Music and singing were much more cultivated (even amongst the humble cla.s.ses) than in our own times, in England, and where indeed they are now scarcely cultivated at all. The sweet old songs "of the old age,"

are for the most part lost to us, they have departed with the quainter dwellings in which they were warbled.

In those days the strains which floated through the halls of the great, and the notes which were heard in the low-roofed apartments of the citizen, were calculated to soothe and quiet the pa.s.sions of man. In our own times they are meant to arouse and excite--they are a whirl, a discordant noise. The lullabys which the mother chanted as she worked, were sc.r.a.ps of songs, great favourites at the time, and afterwards adapted from the recollection of the hearer in some of his works:

"Take, oh, take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn,-- And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn.

But my kisses bring again,--bring again, Seals of love, but seal'd in vain,--seal'd in vain."[2]

[Footnote 2: This song, which, no doubt, was a favourite in its day, is inserted in Beaumont and Fletcher's "b.l.o.o.d.y Brother."]

Not only the history of his own land, and which all ranks at this period were lamentably ignorant in, did the youthful Shakespeare receive the rudiments of from his mother; but she loved to amuse him with those stories of romance she had learned from her own parents, and which had been handed down from the chivalric ages, when the female of high degree was the teacher of youth. The great lady--"of exalted rank and inaccessible,"--who cultivates the mind of the youthful page--a mother, a sister, a guardian angel, and yet of such high degree, that she seems (in the austerity of her counsels, and the difficulties to be overcome, ere her favour can be gained) too great even to receive the adoration of him whose service costs so many sighs. Till in the end, as the accomplished knight is produced, the incarnation of merit and grace all fades away before the powerful G.o.d.

The youth achieves greatness, and becomes lord of that beautiful lady, her dark castle, and her broad domain, "with shadowy forests, and with champions rich."

CHAPTER XIV.

THE LOVERS.

But three days had intervened since young Shakespeare's introduction to Clopton Hall, and again he was a visitor there.

Although his own desire for the society of its amiable inmates might reasonably have led the youth to repeat his visit, his better judgment would have hindered him from so soon returning to Clopton, had he not been led to do so by Walter Arderne.

That young man felt so great a desire to renew his acquaintance with the youthful poet, that he had sought him out on the day following his visit; and had, indeed, been with him every succeeding day in the interval.

To one so amiable in disposition and so generous in sentiment as Walter Arderne, the difference in station between himself and friend was no bar to intimacy. Indeed, he felt so much in every way his own inferiority, whilst in company with this singular new acquaintance, that it seemed when in his society as if the condescension was on the other side. At the same time the joyous spirit of the youthful Shakespeare, and a spice of reckless daring in his disposition, gave an additional charm to his companionship. So that intimacy, which (amongst many) has been the source of the deadliest enmity, in this case led to the firmest friendship.

"I know not wherefore, good William," said Arderne, as they slowly wended their way towards Clopton, "but towards thee my feelings of friendship and attachment are greater than is ordinarily experienced between men not connected by blood. I am by birth thy superior, my prospects in life are more brilliant than thine, I mix with the choice spirits of the country here, and yet (albeit I am looked on as a wit, a setter of exploits, a leader of diversions, a good blade, and a sportsman), yet, somehow, my genius seems rebuked when in thy presence; I feel myself as it were naught. Nay, despite thy sober suit of homely cut and fashion, there is a superiority in every look, tone, and movement of thine, which I feel and wonder at."

"Nay," said Shakespeare, "this is something too much, good sir. 'Tis your love and friendship which makes you think thus. Be a.s.sured, the gay and gallant Walter Arderne can never be outshone by so quiet, so un.o.btrusive a wight as myself."

"Ah, so thou say'st," returned Arderne; "but why is it that I feel this veneration on so short an acquaintance with a mere boy? Thy converse is different from that of men even of learning and great attainments. There is a force, a feeling in every word thou utterest, which makes its impression. Yes, there is a manner about thee, William Shakespeare, which is inexplicable; whilst thy slightest remark upon the most trivial flowret in the hedgerow seems to me worth all the uttered wisdom of the schools."

"Nay, then," said Shakespeare, laughing, "thou art but flouting me, good Master Walter."

"Truly, thou art an extraordinary youth, good William, and the way thou hast drawn out the different characters we have met with as we walked the streets even to-day, and made them display their peculiarities and their follies, is as singular as all else pertaining to thee."

Whilst they held converse thus, Walter Arderne and his new friend drew near to the garden and pleasure-grounds of the Hall. As they did so, the eyes of the lover detected his mistress in the distance. She was slowly pacing along one of the walks, and perusing some verses written upon a small sc.r.a.p of paper. Arderne stopped as soon as he saw Charlotte Clopton, and as he watched her graceful form amidst the trees, he seemed for the moment wrapped in his own thoughts.

"Were it not," he said, after a pause, and turning to his youthful friend, "were it not that I so entirely love thee, good William, were it not that even in our short acquaintance I so highly esteem thee, I should hesitate to bring one so superior to myself in contact with her I adore; and were it not that thy superiority is so great, I should scorn to own such a feeling to thee, William Shakespeare, lest I compromised my own station by such thoughts. 'Tis strange, but so it is; and to any one but thee, I should have shamed to give my thoughts tongue on such a subject."

Ardorne sighed as he said this, and again looked towards the object of his ardent affection. "She loves me not," he said, "'tis vain for me to suppose she does. Her manner, despite her willingness to oblige her father, and even to persuade herself she feels inclination to wed with me, too plainly shews I have little or no real interest in her heart.

Had I but thy winning tongue and gift of speech, good William, I might do much. Nay, it were good that thou shouldst plead for me, and tell her of the violence of my pa.s.sion; and thou shalt do it too."

"Nay," said his friend, "that would be somewhat out of the usual course of wooing. I pray you hold me excused in this Master Arderne."

"Not a whit," said Arderne, "the thought is a good one. Women oft-times are led to prize that which those they think well of value,--to open their eyes and see clearly the hugeness of an affection they have not before appreciated."

"But I know not how to woo a maid for myself," said his friend, "since I have never yet made suit to one, how, then, am I to play the suitor for so accomplished a cavalier; I who hath not ever seen the court?"

"Tush, tush, man," said Arderne, "there's ne'er a courtier of them all could match thee, I dare be sworn."

And thus did the boy poet--the lover under circ.u.mstances so peculiar, spend another day at Clopton Hall, and where all he saw gave him a second impression of life in a different sphere to that in which he had hitherto moved. True to the whimsical project which had suddenly seized him, Walter Arderne left his friend with a fair opportunity of pleading for him to the fair Charlotte.

"When thou art tired of examining those worm-eaten volumes," he said to Shakespeare, "I dare be sworn thou wilt find Mistress Charlotte in her favourite arbour in the garden. Sir Hugh and myself are promised forth this morning. Farewell, therefore, for the present."

Our readers will readily imagine that the renewal of acquaintance between this youthful pair would be likely to ripen the growing affection they felt for each other. Concealment, however, seemed to both a matter of necessity. Neither dared to own, even to themselves, that they loved. Pride came to the aid of each. In one it was the pride which fears even the shadow of suspicion; in the other it was the pride of birth. The pride of ancestry, however, is soonest subdued in such cases; that of conscience is more difficult for the blind G.o.d to overcome.

And the youthful poet and the exquisite Charlotte found themselves thrown together, where every scene of beauty around them was conducive to the growth of their pa.s.sion.

The locality has oft-times much to do with love.

The lady, in all her glowing beauty, seemed even more lovely amidst her own shadowy groves, with the time-honoured towers of her ancestors looking majestic in the distance. The perfume from the sweetly-scented shrubs and flowrets, the whisper of the soft breeze through the luxuriant trees, the cooing of the wood-pigeons in the distant plantation, the hum of the bees, and the plash of the fountain, each and all were felt by one who was so p.r.o.ne to feel.

And he himself who walked beside that beautiful girl, thus surrounded by all the appliances of rank and station, how did he appear in her eyes in his lowly suit? Had he nothing to recommend him, and did he seem unfitted for the companionship of one so much more elevated in station?

Did he appear to feel himself out of place or abashed by all he saw? We think not. The lady looked upon that face of youthful beauty; the soft curly hair even then thin upon the high forehead, the features so beautifully formed and so expressive; that eye so soft, and yet at times so full of fire, and whose glance was like the lightning's flash; the small beautifully-formed and downy moustache upon the upper lip; and all this, added to a figure which for grace and symmetry might have vied with a Grecian statue. And as she looked and listened to his sweet and honied sentences, she felt that all around would darken down to naked waste without his society. The conversation of him who but a few days before she would have pa.s.sed without perhaps deigning to look upon, seemed to have opened a new world to her. Such is love,--that most fantastic of pa.s.sions, which is said to be but once felt, and once felt never forgotten.

The affections of women are perhaps easier won than those of men. They are commonly more disinterested, and "prize not quality of dirty lands."

Seldom do we find that women display such open heartlessness, such acts of infidelity, as men.

"For however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and infirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, Than woman's are."

That the fair Charlotte should, on better knowledge, more fully appreciate the merits of her companion, we of latter days, who imagine the man from his works alone, can hardly wonder at; and the peculiarities of the position of the lovers made her, falling desperately in love, the less extraordinary. Had the youth of inferior degree presumed upon the favourable impression he could not help seeing he had made, the pride of the lady might have better befriended her. But there was ever a certain reserve about him, when matters seemed verging towards their issue, which perplexed and somewhat piqued her.

The expression of his eyes, when occasionally she detected him gazing upon her, was hardly to be mistaken, but then his respectful reserve would as suddenly return.

This was, however, a state of things which could not last, and perhaps, of all men, the ardent, the impa.s.sioned Shakespeare, in his early youth, was the most unlikely person to withstand such a strife as he was exposed to, and come off victorious, however honour, and friendship, and pride, might come to his aid. The knowledge that he was beloved by the fair creature beside him, the locality, the opportunity afforded him of expressing his own feelings, altogether, even in this his second visit, nearly made shipwreck of all his good intentions, and once or twice he was about to seize the hand of the fair Charlotte, and after owning the ardour of his affection, fly from the spot for ever.

He, however, during this visit did manage to contain and conceal his pa.s.sion; nay, he even performed the office of friendship which had been entrusted to him, and as he spoke of the fair lady's betrothed husband, he praised him for those good qualities he had already found him to possess, and spoke of him as one worthy the love and regard of any woman, however excellent and high in station. This was a theme, however, which he perceived was somewhat unwelcome, and the beauty grew wayward as he pursued it. With girlish tact she beat him from his theme, as often as he renewed it, and sought to lure him to other subjects more congenial to her thoughts whilst in his society. Nay, perhaps had he studied how best to advance his own suit to her he could not have hit upon a way more likely to succeed.

The fair Charlotte was piqued at what she considered his insensibility, and without considering what she did, she almost let him understand that it would have been much more grateful to her to have heard the speaker's own merits extolled than those of Master Arderne.

"And yet," she said, with a sigh, as she glanced archly from her fringed lids, whilst her eyes were cast down in mock solemnity, "and yet I should be ungrateful were I not to join in your praises towards my bold coz, for in good sooth I am indebted to him for many of the accomplishments I possess. He hath taught me to fly my hawk with e'er a cavalier in Warwickshire. Nay, I think I could even shoe my palfrey as well as ride him, if necessary. I am sure I could train a hound as well as himself, and, as for the treatment of the poor brutes in all their ailments, that I am confident I understand quite as much as old Hubert, the head huntsman, or any of his underlings. Now, all these matters I have been fairly taught and perfected in by my cousin, therefore see an I be not under obligation indeed."

"And is such, the praise that one so true of heart and hand deserves?"

said Shakespeare. "Methinks, in this world, where so much silliness, selfishness, vanity, and falsehood exists, a perfect cavalier, without fault and honest, open and free too as he is brave and handsome, deserves more praise from the lips of beauty than for paltry knowledge you have ascribed to him."

"Paltry knowledge!" said Charlotte, laughing, "what call ye paltry? Why, these accomplishments I have enumerated to thee are the essentials of a country gentleman, as necessary for the woods and fields as dancing, dicing, and swearing are for the town. But methinks 'tis somewhat early for you to have taken note of the silliness and falsehood existing in the world; one so young can scarce have observed such matters, I should have thought."

"Pardon me, good lady," said Shakespeare, "what may be in the world at large I am, indeed, for the most part ignorant in. But our good town of Stratford hath in itself some fair specimens of the human mortal, which he who hath eyes to mark, and brains to consider, may easily profit by, and lay up in his memory."

"Methinks so shrewd an observer, and so keen withal, may chance to find us all fair mark for the shafts of his wit," returned Charlotte; "we shall learn to fear you, young sir, an ye prove so hard upon your neighbours."

"Nay, fair lady," said Shakespeare, "my observations hath only had to do with those in my own sphere of life. The little I have seen as yet in a higher grade, hath been glanced at during my boyhood at the Free School of my native town. Nay, if I may venture to judge, I should say that the same vices, the same ambitions, the same petty feelings, jealousies, and envious heart-burnings, are to be observed in the smaller circle of a charity-school and its rulers, as are to be observed in the great and universal theatre of the world. Amongst those who rule, we do not always find examples of unerring goodliness, grace, and virtue, but rather intolerance and pride, and in most others ill-will, conceit, envy, hatred, and uncharitableness; large promise; much of puritanism, but a plentiful lack of true merit."

During this visit, the fair Charlotte, who was all joyous anxiety to contribute to the amus.e.m.e.nt of her guest, made the round of the kennel and the falconry, in order to initiate him into the mysteries of the management of some of her pets.