My dear Molly,--It is only since we came to the elegant place, the hard
name of which I have written at the top of this letter, that my
feelings have subsided into the calm seriousness adapted to epistolary
correspondence. From the day that K. I. returned, my life has been like
the parallax of a fever! The man was never possessed of any refined or
exalted sentiments; but the woman, this Mrs. G. H.--I could n't write
the name in full if you were to give me twenty pounds for it--made him
far worse with self-conceit and vanity. If you knew the way my time is
passed, "taking it out of him," Molly, showing him how ridiculous he is,
and why everybody is laughing at him, you 'd pity me. As to gratitude,
my dear, he hasn't a notion of it; and he feels no more thankful to
me for what I 've gone through than if I was indulging him in all his
nefarious propensities. It is a weary task; and the only wonder is how I
'm able to go on with it.
"Have n't you done yet, Mrs. D.?" said he, the other morning. "Don't you
think that you might grant me a little peace now?"
"I wish to the saints I had," said I; "it's bringing me to the grave,
it is; but I have a duty to perform, and as long as my tongue can wag, I
'll do it! When I 'm gone, K. I.," said I,--"when I 'm gone, you 'll not
have to say, 'It was her fault,--it was all her doing. Jemima never said
this; she never told me that.'" I vow and declare to you here, Molly,
that there is n't a thing a woman could say to a man, that I haven't
said to him; and as I remarked yesterday, "If I have n't taken the
self-conceit out of you now, it is because it's grained in your
nature,"--I believe, indeed, I said, "in your filthy nature."
When we left Baden, we came to a place called Rastadt, a great
fortification that they 're making, as they tell me, to defend the
Rhine; but, between ourselves, it's as far from the river as our house
at Dodsborough is from Kelly's mills. There we stopped three weeks,--I
believe in the confident hope of K. I. that I could n't survive the
uproarious tumult. They were drilling or training horses, or firing
guns, or flogging recruits under our windows, from sunrise to sunset;
and although at first the novelty was, amusing, you grew, at last, so
tormented and teased with the noise that your very brain ached from it.
"I wonder," said I, one night, "that you never thought of taking
furnished apartments in Barrack Street! It ought to be to your taste."
"It's not unlikely, ma'am, that I may end my days in that neighborhood,"
said he, tartly, "for I believe it's very convenient to the sheriff's
prison."
"I was alluding to your military tastes," said I. "One might suppose you
were meant for a great general."
"I might have claim to the character, ma'am," said he, "if being always
under fire signified anything,--always exposed to attack."
"Oh, but," said I, "you forget she has retired her forces,"--I meant
Mrs. G., Molly; "she took pity on your poor unprotected situation!"
"Look now, Mrs. D.," said he, with a blow of his fist on the table, "if
there 's another word--one syllable more on this matter, may I never
sign my name K. I. again, if I don't walk you back, every one of you, to
Dodsborough! It was an evil hour that saw us leave it, but it would be a
joyous one that brings us back again."
When, he grows so brutal as that, Molly, I never utter a word. 'T is n't
to-day nor yesterday that I learned to be a martyr; so that all I did
was to wait a minute or two, and then go off in strong hysterics! and,
indeed, I don't know anything that provokes him more.
I give you this as a slight sample of the way we lived, with occasional
diversions on the subject of expense, the extravagance of James, his
idleness, and so forth; pleasant topics, and amusing for a family
circle. Indeed, Molly, I'm ashamed to own that my natural spirit was
beginning to break down under it. I felt that all the blood of the
M'Carthys was weak to resist such inhuman cruelty; and whether it was
the climate, or what, I don't know, but crying did n't give me the same
relief it used. I suppose the fact is that one exhausts the natural
resources of one's constitution; but I think I 'm not so old but that a
good hearty cry ought to be a comfort to me.
This is how affairs was, when, about a week ago, came a servant on
horseback, with a letter for K. I. I was sitting up at my window, with
the blinds down, when I saw the man get off and enter the inn, and the
first thought that struck me was that it was Mrs. G. herself sent him.
"I 've caught you," says I to myself; and throwing on my dressing-gown,
I slipped downstairs. It was K. I. and James were together talking, so
I just waited a second at the door to listen. "If I had a voice in the
family,"--it was K. I. said this,--"if I had a voice in the family,"
said he, "I 'd refuse. These kind of things always turn out ill,--people
calculate so much upon affection; but the truth is, marrying for love
is like buying a pair of Russia-duck trousers to wear through the year.
They 'll do beautifully in summer, and even an odd day in the autumn;
but in the cold and rainy reason they 'll be downright ridiculous."
"Still," said James, "the offer sounds like a great one."
"All glitter, maybe. I distrust them all, James. At any rate, say
nothing about it to your mother till I think it over a bit."
"And why not say anything to his mother?" says I, bouncing into the
room. "Am I nobody in the family?"
"Bedad you are!" said K. I., with a heavy sigh.
"Haven't I an opinion of my own, eh?"
"That you have!" said he.
"And don't I stand to it, too!--eh, Kenny James?"
"Your worst enemy couldn't deny it!" said he, shaking his head.
"Then what's all this about?" said I, snatching the letter out of his
hands. But though I tried with my double eyeglass, Molly, it was no
use, for the writing was in a German hand, not to say anything of the
language.
"Well, ma'am," said K. I., with a grin, "I hope the contents are
pleasing to you?" And before I could fly out at him, James broke in:
"It's a proposal for Mary Anne, mother. The young Baron that we met at
Bonn makes her an offer of his hand and fortune, and invites us all to
his castle in the Black Forest as a preliminary step."
"Isn't that to your taste, Mrs. D.?" said K. I., with another grin.
"High connection--nobility--great family,--eh?"
"I don't think," said I, "that, considering the step I took myself in
life, anybody can reproach me with prejudices of that kind." The step I
took! Molly, I said the words with a sneer that made him purple.
"What's his fortune, James?" said I.
"Heaven knows! but he must have a stunning income. This Castle of
Wolfenfels is in all the print-shops of the town. It's a thing as large
as Windsor, and surrounded by miles of forest."
"My poor child," said I, "I always knew where you 'd be at last; and
it's only two nights ago I had a dream of taking grease out of my yellow
satin. I thought I was rubbing and scrubbing at it with all my might."
"And what did that portend, ma'am?" said K. I., with his usual sneer.
"Can't you guess?" said I. "Might n't it mean an effort to get rid
of the stain of a low connection?" Was n't that a home-thrust, Molly?
Faith, he felt it so!
"Mrs. D.," said he, gravely, and as if after profound thought, "this
is a question of our child's happiness for life-long, and if we are
to discuss it at all, let it be without any admixture of attack or
recrimination."
"Who began it?" said I.
"You did, my dear," said he.
"I did n't," said I; "and I 'm not 'your dear.' Oh, you needn't sigh
that way; your case isn't half so bad as you think it, but, like all
men, you fancy yourself cruelly treated whenever the slightest bar is
placed to your bad passions. You argue as if wickedness was good for
your constitution."
"Have you done?" said he.
"Not yet," said I, taking a chair in front of him.
"When you have, then," said he, "call me, for I 'll go out and sit
on the stairs." But I put my back to the door, Molly, so that he had
nothing for it but to resume his seat. "Let us move the order of the
day, Mrs. D.," said he,--"this business of Mary Anne. My opinion of it
is told in few words. These mixed marriages seldom succeed. Even with
long previous intimacy, suitable fortune, and equality of station,
there is that in a difference of nationality that opens a hundred
discrepancies in taste, feeling--"
"Bother!" said I, "we have just as much when we come from the same
stock."
"Sometimes," said he, sighing.
"Here's what he says, mother," said James, and read out the letter,
which I am bound to say, Molly, was a curiosity in its way; for though
it had such a strange look, it turned out to be in English, or at least
what the Baron thought was such. Happily there was no mistaking the
meaning; and as I said to K. I., "At least there 's one thing in the
Baron's favor,--there's neither deceit nor subterfuge about him. He
makes his proposal like a man!" And let me tell you, Molly, we live in
an age when even that same is a virtue; for really, with the liberties
that's allowed, and the way girls goes on, there 's no saying what
intentions men have at all!
Some mothers make a point of never seeing anything; but that may be
carried too far, particularly abroad, my dear. Others are for always
being dragons, but that is sure to scare off the men; and as I say,
what's the use of birdlime if you 're always shouting and screaming!
My notion is, Molly, that a moderate degree of what the French call
"surveillance" is the right thing,--a manner that seems to say, "I 'm
looking at you: I'm not against innocent enjoyments, and so forth, but
I won't stand any nonsense, nor falling in love." Many 's the time the
right man is scared away by a new flirtation, that meant nothing. "She's
too gay for _me_--she has a look in her eye, or a toss of the head, or
a--Heaven knows--I don't like."
"Does she care for him?" said K. I. "Does Mary Anne care for
him?--that's the question."
"Of course she does," said I. "If a girl's affections are not engaged in
some other quarter, she always cares for the man that proposes for her.
Is n't he a good match?"
"He as much as says so himself."
"And a Baron?"
"Yes."
"And has an elegant place, with a park of miles round it?"
"So he says."
"Well, then, I 'm sure I see nothing to prevent her being attached to
him."
"At all events, let us speak to her," said he, and sent James upstairs
to fetch her down.
Short as the time was that he was away, it was enough for K. I. to get
into one of his passions, just because I gave him the friendly caution
that he ought to be delicate and guarded in the way he mentioned the
matter to Mary Anne.
"Is n't she my daughter?" said he, with a stamp of his foot; and just
for that, Molly, I would n't give him the satisfaction to say she is.
"I ask you," cried he again, "isn't she my daughter?"
Not a syllable would I answer him.
"Well, maybe she is n't," said he; "but my authority over her is all the
same."
"Oh, you can be as cruel and tyrannical as you please," said I.
"Look now, Mrs. D.--" said he; but, fortunately, Molly, just at that
moment James and his sister came in, and he stopped suddenly.
"Oh, dearest papa," cried Mary Anne, falling at his feet, and hiding her
face in her hands, "how can I leave you, and dear, dear mamma?"
"That's what we are going to talk over, my dear," said he, quite dryly,
and taking a pinch of snuff.
"Your father is never overpowered by his commotions, my love," said I.
"To forsake my happy home!" sobbed Mary Anne, as if her heart was
breaking. "Oh, what an agony to think of!"
"To be sure it is," said K. I., in the same hard, husky voice; "but it's
what we see done every day. Ask your mother--"
"Don't ask me to justify it," said I. "_My_ experiences go all the other
way."
"At any rate you ventured on the experiment," said he, with a grin.
Then, turning to Mary Anne, he went on: "I see that James has informed
you on this affair, and it only remains for me now to ask you what your
sentiments are.
"Oh, my poor heart!" said she, pressing her hand to her side, "how can I
divide its allegiance?"
"Don't try that, at all events," said he, "for though I never thought
him a suitable match for you, my dear, if you really do feel an
attachment to Peter Belton--"
"Of course I do not, papa."
"Of course she does not--never did--never could," said I.
"So much the better," said he; "and now for this Baron von--I never can
remember his name--do you think you could be happy with him? Or do
you know enough of his temper, tastes, and disposition to answer that
question?"
"I 'm sure he is a most amiable person; he is exceedingly clever and
accomplished--"
"I don't care a brass bodkin for all that," broke in K. I. "A man may be
as wise as the bench of bishops, and be a bad husband."
"Let _me_ talk to Mary Anne," said I. It's only a female heart, Molly,
understands these cases; for men discuss them as if they were matters of
reason! And with that I marched her off with me to my own room.
I need n't tell you all I said, nor what she replied to me; but this
much I will say, a more sensible girl I never saw. She took in the whole
of our situation at once. She perceived that there was no saying how
long K. I. might be induced to remain abroad; it might be, perhaps,
to-morrow, or next day, that he'd decide to go back to Ireland. What a
position we 'd be in, then! "I don't doubt," says she, "but if time were
allowed me, I could do better than this. With the knowledge I have now
of life, I feel very confident; but if we are to be marched off before
the campaign begins, mamma, how are we to win our laurels?" Them's her
words, Molly, and they express her meaning beautifully.
We agreed at last that the best thing was to accept the invitation to
the castle, and when we saw the place, and the way of living, we could
then decide on the offer of marriage.
If I could only repeat to you the remarks Mary Anne made about this, you
'd see what a girl she was, and what a wonderful degree of intelligence
she possesses. Even on the point that K. I. himself raised a doubt,--the
difference of nationality and language,--she summed up the whole
question in a few words. Her observation was, that this very
circumstance was rather an advantage than otherwise, "as offering a
barrier against the over-intimacy and over-familiarity that is the bane
of married life."
"The fact is, mamma," said she, "people do not conform to each other.
They make a show of doing so, and they become hypocrites,--great
or little ones, as their talents decide for them,--but their real
characters remain at bottom unchanged. Now, married to a foreigner,
a woman need not even affect to assume his tastes and habits. She may
always follow her own, and set them down, whatever they be, to the score
of her peculiar nationality."
She is really, Molly, an astonishing girl, and in all that regards life
and knowledge of mankind, I never met her equal. As to Caroline, she
never could have made such a remark. The advantages of the Continent are
clean thrown away on her; she knows no more of the world than the day we
left Dodsborough. Indeed, I sometimes half regret that we did n't leave
her behind with the Doolans; for I observe that whenever foreign travel
fails in inculcating new refinement and genteel notions, it is sure to
strengthen all old prejudices, and suggest a most absurd attachment to
one's own country; and when that happens to be Ireland, Molly, I need
scarcely say how injurious the tendency is! It's very dreadful, my
dear, but it's equally true, whenever anything is out of fashion, in bad
taste, vulgar, or common, you 're sure to hear it called Irish, though,
maybe, it never crossed the Channel; and out of self-defence one is
obliged to adopt the custom.
On one point Mary Anne and myself were both agreed. It is next to
impossible for any one but a banker's daughter, or in the ballet, to get
a husband in the peerage at home. The nobility, with us, are either very
cunning or very foolish. As to the gentry class, they never think of
them at all. The consequence is, that a girl who wishes for a title must
take a foreigner. Now, Molly, German nobility is mightily like German
silver,--it has only a look of the real article; but if you can't afford
the right thing, it is better than the vulgar metal!
Mary Anne has declared, over and over again, that nothing would induce
her to be Mrs. Anybody. As she says, "Your whole life is passed in
a struggle, if not heralded by a designation, even though it only be
'Madame.'" And sure nobody knows this better than I do. Has n't the
odious name weighed me down for years past?
"Take him, then, my dear child," said I,--"take him, then, and may you
have luck in your choice! It will be a consolation to me, in all my
troubles and trials, to know that one of my girls at least sustains the
honor of her mother's family. You 'll be a baroness, at all events."
She pressed my hand affectionately, Molly, but said nothing. I saw
that the poor dear child was n't doing it all without some sacrifice or
other; but I was too prudent to ask questions. There 's nothing, in my
opinion, does such mischief as the system of probing and poking into
wounds of the affections; it's the sure way to keep them open, and
prevent their healing; so that I kept on, never minding, and only talked
of "the Baron."
"It will kill the Davises," said she, at last; "they'll die of spite
when they hear it."
"That they will," said I; "and they'll deny it to all the neighbors,
till it's copied into the country papers out of the 'Morning Post' What
will become of all their sneering remarks about going abroad now, I
wonder! Faith, my dear, you might live long enough at Bruff without
seeing a baron."
"I think Mr. Peter, too, will at last perceive the outrageous absurdity
of his pretensions," said she. "The Castle of Wolfenfels is not exactly
like the village dispensary."
In a word, my dear Molly, we considered the question in all its
bearings, and agreed that though we had rather he was a viscount, with
a fine estate at home, yet that the thing was still too good to refuse.
"It's a fine position," said Mary Anne, "and I'll see if I can't improve
it." We agreed, as Caroline was so happy where she was,--on a visit with
this Mrs. Morris,--that we 'd leave her there a little longer; for,
as Mary Anne remarked, "She's so natural and so frank and so very
confiding, she'll just tell everything about us, and spoil all!" And
it is true, Molly. That girl has no more notion of the difficulties it
costs us to be what we are, and where we are, than if she was n't one of
the family. She's a regular Dodd, and no more need be said.
The next day, you may be sure, was n't an idle one. We had to pack all
our things, to get a new livery made for Paddy Byrne, and to hire a
travelling-carriage, so that we might make our appearance in a style
becoming us. Betty, too, had to be drilled how she was to behave in a
great house full of servants, and taught not to expose us by any of her
outlandish ways. Mary Anne had her up to eat before her, and teach her
various politenesses; but the saints alone can tell how the lesson will
prosper.
We started from Rastadt in great style,--six posters, and a riding
courier in front, to order relays on the road. Even the sight of it,
Molly, and the tramp of the horses, and the jingle of the bells on the
harness, all did me good, for I 'm of a susceptible nature; and what
between my sensations at the moment, and the thought of all before us, I
cried heartily for the first two stages.
"If it overcomes you so much," said K. I., "don't you think you'd better
turn back?"
Did you ever hear brutality like that speech, Molly? I ask you, in all
your experience of life, did you ever know of any man that could make
himself so odious? You may be sure I did n't cry much after that! I made
it so comfortable to him that he was glad to exchange places with Betty,
and get into the rumble for the remainder of the journey.
Betty herself, too, was in one of her blessed tempers, all because Mary
Anne would n't let her stick all the old artificial flowers, that were
thrown away, over her bonnet. As Mary Anne said to her, "she only wanted
wax-candles to be like a Christmas-tree." The consequence was that she
cried and howled all the way, till we dined; after that she slept and
snored awfully. To mend matters, Paddy got very drunk, and had to be
tied on the box, and drew a crowd round us, at every place we changed
horses, by his yells. In other respects the journey was agreeable.
We supped at a place called Offenburg; and, indeed, I thought we 'd
never get away from it, for K. I. found out that the landlord could
speak English, and was, besides, a great farmer; and, in spite of
Mary Anne and myself, he had the man in to supper, and there they sat,
smoking, and drinking, and prosing about clover and green crops
and flax, and such things, till past midnight. However, it did one
thing,--it made K. I. good-humored for the rest of the way; for the
truth is, Molly, the nature of the man is unchanged, and, I believe,
unchangeable. Do what we will, take him where we may, give him all the
advantages of high life and genteel society, but his heart will still
cling to yearling heifers and ewes; and he'd rather be at Ballinasloe
than a ball at Buckingham Palace.
We ought to have been at Freyburg in time to sleep, but we did n't get
there till breakfast hour. I 'm mighty particular about all the names of
these places, Molly, for it will amuse you to trace our journey on the
celestial globe in the schoolroom, and then you'll perceive how we are
going "round the world" in earnest.
After breakfast we went to see the cathedral of the town. It is really
a fine sight; and the carving that's thrown away in dark, out-of-the-way
places, would make two other churches. The most beautiful thing of all,
however, is an image of the Virgin, sheltering under her cloak more than
a dozen cardinals and bishops. She is looking down at the creatures--for
they are all made small in comparison--with an angelical smile, as much
as to say, "Keep quiet, and nobody will see you." I suppose she wants
to get them into heaven "unknownst;" or, as James rather irreverently
expressed it, "going to do it by a dodge." To judge by their faces, they
are not quite at their ease; they seem to think that their case isn't
too good, and that it will go hard with them if they 're found out! And
I suppose, my dear Molly, that's the way with the best of us. Sure, with
all our plotting and scheming for the good of our children, after lives
of every kind of device, ain't we often masses of corruption?--isn't our
very best thoughts, sometimes, wicked enough? Them was exactly my own
meditations, as I sat alone in a dark corner of the church, musing and
reflecting, and only brought to myself as I heard K. I. fighting with
one of the "beagles"--I think they call them--about a bad groschen in
change!
"I'm never in a heavenly frame of mind, K. I." said I to him, "that you
don't bring me back to earthly feelings with your meanness."
"If you told me you were going to heaven, Mrs. D.," said he, "I would
n't have brought you out of it for worlds!"
It did n't need the grin that he gave, to show me what the meaning of
this speech was. The old wretch said as much as that he wished me dead
and buried; so I just gave him a look, and passed out of the church with
contempt. Oh, Molly, Molly, whatever may be your spire in life, never
descend from it for a husband!
You 'll laugh when I tell you that we left this place by the Valley of
Hell. That's the name of it; and so far as gloom and darkness goes,
not a bad name either. It is a deep, narrow glen, with only room for a
narrow road at the bottom of it, and over your head the rocks seem ready
to tumble down and crush you to atoms. Instead, too, of getting through
it as fast as we could, K. I. used to stop the carriage, and get out
to "examine the position," as he called it; for it seems that a great
French general once made a wonderful retreat through this same pass
years ago. K. I. and James had bought a map, and this they used to
spread out on the ground; and sometimes they got into disputing about
the name of this place or that, so that the Valley of Hell had its share
of torments for me and Mary Anne before we got out of it.
At a little lake called the "Titi See"--be sure you look for it on the
globe, and you'll know it by a small island in it with willow-trees--we
found that the Baron had sent horses to meet us, and eight miles more
brought us to the place of our destiny. I own to you, Molly, that I
could have cried with sheer disappointment, when I found we were in
the demesne without knowing it. I was always looking out for a grand
entrance,--maybe an archway between two towers, like Nockslobber Castle,
or an elegant cut-stone building, with a lodge at each side, like Dolly
Mount; but there we were, Molly, driving through deep clay roads, with
great fields of maize at each side of us, and neither a gate nor a
hedge,--not a bit of paling to be seen anywhere. There were trees
enough, but they were ugly pines and firs, or beech, with all the lower
branches lopped away for firewood. We had two miles or more of this
interesting landscape, and then we came out upon a great wide space
planted with mangel and beetroot, and all cut up with little drains, or
canals of running water; and in the middle of this, like a great, big,
black, dirty jail, stood the Castle of Wolfenfels. I give you my first
impressions honestly, Molly, because, on nearer acquaintance, I have
lived to see them changed.
I must say our reception drove all other thoughts away. The old Baron
was confined to his room with the gout, and could n't come down to meet
us; but the discharge of cannon, the sounds of music, and the joyful
shouts of the people--of whom there were some hundreds assembled--was
really imposing.
The young Baron, too, looked far more awake and alive than he used to do
at Bonn; and he was dressed in a kind of uniform that rather became
him. He was overjoyed at our arrival, and kissed K. I. and James on both
cheeks, and made them look very much ashamed before all the people.
"Never was my poor castle so much honored," said he, "since the King
of--somewhere I forget--came to pass the night here with my ancestor,
Conrad von Wolfenschafer; and that was in the sixth century."
"Begad, it's easy to see you have had no encumbered estates court," said
K. I., "or you would n't be here to tell us that."
"My ancestor did not hold from the King," said he. "He was not what you
call a vessel!"
K. I. laughed, and only said, "Faith, there's many of us mighty weak
vessels, and very leaky besides."
After that he conducted us through two lines of his menials.
[Illustration: 488]
"I do detest to have so many 'detainers'"--he meant retainers. "I hope
you are less annoyed in this respect."
"You don't dislike them more than I do," said K. I.; "the very name
makes me shudder."
"How your fader and I agree!" said he to Mary Anne. "We are one family
already."
And we all laughed heartily as we went to our rooms. Every country has
its own ways and habits, but I must say, Molly, that the furniture of
these castles is very mean. There were two children's beds for K. I. and
myself,--at least they did not look longer than the beds in the nursery
at home,--with what K. I. called a swansdown poultice for coverlid; no
curtains of any kind, and the pillows as big as a small mattress. Four
oak chairs, and a looking-glass the size of your face, and a chest of
drawers that would n't open, and that K. I. had to make serviceable
by lifting off the marble slab on the top,--this was all our room
contained. There were old swords and pikes hung up in abundance, and a
tree of the family history, framed and glazed, over the chimney,--but
these had little to do towards making the place comfortable.
"He's a good farmer, anyhow," said K. I., looking out of the window. "I
did n't see such turnips since I left England."
"I suppose he has a good steward," said I, for I began to fear that K.
I. would make some blunder, and speak to the Baron about crops, and so
forth.
"Them drills are as neat as ever I seen," said he, half to himself.
"Look now, K. I.," said I to him, gravely, "make your own remarks on
whatever you like, but remember where we are, and that it's exactly the
same as if we were on a visit to the Duke of Leinster at home. If you
must ask questions about farming, always say, 'How does your steward do
this?' 'What does he think of that?' Keep in mind that the aristocracy
does n't dirty its fingers abroad as it does in England, with
agricultural pursuits, and that they have neither prizes for cows nor
cottagers!"
"Mrs. D.," said he, turning on me like a tiger, "are you going to teach
me polite breeding and genteel manners?"
"I wish to the saints I could," said I, "if the lesson was only good for
a week."
"Look now," said he, "if I detect the slightest appearance of any
drilling or training of me,--if I ever find out that you want to impose
me on the world for anything but what I am,--may I never do any good if
I don't disgrace you all by my behavior!"
"Can you be worse?" said I.
"I can," said he; "a devilish deal worse."
And with that he went out of the room with a bang that nearly tore the
door off its hinges, and never came back till late in the evening.
We apologized for his not appearing at dinner by saying that he
felt fatigued, and requested that he might be permitted to sleep on
undisturbed; and as, happily, he did go to bed when he returned, the
excuse succeeded.
So that you see, Molly, even in the midst of splendor and greatness,
that man's temper, and the mean ways he has, keeps me in perpetual hot
water. I know, besides, that when he is downright angry, he never cares
for consequences, nor counts the damage of anything. He 'd just go down
and tell the Baron that we had n't a sixpence we could call our own;
that Dodsborough was mortgaged for three times its value; and that,
maybe, to-morrow or next day we 'd be sold out in the Cumbered Court.
He 'd expose me and Mary Anne without the slightest compunctuation, and
there 's not a family secret he would n't publish in the servants' hall!
Don't I remember well, when the 55th was quartered at Bruff, he used
to boast at the mess that he could n't give his daughters a farthing
of fortune, when any man with proper feelings, and a respect for his
position, would have made it seem that the girls had a snug thing quite
at their own disposal. Isn't the world ready enough, Molly, to detect
one's little failings and shortcomings, without our going about to put
them in the "Hue and Cry"? But that was always the way with K. I. He
used to say, "It's no disgrace to us if we can't do this;" "It's no
shame if we 're not rich enough for that" But I say, it is both a shame
and a disgrace if _it 's found out_, Molly. That's the whole of it!
I used to think that coming abroad might have taught him
something,--that he 'd see the way other people lived, and similate
himself to their manners and customs. Not a bit of it. He grows worse
every day. He's more of a Dodd now than the hour he left home. The
consequence is that the whole responsibility of supporting the credit of
the family is thrown upon me and Mary Anne. I don't mean to say that we
are unequal to the task, but surely the whole burden need n't be laid
upon our shoulders. That we are on the spot from which I write these
lines is all my own doing. When we first met the young Baron at Bonn, K.
I. tried to prejudice us against him; he used to ridicule him to James
and the girls, and went so far as to say that he was sure he was a low
fellow!
What an elegant blunder we 'd have made if we 'd took his advice! It's
all very fine saying he does n't "look like this "--or he has n't an
"air of that;" sure nobody can be taken by his appearance abroad. The
scrubbiest old snuffy creatures that go shambling about with shoes too
big for them, airing their pocket-handkerchiefs in the sun, are dukes or
marquises, and the elegantly dressed men in light blue frocks, all frogs
and velvet, are just bagmen or watering-place doctors. It takes time,
and great powers of discriminality, Molly, to divide the sheep from the
goats; but I have got to that point at last, and I 'm proud to say that
he must be a really shrewd hand that imposes upon your humble servant.
Long as this letter is, I 'd have made it longer if I had time, for
though we 're only a short time here, I have made many remarks to myself
about the ways and manners of foreign country life. The post, however,
only goes out once a week, and I don't wish to lose the occasion of
giving you the first intelligence of where we are, what we are doing,
and what's--with the Virgin's help--before us!
Up to this, it has been all hospitalities and the honors of the house,
and I suppose, until the old Baron is up and able to see us, we 'll hear
no more about the marriage. At all events, you may mention the matter in
confidence to Father John and Mrs. Clancey; and if you like to tell the
Davises, and Tom Kelly, and Margaret, I 'm sure it will be safe with
them. You can state that the Baron is one of the first families in
Europe, and the richest. His great-grandfather, or mother, I forget
which, was half-sister to the Empress of Poland, and he is related,
in some way or other, to either the Grand Turk, or the Grand-Duke of
Moravia,--but either will do to speak of.
All the cellars under the castle are, they say, filled with gold, in
the rough, as it came out of his mines, and as he lives in what might be
called an unostensible manner, his yearly savings is immense. I suppose
while the old man lives the young couple will have to conform to his
notions, and only keep a moderate establishment; but when the Lord takes
him, I don't know Mary Anne if she 'll not make the money fly. That I
may be spared to witness that blessed day, and see my darling child in
the enjoyment of every happiness, and all the pleasures of wealth, is
the constant prayer of your faithful friend,
Jemima Dodd.
P. S. If Mary Anne has finished her sketch of the castle, I'll send it
with this. She 'd have done it yesterday, but, unfortunately, she had
n't a bit of red she wanted for a fisherman's small-clothes,--for it
seems they always wear red in a picture,--and had to send down to the
town, eleven miles, for it.
Address me still here when you write, and let it be soon.
LETTER XXXVII. KENNY JAMES DODD TO THOMAS PURCELL, ESQ., OF THE GRANGE,
BRUFF.
The Castle of Wolfenfels.
My dear Tom,--I 'm glad old Molly has shown you Mrs. D.'s epistle,
which, independent of its other claims, saves me all the trouble of
explaining where we are, and how we came there. We arrived on Wednesday
last, and since that have been living in a very quiet, humdrum kind of
monotonous life, which, were it in Ireland, we should call, honestly,
tiresome; but as the scene is Germany and the Black Forest, I suppose
should be chronicled as highly romantic and interesting. To be plain,
Tom, we inhabit a big house--they call it a castle--in the midst of a
large expanse of maize and turnips, backed by a dense wood of pines. We
eat and drink in a very plain sort of over-abundant and greasy
fashion. We sleep in a thing like the drawer of a cabinet, with a large
pincushion on our stomachs for covering. We smoke a home-grown weed,
that has some of the bad properties of tobacco; and we ponder--at least
I do--of how long it would take of an existence like this to make a man
wish himself a member of the vegetable creation. Don't fancy that I'm
growing exorbitant in my demands for pleasure and amusement, nor believe
that I have forgotten the humdrum uniformity of my life at home. I
remember it all, and well. I can recall the lazy hours passed in the
sunshine of our few summer days; I can bring back to mind the wearisome
watching of the rain as it poured down for a spell of two months
together, when we asked each other every morning, "What's to become
of the wheat? How are we to get in the turf, if this lasts?" The
newspapers, too, only alternated their narratives of outrage with flood,
and spoke of bridges, mills, and mail-coaches being carried away in
all directions. I mention these to show you that, though "far from the
land," not a trait of it is n't green in my memory. But still, Tom,
there was, so to say, a tone and a keeping in the picture which
is wanting here. Our home dulness impressed itself as a matter of
necessity, not choice. We looked out of our window at a fine red-brick
mansion, two miles away,--where we 've drunk many a bottle of claret,
and in younger days danced the "White Cockade" till morning,--and we see
it a police-station, or mayhap a union. A starved dog dashes past the
door with a hen in his mouth; we recognize him as the last remnant of
poor Fetherstone's foxhounds, now broken up and gone. The smoke does n't
rise from the midst of the little copses of beech and alder, along the
river side; no, the cabins are all roofless, and their once inhabitants
are now in Australia, or toiling to enrich the commonwealth of America.
There is a stir and a movement going forward, it is true; but, unlike
that which betokens the march of prosperity and gain, it only implies
transition. Ay, Tom, all is changing around us. The gentry are going,
the middle classes are going, and the peasant is going,--some of their
free will, more from hard necessity. I know that the general opinion is
favorable to all this,--in England, at least The cry is ever, "Ireland
is improving,--Ireland will be better." But my notion is that by Ireland
we should understand not alone the soil, the rocks, and the rivers, but
the people,--the heart and soul and life-blood that made the island the
generous, warm-hearted, social spot we once knew it. Take away these,
and I no longer recognize it as my country. What matters it to me if the
Scotchman or the Norfolk farmer is to prosper where we only could exist?
My sympathies are not with _him_. You might as well try and console me
for the death of my child by showing me how comfortably some other man's
boy could sleep in his bed. I want to see Ireland prosper with Irishmen;
and I wish it, because I know in my heart the thing is possible and
practicable.
I 'm old enough--and, indeed, so are you--to remember when the English
used to be satisfied to laugh at our blunders and our bulls, and
ridicule our eccentricities; but the spirit of the times is changed,
and now they 've taken to rail at us, and abuse us, as if we were the
greatest villains in Europe. They assume the very tone the Yankee adopts
to the Red Man, and frankly say, "You must be extirpated!" Hence the
general flight that you now witness. Men naturally say, "Why cling to
a land that is no longer secure to us? Why link our destinies to a soil
that may be denied to us to-morrow?" And the English will be sorry for
this yet. Take my word for it, Tom, they 'll rue it! Paddy, by reason of
his poverty and his taste for adventure, and a touch of romance in his
nature, was always ready to enlist. He did n't know what might not turn
out of it. He knew that Wellington was an Irishman, and, faith, he had
only to read very little to learn that most of the best men came from
the same country. Luck might, then, stand to him, and, at all events, it
was n't a bad change from four-pence a day, stone-breaking!
Now, John Bull took another view of it. _He_ was better off at home.
He had n't a spark of adventure about him. His only notion of worldly
advancement led through money. You 'll not catch him becoming a soldier.
Every year will make him less and less disposed to the life. Cheapen
food and luxuries, reduce tariffs and the cost of foreign produce,
and the laborer will think twice before he 'll give up home and its
comforts, to be, as the song says,--
"Proud as a goat,
With a fine scarlet coat,
And a long cap and feather."
Turn over these things in your mind, Tom, and see if England has not
made a great mistake in eradicating the very class she might have
reckoned upon in any warlike emergency. Take my word for it, it is a
fine thing to have at your disposal a hundred thousand fellows who can
esteem a shilling a day a high premium, and who are not too well off in
the world to be afraid of leaving it! How did I come here at all? What
has led me into this digression? I protest to you solemnly, Tom, I don't
know. I can only say that my hand trembles, and my head throbs with
indignation, as I think over this insolent cant that tells us that
Ireland has no chance of prosperity save in ceasing to be Irish. It is
worse than a lie,--it is a mean, cowardly slander!
I must leave off this till my brain is calmer: besides, whether it is
the light wines I 'm drinking, or my anger has brought it on, but I 've
just got a terrible twinge of gout in my right foot.
Tuesday Evening.
I have passed a miserable twenty-four hours. They 've all the incentives
to gout in this country, and yet they don't appear to have the commonest
remedies against it. I sent Belton's recipe to be made up at the
apothecaries', and they had never as much as heard of one of the
ingredients! They told me to regulate my diet, and be careful to avoid
acids,--and this, while I was bellowing like a bull with pain. It was
like replying to my request for a shirt, by saying that they were going
to sow flax in August It 's their confounded cookery, and the vinegar we
wash it down with, has given me this!
The old housekeeper at last took compassion on my sufferings, and made
me up a kind of broth of herbs that nearly finished me. She assured
me that they all grew wild in the fields, and were freely eaten by the
cattle. I can only say it's well that Nebuchadnezzar was n't put out to
graze here! Sea-sickness was a mild nausea compared to it I 'm better
now; but so low and so depressed, and with such loss of energy, that in
a discussion with Mrs. D. about Mary Anne's "trousseau," as they call
it, I gave in to everything!
Since this attack seized me, events have made a great progress; indeed,
a suspiciously minded person would n't scruple to say that a mild poison
had been administered to me to forward the course of negotiations; and
in my heart and soul I believe that another bowl of the same broth would
make me consent to my daughter's union with the Bey of Tunis! The poor
old Dean of Lurra used to say of the Baths of Kreutznach, "I 've lost
enough flesh in three weeks to make a curate!"--and, indeed, when I look
at myself in the glass, I turn involuntarily around to see where's the
rest of me!
Meanwhile, as I said, all has been arranged and settled, and the
marriage is fixed for an early day in the coming week. I suppose it's
all for the best I take it that the match is a very great one; but I own
to you frankly, Tom, I 'd have fewer misgivings if the dear child was
going to be the wife of some respectable man of her own country, though
he had neither a castle to live in nor a title to bestow.
Foreigners are essentially and totally different from us in everything;
and marrying one of them is, to my thinking, the very next thing to
being united to some strange outlandish beast, as one reads of in fairy
tales. I suppose that my prejudice is a very mean and narrow-minded one;
but I can't get rid of it. It looks churlish and cold-hearted in me that
I cannot show the same joy on the occasion that the others display; but,
with all my efforts, and the very best will, I can't do it, Tom. The
bridegroom, too, is not to my taste: he is one of those moping, dreamy,
moonstruck fellows, that pass their lives in an imaginary sphere of
thought and action; and, to _my_ thinking, these people are distasteful
to the world at large, and insufferable to their wives.
I think I see that Mary Anne already anticipates he will prove a
stubborn subject. Her mother, however, gives her courage and support.
She gently insinuates, too, that worse cases have been treated
successfully. Lord help us, it's a strange world!
As to the material features of the affair,--I mean as regards means and
fortune,--he appears to have more than enough, yet not so much as to
prevent his giving a very palpable hint to me about what I intended
to give my daughter. He made the overture with a most laudable candor,
though, I own, with no excess of delicacy. James, however, had in a
manner prepared me for it, and mentioned that I was indebted for this
gratification, as I am for a variety of others, to Mrs. D. It seems
that, by way of giving a very imposing notion of our possessions, she
had cut the county map out of O'Kelly's old Gazetteer, and passed it
off for the survey of our estate. Of course I could n't disavow the
statement, and have been reduced to the pleasant alternative of settling
on my daughter about five baronies and twenty townlands of Tipperary,
with no inconsiderable share of villages and hamlets. Some old leases,
an insurance policy, and a writ against myself have served me for
title-deeds; and though the young Baron pores over them for hours with
a dictionary, thanks to the figurative language of the law, they have
defied detection!
The father is still too ill to receive me, but each day I am promised an
interview with him. Of what benefit to either of us it is to prove, may
be guessed from the fact that we cannot speak to each other. You will
perceive from all this, Tom, that I am by no means enamored of our
approaching greatness; and it is but fair to state that James is
even less so. He calls the Baron a "snob;" and probably, in all the
fashionable vocabulary of an enlightened age, a more depreciatory
epithet could not be discovered. What a sham and a humbug is all the
parade we make of our parental affection, and what a gross cheat, too,
do we practise upon ourselves by it! We train up a girl from infancy
with every care and devotedness,--we surround her with all the luxuries
our means can compass, and every affection of our hearts,--and we give
her away, for "better and for worse," to the first fellow that offers
with what seems a reasonable chance of being able to support her!
Many of us would n't take a butler with the scanty knowledge we accept a
son-in-law. His moral qualities, his disposition, the habits he has been
reared in,--what do we know of them? Less than nothing! And yet, while
we ask about these, and twenty more, of the man to whom we are about to
confide the key of our cellar, we intrust the happiness of our child
to an unknown individual, the only ascertained fact about whom--if even
that be so--is his income!
As I should like to tell you every step I take in this affair, I'll not
send off my letter till I can give you the latest information. Meanwhile
let me impress upon you that it is now three months since I received
a shilling from Ireland. James has just informed me that there is not
fifty pounds left of the McCarthy legacy, of which his mother only gave
him permission to draw for three hundred. The debate upon this, when
it comes, will be strong. What I intend is that immediately after Mary
Anne's marriage we should return to Ireland; but of course I reserve the
declaration for a fitting opportunity, since I well know how it will be
received. Cary would never marry a foreigner, nor would anything induce
me to consent to her doing so. James is only frittering away his best
years here in idleness and dissipation; and if I can get nothing for him
from the Government, he must emigrate to Australia or New Zealand. As
for Mrs. D., the sooner she gets home to Dodsborough the better for her
health, her means, and her morals!
I am afraid to say a word about Ireland and Irish affairs, for as sure
as I do I stick fast there; still I must say that I think you 're wrong
for abusing those members that have accepted office from Government. Put
it to yourself, my dear Tom; if anybody offered you fifty pounds for the
old gray mare you drive into market of a Saturday, would you set about
explaining that she was blind of an eye, and a roarer, with a splint
before, and a spavin behind? Would n't you rather expatiate upon her
blood and breeding, her endurance of fatigue, and her fine trotting
action? I don't know you if you would n't! Well, it's just the same with
these fellows. Briefless lawyers and distressed gentlemen as they are,
why should they say to the Ministry, "You're giving too much for us; we
can neither speak for you nor write for you; we have neither influence
at home, nor power abroad; we are a noisy, riotous, disorderly set of
devils, always quarrelling amongst ourselves, and never agreeing, except
when there 's a bit of robbery or roguery to be done; don't think of
buying _us_; it is a clear waste of public money; we 'd only disgrace
and not benefit you"? If anybody is to be blamed, it is the Ministers
that bought them, Tom.
As to all your disputed questions of education, tenant-right, and
taxation, take my word for it you have no chance of settling them
amicably; and for this reason: a great number of excellent men, on both
sides, have pledged themselves so strongly to particular opinions that
they cannot decently recant, and yet they begin to see many points in
a different view, and would, were the matter to come fresh before them,
treat it in another fashion. If you really wish to see Ireland better,
try and get people to let her alone for some fifteen or twenty years.
She is nearly ruined by doctoring. Just wait a bit, and see if the
natural goodness of constitution won't do more for her than all your
nostrums.
James has just interrupted me, to say that he has shot "the partridge,"
for it seems there was only one in the country. That's the fruits of
revolution. Before the year '48, this part of Germany abounded in game
of every sort--partridges, hares, and quails, in immense abundance,
besides plenty of deer on the hills, and that excellent bird the
"Auer-Hahn," which is like the black-cock we have at home. When the
troubles came, the peasants shot everything; and now the whole breed
of game is extinct. They tell me it is the same throughout Bohemia and
Hungary,--the two best sporting countries in all Europe. Foreigners were
never oppressed with game-laws as we are; there was a far wider liberty
enjoyed by them in this respect, and, in consequence, the privileges
were less abused; so that really the wholesale destruction is much to
be regretted. But is it not exactly what always follows in every case of
popular domination? The masses love excess, and are never satisfied with
anything short of it. I don't pretend to say that the Germans had not
good and valid reasons for being dissatisfied with their Governments.
I believe, in my heart, it would be difficult to imagine a more stupid
piece of ingenuous blundering than a German Administration; and this is
the less excusable when one thinks of the people over whom they rule.
The excesses of that same year of '48 will be the stock-in-trade for
these grinding Governments for many a day to come. It is like a "barring
out" to a cruel schoolmaster; the excuse for any violence he may wish to
indulge in. At the same time I say this, I tell you frankly that none
of the foreigners I have yet seen are fit for the system of a
representative Government. From whatever causes I know not, but they are
less patient, less given to calm investigation, than the English. Their
perceptions are as quick--perhaps quicker--but they will not weigh the
consequences of conflicting interests, and, above all, they will not put
any restrictions upon their own liberty for the benefit of the community
at large. Their origin, climate, traditions, and so forth, of course
influence them greatly; but I have a notion, Tom, that our domesticity
has a very considerable share in the formation of that temperate and
obedient spirit so observable amongst us. I think I see the sly dimple
that 's deepening in the corner of your mouth as you murmur to yourself,
"Kenny James is thinking of his Mrs. D. He's pondering over the natural
results of home discipline." But that is not what I mean, at least it
is not the whole of it. My theory is that a family is the best
training-school for the virtues that prosper in a well-ordered State,
and that the little incidents of home life have a wonderful bearing
upon, and similarity to, the great events that stir mankind.
I was going to become very abstruse and incomprehensible, I've no doubt,
on this theme, but Mrs. D. just dropped in with a small catalogue of
some three hundred and twenty-one articles Mary Anne requires for her
wedding.
I ventured to hint that her mother entered the connubial state with
a more modest preparation; and hereupon arose one of those lively
discussions now so frequent between us, in which, amidst other desultory
and miscellaneous remarks, she drew a graphic contrast between marrying
a man of rank and title, and "making a low connection that has forever
served to alienate the affection of one's family."
Will you tell me what peculiarity there is in the atmosphere, or the
food, or the electric influences abroad, that have made a woman that was
at least occasionally reasonable at home a most unmanageable fury on the
Continent? I don't want to deny that we had our little differences at
Dodsborough, but they were "tiffs,"---mere skirmishes,--but here they
are downright pitched battles, Tom. She will have it so, too. She won't
exchange a few shots and retire, but she comes up in line, with her
heavy artillery, and seems resolved to have a day of it! If this blessed
tour brought me no other pleasures than these, I 'd have reason to thank
it! You, of course, are quite ready to assert that the fault is as
much mine as hers,--that I provoke contradiction,--that I even invite
conflict! There you are perfectly in the wrong! I do, I acknowledge,
intrench myself in a strong position, and only fire an occasional shot
at any tempting exposure of the enemy; but she comes on by storm and
escalade, and, sparing neither age nor sex, never stops till she's in
the very heart of the citadel. That I come out maimed, crippled, and
disabled from such encounters, is not to be wondered at.
Amongst the other signs of progress of our enlightened age, a very
remarkable one is the habit, now become a law, for everybody with any
pretensions to the rank of a gentleman, to live in the same style, or,
at least, with as close an imitation as he can of it, as persons of
large fortune. Men like myself were formerly satisfied with giving their
friends a little sherry and port at dinner, continued afterwards, till
some considerate friend begged, "as a favor," for a glass of punch. Now
we start with Madeira after the soup, if you have n't had oysters and
chablis before, hock with your first _entrée_, and champagne afterwards,
graduating into Chambertin with "the roast," and Pacquarete with the
dessert, claret, at double the price it costs in Ireland, closing the
entertainment. Why, a duke cannot do more than Kenny Dodd at this rate!
To be sure the cookery will be more refined, and the wines in higher
condition. Moët will be iced to its due point, and Chateau Margaux will
be served in a carefully aired decanter; but the cost, the outlay, will
be fully as much in one case as the other. Have we--that is to say,
humble men like myself--gained by this in an intellectual or social
point of view? Not a bit of it! We have lost all that easy cordiality
that was native to us in our former condition, and we have not become as
coldly polite and elegantly tiresome as the grand folk.
The same system obtains in other matters. _My_ daughter must be dressed
on her wedding-day like Lady Olivia or Lady Jemima, who has a father a
marquis, and fifty thousand pounds settled on her for pin-money.
The globe has to become tributary to the marriage of Mary Anne! Cashmere
sends a shawl; Lyons, silk; and Genoa, velvet; furs from Hudson's Bay,
and feathers from Mexico; Valenciennes and Brussels contribute lace;
Paris reserving for her peculiar snare the architectural skill that
is to combine these costly materials, and construct out of them that
artistic being they call a "bride." Taking a wife with nothing "but the
clothes on her back" used to be the expression of a most disinterested
marriage. Now it might mean anything between Swan and Edgar's and Howell
and James's, or, to state it differently, between moderate embarrassment
and irretrievable ruin!
If you ask me how I am to pay for all this, or when, I tell you honestly
and fairly, I don't know. As well as I can make out the last accounts
you sent me, we 're getting deeper into debt every day; but as figures
always distract and puzzle me, I'd rather you'd put the case into
something like a statement in words, just saying when we may expect a
remittance, and how much it will be. I find that I shall lose the mail
if I don't cease at once; but I 'll send you a few lines by to-morrow's
post, as I have something important to say, but can't remember it now.
Yours, ever sincerely,
Kenny James Dodd.