Elmer U. Hoenshel - "My Three Days In Gilead"

William Shakespeare - "Loues Labour's lost"

Millard Fillmore - "State of the Union Addresses of Millard Fillmore"

Virgil/Vergil - "Vergil's Georgics in English"

Windsor Castle

W >> William Harrison Ainsworth >> Windsor Castle




"I crave your grace's pardon for my want of respect," replied the host.
"I am not ignorant of the distinction conferred upon you at the last
match at the castle butts by the king. But to the matter in hand. What
treason hath Mark Fytton, the butcher, been talking?"

"I care not to repeat his words, mine host," replied the duke; "but he
hath spoken in unbecoming terms of his highness and Mistress Anne
Boleyn."

"He means not what he says," rejoined the host. "He is a loyal subject
of the king; but he is apt to get quarrelsome over his cups."

"Well said, honest Bryan," cried the duke; "you have one quality of a
good landlord--that of a peacemaker. Give the knave a cup of ale, and
let him wash down his foul words in a health to the king, wishing him a
speedy divorce and a new queen, and he shall then sit among us
again."

"I do not desire to sit with you, you self-dubbed duke," rejoined Mark;
"but if you will doff your fine jerkin, and stand up with me on the green, I
will give you cause to remember laying hands on me."

"Well challenged, bold butcher!" cried one of Surrey's attendants. "You
shall be made a duke yourself."

"Or a cardinal," cried Mark. "I should not be the first of my brethren
who has met with such preferment."

"He derides the Church in the person of Cardinal Wolsey!" cried the
duke. "He is a blasphemer as well as traitor."

"Drink the king's health in a full cup, Mark," interposed the host,
anxious to set matters aright, "and keep your mischievous tongue
between your teeth."

"Beshrew me if I drink the king's health, or that of his minion, Anne
Boleyn!" cried Mark boldly. "But I will tell you what I will drink. I will
drink the health of King Henry's lawful consort, Catherine of Arragon;
and I will add to it a wish that the Pope may forge her marriage chains
to her royal husband faster than ever."

"A foolish wish," cried Bryan. "Why, Mark, you are clean crazed!"

"It is the king who is crazed, not me! " cried Mark. "He would sacrifice
his rightful consort to his unlawful passion; and you, base hirelings,
support the tyrant in his wrongful conduct I"

"Saints protect us! " exclaimed Bryan. " Why, this is flat treason. Mark,
I can no longer uphold you."

"Not if you do not desire to share his prison, mine host," cried the Duke
of Shoreditch. "You have all heard him call the king a tyrant. Seize him,
my masters!"

"Let them lay hands upon me if they dare!" cried the butcher resolutely.
"I have felled an ox with a blow of my fist before this, and I promise you
I will show them no better treatment."

Awed by Mark's determined manner, the bystanders kept aloof.

"I command you, in the king's name, to seize him!" roared Shoreditch.
"If he offers resistance he will assuredly be hanged."

"No one shall touch me!" cried Mark fiercely.

"That remains to be seen," said the foremost of the Earl of Surrey's
attendants. " Yield, fellow!"

"Never!" replied Mark; "and I warn you to keep off."

The attendant, however, advanced; but before he could lay hands on
the butcher he received a blow from his ox-like fist that sent him reeling
backwards for several paces, and finally stretched him at full length
upon the ground. His companions drew their swords, and would have
instantly fallen upon the sturdy offender, if Morgan Fenwolf, who, with
the Earl of Surrey, was standing among the spectators, had not rushed
forward, and, closing with Mark before the latter could strike a blow,
grappled with him, and held him fast till he was secured, and his arms
tied behind him.

"And so it is you, Morgan Fenwolf, who have served me this ill turn, eh?"
cried the butcher, regarding him fiercely. "I now believe all I have
heard of you."

"What have you heard of him? "asked Surrey, advancing.

"That he has dealings with the fiend--with Herne the Hunter," replied
Mark. "If I am hanged for a traitor, he ought to be burnt for a wizard."

"Heed not what the villain says, my good fellow," said the Duke of
Shoreditch; "you have captured him bravely, and I will take care your
conduct is duly reported to his majesty. To the castle with him! To the
castle! He will lodge to-night in the deepest dungeon of yon
fortification," pointing to the Curfew Tower above them, "there to await
the king's judgment; and to-morrow night it will be well for him if he is
not swinging from the gibbet near the bridge. Bring him along."

And followed by Morgan Fenwolf and the others, with the prisoner, he
strode up the hill.

Long before this Captain Bouchier had issued from the hostel and
joined the earl, and they walked together after the crowd. In a few
minutes the Duke of Shoreditch reached Henry the Eighth's Gate, where
he shouted to a sentinel, and told him what had occurred. After some
delay a wicket in the gate was opened, and the chief persons of the
party were allowed to pass through it with the prisoner, who was
assigned to the custody of a couple of arquebusiers.

By this time an officer had arrived, and it was agreed, at the suggestion
of the Duke of Shoreditch, to take the offender to the Curfew Tower.
Accordingly they crossed the lower ward, and passing beneath an
archway near the semicircular range of habitations allotted to the petty
canons, traversed the space before the west end of Saint George's
Chapel, and descending a short flight of stone steps at the left, and
threading a narrow passage, presently arrived at the arched entrance
in the Curfew, whose hoary walls shone brightly in the moonlight.

They had to knock for some time against the stout oak door before any
notice was taken of the summons. At length an old man, who acted as
bellringer, thrust his head out of one of the narrow pointed windows
above, and demanded their business. Satisfied with the reply, he
descended, and, opening the door, admitted them into a lofty chamber,
the roof of which was composed of stout planks, crossed by heavy
oaken rafters, and supported by beams of the same material. On the
left a steep ladder-like flight of wooden steps led to an upper room, and
from a hole in the roof descended a bell-rope, which was fastened to
one of the beams, showing the use to which the chamber was put.

Some further consultation was now held among the party as to the
propriety of leaving the prisoner in this chamber under the guard of the
arquebusiers, but it was at last decided against doing so, and the old
bellringer being called upon for the keys of the dungeon beneath, he
speedily produced them. They then went forth, and descending a flight
of stone steps on the left, came to a low strong door, which they
unlocked, and obtained admission to a large octangular chamber with a
vaulted roof, and deep embrasures terminated by narrow loopholes.
The light of a lamp carried by the bellringer showed the dreary extent of
the vault, and the enormous thickness of its walls.

"A night's solitary confinement in this place will be of infinite service to
our prisoner," said the Duke of Shoreditch, gazing around. "I'll be sworn
he is ready to bite off the foolish tongue that has brought him to such a
pass."

The butcher made no reply, but being released by the arquebusiers, sat
down upon a bench that constituted the sole furniture of the vault.

"Shall I leave him the lamp?" asked the bellringer; "he may beguile the
time by reading the names of former prisoners scratched on the walls
and in the embrasures."

"No; he shall not even have that miserable satisfaction," returned the
Duke of Shoreditch. "He shall be left in the darkness to his own bad
and bitter thoughts."

With this the party withdrew, and the door was fastened upon the
prisoner. An arquebusier was stationed at the foot of the steps; and the
Earl of Surrey and Captain Bouchier having fully satisfied their curiosity,
shaped their course towards the castle gate. On their way thither the
earl looked about for Morgan Fenwolf, but could nowhere discern him.
He then passed through the wicket with Bouchier, and proceeding to
the Garter, they mounted their steeds, and galloped off towards
Datchet, and thence to Staines and Hampton Court.



III. Of the Grand Procession to Windsor Castle--Of the Meeting of King
Henry the Eighth and Anne Boleyn at the Lower Gate-Of their Entrance
into the Castle--And how the Butcher was Hanged from the Curfew
Tower.


A joyous day was it for Windsor and great were the preparations made
by its loyal inhabitants for a suitable reception to their sovereign. At
an early hour the town was thronged with strangers from the
neighbouring villages, and later on crowds began to arrive from
London, some having come along the highway on horseback, and
others having rowed in various craft up the river. All were clad in
holiday attire, and the streets presented an appearance of unwonted
bustle and gaiety. The Maypole in Bachelors' Acre was hung with
flowers. Several booths, with flags floating above them, were erected
in the same place, where ale, mead, and hypocras, together with cold
pasties, hams, capons, and large joints of beef and mutton, might be
obtained. Mummers and minstrels were in attendance, and every kind
of diversion was going forward. Here was one party wrestling; there
another, casting the bar; on this side a set of rustics were dancing a
merry round with a bevy of buxom Berkshire lasses; on that stood a
fourth group, listening to a youth playing on the recorders. At one end
of the Acre large fires were lighted, before which two whole oxen were
roasting, provided in honour of the occasion by the mayor and
burgesses of the town; at the other, butts were set against which the
Duke of Shoreditch and his companions, the five marquises, were
practising. The duke himself shot admirably, and never failed to hit the
bulls-eye; but the great feat of the day was performed by Morgan
Fenwolf, who thrice split the duke's shafts as they stuck in the mark.

"Well done !" cried the duke, as he witnessed the achievement; "why,
you shoot as bravely as Herne the Hunter. Old wives tell us he used to
split the arrows of his comrades in that fashion."

"He must have learnt the trick from Herne himself in the forest," cried
one of the bystanders.

Morgan Fenwolf looked fiercely round in search of the speaker, but
could not discern him. He, however, shot no more, and refusing a cup
of hypocras offered him by Shoreditch, disappeared among the crowd.

Soon after this the booths were emptied, the bar thrown down, the
Maypole and the butts deserted, and the whole of Bachelors' Acre
cleared of its occupants--except those who were compelled to attend
to the mighty spits turning before the fires--by the loud discharge of
ordnance from the castle gates, accompanied by the ringing of bells,
announcing that the mayor and burgesses of Windsor, together with the
officers of the Order of the Garter, were setting forth to Datchet Bridge
to meet the royal procession.

Those who most promptly obeyed this summons beheld the lower
castle gate, built by the then reigning monarch, open, while from it
issued four trumpeters clad in emblazoned coats, with silken bandrols
depending from their horns, blowing loud fanfares. They were followed
by twelve henchmen, walking four abreast, arrayed in scarlet tunics,
with the royal cypher H.R. worked in gold on the breast, and carrying
gilt poleaxes over their shoulders. Next came a company of archers,
equipped in helm and brigandine, and armed with long pikes, glittering,
as did their steel accoutrements, in the bright sunshine. They were
succeeded by the bailiffs and burgesses of the town, riding three
abreast, and enveloped in gowns of scarlet cloth; after which rode the
mayor of Windsor in a gown of crimson velvet, and attended by two
footmen, in white and red damask, carrying white wands. The mayor
was followed by a company of the town guard, with partisans over the
shoulders. Then came the sheriff of the county and his attendants.
Next followed the twenty-six alms-knights (for such was their number),
walking two and two, and wearing red mantles, with a scutcheon of
Saint George on the shoulder, but without the garter surrounding it.
Then came the thirteen petty canons, in murrey-coloured gowns, with
the arms of Saint George wrought in a roundel on the shoulder; then the
twelve canons, similarly attired; and lastly the dean of the college, in
his cope.

A slight pause ensued, and the chief officers of the Garter made their
appearance. First walked the Black Rod, clothed in a russet-coloured
mantle, faced with alternate panes of blue and red, emblazoned with
flower-de-luces of gold and crowned lions. He carried a small black rod,
the ensign of his office, surmounted with the lion of England in silver.
After the Black Rod came the Garter, habited in a gown of crimson
satin, paned and emblazoned like that of the officer who preceded him,
hearing a white crown with a sceptre upon it, and having a gilt crown in
lieu of a cap upon his head. The Garter was followed by the register, a
grave personage, in a black gown, with a surplice over it, covered by a
mantelet of furs. Then came the chancellor of the Order, in his robe of
murrey-coloured velvet lined with sarcenet, with a badge on the
shoulder consisting of a gold rose, enclosed in a garter wrought with
pearls of damask gold. Lastly came the Bishop of Winchester, the
prelate of the Order, wearing his mitre, and habited in a robe of crimson
velvet lined with white taffeta, faced with blue, and embroidered on the
right shoulder with a scutcheon of Saint George, encompassed with the
Garter, and adorned with cordons of blue silk mingled with gold.

Brought up by a rear guard of halberdiers, the procession moved slowly
along Thames Street, the houses of which, as well as those in Peascod
Street, were all more or less decorated--the humbler sort being covered
with branches of trees, intermingled with garlands of flowers, while the
better description was hung with pieces of tapestry, carpets, and rich
stuffs. Nor should it pass unnoticed that the loyalty of Bryan
Bowntance, the host of the Garter, had exhibited itself in an arch
thrown across the road opposite his house, adorned with various
coloured ribbons and flowers, in the midst of which was a large shield,
exhibiting the letters, b. and h. (in mystic allusion to Henry and Anne
Boleyn) intermingled and surrounded by love-knots.

Turning off on the left into the lower road, skirting the north of the
castle, and following the course of the river to Datchet, by which it was
understood the royal cavalcade would make its approach, the
procession arrived at an open space by the side of the river, where it
came to a halt, and the dean, chancellor, and prelate, together with
other officers of the Garter, embarked in a barge moored to the bank,
which was towed slowly down the stream in the direction of Datchet
Bridge--a band of minstrels stationed within it playing all the time.

Meanwhile the rest of the cavalcade, having again set for ward,
pursued their course along the banks of the river, proceeding at a foot's
pace, and accompanied by crowds of spectators, cheering them as
they moved along. The day was bright and beautiful, and nothing was
wanting to enhance the beauty of the spectacle. On the left flowed the
silver Thames, crowded with craft, filled with richly-dressed personages
of both sexes, amid which floated the pompous barge appropriated to
the officers of the Garter, which was hung with banners and streamers,
and decorated at the sides with targets, emblazoned with the arms of
St. George. On the greensward edging the stream marched a brilliant
cavalcade, and on the right lay the old woods of the Home Park, with
long vistas opening through them, giving exquisite peeps of the towers
and battlements of the castle.

Half an hour brought the cavalcade to Datchet Bridge, at the foot of
which a pavilion was erected for the accommodation of the mayor and
burgesses. And here, having dismounted, they awaited the king's
arrival.

Shortly after this a cloud of dust on the Staines Road seemed to
announce the approach of the royal party, and all rushed forth and held
themselves in readiness to meet it. But the dust appeared to have
been raised by a company of horsemen, headed by Captain Bouchier,
who rode up the next moment. Courteously saluting the mayor,
Bouchier informed him that Mistress Anne Boleyn was close behind,
and that it was the king's pleasure that she should be attended in all
state to the lower gate of the castle, there to await his coming, as he
himself intended to enter it with her. The mayor replied that the
sovereign's behests should be implicitly obeyed, and he thereupon
stationed himself at the farther side of the bridge in expectation of
Anne Boleyn's arrival.

Presently the sound of trumpets smote his ear, and a numerous and
splendid retinue was seen advancing, consisting of nobles, knights,
esquires, and gentlemen, ranged according to their degrees, and all
sumptuously apparelled in cloths of gold and silver, and velvets of
various colours, richly embroidered. Besides these, there were pages
and other attendants in the liveries of their masters, together with
sergeants of the guard and henchmen in their full accoutrements.
Among the nobles were the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk--the king being
desirous of honouring as much as possible her whom he had resolved
to make his queen. The former was clothed in tissue, embroidered with
roses of gold, with a baldric across his body of massive gold, and was
mounted on a charger likewise trapped in gold; and the latter wore a
mantle of cloth of silver, pounced in the form of letters, and lined with
blue velvet, while his horse was trapped bardwise in harness
embroidered with bullion gold curiously wrought. Both also wore the
collar of the Order of the Garter. Near them rode Sir Thomas Boleyn,
who, conscious of the dignity to which his daughter was to be
advanced, comported himself with almost intolerable haughtiness.

Immediately behind Sir Thomas Boleyn came a sumptuous litter
covered with cloth of gold, drawn by four white palfreys caparisoned in
white damask down to the ground, and each having a page in white and
blue satin at its head. Over the litter was borne a canopy of cloth of
gold supported by four gilt staves, and ornamented at the corners with
silver bells, ringing forth sweet music as it moved along. Each staff
was borne by a knight, of whom sixteen were in attendance to relieve
one another when fatigued.

In this litter sat Anne Boleyn. She wore a surcoat of white tissue, and a
mantle of the same material lined with ermine. Her gown, which,
however, was now concealed by the surcoat, was of cloth of gold
tissue, raised with pearls of silver damask, with a stomacher of purple
gold similarly raised, and large open sleeves lined with chequered
tissue. Around her neck she wore a chain of orient pearls, from which
depended a diamond cross. A black velvet cap, richly embroidered with
pearls and other precious stones, and ornamented with a small white
plume, covered her head; and her small feet were hidden in blue velvet
brodequins, decorated with diamond stars.

Anne Boleyn's features were exquisitely formed, and though not
regular, far more charming than if they had been so. Her nose was
slightly aquiline, but not enough so to detract from its beauty, and had
a little retrousse; point that completed its attraction. The rest
of her features were delicately chiselled: the chin being beautifully
rounded, the brow smooth and white as snow, while the rose could not
vie with the bloom of her cheek. Her neck--alas! that the fell hand of
the executioner should ever touch it--was long and slender, her eyes
large and blue, and of irresistible witchery--sometimes scorching the
beholder like a sunbeam, anon melting him with soul-subduing softness.

Of her accomplishments other opportunities will be found to speak; but
it may be mentioned that she was skilled on many instruments, danced
and sang divinely, and had rare powers of conversation and wit. If to
these she had not added the dangerous desire to please, and the wish
to hold other hearts than the royal one she had enslaved, in thraldom,
all might, perhaps, have been well. But, alas like many other beautiful
women, she had a strong tendency to coquetry. How severely she
suffered for it, it is the purpose of this history to relate. An excellent
description of her has been given by a contemporary writer, the Comte
de Chateaubriand, who, while somewhat disparaging her personal
attractions, speaks in rapturous terms of her accomplishments: "Anne,"
writes the Comte, " avait un esprit si deslie qui c'estoit a qui l'ouiroit
desgoiser; et ci venoitelle a poetiser, telle qu' Orpheus, elle eust faict
les ours et rochers attentifs: puis saltoit, balloit, et dancoit toutes
dances Anglaises ou Estranges, et en imagina nombre qui ont garde
son nom ou celluy du galant pour qui les feit: puis scavoit tous les jeux,
qu'elle jouoit avec non plus d'heur que d'habilite puis chantoit comme
syrene, s'accompagnant de luth; harpoit mieuelx que le roy David, et
manioit fort gentilment fleuste et rebec; puis s'accoustroit de tant et si
merveilleuses facons, que ses inventions, faisoient d'elle le parangon
de toutes des dames les plus sucrees de la court; mais nulle n'avoit sa
grace, laquelle, au dire d'un ancien, passe venuste'." Such was the
opinion of one who knew her well during her residence at the French
court, when in attendance on Mary of England, consort of Louis XII.,
and afterwards Duchess of Suffolk.

At this moment Anne's eyes were fixed with some tenderness upon one
of the supporters of her canopy on the right--a very handsome young
man, attired in a doublet and hose of black tylsent, paned and cut, and
whose tall, well-proportioned figure was seen to the greatest
advantage, inasmuch as he had divested himself of his mantle, for his
better convenience in walking.

"I fear me you will fatigue yourself, Sir Thomas Wyat," said Anne Boleyn,
in tones of musical sweetness, which made the heart beat and the
colour mount to the cheeks of him she addressed. "You had better
allow Sir Thomas Arundel or Sir John Hulstone to relieve you."

"I can feel no fatigue when near you, madam," replied Wyat, in a low
tone.

A slight blush overspread Anne's features, and she raised her
embroidered kerchief to her lips.

"If I had that kerchief I would wear it at the next lists, and defy all
comers," said Wyat.

"You shall have it, then," rejoined Anne. "I love all chivalrous exploits,
and will do my best to encourage them."

"Take heed, Sir Thomas," said Sir Francis Weston, the knight who held
the staff on the other side," or we shall have the canopy down. Let Sir
Thomas Arundel relieve you."

"No," rejoined Wyat, recovering himself; "I will not rest till we come to
the bridge."

"You are in no haste to possess the kerchief," said Anne petulantly.

"There you wrong me, madam! "cried Sir Thomas eagerly.

"What ho, good fellows!" he shouted to the attendants at the palfreys'
heads, "your lady desires you to stop."

And I desire them to go on--I, Will Sommers, jester to the high and
mighty King Harry the Eighth!" cried a voice of mock authority behind
the knight. "What if Sir Thomas Wyat has undertaken to carry the
canopy farther than any of his companions, is that a reason he should
be relieved? Of a surety not--go on, I say!"

The person who thus spoke then stepped forward, and threw a glance
so full of significance at Anne Boleyn that she did not care to dispute
the order, but, on the contrary, laughingly acquiesced in it.

Will Sommers--the king's jester, as he described himself--was a small
middle-aged personage, with a physiognomy in which good nature and
malice, folly and shrewdness, were so oddly blended, that it was
difficult to say which predominated. His look was cunning and
sarcastic, but it was tempered by great drollery and oddity of manner,
and he laughed so heartily at his own jests and jibes, that it was
scarcely possible to help joining him. His attire consisted of a long
loose gown of spotted crimson silk, with the royal cipher woven in front
in gold; hose of blue cloth, guarded with red and black cloth; and red
cordovan buskins. A sash tied round his waist served him instead of a
girdle, and he wore a trencher-shaped velvet cap on his head, with a
white tufted feather in it. In his hand he carried a small horn. He was
generally attended by a monkey, habited in a crimson doublet and
hood, which sat upon his shoulder, and played very diverting tricks, but
the animal was not with him on the present occasion.

Will Sommers was a great favourite with the king, and ventured upon
familiarities which no one else dared to use with him. The favour in
which he stood with his royal master procured him admittance to his
presence at all hours and at all seasons, and his influence, though
seldom exerted, was very great. He was especially serviceable in
turning aside the edge of the king's displeasure, and more frequently
exerted himself to allay the storm than to raise it. His principal hostility
was directed against Wolsey, whose arrogance and grasping practices
were the constant subjects of his railing. It was seldom, such was his
privileged character, and the protection he enjoyed from the sovereign,
that any of the courtiers resented his remarks; but Sir Thomas Wyat's
feelings being now deeply interested, he turned sharply round, and
said, "How now, thou meddling varlet, what business hast thou to
interfere?"

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