Part 4

Lord George Tiverton said to me last night, "Why doesn't your governor put you into 'the House'? You'd make a devilish good figure there." And the notion has never left me since. Lord George himself is Member for Hornby, but he never attends the sittings, and only goes into Parliament as a means of getting leave from his regiment. They say he's the "fastest" fellow in the service; he has already run through seventeen thousand a year, and one hundred and twenty thousand of his wife's fortune. They are separated now, and he has something like twelve hundred a year to live on; just enough for cigars and brandy and water, he calls it. He's the best-tempered fellow I ever saw, and laughs and jokes about his own misfortunes as freely as possible. He knows the world--and he's not yet five-and-twenty--perhaps better than any man I ever saw. There is not a bill-discounter, not a betting-man, nor a ballet-dancer, he is not acquainted with; and such amusing stories as he tells of his London life and experiences. When he found that he had run through everything--when all his horses were seized at Ascot, and his house taken in execution in London, he gave a splendid _fête_ at Hornby, and invited upwards of sixty people down there, and half the county to meet them. "I resolved," said he, "on a grand finish; and I assure you that the company did not enjoy themselves the less heartily because every second fellow in my livery was a sheriff's officer, and that all the forks and spoons on the table were under seizure. There was a 'caption,' as they term it, on everything, down to the footmen's bag-wigs and knee-buckles. We went to supper at two o'clock; and I took in the Duchess of Allington, who assuredly never suspected that there was such a close alliance between my drawing-room and the Queen's Bench. The supper was exquisite; poor Marriton had exhausted himself in the devices of his art, and most ingeniously intimated his appreciation of my situation by a plate of ortolans _en salmi, sautés à la Fonblanque_,--a delicate allusion to the Bankrupt Commissioner. I nearly finished the dish myself, drank off half a bottle of champagne, took out Lady Emily de Maulin for the cotillon, and then, slipping away, threw myself into a post-chaise, arrived at Dover for the morning mail-packet, and landed at Boulogne free as William Tell, or that eagle which he is so enthusiastic in describing as a most remarkable instance of constitutional liberty." These are his own words, Bob; but without you saw his manner, and heard his voice, you could form no notion whatever of the careless, happy self-satisfaction of one who calls himself irretrievably ruined.

From all that I have been jotting down, you may fancy the set I am moving in, and the class with whom I associate. Then there is a German Graf von Blumenkohl, and a Russian Prince Kubitzkoy, two tremendous swells; a young French Marquis de Tregues, whose mother was granddaughter, I believe, of Madame du Barri, and a large margin of inferior dons, Spanish, Italian, and Belgian. That your friend Jemmy Dodd should be a star, even a little one, in such a galaxy, is no small boast; and such, my dear Bob, I am bound to feel it. Each of these fellows has a princely fortune, as well as a princely name, and it is not without many a clever dodge and cunning artifice that, weighted as I am, I can keep pace with them. I hope you'll succeed, with all my heart, for the scholarship or fellowship. Which is it? Don't blame me for the blunder, for I have never, all my life through, been able to distinguish between certain things which I suppose other persons find no resemblance in. Thus I never knew exactly whether the word "people" was spelled "eo" or "oe." I never knew the Derby from the Oaks, nor shall I ever, I'm certain, be able to separate in my mind Moore O'Ferral from Carew O'Dwyer, though I am confidently informed there is not a particle of similarity in the individuals, any more than in the names.

Write to me when your match is over,--I mean your examination,--and say where you 're placed. I 'll take you against the field, at the current odds, in "fives."

And believe me, ever your attached friend,

J. Dodd.

LETTER V. KENNY DODD TO THOMAS PURCELL, ESQ.

HÔTEL DE BELLEVUE, BRUSSELS.

Dear Tom,--Yours did not reach me till yesterday, owing to some confusion at the Post-office. There is another Dodd here, who has been receiving _my_ letters, and I _his_, for the last week; and I conclude that each of us has learned more than was quite necessary of the other's affairs; for while _he_ was reading of all the moneyed distresses and embarrassments of your humble servant, _I_ opened a letter dated Doctors' Commons, beginning, "Dear sir, we have at last obtained the most satisfactory proofs against Mrs. Dodd, and have no hesitation in now submitting the case to a jury." We met yesterday, and exchanged credentials, with an expression of face that I'm sure "Phiz" would have given a five-pound note to look at. Peachem and Lockit were nothing to it. We agreed that either of us ought to leave this, to prevent similar mistakes in future, although, in my heart, I believe that we now know so much of each other's affairs, that we might depute one of us to conduct both correspondences. In consequence, we tossed up who was to go. _He_ won; so that we take our departure on Wednesday next, if I can settle matters in the mean while. I 'm told Bonn, on the Rhine, is a cheap place, and good for education,--a great matter as regards James,--so that you may direct your next to me there. To tell you the truth, Tom, I'm scarcely sorry to get away, although the process will be anything but a cheap one. First of all, we have taken the rooms for three months, and hired a job-coach for the same time. Moving is also an expensive business, and not over-agreeable at this season; but against these there is the setoff that Mrs. D. and the girls are going to the devil in expense for dress. From breakfast-time till three or four o'clock every day, the house is like a fair with milliners, male and female, hairdressers, perfumers, shoemakers, and trinket-men. I thought we'd done with all this when we left London; but it seems that everything we bought there is perfectly useless, and Mrs. D. comes sailing in every now and then, to make me laugh, as she says, at a bit of English taste by showing me where her waist is too short, or her sleeves too long; and Mary Anne comes down to breakfast in a great stiff watered silk, which for economy she has converted into a house-dress. Caroline, I must say, has not followed the lead, and is quite satisfied to be dressed as she used to be. James I see little of, for he 's working hard at the languages, and, from what the girls say, with great success. Of course, this is all for the best; but it's little use French or even Chinese would be to him in the Customs or the Board of Trade, and it's there I'm trying to get him. Vickars told me last week that his name is down on no less than four lists, and it will be bad luck but we 'll bit upon something. Between ourselves, I'm not over-pleased with Vickars. Whenever I write to him about James, his reply is always what he's doing about the poor laws, or the Jews, or the grant to Maynooth; so that I had to tell him, at last, that I 'd rather hear that my son was in the Revenue, than that every patriarch in Palestine was in Parliament, or every papist in Ireland eating venison and guinea-hens. Patriotism is a fine thing, if you have a fine fortune, and some men we could mention have n't made badly out of it, without a sixpence; but for one like myself, the wrong side of fifty, with an encumbered estate, and no talents for agitation, it's as expensive as horse-racing, or yachting, or any other diversion of the kind. So there's no chance of a tenant for Dodsborough! You ought to put it in the English papers, with a puff about the shooting and the trout-fishing, and the excellent neighborhood, and all that kind of thing. There 's not a doubt but it's too good for any Manchester blackguard of them all! What you say about Tully Brack is quite true. The encumbrances are over eleven thousand; and if we bought in the estate at three or four, there would be so much gain to us. The "Times" little knew the good it was doing us when it was blackguarding the Irish landlords, and depreciating Irish property. There's many a one has been able to buy in his own land for one-fifth of the mortgages on it; and if this is n't repudiation, it's not so far off Pennsylvania, after all.

I don't quite approve of your plan for Ballyslevin. Whenever a property 's in Chancery, the best thing is to let it go to ruin entirely. The worse the land is, the more miserable the tenants, the cheaper will be the terms you 'll get it on; and if the boys shoot a receiver once or twice, no great harm. As for the Government, I don't think they 'll do anything for Ireland except set us by the ears about education and church matters; and we 're getting almost tired of quarrelling, Tom; for so it is, the very best of dispositions may be imposed on too far!

Now, as to "education," how many amongst those who insist on a

## particular course for the poor, ever thought of stipulating for the

same for their own children? or do they think that the Bible is only necessary for such as have not an independent fortune? And as to Maynooth, is there any man such a fool as to believe that £30,000 a year would make the priests loyal? You gave the money well knowing what for,--to teach Catholic theology, not to instil the oath of allegiance. To expect more would be like asking a market-gardener to raise strawberries with fresh cream round them! The truth is, they don't wish to advance our interests in England. They 're afraid of us, Tom. If we ever were to take a national turn, like the Scotch, for instance, we might prove very dangerous rivals to them in many ways. I 'm sick of politics; not, indeed, that I know too much of what's doing, for the last "Times" I saw was cut up into a new pattern for a polka, and they only kept me the supplement, which, as you know, is more varied than amusing. In reply to your question as to how I like this kind of life, I own to you that it does n't quite suit me. Maybe I 'm too old in years, maybe too old in my notions, but it does n't do, Tom. There is an everlasting bowing and scraping and introducing,--a perpetual prelude to acquaintanceship that never seems to begin. It appears to me like an orchestra that never got further than the tuning of the instruments! I 'm sure that, at the least, I 've exchanged bows and grins and leers with fifty gentlemen here, whom _I_ should n't know to-morrow, nor do _they_ care whether I did or no. Their intercourse is like their cookery, and you are always asking, "Is there nothing substantial coming?" Then they 're frivolous, Tom. I don't mean that they are fond of pleasure, and given up to amusement, but that their very pleasures and amusements are contemptible in themselves. No such thing as field-sports; at least, nothing deserving the name; no manly pastimes, no bodily exercises; and lastly, they all, even the oldest of them, think that they ought to make love to your wife and daughters, just as you hand a lady a chair or a cup of tea in our country,--a mere matter of course. I need not tell you that my observations on men and manners are necessarily limited by my ignorance of the language; but I have acquired the deaf man's privilege, and if I hear the less, I see the more.

I begin to think, my dear Tom, that we all make a great mistake in this taste we've got into for foreign travel, foreign languages, and foreign accomplishments. We rear up our families with notions and habits quite inapplicable to home purposes; and we are like the Parisian shopkeepers, that have nothing on sale but articles of luxury; and, after all, we have n't a genius for this trifling, and we make very ungraceful idlers in the end. To train a man for the Continent, you must begin early; teach him French when a child; let him learn dominoes at four, and to smoke cigars at six, wear lacquered boots at eight, and put his hair in paper at nine; eat sugar-plums for dinner, and barley-water for tea; make him a steady shot with the pistol, and a cool hand with the rapier; and there he is finished and fit for the Boulevard,--a nice man for the _salons_.

It is cheap, there is no doubt; but it costs a great deal of money to come at the economy. You 'll perhaps say that's my own fault. Maybe it is. We 'll talk of it more another time.

I ought to confess that Mrs. D. is delighted with everything; she vows that she is only beginning to live; and to hear her talk, you 'd think that Dodsborough was one of the new model penitentiaries. Mary Anne's her own daughter, and she raves about princes and dukes and counts, all day long. What they 'll say when I tell them that we 're to be off on Wednesday next, I can't imagine. I intend to dine out that evening, for I know there will be no standing the row!

The Ambassador has been mighty polite and attentive: we dined there last week. A grand dinner, and fine company; but, talking French, and nothing but French, all the time, Mrs. D. and your humble servant were rather at a nonplus. Then we had his box at the opera, where, I must say, Tom, anything to equal the dancing I never saw,--indecency is no name for it. Not but Mrs. D. and Mary Anne are of a contrary opinion, and tauntingly ask me if I prefer a "Tatter Jack Walsh," at the cross-roads, to Taglioni. As for the singing, it's screeching,--that's the word for it, screeching. The composer is one Verdi,--a fellow, they tell me, that cracks every voice in Europe; and I can believe it. The young woman that played the first part grew purple in the face, and strained till her neck looked like a half-unravelled cable; her mouth was dragged sideways; and it was only when I thought she was off in strong convulsions that the audience began to applaud. There's no saying what their enthusiasm might not have been had she burst a blood-vessel.

I intended to have despatched this by to-day's post, but it is Saint Somebody's day, and the office closes at two o'clock, so that I 'll have to keep it over, perhaps till Saturday, for to-morrow, I find, we 're to go to Waterloo, to see the field of battle. There's a prince--whose name I forget, and, indeed, I could n't spell, if I remembered it--going to be our "Cicerone." I 'm not sure if he says he was there at the battle; but Mrs. D. believes him as she would the Duke of Wellington. Then there's a German count, whose father did something wonderful, and two Belgian barons, whose ancestors, I 've no doubt, sustained the national reputation for speed. The season is hardly suitable for such an excursion; but even a day in the country--a few hours in the fields and the free air--will be a great enjoyment James is going to bring a Polish friend of his,--a great Don he calls him,--but I 'm so overlaid with nobility, the Khan of Tartary would not surprise me now. I 'll keep this open to add a few lines, and only say good-bye for the present.

Saturday.

Waterloo's a humbug, Tom. I don't mean to say that Bony found it so some thirty-odd years back, but such it now appears. I assure you they 've cut away half the field to commemorate the battle,--a process mighty like slicing off a man's nose to establish his identity. The result is that you might as well stand upon Hounslow Heath or Salisbury Plain, and listen to a narrative of the action, as visit Waterloo for the sake of the localities. La Haye Sainte and Hougoumont stand, certainly, in the old places, but the deep gorge beside the one, and the ridge from whence the cannonade shattered the other, are totally obliterated. The guides tell you, indeed, where Vivian's brigade stood, where Picton charged and fell, where Ney's column halted, faltered, and broke; they speak of the ridge behind which the guard lay in long expectancy; they describe to you the undulating swell over which our line advanced, cheering madly: but it's like listening to a description of Killarney in a fog, and being informed that Turk Mountain is yonder, and that the waterfall is down a glen to your right. One thing is clear, Tom, however,--we beat the French; and when I say "We," I mean what I say. England knows, and all Europe knows, who won the battle, and more's the disgrace for the way we 're treated. But, after all, it's our own fault in a great measure, Tom; we take everything that comes from Parliament as a boon and a favor, little guessing often how it will turn out. Our conduct in this respect reminds me of poor Jack Whalley's wife. You remember Jack, that was postboy at the Clanbrazil Arms. Well, his wife one day chanced to find an elegant piece of white leather on the road, and she brought it home with her in great delight, to mend Jack's small clothes, which she did very neatly. Jack set off the next day, little suspecting what was in store for him; but when he trotted about five miles,--it was in the month of July,--he began to feel mighty uneasy in the saddle,--a feeling that continued to increase at every moment, till at last, as he said, "It was like taking a canter on a beehive in swarming time;" and well it might, for the piece of leather was no other than a blister that the apothecary's boy had dropped that morning on the road; and so it is, Tom. There's many a thing we take to be a fine patch for our nakedness that's only a blister, after all. Witness the Poor Law and the "Cumbrous Estates Court," as Rooney calls it. But I 'm wandering away from Waterloo all this time. You know the grand controversy is about what time the Prussians came up; because that mainly decides who won the battle. I believe it's nearly impossible to get at the truth of the matter; for though it seems clear enough they were in the wood early in the day, it appears equally plain they stayed there--and small blame to them--till they saw the Inniskillings cutting down the Cuirassiers and sabring all before them. They waited, as you and I often waited in a row, till the enemy began to run, and then they were down on them. Even that same was no small help; for, by the best accounts, the French require a deal of beating, and we were dreadfully tired giving it to them! Sergeant Cotton, the guide, tells me it was a grand sight just about seven o'clock, when the whole line began cheering; first, Adam's brigade, then Cooke's battalion, all taking it up and cheering madly; the general officers waving their hats, and shouting like the rest. I was never able to satisfy myself whether we gained or lost most by that same victory of Waterloo; for you see, Tom, after all our fighting in Spain and Portugal, after all Nelson's great battles, all our triumphs and votes of thanks, Europe is going back to the old system again,--kings bullying their people, setting spies on them, opening their letters, transporting the writers, and hanging the readers. If they 'd have let Bony alone when he came back from Elba, the chances were that he 'd not have disturbed the peace of the world. He had already got his bellyful of fighting; he was getting old, falling into flesh, and rather disposed to think more of his personal ease than he used to do. Are you aware that the first thing he said on entering the Tuileries from Elba was, "Avant tout, un bon dîner"? One of the marshals, who heard the speech, whispered to a friend, "He is greatly changed; you 'll see no more campaigns." I know you 'll reply to me with your old argument about legitimacy and divine right, and all that kind of thing. But, my dear Tom, for the matter of that, have n't I a divine right to my ancestral estate of Tullylicknaslatterley; and look what they 're going to do with it, to-morrow or next day! 'T is much Commissioner Longfield would mind, if I begged to defer the sale, on the ground of "my divine right." Kings are exactly like landlords; they can't do what they like with their own, hard as it may seem to say so. They have their obligations and their duties; and if they fail in them, they come into the Encumbered Estates Court, just like us,--ay, and, just like us, they "take very little by their motion."