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Literature Post > Lytton, Edward Bulwer > Pelham > Chapter 48

Pelham by Lytton, Edward Bulwer - Chapter 48

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Mons. Jourdain. Etes-vous fou de l'aller quereller' lui qui
entend la tierce et la quarte, et qui sait tuer un homme par
raison demonstrative?

Le Maitre a Danser. Je me moque de sa raison demonstrative,
et de sa tierce et de sa quarte.
--Moliere.

"Hollo, my good friend; how are you?--d--d glad to see you in England,"
vociferated a loud, clear, good-humoured voice, one cold morning, as I
was shivering down Brook-street, into Bond-street. I turned, and beheld
Lord Dartmore, of Rocher de Cancale memory. I returned his greeting with
the same cordiality with which it was given: and I was forthwith saddled
with Dartmore's arm, and dragged up Bond-street, into that borough of all
noisy, riotous, unrefined, good fellows--yclept--'s Hotel.

Here we were soon plunged into a small, low apartment, which Dartmore
informed me was his room. It was crowded with a score of masculine
looking youths, at whose very appearance my gentler frame shuddered from
head to foot. However, I put as good a face on the matter as I possibly
could, and affected a freedom and frankness of manner, correspondent with
the unsophisticated tempers with which I was so unexpectedly brought into
contact.

Dartmore was still gloriously redolent of Oxford: his companions were all
extracts from Christchurch; and his favourite occupations were boxing and
hunting--scenes at the Fives' Court--nights in the Cider Cellar--and
mornings at Bowstreet. Figure to yourself a fitter companion for the hero
and writer of these adventures! The table was covered with boxing gloves,
single sticks, two ponderous pair of dumb bells, a large pewter pot of
porter, and four foils; one snapped in the middle.

"Well," cried Dartmore, to two strapping youths, with their coats off,
"which was the conqueror?"

"Oh, it is not yet decided," was the answer; and forthwith the bigger one
hit the lesser a blow, with his boxing glove, heavy enough to have felled
Ulysses, who, if I recollect aright, was rather 'a game blood' in such
encounters.

This slight salute was forthwith the prelude to an encounter, which the
whole train crowded round to witness. I, among the rest, pretending an
equal ardour, and an equal interest, and hiding, like many persons in a
similar predicament, a most trembling spirit beneath a most valorous
exterior.

When the match (which terminated in favour of the lesser champion) was
over, "Come, Pelham," said Dartmore, "let me take up the gloves with
you?"

"You are too good!" said I, for the first time using my drawing-room
drawl. A wink and a grin went round the room.

"Well, then, will you fence with Staunton, or play at single sticks with
me?" said the short, thick, bullying, impudent, vulgar Earl of Calton.

"Why," answered I, "I am a poor hand at the foils, and a still worse at
the sticks; but I have no objection to exchange a cut or two at the
latter with Lord Calton."

"No, no!" said the good-natured Dartmore;--"no, Calton is the best stick-
player I ever knew;" and then, whispering me, he added, "and the hardest
hitter--and he never spares, either."

"Really," said I aloud, in my most affected tone, "it is a great pity,
for I am excessively delicate; but as I said I would engage him, I don't
like to retract. Pray let me look at the hilt: I hope the basket is
strong: I would not have my knuckles rapped for the world--now for it.
I'm in a deuced fright, Dartmore;" and so saying, and inwardly chuckling
at the universal pleasure depicted in the countenances of Calton and the
by-standers, who were all rejoiced at the idea of the "dandy being
drubbed," I took the stick, and pretended great awkwardness, and lack of
grace in the position I chose.

Calton placed himself in the most scientific attitude, assuming at the
same time an air of hauteur and nonchalance, which seemed to call for the
admiration it met.

"Do we make hard hitting?" said I.

"Oh! by all means," answered Calton, eagerly.

"Well," said I, settling on my own chapeau, "had not you better put on
your hat?"

"Oh, no," answered Calton, imperiously; "I can take pretty good care of
my head;" and with these words we commenced.

I remained at first nearly upright, not availing myself in the least of
my superiority in height, and only acting on the defensive. Calton played
well enough for a gentleman; but he was no match for one who had, at the
age of thirteen, beat the Life Guardsmen at Angelo's. Suddenly, when I
had excited a general laugh at the clumsy success with which I warded off
a most rapid attack of Calton's, I changed my position, and keeping
Calton at arm's length till I had driven him towards a corner, I took
advantage of a haughty imprudence on his part, and by a common enough
move in the game, drew back from a stroke aimed at my limbs, and suffered
the whole weight of my weapon to fall so heavily upon his head, that I
felled him to the ground in an instant.

I was sorry for the severity of the stroke, the moment after it was
inflicted; but never was punishment more deserved. We picked up the
discomfited hero, and placed him on a chair to recover his senses;
meanwhile I received the congratulations of the conclave with a frank
alteration of manner which delighted them; and I found it impossible to
get away, till I had promised to dine with Dartmore, and spend the rest
of the evening in the society of his friends.