What a sudden change came over me now, as we swept along through this enchanting country, where every sight and every sound were novel and interesting! The little villages, almost escarped from the tall precipice that skirted the river, were often of Roman origin; old towers of brick, and battlemented walls, displaying the S. P. Q. R.,—those wonderful letters which, from school days to old age, call up such conceptions of this mighty people. A great wagon would draw aside to let us pass; and its giant oxen, with their massive beams of timber on their necks, remind one of the old pictures in some illustrated edition of the "Georgics." The splash of oars, and the loud shouts of men, turn your eyes to the Rhine, and it is a raft, whole acres of timber, slowly floating along, the evidence of some primeval pine forest hundreds of miles away, where the night winds used to sigh in the days of the Cæsars. And now every head is bare, and every knee is bowed, for a procession moves past, on its way to some holy shrine, the zigzag path to which, up the mountain, is traceable by the white line of peasant girls, whose voices are floating down in mellow chorus. Oh, Tom! the whole scene was full of enchantment, and didn't require the consciousness that would haunt me to make it a vision of perfect enjoyment. You ask what was that same consciousness I allude to? Neither more nor less, my dear friend, than the little whisper within me, that said, "Kenny Dodd, where are you going, and for what? Is it Mrs. D. is sitting beside you? or are you quite sure it's not some other man's wife?"
You 'll say, perhaps, these were rather disturbing reflections, and so they would have been had they ever got that far; but as mere flitting fancies, as passing shadows over the mind, they heightened the enjoyment of the moment by some strange and mysterious agency, which I am quite unable to explain, but which, I believe, is referable to the same category as the French Duchess's regret "that iced water was n't a sin, or it would be the greatest delight of existence."
If my conscience had been unmannerly enough to say, "Ain't you doing wrong, Kenny Dodd?" I 'm afraid I 'd have said "Yes," with a chuckle of satisfaction. I'm afraid, my dear Tom, that the human heart, at least in the Irish version, is a very incomprehensible volume.
Let us strive to be good as much as we may, there is a secret sense of pleasure in doing wrong that shows what a hold wickedness has of us. I believe we flatter ourselves that we are cheating the devil all the while, because we intend to do right at last; but the danger is that the game comes to an end before we suspect, and there we are, "cleaned out," and our hand full of trumps.
You'll say, "What has all this to say to the Rhine, or Mrs. Gore Hampton?" Nothing whatever. It only shows that, like the Reflections on a Broomstick, your point of departure bears no relation to the goal of your voyage.
"What's the name of this village, Mr. Dodd?" whispers a soft voice from the deep recesses of the britschka.
"This is Andernach, Madam," said I, opening my "John," for I find there's no doing without him. "It is one of the most ancient cities of the Rhine. It was called by the Romans—"
"Never mind what it was called by the Romans; isn't there a legend about this ancient castle? To be sure there is; pray find it."
And I go on mumbling about Drusus, and Roman camps, and vaulted portals.
"Oh, it's not that," cries she, laughing.
"There are two articles of traffic peculiar to this spot Millstones—" She puts her hand on my lips here, and I am unable to continue my reading, while she goes on: "I remember the legend now. It was a certain Siegfried, the Count Palatine of the Rhine, who, on his return from the Crusades, was persuaded by slanderous tongues to believe his wife had been faithless to him."
"The wretch!—the Count, I mean."
"So he was. He drove her out a wanderer upon the wide world, and she fled across the Rhine into that mountain country you see yonder, which then, as now, was all impenetrable forest There she passed years and years of solitary existence, unknown and friendless. There were no Mr. Dodds in those days, or, at least, she had not the good fortune to meet with them."
I sigh deeply under the influence of such a glance, Tom, and she resumes,—
"At last, one day, when fatigued with the chase, and separated from his companions, the cruel Count throws himself down to rest beside a fountain; a lovely creature, attired gracefully but strangely in the skins of wild beasts—"
"She did n't kill them herself?" said I, interrupting.
"How absurd you are! Of course she did n't;" and she draws her own ermine mantle across her as she speaks, smoothing the soft fur with her softer hand. "The Count starts to his feet, and recognizes her in a moment, and at the same instant, too, he is so struck by the manifest protection Providence has vouchsafed her, that he listens to her tale of justification, and conducts her in triumph home,—his injured but adored wife. I think, really, people were better formerly than they are now,—more forgiving, or rather, I mean, more open to truth and its generous impulses."
"Faith, I can't say," replied I, pondering; "the skins may have had something to say to it." Here she bursts into such a fit of laughter that I join from sheer sympathy with the sound, but not guessing in the least why or at what.
We soon left Andernach behind us, and rolled along beside the rapid Rhine, on a beautiful road almost level with the river, which now for some miles becomes less bold and picturesque.
At last we arrived at Coblentz to dinner, stopping at a capital inn called the "Giant," after which we strolled through the town to stare at the shops and the quaintly dressed peasant girls, whose embroidered head-gear, a kind of velvet cap worked in gold or silver, so pleased Mrs. G. that we bought three or four of them, as well as several of those curiously wrought silver daggers which they wear stuck through their black hair.
I soon discovered that my fair friend was a "child" about other things besides "money." Jewelry was one of these, and for which she seemed to have the most insatiable desire, combined with a most juvenile indifference as to cost. The country girls wear massive gold earrings of the strangest fashion, and nothing would content her but buying several sets of these. Then she took a fancy to their gold chains and rosaries, and, lastly, to their uncouth shoe-buckles, all of which she assured me would be priceless in a fancy dress.
In fact, my dear Tom, these minor preparations of hers, to resemble a Rhine-land peasant, came to a little over seventeen pounds sterling, and suggested to me, more than once, the secret wish that our excursion had been through Ireland, where the habits of the natives could have been counterfeited at considerably less cost.
As "we were in for it," however, I bore myself as gallantly as might be, and pressed several trifling articles on her acceptance, but she tossed them over contemptuously, and merely said, "Oh, we shall find all these things so much better at Ems. They have such a bazaar there!" an announcement that gave me a cold shudder from head to foot. After taking our coffee, we resumed our journey, Ems being only distant some eleven or twelve miles, and, I must say, a drive of unequalled beauty.
Once more on the road, Mrs. G. became more charming and delightful than ever. The romantic glen, through which we journeyed, suggested much material for conversation, and she was legendary and lyrical, plaintive and merry by turns, now recounting some story of tragic history, now remembering some little incident of modern fashionable life, but all, no matter what the theme, touched with a grace and delicacy quite her own. In a little silence that followed one of these charming sallies, I noticed that she smiled as if at something passing in her own thoughts.
"Shall I tell you what I was thinking of?" said she, smiling.
"By all means," said I; "it is a pleasant thought, so pray let me share in it."
"I'm not quite so certain of that," said she. "It is rather puzzling than pleasant. It is simply this: 'Here we are now within a mile of Ems. It is one of the most gossiping places in Europe. How shall we announce ourselves in the Strangers' List?"
The difficulty had never occurred to me before, Tom; nor indeed, did I very clearly appreciate it even now. I thought that the name of Kenny Dodd would have sufficed for me, and I saw no reason why Mrs. Gore Hampton should not have been satisfied with her own appellation.
"I knew," said she, laughing, "that you never gave this a thought. Isn't that so?" I had to confess that she was quite correct, and she went on: "Adolphus "—this was the familiar for Mr. Gore Hampton—"is so well known that you could n't possibly pass for him; besides, he is very tall, and wears large moustaches,—the largest, I think, in the Blues."
"That's clean out of the question, then," said I, stroking my smooth chin in utter despair.
"You 're very like Lord Harvey Bruce, could n't you be him?"
"I'm afraid not; my passport calls me Kenny James Dodd."
"But Lord Harvey is a kind of relative of mine; his mother was a Gore; I 'm sure you could be him."
I shook my head despondently; but somehow, whenever a sudden fancy strikes her, the impulse to yield to it seems perfectly irresistible.
"It's an excellent idea," continued she, "and all you have to do is to write the name boldly in the Travellers' Book, and say your passport is coming with one of your people."
"But he might be here?"
"Oh, he's not here; he could n't be here! I should have heard of it if he were here."
"There may be several who may know him personally here."
"There need be no difficulty about that," replied she; "you have only to feign illness, and keep your room. I 'll take every precaution to sustain the deception. You shall have everything in the way of comfort, but no visitors,—not one.".
I was thunderstruck, Tom! the notion of coming away from home, leaving my family, and braving Mrs. D., all that I might go to bed at Ems, and partake of low diet under a fictitious title, actually overwhelmed me. I thought to myself, "This is a hazardous exploit of mine; it may be a costly one too: at the rate we are travelling, money flies like chaff, but at least I shall have something for it. I shall see fashionable life under the most favorable auspices. I shall dine in public with my beautiful travelling-companion. I shall accompany her to the Cursaal, to the Promenade, to the play-tables. I shall eat ice with her under the 'Lindens,' in the 'Allée.' I shall be envied and hated by all the puppy population of the Baths, and feel myself glorious, conquering, and triumphant." These, and similar, had been my sustaining reflections, under all the adverse pressure of home thoughts. These had been my compensation for the terrors that assuredly loomed in the distance. But now, instead of the realization, I was to seek my consolation in a darkened room, with old newspapers and water gruel!
Anger and indignation rendered me almost speechless. "Was it for this?" I exclaimed twice or thrice, without being able to finish my sentence; and she gently drew her hand within my arm, and, in the tenderest of accents, stopped me, and said, "No; not for this!"
Ah, Tom! you know what we used to hear in the "Beggar's Opera," long ago. "'Tis women that seduces all mankind." I suppose it's true. I suppose that if nature has made us physically strong, she has made us morally weak.
I wanted to be resolute; injured and indignant, I did my best to feel outraged, but it wouldn't do. The touch of three taper fingers of an ungloved hand, the silvery sounds of a soft voice, and the tenderly reproachful glance of a pair of dark blue eyes routed all my resolves, and I was half ashamed of myself for needing even such gentle reproof.
From that moment I was her slave; she might have sent me to a plantation, or sold me in a market-place, resistance, on my part, was out of the question; and is n't this a pretty confession for the father of a family, and the husband of Mrs. D.? Not but, if I had time, I could explain the problem, in a non-natural sense, as the fashionable phrase has it, or even go farther, and justify my divided allegiance, like one of our own bishops, showing the difference between submission to constituted authority, and fidelity to matters of faith,—Mrs. D. standing to represent Queen Victoria, and Mrs. Gore Hampton Pope Pius the Ninth!
These thoughts didn't occur to me at once, Tom; they were the fruit of many a long hour of self-examination and reflection as I lay alone in my silent chamber, thinking over all the singular things that have occurred to me in life, the strange situations I have occupied, and of this, I own, the very strangest of all.
It must be a dreadful thing to be really sick in one of these places. There seems to be no such thing as night, at least as a season of repose. The same clatter of plates, knives, and glasses goes on; the same ringing of bells, and scuffling sounds of running feet; waltzes and polkas; wagons and mule-carts; donkeys and hurdy-gurdies; whistling waiters and small puppies, with a weak falsetto, infest the air, and make up a din that would addle the spirit of Pandemonium.
Hour after hour had I to lie listening to these, taking out my wrath in curses upon Strauss and late suppers, and anathematizing the whole family of opera writers, who have unquestionably originated the bleating performances of every late bed-goer. Not a wretch toiled upstairs, at four in the morning, without yelling out "Casta Diva," or "Gib, mir wein." The half-tipsy ones were usually sentimental, and hiccuped the "Tu che al cielo," out of the "Lucia."
To these succeeded the late sitters at the play-tables,—a race who, to their honor be it recorded, never sing. Gambling is a grave passion, and, whether a man win or lose, it takes all fun out of him. A deep-muttered malediction upon bad luck, a false oath to play no more, a hearty curse against Fortune were the only soliloquies of these the last votaries of Pleasure that now sought their beds as day was breaking.
Have you ever stopped your ears, Tom, and looked at a room full of people dancing? The effect is very curious. What was so graceful but a moment back is now only grotesque. The plastic elegance of gesture becomes downright absurdity. She who tripped with such fairy-like lightness, or that other who floated with swan-like dignity, now seems to move without purpose, and, stranger still, without grace. It was the measure which gave the soul to the performance,—it was that mystic accord, like what binds mind to matter, that gave the wondrous charm to the whole; divested of this it was like motion without vitality,—abrupt, mechanical, convulsive. Exactly the same kind of effect is produced by witnessing fashionable amusements, with a spirit untuned to pleasure. You know nothing of their motives, nor incentives to enjoyment; you are not admitted to any participation in their plan or their object, and to your eyes it is all "dancing without music."
I need not dwell on a tiresome theme, for such would be any description of my life at Ems. Of my lovely companion I saw but little. About midday her maid would bring me a few lines, written in pencil, with kind inquiries after me. Later on I could detect the silvery music of her voice, as she issued forth to her afternoon drive. Later again I could hear her, as she passed along the corridor to her room; and then, as night wore on, she would sometimes come to my door to say a few words,—very kind ones, and in her own softest manner, but of which I could recall nothing, so occupied was I with observing her in all the splendor of evening dress.
When a bright object of this kind passes from your presence, there still lingers for a second or so a species of twilight, after which comes the black and starless night of deep despondency. Out of these dreamy delusive fits of low spirits I used to start with the sudden question, "What are you doing here, Kenny Dodd? Is it the father of a family ought to be living in this fashion? What tomfoolery is this? Is this kind of life instructive, intellectual, or even amusing? Is it respectable? I am not certain it is any one of the four. How long is it to continue, or where is it to end? Am I to go down to the grave under a false name, and are the Dodd family to put on mourning for Lord Harvey Bruce?"
One night that these thoughts had carried me to a high pitch of excitement, I was walking hurriedly to and fro in my room inveighing against the absurd folly which originally had embarked me on this journey. Anger had so far mastered my reason that I began to doubt everything and everybody. I grew sceptical that there were such people in the world as Mr. Gore Hampton or Lord Harvey Bruce, and in my heart I utterly rejected the existence of the "Princess." Up to this moment I had contented myself with hating her, as the first cause of all my calamities, but now I denied her a reality and a being. I did n't at first perceive what would come of my thus disturbing a great foundation-stone, and how inevitably the whole edifice would come tumbling down about my ears in consequence.
This terrible truth, however, now stared me in the face, and I sat down to consider it with a trembling spirit.
"May I come in?" whispered a low but well-known voice,—"may I come in?"
My first thoughts were to affect sleep and not answer, but I saw that there was an eagerness in the manner that would not brook denial, and answered, "Who 's there?"
"It is I, my dear friend," said Mrs. Gore Hampton, entering, and closing the door behind her. She came forward to where I was sitting despondingly on the side of the bed, and took a chair in front of me.
"What's the matter; you are surely not ill in reality?" asked she, tenderly.
"I believe I am," replied I. "They say in Ireland 'mocking is catching,' and, faith, I half suspect I 'm going to pay the price of my own deceitfulness."
"Oh, no, no! you only say that to alarm me. You will be perfectly well when you leave this; the confinement disagrees with you."
"I think it does," said I; "but when are we to go?"
"Immediately; to-night, if possible. I have just received a few lines from the dear Princess—"
"Oh, the Princess!" ejaculated I, with a faint groan.
"Why, what do you mean?" asked she, eagerly.
"Oh, nothing; go on."
"But, first tell me, what made you sigh so when I spoke of the Princess?"
"God knows," said I; "I believe my head was wandering."
"Poor, dear head!" said she, patting me as if I was a small King Charles's spaniel, "it will be better in the fresh air. The Princess writes to say that we must meet her at Eisenach, since she finds herself too ill to come on here. She urges us to lose no time about it, because the Empress Sophia will be on a visit with her in a few days, which of course would interfere with our seeing her frequently. The letter should have been here yesterday, but she gave it to the Archduke Nicholas, and he only remembered it when he was walking with me this evening."
These high and mighty names only made me sigh heartily, and she seemed at once to read all that was passing within me.
"I see what it is," said she, with deep emotion; "you are growing weary of me. You are beginning to regret the noble chivalry, the generous devotion you had shown me. You are asking yourself, 'What am I to her? Why should she cling to me?' Cruel question—of a still more cruel answer! But go, sir, return to your family, and leave me if you will to those heartless courtiers who mete out their sympathies by a sovereign's smiles, and only bestow their pity when royalty commands it; and yet, before we part forever, let me here, on my bended knees, thank and bless—" I can't do it, Tom; I can't write it. I find I am blubbering away just as badly as when the scene occurred. Blue eyes half swimming in tears, silky-brown ringlets, and a voice broken by sobs, are shamefully unfair odds against an Irish gentleman on the shady side of fifty-two or three.
It 's all very well for you—sitting quietly at your turf fire—with an old sleepy spaniel snoring on the hearth-rug, and nothing younger in the house than Mrs. Shea, your late wife's aunt—to talk about "My time of life"—"Grownup daughters"—and so on. "He scoffs at wounds who never felt a scar." The fact is, I 'm not a bit more susceptible than other people; I even think I am less yielding—less open to soft influences than many of my acquaintances. I can answer for it, I never found that the strongest persuasions of a tax-gatherer disposed me to look favorably on "county cess, or a rate-in-aid." Even the priest acknowledges me a tough subject on the score of Easter dues and offerings. If I know anything about my own nature, it is that I have rather a casuistic, hair-splitting kind of way with me,—the very reverse of your soft, submissive, easily seduced fellows. I was always known as the obstinate juryman at our assizes, that preferred starvation and a cart to a glib verdict like the others. I am not sure that anybody ever found it an easy task to convince me about anything, except, perhaps, Mrs. D., and then, Tom, it was not precisely "conviction,"—that was something else.
I think I have now made out a sufficient defence of myself, and I'll not make the lawyer's blunder of proving too much. Give me the same latitude that is always conceded to great men when their actions will not square with their previous sentiments. Think of the Duke and Sir Robert, and be merciful to Kenny Dodd.
We left Ems, like a thief, in the night; the robbery, however, was performed by the landlord, whose bill for five days amounted to upwards of twenty-seven pounds sterling. Whether Grégoire and Mademoiselle Virginie drank all the champagne set down in it I cannot say; but if so, they could never have been sober since their arrival. There are some other curious items, too, such as maraschino and eau de Dantzic, and a large assessment for "real Havannahs"! Who sipped and smoked the above is more than I know.
With regard to out-of-door amusements, Mrs. G. must have ridden, at the least, four donkeys daily, not to speak of carriages, and a sort of sedan-chair for the evening.
I assure you I left the place with a heart even lighter than my purse. I was failing into a very alarming kind of melancholy, and couldn't much longer have answered for my actions.
If we loitered inactively at Ems, we certainly suffered no grass to grow under our feet now. Four horses on the level, six when the road was heavy or newly gravelled; bulls at all the hills.
It's the truth I 'm telling you, Tom, for a light London britschka, the usual team on a rising ground was six horses and three oxen, with about two men per quadruped,—boys and beggars ad libitum, I laughed heartily at it, till it came to paying for them, after which it became one of the worst jokes you can imagine. Onward we went, however, in one fashion or another, walking to "blow the cattle" when the road was level and smooth, and keeping a very pretty hunting-pace when the ruts were deep, and the rocks rugged.
It seemed, to judge from our speed, that our haste was most imminent, for we changed horses at every station with an attempt at despatch that greatly disconcerted the post functionaries, and probably suggested to them grievous doubts about our respectability. After twenty-four hours of this jolting process, I was, as you may suppose, well wearied,—the more so, since my late confinement to bed had made me weak and irritable. Mrs. G., however, seemed to think nothing of it, so that for very shame' sake I could not complain. There is either a greater fund of endurance about women than in men, or else they have a stronger and more impulsive will, overcoming all obstacles in its way, or regarding them as nothing. I assure you, Tom, I'd have pulled up short at any of the villages we passed through and booked myself for a ten-hours' sleep, in that horizontal position that nature intended, but she wouldn't hear of it. "We must get on, dear Mr. Dodd;" "You know how important time is to us;" "Do our best, and we shall be late enough." These and such like were the propositions which I had to assent to, without the very vaguest conception why.
That night seemed to me as if it would never end. I never could close my eyes without dreaming of bailiffs, writs, judges' warrants, and Mrs. D. Then I got the notion into my head that I had been sentenced for some crime or other to everlasting travelling,—an impression, doubtless, suggested by my hearing through my sleep how we were constantly crossing some frontier, and entering a new territory. Now it was Hesse Cassel would pry into our portmanteaus; now it was Bavaria wanted to peep at our passports. Sigmaringen insisted on seeing that we had no concealed fire-arms. Hoch Heckingen searched us for smuggled tobacco. From a deep doze, which to my ineffable shame I discovered I had been taking on my fair companion's shoulder, I was suddenly awakened at daybreak by the roll of a drum, and the clatter of presenting arms. This was a place called Heinfeld, in the Duchy of Saxe-Weimar, where the commandant, supposing us to be royal personages, from our six horses and mounted courier, turned out the guard to salute us. I gave him briefly to understand that we were incog., and we passed on without further molestation.
By noon we reached Eisenach, where, descending at the "Rautenkranz," the head inn, I bolted my door, and, throwing myself on my bed, slept far into the night. When I awoke, the house was all at rest, every one had retired, and in this solitude did I begin the recital of the singular page in my history which is now before you. I felt like one of those storm-tossed mariners who, on some unknown and distant ocean, commit their sorrows to paper, and then enclosing it in a bottle, leave the address to Fortune. I know not if these lines are ever to reach you. I know not who may read them. Perhaps, like Perouse, my fate may be a mystery for future ages. I feel altogether very low about myself.
I was obliged to break off suddenly above, but I am now better. We have been two days here, and I like the place greatly. It lies in the midst of a fine mountain range—the Thuringians—with a deep forest on every side. Up to this we have had no tidings of the Princess, but we pass our time agreeably enough in visiting the remarkable objects in the neighborhood, one of which is the Wartburg, where Luther passed a year of imprisonment.
I have collected some curious materials about the life of this Protestant champion for Father Maher, which will make a considerable sensation at home. There is an armory, too, in the castle of the most interesting kind; but, as usual, all the remarkable warriors were little fellows. The robbers of antiquity were big, but the great characters of chivalry, I remark, were small. The Constable dc Bourbon's armor wouldn't fit Kenny Dodd.
I intend to send off this package to-day, by a "gentleman of the Jewish persuasion," so he styles himself, who is travelling "in the interest of soft soap," and will be in England within a fortnight. Where I shall be myself, by that time, Tom, Heaven alone can tell!
My cash is running very low. I don't think that, above my lawful debts in this place, I could muster twelve pounds, and, after a careful exploration of the locality, I see no spot at all likely to "advance money on good personal security." You must immediately remit me a hundred, or a hundred and fifty, for present emergencies. My humiliation will be terrible if I have to speak about pecuniary matters in a certain quarter; and, as I said before, how long we may remain here, or where proceed when we leave this, I know as much as you do!
I have begun four letters to Mrs. D., but have not satisfied myself that I am on the right tack in any of them. Writing home when you have not heard from it, is like legislation for a distant colony without any clew to the state of public opinion. You may be trying rigorous measures with a people ripe for rebellion, or perhaps refusing some concession that they have just wrested by force. When I think of domestic matters, I am strongly reminded of the Caffre war, for somehow affairs never look so badly as when they seem to promise a peace; and, like Sandilla, Mrs. D. is great at an ambush.
You must write to her, Tom; say that I am greatly distressed at not getting any answers to my letters; that I wrote four,—which is true, though I never sent off any of them. Make a plausible case for my absence out of the present materials, and speak alarmingly about my health, for she knows I have sold my policy of insurance at the Phoenix, and is really uneasy when I look ill.
If I was n't in such a mess, I should be distressed about the family, for I left them at Bonn with a mere trifle. When a man has got an incurable malady, he spends little money on doctoring, and so there is nothing saves fretting so much as being irretrievably ruined. Besides, it is in the world as in the water, it is struggling that drowns you; lie quietly down on your back, don't stir hand or limb, and somebody will be sure to pull you out, though it may chance to be by the hair.
I have often thought, Tom, that life is like the game of chess. It's a fine thing to have the "move," if you play well, but if you don't, take my word for it, it's better to stay quiet, and not budge. This will give you the key to my system; and if I ever get into public life, this, I assure you, shall be "Dodd's Parliamentary Guide."
I have now done, and you 'll say it's time too; but let me tell you, Tom, that when I seal and send off this, I 'll feel myself very lonely and miserable. It was a comfort to me some days back to go every now and then and dot down a line or two-, it kept me from thinking, which was a great blessing. You know how Gibbon felt when he wrote the last sentence of his great history; and although the Rise and Fall of Kenny Dodd be a small matter to posterity, it has a great hold upon his own affections.
I see my pony at the door, and Mrs. G. is already mounted. We are going to some old abbey in the forest, where she is to sketch, and I am to smoke for an hour or two; so good-bye, and remember that my escape from this must depend upon your assistance. This Princess has not yet made her appearance, nor have I the slightest guide as to her future intentions.
There are a quantity of home questions I am anxious to speak about, but must defer the discussion till my next. I have not seen a newspaper since I started on this excursion. I know not who is "in" or "out." I shall learn all these things later on; so, once more, good-bye. Address me at the "Rue Garland," and believe me, faithfully, your friend,
Kenny I. Dodd.
P. S. When you mention to the neighbors having heard from me, it would be as well to say nothing of this little adventure of mine. Say that the Dodds are all well, and enjoying themselves, or something like that. If Mrs. D. has written to old Molly, try and get hold of the epistle, or otherwise I might as well be in the "Hue and Cry." Indeed, I don't see why you could n't stop her letters at the post-office in Bruff.
My dear Molly,—It will be five weeks on Tuesday next since we saw K. I., and except a bit of a note, of which I 'll speak presently, never any tidings of him has reached us! I suppose, within the memory of man, wickedness equal to this has not been heard of. To go and disgrace himself, and, what's more, disgrace us, at his time of life, with two daughters grown up, and a son just going into the world, is a depth of baseness to which the mind cannot ascend.
They 're away in Germany, my dear,—the happy pair! I wish I was near him. I 'd only ask to be for five minutes within reach of him. Faith, I don't think he 'd be so seductive and captivating for a little time to come. They 're off, I hear, to what they call the "Hearts Forest,"—a place, I take from the name, to be the favorite resort of loving couples. From the first day, Molly, I suspected what was coming; for, though James and Mary Anne persisted in saying that he was only gone for a day or two, I went to his drawers and saw that he had taken every stitch of his clothes that was good for anything away with him.
"If he 's only gone for two days," says I, "what does he want with fourteen shirts and four embroidered fronts for dress, not to speak of his new black suit and his undress Deputy-Lieutenant's coat?" I tossed and tumbled over everything, and sure enough there was little left to look at. So you see, Molly, it was all planned before, and the whole was arranged with a cold-blooded duplicity that makes me boil to think over. This wasn't all, either; but he must go and draw a bill on the landlord for a hundred and twenty pounds; and, without the slightest attention to all that we owed in the hotel, or even leaving us a sixpence, away goes my gallant Lutherian, only thinking of love and pleasure!
The half of the McCarthy legacy is gone already to meet these demands and enable us to come on here; and even with that I could n't have done it if it had n't been for Lord George's kindness, for he knows so much about bills, and bankers, and when the exchange is good, and what is the favorable moment to draw upon London, that, as he says himself, one learns at last to "make a pound go as far as five."
As to staying any longer at Bonn, it was out of the question. The whole town was talking of K. I., and everybody used to stop us and ask, with a mournful voice, if we had n't got any tidings of Mr. Dodd?
And now we're here, I must say it is a charming place; and for real life and enjoyment, there 's probably not its equal in Europe. And then, Molly, the great feature is certainly the universal kindness and charity that prevails. You may do what you like, wear what you like, go where you like. I was a little bit afraid at first that the story of K. I. would get abroad and damage us in society; but Lord George said: "You mistake Baden, my dear Mrs. Dodd. If there 's anything they 're peculiarly lenient to, it's just that. There's no cant, no hypocrisy here; nobody would endure such for an hour. Everybody knows that the world is not peopled with angels, and England is the only country where they affect that delusion. Here all are natural, sincere, and candid." These were his words, and I assure you they are no more than the truth; and so far from K. I. 's conduct being regarded in any spirit of unfairness towards us, I really believe that we have met a great deal of delicate and refined notice on account of it. As Lord G. remarks, "They know that you don't belong to that strait-laced set of humbugs that want to frown down all mankind. They see at once that you have the habits of the world, and the instincts of good society, and that you come amongst them neither to criticise nor censure, but to please and be pleased." I quote his very expressions, Molly, because, with all his wildness, his sentiments are invariably beautiful; and I must say that an ill-natured word never comes out of his mouth. If there 's anything he excels in, too, it's tact. This he showed very remarkably when we arrived here. "We must do the thing handsomely," said he, "or we shall be sure to hear that Mr. D.'s absence is owing to pecuniary difficulties." And so, accordingly, he arranged to purchase a beautiful pair of gray ponies, and a small park phaeton, belonging to a young Russian, that was just ruined at the tables. We got the whole equipage for little more than half what it cost, and a tiger—as they call the little boy in buttons—goes with it.
We have taken the first apartment in the "Cour de Bade," and have put Paddy Byrne in a suit of green and gold, that always reminds me of poor Daniel O'Connell. Lord G. drives me out every day himself, and I hear all the passers-by say, "It's Tiverton and Mrs. Dodd," in a manner that shows we 're as well known as the first people in the place. He is acquainted with every man, woman, and child in the town; and it is a perpetual "How are ye, Tiverton?"—"How goes it, George?"—"At the old trade, eh?"—as we drive along, that amuses me greatly. And it isn't only that he knows them personally, but he is familiar with all their private histories. It would fill a book—and a nice volume it would be!—if I were to tell you one-half of the stories he told me yesterday, going down to Lichtenthal. But the names is so confusing. How he remembers them all, I can't conceive.
We go to the rooms in the evening, full dressed, and as fine as you please; and if you saw how the company rises to meet us, and the gracious manner we are received by all the first people, you 'd think we were sisters with half the room. For rank, wealth, and beauty, I never saw its equal; and the "tone," as Lord G. observes, is "so easy." Mary Anne usually dances all night, but I only stand up for a quadrille, though Lord George torments me to polka with him. As for James, he never quits the roulette-table, which is a kind of game where you always win thirty-six times as much as you put down, though maybe occasionally you lose your stake, for it 's all chance, Molly, and, like everything else in this wicked world, in the hands of Fate!
I 'm afraid James does n't understand the game, or forgets to take up his winnings; for when he joins us at supper, he looks depressed and careworn, till he has taken two or three glasses of champagne. Caroline, as you may suppose, stays moping at home. If there's anything distresses me more than another, it's the way that girl goes on. Here we are, in the very thick of the fashion, spending money,—as fast as hops,—ruining ourselves, I may say, with expense; and instead of taking the benefit of it while "it's going," she sits up in her room reading her eyes out of her head, and studying things that no woman need know. As I say to her, "What good is it to you? Will it ever get you a husband, to know that Sir Humphrey Clinker invented the safety-lamp? or do you suppose that any man will take a fancy to you for the sake of your chemistry and eccentricity? Besides," says I, "you could do all this at home, in Dodsborough, and who knows if we should n't be obliged to go back and finish our days in Ireland!" And in my heart and soul I believe it's what she 'd like!
The real affliction in life is to see your children not take after you! That is the most dreadful calamity of all. You toil and you slave to bring them up with high notions, to teach them to look down upon whatever is low and mean, to avoid their poor relations, and whatever disgraces them, and you find, the whole time, 'tis looking back they are to their humble origin, and fancying that they were happier, for no other reason than because they were lower!
It is, maybe, the McCarthy blood in me, but I feel as if the higher I went the lighter I grew; and so it is, I 'm sure, with Mary Anne. I know, from her face across the room, whether she's dancing with a "prince," or only "a gentleman from the United States"! And even in the matter of looks it makes the greatest difference in her. In the one case her eyes sparkle, her head is thrown back, her cheek glows with animation; while in the other she seems half asleep, dances out of time, and probably answers out of place.
From all these facts, I gather, Molly, that there's nothing so elevating to the mind as moving in a rank above your own; and I'm sure I don't forgive myself when I keep company with my equals. I believe James has less of the Dodd and more of the M'Carthy in him than the girls. He takes to the aristocracy so naturally,—calls them by their names, and makes free with them in a way that is really beautiful; and they call him "Jim," or some of them say "Jeemes," just as familiar as himself. I suppose it's no use repining, but I often feel, Molly, that if it was the Lord's will that I was to be left a widow, I 'd see my children high in the world before long.
This reminds me of K. I., and here's his letter for you. I copy it word for word, without note or comma:—
"Dear Jemi,—We are waiting here for the Princess, who has not yet arrived, but is expected to-day or to-morrow at furthest You will be sorry to hear that I was ill and confined for more than a week to my bed at Ems." Will I, indeed? "It was a kind of low fever." I read it a love fever, Molly, when I saw it first "But I am now much better." You never were worse in your life, you old hypocrite, thinks I. "And am able to take a little exercise on horseback.
"The expense of this journey, unavoidable as it was! is very considerable, so that I reckon upon your practising the strictest economy during my absence." I thought I'd choke, Molly, when I seen this. Just think of the daring impudence of the man telling me that while he is lavishing hundreds on his vices and wickedness, the family is to starve to enable him to bear the expense. "The strictest economy during my absence." I wish I was near you when you wrote It!
Then comes in some balderdash about the scenery, and the place they 're at, just as coolly described as if it was talking of Bruff or the neighborhood; the whole winding up with, "Mrs. G. H. desires me to convey her tender regards"—what she can spare, I suppose, without robbing him—"to you and the girls. No time for more, from yours sincerely,
"Kenny James Dodd."
There's an epistle for you! You 'll not find the like of it in the "Polite Letter-Writer," I 'll wager. The father of a family—and such a family too!—discoursing as easily about the height of iniquity as if he was alluding to the state of the weather, or the price of sheep at the last fair. He flatters himself, maybe, that this free-and-easy way is the best to bamboozle me, and that by seeming to make nothing of it, I 'll take the same view as himself. Is that all he knows of me yet? Did he ever succeed in deceiving me during the last seventeen years? Did n't I find him out in twenty things when he did n't know himself of his own depravity? I tell you in confidence, Molly, that if coming abroad is an elegant thing for our sex, it's downright ruin to men of K. I.'s time of life! When they come to fifty, or thereabouts, in Ireland, they settle down to something respectable, either on the Bench, or Guardians to the Union. Their thoughts runs upon green crops and draining, and how to raise a trifle, by way of loan, from the Board of Works. But not having these things, abroad, to engage them, they take to smartening themselves up with polished boots and blackened whiskers, and what between pinching here, and padding there, they get the notion that they 're just what they were thirty years ago! Oh dear! oh dear! sure they 've only to go upstairs a little quick, to stoop to pick up a handkerchief, or button a boot, to detect the mistake, and if that won't do, let them try a polka with a young lady just out for her first season!
Of all the old fools, in this fashion, I never met a worse than K. I.! and what adds to the disgrace, he knows it himself, and he goes on saying, "Sure I 'm too old for this," or "I'm past that;" and I always chime in with, "Of course you are; you 'd cut a nice figure;" and so on. But what's the use of it, Molly? Their vanity and conceit sustains them against all the snubs in the world, and till they come down to a Bath-chair, they never believe that they can't dance a hornpipe! I could say a great deal more on this subject, but I must turn to other things. You must see Purcell and tell him the way we 're left, without a fraction of money, nor knowing where to get it Tell him that I wrote to Waters about a separation, which I would, only that K. I.'s affairs is in such a state, I 'd have to put up with a mere trifle. Say that I 'm going to expose him in the newspapers, and there's "no knowing where I 'll stop," for that's exactly the threat Tom Purcell will be frightened at.
Get him to send me a remittance immediately, and describe our distress and destitution as touchingly as you can.
Here 's more of it, Molly. James has just come in to say that the Ministry is out in England, and that the new Government is giving everything away to the Irish, and that old villain, K. I., not on the spot to ask for a place! James tells me it's the Brigade is to have the best things; but I don't remember if K. I. belongs to it, though I know he's in the Yeomanry. From Lord-Lieutenant down to the letter-carriers, they must be all Irish now, James says. We 're to have Ireland for ourselves, and as much of England as we can, for we 'll never rest till we get perfect equality, and I must say it 's time too!
K. I. is n't fit for much, but maybe he might get something. The Treasury is where he 'd like to be, but I 'm not certain it would suit him. At all events, he 's not to the fore, and I don't think they 'll send to look for him, as they did for Sir Robert Peel! Till we know, however, whether he has a chance of anything, it would be better to keep his present conduct a profound secret, for James remarks "that they make a great fuss about character nowadays;" and it comes well from them, Molly, if the stories I hear be true!
Ask Purcell what's vacant in K. I.'s line? which, you may say, goes from Lunatic Asylums to the Court of Chancery. I don't want James to have an Irish appointment, but he says there's something in Gambia—wherever that is—that he'd like.
As, of course, K. I. and myself can never live together again, it would be very convenient if he was to get something that would require him to stay in Ireland,—either a suspensory magistrate or a place in Newgate would do. You 'll wonder at my troubling myself about a man that behaved as he did; and, indeed, I wonder at myself for it; and what I say is, maybe this might happen, maybe the other, and I 'd be sorry afterwards; and if he was to be taken away suddenly, I 'd like to be sure to have my mind easy, and in a happy frame.
Isn't it dreadful to think that it's about these things my letter is filled, while all the enjoyment in life is going on about me? There's the band underneath my window playing the Railroad Polka, and the crowd round them is princesses and duchesses and countesses, all so elegantly dressed, and looking so sweet and amiable. Every minute the door opens, with an invitation for this or that, or maybe a nosegay of beautiful flowers that a prince with a wonderful name has sent to Mary Anne. And here 's a man with the most tempting jewelry from Vienna, and another with lace and artificial flowers; and all for nothing, Molly, or next to nothing,—if one had a trifle to spend on them. And so we might, too, if K. I. had n't behaved this way.
There's to be a grand ball to-night at the Rooms, and Mary Anne is come to me about her dress; for one thing here is indispensable,—you must never appear twice in the same. For the life of me, I don't know what they do with the old gowns, but Mary Anne and myself has a stock already that would set up a moderate mantua-maker. As to shoes, and gloves too, a second night out of them is impossible, though Mary Anne tries to wear them at small tea-parties. Speaking of this, I must say that girl will be a treasure to the man that gets her; for she has so many ways of turning things to account: there 's not an old lace veil, nor a bit of net, nor even a flower, that she can't find use for, somewhere or other. As to Caroline, she looks like a poor governess; there's no taste nor style whatever about her; and as to a bit of ribbon round her throat, or a cheap brooch, she never wears one! I tell her every day, "You 're a Dodd, my dear,—a regular Dodd. You have no more of the M'Carthy in you than if you never saw me." And, indeed, she takes after the father in everything. She has a dry, sneering way about whatever is genteel or high-bred, and the same liking for anything low and common; but, after all, I 'm lucky to have Mary Anne and James what they are! There 's no position in life that they 're not equal to; and if I 'm not greatly mistaken, it's in the very highest rank they 'll settle down at last This opinion of mine, Molly, is the best and shortest answer I can give to what you ask me in your last letter,—"What's the use of going abroad?" But, indeed, your question—as Lord George remarked, when I told him of it—is, "What's the use of civilization? What's the use of clothes? What's the use of cooked victuals?" You'll say, perhaps, that you have all these in Ireland; and I'll tell you, just as flatly, You have not. You stare with surprise, but I repeat to you, You have not.
An old iron shop in Pill Lane, with bits of brass, broken glass, and old crockery, is just as like Storr and Mortimer's as your Irish habits and ways are like the real world. Why, Molly, there's no breeding nor manners at all! You are all twice too familiar, or what you perhaps would call cordial, with each other; and yet you dare n't, for the life of you, say what every foreigner would say to a lady the first time he ever met her. That's your notion of good manners!
As to your clothes, I get red as a turkey-cock with pure shame when I think of a Dublin bonnet, with a whole botanical garden over it; but, indeed, when one thinks of the dirty streets and the shocking climate, they forgive you for keeping all the finery for the head.
The cookery I won't speak of. There's people can eat it, and much good may it do them; and my heart bleeds when I think of their sufferings. But maybe Ireland is coming round, after all. What I hear is, that when everybody is sold out, matters will begin to mend. I suppose it's just as if the whole country was taking what's called the "Benefit of the Act," and that they'll start fresh again in the world without owing sixpence. If that's the meaning of the Cumbered Estates, it's the best thing ever was done for Ireland, and I only wonder they did n't think of it earlier; for my sure and certain opinion is that there's nothing distresses a man like trying to pay off old debts; and it destroys the spirits besides, for ye 're always saying, "It was n't me that spent this, I had n't any fun for that."
James has just come in with the list of the new Ministry, and among all the Irish appointments I don't see as good a name as K. I.'s; and you may fancy how respectable they are after that! But the truth is, Molly, it's the same with politics as with the potatoes: one is satisfied to put up with anything in a famine. K. I. used to say that when he was young, his Irish name would have excluded him as much from any chance of office as if he was a Red Indian; but times is changed now, and I see two or three in the list that their colleagues will never pronounce rightly,—and that, at least, is something gained.
And just to think of it, Molly! Who knows, if K. I. wasn't disgracing himself this minute, that he would n't be high in the Administration? I remember the time when it was only Lord James this, or Sir Michael that, got anything; but now you may remark that it's maybe a fellow would rob the mail is a Lord of the Treasury, and one that would take fright at his own shadow is made Clerk of the Ordnance. That's a great "step in the right direction," Molly, and it shows, besides, that we 're daily living down obscene and antiquated prejudices.
You like a long letter, you say, and I hope you 'll be satisfied with this, for I 'm four days over it; but, to be sure, half the time is spent crying over the barbarous treatment I 've met from K. I. That you may never know what it is to have a like grief, is the prayer of your affectionate friend,
Jemima Dodd.
P. S. Mary Anne sends her love and regards, and Cary, too, desires to be remembered to you. She is longing to have old Tib here, as if a black cat would be anything remarkable on the Continent But that 's the way with her. All the Dodsborough geese are swans in her estimation.