In those days, as we have before hinted, men of all ranks took delight in out-door sports and diversions. Their amus.e.m.e.nts were, for the most part, in the open air, and the chase, and the terms of wood-craft were ever mixed up in their conversation. The veriest lout in his holiday excursion loved to see his mongrel cur hunt the meadows and marshes for game, or catch the cony in the extensive warrens which then existed around. The youthful Shakespeare, it may therefore be well imagined, was pa.s.sionately fond of seeking the haunts of the game, abundant as it was in the neighbourhood of his native town. Under these circ.u.mstances the sporting establishment at Clopton was looked over with considerable interest by him, and as the fair Charlotte petted the favourite hawk which usually graced her wrist, she taught him the several terms of falconry, and even explained how the various grades of men in the old time were recognized by their hawks. "An eagle," she said, "is for an emperor; a gerfalcon is due to a king; a falcon-gentle and a tercel-gentle, these be for a prince; a falcon of the rook is for a duke; the falcon peregrine for a belted earl; your bustard is for a baron; a sacret for a knight, and a lanair is for a squire; and then,"

said Charlotte, as she continued to count up further varieties, "we have the goshawk for the yeoman, the spave hawk for Sir Priest, a muskyte for a holy-water clerk, and a kestrel for a knave or varlet."

Whilst thus situated and employed, how swift is the growth of love between two beings of disposition and character such as we have described. As the youthful poet watched the expressive face of the beautiful girl beside him, whilst she spoke so eloquently upon a subject of interest to her, and as she gave herself up to the management of her falcon, or played with and fondled her favourite dogs, he became more fascinated with her artlessness and beauty. He marked the natural grace of her movements, as, in all the freedom of unchecked enjoyment, she entered into the excitement of the hour. He observed the nymph-like figure, the glowing face, the luxuriant tresses uncontrolled in the soft breeze, and he listened with delight to the joyous and ringing laugh; and as he beheld her thus, his admiration was touched with sadness, for he thought that all this elegance and beauty was far removed from his hopes. "One fading moment's mirth" perchance was bought "with twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights."

Attended by the head falconer and one or two of his men, as they followed the flight of Charlotte's hawk, they had extended their ramble to some considerable distance beyond the chace, and the mid-day sun was so oppressive, that they returned through the thick and shadowy woods, which on one side extended to within a short distance of the Hall. And here too--as the gra.s.shopper uttered his peculiar chirp in the p.r.i.c.kling gorse and thorn, and as the sweet scent of the fern pervaded the air--these unfrequented glades gave rise to thoughts only incident to fresh and stainless youth ere the blunter feelings of riper years rob us of their verdant freshness.

Images of vernal brightness floated before the poet's mind, and feelings of youth, and hope, and joy were blended with the thoughts of her he loved: images such as Shakespeare could alone have conceived. And she who was the object of that love, as she listened to the sportive gaiety of his words, during this ramble, and as he called forth the elves and fairies of his brilliant imagination, she felt as if wandering in a magic grove and breathing the sweet odours of an elfin bower: and then, again, he peopled the glades with bright forms, fresh and l.u.s.ty as in the first ages of the world. And when he himself parted from his fair companion on reaching the Hall, and he returned again through the plantations of Clopton, he sought out each spot which Charlotte had seemed most interested in, and dwelt upon each look, and tone, and word, she had uttered. 'Twas indeed a midsummer day's dream, a situation in which he was carried from the reality of the present, to the realms of fancy, a dream that haunted him in after years. The thoughts and imaginings which pervaded the mind of the youthful Shakespeare, during these moments, were what perhaps he himself would have failed in describing.

Few of us can convey in words the heavenly images which float in celestial ether, as it were, through the brain. We feel in the feeble attempt the unsufficing medium of language. Words are but the clayed embodiment of the swift thought. The thought itself is the essence of the soul--poetry unspeakable. We cannot word that which is divine.

Language has no power to render again the shadowy dream--the musing reverie.

Whilst under the influence of feelings such as these, the society and the haunts of men were uncongenial to the poetic youth, and he usually sought out the wildest scenes of his native country. Over park, over pale, he bounded, and the keepers, who caught sight of him occasionally in their forest walks, failed in arresting him in his rambles.

CHAPTER XV.

CHARLECOTE.

In a former chapter we have seen the sharp and sententious Lawyer Grasp, in the act of girding up his loins and preparing to set forth upon a somewhat important mission: a matter, indeed, not likely to be effected without some little danger to all concerned in its execution. The shrewd lawyer, however, to say the least of him, was not altogether devoid of courage, and, albeit his valour was modified by a certain degree of discretion, he loved to be first when anything was to be gained by leading the van.

In the present instance he thought he spied a good chance of promotion, both as regarding his instrumentality in apprehending or gaining notice of a dangerous plot, but he also hoped to make a profitable intimacy with the proud owner of Charlecote: and, as he spurred his palfry onwards, visions of suits, and testaments, and t.i.tle deeds, and strong boxes, pertaining to the domain he was entering, floated through his brain in rapid succession.

Plots and complots, conspiracies, and secret meetings to kill a queen, were, indeed, in his eye, as nothing, unless pertaining to the advancement of one small person who wrote himself attorney in the town of Stratford: and who hoped, one day, to be the richest and greatest man there. The world around was nothing: the covering sky was nothing; England was nothing, except as pertaining to Master Pouncet Grasp; nay, so long as the small circle of air around his own proper person was wholesome and fit for the purposes of respiration, it would have been all the same to him if the atmosphere in general were infected with the plague. He was, indeed, without question, the most selfish little caitiff that ever drove a quill upon parchment.

Charlecote, the residence of Sir Thomas Lucy, was one of those vast, irregularly built, but picturesque looking mansions, which gives impression, at first sight, of the architectural style of the Tudors.

Redolent of red brick picked out with white, full of large bay windows, beetling balconies, twisted chimneys, gable ends, and gate-houses. A magnificent structure looking like a brick-built palace, situate in the midst of the most luxuriant foliage; which partially concealed its mult.i.tudinous offices, its falconries, its dog-kennels, and its thick-walled gardens.

As Grasp, therefore, approached this curious building, he beheld its embattled towers and ma.s.sive chimneys embosomed in ancient trees of vast size, and most soft and lovely foliage. Nothing, perhaps, could be more impressive than the whole scene. The vast park studded with mossed trees, and the herded deer couched in the fern, beneath the shade. The gigantic avenue, flourishing in all the grandeur of its undecayed age, and each particular tree throwing its deep shadow upon the gra.s.sy carpet beneath, with the lordly mansion only partially seen at its extremity.

As Grasp entered this gloomy, but majestic avenue, he drew bridle, and paused for a few moments to rea.s.sure himself, and consider matters over, and as he did so, he became impressed with the deep and solemn silence reigning around, a silence only occasionally interrupted by the baying howl from the kennel, an occasional winding note from the huntsman's bugle, or the clear ringing sound of the old clock from the tower of the red brick gate-house.

As the little lawyer gazed around, a sort of awe crept over his paltry soul, he became at each step more deeply impressed with the greatness of the man he was about to approach, and from the wealth he saw around him, he began to consider whether he himself was worthy of coming into the presence of one so mighty. For Grasp's idol was money, the only Providence he believed in or worshipped.

Added to this he knew from report the aristocratic and exclusive disposition of Sir Thomas, his haughty bearing towards his inferiors, and his dislike of intrusion, and he began to doubt whether the knight might take it well, that he had come thus in person to communicate with him, more especially as he himself had very lately been engaged in a suit against Sir Thomas, inst.i.tuted by one of the tradesmen of Stratford, and in which Grasp, by trickery, had managed to get a verdict against the great man.

In short, as Grasp approached the house, he began to feel that he would almost rather have demanded an interview with Queen Elizabeth herself, than with the owner of the domain of Charlecote. He even began to doubt, whether (if Sir Thomas should happen to catch sight of him before an opportunity offered for introducing his important mission) the proud knight would not either order his attendants to whip him out of the park-gates, or perhaps even set his hounds upon him and hunt him through the grounds. These thoughts and apprehensions the more forcibly impressed themselves upon his mind, as the caitiff was well aware he fully deserved as much at Sir Thomas's hands.

However, the business he was upon at length outweighed all other considerations, and setting spurs to his sorry nag, he hastened onwards and neared the house.

As he did so he found that he had timed his visit exactly as he had antic.i.p.ated, and that Sir Thomas and his family were about to take their afternoon excursion. For (amongst his other peculiarities) the old knight was exceedingly punctual and precise in all his doing, keeping the even tenor of his way, and timing his different movements as exactly as the clock in the tower of his gate-house was true to the dial in the pleasaunce. As Grasp therefore approached he beheld the palfreys and attendants of the family party, mustering in front of the mansion,--a goodly sight to look on, and which made Grasp open his eyes as he beheld it.

Sir Thomas, like most others in the country at this period, was one of those proud men who like to do every thing with circ.u.mstance and parade, and accordingly if he only rode across the park to shoot a buck, he usually was attended by a round dozen of his keepers and servants.

At the present time, as he was about to take his afternoon ride, and perhaps pay a formal visit to one or two of his immediate neighbours, his party, including his own family and the attendant serving-men, amounted to about a score. The sight was a gallant one,--such as in our own times we may behold represented upon the artist's canva.s.s, or during the scenic hour, but never again with all its circ.u.mstance in real life.

There were a.s.sembled the serving men and attendants, with the three white Lucys embroidered in silver upon their green hunting-frocks. The head falconer, clad in a sort of loose frock of scarlet cloth; the keepers carrying the hawks upon a stand, and several attendant grooms with the knight's favourite dogs in their charge. For, as with men of this sort the sports of the field was the chief occupation of life, so the companionship of their dogs and hounds seemed almost necessary to their enjoyment; they seldom made a journey without the favourite hawk or hound, and they as seldom rode to take the air on the most ordinary occasions, without being provided with the means of striking any game they might put up in their route. The hawk upon the wrist was as necessary also to the lady, as the spur upon the heel to the knight. The most interesting part of the present display, however, and that which struck the little lawyer with a sort of dread, was the sporting old knight himself, and his three daughters, as they came forth and mounted their steeds.

There was, indeed, something about Sir Thomas Lucy, that, to a man of Grasp's sort, seemed unapproachable, incomprehensible, and even awful.

His tall gaunt figure, clad in his hunting-frock of scarlet cloth embroidered with gold, with all the ta.s.selled appointments to match--the long leather gauntlets upon his hands--and the high russet boots upon his legs, were well matched by the grey hair and peaked beard, the aquiline features, and the pale complexion of the stern-looking old knight. In fact, there was a something inexpressibly n.o.ble in the appearance of that grey old man. He looked one of the Norman knights of the crusading times returned to his halls,--so pale, so wan, so antique, and yet withal so knightly in his bearing. The hand seemed formed for the rapier, the head for the helm, the heel for the spur. If the little lawyer felt at the moment somewhat impressed with the appearance of the old knight, now that he was about to approach him, he was no less struck with the grace and beauty of his daughters. They seemed to his eye, at that moment (and as he regarded them, seated upon their palfreys), creatures of a superior race to the generality of human mortals; celestial beings, with "beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear."

In fact, Grasp was so feelingly impressed with a sense of inferiority as he approached the presence of the Knight of Charlecote, that once or twice he was about to wheel his steed, and return as he had come.

Indeed he certainly had done so, had not the old knight suddenly caught sight of him, just as he came into the open s.p.a.ce in which the party was a.s.sembled, and fixed him like a basilisk.

It happened unluckily for Grasp, that the avenue was not often made a thoroughfare for any but visitors to the Hall, and accordingly, the apparition of the meagre-looking lawyer, clad in a sad-coloured suit, carrying a little bag in his hand, and bowing to the pommel of his saddle every step he took, rather struck Sir Thomas Lucy with astonishment. The knight had just at that precise moment thrown his leg over his palfrey, and settled his gaunt person fairly in the demipique, or war-saddle, it was his usual wont to use, when he espied the lawyer; and the effect upon both was like the boa-constrictor suddenly coming in sight of its prey. The lawyer seemed transfixed for the moment, whilst the magnifico, with his movements arrested, regarded him with a stern and curious eye.

At length Sir Thomas signed to one of his attendants to approach, and, pointing to the lawyer, desired him to inquire into the meaning of the intrusion.

"Inquire me of yonder man," said the knight, "wherefore he hath approached the house on this side, and which it is our desire to keep secluded from public resort, and the eyes of the common and popular."

"He hath business of great import, and craves an immediate and private audience with your worship," said the serving-man, after communicating with Grasp.

"Hath he a name?" said Sir Thomas.

"He had rather your worship heard his business first and his name afterwards," said the serving-man, "so much did he inform me when I made inquiry; but I rather think it is Master Grasp, the lawyer of Stratford."

Sir Thomas winced. "And what doth Master Grasp, the lawyer of Statford require with Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecote?" dryly he said. "Inquire me out his business; and if he tell it not, convey him round to the proper entrance for people of his sort; and, d'ye hear? wait on him out."

During this colloquy, the lawyer had gained somewhat of his self-sufficiency, and, dismounting, approached Sir Thomas, and ventured to accost him.

"Will your honourable worship," he said, "favour me with a hearing at this unseasonable moment, upon matters of high import, connected with the safety of our gracious Sovereign the Queen and the welfare of the whole realm?"

"If thy communication be of so much importance as that," said the knight, "it behoves me, as a true subject, to give attention to it. The body public and the safety of the realm demand so much of us."

"'Tis a matter of so much importance," said Grasp, "that it concerns all who wish not to be burned, racked, whipped, beaten, and otherwise tormented to death by the Spaniard. 'Tis no less a matter, Sir Thomas Lucy, than a discovery I have made of a nest of traitors, who are, at this moment, a.s.sembled together, at Stratford, for the purpose of contriving the murder of our Queen and the delivery of the kingdom into the hands of Philip of Spain."

Grasp delivered this piece of intelligence with so much eagerness and vehemence, that he had approached quite close to Sir Thomas, in his anxiety that his news should not be overheard, and the old knight was in something impressed with its importance. He, however, drew back from too close contact with the Stratford lawyer, warning him to remove a little further from his person.

"Your communication is doubtless of the utmost importance," he said coolly, as he prepared to dismount; "we will instantly hear all you have to say. Nevertheless, confine your eagerness to serve Her Majesty within proper bounds." So saying, Sir Thomas dismounted from his palfry, and coolly desiring his daughters to continue their ride, led the way into the house, and, followed by Grasp, entered his private study.

The loyalty of the man would not permit him to pause a moment, as soon as he fully comprehended the nature of the business. He took two turns up and down the apartment; and then ordered the head-keeper to be summoned into his presence. "I will arrest these miscreants with my own proper hand and with my own people," he said, "instantly, without a moment's delay. Meantime, I will send over to my good neighbour, Sir Hugh Clopton, and inform him of it, so that he may meet me at Stratford on my arrival there, and aid me in this capture. Not so much," he continued to himself, "that I require his a.s.sistance, as that he may partake with me in the honour of cutting the throats of such vile wretches, an they resist lawful authority."

"May it please your worship," said Grasp, "there is a thing, I omitted to say, and which I had said, only that I feared its knowledge would most heartily grieve, astonish, and dismay your worship."

"You have already both astonished and somewhat grieved us," said Sir Thomas, "in delivering the piece of intelligence you came here charged withal. In how far you may be further able to dismay us, we may be perhaps permitted to doubt: nevertheless, we would fain be made acquainted with the nature of this omitted circ.u.mstance."

"Sir Hugh Clopton," said Grasp, "your worship spoke of him as aiding and a.s.sisting in the capture of these b.l.o.o.d.y-minded conspirators."

"I did so," said Sir Thomas. "Said I not well, good Master Grasp?"

"Your worship hath the gift of saying well," returned Grasp, who found himself gaining ground, he thought, in Sir Thomas's good graces. "But I grieve to say that Sir Hugh lieth under the imputation of being deeply implicated in this plot."

"How!" said Sir Thomas, losing something of austerity in his surprise.

"Sir Hugh Clopton implicated in such a h.e.l.lish conspiracy as this you have named? Had any man holding rank equal or superior to mine own, said so much, Master Pouncet Grasp, he had lied under the imputation of a liar and a caitiff at my hands."

"Nay," said Grasp, "I ask your worship's pardon, I had it from him who gave me the clue to the whole matter,--the honourable gentleman I told you of,--the right honourable Master Walter Neville."