PRO HONORIA
In the early winter of 1761 the Earl of Bute, then Secretary of State,gave vent to an outburst of unaccustomed profanity. Mr. RobertCalverley, who represented England at the Court of St. Petersburg, hadresigned his office without prelude or any word of explanation. Thisinfuriated Bute, since his pet scheme was to make peace with Russia andthereby end the Continental War. Now all was to do again; the ministerraged, shrugged, furnished a new emissary with credentials, and markedCalverley's name for punishment.
As much, indeed, was written to Calverley by Lord Ufford, the poet,diarist, musician and virtuoso:
Our Scottish Mortimer, it appears, is unwilling to have the map ofEurope altered because Mr. Robert Calverley has taken a whim to go intoItaly. He is angrier than I have ever known him to be. He swears thatwith a pen's flourish you have imperiled the well-being of England, andraves in the same breath of the preferment he had designed for you.Beware of him. For my own part, I shrug and acquiesce, because I amfamiliar with your pranks. I merely venture to counsel that you do notcrown the Pelion of abuse, which our statesmen are heaping upon you,with the Ossa of physical as well as political suicide. Hasten on yourItalian jaunt, for Umfraville, who is now with me at Carberry Hill, haspublicly declared that if you dare re-appear in England he will haveyou horsewhipped by his footmen. In consequence, I would mostearnestly advise----
Mr. Calverley read no further, but came straightway into England. Hehad not been in England since his elopement, three years before thatspring, with the Marquis of Umfraville's betrothed, Lord Radnor'sdaughter, whom Calverley had married at Calais. Mr. Calverley and hiswife were presently at Carberry Hill, Lord Ufford's home, where,arriving about moon-rise, they found a ball in progress.
Their advent caused a momentary check to merriment. The fiddlersceased, because Lord Ufford had signaled them. The fine guests pausedin their stately dance. Lord Ufford, in a richly figured suit, camehastily to Lady Honoria Calverley, his high heels tapping audibly uponthe floor, and with gallantry lifted her hand toward his lips. Herhusband he embraced, and the two men kissed each other, as was thecustom of the age. Chatter and laughter rose on every side as pert andmerry as the noises of a brook in springtime.
"I fear that as Lord Umfraville's host," young Calverley at once began,"you cannot with decorum convey to the ignoramus my opinion as to hisability to conjugate the verb _to dare_."
"Why, but no! you naturally demand a duel," the poet-earl returned."It is very like you. I lament your decision, but I will attempt toarrange the meeting for to-morrow morning."
Lord Ufford smiled and nodded to the musicians. He finished the danceto admiration, as this lean dandified young man dideverything--"assiduous to win each fool's applause," as his own versesscornfully phrase it. Then Ufford went about his errand of death andconversed for a long while with Umfraville.
Afterward Lord Ufford beckoned to Calverley, who shrugged and returnedMr. Erwyn's snuff-box, which Calverley had been admiring. He followedthe earl into a side-room opening upon the Venetian Chamber wherein thefete was. Ufford closed the door. You saw that he had put away theexterior of mirth that hospitality demanded of him, and perturbationshowed in the lean countenance which was by ordinary so proud and soamiably peevish.
"Robin, you have performed many mad actions in your life!" he said;"but this return into the three kingdoms out-Herods all! Did I notwarn you against Umfraville!"
"Why, certainly you did," returned Mr. Calverley. "You informedme--which was your duty as a friend--of this curmudgeon's boast that hewould have me horsewhipped if I dared venture into England. You willreadily conceive that any gentleman of self-respect cannot permit suchfarcical utterances to be delivered without appending a gladiatorialepilogue. Well! what are the conditions of this duel?"
"Oh, fool that I have been!" cried Ufford, who was enabled now byvirtue of their seclusion to manifest his emotion. "I, who have knownyou all your life----!"
He paced the room. Pleading music tinged the silence almost insensibly.
"Heh, Fate has an imperial taste in humor!" the poet said. "Robin, wehave been more than brothers. And it is I, I, of all persons living,who have drawn you into this imbroglio!"
"My danger is not very apparent as yet," said Calverley, "if Umfravillecontrols his sword no better than his tongue."
My lord of Ufford went on: "There is no question of a duel. It is aswell to spare you what Lord Umfraville replied to my challenge. Let itsuffice that we do not get sugar from the snake. Besides, the man hashis grievance. Robin, have you forgot that necklace you and Pevenseytook from Umfraville some three years ago--before you went into Russia?"
Calverley laughed. The question recalled an old hot-headed time when,exalted to a frolicsome zone by the discovery of Lady Honoria Pomfret'slove for him, he planned the famous jest which he and the mad Earl ofPevensey perpetrated upon Umfraville. This masquerade won quickapplause. Persons of ton guffawed like ploughboys over thediscomfiture of an old hunks thus divertingly stripped of his bride,all his betrothal gifts, and of the very clothes he wore. An anonymousscribbler had detected in the occurrence a denouement suited to thestage and had constructed a comedy around it, which, when produced bythe Duke's company, had won acclaim from hilarious auditors.
So Calverley laughed heartily. "Gad, what a jest that was! ThisUmfraville comes to marry Honoria. And highwaymen attack his coach! Iwould give L50 to have witnessed this usurer's arrival at Denton Honorin his underclothes! and to have seen his monkey-like grimaces when helearned that Honoria and I were already across the Channel!"
"You robbed him, though----"
"Indeed, for beginners at peculation we did not do so badly. We robbedhim and his valet of everything in the coach, including their breeches.You do not mean that Pevensey has detained the poor man's weddingtrousers? If so, it is unfortunate, because this loud-mouthed miserhas need of them in order that he may be handsomely interred."
"Lord Umfraville's wedding-suit was stuffed with straw, hung on a poleand paraded through London by Pevensey, March, Selwyn and some dozenother madcaps, while six musicians marched before them. The clotheswere thus conveyed to Umfraville's house. I think none of us wouldhave relished a joke like that were he the butt of it."
Now the poet's lean countenance was turned upon young Calverley, and asalways, Ufford evoked that nobility in Calverley which follies veiledbut had not ever killed.
"Egad," said Robert Calverley; "I grant you that all this wasinfamously done. I never authorized it. I shall kill Pevensey.Indeed, I will do more," he added, with a flourish. "For I willapologize to Umfraville, and this very night."
But Ufford was not disposed to levity. "Let us come to the point," hesadly said. "Pevensey returned everything except the necklace whichUmfraville had intended to be his bridal gift. Pevensey conceded thejest, in fine; and denied all knowledge of any necklace."
It was an age of accommodating morality. Calverley sketched a whistle,and showed no other trace of astonishment.
"I see. The fool confided in the spendthrift. My dear, I understand.In nature Pevensey gave the gems to some nymph of Sadler's Wells orCovent Garden. For I was out of England. And so he capped his knaverywith insolence. It is an additional reason why Pevensey should notlive to scratch a gray head. It is, however, an affront to me thatUmfraville should have believed him. I doubt if I may overlook that,Horace?"
"I question if he did believe. But, then, what help had he? ThisPevensey is an earl. His person as a peer of England is inviolable.No statute touches him directly, because he may not be confined exceptby the King's personal order. And it is tolerably notorious thatPevensey is in Lord Bute's pay, and that our Scottish Mortimer, to dohim justice, does not permit his spies to be injured."
Now Mr. Calverley took snuff. The music without was now more audible,and it had shifted to a merrier tune.
"I think I comprehend. Pevensey and I--whatever were our motives--havecommitted a robbery. P
evensey, as the law runs, is safe. I, too, wassafe as long as I kept out of England. As matters stand, LordUmfraville intends to press a charge of theft against me. And I am indisgrace with Bute, who is quite content to beat offenders with acrooked stick. This confluence of two-penny accidents is annoying."
"It is worse than you know," my lord of Ufford returned. He opened thedoor which led to the Venetian Chamber. A surge of music, of laughter,and of many lights invaded the room wherein they stood. "D'ye seethose persons, just past Umfraville, so inadequately disguised asgentlemen? They are from Bow Street. Lord Umfraville intends toapprehend you here to-night."
"He has an eye for the picturesque," drawled Calverley. "My tragedy,to do him justice, could not be staged more strikingly. Thoseadditional alcoves have improved the room beyond belief. I mustapologize for not having rendered my compliments a trifle earlier."
Internally he outstormed Termagaunt. It was infamous enough, in allconscience, to be arrested, but to have half the world of fashion aswitnessess of ones discomfiture was perfectly intolerable. Herecognized the excellent chance he had of being the most prominentfigure upon some scaffold before long, but that contingency did notgreatly trouble Calverley, as set against the certainty of being maderidiculous within the next five minutes.
In consequence, he frowned and rearranged the fall of his shirt-frill awhit the more becomingly.
"Yes, for hate sharpens every faculty," the earl went on. "EvenUmfraville understands that you do not fear death. So he means to haveyou tried like any common thief while all your quondam friends sit andsnigger. And you will be convicted----"
"Why, necessarily, since I am not as Pevensey. Of course, I mustconfess I took the necklace."
"And Pevensey must stick to the tale that he knows nothing of anynecklace. Dear Robin, this means Newgate. Accident deals very hardlywith us, Robin, for this means Tyburn Hill."
"Yes; I suppose it means my death," young Calverley assented. "Well! Ihave feasted with the world and found its viands excellent. Thebanquet ended, I must not grumble with my host because I find hischoice of cordials not altogether to my liking." Thus speaking, he wasaware of nothing save that the fiddlers were now about an air to whichhe had often danced with his dear wife.
"I have a trick yet left to save our honor,----" Lord Ufford turned toa table where wine and glasses were set ready. "I propose a toast.Let us drink--for the last time--to the honor of the Calverleys."
"It is an invitation I may not decorously refuse. And yet--it may bethat I do not understand you?"
My lord of Ufford poured wine into two glasses. These glasses werefrom among the curios he collected so industriously--tall, fragilethings, of seventeenth century make, very intricately cut with rosesand thistles, and in the bottom of each glass a three-penny piece wasembedded. Lord Ufford took a tiny vial from his pocket and emptied itscontents into the glass which stood the nearer to Mr. Calverley.
"This is Florence water. We dabblers in science are experimenting withit at Gresham College. A taste of it means death--a painless, quickand honorable death. You will have died of a heart seizure. Come,Robin, let us drink to the honor of the Calverleys."
The poet-earl paused for a little while. Now he was like some seer ofsupernal things.
"For look you," said Lord Ufford, "we come of honorable blood. We twoare gentlemen. We have our code, and we may not infringe upon it. Ourcode does not invariably square with reason, and I doubt if Scripturewould afford a dependable foundation. So be it! We have our code andwe may not infringe upon it. There have been many Calverleys who didnot fear their God, but there was never any one of them who did notfear dishonor. I am the head of no less proud a house. As such, Icounsel you to drink and die within the moment. It is not possible aCalverley survive dishonor. Oh, God!" the poet cried, and his voicebroke; "and what is honor to this clamor within me! Robin, I love youbetter than I do this talk of honor! For, Robin, I have loved youlong! so long that what we do to-night will always make life hideous tome!"
Calverley was not unmoved, but he replied in the tone of dailyintercourse. "It is undoubtedly absurd to perish here, like someunreasonable adversary of the Borgias. Your device is ratheroutrageously horrific, Horace, like a bit out of your own romance--yes,egad, it is pre-eminently worthy of the author of _The Vassal ofSpalatro_. Still I can understand that it is preferable to having fatand greasy fellows squander a shilling for the privilege of perchingupon a box while I am being hanged. And I think I shall accept yourtoast--
"You will be avenged," Ufford said, simply.
"My dear, as if I ever questioned that! Of course, you will killPevensey first and Umfraville afterward. Only I want to live. For Iwas meant to play a joyous role wholeheartedly in the big comedy oflife. So many people find the world a dreary residence," Mr. Calverleysighed, "that it is really a pity some one of these long-facedstolidities cannot die now instead of me. For I have found lifewonderful throughout."
The brows of Ufford knit. "Would you consent to live as a transportedfelon? I have much money. I need not tell you the last penny is atyour disposal. It might be possible to bribe. Indeed, Lord Bute isall-powerful to-day and he would perhaps procure a pardon for you at myentreaty. He is so kind as to admire my scribblings. . . Or you mightlive among your fellow-convicts somewhere over sea for a while longer.I had not thought that such would be your choice----" Here Uffordshrugged, restrained by courtesy. "Besides, Lord Bute is greatlyangered with you, because you have endangered his Russian alliance.However, if you wish it, I will try----"
"Oh, for that matter, I do not much fear Lord Bute, because I bring himthe most welcome news he has had in many a day. I may tell you sinceit will be public to-morrow. The Tzaritza Elizabeth, our implacableenemy, died very suddenly three weeks ago. Peter of Holstein-Gottropreigns to-day in Russia, and I have made terms with him. I came totell Lord Bute the Cossack troops have been recalled from Prussia. Thewar is at an end." Young Calverley meditated and gave his customaryboyish smile. "Yes, I discharged my Russian mission after all--evenafter I had formally relinquished it--because I was so opportunelyaided by the accident of the Tzaritza's death. And Bute cares only forresults. So I would explain to him that I resigned my mission simplybecause in Russia my wife could not have lived out another year----"
The earl exclaimed, "Then Honoria is ill!" Mr. Calverley did notattend, but stood looking out into the Venetian Chamber.
"See, Horace, she is dancing with Anchester while I wait here so nearto death. She dances well. But Honoria does everything adorably. Icannot tell you--oh, not even you!--how happy these three years havebeen with her. Eh, well! the gods are jealous of such happiness. Youwill remember how her mother died? It appears that Honoria isthreatened with a slow consumption, and a death such as her mother'swas. She does not know. There was no need to frighten her. Foralthough the rigors of another Russian winter, as all physicians tellme, would inevitably prove fatal to her, there is no reason why mydearest dear should not continue to laugh just as she always does--fora long, bright and happy while in some warm climate such as Italy's.In nature I resigned my appointment. I did not consider England, or myown trivial future, or anything of that sort. I considered onlyHonoria."
He gazed for many moments upon the woman whom he loved. His speechtook on an odd simplicity.
"Oh, yes, I think that in the end Bute would procure a pardon for me.But not even Bute can override the laws of England. I would have to betried first, and have ballads made concerning me, and be condemned, andso on. That would detain Honoria in England, because she issufficiently misguided to love me. I could never persuade her to leaveme with my life in peril. She could not possibly survive an Englishwinter." Here Calverley evinced unbridled mirth. "The irony of eventsis magnificent. There is probably no question of hanging or even oftransportation. It is merely certain that if I venture from this roomI bring about Honoria's death as incontestably as if I strangled herwith these two h
ands. So I choose my own death in preference. It willgrieve Honoria----" His voice was not completely steady. "But she isyoung. She will forget me, for she forgets easily, and she will behappy. I look to you to see--even before you have killedPevensey--that Honoria goes into Italy. For she admires and loves you,almost as much as I do, Horace, and she will readily be guided byyou----"
He cried my lord of Ufford's given name some two or three times, foryoung Calverley had turned, and he had seen Ufford's face.
The earl moistened his lips. "You are a fool," he said, with a thinvoice. "Why do you trouble me by being better than I? Or do you onlyposture for my benefit? Do you deal honestly with me, RobertCalverley?--then swear it----" He laughed here, very horribly. "Ah,no, when did you ever lie! You do not lie--not you!"
He waited for a while. "But I am otherwise. I dare to lie when theoccasion promises. I have desired Honoria since the first momentwherein I saw her. I may tell you now. I think that you do notremember. We gathered cherries. I ate two of them which had just lainupon her knee----"
His hands had clenched each other, and his lips were drawn back so thatyou saw his exquisite teeth, which were ground together. He stood thusfor a little, silent.
Then Ufford began again: "I planned all this. I plotted this withUmfraville. I wrote you such a letter as would inevitably draw you toyour death. I wished your death. For Honoria would then be freed ofyou. I would condole with her. She is readily comforted, impatient ofsorrow, incapable of it, I dare say. She would have married me. . . .Why must I tell you this? Oh, I am Fate's buffoon! For I have won, Ihave won! and there is that in me which will not accept the stake Icheated for."
"And you," said Calverley--"this thing is you!"
"A helpless reptile now," said Ufford. "I have not the power to checkLord Umfraville in his vengeance. You must be publicly disgraced, andmust, I think, be hanged even now when it will not benefit me at all.It may be I shall weep for that some day! Or else Honoria must die,because an archangel could not persuade her to desert you in yourperil. For she loves you--loves you to the full extent of her merryand shallow nature. Oh, I know that, as you will never know it. Ishall have killed Honoria! I shall not weep when Honoria dies.Harkee, Robin! they are dancing yonder. It is odd to think that Ishall never dance again."
"Horace--!" the younger man said, like a person of two minds. Heseemed to choke. He gave a frantic gesture. "Oh, I have loved you. Ihave loved nothing as I have loved you."
"And yet you chatter of your passion for Honoria!" Lord Uffordreturned, with a snarl. "I ask what proof is there of this?--Why, thatyou have surrendered your well-being in this world through love of her.But I gave what is vital. I was an honorable gentleman without any actin all my life for which I had need to blush. I loved you as I lovedno other being in the universe." He spread his hands, which nowtwitched horribly. "You will never understand. It does not matter. Idesired Honoria. To-day through my desire of her, I am that monstrousthing which you alone know me to be. I think I gave up much. _Prohonoria!_" he chuckled. "The Latin halts, but, none the less, the jestis excellent."
"You have given more than I would dare to give," said Calverley. Heshuddered.
"And to no end!" cried Ufford. "Ah, fate, the devil and that code Imocked are all in league to cheat me!"
Said Calverley: "The man whom I loved most is dead. Oh, had the worldbeen searched between the sunrise and the sunsetting there had not beenfound his equal. And now, poor fool, I know that there was never anyman like this!"
"Nay, there was such a man," the poet said, "in an old time which Ialmost forget. To-day he is quite dead. There is only a poor wretchwho has been faithless in all things, who has not even served the devilfaithfully."
"Why, then, you lackey with a lackey's soul, attend to what I say. Canyou make any terms with Umfraville?"
"I can do nothing," Ufford replied. "You have robbed him--as me--ofwhat he most desired. You have made him the laughing-stock of England.He does not pardon any more than I would pardon."
"And as God lives and reigns, I do not greatly blame him," said youngCalverley. "This man at least was wronged. Concerning you I do notspeak, because of a false dream I had once very long ago. YetUmfraville was treated infamously. I dare concede what I could notpermit another man to say and live, now that I drink a toast which Imust drink alone. For I drink to the honor of the Calverleys. I havenot ever lied to any person in this world, and so I may not drink withyou."
"Oh, but you drink because you know your death to be the one eventwhich can insure her happiness," cried Ufford. "We are not muchunlike. And I dare say it is only an imaginary Honoria we love, afterall. Yet, look, my fellow-Ixion! for to the eye at least is she notperfect?"
The two men gazed for a long while. Amid that coterie of exquisites,wherein allusion to whatever might be ugly in the world was tacitlyallowed to be unmentionable, Lady Honoria glitteringly went about themoment's mirthful business with lovely ardor. You saw now unmistakablythat "Light Queen of Elfdom, dead Titania's heir" of whom Ufford writesin the fourth Satire. Honoria's prettiness, rouged, frail, andmodishly enhanced, allured the eye from all less elfin brilliancies;and as she laughed among so many other relishers of life her charmsbecame the more instant, just as a painting quickens in every tint whenset in an appropriate frame.
"There is no other way," her husband said. He drank and toasted whatwas dearest in the world, smiling to think how death came to him inthat wine's familiar taste. "I drink to the most lovely of createdladies! and to her happiness!"
He snapped the stem of the glass and tossed it joyously aside.
"Assuredly, there is no other way," said Ufford. "And armored by thatknowledge, even I may drink as honorable people do. Pro honoria!" Thenthis man also broke his emptied glass.
"How long have I to live?" said Calverley, and took snuff.
"Why, thirty years, I think, unless you duel too immoderately," repliedLord Ufford,--"since while you looked at Honoria I changed our glasses.No! no! a thing done has an end. Besides, it is not unworthy of me.So go boldly to the Earl of Bute and tell him all. You are my cousinand my successor. Yes, very soon you, too, will be a peer of Englandand as safe from molestation as is Lord Pevensey. I am the first totender my congratulations. Now I make certain that they are notpremature."
The poet laughed at this moment as a man may laugh in hell. He reeled.His lean face momentarily contorted, and afterward the poet died.
"I am Lord Ufford," said Calverley aloud. "The person of a peer isinviolable----" He presently looked downward from rapt gazing at hiswife.
Fresh from this horrible half-hour, he faced a future so alluring as byits beauty to intimidate him. Youth, love, long years of happiness,and (by this capricious turn) now even opulence, were the ingredientsof a captivating vista. And yet he needs must pause a while to thinkof the dear comrade he had lost--of that loved boy, his pattern in thetime of their common youthfulness which gleamed in memory as bright andmisty as a legend, and of the perfect chevalier who had been like atouchstone to Robert Calverley a bare half-hour ago. He knelt, touchedlightly the fallen jaw, and lightly kissed the cheek of this poorwreckage; and was aware that the caress was given with more tendernessthan Robert Calverley had shown in the same act a bare half-hour ago.
Meanwhile the music of a country dance urged the new Earl of Ufford tocome and frolic where every one was laughing; and to partake with gustoof the benefits which chance had provided; and to be forthwith as merryas was decorous in a peer of England.
The Certain Hour (Dizain des Poëtes) Page 25
