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The Dodd Family Abroad, Vol. I

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Title: The Dodd Family Abroad, Vol. I

Author: Charles Lever

Illustrator: Hablot Knight Browne
        W. Cubitt Cooke


        
Release date: March 1, 2011 [eBook #35441]
                Most recently updated: September 26, 2020

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35441

Credits: Produced by David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DODD FAMILY ABROAD, VOL. I ***




Produced by David Widger





THE DODD FAMILY ABROAD

By Charles James Lever

With Illustrations By Phiz And W. Cubitt Cooke.

In Two Volumes: Vol. I.

Boston: Little, Brown, And Company

1895.




TO SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER LYTTON, Bart., M.P.

My Dear Sir Edward,--While asking you to accept the dedication of this
volume, I feel it would be something very nigh akin to the Bathos
were _I_ to say one word of Eulogy of those powers which the world has
recognised in _you_.

Let me, however, be permitted, in common with thousands, to welcome the
higher development which your Genius is hourly attaining, to say God
speed to the Author of "The Caxtons" and "My Novel," and cry "Hear!" to
the Eloquent Orator whose words have awakened an enthusiasm that shows
Chivalry still lives amongst us.

Believe me, in all admiration and esteem,

Your faithful friend,

CHARLES LEVER.

Casa Capponi, Florence, March, 1854.




PREFACE.

Although the faulty judgment of authors on their own productions has
assumed something like the force of a proverb, I am ready to incur the
hazard of avowing that the present volume is, to my own thinking, better
than anything else I have done. I am not about to defend its numerous
shortcomings and great faults. I will not say one word in extenuation of
a plan which, to many readers, forms an insuperable objection,--that
of a story in letters. I wish simply to record the fact that the book
afforded me much pleasure in the writing, and that I felt an amount of
interest in the character of Kenny Dodd such as I have never before nor
since experienced for any personage of my own creation.

The reader who is at all acquainted with the incidents of foreign
travel, and the strange individuals to be met with on every European
highway, will readily acquit me of exaggeration either in describing the
mistaken impressions conceived of Continental life, or the difficulties
of forming anything like a correct estimate of national habits by those
whose own sphere of observation was so limited in their own country.
In Kenny Dodd, I attempted to portray a man naturally acute and
intelligent, sensible and well judging where his prejudices did not
pervert his reason, and singularly quick to appreciate the ridicule
of any absurd situation in which he did not figure himself. To all the
pretentious ambitions of his family,--to their exaggerated sense of
themselves and their station,--to their inordinate desire to figure in a
rank above their own, and appear to be something they had never hitherto
attempted,--I have made him keenly and sensitively alive. He sees Mrs.
Dodd's perils,--there is not a sunk rock nor a shoal before her that he
has not noted, and yet for the life of him he can't help booking himself
for the voyage. There is an Irishman's love of drollery,--that passion
for what gives him a hearty laugh, even though he come in for his share
of the ridicule, which repays him for every misadventure. If he is
momentarily elated by the high and distinguished company in which he
finds himself, so far from being shocked when he discovers them to be
swindlers and blacklegs, he chuckles over the blunders of Mrs. D. and
Mary Anne, and writes off to his friend Purcell a letter over which he
laughs till his eyes run.

Of those broad matters to which a man of good common-sense can apply
his faculties fairly, his opinions are usually just and true; he likes
truth, he wants to see things as they are. Of everything conventional he
is almost invariably in error; and it is this struggle that in a manner
reflects the light and shade of his nature, showing him at one moment
clear-headed and observant, and at the next absurdly mistaken and
ignorant.

It was in no spirit of sarcasm on my countrymen that I took an Irishman
to represent these incongruities; nay, more, I will say that in the very
liability to be so strongly impressed from without, lies much of that
unselfishness which forms that staple of the national character which so
greatly recommends them to strangers.

If I do not speak of the other characters of the book, it is because I
feel that whatever humble merit the volume may possess is ascribable to
the truthfulness of this principal personage. It is less the Dodd family
for which I would bespeak the reader's interest, than for the trials of
Kenny Dodd himself, his thoughts and opinions.

Finally, let me observe that this story has had the fortune to be better
liked by my friends, and less valued by the public, than any other of my
books.

I wrote it, as I have said, with pleasure; well satisfied should I be
that any of my readers might peruse it with as much. It was planned and
executed in a quiet little cottage in the Gulf of Spezia, something more
than six years ago. I am again in the same happy spot; and, as I turn
over the pages, not altogether lost to some of the enjoyment they once
afforded me in the writing, and even more than before anxious that I
should not be alone in that sentiment.

It is in vain, however, for an author to bespeak favor for that which
comes not recommended by merits of its own; and if Kenny Dodd finds no
acceptance with you on his own account, it is hopeless to expect that he
will be served by the introduction of so partial a friend as

Your devoted servant,

CHARLES LEVER.

Marola, Gulf of Spezia,

October 1,1859.




A WORD FROM THE EDITOR.

The Editor of the Dodd Correspondence may possibly be expected to give
the Public some information as to the manner by which these Letters
came into his possession, and the reasons which led him to publish them.
Happily he can do both without any breach of honorable confidence. The
circumstances were these:--

Mr. Dodd, on his returning to Ireland, passed through the little
watering-place of Spezzia, where the Editor was then sojourning. They
met accidentally, formed acquaintanceship, and then intimacy. Amongst
the many topics of conversation between them, the Continent and its
habits occupied a very wide space. Mr. D. had lived little abroad; the
Editor had passed half of a life there. Their views and judgment were,
as might be surmised, not always alike; and if novelty had occasionally
misled one, time and habit had not less powerfully blunted the
perceptions of the other. The old resident discovered, to his
astonishment, that the very opinions which he smiled at from his
friend, had been once his own; that he had himself incurred some of the
mistakes, and fallen into many of the blunders, which he now ridiculed,
and that, so far from the Dodd Family being the exception, they were
in reality no very unfair samples of a large class of our travelling
countrymen. They had come abroad with crude and absurd notions of what
awaited them on the Continent. They dreamed of economy, refinement,
universal politeness, and a profound esteem for England from all
foreigners. They fancied that the advantages of foreign travel were
to be obtained without cost or labor; that locomotion could educate,
sight-seeing cultivate them; that in the capacity of British subjects
every society should be open to them, and that, in fact, it was enough
to emerge from home obscurity to become at once recognized in the
fashionable circles of any Continental city.

They not only entertained all these notions, but they held them in
defiance of most contradictory elements. They practised the most rigid
economy when professing immense wealth; they affected to despise the
foreigner while shunning their own countrymen; they assumed to be
votaries of art when merely running over galleries; and lastly, while
laying claim, and just claim, for their own country to the highest moral
standard of Europe, they not unfrequently outraged all the proprieties
of foreign life by an open and shameless profligacy. It is difficult to
understand how a mere change of locality can affect a man's notions of
right and wrong, and how Cis-Alpine evil may be Trans-Alpine good. It
is very hard to believe that a few parallels of latitude can affect the
moral thermometer; but so it is, and so Mr. Dodd honestly confessed he
found it. He not only avowed that he could do abroad what he could
not dare to do at home, but that, worse still, the infraction cost
no sacrifice of self-esteem, no self-reproach. It was not that these
derelictions were part of the habits of foreign life, or at least of
such of it as met the eye; it was, in reality, because he had come
abroad with his own preconceived ideas of a certain latitude in morals,
and was resolved to have the benefit of it. Such inconsistency in
theory led, naturally, to absurdity in action, and John Bull became, in
consequence, a mark for every trait of eccentricity that satirists could
describe, or caricaturists paint.

The gradations of rank so rigidly defined in England are less accurately
marked out abroad. Society, like the face of the soil, is not enclosed
by boundaries and fenced by hedgerows, but stretches away in boundless
undulations of unlimited extent. The Englishman fancies there are no
boundaries, because he does not see the landmarks. Since all seems open,
he imagines there can be no trespass. This is a serious mistake! Not
less a one is, to connect title with rank. He fancies that nobility
represents abroad the same pretensions which it maintains in England,
and indignantly revenges his own blunder by calumniating in common every
foreigner of rank.

Mr. Dodd fell into some of these errors; from others he escaped. Most,
indeed, of his mistakes were those inseparable from a false position;
and from the acuteness of his remarks in conversation, it is clear that
he possessed fair powers of observation, and a mind well disposed to
receive and retain the truth. One quality certainly his observations
possessed,--they were "his own." They were neither worked out from the
Guide-book, nor borrowed from his _Laquais de Place_. They were the
honest convictions of a good ordinary capacity, sharpened by the habits
of an active life. It was with sincere pleasure the Editor received from
him the following note, which reached him about three weeks after they
parted:--


"DODSBOROUGH, BRUFF.

"My dear Harry Lorrequer,--I have fished up all the Correspondence of
the Dodd Family during our _Annus Mirabilis_ abroad, and send it to you
with this. You have done some queer pranks at Editorship before now, so
what would you say to standing Sponsor to us all, foundlings as we are
in the world of letters? I have a notion in my head that we were n't a
bit more ridiculous than nine-tenths of our travelling countrymen, and
that, maybe, our mistakes and misconceptions might serve to warn such
as may come after us over the same road. At all events, use your own
discretion on the matter, but say nothing about it when you write to me,
as Mrs. D. reads all my letters, and if she knew we were going to print
her, the consequences would be awful!

"You 'll be glad to hear that we got safe back here,--Tuesday was a
week,--found everything much as usual,--farming stock looking up, pigs
better than ever I knew them. I have managed to get James into the
Police, and his foreign airs and graces are bringing him into the
tip-top society of the country. Purcell tells me that we 'll be driven
to sell Dodsborough in the Estates Court, and I suppose it 's the best
thing after all, for we can buy it in, and clear off the mortgages that
was the ruin of us.

"When everything is settled, I have an idea of taking a run through the
United States, to have a peep at Jonathan. If so, you shall hear from
me.

"Meanwhile, I am yours, very faithfully,

"Kenny I. Dodd.

"Do you know any Yankees, or could you get me a few letters to some of
their noticeable men? for I 'd like to have an opportunity of talk with
them."

The Editor at once set about the inspection of the documents forwarded
to him, and carefully perused the entire correspondence; nor was it
until after a mature consideration that he determined on accepting the
responsible post which Mr. Dodd had assigned to him.

He who edits a Correspondence, to a certain extent is assumed to be a
concurring party, if not to the statements contained in it, at least to
its general tone and direction. It is in vain for him to try and hide
his own shadow behind the foreground figure of the picture, or merge
his responsibility in that of his principal. The reader will hold him
chargeable for opinions that he has made public, and for sentiments
which, but for his intervention, had slept within the drawer of a
cabinet. This is more particularly the case where the sentiments
recorded are not those of any great thinker or high authority amongst
men whose _dicta_ may be supposed capable of standing the test of
a controversy, on the mere strength of him who uttered them. Now,
unhappily, the Dodd Family have not as yet produced one of these gifted
individuals. Their views of the world, as they saw it in a foreign tour,
are those of persons of very moderate capacity, with very few special
opportunities for observation. They wrote in all the frankness of close
friendship to those with whom they were most intimately allied. They
uttered candidly what they felt acutely. They chronicled their
sorrows, their successes, their triumphs, and their shame. And although
experience did teach them something as they went, their errors tracked
them to the last. It cannot be expected, then, that the Editor is
prepared to back their opinions and uphold their notions, nor is he
blamable for the judgments they have pronounced on many points. It is
true, it was open to him to have retrenched this and suppressed that. He
might have cancelled a confession here, or blotted out an avowal there;
but had he done so in one Letter, the allusion contained in some other
might have been pointless,--the distinctive character of the writer
lost; and what is of more moment than either, a new difficulty
engendered, viz., what to retain where there was so much to retrench.
Besides this, Mrs. D. is occasionally wrong where K. I. is right, and it
is only by contrasting the impressions that the value of the judgments
can be appreciated.

It is not in our present age of high civilization that an Editor need
fear the charge of having divulged family secrets, or made the private
history of domestic life a subject for public commentary. Happily, we
live in a period of enlightenment that can defy such petty slanders.
Very high and titled individuals have shown themselves superior to
similar accusations, and if the "Dodds" can in any wise contribute
to the amusement or instruction of the world, they may well feel
recompensed for an exposure to which others have been subjected before
them.

As in all cases of this kind, the Editor's share has been of the very
lightest. It would not have become him to have added anything either
of explanation or apology to the contents of these Letters. Even when a
word or two might have served to correct a mistaken impression, he
has preferred to leave the obvious task to the reader's judgment to
obtrusively making himself the means of interpretation. In fact, he has
had little to do beyond opening the door and announcing the company, and
his functions cease when this duty is accomplished. It would be alike
ungracious and ungrateful in him, however, were he to retire without
again thanking those kind and indulgent friends who have so long and so
warmly welcomed him.

With no higher ambition in life than to be the servant of that same
Public, nor any more ardent desire than to merit well at their hands, he
writes himself, as he has so often had occasion to do before, but at no
time more sincerely than now,

Their very devoted and faithful servant,

THE EDITOR.




THE DODD FAMILY ABROAD




LETTER I. TO MR. THOMAS PURCELL, OF THE GRANGE, BRUFF

Hôtel Des Bains, Ostend.

Dear Tom,--Here we are at last,--as tired and seasick a party as
ever landed on the same shore! Twenty-eight hours of it, from the St.
Katharine Docks, six of them bobbing opposite Margate in a fog,--ringing
a big bell all the time, and firing minute-guns, lest some thumping
India-man or a homeward-bound Peninsular should run into us,--and five
more sailing up and down before Ostend, till it was safe to cross the
bar, and enter the blackguard little harbor. The "Phoenix"--that was our
boat--started the night before the "Paul Jones" mail-packet, and we
only beat her by a neck, after all! And this was a piece of Mrs. Dodd's
economy: the "Phoenix" only charges "ten-and-six" for the first cabin;
but, what with the board for a day and night, boats to fetch you out,
and boats to fetch you in, brandy-and-water against the sickness,--much
good it was!--soda-water, stewards, and the devil knows what of broken
crockery,--James fell into the "cuddy," I think they call it,
and smashed two dozen and three wine-glasses, the most of a blue
tea-service, and a big tureen,--the economy turned out a "delusion and a
snare," as they say in the House. It 's over now, thank God! and, except
some bruises against the bulkheads and a touch of a jaundice, I 'm
nothing the worse. We landed at night, and were marched off in a gang to
the Custom House. Such a time I never spent before! for when they upset
all our things on the floor, there was no getting them into the trunks
again; and so we made our way through the streets, with shawls and muffs
and silk dresses all round us, like a set of play-actors. As for me, I
carried a turban in one hand, and a tray of artificial flowers in the
other, with a toque on my head and a bird-of-paradise feather in my
mouth. James fell, crossing the plank, with three bran-new frocks and a
bonnet of the girls', and a thing Mrs. D. calls a "visite,"--egad,
they made a visite of it, sure enough, and are likely to stay some time
there, for they are under some five feet of black mud, that has lain
there since before the memory of man. This was n't the worst of it;
for Mrs. D., not seeing very well in the dark, gave one of the passport
people a box on the ear that she meant for poor Paddy, and we were
hauled up before the police, and made pay thirty francs for "insulting
the authorities," with something written on our passport, besides,
describing my wife as a dangerous kind of woman, that ought to be looked
after. Poor Mathews had a funny song, that ran,--

     "If ever you travel, it must n't seem queer
     That you sometimes get rubs that you never get here."

But, faith, it appears to me that we have fallen in with a most uncommon
allowance of friction. Perhaps it's all for the best; and by a little
roughing at first, we'll the sooner accustom ourselves to our new
position.

You know that I never thought much of this notion of coming abroad,
but Mrs. D. was full of it, and gave me neither peace nor ease till I
consented. To be sure, if it only realizes the half of what she says,
it's a good speculation,--great economy, tip-top education for Tom and
the girls, elegant society without expense, fine climate, and wine for
the price of the bottles. I 'm sorry to leave Dodsborough.

I got into a way of living there that suited me; and even in the few
days I spent in London I was missing my morning's walk round the big
turnip-field, and my little gossip with Joe Moone. Poor Joe! don't let
him want while I 'm away, and be sure to give him his turf off our own
bog. We won't be able to drain the Lough meadows this year, for we 'll
want every sixpence we can lay our hands on for the start. Mrs. D. says,
"'T is the way you begin abroad decides everything;" and, faith, our
opening, up to this, has not been too prosperous.

I thought we 'd have got plenty of letters of recommendation for the
Continent while we were in London; but it is downright impossible to
see people there. Vickars, our member, was never at home, and Lord
Pummistone--I might besiege Downing Street from morning till night, and
never get a sight of him! I wrote as many as twenty letters, and it was
only when I bethought me of saying that the Whigs never did anything
except for people of the Grey, Elliott, or Dundas family, that he sent
me five lines, with a kind of introduction to any of the envoys or
plenipotentiaries I might meet abroad,--a roving commission after a
dinner,--sorrow more or less! I believe, however, that this is of no
consequence; at least, a most agreeable man, one Krauth, the sub-consul
at Moelendrach, somewhere in Holland, and who came over in the same
packet with us, tells me that people of condition, like us, find
their place in the genteel society abroad as naturally as a man with
moustaches goes to Leicester Square. That seems a comfort; for, between
me and you, the fighting and scrambling that goes on at home about
_who_ we 'll have, and who 'll have us, makes life little better than
an election shindy! K. is a mighty nice man, and full of information. He
appears to be rich, too, for Tom saw as many as thirteen gold watches
in his room; and he has chains and pins and brooches without end. He was
trying to persuade us to spend the winter at Moelendrach, where, besides
a heavenly climate, there are such beautiful walks on the dikes, and
elegant society! Mrs. D. does n't like it, however, for, though we 've
been looking all the morning, we can't find the place on the map;
but that does n't signify much, since even our post town of
Kellynnaignabacklish is put down in the "Gazetteer" "a small village on
the road to Bruff," and no mention whatever of the police-station, nor
Hannagin's school, nor the Pound. That's the way the blackguards make
books nowadays!

Mary Anne is all for Brussels, and, afterwards, Germany and the
Rhine; but we can fix upon nothing yet. Send me the letter of credit on
Brussels, in any case, for we 'll stay there, to look about us, a
few weeks. If the two townlands cannot be kept out of the "Encumbered
Estates," there 's no help for it; but sure any of our friends would
bid a trifle, and not see them knocked down at seven or eight years'
purchase. If Tullylicknaslatterley was drained, and the stones off it,
and a good top dressing of lime for two years, you 'd see as fine a crop
of oats there as ever you 'd wish; and there hasn't been an "outrage,"
as they call it, on the same land since they shot M'Shea, last
September; and when you consider the times, and the way winter set in
early, this year, 't is saying a good deal. I wish Prince Albert would
take some of these farms, as they said he would. Never mind enclosing
the town parks, we can't afford it just now; but mind that you look
after the preserves. If there 's a cock shot in the boundary-wood, I 'll
turn out every mother's son of the barony.

I was going to tell you about Nick Mahon's holding, but it's gone clean
out of my head, for I was called away to the police-office to bail out
Paddy Byrne, the dirty little spalpeen; I wish I never took him from
home. He saw a man running off with a yellow valise,--this is his
story,--and thinking it was mine, he gave him chase; he doubled and
turned,--now under an omnibus, now through a dark passage,--till Paddy
overtook him at last, and gave him a clippeen on the left ear, and
a neat touch of the foot that sent him sprawling. This done, Paddy
shouldered the spoil, and made for the inn; but what d' ye think? It
turned out to be another man's trunk, and Paddy was taken up for the
robbery; and what with the swearing of the police, Pat's yells, and
Mrs. D.'s French, I have passed such a half-hour as I hope never to
see again. Two "Naps." settled it all, however, and five francs to the
Brigadier, as well-dressed a chap as the Commander of the Forces at
home; but foreigners, it seems, are the devil for bribery. When I told
Pat I 'd stop it out of his wages, he was for rushing out, and taking
what he called the worth of his money out of the blackguard; so that I
had to lock him into my room, and there he is now, crying and screeching
like mad. This will be my excuse for anything I may make in way of
mistakes; for, to say truth, my head is fairly moidered! As it is,
we 've lost a trunk; and when Mrs. D. discovers that it was the one
containing all her new silk dresses, and a famous red velvet that was to
take the shine out of the Tuileries, we'll have the devil to pay! She's
in a blessed humor, besides, for she says she saw the Brigadier wink
at Mary Anne, and that it was a good kicking he deserved, instead of
a five-franc piece; and now she's turning on me in the vernacular,
in which, I regret to say, her fluency has no impediment. I must now
conclude, my dear Tom, for it 's quite beyond me to remember more than
that I am, as ever,

Your sincere friend,

Kenny I. Dodd.

Betty Cobb insists upon being sent home; this is more of it! The journey
will cost a ten-pound note, if Mrs. D. can't succeed in turning her off
of it. I 'm afraid the economy, at least, begins badly.




LETTER II. MRS. DODD TO MISTRESS MARY GALLAGHER, AT DODSBOROUGH

Hotel of the Baths, Ostend. Dear Molly,--This is the first blessed
moment of quiet I've had since I quitted home; and even now there's the
_table d'hôte_ of sixty-two in the next room, and a brass band in the
lobby, with, to be sure, the noisiest set of wretches as waiters ever
I heard, shouting, screaming, knife-jingling, plate-crashing, and
cork-drawing, till my head is fairly turned with the turmoil. The
expense is cruel, besides,--eighteen francs a day for the rooms,
although James sleeps in the _salon_; and if you saw the bed,--his
father swears it was a mignonette-box in one of the windows! The eating
is beautiful; that must be allowed. Two soups, three fishes, five roast
chickens, and a piece of veal, stewed with cherries; a dish of chops
with chiccory, and a meat-pie garnished with cock's-combs,--you maybe
sure I didn't touch them; after them there was a carp, with treacle, and
a big plate of larks and robins, with eggs of the same, all round. Then
came the heavy eating: a roast joint of beef, with a batter-pudding, and
a turkey stuffed with chestnuts, ducks ditto, with olives and onions,
and a mushroom tart, made of grated chickens and other condiments. As
for the sweets, I don't remember the half of them, nor do I like to try,
for poor dear James got a kind of surfeit, and was obliged to go to bed
and have a doctor,--a complaint, they tell me, mighty common among the
English on first coming abroad. He was a nice man, and only charged five
francs. I wish you 'd tell Peter Belton that; for though we subscribe a
pound a year to the dispensary, Mr. Peter thinks to get six shillings
a visit every time he comes over to Dodsborough,--a pleasant ride of
eleven miles,--and sure of something to eat, besides; and now that
I think of it, Molly, 'tis what's called the learned professions in
Ireland is eating us all up,--the attorneys, the doctors, the parsons.
Look at them abroad: Mr. Krauth, a remarkably nice man, and a consul,
told me, last night, that for two-and-sixpence of our money you 'd have
the best advice, law or medical, the Continent affords; and even that
same is a comfort!

The _table d' hôte_ is not without some drawbacks, however, my dear
Molly, for only yesterday I caught an officer, the Brigadier of the
Gendarmerie they call him, throwing sly glances at Mary Anne across the
table. I mentioned it to K. I., but like all fathers that were a little
free-and-easy when young, he said, "Pooh! nonsense, dear. 'Tis the way
of foreigners; you'll get used to it at last." We dined to-day in our
own room; and just to punish us, as I suppose, they gave us a scrag of
mutton and two blue-legged chickens; and by the bill before me,--for I
have it made up every day,--I see "_dîner particulier_" put down five
francs a head, and the _table d'hôte_ is for two!

K. I. was in a blessed passion, and cursed my infernal prudery, as he
called it. To be sure, I did n't know it was to cost us a matter of
fifteen francs. And now he 's gone off to the _café_, and Mary Anne is
crying in her own room, while Caroline is nursing James; for, to tell
you the truth, Betty Cobb is no earthly use to us; and as for Paddy
Byrne, 't is bailing him out of the police-office and paying fines for
him we are, all day.

We 'll scarcely save much this first quarter, for what with travelling
expenses and the loss of my trunk,--I believe I told you that some
villain carried away the yellow valise, with the black satin trimmed
with blonde, and the peach-colored "gros de Naples," and my two elegant
ball-dresses, one covered with real Limerick lace,--these losses, and
the little contingencies of the road, will run away with most of our
economies; but if we live we learn, and we 'll do better afterwards.

I never expected it would be all pure gain, Molly; but is n't it worth
something to see life,--to get one's children the polish and refinement
of the Continent, to teach them foreign tongues with the real accent,
to mix in the very highest circles, and learn all the ways of people of
fashion? Besides, Dodsborough was dreadful; K. I. was settling down to
a common farmer, and in a year or two more would never have asked any
higher company than Purcell and Father Maher; as for James, he was
always out with the greyhounds, or shooting, or something of the kind;
and lastly, you saw yourself what was going on between Peter Belton and
Mary Anne!... She might have had the pride and decency to look higher
than a Dispensary doctor. I told her that her mother's family was
McCarthys, and, indeed, it was nothing but the bad times ever made me
think of Kenny Dodd. Not that I don't think well of poor Peter, but
sure it's hard to dress well, and keep three horses, and make a decent
appearance on less than eighty pounds a year,--not to talk of a wife at
all!

I hope you 'll get Christy into the Police; they are just the same as
the Hussars, and not so costly. Be sure that you send off the two trunks
to Ostend with the first sailing-vessel from Limerick; they'll only cost
one-and-fourpence a cubic foot, whatever that is, and I believe they 'll
come just as speedy as by steam. I 'm sorry for poor Nancy Doran; she
'll be a loss to us in the dairy; but maybe she 'll recover yet. How
can you explain Brindled Judy not being in calf? I can scarce believe
it yet. If it be true, however, you must sell her at the spring fair.
Father Maher had a conceit out of her. Try if he is disposed to give ten
pounds, or guineas,--guineas if you can, Molly.

There's no curing that rash in Caroline's face, and it's making her
miserable. I 've lost Peter's receipt; and it was the only thing stopped
the itching. Try and get a copy of it from him; but say it's for Betty
Cobb.

I was interrupted, my dear Molly, by a visit from a young gentleman
whose visiting-card bears the name of Victor de Lancy, come to ask after
James,--a very nice piece of attention, considering that he only met
us once at the _table d'hôte_. He and Mary Anne talked a great deal
together; for, as he does n't speak English, I could only smile and
say "We-we" occasionally. He's as anxious about James as if he was his
brother, and wanted to sit up the night with him; though what use would
it be? for poor J. does n't know a word of French yet. Mary Anne tells
me that he 's a count, and that his family was very high under the
late King; but it's dreadful to hear him talk of Louis Philippe and
the Orleans branch. He mentioned, too, that they set spies after him
wherever he goes; and, indeed, Mary Anne saw a gendarme looking up at
the window all the time he was with us.

He spent two hours and a half here; and I must say, Molly, foreigners
have a wonderful way of ingratiating themselves with one: we felt,
when he was gone away, as if we knew him all our life. Don't pay any
attention to Mat, but sell the fruit, and send me the money; and as for
Bandy Bob, what's the use of feeding him now we 're away? Take care that
the advertisement about Dodsborough is in the "Mail" and the "Packet"
every week: "A Residence fit for a nobleman or gentleman's family,--most
extensive out-offices, and two hundred acres of land, more if required,"
ought to let easy! To be sure, it's in Ireland, Molly; that's the worst
of it There is n't a little bit of a lodging here on the sands, with
rush-bottom chairs and a painted table, doesn't bring fifty francs a
week!

I must conclude now, for it's nigh post-hour. Be sure you look after
the trunks and the pony. Never mind sending the Limerick paper; it costs
three sous, and has never anything new. K. I. sees the "Times" at the
rooms, and they give all the outrages just as well as the Irish papers.
By the way, who was the Judkin Delaney that was killed at Bruff? Sure it
is n't the little creature that collected the county-cess: it would be a
disgrace if it was; he was n't five foot high!

Tell Father Maher to send me a few threatening lines for Betty Cobb;
'tis nothing but the priest's word will keep her down.

Your most affectionate friend,

Jemima Dodd




LETTER III. MISS DODD TO MISS DOOLAN, OF BALLYDOOLAN

HÔTEL DE BELLEVUE, BRUSSELS.

Dearest Kitty,--If anything could divert the mind from sorrow,--from the
"grief that sears and scalds,"--it would be the delightful existence of
this charming city, where associations of the past and present pleasure
divide attention between them. We are stopping at the Bellevue, the
great hotel of the upper town; but my delight, my ecstasy, is the old
city,--the Grande Place, especially, with its curious architecture,
of mediaeval taste, its high polished roofs, and carved architraves. I
stood yesterday at the window where Count Egmont marched forth to the
scaffold; I touched the chair where poor Horn sat for the last
time, whilst his fainting wife fell powerless at his knees, and I
thought,--yes, dearest Kitty, I own it,--I thought of that last dreadful
parting in the summer-house with poor Peter.--My tears are blotting out
the words as I write them. Why,--why, I ask, must we be wretched? Why
are we not free to face the humble destiny which more sordid spirits
would shrink from? What is there in narrow fortune, if the heart soars
above it? Papa is, however, more inexorable than ever; and as for mamma,
she looks at me as though I were the disgrace of our name and lineage.
Cary never did--never could understand me, poor child!--may she never
know what it is to suffer as I do! But why do I distress you with my
sorrows?--"let me tune my harp to lighter lays," as that sweet poet,
Haynes Bailey, says. We were yesterday at the great ball of Count
Haegenstroem, the Danish Ambassador here. Papa received a large packet
of letters of introduction on Monday last, from the Foreign Office. It
would seem that Lord P. thought pa was a member, for he addressed him as
M.P.; but the mistake has been so far fortunate, that we are invited on
Tuesday to dine at Lord Gledworth's, our ambassador here, and we
have his box for to-night at the Opera,--not to speak of last night's
invitation, which came from him. I wore my amber gauze over the satin
slip, with the "jonquilles" and white roses, two camellias in my hair,
with mamma's coral chain twined through the roll at the back. Count
Ambrose de Roncy called me a "rose-cameo," and I believe I _did_ look my
best. I danced with "Prince Sierra d'Aguila Nero," a Sicilian that ought
to be King of Sicily, and will, they say, if the King of Naples dies
without leaving seven sons. What a splendid man, Kitty! not tall, rather
the reverse; but such eyes, and such a beard, and so perfumed,--the very
air around him was like the garden of Attarghul! He spoke very little
English, and could not bear to talk French; he said the French betrayed
"_la sua carissima patria;_" and so, my dear Kitty, I did my best in the
syllables of the sweet South. _He_, at least, called my accent "divina,"
and said that he would come and read Petrarch with me tomorrow.
Don't let Peter be a fool when he hears this. The Prince is in a very
different sphere from poor Mary Anne! he always dances with Queen
Victoria when he's at Windsor, and called our Prince Consort "_Il suo
diletto Alberto_;" and, more than all, he's married, but separated from
the Princess. He told me this himself, and with what terrible emotion,
Kitty! I thought of Charles Kean in Claude Melnotte, as he spoke in a
low guttural voice, with his hand on his bosom. It was very dreadful,
but these temperaments, moulded alike by southern climes and ancient
descent, are awful in their passionate vehemence. I assure you, it was a
relief to me when he stopped one of the trays and took a pineapple ice.
I felt that it was a moment of peril passed in safety. You can form no
notion, dearest, of the fascination of foreign manners; something there
is so gently insinuating, so captivating, so bewitching, and withal
so natural, Kitty,--that's the very strangest thing of all. There is
absolutely nothing a foreigner cannot say to you. I almost blush as
I think of what I now know must have been the veriest commonplace of
society, but which to my ears, in all their untutored ignorance, sounded
very odd.

Mamma--and you know her prudery--is actually in ecstasy with them. The
Prince said to me last night, "Savez-vous, Mademoiselle! Madame votre
mère est d'une beauté classique?" and I assure you ma was delighted with
the compliment when she heard it. Papa is not so tractable: he calls
them the most atrocious names, and has all the old prejudices about the
Continent that we see in the old farces. Cary is, however, worse again,
and thinks their easy elegance, is impertinence, and all the graceful
charm of their manner nothing but--her own words--"egregious vanity."
Shall I whisper you a bit of a secret? Well, then, Kitty, the reason
of this repugnance may be that she makes no impression whatever,
notwithstanding her beauty; and there is no denying that she does not
possess the gift--whatever it be--of fascination. She has, besides, a
species of antipathy to everything foreign, that she makes no effort
to disguise. A rather unfortunate acquaintance ma made, on board the
steam-packet, with a certain Mr. Krauth, who called himself sub-consul
of somewhere in Holland, but who turned out to be a Jew pedler, has
given Cary such an opportunity of inveighing against all foreigners that
she is positively unendurable. This Krauth, I must say, was atrociously
vulgar, and shockingly ugly; but as he could talk some broken English,
ma rather liked him, and we had him to tea; after which he took James
home to his lodgings, to show him some wonderful stuffed birds that he
was bringing to the Royal Princesses. I have not patience to tell you
all the narrative; but the end of it was that poor dear James, having
given all his pocket-money and his silver pencil-case for a tin musical
snuff-box that won't play Weber's last waltz, except in jerks like a
hiccough, actually exchanged two dozen of his new shirts for a box of
Havannah cigars and a cigar-case with a picture of Fanny Elssler on it!
Papa was in a towering passion when he heard of it, and hastened off to
K.'s lodgings; but he had already decamped. This unhappy incident threw
a shade over our last few days at Ostend; for James never came down
to dine, but sat in his own room smoking the atrocious cigars, and
contemplating the portrait of the charming Fanny,--pursuits which, I
must say, seemed to have conduced to a most melancholy and despondent
frame of mind.

There was another _mésaventure_, my dearest Kitty. My thanks to that
sweet language for the word by which I characterize it! A certain Count
Victor de Lancy, who made acquaintance with us at the _table d'hôte_,
and was presuming enough to visit us afterwards, turned out to be a
common thief! and who, though under the surveillance of the police,
made away with ma's workbox, and her gold spectacles, putting on pa's
paletot, and a new plaid belonging to James, as he passed out. It is
very shocking; but confess, dearest, what a land it must be, where the
pedlers are insinuating, and the very pickpockets have all the ease and
breeding of the best society. I assure you that I could not credit the
guilt of M. de L., until the Brigadier came yesterday to inquire about
our losses, and take what he called his _signalement_. I thought, for
a moment or two, that he had made a mistake, Kitty, and was come for
_mine_; for he looked into my eyes in such a way, and spoke so softly,
that I began to blush; and mamma, always on the watch, bridled up, and
said, "Mary Anne!" in that voice you must so well remember; and so it
is, my dear friend, the thief and the constable, and I have no doubt,
too, the judge, the jury, and the jailer, are all on the same beat!

I have just been called away to see such a love of a rose tunic, all
_glacé_, to be worn over a dull slate-colored jupe, looped up at one
side with white camellias and lilies of the valley. Think of me, Kitty,
with my hair drawn back and slightly powdered, red heels to my shoes,
and a great fan hanging to my side, like grave Aunt Susan In the
picture, wanting nothing but the love-sick swain that plays the
flageolet at her feet!--Madame Adèle, the modiste, says, "not long to
wait for a dozen such,"--and this not for a fancy ball, dearest, but for
a simple evening party,--a "dance-able tea," as papa will call it. I
vow to you, Kitty, that it greatly detracts from the pictorial effect
of this taste, to see how obstinately men will adhere to their present
ungainly and ungraceful style of dress,--that shocking solecism in
costume, a narrow-tailed coat, and those more fearful outrages on shape
and symmetry for which no name has been invented in any language. Now,
the levelling effect of this black-coat system is terrific; and there is
no distinguishing a man of real rank from his tailor,--amongst English
at least, for the crosses and decorations so frequent with foreigners
are unknown to us. Talking of these, Kitty, the Prince of Aguila Nero is
splendid. He wears nearly every bird and beast that Noah had in the
ark, and a few others quite unknown to antediluvial zoology. These
distinctions are sad reflections on the want of a chivalric feeling in
our country; and when we think of the heroic actions, the doughty deeds,
and high achievements of these Paladins, we are forced to blush for the
spirit that condemns us to be a nation of shopkeepers.

How I run on, dearest, from one topic to another! just as to my mind
is presented the delightful succession of objects about me,--objects of
whose very existence I did not know till now! And then to think of what
a life of obscurity and darkness we were condemned to, at home!--our
neighborhood, a priest, a miller, and those odious Davises; our
gayeties, a detestable dinner at the Grange; our theatricals, "The
Castle Spectre," performed in the coach-house; and instead of those
gorgeous and splendid ceremonials of our Church, so impressive, so
soul-subduing, Kitty, the little dirty chapel at Bruff, with Larry
Behan, the lame sacristan, hobbling about and thrashing the urchins
with the handle of the extinguisher! his muttered "If I was near yeez!"
breaking in on the "Oremus, Domine." Shall I own it, Kitty, there is a
dreadful vulgarity about our dear little circle of Dodsborough; and "one
demoralizes," as the French say, by the incessant appeal of low and too
familiar associations.

I have been again called away to interpret for papa, with the police.
That graceless little wretch, Paddy Byrne, who was left behind by the
train at Malines, went to eat his dinner at one of the small restaurants
in the town, called the "Cheval Pie," and not finding the food to his
satisfaction, got into some kind of an altercation with the waiter, when
the name of the hostel coming up in the dispute, suggested to Paddy
the horrid thought that it was the "Horse Pie-house" he had chanced
upon,--an idea so revolting to his culinary prejudices that he smashed
and broke everything before him, and was only subdued at last by a
corporal's party of the gendarmerie, who handcuffed and conveyed him to
Brussels; and here he is, now, crying and calling himself a "poor boy
that was dragged from home," and, in fact, trying to persuade himself
and all around him that he has been sold into slavery by a cruel
master. Betty Cobb, too, has just joined the chorus, and is eloquently
interweaving a little episode of Irish wrongs and sorrows into the
tissue of Paddy's woes!

Betty is worse than him. There is nothing good enough for her to eat; no
bed to sleep upon; she even finds the Belgians deficient in cleanliness.
This, after Bruff, is a little too bad; mamma, however, stands by her in
everything, and in the end she will become intolerable. James intends
to send a few lines to your brother Robert; but if he should fail--not
improbable, as writing, with him, combines the double difficulties of
orthography and manuscript--pray remember us kindly to him, and believe
me ever, my dearest Kitty,

Your heart-devoted

Mart Anne Dodd.

P. S. must not think of writing; but you may tell him that I'm
unchanged, unchangeable. The cold maxims of worldly prudence, the sordid
calculations of worldly interests affect me not. As Metastasio says,--

     "O, se ragione intende Subito amor, non è."

I know it,--I feel it. There is what Balzac calls _une perversité
divine_ in true affection, that teaches one to brave father and
mother and brother, and this glorious sentiment is the cradle of true
martyrdom. May my heart cherish this noble grief, and never forget that
if there is no struggle, there is no victory!

Do you remember Captain Morris, of the 25th, the little dark officer
that came down to Bruff, after the burning of the Sheas? I saw him
yesterday; but, Kitty, how differently he looked here in his _passé_
blue frock, from his air in "our village!" He wanted to bow, but I
cut him dead. "No," thought I, "times are changed, and we with them!"
Caroline, who was walking behind me with James, however, not only
saluted, but spoke to him. He said, "I see your sister forgets me; but
I know how altered ill-health has made me. I am going to leave the
service." He asked where we were stopping,--a most unnecessary piece
of attention; for after the altercation he had with pa on the Bench at
Bruff, I think common delicacy might keep him from seeking us out.

Try and persuade your papa to take you abroad, Kitty, if only for a
summer ramble; believe me, there is no other refining process like it.
If you only saw James already--you remember what a sloven he was--you'd
not know him; his hair so nicely divided and perfumed; his gloves so
accurately fitting; his boots perfection in shape and polish; and all
the dearest little trinkets in the world--pistols and steam-carriages,
death's-heads, ships and serpents--hanging from his watch-chain; and as
for the top of his cane, Kitty, it is paved with turquoise, and has
a great opal in the middle. Where, how, and when he got all this
"elegance," I can't even guess, and I see it must be a secret, for
neither pa nor ma have ever yet seen him _en gala_. I wish your brother
Robert was with him. It would be such an advantage to him. I am certain
Trinity College is all that you say of it; but confess, Kitty, Dublin is
terribly behind the world in all that regards civilization and "ton."




LETTER IV. JAMES DODD TO ROBERT DOOLAN, ESQUIRE TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN

HÔTEL DE BELLEVUE, BRUSSELS.

Dear Bob,--Here we are, living another kind of life from our old
existence at Dodsborough! We have capital quarters at the "Bellevue,"--a
fine hotel, excellent dinners, and, what I think not inferior to either,
a most obliging Jew money-changer hard by, who advances "moderate loans
to respectable parties, on personal security,"--a process in which I
have already made some proficiency, and with considerable advantage to
my outward man. The tailors are first-rate, and rig you out with gloves,
boots, hat, even to your cane,--they forget nothing. The hairdressers
are also incomparable. I thought, at first, that capillary attraction
was beyond _me_; but, to my agreeable surprise, I discover that I boast
a very imposing _chevelure_, and a bright promise of moustache which, as
yet, is only faintly depicted by a dusky line on my upper lip.

It's all nonsense to undervalue dress: I'm no more the same man in my
dark-green paletot, trimmed with Astracan, that I was a month ago in my
fustian shooting-jacket, than a well-plumed eagle is like a half-moulted
turkey. There is an inseparable connection between your coat and your
character; and few things so react on the morality of a man as the cut
of his trousers. Nothing more certainly tells me this than the feeling
with which I enter any public place now, compared to what I experienced
a few weeks back. It was then half shame, half swagger,--a conflict
between modesty and defiance. Now, it is the easy assurance of being
"all right,"--the conviction that my hat, my frock, my cravat, my
vest, can stand the most critical examination; and that if any one be
impertinent enough to indulge in the inquiry through his eye-glass, I
have the equal privilege to return stare for stare, with, mayhap, an
initiatory sneer into the bargain. By the way, the habit of looking
unutterably fierce seems to be the first lesson abroad. The passport
people, as you land, the officers of the Customs, the landlord of your
inn, the waiters, the railroad clerks, all "get up" a general air of
sovereign contempt for everybody and everything, rather puzzling at
first, but quite reassuring when you are trained to reciprocity. For the
time, I rather flatter myself to have learned the dodge well; not but,
I must confess to you, Bob, that my education is prosecuted under
difficulties. During the whole of the morning I 'm either with the
governor or my mother, sight-seeing and house-hunting,--now seeking
out a Rubens, now making an excursion into the market, and making
exploratory researches into the prices of fish, fowl, and vegetables;
cheapening articles that we don't intend to buy,--a process my mother
looks upon as a moral exercise; and climbing up "two-pair," to see
lodgings we have no intention to take: all because, as she says, "we
ought to know everything;" and really the spirit of inquiry that moves
her will have its reward,--not always, perhaps, without some drawbacks,
as witness what happened to us on Tuesday. In our rambles along the
Boulevard de Waterloo, we saw a smart-looking house, with an _affiche_
over the door, "A louer;" and, of course, mother and Mary Anne at once
stopped the carriage for an exploration. In we went, asked for the
proprietor, and saw a small, rosy-cheeked little man, with a big wig,
and a very inquiet, restless look in his eyes. "Could we see the house?
Was it furnished?" "Yes," to both questions. "Were there stables?"
"Capital room for four horses; good water,--two kinds, and both
excellent." Upstairs we toiled, through one _salon_ into another,--now
losing ourselves in dark passages, now coming abruptly to unlock-able
doors,--everlastingly coming back to the spot we had just left, and
conceiving the grandest notions of the number of rooms, from the manner
of our own perambulations. Of course you know the invariable incidents
of this tiresome process, where the owner is always trying to open
impracticable windows, and the visitors will rush into inscrutable
places, in despite of all advice and admonition. Our voyage of discovery
was like all preceding ones; and we looked down well-staircases and up
into skylights,--snuffed for possible smells, and suggested imaginary
smoke, in every room we saw. While we were thus busily criticising
the domicile, its owner, it would seem, was as actively engaged in an
examination of _us_, and apparently with a less satisfactory result, for
he broke in upon one of our consultations by a friendly "No, no, ladies;
it won't do,--it won't do at all. This house would never suit;"
and while my mother stared, and Mary Anne opened wide her eyes in
astonishment, he went on: "We 're only losing time, ladies; both your
time and mine will be wasted. This is not the house for _you_." "I beg
to observe, sir, that I think it is," interposed my mother, who, with
a very womanly feeling, took a prodigious fancy to the place the moment
she discovered there was a difficulty about it. The owner, however,
was to the full as decided; and in fact hurried us out of the rooms,
downstairs, and into the street, with a degree of haste savoring far
more of impatience than politeness. I rather was disposed to laugh
at the little man's energetic rejection of us; but my mother's rage
rendered any "mirthful demonstration inopportune," as the French would
say; and so I only exchanged glances with Mary Anne, while our eloquent
parent abused the "little wretch" to her heart's content. Although the
circumstance was amply discussed by us that evening, we had well-nigh
forgotten it in the morning, when, to our astonishment, our little
friend of the Boulevard sent in his name, "Mr. Cherry," with a request
to see papa. My mother was for seeing him herself; but this amendment
was rejected, and the original motion carried.

After about five minutes' interview, we were alarmed by a sudden noise
and violent cries; and on rushing from the drawing-room, I just caught
sight of Mr. Cherry making a flying leap down the first half of the
staircase, while my father's uplifted foot stood forth to evidence what
had proved the "vis à tergo." His performance of the next flight was
less artistic, for he rolled from top to bottom, when, by an almost
preternatural effort, he made his escape into the street. The governor's
passion made all inquiries perilous for some minutes; in fact, this
attempt to make "Cherry-bounce," as Cary called it, seemed to have got
into his head, for he stormed like a madman. At last the _causa belli_
came out to be, that this unhappy Mr. Cherry had come with an apology
for his strange conduct the day before,--by what think you? By his
having mistaken my mother and sister for what slang people call "a case
of perhaps,"--a blunder which certainly was not to be remedied by
the avowal of it. So at least thought my father, for he cut short the
apology and the explanation at once, ejecting Mr. Cherry by a more
summary process than is recognized in the law-courts.

My mother had hardly dried up her tears in crying, and I mine in
laughing over this strange incident, when there came an emissary of the
gendarmerie to arrest the governor for a violent assault, with intent,
&c. &c, and it is only by the intervention of our Minister here that
bail has been accepted; my father being bound to appear before the
"Court of Correctional Police" on Monday next. If we remain much longer
here, we are likely to learn something of the laws, at least in a way
which people assure you is always most indelible,--practically. If we
continue as we have commenced, a little management on the part of the
lawyers, and a natural desire on the part of my father to obtain
justice, may prolong our legal affairs far into the spring; so that we
may possibly not leave this for some months to come, which, with the aid
of my friend, Lazarus Simrock, may be made pleasurable and profitable.

[Illustration: 058]

It's all very well to talk about "learning French, seeing galleries and
studying works of art," my dear Bob, but where's the time?--that's the
question. My mother and the girls poach my entire morning. It's the
rarest thing in the world for me to get free of them before five
o'clock; and then I have just time to dash down to the club, and have a
"shy" at the écarté before dinner. Smart play it is, sometimes seventy,
ay, a hundred Naps, on a game; and such players too!--fellows that sit
for ten minutes with a card on their knee, studying your face,
watching every line and lineament of your features, and reading you,
by Jove,--reading you like a book. All the false air of ease and
indifference, all the brag assurance you may get up to conceal a "bad
hand," isn't worth sixpence. They laugh at your puerile efforts, and
tell you "you are voled" before you've played a card. We hear so much
about genius and talent, and all that kind of thing at home, and you,
I have no doubt, are full of the high abilities of some fellowship
or medallist man of Trinity; but give _me_ the deep penetration, the
intense powers of calculation, the thorough insight into human nature,
of some of the fellows I see here; and for success in life, I 'll back
them against all your conic section and x plus y geniuses, and all the
double first classes that ever breathed. There's a splendid fellow here,
a Pole, called Koratinsky; he commanded the cavalry at Ostrolenca,
and, it is said, rode down the Russian Guard, and sabred the Imperial
Cuirassiers to a man. He's the first écarté and piquet player in Europe,
and equal to Deschapelles at whist. Though he is very distant and cold
in his manner to strangers, he has been most kind and good-natured to
me; has given me some capital advice, too, and warned me against several
of the fellows that frequent the club. He tells me that he detests and
abhors play, but resorts to it as a distraction. "Que voulez-vous?"
said he to me the other day; "when a man who calls himself Ladislaus
Koratinsky, who has the blood of three monarchs in his veins, who has
twice touched the crown of his native land, sees himself an exile and a
'proscrit,' it is only in the momentary excitement of the gaming-table
he can find a passing relief for crushing and withering recollections."
He could be in all the highest circles here. The greatest among the
nobles are constantly begging and entreating him to come to their
houses, but he sternly refuses. "Let me know one family," says he, "one
domestic circle, where I can go uninvited, when I will,--where I can
repose my confidence, tell my sorrows, and speak of my poor country;
give me one such, and I ask for no more; but as for dukes and grand
seigneurs, princesses and duchesses, I've had but too much of them." I
assure you, Bob, it 's like a page out of some old story of chivalry to
listen to him. The splendid sentiments, the glorious conceptions, and
the great plans he has for the regeneration of Europe; and how he abhors
the Emperor of Russia! "It's a 'duel à mort entre Nicholas et moi,'"
said he to me yesterday.

"The terms of the conflict were signed on the field of Ostrolenca; for
the present the victory is his, but there is a time coming!" I have been
trying all manner of schemes to have him invited to dine with us. Mother
and Mary Anne are with me, heart and hand; but the governor's late
mischances have soured him against all foreigners, and I must bide my
time. I feel, however, when my father sees him, he'll be delighted with
him; and then he could be invaluable to us in the way of introductions,
for he knows every crowned head and prince on the Continent.

After dinner, pretending to take an evening lesson in French, I'm off to
the Opera. I belong to an omnibus-box,--all the fast fellows here,--such
splendid dressers, Bob, and each coming in his brougham. I'm deucedly
ashamed that I've nothing but a cabriolet, which I hire from my friend
Lazarus at twelve pounds a month. They quiz me tremendously about my
"rococo" taste in equipage, but I turn off the joke by telling them that
I'm expecting my cattle and my "traps" from London next week. Lazarus
promises me that I shall have a splendid "Malibran" from Hobson, and two
grays over by the Antwerp packet, if I give him a bill for the price, at
three months; and that he'll keep them for me at his stables till I
'm quite ready to pay. Stickler, the other job-master here, wanted the
governor's name on the bills, and behaved like a scoundrel, threatening
to tell my father all about it It cost me a "ten-pounder" to stop him.

After the theatre we adjourn to Dubos's to supper, and I can give you
no idea, Bob, of what a thing that supper is! I remember when we used
to fancy it was rather a grand affair to finish our evening at Jude's or
Hayes's with a vulgar set-out of mutton-chops, spatchcocks, and devilled
kidneys, washed down with* that filthy potation called punch. I shudder
at the vile abomination of the whole when I think of our delicate
lobster en mayonnaise^ or crouton aux truffes, red partridges in Rhine
wine, and maraschino jelly, with Moët frappé to perfection. We generally
invite some of the "corps," who abound in conversational ability, and
are full of the pleasant gossip of the stage. There is Mademoiselle
Léonine, too, in the ballet, the loveliest creature ever was seen. They
say Count Maerlens, aide-de-camp of the King, is privately married
to her, but that she won't leave the boards till she has saved a
million,--but whether of francs or pounds, I don't remember.

When our supper is concluded, it is generally about four o'clock, and
then we go to D'Arlaen's rooms, where we play chicken-hazard till our
various houses are accessible.

I 'm not much up to this as yet; my forte is écarté, at which I am the
terror of these fellows; and when the races come on next month, I
think my knowledge of horseflesh will teach them a thing or two. I have
already a third share in a splendid horse called Number Nip, bred out
of Barnabas by a Middleton mare; he's engaged for the Lacken Cup and
the Salle Sweepstakes, and I 'm backing him even against the field for
everything I can get. If you 'd like to net a fifty without risk, say so
before the tenth, and I 'll do it for you.

So that you see, Bob, without De Porquet's Grammar and "Ollendorff's
Method," my time is tolerably full. In fact, if the day had forty-eight
hours, I have something to fill every one of them.

There would be nothing but pleasure in this life, but for certain
drawbacks, the worst of which is that I am not alone here. You have no
idea, Bob, to what subterfuges I 'm reduced, to keep my family out
of sight of my grand acquaintances. Sometimes I call the governor my
guardian; sometimes an uncle, so rich that I am forced to put up with
all his whims and caprices. Egad! it went so far, f other day, that I
had to listen to a quizzing account of my aunt's costume at a concert,
and hear my mother shown up as a _précieuse ridicule_ of the first
water. There's no keeping them out of public places, too; and how they
know of all the various processions, Te Deums, and the like I cannot
even guess. My own metamorphosis is so complete that I have cut them
twice dead, in the Park; and no later than last night, I nearly ran over
my father in the Allée Verte with my tandem leader, and heard the whole
story this morning at breakfast, with the comforting assurance that "he
'd know the puppy again, and will break every bone in his body if he
catches him." In consequence of which threat, I have given orders for a
new beard and moustache of the Royal Albert hue, instead of black, which
I have worn heretofore. I must own, though, it is rather a bore to
stand quietly by and see fellows larking your sister; but Mary Anne is
perfectly incorrigible, notwithstanding all I have said to her. Cary's
safety lies in hating the Continent and all foreigners, and that is just
as absurd.

The governor, it seems, is perpetually writing to Vickars, our member,
about something for _me_. Now, I sincerely hope that he may not succeed;
for I own to you that I do not anticipate as much pleasure and amusement
from either a "snug berth in the Customs" or a colonial situation; and
after all, Bob, why should I be reduced to accept of either? Our estate
is a good one, and if a little encumbered or so, why, we 're not worse
off than our neighbors. If I must do something, I 'd rather go into a
Light Cavalry Regiment--such as the Eleventh, or the Seventeenth--than
anything else. I say this to you, because your uncle Purcell is bent on
his own plans for me, which would be nothing short of utter degradation;
and if there's anything low-bred and vulgar on earth, it's what they
call a "Profession." You know the old adage about leading a horse to the
water; now I frankly declare to you that twenty shall not make me drink
any of the springs of this knowledge, whether Law, Medicine, or Divinity
lie at the bottom of the well.

It does not require any great tact or foresight to perceive that not
a man of my "set" would ever know me again under such circumstances.
I have heard their opinions often enough on these matters not to be
mistaken; and whatever we may think in Ireland about our doctors and
barristers, they are what Yankees call "mighty small potatoes" abroad.

Lord George Tiverton said to me last night, "Why doesn't your governor
put you into 'the House'? You'd make a devilish good figure there." And
the notion has never left me since. Lord George himself is Member for
Hornby, but he never attends the sittings, and only goes into Parliament
as a means of getting leave from his regiment. They say he's the
"fastest" fellow in the service; he has already run through seventeen
thousand a year, and one hundred and twenty thousand of his wife's
fortune. They are separated now, and he has something like twelve
hundred a year to live on; just enough for cigars and brandy and water,
he calls it. He's the best-tempered fellow I ever saw, and laughs and
jokes about his own misfortunes as freely as possible. He knows the
world--and he's not yet five-and-twenty--perhaps better than any man
I ever saw. There is not a bill-discounter, not a betting-man, nor a
ballet-dancer, he is not acquainted with; and such amusing stories as he
tells of his London life and experiences. When he found that he had run
through everything--when all his horses were seized at Ascot, and his
house taken in execution in London, he gave a splendid _fête_ at Hornby,
and invited upwards of sixty people down there, and half the county to
meet them. "I resolved," said he, "on a grand finish; and I assure you
that the company did not enjoy themselves the less heartily because
every second fellow in my livery was a sheriff's officer, and that
all the forks and spoons on the table were under seizure. There was
a 'caption,' as they term it, on everything, down to the footmen's
bag-wigs and knee-buckles. We went to supper at two o'clock; and I took
in the Duchess of Allington, who assuredly never suspected that there
was such a close alliance between my drawing-room and the Queen's Bench.
The supper was exquisite; poor Marriton had exhausted himself in the
devices of his art, and most ingeniously intimated his appreciation
of my situation by a plate of ortolans _en salmi, sautés à la
Fonblanque_,--a delicate allusion to the Bankrupt Commissioner. I nearly
finished the dish myself, drank off half a bottle of champagne, took out
Lady Emily de Maulin for the cotillon, and then, slipping away, threw
myself into a post-chaise, arrived at Dover for the morning mail-packet,
and landed at Boulogne free as William Tell, or that eagle which he
is so enthusiastic in describing as a most remarkable instance of
constitutional liberty." These are his own words, Bob; but without you
saw his manner, and heard his voice, you could form no notion whatever
of the careless, happy self-satisfaction of one who calls himself
irretrievably ruined.

From all that I have been jotting down, you may fancy the set I am
moving in, and the class with whom I associate. Then there is a German
Graf von Blumenkohl, and a Russian Prince Kubitzkoy, two tremendous
swells; a young French Marquis de Tregues, whose mother was
granddaughter, I believe, of Madame du Barri, and a large margin of
inferior dons, Spanish, Italian, and Belgian. That your friend Jemmy
Dodd should be a star, even a little one, in such a galaxy, is no small
boast; and such, my dear Bob, I am bound to feel it. Each of these
fellows has a princely fortune, as well as a princely name, and it is
not without many a clever dodge and cunning artifice that, weighted as I
am, I can keep pace with them. I hope you'll succeed, with all my heart,
for the scholarship or fellowship. Which is it? Don't blame me for the
blunder, for I have never, all my life through, been able to distinguish
between certain things which I suppose other persons find no resemblance
in. Thus I never knew exactly whether the word "people" was spelled "eo"
or "oe." I never knew the Derby from the Oaks, nor shall I ever, I'm
certain, be able to separate in my mind Moore O'Ferral from Carew
O'Dwyer, though I am confidently informed there is not a particle of
similarity in the individuals, any more than in the names.

Write to me when your match is over,--I mean your examination,--and say
where you 're placed. I 'll take you against the field, at the current
odds, in "fives."

And believe me, ever your attached friend,

J. Dodd.




LETTER V. KENNY DODD TO THOMAS PURCELL, ESQ.

HÔTEL DE BELLEVUE, BRUSSELS.

Dear Tom,--Yours did not reach me till yesterday, owing to some
confusion at the Post-office. There is another Dodd here, who has been
receiving _my_ letters, and I _his_, for the last week; and I conclude
that each of us has learned more than was quite necessary of the other's
affairs; for while _he_ was reading of all the moneyed distresses
and embarrassments of your humble servant, _I_ opened a letter dated
Doctors' Commons, beginning, "Dear sir, we have at last obtained the
most satisfactory proofs against Mrs. Dodd, and have no hesitation in
now submitting the case to a jury." We met yesterday, and exchanged
credentials, with an expression of face that I'm sure "Phiz" would have
given a five-pound note to look at. Peachem and Lockit were nothing to
it. We agreed that either of us ought to leave this, to prevent similar
mistakes in future, although, in my heart, I believe that we now know so
much of each other's affairs, that we might depute one of us to conduct
both correspondences. In consequence, we tossed up who was to go. _He_
won; so that we take our departure on Wednesday next, if I can settle
matters in the mean while. I 'm told Bonn, on the Rhine, is a cheap
place, and good for education,--a great matter as regards James,--so
that you may direct your next to me there. To tell you the truth, Tom,
I'm scarcely sorry to get away, although the process will be anything
but a cheap one. First of all, we have taken the rooms for three months,
and hired a job-coach for the same time. Moving is also an expensive
business, and not over-agreeable at this season; but against these
there is the setoff that Mrs. D. and the girls are going to the devil in
expense for dress. From breakfast-time till three or four o'clock
every day, the house is like a fair with milliners, male and female,
hairdressers, perfumers, shoemakers, and trinket-men. I thought we'd
done with all this when we left London; but it seems that everything we
bought there is perfectly useless, and Mrs. D. comes sailing in every
now and then, to make me laugh, as she says, at a bit of English taste
by showing me where her waist is too short, or her sleeves too long; and
Mary Anne comes down to breakfast in a great stiff watered silk, which
for economy she has converted into a house-dress. Caroline, I must say,
has not followed the lead, and is quite satisfied to be dressed as
she used to be. James I see little of, for he 's working hard at the
languages, and, from what the girls say, with great success. Of course,
this is all for the best; but it's little use French or even Chinese
would be to him in the Customs or the Board of Trade, and it's there I'm
trying to get him. Vickars told me last week that his name is down on
no less than four lists, and it will be bad luck but we 'll bit upon
something. Between ourselves, I'm not over-pleased with Vickars.
Whenever I write to him about James, his reply is always what he's doing
about the poor laws, or the Jews, or the grant to Maynooth; so that I
had to tell him, at last, that I 'd rather hear that my son was in the
Revenue, than that every patriarch in Palestine was in Parliament, or
every papist in Ireland eating venison and guinea-hens. Patriotism is
a fine thing, if you have a fine fortune, and some men we could mention
have n't made badly out of it, without a sixpence; but for one like
myself, the wrong side of fifty, with an encumbered estate, and no
talents for agitation, it's as expensive as horse-racing, or yachting,
or any other diversion of the kind. So there's no chance of a tenant
for Dodsborough! You ought to put it in the English papers, with a
puff about the shooting and the trout-fishing, and the excellent
neighborhood, and all that kind of thing. There 's not a doubt but it's
too good for any Manchester blackguard of them all! What you say about
Tully Brack is quite true. The encumbrances are over eleven thousand;
and if we bought in the estate at three or four, there would be so much
gain to us. The "Times" little knew the good it was doing us when it
was blackguarding the Irish landlords, and depreciating Irish property.
There's many a one has been able to buy in his own land for one-fifth of
the mortgages on it; and if this is n't repudiation, it's not so far off
Pennsylvania, after all.

I don't quite approve of your plan for Ballyslevin. Whenever a property
's in Chancery, the best thing is to let it go to ruin entirely. The
worse the land is, the more miserable the tenants, the cheaper will be
the terms you 'll get it on; and if the boys shoot a receiver once or
twice, no great harm. As for the Government, I don't think they 'll
do anything for Ireland except set us by the ears about education and
church matters; and we 're getting almost tired of quarrelling, Tom; for
so it is, the very best of dispositions may be imposed on too far!

Now, as to "education," how many amongst those who insist on a
particular course for the poor, ever thought of stipulating for the
same for their own children? or do they think that the Bible is only
necessary for such as have not an independent fortune? And as to
Maynooth, is there any man such a fool as to believe that £30,000 a
year would make the priests loyal? You gave the money well knowing what
for,--to teach Catholic theology, not to instil the oath of allegiance.
To expect more would be like asking a market-gardener to raise
strawberries with fresh cream round them! The truth is, they don't wish
to advance our interests in England. They 're afraid of us, Tom. If we
ever were to take a national turn, like the Scotch, for instance, we
might prove very dangerous rivals to them in many ways. I 'm sick of
politics; not, indeed, that I know too much of what's doing, for the
last "Times" I saw was cut up into a new pattern for a polka, and they
only kept me the supplement, which, as you know, is more varied than
amusing. In reply to your question as to how I like this kind of life, I
own to you that it does n't quite suit me. Maybe I 'm too old in years,
maybe too old in my notions, but it does n't do, Tom. There is an
everlasting bowing and scraping and introducing,--a perpetual prelude
to acquaintanceship that never seems to begin. It appears to me like an
orchestra that never got further than the tuning of the instruments!
I 'm sure that, at the least, I 've exchanged bows and grins and leers
with fifty gentlemen here, whom _I_ should n't know to-morrow, nor
do _they_ care whether I did or no. Their intercourse is like their
cookery, and you are always asking, "Is there nothing substantial
coming?" Then they 're frivolous, Tom. I don't mean that they are fond
of pleasure, and given up to amusement, but that their very pleasures
and amusements are contemptible in themselves. No such thing as
field-sports; at least, nothing deserving the name; no manly pastimes,
no bodily exercises; and lastly, they all, even the oldest of them,
think that they ought to make love to your wife and daughters, just as
you hand a lady a chair or a cup of tea in our country,--a mere matter
of course. I need not tell you that my observations on men and manners
are necessarily limited by my ignorance of the language; but I have
acquired the deaf man's privilege, and if I hear the less, I see the
more.

I begin to think, my dear Tom, that we all make a great mistake in this
taste we've got into for foreign travel, foreign languages, and foreign
accomplishments. We rear up our families with notions and habits quite
inapplicable to home purposes; and we are like the Parisian shopkeepers,
that have nothing on sale but articles of luxury; and, after all, we
have n't a genius for this trifling, and we make very ungraceful idlers
in the end. To train a man for the Continent, you must begin early;
teach him French when a child; let him learn dominoes at four, and to
smoke cigars at six, wear lacquered boots at eight, and put his hair
in paper at nine; eat sugar-plums for dinner, and barley-water for tea;
make him a steady shot with the pistol, and a cool hand with the rapier;
and there he is finished and fit for the Boulevard,--a nice man for the
_salons_.

It is cheap, there is no doubt; but it costs a great deal of money to
come at the economy. You 'll perhaps say that's my own fault. Maybe it
is. We 'll talk of it more another time.

I ought to confess that Mrs. D. is delighted with everything; she vows
that she is only beginning to live; and to hear her talk, you 'd think
that Dodsborough was one of the new model penitentiaries. Mary Anne's
her own daughter, and she raves about princes and dukes and counts, all
day long. What they 'll say when I tell them that we 're to be off on
Wednesday next, I can't imagine. I intend to dine out that evening, for
I know there will be no standing the row!

The Ambassador has been mighty polite and attentive: we dined there last
week. A grand dinner, and fine company; but, talking French, and nothing
but French, all the time, Mrs. D. and your humble servant were rather
at a nonplus. Then we had his box at the opera, where, I must say, Tom,
anything to equal the dancing I never saw,--indecency is no name for it.
Not but Mrs. D. and Mary Anne are of a contrary opinion, and tauntingly
ask me if I prefer a "Tatter Jack Walsh," at the cross-roads, to
Taglioni. As for the singing, it's screeching,--that's the word for it,
screeching. The composer is one Verdi,--a fellow, they tell me, that
cracks every voice in Europe; and I can believe it. The young woman that
played the first part grew purple in the face, and strained till
her neck looked like a half-unravelled cable; her mouth was dragged
sideways; and it was only when I thought she was off in strong
convulsions that the audience began to applaud. There's no saying what
their enthusiasm might not have been had she burst a blood-vessel.

I intended to have despatched this by to-day's post, but it is Saint
Somebody's day, and the office closes at two o'clock, so that I 'll have
to keep it over, perhaps till Saturday, for to-morrow, I find, we 're to
go to Waterloo, to see the field of battle. There's a prince--whose name
I forget, and, indeed, I could n't spell, if I remembered it--going to
be our "Cicerone." I 'm not sure if he says he was there at the battle;
but Mrs. D. believes him as she would the Duke of Wellington. Then
there's a German count, whose father did something wonderful, and two
Belgian barons, whose ancestors, I 've no doubt, sustained the national
reputation for speed. The season is hardly suitable for such an
excursion; but even a day in the country--a few hours in the fields and
the free air--will be a great enjoyment James is going to bring a Polish
friend of his,--a great Don he calls him,--but I 'm so overlaid with
nobility, the Khan of Tartary would not surprise me now. I 'll keep this
open to add a few lines, and only say good-bye for the present.


Saturday.

Waterloo's a humbug, Tom. I don't mean to say that Bony found it so some
thirty-odd years back, but such it now appears. I assure you they 've
cut away half the field to commemorate the battle,--a process mighty
like slicing off a man's nose to establish his identity. The result is
that you might as well stand upon Hounslow Heath or Salisbury Plain, and
listen to a narrative of the action, as visit Waterloo for the sake of
the localities. La Haye Sainte and Hougoumont stand, certainly, in the
old places, but the deep gorge beside the one, and the ridge from whence
the cannonade shattered the other, are totally obliterated. The guides
tell you, indeed, where Vivian's brigade stood, where Picton charged and
fell, where Ney's column halted, faltered, and broke; they speak of the
ridge behind which the guard lay in long expectancy; they describe to
you the undulating swell over which our line advanced, cheering madly:
but it's like listening to a description of Killarney in a fog, and
being informed that Turk Mountain is yonder, and that the waterfall is
down a glen to your right. One thing is clear, Tom, however,--we beat
the French; and when I say "We," I mean what I say. England knows, and
all Europe knows, who won the battle, and more's the disgrace for
the way we 're treated. But, after all, it's our own fault in a great
measure, Tom; we take everything that comes from Parliament as a boon
and a favor, little guessing often how it will turn out. Our conduct in
this respect reminds me of poor Jack Whalley's wife. You remember Jack,
that was postboy at the Clanbrazil Arms. Well, his wife one day chanced
to find an elegant piece of white leather on the road, and she brought
it home with her in great delight, to mend Jack's small clothes, which
she did very neatly. Jack set off the next day, little suspecting what
was in store for him; but when he trotted about five miles,--it was in
the month of July,--he began to feel mighty uneasy in the saddle,--a
feeling that continued to increase at every moment, till at last, as he
said, "It was like taking a canter on a beehive in swarming time;" and
well it might, for the piece of leather was no other than a blister that
the apothecary's boy had dropped that morning on the road; and so it is,
Tom. There's many a thing we take to be a fine patch for our nakedness
that's only a blister, after all. Witness the Poor Law and the "Cumbrous
Estates Court," as Rooney calls it. But I 'm wandering away from
Waterloo all this time. You know the grand controversy is about what
time the Prussians came up; because that mainly decides who won the
battle. I believe it's nearly impossible to get at the truth of the
matter; for though it seems clear enough they were in the wood early in
the day, it appears equally plain they stayed there--and small blame to
them--till they saw the Inniskillings cutting down the Cuirassiers and
sabring all before them. They waited, as you and I often waited in a
row, till the enemy began to run, and then they were down on them.
Even that same was no small help; for, by the best accounts, the French
require a deal of beating, and we were dreadfully tired giving it to
them! Sergeant Cotton, the guide, tells me it was a grand sight just
about seven o'clock, when the whole line began cheering; first, Adam's
brigade, then Cooke's battalion, all taking it up and cheering madly;
the general officers waving their hats, and shouting like the rest. I
was never able to satisfy myself whether we gained or lost most by that
same victory of Waterloo; for you see, Tom, after all our fighting in
Spain and Portugal, after all Nelson's great battles, all our
triumphs and votes of thanks, Europe is going back to the old system
again,--kings bullying their people, setting spies on them, opening
their letters, transporting the writers, and hanging the readers. If
they 'd have let Bony alone when he came back from Elba, the chances
were that he 'd not have disturbed the peace of the world. He had
already got his bellyful of fighting; he was getting old, falling into
flesh, and rather disposed to think more of his personal ease than he
used to do. Are you aware that the first thing he said on entering
the Tuileries from Elba was, "Avant tout, un bon dîner"? One of the
marshals, who heard the speech, whispered to a friend, "He is greatly
changed; you 'll see no more campaigns." I know you 'll reply to me with
your old argument about legitimacy and divine right, and all that kind
of thing. But, my dear Tom, for the matter of that, have n't I a divine
right to my ancestral estate of Tullylicknaslatterley; and look
what they 're going to do with it, to-morrow or next day! 'T is much
Commissioner Longfield would mind, if I begged to defer the sale, on
the ground of "my divine right." Kings are exactly like landlords; they
can't do what they like with their own, hard as it may seem to say so.
They have their obligations and their duties; and if they fail in them,
they come into the Encumbered Estates Court, just like us,--ay, and,
just like us, they "take very little by their motion."

I know it's very hard to be turned out of your "holding." I can imagine
the feelings with which a man would quit such a comfortable quarter
as the Tuileries, and such a nice place for summer as Versailles;
Dodsborough is too fresh in my mind to leave any doubt on this point;
but there 's another side of the question, Tom. What were they there
for? You'll call out, "This is all Socialism and Democracy," and the
devil knows what else. Maybe I 'll agree with you. Maybe I 'll say I
don't like the doctrine myself. Maybe I 'll tell you that I think the
old time was pleasantest, when, if we pressed a little hard to-day, why,
we were all the kinder to-morrow, and both ruler and ruled looked more
leniently on each other's faults. But say what we will, do what we will,
these days are gone by, and they 'll not come back again. There 's a set
of fellows at work, all over the world, telling the people about their
rights. Some of these are very acute and clever chaps, that don't
overstate the case; they neither go off into any flights about universal
equality, or any balderdash about our being of the same stock; but they
stick to two or three hard propositions, and they say, "Don't pay more
for anything than you can get it for,--that's free-trade; don't pay for
anything you don't want,--that's a blow at the Church Establishment;
don't pay for soldiers if you don't want to fight,--that 's at 'a
standing army;' and, above all, when you have n't a pair of breeches
to your back, don't be buying embroidered small-clothes for
lords-in-waiting or gentlemen of the bedchamber." But here I am again,
running away from Waterloo just as if I was a Belgian.

When we got to Hougoumont, a dreadful storm of rain came on,--such
rain as I thought never fell out of Ireland. It came swooping along
the ground, and wetting you through and through in five minutes. The
thunder, too, rolled awfully, crashing and cannonading around these old
walls, as if to wake up the dead by a memory of the great artillery.
Mrs. D. took to her prayers in the little chapel, with Mary Anne and
the Pole, James's friend. Caroline stood with me at a little window,
watching the lightning; and James, by way of airing his French, got into
a conversation, or rather a discussion, about the battle with a small
foreigner with a large beard, that had just come in, drenched to the
skin. The louder it thundered, the louder they spoke, or rather screamed
at each other; and though I don't fancy James was very fluent in the
French, it's clear the other was getting the worst of the argument, for
he grew terribly angry and jumped about and flourished a stick, and, in
fact, seemed very anxious to try conclusions once more on the old field
of conflict.

James carried the day, at last; for the other was obliged, as Uncle Toby
says, "to evacuate Flanders,"--meaning, thereby, to issue forth into the
thickest of the storm rather than sustain the combat any longer. When
the storm passed over, we made our way back to the little inn at the
village of Waterloo, kept in the house where Lord Anglesey suffered
amputation, and there we dined. It was neither a very good dinner nor
a very social party. Mrs. D.'s black velvet bonnet and blue ribbons
had got a tremendous drenching; Mary Anne contrived to tear a new
satin dress all down the back, with a nail in the old chapel; James
was unusually grave and silent; and as for the Pole, all his efforts at
conversation were so marred by his bad English that he was a downright
bore. It is a mistake to bring one of these foreigners out with a small
family party! they neither understand _you_ nor _you them_. Cary was the
only one that enjoyed herself; but she went about the inn, picking up
little curiosities of the battle,--old buttons, bullets, and the like;
and it was a comfort to see that one, at least, amongst us derived
pleasure from the excursion.

I have often heard descriptions of that night march from Brussels to
the field; and truly, what with the gloomy pine-wood, the deep and miry
roads, and the falling rain, it must have been a very piteous affair;
but for downright ill-humor and discontent, I 'd back our own journey
over the same ground against all. The horses, probably worn out with
toiling over the field all day, were dead beat, and came gradually down
from a trot to a jog, and then to a shamble, and at last to a stop.
James got down from the box, and helped to belabor them; it was raining
torrents all this time. I got out, too, to help; for one of the beasts,
although too tired to go, contrived to kick his leg over the pole,
and couldn't get it back again; but the Count contented himself with
uttering most unintelligible counsels from the window, which when he
saw totally unheeded, he threw himself back in the coach, lighted his
meerschaum, and began to smoke.

Imagine the scene at that moment, Tom. The driver was undressing himself
coolly on the roadside, to examine a kick he had just received from one
of the horses; James was holding the beasts by the head, lashing, as
they were, all the time; I was running frantically to and fro, to seek
for a stone to drive in the linch-pin, which was all but out; while
Mrs. D. and the girls, half suffocated between smoke and passion,
were screaming and coughing in chorus. By dint of violent bounding and
jerking, the wheel was wrenched clean off the axle at last, and down
went the whole conveniency on one side, our Polish friend assisting
himself out of the window by stepping over Mrs. D.'s head, as she lay
fainting within. I had, however, enough to do without thinking of him,
for the door being jammed tight would not open, and I was obliged to
pull Mrs. D. and the girls out by the window. The beasts, by the same
time, had kicked themselves free of everything but the pole, with which
appendage they scampered gayly away towards Brussels; James shouting
with laughter, as if it was the best joke he had ever known. When we
began to look about us and think what was best to be done, we discovered
that the Count had taken a French leave of us, or rather a Polish one;
for he had carried off James's cloak and umbrella along with him.

We were now all wet through, our shoes soaked, not a dry stitch on
us,--all except the coachee, who, having taken off a considerable
portion of his wearables, deposited them in the coach, while he ran up
and down the road, wringing his hands, and crying over his misfortune in
a condition that I am bound to say was far more pictorial than decent.
It was in vain that Mrs. D. opened her parasol as the last refuge of
offended modesty. The wind soon converted it into something like a
convolvulus, so that she was fain once more to seek shelter inside the
conveyance, which now lay pensively over on one side, against a muddy
bank.

Such little accidents as these are not uncommon in our own country; but
when they do occur, you are usually within reach of either succor
or shelter. There is at least a house or a cabin within hail of you.
Nothing of the kind was there here. This "Bois de Cambre," as they call
it, is a dense wood of beech or pine trees, intersected here and there
by certain straight roads, without a single inhabitant along the line.
A solitary diligence may pass once in the twenty-four hours, to or
from Wâvre. A Waterloo tourist party is occasionally seen in spring or
summer, but, except these, scarcely a traveller is ever to be met with
along this dreary tract These reassuring facts were communicated to us
by the coachee, while he made his toilet beside the window.

By great persuasions, much eloquence, French and English, and a Napoleon
in gold, our driver at length consented to start on foot for Brussels,
whence he was to send us a conveyance to return to the capital. This
bargain effected, we settled ourselves down to sleep or to grumble, as
fancy or inclination prompted.

I will not weary you with any further narrative of our sufferings, nor
tell of that miserable attempt I made to doze, disturbed by Mrs. D.'s
unceasing lamentations over her ruined bonnet, her shocked feelings,
and her shot-silk. A little before daybreak, an empty furniture-van came
accidentally by, with the driver of which we contracted for our return
to Brussels, where we arrived at nine o'clock this morning, almost as
sad a party as ever fled from Waterloo! I thought I 'd jot down these
few details before I lay down for a sleep, and it is likely that I may
still add a line or two before post-hour.


Monday.

My dear Tom,--We've had our share of trouble since I wrote the last
postscript. Poor James has been "out," and was wounded in the leg, above
the knee. The Frenchman with whom he had a dispute at Hougoumont sent
him a message on Saturday last; but as these affairs abroad are always
greatly discussed and argued before they come off, the meeting did n't
take place till this morning, when they met near Lacken. James's
friend was Lord George Tiverton, Member for Hornby, and son to some
Marquis,--that you'll find out in the "Peerage," for my head is too
confused to remember.

He stood to James like a trump; drove him to the ground in his own
phaeton, lent him his own pistols,--the neatest tools ever I looked at,
I wonder he could miss with them,--and then brought him back here, and
is still with him, sitting at the bedside like a brother. Of course it's
very distressing to us all, and poor James is in terrible pain, for the
leg is swelled up as thick as three, and all blue, and the doctors don't
well know whether they can save it; but it's a grand thing, Tom, to know
that the boy behaved beautifully. Lord G. says: "I've been out something
like six-and-twenty times, principal or second, but I never saw anything
cooler, quieter, or in better taste than young Dodd's conduct." These
are his own words, and let me tell you, Tom, that's high praise from
such a quarter, for the English are great sticklers for a grave,
decorous, cold-blooded kind of fighting, that we don't think so much
about in Ireland. The Frenchman is one Count Roger,--not pronounced
Roger, but Rogee,--and, they say, the surest shot in France. He left
his card to inquire after James, about half an hour ago,--a very
pretty piece of attention, at all events. Mrs. D. and the girls are not
permitted to see James yet, nor would it be quite safe, for the poor
fellow is wandering in his mind. When I came into the room he told Lord
George that I was his uncle! and begged me not to alarm his aunt on any
account!

I can't as yet say how far this unlucky event will interfere with our
plans about moving. Of course, for the present, this is out of the
question; for the surgeon says that, taking the most favorable view of
his case, it will be weeks before J. can leave his bed. To tell you my
mind frankly, I don't think they know much about gunshot wounds abroad;
for I remember when I hit Giles Eyre, the bullet went through his chest
and came out under the bladebone, and Dr. Purden just stopped up the
hole with a pitch-plaster, and gave him a tumbler of weak punch, and he
was about again, as fresh as ever, in a week's time. To be sure, he used
to have a hacking kind of a short cough, and complained of a pain now
and then; but everybody has his infirmities!

I mentioned what Purden did, to Baron Seutin, the surgeon here; but
he called him a barbarian, and said be deserved the galleys for it! I
thought to myself, "It's lucky old Sam does n't hear you, for he's just
the boy would give you an early morning for it!"

I was called away by a message from the Commissary of the Police, who
has sent one of his sergeants to make an inquiry about the duel.

If it was to Roger he went, it would be reasonable enough; but why come
and torment us that have our own troubles? I was obliged to sit quiet
and answer all his questions, giving my Christian name and my wife's,
our ages, what religion we were, if we were really married,--egad, it's
lucky it was n't Mrs. D. was under examination,--what children we had,
their ages and sex,--I thought at one time he was going to ask how many
more we meant to have. Then he took an excursion into our grandfathers
and grandmothers, and at last came back to the present generation and
the shindy.

If it was n't for Lord George, we 'd never have got through the
business; but he translated for me, and helped me greatly,--for what
with the confusion I was in, and the language, and the absurdity of the
whole thing, I lost my temper very often; and now I discover that we
're to have a kind of prosecution against us, though of what kind, or
at whose suit, or why, I can't find out. This will be, therefore, number
three in my list of law-suits here,--not bad, considering that I 'm
scarce as many weeks in the country! I have n't mentioned this to you
before, for I don't like dwelling on it; but it's truth, nevertheless.
I must close this at last, for we have Lord G. to dinner; and I must go
and put Paddy Byrne through his facings, or there 'll be all kinds of
blundering. I wish I'd never brought him with us, nor the jaunting-car.
The young chaps--the dandies here--have a knack of driving, as if down
on us, just to see Mary Anne trying to save her legs; but I 'll come
across them one day with the whip, in a style they won't like. Betty
Cobb, too, was no bargain, and I wish she was back at Dodsborough.

We 're always reading in the newspapers how well the Irish get on out
of Ireland,--how industrious they become, how thrifty, and so on;
don't believe a word of it, Tom. There's Betty, the same lazy,
good-for-nothing, story-telling, complaining, discontented devil ever
she was; and as for Paddy Byrne, his fists have never been out of
somebody's features, except when there were handcuffs on them,--_semper
eadem!_ Tom, as we used to say at Dr. Bell's. Whatever we may be at
home,--and the "Times" won't say much for us there,--it's _there_ we 're
best, after all. The doctors are here again to see James; so that I must
conclude with love to all yours, and Remain ever faithfully your friend,

Kenny I. Dodd.




LETTER VI. MISS MARY AUNE DODD TO MISS DOOLAN, OF BALLYDOOLAN

Dearest Kitty,--What a dreadful fortnight have we passed through! We
thought that poor dear James must have lost his leg; the inflammation
ran so high, and the pain and the fever were so great, that one night
the Baron Seutin actually brought the horrid instruments with him, and
I believe it was Lord George alone persuaded him to defer the operation.
What a dear, kind, affectionate creature he is! He has scarcely ever
left the house since it happened; and although he sits up all night with
James, he seems never tired nor sleepy, but is so full of life all day
long, playing on the piano, and teaching us the mazurka! I should rather
say teaching me, for Cary, bless the mark, has taken a prudish turn, and
says she has no fancy for being pulled about, even by a lord! I may
as well mention here, that there is nothing less like romping than the
mazurka, when danced properly; and so Lord George as much as told her.
He scarcely touches your waist, Kitty; he only "gives you support," as
he says himself, and he never by any chance squeezes your hand, except
when there 's something droll he wants you to remark.

I must say, Kitty, that in Ireland we conceive the most absurd notions
about the aristocracy. Now, here, we have one of the first, the very
first young nobleman of the day actually domesticated with us. For the
entire fortnight he has never been away, and yet we are as much at home
with him, as easy in his presence, and as unconstrained as if it were
your brother Robert, or anybody else of no position. You can form
no idea how entertaining he is, for, as he says himself, "I 've done
everything," and I 'm certain so he has; such a range of knowledge on
every subject,--such a mass of acquaintances! And then he has been all
over the world in his own yacht. It's like listening to the "Arabian
Nights," to hear him talk about the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn; and
I'm sure I never knew how to relish Byron's poetry till I heard Lord
G.'s description of Patras and Salamis. I must tell you, as a great
secret though, that he came, the other evening, in his cloak to the
drawing-room door, to say that James wanted to see me; and when I went
out, there he was in full Albanian dress, the most splendid thing you
ever beheld,--a dark violet velvet jacket all braided with gold, white
linen jupe, like the Scotch kilt, but immensely full,--he said, two
hundred ells wide,--a fez on his head, embroidered sandals, and such a
scimitar! it was a mass of turquoises and rubies. Oh, Kitty! I have no
words to describe him; for, besides all this, he has such eyes, and the
handsomest beard in the world,--not one of those foppish little tufts
they call imperials, nor that grizzly clothes-brush Young France
affects, but a regular "Titian," full, flowing, and squared beneath.
Now, don't let Peter fancy that he ought to get up a "_moyen âge_ look,"
for, between ourselves, these things, which sit so gracefully on my
Lord, would be downright ridiculous in the dispensary doctor; and while
I 'm on the topic, let me say that nothing is so thoroughly Irish as the
habit of imitating, or rather of mimicking, those of stations above our
own. I 'll never forget Peter's putting the kicking-straps on his mare
just because he saw Sir Joseph Vickare drive with them; the consequence
was that the poor beast, who never kicked before, no sooner felt the
unaccustomed encumbrance than she dashed out, and never stopped till she
smashed the gig to atoms. In the same way, I 'm certain that if he
only saw Lord George's dress, which is a kind of black velvet paletot,
braided, and very loose in the sleeves, he'd just follow it, quite
forgetting how inconvenient it might be in what he calls "the surgery."
At all events, Kitty, do not say that I said so. I'm too conscious how
little power I have to serve him, to wish to hurt his feelings.

You could not believe what interest has been felt about James in the
very highest circles here. We were at last obliged to issue a species of
bulletin every morning, and leave it with the porter at the hotel door.
I own to you I thought it did look a little pretentious at first to read
these documents, with the three signatures at the foot; but Lord George
only laughed at my humility, and said that it was "expected from us."
From all this you may gather that poor James's misfortune has not
been unalloyed with benefit. The sympathy--I had almost said the
friendship--of Lord G. is indeed priceless, and I see, from the names of
the inquiries, that our social position has been materially benefited
by the accident. In the little I have seen of the Continent, one thing
strikes me most forcibly. It is that to have any social eminence or
success you must be notorious. I am free to own that in many instances
this is not obtained without considerable sacrifice, but it would seem
imperative. You may be very rich, or very highly connected, or very
beautiful, or very gifted. You may possess some wonderful talent as a
painter or a musician or as a dramatist. You may be the great talker
of dinner-parties,--the wit who never wanted his repartee. A splendid
rider, particularly if a lady, has always her share of admiration.
But apart from these qualities, Kitty, you have only to reckon on
eccentricities, and, I am almost ashamed to write it, on follies.
Chance--I never could call it good fortune, when I think of poor
James--has achieved for us what, in all likelihood, we never could have
accomplished for ourselves, and by a turn of the wheel we wake and
find ourselves famous. I only wish you could see the list of visitors,
beginning with princes, and descending by a sliding scale to barons and
chevaliers; such flourishing of hats, too, as we receive whenever we
drive out! Papa begins to complain that he might as well leave his at
home, as he is perpetually carrying it about in his hand. But for Lord
George, we should never know who one-half of these fine folk were; but
he is acquainted with them all, and such droll histories-as he has of
them would convulse you with laughter to listen to.

I need not say that so long as poor dear James continues to suffer,
we do not accept of any invitation whatever; we just receive a few
intimates--say fifteen or twenty very dear friends--twice a week.
Then it is merely a little music, tea, and perhaps a polka, always
improvised, you understand, and got up without the slightest
forethought. Lord G. is perfect for that kind of thing, and whatever
he does seems to spring so naturally from the impulse of the moment.
Yesterday, however, Just as we were dressing for dinner, papa alone was
in the drawing-room, the servant announced Monsieur le Général Comte de
Vanderdelft, aide-de-camp to the King, and immediately there entered a
very tall and splendidly dressed man, with every order you can think of
on his breast. He saluted pa most courteously, who bowed equally low
in return, and then began something which pa thought was a kind of set
speech, for he spoke so fluently and so long, and with such evident
possession of his subject, that papa felt it must have been all got up
beforehand.

At last he paused, and poor papa, whose French never advanced beyond the
second page of Cobbett's Grammar, uttered his usual "Non comprong," with
a gesture happily more explanatory than the words. The General, deeming,
possibly, that he was called upon for a recapitulation of his discourse,
began it all over again, and was drawing towards the conclusion when
mamma entered. He at once addressed himself to her, but she hastily rang
the bell, and sent for _me_. I, of course, did not lose a moment, but,
arranging my hair in plain bands, came down at once. When I came into
the drawing-room, I saw there was some mystification, for papa was
sitting with his spectacles on, busily hunting out something in the
little Dialogue Book of five languages, and mamma was seated directly
in front of the General, apparently listening to him with the utmost
attention, but as I well knew, from her contracted eyebrows and
pursed-up mouth, only endeavoring to read his sentiments from the
expression of his features. He turned at once towards me as I saluted
him, showing how unmistakably he rejoiced at the sound of his own
language. "I come, Mademoiselle," said he, "on the part of the
King"--and he paused and bowed at the word as solemnly as if he were in
a church. "His Majesty having obtained from the English Legation here
the names of the most distinguished visitors of your countrymen, has
graciously commanded me to wait upon the Honorable Monsieur--" Here he
paused again, and, taking out a slip of paper from his pocket, read the
name--"Dodd. I am right, am I not, Mademoiselle Dodd?" At the mention
of his name, papa bowed, and placed his hand on his waistcoat as if
to confirm his identity; while mamma smiled a bland assent to the
partnership. "To wait upon Monsieur Dodd," resumed the General, "and
invite him and Madame Dodd to be present at the grand ceremony of the
opening of the railroad to Mons." I could scarcely believe my ears,
Kitty, as I listened. The inauguration ceremony has been the stock
theme of the newspapers for the last month. Archbishops and
bishops--cardinals, for aught I know--have been expected, regardless of
expense, to bless everything and everybody, from the sovereign down to
the stokers. The programme included a High Mass, military bands, the
presence of the whole Court, and a grand _déjeuner_. To have been deemed
worthy of an invitation to such a festival was a very legitimate reason
for pride. "I have not his Majesty's commands, Mademoiselle," said the
General, "to include you in the invitation; but as the King is always
pleased to see his Court distinguished by beauty, I may safely
promise that you will receive a card within the course of this day or
to-morrow." I suppose I must have looked very grateful, for the
General dropped his eyes, placed his band on his heart, and said, "Oh,
Mademoiselle!" in a tone of voice the most touching you can conceive. I
believe, from watching my emotion, and the General's acknowledgment of
it, mamma had arrived at the conclusion that the General had come
to propose for me. Indeed, I am convinced, Kitty, that such was the
impression on her mind, for she whispered in my ear, "Tell him, Mary
Anne, that he must speak to papa first." This suggestion at
once recalled me to myself, and I explained what he had come
for,--apologizing, of course, to the General for having to speak in a
foreign language before him. I am certain mamma's satisfaction at the
royal invitation totally obliterated any disappointment she might have
felt from baffled expectations, and she courtesied and smiled, and papa
bowed and simpered so much, that I felt quite relieved when the General
withdrew,--having previously kissed ma's hand and mine, with an air of
respectful homage only acquired in Courts.

Perhaps this scene did not occupy more space than I have taken to
describe it, and yet, Kitty, it seems to me as though we had been
inhaling the atmosphere that surrounds royalty for a length of time!
From my revery on this theme I was aroused by a lively controversy
between papa and mamma.

"Egad!" says papa, "Pummistone's blunder has done us good service. They
've surely taken us for something very distinguished. Look out, Mary
Anne, and see if there 's any Dodds in the peerage."

"Fudge!" cried mamma; "there's no blunder whatever in the case! We
are beginning to be known, that's all; nor is there anything very
astonishing in the fact, seeing that King Leopold is the uncle to our
own Queen. I should like to know what is there more natural than that we
should receive attention from his Court?"

"Maybe it's James's accident," muttered papa.

"It's no such thing, I'm certain," replied mamma, angrily, "and it's
downright meanness to impute to a mere casualty what is the legitimate
consequence of our position."

Now, Kitty, whenever mamma uses the word "position," she has generally
come to the end of her ammunition, which is of the less consequence
that she usually contrives with this last shot to explode the enemy's
magazine, and blow him clean out of the water! Papa knows this so well,
that the moment he hears it, he takes to the long boat, or, to drop
the use of metaphor, he seizes his hat and decamps; which he did on the
present occasion, leaving ma and myself in the field.

"A Dodd indeed, in the peerage!" said she, contemptuously; "I 'd like
to know where you 'd find it! If it was a M'Carthy, there would be some
difference; M'Carthy More slew Shawn Bhuy na Tiernian in the year ten
thousand and six, and was hanged for it at his own gate, in a rope of
silk of the family colors, green and white; and I 'd like to know where
were the Dodds then? But it's the way with your father always, Mary
Anne; he quite forgets the family he married into."

Though this was somewhat of unjust reproach, Kitty, I did not reply to
it, but turned ma's attention to the King's gracious message, and the
approaching _dejeuner_. We agreed that as Cary would n't and indeed
could n't go, that ma and I should dress precisely alike, with our hair
in bands in front, with two long curls behind the ears, white tarletan
dresses, three jupes, looped up with marigolds; the only distinction
being that ma should wear her carbuncles, and I nothing but moss-roses.
It sounds very simple costume, Kitty, but Mademoiselle Adèle has such
taste we felt we might rely upon its not being too plain. Papa, of
course, would wear his yeomanry uniform, which is really very neat, the
only ungraceful part being the white shorts and black gaiters to the
knee; and these he insists on adhering to, as well as the helmet, which
looks exactly like a gigantic caterpillar crawling over a coal-box!
However, it's military; and abroad, my dearest Kitty, if not a soldier,
you are nothing. The English are so well aware of this that not one of
them would venture to present himself at a foreign court in that absurd
travesty of footmen called the "corbeau" coat. Even the lawyers
and doctors, the newspaper editors, the railroad people, the civil
engineers, and the solicitors, all come out as Yorkshire Hussars,
Gloucestershire Fencibles, Hants Rifles, or Royal Archers; these last,
very picturesque, with kilt, filibeg, and dirk, much handsomer than any
other Highland regiment! We also discussed a little plot about making pa
wear a coronation-medal, which would pass admirably as an "order," and
procure him great respect and deference amongst the foreigners; but
this, I may as well mention here, he most obstinately rejected, and
swore at last that if we persisted, he 'd have his commission as a
justice of the peace fixed on a pole, and carry it like a banner before
him. Of course, in presence of such a threat, we gave up our project.
You may smile, Kitty, at my recording such trivial circumstances; but of
such is life. We are ourselves but atoms, dearest, and all around us are
no more! As eagerly as _we_ strive upwards, so determinedly does
_he_ drag us down to earth again, and ma's noblest ambitions are ever
threatened by papa's inglorious tastes and inclinations.

I 'm so full of this delightful _fête_ my dear Kitty, that I can think
of nothing else; nor, indeed, are my thoughts very collected even on
that,--for that wild creature, Lord George, is thumping the piano,
imitating all the opera people, and occasionally waltzing about the room
in a manner that would distract any human head to listen to! He has just
been tormenting me to tell him what I 'm saying to you, and bade me tell
you that he 's dying to make your acquaintance; so you see, dearest,
that he has heard of those deep-blue eyes and long-fringed lids that
have done such marvels in our western latitudes! It is really no use
trying to continue. He is performing what he calls a "Grand March,
with a full orchestral accompaniment," and there is a crowd actually
assembling in front of the house. I had something to say, however, if I
could only remember it.

I have just recalled what I wanted to mention. It is this: P. B. is most
unjust, most ungenerous. Living, as he does, remote from the world and
its exciting cares, he can form no conception of what is required from
those who mingle in its pleasures, and, alas! partake of its trials! To
censure me for the sacrifices I am making to that world, Kitty, is then
great injustice. I feel that he knows nothing of these things! What knew
I myself of them till within a few weeks back! Tell him so, dearest.
Tell him, besides, that I am ever the same, save in that expansion of
the soul which comes of enlarged views of life,--more exalted notions
and more ennobling emotions! When I think of what I was, Kitty, and
of what I am, I may indeed shudder at the perils of the present, but I
blush deeply for the past! Of course you will not permit him to think
of coming abroad; "settling as a doctor," as he calls it, "on the
Continent," is too horrid to be thought of! Are you aware, Kitty, what
place the lawyer and the physician occupy socially here? Something
lower than the courier, and a little higher than the cook! Two or three,
perhaps, in every capital city are received in society, wear decent
clothes, and wash their hands occasionally, but there it ends! and
even they are only admitted on sufferance, and as it were by a tacit
acknowledgment of the uncertainty of human life, and that it is good to
have a "learned leech" within call. Shall I avow it, Kitty, I think they
are right! It is, unquestionably, a gross anomaly to see everlastingly
around one in the gay world those terrible remembrancers of dark hours
and gloomy scenes. We do not scatter wills and deeds and settlements
amongst the prints and drawings and light literature of our drawing-room
tables, nor do we permit physic-bottles to elbow the odors and essences
which deck our "consoles" and chimney-pieces; and why should we admit
the incarnation of these odious objects to mar the picturesque elegance
of our _salons?_ No, Kitty; they may figure upon a darker canvas,
but they would ill become the gorgeous light that illumines the grand
"tableau" of high life! Peter, too, would be quite unsuited to the
habits of the Continent Wrapped up as he is in his profession, he
never could attain to that charming negligence of manner, that graceful
trifling, that most insinuating languor, which distinguish the well-bred
abroad. If they fail to captivate, Kitty, they at least never wound your
susceptibilities, nor hurt your prejudices. The delightful maxim that
pronounces "Tous les goûts sont respectables," is the keystone of this
system. No, no, Peter must not come abroad!

Let me not forget to congratulate you on Robert's success. What is it
he has gained? for I could not explain to Lord George whether he is a
"double first" or a something else.

You are quite mistaken, my dear friend, about lace. It is fully as
dear here as with us. At the same time I must say we never do see real
"Brussels point" in Ireland; for even the Castle folk are satisfied with
showing you nothing but their cast-off London finery; and as to lace,
it is all what they call here "application,"--that is, the flowers and
tracery are worked in upon common net, and are not part of the fabric,
as in real "point de Bruxelles." After all, even this is as superior
to "Limerick lace" as a foreign ambassador is, in manner, to a Dublin
alderman.

I should like to keep this over till the _dejeuner_ at Mons; but as it
goes by "the Messenger,"--Lord Gledworth having given pa the privilege
of the "bag,"--I cannot longer defer writing myself my dearest Kitty's
most attached friend,

Mary Anne Dodd.

I open my letter to send you the last bulletin about James:--

     "Monsieur James Dodd has passed a tranquil night, and is
     proceeding favorably. The wound exhibits a good appearance,
     and the general fever is slight

     (Signed)          "Baron De Seutin.

     "El'stache De Mornaye, Méd. du Roi. "Samuel Mossin,
     M.R.C.S.L."

We 're in another mess with that wretch Paddy Byrne. The gendarmes are
now in the house to inquire after him. It would seem that he has beaten
a whole hackney-coach stand, and set the vehicles and horses off full
speed down the "Montagne de la Cour," one of the steepest streets in
Europe. When will papa see it would be cheaper to send him home by a
special steamer than to keep him here and pay for all his "escapades"?

Paddy, who got on to the roof to escape the police, has just fallen
through a skylight, and has been conveyed to hospital, terribly injured.
He fell upon an old gentleman of eighty-two, who says he will look to
papa for compensation. The tumult the affair has caused is dreadful, and
pa is like a madman.

The General Count Vanderdelft has come back to say that I am invited.




LETTER VII. MRS. DODD TO MISTRESS MARY GALLAGHER, DODSBOROUGH.

Dear Molly,--I scarcely have courage to take up my pen, and, maybe, if
it was n't that I 'm driven to the necessity of writing, I could n't
bring myself to the effort. You have already heard all about poor dear
James's duel. It was in the "Post" and "Galignani," and got copied into
the French papers; and, indeed, I must say that so far as notoriety
goes, it was all very gratifying to our feelings, though the poor boy
has had to pay dearly for the honor. His sufferings were very great, and
for ten days he did n't know one of us; even to this time he constantly
calls me his aunt! He's now out of danger at last, and able to sit up
for a few hours every day, and take a little sustenance, and hear the
papers read, and see the names of the people that have called to ask
after him; and a proud list it is,--dukes, counts, and barons without
end!

This, of course, is all very pleasing, and no one is more ready to
confess it than myself; but life is nothing but trials, Molly; you 're
up to-day, and you 're down tomorrow; and maybe 'tis when you think the
road is smoothest and best, and that your load is lightest, 't is just
at that very moment you see yourself harnessed between the "shafts of
adversity." We never think of these things when all goes well with us;
but what a shock we feel when the hand of fate turns the tables on us,
with, maybe, the scarlatina or the sheep-rot, the smut in the wheat, or
a stain on your reputation! When I wrote last, I mentioned to you the
high station we were in, the elegant acquaintances we made, and the
fine prospect before us; but I 'm not sure you got my letter, for the
gentleman that took charge of it thought of going home by Norway, so
that perhaps it has not reached you. It's little matter; maybe 't is all
the better, indeed, if it never does come to hand! The last three weeks
has been nothing but troubles; and as for expense, Molly, the money goes
in a way I never witnessed before, though, if you knew all the shifts I
'm put to, you 'd pity me, and the sacrifices I make to keep our heads
above water would drown you in tears.

I don't know where to begin with our misfortunes, though I believe the
first of them was Wednesday week last. You must know, Molly, that we
were invited by the King, who sent his own aide-de-camp, in full fig,
with crosses and orders all over him, to ask us to a breakfast, or, as
they call it, a _déjeûner_, in honor of the opening of a new railroad at
Mons. It was, as you may believe, a very great honor to pay us, nothing
being invited but the very first families,--the embassies and the
ministers; and we certainly felt it well became us not to disgrace
either the country we came from or the proud distinction of his Majesty;
and so Mary and I had two new dresses made just the same, like
sisters, very simple, but elegant, Molly,--a light stuff that cost
only two-and-five a yard, thirty-two yards of which would make the two,
leaving me a breadth more in the skirt than Mary Anne,--the whole
not coming to quite four pounds, without the making. That was our
calculation, Molly, and we put it down on paper; for K. I. insists on
our paying for everything when it comes home, as he is always saying,
"We never know how suddenly we may have to leave this place yet."

Low as the price was, it took a day and a half before he gave in. He
stormed and swore about all the expenses of the family,--that there
was no end of our extravagant habits, and what with hairdressers,
dancing-masters, and doctors, it cost five-and-twenty pounds in a week.

"And if it did, K. I.," said I,--"if it did, is four pounds too much to
spend on the dress of your wife and daughter, when they 're invited to
Court? If you can squander in handfuls on your pleasures, can you spare
nothing for the wants of your family?"

I reminded him who _he_ was and _I_ was. I let him know what was the
stock I came from, and what we were used to, Molly; and, indeed,
I believe he 'd rather than double the money not have provoked the
discussion.

The end of it was, we carried the day; and early on Wednesday morning
the two dresses came home; Mademoiselle Adèle herself coming with them
to try them on. I have n't words to tell you how mine fitted; if it was
made on me, it could n't be better. I need n't say more of the general
effect than that Betty--and you know she is no flatterer--called me
nothing but "miss" till I took it off. Conscious of how it became me,
I too readily listened to her suggestion to "go and show it to the
master," and accordingly walked into the room where he was seated
reading the newspaper.

[Illustration: 090]

"Ain't you afraid of catching cold?" says he, dryly.

"Why so?" replied I.

"Had n't you better put on your gown, going about the passages?" says
he, in a cross kind of way.

"What do you mean, K. I.? Is not this my gown?"

"That!" cried he, throwing down the newspaper on the floor. "_That!_"

"And why not, pray, Mister Dodd?"

"Why not?" exclaimed he; "because you're half-naked, madam,--because
it would n't do for a bathing-dress,--because the Queen of the Tonga
Islands would n't go out in it."

"If my dress is not high enough for your taste, K. I., maybe the bill
is," says I, throwing down the paper on the table, and sweeping out of
the room. Oh, Molly, little I knew the words I was saying, for I never
had opened the bill at all, contenting myself with Mademoiselle Adèle's
promise that making would be a "bagatelle of some fifteen or twenty
francs!" What do you think it came to? Eight hundred and thirty-three
francs five sous. Thirty-three pounds six and tenpence-half penny! as
sure as I write these lines. I was taken with the nerves,--just as I
used to be long ago,--screeching and laughing and crying altogether,
when I heard it; and the attack lasted two hours, and left me very weak
and exhausted after it was over. Oh, Molly dear, what a morning it was!
for what with ether and curacoa, strong sherry and aniseed cordial,
my head was splitting; and Betty ran downstairs into the _table-d'hôte_
room, and said that "the master was going to murder the mistress," and
brought up a crowd of gentlemen after her. K. I. was holding my hands
at the time, for they say that I wanted to make at Mademoiselle Adèle
to tear her eyes out; so that, naturally enough, perhaps, they believed
Betty's story; however that might be, they rushed in a body at K. I.,
who, quitting hold of me, seized the poker. I need n't tell you what he
is like when in a passion! I 'm told the scene was awful; for they all
made for the stairs together,--K. I. after them! The appearance of the
place afterwards may give you some notion of what it witnessed: all the
orange-trees in the tubs thrown down, two lamps smashed, the bust of
the King and Queen on the landing in shivers, several of the banisters
broken; while tufts of hair, buttons, and bits of cloth were strewn
about on all sides. The head-waiter is wearing a patch over his eye
still, and the Swiss porter, one of the biggest men I ever saw, has cut
his face fearfully by a fall into a glass globe with gold-fish. It was
a costly morning's work, Molly! and if twenty pounds sees us through it,
we 're lucky! Mr. Profiles, too, the landlord, came up to request we 'd
leave the hotel; that there was nothing but rows and disturbances in the
house since we entered it; and much more of the same sort. K. I.
flared up at this, and they abused each other for an hour. This is very
unfortunate, for I hear that P. is a baron, and a great friend of the
King; for abroad, Molly dear, the nobles are not above anything, and
sell cigars, and show the town to strangers to turn a penny, without
any one thinking the worse of them! All this, as you may suppose, was a
blessed preparation for the Court breakfast; but yet, by two o'clock
we got away, and reached the Allée Verte, when we heard that all the
special trains were already off, and had to take our places in the
common conveyances meant for the public, and, worse again, to be
separated from K. I., who had to go into a third-class, while Mary Anne
and I were in a second. There we were, dressed up in full style in the
noonday, with bare necks and arms, in a crowd of bagmen, officers, and
clerks, who, you may be sure, had their own thoughts about us; and,
indeed, there's no saying what they might n't have done as well as
thought, if K. I. did n't come to the window every time we stopped,
with a big stick in his hand, and by a very significant gesture gave
the company to comprehend that he 'd make mince veal of the man that
molested us.

You may think, Molly, of what a two hours we spent, for the women in the
train were worse than the men; and although I did not understand what
they said, their looks were quite intelligible; but I have not patience
to tell you more. We reached Mons at four o'clock; a great part of
the ceremony was over. The High Mass and Benediction pronounced by
the Cardinal of M alines; the rail was blessed; and the deputation
had addressed the King, and his Majesty had replied, and all kinds of
congratulations were exchanged, orders and crosses given to everybody,
from the surveyors to the stokers, and now the procession was forming to
the royal pavilion, where there were tables laid out for eight hundred
people.

K. I.'s scarlet uniform, though a little the worse for wear, and so
tight in the waist that the last three buttons were left unfastened,
procured him immediate respect, and we passed through sentries and
patrols as if we were royalty itself; indeed, the military presented
arms to K. I. at every step, and such clinking of muskets and bayonets I
never heard before.

All this time, Molly, we were going straight on, without knowing where
to; for K. I. said to me in a whisper, "Let us put a bold face on it, or
they 'll ask us for tickets or something of the kind;" and so we went,
hoping every moment to see our friend the Count, who would take us under
his protection. If it was n't for our own anxieties, the scene would
have amused us greatly, for there was all manner of elegant females, and
men in fine uniforms, and the greatest display of jewels I ever saw; but
for all that, we were getting uneasy, for we saw that they each carried
cards in their hands, and that the official came and asked for them as
they passed on.

"We 'll be in a nice way if Vanderdelft does n't turn up," says K.
I.; and as he said it, there was the General himself beside us. He was
greatly heated, as if he had been running or walking fast, and, although
dressed in full uniform, his stock was loose, and his cocked-hat was
without the feather. "I was afraid I should have missed you," said he,
in a hurried voice to Mary Anne, "and I 'm half-killed running about
after you. Where's the Queen-Mother?" This was n't very ceremonious, my
dear, but I did n't know what he said at the time; indeed, he spoke
so fast, it was all Mary Anne could do to follow him! for he talked of
everything and everybody in a breath. "We 've not a minute to lose,"
cried he, drawing Mary Anne's arm inside his own. "If Leopold once sits
down to table, I can't present you. Come along, and I 'll get you a good
place."

How we pierced the crowd the saints alone can tell! but the General went
at them in a way of his own, and they fell back as they saw him coming,
in a style that made us think we had no common guide to conduct us. At
last, by dint of crushing, driving, and pushing everybody out of our
way, we reached a kind of barrier, where two fine-looking men in blue
and gold were taking the tickets. As Mary Anne and the General were in
advance of us, I did n't see what happened first; but when we came
up, we found Vanderdelft in a flaring passion, and crying out, "These
scullions don't know me; this canaille never heard of my name?"

[Illustration: 094]

"We're in a mess, Mrs. D.," said K. I. to me, in a whisper.

"How can that be?" said I.

"We 're in a mess," says he, again, "and a pretty mess, too, or I 'm
mistaken;" but he had n't time for more, for just then the General
kicked up the bar with his foot, and passed in with Mary Anne,
flourishing his drawn sword in the air, and crying out, "Take them in
flank--sabre them, every man--no prisoners!--no quarter!" Oh, Molly, I
can't continue, though I 'll never forget the scene that followed. Two
big men in gray coats burst through the crowd and laid hands on the
General, who, it seems, had made his escape out of a madhouse at Ghent
a week before, and was, as they said, the most dangerous lunatic in all
Belgium. It appeared that he had gone down to his own country-house near
Brussels, and stolen his uniform and his orders, for he was once on
a time aide-de-camp to the Prince of Orange, and went mad after the
Revolution.

Just think of our situation as we stood there, among all the nobles and
grandees, suffocated with laughter; for, as they tore the poor General
away, he cried out "to take care of the Queen-Mother, and to be sure and
get something to eat for the Aga of the Janissaries," meaning K. I.!

The mob at this time began screeching and hooting, and there's
no knowing how it might have ended, if it was n't for the little
Captain--Morris is his name--that was once quartered at Bruff, and who
happened to be there, and knew us, and he came up and explained who we
were, and got us away to a coach, more dead than alive, Molly.

And so we got back to Brussels that night, in a state of mind and body I
leave you to imagine, K. I. abusing us all the way about the milliner's
bill, the expense of the trip, and the exposure! "It's clear," says he,
"we may leave this city now, for you 'll never recover what you call
your 'position' here, after this day's exploit!" You may conceive how
humbled and broken I was when he dared to say that to me, Molly, and I
did n't so much as give him a word back!

You 'll see from this that life is n't all roses with us; and indeed,
for the last two days I 've done nothing but cry, and Mary Anne the
same; for how we're ever to go to court and be presented now, nobody can
tell! Morris advises K. I. to go into Germany for the summer, and maybe
he is right; but, to tell you the truth, Molly, I can't bear that little
man,--he has a dry, sneering kind of way with him that is odious to me.
Mary Anne, too, hates him.

So Father Maher won't buy "Judy," because she's not in calf. It's just
like him,--he must have everything in this life his own way! Send me the
price of the wool by Purcell; he can get a post-bill for it; and be sure
to dispose of the fruit to the best advantage. Don't make any jam this
year, for I 'd rather have the money than be spending it on sugar. You
'd not believe the straits I 'm put to for a pound or two. It was only
last week I sold four pair of K. I.'s drab shorts and gaiters, and a
brown surtout, to a hawker for a trifle of fifteen francs, and persuaded
him they were stolen out of his drawers! and I believe he has spent
nearly double the money in handbills, offering a reward for the
thief! That's the fruits of his want of confidence, and the secret and
mysterious way he behaves to me! Many 's the time I told him that his
underhand tricks cost him half his income!

I tell him every day it's "no use to be here if we don't live in a
certain style;" and then he says, "I'm quite ready to go back, Mrs. D.
It was never my will that we came here at all." And there he is right,
for it's just Ireland he's fit for! Father Maher and Tom Purcell and Sam
Davis are exactly the company to suit him; but it's very hard that me
and the girls are to suffer for his low tastes!

The "Evening Mail," I see, puts Dodsborough down at the bottom of a
column, as if it was Holloway's Ointment. That's what we get by having
dealings with an Orange newspaper. They could murder us,--that's their
feeling. They know in their hearts that they 're heretics, and they hate
the True Church. There is nothing I detest so much as bigotry. Go to
heaven _your own_ way, and let the Protestants go to the other place
_theirs_. Them's my sentiments, Molly, and I believe they're the
sentiments of a good Christian!

I 'm sorry for Peter Belton, but what business has he to think of a girl
like Mary Anne? If Dr. Cavanagh was dead himself, the whole practice
of the country would n't be three hundred a year. Try and get an
opportunity to tell him what I think, and say that he ought to look out
for one of the Davises; though what a dispensary doctor wants with a
wife the Lord only knows! K. I. civilly says he ought to be content
making blisters for the neighbors, without wanting one on his own back!
That's the way he talks of women. Father Maher never sent me the lines
for Betty Cobb, and maybe I 'll be driven to have her cursed by a
foreign priest after all. She and Paddy are the torment of our lives.
I saved up five pounds to send them both back by a sailing-ship, but by
good luck I discovered the vessel was going to Cuba instead of Cork, and
so here they are still; maybe it would have been better if I had sent
them off, though the way was something of a roundabout. There's no use
in my speaking to K. I. about Christy, for he can get nothing for James.
We may write to Vickars every week, but he never answers; he knows
Parliament won't be dissolved soon, and he does n't mind us. If I 'd my
will, there would be a general election every year, at least, and then
we'd have a chance of getting something. I don't know which is worst,
the Whigs or the Tories, nor is there much difference between them. K.
I. supported each of them in turn, and never got bit nor sup from one or
other, yet!

I was sounding K. I. about Christy last night, and _he_ thinks you ought
to send him to the gold diggings; he wants nothing but a pickaxe and a
tin cullender and a pair of waterproof boots, to make a fortune there;
and that's more than we can say of the County Limerick. There's nothing
so hard to provide for as a boy in these times, except a girl!

The trunks have not arrived yet: I hope you despatched them.

Your attached and sincere friend,




LETTER VIII. BETTY COBB TO MRS. SHUSAN O'SHEA, PRIEST'S HOUSE, BRUFF

Dear Misses Shusan,--This comes with my heart's sorrow that I'm not at
home where I was bred and born, but livin' abroad like a pelican on a
dissolute island, more by token that I never wanted to come, but was
persuaded by them that knew nothin' about what they wor talking; but
thought it was all figs and lemons and raisins, with green pays and the
sun in season all the year round; but, on the contrahery, sich rain and
wind I never seen afore; and as for the eating, the saints forgive me if
it's not true, but I b'leve I ate more rats since I 've come, than ever
ould Tib did since she was kittened. The drinkin' 's as bad or worse.
What they call wine is spoilt vinegar; and the vegables has no bone nor
eatin' in them at all, but melts away in the mouth like butter in July.
But 't is the wickedness is the worst of all. O Shusan! but the men is
bad, and the women worse. Of all the devils ever I heerd of, they bate
them: 'T is n't a quiet walk to mass on Sunday, with maybe a decent boy
beside you, discoorsin' or the like, and then sitting under a hedge for
the evening, with your apron afore you, talkin' about the praties, or
the price of pigs, or maybe the polis; but here 'tis dancin' and rompin'
and eatin', with merry-go-rounds, swing-swongs, and skittles all the day
long. The dancin' 's dreadful! they don't stand up fornent other, like
a jig, where anything of a dacent partner would n't so much as look hard
at you, but keep minding his steps and humorin' the tune; but they catch
each other round the waist--'tis true I am saying--and go huggin' and
tearin' about like mad, till they can't breathe nor spake; and then, the
noise! for 'tis n't one fiddle they have, but maybe twenty, with horns
and flutes and a murderin' big brown tube, that a man blows into at one
side, that makes a sound like the sea among the rocks at Kelper; and
that's dancin', my dear! I got lave from the mistress last Sunday to go
out in the evening with Mr. Francis, the currier, as they call him,--a
mighty nice man, but a little free in his manners; and we went to the
Moelenbeck Gardens, an iligant place, no doubt, with a hundred little
tables under the trees, and a flure for dancin' and fireworks and a
boat on a lake, with an island in it, where there was a hermit,--a
fine-looking ould man, with a beard down to his waist, but, for all
that, no better than he ought to be, for he made an offer to kiss me
when I was going into the boat, and Mr. Francis laughed at me bekase
I was angry. No matter, we went off to a place they call the Temple of
Bakis, where there was a fat man, as I thought, stark nakit; but it was
flesh-colored web he had on, and he was settin' on a beer-barrel, with a
wreath of roses round his head, and looking as drunk as ever I seen;
and for half a franc apiece, Bakis pulled out the spiget, and gave you a
glassful of the nicest drink ever was tasted,--warm wine, with nutmeg
in it, and cloves, and a taste of mint. I was afeerd to do more nor sup,
seein' the place and the croud; but indeed, Shusan, little as I took, it
got into my head; and I sat down on the steps of the Temple, and begun
to cry about home and Dodsborough; and something came over me that Mr.
Francis did n't mane well; and so I told everybody that I was a poor
Irish girl, and that he was a wicked blaguard; and then the polis came,
and there was a shindy! I don't know how far my head was wrong all the
time; and they said that I sung the "Croniawn Dhubh;" maybe I did; but I
know that I bate off the polis; and at last they took me away home, when
every stitch on me was in ribbins; my iligant bonnet with the green bows
as flat as a halfpeny; and the bombazine the mistress gave me, all rags;
one of my shoes, too, was lost; and except a handful of hair I tore out
of the corporal's beard, 'twas all loss to me.

[Illustration: 100]

This wasn't the worst; for little Paddy Byrne, that was in bed for a
baiting he got 'mong the hackney-coachmen, jumped up and flew at Mister
Francis for the honor of ould Ireland; and they fit for twenty minutes
in the pantry, and broke every bit of glass and chaney in the house,
forbye three lamps and some alybastard figures that was put there for
safety; and the end of it was, Mr. Francis was discharged, but would n't
take his wages, if the master did n't pay him half a year in advance,
with diet and washing, and his expenses home to Swisserland, wherever
that is; and there it is now, and master is in a law-shute, that
everybody says will go agin him; for there's one good thing abroad,
Shusan dear, the coorts stands by poor sarvants, and won't see them
wronged by any cruel masters; and maybe it would be taching ould Mister
Dodd something, if they made him smart for this!

Ye may think, from all this, that I 'd be glad to be back again, and
so it is. I cry all day and night, and sorrow stich I do for either the
mistress or the young ladies, and maybe at last they 'll see 't is best
to send me home. They needn't begrudge me the thrifle 'twould cost, for
they're spending money like mad; and even the mistress, that would skin
a flay in Ireland, thinks nothing of layin' out ten or fifteen pounds
here of a day. Miss Mary Anne is as bad as the mother, and grown so
proud and stand off that I never spake to her. Miss Caroline is what she
used to be, barrin' the spirits; to be sure, she has no divarsion and no
horse to ride, nor doesn't be out in the fields as she used, but for all
that she bears it better than myself. Mister James is grown a young mau
in three weeks, and never passes me on the stair without a wink or a
look of the same kind; that's the way the Continent taches good manners!
Mrs. Shusan! oh dear! oh dear! but 'tis wishing it I am, the day I come
on this incontential tour. If I can't get back,--though it's not my
fault if I don't,--send me the pair of strong shoes you 'll find in my
hair trunk, and the two petticoats in the corner. If you could get a
blade in the big scissors, send it too, and the two bits of dimity I
want for mendin'. There was some Dandy Lion in a paper, I'd like; for
there's none here, they say, has strength in it. You 'll be able to send
me these by somebody coming this way, for I heerd mistress say everybody
is travellin' these times. What was it Father Tom used to take for the
redness in his nose? mine is tormentin' me dreadful, and though I'm
poulticin' it every night with ash-bark, earthworms, and dragon's blood,
I think it's only worse it's gettin'. Mr. Francis said that I must larn
to sleep with my nose higher than my head, though how I'm to do it, the
saints alone can tell! No time for more than to say your loving friend,

Betty Cobb.




LETTER IX. KENNY DODD TO THOMAS PURCELL, ESQ.

BELLEVUE, BRUSSELS.

Dear Tom,--It 's no use in talking; I can't go over to Ireland now, and
you know that as well as myself. Besides, what 's the good of me taking
a part in the elections? Who can tell which side will be uppermost,
after all? And if one is "to enter, it's as well to ride the winning
horse." Vickars has behaved so badly that I don't think I'd support him;
but there's a fortnight yet before the elections, and perhaps he may see
the errors of his ways before that!

I 've little heart or spirits for politics, for my life is fairly
bothered out of me with domestic troubles. James is going on very
slowly. There was a bit of glove-leather round the ball--a most
inexcusable negligence on the part of his second--that has given much
uneasiness; and he has a kind of night fever that keeps him low and
weak. With that, too, he has too many doctors. Three of them come every
morning, and never go away without a dispute.

It strikes me forcibly, Tom, that medical science is one of the things
that makes little progress, considering all the advantages of our
century. I don't mean to say that they don't know better what's inside
of you, what your bones are made of, that they have n't more hard names
for everything than formerly; but that when it comes to cure you of a
toothache, or a colic, or a fit of the gout, my sure belief is they made
just as good a hand of it two hundred years ago. I won't deny that they
'll whip off your leg, tie one of your arteries, or take your hip out
of the socket quicker than they used long ago; but how few of us, thank
God, have need of that kind of skill! and if we have, what signifies a
quarter of a minute more or less? Tim Hackett, that was surgeon to our
County Infirmary forty years, never used any other tools than an old
razor and a pair of pincers, and I believe he was just as successful as
Astley Cooper; and yet these fellows that come to see James cover
the table every day with instruments that would puzzle the Royal
Society,--things like patent corkscrews, scissors with teeth like a saw,
and one little crankum for all the world like a landing-net: James is
more afraid of that than all the rest When I saw it first, I thought it
was a new contrivance for taking the fees in. The Pharmacopoeia--I hope
I spell it right--is greater, to be sure, than long ago, but what's the
advantage of that? We never discover a new kind of beast for food, and
I see little benefit in multiplying what only disgusts you. 'T is
with medicine as with law, Tom; the more precedents we have, the more
confused we get; and where our ignorant ancestors saw their way clearly,
we, with all our enlightenment, never can hit on the right track at all.
The mill-owner and the engineer, the tanner, the dyer, the printer,
ay, even the fanner, picks up something every day that helps him in
his craft. It's only the learned professions that never learn anything;
maybe that's how they got the name "lucus à non," Tom, as Dr. Bell would
say.

You keep preaching to me about economy and making "both ends meet," and
all that kind of balderdash; and if you only saw the way we 're living,
you 'd be surprised at our cheapness. Whenever a five-pound note sees
me through our bill for the day, I give myself a bottle of champagne at
night out of gratitude! You remember all Mrs D.'s promises about thrift
and saving; and, faith, I must say that so far as cutting "down the
estimates" for the rest of the family, she 's worthy of the Manchester
school; but whenever it touches herself, her liberality becomes
boundless.

I believe it would be cheaper to give the milliner a room in the house
than pay her coach-hire, for she 's here every morning, and generally
in my room when I 'm shaving, sometimes before I 'm up. Not that this
trifling circumstance ever disconcerted her. On my conscience, I believe
she 'd have taken Eve's measure before Adam, without a blush at the
situation! So far as I have seen of foreign life, Tom, shamelessness
is the grand characteristic, and I grieve to say that one picks up the
indecency much easier than the irregular verbs. I wish, however, I had
nothing to complain of but this.

I told you in one of my late letters that I was getting into law here;
the plot is thickening since that, and I have now, I believe, four
actions--I hope it is not five--pending in four different courts; in
some I 'm the plaintiff, in some the defendant, and in another I 'm
something between the two; but what that may be, or what consequences
it entails, I know as much as I do about calculating the next eclipse!
Indeed, to distinguish between the several suits and the advocates I
have engaged is no small difficulty, and a considerable part of every
conference is occupied with purely introductory matter. These foreign
lawyers have a mysterious kind of way with them, too, that always gives
you the impression that a law-suit is something like the Gunpowder Plot!
There's a fellow comes to me every morning for instructions, as he calls
it, muffled up in a great cloak, and using as many precautions
against being seen by the servants as if he were going to blow up the
Government. I 'd not be so sensitive on the subject, if it had n't
provoked a species of annoyance, at which, perhaps, you 'll be more
disposed to laugh than sympathize.

For the last week Mrs. D. has adopted a kind of warfare at which she,
I 'll be bound to say, has few equals and no superior,--a species of
irregular attack, at all times and on all subjects, by innuendo and
insinuation, so dexterously thrown out as to defy opposition; for you
might as well take your musket to keep off the mosquitoes! What she was
driving at I never could guess, for the assault came on every flank,
and in all manner of ways. If I was dressed a little more carefully than
usual, she called attention to my "smartness;" if less so, she hinted
that I was probably going out "on the sly." If I stayed at home, I was
"waiting for somebody;" if I went out, it was to "meet them." But
all this guerilla warfare gave way at last to a grand attack, when I
ventured to remonstrate about some extravagance or other. "It came well
from _me_," she burst forth, with indignant anger,--"it came well from
_me_ to talk of the little necessary expenses of the family,--the bit
they ate, and the clothes on their backs." She spoke as if they were
Mandans or Iraquois, and lived in a wigwam! "It came well from me,
living the life I did, to grudge them the commonest requirements
of decency!" "Living the life I did!" I avow to you, Tom, the words
staggered me. Warren Hastings tells us that when Burke concluded his
terrible invective, that he actually sat for five minutes overwhelmed
with a sense of guilt; and so stunning was this charge that it took me
full double as long to rally! for though Mrs. D.'s eloquence may not
possess all the splendor or sublimity of the great Edmund, there is a
homely significance, a kind of natural impressiveness, about it not to
be despised. "Living the life I did," rang in my ears like the words of
a judge in a charge. It sounded like--"Kenny Dodd, you have been fairly
convicted by an honest and impartial jury!" and I confess I sat there
expecting to hear "the last sentence of the law." It was only after some
interval I was able to ask myself, "what was really the kind of life I
had been leading." My memory assured me it was a very stupid, tiresome
existence,--very good-for-nothing and un instructive. It was by no
means, however, one of flagrant vice or any outrageous wickedness; and I
could n't help muttering with honest Jack,--

     "If sack and sugar be a sin, God help the wicked!"

The only things like personal amusements I had indulged in being
gin-and-water and dominoes,--cheap pleasures, if not very fascinating
ones!

"Living the life I did!" Why, what does the woman mean? Is she
throwing in my teeth the lazy, useless, unprofitable course of my
daily existence, without a pursuit, except to hear the gossip of the
town,--without an object, except to retail it? "Mrs. D.," said I, at
last, "you are, generally speaking, comprehensible. Whatever faults may
attach to your parts of speech, it must be owned they usually convey
your meaning. Now, for the better maintenance of this characteristic,
will you graciously be pleased to explain the words you have just
spoken? What do you mean by the 'life I am leading'?" "Not before the
girls, certainly, Mr. D.," said she, in a Lady Macbeth whisper that made
my blood curdle.

The mischief was out at once, Tom,--I know you are laughing at it
already; it's quite true, she was jealous,--mad jealous! Ah, Tom, my
boy, it 's all very good fun to laugh at Keeley, or Buckstone, or any
other of those diverting vagabonds who can convulse the house with such
a theme; but in real life the farce is downright tragedy. There is not a
single comfort or consolation of your life that is not kicked clean from
under you! A system of normal agitation is a fine thing, they tell us,
in politics, but it is a cruel adjunct of domestic life! Everything
you say, every look you give, every letter you seal, or every note you
receive, are counts in a mysterious indictment against you, till at last
you are afraid to blow your nose, lest it be taken for a signal to the
fat widow lady that is caressing her poodle at the window over the way!

You may be sure, Tom, that I repelled the charge with all the
indignation of injured innocence. I invoked my thirty years' good
character, the gravity of my demeanor, the gray of my whiskers; I
confessed to twenty other minor misdemeanors,--a taste for practical
jokes, a love of cribbage and long whist; I went further,--I expressed a
kind of St. Kevenism about women in general; but she cut me short with,
"Pray, Mr. D., make one exception; do be gallant enough to say that
there is one, at least, not included in this category of horrors."

"What are you at now?" cried I, almost losing all patience.

"Yes, sir," said she, in a grand melodramatic tone that she always
reserves for the peroration,--as postilions keep a trot for
the town,--"yes, sir, I am well accustomed to your perfidy and
dissimulation. I know perfectly for what infamous purposes abroad your
family are treated so ignominiously at home; I'm no stranger to your
doings." I tried to stop her by an appeal to common-sense; she despised
it. I invoked my age,--egad! I never put my foot in it till then.
That was exactly what made me the greatest villain of all! Whatever
veneration attaches to white hairs, it must be owned they get mighty ill
treated in discussions like the present; at least, Mrs. D. assured me
so, and gave me to understand that one pays a higher premium for their
morality, as they do for their life-assurance, as they grow older.
"Not," added she, as her eyes glittered with anger, and she sidled near
the door for an exit,--"not but, in the estimation of others, you may be
quite an Adonis,--a young gentleman of wit and fashion,--a beau of the
first water; I have no doubt Mary Jane thinks so,--you old wretch!"
This, in all, and a bang of the door that brought down an oil picture
that hung over it, closed the scene.

"Mary Jane thinks so!" said I, with my hand to my temples to collect
myself. Ah, Tom! it would have required a cooler head than mine was at
that moment to go hunting through the old archives of memory! Nor will I
torment you with even a narrative of my struggles. I passed that evening
and the night in a state of half distraction; and it was only when I was
giving one of our lawyers a check the next morning that I unravelled the
mystery, for, as I wrote down his name, I perceived it was Marie Jean
de Rastanac,--a not uncommon Christian name for men, though, considering
the length and breadth of the masculine calendar; a very needless
appropriation.

This was "Mary Jane," then, and this the origin of as pretty a conjugal
flare-up as I remember for the last twelvemonth!

Mrs. D. reminds me of the Opposition, and the Opposition of Vickars. I
suppose he wants to be a Lord of the Treasury. It's very like what
old Frederick used to call making a "goat a gardener." What rogues the
fellows are! You write to them about your son or your nephew, and they
answer you with some tawdry balderdash about their principles, as if any
one of us ever believed they were troubled with principles! I'm all for
fair straightforward dealing. Put James in the Board of Trade, and you
may cut up the Caffres for ten years to come. Give us something in the
Customs, and I don't care if New Zealand never has a constitution! 'Tis
only the fellows that have no families ask questions at the hustings!
Show me a man that wants _pledges_ from his _representative_, and I 'll
show you one that has got none from his wife!

And there's Vickars writing to me, as if I was a fool, about all the old
clap-traps that we used to think were kept for the election dinner; and
these chaps, like him, always spoil a good argument when they get hold
of it. Now, when a parson has n't tact enough to write his sermons, he
buys a volume of Tillotson or Blair, or any other, and reads one out as
well as he can; but your member--God bless the mark!--must invent his
own nonsense. How much better if he 'd give you Peel, or Russell, or Ben
Disraeli in the original! There are skeleton sermons for drowsy curates;
I wish any one would compose skeleton speeches for the county members.
You 'll say that I 'm unreasonably testy about these things; but I 've
got a letter this instant from Vickers, expressing his hope that I 'll
be satisfied with the view he has taken on the "question of free-labor
sugar." Did I ever dispute it, Tom? I drink no tea,--I hate sweet
things, and, except a lump, and that a small one, that I take in my
tumbler of punch, I never use sugar; and I care no more what 'a the
color of the man that raises it than I do for the name of the supercargo
that brought it over. Don't put cockroaches in it, and sell it cheap,
and I don't care a brass farthing whether it grew in Barbary or
Barbadoes! Not, my dear Tom, but it's all gammon, the way they discuss
the question; for the two parties are always debating two different
issues; one crying out cheap sugar, the other no slavery! and the
consequence is, they never meet in argument As to the preference Vickars
insists should be given to free-labor sugar, carry out the principle and
see what it comes to. I ought to receive eight or ten shillings a barrel
more for my wheat than old Joe M'Curdy, because _I_ always gave my
laborers eight-pence a day, and _he_ never went higher than sixpence,
more often fourpence. Is not that free labor and slavery, just as well
exemplified as if every man in the barony was a black?

They tell me the niggers won't work if you don't thrash them, and I
don't wonder, when I think of the heat of the climate; but sure if
they've more idleness, they ought to get less money; and lastly, I take
the Abolitionists--bother it for a long word!--on their own ground, and
are they prepared to say that if you impose a duty on slave sugar, the
Cubans and the rest of them won't only take more out of the niggers to
meet "the exigency of the market," as the newspapers call it? If they do
so, they 'll only be imitating our own farmers since the repeal of the
corn law. "You must bestir yourselves," says Lord Stanley; "competition
with the foreigner will demand all your activity. It won't do to go
on as you used. You must buy guano, take to drainage, study Smith of
Deanstown, and mind the rotation of your crops." Don't you think that
some enlightened Cuban will hit upon the same train of argument, and
make a fresh investment in whipcord? Ah, Tom! these are only party
squabbles, after all; and so I told Vickars. I don't know why, but it
always seemed to me that the blacks absorb a very unfair amount of our
loose sympathies; whether it's the color of them, or that they 're so
far away, or because they 're naked, I never knew; but certain it is,
we pity them far more than our own people, and I back myself to get up a
ladies' committee for a nigger question, before you collect three people
to hear you discuss a home grievance.

I have just been interrupted to receive Monsieur Jellicot, my defender
in action No. 3, a suit preferred by my late courier, "François
Tehetuer, born in the canton of Zug, aged thirty-seven years, single,
and a Protestant, against Monsieur Kenyidod, natif d'Irlande, près de
Dublin, dans le Royaume de la Grande Bretagne," &c., &c.; the demand
being for a year's wages, bed, board, and travelling expenses to his
native country. He, the aforesaid François, having been sent away for a
disgraceful riot in my house, in which he beat Pat, the other servant,
and smashed about five-and-twenty pounds' worth of glass and china. A
very pretty claim, Tom,--the preliminary resistance to which has already
cost me about one hundred and fifty francs to remove the litigation into
an upper court, where the bribery is higher, and consequently deemed
more within the reach of _my_ finances than those of honest Francis!

To tell you all that I think of the rascality of the administration of
justice here, would lead me into a diffusiveness something like that of
the pleasant "Mémoire" which my advocate has just left me to read, and
in which, as a measure of defence against an iniquitous demand, I 'm
obliged to give a short history of my life, with some account of my
father and grandfather. I made it as brief as I could, and said
nothing about the mortgages nor Hackett's bond; but even with all my
conciseness, the thing is very voluminous. The greatest difficulty of
all is the examination of Paddy Byrne, who, imagining that a law process
cannot have any other object than either to hang or transport _him_, has
already made two efforts at escape, and each time been brought back by
the police. His repugnance to the course of justice has already damaged
my case with my own defender, who, naturally enough, thinks if _my
own_ witnesses are so little to my credit, what will be the _opposite_
evidence? »

Another of my "causes célèbres," as Cary calls them,--she is the only
one of us has a laugh left in her,--is for the assault and battery of
a certain Mr. Cherry, a little rascal that came one day to tell me
that Mrs. D. 's appearance struck him as being more fascinating than
respectable! I kicked him downstairs into the street, and in return he
has dragged me into the Court of the Correctional Police, where I 'm
told they 'll maul _me_ far worse than I did him; besides this, I have
a small interlude suit for a breach of contract, in not taking a lodging
next an Anatomy School; and lastly, James's duel! I have compromised
fully double the number, and have received vague threats from different
quarters, that may either mean being waylaid or prosecuted, as the case
may be.

So far, therefore, as economy goes, this Continentalizing has not
succeeded up to this. Instead of living rent free at Dodsborough, with
our own mutton and turnips, the ducks and peas, that cost us, I may
say, nothing, here we are, keeping up the price of foreign markets,
and feeding the foreigners at the expense of our own poor people. If,
instead of excluding British manufactures from the Continent, Bony had
only struck out the notion of seducing over here John Bull himself and
his family, let me assure you, Tom, that he'd have done us far more
lasting and irreparable mischief. We can do without their markets. What
between their Zollvereins, their hostile tariffs, and troublesome trade
restrictions, they have themselves taught us to do without them; and,
indeed, except when we get up a row at Barcelona, and smuggle five or
six hundred thousand pounds' worth of goods into Spain, we care little
for the old Continent; but I 'll tell you what we cannot do without,--we
cannot do without their truffled turkeys, their tenors, their men-cooks,
and their dancing-women. French novels and Italian knavery have got a
fast hold of us; and I doubt much if the polite world of England would
n't rather see this country cut off from all the commerce of America
than be themselves excluded from the wicked old cities of Europe!

When I think of myself holding these opinions, and still living abroad,
I almost fancy I was meant for a Parliamentary life; for assuredly my
convictions and my actions are about as contradictory as any honorable
or right honorable gentleman on either side of the House. But so it is,
Tom. Whatever 's the reason of it I can't tell, but I believe in my
heart that every Irishman is always doing something or other that he
doesn't approve of; and that this is the real secret of that want of
conduct, deficient steadiness, uncertainty of purpose, and all the other
faults that our polite neighbors ascribe to us, and what the "Times" has
a word of its own for, and sets shortly down as "Celtic barbarism." And
between ourselves, the "Times" is too fond of blackguarding us. What's
the use of it? What good does it ever do? I may throw mud at a man every
day till the end of the world, but I 'll never make his face the cleaner
for it!

The same system we used to follow once with America; and at last, what
with sneering and jibing, we got up a worse feeling between the two
countries than ever existed in the heat of the war. No matter how stupid
the writer, how little he saw, or how ill he told it, let a fellow
come back from the United States with a good string of stories about
whittling, spitting, and chewing, interlard the narrative with a full
share of slang, show up Jonathan as a vulgar, obtrusive, self-important
animal, boastful and ignorant, and I 'll back the book to run through
its two or three editions with a devouring and delighted public. But
what would you think of a man that went down to Leeds or Manchester, to
look at some of our great factories at full work; who saw the evidences
of our enterprise and industry, that are felt at the uttermost ends
of the earth; who knew that every bang of that big piston had its
responsive answer in some far-away land over the sea, where British
skill and energy were diffusing comfort and civilization,--what, I say,
would you think of him if, instead of standing amazed at the future
before such a people, he sat down to chronicle how many fustian jackets
had holes in them, how many shaved but twice a week, whether the
overseer made a polite bow, or the timekeeper talked with a strong
Yorkshire accent?

I tell you, Tom, our travellers in the States did little other than
this. I don't mean to say that it wouldn't be pleasanter and prettier to
look at, if all the factory-folk were dressed like Young England,
with white waistcoats and cravats, and all the young ladies wore silk
petticoats and white satin shoes; but I'm afraid that, considering the
work to do, that's scarcely practicable; and so with regard to America,
considering the work to do,--ay, Tom, and the way they are doing it,--I
'm not over-disposed to be critical about certain asperities that are
sure to rub off in time, particularly if we don't sharpen them into
spikes by our own awkward attempts to polish them.

If I was able, I'd like to write a book about America. I'd like to
inquire, first, if, seeing the problem that the Yankees are trying to
solve, the way they have set about it is the best and the shortest? I'd
like, too, to study what secret machinery combines a weak government
and a strong people,--the very reverse of what we see in the Old World,
where the governments are strong and the people weak? I'd like to find
out, if I could, why people that, for the most part, have formed the
least subordinate populations of the Old World, behave so remarkably
well in the New?

In running off into these topics, Tom, I suppose I'm like every one
else, who, in proportion as his own affairs become embarrassed, takes a
wonderful interest in those of his neighbors. Half the patriotism in the
world comes out of the bankruptcy courts.

And, here's Monsieur Gabriel Dulong "for my instructions _in re_
Cherry," as if to recall me from foreign affairs, and once more bring
back my wandering thoughts to the Home Office.

Write to me, Tom, and send me money. You have no idea how it goes here;
and as for the bankers, I never met the like of them! The exchange is
always against you, and if you want a ten-pound English note, they'll
make you smart for it.

The more I see of this foreign life, the less I like it. I know that we
have been unfortunate in one or two respects. I know that it is rash in
me to speak on so brief an acquaintance with it, but I already dread
our being more intimate. Mrs. D. is not the woman you knew her. No
more thrift, no more saving,--none of that looking after trifles that,
however we may laugh at in our wives, we are right glad to profit by.
She has taken a new turn, and fancies, God forgive her! that we have
an elegant estate, and a fine, thriving, solvent tenantry. Wherever the
delusion came from, I cannot guess; but I 'm certain that the little
slip of sea between Dover and Calais is the origin of more false notions
and extravagant fancies than the wide Atlantic.

I have been thinking for some days back that you ought to write me
a strong letter,--you know what I mean, Tom,--a strong letter about
matters at home. There's no great difficulty, when a man lives in
Ireland, to make out a good list of grievances.

Give it to us, then, and let us have our fill of rotten potatoes,
blighted wheat, runaway tenants, and workhouse riots. Throw in a murder
if you like, and make it "strong," Tom. Say that, considering the
cheapness of the Continent, we draw a terrible sight of money, and add
that you can't imagine what we do with the cash. Put "Strictly private
and confidential" on the outside, and I 'll take care to be out of the
way when it comes. You can guess that Mrs. D. will soon open it, and
perhaps it may give her a shock. Is n't it hard that I have to go about
the bush in this way? but that's what we 're come to. If I hint a word
about expense, they look on me as if I was Shylock; and I believe they
'd rather hear me blaspheme than say the phrase "economy." I think, from
what I see in James, that he's fretting about this very same thing. He
did n't say exactly _that_, but he dropped a remark the other day that
showed me he was grieved by the turn for dress and finery that Mrs. D.
and Mary Anne have taken up; and one of the nurses that sat up with
him told me that he used to sigh dreadfully at times, and mutter broken
expressions about money.

To tell you the truth, Tom, I 'd go back to-morrow, if I could. "And why
can't you?--what prevents you, Kenny?" I hear you say. Just this, then,
I haven't the pluck! I couldn't stand the attack of Mrs. D. and her
daughter. I 'm not equal to it. My constitution is n't what it used to
be, and I'm afraid of the gout. At my time of life, they say it always
flies to the heart or to the head,--maybe because there 's a vacancy in
these places after fifty-six or seven years of age! I see, too, by the
looks Mrs. D. gives Mary Anne occasionally, that they know this; and she
often gives me to understand that she does n't wish to dispute with me,
for reasons of her own. This is all very well, and kindly meant, Tom,
but it throws me into a depression that is dreadful.

I see by the papers that you've taken up all kinds of "Sanitary
Questions" at home. As for the health of towns, Tom, the grand thing
is not to suffer them to grow too big. You're always crying out about
twelve people sleeping in one room somewhere, and you gave the ages of
each of them in the "Times," and you grow moral and modest, and I don't
know what else, about decency, destitution, and so forth; but what's
London itself but the very same thing on an enlarged scale? It's
nonsense to fret about a wart, when you have a wen in the same
neighborhood. Not that I'm sorry to see fine folk taking trouble about
what concerns the poor, particularly when they go about it sensibly and
quietly, without any balderdash of little books, and, above all, without
a ladies' committee. If there 's anything chokes me, it's a
ladies' committee. Three married women on bad terms with
their husbands, four widows, and five old maids, all prying,
pedantic, and impertinent,--going loose about the world with little
subscription-cards, decrying innocent pleasures, and decoying your
children's pocket-money,--turning benevolence into a house-tax, and
making charity like the "Pipe-water." You remark, too, that the pretty
women won't join these gangs at all. Now and then you may see one take
out a letter of marque, and cruise for herself, but never in company.
Seeing the importunity of these old damsels, I often wondered why the
Government never thought of employing ladies as tax-collectors. He 'd be
a hardy man who 'd make one or two I could mention call twice.

I have been turning over in my mind what you said about Dodsborough; and
though I don't like the notion of giving a lease, still it's possible we
might do it without much danger. "He is an Englishman," you say, "that
has never lived in Ireland." Now, my notion is, Tom, that if he be
as old as you say, it's too late for him to try. They're a mulish,
obstinate, unbending kind of people, these English; and wherever you
see them, they never conform to the habits of the people. After thirty
years' experience of Ireland, you'll hear them saying that they cannot
accustom themselves to the "lies and the climate "! If I have heard that
same remark once, I've heard it fifty times. And what does it amount to
but a confession that they won't take the world as they find it. Ireland
is rainy, there's no doubt, and Paddy is fond of telling you what he
thinks is agreeable to you,--a kind of native courtesy, just like his
offering you his potato when he knows in his heart that he can't spare
it,--but he gives it, nevertheless.

I 'd say, then, we might let him have Dodsborough, on the chance that he
'd never stay six months there, and perhaps in the mean while we 'd find
out another Manchester gentleman to succeed him. I remember poor old
Dycer used to sell a little chestnut mare every Saturday,--nobody ever
kept her a fortnight,--and when she died, by jumping over Bloody Bridge
into the Liffey, and killed herself and her rider, Dycer said, "There's
four-and-twenty pounds a year lost to _me,_"--and so it was too! Think
over this, and tell me your mind on it.

I believe I told you of the Polish Count that we took with us to
Waterloo. I met him yesterday with my cloak on him; but really the
number of my legal embroilments here is so great that I was shy of
arresting him. We hear a great deal of talk about the partition of
Poland, and there is an English lord keeps the subject for his own
especial holdings forth; but I am convinced that the greatest evil
of that nefarious act lies in having thrown all these Polish fellows
broadcast over Europe. I wish it was a kingdom to-morrow, if they
'd only consent to stay there. To be well rid of them and their
sympathizers, whom I own I like even less, would be a great blessing
just now. I wish the "Times" would stop blackguarding Louis Napoleon. If
the French like being bullied, what is that to us? My own notion is that
the people and their ruler are well met; besides, if we only reflect
a little on it, we 'll see that anything is better for _us_ than a
Bourbon,--I don't care what branch! They are under too deep obligations
to us, and have too often accepted of English hospitality, not to hate
us; and hate us they do. I believe the first Frenchman that cherishes an
undying animosity to England is your Legitimist; next to him comes the
Orleanist.

It's a strange thing, but the more I have to think of about my own
affairs, and the worse they are going with me, the more my thoughts run
after politics and the newspapers. I suppose that's all for the best,
and that if people dwelled too much on their own troubles, their heads
would n't stand it. You've seen a trick the horse jockeys have when a
horse goes lame of one foot,--to pinch him a little with the shoe of the
opposite one; and it's not bad philosophy to practise mentally, and you
may preserve your equanimity just by putting on the load fairly. And
so it is I try to divert my thoughts from mortgages, creditors, and
Chancery, by wondering how the King of Naples will contrive to keep his
throne, and how the Austrians will save themselves from bankruptcy! I
know it would be more to the purpose if I turned my thoughts to getting
Mary Anne married, and James into the Board of Trade; at least, so Mrs.
D. tells me, and although she is always repeating the old saw about
"marriages being made in heaven," she evidently does n't wish to give
too much trouble in that quarter, and would like to lend a hand herself
to the work.

Jellicot has sent his clerk here to tell me that I have been pronounced
"Contumacious," for not appearing somewhere, and before somebody that I
never heard of! Egad! these kind of proceedings are scarcely calculated
to develop the virtues of humanity! They sent me something I thought
was a demand for a tax, and it turns out a judge's warrant; for aught I
know, there may be an order to seize the body of Kenny James Dodd, and
consign him to the dungeons of the Inquisition! Write to me at once,
Tom, and above all don't forget the money.

Yours, most faithfully,

K. I. Dodd.

Why does Molly Gallagher keep pestering me about Christy? She wants me
to get him into the "Grand Canal." I wish they were both there, with all
my heart.

I open this to say that Vickars has just sent me a copy of his address
to the "Independent Electors of Bruff." I'd like to see one of them,
for the curiosity of the thing. He asks me to give him my opinion of the
document, and the "benefit of my advice and counsel," as if I had not
been reading the very same productions since I was a child. The very
phraseology is unaltered. Why can't they hit on something new? He "hopes
that he restores to them, unsullied, the high trust they had committed
to his keeping." Egad! if he does so, he ought to get a patent for
taking out spots, stains, and discolorations, for a dirtier garment than
our representative mantle has been, would be hard to find. Like all our
patriots that sit in Whig company, he is sorely puzzled between his love
for Ireland and his regard for himself, and has to limit his political
line to a number of vague threats about overgrown Church Establishments
and Landlord tyranny, not being quite sure how far his friends in power
are disposed to worry the Protestants and grind the gentry.

Of course be batters up the pastors of the people; but he might as well
leave _that_ alone; the priests are too cunning for all that balderdash
nowadays. They'll insist on something real, tangible, and substantial.
What they say is this: "The landlords used to have it all their own
way at one time. _Our_ day is come now." And there they're right, Tom;
there's no doubt of it. O'Connell said true when he told the English,
"Ye're always abusing me,--and call me the 'curse of Ireland' and the
destroyer of the public peace,--but wait a bit. I 'll not be five years
in my grave till you 'd wish me back again." There never was anything
more certain. So long as you had Dan to deal with, you could make your
bargain,--it might be, it often was, a very hard one,--but when it was
once made, he kept the terms fairly and honestly! But with whom will you
treat _now?_ Is it with M'Hale, or Paul Cullen, or Dr. Meyler? Sure each
of them will demand separate and specific conditions, and you might as
well try to settle the Caffre war by a compact with Sandilla, who, the
moment he sells himself to you, enters into secret correspondence with
his successor.

I'm never so easy in my mind as when I see the English in a row with the
Catholics. I don't care a brass farthing how much it may go against
us at first,--how enthusiastically they may yell "No Popery," burn
cardinals in effigy, and persecute the nuns. Give them rope enough, Tom,
and see if they don't hang themselves! There never came a fit of rampant
Protestantism in England that all the weak, rash, and ridiculous
zealots did n't get to the head of the movement. Off they go at score,
subsidizing renegade vagabonds of our Church to abuse us, raking up bad
stories of conventual life, and attacking the confessional. There
never were gulls like them! They swallow all the cases of cruelty
and persecution at once,--they foster every scoundrel, if he's only
a deserter from us,--ay, and they even take to their fireplaces the
filthiest novels of Eugene Sue, if he only satisfies their rancorous
hate of a Jesuit. And where does it end? I'll tell you. Their converts
turn out to be scoundrels too infamous for common contact; their
prosecutions fail,--why would n't they, when we get them up
ourselves?--John Bull gets ashamed of himself; round comes the Press,
and that's the moment when any young rising Catholic barrister in the
House can make his own terms, whether it be to endow the true Church or
to smash the false one!

As for John Bull, he never can do mischief enough when he 's in a
passion, but he's always ready to pay double the damage in the morning.
And as for putting "salt on our tails," let him try it with the "Dove of
Elphin," that 's all.

I was forgetting to tell you that I sent back Vickars's address, only
remarking that I was sorry not to know his sentiments about the Board of
Trade. _Ver. sap._




LETTER X. CAROLINE DODD TO MISS COX, AT MISS MINCING'S ACADEMY

BLACK ROCK, IRELAND.

My dear Miss Cox,--I have long hesitated and deliberated with myself
whether it were not better to appear ungrateful for my silence, than by
writing inflict you with a very tiresome, good-for-nothing epistle; and
if I have now taken the worst counsel, it is because I prefer anything
rather than seem forgetful of one to whom I owe so much as to my dear,
kind governess. Were I only to tell you of our adventures and mishaps
since we came abroad, there might, perhaps, be enough to fill half a
dozen letters; but I greatly doubt if the theme would amuse you. You
were always too good-natured to laugh at anything where there was even
one single feature that suggested sorrow; and I grieve to say that,
however ludicrously many of our accidents might read, there is yet mixed
with them too much that is painful and distressing. You will say this is
a very gloomy opening, and from one whom you had so often to chide
for the wild gayety of her spirits; but so it is: I am sad enough
now,--sadder than ever you wished to see me. It is not that I am not in
the very midst of objects full of deep interest,--it is not that I do
not recognize around me scenes, places, and names, all of which are
imbued with great and stirring associations. I am neither indifferent
nor callous, but I see everything through a false medium, and I hear
everything with a perverted judgment; in a word, we seem to have come
abroad, not to derive the advantages that might arise from new sources
of knowledge in language, literature, and art, but to scramble for a
higher social position,--to impose ourselves on the world for something
that we have no pretension to, and to live in a way that we cannot
afford. You remember us at Dodsborough,--how happy we were, how
satisfied with the world; that is, with our world, for it was a
very little one. We were not very great folk, but we had all the
consideration as if we were; for there were none better off than
ourselves, and few had so many opportunities of winning the attachment
of all classes. Papa was always known as the very best of landlords,
mamma had not her equal for charity and kindness, James was actually
adored by the people, and I hesitate not to say that Mary Anne and
myself were not friendless. There was a little daily round of duties
that brought us all together in our cares and sympathies; for, however
different our ages or tastes, we had but one class of subjects to
discuss, and, happily, we saw them always with the same light and
shadow. Our life was, in short, what fashionable people would have
deemed a very vulgar, inglorious kind of existence; but it was full of
pleasant little incidents, and a thousand little cares and duties, that
gave it abundant variety and interest. I was never a quick scholar, as
you know too well. I have tried my dear Miss Cox's patience sorely
and often, but I loved my lessons; I loved those calm hours in the
summer-house, with the perfume of the rose and the sweetbrier around
us, and the hum of the bee mingling its song with my own not less drowsy
French. That sweet "Telemachus," so easy and so softly sounding; that
good Madame de Genlis, so simple-minded when she thought herself most
subtle! Not less did I love the little old schoolroom of a winter's
day, when the pattering rain streamed down the windows, and gave, by
contrast, all the aspect of more comfort within. How pleasant was it, as
we gathered round the turf fire, to think that we were surrounded with
such appliances against gloomy hours,--the healthful exercise of happy
minds! Ah, my dear Miss Cox, how often you told us to study hard, since
that, once launched upon the great sea of life, the voyage would exact
all our cares; and yet see, here am I upon that wide ocean, and already
longing to regain the quiet little creek,--the little haven of rest that
I quitted!

I promised to be very candid with you, to conceal nothing whatever;
but I did not remember that my confessions, to be thus frank, must
necessarily involve me in remarks on others, in which I may be often
unjust,--in which I am certain to be unwarranted,--since nothing in my
position entitles me to be their censor. However, I will keep my pledge
this once, and you will tell me afterwards if I should continue to
observe it. And now to begin. We are living here as though we were
people of vast fortune. We occupy the chief suite of apartments at the
first hotel, and we have a carriage, with showy liveries, a courier, and
are quite beset with masters of every language and accomplishment you
can fancy,--expensive kind of people, whose very dress and style bespeak
the terms on which their services are rendered. Our visitors are all
titled: dukes, princes, and princesses shower amongst our cards. Our
invitations are from the same class, and yet, my dear Miss Cox, we feel
all the unreality of this high and stately existence. We look at each
other and think of Dodsborough! We think of papa in his old fustian
shooting-jacket, paying the laborers, and higgling about half a day to
be stopped here, and a sack of meal to be deducted there. We think of
mamma's injunctions to Darby Sloan about the price he is to get for the
"boneens,"--have you forgotten our vernacular for little pigs?--and how
much he must "be sure to ask" or the turkeys. We think of Mary Anne
and myself taking our lesson from Mr. Delaney, and learning the
Quad--drilles as he pronounced it, as the last new discovery of the
dancing art, and dear James hammering away at the rule of three on an
old slate, to try and qualify himself for the Board of Trade. And we
remember the utter consternation of the household--the tumult dashed
with a certain sense of pride--when some subaltern of the detachment
at Bruff cantered up to the door and sent in his name! Dear me, how
the little words 25th Regiment, or 91st, used to make our hearts beat,
suggestive as they were of gay balls at the Town-hall with red-coated
partners, the regimental band, and the colors tastefully festooning the
whitewashed walls. And now, my dear Miss Sarah, we are actually ashamed
of the contact with one of those whom once it was our highest glory to
be acquainted with! You may remember a certain Captain Morris, who was
stationed at Bruff,--dark, with very black eyes, and most beautiful
teeth; he was very silent in company, and, indeed, we knew him but
slightly, for he chanced to have some altercation with pa on the bench
one day, and, as I hear he was all in the right, pa did not afterwards
forgive him. Well, here he is now, having left the army,--I don't know
if on half-pay, or sold out altogether,--but here he is, travelling for
the benefit of his mother's health,--a very old and infirm lady, to whom
he is dotingly attached. She fretted so much when she discovered that
his regiment was ordered abroad to the Cape, that he had no other
resource than to leave the service! He told me so himself.

"I had nobody else in the world," said he, "who felt any interest in my
fortunes; _she_ had made a hundred sacrifices for me. It was but fair I
should make one for _her_."

He knew he was surrendering position and prospect forever,--that to him
no career could ever open again; but he had placed a duty high above all
considerations of self, and so he parted with comrades and pursuit,
with everything that made up his hope and his object, and descended to a
little station of unobtrusive, undistinguished humility, satisfied to be
the companion of a poor, feeble old lady! He has as much as confessed to
me that their means are very small. It was an accidental admission with
reference to something he thought of doing, but which he found to be too
expensive; and the avowal was made so easily, so frankly, so free from
any false shame on one side, or any unworthy desire to entrap sympathy
on the other! It was as if he spoke of something which indeed concerned
him, but in no wise gave the mainspring to his thoughts or actions! He
came to visit us here; but his having left the service, coupled with our
present taste for grand acquaintance, were so little in his favor that
I believed he would not have repeated his call. An accidental service,
however, that he was enabled to render mamma and Mary Anne at a railroad
station the other day, and where but for him they might have been
involved in considerable difficulties, has opened a chance of further
intimacy, for he has already been here two mornings, and is coming this
evening to tea.

You will, perhaps, ask me how and by what chain of circumstances Captain
Morris is linked with the earlier portion of this letter, and I will
tell you. It was from him that I learned the history of those high and
distinguished individuals by whom we are surrounded; from him I heard
that, supposing us to be people of immense wealth, a whole web of
intrigue has been spun around us, and everything that the ingenuity and
craft of the professional adventurer could devise put in requisition to
trade upon our supposed affluence and inexperience! He has told me of
the dangerous companions by whom James is surrounded; and if he has
not spoken so freely about a certain young nobleman--Lord George
Tiverton--who is now seldom or never out of the house, it is because
that they have had something of a personal difference,--a serious one,
I suspect, and which Captain Morris seems to reckon as a bar to anything
beyond the merest mention of his name. It is not impossible, too, that
though he might not make any revelations to _me_ on such a theme, he
would be less guarded with papa or James. Whatever may be the fact, he
does not advance at all in the good graces of the others. Mamma
calls him a dry crust,--a confirmed old bachelor. Mary Anne and Lord
George--for they are always in partnership in matters of opinion--have
set him down as a "military prig;" and papa, who is rarely unjust in the
long run, says that "there 's no guessing at the character of a fellow
of small means, who never goes in debt" This may or may not be true;
but it is certainly hard to condemn him for an honorable trait, simply
because it does not give the key to his nature. And now, my last hope
is what James may think of him, for as yet they have not met. I think
I hear you echo my words, "And why your 'last hope,' Miss Cary? What
possible right have you to express yourself in these terms?" Simply
because I feel that one man of true and honorable sentiments, one
right-judging, right-feeling gentleman, is all-essential to us abroad!
and if we reject this chance, I 'm not so sure we shall meet with
another.

How ashamed I am not to be able to tell you of all I have seen! But so
it is,--description is a very tame performance in good hands; it is a
lamentable exhibition in weak ones! As to painters, I prefer Vandyk to
Rubens; not that I have even the pretence of a reason for my criticism.
I know nothing, whatever, of what constitutes excellence in color,
drawing, or design. I understand in a picture only what it suggests to
my own mind, either as a correct copy of nature, or as originating new
trains of thought, new sources of feeling; and by these tests Vandyk
pleases me more than his master. But, shall I own it, there is a class
of pictures of a far inferior order that gives me greater enjoyment than
either, I meau those scenes of real life, those representations of some
little uneventful incident of the every-day world,--an old chemist
at work in his dim old laboratory; an old house Vrow knitting in her
red-tiled chamber, the sunlight slanting in, and tipping with an azure
tint the tortoiseshell cat that purrs beside her; a lover teaching
his mistress the guitar; an old cavalier giving his horse a drink at a
fountain. These, in all the lifelike power of Gerard Dow, Teerburgh, or
Mieris, have a charm for me I cannot express. They are stories, and they
are better than stories; for oftentimes the writer conveys his meaning
imperfectly, and oftentimes he overlays you with his explanations,
stifling within you those expansive bursts of sentiment that ought to
have been his aim to evoke, and thus, by elaborating, he obliterates.
Now, your artist--I mean, of course, your great artist--is eminently
suggestive. He gives you but one scene, it is true, but how full is it
of the past, and the future too! Can you gaze on that old alchemist,
with his wrinkled forehead, and dim, deep-set eyes, his threadbare
doublet, and his fingers tremulous from age? Can you watch that
countenance, calm but careworn, where every line exhibits the long
struggle there has been between the keen perceptions of science and the
golden dreams of enthusiasm, where the coldest passions of a worldly
nature have warred with the most glorious attributes of a poetic
temperament? Can you see him, as he sits watching the alembic wherein
the toil of years is bubbling, and not weave within your own mind the
life-long conflict he has sustained? Have you him not before you in his
humble home, secluded and forgotten of men, yet inhabiting a dream-world
of crowded images? What beautiful stories--what touching little episodes
of domestic life--lie in the quiet scenes of those quaint interiors;
and how deep the charm that attaches one to these peaceful spots of home
happiness! The calm intellectuality of the old, the placid loveliness
of the young, the air of cultivated enjoyment that pervades all, are in
such perfect keeping that you feel as though they imparted to yourself
some share of that gentle, tranquil pleasure that forms their own
atmosphere!

Oh, my dear Miss Cox! if there be "sermons in stones," there are
romances in pictures,--and romances far more truthful than the
circulating libraries supply us with. And, to turn back to real life,
shall I own to you that I am sadly disappointed with the gay world? I am
fully alive to all the value of the confession. I appreciate perfectly
how double-edged is the weapon of this admission, and that I am in
reality but pleading guilty to my own unfitness for its enjoyments; but
as I never tried to evade or deny that fact, I may be suffered to give
my testimony with so much of qualification. When I compare the little
gratification that society confers on the very highest classes, with the
heartfelt delight intercourse imparts to the humble, I am at a loss
to see wherein lies the advantage of all the exclusive regulations of
fashionable life. Of one thing I feel assured, and that is, that one
must be bora in a certain class, habituated from the earliest years to
its ideas and habits, filled with its peculiar traditions, and animated
by its own special hopes, to conform gracefully and easily to its laws.
_We_ go into society to perform a part,--just as artificial a one as any
in a genteel comedy,--and consequently are too much occupied with
"our character" to derive that benefit from intercourse which is so
attainable by those less constrained by circumstances. If all this
amounts to the simple confession that I am by no means at home in the
great world, and far more at my ease with more humble associates, it is
no more than the fact, and comes pretty near to what you often remarked
to me,--that "in criticising external objects one is very frequently but
delineating little traits and lineaments of one's own nature."

I am unable to answer your question about our future plans; for, indeed,
they appear anything but fixed. I believe if papa had his choice he
would go back at once.

This, however, mamma will not hear of; and, indeed, the word Ireland is
now as much under ban amongst us as that name that is never "syllabled
to ears polite." The doctors say James ought to pass a month or six
weeks at Schwalbach, to drink the waters and take the baths; and,
from what I can learn, the place is the perfection of rural beauty and
quietude. Captain Morris speaks of it as a little paradise. He is going
there himself; for I have learned--though not from him--that he was
badly wounded in the Afghan war. I will write to you whenever our
destination is decided on; and, meanwhile, beg you to believe me my dear
Miss Cox's

Most attached and faithful pupil,

Caroline Dodd.




LETTER XI. MR. DODD TO THOMAS PURCELL, ESQ., OF THE GRANGE, BRUFF.

Dear Tom,--I got the bills all safe, and cashed two of them yesterday.
They came at the right moment,--when does not money?--for we are going
to leave this for Germany, one of the watering-places there, the name
of which I cannot trust myself to spell, being recommended for James's
wound. I suppose I 'm not singular, but somehow I never was able to
compute what I owed in a place till I was about to leave it. From that
moment, however, in come a shower of bills and accounts that one never
dreamed of. The cook you discharged three months before has never paid
for the poultry, and you have as many hens to your score as if you were
a fox. You 've lost the fishmonger's receipts, and have to pay him over
again for a whole L

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