mother, I don't care if I shake hands with you. I ain't proud!"
The Abbe laughed with great glee; and that very evening sent off to
his Court a most ludicrous spicy description of the whole scene of
meeting between this amiable father and child; in which he said that
young Billings was the eleve favori of M. Kitch, Ecuyer, le bourreau
de Londres, and which made the Duke's mistress laugh so much that
she vowed that the Abbe should have a bishopric on his return: for,
with such store of wisdom, look you, my son, was the world governed
in those days.
The Count and his offspring meanwhile conversed with some
cordiality. The former informed the latter of all the diseases to
which he was subject, his manner of curing them, his great
consideration as chamberlain to the Duke of Bavaria; how he wore his
Court suits, and of a particular powder which he had invented for
the hair; how, when he was seventeen, he had run away with a
canoness, egad! who was afterwards locked up in a convent, and grew
to be sixteen stone in weight; how he remembered the time when
ladies did not wear patches; and how the Duchess of Marlborough
boxed his ears when he was so high, because he wanted to kiss her.
All these important anecdotes took some time in the telling, and
were accompanied by many profound moral remarks; such as, "I can't
abide garlic, nor white-wine, stap me! nor Sauerkraut, though his
Highness eats half a bushel per day. I ate it the first time at
Court; but when they brought it me a second time, I
refused--refused, split me and grill me if I didn't! Everybody
stared; his Highness looked as fierce as a Turk; and that infernal
Krahwinkel (my dear, I did for him afterwards)--that cursed
Krahwinkel, I say, looked as pleased as possible, and whispered to
Countess Fritsch, 'Blitzchen, Frau Grafinn,' says he, 'it's all over
with Galgenstein.' What did I do? I had the entree, and demanded
it. 'Altesse,' says I, falling on one knee, 'I ate no kraut at
dinner to-day. You remarked it: I saw your Highness remark it.'
"'I did, M. le Comte,' said his Highness, gravely.
"I had almost tears in my eyes; but it was necessary to come to a
resolution, you know. 'Sir,' said I, 'I speak with deep grief to
your Highness, who are my benefactor, my friend, my father; but of
this I am resolved, I WILL NEVER EAT SAUERKRAUT MORE: it don't
agree with me. After being laid up for four weeks by the last dish
of Sauerkraut of which I partook, I may say with confidence--IT
DON'T agree with me. By impairing my health, it impairs my
intellect, and weakens my strength; and both I would keep for your
Highness's service.'
"'Tut, tut!' said his Highness. 'Tut, tut, tut!' Those were his
very words.
"'Give me my sword or my pen,' said I. 'Give me my sword or my pen,
and with these Maximilian de Galgenstein is ready to serve you; but
sure,--sure, a great prince will pity the weak health of a faithful
subject, who does not know how to eat Sauerkraut?' His Highness was
walking about the room: I was still on my knees, and stretched
forward my hand to seize his coat.
"'GEHT ZUM TEUFEL, Sir!' said he, in a loud voice (it means 'Go to
the deuce,' my dear),--'Geht zum Teufel, and eat what you like!'
With this he went out of the room abruptly; leaving in my hand one
of his buttons, which I keep to this day. As soon as I was alone,
amazed by his great goodness and bounty, I sobbed aloud--cried like
a child" (the Count's eyes filled and winked at the very
recollection), "and when I went back into the card-room, stepping up
to Krahwinkel, 'Count,' says I, 'who looks foolish now?'--Hey there,
La Rose, give me the diamond-- Yes, that was the very pun I made,
and very good it was thought. 'Krahwinkel,' says I, 'WHO LOOKS
FOOLISH NOW?' and from that day to this I was never at a Court-day
asked to eat Sauerkraut--NEVER!"
"Hey there, La Rose! Bring me that diamond snuff-box in the drawer
of my secretaire;" and the snuff-box was brought. "Look at it, my
dear," said the Count, "for I saw you seemed to doubt. There is the
button--the very one that came off his Grace's coat."
Mr. Billings received it, and twisted it about with a stupid air.
The story had quite mystified him; for he did not dare yet to think
his father was a fool--his respect for the aristocracy prevented
him.
When the Count's communications had ceased, which they did as soon
as the story of the Sauerkraut was finished, a silence of some
minutes ensued. Mr. Billings was trying to comprehend the
circumstances above narrated; his Lordship was exhausted; the
chaplain had quitted the room directly the word Sauerkraut was
mentioned--he knew what was coming. His Lordship looked for some
time at his son; who returned the gaze with his mouth wide open.
"Well," said the Count--"well, sir? What are you sitting there for?
If you have nothing to say, sir, you had better go. I had you here
to amuse me--split me--and not to sit there staring!"
Mr. Billings rose in a fury.
"Hark ye, my lad," said the Count, "tell La Rose to give thee five
guineas, and, ah--come again some morning. A nice well-grown young
lad," mused the Count, as Master Tommy walked wondering out of the
apartment; "a pretty fellow enough, and intelligent too."
"Well, he IS an odd fellow, my father," thought Mr. Billings, as he
walked out, having received the sum offered to him. And he
immediately went to call upon his friend Polly Briggs, from whom he
had separated in the morning.
What was the result of their interview is not at all necessary to
the progress of this history. Having made her, however, acquainted
with the particulars of his visit to his father, he went to his
mother's, and related to her all that had occurred.
Poor thing, she was very differently interested in the issue of it!
CHAPTER X. SHOWING HOW GALGENSTEIN AND MRS. CAT RECOGNISE EACH
OTHER IN MARYLEBONE GARDENS--AND HOW THE COUNT DRIVES HER HOME IN
HIS CARRIAGE.
About a month after the touching conversation above related, there
was given, at Marylebone Gardens, a grand concert and entertainment,
at which the celebrated Madame Amenaide, a dancer of the theatre at
Paris, was to perform, under the patronage of several English and
foreign noblemen; among whom was his Excellency the Bavarian Envoy.
Madame Amenaide was, in fact, no other than the maitresse en titre
of the Monsieur de Galgenstein, who had her a great bargain from the
Duke de Rohan-Chabot at Paris.
It is not our purpose to make a great and learned display here,
otherwise the costumes of the company assembled at this fete might
afford scope for at least half-a-dozen pages of fine writing; and we
might give, if need were, specimens of the very songs and music sung
on the occasion. Does not the Burney collection of music, at the
British Museum, afford one an ample store of songs from which to
choose? Are there not the memoirs of Colley Cibber? those of Mrs.
br />
Clark, the daughter of Colley? Is there not Congreve, and
Farquhar--nay, and at a pinch, the "Dramatic Biography," or even the
Spectator, from which the observant genius might borrow passages,
and construct pretty antiquarian figments? Leave we these trifles
to meaner souls! Our business is not with the breeches and
periwigs, with the hoops and patches, but with the divine hearts of
men, and the passions which agitate them. What need, therefore,
have we to say that on this evening, after the dancing, the music,
and the fireworks, Monsieur de Galgenstein felt the strange and
welcome pangs of appetite, and was picking a cold chicken, along
with some other friends in an arbour--a cold chicken, with an
accompaniment of a bottle of champagne--when he was led to remark
that a very handsome plump little person, in a gorgeous stiff damask
gown and petticoat, was sauntering up and down the walk running
opposite his supping-place, and bestowing continual glances towards
his Excellency. The lady, whoever she was, was in a mask, such as
ladies of high and low fashion wore at public places in those days,
and had a male companion. He was a lad of only seventeen,
marvellously well dressed--indeed, no other than the Count's own
son, Mr. Thomas Billings; who had at length received from his mother
the silver-hilted sword, and the wig, which that affectionate parent
had promised to him.
In the course of the month which had elapsed since the interview
that has been described in the former chapter, Mr. Billings had
several times had occasion to wait on his father; but though he had,
according to her wishes, frequently alluded to the existence of his
mother, the Count had never at any time expressed the slightest wish
to renew his acquaintance with that lady; who, if she had seen him,
had only seen him by stealth.
The fact is, that after Billings had related to her the particulars
of his first meeting with his Excellency; which ended, like many of
the latter visits, in nothing at all; Mrs. Hayes had found some
pressing business, which continually took her to Whitehall, and had
been prowling from day to day about Monsieur de Galgenstein's
lodgings. Four or five times in the week, as his Excellency stepped
into his coach, he might have remarked, had he chosen, a woman in a
black hood, who was looking most eagerly into his eyes: but those
eyes had long since left off the practice of observing; and Madam
Catherine's visits had so far gone for nothing.
On this night, however, inspired by gaiety and drink, the Count had
been amazingly stricken by the gait and ogling of the lady in the
mask. The Reverend O'Flaherty, who was with him, and had observed
the figure in the black cloak, recognised, or thought he recognised,
her. "It is the woman who dogs your Excellency every day," said he.
"She is with that tailor lad who loves to see people hanged--your
Excellency's son, I mean." And he was just about to warn the Count
of a conspiracy evidently made against him, and that the son had
brought, most likely, the mother to play her arts upon him--he was
just about, I say, to show to the Count the folly and danger of
renewing an old liaison with a woman such as he had described Mrs.
Cat to be, when his Excellency, starting up, and interrupting his
ghostly adviser at the very beginning of his sentence, said, "Egad,
l'Abbe, you are right--it IS my son, and a mighty smart-looking
creature with him. Hey! Mr. What's-your-name--Tom, you rogue, don't
you know your own father?" And so saying, and cocking his beaver on
one side, Monsieur de Galgenstein strutted jauntily after Mr.
Billings and the lady.
It was the first time that the Count had formally recognised his
son.
"Tom, you rogue," stopped at this, and the Count came up. He had a
white velvet suit, covered over with stars and orders, a neat modest
wig and bag, and peach-coloured silk-stockings with silver clasps.
The lady in the mask gave a start as his Excellency came forward.
"Law, mother, don't squeege so," said Tom. The poor woman was
trembling in every limb, but she had presence of mind to "squeege"
Tom a great deal harder; and the latter took the hint, I suppose,
and was silent.
The splendid Count came up. Ye gods, how his embroidery glittered
in the lamps! What a royal exhalation of musk and bergamot came
from his wig, his handkerchief, and his grand lace ruffles and
frills! A broad yellow riband passed across his breast, and ended
at his hip in a shining diamond cross--a diamond cross, and a
diamond sword-hilt! Was anything ever seen so beautiful? And might
not a poor woman tremble when such a noble creature drew near to
her, and deigned, from the height of his rank and splendour, to look
down upon her? As Jove came down to Semele in state, in his habits
of ceremony, with all the grand cordons of his orders blazing about
his imperial person--thus dazzling, magnificent, triumphant, the
great Galgenstein descended towards Mrs. Catherine. Her cheeks
glowed red-hot under her coy velvet mask, her heart thumped against
the whalebone prison of her stays. What a delicious storm of vanity
was raging in her bosom! What a rush of long-pent recollections
burst forth at the sound of that enchanting voice!
As you wind up a hundred-guinea chronometer with a twopenny
watch-key--as by means of a dirty wooden plug you set all the waters
of Versailles a-raging, and splashing, and storming--in like manner,
and by like humble agents, were Mrs. Catherine's tumultuous passions
set going. The Count, we have said, slipped up to his son, and
merely saying, "How do, Tom?" cut the young gentleman altogether,
and passing round to the lady's side, said, "Madam, 'tis a charming
evening--egad it is!" She almost fainted: it was the old voice.
There he was, after seventeen years, once more at her side!
Now I know what I could have done. I can turn out a quotation from
Sophocles (by looking to the index) as well as another: I can throw
off a bit of fine writing too, with passion, similes, and a moral at
the end. What, pray, is the last sentence but one but the very
finest writing? Suppose, for example, I had made Maximilian, as he
stood by the side of Catherine, look up towards the clouds, and
exclaim, in the words of the voluptuous Cornelius Nepos,
'Aenaoi nephelai
'Arthoomen phanerai
Droseran phusin euageetoi, k.t.l. *
* Anglicised version of the author's original Greek text.
Or suppose, again, I had said, in a style still more popular:--
The Count advanced towards the maiden. They both were mute for a
while; and only the beating of her heart interrupted that thrilling
and passionate silence. Ah, what years of buried joys and fears,
hopes and disappointments, arose from their graves in the far past,
and in those brief moments flitted before the united ones! How sad
was that delicious retrospect, and oh, how sweet! The tears that
&n
bsp; rolled down the cheek of each were bubbles from the choked and
moss-grown wells of youth; the sigh that heaved each bosom had some
lurking odours in it--memories of the fragrance of boyhood, echoes
of the hymns of the young heart! Thus is it ever--for these blessed
recollections the soul always has a place; and while crime perishes,
and sorrow is forgotten, the beautiful alone is eternal.
"O golden legends, written in the skies!" mused De Galgenstein, "ye
shine as ye did in the olden days! WE change, but YE speak ever the
same language. Gazing in your abysmal depths, the feeble ratioci--"
* * * * *
There, now, are six columns* of the best writing to be found in this
or any other book. Galgenstein has quoted Euripides thrice, Plato
once, Lycophron nine times, besides extracts from the Latin syntax
and the minor Greek poets. Catherine's passionate embreathings are
of the most fashionable order; and I call upon the ingenious critic
of the X---- newspaper to say whether they do not possess the real
impress of the giants of the olden time--the real Platonic smack, in
a word? Not that I want in the least to show off; but it is as
well, every now and then, to show the public what one CAN do.
(* There WERE six columns, as mentioned by the accurate Mr.
Solomons; but we have withdrawn two pages and three-quarters,
because, although our correspondent has been excessively eloquent,
according to custom, we were anxious to come to the facts of the
story.
Mr. Solomons, by sending to our office, may have the cancelled
passages.--O.Y.)
Instead, however, of all this rant and nonsense, how much finer is
the speech that the Count really did make! "It is a very fine
evening,--egad it is!" The "egad" did the whole business: Mrs. Cat
was as much in love with him now as ever she had been; and,
gathering up all her energies, she said, "It is dreadful hot too, I
think;" and with this she made a curtsey.
"Stifling, split me!" added his Excellency. "What do you say,
madam, to a rest in an arbour, and a drink of something cool?"
"Sir!" said the lady, drawing back.
"Oh, a drink--a drink by all means," exclaimed Mr. Billings, who was
troubled with a perpetual thirst. "Come, mo--, Mrs. Jones, I mean.
you're fond of a glass of cold punch, you know; and the rum here is
prime, I can tell you."
The lady in the mask consented with some difficulty to the proposal
of Mr. Billings, and was led by the two gentlemen into an arbour,
where she was seated between them; and some wax-candles being
lighted, punch was brought.
She drank one or two glasses very eagerly, and so did her two
companions; although it was evident to see, from the flushed looks
of both of them, that they had little need of any such stimulus.
The Count, in the midst of his champagne, it must be said, had been
amazingly stricken and scandalised by the appearance of such a youth
as Billings in a public place with a lady under his arm. He was,
the reader will therefore understand, in the moral stage of liquor;
and when he issued out, it was not merely with the intention of
examining Mr. Billings's female companion, but of administering to
him some sound correction for venturing, at his early period of
life, to form any such acquaintances. On joining Billings, his
Excellency's first step was naturally to examine the lady. After
they had been sitting for a while over their punch, he bethought him
of his original purpose, and began to address a number of moral
remarks to his son.
We have already given some specimens of Monsieur de Galgenstein's
sober conversation; and it is hardly necessary to trouble the reader
with any further reports of his speeches. They were intolerably
stupid and dull; as egotistical as his morning lecture had been, and
a hundred times more rambling and prosy. If Cat had been in the