CHAPTER XXII.
At length the treacherous snare was laid, Poor pug was caught--to townconvey'd; There sold. How envied was his doom, Made captive in a lady'sroom!--Gay's Fables.
I was sitting alone a morning or two after this adventure, when Bedosentering, announced une dame. This dame was a fine tall thing, dressedout like a print in the Magasin des Modes. She sate herself down,threw up her veil, and, after a momentary pause, asked me if I liked myapartment?
"Very much," said I, somewhat surprised at the nature of theinterrogatory.
"Perhaps you would wish it altered in some way?" rejoined the lady.
"Non--mille remercimens!" said I--"you are very good to be so interestedin my accommodation."
"Those curtains might be better arranged--that sofa replaced with a moreelegant one," continued my new superintendant.
"Really," said I, "I am too, too much flattered. Perhaps you would liketo have my rooms altogether; if so, make at least no scruple of sayingit."
"Oh, no," replied the lady, "I have no objection to your staying here."
"You are too kind," said I, with a low bow.
There was a pause of some moments--I took advantage of it.
"I think, Madame, I have the honour of speaking to--to--to--"
"The mistress of the hotel," said the lady, quietly. "I merely called toask you how you did, and hope you were well accommodated."
"Rather late, considering I have been six weeks in the house," thoughtI, revolving in my mind various reports I had heard of my presentvisitor's disposition to gallantry. However, seeing it was all over withme, I resigned myself, with the patience of a martyr, to the fate that Iforesaw. I rose, approached her chair, took her hand (very hard and thinit was too), and thanked her with a most affectionate squeeze.
"I have seen much English!" said the lady, for the first time speakingin our language.
"Ah!" said I, giving another squeeze.
"You are handsome, garcon," renewed the lady.
"I am so," I replied.
At that moment Bedos entered, and whispered that Madame D'Anville was inthe anti-room.
"Good heavens!" said I, knowing her jealousy of disposition, "what isto be done? Oblige me, Madame," seizing the unfortunate mistress of thehotel, and opening the door to the back entrance--"There," said I, "youcan easily escape. Bon jour."
Hardly had I closed the door, and put the key in my pocket, beforeMadame D'Anville entered.
"Do you generally order your servants to keep me waiting in youranti-room?" said she haughtily.
"Not generally," I replied, endeavouring to make my peace; but allmy complaisance was in vain--she was jealous of my intimacy with theDuchesse de Perpignan, and glad of any excuse to vent her pique. I amjust the sort of man to bear, but never to forgive a woman's ill temper,viz.--it makes no impression on me at the time, but leaves a sorerecollection of something disagreeable, which I internally resolve neveragain to experience. Madame D'Anville was going to the Luxembourg; andmy only chance of soothing her anger was to accompany her.
Down stairs, therefore, we went, and drove to the Luxembourg; I gaveBedos, before my departure, various little commissions, and told him heneed not be at home till the evening. Long before the expiration of anhour, Madame D'Anville's ill humour had given me an excuse for affectingit myself. Tired to death of her, and panting for release, I took ahigh tone--complained of her ill temper, and her want of love--spokerapidly--waited for no reply, and leaving her at the Luxembourg,proceeded forthwith to Galignani's, like a man just delivered from astrait waistcoat.
Leave me now, for a few minutes, in the reading-room at Galignani's,and return to the mistress of the hotel, whom I had so unceremoniouslythrust out of my salon. The passage into which she had been putcommunicated by one door with my rooms, and by another with thestaircase. Now, it had so happened, that Bedos was in the habit oflocking the latter door, and keeping the key; the other egress, it willbe remembered, I myself had secured; so that the unfortunate mistress ofthe hotel was no sooner turned into this passage than she found herselfin a sort of dungeon, ten feet by five, and surrounded, like Eve inParadise, by a whole creation--not of birds, beasts, and fishes, but ofbrooms, brushes, unclean linen, and a wood-basket. What she was to do inthis dilemma was utterly inconceivable; scream, indeed, she might,but then the shame and ridicule of being discovered in so equivocal asituation, were somewhat more than our discreet landlady could endure.Besides, such an expose might be attended with a loss the good womanvalued more than reputation, viz. lodgers; for the possessors of the twobest floors were both Englishwomen of a certain rank; and my landladyhad heard such accounts of our national virtue, that she feared aninstantaneous emigration of such inveterate prudes, if her screams andsituation reached their ears.
Quietly then, and soberly, did the good lady sit, eyeing the brooms andbrushes as they grew darker and darker with the approach of theevening, and consoling herself with the certainty that her release musteventually take place.
Meanwhile, to return to myself--from which dear little person, Ivery seldom, even in imagination, digress--I found Lord Vincent atGalignani's, carefully looking over "Choice Extracts from the bestEnglish Authors."
"Ah, my good fellow!" said he, "I am delighted to see you; I made sucha capital quotation just now: the young Benningtons were drowning a poordevil of a puppy; the youngest (to whom the mother belonged) looked onwith a grave earnest face, till the last kick was over, and then burstinto tears. 'Why do you cry so?' said I. 'Because it was so cruel in usto drown the poor puppy!' replied the juvenile Philocunos. 'Pooh," saidI, "'Quid juvat errores mersa jam puppe fateri.'" Was it not good?--youremember it in Claudian, eh, Pelham? Think of its being thrown away onthose Latinless young lubbers! Have you seen any thing of Mr. Thorntonlately?"
"No," said I, "I've not, but I am determined to have that pleasuresoon."
"You will do as you please," said Vincent, "but you will be like thechild playing with edged tools."
"I am not a child," said I, "so the simile is not good. He must be thedevil himself, or a Scotchman at least, to take me in."
Vincent shook his head. "Come and dine with me at the Rocher," said he;"we are a party of six--choice spirits all."
"Volontiers; but we can stroll in the Tuileries first, if you have noother engagement."
"None," said Vincent, putting his arm in mine.
As we passed up the Rue de la Paix, we met Sir Henry Millington, mountedon a bay horse, as stiff as himself, and cantering down the street as ifhe and his steed had been cut out of pasteboard together.
"I wish," said Vincent, (to borrow Luttrel's quotation,) "that thatmaster of arts would 'cleanse his bosom of that perilous stuff.' Ishould like to know in what recess of that immense mass now canteringround the corner is the real body of Sir Henry Millington. I could fancythe poor snug little thing shrinking within, like a guilty conscience.Ah, well says Juvenal,
"'Mors sola fatetur Quantula sint hominum corpuscula.'"
"He has a superb head, though," I replied. "I like to allow that otherpeople are handsome now and then--it looks generous."
"Yes," said Vincent, "for a barber's block: but here comes Mrs. C--me,and her beautiful daughter--those are people you ought to know, if youwish to see human nature a little relieved from the frivolities whichmake it in society so like a man milliner. Mrs. C--has considerablegenius, combined with great common sense."
"A rare union," said I.
"By no means," replied Vincent. "It is a cant antithesis in opinion tooppose them to one another; but, so far as mere theoretical commonsense is concerned, I would much sooner apply to a great poet or a greatorator for advice on matter of business, than any dull plodder whohas passed his whole life in a counting-house. Common sense is only amodification of talent--genius is an exaltation of it: the differenceis, therefore, in the degree, not nature. But to return to Mrs. C--; shewrites beautiful poetry--almost impromptu; draws excellent caricatures;possesses a laugh for whatever is ridicu
lous, but never loses a smilefor whatever is good. Placed in very peculiar situations, she has passedthrough each with a grace and credit which make her best eulogium. Ifshe possesses one quality higher than intellect, it is her kindness ofheart: no wonder indeed, that she is so really clever--those trees whichare the soundest at the core produce the finest fruits, and the mostbeautiful blossoms."
"Lord Vincent grows poetical," thought I--"how very different he reallyis to that which he affects to be in the world; but so it is withevery one--we are all like the ancient actors: let our faces be ever sobeautiful, we must still wear a mask."
After an hour's walk, Vincent suddenly recollected that he had acommission of a very important nature in the Rue J. J. Rousseau. Thiswas--to buy a monkey. "It is for Wormwood," said he, "who has written mea long letter, describing its' qualities and qualifications. I supposehe wants it for some practical joke--some embodied bitterness--Godforbid I should thwart him in so charitable a design!"
"Amen," said I; and we proceeded together to the monkey-fancier. Aftermuch deliberation we at last decided upon the most hideous animal I everbeheld--it was of a--no, I will not attempt to describe it--it wouldbe quite impossible! Vincent was so delighted with our choice that heinsisted upon carrying it away immediately.
"Is it quite quiet?" I asked.
"Comme un oiseau," said the man.
We called a fiacre--paid for monsieur Jocko, and drove to Vincent'sapartments; there we found, however, that his valet had gone out andtaken the key.
"Hang it," said Vincent, "it does not signify! We'll carry le petitmonsieur with us to the Rocher."
Accordingly we all three once more entered the fiacre, and drove tothe celebrated restaurateur's of the Rue Mont Orgueil. O, blissfulrecollections of that dinner! how at this moment you crowd upon mydelighted remembrance! Lonely and sorrowful as I now sit, digestingwith many a throe the iron thews of a British beef-steak--moreanglico--immeasurably tough--I see the grateful apparitions ofEscallopes de Saumon and Laitances de Carps rise in a gentle vapourbefore my eyes! breathing a sweet and pleasant odour, and contrastingthe dream-like delicacies of their hue and aspect, with the dire anddure realities which now weigh so heavily on the region below my heart!And thou, most beautiful of all--thou evening star of entremets--thouthat delightest in truffles, and gloriest in a dark cloud ofsauces--exquisite foie-gras!--Have I forgotten thee? Do I not, on thecontrary, see thee--smell thee--taste thee--and almost die with raptureof thy possession? What, though the goose, of which thou art a part,has, indeed, been roasted alive by a slow fire, in order to increasethy divine proportions--yet has not our Almanach--the Almanachdes Gourmands--truly declared that the goose rejoiced amid all hertortures--because of the glory that awaited her? Did she not, inprophetic vision, behold her enlarged and ennobled foie dilate intopates and steam into sautees--the companion of truffles--the gloryof dishes--the delight--the treasure--the transport of gourmands! O,exalted among birds--apotheosised goose, did not thy heart exult evenwhen thy liver parched and swelled within thee, from that most agonizingdeath; and didst thou not, like the Indian at the stake, triumph in thevery torments which alone could render thee illustrious?
After dinner we grew exceedingly merry. Vincent punned and quoted; welaughed and applauded; and our Burgundy went round with an alacrity, towhich every new joke gave an additional impetus. Monsieur Jocko wasby no means the dullest in the party; he cracked his nuts with as muchgrace as we did our jests, and grinned and chatted as facetiously as thebest of us. After coffee we were all so pleased with one another, thatwe resolved not to separate, and accordingly we adjourned to my rooms,Jocko and all, to find new revelries and grow brilliant over Curacoapunch.
We entered my salon with a roar, and set Bedos to work at the punchforthwith. Bedos, that Ganymede of a valet, had himself but justarrived, and was unlocking the door as we entered. We soon blew up aglorious fire, and our spirits brightened in proportion. Monsieur Jockosate on Vincent's knee--Ne monstrum, as he classically termed it. One ofour compotatores was playing with it. Jocko grew suddenly in earnest--agrin--a scratch and a bite, were the work of a moment.
"Ne quid nimis--now," said Vincent, gravely, instead of endeavouring tosoothe the afflicted party, who grew into a towering passion. Nothingbut Jocko's absolute disgrace could indeed have saved his life from thevengeance of the sufferer.
"Where shall we banish him?" said Vincent.
"Oh," I replied, "put him out in that back passage; the outer dooris shut; he'll be quite safe;" and to the passage he was thereforeimmediately consigned.
It was in this place, the reader will remember, that the hapless Dame duChateau was at that very instant in "durance vile." Bedos, who took thecondemned monkey, opened the door, thrust Jocko in, and closed it again.Meanwhile we resumed our merriment.
"Nunc est bibendum," said Vincent, as Bedos placed the punch on thetable. "Give us a toast, Dartmore."
Lord Dartmore was a young man, with tremendous spirits, which made upfor wit. He was just about to reply, when a loud shriek was heard fromJocko's place of banishment: a sort of scramble ensued, and the nextmoment the door was thrown violently open, and in rushed the terrifiedlandlady, screaming like a sea-gull, and bearing Jocko aloft upon hershoulders, from which "bad eminence" he was grinning and chattering withthe fury of fifty devils. She ran twice round the room, and then sunk onthe floor in hysterics. We lost no time in hastening to her assistance;but the warlike Jocko, still sitting upon her, refused to permit oneof us to approach. There he sat, turning from side to side, showing hissharp, white teeth, and uttering from time to time the most menacing anddiabolical sounds.
"What the deuce shall we do?" cried Dartmore.
"Do?" said Vincent, who was convulsed with laughter, and yetendeavouring to speak gravely; "why, watch like L. Opimius, 'ne quidrespublica detrimenti caperet.'"
"By Jove, Pelham, he will scratch out the lady's beaux yeux," cried thegood-natured Dartmore, endeavouring to seize the monkey by the tail, forwhich he very narrowly escaped with an unmutilated visage. But the manwho had before suffered by Jocko's ferocity, and whose breast was stillswelling with revenge, was glad of so favourable an opportunity andexcuse for wreaking it. He seized the poker, made three strides toJocko, who set up an ineffable cry of defiance, and with a singleblow split the skull of the unhappy monkey in twain. It fell with oneconvulsion on the ground, and gave up the ghost.
We then raised the unfortunate landlady, placed her on the sofa, andDartmore administered a plentiful potation of the Curacoa punch. By slowdegrees she revived, gave three most doleful suspirations, and then,starting up, gazed wildly around her. Half of us were still laughing--myunfortunate self among the number; this the enraged landlady no soonerperceived than she imagined herself the victim of some preconcertedvillainy. Her lips trembled with passion--she uttered the most dreadfulimprecations; and had I not retired into a corner, and armed myselfwith the dead body of Jocko, which I wielded with exceeding valour, shemight, with the simple weapons with which nature had provided her hands,have for ever demolished the loves and graces that abide in the face ofHenry Pelham.
When at last she saw that nothing hostile was at present to be effected,she drew herself up, and giving Bedos a tremendous box on the ear, as hestood grinning beside her, marched out of the room.
We then again rallied around the table, more than ever disposed to bebrilliant, and kept up till day break a continued fire of jests uponthe heroine of the passage. "Cum qua (as Vincent observed) claudituradversis innoxia simia fatis!"
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