The Midnight Queen [37]
like moths around meteors. They, too,
were in gorgeous array, in purple and fine linen, which being
interpreted, signifieth in silken hose of every color under the
sun, spangled and embroidered slippers radiant with diamond
buckles, doublets of as many different shades as their tights,
slashed with satin and embroidered with gold. Most of them wore
huge powdered wigs, according to the hideous fashion then in
vogue, and under those same ugly scalps, laughed many a handsome
face Sir Norman well knew. The majority of those richly-robed
gallants were strangers to him as well as the ladies, but whoever
they were, whether mortal men or "spirits from the vasty deep,"
they were in the tallest sort of clover just then. Evidently
they knew it, too, and seemed to be on the best of terms with
themselves and all the world, and laughed, and flirted, and
flattered, with as mach perfection as so many ball-room Apollos
of the present day.
Still no one ascended the golden and crimson throne, though many
of the ladies and gentlemen fluttering about it were arrayed as
royally as any common king or queen need wish to be. They
promenaded up and down, arm in arm; they seated themselves in the
carved and gilded chairs; they gathered in little groups to talk
and laugh, did everything, in short, but ascend the throne; and
the solitary spectator up above began to grow intensely curious
to know who it was for. Their conversation he could plainly
hear, and to say that it amazed him, would be to use a feeble
expression, altogether inadequate to his feelings. Not that it
was the remarks they made that gave his system each a shook, but
the names by which they addressed each other. One answered to
the aspiring cognomen of the Duke of Northumberland; another was
the Earl of Leicester; another, the Duke of Devonshire; another,
the Earl of Clarendon; another, the Duke of Buckingham; and so
on, ad infinitum, dukes and earls alternately, like bricks and
mortar in the wall of a house. There were other dignitaries
besides, some that Sir Norman had a faint recollection of hearing
were dead for some years - Cardinal Wolsey, Sir Thomas More, the
Earl of Bothwell, King Henry Darnley, Sir Walter Raleigh, the
Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Southampton, the Duke of York, and
no end of others with equally sonorous titles. As for mere lords
and baronets, and such small deer, there was nothing so plebeian
present, and they were evidently looked upon by the distinguished
assembly, like small beer in thunder, with pity and contempt.
The ladies, too, were all duchesses, marchionesses, countesses,
and looked fit for princesses, Sir Norman thought, though he
heard none of them styled quite so high as that. The tone of
conversation was light and easy, but at the same time extremely
ceremonious and courtly, and all seemed to be enjoying themselves
in the moat delightful sort of a way, which people of, such
distinguished rank, I am told, seldom do. All went merry as a
marriage-bell, and sweetly over the gay jingle of voices rose the
sweet, faint strains of the unseen music.
Suddenly all was changed. The great door of glass and gilding
opposite the throne was flung wide, and a grand usher in a grand
court livery flourished a mighty grand wand, and shouted, in a
stentorian voice
"Back: back, ye lieges, and make way for Her Majesty, Queen
Miranda!"
Instantly the unseen band thundered forth the national anthem.
The splendid throng fell back on either hand in profoundest
silence and expectation. The grand usher mysteriously
disappeared, and in his place there stalked forward a score of
soldiers, with clanking swords and fierce moustaches, in the
gorgeous uniform of the king's body-guard. These showy warriors
arranged themselves silently on either side of the crimson
throne, and were followed by half a dozen dazzling personages,
the foremost crowned with mitre, armed
were in gorgeous array, in purple and fine linen, which being
interpreted, signifieth in silken hose of every color under the
sun, spangled and embroidered slippers radiant with diamond
buckles, doublets of as many different shades as their tights,
slashed with satin and embroidered with gold. Most of them wore
huge powdered wigs, according to the hideous fashion then in
vogue, and under those same ugly scalps, laughed many a handsome
face Sir Norman well knew. The majority of those richly-robed
gallants were strangers to him as well as the ladies, but whoever
they were, whether mortal men or "spirits from the vasty deep,"
they were in the tallest sort of clover just then. Evidently
they knew it, too, and seemed to be on the best of terms with
themselves and all the world, and laughed, and flirted, and
flattered, with as mach perfection as so many ball-room Apollos
of the present day.
Still no one ascended the golden and crimson throne, though many
of the ladies and gentlemen fluttering about it were arrayed as
royally as any common king or queen need wish to be. They
promenaded up and down, arm in arm; they seated themselves in the
carved and gilded chairs; they gathered in little groups to talk
and laugh, did everything, in short, but ascend the throne; and
the solitary spectator up above began to grow intensely curious
to know who it was for. Their conversation he could plainly
hear, and to say that it amazed him, would be to use a feeble
expression, altogether inadequate to his feelings. Not that it
was the remarks they made that gave his system each a shook, but
the names by which they addressed each other. One answered to
the aspiring cognomen of the Duke of Northumberland; another was
the Earl of Leicester; another, the Duke of Devonshire; another,
the Earl of Clarendon; another, the Duke of Buckingham; and so
on, ad infinitum, dukes and earls alternately, like bricks and
mortar in the wall of a house. There were other dignitaries
besides, some that Sir Norman had a faint recollection of hearing
were dead for some years - Cardinal Wolsey, Sir Thomas More, the
Earl of Bothwell, King Henry Darnley, Sir Walter Raleigh, the
Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Southampton, the Duke of York, and
no end of others with equally sonorous titles. As for mere lords
and baronets, and such small deer, there was nothing so plebeian
present, and they were evidently looked upon by the distinguished
assembly, like small beer in thunder, with pity and contempt.
The ladies, too, were all duchesses, marchionesses, countesses,
and looked fit for princesses, Sir Norman thought, though he
heard none of them styled quite so high as that. The tone of
conversation was light and easy, but at the same time extremely
ceremonious and courtly, and all seemed to be enjoying themselves
in the moat delightful sort of a way, which people of, such
distinguished rank, I am told, seldom do. All went merry as a
marriage-bell, and sweetly over the gay jingle of voices rose the
sweet, faint strains of the unseen music.
Suddenly all was changed. The great door of glass and gilding
opposite the throne was flung wide, and a grand usher in a grand
court livery flourished a mighty grand wand, and shouted, in a
stentorian voice
"Back: back, ye lieges, and make way for Her Majesty, Queen
Miranda!"
Instantly the unseen band thundered forth the national anthem.
The splendid throng fell back on either hand in profoundest
silence and expectation. The grand usher mysteriously
disappeared, and in his place there stalked forward a score of
soldiers, with clanking swords and fierce moustaches, in the
gorgeous uniform of the king's body-guard. These showy warriors
arranged themselves silently on either side of the crimson
throne, and were followed by half a dozen dazzling personages,
the foremost crowned with mitre, armed