My dearest Kitty,--I do not, indeed, deserve your reproaches. Mine is
not a heart to forget the fondest ties of early affection, nor would
you charge me with this were you near me. But how can _you_, lying
peacefully in the calm haven of domestic quiet, "sleeping on your
shadow," as the poetess says, sympathize with one storm-tossed, and all
but shipwrecked on the wild, wide ocean of life?
Of the past I cannot trust myself to speak, and I must say, Kitty, if
there be one lesson which the Continent teaches above all others, it is
not to go over the bygone. A week ago, in foreign acceptation, is half
a century; and he who remembers the events of yesterday rather verges
on being a "bore" for his pains. Probably it is the intensity with which
they throw themselves into the "present" that imparts to foreigners
their incontestable superiority in all that constitutes social
distinction,--their glowing enthusiasm even about what we should call
trifles,--their ardor to attain what we should deem of little moment!
If you were not to witness it, Kitty, you could n't believe what an
odious thing your regular untravelled Englishman is. His pride, his
stiffness, his self-conceit, his contempt for everybody and everything,
from good breeding to grammar. Contrast him with your pliant Frenchman,
your courteous German, or your devoted Italian; so smiling and so
submissive, so grateful for the slightest mark of your favor, that
you feel all the power of riches in the wealth of your smiles or the
resources of your wit!
And they are so ingenious in discovering your perfections! It is not
alone the rich color of your hair, the arch of your eyebrow, or the
symmetry of your instep, Kitty, but even the secret workings of your
fancy, the fitful playings of your imagination: these they understand
by a kind of magic. I really believe that the reason Englishmen do
not comprehend women is that they despise and look down upon them.
Foreigners, on the other hand, adore and revere them! There is a kind of
worship paid to the sex abroad that is most fascinating.
One reason for all this may be that in England there are so many roads
to ambition quite separated from female influence. Now, here this is
not the case. We are everything abroad, Kitty. Political, literary,
artistic, fashionable,--as we will. We can be fascinating and go
everywhere, or exclusive and only admit a chosen few. We can be deep
in all the secrets of State, and exhausted with all the cares of the
cabinet, or can be _lionnes_, and affect cigars and men society, talk
scandal and _coulisses_, wear all the becoming caprices of costume, and
be even more than men in independence.
I see--or I fancy that I see--your astonishment at all that I am telling
you, and that you half exclaim, "Where and how did Mary Anne learn all
this?" I 'll tell you, my dearest Kitty, since even the expansion of
heart to my oldest friend is not sweeter to me than the enjoyment of
speaking of one whose very name is already a spell to me.
You must know, then, that after various incidents, too numerous to
recount, we left Brussels for Liège, where poor mamma was taken so ill
that we were forced to remain several weeks. This, of course, threw
a gloom over our party, and deprived me of the inestimable pleasure
I should have felt in visiting the scenes so graphically described in
Scott's delightful "Quentin Durward." As it was, I did contrive to make
acquaintance with the old palace of the prince bishops, and brought
away, as souvenir, a very pretty lace lappet and a pair of gold earrings
of antique form, which I wanted greatly to suit a _moyen âge_ costume
that I have just completed, and of which I shall speak hereafter.
Liège, however, did not agree with any of us. Mamma never slept at
night; papa did little else than sleep day and night; poor James
overworked himself at study; and Cary and myself grew positively plain!
so that we started at last for Aix-la-Chapelle, intending to proceed
direct to the Rhine. On arriving, however, at the "Quatre Saisons"
Hotel, pa found an excellent stock of port wine, which an Englishman,
just deceased, had brought over for his own drinking, and he resolved
to remain while it lasted. There were fortunately only seven dozen, or
we should not have got away, as we did, in three weeks.
Not that Aix was entirely devoid of amusement. In the morning there is a
kind of promenade round the bath-house, where you drink a sulphur spa to
soft music; but, as James says, a solution of rotten eggs in ditch water
is scarcely palatable, even with Donizetti. After that, you breakfast
with what appetite you may; then you ride out in large parties of
fifteen or twenty till dinner, the day being finished with a kind of
half-dress, or no dress, ball at "the rooms." The rooms, my dear Kitty,
require a word or two of description. They are a set of six or
seven _salons_ of considerable size, and no mean pretension as to
architecture; at least, the ceilings are very handsome, and the
architraves of doors and windows display a vast deal of ornament, but so
dirty, so shamefully, shockingly dirty, it is incredible to say! In some
there are newspapers; in others they talk; in one large apartment there
is dancing; but the rush and recourse of all seem to two chambers, where
they play at rouge-et-noir and roulette.
I only took a passing peep at this pandemonium, and was shocked at the
unshaven and ill-cared-for aspect of the players, who really, to my
eyes, appeared like persons in great poverty; and, indeed, Lord George
informs me that the frequenters of this place are a very inferior class
to those who resort to Ems and Baden.
I was not very sorry to get away from this; for, independently of
other reasons, pa had made us very remarkable--I had almost said very
ridiculous--before the first week was over. In order to prevent James
from frequenting the play-room, papa stationed himself at the door,
where he sat, with a great stick before him, from twelve o'clock every
day till the same hour at night,--a piece of eccentricity that of course
drew public attention to him, and made us all the subject of impertinent
remarks, and indeed of some practical jokes: such as sudden alarms
of fire, anonymous letters, and other devices, to seduce him from his
watch.
It was, therefore, an inexpressible relief to me to hear that we
were off for Cologne,--that city of sweet waters and a glorious
cathedral!--though I must own to you, Kitty, that in the first of these
two attractions the place is disappointing. The manufacturers of the
far-famed perfume would seem so successfully to have extracted the
odor of the richly gifted flowers, that they have actually left nothing
endurable by human nose! Of all the towns in Europe, it is, they tell,
the very worst in this respect; and even papa, who between snuff and
nerves long inured to Irish fairs and quarter sessions, is tolerably
indifferent,--even he said that he felt it "rather close and stuffy."
As for the cathedral, dearest, I have no words to convey my sensations
of awe, wonderment, and worship. Yes, Kitty, it was a sense of soft
devotional bewilderment,--a kind of deliciously pious rapture I felt
come over me, as I sat in a dark recess of this glorious building,
the rich organ notes pealing through the vaulted aisles, and floating
upwards towards the fretted roof. Even Lord George--that volatile
spirit--could not resist the influence of the spot, and he pressed my
hand in the fervor of his feelings,--a liberty, I need scarcely tell
you, he never would have ventured on under less exciting circumstances.
Shall I own to you, Kitty, that this sign of emotion on his part
emboldened me to a step that you will call one of daring heroism? I
could not, however, resist the temptation of contrasting the solemn
grandeur and gorgeous sublimity of _our_ Church with the cold,
unimpressive nakedness of _his_. The theme, the spot, the hour,--all
seemed to inspire me, Kitty; and I suppose I must have pleaded
eloquently, for his hand trembled, his head drooped, and almost fell
upon my shoulder. I told him repeatedly that it was his reason I wished
to convince,--that I neither desired to captivate his imagination nor
engage his heart.
"And why not my heart?" cried he, passionately. "Is it that--"
Oh, Kitty, who can tell what he would have said next, if a dirty little
acolyte had not whisked round the corner and begged of us to move
away and let him light two tapers beside a skull in a glass case? The
officious little wretch might, at least, have waited till we had gone
away; but no, nothing would do for him but he must illuminate his bones
that very instant, and thus, probably, was lost to me forever the un
speakable triumph I had all but accomplished.
We arose and set out in search of our party, who were, it appeared,
in quest of papa: nor was it for two hours that we found him. He had
ascended the tower with us all, but instead of coming down when we did,
he took a short turn on the leads, and, finding the door closed on his
return, remained a prisoner there during all the time we were in search
of him. There is no saying how much longer he might have passed in this
captivity--for all his cries and shouts were unheard--had he not hit
upon an expedient, not entirely devoid of danger, for his rescue. This
was to tear off any loose tiles he could find, and hurl them over into
the street beneath. Why and how nobody was killed by it we cannot guess,
for it is a most crowded thoroughfare, and actually crammed with stalls
of fruit and vegetables. The buttresses and projections of the cathedral
probably arrested many of the missiles in their flight; but one, thrown
I conjecture with extraordinary force, came bang on the roof of the
archbishop's carriage, just as his Grace had got in, the noise and the
shock almost depriving him of consciousness! Papa, however, knew nothing
of all this, and was actually hard at work detaching a lead gutter when
they rushed up and apprehended him.
[Illustration: 200]
It was almost an hour before we could come to anything like a reasonable
explanation of the incident, for papa insisted that he was the aggrieved
person throughout, and raved about his action for false imprisonment.
The dean of the cathedral demanded a handsome sum for reparation, and
threw in a sly word about "sacrilege" if we demurred. Mamma, still weak
and delicate, took to hysterics, while a considerable mob outside gave
token of preparation to maltreat us on our exit. Under all these adverse
conjunctures we thought it wiser to remain where we were till night; so
we sent for something to the hotel, and made ourselves comfortable in
the sacristan's room, where, the first shock over, we grew both merry
and happy, Lord G., as usual, being the life of our party, by that
buoyant exhilaration that really, Kitty, is the first of all nature's
gifts.
I already guess whither your thoughts are carrying you, Kitty! Have I
not divined aright? You are calling to mind the night we passed at the
old windmill at Gariff, when the bridge was earned away by the flood I
I vow to you it was uppermost in my own thoughts too! It was there Peter
first told me of his love! Never till that moment had I the slightest
suspicion of his feeling towards me. I was young, artless, and
confiding,--a mere child of nature! Indeed, I must say that he was not
blameless in taking the advantage he did of my fresh and unsuspecting
heart! What knew I of the world? How could I anticipate the position I
was yet to hold in society, or how measure the degree of presumption by
which he aspired to my hand?
He has many excellent qualities of head and heart. I do not deny it; but
the deceit he thus practised on me I can never forget I do not desire
that you should tell him so. No, Kitty. The likelihood is that we may
never meet again; and I do not wish that one harsh thought should
mar the memory of the past! It may be that at some future time I can
befriend and serve him; and he may rest assured that no station of life,
however exalted and brilliant, will separate me from the ties of early
friendship. Even now, I am certain, Lord George would oblige me on his
behalf. Do you think, or could you ascertain, whether he would like
to go out as surgeon to a convict ship? They tell me that these
are excellent appointments, and admirably suited to young men of
enterprising habits and no friends; and that, if they settle in the
colony, they get several thousand acres of land, and as many natives as
they can catch. From what I can learn, it would suit P. B., for he was
always of a romantic turn, and fond of mutton.
How my wandering fancies have led me away! Where was I? Oh, in the
little vaulted chamber of the sacristan, with its quaint old wainscot
and its one narrow window, dim and many-paned! It was midnight before
we left it to return to our hotel, and then the streets were quite
deserted, and we walked along in silent thoughtfulness, I leaning on
Lord G.'s arm, and wishing--I know not well why--that we had two miles
to go!
We are stopping at the "Emperor," a very fine hotel that looks out upon
the Rhine, and, as my window overhangs the river, I sat and gazed upon
the rushing waters till nigh daybreak, occasionally adding a line
to this scrawl to my dearest Kitty, and then wafting a sigh to the
night-breeze as it stole along.
And now, at length, and after all these windings and digressions, X
come to what I promised to speak of in the early pail of this rambling
epistle. We were at breakfast on the morning after what Lord G. calls
our "cathedral service,"--for he persists in quizzing about it, and says
that pa was practising to become a "minor canon," when a very handsome
travelling-carriage drove up to the hotel door, attracting us all to
the windows by the noise and clatter. It was one of those handsome
britschkas, Kitty, that at once bespeak the style of their owner;
scrupulously plain and quiet,--almost Quaker-like in simplicity, but
elegant in form, and surrounded with all that luxury of cases and
imperials that show the traveller carries every indulgence and comfort
along with him.
There was no courier, but a very smartly dressed maid, evidently French,
occupied the rumble. While we stood speculating as to the new arrival,
Lord George broke out with a sudden exclamation of astonishment and
delight, and rushed downstairs. The next moment he was at the side of
the carriage, from which a very fair, white hand was extended to him.
It was very easy to see, by his air and manner, that he was on the most
intimate terms with the fair traveller; nor was it difficult to detect,
by the gestures of the landlord, that he was deploring the crowded state
of the hotel, and the impossibility of affording accommodation. As is
usual on such occasions, a considerable crowd had gathered,--beggars,
loungers, luggage-porters, waiters, and stablemen, who all eagerly poked
their heads into the carriage, and seemed to take a lively interest in
what was going forward, to escape from whose impertinent curiosity Lord
G. entreated the lady to alight.
To this she consented, and we saw a very elegant-looking person, in a
kind of half-mourning, descend from the carriage, displaying what James
called a "stunning foot and ankle" as she alighted. We had no time to
resume our seats at the breakfast-table, when Lord George rushed in,
saying, "Only think, there 's Mrs. Gore Hampton arrived, and not a place
to put her head in! Her stupid courier has, they say, gone on to Bonn,
although she told him she meant to stay some days here."
Now, my dearest Kitty, I blush to own that not one of us had ever heard
of Mrs. Gore Hampton till that hour, although unquestionably, from the
way Lord George announced the name, she was as well known in the great
world as Albert Prince of Wales and the rest of the Royal Family. We,
of course, however, did not exhibit our ignorance, but deplored and
regretted and sorrowed over her misfortune, as though it had been what
the "Times" calls "a shocking case of destitution."
"It just shows," said Lord George, as he walked hurriedly to and fro,
rubbing his hands through his hair in distraction, "that with every
accident of fortune that can befall human beings,--rank, wealth, beauty,
and accomplishment,--one is not exempt from the annoyances of life. If
a man were to have laid a bet at Brookes's, that Mrs. Gore Hampton would
be breakfasting in the public room of an hotel on the Rhine on such a
day, he 'd have netted a pretty smart sum by the odds."
"And is she?" cried three or four of us together. "Is that possible?"
"It will be an accomplished fact, as the French say, in about ten
minutes," cried he, "for there is really not a corner unoccupied in the
hotel."
We looked at each other, Kitty, for some seconds in silence, and then,
as if by a common impulse, every eye was turned towards papa. Whatever
his feelings, I cannot pretend to guess, but he evidently shrank from
our scrutiny, for he opened the "Galignani," and entrenched himself
behind it.
"I'm sure that either Mary Anne or Cary," broke in mamma, "would
willingly give up her room."
"Oh! delighted,--but too happy too oblige," cried we together. But Lord
George stopped us. "That's the worst of it; she is so timid, so fearful
of giving trouble, and especially when she is not acquainted, that I 'm
certain she could not bring herself to occasion all this inconvenience."
"But it will be none whatever. If she could be content with one room--"
"One room!" cried he,--"one room is a palace at such a moment But that
is precisely the value of the sacrifice."
We assured him, again and again, that we thought nothing of it; that the
opportunity of serving any friend of his--not to speak of one so
worthy of every attention--was an ample recompense for such a trifling
inconvenience. We became eloquent and entreating, and at last, I
actually believe, we had to importune him at least to give the lady
herself the choice of accepting our proposition.
"Be it so," cried he, suddenly; and, starting up, hurried downstairs to
convey our message.
When he had left the room, we sat staring at each other, as if
profoundly conscious that we had done something very magnanimous and
very splendid, and yet at the same time not quite satisfied that we had
done it in the right way. Mamma suggested that papa ought to have gone
down himself with our offer. _He_, on the contrary, said that it was
_her_ business, or that of one of the girls. James was of opinion that
a civil note would be the proper thing. "Mrs. Kenny James Dodd, of
Dodsborough, presents her respectful compliments," and so forth,--thus
giving us the opportunity of mentioning our ancestral seat, not to speak
of the advantage of rounding off a monosyllabic name with a sonorous
termination. James defended his opinion so successfully that I actually
fetched my writing-desk and opened it on the breakfast-table, when Lord
George flung wide the door, and announced "Mrs. Gore Hampton."
You may judge of our confusion, when I tell you that mamma was in her
dressing-gown and without her cap; papa in his shocking old flannel
_robe de chambre_, with the brown spots, which he calls his "Leprosy,"
and a pair of fur boots that he wears over his trousers, giving him the
look of the Russian ferryman we see in the vignette of "Elizabeth, or
the Exiles of Siberia;" Cary and I in curl-papers, and "not fastened;"
and James in a sailor's check shirt and Russia-duck trousers, with a red
sash round him, and an enormous pipe in his hand,--a picturesque group,
if not a pleasing one. I mention these details, dearest Kitty, less
as to any relation they bear to ourselves, than for the sake of
commemorating the inimitable tact of our accomplished visitor. To
any one of less perfect breeding the situation might have seemed
awkward,--almost, indeed, ludicrous. Mamma's efforts to make her scanty
drapery extend to the middle of her legs; papa's struggles to hide his
feet; James's endeavors to escape by an impracticable door; and Cary
and myself blushing as we tried to shake out our curls,--made up a scene
that anything short of courtly good manners might have laughed at.
In this trying emergency she was perfect. The easy grace of her
step, the elegant quietude of her manner, the courtesy with which she
acknowledged what she termed "our most thoughtful kindness," were actual
fascinations. It seemed as if she really carried into the room with her
an atmosphere of good breeding, for we, magically as it were, forgot all
about the absurdities of our appearance. Mamma thought no more of her
almost Highland costume, papa crossed his legs with the air of an old
elephant, and James leaned over the back of a chair to converse with
her, as if he had been a captain of the Coldstreams in full uniform. To
say that she was charming, Kitty, is nothing; for, besides being almost
perfectly beautiful, there is a grace, a delicacy, a feminine refinement
in her manner, that make you feel her loveliness almost secondary to her
elegance. It seemed, besides, like an instinct to her, the way she fell
in with all our humors, enjoying with keen zest papa's acute and droll
remarks about the Continent and the habits of foreigners, mamma's
opinions on the subject of dress and domestic economy, and James's
notions of "fast men" and "smart people" in general.
She repeatedly assured us that she concurred in everything we said, and
gave exactly the same reasons for preferring the Continent to England
that we did, instancing the very fact of our making acquaintance in this
unceremonious manner, as a palpable case in point. "Had we been at the
Star and Garter at Windsor, or the Albion at Brighton," said she,
"you had certainly left me to my fate, and I should not have been now
enjoying the privilege of an acquaintance that I trust is not destined
to end here."
Oh, Kitty! if you could but have heard the tone of winning softness with
which she uttered words simple as these. But, indeed, the real charm of
manner is to invest commonplaces with interest, and impart to the mere
nothings of intercourse a kind of fictitious value and importance. She
congratulated us so heartily on travelling _without_ a courier,--the
very thing we were at the moment ashamed of, and that mamma was trying
all manner of artifices to conceal. "It is so sensible of you," said
she, "so independent, and shows that you thoroughly understand the
Continent. Travelling as _I_ do,"--there was a sorrowful tenderness
as she said this, that brought the tears to my eyes,--"travelling as
I do,"--she paused, and only resumed after a moment of difficulty,--"a
courier is indispensable; but _you_ have no such necessity."
"And Grégoire apparently wants to show you how well you could do without
him," cried Lord George. "He has gone on to Bonn, and left you here to
your destiny."
"Oh, but he is such a good, careful old creature," said she, "that,
though he _does_ make fearful mistakes, I cannot be angry with him."
"It's very kind of you to say so," resumed he; "but if _I_ told him
that I meant to stop at Cologne, and _he_ went forward to order rooms at
Bonn, I 'd break his neck when we met."
"Then I assure you I shall do no such thing," added she, taking off her
gloves, as if to show how unsuited her beautifully taper fingers, all
glittering with gems, would be to any such occupation.
"And now you 'll have to wait here for Fordyce?" said he, half angrily.
"Of course I shall!" said she, with a sweet smile.
Lord George made some rejoinder, but I could not hear it, to this; and
so, Kitty, we all determined that instead of at once setting out for
Bonn, we should stay and dine with Mrs. Gore Hampton, and not leave her
till evening,--a kindness at which she really seemed overjoyed, thanking
each of us again and again for our "dear good-nature."
And now, Kitty, I have just left her to hasten off these lines by
post hour. My heart is yet fluttering with the delight of her charming
conversation, and my hand trembles as I write myself
Your ever attached and fascinated friend,
Mart Anne Dodd.
Hôtel de l'Empereur, Cologne.
P. S. Mrs. G. H. has just slipped, into my dressing-room to say that
she is so sorry that we are going away; that she feels as if we were
actually old friends already. She has, evidently, some secret sorrow;
would that I knew how to console her!
We are to write to each other; but I am not to show her letters to Cary:
this she made an express stipulation. She thinks Cary "a sweet girl, but
volatile;" and I believe, Kitty, that there is something of levity in
her character, which is its greatest defect.