"This is my little account for your expenses at the hotel," said he,
presenting a hateful-looking strip of a foot and a half long.
"Another time,--no leisure for looking over that now!" said I, angrily.
"Whenever you please, Herr Graf," said he, with the same imperturbable
manner. "You will find it all correct, I 'm sure. This is the balance!"
And opening the bag he poured forth some gold and silver, which, when
counted, made up twenty-seven Napoleons, fourteen francs.
"And what's this?" cried I, almost boiling over with rage.
"Your balance, Herr Graf. All that is coming to you. If you will please
to look here--"
"Give me up that inventory,--that bill of sale," cried I, perfectly wild
with passion.
He only gave a grim smile, while, by a significant gesture, he showed
that the paper in question was in his breeches-pocket For a second, Bob,
I was so thoroughly beside myself with passion, that I determined to
regain possession of it by force. To this end I went to the door, and
locked it; but by the time I returned to him, I found that he had thrown
up the window and addressed some words to the people in the courtyard.
This brought me to my senses, so I counted over my twenty-seven Naps.,
placed the bill on the chimney-piece, unlocked the door, and told him
to go,--an injunction which, I assure you, he obeyed with such alacrity
that had I been disposed to assist his exit I could not have been in
time to do it.
For both our sakes I 'll not recall the state of mind in which this
scene left me. As to going an excursion with such a sum, or rather
with what would have remained of it after paying waiters, porters, and
such-like, it was too absurd to think of, so that I coolly put it in my
pocket, walked over to "the Rooms," threw it on the green cloth of
the gaming-table--and--lost it! There ends the episode of my last
fortnight's existence,--as dreary and disreputable a one as need be. As
to how I have passed the last four days I 'm not quite so clear! I
have walked some twenty-five or thirty miles in each, dining at little
wayside inns, and returning late at night to Baden.
Passing through picturesque glens, and along mountain ridges of
boldest outline, I have marked little. I remember still less. Still the
play-fever is abating. I can sleep without dreaming of the croupier's
chant, and I awake without starting at any imaginary loss! I feel as
though great bodily exertion and fatigue would ultimately antagonize the
excessive tension of nerves too long and too painfully on the stretch,
and I am steadily pursuing this system for a cure.
When I come home--after midnight--I add some pages to this long epistle,
which I sometimes doubt if I shall ever have courage to send you! for
there is this poignant misery about one's play misfortunes, you never
can expect a friend's sympathy, no matter how severe your sufferings be.
The losses at play are thoroughly selfish ills; they appeal to nothing
for consolation!
You will have remarked how I have avoided all mention of the family in
this epistle. The truth is, I scarcely ever see my mother or Mary Anne.
Caroline occasionally comes to me before I 'm up of a morning; but it is
to sorrow over domestic griefs of one kind or other. My father is still
away, and, strangely too, we do not hear from him; and, in fact, we are
a most ill-ordered, broken-up household, each going his own road, and
that being--in almost every case, I fear--a bad one.
This recital--if it be ever destined to come to hand--may possibly tend
to reconcile you to home life, and the want of those advantages which
you are so thoroughly convinced pertain to foreign travel. I know that
in my present mood I am very far from being an impartial witness, and
I am also aware that I am open to the reproach of not having cultivated
those arts which give to Continental residence its peculiar value; but
let me tell you, Bob, the ignorance with which I left home--the utter
neglect of education in youth--left me unable to derive profit from what
lay so seemingly accessible. You do not plate over cast-iron, and the
thin lacquer of gold or silver would never even hide the base metal
beneath. I haven't courage to go over and see Morris; and here I live,
perfectly isolated and companionless.
Tiverton writes me word that he 'll be back in a few days. He went
over to speak on the Jew Bill. He says that his liberal speech on
that measure "stood to him" very handsomely in Lombard Street He has
forwarded the report of his oration, but I have n't read it. His chief
argument in favor of admitting them into Parliament is, "There are so
few of them." It's very like the lady's plea,--of the child being a
little one. However, I don't think it signifies much one way or t'other;
but it seems strange to exclude men from legislation who claim for their
ancestor the first Lawgiver.
I shall be all eagerness to hear what success you have had for the
scholarship. You are a happy fellow to have heart and energy for an
honorable ambition; and that you may have "luck"--for that is requisite,
too--is the sincere wish of your attached friend,
James Dodd.
LETTER XXIX. CAROLINE DODD TO MISS COX AT MISS MINCING'S ACADEMY, BLACK ROCK, IRELAND
The Moorg Thal.
My dear Miss Cox,--How happy would you be if only seated in the spot
where I now write these lines! I am at an open window, the sill of which
is a great rock, all covered with red-brown moss, and beneath, again,
at some thirty feet lower, runs the clear stream of the Moorg River.
Two gigantic mountains, clad in pine forests to the summits, enclose the
valley, the view of which, however, extends to full two miles, showing
little peeps of farmhouses and mills along the river's bank, and high
upon a great bold crag, the ducal castle of Eberstein. The day is hot
but not sultry, for a light summer breeze is playing over the water,
and, high up, the clouds move slowly on, now casting broad masses of
mellow shadow over the deep-tinted forest.
The stream here falls over some masses of rock with a pleasant gushing
music that harmonizes well with the songs of the peasant girls, who are
what we should in Ireland call "beetling" their clothes in the water.
On the opposite bank some mowers are seated at their dinner, under the
shadow of a leafy horsechestnut-tree, and, far away in the distance, a
wagon of the newly cut hay is traversing the river; the horses stop to
drink, and the merry children are screaming their laughter from the top
of the load. I hear them even here.
That you may learn where I am, and how I have come hither, let me tell
you that I am on a visit with Mrs. Morris, the mother of Captain M., at
a little cottage they have taken for the season, about twelve miles from
Baden, in a valley called the Moorg Thal. If its situation be the very
perfection of picturesque choice, it contains within quite enough of
accommodation for those who occupy it. The furniture, too, most
simple though it be, is of that nice old walnut-wood, so bright
and mellow-looking; and our little drawing-room is even handsomely
ornamented by a richly carved cabinet and a centre-table, the support
of which is a grotesque dwarf with four heads. Then we have a piano,
a reasonably well-filled book-shelf, and a painter's easel, to which I
turn at intervals, as I write, to give a passing touch of light to
those trees now waving in the summer's wind, and which I destine, when
finished, for my dear, dear governess. All the externals of rural life
in Germany are highly picturesque,--I might almost call them poetic.
The cottages, the costume, the little phrases in use amongst the people,
their devotional offices, and, above all, their music, make up an ideal
of country life such as I scarcely conceived possible to exist.
There is, too, I am told,--for my imperfect knowledge of the language
does not permit me to state the fact of myself,--an amount of
information amongst the people seldom found in a similar class
throughout the rest of Europe. I do not mean the peasantry here, but
the dwellers in the small villages,--those, for instance, who follow
handicrafts and small trades, and who are usually great readers and
very acute thinkers. Denied almost entirely all access to that daily
literature of newspapers on which our people feed, they fall back upon
a very different class of writing, and are conversant with the works of
their great prose and verse writers. Their thoughts are thus idealized
to a degree; they themselves become assuredly less work-a-day and
practical, but their hopes, their aspirations, and their ambitions
take a higher flight than we could ever think possible from such humble
resting-places. Mrs. Morris, who knew Germany many years ago, tells
me that those fatal years of '48 and '49 have done them great injury.
Suddenly called upon to act, in events and contingencies of which they
derived all their knowledge from some parallels in remote history,
they rushed into the excesses of a mediæval period, as the natural
consequences of the position; and all the atrocities of bygone centuries
were re-enacted by a people who are unquestionably the most docile and
law-obeying of the whole Continent. They are now calming down again,
and there is every reason to think that, if, unshaken by troubles from
without or within, Germany will again be the happy land it used to be.
Forgive me, my dear Miss Cox, if I grow tiresome to you, by a theme
which now fills all my thoughts, and occupies so much of our daily
talking. Captain M. has gone to England on some important matter of
business, and the old lady is my only companion.
Oh, how you would like her! and how capable you would be of appreciating
traits and features of her mind, of which I, in my insufficiency, can
but dimly catch the meaning. She is within a year or two of eighty, and
yet with a freshness of heart and a brightness of intellect that would
shame one of _my_ age.
The mellow gayety of heart that, surviving all the trials of life, lives
on to remote age, hopeful in the midst of disappointments, trusting even
when betrayed, is the most captivating trait that can adorn our poor
nature. The spirit that can extract its pleasant memories from the past,
forgetting all their bitterness, is truly a happy one. This she seems to
do in all gratitude for what blessings remain to her, after a life not
devoid of misfortune. She is devotedly attached to her son, who, in
return, adores her. Probably no picture of domestic affection is more
touching than that subsisting between a man already past youth and his
aged and widowed mother,--the little tender attentions, the watchful
kindnesses on both sides, those graceful concessions which each knows
how and when to make of their own comfort, and, above all, that blending
of tastes by which, at last, each learns to adopt some of the other's
likings, and, even in prejudices, to become more companionable.
To me, the happiness of my present life is greater than I can describe
to you. The peaceful quietude of an existence on which no shocks obtrude
is unspeakably delightful. If the weather forbid us to venture abroad,
which on fine days we do for hours together, our home resources
are numerous. The little cares of a household, amusing as they are,
associated with so many little peculiar traits of nationality, help the
morning to pass; after which I draw, or write, or play, or read aloud,
mostly German, to the old lady. Whatever my occupation, be it at the
easel, the desk, or the pianoforte, her criticisms are always good and
just; for, strange to say, even on subjects of which she professes to
know nothing, there is an instinctive appreciation of the right; and
this would seem to result from an intense study, and deep love of
nature. She herself was the first to show me that this was a charm which
the Bible possessed in the most remarkable manner, and, unlike other
literature, gave it the most uncommon value in the eyes of the humblest
classes, who are from the very accidents of fortune the deep students
of nature. The language whose illustrations are taken from objects and
incidents that every peasant can confirm, has a direct appeal to a lowly
heart; and there is a species of flattery to his intelligence in the
fact that inspiration could not typify more strongly its conception than
by analogies open to the lowliest son of labor.
After this, she places Shakspeare, whose actual knowledge is miraculous,
and whose immortality is based upon that very fact, since the true will
be true to all ages and people; and, however men's minds may differ
about the forms of expression, the fact will remain imperishable.
According to her theory, Shakspeare understood human nature as learned
men do an exact science,--where certain results must follow certain
premises and combinations inevitably and of necessity. How otherwise
explain that intimate acquaintance with the habits and modes of thought
of classes of which he never made one? How account for the delineation
of kingly feelings by him who scarcely saw the steps of a throne? "And
yet," said Mrs. M., "Louis Philippe himself told me, that Shakspeare's
kings were as true as his lovers. His Majesty once amused me much," said
she, "by alluding to a passage in 'Hamlet,' which assuredly would
never have occurred to me to notice. It is where the King and Queen
are dismissing their attendants from further waiting. His Majesty says,
'Thanks, Rosenkrantz, and gentle Guildenstern;' on which the Queen
adds, 'Thanks, Guildenstern, and gentle Rosenkrantz.' 'Now,' said Louis
Philippe, 'one almost should have been a queen to know that it was
needful to balance the seeming preference of the Royal epithet, by
inverting the phrase.'"
While I ramble on thus, I may seem to be forgetting the subjects on
which more properly I ought to dwell,--home and family. Our pursuit of
greatness still continues, my dear Miss Cox. We are determined to
be fine people; and I suppose, after all, that our shortcomings and
disappointments are not greater than usually fall to the lot of those
who aspire to what is beyond or above them. In England the gradations
of rank are as fixed as the degrees of a service; and we, being who
and what we are, could no more pretend to something else than could a
subaltern pass off for a colonel to his own regiment. Here, however,
there is a general scramble for position, and each seems to have the
same privilege to call himself what he likes, that he exercises over
the mere spelling of his name. I judge this to be the case from the
anecdotes I have heard in society about the Count this, and the Baron
that. Since papa's absence in the interior of Germany, whither he
accompanied Mrs. Gore Hampton, to visit, I believe, some crowned head
of her acquaintance, mamma has pursued a kind of royal progress towards
greatness. Our style of living has been most expensive,--I might almost
call it splendid. We have servants, horses, equipage,--everything, in
fact, that appertains to a certain station, but one, and that one thing,
unfortunately, is the grand requisite of all,--the air that belongs to
it. The truth is, Miss Cox, as the old lawyer one day said at dinner
to papa, "You prove too much, Mr. Dodd." That is exactly what mamma is
doing. She dresses magnificently for small occasions; she insists too
eagerly upon what she deems her due; and she is far too exclusive with
respect to those who seek her acquaintanceship. Would you believe it,
that though I am permitted to accept the kind hospitality which I at
this moment enjoy, it is upon the condition that neither mamma nor Mary
Anne are to "be dragged into the mire of low intimacies;" that Mrs.
Morris is to be "Cary's friend." Proud am I, indeed, if she will deign
to consider me such!
I must acknowledge that mamma's "Wednesdays" collected all that was high
and distinguished at Baden. We had the old Kurfurst of something, with a
long white moustache, and thirty orders; an archduchess with a humpback,
and a mediatized prince with one eye. There were generals, marshals,
ministers, envoys, and plenipos without end,--"your Highness" and "your
Excellency" were household words round our tea-table. But I often asked
myself, "Are not these great folk paying off in falsehood the imposition
we are practising upon _them?_ Are they not laughing at the 'Dodds,' and
their thousand solecisms in good breeding?" These would be very unworthy
suspicions of mine if I did not feel convinced they were well founded;
but more than once I have overheard chance words and phrases that have
suffused my cheeks with "shame-red," as the Germans call it, for an hour
after. Is it not an indignity to accept hospitality and requite it by
ridicule? Is it not base to receive attentions, and repay them in scorn?
Whether it is from feeling as I do on the subject or not, I cannot say,
but James rarely or never appears at mamma's receptions. He is among
what is called "a fast set;" but I always incline to think that his
nature is not corrupted, though doubtless sullied, by the tone of
society around us.
You ask me about Mary Anne's appearance, and here I can speak without
reserve or qualification. She is, indeed, the handsomest girl I ever
saw; tall and well-proportioned, and with a carriage and a style about
her that might grace a princess. A critic inclined to severity might say
there was perhaps a slight tendency to haughtiness in the expression of
the features, especially the mouth; the head, too, is a little, a very
little, too much thrown back; but somehow these might be defects in
another, and yet in her they seem to give a peculiar stamp and character
to her beauty. All her gestures are grace itself, and her courtesy,
save that it is a little too low, perfect. She speaks French and German
fluently, and knows the precise title of some hundred acquaintances,
every one of whom would be distracted if defrauded in the smallest coin
of his rank. I need not say how superior all these gifts make her to
your humble and unlettered correspondent. Yes, my dear Miss Cox, the
French "irregulars" are the same puzzle to me they used to be, and
my mind will no more carry me on to the verb at the end of the German
sentence than will my feet bear me over fifty miles a day. I am the
stupid Caroline of long ago, and what renders the case so hopeless is,
with the best of dispositions to do otherwise.
I am, however, improved in my painting, particularly in my use of color.
I begin at last to recognize the merits of harmony in tint, and see how
Nature herself always contrives to be correct. I hope you will like the
little sketch that accompanies this; the rock in the foreground is the
spot on which I sit at every sunset. Would that I had you beside me
there, to counsel, to guide, and to correct me!
When Captain Morris returns, I shall leave this, as Mrs. M. will not
require my companionship any longer, although she is already planning
twenty things we are to do then.
Pray, therefore, write to me, as before, to Baden; and with my most
affectionate regards to all who may remember me, and my dearest love to
yourself,
Believe me, yours ever,
Caroline Dodd.