Tiverton told me I must at once go to our Legation and represent the case. "Be stout about it," said he; "say she must be liberated in half an hour. Make the Minister understand you are somebody, and won't stand any humbug. I 'd go," he added, "but I can't do anything against the present Government." A knowing wink accompanied this speech, and though I didn't see the force of the remark, I winked too, and said nothing.
"What language does he speak?" said I, at last.
"Our Minister? English, of course!"
"In that case I 'm off at once;" and away I drove to the Legation. The Minister was engaged. Called again,—he was out. Called later,—he was in conference with the Foreign Secretary. Later still,—he was dressing for dinner. Tipped his valet a Nap. and sent in my card, with a pressing entreaty to be admitted. Message brought back, quite impossible,—must call in the morning. Another Nap. to the flunkey, and asked his advice.
"His Excellency receives this evening,—come as one of the guests."
I did n't half like this counsel, Tom; it was rather an obtrusive line of policy, but what was to be done? I thought for a few minutes, and, seeing no chance of anything better, resolved to adopt it. At ten o'clock, then, behold me ascending a splendidly illuminated staircase, with marble statues on either side, half hid amidst all manner of rare and beautiful plants. Crowds of splendidly dressed people are wending their way upward with myself—doubtless with lighter hearts—which was not a difficult matter. At the top, I find myself in a dense crowd, all a blaze of diamonds and decorations, gorgeous uniforms and jewelled dresses of the most costly magnificence.
I assure you I was perfectly lost in wonderment and admiration. The glare of wax-lights, the splendor of the apartments themselves, and the air of grandeur on every side actually dazzled and astounded me. At each instant I heard the title of Duke and Prince given to some one or other. "Your Highness is looking better;" "I trust your Grace will dance;" "Is the Princess here?" "Pray present me to the Duchess." Egad, Tom, I felt I was really in the very centre of that charmed circle of which one hears so much and yet sees so little.
I need n't say that I knew nobody, and I own to you it was a great relief to me that nobody knew me. Where should I find the Minister in all this chaos of splendor, and if I did succeed, how obtain the means of addressing him? These were very puzzling questions to be solved, and by a brain turning with excitement, and half wild between astonishment and apprehension. On I went, through room after room,—there seemed no end to this gorgeous display. Here they were crushed together, so that stars, crosses, epaulettes, diamond coronets, and jewelled arms seemed all one dense mass; here they were broken into card-parties; here they were at billiards; here dancing; and here all were gathered around a splendid buffet, where the pop, pop of champagne corks explained the lively sallies of the talkers. I was not sorry to find something like refreshment; indeed, I thought my courage stood in need of a glass of wine, and so I set myself vigorously to pierce the firm and compact crowd in front of me. My resolve had scarcely been taken, when I felt a gentle but close pressure within my arm, and on looking down, saw three fingers of a white-gloved hand on my wrist.
I started back; and even before I could turn my head, Tom, I heard a gentle voice murmur in my ear, "Dear creature,—how delighted to see you!—when did you arrive?" and my eyes fell upon Mrs. Gore Hampton! There she was, in all the splendor of full dress, which, I am bound to say, in the present instance meant as small an amount of raiment as any one could well venture out in. That I never saw her look half so beautiful is quite true. Her combs of brilliants set off her glossy hair, and added new brilliancy to her eyes, while her beauteous neck and shoulders actually shone in the brightness of its tints. I bethought me of the "Splügen," Tom, and the cold insolence of her disdain. I tried to summon up indignation to reproach her, but she anticipated me, by saying, with a bewitching smile, "Adolphus isn't here now, Doddy!" Few as the words were, Tom, they revealed a whole history,—they were apology for the past, and assurance for the present. "Still," said I, "you might have—" "What a silly thing it is!" said she, putting her fan on my lips; "and it wants to quarrel with me the very moment of meeting; but it must n't and it sha'n't. Get me some supper, Doddy,—an oyster patty, if there be one,—if not, an ortolan truffé."
This at least was a good sensible speech, and so I wedged firmly into the mass, and, by dint of very considerable pressure, at length landed my fair friend at the buffet. It was, I must say, worth all the labor. There was everything you can think of, from sturgeon to Maraschino jelly, and wines of every land of Europe. It was a good opportunity to taste some rare vintages, and so I made a little excursion through Marcobrunner to Johannisberg, and thence on to Steinberger. Leaving the Rhine land, I coquetted awhile with Burgundy, especially Chambertin, back again, however, to Champagne, for the sake of its icy coldness, to wind up with some wonderful Schumlawer,—a Hungariau tap,—that actually made me wish I had been born a hussar.
It is no use trying to explain to you the tangled maze of my poor bewitched faculties. You, whose experiences in such trials have not gone beyond a struggle for a ham sandwich, or a chicken bone for some asthmatic old lady in black satin,—you can neither comprehend my situation nor compassion ate my difficulties. How shall I convey to your uninformed imagination the bewitching effects of wine, beauty, heat, light, music, soft words, soft glances, blue eyes, and snowy shoulders? I may give you all the details, but you 'll never be able to blend them into that magic mass that melts the heart, and makes such fools of the Kenny Dodds of this world. There is such a thing, believe me, as "an atmosphere of enchantment." There are elements which compose a magical air around you, perfumed with odors, and still more entrancing by flatteries. The appeal is now to your senses, now to your heart, your affections, your intellect, your sympathies; your very self-love is even addressed, and you are more than man, at least more than an Irishman, if you resist.
Egad, Tom, she is a splendid woman! and has that air of gentleness and command about her that somehow subdues you at once. Her little cajoleries—those small nothings of voice and look and touch—are such subtle tempters for one admired even to homage itself.
"You must be my escort, Doddy," said she, drawing on her glove, after fascinating me by the sight of that dimpled hand, and those rose-tipped fingers so full of their own memories for me. "You shall give me your arm, and I'll tell you who every one is." And away we sailed out of the supper-room into the crowded salons.
Our progress was slow, for the crush was tremendous; but, as we went, her recognitions were frequent. Still, I could not but remark, not with women. All, or nearly all, her acquaintances were of, I was going to say the harder, but upon my life I believe the real epithet would be the softer sex. They saluted her with an easy, almost too easy, familiarity. Some only smiled; and one, a scoundrel,—I shall know him again, however,—threw up his eyes with a particular glance towards me, as plainly as possible implying, "Oh, another victim, eh?" As for the ladies, some stared full at her, and then turned abruptly away; some passed without looking; one or two made her low and formal courtesies; and a few put up their glasses to scan her lace flounce or her lappets, as if they were really the great objects to be admired. At last we came to a knot of men talking in a circle round a very pretty woman, whose jet-black eyes and ringlets, with a high color, gave her a most brilliant appearance. The moment she saw Mrs. G. H. she sprang from her seat to embrace her. They spoke in French, and so rapidly that I could catch nothing of what passed; but the dark eyes were suddenly darted towards me with a piercing glance that made me half ashamed.
"Let us take possession of that sofa," said Mrs. Gore, moving towards one. "And now, Doddy, I want to present you to my dearest friend on earth, my own darling Georgina."
Then they both kissed, and I muttered some stupid nonsense of my own.
"This, Georgy,—this is that dear creature of whom you have heard me speak so often; this is that generous, noble-hearted soul whose devotion is written upon my heart; and this," said she, turning to the other side, "this is my more than sister,—my adored Georgina!"
I took my place between them on the sofa, and was formally presented to whom?—guess you? No less a person than Lady George Tiverton! Ay, Tom, the fascinating creature with the dark orbs was another injured woman! I was not to be treated like a common acquaintance, it seemed, for "Georgy" began a recital of her husband's cruelties to me. Of all the wretches I ever heard or read he went far beyond them. There was not an indignity, not an outrage, he had not passed on her. He studied cruelties to inflict upon her. She had been starved, beaten, bruised, and, I believe, chained to a log.
She drew down her dress to show me some mark of cruelty on her shoulder; and though I saw nothing to shock me, I took her word for the injury. In fact, Tom, I was lost in wonderment how one that had gone through so much not only retained the loveliness of her looks, but all the fascinations of her beauty, unimpaired by any traits of suffering.
What a terrible story it was, to be sure! Now he had sold her diamonds to a Jew; now he had disposed of her beautiful dark hair to a wig-maker. In his reckless extravagance her very teeth were not safe in her head; but more dreadful than all were the temptations he had exposed her to,—sweet, young, artless, and lovely as she was! All the handsome fellows about town,—all that was gay, dashing, and attractive,—the young Peerage and the Blues,—all at her feet; but her saintlike purity triumphed; and it was really quite charming to hear how these two pretty women congratulated each other on all the perils they had passed through unharmed, and the dangers through which virtue had borne them triumphant. There I sat, Tom, almost enveloped in gauze and Valenciennes,—for their wide flounces encompassed me, their beauteous faces at either side, their soft breath fanning me,—listening to tales of man's infamy that made my blood boil. To the excitement of the champagne had succeeded the delirious intoxication compounded of passionate indignation and glowing admiration; and at any minute I felt ready to throw myself at the heads of the husbands or the feet of their wives!
Vast crowds moved by us as we sat there, and I could perceive that we were by no means unnoticed by the company. At last I perceived an elderly lady, leaning on a young man's arm, whom I thought I recognized; but she quickly averted her head and said something to her companion. He turned and bowed coldly to me; and I perceived it was Morris,—or Penrhyn, I suppose he calls himself now; and, indeed, his new dignity would seem to have completely overcome him. Mrs. G. H. asked his name; and when I told it, said she would permit me to present him to her,—a liberty I had no intention to profit by.
The company was now thinning fast; and so, giving an arm to each of my fair friends, we descended to the cloak-ing-room. "Call our carriage, Doddy,—the Villino Amaldini! for Georgy and I go together," said Mrs. G. I saw them to the door, helped them in, kissed their hands, promised to call on them early on the morrow,—"Villa Amaldini,—Via Amaldini,"—got the name by heart; another squeeze of the two fair hands, and away they rolled, and I turned homeward in a frame of mind of which I have not courage to attempt the description.
When I arrived at our lodgings, it was nigh three o'clock; Mary Anne and Cary were both sitting up waiting for me. The police had made a descent on the house in my absence, and carried away three hundred and seventy copies of the blessed little tract, all our house bills, some of your letters, and the girls' Italian exercises; a very formidable array of correspondence, to which some equations in algebra, by James, contributed the air of a cipher.
"Well, papa, what tidings?" cried both the girls, as I entered the room. "When is she to be liberated? What says the Minister?—is he outrageous?—was he civil?—did he show much energy?"
"Wait a bit, my dears," said I, "and let me collect myself. After all I have gone through, my head is none of the clearest."
This was quite true, Tom, as you may readily believe. They both waited, accordingly, with a most exemplary patience; and there we sat in silence, confronting each other; and I own to you honestly, a criminal in a dock never had a worse conscience than myself at that moment.
"Girls," said I, at last, "if I am to have brains to carry me through this difficult negotiation, it will only be by giving me the most perfect peace and tranquillity. No questioning—no interrogation—no annoyance of any kind—you understand me—this," said I, touching my forehead,—"this must be undisturbed." They both looked at each other without speaking, and I went on; but what I said, and how I said it, I have no means of knowing: I dashed intrepidly into the wide sea of European politics, mixing up Mrs. D. with Mazzini, making out something like a very strong case against her. From that I turned to Turkey and the Danubian Provinces, and brought in Omer Pasha and the Earl of Guzeberry; plainly showing that their mother was a wronged and injured woman, and that Sir Somebody Dundas might be expected any moment at the mouth of the Arno, to exact redress for her wrongs. "And now," said I, winding up, "you know as much of the matter as I do, my dears; you view things from the same level as myself; and so, off to bed, and we 'll resume the consideration of the subject in the morning." I did n't wait for more, but took my candle and departed.
"Poor papa!" said Mary Anne, as I closed the door; "he talks quite wildly. This sad affair has completely affected his mind."
"He certainly does talk most incoherently," said Cary; "I hope we shall find him better in the morning." Ah! Tom, I passed a wretched night of self-accusation and sorrow. There was nothing Mrs. D. herself could have said to me that I did n't say. I called myself a variety of the hardest names, and inveighed stoutly against my depravity and treachery. The consequence was that I couldn't sleep a wink, and rose early, to try and shake off my feverish state by a walk.
I sallied out into the streets, and half unconsciously took the way to the prison. It was one of those old feudal fortresses—half jail, half palace—that the Medici were so fond of,—grim-looking, narrow-windowed, high-battlemented buildings, that stand amidst modern edifices as a mailed knight might stand in a group of our every-day dandies. I looked up at its dark and sullen front with a heavy and self-reproaching heart. "Your wife is there, Kenny Dodd," said I, "a prisoner!—treated like a malefactor and a felon!—carried away by force, without trial or investigation, and already sentenced—for a prisoner is under sentence when even passingly deprived of liberty—and there you stand, powerless and inactive! For this you quitted a land where there is at least a law, and the appeal to it open to every one! For this you have left a country where personal liberty can be assailed neither by tyranny nor corruption! For this you have come hundreds of miles away from home, to subject yourself and those belonging to you to the miserable despotism of petty tyrants and the persecution of bigots! Why don't they print it in large letters in every passport what one has to expect in these journeyings? What nonsense it is to say that Kenny Dodd is to travel at his pleasure, and that the authorities themselves are neither to give nor 'permettre qu'il lui soit donné empêchement quelconque, mais au contraire toute aide et assistance!' Why not be frank, and say, 'Kenny Dodd comes abroad at his own proper risk and peril, to be cheated in Belgium, bamboozled in Holland, and blackguarded on the Rhine; with full liberty to be robbed in Spain, imprisoned in Italy, and knouted in Russia'? With a few such facts as these before you, you would think twice on the Tower Stairs, and perhaps deliberate a little at Dover. It's no use making a row because foreigners do not adopt our notions. They have no Habeas Corpus, just as they have no London Stout,—maybe for the same reason, too,—it would n't suit the climate. But what brings us amongst them! There's the question. Why do we come so far away from home to eat food that disagrees with us, and live under laws we cry out against? Is it consistent with common-sense to run amuck through the statutes of foreign nations just out of wilfulness? I wish my wife was out of that den, and I wish we were all back in Dodsborough." And with that wise reflection, uttered in all the fulness of my heart, I turned slowly away and reached the Arno. A gentleman raised his hat politely to me as I passed. I turned hastily, and saw it was Morris. His salute was a cold one, and showed no inclination for nearer acquaintance; but I was too much humiliated in my own esteem to feel pride, so I followed and overtook him. His reception of me was so chilling, Tom, that even before I spoke I regretted the step I had adopted. I rallied, however, and after reminding him how on a former occasion I had been benefited by his able intervention in my behalf, briefly told him of Mrs. D.'s arrest, and the great embarrassment I felt as to the course to be taken.
He thawed in a moment. All his distance was at once abandoned, and, kindly offering me his arm, begged me to relate what had occurred. He listened calmly, patiently,—I might almost say, coldly. He never dropped a sentence,—not a syllable like sympathy or condolence. He had n't as much as a word of honest indignation against the outrageous behavior of the authorities. In fact, Tom, he took the whole thing just as much as a matter of course as if there was nothing remarkable nor strange in imprisoning an Englishwoman, and the mother of a family. He made a few pencil notes in his pocket-book as to dates and such-like, and then, looking at his watch, said,—
"We'll go and breakfast with Dunthorpe. You know him intimately, don't you?"
I had to confess I did not know him at all.
"Oh! seeing you there last night," said he, "I thought you knew him well, as you are only a very short time in Florence."
I drew a long breath, Tom, and told him how I had happened to find myself at the Minister's "rout." He smiled good-humoredly; there was nothing offensive in it, however, and it passed off at once.
"Sir Alexander and I are old friends," said he. "We served in the same regiment once together, and I can venture to present you, even at this early hour;" and with that we walked briskly on towards the Legation.
All this while Morris—I can't call him by his new name yet—never alluded to the family; he did n't even ask after James, and I plainly saw that he was bent on doing a very good-natured thing, without any desire to incur further intimacy as its consequence.
Sir Alexander had not left his room when we arrived, but on receiving Morris's card sent word to say he should be down in a moment, and expected us both at breakfast. The table was spread in a handsome library, with every possible appliance of comfort about it. There was a brisk wood-fire blazing on the ample hearth, and a beautiful Blenheim asleep before it. Newspapers of every country and every language lay scattered about with illustrated journals and prints. Most voluptuous easy-chairs and fat-cushioned sofas abounded, and it was plain to see that the world has some rougher sides than she turns to her Majesty's Envoys and Ministers Plenipotentiary!
I was busy picturing to myself what sort of person the present occupant of this post was likely to prove, when he entered. A tall, very good-looking man, of about forty, with bushy whiskers of white hair; his air and bearing the very type of frankness, and his voice the rich tone of a manly speaker. He shook me cordially by the hand as Morris introduced me, apologized for keeping us waiting, and at once seated us at table. A sickly-looking lad, with sore eyes and a stutter, slipped unobtrusively in after him, and he was presented to us as Lord Adolphus de Maudley, the unpaid Attaché.
Leaving all to Morris, and rightly conjecturing that he would open the subject we came upon at the fitting time, I attacked a grouse-pie most vigorously, and helped myself freely to his Excellency's Bordeaux. There were all manner of good things, and we did them ample justice, even to the Unpaid himself, who certainly seemed to take out in prog what they denied him in salary.
Sir Alexander made all the running as to talk. He rattled away about Turks and Russians,—affairs home and foreign,—the Ministry and the Opposition,—who was to go next to some vacant embassy, and who was to be the prima donna at the Pergola. Then came Florence gossip,—an amusing chapter; but perhaps—as they say in the police reports—not quite fit for publication. His Excellency had seen the girls at the races, and complimented me on their good looks, and felicitated the city on the accession of so much beauty. At last Morris broke ground, and related the story of Mrs. D.'s captivity. Sir Alex—who had by this time lighted his cigar—stood with his hands in his dressing-gown pockets, and his back to the fire, the most calm and impassive of listeners.
"They are so stupid, these people," said he at last, puffing his weed between each word; "won't take the trouble to look before them—won't examine—won't investigate—a charge. Mrs. Dodd a Catholic too?"
"A most devout and conscientious one!" said I.
"Great bore for the moment, no doubt; but—try a cheroot, they 're milder—but, as I was saying, to be amply recompensed hereafter. There's nothing they won't do in the way of civility and attention to make amends for this outrage."
"Meanwhile, as to her liberation?" said Morris.
"Ah! that is a puzzle. No use writing to Ministers, you know. That's all lost time. Official correspondence—only invented to train up our youth—like Lord Dolly, there. Must try what can be done with Bradelli."
"And who is Bradelli, your Excellency?"
"Bradelli is Private Secretary to the Cardinal Boncelli, at Rome."
"But we are in Tuscany."
"Geographically speaking, so we are. But leave it to me, Mr. Dodd. No time shall be lost. Draw up a note, Dolly, to the Prince Cigalaroso. You have a mem. in the Chancellerie will do very well. The English are always in scrapes, and it is always the same: 'Mon cher Prince,—Je regrette infiniment que mes devoirs m'imposent,' &c., &c, with a full account of the 'fâcheux incident,'—that's the phrase, mind that, Dolly; do everything necessary for the Blue Book, and in the meanwhile take care that Mrs. D. is out of prison before the day is over."
I was surprised to find how little Sir Alexander cared for the real facts of the case, or the gross injustice of the entire proceeding. In fact, he listened to my explanations on this head with as much impatience as could consist with his unquestionable good breeding, simply interpolating as I went on: "Ah, very true;" "Your observation is quite correct;" "Perfectly just," and so on. "Can you dine here to-day, Mr. Dodd?" said he, as I finished; "Penrhyn is coming, and a few other friends."
I had some half scruples about accepting a dinner invitation while my wife remained a prisoner, but I thought, "After all, the Minister must be the best judge of such a point," and accordingly said "Yes." A most agreeable dinner it was too, Tom. A party of seven at a round table, admirably served, and with—what I assure you is growing rather a rarity nowadays—a sufficiency of wine.
The Minister himself proved most agreeable; his long residence abroad had often brought him into contact with amusing specimens of his own countrymen, some of whose traits and stories he recounted admirably, showing me that the Dodds are only the species of a very widely extended and well-appreciated genus.
I own to you that I heard, with no small degree of humiliation, how prone we English are to demand money compensations for the wrongs inflicted upon us by foreign governments. As the information came from a source I cannot question, I have only to accept the fact, and deplore it.
As a nation, we are, assuredly, neither mean nor mercenary. As individuals, I sincerely hope and trust we can stand comparison in all that regards liberality of purse with any people. Yet how comes it that we have attained to an almost special notoriety for converting our sorrows into silver, and making our personal injuries into a credit at our banker's? I half suspect that the tone imparted to the national mind by our Law Courts is the true reason of this, and that our actions for damages are the damaging features of our character as a people. The man who sees no indignity in taking the price of his dishonor, will find little difficulty in appraising the value of an insult to his liberty. Take my word for it, Tom, it is a very hard thing to make foreigners respect the institutions of a country stained with this reproach, or believe that a people can be truly high-minded and high-spirited who have recourse to such indemnities.
From what fell from Sir Alexander on this subject, I could plainly perceive the embarrassment a Minister must labor under, who, while asserting the high pretensions of a great nation, is compelled to descend to such ignoble bargains; and I only wish that the good public at home, as they pore over Blue Books, would take into account this very considerable difficulty.
As regards foreign governments themselves, it is right to bear in mind that they rarely or never can be induced to believe the transgressions of individuals as anything but parts of a grand and comprehensive scheme of English interference. If John Bull smuggle a pound of tea, it is immediately set down that England is going to alter the Custom Laws. Let him surreptitiously steal his fowling-piece over the frontier, and we are accused of "arming the disaffected population." A copy of a tract is construed into a treatise on Socialism; and a "Jim-Crow" hat is the symbol of Republican doctrines.
I see the full absurdity of these suspicions, but I wish, for our own comfort's sake, to take no higher ground, that we were somewhat more circumspect in our conduct abroad. "Rule Britannia" is a very fine tune, and nobody likes to hear it, well sung, better than myself; but this I will say, Tom, Britons ever will be slaves to their prejudices and self-delusions, until they come to see that their notions of right and wrong are not universal, and that there is no more faulty impression than to suppose an English standard of almost anything applicable to people who have scarcely a thought, a feeling, or even a prejudice in common with us.
One might almost fancy that the travelling Englishman loved a scrape from the pleasure it afforded him of addressing his Minister, and making a fuss in the "Times." Just as a fellow who knew he had a cork jacket under his waistcoat might take pleasure in falling overboard and attracting public attention, without incurring much risk.
While we were discussing these and such-like topics, there came a note from James to say that Mrs. Dodd had just been liberated, and was then safe in what is popularly called the bosom of her family. I accordingly arose and thanked Sir Alexander most heartily for his kind and successful interference, and though I should not have objected to another glass or two of his admirable port, I felt it was only decent and becoming in me to hasten home to my wife.
As Morris had shown so much good-nature in the affair, and had—formerly, at least—been on very friendly terms with us, I asked him to come along with me; but he declined, with a kind of bashful reserve that I could not comprehend; and so, half offended at his coldness, I wished him a "good-night," and departed.
I have now only to add that I found Mrs. D. in good health and spirits, and, on the whole, rather pleased with the incident than otherwise. You shall hear from me again erelong, and meanwhile believe me,
Your ever faithful friend,
Kenny James Dodd.
My dear Molly,—So you tell me that the newspapers is full of me, and that nothing is talked of but "the case of Mrs. Dodd" and her "cruel incarnation in the dungeons of Tuscany." I wish they 'd keep their sympathies to themselves, Molly, for, to tell you a secret, this same captivity has done us the greatest service in the world. Here we are, my darling, at the top of the tree,—going to all the balls, dining out every day, and treated with what they call the most distinguished consideration. And I must say, Molly, that of all the cities ever I seen, Florence is the most to my taste. There's a way of living here,—I can't explain how it is done, exactly; but everybody has just what he likes of everything. I believe it 's the bankers does it,—that they have a way of exchanging, or discounting, or whatever it is called, that makes every one at their ease; and, indeed, my only surprise is why everybody does n't come to live in a place with so many advantages. Even K. I. has ceased grumbling about money matters, and for the last three weeks we have really enjoyed ourselves. To be sure, now and then, he mumbles about "as well to be hanged for a sheep as a lamb;" and this morning he said that he was "too old to beg," to "dig he was ashamed." "I hope you are," says I; "it is n't in your station in life that you can go out as a navvy, and with your two daughters the greatest beauties in the town." And so they are, Molly. There isn't the like of Mary Anne in the Cascini; and though Caroline won't give herself fair play in the way of dress, there's many thinks she 's the prettiest of the two.
I wish you saw the Cascini, Molly, when the carriages all drive up, and get mixed together, so that you would wonder how they 'd ever get out again. They are full of elegantly dressed ladies; there's nothing too fine for them, even in the morning, and there they sit, and loll back, with all the young dandies lying about them, on the steps of the carriages, over the splash-boards,—indeed, nearly under the wheels,—squeezing their hands, looking into their eyes and under their veils. Oh dear, but it seems mighty wicked till you 're used to it, and know it 's only the way of the place, which one does remarkably soon. The first thing strikes a stranger here, Molly, is that everybody knows every other body most intimately. It's all "Carlo," "Luigi," "Antonio mio," with hands clasped or arms about each other, and everlasting kissing between the women. And then, Molly, when you see a newly arrived English family in the midst of them, with a sulky father, a stiff mother, three stern young ladies, and a stupid boy of sixteen, you think them the ugliest creatures on earth, and don't rightly know whether to be angry or laugh at them.
Lord George says that the great advantage of the Cascini is that you hear there "all that's going on." Faith, you do, Molly, and nice goings-on it is! The Florentines say they 've no liberty. I 'd like to know how much more they want, for if they haven't it by right, Molly, they take it at all events, and with everybody too. The creatures, all rings and chains, beards and moustaches, come up to the side of your carriage, put up their opera-glasses, and stare at you as if you was waxwork! Then they begin to discuss you, and almost fall out about the color of your hair or your eyes, till one, bolder than the rest, comes up close to you, and decides what is maybe a wager! It's all very trying at first,—not but Mary Anne bears it beautifully, and seems never to know that she is standing under a battery of fifty pair of eyes!
As to James, it's all paradise. He knows all the beauties of the town already, and I see him with his head into a brougham there, and his legs dangling out of a phaeton here, just as if he was one of the family. You may think, Molly, when they begin that way of a morning, what it is when they come to the evening! If they 're all dear friends in the daylight, it 's brothers and sisters—no, but husbands and wives—they become, when the lamps are lighted! Whether they walk or waltz, whether they hand you to a seat or offer you an ice, they 've an art to make it a particular attention,—and, as it were, put you under an obligation for it; and whether you like it or not, Molly, you are made out in their debt, and woe to you when they discover you 're a defaulter!
I 'm sure, without Lord George's advice, we could n't have found the right road to the high society of this place so easily; but he told K. I. at once what to do,—and for a wonder, Molly, he did it. Florence, says he, is like no other capital in Europe. In all the others there is a circle, more or less wide, of what assumes to be "the world;" there every one is known, his rank, position, and even his fortune. Now in Florence people mix as they do at a Swiss table d'hôte; each talks to his neighbor, perfectly aware that he may be a blackleg, or she—if it be a she—something worse. That society is agreeable, pleasant, and brilliant is the best refutation to all the cant one hears about freedom of manners, and so on. And, as Lord G. observes, it is manifestly a duty with the proper people to mingle with the naughty ones, since it is only in this way they can hope to reclaim them. "Take those two charming girls of yours into the world here, Mrs. D.," said he to me the other day; "show the folks that beauty, grace, and fascination are all compatible with correct principles and proper notions; let them see that you yourself, so certain of attracting admiration, are not afraid of its incense; say to society, as it were, 'Here we are, so secure of ourselves that we can walk unharmed through all the perils around us, and enjoy health and vigor with the plague on every side of us.'" And that's what we 're doing, Molly. As Lord George says, "we 're diffusing our influence," and I 've no doubt we 'll see the results before long.
I wish I was as sure of K. I.'s goings-on; but Betty tells me that he constantly receives letters of a morning, and hurries out immediately after; that he often drives away late at night in a hackney-coach, and does n't return till nigh morning! I 'm only waiting for him to buy us a pair of carriage-horses to be at him about this behavior; and, indeed, I think he 's trying to push me on to it, to save him from the expense of the horses. I must tell you, Molly, that next to having no character, the most fashionable thing here is a handsome coach; and, indeed, without something striking in that way, you can't hope to take society by storm. With a phaeton and a pair of blood bays, James says, you can drive into Prince Walleykoffsky's drawing-room; with a team of four, you can trot them up the stairs of the Pitti Palace.
After a coach, comes your cook; and is n't my heart broke trying them! We've had a round of "experimental dinners," that has cost us a little fortune, since each "chef" that came was free to do what he pleased, without regard to the cost, and an eatable morsel never came to the table all the while. Our present artist is Monsieur Chardron, who goes out to market in a brougham, and buys a turkey with kid gloves on him. He won't cook for us except on company days, but leaves us to his "aide," as he calls him, whom K. I. likes best, for he condescends to give us a bit of roast meat, now and then, that has really nourishment in it. We 're now, therefore, in a state to open the campaign. We 've an elegant apartment, a first-rate cook, a capital courier; and next week we 're to set up a chasseur, if K. I. will only consent to be made a Count.
You may stare, Molly, when I tell you that he fights against it as if it was the Court of Bankruptcy; though Lord George worked night and clay to have it done. There never was the like of it for cheapness; a trifle over twenty pounds clears the whole expense; and for that he would be Count Dodd, of Fiezole, with a title to each of the children. As many thousands would n't do that in England; and, indeed, one does n't wonder at the general outcry of the expense of living there, when the commonest luxuries are so costly. Mary Anne and I are determined on it, and before the month is over your letters will be addressed to a Countess.
In the middle of all this happiness, my dear, there is a drop of bitter, as there always is in the cup of life, though you may do your best not to taste it. Indeed, if it was n't for this drawback, Florence would be a place I 'd like to live and die in. What I allude to is this: here we are be-tween two fires, Molly,—the Morrises on one side, and Mrs. Gore Hampton on the other,—both watching, scrutinizing, and observing us; for, as bad luck would have it, they both settled down here for the winter! Now, the Morrises know all the quiet, well-behaved, respectable people, that one ought to be acquainted with just for decency's sake. But Mrs. G. H. is in the fashionable and fast set, where all the fun is going on; and from what I can learn them 's the very people would suit us best. Being in neither camp, we hear nothing but the abuse and scandal that each throws on the other; and, indeed, to do them justice, if half of it was true, there's few of them ought to escape hanging!
That's how we stand; and can you picture to yourself a more embarrassing situation? for you see that many of the slow people are high in station and of real rank, while some of the fast are just the reverse. Lord George says, "Cut the fogies, and come amongst the fast 'uns," and talks about making friends with the "Mammoth of unrighteousness;" and if he means Mrs. G. H., I believe he is n't far wrong: but even if we consented, Molly, I don't know whether she 'd make up with us; though Lord George swears that he 'll answer for it with his head. One thing is clear, Molly, we must choose between them, and that soon too; for it's quite impossible to be "well with the Treasury and the Opposition also."
K. I. affects neutrality, just to blind us to his real intentions; but I know him well, and see plainly what he 's after. Cary fights hard for her friends; though, to say the truth, they have n't taken the least notice of her since they came to their fortune,—the very thing I expected from them, Molly, for it's just the way with all upstarts! Now you see some of the difficulties that attend even the highest successes in life; and maybe it will make you more contented with your own obscurity. Perhaps, before this reaches you, we'll have decided for one or the other; for, as Lord G. says, you can't pass your life between silly and crabbed.(1)
There 's another thing fretting me, besides, Molly. It is what this same Lord George means about Mary Anne; for it's now more than six months since he grew particular; and yet there 's nothing come of it yet. I see it's preying on the girl herself, too,—and what's to be done? I am sure I often think of what poor old Jones McCarthy used to say about this: "If I 'd a family of daughters," says he, "I 'd do just as I manage with the horses when I want to sell one of them. There they are,—look at them as long as you like in the stable, but I 'll have no taking them out for a trial, and trotting them here, and cantering them there; and then, a fellow coming to tell me that they have this, that, and the other." And the more I think of it, Molly, the more I'm convinced it's the right way; though it's too late, maybe, to help it now.
As I mean to send you another letter soon, I 'll close this now, wishing you all the compliments of the season, except chilblains, and remain your true and affectionate friend,
Jemima Dodd.
P. S. You 'd better direct your next letter to us "Casa Dodd," for I remark that all the English here try and get rid of the Italian names to the houses as soon as they can.
Florence.
My dear Bob,—If you only knew how difficult it is to obtain even five minutes of quiet leisure in this same capital, you 'd at once absolve me from all the accusations in your last letter. It is pleasure at a railroad pace, from morning till night, and from night till morning. Perhaps, after all, it is best there should be no time for reflection, since it would be like one waiting on the rails for an express train to run over him!
I can give you no better nor speedier illustration of the kind of life we lead here, than by saying that even the governor has felt the fascination of the place, and goes the pace, signing checks and drawing bills without the slightest hesitation, or any apparent sense of a coming responsibility. He plays, too, and loses his money freely, and altogether comports himself as if he had a most liberal income, or—terrible alternative—not a sixpence in the world. I own to you, Bob, that this recklessness affrights me far more than all his former grumbling over our expensive and wasteful habits. He seems to have adopted it, too, with a certain method that gives it all the appearance of a plan, though I confess what possible advantage could redound from it is utterly beyond my power of calculation.
Meanwhile our style of living is on a scale of splendor that might well suit the most ample fortune. Tiverton says that for a month or two this is absolutely necessary, and that in society, as in war, it is the first dash often decides a campaign. And really, even my own brief experience of the world shows that one's friends, as they are conventionally called, are far more interested in the skill of your cook than in the merits of your own character; and that he who has a good cellar may indulge himself in the luxury of a very bad conscience. You, of course, suspect that I am now speaking of a class of people dubious both in fortune and position, and who have really no right to scrutinize too closely the characters of those with whom they associate. Quite the reverse, Bob, I am actually alluding to our very best and most correct English, and who would not for worlds do at home any one of the hundred transgressions they commit abroad. For instance, we have, in this goodly capital of debt and divorce celebrity, a certain house of almost princely splendor; the furniture, plate, pictures, all perfection; the cook, an artist that once pampered royal palates; in a word, everything, from the cellar to the conservatory, a miracle of correct taste. The owner of all this magnificence is—what think you?—a successful swindler!—the hero of a hundred bubble speculations,—the spoliator of some thousands of shareholders,—a fellow whose infractions have been more than once stigmatized by public prosecution, and whose rascalities are of European fame! You 'd say that with all these detracting influences he was a man of consummate social tact, refined manners, and at least possessing the outward signs of good breeding. Wrong again, Bob. He is coarse, uneducated, and vulgar; he never picked up any semblance of the class from whom he peculated; and has lived on, as he began, a "low comedy villain," and no more. Well, what think you, when I tell you that is "the house," par excellence, where all strangers strive to be introduced,—that to be on the dinner-list here is a distinction, and that even a visitor enjoys an envied fortune,—and that at the very moment I write, the Dodd family are in earnest and active negotiation to attain to this inestimable privilege? Now, Bob, there's no denying that there must be something rotten, and to the core too, where such a condition of things prevails. If this man fed the hungry and sheltered the houseless, who had no alternative but his table or no food, the thing requires no explanation; or if his hospitalities were partaken of by that large floating class who in every city are to be found, with tastes disproportionate to their fortunes, and who will at any time postpone their principles to their palates, even then the matter is not of difficult solution; but what think you that his company includes some of the very highest names of our stately nobility, and that the titles that resound through his salon are amongst the most honored of our haughty aristocracy! These people assuredly stand in no want of a dinner. They are comfortably lodged, and at least reasonably well fed at the "Italie" or the "Grande Bretagne." Why should they stoop to such companionship? Who can explain this, Bob? Assuredly, I am not the Ædipus!
I am nothing surprised that people like ourselves, for instance, seek to enjoy even this passing splendor, and find themselves at a princely board, served with a more than royal costliness. One of these grand dinners is like a page of the Arabian Nights to a man of ordinary condition; but surely his Grace the Duke, or the most Noble the Marquis has no such illusions. With him it is only a question whether the Madeira over-flavored the soup, or that the ortolans might possibly have been fatter. He dines pretty much in the same fashion every day during the London season, and a great part of the rest of the year afterwards. Why then should he descend to any compromise to accept Count "Dragonards's" hospitality? for I must tell you that "Dives" is a Count, and has orders from the Pope and the Queen of Spain.
With the explanation, as I have said, I have nothing to do. It is beyond and above me. For the fact alone I am guarantee; and here comes Tiverton in a transport of triumph to say that "Heaven is won," or, in humbler phrase, "Monsieur le Comte de Dragonards prie Phonneur," &c, and that Dodd père and Dodd mère are requested to dine with him on Tuesday, the younger Dodds to assist at a reception in the evening.
Tiverton assures me that by accepting with a good grace the humbler part of a "refresher," I am certain of promotion afterwards to a higher range of character; and in this hope I live for the present.
It is likely I shall not despatch this without being able to tell you more of this great man's house; meanwhile—"majora cantamus"—I am in love, Bob! If I did n't dash into the confession at once, as one springs into the sea of a chilly morning, I'd even put on the clothes of secrecy, and walk off unconfessed. She is lovely, beyond anything I can give you an idea of,—pale as marble; but such a flesh tint! a sunset sleeping upon snow, and with lids fringed over a third of her cheek. You know the tender, languid, longing look that vanquishes me,—that's exactly what she has! A glance of timid surprise, like an affrighted fawn, and then a downcast consciousness,—a kind of self-reproaching sense of her own loveliness,—a sort of a—what the devil kind of enchantment and witchery, Bob? that makes a man feel it's all no use struggling and fighting,—that his doom is there! that the influence which is to rule his destiny is before him, and that, turn him which way he will, his heart has but one road—and will take it!
She was in Box 19, over the orchestra! I caught a glimpse of her shoulder—only her shoulder—at first, as she sat with her face to the stage, and a huge screen shaded her from the garish light of the lustre. How I watched the graceful bend of her neck each time she saluted—I suppose it was a salutation—some new visitor who entered! The drooping leaves and flowers of her hair trembled with a gentle motion, as if to the music of her soft voice. I thought I could hear the very accents echoing within my heart! But oh! my ecstasy when her hand stole forth and hung listlessly over the cushion of the box! True it was gloved, yet still you could mark its symmetry, and, in fancy, picture the rosy-tipped fingers in all their graceful beauty.
Night after night I saw her thus; yet never more than I have told you. I made superhuman efforts to obtain the box directly in front; but it belonged to a Russian princess, and was therefore inaccessible. I bribed the bassoon and seduced the oboe in the orchestra; but nothing was to be seen from their inferno of discordant tunings. I made love to a ballet-dancer, to secure the entrée behind the scenes; and on the night of my success she—my adored one—had changed her place with a friend, and sat with her back to the stage. The adverse fates had taken a spite against me, Bob, and I saw that my passion must prove unhappy!
Somehow it is in love as in hunting, you are never really in earnest so long as the country is open and the fences easy; but once that the ditches are "yawners," and the walls "raspers," you sit down to your work with a resolute heart and a steady eye, determined, at any cost and at any peril, to be in at the death. Would that the penalties were alike also! How gladly would I barter a fractured rib or a smashed collar-bone for the wrecked and cast-away spirit of my lost and broken heart!
If I suffer myself to expand upon my feelings, there will be no end of this, Bob. I already have a kind of consciousness that I could fill three hundred and fifty folio volumes, like "Hansard's," in subtle description and discrimination of sensations that were not exactly "this," but were very like "that;" and of impressions, hopes, fancies, fears, and visions, a thousand times more real than all the actual events of my bona fide existence. And, after all, what balderdash it is to compare the little meaningless incidents of our lives with the soul-stirring passions that rage within us! the thoughts that, so to say, form the very fuel of our natures! These are, indeed, the realities; and what we are in the habit of calling such are the mere mockeries and semblances of fact! I can honestly aver that I suffered—in the true sense of the word—more intense agony from the conflict of my distracted feelings than I ever did when lying under the pangs of a compound fracture; and I may add of a species of pain not to be alleviated by anodynes and soothed by hot flannels.
To be brief, Bob, I felt that, though I had often caught slight attacks of the malady, at length I had contracted it in its deadliest form,—a regular "blue case," as they say, with bad symptoms from the start. Has it ever struck you that a man may go through every stage of a love fever without even so much as speaking to the object of his affections? I can assure you that the thing is true, and I myself suffered nightly every vacillating sense of hope, fear, ecstasy, despair, joy, jealousy, and frantic delight, just by following out the suggestions of my own fancy, and exalting into importance the veriest trifles of the hour.
With what gloomy despondence did I turn homeward of an evening, when she sat back in the box, and perhaps nothing of her but her bouquet was visible for a whole night!—with what transports have I carried away the memory of her profile, seen but for a second! Then the agonies of my jealousy, as I saw her listening, with pleased attention, to some essenced puppy—I could swear it was such—who lounged into her box before the ballet! But at last came the climax of my joy, when I saw her "lorgnette" directed towards me, as I stood in the pit, and actually felt her eyes on me! I can imagine some old astronomer's ecstasy, as, gazing for hours on the sky of night, the star that he has watched and waited for has suddenly shone through the glass of his telescope, and lit up his very heart within him with its radiance. I 'd back myself to have experienced a still more thrilling sense of happiness as the beams of her bright eyes descended on me.
At first, Bob, I thought that the glances might have been meant for another. I turned and looked around me, ready to fasten a deadly quarrel upon him, whom I should have regarded at once as my greatest enemy. But the company amidst which I stood soon reassured me. A few snuffy-looking old counts, with brown wigs and unshaven chins,—a stray Government clerk with a pinchbeck chain and a weak moustache, couldn't be my rivals. I looked again, but she had turned away her bead; and save that the "lorgnette" still rested within her fingers, I'd have thought the whole a vision.
Three nights after this the same thing occurred. I had taken care to resume the very same place each evening, to wear the same dress, to stand in the very same attitude,—a very touching "pose," which I had practised before the glass. I had not been more than two hours at my post, when she turned abruptly round and stared full at me. There could be no mistake, no misconception whatever; for, as if to confirm my wavering doubts, her friend took the glass from her, and looked full and long at me. You may imagine, Bob, somewhat of the preoccupation of my faculties when I tell you that I never so much as recognized her friend. I had thoughts, eyes, ears, and senses for one,—and one only. Judge, then, my astonishment when she saluted me, giving that little gesture with the hand your Florentines are such adepts in,—a species of salutation so full of most expressive meaning.
Short of a crow-quilled billet, neatly endorsed with her name, nothing could have spoken more plainly. It said, in a few words, "Come up here, Jim, we shall be delighted to see you." I accepted the augury, Bob, as we used to say in Virgil, and in less than a minute had forced my passage through the dense crowd of the pit, and was mounting the box stairs, five steps at a spring. "Whose box is No. 19?" said I to an official. "Madame de Goranton," was the reply. Awkward this; never had heard the name before; sounded like French; might be Swiss; possibly Belgian.
No time for debating the point, tapped and entered,—several persons within barring up the passage to the front,—suddenly heard a well-known voice, which accosted me most cordially, and, to my intense surprise, saw before me Mrs. Gore Hampton! You know already all about her, Bob, and I need not recapitulate.
"I fancied you were going to pass your life in distant adoration yonder, Mr. Dodd," said she, laughingly, while she tendered her hand for me to kiss. "Adeline, dearest, let me present to you my friend Mr. Dodd." A very cold—an icy recognition was the reply to this speech; and Adeline opened her fan, and said something behind it to an elderly dandy beside her, who laughed, and said, "Parfaitement, ma foi!"
Registering a secret vow to be the death of the antiquated tiger aforesaid, I entered into conversation with Mrs. G. H., who, notwithstanding some unpleasant passages between our families, expressed unqualified delight at the thought of meeting us all once more; inquired after my mother most affectionately; and asked if the girls were looking well, and whether they rode and danced as beautifully as ever. She made, between times, little efforts to draw her friend into conversation by some allusion to Mary Anne's grace or Cary's accomplishments; but all in vain. Adeline only met the advances with a cold stare, or a little half-smile of most sneering expression. It was not that she was distant and reserved towards me. No, Bob; her manner was downright contemptuous; it was insulting; and yet such was the fascination her beauty had acquired over me that I could have knelt at her feet in adoration of her. I have no doubt that she saw this. I soon perceived that Mrs. Gore Hampton did. There is a wicked consciousness in a woman's look as she sees a man "hooked," there's no mistaking. Her eyes expressed this sentiment now; and, indeed, she did not try to hide it.
She invited me to come home and sup with them. She half tried to make Adeline say a word or two in support of the invitation; but no, she would not even hear it; and when I accepted, she half peevishly declared she had got a bad headache, and would go to bed after the play. I tell you these trivial circumstances, Bob, just that you may fancy how irretrievably lost I was when such palpable signs of dislike could not discourage me. I felt this all—and acutely too; but somehow with no sense of defeat, but a stubborn, resolute determination to conquer them.
I went back to sup with Mrs. G. H., and Adeline kept her word and retired. There were a few men—foreigners of distinction—but I sat beside the hostess, and heard nothing but praises of that "dear angel." These eulogies were mixed up with a certain tender pity that puzzled me sadly, since they always left the impression that either the angel had done something herself, or some one else had done it towards her, that called for all the most compassionate sentiments of the human heart. As to any chance of her history—who she was, whence she came, and so on—it was quite out of the question; you might as well hope for the private life of some aerial spirit that descends in the midst of canvas clouds in a ballet. She was there—to be worshipped, wondered at, and admired, but not to be catechised.
I left Mrs. H.'s house at three in the morning,—a sadder but scarcely a wiser man. She charged me most solemnly not to mention to any one where I had been,—a precaution possibly suggested by the fact that I had lost sixty Napoleons at lansquenet,—a game at which I left herself and her friends deeply occupied when I came away. I was burning with impatience for Tiverton to come back to Florence. He had gone down to the Maremma to shoot snipe. For, although I was precluded by my promise from divulging about the supper, I bethought me of a clever stratagem by which I could obtain all the counsel and guidance without any breach of faith, and this was, to take him with me some evening to the pit, station him opposite to No. 19, and ask all about its occupants; he knows everybody everywhere, so that I should have the whole history of my unknown charmer on the easiest of all terms.
From that day and that hour, I became a changed creature. The gay follies of my fashionable friends gave me no pleasure. I detested balls. I abhorred theatres. She ceased to frequent the opera. In fact, I gave the most unequivocal proof of my devotion to one by a most sweeping detestation of all the rest of mankind. Amidst my other disasters, I could not remember where Mrs. Gore Hampton lived. We had driven to her house after the theatre; it was a long way off, and seemed to take a very circuitous course to reach, but in what direction I had not the very vaguest notion of. The name of it, too, had escaped me, though she repeated it over several times when I was taking my leave of her. Of course, my omitting to call and pay my respects would subject me to every possible construction of rudeness and incivility, and here was, therefore, another source of irritation and annoyance to me.
My misanthropy grew fiercer. I had passed through the sad stage, and now entered upon the combative period of the disease. I felt an intense longing to have a quarrel with somebody. I frequented cafe's, and walked the streets in a battle, murder, and sudden-death humor,—frowning at this man, scowling at that. But, have you never remarked, the caprice of Fortune is in this as in all other things? Be indifferent at play, and you are sure to win; show yourself regardless of a woman, and you are certain to hear she wants to make your acquaintance. Go out of a morning in a mood of universal love and philanthropy, and I'll take the odds that you have a duel on your hands before evening.
There was one man in Florence whom I especially desired to fix a quarrel upon,—this was Morris, or, as he was now called, Sir Morris Penrhyn. A fellow who unquestionably ought to have had very different claims on my regard, but who now, in this perversion of my feelings, struck me as exactly the man to shoot or be shot by. Don't you know that sensation, Bob, in which a man feels that he must select a particular person, quite apart from any misfortune he is suffering under, and make him pay its penalty? It is a species of antipathy that defies all reason, and, indeed, your attempt to argue yourself out of it only serves to strengthen and confirm its hold on you.
Morris and I had ceased to speak when we met; we merely saluted coldly, and with that rigid observance of a courtesy that makes the very easiest prelude to a row, each party standing ready prepared to say "check" whenever the other should chance to make a wrong move. Perhaps I am not justified in saying so much of him, but I know that I do not exaggerate my own intentions. I fancied—what will a man not fancy in one of these eccentric stages of his existence?—that Morris saw my purpose, and evaded me. I argued myself into the notion that he was deficient in personal courage, and constructed upon this idea a whole edifice of absurdity.
I am ashamed, even before you, to acknowledge the extent to which my stupid infatuation blinded me; perhaps the best penalty to pay for it is an open confession.
I overtook our valet one morning with a letter in my governor's hand addressed to Sir Morris Penrhyn, and on inquiring, discovered that he and my father had been in close correspondence for the three days previous. At once I jumped to the conclusion that I was, somehow or other, the subject of these epistles, and in a fit of angry indignation I drove off to Morris's hotel.
When a man gets himself into a thorough passion on account of some supposed injury, which even to himself he is unable to define, his state is far from enviable. When I reached the hotel, I was in the hot stage of my anger, and could scarcely brook the delay of sending in my card. The answer was, "Sir Morris did not receive." I asked for pen and ink to write a note, and scribbled something most indiscreet and offensive. I am glad to say that I cannot now remember a line of it. The reply came that my "note should be attended to," and with this information I issued forth into the street half wild with rage.
I felt that I had given a deadly provocation, and must now look out for some "friend" to see me through the affair. Tiverton was absent, and amongst all my acquaintances I could not pitch upon one to whose keeping I liked to entrust my honor. I turned into several cafés, I strolled into the club, I drove down to the Cascini, but in vain; and at last was walking homeward, when I caught sight of a friendly face from the window of a travelling-carriage that drove rapidly by, and, hurrying after, just came up as it stopped at the door of the Hôtel d'Italie.
You may guess my astonishment as I felt my hand grasped cordially by no other than our old neighbor at Bruff, Dr. Belton, the physician of our county dispensary. Five minutes explained his presence there. He had gone out to Constantinople as the doctor to our Embassy, and by some piece of good luck and his own deservings to boot, had risen to the post of Private Secretary to the Ambassador, and was selected by him to carry home some very important despatches, to the rightful consideration of which his own presence at the Foreign Office was deemed essential.
Great as was the difference between, his former and his present station, it was insignificant in comparison with the change worked in himself. The country doctor, of diffident manners and retiring habits, grateful for the small civilities of small patrons, cautiously veiling his conscious superiority under an affected ignorance, was now become a consummate man of the world,—calm, easy, and self-possessed. His very appearance had undergone an alteration, and he held himself more erect, and looked not only handsomer but taller. These were the first things that struck me; but as we conversed together, I found him the same hearty, generous fellow I had ever known him, neither elated by his good fortune, nor, what is just as common a fault, contemptuously pretending that it was only one-half of his deserts.
One thing alone puzzled me, it was that he evinced no desire to come and see our family, who had been uniformly kind and good-natured to him; in fact, when I proposed it, he seemed so awkward and embarrassed that I never pressed my invitation, but changed the topic. I knew that there bad been, once on a time, some passages between my sister Mary Anne and him, and therefore supposed that possibly there might have been something or other that rendered a meeting embarrassing. At all events, I accepted his half-apology on the ground of great fatigue, and agreed to dine with him.
What a pleasant dinner it was! He related to me all the story of his life, not an eventful one as regarded incident, but full of those traits which make up interest for an individual. You felt as you listened that it was a thoroughly good fellow was talking to you, and that if he were not to prove successful in life, it was just because his were the very qualities rogues trade on for their own benefit. There was, moreover, a manly sense of independence about him, a consciousness of self-reliance that never approached conceit, but served to nerve his courage and support his spirit, which gave him an almost heroism in my eyes, and I own, too, suggested a most humiliating comparison with my own nature.
I opened my heart freely to him about everything, and in particular about Morris; and although I saw plainly enough that he took very opposite views to mine about the whole matter, he agreed to stop in Florence for a day, and act as my friend in the transaction. This being so far arranged, I started for Carrara, which, being beyond the Tuscan frontier, admits of our meeting without any risk of interruption,—for that it must come to such I am fully determined on. The fact is, Bob, my note is a "stunner," and, as I won't retract, Morris has no alternative but to come out.
I have now given you—at full length too—the whole history, up to the catastrophe,—which perhaps may have to be supplied by another hand. I am here, in this little capital of artists and quarry men, patiently waiting for Bel-ton's arrival, or at least some despatch, which may direct my future movements. It has been a comfort to me to have the task of this recital, since, for the time at least, it takes me out of brooding and gloomy thoughts; and though I feel that I have made out a poor case for myself, I know that I am pleading to a friendly Court and a merciful Chief Justice.
They say that in the few seconds of a drowning agony a man calls up every incident of his life,—from infancy to the last moment,—that a whole panorama of his existence is unrolled before him, and that he sees himself—child, boy, youth, and man—vividly and palpably; that all his faults, his short-comings, and his transgressions stand out in strong colors before him, and his character is revealed to him like an inscription. I am half persuaded this may be true, judging from what I have myself experienced within these few hours of solitude here. Shame, sorrow, and regret are ever present with me. I feel utterly disgraced before the bar of my own conscience. Even of the advantages which foreign travel might have conferred, how few have fallen to my share!—in modern languages I have scarcely made any progress, with respect to works of art I am deplorably ignorant, while in everything that concerns the laws and the modes of government of any foreign State I have to confess myself totally uninformed. To be sure, I have acquired some insight into the rogueries of "Rouge-et-Noir," I can slang a courier, and even curse a waiter; but I have some misgivings whether these be gifts either to promote a man's fortune or form his character. In fact, I begin to feel that engrafting Continental slang upon home "snobbery" is a very unrewarding process, and I sorely fear that I have done very little more than this.
I am in a mood to make a clean breast of it, and perhaps say more than I should altogether like to remember hereafter, so will conclude for the present, and with my most sincere affection write myself, as ever, yours,
Jim Dodd.
P. S. It is not impossible that you may have a few lines from me by to-morrow or next day,—at least, if I have anything worth the telling and am "to the fore" to tell it.