Neither Sir Ambrose nor the Duke made any reply; and after settling that they should commence their journey on the following morning, they separated.
VIII
The journey of the Duke and his party to London had nothing in it to distinguish it from hundreds of other journeys, and they did not meet with a single adventure worthy of being recorded; and they arrived in perfect safety at the palace of the Duke, which was situated in the Strand, (that being, as we have before stated, in those days the most fashionable part of London,) and had beautiful gardens shelving down to the Thames.
The Duke had brought all his establishment to town; and it would be difficult to conceive anyone in a greater bustle than the worthy Mrs. Russel for several days after their arrival. The tender Abelard could not find her at liberty for a single moment, to listen to his poetical effusions. One day, however, having been, as he conceived, particularly happy, he determined to make himself heard. He accordingly waited upon the fair Eloisa, whom he found busily employed in giving directions to the servants.
“Mrs. Russel!” sighed he, in love’s softest cadence; but Mrs. Russel heard him not; she was talking to the cook. “You must quite alter your style, Angelina,” said she, “remember, nothing can be too plain for great people. Fricasees and ragouts are only devoured by the canaille.”
“I am instructed of that, Ma’am,” replied Angelina, a great, fat, bonny-looking cook—“but I flatter myself I know how to concoct dishes—”
“That is the very thing you must avoid,” interrupted Mrs. Russel, anything did for the country, but here the case is different: the Duke’s rank requires a certain degree of style, and it is the fashion now for great people to have only one dish, and that as plainly cooked as possible. I have been told by a friend of mine, who got a peep at the great dinner the Queen gave the other day to the foreign ambassadors, that there was nothing in the world upon the table, but a huge round of boiled beef, and a great dish of smoking potatoes, with their jackets on.”
“Well, Ma’am,” returned Angelina, “I will rally both my physical and mental energies to afford you all the satisfaction in my power; notwithstanding which, I am free to confess, that, in my opinion, the gastronomic science is now cruelly neglected, and that I do not think the digestive powers of the stomach can be properly excited from their dormant state by such unstimulating food as that you mention. Besides, the muscular force of the stomach must be strained to decompose such solid viands, and I should think the diaphragm seriously injured—”
“You, Alphonso,” continued Mrs. Russel, addressing the footman, and cruelly interrupting the learned harangue of the cook, “must take more care in cleaning the pictures. There is a fine large painting of one of the old English artists, over the door, in the best drawing-room, the colours of which are quite faded; I am afraid you have used something improper to clean it.”
“Indeed, Madam,” returned Alphonso, “I think the fault is in the picture itself. It did not dry well originally; I don’t think the oil that was used in its composition had the carbon and hydrogen mingled in proper proportions. You know, Madam, that oil in general has an amazing affinity for oxygen, and absorbs it rapidly; now, though the oil of this picture has been exposed for years to the action of the common atmospheric air, yet it has never thickened properly into a concrete state.”
“Mrs. Russel!” cried Abelard, venturing to sigh a little louder.
“Oh, Mr. Abelard!” exclaimed the fair Eloisa, with a pretty affectation of confusion, “how you startled me! I declare you made me raise the adnatae of my visual organs, like one of the Anas genus when the clouds are charged with electric fluid, whilst my heart leaped from its transverse position on my diaphragm, and seemed to stick like a great bone right across my oesophagus.”
“How wretched I am to have occasioned fears in that lovely bosom. Hem, hem! might I hope to be indulged with a short interview.”
“In a moment, dear Mr. Abelard! I will attend to you; I will but just finish my directions. The Duke, you know, gives a grand dinner today, and my heart palpitates in my bosom with fear lest I should commit some error. These town-bred people are so particular.”
“You need not fear any scrutiny.”
“La, Mr. Abelard! Eustace!” addressing the butler, “mind you must take care not to bring any variety of wines to the table: nothing is drunk now but port and sherry, and even they are going out of fashion. Have plenty of strong ale, however, and porter, for they are now reckoned the most elegant liquors for the ladies.”
“I shall do my utmost endeavour to obey your injunctions, Madam,” said Eustace, bowing respectfully, “but I cannot imagine that any species of corn, even if it have undergone the vinous fermentation, can produce a liquid so agreeable to the palate, as well as conducive to the sanity of the body, as the juice of the grape.”
“Cannot you spare a single moment to listen to me?” sighed Abelard.
“I have nearly done: I have only to beg that you, Evelina and Cecilia,” addressing the housemaids, “will carefully superintend the arrangement of the dormitories: let the air out of the beds and reinflate them—examine the elastic spring mattresses—mend the gossamer curtains—sweep the velvet carpets, and take care the tubes for withdrawing the decomposed air, and admitting fresh, are in proper order;—also, clean out the baths attached to each chamber, and take care there is an abundant
