ORLEANS.--HOW TO QUELL A LANDLORD.--HOW TO FIGHT OFF HUMBUGS; AND HOW
TO TRAVEL WITHOUT BAGGAGE.
A tremendous uproar in the hall of a hotel at Orleans awaked every
member of the Dodge Club from the sound and refreshing slumber into
which they had fallen after a fatiguing journey from Paris.
Filing out into the hall one after another they beheld a singular
spectacle.
It was a fat man, bald-headed, middle-aged, with a well-to-do look,
that burst upon their sight.
He was standing in the hall with flushed face and stocking feet,
swearing most frightfully. A crowd of waiters stood around shrugging
their shoulders, and trying to soothe him. As the fat man spoke
English, and the waiters French, there was a little misapprehension.
"There, gentlemen," cried the fat man, as he caught sight of our four
friends, "look at that! What do you call that?"
"That?" said Buttons, taking a paper which the fat man thrust in his
face, "why, that's a hotel bill."
"A hotel bill? Why it's an imposition!" cried the other excitedly.
"Perhaps it is," said Buttons, coolly.
"Of course it is! Read it out loud, and let these gentlemen see what
they think of it."
"I'll read it in English," said Buttons, "for the benefit of the
Club:"
Mister Blank,
To the Hotel du Roi:
One dinner..........3 francs.
Six porters.........6 francs.
One cab.............2 francs.
One do..............2 francs.
One information.....5 francs.
Wine................5 francs.
Tobacco............ 2 francs.
One bed.............5 francs.
One boots...........1 francs.
One candle..........1 francs.
One candle..........1 francs.
One candle..........1 francs.
One candle..........1 francs.
=============================
35 francs.
"By Jove! Thirty-five francs! My dear Sir. I quite agree with you.
It's an imposition."
A deep sigh expressed the relief of the fat man at this mark of
sympathy.
"There's no redress," said Buttons. "You'll have to grin and bear it.
For you must know that in these inland towns hotel-keepers are in
league, offensive and defensive, with all the cab-drivers,
omnibus-drivers, postillions, truckmen, hostlers, porters,
errand-boys, café-keepers, cicerones, tradesmen, lawyers,
chambermaids, doctors, priests, soldiers, gens d'armes, magistrates,
etc., etc., etc. In short, the whole community is a joint-stock
company organized to plunder the unsuspecting traveller."
"And must I stand here and be swindled without a word?" cried the
other.
"By no means. Row like fury. Call up the whole household one by one,
and swear at them in broad Saxon. That's the way to strike terror into
the soul of a Frenchman."
The fat man stared for a moment at Buttons, and then plunging his
hands deep into his trowsers pockets he walked up and down the hall.
At last he turned to the others: "Gentlemen, is this endurable?"
"Horrible!" cried Dick.
"Abominable!" the Doctor.
"Infamous!" the Senator.
"By jingo! I've a great mind to go home. If I've pot to be plundered,
I'd a durned sight rather have my money go to support our own great
and glorious institutions."
There is no doubt that the unfortunate man would have had to pay up if
it bad not been for the energetic action of Buttons.
He summoned the hotel-keeper before him, and closing the door, asked
his friends to sit down.
Then Buttons, standing up, began to repeat to the hotel-keeper,
smilingly, but with extraordinary volubility, Daniel Webster's oration
against Hayne. The polite Frenchman would not interrupt him, but
listened with a bland though somewhat dubious smile.
The Dodge Club did infinite credit to themselves by listening without
a smile to the words of their leader.
Buttons then went through the proposition about the hypothenuse of a
right-angled triangle, and appended the words of a few negro songs.
Here the worthy landlord interrupted him, begging his pardon, and
telling him that he did not understand English very well, and could
his Excellency speak French?
His Excellency, with equal politeness, regretted his want of complete
familiarity with French. He was forced when he felt deeply on any
subject to express himself in English.
Then followed Cicero's oration against Verres, and he was just
beginning a speech of Chatham's when the landlord surrendered at
discretion.
When, after the lapse of three hours and twenty-five minutes, the fat
man held his bill toward him, and Buttons offered five francs, he did
not even remonstrate, but took the money, and hastily receipting the
bill with his pencil, darted from the room.
"Well," exclaimed the Senator, when he had recovered from the effects
of the scene--"I never before realized the truth of a story I once
heard."
"What was the story?"
"Oh, it was about a bet between a Yankee and a Frenchman, who could
talk the longest. The two were shut up in a room. They remained there
three days. At the end of that time their friends broke open the door
and entered, and what do you think they found there?"
"Nobody?" suggested the fat man.
"No," said the Senator, with a glow of patriotic pride on his fine
face. "But they found the Frenchman lying dead upon the floor, and the
Yankee whispering in his ear the beginning of the second part of the
Higgins story."
"And what is the Higgins story?"
"For Heaven's sake," gasped the Doctor, starting up, "don't ask him
now--wait till next week!"
As they passed over the Mountains of Auvergne a new member was added
to the Dodge Club.
It was the fat man.
He was President of a Western bank.
His name was Figgs.
***
It was a damp, dull, dreary, drenching night, when the lumbering
diligence bore the Dodge Club through the streets of Lyons and up to
the door of their hotel. Seventeen men and five small boys stood
bowing ready to receive them.
The Senator, Buttons, and Dick took the small valises which contained
their travelling apparel, and dashed through the line of servitors
into the house. The Doctor walked after, serenely and majestically.
He had no baggage. Mr. Figgs descended from the roof with considerable
difficulty. Slipping from the wheel, he fell into the outstretched
arms of three waiters. They put him on his feet.
His luggage was soon ready.
Mr. Figgs had two trunks and various other articles. Of these trunks
seven waiters took one, and four the other. Then
Waiter No. 12 took hat-box;
Waiter No. 13 took travelling desk;
Waiter No. 14 took Scotch plaid;
Waiter No. 15 took over-coat;
Waiter No. 16 took umbrella;
Waiter No. 17 took rubber coat;
Boy No. 1 took cane;
Boy No. 2 took muffler;
Boy No. 3 took one of his mittens;
Boy No. 4 took the other;
Boy No. 5 took cigar-case.
After a long and laborious dinner they rose and smoked.
[Illustration: Cicero Against Verres.]
[Illustration: Sac-r-r-r-ré.]
The head waiter informed Mr. Figgs that with his permission a
deputation would wait on him. Mr. Figgs was surprised but
graciously invited the deputation to walk in. They accordingly
walked in. Seventeen men and five boys.
"What did they want?"
"Oh, only a _pourboire_ with which to drink his Excellency's
noble health."
"Really they did his Excellency too much honor. Were they not
mistaken in their man?"
"Oh no. They had carried his luggage into the hotel."
Upon this Mr. Figgs gave strong proof of poor moral training, by
breaking out into a volley of Western oaths, which shocked one
half of the deputation, and made the other half grin.
Still they continued respectful but firm, and reiterated their
demand.
Mr. Figgs called for the landlord. That gentleman was in bed.
For his wife. She did not attend to the business. For the head
waiter. The spokesman of the deputation, with a polite bow,
informed him that the head waiter stood before him and was quite
at his service.
The scene was ended by the sudden entrance of Buttons, who,
motioning to Mr. Figgs, proceeded to give each waiter a douceur.
One after another took the proffered coin, and without looking
at it, thanked the generous donor with a profusion of bows.
Five minutes after the retreating form of Buttons had vanished
through the door, twenty-persons, consisting of men and boys,
stood staring at one another in blank amazement.
Anger followed; then
sac-r-r-r-_r-r-r_-R-R-R-_R-Ré_!
He had given each one a _centime_.
But the customs of the hotel were not to be changed by the shabby
conduct of one mean-minded person. When the Club prepared to retire
for the night they were taken to some rooms opening in to each other.
Five waiters led the way; one waiter to each man, and each carried a
pair of tall wax-candles. Mr. Figgs's waiter took him to his room,
laid down the lights, and departed.
The doors which connected the rooms were all opened, and Mr.
Figgs walked through to see about something. He saw the Doctor,
the Senator, Buttons, and Dick, each draw the short, well-used
stump of a wax-candle from his coat pocket and gravely light it.
Then letting the melted wax fall on the mantle-pieces they stuck
their candles there, and in a short time the rooms were
brilliantly illuminated.
The waiters were thunderstruck. Such a procedure had never come
within the compass of their experience of the ways of travellers.
"Bonsoir," said Buttons. "Don't let us detain you."
They went out stupefied.
"What's the idea now?" inquired Mr. Figgs.
"Oh. They charge a franc apiece for each candle, and that is a
swindle which we will not submit to."
"And will I have to be humbugged again?"
"Certainly."
"Botheration."
"My dear Sir, the swindle of bougies is the curse of the
Continental traveller. None of us are particularly prudent, but
we are all on the watch against small swindles, and of them all
this is the most frequent and most insidious, the most constantly
and ever recurrent. Beware, my dear President, of bougies--that's
what we call candles."
Mr. Figgs said nothing, but leaned against the wall for a moment
in a meditative mood, as if debating what he should do next.
He happened to be in the Doctor's room. He had already noticed
that this gentleman had no perceptible baggage, and didn't
understand it.
But now he saw it all.
The Doctor began gravely to make preparations for the night.
Before taking off his over-coat he drew various articles from
the pockets, among which were:
A hair-brush,
A tooth-brush,
A shoe-brush,
A pot of blacking,
A night-shirt,
A clothes-broth,
A pipe,
A pouch of tobacco,
A razor,
A shaving-brush,
A piece of soap,
A night-cap,
A bottle of hair-oil,
A pistol,
A guide-book,
A cigar-case,
A bowie-knife,
A piece of cord,
A handkerchief,
A case of surgical instruments,
Some bits of candles.
Mr. Figgs rushed from the room.
[Illustration: Number 729.]