# Stories after Nature/Claudius and Gertrude; or, Love and Delicacy

CLAUDIUS AND GERTRUDE; or, Love and Delicacy.
ORMERLY, in Denmark, dwelt a lady of a most noble family, both young in years and of the rarest beauty; but above all this she had a great heart, and was as noble in mind as in birth.
While she was at the court of Britain (where she had spent some seasons with others, ladies and Danish gentlemen, after the ratifying of a friendly peace between the two kingdoms) she was wooed by many a knightly tongue; and many gallant and high-born youths contended for her favour and regard. Heaven, however, put it into her power to judge of the strength of their affections.
Being out on a party of hawking with the king, her horse threw her, and so severely in​jured her knee that she became a cripple. When they who had so anxiously inquired after her health during her illness, and had proffered so much formerly, heard this, they slackened their attentions, by degrees became cold and negligent, and when she appeared abroad again, were reserved and polite; full of pity, but out of love. Though the misfortune gave a melancholy turn to her mind, yet she felt not the coldness of any of these people (whom she never could have loved), and passed them over in silence, glad to be released from their besieging importunities. Knowing that heaven doeth as it will, she made herself easy in mind; more especially as she found the affections of those friends who really loved her, grew more delicate and tender; and that she had only lost some of the empty vanity of the world.
Soon after this, the Danes returned to their country, carrying with them some of the English nobility, to whose honour all Denmark assembled. The king ordered them to be entertained with banquets, tournaments, and revels, according to the custom of that time. And now it was that this fair lady felt the sadness of her affliction.
A noble youth, called Claudius, cousin to the prince of Denmark, returned at the same time ​from a visit of some years at the court of Poland. He was a most gallant youth, with a figure like Mars, and a leader in all warlike exercises; so that the lists were ordered for three days, in honour of his return. When they were pitched, the king and the court assembled, and the trumpets sounded to the charge.
Few persons knew the armour of Claudius, which was of massy silver scales; his beaver was up, and just as he was fixing his lance, his eyes fell upon the face of this beautiful woman. His admiration was as sudden as severe; and he became entranced, so that his heart beat violently. The knight who was opposed to him rode directly at him, and nearly unhorsed him before he was aroused; but returning to the charge, at a moment when he could have done any thing, he brought his opponent to the ground with the fury of his zeal.
Whatever his love of chivalry might be, he felt little inclined to pursue it at this time; so that he rode often past this lady, without singling out any of the champions. By his frequent passing, she observed him, and thought him the most gallant figure there, but no more.
As soon as the jousts were done, he gave his helmet to his page; and having gathered his luxuriant hair back upon his shoulders, seated ​himself at the banquet, opposite this lady, but to feast only at the beauty of her countenance. When Gertrude turned round, and saw him patiently gazing upon her face, she thought he was an angel. Farewell to all contentment! She became the slave of love. Forgetting, at that moment, her misfortune, her eyes fed at his, in a dream of luxury; though short, yet heavenly sweet. Soon, however, the remembrance of her former lovers, and of her affliction, came over her, and she looked in his face so mournfully that it chilled him, and he grew sick at heart. She wore, for that time, such a settled sorrow in her face, that his cheek got pale, and he could not look at her surcharged eyes; he dared not speak, for he feared to hear that she was married, or bound by some tie that severed them for ever. He quitted the board early; and as he went, with a slow and lingering step, he fixed his eyes upon her face. Gertrude looked after him, feeling that with him went her hope, and at her shoulder stood despair. When she had gazed a little while upon his seat, she went home; and, having shut herself up, she finished the night in weeping bitterly. She felt she loved him, and he felt that he loved her.
When the next day was come, Gertrude reasoned with herself, whether it was just to nourish ​a passion in Claudius which could not be fully answered. Her delicacy was pained in this discussion; but she determined to stay away for that day, whatever heart-ache it might cause her, as she plainly saw that he loved her, and that to encourage it would be only to give him more pain; and all day she wept and mourned over the hardness of her fate, as patient as a sacrifice.
The trumpets sounded; and when Claudius rode into the lists, and saw the seat unoccupied, and that the lady was absent, he was beset by a thousand agonizing conjectures; but still something so fatal seemed hid in her mournful look, that he dared not ask any about her. Finding the gates were shut, and that no more could enter the palace that day, he grew mad with passion at this persecution of Fate, and, fixing his arms in wrath, he made such savage havoc amongst the knights, that they dreaded his approach, and feared to tilt with him. After this, he quitted the lists suddenly.
Gertrude, wearied with the day's sorrow, slept that night well, and her spirits were refreshed; but more by her dream than any other thing, for it was full of promise and hope. At what will not the wretched grasp! Soon she heard of Claudius's fame, of his passiveness, his furious ​victory, and retire; and well her heart could interpret the cause. So fond was she in her affection, that angels could not have persuaded her to stay from the court that day. She put on her most plain attire and went. When Claudius rode in, gallant in hope, and saw his lady there, he shouted; and holding despair at bay (seeing nothing but her beauty), couched his lance, and bore down all before him. So great was his prowess that the king bade him come to him. He knelt before him; and, in the face of all present, the king took an armlet from the queen's arm, and braced it over his mail upon his wrist, and made him her champion.
He again took his seat opposite Gertrude, and besought at her eyes that he might be encouraged to speak, and so advance upon his desire; but she was more sorrowful than ever, and her countenance was so sad and mournful that it defied hope. He dreaded to speak to her, feeling his tongue to be wordless; and, fearing to ask his despair, he gazed alternately at her and the ground, in silent sorrow. She, seeing him thus pale and affected, fell into an agony; and while she railed inwardly at her own cruelty, the tears followed one another unnoticed to her breast; but he saw them, and determined to do something. He again tried ​to speak of comfort, but he could not utter a word; so, with a trembling hand, he unloosed the bracelet the king had given him, and laid ⟨it⟩ before her. She took up the token, kissed it, and put it to her heart; and, having let fall a tear upon it, shook her head mournfully, and put it from whence she had taken it; beckoning the page to come and return it to the knight. He was so overcome with her sorrow, that his eyes grew moist, and he left the hall. As soon as he was gone, again she looked upon his empty seat, and went weeping to her room.
When Claudius had thought upon this, he saw that the lady was in love with him; and, whatever mystery this might be, he was determined to face and conquer it, or suffer in the attempt; for without her he could not live. So he returned presently to the hall, determined to speak to her, but found her gone. He went to the keeper of the gate, and asked if the lady who had just gone was married? The man replied, "No;" at which the heart of Claudius expanded with joy; and he inquired further of her estate and her name. The man answered, "I suppose you mean the lady Gertrude, who went into England, and has just returned, afflicted with lameness." Claudius shifted, as if he had been hit a blow: he saw, at once, the ​hitherto inexplicable cause of her silence and sorrow, and retired perplexed and full of pain.
Notwithstanding his great love for her, so repugnant was his feeling to her misfortune that he could not master it. He went up and down distracted; flying from the noise of the city to the quiet of the forest, and from the quiet of the forest back to the city.
Gertrude went home and fell sick. Knowing that Claudius must have inquired for her and found the truth, and guessing his feelings by his absence, she besought Heaven to die. On the seventh day, when excessive grief had worn her heart and spirits nearly to breaking, and the leeches had reported that her dissolution was at hand, she desired one to copy from her words as follows:—
"My dear Claudius;
"Though I could not live for you, I can die for you. I thank Heaven that the tongues about me utter my knell: I am descending into the pit. I must first beg pardon for the pain that I have caused you, though it no longer exists, as is manifest by your indifference; yet, as I die your loyal servant, sprinkle a few flowers on my grave, in remembrance.
"Gertrude."
​When Claudius read this, he smote his brow for a fool. All his love returned as new as fire; and, when he thought upon her great delicacy through this affair, he wondered, and was ashamed. He took horse, and flew to her house; but they denied him entrance, saying their lady was dying: but, by threats and protestations, he gained the lady's chamber. Her beauty was greater than ever, though fading; it touched the heart. On seeing him, the same melancholy look returned, that had so pained him before; but, recovering herself, she, with a low, yet cheerful voice, thanked him, as one who had long known him, and put forth her hand kindly and familiarly. He, seeing death in her countenance, fell upon his knees, and hiding his face in her pillow, wept bitterly; and when he looked upon her, she was also weeping. He told her of his want of feeling, and of his penitence for his neglect; kissed her, and said he hoped she would recover and marry him. This unexpected declaration so acted upon her feelings that it caused her to faint. He raised her head, and laid it on his bosom; and presently reviving, she said, "As love for you has made me thus suddenly weak, and miserable, and dying, I do think, by the new life and joy I feel within me, that to be thy wife would re​cover me. But can you love me with my failing and misfortune of lameness? Restore not animation, to make us both miserable." He answered, eagerly, "Yes, yes!" and kissed her. "Then," said she, "rejoice; for, if you could love me under my misfortune, how will you love me out of it? I am no longer lame; my severe illness has relaxed the contracted sinews, and I am as whole as when a child!" Shame was in his face; but she kissed it into joy, and they parted.
She soon recovered, and they were married; and Gertrude at length received the reward of her great delicacy of mind.