CHAPTER XII
----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._
The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, anew institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as thefirst-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day.It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and goodassurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dinedtogether at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presidedas master of the ceremonies.
Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest deBeaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished fromhis own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in whichhe had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsmanin the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported bya feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, notmuch the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court,and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which itwas computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person.But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many whothought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his presentsituation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inchabove it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for LordDalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeuwith a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd ofmore ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, muchreal deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced bythese circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limitsof his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to bedisagreeably driven back into them.
When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had beenbut of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court,who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of thatprincess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which itafforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Featherswaved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and atfirst sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium,who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of thefirst quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Severalindividuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their easein the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might besupposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there wereothers, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferiorto that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed moreclosely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours todisguise poverty.
Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entranceof Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among thecompany, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stoodforward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rankhastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catchsome point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practisedupon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion.
The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcomethis prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shufflingforward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express hishappiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.--"I hope you do bring back thesun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from yourpauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe youtake them away in your pockets."
"That must have been because you left me nothing else in them,Chevalier," answered Lord Dalgarno; "but Monsieur le Chevalier, I prayyou to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch!"
"Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois unMilor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milorapparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieurde la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque atL'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoupde revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the prettygirls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory--"
"Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch," said LordDalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceivedthat the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likelyto be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by thefather, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as theChevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary,strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour.
"You have the reason, milor," answered the Chevalier, "you have theright--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the timepassed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the timepresent is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories andarmorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, andthe soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately."
So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants inmotion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observinghis young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach--"Why,what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that?"
"I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes," said Lord Glenvarloch;"but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father'sname--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to himof having left it with emptied pockets."
"Pshaw, man!" said Lord Dalgarno, "I spoke but according to the trick ofthe time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he wouldbe held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we willsee whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than hisconversation."
Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated inthe most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attendedto by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to theother guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation.The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery whichthe French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men ofEngland, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons oftaste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of thefirst quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance.The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively,and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxietyand misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raisedand animated.
Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and toadvantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discoveringit; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objectionthat the company should be amused with their folly instead of theirwit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in theconversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged tothe period, or the jargon which often passes current for it.
In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel'srigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, andhe listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier deBeaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the "curieuxand Futile," chose to address to him in particular, on the subject ofcookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, whichhe somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out incommendation of the great artists of former days, particularly onewhom he had known in his youth, "Maitre de Cuisine to the MarechalStrozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant;" who had maintained his master'stable with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockadeof le petit Leyth, although he ha
d nothing better to place on it thanthe quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weedsthat grew on the ramparts. "Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe!" Withone tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twentyguests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens;but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call thesurrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made outof the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that theEnglish and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dinewith Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil anyof them were made upon at all.
The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had suchgenial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table,who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit,or that of the ordinary, to make innovations.
"You speak of the siege of Leith," said a tall, raw-boned man, withthick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, along rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, whichlives by killing other people--"you talk of the siege of Leith, and Ihave seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall,or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Udsdaggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-fourhours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the placeand all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would havedeserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his nooseis reeved."
"Saar," said the Chevalier, "Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not atthe siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about thecockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understoodthe grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is moregreat, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who dospeak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous!"
"O Monsieur." answered the swordsman, "we know the Frenchman will fightwell behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast,and pot."
"Pot!" exclaimed the Chevalier, "what do you mean by pot--do you mean toinsult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvregentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry,and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did alwayscharge in our shirt."
"Which refutes another base scandal," said Lord Dalgarno, laughing,"alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms."
"Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord," said thecaptain, from the bottom of the table. "Craving your lordship's pardon,I do know something of these same gens-d'armes."
"We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modestyat the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge wasacquired," answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously.
"I need not speak of it, my lord," said the man of war; "the world knowsit--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens ofLondon, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, erethey would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O,if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near thatcuckoo's nest of theirs!"
"A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London!" said a gallantwho sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendidand fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it--"I will notbrook to hear that repeated."
"What!" said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair ofbroad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, andtwirling with the other his huge mustaches; "will you quarrel for yourcity?"
"Ay, marry will I," replied the other. "I am a citizen, I care not whoknows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is anass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him senseand manners."
The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing thecaptain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, weremuch entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up bythe indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, "Well run,Bow-bell!"--"Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's!"--"Sound a chargethere, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when heshould advance."
"You mistake me, gentlemen," said the captain, looking round with anair of dignity. "I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen isof rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for,conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myselfwithout loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from mehonourably, by way of cartel."
"You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel," said thecitizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in acorner. "Follow me."
"It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules ofthe sword," said the captain; "and I do nominate the Maze, inTothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferentjudges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, atdaybreak."
"And I," said the citizen, "do nominate the bowling-alley behind thehouse for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for timethe present moment."
So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across theshoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captainshowed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by thelaugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did hewould do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with theair of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat,where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his swordunsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted withthe approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked thebowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigelcould not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to preventmischief.
"It would be a crime against the public interest," answered his friend;"there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will notbe a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier'sestablishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain'sbuff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught;and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of thatfilthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en hisground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the verymodel of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, andbrandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambricwith it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant himopposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo,the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over hisshoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold thevaliant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civichelmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is therarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram."
It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, whoseemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the manof war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much goodfortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressingon, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of hisantagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground.A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed inastonishment at his own feat, "Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly bythe back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to theBankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables." Andthe conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fledaccordingly, with all speed.
"By Heaven," said Lord Dalgarno, "I could never have believed thatthe fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly beenarrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, theyare raising him."
Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two ofthe guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open hiswaistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere e
xisted, the man of warcollected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary wasno longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels asfast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company.
"By my honour," said Lord Dalgarno, "he takes the same course with hisconqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiantcitizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain."
"Despardieux, milor," said the Chevalier, "if he had stayed one moment,he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to himfor a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron."
"In the meanwhile," said Lord Dalgarno, "you will oblige us, Monsieur leChevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by lettingyour drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he shouldventure to come way again."
"Ventre saint gris, milor," said the Chevalier, "leave that tome.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron!"
When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, theparty began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possessionof the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its properuse of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of thegame, as "run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber!"thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in abowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of thegentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed atOmbre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion;while the dice were used at various games, both with and without thetables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however,did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted withgreat decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead theyoung Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, thatthe place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that therecreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles.
Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in theamusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarkingthe luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to availthemselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and mostrespectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modernphrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered thatBurbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, thatafternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, likeLord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to thatexhibition; "unless, indeed," he added, in a whisper, "there is paternalinterdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary."
"I never heard my father speak of stage-plays," said Lord Glenvarloch,"for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, ifwhat I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether hewould have approved of them."
"Approved of them!" exclaimed Lord Dalgarno--"why, George Buchanan wrotetragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to seethem, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men inEngland write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort tothe playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which willcarry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest ourvenison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let'sto horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune."
Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the youngmen mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon ahigh-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards thetheatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion ofthe company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptionswhich he might suppose him to have taken. "And wherefore lookest thousad," he said, "my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater ofLow-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living worldwhich we have turned over in company, less fairly written than thouhadst been taught to expect? Be comforted, and pass over one little blotor two; thou wilt be doomed to read through many a page, as black asInfamy, with her sooty pinion, can make them. Remember, most immaculateNigel, that we are in London, not Leyden--that we are studying life, notlore. Stand buff against the reproach of thine over-tender conscience,man, and when thou summest up, like a good arithmetician, the actionsof the day, before you balance the account on your pillow, tell theaccusing spirit, to his brimstone beard, that if thine ears have heardthe clatter of the devil's bones, thy hand hath not trowled them--thatif thine eye hath seen the brawling of two angry boys, thy blade hathnot been bared in their fray."
"Now, all this may be wise and witty," replied Nigel; "yet I own Icannot think but that your lordship, and other men of good qualitywith whom we dined, might have chosen a place of meeting free from theintrusion of bullies, and a better master of your ceremonial than yonderforeign adventurer."
"All shall be amended, Sancte Nigelle, when thou shalt come forth anew Peter the Hermit, to preach a crusade against dicing, drabbing, andcompany-keeping. We will meet for dinner in Saint Sepulchre's Church;we will dine in the chancel, drink our flask in the vestry, the parsonshall draw every cork, and the clerk say amen to every health. Come man,cheer up, and get rid of this sour and unsocial humour. Credit me, thatthe Puritans who object to us the follies and the frailties incident tohuman nature, have themselves the vices of absolute devils, privy maliceand backbiting hypocrisy, and spiritual pride in all its presumption.There is much, too, in life which we must see, were it only to learn toshun it. Will Shakespeare, who lives after death, and who is presentlyto afford thee such pleasure as none but himself can confer, hasdescribed the gallant Falconbridge as calling that man
----' a bastard to the time, That doth not smack of observation; Which, though I will not practise to deceive, Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn."
But here we are at the door of the Fortune, where we shall havematchless Will speaking for himself.--Goblin, and you other lout, leavethe horses to the grooms, and make way for us through the press."
They dismounted, and the assiduous efforts of Lutin, elbowing, bullying,and proclaiming his master's name and title, made way through a crowd ofmurmuring citizens, and clamorous apprentices, to the door, where LordDalgarno speedily procured a brace of stools upon the stage for hiscompanion and himself, where, seated among other gallants of the sameclass, they had an opportunity of displaying their fair dressesand fashionable manners, while they criticised the piece during itsprogress; thus forming, at the same time, a conspicuous part of thespectacle, and an important proportion of the audience.
Nigel Olifaunt was too eagerly and deeply absorbed in the interest ofthe scene, to be capable of playing his part as became the placewhere he was seated. He felt all the magic of that sorcerer, who haddisplayed, within the paltry circle of a wooden booth, the long wars ofYork and Lancaster, compelling the heroes of either line to stalk acrossthe scene in language and fashion as they lived, as if the grave hadgiven up the dead for the amusement and instruction of the living.Burbage, esteemed the best Richard until Garrick arose, played thetyrant and usurper with such truth and liveliness, that when the Battleof Bosworth seemed concluded by his death, the ideas of reality anddeception were strongly contending in Lord Glenvarloch's imagination,and it required him to rouse himself from his reverie, so strange didthe proposal at first sound when his companion declared King Richardshould sup with them at the Mermaid.
They were joined, at the same time, by a small party of the gentlemenwith whom they had dined, which they recruited by inviting two or threeof the most accomplished wits and poets, who seldom failed to attendthe Fortune Theatre, and were even but too ready to conclude a day ofamusement with a night of pleasure. Thither the whole party adjourned,and betwixt fertile cups of sack, excited spirits, and the emulous witof their lively companions, seemed to realise the joyous boast of one ofBen Jonson's contemporaries, when reminding the bard of
"Those
lyric feasts, Where men such clusters had, As made them nobly wild, not mad; While yet each verse of thine Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine."