LETTER XXV. KENNY DODD TO THOMAS PURCELL, ESQ., OF THE GRANGE, BRUFF.
Eisenach, "The Rue Garland."
Mr dear Tom,—You may see by the address that I am still here, although in somewhat different circumstances from those in which I last wrote to you. No longer "mi lor," the occupant of the "grand suite of apartments with the balcony," flattered by beauty, and waited on with devotion. I am now alone; the humble tenant of a small sanded parlor, and but too happy to take a very unpretending place at my host's table. I seek out solitary spots for my daily walks,—I select the very cheapest "Canastre" for my lonely pipe,—and, in a word, I am undergoing a course of "the silent system," accompanied by thoughts of the past, present, and the future, gloomy as ever were inflicted by any code of penitentiary discipline.
I know not if—seeing the bulk of this formidable despatch—you will have patience to read it: I have my doubts that you will employ somebody to "note the brief" for you, and only address yourself to the strong points of the case. Be this as it may, it is a relief to me to decant my sorrows even into my ink-bottle; and I come back at night with a sense of consolation that shows me that, no matter how lonely and desolate a man may be in the world, there is a great source of comfort in the sympathy he has for himself. This may sound like a bull, but it is not one, as I am quite ready to show. But my poor brains are not in order for metaphysics, and so, with your leave, I 'll just confine myself to narrative for the present, and keep all the philosophy of my argument for another occasion.
Lest, however, you should only throw your eyes carelessly over these lines and not adventure far into the detail of my sorrows, I take this early opportunity of saying that I am living here on credit,—that I have n't five shillings left to me,—that my shoemaker lies in wait for me in the Juden-Gasse, and my washerwoman watches for me near the church. Schnaps, snuff, and cigars have encompassed me round about with small duns, and I live in a charmed circle of petty persecutions, that would drive a less good-tempered man half-crazy. Not that I am ungrateful to Providence for many blessings; I acknowledge heartily the great advantage I possess in knowing nothing whatever of the language, so that I am enabled to preserve my equanimity under what very probably may be the foulest abuse that ever was poured out upon insolvent humanity.
My wardrobe is dwindled to the "shortest span." I have "taken out" my great-coat in Kirschwasser, and converted my spare small-clothes into cigars. My hat has gone to repair my shoes; and as my razors are pledged for pen, ink, and paper, I have grown a beard that would make the fortune of an Italian refugee, or of a missionary speaker at Exeter Hall!
My host of the "Rue Garland" hasn't seen a piece of my money for the last fortnight; and now, for the first time since I came abroad, am I able to say that I find the Continent cheap to live in. Ay, Tom, take my word for it, the whole secret lies in this,—"Do with little, and pay for less," and you 'll find a great economy in coming abroad to live. But if you cannot cheat yourself as well as your creditors, take my advice and stay at home. These, however, are only spare reflections; and I'll now resume my story, taking up the thread of it where I left off in my last.
It is really all like a dream to me, Tom; and many times I am unable to convince myself that it is not a dream, so strange and so novel are all the incidents that have of late befallen me, so unlike every former passage of my life, and so unsuited am I by nature, habit, and temperament for the curious series of adventures in which I have been involved.
After all, I suppose it is downright balderdash to say that a man is not adapted for this, or suited to that. I remember people telling me that public life would n't do for me; that I was n't the kind of man for Parliament, and so on; but I see the folly of it all now. The truth is, Tom, that there is a faculty of accommodation in human nature, and wherever you are placed, under whatever circumstances situated, you 'll discover that your spirit, like your stomach, learns to digest everything; though I won't deny that it may now and then be at the cost of a heartburn in the one case as well as the other.
When I wrote to you last, I was living a kind of pastoral life,—a species of Meliboeus, without sheep! If I remember aright, I left off when we were just setting out on an excursion into the forest,—one of those charming rides over the smooth sward, and under the trellised shadow of tall trees, now loitering pensively before some vista of the wood, now cantering along with merry laughter, as though with every bound we left some care behind never to overtake us. Ah, Tom, it's no use for me to argue and reason with myself; I always find that I come back to the same point, and that whatever touches my feelings, whatever makes my heart vibrate with pleasant emotion, whatever brings back to me the ardent, confiding, trustful tone of my young days, does me good, and that I'm a better man for it, even though "the situation," as you would call it, was rather equivocal. Don't mistake me, Tom Purcell, I don't want to go wrong; I have not the slightest inclination to break my neck. The height of my ambition is only to look over the precipice. Can't you understand that? Try and "realize" that to yourself, as the Yankees say, and you'll at once comprehend the whole charm and fascination of my late life here. I was always "looking over the precipice," always speculating upon the terrible perils of the drop, and always half hugging myself in my sense of security. Maybe this is metaphysics again; if it is, I'm sorry for it, but the German Diet must take the blame of it,—a course of sauerkraut would make any man flighty.
Well, I 'll spare you all description of these "Forest days," at whatever cost to my own feelings; and it is not every man that would put that much constraint upon himself, for something tells me that the theme would make me "come out strong." That, what with my descriptive powers as regards scenery, and my acute analysis on the score of emotions, I 'd astonish you, and you 'd be forced to exclaim, "Kenny is a very remarkable man. Faith! I never thought he had this in him." Nor did I know it myself, Tom Purcell; nor as much as suspect it. The fact is, my natural powers never had fair play. Mrs. D. kept me in a state of perpetual conflict. "Little wars," as the Duke used to say, "destroy a state;" and in the same way it's your small domesticities—to coin a word—that ruin a man's nature and fetter his genius. You think, perhaps, that I 'm employing an over-ambitious phrase, but I am not. Mrs. G. H. assured me that I actually did possess "genius," and I believe in my heart that she is the only one who ever really understood me.
No man understood human nature better than Byron, and he says, in one of his letters, "that none of us ever do anything till a woman takes us in hand;" by which, of course, he means the developing of our better instincts,—the illustrating our latent capabilities, and so on; and that, let me observe to you, is exactly what our wives never do. With them, it is everlastingly some small question of domestic economy. They "take the vote on the supplies" every morning at breakfast, and they go to bed at night with thoughts of the "budget." The woman, therefore, referred to by the poet cannot be what we should call in Ireland "the woman that owns you." And here, again, my dear friend, is another illustration of my old theory,—how hard it is for a man to be good and great at the same time. Indeed, I am disposed to say that Nature never intended we should, but in all probability meant to typify, by the separation, the great manufacturing axiom,—"the division of labor."
Be this as it may, Byron is right, and if there be an infinitesimal spark of the divine essence in your nature, your female friend will detect it with the same unerring accuracy that a French chemist hunts out the ten-thousandth part of a grain of arsenic in a case of poison. It would amaze you were I to tell you how markedly I perceived the changes going on in myself when under this influence. There was, so to say, a great revolution going on within me, that embraced all my previous thoughts and opinions on men, manners, and morals. I felt that hitherto I had been taking a kind of Dutch view of life from the mere level of surrounding objects, but that now I was elevated to a high and commanding position, from which I looked down with calm dignity. I must observe to you that Mrs. G. H. was not only in the highest fashionable circles of London, but that she was one who took a very active part in political life. This will doubtless surprise you, Tom, as it did myself, for we know really nothing in Ireland of the springs that set great events in motion. Little do we suspect the real influence women exercise,—the sway and control they practise over those who rule us. I wish you heard Mrs. G. H. talk, how she made Bustle do this, and persuaded Pumistone do the other. Foreign affairs are her forte, and, indeed, she owned to me that purely Home matters were too narrow and too local to interest her. What she likes is a great Russian question, with the Bosphorus and the Danubian Provinces, and the Hospodar of Wallachia to deal with; or Italy and the Austrians, with a skirmishing dash at the Pope and the King of Naples. She is a Whig, for she told me that the Tories were a set of rude barbarians, that never admitted female influence; and "the consequence is," says she, "they never know what is doing at foreign courts. Now we knew everything: there was the Princess Sleeboffsky, at St. Petersburg; and the Countess von Schwarmerey, at Berlin; and Madame de la Tour de Force, at Florence, all in our interest. There was not a single impertinent allusion made to England, in all the privacy of royal domestic life, that we hadn't it reported to us; and we knew, besides, all the little 'tendresses' of the different statesmen of the Continent, for, in our age, we bribe with Beauty, where formerly it was a matter of Bank-notes. The Tories, on the other hand, lived with their wives, which at once accounts for the narrowness of their views, and the limited range of their speculations."
All this may read to you like a digression, my dear Tom, but it is not; for it enables me to exhibit to you some of those traits by which this fascinating creature charmed and engaged me. She opened so many new views of life to me,—explained so much of what was mystery to me before,—recounted so many amusing stories of great people,—gave me such passing glimpses of that wonderful world made up of kings and kaisers and ministers, who are, so to say, the great pieces of the chess-board, whereon we are but pawns,—that I actually felt as if I had been a child till I knew her.
Another grand result of this kind of information is, that, as you extend your observation beyond the narrow sphere of home,—whether it be politically or domestically,—you learn at last to think so little of what you once regarded as your own immediate and material interests, that you have as many—maybe more—sympathies with the world at large than with those actually belonging to you. Such was the progress I made in this enlightenment, that I felt far more anxious about the Bosphorus than ever I did for Bruff, and would rather have seen the Austrians expelled from Lom-bardy than have turned out every "squatter" off my own estate at Dodsborough. And it is not only that one acquires grander notions this way, but there are a variety of consolations in the system. You grumble at the poor-rates, and I point to the population of Milan paying ten times as much to their tyrants. You exclaim against extermination, and I reply, "Look at Poland." You complain of the priests' exactions, and I say, "Be thankful that you haven't the Pope."
Now, Tom, come back from all these speculations, and bring your thoughts to bear upon her that originated them, and don't wonder at me if I did n't know how the days were slipping past; nor could only give a mere passing, fugitive reflection to the fact that I have a wife and three children somewhere, not very abundantly furnished with the "sinews of war." I suppose, if we could only understand it, that we 'd discover our minds were like our bodies, and that we sometimes succumb to influences we could resist at other moments. Put your head out of the window at certain periods, and you are certain to catch a cold. I conclude that there are seasons the heart is just as susceptible.
I cannot give you a stronger illustration of the strange delirium of my faculties than the fact that I actually forgot the Princess whom we came expressly to meet, and never once asked about her. It was some time in the sixth week of our sojourn that the thought shot through my brain,—"Was n't there a princess to be here?—did n't we expect to see her?" How Mrs. G. H. laughed when I asked her the question! She really could n't stop herself for ten minutes. "But I am right," cried I; "there really was a princess?"
"To be sure you are, my dear Mr. Dodd," said she, wiping her eyes; "but you must have been living in a state of trance, or you would have remembered that the poor dear Duchess was obliged to accompany the Empress to Sicily, and that she could n't possibly count upon being here before the middle of September."
"What month are we in now?" asked I, timidly.
"July, of course!" said she, laughing.
"June, July, August, September," said I, counting on my fingers; "that will be four months!"
"What do you mean?" asked she.
"I mean," said I, "it will be four months since I saw Mrs. D. and the family."
She pressed her handkerchief to her face, and I thought I heard her sob; indeed I am certain I did. Nothing was further from my thoughts than to say a rude thing, or even an unfeeling one, and so I assured her over and over. I protested that it was the very first time since I came away that I ever as much as remembered one belonging to me; that it was impossible for a man to feel less the ties of family; that I looked upon myself—and, indeed, I hoped she also looked upon me in a way—in fact, regarded me in a light—I'm not exactly clear, Tom, what light I said; of course, you can imagine what I intended to say, if I did n't say it.
"Is this really true?" said she, without uncovering her face, while she extended her other hand towards me.
"True!" repeated I. "If it were not true, why am I here? Why have I left—" I just caught myself in time, Tom. I was nearly "in it" again, with an allusion to Mrs. D.; but I changed it, and said, "Why am I your slave,—why am I at your feet—" Just as I said that, suiting the action to the words, the door of the room was jerked violently open, and a tall man, with a tremendous bushy pair of whiskers, poked his head in.
"Oh, heavens!" cried she; "mined and undone!" and fled before I could see her; while the stranger, fastening the door behind him with the key, advanced towards me with an air at once so menacing and warlike that I seized the poker, an instrument about four feet six long, and stood on the defensive.
"Mr. Kenny Dodd, I believe," said he, solemnly.
"The same!" said I.
"And not Lord Harvey Bruce, at least, on this occasion," said he, with a kind of sneer.
"No," said I, "and who are you?"
"I am Lord Harvey Bruce, sir," was the answer.
I don't think I said anything in reply; indeed, I am quite sure I did not say a syllable; but I must have made some expressive gesture, or suffered some exclamation to escape me, for he quickly rejoined,—
"Yes, sir, you have, indeed, reason to be thankful; for had it been my wretched, miserable, and injured friend instead, you would now be lying weltering in your blood."
"Might I make bold to ask the name of the wretched, miserable, and injured gentleman to whom I was about to be so much indebted?"
"The husband of your unhappy victim, sir," exclaimed he, and with such an energy of voice that I brandished the poker to show I was ready for him. "Yes, sir, Mr. Gore Hampton is now in this village,—to a mere accident you owe it that he is not in this hotel,—ay, in this very room."
And he gave a shudder at the words, as though the thoughts they suggested were enough to curdle a man's blood.
"I'll tell you what, my Lord," said I, getting the table between us, to prevent any sudden attack on his part, "all your anger and high-down indignation are clean thrown away. There is no victim here at all,—there is no villain; and, so far as I am concerned, your friend is not either miserable or injured. The circumstances under which I accompanied that lady to this place are all easy of explanation, and such as require a very different acknowledgment from what you seem disposed to make for them."
"If you think you are dealing with a schoolboy, sir, you are somewhat mistaken," broke he in. "I am a man of the world, and it will save us a deal of time, sir, if you will please to bear this plain fact in your memory."
"You may be that, or anything else you like, my Lord," said I; "but I 'd have you to know that I am a man well respected in the world, the father of a grown-up family. There is no occasion for that heavy groan at all, my Lord; the case is not what you suspect. I came here purely out of friendship—"
"Come, come, sir, this is sheer trifling; or, it is worse,—it is outrageous insult. The man who elopes with a woman, passes under a false name, retires with her into one of the most remote and unvisited towns of Germany, is discovered—as I lately discovered you,—only insults the understanding of him who listens to such excuses. We have tracked you, sir,—it is but fair to tell you,—from the Rhine to this village. We are prepared, when the proper time comes, to bring a host of evidence against you. In all probability, a more scandalous case has not come before the public these last twenty years. Rest assured, then, that denial, no matter how well sustained, will avail you little; and when you have arrived at this palpable conviction, it will greatly facilitate our progress towards the termination of this unhappy business."
"Well, my Lord, let us suppose, for argument's sake,—'without prejudice,' however, as the attorneys say,—that I see everything with your eyes, what is the nature of the termination you allude to?"
"From a gentleman coming from your side of St George's Channel, the question is somewhat singular," observed he, with a sneer.
"Oh, I perceive," said I; "your Lordship means a duel." He bowed, and I went on: "Very well; I'm quite ready, whenever and wherever you please; and if your friend should n't make the arrangement inconvenient, it would be a great honor to me to exchange a shot with your Lordship afterwards. I have no friend by me, it is true; but maybe the landlord would oblige me so far, and I 'm sure you 'll not refuse me a pistol."
"As regards your polite attentions to myself, sir, I have but to say I accept them; at the same time, I fear you are paying me a French compliment. It is not a case for a formal exchange of shots; so long as Hampton lives, you can never leave the ground alive!"
"Then the best thing I can do is to shoot him," said I; and whether the speech was an unfeeling one, or the way I said it was bloodthirsty, but he certainly looked anything but easy in his mind.
"The sooner we settle the affair the better, sir," said he, haughtily.
"I think so, too, my Lord."
"With whom can I, then, communicate on your part?"
"I 'll ask the landlord, and if he declines, I 'll try the little barber on the Platz."
"I must say, sir, it is the first time in my life I find myself in such company. Have you no countryman of your acquaintance within a reasonable distance?"
"If Lord George Tiverton were here—"
"If he were, sir, he could not act for you,—he is the near relative of my friend."
I thought of everybody I could remember; but what was the use of it? I couldn't reach any of them, and so I was obliged to own. He seemed to ponder over this for some time, and then said,—
"The matter requires some consideration, sir. When the unhappy result gets abroad in the world, it is necessary that nothing should attach to us as men of honor and gentlemen. Your friends will have the right to ask if you were properly seconded."
"By the unhappy result, your Lordship delicately insinuates my death?"
He gave a little sigh, adjusted his cravat, and smoothed down his moustaches at the glass over the chimney.
"If it should occur as your Lordship surmises," said I, "it little matters who officiates on the occasion; indeed," added I, stroking my beard, "the barber mightn't be an inappropriate friend. But I 've been 'out' on matters of this kind a few times, and somehow I never got grazed yet; and that's more than the man opposite me was able to say."
"You 'll stand before a man to-morrow, sir, that can hit a Napoleon at twenty paces."
Faith, Tom, I was nigh saying I wish he could find one for a mark about me; but I caught myself in time, and only observed,—
"He must be an elegant shot."
"The best in the Blues, sir; but this is beside the question. The difficulty is, now, about your friend. There may be some retired officer here,—some one who has served; if you will institute inquiry, I'll wait upon you this evening, and conclude our arrangements."
I promised I 'd do all in my power, and bowed him out of the room and downstairs with every civility, which, I am bound to say, he also returned, and we parted on excellent terms.
Now, Tom, you 'll maybe think it strange of me, with a thing of the kind on hand, but so it was, the moment he was off, I went to look for Mrs. Gore Hampton.
"The lady?" cried the waiter; "she started with extra-post half an hour ago."
"Started!" exclaimed I,—"which way?"
"On the high-road to Munich."
"She left no letter,—no note for me?"
"No, sir."
"Poor thing,—overcome, I suppose. She was crying, wasn't she?"
"No, sir, she looked very much as usual, but hurried, perhaps; for she nearly forgot the ham sandwiches she had ordered to be got ready for her."
"The ham sandwiches!" exclaimed I, and they nearly choked me. "I 'm going to be shot for a woman that, in the very extremity of her ruin, has the heart to order ham sandwiches!" That was the reflection that arose to my mind, and can you fancy a more bitter one?
"Are you sure," asked I, "the sandwiches weren't for Madame Virginie, or the little dog?"
"They might, sir, but my Lady desired us to be sure and put plenty of mustard on them."
This was the damning circumstance, Tom. She was fond of mustard,—I had often remarked it; and just see, now, on what a trivial thing a man's happiness can hang. For I own to you, so long as I was strong in what I fancied to be her good graces, I could have fought the whole regiment of Blues; but when I thought to myself, "She doesn't care a brass farthing for you, Kenny Dodd; she may be laughing at you this minute over the ham sandwiches,"—I felt like a drowning man that had nothing to grapple on. Talk of unhappy and injured men, indeed! Wasn't I in that category myself? Not even a husband's selfishness could dispute the palm of misery with me! In the matter of desertion we were both in the same boat, and for the life of me, I don't see what we could have to fight about. I never heard of two sailors rescued from shipwreck quarrelling as to who it was lost the vessel!
"The best thing for us to do," thought I, "would be to try and console each other; and if he be a sensible, good-hearted fellow, he 'll maybe take the same view of it. I 'll ask him and my Lord to dinner; I'll make the landlord give us some of that wonderful old Stein berger that was bottled three hundred years ago; I 'll treat them to a regular Saxon dish of venison with capers washed down with Marcobrunner, and if we 're not brothers before morning, my name is n't Kenny Dodd."
I was on "these hospitable thoughts intent," when Lord Harvey Bruce was again announced. He had found out an old sergeant-major of artillery, who for a consideration would undertake the duties of my second,—kindly adding that he and his family, a very large one, would also attend my obsequies.
I interrupted his Lordship to remark that an event bad just occurred to modify the circumstances of the case, and mentioned Mrs. Gore Hampton's departure.
"I really cannot perceive, sir," replied he, "that this in any way affects the matter in hand. Is my friend less injured—is his honor less tarnished because this unhappy woman has at last awoke to a sense of her degraded and pitiable condition?"
I thought of the sandwiches, Tom, but could say nothing.
"Are you less his greatest enemy on earth, sir?" cried he, passionately.
"Now listen to me patiently, my Lord," said I. "I 'll be as brief as I can, for both our sakes. I don't value it one rush whether I go out with your friend or not. If you want a proof of what I say, step into the little garden here and I 'll give it to you. I 'm neither boasting nor bloodthirsty, when I say that I know how to stand at either end of a pistol; but there's nothing to fight about between us."
"Oh, if you renew that line of argument," cried he, interrupting me, "It is totally impossible I can listen."
"And why not?" said I. "Is it a greater satisfaction to your friend to believe himself injured and dishonored than to know that he is neither one nor the other?"
"Then why did you come away with her?"
"I can't tell," said I, for my head was quite confused with all the discussion.
"And why call yourself by my name at Ems?"
"I cannot tell."
"Nor what do you mean by the attitude in which I found you when I entered the room?"
"I can't tell that, either," cried I, driven to desperation by sheer embarrassment "It's no use asking me any more. I have been living for the last five or six weeks like one under a spell of enchantment. I can no more account for my actions than a patient in Swift's Hospital. I 'm afraid to commit my scattered thoughts to paper, lest they might convict me of insanity. I know and feel that I am a responsible being, but somehow my notions of right and wrong are so confused, I have learned to look on so many things differently from what I used, that I 'd cut a sorry figure under cross-examination on any matter of morality. There's the whole truth of it now. I 'd have kept it to myself if I could; I 'm heartily ashamed at owning to it—but I can't help it—it would come out. Therefore, don't bother me with, 'Why did you do this?' 'What made you do that?' for I can give you no reasons for anything."
"By Jove! this is a very singular affair," said he, leaning over the back of a chair, and staring me steadfastly in the face. "Your age—your standing in society—your appearance generally, Mr. Dodd, would, I feel bound to say, rather—" Here he hesitated and faltered, as if the right word was not forthcoming; and so I continued for him,—
"Just so, my Lord; would rather refute than fix upon me such an imputation. I 'm not very like the kind of man that figures usually in these sort of cases."
"As to that," said he, cautiously, "there is no saying. I am now only speaking my own private sentiments, the result of impressions made upon myself as an individual. Courts of Law take their own views of these things; and the House of Lords has also its own way of regarding them."
The words threw me into a cold perspiration from head to foot, Tom! Courts of Law! and the House of Lords! was n't that a pretty prospect for an encumbered Irish gentleman? A shot, or even two, at twelve or fourteen paces, cannot be a very expensive thing, in a pecuniary point, to any man, and there 's an awkwardness in declining it if others are anxious to have it, so that you appear ungracious and disobliging. But Westminster Hall and St. Stephen's, Tom, is mighty different. I won't speak of the disgrace that attends such a proceeding at my time of life, nor the hue-and-cry that the Press sets up at you, and follows you with to your own hearth,—"the place from whence you came," and where now your wife waits for you—to perform the last sentence of the law. I won't allude to "Punch" and the "Illustrated News," that live upon you for three weeks; but I 'll just take the thing in its simplest form,—financially. Why, racing, railroads, contested elections, are nothing to it. You go to work exactly as Cobden says France and England do with their armaments: Chatham launches a seventy-four, and out comes Cherbourg with a line-of-battle ship,—"Injured Husband," secures Sir Fitzroy Kelly; "Heartless Seducer," sends his brief to Cock-burn. It's a game of brag from that moment; and there's as much scheming and plotting to get a hold of Frank Murphy as if he was the knave of spades! It matters little or nothing what the upshot of the case may be; you may sink the enemy, or be compelled to strike your own flag; it does n't signify, in the least; the damages of the action are fatal to you.
Now, Tom, although I never speculated in all my life as to figuring in an affair like this, these considerations were often strongly impressed upon me by reading the newspapers, and I bad come to the conclusion that a man should never think of defending an action of this kind, no more than he would a petition against his election, and for the same reason. Since, although not actually guilty in the one case or the other, you are certain to have committed so many indiscretions,—written, maybe, so many ridiculous letters,—and, in fact, exposed yourself so much, that if you cannot keep out of sight altogether, the next best thing is, let the judgment go by default. I say this to show you that the moment my Lord threw out the hint about law I had made up my mind from that instant.
"I sincerely wish," said he, after some deliberation, "that I could hit upon any mode of arranging this affair; for although I own you have made a strongly favorable impression upon me, 'Dodd,'"—he called me Dodd here, quite like an old friend,—"we cannot expect that Hampton could concur in this view. The fact is, the whole thing has got so much blazed abroad,—they are so well known in the fashionable world, both home and foreign,—she is so very handsome, so much admired, and he is such a charming fellow,—the case has created a kind of European éclat. Looking at the matter candidly, there may be a good deal in what you have said, but as a man of the world, I am forced to say that Hampton must shoot you, or sue for a divorce. I am well aware that whichever course he adopts many will condemn him. In the clubs there will be always parties. There may spring up even a kind of juste milieu, who will say, 'Now that poor Dodd is dead, I wonder if he really was guilty?'"
"I protest I feel very grateful to them, my Lord," said I. But he paid no attention to my remark, and went on,—
"If vengeance be all that a man looks for, probably the law of the land will do as much for him as the law of honor. You ruin a fellow, irretrievably ruin him, by an action of this kind. You probably remember Sir Gaybrook Foster, that ran off with Lady Mudford? Well, he had a splendid estate, did n't owe a shilling, they said, before that; they tell me now that some one saw him the other day at Geelong, croupier to a small 'hell.' Then there was Lackington, whom we used to call the 'Cool of the Evening.'"
"I never knew one of them, my Lord," said I, impatiently, for I did n't care to hear all the illustrations of his theory.
"Lackington was older than you are," continued he, "when he bolted with that city man's wife,—what's his confounded name?"
"I am shamefully ill-read, my Lord, in this kind of literature," said I, "nor has it the same interest for me that it seems to afford your Lordship. May I take the liberty of recalling your attention to the matter before us?"
"I am giving to it, sir," said he, gravely, "my best and most careful consideration. I am endeavoring, by the aid of such information as is before me, to weigh the difficulties that attach to either course, and to decide for that one which shall secure to my friend Hampton the largest share of the world's sympathy and approval. I have seen a great deal of life, and all that I know of it teaches the one lesson,—distrust, rather than yield to, first impressions. Awhile ago, when I entered this room, I would have said to Hampton, 'Shoot him like a dog, sir.' Now, I own to you, Dodd, this is not the counsel I should give him. Now, understand me well, I neither acquit nor condemn you; circumstances are far too strong against you for the one, and I have not the heart to do the other."
"This talking is dry work, my Lord," said I. "Shall we have a glass of wine?"
"Willingly," said he, seating himself, and throwing his gloves into his hat, with the air of a man quite disposed to take his ease comfortably.
Our host produced a flask of his inimitable Steinberger, and another of a native growth, to which he invited our attention, and left us to ourselves once more. We filled, touched our glasses, German fashion, drank, and resumed our converse.
"If any man could have told me, twenty-four hours ago, that I should be sitting where I now find myself, and with you for my companion, I'd have told him to his face he was a calumniator and a scoundrel! This time yesterday, Dodd, I 'd have put a bullet through you, myself."
"You don't say that, my Lord?"
"I do say, and repeat it, I believed you to be the greatest villain the universe contained. I thought you a monster of the foulest depravity."
"Well, I 'm delighted to have undeceived you, my Lord."
"You have undeceived me!—I own to it. I believe, if I know anything, it is human nature. I have not been a deep student in other things, but in the heart of man I have read deeply. I know your whole history in this affair as well as if I was present at the events. You never intended seduction here."
"Nothing of the kind, my Lord,—never dreamed of it!"
"I know it; I know it. She got an influence over you,—she fascinated you,—she held you captive, Dodd. She mingled in your thoughts,—she became part of all your most secret cogitations. With that warm, impulsive nature of your country, you made no resistance,—you could make none. You fell into the net at once,—don't deny it I like you the better for it,—upon my life I do. Don't suppose that I 'm Archbishop of Canterbury or Dean of Durham, man."
"I don't suspect, in the least," said I.
"I'm no humbug of that kind," said be, resolutely. "I'm a man of the world, that just takes life as he finds it, and neither fancies that human nature is one jot better or worse than it is. Hampton goes and marries a girl of sixteen; she is very beautiful and very rich. What of that? She leaves him—and what becomes of the wealth and beauty? She is ruined,—utterly ruined! He has his action at law, and gets swingeing damages, of course. What's the use of that? Will twenty thousand—will forty—would a hundred thousand pounds serve to compensate him for a lost position in life, and the affection of that charming creature? You know it would not, sir. Don't affect hesitation nor doubt about it You know it would not."
"That was n't what I was thinking of at all, my Lord. I was only speculating on the mighty small chance your friend would have of the money."
"Do you mean to say, sir, that the jury would n't give it?"
"Theory might, but Kenny Dodd wouldn't," said I.
"The Queen's Bench, sir, or the Court of Exchequer, would take care of that. They 'd issue a 'Mandamus,'—the strongest weapon of our law; they'd sell to the last stick of your property; they'd take your wife's jewels,—the coat off your back—"
"As to the jewels of Mrs. D.," says I, "and my own wardrobe, I 'm afraid they 'd not go far towards the liquidation."
"They'd attach every acre of your estate."
"Much good it would do them," said I. "We're in the Encumbered Court already."
"Whatever your income may be derived from, they 're sure to discover it."
"Faith!" said I, "I 'd be grateful to them for the information, for it's two months now since I beard from Tom Purcell, and I don't know where I'm to get a shilling!"
"But what are damages, after all!" said he; "nothing, absolutely nothing!"
"Nothing indeed!" said I.
"And look at the misery through which a man most wade ere be attain to them. A public trial, a rule to show cause, a motion,—three or four thousand gone for that. The case heard at Westminster Hall,—forty-seven witnesses brought over special from different parts of the Continent, at from two guineas to ten per diem, and travelling expenses,—what money could stand it; and see what it comes to: you ruin some poor devil without benefiting yourself. That 's the folly of it! Believe me, Dodd, the only people that get any enjoyment out of these cases are the lawyers!"
"I can believe it well, my Lord."
"I know it,—I know it, sir," said he, fiercely. "I have already told you that I 'm no humbug. I don't want to pretend to any nonsense about virtue, and all that. I was once in my life—I was young, it is true—in the same predicament you now stand in. It won't do to speak of the parties, but I suspect our cases were very similar. The friend who acted for the husband happened to be one who knew all my family and connections. He came frankly to me, and said,—
"'Bruce, this affair will come to a trial,—the damages will be laid at ten thousand,—the costs will be about three more. Can you meet that?'
"'No,' said I, 'I 'm a younger son,—I 've got my commission in the Guards, and eight thousand in the "Three-and-a-Half's" to live on, so that I can't.'
"'What can you pay?' said he.
"'I can stand two thousand,' said I, boldly.
"'Say three,' said he,—'say three.'
"And I said, 'Three be it,' and the affair was settled—an exposure escaped—a reputation rescued—and a clear saving of something like ten thousand pounds; and this just because we chanced both of us to be 'men of the world.' For look at the thing calmly; how should any of us have been bettered by a three days' publicity at Nisi Prius,—one's little tendernesses ridiculed by Thesiger, and their soft speeches slanged by Serjeant Wilkins. Turn it over in your mind how you may, and the same conclusion always meets you. The husband, it is true, gets less money; but then he has no obloquy. The wife escapes exposure; and the 'other party' is only mulct to one-fourth of his liability, and at the same time is exempt from all the ruffianism of the long robe! A vulgarly minded fellow might have said, 'What's the woman's reputation to me? I'll defend the action,—I'll prove this, that, and t'other. I'll engage the first counsel at the bar, and fight the battle out. I don't care a jot about being blackguarded before a jury, lampooned in the papers, and caricatured in the windows,' he might say; 'what signifies to me what character I hold before the world,—I have neither sons nor daughters to suffer from my disgrace.' I know that all these and similar reasons might prompt a man of a certain stamp to regret this course, and say, 'Be it so. Let there be a trial!' But neither you nor I Dodd, could see the matter in this light. There is this peculiarity about a man of the world, that not alone he sees rightly, but he sees quickly; he judges passing events with a kind of instinctive appreciation of what will be the tone of society generally, and he says to himself, 'There are doubtless elements in this question that I would wish otherwise. I would, perhaps, say this is not exactly to my taste; I don't like that;' but whoever yet found that he broke his leg exactly in the right place? What man ever discovered that the toothache ever attacked the very tooth he wanted! I take it, Dodd, that you are a man who has seen a good deal of life; now did your heart ever bound with delight on seeing the outside of a bill of costs? or on hearing the well-known knock of a better known dun at your hall door? True philosophy consists in diminishing, so far as may be, the inevitable ills of life. Don't you agree with me?"
"With the general proposition I do, my Lord; the question here is, how far the present case may be considered as coming within your theory. Suppose now, just for argument's sake, I was to observe that there was no similarity between our situations; that while you openly avow culpability, I as distinctly deny it."
"You prefer to die innocent, Dodd?" said he, puffing his cigar coolly as he spoke.
"I prefer, my Lord, to maintain the vantage ground that I feel under my feet. Had you been patient enough to hear me out, I could have explained to your perfect satisfaction how I came here, and why. I could have shown you a reason for everything that may possibly seem strange or mysterious—"
"As, for instance, the assumption of a name and title that did not belong to you,—a fortnight's close seclusion to avoid discovery,—the sudden departure for Ems, and headlong haste of your journey here,—and, finally, the attitude of more than persuasive eloquence in which I myself saw you. Of course, to a man of an ingenious and inventive turn, all these things are capable of at least some approach to explanation. Lawyers do the thing every day,—some, with tears in their eyes, with very affecting appeals to Heaven, according to the sums marked on the outside of the briefs. If your case had been one of murder, I could have got you a very clever fellow who would have invoked divine vengeance on his own head in open court if he were not in heart and soul assured of your spotless innocence! But now please to bear in mind that we are not in Westminster Hall. We are here talking frankly and honestly, man to man,—sophistry and special pleading avail nothing; and here I candidly tell you, that, turn the matter how you will, the advice I have given is the only feasible and practicable mode of escaping from this difficulty."
If you think me prolix, my dear Purcell, in narrating so circumstantially every part of this curious interview, just remember that I am naturally anxious to bring to bear upon your mind the force of argument to which mine at last yielded. It is very possible I may not be able to present these reasonings with all the strength and vigor with which they appealed to myself. I may—like a man who plays chess with himself—favor one side a little more than the other, or it is possible that I may seem weaker in my self-defence than I ought to have been. However you interpret my conduct on this trying occasion, give me the benefit of never having for a moment forgotten the fame and fortune of that lovely creature whose fate was in my hands, and whom I have rescued at a heavy price.
I do not wish to impose upon you the wearisome task of reading all that passed between my Lord and myself. The whole correspondence would fill a blue book, and be about as amusing as such folios usually are. I 'll spare you, therefore, the steps of the negotiation, and merely give you the heads of the treaty:—
"Firstly, Mr. G. H., by reason and in virtue of certain compensations to be hereafter stated, binds himself to consider Mrs. G. H. in all respects as before her meeting K. I. D., regarding her with the same feelings of esteem, love, and affection as before that event, and treating her with the same 'distinguished consideration.'
"Secondly, K. I. D., on his part, agrees to give acceptances for two thousand pounds sterling, with interest at the rate of five per cent per annum on same till the time of payment. The dates to be at the convenience of K. I. D., always provided that the entire payment be completed within the term of five years from the present day.
"Thirdly, K. I. D. pledges his word of honor never to dispute or contest his liability to the above debt, by any unworthy subterfuge, such as 'no value,' 'intimidation used,' or any like artifice, legal or otherwise, but accepts these conditions in all the frankness of a gentleman."
Here follow the signatures and seals of the high contracting parties, with those of a host of witnesses on both sides. Brief as the articles read, they occupied several days in the discussion of them, during which Hampton retired to a village in the neighborhood, it not being deemed "etiquette" for us to inhabit the same town until the terms of a treaty had laid down our respective positions. These were my Lord's ideas, and you can infer from them the punctilious character of the whole negotiation. Lord Harvey dined and supped with me every day, breakfasting at Schweinstock with his principal. I thought, indeed, when all was finally settled, between us, that G. H. and I might have met and dined together as friends; but my Lord negatived the notion strongly. "Come, come, Dodd, you must n't be too hard upon poor Gore; it is not generous." And although, Tom, I cannot see the force of the observation, I felt bound to yield to it, rather than appear in any invidious or unamiable light. I, consequently, never met him during his stay in the neighborhood.
Lord Harvey left this, about ten days ago, for Dresden. We parted the very best of friends, for with all his zeal for G. H., I must say that he behaved handsomely to me throughout; and in the matter of the bills, he at once yielded to my making the first for £500, at nine months, though he assured me it would be a great convenience to his friend if I could have said "six." I should have quitted this to join the family on the same day; but when I came to pay the hotel bill, I found that the dinners and champagne during the week of diplomacy had not left me five dollars remaining, so that I have been detained by sheer necessity; and partly by my own will, and partly by my host's sense of caution, my daily life has been gradually despoiled of its little enjoyments, till I find myself in the narrow circumstances of which this letter makes mention at the opening.
From beginning to end, it would be difficult to imagine a more unlucky incident; nor do I believe that any man ever got less for two thousand pounds since the world began. You cannot say a severe thing to me that I have not said to myself; you cannot appeal to my age and my habits with a more sneering insolence than I am daily in the habit of doing; your very bitterest vituperations would be mild in comparison to one of my own soliloquies, so that, as a matter of surplusage, spare me all abuse, and rather devote your loose ingenuities to assisting me out of my great embarrassments.
I know well, that if we don't discover a gold-mine at Dodsborough, or fall upon a coal-shaft near Bruff, that I have no possible prospect to pay these bills; but as the first of them is nine months off, there is no such pressing emergency. The immediate necessity is, to send me enough to leave this place, and join Mrs. D. and the family. Write to me, therefore, at once, with a remittance, and mention where they are,—if still at Bonn, where I left them.
You had also better write to Mrs. D.; in what strain, and to what purport, I must leave to your own ingenuity. As for myself, I know no more how to meet her, nor what mood to assume, than if I wore about to enter the cage of one of Van Amburgh's lions. Now I fancy that maybe a contrite, broken-hearted look would be best; and now I rather lean to the bold, courageous, overbearing tone! Heaven direct me to what is best, for I never felt myself so much in want of guidance!
When you write to me, be brief; don't worry me with details of home, and inflict me with one of your national epistles about famine, and fever, and faction fights. I have no pity for anybody but myself just now, and I care no more for what's doing in Tipperary than if it was Canton. It will be time enough when I join the others to speculate upon whither we shall turn our steps, but my present thoughts tend to going back to Dodsborough. I wish from my soul that we had never left it, nor embarked in this infernal crusade after high society, education, and grandeur,—the vain pursuit of which leaves me to write myself, as I now do, your most miserable and melancholy friend,
Kenny Dodd.
P. S. I have a gold watch, made by Gaskin of Dublin about fifty years back; but it's so big and unwieldy that nobody would buy it, except for a town clock. The case of it alone would n't make a bad-sized covered dish, and I 'm sure the works are as strong as a French steam-engine; but what's the use of it all if I can't find a purchaser? I have already parted with my tortoiseshell snuff-box, that my grandmother swore belonged to Quintus Curtius; and the only family relic remaining to me is a bamboo sword-cane, the being possessed of which, if it became known, would subject me to three months' imprisonment in a fortress, with hard labor! If I were in Austria, the penalty is death; and maybe that same would be a mercy in my misfortunes.
The only walk where I don't meet my duns is down by a canal,—a lonely path, with dwarf willows along it. I almost think I 'd have jumped in yesterday, if it was n't for the bull-frogs,—the noise they made drove me away from the place. Depend upon it, Tom, the Humane Society ought to get the breed for the Serpentine. It's only a most "determined suicide" could venture into their company! The chorus in "Robert le Diable" is a love ditty compared to them!