The History of London - Walter Besant (children's books read aloud txt) 📗

and Mary: the same two, at Temple Bar, afterwards welcomed Elizabeth. The pair of giants now in Guildhall were carved in 1707. The names Gog and Magog are wrong. The original names were Gogmagog and Corineus.

The following account of the Pageant to celebrate the return of the victor Henry V. after Agincourt is preserved in Stow's 'London.'

The Mayor and Aldermen, dressed in scarlet, with collars and chains, with 400 citizens in 'murrey,' all well mounted, rode out to meet the King at Blackheath. Then, after formal greetings, they all rode to London. In Southwark the King was met by all the London clergy in their most sumptuous robes, with crosses and censers. At the entrance of London Bridge, on the top of the tower, stood a pair of giants, male and female, the former bearing in his right hand an axe, and in his left hand the keys of the City. Around them stood a band of trumpeters.

On the drawbridge were two lofty columns, on one of which stood an antelope and on the other a lion--both the King's crests.

At the other end of the Bridge was another tower, and within it an image of St. George, with a great number of boys representing angels. These sang an anthem, 'Give thanks, O England, to God for victory.' This is supposed to be preserved in the song 'Our King went forth to Normandy.'

On Cornhill there was erected a tent of crimson cloth ornamented with the King's arms. Within it was a company of 'prophets' in golden coats. As the King approached they set loose a great number of small birds, which fluttered about while the 'prophets' sung 'Cantate Domino canticum novum'--'Sing unto the Lord a new song.'

In Cheapside the conduit was hung with green. Here sat the twelve Apostles and the twelve Kings, Martyrs and Confessors of England. They also sung a chant and made the conduit run with wine. This represented the reception of Abraham by Melchisedek.

The Cross of Chepe was built over by a high tower of wood covered all over with splendid coats of arms. There was a stage in front, on which a crowd of girls came with timbrels dancing and singing. Thus the maidens welcomed David when he returned from the slaughter of Goliath. And all about the building were crowds of boys, representing the Heavenly Host, who showered down coins resembling gold, and boughs of laurel, and sang 'Te Deum Laudamus.'

Lastly, there was another tower at the west end of Chepe. In each corner of this stood a girl, who out of a cup strewed golden leaves before the feet of the King. And there was a high canopy painted with blue and stars, and beneath a figure all gold, to represent the sun surrounded by angels singing and playing all kinds of musical instruments.

This witnessed, the King went on to St. Paul's to pay his devotions.

When you read this bald account of one of the greatest Pageants ever celebrated in the City, you must fill it up by imagining the long procession, every one in his place. Trumpeters, bowmen in leather jerkins, men-at-arms in shining helmet and cuirass, horsemen in full armour, knights, nobles, heralds all in full panoply, banners and bannerets, the Bishop and all the clergy, the King and his retinue, the Lord Mayor and his four hundred followers. Imagine the blare of the trumpets, the singing of the chants, the roaring of the people, the crimson hangings all along the line of march at every window. There were no police to keep the line: you might see the burgesses running out of the taverns on their way with blackjacks of Malmsey to regale the gallant soldiers who had fought and won the victory. You would see the King bareheaded. Why was he bareheaded? Because he was so modest--this brave King. Because he would not let the people see his helmet dinted and misshapen with the signs and scars of hard battle in which he had played his part as well as any humble leather-jerkined bowman in his array. Your ancestors, these soldiers and these citizens: your forefathers. They knew, far better than you will ever know, how to marshal a gallant show. We have lost the art of making a Pageant. It remains with us--once a year--in the Lord Mayor's Show. But think of Henry's Riding into London compared with the Lord Mayor's Show!



48. PLAYS AND PAGEANTS.

PART III.

Between the Pageant and the Play stands the Masque, a form of entertainment which achieved its greatest splendour both in stage mounting and in the words and songs in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. Nowhere was the Masque more carefully studied and more magnificently presented than in London. The scenic display which in the early theatre was so meagre was carried in the Masque to a height never surpassed until the splendid shows of the present day. Nor did the greatest poets disdain to write words for the Masque. The most beautiful of those which remain are to be found in Ben Jonson's works. Every great man's house had a hall which was used for the Masque. Bacon, who gives directions for building a house, orders that there must be a room built on purpose for these performances. Under it is to be another room for the actors to dress and for the 'properties'--i.e. the things requisite for the presentation of the Masque, such as scenery, the woods, fountains, rocks, palaces, &c.--that might be required. Let us show what a Masque was like by describing one of Ben Jonson's. It is called the Masque of Oberon, and was performed before Prince Henry, the eldest son of James I., who died in youth.

The scene presents a rock with trees beyond it and 'all the wildness that can be presented.' All is dark. Presently the moon rising shows a Satyr, one of the beings with whom the ancients peopled the forests and wild places. They were drawn with the feet and legs of goats, short horns on the head, and the body covered with thick hair. This Satyr lifts his head and calls his companions. There is no answer. He blows his cornet. Echo answers him. He blows again, and is again mocked by the Echo. A third time he blows, and other Satyrs come leaping and dancing upon the stage. Silenus, their leader, bids them prepare to see the young Prince Oberon.

The scene opens: the rocks and forests disappear: there is shown a glorious palace whose walls and gates are transparent. Before the gates lie asleep two 'Sylvans'--i.e. men of the woods. The Satyrs gather round these sleeping sentinels and wake them up with singing:


Buzz, quoth the blue fly:
Hum, quoth the bee:
Buzz and hum they cry
And so do we.
In his ear, in his nose,
Thus do you see? [They tickle them.]
He ate the dormouse
Else it was he.


The Sylvans wake: they explain that it is yet too early for the gates to open. Meantime let them sing and dance to while away the time. One of them sings therefore. After the song they fall into an 'antick dance full of gesture and swift motion' and thus continue till the crowing of a cock gives the signal for the whole palace to open. It is like a transformation scene at a pantomime. There is the palace with all its occupants--the 'whole nation of Fays' or Fairies. Some are playing instruments of music; some are singing: some are bearing lights: at the back of the stage sit the 'Knights masquers.' With them Oberon in his chariot. And then, drawn by two white bears, guarded by three Sylvans on each side, the chariot moves down the stage. Observe that to produce all these effects the stage must have been very deep. The song they sing is in praise of the King:


Melt earth to sea, sea flow to air,
And air fly into fire,
Whilst we in tunes to Arthur's chair
Bear Oberon's desire:
Than which there's nothing can be higher
Save James to whom it flies:
But he the wonder is of tongues and ears and eyes--


The Satyrs leap and dance again for joy at so splendid a sight.

Then Silenus speaks in praise of Prince Oberon, who is, of course, Prince Henry, the elder son of James, who died young. The flattery is no worse than was usual in Masques. Silenus says that the Prince--


Stays the time from turning old,
And keeps the age up in a head of gold.
He makes it ever day and ever spring
When he doth shine, and quickens everything.


Then two Fays sing a song and all the Fays together dance, after which all together sing. Then Oberon and his knights dance. Another song follows. Then they all together dance 'measures, corantos, and galliards,' till Phosphorus the day star appears and calls them away--


To rest! To rest! The herald of the day,
Bright Phosphorus commands you hence. Obey.


They quickly dance their last dance, one by one getting into the Palace. Then the Star vanishes, the day breaks, and while the last song is sung the 'machine closes'--i.e. the Palace becomes a wall of the room and the show is over. This is the pretty song which ends the Masque:

O yet how early and before her time,
The envious morning up doth climb,
Though she not love her bed!
What haste the jealous sun doth make
His fiery horses up to take
And once more show his head!
Lest, taken with the brightness of this night,
The world should wish it last and never miss his light.

49. PLAYS AND PAGEANTS.

PART IV.

Through the Religious Drama, the Pageant, the Masque, we work our way to the Play itself. The first beginnings of the modern Drama must here be passed over: there were the rough and unformed comedies such as 'Gammer Gurton's Needle,' performed in a college hall: or the tragedy played on boards spread over a waggon in the courtyard of an inn. Let us suppose that we are past the beginnings and are in Shakespeare's time--i.e. the end of Queen Elizabeth and the whole reign of James I.

The first theatre was built in 1570. Thirty years after there were seven. The Queen had companies of children to play before her. They were the boys of the choirs of St. Paul's, Westminster, Whitehall, and Windsor. The actors called themselves the servants of some great lord. Lord Leicester, Lord Warwick, Lord Pembroke, Lord Howard, the Earl of Essex, and others all had their company of actors--not all at the same time. The principal Houses were those at Southwark, and especially at Bank Side, where there were three, including the famous Globe: the Blackfriars Playhouse: the Fortune in Golden Lane, and the Curtain at Shoreditch. If you will look at the map you will observe that not one of these theatres is within the City--that at Blackfriars was in the former