“Don't keep a place for me at the _table d'hôte_ to-day, Kramm,” said I,
in an easy carelessness; “I dine with his Excellency. I could n't well
get off the first day, but tomorrow I promise you to pronounce upon your
good cheer.”
I suppose I am not the first man who has derived consequence from the
invitation it had cost him misery to accept. How many in this world
of snobbery have felt that the one sole recompense for long nights of
_ennui_ was the fact that their names figured amongst the distinguished
guests in the next day's “Post”?
“It is not a grand dinner to-day, is it?” asked Kramm.
“No, no, merely a family party; we are very old chums, and have much to
talk over.”
“You will then go in plain black, and with nothing but your
'decorations.'”
“I will wear none,” said I, “none; not even a ribbon.” And I turned away
to hide the shame and mortification his suggestion had provoked.
Punctually at six o'clock I arrived at the legation; four powdered
footmen were in the hall, and a decent-looking personage in black
preceded me up the stairs, and opened the double doors into the
drawing-room, without, however, announcing me, or paying the slightest
attention to my mention of “Mr. Pottinger.”
Laying down his newspaper as I entered, his Excellency came forward with
his hand out, and though it was the least imaginable touch, and his bow
was grandly ceremonious, his smile was courteous and his manner bland.
“Charmed to find you know the merit of punctuality,” said he. “To the
untravelled English, six means seven, or even later. You may serve
dinner, Robins. Strange weather we are having,” continued he, turning to
me; “cold, raw, and uncongenial.”
We talked “barometer” till, the door opening, the _maître d'hôtel_
announced, “His Excellency is served;” a rather unpolite mode, I
thought, of ignoring his company, and which was even more strongly
impressed by the fact that he walked in first, leaving me to follow.
At the table a third “cover” was just being speedily removed as we
entered, a fact that smote at my heart like a blow. The dinner began,
and went on with little said; a faint question from the Minister as to
what the dish contained and a whispered reply constituted most of the
talk, and an occasional cold recommendation to me to try this or that
_entrée_. It was admirable in all its details, the cookery exquisite,
the wines delicious, but there was an oppression in the solemnity of
it all that made me sigh repeatedly. Had the butler been serving a
high mass, his motions at the sideboard could scarcely have been more
reverential.
“If you don't object to the open air, we 'll take our coffee on the
terrace,” said his Excellency; and we soon found ourselves on a most
charming elevation, surrounded on three sides with orange-trees, the
fourth opening a magnificent view over a fine landscape with the Taunus
mountains in the distance.
“I can offer you, at least, a good cigar,” said the Minister, as he
selected with great care two from a number on a silver plateau before
him. “These, I think, you will find recommendable; they are grown for
myself at Cuba, and prepared after a receipt only known to one family.”
In all this there was a dignified civility, not at all like the
impertinent freedom of his manner in the morning. He never, besides,
addressed me as Mr. Paynter; in fact, he did not advert to a name at
all, not giving me the slightest pretext for that reprisal I had come so
charged with; and, as to opening the campaign myself, I 'd as soon have
commenced acquaintance with a tiger by a pull at his tail. We were now
alone; the servants had retired, and there we sat, silently smoking our
cigars in apparent ease, but one of us, at least, in a frame of mind the
very opposite to tranquillity.
What a rush and conflict of thought was in my head! Why had not _she_
dined with us? Was her position such as that the presence of a stranger
became an embarrassment? Good heaven! was I to suppose this, that,
and the other? What was there in this man that so imposed on me, that
when I wanted to speak I only could sigh, and that I felt his presence
like some overpowering spell? It was that calm, self-contained, quiet
manner--cold rather than austere, courteous without cordiality--that
chilled me to the very marrow of my bones. Lecture _him_ on the private
moralities of his life! ask _him_ to render me an account of his
actions! address _him_ as Bluebottle!--
“With such tobacco as that, one can drink Bordeaux,” said he. “Help
yourself.”
And I did help myself,--freely, repeatedly. I drank for courage, as a
man might drink from thirst or fever, or for strength in a moment
of fainting debility. The wine was exquisite, and my heart beat more
forcibly, and I felt it.
I cannot follow very connectedly the course of events; I neither
know how the conversation glided into politics, nor what I said on
that subject. As to the steps by which I succeeded in obtaining his
Excellency's confidence, I know as little as a man does of the precise
moment in which he is wet through in a Scotch mist. I have a dim memory
of talking in a very dictatorial voice, and continually referring to
my “entrance into public life,” with reference to what Peel “said,” and
what the Duke “told me.”
“What's the use of writing home?” said his Excellency, in a desponding
voice. “For the last five years I have called attention to what is going
on here; nobody minds, nobody heeds it. Open any blue-book you like, and
will you find one solitary despatch from Hesse-Kalbbratonstadt?”
“I cannot call one to mind.”
“Of course you can't. Would you believe it, when the Zeringer party
went out, and the Schlaffdorfers came in, I was rebuked--actually
rebuked--for sending off a special messenger with the news? And then
came out a despatch in cipher, which being interpreted contained this
stupid doggerel:--
“'Strange that men difference should be
Twixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee.'
“I ask, sir, is it thus the affairs of a great country can be carried
on? The efforts of Russia here are incessant: a certain personage--I
will mention no names--loves caviare, he likes it fresh, there is a
special _estaffette_ established to bring it! I learned, by the most
insidious researches, his fondness for English cheese; I lost no time in
putting the fact before the cabinet I represented, that while timid men
looked tremblingly towards France, the thoughtful politician saw the
peril of Hesse-Kalbbratonstadt I urged them to lose no time:
'The Grand-Duchess has immense influence; countermine her,' said
I,--'countermine her with a Stilton;' and, would you believe it, sir,
they have not so much as sent out a Cheddar! What will the people of
England say one of these days when they learn, as learn they shall,
that at this mission here I am alone; that I have neither secretary nor
_attaché_, paid or unpaid; that since the Crimean War the whole weight
of the legation has been thrown upon me: nor is this all; but that a
systematic course of treachery--I can't call it lies--has been adopted
to entrap me, if such were possible? My despatches are unreplied to, my
questions all unanswered. I stand here with the peace of Europe in my
hands, and none to counsel nor advise me. What will you say, sir, to the
very last despatch I have received from Downing Street? It runs thus:--
“'I am instructed by his Lordship to inform you, that he views
with indifference your statement of the internal condition of the
grand-duchy, but is much struck by your charge for sealing-wax.
“'I have, sir, &c.'
“This is no longer to be endured. A public servant who has filled some
of the most responsible of official stations,--I was eleven years at
Tragotà, in the Argentine Republic; I was a _chargé_ at Oohululoo for
eight months, the only European who ever survived an autumn there; they
then sent me special to Cabanhoe to negotiate the Salt-sprat treaty;
after that--”
Here my senses grew muddy; the gray dim light, the soft influences of
a good dinner and a sufficiency of wine, the drowsy tenor of the
Minister's voice, all conspired, and I slept as soundly as if in my bed.
My next conscious moment was as his Excellency moved his chair back, and
said,--
“I think a cup of tea would be pleasant; let us come into the
drawing-room.”