Volume I Part 5 (2/2)
”What are you at now?” cried I, almost losing all patience.
”Yes, sir,” said she, in a grand melodramatic tone that she always reserves for the peroration,--as postilions keep a trot for the town,--”yes, sir, I am well accustomed to your perfidy and dissimulation. I know perfectly for what infamous purposes abroad your family are treated so ignominiously at home; I'm no stranger to your doings.” I tried to stop her by an appeal to common-sense; she despised it. I invoked my age,--egad! I never put my foot in it till then.
That was exactly what made me the greatest villain of all! Whatever veneration attaches to white hairs, it must be owned they get mighty ill treated in discussions like the present; at least, Mrs. D. a.s.sured me so, and gave me to understand that one pays a higher premium for their morality, as they do for their life-a.s.surance, as they grow older.
”Not,” added she, as her eyes glittered with anger, and she sidled near the door for an exit,--”not but, in the estimation of others, you may be quite an Adonis,--a young gentleman of wit and fas.h.i.+on,--a beau of the first water; I have no doubt Mary Jane thinks so,--you old wretch!”
This, in all, and a bang of the door that brought down an oil picture that hung over it, closed the scene.
”Mary Jane thinks so!” said I, with my hand to my temples to collect myself. Ah, Tom! it would have required a cooler head than mine was at that moment to go hunting through the old archives of memory! Nor will I torment you with even a narrative of my struggles. I pa.s.sed that evening and the night in a state of half distraction; and it was only when I was giving one of our lawyers a check the next morning that I unravelled the mystery, for, as I wrote down his name, I perceived it was Marie Jean de Rastanac,--a not uncommon Christian name for men, though, considering the length and breadth of the masculine calendar; a very needless appropriation.
This was ”Mary Jane,” then, and this the origin of as pretty a conjugal flare-up as I remember for the last twelvemonth!
Mrs. D. reminds me of the Opposition, and the Opposition of Vickars. I suppose he wants to be a Lord of the Treasury. It's very like what old Frederick used to call making a ”goat a gardener.” What rogues the fellows are! You write to them about your son or your nephew, and they answer you with some tawdry balderdash about their principles, as if any one of us ever believed they were troubled with principles! I'm all for fair straightforward dealing. Put James in the Board of Trade, and you may cut up the Caffres for ten years to come. Give us something in the Customs, and I don't care if New Zealand never has a const.i.tution! 'Tis only the fellows that have no families ask questions at the hustings!
Show me a man that wants _pledges_ from his _representative_, and I 'll show you one that has got none from his wife!
And there's Vickars writing to me, as if I was a fool, about all the old clap-traps that we used to think were kept for the election dinner; and these chaps, like him, always spoil a good argument when they get hold of it. Now, when a parson has n't tact enough to write his sermons, he buys a volume of Tillotson or Blair, or any other, and reads one out as well as he can; but your member--G.o.d bless the mark!--must invent his own nonsense. How much better if he 'd give you Peel, or Russell, or Ben Disraeli in the original! There are skeleton sermons for drowsy curates; I wish any one would compose skeleton speeches for the county members.
You 'll say that I 'm unreasonably testy about these things; but I 've got a letter this instant from Vickers, expressing his hope that I 'll be satisfied with the view he has taken on the ”question of free-labor sugar.” Did I ever dispute it, Tom? I drink no tea,--I hate sweet things, and, except a lump, and that a small one, that I take in my tumbler of punch, I never use sugar; and I care no more what 'a the color of the man that raises it than I do for the name of the supercargo that brought it over. Don't put c.o.c.kroaches in it, and sell it cheap, and I don't care a bra.s.s farthing whether it grew in Barbary or Barbadoes! Not, my dear Tom, but it's all gammon, the way they discuss the question; for the two parties are always debating two different issues; one crying out cheap sugar, the other no slavery! and the consequence is, they never meet in argument As to the preference Vickars insists should be given to free-labor sugar, carry out the principle and see what it comes to. I ought to receive eight or ten s.h.i.+llings a barrel more for my wheat than old Joe M'Curdy, because _I_ always gave my laborers eight-pence a day, and _he_ never went higher than sixpence, more often fourpence. Is not that free labor and slavery, just as well exemplified as if every man in the barony was a black?
They tell me the n.i.g.g.e.rs won't work if you don't thrash them, and I don't wonder, when I think of the heat of the climate; but sure if they've more idleness, they ought to get less money; and lastly, I take the Abolitionists--bother it for a long word!--on their own ground, and are they prepared to say that if you impose a duty on slave sugar, the Cubans and the rest of them won't only take more out of the n.i.g.g.e.rs to meet ”the exigency of the market,” as the newspapers call it? If they do so, they 'll only be imitating our own farmers since the repeal of the corn law. ”You must bestir yourselves,” says Lord Stanley; ”compet.i.tion with the foreigner will demand all your activity. It won't do to go on as you used. You must buy guano, take to drainage, study Smith of Deanstown, and mind the rotation of your crops.” Don't you think that some enlightened Cuban will hit upon the same train of argument, and make a fresh investment in whipcord? Ah, Tom! these are only party squabbles, after all; and so I told Vickars. I don't know why, but it always seemed to me that the blacks absorb a very unfair amount of our loose sympathies; whether it's the color of them, or that they 're so far away, or because they 're naked, I never knew; but certain it is, we pity them far more than our own people, and I back myself to get up a ladies' committee for a n.i.g.g.e.r question, before you collect three people to hear you discuss a home grievance.
I have just been interrupted to receive Monsieur Jellicot, my defender in action No. 3, a suit preferred by my late courier, ”Franois Tehetuer, born in the canton of Zug, aged thirty-seven years, single, and a Protestant, against Monsieur Kenyidod, natif d'Irlande, prs de Dublin, dans le Royaume de la Grande Bretagne,” &c., &c.; the demand being for a year's wages, bed, board, and travelling expenses to his native country. He, the aforesaid Franois, having been sent away for a disgraceful riot in my house, in which he beat Pat, the other servant, and smashed about five-and-twenty pounds' worth of gla.s.s and china. A very pretty claim, Tom,--the preliminary resistance to which has already cost me about one hundred and fifty francs to remove the litigation into an upper court, where the bribery is higher, and consequently deemed more within the reach of _my_ finances than those of honest Francis!
To tell you all that I think of the rascality of the administration of justice here, would lead me into a diffusiveness something like that of the pleasant ”Mmoire” which my advocate has just left me to read, and in which, as a measure of defence against an iniquitous demand, I 'm obliged to give a short history of my life, with some account of my father and grandfather. I made it as brief as I could, and said nothing about the mortgages nor Hackett's bond; but even with all my conciseness, the thing is very voluminous. The greatest difficulty of all is the examination of Paddy Byrne, who, imagining that a law process cannot have any other object than either to hang or transport _him_, has already made two efforts at escape, and each time been brought back by the police. His repugnance to the course of justice has already damaged my case with my own defender, who, naturally enough, thinks if _my own_ witnesses are so little to my credit, what will be the _opposite_ evidence?
Another of my ”causes clbres,” as Cary calls them,--she is the only one of us has a laugh left in her,--is for the a.s.sault and battery of a certain Mr. Cherry, a little rascal that came one day to tell me that Mrs. D. 's appearance struck him as being more fascinating than respectable! I kicked him downstairs into the street, and in return he has dragged me into the Court of the Correctional Police, where I 'm told they 'll maul _me_ far worse than I did him; besides this, I have a small interlude suit for a breach of contract, in not taking a lodging next an Anatomy School; and lastly, James's duel! I have compromised fully double the number, and have received vague threats from different quarters, that may either mean being waylaid or prosecuted, as the case may be.
So far, therefore, as economy goes, this Continentalizing has not succeeded up to this. Instead of living rent free at Dodsborough, with our own mutton and turnips, the ducks and peas, that cost us, I may say, nothing, here we are, keeping up the price of foreign markets, and feeding the foreigners at the expense of our own poor people. If, instead of excluding British manufactures from the Continent, Bony had only struck out the notion of seducing over here John Bull himself and his family, let me a.s.sure you, Tom, that he'd have done us far more lasting and irreparable mischief. We can do without their markets. What between their Zollvereins, their hostile tariffs, and troublesome trade restrictions, they have themselves taught us to do without them; and, indeed, except when we get up a row at Barcelona, and smuggle five or six hundred thousand pounds' worth of goods into Spain, we care little for the old Continent; but I 'll tell you what we cannot do without,--we cannot do without their truffled turkeys, their tenors, their men-cooks, and their dancing-women. French novels and Italian knavery have got a fast hold of us; and I doubt much if the polite world of England would n't rather see this country cut off from all the commerce of America than be themselves excluded from the wicked old cities of Europe!
When I think of myself holding these opinions, and still living abroad, I almost fancy I was meant for a Parliamentary life; for a.s.suredly my convictions and my actions are about as contradictory as any honorable or right honorable gentleman on either side of the House. But so it is, Tom. Whatever 's the reason of it I can't tell, but I believe in my heart that every Irishman is always doing something or other that he doesn't approve of; and that this is the real secret of that want of conduct, deficient steadiness, uncertainty of purpose, and all the other faults that our polite neighbors ascribe to us, and what the ”Times” has a word of its own for, and sets shortly down as ”Celtic barbarism.” And between ourselves, the ”Times” is too fond of blackguarding us. What's the use of it? What good does it ever do? I may throw mud at a man every day till the end of the world, but I 'll never make his face the cleaner for it!
The same system we used to follow once with America; and at last, what with sneering and jibing, we got up a worse feeling between the two countries than ever existed in the heat of the war. No matter how stupid the writer, how little he saw, or how ill he told it, let a fellow come back from the United States with a good string of stories about whittling, spitting, and chewing, interlard the narrative with a full share of slang, show up Jonathan as a vulgar, obtrusive, self-important animal, boastful and ignorant, and I 'll back the book to run through its two or three editions with a devouring and delighted public. But what would you think of a man that went down to Leeds or Manchester, to look at some of our great factories at full work; who saw the evidences of our enterprise and industry, that are felt at the uttermost ends of the earth; who knew that every bang of that big piston had its responsive answer in some far-away land over the sea, where British skill and energy were diffusing comfort and civilization,--what, I say, would you think of him if, instead of standing amazed at the future before such a people, he sat down to chronicle how many fustian jackets had holes in them, how many shaved but twice a week, whether the overseer made a polite bow, or the timekeeper talked with a strong Yorks.h.i.+re accent?
I tell you, Tom, our travellers in the States did little other than this. I don't mean to say that it wouldn't be pleasanter and prettier to look at, if all the factory-folk were dressed like Young England, with white waistcoats and cravats, and all the young ladies wore silk petticoats and white satin shoes; but I'm afraid that, considering the work to do, that's scarcely practicable; and so with regard to America, considering the work to do,--ay, Tom, and the way they are doing it,--I 'm not over-disposed to be critical about certain asperities that are sure to rub off in time, particularly if we don't sharpen them into spikes by our own awkward attempts to polish them.
If I was able, I'd like to write a book about America. I'd like to inquire, first, if, seeing the problem that the Yankees are trying to solve, the way they have set about it is the best and the shortest? I'd like, too, to study what secret machinery combines a weak government and a strong people,--the very reverse of what we see in the Old World, where the governments are strong and the people weak? I'd like to find out, if I could, why people that, for the most part, have formed the least subordinate populations of the Old World, behave so remarkably well in the New?
In running off into these topics, Tom, I suppose I'm like every one else, who, in proportion as his own affairs become embarra.s.sed, takes a wonderful interest in those of his neighbors. Half the patriotism in the world comes out of the bankruptcy courts.
And, here's Monsieur Gabriel Dulong ”for my instructions _in re_ Cherry,” as if to recall me from foreign affairs, and once more bring back my wandering thoughts to the Home Office.
Write to me, Tom, and send me money. You have no idea how it goes here; and as for the bankers, I never met the like of them! The exchange is always against you, and if you want a ten-pound English note, they'll make you smart for it.
The more I see of this foreign life, the less I like it. I know that we have been unfortunate in one or two respects. I know that it is rash in me to speak on so brief an acquaintance with it, but I already dread our being more intimate. Mrs. D. is not the woman you knew her. No more thrift, no more saving,--none of that looking after trifles that, however we may laugh at in our wives, we are right glad to profit by.
She has taken a new turn, and fancies, G.o.d forgive her! that we have an elegant estate, and a fine, thriving, solvent tenantry. Wherever the delusion came from, I cannot guess; but I 'm certain that the little slip of sea between Dover and Calais is the origin of more false notions and extravagant fancies than the wide Atlantic.
I have been thinking for some days back that you ought to write me a strong letter,--you know what I mean, Tom,--a strong letter about matters at home. There's no great difficulty, when a man lives in Ireland, to make out a good list of grievances.
Give it to us, then, and let us have our fill of rotten potatoes, blighted wheat, runaway tenants, and workhouse riots. Throw in a murder if you like, and make it ”strong,” Tom. Say that, considering the cheapness of the Continent, we draw a terrible sight of money, and add that you can't imagine what we do with the cash. Put ”Strictly private and confidential” on the outside, and I 'll take care to be out of the way when it comes. You can guess that Mrs. D. will soon open it, and perhaps it may give her a shock. Is n't it hard that I have to go about the bush in this way? but that's what we 're come to. If I hint a word about expense, they look on me as if I was Shylock; and I believe they 'd rather hear me blaspheme than say the phrase ”economy.” I think, from what I see in James, that he's fretting about this very same thing. He did n't say exactly _that_, but he dropped a remark the other day that showed me he was grieved by the turn for dress and finery that Mrs. D.
<script>