Dear Molly,--I send you herewith a letter for Tom Pur-cell, which you
'll take care to deliver with your own hands. If you are by when he
reads it, you 'll maybe perceive that it's not the "compliments of the
season" I was sending him. He says he likes plain speaking, and I trust
he is satisfied now.
You are already aware of the barbarous manner K. I. has behaved. I 've
told you how he deserted me and the family, and the disgrace that he has
brought down upon us in the face of Europe; for I must observe to you,
Molly, that whatever is talked of here goes flying over the whole world,
and is the common talk of every Court on the Continent. I could fill
chapters if I was to describe his wickedness and inhumanity. Well, my
dear, what do you think! but in the face of all this Mr. Tom Purcell
takes the opportunity to read me a long lecture on my "congenial"
duties, and to instruct me in what manner I am to treat K. I. on his
return.
Considering what he knows of my character, Molly, I almost suspect that
he might have spared himself this trouble. Did he, or did any one else,
ever see me posed by a difficulty? When did any event take me unawares?
Am I by nature one of those terrified creatures that get flurried
by misfortune; or am I, by the blessing of Providence, gifted in a
remarkable manner with great powers of judgment, matured by a deep
knowledge of life, and a thorough acquaintance with the wickedness of
the human heart? That's the whole question,--which am I? Is it after
twenty-six years' studying his disposition and pondering over all his
badness, that any one can come and teach me how to manage him? I know K.
I. as I know my old slipper; and, indeed, one is worth about as much as
the other! I have n't the patience--it would be too much to expect from
any one--to tell you how beautifully Mister Tom discourses to me about
the innocent freedoms of the Continent, and the harmless fragilities of
female life abroad! Does the old sinner believe in his heart that black
is white abroad? and would he have me think that what's murder in Bruff
was only a justifiable hom'-a-side at Brussels? If he doesn't meau that,
what does he mean? Maybe, to be sure, he 's one of the fashionable set
that make out that the husband is always driven to some kind of vice or
other by his wife's conduct! For, I must remark to you, Molly, there
's a set of people now in the world--they call themselves "The Peace
Congress," I think--that say there must be no more wars, no fighting,
domestically or nationally!
Their notion is this: everybody is right, and nobody need quarrel
with his neighbor, but settle any trifling disagreement by means of
arbitration. Mister Tom is, perhaps, an arbitrator. Well, I hope he
likes the office! Since I knew anything of life myself, I always found
that if there was three people mixed up in a shindy there was no hope of
settling it, on any terms.
He says, K. I. is coming home. Let him come, says I. Let him surrender
himself, Molly, and justice will take its course. That's all the
satisfaction I 'll give either of them.
"Don't be vindictive," says Mister Tom. Isn't that pretty language to
use to me, I ask? Is the Chief Justice "vindictive," Molly, when he
says, "Stand forward, and hear your sentence"? Is he behaving "unlike a
Christian" when he says, "Use the little time that's left you in making
your peace"?
The old creature then goes on to quote Scripture to me, and talks about
the prodigal son. "Very well," says I, "be it so. K. I. may be that if
he likes, but I 'll not be the fatted calf,--that's all!" The fact is,
Molly, I'm immutable as the Maids and Prussians. They may talk till they
're black in the face, but I 'll never forgive him!
Would n't it be a nice example, I ask, to the girls, if I was to
overlook K. I.'s conduct, and call it a "venal" offence? And this, too,
when the eyes of all Europe is staring at us. "How will Mrs. D. take
it?" says the Prince of this. "What will Mrs. D. say to him?" says the
Duke of that "Does _she_ know it yet?" asks the Archduke of Moravia.
That's the way they go on from morning till night; so that, in fact,
Molly,--as Lord George observes,--"he is less of a private culprit than
a great public malefactor."
There's the way I am forced to look on the case; and think more of the
good of society than of my family feelings.
Such are my sentiments, Molly, after giving to the case a most patient
and careful consideration; and it's little good in Tom Purcell's trying
to oppose and obstruct me.
If it were not for this unhappy event, I must own to you, Molly, that we
never enjoyed ourselves anywhere more than we do here. It's a scene of
pleasure and gayety all day,--and, indeed, all nightlong; and nothing
but the anticipation of K. I. 's return could damp the ardor of our
happiness. However it's managed, I can't tell; but the most elegant
balls and entertainments are given here free and for nothing! Who keep
up the rooms, pays for the lighting, the servants, and the refreshments,
is more than I can say. All I know is, that your humble servant never
contributed a sixpence to one of them. Lord George says that the Grand
Duke is never happy except when the place is crammed; and that he 'd
spend his last shilling rather than not see people amuse themselves.
And there's a Frenchman, too,--a Mr. Begasset, or Benasset, or something
like that,--who is so wild about amusement that he goes to any expense
about the place, and even keeps a pack of hounds for the public.
Contrast this, my dear Molly, with one of our little miserable
subscription balls at home, where Dan Cassidy, the dancing-master, is
driving about the country, for maybe three weeks, in his old gig, before
he can scrape together a matter of six or seven pounds, to pay for
mutton lights, two fiddles, and a dulcimer; and, after all, it's
perhaps over the Bridewell we 'd be dancing, and the shouts of the dirty
creatures below would be coming up at every pause of the music. Now,
here, it's like a royal palace,--elegant lustres, with two hundred
wax-lights in each of them,--a floor like glass. Ask Mary Anne if it
isn't as slippery! The dress of the company actually magnificent! none
of your little shabby-colored muslins, or Limerick lace; none of your
gauze petticoats, worn over glazed calico, to look like satin, but
everything real, Molly,--the lace, the silk, the satin, the jewels, the
gold trimmings, the feathers,--all the best of the kind, and fresh as
they came out of the shop. You don't see the white satin shoes with the
mark of a man's foot on them, nor the satin body with four fingers and
a thumb on the back of it, as you would at a Patrick's Ball in Dublin!
Everything is new for each night.
How Mary Anne laughs at the Irish notions of dress, of what they call in
the "Evening Post," "a beautiful lama petticoat over a white satin slip!"
or "a train of elegant figured tabinet." Why, Molly darling, you might
as well wear a mackintosh, or go out in a suit of glazed alpaca
cloth. Mary Anne says that the ball at the Castle of Dublin is like a
tournament, where all the company dance in armor; and, indeed, when
I think of the rattling of bead bracelets, false pearls, and Berlin
necklaces, it rather reminds me of a hornpipe in fetters!
I must confess to you, Molly, there 's nothing as low anywhere as
Dublin, and latterly, when anybody asks Mary Anne or me if it's
pleasant, we always say with a strong English accent, "Our military
friends say, vastly, but we really don't know ourselves." Is n't that a
pretty pass to be reduced to? But I 'm told that all the Irish, of any
distinction, are obliged to do the same, and never confess to have seen
more of Ireland than one does from the Welsh mountains. It's no want of
patriotism makes me say this. I wish, with all my heart, that Ireland
was a perfect paradise; and it's no fault of mine that Providence
intended otherwise.
If I was n't writing with my head so full of Tom Purcell and his late
impudence, I 'd have plenty to tell you about the girls and James. Mary
Anne is more admired than any girl here, and so would Cary, if she 'd
only let herself be so; but she has got a short, snubby, tart kind of
way with people, that never goes down abroad, where, as Lord G. says,
"every cat plays with his claws covered."
And as to Lord George himself, I wonder is it Mary Anne or Cary that
he's after. I watch him day by day, and can make nothing of it; but sure
and certain it is he means one of the two, and that is the reason why he
left this suddenly the other morning for England, and saying,--
"There 's no use letter-writing; I'll just dash over and have a talk
with my governor."
I would n't ask him about what, but I saw the way the girls looked down
when he spoke, and that was enough to show me in what quarter the wind
was blowing.
I wish from my heart and soul the proposal would come before K. I. came
back. I 'd like to have to show the superior way I have always managed
the family affairs; for I need n't tell you, Molly, that _he_ never had
an eye to the peerage for one of his daughters! but if he returns before
it's settled, he 'll say that he had his share in it all! As to James,
he is everything that a fond and doting mother could wish. Six feet two
and a half,--he grew the half since he came here,--with dark eyes, and a
pair of whiskers and moustaches that there's not the like here, dressed
in the very top of the fashion, with opal and diamond studs to his shirt
and waistcoat, and a black velvet paletot with turquoise buttons for
evening wear. The whole room turns to look at him wherever he goes, for
he walks along just for all the world as if he owned the place. You may
suppose, my dear Molly, how little he resembles K. I.; and, indeed, I
have heard many make the same remark when we were at Bonn.
I made Mary Anne write me down a list of the great people here who have
all called on us; but what 's the use of sending it, after all? You
could n't pronounce them if they were before you! I send you, however, a
bit I cut out of "Galignani's Messenger," where you 'll see that we are
put down amongst the distinguished visitors as "Madame M'Carthy Dodd,
family and suite!" James still thinks if K. I. would call himself
"The O'Dodd," it would serve us greatly; and Mary Anne agrees with the
opinion; and perhaps now, when he comes back under a cloud, as one may
say, it may not be so difficult to make him give in. As James remarks,
"Print it on your card, call out and shoot the first fellow that
addresses you as Mr.--make it no laughing matter for anybody, before
your face at least,--and the thing is done." Maybe we 'll live to see
this yet, Molly, but I fear it won't be till Providence sends for K. I.
I spoke rather sharply to Waters in my last; and I find now that the
legacy is paid into Latouche's. Will you remind Purcell that to be of
any use to me the money ought to be here? As to the Loan Fund, I wonder
how you have the face to ask me for anything, knowing the way I 'm in
for ready cash, and that I 'd rather borrow than lend any day. Tell
Peter Belton, also, that I stop my subscription after this year to the
Dispensary; and I am quite sure the old system of physic is nothing but
legalized poisoning. Looking to the facilities of the country, and the
natural habits of the people, I 'm convinced, Molly, that the water-cure
is what you want in Ireland; and I 've half a mind to write a letter to
one of the papers about it. Cheapness is the first requisite in a poor
country; and any one can vouch for it, water is n't a dear commodity
with you.
Father Maher's remarks upon poor Jones M'Carthy is, I must say, very
unfeeling; and I don't coincide with the conclusions he draws from them;
for if he was half as bad as he says, masses will do him little good;
and for a few thousand years, more or less, I can't afford to pay
fifty pounds! Ask him, besides, is it reasonable that when the price of
everything is falling, with Free-trade, that the old tariff of Purgatory
is to be kept up still? That would be downright absurd! Priests, my dear
Molly, must lower their rates, as the Protectionists do their rents:
that's "one of the demands of the age, and can't be resisted." As
Lord George says, "The Church, like the railroad people, fell into the
mistake of lavish expenditure! Purgatory was like a station, and ought
never to be made too costly. No one wants to live there: the most one
requires is to be decently comfortable, till you can 'go on.' What's the
use of fine furniture, elegant chairs and carpets? they 're clean thrown
away in such a place." If Father Maher thinks that the remarks are not
uttered in a respectful spirit, tell him he's wrong; for Lord G. and
all his family are great Whigs, and intend to do more mischief to the
Established Church than any party that ever was in power; and I
must say, I never heard Father Maher abuse Protestants, bigotry, and
intolerance more bitterly than Lord G. It is so seldom that one ever
hears really liberal sentiments, or anything like justice to Ireland,
I could listen to him for hours when he begins. If I 'm right in my
conjecture about the object of his journey to London, it will be the
making of James; since, once that we are connected with the aristocracy,
Molly, there's nothing we cannot have; for, you see, the way is this:
if you belong to the middle classes, they expect that you ought to have
some kind of fitness for the occupation you look for; and they say,
"This would n't suit you at all;" "That's not your line, in the least;"
but when you are one of the "higher orders," there's, so to say, a
general adaptiveness about you, and you can do anything they put before
you, from ranging Windsor Forest to keeping a lighthouse! When one
reflects upon that, it's no wonder that one of our great poets says,
"Oh, bless," or "preserve"--I forget which--"our old nobility!"
Go into any of the great public offices--the Foreign or the Colonial,
for instance--and they tell me that such a set of incapable-looking
creatures never was seen, with spy-glasses stuck in their eyes,
airing themselves before a big fire, and reading the "Times;" and yet,
Molly,--confess it we must,--the work is done somehow and by somebody.
It reminds me of a paper-mill I once saw; and no matter how dirty and
squalid the rags that went in, they came out "Beautiful fine wove," or
"Bath extra."
As to the questions in your last, I can't answer a tithe of them. You go
on, letter after letter, with the same tiresome demand,--"Are we as much
in love with the Continent as we were? Is it so cheap? Is the climate as
fine as they say? Is there never any rain or wind at all? Is everybody
polite and agreeable? Is there no such thing as backbiting or
slandering? Are all the men handsome and brave, and all the women
beautiful and virtuous?" This is but a specimen taken at random out
of your late inquiries; and I 'd like to know that if even you gave me
"notice of a question," as they do in the House, how could I satisfy
you on these points? The most I can do is to say that there may be some
slight exaggeration in one or two of these,--the rain, for instance, and
the virtue,--but that, generally speaking, the rest is all true. I
can be more explicit in regard to what you ask in your last
postscript,--"After living so long abroad, can we ever come back to
reside in Ireland?" Never, Molly, never! I make neither reserve nor
qualification in my answer. _That_ would be clearly impossible! for it's
not only that Ireland would be insupportable to us, but, as Mary Anne
remarks, "we would be insupportable to the Irish." Our walk, our dress,
our looks, our accent, our manner with men, and our way with women;
the homage we 're used to; the respect we feel our due; the topics
we discuss with freedom, and the range of our views generally over
life,--would shock the whole population from Cape Clear to the Causeway.
It's not easy for me to explain it to you, Molly; but, somehow,
everything abroad is different from at home. Not only the things you
talk of, but the way you talk of them, is quite distinct; and the whole
world of men, morals, and manners have quite another standard! It is
the same with one's thoughts as with their diet; half the things we like
best are only what is called acquired tastes. Trouble enough we often
have to learn them; but when once we do so, who'd be fool enough to go
back upon his old ignorance again? High society and genteel manners,
Molly, however you may like them when you are used to them, are just
like London porter,--mighty bitter when you first taste it. I know there
are plenty of people will tell you the contrary, and that they took
to it naturally like mother's milk; but don't believe them, it's quite
impossible it could be true.
Once for all, I beg to tell you that there's no earthly use in
tormenting and teasing us about the state the house is in at
Dodsborough; how the roof is broken here, and the walls given way there.
I trust sincerely that it may soon become perfectly uninhabitable, for I
never wish to see it again! I often think it would n't be a bad plan for
K. I. to go back and reside there. I 'm sure if he collected his rents
himself, instead of leaving all to Tom Purcell, it would be "telling
him something." You say that the country is getting disturbed again, and
that they're likely to have a "sharp winter for the landlords;" but
if it was the will of Providence anything should happen, I hope I have
Christian feelings to support me! Indeed, I'm well used to trials now!
It's a mistake, besides, Molly, to suppose that these--I hate to call
them "outrages," as the newspapers do--these little outbreaks of the
boys have any deep root in the country. The Orangemen, I know, would
make them out as a regular system, and say that it's an organized
society for murder; but it's no such thing. Father Maher himself told
me that he spoke against it from the altar, and said: "What a pass the
country has come to," says he, "that the poor laboring hard-working man
has no justice to right him, except his own stout heart and strong
arm!" What could he say more than that, Molly? But even these beautiful
expressions did n't save him from the "Evening Mail"!
The English are always boasting about their bravery and their courage,
and so on; and when any one says, "Why don't you buy property in
Ireland?" the answer is, "We 're afraid." I have heard it myself,
Molly, with my own ears. But their ignorance is even worse than their
cowardness, for if they only knew the people, they 'd see there was
nothing to be frightened at. Sure, I remember myself, when we lived
at Cloughmanus, Sam Gill came up to the house one morning, to say that
there was two men come from below Lahinch to shoot K. I.
"They have the passwords," says he, "and all the tokens, and though I
'm, your honor's man, I was obliged to take them into my house and feed
them."
"It's a bad business, Sam," says he. "What are they to get for it?"
"Five pound between them, sir,--if it's done complete."
"Would they take three," says K. I., "and let me live?"
"I don't know, sir; but, if you like, I'll ask them."
"I would like it, indeed," says K. I.
And down went Sam to the gate-house, and spoke to them. They were both
decent, reasonable men, and agreed at once to the offer. The money was
paid, and the two came up and ate a hearty breakfast at the house, and
K. I. walked more than a mile of the road with them afterwards,--talking
about the crops and the state of the country down westward,--and shook
hands with them cordially at parting.
Now, Molly, this is as true as the Bible, and yet there's people and
there's newspapers call the Irish "Irreclaimable savages." It is as big
a lie as ever was written! The real truth is, they don't know how,
if they really wished, to reclaim them! And after all, how little
reclaiming they need! To hear English people discuss Ireland, you 'd
suppose that it was the worst part of Arabia Felix they were describing.
But I have n't patience to go on; I fly out the moment I hear them, and
faith they 're not proud of themselves when I 'm done.
"I wish you were in the House, Mrs. Dodd," says one of them to me the
other night.
"I wish I was," says I; "if I would n't make it too hot for Slowbuck, my
name isn't Jemima! for he's the one that abuses us most of all!" Well,
I must say, we are well repaid for all the cruel treatment we receive at
home, by the kindness and "consideration," as they call it, we meet with
abroad! The minute a foreigner hears we 're Irish, he says, "Oh dear,
how sorry we are for your sufferings; we never cease deploring your hard
lot;" and to be sure, Molly, "wicked Old England," and the "Harlequin
Flag," as Dan called it, come in for their share of abuse. Besides these
advantages, I must remark that Catholics is greatly thought of on the
Continent; for it is n't as in Ireland, where 's it's only the common
people to mass. Here you may see royalty at their devotions. They sit in
little galleries with glass windows, which they open every now and then,
to take part in the prayers; and indeed, whatever rank and fashion is in
the place, you 're sure to see it "at church;" mind, Molly, at church,
for no educated Catholic even says "at mass."
You want to hear "all about the converts to our holy faith," you say,
but this is n't the place to get you the best information; but as I hope
we 'll pass the winter in Italy, I 'll maybe be able to give you some
account of them.
Lord George tells me that the Pope makes Rome delightful to strangers;
but whether it's "dinners" or "receptions," I don't know. At any rate, I
conclude he doesn't give "balls."
What a fuss they're making all over the world about these "rapparees,"
or refugees, or whatever they call them. My notion is, Molly, that we
who harbor them have the worst of the bargain; and as to our fighting
for them, it would be almost as sensible as to take up arms in defence
of a flea that got into your bed! Considering how plenty blackguards
are at home, I think it's nothing but greediness in us to want to take
Russian and Austrian ones! We have our own villains; and any one of
moderate desires might be satisfied with them! These are Lord G.'s
sentiments, but I 'm sure you like to hear the opinions of the
aristocracy on all matters.
What you say about Bony's marriage was the very thought that occurred to
myself, and it was just the turn of a pin whether Mary Anne was n't at
this moment Empress of France! Well, who knows what's coming, Molly!
There's many a one, now in a private station, and mighty hard up for
means, that will maybe turn out a King or a Grand-Duke before long. At
any rate, no elevation to rank or dignity will ever make me forget my
old friends, and yourself, the first of them. And with this, I subscribe
myself,
Yours ever affectionately,
Jemima Dodd McCarthy.
P. S. I 'll make one of the girls write to you next week, for I know I
'll be so much overcome by my feelings when K. I. arrives, that I 'll be
quite incapable to take up my pen.
I sometimes think that I 'll take to my bed, and be "given over."
against the day of his coming; for you see there 's nothing gives such
solemnity and weight to one's reproaches as their being last words. You
can say such bitter things, Molly, when you are supposed to be too weak
to bear a reply. But I 've done this once or twice before, and K. I. is
a hardened creature.
Lord G. says: "Treat him as if it were nothing at all, as if you saw him
yesterday: don't give him the importance of having irritated you. Be a
regular woman of fashion." If my temper would permit, perhaps this
would be best of all; but have I a right to acquit a "great public
malefactor"? That's a "case of conscience," Molly, that perhaps only the
Church could resolve. The saints direct me!
LETTER XXVIII. JAMES DODD TO ROBERT DOOLAN, ESQUIRE, TRINITY COLLEGE,
DUBLIN.
My dear Bob,--It is quite true, I am a shameful correspondent, and your
last three letters now before me, unanswered, comprise a tremendous
indictment against me; but reflect for a moment, and you will see that
in all complaints of this kind there is a certain amount of injustice,
since it is hardly possible ever to find two people whose tastes,
habite, and present circumstances place them on such terms of perfect
equality that the interchange of letters is as easy for one as the
other. Think over this for a moment, and you will perceive that sitting
down at your quiet desk, in "No. 2, Old Square," is a different process
from snatching a hurried moment amidst the din, the crash, and the
conflict of life at Baden; and if _your_ thoughts flow on calmly,
tinctured with the solemn influences around you, _mine_ as necessarily
reflect an existence checkered by every rainbow hue of good or evil
fortune.
Be therefore tolerant of my silence and indulgent to my stupidity, since
to transmit one's thoughts requires previously that you should think;
and who can, or ever could, in a place like this? Imagine a winding
valley, with wooded hills rising in some places to the height of
mountains, in the midst of which stands a little village--for it is no
more--nearly every house of which is a palace, some splendid hotel of
France, Russia, or England. You pass from these by a shady alley to
a little rustic bridge, over what might be, and very possibly is, an
excellent trout-stream, and come at once in front of a magnificent
structure, frescoed without and gilded and stuccoed within. "The Rooms,"
the Temple of Fortune, the ordeal of destiny, Bob, is held here; and the
rake of the croupier is the distaff of the Fate. Hither come flocking
the representatives of every nation of the world, and of almost every
class in each. Royalty, princely houses, and nobility with twenty
quarterings, are jostled in the indiscriminate crowd with houseless
adventurers, beggared spendthrifts, and ruined debauchees. All who can
contribute the clink of their Louis d'or to the music are welcome
to this orchestra! And women, too, fair, delicate, and lovely, the
tenderest flowers that ever were nursed within domestic care, mixed up
with others, not less handsome perhaps, but whose siren beauty is almost
diabolic by comparison. What a babel of tongues, and what confusion
of characters! The grandee of Spain, the escaped galley-slave, the
Hungarian magnate, the London "swell," the old and hoary gambler with
snow-white moustaches, and the unfledged minor, anticipating manhood by
ruining himself in his "teens." All these are blended and commingled by
the influence of play? and, differing as they do in birth, in blood, in
lineage, and condition, yet are they members of one guild, associates
of one society,--the gambling-table. And what a leveller is play! He who
whispers in the ear of the Crown Prince yonder is a branded felon from
the Bagnes de Brest; the dark-whiskered man yonder, who leans over the
lady's chair, is an escaped forger; the Carlist noble is asking friendly
counsel of a Christino spy; the London pickpocket offers his jewelled
snuff-box to an Archduke of Austria. "How goes the game today?" cries
a Neapolitan prince of the blood, and the question is addressed to
a red-bearded Corsican, whose livelihood is a stiletto. "Is that the
beautiful Countess of Hapsburg?" asks a fresh-looking Oxford man; and
his friend laughingly answers: "Not exactly; it is Mademoiselle Varenne,
of the Odéon." The fine-looking man yonder is a Mexican general, who
carried off the military chest from Guanaguato; the pompous little
fellow beside him is a Lucchese count, who stole part of the Crown
jewels of his sovereign; the long-haired, broad-foreheaded man, with
open shirt-collar, so violently denouncing the wrongs of injured Italy,
is a Russian spy; and the dark Arab behind him is a Swiss valet, more
than suspected of having murdered his master in the Mediterranean.
Our English contingent embraces lords of the bedchamber, members of
Parliament, railroad magnates, money-lending attorneys, legs, swells,
and swindlers, and a small sprinkling of University men, out to read
and be ruined,--the fair sex, comprising women of a certain fast set in
London, divorced countesses, a long category of the widow class, some
with daughters, some without. There is an abundance of good looks,
splendid dress, and money without limit! The most striking feature of
all, however, is the reckless helter-skelter pace at which every one is
going, whether his pursuit be play, love, or mere extravagance. There
is no such thing as calculation,--no counting the cost of anything. Life
takes its tone from the tables, and where, as wealth and beggary succeed
each other, so does every possible extreme of joy and misery, people
wager their passions and their emotions exactly as they do their
bank-notes and their gold pieces. Chance, my dear Bob,--chance is
ten times a more intoxicating liquor than champagne, and once take to
"dramming" with fortune, and you may bid a long adieu to sobriety! I do
not speak here of the terrible infatuation of play, and the almost utter
impossibility of resisting it, but I allude to what is infinitely worse,
the certainty of your applying play theories and play tactics to every
event and circumstance of real life.
The whole world becomes to you but one great green cloth, and everything
in it a question of luck! Will the bad run continue here? Will good
fortune stand much longer to you? These are the questions ever rising
to your mind. You grow to regard yourself as utterly powerless and
impassive; a football at the toe of Destiny! I think I see your eyebrows
upraised in astonishment at these profound reflections of mine. You
never suspected me of moralizing, nor, shall I own it, was I aware
myself that I had any genius that way. Shall I tell you the secret,
Bob,--shall I unlock the mysterious drawer of hidden motives for you? It
is this, then: I have been a tremendously heavy loser at Rouge-et-Noir!
As long as luck lasted, which it did for three weeks or more, I enjoyed
this place with a zest I cannot describe to you. The moralists tell us
that prosperity hardens the heart; I cannot believe it. I know at least,
that in my brief experience I never felt such a universal tenderness for
everything and everybody. I seemed to live in an atmosphere of beauty,
luxury, and splendor; every one was courteous; all were amiable! It
was not alone that fortune favored me, but I appeared to have the good
wishes of all beholders; words of encouragement murmured around me as I
won; soft bewitching glances beamed over at me, as I raked up my gold.
The very banker seemed to shovel out the shining pieces to me with a
sense of satisfaction! Old veterans of the tables peeped over me to
watch my game, and exclamations of wonder and admiration broke forth
at each new moment of my triumphs! I don't care what it may be that
constitutes the subject of display: a great speech in the House, a
splendid picture at the Gallery, a novel, a song, a spirited lecture, a
wonderful feat of strength or horsemanship; but there is an inward
sense of intoxication in being the "cynosure of all eyes"--the "one in
a thousand"--that comes very nigh to madness! Many a time have I screwed
up my hunter to a fence--a regular yawner--that I knew in my heart was
touch-and-go with both of us, simply because some one in the crowd said,
"Look how young Dodd will do it" I made some smashing ventures at
the "tables," under pretty similar promptings, and, I must say, with
splendid success.
"Are you always so fortunate?" asked a royal personage, with a courteous
smile towards me.
"And in everything?" sighs a gentle voice, with a look of such
bewitching softness that I forgot to take up my stake, and see it remain
on the board to double itself the next deal.
Besides all this, there is a grand magnificence in all your notions
under the access of sudden wealth. You give orders to your tradespeople
with a Jove-like omnipotence. You revel in the unbounded realms of
"I will." What signifies the cost of anything,--the most gorgeous
entertainment? It is only adding twenty Naps, to your next bet! That
rich bracelet of rubies--pshaw!--it is to be had for the turn of a card!
In a word, Bob, I felt that I had fallen upon the "Bendigo Diggins,"
without even the trouble of the search! I wanted fifty Naps, for
a caprice, and strolled in to win them, as coolly as though I were
changing a check at my banker's!
"Come, Jim, be a good fellow, and back me this time; I 'm certain to win
if you do," whispers a young lord, with fifteen thousand a year.
"Which side is Dodd on?" asked an old peer, with his purse in his hand.
"How I should like to win eighty Louis, and buy that roan Arab,"
whispers Lady Mary to her sister.
"I 'd rather spend the money on that opal brooch," murmurs the other.
"Egad! if I win this time, I 'll start for my regiment to-night,"
mutters a pale-looking sub., with a red spot in one cheek, and eyes
lustrous as if on fire.
Fancy the power of him who can accomplish these, and a hundred like
longings, without a particle of sacrifice on his own part! Imagine, my
dear Bob, the conscious rule and sway thus suggested, and ask yourself
what ecstasy ever equalled it! I possessed all that Peter Schlemihl
did, and had n't to give even my "shadow" in return. During these three
glorious weeks, I gave dinners, concerts, and suppers, commanded plays,
bespoke operas, patronized humbugs of all kinds, and headed charities
without number. As to presents of jewelry, I almost fancied myself a
kind of distributing agent for Storr and Mortimer.
The hotel stables were filled with animals of all kinds belonging to
me,--dogs, donkeys, horses, Spanish mules, and a bear; while every shape
and description of equipage crammed the coach-houses and the courtyard.
One of these, with a single wheel in front, and great facilities for
upsetting behind, was invented by a Baden artist, and most flatteringly
and felicitously called "Le Dod." Wasn't that fame for you, my boy?
Think of going down to posterity on noiseless wheels and patent
axles! Fancy being transmitted to remote ages on C springs and elastic
cushions! Such was the rage for my patronage that an ingenious cutler
had dubbed a newly invented forceps by my name, and I was introduced
into the world of surgery as a torture.
Now for the obverse of the medal. It was on that un-luckiest of all
days--a Friday--that fortune changed with me. I had lain all the morning
abed, after being up the whole night previous, and only went down to
"the Rooms" in the evening. As usual, I was accompanied by my train of
followers, lords, baronets, M. P.s, foreign counts and chevaliers,--for
I went to the field like a general, with his full staff around him! You
'll scarcely believe me when I tell you, Bob, but I say it in all truth
and seriousness, that so long as my star was in the ascendant, so long
as my counsels were what Homer would call "wealth-bestowing words,"
there was not an opinion of mine upon any subject, no matter how great
my ignorance of it might have been, that was not listened to with
deference and repeated with approval. "Dodd said so yesterday," "I hear
Dodd thinks highly of it," "Dodd's opinion is unfavorable," and so on,
were phrases that rang around me from every group I passed, and from
the "odds on the Derby" to the "division on the Budget," there was a
profound impression that my sentiments were worth hearing.
The pleasantest talkers in Europe, the wittiest conversera that ever
convulsed a dinner-party with laughter, would have been deserted and
forsaken to hear _me_ hold forth, whether the theme was art, literature,
law and politics, or the drama, or any other you please to mention, and
of which my ignorance was profound. My luck was unfailing. "Dodd never
loses," "Dodd has only to back it,"--these were the gifts which all
could acknowledge and profit by, and these no man undervalued or denied.
"Benasset"--this was the proprietor of the tables--"has been employing
his time profitably, Dodd, during your absence. He has made a great
morning of it,--cleared out the old Elector, and sent the Margraf of
Ragatz penniless to his dominions." This was the speech that met me as I
entered the door, and a general all hail followed it.
"Now you 'll see some smart play," whispered one to his newly come
friend. "Here 's young Dodd; we shall have some fun presently." Amid
these and similar murmurings I approached the tables, at which a place
for me was speedily made, for my coming was regarded by the company as a
good augury.
I could dwell long upon the sensations that then thronged my brain; they
were certainly upon the whole highly pleasurable, but not unmixed with
some sadness; for I already was beginning to feel a kind of contempt
for my worshippers, and for myself too, as the unworthy object of their
devotion. This scorn had not much leisure granted for its indulgence,
for the cards were now presented to me for "the cut," and the game
began.
As usual, my luck was unbroken. If I had doubled my stake, or by caprice
withdrew it altogether, it was the same. Fortune seemed to wait upon my
orders. Revelling in a kind of absolutism over fate, I played a thousand
pranks with luck, and won,--won on, as if to lose was an impossibility.
What strange fancies crossed my mind as I sat there,--vague fears,
shadowy terrors of the oddest kind, wild, dreamy, and undefined! Visions
of joy and misery; orgies, mad and furious with mirth, and agonizing
sights of misery, thoughts of men who had made compacts with the
Fiend, and the terrors that beset them in the midst of their voluptuous
abandonment; Belshazzar at his feast; Faust on the Brocken,--rose to my
mind, and I almost started up and fled from the table at one moment,
so impressed was I by these images! Would that I had! Would that I
had listened to that warning whisper of my good genius that was then
admonishing me!
My revery had become such at last that I really never saw nor heard what
went on about me. You can picture my condition to yourself when I
say that I was only recalled to self-possession by loud and incessant
laughter, that rang out on every side of me. "What 's the matter,--what
has happened?" cried I, in amazement. "Don't you perceive, sir," said
a bystander, "that you have broken the bank, and they are waiting for a
remittance to continue the play?"
[Illustration: 384]
So it was, Bob; I had actually won their last Napoleon, and there I sat
pushing my stake mechanically into the middle of the table, and raking
it up again, playing an imaginary game, to the amusement of that motley
crowd, who looked on at me with screams of laughter. I laughed, too,
when I came to myself. It was such a relief to me to join, even for a
moment, in any feeling that others experienced!
The money came at last. Two strongly clasped, heavily ironed coffers
were borne into the room by four powerful men. I watched them with
interest as they unlocked and poured forth their shining stores; for in
imagination they were already my own. I believe at that moment, if any
one had offered to assure me the winning of them "for fifty Naps.," that
I should have rejected the proposal with disdain, so impossible did it
seem to me that luck could desert me! Do you know, Bob, that what most
interested me at the time was the varied expressions displayed by the
company at sight of the gorgeous treasure before them? It was strange
to mark how little all their good breeding and fine manners availed to
repress vulgarity of thought and feeling, for there was greed or envy or
hatred, or some inordinate passion or other, on every face around; looks
of mild and gentle meaning became dashed with a half ferocity; venerable
old age grew fretful and impatient; youth lost its frank and careless
bearing; and, in fact, gain, and the lust of gain, was the predominant
and overbearing thought of every mind, and wish of every heart! I pledge
you my word, there was more animal savagery in the expressions on all
sides than ever I saw on a pack of yelping fox-hounds when the huntsman
held up the fox in the midst of them. It was the comparison that came
to my mind at the moment, and I repeat it, with the reservation that the
dogs behaved best.
There was an old careworn, meanly dressed man, with a faded blue ribbon
in his button-hole, seated in the place I usually occupied, and he arose
to give it to me with that mingled air of reluctance and respect which
it is so bard to resist. His manner seemed to say, "I am too poor and
too humble to contest the matter, but I 'd remain here if I could."
"So you shall, then," said I to myself, and pushed him gently down upon
the seat again.
"By Jove! the old fellow has got the lucky place," cried one in the
crowd behind me.
"Hang we, if Dodd has n't given up his old chair!" said another.
"I 'd rather have had _that_ seat," exclaimed a third, "than one at the
India Board."
But I only laughed at these absurd superstitions,--as though it were the
spot, and not myself, that Fortune loved to caress! As if to resent the
foolish credulity, I threw a heavy bet on the table, and lost it! Again
and again I did the same, with the like result; and now a murmur ran
through the room that luck had turned with me. I had given up my winning
seat, and was losing at every turn of the cards.
"Let _me_ have a peep at him," I beard one whisper to his friend behind.
"I 'd like to see how he bears it!"
"He loses remarkably well," muttered the other.
"Admirably!" said another. "He seems neither confident nor impatient; I
like the way he stands it."
"Egad, his hand trembles, though! He tore that banknote in trying to get
it out of his fingers!"
"His hand is hot, too,--see how the Louis stick to it!"
"They 'll not do so very long, depend on 't," said a close-shaved,
well-whiskered fellow, with a knowing eye; and the remark met an
approving smile from the bystanders.
"I have just added up his last fifteen bets," said a young man to a lady
on his arm, "and what do you think he has lost? Forty-eight thousand
francs,--close on two thousand pounds!"
"Quite enough for one evening!" said I, with a smile towards him, which
made both himself and his friend blush deeply at being overheard; and
with this I shut up my pocket-book, and strolled away from the tables
into another room, where there were chess and whist players. I took a
chair, and affected to watch the game with interest, my heart at the
moment throbbing as though it would burst through my chest. Don't
mistake, Bob, and fancy it was the accursed thirst for gold that
enthralled me. I swear to you that mere gain, mere wealth, never entered
into my thought at that moment. It was the gambler's lust--to be
the victor, not to be beaten--that was the terrible passion that
now struggled and stormed within me! I 'd like to have staked a
limb--honor--happiness--life itself--on the issue of a chance; for I
felt as though it were a duel with destiny, and I could not quit the
ground till one of us should succumb!
How poor and unsatisfying seemed the slow combinations of skill, as
I watched the chess-players! What miserable minuteness, what petty
plottings for small results!--nothing grand, great, or decisive! It was
like being bled to death from some wretched trickling vessel, instead
of meeting one's fate gloriously, amidst the roar of artillery and the
crash of squadrons!
I lounged into the _salons_ where they dance; it was a very brilliant
and a very beautiful assembly. There were faces and figures there that
might have proved attractive to eyes more critical than my own. My
sudden appearance amongst them, too, was rapturously welcomed. I was
already a celebrity; and I felt that amidst the soft glances and beaming
smiles around me, I had but to choose out her whom I would distinguish
by my attentions. My mother and the girls came to me with pressing
entreaties to take out the beautiful Countess de B., or to be presented
to the charming Marchioness of N. There was a dowager archduchess who
vouchsafed to know me. Miss Somebody, with I forget how many millions in
the funds, told Mary Anne she might introduce me. Already the master
of the ceremonies came to know if I preferred a mazurka or a waltz. The
world was, so to say, at my feet; and, as is usual at such moments, I
kicked it for being there. In plain English, Bob, I saw nothing in
all that bright and brilliant crowd but scheming mammas and designing
daughters; a universal distrust, an utter disbelief in everything
and everybody, had got bold of me. Whatever I could n't explain, I
discredited. The ringlets might be false; the carnation might be rouge;
the gentle timidity of manner might be the cat-like slyness of the
tiger; the artless gayety of heart, the practised coquetry of a
flirt,--ay, the very symmetry that seemed perfection, might it not be
the staymaker's! Play had utterly corrupted me, and there was not one
healthy feeling, one manly thought, or one generous impulse left within
me! I left the room a few minutes after I entered it. I neither danced
nor got presented to any one; but after one lounging stroll through the
_salons_ I quitted the place, as though there was not one to know, not
one to speak to! I have more than once witnessed the performance of this
polite process by another. I have watched a fellow making the tour of
a company, with a glass stuck in his eye, and his hand thrust in
his pocket. I have tracked him as he passed on from group to group,
examining the guests with the same coolness he bestowed on the china,
and smiling his little sardonic appreciation of whatever struck him as
droll or ridiculous; and when he has retired, it has been all I could do
not to follow him out, and kick him down the stairs at his departure.
I have no doubt that my conduct on this occasion must have inspired
similar sentiments; nor have I any hesitation in avowing that they were
well merited.
[Illustration: 388]
When I reached the open air I felt a delicious sense of relief. It was
so still, so calm, so tranquil! a bright starlit summer's night, with
here and there a murmuring of low voices, a gentle laugh, beard amongst
the trees, and the rustling sounds of silk drapery brushing through
the alleys,--all those little suggestive tokens that bring up one's
reminiscences of
"Those odorous boon
In jasmine bowers,
Or under the linden tree!"
But they only came for a second, Bob, and they left not a trace behind
them. The monotonous rubric of the croupier rang ever through my
brain,--"Faîtes votre jeu, Messieurs! "--"Messieurs, faîtes votre jeu!"
The table, the lights, the glittering gold, the clank of the rake, were
all before me, and I set off at full speed to the hotel, to fetch more
money, and resume my play.
I 'll not weary you with a detail, at every step of which I know that
your condemnation tracks me. I re-entered the play-room, secretly and
cautiously; I approached the table stealthily; I hoped to escape all
observation,--at least, for a time; and with this object I betted small
sums, and attracted no notice. My luck varied,--now inclining on this
side, now to that. Fortune seemed as though in a half-capricious mood,
and as it were undetermined how to treat me. "This comes of my own
miserable timidity," thought I; "when I was bold and courageous, she
favored me. It is the same in everything. To win, one must venture."
There was a vacant place in front of me; a young Hungarian had just
quitted it, having lost his last "Louis." I immediately took it. The
card on which he had been marking the chances of the game still lay
there. I took it up, and saw that he had been playing most rashly; that
no luck could possibly have carried a man safely through such a system
as he had followed.
I must let you into a little secret of this game, Bob, and do not be
incredulous of my theory, because my own case is a sorry illustration of
it. Where all men fail at Rouge-et-Noir, is from temper. The loser makes
tremendous efforts to repair his losses; the winner grows cautious with
success, and diminishes his stake. Now the wise course is, play low when
you see Fate against you, and back your luck to the very limit of the
bank. You ask, perhaps, "How are you to ascertain either of these facts?
What evidence have you that Fortune is with or against you?" As you are
not a gambler, I cannot explain this to you. It is part of the masonry
of the play-table, and every one who risks heavily on a chance knows
well what are the instincts that guide him.
I own to you, that though well aware of these facts, and thoroughly
convinced that they form the only rules of play, I soon forgot them
in the excitement of the game, and betted on, as caprice, or rather
as passion, dictated. We Irish are bad stuff for gamblers. We have the
bull-dog resistance of the Englishman,--his stern resolve not to
be beaten,--but we have none of his caution or reserve. We are as
impassioned as the men of the South, but we are destitute of that
intense selfishness that never suffers an Italian to peril his all. In
fact, as an old Belgian said to me one night, we make bad winners and
worse losers,--too lavish in one case, too reckless in the other.
I am not seeking excuses for my failure in my nationality. I accept
the whole blame on my own shoulders. With common prudence I might have
arisen that night a large winner; as it was, I left the table with a
loss of nigh three thousand pounds. Just fancy it, Bob,--five thousand
pounds poorer than when I strolled out after luncheon. A sum
sufficient to have started me splendidly in some career,--the army, for
instance,--gone without enjoyment, even without credit; for already
the critics were busily employed in analyzing my "play," which they
unanimously pronounced "badly reasoned and contemptible." There remained
to me still--at home in the hotel, fortunately--about eight hundred
pounds of my former winnings, and I passed the night canvassing with
myself what I should do with these. Three or four weeks back I had
never given a second thought to the matter,--indeed, it would never have
entered my head to risk such a sum at play; but now the habit of winning
and losing heavy wages, the alternations of affluence and want, had
totally mastered all the calmer properties of reason, and I could
entertain the notion without an effort. I 'll not tire you with my
reasonings on this subject. Probably you would scarcely dignify them
with the name. They all resolved themselves into this: "If I did not
play, I 'd never win back what I lost; if I did, I _might_." My mind
once made up to this, I began to plot how I should proceed to execute
it I resolved to enter the room next day just as the table opened, at
twelve o'clock. The players who frequented the room at that hour were
a few straggling, poor-looking people, who usually combined together to
make up the solitary crown-piece they wished to venture. Of course I had
no acquaintances amongst them, and therefore should be free from all
the embarrassing restraints of observation by my intimates. My judgment
would be calmer, my head cooler, and, in fact, I could devote myself to
the game with all my energies uncramped and unimpeded.
Sharp to the moment of the clock striking twelve, I entered the room.
One of the croupiers was talking to a peasant-girl at the window. The
other, seated on a table, was reading the newspaper. They both looked
astonished at seeing me, but bowed respectfully, not, however, making
any motion to assume their accustomed places, since it never occurred
to them that I could have come to play at such an hour of the morning. A
little group, of the very "seediest" exterior, was waiting respectfully
for when it might be the croupiers' pleasure to begin, but the
functionaries never deigned to notice them.
"At what hour are the tables opened?" asked I, as if for information.
"At noon, Monsieur le Comte," said one of the croupiers, folding up
his paper, and producing the keys of the strongbox; "but, except
these worthy people,"--this he said with a most contemptuous air
of compassion,--"we have no players till four, or even five, of the
afternoon."
"Come, then," said I, taking a seat, "I 'll set the virtuous fashion of
early hours. There go twenty Naps, for a beginning."
The dealer shuffled the cards. I cut them, and we began. _We_ I say;
because I was the only player, the little knot of humble folk gathering
around me in mute astonishment, and wondering what millionnaire they had
before them. If I had not been too deeply engaged in the interest of the
game, I should have experienced the very highest degree of entertainment
from the remarks and comments of the bystanders, who all sympathized
with me, and made common cause against the bank.
Some of them were peasants, some were small shopkeepers from distant
towns,--the police regulations exclude all natives of Baden, it being
the Grand-Ducal policy only to pillage the foreigner,--and one, a
half-starved, decrepit old fellow, had been a professor of something
somewhere, and turned out of his university to starve for having
broached some liberal doctrines in a lecture. He it was who watched me
with most eager intensity, following every alternation of my game with
a card and a pin. At the end of about an hour I was winner of something
more than two hundred pounds, and I sat betting on, my habitual stake of
five, or sometimes ten "Naps." each time.
"Get up and go away now," whispered the old man in my ear. "You have
done enough for once,--gained more in this brief hour than ever I did in
any two years of hard labor."
"At what trade did you work?" asked I, without raising my head from my
game.
"My faculty was the 'Pandects,'" replied he, gravely; "but I lectured in
private on history, philology, and chemistry."
Shocked at the rudeness of my question to one in his station, I muttered
some half-intelligible excuse; but he did not seem to suspect any
occasion for apology,--never recognizing that he who labored with head
could arrogate over him who toiled with his hands.
"There, I told you so," broke he in, suddenly. "You will lose all back
again. You play rashly. The runs of the game have been 'triplets' and
_you_ bet on to the fourth time of passing."
"So, then, you understand it!" said I, smiling, and still making my
stake as before.
"Let the deal pass; don't bet now," whispered he, eagerly.
"Herr Ephraim, I have warned you already," cried the croupier, "that
if you persist in disturbing the gentlemen who play here, you will be
removed by the police."
The word "police"--so dreadful to all German ears--made the old man
tremble from bead to foot; and he bowed twice or thrice in hurried
submission, and protested that he would be more cautious in future.
"You certainly do not exhibit such signs of good fortune on your own
person," said the croupier, "that should entitle you to advise and
counsel others."
"Quite true, Herr Croupier," assented he, with an attempt to smile.
"Besides that, if you reckon upon the Count's good nature to give you
a trifle when the game is over, you 'll certainly merit it better by
silence and respect now."
The old man's face became deep scarlet, and then as suddenly pale. He
made an effort to say something; but though his hands gesticulated,
and his lips moved, no sounds were audible, and with a faint sigh he
tottered back and leaned against the wall. I sprang up and placed him
in a chair, and, seeing that he was overcome by weakness, I called for
wine, and hastily poured a glassful down his throat. I could not induce
him to take a second, and he seemed, while expressing his gratitude, to
be impatient to get away and leave the place.
"Shall I see you home, Herr Ephraim?" said I; "will you allow me to
accompany you?"
"On no account, Herr Graf," said he, giving me the title he had heard
the croupier address me by. "I can go alone; I am quite able, and--I
prefer it."
"But you are too weak, far too weak to venture by yourself,--is he
not so?" said I, turning to the croupier to corroborate my words. A
strangely significant raising of the eyebrow, a sort of--I know not
what--meaning, was all the reply he made me; and half ashamed of the
possibility of being made the dupe of some practised impostor, I drew
nigh the table for an explanation.
"What is it? what do you mean?" asked I, eagerly.
A shrug of the shoulders and a look of pity was his answer.
"Is he a hypocrite?--is he a cheat?" asked I.
"Perhaps not exactly _that_," said he, shuffling the cards.
"A drunkard,--does he drink, then?" asked I.
"I have never heard so," said he.
"Then what has he done?--what is he?" cried I, impatiently.
He made a sign for me to come close, and then whispered in my ear what
I have just told you, only with a voice full of holy horror at the crime
of a man who had dared to have an opinion not in accordance with that of
a Police Prefect! That he--a man of hard study and deep reading--should
venture to draw other lessons from history than those taught at
drum-heads by corporals and petty officers!
"Is that all?--is that all?" asked I, indignantly.
"All all!" exclaimed he; "do you want more?"
"Why, these things may possibly interest police spies, but they have no
imaginable concern for me."
"That is precisely what they have, sir," said he, hastily, and in a
still more cautious tone. "You could not show that miserable man a
kindness without its attracting the attention of the authorities. They
never could be brought to believe mere humanity was the motive, and they
would seek for some explanation more akin to their daily habits. As an
Englishman, I know your custom is to treat these things haughtily, and
make every personal insult of this kind a national question; but the
inconvenience of this course will track you over the whole Continent.
Your passport will be demanded here, permission refused you to remain
there. At one town your luggage will be scrutinized, at another, your
letters opened. I conclude you come abroad to enjoy yourself. Is this
the way to do it? At all events, he is gone now," added he, looking down
the room, "and let's think no more of him. Messieurs, faîtes votre jeu!"
and once more rang out the burden of that monotonous injunction to ruin
and beggary!
I was n't exactly in the mood for high play at the moment; on the
contrary, my thoughts were with poor Ephraim and his sorrows; but, for
very pride's sake, I was obliged to seem indifferent and at ease. For I
must tell you, Bob, this cold, impassive bearing is the high breeding
of the play-table, and to transgress it, even for an instant, is a gross
breach of good manners. I have told you my mind was preoccupied; the
results were soon manifest in my play. Every "coup" was ill-timed. I was
always on the wrong color, and lost without intermission.
"This is not your 'beau moment,' Monsieur le Comte," said the croupier
to me, as he raked in a stake I had suffered to quadruple itself by
remaining. "I should almost say, wait for another time!"
"Had you said so half an hour ago," replied I, bitterly, "the counsel
might have been worth heeding. There goes the last of twenty thousand
francs." And there it did go, Bob! swept in by the same remorseless hand
that gathered all I possessed.
I lingered for a few moments, half stunned. I felt like one that
requires some seconds to recover from the effects of a severe blow, but
who feels conscious that with time he shall rally and be himself again.
After that I strolled out into the open air, lighted my cigar, and
turned off into a steep path that led up the mountain side, under the
cover of a dense pine forest. I walked for hours, without noticing the
way at either side of me, and it was only when, overcome with thirst,
I stooped to drink at a little fountain, that I perceived I had crossed
over the crest of the mountain, and gained a little glen at its foot,
watered by what I guessed must be a capital fishing-stream. Indeed, I
had not long to speculate on this point, for, a few hundred yards off,
I beheld a man standing knee-deep in the water, over which he threw his
line, with that easy motion of the wrist that bespeaks the angler.
I must tell you that the sight of a fly-fisher is so far interesting
abroad that it is only practised by the English; and although, Heaven
knows, there is no scarcity of them in town and cities, the moment you
wander in the least out of the beaten, frequented track of travel, you
rejoice to see your countryman. I made towards him, therefore, at once,
to ask what sport he had, and came up just as he had landed a good-sized
fish.
"I see, sir," said I, "that the fish are not so strong as in our waters.
You 'd have given that fellow twenty minutes more play, had he been in a
Highland tarn."
"Or in that brisk little river at Dodsborough," replied he, laughing;
and, turning round at the same time to sainte me, I perceived that it
was Captain Morris. You may remember him being quartered at Bruff, about
two years ago, and having had some altercation with my governor on
some magisterial topics. He was never much to my taste. I thought him
somewhat of a military prig, very stiff and stand off; but whether it
was the shooting-jacket _vice_ the red coat, or change of place and
scene, I know not, but now he seemed far more companionable than I could
have thought him. He was a capital angler too, and spoke of shooting and
deer-stalking like one passionately fond of them. I felt half ashamed
at first, when he asked me my opinion of the trout streams in the
neighborhood, and it was only as we warmed up that I owned to the
kind of life I had been leading at Baden, and the consequences it had
entailed.
"Fortunately for me, in one sense," said he, laughing, "I have always
been too poor a man to play at anything; and chess, which excludes all
idea of money, is the only game I know. But of this I am quite sure,
that the worst of gambling is neither the time nor the money lost upon
it; it is the simple fact that, if you ever win, from that moment forth
you are unfitted to the pursuits by which men earn their livelihood. The
slow, careworn paths of daily industry become insufferable to him who
can compass a year's labor by the turn of a die. Enrich yourself but
once--only once--at the play-table, and try then what it is to follow
any career of patient toil."
He had seen, he said, many examples of this in his own regiment; some
of the very finest fellows had been ruined by play, for, as he remarked,
"it is strange enough, there are few vices so debasing, and yet the
natures and temperaments most open to the seduction of the gaming-table
are very far from being those originally degraded." I suppose that his
tone of conversation chimed in well with my thoughts at the moment, for
I listened to all he said with deep interest, and willingly accepted his
invitation to eat some of his morning's sport at a little cottage, where
he lived, hard by. He had taken it for the season, and was staying
there with his mother, a charming old lady, who welcomed me with great
cordiality.
I dined and passed the evening with them. I don't remember when I
spent one so much to my satisfaction, for there was something more than
courtesy, something beyond mere politeness, in their manner towards me;
and I could observe in any chance allusion to the girls, there was a
degree of real interest that almost savored of friendship. There was
but one point on which I did not thoroughly go with Morris, and that
was about Tiverton. On that I found him full of the commonest and most
vulgar prejudices. He owned that there was no acquaintanceship between
them, and therefore I was able to attribute much, if not all, of
his impressions to erroneous information. Now I know George
intimately,--nobody can know him better. He is what they call in the
world "a loose fish." He's not overburdened with strict notions or rigid
principles; he 'd tell you himself, that to be encumbered with either
would be like entering for a rowing-match in a strait waistcoat; but
he is a fellow to share his last shilling with a friend,--thoroughly
generous and free-hearted. These are qualities, however, that men like
Morris hold cheap. They seem to argue that nobody stands in need of
such attributes. I differ with them there totally. My notion is that
shipwreck is so common a thing in life, it is always pleasant to think
that a friend can throw you a spare hencoop when you're sinking.
We chatted till the night closed in, and then, as the moon got up,
Morris strolled with me to within a mile of Baden.
"There!" said he, pointing to the little village, now all spangled with
its starry lights,--"there lies the fatal spot that has blighted many a
hope, and made many a heart a ruin! I wish you were miles away from it!"
"It cannot injure me much now," said I, laughing; "I am as regularly
'cleaned out' as a poor old professor I met there this morning, Herr
Ephraim."
"Not Ephraim Gauss?" asked he. "Did you meet _him?_"
"If that be his name,--a small, mean-looking man, with a white beard--"
"One of the first men in Germany--the greatest civilian--the most
learned Orientalist--and a man of almost universal attainment in
science--tell me of him."
I told him the little incident I have already related to you, and
mentioned the caution given me by the croupier.
"Which is not the less valuable," broke he in, "because he who gave it
is himself a paid spy of the police."