CHAPTER III. THE ALTIERI PALACE
In a large and splendid chamber, whose only light was a small lampwithin a globe of alabaster, Charles Edward lay, full-dressed, upon hisbed. His eyes were closed, but his features did not betoken sleep: onthe contrary, his flushed cheek told of intemperance, and the table,covered with wine-decanters and glasses, beside him, confirmed theimpression. His breathing was thick and laboured, and occasionallybroken by a dry, short cough. There was, indeed, little to remind one ofthe handsome chevalier in the bloated face, the heavy, hanging jaws, andthe ungainly figure of him who, looking far older than his real age,now lay there. Though dressed with peculiar care, and covered with theinsignia of several orders, his embroidered vest was unbuttoned, andshowed the rich lace of his jabot, stained and discoloured by wine. Asplendidly ornamented sword lay beside him, on which one hand rested,the fingers tremulously touching the richly embossed hilt. Near the footof the bed, on a low, well-cushioned chair, sat another figure, whoseeasy air of jocularity and good-humoured, sensual countenance presenteda strong contrast to the careworn expression of the Prince's face.Dressed in a long loose robe of white cloth, which he wore notungracefully, his well-rounded legs crossed negligently in front of him,and his hands clasped with an air of quiet and happy composure, the manwas a perfect picture of a jolly friar, well-to-do and contented. Thiswas George Kelly, the very type of happy, self-satisfied sensuality. Ifa phrenologist would have augured favourably from the noble developmentof forehead and temples, the massive back-head and widely spreadingocciput would have quickly shown that nature had alloyed every good giftwith a counterpoise of low tastes and bad passions, more than enough todestroy the balance of character.
'Who 's there? Who 's in waiting?' muttered the Prince, half aloud, asif suddenly arousing himself.
'Kelly--only Kelly,' answered the friar. 'Then the wine is not finished,George, eh? that's certain; the decanters are not empty. What hour isit?' 'As well as I can see, it wants a few minutes of five.'
'Of five! of five! Night or morning, which?'
'Five in the evening. I believe one might venture to call it night, forthey're lighting the lamps in the streets already.'
'What's this here for, George,' said the Prince, lifting up the sword.'We're not going to Bannockburn, are we? Egad! if we be, I trust they'll give me a better weapon. What nonsense of yours is all this?'
'Don't you remember it was your Majesty's birthday, and that you dressedto receive the ministers?'
'To be sure I do; and we did receive them, George, didn't we? Have I notbeen drinking loyal toasts to every monarchy of Europe, and wishingwell to those who need it not? Fifty-one, or fifty-two, which are we,George?'
'Faith, I forget,' said Kelly carelessly; 'but, like this Burgundy,quite old enough to be better.'
'The reproach comes well from _you_, you old reprobate! Whose counselshave made me what I am? Bolingbroke warned me against you many along year back. Atterbury knew you too, and told me what you were. ByHeaven!' cried he, with a wilder energy, 'it was that very spirit ofdictation, that habit of prescribing to me whom to know, where tolean, what to say, and what to leave unsaid, has made me so rash andheadstrong through life. A fellow of your caste had otherwise obtainedno hold upon me; a lowbred, illiterate drunkard----'
A hearty burst of laughter from Kelly here stopped the speaker, whoseemed actually overwhelmed by the cool insolence of the friar.
'Leave me, sir; leave the room!' cried Charles Edward haughtily. 'LetLord Nairn--no, not him; let Murray of Blair, or Kinloch, attend me.'
Kelly never stirred nor uttered a word, but sat calm and motionless,while Charles, breathing heavily from his recent outburst of passion,lay back, half-exhausted, on the bed. After a few minutes he stretchedout his hand and caught his wine-glass; it was empty, and Kelly filledit.
'I say, George,' cried he, after a pause, 'it must be growing late.Shall we not have these people coming to our levee soon?'
'They 've come and gone, sire, six hours ago. I would not permit yourMajesty to be disturbed for such a pack of falsehearted sycophants; themore that they sent such insolent messages, demanding as a right to bereceived, and asking how long they were to wait your royal pleasure.'
'Did they so, George? Is this true?'
'True as Gospel. That Spaniard, with the red-brown beard, came even toyour Majesty's antechamber, and spoke so loud I thought he'd have awokeyou'; nor was Count Boyor much better-mannered----'
'Come and gone!' broke in Charles. 'What falsehoods will grow out ofthis! You should have told me, Kelly. Health, ease, happiness--I 'd havesacrificed all to duty. Ay, George, kings have duties like other men.Were there many here?'
'I never saw one-half the number. The carriages filled the Corso to thePiazza del Popolo. There was not a minister absent.'
'And of our own people?'
'They were all here. O'Sullivan, Barra, Clangavin----'
'Where was Tullybardine?--Ah! I forgot,' broke in Charles, with a deepsigh. '"Here's to them that are gone," George, as the old song says. Didthey seem dissatisfied at my absence?--how did you explain it?'
'I said your Majesty was indisposed; that State affairs had occupiedyou all the preceding night, and that you had at last fallen into aslumber.'
'Was Glengariff among them?'
'You forget, sire. We buried him six weeks ago.'
'To be sure we did. Show me that glass, George--no, the looking-glass,man--and light those tapers yonder.'
Kelly obeyed, but with an evident reluctance, occupying time, so as towithdraw the other's attention from his project. This stratagem did notsucceed, and Charles waited patiently till his orders were fulfilled,when, taking the mirror in his hand, he stared long and steadfastly atthe reflection of his features. It was several minutes before he spoke,and when he did, the voice was tremulous and full of deep feeling.
'George, I am sadly changed; there is but little of the handsomeChevalier here. I didn't think to look like this these fifteen years tocome.'
'Faith! for one who has gone through all that you have, I see nosuch signs of wear and tear,' said Kelly. 'Had you been a Pope or aCardinal--had you lived like an Elector of Hanover, with no other perilsthan a bare head in a procession, or the gouty twinges of forty years'"sauer kraut----"'
'Keep your coarse ribaldry for your equals, sirrah. Let there be some,at least, above the mark of your foul slander,' cried Charles angrily;and then, throwing the looking-glass from him, he fell back upon his bedlike one utterly exhausted. Kelly (who knew him too well to continue anirritating topic, his habit being to leave quietly alone the spirit thatforgot more rapidly than it resented) sipped his wine in silence forsome minutes. 'This day, sixteen years ago, I breakfasted in Carlisle,at the house of a certain Widow Branards. It's strange how I remember aname I have never heard since,' said Charles, in a voice totally alteredfrom its late tone of excitement. 'Do you know, Kelly, that it was onthe turn of a straw the fate of England hung that morning? Keppochhad cut his hand with the hilt of his claymore, and instead ofcounselling--as he ever did--a forward movement, he joined those whoadvised retreat. Had we gone on, George, the game was our own. There isnow no doubt on the matter.'
'I have always heard the same,' said Kelly; 'and that your Majestyyielded with a profound conviction that the counsel was ruinous. Is ittrue, sire, that O'Sullivan agreed with your Majesty?'
'Quite true, George; and the poor fellow shed tears--perhaps for theonly time in his life--when he heard that the decision was given againstus. Stuart of Appin and Kerr were of the same mind; but _Dits alitervisum_, George. We turned our back on Fortune that morning, and shenever showed us her face after.'
'You are not forgetting Falkirk, surely?' said Kelly, who never lost anopportunity of any flattering allusion to the Prince's campaigns.
'Falkirk was but half what it ought to have been. The chieftains gotto quarrel among themselves, and left Hawley to pursue his retreatunmolested; as the old song says,
'"The turnkey
spat in the jailer's face, While the prisoner ran away!"
And now they are all gone, George--gone where you and I must meet themsome day--not a far-off one, maybe.'
'O'Sullivan was here to-day, sire, to wish your Majesty long life andhappiness; and the old fellow looked as hearty and high-spirited asever. I saw him as he passed out of the courtyard, and you 'd haveguessed, by his air and step, that he was a man of forty.'
'He's nigh to eighty-five, then, or I mistake me.' 'Life's strong inan Irishman--there's no doubt of it,' cried Kelly enthusiastically;'there's no man takes more out of prosperity, nor gives way less to badfortune.' 'What's that song of yours, George, about Paddy O'Flynn--isn'tthat the name?' said the Prince, laughing. 'Let 's have it, man.'
'You mean Terry O'Flynn, sire,' said Kelly; 'and, faith, 'twould puzzleme to call to mind one verse of the same song.'
'Do you even remember the night you made it, George, in the littlewayside shrine, eight miles from Avignon? I'll never forget theastonished faces of the two friars that peeped in and saw you, glass inhand, before the fire, chanting that pleasant melody.'
'The Lord forgive you! 'tis many a bad thing you led me into,' saidKelly with affected sorrow, as he arose and walked to the window.Meanwhile the Prince, in a low kind of murmuring voice, tried to recallsome words of the song. 'Talking of friars,' said Kelly, 'there's athumping big one outside, with his great face shining like the dial of aclock. I 'm much mistaken if he's not a countryman of my own!'
'Can he sing, George? Has he the gift of minstrelsy, man?'
'If your Royal Highness would like to hear the canticles, I'm surehe'd oblige you. Faith, I was right; it's poor Luke MacManus--a simple,kind-hearted creature as ever lived. I remember now that he asked mewhen it was possible to see your Royal Highness; and I told him that hemust put down into writing whatever he wanted to say, and come here withit on the 20th; and sure enough, there he is now.'
'And why did you tell him any such thing, sir?' said the Prince angrily.'What are these petitions but demands for aid that we have not tobestow--entreaties we cannot satisfy? Are we not pensioners ourselves?ay, by the Lord Harry, are we, and beggarly enough in our treatment too.None knows this better than yourself, Master Kelly. It is not ten dayssince you pawned my George. Ay, and, by the way, you never brought methe money. What do you say to that?'
'I received twenty-four thousand francs, sire,' said Kelly calmly;'eighteen of which I paid, by your Royal Highness's order, to theCountess.'
'I never gave such an order--where is it?'
'Spoken, sire, in the words of a prince; and heard by one who neverbetrayed him,' said the friar quickly--'the Countess herself----'
'No more of this, sir. We are not before a court of justice. And now letme tell you, Kelly, that the town is full of the malversation of thishousehold; and that however proverbial Irish economy and good managementbe in its own country, climate and change of air would seem to haveimpaired its excellence. My brother tells me that our waste andextravagance are public town talk.'
'So much the better, sire--so much the better!'
'What do you mean by that, sirrah?' cried the Prince angrily.
'Your Royal Highness has heard of Alcibiades, and why he cut the tailoff his dog! Well, isn't it a comfort to think that they never say worseof us here than that we spend freely what's given grudgingly; andthat the penury of others never contaminated the spirit of your RoyalHighness?'
'Have a care, sir,' said the Prince, with more dignity than he had shownbefore: 'there will come a day, perhaps, when we may grow weary of thisbuffoonery.'
'I'm sorry for it, then,' replied Kelly unabashed; 'for when it does,your Royal Highness will just be as little pleased with wisdom.'
It was thus alternately flattering and outraging Charles Edward--nowinsinuating the existence of qualities that he had not;--now disparaginggifts which he really possessed--that this man maintained an influencewhich others in vain tried to obtain over the Prince. It was a relief,too, to find one whose pliancy suited all his humours, and whosecharacter had none of that high-souled independence which animated hisScottish followers. Lastly, Kelly never asked favours for himself orfor others. Enough for him the privilege of the intimacy he enjoyed.He neither sought nor cared for more. Perhaps, of all his traits, noneweighed more heavily in his favour than this one. It was, then, in akind of acknowledgment of this single-mindedness that the Prince, aftera pause, said:
'Let your countryman come up here, George. I see he 's the only courtierthat remains to us.'
Kelly rose without a word, and left the room to obey the command.
Little as those in waiting on the Prince were ever disposed toresist Kelly in any proceeding, they were carried very nearly toinsubordination, as they saw him conducting through the long line ofsalons the humbly-clad, barefooted friar, who, with his arms reverentlycrossed on his breast, threw stealthy glances, as he passed, at theunwonted splendour around him.
'I hope, sir,' said Fra Luke respectfully, 'that your kindness to apoor countryman won't harm yourself; but if ever you were to run therisk, 'tis an occasion like this might excuse it.'
'What do you mean?' said Kelly hastily, and staring him full in theface.
'Why, that the petition I hold here is about one that has the best bloodof Ireland in his veins; but maybe, for all that, if you knew what wasin it, you mightn't like to give it.'
Kelly paused for a few seconds, and then, as if having formed hisresolution, said:
'If that be the case, Luke, it is better that I should not see it.There's no knowing when my favour here may come to an end. There's nota morning breaks, nor an evening closes, that I don't expect to hear I'mdiscarded, thrown off, abandoned. Maybe it would bring me luck if I wasto do one, just _one_, good action, by way of a change, before I go.'
'I hope you've done many such afore now,' said Luke piously.
Kelly did not reply, but a sudden change in his features told howacutely the words sank into his heart.
'Wait for me here a minute,' said he; and motioning to Luke to beseated, he passed noiselessly into the chamber of the Prince.
Gerald Fitzgerald, the Chevalier: A Novel Page 3