The Star-Chamber, Volume 1 | Page 9

a stranger to all present, very good-naturedly made room for
him. In this way he was squeezed in.
Sir Francis then cast a look round to ascertain who were present; but he
was so inconveniently situated, and the crowd of serving-men was so
great at the upper table, that he could only imperfectly distinguish those
seated at it; besides which, most of the guests were hidden by the
traverse. Such, however, as he could make out were richly attired in
doublets of silk and satin, while their rich velvet mantles, plumed and
jewelled caps, and long rapiers, were carried by their servants.
Two or three turned round to look at him as he sat down; and amongst
these he remarked Sir Edward Villiers, whose presence was far from
agreeable to him,--for though Sir Edward was secretly connected with
him and Sir Giles, and took tithe of their spoliations, he disowned them
in public, and would assuredly not countenance any open display of
their rapacious proceedings.
Another personage whom he recognised, from his obesity, the

peculiarity of his long flowing periwig, and his black velvet Parisian
pourpoint, which contrasted forcibly with the glittering habiliments of
his companions, was Doctor Mayerne-Turquet, the celebrated French
professor of medicine, then so high in favour with James, that, having
been loaded with honours and dignities, he had been recently named
the King's first physician. Doctor Mayerne's abilities were so
distinguished, that his Protestant faith alone, prevented him from
occupying the same eminent position in the court of France that he did
in that of England. The doctor's presence at the banquet was
unpropitious; it was natural he should befriend a countrywoman and a
Huguenot like himself, and, possessing the royal ear, he might make
such representations as he pleased to the King of what should occur. Sir
Francis hoped he would be gone before Sir Giles appeared.
But there was yet a third person, who gave the usurious knight more
uneasiness than the other two. This was a handsome young man, with
fair hair and delicate features, whose slight elegant figure was arrayed
in a crimson-satin doublet, slashed with white, and hose of the same
colours and fabric. The young nobleman in question, whose handsome
features and prematurely-wasted frame bore the impress of cynicism
and debauchery, was Lord Roos, then recently entrapped into marriage
with the daughter of Sir Thomas Lake, Secretary of State: a marriage
productive of the usual consequences of such imprudent
arrangements--neglect on the one side, unhappiness on the other. Lord
Roos was Sir Francis's sworn enemy. Like many other such gay moths,
he had been severely singed by fluttering into the dazzling lights held
up to him, when he wanted money, by the two usurers; and he had
often vowed revenge against them for the manner in which they had
fleeced him. Sir Francis did not usually give any great heed to his
threats, being too much accustomed to reproaches and menaces from
his victims to feel alarm or compunction; but just now the case was
different, and he could not help fearing the vindictive young lord might
seize the opportunity of serving him an ill turn,--if, indeed, he had not
come there expressly for the purpose, which seemed probable, from the
fierce and disdainful glances he cast at him.
An angry murmur pervaded the upper table on Sir Francis's appearance;

and something was said which, though he could not gather its precise
import did not sound agreeably to his ears. He felt he had unwittingly
brought his head near a hornet's nest, and might esteem himself lucky if
he escaped without stinging. However, there was no retreating now; for
though his fear counselled flight, very shame restrained him.
The repast was varied and abundant, consisting of all kinds of
fricassees, collops and rashers, boiled salmon from the Thames, trout
and pike from the same river, boiled pea-chickens, and turkey-poults,
and florentines of puff paste, calves-foot pies, and set custards.
Between each guest a boiled salad was placed, which was nothing more
than what we should term a dish of vegetables, except that the
vegetables were somewhat differently prepared; cinnamon, ginger, and
sugar being added to the pulped carrots, besides a handful of currants,
vinegar, and butter. A similar plan was adopted with the salads of
burrage, chicory, marigold leaves, bugloss, asparagus, rocket, and
alexanders, and many other plants discontinued in modern cookery, but
then much esteemed; oil and vinegar being used with some, and spices
with all; while each dish was garnished with slices of hard-boiled eggs.
A jowl of sturgeon was carried to the upper table, where there was also
a baked swan, and a roasted bustard, flanked by two stately venison
pasties. This was only the first service; and two others followed,
consisting of a fawn, with a pudding inside