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 assured, the gay
and gallant Walter Arderne can never be outshone by so quiet, so
unobtrusive 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 scrap 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 passion; 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 circumstances 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 god 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 passion.
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 prone 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 passed without perhaps deigning to look upon,
seemed to have opened a new world to her. Such is love,--that most
fantastic of passions, 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 impassioned 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
passion; 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 amusement 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.
In those days, as we have before hinted, men of all ranks took delight
in out-door sports and diversions. Their amusements 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
passionately fond of seeking the haunts of the game, abundant as it was
in the neighbourhood of his native town. Under these circumstances 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 grasshopper uttered his peculiar chirp in the prickling
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 lusty 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.