"Not in the least," said he; "my mother was a Lamporeccho herself."
Now, Tom, I think I need not take any more pains to explain the issue of my lawsuit; and here I'll leave it.
My parting benediction to the Court was brief: "Goodbye, old gentlemen. I 'm glad you have the Austrians here to bully you; and not sorry that you are here to assassinate them." This speech was overheard by some learned linguist in court, and on the same evening I received an intimation to quit the Imperial dominions within twenty-four hours. Tiverton was for going up to Milan to Radetzky, or somebody, else, and having it all "put straight," as he calls it; but I would not hear of this.
"We 'll write to the Ambassador at Vienna?" said he.
"Nor that either," said I.
"To the 'Times,' then."
"Not a word of it."
"You don't mean to say," said he, "that you 'll put up with this treatment, and that you'll lower the name of Briton before these foreigners by such a tame submission?"
"My view of the case is a very simple one, my Lord," said I; "and it is this. We travelling English are very prone to two faults; one is, a bullying effort to oppose ourselves to the laws of the countries we visit; and then, when we fail, a whining appeal to some minister or consul to take up our battle. The first is stupid, the latter is contemptible. The same feeling that would prevent me trespassing on the hospitality of an unwilling host will rescue me from the indignity of remaining in a country where my presence is distasteful to the rulers of it."
"Such a line of conduct," said he, "would expose us to insult from one end of Europe to the other."