In a little while, as was his usual way, he took complete
possession of the house: swaggering all over it;—into the stable
to look after his horse; into the kitchen to look after his
supper. He had something to say or do with every one; smoked with
the Dutchmen; drank with the Germans; slapped the men on the
shoulders, tickled the women under the ribs:-never since the days
of Ally Croaker had such a rattling blade been seen. The landlord
stared at him with astonishment; the landlord’s daughter hung her
head and giggled whenever he came near; and as he turned his back
and swaggered along, his tight jacket setting off his broad
shoulders and plump buckskins, and his long sword trailing by his
side, the maids whispered to one another—“What a proper man!”
At supper my grandfather took command of the table d’hôte as
though he had been at home; helped everybody, not forgetting
himself; talked with every one, whether he understood their
language or not; and made his way into the intimacy of the rich
burgher of Antwerp, who had never been known to be sociable with
any one during his life. In fact, he revolutionized the whole
establishment, and gave it such a rouse, that the very house
reeled with it. He outsat every one at table excepting the little
fat distiller of Schiedam, who had sat soaking for a long time
before he broke forth; but when he did, he was a very devil
incarnate. He took a violent affection for my grandfather; so
they sat drinking, and smoking, and telling stories, and singing
Dutch and Irish songs, without understanding a word each other
said, until the little Hollander was fairly swampt with his own
gin and water, and carried off to bed, whooping and hiccuping,
and trolling the burthen of a Low Dutch love song.
Well, gentlemen, my grandfather was shown to his quarters, up a
huge Staircase composed of loads of hewn timber; and through long
rigmarole passages, hung with blackened paintings of fruit, and
fish, and game, and country frollics, and huge kitchens, and
portly burgomasters, such as you see about old-fashioned Flemish
inns, till at length he arrived at his room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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