Under these circumstances there was nothing for it but to leave this place at once, and establish our quarters in some new locality. Baden offered the most advisable sphere, whither we have come, if not to hide our sorrows, at least to console our griefs. I am perfectly convinced that if the governor came back to-morrow, and could only obtain a fair hearing, he could satisfactorily explain why he went, where he was, and everything else about his absence; but there lies the real difficulty, Bob. He will be condemned per contumaciam, if not actually hooted out of court with indignation. While this is undeniably true, you will be astonished to hear how thoroughly public sympathy would be with him, were he boldly to stand forth and tender his plea of "Guilty." I was slow to credit this when Tiverton told me so at first, but I now see it is perfect fact. Good society abroad exacts something in the way of qualification,—like what certain charitable institutions require at home,—you must have sinned before you can hope for admittance! It is not enough that you express profligate opinions,—speak disparagingly of whatever is right, and praise the wrong,—you are expected to give a proof, a good, palpable, unmistakable proof of your professions, and show yourself a man of your word. The oddest thing about all this is that these evidences are not demanded on any moral or immoral grounds, but simply as requirements of good breeding,—in other words, you have no right to mix in society where your purity of character may give offence; such pretension would be a downright impertinence.
Hence you will perceive that if the governor only knew of it, he might take brevet rank as a scamp, and actually figure here as one of the "profligates of the season." Meanwhile, his absence is not without its inconveniences; and if he remain much longer away, I am sorely afraid, we shall be reduced to a paper currency, not "convertible" at will.
I have myself been terribly unlucky at "the tables," have lost heavily, and am deeply in debt. Tiverton, however, tells me never to despair, and that when pushed to the wall a man can always retrieve himself by a rich marriage. I confess the remedy is not exactly to my taste,—but what remedy ever is? If it must be so, it must. There are just now some three or four great prizes in the wheel matrimonial here, of which I will speak more fully in my next; my object in the present being rather to tell you where we are, than to communicate the res gesto of
Your ever attached friend,
James Dodd.
P. S. Don't think of reading for the Fellowship, I beg and entreat of you. If you will take to "monkery," do it among our own fellows, who at least enjoy lives of ease and indolence. Besides, it is a downright absurdity to suppose that any man ever rallies after four years of hard study and application. As Tiverton says, "You train too fine, and there's no work in you afterwards."
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.