Kitabı oku: «The Dodd Family Abroad, Vol. II», sayfa 17
LETTER XXV. JAMES DODD TO ROBERT DOOLAN, ESQ., TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN
Hôtel d'Italie, Florence, Wednesday
My dear Bob, – Here we are going it, and in about the very "fastest" place I ever set foot in. In any other city society seems to reserve itself for evening and lamplight; but here, Bob, you make "running from the start," and keep up the pace till you come in. In the morning there 's the club, with plenty of whist; all the gossip of the town, – and such gossip too, – the real article, by Jove! – no shadowy innuendoes, no vague and half-mystified hints of a flaw here or a crack there, but home blows, my boy, with a smashed character or a ruined reputation at every stroke. This is, however, only a breathing canter for what awaits you at the Cascini, – a sort of "promenade," where all the people meet in their carriages, and exchange confidences in scandal and invitations to tea, – the Cascini being to the club what the ballet is to the opera. After this, you have barely time to dress for dinner; which over, the opera begins. There you pay visits from box to box; learn all that is going on for the evening; hear where the prettiest women are going, and where the smartest play will be found. Midnight arrives, and then – but not before – the real life of Florence begins. The dear Contessa, that never showed by daylight, at last appears in her salon; the charming Marchesa, whose very head-dress is a study from Titian, and whose dark-fringed eyes you think you recognize from the picture in "the Pitti," at length sails in, to receive the humble homage of – what, think you? a score of devoted worshippers, a band of chivalrous adorers? Nothing of the kind, Bob: a dozen or so of young fellows, in all manner of costumes, and all shapes of beards and moustaches; all smoking cigars or cigarettes, talking, singing, laughing, thumping the piano, shouting choruses, playing tricks with cards, – all manner of tomfoolery, in fact; with a dash of enthusiasm in the nonsense that carries you along in spite of yourself. The conversation – if one can dare to call it such – is a wild chaos of turf-talk, politics, scandal, literature, buffoonery, and the ballet. There is abundance of wit, – plenty of real smartness on every side. The fellows who have just described the cut of a tucker can tell you accurately the contents of a treaty; and they who did not seem to have a thought above the depth of a flounce or the width of a sandal, are thoroughly well versed in the politics of every State of Europe. There is no touch of sarcasm in their gayety, – none of that refined, subtle ridicule that runs through a Frenchman's talk; these fellows are eminently good-natured: the code of morals is not severe, and hence the secret of the merciful judgments you hear pronounced on every one.
As to breeding, we English should certainly say there was an excess of familiarity. Everybody puts his arm on your shoulder, pats you on the back, and calls you by your Christian name. I am "Giacomo" to a host of fellows I don't know by name; and "Gemess" to a select few, who pride themselves on speaking English. At all events, Bob, there is no constraint, – no reserve amongst them. You are at your ease at once, and good fellowship is the order of the day.
As to the women, they have a half-shy, half-confident look, that puzzles one sadly. They 'll stand a stare from you most unblushingly; they think it's all very right and very reasonable that you should look at them as long and as fixedly as you would do at a Baffaelle in the Gallery: but with all that, there is a great real delicacy of deportment, and those coram-publico preferences which are occasionally exhibited in England, and even in France, are never seen in Italian society. As to good looks, there is an abundance, but of a character which an Englishman at first will scarcely accept as beauty. They are rarely handsome by feature, but frequently beautiful by expression. There is, besides, a graceful languor, a tender Cleopatra-like voluptuousness in their air that distinguishes them from other women; and I have no doubt that any one who has lived long in Italy would pronounce French smartness and coquetry the very essence of vulgarity. They cannot dress like a Parisian, nor waltz like a Wienerin; but, to my thinking, they are far more captivating than either. I am already in love with four, and I have just heard of a fifth, that I am sure will set me downright distracted. There 's one thing I like especially in them; and I own to you, Bob, it would compensate to me for any amount of defects, which I believe do not pertain to them. It is this: they have no accomplishments, – they neither murder Rossini, nor mar Salvator Rosa; they are not educated to torment society, poison social intercourse, and push politeness to its last entrenchment. You are not called on for silence while they scream, nor for praise when they paint. They do not convert a drawing-room into a boarding-school on examination-day, and they are satisfied to charm you by fascinations that cost you no compromise to admire.
After all, I believe we English are the only people that adopt the other plan. We take a commercial view of the matter, and having invested so much of our money in accomplishment, we like to show our friends that we have made a good speculation. For myself, I 'd as soon be married to a musical snuff-box or a daguerreotype machine as to a "well-brought-up English girl," who had always the benefit of the best masters in music and drawing. The fourth-rate artist in anything is better than the first-rate amateur; and I 'd just as soon wear home-made shoes as listen to home-made music.
I have not been presented in any of the English houses here as yet. There is some wonderful controversy going forward as to whether we are to call first, or to wait to be called on; and I begin to fear that the Carnival will open before it can be settled. The governor, too, has got into a hot controversy with our Minister here, about our presentation at Court. It would appear that the rule is, you should have been presented at home, in order to be eligible for presentation abroad. Now, we have been at the Castle, but never at St James's. The Minister, however, will not recognize reflected royalty; and here we are, suffering under a real Irish grievance O'Connell would have given his eye for. The fun of it is that the Court – at least, I hear so – is crammed with English, who never even saw a Viceroy, nor perhaps partook of the high festivities of a Lord Mayor's Ball. How they got there is not for me to inquire, but I suppose that a vow to a chamberlain is like a customhouse oath, and can always be reconciled to an easy conscience.
We have arrived here at an opportune moment, – time to see all the notorieties of the place at the races, which began to-day. So far as I can learn, the foreigners have adopted the English taste, with the true spirit of imitators; that is, they have given little attention to any improvement in the breed of cattle, but have devoted considerable energy to all the rogueries of the ring, and with such success that Newmarket and Doncaster might still learn something from the "Legs" of the Continent.
Tiverton, who is completely behind the scenes, has told me some strange stories about their doings; and, at the very moment I am writing, horses are being withdrawn, names scratched, forfeits declared, and bets pronounced "off," with a degree of precipitation and haste that shows how little confidence exists amongst the members of the ring. As for myself, not knowing either the course, the horses, nor the colors of the riders, I take my amusement in observing – what is really most laughable – the absurd effort made by certain small folk here to resemble the habits and ways of certain big ones in England. Now it is a retired coach-maker, or a pensioned-off clerk in a Crown office, that jogs down the course, betting-book in hand, trying to look – in the quaintness of his cob, and the trim smugness of his groom – like some old county squire of fifteen thousand a year. Now it is some bluff, middle-aged gent, who, with coat thrown back and thumbs in his waistcoat, insists upon being thought Lord George Bentinck. There are Massy Stanleys, George Paynes, Lord Wiltons, and Colonel Peels by dozens; "gentlemen jocks" swathed in drab paletots, to hide the brighter rays of costume beneath, gallop at full speed across the grass on ponies of most diminutive size; smartly got-up fellows stand under the judge's box, and slang the authorities above, or stare at the ladies in front. There are cold luncheons, sandwiches, champagne, and soda-water; bets, beauties, and bitter beer, – everything, in short, that constitutes races, but horses! The system is that every great man gives a cup, and wins it himself; the only possible interest attending such a process being whether, in some paroxysm of anger at this, or some frump at that, he may not withdraw his horse at the last moment, – an event on which a small knot of gentlemen with dark eyes, thick lips, and aquiline noses seem to speculate as a race chance, and only second in point of interest to a whist party at the Casino with a couple of newly come "Bulls." A more stupid proceeding, therefore, than these races – bating always the fun derived from watching the "snobocracy".
I have mentioned – cannot be conceived. Now it was a walk over; now a "sell;" now two horses of the same owner; now one horse that was owned by three. The private history of the rogueries might possibly amuse, but all that met the public eye was of the very slowest imaginable.
I begin to think, Bob, that horse-racing is only a sport that can be maintained by a great nation abounding in wealth, and with all the appliances of state and splendor. You ought to have gorgeous equipages, magnificent horses, thousands of spectators, stands crowded to the roof by a class such as only exists in great countries. Royalty itself, in all its pomp, should be there; and all that represents the pride and circumstance of a mighty people. To try these things on a small scale is ridiculous, – just as a little navy of one sloop and a steamer! With great proportions and ample verge, the detracting elements are hidden from view. The minor rascalities do not intrude themselves on a scene of such grandeur; and though cheating, knavery, and fraud are there, they are not foreground figures. Now, on a little "race-course," it is exactly the reverse: just as on board of a three-decker you know nothing of the rats, but in a Nile boat they are your bedfellows and your guests at dinner.
To-morrow we are to have a match with gentlemen riders, and if anything worth recording occurs I 'll keep a corner for it Mother is in the grand stand, with any amount of duchesses and marchionesses around her. The governor is wandering about the field, peeping at the cattle, and wondering how the riders are to get round a sharp turn at the end of the course. The girls are on horseback with Tiverton; and, in the long intervals between the matches, I jot down these rough notes for you. The scene itself is beautiful. The field, flanked on one side by the wood of the Cascini, is open on t' other to the mountains: Fiezole, from base to summit, is dotted over with villas half buried in groves of orange and olive trees. The Val d'Arno opens on one side, and the high mountain of Vallombrosa on the other. The gayly dressed and bright-costumed Florentine population throng the ground itself, and over their heads are seen the glorious domes and towers and spires of beautiful Florence, under a broad sky of cloudless blue, and in an atmosphere of rarest purity.
Thursday.
Tiverton has won his match, and with the worst horse too. Of his competitors one fell off; another never got up at all; a third bolted; and a fourth took so much out of his horse in a breathing canter before the race, that the animal was dead beat before he came to the start. And now the knowing ones are going about muttering angry denunciations on the treachery of grooms and trainers, and vowing that "Gli gentlemen riders son grandi bricconi."
I am glad it is over. The whole scene was one of quarrelling, row, and animosity from beginning to end. These people neither know how to win money nor to lose it; and as to the English who figure on such occasions, take my word for it, Bob, the national character gains little by their alliance. It is too soon for me, perhaps, to pronounce in this fashion, but Tiverton has told me so many little private histories – revealed so much of the secret memoirs of these folk – that I believe I am speaking what subsequent experience will amply confirm. For the present, good-bye, and believe me,
Ever yours,
James Dodd.
LETTER XXVI. KENNY DODD TO THOMAS PURCELL, ESQ., ORANGE, BRUFF
Florence, Lungo l'Arno
My dear Tom, – It is nigh a month since I wrote to you last, and if I didn't "steal a few hours from the night, my dear," it might be longer still. The address will tell you where we are, – I wish anybody or anything else would tell you how or why we came here! I intended to have gone back from Genoa, nor do I yet understand what prevented me doing so. My poor head – none of the clearest in what may be called my lucid intervals – is but a very indifferent thinking machine when harassed, worried, and tormented as I have been latterly. You have heard how James's Countess, the Cardinal's niece and the betrothed of a Neapolitan Prince, turned out to be a circus woman, one of those bits of tawdry gold fringe and pink silk pantaloons that dance on a chalked saddle to a one-shilling multitude! By good fortune she had two husbands living, or she might have married the boy. As it was, he has gone into all manner of debt on her account; and if it was not that I can defy ruin in any shape, – for certain excellent reasons you may guess at, – this last exploit of his would go nigh to our utter destruction.
We hurried away out of Genoa in shame, and came on here by slow stages. The womenkind plucked up wonderfully on the way, and I believe of the whole party your humble servant alone carried abasement with him inside the gates of Florence.
My sense of sorrow and shame probably somehow blunted my faculties and dulled my reasoning powers, for I would seem to have concurred in a vast number of plans and arrangements that now, when I have come to myself, strike me with intense astonishment. For instance, we have taken a suite of rooms on the Arno, hired a cook, a carriage, and a courier; we are, I hear, also in negotiation for a box at the "Pergola," and I am credibly informed that I am myself looking out for saddle-horses for the girls, and a "stout-made, square-jointed cob of lively action," to carry myself.
It may be all true – I have no doubt it is more philosophical, as the cant phrase is – to believe Kenny Dodd to be mistaken rather than suppose his whole family deranged, so that if I hear to-morrow or next day that I 'm about to take lessons in singing, or to hire a studio as a sculptor, I 'm fully determined to accept the tidings with a graceful submission. There is only one thing, Tom Purcell, that passes my belief, and that is, that there ever lived as besotted an old fool as your friend Kenny D., a man so thoroughly alive to everything that displeased him, and yet so prone to endure it; so actively bent on going a road the very opposite to the one he wanted to travel; and that entered heart and soul into the spirit of ruining himself, as if it was the very best fun imaginable.
That you can attempt to follow me through the vagaries of this strange frame of mind is more than I expect, neither do I pretend to explain it to you. There it is, however, – make what you can of it, just as you would with a handful of copper money abroad, where there was no clew to the value of a single coin in the mass, but wherewith you are assured you have received your change.
With a fine lodging, smart liveries, a very good cook, and a well-supplied table, I thought it possible that though ruin would follow in about three months, yet in the interval I might probably enjoy a little ease and contentment. At all events, like the Indian, who, when he saw that he must inevitably go over the Falls, put his paddles quietly aside, and resolved to give himself no unnecessary trouble, I also determined I 'd leave the boat alone, and never "fash myself for the future." Wise as this policy may seem, it has not saved me. Mrs. D. is a regular storm-bird! Wherever she goes she carries her own hurricane with her! and I verily believe she could get up a tornado under the equator.
In a little pious paroxysm that seized her in the mountains, she, at the instigation of a stupid old lord there, must needs write a tract about certain miracles that were or were not – for I 'll not answer for either – performed by a saint that for many years back nobody had paid any attention to. This precious volume cost her three weeks' loss of rest, and me about thirty pounds sterling. It was, however, a pious work, and even as a kind of visa on her passport to heaven, I suppose it would be called cheap. I assure you, Tom, I spent the cash grudgingly; that I did pay it at all I thought was about as good "a miracle" as any in the book.
Armed with this tract, she tramped through the Lucchese mountains, leaving copies everywhere, and thrusting her volume into the hands of all who would have it. I 'm no great admirer of this practice in any sect. The world has too many indiscreet people to make this kind of procedure an over-safe one; besides, I 'm not quite certain that even a faulty religion is not preferable to having none at all, and it happens not unfrequently that the convert stops half-way on his road, and leaves one faith without ever reaching the other. I 'll not discuss this matter further; I have trouble enough on my hands without it.
These little tracts of Mrs. D.'s attracted the attention of the authorities. It was quite enough that they had been given away gratis, and by an Englishwoman, to stamp them as attempts to proselytize, and, although they could n't explain how, yet they readily adopted the idea that the whole was written in a figurative style purposely to cover its real object, and so they set lawyers and judges to work, and what between oaths of peasants and affirmations of prefects, they soon made a very pretty case, and yesterday morning, just as we had finished breakfast, a sergeant of the gendarmerie entered the room, and with a military salute asked which was la Signora Dodd? The answer being given, he proceeded to read aloud a paper, that he held in his hand, the contents of which Cary translated for me in a whisper. They were, in fact, a judge's warrant to commit Mrs. D. to prison under no less than nine different sections of a new law on the subject of religion. In vain we assured him that we were all good Catholics, kept every ordinance of the Church, and hated a heretic. He politely bowed to our explanation, but said that with this part of the matter he had nothing to do; that doubtless we should be able to establish our innocence before the tribunal; meanwhile Mrs. D. must go to prison.
I 'm ashamed at all the warmth of indignation we displayed, seeing that this poor fellow was simply discharging his duty, – and that no pleasant one, – but somehow it is so natural to take one's anger out on the nearest official, that we certainly didn't spare him. Tiverton threatened him with the House of Commons; James menaced him with the "Times;" Mary Anne protested that the British fleet would anchor off Leghorn within forty hours; and I hinted that Mazzini should have the earliest information of this new stroke of tyranny. He bore all like – a gendarme! stroked his moustaches, clinked his sword on the ground, put his cocked-hat a little more squarely on his head, and stood at ease. Mrs. D. – there s no guessing how a woman will behave in any exigency – did n't go off, as I thought and expected she would, in strong hysterics; she did n't even show fight; she came out in what, I am free to own, was for her a perfectly new part, and played martyr; ay, Tom, she threw up her eyes, clasped her hands upon her bosom, and said, "Lead me away to the stake – burn me – torture me – cut me in four quarters – tear my flesh off with hot pincers." She suggested a great variety of these practices, and with a volubility that showed me she had studied the subject. Meanwhile the sergeant grew impatient, declared the "séance" was over, and ordered her at once to enter the carriage that stood awaiting her at the door, and which was to convey her to the prison. I need n't dwell on a very painful scene; the end of it was that she was taken away, and though we all followed in another carriage, we were only admitted to a few moments of leave-taking with her, when the massive gates were closed, and she was a captive!
Tiverton told me I must at once go to our Legation and represent the case. "Be stout about it," said he; "say she must be liberated in half an hour. Make the Minister understand you are somebody, and won't stand any humbug. I 'd go," he added, "but I can't do anything against the present Government." A knowing wink accompanied this speech, and though I didn't see the force of the remark, I winked too, and said nothing.
"What language does he speak?" said I, at last.
"Our Minister? English, of course!"
"In that case I 'm off at once;" and away I drove to the Legation. The Minister was engaged. Called again, – he was out. Called later, – he was in conference with the Foreign Secretary. Later still, – he was dressing for dinner. Tipped his valet a Nap. and sent in my card, with a pressing entreaty to be admitted. Message brought back, quite impossible, – must call in the morning. Another Nap. to the flunkey, and asked his advice.
"His Excellency receives this evening, – come as one of the guests."
I did n't half like this counsel, Tom; it was rather an obtrusive line of policy, but what was to be done? I thought for a few minutes, and, seeing no chance of anything better, resolved to adopt it. At ten o'clock, then, behold me ascending a splendidly illuminated staircase, with marble statues on either side, half hid amidst all manner of rare and beautiful plants. Crowds of splendidly dressed people are wending their way upward with myself – doubtless with lighter hearts – which was not a difficult matter. At the top, I find myself in a dense crowd, all a blaze of diamonds and decorations, gorgeous uniforms and jewelled dresses of the most costly magnificence.
I assure you I was perfectly lost in wonderment and admiration. The glare of wax-lights, the splendor of the apartments themselves, and the air of grandeur on every side actually dazzled and astounded me. At each instant I heard the title of Duke and Prince given to some one or other. "Your Highness is looking better;" "I trust your Grace will dance;" "Is the Princess here?" "Pray present me to the Duchess." Egad, Tom, I felt I was really in the very centre of that charmed circle of which one hears so much and yet sees so little.
I need n't say that I knew nobody, and I own to you it was a great relief to me that nobody knew me. Where should I find the Minister in all this chaos of splendor, and if I did succeed, how obtain the means of addressing him? These were very puzzling questions to be solved, and by a brain turning with excitement, and half wild between astonishment and apprehension. On I went, through room after room, – there seemed no end to this gorgeous display. Here they were crushed together, so that stars, crosses, epaulettes, diamond coronets, and jewelled arms seemed all one dense mass; here they were broken into card-parties; here they were at billiards; here dancing; and here all were gathered around a splendid buffet, where the pop, pop of champagne corks explained the lively sallies of the talkers. I was not sorry to find something like refreshment; indeed, I thought my courage stood in need of a glass of wine, and so I set myself vigorously to pierce the firm and compact crowd in front of me. My resolve had scarcely been taken, when I felt a gentle but close pressure within my arm, and on looking down, saw three fingers of a white-gloved hand on my wrist.
I started back; and even before I could turn my head, Tom, I heard a gentle voice murmur in my ear, "Dear creature, – how delighted to see you! – when did you arrive?" and my eyes fell upon Mrs. Gore Hampton! There she was, in all the splendor of full dress, which, I am bound to say, in the present instance meant as small an amount of raiment as any one could well venture out in. That I never saw her look half so beautiful is quite true. Her combs of brilliants set off her glossy hair, and added new brilliancy to her eyes, while her beauteous neck and shoulders actually shone in the brightness of its tints. I bethought me of the "Splügen," Tom, and the cold insolence of her disdain. I tried to summon up indignation to reproach her, but she anticipated me, by saying, with a bewitching smile, "Adolphus isn't here now, Doddy!" Few as the words were, Tom, they revealed a whole history, – they were apology for the past, and assurance for the present. "Still," said I, "you might have – " "What a silly thing it is!" said she, putting her fan on my lips; "and it wants to quarrel with me the very moment of meeting; but it must n't and it sha'n't. Get me some supper, Doddy, – an oyster patty, if there be one, – if not, an ortolan truffé."
This at least was a good sensible speech, and so I wedged firmly into the mass, and, by dint of very considerable pressure, at length landed my fair friend at the buffet. It was, I must say, worth all the labor. There was everything you can think of, from sturgeon to Maraschino jelly, and wines of every land of Europe. It was a good opportunity to taste some rare vintages, and so I made a little excursion through Marcobrunner to Johannisberg, and thence on to Steinberger. Leaving the Rhine land, I coquetted awhile with Burgundy, especially Chambertin, back again, however, to Champagne, for the sake of its icy coldness, to wind up with some wonderful Schumlawer, – a Hungariau tap, – that actually made me wish I had been born a hussar.
It is no use trying to explain to you the tangled maze of my poor bewitched faculties. You, whose experiences in such trials have not gone beyond a struggle for a ham sandwich, or a chicken bone for some asthmatic old lady in black satin, —you can neither comprehend my situation nor compassion ate my difficulties. How shall I convey to your uninformed imagination the bewitching effects of wine, beauty, heat, light, music, soft words, soft glances, blue eyes, and snowy shoulders? I may give you all the details, but you 'll never be able to blend them into that magic mass that melts the heart, and makes such fools of the Kenny Dodds of this world. There is such a thing, believe me, as "an atmosphere of enchantment." There are elements which compose a magical air around you, perfumed with odors, and still more entrancing by flatteries. The appeal is now to your senses, now to your heart, your affections, your intellect, your sympathies; your very self-love is even addressed, and you are more than man, at least more than an Irishman, if you resist.
Egad, Tom, she is a splendid woman! and has that air of gentleness and command about her that somehow subdues you at once. Her little cajoleries – those small nothings of voice and look and touch – are such subtle tempters for one admired even to homage itself.
"You must be my escort, Doddy," said she, drawing on her glove, after fascinating me by the sight of that dimpled hand, and those rose-tipped fingers so full of their own memories for me. "You shall give me your arm, and I'll tell you who every one is." And away we sailed out of the supper-room into the crowded salons.
Our progress was slow, for the crush was tremendous; but, as we went, her recognitions were frequent. Still, I could not but remark, not with women. All, or nearly all, her acquaintances were of, I was going to say the harder, but upon my life I believe the real epithet would be the softer sex. They saluted her with an easy, almost too easy, familiarity. Some only smiled; and one, a scoundrel, – I shall know him again, however, – threw up his eyes with a particular glance towards me, as plainly as possible implying, "Oh, another victim, eh?" As for the ladies, some stared full at her, and then turned abruptly away; some passed without looking; one or two made her low and formal courtesies; and a few put up their glasses to scan her lace flounce or her lappets, as if they were really the great objects to be admired. At last we came to a knot of men talking in a circle round a very pretty woman, whose jet-black eyes and ringlets, with a high color, gave her a most brilliant appearance. The moment she saw Mrs. G. H. she sprang from her seat to embrace her. They spoke in French, and so rapidly that I could catch nothing of what passed; but the dark eyes were suddenly darted towards me with a piercing glance that made me half ashamed.
"Let us take possession of that sofa," said Mrs. Gore, moving towards one. "And now, Doddy, I want to present you to my dearest friend on earth, my own darling Georgina."
Then they both kissed, and I muttered some stupid nonsense of my own.
"This, Georgy, – this is that dear creature of whom you have heard me speak so often; this is that generous, noble-hearted soul whose devotion is written upon my heart; and this," said she, turning to the other side, "this is my more than sister, – my adored Georgina!"
I took my place between them on the sofa, and was formally presented to whom? – guess you? No less a person than Lady George Tiverton! Ay, Tom, the fascinating creature with the dark orbs was another injured woman! I was not to be treated like a common acquaintance, it seemed, for "Georgy" began a recital of her husband's cruelties to me. Of all the wretches I ever heard or read he went far beyond them. There was not an indignity, not an outrage, he had not passed on her. He studied cruelties to inflict upon her. She had been starved, beaten, bruised, and, I believe, chained to a log.
