Volume Ii Part 6 (1/2)
My dear Mr. Purcell,--Poor papa has been so ill since his arrival in Italy, that he could not reply to either of your two last letters, and even now is compelled to employ me as his amanuensis. A misfortune having occurred to our carriage, we were obliged to stop at a small village called Colico, which, as the name implies, was remarkably unhealthy. Here the gout, that had been hovering over him for some days previous, seized him with great violence; no medical aid could be obtained nearer than Milan, a distance of forty miles, and you may imagine the anxiety and terror we all suffered during the interval between despatching the messenger and the arrival of the doctor. As it was, we did not succeed in securing the person we had sent for, he having been that morning sentenced to the galleys for having in his possession some weapon--a surgical instrument, I believe--that was longer or sharper than the law permits; but Dr. Pantuccio came in his stead, and we have every reason to be satisfied with his skill and kindness. He bled papa very largely on Monday, twice on Tuesday, and intends repeating it again to-day, if the strength of the patient allow of it. The debility resulting from all this is, naturally, very great; but papa is able to dictate to me a few particulars in reply to your last. First, as to Crowther's bill of costs: he says, ”that he certainly cannot pay it at present,” nor does he think he ever will. I do not know how much of this you are to tell Mr. C., but you will be guided by your own discretion in that, as on any other point wherein I may be doubtful.
Harris also must wait for his money--and be thankful when he gets it.
You will make no abatement to Healey, but try and get the farm out of his hands, by any means, before he sublets it and runs away to America.
Tom Dunne's house, at the cross-roads, had better be repaired; and if a proper representation was made to the Castle about the disturbed state of the country, papa thinks it might be made a police-station, and probably bring twenty pounds a year. He does not like to let Dodsborough for a ”Union;” he says it's time enough when we go back there to make it a poorhouse. As to Paul Davis, he says, ”let him foreclose, if he likes; for there are three other claims before his, and he 'll only burn his fingers,”--whatever that means.
Papa will give nothing to the schoolhouse till he goes back and examines the children himself; but you are to continue his subscription to the dispensary, for he thinks overpopulation is the real ruin of Ireland. I don't exactly understand what he says about allowance for improvements, and he is not in a state to torment him with questions; but it appears to me that you are not to allow anything to anybody till some Bill pa.s.ses, or does not pa.s.s, and after that it is to be arranged differently. I am afraid poor papa's head was wandering here, for he mumbled something about somebody being on a ”raft at sea,” and hoped he wouldn't go adrift, and I don't know what besides.
Your post-bill arrived quite safe; but the sum is totally insufficient, and below what he expected. I am sure, if you knew how much irritation it cost him, you would take measures to make a more suitable remittance.
I think, on the whole, till papa is perfectly recovered, it would be better to avoid any irritating or unpleasant topics; and if you would talk encouragingly of home prospects, and send him money frequently, it would greatly contribute to his restoration.
I may add, on mamma's part and my own, the a.s.surance of our being ready to submit to any privation, or even misery if necessary, to bring papa's affairs into a healthier condition. Mamma will consent to anything but living in Ireland, which, indeed, I think is more than could be expected from her. As it is, we keep no carriage here, nor have any equipage whatever; our table is simply two courses, and some fruit. We are wearing out all our old-fas.h.i.+oned clothes, and see n.o.body. If you can suggest any additional mode of economizing, mamma begs you will favor us with a line; meanwhile, she desires me to say that any allusion to ”returning to Dodsborough,” or any plan ”for living abroad as we lived at home” will only embitter the intercourse, which, to be satisfactory, should be free from any irritation between us.
Of course, for the present you will write to mamma, as papa is far from being fit for any communication on matters of business, nor does the doctor antic.i.p.ate his being able for such for some weeks to come.
We have not heard from James since he left this, but are anxiously expecting a letter by every post, and even to see his name in the ”Gazette.” Cary does not forget that she was always your favorite, and desires me to send her very kindest remembrances, with which I beg you to accept those of very truly yours,
Mart Anne Dodd.
P. S. As it is quite uncertain when papa will be equal to any exertion, mamma thinks it would be advisable to make your remittances, for some time, payable to her name.
The doctor of the dispensary has written to papa, asking his support at some approaching contest for some situation,--I believe under the Poor-law. Will you kindly explain the reasons for which his letter has remained unreplied to? and if papa should not be able to answer, perhaps you could take upon yourself to give him the a.s.sistance he desires, as I know pa always esteemed him a very competent person, and kind to the poor. Of course the suggestion is only thrown out for your own consideration, and in strict confidence besides, for I make it a point never to interfere with any of the small details of pa's property.
LETTER X. MRS. DODD TO MRS. MARY GALLAGHER, DODSBOROUGH
My dear Molly,--I received your letter in due course, and if it was n't for crying, I could have laughed heartily over it! I don't know, I'm sure, where you got your elegant description of the Lake of Comus; but I am obliged to tell you it's very unlike the real article; at all events, there 's one thing I 'm sure of,--it's a very different matter living here like Queen Caroline, and being shut up in the same house with K.
I.; and therefore no more balderdash about my ”queenly existence,” and so on, that your last was full of.
Here we are, in what they call the Villa of the Fountains, as if there was n't water enough before the door but they must have it spouting up out of a creature's nose in one corner, another blowing it out of a sh.e.l.l, and three naked figures--females, Molly--dancing in a pond of it in the garden, that kept me out of the place till I had them covered with an old mackintosh of K. I.'s. We have forty-seven rooms, and there's barely furniture, if it was all put together, for four; and there 's a theatre, and a billiard-room, and a chapel; but there 's not a chair would n't give you the lumbago, and the stocks at Bruff is pleasant compared to the grand sofa. The lake comes round three sides of the house, and a mountain shuts in the other one, for there 's no road whatever to it. You think I 'm not in earnest, but it's as true as I 'm here; the only approach is by water, so that everything has to come in boats. Of course, as long as the weather keeps fine, we 'll manage to send into the town; but when there comes--what we 're sure to have in this season--aquenoctial gales, I don't know what 's to become of us.
The natives of the place don't care, for they can live on figs and olives, and those great big green pumpkins they call watermelons; but, after K. I.'s experience, I don't think we'll try _them_. It was at a little place on the way here, called Colico, that he insisted on having a slice of one of these steeped in rum for his supper, because he saw a creature eating it outside the door. Well, my dear, he relished it so much that he ate two, and--you know the man--would n't stop till he finished a whole melon as big as one of the big stones over the gate piers at home.
”Jemi,” says he, when he'd done, ”is this the place the hand-book says you should n't eat any fruit in, or taste the wines of the country?”
”I don't see that,” said I; ”but Murray says it's notorious for March miasma, which is most fatal in the fall of the year.”
”What's the name of it?” said he.
I could n't say the word before he gave a screech out of him that made the house ring.
”I 'm a dead man,” says he; ”that's the very place I was warned about.”
From that minute the pains begun, and he spent the whole night in torture. Lord George, the kindest creature that ever breathed, got out of his bed and set off to Milan for a doctor, but it was late in the afternoon when he got back. Half an hour later, Molly, and it would have been past saving him. As it was, he bled him as if he was veal: for that's the new system, my dear, and it's the blood that does us all the harm, and works all the wickedness we suffer from. If it's true, K. I.
will get up an altered man, for I don't think a horse could bear what he 's gone through. Even now he 's as gentle as an infant, Molly, and you would n't know his voice if you heard it. We only go in one at a time to him, except Cary, that never leaves him, and, indeed, he would n't let her quit the room. Sometimes I fancy that he 'll never be the same again, and from a remark or two of the doctor's, I suspect it's his head they 're afraid of. If it was n't English he raved in, I 'd be dreadfully ashamed of the things he says, and the way he talks of the family.
As it is, he makes cruel mistakes; for he took Lord George the other night for James, and began talking to him, and warning him against his Lords.h.i.+p. ”Don't trust him too far, Jemmy,” said he. ”If he was n't in disgrace with his equals, he 'd never condescend to keep company with us. Depend on 't, boy, he 's not 'all right,' and I wish we were well rid of him.”
Lord George tried to make him believe that he did n't understand him, And said something about the Parliament being prorogued, but K. I. went on: ”I suppose, then, our n.o.ble friend did n't get his Bill through the Lords?”