I knew not myself how I had been led to speak so freely on the subject,
never having till now thought of gaming or its consequences; but the
words, as on former occasions, seemed to be prompted for me by some
invisible power, after whom I only repeated them. However this might be,
I believed that I had now lost the favour of the Prince, and with it,
the right of appearing on any future occasion within the walls of his
palace.
In this belief, however, I was mistaken, for, on the same day, I
received a card inviting me to a concert; and the Prince, whom I once
more met in the park, said, _en passant_, with much politeness, "Good
evening, Mr Leonard! You are to be with us to-night, and it is to be
hoped that my _capelle_ may gain some credit, and please you better than
my park and my pharo-table have done."
The music was indeed very commendable. All was performed with great
accuracy; but, at the same time, the pieces appeared to me not well
chosen; for one destroyed, by contrast, the effect of the other; and,
especially, there was one long act, which seemed to have been got up
with particular care, and which, nevertheless, produced in me a hearty
fit of _ennui_.
I took good care not to express my opinion audibly; and in this respect
acted, for once, with prudence, as I was afterwards informed that this
same long act, or scene, was one of the Prince's own composition.
When the music had concluded, I found myself unawares in the innermost
circles of the court, and would have been willing even to take a hand at
pharo, in order to reconcile myself wholly with the Prince. But, on
entering the room where pharo had been played, I was not a little
surprised to find no preparations for that game. On the contrary, small
parties were seated at ordinary tables, over hands of Boston-whist,
while the rest of the company kept up lively conversation. Even a
regular course of story-telling was introduced. Old bon-mots were
revived, and fresh anecdotes attentively listened to, provided they
were agreeably delivered, even though not intrinsically of much
importance.
Here my old gifts of loquacity and eloquence came opportunely to my aid;
and, under the guise of romantic and poetical legends, I contrived to
narrate many events out of my own life.
Thus I attracted attention and won applause from many listeners. The
Prince, however, liked best whatever was cheerful and humorous; in which
respects, the physician was not to be equalled. He was indeed
inexhaustible.
This kind of pastime was at last carried so far, that individuals were
chosen to read from their own MS. compositions, whatever they considered
best suited for the present society. A kind of regular _esthetical_ club
was thus formed, where the Prince presided, and every one contributed as
he best could. Among the rest, there was a certain professor from the
_gymnasium_, who chose to read a very long paper on some new
discoveries; and precisely in proportion as the few who knew anything
about his science were interested and delighted, the others were
_ennuyes_ and restless. Among this majority was the Prince, who was
evidently rejoiced when the physician very judiciously seized this time
to introduce one of his stories, which, if not very original and witty
in themselves, yet, from the drollery of his manner, were irresistible,
and had at least a _naivete_ and facility which were highly acceptable,
after the tiresome lecture of the professor.
"Your highness knows," said the physician, turning to the Prince, "that
I never failed, when on my travels, to enter into my memorandum-book,
portraits (in writing I mean) of all the strange characters and odd
adventurers that fell in my way; and from this journal I am now about to
repeat some notices to which I have hitherto not alluded, on account of
their being perhaps too common-place, yet they seem to me not altogether
undiverting.
"On my way home, about a year ago, I came to a large handsome village,
about four German miles from Berlin; and being much fatigued, resolved
to rest there, instead of going on to the capital. The landlord directly
shewed me to a good room, where, after supper, I threw myself into bed,
and directly fell asleep. About one in the morning, however, I was
suddenly awoke by a noise, which, assimilating with a fearful dream
with which I had just then been haunted, I imagined to be either the
shrieking of an owl at the window, or the cries of a person in distress,
for I had dreamed of both.
"It was, however, the sound of a German flute, which proceeded from a
room very near me; but in my whole life, before or since, I have never
heard such an attempt at music. The man must have had monstrous and
gigantic powers of lungs; for in one loud shrill cutting key, he went on
without mercy, so that the character of the instrument was perfectly
annihilated. What added, if possible, to this enormity, was, that he
blew everlastingly the same identical passage over and over, not
granting me the slightest relief, by an endeavour at a tune, so that
nothing could be conceived more abominable.
"I raved at, cursed, and abused this infernal musician, who so cruelly
deprived me of needful rest, and by whom my ears were so barbarously
outraged; but, like a wound-up piece of clock-work, the diabolical flute
continued to utter the same notes over and over, until I thought the
devil himself must be the player, for no one else could have had
physical strength to hold out so long. At last I heard something thrown
with great violence, and a loud crack, against the wainscot; after which
there was dead silence, and I could for the rest of the night sleep in
peace.
"In the morning I heard a great noise of quarrelling and scolding in the
lower floor of the house. In the _row_ I could now and then distinguish
the voice of mine host, who was scarcely allowed, however, to throw in a
word, by a man who roared without ceasing, in broken German--'May your
house be damned! Would that I had never been so unlucky as to cross the
threshold! The devil himself must have brought me hither, where one can
neither drink, eat, nor enjoy himself--where everything is infamously
bad, and dog dear. There, sir, you have your money; and as for your
rascally gin-shop, you shall never more see me again within its walls!'
"Having just then finished my toilet, I was in time to behold the author
of all this disturbance. He was a little, withered man, in a
coffee-brown coat, and a round _fox-red_ wig, on which, with a martial
air of defiance, he stuck a little grey hat; then ran out of the house
towards the stable, from which I soon afterwards saw him re-appear, with
a horse fully as odd-looking as himself, on which he mounted, and, at a
heavy, awkward gallop, rode off the field.
"Of course I supposed he was like myself, an entire stranger, who had
quarrelled with the landlord, and had now taken his final departure. I
dismissed him, therefore, from my thoughts; but, at dinner-time, (having
been induced to remain another day at the village,) how I was surprised,
on taking my place at the _table d'Hote_, to perceive the same absurd
coffee-brown figure, with the fox-red wig, who, without ceremony, drew
in his chair opposite to mine!
"He had one of the ugliest, and most laughable visages that I had ever
beheld. In his whole demeanour, there was a kind of grave and solemn
absurdity that was irresistible. During dinner, I kept up a monosyllabic
dialogue with my host, while the stranger continued to eat voraciously,
and took no notice whatever of any one.
"At last, the innkeeper, with a sly wink at me, led the discourse to
national peculiarities, and asked me, whether I had ever been
acquainted with an Irishman, or knew what was meant by Irish bulls, for
which that country was celebrated? 'Unquestionably,' said I; 'I have
heard many such;' and a whole string of these blunders came at once into
my head. I then told the story of the Irishman, who, when asked why he
wore stockings with the wrong side out, answered, 'Because there was a
hole in the other side;'--of the still better anecdote of another
disciple of St Patrick, who was sleeping in the same bed with a choleric
Scotch Highlander. An English wag, who was lodged in the same room, by
way of a practical joke, took one of the Irishman's spurs, and,
perceiving that he wast fast asleep, buckled it on his heel. Soon after,
the Irishman happening to turn round, tore the Scotchman's legs with his
spur; whereupon the latter, in great wrath, gave his companion a violent
box on the ear, and the Englishman had the satisfaction of hearing
betwixt them the following ingenious discourse:--
"'What devil,' said the Irishman, 'has got possession of you? and why
are you beating me?'--'Because,' said the other, 'you have torn me with
your spurs.'--'How is that possible? I took off my clothes.'--'And yet
it is so--see only here.'--'Damnation!--you are in the right. The
rascally waiter has pulled off my boots, but left on the spurs!'
"The story, however old, was new to the innkeeper, who broke out into
immoderate laughter; but the stranger, who had now wound up his dinner
with a great draught of beer from a glass as high as a church tower,
looked at me gravely, and said--'You have spoken well, sir. The Irishmen
certainly do make these bulls; but this by no means depends on the
character of the people, who are ingenious and witty, but on the cursed
air of that damp country, which infects one with them, as with coughs
and catarrhs. I myself, sir, am an Englishman, though born and bred in
Ireland, and therefore am, on that account, subjected to the vile
propensity of making bulls.'
"Hereupon the innkeeper laughed more and more, and I was obliged to join
him heartily, for it was delightful that the Irishman, gravely lecturing
on bulls, should _unconsciously_ give us one of the very best as a
specimen.
"The stranger seemed not in the least offended by our laughing. 'In
England,' said he, with his finger on his nose, and dilating _his_
eyes--'in England, the Irishmen are like strong spices added to society
to render it tasteful. I am myself, in one respect, like Falstaff; I am
not only witty in myself, but the cause of wit in others, which, in
these times, is no slight accomplishment. Could you suppose it possible,
that in the empty leathern brain of this innkeeper, wit, generated by
me, is now and then roused? But mine host is, in this respect, a prudent
man. He takes care not to draw on the small capital that he possesses of
his own, but lends out a thought now and then at interest, when he finds
himself in the society of the rich!'
"With these words, the little original rose and left us. I immediately
begged the innkeeper to give me something of his history.
"'This Irishman,' said mine host, 'whose name is Ewson, and who, on that
account, will have himself to be an Englishman, has now been here for
the short period of twenty-two years! As a young man, I had just set up
in the world, purchased a lease of this inn, and it happened to be on my
wedding-day when Mr Ewson first arrived among us. He was then a youth,
but wore his fox-red wig, his grey hat, and coffee-brown coat, exactly
as you saw him to-day. He then seemed to be travelling in great haste,
and said that he was on his return to his own country; however, hearing
the band of music which played at my wedding feast, he was so much
delighted with it, that he came into the house and insisted on making
one of the party.
"'Hereupon, though he approved our music, yet he swore that it was only
on board an English war ship that people knew how to dance; and to prove
his assertion, gave us a hornpipe, whistling to it all the while most
horribly through his teeth, fell down, dislocated his ancle, and was, of
course, obliged to remain with us till it was cured.
"'Since that time he has never left my house, though I have had enough
to do with his peculiarities. Every day through these twenty-two years,
he has quarrelled with me. He despises my mode of life, complains that
my bills are over-charged; that he cannot live any longer without
roast-beef and porter; packs up his portmanteau, with his three red wigs
one above the other, mounts an old broken-winded horse, and rides away.
"'This, however, turns out nothing more than a ride for exercise; for at
dinner-time he comes in at the other end of the town, and in due time
makes his appearance at my table, eating as much of the despised dishes
as might serve for any three men!
"'Once every year he receives from his own country a valuable bank-bill.
Then, with an air of the deepest melancholy, he bids me farewell, calls
me his best friend, and sheds tears, which I do also; but with me they
are tears of laughter. After having, by his own account, made his will,
and provided a fortune for my eldest daughter, he rides away slowly and
pensively, so that the first time I believed he certainly was gone for
good and all.
"'His journey, however, is only four German miles, viz. into the
_residenz_, from whence he never fails to return on the third or fourth
day, bringing with him two new coffee-brown coats, six new shirts, three
wigs, all of the same staring and frightful red, a new grey hat, and
other requisites for his wardrobe; finally, to my eldest daughter,
though she is now eighteen, a paper of sugar-plums.
"'He then thinks no more either of residing in the capital, nor of his
homeward journey. His afternoon expenses are paid every night, and his
money for breakfast is thrown angrily at my head every morning.
"'At other times, however, he is the best-tempered man in the world. He
gives presents every holiday to all my children, and in the village has
done much real good among the poor; only, he cannot bear the priest,
because he learned from the schoolmaster that the former had changed a
gold piece that Mr Ewson had put into the box, and given it out in
copper pennies! Since that time, he avoids him on all occasions, and
never goes to church, and the priest calls him an atheist.
"'As before said, however, I have often trouble enough with his temper.
On coming home just yesterday, I heard a great noise in the house, and a
voice in furious wrath, which I knew to be Ewson's. Accordingly I found
him in vehement altercation with the house-maid. He had, as usual with
him, thrown away his wig, and was standing bald-pated in his
shirt-sleeves before her, and holding a great book under her nose,
wherein he obstinately pointed at something with his finger. The maid
stuck her hands in her sides, told him he might get somebody else to
play his tricks upon, that he was a bad wicked man, who believed in
nothing, etc. etc. etc.
"'With considerable difficulty I succeeded in parting the disputants,
and bringing the matter under arbitration. Mr Ewson had desired the maid
to bring him a wafer to seal a letter. The girl never having written or
sealed a letter in her life, at first did not in the least understand
him. At last it occurred to her that the wafers he spoke of were those
used at mass, and thought Mr E. wanted to mock at religion, because the
priest had said he was an atheist. She therefore refused to obey him.
Hereupon he had recourse to the dictionary, and at last got into such a
rage, that he spoke nothing but English, which she imagined was
gibberish of the devil's own inspiration. Only my coming in prevented a
personal encounter, in which probably Mr Ewson would have come off with
the worst.'
"I here interrupted mine host with the question, 'Whether it was Mr
Ewson also who tormented me so much in the night with his
flute-playing?' 'Alas! sir,' said he, 'that is another of his
eccentricities, by which he frightens away all my night-lodgers. Three
years ago one of my sons came on a visit here from the _residenz_. He
plays well on the flute, and practises a good deal. Then, by evil
chance, it occurred to Mr Ewson that he had also in former days learned
to blow the flute, and never gave over till he prevailed on my son to
sell him his instrument for a good round sum, and also a difficult
concerto which he had brought with him from town.
"'Thereafter Mr Ewson, who has not the slightest pretensions to a
musical ear, began with furious zeal to blow at this concerto. He came,
however, only to the second solo of the first allegro. There he met with
a passage which he could by no possible means bring out; and this one
passage he has now blown at, through these three years, about a hundred
times per day, till at last, in the utmost rage, he throws his flute and
wig together against the wall.
"'As few instruments can long hold out against such treatment, he
therefore frequently gets a new one, and has indeed three or four in use
at the same time. If any of them exhibits the smallest flaw in one of
the keys or joinings, then, with a 'God d--n me, it is only in England
that musical instruments can be made!' he throws it out of the window.
"'What is worst of all, however, is, that this passion for blowing the
flute of his, seizes him in the night, and he then never fails to diddle
all my guests out of their first sleep.
"'Could you believe it, however, that there is in our town another
foreigner, an Englishman, by name Doctor Green, who has been in the
house of the _Amtmann_ about as long as Mr Ewson has lived with me, and
that the one is just as absurd an original as the other? These two are
constantly quarrelling, and yet without each other could not live. It
has just now occurred to me that Mr Ewson has, for this evening, ordered
a bowl of punch at my house, to which he has invited Doctor Green. If,
sir, you choose to stay here till to-morrow, you will see the most
absurd trio that this whole world could afford.'