“Peace boy!” said Doctor Hollister, sternly.
“Honorificabilitudinitatibus!” glibly replied the lad with a mock obeisance. This extraordinary word, which Shakespeare had put into the mouth of one of his characters, caught the fancy of the London populace as a similar verbal monstrosity—Cryptoconcodycyphernostamata—did about twenty-five years ago.
Doctor Hollister had the greatest difficulty in restraining the boys from replying to these gibes with their fists and Jack, in particular, begged earnestly to be permitted to “lay just one of them by the heels.” But the Doctor had been a chorister of Paule’s in his boyhood and he knew the formidable character of the London apprentices and how, at the cry of “Clubs! Clubs!” they would swarm with their staves to the aid of one of their number.
Presently they came to the great cathedral, and were surprised to find that the holy edifice was used as a public thoroughfare, even animals being driven across its nave, whilst hawkers displayed their wares around the columns and gallants and gossips lounged about on the seats—all this, too, during the celebration of divine service. The lads who had been brought up in reverence of their country church were shocked at the sights around them and little disposed to linger in the building.
Leaving the churchyard of the cathedral, Doctor Hollister led the way down Dowgate Hill to the water front, wishing to afford the boys sight of two unusually interesting buildings. One of these was Baynard Castle, of which mention has already been made, but the other had the greater attraction for Jack on account of being the residence of his hero, Sir Francis Drake. It had formerly been known as Eber House, when it was the palace of Warwick, the “Kingmaker,” whom you will remember as the titular character of “The Last of the Barons.” Later the place was occupied by that “false, fleeting, perjured Clarence” whose dream is one of the most impressive passages in Shakespeare’s tragedy, Richard the Third.
Passing Westminster and the little village of Charing Cross, our travelers came upon the Palace of Whitehall fronting upon the Thames and with Saint James’s Park at its back. In Elizabeth’s time this royal residence was the scene of such splendid entertainments as marked its occupancy by her father, Henry the Eighth. At this period it stood outside of London on the outskirts of what was the distinct city of Westminster.
Sir Francis Walsingham received Doctor Hollister kindly and promised to facilitate the journey of the party to France. The Queen was about to go to the royal chapel in state and the minister secured a favorable position from which the country visitors had a good view of Elizabeth and her attendants. In the meanwhile a secretary was instructed to write the passports and letters to be delivered to the Doctor before his departure.
The royal procession appeared to the sound of trumpets blown by six heralds who walked in advance. First, after them, came gentlemen of the court and noblemen, richly dressed and bareheaded; next the Chancellor, bearing the state seal in a red silk purse, on one side of him an official carrying the royal scepter, on the other one bearing the sword of state in a red velvet scabbard, studded with golden fleur de lis. Then followed the Queen with majestic mien, her oval face fair but wrinkled; her black eyes small but pleasing. Her nose was somewhat aquiline and her lips thin and straight. She wore false hair of bright red topped by a small crown.
As she moved slowly along between lines of courtiers and representatives of foreign nations, she spoke graciously to one and another and, when occasion needed, with fluency in French or Italian. When one spoke to her, he did so kneeling, and whenever she turned toward a group, all fell upon their knees. It was these ceremonies that made the Court such an irksome place to bluff soldiers such as Lord Willoughby.
The Queen was guarded on each side by the gentlemen pensioners, fifty in number, with gilt battle axes. Following her came the ladies of the Court, for the most part dressed in handsome gowns of white taffeta or some other rich stuff.