Dear Mr. Purcell,--Your letter is now before me, and if I did n't know
the mark of your hand before, I 'd scarce believe the sentiments was
yours. It well becomes you, one that but _one_ woman would ever accept
of, to lecture the likes of me on the way I ought to treat my husband. A
stingy old creature that sits croaking over an extra sod of turf on the
fire, and counts out the potatoes to the kitchen, is not exactly the
kind of authority to dictate laws to the respectable head of a family!
I often suspected the nature of the advice you gave K. I., but I did n't
think you 'd have the hardihood to come out with it _yourself_, and to
_me!_ How much you must have forgotten both of us, it's mighty clear!
Where did you get all the elegant expressions about K. I.'s "unavoidably
prolonged absence," "the sacrifices exacted from friendship," "the
generous ardor of a chivalrous nature," and the other fine balderdash
you bestow upon your friend's disgraceful behavior? Do you know what you
are talking about? Have you a notion about the affair at all? Answer me
that. Are you aware that he is now two months and four days away without
as much as a letter, except a bit of an impertinent note, once, to ask
are we alive or dead, not a sixpence in cash, not a check, nor even a
bill that we might try to get protested, or whatever they call it? I
don't make any illusions to why he went, and what he went for. I would
n't disgrace my pen with the subject, nor myself by noticing it; but,
except yourself, in the brown wig and the black satin small clothes, I
don't know one less suited to perform the "Lutherian." You are a nice
pair, and I expect nothing less than to hear of yourself next! And
you have the impudence to tell me that these are some of the "innocent
freedoms of Continental life"! What do you know about them, I 'd beg to
ask,--_you_, that never was nearer the Continent than Malahide? As to
the innocent freedoms of the Continent, there's nobody can teach me
anything; I see them before me in the day when I drive out, at the
_table d'hôte_ where I dine, and at every ball where they dance. Sweet
innocence it is, indeed! and particularly when practised by the father
of a grown-up family,--fifty-seven, he says, in June, but more likely
sixty odd, for I know many of his co-trumperies, and nice young
gentlemen they are too!
You assure me that you sympathize sincerely with K. I. I 've no
objection to that; he 'll need all the comfort it can give him when he
comes home again, or I 'm much mistaken. With the help of the saints, I
'll teach him the differ between going off with a lady and living with
his lawful wife. If he didn't know the distinction before, he shall now!
And then you think to terrify me about the state of his health. It won't
do, Mr. Tom Purcell. He 'll live to disgrace us this many a year. I
know well what his constitution can bear, and what he calls the gout
is neither more nor less than the outbreaks of his violent and furious
temper! Never flatter yourself, therefore, that you can make any of us
uneasy on that score; and if he comes back on a litter, it won't save
him.
Your "sincere regrets that we ever came abroad" are very elegantly
expressed, and require all my acknowledgments. Is n't there anything
else you are sorry for? Is n't it grief to you that we never caught the
smallpox, or that James was n't transported for forgery? We ought to
have stayed at Bruff; and, judging from the charms of your style, I have
no doubt that we might have derived great benefit from your vicinity.
You are eloquent, too, about expense; and add that you always believed
that there was no economy in living abroad. Perhaps not, sir, if one
unites foreign vices with home ones; but I beg to say, when we
left Dodsborough, I, for one, never contemplated the cost of _two_
establishments,--take that, Mr. Tom Purcell!
I wonder at myself how I keep my temper, and condescend to argue with
you about points on which an old bachelor, or widower (for it's the
same), must necessarily be ignorant. Don't you perceive that for you to
discourse on family matters is like a deaf man describing music?
And you wind up about the privileges of old friendship, and so on! It's
a new notion of friendship that makes a man impudent! Where did you ever
hear that knowing people a long time was a reason for insulting them?
As to your kind inquiries for the girls, I 'd have liked them as well if
not coupled with those "natural fears" for the consequences of foreign
contamination. Mary Anne and myself got a hearty laugh out of your
terrors; and so I forgive your mention of them.
James is quite well; and would, he says, be better, if that remittance
you spoke of had arrived.
You tell me that the McCarthy legacy is paid, and the money lodged at
Latouche's. But what's the use of that? It's here I want it. Find out a
safe hand, if you can, and send it over to me; for I 'm resolved to have
nothing to do with bills as long as I live.
And now I believe I have gone through the principal matters in your
last, and I hope given you my ideas as clearly as your own. It may save
you some time and stationery if I say that my mind is made up about
K.I.; and if it was Queen Victoria was interceding for him, I'd not
alter my sentiments. It's no use appealing "to the goodness of my heart,
and the feminine sweetness of my nature;" all that you say on that head
is only a warning to me not to let my weaknesses get the upper hand of
me: a lesson I will endeavor to profit by, so long as I write myself,
Your very obedient to command,
Jemima Dodd.