The Passionate Elopement
_Now God Bless the King, Peers, Parliament Men,
And keep 'em like us in true concord;
And grant that all those, who dare be his foes,
At Tyburn may swing in a strong cord;
We'll Loyalists be, and bravely agree
With lives and estates to defend her--him
So then we'll not care come Peace or come War
For Lewis, the Pope, or Pretender._
"Ah!" said Mr. Antony Clare whose father had been a Jacobite, "you've
spoilt more than the rhyme by the last word."
This treasonable remark was the signal for more noise than ever because
all the young gentlemen of the _Blue Boar_ who held His Majesty King
George's commission felt bound to uphold the honour of the Royal Navy
and the British Army by flinging a large number of Spanish nuts at the
head of the disloyal Clare who retorted by emptying a whole ram's horn
of snuff over Mr. Golightly so that for a while nothing was to be heard
but vollies of gigantick sneezes. Exhaustion reigned for a moment, but
presently the sound of hustling and bustling in the street outside
roused everybody to fresh vigour of mischief.
My Lady Bunbutter's rout was over, and those of the Exquisite Mob who
had been invited were standing on tiptoe on the steps of Daish's Rooms
peering into the darkness and blinking in the glare of waving flambeaux.
The chairmen were so busy quarrelling over their positions that they
paid no attention to their fares and everything was in a very great
state of confusion indeed; nor was the clamour abated by Mr. Lovely
cleverly hitting the long red ear of the nearest chairmen with a
Barcelona nut because the injured chairman instantly floored a linkboy
who was standing by his side and the linkboy's torch severely burnt the
legs of Lord Cinderton's tall footman in his ash-grey livery and the
tall footman with a yell of dismay punched a flat-footed waiter on the
nose and the flat-footed waiter butted an inoffensive fop in the middle
of his sprigged silk waistcoat and the inoffensive fop struck out with
his tasselled cane left and right with such force that presently
everybody in the street below was fighting with his next door neighbour
to the entire delight of the young gentlemen from the _Blue Boar_. Their
next diversion was to empty the dregs of the Burgundy bottles upon the
heads of the crowd, whereupon all the ladies of Curtain Wells screamed
very loud to see such a number of bloody polls and faces.
Then Charles snatched off little Peter Wingfield's tie-wig and, having
set fire to it, began to drop tufts of burning hair out of the window,
which tufts made an immense smell and blew round and round in the gusty
March air in a very alarming manner.
Little Peter Wingfield, having lost his own wig and being too little to
snatch Lovely's wig, mounted one of the stout Windsor wheelback chairs
and, taking down the print of a famous cock-fight extracted the hook
from the wall and laid an embargo on the black silk ties of three of his
friends in order to fish from the window for another wig. He succeeded
in catching the Marquis of Hurricane's to the intense delight of his
undutiful sons the Earl of Squall and Lord Augustus Wind. Of course
after such a successful display of angling, everybody else had to try
his hand with the picture hook and two more wigs were captured but
proved so frowsy that they were burnt immediately. However, Mr. Chalkley
caught the hem of Lady Jane Vane's petticoat just as she was stepping
into her chair and would without doubt have injured that virgin's modest
reputation for ever, had the garment been made of more durable stuff; as
it was, the hook would not hold and nothing was disclosed beyond what is
allowed by any wet day.
Then Mr. Daish came hurrying in and begged their honours to desist
because the watch was coming, and what Mr. Ripple would say when he
heard of the riot he did not dare surmize.
Poor Mr. Daish bowed and scraped and was so full of excuses that all the
young gentlemen felt quite sorry for him and put ham seat foremost into
the biggest bowl of punch in order to drown his troubles, whereupon Mr.
Daish grew quite cholerick and vowed he would never let one of 'em enter
his inn again and made such ado that the culprits all protested he was
more noisy than anybody else, and offered to fetch in the watch and have
him arrested in his own bowl of punch.
But presently they lifted him out and subscribed ten guineas by sending
round Mr. Golightly's hat; and poor Mr. Daish was more full of excuses
than ever and hoped that anything he had said that could by the most
spirited gentleman be considered derogatory would be forgiven and
ascribed to the dismay caused by the hot punch scalding his hinder parts
and goading him beyond the bounds of polite remonstrance.
Everybody vowed that withered little Daish was a prince of good fellows
and begged him to buy himself a new pair of cinnamon cloth breeches as
soon as possible, while Thomas Chalkley of the Foot created much
amusement by shouting that he was holding Dunquerque against the French.
In order to hold Dunquerque against the French, it was very necessary
that Mr. Chalkley should fling out of the window nineteen quart-bottles
of Burgundy in quick succession, whereupon Lieutenant Blewforth of the
_Lively_ not to be outdone vowed Portobello must be taken and proceeded
to take it by climbing with amazing dexterity on to the mantelpiece
armed only with a long Churchwarden's pipe. Yet notwithstanding all the
efforts of Ensign Chalkley to hold Dunquerque against the French,
notwithstanding that he was valiantly assisted by Cornet Golightly of
the Grey Dragoons, who led a desperate cavalry charge round the whole
room mounted upon one of the stout Windsor chairs, Dunquerque
capitulated. In other words the dignified Curtain Wells watch marched
upstairs with their lanterns and their staves and, standing in a knot by
the doorway, demanded the reason for such a riotous breach of the King's
peace, not to mention Mr. Ripple's and the Mayor's. But the young
gentlemen were all so merry and the watch was so cold that it consented
to taste the punch and presently left Dunquerque in the hands of the
Allies and marched off warmer in mind and body to a quieter quarter of
the ancient borough of Curtain Wells. I am sorry to add that, in passing
the door of the Great House, they so far forgot their standing orders as
to cry with enormous fervour the hour and the weather exactly underneath
Mr. Ripple's window.
With the departure of the watch, peace fell upon the company for a
while; a dice box was produced and some packs of cards, but play lasted
a very short time and was voted too confoundedly dull for so joyful an
evening. So more songs were sung, and it was exceedingly pleasant to
hear these young gentlemen shouting the refrains and hammering Encores
upon the polished mahogany table. It was exceedingly pleasant to see the
wigs on their knees and the long clay pipes keeping time to the tune;
but perhaps the pleasantest sight of all was the two sleepy waiters who
leaned against the jambs of the door and, with kindly grins on their
tired faces, tapped their flat feet to the more alluring measures.
The night was wearing away when somebody called 'Vernon for a song!'
The latter, to tell the truth, had felt out of his element, except
during the brief interval of play, but on being called upon to occupy
the centre of the room, he cheered up and announced his very great
pleasure in acceding to the gentlemen's request.
I wonder if you are at all sorry for Mr. Vernon.
He was very lonely sitting in his high armchair at the head of the
table. I wonder if you will forgive him for singing this song, which you
will find in Mr. D'Urfey's _Pills to Purge Melancholy_.
_In the merry month of May,
On a morn by break of day,
Forth I walked the wood so wide,
When as May was in her Pride
Here I spy'd all alone, all alone,
Phyllida and Coridon._
_Much ado there was God wot,
He did love, but she could not,
He said his love was to woo,
He said none was false to you;
He said he had lov'd her long,
He said love should take no wrong._
_Coridon would have kissed her then,
She said Maids must kiss no men
Till they kiss for good and all;
Then she bade the shepherds call
All the Gods to witness truth,
Ne'er was loved so fair a youth._
_Then with many a pretty oath,
As Yea and Nay and Faith and Troth,
Such as silly shepherds use,
When they would not love abuse;
Love which had been long deluded
Was with kisses sweet concluded._
_And Phyllida with garlands gay
Was crowned the Lady May._
The words were poor, as you will allow, and the tune a mere tinkle, but
it had the effect of rousing our hero from the half-sleep into which he
had fallen.
"Sing that song again, will you."
"G---- forbid," whispered little Peter Wingfield.
"Nay, sir," said Mr. Vernon, "'Tis too long to sing over again, but I'll
toast the heroine if that will please your zest."
"No, sir," said Charles, "it will not please me at all."
The rest of the company began to wake up to the fact that something was
happening.
"I should have thought," Vernon replied, "that Mr. Lovely would have
cordially welcomed such a toast, for we all know his partiality to the
name."
"Gentlemen," said our hero. Did I not promise you some pretty heroicks a
score of pages back? "Gentlemen, I have a tale to tell you."
Charles looked very stiff and very fierce as, clapping on his wig, he
began:
"A short while ago I perpetrated an indiscretion in mistaking Mr.
Francis Vernon for a gentleman, for which I beg the pardon of everybody
present. Mr. Vernon for some reason best known to himself saw fit to
bribe my bookseller to insert in a volume I have just published twelve
scurrilous lines reflecting upon the character of a young lady whom
I--whom I----"
"Admire," suggested our villain.
"No, sir, respect."
"Sir, your virtue should make us all blush," sneered Vernon, cold and
contemptuous.
"D---- n you and your blushes; blush deeper, then," shouted Charles,
slinging the contents of a wineglass into Mr. Vernon's pallid face.
There was silence for a moment until the honourable Mr. Harthe-Brusshe
proclaimed----
"The affair should be settled at once."
And this was the only remark that the Honourable gentleman uttered in
the whole of the evening.
"With all my heart," cried Charles. "Tony, you'll act for me?"
Mr. Vernon had delicately wiped his face with a handkerchief of Mechlin
lace. A single drop of the wine lingered above his left cheekbone.
There, it was not unbecoming.
"I shall be proud to walk with Mr. Lovely in a month's time," said our
villain, "but for the present my honour is pledged to a lady."
"Sure, you borrow on mighty small security, sir," said Charles.
The lingering drop of wine that stained Mr. Vernon's cheek seemed to
expand for a brief moment.
"I have named my day," was all he answered.
"Mr. Vernon is within his rights, Charles," said Mr. Golightly, "and
moreover the weather will be finer next month and we can make up a
jovial party."
"'Tis hardly fair to poor Daish to fight in his rooms," said Blewforth.
"Ripple would put his shutters up at once."
"H---- take you all," cried Charles, in an access of fury, as he sprang
to strike Vernon.
The latter stepped back and with a well-aimed blow sent Charles flying
backwards over two chairs.
"'Slife, Charles," said Mr. Golightly very stiffly. "Your conduct is
d----d irregular, Sir."
"Most improper," said Mr. Chalkley.
"Devilish unrestrained," said little Peter Wingfield.
"Charles was two bottles ahead of us, gentlemen," said Blewforth who
held a broad mind in a broad body.