Standard Selections Part 73

I'm in such spirits! Permit me, ma'am.

[_Gives his hand to_ MRS. MALAPROP. _Exit singing, and handing her off.

Exit_ CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE _with_ LYDIA _in the opposite direction._

BEAU BRUMMELL

BLANCHARD JERROLD

ACT I, SCENE I

CHARACTERS: Beau Brummell, a fastidious aristocrat with luxurious tastes and a depleted fortune; Isidore, his valet; Mr. Fotherby, his aspiring young protege.

SCENE: A handsome apartment in Brummell's house, Calais, France.

Isidore discovered, in chair, looking over his master's toilette table.

ISIDORE. Twenty s.h.i.+rts a week, twenty-four pocket-handkerchiefs, to say nothing of thirty cravats and twelve waistcoats--indeed, for people that cannot pay their servants! Well, he owes me just six thousand three hundred and thirty-seven francs, ten sous. [_Picks up paper._] Ah, I see, I'm in the list. It costs something to have the honor of serving Mr. Brummell--to be chamberlain to His Majesty, the King of Calais! But he is a wonderful man! People almost thank him for condescending to be in their debt; still, much as I esteem the honor, I can't afford it any longer, nor can the laundress, nor can the hairdresser. Eight hundred francs a year for was.h.i.+ng! Three clean s.h.i.+rts a day, three cravats!

Boots blacked, soles and all, and with such varnis.h.!.+ But then he has such exquisite taste! why, he blackballed a friend of his who wanted to enter his club, because the candidate's boots were polished with bad blacking. I wonder whether the king will do anything for him? It is Mr.

Brummell's dressing hour, and here he comes.

[_Enter_ BRUMMELL, _letter in hand_. ISIDORE _busies himself piling cravats upon the side of dressing table, and wheels chair to the mirror_. BRUMMELL _throws himself in the chair before the gla.s.s, examines the cravats and throws two or three of them away_.

BRUMMELL. Isidore, take those dusters away; the chambermaid has forgotten them. [_Re-reads the letter_.] Strange girl this; the only thing I know against her is that she takes soup twice. It's the old story. Her father wants her to marry a fellow who can keep her, and she wants to have a young fellow who can't. Well, the young fellow who can't is the more interesting of the two. I must ask the father to dinner I suppose--it's a deuced bore; but it will put him under a heavy obligation. I must make excuses to Ballarat and Gill. Isidore, when I'm dressed take my compliments to Mr. Davis, and tell him I shall be happy to see him at dinner to-day.

ISID. Very well, sir. [_Aside_.] To Davis, a retired fellow from the city! This is a tumble!--I am sorry to trouble you, sir, but----

BRUM. I can't talk to you to-day, Isidore. Give me a cravat.

ISID. [_handing one_]. I am a poor man, and six thousand francs----

BRUM. I understand, Isidore. We'll see--we'll see; don't disturb me.

Zounds! man, haven't you been long enough with me to know that these are not moments when I can speak or listen? [_Bell rings_.] If that be Mr.

Fotherby, show him in. [_Exit_ ISIDORE.] I intend to form that young fellow--there's stuff in him. I've noticed that he uses my blacking.

[_Enter_ FOTHERBY _followed by_ ISIDORE.] How d'e do, Fotherby?

FOTHERBY. This admittance is an honor, indeed, sir!

BRUM. My dear fellow, why, what do you call those things upon your feet?

FOTHER. Things on my feet! Shoes, to be sure!

BRUM. Shoes! I thought they were slippers!

FOTHER. You prefer boots then, sir, doubtless?

BRUM. Well, let me see. Humph! Isidore, which do I prefer, boots or shoes?

ISID. The Hessian was always your favorite, sir, in London.

BRUM. Right, Isidore--so it was. By-the-bye, I have asked Davis here to-day. It was a great sacrifice; but as you and the young lady want to have the old gentleman melted, I resigned myself. I hope he'll keep his knife out of his mouth.

FOTHER. We shall be eternally grateful to you, sir. He wanted Helen to become old Armand's wife next week.

BRUM. I think he's right; and but for one circ.u.mstance, I should be on Armand's side of the question.

FOTHER. And this circ.u.mstance?

BRUM. The brute has a toothpick in his waistcoat pocket, or in the thing that serves him for a waistcoat--an instrument that, he says, has been in his family the last fifty years. Conceive, my dear Fotherby, an hereditary toothpick! No, Mr. Davis does not deserve that fate. And now let me give you a bit of advice. Never wear perfumes, but fine linen, plenty of it, and country was.h.i.+ng. Look at you now, my good fellow, you are dressed in execrable taste--all black and white, like a magpie.

Still, never be remarkable. The severest mortification a gentleman can incur, is to attract observation in the street by his dress. Everything should fit without a fault. You can't tell what this has cost me--but then it is a coat--while that thing you wear--I really don't know what we can call it.

FOTHER. Still, sir, under your guidance I shall improve. By the way, my mother asked me to invite you to take tea with us in our humble way.

BRUM. Really, my good young friend, you surprise me. Don't you know that you take medicine--you take a walk--you take a liberty--but you drink tea! My dear Fotherby, never be bearer of such a dreadful message again.

Isidore! has my Paris wig arrived? Any card or letter?

ISID. No cards, sir. The wig arrived by the diligence.

BRUN. Is the wig fit to put on?

ISID. I have been examining it, and, as the times go, I think it will do. There is one of the side locks not quite to my taste.

BRUM. Ah! a mat, no doubt--a door-mat! [_Exit_ ISIDORE. _To_ FOTHERBY.]

You see what a gentleman may be reduced to! It's the most fortunate thing in the world that I never fell in love!

FOTHER. But were you never in love?--never engaged?

BRUM. Engaged?--why, yes, something of the kind; but I discovered that the lady positively ate cabbage, and so I broke it off.

FOTHER. And so, sir, you will persuade the old gentleman to postpone Helen's marriage with Armand--while I----

BRUM. My dear young friend, I will tell the old gentleman to do so--you must see that I could not possibly think of persuading a person who grows onions in his garden----

FOTHER. We shall be eternally grateful----

BRUM. For three weeks exactly--from which time you, at all events, will begin to wish that I had confined my attention to my own particular affairs. But the world is ungrateful. I once waved my hand to a saddler's son from White's window. Well, sir, I owed him five hundred pounds, and he had afterwards the a.s.surance to ask me for it.

FOTHER. You astonish me!

BRUM. Positive fact. So be cautious, young man, and in your way through life--if you wave your hand to such a fellow, let it be over a stamped receipt.

FOTHER. I shall follow your counsel most scrupulously.

BRUM. There, sir, never let me see you again in those gloves! These, sir, [_showing his_] are the only gloves for a gentleman. Pray leave me--I can't bear the sight of them. Meantime, tell your betrothed that I shall do everything in my power to secure your unhappiness. I have already spoken to Lord Ballarat about you. I told him you were the laziest fellow and the best dresser in the town--in fact, cut out by nature to serve the government. Good-bye--I shall ask you to dine with me some of these days--but not yet awhile--you must work up to that. And now, Fotherby, to show you how deep an interest I take in your welfare, you shall give me your arm to the ramparts. [_Exeunt._