of Anjou.

“She caused to be erected, on the south-west side of the palace of 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.