These reporters, or correspondents, or whatever they call them, are, in my mind, the greatest disturbers of the peace of Europe. The moment they assert anything, they set about looking for proofs of it; and they don't know how to praise themselves enough, whenever they are driven to confess that they were in the wrong; and then, if you mind, Tom, it is not to the public they excuse themselves,—not a bit of it; it's the King of Naples, or the Emperor of Russia, or the Bey of Tiflis, that "they sincerely hope will not be offended by statements made after mature reflection and painful consideration of the topic." They throw out sly hints of all the Royal attentions that have been bestowed upon them, and the intimate habits they have enjoyed of confidence with the Queen of this, and the Crown Prince of that Vulgar rapscallions! they have never seen more of Royalty than what a church or an opera admits; and though Majesty now and then may feel the sting, take my word for it, he never notices the mosquito.
If you, then, see me in print,—and be on the look-out,—just write a letter in my name from Dodsborough, to say that I am well and hearty on my paternal acres, and know nothing of politics, police, or reporters, and would rather the Government would reduce the county cess than prosecute every Grand-Duke in Europe.
I will write again to-morrow. Yours ever,
K. I. Dodd.
LETTER XXXIV. KENNY JAMES DODD TO THOMAS PURCELL, ESQ., OF THE GRANGE, BRUFF
"The Fox."
My dear Tom,—However Morris managed it I know not, but an order came for my liberation that same evening, with the assurance that my passport was to be made out for wherever I pleased to name, and the Prefect was to express to me his regrets and apologies for an inadvertence which he deeply deplored.
It seemed that, but for diplomacy, I'd not have been detained half an hour; but our worthy representative of Great Britain had asked for copies of all the charges against me so formally, had requested the names, ages, and station in life of the several witnesses so circumstantially, and had, in fact, imparted such a mock importance to a police impertinence, that the Grand-Ducal authorities began to suspect that they had caught a first-rate revolutionist, with a whole trunkful of Kossuth and Mazzini correspondence. This comes of setting school-boys to write despatches! The greedy appetite for notoriety—to be up and doing—to be before the world in some public capacity—of these juveniles, brings England into more trouble, and Englishmen into more embarrassment, than you could believe. If they 'd be satisfied with recording Royal dinnerparties and Court scandal,—who got the Order of the Guinea-pig, and who is to receive the "Tortoise," they could n't do much harm; but the moment they get hold of an international grievance, and quote Puffendorf, we have no peace on the Continent for six months after.
"You wish to leave Baden," said Morris; "where will you go?"