The Dodd Family Abroad Volume I Part 9

There's nothing distresses me in it all but the Polka, Molly. I can't learn it. I always slide when I ought to hop, and where there 's a hop I duck down in spite of me! And whether it's the native purity of an Irishwoman, or that I never was reared to it, I can't say; but the notion of a man's arm round me keeps me in a flutter, and I 'm always looking about to see how K. I. bears it. I suppose, however, I 'll get through it well enough, for Lord George is to be my partner; and as I know K. I.'s "safe," my mind is more easy.

Perhaps it's the shortness of the invitation, but there's a great many apologies coming in. The English Amba.s.sador won't come. Lord G. says it's all the better, for the Tories are going out, and it will be a great service to K. I. with the Whigs if it's thought he did n't invite him! This may be true, but it's no reason in life for the Austrian, the French, the Prussian, and the Spanish Ministers sending excuses.

Lord George, however, thinks it's the terrible state of the Continent explains it all, and the Despotic Powers are so angry with Lord Dudley Stuart and Roebuck that they like to insult the English! If it be so, they haven't common-sense. Kenny James has taken a turn with all their parties, and much good it has done him!

Lord G. and Mary Anne are in high spirits, notwithstanding these disappointments, for "the Margravine" is coming,--at least, so he tells me; but whether the Margravine be a man or woman, Molly, or only something to eat, I don't rightly know, and I 'm ashamed to ask.

I have just been greatly provoked by a visit from Captain Morris, who called twice this morning, and at last insisted on seeing me. He came to entreat me, he says, "if not to abandon, at least to put off, our ball till Mr. Dodd's return." I tried to browbeat him, Molly, for his impertinent interference, but it would n't do; and he showed me that he knew perfectly well where K. I. was,--a piece of information that, of course, he obtained from Caroline. Oh, Molly dear, when one's own flesh and blood turns against them,--when children forget all the lessons you 've been teaching them from infancy,--it's a sore, sore trial! Not but I have reason to be thankful. Mary Anne and James are like part of myself; nothing mean or little-minded about _them_, but fine, generous, confiding creatures,--happy for to-day, hopeful for to-morrow!

When I mentioned to Lord G. what Morris came about, he only laughed, and said, "It was a clever dodge of the half-pay,--he wanted an invitation;"

and I see now that such must have been his object. The more one sees of mankind, the greater appears their meanness; and in my heart I feel how unsuited guileless, simple-hearted creatures like myself are to combat against the stratagems and ambuscades of this wicked world. Not that little Morris will gain much by his morning's work, for Mary Anne says that Lord George will never suffer him to get on full pay as long as he lives. "A friend in need is a friend indeed," Molly, more particularly when he's a lord.

The Margravine is a princess, Molly. I 've just found it out; for James is to receive her at the foot of the stairs, Mary Anne and myself on the lobby. Lord G. says she must have whist at half-"Nap." points, and always play with her own "Gentleman-in-Waiting." She never goes out on any other conditions. But he says, "She 's cheap even at that price, for an occasion like the present;" and maybe he's right.

No more now, for my gown is come to be tried on.

Dear Molly, I'll try and finish this, since, maybe, it's the last lines you 'll ever receive from your attached friend. Three days have elapsed since I put my hand to paper, and three such days, I 'll be bound, no human creature ever pa.s.sed. Out of one fit of hysterics into another, and taking the strongest stimulants, with no more effect than if they were water! My screeches, I am told, were dreadful, and there 's scarcely one of the family can't show the mark of my nails; and this is what K. I. has brought me to. _You_ know well what I used to suffer from him at Dodsborough, and the terrible scenes we always had when the Christmas bills came in; but it's all nothing, Molly, to what has happened here. But as my Uncle Joe said, no good ever came out of a "mess-alliance."

My moments are few so I 'll be brief. The ball was beautiful, Molly; there never was the like of it for elegance and splendor! For great names, rank, fashion, beauty, and jewels, it was, they tell me, far beyond the Court, because we had a great many people who, from political reasons, refuse to go to Leopold, but who had no prejudices against your humble servant; for, strange enough, they have Orangemen here as well as in Ireland! Princes, dukes, counts, and generals came pouring in, all shining with stars and crosses, blue and red ribbons, and keys worked on their coat-tails, till nearly twelve o'clock. There were, then, nigh seven hundred souls in the house, eating, dancing, drinking, and enjoying themselves; and a beautiful sight it was: everybody happy, and thinking only of pleasure. Mary Anne looked elegant, and many remarked that we must be sisters. Oh dear, if they only saw me now!

There was a mazurka that lasted till half-past one, for it's a dance that everybody must take out each in turn, and you 'd fancy there was no end to it, for, indeed, they never do seem tired of embracing and holding each other round the waist; but Lord George came to say that the Margravine had finished her whist and wanted her supper, so down we must go at once.

James was to take her Supreme Highness, and the Prince of Dammiseisen--a name that always made me laugh--was to take me; but he is a great man in Germany, and had a kingdom of his own till he was "modified" by Bonaparte, which means, as Lord George says, that "he took it out in money." But why do I dwell on these things? Down we went, Molly,--down the narrow stairs,--for the supper was laid out below; and a terrible crush it was, for, strange as it may seem, your grand people are just as anxious to get good places as any; and I saw a duke fighting his way in, just like old Ted Davis at Dodsborough!

When we came to the last flight of stairs, the crowd was awful, and the banisters creaked, and the wood-work groaned, so that I thought it was going to give way; and instead of James moving on in front, he pressed back upon us, and increased the confusion, for we were forced forward by hundreds behind us.

"What's the matter, James?" said I. "Why don't you goon?"

"I 'd rather be excused," said he. "It 's like Donnybrook Fair, down there,--a regular shindy!"

It was no less, Molly; for although the hall was filled with servants, there were two men armed with sticks, laying about them like mad, and fighting their way towards the supper-room.

"Who are those wretches?" cried I; "why don't they turn them out?"

The words weren't well out, my dear Molly, when the door gave way, and the two, trampling down all before them, pa.s.sed into the room. From that moment it was crash after crash! Lamps, l.u.s.tres, china, gla.s.s, plates, dishes, fruit, and confectionery flying on all sides! In less time than I 'm writing it, the table was cleared, and of the elegant temple there wasn't a bit standing. I just got inside the door to see the McCarthy arms in smithereens! and K. I.--for it was him!--dancing over them, with that little blackguard Paddy Byrne smashing everything round him! I went off into fits, Molly, and never saw more; and, indeed, I wish with all my heart that I never came to again, if what they tell me be only true.

K. I., it seems, no sooner demolished the supper than he set to work on the company. He s.n.a.t.c.hed off the Margravine's wig, and beat her with it, kicking Dammiseisen and two other princes into the street. They say that many of the n.o.bility leaped out of the first-pair windows, and one fat old gentleman, a chamberlain to the King of Bavaria, was caught by a lamp iron, and hung there for twenty minutes, with a mob shouting round him!

This all came of the Belgians letting out K. I. at one o'clock, which, according to their reckoning, was the end of his three days.

I 'm getting another attack, so I must conclude. We left Brussels the next morning, and arrived here the same night. I don't know where we are going, and I don't care. K. I. has never had the face to come near me since his infamous conduct, and I hope, for the little time I may be spared on this side of the grave, not to see him again. Mary Anne is in bed, too, and nearly as bad as myself; and as for Caroline, I wouldn't let her into the room! Lord George took James away to his own lodgings till K. I. learns to behave more like a Christian; but when that may be is utterly beyond

Your afflicted and disgraced friend,

Jemima Dodd.

Htel d'Angleterre, Lige.

Dear Molly, I open this to say that I have made my will; for, if Divine Providence doesn't befriend me, your poor Jemima will be in paradise before this reaches you! I have left you my black satin with the bugles, and my brown bombazine, which, when it is dyed, will be very nice mourning for common wear. I also bequeath to you the things you 'll find in the oak press in my own room, and ten silver spoons, and a fish-knife marked with the McCarthy arms, which, not to be too particular, I have put down in the will as "plate and linen." I leave you, besides, my book of "Domestic Cookery," "The Complete Housewife," and the "Way to Glory,"

by St. Francis Xavier. There are marks all through them with my own pen; and be particular to observe the receipt for snow pancakes, and the prayers for a "Plenary" after Candlemas.

It will be a comfort to your feelings to know that I am departing from this life in peace and charity with every one. Tell Mat I forgive him the fleece he stole out of the hayloft; and though he swears still he never laid hand on it, who else was there, Molly? You can give Kitty Hogan the old shoes in the closet, for, though she never wears any, she 'd like to have them for keepsakes! K. I. cared too little for my peace here to suppose that he will think of my repose hereafter, so that Father John can take the yearling calf and the two ewes out in ma.s.ses!

My feelings is overcoming me, Molly, and I can't go on!--breathing my last, as I am, in a far-away land, and sinking under the cruelty of a hard-hearted man!

I think it would only be a decent mark of respect to my family if the M'Carthy arms was hung up over the door, to show I was n't a Dodd. The crest is an angel sheltering a fox, or a beast like a fox, under his wing; but you 'll see it on the spoons. When you sell the piggs--maybe I ought n't to put two g's in them, but my head is wandering--pay old Judy Cobb two-and-sevenpence for the yarn, and say that I won't stop the ninepence out of Betty's wages. Maybe, when I 'm gone, they 'll begin to see what they 've lost, and maybe E. I. will feel it too, when he finds no b.u.t.tons on his shirts and the strings out of his waistcoat; and what's far worse, n.o.body to contradict him, and control his wilful nature! That's the very struggle that's killing me now! n.o.body knows, nor would believe, the opposition I 've given him for twenty years. But _he_ 'll feel it, Molly, and that before I'm six weeks in the grave.

I don't know my age to a day or a month, but you can put me down at thirty-nine, and maybe the "Blast of Freedom" would say a word or two about my family. I 'd like that far better than to be "deeply regretted," or "to the inexpressible grief of her bereaved relations."

I have made it a last request that my remains are to be sent home, and as I know K. I. won't go to the expense, he'll have to bear all the disgrace of neglecting my dying entreaty. That's my legacy to him, Molly; and if it's not a very profitable one, the "duty" will not be heavy.

Remember me affectionately to everybody, and say that to the last my heart was in my own country; and indeed, Molly, I never did hear so much good about Ireland as since we left it!

I have just taken a draught that has restored me wonderfully. It has a taste of curaoa, and evidently suits my const.i.tution. Maybe Providence, in his mercy, means to reserve me for more trials and misfortunes; for I feel stronger already, and am going to taste a bit of roast duck, with sage and onions. Betty has done it for me herself.

If I do recover, Molly, I promise you K. I. won't find me the poor submissive worm he has been trampling upon these more than twenty years!

I feel more like myself already; the "mixture" is really doing me good.

You may write to me to this place, with directions to be opened by Mary Anne, if I 'm no more. The very thought of it overwhelms me. The idea of one's own death is the most terrible of all afflictions; and as for me, I don't think I could ever survive it.

I mean to send for K. I., to take leave of him, and forgive him, before I go. I 'm not sure that I 'd do so, Molly, if it wasn't for the opportunity of telling him my mind about all his cruelty to me, and that I know well what he's at, and that he'll be married again before six months. That's the treachery of men; but there's one comfort,--they are well paid off for it when they marry--as they always do--some young minx of nineteen or twenty. It's exactly what K. I. is capable of; and I mean to show him that I see it, and all the consequences besides.

The mixture is really of service to me, and I feel as if I could take a sleep. Mary Anne will seal this if I 'm not awake before post hour. #

LETTER XIII. FROM K. I. DODD TO THOMAS PURCELL, ESQ., OF THE GRANGE, BRUFF

Lige, Tuesday Evening.

My dear Tom,--Your reproaches are all just, but I really have not had courage to wield a pen these last three weeks, nor have I now patience to go back on the past. Perhaps when we meet--if ever that good time is to come round again--I may be able to tell you something of my final exit from Brussels; but now with the shame yet fresh, and the disgrace recent, I cannot find pluck for it.

Here we are at what they call the "Pavilion," having changed from the Hotel d'Angleterre yesterday. You must know, Tom, that this same city of Lige is the noisiest, most dinning, hammering, hissing, clanking, creaking, welding, smelting, and furnace-roaring town in Europe.

Something like a hundred thousand tinkers are at work every day; and from an egg saucepan to a steam-boiler there is something to be hammered at by every capacity!

You would say that tumult like this might satisfy the most craving appet.i.te for uproar; but not so: the Ligeois are regular gluttons for noise, and they insist upon having Verdi's new opera of "Nabuchodonosor"

performed at their great theatre. Now, this same theatre is exactly in front of the Htel d'Angleterre, so that when, by dint of time, patience, and a partial dulness of the acoustic nerves, we were getting used to steam-factories and shot-foundries, down comes Verdi on us, with a din and clangor to which even the works of Seraing were like an _olian_ harp! Now, of all the Pretenders of these days of especial humbug, with our "Long ranges," Morison's pills and Louis Napoleons, I don't think you could show me a greater charlatan than this same Verdi.

I don't pretend to know a bit about music; I only knew two tunes all my life, "G.o.d save the King" and "Patrick's Day," and these only because we used to stand up and take off our hats to them in the Dublin theatre; but modulated, soft sounds have always had their effect on me, and I never heard a country girl singing as she beetled her linen beside a river's bank, or listened to the deep bay of an old fox-hound of a clear winter's morning, without feeling that there was something inside of me somewhere that responded to the note. But this fellow is all marrow-bones and cleavers! Trumpets, drums, big fiddles, and ba.s.soons are the softest things he knows. I take it as a providential thing that his music cracks every voice after one season; for before long there will be n.o.body left in Europe to sing him, except it be the steam-whistle of an express-train!

But we live in strange times, Tom, that's the fact. The day was when our operas used to be taken from real life,--or what authors and poets thought was real life. We had the "Maid of the Mill," and the "Duenna,"

and "Love in a Village," and a score more, pleasant and amusing enough; and except that there was nothing wrong or incomprehensible in them, perhaps they might have stood their ground. There was the great failure, Tom; everybody could understand them, and n.o.body need be shocked. Now, the taste is, puzzle a great many, and shock every one!

A grand opera now must be from the Old Testament. Not even drums and kettle-drums would save you, if you haven't Moses or Melchisedek to sit down in white raiment, and see some twenty damsels, with petticoats about as long as a lace ruffle, capering and att.i.tudinizing in a way that ought to make even a patriarch blush. Now, this is all wrong, Tom. The public might be amused without profanity, and even the most inveterate lover of dancing needn't ask David and Uriah for a _pas de deux_. And now, let me remark to you, that a great deal of that so-much-vaunted social liberty abroad is neither more nor less than this same lat.i.tude with respect to any and every thing. We at home were bred up to believe that good-breeding mainly consists in a certain reserve,--a cautious deference not alone for the feelings, but even the prejudices of others; that you have no right to offend your neighbor's sense of respect for fifty things that you held cheaply yourself. They reverse all this here. Everybody talks to you of yourself, ay, and of your wife and your mother, as frankly as though they were characters of the heathen mythology: they treat you like a third party in these discussions, and very likely it was a practice of this kind originally suggested the phrase of being "beside oneself."

You'll perhaps remark that my tone is very low and depressed, Tom; and I own to you I feel so. For a man that came abroad to enjoy himself, I am, to say the least, going a mighty strange way about it. The most rigid moralist couldn't accuse me of my epicurism, for I seem to be husbanding my Continental pleasures with a laudable degree of self-denial. Would you like a peep at us? Well, Mrs. D. is over there in No. 19, in bed with fourteen leeches on her temples, and a bottle as big as a black jack of camphor and sal-volatile beside her as a kind of table beverage; Mary Anne and Caroline are somewhere in the dim recesses of the same chamber, silent, if they 're not sobbing; James is under lock and key in No. 17, with Ollendorff's Method, and the Gospel of St. John in French; and here am I, trying to indite a few lines, with blast furnaces and bra.s.s instruments baying around me, and Paddy Byrne cleaning knives outside the door!