Read Ebook: William Shakespeare as He Lived: An Historical Tale by Curling Henry

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Ebook has 834 lines and 52389 words, and 17 pages

The Earl of Leicester and his officers received her on landing; and two thousand horse, dividing into two brigades, together with two thousand infantry, formed her immediate guard.

The next day she reviewed her troops on the hill near Tilbury church, attended by the Earls of Leicester and Ormond. She wore a corslet of polished steel upon her breast, and thus, bare-headed, and carrying a marshal's truncheon in her hand, she rode through the ranks amidst the most deafening cheers; after which she harangued the host in a speech of considerable length.

He saw that lion-hearted woman, and who had then borne the sceptre for thirty years; her body cleped in steel; her high pale forehead furrowed with care; her bright and piercing eye, and her majestic form unbent by the pressure of years. He saw her thus, mounted upon her magnificent steed, like a true daughter of the Plantagenet, vindicating the honour of her kingdom. He saw her thus, undismayed by the tremendous armament threatening her coast, pass on from rank to rank, "with cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty;" and as she rode--

"A largess universal, like the sun, Her liberal eye did give to every one."

And so the eye of the "poor player" pierced through the camp and witnessed all the "pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war;" himself, in his humble suit of buff, with buck and breast and helm of a common soldier, the greatest man there. He saw the tented field, so as only a nation's "endeavour for defence" could have shown it him. He mingled amongst tho white tents of the soldiery, and he visited the huts made of boughs of trees and poles, beneath which many of the gentry from the various counties and their followers were sheltered.

At this period of his life his profusion had made him known to many of the nobles and leaders present, and those who fell in with him were pleased to have a word with "the pleasant Willie" amidst the excitement and bustle of the hour. As he turned from the scene, and, with his companions threaded his way amidst the crowd of soldiers, suttlers, and the other accompaniments of a huge army, he was met and accosted by one high in authority amongst the host.

"Ah! Will Shakespeare," said the noble, "hast thou too put thyself in arms? 'Fore Heaven, man, thou shalt come with me to my tent. See, here is my Lord of Southampton, and other gallants, 'the very elements of the camp,' would fain have a rouse ere they wait upon the Queen. Come, man, a word from thee will spice the cup. No denial," continued the noble, as Shakespeare endeavoured to excuse himself on the plea of wishing to make on toward Dover that night. "No denial. Come, thou shalt cup us this day in the field. I could better lack the best of my followers on the day of battle than lose thee now we have once met here. What says't thou, my Lord of Southampton, thou canst not excuse the gentle William, eh?" And so it was late in the day ere Shakespeare left the tented field of Tilbury.

When he did so he crossed over a bridge of boats and barges which had been drawn across the Thames at Gravesend. This bridge had been constructed for the purpose of opposing the passage of the invading fleet, should any portion of the expedition succeed in crossing the Nore, and to afford a means of communication for supplies of men and munition from Kent and Sussex.

With two or three companions Shakespeare hastened, after leaving Gravesend, along the Old Kent Road, then the most beaten track in England.

Thus then, under circumstances so peculiar, the players found themselves in the county of Kent, that interesting county, which has been the battle-ground of the English for so many centuries, and which yet retains the ancient name Caesar, conferred upon it upwards of eighteen hundred years before.

Much as was the traffic on this thoroughfare at the period of our story, the road was still in a very primitive state, thickly shadowed by trees on either side, ill kept and full of deep ruts and quagmires, whilst the country on either hand seemed one entire forest, and thus, amidst the bustle of the time, troops marching and counter-marching, "posts tiring on," pack-horses, and wains, and carriers occasionally overtaking them, Shakespeare took his way.

We leave our readers to imagine the feelings of the poet as he passed along this, the old Roman road.

As his eye pierced through the gloom, he beheld the road ascending through a leafy tunnel, and as he mounted a steep hill, he looked into the thick shadow on either hand, and then stopped and contemplated the place with a curious eye. It is more than probable, whilst he looked upon this locality, covered as it was with enormous trees, the road darkened by their shadow, the overhanging bank covered with fern, the crow winging to his nest, the moon just beginning to appear, that some passages he had perused in one of the old chronicles of England flashed across his brain, for in the scene thus beheld at so sweet an hour Shakespeare looked upon GAD'S HILL.

THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA.

At a time when every rank of men in England buried all party distinctions, and prepared with order, as well as vigour, to resist the violence of the invaders, the Catholics throughout the land were not found wanting. Many gentlemen of that sect, conscious that they could not justly expect either trust or authority, entered themselves as volunteers in the fleet or army, whilst many equipped ships at their own charge, and gave the command of them to Protestants; others again bestirred themselves, and animated their tenantry, servants, and neighbours to join in the defence.

Amongst these, Sir Hugh Clopton and Walter Arderne had manfully bestirred themselves. Sir Hugh had mustered his servants and followers, and putting them under conduct of his good friend, Sir Thomas Lucy, marched off as a simple volunteer to Tilbury Camp, whilst Walter Arderne, with no less zeal, and tenfold means, had equipped several ships at his own charge, intending to join Sir Francis Drake.

And thus having brought our readers to this period of general enthusiasm, we now almost lose sight of the individuals more immediately connected with our story in the universal excitement. The huge Armada, after having by a variety of reports seemed to threaten every foot of the coast in turn, was at length first discerned making its approach. A Dutch pirate brought intelligence to Plymouth that the Duke of Medina Sidonia was in reality in the English Channel. The captains and commanders of the English vessels were at the moment of this intelligence being brought playing at bowls at Plymouth; and Sir Francis Drake, with the true spirit of an English seaman, insisted upon playing out the game. "Play it out," my masters all, he said, "play it out. We have plenty of time to win the game first and beat the Spaniards afterwards."

A south-west wind, however, blew so strongly at the moment that the vessels had considerable difficulty in warping out. At length, however, by the tremendous efforts of all hands, the English ships were fairly at sea, and, with every sail set, bearing up for the enemy.

"And now sits expectant in the air,"

for whilst the sea bears upon its bosom the opposing fleets, the shores of England are bristling with the armed legions watching the event. The islanders standing "like greyhounds in the slips straining upon the start," and thus, whilst "borne by the invisible and creeping wind," the ships neared each other, was to be seen those characteristics of the islanders which furnished forth descriptions like the blast of trumpet to a Briton's ear.

"On! on! you noblest English, Whose blood is set from fathers of war proof! Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. Dishonour not your mothers. Now attest, That those that you call'd fathers, did beget you; Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war."

It is not our purpose fully to describe the action with, and the discomfiture of, the Huge Don, only such portions of the engagement as embraces the fate of those connected with our story being necessary.

Suffice it then that the fleet of the mighty Spaniard came on slowly, awfully, and, according to the description given by Camden, so tremendous in appearance that the very winds seemed tired of propelling and the ocean groaned with its weight. That the English ships, dwarfs as they appeared by comparison, and few as they were in number, resolutely encountered, and, like bulldogs, which never leave the animal they are pitted against whilst life lasts, stuck to and worried the bloated Don till they completely pulled down his pride.

The proximity of Plymouth to the Spanish coast had rendered it probable that that part of England would be selected by the enemy for his first attempt, and there accordingly the Queen had appointed as Guardian one of the noblest and most approved soldiers of her realm. That aspiring hero, the gallant Sir Walter Raleigh, in himself a host at such a moment, was appointed Lord-Warden of Plymouth, with office of Lieutenant-General of the county of Cornwall, and 5,000 men under him.

No post or appointment on land, however, could satisfy such a man, when he himself knew the element on which the English ought to meet their foes was the sea. Accordingly, the blast of war and the thunder at the cannon found Sir Walter amidst the foremost, fighting hand to hand like some avenger, and covered with the smoke and blood of the hot encounter. Sir Walter, indeed, with a brilliant company of nobles and gentlemen, had left Plymouth in a small squadron, and quickly came up with the Spanish fleet. As they sighted the enemy, it was joined by a small force fitted out by Walter Arderne, and the two made into the midst of the fight.

Notwithstanding, however, the desperate valour of Sir Walter Raleigh, and which at times amounted to rashness, in the present instance he displayed his superior seamanship, and used discretion. He was aware that the lighter and less numerous vessels of the English had an advantage over the unwieldy Spanish galleons, provided the former avoided close quarters.

He therefore ran near the floating castles of the enemy, and poured in his broadsides, whilst they found it almost impossible to bring their great ordnance to bear, ere he was off again. This plan of operation was adopted by the whole English fleet. Ever asunder, but always in motion, they took advantage of the wind to tack whenever they could most annoy the foe; pouring in broadside after broadside, and sheering off out of range of the Spanish guns, and then again boldly returning ere the latter could well reload; performing, as Sir Henry Wooton described it, a perfect morris-dance upon the water.

It was in vain that the Spanish fleet bore down upon their antagonists, anxious, by bringing them to a closer action, at once to destroy them. The skilful English sailors avoided the contact by continually separating into small divisions. Six of the English ships, however, led by Sir Martin Frobisher and Lord Thomas Howard, were so disjoined from the rest, that the galleasses of the Armada came close upon them, and continued a desperate engagement for many hours. At the same time, another squadron of the English fiercely assailed the division of the Armada stationed to the westward; nay, such was the desperation of the English, that they in a short time disabled every ship in the line there.

Amidst the storm of hurling iron, hid from one another by volumes of white smoke which hung upon the waters and enveloped everything around, two individuals sprang from their vessels, and, followed by their crews, sword in hand, clambered with desperate energy up the hull of one of the Spanish ships. The dense smoke on all sides is only relieved by the rapid volume of fire which seemed to pour out of every part of the Spaniard. The tearing of timbers, the shriek of agony, the cry of despair, and the deep curse, is answered by the wild joyous cheer of the jolly Briton. Amidst a storm of blows, the two leaders, the forlorn hope of the boarders, gaining the high deck of the Spanish craft, sprung upon the enemy's deck, where they were instantly followed by their strong-armed countrymen. What can resist, what can front them and live! Their blows are like the lightning's flash! Their force, strength, and ire, is terrible to look upon! They carve a passage; they bear down all before them! The deck of the Spaniard is slippery with blood; the thunder of the cannon is even hushed for the instant; and then is heard the ringing noise of hundreds hand-to-hand,--the cold dull smite of steel upon the body, the deadly curse, the cry of horror, and the shriek of death.

During this terrible encounter, even whilst mounting the side of the Spanish vessel, the two men we have first described caught sight of, and recognised each other. In the face of him who sprang from a small craft called the Falcon, one of the sometime players of the Globe recognized Walter Arderne; and in that countenance beside him, although now with smoke and powder disguised "as if besmeared in hell," Arderne has for an instant recognised the features of one known in fair Warwickshire in happier days. They see, they recognized each other, but their thoughts are as the red flash of the artillery around them, and the next moment they are in the midst of blows and death. A contest of this sort, so fought and followed, is seldom of long duration. One side or other must generally be overborne; and, accordingly, the entire crew of the Spanish galleon were either driven to the poop of their vessel, or dead upon her decks. So numerous, however, were the Spaniards, that even in this desperate extremity they were formidable; and still the contest raged.

Hard pressed, the latter turns and flies below. Entering his cabin, he snatches up a pistol, and attempts to fire it into a huge barrel of gunpowder, and so blow up his vessel. Like lightning the Englishman strikes the pistol from his grasp, and calls upon him to yield.

Amidst the turmoil, confusion, and horror of such a scene, the "poor player," who had thus rescued the youth from death, and borne him to a place of comparative safety, had but small leisure to pay attention to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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