Shallow. Ha! o’ my life, if I were young again, the sword should end it!”
Near the window thus emblazoned hung a portrait, by Sir Peter Lely, of one of the Lucy family, a great beauty of the time of Charles the Second: the old housekeeper shook her head as she pointed to the picture, and informed me that this lady had been sadly addicted to cards, and had gambled away a great portion of the family estate, among which was that part of the park where Shakespeare and his comrades had killed the deer. The lands thus lost had not been entirely regained by the family even at the present day. It is but justice to this recreant dame to confess that she had a surpassingly fine hand and arm.
The picture which most attracted my attention was a great painting over the fireplace, containing likenesses of Sir Thomas Lucy and his family who inhabited the hall in the latter part of Shakespeare’s lifetime. I at first thought that it was the vindictive knight himself, but the housekeeper assured me that it was his son; the only likeness extant of the former being an effigy upon his tomb in the church of the neighboring hamlet of Charlecot.*
[Original]
* This effigy is in white marble, and represents the knight
in complete armor. Near him lies the effigy of his wife, and
on her tomb is the following inscription; which, if really
composed by her husband, places him quite above the
intellectual level of Master Shallow:
Here lyeth the Lady Joyce Lucy wife of Sir Thomas Lucy of
Charlecot in ye county of Warwick, Knight, Daughter and heir
of Thomas Acton of Sutton in ye county of Worcester Esquire
who departed out of this wretched world to her heavenly
kingdom ye 10 day of February in ye yeare of our Lord God
1595 and of her age 60 and three. All the time of her lyfe a
true and faythful servant of her good God, never detected of
any cryme or vice. In religion most sounde, in love to her
husband most faythful and true. In friendship most constant;
to what in trust was committed unto her most secret. In
wisdom excelling. In governing of her house, bringing up of
youth in ye fear of God that did converse with her moste
rare and singular. A great maintayner of hospitality.
Greatly esteemed of her betters; misliked of none unless of
the envyous. When all is spoken that can be saide a woman so
garnished with virtue as not to be bettered and hardly to be
equalled by any. As shee lived most virtuotisly so shee died
most Godly. Set downe by him yt best did knowe what hath byn
written to be true.
Thomas Lucye.
The picture gives a lively idea of the costume and manners of the time. Sir Thomas is dressed in ruff and doublet, white shoes with roses in them, and has a peaked yellow, or, as Master Slender would say, “a cane-colored beard.” His lady is seated on the opposite side of the picture in wide ruff and long stomacher, and the children have a most venerable stiffness and formality of dress. Hounds and spaniels are mingled in the family group; a hawk is seated on his perch in the foreground, and one of the children holds a bow, all intimating the knight’s skill in hunting, hawking, and archery, so indispensable to an accomplished gentleman in those days.*
* Bishop Earle, speaking of the country gentleman of his
time, observes, “His housekeeping is seen much in the
different families of dogs and serving-men attendant on
their kennels; and the deepness of their throats is the
depth of his discourse. A hawk he esteems the true burden of
nobility, and is exceedingly ambitious to seem delighted
with the sport, and have his fist gloved with his jesses.”
And Gilpin, in his description of a Mr. Hastings, remarks,
“He kept all sorts of hounds that run buck, fox, hare,
otter, and badger; and had hawks of all kinds both long and
short winged. His great hall was commonly strewed with
marrow-bones, and full of hawk perches, hounds, spaniels,
and terriers. On a broad hearth, paved with brick, lay some
of the choicest terriers, hounds, and spaniels.”
I regretted to find that the ancient furniture of the hall had disappeared; for I had hoped to meet with the stately elbow-chair of carved oak in which the country squire of former days was wont to sway the sceptre of empire over his rural domains, and in which it might be presumed the redoubled Sir Thomas sat enthroned in awful state when the recreant Shakespeare was brought before him. As I like to deck out pictures for my own entertainment, I pleased myself with the idea that this very hall had been the scene of the unlucky bard’s examination on the morning after his captivity in the lodge. I fancied to myself the rural potentate surrounded by his body-guard of butler, pages, and blue-coated serving-men with their badges, while the luckless culprit was brought in, forlorn and chopfallen, in the custody of gamekeepers, huntsmen, and whippers-in, and followed by a rabble rout of country clowns. I fancied bright faces of curious housemaids peeping from the half-opened doors, while from the gallery the fair daughters of the knight leaned gracefully forward, eyeing the youthful prisoner with that pity “that dwells in womanhood.” Who would have thought that this poor varlet, thus trembling before the brief authority of a country squire, and the sport of rustic boors, was soon to become the delight of princes, the theme of all tongues and ages, the dictator to the human mind and was to confer immortality on his oppressor by a caricature and a lampoon?
