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KENILWORTH
By SIR WALTER SCOTT THERE could be no fitter setting for a story of love and tragedy than that afforded by the court of England during the reign of Elizabeth. It was the heyday of gorgeous costuming and an age saturated with the occult. Every one patronized the astrologers and the alchemists. The queen coupled with the dignity and strength of the monarch the foibles of the weak. It was her policy to play one favorite against another and thereby secure the working of her own strong will, but she often gave way to furious temper and she was most susceptible to flattery. She was forever undecided between her duty to her subjects and her attachment to Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester, whom it was commonly reported that she really intended to marry, for he was a courtier par excellence, and his ambition to share the throne over-powered every other purpose of his life. He had, however, been secretly wedded to Amy Robsart, and so, to further his chances to be king, he consorted with one Richard Varney, and plotted the murder of his wife, which was accomplished at Abingdon Manor. These threads of fact, with many others of fancy, Scott wove into the fabric of Kenilworth. To him who would listen to those who make fulsome compliment and laudation a fine art, to one who would understand the subtle poisoning of the mind by insinuation, to such as are interested in the machinations of men and women anxious to mingle in high society, to all who would be regaled by the conversations of lords and ladies and have unfolded for their edification a phase of history which never appears in the text-books of our schools, at the same time that they are reading a romance of wonderful interest and plot, Kenilworth offers a rare and wholesome treat. The story opens at an inn kept by one Gosling, whose nephew, Michael Lambourne, a swaggering drunkard, returns after years of absence and finds that Tony Foster, an old crony, who lighted the fires when Latimer and Ridley were burned, is keeping guard over a beautiful woman at Cumnor Mansion. Lambourne gains admission there, accompanied by Tressilian, a knight of peerless character, who is in search of her to whom he has been betrothed and who has been lured away from her father's house. Lam-bourne becomes an accomplice in crime with Foster, and Tressilian meets the mysterious lady, who proves to be none other than Amy Robsart, for it was she who was his promised bride. He tries to persuade her to return to her father, but in vain, and in attempting to escape from the premises he meets Richard Varney, master of horse to Leicester, a shrewd, calculating villain, who is a constant spur to the earl's ambition to be king. Tressilian naturally concludes that Amy is this fellow's mistress, and, drawing his sword, overcomes and would have slain him but for the timely arrival of Lambourne, when he was obliged to flee, and, knowing the queen's interest in such affairs, he resolves to obtain her intervention in Amy's behalf. And here Scott makes use of a super-9titious bent of the age. Tressilian's horse loses a shoe and a blacksmith cannot be found until an imp of a boy leads the way to a mysterious farrier, named Wayland Smith, who is thought by those who know him to be an emissary of Satan and who turns out to be an alchemist with a laboratory underground, and who is persuaded do enter the employ of Tressilian, and with him visits Sir Hugh Robsart, who signs a warrant of attorney to help to secure Leicester's powerful influence in persuading the queen to free Amy from Varney. Tressilian and Wayland soon after this make a visit to Lord Sussex, and when he, for a seeming discourtesy to the queen's physician, is called to court for explanation, they accompany him. The depicting of this trip to Greenwich is fascinating. The obeisance to royalty; the first step in Sir Walter Raleigh's career when he submits his elegant cloak for Elizabeth to walk upon; the boat; the river; the discussion of Shakespeare and a hundred touches of genius-it must be read in full to be appreciated. Sussex, upon examination, is fully exon- erated, and thereupon calls the queen's attention to the fact that Amy Robsart is cruelly held prisoner, and forthwith Varney and Leicester are summoned into the royal presence. And before the latter has opportunity to speak, Varney affirms that Amy is his wife; and, as every one is cognizant of Leicester's confusion, Varney assures Elizabeth that it is due to the earl's transcendent love for her gracious self. The case is apparently settled, and Varney is ordered to appear at the coming festivities at Kenilworth, and to bring with him the woman who has been the occasion of so much trouble. Here is a problem! Amy will never con-sent to be received as Varney's wife. She must somehow be detained at Cumnor! It resolves into a battle of the alchemists. Demetrius, in Varney's employ, prepares a drug for Amy, but Wayland, as Tressilian's servant, enters her apartments as a peddler and provides an antidote for the poison. He also apprises her of the enemies by whom she is surrounded and with him she flees from Cumnor. The time of the great carnival at Kenilworth is near at hand. Multitudes are on their way thither. Every avenue of approach is crowded. Wayland and Amy attach themselves to a group of strolling players, and after many interesting experiences reach the castle, where she is by chance lodged in a room in Mervyn's Tower, which has been assigned to Tressilian. Here she writes a letter to Leicester, beseeching him to come to her, and, after tying it with a true-love knot of her hair, intrusts it to Wayland to deliver, but it is stolen from him. Meanwhile Tressilian has occasion to re-turn to his room, and is dumfounded to find Amy there; but as she expected Leicester would come in answer to her letter, she bound Tressilian not to speak or act in her behalf for the next twenty-four hours, and he departed to witness the coming of the queen. According to history it was a wonderful preparation that Leicester made for the reception of Elizabeth at Kenilworth. Money was lavished without stint, and the details of pomp and pageantry gleam vividly before us when touched by the descriptive genius of Scott. At Warwick there is music, a salvo of smaller arms, a round of artillery, and a roaring welcome by the multitude. The cavalcade is illuminated by two hundred waxen tapers borne by men on horseback. The queen is adorned with countless jewels and attended by the ladies of the court and valiant knights magnificently attired, among whom Leicester glitters like a golden image. The procession advances over a bridge built for the occasion, and here the courtiers dismount; a floating island reaches the shore and the "Lady of the Lake" announces that this is the first time she has ever risen to pay homage, but she could not refrain from obeisance to her gracious Majesty. Then, as the queen enters the castle, there is a discharge of fireworks, new and wonderful in that age, and she moves on through pageants of heathen gods and heroes of antiquity to the great hall, which is hung with gorgeous silken tapestry, where she is seated by Leicester upon a royal throne, who after kissing her hand and eulogizing her most profusely, retires and shortly reappears appareled from head to foot in dazzling white. The queen very shortly after sends for Varney, and asks why his wife presumes to disobey the mandate of her sovereign and absent herself from the festivities, and he replies that she is indisposed and presents certificates to that purpose. These Tressilian madly asserts are false, but, remembering his promise to Amy to keep silent for twenty-four hours, he halts and stammers and the queen orders Raleigh to place him under restraint. Then follows the banquet, served upon a most magnificent scale, and at its close Varney seeks Leicester and assures him that the stars promise that he shall marry the queen, and he also notifies him that Tressilian has a mistress in Mervyn's Tower. From here events hurry to a climax. The next morning Amy escapes from her room and is in hiding near the plaisance, when close at hand Leicester avows his love to Elizabeth and is given great encouragement; but, as they separate, the queen discovers Amy, who declares that she is not the wife of Varney, and that "Leicester knows all." Accordingly she is hurried to the presence of the earl, where Elizabeth rages violently, but Leicester's marriage remains still unrevealed, and Amy is thought to be insane and she is placed in custody. Moreover, Leicester is angry with Amy for coming to Kenilworth and exposing him to the resent- ment of the queen, and he resolves to see her and insist that for the present she must consent to be known as Varney's wife. This proposition is scornfully refused. Amy, no longer a child, but with the strength of injured womanhood, calls upon the earl as a man and as her lavful husband to take her to Elizabeth and acknowledge that she is his wife. Leicester yields to this masterly plea to his honor and prepares for the ordeal; but Varney, clearly perceiving that this involves his own personal ruin, concludes that "either he or Amy must die," and is not slow in deciding which it shall be. He persuades Leicester that Amy is conniving with Tressilian, and so convinces him of her perfidy that the earl finally consents to her doom. That evening Leicester and Tressilian meet. The latter still believes that Varney holds Amy in his power, and he begins to plead for her; but his words and motives are misinterpreted. Swords are drawn and they do battle, but are interrupted and meet again on the morrow in a secluded spot, when, just as Leicester is about to prevail, his sword is seized by the young rascal, Dicky Smudge, who delivers to him Amy's letter, which he had stolen from Wayland. The tangle of affairs is unraveled and Amy is proclaimed as the Countess of Leicester. At this revelation, Elizabeth is beside herself with rage, declaring that "Leicester's stolen marriage has cost her a husband and England a king." In the violence of her chagrin and anger she forgets for a while her royal dignity, and recovers command of herself only when Lord Burleigh warns her that "such weakness little becomes a queen." Meanwhile Varney fatally shoots the drunken Lambourne and conducts Amy to Cumnor, where she is con-fined in Foster's bedchamber, a mysterious room reached by a drawbridge, which she is admonished never to attempt to cross; but when Tressilian and Raleigh come to take her to Kenilworth, and she hears the sound of their horses' hoofs, she thinks it is the earl and rushes from her room, and Varney has so manipulated the drawbridge that she falls to her death. When, however, this villain learns how matters have developed, he commits suicide. His alchemist is found dead in his laboratory and Tony Foster disappears and his skeleton is found long after- ward in a secret chamber where he hid his gold. Leicester retires from court for a season, but later is again, a favorite in waiting upon the queen, and dies at last by taking poison he had designed for another. |