‘Mr. Sarcastic,’ said Anthelia, ‘you do not render justice to the feelings of the company; nor is human nature so selfish and perverted as you seem to consider it. Though there are undoubtedly many who sacrifice the general happiness of humankind to their own selfish gratification, yet even these, I am willing to believe, err not in cruelty but in ignorance, from not seeing the consequences of their own actions; but it is not by persuading them that all the world is as bad as themselves, that you will give them clearer views and better feelings. Many are the modes of evil — many the scenes of human suffering; but if the general condition of man is ever to be ameliorated, it can only be through the medium of BELIEF IN HUMAN VIRTUE.’
‘Well, Forester,’ said Sir Telegraph, ‘if you wish to increase the numbers of the Anti-saccharine Society, set me down for one.’
‘Remember,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘by enrolling your name among us you pledge yourself to perpetual abstinence from West Indian produce.’
‘I am aware of it,’ said Sir Telegraph, ‘and you shall find me zealous in the cause.’
The fat Alderman cried out about the ruin of commerce, and Mr. Vamp was very hot on the subject of the revenue.
The question was warmly canvassed, and many of the party who had not been quite persuaded by what Mr. Forester had said in behalf of the anti-saccharine system, were perfectly convinced in its favour when they had heard what Mr. Vamp and the fat Alderman had to say against it; and the consequence was, that, in spite of Mr. Sarcastic’s opinion of the general selfishness of mankind, the numbers of the Antisaccharine Society were very considerably augmented.
‘You see,’ said Mr. Fax to Mr. Sarcastic, ‘the efficacy of associated sympathies. It is but to give an impulse of cooperation to any good and generous feeling, and its progressive accumulation, like that of an Alpine avalanche, though but a snowball at the summit, becomes a mountain in the valley.’
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE CHESS DANCE
THE DINNER WAS followed by a ball, for the opening of which Sir Telegraph Paxarett, who officiated as master of the ceremonies, had devised a fanciful scheme, and had procured for the purpose a number of appropriate masquerade dresses. An extensive area in the middle of the ballroom was chalked out into sixty-four squares of alternate white and red, in lines of eight squares each. Sir Telegraph, while the rest of the company was sipping, not without many wry faces, their antisaccharine tea, called out into another apartment the gentlemen whom he had fixed on to perform in his little ballet; and Miss Evergreen at the same time withdrew with the intended female performers. Sir Telegraph now invested Mr. Hippy with the dignity of White King, Major O’Dogskin with that of Black King, and the Reverend Mr. Portpipe with that of White Bishop, which the latter hailed as a favourable omen, not precisely comprehending what was going forward. As the reverend gentleman was the only one of his cloth in the company, Sir Telegraph was under the necessity of appointing three lay Bishops, whom he fixed on in the persons of two country squires, Mr. Hermitage and Mr. Heeltap, and of the fat Alderman already mentioned, Sir Gregory Greenmould. Sir Telegraph himself, Mr. O’Scarum, Mr. Derrydown, and Mr. Sarcastic, were the Knights: and the Rooks were Mr. Feathernest the poet; Mr. Paperstamp, another variety of the same genus, chiefly remarkable for an affected infantine lisp in his speech, and for always wearing waistcoats of a duffel gray; Mr. Vamp the reviewer; and Mr. Killthedead, from Frogmarsh Hall, a great compounder of narcotics, under the denomination of BATTLES, for he never heard of a deadly field, especially if dotage and superstition, to which he was very partial, gained the advantage over generosity and talent, both of which he abhorred, but immediately seizing his goosequill and foolscap, He fought the BATTLE o’er again, And twice he slew the slain.
Mr. Feathernest was a little nettled on being told that he was to be the King’s Rook, but smoothed his wrinkled brow on being assured that no mauvaise plaisanterie was intended.
The Kings were accordingly crowned, and attired in regal robes. The Reverend Mr. Portpipe and his three brother Bishops were arrayed in full canonicals. The Knights were equipped in their white and black armour, with sword, and dazzling helm, and nodding crest. The Rooks were enveloped in a sort of mural robe, with a headpiece formed on the model of that which occurs in the ancient figures of Cybele; and thus attired they bore a very striking resemblance to the walking wall in Pyramus and Thisbe.
The Kings now led the way to the ballroom, and the two beautiful Queens, Miss Danaretta Contantina Pinmoney and Miss Celandina Paperstamp, each with eight beautiful nymphs, arrayed for the mimic field in light Amazonian dresses, white and black, did such instant execution among the hearts of the young gentlemen present, that they might be said to have ‘fought and conquered ere a sword was drawn.’
They now proceeded to their stations on their respective squares: but before we describe their manœuvres we will recapitulate the
TRIPUDII PERSONAE
WHITE
King. . . MR. HIPPY.
Queen — . . Miss DANARETTA CONTANTINA PINMONEY.
King’s Bishop. THE REVEREND MR. PORTPIPE.
Queen’s Bishop. SIR GREGORY GREENMOULD.
Ring’s Knight. MR. O’SCARUM.
Queen’s Knight. SIR TELEGRAPH PAXARETT.
King’s Rook. MR. FEATHERNEST.
Queens Rook. MR. PAPERSTAMP.
Eight Nymphs.
BLACK
King. . . MAJOR O’DOGSKIN.
Queen. . Miss CELANDINA PAPERSTAMP.
King’s Bishop. SQUIRE HERMITAGE.
Queen’s Bishop. SQUIRE HEELTAP.
King’s Knight. MR. SARCASTIC.
Queen’s Knight. MR. DERRYDOWN.
King’s Rook. MR. KILLTHEDEAD.
Queen’s Rook. MR. VAMP.
Eight Nymphs.
Mr. Hippy took his station on a black square, near the centre of one of the extreme lines, and Major O’Dogskin on an opposite white square of the parallel extreme. The Queens, who were to command in chief, stood on the left of the Kings: the Bishops were posted to the right and left of their respective sovereigns; the Knights next to the Bishops; the corners were occupied by the Rooks. The two lines in front of these principal personages were occupied by the Nymphs; — a space of four lines of eight squares each being left between the opposite parties for the field of action.
The array was now complete, with the exception of the Reverend Mr. Portpipe, who being called by Miss Danaretta to take his place at the right hand of Mr. Hippy, and perceiving that he should be necessitated, in his character of Bishop, to take a very active part in the diversion, began to exclaim with great vehemence, NOLO EPISCOPARI! which is probably the only occasion on which these words were ever used with sincerity. But Mr. O’Scarum, in his capacity of White Knight, pounced on the reluctant divine, and placing him between himself and Mr. Hippy, stood by him with his sword drawn, as if to prevent his escape; then clapping a sword into the hand of the reverend gentleman, exhorted him to conduct himself in a manner becoming an efficient member of the true church militant.
Lots were then cast for the privilege of attack; and the chance falling on Miss Danaretta, the music struck up the tune of The Triumph, and the whole of the white party began dancing, with their faces towards the King, performing at the same time various manoeuvres of the sword exercise, with appropriate pantomimic gestures, expressive of their entire devotion to His Majesty’s service, and their desire to be immediately sent forward on active duty. In vain did the Reverend Mr. Portpipe remonstrate with Mr. O’Scarum that his dancing days were over: the inexorable Knight compelled him to caper and flourish his sword, ‘till the toil-drops fell from his brows like rain.’ Sir Gregory Greenmould did his best on the occasion, and danced like an elephant in black drapery; but Miss Danaretta and her eight lovely Nymphs rescued the exertions of the male performers from too critical observation. King Hippy received the proffered service of his army with truly royal condescension. Miss Danaretta waved her sword with inimitable grace, and made a s
ign to the damsel in front of the King to advance two squares. The same manœuvres now took place on the black side; and Miss Celandina sent forward the Nymph in front of Major O’Dogskin to obstruct the further progress of the white damsel. The dancing now recommenced on the white side, and Miss Danaretta ordered out the Reverend Mr. Portpipe to occupy the fourth square in front of Squire Heeltap. The reverend gentleman rolled forward with great alacrity, in the secret hope that he should very soon be taken prisoner, and put hors de combat for the rest of the evening. Squire Hermitage was detached by Miss Celandina on a similar service; and these two episcopal heroes being thus brought together in the centre of the field, entered, like Glaucus and Diomede, into a friendly parle, in the course of which the words Claret and Burgundy were repeatedly overheard. The music frequently varied as in a pantomime, according to circumstances: the manœuvres were always directed by the waving of the sword of the Queen, and were always preceded by the dancing of the whole party, in the manner we have mentioned, which continued ad libitum, till she had decided on her movement. The Nymph in front of Sir Gregory Greenmould advanced one square. Mr. Sarcastic stepped forward to the third square of Squire Hermitage. Miss Danaretta’s Nymph advanced two squares, and being immediately taken prisoner by the Nymph of Major O’Dogskin, conceded her place with a graceful bow, and retired from the field. The Nymph in front of Sir Gregory Greenmould avenged the fate of her companion; and Mr. Hippy’s Nymph withdrew in a similar manner. Squire Hermitage was compelled to cut short his conversation with Mr. Portpipe, and retire to the third square in front of Mr. Derrydown. Sir Telegraph skipped into the place which Sir Gregory Greenmould’s Nymph had last forsaken. Mr. Killthedead danced into the deserted quarters of Squire Hermitage, and Major O’Dogskin swept round him with a minuet step into those of Mr. Sarcastic. To carry on the detail would require more time than we can spare, and, perhaps, more patience than our readers possess. The Reverend Mr. Portpipe saw his party fall around him, one by one, and survived against his will to the close of the contest. Miss Danaretta and Miss Celandina moved like light over the squares, and Fortune alternately smiled and frowned on their respective banners, till the heavy mural artillery of Mr. Vamp being brought to bear on Mr. Paperstamp, who fancied himself a tower of strength, the latter was overthrown and carried off the field. Mr. Feathemest avenged his fate on the embattled front of Mr. Killthedead, and fell himself beneath the sword of Mr. Sarcastic. Squire Heeltap was taken off by the Reverend Mr. Portpipe, who begged his courteous prisoner to walk to the sideboard and bring him a glass of Madeira; for Homer, he said, was very orthodox in his opinion that wine was a great refresher in the toils of war.
The changeful scene concluded by Miss Danaretta, with the aid of Sir Telegraph and the Reverend Mr. Portpipe, hemming Major O’Dogskin into a corner, where he was reduced to an incapacity of locomotion; on which the Major bowed and made the best of his way to the sideboard, followed by the reverend gentleman, who, after joining the Major in a pacific libation, threw himself into an arm-chair, and slept very comfortably till the annunciation of supper.
Waltzes, quadrilles, and country dances followed in succession, and, with the exception of the interval of supper, in which Miss Evergreen developed all the treasures of anti-saccharine taste, were kept up with great spirit till the rising of the sun.
Anthelia, who of course did not join in the former, expressed to Mr. Forester her astonishment to see waltzing in Redrose Abbey. ‘I did not dream of such a thing,’ said Mr. Forester; ‘but I left the whole arrangement of the ball to Sir Telegraph, and I suppose he deemed it incumbent on him to consult the general taste of the young ladies. Even I, young as I am, can remember the time when there was no point of resemblance between an English girl in a private ballroom and a French figurante in a theatrical ballet; but waltzing and Parisian drapery have levelled the distinction, and the only criterion of the difference is the place of the exhibition. Thus every succeeding year witnesses some new inroad on the simple manners of our ancestors; some importation of continental vice and folly; some unnatural fretwork of tinsel and frippery on the old Doric column of the domestic virtues of England. An Englishman in stays, and an Englishwoman waltzing in treble-flounced short petticoats, are anomalies so monstrous, that till they actually existed, they never entered the most ominous visions of the speculators on progressive degeneracy. What would our Alfred, what would our third Edward, what would our Milton, and Hampden, and Sidney, what would the barons of Runnymead have thought, if the voice of prophecy had denounced to them a period, when the perfection of accomplishment in the daughters of England would be found in the dress, manner, and action of the dancing girls of Paris ?’The supper, of course, did not pass off without songs; and among them Anthelia sang the following, which recalled to Mr. Forester their conversation on the sea-shore.
THE MORNING OF LOVE
O the spring-time of life is the season of blooming,
And the morning of love is the season of joy;
Ere noontide and summer, with radiance consuming,
Look down on their beauty, to parch and destroy.
O faint are the blossoms life’s pathway adorning,
When the first magic glory of hope is withdrawn;
For the flowers of the spring, and the light of the morning,
Have no summer budding, and no second dawn.
Through meadows all sunshine, and verdure, and flowers,
The stream of the valley in purity flies;
But mix’d with the tides, where some proud city lowers,
O where is the sweetness that dwelt on its rise?
The rose withers fast on the breast it first graces;
Its beauty is fled ere the day be half done: —
And life is that stream which its progress defaces,
And love is that flower which can bloom but for one.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE DISAPPEARANCE
THE MORNING AFTER the fête Anthelia and her party returned to Melincourt. Before they departed she conversed a few minutes alone with Mr. Forester in his library. What was said on this occasion we cannot precisely report; but it seemed to be generally suspected that Mr. Hippy’s authority would soon be at an end, and that the services of the Reverend Mr. Portpipe would be required in the old chapel of Melincourt Castle, which, we are sorry to say, had fallen for some years past very much into disuse, being never opened but on occasions of birth, marriage, and death in the family; and these occasions, as our readers are aware, had not of late been very numerous.
The course of mutual love between Anthelia and Mr. Forester was as smooth as the gliding of a skiff down a stream, through the flowery meadows of June: and if matters were not quite definitely settled between them, yet, as Mr. Forester was shortly to be a visitor at the Castle, there was a very apparent probability that their intercourse would terminate in that grand climax and finale of all romantic adventure — marriage.
After the departure of the ladies, Mr. Forester observed with concern that his friend Sir Oran’s natural melancholy was visibly increased, and Mr. Fax was of opinion that he was smitten with the tender passion: but whether for Miss Melincourt, Mrs. Pinmoney, or Miss Danaretta, it was not so easy to determine. But Sir Oran grew more and more fond of solitude, and passed the greater part of the day in the woods, though it was now the reign of the gloomy November, which, however, accorded with the moody temper of his spirit; and he often went without his breakfast, though he always came home to dinner. His perpetual companion was his flute, with which he made sad response to the wintry wind.
Mr. Forester and Mr. Fax were one morning consulting on the means to be adopted for diverting Sir Oran’s melancholy, when Sir Telegraph Paxarett drove up furiously to the door — sprang from the box — and rushed into the apartment with the intelligence that Anthelia had disappeared. No one had seen her since the hour of breakfast on the preceding day. Mr. Hippy, Mr. Derrydown, Mr. O’Scarum, and Major O’Dogskin were scouring the country in all directions in sear
ch of her.
Mr. Forester determined not to rest night or day till he had discovered Anthelia. Sir Telegraph drove him, with Mr. Fax and Sir Oran, to the nearest inn, where leaving Sir Telegraph to pursue another track, they took a chaise-and-four, and posted over the country in all directions, day after day, without finding any clue to her retreat. Mr. Forester had no doubt that this adventure was connected with that which we have detailed in the eighteenth chapter; but his ignorance of the actors on that occasion prevented his deriving any light from the coincidence. At length, having investigated in vain all the main and cross roads for fifty miles round Melincourt, Mr. Fax was of opinion that she could not have passed so far along any of them, being conveyed, as no doubt she was, against her will, without leaving some trace of her course, which their indefatigable inquiries must have discovered. He therefore advised that they should discontinue their system of posting, and take a thorough pedestrian perlustration of all the most bye and unfrequented paths of the whole mountain district, in some secluded part of which he had a strong presentiment she would be found. This plan was adopted; but the season was unfavourable to its expeditious accomplishment; and they could sometimes make but little progress in a day, being often compelled to turn aside from the wilder tracks, in search of a town or village, for the purposes of refreshment or rest: — there being this remarkable difference between the lovers of the days of chivalry and those of modern times, that the former could pass a week or two in a desert or a forest, without meat, drink, or shelter — a very useful art for all travellers, whether lovers or not, which these degenerate days have unfortunately lost.
Complete Works of Thomas Love Peacock Page 27