University of Virginia Library

15. XV.
A COMBAT BY MOONLIGHT.

As I dismounted in the court-yard of the palace,
Harry came out and hugged me after the French
fashion introduced by the followers of her majesty.

“Here's a laggard!” cried Harry. “What was the
attraction at Woodstock, Ned? Did you lose yourself
in the labyrinth built to hide Fair Rosamond?”

“I don't believe there is any labyrinth, Harry; and
I've been to Cecil Court.”

I proceeded to give my brother news of home, and
to describe my meeting with Mr. Hampden; then,
seeing signs of unwonted activity in the palace, I asked
their meaning.

“His majesty is to make his royal entry into London
to-morrow. You are just in time, Ned. We're
all going,—Guards, courtiers, maids of honor, dwarfs,
and all!”

“Dwarfs?”

“I mean that his worship Sir Geoffrey Hudson, now
become a great favorite with her majesty, will grace the
occasion with his presence, no less than the largest of
us. And do you know, Ned, this little manikin and
mere hop-o'-my-thumb is a decided character?”

“I should think as much.”

“I mean that he is no mere plaything, weak in head
as in body, like the rest of his pigmy species, but a man
in feeling, and in brain too,—grave, serious, and courageous.
His deformity is a source of deep mortification
to him; and when the maids of honor caress him
lap-dog fashion, he looks at them as though he would
bite them, uttering a singular sort of snarl, and plainly
resents their treatment of him as though he were a
plaything.”

“And towards the men?”

“He is stern and bitter. 'Tis the fashion to tease
him; and that sallow-faced Coftangry of the Guards
takes the lead. Hark! there they are in the guard-room
now. I hear the piping voice of the dwarf and
the gibing tones of Coftangry. Let us go see!”

We entered the guard-room, where a singular spectacle
presented itself. Some young noblemen of the
Guards—for half the company were lords—were standing
in a circle around some object upon the floor,
which I made out on a nearer approach to be the figure
of the dwarf. The manikin, who was less than two
feet in height, wore a very rich costume,—velvet cloak,
plumed beaver, silk stockings, and high-heeled shoes
with large rosettes. At his side hung a miniature dress
sword, about the length of a knitting-needle; and his

face flamed with anger, as he fixed his eyes spitefully
upon a tall, sallow-faced young gentleman with a
sneering expression of countenance, who was teasing
the pigmy for the general amusement.

“Come, come, your knightship,” said Coftangry,
with a sneer; “dance a galliard for our entertainment.
Hop, hop, Sir Hop-o'-my-thumb!”

“Were I a lady, sir,” said the dwarf, in his thin,
piping voice, “I know what I never should do.”

“What is that, pray?”

“I should never hop in a galliard with such a tallow-faced
anatomy as yourself!”

The retort raised a loud laugh. Coftangry was immensely
unpopular, and the dwarf had touched his
tender point,—his lath-like body and sallow complexion.

“'Twas but yesterday,” piped the dwarf, “that I
overheard two of her majesty's maids of honor conversing.
One said, `Who is this Coftangry, and how
do such people get to court?' `I know not,' returned
the other, `unless they are dug up and brought as
curiosities.”'

A second laugh came from the group, and Coftangry
grew furious.

“If you were not a wretched pigmy,” he cried,
losing his self-possession and giving way to anger, “I
would chastise you upon the spot!”

The dwarf bounded with rage.

“Chastise me? You dare not attempt it! I wear a
sword!” he shrilled.

“Ha, ha!” came from Coftangry, in forced merriment;
“a skewer, you would say!”

The dwarf whipped out his weapon, and the circle
suddenly widened.

“No fighting in the palace, gentlemen!” cried one
of the young nobleman, with mock earnestness.

“True,” the dwarf growled, returning his sword to
its scabbard; “but this tallow-face has gibed at me,
and I return his insult—thus!”

With incredible agility, the pigmy leaped upon a
chair, thence to the long table near, and, before Coftangry
divined his intention, bestowed a violent slap
upon the Guardsman's face. It was delivered with all
the energy of hatred, and rang through the apartment.
Coftangry uttered a cry of rage.

“Woe to you, cur!” he shouted; and he was about
to smite the erect and defiant dwarf to the earth, when
a hand was laid on his shoulder, and Harry's voice
said,—

“You don't mean to strike that little man, I hope,
sir? You will exterminate him!”

“Who are you?” growled Coftangry, wheeling
round.

“My name is Cecil, sir,” was the reply.

“Well, I counsel you, Mr. Cecil, to attend to your
own affairs!”

Harry flushed red, and went close to Coftangry.

“I make this my affair, sir,” he said, “since 'tis
always the business of a gentleman to protect the weak
from outrage.”

“You shall answer for this instrusion!”

“I am quite willing to do so, sir,” said Harry, in a
low tone. “The moon is shining; there is the park;
five minutes' walk will take us out of view.”

Coftangry had, apparently, not expected a proposition
so sudden and direct. He was silent for a moment,
and became very pale, but he saw that all eyes were
fixed upon him. The consequence was that fifteen
minutes afterwards Harry and himself were standing
opposite each other, sword in hand, in a remote
portion of the park, a number of the Guardsmen
having accompanied the adversaries to witness the
encounter.

Such affairs were at that time of every-day occurrence,
and seldom resulted in more than a few scratches,
when the friends of the parties would declare that
honor was satisfied.

Such was the result on this occasion. It was a singular
encounter,—a very burlesque. Harry lunged,
expecting his opponent to parry. He did nothing of
the sort, and Harry ran his sword-hand on Coftangry's
point, wounding himself.

“'Tis plain you're no swordsman, sir; I will therefore
disarm without hurting you,” said my brother.

As he spoke, Coftangry's rapier flew twenty paces,
and Harry coolly returned his sword to its scabbard.

“Take your life, sir,” he said; “I have no use for
it. Good-evening, sir.”

And, winding a handkerchief around his bleeding
hand, he left the spot, accompanied by his friends.

Such was the termination of the impromptu duel;
beginning and ending in a few minutes, under the
moonlight in Hampton Court park. I have spoken
of it because it was the preface to a duel with more
deadly results; but that incident will be narrated in its
place.

I pass to the king's entry into London now, and to
the great and unfortunate events which marked the few
succeeding days.