HOW RUSSELL HAS AN INTERVIEW WITH A MERRY MONARCH.
That same evening Russell was astonished at receiving a fairly
written note, which when opened contained the following in English:
"_The King will graciously pleased to receive Lord Russell this
evening at seven o'clock_."
It was written on simple note-paper, and bore no date. The messenger
who brought it handed it in, and departed without saying a word.
On reading this note, Russell was completely bewildered. Who, he
thought, is the King? Who is Lord Russell? A prolonged meditation
over this could throw no particular light upon it, and at length he
was forced to conclude that he himself was taken for Lord John
Russell, that famous English statesman whose name is known over the
civilized world. It was a mistake, yet, as he complacently thought,
not, after all, an unnatural one. By long familiarity with the
British aristocracy (in the capacity of tailor) he had perhaps
unconsciously their lofty sentiments and caught up their aristocratic
tone and bearing. In person he felt that he had rather the advantage
of Lord John. His name had, of course, something to do with the
mistake. All these things had combined to give his captors the
impression that he was a British peer.
But who was "the King?" The Queen of Spain would be the ex-Queen; the
last King of Spain was now the ex-King Amadeus; but "the King"--who
was he? At length it flashed upon Russell that "the King" could mean
no other than the celebrated personage who claimed for himself that
title, and who was known to the world as Don Carloa. This, then, was
the illustrious personage with whom he was shortly to have an
interview.
It must be confessed that, in spite of his long association with the
British aristocracy, the bosom of the valiant Russell heaved with
strange emotions, and his heart quaked with unusual throes, at the
prospect of this interview. As his host claimed to be "King," he
would naturally expect to be treated as such. But how would that be?
Of the etiquette of courts Russell had no knowledge whatever. From
French novels which he had read he had a vague idea that people said
"Sire" when addressing majesty, and got on their knees to kiss royal
hands when first introduced. But farther than this our good Russell's
knowledge did not lead him, nor was his imagination able to convey
him. He could only conjecture in the vaguest possible way, and wait
as patiently as possible for the hour of the momentous interview.
The appointed time arrived. He was waited on by six men: all were
armed. Russell felt an involuntary trepidation at this sight, which
reminded him of events, in his reading, where armed men came in this
way to lead some wretched prisoner off to execution. However, he
succeeded in plucking up his courage sufficiently to follow them. His
own attire, certainly, did not a little toward inspiring him with
fortitude, and the brilliant uniform of a general officer with golden
epaulettes, gold stripes, gold buttons, gold lace, gold hatband, gold
collar, gorgeous hat, resplendent feathers, and rattling, clanking
sword, all served to stimulate him and rouse him to the heroic mood.
He was led by the men to the grand hall in which he had been before.
Here, around the sides, were gathered a large number of men, all
armed, and, though ill-dressed, still presenting a very impressive
appearance. In the middle of the hall was a table on which a dinner
was spread. All around a hundred torches flared and flamed, and from
them vast clouds of pitchy smoke rolled aloft into the vaulted
ceiling. At one end there was a raised seat, and on that raised seat
there was a figure clothed in a military garb and infolded in a
military cloak. Toward this figure Russell was led.
Now, Russell was so overawed by the wild scene, by the armed men,
and, above all, by the thought of the royal presence and the royal
eye, that he dared not look up, but kept his eyes humbly on the
floor, and in this way advanced. On reaching the aforesaid figure our
Russell fell upon his knees, and seizing the hand of said figure,
proceeded to kiss it with much vigor, when suddenly a familiar voice
sounded in his ears, and looking up, he felt like Lalla Rookh at the
discovery of Feramorz, for he found that this royal personage was
none other than the Carlist chief.
"Rise, me lord," said the well-known voice. "We are glad to recayve
ye in our r'y'l prisince. We cud give ye betther intertainmint in our
r'y'l palace av the Escurial, only thim thayves av rebels won't let
us. But we can maintain our state here in these sayquesthered
mountains, an', begorra, we have a throne in the hearts av a bowld
pisintry."
By this time Russell had risen to his feet, and stood there bowing
over and over again.
"His Majesty" rose.
"I'm not overfond," said he, "me lord, av state etiquette, though our
ancistors were divils av fellers at it. What I loike is a good
dinner, an' a glass av somethin' warrum, an' a pipe afther all. Ye've
heard the owld song:
"'Oh, a taste av salt an' a plante av praties,
An a dhrop av whiskey to wash thim down,
An' a tasty dhuidheen to help digistion--
That's the fashion in Limerick town.'"
It had already caused some surprise to Russell that a Spanish
chieftain should speak English with the Irish accent; but now to find
one who claimed to be the King of Spain lightly trolling an Irish
ditty to a rollicking tune was, to say the least, just a little
unusual. It occurred to him, however, that "His Majesty" must have
learned his English from an Irishman; and further thought showed him
that such a fact was perfectly natural, since, being a Catholic, he
had of course employed a Catholic tutor, who was almost certain to be
an Irishman. Which conclusion led to another, namely, that the
Catholic princes and nobles of Europe, including the Pope himself and
the College of Cardinals, if they speak English at all, speak it with
more or less of an Irish brogue.
"His Majesty" now led the way to the table, inviting Russell to
follow. There Russell beheld a tempting repast, whose savory steam
penetrated through his nostrils to that heart of hearts--that
_corcordium_ which lieth behind all sense, filling it with wild
longings. He saw roast capons, obtained from Heaven knows where; rich
odoriferous _olla podrida_, and various kinds of game. There was
aromatic coffee; there were steaming meat-pies, in which was
perceptible the scent of truffles; while modestly, yet
all-pervadingly, like the perfume of mignonette in a garden of a
thousand flowers, or like the influence of one good man in a
community of worldlings, or like the song of the poet in a hard,
prosaic age, there was wafted to his senses the steam of fat upland
mushrooms.
These two had that banquet all to themselves--namely, "His Majesty"
and "Lord" Russell.
"Me lord," said "His Majesty," "is anything wanting? Tell us. Yer
wish shall be gratified. Does ye wish for music? A piper an' a
fiddler too are both convaynient, an', begorra, thim fellers can bate
out-an'-out all the pipers an' fiddlers this side av the Bay av
Biscay. They're both Irishmen, so they are, an' they're our sworn
body-gyard, an' there ye have it. But, man, ye're not dhrinkin'. What
'il ye have? Here's port from Oporto--pure--none av yer vile Saxon
compounds; likewise here's sherry from Xeres. Here's marsala an'
maraschino. Here's champagne an' cognac. Here's also whiskey. What
d'ye say, me lord? Is it whiskey? Divil a doubt! I knowed
it--begorra, I knowed it by the twinkle av yer eye. Thrust to me for
findin' that out; sure it's meself that can tell a conjaynial spirit,
so it is."
Hereupon "His Majesty" began to brew a tumbler of toddy. Russell, who
was an experienced hand, gazed upon the royal proceedings with a
critical eye, but found nothing wanting. The royal hand was as
experienced as his own. The drink that resulted was equal, to say the
least of it, to anything that had ever touched his palate. He tasted,
and felt like a new man. He tasted again, and all his sorrows
vanished. He tasted for a third time, and there came over him a
feeling of peace, and content, and brotherly love to all mankind.
"His Majesty" had also been tasting, and with every taste the royal
mind seemed to assume a new phase.
"In our coort," said "His Majesty," "as at prisint constichooted, we
cannot offer the injuicemints that are held forth at Vienna, Berlin,
an' St. Paytersburg; but we can furnish some lads that can bate the
worruld. I'd like to howld a coort an' have the ladies. We'd have a
ball. Oh, but it's meself that's fond av dancin'. Do ye dance, me
lord? Sure but there's nothiu' in life like it! An' more's the pity
that I can't get here the craim av our Spanish aristocracy. But we're
too far away entirely. As for dancin'--begorra, I've seen dancin' in
my time that 'ud take yer head off!
"'Oh, it bates all the illigant dancin'
That iver was danced at a ball,
Whin Teddy came out to the crowd,
And danced upon nothin' at all--
Wid a himpin cravat round his neck
That the hangman had fixed on his head;
An' so he kept kickin' an' prancin'
Long afher he ought to be dead.
Whoor-ooo-ooo!'"
As "His Majesty" trolled out this, Russell could not help feeling
that it was decidedly out of accord with his royal character, and
ventured even to hint as much. Upon this tears started into the royal
eye. "His Majesty" took Russell's hand, telling him, with deep
emotion, that he was a true friend, and that he would strive to
profit by his friendship.
"An' oh, ye thafe of the worrulil," continued "His Majesty," suddenly
changing the conversation, "ye've played the mischief wid thim bonds.
Where have ye hid thim, ye rogue? But niver mind. I'll be ayvin wid
ye yit. How much are they? Thirty thousand pounds! Begorra, I'll give
ye that amount for thim. I'd like to take up thim bonds for the
credit av our monarchy an' our kingdom. I'll tell ye what I'll do.
I'll give ye an ordher on our lord high treasurer for the whole
amount in cash! That's what I'll do, so I will. Ye naydn't give
yerself any more throuble. I'll give ye the hard cash through the
lord high treasurer--that's me way. I'll do it!"
"His Majesty" here mixed another glass of toddy. After a few draughts
he assumed a more dignified attitude.
"Me lord," said he, "I should like to ask ye now, quite infarrumally,
what there is to prayvint a raycognition by your governmint av our
claims an' our rights. We are winnin' our way back to the throne an'
crown av our ancistors. A lawless mob howlds our capital, but they'll
be kicked out afore a month av Sundays. I should like to make a
frindly agraymint through you, me lord, wid your government. Whin I
git to be king, I agray to cling to an alliance offinsive an'
dayfinsive wid your governmint. There's one common inimy, the
raypublic av America, an' it's ayqually hostile to both av us. We, as
sole repraysintative av Conservatism an' the owld proimayval order,
will ally ourselves wid you agin the common inimy for paice an' for
war. What do ye say to that? Begorra, it's a fine offer intoircly!
Ye'll not find another livin' potentate that 'll make it. Bismarck
won't. M'Mahon--Irishman though he is--won't. The Czar won't. Franz
Joseph won't. So there's only us. If ye don't accept our proposals
we'll go over to the inimy. We'll buy President Grant. We'll make a
dayscint on Ireland. I know a man that 'ud be proud to take command
av the invadin' armies. His name's O'Toole, that's now in the Carlist
camp, an' a divil av a feller he is. He'd sweep Ireland from one ind
av it to the other. Give me O'Toole, says I, an' I'll bate the
worruld in arrums, says I. Begorra, I would. An' now fill yer glass,
me boy."
"His Majesty" mixed another tumbler for Russell.
"Drink, me lord," said he, "to the fairest av the fair."
And with these words he swallowed another tumblerful, while Russell
did the same.
"By 'the fairest av the fair,'" explained "His Majesty," as he
proceeded to mix another drink, "I mean yer daughter--the pairless
Lady Katie."
"My ward, 'Your Majesty,'" said Russell, correcting him.
"All the same, me lord," said "His Majesty;" "it was a slip av the
tongue. It was me heart that spoke. Listen to me now. I've somethin'
to tell ye. It's a proposal."
"His Majesty" paused for a moment, then took a fresh drink, then laid
down the glass, then sighed heavily, and then took another drink.
"Me lord," said he, in a solemn tone, "ye know, no doubt, that we are
a bachelor. Ye don't know it? Well, we are. I say, we are a bachelor.
We've been lookin' all around for ages afther a partner--a r'y'l
consort. All the iligible faymales av all the coorts av Europe have
been solicitin' our alliance. But none av thim wor shuitable. No.
Without love, we won't marry--we won't adopt the infernal system ay
state marriages. Where our heart isn't concerned our r'y'l hand don't
go--not a bit av it. Now, we niver saw the woman yet that we'd be
willin' to raise to the throne av Spain ontil we saw yer ward--the
lovely, the charrumin, the baywitchin' Lady Katie. Nay, me lord,
start not, an' don't suspect us av onjue praycipitation. We haven't
addhressed the Lady Katie yet on that point. We've acted in
accardence wid r'y'l usage, an' now make a farrumal offer av our
alliance to the parents an' gyarjians av the lovely being. What do ye
say, me lord? Will ye give yer consint to our proposal, an' allow yer
ward to become the Quane av Spain?"
At this Russell was quite overwhelmed. He had listened with open
mouth to this last address of "His Majesty," and at length, when it
all culminated in this direct and unmistakable proposal, he was so
astounded that he didn't know what to say. He therefore sat silent
and staring with open mouth, until at length, not knowing anything
better to do, he mechanically raised the tumbler of toddy and poured
the whole of it into that open mouth.
"That's right!" exclaimed "His Majesty," heartily, and he at once
began to replenish the empty glasses; "an' mind you, me boy, it's as
much for your intherest, me lord, as it is for hers. It's a great
thing for a young gyerrel to become the Quane av Spain; an' as for
yerself, why, av coorse there's no ind to the honors an' dignities
an' lucrative offices that ye'd be afther gettin' howld av. Ye'd be a
kind av father-in-law to the Quane. Ye'd be made Ministher av War or
anythin' else ye axed for. Ye'd be made a Juke av Gibraltar an'
Prince av the Pyrenees. Ye'd belong to the Privy Council. Ye'd be the
chief adviser av our r'y'l Majesty--that's me, ye know; an' av coorse
it isn't every day that ye have such a chance as that."
[Illustration: "Russell Fell Upon His Knees."]
[Illustration: "These Two Had That Banquet All To Themselves."]
"His Majesty" paused for a reply.
Russell stared fixedly before him into vacancy, but uttered not a
word. Either the high honor that had been proposed, or the brilliant
future that had been laid open, or else the whiskey toddy, or all
three combined, had overcome him utterly; and so he sat there staring
and silent.
"Sure, I know what yer thinkin' about," said "His Majesty." "There's
only one objection, an' that's religion. But that's nothin'," he
continued, with airy and pagan indifference; "we can arrange all that
aisy enough. Love's stronger than religion any day. Ye know the owld
song."
And "His Majesty" trolled out one of his peculiar melodies:
"There was a Ballyshannon spinster
That fell in love wid a Prodes'an' min'ster;
But the praste refused to publish the banns,
So they both ran away to the Mussulmans."
After this "His Majesty" went on in a rapturous way to expatiate upon
the subject of Katie, and in this way the remainder of the evening
was taken up. Russell said but little: what he said was chiefly an
incoherent jumble which expressed with tears of gratitude a full
acceptance of "His Majesty's" offer. At the same time he was able to
point out that in England it was the fashion to consult the lady
herself, and to insist that "His Majesty" should see Katie herself,
so as to get her consent.
And this "His Majesty" swore that he would do.