CHAPTER IV.
AN INTELLECTUAL ADVENTURE.
A LITTLE affected by the vinous potations which had been so much an
object of anticipation with my companion, Tarleton and I were strolling
homeward when we perceived a remarkably tall man engaged in a contest
with a couple of watchmen. Watchmen were in all cases the especial and
natural enemies of the gallants in my young days; and no sooner did we
see the unequal contest than, drawing our swords with that true English
valour which makes all the quarrels of other people its own, we hastened
to the relief of the weaker party.
"Gentlemen," said the elder watchman, drawing back, "this is no common
brawl; we have been shamefully beaten by this here madman, and for no
earthly cause."
"Who ever did beat a watchman for any earthly cause, you rascal?" cried
the accused party, swinging his walking cane over the complainant's head
with a menacing air.
"Very true," cried Tarleton, coolly. "Seigneurs of the watch, you are
both made and paid to be beaten; /ergo/--you have no right to complain.
Release this worthy cavalier, and depart elsewhere to make night hideous
with your voices."
"Come, come," quoth the younger Dogberry, who perceived a reinforcement
approaching, "move on, good people, and let us do our duty."
"Which," interrupted the elder watchman, "consists in taking this
hulking swaggerer to the watchhouse."
"Thou speakest wisely, man of peace," said Tarleton; "defend thyself;"
and without adding another word he ran the watchman through--not the
body but the coat; avoiding with great dexterity the corporeal substance
of the attacked party, and yet approaching it so closely as to give the
guardian of the streets very reasonable ground for apprehension. No
sooner did the watchman find the hilt strike against his breast, than he
uttered a dismal cry and fell upon the pavement as if he had been shot.
"Now for thee, varlet," cried Tarleton, brandishing his rapier before
the eyes of the other watchman, "tremble at the sword of Gideon."
"O Lord, O Lord!" ejaculated the terrified comrade of the fallen man,
dropping on his knees, "for Heaven's sake, sir, have a care."
"What argument canst thou allege, thou screech-owl of the metropolis,
that thou shouldst not share the same fate as thy brother owl?"
"Oh, sir!" cried the craven night-bird (a bit of a humourist in its
way), "because I have a nest and seven little owlets at home, and t'
other owl is only a bachelor."
"Thou art an impudent thing to jest at us," said Tarleton; "but thy wit
has saved thee; rise."
At this moment two other watchmen came up.
"Gentlemen," said the tall stranger whom we had rescued, "we had better
fly."
Tarleton cast at him a contemptuous look, and placed himself in a
posture of offence.
"Hark ye," said I, "let us effect an honourable peace. Messieurs the
watch, be it lawful for you to carry off the slain, and for us to claim
the prisoners."
But our new foes understood not a jest, and advanced upon us with a
ferocity which might really have terminated in a serious engagement, had
not the tall stranger thrust his bulky form in front of the approaching
battalion, and cried out with a loud voice, "Zounds, my good fellows,
what's all this for? If you take us up you will get broken heads
to-night, and a few shillings perhaps to-morrow. If you leave us alone,
you will have whole heads, and a guinea between you. Now, what say
you?"
Well spoke Phaedra against the dangers of eloquence. The watchmen
looked at each other. "Why really, sir," said one, "what you say alters
the case very much; and if Dick here is not much hurt, I don't know what
we may say to the offer."
So saying, they raised the fallen watchman, who, after three or four
grunts, began slowly to recover himself.
"Are you dead, Dick?" said the owl with seven owlets.
"I think I am," answered the other, groaning.
"Are you able to drink a pot of ale, Dick?" cried the tall stranger.
"I think I am," reiterated the dead man, very lack-a-daisically. And
this answer satisfying his comrades, the articles of peace were
subscribed to.
Now, then, the tall stranger began searching his pockets with a most
consequential air.
"Gad, so!" said he at last; "not in my breeches pocket!--well, it must
be in my waistcoat. No. Well, 'tis a strange thing--demme it is!
Gentlemen, I have had the misfortune to leave my purse behind me: add to
your other favours by lending me wherewithal to satisfy these honest
men."
And Tarleton lent him the guinea. The watchmen now retired, and we were
left alone with our portly ally.
Placing his hand to his heart he made us half-a-dozen profound bows,
returned us thanks for our assistance in some very courtly phrases, and
requested us to allow him to make our acquaintance. We exchanged cards
and departed on our several ways.
"I have met that gentleman before," said Tarleton. "Let us see what
name he pretends to. 'Fielding--Fielding;' ah, by the Lord, it is no
less a person! It is the great Fielding himself."
"Is Mr. Fielding, then, as elevated in fame as in stature?"
"What, is it possible that you have not yet heard of Beau Fielding, who
bared his bosom at the theatre in order to attract the admiring
compassion of the female part of the audience?"
"What!" I cried, "the Duchess of Cleveland's Fielding?"
"The same; the best-looking fellow of his day! A sketch of his history
is in the 'Tatler,' under the name of 'Orlando the Fair.' He is
terribly fallen as to fortune since the day when he drove about in a car
like a sea-shell, with a dozen tall fellows, in the Austrian livery,
black and yellow, running before and behind him. You know he claims
relationship to the house of Hapsburg. As for the present, he writes
poems, makes love, is still good-natured, humorous, and odd; is rather
unhappily addicted to wine and borrowing, and rigidly keeps that oath of
the Carthusians which never suffers them to carry any money about them."
"An acquaintance more likely to yield amusement than profit."
"Exactly so. He will favour you with a visit--to-morrow, perhaps, and
you will remember his propensities."
"Ah! who ever forgets a warning that relates to his purse!"
"True!" said Tarleton, sighing. "Alas! my guinea, thou and I have
parted company forever! /vale, vale, inquit Iolas/!"
