“Why, truly, it would admit of much appropriate pageantry, and the arrangement is, doubtless, countenanced by classical authority. Augustus triumphed three days, for the purpose of commemorating three great events; the first of which was the defeat of the Pannonians and Dalmatii; the second, the battle of Actium; and the third, the reduction of Egypt. Then, again, we have the Ludi Magni of the Romans, and the solemn Athenian feast, Apaturia, which lasted during three days; and above all, the Secular Games, which were continued through the same period. In the face of such authorities, it would certainly ill become me to offer any objection; although, as vicar of the parish, I cannot conscientiously close my eyes against the evils which might possibly arise from such protracted revelry. I would, therefore, with submission, propose that the three events to which you allude, should be celebrated by three distinct festivals on one and the same day.”
The major saw plainly that the vicar might be made to approve of, or dissent from, any plan, by the dexterous use of classical authority; he therefore determined to use it as a talisman for the accomplishment of his purpose.
“I like your proposition,” replied the major, “but I greatly fear that you will not be able to support it by any classical authority; and remember, that every thing must be conducted in the strictest accordance with ancient usage.”
“I respect your intention,” answered the vicar, “and will immediately search the writings of Lipsius for a precedent; an author who has collected fifteen laws of the Roman entertainments; or, perhaps, the Pandects of Franciscus Modius, who has so ably treated of nuptial ceremonies, will furnish the desired information.”
Mr. Seymour here interrupted the conversation, by enquiring of the major the plan of those amusements which he proposed to provide.
“I will convert the elm meadow at Osterley Park into a fair,” replied the major, “wherein every species of amusement shall be exhibited: I will engage that vagabond Punch, who, like a snail, travels about the country with his house at his back, to display his hereditary wit, and mimic drolleries; tumblers, rope-dancers, conjurors, fire-eaters, and, in short, the whole merry train of Comus, shall be pressed into our service. After these exhibitions, the company may weave the mazy dance, for platforms shall be erected for their accommodation; I will arrange orchestras for music, and ornamented tents for refreshments. The vicar,” observed the major, with an arch smile, “shall open the ball with the bride.”
“Had I numbered a few olympiads less, major, I might not have declined so flattering a distinction,” replied Mr. Twaddleton, evidently not displeased with the compliment.
“Find some classical authority for the measure, and let your age sanction the propriety of my proposal,” said the major.
“Your suggestion merits attention,--let me see--I have it, major. Socrates learned to dance very late in life, and Cato, with all his severity of manners, disdained not, at the age of sixty, to practise it. I will, therefore, comply with your desire, and certainly lead the bride down the first dance.”
“The canal,” continued the major, “shall, for the first time, float the proud emblems of British glory on its glassy bosom; and when the shades of evening fall, my Lilliputian ships shall engage--such cannonading! such nautical evolutions!! Mr. Seymour.”