Dear Mr. Purcell,—Your letter is now before me, and if I did n't know the mark of your hand before, I 'd scarce believe the sentiments was yours. It well becomes you, one that but one woman would ever accept of, to lecture the likes of me on the way I ought to treat my husband. A stingy old creature that sits croaking over an extra sod of turf on the fire, and counts out the potatoes to the kitchen, is not exactly the kind of authority to dictate laws to the respectable head of a family! I often suspected the nature of the advice you gave K. I., but I did n't think you 'd have the hardihood to come out with it yourself, and to me! How much you must have forgotten both of us, it's mighty clear!
Where did you get all the elegant expressions about K. I.'s "unavoidably prolonged absence," "the sacrifices exacted from friendship," "the generous ardor of a chivalrous nature," and the other fine balderdash you bestow upon your friend's disgraceful behavior? Do you know what you are talking about? Have you a notion about the affair at all? Answer me that. Are you aware that he is now two months and four days away without as much as a letter, except a bit of an impertinent note, once, to ask are we alive or dead, not a sixpence in cash, not a check, nor even a bill that we might try to get protested, or whatever they call it? I don't make any illusions to why he went, and what he went for. I would n't disgrace my pen with the subject, nor myself by noticing it; but, except yourself, in the brown wig and the black satin small clothes, I don't know one less suited to perform the "Lutherian." You are a nice pair, and I expect nothing less than to hear of yourself next! And you have the impudence to tell me that these are some of the "innocent freedoms of Continental life"! What do you know about them, I 'd beg to ask,—you, that never was nearer the Continent than Malahide? As to the innocent freedoms of the Continent, there's nobody can teach me anything; I see them before me in the day when I drive out, at the table d'hôte where I dine, and at every ball where they dance. Sweet innocence it is, indeed! and particularly when practised by the father of a grown-up family,—fifty-seven, he says, in June, but more likely sixty odd, for I know many of his co-trumperies, and nice young gentlemen they are too!
You assure me that you sympathize sincerely with K. I. I 've no objection to that; he 'll need all the comfort it can give him when he comes home again, or I 'm much mistaken. With the help of the saints, I 'll teach him the differ between going off with a lady and living with his lawful wife. If he didn't know the distinction before, he shall now! And then you think to terrify me about the state of his health. It won't do, Mr. Tom Purcell. He 'll live to disgrace us this many a year. I know well what his constitution can bear, and what he calls the gout is neither more nor less than the outbreaks of his violent and furious temper! Never flatter yourself, therefore, that you can make any of us uneasy on that score; and if he comes back on a litter, it won't save him.
Your "sincere regrets that we ever came abroad" are very elegantly expressed, and require all my acknowledgments. Is n't there anything else you are sorry for? Is n't it grief to you that we never caught the smallpox, or that James was n't transported for forgery? We ought to have stayed at Bruff; and, judging from the charms of your style, I have no doubt that we might have derived great benefit from your vicinity.
You are eloquent, too, about expense; and add that you always believed that there was no economy in living abroad. Perhaps not, sir, if one unites foreign vices with home ones; but I beg to say, when we left Dodsborough, I, for one, never contemplated the cost of two establishments,—take that, Mr. Tom Purcell!
I wonder at myself how I keep my temper, and condescend to argue with you about points on which an old bachelor, or widower (for it's the same), must necessarily be ignorant. Don't you perceive that for you to discourse on family matters is like a deaf man describing music?
And you wind up about the privileges of old friendship, and so on! It's a new notion of friendship that makes a man impudent! Where did you ever hear that knowing people a long time was a reason for insulting them? As to your kind inquiries for the girls, I 'd have liked them as well if not coupled with those "natural fears" for the consequences of foreign contamination. Mary Anne and myself got a hearty laugh out of your terrors; and so I forgive your mention of them.
James is quite well; and would, he says, be better, if that remittance you spoke of had arrived.
You tell me that the McCarthy legacy is paid, and the money lodged at Latouche's. But what's the use of that? It's here I want it. Find out a safe hand, if you can, and send it over to me; for I 'm resolved to have nothing to do with bills as long as I live.
And now I believe I have gone through the principal matters in your last, and I hope given you my ideas as clearly as your own. It may save you some time and stationery if I say that my mind is made up about K.I.; and if it was Queen Victoria was interceding for him, I'd not alter my sentiments. It's no use appealing "to the goodness of my heart, and the feminine sweetness of my nature;" all that you say on that head is only a warning to me not to let my weaknesses get the upper hand of me: a lesson I will endeavor to profit by, so long as I write myself,
Your very obedient to command,
Jemima Dodd.
Dear Molly,—I send you herewith a letter for Tom Pur-cell, which you 'll take care to deliver with your own hands. If you are by when he reads it, you 'll maybe perceive that it's not the "compliments of the season" I was sending him. He says he likes plain speaking, and I trust he is satisfied now.
You are already aware of the barbarous manner K. I. has behaved. I 've told you how he deserted me and the family, and the disgrace that he has brought down upon us in the face of Europe; for I must observe to you, Molly, that whatever is talked of here goes flying over the whole world, and is the common talk of every Court on the Continent. I could fill chapters if I was to describe his wickedness and inhumanity. Well, my dear, what do you think! but in the face of all this Mr. Tom Purcell takes the opportunity to read me a long lecture on my "congenial" duties, and to instruct me in what manner I am to treat K. I. on his return.
Considering what he knows of my character, Molly, I almost suspect that he might have spared himself this trouble. Did he, or did any one else, ever see me posed by a difficulty? When did any event take me unawares? Am I by nature one of those terrified creatures that get flurried by misfortune; or am I, by the blessing of Providence, gifted in a remarkable manner with great powers of judgment, matured by a deep knowledge of life, and a thorough acquaintance with the wickedness of the human heart? That's the whole question,—which am I? Is it after twenty-six years' studying his disposition and pondering over all his badness, that any one can come and teach me how to manage him? I know K. I. as I know my old slipper; and, indeed, one is worth about as much as the other! I have n't the patience—it would be too much to expect from any one—to tell you how beautifully Mister Tom discourses to me about the innocent freedoms of the Continent, and the harmless fragilities of female life abroad! Does the old sinner believe in his heart that black is white abroad? and would he have me think that what's murder in Bruff was only a justifiable hom'-a-side at Brussels? If he doesn't meau that, what does he mean? Maybe, to be sure, he 's one of the fashionable set that make out that the husband is always driven to some kind of vice or other by his wife's conduct! For, I must remark to you, Molly, there 's a set of people now in the world—they call themselves "The Peace Congress," I think—that say there must be no more wars, no fighting, domestically or nationally!
Their notion is this: everybody is right, and nobody need quarrel with his neighbor, but settle any trifling disagreement by means of arbitration. Mister Tom is, perhaps, an arbitrator. Well, I hope he likes the office! Since I knew anything of life myself, I always found that if there was three people mixed up in a shindy there was no hope of settling it, on any terms.
He says, K. I. is coming home. Let him come, says I. Let him surrender himself, Molly, and justice will take its course. That's all the satisfaction I 'll give either of them.
"Don't be vindictive," says Mister Tom. Isn't that pretty language to use to me, I ask? Is the Chief Justice "vindictive," Molly, when he says, "Stand forward, and hear your sentence"? Is he behaving "unlike a Christian" when he says, "Use the little time that's left you in making your peace"?
The old creature then goes on to quote Scripture to me, and talks about the prodigal son. "Very well," says I, "be it so. K. I. may be that if he likes, but I 'll not be the fatted calf,—that's all!" The fact is, Molly, I'm immutable as the Maids and Prussians. They may talk till they 're black in the face, but I 'll never forgive him!
Would n't it be a nice example, I ask, to the girls, if I was to overlook K. I.'s conduct, and call it a "venal" offence? And this, too, when the eyes of all Europe is staring at us. "How will Mrs. D. take it?" says the Prince of this. "What will Mrs. D. say to him?" says the Duke of that "Does she know it yet?" asks the Archduke of Moravia. That's the way they go on from morning till night; so that, in fact, Molly,—as Lord George observes,—"he is less of a private culprit than a great public malefactor."
There's the way I am forced to look on the case; and think more of the good of society than of my family feelings.
Such are my sentiments, Molly, after giving to the case a most patient and careful consideration; and it's little good in Tom Purcell's trying to oppose and obstruct me.
If it were not for this unhappy event, I must own to you, Molly, that we never enjoyed ourselves anywhere more than we do here. It's a scene of pleasure and gayety all day,—and, indeed, all nightlong; and nothing but the anticipation of K. I. 's return could damp the ardor of our happiness. However it's managed, I can't tell; but the most elegant balls and entertainments are given here free and for nothing! Who keep up the rooms, pays for the lighting, the servants, and the refreshments, is more than I can say. All I know is, that your humble servant never contributed a sixpence to one of them. Lord George says that the Grand Duke is never happy except when the place is crammed; and that he 'd spend his last shilling rather than not see people amuse themselves. And there's a Frenchman, too,—a Mr. Begasset, or Benasset, or something like that,—who is so wild about amusement that he goes to any expense about the place, and even keeps a pack of hounds for the public.
Contrast this, my dear Molly, with one of our little miserable subscription balls at home, where Dan Cassidy, the dancing-master, is driving about the country, for maybe three weeks, in his old gig, before he can scrape together a matter of six or seven pounds, to pay for mutton lights, two fiddles, and a dulcimer; and, after all, it's perhaps over the Bridewell we 'd be dancing, and the shouts of the dirty creatures below would be coming up at every pause of the music. Now, here, it's like a royal palace,—elegant lustres, with two hundred wax-lights in each of them,—a floor like glass. Ask Mary Anne if it isn't as slippery! The dress of the company actually magnificent! none of your little shabby-colored muslins, or Limerick lace; none of your gauze petticoats, worn over glazed calico, to look like satin, but everything real, Molly,—the lace, the silk, the satin, the jewels, the gold trimmings, the feathers,—all the best of the kind, and fresh as they came out of the shop. You don't see the white satin shoes with the mark of a man's foot on them, nor the satin body with four fingers and a thumb on the back of it, as you would at a Patrick's Ball in Dublin! Everything is new for each night.
How Mary Anne laughs at the Irish notions of dress, of what they call in the "Evening Post," "a beautiful lama petticoat over a white satin slip!" or "a train of elegant figured tabinet." Why, Molly darling, you might as well wear a mackintosh, or go out in a suit of glazed alpaca cloth. Mary Anne says that the ball at the Castle of Dublin is like a tournament, where all the company dance in armor; and, indeed, when I think of the rattling of bead bracelets, false pearls, and Berlin necklaces, it rather reminds me of a hornpipe in fetters!
I must confess to you, Molly, there 's nothing as low anywhere as Dublin, and latterly, when anybody asks Mary Anne or me if it's pleasant, we always say with a strong English accent, "Our military friends say, vastly, but we really don't know ourselves." Is n't that a pretty pass to be reduced to? But I 'm told that all the Irish, of any distinction, are obliged to do the same, and never confess to have seen more of Ireland than one does from the Welsh mountains. It's no want of patriotism makes me say this. I wish, with all my heart, that Ireland was a perfect paradise; and it's no fault of mine that Providence intended otherwise.
If I was n't writing with my head so full of Tom Purcell and his late impudence, I 'd have plenty to tell you about the girls and James. Mary Anne is more admired than any girl here, and so would Cary, if she 'd only let herself be so; but she has got a short, snubby, tart kind of way with people, that never goes down abroad, where, as Lord G. says, "every cat plays with his claws covered."
And as to Lord George himself, I wonder is it Mary Anne or Cary that he's after. I watch him day by day, and can make nothing of it; but sure and certain it is he means one of the two, and that is the reason why he left this suddenly the other morning for England, and saying,—
"There 's no use letter-writing; I'll just dash over and have a talk with my governor."
I would n't ask him about what, but I saw the way the girls looked down when he spoke, and that was enough to show me in what quarter the wind was blowing.
I wish from my heart and soul the proposal would come before K. I. came back. I 'd like to have to show the superior way I have always managed the family affairs; for I need n't tell you, Molly, that he never had an eye to the peerage for one of his daughters! but if he returns before it's settled, he 'll say that he had his share in it all! As to James, he is everything that a fond and doting mother could wish. Six feet two and a half,—he grew the half since he came here,—with dark eyes, and a pair of whiskers and moustaches that there's not the like here, dressed in the very top of the fashion, with opal and diamond studs to his shirt and waistcoat, and a black velvet paletot with turquoise buttons for evening wear. The whole room turns to look at him wherever he goes, for he walks along just for all the world as if he owned the place. You may suppose, my dear Molly, how little he resembles K. I.; and, indeed, I have heard many make the same remark when we were at Bonn.
I made Mary Anne write me down a list of the great people here who have all called on us; but what 's the use of sending it, after all? You could n't pronounce them if they were before you! I send you, however, a bit I cut out of "Galignani's Messenger," where you 'll see that we are put down amongst the distinguished visitors as "Madame M'Carthy Dodd, family and suite!" James still thinks if K. I. would call himself "The O'Dodd," it would serve us greatly; and Mary Anne agrees with the opinion; and perhaps now, when he comes back under a cloud, as one may say, it may not be so difficult to make him give in. As James remarks, "Print it on your card, call out and shoot the first fellow that addresses you as Mr.—make it no laughing matter for anybody, before your face at least,—and the thing is done." Maybe we 'll live to see this yet, Molly, but I fear it won't be till Providence sends for K. I.
I spoke rather sharply to Waters in my last; and I find now that the legacy is paid into Latouche's. Will you remind Purcell that to be of any use to me the money ought to be here? As to the Loan Fund, I wonder how you have the face to ask me for anything, knowing the way I 'm in for ready cash, and that I 'd rather borrow than lend any day. Tell Peter Belton, also, that I stop my subscription after this year to the Dispensary; and I am quite sure the old system of physic is nothing but legalized poisoning. Looking to the facilities of the country, and the natural habits of the people, I 'm convinced, Molly, that the water-cure is what you want in Ireland; and I 've half a mind to write a letter to one of the papers about it. Cheapness is the first requisite in a poor country; and any one can vouch for it, water is n't a dear commodity with you.
Father Maher's remarks upon poor Jones M'Carthy is, I must say, very unfeeling; and I don't coincide with the conclusions he draws from them; for if he was half as bad as he says, masses will do him little good; and for a few thousand years, more or less, I can't afford to pay fifty pounds! Ask him, besides, is it reasonable that when the price of everything is falling, with Free-trade, that the old tariff of Purgatory is to be kept up still? That would be downright absurd! Priests, my dear Molly, must lower their rates, as the Protectionists do their rents: that's "one of the demands of the age, and can't be resisted." As Lord George says, "The Church, like the railroad people, fell into the mistake of lavish expenditure! Purgatory was like a station, and ought never to be made too costly. No one wants to live there: the most one requires is to be decently comfortable, till you can 'go on.' What's the use of fine furniture, elegant chairs and carpets? they 're clean thrown away in such a place." If Father Maher thinks that the remarks are not uttered in a respectful spirit, tell him he's wrong; for Lord G. and all his family are great Whigs, and intend to do more mischief to the Established Church than any party that ever was in power; and I must say, I never heard Father Maher abuse Protestants, bigotry, and intolerance more bitterly than Lord G. It is so seldom that one ever hears really liberal sentiments, or anything like justice to Ireland, I could listen to him for hours when he begins. If I 'm right in my conjecture about the object of his journey to London, it will be the making of James; since, once that we are connected with the aristocracy, Molly, there's nothing we cannot have; for, you see, the way is this: if you belong to the middle classes, they expect that you ought to have some kind of fitness for the occupation you look for; and they say, "This would n't suit you at all;" "That's not your line, in the least;" but when you are one of the "higher orders," there's, so to say, a general adaptiveness about you, and you can do anything they put before you, from ranging Windsor Forest to keeping a lighthouse! When one reflects upon that, it's no wonder that one of our great poets says, "Oh, bless," or "preserve"—I forget which—"our old nobility!"
Go into any of the great public offices—the Foreign or the Colonial, for instance—and they tell me that such a set of incapable-looking creatures never was seen, with spy-glasses stuck in their eyes, airing themselves before a big fire, and reading the "Times;" and yet, Molly,—confess it we must,—the work is done somehow and by somebody. It reminds me of a paper-mill I once saw; and no matter how dirty and squalid the rags that went in, they came out "Beautiful fine wove," or "Bath extra."
As to the questions in your last, I can't answer a tithe of them. You go on, letter after letter, with the same tiresome demand,—"Are we as much in love with the Continent as we were? Is it so cheap? Is the climate as fine as they say? Is there never any rain or wind at all? Is everybody polite and agreeable? Is there no such thing as backbiting or slandering? Are all the men handsome and brave, and all the women beautiful and virtuous?" This is but a specimen taken at random out of your late inquiries; and I 'd like to know that if even you gave me "notice of a question," as they do in the House, how could I satisfy you on these points? The most I can do is to say that there may be some slight exaggeration in one or two of these,—the rain, for instance, and the virtue,—but that, generally speaking, the rest is all true. I can be more explicit in regard to what you ask in your last postscript,—"After living so long abroad, can we ever come back to reside in Ireland?" Never, Molly, never! I make neither reserve nor qualification in my answer. That would be clearly impossible! for it's not only that Ireland would be insupportable to us, but, as Mary Anne remarks, "we would be insupportable to the Irish." Our walk, our dress, our looks, our accent, our manner with men, and our way with women; the homage we 're used to; the respect we feel our due; the topics we discuss with freedom, and the range of our views generally over life,—would shock the whole population from Cape Clear to the Causeway.
It's not easy for me to explain it to you, Molly; but, somehow, everything abroad is different from at home. Not only the things you talk of, but the way you talk of them, is quite distinct; and the whole world of men, morals, and manners have quite another standard! It is the same with one's thoughts as with their diet; half the things we like best are only what is called acquired tastes. Trouble enough we often have to learn them; but when once we do so, who'd be fool enough to go back upon his old ignorance again? High society and genteel manners, Molly, however you may like them when you are used to them, are just like London porter,—mighty bitter when you first taste it. I know there are plenty of people will tell you the contrary, and that they took to it naturally like mother's milk; but don't believe them, it's quite impossible it could be true.
Once for all, I beg to tell you that there's no earthly use in tormenting and teasing us about the state the house is in at Dodsborough; how the roof is broken here, and the walls given way there. I trust sincerely that it may soon become perfectly uninhabitable, for I never wish to see it again! I often think it would n't be a bad plan for K. I. to go back and reside there. I 'm sure if he collected his rents himself, instead of leaving all to Tom Purcell, it would be "telling him something." You say that the country is getting disturbed again, and that they're likely to have a "sharp winter for the landlords;" but if it was the will of Providence anything should happen, I hope I have Christian feelings to support me! Indeed, I'm well used to trials now! It's a mistake, besides, Molly, to suppose that these—I hate to call them "outrages," as the newspapers do—these little outbreaks of the boys have any deep root in the country. The Orangemen, I know, would make them out as a regular system, and say that it's an organized society for murder; but it's no such thing. Father Maher himself told me that he spoke against it from the altar, and said: "What a pass the country has come to," says he, "that the poor laboring hard-working man has no justice to right him, except his own stout heart and strong arm!" What could he say more than that, Molly? But even these beautiful expressions did n't save him from the "Evening Mail"!
The English are always boasting about their bravery and their courage, and so on; and when any one says, "Why don't you buy property in Ireland?" the answer is, "We 're afraid." I have heard it myself, Molly, with my own ears. But their ignorance is even worse than their cowardness, for if they only knew the people, they 'd see there was nothing to be frightened at. Sure, I remember myself, when we lived at Cloughmanus, Sam Gill came up to the house one morning, to say that there was two men come from below Lahinch to shoot K. I.
"They have the passwords," says he, "and all the tokens, and though I 'm, your honor's man, I was obliged to take them into my house and feed them."
"It's a bad business, Sam," says he. "What are they to get for it?"
"Five pound between them, sir,—if it's done complete."
"Would they take three," says K. I., "and let me live?"
"I don't know, sir; but, if you like, I'll ask them."
"I would like it, indeed," says K. I.
And down went Sam to the gate-house, and spoke to them. They were both decent, reasonable men, and agreed at once to the offer. The money was paid, and the two came up and ate a hearty breakfast at the house, and K. I. walked more than a mile of the road with them afterwards,—talking about the crops and the state of the country down westward,—and shook hands with them cordially at parting.
Now, Molly, this is as true as the Bible, and yet there's people and there's newspapers call the Irish "Irreclaimable savages." It is as big a lie as ever was written! The real truth is, they don't know how, if they really wished, to reclaim them! And after all, how little reclaiming they need! To hear English people discuss Ireland, you 'd suppose that it was the worst part of Arabia Felix they were describing. But I have n't patience to go on; I fly out the moment I hear them, and faith they 're not proud of themselves when I 'm done.
"I wish you were in the House, Mrs. Dodd," says one of them to me the other night.
"I wish I was," says I; "if I would n't make it too hot for Slowbuck, my name isn't Jemima! for he's the one that abuses us most of all!" Well, I must say, we are well repaid for all the cruel treatment we receive at home, by the kindness and "consideration," as they call it, we meet with abroad! The minute a foreigner hears we 're Irish, he says, "Oh dear, how sorry we are for your sufferings; we never cease deploring your hard lot;" and to be sure, Molly, "wicked Old England," and the "Harlequin Flag," as Dan called it, come in for their share of abuse. Besides these advantages, I must remark that Catholics is greatly thought of on the Continent; for it is n't as in Ireland, where 's it's only the common people to mass. Here you may see royalty at their devotions. They sit in little galleries with glass windows, which they open every now and then, to take part in the prayers; and indeed, whatever rank and fashion is in the place, you 're sure to see it "at church;" mind, Molly, at church, for no educated Catholic even says "at mass."
You want to hear "all about the converts to our holy faith," you say, but this is n't the place to get you the best information; but as I hope we 'll pass the winter in Italy, I 'll maybe be able to give you some account of them.
Lord George tells me that the Pope makes Rome delightful to strangers; but whether it's "dinners" or "receptions," I don't know. At any rate, I conclude he doesn't give "balls."
What a fuss they're making all over the world about these "rapparees," or refugees, or whatever they call them. My notion is, Molly, that we who harbor them have the worst of the bargain; and as to our fighting for them, it would be almost as sensible as to take up arms in defence of a flea that got into your bed! Considering how plenty blackguards are at home, I think it's nothing but greediness in us to want to take Russian and Austrian ones! We have our own villains; and any one of moderate desires might be satisfied with them! These are Lord G.'s sentiments, but I 'm sure you like to hear the opinions of the aristocracy on all matters.
What you say about Bony's marriage was the very thought that occurred to myself, and it was just the turn of a pin whether Mary Anne was n't at this moment Empress of France! Well, who knows what's coming, Molly! There's many a one, now in a private station, and mighty hard up for means, that will maybe turn out a King or a Grand-Duke before long. At any rate, no elevation to rank or dignity will ever make me forget my old friends, and yourself, the first of them. And with this, I subscribe myself,
Yours ever affectionately,
Jemima Dodd McCarthy.
P. S. I 'll make one of the girls write to you next week, for I know I 'll be so much overcome by my feelings when K. I. arrives, that I 'll be quite incapable to take up my pen.
I sometimes think that I 'll take to my bed, and be "given over." against the day of his coming; for you see there 's nothing gives such solemnity and weight to one's reproaches as their being last words. You can say such bitter things, Molly, when you are supposed to be too weak to bear a reply. But I 've done this once or twice before, and K. I. is a hardened creature.
Lord G. says: "Treat him as if it were nothing at all, as if you saw him yesterday: don't give him the importance of having irritated you. Be a regular woman of fashion." If my temper would permit, perhaps this would be best of all; but have I a right to acquit a "great public malefactor"? That's a "case of conscience," Molly, that perhaps only the Church could resolve. The saints direct me!
My dear Bob,—It is quite true, I am a shameful correspondent, and your last three letters now before me, unanswered, comprise a tremendous indictment against me; but reflect for a moment, and you will see that in all complaints of this kind there is a certain amount of injustice, since it is hardly possible ever to find two people whose tastes, habite, and present circumstances place them on such terms of perfect equality that the interchange of letters is as easy for one as the other. Think over this for a moment, and you will perceive that sitting down at your quiet desk, in "No. 2, Old Square," is a different process from snatching a hurried moment amidst the din, the crash, and the conflict of life at Baden; and if your thoughts flow on calmly, tinctured with the solemn influences around you, mine as necessarily reflect an existence checkered by every rainbow hue of good or evil fortune.
Be therefore tolerant of my silence and indulgent to my stupidity, since to transmit one's thoughts requires previously that you should think; and who can, or ever could, in a place like this? Imagine a winding valley, with wooded hills rising in some places to the height of mountains, in the midst of which stands a little village—for it is no more—nearly every house of which is a palace, some splendid hotel of France, Russia, or England. You pass from these by a shady alley to a little rustic bridge, over what might be, and very possibly is, an excellent trout-stream, and come at once in front of a magnificent structure, frescoed without and gilded and stuccoed within. "The Rooms," the Temple of Fortune, the ordeal of destiny, Bob, is held here; and the rake of the croupier is the distaff of the Fate. Hither come flocking the representatives of every nation of the world, and of almost every class in each. Royalty, princely houses, and nobility with twenty quarterings, are jostled in the indiscriminate crowd with houseless adventurers, beggared spendthrifts, and ruined debauchees. All who can contribute the clink of their Louis d'or to the music are welcome to this orchestra! And women, too, fair, delicate, and lovely, the tenderest flowers that ever were nursed within domestic care, mixed up with others, not less handsome perhaps, but whose siren beauty is almost diabolic by comparison. What a babel of tongues, and what confusion of characters! The grandee of Spain, the escaped galley-slave, the Hungarian magnate, the London "swell," the old and hoary gambler with snow-white moustaches, and the unfledged minor, anticipating manhood by ruining himself in his "teens." All these are blended and commingled by the influence of play? and, differing as they do in birth, in blood, in lineage, and condition, yet are they members of one guild, associates of one society,—the gambling-table. And what a leveller is play! He who whispers in the ear of the Crown Prince yonder is a branded felon from the Bagnes de Brest; the dark-whiskered man yonder, who leans over the lady's chair, is an escaped forger; the Carlist noble is asking friendly counsel of a Christino spy; the London pickpocket offers his jewelled snuff-box to an Archduke of Austria. "How goes the game today?" cries a Neapolitan prince of the blood, and the question is addressed to a red-bearded Corsican, whose livelihood is a stiletto. "Is that the beautiful Countess of Hapsburg?" asks a fresh-looking Oxford man; and his friend laughingly answers: "Not exactly; it is Mademoiselle Varenne, of the Odéon." The fine-looking man yonder is a Mexican general, who carried off the military chest from Guanaguato; the pompous little fellow beside him is a Lucchese count, who stole part of the Crown jewels of his sovereign; the long-haired, broad-foreheaded man, with open shirt-collar, so violently denouncing the wrongs of injured Italy, is a Russian spy; and the dark Arab behind him is a Swiss valet, more than suspected of having murdered his master in the Mediterranean. Our English contingent embraces lords of the bedchamber, members of Parliament, railroad magnates, money-lending attorneys, legs, swells, and swindlers, and a small sprinkling of University men, out to read and be ruined,—the fair sex, comprising women of a certain fast set in London, divorced countesses, a long category of the widow class, some with daughters, some without. There is an abundance of good looks, splendid dress, and money without limit! The most striking feature of all, however, is the reckless helter-skelter pace at which every one is going, whether his pursuit be play, love, or mere extravagance. There is no such thing as calculation,—no counting the cost of anything. Life takes its tone from the tables, and where, as wealth and beggary succeed each other, so does every possible extreme of joy and misery, people wager their passions and their emotions exactly as they do their bank-notes and their gold pieces. Chance, my dear Bob,—chance is ten times a more intoxicating liquor than champagne, and once take to "dramming" with fortune, and you may bid a long adieu to sobriety! I do not speak here of the terrible infatuation of play, and the almost utter impossibility of resisting it, but I allude to what is infinitely worse, the certainty of your applying play theories and play tactics to every event and circumstance of real life.
The whole world becomes to you but one great green cloth, and everything in it a question of luck! Will the bad run continue here? Will good fortune stand much longer to you? These are the questions ever rising to your mind. You grow to regard yourself as utterly powerless and impassive; a football at the toe of Destiny! I think I see your eyebrows upraised in astonishment at these profound reflections of mine. You never suspected me of moralizing, nor, shall I own it, was I aware myself that I had any genius that way. Shall I tell you the secret, Bob,—shall I unlock the mysterious drawer of hidden motives for you? It is this, then: I have been a tremendously heavy loser at Rouge-et-Noir! As long as luck lasted, which it did for three weeks or more, I enjoyed this place with a zest I cannot describe to you. The moralists tell us that prosperity hardens the heart; I cannot believe it. I know at least, that in my brief experience I never felt such a universal tenderness for everything and everybody. I seemed to live in an atmosphere of beauty, luxury, and splendor; every one was courteous; all were amiable! It was not alone that fortune favored me, but I appeared to have the good wishes of all beholders; words of encouragement murmured around me as I won; soft bewitching glances beamed over at me, as I raked up my gold. The very banker seemed to shovel out the shining pieces to me with a sense of satisfaction! Old veterans of the tables peeped over me to watch my game, and exclamations of wonder and admiration broke forth at each new moment of my triumphs! I don't care what it may be that constitutes the subject of display: a great speech in the House, a splendid picture at the Gallery, a novel, a song, a spirited lecture, a wonderful feat of strength or horsemanship; but there is an inward sense of intoxication in being the "cynosure of all eyes"—the "one in a thousand"—that comes very nigh to madness! Many a time have I screwed up my hunter to a fence—a regular yawner—that I knew in my heart was touch-and-go with both of us, simply because some one in the crowd said, "Look how young Dodd will do it" I made some smashing ventures at the "tables," under pretty similar promptings, and, I must say, with splendid success.
"Are you always so fortunate?" asked a royal personage, with a courteous smile towards me.
"And in everything?" sighs a gentle voice, with a look of such bewitching softness that I forgot to take up my stake, and see it remain on the board to double itself the next deal.
Besides all this, there is a grand magnificence in all your notions under the access of sudden wealth. You give orders to your tradespeople with a Jove-like omnipotence. You revel in the unbounded realms of "I will." What signifies the cost of anything,—the most gorgeous entertainment? It is only adding twenty Naps, to your next bet! That rich bracelet of rubies—pshaw!—it is to be had for the turn of a card! In a word, Bob, I felt that I had fallen upon the "Bendigo Diggins," without even the trouble of the search! I wanted fifty Naps, for a caprice, and strolled in to win them, as coolly as though I were changing a check at my banker's!
"Come, Jim, be a good fellow, and back me this time; I 'm certain to win if you do," whispers a young lord, with fifteen thousand a year.
"Which side is Dodd on?" asked an old peer, with his purse in his hand.
"How I should like to win eighty Louis, and buy that roan Arab," whispers Lady Mary to her sister.
"I 'd rather spend the money on that opal brooch," murmurs the other.
"Egad! if I win this time, I 'll start for my regiment to-night," mutters a pale-looking sub., with a red spot in one cheek, and eyes lustrous as if on fire.
Fancy the power of him who can accomplish these, and a hundred like longings, without a particle of sacrifice on his own part! Imagine, my dear Bob, the conscious rule and sway thus suggested, and ask yourself what ecstasy ever equalled it! I possessed all that Peter Schlemihl did, and had n't to give even my "shadow" in return. During these three glorious weeks, I gave dinners, concerts, and suppers, commanded plays, bespoke operas, patronized humbugs of all kinds, and headed charities without number. As to presents of jewelry, I almost fancied myself a kind of distributing agent for Storr and Mortimer.
The hotel stables were filled with animals of all kinds belonging to me,—dogs, donkeys, horses, Spanish mules, and a bear; while every shape and description of equipage crammed the coach-houses and the courtyard. One of these, with a single wheel in front, and great facilities for upsetting behind, was invented by a Baden artist, and most flatteringly and felicitously called "Le Dod." Wasn't that fame for you, my boy? Think of going down to posterity on noiseless wheels and patent axles! Fancy being transmitted to remote ages on C springs and elastic cushions! Such was the rage for my patronage that an ingenious cutler had dubbed a newly invented forceps by my name, and I was introduced into the world of surgery as a torture.
Now for the obverse of the medal. It was on that un-luckiest of all days—a Friday—that fortune changed with me. I had lain all the morning abed, after being up the whole night previous, and only went down to "the Rooms" in the evening. As usual, I was accompanied by my train of followers, lords, baronets, M. P.s, foreign counts and chevaliers,—for I went to the field like a general, with his full staff around him! You 'll scarcely believe me when I tell you, Bob, but I say it in all truth and seriousness, that so long as my star was in the ascendant, so long as my counsels were what Homer would call "wealth-bestowing words," there was not an opinion of mine upon any subject, no matter how great my ignorance of it might have been, that was not listened to with deference and repeated with approval. "Dodd said so yesterday," "I hear Dodd thinks highly of it," "Dodd's opinion is unfavorable," and so on, were phrases that rang around me from every group I passed, and from the "odds on the Derby" to the "division on the Budget," there was a profound impression that my sentiments were worth hearing.
The pleasantest talkers in Europe, the wittiest conversera that ever convulsed a dinner-party with laughter, would have been deserted and forsaken to hear me hold forth, whether the theme was art, literature, law and politics, or the drama, or any other you please to mention, and of which my ignorance was profound. My luck was unfailing. "Dodd never loses," "Dodd has only to back it,"—these were the gifts which all could acknowledge and profit by, and these no man undervalued or denied.
"Benasset"—this was the proprietor of the tables—"has been employing his time profitably, Dodd, during your absence. He has made a great morning of it,—cleared out the old Elector, and sent the Margraf of Ragatz penniless to his dominions." This was the speech that met me as I entered the door, and a general all hail followed it.
"Now you 'll see some smart play," whispered one to his newly come friend. "Here 's young Dodd; we shall have some fun presently." Amid these and similar murmurings I approached the tables, at which a place for me was speedily made, for my coming was regarded by the company as a good augury.
I could dwell long upon the sensations that then thronged my brain; they were certainly upon the whole highly pleasurable, but not unmixed with some sadness; for I already was beginning to feel a kind of contempt for my worshippers, and for myself too, as the unworthy object of their devotion. This scorn had not much leisure granted for its indulgence, for the cards were now presented to me for "the cut," and the game began.
As usual, my luck was unbroken. If I had doubled my stake, or by caprice withdrew it altogether, it was the same. Fortune seemed to wait upon my orders. Revelling in a kind of absolutism over fate, I played a thousand pranks with luck, and won,—won on, as if to lose was an impossibility. What strange fancies crossed my mind as I sat there,—vague fears, shadowy terrors of the oddest kind, wild, dreamy, and undefined! Visions of joy and misery; orgies, mad and furious with mirth, and agonizing sights of misery, thoughts of men who had made compacts with the Fiend, and the terrors that beset them in the midst of their voluptuous abandonment; Belshazzar at his feast; Faust on the Brocken,—rose to my mind, and I almost started up and fled from the table at one moment, so impressed was I by these images! Would that I had! Would that I had listened to that warning whisper of my good genius that was then admonishing me!
My revery had become such at last that I really never saw nor heard what went on about me. You can picture my condition to yourself when I say that I was only recalled to self-possession by loud and incessant laughter, that rang out on every side of me. "What 's the matter,—what has happened?" cried I, in amazement. "Don't you perceive, sir," said a bystander, "that you have broken the bank, and they are waiting for a remittance to continue the play?"
So it was, Bob; I had actually won their last Napoleon, and there I sat pushing my stake mechanically into the middle of the table, and raking it up again, playing an imaginary game, to the amusement of that motley crowd, who looked on at me with screams of laughter. I laughed, too, when I came to myself. It was such a relief to me to join, even for a moment, in any feeling that others experienced!
The money came at last. Two strongly clasped, heavily ironed coffers were borne into the room by four powerful men. I watched them with interest as they unlocked and poured forth their shining stores; for in imagination they were already my own. I believe at that moment, if any one had offered to assure me the winning of them "for fifty Naps.," that I should have rejected the proposal with disdain, so impossible did it seem to me that luck could desert me! Do you know, Bob, that what most interested me at the time was the varied expressions displayed by the company at sight of the gorgeous treasure before them? It was strange to mark how little all their good breeding and fine manners availed to repress vulgarity of thought and feeling, for there was greed or envy or hatred, or some inordinate passion or other, on every face around; looks of mild and gentle meaning became dashed with a half ferocity; venerable old age grew fretful and impatient; youth lost its frank and careless bearing; and, in fact, gain, and the lust of gain, was the predominant and overbearing thought of every mind, and wish of every heart! I pledge you my word, there was more animal savagery in the expressions on all sides than ever I saw on a pack of yelping fox-hounds when the huntsman held up the fox in the midst of them. It was the comparison that came to my mind at the moment, and I repeat it, with the reservation that the dogs behaved best.
There was an old careworn, meanly dressed man, with a faded blue ribbon in his button-hole, seated in the place I usually occupied, and he arose to give it to me with that mingled air of reluctance and respect which it is so bard to resist. His manner seemed to say, "I am too poor and too humble to contest the matter, but I 'd remain here if I could."
"So you shall, then," said I to myself, and pushed him gently down upon the seat again.
"By Jove! the old fellow has got the lucky place," cried one in the crowd behind me.
"Hang we, if Dodd has n't given up his old chair!" said another.
"I 'd rather have had that seat," exclaimed a third, "than one at the India Board."
But I only laughed at these absurd superstitions,—as though it were the spot, and not myself, that Fortune loved to caress! As if to resent the foolish credulity, I threw a heavy bet on the table, and lost it! Again and again I did the same, with the like result; and now a murmur ran through the room that luck had turned with me. I had given up my winning seat, and was losing at every turn of the cards.
"Let me have a peep at him," I beard one whisper to his friend behind. "I 'd like to see how he bears it!"
"He loses remarkably well," muttered the other.
"Admirably!" said another. "He seems neither confident nor impatient; I like the way he stands it."
"Egad, his hand trembles, though! He tore that banknote in trying to get it out of his fingers!"
"His hand is hot, too,—see how the Louis stick to it!"
"They 'll not do so very long, depend on 't," said a close-shaved, well-whiskered fellow, with a knowing eye; and the remark met an approving smile from the bystanders.
"I have just added up his last fifteen bets," said a young man to a lady on his arm, "and what do you think he has lost? Forty-eight thousand francs,—close on two thousand pounds!"
"Quite enough for one evening!" said I, with a smile towards him, which made both himself and his friend blush deeply at being overheard; and with this I shut up my pocket-book, and strolled away from the tables into another room, where there were chess and whist players. I took a chair, and affected to watch the game with interest, my heart at the moment throbbing as though it would burst through my chest. Don't mistake, Bob, and fancy it was the accursed thirst for gold that enthralled me. I swear to you that mere gain, mere wealth, never entered into my thought at that moment. It was the gambler's lust—to be the victor, not to be beaten—that was the terrible passion that now struggled and stormed within me! I 'd like to have staked a limb—honor—happiness—life itself—on the issue of a chance; for I felt as though it were a duel with destiny, and I could not quit the ground till one of us should succumb!
How poor and unsatisfying seemed the slow combinations of skill, as I watched the chess-players! What miserable minuteness, what petty plottings for small results!—nothing grand, great, or decisive! It was like being bled to death from some wretched trickling vessel, instead of meeting one's fate gloriously, amidst the roar of artillery and the crash of squadrons!
I lounged into the salons where they dance; it was a very brilliant and a very beautiful assembly. There were faces and figures there that might have proved attractive to eyes more critical than my own. My sudden appearance amongst them, too, was rapturously welcomed. I was already a celebrity; and I felt that amidst the soft glances and beaming smiles around me, I had but to choose out her whom I would distinguish by my attentions. My mother and the girls came to me with pressing entreaties to take out the beautiful Countess de B., or to be presented to the charming Marchioness of N. There was a dowager archduchess who vouchsafed to know me. Miss Somebody, with I forget how many millions in the funds, told Mary Anne she might introduce me. Already the master of the ceremonies came to know if I preferred a mazurka or a waltz. The world was, so to say, at my feet; and, as is usual at such moments, I kicked it for being there. In plain English, Bob, I saw nothing in all that bright and brilliant crowd but scheming mammas and designing daughters; a universal distrust, an utter disbelief in everything and everybody, had got bold of me. Whatever I could n't explain, I discredited. The ringlets might be false; the carnation might be rouge; the gentle timidity of manner might be the cat-like slyness of the tiger; the artless gayety of heart, the practised coquetry of a flirt,—ay, the very symmetry that seemed perfection, might it not be the staymaker's! Play had utterly corrupted me, and there was not one healthy feeling, one manly thought, or one generous impulse left within me! I left the room a few minutes after I entered it. I neither danced nor got presented to any one; but after one lounging stroll through the salons I quitted the place, as though there was not one to know, not one to speak to! I have more than once witnessed the performance of this polite process by another. I have watched a fellow making the tour of a company, with a glass stuck in his eye, and his hand thrust in his pocket. I have tracked him as he passed on from group to group, examining the guests with the same coolness he bestowed on the china, and smiling his little sardonic appreciation of whatever struck him as droll or ridiculous; and when he has retired, it has been all I could do not to follow him out, and kick him down the stairs at his departure. I have no doubt that my conduct on this occasion must have inspired similar sentiments; nor have I any hesitation in avowing that they were well merited.