Cornelius O'Dowd Upon Men And Women And Other Things In General Part 11

Think, then, of the varied lessons--moral as well as mental--that the game instils; the caution, the reserve, the patient attention, the memory, the deep calculation of probabilities, embracing all the rules of evidence, the calm self-reliance, and the vigorous daring that shows when what seems even rashness may be the safest of all expedients.

Imagine the daily practice of these gifts and faculties, and tell me, if you can, that he who exercises them can cease to employ them in his everyday life. You might as well a.s.sert that the practice of gymnastics neither develops the muscle nor increases strength.

I cannot believe a great public man to have attained a fall development of his power if he has not been a whist-player; and for a leader of the House, it is an absolute necessity. Take a glance for a moment at what goes on in Parliament in this non-whist age, and mark the consequences.

Look in at an ordinary sitting of the House, and see how damaging to his party that unhappy man is, who _will_ ask a question to-day which this day week would be unanswerable. What is that but "playing his card out of time"? See that other who rises to know if something be true; the unlucky "something" being the key-note to his party's politics which he has thus disclosed. What is this but "showing his hand"? Hear that dreary blunderer, who has unwittingly contradicted what his chief has just a.s.serted--"trumping," as it were, "his partner's trick." Or that still more fatal wretch, who, rising at a wrong moment, has taken "the lead out of the hand" that could have won the game. I boldly ask, would there be one--even one--of these solecisms committed in an age when Whist was cultivated, and men were brought up in the knowledge and practice of the odd trick?

Look at the cleverness with which Lord Palmerston "forces the hand" of the Opposition. Watch the rapidity with which Lord Derby pounces upon the card Lord Russell has let drop, and "calls on him to play it." And in the face of all this you will see scores of these bland whiskered creatures Leech gives us in 'Punch,' who, if asked, "Can they play?"

answer with a contemptuous ha-ha laugh, "I rather think not."

To the real player, besides, Whist was never so engrossing as to exclude occasional remark; and some of the smartest and wittiest of Talleyrand's sayings were uttered at the card-table. Imagine, then, the inestimable advantage to the young man entering life, to be privileged to sit down in that little chosen coterie, where sages dropped words of wisdom, and brilliant men let fall those gems of wit that actually light up an era.

By what other agency--through what fortuitous combination of events other than the game--could he hope to enjoy such companions.h.i.+p? How could he be thrown not merely into their society, but their actual intimacy?

It would be easy for me to ill.u.s.trate the inestimable benefits of this situation, if we possessed what, to the scandal of our age, we do not possess--any statistics of Whist. Newspapers record the oldest inhabitant or the biggest gooseberry, but tell us nothing biographical of those who have ill.u.s.trated the resources and extended the boundaries of this glorious game. We even look in vain for any mention of Whist in the lives of some of its first proficients. Take Cavour, for instance.

Not one of his biographers has recorded his pa.s.sion for Whist, and yet he was a good player: too venturous, perhaps--too das.h.i.+ng--but splendid with "a strong hand!" During all the sittings of the Paris Congress he played every night at the Jockey Club, and won very largely--some say above twenty thousand pounds.

The late Prince Metternich played well, but not brilliantly. It was a patient, cautious, back-game, and never fully developed till the last card was played. He grew easily tired too, and very seldom could sit out more than twelve or fourteen rubbers; unlike Talleyrand, who always arose from table, after perhaps twelve hours' play, fresher and brighter than when he began. Lord Melbourne played well, but had moments of distraction, when he suffered the smaller interests of politics to interfere with his combinations. I single him out, however, as a graceful compliment to a party who have numbered few good players in their ranks; for certainly the Tories could quote folly ten to one whisters against the Whigs. The Whigs are too superficial, too crotchety, and too self-opinionated to be whist-players; and, worse than all, too distrustful. A Whig could never trust his partner--he could not for a moment disabuse himself of the notion that his colleague meant to outwit him. A Whig, too, would invariably try to win by something not perfectly legitimate; and, last of all, he would be incessantly appealing to the bystanders, and asking if he had not, even if egregiously beaten, played better than his opponents.

The late Cabinet of Lord Derby contained some good players. Two of the Secretaries of State were actually fine players, and one of them adds Whist to accomplishments which would have made their possessor an Admirable Crichton, if genius had not elevated him into a far loftier category than Crichtons belong to. Rechberg plays well, and likes his game; but he is in Whist, as are all Germans, a thorough pedant. I remember an incident of his whist-life sufficiently amusing in its way, though, in relation, the reader loses what to myself is certainly the whole pungency of the story: I mean the character and nature of the person who imparted the anecdote to me, and who is about the most perfect specimen of that self-possession, which we call coolness, the age we live in can boast of.

I own that, in a very varied and somewhat extensive experience of men in many countries, I never met with one who so completely fulfilled all the requisites of temper, manner, face, courage, and self-reliance, which make of a human being the most unabashable and unemotional creature that walks the earth.

I tell the story as nearly as I can as he related it to me. "I used to play a good deal with Rechberg," said he, "and took pleasure in worrying him, for he was a great purist in his play, and was outraged with anything that could not be sustained by an authority. In fact, each game was followed by a discussion of full half an hour, to the intense mortification of the other players, though very amusing to me, and offering me large opportunity to irritate and plague the Austrian.

"One evening, after a number of these discussions, in which Rechberg had displayed an even unusual warmth and irritability, I found myself opposed to him in a game, the interest of which had drawn around us a large a.s.sembly of spectators--what the French designate as _la galerie_.

Towards the conclusion of the game it was my turn to lead, and I played a card which so astounded the Austrian Minister, that he laid down his cards upon the table and stared fixedly at me.

"'In all my experience of Whist,' said he, deliberately, 'I never saw the equal of that.'

"'Of what?' asked!

"'Of the card you have just played,' rejoined he. 'It is not merely that such play violates every principle of the game, but it actually stultifies all your own combinations.'

"'I think differently, Count,' said I. 'I maintain that it is good play, and I abide by it.'

"'Let us decide it by a wager,' said he.

"'In what way?'

"'Thus: We shall leave the question to the _galerie_. You shall allege what you deem to be the reasons for your play, and they shall decide if they accept them as valid.'

"'I agree. What will you bet?'

"'Ten napoleons--twenty, fifty, five hundred if you like!' cried he, warmly.

"'I shall say ten. You don't like losing, and I don't want to punish you too heavily.'

"'There is the jury, sir,' said he, haughtily; 'make your case.'

"'The wager is this,' said I, 'that, to win, I shall satisfy these gentlemen that for the card I played I had a sufficient and good reason.'

"'Yes.'

"'My reason was this, then--I looked into your hand!'

"I pocketed his ten napoleons, but they were the last I won of him.

Indeed, it took a month before he got over the shock."

It would be interesting if we had, which unhappily we have not, any statistical returns to show what cla.s.ses and professions have produced the best whist-players. In my own experience I have found civilians the superiors of the military.

Diplomatists I should rank first; their game was not alone finer and more subtle, but they showed a recuperative power in their play which others rarely possessed: they extricated themselves well out of difficulties, and always made their losses as small as possible. Where they broke down was when they were linked with a bad partner: they invariably played on a level which he could never attain to, and in this way cross purposes and misunderstandings were certain to ensue.

Lawyers, as a cla.s.s, play well; but their great fault is, they play too much for the _galerie_. The habit of appealing to the jury jags and blurs the finer edge of their faculties, and they are more p.r.o.ne to canva.s.s the suffrages of the surrounders than to address themselves to the actual issue. For this reason, Equity pract.i.tioners are superior to the men in the courts below.

Physicians are seldom first-rate players--they are always behind their age in Whist, and rarely, if ever, know any of the fine points which Frenchmen have introduced into the game. Their play, too, is timid--they regard trumps as powerful stimulants, and only administer them in drop-doses. They seldom look at the game as a great whole, but play on, card after card, deeming each trick they turn as a patient disposed of, and not in any way connected with what has preceded or is to follow it.

Divines are in Whist pretty much where geology was in the time of the first Georges; still I have met with a bishop and a stray archdeacon or two who could hold their own. I am speaking here of the Establishment, because in Catholic countries the higher clergy are very often good players. Antonelli, for instance, might sit down at the Portland or the Turf; and even my old friend G. P. would find that his Eminence was his match.

Soldiers are sorry performers, for mess-play is invariably bad; but sailors are infinitely worse. They have but one notion, which is to play out all the best cards as fast as they can, and then appeal to their partner to score as many tricks as they have--an inhuman performance, which I have no doubt has cost many apoplexies.

On the whole, Frenchmen are better players than we are. Their game is less easily divined, and all their intimations (_invites_) more subtle and more refined. The Emperor plays well. In England he played a great deal at the late Lord Eglinton's, though he was never the equal of that accomplished Earl, whose mastery of all games, especially those of address, was perfection.

The Irish have a few brilliant players--one of them is on the bench; but the Scotch are the most winning of all British whisters. The Americans are rarely first-rate, but they have a large number of good second-cla.s.s players. Even with them, however, Whist is on the decline; and Euchre and Poker, and a score more of other similar abominations, have usurped the place of the king of games. What is to be done to arrest the progress of this indifferentism?--how are we to awaken men out of the stupor of this apathy? Have they never heard of the terrible warning of Talleyrand to his friend who could not play, as he said, "Have you reflected on the miserable old age that awaits you?" How much of human nature that would otherwise be unprofitable can be made available by Whist! What scores of tiresome old twaddlers are there who can still serve their country as whisters! what feeble intelligences that can flicker out into a pa.s.sing brightness at the sight of the "turned trump"!

Think of this, and think what is to become of us when the old, the feeble, the tiresome, and the interminable will all be thrown broadcast over society without an object or an occupation. Imagine what Bores will be let loose upon the world, and fancy how feeble will be all efforts of wit or pleasantry to season a ma.s.s of such incapables! Think, I say, think of this. It is a peril that has been long threatening--even from that time when old Lord Hertford, baffled and discouraged by the invariable reply, "I regret, my Lord, that I cannot play Whist,"

exclaimed, "I really believe that the day is not distant when no gentleman can have a vice that requires more than two people!"

ONE OF OUR "TWO PUZZLES".

The two puzzles of our era are, how to employ our women, and what to do with our convicts; and how little soever gallant it may seem to place them in collocation, there is a bond that unites the attempt to keep the good in virtue with the desire to reform the bad from vice, which will save me from any imputation of deficient delicacy.

Let us begin with the Women. An enormous amount of ingenuity has been expended in devising occupations where female labour might be advantageously employed, and where the more patient industry and more delicate handiwork of women might replace the coa.r.s.er mechanism of men.

Printing, bookbinding, cigar-making, and the working of the telegraph, have been freely opened--and, I believe, very successfully--to female skill; and scores of other callings have been also placed at their disposal: but, strange enough, the more that we do, the more there remains to be done; and never have the professed advocates of woman's rights been so loud in their demands as since we have shared with them many of what we used to regard as the especial fields of man's industry.

Women have taken to the practice of Medicine, and have threatened to invade the Bar--steps doubtless antic.i.p.atory of the time when they shall "rise in the House" or sit on the Treasury benches. Now, I have very little doubt that we used not to be as liberal as we might in sharing our callings with women. We had got into the habit of underrating their capacities, and disparaging their fitness for labour, which was very illiberal; but let us take care that the reaction does not cany us too far on the other side, and that in our zeal to make a reparation we only make a blunder, and that we encourage them to adopt careers and crafts totally unsuited to their tastes and their powers.

It is quite clear--in fact, a mere glance at the detail of the preliminary studies will suffice to show it--that medicine and surgery should not be shared with them. For a variety of reasons, they ought not to be encouraged to take holy orders; and, on the whole, it is very doubtful if it would be a wise step to introduce them into the army, much less into the navy. Seeing this, therefore, the question naturally arises, Are women to be the mere drudges--the Helots of our civilisation? Are we only to employ them in such humble callings as exclude all ideas of future distinction? A very serious question this, and one over which I pondered for more than half an hour last night, as I lay under the influence of some very strong tea and a slight menace of gout.

Women are very haughty creatures--very resentful of any supposed slight--very aggressive, besides, if they imagine the time for attack favourable. Will they sit down patiently as makers of pill-boxes and artificial flowers? Will they be satisfied with their small gains and smaller consideration? Will there not be ambitious spirits amongst them who will ask, What do you mean to offer us? We are of a cla.s.s who neither care to bind books nor draw patterns. We are your equals--if we were not distinctively modest, we might say something more than your equals--in acquirement and information. We have our smattering of physical-science humbug, as you have; we are read up in theological disputation, and are as ready as you to stand by Colenso against Moses; in modern languages we are more than your match. What have you to offer us if we are too proud, or too poor, or too anything else, to stand waiting for a buyer in the marriage-market of Belgravia? You will not suffer us to enter the learned professions nor the Service; you will not encourage us to be architects, attorneys, land-agents, or engineers. We know and we feel that there is not one of these callings either above our capacity or unsuited to our habits, but you deny us admittance; and now we ask, What is your scheme for our employment? what project have you that may point out to us a future of independence and a station of respect? Have you such a plan? or, failing it, have you the courage to proclaim to the world that all your boasted civilisation can offer us is to become the governesses to the children of our luckier sisters? But there are many of us totally unsuited to this, brought up with ways and habits that would make such an existence something very like penal servitude--what will you do with us?

With this cry--for it became a cry--in my ears, I tried to go asleep.

I counted seventeen hundred and forty-four; I thought of the sea; I imagined I was listening to Dr c.u.mming; and I endeavoured to repeat a distich of Martin Tupper: but the force of conscience and the congo carried the day, and I addressed myself vigorously to the question.

I thought of making them missionaries, lighthouse-keepers, lunacy commissioners, Garter Kings-at-Arms, and suchlike, when a brilliant thought flashed across my brain, and, with the instinct of a great success, I saw I had triumphed. "Yes," cried I aloud, "there is one grand career for women--a career which shall engage not alone all the higher and more delicate traits of their organisation, which will call forth their marvellous clear-sightedness and quick perception, their tact, their persuasiveness, and their ingenuity, but will actually employ the less commendable features of female nature, and find work for their powers of concealment, their craft in deception, and their pa.s.sion for intrigue. How is it that we have never hit upon it before? for of all the careers meant by nature for women, was there any one could compare with Diplomacy!"

Here we have at once the long-sought-for career--the _desideratum tanti studii_--the occupation for which men are too coa.r.s.e, too clumsy, too inept, and which requires the lighter touch and more delicate treatment of female fingers. It is the everyday reproach heard of us abroad, that our representatives are deficient in those smaller and nicer traits by which irritations are avoided and unpleasant situations relieved. John, they say, always imagines that to be national he must be "Bull," and toss on his horns "all and every" that opposes him. Now, late events might have disabused foreign cabinets on this score: a quieter beast than he has shown himself need not be wished for. Still, he has bellowed, and lashed his tail, and cut a few absurd capers, to show what he would be at if provoked; but the world has grown too wise to be terrified by such exhibitions, and quietly settled down to the opinion that there is nothing to fear from him. Now, how very differently might all this have been if the d.u.c.h.ess of S. were Amba.s.sador at Paris, and the Countess of C. at St Petersburg, and Lady N. at Vienna! There would have been no bl.u.s.ter, no rudeness, no bullying--none of that blundering about declining a Congress to-day because a Congress "ought to follow a war," and proposing one to-morrow, "to prevent a war." Women despise logic, and consequently would not stultify it. A temperance apostle is not likely to adulterate the liquor that he does not drink; and for this reason, female intelligence would have escaped this "muddle." Her Ladys.h.i.+p would have thrown her blandishments over Rechberg--he is now of the age when men are easy victims--all the little cajoleries and flatteries of women's art would have been exerted first to find out, and then to thwart, his policy. It is notorious that English diplomacy knows next to nothing through secret agency. Would such be the case if we had women as envoys? What mystery would stand the a.s.sault of a fine lady, trained and practised by the habits of her daily life?

They tell us that our fox-hunters would form the finest scout-cavalry in Europe; and I am convinced that a London leader of fas.h.i.+on--I have a dozen in my eye at this moment--would track an intrigue through all its stages, and learn its intimate details of place and time and agency, weeks before a merely male intelligence began to suspect the thing was possible.