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Trumps: A Novel, a novel by George William Curtis |
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Chapter 41. A Little Dinner |
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_ CHAPTER XLI. A LITTLE DINNER When Mrs. Dinks told her husband of Alfred's marriage, the Honorable Budlong said it was a great pity, but that it all came of the foolish fondness of the boy's mother; that nothing was more absurd than for mothers to be eternally coddling their children. Although who would have attended to Mr. Alfred if his mother had not, the unemployed statesman forgot to state, notwithstanding that he had just written a letter upon public affairs, in which he eloquently remarked that he had no aspirations for public life; but that, afar from the turmoils of political strife, his modest ambition was satisfied in the performance of the sweet duties which the wise Creator, who has set the children of men in families, has imposed upon all parents. "However," said he, "Mr. Newt is a wealthy merchant. It's all right, my dear! Women, and especially mothers, are peculiarly silly at such times. Endeavor, Mrs. Dinks, to keep the absurdity--which, of course, you will not be able to suppress altogether--within bounds. Try to control your nerves, and rely upon Providence." Therewith the statesman stroked his wife's chin. He controlled his own nerves perfectly, and went to dress for dinner with a select party at General Belch's, in honor of the Honorable B. J. Ele, who, in his capacity as representative in Washington, had ground an axe for his friend the General. Therefore, when the cloth was removed, the General rose and said: "I know that we are only a party of friends, but I can not help indulging my feelings, and gratifying yours, by proposing the health of our distinguished, able, and high-minded representative, whose Congressional career proves that there is no office in the gift of a free and happy people to which he may not legitimately aspire. I have the honor and pleasure to propose, with three times three, the Honorable B. Jawley Ele." The Honorable Budlong Dinks led off in gravely pounding the table with his fork; and when the rattle of knives, and forks, and spoons, and glasses had subsided, and when Major Scuppernong, of North Carolina--who had dined very freely, and was not strictly following the order of events, but cried out in a loud voice in the midst of the applause, "Encore, encore! good for Belch!"--had been reduced to silence, then the honorable gentleman who had been toasted rose, and expressed his opinion of the state of the country, to the general effect that General Jackson--Sir, and fellow-citizens--I mean my friends, and you, Mr. Speaker--I beg pardon, General Belch, that General Jackson, gentlemen and ladies, that is to say, the relatives here present--I mean--yes--is one of the very greatest--I venture to say, and thrust it in the teeth and down the throat of calumny--the greatest human being that now lives, or ever did live, or ever can live. Mr. Ele sat down amidst a fury of applause. Major Scuppernong, of North Carolina, and Captain Lamb, of Pennsylvania, turned simultaneously to the young gentleman who sat between them, and who had been introduced to them by General Belch as Mr. Newt, son of our old Tammany friend Boniface Newt, and said to him, with hysterical fervor, "By G--, Sir! that is one of the greatest men in this country. He does honor, Sir, to the American name!" The gentlemen, without waiting for a reply, each seized a decanter and filled their glasses. Abel smiled and bowed on each side of him, filled his own glass and lighted a cigar. Of course, after General Belch had spoken and Mr. Ele had responded, it was necessary that every body else should be brought to a speech. General Belch mentioned the key-stone of the arch of States; and Captain Lamb, in reply, enlarged upon the swarthy sons of Pennsylvania. General Smith, of Vermont, when green mountains were gracefully alluded to by General Belch, was proud to say that he came--or, rather, he might say--yes, he would say, hailed from the hills of Ethan Allen; and, in closing, treated the company to the tale of Ticonderoga. The glittering mouth of the Father of Waters was a beautiful metaphor which brought Colonol le Fay, of Louisiana, to his feet; and the Colonel said that really he did not know what to say. "Say that the Mississippi has more water in its mouth than ever you had!" roared Major Scuppernong, with great hilarity. The company laughed, and the Colonel sat down. When General Belch mentioned Plymouth Hock, the Honorable Budlong Dinks sprang upon it, and congratulated himself and the festive circle he saw around him upon the inestimable boon of religious liberty which, he might say, was planted upon the rock of Plymouth, and blazed until it had marched all over the land, dispensing from its vivifying wings the healing dew of charity, like the briny tears that lave its base. "Beautiful! beautiful! My God, Sir, what a poetic idea!" murmured, or rather gurgled, Major Scuppernong to Abel at his side. But when General Belch rose and said that eloquence was unnecessary when he mentioned one name, and that he therefore merely requested his friends to fill and pledge, without further introduction, "The old North State," there was a prolonged burst of enthusiasm, during which Major Scuppernong tottered on to his feet and wavered there, blubbering in maudlin woe, and wiping his eyes with a napkin; while the company, who perceived his condition, rattled the table, and shouted, and laughed, until Sligo Moultrie, who sat opposite Abel, declared to him across the table that it was an abominable shame, that the whole South was insulted, and that he should say something. "Fiddle-de-dee, Moultrie," said Abel to him, laughing; "the South is no more insulted because Major Scuppernong, of North Carolina, gets drunk and makes a fool of himself than the North is insulted because General Smith, of Vermont, and the Honorable Dinks, of Boston, make fools of themselves without getting drunk. Do you suppose that, at this time of night, any of these people have the remotest idea of the points of the compass? Their sole interest at the present moment is to know whether the gallant Major will tumble under the table before he gets through his speech." But the gallant Major did not get through his speech at all, because he never began it. The longer he stood the unsteadier he grew, and the more profusely he wept. Once or twice he made a motion, as if straightening himself to begin. The noise at table then subsided a little. The guests cried "H'st." There was a moment of silence, during which the eloquent and gallant Major mopped the lingering tears with his napkin, then his mouth opened in a maudlin smile; the roar began again, until at last the smile changed into a burst of sobbing, and to Abel Newt's extreme discomfiture, and Sligo Moultrie's secret amusement, Major Scuppernong suddenly turned and fell upon Abel's neck, and tenderly embraced him, whispering with tipsy tenderness, "My dearest Belch, I love you! Yes, by Heaven! I swear I love you!" Abel called the waiters, and had the gallant and eloquent Major removed to a sofa. "He enjoys life, the Major, Sir," said Captain Lamb, of Pennsylvania, at Abel's left hand; "a generous, large-hearted man. So is our host, Sir. General Belch is a man who knows enough to go in when it rains." Captain Lamb, of Pennsylvania, cocked one eye at his glass, and then opening his mouth, and throwing his head a little back, tipped the entire contents down at one swallow. He filled the glass again, took a puff at his cigar, scratched his head a moment with the handle of a spoon, then opening his pocket-knife, proceeded to excavate some recesses in his teeth with the blade. "Is Dinks a rising man in Massachusetts, do you know, Sir?" asked Captain Lamb of Abel, while the knife waited and rested a moment on the outside of the mouth. "I believe he is, Sir," said Abel, at a venture. "Wasn't there some talk of his going on a foreign mission? Seems to me I heard something." "Oh! yes," replied Abel. "I've heard a good deal about it. But I am not sure that he has received his commission yet." Captain Lamb cocked his eye at Abel as if he had been a glass of wine. Abel rose, and, seating himself by Sligo Moultrie, entered into conversation. But his object in moving was not talk. It was to give the cue to the company of changing their places, so that he might sit where he would. He drifted and tacked about the table for some time, and finally sailed into the port toward which he had been steering--an empty chair by Mr. Dinks. They said, good-evening. Mr. Dinks added, with a patronizing air, "I presume you are not often at dinners of this kind, Mr. Newt?" "No," replied Abel; "I usually dine on veal and spring chickens." "Oh!" said Mr. Dinks, who thought Abel meant that he generally ate that food. "I mean that men of my years usually feed with younger and softer people than I see around me here," explained the young man. "Yes, of course, I understand," replied Mr. Dinks, loftily, who had not the least idea what Abel meant; "young men must expect to begin at women's dinners." "They must, indeed," replied Abel. "Now, Mr. Dinks, one of the pleasantest I remember was this last winter, under the auspices of your wife. Let me see, there were Mr. Moultrie there, Mr. Whitloe and Miss Magot, Mr. Bowdoin Beacon and Miss Amy Waring--and who else? Oh! I beg pardon, your son Alfred and my sister Fanny." As he spoke the young gentleman filled a glass of wine, and looked over the rim at Mr. Dinks as he drained it. "Yes," returned the Honorable Mr. Dinks, "I don't go to women's dinners." He seemed entirely unconscious that he was conversing with the brother of the young lady with whom his son had eloped. Abel smiled to himself. "I suppose," said he, "we ought to congratulate each other, Mr. Dinks." The honorable gentleman looked at Abel, paused a moment, then said: "My son marries at his own risk. Sir. He is of years of discretion, I believe, and having an income of only six hundred dollars a year, which I allow him, I presume he would not marry without some security upon the other side. However, Sir, as that is his affair, and as I do not find it very interesting--no offense, Sir, for I shall always be happy to see my daughter-in-law--we had better, perhaps, find some other topic. The art of life, my young friend, is to avoid what is disagreeable. Don't you think Mr. Ele quite a remarkable man? I regard him as an honor to your State, Sir." "A very great honor, Sir, and all the gentlemen at this charming dinner are honors to the States from which they come, and to our common country, Mr. Dinks. We younger men are content to dine upon veal and spring chickens so long as we know that such intellects have the guidance of public affairs." Mr. Abel Newt bowed to Mr. Dinks as he spoke, while that gentleman listened with the stately gravity with which a President of the United States hears the Latin oration in which he is made a Doctor of Laws. He bowed in reply to the little speech of Abel's, as if he desired to return thanks for the combined intellects that had been complimented. "And yet, Sir," continued Abel, "if my father should unhappily conceive a prejudice in regard to this elopement, and decline to know any thing of the happy pair, six hundred dollars, in the present liberal style of life incumbent upon a man who has moved in the circles to which your son has been accustomed, would be a very limited income for your son and daughter-in-law--very limited." Abel lighted another cigar. Mr. Dinks was a little confounded by the sudden lurch of the conversation. "Very, very," he replied, as if he were entirely loth to linger upon the subject. "The father of the lady in these cases is very apt to be obdurate," said Abel. "I think very likely," replied Mr. Dinks, with the polite air of a man assenting to an axiom in a science of which, unfortunately, he has not the slightest knowledge. "Now, Sir," persisted Abel, "I will not conceal from you--for I know a father's heart will wish to know to what his son is exposed--that my father is in quite a frenzy about this affair." "Oh! he'll get over it," interrupted Mr. Dinks, complacently. "They always do; and now, don't you think that we had better--" "Exactly," struck in the other. "But I, who know my father well, know that he will not relent. Oh, Sir, it is dreadful to think of a family divided!" Abel puffed for a moment in silence. "But I think my dearest father loves me enough to allow me to mould him a little. If, for instance, I could say to him that Mr. Dinks would contribute say fifteen hundred dollars a year, until Mr. Alfred comes into his fortune, I think in that case I might persuade him to advance as much; and so, Sir, your son and my dear sister might live somewhat as they have been accustomed, and their mutual affection would sustain them, I doubt not, until the grandfather died. Then all would be right." Abel blew his nose as if to command his emotion, and looked at Mr. Dinks. "Mr. Newt, I should prefer to drop the subject. I can not afford to give my son a larger allowance. I doubt if he ever gets a cent from Mr. Burt, who is not his grandfather, but only the uncle of my wife. Possibly Mrs. Dinks may receive something. I repeat that I presume my son understands what he is about. If he has done a foolish thing, I am sorry. I hope he has not. Let us drink to the prosperity of the romantic young pair, Sir." "With all my heart," said Abel. He was satisfied. He had come to the dinner that he might discover, in the freedom of soul which follows a feast, what Alfred Dinks's prospects really were, and what his father would do for him. Boniface Newt, upon coming to the store after the tete-a-tete with his wife, had told Abel of his sister's marriage. Abel had comforted his parent by the representation of the probable Burt inheritance. But the father was skeptical. Therefore, when General Arcularius Belch requested the pleasure of Mr. Abel Newt's company at dinner, to meet the Honorable B. Jawley Ele--an invitation which was dictated by General Belch's desire to stand well with Boniface Newt, who contributed generously to the expenses of the party--the father and son both perceived the opportunity of discovering what they wished. "Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Dinks will have six hundred a year, as long as papa Dinks chooses to pay it," said Abel to his father the day after the dinner. Mr. Newt clenched his teeth and struck his fist upon the table. "Not a cent shall they have from me!" cried he. "What the devil does a girl mean, by this kind of thing?" Abel was not discomposed. He did not clench his teeth or strike his fist. "I tell you what they can do, father," said he. His father looked at him inquiringly. "They can take Mr. and Mrs. Tom Witchet to board." Mr. Newt remembered every thing he had said of Mr. Van Boozenberg. But of late, his hair was growing very gray, his brow very wrinkled, his expression very anxious and weary. When he remembered the old banker, it was with no self-reproach that he himself was now doing what, in the banker's case, he had held up to Abel's scorn. It was only to remember that the wary old man had shut down the portcullis of the bank vaults, and that loans were getting to be almost impossible. His face darkened. He swore a sharp oath. "That--old villain!" _ |
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