Whatever the Jew's suspicion of the means by which I had become possessed of such wealth, he prudently thought that he might reap more profit by falling in with my plans than by needlessly scrutinizing my character; and, so far, he judged wisely.
The contract for the carriage I completed on the spot, and having engaged the servants and ordered their liveries,—plain suits of brown, with gold tags, aiguilettes,—I gave directions for my own wearing apparel, in a style of costly magnificence that confirmed me in the title of “Alteza,” given by all who came in contact with me. These occupations occupied the entire morning, and it was only late in the afternoon that I had spare time to recreate myself by a walk in the garden of the inn before dinner,—a promenade which, I am free to own, was heightened in its enjoyment by the rich rustling sounds of my heavy silk robe-dè-chambre, and the soft, downy tread of my velvet slippers on the smooth turf. It was a delicious moment! the very birds seemed to sing a little paean of rejoicing at my good luck; the flowers put forth their sweetest odors as I passed; and I felt myself in ecstasy with the whole creation, and in particular with that segment of it called Con Cregan. And there be folk in this world would call this egotism and vanity; ay, and by worse names too! As if it was not the very purest philanthropy—as if my self-content did not spring from the calm assurance that the goods of fortune were bestowed in the right direction, and that the goddess whom men call “fickle” was in reality a most discriminating deity!
There are no two things in creation less alike than a rich man and a poor one! Not only do all their thoughts, feelings, and affections run in opposite channels, but their judgments are different; and from the habit of presenting particular aspects to the world, they come at last to conform to the impressions conceived of them by the public. The eccentricities of wealth are exalted into fashions,—the peculiarities of poverty are degraded to downright vices.
“Oh, glorious metal!” exclaimed I, as I walked along, “that smooths the roughest road of life, that makes the toughest venison savory, and renders the rudest associates civil and compliant, what insolence and contumely had I not met with here, in this poor 'Posada,' had I only been what my humble dress and mean exterior denoted; and now, what is there that I cannot exact, what demands can I make, and hear that they are impossible!”
“His Excellency's dinner is served,” said the host, as he advanced, with many a low and obsequious salutation, to announce my dinner.
I suppose that the cookery of the “Mono” was not of the very highest order, and that if presented before me now, it would meet but sorry acceptance from my more educated palate; but at the time I speak of, it seemed actually delicious. There appeared to arise faint odors, of savory import, from dishes whose garlic would now almost suffocate me, and I luxuriated in the flavor of wine, every glass of which would, at this day, have put my teeth on edge. If my enjoyment was great, however, I took care not to let it appear too palpable; on the contrary, I criticised and condemned with all the fastidiousness of a spoiled nature, and only condescended to taste anything on the perpetual assurance of the host that “though very different from what his Excellency was used to, it was exactly to the taste of the late 'Gobernador.'”
I felt all the swelling importance of wealth within me as I beheld the cringing lacqueys and the obsequious host, who never dared to carry himself erect in my presence; the very meats seemed to send up an incense to my nostrils. The gentle wind that shook the orange-blossoms seemed made to bear its odors to my senses; all Nature appeared tributary to my enjoyment. And only to think of it! all this adulation was for poor Con Cregan, the convict's son; the houseless street-runner of Dublin; the cabin-boy of the yacht; the flunkey at Quebec; the penniless wanderer in Texas; the wag of the “Noria,” in Mexico. What a revulsion, and how sudden and unexpected!
It now became a matter of deep consideration within me how I should support this unlooked-for change of condition, without betraying too palpably what the French would call my “antecedents.” As to my “relatives,”—forgive the poor pun,—they gave me little trouble. I had often remarked in life that vulgar wealth never exhibits itself in a more absurd and odious light than when indulging in pleasures of which the sole enjoyment is the amount of the cost. The upstart rich man may sit in a gallery of pictures where Titian, Velasquez, and Vandyck have given him a company whose very countenances seem to despise him, while he thinks of nothing save the price. If he listen to Malibran, the only sense awakened is the cost of her engagement; and hence that stolid apathy, the lustreless gaze, the unrelieved weariness, he exhibits in society, where it is the metal of the “mind” is clinking, and not the metal of the “mint.” To a certain extent I did not incur great danger on this head: Nature had done me some kind services, the chief of which was, she had made me an Irishman!
There may seem—alas! there is too great cause that there should seem—something paradoxical in this boast, now, when sorrow and suffering are so much our portion; but I speak only of the individuality which, above every other I have seen or heard of, invests a man with a spirit to enjoy whatever is agreeable in life. Now, this same gift is a great safeguard against the vulgarity of purse-pride, since the man who launches forth upon the open sea of pleasure is rarely occupied by thoughts of self.
As for me, I felt a kind of gluttony for every delight that gold can purchase. What palaces I would inhabit; what equipages I would drive; what magnificent fêtes I would give; what inimitable little dinners, where beauty, wit, and genius alone should be gathered together; what music should I possess in “my private band;” what exotics in my conservatory; and how I should dispense these fascinations; what happiness would I diffuse in the circle in which I moved, and what a circle would that be! It was to this precise point my buoyant fancy had brought me, as the second flask of champagne, iced almost to a crystal, had warmed me into a glow of imaginative enthusiasm. I fancied myself in a gilded saloon, where, amid the glare of a thousand wax-lights, a brilliant company were assembled. I thought that at each opening of the folding-door a servant announced some name, illustrious from position or great in reputation, and that around me, as I stood, a group was gathered of all that was distinguished in the world of fashion or celebrity. “Your Royal Highness has made this the proudest day of my life,” said I, rising, and bowing reverentially before a faded old arm-chair. “May I offer your Eminence a seat,” continued I to a red sofa-cushion I mistook for a cardinal. “Your Excellency is most heartily welcome,” said I to an empty decanter. And so did I convert every adjunct of the chamber into some distinguished personage, even, to my fast expiring lamp, which, with a glimmering flame and a nauseous odor, was gradually dying away, and which I actually addressed as a great ambassador!