"Ah! that is a puzzle. No use writing to Ministers, you know. That's all lost time. Official correspondence—only invented to train up our youth—like Lord Dolly, there. Must try what can be done with Bradelli."
"And who is Bradelli, your Excellency?"
"Bradelli is Private Secretary to the Cardinal Boncelli, at Rome."
"But we are in Tuscany."
"Geographically speaking, so we are. But leave it to me, Mr. Dodd. No time shall be lost. Draw up a note, Dolly, to the Prince Cigalaroso. You have a mem. in the Chancellerie will do very well. The English are always in scrapes, and it is always the same: 'Mon cher Prince,—Je regrette infiniment que mes devoirs m'imposent,' &c., &c, with a full account of the 'fâcheux incident,'—that's the phrase, mind that, Dolly; do everything necessary for the Blue Book, and in the meanwhile take care that Mrs. D. is out of prison before the day is over."
I was surprised to find how little Sir Alexander cared for the real facts of the case, or the gross injustice of the entire proceeding. In fact, he listened to my explanations on this head with as much impatience as could consist with his unquestionable good breeding, simply interpolating as I went on: "Ah, very true;" "Your observation is quite correct;" "Perfectly just," and so on. "Can you dine here to-day, Mr. Dodd?" said he, as I finished; "Penrhyn is coming, and a few other friends."
I had some half scruples about accepting a dinner invitation while my wife remained a prisoner, but I thought, "After all, the Minister must be the best judge of such a point," and accordingly said "Yes." A most agreeable dinner it was too, Tom. A party of seven at a round table, admirably served, and with—what I assure you is growing rather a rarity nowadays—a sufficiency of wine.
The Minister himself proved most agreeable; his long residence abroad had often brought him into contact with amusing specimens of his own countrymen, some of whose traits and stories he recounted admirably, showing me that the Dodds are only the species of a very widely extended and well-appreciated genus.
I own to you that I heard, with no small degree of humiliation, how prone we English are to demand money compensations for the wrongs inflicted upon us by foreign governments. As the information came from a source I cannot question, I have only to accept the fact, and deplore it.
As a nation, we are, assuredly, neither mean nor mercenary. As individuals, I sincerely hope and trust we can stand comparison in all that regards liberality of purse with any people. Yet how comes it that we have attained to an almost special notoriety for converting our sorrows into silver, and making our personal injuries into a credit at our banker's? I half suspect that the tone imparted to the national mind by our Law Courts is the true reason of this, and that our actions for damages are the damaging features of our character as a people. The man who sees no indignity in taking the price of his dishonor, will find little difficulty in appraising the value of an insult to his liberty. Take my word for it, Tom, it is a very hard thing to make foreigners respect the institutions of a country stained with this reproach, or believe that a people can be truly high-minded and high-spirited who have recourse to such indemnities.