I entitle him as self-pronounced. If "Mr." is the Grand-Hôtel Jupiter,
the Head-Waiter is its Mercury. Nothing modern is so versatile as
the Head-Waiter. The first thing about the Head-Waiter is his cigars.
These are covered with tinsel and colours: very gay--almost as gay as
the Head-Waiter. They are of unpronounceable and unknown brands. They
vary in price and size, but agree in flavour--liquorice, tempered by
ink. Like the fabled fruit, they crumble to ashes in your mouth. If
you are only a bird of passage, you will often find a box or so in
your room. "Great opportunity--veritable Pestarenas of Nockudaun--one
whole box for a sovereign English," the Head-Waiter assures you. The
memory of that man is astounding; he remembers all the numbers, all
the wines, all the names, and all the Lady's-maids. For he is a bit
of a _Leporello_, is the Head-Waiter.
[Illustration: "One whole box for a sovereign English."]
After dinner, where he takes a dozen orders, makes a dozen
recommendations, and tells a dozen lies at once, you may see him
philandering by the Lake with MARY ANN, JEANETTE, and KLARA, all
jealous, and all adoring, teaching each the language of the other, and
all the art of love. I have often envied him. The Head-Waiter's life
is a "happy one." He is ubiquitous; Egypt, The Riviera, Switzerland,
and Italy, see him by turns; in each he has a white waistcoat,
of which Mr. CHAMBERLAIN might be proud, infinite occupation, and
infinite diversion; his nimbleness, his light-heartedness, his
languages, and his cigars, are inexhaustible.
How we besiege him in the morning! "Luncheon, ADOLF, for a party
of seven, in a basket--a _nice_ basket, you know--and don't forget
the corkscrew." "Yes, yes, I know--and you take the bottle-bier--it
is much better nor the warne. Ha! Ha!" What a laugh!--a roguish,
child-like merriment of a Greek-godlike character--or want of it.
Old Ladies talk to him quite trustingly at first sight; it's "ADOLF,
_have_ you such a thing as a bottle of gum--_gummi_, gum, you
understand"; or, "_Could_ you get me another cushion"? He can, and
does. As for the children, they love him; he romps with them, and does
conjuring tricks, and warbles innumerable songs. That man gets through
more in one day than the Prime Minister of England--and, between you
and me, I believe he is fully as capable--and yet he finds time to
write a letter to his old mother at Hamburg--I have seen him do it.
Perhaps it was about the cigars! The only people who hate ADOLF are
the Under-Waiters; he rules them with a rod of iron, marshalling their
heated battalions at _table d'hôte_, and plundering them of their
sweethearts; if he breaks anything (hearts included), it is they who
have to pay. It is ADOLF's only weakness--he is a bully to underlings
of his own trade. But then he has been an Under-Waiter once himself,
and suffering brutalises; however, he is outside the sphere of
morality, and I could pardon him almost anything.
From time to time his fascinations induce an Englishman or
Englishwoman to take this treasure home as a servant. But ADOLF in
livery, and ADOLF with his magic order-book, are two very different
people. Little things are missing; he becomes quarrelsome; the
gipsy-spirit returns--and he is off again, blithe as ever, on his
travels. "London very naice," he says, as you buy that infernal
Pestarena; "Porebier, very naise; 'Ampton Court, very naise; I know
dem, hein? But, is no sunshine, no air, no gaiety." And ADOLF cannot
exist without sunshine, air, and gaiety. Also he prefers being his own
master, which, as Head-Waiter, he practically is.
How insinuating he is about the food, "Some naice fishes? Dey was
laiving dis morning." And then, how accommodating! I was once in the
Grand Hôtel during the usual "exceptional season," when it rained
unintermittently for a fortnight; the place was empty; "tristeful,"
as ADOLF styled it. The genius played billiards with me every day, and
always won, though I rather fancy myself; and then how mindful he is
of your individual bettings. "I gif you dis place by de window--_to do
you joy_!" he ejaculates. The simple creature, he is constantly trying
to "make you please."
I always present ADOLF with ten shillings--five on arrival, and five
on departure. This procures me many harmless little privileges; and
when old BROWN calls him an impertinent brute, I know that BROWN and
ten shillings are difficult to part.
There is nothing ADOLF will not do for you for a sovereign--but I
cannot run to this; and yet this is the impression he has made.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A LITTLE VAGUE!
_Affable Landlady_ (_to her new Artist Lodger_), "AND I SUPPOSE, SIR,
YOU COMES FROM ABROAD!"
_Foreign Lodger_. "SO! I GOME VROM AUSTRIA."
_A.L._ "DO YOU HINDEED, SIR? FROM HOSTRIA! AH! HOW THAT'S WHERE THE
HOSTRICHES COMES FROM, I SUPPOSE?!!"]
* * * * *