Dear Bob,—Here we are, living another kind of life from our old existence at Dodsborough! We have capital quarters at the "Bellevue,"—a fine hotel, excellent dinners, and, what I think not inferior to either, a most obliging Jew money-changer hard by, who advances "moderate loans to respectable parties, on personal security,"—a process in which I have already made some proficiency, and with considerable advantage to my outward man. The tailors are first-rate, and rig you out with gloves, boots, hat, even to your cane,—they forget nothing. The hairdressers are also incomparable. I thought, at first, that capillary attraction was beyond me; but, to my agreeable surprise, I discover that I boast a very imposing chevelure, and a bright promise of moustache which, as yet, is only faintly depicted by a dusky line on my upper lip.
It's all nonsense to undervalue dress: I'm no more the same man in my dark-green paletot, trimmed with Astracan, that I was a month ago in my fustian shooting-jacket, than a well-plumed eagle is like a half-moulted turkey. There is an inseparable connection between your coat and your character; and few things so react on the morality of a man as the cut of his trousers. Nothing more certainly tells me this than the feeling with which I enter any public place now, compared to what I experienced a few weeks back. It was then half shame, half swagger,—a conflict between modesty and defiance. Now, it is the easy assurance of being "all right,"—the conviction that my hat, my frock, my cravat, my vest, can stand the most critical examination; and that if any one be impertinent enough to indulge in the inquiry through his eye-glass, I have the equal privilege to return stare for stare, with, mayhap, an initiatory sneer into the bargain. By the way, the habit of looking unutterably fierce seems to be the first lesson abroad. The passport people, as you land, the officers of the Customs, the landlord of your inn, the waiters, the railroad clerks, all "get up" a general air of sovereign contempt for everybody and everything, rather puzzling at first, but quite reassuring when you are trained to reciprocity. For the time, I rather flatter myself to have learned the dodge well; not but, I must confess to you, Bob, that my education is prosecuted under difficulties. During the whole of the morning I 'm either with the governor or my mother, sight-seeing and house-hunting,—now seeking out a Rubens, now making an excursion into the market, and making exploratory researches into the prices of fish, fowl, and vegetables; cheapening articles that we don't intend to buy,—a process my mother looks upon as a moral exercise; and climbing up "two-pair," to see lodgings we have no intention to take: all because, as she says, "we ought to know everything;" and really the spirit of inquiry that moves her will have its reward,—not always, perhaps, without some drawbacks, as witness what happened to us on Tuesday. In our rambles along the Boulevard de Waterloo, we saw a smart-looking house, with an affiche over the door, "A louer;" and, of course, mother and Mary Anne at once stopped the carriage for an exploration. In we went, asked for the proprietor, and saw a small, rosy-cheeked little man, with a big wig, and a very inquiet, restless look in his eyes. "Could we see the house? Was it furnished?" "Yes," to both questions. "Were there stables?" "Capital room for four horses; good water,—two kinds, and both excellent." Upstairs we toiled, through one salon into another,—now losing ourselves in dark passages, now coming abruptly to unlock-able doors,—everlastingly coming back to the spot we had just left, and conceiving the grandest notions of the number of rooms, from the manner of our own perambulations. Of course you know the invariable incidents of this tiresome process, where the owner is always trying to open impracticable windows, and the visitors will rush into inscrutable places, in despite of all advice and admonition. Our voyage of discovery was like all preceding ones; and we looked down well-staircases and up into skylights,—snuffed for possible smells, and suggested imaginary smoke, in every room we saw. While we were thus busily criticising the domicile, its owner, it would seem, was as actively engaged in an examination of us, and apparently with a less satisfactory result, for he broke in upon one of our consultations by a friendly "No, no, ladies; it won't do,—it won't do at all. This house would never suit;" and while my mother stared, and Mary Anne opened wide her eyes in astonishment, he went on: "We 're only losing time, ladies; both your time and mine will be wasted. This is not the house for you." "I beg to observe, sir, that I think it is," interposed my mother, who, with a very womanly feeling, took a prodigious fancy to the place the moment she discovered there was a difficulty about it. The owner, however, was to the full as decided; and in fact hurried us out of the rooms, downstairs, and into the street, with a degree of haste savoring far more of impatience than politeness. I rather was disposed to laugh at the little man's energetic rejection of us; but my mother's rage rendered any "mirthful demonstration inopportune," as the French would say; and so I only exchanged glances with Mary Anne, while our eloquent parent abused the "little wretch" to her heart's content. Although the circumstance was amply discussed by us that evening, we had well-nigh forgotten it in the morning, when, to our astonishment, our little friend of the Boulevard sent in his name, "Mr. Cherry," with a request to see papa. My mother was for seeing him herself; but this amendment was rejected, and the original motion carried.
After about five minutes' interview, we were alarmed by a sudden noise and violent cries; and on rushing from the drawing-room, I just caught sight of Mr. Cherry making a flying leap down the first half of the staircase, while my father's uplifted foot stood forth to evidence what had proved the "vis à tergo." His performance of the next flight was less artistic, for he rolled from top to bottom, when, by an almost preternatural effort, he made his escape into the street. The governor's passion made all inquiries perilous for some minutes; in fact, this attempt to make "Cherry-bounce," as Cary called it, seemed to have got into his head, for he stormed like a madman. At last the causa belli came out to be, that this unhappy Mr. Cherry had come with an apology for his strange conduct the day before,—by what think you? By his having mistaken my mother and sister for what slang people call "a case of perhaps,"—a blunder which certainly was not to be remedied by the avowal of it. So at least thought my father, for he cut short the apology and the explanation at once, ejecting Mr. Cherry by a more summary process than is recognized in the law-courts.
My mother had hardly dried up her tears in crying, and I mine in laughing over this strange incident, when there came an emissary of the gendarmerie to arrest the governor for a violent assault, with intent, &c. &c, and it is only by the intervention of our Minister here that bail has been accepted; my father being bound to appear before the "Court of Correctional Police" on Monday next. If we remain much longer here, we are likely to learn something of the laws, at least in a way which people assure you is always most indelible,—practically. If we continue as we have commenced, a little management on the part of the lawyers, and a natural desire on the part of my father to obtain justice, may prolong our legal affairs far into the spring; so that we may possibly not leave this for some months to come, which, with the aid of my friend, Lazarus Simrock, may be made pleasurable and profitable.
It's all very well to talk about "learning French, seeing galleries and studying works of art," my dear Bob, but where's the time?—that's the question. My mother and the girls poach my entire morning. It's the rarest thing in the world for me to get free of them before five o'clock; and then I have just time to dash down to the club, and have a "shy" at the écarté before dinner. Smart play it is, sometimes seventy, ay, a hundred Naps, on a game; and such players too!—fellows that sit for ten minutes with a card on their knee, studying your face, watching every line and lineament of your features, and reading you, by Jove,—reading you like a book. All the false air of ease and indifference, all the brag assurance you may get up to conceal a "bad hand," isn't worth sixpence. They laugh at your puerile efforts, and tell you "you are voled" before you've played a card. We hear so much about genius and talent, and all that kind of thing at home, and you, I have no doubt, are full of the high abilities of some fellowship or medallist man of Trinity; but give me the deep penetration, the intense powers of calculation, the thorough insight into human nature, of some of the fellows I see here; and for success in life, I 'll back them against all your conic section and x plus y geniuses, and all the double first classes that ever breathed. There's a splendid fellow here, a Pole, called Koratinsky; he commanded the cavalry at Ostrolenca, and, it is said, rode down the Russian Guard, and sabred the Imperial Cuirassiers to a man. He's the first écarté and piquet player in Europe, and equal to Deschapelles at whist. Though he is very distant and cold in his manner to strangers, he has been most kind and good-natured to me; has given me some capital advice, too, and warned me against several of the fellows that frequent the club. He tells me that he detests and abhors play, but resorts to it as a distraction. "Que voulez-vous?" said he to me the other day; "when a man who calls himself Ladislaus Koratinsky, who has the blood of three monarchs in his veins, who has twice touched the crown of his native land, sees himself an exile and a 'proscrit,' it is only in the momentary excitement of the gaming-table he can find a passing relief for crushing and withering recollections." He could be in all the highest circles here. The greatest among the nobles are constantly begging and entreating him to come to their houses, but he sternly refuses. "Let me know one family," says he, "one domestic circle, where I can go uninvited, when I will,—where I can repose my confidence, tell my sorrows, and speak of my poor country; give me one such, and I ask for no more; but as for dukes and grand seigneurs, princesses and duchesses, I've had but too much of them." I assure you, Bob, it 's like a page out of some old story of chivalry to listen to him. The splendid sentiments, the glorious conceptions, and the great plans he has for the regeneration of Europe; and how he abhors the Emperor of Russia! "It's a 'duel à mort entre Nicholas et moi,'" said he to me yesterday.
"The terms of the conflict were signed on the field of Ostrolenca; for the present the victory is his, but there is a time coming!" I have been trying all manner of schemes to have him invited to dine with us. Mother and Mary Anne are with me, heart and hand; but the governor's late mischances have soured him against all foreigners, and I must bide my time. I feel, however, when my father sees him, he'll be delighted with him; and then he could be invaluable to us in the way of introductions, for he knows every crowned head and prince on the Continent.
After dinner, pretending to take an evening lesson in French, I'm off to the Opera. I belong to an omnibus-box,—all the fast fellows here,—such splendid dressers, Bob, and each coming in his brougham. I'm deucedly ashamed that I've nothing but a cabriolet, which I hire from my friend Lazarus at twelve pounds a month. They quiz me tremendously about my "rococo" taste in equipage, but I turn off the joke by telling them that I'm expecting my cattle and my "traps" from London next week. Lazarus promises me that I shall have a splendid "Malibran" from Hobson, and two grays over by the Antwerp packet, if I give him a bill for the price, at three months; and that he'll keep them for me at his stables till I 'm quite ready to pay. Stickler, the other job-master here, wanted the governor's name on the bills, and behaved like a scoundrel, threatening to tell my father all about it It cost me a "ten-pounder" to stop him.
After the theatre we adjourn to Dubos's to supper, and I can give you no idea, Bob, of what a thing that supper is! I remember when we used to fancy it was rather a grand affair to finish our evening at Jude's or Hayes's with a vulgar set-out of mutton-chops, spatchcocks, and devilled kidneys, washed down with* that filthy potation called punch. I shudder at the vile abomination of the whole when I think of our delicate lobster en mayonnaise^ or crouton aux truffes, red partridges in Rhine wine, and maraschino jelly, with Moët frappé to perfection. We generally invite some of the "corps," who abound in conversational ability, and are full of the pleasant gossip of the stage. There is Mademoiselle Léonine, too, in the ballet, the loveliest creature ever was seen. They say Count Maerlens, aide-de-camp of the King, is privately married to her, but that she won't leave the boards till she has saved a million,—but whether of francs or pounds, I don't remember.