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Architectural Patterns

Uncover essential patterns in the most indispensable realm of

enterprise architecture
Pethuru Raj
Anupama Raman
Harihara Subramanian

BIRMINGHAM - MUMBAI
Architectural Patterns

Copyright © 2017 Packt Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a

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Credits

Authors

Pethuru Raj Copy Editor

Anupama Raman Safis Editing

Harihara Subramanian

Reviewer Project Coordinator

Dr. Kayarvizhy N Vaidehi Sawant

Commissioning Editor Proofreader

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About the Authors
Pethuru Raj holds the PhD degree in computer science and works as the
chief architect and vice-president of the Site Reliability Engineering (SRE)
division of Reliance Jio Infocomm. Ltd (RJIL), Bangalore. He previously
worked as a cloud infrastructure architect in the IBM Global Cloud Center
of Excellence (CoE), IBM India, and as a TOGAF-certified Enterprise
Architecture (EA) consultant in the Wipro Consulting Services (WCS)
division, Bangalore. He also had a fruitful stint as a lead architect in the
Corporate Research (CR) division of Robert Bosch, Bangalore. He has
more than 17 years of IT industry experience and 8 years of research
experience. He has authored eight books thus far and co-authored the
Learning Docker book by Packt.

Anupama Raman recently joined Flipkart as a senior manager. Prior to

this, she worked as an architect in the IBM Business Analytics Business
Unit (smarter cities product lines) in the IBM Software labs. She has
worked extensively on all IBM business analytics product lines, which
include products and technologies on predictive and prescriptive analytics.
She is very passionate about storage area networking, data centers, and
cloud technologies. Anupama is EMC certified as a cloud infrastructure and
services management professional, data center architect, storage and
management professional, networking design and management
professional, and EMC Technology Foundation professional.

Harihara Subramanian works for SABRE Corporation as a principal

software architect. He has been evolving and practicing software
development and various software architecture concepts since 1999. He is
an energetic and highly focused technology leader with a proven track
record in software development, software architecture principles, and
implementations. He has been an active contributor to various online and
offline forums in different technologies and focuses on technology
consulting, software development, SOA, and more.
About the Reviewer
Dr. Kayarvizhy N is currently working as an associate professor in the
computer science department of BMS College of Engineering, Bangalore.
She has over 12 years of experience in academia. She obtained her
bachelor's and master's of technology degrees in computer science from
Pondicherry University. She was awarded her doctoral degree from Anna
University in 2014 for her work in object-oriented metrics. She has
published over 17 papers in various journals and conferences and is actively
guiding research scholars in several emerging areas. She has also helped set
up the IoT curriculum and lab in her department and is pursuing a project
sponsored by the Government of Karnataka through the VGST grant
program.
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Table of Contents
Preface
What this book covers
What you need for this book
Who this book is for
Conventions
Reader feedback
Downloading the color images of this book
Errata
Piracy
Questions
1. Demystifying Software Architecture Patterns
Envisioning the software-defined world
Software patterns
Why software patterns?
The prime ingredients of a software pattern
The types of software patterns
Software architecture patterns
Object-oriented architecture (OOA)
Component-based assembly (CBD) architecture
Domain-driven design (DDD) architecture
Client/server architecture
Multi-tier distributed computing architecture
Layered/tiered architecture
Event-driven architecture (EDA)
The major issues with EDA
Service-oriented architecture (SOA)
Service-inspired integration (SOI)
Event-driven service-oriented architecture
The EDA fundamental principles
The ED-SOA composite pattern benefits
Microservices architecture (MSA)
Event-driven microservices patterns
Space-based architecture (SBA)
Combining architecture patterns
 Special-purpose architectures
Real-time context-aware prediction architecture
Summary
Additional reading materials
2. Client/Server Multi-Tier Architectural Patterns
Domain name service (DNS) server and DNS client
The workings of a DNS
Functional requirements in two-tier client-server patterns
Distribution of functional requirements in a client-server pa
ttern
The remote data access client-server pattern
The remote presentation client-server pattern
The split logic data client-server architecture pattern
The three-tier pattern / multi-tier pattern client-server
The master-slave pattern
Issues in the master-slave pattern
Peer-to-peer patterns
Advantages of two-tier client-server patterns
Design considerations - when to use a two-tier client-server
pattern?
Limitations of two-tier client-server patterns
Three-tier client-server architecture
Design considerations for using three-tier architecture
Design considerations for n-tier architecture
An example of n-tier architecture (shopping cart web app
lication)
The distributed client-server architecture
Motivation for development of web application patterns
Workings of the MVC pattern
The ASP.Net framework
The model view presenter (MVP) pattern
The model-view-viewmodel (MVVM) pattern
Key advantages of the MVVM pattern
Design considerations for using the MVVM pattern
Prism
Design patterns for web application development
The front controller pattern
 Spring framework
Summary
3. Object-Oriented Software Engineering Patterns
Key elements of OOD
Additional elements of OOD
Design principles
Single responsibility principle (SRP) – SOLID
Open and close principle – SOLID
Liskov substitution principle (LSP) – SOLID
Interface segregation principle (ISP) – SOLID
Dependency inversion principle (DIP) – SOLID
Other common design principles
OO design patterns
Creational design patterns
Factory method (virtual constructor)
Abstract factory (kit)
Builder
Prototype
Singleton
Structural design patterns
Adapter class (wrapper)
Adapter (object)
Bridge (handle/body)
Composite
Decorator
Façade
Flyweight
Proxy
Behavioral patterns
Chain of responsibility
Command (action/transaction)
Interpreter
Iterator (cursor)
Mediator
Memento
Observer (dependents/publish/subscribe)
State (objects for states)
 Strategy (policy)
The template method
Visitor
Concurrency patterns
Concurrency design pattern
Producer-consumer
Active object
Monitor object
Concurrency architectural pattern
Summary
References
4. Enterprise Integration Patterns
Need for integration patterns
Integration scenarios in enterprises
Information portal
Data replication
Shared business function
Service-oriented architecture
Distributed business process management
The business-to-business integration
Main challenges in enterprise integration
File transfer
Shared database
Remote procedure invocation
Messaging
Getting started with messaging patterns
Pipe and filter pattern
Message router pattern
Message translator pattern
Message endpoint pattern
Point-to-point channel pattern
Publish-subscribe channel pattern
Datatype channel pattern
Message bus patterns
Command message patterns
Event message patterns
Request-reply pattern
 Content-based router pattern
Message filter pattern
Resequencer pattern
Polling consumer pattern
Channel adapter
Mobile integration pattern
Request-response pattern
Defining a push notification pattern
API management pattern
Summary
5. Domain-Driven Design (DDD) Principles and Patterns
Principles, characteristics, and practices of DDD
Principles
Focusing on the core domain
Collaborate and learn
Model the domain
Evolve
Talk in ubiquitous language
Characteristics
Best practices
DDD patterns
Strategic patterns
Ubiquitous language
Domain, subdomain, and core domain
Bounded contexts
Integrating bounded contexts
Autonomous bounded context
The shared-nothing architecture
Single responsibility codes
Multiple bounded contexts (within a solution)
Adoption of SOA principles
Integrating with legacy systems
The bubble context
The anti-corruption layer
Expose as a service
Distributed bounded context integration strategies
Database integration
 Flat file integration
Event-driven architecture and messaging
Tactical patterns
Patterns to model the domain
Entities
Value objects
Domain services
Modules
Aggregates
Factories
Repositories
Emerging patterns
Domain events
Event sourcing
Other patterns
Summary
References and further reading materials
6. Enterprise Architecture Platforms and Tools
Overview of enterprise architecture frameworks
Getting started with TOGAF
Architecture development method (ADM)
Deliverables, artifacts, and building blocks
Enterprise continuum
Architecture repository
Advantages of using TOGAF
Limitations of TOGAF
Zachman framework for enterprise architecture
Advantages
Restrictions
Guidelines for choosing EAF
Enterprise architecture platforms and tools
Enterprise Architect from Sparx Systems
Dragon1
ABACUS from avolution software
Architecture of ABACUS
Summary
References
7. Service-Oriented Architecture (SOA)
Web services and SOA
Introduction to SOA
Life cycle of SOA
Primary characteristics of SOA
Service interconnectivity with well-defined interfaces
Standard interfaces and Service level agreements
Event-driven and messaging
Flexible
Evolution
Principles of SOA
Standardized service contract
Service interoperability
Service abstraction
Service autonomy
Service composability
Service discoverability
Service loose coupling
Service reusability
Service statelessness
SOA design patterns
Service messaging
Message screening
Agnostic services
Atomic service transaction
Authentication broker
Message origin authentication
Service façade
Multiple service contract
Service callback
Event-driven messaging
Service refactoring
Metadata centralization
Principles and patterns cross reference
Summary
8. Event-Driven Architectural Patterns
 Service-oriented architecture and event-driven architecture (SOA v
ersus EDA)
Key characteristics of event-driven patterns
Components of an EDA pattern
Event flow layers
Event generators
Event channel
Event processing
Downstream event-driven activity
Design considerations for event-driven patterns
Implementation variants of EDA patterns
Simple event processing patterns
Event stream processing patterns
Complex event processing (CEP) patterns
Types of event-driven patterns
Event mediator topology pattern
Event broker topology pattern
Hub and spoke pattern
Broadcast pattern
Polling pattern
EDA pattern implementation in systems/processes
Event log
Event collectors
Reply queue
Improving the performance of EDA-based processes/systems
IBM WebSphere MQ
Emerging trends in EDA
Event-driven microservices
Complex event processing
Internet of Things (IoT) and EDA
References
Summary
9. Microservices Architecture Patterns
Microservices patterns
Decomposition patterns
Decomposition by use case pattern
Decomposition by resources pattern
 Decomposition by business capability pattern
Decomposition by subdomain pattern
Microservices deployment pattern
Multiple service instances per host pattern
Single service instance per host pattern
Service instance per VM pattern
Service instance per container pattern
Serverless deployment pattern
Service deployment platform pattern
Microservices design patterns
Aggregator microservice design pattern
Proxy microservice design pattern
Chained microservice design pattern
Microservice chassis pattern
Externalized configuration pattern
Microservices database patterns
Database per service pattern
Shared data design pattern
Shared database pattern
Command-query responsibility segregation (CQRS) pattern
Microservices integration patterns
Remote procedure invocation (RPI) pattern
Messaging design pattern
Asynchronous messaging design pattern
Domain-specific protocol pattern
API gateway pattern
Backend for frontend pattern
Microservices registration, discovery, and usage patterns
Service discovery pattern
Service registry pattern
Service registration pattern
Event-driven architecture (EDA) patterns
Event sourcing pattern
Transaction log tailing pattern
Publishing events using the database trigger pattern
Application publishes events pattern
Testing and troubleshooting patterns
 Access token pattern
Service component test pattern
Log aggregation pattern
Application metrics pattern
Audit logging pattern
Distributed tracing pattern
Exception tracking pattern
Health check API pattern
Microservices composition patterns
Server-side page fragment composition pattern
Client-side UI composition pattern
Messaging-based microservices composition pattern
Resilient and reliable microservices patterns
Circuit breaker pattern
Shared caching layer pattern
High availability microservices pattern
Concurrent requests for data pattern
Event store pattern
Event streams and the unified event log pattern
Asynchronous command calls pattern
Summary
10. Patterns for Containerized and Reliable Applications
Introduction
The key drivers for containerization
Design patterns for Docker containers
Container building patterns
Docker image building patterns
Multi-stage image building pattern
The pattern for file sharing between containers
Using bind-mount volumes
Pipes and filters pattern
Containerized applications - Autopilot pattern
Containers - persistent storage patterns
The context for persistent storages
The persistent storage options
Volumes
Bind mounts
 The tmpfs mounts
Docker compose configuration pattern
Docker container anti-patterns
Installing an OS inside a Docker container
Go for optimized Docker images
Storing container images only inside a container registry
Hosting only one service inside a container
Latest doesn't mean best
Docker containers with SSH
IP addresses of a container
Root user
Dependency between containers
Patterns for highly reliable applications
Resiliency implementation strategies
The testing approaches for resiliency
The resilient deployment approaches
The deployment patterns
Monitoring and diagnostics
Resiliency realization patterns
Circuit breaker pattern
Bulkhead pattern
Compensating transaction pattern
Health endpoint monitoring pattern
Leader election pattern
Queue-based load leveling pattern
Retry pattern
Summary
11. Software-Defined Clouds - the Architecture and Design Patterns
Reflecting the cloud journey
Traditional application architecture versus cloud application arch
itecture
The traditional application architecture
The cloud architecture
The cloud application architecture
Cloud integration patterns
Tier/Layer-based decomposition
Process-based decomposition
 Pipes-and-filters-based decomposition
Service messaging pattern
Messaging metadata pattern
Service agent pattern
Intermediate routing pattern
State messaging pattern
Service callback pattern
Service instance routing
Asynchronous queuing pattern
Reliable messaging pattern
Cloud design patterns
Cache-aside pattern
Circuit breaker pattern
Compensating transaction pattern
Competing consumers pattern
Compute resource consolidation pattern
Command and query responsibility segregation (CQRS) pattern
Event sourcing pattern
External configuration store pattern
Federated identity pattern
Gatekeeper pattern
Application health monitoring pattern
Leader election pattern
Materialized views pattern
Pipes and filters pattern
Priority queue pattern
Queue-based load leveling pattern
Retry pattern
Runtime reconfiguration pattern
Scheduler agent supervisor pattern
Sharding pattern
Throttling pattern
Workload distribution pattern
Cloud workload scheduler pattern
Cloud reliability and resilience patterns
Resource pooling pattern
Resource reservation pattern
 Hypervisor clustering pattern
Redundant storage pattern
Dynamic failure detection and recovery pattern
Redundant physical connection for virtual servers pattern
Cloud security patterns
Cryptographic key management system pattern
Virtual private network (VPN) pattern
Cloud authentication gateway pattern
In-transit cloud data encryption pattern
Cloud storage device masking pattern
Cloud storage data at rest encryption pattern
Endpoint threat detection and response pattern
Threat intelligence processing pattern
Cloud denial of service (DoS) protection pattern
Summary
Bibliography
12. Big Data Architecture and Design Patterns
The four V's of big data
Big data analysis and technology concepts
Data analysis life cycle
Big data analysis and data science
Data analysis
Data science
Big data platform
Big data engineering
Big data governance
Big data architecture landscape and layers
Big data architecture patterns
MapReduce pattern
Lambda architecture pattern
Data lake architecture pattern
Big data design patterns
Data sources and ingestion layer
Multisource extractor
Multidestination pattern
Protocol converter
Just-In-Time (JIT) transformation pattern
 Real-time streaming pattern
Big data workload patterns
Data storage layer
ACID versus BASE versus CAP
Façade pattern
NoSQL pattern
Polyglot pattern
Data access layer
Connector pattern
Lightweight stateless pattern
Service locator pattern
Near real-time pattern
Stage transform pattern
Rapid data analysis pattern
Data discovery and analysis layer
Data queuing pattern
Index-based insight pattern
Machine learning pattern
Converge(r) pattern
Data visualization layer
First glimpse pattern
Portal pattern
Mashup view pattern
Compression pattern
Exploder pattern
Summary
References
Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
 I. INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.

T
HE early lives of heroic personages, born at a date anterior to
the invention of parish registers, police sheets, and such
vehicles of subordinate renown, are usually enveloped in
mystery. This remark (which is not offered merely as a
specimen of the writer’s originality) does not, of course, apply to
that highly favoured class of heroes who may be said to be born to
the business, and to note down whose earliest heroic throes and
struggles official chroniclers have been retained in all ages; but
exclusively to the work-a-day or journeyman hero, who has had to
establish himself in the heroic line from small beginnings—who has
had, as it were, to build his own pedestal in the Temple of Fame,
finding his own bricks, mortar, and wheelbarrows. This kind of
construction, in all ages, necessitating an immense deal of labour
and application, we generally find that by the time the pedestal is
finished and the hero ready to mount it, his condition of wind and
limb is no longer such as to enable him to do so with any remarkable
degree of alacrity; and that he has but little time and eyesight left to
enjoy the prospect afforded by his eminent position. In other words,
by the time a great man has acquired such dimensions as to make
him an object of public attention, it is generally at the moment when
—like an over-blown soap-bubble—he is about to collapse into
nothing. And what man who has travelled to distinction on foot cares
—when he has changed his boots—to talk or be reminded of the
mud he has walked through?
These reflections are peculiarly applicable to the case of Sir John
Falstaff,—the individual hero whose career it will be the business of
these pages to trace. That great man, at the date of those sayings
and achievements which have gained him a world-wide celebrity,
was—in spite of his pardonable reluctance to admit the fact—already
advanced in years. His own accounts of his early life are meagre in
the extreme, and, justice compels us to add, by no means authentic.
They are, in fact, confined to a rather vague statement, that he was
“born at three o’clock in the afternoon, with a white head,” and
other physical peculiarities, which would lead to a suspicion that the
knight was not wholly free from a weakness common to great men
of his epoch, namely, an ambition for the doubtful honours of a
prodigious birth. A further assertion of early injuries, received
through too assiduous application to certain ecclesiastical duties,
must be regarded as equally apocryphal. Of the place of his birth, he
makes no mention whatever; nor do we find, in his admirable
conversations immortalised by the historian Shakspeare—to whose
dramatic chronicles we shall frequently have to confess our
obligations in the course of this history—any allusion to the character
and circumstances of his parents.
But should the Biographer recoil before this merely negative
obstacle of barrenness, at the outset of his researches—as though a
traveller, with his mountain goal in sight, should sit down and
despair because he sees the plain beneath obscured by intervening
mists? Has not the difficulty of finding a needle in a bottle of hay
(which, by the way, has always appeared to us a remarkable article
to be kept in bottle) been greatly exaggerated? All you have to do, is
to make sure that the needle is really in the bottle. Patience and a
microscope will lead you to its discovery. It may be stated that
between Sir John Falstaff and a needle there is not much
resemblance, and that an allusion to anything microscopic in his
case is inappropriate. We merely anticipate the objection that we
may pass it over. The fact that our knight lived to the age of
threescore odd is a proof (by induction) that he must have been
born somewhere, and at a date anticipatory by some sixty odd years
of that of his death. That he had the usual number of parents is at
least probable. That he had received a good education, for his time,
we have ample proof. These are great data to go upon. The needle
is in the bottle. All we have to do, is to separate carefully the musty
hay of antiquity, aided by the glass of investigation; to plunge boldly
into the mists of contradictory evidence, and push our way patiently
till we get to the mountain,—which, with the full length and breadth
of Mr. George Cruikshank’s faithful historical portrait on our opening
page before us, is perhaps a better image than the needle.
Reader! think not that we are going to trouble you to hunt with
us. Deem not that we should have presumed to appear before you
till we had found the needle, and cleared it from the last hayseed.
Like Mohammed, of the Arabian desert,—or Mr. Albert Smith, of the
Egyptian Hall,—we have been to the mountain; and, imitating the
more modern popular leader, appear before you, wand in hand,
ready to describe the particulars of our ascent, with illustrations. The
amplest materials for the Life of Sir John Falstaff are in our
possession—from his birth, even to the date of that morning when,
at three of the clock, a small white head (we reject the
accompanying phenomena) made its first appearance in the world;
to his boyhood,—where the moving panorama will pause awhile, at
the court gate, to show you Thomas Mowbray’s page breaking
Skogan’s head, on that doubly memorable day that also witnessed
an encounter between Master William Shallow and Sampson
Stockfish, a fruiterer; on, past his summer of manhood, to his
glorious autumn, when our knight reaped sheaves of golden renown
at Gadshill and at Shrewsbury; to that second Indian summer, when
Sir John Falstaff, round and glorious as the harvest moon, could still
attract the gilding rays of sunny Mistress Page’s view; down to that
cold winter night, between twelve and one—e’en at the turning of
the tide!—when those fingers that of old had grasped the hilt and
managed the target, fumbled with the sheets and played with
flowers—when that voice that had been the mouthpiece of Wit itself,
the igniting spark of wit in others, could only babble of green fields—
till Sir John Falstaff’s feet grew cold as any stone, and so upward
and upward till all was as cold as any stone, even as that which
careless, laughing workmen fell to hewing and chipping on the
following day!
And where found we all this knowledge? It is no matter. In the
pursuit of our task, we shall reject the pitiful, inartistic plan of
modern historians, who are ever in such trepidation to stop you with
their authorities, (as though a man should wear his tailor’s receipt
pinned to the collar of his coat, to show that the garment has been
honestly come by!) but will rather imitate the independent manly
fashion of the old chroniclers, who told their stories in a simple,
straightforward manner, never caring to say whence they had them,
but throwing them down in the world’s face, like the gages of
honest, chivalrous gentlemen, whose word might not be questioned.
This rule we intend observing scrupulously; except, indeed, on
occasions of necessity, when we may think proper to deviate from it.
Our edifice once raised, we have removed the scaffolding. The
public is invited to enter.
 II. BIRTH AND GENEALOGY OF SIR
JOHN FALSTAFF.

J
OHN Falstaff was born in the city of London, at the Old Swan
Tavern, near the Ebgate Stairs, at the north end of London
Bridge, on the 23rd of January, 1352. It is to be regretted that
the place of his birth, which, though much decayed, and
frequently altered, retained its ancient name and usage for more
than three centuries after the event which shed such lustre on its
humble walls, should have been destroyed in the great fire of
London; whereby, as is well known to antiquarians, the wharves and
buildings in that part of the town were burnt down to the water’s
edge. By those who believe in idle presages, this circumstance of
birth in a tavern will be deemed prophetic of a life foredoomed to be
for the most part spent in such places, and, indeed, to end in one.
But such vain speculations are as unworthy the historian’s attention
as their conclusion is anticipatory of his object.
For the extreme minuteness of the details we have been so
fortunate as to acquire on this important event,—even to a special
mention of the very room in which our hero’s first cry was heard,—
we are indebted to the accidental preservation of a family letter. The
publication of this document entire, with necessary orthographical
and idiomatic modifications, will not merely simplify this portion of
our biographical studies, but will also afford the biographer an early
opportunity of asserting the independent course he means to
pursue, by setting at glorious defiance the rule laid down by himself
for his own observance in the closing remarks of the foregoing
chapter.
To my very dear sweet Wife, the Lady Alice Falstaff, of Falstaff in
Kent.
This in haste.
 “Written at the Gate-house, in Westminster, Jan. 24. 1353.
“My dear Sweet,—I think I am the most wretched man in all
England, I and no other am he. I must fain tell you the truth, which,
in my great love and care for thy sweet peace, I have hitherto kept
back, and would have done, cost me what might, had it been longer
possible. I lie here at the suit of one Bruno, a Longobard, for a pitiful
sum I was constrained to borrow of him, and for which he exacts
fifty in the hundred usury. And for a miserable debt like this, am I to
be made wretched, and kept from my dear wife and child? * Did I
not say I was the most unhappy wretch in England? Oh! pity me, my
dear wife; I am here in a foul room, with greasy rogues and villains.
If I send out for civet to sweeten the air, the knaves rob me in my
exchange, and bring me in foul stuff. Truly I am in the hands of
thieves and robbers; for they charge me sixpence the quart for thin
drugged wine, when the best Gascon wine is but fourpence the
gallon in the Vintry. Thou seest how impossible it is for me to send
thee the money thou dost require. Already have I shortened my gold
chain by four links, for meat and drink. I may not part with more, for
there be here confined certain gentlemen of the court, before whom
I am fain to keep up my estate. But for all their gentility, I suspect
some of their number to be no better than false knaves and coggers.
For last night, they decoyed me, through my distraction and
unbearable misery on thy account, into play, and stripped me of my
last gold Florence, as I do think by foul means. Oh, my dear wife!
how thankful thou shouldst be to be spared the sharing in my
troubles! Do not grieve nor fret at the thought that they were
brought on by my great love for thee, as indeed they were; for was
it not my zeal to have thee make a figure at court that first got me
in such debt? But have I not cheerfully borne all for thee,—as thy
love hath indeed well merited? Did I consider my rank and ancestry
when thou didst witch me with thy rosy cheeks and blue eyes,
though but the daughter of a low-born trader? Nay! I must dwell on
it, for methinks thou dost sometimes rate my love too low. Did I not
bear with thine ignoble kinsmen, till they took to reviling and
slighting me? I believe thou art a changeling, thou pretty rogue! and
none of their blood. I meant not to tell thee of this, but I am on the
matter, and it must needs out. Yesterday, on my arrest, being at the
end of my wits what to do, I sent a hoy to thine uncle Simpkin the
Tanner, saying, that in time of suffering, ill blood should cease, and I
would be willing to forget all past differences so that he would come
and release me with his surety. I shame to write his answer; but that
thou shouldst know, for once and all, from what a churlish stock thy
good fortune hath rescued thee, it must needs be told. He sent back
word, that he had thought Sir Gilbert Falstaff had forgotten all past
differences long ago, including a difference of a hundred and fifty
golden marks; meaning the paltry sum I had of him on my receiving
the grant of arms from the King’s Majesty, whom heaven preserve! I
could have wept for shame and vexation.

* It is worthy of remark that Sir Gilbert does not admit his

lady so far into his confidence as to mention the amount.

“And yesterday, our dear little Jack was a twelvemonth old! Pretty
fellow, and I not near him, to load him with sweets and knick-
knacks! He should go ever in Italian velvet and Flanders lace, had I
my will. Thou shouldst know this, wife, without telling; and I own
(though ‘tis rarely I have to chide thee) there seemed lack of love
and thoughtfulness in thy vexing me about trifling things amid all my
troubles. With a heart breaking for lack of kindliness and sympathy, I
get a letter tormenting me about such petty grievances as hose and
blankets. This was selfish, wife! The worst part of the winter is past,
and the boy’s homespun coat will serve well with a little piecing and
darning; and for nether stocks, there is nothing like knitted wool. I
must indeed urge thee to thrift, wife. It doth not behove a fallen
house like ours, to waste in outward vanities; except, indeed, the
wretched master, who is compelled to keep up a show in courts and
cities. Thou knowest well the shifts I have been put to, to pass for a
man of a hundred pounds a year, and avoid the sumptuary law. But
these things are riddles to thee. I believe thou wouldst submit to see
me forbidden the use of silk, gold, and silver, in my garments. Thou
wouldst be content to see a man of my standing restricted to two
courses of three dishes each. Well, it is not thy fault, but that of thy
training.
“I would forgive thee in a greater matter than this, my sweeting,
for the great love I bear thee; but I am nigh distracted with my
sorrows, and know not what I write. Had it not been for those
gentlemen knaves, who carried me to play with them last night (may
the foul fiend seize them!), I should have gone mad. I thought of
that time twelvemonth. The whole matter stood, as it were, on a
picture before me. I remembered our landing at the Ebgate stairs,
from the boat we took at Deptford, when thou wast taken ill. Say
what thou wilt, thou shalt never persuade me but it was thy violence
of temper hastened thy trouble. Thou wast well enough till it proved
that I had brought thee to London without money, or preparation for
thy condition. I acted (as I always do) for the best. Were there not
brave rejoicings at Court, in honour of the new-founded order of
knighthood, that I wished thee to see? and how could I get the
money I wanted, from the churl, thy brother, which he refused,
without thy presence? Thou dost not know, and never wilt know,
what I suffered for thee at that time. I was too much moved to lend
a hand, as they bore thee from the boat into the Old Swan. When
they had taken thee up stairs, the hostess had to ply me with strong
waters, in her little room, for more than an hour. They told me
afterwards, I did nothing but exclaim, many times, ‘The Flagon,—
where the Flemish bed is!’ which I had heard them name as the
chamber thou wast to be carried to, and wherein our dear little Jack
was soon afterwards born. (I pray you send down to Dame Cackle’s
orchard, and beg two of her finest last year’s pears, the which
present to master Jack as the gift of his good father.) How I rushed
out of the house when I heard thy cries! I know not where I went,
nor what company I fell into. I was as one possessed. And oh! what
agonies I endured during the five days afterwards, when I was kept
from visiting or having news of thee, through a rumour of the great
pestilence breaking out again near London Bridge, for fear of
bringing contagion in with me, which in thy weak state would have
been fatal. Well! we shall all have our reward. But when I reflect
that, during that trying time, none of thy heartless kinsfolk came
near thee, I could even——but ‘tis no matter.
“But first to get me out of this accursed place. If I have not fifty
silver marks by Wednesday, I am a dead man. I cannot longer
endure the knowledge of thine unprotected state. Thou hast no
great need of thy cramoisy velvet gown in thy secluded life. Lambert
can dispose of it secretly in Sandwich, where we are not known.
(Thou seest I am thoughtful to spare thee shame.) Let him also ride
to Canterbury, with thy golden bracelets, and little Jack’s baptism
cup and trencher. They will fetch together some ten silver marks.
Thou canst borrow twenty marks from Dame Adlyn, the yeoman’s
wife. In times like these, we must not be over nice; and I withdraw
the prohibition I have laid on this good woman’s visits to Falstaff.
Thou mayest even call her gossip at a pinch. Make up the rest as
thou canst. Lambert himself must have saved money in our service.
Promise him increase of wage (though, indeed, the last three years
have been indifferently paid), and dwell upon a vassal’s duty to his
lord. At any rate, I must have the money. When thou hast raised it,
let Lambert gallop post to London, and spare no expense, in order
that he may arrive not later than Wednesday, for the river is already
frozen over, and if the frost holds, there are to be sports on the ice,
with the king and all the princes present, which I would not miss for
a barony.
“I would answer thine inquiries about the blankets and under-
clothing, but it is so cold in this detestable place, that I can no
longer hold a pen. Happily thou art spared this.
“I commend thee to the care of Heaven, my beloved wife.
“Gilbert Falstaff,
“Eques et armig.” *

* This remarkable epistle (which is justly esteemed the gem

of the Strongate Collection) appears rather to have owed its
preservation to the fact of its being scrawled on the backs
of leaves torn out of a costly illuminated chronicle of the
period—the authorship of which is apocryphal,—than to any
intrinsic merit of composition. This fact may be accepted as
significant of the hereditary Falstaff character.—Ed.
 This Gilbert Falstaff was the tenth in lineal descent from Hundwulf
Falstaff, the great Saxon leader who performed such signal service to
William Duke of Normandy, on that prince’s memorable invasion of
England, and of whose exploits and succession it behoves us here to
speak.
A numerous and well-armed troop of patriotic English noblemen
had been enrolled some weeks for the purpose of resisting the
invaders, but had been detained, debating, in a truly English manner,
as to the constitutional means of choosing a leader, till news reached
them of the landing of the Norman, at a distance of a hundred and
fifty miles from their camp. They were about to disperse in a panic,
when Hundwulf Falstaff appeared suddenly amongst them, and, by
dint of much eloquence,—also, it must be added, of some secret
influences in the camp, wherein he had skilfully introduced his
agents,—succeeded in rallying these disheartened warriors, and
inducing them to accept him as their leader. He led them by forced
marches to the Isle of Thanet, where they bivouacked in a chalk pit;
expecting to come up with the main Saxon army encamped near
Hastings, under prince Harold, who was notoriously in want of
soldiers, on the following day. Here, while divested of their armour—
as had been preconcerted between Falstaff and Duke William—they
were fallen upon by a superior body of Normans and cut to pieces.
For this admirable piece of generalship and loyalty, whereby the
victorious Normans were spared the opposition of some hundreds of
warriors, the flower of English chivalry, Hundwulf Falstaff—contrary
to the general treatment of the Saxon proprietors—was allowed not
only to retain his own lands (his title to which had, indeed, been
disputed in favour of his nephew, Essel Falstaff, who, serving under
his uncle, had been engaged in the action of the chalk pit, and died,
leaving no issue), but to add to them the possessions of many
gentlemen, his neighbours, who had perished in the glorious
engagement above mentioned.
The Falstaff estates, on the settlement of the land, were found to
be as spacious and wealthy as those of many powerful barons.
Nevertheless, their holder was not suffered to take the rank of
nobility, an honour he had been led to expect: nay, on his humble
petition for the lesser dignity of knighthood—backed by a memorial
of his services to the crown—he was informed that he should think
himself fortunate to be allowed to retain possession of his estates,
and that the honours of chivalry were not for a False Thief like him.
This sobriquet of False Thief stuck to him, and has been by many
writers asserted to be the origin of the family name—corrupted into
Fals-taff. Nothing is easier of refutation. In the first place, it is
improbable that a gentleman should voluntarily adopt, as his family
title, a term of ignominy and reproach. Moreover, the name is known
to be of ancient Saxon origin, derived from Fel-staf—felling-staff, or
cudgel; clearly tracing the antiquity of the house as far back as those
barbarous times when the savage German warriors took their names
from their favourite weapons. There is a curious old record (in the
Strongate Collection), of the time of Edward the Elder, in which one
Keingelt Felstaf appeals to the brethren of a Sodalitium, or fraternity
of mutual protection, whereof he is a member, to subscribe two
marks apiece towards the liquidation of a fine levied on him for the
murder of three ceorles, which he is unable to pay, owing to the
straitened circumstances of his family. He adds, that there is another
fine against him for a like offence; but the victim in this case being
only a Welchman, he believes he will be able to meet it without
assistance.
Hundwulf Falstaff died in 1088, at the age of fifty-four, it is
supposed of a broken heart, caused by the ingratitude of a monarch
whom he had so efficiently and loyally served, aggravated by the
unnatural conduct of his two daughters, whom, in pursuance of his
cherished scheme of attaching himself to the Norman aristocracy, he
had bestowed in marriage, with the dowry of a substantial estate
apiece, on two poor knights of Guienne,—Philip le Borgne and
Hugues le Bossu (surnamed Bandylegs). These ladies immediately
after their marriage deserted their munificent parent for the gaieties
of a court life; refusing even to recognise him in the public
thoroughfares, except on pressing occasion for pecuniary assistance.
The Falstaff possessions were further crippled in this reign by
repeated gifts to divers Norman noblemen, who being chivalrous
gentlemen, with an instinctive abhorrence of wrong, got up frequent
agitations against Hundwulf; suggesting to their monarch the
propriety of hanging up that chieftain for his glaring political
immorality, and distributing his estates among themselves—men of
spotless integrity. These agitations generally broke out at a time of
national pressure, and Hundwulf found no means of allaying them
but the one already alluded to. Thus, early after its acquisition, were
the seeds of decay sown in the very system of the great Falstaff
estate; which, as the sequel will prove, may be likened to a strong
man attacked with a mortal disease, who may live and struggle for
years, but whose every effort to recover strength serves to hasten
his dissolution.
The Falstaffs, in every reign, were staunch courtiers. Hundwulf’s
son and successor, Aymer de Falstaffe (the name had been Gallicised
by his father), was a great favourite with William the Second, by
whom he was knighted. In proof of the good fellowship that existed
between the monarch and subject, the latter is not merely known to
have lent his royal master repeated sums of money (which, owing to
the troubles of the reign, were never accounted for), but is
rumoured to have embraced the Jewish religion with that humorous
monarch. This calumny remained as a stigma on the family for three
generations, to the great annoyance of its representatives. Any
suspicion, however, of leaning to the tenets of Judaism was
triumphantly refuted in the reign of Henry the Second, by Roger de
Falstaffe (fourth in descent from Hundwulf), who, lacking the means
of keeping up his dignity at court, entrapped two travelling Jews into
his castle, whom, with a view to making them divulge the secret of
their hidden treasures, he placed upon hot plates over a slow fire,
having previously extracted their teeth, according to the custom of
the period. The cries of these wretches (who, with the obstinacy of
their race, declared they were only poor Jewish youths, driven out of
the Empire and in search of help from a wealthy kinsman in London)
attracted the attention of a passing troop of King Henry’s private
guards. The leniency of that monarch towards the Jews has been
commented on with due severity by the clerical writers of the period.
It is certain that his persistent protection of those outcasts, in their
lives and properties, was difficult of explanation to all well-disposed
thinkers of that time, except on the ground of an utter absence of
religious principle. Be that as it may, the king’s guards besieged
Falstaff Castle, and took the two Jews off the fire ere they were half
done. Roger was tried for the offence, and sentenced to perpetual
banishment, with confiscation of his estates.
Peter de Falstaffe, his son, followed Cour de Lion to the Crusades;
and, in consideration of faithful services, was reinstated by that
monarch in the possession of a considerable portion of his
inheritance. Peter, who was an enthusiastic hero-worshipper,
imitated his lion-hearted benefactor in everything—even to adopting
the Royal mistake of wishing to be thought a poet. It was a received
maxim among the critics of the period, that there was only one man
living capable of writing worse poetry than the king’s—that man
being Peter de Falstaffe. Falstaff Park, in his time, was known by the
ignominious title of Fiddler’s Green, in allusion to the droves of
minstrels, troubadours, and illuminators who, with their wives and
families, flocked to enjoy the munificent hospitality of Peter’s
mansion, where (strangely belying their ancient nomadic reputation)
they took up their quarters as a permanency. Peter died in 1132,
much in debt to the Gascon merchants of the Vintry, and deeply
regretted—by the minstrels and illuminators.
The first act of Haulbert, his son, was to clear the premises of
those gifted occupants; in which work of ejection he was assisted by
a faithful bulldog. He administered to his father’s literary effects by
tying them up in a bundle, and disposing of them for something
under the cost price of the vellum to a Lombard broker in the city of
London.
There is a blank in history as to the fate of Haulbert. He is known
to have been a man of violent character, and to have died
somewhere towards the end of Henry the Third’s reign. In this reign,
several noblemen and country gentlemen were executed for highway
robbery.
 Henry Falstaff (son of Haulbert, and seventh in descent from
Hundwulf), in the time of Edward the First, restored the family name
to its ancient spelling. Inspired by the successful efforts of this
prince to fuse the various elements of the nation into one common
English whole, he attempted to restore the old Saxon ways on his
estate. He called himself Hengist; and, amongst other obsolete
institutions, revived the Hirlas Horn, with the customs of Drink Hael
and Waes Hael. These—by way of enforcing precept by example—he
made frequent use of in his own person; till, like many other
inventors and reformers, he fell a victim to his own devices. His
death, however, was accelerated by a singular circumstance. He had
a number of brass collars made, intending to fix them about the
necks of his tenantry, or, as he preferred to consider them, his
ceorles, after the manner of the ancient Saxon proprietors. Meeting
with a prosperous farmer on his estate, one Snogg, the son of
Huffkin, he requested the latter to kneel down that he might affix
the badge of servitude, which, he assured him in the blandest and
most engaging manner, was the old English way of doing things.
Snogg replied, that he knew another old English way of doing things,
namely, the way to give anybody a good thrashing who attempted
any liberties with a free-born Briton. Snogg explained this method of
proceeding in a practical manner, and left his landlord (already
enfeebled by copious reference to the Hirlas Horn) for dead on the
field. Snogg’s life was declared forfeit; but as he was very popular
among his labourers, and had some excellent pitchforks at his
disposal, he succeeded in keeping the forces of the sheriff at bay for
a considerable period, receiving the extreme unction at the age of
ninety-seven, in the reign of King Edward the Second.
Uffa, son of Hengist Falstaff, was a wit, and court favourite in the
reign of Edward the Second. None of his good things have been
preserved; but as a proof that his facetious powers were of no mean
order, it is on record that towards the close of Edward’s reign he
received a crown from the privy purse for making that unhappy
monarch laugh; an achievement which, considering his Majesty’s
lively position at the time, could not have been easy. What the exact
jest was is unknown; but it seems to have been levelled at Roger
Mortimer, the leader of the queen’s faction. For, on the seizure of the
king’s person, as Falstaff (dreading the resentment of the victorious
party) was hastening to conceal himself on his estate, he was
arrested by Mortimer himself, at the head of a troop. On being told
the name of his prisoner, Mortimer said, “So! this is the knave who
got a crown for a jest at my expense. He owes me a crown in
common equity; and by the Lord he shall pay it. Let his head be
lopped off straightway.” Which sentence was put into immediate
execution.
The above anecdote is in part mentioned by Hume.
Geoffrey Falstaff, son of the sprightly but ill-fated Uffa, lost a limb
in the Scottish wars, wherein he had greatly distinguished himself.
Thus incapacitated from further service in the field, he resolved to
devote himself to the improvement of his estate—which, to be sure,
stood in need of something of the kind. The manner in which he set
about the undertaking is characteristic. He ordered William of
Wykeham, the celebrated architect (then engaged in rebuilding the
king’s palace at Windsor), to construct for him, on the site of the old
tumble-down family mansion,—which, though dignified by the name
of castle, was merely a dilapidated old Saxon grange, frequently
altered and added to at the caprice of its successive owners,—a
baronial residence, fit for a man of his rank and fame. William drew
out his plans, and the works of demolition and reconstruction were
set in hand. A splendid tower, which was to form the corner of an
immense quadrangle, to be surmounted by a donjon keep in the
centre, was all but finished, when it was discovered that money and
building materials were no longer forthcoming. Geoffrey—always a
bad accountant—was with difficulty made to understand that the
mortgage or even sale of his entire possessions would not suffice to
meet the cost of erecting two sides of the proposed quadrangle. As
the good knight’s building mania had already reduced his estate to a
bare sufficiency for the maintenance of his household, the design
was reluctantly abandoned. Fortunately, the main portion of the old
structure had been left standing for purposes of temporary
accommodation. The solitary tower with William of Wykeham’s bill
(in an unreceipted condition) were preserved by the family as
colossal monuments of Geoffrey’s magnificent intentions.
Geoffrey’s son and successor was the father of our hero, that
Gilbert. Falstaff of whose character and financial condition a glimpse
has been already obtained from his own writing. As he will appear
personally in our narrative, we will dismiss him for the present with a
brief allusion to his marriage. For the most part, the early Falstaffs
seem to have married into the poorer branches of noble families, in
order to support their aristocratic pretensions. This being impossible
in Gilbert’s case, owing to the scantiness of his patrimony, he wisely
resolved on reversing the rule, and disposing of the honour of his
alliance. He espoused Mistress Alice Bacon, the daughter of a
wealthy merchant of the Wool Staple. The dower of this
gentlewoman established the house of Falstaff—for some months at
any rate—in a position of something like comfort and solvency. Sir
Gilbert never ceased to remind his lady of the great sacrifice his love
for her had induced him to make, in bestowing on her his name and
protection. He was at the pains to do this, in order that she might
feel assured he had made such sacrifice willingly, and to prevent her
debt of gratitude to him from being burdensome.
There seem to have arisen no collateral branches of the Falstaff
family.
The circumstances of the house, generally, make it improbable
that there should have been any material provision for its younger
sons. These seem usually to have left home, at an early age, to seek
fortune; and as there is no record of any of them having found it, we
must conclude that the evil genius of their race pursued them, and
that they met with various dooms among the bands of free lances,
condottieri, Brabançons, crusaders, rapparees, pirates,
sheepstealers, rogues, thieves, and vagabonds, with which the
history of those ages abounds.
 III. OF THE TRICK PLAYED BY
LITTLE JACK FALSTAFF ON SIR
THOMAS MOWBRAY
AND HIS FOLLOWING; AND HOW JACK WAS
CARRIED AWAY TO LONDON.

T
HERE is no merrier place in all Merry England—for it shall not
lose the well-earned nickname, in spite of commercial
enterprise and political economy—than the county of Kent;
that rosiest of the fair country’s cheeks, which she so artfully
presents on the side whence visitors first approach to salute her;
where the giant hops grow like Garagantua’s vineyards, and where
the larks fly about the tall corn nearly as big as partridges: the
county of all counties, that is famous for fair maids, monstrous
cherries, and all things that are ripe, ruddy, and wholesome!
Five hundred years ago, in the very heart of this laughing district,
Falstaff Castle—or Folly, as it was irreverently styled by the
neighbours—stood, at a distance of some twelve miles from the sea,
and seven or eight from what was by courtesy called a road from
Dover to Canterbury.
It was a quaint old building—situated in a wide, flat valley,
between low, sloping hills. The site appeared too well chosen to
have been the selection of any of the thriftless, blundering race who
had held the soil for so many generations. Rumour, indeed, asserted
that the estate had been wrested by an early Falstaff (taking
advantage of an invasion of the heathen Danes to make war upon
the professors of Christianity) from an order of Saxon monks. The
rich surrounding plains—nicely watered by a brisk, gurgling stream,
on the surface of whose waters the word “trout” was written in
letters of burnished silver—and the thickly wooded uplands, certainly
made it a very likely looking monastic site. Still, as the building itself
presented no trace of ecclesiastical architecture, Rumour might be
safely defied on this question.
The house was an old three-sided, one-storied Saxon grange,
enclosing a quadrangle. Its original form, however, was not easy of
detection at a glance. Here and there, where the thatched roof had
fallen in, some ambitious proprietor had run up a turret, apparently
with no other design than that of “playing at castles.” In one place, a
Gothic transept had been attempted, with a tolerably handsome
mullioned window; but the hall, which the window had been
intended to illuminate, not having been constructed, that ornament
had been backed up with slanting thatch, and served only to
enlighten the family cows, by whom its beauties were, doubtless,
appreciated. Eccentric sheds, outhouses, and supplementary wings
of all shapes and dimensions,—except the symmetrical or the grand,
—clustered round the parent edifice like limpets on a stone. The
whole was surrounded, at some distance, by a goodly moat (fed
from the neighbouring trout stream), which had long been ceded as
a perpetual seat of war between the ducks and tadpoles. The
approach to the house was by a drawbridge, that had not been
raised for many years, and was now incorporated with the common
road, till such time as its rotten timbers should give way, and
possibly precipitate a load of wheat or so into the ditch beneath. The
bridge was backed by a small but well-built turreted gate of the early
Norman school. In this there were the grooves for a portcullis. But if
the iron grillage had ever been furnished, it had disappeared before
the recollection of the oldest clodhopper. A low wooden gate had
once supplied its place, but had lost its hinges, and lay halfburied in
farm-yard refuse. The arched gateway, black with age and neglect,
was surmounted by a dazzling, jaunty-looking freestone shield,—on
which the arms of the family had been newly carved by no inartistic
hand,—marvellously suggestive of a new patch on an old jerkin or a
jewel in a swine’s ear.
 At some distance from the main building, and close inside the
moat—for Geoffrey Falstaff’s magnificent architectural dreams had
conceived the covering of almost the entire enclosure—stood the
really splendid tower of William of Wykeham, which had given the
name of Folly to the family mansion. This was a most imposing and
picturesque object. Though barely twenty years had elapsed since its
construction, it presented all the aspects of a venerable ruin. Being
built of soft Norman stone, which rapidly crumbles and darkens in
our climate; being roofless and windowless in the upper stories;
having been utterly neglected and being overrun by ivy and other
creeping plants, nourished by a scarcely credible waste of farm
ordures heaped on the soil beneath, the tower looked like the last
proud relic of some mighty fortress long since swept away by the
ravages of war—the original building appearing like a heap of
ignoble fabrics constructed from its ruins.
On the compulsory abandonment of his building mania, Geoffrey
Falstaff had been seized by a counterpoise one for economy. He had
resolved on converting the tower into a mill; and even went so far as
to dam the moat and construct a water-wheel. He was thinking
about borrowing money to purchase mill-stones, when he died. His
son Gilbert, having no turn for such ignoble pursuits, neglected to
supply the deficiency. The dam was allowed to stagnate and the
wheel to rot—adding much to the picturesqueness of the place.
Altogether, Falstaff Castle—viewed by the light of a dazzling May
morning in the year 1364, on which we are supposed to make its
first acquaintance—presented as nice a higgledy-piggledy of
improvidence, vanity, and eccentricity as one could wish to see. And
yet it was charming from its sheer disorder! Every vagabond species
of tree and shrub that would was suffered to run riot up the sloping
banks of the moat (strongly reminding the historic student of the
minstrels and illuminators in the time of Peter). Myriads of birds kept
up an incessant din. Communism reigned as an established principle
among the domestic animals. The cows, from a defective wall in
their Gothic residence, had free access to the briar-grown orchard
behind the house. The philosophic pig was everywhere. Fowls,
ducks, and pigeons roamed wild without count or restriction among
the shrubberies, building where they pleased as fero natures, and
affording excellent sport and provender to the house-dogs, with
whom they were not on sufficiently intimate terms to claim the
immunity of neighbours.
There was one little oasis, of prim, quakerlike neatness, amid this
unkempt desert of thriftlessness. On the left wing of the building a
little horn-latticed door opened upon a garden leading down to the
moat. Here the grass was shorn like a friar’s poll, and interlaced with
shingle-walks as even and well-ordered as the galloon on a lackey’s
coat. It was streaked with little beds of jet-black earth that might
have been dug with silver spoons and raked with my lady’s comb.
On these the snowdrops and crocuses lay already dead, and the
primroses were drooping. But the daffodils still held their own
bravely. The Kentish roses were also budding about the walls and
hedges in this enclosure—for it was a sheltered spot looking to the
south, and the season was early. On one side was a straight bed,
showing as yet no vegetation, but studded with little cleft pegs
surmounted by wooden labels. This was evidently the department of
medical simples of the rarest virtues, and was shut out from its more
holiday neighbour by a hedge of apple-trees trained espalier-wise.
Two or three more fruit trees—cherry, apple, and plum—rose above
the flower beds, evidently of a choice description, and all smothered
in white or pink blossoms. There was also a goodly vine, trained
against the house, and forming a green porch over the latticed door.
There was no approach to this spot but from the house. The two
sides leading down to the moat were jealously guarded by stout
hedges of blackthorn and sweetbriar, overrun with luxuriant hop-
bines, at that time a rarity, in what has since grown to be the hop-
garden of the world.
This was the private garden of Lady Alice Falstaff, tended almost
exclusively by her own hands. There was, haply, not such another at
the time in all rich, improvident England. But Mistress Alice Bacon
had been a travelled merchant’s daughter, and had brought more
than flower seeds with her from the land of the patient, thrifty
Flemings.
A broad, uneven horse-track led from the front gate by a rough
wooden bridge over the trout stream, and then wound its way to the
right up what had once been Falstaff Chase, keeping in sight for full
half a mile till it disappeared behind a hill.
Now, mark what happened at Falstaff Castle on the bright May
morning I have spoken of.
There came, cantering and jingling over the hill and down the
chase towards the castle, a gay troop of cavaliers, with pennon
streaming and steel caps flashing in the sun.
Now, it was a time of peace. Had it not been, Falstaff Keep was in
no condition to stand a siege. And yet, from the effect caused by the
sight of these horsemen, an observer would have thought to hear
drums beating and horns blowing—with drawbridge up and portcullis
down in a crack of time. For no sooner had the sound of hoofs
roused a neatherd from a comfortable nap by the banks of the trout
stream (from crossing which it was his business to prevent the cattle
in his charge—the pasturage on the other side being mortgaged to a
neighbour), than he leaped to his feet, and, leaving his cows to
enjoy themselves in the field opposite, scampered towards the
house like one possessed, as fast as his hob-nailed cowskins would
let him, and roaring at the top of his voice—
“Volk a horseback!”
There was only one point of strict discipline really enforced at
Falstaff. This was, that on the approach of strangers, the lord of the
castle, if at home, should be immediately apprised thereof. Many
awkward accidents had occurred from the breach of this rule.
The neatherd rushed unceremoniously into the presence of Sir
Gilbert Falstaff, and the lady Alice, his wife, cowskins, hob-nails and
all. Fortunately, there were no carpets in those days.
The knight was pricking arms on vellum, at a little side table, with
a flagon by his side. The lady Alice, helped by two neat little maids,
was mending hose at a window.
 “Volk a horseback coming down park,” said the breathless
messenger.
Sir Gilbert started up in alarm.
“How many? What kind? How far off?”
“Ten or fifteen, mayhap. Steel-caps, speards, and a penance.”
The knight wrung his hands, and rushed to the window to
reconnoitre. It was pitiful to see his distress as he whimpered,—
“Alack! alack! ‘Tis a knight and his following. Pestilence seize
them! What seek they here? Certes some Lord of the Court,—and to
see me in this plight—with darned hose! Bar the shutters! Say the
knight and lady are at court—at their castle in the north—in-
Flanders. Plague on them! Would I were dead!”
The hind moved to depart, scratching his head, with a confused
notion as to his general orders.
“Stay, good fellow,” the lady Alice said, rising from her seat. She
was a comely English matron, well grown, with blue eyes and golden
hair,—yet fair to look on; though with a face harder in expression
than it doubtless had once been, for she had been sorely tried in her
married lifetime.
“Shame on you, Sir Gilbert Falstaff, to teach your hinds such base
artifices! How can you hope they will serve you truly? Bid them
welcome, Jankin, to such poor cheer as we can give them. Why,
man! there is not an inn within eight leagues.”
“Jankin, go not. Art thou mad, woman? Art thou mad? Thou with
nothing but a cloth kirtle, and I in this miserable——But thou go to!
Thou art a true trader’s daughter.”
“Even so. One of those whose office it is to keep poor knights
from starving.” (It was a fault of this good dame’s, that she would be
bitter in her speech at times.) “I will not send these away an
hungered. Come, maidens, away with the hose-baskets, and busily
with me to the kitchen.” Lady Alice, followed by her two little
maidens, left the room. The sound of the horses’ feet approached
rapidly. There was no time to be lost. Sir Gilbert clutched Jankin
nervously by the arm, and said to him in hurried tones,—
“Take thou brown Crecy; thou wilt find her in the orchard (if she
be not loose in the wheat); saddle and gallop like wind to Sir Simon
Ballard’s. Bid him lend me his new green velvet surcoat,—that with
the gold stars. Dost heed? Say a nobleman of the court is with me,
who desires one like it. Then to Dame Adlyn, the yeoman’s wife. Say
I have a wager with a certain earl, who lies here, that the weight of
her gold chain is greater than his. Bid her lend it me for an hour.
Spare not whip or spur, and I will owe thee a guerdon. Stay!—if
these riders question thee, say the knight is gone out with his
hawks. Speed!”
Jankin departed with a beaming face. He had no great faith in the
promised guerdon, but he was fond of horse exercise.
The cavalcade was at the gate.
“A murrain on them!” Sir Gilbert muttered. “Would they were in
the Red Sea! And yet I lack court news sorely. Pray Heaven that
miser Ballard, and that farmer’s jade, Adlyn, stand me in good
stead.”
Sir Gilbert having impressed upon the household the fiction he
was desirous of keeping up, retired to bite his nails in a garret, till
such time as Jankin should return with the borrowed plumes.
The visitors were met at the gate by one of Lady Alice’s little
maids. Falstaff was rather bare in the commodity of men-servants,
and those it possessed were none of the most presentable. Master
Lambert, the Reve or Steward, who was believed to be much richer
than his master, had been called to Sandwich on business of his
own, leaving his master’s to take care of itself.
The leader of the cavalcade was a handsome young man of some
one or two and twenty. He was

——“a doughty swaine;

White was his face as pandemaine,
His lippes red as rose.
His rudde is like scarlet in grain,
And I you tell in good certain,
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