“Noble, indeed!” croaked out the little wretch, with a voice hoarse from the strong Burgundy.
“She might, with proper culture, adorn a very different sphere,” said I, angrily. “Many have climbed the ladder of life with humbler pretensions.”
“Ay, and stand on one leg on top of it, playing the tambourine all the time,” hiccuped he, in reply.
I did not fancy the way he carried out my figure, but went on with my reflections,—
“Some, but they are few, achieve greatness at a bound—”
“That's what she does,” broke he in. “Twelve hoops and a drum behind them, at one spring; she comes through like a flying-fish.”
I don't know what angry rejoinder was on my lips to this speech, when there came a tap at my door. I arose at once and opened it. It was Francois, with a polite message from Mrs. Keats, to say how happy it would make her “if I felt well enough to join her and Miss Herbert at tea.” For a second or two I knew not what to reply. That I was “well enough,” François was sure to report, and in my flushed condition I was, perhaps, the picture of an exaggerated state of convalescence; so, after a moment's hesitation, I muttered out a blundering excuse, on the plea of having a couple of friends with me, “who had chanced to be just passing through the town on their way to Italy.”
I did not think Francois had time to report my answer, when I heard him again at the door. It was, with his mistress's compliments, to say, she “would be charmed if I would induce my friends to accompany me.”
I had to hold my hand on my side with laughter as I heard this message, so absurd was the proposition, and so ridiculous seemed the notion of it. This, I say, was the first impression made upon my mind; and then, almost as suddenly, there came another and very different one. “What is the mission you have embraced, Potts?” asked I of myself. “If it have a but or an object, is it not to overthrow the mean and unjust prejudices, the miserable class distinctions, that separate the rich from the poor, the great from the humble, the gifted from the ignorant? Have you ever proposed to yourself a nobler conquest than over that vulgar tyranny by which prosperity lords it over humble fortune? Have you imagined a higher triumph than to make the man of purple and fine linen feel happy in the companionship of him in smock-frock and high-lows? Could you ask for a happier occasion to open the campaign than this? Mrs. Keats is an admirable representative of her class; she has all the rigid prejudices of her condition; her sympathies may rise, but they never fall; she can feel for the sorrows of the well-born, she has no concern for vulgar afflictions. How admirable the opportunity to show her that grace and genius and beauty are of all ranks! And Miss Herbert, too, what a test it will be of her! If she really have greatness of soul, if there be in her nature a spirit that rises above petty conventionalities and miserable ceremonials, she will take this young creature to her heart like a sister. I think I see them with arms entwined,—two lovely flowers on one stalk,—the dark crimson rose and the pale hyacinth! Oh, Potts! this would be a nobler victory to achieve than to rend battalions with grape, or ride down squadrons with the crash of cavalry.”—“I will come, Francois,” said I. “Tell Mrs. Keats that she may expect us immediately.” I took especial care in my dialogue to keep this prying fellow outside the room, and to interpose in every attempt that he made to obtain a peep within. In this I perfectly succeeded, and dismissed him, without his being able to report any one circumstance about my two travelling friends.
My next task was to inform them of my intentions on their behalf; nor was this so easy as might be imagined, for Vaterchen had indulged very freely with the wine, and all the mountains of Calabria lay between myself and Tinte-fleck. With a great exercise of ingenuity, and more of patience, I did at last succeed in making known to the old fellow that a lady of the highest station and her friend were curious to see them. He only caught my meaning after some time; but when he had surmounted the difficulty, as though to show mc how thoroughly he understood the request, and how nicely he appreciated its object, he began a series of face contortions of the most dreadful kind, being a sort of programme of what he intended to exhibit to the distinguished company. I repressed this firmly, severely. I explained that an artist in all the relations of private life should be ever the gentleman; that the habits of the stage were no more necessary to carry into the world than the costume. I dilated upon the fact that John Kemble had been deemed fitting company by the first gentleman of Europe; and that if his manner could have exposed him to a criticism, it was in, perhaps, a slight tendency to an over-reserve, a cold and almost stern dignity. I 'm not sure Vaterchen followed me completely, nor understood the anecdotes I introduced about Edmund Bean and Lord Byron; but I now addressed myself pictorially to Tintefleck,—pictorially, I say, for words were hopeless. I signified that a très grande dame was about to receive her. I arose, with my skirts expanded in both hands, made a reverent courtesy, throwing my head well back, looking every inch a duchess. But, alas for my powers of representation! she burst into a hearty laugh, and had at last to lay her head on Vaterchen's shoulder out of pure exhaustion.