William Shakespeare as He Lived: An Historical Tale

by Henry Curling

As Grasp, therefore, approached this curious building, he beheld its embattled towers and massive 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 grassy 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 reassure 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, instituted 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 anticipated, 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 circumstance 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 canvass, or during the scenic hour, but never again with all its circumstance in real life. There were assembled 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 tasselled 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 noble 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."