The Dodd Family Abroad, Vol. I

Haven't they their own topics? Isn't dancing, dress, the drama, enough for them, I ask? – without even speaking of divorce cases, – that they won't leave bills, motions, and debates to their husbands? Whenever I see Mrs. Roney, of Bally Roney, or Mrs. Miles MacDermot, of Castle Brack, in the "Morning Post," among the illustrious company at Lady Wheedleham's party, I say to myself, "I wish your neighbors joy of you when you go home again, that's all!"

And yet all this would have been better for me than this coming abroad! I might have been member for Bruff for half the cost of this unlucky expedition! And this was economy, forsooth! Do you know how much we spent, hard cash, since March last? I am fairly ashamed to tell you, Tom; and though money lies mighty close to my heart, I don't regret the loss as much as I do that of many a good trait that we brought away with us, and have contrived to lose on the road. All this running about the world, this eternal change of place and people, imparts such an "Old Soldierism," if I may make the word, to a family, that they lose all that quiet charm of domesticity that forms the fascination of a home.

Fathers and mothers are worldly, as a matter of course. It comes upon them just like chronic rheumatism, or baldness, or any other infirmity of time and years, but it's hateful to see young people calculating and speculating; planning for this, and plotting for that. You ask, perhaps, "What has this to do with foreign travel?" and I say, "Everything." Your young lady that has polka'd at Paris, galloped up the Rhine, waltzed at Vienna, and bolero'd at Madrid, has about as much resemblance to an English or Irish girl brought up at home as the show-off horse of a circus has to a thoroughbred hunter. It's all training and teaching, – very graceful, perhaps, and pretty to look at, – but only fit for display, and worth nothing without lamps, sawdust, and spectators. Now, these things are not native to us, partly from climate, partly from old habit, prejudice, and natural inclination. We like to have a home. Our fireside has a kind of religious estimation in our eyes, associated as it is with that family grouping that includes everything from two years and a half to eighty, – from the pleasant prattle of infancy to the harmless murmurings of grandpapa. The foreigner – I don't care of what nation, they are all alike – has no idea of this. His own house to him is only one remove above a prison. He has little light, and less fire; neither comfort nor companionship! For him, life means society, plenty of well-dressed people, handsome salons, wax-lights, movement, bustle, and confusion, the din of five hundred tongues that only wag for scandal, and the sparkle of eyes that are only brilliant for wickedness.

These foreigners are really wonderful people, so frivolous about all that is grave or serious, so sober-minded in every folly and absurdity, we never rightly understand them, and that is one reason why all our imitation of them is so ludicrous.

Have you ever seen a fellow in a circus, Tom, whose feat was to jump from a horse's back through some half-dosen hoops a little bigger than his body? He has kept this performance for his finish, for it is his chef d'oeuvre and he wants to "sink in full glory resplendent." Somehow or other, though, he can't summon up pluck for the effort. Now the horse goes wrong leg, now it's the fault of the fellows that hold the hoops, now the pace is not fast enough; in fact, nothing goes right with him, and there he spins round and round, wishing with all his heart it was done and over. I 'm pretty much in the same plight this moment, Tom, at least as regards hesitation and indecision; for while I have been rambling on about foreign life and manners, my mind was full of a very different theme; but from downright shame have I kept off it, for I 'm tired of recording all our miseries and misfortunes. Here goes, however, for the spring, – I can't defer it any longer.

Since I came back, I have n't exchanged ten words with Mrs. D. It is an armed truce between us, and each stands ready, and only waiting for the attack. If, however, I consign to oblivion all remembrance of her extravagance, the chance is that she is to keep blind to my infidelity! In a word, the picnic and Mrs. G. are to be buried together. Of course the terms of our convention prevented my learning much of the family doings in my absence. Even had I moved for any papers or correspondence on the subject, I should have been met by a flat refusal; and, in fact, I was left, the way poor Curran used to say of himself, to pick up my facts from the opposite counsel's statement. I was not long destined to the bliss of ignorance. Such a hurricane of bills and accounts I never withstood before. James, however, by what arts of flattery I know not, succeeded in getting bold of his mother's bank-book, and went out, a few evenings ago, and paid everything; and, that we might escape at once from this den of iniquity, went immediately to the Prefecture for our passport. The Commissary was at his café, whither James followed him, and, somehow or other, an angry discussion got up between them, and they separated, after exchanging something that was not the compliments of the season.

I 'm so used to rows and shindies that I went fast asleep while he was telling me of it; but the following morning I was to have a jog to my memory that I did n't expect, – no less than two gendarmes, with their carbines on their arms, having arrived to escort me to the "Bureau of the Police." I dressed accordingly, and set out alone; for although James might have been useful in many ways, I was too much afraid of his rashness and hot temper to take him. We arrived before the door was open, and spent twenty minutes in the street, surrounded by a mixed assemblage, who commented upon me and my supposed crime with great freedom and impartiality.

After another long wait in a dirty ante-room, I was ushered into a large chamber, where the great functionary was seated at a table covered with papers, and at a smaller one, close by, sat what I perceived to be his clerk, or private secretary. Of course I imagined it was for something that James had said the previous evening that I was thus arraigned, and though I thought it was like reading the passage in the Decalogue backwards, to make the father suffer for the children, I resolved to be patient and submissive throughout.

"Your name?" said the Commissary, bluntly, but never offering me a seat, nor even noticing my "Good-morning."

"Dodd," said I, as shortly.

"Christian name?"

"Kenny James."

"Where born?"

"At Bruff, in Ireland."

"How old?"

"Upwards of fifty, – not certain for a year, more or less."

"Religion?"

"Catholic."

"Married or single?"

"Married."

"With children, – how many?"

"Three, – a boy and two girls."

"Do you follow any trade or profession?"

"No."

"Living upon private means?"

"Yes."

These, and a vast number of similar queries – they filled five sheets of long post – followed, touching where we came from, how we had travelled, our object in the journey, and twenty things of the like kind, till I began to feel that the examination in itself was not a small penalty for a light transgression. At last, after a close scrutiny into all my family matters, my money resources, and my habits, he entered upon another chapter, which I own I thought was pushing the matter rather far, by saying, "Apparently, Herr Dodd, you are one of those who think that the monarchies of Europe are obsolete systems of government, ill suited to the spirit and requirements of the age. Is it not so?"

If I had only a moment's time for reflection, I should have said, "What is it to you how I think on these subjects? I don't belong to your country, and will render no account of my private sentiments to you;" but, unfortunately, a discussion on politics is always "nuts" to me, – I can't resist it, – and in I went, with that kind of specious generality that lays down a broad and wide foundation for any edifice you like afterwards to rear.

"Kings," said I, "are pretty much like other men, – good, bad, or indifferent, and, like other men, they are not bettered by being left to the sway of their own unbridled passions and tempers. Wherever, therefore, there is no constitution to bind them, the chances are that they make ducks and drakes of their subjects."

I must tell you, Tom, that we conducted our interview in English, which the Commissary spoke fluently.

"The divine right of kings, then, you utterly overlook?"

"I deny it, – I laugh it to scorn," said I. "Look at the fellows we see on thrones, – one is a creature fit for Bedlam; another ought to be in Norfolk Island. If they possessed any of this divine right you talk of, should we have seen them scuttling away as they did the other day, because there was a row in their capitals?"

"That will do, – quite enough," said he, stopping me short. "Your sentiments are sufficiently clear and explicit. You are a worthy disciple of your friend Gauss."

"I never heard of him till now," said I.

"Nor of Isaac Henkenstrom? – nor Reichard Blitzler? – nor Johann von Darg?"

"Not one of them."

"This you swear?"

"This I swear," said I, firmly; but the words were not well out, when the door was opened at a signal made by the Commissary, and an old man, with a very white beard and in shabby black, was led forward.

"Do you know the Herr Professor now?" asked the Commissary of me.

"No," said I, stoutly, – "never saw him before."

"Bring in the others," said he; and, to my astonishment, came forward three of the young fellows I had travelled with on foot from Saxony, but whose names I had not heard, or, if I heard, had forgotten.

"Are these men known to you?" asked the Prefect, with a sneer.

"Yes," said I; "we travelled in company for some days."

"Ah! you acknowledge them at last?" said he, "although you swore you had never seen them."

"Are you so stupid," said I, "as not to distinguish between a man's knowledge of an individual and his remembrance of a name?"

"You yourself might be a puzzle in that respect," replied he, not heeding my taunt. "You assumed one appellation at Bonn, another at Ems, and your family are living under a third here."

"I deny it!" cried I, indignantly.

"Here 's the proof," said he. "Is this your wife's hand-writing? 'Mrs. Dodd M'Carthy requests the favor of having two gendarmes stationed at the hotel on each Wednesday evening, to keep order in the line of carriages at her receptions.' Is that authentic?"

What a shell exploded beneath me, as I saw that I was tracked by the spies of the police from town to village up the Rhine, and half across Germany! The three youths with whom I was confronted were already condemned to prison. One had a tobacco bag, with a picture of Blum on it; the other was detected with a case-knife, whose blade exceeded the regulation length by half an inch; and the third was heard to say, "Germany forever," as he tossed off a tumbler of beer; and I was the associate and trusted comrade of this combined Socialism and Democracy. It came out that amongst our fraternity of the road there had been a paid spy of the police, who kept a regular journal of all our wayside conversation; and from the singularity of an Englishman's presence in such a party, it was inferred that his object was to spread those infamous doctrines by which it is now well known England sustains her position in Europe.

The absurdity I could laugh at, but there were some things in the matter not to be treated lightly. With my name at Ems they had no possible concern. Ems was in Nassau, not Baden. What could have persuaded my wife to call herself Dodd M'Carthy? We were always Dodd; we never had any other name. I could n't explain this, nor even give it a coloring; but I grew angry, Tom, vexed and irritated by the pestering impertinence of this pumping scoundrel. I said a vast number of things which had been better unsaid. I gave a great deal of good advice, too, about legislation generally, that I might have known would not have been accepted; and, in fact, I was what would be called generally indiscreet; the more, since all my remarks were committed to paper as fast as I made them, the whole being courteously submitted to me for signature, as if I had been purposely making a confession of my political belief.

"Give me my passport," cried I, at last, "and let me quit your little rascally territory of spies and sharpers. I promise you sacredly I 'll never put foot in it again."

"Not so fast, my worthy friend," said he. "We must first know under which of your aliases you are to travel; meanwhile, we shall take the liberty of committing you to prison as Herr Dodd!"

"To prison! – for what crime?" cried I, nearly choking with passion.

"You 'll hear it all time enough," was the only response, as, ringing his bell, he summoned the gendarmes, who, advancing one to either side of me, led me away like a common malefactor.

The prison is a kind of Bridewell, over a livery-stable, and only meant as a "station" before being forwarded to the larger establishment at Carlsruhe. I suppose, had they wished it, they could not have accorded me any place of separate confinement; for there was but scanty space, and many occupants. As it was, my lot was to be put in the same cell with two fellows just apprehended for a murder, and who obligingly entered into a full narrative of their crime, believing that my revelations would be equally interesting. I lost no time in writing a note to James, and another to our English Chargé d'Affaires, a young attaché, I believe, of the Legation at Stuttgard.

James and the sucking diplomatist were both out, so that I had no answer from either till evening. During this interval I had much meditation over the state of politics in Germany, and the probable future of that country, of which I shall take another occasion to tell you.

At six o'clock came the following, enclosed in a very large envelope, and sealed with a very spacious impression of the English Arms: —

"The undersigned Attaché of H. B. M.'s Legation at the Court of Stuttgard has the honor to acknowledge receipt of Mr. Kenny J. Dodd's communication of this morning's date, and will lay it under the consideration of H. B. M.'s Principal Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs."

This was pleasant, forsooth! And was I to remain in jail till the despatch had reached London, a deliberation formed on it, and an answer returned? I was boiling over with rage at this thought, when James entered. He had just been with our illustrious Chargé d'Affaires, who received him with that diplomatic reserve so peculiar amongst the small fry of the Foreign Office. At the same time James saw a lurking satisfaction in his manner at the thought of having got up a case of international dispute, which might have his name mentioned in the House, and possibly a despatch with his signature printed in a Blue Book. He was dying for an opportunity of distinguishing himself, as Baden offered nothing to his ambition; and all his fear was, that the authorities might liberate me too soon. James perceived all this, – for the lad is not wanting in shrewdness, and his Continental life, if it has not bettered his morals, has certainly sharpened his wit; but all his arguments were unavailing, and all his reasonings useless. The despatch was already begun, and it was too good a grievance to let slip unprofitably.

James next called on a friend of his, a certain Mr. Milo Blake O'Dwyer, who is the correspondent of a great London paper called the "Sledge Hammer of Freedom;" but instead of advice and guidance, the worthy news-gatherer was taking down all the particulars for a grand letter to his journal; and he, too, it was plain to see, wished that some outrageous treatment of me by the authorities would make his communication the great event of that day's post in London. "I wish they 'd put him in irons, – in heavy irons," said he. "Are you sure that his cell is not eight feet below the surface of the earth? Be particular, I beg of you, about the depth. You saw how Gladstone destroyed that elegant case of Poerio, all for want of a little accuracy in his measurements; for, I must observe to you, in all our 'correspondence,' names, dates, and distances require to be true as the Bible. Facts admit of varnishing. They can be always stretched a little this way or that. Now, for instance, we 'll call the conduct of the authorities in this case brutal, cowardly, and disgraceful. We 'll appeal to the universally acknowledged right of Englishmen to do everything everywhere, and we 'll wind up with a grand peroration about Despotism and the glorious privileges of the British Constitution."

The fellow chuckled over my case with unfeigned satisfaction. He would n't listen to the real, plain facts of the matter at all. They were poor, meagre, and insignificant in themselves, till they had acquired the touch of genius to illustrate them; and though I was a gem, as he owned, yet, like the Koh-i-noor, I was nothing without cutting. He appears, besides, to think that he has a kind of vested interest in me, now that my case is to figure in his newspaper, and he contradicts my own statements flatly wherever they don't suit him.

I have just despatched James to assure him that I don't care a rush about the sympathy of the whole British public; that I have no taste for martyrdom; and that, as to expending any hopes in redress from our Foreign Office, I'd as soon make an investment in Poyais Scrip, or Irish Canal Debentures. I trust that he will be induced to leave me alone, and neither make me matter for the Press nor a speech in Parliament.

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?"

"I have not the slightest notion," said I. "I'm waiting for letters from Ireland," – yours, my dear Tom, the chief of them, – "and therefore it must be somewhere in the vicinity."

"Go over to Rastadt, then," said he, "and amuse yourself with the fortifications: they are now in course of construction, and when completed will be some of the strongest in Europe. I 'll give you a letter to the Commandant, who will show all that can interest you, and explain everything that you may wish to know." Rastadt is only twenty miles away; it is, however, in all that regards intercourse with Baden, fully two hundred distant. It is cheap, rarely visited by strangers, has no "fashionables," and, in fact, just the kind of model-prison residence that I was wishing for to discipline the family, and get them once more "in hand."

Thither, therefore, we remove to-morrow morning, if nothing unforeseen should occur in the interim. Morris, as you may observe, behaved most kindly in this affair; and, indeed, showed a strong interest in James, from certain remarks the boy himself has let drop; but he seems cold, Tom, – one of those excellent fellows that are always doing the right thing for its own sake, and not for yours. I don't want to disparage principle, no more than I do a great balance at Coutts's, or anything else that I don't possess myself; but I mean to say that, somehow or other, one likes to feel that it is to yourself, as an individual, – to your own proper identity, – a service is rendered, and not to a mere fraction of that great biped race that wear cloth clothes and eat cooked victuals.

That's the way with the English, however, all over the globe, and I have often felt more grateful to an Irishman for helping me on with my surtout than I have to John Bull for a real downright piece of service. I suppose the fault is more mine than his; but the fact is true, and so I give it to you. I suppose, besides, that an impartial observer of both of as would say that we make too much of every favor, and the Englishman too little; we exact all the obligation of a debt for it, they treat the whole thing lightly, as if the service rendered, and those to whom it was done, were not worthy of further consideration. However we strike the balance between us, Tom, – in our favor or against us, – I own to you I like our own way best; and though nothing could be truly more kind and considerate than Morris, it was quite a relief to me when he gave me his cold shake-hands, and said "Good-bye!"

And so it will ever be, so long as human actions are swayed by human emotions. The man who recognizes your feelings, who regards you with some touch of sympathy, is more your friend than the benevolent machine who bestows upon you his mechanical philanthropy.

"The Golden Ox," Rastadt. We left Lichtenthal like a thief in the night; and here we are now in the "Golden Ox" at Rastadt, which, I own to you, seems a most comfortable house. James and I – for we are now two parties domestically, Mrs. D. and Mary Anne living very much to themselves, and Cary still on a visit with Morris's mother – had a most excellent breakfast of fresh trout, a roast partridge, a venison steak with capers – a capital dish – and chocolate, with abundance of good white wine of the place, and on calling for the bill, out of curiosity, I see we are charged something under a florin for two of us, – about tenpence each. Tom, this will do. You may therefore look upon me as a citizen of Rastadt for the next month to come. I have kept my letter by me hitherto, to give you a bulletin of this place before closing it, and I have still some time at my disposal before the post leaves.

I'm not sure, though, I'd exactly recommend this town to a patient laboring under nervous headaches, or to a university man reading for honors. Indeed, up to this – I suppose I 'll get used to it later on – the din has so addled me that I have often to stand two minutes reflecting over what I had to say, and then own that I have forgotten it. We are – that is, the "Ox" is – in the quietest spot in the town, and yet close under my bedroom there are, from early morning till dusk, twelve drummers at practice, with a head drummer to teach them. In the green, before the door, two companies of recruits are at drill. The foot artillery limbers and unlimbers all day in the "Platz" close by, and what should be our garden is a riding-school for the cadets. These several educational establishments have their peculiar tumult, which accompany me through my sleep; and for all the requirements of quiet and reflection, I might as well have taken up my abode in a kettle-drum. Liège was a Trappist monastery in comparison! As it is, the routine tramp of feet has made me conform to the step, and I march "quick" or "orderly," exactly as the fellows are doing it outside. I swallow my soup to the sound of a trumpet, and take off my clothes to the roll of the drum. James is in ecstasy with it all; I never saw him enjoy himself so much. He is out looking at them the entire day, and I 'm greatly mistaken but Mary Anne passes a large portion of her time at the green "jalousie" that opens over the riding-school.