“It does, Sir. They do, Sir.”
“Then, O’Carroll,” would the beau exclaim aloud, “let them die of love, and be d—d!”
“What a perfect gentleman! what a delicious creature!” chorused the ladies.
“Ay, ay,” said the beau, “look and die! look and die!”
He was not kicked off the public promenade, but he was occasionally so ejected from the public stage. It was the habit or the fashion then for a portion of the audience to stand upon the stage, and the actors played, like mountebanks, in a crowd. It was further the habit of this superlative beau to make remarks aloud upon the ladies in the boxes. The latter,—not the boxes, but the ladies,—were not slow in flinging back retorts; and the players, enraged at being unheeded, would then fairly turn upon Fielding and turn him out, with the ceremony, or want of it, observed in ejecting ill-bred curs.
But the beau was amply compensated for such treatment as this by the favour dealt to him by “officers and gentlemen.” He was once being pursued by bailiffs sent after him by tailors whom he had ruined. As hare and hounds approached St. James’s Palace, the officers on guard turned out, attacked the myrmidons of the law, pinked them all over till they looked like ribbed peppermint, and finally bore Fielding in triumph into the Palace!
The equipage of “Orlando” was not less singular than he was himself. He kept a hired chariot, drawn by his own horses, and attended by two footmen in bright yellow coats and black sarsnet sashes. Maidens sighed as he rode by, and murmured “Adonis!” Admiring widows looked at him and exclaimed, “Handsome as Hercules!” He really did unite the most exquisite beauty both of feature and stature, with the most gigantic strength. Boys followed him in crowds, and hailed him father. He showered among them as many curses as blessings. “Did you never see a man before?” he once asked the foremost urchin of a youthful mob. “Never such a one as you, noble general,” answered the lad, an embryo beau from Westminster School. “Sirrah, I believe thee; there is a crown for thy wit.”
Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff states that the beau called himself an antediluvian, in respect of the insects which appeared in the world as men; and the ‘Tatler’ further says, that “he sometimes rode in an open tumbril of less size than ordinary, to show the largeness of his limbs and the grandeur of his personage to the greater advantage. At other seasons all his appointments had a magnificence, as if it were formed by the genius of Trimalchio of old, which showed itself in doing ordinary things with an air of pomp and grandeur. Orlando therefore called for tea by beat of drum; his valet got ready to shave him by a trumpet to horse; and water was brought for his teeth when the sound was changed to boot and saddle.”
Amid all this, the prince of beaux was speculatively looking abroad. At Doctors’ Commons he had seen the will of a Mr. Deleau, who left to his widow a town residence in Copthall-court, a country mansion at Waddon, in Surrey, and sixty thousand pounds, at the lady’s absolute disposal. Fielding resolved to woo, and of course to win her.
His first application was made through an agent, to a Mrs. Villars, who used to act as hair-dresser to the much-sought-after widow. Her services were asked for, under promise of great reward, to bring matters about so that Mrs. Deleau should see Fielding, if it were only, as it were, by accident. The beau thought that if the widow saw, he would conquer. Were a marriage to follow, Fielding promised hundreds out of his wife’s money.