The Dodd Family Abroad, Vol. I

"And what did that portend, ma'am?" said K. I., with his usual sneer.

"Can't you guess?" said I. "Might n't it mean an effort to get rid of the stain of a low connection?" Was n't that a home-thrust, Molly? Faith, he felt it so!

"Mrs. D.," said he, gravely, and as if after profound thought, "this is a question of our child's happiness for life-long, and if we are to discuss it at all, let it be without any admixture of attack or recrimination."

"Who began it?" said I.

"You did, my dear," said he.

"I did n't," said I; "and I 'm not 'your dear.' Oh, you needn't sigh that way; your case isn't half so bad as you think it, but, like all men, you fancy yourself cruelly treated whenever the slightest bar is placed to your bad passions. You argue as if wickedness was good for your constitution."

"Have you done?" said he.

"Not yet," said I, taking a chair in front of him.

"When you have, then," said he, "call me, for I 'll go out and sit on the stairs." But I put my back to the door, Molly, so that he had nothing for it but to resume his seat. "Let us move the order of the day, Mrs. D.," said he, – "this business of Mary Anne. My opinion of it is told in few words. These mixed marriages seldom succeed. Even with long previous intimacy, suitable fortune, and equality of station, there is that in a difference of nationality that opens a hundred discrepancies in taste, feeling – "

"Bother!" said I, "we have just as much when we come from the same stock."

"Sometimes," said he, sighing.

"Here's what he says, mother," said James, and read out the letter, which I am bound to say, Molly, was a curiosity in its way; for though it had such a strange look, it turned out to be in English, or at least what the Baron thought was such. Happily there was no mistaking the meaning; and as I said to K. I., "At least there 's one thing in the Baron's favor, – there's neither deceit nor subterfuge about him. He makes his proposal like a man!" And let me tell you, Molly, we live in an age when even that same is a virtue; for really, with the liberties that's allowed, and the way girls goes on, there 's no saying what intentions men have at all!

Some mothers make a point of never seeing anything; but that may be carried too far, particularly abroad, my dear. Others are for always being dragons, but that is sure to scare off the men; and as I say, what's the use of birdlime if you 're always shouting and screaming!

My notion is, Molly, that a moderate degree of what the French call "surveillance" is the right thing, – a manner that seems to say, "I 'm looking at you: I'm not against innocent enjoyments, and so forth, but I won't stand any nonsense, nor falling in love." Many 's the time the right man is scared away by a new flirtation, that meant nothing. "She's too gay for me– she has a look in her eye, or a toss of the head, or a – Heaven knows – I don't like."

"Does she care for him?" said K. I. "Does Mary Anne care for him? – that's the question."

"Of course she does," said I. "If a girl's affections are not engaged in some other quarter, she always cares for the man that proposes for her. Is n't he a good match?"

"He as much as says so himself."

"And a Baron?"

"Yes."

"And has an elegant place, with a park of miles round it?"

"So he says."

"Well, then, I 'm sure I see nothing to prevent her being attached to him."

"At all events, let us speak to her," said he, and sent James upstairs to fetch her down.

Short as the time was that he was away, it was enough for K. I. to get into one of his passions, just because I gave him the friendly caution that he ought to be delicate and guarded in the way he mentioned the matter to Mary Anne.

"Is n't she my daughter?" said he, with a stamp of his foot; and just for that, Molly, I would n't give him the satisfaction to say she is.

"I ask you," cried he again, "isn't she my daughter?"

Not a syllable would I answer him.

"Well, maybe she is n't," said he; "but my authority over her is all the same."

"Oh, you can be as cruel and tyrannical as you please," said I.

"Look now, Mrs. D. – " said he; but, fortunately, Molly, just at that moment James and his sister came in, and he stopped suddenly.

"Oh, dearest papa," cried Mary Anne, falling at his feet, and hiding her face in her hands, "how can I leave you, and dear, dear mamma?"

"That's what we are going to talk over, my dear," said he, quite dryly, and taking a pinch of snuff.

"Your father is never overpowered by his commotions, my love," said I.

"To forsake my happy home!" sobbed Mary Anne, as if her heart was breaking. "Oh, what an agony to think of!"

"To be sure it is," said K. I., in the same hard, husky voice; "but it's what we see done every day. Ask your mother – "

"Don't ask me to justify it," said I. "My experiences go all the other way."

"At any rate you ventured on the experiment," said he, with a grin. Then, turning to Mary Anne, he went on: "I see that James has informed you on this affair, and it only remains for me now to ask you what your sentiments are.

"Oh, my poor heart!" said she, pressing her hand to her side, "how can I divide its allegiance?"

"Don't try that, at all events," said he, "for though I never thought him a suitable match for you, my dear, if you really do feel an attachment to Peter Belton – "

"Of course I do not, papa."

"Of course she does not – never did – never could," said I.

"So much the better," said he; "and now for this Baron von – I never can remember his name – do you think you could be happy with him? Or do you know enough of his temper, tastes, and disposition to answer that question?"

"I 'm sure he is a most amiable person; he is exceedingly clever and accomplished – "

"I don't care a brass bodkin for all that," broke in K. I. "A man may be as wise as the bench of bishops, and be a bad husband."

"Let me talk to Mary Anne," said I. It's only a female heart, Molly, understands these cases; for men discuss them as if they were matters of reason! And with that I marched her off with me to my own room.

I need n't tell you all I said, nor what she replied to me; but this much I will say, a more sensible girl I never saw. She took in the whole of our situation at once. She perceived that there was no saying how long K. I. might be induced to remain abroad; it might be, perhaps, to-morrow, or next day, that he'd decide to go back to Ireland. What a position we 'd be in, then! "I don't doubt," says she, "but if time were allowed me, I could do better than this. With the knowledge I have now of life, I feel very confident; but if we are to be marched off before the campaign begins, mamma, how are we to win our laurels?" Them's her words, Molly, and they express her meaning beautifully.

We agreed at last that the best thing was to accept the invitation to the castle, and when we saw the place, and the way of living, we could then decide on the offer of marriage.

If I could only repeat to you the remarks Mary Anne made about this, you 'd see what a girl she was, and what a wonderful degree of intelligence she possesses. Even on the point that K. I. himself raised a doubt, – the difference of nationality and language, – she summed up the whole question in a few words. Her observation was, that this very circumstance was rather an advantage than otherwise, "as offering a barrier against the over-intimacy and over-familiarity that is the bane of married life."

"The fact is, mamma," said she, "people do not conform to each other. They make a show of doing so, and they become hypocrites, – great or little ones, as their talents decide for them, – but their real characters remain at bottom unchanged. Now, married to a foreigner, a woman need not even affect to assume his tastes and habits. She may always follow her own, and set them down, whatever they be, to the score of her peculiar nationality."

She is really, Molly, an astonishing girl, and in all that regards life and knowledge of mankind, I never met her equal. As to Caroline, she never could have made such a remark. The advantages of the Continent are clean thrown away on her; she knows no more of the world than the day we left Dodsborough. Indeed, I sometimes half regret that we did n't leave her behind with the Doolans; for I observe that whenever foreign travel fails in inculcating new refinement and genteel notions, it is sure to strengthen all old prejudices, and suggest a most absurd attachment to one's own country; and when that happens to be Ireland, Molly, I need scarcely say how injurious the tendency is! It's very dreadful, my dear, but it's equally true, whenever anything is out of fashion, in bad taste, vulgar, or common, you 're sure to hear it called Irish, though, maybe, it never crossed the Channel; and out of self-defence one is obliged to adopt the custom.

On one point Mary Anne and myself were both agreed. It is next to impossible for any one but a banker's daughter, or in the ballet, to get a husband in the peerage at home. The nobility, with us, are either very cunning or very foolish. As to the gentry class, they never think of them at all. The consequence is, that a girl who wishes for a title must take a foreigner. Now, Molly, German nobility is mightily like German silver, – it has only a look of the real article; but if you can't afford the right thing, it is better than the vulgar metal!

Mary Anne has declared, over and over again, that nothing would induce her to be Mrs. Anybody. As she says, "Your whole life is passed in a struggle, if not heralded by a designation, even though it only be 'Madame.'" And sure nobody knows this better than I do. Has n't the odious name weighed me down for years past?

"Take him, then, my dear child," said I, – "take him, then, and may you have luck in your choice! It will be a consolation to me, in all my troubles and trials, to know that one of my girls at least sustains the honor of her mother's family. You 'll be a baroness, at all events."

She pressed my hand affectionately, Molly, but said nothing. I saw that the poor dear child was n't doing it all without some sacrifice or other; but I was too prudent to ask questions. There 's nothing, in my opinion, does such mischief as the system of probing and poking into wounds of the affections; it's the sure way to keep them open, and prevent their healing; so that I kept on, never minding, and only talked of "the Baron."

"It will kill the Davises," said she, at last; "they'll die of spite when they hear it."

"That they will," said I; "and they'll deny it to all the neighbors, till it's copied into the country papers out of the 'Morning Post' What will become of all their sneering remarks about going abroad now, I wonder! Faith, my dear, you might live long enough at Bruff without seeing a baron."

"I think Mr. Peter, too, will at last perceive the outrageous absurdity of his pretensions," said she. "The Castle of Wolfenfels is not exactly like the village dispensary."

In a word, my dear Molly, we considered the question in all its bearings, and agreed that though we had rather he was a viscount, with a fine estate at home, yet that the thing was still too good to refuse. "It's a fine position," said Mary Anne, "and I'll see if I can't improve it." We agreed, as Caroline was so happy where she was, – on a visit with this Mrs. Morris, – that we 'd leave her there a little longer; for, as Mary Anne remarked, "She's so natural and so frank and so very confiding, she'll just tell everything about us, and spoil all!" And it is true, Molly. That girl has no more notion of the difficulties it costs us to be what we are, and where we are, than if she was n't one of the family. She's a regular Dodd, and no more need be said.

The next day, you may be sure, was n't an idle one. We had to pack all our things, to get a new livery made for Paddy Byrne, and to hire a travelling-carriage, so that we might make our appearance in a style becoming us. Betty, too, had to be drilled how she was to behave in a great house full of servants, and taught not to expose us by any of her outlandish ways. Mary Anne had her up to eat before her, and teach her various politenesses; but the saints alone can tell how the lesson will prosper.

We started from Rastadt in great style, – six posters, and a riding courier in front, to order relays on the road. Even the sight of it, Molly, and the tramp of the horses, and the jingle of the bells on the harness, all did me good, for I 'm of a susceptible nature; and what between my sensations at the moment, and the thought of all before us, I cried heartily for the first two stages.

"If it overcomes you so much," said K. I., "don't you think you'd better turn back?"

Did you ever hear brutality like that speech, Molly? I ask you, in all your experience of life, did you ever know of any man that could make himself so odious? You may be sure I did n't cry much after that! I made it so comfortable to him that he was glad to exchange places with Betty, and get into the rumble for the remainder of the journey.

Betty herself, too, was in one of her blessed tempers, all because Mary Anne would n't let her stick all the old artificial flowers, that were thrown away, over her bonnet. As Mary Anne said to her, "she only wanted wax-candles to be like a Christmas-tree." The consequence was that she cried and howled all the way, till we dined; after that she slept and snored awfully. To mend matters, Paddy got very drunk, and had to be tied on the box, and drew a crowd round us, at every place we changed horses, by his yells. In other respects the journey was agreeable.

We supped at a place called Offenburg; and, indeed, I thought we 'd never get away from it, for K. I. found out that the landlord could speak English, and was, besides, a great farmer; and, in spite of Mary Anne and myself, he had the man in to supper, and there they sat, smoking, and drinking, and prosing about clover and green crops and flax, and such things, till past midnight. However, it did one thing, – it made K. I. good-humored for the rest of the way; for the truth is, Molly, the nature of the man is unchanged, and, I believe, unchangeable. Do what we will, take him where we may, give him all the advantages of high life and genteel society, but his heart will still cling to yearling heifers and ewes; and he'd rather be at Ballinasloe than a ball at Buckingham Palace.

We ought to have been at Freyburg in time to sleep, but we did n't get there till breakfast hour. I 'm mighty particular about all the names of these places, Molly, for it will amuse you to trace our journey on the celestial globe in the schoolroom, and then you'll perceive how we are going "round the world" in earnest.

After breakfast we went to see the cathedral of the town. It is really a fine sight; and the carving that's thrown away in dark, out-of-the-way places, would make two other churches. The most beautiful thing of all, however, is an image of the Virgin, sheltering under her cloak more than a dozen cardinals and bishops. She is looking down at the creatures – for they are all made small in comparison – with an angelical smile, as much as to say, "Keep quiet, and nobody will see you." I suppose she wants to get them into heaven "unknownst;" or, as James rather irreverently expressed it, "going to do it by a dodge." To judge by their faces, they are not quite at their ease; they seem to think that their case isn't too good, and that it will go hard with them if they 're found out! And I suppose, my dear Molly, that's the way with the best of us. Sure, with all our plotting and scheming for the good of our children, after lives of every kind of device, ain't we often masses of corruption? – isn't our very best thoughts, sometimes, wicked enough? Them was exactly my own meditations, as I sat alone in a dark corner of the church, musing and reflecting, and only brought to myself as I heard K. I. fighting with one of the "beagles" – I think they call them – about a bad groschen in change!

"I'm never in a heavenly frame of mind, K. I." said I to him, "that you don't bring me back to earthly feelings with your meanness."

"If you told me you were going to heaven, Mrs. D.," said he, "I would n't have brought you out of it for worlds!"

It did n't need the grin that he gave, to show me what the meaning of this speech was. The old wretch said as much as that he wished me dead and buried; so I just gave him a look, and passed out of the church with contempt. Oh, Molly, Molly, whatever may be your spire in life, never descend from it for a husband!

You 'll laugh when I tell you that we left this place by the Valley of Hell. That's the name of it; and so far as gloom and darkness goes, not a bad name either. It is a deep, narrow glen, with only room for a narrow road at the bottom of it, and over your head the rocks seem ready to tumble down and crush you to atoms. Instead, too, of getting through it as fast as we could, K. I. used to stop the carriage, and get out to "examine the position," as he called it; for it seems that a great French general once made a wonderful retreat through this same pass years ago. K. I. and James had bought a map, and this they used to spread out on the ground; and sometimes they got into disputing about the name of this place or that, so that the Valley of Hell had its share of torments for me and Mary Anne before we got out of it.

At a little lake called the "Titi See" – be sure you look for it on the globe, and you'll know it by a small island in it with willow-trees – we found that the Baron had sent horses to meet us, and eight miles more brought us to the place of our destiny. I own to you, Molly, that I could have cried with sheer disappointment, when I found we were in the demesne without knowing it. I was always looking out for a grand entrance, – maybe an archway between two towers, like Nockslobber Castle, or an elegant cut-stone building, with a lodge at each side, like Dolly Mount; but there we were, Molly, driving through deep clay roads, with great fields of maize at each side of us, and neither a gate nor a hedge, – not a bit of paling to be seen anywhere. There were trees enough, but they were ugly pines and firs, or beech, with all the lower branches lopped away for firewood. We had two miles or more of this interesting landscape, and then we came out upon a great wide space planted with mangel and beetroot, and all cut up with little drains, or canals of running water; and in the middle of this, like a great, big, black, dirty jail, stood the Castle of Wolfenfels. I give you my first impressions honestly, Molly, because, on nearer acquaintance, I have lived to see them changed.

I must say our reception drove all other thoughts away. The old Baron was confined to his room with the gout, and could n't come down to meet us; but the discharge of cannon, the sounds of music, and the joyful shouts of the people – of whom there were some hundreds assembled – was really imposing.

The young Baron, too, looked far more awake and alive than he used to do at Bonn; and he was dressed in a kind of uniform that rather became him. He was overjoyed at our arrival, and kissed K. I. and James on both cheeks, and made them look very much ashamed before all the people.

"Never was my poor castle so much honored," said he, "since the King of – somewhere I forget – came to pass the night here with my ancestor, Conrad von Wolfenschafer; and that was in the sixth century."

"Begad, it's easy to see you have had no encumbered estates court," said K. I., "or you would n't be here to tell us that."

"My ancestor did not hold from the King," said he. "He was not what you call a vessel!"

K. I. laughed, and only said, "Faith, there's many of us mighty weak vessels, and very leaky besides."

After that he conducted us through two lines of his menials.

"I do detest to have so many 'detainers'" – he meant retainers. "I hope you are less annoyed in this respect."

"You don't dislike them more than I do," said K. I.; "the very name makes me shudder."

"How your fader and I agree!" said he to Mary Anne. "We are one family already."

And we all laughed heartily as we went to our rooms. Every country has its own ways and habits, but I must say, Molly, that the furniture of these castles is very mean. There were two children's beds for K. I. and myself, – at least they did not look longer than the beds in the nursery at home, – with what K. I. called a swansdown poultice for coverlid; no curtains of any kind, and the pillows as big as a small mattress. Four oak chairs, and a looking-glass the size of your face, and a chest of drawers that would n't open, and that K. I. had to make serviceable by lifting off the marble slab on the top, – this was all our room contained. There were old swords and pikes hung up in abundance, and a tree of the family history, framed and glazed, over the chimney, – but these had little to do towards making the place comfortable.

"He's a good farmer, anyhow," said K. I., looking out of the window. "I did n't see such turnips since I left England."

"I suppose he has a good steward," said I, for I began to fear that K. I. would make some blunder, and speak to the Baron about crops, and so forth.

"Them drills are as neat as ever I seen," said he, half to himself.

"Look now, K. I.," said I to him, gravely, "make your own remarks on whatever you like, but remember where we are, and that it's exactly the same as if we were on a visit to the Duke of Leinster at home. If you must ask questions about farming, always say, 'How does your steward do this?' 'What does he think of that?' Keep in mind that the aristocracy does n't dirty its fingers abroad as it does in England, with agricultural pursuits, and that they have neither prizes for cows nor cottagers!"

"Mrs. D.," said he, turning on me like a tiger, "are you going to teach me polite breeding and genteel manners?"

"I wish to the saints I could," said I, "if the lesson was only good for a week."

"Look now," said he, "if I detect the slightest appearance of any drilling or training of me, – if I ever find out that you want to impose me on the world for anything but what I am, – may I never do any good if I don't disgrace you all by my behavior!"

"Can you be worse?" said I.

"I can," said he; "a devilish deal worse."

And with that he went out of the room with a bang that nearly tore the door off its hinges, and never came back till late in the evening.

We apologized for his not appearing at dinner by saying that he felt fatigued, and requested that he might be permitted to sleep on undisturbed; and as, happily, he did go to bed when he returned, the excuse succeeded.

So that you see, Molly, even in the midst of splendor and greatness, that man's temper, and the mean ways he has, keeps me in perpetual hot water. I know, besides, that when he is downright angry, he never cares for consequences, nor counts the damage of anything. He 'd just go down and tell the Baron that we had n't a sixpence we could call our own; that Dodsborough was mortgaged for three times its value; and that, maybe, to-morrow or next day we 'd be sold out in the Cumbered Court. He 'd expose me and Mary Anne without the slightest compunctuation, and there 's not a family secret he would n't publish in the servants' hall!

Don't I remember well, when the 55th was quartered at Bruff, he used to boast at the mess that he could n't give his daughters a farthing of fortune, when any man with proper feelings, and a respect for his position, would have made it seem that the girls had a snug thing quite at their own disposal. Isn't the world ready enough, Molly, to detect one's little failings and shortcomings, without our going about to put them in the "Hue and Cry"? But that was always the way with K. I. He used to say, "It's no disgrace to us if we can't do this;" "It's no shame if we 're not rich enough for that" But I say, it is both a shame and a disgrace if it 's found out, Molly. That's the whole of it!

I used to think that coming abroad might have taught him something, – that he 'd see the way other people lived, and similate himself to their manners and customs. Not a bit of it. He grows worse every day. He's more of a Dodd now than the hour he left home. The consequence is that the whole responsibility of supporting the credit of the family is thrown upon me and Mary Anne. I don't mean to say that we are unequal to the task, but surely the whole burden need n't be laid upon our shoulders. That we are on the spot from which I write these lines is all my own doing. When we first met the young Baron at Bonn, K. I. tried to prejudice us against him; he used to ridicule him to James and the girls, and went so far as to say that he was sure he was a low fellow!