diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/lvgro10h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/lvgro10h.htm | 24250 |
1 files changed, 24250 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/lvgro10h.htm b/old/lvgro10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab88d77 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/lvgro10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,24250 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII"> +<title>Lavengro</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Lavengro, by George Borrow</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lavengro, by George Borrow +(#3 in our series by George Borrow) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Lavengro + +Author: George Borrow + +Release Date: March, 1996 [EBook #452] +[This file was first posted on January 11, 1996] +[Most recently updated: August 18, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII +</pre> +<p> +<a name="startoftext"></a> +Transcribed from the 1900 Macmillian and Co. Edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +LAVENGRO<br> +THE SCHOLAR, THE GYPSY, THE PRIEST<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +PREFACE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +In the following pages I have endeavoured to describe a dream, partly +of study, partly of adventure, in which will be found copious notices +of books, and many descriptions of life and manners, some in a very +unusual form.<br> +<br> +The scenes of action lie in the British Islands; - pray be not displeased, +gentle reader, if perchance thou hast imagined that I was about to conduct +thee to distant lands, and didst promise thyself much instruction and +entertainment from what I might tell thee of them. I do assure +thee that thou hast no reason to be displeased, inasmuch as there are +no countries in the world less known by the British than these selfsame +British Islands, or where more strange things are every day occurring, +whether in road or street, house or dingle.<br> +<br> +The time embraces nearly the first quarter of the present century: this +information again may, perhaps, be anything but agreeable to thee; it +is a long time to revert to, but fret not thyself, many matters which +at present much occupy the public mind originated in some degree towards +the latter end of that period, and some of them will be treated of.<br> +<br> +The principal actors in this dream, or drama, are, as you will have +gathered from the title-page, a Scholar, a Gypsy, and a Priest. +Should you imagine that these three form one, permit me to assure you +that you are very much mistaken. Should there be something of +the Gypsy manifest in the Scholar, there is certainly nothing of the +Priest. With respect to the Gypsy - decidedly the most entertaining +character of the three - there is certainly nothing of the Scholar or +the Priest in him; and as for the Priest, though there may be something +in him both of scholarship and gypsyism, neither the Scholar nor the +Gypsy would feel at all flattered by being confounded with him.<br> +<br> +Many characters which may be called subordinate will be found, and it +is probable that some of these characters will afford much more interest +to the reader than those styled the principal. The favourites +with the writer are a brave old soldier and his helpmate, an ancient +gentlewoman who sold apples, and a strange kind of wandering man and +his wife.<br> +<br> +Amongst the many things attempted in this book is the encouragement +of charity, and free and genial manners, and the exposure of humbug, +of which there are various kinds, but of which the most perfidious, +the most debasing, and the most cruel, is the humbug of the Priest.<br> +<br> +Yet let no one think that irreligion is advocated in this book. +With respect to religious tenets I wish to observe that I am a member +of the Church of England, into whose communion I was baptized, and to +which my forefathers belonged. Its being the religion in which +I was baptized, and of my forefathers, would be a strong inducement +to me to cling to it; for I do not happen to be one of those choice +spirits ‘who turn from their banner when the battle bears strongly +against it, and go over to the enemy,’ and who receive at first +a hug and a ‘viva,’ and in the sequel contempt and spittle +in the face; but my chief reason for belonging to it is, because, of +all churches calling themselves Christian ones, I believe there is none +so good, so well founded upon Scripture, or whose ministers are, upon +the whole, so exemplary in their lives and conversation, so well read +in the book from which they preach, or so versed in general learning, +so useful in their immediate neighbourhoods, or so unwilling to persecute +people of other denominations for matters of doctrine.<br> +<br> +In the communion of this Church, and with the religious consolation +of its ministers, I wish and hope to live and die, and in its and their +defence will at all times be ready, if required, to speak, though humbly, +and to fight, though feebly, against enemies, whether carnal or spiritual.<br> +<br> +And is there no priestcraft in the Church of England? There is +certainly, or rather there was, a modicum of priestcraft in the Church +of England, but I have generally found that those who are most vehement +against the Church of England are chiefly dissatisfied with her because +there is only a modicum of that article in her - were she stuffed to +the very cupola with it, like a certain other Church, they would have +much less to say against the Church of England.<br> +<br> +By the other Church, I mean Rome. Its system was once prevalent +in England, and, during the period that it prevailed there, was more +prolific of debasement and crime than all other causes united. +The people and the government at last becoming enlightened by means +of the Scripture spurned it from the island with disgust and horror, +the land instantly after its disappearance becoming a fair field, in +which arts, sciences, and all the amiable virtues flourished, instead +of being a pestilent marsh where swine-like ignorance wallowed, and +artful hypocrites, like so many Wills-o’-the-wisp, played antic +gambols about, around, and above debased humanity.<br> +<br> +But Popery still wished to play her old part, to regain her lost dominion, +to reconvert the smiling land into the pestilential morass, where she +could play again her old antics. From the period of the Reformation +in England up to the present time, she has kept her emissaries here, +individuals contemptible in intellect, it is true, but cat-like and +gliding, who, at her bidding, have endeavoured, as much as in their +power has lain, to damp and stifle every genial, honest, loyal, and +independent thought, and to reduce minds to such a state of dotage as +would enable their old Popish mother to do what she pleased with them.<br> +<br> +And in every country, however enlightened, there are always minds inclined +to grovelling superstition - minds fond of eating dust and swallowing +clay - minds never at rest, save when prostrate before some fellow in +a surplice; and these Popish emissaries found always some weak enough +to bow down before them, astounded by their dreadful denunciations of +eternal woe and damnation to any who should refuse to believe their +Romania; but they played a poor game - the law protected the servants +of Scripture, and the priest with his beads seldom ventured to approach +any but the remnant of those of the eikonolatry - representatives of +worm-eaten houses, their debased dependants, and a few poor crazy creatures +amongst the middle classes - he played a poor game, and the labour was +about to prove almost entirely in vain, when the English legislature, +in compassion or contempt, or, yet more probably, influenced by that +spirit of toleration and kindness which is so mixed up with Protestantism, +removed almost entirely the disabilities under which Popery laboured, +and enabled it to raise its head and to speak out almost without fear.<br> +<br> +And it did raise its head, and, though it spoke with some little fear +at first, soon discarded every relic of it; went about the land uttering +its damnation cry, gathering around it - and for doing so many thanks +to it - the favourers of priestcraft who lurked within the walls of +the Church of England; frightening with the loudness of its voice the +weak, the timid, and the ailing; perpetrating, whenever it had an opportunity, +that species of crime to which it has ever been most partial - <i>Deathbed +robbery</i>; for as it is cruel, so is it dastardly. Yes, it went +on enlisting, plundering, and uttering its terrible threats till - till +it became, as it always does when left to itself, a fool, a very fool. +Its plunderings might have been overlooked, and so might its insolence, +had it been common insolence, but it - , and then the roar of indignation +which arose from outraged England against the viper, the frozen viper, +which it had permitted to warm itself upon its bosom.<br> +<br> +But thanks, Popery, you have done all that the friends of enlightenment +and religious liberty could wish; but if ever there were a set of foolish +ones to be found under heaven, surely it is the priestly rabble who +came over from Rome to direct the grand movement - so long in its getting +up.<br> +<br> +But now again the damnation cry is withdrawn, there is a subdued meekness +in your demeanour, you are now once more harmless as a lamb. Well, +we shall see how the trick - ‘the old trick’ - will serve +you.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER I<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Birth - My father - Tamerlane - Ben Brain - French Protestants - East +Anglia - Sorrow and troubles - True peace - A beautiful child - Foreign +grave - Mirrors - Alpine country - Emblems - Slow of speech - The Jew +- Strange gestures.<br> +<br> +On an evening of July, in the year 18-, at East D-, a beautiful little +town in a certain district of East Anglia, I first saw the light.<br> +<br> +My father was a Cornish man, the youngest, as I have heard him say, +of seven brothers. He sprang from a family of gentlemen, or, as +some people would call them, gentillâtres, for they were not very +wealthy; they had a coat of arms, however, and lived on their own property +at a place called Tredinnock, which being interpreted means <i>the house +on the</i> <i>hill</i>, which house and the neighbouring acres had been +from time immemorial in their possession. I mention these particulars +that the reader may see at once that I am not altogether of low and +plebeian origin; the present age is highly aristocratic, and I am convinced +that the public will read my pages with more zest from being told that +I am a gentillâtre by birth with Cornish blood in my veins, of +a family who lived on their own property at a place bearing a Celtic +name, signifying the house on the hill, or more strictly the house on +the <i>hillock.<br> +<br> +</i>My father was what is generally termed a posthumous child - in other +words, the gentillâtre who begot him never had the satisfaction +of invoking the blessing of the Father of All upon his head; having +departed this life some months before the birth of his youngest son. +The boy, therefore, never knew a father’s care; he was, however, +well tended by his mother, whose favourite he was; so much so, indeed, +that his brethren, the youngest of whom was considerably older than +himself, were rather jealous of him. I never heard, however, that +they treated him with any marked unkindness, and it will be as well +to observe here that I am by no means well acquainted with his early +history, of which, indeed, as I am not writing his life, it is not necessary +to say much. Shortly after his mother’s death, which occurred +when he was eighteen, he adopted the profession of arms, which he followed +during the remainder of his life, and in which, had circumstances permitted, +he would probably have shone amongst the best. By nature he was +cool and collected, slow to anger, though perfectly fearless, patient +of control, of great strength; and, to crown all, a proper man with +his hands.<br> +<br> +With far inferior qualifications many a man has become a field-marshal +or general; similar ones made Tamerlane, who was not a gentillâtre, +but the son of a blacksmith, emperor of one-third of the world; but +the race is not always for the swift, nor the battle for the strong, +indeed I ought rather to say very seldom; certain it is, that my father, +with all his high military qualifications, never became emperor, field-marshal, +or even general: indeed, he had never an opportunity of distinguishing +himself save in one battle, and that took place neither in Flanders, +Egypt, nor on the banks of the Indus or Oxus, but in Hyde Park.<br> +<br> +Smile not, gentle reader, many a battle has been fought in Hyde Park, +in which as much skill, science, and bravery have been displayed as +ever achieved a victory in Flanders or by the Indus. In such a +combat as that to which I allude, I opine that even Wellington or Napoleon +would have been heartily glad to cry for quarter ere the lapse of five +minutes, and even the Blacksmith Tartar would, perhaps, have shrunk +from the opponent with whom, after having had a dispute with him, my +father engaged in single combat for one hour, at the end of which time +the champions shook hands and retired, each having experienced quite +enough of the other’s prowess. The name of my father’s +antagonist was Brain.<br> +<br> +What! still a smile? did you never hear that name before? I cannot +help it! Honour to Brain, who four months after the event which +I have now narrated was champion of England, having conquered the heroic +Johnson. Honour to Brain, who, at the end of other four months, +worn out by the dreadful blows which he had received in his manly combats, +expired in the arms of my father, who read the Bible to him in his latter +moments - Big Ben Brain.<br> +<br> +You no longer smile, even <i>you</i> have heard of Big Ben.<br> +<br> +I have already hinted that my father never rose to any very exalted +rank in his profession, notwithstanding his prowess and other qualifications. +After serving for many years in the line, he at last entered as captain +in the militia regiment of the Earl of -, at that period just raised, +and to which he was sent by the Duke of York to instruct the young levies +in military manoeuvres and discipline; and in this mission I believe +he perfectly succeeded, competent judges having assured me that the +regiment in question soon came by his means to be considered as one +of the most brilliant in the service, and inferior to no regiment of +the line in appearance or discipline.<br> +<br> +As the headquarters of this corps were at D- the duties of my father +not unfrequently carried him to that place, and it was on one of these +occasions that he became acquainted with a young person of the neighbourhood, +for whom he formed an attachment, which was returned; and this young +person was my mother.<br> +<br> +She was descended from a family of French Protestants, natives of Caen, +who were obliged to leave their native country when old Louis, at the +instigation of the Pope, thought fit to revoke the Edict of Nantes: +their name was Petrement, and I have reason for believing that they +were people of some consideration; that they were noble hearts, and +good Christians, they gave sufficient proof in scorning to bow the knee +to the tyranny of Rome. So they left beautiful Normandy for their +faith’s sake, and with a few louis d’ors in their purse, +a Bible in the vulgar tongue, and a couple of old swords, which, if +report be true, had done service in the Huguenot wars, they crossed +the sea to the isle of civil peace and religious liberty, and established +themselves in East Anglia.<br> +<br> +And many other Huguenot families bent their steps thither, and devoted +themselves to agriculture or the mechanical arts; and in the venerable +old city, the capital of the province, in the northern shadow of the +Castle of De Burgh, the exiles built for themselves a church where they +praised God in the French tongue, and to which, at particular seasons +of the year, they were in the habit of flocking from country and from +town to sing -<br> +<br> +‘Thou hast provided for us a goodly earth; thou waterest her furrows, +thou sendest rain into the little valleys thereof, thou makest it soft +with the drops of rain, and blessest the increase of it.’<br> +<br> +I have been told that in her younger days my mother was strikingly handsome; +this I can easily believe: I never knew her in her youth, for though +she was very young when she married my father (who was her senior by +many years), she had attained the middle age before I was born, no children +having been vouchsafed to my parents in the early stages of their union. +Yet even at the present day, now that years threescore and ten have +passed over her head, attended with sorrow and troubles manifold, poorly +chequered with scanty joys, can I look on that countenance and doubt +that at one time beauty decked it as with a glorious garment? +Hail to thee, my parent! as thou sittest there, in thy widow’s +weeds, in the dusky parlour in the house overgrown with the lustrous +ivy of the sister isle, the solitary house at the end of the retired +court shaded by lofty poplars. Hail to thee, dame of the oval +face, olive complexion, and Grecian forehead; by thy table seated with +the mighty volume of the good Bishop Hopkins spread out before thee; +there is peace in thy countenance, my mother; it is not worldly peace, +however, not the deceitful peace which lulls to bewitching slumbers, +and from which, let us pray, humbly pray, that every sinner may be roused +in time to implore mercy not in vain! Thine is the peace of the +righteous, my mother, of those to whom no sin can be imputed, the score +of whose misdeeds has been long since washed away by the blood of atonement, +which imputeth righteousness to those who trust in it. It was +not always thus, my mother; a time was, when the cares, pomps, and vanities +of this world agitated thee too much; but that time is gone by, another +and a better has succeeded; there is peace now on thy countenance, the +true peace; peace around thee, too, in thy solitary dwelling, sounds +of peace, the cheerful hum of the kettle and the purring of the immense +angola, which stares up at thee from its settle with its almost human +eyes.<br> +<br> +No more earthly cares and affections now, my mother! Yes, one. +Why dost thou suddenly raise thy dark and still brilliant eye from the +volume with a somewhat startled glance? What noise is that in +the distant street? Merely the noise of a hoof; a sound common +enough: it draws nearer, nearer, and now it stops before thy gate. +Singular! And now there is a pause, a long pause. Ha! thou +hearest something - a footstep; a swift but heavy footstep! thou risest, +thou tremblest, there is a hand on the pin of the outer door, there +is some one in the vestibule, and now the door of thy apartment opens, +there is a reflection on the mirror behind thee, a travelling hat, a +gray head and sunburnt face. My dearest Son! - My darling Mother!<br> +<br> +Yes, mother, thou didst recognise in the distant street the hoof-tramp +of the wanderer’s horse.<br> +<br> +I was not the only child of my parents; I had a brother some three years +older than myself. He was a beautiful child; one of those occasionally +seen in England, and in England alone; a rosy, angelic face, blue eyes, +and light chestnut hair; it was not exactly an Anglo-Saxon countenance, +in which, by the bye, there is generally a cast of loutishness and stupidity; +it partook, to a certain extent, of the Celtic character, particularly +in the fire and vivacity which illumined it; his face was the mirror +of his mind; perhaps no disposition more amiable was ever found amongst +the children of Adam, united, however, with no inconsiderable portion +of high and dauntless spirit. So great was his beauty in infancy, +that people, especially those of the poorer classes, would follow the +nurse who carried him about in order to look at and bless his lovely +face. At the age of three months an attempt was made to snatch +him from his mother’s arms in the streets of London, at the moment +she was about to enter a coach; indeed, his appearance seemed to operate +so powerfully upon every person who beheld him, that my parents were +under continual apprehension of losing him; his beauty, however, was +perhaps surpassed by the quickness of his parts. He mastered his +letters in a few hours, and in a day or two could decipher the names +of people on the doors of houses and over the shop-windows.<br> +<br> +As he grew up, his personal appearance became less prepossessing, his +quickness and cleverness, however, rather increased; and I may say of +him, that with respect to everything which he took in hand he did it +better and more speedily than any other person. Perhaps it will +be asked here, what became of him? Alas! alas! his was an early +and a foreign grave. As I have said before, the race is not always +for the swift, nor the battle for the strong.<br> +<br> +And now, doubtless, after the above portrait of my brother, painted +in the very best style of Rubens, the reader will conceive himself justified +in expecting a full-length one of myself, as a child, for as to my present +appearance, I suppose he will be tolerably content with that flitting +glimpse in the mirror. But he must excuse me; I have no intention +of drawing a portrait of myself in childhood; indeed it would be difficult, +for at that time I never looked into mirrors. No attempts, however, +were ever made to steal me in my infancy, and I never heard that my +parents entertained the slightest apprehension of losing me by the hands +of kidnappers, though I remember perfectly well that people were in +the habit of standing still to look at me, ay, more than at my brother; +from which premisses the reader may form any conclusion with respect +to my appearance which seemeth good unto him and reasonable. Should +he, being a good-natured person, and always inclined to adopt the charitable +side in any doubtful point, be willing to suppose that I, too, was eminently +endowed by nature with personal graces, I tell him frankly that I have +no objection whatever to his entertaining that idea; moreover, that +I heartily thank him, and shall at all times be disposed, under similar +circumstances, to exercise the same species of charity towards himself.<br> +<br> +With respect to my mind and its qualities I shall be more explicit; +for, were I to maintain much reserve on this point, many things which +appear in these memoirs would be highly mysterious to the reader, indeed +incomprehensible. Perhaps no two individuals were ever more unlike +in mind and disposition than my brother and myself: as light is opposed +to darkness, so was that happy, brilliant, cheerful child to the sad +and melancholy being who sprang from the same stock as himself, and +was nurtured by the same milk.<br> +<br> +Once, when travelling in an Alpine country, I arrived at a considerable +elevation; I saw in the distance, far below, a beautiful stream hastening +to the ocean, its rapid waters here sparkling in the sunshine, and there +tumbling merrily in cascades. On its banks were vineyards and +cheerful villages; close to where I stood, in a granite basin with steep +and precipitous sides, slumbered a deep, dark lagoon, shaded by black +pines, cypresses, and yews. It was a wild, savage spot, strange +and singular; ravens hovered above the pines, filling the air with their +uncouth notes, pies chattered, and I heard the cry of an eagle from +a neighbouring peak; there lay the lake, the dark, solitary, and almost +inaccessible lake; gloomy shadows were upon it, which, strangely modified, +as gusts of wind agitated the surface, occasionally assumed the shape +of monsters. So I stood on the Alpine elevation, and looked now +on the gay distant river, and now at the dark granite-encircled lake +close beside me in the lone solitude, and I thought of my brother and +myself. I am no moraliser; but the gay and rapid river, and the +dark and silent lake, were, of a verity, no had emblems of us two.<br> +<br> +So far from being quick and clever like my brother, and able to rival +the literary feat which I have recorded of him, many years elapsed before +I was able to understand the nature of letters, or to connect them. +A lover of nooks and retired corners, I was as a child in the habit +of fleeing from society, and of sitting for hours together with my head +on my breast. What I was thinking about, it would be difficult +to say at this distance of time; I remember perfectly well, however, +being ever conscious of a peculiar heaviness within me, and at times +of a strange sensation of fear, which occasionally amounted to horror, +and for which I could assign no real cause whatever.<br> +<br> +By nature slow of speech, I took no pleasure in conversation, nor in +hearing the voices of my fellow-creatures. When people addressed +me, I not unfrequently, especially if they were strangers, turned away +my head from them, and if they persisted in their notice burst into +tears, which singularity of behaviour by no means tended to dispose +people in my favour. I was as much disliked as my brother was +deservedly beloved and admired. My parents, it is true, were always +kind to me; and my brother, who was good nature itself, was continually +lavishing upon me every mark of affection.<br> +<br> +There was, however, one individual who, in the days of my childhood, +was disposed to form a favourable opinion of me. One day, a Jew +- I have quite forgotten the circumstance, but I was long subsequently +informed of it - one day a travelling Jew knocked at the door of a farmhouse +in which we had taken apartments; I was near at hand sitting in the +bright sunshine, drawing strange lines on the dust with my fingers, +an ape and dog were my companions; the Jew looked at me and asked me +some questions, to which, though I was quite able to speak, I returned +no answer. On the door being opened, the Jew, after a few words, +probably relating to pedlery, demanded who the child was, sitting in +the sun; the maid replied that I was her mistress’s youngest son, +a child weak <i>here</i>, pointing to her forehead. The Jew looked +at me again, and then said: ‘’Pon my conscience, my dear, +I believe that you must be troubled there yourself to tell me any such +thing. It is not my habit to speak to children, inasmuch as I +hate them, because they often follow me and fling stones after me; but +I no sooner looked at that child than I was forced to speak to it - +his not answering me shows his sense, for it has never been the custom +of the wise to fling away their words in indifferent talk and conversation; +the child is a sweet child, and has all the look of one of our people’s +children. Fool, indeed! did I not see his eyes sparkle just now +when the monkey seized the dog by the ear? - they shone like my own +diamonds - does your good lady want any - real and fine? Were +it not for what you tell me, I should say it was a prophet’s child. +Fool, indeed! he can write already, or I’ll forfeit the box which +I carry on my back, and for which I should be loth to take two hundred +pounds!’ He then leaned forward to inspect the lines which +I had traced. All of a sudden he started back, and grew white +as a sheet; then, taking off his hat, he made some strange gestures +to me, cringing, chattering, and showing his teeth, and shortly departed, +muttering something about ‘holy letters,’ and talking to +himself in a strange tongue. The words of the Jew were in due +course of time reported to my mother, who treasured them in her heart, +and from that moment began to entertain brighter hopes of her youngest +born than she had ever before ventured to foster.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER II<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Barracks and lodgings - A camp - The viper - A delicate child - Blackberry +time - <i>Meun</i> and <i>tuum</i> - Hythe - The Golgotha - Daneman’s +skull - Superhuman stature - Stirring times - The sea-bord.<br> +<br> +I have been a wanderer the greater part of my life; indeed I remember +only two periods, and these by no means lengthy, when I was, strictly +speaking, stationary. I was a soldier’s son, and as the +means of my father were by no means sufficient to support two establishments, +his family invariably attended him wherever he went, so that from my +infancy I was accustomed to travelling and wandering, and looked upon +a monthly change of scene and residence as a matter of course. +Sometimes we lived in barracks, sometimes in lodgings, but generally +in the former, always eschewing the latter from motives of economy, +save when the barracks were inconvenient and uncomfortable; and they +must have been highly so indeed, to have discouraged us from entering +them; for though we were gentry (pray bear that in mind, gentle reader), +gentry by birth, and incontestably so by my father’s bearing the +commission of good old George the Third, we were not <i>fine gentry</i>, +but people who could put up with as much as any genteel Scotch family +who find it convenient to live on a third floor in London, or on a sixth +at Edinburgh or Glasgow. It was not a little that could discourage +us: we once lived within the canvas walls of a camp, at a place called +Pett, in Sussex; and I believe it was at this place that occurred the +first circumstance, or adventure, call it which you will, that I can +remember in connection with myself: it was a strange one, and I will +relate it.<br> +<br> +It happened that my brother and myself were playing one evening in a +sandy lane, in the neighbourhood of this Pett camp; our mother was at +a slight distance. All of a sudden, a bright yellow, and, to my +infantine eye, beautiful and glorious, object made its appearance at +the top of the bank from between the thick quickset, and, gliding down, +began to move across the lane to the other side, like a line of golden +light. Uttering a cry of pleasure, I sprang forward, and seized +it nearly by the middle. A strange sensation of numbing coldness +seemed to pervade my whole arm, which surprised me the more, as the +object to the eye appeared so warm and sunlike. I did not drop +it, however, but, holding it up, looked at it intently, as its head +dangled about a foot from my hand. It made no resistance; I felt +not even the slightest struggle; but now my brother began to scream +and shriek like one possessed. ‘O mother, mother!’ +said he, ‘the viper! - my brother has a viper in his hand!’ +He then, like one frantic, made an effort to snatch the creature away +from me. The viper now hissed amain, and raised its head, in which +were eyes like hot coals, menacing, not myself, but my brother. +I dropped my captive, for I saw my mother running towards me; and the +reptile, after standing for a moment nearly erect, and still hissing +furiously, made off, and disappeared. The whole scene is now before +me, as vividly as if it occurred yesterday - the gorgeous viper, my +poor dear frantic brother, my agitated parent, and a frightened hen +clucking under the bushes - and yet I was not three years old.<br> +<br> +It is my firm belief that certain individuals possess an inherent power, +or fascination, over certain creatures, otherwise I should be unable +to account for many feats which I have witnessed, and, indeed, borne +a share in, connected with the taming of brutes and reptiles. +I have known a savage and vicious mare, whose stall it was dangerous +to approach, even when bearing provender, welcome, nevertheless, with +every appearance of pleasure, an uncouth, wiry-headed man, with a frightfully +seamed face, and an iron hook supplying the place of his right hand, +one whom the animal had never seen before, playfully bite his hair, +and cover his face with gentle and endearing kisses; and I have already +stated how a viper would permit, without resentment, one child to take +it up in his hand, whilst it showed its dislike to the approach of another +by the fiercest hissings. Philosophy can explain many strange +things, but there are some which are a far pitch above her, and this +is one.<br> +<br> +I should scarcely relate another circumstance which occurred about this +time but for a singular effect which it produced upon my constitution. +Up to this period I had been rather a delicate child; whereas, almost +immediately after the occurrence to which I allude, I became both hale +and vigorous, to the great astonishment of my parents, who naturally +enough expected that it would produce quite a contrary effect.<br> +<br> +It happened that my brother and myself were disporting ourselves in +certain fields near the good town of Canterbury. A female servant +had attended us, in order to take care that we came to no mischief: +she, however, it seems, had matters of her own to attend to, and, allowing +us to go where we listed, remained in one corner of a field, in earnest +conversation with a red-coated dragoon. Now it chanced to be blackberry +time, and the two children wandered under the hedges, peering anxiously +among them in quest of that trash so grateful to urchins of their degree. +We did not find much of it, however, and were soon separated in the +pursuit. All at once I stood still, and could scarcely believe +my eyes. I had come to a spot where, almost covering the hedge, +hung clusters of what seemed fruit - deliciously-tempting fruit - something +resembling grapes of various colours, green, red, and purple. +Dear me, thought I, how fortunate! yet have I a right to gather it? +is it mine? for the observance of the law of <i>meum</i> and <i>tuum</i> +had early been impressed upon my mind, and I entertained, even at that +tender age, the utmost horror for theft; so I stood staring at the variegated +clusters, in doubt as to what I should do. I know not how I argued +the matter in my mind; the temptation, however, was at last too strong +for me, so I stretched forth my hand and ate. I remember, perfectly +well, that the taste of this strange fruit was by no means so pleasant +as the appearance; but the idea of eating fruit was sufficient for a +child, and, after all, the flavour was much superior to that of sour +apples, so I ate voraciously. How long I continued eating I scarcely +know. One thing is certain, that I never left the field as I entered +it, being carried home in the arms of the dragoon in strong convulsions, +in which I continued for several hours. About midnight I awoke, +as if from a troubled sleep, and beheld my parents bending over my couch, +whilst the regimental surgeon, with a candle in his hand, stood nigh, +the light feebly reflected on the whitewashed walls of the barrack-room.<br> +<br> +Another circumstance connected with my infancy, and I have done. +I need offer no apology for relating it, as it subsequently exercised +considerable influence over my pursuits. We were, if I remember +right, in the vicinity of a place called Hythe, in Kent. One sweet +evening, in the latter part of summer, our mother took her two little +boys by the hand, for a wander about the fields. In the course +of our stroll we came to the village church; an old, gray-headed sexton +stood in the porch, who, perceiving that we were strangers, invited +us to enter. We were presently in the interior, wandering about +the aisles, looking on the walls, and inspecting the monuments of the +notable dead. I can scarcely state what we saw; how should I? +I was a child not yet four years old, and yet I think I remember the +evening sun streaming in through a stained window upon the dingy mahogany +pulpit, and flinging a rich lustre upon the faded tints of an ancient +banner. And now once more we were outside the building, where, +against the wall, stood a low-eaved pent-house, into which we looked. +It was half filled with substances of some kind, which at first looked +like large gray stones. The greater part were lying in layers; +some, however, were seen in confused and mouldering heaps, and two or +three, which had perhaps rolled down from the rest, lay separately on +the floor. ‘Skulls, madam,’ said the sexton; ‘skulls +of the old Danes! Long ago they came pirating into these parts; +and then there chanced a mighty shipwreck, for God was angry with them, +and He sunk them; and their skulls, as they came ashore, were placed +here as a memorial. There were many more when I was young, but +now they are fast disappearing. Some of them must have belonged +to strange fellows, madam. Only see that one; why, the two young +gentry can scarcely lift it!’ And, indeed, my brother and +myself had entered the Golgotha, and commenced handling these grim relics +of mortality. One enormous skull, lying in a corner, had fixed +our attention, and we had drawn it forth. Spirit of eld, what +a skull was yon!<br> +<br> +I still seem to see it, the huge grim thing; many of the others were +large, strikingly so, and appeared fully to justify the old man’s +conclusion that their owners must have been strange fellows; but, compared +with this mighty mass of bone, they looked small and diminutive like +those of pigmies; it must have belonged to a giant, one of those red-haired +warriors of whose strength and stature such wondrous tales are told +in the ancient chronicles of the north, and whose grave-hills, when +ransacked, occasionally reveal secrets which fill the minds of puny +moderns with astonishment and awe. Reader, have you ever pored +days and nights over the pages of Snorro? - probably not, for he wrote +in a language which few of the present day understand, and few would +be tempted to read him tamed down by Latin dragomans. A brave +old book is that of Snorro, containing the histories and adventures +of old northern kings and champions, who seemed to have been quite different +men, if we may judge from the feats which they performed, from those +of these days; one of the best of his histories is that which describes +the life of Harald Haardraade, who, after manifold adventures by land +and sea, now a pirate, now a mercenary of the Greek emperor, became +king of Norway, and eventually perished at the battle of Stamford Bridge, +whilst engaged in a gallant onslaught upon England. Now, I have +often thought that the old Kemp, whose mouldering skull in the Golgotha +of Hythe my brother and myself could scarcely lift, must have resembled +in one respect at least this Harald, whom Snorro describes as a great +and wise ruler and a determined leader, dangerous in battle, of fair +presence and measuring in height just <i>five ells</i>, neither more +nor less.<br> +<br> +I never forgot the Daneman’s skull; like the apparition of the +viper in the sandy lane, it dwelt in the mind of the boy, affording +copious food for the exercise of imagination. From that moment +with the name of Dane were associated strange ideas of strength, daring, +and superhuman stature; and an undefinable curiosity for all that is +connected with the Danish race began to pervade me; and if, long after, +when I became a student I devoted myself with peculiar zest to Danish +lore and the acquirement of the old Norse tongue and its dialects, I +can only explain the matter by the early impression received at Hythe +from the tale of the old sexton, beneath the pent-house, and the sight +of the Danish skull.<br> +<br> +And thus we went on straying from place to place, at Hythe to-day, and +perhaps within a week looking out from our hostel-window upon the streets +of old Winchester, our motions ever in accordance with the ‘route’ +of the regiment, so habituated to change of scene that it had become +almost necessary to our existence. Pleasant were these days of +my early boyhood; and a melancholy pleasure steals over me as I recall +them. Those were stirring times of which I am speaking, and there +was much passing around me calculated to captivate the imagination. +The dreadful struggle which so long convulsed Europe, and in which England +bore so prominent a part, was then at its hottest; we were at war, and +determination and enthusiasm shone in every face; man, woman, and child +were eager to fight the Frank, the hereditary, but, thank God, never +dreaded enemy of the Anglo-Saxon race. ‘Love your country +and beat the French, and then never mind what happens,’ was the +cry of entire England. Oh, those were days of power, gallant days, +bustling days, worth the bravest days of chivalry at least; tall battalions +of native warriors were marching through the land; there was the glitter +of the bayonet and the gleam of the sabre; the shrill squeak of the +fife and loud rattling of the drum were heard in the streets of country +towns, and the loyal shouts of the inhabitants greeted the soldiery +on their arrival, or cheered them at their departure. And now +let us leave the upland, and descend to the sea-bord; there is a sight +for you upon the billows! A dozen men-of-war are gliding majestically +out of port, their long buntings streaming from the top-gallant masts, +calling on the skulking Frenchman to come forth from his bights and +bays; and what looms upon us yonder from the fog-bank in the east? a +gallant frigate towing behind her the long low hull of a crippled privateer, +which but three short days ago had left Dieppe to skim the sea, and +whose crew of ferocious hearts are now cursing their imprudence in an +English hold. Stirring times those, which I love to recall, for +they were days of gallantry and enthusiasm, and were moreover the days +of my boyhood.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER III<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Pretty D- - The venerable church - The stricken heart - Dormant energies +- The small packet - Nerves - The books - A picture - Mountain-like +billows - The footprint - Spirit of De Foe - Reasoning powers - Terrors +of God - Heads of the dragons - High-Church clerk - A journey - The +drowned country.<br> +<br> +And when I was between six and seven years of age we were once more +at D-, the place of my birth, whither my father had been despatched +on the recruiting service. I have already said that it was a beautiful +little town - at least it was at the time of which I am speaking - what +it is at present I know not, for thirty years and more have elapsed +since I last trod its streets. It will scarcely have improved, +for how could it be better than it then was? I love to think on +thee, pretty quiet D-, thou pattern of an English country town, with +thy clean but narrow streets branching out from thy modest market-place, +with thine old-fashioned houses, with here and there a roof of venerable +thatch, with thy one half-aristocratic mansion, where resided thy Lady +Bountiful - she, the generous and kind, who loved to visit the sick, +leaning on her gold-headed cane, whilst the sleek old footman walked +at a respectful distance behind. Pretty quiet D-, with thy venerable +church, in which moulder the mortal remains of England’s sweetest +and most pious bard.<br> +<br> +Yes, pretty D-, I could always love thee, were it but for the sake of +him who sleeps beneath the marble slab in yonder quiet chancel. +It was within thee that the long-oppressed bosom heaved its last sigh, +and the crushed and gentle spirit escaped from a world in which it had +known nought but sorrow. Sorrow! do I say? How faint a word +to express the misery of that bruised reed; misery so dark that a blind +worm like myself is occasionally tempted to exclaim, Better had the +world never been created than that one so kind, so harmless, and so +mild, should have undergone such intolerable woe! But it is over +now, for, as there is an end of joy, so has affliction its termination. +Doubtless the All-wise did not afflict him without a cause: who knows +but within that unhappy frame lurked vicious seeds which the sunbeams +of joy and prosperity might have called into life and vigour? +Perhaps the withering blasts of misery nipped that which otherwise might +have terminated in fruit noxious and lamentable. But peace to +the unhappy one, he is gone to his rest; the death-like face is no longer +occasionally seen timidly and mournfully looking for a moment through +the window-pane upon thy market-place, quiet and pretty D-; the hind +in thy neighbourhood no longer at evening-fall views, and starts as +he views, the dark lathy figure moving beneath the hazels and alders +of shadowy lanes, or by the side of murmuring trout streams, and no +longer at early dawn does the sexton of the old church reverently doff +his hat, as, supported by some kind friend, the death-stricken creature +totters along the church-path to that mouldering edifice with the low +roof, inclosing a spring of sanatory waters, built and devoted to some +saint, if the legend over the door be true, by the daughter of an East +Anglian king.<br> +<br> +But to return to my own history. I had now attained the age of +six: shall I state what intellectual progress I had been making up to +this period? Alas! upon this point I have little to say calculated +to afford either pleasure or edification; I had increased rapidly in +size and in strength: the growth of the mind, however, had by no means +corresponded with that of the body. It is true, I had acquired +my letters, and was by this time able to read imperfectly; but this +was all: and even this poor triumph over absolute ignorance would never +have been effected but for the unremitting attention of my parents, +who, sometimes by threats, sometimes by entreaties, endeavoured to rouse +the dormant energies of my nature, and to bend my wishes to the acquisition +of the rudiments of knowledge; but in influencing the wish lay the difficulty. +Let but the will of a human being be turned to any particular object, +and it is ten to one that sooner or later he achieves it. At this +time I may safely say that I harboured neither wishes nor hopes; I had +as yet seen no object calculated to call them forth, and yet I took +pleasure in many things which perhaps unfortunately were all within +my sphere of enjoyment. I loved to look upon the heavens, and +to bask in the rays of the sun, or to sit beneath hedgerows and listen +to the chirping of the birds, indulging the while in musing and meditation +as far as my very limited circle of ideas would permit; but, unlike +my brother, who was at this time at school, and whose rapid progress +in every branch of instruction astonished and delighted his preceptors, +I took no pleasure in books, whose use, indeed, I could scarcely comprehend, +and bade fair to be as arrant a dunce as ever brought the blush of shame +into the cheeks of anxious and affectionate parents.<br> +<br> +But the time was now at hand when the ice which had hitherto bound the +mind of the child with its benumbing power was to be thawed, and a world +of sensations and ideas awakened to which it had hitherto been an entire +stranger. One day a young lady, an intimate acquaintance of our +family, and godmother to my brother, drove up to the house in which +we dwelt; she stayed some time conversing with my mother, and on rising +to depart, she put down on the table a small packet, exclaiming, ‘I +have brought a little present for each of the boys: the one is a History +of England, which I intend for my godson when he returns from school, +the other is . . .’ - and here she said something which escaped +my ear, as I sat at some distance, moping in a corner, - ‘I intend +it for the youngster yonder,’ pointing to myself; she then departed, +and, my mother going out shortly after, I was left alone.<br> +<br> +I remember for some time sitting motionless in my corner, with my eyes +bent upon the ground; at last I lifted my head and looked upon the packet +as it lay on the table. All at once a strange sensation came over +me, such as I had never experienced before - a singular blending of +curiosity, awe, and pleasure, the remembrance of which, even at this +distance of time, produces a remarkable effect upon my nervous system. +What strange things are the nerves - I mean those more secret and mysterious +ones in which I have some notion that the mind or soul, call it which +you will, has its habitation; how they occasionally tingle and vibrate +before any coming event closely connected with the future weal or woe +of the human being. Such a feeling was now within me, certainly +independent of what the eye had seen or the ear had heard. A book +of some description had been brought for me, a present by no means calculated +to interest me; what cared I for books? I had already many into +which I never looked but from compulsion; friends, moreover, had presented +me with similar things before, which I had entirely disregarded, and +what was there in this particular book, whose very title I did not know, +calculated to attract me more than the rest? yet something within told +me that my fate was connected with the book which had been last brought; +so, after looking on the packet from my corner for a considerable time, +I got up and went to the table.<br> +<br> +The packet was lying where it had been left - I took it up; had the +envelope, which consisted of whitish brown paper, been secured by a +string or a seal, I should not have opened it, as I should have considered +such an act almost in the light of a crime; the books, however, had +been merely folded up, and I therefore considered that there could be +no possible harm in inspecting them, more especially as I had received +no injunction to the contrary. Perhaps there was something unsound +in this reasoning, something sophistical; but a child is sometimes as +ready as a grown-up person in finding excuses for doing that which he +is inclined to. But whether the action was right or wrong, and +I am afraid it was not altogether right, I undid the packet: it contained +three books; two from their similarity seemed to be separate parts of +one and the same work; they were handsomely bound, and to them I first +turned my attention. I opened them successively, and endeavoured +to make out their meaning; their contents, however, as far as I was +able to understand them, were by no means interesting: whoever pleases +may read these books for me, and keep them, too, into the bargain, said +I to myself.<br> +<br> +I now took up the third book: it did not resemble the others, being +longer and considerably thicker; the binding was of dingy calf-skin. +I opened it, and as I did so another strange thrill of pleasure shot +through my frame. The first object on which my eyes rested was +a picture; it was exceedingly well executed, at least the scene which +it represented made a vivid impression upon me, which would hardly have +been the case had the artist not been faithful to nature. A wild +scene it was - a heavy sea and rocky shore, with mountains in the background, +above which the moon was peering. Not far from the shore, upon +the water, was a boat with two figures in it, one of which stood at +the bow, pointing with what I knew to be a gun at a dreadful shape in +the water; fire was flashing from the muzzle of the gun, and the monster +appeared to be transfixed. I almost thought I heard its cry. +I remained motionless, gazing upon the picture, scarcely daring to draw +my breath, lest the new and wondrous world should vanish of which I +had now obtained a glimpse. ‘Who are those people, and what +could have brought them into that strange situation?’ I asked +of myself; and now the seed of curiosity, which had so long lain dormant, +began to expand, and I vowed to myself to become speedily acquainted +with the whole history of the people in the boat. After looking +on the picture till every mark and line in it were familiar to me, I +turned over various leaves till I came to another engraving; a new source +of wonder - a low sandy beach on which the furious sea was breaking +in mountain-like billows; cloud and rack deformed the firmament, which +wore a dull and leaden-like hue; gulls and other aquatic fowls were +toppling upon the blast, or skimming over the tops of the maddening +waves - ‘Mercy upon him! he must be drowned!’ I exclaimed, +as my eyes fell upon a poor wretch who appeared to be striving to reach +the shore; he was upon his legs, but was evidently half smothered with +the brine; high above his head curled a horrible billow, as if to engulf +him for ever. ‘He must be drowned! he must be drowned!’ +I almost shrieked, and dropped the book. I soon snatched it up +again, and now my eye lighted on a third picture: again a shore, but +what a sweet and lovely one, and how I wished to be treading it; there +were beautiful shells lying on the smooth white sand, some were empty +like those I had occasionally seen on marble mantelpieces, but out of +others peered the heads and bodies of wondrous crayfish, a wood of thick +green trees skirted the beach and partly shaded it from the rays of +the sun, which shone hot above, while blue waves slightly crested with +foam were gently curling against it; there was a human figure upon the +beach, wild and uncouth, clad in the skins of animals, with a huge cap +on his head, a hatchet at his girdle, and in his hand a gun; his feet +and legs were bare; he stood in an attitude of horror and surprise; +his body was bent far back, and his eyes, which seemed starting out +of his head, were fixed upon a mark on the sand - a large distinct mark +- a human footprint. . . .<br> +<br> +Reader, is it necessary to name the book which now stood open in my +hand, and whose very prints, feeble expounders of its wondrous lines, +had produced within me emotions strange and novel? Scarcely - +for it was a book which has exerted over the minds of Englishmen an +influence certainly greater than any other of modern times - which has +been in most people’s hands, and with the contents of which even +those who cannot read are to a certain extent acquainted - a book from +which the most luxuriant and fertile of our modern prose writers have +drunk inspiration - a book, moreover, to which, from the hardy deeds +which it narrates, and the spirit of strange and romantic enterprise +which it tends to awaken, England owes many of her astonishing discoveries +both by sea and land, and no inconsiderable part of her naval glory.<br> +<br> +Hail to thee, spirit of De Foe! What does not my own poor self +owe to thee? England has better bards than either Greece or Rome, +yet I could spare them easier far than De Foe, ‘unabashed De Foe,’ +as the hunchbacked rhymer styled him.<br> +<br> +The true chord had now been touched; a raging curiosity with respect +to the contents of the volume, whose engravings had fascinated my eye, +burned within me, and I never rested until I had fully satisfied it; +weeks succeeded weeks, months followed months, and the wondrous volume +was my only study and principal source of amusement. For hours +together I would sit poring over a page till I had become acquainted +with the import of every line. My progress, slow enough at first, +became by degrees more rapid, till at last, under ‘a shoulder +of mutton sail,’ I found myself cantering before a steady breeze +over an ocean of enchantment, so well pleased with my voyage that I +cared not how long it might be ere it reached its termination.<br> +<br> +And it was in this manner that I first took to the paths of knowledge.<br> +<br> +About this time I began to be somewhat impressed with religious feelings. +My parents were, to a certain extent, religious people; but, though +they had done their best to afford me instruction on religious points, +I had either paid no attention to what they endeavoured to communicate, +or had listened with an ear far too obtuse to derive any benefit. +But my mind had now become awakened from the drowsy torpor in which +it had lain so long, and the reasoning powers which I possessed were +no longer inactive. Hitherto I had entertained no conception whatever +of the nature and properties of God, and with the most perfect indifference +had heard the divine name proceeding from the mouths of people - frequently, +alas! on occasions when it ought not to be employed; but I now never +heard it without a tremor, for I now knew that God was an awful and +inscrutable Being, the Maker of all things; that we were His children, +and that we, by our sins, had justly offended Him; that we were in very +great peril from His anger, not so much in this life as in another and +far stranger state of being yet to come; that we had a Saviour withal +to whom it was necessary to look for help: upon this point, however, +I was yet very much in the dark, as, indeed, were most of those with +whom I was connected. The power and terrors of God were uppermost +in my thoughts; they fascinated though they astounded me. Twice +every Sunday I was regularly taken to the church, where, from a corner +of the large spacious pew, lined with black leather, I would fix my +eyes on the dignified High-Church rector, and the dignified High-Church +clerk, and watch the movement of their lips, from which, as they read +their respective portions of the venerable liturgy, would roll many +a portentous word descriptive of the wondrous works of the Most High.<br> +<br> +<i>Rector</i>. Thou didst divide the sea, through thy power: thou +brakest the heads of the dragons in the waters.<br> +<br> +<i>Philoh</i>. Thou smotest the heads of Leviathan in pieces: +and gavest him to be meat for the people in the wilderness.<br> +<br> +<i>Rector</i>. Thou broughtest out fountains, and waters out of +the hard rocks: thou driedst up mighty waters.<br> +<br> +<i>Philoh</i>. The day is thine, and the night is thine: thou +hast prepared the light and the sun.<br> +<br> +Peace to your memories, dignified rector, and yet more dignified clerk! +- by this time ye are probably gone to your long homes, and your voices +are no longer heard sounding down the aisles of the venerable church +- nay, doubtless, this has already long since been the fate of him of +the sonorous ‘Amen!’ - the one of the two who, with all +due respect to the rector, principally engrossed my boyish admiration +- he, at least, is scarcely now among the living! Living! why, I have +heard say that he blew a fife - for he was a musical as well as a Christian +professor - a bold fife, to cheer the Guards and the brave Marines, +as they marched with measured step, obeying an insane command, up Bunker’s +height, whilst the rifles of the sturdy Yankees were sending the leaden +hail sharp and thick amidst the red-coated ranks; for Philoh had not +always been a man of peace, nor an exhorter to turn the other cheek +to the smiter, but had even arrived at the dignity of a halberd in his +country’s service before his six-foot form required rest, and +the gray-haired veteran retired, after a long peregrination, to his +native town, to enjoy ease and respectability on a pension of ‘eighteenpence +a day’; and well did his fellow-townsmen act, when, to increase +that ease and respectability, and with a thoughtful regard for the dignity +of the good church service, they made him clerk and precentor - the +man of the tall form and of the audible voice, which sounded loud and +clear as his own Bunker fife. Well, peace to thee, thou fine old +chap, despiser of dissenters, and hater of papists, as became a dignified +and High-Church clerk; if thou art in thy grave, the better for thee; +thou wert fitted to adorn a bygone time, when loyalty was in vogue, +and smiling content lay like a sunbeam upon the land, but thou wouldst +be sadly out of place in these days of cold philosophic latitudinarian +doctrine, universal tolerism, and half-concealed rebellion - rare times, +no doubt, for papists and dissenters, but which would assuredly have +broken the heart of the loyal soldier of George the Third, and the dignified +High-Church clerk of pretty D-.<br> +<br> +We passed many months at this place: nothing, however, occurred requiring +any particular notice, relating to myself, beyond what I have already +stated, and I am not writing the history of others. At length +my father was recalled to his regiment, which at that time was stationed +at a place called Norman Cross, in Lincolnshire, or rather Huntingdonshire, +at some distance from the old town of Peterborough. For this place +he departed, leaving my mother and myself to follow in a few days. +Our journey was a singular one. On the second day we reached a +marshy and fenny country, which, owing to immense quantities of rain +which had lately fallen, was completely submerged. At a large +town we got on board a kind of passage-boat, crowded with people; it +had neither sails nor oars, and those were not the days of steam-vessels; +it was a treck-schuyt, and was drawn by horses. Young as I was, +there was much connected with this journey which highly surprised me, +and which brought to my remembrance particular scenes described in the +book which I now generally carried in my bosom. The country was, +as I have already said, submerged - entirely drowned - no land was visible; +the trees were growing bolt upright in the flood, whilst farmhouses +and cottages were standing insulated; the horses which drew us were +up to the knees in water, and, on coming to blind pools and ‘greedy +depths,’ were not unfrequently swimming, in which case, the boys +or urchins who mounted them sometimes stood, sometimes knelt, upon the +saddle and pillions. No accident, however, occurred either to +the quadrupeds or bipeds, who appeared respectively to be quite <i>au +fait</i> in their business, and extricated themselves with the greatest +ease from places in which Pharaoh and all his host would have gone to +the bottom. Nightfall brought us to Peterborough, and from thence +we were not slow in reaching the place of our destination.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER IV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Norman Cross - Wide expanse - <i>Vive</i> <i>l’Empereur</i> - +Unpruned woods - Man with the bag - Froth and conceit - I beg your pardon +- Growing timid - About three o’clock - Taking one’s ease +- Cheek on the ground - King of the vipers - French king - Frenchmen +and water.<br> +<br> +And a strange place it was, this Norman Cross, and, at the time of which +I am speaking, a sad cross to many a Norman, being what was then styled +a French prison, that is, a receptacle for captives made in the French +war. It consisted, if I remember right, of some five or six casernes, +very long, and immensely high; each standing isolated from the rest, +upon a spot of ground which might average ten acres, and which was fenced +round with lofty palisades, the whole being compassed about by a towering +wall, beneath which, at intervals, on both sides, sentinels were stationed, +whilst outside, upon the field, stood commodious wooden barracks, capable +of containing two regiments of infantry, intended to serve as guards +upon the captives. Such was the station or prison at Norman Cross, +where some six thousand French and other foreigners, followers of the +grand Corsican, were now immured.<br> +<br> +What a strange appearance had those mighty casernes, with their blank +blind walls, without windows or grating, and their slanting roofs, out +of which, through orifices where the tiles had been removed, would be +protruded dozens of grim heads, feasting their prison-sick eyes on the +wide expanse of country unfolded from that airy height. Ah! there +was much misery in those casernes; and from those roofs, doubtless, +many a wistful look was turned in the direction of lovely France. +Much had the poor inmates to endure, and much to complain of, to the +disgrace of England be it said - of England, in general so kind and +bountiful. Rations of carrion meat, and bread from which I have +seen the very hounds occasionally turn away, were unworthy entertainment +even for the most ruffian enemy, when helpless and a captive; and such, +alas! was the fare in those casernes. And then, those visits, +or rather ruthless inroads, called in the slang of the place ‘strawplait-hunts,’ +when in pursuit of a contraband article, which the prisoners, in order +to procure themselves a few of the necessaries and comforts of existence, +were in the habit of making, red-coated battalions were marched into +the prisons, who, with the bayonet’s point, carried havoc and +ruin into every poor convenience which ingenious wretchedness had been +endeavouring to raise around it; and then the triumphant exit with the +miserable booty; and, worst of all, the accursed bonfire, on the barrack +parade, of the plait contraband, beneath the view of the glaring eyeballs +from those lofty roofs, amidst the hurrahs of the troops, frequently +drowned in the curses poured down from above like a tempest-shower or +in the terrific warw-hoop of ‘<i>Vive l’Empereur</i>!’<br> +<br> +It was midsummer when we arrived at this place, and the weather, which +had for a long time been wet and gloomy, now became bright and glorious; +I was subjected to but little control, and passed my time pleasantly +enough, principally in wandering about the neighbouring country. +It was flat and somewhat fenny, a district more of pasture than agriculture, +and not very thickly inhabited. I soon became well acquainted +with it. At the distance of two miles from the station was a large +lake, styled in the dialect of the country ‘a mere,’ about +whose borders tall reeds were growing in abundance, this was a frequent +haunt of mine; but my favourite place of resort was a wild sequestered +spot at a somewhat greater distance. Here, surrounded with woods +and thick groves, was the seat of some ancient family, deserted by the +proprietor, and only inhabited by a rustic servant or two. A place +more solitary and wild could scarcely be imagined; the garden and walks +were overgrown with weeds and briers, and the unpruned woods were so +tangled as to be almost impervious. About this domain I would +wander till overtaken by fatigue, and then I would sit down with my +back against some beech, elm, or stately alder tree, and, taking out +my book, would pass hours in a state of unmixed enjoyment, my eyes now +fixed on the wondrous pages, now glancing at the sylvan scene around; +and sometimes I would drop the book and listen to the voice of the rooks +and wild pigeons, and not unfrequently to the croaking of multitudes +of frogs from the neighbouring swamps and fens.<br> +<br> +In going to and from this place I frequently passed a tall elderly individual, +dressed in rather a quaint fashion, with a skin cap on his head and +stout gaiters on his legs; on his shoulders hung a moderate sized leathern +sack; he seemed fond of loitering near sunny banks, and of groping amidst +furze and low scrubby bramble bushes, of which there were plenty in +the neighbourhood of Norman Cross. Once I saw him standing in +the middle of a dusty road, looking intently at a large mark which seemed +to have been drawn across it, as if by a walking stick. ‘He +must have been a large one,’ the old man muttered half to himself, +‘or he would not have left such a trail, I wonder if he is near; +he seems to have moved this way.’ He then went behind some +bushes which grew on the right side of the road, and appeared to be +in quest of something, moving behind the bushes with his head downwards, +and occasionally striking their roots with his foot: at length he exclaimed, +‘Here he is!’ and forthwith I saw him dart amongst the bushes. +There was a kind of scuffling noise, the rustling of branches, and the +crackling of dry sticks. ‘I have him!’ said the man +at last; ‘I have got him!’ and presently he made his appearance +about twenty yards down the road, holding a large viper in his hand. +‘What do you think of that, my boy?’ said he, as I went +up to him - ‘what do you think of catching such a thing as that +with the naked hand?’ ‘What do I think?’ said +I. ‘Why, that I could do as much myself.’ ‘You +do,’ said the man, ‘do you? Lord! how the young people +in these days are given to conceit; it did not use to be so in my time: +when I was a child, childer knew how to behave themselves; but the childer +of these days are full of conceit, full of froth, like the mouth of +this viper’; and with his forefinger and thumb he squeezed a considerable +quantity of foam from the jaws of the viper down upon the road. +‘The childer of these days are a generation of - God forgive me, +what was I about to say?’ said the old man; and opening his bag +he thrust the reptile into it, which appeared far from empty. +I passed on. As I was returning, towards the evening, I overtook +the old man, who was wending in the same direction. ‘Good +evening to you, sir,’ said I, taking off a cap which I wore on +my head. ‘Good evening,’ said the old man; and then, +looking at me, ‘How’s this?’ said he, ‘you aren’t, +sure, the child I met in the morning?’ ‘Yes,’ +said I, ‘I am; what makes you doubt it?’ ‘Why, +you were then all froth and conceit,’ said the old man, ‘and +now you take off your cap to me.’ ‘I beg your pardon,’ +said I, ‘if I was frothy and conceited; it ill becomes a child +like me to be so.’ ‘That’s true, dear,’ +said the old man; ‘well, as you have begged my pardon, I truly +forgive you.’ ‘Thank you,’ said I; ‘have +you caught any more of those things?’ ‘Only four or +five,’ said the old man; ‘they are getting scarce, though +this used to be a great neighbourhood for them.’ ‘And +what do you do with them?’ said I; ‘do you carry them home +and play with them?’ ‘I sometimes play with one or +two that I tame,’ said the old man; ‘but I hunt them mostly +for the fat which they contain, out of which I make unguents which are +good for various sore troubles, especially for the rheumatism.’ +‘And do you get your living by hunting these creatures?’ +I demanded. ‘Not altogether,’ said the old man; ‘besides +being a viper-hunter, I am what they call a herbalist, one who knows +the virtue of particular herbs; I gather them at the proper season, +to make medicines with for the sick.’ ‘And do you +live in the neighbourhood?’ I demanded. ‘You seem +very fond of asking questions, child. No, I do not live in this +neighbourhood in particular, I travel about; I have not been in this +neighbourhood till lately for some years.’<br> +<br> +From this time the old man and myself formed an acquaintance; I often +accompanied him in his wanderings about the neighbourhood, and, on two +or three occasions, assisted him in catching the reptiles which he hunted. +He generally carried a viper with him which he had made quite tame, +and from which he had extracted the poisonous fangs; it would dance +and perform various kinds of tricks. He was fond of telling me +anecdotes connected with his adventures with the reptile species. +‘But,’ said he one day, sighing, ‘I must shortly give +up this business, I am no longer the man I was, I am become timid, and +when a person is timid in viper-hunting, he had better leave off, as +it is quite clear his virtue is leaving him. I got a fright some +years ago, which I am quite sure I shall never get the better of; my +hand has been shaky more or less ever since.’ ‘What +frightened you?’ said I. ‘I had better not tell you,’ +said the old man, ‘or you may be frightened too, lose your virtue, +and be no longer good for the business.’ ‘I don’t +care,’ said I; ‘I don’t intend to follow the business: +I daresay I shall be an officer, like my father.’ ‘Well,’ +said the old man, ‘I once saw the king of the vipers, and since +then - ’ ‘The king of the vipers!’ said I, interrupting +him; ‘have the vipers a king?’ ‘As sure as we +have,’ said the old man - ‘as sure as we have King George +to rule over us, have these reptiles a king to rule over them.’ +‘And where did you see him?’ said I. ‘I will +tell you,’ said the old man, ‘though I don’t like +talking about the matter. It may be about seven years ago that +I happened to be far down yonder to the west, on the other side of England, +nearly two hundred miles from here, following my business. It +was a very sultry day, I remember, and I had been out several hours +catching creatures. It might be about three o’clock in the +afternoon, when I found myself on some heathy land near the sea, on +the ridge of a hill, the side of which, nearly as far down as the sea, +was heath; but on the top there was arable ground, which had been planted, +and from which the harvest had been gathered - oats or barley, I know +not which - but I remember that the ground was covered with stubble. +Well, about three o’clock, as I told you before, what with the +heat of the day and from having walked about for hours in a lazy way, +I felt very tired; so I determined to have a sleep, and I laid myself +down, my head just on the ridge of the hill, towards the field, and +my body over the side down amongst the heath; my bag, which was nearly +filled with creatures, lay at a little distance from my face; the creatures +were struggling in it, I remember, and I thought to myself, how much +more comfortably off I was than they; I was taking my ease on the nice +open hill, cooled with the breezes, whilst they were in the nasty close +bag, coiling about one another, and breaking their very hearts, all +to no purpose: and I felt quite comfortable and happy in the thought, +and little by little closed my eyes, and fell into the sweetest snooze +that ever I was in in all my life; and there I lay over the hill’s +side, with my head half in the field, I don’t know how long, all +dead asleep. At last it seemed to me that I heard a noise in my +sleep, something like a thing moving, very faint, however, far away; +then it died, and then it came again upon my ear as I slept, and now +it appeared almost as if I heard crackle, crackle; then it died again, +or I became yet more dead asleep than before, I know not which, but +I certainly lay some time without hearing it. All of a sudden +I became awake, and there was I, on the ridge of the hill, with my cheek +on the ground towards the stubble, with a noise in my ear like that +of something moving towards me amongst the stubble of the field; well, +I lay a moment or two listening to the noise, and then I became frightened, +for I did not like the noise at all, it sounded so odd; so I rolled +myself on my belly, and looked towards the stubble. Mercy upon +us! there was a huge snake, or rather a dreadful viper, for it was all +yellow and gold, moving towards me, bearing its head about a foot and +a half above the ground, the dry stubble crackling beneath its outrageous +belly. It might be about five yards off when I first saw it, making +straight towards me, child, as if it would devour me. I lay quite +still, for I was stupefied with horror, whilst the creature came still +nearer; and now it was nearly upon me, when it suddenly drew back a +little, and then - what do you think? - it lifted its head and chest +high in the air, and high over my face as I looked up, flickering at +me with its tongue as if it would fly at my face. Child, what +I felt at that moment I can scarcely say, but it was a sufficient punishment +for all the sins I ever committed; and there we two were, I looking +up at the viper, and the viper looking down upon me, flickering at me +with its tongue. It was only the kindness of God that saved me: +all at once there was a loud noise, the report of a gun, for a fowler +was shooting at a covey of birds, a little way off in the stubble. +Whereupon the viper sunk its head, and immediately made off over the +ridge of the hill, down in the direction of the sea. As it passed +by me, however - and it passed close by me - it hesitated a moment, +as if it was doubtful whether it should not seize me; it did not, however, +but made off down the hill. It has often struck me that he was +angry with me, and came upon me unawares for presuming to meddle with +his people, as I have always been in the habit of doing.’<br> +<br> +‘But,’ said I, ‘how do you know that it was the king +of the vipers?’<br> +<br> +‘How do I know!’ said the old man, ‘who else should +it be? There was as much difference between it and other reptiles +as between King George and other people.’<br> +<br> +‘Is King George, then, different from other people?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘Of course,’ said the old man; ‘I have never seen +him myself, but I have heard people say that he is a ten times greater +man than other folks; indeed, it stands to reason that he must be different +from the rest, else people would not be so eager to see him. Do +you think, child, that people would be fools enough to run a matter +of twenty or thirty miles to see the king, provided King George - ’<br> +<br> +‘Haven’t the French a king?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said the old man, ‘or something much the same, +and a queer one he is; not quite so big as King George, they say, but +quite as terrible a fellow. What of him?’<br> +<br> +‘Suppose he should come to Norman Cross!’<br> +<br> +‘What should he do at Norman Cross, child?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, you were talking about the vipers in your bag breaking their +hearts, and so on, and their king coming to help them. Now, suppose +the French king should hear of his people being in trouble at Norman +Cross, and - ’<br> +<br> +‘He can’t come, child,’ said the old man, rubbing +his hands, ‘the water lies between. The French don’t +like the water; neither vipers nor Frenchmen take kindly to the water, +child.’<br> +<br> +When the old man left the country, which he did a few days after the +conversation which I have just related, he left me the reptile which +he had tamed and rendered quite harmless by removing the fangs. +I was in the habit of feeding it with milk, and frequently carried it +abroad with me in my walks.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER V<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The tent - Man and woman - Dark and swarthy - Manner of speaking - Bad +money - Transfixed - Faltering tone - Little basket - High opinion - +Plenty of good - Keeping guard - Tilted cart - Rubricals - Jasper - +The right sort - The horseman of the lane - John Newton - The alarm +- Gentle brothers.<br> +<br> +One day it happened that, being on my rambles, I entered a green lane +which I had never seen before; at first it was rather narrow, but as +I advanced it became considerably wider; in the middle was a driftway +with deep ruts, but right and left was a space carpeted with a sward +of trefoil and clover; there was no lack of trees, chiefly ancient oaks, +which, flinging out their arms from either side, nearly formed a canopy, +and afforded a pleasing shelter from the rays of the sun, which was +burning fiercely above. Suddenly a group of objects attracted +my attention. Beneath one of the largest of the trees, upon the +grass, was a kind of low tent or booth, from the top of which a thin +smoke was curling; beside it stood a couple of light carts, whilst two +or three lean horses or ponies were cropping the herbage which was growing +nigh. Wondering to whom this odd tent could belong, I advanced +till I was close before it, when I found that it consisted of two tilts, +like those of waggons, placed upon the ground and fronting each other, +connected behind by a sail or large piece of canvas which was but partially +drawn across the top; upon the ground, in the intervening space, was +a fire, over which, supported by a kind of iron crowbar, hung a caldron; +my advance had been so noiseless as not to alarm the inmates, who consisted +of a man and woman, who sat apart, one on each side of the fire; they +were both busily employed - the man was carding plaited straw, whilst +the woman seemed to be rubbing something with a white powder, some of +which lay on a plate beside her; suddenly the man looked up, and, perceiving +me, uttered a strange kind of cry, and the next moment both the woman +and himself were on their feet and rushing out upon me.<br> +<br> +I retreated a few steps, yet without turning to flee. I was not, +however, without apprehension, which, indeed, the appearance of these +two people was well calculated to inspire: the woman was a stout figure, +seemingly between thirty and forty; she wore no cap, and her long hair +fell on either side of her head like horse-tails half-way down her waist; +her skin was dark and swarthy, like that of a toad, and the expression +of her countenance was particularly evil; her arms were bare, and her +bosom was but half concealed by a slight bodice, below which she wore +a coarse petticoat, her only other article of dress. The man was +somewhat younger, but of a figure equally wild; his frame was long and +lathy, but his arms were remarkably short, his neck was rather bent, +he squinted slightly, and his mouth was much awry; his complexion was +dark, but, unlike that of the woman, was more ruddy than livid; there +was a deep scar on his cheek, something like the impression of a halfpenny. +The dress was quite in keeping with the figure: in his hat, which was +slightly peaked, was stuck a peacock’s feather; over a waistcoat +of hide, untanned and with the hair upon it, he wore a rough jerkin +of russet hue; smallclothes of leather, which had probably once belonged +to a soldier, but with which pipeclay did not seem to have come in contact +for many a year, protected his lower man as far as the knee; his legs +were cased in long stockings of blue worsted, and on his shoes he wore +immense old-fashioned buckles.<br> +<br> +Such were the two beings who now came rushing upon me; the man was rather +in advance, brandishing a ladle in his hand.<br> +<br> +‘So I have caught you at last,’ said he; ‘I’ll +teach ye, you young highwayman, to come skulking about my properties!’<br> +<br> +Young as I was, I remarked that his manner of speaking was different +from that of any people with whom I had been in the habit of associating. +It was quite as strange as his appearance, and yet it nothing resembled +the foreign English which I had been in the habit of hearing through +the palisades of the prison; he could scarcely be a foreigner.<br> +<br> +‘Your properties!’ said I; ‘I am in the King’s +Lane. Why did you put them there, if you did not wish them to +be seen?’<br> +<br> +‘On the spy,’ said the woman, ‘hey? I’ll +drown him in the sludge in the toad-pond over the hedge.’<br> +<br> +‘So we will,’ said the man, ‘drown him anon in the +mud!’<br> +<br> +‘Drown me, will you?’ said I; ‘I should like to see +you! What’s all this about? Was it because I saw you +with your hands full of straw plait, and my mother there - ’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said the woman; ‘what was I about?’<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. How should I know? Making bad money, perhaps!<br> +<br> +And it will be as well here to observe, that at this time there was +much bad money in circulation in the neighbourhood, generally supposed +to be fabricated by the prisoners, so that this false coin and straw +plait formed the standard subjects of conversation at Norman Cross.<br> +<br> +‘I’ll strangle thee,’ said the beldame, dashing at +me. ‘Bad money, is it?’<br> +<br> +‘Leave him to me, wifelkin,’ said the man, interposing; +‘you shall now see how I’ll baste him down the lane.’<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. I tell you what, my chap, you had better put down +that thing of yours; my father lies concealed within my tepid breast, +and if to me you offer any harm or wrong, I’ll call him forth +to help me with his forked tongue.<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. What do you mean, ye Bengui’s bantling? +I never heard such discourse in all my life: playman’s speech +or Frenchman’s talk - which, I wonder? Your father! +Tell the mumping villain that if he comes near my fire I’ll serve +him out as I will you. Take that - Tiny Jesus! what have +we got here? Oh, delicate Jesus! what is the matter with the child?<br> +<br> +I had made a motion which the viper understood; and now, partly disengaging +itself from my bosom, where it had lain perdu, it raised its head to +a level with my face, and stared upon my enemy with its glittering eyes.<br> +<br> +The man stood like one transfixed, and the ladle, with which he had +aimed a blow at me, now hung in the air like the hand which held it; +his mouth was extended, and his cheeks became of a pale yellow, save +alone that place which bore the mark which I have already described, +and this shone now portentously, like fire. He stood in this manner +for some time; at last the ladle fell from his hand, and its falling +appeared to rouse him from his stupor.<br> +<br> +‘I say, wifelkin,’ said he, in a faltering tone, ‘did +you ever see the like of this here?’<br> +<br> +But the woman had retreated to the tent, from the entrance of which +her loathly face was now thrust, with an expression partly of terror +and partly of curiosity. After gazing some time longer at the +viper and myself, the man stooped down and took up the ladle; then, +as if somewhat more assured, he moved to the tent, where he entered +into conversation with the beldame in a low voice. Of their discourse, +though I could hear the greater part of it, I understood not a single +word; and I wondered what it could be, for I knew by the sound that +it was not French. At last the man, in a somewhat louder tone, +appeared to put a question to the woman, who nodded her head affirmatively, +and in a moment or two produced a small stool, which she delivered to +him. He placed it on the ground, close by the door of the tent, +first rubbing it with his sleeve, as if for the purpose of polishing +its surface.<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. Now, my precious little gentleman, do sit down here +by the poor people’s tent; we wish to be civil in our slight way. +Don’t be angry, and say no; but look kindly upon us, and satisfied, +my precious little God Almighty.<br> +<br> +<i>Woman</i>. Yes, my gorgeous angel, sit down by the poor bodies’ +fire, and eat a sweetmeat. We want to ask you a question or two; +only first put that serpent away.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. I can sit down, and bid the serpent go to sleep, +that’s easy enough; but as for eating a sweetmeat, how can I do +that? I have not got one, and where am I to get it?<br> +<br> +<i>Woman</i>. Never fear, my tiny tawny, we can give you one, +such as you never ate, I daresay, however far you may have come from.<br> +<br> +The serpent sank into its usual resting-place, and I sat down on the +stool. The woman opened a box, and took out a strange little basket +or hamper, not much larger than a man’s fist, and formed of a +delicate kind of matting. It was sewed at the top; but, ripping +it open with a knife, she held it to me, and I saw, to my surprise, +that it contained candied fruits of a dark green hue, tempting enough +to one of my age. ‘There, my tiny,’ said she; ‘taste, +and tell me how you like them.’<br> +<br> +‘Very much,’ said I; ‘where did you get them?’<br> +<br> +The beldame leered upon me for a moment, then, nodding her head thrice, +with a knowing look, said, ‘Who knows better than yourself, my +tawny?’<br> +<br> +Now, I knew nothing about the matter; but I saw that these strange people +had conceived a very high opinion of the abilities of their visitor, +which I was nothing loth to encourage. I therefore answered boldly, +‘Ah! who indeed!’<br> +<br> +‘Certainly,’ said the man; ‘who should know better +than yourself, or so well? And now, my tiny one, let me ask you +one thing - you didn’t come to do us any harm?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘I had no dislike to you; though, if +you were to meddle with me - ’<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. Of course, my gorgeous, of course you would; and quite +right too. Meddle with you! - what right have we? I should +say, it would not be quite safe. I see how it is; you are one +of them there; - and he bent his head towards his left shoulder.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Yes, I am one of them - for I thought he was alluding +to the soldiers, - you had best mind what you are about, I can tell +you.<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. Don’t doubt we will for our own sake; Lord bless +you, wifelkin, only think that we should see one of them there when +we least thought about it. Well, I have heard of such things, +though I never thought to see one; however, seeing is believing. +Well! now you are come, and are not going to do us any mischief, I hope +you will stay; you can do us plenty of good if you will.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. What good could I do you?<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. What good? plenty! Would you not bring us luck? +I have heard say that one of them there always does, if it will but +settle down. Stay with us, you shall have a tilted cart all to +yourself if you like. We’ll make you our little God Almighty, +and say our prayers to you every morning!<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. That would be nice; and, if you were to give me +plenty of these things, I should have no objection. But what would +my father say? I think he would hardly let me.<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. Why not? he would be with you; and kindly would we +treat him. Indeed, without your father you would be nothing at +all.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. That’s true; but I do not think he could +be spared from his regiment. I have heard him say that they could +do nothing without him.<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. His regiment! What are you talking about? - +what does the child mean?<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. What do I mean! - why, that my father is an officer-man +at the barracks yonder, keeping guard over the French prisoners.<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. Oh! then that sap is not your father?<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. What, the snake? Why, no! Did you think +he was?<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. To be sure we did. Didn’t you tell me +so?<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Why, yes; but who would have thought you would +have believed it? It is a tame one. I hunt vipers, and tame +them.<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. O-h!<br> +<br> +‘O-h!’ grunted the woman, ‘that’s it, is it?’<br> +<br> +The man and woman, who during this conversation had resumed their former +positions within the tent, looked at each other with a queer look of +surprise, as if somewhat disconcerted at what they now heard. +They then entered into discourse with each other in the same strange +tongue which had already puzzled me. At length the man looked +me in the face, and said, somewhat hesitatingly, ‘So you are not +one of them there after all?’<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. One of them there? I don’t know what +you mean.<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. Why, we have been thinking you were a goblin - a devilkin! +However, I see how it is: you are a sap-engro, a chap who catches snakes, +and plays tricks with them! Well, it comes very nearly to the +same thing; and if you please to list with us, and bear us pleasant +company, we shall be glad of you. I’d take my oath upon +it, that we might make a mort of money by you and that sap, and the +tricks it could do; and, as you seem fly to everything, I shouldn’t +wonder if you would make a prime hand at telling fortunes.<br> +<br> +‘I shouldn’t wonder,’ said I.<br> +<br> +<i>Man</i>. Of course. And you might still be our God Almighty, +or at any rate our clergyman, so you should live in a tilted cart by +yourself, and say prayers to us night and morning - to wifelkin here, +and all our family; there’s plenty of us when we are all together: +as I said before, you seem fly, I shouldn’t wonder if you could +read?<br> +<br> +‘Oh yes!’ said I, ‘I can read’; and, eager to +display my accomplishments, I took my book out of my pocket, and, opening +it at random, proceeded to read how a certain man, whilst wandering +about a certain solitary island, entered a cave, the mouth of which +was overgrown with brushwood, and how he was nearly frightened to death +in that cave by something which he saw.<br> +<br> +‘That will do,’ said the man; ‘that’s the kind +of prayers for me and my family, aren’t they, wifelkin? +I never heard more delicate prayers in all my life! Why, they +beat the rubricals hollow! - and here comes my son Jasper. I say, +Jasper, here’s a young sap-engro that can read, and is more fly +than yourself. Shake hands with him; I wish ye to be two brothers.’<br> +<br> +With a swift but stealthy pace Jasper came towards us from the farther +part of the lane; on reaching the tent he stood still, and looked fixedly +upon me as I sat upon the stool; I looked fixedly upon him. A +queer look had Jasper; he was a lad of some twelve or thirteen years, +with long arms, unlike the singular being who called himself his father; +his complexion was ruddy, but his face was seamed, though it did not +bear the peculiar scar which disfigured the countenance of the other; +nor, though roguish enough, a certain evil expression which that of +the other bore, and which the face of the woman possessed in a yet more +remarkable degree. For the rest, he wore drab breeches, with certain +strings at the knee, a rather gay waistcoat, and tolerably white shirt; +under his arm he bore a mighty whip of whalebone with a brass knob, +and upon his head was a hat without either top or brim.<br> +<br> +‘There, Jasper! shake hands with the sap-engro.’<br> +<br> +‘Can he box, father?’ said Jasper, surveying me rather contemptuously. +‘I should think not, he looks so puny and small.’<br> +<br> +‘Hold your peace, fool!’ said the man; ‘he can do +more than that - I tell you he’s fly: he carries a sap about, +which would sting a ninny like you to dead.’<br> +<br> +‘What, a sap-engro!’ said the boy, with a singular whine, +and, stooping down, he leered curiously in my face, kindly, however, +and then patted me on the head. ‘A sap-engro,’ he +ejaculated; ‘lor!’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, and one of the right sort,’ said the man; ‘I +am glad we have met with him, he is going to list with us, and be our +clergyman and God Almighty, ain’t you, my tawny?’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t know,’ said I; ‘I must see what my +father will say.’<br> +<br> +‘Your father; bah!’ - but here he stopped, for a sound was +heard like the rapid galloping of a horse, not loud and distinct as +on a road, but dull and heavy as if upon a grass sward; nearer and nearer +it came, and the man, starting up, rushed out of the tent, and looked +around anxiously. I arose from the stool upon which I had been +seated, and just at that moment, amidst a crashing of boughs and sticks, +a man on horseback bounded over the hedge into the lane at a few yards’ +distance from where we were: from the impetus of the leap the horse +was nearly down on his knees; the rider, however, by dint of vigorous +handling of the reins, prevented him from falling, and then rode up +to the tent. ‘’Tis Nat,’ said the man; ‘what +brings him here?’ The new-comer was a stout burly fellow, +about the middle age; he had a savage determined look, and his face +was nearly covered over with carbuncles; he wore a broad slouching hat, +and was dressed in a gray coat, cut in a fashion which I afterwards +learnt to be the genuine Newmarket cut, the skirts being exceedingly +short; his waistcoat was of red plush, and he wore broad corduroy breeches +and white top-boots. The steed which carried him was of iron gray, +spirited and powerful, but covered with sweat and foam. The fellow +glanced fiercely and suspiciously around, and said something to the +man of the tent in a harsh and rapid voice. A short and hurried +conversation ensued in the strange tongue. I could not take my +eyes off this new-comer. Oh, that half-jockey, half-bruiser countenance, +I never forgot it! More than fifteen years afterwards I found +myself amidst a crowd before Newgate; a gallows was erected, and beneath +it stood a criminal, a notorious malefactor. I recognised him +at once; the horseman of the lane is now beneath the fatal tree, but +nothing altered; still the same man; jerking his head to the right and +left with the same fierce and under glance, just as if the affairs of +this world had the same kind of interest to the last; gray coat of Newmarket +cut, plush waistcoat, corduroys, and boots, nothing altered; but the +head, alas! is bare, and so is the neck. Oh, crime and virtue, +virtue and crime! - it was old John Newton, I think, who, when he saw +a man going to be hanged, said, ‘There goes John Newton, but for +the grace of God!’<br> +<br> +But the lane, the lane, all was now in confusion in the lane; the man +and woman were employed in striking the tents and in making hurried +preparations for departure; the boy Jasper was putting the harness upon +the ponies and attaching them to the carts; and, to increase the singularity +of the scene, two or three wild-looking women and girls, in red cloaks +and immense black beaver bonnets, came from I know not what direction, +and, after exchanging a few words with the others, commenced with fierce +and agitated gestures to assist them in their occupation. The +rider meanwhile sat upon his horse, but evidently in a state of great +impatience; he muttered curses between his teeth, spurred the animal +furiously, and then reined it in, causing it to rear itself up nearly +perpendicular. At last he said, ‘Curse ye for Romans, how +slow ye are! well, it is no business of mine, stay here all day if you +like; I have given ye warning, I am off to the big north road. +However, before I go, you had better give me all you have of that.’<br> +<br> +‘Truly spoken, Nat, my pal,’ said the man; ‘give it +him, mother. There it is; now be off as soon as you please, and +rid us of evil company.’<br> +<br> +The woman had handed him two bags formed of stocking, half full of something +heavy, which looked through them for all the world like money of some +kind. The fellow, on receiving them, thrust them without ceremony +into the pockets of his coat, and then, without a word of farewell salutation, +departed at a tremendous rate, the hoofs of his horse thundering for +a long time on the hard soil of the neighbouring road, till the sound +finally died away in the distance. The strange people were not +slow in completing their preparations, and then, flogging their animals +terrifically, hurried away seemingly in the same direction.<br> +<br> +The boy Jasper was last of the band. As he was following the rest, +he stopped suddenly, and looked on the ground appearing to muse; then, +turning round, he came up to me where I was standing, leered in my face, +and then, thrusting out his hand, he said, ‘Good-bye, Sap, I daresay +we shall meet again, remember we are brothers; two gentle brothers.’<br> +<br> +Then whining forth, ‘What a sap-engro, lor!’ he gave me +a parting leer, and hastened away.<br> +<br> +I remained standing in the lane gazing after the retreating company. +‘A strange set of people,’ said I at last; ‘wonder +who they can be?’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER VI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Three years - Lilly’s grammar - Proficiency - Ignorant of figures +- The school bell - Order of succession - Persecution - What are we +to do? - Northward - A goodly scene - Haunted ground - Feats of chivalry +- Rivers - Over the brig.<br> +<br> +Years passed on, even three years; during this period I had increased +considerably in stature and in strength, and, let us hope, improved +in mind; for I had entered on the study of the Latin language. +The very first person to whose care I was intrusted for the acquisition +of Latin was an old friend of my fathers, a clergyman who kept a seminary +at a town the very next we visited after our departure from ‘the +Cross.’ Under his instruction, however, I continued only +a few weeks, as we speedily left the place. ‘Captain,’ +said this divine, when my father came to take leave of him on the eve +of our departure, ‘I have a friendship for you, and therefore +wish to give you a piece of advice concerning this son of yours. +You are now removing him from my care; you do wrong, but we will let +that pass. Listen to me: there is but one good school-book in +the world - the one I use in my seminary - Lilly’s Latin grammar, +in which your son has already made some progress. If you are anxious +for the success of your son in life, for the correctness of his conduct +and the soundness of his principles, keep him to Lilly’s grammar. +If you can by any means, either fair or foul, induce him to get by heart +Lilly’s Latin grammar, you may set your heart at rest with respect +to him; I, myself, will be his warrant. I never yet knew a boy +that was induced, either by fair means or foul, to learn Lilly’s +Latin grammar by heart, who did not turn out a man, provided he lived +long enough.’<br> +<br> +My father, who did not understand the classical languages, received +with respect the advice of his old friend, and from that moment conceived +the highest opinion of Lilly’s Latin grammar. During three +years I studied Lilly’s Latin grammar under the tuition of various +schoolmasters, for I travelled with the regiment, and in every town +in which we were stationary I was invariably (God bless my father!) +sent to the classical academy of the place. It chanced, by good +fortune, that in the generality of these schools the grammar of Lilly +was in use; when, however, that was not the case, it made no difference +in my educational course, my father always stipulating with the masters +that I should be daily examined in Lilly. At the end of the three +years I had the whole by heart; you had only to repeat the first two +or three words of any sentence in any part of the book, and forthwith +I would open cry, commencing without blundering and hesitation, and +continue till you were glad to beg me to leave off, with many expressions +of admiration at my proficiency in the Latin language. Sometimes, +however, to convince you how well I merited these encomiums, I would +follow you to the bottom of the stair, and even into the street, repeating +in a kind of sing-song measure the sonorous lines of the golden schoolmaster. +If I am here asked whether I understood anything of what I had got by +heart, I reply - ‘Never mind, I understand it all now, and believe +that no one ever yet got Lilly’s Latin grammar by heart when young, +who repented of the feat at a mature age.’<br> +<br> +And, when my father saw that I had accomplished my task, he opened his +mouth, and said, ‘Truly, this is more than I expected. I +did not think that there had been so much in you, either of application +or capacity; you have now learnt all that is necessary, if my friend +Dr. B-’s opinion was sterling, as I have no doubt it was. +You are still a child, however, and must yet go to school, in order +that you may be kept out of evil company. Perhaps you may still +contrive, now you have exhausted the barn, to pick up a grain or two +in the barn-yard. You are still ignorant of figures, I believe, +not that I would mention figures in the same day with Lilly’s +grammar.’<br> +<br> +These words were uttered in a place called -, in the north, or in the +road to the north, to which, for some time past, our corps had been +slowly advancing. I was sent to the school of the place, which +chanced to be a day school. It was a somewhat extraordinary one, +and a somewhat extraordinary event occurred to me within its walls.<br> +<br> +It occupied part of the farther end of a small plain, or square, at +the outskirts of the town, close to some extensive bleaching fields. +It was a long low building of one room, with no upper story; on the +top was a kind of wooden box, or sconce, which I at first mistook for +a pigeon-house, but which in reality contained a bell, to which was +attached a rope, which, passing through the ceiling, hung dangling in +the middle of the school-room. I am the more particular in mentioning +this appurtenance, as I had soon occasion to scrape acquaintance with +it in a manner not very agreeable to my feelings. The master was +very proud of his bell, if I might judge from the fact of his eyes being +frequently turned to that part of the ceiling from which the rope depended. +Twice every day, namely, after the morning and evening tasks had been +gone through, were the boys rung out of school by the monotonous jingle +of this bell. This ringing out was rather a lengthy affair, for, +as the master was a man of order and method, the boys were only permitted +to go out of the room one by one; and as they were rather numerous, +amounting, at least, to one hundred, and were taught to move at a pace +of suitable decorum, at least a quarter of an hour elapsed from the +commencement of the march before the last boy could make his exit. +The office of bell-ringer was performed by every boy successively; and +it so happened that, the very first day of my attendance at the school, +the turn to ring the bell had, by order of succession, arrived at the +place which had been allotted to me; for the master, as I have already +observed, was a man of method and order, and every boy had a particular +seat, to which he became a fixture as long as he continued at the school.<br> +<br> +So, upon this day, when the tasks were done and completed, and the boys +sat with their hats and caps in their hands, anxiously expecting the +moment of dismissal, it was suddenly notified to me, by the urchins +who sat nearest to me, that I must get up and ring the bell. Now, +as this was the first time that I had been at the school, I was totally +unacquainted with the process, which I had never seen, and, indeed, +had never heard of till that moment. I therefore sat still, not +imagining it possible that any such duty could be required of me. +But now, with not a little confusion, I perceived that the eyes of all +the boys in the school were fixed upon me. Presently there were +nods and winks in the direction of the bell-rope; and, as these produced +no effect, uncouth visages were made, like those of monkeys when enraged; +teeth were gnashed, tongues thrust out, and even fists were bent at +me. The master, who stood at the end of the room, with a huge +ferule under his arm, bent full upon me a look of stern appeal; and +the ushers, of whom there were four, glared upon me, each from his own +particular corner, as I vainly turned, in one direction and another, +in search of one reassuring look.<br> +<br> +But now, probably in obedience to a sign from the master, the boys in +my immediate neighbourhood began to maltreat me. Some pinched me with +their fingers, some buffeted me, whilst others pricked me with pins, +or the points of compasses. These arguments were not without effect. +I sprang from my seat, and endeavoured to escape along a double line +of benches, thronged with boys of all ages, from the urchin of six or +seven to the nondescript of sixteen or seventeen. It was like +running the gauntlet; every one, great or small, pinching, kicking, +or otherwise maltreating me, as I passed by.<br> +<br> +Goaded on in this manner, I at length reached the middle of the room, +where dangled the bell-rope, the cause of all my sufferings. I +should have passed it - for my confusion was so great that I was quite +at a loss to comprehend what all this could mean, and almost believed +myself under the influence of an ugly dream - but now the boys, who +were seated in advance in the row, arose with one accord, and barred +my farther progress; and one, doubtless more sensible than the rest, +seizing the rope, thrust it into my hand. I now began to perceive +that the dismissal of the school, and my own release from torment, depended +upon this selfsame rope. I therefore, in a fit of desperation, +pulled it once or twice, and then left off, naturally supposing that +I had done quite enough. The boys who sat next the door no sooner +heard the bell, than, rising from their seats, they moved out at the +door. The bell, however, had no sooner ceased to jingle, than +they stopped short, and, turning round, stared at the master, as much +as to say, ‘What are we to do now?’ This was too much +for the patience of the man of method, which my previous stupidity had +already nearly exhausted. Dashing forward into the middle of the +room, he struck me violently on the shoulders with his ferule, and, +snatching the rope out of my hand, exclaimed, with a stentorian voice, +and genuine Yorkshire accent, ‘Prodigy of ignorance! dost not +even know how to ring a bell? Must I myself instruct thee?’ +He then commenced pulling at the bell with such violence that long before +half the school was dismissed the rope broke, and the rest of the boys +had to depart without their accustomed music.<br> +<br> +But I must not linger here, though I could say much about the school +and the pedagogue highly amusing and diverting, which, however, I suppress, +in order to make way for matters of yet greater interest. On we +went, northward, northward! and, as we advanced, I saw that the country +was becoming widely different from those parts of merry England in which +we had previously travelled. It was wilder, and less cultivated, +and more broken with hills and hillocks. The people, too, of these +regions appeared to partake of something of the character of their country. +They were coarsely dressed; tall and sturdy of frame; their voices were +deep and guttural; and the half of the dialect which they spoke was +unintelligible to my ears.<br> +<br> +I often wondered where we could be going, for I was at this time about +as ignorant of geography as I was of most other things. However, +I held my peace, asked no questions, and patiently awaited the issue.<br> +<br> +Northward, northward, still! And it came to pass that, one morning, +I found myself extended on the bank of a river. It was a beautiful +morning of early spring; small white clouds were floating in the heaven, +occasionally veiling the countenance of the sun, whose light, as they +retired, would again burst forth, coursing like a race-horse over the +scene - and a goodly scene it was! Before me, across the water, +on an eminence, stood a white old city, surrounded with lofty walls, +above which rose the tops of tall houses, with here and there a church +or steeple. To my right hand was a long and massive bridge, with +many arches, and of antique architecture, which traversed the river. +The river was a noble one; the broadest that I had hitherto seen. +Its waters, of a greenish tinge, poured with impetuosity beneath the +narrow arches to meet the sea, close at hand, as the boom of the billows +breaking distinctly upon a beach declared. There were songs upon +the river from the fisher-barks; and occasionally a chorus, plaintive +and wild, such as I had never heard before, the words of which I did +not understand, but which, at the present time, down the long avenue +of years, seem in memory’s ear to sound like ‘Horam, coram, +dago.’ Several robust fellows were near me, some knee-deep +in water, employed in hauling the seine upon the strand. Huge +fish were struggling amidst the meshes - princely salmon, - their brilliant +mail of blue and silver flashing in the morning beam; so goodly and +gay a scene, in truth, had never greeted my boyish eye.<br> +<br> +And, as I gazed upon the prospect, my bosom began to heave, and my tears +to trickle. Was it the beauty of the scene which gave rise to +these emotions? Possibly; for though a poor ignorant child - a +half-wild creature - I was not insensible to the loveliness of nature, +and took pleasure in the happiness and handiworks of my fellow-creatures. +Yet, perhaps, in something more deep and mysterious the feelings which +then pervaded me might originate. Who can lie down on Elvir Hill +without experiencing something of the sorcery of the place? Flee +from Elvir Hill, young swain, or the maids of Elle will have power over +you, and you will go elf-wild! - so say the Danes. I had unconsciously +laid myself down upon haunted ground; and I am willing to imagine that +what I then experienced was rather connected with the world of spirits +and dreams than with what I actually saw and heard around me. +Surely the elves and genii of the place were conversing, by some inscrutable +means, with the principle of intelligence lurking within the poor uncultivated +clod! Perhaps to that ethereal principle the wonders of the past, +as connected with that stream, the glories of the present, and even +the history of the future, were at that moment being revealed! +Of how many feats of chivalry had those old walls been witness, when +hostile kings contended for their possession! - how many an army from +the south and from the north had trod that old bridge! - what red and +noble blood had crimsoned those rushing waters!-what strains had been +sung, ay, were yet being sung, on its banks! - some soft as Doric reed; +some fierce and sharp as those of Norwegian Skaldaglam; some as replete +with wild and wizard force as Finland’s runes, singing of Kalevala’s +moors, and the deeds of Woinomoinen! Honour to thee, thou island +stream! Onward may thou ever roll, fresh and green, rejoicing +in thy bright past, thy glorious present, and in vivid hope of a triumphant +future! Flow on, beautiful one! - which of the world’s streams +canst thou envy, with thy beauty and renown? Stately is the Danube, +rolling in its might through lands romantic with the wild exploits of +Turk, Polak, and Magyar! Lovely is the Rhine! on its shelvy banks +grows the racy grape; and strange old keeps of robber-knights of yore +are reflected in its waters, from picturesque crags and airy headlands! +- yet neither the stately Danube nor the beauteous Rhine, with all their +fame, though abundant, needst thou envy, thou pure island stream! - +and far less yon turbid river of old, not modern renown, gurgling beneath +the walls of what was once proud Rome, towering Rome, Jupiter’s +town, but now vile Rome, crumbling Rome, Batuscha’s town, far +less needst thou envy the turbid Tiber of bygone fame, creeping sadly +to the sea, surcharged with the abominations of modern Rome - how unlike +to thee, thou pure island stream!<br> +<br> +And, as I lay on the bank and wept, there drew nigh to me a man in the +habiliments of a fisher. He was bare-legged, of a weather-beaten +countenance, and of stature approaching to the gigantic. ‘What +is the callant greeting for?’ said he, as he stopped and surveyed +me. ‘Has onybody wrought ye ony harm?’<br> +<br> +‘Not that I know of,’ I replied, rather guessing at than +understanding his question; ‘I was crying because I could not +help it! I say, old one, what is the name of this river?’<br> +<br> +‘Hout! I now see what you was greeting at - at your ain +ignorance, nae doubt - ’tis very great! Weel, I will na +fash you with reproaches, but even enlighten ye, since you seem a decent +man’s bairn, and you speir a civil question. Yon river is +called the Tweed; and yonder, over the brig, is Scotland. Did +ye never hear of the Tweed, my bonny man?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, as I rose from the grass, and proceeded to +cross the bridge to the town at which we had arrived the preceding night; +‘I never heard of it; but now I have seen it, I shall not soon +forget it!’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER VII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The Castle - A father’s inquiries - Scotch language - A determination +- Bui hin Digri - Good Scotchman - Difference of races - Ne’er +a haggis - Pugnacious people - Wha are ye, man? - The Nor Loch - Gestures +wild - The bicker - New Town champion - Wild-looking figure - Headlong.<br> +<br> +It was not long before we found ourselves at Edinburgh, or rather in +the Castle, into which the regiment marched with drums beating, colours +flying, and a long train of baggage-waggons behind. The Castle +was, as I suppose it is now, a garrison for soldiers. Two other +regiments were already there; the one an Irish, if I remember right, +the other a small Highland corps.<br> +<br> +It is hardly necessary to say much about this Castle, which everybody +has seen; on which account, doubtless, nobody has ever yet thought fit +to describe it - at least that I am aware. Be this as it may, +I have no intention of describing it, and shall content myself with +observing that we took up our abode in that immense building, or caserne, +of modern erection, which occupies the entire eastern side of the bold +rock on which the Castle stands. A gallant caserne it was - the +best and roomiest that I had hitherto seen - rather cold and windy, +it is true, especially in the winter, but commanding a noble prospect +of a range of distant hills, which I was told were ‘the hieland +hills,’ and of a broad arm of the sea, which I heard somebody +say was the Firth of Forth.<br> +<br> +My brother, who, for some years past, had been receiving his education +in a certain celebrated school in England, was now with us; and it came +to pass, that one day my father, as he sat at table, looked steadfastly +on my brother and myself, and then addressed my mother: - ‘During +my journey down hither, I have lost no opportunity of making inquiries +about these people, the Scotch, amongst whom we now are, and since I +have been here I have observed them attentively. From what I have +heard and seen, I should say that upon the whole they are a very decent +set of people; they seem acute and intelligent, and I am told that their +system of education is so excellent that every person is learned - more +or less acquainted with Greek and Latin. There is one thing, however, +connected with them, which is a great drawback - the horrid jargon which +they speak. However learned they may be in Greek and Latin, their +English is execrable; and yet I’m told it is not so bad as it +was. I was in company, the other day, with an Englishman who has +resided here many years. We were talking about the country and +the people. “I should like both very well,” said I, +“were it not for the language. I wish sincerely our Parliament, +which is passing so many foolish acts every year, would pass one to +force these Scotch to speak English.” “I wish so, +too,” said he. “The language is a disgrace to the +British Government; but, if you had heard it twenty years ago, captain! +- if you had heard it as it was spoken when I first came to Edinburgh!”’<br> +<br> +‘Only custom,’ said my mother. ‘I daresay the +language is now what it was then.’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t know,’ said my father; ‘though I daresay +you are right; it could never have been worse than it is at present. +But now to the point. Were it not for the language, which, if +the boys were to pick it up, might ruin their prospects in life, - were +it not for that, I should very much like to send them to a school there +is in this place, which everybody talks about - the High School I think +they call it. ’Tis said to be the best school in the whole +island; but the idea of one’s children speaking Scotch - broad +Scotch! I must think the matter over.’<br> +<br> +And he did think the matter over; and the result of his deliberation +was a determination to send us to the school. Let me call thee +up before my mind’s eye, High School, to which, every morning, +the two English brothers took their way from the proud old Castle through +the lofty streets of the Old Town. High School! - called so, I +scarcely know why; neither lofty in thyself nor by position, being situated +in a flat bottom; oblong structure of tawny stone, with many windows +fenced with iron netting - with thy long hall below, and thy five chambers +above, for the reception of the five classes, into which the eight hundred +urchins who styled thee instructress were divided. Thy learned +rector and his four subordinate dominies; thy strange old porter of +the tall form and grizzled hair, hight Boee, and doubtless of Norse +ancestry, as his name declares; perhaps of the blood of Bui hin Digri, +the hero of northern song - the Jomsborg Viking who clove Thorsteinn +Midlangr asunder in the dread sea battle of Horunga Vog, and who, when +the fight was lost and his own two hands smitten off, seized two chests +of gold with his bloody stumps, and, springing with them into the sea, +cried to the scanty relics of his crew, ‘Overboard now, all Bui’s +lads!’ Yes, I remember all about thee, and how at eight +of every morn we were all gathered together with one accord in the long +hall, from which, after the litanies had been read (for so I will call +them, being an Episcopalian), the five classes from the five sets of +benches trotted off in long files, one boy after the other, up the five +spiral staircases of stone, each class to its destination; and well +do I remember how we of the third sat hushed and still, watched by the +eye of the dux, until the door opened, and in walked that model of a +good Scotchman, the shrewd, intelligent, but warm-hearted and kind dominie, +the respectable Carson.<br> +<br> +And in this school I began to construe the Latin language, which I had +never done before, notwithstanding my long and diligent study of Lilly, +which illustrious grammar was not used at Edinburgh, nor indeed known. +Greek was only taught in the fifth or highest class, in which my brother +was; as for myself, I never got beyond the third during the two years +that I remained at this seminary. I certainly acquired here a +considerable insight in the Latin tongue; and, to the scandal of my +father and horror of my mother, a thorough proficiency in the Scotch, +which, in less than two months, usurped the place of the English, and +so obstinately maintained its ground, that I still can occasionally +detect its lingering remains. I did not spend my time unpleasantly +at this school, though, first of all, I had to pass through an ordeal.<br> +<br> +‘Scotland is a better country than England,’ said an ugly, +blear-eyed lad, about a head and shoulders taller than myself, the leader +of a gang of varlets who surrounded me in the playground, on the first +day, as soon as the morning lesson was over. ‘Scotland is +a far better country than England, in every respect.’<br> +<br> +‘Is it?’ said I. ‘Then you ought to be very +thankful for not having been born in England.’<br> +<br> +‘That’s just what I am, ye loon; and every morning, when +I say my prayers, I thank God for not being an Englishman. The +Scotch are a much better and braver people than the English.’<br> +<br> +‘It may be so,’ said I, ‘for what I know - indeed, +till I came here, I never heard a word either about the Scotch or their +country.’<br> +<br> +‘Are ye making fun of us, ye English puppy?’ said the blear-eyed +lad; ‘take that!’ and I was presently beaten black and blue. +And thus did I first become aware of the difference of races and their +antipathy to each other.<br> +<br> +‘Bow to the storm, and it shall pass over you.’ I +held my peace, and silently submitted to the superiority of the Scotch +- <i>in numbers</i>. This was enough; from an object of persecution +I soon became one of patronage, especially amongst the champions of +the class. ‘The English,’ said the blear-eyed lad, +‘though a wee bit behind the Scotch in strength and fortitude, +are nae to be sneezed at, being far ahead of the Irish, to say nothing +of the French, a pack of cowardly scoundrels. And with regard +to the English country, it is na Scotland, it is true, but it has its +gude properties; and, though there is ne’er a haggis in a’ +the land, there’s an unco deal o’ gowd and siller. +I respect England, for I have an auntie married there.’<br> +<br> +The Scotch are certainly a most pugnacious people; their whole history +proves it. Witness their incessant wars with the English in the +olden time, and their internal feuds, highland and lowland, clan with +clan, family with family, Saxon with Gael. In my time, the schoolboys, +for want, perhaps, of English urchins to contend with, were continually +fighting with each other; every noon there was at least one pugilistic +encounter, and sometimes three. In one month I witnessed more +of these encounters than I had ever previously seen under similar circumstances +in England. After all, there was not much harm done. Harm! +what harm could result from short chopping blows, a hug, and a tumble? +I was witness to many a sounding whack, some blood shed, ‘a blue +ee’ now and then, but nothing more. In England, on the contrary, +where the lads were comparatively mild, gentle, and pacific, I had been +present at more than one death caused by blows in boyish combats, in +which the oldest of the victors had scarcely reached thirteen years; +but these blows were in the jugular, given with the full force of the +arm shot out horizontally from the shoulder.<br> +<br> +But the Scotch - though by no means proficients in boxing (and how should +they box, seeing that they have never had a teacher?) - are, I repeat, +a most pugnacious people; at least they were in my time. Anything +served them, that is, the urchins, as a pretence for a fray, or, Dorically +speaking, a <i>bicker</i>; every street and close was at feud with its +neighbour; the lads of the school were at feud with the young men of +the college, whom they pelted in winter with snow, and in summer with +stones; and then the feud between the old and new town!<br> +<br> +One day I was standing on the ramparts of the Castle on the south-western +side which overhangs the green brae, where it slopes down into what +was in those days the green swamp or morass, called by the natives of +Auld Reekie the Nor Loch; it was a dark gloomy day, and a thin veil +of mist was beginning to settle down upon the brae and the morass. +I could perceive, however, that there was a skirmish taking place in +the latter spot. I had an indistinct view of two parties - apparently +of urchins - and I heard whoops and shrill cries: eager to know the +cause of this disturbance, I left the Castle, and descending the brae +reached the borders of the morass, where were a runnel of water and +the remains of an old wall, on the other side of which a narrow path +led across the swamp: upon this path at a little distance before me +there was ‘a bicker.’ I pushed forward, but had scarcely +crossed the ruined wall and runnel, when the party nearest to me gave +way, and in great confusion came running in my direction. As they +drew nigh, one of them shouted to me, ‘Wha are ye, man? are ye +o’ the Auld Toon?’ I made no answer. ‘Ha! +ye are o’ the New Toon; De’il tak ye, we’ll moorder +ye’; and the next moment a huge stone sung past my head. +‘Let me be, ye fule bodies,’ said I, ‘I’m no +of either of ye, I live yonder aboon in the Castle.’ ‘Ah! +ye live in the Castle; then ye’re an auld tooner; come gie us +your help, man, and dinna stand there staring like a dunnot, we want +help sair eneugh. Here are stanes.’<br> +<br> +For my own part I wished for nothing better, and, rushing forward, I +placed myself at the head of my new associates, and commenced flinging +stones fast and desperately. The other party now gave way in their +turn, closely followed by ourselves; I was in the van, and about to +stretch out my hand to seize the hindermost boy of the enemy, when, +not being acquainted with the miry and difficult paths of the Nor Loch, +and in my eagerness taking no heed of my footing, I plunged into a quagmire, +into which I sank as far as my shoulders. Our adversaries no sooner +perceived this disaster, than, setting up a shout, they wheeled round +and attacked us most vehemently. Had my comrades now deserted +me, my life had not been worth a straw’s purchase, I should either +have been smothered in the quag, or, what is more probable, had my brains +beaten out with stones; but they behaved like true Scots, and fought +stoutly around their comrade, until I was extricated, whereupon both +parties retired, the night being near at hand.<br> +<br> +‘Ye are na a bad hand at flinging stanes,’ said the lad +who first addressed me, as we now returned up the brae; ‘your +aim is right dangerous, mon, I saw how ye skelpit them, ye maun help +us agin thae New Toon blackguards at our next bicker.’<br> +<br> +So to the next bicker I went, and to many more, which speedily followed +as the summer advanced; the party to which I had given my help on the +first occasion consisted merely of outlyers, posted about half-way up +the hill, for the purpose of overlooking the movements of the enemy.<br> +<br> +Did the latter draw nigh in any considerable force, messengers were +forthwith despatched to the ‘Auld Toon,’ especially to the +filthy alleys and closes of the High Street, which forthwith would disgorge +swarms of bare-headed and bare-footed ‘callants,’ who, with +gestures wild and ‘eldrich screech and hollo,’ might frequently +be seen pouring down the sides of the hill. I have seen upwards +of a thousand engaged on either side in these frays, which I have no +doubt were full as desperate as the fights described in the <i>Iliad</i>, +and which were certainly much more bloody than the combats of modern +Greece in the war of independence: the callants not only employed their +hands in hurling stones, but not unfrequently slings; at the use of +which they were very expert, and which occasionally dislodged teeth, +shattered jaws, or knocked out an eye. Our opponents certainly +laboured under considerable disadvantage, being compelled not only to +wade across a deceitful bog, but likewise to clamber up part of a steep +hill, before they could attack us; nevertheless, their determination +was such, and such their impetuosity, that we had sometimes difficulty +enough to maintain our own. I shall never forget one bicker, the +last indeed which occurred at that time, as the authorities of the town, +alarmed by the desperation of its character, stationed forthwith a body +of police on the hill-side, to prevent, in future, any such breaches +of the peace.<br> +<br> +It was a beautiful Sunday evening, the rays of the descending sun were +reflected redly from the gray walls of the Castle, and from the black +rocks on which it was founded. The bicker had long since commenced, +stones from sling and hand were flying; but the callants of the New +Town were now carrying everything before them.<br> +<br> +A full-grown baker’s apprentice was at their head; he was foaming +with rage, and had taken the field, as I was told, in order to avenge +his brother, whose eye had been knocked out in one of the late bickers. +He was no slinger or flinger, but brandished in his right hand the spoke +of a cart-wheel, like my countryman Tom Hickathrift of old in his encounter +with the giant of the Lincolnshire fen. Protected by a piece of +wicker-work attached to his left arm, he rushed on to the fray, disregarding +the stones which were showered against him, and was ably seconded by +his followers. Our own party was chased half-way up the hill, +where I was struck to the ground by the baker, after having been foiled +in an attempt which I had made to fling a handful of earth into his +eyes. All now appeared lost, the Auld Toon was in full retreat. +I myself lay at the baker’s feet, who had just raised his spoke, +probably to give me the <i>coup de grace</i>, - it was an awful moment. +Just then I heard a shout and a rushing sound; a wild-looking figure +is descending the hill with terrible bounds; it is a lad of some fifteen +years; he is bare-headed, and his red uncombed hair stands on end like +hedgehogs’ bristles: his frame is lithy, like that of an antelope, +but he has prodigious breadth of chest; he wears a military undress, +that of the regiment, even of a drummer, for it is wild Davy, whom a +month before I had seen enlisted on Leith Links to serve King George +with drum and drumstick as long as his services might be required, and +who, ere a week had elapsed, had smitten with his fist Drum-Major Elzigood, +who, incensed at his inaptitude, had threatened him with his cane; he +has been in confinement for weeks, this is the first day of his liberation, +and he is now descending the hill with horrid bounds and shoutings; +he is now about five yards distant, and the baker, who apprehends that +something dangerous is at hand, prepares himself for the encounter; +but what avails the strength of a baker, even full grown? - what avails +the defence of a wicker shield? - what avails the wheel-spoke, should +there be an opportunity of using it, against the impetus of an avalanche +or a cannon-ball? - for to either of these might that wild figure be +compared, which, at the distance of five yards, sprang at once with +head, hands, feet and body, all together, upon the champion of the New +Town, tumbling him to the earth amain. And now it was the turn +of the Old Town to triumph. Our late discomfited host, returning +on its steps, overwhelmed the fallen champion with blows of every kind, +and then, led on by his vanquisher, who had assumed his arms, namely, +the wheel-spoke and wicker shield, fairly cleared the brae of their +adversaries, whom they drove down headlong into the morass.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER VIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Expert climbers - The crags - Something red - The horrible edge - David +Haggart - Fine materials - The greatest victory - Extraordinary robber +- The ruling passion.<br> +<br> +Meanwhile I had become a daring cragsman, a character to which an English +lad has seldom opportunities of aspiring; for in England there are neither +crags nor mountains. Of these, however, as is well known, there +is no lack in Scotland, and the habits of individuals are invariably +in harmony with the country in which they dwell. The Scotch are +expert climbers, and I was now a Scot in most things, particularly in +language. The Castle in which I dwelt stood upon a rock, a bold +and craggy one, which, at first sight, would seem to bid defiance to +any feet save those of goats and chamois; but patience and perseverance +generally enable mankind to overcome things which, at first sight, appear +impossible. Indeed, what is there above man’s exertions? +Unwearied determination will enable him to run with the horse, to swim +with the fish, and assuredly to compete with the chamois and the goat +in agility and sureness of foot. To scale the rock was merely +child’s play for the Edinbro’ callants. It was my +own favourite diversion. I soon found that the rock contained +all manner of strange crypts, crannies, and recesses, where owls nestled, +and the weasel brought forth her young; here and there were small natural +platforms, overgrown with long grass and various kinds of plants, where +the climber, if so disposed, could stretch himself, and either give +his eyes to sleep or his mind to thought; for capital places were these +same platforms either for repose or meditation. The boldest features +of the rock are descried on the northern side, where, after shelving +down gently from the wall for some distance, it terminates abruptly +in a precipice, black and horrible, of some three hundred feet at least, +as if the axe of nature had been here employed cutting sheer down, and +leaving behind neither excrescence nor spur - a dizzy precipice it is, +assimilating much to those so frequent in the flinty hills of Northern +Africa, and exhibiting some distant resemblance to that of Gibraltar, +towering in its horridness above the Neutral Ground.<br> +<br> +It was now holiday time, and having nothing particular wherewith to +occupy myself, I not unfrequently passed the greater part of the day +upon the rocks. Once, after scaling the western crags, and creeping +round a sharp angle of the wall, overhung by a kind of watch-tower, +I found myself on the northern side. Still keeping close to the +wall, I was proceeding onward, for I was bent upon a long excursion +which should embrace half the circuit of the Castle, when suddenly my +eye was attracted by the appearance of something red, far below me; +I stopped short, and, looking fixedly upon it, perceived that it was +a human being in a kind of red jacket, seated on the extreme verge of +the precipice which I have already made a faint attempt to describe. +Wondering who it could be, I shouted; but it took not the slightest +notice, remaining as immovable as the rock on which it sat. ‘I +should never have thought of going near that edge,’ said I to +myself; ‘however, as you have done it, why should not I? +And I should like to know who you are.’ So I commenced the +descent of the rock, but with great care, for I had as yet never been +in a situation so dangerous; a slight moisture exuded from the palms +of my hands, my nerves were tingling, and my brain was somewhat dizzy +- and now I had arrived within a few yards of the figure, and had recognised +it: it was the wild drummer who had turned the tide of battle in the +bicker on the Castle Brae. A small stone which I dislodged now +rolled down the rock, and tumbled into the abyss close beside him. +He turned his head, and after looking at me for a moment somewhat vacantly, +he resumed his former attitude. I drew yet nearer to the horrible +edge not close, however, for fear was on me.<br> +<br> +‘What are you thinking of, David?’ said I, as I sat behind +him and trembled, for I repeat that I was afraid.<br> +<br> +<i>David Haggart</i>. I was thinking of Willie Wallace.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. You had better be thinking of yourself, man. +A strange place this to come to and think of William Wallace.<br> +<br> +<i>David Haggart</i>. Why so? Is not his tower just beneath +our feet?<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. You mean the auld ruin by the side of the Nor Loch +- the ugly stane bulk, from the foot of which flows the spring into +the dyke where the watercresses grow?<br> +<br> +<i>David Haggart</i>. Just sae, Geordie.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. And why were ye thinking of him? The English +hanged him long since, as I have heard say.<br> +<br> +<i>David Haggart</i>. I was thinking that I should wish to be +like him.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Do ye mean that ye would wish to be hanged?<br> +<br> +<i>David Haggart</i>. I wadna flinch from that, Geordie, if I +might be a great man first.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. And wha kens, Davie, how great you may be, even +without hanging? Are ye not in the high road of preferment? +Are ye not a bauld drummer already? Wha kens how high ye may rise? +perhaps to be general, or drum-major.<br> +<br> +<i>David Haggart</i>. I hae nae wish to be drum-major; it were +nae great things to be like the doited carle, Else-than-gude, as they +call him; and, troth, he has nae his name for naething. But I +should have nae objection to be a general, and to fight the French and +Americans, and win myself a name and a fame like Willie Wallace, and +do brave deeds, such as I have been reading about in his story book.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Ye are a fule, Davie; the story book is full of +lies. Wallace, indeed! the wuddie rebel! I have heard my +father say that the Duke of Cumberland was worth twenty of Willie Wallace.<br> +<br> +<i>David Haggart</i>. Ye had better sae naething agin Willie Wallace, +Geordie, for, if ye do, De’il hae me, if I dinna tumble ye doon +the craig.<br> +<br> +Fine materials in that lad for a hero, you will say. Yes, indeed, +for a hero, or for what he afterwards became. In other times, +and under other circumstances, he might have made what is generally +termed a great man, a patriot, or a conqueror. As it was, the +very qualities which might then have pushed him on to fortune and renown +were the cause of his ruin. The war over, he fell into evil courses; +for his wild heart and ambitious spirit could not brook the sober and +quiet pursuits of honest industry.<br> +<br> +‘Can an Arabian steed submit to be a vile drudge?’ I cries +the fatalist. Nonsense! A man is not an irrational creature, +but a reasoning being, and has something within him beyond mere brutal +instinct. The greatest victory which a man can achieve is over +himself, by which is meant those unruly passions which are not convenient +to the time and place. David did not do this; he gave the reins +to his wild heart, instead of curbing it, and became a robber, and, +alas! alas! he shed blood - under peculiar circumstances, it is true, +and without <i>malice prepense</i> - and for that blood he eventually +died, and justly; for it was that of the warden of a prison from which +he was escaping, and whom he slew with one blow of his stalwart arm.<br> +<br> +Tamerlane and Haggart! Haggart and Tamerlane! Both these +men were robbers, and of low birth, yet one perished on an ignoble scaffold, +and the other died emperor of the world. Is this justice? +The ends of the two men were widely dissimilar - yet what is the intrinsic +difference between them? Very great indeed; the one acted according +to his lights and his country, not so the other. Tamerlane was +a heathen, and acted according to his lights; he was a robber where +all around were robbers, but he became the avenger of God - God’s +scourge on unjust kings, on the cruel Bajazet, who had plucked out his +own brothers’ eyes; he became to a certain extent the purifier +of the East, its regenerator; his equal never was before, nor has it +since been seen. Here the wild heart was profitably employed, +the wild strength, the teeming brain. Onward, Lame one! +Onward, Tamur - lank! Haggart . . . .<br> +<br> +But peace to thee, poor David! why should a mortal worm be sitting in +judgment over thee? The Mighty and Just One has already judged +thee, and perhaps above thou hast received pardon for thy crimes, which +could not be pardoned here below; and now that thy feverish existence +has closed, and thy once active form become inanimate dust, thy very +memory all but forgotten, I will say a few words about thee, a few words +soon also to be forgotten. Thou wast the most extraordinary robber +that ever lived within the belt of Britain; Scotland rang with thy exploits, +and England, too, north of the Humber; strange deeds also didst thou +achieve when, fleeing from justice, thou didst find thyself in the Sister +Isle; busy wast thou there in town and on curragh, at fair and race-course, +and also in the solitary place. Ireland thought thee her child, +for who spoke her brogue better than thyself? - she felt proud of thee, +and said, ‘Sure, O’Hanlon is come again.’ What +might not have been thy fate in the far west in America, whither thou +hadst turned thine eye, saying, ‘I will go there, and become an +honest man!’ But thou wast not to go there, David - the +blood which thou hadst shed in Scotland was to be required of thee; +the avenger was at hand, the avenger of blood. Seized, manacled, +brought back to thy native land, condemned to die, thou wast left in +thy narrow cell, and told to make the most of thy time, for it was short: +and there, in thy narrow cell, and thy time so short, thou didst put +the crowning stone to thy strange deeds, by that strange history of +thyself, penned by thy own hand in the robber tongue. Thou mightest +have been better employed, David! - but the ruling passion was strong +with thee, even in the jaws of death. Thou mightest have been +better employed! - but peace be with thee, I repeat, and the Almighty’s +grace and pardon.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER IX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Napoleon - The storm - The cove - Up the country - The trembling hand +- Irish - Tough battle - Tipperary hills - Elegant lodgings - A speech +- Fair specimen - Orangemen.<br> +<br> +Onward, onward! and after we had sojourned in Scotland nearly two years, +the long continental war had been brought to an end, Napoleon was humbled +for a time, and the Bourbons restored to a land which could well have +dispensed with them; we returned to England, where the corps was disbanded, +and my parents with their family retired to private life. I shall +pass over in silence the events of a year, which offer little of interest +as far as connected with me and mine. Suddenly, however, the sound +of war was heard again, Napoleon had broken forth from Elba, and everything +was in confusion. Vast military preparations were again made, +our own corps was levied anew, and my brother became an officer in it; +but the danger was soon over, Napoleon was once more quelled, and chained +for ever, like Prometheus, to his rock. As the corps, however, +though so recently levied, had already become a very fine one, thanks +to my father’s energetic drilling, the Government very properly +determined to turn it to some account, and, as disturbances were apprehended +in Ireland about this period, it occurred to them that they could do +no better than despatch it to that country.<br> +<br> +In the autumn of the year 1815 we set sail from a port in Essex; we +were some eight hundred strong, and were embarked in two ships, very +large, but old and crazy; a storm overtook us when off Beachy Head, +in which we had nearly foundered. I was awakened early in the +morning by the howling of the wind and the uproar on deck. I kept +myself close, however, as is still my constant practice on similar occasions, +and waited the result with that apathy and indifference which violent +sea-sickness is sure to produce. We shipped several seas, and +once the vessel missing stays - which, to do it justice, it generally +did at every third or fourth tack - we escaped almost by a miracle from +being dashed upon the foreland. On the eighth day of our voyage +we were in sight of Ireland. The weather was now calm and serene, +the sun shone brightly on the sea and on certain green hills in the +distance, on which I descried what at first sight I believed to be two +ladies gathering flowers, which, however, on our nearer approach, proved +to be two tall white towers, doubtless built for some purpose or other, +though I did not learn for what.<br> +<br> +We entered a kind of bay, or cove, by a narrow inlet; it was a beautiful +and romantic place this cove, very spacious, and, being nearly land-locked, +was sheltered from every wind. A small island, every inch of which +was covered with fortifications, appeared to swim upon the waters, whose +dark blue denoted their immense depth; tall green hills, which ascended +gradually from the shore, formed the background to the west; they were +carpeted to the top with turf of the most vivid green, and studded here +and there with woods, seemingly of oak; there was a strange old castle +half-way up the ascent, a village on a crag - but the mists of morning +were half veiling the scene when I surveyed it, and the mists of time +are now hanging densely between it and my no longer youthful eye; I +may not describe it; - nor will I try.<br> +<br> +Leaving the ship in the cove, we passed up a wide river in boats till +we came to a city, where we disembarked. It was a large city, +as large as Edinburgh to my eyes; there were plenty of fine houses, +but little neatness; the streets were full of impurities; handsome equipages +rolled along, but the greater part of the population were in rags; beggars +abounded; there was no lack of merriment, however; boisterous shouts +of laughter were heard on every side. It appeared a city of contradictions. +After a few days’ rest we marched from this place in two divisions. +My father commanded the second, I walked by his side.<br> +<br> +Our route lay up the country; the country at first offered no very remarkable +feature, it was pretty, but tame. On the second day, however, +its appearance had altered, it had become more wild; a range of distant +mountains bounded the horizon. We passed through several villages, +as I suppose I may term them, of low huts, the walls formed of rough +stones without mortar, the roof of flags laid over wattles and wicker-work; +they seemed to be inhabited solely by women and children; the latter +were naked, the former, in general, blear-eyed beldames, who sat beside +the doors on low stools, spinning. We saw, however, both men and +women working at a distance in the fields.<br> +<br> +I was thirsty; and going up to an ancient crone, employed in the manner +which I have described, I asked her for water; she looked me in the +face, appeared to consider a moment, then tottering into her hut, presently +reappeared with a small pipkin of milk, which she offered to me with +a trembling hand. I drank the milk; it was sour, but I found it +highly refreshing. I then took out a penny and offered it to her, +whereupon she shook her head, smiled, and, patting my face with her +skinny hand, murmured some words in a tongue which I had never heard +before.<br> +<br> +I walked on by my father’s side, holding the stirrup-leather of +his horse; presently several low uncouth cars passed by, drawn by starved +cattle: the drivers were tall fellows, with dark features and athletic +frames - they wore long loose blue cloaks with sleeves, which last, +however, dangled unoccupied: these cloaks appeared in tolerably good +condition, not so their under garments. On their heads were broad +slouching hats: the generality of them were bare-footed. As they +passed, the soldiers jested with them in the patois of East Anglia, +whereupon the fellows laughed, and appeared to jest with the soldiers; +but what they said who knows, it being in a rough guttural language, +strange and wild. The soldiers stared at each other, and were +silent.<br> +<br> +‘A strange language that!’ said a young officer to my father, +‘I don’t understand a word of it; what can it be?’<br> +<br> +‘Irish!’ said my father, with a loud voice, ‘and a +bad language it is, I have known it of old, that is, I have often heard +it spoken when I was a guardsman in London. There’s one +part of London where all the Irish live - at least all the worst of +them - and there they hatch their villainies and speak this tongue; +it is that which keeps them together and makes them dangerous: I was +once sent there to seize a couple of deserters - Irish - who had taken +refuge amongst their companions; we found them in what was in my time +called a ken, that is a house where only thieves and desperadoes are +to be found. Knowing on what kind of business I was bound, I had +taken with me a sergeant’s party; it was well I did so. +We found the deserters in a large room, with at least thirty ruffians, +horrid-looking fellows, seated about a long table, drinking, swearing, +and talking Irish. Ah! we had a tough battle, I remember; the +two fellows did nothing, but sat still, thinking it best to be quiet; +but the rest, with an ubbubboo like the blowing up of a powder-magazine, +sprang up, brandishing their sticks; for these fellows always carry +sticks with them even to bed, and not unfrequently spring up in their +sleep, striking left and right.’<br> +<br> +‘And did you take the deserters?’ said the officer.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said my father; ‘for we formed at the end of +the room, and charged with fixed bayonets, which compelled the others +to yield notwithstanding their numbers; but the worst was when we got +out into the street; the whole district had become alarmed, and hundreds +came pouring down upon us - men, women, and children. Women, did +I say! - they looked fiends, half naked, with their hair hanging down +over their bosoms; they tore up the very pavement to hurl at us, sticks +rang about our ears, stones, and Irish - I liked the Irish worst of +all, it sounded so horrid, especially as I did not understand it. +It’s a bad language.’<br> +<br> +‘A queer tongue,’ said I; ‘I wonder if I could learn +it.’<br> +<br> +‘Learn it!’ said my father; ‘what should you learn +it for? - however, I am not afraid of that. It is not like Scotch, +no person can learn it, save those who are born to it, and even in Ireland +the respectable people do not speak it, only the wilder sort, like those +we have passed.’<br> +<br> +Within a day or two we had reached a tall range of mountains running +north and south, which I was told were those of Tipperary; along the +skirts of these we proceeded till we came to a town, the principal one +of these regions. It was on the bank of a beautiful river, which +separated it from the mountains. It was rather an ancient place, +and might contain some ten thousand inhabitants - I found that it was +our destination; there were extensive barracks at the farther end, in +which the corps took up its quarters; with respect to ourselves, we +took lodgings in a house which stood in the principal street.<br> +<br> +‘You never saw more elegant lodgings than these, captain,’ +said the master of the house, a tall, handsome, and athletic man, who +came up whilst our little family were seated at dinner late in the afternoon +of the day of our arrival; ‘they beat anything in this town of +Clonmel. I do not let them for the sake of interest, and to none +but gentlemen in the army, in order that myself and my wife, who is +from Londonderry, may have the advantage of pleasant company, genteel +company; ay, and Protestant company, captain. It did my heart +good when I saw your honour ride in at the head of all those fine fellows, +real Protestants, I’ll engage, not a Papist among them, they are +too good-looking and honest-looking for that. So I no sooner saw +your honour at the head of your army, with that handsome young gentleman +holding by your stirrup, than I said to my wife, Mistress Hyne, who +is from Londonderry, “God bless me,” said I, “what +a truly Protestant countenance, what a noble bearing, and what a sweet +young gentleman. By the silver hairs of his honour” - and +sure enough I never saw hairs more regally silver than those of your +honour - “by his honour’s gray silver hairs, and by my own +soul, which is not worthy to be mentioned in the same day with one of +them - it would be no more than decent and civil to run out and welcome +such a father and son coming in at the head of such a Protestant military.” +And then my wife, who is from Londonderry, Mistress Hyne, looking me +in the face like a fairy as she is, “You may say that,” +says she. “It would be but decent and civil, honey.” +And your honour knows how I ran out of my own door and welcomed your +honour riding in company with your son, who was walking; how I welcomed +ye both at the head of your royal regiment, and how I shook your honour +by the hand, saying, I am glad to see your honour, and your honour’s +son, and your honour’s royal military Protestant regiment. +And now I have you in the house, and right proud I am to have ye one +and all; one, two, three, four, true Protestants every one, no Papists +here; and I have made bold to bring up a bottle of claret which is now +waiting behind the door; and, when your honour and your family have +dined, I will make bold too to bring up Mistress Hyne, from Londonderry, +to introduce to your honour’s lady, and then we’ll drink +to the health of King George, God bless him; to the “glorious +and immortal” - to Boyne water - to your honour’s speedy +promotion to be Lord Lieutenant, and to the speedy downfall of the Pope +and Saint Anthony of Padua.’<br> +<br> +Such was the speech of the Irish Protestant addressed to my father in +the long lofty dining-room with three windows, looking upon the high +street of the good town of Clonmel, as he sat at meat with his family, +after saying grace like a true-hearted respectable soldier as he was.<br> +<br> +‘A bigot and an Orangeman!’ Oh yes! It is easier +to apply epithets of opprobrium to people than to make yourself acquainted +with their history and position. He was a specimen, and a fair +specimen, of a most remarkable body of men, who during two centuries +have fought a good fight in Ireland in the cause of civilisation and +religious truth; they were sent as colonists, few in number, into a +barbarous and unhappy country, where ever since, though surrounded with +difficulties of every kind, they have maintained their ground; theirs +has been no easy life, nor have their lines fallen upon very pleasant +places; amidst darkness they have held up a lamp, and it would be well +for Ireland were all her children like these her adopted ones. +‘But they are fierce and sanguinary,’ it is said. +Ay, ay! they have not unfrequently opposed the keen sword to the savage +pike. ‘But they are bigoted and narrow-minded.’ +Ay, ay! they do not like idolatry, and will not bow the knee before +a stone! ‘But their language is frequently indecorous.’ +Go to, my dainty one, did ye ever listen to the voice of Papist cursing?<br> +<br> +The Irish Protestants have faults, numerous ones; but the greater number +of these may be traced to the peculiar circumstances of their position: +but they have virtues, numerous ones; and their virtues are their own, +their industry, their energy, and their undaunted resolution are their +own. They have been vilified and traduced - but what would Ireland +be without them? I repeat, that it would be well for her were +all her sons no worse than these much-calumniated children of her adoption.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER X<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Protestant young gentlemen - The Greek letters - Open chimney - Murtagh +- Paris and Salamanca - Nothing to do - To whit, to whoo! - The pack +of cards - Before Christmas.<br> +<br> +We continued at this place for some months, during which time the soldiers +performed their duties, whatever they were; and I, having no duties +to perform, was sent to school. I had been to English schools, +and to the celebrated one of Edinburgh; but my education, at the present +day, would not be what it is - perfect, had I never had the honour of +being <i>alumnus</i> in an Irish seminary.<br> +<br> +‘Captain,’ said our kind host, ‘you would, no doubt, +wish that the young gentleman should enjoy every advantage which the +town may afford towards helping him on in the path of genteel learning. +It’s a great pity that he should waste his time in idleness - +doing nothing else than what he says he has been doing for the last +fortnight - fishing in the river for trouts which he never catches; +and wandering up the glen in the mountain, in search of the hips that +grow there. Now, we have a school here, where he can learn the +most elegant Latin, and get an insight into the Greek letters, which +is desirable; and where, moreover, he will have an opportunity of making +acquaintance with all the Protestant young gentlemen of the place, the +handsome well-dressed young persons whom your honour sees in the church +on the Sundays, when your honour goes there in the morning, with the +rest of the Protestant military; for it is no Papist school, though +there may be a Papist or two there - a few poor farmers’ sons +from the country, with whom there is no necessity for your honour’s +child to form any acquaintance at all, at all!’<br> +<br> +And to the school I went, where I read the Latin tongue and the Greek +letters, with a nice old clergyman, who sat behind a black oaken desk, +with a huge Elzevir Flaccus before him, in a long gloomy kind of hall, +with a broken stone floor, the roof festooned with cobwebs, the walls +considerably dilapidated, and covered over with strange figures and +hieroglyphics, evidently produced by the application of burnt stick; +and there I made acquaintance with the Protestant young gentlemen of +the place, who, with whatever <i>éclat</i> they might appear +at church on a Sunday, did assuredly not exhibit to much advantage in +the schoolroom on the week days, either with respect to clothes or looks. +And there I was in the habit of sitting on a large stone, before the +roaring fire in the huge open chimney, and entertaining certain of the +Protestant young gentlemen of my own age, seated on similar stones, +with extraordinary accounts of my own adventures, and those of the corps, +with an occasional anecdote extracted from the story-books of Hickathrift +and Wight Wallace, pretending to be conning the lesson all the while.<br> +<br> +And there I made acquaintance, notwithstanding the hint of the landlord, +with the Papist ‘gossoons,’ as they were called, the farmers’ +sons from the country; and of these gossoons, of whom there were three, +two might be reckoned as nothing at all; in the third, however, I soon +discovered that there was something extraordinary.<br> +<br> +He was about sixteen years old, and above six feet high, dressed in +a gray suit; the coat, from its size, appeared to have been made for +him some ten years before. He was remarkably narrow-chested and +round-shouldered, owing, perhaps as much to the tightness of his garment +as to the hand of nature. His face was long, and his complexion +swarthy, relieved, however, by certain freckles, with which the skin +was plentifully studded. He had strange wandering eyes, gray, +and somewhat unequal in size; they seldom rested on the book, but were +generally wandering about the room, from one object to another. +Sometimes he would fix them intently on the wall, and then suddenly +starting, as if from a reverie, he would commence making certain mysterious +movements with his thumbs and forefingers, as if he were shuffling something +from him.<br> +<br> +One morning, as he sat by himself on a bench, engaged in this manner, +I went up to him, and said, ‘Good-day, Murtagh; you do not seem +to have much to do?’<br> +<br> +‘Faith, you may say that, Shorsha dear! - it is seldom much to +do that I have.’<br> +<br> +‘And what are you doing with your hands?’<br> +<br> +‘Faith, then, if I must tell you, I was e’en dealing with +the cards.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you play much at cards?’<br> +<br> +‘Sorra a game, Shorsha, have I played with the cards since my +uncle Phelim, the thief, stole away the ould pack, when he went to settle +in the county Waterford!’<br> +<br> +‘But you have other things to do?’<br> +<br> +‘Sorra anything else has Murtagh to do that he cares about and +that makes me dread so going home at nights.’<br> +<br> +‘I should like to know all about you; where do you live, joy?’<br> +<br> +‘Faith, then, ye shall know all about me, and where I live. +It is at a place called the Wilderness that I live, and they call it +so, because it is a fearful wild place, without any house near it but +my father’s own; and that’s where I live when at home.’<br> +<br> +‘And your father is a farmer, I suppose?’<br> +<br> +‘You may say that; and it is a farmer I should have been, like +my brother Denis, had not my uncle Phelim, the thief, tould my father +to send me to school, to learn Greek letters, that I might be made a +saggart of, and sent to Paris and Salamanca.’<br> +<br> +‘And you would rather be a farmer than a priest?’<br> +<br> +‘You may say that! - for, were I a farmer, like the rest, I should +have something to do, like the rest - something that I cared for - and +I should come home tired at night, and fall asleep, as the rest do, +before the fire; but when I comes home at night I am not tired, for +I have been doing nothing all day that I care for; and then I sits down +and stares about me, and at the fire, till I become frighted; and then +I shouts to my brother Denis, or to the gossoons, “Get up, I say, +and let’s be doing something; tell us the tale of Finn-ma-Coul, +and how he lay down in the Shannon’s bed, and let the river flow +down his jaws!” Arrah, Shorsha! I wish you would come +and stay with us, and tell us some o’ your sweet stories of your +own self and the snake ye carried about wid ye. Faith, Shorsha +dear! that snake bates anything about Finn-ma-Coul or Brian Boroo, the +thieves two, bad luck to them!’<br> +<br> +‘And do they get up and tell you stories?’<br> +<br> +‘Sometimes they does, but oftenmost they curses me, and bids me +be quiet! But I can’t be quiet, either before the fire or +abed; so I runs out of the house, and stares at the rocks, at the trees, +and sometimes at the clouds, as they run a race across the bright moon; +and, the more I stares, the more frighted I grows, till I screeches +and holloas. And last night I went into the barn, and hid my face +in the straw; and there, as I lay and shivered in the straw, I heard +a voice above my head singing out “To whit, to whoo!” and +then up I starts, and runs into the house, and falls over my brother +Denis, as he lies at the fire. “What’s that for?” +says he. “Get up, you thief!” says I, “and be +helping me. I have been out into the barn, and an owl has crow’d +at me!”’<br> +<br> +‘And what has this to do with playing cards?’<br> +<br> +‘Little enough, Shorsha dear! - If there were card-playing, I +should not be frighted.’<br> +<br> +‘And why do you not play at cards?’<br> +<br> +‘Did I not tell you that the thief, my uncle Phelim, stole away +the pack? If we had the pack, my brother Denis and the gossoons +would be ready enough to get up from their sleep before the fire, and +play cards with me for ha’pence, or eggs, or nothing at all; but +the pack is gone - bad luck to the thief who took it!’<br> +<br> +‘And why don’t you buy another?’<br> +<br> +‘Is it of buying you are speaking? And where am I to get +the money?’<br> +<br> +‘Ah! that’s another thing!’<br> +<br> +‘Faith it is, honey! - And now the Christmas holidays is coming, +when I shall be at home by day as well as night, and then what am I +to do? Since I have been a saggarting, I have been good for nothing +at all - neither for work nor Greek - only to play cards! Faith, +it’s going mad I will be!’<br> +<br> +‘I say, Murtagh!’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, Shorsha dear!’<br> +<br> +‘I have a pack of cards.’<br> +<br> +‘You don’t say so, Shorsha ma vourneen? - you don’t +say that you have cards fifty-two?’<br> +<br> +‘I do, though; and they are quite new - never been once used.’<br> +<br> +‘And you’ll be lending them to me, I warrant?’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t think it! - But I’ll sell them to you, joy, +if you like.’<br> +<br> +‘Hanam mon Dioul! am I not after telling you that I have no money +at all!’<br> +<br> +‘But you have as good as money, to me, at least; and I’ll +take it in exchange.’<br> +<br> +‘What’s that, Shorsha dear?’<br> +<br> +‘Irish!’<br> +<br> +‘Irish?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, you speak Irish; I heard you talking it the other day to +the cripple. You shall teach me Irish.’<br> +<br> +‘And is it a language-master you’d be making of me?’<br> +<br> +‘To be sure! - what better can you do? - it would help you to +pass your time at school. You can’t learn Greek, so you +must teach Irish!’<br> +<br> +Before Christmas, Murtagh was playing at cards with his brother Denis, +and I could speak a considerable quantity of broken Irish.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Templemore - Devil’s Mountain - No companion - Force of circumstance +- Way of the world - Ruined castle - Grim and desolate - The donjon +- Old woman - My own house.<br> +<br> +When Christmas was over, and the new year commenced, we broke up our +quarters, and marched away to Templemore. This was a large military +station, situated in a wild and thinly inhabited country. Extensive +bogs were in the neighbourhood, connected with the huge bog of Allen, +the Palus Maeotis of Ireland. Here and there was seen a ruined +castle looming through the mists of winter; whilst, at the distance +of seven miles, rose a singular mountain, exhibiting in its brow a chasm, +or vacuum, just, for all the world, as if a piece had been bitten out; +a feat which, according to the tradition of the country, had actually +been performed by his Satanic majesty, who, after flying for some leagues +with the morsel in his mouth, becoming weary, dropped it in the vicinity +of Cashel, where it may now be seen in the shape of a bold bluff hill, +crowned with the ruins of a stately edifice, probably built by some +ancient Irish king.<br> +<br> +We had been here only a few days, when my brother, who, as I have before +observed, had become one of his Majesty’s officers, was sent on +detachment to a village at about ten miles’ distance. He +was not sixteen, and, though three years older than myself, scarcely +my equal in stature, for I had become tall and large-limbed for my age; +but there was a spirit in him which would not have disgraced a general; +and, nothing daunted at the considerable responsibility which he was +about to incur, he marched sturdily out of the barrack-yard at the head +of his party, consisting of twenty light-infantry men, and a tall grenadier +sergeant, selected expressly by my father, for the soldier-like qualities +which he possessed, to accompany his son on this his first expedition. +So out of the barrack-yard, with something of an air, marched my dear +brother, his single drum and fife playing the inspiring old melody,<br> +<br> +<br> +Marlbrouk is gone to the wars,<br> +He’ll never return no more!<br> +<br> +<br> +I soon missed my brother, for I was now alone, with no being, at all +assimilating in age, with whom I could exchange a word. Of late +years, from being almost constantly at school, I had cast aside, in +a great degree, my unsocial habits and natural reserve, but in the desolate +region in which we now were there was no school; and I felt doubly the +loss of my brother, whom, moreover, I tenderly loved for his own sake. +Books I had none, at least such ‘as I cared about’; and +with respect to the old volume, the wonders of which had first beguiled +me into common reading, I had so frequently pored over its pages, that +I had almost got its contents by heart. I was therefore in danger +of falling into the same predicament as Murtagh, becoming ‘frighted’ +from having nothing to do! Nay, I had not even his resources; +I cared not for cards, even if I possessed them and could find people +disposed to play with them. However, I made the most of circumstances, +and roamed about the desolate fields and bogs in the neighbourhood, +sometimes entering the cabins of the peasantry, with a ‘God’s +blessing upon you, good people!’ where I would take my seat on +the ‘stranger’s stone’ at the corner of the hearth, +and, looking them full in the face, would listen to the carles and carlines +talking Irish.<br> +<br> +Ah, that Irish! How frequently do circumstances, at first sight +the most trivial and unimportant, exercise a mighty and permanent influence +on our habits and pursuits! - how frequently is a stream turned aside +from its natural course by some little rock or knoll, causing it to +make an abrupt turn! On a wild road in Ireland I had heard Irish +spoken for the first time; and I was seized with a desire to learn Irish, +the acquisition of which, in my case, became the stepping-stone to other +languages. I had previously learnt Latin, or rather Lilly; but +neither Latin nor Lilly made me a philologist. I had frequently +heard French and other languages, but had felt little desire to become +acquainted with them; and what, it may be asked, was there connected +with the Irish calculated to recommend it to my attention?<br> +<br> +First of all, and principally, I believe, the strangeness and singularity +of its tones; then there was something mysterious and uncommon associated +with its use. It was not a school language, to acquire which was +considered an imperative duty; no, no; nor was it a drawing-room language, +drawled out occasionally, in shreds and patches, by the ladies of generals +and other great dignitaries, to the ineffable dismay of poor officers’ +wives. Nothing of the kind; but a speech spoken in out-of-the-way +desolate places, and in cut-throat kens, where thirty ruffians, at the +sight of the king’s minions, would spring up with brandished sticks +and an ‘ubbubboo like the blowing up of a powder-magazine.’ +Such were the points connected with the Irish, which first awakened +in my mind the desire of acquiring it; and by acquiring it I became, +as I have already said, enamoured of languages. Having learnt +one by choice, I speedily, as the reader will perceive, learnt others, +some of which were widely different from Irish.<br> +<br> +Ah, that Irish! I am much indebted to it in more ways than one. +But I am afraid I have followed the way of the world, which is very +much wont to neglect original friends and benefactors. I frequently +find myself, at present, turning up my nose at Irish when I hear it +in the street; yet I have still a kind of regard for it, the fine old +language:<br> +<br> +<br> +A labhair Padruic n’insefail nan riogh.<br> +<br> +<br> +One of the most peculiar features of this part of Ireland is the ruined +castles, which are so thick and numerous that the face of the country +appears studded with them, it being difficult to choose any situation +from which one, at least, may not be descried. They are of various +ages and styles of architecture, some of great antiquity, like the stately +remains which crown the Crag of Cashel; others built by the early English +conquerors; others, and probably the greater part, erections of the +times of Elizabeth and Cromwell. The whole speaking monuments +of the troubled and insecure state of the country, from the most remote +periods to a comparatively modern time.<br> +<br> +From the windows of the room where I slept I had a view of one of these +old places - an indistinct one, it is true, the distance being too great +to permit me to distinguish more than the general outline. I had +an anxious desire to explore it. It stood to the south-east; in +which direction, however, a black bog intervened, which had more than +once baffled all my attempts to cross it. One morning, however, +when the sun shone brightly upon the old building, it appeared so near, +that I felt ashamed at not being able to accomplish a feat seemingly +so easy; I determined, therefore, upon another trial. I reached +the bog, and was about to venture upon its black surface, and to pick +my way amongst its innumerable holes, yawning horribly, and half filled +with water black as soot, when it suddenly occurred to me that there +was a road to the south, by following which I might find a more convenient +route to the object of my wishes. The event justified my expectations, +for, after following the road for some three miles, seemingly in the +direction of the Devil’s Mountain, I suddenly beheld the castle +on my left.<br> +<br> +I diverged from the road, and, crossing two or three fields, came to +a small grassy plain, in the midst of which stood the castle. +About a gun-shot to the south was a small village, which had, probably, +in ancient days, sprung up beneath its protection. A kind of awe +came over me as I approached the old building. The sun no longer +shone upon it, and it looked so grim, so desolate and solitary; and +here was I, in that wild country, alone with that grim building before +me. The village was within sight, it is true; but it might be +a village of the dead for what I knew; no sound issued from it, no smoke +was rising from its roofs, neither man nor beast was visible, no life, +no motion - it looked as desolate as the castle itself. Yet I +was bent on the adventure, and moved on towards the castle across the +green plain, occasionally casting a startled glance around me; and now +I was close to it.<br> +<br> +It was surrounded by a quadrangular wall, about ten feet in height, +with a square tower at each corner. At first I could discover +no entrance; walking round, however, to the northern side, I found a +wide and lofty gateway with a tower above it, similar to those at the +angles of the wall; on this side the ground sloped gently down towards +the bog, which was here skirted by an abundant growth of copse-wood +and a few evergreen oaks. I passed through the gateway, and found +myself within a square inclosure of about two acres. On one side +rose a round and lofty keep, or donjon, with a conical roof, part of +which had fallen down, strewing the square with its ruins. Close +to the keep, on the other side, stood the remains of an oblong house, +built something in the modern style, with various window-holes; nothing +remained but the bare walls and a few projecting stumps of beams, which +seemed to have been half burnt. The interior of the walls was +blackened, as if by fire; fire also appeared at one time to have raged +out of the window-holes, for the outside about them was black, portentously +so. ‘I wonder what has been going on here?’ I exclaimed.<br> +<br> +There were echoes among the walls as I walked about the court. +I entered the keep by a low and frowning doorway: the lower floor consisted +of a large dungeon-like room, with a vaulted roof; on the left hand +was a winding staircase in the thickness of the wall; it looked anything +but inviting; yet I stole softly up, my heart beating. On the +top of the first flight of stairs was an arched doorway, to the left +was a dark passage, to the right, stairs leading still higher. +I stepped under the arch and found myself in an apartment somewhat similar +to the one below, but higher. There was an object at the farther +end.<br> +<br> +An old woman, at least eighty, was seated on a stone, cowering over +a few sticks burning feebly on what had once been a right noble and +cheerful hearth; her side-glance was towards the doorway as I entered, +for she had heard my foot-steps. I stood suddenly still, and her +haggard glance rested on my face.<br> +<br> +‘Is this your house, mother?’ I at length demanded, in the +language which I thought she would best understand.<br> +<br> +‘Yes, my house, my own house; the house of the broken-hearted.’<br> +<br> +‘Any other person’s house?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘My own house, the beggar’s house - the accursed house of +Cromwell!’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +A visit - Figure of a man - The dog of peace - The raw wound - The guardroom +- Boy soldier - Person in authority - Never solitary - Clergyman and +family - Still-hunting - Fairy man - Near sunset - Bagg - Left-handed +hitter - Irish and supernatural - At Swanton Morley.<br> +<br> +One morning I set out, designing to pay a visit to my brother at the +place where he was detached; the distance was rather considerable, yet +I hoped to be back by evening fall, for I was now a shrewd walker, thanks +to constant practice. I set out early, and, directing my course +towards the north, I had in less than two hours accomplished considerably +more than half of the journey. The weather had at first been propitious: +a slight frost had rendered the ground firm to the tread, and the skies +were clear; but now a change came over the scene, the skies darkened, +and a heavy snowstorm came on; the road then lay straight through a +bog, and was bounded by a deep trench on both sides; I was making the +best of my way, keeping as nearly as I could in the middle of the road, +lest, blinded by the snow which was frequently borne into my eyes by +the wind, I might fall into the dyke, when all at once I heard a shout +to windward, and turning my eyes I saw the figure of a man, and what +appeared to be an animal of some kind, coming across the bog with great +speed, in the direction of myself; the nature of the ground seemed to +offer but little impediment to these beings, both clearing the holes +and abysses which lay in their way with surprising agility; the animal +was, however, some slight way in advance, and, bounding over the dyke, +appeared on the road just before me. It was a dog, of what species +I cannot tell, never having seen the like before or since; the head +was large and round; the ears so tiny as scarcely to be discernible; +the eyes of a fiery red: in size it was rather small than large; and +the coat, which was remarkably smooth, as white as the falling flakes. +It placed itself directly in my path, and showing its teeth, and bristling +its coat, appeared determined to prevent my progress. I had an +ashen stick in my hand, with which I threatened it; this, however, only +served to increase its fury; it rushed upon me, and I had the utmost +difficulty to preserve myself from its fangs.<br> +<br> +‘What are you doing with the dog, the fairy dog?’ said a +man, who at this time likewise cleared the dyke at a bound.<br> +<br> +He was a very tall man, rather well dressed as it should seem; his garments, +however, were, like my own, so covered with snow that I could scarcely +discern their quality.<br> +<br> +‘What are ye doing with the dog of peace?’<br> +<br> +‘I wish he would show himself one,’ said I; ‘I said +nothing to him, but he placed himself in my road, and would not let +me pass.’<br> +<br> +‘Of course he would not be letting you till he knew where ye were +going.’<br> +<br> +‘He’s not much of a fairy,’ said I, ‘or he would +know that without asking; tell him that I am going to see my brother.’<br> +<br> +‘And who is your brother, little Sas?’<br> +<br> +‘What my father is, a royal soldier.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, ye are going then to the detachment at - ; by my shoul, I +have a good mind to be spoiling your journey.’<br> +<br> +‘You are doing that already,’ said I, ‘keeping me +here talking about dogs and fairies; you had better go home and get +some salve to cure that place over your eye; it’s catching cold +you’ll be, in so much snow.’<br> +<br> +On one side of the man’s forehead there was a raw and staring +wound, as if from a recent and terrible blow.<br> +<br> +‘Faith, then I’ll be going, but it’s taking you wid +me I will be.’<br> +<br> +‘And where will you take me?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, then, to Ryan’s Castle, little Sas.’<br> +<br> +‘You do not speak the language very correctly,’ said I; +‘it is not Sas you should call me - ’tis Sassannach,’ +and forthwith I accompanied the word with a speech full of flowers of +Irish rhetoric.<br> +<br> +The man looked upon me for a moment, fixedly, then, bending his head +towards his breast, he appeared to be undergoing a kind of convulsion, +which was accompanied by a sound something resembling laughter; presently +he looked at me, and there was a broad grin on his features.<br> +<br> +‘By my shoul, it’s a thing of peace I’m thinking ye.’<br> +<br> +But now with a whisking sound came running down the road a hare; it +was nearly upon us before it perceived us; suddenly stopping short, +however, it sprang into the bog on the right-hand side; after it amain +bounded the dog of peace, followed by the man, but not until he had +nodded to me a farewell salutation. In a few moments I lost sight +of him amidst the snowflakes.<br> +<br> +The weather was again clear and fine before I reached the place of detachment. +It was a little wooden barrack, surrounded by a wall of the same material; +a sentinel stood at the gate, I passed by him, and, entering the building, +found myself in a rude kind of guardroom; several soldiers were lying +asleep on a wooden couch at one end, others lounged on benches by the +side of a turf fire. The tall sergeant stood before the fire, +holding a cooking utensil in his left hand; on seeing me, he made the +military salutation.<br> +<br> +‘Is my brother here?’ said I, rather timidly, dreading to +hear that he was out, perhaps for the day.<br> +<br> +‘The ensign is in his room, sir,’ said Bagg, ‘I am +now preparing his meal, which will presently be ready; you will find +the ensign above stairs,’ and he pointed to a broken ladder which +led to some place above.<br> +<br> +And there I found him - the boy soldier - in a kind of upper loft, so +low that I could touch with my hands the sooty rafters; the floor was +of rough boards, through the joints of which you could see the gleam +of the soldiers’ fire, and occasionally discern their figures +as they moved about; in one corner was a camp bedstead, by the side +of which hung the child’s sword, gorget, and sash; a deal table +stood in the proximity of the rusty grate, where smoked and smouldered +a pile of black turf from the bog, - a deal table without a piece of +baize to cover it, yet fraught with things not devoid of interest: a +Bible, given by a mother; the <i>Odyssey</i>, the Greek <i>Odyssey</i>; +a flute, with broad silver keys; crayons, moreover, and water-colours; +and a sketch of a wild prospect near, which, though but half finished, +afforded ample proof of the excellence and skill of the boyish hand +now occupied upon it.<br> +<br> +Ah! he was a sweet being, that boy soldier, a plant of early promise, +bidding fair to become in after time all that is great, good, and admirable. +I have read of a remarkable Welshman, of whom it was said, when the +grave closed over him, that he could frame a harp, and play it; build +a ship, and sail it; compose an ode, and set it to music. A brave +fellow that son of Wales - but I had once a brother who could do more +and better than this, but the grave has closed over him, as over the +gallant Welshman of yore; there are now but two that remember him - +the one who bore him, and the being who was nurtured at the same breast. +He was taken, and I was left! - Truly, the ways of Providence are inscrutable.<br> +<br> +‘You seem to be very comfortable, John,’ said I, looking +around the room and at the various objects which I have described above: +‘you have a good roof over your head, and have all your things +about you.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, I am very comfortable, George, in many respects; I am, moreover, +independent, and feel myself a man for the first time in my life - independent +did I say? - that’s not the word, I am something much higher than +that; here am I, not sixteen yet, a person in authority, like the centurion +in the book there, with twenty Englishmen under me, worth a whole legion +of his men, and that fine fellow Bagg to wait upon me, and take my orders. +Oh! these last six weeks have passed like hours of heaven.’<br> +<br> +‘But your time must frequently hang heavy on your hands; this +is a strange wild place, and you must be very solitary?’<br> +<br> +‘I am never solitary; I have, as you see, all my things about +me, and there is plenty of company below stairs. Not that I mix +with the soldiers; if I did, good-bye to my authority; but when I am +alone I can hear all their discourse through the planks, and I often +laugh to myself at the funny things they say.’<br> +<br> +‘And have you any acquaintance here?’<br> +<br> +‘The very best; much better than the Colonel and the rest, at +their grand Templemore; I had never so many in my whole life before. +One has just left me, a gentleman who lives at a distance across the +bog; he comes to talk with me about Greek, and the <i>Odyssey</i>, for +he is a very learned man, and understands the old Irish, and various +other strange languages. He has had a dispute with Bagg. +On hearing his name, he called him to him, and, after looking at him +for some time with great curiosity, said that he was sure he was a Dane. +Bagg, however, took the compliment in dudgeon, and said that he was +no more a Dane than himself, but a true-born Englishman, and a sergeant +of six years’ standing.’<br> +<br> +‘And what other acquaintance have you?’<br> +<br> +‘All kinds; the whole neighbourhood can’t make enough of +me. Amongst others there’s the clergyman of the parish and +his family; such a venerable old man, such fine sons and daughters! +I am treated by them like a son and a brother - I might be always with +them if I pleased; there’s one drawback, however, in going to +see them; there’s a horrible creature in the house, a kind of +tutor, whom they keep more from charity than anything else; he is a +Papist and, they say, a priest; you should see him scowl sometimes at +my red coat, for he hates the king, and not unfrequently, when the king’s +health is drunk, curses him between his teeth. I once got up to +strike him; but the youngest of the sisters, who is the handsomest, +caught my arm and pointed to her forehead.’<br> +<br> +‘And what does your duty consist of? Have you nothing else +to do than pay visits and receive them?’<br> +<br> +‘We do what is required of us, we guard this edifice, perform +our evolutions, and help the excise; I am frequently called up in the +dead of night to go to some wild place or other in quest of an illicit +still; this last part of our duty is poor mean work, I don’t like +it, nor more does Bagg; though without it we should not see much active +service, for the neighbourhood is quiet; save the poor creatures with +their stills, not a soul is stirring. ’Tis true there’s +Jerry Grant.’<br> +<br> +‘And who is Jerry Grant?’<br> +<br> +‘Did you never hear of him? that’s strange, the whole country +is talking about him; he is a kind of outlaw, rebel, or robber, all +three I daresay; there’s a hundred pounds offered for his head.’<br> +<br> +‘And where does he live?’<br> +<br> +‘His proper home, they say, is in the Queen’s County, where +he has a band, but he is a strange fellow, fond of wandering about by +himself amidst the bogs and mountains, and living in the old castles; +occasionally he quarters himself in the peasants’ houses, who +let him do just what he pleases; he is free of his money, and often +does them good turns, and can be good-humoured enough, so they don’t +dislike him. Then he is what they call a fairy man, a person in +league with fairies and spirits, and able to work much harm by supernatural +means, on which account they hold him in great awe; he is, moreover, +a mighty strong and tall fellow. Bagg has seen him.’<br> +<br> +‘Has he?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes! and felt him; he too is a strange one. A few days +ago he was told that Grant had been seen hovering about an old castle +some two miles off in the bog; so one afternoon what does he do but, +without saying a word to me - for which, by the bye, I ought to put +him under arrest, though what I should do without Bagg I have no idea +whatever - what does he do but walk off to the castle, intending, as +I suppose, to pay a visit to Jerry. He had some difficulty in +getting there on account of the turf-holes in the bog, which he was +not accustomed to; however, thither at last he got and went in. +It was a strange lonesome place, he says, and he did not much like the +look of it; however, in he went, and searched about from the bottom +to the top and down again, but could find no one; he shouted and hallooed, +but nobody answered, save the rooks and choughs, which started up in +great numbers. “I have lost my trouble,” said Bagg, +and left the castle. It was now late in the afternoon, near sunset, +when about half-way over the bog he met a man - ’<br> +<br> +‘And that man was - ’<br> +<br> +‘Jerry Grant! there’s no doubt of it. Bagg says it +was the most sudden thing in the world. He was moving along, making +the best of his way, thinking of nothing at all save a public-house +at Swanton Morley, which he intends to take when he gets home, and the +regiment is disbanded - though I hope that will not be for some time +yet: he had just leaped a turf-hole, and was moving on, when, at the +distance of about six yards before him, he saw a fellow coming straight +towards him. Bagg says that he stopped short, as suddenly as if +he had heard the word halt, when marching at double quick time. +It was quite a surprise, he says, and he can’t imagine how the +fellow was so close upon him before he was aware. He was an immense +tall fellow - Bagg thinks at least two inches taller than himself - +very well dressed in a blue coat and buff breeches, for all the world +like a squire when going out hunting. Bagg, however, saw at once +that he had a roguish air, and he was on his guard in a moment. +“Good-evening to ye, sodger,” says the fellow, stepping +close up to Bagg, and staring him in the face. “Good-evening +to you, sir! I hope you are well,” says Bagg. “You +are looking after some one?” says the fellow. “Just +so, sir,” says Bagg, and forthwith seized him by the collar; the +man laughed, Bagg says it was such a strange awkward laugh. “Do +you know whom you have got hold of, sodger?” said he. “I +believe I do, sir,” said Bagg, “and in that belief will +hold you fast in the name of King George and the quarter sessions”; +the next moment he was sprawling with his heels in the air. Bagg +says there was nothing remarkable in that; he was only flung by a kind +of wrestling trick, which he could easily have baffled had he been aware +of it. “You will not do that again, sir,” said he, +as he got up and put himself on his guard. The fellow laughed +again more strangely and awkwardly than before; then, bending his body +and moving his head from one side to the other as a cat does before +she springs, and crying out, “Here’s for ye, sodger!” +he made a dart at Bagg, rushing in with his head foremost. “That +will do, sir,” says Bagg, and, drawing himself back, he put in +a left-handed blow with all the force of his body and arm, just over +the fellow’s right eye - Bagg is a left-handed hitter, you must +know - and it was a blow of that kind which won him his famous battle +at Edinburgh with the big Highland sergeant. Bagg says that he +was quite satisfied with the blow, more especially when he saw the fellow +reel, fling out his arms, and fall to the ground. “And now, +sir,” said he, “I’ll make bold to hand you over to +the quarter sessions, and, if there is a hundred pounds for taking you, +who has more right to it than myself?” So he went forward, +but ere he could lay hold of his man the other was again on his legs, +and was prepared to renew the combat. They grappled each other +- Bagg says he had not much fear of the result, as he now felt himself +the best man, the other seeming half-stunned with the blow - but just +then there came on a blast, a horrible roaring wind bearing night upon +its wings, snow, and sleet, and hail. Bagg says he had the fellow +by the throat quite fast, as he thought, but suddenly he became bewildered, +and knew not where he was; and the man seemed to melt away from his +grasp, and the wind howled more and more, and the night poured down +darker and darker; the snow and the sleet thicker and more blinding. +“Lord have mercy upon us!” said Bagg.’<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. A strange adventure that; it is well that Bagg +got home alive.<br> +<br> +<i>John</i>. He says that the fight was a fair fight, and that +the fling he got was a fair fling, the result of a common enough wrestling +trick. But with respect to the storm, which rose up just in time +to save the fellow, he is of opinion that it was not fair, but something +Irish and supernatural.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. I daresay he’s right. I have read of +witchcraft in the Bible.<br> +<br> +<i>John</i>. He wishes much to have one more encounter with the +fellow; he says that on fair ground, and in fine weather, he has no +doubt that he could master him, and hand him over to the quarter sessions. +He says that a hundred pounds would be no bad thing to be disbanded +upon; for he wishes to take an inn at Swanton Morley, keep a cock-pit, +and live respectably.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. He is quite right; and now kiss me, my darling +brother, for I must go back through the bog to Templemore.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Groom and cob - Strength and symmetry - Where’s the saddle? - +The first ride - No more fatigue - Love for horses - Pursuit of words +- Philologist and Pegasus - The smith - What more, agrah? - Sassannach +tenpence.<br> +<br> +And it came to pass that, as I was standing by the door of the barrack +stable, one of the grooms came out to me, saying, ‘I say, young +gentleman, I wish you would give the cob a breathing this fine morning.’<br> +<br> +‘Why do you wish me to mount him?’ said I; ‘you know +he is dangerous. I saw him fling you off his back only a few days +ago.’<br> +<br> +‘Why, that’s the very thing, master. I’d rather +see anybody on his back than myself; he does not like me; but, to them +he does, he can be as gentle as a lamb.’<br> +<br> +‘But suppose,’ said I, ‘that he should not like me?’<br> +<br> +‘We shall soon see that, master,’ said the groom; ‘and, +if so be he shows temper, I will be the first to tell you to get down. +But there’s no fear of that; you have never angered or insulted +him, and to such as you, I say again, he’ll be as gentle as a +lamb.’<br> +<br> +‘And how came you to insult him,’ said I, ‘knowing +his temper as you do?’<br> +<br> +‘Merely through forgetfulness, master: I was riding him about +a month ago, and having a stick in my hand, I struck him, thinking I +was on another horse, or rather thinking of nothing at all. He +has never forgiven me, though before that time he was the only friend +I had in the world; I should like to see you on him, master.’<br> +<br> +‘I should soon be off him; I can’t ride.’<br> +<br> +‘Then you are all right, master; there’s no fear. +Trust him for not hurting a young gentleman, an officer’s son, +who can’t ride. If you were a blackguard dragoon, indeed, +with long spurs, ‘twere another thing; as it is, he’ll treat +you as if he were the elder brother that loves you. Ride! +He’ll soon teach you to ride if you leave the matter with him. +He’s the best riding-master in all Ireland, and the gentlest.’<br> +<br> +The cob was led forth; what a tremendous creature! I had frequently +seen him before, and wondered at him; he was barely fifteen hands, but +he had the girth of a metropolitan dray-horse; his head was small in +comparison with his immense neck, which curved down nobly to his wide +back: his chest was broad and fine, and his shoulders models of symmetry +and strength; he stood well and powerfully upon his legs, which were +somewhat short. In a word, he was a gallant specimen of the genuine +Irish cob, a species at one time not uncommon, but at the present day +nearly extinct.<br> +<br> +‘There!’ said the groom, as he looked at him, half admiringly, +half sorrowfully, ‘with sixteen stone on his back, he’ll +trot fourteen miles in one hour, with your nine stone, some two and +a half more ay, and clear a six-foot wall at the end of it.’<br> +<br> +‘I’m half afraid,’ said I; ‘I had rather you +would ride him.’<br> +<br> +‘I’d rather so, too, if he would let me; but he remembers +the blow. Now, don’t be afraid, young master, he’s +longing to go out himself. He’s been trampling with his +feet these three days, and I know what that means; he’ll let anybody +ride him but myself, and thank them; but to me he says, “No! you +struck me.”’<br> +<br> +‘But,’ said I, ‘where’s the saddle?’<br> +<br> +‘Never mind the saddle; if you are ever to be a frank rider, you +must begin without a saddle; besides, if he felt a saddle, he would +think you don’t trust him, and leave you to yourself. Now, +before you mount, make his acquaintance - see there, how he kisses you +and licks your face, and see how he lifts his foot, that’s to +shake hands. You may trust him - now you are on his back at last; +mind how you hold the bridle - gently, gently! It’s not +four pair of hands like yours can hold him if he wishes to be off. +Mind what I tell you - leave it all to him.’<br> +<br> +Off went the cob at a slow and gentle trot, too fast and rough, however, +for so inexperienced a rider. I soon felt myself sliding off, +the animal perceived it too, and instantly stood stone still till I +had righted myself; and now the groom came up: ‘When you feel +yourself going,’ said he, ‘don’t lay hold of the mane, +that’s no use; mane never yet saved man from falling, no more +than straw from drowning; it’s his sides you must cling to with +your calves and feet, till you learn to balance yourself. That’s +it, now abroad with you; I’ll bet my comrade a pot of beer that +you’ll be a regular rough-rider by the time you come back.’<br> +<br> +And so it proved; I followed the directions of the groom, and the cob +gave me every assistance. How easy is riding, after the first +timidity is got over, to supple and youthful limbs; and there is no +second fear. The creature soon found that the nerves of his rider +were in proper tone. Turning his head half round, he made a kind +of whining noise, flung out a little foam, and set off.<br> +<br> +In less than two hours I had made the circuit of the Devil’s Mountain, +and was returning along the road, bathed with perspiration, but screaming +with delight; the cob laughing in his equine way, scattering foam and +pebbles to the left and right, and trotting at the rate of sixteen miles +an hour.<br> +<br> +Oh, that ride! that first ride! - most truly it was an epoch in my existence; +and I still look back to it with feelings of longing and regret. +People may talk of first love - it is a very agreeable event, I daresay +- but give me the flush, and triumph, and glorious sweat of a first +ride, like mine on the mighty cob! My whole frame was shaken, +it is true; and during one long week I could hardly move foot or hand; +but what of that? By that one trial I had become free, as I may +say, of the whole equine species. No more fatigue, no more stiffness +of joints, after that first ride round the Devil’s Hill on the +cob.<br> +<br> +Oh, that cob! that Irish cob! - may the sod lie lightly over the bones +of the strongest, speediest, and most gallant of its kind! Oh! +the days when, issuing from the barrack-gate of Templemore, we commenced +our hurry-skurry just as inclination led - now across the fields - direct +over stone walls and running brooks - mere pastime for the cob! - sometimes +along the road to Thurles and Holy Cross, even to distant Cahir! - what +was distance to the cob?<br> +<br> +It was thus that the passion for the equine race was first awakened +within me - a passion which, up to the present time, has been rather +on the increase than diminishing. It is no blind passion; the +horse being a noble and generous creature, intended by the All-Wise +to be the helper and friend of man, to whom he stands next in the order +of creation. On many occasions of my life I have been much indebted +to the horse, and have found in him a friend and coadjutor, when human +help and sympathy were not to be obtained. It is therefore natural +enough that I should love the horse; but the love which I entertain +for him has always been blended with respect; for I soon perceived that, +though disposed to be the friend and helper of man, he is by no means +inclined to be his slave; in which respect he differs from the dog, +who will crouch when beaten; whereas the horse spurns, for he is aware +of his own worth and that he carries death within the horn of his heel. +If, therefore, I found it easy to love the horse, I found it equally +natural to respect him.<br> +<br> +I much question whether philology, or the passion for languages, requires +so little of an apology as the love for horses. It has been said, +I believe, that the more languages a man speaks, the more a man is he; +which is very true, provided he acquires languages as a medium for becoming +acquainted with the thoughts and feelings of the various sections into +which the human race is divided; but, in that case, he should rather +be termed a philosopher than a philologist - between which two the difference +is wide indeed! An individual may speak and read a dozen languages, +and yet be an exceedingly poor creature, scarcely half a man; and the +pursuit of tongues for their own sake, and the mere satisfaction of +acquiring them, surely argues an intellect of a very low order; a mind +disposed to be satisfied with mean and grovelling things; taking more +pleasure in the trumpery casket than in the precious treasure which +it contains; in the pursuit of words, than in the acquisition of ideas.<br> +<br> +I cannot help thinking that it was fortunate for myself, who am, to +a certain extent, a philologist, that with me the pursuit of languages +has been always modified by the love of horses; for scarcely had I turned +my mind to the former, when I also mounted the wild cob, and hurried +forth in the direction of the Devil’s Hill, scattering dust and +flint-stones on every side; that ride, amongst other things, taught +me that a lad with thews and sinews was intended by nature for something +better than mere word-culling; and if I have accomplished anything in +after life worthy of mentioning, I believe it may partly be attributed +to the ideas which that ride, by setting my blood in a glow, infused +into my brain. I might, otherwise, have become a mere philologist; +one of those beings who toil night and day in culling useless words +for some <i>opus magnum</i> which Murray will never publish, and nobody +ever read; beings without enthusiasm, who, having never mounted a generous +steed, cannot detect a good point in Pegasus himself; like a certain +philologist, who, though acquainted with the exact value of every word +in the Greek and Latin languages, could observe no particular beauty +in one of the most glorious of Homer’s rhapsodies. What +knew he of Pegasus? he had never mounted a generous steed; the merest +jockey, had the strain been interpreted to him, would have called it +a brave song! - I return to the brave cob.<br> +<br> +On a certain day I had been out on an excursion. In a cross-road, +at some distance from the Satanic hill, the animal which I rode cast +a shoe. By good luck a small village was at hand, at the entrance +of which was a large shed, from which proceeded a most furious noise +of hammering. Leading the cob by the bridle, I entered boldly. +‘Shoe this horse, and do it quickly, a gough,’ said I to +a wild grimy figure of a man, whom I found alone, fashioning a piece +of iron.<br> +<br> +‘Arrigod yuit?’ said the fellow, desisting from his work, +and staring at me.<br> +<br> +‘Oh yes, I have money,’ said I, ‘and of the best’; +and I pulled out an English shilling.<br> +<br> +‘Tabhair chugam?’ said the smith, stretching out his grimy +hand.<br> +<br> +‘No, I shan’t,’ said I; ‘some people are glad +to get their money when their work is done.’<br> +<br> +The fellow hammered a little longer, and then proceeded to shoe the +cob, after having first surveyed it with attention. He performed +his job rather roughly, and more than once appeared to give the animal +unnecessary pain, frequently making use of loud and boisterous words. +By the time the work was done, the creature was in a state of high excitement, +and plunged and tore. The smith stood at a short distance, seeming +to enjoy the irritation of the animal, and showing, in a remarkable +manner, a huge fang, which projected from the under jaw of a very wry +mouth.<br> +<br> +‘You deserve better handling,’ said I, as I went up to the +cob and fondled it; whereupon it whinnied, and attempted to touch my +face with its nose.<br> +<br> +‘Are ye not afraid of that beast?’ said the smith, showing +his fang. ‘Arrah, it’s vicious that he looks!’<br> +<br> +‘It’s at you, then! - I don’t fear him’; and +thereupon I passed under the horse, between its hind legs.<br> +<br> +‘And is that all you can do, agrah?’ said the smith.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘I can ride him.’<br> +<br> +‘Ye can ride him, and what else, agrah?’<br> +<br> +‘I can leap him over a six-foot wall,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Over a wall, and what more, agrah?’<br> +<br> +‘Nothing more,’ said I; ‘what more would you have?’<br> +<br> +‘Can you do this, agrah?’ said the smith; and he uttered +a word which I had never heard before, in a sharp pungent tone. +The effect upon myself was somewhat extraordinary, a strange thrill +ran through me; but with regard to the cob it was terrible; the animal +forthwith became like one mad, and reared and kicked with the utmost +desperation.<br> +<br> +‘Can you do that, agrah?’ said the smith.<br> +<br> +‘What is it?’ said I, retreating, ‘I never saw the +horse so before.’<br> +<br> +‘Go between his legs, agrah,’ said the smith, ‘his +hinder legs’; and he again showed his fang.<br> +<br> +‘I dare not,’ said I, ‘he would kill me.’<br> +<br> +‘He would kill ye! and how do ye know that, agrah?’<br> +<br> +‘I feel he would,’ said I, ‘something tells me so.’<br> +<br> +‘And it tells ye truth, agrah; but it’s a fine beast, and +it’s a pity to see him in such a state: Is agam an’t leigeas’ +- and here he uttered another word in a voice singularly modified, but +sweet and almost plaintive; the effect of it was as instantaneous as +that of the other, but how different! - the animal lost all its fury, +and became at once calm and gentle. The smith went up to it, coaxed +and patted it, making use of various sounds of equine endearment; then +turning to me, and holding out once more the grimy hand, he said, ‘And +now ye will be giving me the Sassannach tenpence, agrah?’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XIV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +A fine old city - Norman master-work - Lollards’ Hole - Good blood +- The Spaniard’s sword - Old retired officer - Writing to a duke +- God help the child - Nothing like Jacob - Irish brigades - Old Sergeant +Meredith - I have been young - Idleness - Only course open - The bookstall +- A portrait - A banished priest.<br> +<br> +From the wild scenes which I have attempted to describe in the latter +pages I must now transport the reader to others of a widely different +character. He must suppose himself no longer in Ireland, but in +the eastern corner of merry England. Bogs, ruins, and mountains +have disappeared amidst the vapours of the west: I have nothing more +to say of them; the region in which we are now is not famous for objects +of that kind: perhaps it flatters itself that it can produce fairer +and better things, of some of which let me speak; there is a fine old +city before us, and first of that let me speak.<br> +<br> +A fine old city, truly, is that, view it from whatever side you will; +but it shows best from the east, where the ground, bold and elevated, +overlooks the fair and fertile valley in which it stands. Gazing +from those heights, the eye beholds a scene which cannot fail to awaken, +even in the least sensitive bosom, feelings of pleasure and admiration. +At the foot of the heights flows a narrow and deep river, with an antique +bridge communicating with a long and narrow suburb, flanked on either +side by rich meadows of the brightest green, beyond which spreads the +city; the fine old city, perhaps the most curious specimen at present +extant of the genuine old English town. Yes, there it spreads +from north to south, with its venerable houses, its numerous gardens, +its thrice twelve churches, its mighty mound, which, if tradition speaks +true, was raised by human hands to serve as the grave-heap of an old +heathen king, who sits deep within it, with his sword in his hand, and +his gold and silver treasures about him. There is a gray old castle +upon the top of that mighty mound; and yonder, rising three hundred +feet above the soil, from among those noble forest trees, behold that +old Norman master-work, that cloud-encircled cathedral spire, around +which a garrulous army of rooks and choughs continually wheel their +flight. Now, who can wonder that the children of that fine old +city are proud of her, and offer up prayers for her prosperity? +I, myself, who was not born within her walls, offer up prayers for her +prosperity, that want may never visit her cottages, vice her palaces, +and that the abomination of idolatry may never pollute her temples. +Ha, idolatry! the reign of idolatry has been over there for many a long +year, never more, let us hope, to return; brave hearts in that old town +have borne witness against it, and sealed their testimony with their +hearts’ blood - most precious to the Lord is the blood of His +saints! we are not far from hallowed ground. Observe ye not yon +chalky precipice, to the right of the Norman bridge? On this side +of the stream, upon its brow, is a piece of ruined wall, the last relic +of what was of old a stately pile, whilst at its foot is a place called +the Lollards’ Hole; and with good reason, for many a saint of +God has breathed his last beneath that white precipice, bearing witness +against popish idolatry, midst flame and pitch; many a grisly procession +has advanced along that suburb, across the old bridge, towards the Lollards’ +Hole: furious priests in front, a calm pale martyr in the midst, a pitying +multitude behind. It has had its martyrs, the venerable old town!<br> +<br> +Ah! there is good blood in that old city, and in the whole circumjacent +region of which it is the capital. The Angles possessed the land +at an early period, which, however, they were eventually compelled to +share with hordes of Danes and Northmen, who flocked thither across +the sea to found hearthsteads on its fertile soil. The present +race, a mixture of Angles and Danes, still preserve much which speaks +strongly of their northern ancestry; amongst them ye will find the light-brown +hair of the north, the strong and burly forms of the north, many a wild +superstition, ay, and many a wild name connected with the ancient history +of the north and its sublime mythology; the warm heart and the strong +heart of the old Danes and Saxons still beats in those regions, and +there ye will find, if anywhere, old northern hospitality and kindness +of manner, united with energy, perseverance, and dauntless intrepidity; +better soldiers or mariners never bled in their country’s battles +than those nurtured in those regions, and within those old walls. +It was yonder, to the west, that the great naval hero of Britain first +saw the light; he who annihilated the sea pride of Spain, and dragged +the humbled banner of France in triumph at his stem. He was born +yonder, towards the west, and of him there is a glorious relic in that +old town; in its dark flint guildhouse, the roof of which you can just +descry rising above that maze of buildings, in the upper hall of justice, +is a species of glass shrine, in which the relic is to be seen; a sword +of curious workmanship, the blade is of keen Toledan steel, the heft +of ivory and mother-of-pearl. ’Tis the sword of Cordova, +won in bloodiest fray off Saint Vincent’s promontory, and presented +by Nelson to the old capital of the much-loved land of his birth. +Yes, the proud Spaniard’s sword is to be seen in yonder guildhouse, +in the glass case affixed to the wall: many other relics has the good +old town, but none prouder than the Spaniard’s sword.<br> +<br> +Such was the place to which, when the war was over, my father retired: +it was here that the old tired soldier set himself down with his little +family. He had passed the greater part of his life in meritorious +exertion, in the service of his country, and his chief wish now was +to spend the remainder of his days in quiet and respectability; his +means, it is true, were not very ample; fortunate it was that his desires +corresponded with them; with a small fortune of his own, and with his +half-pay as a royal soldier, he had no fears for himself or for his +faithful partner and helpmate; but then his children! how was he to +provide for them? how launch them upon the wide ocean of the world? +This was, perhaps, the only thought which gave him uneasiness, and I +believe that many an old retired officer at that time, and under similar +circumstances, experienced similar anxiety; had the war continued, their +children would have been, of course, provided for in the army, but peace +now reigned, and the military career was closed to all save the scions +of the aristocracy, or those who were in some degree connected with +that privileged order, an advantage which few of these old officers +could boast of; they had slight influence with the great, who gave themselves +very little trouble either about them or their families.<br> +<br> +‘I have been writing to the Duke,’ said my father one day +to my excellent mother, after we had been at home somewhat better than +a year. ‘I have been writing to the Duke of York about a +commission for that eldest boy of ours. He, however, affords me +no hopes; he says that his list is crammed with names, and that the +greater number of the candidates have better claims than my son.’<br> +<br> +‘I do not see how that can be,’ said my mother.<br> +<br> +‘Nor do I,’ replied my father. ‘I see the sons +of bankers and merchants gazetted every month, and I do not see what +claims they have to urge, unless they be golden ones. However, +I have not served my king fifty years to turn grumbler at this time +of life. I suppose that the people at the head of affairs know +what is most proper and convenient; perhaps when the lad sees how difficult, +nay, how impossible it is that he should enter the army, he will turn +his mind to some other profession; I wish he may!’<br> +<br> +‘I think he has already,’ said my mother; ‘you see +how fond he is of the arts, of drawing and painting, and, as far as +I can judge, what he has already done is very respectable; his mind +seems quite turned that way, and I heard him say the other day that +he would sooner be a Michael Angelo than a general officer. But +you are always talking of him; what do you think of doing with the other +child?’<br> +<br> +‘What, indeed!’ said my father; ‘that is a consideration +which gives me no little uneasiness. I am afraid it will be much +more difficult to settle him in life than his brother. What is +he fitted for, even were it in my power to provide for him? God +help the child! I bear him no ill will, on the contrary, all love +and affection; but I cannot shut my eyes; there is something so strange +about him! How he behaved in Ireland! I sent him to school +to learn Greek, and he picked up Irish!’<br> +<br> +‘And Greek as well,’ said my mother. ‘I heard +him say the other day that he could read St. John in the original tongue.’<br> +<br> +‘You will find excuses for him, I know,’ said my father. +‘You tell me I am always talking of my first-born; I might retort +by saying you are always thinking of the other: but it is the way of +women always to side with the second-born. There’s what’s +her name in the Bible, by whose wiles the old blind man was induced +to give to his second son the blessing which was the birthright of the +other. I wish I had been in his place! I should not have +been so easily deceived! no disguise would ever have caused me to mistake +an impostor for my first-born. Though I must say for this boy +that he is nothing like Jacob; he is neither smooth nor sleek, and, +though my second-born, is already taller and larger than his brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Just so,’ said my mother; ‘his brother would make +a far better Jacob than he.’<br> +<br> +‘I will hear nothing against my first-born,’ said my father, +‘even in the way of insinuation: he is my joy and pride; the very +image of myself in my youthful days, long before I fought Big Ben; though +perhaps not quite so tall or strong built. As for the other, God +bless the child! I love him, I’m sure; but I must be blind +not to see the difference between him and his brother. Why, he +has neither my hair nor my eyes; and then his countenance! why, ’tis +absolutely swarthy, God forgive me! I had almost said like that +of a gypsy, but I have nothing to say against that; the boy is not to +be blamed for the colour of his face, nor for his hair and eyes; but, +then, his ways and manners! - I confess I do not like them, and that +they give me no little uneasiness - I know that he kept very strange +company when he was in Ireland; people of evil report, of whom terrible +things were said - horse-witches and the like. I questioned him +once or twice upon the matter, and even threatened him, but it was of +no use; he put on a look as if he did not understand me, a regular Irish +look, just such a one as those rascals assume when they wish to appear +all innocence and simplicity, and they full of malice and deceit all +the time. I don’t like them; they are no friends to old +England, or its old king, God bless him! They are not good subjects, +and never were; always in league with foreign enemies. When I +was in the Coldstream, long before the Revolution, I used to hear enough +about the Irish brigades kept by the French kings, to be a thorn in +the side of the English whenever opportunity served. Old Sergeant +Meredith once told me that in the time of the Pretender there were always, +in London alone, a dozen of fellows connected with these brigades, with +the view of seducing the king’s soldiers from their allegiance, +and persuading them to desert to France to join the honest Irish, as +they were called. One of these traitors once accosted him and +proposed the matter to him, offering handfuls of gold if he could induce +any of his comrades to go over. Meredith appeared to consent, +but secretly gave information to his colonel; the fellow was seized, +and certain traitorous papers found upon him; he was hanged before Newgate, +and died exulting in his treason. His name was Michael Nowlan. +That ever son of mine should have been intimate with the Papist Irish, +and have learnt their language!’<br> +<br> +‘But he thinks of other things now,’ said my mother.<br> +<br> +‘Other languages, you mean,’ said my father. ‘It +is strange that he has conceived such a zest for the study of languages; +no sooner did he come home than he persuaded me to send him to that +old priest to learn French and Italian, and, if I remember right, you +abetted him; but, as I said before, it is in the nature of women invariably +to take the part of the second-born. Well, there is no harm in +learning French and Italian, perhaps much good in his case, as they +may drive the other tongue out of his head. Irish! why, he might +go to the university but for that; but how would he look when, on being +examined with respect to his attainments, it was discovered that he +understood Irish? How did you learn it? they would ask him; how +did you become acquainted with the language of Papists and rebels? +The boy would be sent away in disgrace.’<br> +<br> +‘Be under no apprehension, I have no doubt that he has long since +forgotten it.’<br> +<br> +‘I am glad to hear it,’ said my father; ‘for, between +ourselves, I love the poor child; ay, quite as well as my first-born. +I trust they will do well, and that God will be their shield and guide; +I have no doubt He will, for I have read something in the Bible to that +effect. What is that text about the young ravens being fed?’<br> +<br> +‘I know a better than that,’ said my mother; ‘one +of David’s own words, “I have been young and now am grown +old, yet never have I seen the righteous man forsaken, or his seed begging +their bread.”’<br> +<br> +I have heard talk of the pleasures of idleness, yet it is my own firm +belief that no one ever yet took pleasure in it. Mere idleness +is the most disagreeable state of existence, and both mind and body +are continually making efforts to escape from it. It has been +said that idleness is the parent of mischief, which is very true; but +mischief itself is merely an attempt to escape from the dreary vacuum +of idleness. There are many tasks and occupations which a man +is unwilling to perform, but let no one think that he is therefore in +love with idleness; he turns to something which is more agreeable to +his inclination, and doubtless more suited to his nature; but he is +not in love with idleness. A boy may play the truant from school +because he dislikes books and study; but, depend upon it, he intends +doing something the while - to go fishing, or perhaps to take a walk; +and who knows but that from such excursions both his mind and body may +derive more benefit than from books and school? Many people go +to sleep to escape from idleness; the Spaniards do; and, according to +the French account, John Bull, the ’squire, hangs himself in the +month of November; but the French, who are a very sensible people, attribute +the action <i>à une grande envie de se désennuyer</i>; +he wishes to be doing something, say they, and having nothing better +to do, he has recourse to the cord.<br> +<br> +It was for want of something better to do that, shortly after my return +home, I applied myself to the study of languages. By the acquisition +of Irish, with the first elements of which I had become acquainted under +the tuition of Murtagh, I had contracted a certain zest and inclination +for the pursuit. Yet it is probable that had I been launched about +this time into some agreeable career, that of arms for example, for +which, being the son of a soldier, I had, as was natural, a sort of +penchant, I might have thought nothing more of the acquisition of tongues +of any kind; but, having nothing to do, I followed the only course suited +to my genius which appeared open to me.<br> +<br> +So it came to pass that one day, whilst wandering listlessly about the +streets of the old town, I came to a small book-stall, and stopping, +commenced turning over the books; I took up at least a dozen, and almost +instantly flung them down. What were they to me? At last, +coming to a thick volume, I opened it, and after inspecting its contents +for a few minutes, I paid for it what was demanded, and forthwith carried +it home.<br> +<br> +It was a tessaraglot grammar; a strange old book, printed somewhere +in Holland, which pretended to be an easy guide to the acquirement of +the French, Italian, Low Dutch, and English tongues, by means of which +any one conversant in any one of these languages could make himself +master of the other three. I turned my attention to the French +and Italian. The old book was not of much value; I derived some +benefit from it, however, and, conning it intensely, at the end of a +few weeks obtained some insight into the structure of these two languages. +At length I had learnt all that the book was capable of informing me, +yet was still far from the goal to which it had promised to conduct +me. ‘I wish I had a master!’ I exclaimed; and the +master was at hand. In an old court of the old town lived a certain +elderly personage, perhaps sixty, or thereabouts; he was rather tall, +and something of a robust make, with a countenance in which bluffness +was singularly blended with vivacity and grimace; and with a complexion +which would have been ruddy, but for a yellow hue which rather predominated. +His dress consisted of a snuff-coloured coat and drab pantaloons, the +former evidently seldom subjected to the annoyance of a brush, and the +latter exhibiting here and there spots of something which, if not grease, +bore a strong resemblance to it; add to these articles an immense frill, +seldom of the purest white, but invariably of the finest French cambric, +and you have some idea of his dress. He had rather a remarkable +stoop, but his step was rapid and vigorous, and as he hurried along +the streets, he would glance to the right and left with a pair of big +eyes like plums, and on recognising any one would exalt a pair of grizzled +eyebrows, and slightly kiss a tawny and ungloved hand. At certain +hours of the day be might be seen entering the doors of female boarding-schools, +generally with a book in his hand, and perhaps another just peering +from the orifice of a capacious back pocket; and at a certain season +of the year he might be seen, dressed in white, before the altar of +a certain small popish chapel, chanting from the breviary in very intelligible +Latin, or perhaps reading from the desk in utterly unintelligible English. +Such was my preceptor in the French and Italian tongues. ‘Exul +sacerdos; vone banished priest. I came into England twenty-five +year ago, “my dear.”’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Monsieur Dante - Condemned musket - Sporting - Sweet rivulet - The Earl’s +Home - The pool - The sonorous voice - What dost thou read? - Man of +peace - Zohar and Mishna - Money-changers.<br> +<br> +So I studied French and Italian under the tuition of the banished priest, +to whose house I went regularly every evening to receive instruction. +I made considerable progress in the acquisition of the two languages. +I found the French by far the most difficult, chiefly on account of +the accent, which my master himself possessed in no great purity, being +a Norman by birth. The Italian was my favourite.<br> +<br> +‘Vous serez un jour un grand philologue, mon cher,’ said +the old man, on our arriving at the conclusion of Dante’s Hell.<br> +<br> +‘I hope I shall be something better,’ said I, ‘before +I die, or I shall have lived to little purpose.’<br> +<br> +‘That’s true, my dear! philologist - one small poor dog. +What would you wish to be?’<br> +<br> +‘Many things sooner than that; for example, I would rather be +like him who wrote this book.’<br> +<br> +‘Quoi, Monsieur Dante? He was a vagabond, my dear, forced +to fly from his country. No, my dear, if you would be like one +poet, be like Monsieur Boileau; he is the poet.’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t think so.’<br> +<br> +‘How, not think so? He wrote very respectable verses; lived +and died much respected by everybody. T’other, one bad dog, +forced to fly from his country - died with not enough to pay his undertaker.’<br> +<br> +‘Were you not forced to flee from your country?’<br> +<br> +‘That very true; but there is much difference between me and this +Dante. He fled from country because he had one bad tongue which +he shook at his betters. I fly because benefice gone, and head +going; not on account of the badness of my tongue.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘you can return now; the Bourbons +are restored.’<br> +<br> +‘I find myself very well here; not bad country. Il est vrai +que la France sera toujours la France; but all are dead there who knew +me. I find myself very well here. Preach in popish chapel, +teach schismatic, that is Protestant, child tongues and literature. +I find myself very well; and why? Because I know how to govern +my tongue; never call people hard names. Ma foi, il y a beaucoup +de différence entre moi et ce sacre de Dante.’<br> +<br> +Under this old man, who was well versed in the southern languages, besides +studying French and Italian, I acquired some knowledge of Spanish. +But I did not devote my time entirely to philology; I had other pursuits. +I had not forgotten the roving life I had led in former days, nor its +delights; neither was I formed by Nature to be a pallid indoor student. +No, no! I was fond of other and, I say it boldly, better things +than study. I had an attachment to the angle, ay, and to the gun +likewise. In our house was a condemned musket, bearing somewhere +on its lock, in rather antique characters, ‘Tower, 1746’; +with this weapon I had already, in Ireland, performed some execution +among the rooks and choughs, and it was now again destined to be a source +of solace and amusement to me, in the winter season, especially on occasions +of severe frost when birds abounded. Sallying forth with it at +these times, far into the country, I seldom returned at night without +a string of bullfinches, blackbirds, and linnets hanging in triumph +round my neck. When I reflect on the immense quantity of powder +and shot which I crammed down the muzzle of my uncouth fowling-piece, +I am less surprised at the number of birds which I slaughtered than +that I never blew my hands, face, and old honeycombed gun, it one and +the same time, to pieces.<br> +<br> +But the winter, alas! (I speak as a fowler) seldom lasts in England +more than three or four months; so, during the rest of the year, when +not occupied with my philological studies, I had to seek for other diversions. +I have already given a hint that I was also addicted to the angle. +Of course there is no comparison between the two pursuits, the rod and +line seeming but very poor trumpery to one who has had the honour of +carrying a noble firelock. There is a time, however, for all things; +and we return to any favourite amusement with the greater zest, from +being compelled to relinquish it for a season. So, if I shot birds +in winter with my firelock, I caught fish in summer, or attempted so +to do, with my angle. I was not quite so successful, it is true, +with the latter as with the former; possibly because it afforded me +less pleasure. It was, indeed, too much of a listless pastime +to inspire me with any great interest. I not unfrequently fell +into a doze, whilst sitting on the bank, and more than once let my rod +drop from my hands into the water.<br> +<br> +At some distance from the city, behind a range of hilly ground which +rises towards the south-west, is a small river, the waters of which, +after many meanderings, eventually enter the principal river of the +district, and assist to swell the tide which it rolls down to the ocean. +It is a sweet rivulet, and pleasant is it to trace its course from its +spring-head, high up in the remote regions of Eastern Anglia, till it +arrives in the valley behind yon rising ground; and pleasant is that +valley, truly a goodly spot, but most lovely where yonder bridge crosses +the little stream. Beneath its arch the waters rush garrulously +into a blue pool, and are there stilled, for a time, for the pool is +deep, and they appear to have sunk to sleep. Farther on, however, +you hear their voice again, where they ripple gaily over yon gravelly +shallow. On the left, the hill slopes gently down to the margin +of the stream. On the right is a green level, a smiling meadow, +grass of the richest decks the side of the slope; mighty trees also +adorn it, giant elms, the nearest of which, when the sun is nigh its +meridian, fling a broad shadow upon the face of the pool; through yon +vista you catch a glimpse of the ancient brick of an old English hall. +It has a stately look, that old building, indistinctly seen, as it is, +among those umbrageous trees; you might almost suppose it an earl’s +home; and such it was, or rather upon its site stood an earl’s +home, in days of old, for there some old Kemp, some Sigurd or Thorkild, +roaming in quest of a hearthstead, settled down in the gray old time, +when Thor and Freya were yet gods, and Odin was a portentous name. +Yon old hall is still called the Earl’s Home, though the hearth +of Sigurd is now no more, and the bones of the old Kemp, and of Sigrith +his dame, have been mouldering for a thousand years in some neighbouring +knoll; perhaps yonder, where those tall Norwegian pines shoot up so +boldly into the air. It is said that the old earl’s galley +was once moored where is now that blue pool, for the waters of that +valley were not always sweet; yon valley was once an arm of the sea, +a salt lagoon, to which the war-barks of ‘Sigurd, in search of +a home,’ found their way.<br> +<br> +I was in the habit of spending many an hour on the banks of that rivulet, +with my rod in my hand, and, when tired with angling, would stretch +myself on the grass, and gaze upon the waters as they glided past, and +not unfrequently, divesting myself of my dress, I would plunge into +the deep pool which I have already mentioned, for I had long since learned +to swim. And it came to pass that on one hot summer’s day, +after bathing in the pool, I passed along the meadow till I came to +a shallow part, and, wading over to the opposite side, I adjusted my +dress, and commenced fishing in another pool, beside which was a small +clump of hazels.<br> +<br> +And there I sat upon the bank, at the bottom of the hill which slopes +down from ‘the Earl’s home’; my float was on the waters, +and my back was towards the old hall. I drew up many fish, small +and great, which I took from off the hook mechanically, and flung upon +the bank, for I was almost unconscious of what I was about, for my mind +was not with my fish. I was thinking of my earlier years - of +the Scottish crags and the heaths of Ireland - and sometimes my mind +would dwell on my studies - on the sonorous stanzas of Dante, rising +and falling like the waves of the sea - or would strive to remember +a couplet or two of poor Monsieur Boileau.<br> +<br> +‘Canst thou answer to thy conscience for pulling all those fish +out of the water, and leaving them to gasp in the sun?’ said a +voice, clear and sonorous as a bell.<br> +<br> +I started, and looked round. Close behind me stood the tall figure +of a man, dressed in raiment of quaint and singular fashion, but of +goodly materials. He was in the prime and vigour of manhood; his +features handsome and noble, but full of calmness and benevolence; at +least I thought so, though they were somewhat shaded by a hat of finest +beaver, with broad drooping eaves.<br> +<br> +‘Surely that is a very cruel diversion in which thou indulgest, +my young friend?’ he continued.<br> +<br> +‘I am sorry for it, if it be, sir,’ said I, rising; ‘but +I do not think it cruel to fish.’<br> +<br> +‘What are thy reasons for not thinking so?’<br> +<br> +‘Fishing is mentioned frequently in Scripture. Simon Peter +was a fisherman.’<br> +<br> +‘True; and Andrew and his brother. But thou forgettest: +they did not follow fishing as a diversion, as I fear thou doest. - +Thou readest the Scriptures?’<br> +<br> +‘Sometimes.’<br> +<br> +‘Sometimes? - not daily? - that is to be regretted. What +profession dost thou make? - I mean to what religious denomination dost +thou belong, my young friend.’<br> +<br> +‘Church?’<br> +<br> +‘It is a very good profession - there is much of Scripture contained +in its liturgy. Dost thou read aught besides the Scriptures?’<br> +<br> +‘Sometimes.’<br> +<br> +‘What dost thou read besides?’<br> +<br> +‘Greek, and Dante.’<br> +<br> +‘Indeed! then thou hast the advantage over myself; I can only +read the former. Well, I am rejoiced to find that thou hast other +pursuits beside thy fishing. Dost thou know Hebrew?’<br> +<br> +‘No.’<br> +<br> +‘Thou shouldst study it. Why dost thou not undertake the +study?’<br> +<br> +‘I have no books.’<br> +<br> +‘I will lend thee books, if thou wish to undertake the study. +I live yonder at the hall, as perhaps thou knowest. I have a library +there, in which are many curious books, both in Greek and Hebrew, which +I will show to thee, whenever thou mayest find it convenient to come +and see me. Farewell! I am glad to find that thou hast pursuits +more satisfactory than thy cruel fishing.’<br> +<br> +And the man of peace departed, and left me on the bank of the stream. +Whether from the effect of his words, or from want of inclination to +the sport, I know not, but from that day I became less and less a practitioner +of that ‘cruel fishing.’ I rarely flung line and angle +into the water, but I not unfrequently wandered by the banks of the +pleasant rivulet. It seems singular to me, on reflection, that +I never availed myself of his kind invitation. I say singular, +for the extraordinary, under whatever form, had long had no slight interest +for me; and I had discernment enough to perceive that yon was no common +man. Yet I went not near him, certainly not from bashfulness or +timidity, feelings to which I had long been an entire stranger. +Am I to regret this? perhaps, for I might have learned both wisdom and +righteousness from those calm, quiet lips, and my after-course might +have been widely different. As it was, I fell in with other guess +companions, from whom I received widely different impressions than those +I might have derived from him. When many years had rolled on, +long after I had attained manhood, and had seen and suffered much, and +when our first interview had long since been effaced from the mind of +the man of peace, I visited him in his venerable hall, and partook of +the hospitality of his hearth. And there I saw his gentle partner +and his fair children, and on the morrow he showed me the books of which +he had spoken years before by the side of the stream. In the low +quiet chamber, whose one window, shaded by a gigantic elm, looks down +the slope towards the pleasant stream, he took from the shelf his learned +books, Zohar and Mishna, Toldoth Jesu and Abarbenel. ‘I +am fond of these studies,’ said he, ‘which, perhaps, is +not to be wondered at, seeing that our people have been compared to +the Jews. In one respect I confess we are similar to them; we +are fond of getting money. I do not like this last author, this +Abarbenel, the worse for having been a money-changer. I am a banker +myself, as thou knowest.’<br> +<br> +And would there were many like him, amidst the money-changers of princes! +The hall of many an earl lacks the bounty, the palace of many a prelate +the piety and learning, which adorn the quiet quaker’s home!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XVI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Fair of horses - Looks of respect - The fast trotter - Pair of eyes +- Strange men - Jasper, your pal - Force of blood - Young lady with +diamonds - Not quite so beautiful.<br> +<br> +I was standing on the castle hill in the midst of a fair of horses.<br> +<br> +I have already had occasion to mention this castle. It is the +remains of what was once a Norman stronghold, and is perched upon a +round mound or monticle, in the midst of the old city. Steep is +this mound and scarped, evidently by the hand of man; a deep gorge over +which is flung a bridge, separates it, on the south, from a broad swell +of open ground called ‘the hill’; of old the scene of many +a tournament and feat of Norman chivalry, but now much used as a show-place +for cattle, where those who buy and sell beeves and other beasts resort +at stated periods.<br> +<br> +So it came to pass that I stood upon this hill, observing a fair of +horses.<br> +<br> +The reader is already aware that I had long since conceived a passion +for the equine race; a passion in which circumstances had of late not +permitted me to indulge. I had no horses to ride, but I took pleasure +in looking at them; and I had already attended more than one of these +fairs: the present was lively enough, indeed horse fairs are seldom +dull. There was shouting and whooping, neighing and braying; there +was galloping and trotting; fellows with highlows and white stockings, +and with many a string dangling from the knees of their tight breeches, +were running desperately, holding horses by the halter, and in some +cases dragging them along; there were long-tailed steeds and dock-tailed +steeds of every degree and breed; there were droves of wild ponies, +and long rows of sober cart horses; there were donkeys, and even mules: +the last rare things to be seen in damp, misty England, for the mule +pines in mud and rain, and thrives best with a hot sun above and a burning +sand below. There were - oh, the gallant creatures! I hear +their neigh upon the wind; there were - goodliest sight of all - certain +enormous quadrupeds only seen to perfection in our native isle, led +about by dapper grooms, their manes ribanded and their tails curiously +clubbed and balled. Ha! ha! - how distinctly do they say, ha! +ha!<br> +<br> +An old man draws nigh, he is mounted on a lean pony, and he leads by +the bridle one of these animals; nothing very remarkable about that +creature, unless in being smaller than the rest and gentle, which they +are not; he is not of the sightliest look; he is almost dun, and over +one eye a thick film has gathered. But stay! there <i>is</i> something +remarkable about that horse, there is something in his action in which +he differs from all the rest: as he advances, the clamour is hushed! +all eyes are turned upon him - what looks of interest - of respect - +and, what is this? people are taking off their hats - surely not to +that steed! Yes, verily! men, especially old men, are taking off +their hats to that one-eyed steed, and I hear more than one deep-drawn +ah!<br> +<br> +‘What horse is that?’ said I to a very old fellow, the counterpart +of the old man on the pony, save that the last wore a faded suit of +velveteen, and this one was dressed in a white frock.<br> +<br> +‘The best in mother England,’ said the very old man, taking +a knobbed stick from his mouth, and looking me in the face, at first +carelessly, but presently with something like interest; ‘he is +old like myself, but can still trot his twenty miles an hour. +You won’t live long, my swain; tall and over-grown ones like thee +never does; yet, if you should chance to reach my years, you may boast +to thy great-grand-boys thou hast seen Marshland Shales.’<br> +<br> +Amain I did for the horse what I would neither do for earl nor baron, +doffed my hat; yes! I doffed my hat to the wondrous horse, the fast +trotter, the best in mother England; and I too drew a deep ah! and repeated +the words of the old fellows around. ‘Such a horse as this +we shall never see again; a pity that he is so old.’<br> +<br> +Now during all this time I had a kind of consciousness that I had been +the object of some person’s observation; that eyes were fastened +upon me from somewhere in the crowd. Sometimes I thought myself +watched from before, sometimes from behind; and occasionally methought +that, if I just turned my head to the right or left, I should meet a +peering and inquiring glance; and indeed once or twice I did turn, expecting +to see somebody whom I knew, yet always without success; though it appeared +to me that I was but a moment too late, and that some one had just slipped +away from the direction to which I turned, like the figure in a magic +lanthorn. Once I was quite sure that there were a pair of eyes +glaring over my right shoulder; my attention, however, was so fully +occupied with the objects which I have attempted to describe, that I +thought very little of this coming and going, this flitting and dodging +of I knew not whom or what. It was, after all, a matter of sheer +indifference to me who was looking at me. I could only wish whomsoever +it might be to be more profitably employed; so I continued enjoying +what I saw; and now there was a change in the scene, the wondrous old +horse departed with his aged guardian; other objects of interest are +at hand; two or three men on horseback are hurrying through the crowd, +they are widely different in their appearance from the other people +of the fair; not so much in dress, for they are clad something after +the fashion of rustic jockeys, but in their look - no light-brown hair +have they, no ruddy cheeks, no blue quiet glances belong to them; their +features are dark, their locks long, black, and shining, and their eyes +are wild; they are admirable horsemen, but they do not sit the saddle +in the manner of common jockeys, they seem to float or hover upon it, +like gulls upon the waves; two of them are mere striplings, but the +third is a very tall man with a countenance heroically beautiful, but +wild, wild, wild. As they rush along, the crowd give way on all +sides, and now a kind of ring or circus is formed, within which the +strange men exhibit their horsemanship, rushing past each other, in +and out, after the manner of a reel, the tall man occasionally balancing +himself upon the saddle, and standing erect on one foot. He had +just regained his seat after the latter feat, and was about to push +his horse to a gallop, when a figure started forward close from beside +me, and laying his hand on his neck, and pulling him gently downward, +appeared to whisper something into his ear; presently the tall man raised +his head, and, scanning the crowd for a moment in the direction in which +I was standing, fixed his eyes full upon me, and anon the countenance +of the whisperer was turned, but only in part, and the side-glance of +another pair of wild eyes was directed towards my face, but the entire +visage of the big black man, half stooping as he was, was turned full +upon mine.<br> +<br> +But now, with a nod to the figure who had stopped him, and with another +inquiring glance at myself, the big man once more put his steed into +motion, and, after riding round the ring a few more times, darted through +a lane in the crowd, and followed by his two companions disappeared, +whereupon the figure who had whispered to him, and had subsequently +remained in the middle of the space, came towards me, and, cracking +a whip which he held in his hand so loudly that the report was nearly +equal to that of a pocket pistol, he cried in a strange tone:<br> +<br> +‘What! the sap-engro? Lor! the sap-engro upon the hill!’<br> +<br> +‘I remember that word,’ said I, ‘and I almost think +I remember you. You can’t be - ’<br> +<br> +‘Jasper, your pal! Truth, and no lie, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘It is strange that you should have known me,’ said I. +‘I am certain, but for the word you used, I should never have +recognised you.’<br> +<br> +‘Not so strange as you may think, brother; there is something +in your face which would prevent people from forgetting you, even though +they might wish it; and your face is not much altered since the time +you wot of, though you are so much grown. I thought it was you, +but to make sure I dodged about, inspecting you. I believe you +felt me, though I never touched you; a sign, brother, that we are akin, +that we are dui palor - two relations. Your blood beat when mine +was near, as mine always does at the coming of a brother; and we became +brothers in that lane.’<br> +<br> +‘And where are you staying?’ said I; ‘in this town?’<br> +<br> +‘Not in the town; the like of us don’t find it exactly wholesome +to stay in towns, we keep abroad. But I have little to do here +- come with me, and I’ll show you where we stay.’<br> +<br> +We descended the hill in the direction of the north, and passing along +the suburb reached the old Norman bridge, which we crossed; the chalk +precipice, with the ruin on its top, was now before us; but turning +to the left we walked swiftly along, and presently came to some rising +ground, which ascending, we found ourselves upon a wild moor or heath.<br> +<br> +‘You are one of them,’ said I, ‘whom people call - +’<br> +<br> +‘Just so,’ said Jasper; ‘but never mind what people +call us.’<br> +<br> +‘And that tall handsome man on the hill, whom you whispered? +I suppose he’s one of ye. What is his name?’<br> +<br> +‘Tawno Chikno,’ said Jasper, ‘which means the small +one; we call him such because he is the biggest man of all our nation. +You say he is handsome, that is not the word, brother; he’s the +beauty of the world. Women run wild at the sight of Tawno. +An earl’s daughter, near London - a fine young lady with diamonds +round her neck - fell in love with Tawno. I have seen that lass +on a heath, as this may be, kneel down to Tawno, clasp his feet, begging +to be his wife - or anything else - if she might go with him. +But Tawno would have nothing to do with her: “I have a wife of +my own,” said he, “a lawful rommany wife, whom I love better +than the whole world, jealous though she sometimes be.”’<br> +<br> +‘And is she very beautiful?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Why, you know, brother, beauty is frequently a matter of taste; +however, as you ask my opinion, I should say not quite so beautiful +as himself.’<br> +<br> +We had now arrived at a small valley between two hills, or downs, the +sides of which were covered with furze; in the midst of this valley +were various carts and low tents forming a rude kind of encampment; +several dark children were playing about, who took no manner of notice +of us. As we passed one of the tents, however, a canvas screen +was lifted up, and a woman supported upon a crutch hobbled out. +She was about the middle age, and, besides being lame, was bitterly +ugly; she was very slovenly dressed, and on her swarthy features ill +nature was most visibly stamped. She did not deign me a look, +but, addressing Jasper in a tongue which I did not understand, appeared +to put some eager questions to him.<br> +<br> +‘He’s coming,’ said Jasper, and passed on. ‘Poor +fellow,’ said he to me, ‘he has scarcely been gone an hour, +and she’s jealous already. Well,’ he continued, ‘what +do you think of her? you have seen her now, and can judge for yourself +- that ‘ere woman is Tawno Chikno’s wife!’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XVII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The tent - Pleasant discourse - I am Pharaoh - Shifting for one’s +self - Horse-shoes - This is wonderful - Bless your wisdom - A +pretty manoeuvre - Ill day to the Romans - My name is Herne - Singular +people - An original speech - Word-master - Speaking Romanly.<br> +<br> +We went to the farthest of the tents, which stood at a slight distance +from the rest, and which exactly resembled the one which I have described +on a former occasion; we went in and sat down one on each side of a +small fire, which was smouldering on the ground, there was no one else +in the tent but a tall tawny woman of middle age, who was busily knitting. +‘Brother,’ said Jasper, ‘I wish to hold some pleasant +discourse with you.’<br> +<br> +‘As much as you please,’ said I, ‘provided you can +find anything pleasant to talk about.’<br> +<br> +‘Never fear,’ said Jasper; ‘and first of all we will +talk of yourself. Where have you been all this long time?’<br> +<br> +‘Here and there,’ said I, ‘and far and near, going +about with the soldiers; but there is no soldiering now, so we have +sat down, father and family, in the town there.’<br> +<br> +‘And do you still hunt snakes?’ said Jasper.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘I have given up that long ago; I do +better now: read books and learn languages.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, I am sorry you have given up your snake-hunting, many’s +the strange talk I have had with our people about your snake and yourself, +and how you frightened my father and mother in the lane.’<br> +<br> +‘And where are your father and mother?’<br> +<br> +‘Where I shall never see them, brother; at least, I hope so.’<br> +<br> +‘Not dead?’<br> +<br> +‘No, not dead; they are bitchadey pawdel.’<br> +<br> +‘What’s that?’<br> +<br> +‘Sent across - banished.’<br> +<br> +‘Ah! I understand; I am sorry for them. And so you are here +alone?’<br> +<br> +‘Not quite alone, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘No, not alone; but with the rest - Tawno Chikno takes care of +you.’<br> +<br> +‘Takes care of me, brother!’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, stands to you in the place of a father - keeps you out of +harm’s way.’<br> +<br> +‘What do you take me for, brother?’<br> +<br> +‘For about three years older than myself.’<br> +<br> +‘Perhaps; but you are of the Gorgios, and I am a Rommany Chal. +Tawno Chikno take care of Jasper Petulengro!’<br> +<br> +‘Is that your name?’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t you like it?’<br> +<br> +‘Very much, I never heard a sweeter; it is something like what +you call me.’<br> +<br> +‘The horse-shoe master and the snake-fellow, I am the first.’<br> +<br> +‘Who gave you that name?’<br> +<br> +‘Ask Pharaoh.’<br> +<br> +‘I would, if he were here, but I do not see him.’<br> +<br> +‘I am Pharaoh.’<br> +<br> +‘Then you are a king.’<br> +<br> +‘Chachipen Pal.’<br> +<br> +‘I do not understand you.’<br> +<br> +‘Where are your languages? You want two things, brother: +mother sense, and gentle Rommany.’<br> +<br> +‘What makes you think that I want sense?’<br> +<br> +‘That, being so old, you can’t yet guide yourself!’<br> +<br> +‘I can read Dante, Jasper.’<br> +<br> +‘Anan, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘I can charm snakes, Jasper.’<br> +<br> +‘I know you can, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, and horses too; bring me the most vicious in the land, if +I whisper he’ll be tame.’<br> +<br> +‘Then the more shame for you - a snake-fellow - a horse-witch +- and a lil-reader - yet you can’t shift for yourself. I +laugh at you, brother!’<br> +<br> +‘Then you can shift for yourself?’<br> +<br> +‘For myself and for others, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘And what does Chikno?’<br> +<br> +‘Sells me horses, when I bid him. Those horses on the chong +were mine.’<br> +<br> +‘And has he none of his own?’<br> +<br> +‘Sometimes he has; but he is not so well off as myself. +When my father and mother were bitchadey pawdel, which, to tell you +the truth, they were for chiving wafodo dloovu, they left me all they +had, which was not a little, and I became the head of our family, which +was not a small one. I was not older than you when that happened; +yet our people said they had never a better krallis to contrive and +plan for them, and to keep them in order. And this is so well +known that many Rommany Chals, not of our family, come and join themselves +to us, living with us for a time, in order to better themselves, more +especially those of the poorer sort, who have little of their own. +Tawno is one of these.’<br> +<br> +‘Is that fine fellow poor?’<br> +<br> +‘One of the poorest, brother. Handsome as he is, he has +not a horse of his own to ride on. Perhaps we may put it down +to his wife, who cannot move about, being a cripple, as you saw.’<br> +<br> +‘And you are what is called a Gypsy King?’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, ay; a Rommany Kral.’<br> +<br> +‘Are there other kings?’<br> +<br> +‘Those who call themselves so; but the true Pharaoh is Petulengro.’<br> +<br> +‘Did Pharaoh make horse-shoes?’<br> +<br> +‘The first who ever did, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Pharaoh lived in Egypt.’<br> +<br> +‘So did we once, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘And you left it?’<br> +<br> +‘My fathers did, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘And why did they come here?’<br> +<br> +‘They had their reasons, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘And you are not English?’<br> +<br> +‘We are not gorgios.’<br> +<br> +‘And you have a language of your own?’<br> +<br> +‘Avali.’<br> +<br> +‘This is wonderful.’<br> +<br> +‘Ha, ha!’ cried the woman, who had hitherto sat knitting, +at the farther end of the tent, without saying a word, though not inattentive +to our conversation, as I could perceive by certain glances which she +occasionally cast upon us both. ‘Ha, ha!’ she screamed, +fixing upon me two eyes, which shone like burning coals, and which were +filled with an expression both of scorn and malignity, ‘It is +wonderful, is it, that we should have a language of our own? What, +you grudge the poor people the speech they talk among themselves? +That’s just like you gorgios; you would have everybody stupid, +single-tongued idiots, like yourselves. We are taken before the +Poknees of the gav, myself and sister, to give an account of ourselves. +So I says to my sister’s little boy, speaking Rommany, I says +to the little boy who is with us, Run to my son Jasper, and the rest, +and tell them to be off, there are hawks abroad. So the Poknees +questions us, and lets us go, not being able to make anything of us; +but, as we are going, he calls us back. “Good woman,” +says the Poknees, “what was that I heard you say just now to the +little boy?” “I was telling him, your worship, to +go and see the time of day, and to save trouble, I said it in our language.” +“Where did you get that language?” says the Poknees. +“’Tis our own language, sir,” I tells him, “we +did not steal it.” “Shall I tell you what it is, my +good woman?” says the Poknees. “I would thank you, +sir,” says I, “for ’tis often we are asked about it.” +“Well, then,” says the Poknees, “it is no language +at all, merely a made-up gibberish.” “Oh, bless your +wisdom,” says I, with a curtsey, “you can tell us what our +language is, without understanding it!” Another time we +meet a parson. “Good woman,” says he, “what’s +that you are talking? Is it broken language?” “Of +course, your reverence,” says I, “we are broken people; +give a shilling, your reverence, to the poor broken woman.” +Oh, these gorgios! they grudge us our very language!’<br> +<br> +‘She called you her son, Jasper?’<br> +<br> +‘I am her son, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘I thought you said your parents were - ’<br> +<br> +‘Bitchadey pawdel; you thought right, brother. This is my +wife’s mother.’<br> +<br> +‘Then you are married, Jasper?’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, truly; I am husband and father. You will see wife and +chabo anon.’<br> +<br> +‘Where are they now?’<br> +<br> +‘In the gav, penning dukkerin.’<br> +<br> +‘We were talking of language, Jasper?’<br> +<br> +‘True, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Yours must be a rum one?’<br> +<br> +‘’Tis called Rommany.’<br> +<br> +‘I would gladly know it.’<br> +<br> +‘You need it sorely.’<br> +<br> +‘Would you teach it me?’<br> +<br> +‘None sooner.’<br> +<br> +‘Suppose we begin now?’<br> +<br> +‘Suppose we do, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Not whilst I am here,’ said the woman, flinging her knitting +down, and starting upon her feet; ‘not whilst I am here shall +this gorgio learn Rommany. A pretty manoeuvre, truly; and what +would be the end of it? I goes to the farming ker with my sister, +to tell a fortune, and earn a few sixpences for the chabes. I +sees a jolly pig in the yard, and I says to my sister, speaking Rommany, +“Do so and so,” says I; which the farming man hearing, asks +what we are talking about. “Nothing at all, master,” says +I; “something about the weather”; when who should start +up from behind a pale, where he has been listening, but this ugly gorgio, +crying out, “They are after poisoning your pigs, neighbour!” +so that we are glad to run, I and my sister, with perhaps the farm-engro +shouting after us. Says my sister to me, when we have got fairly +off, “How came that ugly one to know what you said to me?” +Whereupon I answers, “It all comes of my son Jasper, who brings +the gorgio to our fire, and must needs be teaching him.” +“Who was fool there?” says my sister. “Who, +indeed, but my son Jasper,” I answers. And here should I +be a greater fool to sit still and suffer it; which I will not do. +I do not like the look of him; he looks over-gorgeous. An ill +day to the Romans when he masters Rommany; and, when I says that, I +pens a true dukkerin.’<br> +<br> +‘What do you call God, Jasper?’<br> +<br> +‘You had better be jawing,’ said the woman, raising her +voice to a terrible scream; ‘you had better be moving off, my +gorgio; hang you for a keen one, sitting there by the fire, and stealing +my language before my face. Do you know whom you have to deal +with? Do you know that I am dangerous? My name is Herne, +and I comes of the hairy ones!’<br> +<br> +And a hairy one she looked! She wore her hair clubbed upon her +head, fastened with many strings and ligatures; but now, tearing these +off, her locks, originally jet black, but now partially grizzled with +age, fell down on every side of her, covering her face and back as far +down as her knees. No she-bear of Lapland ever looked more fierce +and hairy than did that woman, as standing in the open part of the tent, +with her head bent down, and her shoulders drawn up, seemingly about +to precipitate herself upon me, she repeated, again and again, -<br> +<br> +‘My name is Herne, and I comes of the hairy ones! - ’<br> +<br> +‘I call God Duvel, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘It sounds very like Devil.’<br> +<br> +‘It doth, brother, it doth.’<br> +<br> +‘And what do you call divine, I mean godly?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh! I call that duvelskoe.’<br> +<br> +‘I am thinking of something, Jasper.’<br> +<br> +‘What are you thinking of, brother?’<br> +<br> +‘Would it not be a rum thing if divine and devilish were originally +one and the same word?’<br> +<br> +‘It would, brother, it would - ’<br> +<br> +. . .<br> +<br> +From this time I had frequent interviews with Jasper, sometimes in his +tent, sometimes on the heath, about which we would roam for hours, discoursing +on various matters. Sometimes, mounted on one of his horses, of +which he had several, I would accompany him to various fairs and markets +in the neighbourhood, to which he went on his own affairs, or those +of his tribe. I soon found that I had become acquainted with a +most singular people, whose habits and pursuits awakened within me the +highest interest. Of all connected with them, however, their language +was doubtless that which exercised the greatest influence over my imagination. +I had at first some suspicion that it would prove a mere made-up gibberish; +but I was soon undeceived. Broken, corrupted, and half in ruins +as it was, it was not long before I found that it was an original speech, +far more so, indeed, than one or two others of high name and celebrity, +which, up to that time, I had been in the habit of regarding with respect +and veneration. Indeed many obscure points connected with the +vocabulary of these languages, and to which neither classic nor modern +lore afforded any clue, I thought I could now clear up by means of this +strange broken tongue, spoken by people who dwelt amongst thickets and +furze bushes, in tents as tawny as their faces, and whom the generality +of mankind designated, and with much semblance of justice, as thieves +and vagabonds. But where did this speech come from, and who were +they who spoke it? These were questions which I could not solve, +and which Jasper himself, when pressed, confessed his inability to answer. +‘But, whoever we be, brother,’ said he, ‘we are an +old people, and not what folks in general imagine, broken gorgios; and, +if we are not Egyptians, we are at any rate Rommany Chals!’<br> +<br> +‘Rommany Chals! I should not wonder after all,’ said +I, ‘that these people had something to do with the founding of +Rome. Rome, it is said, was built by vagabonds, who knows but +that some tribe of the kind settled down thereabouts, and called the +town which they built after their name; but whence did they come originally? +ah! there is the difficulty.’<br> +<br> +But abandoning these questions, which at that time were far too profound +for me, I went on studying the language, and at the same time the characters +and manners of these strange people. My rapid progress in the +former astonished, while it delighted, Jasper. ‘We’ll +no longer call you Sap-engro, brother,’ said he; but rather Lav-engro, +which in the language of the gorgios meaneth Word-master.’ +‘Nay, brother,’ said Tawno Chikno, with whom I had become +very intimate, ‘you had better call him Cooro-mengro, I have put +on <i>the gloves</i> with him, and find him a pure fist-master; I like +him for that, for I am a Cooro-mengro myself, and was born at Brummagem.’<br> +<br> +‘I likes him for his modesty,’ said Mrs. Chikno; ‘I +never hears any ill words come from his mouth, but, on the contrary, +much sweet language. His talk is golden, and he has taught my +eldest to say his prayers in Rommany, which my rover had never the grace +to do.’ ‘He is the pal of my rom,’ said Mrs. +Petulengro, who was a very handsome woman, ‘and therefore I likes +him, and not the less for his being a rye; folks calls me high-minded, +and perhaps I have reason to be so; before I married Pharaoh I had an +offer from a lord - I likes the young rye, and, if he chooses to follow +us, he shall have my sister. What say you, mother? should not +the young rye have my sister Ursula?’<br> +<br> +‘I am going to my people,’ said Mrs. Herne, placing a bundle +upon a donkey, which was her own peculiar property; ‘I am going +to Yorkshire, for I can stand this no longer. You say you like +him: in that we differs; I hates the gorgio, and would like, speaking +Romanly, to mix a little poison with his waters. And now go to +Lundra, my children, I goes to Yorkshire. Take my blessing with +ye, and a little bit of a gillie to cheer your hearts with when ye are +weary. In all kinds of weather have we lived together; but now +we are parted. I goes broken-hearted - I can’t keep you +company; ye are no longer Rommany. To gain a bad brother, ye have +lost a good mother.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XVIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +What profession? - Not fitted for a Churchman - Erratic course - The +bitter draught - Principle of woe - Thou wouldst be joyous - What ails +you? - Poor child of clay.<br> +<br> +So the gypsies departed; Mrs. Herne to Yorkshire, and the rest to London: +as for myself, I continued in the house of my parents, passing my time +in much the same manner as I have already described, principally in +philological pursuits; but I was now sixteen, and it was highly necessary +that I should adopt some profession, unless I intended to fritter away +my existence, and to be a useless burden to those who had given me birth; +but what profession was I to choose? there being none in the wide world +perhaps for which I was suited; nor was there any one for which I felt +any decided inclination, though perhaps there existed within me a lurking +penchant for the profession of arms, which was natural enough, as, from +my earliest infancy, I had been accustomed to military sights and sounds; +but this profession was then closed, as I have already hinted, and, +as I believe, it has since continued, to those who, like myself, had +no better claims to urge than the services of a father.<br> +<br> +My father, who, for certain reasons of his own, had no very high opinion +of the advantages resulting from this career, would have gladly seen +me enter the Church. His desire was, however, considerably abated +by one or two passages of my life, which occurred to his recollection. +He particularly dwelt on the unheard-of manner in which I had picked +up the Irish language, and drew from thence the conclusion that I was +not fitted by nature to cut a respectable figure at an English university. +‘He will fly off in a tangent,’ said he, ‘and, when +called upon to exhibit his skill in Greek, will be found proficient +in Irish; I have observed the poor lad attentively, and really do not +know what to make of him; but I am afraid he will never make a churchman!’ +And I have no doubt that my excellent father was right, both in his +premisses and the conclusion at which he arrived. I had undoubtedly, +at one period of my life, forsaken Greek for Irish, and the instructions +of a learned Protestant divine for those of a Papist gossoon, the card-fancying +Murtagh; and of late, though I kept it a strict secret, I had abandoned +in a great measure the study of the beautiful Italian, and the recitation +of the sonorous terzets of the Divine Comedy, in which at one time I +took the greatest delight, in order to become acquainted with the broken +speech, and yet more broken songs, of certain houseless wanderers whom +I had met at a horse fair. Such an erratic course was certainly +by no means in consonance with the sober and unvarying routine of college +study. And my father, who was a man of excellent common sense, +displayed it in not pressing me to adopt a profession which required +qualities of mind which he saw I did not possess.<br> +<br> +Other professions were talked of, amongst which the law; but now an +event occurred which had nearly stopped my career, and merged all minor +points of solicitude in anxiety for my life. My strength and appetite +suddenly deserted me, and I began to pine and droop. Some said +that I had overgrown myself, and that these were the symptoms of a rapid +decline; I grew worse and worse, and was soon stretched upon my bed, +from which it seemed scarcely probable that I should ever more rise, +the physicians themselves giving but slight hopes of my recovery: as +for myself, I made up my mind to die, and felt quite resigned. +I was sadly ignorant at that time, and, when I thought of death, it +appeared to me little else than a pleasant sleep, and I wished for sleep, +of which I got but little. It was well that I did not die that +time, for I repeat that I was sadly ignorant of many important things. +I did not die, for somebody coming gave me a strange, bitter draught; +a decoction, I believe, of a bitter root which grows on commons and +desolate places: and the person who gave it me was an ancient female, +a kind of doctress, who had been my nurse in my infancy, and who, hearing +of my state, had come to see me; so I drank the draught, and became +a little better, and I continued taking draughts made from the bitter +root till I manifested symptoms of convalescence.<br> +<br> +But how much more quickly does strength desert the human frame than +return to it! I had become convalescent, it is true, but my state +of feebleness was truly pitiable. I believe it is in that state +that the most remarkable feature of human physiology frequently exhibits +itself. Oh, how dare I mention the dark feeling of mysterious +dread which comes over the mind, and which the lamp of reason, though +burning bright the while, is unable to dispel! Art thou, as leeches +say, the concomitant of disease - the result of shattered nerves? +Nay, rather the principle of woe itself, the fountain-head of all sorrow +coexistent with man, whose influence he feels when yet unborn, and whose +workings he testifies with his earliest cries, when, ‘drowned +in tears,’ he first beholds the light; for, as the sparks fly +upward, so is man born to trouble, and woe doth he bring with him into +the world, even thyself, dark one, terrible one, causeless, unbegotten, +without a father. Oh, how unfrequently dost thou break down the +barriers which divide thee from the poor soul of man, and overcast its +sunshine with thy gloomy shadow. In the brightest days of prosperity +- in the midst of health and wealth - how sentient is the poor human +creature of thy neighbourhood! how instinctively aware that the flood-gates +of horror may be cast open, and the dark stream engulf him for ever +and ever! Then is it not lawful for man to exclaim, ‘Better +that I had never been born!’ Fool, for thyself thou wast +not born, but to fulfil the inscrutable decrees of thy Creator; and +how dost thou know that this dark principle is not, after all, thy best +friend; that it is not that which tempers the whole mass of thy corruption? +It may be, for what thou knowest, the mother of wisdom, and of great +works: it is the dread of the horror of the night that makes the pilgrim +hasten on his way. When thou feelest it nigh, let thy safety word +be ‘Onward’; if thou tarry, thou art overwhelmed. +Courage! build great works - ’tis urging thee - it is ever nearest +the favourites of God - the fool knows little of it. Thou wouldst +be joyous, wouldst thou? then be a fool. What great work was ever +the result of joy, the puny one? Who have been the wise ones, +the mighty ones, the conquering ones of this earth? the joyous? +I believe not. The fool is happy, or comparatively so - certainly +the least sorrowful, but he is still a fool: and whose notes are sweetest, +those of the nightingale, or of the silly lark?<br> +<br> +‘What ails you, my child?’ said a mother to her son, as +he lay on a couch under the influence of the dreadful one; ‘what +ails you? you seem afraid!’<br> +<br> +<i>Boy</i>. And so I am; a dreadful fear is upon me.<br> +<br> +<i>Mother</i>. But of what? There is no one can harm you; +of what are you apprehensive?<br> +<br> +<i>Boy</i>. Of nothing that I can express; I know not what I am +afraid of, but afraid I am.<br> +<br> +<i>Mother</i>. Perhaps you see sights and visions; I knew a lady +once who was continually thinking that she saw an armed man threaten +her, but it was only an imagination, a phantom of the brain.<br> +<br> +<i>Boy</i>. No armed man threatens me; and ’tis not a thing +like that would cause me any fear. Did an armed man threaten me, +I would get up and fight him; weak as I am, I would wish for nothing +better, for then, perhaps, I should lose this fear; mine is a dread +of I know not what, and there the horror lies.<br> +<br> +<i>Mother</i>. Your forehead is cool, and your speech collected. +Do you know where you are?<br> +<br> +<i>Boy</i>. I know where I am, and I see things just as they are; +you are beside me, and upon the table there is a book which was written +by a Florentine; all this I see, and that there is no ground for being +afraid. I am, moreover, quite cool, and feel no pain - but, but +-<br> +<br> +And then there was a burst of ‘gemiti, sospiri ed alti guai.’ +Alas, alas, poor child of clay! as the sparks fly upward, so wast thou +born to sorrow - Onward!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XIX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Agreeable delusions - Youth - A profession - Ab Gwilym - Glorious English +law - There they pass - My dear old master - The deal desk - Language +of the tents - Where is Morfydd? - Go to - only once.<br> +<br> +It has been said by this or that writer, I scarcely know by whom, that, +in proportion as we grow old, and our time becomes short, the swifter +does it pass, until at last, as we approach the borders of the grave, +it assumes all the speed and impetuosity of a river about to precipitate +itself into an abyss; this is doubtless the case, provided we can carry +to the grave those pleasant thoughts and delusions, which alone render +life agreeable, and to which even to the very last we would gladly cling; +but what becomes of the swiftness of time, when the mind sees the vanity +of human pursuits? which is sure to be the case when its fondest, dearest +hopes have been blighted at the very moment when the harvest was deemed +secure. What becomes from that moment, I repeat, of the shortness +of time? I put not the question to those who have never known +that trial, they are satisfied with themselves and all around them, +with what they have done, and yet hope to do; some carry their delusions +with them to the borders of the grave, ay, to the very moment when they +fall into it; a beautiful golden cloud surrounds them to the last, and +such talk of the shortness of time: through the medium of that cloud +the world has ever been a pleasant world to them; their only regret +is that they are so soon to quit it; but oh, ye dear deluded hearts, +it is not every one who is so fortunate!<br> +<br> +To the generality of mankind there is no period like youth. The +generality are far from fortunate; but the period of youth, even to +the least so, offers moments of considerable happiness, for they are +not only disposed but able to enjoy most things within their reach. +With what trifles at that period are we content; the things from which +in after-life we should turn away in disdain please us then, for we +are in the midst of a golden cloud, and everything seems decked with +a golden hue. Never during any portion of my life did time flow +on more speedily than during the two or three years immediately succeeding +the period to which we arrived in the preceding chapter: since then +it has flagged often enough; sometimes it has seemed to stand entirely +still; and the reader may easily judge how it fares at the present, +from the circumstance of my taking pen in hand, and endeavouring to +write down the passages of my life - a last resource with most people. +But at the period to which I allude I was just, as I may say, entering +upon life; I had adopted a profession, and, to keep up my character, +simultaneously with that profession - the study of a new language. +I speedily became a proficient in the one, but ever remained a novice +in the other: a novice in the law, but a perfect master in the Welsh +tongue.<br> +<br> +Yes; very pleasant times were those, when within the womb of a lofty +deal desk, behind which I sat for some eight hours every day, transcribing +(when I imagined eyes were upon me) documents of every description in +every possible hand, Blackstone kept company with Ab Gwilym - the polished +English lawyer of the last century, who wrote long and prosy chapters +on the rights of things - with a certain wild Welshman, who some four +hundred years before that time indited immortal cowydds and odes to +the wives of Cambrian chieftains - more particularly to one Morfydd, +the wife of a certain hunchbacked dignitary called by the poet facetiously +Bwa Bach - generally terminating with the modest request of a little +private parlance beneath the greenwood bough, with no other witness +than the eos, or nightingale, a request which, if the poet himself may +be believed, rather a doubtful point, was seldom, very seldom, denied. +And by what strange chance had Ab Gwilym and Blackstone, two personages +so exceedingly different, been thus brought together? From what +the reader already knows of me, he may be quite prepared to find me +reading the former; but what could have induced me to take up Blackstone, +or rather the law?<br> +<br> +I have ever loved to be as explicit as possible; on which account, perhaps, +I never attained to any proficiency in the law, the essence of which +is said to be ambiguity; most questions may be answered in a few words, +and this among the rest, though connected with the law. My parents +deemed it necessary that I should adopt some profession, they named +the law; the law was as agreeable to me as any other profession within +my reach, so I adopted the law, and the consequence was, that Blackstone, +probably for the first time, found himself in company with Ab Gwilym. +By adopting the law I had not ceased to be Lavengro.<br> +<br> +So I sat behind a desk many hours in the day, ostensibly engaged in +transcribing documents of various kinds; the scene of my labours was +a strange old house, occupying one side of a long and narrow court, +into which, however, the greater number of the windows looked not, but +into an extensive garden, filled with fruit trees, in the rear of a +large, handsome house, belonging to a highly respectable gentleman, +who, moyennant un douceur considerable, had consented to instruct my +father’s youngest son in the mysteries of glorious English law. +Ah! would that I could describe the good gentleman in the manner which +he deserves; he has long since sunk to his place in a respectable vault, +in the aisle of a very respectable church, whilst an exceedingly respectable +marble slab against the neighbouring wall tells on a Sunday some eye +wandering from its prayer-book that his dust lies below; to secure such +respectabilities in death, he passed a most respectable life. +Let no one sneer, he accomplished much; his life was peaceful, so was +his death. Are these trifles? I wish I could describe him, +for I loved the man, and with reason, for he was ever kind to me, to +whom kindness has not always been shown; and he was, moreover, a choice +specimen of a class which no longer exists - a gentleman lawyer of the +old school. I would fain describe him, but figures with which +he has nought to do press forward and keep him from my mind’s +eye; there they pass, Spaniard and Moor, Gypsy, Turk, and livid Jew. +But who is that? what that thick pursy man in the loose, snuff-coloured +greatcoat, with the white stockings, drab breeches, and silver buckles +on his shoes; that man with the bull neck, and singular head, immense +in the lower part, especially about the jaws, but tapering upward like +a pear; the man with the bushy brows, small gray eyes replete with catlike +expression, whose grizzled hair is cut close, and whose ear-lobes are +pierced with small golden rings? Oh! that is not my dear old master, +but a widely different personage. Bon jour, Monsieur Vidocq! expressions +de ma part à Monsieur Le Baron Taylor. But here he comes +at last, my veritable old master!<br> +<br> +A more respectable-looking individual was never seen; he really looked +what he was, a gentleman of the law - there was nothing of the pettifogger +about him: somewhat under the middle size, and somewhat rotund in person, +he was always dressed in a full suit of black, never worn long enough +to become threadbare. His face was rubicund, and not without keenness; +but the most remarkable thing about him was the crown of his head, which +was bald, and shone like polished ivory, nothing more white, smooth, +and lustrous. Some people have said that he wore false calves, +probably because his black silk stockings never exhibited a wrinkle; +they might just as well have said that he waddled, because his shoes +creaked; for these last, which were always without a speck, and polished +as his crown, though of a different hue, did creak, as he walked rather +slowly. I cannot say that I ever saw him walk fast.<br> +<br> +He had a handsome practice, and might have died a very rich man, much +richer than he did, had he not been in the habit of giving rather expensive +dinners to certain great people, who gave him nothing in return except +their company; I could never discover his reasons for doing so, as he +always appeared to me a remarkably quiet man, by nature averse to noise +and bustle; but in all dispositions there are anomalies: I have already +said that he lived in a handsome house, and I may as well here add that +he had a very handsome wife, who both dressed and talked exceedingly +well.<br> +<br> +So I sat behind the deal desk, engaged in copying documents of various +kinds; and in the apartment in which I sat, and in the adjoining ones, +there were others, some of whom likewise copied documents, while some +were engaged in the yet more difficult task of drawing them up; and +some of these, sons of nobody, were paid for the work they did, whilst +others, like myself, sons of somebody, paid for being permitted to work, +which, as our principal observed, was but reasonable, forasmuch as we +not unfrequently utterly spoiled the greater part of the work intrusted +to our hands.<br> +<br> +There was one part of the day when I generally found myself quite alone, +I mean at the hour when the rest went home to their principal meal; +I, being the youngest, was left to take care of the premises, to answer +the bell, and so forth, till relieved, which was seldom before the expiration +of an hour and a half, when I myself went home; this period, however, +was anything but disagreeable to me, for it was then that I did what +best pleased me, and, leaving off copying the documents, I sometimes +indulged in a fit of musing, my chin resting on both my hands, and my +elbows planted on the desk; or, opening the desk aforesaid, I would +take out one of the books contained within it, and the book which I +took out was almost invariably, not Blackstone, but Ab Gwilym.<br> +<br> +Ah, that Ab Gwilym! I am much indebted to him, and it were ungrateful +on my part not to devote a few lines to him and his songs in this my +history. Start not, reader, I am not going to trouble you with +a poetical dissertation; no, no; I know my duty too well to introduce +anything of the kind; but I, who imagine I know several things, and +amongst others the workings of your mind at this moment, have an idea +that you are anxious to learn a little, a very little, more about Ab +Gwilym than I have hitherto told you, the two or three words that I +have dropped having awakened within you a languid kind of curiosity. +I have no hesitation in saying that he makes one of the some half-dozen +really great poets whose verses, in whatever language they wrote, exist +at the present day, and are more or less known. It matters little +how I first became acquainted with the writings of this man, and how +the short thick volume, stuffed full with his immortal imaginings, first +came into my hands. I was studying Welsh, and I fell in with Ab +Gwilym by no very strange chance. But, before I say more about +Ab Gwilym, I must be permitted - I really must - to say a word or two +about the language in which he wrote, that same ‘Sweet Welsh.’ +If I remember right, I found the language a difficult one; in mastering +it, however, I derived unexpected assistance from what of Irish remained +in my head, and I soon found that they were cognate dialects, springing +from some old tongue which itself, perhaps, had sprung from one much +older. And here I cannot help observing cursorily that I every +now and then, whilst studying this Welsh, generally supposed to be the +original tongue of Britain, encountered words which, according to the +lexicographers, were venerable words highly expressive, showing the +wonderful power and originality of the Welsh, in which, however, they +were no longer used in common discourse, but were relics, precious relics, +of the first speech of Britain, perhaps of the world; with which words, +however, I was already well acquainted, and which I had picked up, not +in learned books, classic books, and in tongues of old renown, but whilst +listening to Mr. Petulengro and Tawno Chikno talking over their everyday +affairs in the language of the tents; which circumstance did not fail +to give rise to deep reflection in those moments when, planting my elbows +on the deal desk, I rested my chin upon my hands. But it is probable +that I should have abandoned the pursuit of the Welsh language, after +obtaining a very superficial acquaintance with it, had it not been for +Ab Gwilym.<br> +<br> +A strange songster was that who, pretending to be captivated by every +woman he saw, was, in reality, in love with nature alone - wild, beautiful, +solitary nature - her mountains and cascades, her forests and streams, +her birds, fishes, and wild animals. Go to, Ab Gwilym, with thy +pseudo-amatory odes, to Morfydd, or this or that other lady, fair or +ugly; little didst thou care for any of them, Dame Nature was thy love, +however thou mayest seek to disguise the truth. Yes, yes, send +thy love-message to Morfydd, the fair wanton. By whom dost thou +send it, I would know? by the salmon forsooth, which haunts the rushing +stream! the glorious salmon which bounds and gambols in the flashing +water, and whose ways and circumstances thou so well describest - see, +there he hurries upwards through the flashing water. Halloo! what +a glimpse of glory - but where is Morfydd the while? What, another +message to the wife of Bwa Bach? Ay, truly; and by whom? - the +wind! the swift wind, the rider of the world, whose course is not to +be stayed; who gallops o’er the mountain, and, when he comes to +broadest river, asks neither for boat nor ferry; who has described the +wind so well - his speed and power? But where is Morfydd? +And now thou art awaiting Morfydd, the wanton, the wife of the Bwa Bach; +thou art awaiting her beneath the tall trees, amidst the underwood; +but she comes not; no Morfydd is there. Quite right, Ab Gwilym; +what wantest thou with Morfydd? But another form is nigh at hand, that +of red Reynard, who, seated upon his chine at the mouth of his cave, +looks very composedly at thee; thou startest, bendest thy bow, thy cross-bow, +intending to hit Reynard with the bolt just about the jaw; but the bow +breaks, Reynard barks and disappears into his cave, which by thine own +account reaches hell - and then thou ravest at the misfortune of thy +bow, and the non-appearance of Morfydd, and abusest Reynard. Go +to, thou carest neither for thy bow nor for Morfydd, thou merely seekest +an opportunity to speak of Reynard; and who has described him like thee? +the brute with the sharp shrill cry, the black reverse of melody, whose +face sometimes wears a smile like the devil’s in the Evangile. +But now thou art actually with Morfydd; yes, she has stolen from the +dwelling of the Bwa Bach and has met thee beneath those rocks - she +is actually with thee, Ab Gwilym; but she is not long with thee, for +a storm comes on, and thunder shatters the rocks - Morfydd flees! +Quite right, Ab Gwilym; thou hadst no need of her, a better theme for +song is the voice of the Lord - the rock-shatterer - than the frail +wife of the Bwa Bach. Go to, Ab Gwilym, thou wast a wiser and +a better man than thou wouldst fain have had people believe.<br> +<br> +But enough of thee and thy songs! Those times passed rapidly; +with Ab Gwilym in my hand, I was in the midst of enchanted ground, in +which I experienced sensations akin to those I had felt of yore whilst +spelling my way through the wonderful book - the delight of my childhood. +I say akin, for perhaps only once in our lives do we experience unmixed +wonder and delight; and these I had already known.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Silver gray - Good word for everybody - A remarkable youth - Clients +- Grades in society - The archdeacon - Reading the Bible.<br> +<br> +‘I am afraid that I have not acted very wisely in putting this +boy of ours to the law,’ said my father to my mother, as they +sat together one summer evening in their little garden, beneath the +shade of some tall poplars.<br> +<br> +Yes, there sat my father in the garden chair which leaned against the +wall of his quiet home, the haven in which he had sought rest, and, +praise be to God, found it, after many a year of poorly-requited toil; +there he sat, with locks of silver gray which set off so nobly his fine +bold but benevolent face, his faithful consort at his side, and his +trusty dog at his feet - an eccentric animal of the genuine regimental +breed, who, born amongst red coats, had not yet become reconciled to +those of any other hue, barking and tearing at them when they drew near +the door, but testifying his fond reminiscence of the former by hospitable +waggings of the tail whenever a uniform made its appearance - at present +a very unfrequent occurrence.<br> +<br> +‘I am afraid I have not done right in putting him to the law,’ +said my father, resting his chin upon his gold-headed bamboo cane.<br> +<br> +‘Why, what makes you think so?’ said my mother.<br> +<br> +‘I have been taking my usual evening walk up the road, with the +animal here,’ said my father; ‘and, as I walked along, I +overtook the boy’s master, Mr. S-. We shook hands, and, +after walking a little way farther, we turned back together, talking +about this and that; the state of the country, the weather, and the +dog, which he greatly admired; for he is a good-natured man, and has +a good word for everybody, though the dog all but bit him when he attempted +to coax his head; after the dog, we began talking about the boy; it +was myself who introduced that subject: I thought it was a good opportunity +to learn how he was getting on, so I asked what he thought of my son; +he hesitated at first, seeming scarcely to know what to say; at length +he came out with “Oh, a very extraordinary youth, a most remarkable +youth indeed, captain!” “Indeed,” said I, “I +am glad to hear it, but I hope you find him steady?” “Steady, +steady,” said he, “why, yes, he’s steady, I cannot +say that he is not steady.” “Come, come,” said +I, beginning to be rather uneasy, “I see plainly that you are +not altogether satisfied with him; I was afraid you would not be, for, +though he is my own son, I am anything but blind to his imperfections; +but do tell me what particular fault you have to find with him; and +I will do my best to make him alter his conduct.” “No +fault to find with him, captain, I assure you, no fault whatever; the +youth is a remarkable youth, an extraordinary youth, only - ” +As I told you before, Mr. S- is the best-natured man in the world, and +it was only with the greatest difficulty that I could get him to say +a single word to the disadvantage of the boy, for whom he seems to entertain +a very great regard. At last I forced the truth from him, and +grieved I was to hear it; though I must confess that I was somewhat +prepared for it. It appears that the lad has a total want of discrimination.’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t understand you,’ said my mother.<br> +<br> +‘You can understand nothing that would seem for a moment to impugn +the conduct of that child. I am not, however, so blind; want of +discrimination was the word, and it both sounds well, and is expressive. +It appears that, since he has been placed where is, he has been guilty +of the grossest blunders; only the other day, Mr. S- told me, as he +was engaged in close conversation with one of his principal clients, +the boy came to tell him that a person wanted particularly to speak +with him; and, on going out, he found a lamentable figure with one eye, +who came to ask for charity; whom, nevertheless, the lad had ushered +into a private room, and installed in an arm-chair, like a justice of +the peace, instead of telling him to go about his business - now what +did that show, but a total want of discrimination?’<br> +<br> +‘I wish we may never have anything worse to reproach him with,’ +said my mother.<br> +<br> +‘I don’t know what worse we could reproach him with,’ +said my father; ‘I mean of course as far as his profession is +concerned; discrimination is the very keystone; if he treated all people +alike, he would soon become a beggar himself; there are grades in society +as well as in the army; and according to those grades we should fashion +our behaviour, else there would instantly be an end of all order and +discipline. I am afraid that the child is too condescending to +his inferiors, whilst to his superiors he is apt to be unbending enough; +I don’t believe that would do in the world; I am sure it would +not in the army. He told me another anecdote with respect to his +behaviour, which shocked me more than the other had done. It appears +that his wife, who by the bye, is a very fine woman, and highly fashionable, +gave him permission to ask the boy to tea one evening, for she is herself +rather partial to the lad; there had been a great dinner party there +that day, and there were a great many fashionable people, so the boy +went and behaved very well and modestly for some time, and was rather +noticed, till, unluckily, a very great gentleman, an archdeacon I think, +put some questions to him, and, finding that he understood the languages, +began talking to him about the classics. What do you think? the +boy had the impertinence to say that the classics were much overvalued, +and amongst other things that some horrid fellow or other, some Welshman +I think (thank God it was not an Irishman), was a better poet than Ovid; +the company were of course horrified; the archdeacon, who is seventy +years of age, and has seven thousand a year, took snuff and turned away. +Mrs. S- turned up her eyes, Mr. S-, however, told me with his usual +good-nature (I suppose to spare my feelings) that he rather enjoyed +the thing, and thought it a capital joke.’<br> +<br> +‘I think so too,’ said my mother.<br> +<br> +‘I do not,’ said my father; ‘that a boy of his years +should entertain an opinion of his own - I mean one which militates +against all established authority - is astounding; as well might a raw +recruit pretend to offer an unfavourable opinion on the manual and platoon +exercise; the idea is preposterous; the lad is too independent by half. +I never yet knew one of an independent spirit get on in the army, the +secret of success in the army is the spirit of subordination.’<br> +<br> +‘Which is a poor spirit after all,’ said my mother; ‘but +the child is not in the army.’<br> +<br> +‘And it is well for him that he is not,’ said my father; +‘but you do not talk wisely, the world is a field of battle, and +he who leaves the ranks, what can he expect but to be cut down? +I call his present behaviour leaving the ranks, and going vapouring +about without orders; his only chance lies in falling in again as quick +as possible; does he think he can carry the day by himself? an opinion +of his own at these years - I confess I am exceedingly uneasy about +the lad.’<br> +<br> +‘You make me uneasy too,’ said my mother; ‘but I really +think you are too hard upon the child; he is not a bad child, after +all, though not, perhaps, all you could wish him; he is always ready +to read the Bible. Let us go in; he is in the room above us; at +least he was two hours ago, I left him there bending over his books; +I wonder what he has been doing all this time, it is now getting late; +let us go in, and he shall read to us.’<br> +<br> +‘I am getting old,’ said my father; ‘and I love to +hear the Bible read to me, for my own sight is something dim; yet I +do not wish the child to read to me this night, I cannot so soon forget +what I have heard; but I hear my eldest son’s voice, he is now +entering the gate; he shall read the Bible to us this night. What +say you?’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The eldest son - Saying of wild Finland - The critical time - Vaunting +polls - One thing wanted - A father’s blessing - Miracle of art +- The Pope’s house - Young enthusiast - Pictures of England - +Persist and wrestle - The little dark man.<br> +<br> +The eldest son! The regard and affection which my father entertained +for his first-born were natural enough, and appeared to none more so +than myself, who cherished the same feelings towards him. What +he was as a boy the reader already knows, for the reader has seen him +as a boy; fain would I describe him at the time of which I am now speaking, +when he had attained the verge of manhood, but the pen fails me, and +I attempt not the task; and yet it ought to be an easy one, for how +frequently does his form visit my mind’s eye in slumber and in +wakefulness, in the light of day and in the night watches; but last +night I saw him in his beauty and his strength; he was about to speak, +and my ear was on the stretch, when at once I awoke, and there was I +alone, and the night storm was howling amidst the branches of the pines +which surround my lonely dwelling: ‘Listen to the moaning of the +pine, at whose root thy hut is fastened,’ - a saying that, of +wild Finland, in which there is wisdom; I listened and thought of life +and death. . . . Of all human beings that I have ever known, that elder +brother was the most frank and generous, ay, and the quickest and readiest, +and the best adapted to do a great thing needful at the critical time, +when the delay of a moment would be fatal. I have known him dash +from a steep bank into a stream in his full dress, and pull out a man +who was drowning; yet there were twenty others bathing in the water, +who might have saved him by putting out a hand, without inconvenience +to themselves, which, however, they did not do, but stared with stupid +surprise at the drowning one’s struggles. Yes, whilst some +shouted from the bank to those in the water to save the drowning one, +and those in the water did nothing, my brother neither shouted nor stood +still, but dashed from the bank and did the one thing needful, which, +under such circumstances, not one man in a million would have done. +Now, who can wonder that a brave old man should love a son like this, +and prefer him to any other?<br> +<br> +‘My boy, my own boy, you are the very image of myself, the day +I took off my coat in the park to fight Big Ben,’ said my father, +on meeting his son wet and dripping, immediately after his bold feat. +And who cannot excuse the honest pride of the old man - the stout old +man?<br> +<br> +Ay, old man, that son was worthy of thee, and thou wast worthy of such +a son; a noble specimen wast thou of those strong single-minded Englishmen, +who, without making a parade either of religion or loyalty, feared God +and honoured their king, and were not particularly friendly to the French, +whose vaunting polls they occasionally broke, as at Minden and at Malplaquet, +to the confusion vast of the eternal foes of the English land. +I, who was so little like thee that thou understoodst me not, and in +whom with justice thou didst feel so little pride, had yet perception +enough to see all thy worth, and to feel it an honour to be able to +call myself thy son; and if at some no distant time, when the foreign +enemy ventures to insult our shore, I be permitted to break some vaunting +poll, it will be a triumph to me to think that, if thou hadst lived, +thou wouldst have hailed the deed, and mightest yet discover some distant +resemblance to thyself, the day when thou didst all but vanquish the +mighty Brain.<br> +<br> +I have already spoken of my brother’s taste for painting, and +the progress he had made in that beautiful art. It is probable +that, if circumstances had not eventually diverted his mind from the +pursuit, he would have attained excellence, and left behind him some +enduring monument of his powers, for he had an imagination to conceive, +and that yet rarer endowment, a hand capable of giving life, body, and +reality to the conceptions of his mind; perhaps he wanted one thing, +the want of which is but too often fatal to the sons of genius, and +without which genius is little more than a splendid toy in the hands +of the possessor - perseverance, dogged perseverance, in his proper +calling; otherwise, though the grave had closed over him, he might still +be living in the admiration of his fellow-creatures. O ye gifted +ones, follow your calling, for, however various your talents may be, +ye can have but one calling capable of leading ye to eminence and renown; +follow resolutely the one straight path before you, it is that of your +good angel, let neither obstacles nor temptations induce ye to leave +it; bound along if you can; if not, on hands and knees follow it, perish +in it, if needful; but ye need not fear that; no one ever yet died in +the true path of his calling before he had attained the pinnacle. +Turn into other paths, and for a momentary advantage or gratification +ye have sold your inheritance, your immortality. Ye will never +be heard of after death.<br> +<br> +‘My father has given me a hundred and fifty pounds,’ said +my brother to me one morning, ‘and something which is better - +his blessing. I am going to leave you.’<br> +<br> +‘And where are you going?’<br> +<br> +‘Where? to the great city; to London, to be sure.’<br> +<br> +‘I should like to go with you.’<br> +<br> +‘Pooh,’ said my brother, ‘what should you do there? +But don’t be discouraged, I daresay a time will come when you +too will go to London.’<br> +<br> +And, sure enough, so it did, and all but too soon.<br> +<br> +‘And what do you purpose doing there?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘Oh, I go to improve myself in art, to place myself under some +master of high name, at least I hope to do so eventually. I have, +however, a plan in my head, which I should wish first to execute; indeed, +I do not think I can rest till I have done so; every one talks so much +about Italy, and the wondrous artists which it has produced, and the +wondrous pictures which are to be found there; now I wish to see Italy, +or rather Rome, the great city, for I am told that in a certain room +there is contained the grand miracle of art.’<br> +<br> +‘And what do you call it?’<br> +<br> +‘The Transfiguration, painted by one Rafael, and it is said to +be the greatest work of the greatest painter whom the world has ever +known. I suppose it is because everybody says so, that I have +such a strange desire to see it. I have already made myself well +acquainted with its locality, and think that I could almost find my +way to it blindfold. When I have crossed the Tiber, which, as +you are aware, runs through Rome, I must presently turn to the right, +up a rather shabby street, which communicates with a large square, the +farther end of which is entirely occupied by the front of an immense +church, with a dome which ascends almost to the clouds, and this church +they call St. Peter’s.’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, ay,’ said I, ‘I have read about that in Keysler’s +Travels.’<br> +<br> +‘Before the church, in the square, are two fountains, one on either +side, casting up water in showers; between them, in the midst, is an +obelisk, brought from Egypt, and covered with mysterious writing; on +your right rises an edifice, not beautiful nor grand, but huge and bulky, +where lives a strange kind of priest whom men call the Pope, a very +horrible old individual, who would fain keep Christ in leading strings, +calls the Virgin Mary the Queen of Heaven, and himself God’s Lieutenant-General +upon earth.’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, ay,’ said I, ‘I have read of him in Foxe’s +<i>Book of</i> <i>Martyrs</i>.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, I do not go straight forward up the flight of steps conducting +into the church, but I turn to the right, and, passing under the piazza, +find myself in a court of the huge bulky house; and then ascend various +staircases, and pass along various corridors and galleries, all of which +I could describe to you, though I have never seen them; at last a door +is unlocked, and we enter a room rather high, but not particularly large, +communicating with another room, into which, however, I do not go, though +there are noble things in that second room - immortal things, by immortal +artists; amongst others, a grand piece of Correggio; I do not enter +it, for the grand picture of the world is not there; but I stand still +immediately on entering the first room, and I look straight before me, +neither to the right nor left, though there are noble things both on +the right and left, for immediately before me at the farther end, hanging +against the wall, is a picture which arrests me, and I can see nothing +else, for that picture at the farther end hanging against the wall is +the picture of the world. . . .’<br> +<br> +Yes, go thy way, young enthusiast, and, whether to London town or to +old Rome, may success attend thee; yet strange fears assail me and misgivings +on thy account. Thou canst not rest, thou say’st, till thou +hast seen the picture in the chamber at old Rome hanging over against +the wall; ay, and thus thou dust exemplify thy weakness - thy strength +too, it may be - for the one idea, fantastic yet lovely, which now possesses +thee, could only have originated in a genial and fervent brain. +Well, go, if thou must go; yet it perhaps were better for thee to bide +in thy native land, and there, with fear and trembling, with groanings, +with straining eyeballs, toil, drudge, slave, till thou hast made excellence +thine own; thou wilt scarcely acquire it by staring at the picture over +against the door in the high chamber of old Rome. Seekest thou +inspiration? thou needest it not, thou hast it already; and it was never +yet found by crossing the sea. What hast thou to do with old Rome, +and thou an Englishman? ‘Did thy blood never glow at the +mention of thy native land?’ as an artist merely? Yes, I +trow, and with reason, for thy native land need not grudge old Rome +her ‘pictures of the world’; she has pictures of her own, +‘pictures of England’; and is it a new thing to toss up +caps and shout - England against the world? Yes, against the world +in all, in all; in science and in arms, in minstrel strain, and not +less in the art ‘which enables the hand to deceive the intoxicated +soul by means of pictures.’ Seek’st models? to Gainsborough +and Hogarth turn, not names of the world, maybe, but English names - +and England against the world! A living master? why, there he +comes! thou hast had him long, he has long guided thy young hand towards +the excellence which is yet far from thee, but which thou canst attain +if thou shouldst persist and wrestle, even as he has done, ’midst +gloom and despondency - ay, and even contempt; he who now comes up the +creaking stair to thy little studio in the second floor to inspect thy +last effort before thou departest, the little stout man whose face is +very dark, and whose eye is vivacious; that man has attained excellence, +destined some day to be acknowledged, though not till he is cold, and +his mortal part returned to its kindred clay. He has painted, +not pictures of the world, but English pictures, such as Gainsborough +himself might have done; beautiful rural pieces, with trees which might +well tempt the wild birds to perch upon them, thou needest not run to +Rome, brother, where lives the old Mariolater, after pictures of the +world, whilst at home there are pictures of England; nor needest thou +even go to London, the big city, in search of a master, for thou hast +one at home in the old East Anglian town who can instruct thee whilst +thou needest instruction: better stay at home, brother, at least for +a season, and toil and strive ’midst groanings and despondency +till thou hast attained excellence even as he has done - the little +dark man with the brown coat and the top-boots, whose name will one +day be considered the chief ornament of the old town, and whose works +will at no distant period rank amongst the proudest pictures of England +- and England against the world! - thy master, my brother, thy, at present, +all too little considered master - Crome.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Desire for novelty - Lives of the lawless - Countenances - Old yeoman +and dame - We live near the sea - Uncouth-looking volume - The other +condition - Draoitheac - A dilemma - The Antinomian - Lodowick Muggleton +- Almost blind - Anders Vedel.<br> +<br> +But to proceed with my own story: I now ceased all at once to take much +pleasure in the pursuits which formerly interested me, I yawned over +Ab Gwilym, even as I now in my mind’s eye perceive the reader +yawning over the present pages. What was the cause of this? Constitutional +lassitude, or a desire for novelty? Both it is probable had some +influence in the matter, but I rather think that the latter feeling +was predominant. The parting words of my brother had sunk into +my mind. He had talked of travelling in strange regions and seeing +strange and wonderful objects, and my imagination fell to work, and +drew pictures of adventures wild and fantastic, and I thought what a +fine thing it must be to travel, and I wished that my father would give +me his blessing, and the same sum that he had given my brother, and +bid me go forth into the world; always forgetting that I had neither +talents nor energies at this period which would enable me to make any +successful figure on its stage.<br> +<br> +And then I again sought up the book which had so captivated me in my +infancy, and I read it through; and I sought up others of a similar +character, and in seeking for them I met books also of adventure, but +by no means of a harmless description, lives of wicked and lawless men, +Murray and Latroon - books of singular power, but of coarse and prurient +imagination - books at one time highly in vogue; now deservedly forgotten, +and most difficult to be found.<br> +<br> +And when I had gone through these books, what was my state of mind? +I had derived entertainment from their perusal, but they left me more +listless and unsettled than before, and really knew not what to do to +pass my time. My philological studies had become distasteful, +and I had never taken any pleasure in the duties of my profession. +I sat behind my desk in a state of torpor, my mind almost as blank as +the paper before me, on which I rarely traced a line. It was always +a relief to hear the bell ring, as it afforded me an opportunity of +doing something which I was yet capable of doing, to rise and open the +door and stare in the countenances of the visitors. All of a sudden +I fell to studying countenances, and soon flattered myself that I had +made considerable progress in the science.<br> +<br> +‘There is no faith in countenances,’ said some Roman of +old; ‘trust anything but a person’s countenance.’ +‘Not trust a man’s countenance?’ say some moderns, +‘why, it is the only thing in many people that we can trust; on +which account they keep it most assiduously out of the way. Trust +not a man’s words if you please, or you may come to very erroneous +conclusions; but at all times place implicit confidence in a man’s +countenance, in which there is no deceit; and of necessity there can +be none. If people would but look each other more in the face, +we should have less cause to complain of the deception of the world; +nothing so easy as physiognomy nor so useful.’ Somewhat +in this latter strain I thought at the time of which I am speaking. +I am now older, and, let us hope, less presumptuous. It is true +that in the course of my life I have scarcely ever had occasion to repent +placing confidence in individuals whose countenances have prepossessed +me in their favour; though to how many I may have been unjust, from +whose countenances I may have drawn unfavourable conclusions, is another +matter.<br> +<br> +But it had been decreed by that Fate which governs our every action +that I was soon to return to my old pursuits. It was written that +I should not yet cease to be Lav-engro, though I had become, in my own +opinion, a kind of Lavater. It is singular enough that my renewed +ardour for philology seems to have been brought about indirectly by +my physiognomical researches, in which had I not indulged, the event +which I am about to relate, as far as connected with myself, might never +have occurred. Amongst the various countenances which I admitted +during the period of my answering the bell, there were two which particularly +pleased me, and which belonged to an elderly yeoman and his wife, whom +some little business had brought to our law sanctuary. I believe +they experienced from me some kindness and attention, which won the +old people’s hearts. So, one day, when their little business +had been brought to a conclusion, and they chanced to be alone with +me, who was seated as usual behind the deal desk in the outer room, +the old man with some confusion began to tell me how grateful himself +and dame felt for the many attentions I had shown them, and how desirous +they were to make me some remuneration. ‘Of course,’ +said the old man, ‘we must be cautious what we offer to so fine +a young gentleman as yourself; we have, however, something we think +will just suit the occasion, a strange kind of thing which people say +is a book, though no one that my dame or myself have shown it to can +make anything out of it; so as we are told that you are a fine young +gentleman, who can read all the tongues of the earth and stars, as the +Bible says, we thought, I and my dame, that it would be just the thing +you would like and my dame has it now at the bottom of her basket.’<br> +<br> +‘A book!’ said I, ‘how did you come by it?’<br> +<br> +‘We live near the sea,’ said the old man; ‘so near +that sometimes our thatch is wet with the spray; and it may now be a +year ago that there was a fearful storm, and a ship was driven ashore +during the night, and ere the morn was a complete wreck. When +we got up at daylight, there were the poor shivering crew at our door; +they were foreigners, red-haired men, whose speech we did not understand; +but we took them in, and warmed them, and they remained with us three +days; and when they went away they left behind them this thing, here +it is, part of the contents of a box which was washed ashore.’<br> +<br> +‘And did you learn who they were?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, yes; they made us understand that they were Danes.’<br> +<br> +Danes! thought I, Danes! and instantaneously, huge and grisly, appeared +to rise up before my vision the skull of the old pirate Dane, even as +I had seen it of yore in the pent-house of the ancient church to which, +with my mother and my brother, I had wandered on the memorable summer +eve.<br> +<br> +And now the old man handed me the book; a strange and uncouth-looking +volume enough. It was not very large, but instead of the usual +covering was bound in wood, and was compressed with strong iron clasps. +It was a printed book, but the pages were not of paper, but vellum, +and the characters were black, and resembled those generally termed +Gothic.<br> +<br> +‘It is certainly a curious book,’ said I; ‘and I should +like to have it, but I can’t think of taking it as a gift, I must +give you an equivalent, I never take presents from anybody.’<br> +<br> +The old man whispered with his dame and chuckled, and then turned his +face to me, and said, with another chuckle, ‘Well, we have agreed +about the price, but, maybe, you will not consent.’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t know,’ said I; ‘what do you demand?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, that you shake me by the hand, and hold out your cheek to +my old dame, she has taken an affection to you.’<br> +<br> +‘I shall be very glad to shake you by the hand,’ said I, +‘but as for the other condition, it requires consideration.’<br> +<br> +‘No consideration at all,’ said the old man, with something +like a sigh; ‘she thinks you like her son, our only child, that +was lost twenty years ago in the waves of the North Sea.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, that alters the case altogether,’ said I, ‘and +of course I can have no objection.’<br> +<br> +And now at once I shook off my listlessness, to enable me to do which +nothing could have happened more opportune than the above event. +The Danes, the Danes! And was I at last to become acquainted, +and in so singular a manner, with the speech of a people which had as +far back as I could remember exercised the strongest influence over +my imagination, as how should they not! - in infancy there was the summer-eve +adventure, to which I often looked back, and always with a kind of strange +interest with respect to those to whom such gigantic and wondrous bones +could belong as I had seen on that occasion; and, more than this, I +had been in Ireland, and there, under peculiar circumstances, this same +interest was increased tenfold. I had mingled much whilst there +with the genuine Irish - a wild but kind-hearted race, whose conversation +was deeply imbued with traditionary lore, connected with the early history +of their own romantic land, and from them I heard enough of the Danes, +but nothing commonplace, for they never mentioned them but in terms +which tallied well with my own preconceived ideas. For at an early +period the Danes had invaded Ireland, and had subdued it, and, though +eventually driven out, had left behind them an enduring remembrance +in the minds of the people, who loved to speak of their strength and +their stature, in evidence of which they would point to the ancient +raths or mounds where the old Danes were buried, and where bones of +extraordinary size were occasionally exhumed. And as the Danes +surpassed other people in strength, so, according to my narrators, they +also excelled all others in wisdom, or rather in Draoitheac, or magic, +for they were powerful sorcerers, they said, compared with whom the +fairy men of the present day knew nothing at all, at all; and, amongst +other wonderful things, they knew how to make strong beer from the heather +that grows upon the bogs. Little wonder if the interest, the mysterious +interest, which I had early felt about the Danes, was increased tenfold +by my sojourn in Ireland.<br> +<br> +And now I had in my possession a Danish book, which, from its appearance, +might be supposed to have belonged to the very old Danes indeed; but +how was I to turn it to any account? I had the book, it is true, +but I did not understand the language, and how was I to overcome that +difficulty? hardly by poring over the book; yet I did pore over the +book, daily and nightly, till my eyes were dim, and it appeared to me +that every now and then I encountered words which I understood - English +words, though strangely disguised; and I said to myself, Courage! +English and Danish are cognate dialects, a time will come when I shall +understand this Danish; and then I pored over the book again, but with +all my poring I could not understand it; and then I became angry, and +I bit my lips till the blood came; and I occasionally tore a handful +from my hair, and flung it upon the floor, but that did not mend the +matter, for still I did not understand the book, which, however, I began +to see was written in rhyme - a circumstance rather difficult to discover +at first, the arrangement of the lines not differing from that which +is employed in prose; and its being written in rhyme made me only the +more eager to understand it.<br> +<br> +But I toiled in vain, for I had neither grammar nor dictionary of the +language; and when I sought for them could procure neither; and I was +much dispirited, till suddenly a bright thought came into my head, and +I said, although I cannot obtain a dictionary or grammar, I can perhaps +obtain a Bible in this language, and if I can procure a Bible, I can +learn the language, for the Bible in every tongue contains the same +thing, and I have only to compare the words of the Danish Bible with +those of the English, and, if I persevere, I shall in time acquire the +language of the Danes; and I was pleased with the thought, which I considered +to be a bright one, and I no longer bit my lips, or tore my hair, but +I took my hat, and, going forth, I flung my hat into the air.<br> +<br> +And when my hat came down, I put it on my head and commenced running, +directing my course to the house of the Antinomian preacher, who sold +books, and whom I knew to have Bibles in various tongues amongst the +number, and I arrived out of breath, and I found the Antinomian in his +little library, dusting his books; and the Antinomian clergyman was +a tall man of about seventy, who wore a hat with a broad brim and a +shallow crown, and whose manner of speaking was exceedingly nasal; and +when I saw him, I cried, out of breath, ‘Have you a Danish Bible?’ +and he replied, ‘What do you want it for, friend?’ and I +answered, ‘To learn Danish by’; ‘And maybe to learn +thy duty,’ replied the Antinomian preacher. ‘Truly, +I have it not, but, as you are a customer of mine, I will endeavour +to procure you one, and I will write to that laudable society which +men call the Bible Society, an unworthy member of which I am, and I +hope by next week to procure what you desire.’<br> +<br> +And when I heard these words of the old man, I was very glad, and my +heart yearned towards him, and I would fain enter into conversation +with him; and I said, ‘Why are you an Antinomian? For my +part I would rather be a dog than belong to such a religion.’ +‘Nay, friend,’ said the Antinomian, ‘thou forejudgest +us; know that those who call us Antinomians call us so despitefully, +we do not acknowledge the designation.’ ‘Then you +do not set all law at nought?’ said I. ‘Far be it +from us,’ said the old man, ‘we only hope that, being sanctified +by the Spirit from above, we have no need of the law to keep us in order. +Did you ever hear tell of Lodowick Muggleton?’ ‘Not +I.’ ‘That is strange; know then that he was the founder +of our poor society, and after him we are frequently, though opprobriously, +termed Muggletonians, for we are Christians. Here is his book, +which, perhaps, you can do no better than purchase, you are fond of +rare books, and this is both curious and rare; I will sell it cheap. +Thank you, and now be gone, I will do all I can to procure the Bible.’<br> +<br> +And in this manner I procured the Danish Bible, and I commenced my task; +first of all, however, I locked up in a closet the volume which had +excited my curiosity, saying, ‘Out of this closet thou comest +not till I deem myself competent to read thee,’ and then I sat +down in right earnest, comparing every line in the one version with +the corresponding one in the other; and I passed entire nights in this +manner, till I was almost blind, and the task was tedious enough at +first, but I quailed not, and soon began to make progress: and at first +I had a misgiving that the old book might not prove a Danish book, but +was soon reassured by reading many words in the Bible which I remembered +to have seen in the book; and then I went on right merrily, and I found +that the language which I was studying was by no means a difficult one, +and in less than a month I deemed myself able to read the book.<br> +<br> +Anon, I took the book from the closet, and proceeded to make myself +master of its contents; I had some difficulty, for the language of the +book, though in the main the same as the language of the Bible, differed +from it in some points, being apparently a more ancient dialect; by +degrees, however, I overcame this difficulty, and I understood the contents +of the book, and well did they correspond with all those ideas in which +I had indulged connected with the Danes. For the book was a book +of ballads, about the deeds of knights and champions, and men of huge +stature; ballads which from time immemorial had been sung in the North, +and which some two centuries before the time of which I am speaking +had been collected by one Anders Vedel, who lived with a certain Tycho +Brahe, and assisted him in making observations upon the heavenly bodies, +at a place called Uranias Castle, on the little island of Hveen, in +the Cattegat.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The two individuals - The long pipe - The Germans - Werther - The female +Quaker - Suicide - Gibbon - Jesus of Bethlehem - Fill your glass - Shakespeare +- English at Minden - Melancholy Swayne Vonved - The fifth dinner - +Strange doctrines - Are you happy? - Improve yourself in German.<br> +<br> +It might be some six months after the events last recorded, that two +individuals were seated together in a certain room, in a certain street +of the old town which I have so frequently had occasion to mention in +the preceding pages; one of them was an elderly, and the other a very +young man, and they sat on either side of a fireplace, beside a table +on which were fruit and wine; the room was a small one, and in its furniture +exhibited nothing remarkable. Over the mantelpiece, however, hung +a small picture with naked figures in the foreground, and with much +foliage behind. It might not have struck every beholder, for it +looked old and smoke-dried; but a connoisseur, on inspecting it closely, +would have pronounced it to be a judgment of Paris, and a masterpiece +of the Flemish school.<br> +<br> +The forehead of the elder individual was high, and perhaps appeared +more so than it really was, from the hair being carefully brushed back, +as if for the purpose of displaying to the best advantage that part +of the cranium; his eyes were large and full, and of a light brown, +and might have been called heavy and dull, had they not been occasionally +lighted up by a sudden gleam - not so brilliant however as that which +at every inhalation shone from the bowl of the long clay pipe which +he was smoking, but which, from a certain sucking sound which about +this time began to be heard from the bottom, appeared to be giving notice +that it would soon require replenishment from a certain canister, which, +together with a lighted taper, stood upon the table beside him.<br> +<br> +‘You do not smoke?’ said he, at length, laying down his +pipe, and directing his glance to his companion.<br> +<br> +Now there was at least one thing singular connected with this last, +namely, the colour of his hair, which, notwithstanding his extreme youth, +appeared to be rapidly becoming gray. He had very long limbs, +and was apparently tall of stature, in which he differed from his elderly +companion, who must have been somewhat below the usual height.<br> +<br> +‘No, I can’t smoke,’ said the youth, in reply to the +observation of the other; ‘I have often tried, but could never +succeed to my satisfaction.’<br> +<br> +‘Is it possible to become a good German without smoking?’ +said the senior, half speaking to himself.<br> +<br> +‘I daresay not,’ said the youth; ‘but I shan’t +break my heart on that account.’<br> +<br> +‘As for breaking your heart, of course you would never think of +such a thing; he is a fool who breaks his heart on any account; but +it is good to be a German, the Germans are the most philosophic people +in the world, and the greatest smokers: now I trace their philosophy +to their smoking.’<br> +<br> +‘I have heard say their philosophy is all smoke - is that your +opinion?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, no; but smoking has a sedative effect upon the nerves, and +enables a man to bear the sorrows of this life (of which every one has +his share) not only decently, but dignifiedly. Suicide is not +a national habit in Germany as it is in England.’<br> +<br> +‘But that poor creature, Werther, who committed suicide, was a +German.’<br> +<br> +‘Werther is a fictitious character, and by no means a felicitous +one; I am no admirer either of Werther or his author. But I should +say that, if there ever was a Werther in Germany, he did not smoke. +Werther, as you very justly observe, was a poor creature.’<br> +<br> +‘And a very sinful one; I have heard my parents say that suicide +is a great crime.’<br> +<br> +‘Broadly, and without qualification, to say that suicide is a +crime, is speaking somewhat unphilosophically. No doubt suicide, +under many circumstances, is a crime, a very heinous one. When +the father of a family, for example, to escape from certain difficulties, +commits suicide, he commits a crime; there are those around him who +look to him for support, by the law of nature, and he has no right to +withdraw himself from those who have a claim upon his exertions; he +is a person who decamps with other people’s goods as well as his +own. Indeed, there can be no crime which is not founded upon the +depriving others of something which belongs to them. A man is +hanged for setting fire to his house in a crowded city, for he burns +at the same time or damages those of other people; but if a man who +has a house on a heath sets fire to it, he is not hanged, for he has +not damaged or endangered any other individual’s property, and +the principle of revenge, upon which all punishment is founded, has +not been aroused. Similar to such a case is that of the man who, +without any family ties, commits suicide; for example, were I to do +the thing this evening, who would have a right to call me to account? +I am alone in the world, have no family to support, and, so far from +damaging any one, should even benefit my heir by my accelerated death. +However, I am no advocate for suicide under any circumstances; there +is something undignified in it, unheroic, un-Germanic. But if +you must commit suicide - and there is no knowing to what people may +be brought - always contrive to do it as decorously as possible; the +decencies, whether of life or of death, should never be lost sight of. +I remember a female Quaker who committed suicide by cutting her throat, +but she did it decorously and decently: kneeling down over a pail, so +that not one drop fell upon the floor; thus exhibiting in her last act +that nice sense of neatness for which Quakers are distinguished. +I have always had a respect for that woman’s memory.’<br> +<br> +And here, filling his pipe from the canister, and lighting it at the +taper, he recommenced smoking calmly and sedately.<br> +<br> +‘But is not suicide forbidden in the Bible?’ the youth demanded.<br> +<br> +‘Why, no; but what though it were! - the Bible is a respectable +book, but I should hardly call it one whose philosophy is of the soundest. +I have said that it is a respectable book; I mean respectable from its +antiquity, and from containing, as Herder says, “the earliest +records of the human race,” though those records are far from +being dispassionately written, on which account they are of less value +than they otherwise might have been. There is too much passion +in the Bible, too much violence; now, to come to all truth, especially +historic truth, requires cool dispassionate investigation, for which +the Jews do not appear to have ever been famous. We are ourselves +not famous for it, for we are a passionate people; the Germans are not +- they are not a passionate people - a people celebrated for their oaths; +we are. The Germans have many excellent historic writers, we . +. . ’tis true we have Gibbon . . . You have been reading Gibbon +- what do you think of him?’<br> +<br> +‘I think him a very wonderful writer.’<br> +<br> +‘He is a wonderful writer - one <i>sui generis</i> - uniting the +perspicuity of the English - for we are perspicuous - with the cool +dispassionate reasoning of the Germans. Gibbon sought after the +truth, found it, and made it clear.’<br> +<br> +‘Then you think Gibbon a truthful writer?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, yes; who shall convict Gibbon of falsehood? Many people +have endeavoured to convict Gibbon of falsehood; they have followed +him in his researches, and have never found him once tripping. +Oh, he is a wonderful writer! his power of condensation is admirable; +the lore of the whole world is to be found in his pages. Sometimes +in a single note he has given us the result of the study of years; or, +to speak metaphorically, “he has ransacked a thousand Gulistans, +and has condensed all his fragrant booty into a single drop of otto.”’<br> +<br> +‘But was not Gibbon an enemy to the Christian faith?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, no; he was rather an enemy to priestcraft, so am I; and +when I say the philosophy of the Bible is in many respects unsound, +I always wish to make an exception in favour of that part of it which +contains the life and sayings of Jesus of Bethlehem, to which I must +always concede my unqualified admiration - of Jesus, mind you; for with +his followers and their dogmas I have nothing to do. Of all historic +characters Jesus is the most beautiful and the most heroic. I +have always been a friend to hero-worship, it is the only rational one, +and has always been in use amongst civilised people - the worship of +spirits is synonymous with barbarism - it is mere fetish; the savages +of West Africa are all spirit-worshippers. But there is something +philosophic in the worship of the heroes of the human race, and the +true hero is the benefactor. Brahma, Jupiter, Bacchus, were all +benefactors, and, therefore, entitled to the worship of their respective +peoples. The Celts worshipped Hesus, who taught them to plough, +a highly useful art. We, who have attained a much higher state +of civilisation than the Celts ever did, worship Jesus, the first who +endeavoured to teach men to behave decently and decorously under all +circumstances; who was the foe of vengeance, in which there is something +highly indecorous; who had first the courage to lift his voice against +that violent dogma, “an eye for an eye”; who shouted conquer, +but conquer with kindness; who said put up the sword, a violent unphilosophic +weapon; and who finally died calmly and decorously in defence of his +philosophy. He must be a savage who denies worship to the hero +of Golgotha.’<br> +<br> +‘But he was something more than a hero; he was the Son of God, +wasn’t he?’<br> +<br> +The elderly individual made no immediate answer; but, after a few more +whiffs from his pipe, exclaimed, ‘Come, fill your glass! +How do you advance with your translation of <i>Tell’</i>?<br> +<br> +‘It is nearly finished; but I do not think I shall proceed with +it; I begin to think the original somewhat dull.’<br> +<br> +‘There you are wrong; it is the masterpiece of Schiller, the first +of German poets.’<br> +<br> +‘It may be so,’ said the youth. ‘But, pray excuse +me, I do not think very highly of German poetry. I have lately +been reading Shakespeare; and, when I turn from him to the Germans - +even the best of them - they appear mere pigmies. You will pardon +the liberty I perhaps take in saying so.’<br> +<br> +‘I like that every one should have an opinion of his own,’ +said the elderly individual; ‘and, what is more, declare it. +Nothing displeases me more than to see people assenting to everything +that they hear said; I at once come to the conclusion that they are +either hypocrites, or there is nothing in them. But, with respect +to Shakespeare, whom I have not read for thirty years, is he not rather +given to bombast, “crackling bombast,” as I think I have +said in one of my essays?’<br> +<br> +‘I daresay he is,’ said the youth; ‘but I can’t +help thinking him the greatest of all poets, not even excepting Homer. +I would sooner have written that series of plays, founded on the fortunes +of the House of Lancaster, than the <i>Iliad</i> itself. The events +described are as lofty as those sung by Homer in his great work, and +the characters brought upon the stage still more interesting. +I think Hotspur as much of a hero as Hector, and young Henry more of +a man than Achilles; and then there is the fat knight, the quintessence +of fun, wit, and rascality. Falstaff is a creation beyond the +genius even of Homer.’<br> +<br> +‘You almost tempt me to read Shakespeare again - but the Germans?’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t admire the Germans,’ said the youth, somewhat +excited. ‘I don’t admire them in any point of view. +I have heard my father say that, though good sharpshooters, they can’t +be much depended upon as soldiers; and that old Sergeant Meredith told +him that Minden would never have been won but for the two English regiments, +who charged the French with fixed bayonets, and sent them to the right-about +in double-quick time. With respect to poetry, setting Shakespeare +and the English altogether aside, I think there is another Gothic nation, +at least, entitled to dispute with them the palm. Indeed, to my +mind, there is more genuine poetry contained in the old Danish book +which I came so strangely by, than has been produced in Germany from +the period of the Niebelungen lay to the present.’<br> +<br> +‘Ah, the Koempe Viser?’ said the elderly individual, breathing +forth an immense volume of smoke, which he had been collecting during +the declamation of his young companion. ‘There are singular +things in that book, I must confess; and I thank you for showing it +to me, or rather your attempt at translation. I was struck with +that ballad of Orm Ungarswayne, who goes by night to the grave-hill +of his father to seek for counsel. And then, again, that strange +melancholy Swayne Vonved, who roams about the world propounding people +riddles; slaying those who cannot answer, and rewarding those who can +with golden bracelets. Were it not for the violence, I should +say that ballad has a philosophic tendency. I thank you for making +me acquainted with the book, and I thank the Jew Mousha for making me +acquainted with you.’<br> +<br> +‘That Mousha was a strange customer,’ said the youth, collecting +himself.<br> +<br> +‘He <i>was</i> a strange customer,’ said the elder individual, +breathing forth a gentle cloud. ‘I love to exercise hospitality +to wandering strangers, especially foreigners; and when he came to this +place, pretending to teach German and Hebrew, I asked him to dinner. +After the first dinner, he asked me to lend him five pounds; I <i>did</i> +lend him five pounds. After the fifth dinner, he asked me to lend +him fifty pounds; I did <i>not</i> lend him the fifty pounds.’<br> +<br> +‘He was as ignorant of German as of Hebrew,’ said the youth; +‘on which account he was soon glad, I suppose, to transfer his +pupil to some one else.’<br> +<br> +‘He told me,’ said the elder individual, ‘that he +intended to leave a town where he did not find sufficient encouragement; +and, at the same time, expressed regret at being obliged to abandon +a certain extraordinary pupil, for whom he had a particular regard. +Now I, who have taught many people German from the love which I bear +to it, and the desire which I feel that it should be generally diffused, +instantly said that I should be happy to take his pupil off his hands, +and afford him what instruction I could in German, for, as to Hebrew, +I have never taken much interest in it. Such was the origin of +our acquaintance. You have been an apt scholar. Of late, +however, I have seen little of you - what is the reason?’<br> +<br> +The youth made no answer.<br> +<br> +‘You think, probably, that you have learned all I can teach you? +Well, perhaps you are right.’<br> +<br> +‘Not so, not so,’ said the young man eagerly; ‘before +I knew you I knew nothing, and am still very ignorant; but of late my +father’s health has been very much broken, and he requires attention; +his spirits also have become low, which, to tell you the truth, he attributes +to my misconduct. He says that I have imbibed all kinds of strange +notions and doctrines, which will, in all probability, prove my ruin, +both here and hereafter; which - which - ’<br> +<br> +‘Ah! I understand,’ said the elder, with another calm +whiff. ‘I have always had a kind of respect for your father, +for there is something remarkable in his appearance, something heroic, +and I would fain have cultivated his acquaintance; the feeling, however, +has not been reciprocated. I met him, the other day, up the road, +with his cane and dog, and saluted him; he did not return my salutation.’<br> +<br> +‘He has certain opinions of his own,’ said the youth, ‘which +are widely different from those which he has heard that you profess.’<br> +<br> +‘I respect a man for entertaining an opinion of his own,’ +said the elderly individual. ‘I hold certain opinions; but +I should not respect an individual the more for adopting them. +All I wish for is tolerance, which I myself endeavour to practise. +I have always loved the truth, and sought it; if I have not found it, +the greater my misfortune.’<br> +<br> +‘Are you happy?’ said the young man.<br> +<br> +‘Why, no! And, between ourselves, it is that which induces +me to doubt sometimes the truth of my opinions. My life, upon +the whole, I consider a failure; on which account, I would not counsel +you, or any one, to follow my example too closely. It is getting +late, and you had better be going, especially as your father, you say, +is anxious about you. But, as we may never meet again, I think +there are three things which I may safely venture to press upon you. +The first is, that the decencies and gentlenesses should never be lost +sight of, as the practice of the decencies and gentlenesses is at all +times compatible with independence of thought and action. The +second thing which I would wish to impress upon you is, that there is +always some eye upon us; and that it is impossible to keep anything +we do from the world, as it will assuredly be divulged by somebody as +soon as it is his interest to do so. The third thing which I would +wish to press upon you - ’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said the youth, eagerly bending forward.<br> +<br> +‘Is - ’ and here the elderly individual laid down his pipe +upon the table - ‘that it will be as well to go on improving yourself +in German!’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXIV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The alehouse-keeper - Compassion for the rich - Old English gentleman +- How is this? - Madeira - The Greek Parr - Twenty languages - Whiter’s +health - About the fight - A sporting gentleman - The flattened nose +- Lend us that pightle - The surly nod.<br> +<br> +‘Holloa, master! can you tell us where the fight is likely to +be?’<br> +<br> +Such were the words shouted out to me by a short thick fellow, in brown +top-boots, and bareheaded, who stood, with his hands in his pockets, +at the door of a country alehouse as I was passing by.<br> +<br> +Now, as I knew nothing about the fight, and as the appearance of the +man did not tempt me greatly to enter into conversation with him, I +merely answered in the negative, and continued my way.<br> +<br> +It was a fine lovely morning in May, the sun shone bright above, and +the birds were carolling in the hedgerows. I was wont to be cheerful +at such seasons, for, from my earliest recollection, sunshine and the +song of birds have been dear to me; yet, about that period, I was not +cheerful, my mind was not at rest; I was debating within myself, and +the debate was dreary and unsatisfactory enough. I sighed, and +turning my eyes upward, I ejaculated, ‘What is truth?’<br> +<br> +But suddenly, by a violent effort breaking away from my meditations, +I hastened forward; one mile, two miles, three miles were speedily left +behind; and now I came to a grove of birch and other trees, and opening +a gate I passed up a kind of avenue, and soon arriving before a large +brick house, of rather antique appearance, knocked at the door.<br> +<br> +In this house there lived a gentleman with whom I had business. +He was said to be a genuine old English gentleman, and a man of considerable +property; at this time, however, he wanted a thousand pounds, as gentlemen +of considerable property every now and then do. I had brought +him a thousand pounds in my pocket, for it is astonishing how many eager +helpers the rich find, and with what compassion people look upon their +distresses. He was said to have good wine in his cellar.<br> +<br> +‘Is your master at home?’ said I, to a servant who appeared +at the door.<br> +<br> +‘His worship is at home, young man,’ said the servant, as +he looked at my shoes, which bore evidence that I had come walking. +‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ he added, as he looked me in the +face.<br> +<br> +‘Ay, ay, servants,’ thought I, as I followed the man into +the house, ‘always look people in the face when you open the door, +and do so before you look at their shoes, or you may mistake the heir +of a Prime Minister for a shopkeeper’s son.’<br> +<br> +I found his worship a jolly, red-faced gentleman, of about fifty-five; +he was dressed in a green coat, white corduroy breeches, and drab gaiters, +and sat on an old-fashioned leather sofa, with two small, thoroughbred, +black English terriers, one on each side of him. He had all the +appearance of a genuine old English gentleman who kept good wine in +his cellar.<br> +<br> +‘Sir,’ said I, ‘I have brought you a thousand pounds’; +and I said this after the servant had retired, and the two terriers +had ceased the barking which is natural to all such dogs at the sight +of a stranger.<br> +<br> +And when the magistrate had received the money, and signed and returned +a certain paper which I handed to him, he rubbed his hands, and looking +very benignantly at me, exclaimed -<br> +<br> +‘And now, young gentleman, that our business is over, perhaps +you can tell me where the fight is to take place?’<br> +<br> +‘I am sorry, sir,’ said I, ‘that I can’t inform +you, but everybody seems to be anxious about it’; and then I told +him what had occurred to me on the road with the alehouse-keeper.<br> +<br> +‘I know him,’ said his worship; ‘he’s a tenant +of mine, and a good fellow, somewhat too much in my debt though. +But how is this, young gentleman, you look as if you had been walking; +you did not come on foot?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, sir, I came on foot.’<br> +<br> +‘On foot! why it is sixteen miles.’<br> +<br> +‘I shan’t be tired when I have walked back.’<br> +<br> +‘You can’t ride, I suppose?’<br> +<br> +‘Better than I can walk.’<br> +<br> +‘Then why do you walk?’<br> +<br> +‘I have frequently to make journeys connected with my profession; +sometimes I walk, sometimes I ride, just as the whim takes me.’<br> +<br> +‘Will you take a glass of wine?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘That’s right; what shall it be?’<br> +<br> +‘Madeira!’<br> +<br> +The magistrate gave a violent slap on his knee; ‘I like your taste,’ +said he, ‘I am fond of a glass of Madeira myself, and can give +you such a one as you will not drink every day; sit down, young gentleman, +you shall have a glass of Madeira, and the best I have.’<br> +<br> +Thereupon he got up, and, followed by his two terriers, walked slowly +out of the room.<br> +<br> +I looked round the room, and, seeing nothing which promised me much +amusement, I sat down, and fell again into my former train of thought. +‘What is truth?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Here it is,’ said the magistrate, returning at the end +of a quarter of an hour, followed by the servant with a tray; ‘here’s +the true thing, or I am no judge, far less a justice. It has been +thirty years in my cellar last Christmas. There,’ said he +to the servant, ‘put it down, and leave my young friend and me +to ourselves. Now, what do you think of it?’<br> +<br> +‘It is very good,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Did you ever taste better Madeira?’<br> +<br> +‘I never before tasted Madeira.’<br> +<br> +‘Then you ask for a wine without knowing what it is?’<br> +<br> +‘I ask for it, sir, that I may know what it is.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, there is logic in that, as Parr would say; you have heard +of Parr?’<br> +<br> +‘Old Parr?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, old Parr, but not that Parr; you mean the English, I the +Greek Parr, as people call him.’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t know him.’<br> +<br> +‘Perhaps not - rather too young for that, but were you of my age, +you might have cause to know him, coming from where you do. He +kept school there, I was his first scholar; he flogged Greek into me +till I loved him - and he loved me: he came to see me last year, and +sat in that chair; I honour Parr - he knows much, and is a sound man.’<br> +<br> +‘Does he know the truth?’<br> +<br> +‘Know the truth! he knows what’s good, from an oyster to +an ostrich - he’s not only sound, but round.’<br> +<br> +‘Suppose we drink his health?’<br> +<br> +‘Thank you, boy: here’s Parr’s health, and Whiter’s.’<br> +<br> +‘Who is Whiter?’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t you know Whiter? I thought everybody knew Reverend +Whiter the philologist, though I suppose you scarcely know what that +means. A man fond of tongues and languages, quite out of your +way - he understands some twenty; what do you say to that?’<br> +<br> +‘Is he a sound man?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, as to that, I scarcely know what to say: he has got queer +notions in his head - wrote a book to prove that all words came originally +from the earth - who knows? Words have roots, and roots live in +the earth; but, upon the whole, I should not call him altogether a sound +man, though he can talk Greek nearly as fast as Parr.’<br> +<br> +‘Is he a round man?’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, boy, rounder than Parr; I’ll sing you a song, if you +like, which will let you into his character:-<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Give me the haunch of a buck to eat, and to drink Madeira old,<br> +And a gentle wife to rest with, and in my arms to fold,<br> +An Arabic book to study, a Norfolk cob to ride,<br> +And a house to live in shaded with trees, and near to a river side;<br> +With such good things around me, and blessed with good health withal,<br> +Though I should live for a hundred years, for death I would not call.<br> +<br> +<br> +Here’s to Whiter’s health - so you know nothing about the +fight?’<br> +<br> +‘No, sir; the truth is, that of late I have been very much occupied +with various matters, otherwise I should, perhaps, have been able to +afford you some information - boxing is a noble art.’<br> +<br> +‘Can you box?’<br> +<br> +‘A little.’<br> +<br> +‘I tell you what, my boy; I honour you, and provided your education +had been a little less limited, I should have been glad to see you here +in company with Parr and Whiter; both can box. Boxing is, as you +say, a noble art - a truly English art; may I never see the day when +Englishmen shall feel ashamed of it, or blacklegs and blackguards bring +it into disgrace. I am a magistrate, and, of course, cannot patronise +the thing very openly, yet I sometimes see a prize fight: I saw the +Game Chicken beat Gulley.’<br> +<br> +‘Did you ever see Big Ben?’<br> +<br> +‘No; why do you ask?’ But here we heard a noise, like +that of a gig driving up to the door, which was immediately succeeded +by a violent knocking and ringing, and after a little time the servant +who had admitted me made his appearance in the room. ‘Sir,’ +said he, with a certain eagerness of manner, ‘here are two gentlemen +waiting to speak to you.’<br> +<br> +‘Gentlemen waiting to speak to me! who are they?’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t know, sir,’ said the servant; ‘but +they look like sporting gentlemen, and - and’ - here he hesitated; +‘from a word or two they dropped, I almost think that they come +about the fight.’<br> +<br> +‘About the fight!’ said the magistrate. ‘No; +that can hardly be; however, you had better show them in.’<br> +<br> +Heavy steps were now heard ascending the stairs, and the servant ushered +two men into the apartment. Again there was a barking, but louder +than that which had been directed against myself, for here were two +intruders; both of them were remarkable-looking men, but to the foremost +of them the most particular notice may well be accorded: he was a man +somewhat under thirty, and nearly six feet in height. He was dressed +in a blue coat, white corduroy breeches, fastened below the knee with +small golden buttons; on his legs he wore white lamb’s-wool stockings, +and on his feet shoes reaching to the ankles; round his neck was a handkerchief +of the blue and bird’s eye pattern; he wore neither whiskers nor +moustaches, and appeared not to delight in hair, that of his head, which +was of a light brown, being closely cropped; the forehead was rather +high, but somewhat narrow; the face neither broad nor sharp, perhaps +rather sharp than broad; the nose was almost delicate; the eyes were +gray, with an expression in which there was sternness blended with something +approaching to feline; his complexion was exceedingly pale, relieved, +however, by certain pock-marks, which here and there studded his countenance; +his form was athletic, but lean; his arms long. In the whole appearance +of the man there was a blending of the bluff and the sharp. You +might have supposed him a bruiser; his dress was that of one in all +its minutiae; something was wanting, however, in his manner - the quietness +of the professional man; he rather looked like one performing the part +- well - very well - but still performing a part. His companion! +- there, indeed, was the bruiser - no mistake about him: a tall massive +man, with a broad countenance and a flattened nose; dressed like a bruiser, +but not like a bruiser going into the ring; he wore white-topped boots, +and a loose brown jockey coat.<br> +<br> +As the first advanced towards the table, behind which the magistrate +sat, he doffed a white castor from his head, and made rather a genteel +bow; looking at me, who sat somewhat on one side, he gave a kind of +nod of recognition.<br> +<br> +‘May I request to know who you are, gentlemen?’ said the +magistrate.<br> +<br> +‘Sir,’ said the man in a deep, but not unpleasant voice, +‘allow me to introduce to you my friend, Mr. -, the celebrated +pugilist’; and he motioned with his hand towards the massive man +with the flattened nose.<br> +<br> +‘And your own name, sir?’ said the magistrate.<br> +<br> +‘My name is no matter,’ said the man; ‘were I to mention +it to you, it would awaken within you no feeling of interest. +It is neither Kean nor Belcher, and I have as yet done nothing to distinguish +myself like either of those individuals, or even like my friend here. +However, a time may come - we are not yet buried; and whensoever my +hour arrives, I hope I shall prove myself equal to my destiny, however +high -<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Like bird that’s bred amongst the Helicons.’<br> +<br> +<br> +And here a smile half theatrical passed over his features.<br> +<br> +‘In what can I oblige you, sir?’ said the magistrate.<br> +<br> +‘Well, sir; the soul of wit is brevity; we want a place for an +approaching combat between my friend here and a brave from town. +Passing by your broad acres this fine morning we saw a pightle, which +we deemed would suit. Lend us that pightle, and receive our thanks; +‘twould be a favour, though not much to grant: we neither ask +for Stonehenge nor for Tempe.’<br> +<br> +My friend looked somewhat perplexed; after a moment, however, he said, +with a firm but gentlemanly air, ‘Sir, I am sorry that I cannot +comply with your request.’<br> +<br> +‘Not comply!’ said the man, his brow becoming dark as midnight; +and with a hoarse and savage tone, ‘Not comply! why not?’<br> +<br> +‘It is impossible, sir; utterly impossible!’<br> +<br> +‘Why so?’<br> +<br> +‘I am not compelled to give my reasons to you, sir, nor to any +man.’<br> +<br> +‘Let me beg of you to alter your decision,’ said the man, +in a tone of profound respect.<br> +<br> +‘Utterly impossible, sir; I am a magistrate.’<br> +<br> +‘Magistrate! then fare ye well, for a green-coated buffer and +a Harmanbeck.’<br> +<br> +‘Sir!’ said the magistrate, springing up with a face fiery +with wrath.<br> +<br> +But, with a surly nod to me, the man left the apartment; and in a moment +more the heavy footsteps of himself and his companion were heard descending +the staircase.<br> +<br> +‘Who is that man?’ said my friend, turning towards me.<br> +<br> +‘A sporting gentleman, well known in the place from which I come.’<br> +<br> +‘He appeared to know you.’<br> +<br> +‘I have occasionally put on the gloves with him.’<br> +<br> +‘What is his name?’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Doubts - Wise king of Jerusalem - Let me see - A thousand years - Nothing +new - The crowd - The hymn - Faith - Charles Wesley - There he stood +- Farewell, brother - Death - Sun, moon, and stars - Wind on the heath.<br> +<br> +There was one question which I was continually asking myself at this +period, and which has more than once met the eyes of the reader who +has followed me through the last chapter: ‘What is truth?’ +I had involved myself imperceptibly in a dreary labyrinth of doubt, +and, whichever way I turned, no reasonable prospect of extricating myself +appeared. The means by which I had brought myself into this situation +may be very briefly told; I had inquired into many matters, in order +that I might become wise, and I had read and pondered over the words +of the wise, so called, till I had made myself master of the sum of +human wisdom; namely, that everything is enigmatical and that man is +an enigma to himself; thence the cry of ‘What is truth?’ +I had ceased to believe in the truth of that in which I had hitherto +trusted, and yet could find nothing in which I could put any fixed or +deliberate belief - I was, indeed, in a labyrinth! In what did +I not doubt? With respect to crime and virtue I was in doubt; +I doubted that the one was blamable and the other praiseworthy. +Are not all things subjected to the law of necessity? Assuredly +time and chance govern all things: Yet how can this be? alas!<br> +<br> +Then there was myself; for what was I born? Are not all things +born to be forgotten? That’s incomprehensible: yet is it +not so? Those butterflies fall and are forgotten. In what +is man better than a butterfly? All then is born to be forgotten. +Ah! that was a pang indeed; ’tis at such a moment that a man wishes +to die. The wise king of Jerusalem, who sat in his shady arbours +beside his sunny fish-pools, saying so many fine things, wished to die, +when he saw that not only all was vanity, but that he himself was vanity. +Will a time come when all will be forgotten that now is beneath the +sun? If so, of what profit is life?<br> +<br> +In truth it was a sore vexation of spirit to me when I saw, as the wise +man saw of old, that whatever I could hope to perform must necessarily +be of very temporary duration; and if so, why do it? I said to +myself, whatever name I can acquire, will it endure for eternity? scarcely +so. A thousand years? Let me see! what have I done already? +I have learnt Welsh, and have translated the songs of Ab Gwilym, some +ten thousand lines, into English rhyme; I have also learnt Danish, and +have rendered the old book of ballads cast by the tempest upon the beach +into corresponding English metre. Good! have I done enough already +to secure myself a reputation of a thousand years? No, no! certainly +not; I have not the slightest ground for hoping that my translations +from the Welsh and Danish will be read at the end of a thousand years. +Well, but I am only eighteen, and I have not stated all that I have +done; I have learnt many other tongues, and have acquired some knowledge +even of Hebrew and Arabic. Should I go on in this way till I am +forty, I must then be very learned; and perhaps, among other things, +may have translated the Talmud, and some of the great works of the Arabians. +Pooh! all this is mere learning and translation, and such will never +secure immortality. Translation is at best an echo, and it must +be a wonderful echo to be heard after the lapse of a thousand years. +No! all I have already done, and all I may yet do in the same way, I +may reckon as nothing - mere pastime; something else must be done. +I must either write some grand original work, or conquer an empire; +the one just as easy as the other. But am I competent to do either? +Yes, I think I am, under favourable circumstances. Yes, I think +I may promise myself a reputation of a thousand years, if I do but give +myself the necessary trouble. Well! but what’s a thousand +years after all, or twice a thousand years? Woe is me! I +may just as well sit still.<br> +<br> +‘Would I had never been born!’ I said to myself; and a thought +would occasionally intrude: But was I ever born? Is not all that +I see a lie - a deceitful phantom? Is there a world, and earth, +and sky? Berkeley’s doctrine - Spinoza’s doctrine! +Dear reader, I had at that time never read either Berkeley or Spinoza. +I have still never read them; who are they, men of yesterday? +‘All is a lie - all a deceitful phantom,’ are old cries; +they come naturally from the mouths of those who, casting aside that +choicest shield against madness, simplicity, would fain be wise as God, +and can only know that they are naked. This doubting in the ‘universal +all’ is almost coeval with the human race: wisdom, so called, +was early sought after. All is a lie - a deceitful phantom - was +said when the world was yet young; its surface, save a scanty portion, +yet untrodden by human foot, and when the great tortoise yet crawled +about. All is a lie, was the doctrine of Buddh; and Buddh lived +thirty centuries before the wise king of Jerusalem, who sat in his arbours, +beside his sunny fish-pools, saying many fine things, and, amongst others, +‘There is nothing new under the sun!’<br> +<br> +<br> +One day, whilst I bent my way to the heath of which I have spoken on +a former occasion, at the foot of the hills which formed it I came to +a place where a wagon was standing, but without horses, the shafts resting +on the ground; there was a crowd about it, which extended half-way up +the side of the neighbouring hill. The wagon was occupied by some +half a dozen men; some sitting, others standing - they were dressed +in sober-coloured habiliments of black or brown, cut in a plain and +rather uncouth fashion, and partially white with dust; their hair was +short, and seemed to have been smoothed down by the application of the +hand; all were bareheaded - sitting or standing, all were bareheaded. +One of them, a tall man, was speaking as I arrived; ere, however, I +could distinguish what he was saying, he left off, and then there was +a cry for a hymn ‘to the glory of God’ - that was the word. +It was a strange-sounding hymn, as well it might be, for everybody joined +in it: there were voices of all kinds, of men, of women, and of children +- of those who could sing and of those who could not - a thousand voices +all joined, and all joined heartily; no voice of all the multitude was +silent save mine. The crowd consisted entirely of the lower classes, +labourers and mechanics, and their wives and children - dusty people, +unwashed people, people of no account whatever, and yet they did not +look a mob. And when that hymn was over - and here let me observe +that, strange as it sounded, I have recalled that hymn to mind, and +it has seemed to tingle in my ears on occasions when all that pomp and +art could do to enhance religious solemnity was being done - in the +Sistine Chapel, what time the papal band was in full play, and the choicest +choristers of Italy poured forth their mellowest tones in presence of +Batuschca and his cardinals - on the ice of the Neva, what time the +long train of stately priests, with their noble beards and their flowing +robes of crimson and gold, with their ebony and ivory staves, stalked +along, chanting their Sclavonian litanies in advance of the mighty Emperor +of the North and his Priberjensky guard of giants, towards the orifice +through which the river, running below in its swiftness, is to receive +the baptismal lymph: - when the hymn was over, another man in the wagon +proceeded to address the people; he was a much younger man than the +last speaker; somewhat square built and about the middle height; his +face was rather broad, but expressive of much intelligence, and with +a peculiar calm and serious look; the accent in which he spoke indicated +that he was not of these parts, but from some distant district. +The subject of his address was faith, and how it could remove mountains. +It was a plain address, without any attempt at ornament, and delivered +in a tone which was neither loud nor vehement. The speaker was +evidently not a practised one - once or twice he hesitated as if for +words to express his meaning, but still he held on, talking of faith, +and how it could remove mountains: ‘It is the only thing we want, +brethren, in this world; if we have that, we are indeed rich, as it +will enable us to do our duty under all circumstances, and to bear our +lot, however hard it may be - and the lot of all mankind is hard - the +lot of the poor is hard, brethren - and who knows more of the poor than +I? - a poor man myself, and the son of a poor man: but are the rich +better off? not so, brethren, for God is just. The rich have their +trials too: I am not rich myself, but I have seen the rich with careworn +countenances; I have also seen them in madhouses; from which you may +learn, brethren, that the lot of all mankind is hard; that is, till +we lay hold of faith, which makes us comfortable under all circumstances; +whether we ride in gilded chariots or walk barefooted in quest of bread; +whether we be ignorant, whether we be wise - for riches and poverty, +ignorance and wisdom, brethren, each brings with it its peculiar temptations. +Well, under all these troubles, the thing which I would recommend you +to seek is one and the same - faith; faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, +who made us and allotted to each his station. Each has something +to do, brethren. Do it, therefore, but always in faith; without +faith we shall find ourselves sometimes at fault; but with faith never +- for faith can remove the difficulty. It will teach us to love +life, brethren, when life is becoming bitter, and to prize the blessings +around us; for as every man has his cares, brethren, so has each man +his blessings. It will likewise teach us not to love life over +much, seeing that we must one day part with it. It will teach +us to face death with resignation, and will preserve us from sinking +amidst the swelling of the river Jordan.’<br> +<br> +And when he had concluded his address, he said, ‘Let us sing a +hymn, one composed by Master Charles Wesley - he was my countryman, +brethren.<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Jesus, I cast my soul on Thee,<br> +Mighty and merciful to save;<br> +Thou shalt to death go down with me,<br> +And lay me gently in the grave.<br> +This body then shall rest in hope,<br> +This body which the worms destroy;<br> +For Thou shalt surely raise me up<br> +To glorious life and endless joy.’<br> +<br> +<br> +Farewell, preacher with the plain coat and the calm serious look! +I saw thee once again, and that was lately - only the other day. +It was near a fishing hamlet, by the sea-side, that I saw the preacher +again. He stood on the top of a steep monticle, used by pilots +as a look-out for vessels approaching that coast, a dangerous one, abounding +in rocks and quick-sands. There he stood on the monticle, preaching +to weather-worn fishermen and mariners gathered below upon the sand. +‘Who is he?’ said I to an old fisherman who stood beside +me with a book of hymns in his hand; but the old man put his hand to +his lips, and that was the only answer I received. Not a sound +was heard but the voice of the preacher and the roaring of the waves; +but the voice was heard loud above the roaring of the sea, for the preacher +now spoke with power, and his voice was not that of one who hesitates. +There he stood - no longer a young man, for his black locks were become +gray, even like my own; but there was the intelligent face, and the +calm serious look which had struck me of yore. There stood the +preacher, one of those men - and, thank God, their number is not few +- who, animated by the spirit of Christ, amidst much poverty, and, alas! +much contempt, persist in carrying the light of the Gospel amidst the +dark parishes of what, but for their instrumentality, would scarcely +be Christian England. I would have waited till he had concluded, +in order that I might speak to him, and endeavour to bring back the +ancient scene to his recollection, but suddenly a man came hurrying +towards the monticle, mounted on a speedy horse, and holding by the +bridle one yet more speedy, and he whispered to me, ‘Why loiterest +thou here? - knowest thou not all that is to be done before midnight?’ +and he flung me the bridle; and I mounted on the horse of great speed, +and I followed the other, who had already galloped off. And as +I departed, I waved my hand to him on the monticle, and I shouted, ‘Farewell, +brother! the seed came up at last, after a long period!’ and then +I gave the speedy horse his way, and leaning over the shoulder of the +galloping horse, I said, ‘Would that my life had been like his +- even like that man’s!’<br> +<br> +I now wandered along the heath, till I came to a place where, beside +a thick furze, sat a man, his eyes fixed intently on the red ball of +the setting sun.<br> +<br> +‘That’s not you, Jasper?’<br> +<br> +‘Indeed, brother!’<br> +<br> +‘I’ve not seen you for years.’<br> +<br> +‘How should you, brother?’<br> +<br> +‘What brings you here?’<br> +<br> +‘The fight, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Where are the tents?’<br> +<br> +‘On the old spot, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Any news since we parted?’<br> +<br> +‘Two deaths, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Who are dead, Jasper?’<br> +<br> +‘Father and mother, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Where did they die?’<br> +<br> +‘Where they were sent, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘And Mrs. Herne?’<br> +<br> +‘She’s alive, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Where is she now?’<br> +<br> +‘In Yorkshire, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘What is your opinion of death, Mr. Petulengro?’ said I, +as I sat down beside him.<br> +<br> +‘My opinion of death, brother, is much the same as that in the +old song of Pharaoh, which I have heard my grandam sing -<br> +<br> +<br> +Cana marel o manus chivios andé puv,<br> +Ta rovel pa leste o chavo ta romi.<br> +<br> +<br> +When a man dies, he is cast into the earth, and his wife and child sorrow +over him. If he has neither wife nor child, then his father and +mother, I suppose; and if he is quite alone in the world, why, then, +he is cast into the earth, and there is an end of the matter.’<br> +<br> +‘And do you think that is the end of a man?’<br> +<br> +‘There’s an end of him, brother, more’s the pity.’<br> +<br> +‘Why do you say so?’<br> +<br> +‘Life is sweet, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you think so?’<br> +<br> +‘Think so! - There’s night and day, brother, both sweet +things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things; there’s +likewise a wind on the heath. Life is very sweet, brother; who +would wish to die?’<br> +<br> +‘I would wish to die - ’<br> +<br> +‘You talk like a gorgio - which is the same as talking like a +fool - were you a Rommany Chal you would talk wiser. Wish to die, +indeed! - A Rommany Chal would wish to live for ever!’<br> +<br> +‘In sickness, Jasper?’<br> +<br> +‘There’s the sun and stars, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘In blindness, Jasper?’<br> +<br> +‘There’s the wind on the heath, brother; if I could only +feel that, I would gladly live for ever. Dosta, we’ll now +go to the tents and put on the gloves; and I’ll try to make you +feel what a sweet thing it is to be alive, brother!’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXVI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The flower of the grass - Days of pugilism - The rendezvous - Jews - +Bruisers of England - Winter, spring - Well-earned bays - The fight +- Huge black cloud - Frame of adamant - The storm - Dukkeripens - The +barouche - The rain-gushes.<br> +<br> +How for everything there is a time and a season, and then how does the +glory of a thing pass from it, even like the flower of the grass. +This is a truism, but it is one of those which are continually forcing +themselves upon the mind. Many years have not passed over my head, +yet, during those which I can recall to remembrance, how many things +have I seen flourish, pass away, and become forgotten, except by myself, +who, in spite of all my endeavours, never can forget anything. +I have known the time when a pugilistic encounter between two noted +champions was almost considered in the light of a national affair; when +tens of thousands of individuals, high and low, meditated and brooded +upon it, the first thing in the morning and the last at night, until +the great event was decided. But the time is past, and many people +will say, thank God that it is; all I have to say is, that the French +still live on the other side of the water, and are still casting their +eyes hitherward - and that in the days of pugilism it was no vain blast +to say that one Englishman was a match for two of t’other race; +at present it would be a vain boast to say so, for these are not the +days of pugilism.<br> +<br> +But those to which the course of my narrative has carried me were the +days of pugilism; it was then at its height, and consequently near its +decline, for corruption had crept into the ring; and how many things, +states and sects among the rest, owe their decline to this cause! +But what a bold and vigorous aspect pugilism wore at that time! and +the great battle was just then coming off: the day had been decided +upon, and the spot - a convenient distance from the old town; and to +the old town were now flocking the bruisers of England, men of tremendous +renown. Let no one sneer at the bruisers of England - what were +the gladiators of Rome, or the bull-fighters of Spain, in its palmiest +days, compared to England’s bruisers? Pity that ever corruption +should have crept in amongst them - but of that I wish not to talk; +let us still hope that a spark of the old religion, of which they were +the priests, still lingers in the breasts of Englishmen. There +they come, the bruisers, from far London, or from wherever else they +might chance to be at the time, to the great rendezvous in the old city; +some came one way, some another: some of tip-top reputation came with +peers in their chariots, for glory and fame are such fair things that +even peers are proud to have those invested therewith by their sides; +others came in their own gigs, driving their own bits of blood, and +I heard one say: ‘I have driven through at a heat the whole hundred +and eleven miles, and only stopped to bait twice.’ Oh, the +blood-horses of old England! but they, too, have had their day - for +everything beneath the sun there is a season and a time. But the +greater number come just as they can contrive; on the tops of coaches, +for example; and amongst these there are fellows with dark sallow faces +and sharp shining eyes; and it is these that have planted rottenness +in the core of pugilism, for they are Jews, and, true to their kind, +have only base lucre in view.<br> +<br> +It was fierce old Cobbett, I think, who first said that the Jews first +introduced bad faith amongst pugilists. He did not always speak +the truth, but at any rate he spoke it when he made that observation. +Strange people the Jews - endowed with every gift but one, and that +the highest, genius divine - genius which can alone make of men demigods, +and elevate them above earth and what is earthy and grovelling; without +which a clever nation - and, who more clever than the Jews? - may have +Rambams in plenty, but never a Fielding nor a Shakespeare. A Rothschild +and a Mendoza, yes - but never a Kean nor a Belcher.<br> +<br> +So the bruisers of England are come to be present at the grand fight +speedily coming off; there they are met in the precincts of the old +town, near the field of the chapel, planted with tender saplings at +the restoration of sporting Charles, which are now become venerable +elms, as high as many a steeple; there they are met at a fitting rendezvous, +where a retired coachman, with one leg, keeps an hotel and a bowling-green. +I think I now see them upon the bowling-green, the men of renown, amidst +hundreds of people with no renown at all, who gaze upon them with timid +wonder. Fame, after all, is a glorious thing, though it lasts +only for a day. There’s Cribb, the champion of England, +and perhaps the best man in England; there he is, with his huge massive +figure, and face wonderfully like that of a lion. There is Belcher, +the younger, not the mighty one, who is gone to his place, but the Teucer +Belcher, the most scientific pugilist that ever entered a ring, only +wanting strength to be, I won’t say what. He appears to +walk before me now, as he did that evening, with his white hat, white +greatcoat, thin genteel figure, springy step, and keen, determined eye. +Crosses him, what a contrast! grim, savage Shelton, who has a civil +word for nobody, and a hard blow for anybody - hard! one blow, given +with the proper play of his athletic arm, will unsense a giant. +Yonder individual, who strolls about with his hands behind him, supporting +his brown coat lappets, under-sized, and who looks anything but what +he is, is the king of the light weights, so called - Randall! the terrible +Randall, who has Irish blood in his veins; not the better for that, +nor the worse; and not far from him is his last antagonist, Ned Turner, +who, though beaten by him, still thinks himself as good a man, in which +he is, perhaps, right, for it was a near thing; and ‘a better +shentleman,’ in which he is quite right, for he is a Welshman. +But how shall I name them all? they were there by dozens, and all tremendous +in their way. There was Bulldog Hudson, and fearless Scroggins, +who beat the conqueror of Sam the Jew. There was Black Richmond +- no, he was not there, but I knew him well; he was the most dangerous +of blacks, even with a broken thigh. There was Purcell, who could +never conquer till all seemed over with him. There was - what! +shall I name thee last? ay, why not? I believe that thou art the +last of all that strong family still above the sod, where mayst thou +long continue - true piece of English stuff, Tom of Bedford - sharp +as Winter, kind as Spring.<br> +<br> +Hail to thee, Tom of Bedford, or by whatever name it may please thee +to be called, Spring or Winter. Hail to thee, six-foot Englishman +of the brown eye, worthy to have carried a six-foot bow at Flodden, +where England’s yeomen triumphed over Scotland’s king, his +clans and chivalry. Hail to thee, last of England’s bruisers, +after all the many victories which thou hast achieved - true English +victories, unbought by yellow gold; need I recount them? nay, nay! they +are already well known to fame - sufficient to say that Bristol’s +Bull and Ireland’s Champion were vanquished by thee, and one mightier +still, gold itself, thou didst overcome; for gold itself strove in vain +to deaden the power of thy arm; and thus thou didst proceed till men +left off challenging thee, the unvanquishable, the incorruptible. +’Tis a treat to see thee, Tom of Bedford, in thy ‘public’ +in Holborn way, whither thou hast retired with thy well-earned bays. +’Tis Friday night, and nine by Holborn clock. There sits +the yeoman at the end of his long room, surrounded by his friends; glasses +are filled, and a song is the cry, and a song is sung well suited to +the place; it finds an echo in every heart - fists are clenched, arms +are waved, and the portraits of the mighty fighting men of yore, Broughton, +and Slack, and Ben, which adorn the walls, appear to smile grim approbation, +whilst many a manly voice joins in the bold chorus:<br> +<br> +<br> +Here’s a health to old honest John Bull,<br> +When he’s gone we shan’t find such another,<br> +And with hearts and with glasses brim full,<br> +We will drink to old England, his mother.<br> +<br> +<br> +But the fight! with respect to the fight, what shall I say? Little +can be said about it - it was soon over; some said that the brave from +town, who was reputed the best man of the two, and whose form was a +perfect model of athletic beauty, allowed himself, for lucre vile, to +be vanquished by the massive champion with the flattened nose. +One thing is certain, that the former was suddenly seen to sink to the +earth before a blow of by no means extraordinary power. Time, +time! was called; but there he lay upon the ground apparently senseless, +and from thence he did not lift his head till several seconds after +the umpires had declared his adversary victor.<br> +<br> +There were shouts; indeed there’s never a lack of shouts to celebrate +a victory, however acquired; but there was also much grinding of teeth, +especially amongst the fighting men from town. ‘Tom has +sold us,’ said they, ‘sold us to the yokels; who would have +thought it?’ Then there was fresh grinding of teeth, and +scowling brows were turned to the heaven; but what is this? is it possible, +does the heaven scowl too? why, only a quarter of an hour ago . . . +but what may not happen in a quarter of an hour? For many weeks +the weather had been of the most glorious description, the eventful +day, too, had dawned gloriously, and so it had continued till some two +hours after noon; the fight was then over; and about that time I looked +up - what a glorious sky of deep blue, and what a big fierce sun swimming +high above in the midst of that blue; not a cloud - there had not been +one for weeks - not a cloud to be seen, only in the far west, just on +the horizon, something like the extremity of a black wing; that was +only a quarter of an hour ago, and now the whole northern side of the +heaven is occupied by a huge black cloud, and the sun is only occasionally +seen amidst masses of driving vapour; what a change! but another fight +is at hand, and the pugilists are clearing the outer ring; - how their +huge whips come crashing upon the heads of the yokels; blood flows, +more blood than in the fight; those blows are given with right good-will, +those are not sham blows, whether of whip or fist; it is with fist that +grim Shelton strikes down the big yokel; he is always dangerous, grim +Shelton, but now particularly so, for he has lost ten pounds betted +on the brave who sold himself to the yokels; but the outer ring is cleared: +and now the second fight commences; it is between two champions of less +renown than the others, but is perhaps not the worse on that account. +A tall thin boy is fighting in the ring with a man somewhat under the +middle size, with a frame of adamant; that’s a gallant boy! he’s +a yokel, but he comes from Brummagem, and he does credit to his extraction; +but his adversary has a frame of adamant: in what a strange light they +fight, but who can wonder, on looking at that frightful cloud usurping +now one-half of heaven, and at the sun struggling with sulphurous vapour; +the face of the boy, which is turned towards me, looks horrible in that +light, but he is a brave boy, he strikes his foe on the forehead, and +the report of the blow is like the sound of a hammer against a rock; +but there is a rush and a roar overhead, a wild commotion, the tempest +is beginning to break loose; there’s wind and dust, a crash, rain +and hail; is it possible to fight amidst such a commotion? yes! the +fight goes on; again the boy strikes the man full on the brow, but it +is of no use striking that man, his frame is of adamant. ‘Boy, +thy strength is beginning to give way, and thou art becoming confused’; +the man now goes to work, amidst rain and hail. ‘Boy, thou +wilt not hold out ten minutes longer against rain, hail, and the blows +of such an antagonist.’<br> +<br> +And now the storm was at its height; the black thunder-cloud had broken +into many, which assumed the wildest shapes and the strangest colours, +some of them unspeakably glorious; the rain poured in a deluge, and +more than one waterspout was seen at no great distance: an immense rabble +is hurrying in one direction; a multitude of men of all ranks, peers +and yokels, prize-fighters and Jews, and the last came to plunder, and +are now plundering amidst that wild confusion of hail and rain, men +and horses, carts and carriages. But all hurry in one direction, +through mud and mire; there’s a town only three miles distant, +which is soon reached, and soon filled, it will not contain one-third +of that mighty rabble; but there’s another town farther on - the +good old city is farther on, only twelve miles; what’s that! who +will stay here? onward to the old town.<br> +<br> +Hurry-skurry, a mixed multitude of men and horses, carts and carriages, +all in the direction of the old town; and, in the midst of all that +mad throng, at a moment when the rain-gushes were coming down with particular +fury, and the artillery of the sky was pealing as I had never heard +it peal before, I felt some one seize me by the arm - I turned round, +and beheld Mr. Petulengro.<br> +<br> +‘I can’t hear you, Mr. Petulengro,’ said I; for the +thunder drowned the words which he appeared to be uttering.<br> +<br> +‘Dearginni,’ I heard Mr. Petulengro say, ‘it thundreth. +I was asking, brother, whether you believe in dukkeripens?’<br> +<br> +‘I do not, Mr. Petulengro; but this is strange weather to be asking +me whether I believe in fortunes.’<br> +<br> +‘Grondinni,’ said Mr. Petulengro, ‘it haileth. +I believe in dukkeripens, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘And who has more right,’ said I; ‘seeing that you +live by them? But this tempest is truly horrible.’<br> +<br> +‘Dearginni, grondinni ta villaminni! It thundreth, it haileth, +and also flameth,’ said Mr. Petulengro. ‘Look up there, +brother!’<br> +<br> +I looked up. Connected with this tempest there was one feature +to which I have already alluded - the wonderful colours of the clouds. +Some were of vivid green; others of the brightest orange; others as +black as pitch. The gypsy’s finger was pointed to a particular +part of the sky.<br> +<br> +‘What do you see there, brother?’<br> +<br> +‘A strange kind of cloud.’<br> +<br> +‘What does it look like, brother?’<br> +<br> +‘Something like a stream of blood.’<br> +<br> +‘That cloud foreshoweth a bloody dukkeripen.’<br> +<br> +‘A bloody fortune!’ said I. ‘And whom may it +betide?’<br> +<br> +‘Who knows!’ said the gypsy.<br> +<br> +Down the way, dashing and splashing, and scattering man, horse, and +cart to the left and right, came an open barouche, drawn by four smoking +steeds, with postilions in scarlet jackets and leather skull-caps. +Two forms were conspicuous in it; that of the successful bruiser, and +of his friend and backer, the sporting gentleman of my acquaintance.<br> +<br> +‘His!’ said the gypsy, pointing to the latter, whose stern +features wore a smile of triumph, as, probably recognising me in the +crowd, he nodded in the direction of where I stood, as the barouche +hurried by.<br> +<br> +There went the barouche, dashing through the rain-gushes, and in it +one whose boast it was that he was equal to ‘either fortune.’ +Many have heard of that man - many may be desirous of knowing yet more +of him. I have nothing to do with that man’s after life +- he fulfilled his dukkeripen. ‘A bad, violent man!’ +Softly, friend; when thou wouldst speak harshly of the dead, remember +that thou hast not yet fulfilled thy own dukkeripen!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXVII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +My father - Premature decay - The easy-chair - A few questions - So +you told me - A difficult language - They can it Haik - Misused opportunities +- Saul - Want of candour - Don’t weep - Heaven forgive me - Dated +from Paris - I wish he were here - A father’s reminiscences - +Farewell to vanities.<br> +<br> +My father, as I have already informed the reader, had been endowed by +nature with great corporeal strength; indeed, I have been assured that, +at the period of his prime, his figure had denoted the possession of +almost Herculean powers. The strongest forms, however, do not +always endure the longest, the very excess of the noble and generous +juices which they contain being the cause of their premature decay. +But, be that as it may, the health of my father, some few years after +his retirement from the service to the quiet of domestic life, underwent +a considerable change; his constitution appeared to be breaking up; +and he was subject to severe attacks from various disorders, with which, +till then, he had been utterly unacquainted. He was, however, +wont to rally, more or less, after his illnesses, and might still occasionally +be seen taking his walk, with his cane in his hand, and accompanied +by his dog, who sympathised entirely with him, pining as he pined, improving +as he improved, and never leaving the house save in his company; and +in this manner matters went on for a considerable time, no very great +apprehension with respect to my father’s state being raised either +in my mother’s breast or my own. But, about six months after +the period at which I have arrived in my last chapter, it came to pass +that my father experienced a severer attack than on any previous occasion.<br> +<br> +He had the best medical advice; but it was easy to see, from the looks +of his doctors, that they entertained but slight hopes of his recovery. +His sufferings were great, yet he invariably bore them with unshaken +fortitude. There was one thing remarkable connected with his illness; +notwithstanding its severity, it never confined him to his bed. +He was wont to sit in his little parlour, in his easy-chair, dressed +in a faded regimental coat, his dog at his feet, who would occasionally +lift his head from the hearth-rug on which he lay, and look his master +wistfully in the face. And thus my father spent the greater part +of his time, sometimes in prayer, sometimes in meditation, and sometimes +in reading the Scriptures. I frequently sat with him, though, +as I entertained a great awe for my father, I used to feel rather ill +at ease, when, as sometimes happened, I found myself alone with him.<br> +<br> +‘I wish to ask you a few questions,’ said he to me one day, +after my mother had left the room.<br> +<br> +‘I will answer anything you may please to ask me, my dear father.’<br> +<br> +‘What have you been about lately?’<br> +<br> +‘I have been occupied as usual, attending at the office at the +appointed hours.’<br> +<br> +‘And what do you there?’<br> +<br> +‘Whatever I am ordered.’<br> +<br> +‘And nothing else?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh yes! sometimes I read a book.’<br> +<br> +‘Connected with your profession?’<br> +<br> +‘Not always; I have been lately reading Armenian - ’<br> +<br> +‘What’s that?’<br> +<br> +‘The language of a people whose country is a region on the other +side of Asia Minor.’<br> +<br> +‘Well!’<br> +<br> +‘A region abounding with mountains.’<br> +<br> +‘Well!’<br> +<br> +‘Amongst which is Mount Ararat.’<br> +<br> +‘Well!’<br> +<br> +‘Upon which, as the Bible informs us, the ark rested.’<br> +<br> +‘Well!’<br> +<br> +‘It is the language of the people of those regions - ’<br> +<br> +‘So you told me.’<br> +<br> +‘And I have been reading the Bible in their language.’<br> +<br> +‘Well!’<br> +<br> +‘Or rather, I should say, in the ancient language of these people; +from which I am told the modem Armenian differs considerably.’<br> +<br> +‘Well!’<br> +<br> +‘As much as the Italian from the Latin.’<br> +<br> +‘Well!’<br> +<br> +‘So I have been reading the Bible in ancient Armenian.’<br> +<br> +‘You told me so before.’<br> +<br> +‘I found it a highly difficult language.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘Differing widely from the languages in general with which I am +acquainted.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘Exhibiting, however, some features in common with them.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘And sometimes agreeing remarkably in words with a certain strange +wild speech with which I became acquainted - ’<br> +<br> +‘Irish?’<br> +<br> +‘No, father, not Irish - with which I became acquainted by the +greatest chance in the world.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘But of which I need say nothing farther at present, and which +I should not have mentioned but for that fact.’<br> +<br> +‘Well!’<br> +<br> +‘Which I consider remarkable.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘The Armenian is copious.’<br> +<br> +‘Is it?’<br> +<br> +‘With an alphabet of thirty-nine letters, but it is harsh and +guttural.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘Like the language of most mountainous people - the Armenians +call it Haik.’<br> +<br> +‘Do they?’<br> +<br> +‘And themselves, Haik, also; they are a remarkable people, and, +though their original habitation is the Mountain of Ararat, they are +to be found, like the Jews, all over the world.’<br> +<br> +‘Well!’<br> +<br> +‘Well, father, that’s all I can tell you about the Haiks, +or Armenians.’<br> +<br> +‘And what does it all amount to?’<br> +<br> +‘Very little, father; indeed, there is very little known about +the Armenians; their early history, in particular, is involved in considerable +mystery.’<br> +<br> +‘And, if you knew all that it was possible to know about them, +to what would it amount? to what earthly purpose could you turn it? +have you acquired any knowledge of your profession?’<br> +<br> +‘Very little, father.’<br> +<br> +‘Very little! Have you acquired all in your power?’<br> +<br> +‘I can’t say that I have, father.’<br> +<br> +‘And yet it was your duty to have done so. But I see how +it is, you have shamefully misused your opportunities; you are like +one who, sent into the field to labour, passes his time in flinging +stones at the birds of heaven.’<br> +<br> +‘I would scorn to fling a stone at a bird, father.’<br> +<br> +‘You know what I mean, and all too well, and this attempt to evade +deserved reproof by feigned simplicity is quite in character with your +general behaviour. I have ever observed about you a want of frankness, +which has distressed me; you never speak of what you are about, your +hopes, or your projects, but cover yourself with mystery. I never +knew till the present moment that you were acquainted with Armenian.’<br> +<br> +‘Because you never asked me, father; there’s nothing to +conceal in the matter - I will tell you in a moment how I came to learn +Armenian. A lady whom I met at one of Mrs. -’s parties took +a fancy to me, and has done me the honour to allow me to go and see +her sometimes. She is the widow of a rich clergyman, and on her +husband’s death came to this place to live, bringing her husband’s +library with her: I soon found my way to it, and examined every book. +Her husband must have been a learned man, for amongst much Greek and +Hebrew I found several volumes in Armenian, or relating to the language.’<br> +<br> +‘And why did you not tell me of this before?’<br> +<br> +‘Because you never questioned me; but, I repeat, there is nothing +to conceal in the matter. The lady took a fancy to me, and, being +fond of the arts, drew my portrait; she said the expression of my countenance +put her in mind of Alfieri’s Saul.’<br> +<br> +‘And do you still visit her?’<br> +<br> +‘No, she soon grew tired of me, and told people that she found +me very stupid; she gave me the Armenian books, however.’<br> +<br> +‘Saul,’ said my father, musingly, ‘Saul. I am +afraid she was only too right there; he disobeyed the commands of his +master, and brought down on his head the vengeance of Heaven - he became +a maniac, prophesied, and flung weapons about him.’<br> +<br> +‘He was, indeed, an awful character - I hope I shan’t turn +out like him.’<br> +<br> +‘God forbid!’ said my father, solemnly; ‘but in many +respects you are headstrong and disobedient like him. I placed +you in a profession, and besought you to make yourself master of it +by giving it your undivided attention. This, however, you did +not do, you know nothing of it, but tell me that you are acquainted +with Armenian; but what I dislike most is your want of candour - you +are my son, but I know little of your real history, you may know fifty +things for what I am aware: you may know how to shoe a horse for what +I am aware.’<br> +<br> +‘Not only to shoe a horse, father, but to make horse-shoes.’<br> +<br> +‘Perhaps so,’ said my father; ‘and it only serves +to prove what I was just saying, that I know little about you.’<br> +<br> +‘But you easily may, my dear father; I will tell you anything +that you may wish to know - shall I inform you how I learnt to make +horse-shoes?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said my father; ‘as you kept it a secret so +long, it may as well continue so still. Had you been a frank, +open-hearted boy, like one I could name, you would have told me all +about it of your own accord. But I now wish to ask you a serious +question - what do you propose to do?’<br> +<br> +‘To do, father?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes! the time for which you were articled to your profession +will soon be expired, and I shall be no more.’<br> +<br> +‘Do not talk so, my dear father; I have no doubt that you will +soon be better.’<br> +<br> +‘Do not flatter yourself; I feel that my days are numbered, I +am soon going to my rest, and I have need of rest, for I am weary. +There, there, don’t weep! Tears will help me as little as +they will you; you have not yet answered my question. Tell me +what you intend to do?’<br> +<br> +‘I really do not know what I shall do.’<br> +<br> +‘The military pension which I enjoy will cease with my life. +The property which I shall leave behind me will be barely sufficient +for the maintenance of your mother respectably. I again ask you +what you intend to do. Do you think you can support yourself by +your Armenian or your other acquirements?’<br> +<br> +‘Alas! I think little at all about it; but I suppose I must +push into the world, and make a good fight, as becomes the son of him +who fought Big Ben; if I can’t succeed, and am driven to the worst, +it is but dying - ’<br> +<br> +‘What do you mean by dying?’<br> +<br> +‘Leaving the world; my loss would scarcely be felt. I have +never held life in much value, and every one has a right to dispose +as he thinks best of that which is his own.’<br> +<br> +‘Ah! now I understand you; and well I know how and where you imbibed +that horrible doctrine, and many similar ones which I have heard from +your mouth; but I wish not to reproach you - I view in your conduct +a punishment for my own sins, and I bow to the will of God. Few +and evil have been my days upon the earth; little have I done to which +I can look back with satisfaction. It is true I have served my +king fifty years, and I have fought with - Heaven forgive me, what was +I about to say! - but you mentioned the man’s name, and our minds +willingly recall our ancient follies. Few and evil have been my +days upon earth, I may say with Jacob of old, though I do not mean to +say that my case is so hard as his; he had many undutiful children, +whilst I have only -; but I will not reproach you. I have also +like him a son to whom I can look with hope, who may yet preserve my +name when I am gone, so let me be thankful; perhaps, after all, I have +not lived in vain. Boy, when I am gone, look up to your brother, +and may God bless you both! There, don’t weep; but take +the Bible, and read me something about the old man and his children.’<br> +<br> +My brother had now been absent for the space of three years. At +first his letters had been frequent, and from them it appeared that +he was following his profession in London with industry; they then became +rather rare, and my father did not always communicate their contents. +His last letter, however, had filled him and our whole little family +with joy; it was dated from Paris, and the writer was evidently in high +spirits. After describing in eloquent terms the beauties and gaieties +of the French capital, he informed us how he had plenty of money, having +copied a celebrated picture of one of the Italian masters for a Hungarian +nobleman, for which he had received a large sum. ‘He wishes +me to go with him to Italy,’ added he, ‘but I am fond of +independence; and, if ever I visit old Rome, I will have no patrons +near me to distract my attention.’ But six months had now +elapsed from the date of this letter, and we had heard no further intelligence +of my brother. My father’s complaint increased; the gout, +his principal enemy, occasionally mounted high up in his system, and +we had considerable difficulty in keeping it from the stomach, where +it generally proves fatal. I now devoted almost the whole of my +time to my father, on whom his faithful partner also lavished every +attention and care. I read the Bible to him, which was his chief +delight; and also occasionally such other books as I thought might prove +entertaining to him. His spirits were generally rather depressed. +The absence of my brother appeared to prey upon his mind. ‘I +wish he were here,’ he would frequently exclaim; ‘I can’t +imagine what can have become of him; I trust, however, he will arrive +in time.’ He still sometimes rallied, and I took advantage +of those moments of comparative ease to question him upon the events +of his early life. My attentions to him had not passed unnoticed, +and he was kind, fatherly, and unreserved. I had never known my +father so entertaining as at these moments, when his life was but too +evidently drawing to a close. I had no idea that he knew and had +seen so much; my respect for him increased, and I looked upon him almost +with admiration. His anecdotes were in general highly curious; +some of them related to people in the highest stations, and to men whose +names were closely connected with some of the brightest glories of our +native land. He had frequently conversed - almost on terms of +familiarity - with good old George. He had known the conqueror +of Tippoo Saib; and was the friend of Townshend, who, when Wolfe fell, +led the British grenadiers against the shrinking regiments of Montcalm. +‘Pity,’ he added, ‘that when old - old as I am now +- he should have driven his own son mad by robbing him of his plighted +bride; but so it was; he married his son’s bride. I saw +him lead her to the altar; if ever there was an angelic countenance, +it was that girl’s; she was almost too fair to be one of the daughters +of women. Is there anything, boy, that you would wish to ask me? +now is the time.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, father; there is one about whom I would fain question you.’<br> +<br> +‘Who is it? shall I tell you about Elliot?’<br> +<br> +‘No, father, not about Elliot; but pray don’t be angry; +I should like to know something about Big Ben.’<br> +<br> +‘You are a strange lad,’ said my father; ‘and, though +of late I have begun to entertain a more favourable opinion than heretofore, +there is still much about you that I do not understand. Why do +you bring up that name? Don’t you know that it is one of +my temptations: you wish to know something about him. Well! +I will oblige you this once, and then farewell to such vanities - something +about him. I will tell you - his - skin when he flung off his +clothes - and he had a particular knack in doing so - his skin, when +he bared his mighty chest and back for combat; and when he fought he +stood, so . . . . if I remember right - his skin, I say, was brown and +dusky as that of a toad. Oh me! I wish my elder son was +here.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXVIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +My brother’s arrival - The interview - Night - A dying father +- Christ.<br> +<br> +At last my brother arrived; he looked pale and unwell; I met him at +the door. ‘You have been long absent,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said he, ‘perhaps too long; but how is my father?’<br> +<br> +‘Very poorly,’ said I, ‘he has had a fresh attack; +but where have you been of late?’<br> +<br> +‘Far and wide,’ said my brother; ‘but I can’t +tell you anything now, I must go to my father. It was only by +chance that I heard of his illness.’<br> +<br> +‘Stay a moment,’ said I. ‘Is the world such +a fine place as you supposed it to be before you went away?’<br> +<br> +‘Not quite,’ said my brother, ‘not quite; indeed I +wish - but ask me no questions now, I must hasten to my father.’ +There was another question on my tongue, but I forbore; for the eyes +of the young man were full of tears. I pointed with my finger, +and the young man hastened past me to the arms of his father.<br> +<br> +I forbore to ask my brother whether he had been to old Rome.<br> +<br> +What passed between my father and brother I do not know; the interview, +no doubt, was tender enough, for they tenderly loved each other; but +my brother’s arrival did not produce the beneficial effect upon +my father which I at first hoped it would; it did not even appear to +have raised his spirits. He was composed enough, however: ‘I +ought to be grateful,’ said he; ‘I wished to see my son, +and God has granted me my wish; what more have I to do now than to bless +my little family and go?’<br> +<br> +My father’s end was evidently at hand.<br> +<br> +And did I shed no tears? did I breathe no sighs? did I never wring my +hands at this period? the reader will perhaps be asking. Whatever +I did and thought is best known to God and myself; but it will be as +well to observe, that it is possible to feel deeply, and yet make no +outward sign.<br> +<br> +And now for the closing scene.<br> +<br> +At the dead hour of night, it might be about two, I was awakened from +sleep by a cry which sounded from the room immediately below that in +which I slept. I knew the cry, it was the cry of my mother; and +I also knew its import, yet I made no effort to rise, for I was for +the moment paralysed. Again the cry sounded, yet still I lay motionless +- the stupidity of horror was upon me. A third time, and it was +then that, by a violent effort, bursting the spell which appeared to +bind me, I sprang from the bed and rushed downstairs. My mother +was running wildly about the room; she had awoke, and found my father +senseless in the bed by her side. I essayed to raise him, and +after a few efforts supported him in the bed in a sitting posture. +My brother now rushed in, and, snatching up a light that was burning, +he held it to my father’s face. ‘The surgeon, the +surgeon!’ he cried; then, dropping the light, he ran out of the +room followed by my mother; I remained alone, supporting the senseless +form of my father; the light had been extinguished by the fall, and +an almost total darkness reigned in the room. The form pressed +heavily against my bosom - at last methought it moved. Yes, I +was right, there was a heaving of the breast, and then a gasping. +Were those words which I heard? Yes, they were words, low and +indistinct at first, and then audible. The mind of the dying man +was reverting to former scenes. I heard him mention names which +I had often heard him mention before. It was an awful moment; +I felt stupefied, but I still contrived to support my dying father. +There was a pause, again my father spoke: I heard him speak of Minden, +and of Meredith, the old Minden sergeant, and then he uttered another +name, which at one period of his life was much in his lips, the name +of . . . but this is a solemn moment! There was a deep gasp: I +shook, and thought all was over; but I was mistaken - my father moved, +and revived for a moment; he supported himself in bed without my assistance. +I make no doubt that for a moment he was perfectly sensible, and it +was then that, clasping his hands, he uttered another name clearly, +distinctly - it was the name of Christ. With that name upon his +lips, the brave old soldier sank back upon my bosom, and, with his hands +still clasped, yielded up his soul.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXIX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The greeting - Queer figure - Cheer up - The cheerful fire - It will +do - The sally forth - Trepidation - Let him come in.<br> +<br> +‘One-and-ninepence, sir, or the things which you have brought +with you will be taken away from you!’<br> +<br> +Such were the first words which greeted my ears, one damp misty morning +in March, as I dismounted from the top of a coach in the yard of a London +inn.<br> +<br> +I turned round, for I felt that the words were addressed to myself. +Plenty of people were in the yard - porters, passengers, coachmen, hostlers, +and others, who appeared to be intent on anything but myself, with the +exception of one individual, whose business appeared to lie with me, +and who now confronted me at the distance of about two yards.<br> +<br> +I looked hard at the man - and a queer kind of individual he was to +look at - a rakish figure, about thirty, and of the middle size, dressed +in a coat smartly cut, but threadbare, very tight pantaloons of blue +stuff, tied at the ankles, dirty white stockings and thin shoes, like +those of a dancing-master; his features were not ugly, but rather haggard, +and he appeared to owe his complexion less to nature than carmine; in +fact, in every respect, a very queer figure.<br> +<br> +‘One-and-ninepence, sir, or your things will be taken away from +you!’ he said, in a kind of lisping tone, coming yet nearer to +me.<br> +<br> +I still remained staring fixedly at him, but never a word answered. +Our eyes met; whereupon he suddenly lost the easy impudent air which +he before wore. He glanced, for a moment, at my fist, which I +had by this time clenched, and his features became yet more haggard; +he faltered; a fresh ‘one-and-ninepence,’ which he was about +to utter, died on his lips; he shrank back, disappeared behind a coach, +and I saw no more of him.<br> +<br> +‘One-and-ninepence, or my things will be taken away from me!’ +said I to myself, musingly, as I followed the porter to whom I had delivered +my scanty baggage; ‘am I to expect many of these greetings in +the big world? Well, never mind! I think I know the counter-sign!’ +And I clenched my fist yet harder than before.<br> +<br> +So I followed the porter, through the streets of London, to a lodging +which had been prepared for me by an acquaintance. The morning, +as I have before said, was gloomy, and the streets through which I passed +were dank and filthy; the people, also, looked dank and filthy; and +so, probably, did I, for the night had been rainy, and I had come upwards +of a hundred miles on the top of a coach; my heart had sunk within me, +by the time we reached a dark narrow street, in which was the lodging.<br> +<br> +‘Cheer up, young man,’ said the porter, ‘we shall +have a fine afternoon!’<br> +<br> +And presently I found myself in the lodging which had been prepared +for me. It consisted of a small room, up two pair of stairs, in +which I was to sit, and another still smaller above it, in which I was +to sleep. I remember that I sat down, and looked disconsolate +about me - everything seemed so cold and dingy. Yet how little +is required to make a situation - however cheerless at first sight - +cheerful and comfortable. The people of the house, who looked +kindly upon me, lighted a fire in the dingy grate; and, then, what a +change! - the dingy room seemed dingy no more! Oh the luxury of +a cheerful fire after a chill night’s journey! I drew near +to the blazing grate, rubbed my hands, and felt glad.<br> +<br> +And, when I had warmed myself, I turned to the table, on which, by this +time, the people of the house had placed my breakfast; and I ate and +I drank; and, as I ate and drank, I mused within myself, and my eyes +were frequently directed to a small green box, which constituted part +of my luggage, and which, with the rest of my things, stood in one corner +of the room, till at last, leaving my breakfast unfinished, I rose, +and, going to the box, unlocked it, and took out two or three bundles +of papers tied with red tape, and, placing them on the table, I resumed +my seat and my breakfast, my eyes intently fixed upon the bundles of +papers all the time.<br> +<br> +And when I had drained the last cup of tea out of a dingy teapot, and +ate the last slice of the dingy loaf, I untied one of the bundles, and +proceeded to look over the papers, which were closely written over in +a singular hand, and I read for some time, till at last I said to myself, +‘It will do.’ And then I looked at the other bundle +for some time without untying it; and at last I said, ‘It will +do also.’ And then I turned to the fire, and, putting my +feet against the sides of the grate, I leaned back on my chair, and, +with my eyes upon the fire, fell into deep thought.<br> +<br> +And there I continued in thought before the fire, until my eyes closed, +and I fell asleep; which was not to be wondered at, after the fatigue +and cold which I had lately undergone on the coach-top; and, in my sleep, +I imagined myself still there, amidst darkness and rain, hurrying now +over wild heaths, and now along roads overhung with thick and umbrageous +trees, and sometimes methought I heard the horn of the guard, and sometimes +the voice of the coachman, now chiding, now encouraging his horses, +as they toiled through the deep and miry ways. At length a tremendous +crack of a whip saluted the tympanum of my ear, and I started up broad +awake, nearly oversetting the chair on which I reclined - and lo! I +was in the dingy room before the fire, which was by this time half extinguished. +In my dream I had confounded the noise of the street with those of my +night journey; the crack which had aroused me I soon found proceeded +from the whip of a carter, who, with many oaths, was flogging his team +below the window.<br> +<br> +Looking at a clock which stood upon the mantelpiece, I perceived that +it was past eleven; whereupon I said to myself, ‘I am wasting +my time foolishly and unprofitably, forgetting that I am now in the +big world, without anything to depend upon save my own exertions’; +and then I adjusted my dress, and, locking up the bundle of papers which +I had not read, I tied up the other, and, taking it under my arm, I +went downstairs; and, after asking a question or two of the people of +the house, I sallied forth into the street with a determined look, though +at heart I felt somewhat timorous at the idea of venturing out alone +into the mazes of the mighty city, of which I had heard much, but of +which, of my own knowledge, I knew nothing.<br> +<br> +I had, however, no great cause for anxiety in the present instance; +I easily found my way to the place which I was in quest of - one of +the many new squares on the northern side of the metropolis, and which +was scarcely ten minutes’ walk from the street in which I had +taken up my abode. Arriving before the door of a tolerably large +house which bore a certain number, I stood still for a moment in a kind +of trepidation, looking anxiously at the door; I then slowly passed +on till I came to the end of the square, where I stood still, and pondered +for a while. Suddenly, however, like one who has formed a resolution, +I clenched my right hand, flinging my hat somewhat on one side, and, +turning back with haste to the door before which I had stopped, I sprang +up the steps, and gave a loud rap, ringing at the same time the bell +of the area. After the lapse of a minute the door was opened by +a maid-servant of no very cleanly or prepossessing appearance, of whom +I demanded, in a tone of some hauteur, whether the master of the house +was at home. Glancing for a moment at the white paper bundle beneath +my arm, the handmaid made no reply in words, but, with a kind of toss +of her head, flung the door open, standing on one side as if to let +me enter. I did enter; and the hand-maid, having opened another +door on the right hand, went in, and said something which I could not +hear: after a considerable pause, however, I heard the voice of a man +say, ‘Let him come in’; whereupon the handmaid, coming out, +motioned me to enter, and, on my obeying, instantly closed the door +behind me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The sinister glance - Excellent correspondent - Quite original - My +system - A losing trade - Merit - Starting a Review - What have you +got? - Stop! - <i>Dairyman’s Daughter</i> - Oxford principles +- More conversation - How is this?<br> +<br> +There were two individuals in the room in which I now found myself; +it was a small study, surrounded with bookcases, the window looking +out upon the square. Of these individuals he who appeared to be +the principal stood with his back to the fireplace. He was a tall +stout man, about sixty, dressed in a loose morning gown. The expression +of his countenance would have been bluff but for a certain sinister +glance, and his complexion might have been called rubicund but for a +considerable tinge of bilious yellow. He eyed me askance as I +entered. The other, a pale, shrivelled-looking person, sat at +a table apparently engaged with an account-book; he took no manner of +notice of me, never once lifting his eyes from the page before him.<br> +<br> +‘Well, sir, what is your pleasure?’ said the big man, in +a rough tone, as I stood there, looking at him wistfully - as well I +might - for upon that man, at the time of which I am speaking, my principal, +I may say my only, hopes rested.<br> +<br> +‘Sir,’ said I, ‘my name is so-and-so, and I am the +bearer of a letter to you from Mr. so-and-so, an old friend and correspondent +of yours.’<br> +<br> +The countenance of the big man instantly lost the suspicious and lowering +expression which it had hitherto exhibited; he strode forward, and, +seizing me by the hand, gave me a violent squeeze.<br> +<br> +‘My dear sir,’ said he, ‘I am rejoiced to see you +in London. I have been long anxious for the pleasure - we are +old friends, though we have never before met. Taggart,’ +said he to the man who sat at the desk, ‘this is our excellent +correspondent, the friend and pupil of our other excellent correspondent.’<br> +<br> +The pale, shrivelled-looking man slowly and deliberately raised his +head from the account-book, and surveyed me for a moment or two; not +the slightest emotion was observable in his countenance. It appeared +to me, however, that I could detect a droll twinkle in his eye: his +curiosity, if he had any, was soon gratified; he made me a kind of bow, +pulled out a snuff-box, took a pinch of snuff, and again bent his head +over the page.<br> +<br> +‘And now, my dear sir,’ said the big man, ‘pray sit +down, and tell me the cause of your visit. I hope you intend to +remain here a day or two.’<br> +<br> +‘More than that,’ said I, ‘I am come to take up my +abode in London.’<br> +<br> +‘Glad to hear it; and what have you been about of late? got anything +which will suit me? Sir, I admire your style of writing, and your +manner of thinking; and I am much obliged to my good friend and correspondent +for sending me some of your productions. I inserted them all, +and wished there had been more of them - quite original, sir, quite: +took with the public, especially the essay about the non-existence of +anything. I don’t exactly agree with you though; I have +my own peculiar ideas about matter - as you know, of course, from the +book I have published. Nevertheless, a very pretty piece of speculative +philosophy - no such thing as matter - impossible that there should +be - <i>ex nihilo</i> - what is the Greek? I have forgot - very +pretty indeed; very original.’<br> +<br> +‘I am afraid, sir, it was very wrong to write such trash, and +yet more to allow it to be published.’<br> +<br> +‘Trash! not at all; a very pretty piece of speculative philosophy; +of course you were wrong in saying there is no world. The world +must exist, to have the shape of a pear; and that the world is shaped +like a pear, and not like an apple, as the fools of Oxford say, I have +satisfactorily proved in my book. Now, if there were no world, +what would become of my system? But what do you propose to do +in London?’<br> +<br> +‘Here is the letter, sir,’ said I, ‘of our good friend, +which I have not yet given to you; I believe it will explain to you +the circumstances under which I come.’<br> +<br> +He took the letter, and perused it with attention. ‘Hem!’ +said he, with a somewhat altered manner, ‘my friend tells me that +you are come up to London with the view of turning your literary talents +to account, and desires me to assist you in my capacity of publisher +in bringing forth two or three works which you have prepared. +My good friend is perhaps not aware that for some time past I have given +up publishing - was obliged to do so - had many severe losses - do nothing +at present in that line, save sending out the Magazine once a month; +and, between ourselves, am thinking of disposing of that - wish to retire +- high time at my age - so you see - ’<br> +<br> +‘I am very sorry, sir, to hear that you cannot assist me’ +(and I remember that I felt very nervous); ‘I had hoped - ’<br> +<br> +‘A losing trade, I assure you, sir; literature is a drug. +Taggart, what o’clock is?’<br> +<br> +‘Well, sir!’ said I, rising, ‘as you cannot assist +me, I will now take my leave; I thank you sincerely for your kind reception, +and will trouble you no longer.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, don’t go. I wish to have some further conversation +with you; and perhaps I may hit upon some plan to benefit you. +I honour merit, and always make a point to encourage it when I can; +but - Taggart, go to the bank, and tell them to dishonour the bill twelve +months after date for thirty pounds which becomes due to-morrow. +I am dissatisfied with that fellow who wrote the fairy tales, and intend +to give him all the trouble in my power. Make haste.’<br> +<br> +Taggart did not appear to be in any particular haste. First of +all, he took a pinch of snuff, then, rising from his chair, slowly and +deliberately drew his wig, for he wore a wig of a brown colour, rather +more over his forehead than it had previously been, buttoned his coat, +and, taking his hat, and an umbrella which stood in a corner, made me +a low bow, and quitted the room.<br> +<br> +‘Well, sir, where were we? Oh, I remember, we were talking +about merit. Sir, I always wish to encourage merit, especially +when it comes so highly recommended as in the present instance. +Sir, my good friend and correspondent speaks of you in the highest terms. +Sir, I honour my good friend, and have the highest respect for his opinion +in all matters connected with literature - rather eccentric though. +Sir, my good friend has done my periodical more good and more harm than +all the rest of my correspondents. Sir, I shall never forget the +sensation caused by the appearance of his article about a certain personage +whom he proved - and I think satisfactorily - to have been a legionary +soldier - rather startling, was it not? The S- of the world a +common soldier, in a marching regiment - original, but startling; sir, +I honour my good friend.’<br> +<br> +‘So you have renounced publishing, sir,’ said I, ‘with +the exception of the Magazine?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, yes; except now and then, under the rose; the old coachman, +you know, likes to hear the whip. Indeed, at the present moment, +I am thinking of starting a Review on an entirely new and original principle; +and it just struck me that you might be of high utility in the undertaking +- what do you think of the matter?’<br> +<br> +‘I should be happy, sir, to render you any assistance, but I am +afraid the employment you propose requires other qualifications than +I possess; however, I can make the essay. My chief intention in +coming to London was to lay before the world what I had prepared; and +I had hoped by your assistance - ’<br> +<br> +‘Ah! I see, ambition! Ambition is a very pretty thing; +but, sir, we must walk before we run, according to the old saying - +what is that you have got under your arm?’<br> +<br> +‘One of the works to which I was alluding; the one, indeed, which +I am most anxious to lay before the world, as I hope to derive from +it both profit and reputation.’<br> +<br> +‘Indeed! what do you call it?’<br> +<br> +‘Ancient songs of Denmark, heroic and romantic, translated by +myself; with notes philological, critical, and historical.’<br> +<br> +‘Then, sir, I assure you that your time and labour have been entirely +flung away; nobody would read your ballads, if you were to give them +to the world to-morrow.’<br> +<br> +‘I am sure, sir, that you would say otherwise if you would permit +me to read one to you’; and, without waiting for the answer of +the big man, nor indeed so much as looking at him, to see whether he +was inclined or not to hear me, I undid my manuscript, and, with a voice +trembling with eagerness, I read to the following effect: -<br> +<br> +<br> +Buckshank bold and Elfinstone,<br> +And more than I can mention here,<br> +They caused to be built so stout a ship,<br> +And unto Iceland they would steer.<br> +<br> +They launched the ship upon the main,<br> +Which bellowed like a wrathful bear;<br> +Down to the bottom the vessel sank,<br> +A laidly Trold has dragged it there.<br> +<br> +Down to the bottom sank young Roland,<br> +And round about he groped awhile;<br> +Until he found the path which led<br> +Unto the bower of Ellenlyle.<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Stop!’ said the publisher; ‘very pretty indeed, and +very original; beats Scott hollow, and Percy too: but, sir, the day +for these things is gone by; nobody at present cares for Percy, nor +for Scott either, save as a novelist; sorry to discourage merit, sir, +but what can I do! What else have you got?’<br> +<br> +‘The songs of Ab Gwilym, the Welsh bard, also translated by myself, +with notes critical, philological, and historical.’<br> +<br> +‘Pass on - what else?’<br> +<br> +‘Nothing else,’ said I, folding up my manuscript with a +sigh, ‘unless it be a romance in the German style; on which, I +confess, I set very little value.’<br> +<br> +‘Wild?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, sir, very wild.’<br> +<br> +‘Like the Miller of the Black Valley?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, sir, very much like the Miller of the Black Valley.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, that’s better,’ said the publisher; ‘and +yet, I don’t know, I question whether any one at present cares +for the miller himself. No, sir, the time for those things is +also gone by; German, at present, is a drug; and, between ourselves, +nobody has contributed to make it so more than my good friend and correspondent; +- but, sir, I see you are a young gentleman of infinite merit, and I +always wish to encourage merit. Don’t you think you could +write a series of evangelical tales?’<br> +<br> +‘Evangelical tales, sir?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, sir, evangelical novels.’<br> +<br> +‘Something in the style of Herder?’<br> +<br> +‘Herder is a drug, sir; nobody cares for Herder - thanks to my +good friend. Sir, I have in yon drawer a hundred pages about Herder, +which I dare not insert in my periodical; it would sink it, sir. +No, sir, something in the style of the <i>Dairyman’s Daughter</i>.’<br> +<br> +‘I never heard of the work till the present moment.’<br> +<br> +‘Then, sir, procure it by all means. Sir, I could afford +as much as ten pounds for a well-written tale in the style of the <i>Dairyman’s +Daughter</i>; that is the kind of literature, sir, that sells at the +present day! It is not the Miller of the Black Valley - no, sir, +nor Herder either, that will suit the present taste; the evangelical +body is becoming very strong, sir; the canting scoundrels - ’<br> +<br> +‘But, sir, surely you would not pander to a scoundrelly taste?’<br> +<br> +‘Then, sir, I must give up business altogether. Sir, I have +a great respect for the goddess Reason - an infinite respect, sir; indeed, +in my time, I have made a great many sacrifices for her; but, sir, I +cannot altogether ruin myself for the goddess Reason. Sir, I am +a friend to Liberty, as is well known; but I must also be a friend to +my own family. It is with the view of providing for a son of mine +that I am about to start the Review of which I was speaking. He +has taken into his head to marry, sir, and I must do something for him, +for he can do but little for himself. Well, sir, I am a friend +to Liberty, as I said before, and likewise a friend to Reason; but I +tell you frankly that the Review which I intend to get up under the +rose, and present him with when it is established, will be conducted +on Oxford principles.’<br> +<br> +‘Orthodox principles, I suppose you mean, sir?’<br> +<br> +‘I do, sir; I am no linguist, but I believe the words are synonymous.’<br> +<br> +Much more conversation passed between us, and it was agreed that I should +become a contributor to the Oxford Review. I stipulated, however, +that, as I knew little of politics, and cared less, no other articles +should be required from me than such as were connected with belles-lettres +and philology; to this the big man readily assented. ‘Nothing +will be required from you,’ said he, ‘but what you mention; +and now and then, perhaps, a paper on metaphysics. You understand +German, and perhaps it would be desirable that you should review Kant; +and in a review of Kant, sir, you could introduce to advantage your +peculiar notions about <i>ex nihilo</i>.’ He then reverted +to the subject of the <i>Dairyman’s</i> <i>Daughter</i>, which +I promised to take into consideration. As I was going away, he +invited me to dine with him on the ensuing Sunday.<br> +<br> +‘That’s a strange man!’ said I to myself, after I +had left the house; ‘he is evidently very clever; but I cannot +say that I like him much, with his Oxford Reviews and Dairyman’s +Daughters. But what can I do? I am almost without a friend +in the world. I wish I could find some one who would publish my +ballads, or my songs of Ab Gwilym. In spite of what the big man +says, I am convinced that, once published, they would bring me much +fame and profit. But how is this? - what a beautiful sun! - the +porter was right in saying that the day would clear up - I will now +go to my dingy lodging, lock up my manuscripts, and then take a stroll +about the big city.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The walk - London’s Cheape - Street of the Lombards - Strange +bridge - Main arch - The roaring gulf - The boat - Cly-faking - A comfort +- The book - The blessed woman - No trap.<br> +<br> +So I set out on my walk to see the wonders of the big city, and, as +chance would have it, I directed my course to the east. The day, +as I have already said, had become very fine, so that I saw the great +city to advantage, and the wonders thereof: and much I admired all I +saw; and, amongst other things, the huge cathedral, standing so proudly +on the most commanding ground in the big city; and I looked up to the +mighty dome, surmounted by a golden cross, and I said within myself, +‘That dome must needs be the finest in the world’; and I +gazed upon it till my eyes reeled, and my brain became dizzy, and I +thought that the dome would fall and crush me; and I shrank within myself, +and struck yet deeper into the heart of the big city.<br> +<br> +‘O Cheapside! Cheapside!’ said I, as I advanced up that +mighty thoroughfare, ‘truly thou art a wonderful place for hurry, +noise, and riches! Men talk of the bazaars of the East - I have +never seen them - but I daresay that, compared with thee, they are poor +places, silent places, abounding with empty boxes, O thou pride of London’s +east! - mighty mart of old renown! - for thou art not a place of yesterday:- +long before the Roses red and white battled in fair England, thou didst +exist - a place of throng and bustle - place of gold and silver, perfumes +and fine linen. Centuries ago thou couldst extort the praises +even of the fiercest foes of England. Fierce bards of Wales, sworn +foes of England, sang thy praises centuries ago; and even the fiercest +of them all, Red Julius himself, wild Glendower’s bard, had a +word of praise for London’s ‘Cheape,’ for so the bards +of Wales styled thee in their flowing odes. Then, if those who +were not English, and hated England, and all connected therewith, had +yet much to say in thy praise, when thou wast far inferior to what thou +art now, why should true-born Englishmen, or those who call themselves +so, turn up their noses at thee, and scoff thee at the present day, +as I believe they do? But, let others do as they will, I, at least, +who am not only an Englishman, but an East Englishman, will not turn +up my nose at thee, but will praise and extol thee, calling thee mart +of the world - a place of wonder and astonishment! - and, were it right +and fitting to wish that anything should endure for ever, I would say +prosperity to Cheapside, throughout all ages - may it be the world’s +resort for merchandise, world without end.<br> +<br> +And when I had passed through the Cheape I entered another street, which +led up a kind of ascent, and which proved to be the street of the Lombards, +called so from the name of its first founders; and I walked rapidly +up the street of the Lombards, neither looking to the right nor left, +for it had no interest for me, though I had a kind of consciousness +that mighty things were being transacted behind its walls: but it wanted +the throng, bustle, and outward magnificence of the Cheape, and it had +never been spoken of by ‘ruddy bards’! And, when I +had got to the end of the street of the Lombards, I stood still for +some time, deliberating within myself whether I should turn to the right +or the left, or go straight forward, and at last I turned to the right, +down a street of rapid descent, and presently found myself upon a bridge +which traversed the river which runs by the big city.<br> +<br> +A strange kind of bridge it was; huge and massive, and seemingly of +great antiquity. It had an arched back, like that of a hog, a +high balustrade, and at either side, at intervals, were stone bowers +bulking over the river, but open on the other side, and furnished with +a semicircular bench. Though the bridge was wide - very wide - +it was all too narrow for the concourse upon it. Thousands of +human beings were pouring over the bridge. But what chiefly struck +my attention was a double row of carts and wagons, the generality drawn +by horses as large as elephants, each row striving hard in a different +direction, and not unfrequently brought to a stand-still. Oh the +cracking of whips, the shouts and oaths of the carters, and the grating +of wheels upon the enormous stones that formed the pavement! In +fact, there was a wild burly-burly upon the bridge, which nearly deafened +me. But, if upon the bridge there was a confusion, below it there +was a confusion ten times confounded. The tide, which was fast +ebbing, obstructed by the immense piers of the old bridge, poured beneath +the arches with a fall of several feet, forming in the river below as +many whirlpools as there were arches. Truly tremendous was the +roar of the descending waters, and the bellow of the tremendous gulfs, +which swallowed them for a time, and then cast them forth, foaming and +frothing from their horrid wombs. Slowly advancing along the bridge, +I came to the highest point, and there I stood still, close beside one +of the stone bowers, in which, beside a fruit-stall, sat an old woman, +with a pan of charcoal at her feet, and a book in her hand, in which +she appeared to be reading intently. There I stood, just above +the principal arch, looking through the balustrade at the scene that +presented itself - and such a scene! Towards the left bank of +the river, a forest of masts, thick and close, as far as the eye could +reach; spacious wharfs, surmounted with gigantic edifices; and, far +away, Caesar’s Castle, with its White Tower. To the right, +another forest of masts, and a maze of buildings, from which, here and +there, shot up to the sky chimneys taller than Cleopatra’s Needle, +vomiting forth huge wreaths of that black smoke which forms the canopy +- occasionally a gorgeous one - of the more than Babel city. Stretching +before me, the troubled breast of the mighty river, and, immediately +below, the main whirlpool of the Thames - the Maëlstrom of the +bulwarks of the middle arch - a grisly pool, which, with its superabundance +of horror, fascinated me. Who knows but I should have leapt into +its depths? - I have heard of such things - but for a rather startling +occurrence which broke the spell. As I stood upon the bridge, +gazing into the jaws of the pool, a small boat shot suddenly through +the arch beneath my feet. There were three persons in it; an oarsman +in the middle, whilst a man and woman sat at the stern. I shall +never forget the thrill of horror which went through me at this sudden +apparition. What! - a boat - a small boat - passing beneath that +arch into yonder roaring gulf! Yes, yes, down through that awful +water-way, with more than the swiftness of an arrow, shot the boat, +or skiff, right into the jaws of the pool. A monstrous breaker +curls over the prow - there is no hope; the boat is swamped, and all +drowned in that strangling vortex. No! the boat, which appeared +to have the buoyancy of a feather, skipped over the threatening horror, +and, the next moment, was out of danger, the boatman - a true boatman +of Cockaigne that - elevating one of his sculls in sign of triumph, +the man hallooing, and the woman, a true Englishwoman that - of a certain +class - waving her shawl. Whether any one observed them save myself, +or whether the feat was a common one, I know not; but nobody appeared +to take any notice of them. As for myself, I was so excited that +I strove to clamber up the balustrade of the bridge, in order to obtain +a better view of the daring adventurers. Before I could accomplish +my design, however, I felt myself seized by the body, and, turning my +head, perceived the old fruit-woman, who was clinging to me.<br> +<br> +‘Nay, dear! don’t - don’t!’ said she. +‘Don’t fling yourself over - perhaps you may have better +luck next time!’<br> +<br> +‘I was not going to fling myself over,’ said I, dropping +from the balustrade; ‘how came you to think of such a thing?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, seeing you clamber up so fiercely, I thought you might have +had ill luck, and that you wished to make away with yourself.’<br> +<br> +‘Ill luck,’ said I, going into the stone bower, and sitting +down. ‘What do you mean? ill luck in what?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, no great harm, dear! cly-faking perhaps.’<br> +<br> +‘Are you coming over me with dialects,’ said I, ‘speaking +unto me in fashions I wot nothing of?’<br> +<br> +‘Nay, dear! don’t look so strange with those eyes of your’n, +nor talk so strangely; I don’t understand you.’<br> +<br> +‘Nor I you; what do you mean by cly-faking?’<br> +<br> +‘Lor, dear! no harm; only taking a handkerchief now and then.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you take me for a thief?<br> +<br> +‘Nay, dear! don’t make use of bad language; we never calls +them thieves here, but prigs and fakers: to tell you the truth, dear, +seeing you spring at that railing put me in mind of my own dear son, +who is now at Bot’ny: when he had bad luck, he always used to +talk of flinging himself over the bridge; and, sure enough, when the +traps were after him, he did fling himself into the river, but that +was off the bank; nevertheless, the traps pulled him out, and he is +now suffering his sentence; so you see you may speak out, if you have +done anything in the harmless line, for I am my son’s own mother, +I assure you.’<br> +<br> +‘So you think there’s no harm in stealing?’<br> +<br> +‘No harm in the world, dear! Do you think my own child would +have been transported for it, if there had been any harm in it? and, +what’s more, would the blessed woman in the book here have written +her life as she has done, and given it to the world, if there had been +any harm in faking? She, too, was what they call a thief and a +cut-purse; ay, and was transported for it, like my dear son; and do +you think she would have told the world so, if there had been any harm +in the thing? Oh, it is a comfort to me that the blessed woman +was transported, and came back - for come back she did, and rich too +- for it is an assurance to me that my dear son, who was transported +too, will come back like her.’<br> +<br> +‘What was her name?’<br> +<br> +‘Her name, blessed Mary Flanders.’<br> +<br> +‘Will you let me look at the book?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, dear, that I will, if you promise me not to run away with +it.’<br> +<br> +I took the book from her hand; a short thick volume, at least a century +old, bound with greasy black leather. I turned the yellow and +dog’s-eared pages, reading here and there a sentence. Yes, +and no mistake! <i>His</i> pen, his style, his spirit might be +observed in every line of the uncouth-looking old volume - the air, +the style, the spirit of the writer of the book which first taught me +to read. I covered my face with my hand, and thought of my childhood. +. . .<br> +<br> +‘This is a singular book,’ said I at last; ‘but it +does not appear to have been written to prove that thieving is no harm, +but rather to show the terrible consequences of crime: it contains a +deep moral.’<br> +<br> +‘A deep what, dear?’<br> +<br> +‘A - but no matter, I will give you a crown for this volume.’<br> +<br> +‘No, dear, I will not sell the volume for a crown.’<br> +<br> +‘I am poor,’ said I; ‘but I will give you two silver +crowns for your volume.’<br> +<br> +‘No, dear, I will not sell my volume for two silver crowns; no, +nor for the golden one in the king’s tower down there; without +my book I should mope and pine, and perhaps fling myself into the river; +but I am glad you like it, which shows that I was right about you, after +all; you are one of our party, and you have a flash about that eye of +yours which puts me just in mind of my dear son. No, dear, I won’t +sell you my book; but, if you like, you may have a peep into it whenever +you come this way. I shall be glad to see you; you are one of +the right sort, for, if you had been a common one, you would have run +away with the thing; but you scorn such behaviour, and, as you are so +flash of your money, though you say you are poor, you may give me a +tanner to buy a little baccy with; I love baccy, dear, more by token +that it comes from the plantations to which the blessed woman was sent.’<br> +<br> +‘What’s a tanner?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Lor! don’t you know, dear? Why, a tanner is sixpence; +and, as you were talking just now about crowns, it will be as well to +tell you that those of our trade never calls them crowns, but bulls; +but I am talking nonsense, just as if you did not know all that already, +as well as myself; you are only shamming - I’m no trap, dear, +nor more was the blessed woman in the book. Thank you, dear - +thank you for the tanner; if I don’t spend it, I’ll keep +it in remembrance of your sweet face. What, you are going? - well, +first let me whisper a word to you. If you have any clies to sell +at any time, I’ll buy them of you; all safe with me; I never peach, +and scores a trap; so now, dear, God bless you! and give you good luck. +Thank you for your pleasant company, and thank you for the tanner.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The tanner - The hotel - Drinking claret - London journal - New field +- Commonplaceness - The three individuals - Botheration - Frank and +ardent.<br> +<br> +‘Tanner!’ said I musingly, as I left the bridge; ‘Tanner! +what can the man who cures raw skins by means of a preparation of oak +bark and other materials have to do with the name which these fakers, +as they call themselves, bestow on the smallest silver coin in these +dominions? Tanner! I can’t trace the connection between +the man of bark and the silver coin, unless journeymen tanners are in +the habit of working for sixpence a day. But I have it,’ +I continued, flourishing my hat over my head, ‘tanner, in this +instance, is not an English word.’ Is it not surprising +that the language of Mr. Petulengro and of Tawno Chikno is continually +coming to my assistance whenever I appear to be at a nonplus with respect +to the derivation of crabbed words? I have made out crabbed words +in AEschylus by means of the speech of Chikno and Petulengro, and even +in my Biblical researches I have derived no slight assistance from it. +It appears to be a kind of picklock, an open sesame, Tanner - Tawno! +the one is but a modification of the other; they were originally identical, +and have still much the same signification. Tanner, in the language +of the apple-woman, meaneth the smallest of English silver coins; and +Tawno, in the language of the Petulengres, though bestowed upon the +biggest of the Romans, according to strict interpretation signifieth +a little child.<br> +<br> +So I left the bridge, retracing my steps for a considerable way, as +I thought I had seen enough in the direction in which I had hitherto +been wandering; I should say that I scarcely walked less than thirty +miles about the big city on the day of my first arrival. Night +came on, but still I was walking about, my eyes wide open, and admiring +everything that presented itself to them. Everything was new to +me, for everything is different in London from what it is elsewhere +- the people, their language, the horses, the <i>tout ensemble</i> - +even the stones of London are different from others - at least it appeared +to me that I had never walked with the same case and facility on the +flagstones of a country town as on those of London; so I continued roving +about till night came on, and then the splendour of some of the shops +particularly struck me. ‘A regular Arabian Nights entertainment!’ +said I, as I looked into one on Cornhill, gorgeous with precious merchandise, +and lighted up with lustres, the rays of which were reflected from a +hundred mirrors.<br> +<br> +But, notwithstanding the excellence of the London pavement, I began +about nine o’clock to feel myself thoroughly tired; painfully +and slowly did I drag my feet along. I also felt very much in +want of some refreshment, and I remembered that since breakfast I had +taken nothing. I was now in the Strand, and, glancing about, I +perceived that I was close by an hotel, which bore over the door the +somewhat remarkable name of Holy Lands. Without a moment’s +hesitation I entered a well-lighted passage, and, turning to the left, +I found myself in a well-lighted coffee-room, with a well-dressed and +frizzled waiter before me, ‘Bring me some claret,’ said +I, for I was rather faint than hungry, and I felt ashamed to give a +humbler order to so well-dressed an individual. The waiter looked +at me for a moment; then, making a low bow, he bustled off, and I sat +myself down in the box nearest to the window. Presently the waiter +returned, bearing beneath his left arm a long bottle, and between the +fingers of his right hand two large purple glasses; placing the latter +on the table, he produced a corkscrew, drew the cork in a twinkling, +set the bottle down before me with a bang, and then, standing still, +appeared to watch my movements. You think I don’t know how +to drink a glass of claret, thought I to myself. I’ll soon +show you how we drink claret where I come from; and, filling one of +the glasses to the brim, I flickered it for a moment between my eyes +and the lustre, and then held it to my nose; having given that organ +full time to test the bouquet of the wine, I applied the glass to my +lips, taking a large mouthful of the wine, which I swallowed slowly +and by degrees, that the palate might likewise have an opportunity of +performing its functions. A second mouthful I disposed of more +summarily; then, placing the empty glass upon the table, I fixed my +eyes upon the bottle, and said - nothing; whereupon the waiter, who +had been observing the whole process with considerable attention, made +me a bow yet more low than before, and, turning on his heel, retired +with a smart chuck of his head, as much as to say, It is all right: +the young man is used to claret.<br> +<br> +And when the waiter had retired I took a second glass of the wine, which +I found excellent; and, observing a newspaper lying near me, I took +it up and began perusing it. It has been observed somewhere that +people who are in the habit of reading newspapers every day are not +unfrequently struck with the excellence of style and general talent +which they display. Now, if that be the case, how must I have +been surprised, who was reading a newspaper for the first time, and +that one of the best of the London journals! Yes, strange as it +may seem, it was nevertheless true that, up to the moment of which I +am speaking, I had never read a newspaper of any description. +I of course had frequently seen journals, and even handled them; but, +as for reading them, what were they to me? I cared not for news. +But here I was now with my claret before me, perusing, perhaps, the +best of all the London journals; it was not the -, and I was astonished: +an entirely new field of literature appeared to be opened to my view. +It was a discovery, but I confess rather an unpleasant one; for I said +to myself, If literary talent is so very common in London, that the +journals, things which, as their very name denotes, are ephemeral, are +written in a style like the article I have been perusing, how can I +hope to distinguish myself in this big town, when, for the life of me, +I don’t think I could write anything half so clever as what I +have been reading? And then I laid down the paper, and fell into +deep musing; rousing myself from which, I took a glass of wine, and, +pouring out another, began musing again. What I have been reading, +thought I, is certainly very clever and very talented; but talent and +cleverness I think I have heard some one say are very commonplace things, +only fitted for everyday occasions. I question whether the man +who wrote the book I saw this day on the bridge was a clever man; but, +after all, was he not something much better? I don’t think he +could have written this article, but then he wrote the book which I +saw on the bridge. Then, if he could not have written the article +on which I now hold my forefinger - and I do not believe he could - +why should I feel discouraged at the consciousness that I, too, could +not write it? I certainly could no more have written the article +than he could; but then, like him, though I would not compare myself +to the man who wrote the book I saw upon the bridge, I think I could +- and here I emptied the glass of claret - write something better.<br> +<br> +Thereupon I resumed the newspaper; and, as I was before struck with +the fluency of style and the general talent which it displayed, I was +now equally so with its commonplaceness and want of originality on every +subject; and it was evident to me that, whatever advantage these newspaper-writers +might have over me in some points, they had never studied the Welsh +bards, translated Kaempe Viser, or been under the pupilage of Mr. Petulengro +and Tawno Chikno.<br> +<br> +And as I sat conning the newspaper three individuals entered the room, +and seated themselves in the box at the farther end of which I was. +They were all three very well dressed; two of them elderly gentlemen, +the third a young man about my own age, or perhaps a year or two older: +they called for coffee; and, after two or three observations, the two +eldest commenced a conversation in French, which, however, though they +spoke it fluently enough, I perceived at once was not their native language; +the young man, however, took no part in their conversation, and when +they addressed a portion to him, which indeed was but rarely, merely +replied by a monosyllable. I have never been a listener, and I +paid but little heed to their discourse, nor indeed to themselves; as +I occasionally looked up, however, I could perceive that the features +of the young man, who chanced to be seated exactly opposite to me, wore +an air of constraint and vexation. This circumstance caused me +to observe him more particularly than I otherwise should have done: +his features were handsome and prepossessing; he had dark brown hair +and a high-arched forehead. After the lapse of half an hour, the +two elder individuals, having finished their coffee, called for the +waiter, and then rose as if to depart, the young man, however, still +remaining seated in the box. The others, having reached the door, +turned round, and, finding that the youth did not follow them, one of +them called to him with a tone of some authority; whereupon the young +man rose, and, pronouncing half audibly the word ‘botheration,’ +rose and followed them. I now observed that he was remarkably +tall. All three left the house. In about ten minutes, finding +nothing more worth reading in the newspaper, I laid it down, and though +the claret was not yet exhausted, I was thinking of betaking myself +to my lodgings, and was about to call the waiter, when I heard a step +in the passage, and in another moment the tall young man entered the +room, advanced to the same box, and, sitting down nearly opposite to +me, again pronounced to himself, but more audibly than before, the same +word.<br> +<br> +‘A troublesome world this, sir,’ said I, looking at him.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said the young man, looking fixedly at me; ‘but +I am afraid we bring most of our troubles on our own heads - at least +I can say so of myself,’ he added, laughing. Then, after +a pause, ‘I beg pardon,’ he said, ‘but am I not addressing +one of my own country?’<br> +<br> +‘Of what country are you?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Ireland.’<br> +<br> +‘I am not of your country, sir; but I have an infinite veneration +for your country, as Strap said to the French soldier. Will you +take a glass of wine?’<br> +<br> +‘Ah, de tout mon coeur, as the parasite said to Gil Blas,’ +cried the young man, laughing. ‘Here’s to our better +acquaintance!’<br> +<br> +And better acquainted we soon became; and I found that, in making the +acquaintance of the young man, I had indeed made a valuable acquisition; +he was accomplished, highly connected, and bore the name of Francis +Ardry. Frank and ardent he was, and in a very little time had +told me much that related to himself, and in return I communicated a +general outline of my own history; he listened with profound attention, +but laughed heartily when I told him some particulars of my visit in +the morning to the publisher, whom he had frequently heard of.<br> +<br> +We left the house together.<br> +<br> +‘We shall soon see each other again,’ said he, as we separated +at the door of my lodging.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Dine with the publisher - Religions - No animal food - Unprofitable +discussions - Principles of criticism - The book market - Newgate lives +- Goethe a drug - German acquirements - Moral dignity.<br> +<br> +On the Sunday I was punctual to my appointment to dine with the publisher. +As I hurried along the square in which his house stood, my thoughts +were fixed so intently on the great man, that I passed by him without +seeing him. He had observed me, however, and joined me just as +I was about to knock at the door. ‘Let us take a turn in +the square,’ said he, ‘we shall not dine for half an hour.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said he, as we were walking in the square, ‘what +have you been doing since I last saw you?’<br> +<br> +‘I have been looking about London,’ said I, ‘and I +have bought the <i>Dairyman’s Daughter</i>; here it is.’<br> +<br> +‘Pray put it up,’ said the publisher; ‘I don’t +want to look at such trash. Well, do you think you could write +anything like it?’<br> +<br> +‘I do not,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘How is that?’ said the publisher, looking at me.<br> +<br> +‘Because,’ said I, ‘the man who wrote it seems to +be perfectly well acquainted with his subject; and, moreover, to write +from the heart.’<br> +<br> +‘By the subject you mean - ’<br> +<br> +‘Religion.’<br> +<br> +‘And ain’t you acquainted with religion?’<br> +<br> +‘Very little.’<br> +<br> +‘I am sorry for that,’ said the publisher seriously, ‘for +he who sets up for an author ought to be acquainted not only with religion, +but religions, and indeed with all subjects, like my good friend in +the country. It is well that I have changed my mind about the +<i>Dairyman’s Daughter</i>, or I really don’t know whom +I could apply to on the subject at the present moment, unless to himself; +and after all I question whether his style is exactly suited for an +evangelical novel.’<br> +<br> +‘Then you do not wish for an imitation of the <i>Dairyman’s</i> +<i>Daughter</i>?’<br> +<br> +‘I do not, sir; I have changed my mind, as I told you before; +I wish to employ you in another line, but will communicate to you my +intentions after dinner.’<br> +<br> +At dinner, beside the publisher and myself, were present his wife and +son with his newly-married bride; the wife appeared a quiet respectable +woman, and the young people looked very happy and good-natured; not +so the publisher, who occasionally eyed both with contempt and dislike. +Connected with this dinner there was one thing remarkable; the publisher +took no animal food, but contented himself with feeding voraciously +on rice and vegetables prepared in various ways.<br> +<br> +‘You eat no animal food, sir?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘I do not, sir,’ said he; ‘I have forsworn it upwards +of twenty years. In one respect, sir, I am a Brahmin. I +abhor taking away life - the brutes have as much right to live as ourselves.’<br> +<br> +‘But,’ said I, ‘if the brutes were not killed, there +would be such a superabundance of them, that the land would be overrun +with them.’<br> +<br> +‘I do not think so, sir; few are killed in India, and yet there +is plenty of room.’<br> +<br> +‘But,’ said I, ‘Nature intended that they should be +destroyed, and the brutes themselves prey upon one another, and it is +well for themselves and the world that they do so. What would +be the state of things if every insect, bird, and worm were left to +perish of old age?’<br> +<br> +‘We will change the subject,’ said the publisher; ‘I +have never been a friend of unprofitable discussions.’<br> +<br> +I looked at the publisher with some surprise, I had not been accustomed +to be spoken to so magisterially; his countenance was dressed in a portentous +frown, and his eye looked more sinister than ever; at that moment he +put me in mind of some of those despots of whom I had read in the history +of Morocco, whose word was law. He merely wants power, thought +I to myself, to be a regular Muley Mehemet; and then I sighed, for I +remembered how very much I was in the power of that man.<br> +<br> +The dinner over, the publisher nodded to his wife, who departed, followed +by her daughter-in-law. The son looked as if he would willingly +have attended them; he, however, remained seated; and, a small decanter +of wine being placed on the table, the publisher filled two glasses, +one of which he handed to myself, and the other to his son; saying, +‘Suppose you two drink to the success of the Review. I would +join you,’ said he, addressing himself to me, ‘but I drink +no wine; if I am a Brahmin with respect to meat, I am a Mahometan with +respect to wine.’<br> +<br> +So the son and I drank success to the Review, and then the young man +asked me various questions; for example - How I liked London? - Whether +I did not think it a very fine place? - Whether I was at the play the +night before? - and whether I was in the park that afternoon? +He seemed preparing to ask me some more questions; but, receiving a +furious look from his father, he became silent, filled himself a glass +of wine, drank it off, looked at the table for about a minute, then +got up, pushed back his chair, made me a bow, and left the room.<br> +<br> +‘Is that young gentleman, sir,’ said I, ‘well versed +in the principles of criticism?’<br> +<br> +‘He is not, sir,’ said the publisher; ‘and, if I place +him at the head of the Review ostensibly, I do it merely in the hope +of procuring him a maintenance; of the principle of a thing he knows +nothing, except that the principle of bread is wheat, and that the principle +of that wine is grape. Will you take another glass?’<br> +<br> +I looked at the decanter; but, not feeling altogether so sure as the +publisher’s son with respect to the principle of what it contained, +I declined taking any more.<br> +<br> +‘No, sir,’ said the publisher, adjusting himself in his +chair, ‘he knows nothing about criticism, and will have nothing +more to do with the reviewals than carrying about the books to those +who have to review them; the real conductor of the Review will be a +widely different person, to whom I will, when convenient, introduce +you. And now we will talk of the matter which we touched upon +before dinner: I told you then that I had changed my mind with respect +to you; I have been considering the state of the market, sir, the book +market, and I have come to the conclusion that, though you might be +profitably employed upon evangelical novels, you could earn more money +for me, sir, and consequently for yourself, by a compilation of Newgate +lives and trials.’<br> +<br> +‘Newgate lives and trials!’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, sir,’ said the publisher, ‘Newgate lives and +trials; and now, sir, I will briefly state to you the services which +I expect you to perform, and the terms which I am willing to grant. +I expect you, sir, to compile six volumes of Newgate lives and trials, +each volume to contain by no manner of means less than one thousand +pages; the remuneration which you will receive when the work is completed +will be fifty pounds, which is likewise intended to cover any expenses +you may incur in procuring books, papers, and manuscripts necessary +for the compilation. Such will be one of your employments, sir, +- such the terms. In the second place, you will be expected to +make yourself useful in the Review - generally useful, sir - doing whatever +is required of you; for it is not customary, at least with me, to permit +writers, especially young writers, to choose their subjects. In +these two departments, sir, namely compilation and reviewing, I had +yesterday, after due consideration, determined upon employing you. +I had intended to employ you no farther, sir - at least for the present; +but, sir, this morning I received a letter from my valued friend in +the country, in which he speaks in terms of strong admiration (I don’t +overstate) of your German acquirements. Sir, he says that it would +be a thousand pities if your knowledge of the German language should +be lost to the world, or even permitted to sleep, and he entreats me +to think of some plan by which it may be turned to account. Sir, +I am at all times willing, if possible, to oblige my worthy friend, +and likewise to encourage merit and talent; I have, therefore, determined +to employ you in German.’<br> +<br> +‘Sir,’ said I, rubbing my hands, ‘you are very kind, +and so is our mutual friend; I shall be happy to make myself useful +in German; and if you think a good translation from Goethe - his <i>Sorrows</i> +for example, or more particularly his <i>Faust</i> - ’<br> +<br> +‘Sir,’ said the publisher, ‘Goethe is a drug; his +<i>Sorrows</i> are a drug, so is his <i>Faustus</i>, more especially +the last, since that fool - rendered him into English. No, sir, +I do not want you to translate Goethe or anything belonging to him; +nor do I want you to translate anything from the German; what I want +you to do, is to translate into German. I am willing to encourage +merit, sir; and, as my good friend in his last letter has spoken very +highly of your German acquirements, I have determined that you shall +translate my book of philosophy into German.’<br> +<br> +‘Your book of philosophy into German, sir?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, sir; my book of philosophy into German. I am not a +drug, sir, in Germany as Goethe is here, no more is my book. I +intend to print the translation at Leipzig, sir; and if it turns out +a profitable speculation, as I make no doubt it will, provided the translation +be well executed, I will make you some remuneration. Sir, your +remuneration will be determined by the success of your translation.’<br> +<br> +‘But, sir - ’<br> +<br> +‘Sir,’ said the publisher, interrupting me, ‘you have +heard my intentions; I consider that you ought to feel yourself highly +gratified by my intentions towards you; it is not frequently that I +deal with a writer, especially a young writer, as I have done with you. +And now, sir, permit me to inform you that I wish to be alone. +This is Sunday afternoon, sir; I never go to church, but I am in the +habit of spending part of every Sunday afternoon alone - profitably +I hope, sir - in musing on the magnificence of nature and the moral +dignity of man.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXIV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The two volumes - A young author - Intended editor - Quintilian - Loose +money.<br> +<br> +‘What can’t be cured must be endured,’ and ‘it +is hard to kick against the pricks.’<br> +<br> +At the period to which I have brought my history, I bethought me of +the proverbs with which I have headed this chapter, and determined to +act up to their spirit. I determined not to fly in the face of +the publisher, and to bear - what I could not cure - his arrogance and +vanity. At present, at the conclusion of nearly a quarter of a +century, I am glad that I came to that determination, which I did my +best to carry into effect<i>.<br> +<br> +</i>Two or three days after our last interview, the publisher made his +appearance in my apartment; he bore two tattered volumes under his arm, +which he placed on the table. ‘I have brought you two volumes +of lives, sir,’ said he, ‘which I yesterday found in my +garret; you will find them of service for your compilation. As +I always wish to behave liberally and encourage talent, especially youthful +talent, I shall make no charge for them, though I should be justified +in so doing, as you are aware that, by our agreement, you are to provide +any books and materials which may be necessary. Have you been +in quest of any?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘not yet.’<br> +<br> +‘Then, sir, I would advise you to lose no time in doing so; you +must visit all the bookstalls, sir, especially those in the by-streets +and blind alleys. It is in such places that you will find the +description of literature you are in want of. You must be up and +doing, sir; it will not do for an author, especially a young author, +to be idle in this town. To-night you will receive my book of +philosophy, and likewise books for the Review. And, by the bye, +sir, it will be as well for you to review my book of philosophy for +the Review; the other reviews not having noticed it. Sir, before +translating it, I wish you to review my book of philosophy for the Review.’<br> +<br> +‘I shall be happy to do my best, sir.’<br> +<br> +‘Very good, sir; I should be unreasonable to expect anything beyond +a person’s best. And now, sir, if you please, I will conduct +you to the future editor of the Review. As you are to co-operate, +sir, I deem it right to make you acquainted.’<br> +<br> +The intended editor was a little old man, who sat in a kind of wooden +pavilion in a small garden behind a house in one of the purlieus of +the city, composing tunes upon a piano. The walls of the pavilion +were covered with fiddles of various sizes and appearances, and a considerable +portion of the floor occupied by a pile of books all of one size. +The publisher introduced him to me as a gentleman scarcely less eminent +in literature than in music, and me to him as an aspirant critic - a +young gentleman scarcely less eminent in philosophy than in philology. +The conversation consisted entirely of compliments till just before +we separated, when the future editor inquired of me whether I had ever +read Quintilian; and, on my replying in the negative, expressed his +surprise that any gentleman should aspire to become a critic who had +never read Quintilian, with the comfortable information, however, that +he could supply me with a Quintilian at half-price, that is, a translation +made by himself some years previously, of which he had, pointing to +the heap on the floor, still a few copies remaining unsold. For +some reason or other, perhaps a poor one, I did not purchase the editor’s +translation of Quintilian.<br> +<br> +‘Sir,’ said the publisher, as we were returning from our +visit to the editor, ‘you did right in not purchasing a drug. +I am not prepared, sir, to say that Quintilian is a drug, never having +seen him; but I am prepared to say that man’s translation is a +drug, judging from the heap of rubbish on the floor; besides, sir, you +will want any loose money you may have to purchase the description of +literature which is required for your compilation.’<br> +<br> +The publisher presently paused before the entrance of a very forlorn-looking +street. ‘Sir,’ said he, after looking down it with +attention, ‘I should not wonder if in that street you find works +connected with the description of literature which is required for your +compilation. It is in streets of this description, sir, and blind +alleys, where such works are to be found. You had better search +that street, sir, whilst I continue my way.’<br> +<br> +I searched the street to which the publisher had pointed, and, in the +course of the three succeeding days, many others of a similar kind. +I did not find the description of literature alluded to by the publisher +to be a drug, but, on the contrary, both scarce and dear. I had +expended much more than my loose money long before I could procure materials +even for the first volume of my compilation.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Francis Ardry - Certain sharpers - Brave and eloquent - Opposites - +Flinging the bones - Strange places - Dog-fighting - Learning and letters +- Batch of dogs - Redoubled application.<br> +<br> +One evening I was visited by the tall young gentleman, Francis Ardry, +whose acquaintance I had formed at the coffee-house. As it is +necessary that the reader should know something more about this young +man, who will frequently appear in the course of these pages, I will +state in a few words who and what he was. He was born of an ancient +Roman Catholic family in Ireland; his parents, whose only child he was, +had long been dead. His father, who had survived his mother several +years, had been a spendthrift, and at his death had left the family +property considerably embarrassed. Happily, however, the son and +the estate fell into the hands of careful guardians, near relations +of the family, by whom the property was managed to the best advantage, +and every means taken to educate the young man in a manner suitable +to his expectations. At the age of sixteen he was taken from a +celebrated school in England at which he had been placed, and sent to +a small French university, in order that he might form an intimate and +accurate acquaintance with the grand language of the continent. +There he continued three years, at the end of which he went under the +care of a French abbé to Germany and Italy. It was in this +latter country that he first began to cause his guardians serious uneasiness. +He was in the heyday of youth when he visited Italy, and he entered +wildly into the various delights of that fascinating region, and, what +was worse, falling into the hands of certain sharpers, not Italian, +but English, he was fleeced of considerable sums of money. The +abbé, who, it seems, was an excellent individual of the old French +school, remonstrated with his pupil on his dissipation and extravagance; +but, finding his remonstrances vain, very properly informed the guardians +of the manner of life of his charge. They were not slow in commanding +Francis Ardry home; and, as he was entirely in their power, he was forced +to comply. He had been about three months in London when I met +him in the coffee-room, and the two elderly gentlemen in his company +were his guardians. At this time they were very solicitous that +he should choose for himself a profession, offering to his choice either +the army or law - he was calculated to shine in either of these professions +- for, like many others of his countrymen, he was brave and eloquent; +but he did not wish to shackle himself with a profession. As, +however, his minority did not terminate till he was three-and-twenty, +of which age he wanted nearly two years, during which he would be entirely +dependent on his guardians, he deemed it expedient to conceal, to a +certain degree, his sentiments, temporising with the old gentlemen, +with whom, notwithstanding his many irregularities, he was a great favourite, +and at whose death he expected to come into a yet greater property than +that which he inherited from his parents.<br> +<br> +Such is a brief account of Francis Ardry - of my friend Francis Ardry; +for the acquaintance, commenced in the singular manner with which the +reader is acquainted, speedily ripened into a friendship which endured +through many long years of separation, and which still endures certainly +on my part, and on his - if he lives; but it is many years since I have +heard from Francis Ardry.<br> +<br> +And yet many people would have thought it impossible for our friendship +to have lasted a week - for in many respects no two people could be +more dissimilar. He was an Irishman - I, an Englishman; - he, +fiery, enthusiastic, and open-hearted; I, neither fiery, enthusiastic, +nor open-hearted; - he, fond of pleasure and dissipation; I, of study +and reflection. Yet it is of such dissimilar elements that the +most lasting friendships are formed: we do not like counterparts of +ourselves. ‘Two great talkers will not travel far together,’ +is a Spanish saying; I will add, ‘Nor two silent people’; +we naturally love our opposites.<br> +<br> +So Francis Ardry came to see me, and right glad I was to see him, for +I had just flung my books and papers aside, and was wishing for a little +social converse; and when we had conversed for some little time together, +Francis Ardry proposed that we should go to the play to see Kean; so +we went to the play, and saw - not Kean, who at that time was ashamed +to show himself, but - a man who was not ashamed to show himself, and +who people said was a much better man than Kean - as I have no doubt +he was - though whether he was a better actor I cannot say, for I never +saw Kean.<br> +<br> +Two or three evenings after Francis Ardry came to see me again, and +again we went out together, and Francis Ardry took me to - shall I say? +- why not? - a gaming-house, where I saw people playing, and where I +saw Francis Ardry play and lose five guineas, and where I lost nothing, +because I did not play, though I felt somewhat inclined; for a man with +a white hat and a sparkling eye held up a box which contained something +which rattled, and asked me to fling the bones. ‘There is +nothing like flinging the bones!’ said he, and then I thought +I should like to know what kind of thing flinging the bones was; I, +however, restrained myself. ‘There is nothing like flinging +the bones!’ shouted the man, as my friend and myself left the +room.<br> +<br> +Long life and prosperity to Francis Ardry! but for him I should not +have obtained knowledge which I did of the strange and eccentric places +of London. Some of the places to which he took me were very strange +places indeed; but, however strange the places were, I observed that +the inhabitants thought there were no places like their several places, +and no occupations like their several occupations; and among other strange +places to which Francis Ardry conducted me was a place not far from +the abbey church of Westminster.<br> +<br> +Before we entered this place our ears were greeted by a confused hubbub +of human voices, squealing of rats, barking of dogs, and the cries of +various other animals. Here we beheld a kind of cock-pit, around +which a great many people, seeming of all ranks, but chiefly of the +lower, were gathered, and in it we saw a dog destroy a great many rats +in a very small period; and when the dog had destroyed the rats, we +saw a fight between a dog and a bear, then a fight between two dogs, +then . . . .<br> +<br> +After the diversions of the day were over, my friend introduced me to +the genius of the place, a small man of about five feet high, with a +very sharp countenance, and dressed in a brown jockey coat and top boots. +‘Joey,’ said he, ‘this is a friend of mine.’ +Joey nodded to me with a patronising air. ‘Glad to see you, +sir! - want a dog?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘You have got one, then - want to match him?’<br> +<br> +‘We have a dog at home,’ said I, ‘in the country; +but I can’t say I should like to match him. Indeed, I do +not like dog-fighting.’<br> +<br> +‘Not like dog-fighting!’ said the man, staring.<br> +<br> +‘The truth is, Joe, that he is just come to town.’<br> +<br> +‘So I should think; he looks rather green - not like dog-fighting!’<br> +<br> +‘Nothing like it, is there, Joey?’<br> +<br> +‘I should think not; what is like it? A time will come, +and that speedily, when folks will give up everything else, and follow +dog-fighting.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you think so?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Think so? Let me ask what there is that a man wouldn’t +give up for it?’<br> +<br> +‘Why,’ said I, modestly, ‘there’s religion.’<br> +<br> +‘Religion! How you talk. Why, there’s myself +bred and born an Independent, and intended to be a preacher, didn’t +I give up religion for dog-fighting? Religion, indeed! If +it were not for the rascally law, my pit would fill better on Sundays +than any other time. Who would go to church when they could come +to my pit? Religion! why, the parsons themselves come to my pit; +and I have now a letter in my pocket from one of them, asking me to +send him a dog.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, then, politics,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Politics! Why, the gemmen in the House would leave Pitt +himself, if he were alive, to come to my pit. There were three +of the best of them here to-night, all great horators. - Get on with +you, what comes next?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, there’s learning and letters.’<br> +<br> +‘Pretty things, truly, to keep people from dog-fighting. +Why, there’s the young gentlemen from the Abbey School comes here +in shoals, leaving books, and letters, and masters too. To tell +you the truth, I rather wish they would mind their letters, for a more +precious set of young blackguards I never seed. It was only the +other day I was thinking of calling in a constable for my own protection, +for I thought my pit would have been torn down by them.’<br> +<br> +Scarcely knowing what to say, I made an observation at random. +‘You show, by your own conduct,’ said I, ‘that there +are other things worth following besides dog-fighting. You practise +rat-catching and badger-baiting as well.’<br> +<br> +The dog-fancier eyed me with supreme contempt.<br> +<br> +‘Your friend here,’ said he, ‘might well call you +a new one. When I talks of dog-fighting, I of course means rat-catching, +and badger-baiting, ay, and bull-baiting too, just as when I speaks +religiously, when I says one I means not one but three. And talking +of religion puts me in mind that I have something else to do besides +chaffing here, having a batch of dogs to send off by this night’s +packet to the Pope of Rome.’<br> +<br> +But at last I had seen enough of what London had to show, whether strange +or commonplace, so at least I thought, and I ceased to accompany my +friend in his rambles about town, and to partake of his adventures. +Our friendship, however, still continued unabated, though I saw, in +consequence, less of him. I reflected that time was passing on +- that the little money I had brought to town was fast consuming, and +that I had nothing to depend upon but my own exertions for a fresh supply; +and I returned with redoubled application to my pursuits.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXVI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Occupations - Traduttore traditore - Ode to the Mist - Apple and pear +- Reviewing - Current literature - Oxford-like manner - A plain story +- Ill-regulated mind - Unsnuffed candle - Strange dreams.<br> +<br> +I compiled the Chronicles of Newgate; I reviewed books for the Review +established on an entirely new principle; and I occasionally tried my +best to translate into German portions of the publisher’s philosophy. +In this last task I experienced more than one difficulty. I was +a tolerable German scholar, it is true, and I had long been able to +translate from German into English with considerable facility; but to +translate from a foreign language into your own is a widely different +thing from translating from your own into a foreign language; and, in +my first attempt to render the publisher into German, I was conscious +of making miserable failures, from pure ignorance of German grammar; +however, by the assistance of grammars and dictionaries, and by extreme +perseverance, I at length overcame all the difficulties connected with +the German language. But, alas! another difficulty remained, far +greater than any connected with German - a difficulty connected with +the language of the publisher - the language which the great man employed +in his writings was very hard to understand; I say in his writings - +for his colloquial English was plain enough. Though not professing +to be a scholar, he was much addicted, when writing, to the use of Greek +and Latin terms, not as other people used them, but in a manner of his +own, which set the authority of dictionaries at defiance; the consequence +was that I was sometimes utterly at a loss to understand the meaning +of the publisher. Many a quarter of an hour did I pass at this +period, staring at periods of the publisher, and wondering what he could +mean, but in vain, till at last, with a shake of the head, I would snatch +up the pen, and render the publisher literally into German. Sometimes +I was almost tempted to substitute something of my own for what the +publisher had written, but my conscience interposed; the awful words, +Traduttore traditore, commenced ringing in my ears, and I asked myself +whether I should be acting honourably towards the publisher, who had +committed to me the delicate task of translating him into German; should +I be acting honourably towards him, in making him speak in German in +a manner different from that in which he expressed himself in English? +No, I could not reconcile such conduct with any principle of honour; +by substituting something of my own in lieu of these mysterious passages +of the publisher, I might be giving a fatal blow to his whole system +of philosophy. Besides, when translating into English, had I treated +foreign authors in this manner? Had I treated the minstrels of +the Kaempe Viser in this manner? - No. Had I treated Ab Gwilym +in this manner? Even when translating his Ode to the Mist, in +which he is misty enough, had I attempted to make Ab Gwilym less misty? +No; on referring to my translation, I found that Ab Gwilym in my hands +was quite as misty as in his own. Then, seeing that I had not +ventured to take liberties with people who had never put themselves +into my hands for the purpose of being rendered, how could I venture +to substitute my own thoughts and ideas for the publisher’s, who +had put himself into my hands for that purpose? Forbid it every +proper feeling! - so I told the Germans, in the publisher’s own +way, the publisher’s tale of an apple and a pear.<br> +<br> +I at first felt much inclined to be of the publisher’s opinion +with respect to the theory of the pear. After all, why should +the earth be shaped like an apple, and not like a pear? - it would certainly +gain in appearance by being shaped like a pear. A pear being a +handsomer fruit than an apple, the publisher is probably right, thought +I, and I will say that he is right on this point in the notice which +I am about to write of his publication for the Review. And yet +I don’t know - said I, after a long fit of musing - I don’t +know but what there is more to be said for the Oxford theory. +The world may be shaped like a pear, but I don’t know that it +is; but one thing I know, which is, that it does not taste like a pear; +I have always liked pears, but I don’t like the world. The +world to me tastes much more like an apple, and I have never liked apples. +I will uphold the Oxford theory - besides, I am writing in an Oxford +Review, and am in duty bound to uphold the Oxford theory. So in +my notice I asserted that the world was round; I quoted Scripture, and +endeavoured to prove that the world was typified by the apple in Scripture, +both as to shape and properties. ‘An apple is round,’ +said I, ‘and the world is round - the apple is a sour, disagreeable +fruit; and who has tasted much of the world without having his teeth +set on edge?’ I, however, treated the publisher, upon the +whole, in the most urbane and Oxford-like manner; complimenting him +upon his style, acknowledging the general soundness of his views, and +only differing with him in the affair of the apple and pear.<br> +<br> +I did not like reviewing at all - it was not to my taste; it was not +in my way; I liked it far less than translating the publisher’s +philosophy, for that was something in the line of one whom a competent +judge had surnamed Lavengro. I never could understand why reviews +were instituted; works of merit do not require to be reviewed, they +can speak for themselves, and require no praising; works of no merit +at all will die of themselves, they require no killing. The Review +to which I was attached was, as has been already intimated, established +on an entirely new plan; it professed to review all new publications, +which certainly no Review had ever professed to do before, other Reviews +never pretending to review more than one-tenth of the current literature +of the day. When I say it professed to review all new publications, +I should add, which should be sent to it; for, of course, the Review +would not acknowledge the existence of publications, the authors of +which did not acknowledge the existence of the Review. I don’t +think, however, that the Review had much cause to complain of being +neglected; I have reason to believe that at least nine-tenths of the +publications of the day were sent to the Review, and in due time reviewed. +I had good opportunity of judging - I was connected with several departments +of the Review, though more particularly with the poetical and philosophic +ones. An English translation of Kant’s philosophy made its +appearance on my table the day before its publication. In my notice +of this work I said that the English shortly hoped to give the Germans +a <i>quid pro quo</i>. I believe at that time authors were much +in the habit of publishing at their own expense. All the poetry +which I reviewed appeared to be published at the expense of the authors. +If I am asked how I comported myself, under all circumstances, as a +reviewer - I answer, - I did not forget that I was connected with a +Review established on Oxford principles, the editor of which had translated +Quintilian. All the publications which fell under my notice I +treated in a gentlemanly and Oxford-like manner, no personalities - +no vituperation - no shabby insinuations; decorum, decorum was the order +of the day. Occasionally a word of admonition, but gently expressed, +as an Oxford undergraduate might have expressed it, or master of arts. +How the authors whose publications were consigned to my colleagues were +treated by them I know not; I suppose they were treated in an urbane +and Oxford-like manner, but I cannot say; I did not read the reviewals +of my colleagues, I did not read my own after they were printed. +I did not like reviewing.<br> +<br> +Of all my occupations at this period I am free to confess I liked that +of compiling the <i>Newgate Lives and Trials</i> the best; that is, +after I had surmounted a kind of prejudice which I originally entertained. +The trials were entertaining enough; but the lives - how full were they +of wild and racy adventures, and in what racy, genuine language were +they told! What struck me most with respect to these lives was +the art which the writers, whoever they were, possessed of telling a +plain story. It is no easy thing to tell a story plainly and distinctly +by mouth; but to tell one on paper is difficult indeed, so many snares +lie in the way. People are afraid to put down what is common on +paper, they seek to embellish their narratives, as they think, by philosophic +speculations and reflections; they are anxious to shine, and people +who are anxious to shine can never tell a plain story. ‘So +I went with them to a music booth, where they made me almost drunk with +gin, and began to talk their flash language, which I did not understand,’ +says, or is made to say, Henry Simms, executed at Tyburn some seventy +years before the time of which I am speaking. I have always looked +upon this sentence as a masterpiece of the narrative style, it is so +concise and yet so very clear. As I gazed on passages like this, +and there were many nearly as good in the Newgate lives, I often sighed +that it was not my fortune to have to render these lives into German +rather than the publisher’s philosophy - his tale of an apple +and pear.<br> +<br> +Mine was an ill-regulated mind at this period. As I read over +the lives of these robbers and pickpockets, strange doubts began to +arise in my mind about virtue and crime. Years before, when quite +a boy, as in one of the early chapters I have hinted, I had been a necessitarian; +I had even written an essay on crime (I have it now before me, penned +in a round boyish hand), in which I attempted to prove that there is +no such thing as crime or virtue, all our actions being the result of +circumstances or necessity. These doubts were now again reviving +in my mind; I could not, for the life of me, imagine how, taking all +circumstances into consideration, these highwaymen, these pickpockets, +should have been anything else than highwaymen and pickpockets; any +more than how, taking all circumstances into consideration, Bishop Latimer +(the reader is aware that I had read Foxe’s <i>Book of Martyrs</i>) +should have been anything else than Bishop Latimer. I had a very +ill-regulated mind at that period.<br> +<br> +My own peculiar ideas with respect to everything being a lying dream +began also to revive. Sometimes at midnight, after having toiled +for hours at my occupations, I would fling myself back on my chair, +look about the poor apartment, dimly lighted by an unsnuffed candle, +or upon the heaps of books and papers before me, and exclaim, - ‘Do +I exist? Do these things, which I think I see about me, exist, +or do they not? Is not everything a dream - a deceitful dream? +Is not this apartment a dream - the furniture a dream? The publisher +a dream - his philosophy a dream? Am I not myself a dream - dreaming +about translating a dream? I can’t see why all should not +be a dream; what’s the use of the reality?’ And then +I would pinch myself, and snuff the burdened smoky light. ‘I +can’t see, for the life of me, the use of all this; therefore +why should I think that it exists? If there was a chance, a probability, +of all this tending to anything, I might believe; but - ’ and +then I would stare and think, and after some time shake my head and +return again to my occupations for an hour or two; and then I would +perhaps shake, and shiver, and yawn, and look wistfully in the direction +of my sleeping apartment; and then, but not wistfully, at the papers +and books before me; and sometimes I would return to my papers and books; +but oftener I would arise, and, after another yawn and shiver, take +my light, and proceed to my sleeping chamber.<br> +<br> +They say that light fare begets light dreams; my fare at that time was +light enough; but I had anything but light dreams, for at that period +I had all kind of strange and extravagant dreams, and amongst other +things I dreamt that the whole world had taken to dog-fighting; and +that I, myself, had taken to dog-fighting, and that in a vast circus +I backed an English bulldog against the bloodhound of the Pope of Rome.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXVII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +My brother - Fits of crying - Mayor-elect - The committee - The Norman +arch - A word of Greek - Church and State - At my own expense - If you +please.<br> +<br> +One morning I arose somewhat later than usual, having been occupied +during the greater part of the night with my literary toil. On +descending from my chamber into the sitting-room I found a person seated +by the fire, whose glance was directed sideways to the table, on which +were the usual preparations for my morning’s meal. Forthwith +I gave a cry, and sprang forward to embrace the person; for the person +by the fire, whose glance was directed to the table, was no one else +than my brother.<br> +<br> +‘And how are things going on at home?’ said I to my brother, +after we had kissed and embraced. ‘How is my mother, and +how is the dog?’<br> +<br> +‘My mother, thank God, is tolerably well,’ said my brother, +‘but very much given to fits of crying. As for the dog, +he is not so well; but we will talk more of these matters anon,’ +said my brother, again glancing at the breakfast things: ‘I am +very hungry, as you may suppose, after having travelled all night.’<br> +<br> +Thereupon I exerted myself to the best of my ability to perform the +duties of hospitality, and I made my brother welcome - I may say more +than welcome; and, when the rage of my brother’s hunger was somewhat +abated, we recommenced talking about the matters of our little family, +and my brother told me much about my mother; he spoke of her fits of +crying, but said that of late the said fits of crying had much diminished, +and she appeared to be taking comfort; and, if I am not much mistaken, +my brother told me that my mother had of late the Prayer-book frequently +in her hand, and yet oftener the Bible.<br> +<br> +We were silent for a time - at last I opened my mouth and mentioned +the dog.<br> +<br> +‘The dog,’ said my brother, ‘is, I am afraid, in a +very poor way; ever since the death he has done nothing but pine and +take on. A few months ago, you remember, he was as plump and fine +as any dog in the town; but at present he is little more than skin and +bone. Once we lost him for two days, and never expected to see +him again, imagining that some mischance had befallen him; at length +I found him - where do you think? Chancing to pass by the churchyard, +I found him seated on the grave!’<br> +<br> +‘Very strange,’ said I; ‘but let us talk of something +else. It was very kind of you to come and see me.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, as for that matter, I did not come up to see you, though +of course I am very glad to see you, having been rather anxious about +you, like my mother, who has received only one letter from you since +your departure. No, I did not come up on purpose to see you; but +on quite a different account. You must know that the corporation +of our town have lately elected a new mayor, a person of many qualifications +- big and portly, with a voice like Boanerges; a religious man, the +possessor of an immense pew; loyal, so much so that I once heard him +say that he would at any time go three miles to hear any one sing “God +save the King”; moreover, a giver of excellent dinners. +Such is our present mayor; who, owing to his loyalty, his religion, +and a little, perhaps, to his dinners, is a mighty favourite; so much +so that the town is anxious to have his portrait painted in a superior +style, so that remote posterity may know what kind of man he was, the +colour of his hair, his air and gait. So a committee was formed +some time ago, which is still sitting; that is, they dine with the mayor +every day to talk over the subject. A few days since, to my great +surprise, they made their appearance in my poor studio, and desired +to be favoured with a sight of some of my paintings; well, I showed +them some, and, after looking at them with great attention, they went +aside and whispered. “He’ll do,” I heard one +say; “Yes, he’ll do,” said another; and then they +came to me, and one of them, a little man with a hump on his back, who +is a watchmaker, assumed the office of spokesman, and made a long speech +- (the old town has been always celebrated for orators) - in which he +told me how much they had been pleased with my productions - (the old +town has been always celebrated for its artistic taste) - and, what +do you think? offered me the painting of the mayor’s portrait, +and a hundred pounds for my trouble. Well, of course I was much +surprised, and for a minute or two could scarcely speak; recovering +myself, however, I made a speech, not so eloquent as that of the watchmaker +of course, being not so accustomed to speaking; but not so bad either, +taking everything into consideration, telling them how flattered I felt +by the honour which they had conferred in proposing to me such an undertaking; +expressing, however, my fears that I was not competent to the task, +and concluding by saying what a pity it was that Crome was dead. +“Crome,” said the little man, “Crome; yes, he was +a clever man, a very clever man in his way; he was good at painting +landscapes and farm-houses, but he would not do in the present instance +were he alive. He had no conception of the heroic, sir. +We want some person capable of representing our mayor striding under +the Norman arch out of the cathedral.” At the mention of +the heroic an idea came at once into my head. “Oh,” +said I, “if you are in quest of the heroic, I am glad that you +came to me; don’t mistake me,” I continued, “I do +not mean to say that I could do justice to your subject, though I am +fond of the heroic; but I can introduce you to a great master of the +heroic, fully competent to do justice to your mayor. Not to me, +therefore, be the painting of the picture given, but to a friend of +mine, the great master of the heroic, to the best, the strongest, πω +κρατιστω” I added, for, +being amongst orators, I thought a word of Greek would tell.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘and what did the orators say?’<br> +<br> +‘They gazed dubiously at me and at one another,’ said my +brother; ‘at last the watchmaker asked me who this Mr. Christo +was; adding, that he had never heard of such a person; that, from my +recommendation of him, he had no doubt that he was a very clever man; +but that they should like to know something more about him before giving +the commission to him. That he had heard of Christie the great +auctioneer, who was considered to be an excellent judge of pictures; +but he supposed that I scarcely - Whereupon, interrupting the watchmaker, +I told him that I alluded neither to Christo nor to Christie; but to +the painter of Lazarus rising from the grave, a painter under whom I +had myself studied during some months that I had spent in London, and +to whom I was indebted for much connected with the heroic.<br> +<br> +‘“I have heard of him,” said the watchmaker, “and +his paintings too; but I am afraid that he is not exactly the gentleman +by whom our mayor would wish to be painted. I have heard say that +he is not a very good friend to Church and State. Come, young +man,” he added, “it appears to me that you are too modest; +I like your style of painting, so do we all, and - why should I mince +the matter? - the money is to be collected in the town, why should it +go into a stranger’s pocket, and be spent in London?”<br> +<br> +‘Thereupon I made them a speech, in which I said that art had +nothing to do with Church and State, at least with English Church and +State, which had never encouraged it; and that, though Church and State +were doubtless very fine things, a man might be a very good artist who +cared not a straw for either. I then made use of some more Greek +words, and told them how painting was one of the Nine Muses, and one +of the most independent creatures alive, inspiring whom she pleased, +and asking leave of nobody; that I should be quite unworthy of the favours +of the Muse if, on the present occasion, I did not recommend them a +man whom I considered to be a much greater master of the heroic than +myself; and that, with regard to the money being spent in the city, +I had no doubt that they would not weigh for a moment such a consideration +against the chance of getting a true heroic picture for the city. +I never talked so well in my life, and said so many flattering things +to the hunchback and his friends, that at last they said that I should +have my own way; and that if I pleased to go up to London, and bring +down the painter of Lazarus to paint the mayor, I might; so they then +bade me farewell, and I have come up to London.’<br> +<br> +‘To put a hundred pounds into the hands of - ’<br> +<br> +‘A better man than myself,’ said my brother, ‘of course.’<br> +<br> +‘And have you come up at your own expense?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said my brother, ‘I have come up at my own +expense.’<br> +<br> +I made no answer, but looked in my brother’s face. We then +returned to the former subjects of conversation, talking of the dead, +my mother, and the dog.<br> +<br> +After some time my brother said, ‘I will now go to the painter, +and communicate to him the business which has brought me to town; and, +if you please, I will take you with me and introduce you to him.’ +Having expressed my willingness, we descended into the street.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXVIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Painter of the heroic - I’ll go! - A modest peep - Who is this? +- A capital Pharaoh - Disproportionably short - Imaginary picture - +English figures.<br> +<br> +The painter of the heroic resided a great way off, at the western end +of the town. We had some difficulty in obtaining admission to +him; a maid-servant, who opened the door, eyeing us somewhat suspiciously: +it was not until my brother had said that he was a friend of the painter +that we were permitted to pass the threshold. At length we were +shown into the studio, where we found the painter, with an easel and +brush, standing before a huge piece of canvas, on which he had lately +commenced painting a heroic picture. The painter might be about +thirty-five years old; he had a clever, intelligent countenance, with +a sharp gray eye - his hair was dark brown, and cut à-la-Rafael, +as I was subsequently told, that is, there was little before and much +behind - he did not wear a neck-cloth; but, in its stead, a black riband, +so that his neck, which was rather fine, was somewhat exposed - he had +a broad, muscular breast, and I make no doubt that he would have been +a very fine figure, but unfortunately his legs and thighs were somewhat +short. He recognised my brother, and appeared glad to see him.<br> +<br> +‘What brings you to London?’ said he.<br> +<br> +Whereupon my brother gave him a brief account of his commission. +At the mention of the hundred pounds, I observed the eyes of the painter +glisten. ‘Really,’ said he, when my brother had concluded, +‘it was very kind to think of me. I am not very fond of +painting portraits; but a mayor is a mayor, and there is something grand +in that idea of the Norman arch. I’ll go; moreover, I am +just at this moment confoundedly in need of money, and when you knocked +at the door, I don’t mind telling you, I thought it was some dun. +I don’t know how it is, but in the capital they have no taste +for the heroic, they will scarce look at a heroic picture; I am glad +to hear that they have better taste in the provinces. I’ll +go; when shall we set off?’<br> +<br> +Thereupon it was arranged between the painter and my brother that they +should depart the next day but one; they then began to talk of art. +‘I’ll stick to the heroic,’ said the painter; ‘I +now and then dabble in the comic, but what I do gives me no pleasure, +the comic is so low; there is nothing like the heroic. I am engaged +here on a heroic picture,’ said he, pointing to the canvas; ‘the +subject is “Pharaoh dismissing Moses from Egypt,” after +the last plague - the death of the first-born; it is not far advanced +- that finished figure is Moses’: they both looked at the canvas, +and I, standing behind, took a modest peep. The picture, as the +painter said, was not far advanced, the Pharaoh was merely in outline; +my eye was, of course, attracted by the finished figure, or rather what +the painter had called the finished figure; but, as I gazed upon it, +it appeared to me that there was something defective - something unsatisfactory +in the figure. I concluded, however, that the painter, notwithstanding +what he had said, had omitted to give it the finishing touch. +‘I intend this to be my best picture,’ said the painter; +‘what I want now is a face for Pharaoh; I have long been meditating +on a face for Pharaoh.’ Here, chancing to cast his eye upon +my countenance, of whom he had scarcely taken any manner of notice, +he remained with his mouth open for some time. ‘Who is this?’ +said he at last. ‘Oh, this is my brother, I forgot to introduce +him.’ . . .<br> +<br> +We presently afterwards departed; my brother talked much about the painter. +‘He is a noble fellow,’ said my brother; ‘but, like +many other noble fellows, has a great many enemies; he is hated by his +brethren of the brush - all the land and water scape painters hate him +- but, above all, the race of portrait-painters, who are ten times more +numerous than the other two sorts, detest him for his heroic tendencies. +It will be a kind of triumph to the last, I fear, when they hear he +has condescended to paint a portrait; however, that Norman arch will +enable him to escape from their malice - that is a capital idea of the +watchmaker, that Norman arch.’<br> +<br> +I spent a happy day with my brother. On the morrow he went again +to the painter, with whom he dined; I did not go with him. On +his return he said, ‘The painter has been asking a great many +questions about you, and expressed a wish that you would sit to him +as Pharaoh; he thinks you would make a capital Pharaoh.’ +‘I have no wish to appear on canvas,’ said I; ‘moreover +he can find much better Pharaohs than myself; and, if he wants a real +Pharaoh, there is a certain Mr. Petulengro.’ ‘Petulengro?’ +said my brother; ‘a strange kind of fellow came up to me some +time ago in our town, and asked me about you; when I inquired his name, +he told me Petulengro. No, he will not do, he is too short; by +the bye, do you not think that figure of Moses is somewhat short?’ +And then it appeared to me that I had thought the figure of Moses somewhat +short, and I told my brother so. ‘Ah!’ said my brother.<br> +<br> +On the morrow my brother departed with the painter for the old town, +and there the painter painted the mayor. I did not see the picture +for a great many years, when, chancing to be at the old town, I beheld +it.<br> +<br> +The original mayor was a mighty, portly man, with a bull’s head, +black hair, body like that of a dray horse, and legs and thighs corresponding; +a man six foot high at the least. To his bull’s head, black +hair, and body the painter had done justice; there was one point, however, +in which the portrait did not correspond with the original - the legs +were disproportionably short, the painter having substituted his own +legs for those of the mayor, which when I perceived I rejoiced that +I had not consented to be painted as Pharaoh, for, if I had, the chances +are that he would have served me in exactly a similar way as he had +served Moses and the mayor.<br> +<br> +Short legs in a heroic picture will never do; and, upon the whole, I +think the painter’s attempt at the heroic in painting the mayor +of the old town a decided failure. If I am now asked whether the +picture would have been a heroic one provided the painter had not substituted +his own legs for those of the mayor - I must say, I am afraid not. +I have no idea of making heroic pictures out of English mayors, even +with the assistance of Norman arches; yet I am sure that capital pictures +might be made out of English mayors, not issuing from Norman arches, +but rather from the door of the ‘Checquers’ or the ‘Brewers +Three.’ The painter in question had great comic power, which +he scarcely ever cultivated; he would fain be a Rafael, which he never +could be, when he might have been something quite as good - another +Hogarth; the only comic piece which he ever presented to the world being +something little inferior to the best of that illustrious master. +I have often thought what a capital picture might have been made by +my brother’s friend, if, instead of making the mayor issue out +of the Norman arch, he had painted him moving under the sign of the +‘Checquers,’ or the ‘Three Brewers,’ with mace +- yes, with mace, - the mace appears in the picture issuing out of the +Norman arch behind the mayor, - but likewise with Snap, and with whiffler, +quart pot, and frying-pan, Billy Blind and Owlenglass, Mr. Petulengro +and Pakomovna; - then, had he clapped his own legs upon the mayor, or +any one else in the concourse, what matter? But I repeat that +I have no hope of making heroic pictures out of English mayors, or, +indeed, out of English figures in general. England may be a land +of heroic hearts, but it is not, properly, a land of heroic figures, +or heroic posture-making. Italy . . . what was I going to say +about Italy?<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXIX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +No authority whatever - Interference - Wondrous farrago - Brandt and +Struensee - What a life! - The hearse - Mortal relics - Great poet - +Fashion and fame - What a difference - Oh, beautiful - Good for nothing.<br> +<br> +And now once more to my pursuits, to my Lives and Trials. However +partial at first I might be to these lives and trials, it was not long +before they became regular trials to me, owing to the whims and caprices +of the publisher. I had not been long connected with him before +I discovered that he was wonderfully fond of interfering with other +people’s business - at least with the business of those who were +under his control. What a life did his unfortunate authors lead! +He had many in his employ toiling at all kinds of subjects - I call +them authors because there is something respectable in the term author, +though they had little authorship in, and no authority whatever over, +the works on which they were engaged. It is true the publisher +interfered with some colour of reason, the plan of all and every of +the works alluded to having originated with himself; and, be it observed, +many of his plans were highly clever and promising, for, as I have already +had occasion to say, the publisher in many points was a highly clever +and sagacious person; but he ought to have been contented with planning +the works originally, and have left to other people the task of executing +them, instead of which he marred everything by his rage for interference. +If a book of fairy tales was being compiled, he was sure to introduce +some of his philosophy, explaining the fairy tale by some theory of +his own. Was a book of anecdotes on hand, it was sure to be half +filled with sayings and doings of himself during the time that he was +common councilman of the City of London. Now, however fond the +public might be of fairy tales, it by no means relished them in conjunction +with the publisher’s philosophy; and however fond of anecdotes +in general, or even of the publisher in particular - for indeed there +were a great many anecdotes in circulation about him which the public +both read and listened to very readily - it took no pleasure in such +anecdotes as he was disposed to relate about himself. In the compilation +of my Lives and Trials I was exposed to incredible mortification, and +ceaseless trouble, from this same rage for interference. It is +true he could not introduce his philosophy into the work, nor was it +possible for him to introduce anecdotes of himself, having never had +the good or evil fortune to be tried at the bar; but he was continually +introducing - what, under a less apathetic government than the one then +being, would have infallibly subjected him, and perhaps myself, to a +trial, - his politics; not his Oxford or pseudo politics, but the politics +which he really entertained, and which were of the most republican and +violent kind. But this was not all; when about a moiety of the +first volume had been printed, he materially altered the plan of the +work; it was no longer to be a collection of mere Newgate lives and +trials, but of lives and trials of criminals in general, foreign as +well as domestic. In a little time the work became a wondrous +farrago, in which Königsmark the robber figured by the side of +Sam Lynn, and the Marchioness de Brinvilliers was placed in contact +with a Chinese outlaw. What gave me the most trouble and annoyance +was the publisher’s remembering some life or trial, foreign or +domestic, which he wished to be inserted, and which I was forthwith +to go in quest of and purchase at my own expense: some of those lives +and trials were by no means easy to find. ‘Where is Brandt +and Struensee?’ cries the publisher; ‘I am sure I don’t +know,’ I replied; whereupon the publisher falls to squealing like +one of Joey’s rats. ‘Find me up Brandt and Struensee +by next morning, or - ’ ‘Have you found Brandt and +Struensee?’ cried the publisher, on my appearing before him next +morning. ‘No,’ I reply, ‘I can hear nothing +about them’; whereupon the publisher falls to bellowing like Joey’s +bull. By dint of incredible diligence, I at length discover the +dingy volume containing the lives and trials of the celebrated two who +had brooded treason dangerous to the state of Denmark. I purchase +the dingy volume, and bring it in triumph to the publisher, the perspiration +running down my brow. The publisher takes the dingy volume in +his hand, he examines it attentively, then puts it down; his countenance +is calm for a moment, almost benign. Another moment and there +is a gleam in the publisher’s sinister eye; he snatches up the +paper containing the names of the worthies which I have intended shall +figure in the forthcoming volumes - he glances rapidly over it, and +his countenance once more assumes a terrific expression. ‘How +is this?’ he exclaims; ‘I can scarcely believe my eyes - +the most important life and trial omitted to be found in the whole criminal +record - what gross, what utter negligence! Where’s the +life of Farmer Patch? where’s the trial of Yeoman Patch?’<br> +<br> +‘What a life! what a dog’s life!’ I would frequently +exclaim, after escaping from the presence of the publisher.<br> +<br> +One day, after a scene with the publisher similar to that which I have +described above, I found myself about noon at the bottom of Oxford Street, +where it forms a right angle with the road which leads or did lead to +Tottenham Court. Happening to cast my eyes around, it suddenly +occurred to me that something uncommon was expected; people were standing +in groups on the pavement - the upstair windows of the houses were thronged +with faces, especially those of women, and many of the shops were partly, +and not a few entirely, closed. What could be the reason of all +this? All at once I bethought me that this street of Oxford was +no other than the far-famed Tyburn way. Oh, oh, thought I, an +execution; some handsome young robber is about to be executed at the +farther end; just so, see how earnestly the women are peering; perhaps +another Harry Simms - Gentleman Harry as they called him - is about +to be carted along this street to Tyburn tree; but then I remembered +that Tyburn tree had long since been cut down, and that criminals, whether +young or old, good-looking or ugly, were executed before the big stone +gaol, which I had looked at with a kind of shudder during my short rambles +in the City. What could be the matter? just then I heard various +voices cry, ‘There it comes!’ and all heads were turned +up Oxford Street, down which a hearse was slowly coming: nearer and +nearer it drew; presently it was just opposite the place where I was +standing, when, turning to the left, it proceeded slowly along Tottenham +Road; immediately behind the hearse were three or four mourning coaches, +full of people, some of whom, from the partial glimpse which I caught +of them, appeared to be foreigners; behind these came a very long train +of splendid carriages, all of which, without one exception, were empty.<br> +<br> +‘Whose body is in that hearse?’ said I to a dapper-looking +individual, seemingly a shopkeeper, who stood beside me on the pavement, +looking at the procession.<br> +<br> +‘The mortal relics of Lord Byron,’ said the dapper-looking +individual, mouthing his words and smirking - ‘the illustrious +poet, which have been just brought from Greece, and are being conveyed +to the family vault in -shire.’<br> +<br> +‘An illustrious poet, was he?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Beyond all criticism,’ said the dapper man; ‘all +we of the rising generation are under incalculable obligation to Byron; +I myself, in particular, have reason to say so; in all my correspondence +my style is formed on the Byronic model.’<br> +<br> +I looked at the individual for a moment, who smiled and smirked to himself +applause, and then I turned my eyes upon the hearse proceeding slowly +up the almost endless street. This man, this Byron, had for many +years past been the demigod of England, and his verses the daily food +of those who read, from the peer to the draper’s assistant; all +were admirers, or rather worshippers, of Byron, and all doated on his +verses; and then I thought of those who, with genius as high as his, +or higher, had lived and died neglected. I thought of Milton abandoned +to poverty and blindness; of witty and ingenious Butler consigned to +the tender mercies of bailiffs; and starving Otway: they had lived neglected +and despised, and, when they died, a few poor mourners only had followed +them to the grave; but this Byron had been made a half god of when living, +and now that he was dead he was followed by worshipping crowds, and +the very sun seemed to come out on purpose to grace his funeral. +And, indeed, the sun, which for many days past had hidden its face in +clouds, shone out that morn with wonderful brilliancy, flaming upon +the black hearse and its tall ostrich plumes, the mourning coaches, +and the long train of aristocratic carriages which followed behind.<br> +<br> +‘Great poet, sir,’ said the dapper-looking man, ‘great +poet, but unhappy.’<br> +<br> +Unhappy? yes, I had heard that he had been unhappy; that he had roamed +about a fevered, distempered man, taking pleasure in nothing - that +I had heard; but was it true? was he really unhappy? was not this unhappiness +assumed, with the view of increasing the interest which the world took +in him? and yet who could say? He might be unhappy, and with reason. +Was he a real poet after all? might he not doubt himself? might he not +have a lurking consciousness that he was undeserving of the homage which +he was receiving? that it could not last? that he was rather at the +top of fashion than of fame? He was a lordling, a glittering, +gorgeous lordling: and he might have had a consciousness that he owed +much of his celebrity to being so; he might have felt that he was rather +at the top of fashion than of fame. Fashion soon changes, thought +I, eagerly to myself - a time will come, and that speedily, when he +will be no longer in the fashion; when this idiotic admirer of his, +who is still grinning at my side, shall have ceased to mould his style +on Byron’s; and this aristocracy, squirearchy, and what not, who +now send their empty carriages to pay respect to the fashionable corpse, +shall have transferred their empty worship to some other animate or +inanimate thing. Well, perhaps after all it was better to have +been mighty Milton in his poverty and blindness - witty and ingenious +Butler consigned to the tender mercies of bailiffs, and starving Otway; +they might enjoy more real pleasure than this lordling; they must have +been aware that the world would one day do them justice - fame after +death is better than the top of fashion in life. They have left +a fame behind them which shall never die, whilst this lordling - a time +will come when he will be out of fashion and forgotten. And yet +I don’t know; didn’t he write Childe Harold and that ode? +Yes, he wrote Childe Harold and that ode. Then a time will scarcely +come when he will be forgotten. Lords, squires, and cockneys may +pass away, but a time will scarcely come when Childe Harold and that +ode will be forgotten. He was a poet, after all, and he must have +known it; a real poet, equal to - to - what a destiny! Rank, beauty, +fashion, immortality, - he could not be unhappy; what a difference in +the fate of men - I wish I could think he was unhappy . . . .<br> +<br> +I turned away.<br> +<br> +‘Great poet, sir,’ said the dapper man, turning away too, +‘but unhappy - fate of genius, sir; I, too, am frequently unhappy.’<br> +<br> +Hurrying down a street to the right, I encountered Francis Ardry.<br> +<br> +‘What means the multitude yonder?’ he demanded.<br> +<br> +‘They are looking after the hearse which is carrying the remains +of Byron up Tottenham Road.’<br> +<br> +‘I have seen the man,’ said my friend, as he turned back +the way he had come, ‘so I can dispense with seeing the hearse +- I saw the living man at Venice - ah, a great poet.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘a great poet, it must be so, everybody +says so - what a destiny! What a difference in the fate of men; +but ’tis said he was unhappy; you have seen him, how did he look?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, beautiful!’<br> +<br> +‘But did he look happy?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, I can’t say he looked very unhappy; I saw him with +two . . . very fair ladies; but what is it to you whether the man was +unhappy or not? Come, where shall we go - to Joey’s? +His hugest bear - ’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, I have had enough of bears, I have just been worried by one.’<br> +<br> +‘The publisher?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘Then come to Joey’s, three dogs are to be launched at his +bear: as they pin him, imagine him to be the publisher.’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘I am good for nothing; I think I shall +stroll to London Bridge.’<br> +<br> +‘That’s too far for me - farewell.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XL<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +London Bridge - Why not? - Every heart has its bitters - Wicked boys +- Give me my book - Such a fright - Honour bright.<br> +<br> +So I went to London Bridge, and again took my station on the spot by +the booth where I had stood on the former occasion. The booth, +however, was empty; neither the apple-woman nor her stall was to be +seen. I looked over the balustrade upon the river; the tide was +now, as before, rolling beneath the arch with frightful impetuosity. +As I gazed upon the eddies of the whirlpool, I thought within myself +how soon human life would become extinct there; a plunge, a convulsive +flounder, and all would be over. When I last stood over that abyss +I had felt a kind of impulse - a fascination; I had resisted it - I +did not plunge into it. At present I felt a kind of impulse to +plunge; but the impulse was of a different kind; it proceeded from a +loathing of life, I looked wistfully at the eddies - what had I to live +for? - what, indeed! I thought of Brandt and Struensee, and Yeoman +Patch - should I yield to the impulse - why not? My eyes were +fixed on the eddies. All of a sudden I shuddered; I thought I +saw heads in the pool; human bodies wallowing confusedly; eyes turned +up to heaven with hopeless horror; was that water or - ? Where +was the impulse now? I raised my eyes from the pool, I looked +no more upon it - I looked forward, far down the stream in the far distance. +‘Ha! what is that? I thought I saw a kind of Fata Morgana, +green meadows, waving groves, a rustic home; but in the far distance +- I stared - I stared - a Fata Morgana - it was gone. . . . ’<br> +<br> +I left the balustrade and walked to the farther end of the bridge, where +I stood for some time contemplating the crowd; I then passed over to +the other side with an intention of returning home; just half-way over +the bridge, in a booth immediately opposite to the one in which I had +formerly beheld her, sat my friend, the old apple-woman, huddled up +behind her stall.<br> +<br> +‘Well, mother,’ said I, ‘how are you?’ +The old woman lifted her head with a startled look.<br> +<br> +‘Don’t you know me?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Yes, I think I do. Ah, yes,’ said she, as her features +beamed with recollection, ‘I know you, dear; you are the young +lad that gave me the tanner. Well, child, got anything to sell?’<br> +<br> +‘Nothing at all,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Bad luck?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘bad enough, and ill usage.’<br> +<br> +‘Ah, I suppose they caught ye; well, child, never mind, better +luck next time; I am glad to see you.’<br> +<br> +‘Thank you,’ said I, sitting down on the stone bench; ‘I +thought you had left the bridge - why have you changed your side?’<br> +<br> +The old woman shook.<br> +<br> +‘What is the matter with you,’ said I; ‘are you ill?’<br> +<br> +‘No, child, no; only - ’<br> +<br> +‘Only what? Any bad news of your son?’<br> +<br> +‘No, child, no; nothing about my son. Only low, child - +every heart has its bitters.’<br> +<br> +‘That’s true,’ said I; ‘well, I don’t +want to know your sorrows; come, where’s the book?’<br> +<br> +The apple-woman shook more violently than before, bent herself down, +and drew her cloak more closely about her than before. ‘Book, +child, what book?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, blessed Mary, to be sure.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, that; I ha’n’t got it, child - I have lost it, +have left it at home.’<br> +<br> +‘Lost it,’ said I; ‘left it at home - what do you +mean? Come, let me have it.’<br> +<br> +‘I ha’n’t got it, child.’<br> +<br> +‘I believe you have got it under your cloak.’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t tell any one, dear; don’t - don’t,’ +and the apple-woman burst into tears.<br> +<br> +‘What’s the matter with you?’ said I, staring at her.<br> +<br> +‘You want to take my book from me?’<br> +<br> +‘Not I, I care nothing about it; keep it, if you like, only tell +me what’s the matter?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, all about that book.’<br> +<br> +‘The book?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, they wanted to take it from me.’<br> +<br> +‘Who did?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, some wicked boys. I’ll tell you all about it. +Eight or ten days ago, I sat behind my stall, reading my book; all of +a sudden I felt it snatched from my hand, up I started, and see three +rascals of boys grinning at me; one of them held the book in his hand. +“What book is this?” said he, grinning at it. “What +do you want with my book?” said I, clutching at it over my stall; +“give me my book.” “What do you want a book +for?” said he, holding it back; “I have a good mind to fling +it into the Thames.” “Give me my book,” I shrieked; +and, snatching at it, I fell over my stall, and all my fruit was scattered +about. Off ran the boys - off ran the rascal with my book. +Oh dear, I thought I should have died; up I got, however, and ran after +them as well as I could; I thought of my fruit, but I thought more of +my book. I left my fruit and ran after my book. “My +book! my book!” I shrieked, “murder! theft! robbery!” +I was near being crushed under the wheels of a cart; but I didn’t +care - I followed the rascals. “Stop them! stop them!” +I ran nearly as fast as they - they couldn’t run very fast on +account of the crowd. At last some one stopped the rascal, whereupon +he turned round, and flinging the book at me, it fell into the mud; +well, I picked it up and kissed it, all muddy as it was. “Has +he robbed you?” said the man. “Robbed me, indeed; +why he had got my book.” “Oh, your book,” said +the man, and laughed, and let the rascal go. Ah, he might laugh, +but - ’<br> +<br> +‘Well, go on.’<br> +<br> +‘My heart beats so. Well, I went back to my booth and picked +up my stall and my fruits, what I could find of them. I couldn’t +keep my stall for two days I got such a fright, and when I got round +I couldn’t bide the booth where the thing had happened, so I came +over to the other side. Oh, the rascals, if I could but see them +hanged.’<br> +<br> +‘For what?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, for stealing my book.’<br> +<br> +‘I thought you didn’t dislike stealing, - that you were +ready to buy things - there was your son, you know - ’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, to be sure.’<br> +<br> +‘He took things.’<br> +<br> +‘To be sure he did.’<br> +<br> +‘But you don’t like a thing of yours to be taken.’<br> +<br> +‘No, that’s quite a different thing; what’s stealing +handkerchiefs, and that kind of thing, to do with taking my book? there’s +a wide difference - don’t you see?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, I see.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you, dear? well, bless your heart, I’m glad you do. +Would you like to look at the book?’<br> +<br> +‘Well, I think I should.’<br> +<br> +‘Honour bright?’ said the apple-woman, looking me in the +eyes.<br> +<br> +‘Honour bright,’ said I, looking the apple-woman in the +eyes.<br> +<br> +‘Well then, dear, here it is,’ said she, taking it from +under her cloak; ‘read it as long as you like, only get a little +farther into the booth - Don’t sit so near the edge - you +might - ’<br> +<br> +I went deep into the booth, and the apple-woman, bringing her chair +round, almost confronted me. I commenced reading the book, and +was soon engrossed by it; hours passed away, once or twice I lifted +up my eyes, the apple-woman was still confronting me: at last my eyes +began to ache, whereupon I returned the book to the apple-woman, and, +giving her another tanner, walked away.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XLI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Decease of the Review - Homer himself - Bread and cheese - Finger and +thumb - Impossible to find - Something grand - Universal mixture - Some +other publisher.<br> +<br> +Time passed away, and with it the Review, which, contrary to the publisher’s +expectation, did not prove a successful speculation. About four +months after the period of its birth it expired, as all Reviews must +for which there is no demand. Authors had ceased to send their +publications to it, and, consequently, to purchase it; for I have already +hinted that it was almost entirely supported by authors of a particular +class, who expected to see their publications foredoomed to immortality +in its pages. The behaviour of these authors towards this unfortunate +publication I can attribute to no other cause than to a report which +was industriously circulated, namely, that the Review was low, and that +to be reviewed in it was an infallible sign that one was a low person, +who could be reviewed nowhere else. So authors took fright; and +no wonder, for it will never do for an author to be considered low. +Homer himself has never yet entirely recovered from the injury he received +by Lord Chesterfield’s remark that the speeches of his heroes +were frequently exceedingly low.<br> +<br> +So the Review ceased, and the reviewing corps no longer existed as such; +they forthwith returned to their proper avocations - the editor to compose +tunes on his piano, and to the task of disposing of the remaining copies +of his Quintilian - the inferior members to working for the publisher, +being to a man dependants of his; one, to composing fairy tales; another, +to collecting miracles of Popish saints; and a third, Newgate lives +and trials. Owing to the bad success of the Review, the publisher +became more furious than ever. My money was growing short, and +I one day asked him to pay me for my labours in the deceased publication.<br> +<br> +‘Sir,’ said the publisher, ‘what do you want the money +for?’<br> +<br> +‘Merely to live on,’ I replied; ‘it is very difficult +to live in this town without money.’<br> +<br> +‘How much money did you bring with you to town?’ demanded +the publisher.<br> +<br> +‘Some twenty or thirty pounds,’ I replied.<br> +<br> +‘And you have spent it already?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘not entirely; but it is fast disappearing.’<br> +<br> +‘Sir,’ said the publisher, ‘I believe you to be extravagant; +yes, sir, extravagant!’<br> +<br> +‘On what grounds do you suppose me to be so?’<br> +<br> +‘Sir,’ said the publisher, ‘you eat meat.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘I eat meat sometimes; what should +I eat?’<br> +<br> +‘Bread, sir,’ said the publisher; ‘bread and cheese.’<br> +<br> +‘So I do, sir, when I am disposed to indulge; but I cannot often +afford it - it is very expensive to dine on bread and cheese, especially +when one is fond of cheese, as I am. My last bread and cheese +dinner cost me fourteenpence. There is drink, sir; with bread +and cheese one must drink porter, sir.’<br> +<br> +‘Then, sir, eat bread - bread alone. As good men as yourself +have eaten bread alone; they have been glad to get it, sir. If +with bread and cheese you must drink porter, sir, with bread alone you +can, perhaps, drink water, sir.’<br> +<br> +However, I got paid at last for my writings in the Review, not, it is +true, in the current coin of the realm, but in certain bills; there +were two of them, one payable at twelve, and the other at eighteen months +after date. It was a long time before I could turn these bills +to any account; at last I found a person who, at a discount of only +thirty per cent, consented to cash them; not, however, without sundry +grimaces, and, what was still more galling, holding, more than once, +the unfortunate papers high in air between his forefinger and thumb. +So ill, indeed, did I like this last action, that I felt much inclined +to snatch them away. I restrained myself, however, for I remembered +that it was very difficult to live without money, and that, if the present +person did not discount the bills, I should probably find no one else +that would.<br> +<br> +But if the treatment which I had experienced from the publisher, previous +to making this demand upon him, was difficult to bear, that which I +subsequently underwent was far more so: his great delight seemed to +consist in causing me misery and mortification; if, on former occasions, +he was continually sending me in quest of lives and trials difficult +to find, he now was continually demanding lives and trials which it +was impossible to find; the personages whom he mentioned never having +lived, nor consequently been tried. Moreover, some of my best +lives and trials which I had corrected and edited with particular care, +and on which I prided myself no little, he caused to be cancelled after +they had passed through the press. Amongst these was the life +of ‘Gentleman Harry.’ ‘They are drugs, sir,’ +said the publisher, ‘drugs; that life of Harry Simms has long +been the greatest drug in the calendar - has it not, Taggart?’<br> +<br> +Taggart made no answer save by taking a pinch of snuff. The reader, +has, I hope, not forgotten Taggart, whom I mentioned whilst giving an +account of my first morning’s visit to the publisher. I +beg Taggart’s pardon for having been so long silent about him; +but he was a very silent man - yet there was much in Taggart - and Taggart +had always been civil and kind to me in his peculiar way.<br> +<br> +‘Well, young gentleman,’ said Taggart to me one morning, +when we chanced to be alone a few days after the affair of the cancelling, +‘how do you like authorship?’<br> +<br> +‘I scarcely call authorship the drudgery I am engaged in,’ +said I.<br> +<br> +‘What do you call authorship?’ said Taggart.<br> +<br> +‘I scarcely know,’ said I; ‘that is, I can scarcely +express what I think it.’<br> +<br> +‘Shall I help you out?’ said Taggart, turning round his +chair, and looking at me.<br> +<br> +‘If you like,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘To write something grand,’ said Taggart, taking snuff; +‘to be stared at - lifted on people’s shoulders - ’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘that is something like it.’<br> +<br> +Taggart took snuff. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘why don’t +you write something grand?’<br> +<br> +‘I have,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘What?’ said Taggart.<br> +<br> +‘Why,’ said I, ‘there are those ballads.’<br> +<br> +Taggart took snuff.<br> +<br> +‘And those wonderful versions from Ab Gwilym.’<br> +<br> +Taggart took snuff again.<br> +<br> +‘You seem to be very fond of snuff,’ said I, looking at +him angrily.<br> +<br> +Taggart tapped his box.<br> +<br> +‘Have you taken it long?’<br> +<br> +‘Three-and-twenty years.’<br> +<br> +‘What snuff do you take?’<br> +<br> +‘Universal mixture.’<br> +<br> +‘And you find it of use?<br> +<br> +Taggart tapped his box.<br> +<br> +‘In what respect?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘In many - there is nothing like it to get a man through; but +for snuff I should scarcely be where I am now.’<br> +<br> +‘Have you been long here?’<br> +<br> +‘Three-and-twenty years.’<br> +<br> +‘Dear me,’ said I; ‘and snuff brought you through? +Give me a pinch - pah, I don’t like it,’ and I sneezed.<br> +<br> +‘Take another pinch,’ said Taggart.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘I don’t like snuff.’<br> +<br> +‘Then you will never do for authorship; at least for this kind.’<br> +<br> +‘So I begin to think - what shall I do?’<br> +<br> +Taggart took snuff.<br> +<br> +‘You were talking of a great work - what shall it be?’<br> +<br> +Taggart took snuff.<br> +<br> +‘Do you think I could write one?’<br> +<br> +Taggart uplifted his two forefingers as if to tap, he did not however.<br> +<br> +‘It would require time,’ said I, with a half sigh.<br> +<br> +Taggart tapped his box.<br> +<br> +‘A great deal of time; I really think that my ballads - ’<br> +<br> +Taggart took snuff.<br> +<br> +‘If published, would do me credit. I’ll make an effort, +and offer them to some other publisher.’<br> +<br> +Taggart took a double quantity of snuff.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XLII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Francis Ardry - That won’t do, sir - Observe my gestures - I think +you improve - Better than politics - Delightful young Frenchwoman - +A burning shame - Magnificent impudence - Paunch - Voltaire - Lump of +sugar.<br> +<br> +Occasionally I called on Francis Ardry. This young gentleman resided +in handsome apartments in the neighbourhood of a fashionable square, +kept a livery servant, and, upon the whole, lived in very good style. +Going to see him one day, between one and two, I was informed by the +servant that his master was engaged for the moment, but that, if I pleased +to wait a few minutes, I should find him at liberty. Having told +the man that I had no objection, he conducted me into a small apartment +which served as antechamber to a drawing-room; the door of this last +being half open, I could see Francis Ardry at the farther end, speechifying +and gesticulating in a very impressive manner. The servant, in +some confusion, was hastening to close the door; but, ere he could effect +his purpose, Francis Ardry, who had caught a glimpse of me, exclaimed, +‘Come in - come in by all means’; and then proceeded, as +before, speechifying and gesticulating. Filled with some surprise, +I obeyed his summons.<br> +<br> +On entering the room I perceived another individual, to whom Francis +Ardry appeared to be addressing himself; this other was a short spare +man of about sixty; his hair was of badger gray, and his face was covered +with wrinkles - without vouchsafing me a look, he kept his eye, which +was black and lustrous, fixed full on Francis Ardry, as if paying the +deepest attention to his discourse. All of a sudden, however, +he cried with a sharp, cracked voice, ‘That won’t do, sir; +that won’t do - more vehemence - your argument is at present particularly +weak; therefore, more vehemence - you must confuse them, stun them, +stultify them, sir’; and, at each of these injunctions, he struck +the back of his right hand sharply against the palm of the left. +‘Good, sir - good!’ he occasionally uttered, in the same +sharp, cracked tone, as the voice of Francis Ardry became more and more +vehement. ‘Infinitely good!’ he exclaimed, as Francis +Ardry raised his voice to the highest pitch; ‘and now, sir, abate; +let the tempest of vehemence decline - gradually, sir; not too fast. +Good, sir - very good!’ as the voice of Francis Ardry declined +gradually in vehemence. ‘And now a little pathos, sir - +try them with a little pathos. That won’t do, sir - that +won’t do,’ - as Francis Ardry made an attempt to become +pathetic, - ‘that will never pass for pathos - with tones and +gesture of that description you will never redress the wrongs of your +country. Now, sir, observe my gestures, and pay attention to the +tone of my voice, sir.’<br> +<br> +Thereupon, making use of nearly the same terms which Francis Ardry had +employed, the individual in black uttered several sentences in tones +and with gestures which were intended to express a considerable degree +of pathos, though it is possible that some people would have thought +both the one and the other highly ludicrous. After a pause, Francis +Ardry recommenced imitating the tones and the gestures of his monitor +in the most admirable manner. Before he had proceeded far, however, +he burst into a fit of laughter, in which I should, perhaps, have joined, +provided it were ever my wont to laugh. ‘Ha, ha!’ +said the other, good-humouredly, ‘you are laughing at me. +Well, well, I merely wished to give you a hint; but you saw very well +what I meant; upon the whole I think you improve. But I must now +go, having two other pupils to visit before four.’<br> +<br> +Then taking from the table a kind of three-cornered hat, and a cane +headed with amber, he shook Francis Ardry by the hand; and, after glancing +at me for a moment, made me a half bow, attended with a strange grimace, +and departed.<br> +<br> +‘Who is that gentleman?’ said I to Francis Ardry, as soon +as were alone.<br> +<br> +‘Oh, that is - ’ said Frank, smiling, ‘the gentleman +who gives me lessons in elocution.’<br> +<br> +‘And what need have you of elocution?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, I merely obey the commands of my guardians,’ said Francis, +‘who insist that I should, with the assistance of -, qualify myself +for Parliament; for which they do me the honour to suppose that I have +some natural talent. I dare not disobey them; for, at the present +moment, I have particular reasons for wishing to keep on good terms +with them.’<br> +<br> +‘But,’ said I, ‘you are a Roman Catholic; and I thought +that persons of your religion were excluded from Parliament?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, upon that very thing the whole matter hinges; people of +our religion are determined to be no longer excluded from Parliament, +but to have a share in the government of the nation. Not that +I care anything about the matter; I merely obey the will of my guardians; +my thoughts are fixed on something better than politics.’<br> +<br> +‘I understand you,’ said I; ‘dog-fighting - well, +I can easily conceive that to some minds dog-fighting - ’<br> +<br> +‘I was not thinking of dog-fighting,’ said Francis Ardry, +interrupting me.<br> +<br> +‘Not thinking of dog-fighting!’ I ejaculated.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said Francis Ardry, ‘something higher and much +more rational than dog-fighting at present occupies my thoughts.’<br> +<br> +‘Dear me,’ said I, ‘I thought I had heard you say +that there was nothing like it!’<br> +<br> +‘Like what?’ said Francis Ardry.<br> +<br> +‘Dog-fighting, to be sure,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Pooh,’ said Francis Ardry; ‘who but the gross and +unrefined care anything for dog-fighting? That which at present +engages my waking and sleeping thoughts is love - divine love - there +is nothing like <i>that</i>. Listen to me, I have a secret to +confide to you.’<br> +<br> +And then Francis Ardry proceeded to make me his confidant. It +appeared that he had had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of +the most delightful young Frenchwoman imaginable, Annette La Noire by +name, who had just arrived from her native country with the intention +of obtaining the situation of governess in some English family; a position +which, on account of her many accomplishments, she was eminently qualified +to fill. Francis Ardry had, however, persuaded her to relinquish +her intention for the present, on the ground that, until she had become +acclimated in England, her health would probably suffer from the confinement +inseparable from the occupation in which she was desirous of engaging; +he had, moreover - for it appeared that she was the most frank and confiding +creature in the world - succeeded in persuading her to permit him to +hire for her a very handsome first floor in his own neighbourhood, and +to accept a few inconsiderable presents in money and jewellery. +‘I am looking out for a handsome gig and horse,’ said Francis +Ardry, at the conclusion of his narration; ‘it were a burning +shame that so divine a creature should have to go about a place like +London on foot, or in a paltry hackney coach.’<br> +<br> +‘But,’ said I, ‘will not the pursuit of politics prevent +your devoting much time to this fair lady?’<br> +<br> +‘It will prevent me devoting all my time,’ said Francis +Ardry, ‘as I gladly would; but what can I do? My guardians +wish me to qualify myself for a political orator, and I dare not offend +them by a refusal. If I offend my guardians, I should find it +impossible - unless I have recourse to Jews and money-lenders - to support +Annette; present her with articles of dress and jewellery, and purchase +a horse and cabriolet worthy of conveying her angelic person through +the streets of London.’<br> +<br> +After a pause, in which Francis Ardry appeared lost in thought, his +mind being probably occupied with the subject of Annette, I broke silence +by observing, ‘So your fellow-religionists are really going to +make a serious attempt to procure their emancipation?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said Francis Ardry, starting from his reverie; ‘everything +has been arranged; even a leader has been chosen, at least for us of +Ireland, upon the whole the most suitable man in the world for the occasion +- a barrister of considerable talent, mighty voice, and magnificent +impudence. With emancipation, liberty, and redress for the wrongs +of Ireland in his mouth, he is to force his way into the British House +of Commons, dragging myself and others behind him - he will succeed, +and when he is in he will cut a figure; I have heard - himself, who +has heard him speak, say that he will cut a figure.’<br> +<br> +‘And is - competent to judge?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘Who but he?’ said Francis Ardry; ‘no one questions +his judgment concerning what relates to elocution. His fame on +that point is so well established, that the greatest orators do not +disdain occasionally to consult him; C- himself, as I have been told, +when anxious to produce any particular effect in the House, is in the +habit of calling in - for a consultation.’<br> +<br> +‘As to matter, or manner?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Chiefly the latter,’ said Francis Ardry, ‘though +he is competent to give advice as to both, for he has been an orator +in his day, and a leader of the people; though he confessed to me that +he was not exactly qualified to play the latter part - “I want +paunch,” said he.’<br> +<br> +‘It is not always indispensable,’ said I; ‘there is +an orator in my town, a hunchback and watchmaker, without it, who not +only leads the people, but the mayor too; perhaps he has a succedaneum +in his hunch: but, tell me, is the leader of your movement in possession +of that which - wants?’<br> +<br> +‘No more deficient in it than in brass,’ said Francis Ardry.<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘whatever his qualifications may be, +I wish him success in the cause which he has taken up - I love religious +liberty.’<br> +<br> +‘We shall succeed,’ said Francis Ardry; ‘John Bull +upon the whole is rather indifferent on the subject, and then we are +sure to be backed by the Radical party, who, to gratify their political +prejudices, would join with Satan himself.’<br> +<br> +‘There is one thing,’ said I, ‘connected with this +matter which surprises me - your own lukewarmness. Yes, making +every allowance for your natural predilection for dog-fighting, and +your present enamoured state of mind, your apathy at the commencement +of such a movement is to me unaccountable.’<br> +<br> +‘You would not have cause to complain of my indifference,’ +said Frank, ‘provided I thought my country would be benefited +by this movement; but I happen to know the origin of it. The priests +are the originators, ‘and what country was ever benefited by a +movement which owed its origin to them?’ so says Voltaire, a page +of whom I occasionally read. By the present move they hope to +increase their influence, and to further certain designs which they +entertain both with regard to this country and Ireland. I do not +speak rashly or unadvisedly. A strange fellow - a half-Italian, +half-English priest, - who was recommended to me by my guardians, partly +as a spiritual, partly as a temporal guide, has let me into a secret +or two; he is fond of a glass of gin and water - and over a glass of +gin and water cold, with a lump of sugar in it, he has been more communicative, +perhaps, than was altogether prudent. Were I my own master, I +would kick him, politics, and religious movements, to a considerable +distance. And now, if you are going away, do so quickly; I have +an appointment with Annette, and must make myself fit to appear before +her.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XLIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Progress - Glorious John - Utterly unintelligible - What a difference.<br> +<br> +By the month of October I had, in spite of all difficulties and obstacles, +accomplished about two-thirds of the principal task which I had undertaken, +the compiling of the Newgate lives; I had also made some progress in +translating the publisher’s philosophy into German. But +about this time I began to see very clearly that it was impossible that +our connection should prove of long duration; yet, in the event of my +leaving the big man, what other resource had I - another publisher? +But what had I to offer? There were my ballads, my Ab Gwilym, +but then I thought of Taggart and his snuff, his pinch of snuff. +However, I determined to see what could be done, so I took my ballads +under my arm, and went to various publishers; some took snuff, others +did not, but none took my ballads or Ab Gwilym, they would not even +look at them. One asked me if I had anything else - he was a snuff-taker +- I said yes; and going home, returned with my translation of the German +novel, to which I have before alluded. After keeping it for a +fortnight, he returned it to me on my visiting him, and, taking a pinch +of snuff, told me it would not do. There were marks of snuff on +the outside of the manuscript, which was a roll of paper bound with +red tape, but there were no marks of snuff on the interior of the manuscript, +from which I concluded that he had never opened it.<br> +<br> +I had often heard of one Glorious John, who lived at the western end +of the town; on consulting Taggart, he told me that it was possible +that Glorious John would publish my ballads and Ab Gwilym, that is, +said he, taking a pinch of snuff, provided you can see him; so I went +to the house where Glorious John resided, and a glorious house it was, +but I could not see Glorious John - I called a dozen times, but I never +could see Glorious John. Twenty years after, by the greatest chance +in the world, I saw Glorious John, and sure enough Glorious John published +my books, but they were different books from the first; I never offered +my ballads or Ab Gwilym to Glorious John. Glorious John was no +snuff-taker. He asked me to dinner, and treated me with superb +Rhenish wine. Glorious John is now gone to his rest, but I - what +was I going to say? - the world will never forget Glorious John.<br> +<br> +So I returned to my last resource for the time then being - to the publisher, +persevering doggedly in my labour. One day, on visiting the publisher, +I found him stamping with fury upon certain fragments of paper. +‘Sir,’ said he, ‘you know nothing of German; I have +shown your translation of the first chapter of my Philosophy to several +Germans: it is utterly unintelligible to them.’ ‘Did +they see the Philosophy?’ I replied. ‘They did, sir, +but they did not profess to understand English.’ ‘No +more do I,’ I replied, ‘if that Philosophy be English.’<br> +<br> +The publisher was furious - I was silent. For want of a pinch +of snuff, I had recourse to something which is no bad substitute for +a pinch of snuff, to those who can’t take it, silent contempt; +at first it made the publisher more furious, as perhaps a pinch of snuff +would; it, however, eventually calmed him, and he ordered me back to +my occupations, in other words, the compilation. To be brief, +the compilation was completed, I got paid in the usual manner, and forthwith +left him.<br> +<br> +He was a clever man, but what a difference in clever men!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XLIV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The old spot - A long history - Thou shalt not steal - No harm - Education +- Necessity - Foam on your lip - Apples and pears - What will you read? +- Metaphor - The fur cap - I don’t know him.<br> +<br> +It was past midwinter, and I sat on London Bridge, in company with the +old apple-woman: she had just returned to the other side of the bridge, +to her place in the booth where I had originally found her. This +she had done after frequent conversations with me; ‘she liked +the old place best,’ she said, which she would never have left +but for the terror which she experienced when the boys ran away with +her book. So I sat with her at the old spot, one afternoon past +midwinter, reading the book, of which I had by this time come to the +last pages. I had observed that the old woman for some time past +had shown much less anxiety about the book than she had been in the +habit of doing. I was, however, not quite prepared for her offering +to make me a present of it, which she did that afternoon; when, having +finished it, I returned it to her, with many thanks for the pleasure +and instruction I had derived from its perusal. ‘You may +keep it, dear,’ said the old woman, with a sigh; ‘you may +carry it to your lodging, and keep it for your own.’<br> +<br> +Looking at the old woman with surprise, I exclaimed, ‘Is it possible +that you are willing to part with the book which has been your source +of comfort so long?’<br> +<br> +Whereupon the old woman entered into a long history, from which I gathered +that the book had become distasteful to her; she hardly ever opened +it of late, she said, or if she did, it was only to shut it again; also, +that other things which she had been fond of, though of a widely different +kind, were now distasteful to her. Porter and beef-steaks were +no longer grateful to her palate, her present diet chiefly consisting +of tea, and bread and butter.<br> +<br> +‘Ah,’ said I, ‘you have been ill, and when people +are ill, they seldom like the things which give them pleasure when they +are in health.’ I learned, moreover, that she slept little +at night, and had all kinds of strange thoughts; that as she lay awake +many things connected with her youth, which she had quite forgotten, +came into her mind. There were certain words that came into her +mind the night before the last, which were continually humming in her +ears: I found that the words were, ‘Thou shalt not steal.’<br> +<br> +On inquiring where she had first heard these words, I learned that she +had read them at school, in a book called the primer; to this school +she had been sent by her mother, who was a poor widow, and followed +the trade of apple-selling in the very spot where her daughter followed +it now. It seems that the mother was a very good kind of woman, +but quite ignorant of letters, the benefit of which she was willing +to procure for her child; and at the school the daughter learned to +read, and subsequently experienced the pleasure and benefit of letters, +in being able to read the book which she found in an obscure closet +of her mother’s house, and which had been her principal companion +and comfort for many years of her life.<br> +<br> +But, as I have said before, she was now dissatisfied with the book, +and with most other things in which she had taken pleasure; she dwelt +much on the words, ‘Thou shalt not steal’; she had never +stolen things herself, but then she had bought things which other people +had stolen, and which she knew had been stolen; and her dear son had +been a thief, which he perhaps would not have been but for the example +which she set him in buying things from characters, as she called them, +who associated with her.<br> +<br> +On inquiring how she had become acquainted with these characters, I +learned that times had gone hard with her; that she had married, but +her husband had died after a long sickness, which had reduced them to +great distress; that her fruit trade was not a profitable one, and that +she had bought and sold things which had been stolen to support herself +and her son. That for a long time she supposed there was no harm +in doing so, as her book was full of entertaining tales of stealing; +but she now thought that the book was a bad book, and that learning +to read was a bad thing; her mother had never been able to read, but +had died in peace, though poor.<br> +<br> +So here was a woman who attributed the vices and follies of her life +to being able to read; her mother, she said, who could not read, lived +respectably, and died in peace; and what was the essential difference +between the mother and daughter, save that the latter could read? +But for her literature she might in all probability have lived respectably +and honestly, like her mother, and might eventually have died in peace, +which at present she could scarcely hope to do. Education had +failed to produce any good in this poor woman; on the contrary, there +could be little doubt that she had been injured by it. Then was +education a bad thing? Rousseau was of opinion that it was; but +Rousseau was a Frenchman, at least wrote in French, and I cared not +the snap of my fingers for Rousseau. But education has certainly +been of benefit in some instances; well, what did that prove, but that +partiality existed in the management of the affairs of the world - if +education was a benefit to some, why was it not a benefit to others? +Could some avoid abusing it, any more than others could avoid turning +it to a profitable account? I did not see how they could; this +poor simple woman found a book in her mother’s closet; a book, +which was a capital book for those who could turn it to the account +for which it was intended; a book, from the perusal of which I felt +myself wiser and better, but which was by no means suited to the intellect +of this poor simple woman, who thought that it was written in praise +of thieving; yet she found it, she read it, and - and - I felt myself +getting into a maze; what is right, thought I? what is wrong? +Do I exist? Does the world exist? if it does, every action is +bound up with necessity.<br> +<br> +‘Necessity!’ I exclaimed, and cracked my finger-joints.<br> +<br> +‘Ah, it is a bad thing,’ said the old woman.<br> +<br> +‘What is a bad thing?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Why to be poor, dear.’<br> +<br> +‘You talk like a fool,’ said I, ‘riches and poverty +are only different forms of necessity.’<br> +<br> +‘You should not call me a fool, dear; you should not call your +own mother a fool.’<br> +<br> +‘You are not my mother,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Not your mother, dear? - no, no more I am; but your calling me +fool put me in mind of my dear son, who often used to call me fool - +and you just now looked as he sometimes did, with a blob of foam on +your lip.’<br> +<br> +‘After all, I don’t know that you are not my mother.’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t you, dear? I’m glad of it; I wish you +would make it out.’<br> +<br> +‘How should I make it out? who can speak from his own knowledge +as to the circumstances of his birth? Besides, before attempting +to establish our relationship, it would be necessary to prove that such +people exist.’<br> +<br> +‘What people, dear?’<br> +<br> +‘You and I.’<br> +<br> +‘Lord, child, you are mad; that book has made you so.’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t abuse it,’ said I; ‘the book is an excellent +one, that is, provided it exists.’<br> +<br> +‘I wish it did not,’ said the old woman; ‘but it shan’t +long; I’ll burn it, or fling it into the river - the voices at +night tell me to do so.’<br> +<br> +‘Tell the voices,’ said I, ‘that they talk nonsense; +the book, if it exists, is a good book, it contains a deep moral; have +you read it all?’<br> +<br> +‘All the funny parts, dear; all about taking things, and the manner +it was done; as for the rest, I could not exactly make it out.’<br> +<br> +‘Then the book is not to blame; I repeat that the book is a good +book, and contains deep morality, always supposing that there is such +a thing as morality, which is the same thing as supposing that there +is anything at all.’<br> +<br> +‘Anything at all! Why ain’t we here on this bridge, +in my booth, with my stall and my - ’<br> +<br> +‘Apples and pears, baked hot, you would say - I don’t know; +all is a mystery, a deep question. It is a question, and probably +always will be, whether there is a world, and consequently apples and +pears; and, provided there be a world, whether that world be like an +apple or a pear.’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t talk so, dear.’<br> +<br> +‘I won’t; we will suppose that we all exist - world, ourselves, +apples, and pears: so you wish to get rid of the book?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, dear, I wish you would take it.’<br> +<br> +‘I have read it, and have no farther use for it; I do not need +books: in a little time, perhaps, I shall not have a place wherein to +deposit myself, far less books.’<br> +<br> +‘Then I will fling it into the river.’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t do that; here, give it me. Now what shall I +do with it? you were so fond of it.’<br> +<br> +‘I am so no longer.’<br> +<br> +‘But how will you pass your time; what will you read?’<br> +<br> +‘I wish I had never learned to read, or, if I had, that I had +only read the books I saw at school: the primer or the other.’<br> +<br> +‘What was the other?’<br> +<br> +‘I think they called it the Bible: all about God, and Job, and +Jesus.’<br> +<br> +‘Ah, I know it.’<br> +<br> +‘You have read it; is it a nice book - all true?’<br> +<br> +‘True, true - I don’t know what to say; but if the world +be true, and not all a lie, a fiction, I don’t see why the Bible, +as they call it, should not be true. By the bye, what do you call +Bible in your tongue, or, indeed, book of any kind? as Bible merely +means a book.’<br> +<br> +‘What do I call the Bible in my language, dear?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, the language of those who bring you things.’<br> +<br> +‘The language of those who <i>did</i>, dear; they bring them now +no longer. They call me fool, as you did, dear, just now; they +call kissing the Bible, which means taking a false oath, smacking calf-skin.’<br> +<br> +‘That’s metaphor,’ said I; ‘English, but metaphorical; +what an odd language! So you would like to have a Bible, - shall +I buy you one?’<br> +<br> +‘I am poor, dear - no money since I left off the other trade.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, then, I’ll buy you one.’<br> +<br> +‘No, dear, no; you are poor, and may soon want the money; but +if you can take me one conveniently on the sly, you know - I think you +may, for, as it is a good book, I suppose there can be no harm in taking +it.’<br> +<br> +‘That will never do,’ said I, ‘more especially as +I should be sure to be caught, not having made taking of things my trade; +but I’ll tell you what I’ll do - try and exchange this book +of yours for a Bible; who knows for what great things this same book +of yours may serve?’<br> +<br> +‘Well, dear,’ said the old woman, ‘do as you please; +I should like to see the - what do you call it? - Bible, and to read +it, as you seem to think it true.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘seem; that is the way to express yourself +in this maze of doubt - I seem to think - these apples and pears seem +to be - and here seems to be a gentleman who wants to purchase either +one or the other.’<br> +<br> +A person had stopped before the apple-woman’s stall, and was glancing +now at the fruit, now at the old woman and myself; he wore a blue mantle, +and had a kind of fur cap on his head; he was somewhat above the middle +stature; his features were keen, but rather hard; there was a slight +obliquity in his vision. Selecting a small apple, he gave the +old woman a penny; then, after looking at me scrutinisingly for a moment, +he moved from the booth in the direction of Southwark.<br> +<br> +‘Do you know who that man is?’ said I to the old woman.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said she, ‘except that he is one of my best +customers: he frequently stops, takes an apple, and gives me a penny; +his is the only piece of money I have taken this blessed day. +I don’t know him, but he has once or twice sat down in the booth +with two strange-looking men - Mulattos, or Lascars, I think they call +them.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XLV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Bought and exchanged - Quite empty - A new firm - Bibles - Countenance +of a lion - Clap of thunder - A truce with this - I have lost it - Clearly +a right - Goddess of the Mint.<br> +<br> +In pursuance of my promise to the old woman, I set about procuring her +a Bible with all convenient speed, placing the book which she had intrusted +to me for the purpose of exchange in my pocket. I went to several +shops, and asked if Bibles were to be had: I found that there were plenty. +When, however, I informed the people that I came to barter, they looked +blank, and declined treating with me; saying that they did not do business +in that way. At last I went into a shop over the window of which +I saw written, ‘Books bought and exchanged’: there was a +smartish young fellow in the shop, with black hair and whiskers; ‘You +exchange?’ said I. ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘sometimes, +but we prefer selling; what book do you want?’ ‘A +Bible,’ said I. ‘Ah,’ said he, ‘there’s +a great demand for Bibles just now; all kinds of people are become very +pious of late,’ he added, grinning at me; ‘I am afraid I +can’t do business with you, more especially as the master is not +at home. What book have you brought?’ Taking the book +out of my pocket, I placed it on the counter: the young fellow opened +the book, and inspecting the title-page, burst into a loud laugh. +‘What do you laugh for?’ said I, angrily, and half clenching +my fist. ‘Laugh!’ said the young fellow; ‘laugh! +who could help laughing?’ ‘I could,’ said I; +‘I see nothing to laugh at; I want to exchange this book for a +Bible.’ ‘You do?’ said the young fellow; ‘well, +I daresay there are plenty who would be willing to exchange, that is, +if they dared. I wish master were at home; but that would never +do, either. Master’s a family man, the Bibles are not mine, +and master being a family man, is sharp, and knows all his stock; I’d +buy it of you, but, to tell you the truth, I am quite empty here,’ +said he, pointing to his pocket, ‘so I am afraid we can’t +deal.’<br> +<br> +Whereupon, looking anxiously at the young man, ‘What am I to do?’ +said I; ‘I really want a Bible.’<br> +<br> +‘Can’t you buy one?’ said the young man; ‘have +you no money?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘I have some, but I am merely the agent +of another; I came to exchange, not to buy; what am I to do?’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t know,’ said the young man, thoughtfully laying +down the book on the counter; ‘I don’t know what you can +do; I think you will find some difficulty in this bartering job, the +trade are rather precise.’ All at once he laughed louder +than before; suddenly stopping, however, he put on a very grave look. +‘Take my advice,’ said he; ‘there is a firm established +in this neighbourhood which scarcely sells any books but Bibles; they +are very rich, and pride themselves on selling their books at the lowest +possible price; apply to them, who knows but what they will exchange +with you?’<br> +<br> +Thereupon I demanded with some eagerness of the young man the direction +to the place where he thought it possible that I might effect the exchange +- which direction the young fellow cheerfully gave me, and, as I turned +away, had the civility to wish me success.<br> +<br> +I had no difficulty in finding the house to which the young fellow directed +me; it was a very large house, situated in a square; and upon the side +of the house was written in large letters, ‘Bibles, and other +religious books.’<br> +<br> +At the door of the house were two or three tumbrils, in the act of being +loaded with chests, very much resembling tea-chests; one of the chests +falling down, burst, and out flew, not tea, but various books, in a +neat, small size, and in neat leather covers; Bibles, said I, - Bibles, +doubtless. I was not quite right, nor quite wrong; picking up +one of the books, I looked at it for a moment, and found it to be the +New Testament. ‘Come, young lad,’ said a man who stood +by, in the dress of a porter, ‘put that book down, it is none +of yours; if you want a book, go in and deal for one.’<br> +<br> +Deal, thought I, deal, - the man seems to know what I am coming about, +- and going in, I presently found myself in a very large room. +Behind a counter two men stood with their backs to a splendid fire, +warming themselves, for the weather was cold.<br> +<br> +Of these men one was dressed in brown, and the other was dressed in +black; both were tall men - he who was dressed in brown was thin, and +had a particularly ill-natured countenance; the man dressed in black +was bulky, his features were noble, but they were those of a lion.<br> +<br> +‘What is your business, young man?’ said the precise personage, +as I stood staring at him and his companion.<br> +<br> +‘I want a Bible,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘What price, what size?’ said the precise-looking man.<br> +<br> +‘As to size,’ said I, ‘I should like to have a large +one - that is, if you can afford me one - I do not come to buy.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, friend,’ said the precise-looking man, ‘if you +come here expecting to have a Bible for nothing, you are mistaken - +we - ’<br> +<br> +‘I would scorn to have a Bible for nothing,’ said I, ‘or +anything else; I came not to beg, but to barter; there is no shame in +that, especially in a country like this, where all folks barter.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, we don’t barter,’ said the precise man, ‘at +least Bibles; you had better depart.’<br> +<br> +‘Stay, brother,’ said the man with the countenance of a +lion, ‘let us ask a few questions; this may be a very important +case; perhaps the young man has had convictions.’<br> +<br> +‘Not I,’ I exclaimed, ‘I am convinced of nothing, +and with regard to the Bible - I don’t believe - ’<br> +<br> +‘Hey!’ said the man with the lion countenance, and there +he stopped. But with that ‘Hey’ the walls of the house +seemed to shake, the windows rattled, and the porter whom I had seen +in front of the house came running up the steps, and looked into the +apartment through the glass of the door.<br> +<br> +There was silence for about a minute - the same kind of silence which +succeeds a clap of thunder.<br> +<br> +At last the man with the lion countenance, who had kept his eyes fixed +upon me, said calmly, ‘Were you about to say that you don’t +believe in the Bible, young man?’<br> +<br> +‘No more than in anything else,’ said I; ‘you were +talking of convictions - I have no convictions. It is not easy +to believe in the Bible till one is convinced that there is a Bible.’<br> +<br> +‘He seems to be insane,’ said the prim-looking man; ‘we +had better order the porter to turn him out.’<br> +<br> +‘I am by no means certain,’ said I, ‘that the porter +could turn me out; always provided there is a porter, and this system +of ours be not a lie, and a dream.’<br> +<br> +‘Come,’ said the lion-looking man, impatiently, ‘a +truce with this nonsense. If the porter cannot turn you out, perhaps +some other person can; but to the point - you want a Bible?’<br> +<br> +‘I do,’ said I, ‘but not for myself; I was sent by +another person to offer something in exchange for one.’<br> +<br> +‘And who is that person?’<br> +<br> +‘A poor old woman, who has had what you call convictions, - heard +voices, or thought she heard them - I forgot to ask her whether they +were loud ones.’<br> +<br> +‘What has she sent to offer in exchange?’ said the man, +without taking any notice of the concluding part of my speech.<br> +<br> +‘A book,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Let me see it.’<br> +<br> +‘Nay, brother,’ said the precise man, ‘this will never +do; if we once adopt the system of barter, we shall have all the holders +of useless rubbish in the town applying to us.’<br> +<br> +‘I wish to see what he has brought,’ said the other; ‘perhaps +Baxter, or Jewell’s <i>Apology</i>, either of which would make +a valuable addition to our collection. Well, young man, what’s +the matter with you?’<br> +<br> +I stood like one petrified; I had put my hand into my pocket - the book +was gone.<br> +<br> +‘What’s the matter?’ repeated the man with the lion +countenance, in a voice very much resembling thunder.<br> +<br> +‘I have it not - I have lost it!’<br> +<br> +‘A pretty story, truly,’ said the precise-looking man, ‘lost +it! You had better retire,’ said the other.<br> +<br> +‘How shall I appear before the party who intrusted me with the +book? She will certainly think that I have purloined it, notwithstanding +all I can say; nor, indeed, can I blame her, - appearances are certainly +against me.’<br> +<br> +‘They are so - you had better retire.’<br> +<br> +I moved towards the door. ‘Stay, young man, one word more; +there is only one way of proceeding which would induce me to believe +that you are sincere.’<br> +<br> +‘What is that?’ said I, stopping and looking at him anxiously.<br> +<br> +‘The purchase of a Bible.’<br> +<br> +‘Purchase!’ said I, ‘purchase! I came not to +purchase, but to barter; such was my instruction, and how can I barter +if I have lost the book?’<br> +<br> +The other made no answer, and turning away I made for the door; all +of a sudden I started, and turning round, ‘Dear me,’ said +I, ‘it has just come into my head, that if the book was lost by +my negligence, as it must have been, I have clearly a right to make +it good.’<br> +<br> +No answer.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ I repeated, ‘I have clearly a right to make +it good; how glad I am! see the effect of a little reflection. +I will purchase a Bible instantly, that is, if I have not lost - ’ +and with considerable agitation I felt in my pocket.<br> +<br> +The prim-looking man smiled: ‘I suppose,’ said he, ‘that +he has lost his money as well as book.’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘I have not’; and pulling out +my hand I displayed no less a sum than three half-crowns.<br> +<br> +‘Oh, noble goddess of the Mint!’ as Dame Charlotta Nordenflycht, +the Swede, said a hundred and fifty years ago, ‘great is thy power; +how energetically the possession of thee speaks in favour of man’s +character!’<br> +<br> +‘Only half-a-crown for this Bible?’ said I, putting down +the money, ‘it is worth three’; and bowing to the man of +the noble features, I departed with my purchase.<br> +<br> +‘Queer customer,’ said the prim-looking man, as I was about +to close the door - ‘don’t like him.’<br> +<br> +‘Why, as to that, I scarcely know what to say,’ said he +of the countenance of a lion.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XLVI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The pickpocket - Strange rencounter - Drag him along - A great service +- Things of importance - Philological matters - Mother of languages +- Zhats!<br> +<br> +A few days after the occurrence of what is recorded in the last chapter, +as I was wandering in the City, chance directed my footsteps to an alley +leading from one narrow street to another in the neighbourhood of Cheapside. +Just before I reached the mouth of the alley, a man in a greatcoat, +closely followed by another, passed it; and, at the moment in which +they were passing, I observed the man behind snatch something from the +pocket of the other; whereupon, darting into the street, I seized the +hindermost man by the collar, crying at the same time to the other, +‘My good friend, this person has just picked your pocket.’<br> +<br> +The individual whom I addressed, turning round with a start, glanced +at me, and then at the person whom I held. London is the place +for strange rencounters. It appeared to me that I recognised both +individuals - the man whose pocket had been picked and the other; the +latter now began to struggle violently; ‘I have picked no one’s +pocket,’ said he. ‘Rascal,’ said the other, +‘you have got my pocket-book in your bosom.’ ‘No, +I have not,’ said the other; and, struggling more violently than +before, the pocket-book dropped from his bosom upon the ground.<br> +<br> +The other was now about to lay hands upon the fellow, who was still +struggling. ‘You had better take up your book,’ said +I; ‘I can hold him.’ He followed my advice; and, taking +up his pocket-book, surveyed my prisoner with a ferocious look, occasionally +glaring at me. Yes, I had seen him before - it was the stranger +whom I had observed on London Bridge, by the stall of the old apple-woman, +with the cap and cloak; but, instead of these, he now wore a hat and +greatcoat. ‘Well,’ said I, at last, ‘what am +I to do with this gentleman of ours?’ nodding to the prisoner, +who had now left off struggling. ‘Shall I let him go?’<br> +<br> +‘Go!’ said the other; ‘go! The knave - the rascal; +let him go, indeed! Not so, he shall go before the Lord Mayor. +Bring him along.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, let me go,’ said the other: ‘let me go; this +is the first offence, I assure ye - the first time I ever thought to +do anything wrong.’<br> +<br> +‘Hold your tongue,’ said I, ‘or I shall be angry with +you. If I am not very much mistaken, you once attempted to cheat +me.’<br> +<br> +‘I never saw you before in all my life,’ said the fellow, +though his countenance seemed to belie his words.<br> +<br> +‘That is not true,’ said I; ‘you are the man who attempted +to cheat me of one-and-ninepence in the coach-yard, on the first morning +of my arrival in London.’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t doubt it,’ said the other; ‘a confirmed +thief’; and here his tones became peculiarly sharp; ‘I would +fain see him hanged - crucified. Drag him along.’<br> +<br> +‘I am no constable,’ said I; ‘you have got your pocket-book, +- I would rather you would bid me let him go.’<br> +<br> +‘Bid you let him go!’ said the other almost furiously, ‘I +command - stay, what was I going to say? I was forgetting myself,’ +he observed more gently; ‘but he stole my pocket-book; - if you +did but know what it contained.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘if it contains anything valuable, +be the more thankful that you have recovered it; as for the man, I will +help you to take him where you please; but I wish you would let him +go.’<br> +<br> +The stranger hesitated, and there was an extraordinary play of emotion +in his features: he looked ferociously at the pickpocket, and, more +than once, somewhat suspiciously at myself; at last his countenance +cleared, and, with a good grace, he said, ‘Well, you have done +me a great service, and you have my consent to let him go; but the rascal +shall not escape with impunity,’ he exclaimed suddenly, as I let +the man go, and starting forward, before the fellow could escape, he +struck him a violent blow on the face. The man staggered, and +had nearly fallen; recovering himself, however, he said, ‘I tell +you what, my fellow; if I ever meet you in this street in a dark night, +and I have a knife about me, it shall be the worse for you; as for you, +young man,’ said he to me; but, observing that the other was making +towards him, he left whatever he was about to say unfinished, and, taking +to his heels, was out of sight in a moment.<br> +<br> +The stranger and myself walked in the direction of Cheapside, the way +in which he had been originally proceeding; he was silent for a few +moments, at length he said, ‘You have really done me a great service, +and I should be ungrateful not to acknowledge it. I am a merchant; +and a merchant’s pocket-book, as you perhaps know, contains many +things of importance; but, young man,’ he exclaimed, ‘I +think I have seen you before; I thought so at first, but where I cannot +exactly say: where was it?’ I mentioned London Bridge and +the old apple-woman. ‘Oh,’ said he, and smiled, and +there was something peculiar in his smile, ‘I remember now. +Do you frequently sit on London Bridge?’ ‘Occasionally,’ +said I; ‘that old woman is an old friend of mine.’ +‘Friend?’ said the stranger, ‘I am glad of it, for +I shall know where to find you. At present I am going to ‘Change; +time, you know, is precious to a merchant.’ We were by this +time close to Cheapside. ‘Farewell,’ said he, ‘I +shall not forget this service. I trust we shall soon meet again.’ +He then shook me by the hand and went his way.<br> +<br> +The next day, as I was seated beside the old woman in the booth, the +stranger again made his appearance, and, after a word or two, sat down +beside me; the old woman was sometimes reading the Bible, which she +had already had two or three days in her possession, and sometimes discoursing +with me. Our discourse rolled chiefly on philological matters.<br> +<br> +‘What do you call bread in your language?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘You mean the language of those who bring me things to buy, or +who did; for, as I told you before, I shan’t buy any more; it’s +no language of mine, dear - they call bread pannam in their language.’<br> +<br> +‘Pannam!’ said I, ‘pannam! evidently connected with, +if not derived from, the Latin panis; even as the word tanner, which +signifieth a sixpence, is connected with, if not derived from, the Latin +tener, which is itself connected with, if not derived from, tawno or +tawner, which, in the language of Mr. Petulengro, signifieth a sucking +child. Let me see, what is the term for bread in the language +of Mr. Petulengro? Morro, or manro, as I have sometimes heard +it called; is there not some connection between these words and panis? +Yes, I think there is; and I should not wonder if morro, manro, and +panis were connected, perhaps derived from, the same root; but what +is that root? I don’t know - I wish I did; though, perhaps, +I should not be the happier. Morro - manro! I rather think +morro is the oldest form; it is easier to say morro than manro. +Morro! Irish, aran; Welsh, bara; English, bread. I can see +a resemblance between all the words, and pannam too; and I rather think +that the Petulengrian word is the elder. How odd it would be if +the language of Mr. Petulengro should eventually turn out to be the +mother of all the languages in the world; yet it is certain that there +are some languages in which the terms for bread have no connection with +the word used by Mr. Petulengro, notwithstanding that those languages, +in many other points, exhibit a close affinity to the language of the +horse-shoe master: for example, bread, in Hebrew, is Laham, which assuredly +exhibits little similitude to the word used by the aforesaid Petulengro. +In Armenian it is - ’<br> +<br> +‘Zhats!’ said the stranger, starting up. ‘By +the Patriarch and the Three Holy Churches, this is wonderful! +How came you to know aught of Armenian?’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XLVII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +New acquaintance - Wired cases - Bread and wine - Armenian colonies +- Learning without money - What a language - The tide - Your foible +- Learning of the Haiks - Old proverb - Pressing invitation.<br> +<br> +Just as I was about to reply to the interrogation of my new-formed acquaintance, +a man with a dusky countenance, probably one of the Lascars, or Mulattos, +of whom the old woman had spoken, came up and whispered to him, and +with this man he presently departed, not however before he had told +me the place of his abode, and requested me to visit him.<br> +<br> +After the lapse of a few days, I called at the house which he had indicated. +It was situated in a dark and narrow street, in the heart of the City, +at no great distance from the Bank. I entered a counting-room, +in which a solitary clerk, with a foreign look, was writing. The +stranger was not at home; returning the next day, however, I met him +at the door as he was about to enter; he shook me warmly by the hand. +‘I am glad to see you,’ said he, ‘follow me, I was +just thinking of you.’ He led me through the counting-room, +to an apartment up a flight of stairs; before ascending, however, he +looked into the book in which the foreign-visaged clerk was writing, +and, seemingly not satisfied with the manner in which he was executing +his task, he gave him two or three cuffs, telling him at the same time +that he deserved crucifixion.<br> +<br> +The apartment above stairs, to which he led me, was large, with three +windows, which opened upon the street. The walls were hung with +wired cases, apparently containing books. There was a table and +two or three chairs; but the principal article of furniture was a long +sofa, extending from the door by which we entered to the farther end +of the apartment. Seating himself upon the sofa, my new acquaintance +motioned to me to sit beside him, and then, looking me full in the face, +repeated his former inquiry. ‘In the name of all that is +wonderful, how came you to know aught of my language?’<br> +<br> +‘There is nothing wonderful in that,’ said I; ‘we +are at the commencement of a philological age, every one studies languages; +that is, every one who is fit for nothing else; philology being the +last resource of dulness and ennui, I have got a little in advance of +the throng, by mastering the Armenian alphabet; but I foresee the time +when every unmarriageable miss, and desperate blockhead, will likewise +have acquired the letters of Mesroub, and will know the term for bread, +in Armenian, and perhaps that for wine.’<br> +<br> +‘Kini,’ said my companion; and that and the other word put +me in mind of the duties of hospitality. ‘Will you eat bread +and drink wine with me?’<br> +<br> +‘Willingly,’ said I. Whereupon my companion, unlocking +a closet, produced, on a silver salver, a loaf of bread, with a silver-handled +knife, and wine in a silver flask, with cups of the same metal. +‘ I hope you like my fare,’ said he, after we had both eaten +and drunk.<br> +<br> +‘I like your bread,’ said I, ‘for it is stale; I like +not your wine, it is sweet, and I hate sweet wine.’<br> +<br> +‘It is wine of Cyprus,’ said my entertainer; and, when I +found that it was wine of Cyprus, I tasted it again, and the second +taste pleased me much better than the first, notwithstanding that I +still thought it somewhat sweet. ‘So,’ said I, after +a pause, looking at my companion, ‘you are an Armenian.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said he, ‘an Armenian born in London, but not +less an Armenian on that account. My father was a native of Ispahan, +one of the celebrated Armenian colony which was established there shortly +after the time of the dreadful hunger, which drove the children of Haik +in swarms from their original country, and scattered them over most +parts of the eastern and western world. In Ispahan he passed the +greater portion of his life, following mercantile pursuits with considerable +success. Certain enemies, however, having accused him to the despot +of the place, of using seditious language, he was compelled to flee, +leaving most of his property behind. Travelling in the direction +of the west, he came at last to London, where he established himself, +and where he eventually died, leaving behind a large property and myself, +his only child, the fruit of a marriage with an Armenian Englishwoman, +who did not survive my birth more than three months.’<br> +<br> +The Armenian then proceeded to tell me that he had carried on the business +of his father, which seemed to embrace most matters, from buying silks +of Lascars, to speculating in the funds, and that he had considerably +increased the property which his father had left him. He candidly +confessed that he was wonderfully fond of gold, and said there was nothing +like it for giving a person respectability and consideration in the +world: to which assertion I made no answer, being not exactly prepared +to contradict it.<br> +<br> +And, when he had related to me his history, he expressed a desire to +know something more of myself, whereupon I gave him the outline of my +history, concluding with saying, ‘I am now a poor author, or rather +philologist, upon the streets of London, possessed of many tongues, +which I find of no use in the world.’<br> +<br> +‘Learning without money is anything but desirable,’ said +the Armenian, ‘as it unfits a man for humble occupations. +It is true that it may occasionally beget him friends; I confess to +you that your understanding something of my language weighs more with +me than the service you rendered me in rescuing my pocket-book the other +day from the claws of that scoundrel whom I yet hope to see hanged, +if not crucified, notwithstanding there were in that pocket-book papers +and documents of considerable value. Yes, that circumstance makes +my heart warm towards you, for I am proud of my language - as I indeed +well may be - what a language, noble and energetic! quite original, +differing from all others both in words and structure.’<br> +<br> +‘You are mistaken,’ said I; ‘many languages resemble +the Armenian both in structure and words.’<br> +<br> +‘For example?’ said the Armenian.<br> +<br> +‘For example,’ said I, ‘the English.’<br> +<br> +‘The English!’ said the Armenian; ‘show me one word +in which the English resembles the Armenian.’<br> +<br> +‘You walk on London Bridge,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said the Armenian.<br> +<br> +‘I saw you look over the balustrade the other morning.’<br> +<br> +‘True,’ said the Armenian.<br> +<br> +‘Well, what did you see rushing up through the arches with noise +and foam?’<br> +<br> +‘What was it?’ said the Armenian. ‘What was +it? - you don’t mean the <i>tide?’<br> +<br> +</i>‘Do I not?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Well, what has the tide to do with the matter?’<br> +<br> +‘Much,’ said I; ‘what is the tide?’<br> +<br> +‘The ebb and flow of the sea,’ said the Armenian.<br> +<br> +‘The sea itself; what is the Haik word for sea?’<br> +<br> +The Armenian gave a strong gasp; then, nodding his head thrice, ‘You +are right,’ said he, ‘the English word tide is the Armenian +for sea; and now I begin to perceive that there are many English words +which are Armenian; there is - and -; and there again in French, there +is - and - derived from the Armenian. How strange, how singular +- I thank you. It is a proud thing to see that the language of +my race has had so much influence over the languages of the world.’<br> +<br> +I saw that all that related to his race was the weak point of the Armenian. +I did not flatter the Armenian with respect to his race or language. +‘An inconsiderable people,’ said I, ‘shrewd and industrious, +but still an inconsiderable people. A language bold and expressive, +and of some antiquity, derived, though perhaps not immediately, from +some much older tongue. I do not think that the Armenian has had +any influence over the formation of the languages of the world, I am +not much indebted to the Armenian for the solution of any doubts; whereas +to the language of Mr. Petulengro - ’<br> +<br> +‘I have heard you mention that name before,’ said the Armenian; +‘who is Mr. Petulengro?’<br> +<br> +And then I told the Armenian who Mr. Petulengro was. The Armenian +spoke contemptuously of Mr. Petulengro and his race. ‘Don’t +speak contemptuously of Mr. Petulengro,’ said I, ‘nor of +anything belonging to him. He is a dark mysterious personage; +all connected with him is a mystery, especially his language; but I +believe that his language is doomed to solve a great philological problem +- Mr. Petulengo - ’<br> +<br> +‘You appear agitated,’ said the Armenian; ‘take another +glass of wine; you possess a great deal of philological knowledge, but +it appears to me that the language of this Petulengro is your foible: +but let us change the subject; I feel much interested in you, and would +fain be of service to you. Can you cast accounts?’<br> +<br> +I shook my head.<br> +<br> +‘Keep books?’<br> +<br> +‘I have an idea that I could write books,’ said I; ‘but, +as to keeping them - ’ and here again I shook my head.<br> +<br> +The Armenian was silent some time; all at once, glancing at one of the +wire cases, with which, as I have already said, the walls of the room +were hung, he asked me if I was well acquainted with the learning of +the Haiks. ‘The books in these cases,’ said he, ‘contain +the masterpieces of Haik learning.’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I; ‘all I know of the learning of the Haiks +is their translation of the Bible.’<br> +<br> +‘You have never read Z-?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘I have never read Z-.’<br> +<br> +‘I have a plan,’ said the Armenian; ‘I think I can +employ you agreeably and profitably; I should like to see Z- in an English +dress; you shall translate Z- If you can read the Scriptures in +Armenian, you can translate Z-. He is our Esop, the most acute +and clever of all our moral writers - his philosophy - ’<br> +<br> +‘I will have nothing to do with him,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Wherefore?’ said the Armenian.<br> +<br> +‘There is an old proverb,’ said I, ‘“that a +burnt child avoids the fire.” I have burnt my hands sufficiently +with attempting to translate philosophy, to make me cautious of venturing +upon it again’; and then I told the Armenian how I had been persuaded +by the publisher to translate his philosophy into German, and what sorry +thanks I had received; ‘And who knows,’ said I, ‘but +the attempt to translate Armenian philosophy into English might he attended +with yet more disagreeable consequences?’<br> +<br> +The Armenian smiled. ‘You would find me very different from +the publisher.’<br> +<br> +‘In many points I have no doubt I should,’ I replied; ‘but +at the present moment I feel like a bird which has escaped from a cage, +and, though hungry, feels no disposition to return. Of what nation +is the dark man below stairs, whom I saw writing at the desk?’<br> +<br> +‘He is a Moldave,’ said the Armenian; ‘the dog (and +here his eyes sparkled) deserves to be crucified, he is continually +making mistakes.’<br> +<br> +The Armenian again renewed his proposition about Z-, which I again refused, +as I felt but little inclination to place myself beneath the jurisdiction +of a person who was in the habit of cuffing those whom he employed, +when they made mistakes. I presently took my departure; not, however, +before I had received from the Armenian a pressing invitation to call +upon him whenever I should feel disposed.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XLVIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +What to do - Strong enough - Fame and profit - Alliterative euphony +- Excellent fellow - Listen to me - A plan - Bagnigge Wells.<br> +<br> +Anxious thoughts frequently disturbed me at this time with respect to +what I was to do, and how support myself in the Great City. My +future prospects were gloomy enough, and I looked forward and feared; +sometimes I felt half disposed to accept the offer of the Armenian, +and to commence forthwith, under his superintendence, the translation +of the Haik Esop; but the remembrance of the cuffs which I had seen +him bestow upon the Moldavian, when glancing over his shoulder into +the ledger or whatever it was on which he was employed, immediately +drove the inclination from my mind. I could not support the idea +of the possibility of his staring over my shoulder upon my translation +of the Haik Esop, and, dissatisfied with my attempts, treating me as +he had treated the Moldavian clerk; placing myself in a position which +exposed me to such treatment would indeed be plunging into the fire +after escaping from the frying-pan. The publisher, insolent and +overbearing as he was, whatever he might have wished or thought, had +never lifted his hand against me, or told me that I merited crucifixion.<br> +<br> +What was I to do? turn porter? I was strong; but there was something +besides strength required to ply the trade of a porter - a mind of a +particularly phlegmatic temperament, which I did not possess. +What should I do? enlist as a soldier? I was tall enough; but something +besides height is required to make a man play with credit the part of +soldier, I mean a private one - a spirit, if spirit it can be called, +which will not only enable a man to submit with patience to insolence +and abuse, and even to cuffs and kicks, but occasionally to the lash. +I felt that I was not qualified to be a soldier, at least a private +one; far better be a drudge to the most ferocious of publishers, editing +Newgate lives, and writing in eighteenpenny reviews - better to translate +the Haik Esop, under the superintendence of ten Armenians, than be a +private soldier in the English service; I did not decide rashly - I +knew something of soldiering. What should I do? I thought +that I would make a last and desperate attempt to dispose of the ballads +and of Ab Gwilym.<br> +<br> +I had still an idea that, provided I could persuade any spirited publisher +to give these translations to the world, I should acquire both considerable +fame and profit; not, perhaps, a world-embracing fame such as Byron’s; +but a fame not to be sneered at, which would last me a considerable +time, and would keep my heart from breaking; - profit, not equal to +that which Scott had made by his wondrous novels, but which would prevent +me from starving, and enable me to achieve some other literary enterprise. +I read and re-read my ballads, and the more I read them the more I was +convinced that the public, in the event of their being published, would +freely purchase, and hail them with the merited applause. Were +not the deeds and adventures wonderful and heart-stirring - from which +it is true I could claim no merit, being but the translator; but had +I not rendered them into English, with all their original fire? +Yes, I was confident I had; and I had no doubt that the public would +say so. And then, with respect to Ab Gwilym, had I not done as +much justice to him as to the Danish ballads; not only rendering faithfully +his thoughts, imagery, and phraseology, but even preserving in my translation +the alliterative euphony which constitutes one of the most remarkable +features of Welsh prosody? Yes, I had accomplished all this; and +I doubted not that the public would receive my translations from Ab +Gwilym with quite as much eagerness as my version of the Danish ballads. +But I found the publishers as intractable as ever, and to this day the +public has never had an opportunity of doing justice to the glowing +fire of my ballad versification, and the alliterative euphony of my +imitations of Ab Gwilym.<br> +<br> +I had not seen Francis Ardry since the day I had seen him taking lessons +in elocution. One afternoon as I was seated at my table, my head +resting on my hands, he entered my apartment; sitting down, he inquired +of me why I had not been to see him.<br> +<br> +‘I might ask the same question of you,’ I replied. +‘Wherefore have you not been to see me?’ Whereupon +Francis Ardry told me that he had been much engaged in his oratorical +exercises, also in escorting the young Frenchwoman about to places of +public amusement; he then again questioned me as to the reason of my +not having been to see him.<br> +<br> +I returned an evasive answer. The truth was, that for some time +past my appearance, owing to the state of my finances, had been rather +shabby; and I did not wish to expose a fashionable young man like Francis +Ardry, who lived in a fashionable neighbourhood, to the imputation of +having a shabby acquaintance. I was aware that Francis Ardry was +an excellent fellow; but, on that very account, I felt, under existing +circumstances, a delicacy in visiting him.<br> +<br> +It is very possible that he had an inkling of how matters stood, as +he presently began to talk of my affairs and prospects. I told +him of my late ill success with the booksellers, and inveighed against +their blindness to their own interest in refusing to publish my translations. +‘The last that I addressed myself to,’ said I, ‘told +me not to trouble him again unless I could bring him a decent novel +or a tale.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said Frank, ‘and why did you not carry him +a decent novel or a tale?’<br> +<br> +‘Because I have neither,’ said I; ‘and to write them +is, I believe, above my capacity. At present I feel divested of +all energy - heartless, and almost hopeless.’<br> +<br> +‘I see how it is,’ said Francis Ardry, ‘you have overworked +yourself, and, worst of all, to no purpose. Take my advice; cast +all care aside, and only think of diverting yourself for a month at +least.’<br> +<br> +‘Divert myself!’ said I; ‘and where am I to find the +means?’<br> +<br> +‘Be that care on my shoulders,’ said Francis Ardry. +‘Listen to me - my uncles have been so delighted with the favourable +accounts which they have lately received from T- of my progress in oratory, +that, in the warmth of their hearts, they made me a present yesterday +of two hundred pounds. This is more money than I want, at least +for the present; do me the favour to take half of it as a loan - hear +me,’ said he, observing that I was about to interrupt him; ‘I +have a plan in my head - one of the prettiest in the world. The +sister of my charmer is just arrived from France; she cannot speak a +word of English; and, as Annette and myself are much engaged in our +own matters, we cannot pay her the attention which we should wish, and +which she deserves, for she is a truly fascinating creature, although +somewhat differing from my charmer, having blue eyes and flaxen hair; +whilst, Annette, on the contrary - But I hope you will shortly see Annette. +Now, my plan is this - Take the money, dress yourself fashionably, and +conduct Annette’s sister to Bagnigge Wells.’<br> +<br> +‘And what should we do at Bagnigge Wells?’<br> +<br> +‘Do!’ said Francis Ardry. ‘Dance!’<br> +<br> +‘But,’ said I, ‘I scarcely know anything of dancing.’<br> +<br> +‘Then here’s an excellent opportunity of improving yourself. +Like most Frenchwomen, she dances divinely; however, if you object to +Bagnigge Wells and dancing, go to Brighton, and remain there a month +or two, at the end of which time you can return with your mind refreshed +and invigorated, and materials, perhaps, for a tale or novel.’<br> +<br> +‘I never heard a more foolish, plan,’ said I, ‘or +one less likely to terminate profitably or satisfactorily. I thank +you, however, for your offer, which is, I daresay, well meant. +If I am to escape from my cares and troubles, and find my mind refreshed +and invigorated, I must adopt other means than conducting a French demoiselle +to Brighton or Bagnigge Wells, defraying the expense by borrowing from +a friend.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XLIX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Singular personage - A large sum - Papa of Rome - We are Christians +- Degenerate Armenians - Roots of Ararat - Regular features.<br> +<br> +The Armenian! I frequently saw this individual, availing myself +of the permission which he had given me to call upon him. A truly +singular personage was he, with his love of amassing money, and his +nationality so strong as to be akin to poetry. Many an Armenian +I have subsequently known fond of money-getting, and not destitute of +national spirit; but never another, who, in the midst of his schemes +of lucre, was at all times willing to enter into a conversation on the +structure of the Haik language, or who ever offered me money to render +into English the fables of Z- in the hope of astonishing the stock-jobbers +of the Exchange with the wisdom of the Haik Esop.<br> +<br> +But he was fond of money, very fond. Within a little time I had +won his confidence to such a degree that he informed me that the grand +wish of his heart was to be possessed of two hundred thousand pounds.<br> +<br> +‘I think you might satisfy yourself with the half,’ said +I. ‘One hundred thousand pounds is a large sum.’<br> +<br> +‘You are mistaken,’ said the Armenian, ‘a hundred +thousand pounds is nothing. My father left me that or more at +his death. No, I shall never be satisfied with less than two.’<br> +<br> +‘And what will you do with your riches,’ said I, ‘when +you have obtained them? Will you sit down and muse upon them, +or will you deposit them in a cellar, and go down once a day to stare +at them? I have heard say that the fulfilment of one’s wishes +is invariably the precursor of extreme misery, and forsooth I can scarcely +conceive a more horrible state of existence than to be without a hope +or wish.’<br> +<br> +‘It is bad enough, I daresay,’ said the Armenian; ‘it +will, however, be time enough to think of disposing of the money when +I have procured it. I still fall short by a vast sum of the two +hundred thousand pounds.’<br> +<br> +I had occasionally much conversation with him on the state and prospects +of his nation, especially of that part of it which still continued in +the original country of the Haiks - Ararat and its confines, which, +it appeared, he had frequently visited. He informed me that since +the death of the last Haik monarch, which occurred in the eleventh century, +Armenia had been governed both temporally and spiritually by certain +personages called patriarchs; their temporal authority, however, was +much circumscribed by the Persian and Turk, especially the former, of +whom the Armenian spoke with much hatred, whilst their spiritual authority +had at various times been considerably undermined by the emissaries +of the Papa of Rome, as the Armenian called him.<br> +<br> +‘The Papa of Rome sent his emissaries at an early period amongst +us,’ said the Armenian, ‘seducing the minds of weak-headed +people, persuading them that the hillocks of Rome are higher than the +ridges of Ararat; that the Roman Papa has more to say in heaven than +the Armenian patriarch, and that puny Latin is a better language than +nervous and sonorous Haik.’<br> +<br> +‘They are both dialects,’ said I, ‘of the language +of Mr. Petulengro, one of whose race I believe to have been the original +founder of Rome; but, with respect to religion, what are the chief points +of your faith? you are Christians, I believe.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said the Armenian, ‘we are Christians in our +way; we believe in God, the Holy Spirit, and Saviour, though we are +not prepared to admit that the last personage is not only himself, but +the other two. We believe . . .’ and then the Armenian told +me of several things which the Haiks believed or disbelieved. +‘But what we find most hard of all to believe,’ said he, +‘is that the man of the mole-hills is entitled to our allegiance, +he not being a Haik, or understanding the Haik language.’<br> +<br> +‘But, by your own confession,’ said I, ‘he has introduced +a schism in your nation, and has amongst you many that believe in him.’<br> +<br> +‘It is true,’ said the Armenian, I that even on the confines +of Ararat there are a great number who consider that mountain to be +lower than the hillocks of Rome; but the greater number of degenerate +Armenians are to be found amongst those who have wandered to the west; +most of the Haik churches of the west consider Rome to be higher than +Ararat - most of the Armenians of this place hold that dogma; I, however, +have always stood firm in the contrary opinion.<br> +<br> +‘Ha! ha!’ - here the Armenian laughed in his peculiar manner +- ‘talking of this matter puts me in mind of an adventure which +lately befell me, with one of the emissaries of the Papa of Rome, for +the Papa of Rome has at present many emissaries in this country, in +order to seduce the people from their own quiet religion to the savage +heresy of Rome; this fellow came to me partly in the hope of converting +me, but principally to extort money for the purpose of furthering the +designs of Rome in this country. I humoured the fellow at first, +keeping him in play for nearly a month, deceiving and laughing at him. +At last he discovered that he could make nothing of me, and departed +with the scowl of Caiaphas, whilst I cried after him, ‘The roots +of Ararat are <i>deeper</i> than those of Rome.’<br> +<br> +The Armenian had occasionally reverted to the subject of the translation +of the Haik Esop, which he had still a lurking desire that I should +execute; but I had invariably declined the undertaking, without, however, +stating my reasons. On one occasion, when we had been conversing +on the subject, the Armenian, who had been observing my countenance +for some time with much attention, remarked, ‘Perhaps, after all, +you are right, and you might employ your time to better advantage. +Literature is a fine thing, especially Haik literature, but neither +that nor any other would be likely to serve as a foundation to a man’s +fortune: and to make a fortune should be the principal aim of every +one’s life; therefore listen to me. Accept a seat at the +desk opposite to my Moldavian clerk, and receive the rudiments of a +merchant’s education. You shall be instructed in the Armenian +way of doing business - I think you would make an excellent merchant.’<br> +<br> +‘Why do you think so?’<br> +<br> +‘Because you have something of the Armenian look.’<br> +<br> +‘I understand you,’ said I; ‘you mean to say that +I squint!’<br> +<br> +‘Not exactly,’ said the Armenian, ‘but there is certainly +a kind of irregularity in your features. One eye appears to me +larger than the other - never mind, but rather rejoice; in that irregularity +consists your strength. All people with regular features are fools; +it is very hard for them, you’ll say, but there is no help: all +we can do, who are not in such a predicament, is to pity those who are. +Well! will you accept my offer? No! you are a singular individual; +but I must not forget my own concerns. I must now go forth, having +an appointment by which I hope to make money.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER L<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Wish fulfilled - Extraordinary figure - Bueno - Noah - The two faces +- I don’t blame him - Too fond of money - Were I an Armenian.<br> +<br> +The fulfilment of the Armenian’s grand wish was nearer at hand +than either he or I had anticipated. Partly owing to the success +of a bold speculation, in which he had some time previously engaged, +and partly owing to the bequest of a large sum of money by one of his +nation who died at this period in Paris, he found himself in the possession +of a fortune somewhat exceeding two hundred thousand pounds; this fact +he communicated to me one evening about an hour after the close of ‘Change; +the hour at which I generally called, and at which I mostly found him +at home.<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘and what do you intend to do next?’<br> +<br> +‘I scarcely know,’ said the Armenian. ‘I was +thinking of that when you came in. I don’t see anything +that I can do, save going on in my former course. After all, I +was perhaps too moderate in making the possession of two hundred thousand +pounds the summit of my ambition; there are many individuals in this +town who possess three times that sum, and are not yet satisfied. +No, I think I can do no better than pursue the old career; who knows +but I may make the two hundred thousand three or four? - there is already +a surplus, which is an encouragement; however, we will consider the +matter over a goblet of wine; I have observed of late that you have +become partial to my Cyprus.’<br> +<br> +And it came to pass that, as we were seated over the Cyprus wine, we +heard a knock at the door. ‘Adelante!’ cried the Armenian; +whereupon the door opened, and in walked a somewhat extraordinary figure +- a man in a long loose tunic of a stuff striped with black and yellow; +breeches of plush velvet, silk stockings, and shoes with silver buckles. +On his head he wore a high-peaked hat; he was tall, had a hooked nose, +and in age was about fifty.<br> +<br> +‘Welcome, Rabbi Manasseh,’ said the Armenian. ‘I +know your knock - you are welcome; sit down.’<br> +<br> +‘I am welcome,’ said Manasseh, sitting down; ‘he - +he - he! you know my knock - I bring you money - <i>bueno</i>!’<br> +<br> +There was something very peculiar in the sound of that bueno - I never +forgot it.<br> +<br> +Thereupon a conversation ensued between Rabbi Manasseh and the Armenian, +in a language which I knew to be Spanish, though a peculiar dialect. +It related to a mercantile transaction. The Rabbi sighed heavily +as he delivered to the other a considerable sum of money.<br> +<br> +‘It is right,’ said the Armenian, handing a receipt. +‘It is right; and I am quite satisfied.’<br> +<br> +‘You are satisfied - you have taken money. <i>Bueno</i>, +I have nothing to say against your being satisfied.’<br> +<br> +‘Come, Rabbi,’ said the Armenian, ‘do not despond; +it may be your turn next to take money; in the meantime, can’t +you be persuaded to taste my Cyprus?’<br> +<br> +‘He - he - he! señor, you know I do not love wine. +I love Noah when he is himself; but, as Janus, I love him not. +But you are merry; <i>bueno</i>, you have a right to be so.’<br> +<br> +‘Excuse me,’ said I; ‘but does Noah ever appear as +Janus?’<br> +<br> +‘He - he - he!’ said the Rabbi, ‘he only appeared +as Janus once - una vez quando estuvo borracho; which means - ’<br> +<br> +‘I understand,’ said I; ‘when he was . . .’ +and I drew the side of my right hand sharply across my left wrist.<br> +<br> +‘Are you one of our people?’ said the Rabbi.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘I am one of the Goyim; but I am only +half enlightened. Why should Noah be Janus when he was in that +state?’<br> +<br> +‘He - he - he! you must know that in Lasan akhades wine is janin.’<br> +<br> +‘In Armenian, kini,’ said I; ‘in Welsh, gwin; Latin, +vinum; but do you think that Janus and janin are one?’<br> +<br> +‘Do I think? Don’t the commentators say so? +Does not Master Leo Abarbenel say so in his <i>Dialogues of Divine Love</i>’?<br> +<br> +‘But,’ said I, ‘I always thought that Janus was a +god of the ancient Romans, who stood in a temple open in time of war, +and shut in time of peace; he was represented with two faces, which +- which - ’<br> +<br> +‘He - he - he!’ said the Rabbi, rising from his seat; ‘he +had two faces, had he? And what did those two faces typify? +You do not know; no, nor did the Romans who carved him with two faces +know why they did so; for they were only half enlightened, like you +and the rest of the Goyim. Yet they were right in carving him +with two faces looking from each other - they were right, though they +knew not why; there was a tradition among them that the Janinoso had +two faces, but they knew not that one was for the world which was gone +and the other for the world before him - for the drowned world and for +the present, as Master Leo Abarbenel says in his <i>Dialogues</i> <i>of +Divine Love</i>. He - he - he!’ continued the Rabbi, who +had by this time advanced to the door, and, turning round, waved the +two forefingers of his right hand in our faces; ‘the Goyims and +Epicouraiyim are clever men, they know how to make money better than +we of Israel. My good friend there is a clever man, I bring him +money, he never brought me any; <i>bueno</i>, I do not blame him, he +knows much, very much; but one thing there is my friend does not know, +nor any of the Epicureans, he does not know the sacred thing - he has +never received the gift of interpretation which God alone gives to the +seed - he has his gift, I have mine - he is satisfied, I don’t +blame him, <i>bueno</i>.’<br> +<br> +And, with this last word in his mouth, he departed.<br> +<br> +‘Is that man a native of Spain?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘Not a native of Spain,’ said the Armenian, ‘though +he is one of those who call themselves Spanish Jews, and who are to +be found scattered throughout Europe, speaking the Spanish language +transmitted to them by their ancestors, who were expelled from Spain +in the time of Ferdinand and Isabella.’<br> +<br> +‘The Jews are a singular people,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘A race of cowards and dastards,’ said the Armenian, ‘without +a home or country; servants to servants; persecuted and despised by +all.’<br> +<br> +‘And what are the Haiks?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘Very different from the Jews,’ replied the Armenian; ‘the +Haiks have a home - a country, and can occasionally use a good sword; +though it is true they are not what they might be.’<br> +<br> +‘Then it is a shame that they do not become so,’ said I; +‘but they are too fond of money. There is yourself, with +two hundred thousand pounds in your pocket, craving for more, whilst +you might be turning your wealth to the service of your country.’<br> +<br> +‘In what manner?’ said the Armenian.<br> +<br> +‘I have heard you say that the grand oppressor of your country +is the Persian; why not attempt to free your country from his oppression +- you have two hundred thousand pounds, and money is the sinew of war?’<br> +<br> +‘Would you, then, have me attack the Persian?’<br> +<br> +‘I scarcely know what to say; fighting is a rough trade, and I +am by no means certain that you are calculated for the scratch. +It is not every one who has been brought up in the school of Mr. Petulengro +and Tawno Chikno. All I can say is, that if I were an Armenian, +and had two hundred thousand pounds to back me, I would attack the Persian.’<br> +<br> +‘Hem!’ said the Armenian.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The one half-crown - Merit in patience - Cementer of friendship - Dreadful +perplexity - The usual guttural - Armenian letters - Much indebted to +you - Pure helplessness - Dumb people.<br> +<br> +One morning on getting up I discovered that my whole worldly wealth +was reduced to one half-crown - throughout that day I walked about in +considerable distress of mind; it was now requisite that I should come +to a speedy decision with respect to what I was to do; I had not many +alternatives, and, before I had retired to rest on the night of the +day in question, I had determined that I could do no better than accept +the first proposal of the Armenian, and translate under his superintendence +the Haik Esop into English.<br> +<br> +I reflected, for I made a virtue of necessity, that, after all, such +an employment would be an honest and honourable one; honest, inasmuch +as by engaging in it I should do harm to nobody; honourable, inasmuch +as it was a literary task, which not every one was capable of executing. +it was not every one of the booksellers’ writers of London who +was competent to translate the Haik Esop. I determined to accept +the offer of the Armenian.<br> +<br> +Once or twice the thought of what I might have to undergo in the translation +from certain peculiarities of the Armenian’s temper almost unsettled +me; but a mechanical diving of my hand into my pocket, and the feeling +of the solitary half-crown, confirmed me; after all, this was a life +of trial and tribulation, and I had read somewhere or other that there +was much merit in patience, so I determined to hold fast in my resolution +of accepting the offer of the Armenian.<br> +<br> +But all of a sudden I remembered that the Armenian appeared to have +altered his intentions towards me: he appeared no longer desirous that +I should render the Haik Esop into English for the benefit of the stock-jobbers +on Exchange, but rather that I should acquire the rudiments of doing +business in the Armenian fashion, and accumulate a fortune, which would +enable me to make a figure upon ‘Change with the best of the stock-jobbers. +‘Well,’ thought I, withdrawing my hand from my pocket, whither +it had again mechanically dived, ‘after all, what would the world, +what would this city, be without commerce? I believe the world, +and particularly this city, would cut a very poor figure without commerce; +and then there is something poetical in the idea of doing business after +the Armenian fashion, dealing with dark-faced Lascars and Rabbins of +the Sephardim. Yes, should the Armenian insist upon it, I will +accept a seat at the desk, opposite the Moldavian clerk. I do +not like the idea of cuffs similar to those the Armenian bestowed upon +the Moldavian clerk; whatever merit there may be in patience, I do not +think that my estimation of the merit of patience would be sufficient +to induce me to remain quietly sitting under the infliction of cuffs. +I think I should, in the event of his cuffing me, knock the Armenian +down. Well, I think I have heard it said somewhere, that a knock-down +blow is a great cementer of friendship; I think I have heard of two +people being better friends than ever after the one had received from +the other a knock-down blow.’<br> +<br> +That night I dreamed I had acquired a colossal fortune, some four hundred +thousand pounds, by the Armenian way of doing business, but suddenly +awoke in dreadful perplexity as to how I should dispose of it.<br> +<br> +About nine o’clock next morning I set off to the house of the +Armenian; I had never called upon him so early before, and certainly +never with a heart beating with so much eagerness; but the situation +of my affairs had become very critical, and I thought that I ought to +lose no time in informing the Armenian that I was at length perfectly +willing either to translate the Haik Esop under his superintendence, +or to accept a seat at the desk opposite to the Moldavian clerk, and +acquire the secrets of Armenian commerce. With a quick step I +entered the counting-room, where, notwithstanding the earliness of the +hour, I found the clerk, busied as usual at his desk.<br> +<br> +He had always appeared to me a singular being, this same Moldavian clerk. +A person of fewer words could scarcely be conceived: provided his master +were at home, he would, on my inquiring, nod his head; and, provided +he were not, he would invariably reply with the monosyllable No, delivered +in a strange guttural tone. On the present occasion, being full +of eagerness and impatience, I was about to pass by him to the apartment +above, without my usual inquiry, when he lifted his head from the ledger +in which he was writing, and, laying down his pen, motioned to me with +his forefinger, as if to arrest my progress; whereupon I stopped, and, +with a palpitating heart, demanded whether the master of the house was +at home. The Moldavian clerk replied with his usual guttural, +and, opening his desk, ensconced his head therein.<br> +<br> +‘It does not much matter,’ said I; ‘I suppose I shall +find him at home after ‘Change; it does not much matter, I can +return.’<br> +<br> +I was turning away with the intention of leaving the room; at this moment, +however, the head of the Moldavian clerk became visible, and I observed +a letter in his hand, which he had inserted in the desk at the same +time with his head; this he extended towards me, making at the same +time a sidelong motion with his head, as much as to say that it contained +something which interested me.<br> +<br> +I took the letter, and the Moldavian clerk forthwith resumed his occupation. +The back of the letter bore my name, written in Armenian characters; +with a trembling hand I broke the seal, and, unfolding the letter, I +beheld several lines also written in the letters of Mesroub, the Cadmus +of the Armenians.<br> +<br> +I stared at the lines, and at first could not make out a syllable of +their meaning; at last, however, by continued staring, I discovered +that, though the letters were Armenian, the words were English; in about +ten minutes I had contrived to decipher the sense of the letter; it +ran somewhat in this style:-<br> +<br> +<br> +‘MY DEAR FRIEND - The words which you uttered in our last conversation +have made a profound impression upon me; I have thought them over day +and night, and have come to the conclusion that it is my bounden duty +to attack the Persians. When these lines are delivered to you, +I shall be on the route to Ararat. A mercantile speculation will +be to the world the ostensible motive of my journey, and it is singular +enough that one which offers considerable prospect of advantage has +just presented itself on the confines of Persia. Think not, however, +that motives of lucre would have been sufficiently powerful to tempt +me to the East at the present moment. I may speculate, it is true, +but I should scarcely have undertaken the journey but for your pungent +words inciting me to attack the Persians. Doubt not that I will +attack them on the first opportunity. I thank you heartily for +putting me in mind of my duty. I have hitherto, to use your own +words, been too fond of money-getting, like all my countrymen. +I am much indebted to you; farewell! and may every prosperity await +you.’<br> +<br> +<br> +For some time after I had deciphered the epistle, I stood as if rooted +to the floor. I felt stunned - my last hope was gone; presently +a feeling arose in my mind - a feeling of self-reproach. Whom +had I to blame but myself for the departure of the Armenian? Would +he have ever thought of attacking the Persians had I not put the idea +into his head? he had told me in his epistle that he was indebted to +me for the idea. But for that, he might at the present moment +have been in London, increasing his fortune by his usual methods, and +I might be commencing under his auspices the translation of the Haik +Esop, with the promise, no doubt, of a considerable remuneration for +my trouble; or I might be taking a seat opposite the Moldavian clerk, +and imbibing the first rudiments of doing business after the Armenian +fashion, with the comfortable hope of realising, in a short time, a +fortune of three or four hundred thousand pounds; but the Armenian was +now gone, and farewell to the fine hopes I had founded upon him the +day before. What was I to do? I looked wildly around, till +my eyes rested on the Moldavian clerk, who was writing away in his ledger +with particular vehemence. Not knowing well what to do or to say, +I thought I might as well ask the Moldavian clerk when the Armenian +had departed, and when he thought that he would return. It is +true it mattered little to me when he departed, seeing that he was gone, +and it was evident that he would not be back soon; but I knew not what +to do, and in pure helplessness thought I might as well ask; so I went +up to the Moldavian clerk, and asked him when the Armenian had departed, +and whether he had been gone two days or three. Whereupon the +Moldavian clerk, looking up from his ledger, made certain signs, which +I could by no means understand. I stood astonished, but, presently +recovering myself, inquired when he considered it probable that the +master would return, and whether he thought it would be two months or +- my tongue faltered - two years; whereupon the Moldavian clerk made +more signs than before, and yet more unintelligible; as I persisted, +however, he flung down his pen, and, putting his thumb into his mouth, +moved it rapidly, causing the nail to sound against the lower jaw; whereupon +I saw that he was dumb, and hurried away, for I had always entertained +a horror of dumb people, having once heard my another say, when I was +a child, that dumb people were half demoniacs, or little better.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Kind of stupor - Peace of God - Divine hand - Farewell, child - The +fair - Massive edifice - Battered tars - Lost! lost! - Good-day, gentlemen.<br> +<br> +Leaving the house of the Armenian, I strolled about for some time; almost +mechanically my feet conducted me to London Bridge, to the booth in +which stood the stall of the old apple-woman; the sound of her voice +aroused me, as I sat in a kind of stupor on the stone bench beside her; +she was inquiring what was the matter with me.<br> +<br> +At first, I believe, I answered her very incoherently, for I observed +alarm beginning to depict itself upon her countenance. Rousing +myself, however, I in my turn put a few questions to her upon her present +condition and prospects. The old woman’s countenance cleared +up instantly; she informed me that she had never been more comfortable +in her life; that her trade, her <i>honest</i> trade - laying an emphasis +on the word honest - had increased of late wonderfully; that her health +was better, and, above all, that she felt no fear and horror ‘here,’ +laying her hand on her breast.<br> +<br> +On my asking her whether she still heard voices in the night, she told +me that she frequently did; but that the present were mild voices, sweet +voices, encouraging voices, very different from the former ones; that +a voice, only the night previous, had cried out about ‘the peace +of God,’ in particularly sweet accents; a sentence which she remembered +to have read in her early youth in the primer, but which she had clean +forgotten till the voice the night before brought it to her recollection.<br> +<br> +After a pause, the old woman said to me, ‘I believe, dear, that +it is the blessed book you brought me which has wrought this goodly +change. How glad I am now that I can read; but oh what a difference +between the book you brought to me and the one you took away! +I believe the one you brought is written by the finger of God, and the +other by - ’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t abuse the book,’ said I, ‘it is an excellent +book for those who can understand it; it was not exactly suited to you, +and perhaps it had been better that you had never read it - and yet, +who knows? Peradventure, if you had not read that book, you would +not have been fitted for the perusal of the one which you say is written +by the finger of God’; and, pressing my hand to my head, I fell +into a deep fit of musing. ‘What, after all,’ thought +I, ‘if there should be more order and system in the working of +the moral world than I have thought? Does there not seem in the +present instance to be something like the working of a Divine hand? +I could not conceive why this woman, better educated than her mother, +should have been, as she certainly was, a worse character than her mother. +Yet perhaps this woman may be better and happier than her mother ever +was; perhaps she is so already - perhaps this world is not a wild, lying +dream, as I have occasionally supposed it to be.’<br> +<br> +But the thought of my own situation did not permit me to abandon myself +much longer to these musings. I started up. ‘Where +are you going, child?’ said the woman, anxiously. ‘I +scarcely know,’ said I; ‘anywhere.’ ‘Then +stay here, child,’ said she; ‘I have much to say to you.’ +‘No,’ said I, ‘I shall be better moving about’; +and I was moving away, when it suddenly occurred to me that I might +never see this woman again; and turning round I offered her my hand, +and bade her good-bye. ‘Farewell, child,’ said the +old woman, ‘and God bless you!’ I then moved along +the bridge until I reached the Southwark side, and, still holding on +my course, my mind again became quickly abstracted from all surrounding +objects.<br> +<br> +At length I found myself in a street or road, with terraces on either +side, and seemingly of interminable length, leading, as it would appear, +to the south-east. I was walking at a great rate - there were +likewise a great number of people, also walking at a great rate; also +carts and carriages driving at a great rate; and all - men, carts, and +carriages - going in the selfsame direction, namely to the south-east. +I stopped for a moment and deliberated whether or not I should proceed. +What business had I in that direction? I could not say that I +had any particular business in that direction, but what could I do were +I to turn back? only walk about well-known streets; and, if I must walk, +why not continue in the direction in which I was to see whither the +road and its terraces led? I was ere in a <i>terra incognita</i>, +and an unknown place had always some interest for me; moreover, I had +a desire to know whither all this crowd was going, and for what purpose. +I thought they could not be going far, as crowds seldom go far, especially +at such a rate; so I walked on more lustily than before, passing group +after group of the crowd, and almost vying in speed with some of the +carriages, especially the hackney-coaches; and, by dint of walking at +this rate, the terraces and houses becoming somewhat less frequent as +I advanced, I reached in about three-quarters of an hour a kind of low +dingy town, in the neighbourhood of the river; the streets were swarming +with people, and I concluded, from the number of wild-beast shows, caravans, +gingerbread stalls, and the like, that a fair was being held. +Now, as I had always been partial to fairs, I felt glad that I had fallen +in with the crowd which had conducted me to the present one, and, casting +away as much as I was able all gloomy thoughts, I did my best to enter +into the diversions of the fair; staring at the wonderful representations +of animals on canvas hung up before the shows of wild beasts, which, +by the bye, are frequently found much more worthy of admiration than +the real beasts themselves; listening to the jokes of the merry-andrews +from the platforms in front of the temporary theatres, or admiring the +splendid tinsel dresses of the performers who thronged the stages in +the intervals of the entertainments; and in this manner, occasionally +gazing and occasionally listening, I passed through the town till I +came in front of a large edifice looking full upon the majestic bosom +of the Thames.<br> +<br> +It was a massive stone edifice, built in an antique style, and black +with age, with a broad esplanade between it and the river, on which, +mixed with a few people from the fair, I observed moving about a great +many individuals in quaint dresses of blue, with strange three-cornered +hats on their heads; most of them were mutilated; this had a wooden +leg - this wanted an arm; some had but one eye; and as I gazed upon +the edifice, and the singular-looking individuals who moved before it, +I guessed where I was. ‘I am at - ’ said I; ‘these +individuals are battered tars of Old England, and this edifice, once +the favourite abode of Glorious Elizabeth, is the refuge which a grateful +country has allotted to them. Here they can rest their weary bodies; +at their ease talk over the actions in which they have been injured; +and, with the tear of enthusiasm flowing from their eyes, boast how +they have trod the deck of fame with Rodney, or Nelson, or others whose +names stand emblazoned in the naval annals of their country.’<br> +<br> +Turning to the right, I entered a park or wood consisting of enormous +trees, occupying the foot, sides, and top of a hill which rose behind +the town; there were multitudes of people among the trees, diverting +themselves in various ways. Coming to the top of the hill, I was +present’ y stopped by a lofty wall, along which I walked, till, +coming to a small gate, I passed through, and found myself on an extensive +green plain, on one side bounded in part by the wall of the park, and +on the others, in the distance, by extensive ranges of houses; to the +south-east was a lofty eminence, partially clothed with wood. +The plain exhibited an animated scene, a kind of continuation of the +fair below; there were multitudes of people upon it, many tents, and +shows; there was also horse-racing, and much noise and shouting, the +sun shining brightly overhead. After gazing at the horse-racing +for a little time, feeling myself somewhat tired, I went up to one of +the tents, and laid myself down on the grass. There was much noise +in the tent. ‘Who will stand me?’ said a voice with +a slight tendency to lisp. ‘Will you, my lord?’ +‘Yes,’ said another voice. Then there was a sound +as of a piece of money banging on a table. ‘Lost! lost! +lost!’ cried several voices; and then the banging down of the +money, and the ‘lost! lost! lost!’ were frequently repeated; +at last the second voice exclaimed, ‘I will try no more; you have +cheated me.’ ‘Never cheated any one in my life, my +lord - all fair - all chance. Them that finds, wins - them that +can’t finds, loses. Anyone else try? Who’ll +try? Will you, my lord?’ and then it appeared that some +other lord tried, for I heard more money flung down. Then again +the cry of ‘lost! lost!’ - then again the sound of money, +and so on. Once or twice, but not more, I heard ‘Won! won!’ +but the predominant cry was ‘Lost! lost!’ At last +there was a considerable hubbub, and the words ‘Cheat!’ +‘Rogue!’ and ‘You filched away the pea!’ were +used freely by more voices than one, to which the voice with the tendency +to lisp replied, ‘Never filched a pea in my life; would scorn +it. Always glad when folks wins; but, as those here don’t +appear to be civil, not to wish to play any more, I shall take myself +off with my table; so, good-day, gentlemen.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Singular table - No money - Out of employ - My bonnet - We of the thimble +- Good wages - Wisely resolved - Strangest way in the world - Fat gentleman +- Not such another - First edition - Not very easy - Won’t close +- Avella gorgio - Alarmed look.<br> +<br> +Presently a man emerged from the tent, bearing before him a rather singular +table; it appeared to be of white deal, was exceedingly small at the +top, and with very long legs. At a few yards from the entrance +he paused, and looked round, as if to decide on the direction which +he should take; presently, his eye glancing on me as I lay upon the +ground, he started, and appeared for a moment inclined to make off as +quick as possible, table and all. In a moment, however, he seemed +to recover assurance, and, coming up to the place where I was, the long +legs of the table projecting before him, he cried, ‘Glad to see +you here, my lord.’<br> +<br> +‘Thank you,’ said I, ‘it’s a fine day.’<br> +<br> +‘Very fine, my lord; will your lordship play? Them that +finds, wins - them that don’t finds, loses.’<br> +<br> +‘Play at what?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Only at the thimble and pea, my lord.’<br> +<br> +‘I never heard of such a game.’<br> +<br> +‘Didn’t you? Well, I’ll soon teach you,’ +said he, placing the table down. ‘All you have to do is +to put a sovereign down on my table, and to find the pea, which I put +under one of my thimbles. If you find it, - and it is easy enough +to find it, - I give you a sovereign besides your own: for them that +finds, wins.’<br> +<br> +‘And them that don’t finds, loses,’ said I; ‘no, +I don’t wish to play.’<br> +<br> +‘Why not, my lord?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, in the first place, I have no money.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, you have no money, that of course alters the case. +If you have no money, you can’t play. Well, I suppose I +must be seeing after my customers,’ said he, glancing over the +plain.<br> +<br> +‘Good-day,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Good-day,’ said the man slowly, but without moving, and +as if in reflection. After a moment or two, looking at me inquiringly, +he added, ‘Out of employ?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘out of employ.’<br> +<br> +The man measured me with his eye as I lay on the ground. At length +he said, ‘May I speak a word or two to you, my lord?’<br> +<br> +‘As many as you please,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Then just come a little out of hearing, a little farther on the +grass, if you please, my lord.’<br> +<br> +‘Why do you call me my lord?’ said I, as I arose and followed +him.<br> +<br> +‘We of the thimble always calls our customers lords,’ said +the man; ‘but I won’t call you such a foolish name any more; +come along.’<br> +<br> +The man walked along the plain till he came to the side of a dry pit, +when, looking round to see that no one was nigh, he laid his table on +the grass, and, sitting down with his legs over the side of the pit, +he motioned me to do the same. ‘So you are in want of employ?’ +said he, after I had sat down beside him.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘I am very much in want of employ.’<br> +<br> +‘I think I can find you some.’<br> +<br> +‘What kind?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Why,’ said the man, ‘I think you would do to be my +bonnet.’<br> +<br> +‘Bonnet!’ said I, ‘what is that?’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t you know? However, no wonder, as you had never +heard of the thimble and pea game, but I will tell you. We of +the game are very much exposed; folks when they have lost their money, +as those who play with us mostly do, sometimes uses rough language, +calls us cheats, and sometimes knocks our hats over our eyes; and what’s +more, with a kick under our table, cause the top deals to fly off; this +is the third table I have used this day, the other two being broken +by uncivil customers: so we of the game generally like to have gentlemen +go about with us to take our part, and encourage us, though pretending +to know nothing about us; for example, when the customer says, “I’m +cheated,” the bonnet must say, “No, you ain’t, it +is all right”; or, when my hat is knocked over my eyes, the bonnet +must square, and say, “I never saw the man before in all my life, +but I won’t see him ill-used”; and so, when they kicks at +the table, the bonnet must say, “I won’t see the table ill-used, +such a nice table, too; besides, I want to play myself”; and then +I would say to the bonnet, “Thank you, my lord, them that finds, +wins”; and then the bonnet plays, and I lets the bonnet win.’<br> +<br> +‘In a word,’ said I, ‘the bonnet means the man who +covers you, even as the real bonnet covers the head.’<br> +<br> +‘I just so,’ said the man; ‘I see you are awake, and +would soon make a first-rate bonnet.’<br> +<br> +‘Bonnet,’ said I, musingly; ‘bonnet; it is metaphorical.’<br> +<br> +‘Is it?’ said the man.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘like the cant words - ’<br> +<br> +‘Bonnet is cant,’ said the man; ‘we of the thimble, +as well as all cly-fakers and the like, understand cant, as, of course, +must every bonnet; so, if you are employed by me, you had better learn +it as soon as you can, that we may discourse together without being +understood by every one. Besides covering his principal, a bonnet +must have his eyes about him, for the trade of the pea, though a strictly +honest one, is not altogether lawful; so it is the duty of the bonnet, +if he sees the constable coming, to say, The gorgio’s welling.’<br> +<br> +‘That is not cant,’ said I, ‘that is the language +of the Rommany Chals.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you know those people?’ said the man.<br> +<br> +‘Perfectly,’ said I, ‘and their language too.’<br> +<br> +‘I wish I did,’ said the man; ‘I would give ten pounds +and more to know the language of the Rommany Chals. There’s +some of it in the language of the pea and thimble; how it came there +I don’t know, but so it is. I wish I knew it, but it is +difficult. You’ll make a capital bonnet; shall we close?’<br> +<br> +‘What would the wages be?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘Why, to a first-rate bonnet, as I think you would prove, I could +afford to give from forty to fifty shillings a week.’<br> +<br> +‘Is it possible?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Good wages, ain’t they?’ said the man.<br> +<br> +‘First-rate,’ said I; ‘bonneting is more profitable +than reviewing.’<br> +<br> +‘Anan?’ said the man.<br> +<br> +‘Or translating; I don’t think the Armenian would have paid +me at that rate for translating his Esop.’<br> +<br> +‘Who is he?’ said the man.<br> +<br> +‘Esop?’<br> +<br> +‘No, I know what that is, Esop’s cant for a hunchback; but +t’other?’<br> +<br> +‘You should know,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Never saw the man in all my life.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, you have,’ said I, ‘and felt him too; don’t +you remember the individual from whom you took the pocket-book?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, that was he; well, the less said about that matter the better; +I have left off that trade, and taken to this, which is a much better. +Between ourselves, I am not sorry that I did not carry off that pocket-book; +if I had, it might have encouraged me in the trade, in which had I remained, +I might have been lagged, sent abroad, as I had been already imprisoned; +so I determined to leave it off at all hazards, though I was hard up, +not having a penny in the world.’<br> +<br> +‘And wisely resolved,’ said I; ‘it was a bad and dangerous +trade, I wonder you should ever have embraced it.’<br> +<br> +‘It is all very well talking,’ said the man, ‘but +there is a reason for everything; I am the son of a Jewess, by a military +officer’ - and then the man told me his story. I shall not +repeat the man’s story, it was a poor one, a vile one; at last +he observed, ‘So that affair which you know of determined me to +leave the filching trade, and take up with a more honest and safe one; +so at last I thought of the pea and thimble, but I wanted funds, especially +to pay for lessons at the hands of a master, for I knew little about +it.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘how did you get over that difficulty?’<br> +<br> +‘Why,’ said the man, ‘I thought I should never have +got over it. What funds could I raise? I had nothing to +sell; the few clothes I had I wanted, for we of the thimble must always +appear decent, or nobody would come near us. I was at my wits’ +ends; at last I got over my difficulty in the strangest way in the world.’<br> +<br> +‘What was that?’<br> +<br> +‘By an old thing which I had picked up some time before - a book.’<br> +<br> +‘A book?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Yes, which I had taken out of your lordship’s pocket one +day as you were walking the streets in a great hurry. I thought +it was a pocket-book at first, full of bank-notes, perhaps,’ continued +he, laughing. ‘It was well for me, however, that it was +not, for I should have soon spent the notes; as it was, I had flung +the old thing down with an oath, as soon as I brought it home. +When I was so hard up, however, after the affair with that friend of +yours, I took it up one day, and thought I might make something by it +to support myself a day with. Chance or something else led me +into a grand shop; there was a man there who seemed to be the master, +talking to a jolly, portly old gentleman, who seemed to be a country +squire. Well, I went up to the first, and offered it for sale; +he took the book, opened it at the title-page, and then all of a sudden +his eyes glistened, and he showed it to the fat, jolly gentleman, and +his eyes glistened too, and I heard him say “How singular!” +and then the two talked together in a speech I didn’t understand +- I rather thought it was French, at any rate it wasn’t cant; +and presently the first asked me what I would take for the book. +Now I am not altogether a fool, nor am I blind, and I had narrowly marked +all that passed, and it came into my head that now was the time for +making a man of myself, at any rate I could lose nothing by a little +confidence; so I looked the man boldly in the face, and said, “I +will have five guineas for that book, there ain’t such another +in the whole world.” “Nonsense,” said the first +man, “there are plenty of them, there have been nearly fifty editions, +to my knowledge; I will give you five shillings.” “No,” +said I, “I’ll not take it, for I don’t like to be +cheated, so give me my book again”; and I attempted to take it +away from the fat gentleman’s hand. “Stop,” +said the younger man; “are you sure that you won’t take +less?” “Not a farthing,” said I; which was not +altogether true, but I said so. “Well,” said the fat +gentleman, “I will give you what you ask”; and sure enough +he presently gave me the money; so I made a bow, and was leaving the +shop, when it came into my head that there was something odd in all +this, and, as I had the money in my pocket, I turned back, and, making +another bow, said, “May I be so bold as to ask why you gave me +all this money for that ‘ere dirty book? When I came into +the shop, I should have been glad to get a shilling for it; but I saw +you wanted it, and asked five guineas.” Then they looked +at one another, and smiled, and shrugged up their shoulders. Then +the first man, looking at me, said, “Friend, you have been a little +too sharp for us; however, we can afford to forgive you, as my friend +here has long been in quest of this particular book; there are plenty +of editions, as I told you, and a common copy is not worth five shillings; +but this is a first edition, and a copy of the first edition is worth +its weight in gold.”’<br> +<br> +‘So, after all, they outwitted you,’ I observed.<br> +<br> +‘Clearly,’ said the man; ‘I might have got double +the price, had I known the value; but I don’t care, much good +may it do them, it has done me plenty. By means of it I have got +into an honest, respectable trade, in which there’s little danger +and plenty of profit, and got out of one which would have got me lagged, +sooner or later.’<br> +<br> +‘But,’ said I, ‘you ought to remember that the thing +was not yours; you took it from me, who had been requested by a poor +old apple-woman to exchange it for a Bible.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said the man, ‘did she ever get her Bible?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘she got her Bible.’<br> +<br> +‘Then she has no cause to complain; and, as for you, chance or +something else has sent you to me, that I may make you reasonable amends +for any loss you may have had. Here am I ready to make you my +bonnet, with forty or fifty shillings a week, which you say yourself +are capital wages.’<br> +<br> +‘I find no fault with the wages,’ said I, ‘but I don’t +like the employ.’<br> +<br> +‘Not like bonneting,’ said the man; ‘ah, I see, you +would like to be principal; well, a time may come - those long white +fingers of yours would just serve for the business.’<br> +<br> +‘Is it a difficult one?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘Why, it is not very easy: two things are needful - natural talent, +and constant practice; but I’ll show you a point or two connected +with the game’; and, placing his table between his knees as he +sat over the side of the pit, he produced three thimbles, and a small +brown pellet, something resembling a pea. He moved the thimble +and pellet about, now placing it to all appearance under one, and now +under another; ‘Under which is it now?’ he said at last. +‘Under that,’ said I, pointing to the lowermost of the thimbles, +which, as they stood, formed a kind of triangle. ‘No,’ +said he, ‘it is not, but lift it up’; and, when I lifted +up the thimble, the pellet, in truth, was not under it. ‘It +was under none of them,’ said he, ‘it was pressed by my +little finger against my palm’; and then he showed me how he did +the trick, and asked me if the game was not a funny one; and, on my +answering in the affirmative, he said, ‘I am glad you like it; +come along and let us win some money.’<br> +<br> +Thereupon, getting up, he placed the table before him, and was moving +away; observing, however, that I did not stir, he asked me what I was +staying for. ‘Merely for my own pleasure,’ said I; +‘I like sitting here very well.’ ‘Then you won’t +close?’ said the man. ‘By no means,’ I replied; +‘your proposal does not suit me.’ ‘You may be +principal in time,’ said the man. ‘That makes no difference,’ +said I; and, sitting with my legs over the pit, I forthwith began to +decline an Armenian noun. ‘That ain’t cant,’ +said the man; ‘no, nor gypsy either. Well, if you won’t +close, another will, I can’t lose any more time,’ and forthwith +he departed.<br> +<br> +And after I had declined four Armenian nouns, of different declensions, +I rose from the side of the pit, and wandered about amongst the various +groups of people scattered over the green. Presently I came to +where the man of the thimbles was standing, with the table before him, +and many people about him. ‘Them who finds, wins, and them +who can’t find, loses,’ he cried. Various individuals +tried to find the pellet, but all were unsuccessful, till at last considerable +dissatisfaction was expressed, and the terms rogue and cheat were lavished +upon him. ‘Never cheated anybody in all my life,’ +he cried; and, observing me at hand, ‘didn’t I play fair, +my lord?’ he inquired. But I made no answer. Presently +some more played, and he permitted one or two to win, and the eagerness +to play with him became greater. After I had looked on for some +time, I was moving away: just then I perceived a short, thick personage, +with a staff in his hand, advancing in a great hurry; whereupon, with +a sudden impulse, I exclaimed -<br> +<br> +<br> +Shoon thimble-engro;<br> +Avella gorgio.<br> +<br> +<br> +The man, who was in the midst of his pea-and-thimble process, no sooner +heard the last word of the distich than he turned an alarmed look in +the direction of where I stood; then, glancing around, and perceiving +the constable, he slipped forthwith his pellet and thimbles into his +pocket, and, lifting up his table, he cried to the people about him, +‘Make way!’ and with a motion with his head to me, as if +to follow him, he darted off with a swiftness which the short, pursy +constable could by no means rival; and whither he went, or what became +of him, I know not, inasmuch as I turned away in another direction.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LIV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Mr. Petulengro - Rommany Rye - Lil-writers - One’s own horn - +Lawfully-earnt money - The wooded hill - A great favourite - The shop +window - Much wanted.<br> +<br> +And, as I wandered along the green, I drew near to a place where several +men, with a cask beside them, sat carousing in the neighbourhood of +a small tent. ‘Here he comes,’ said one of them, as +I advanced, and standing up he raised his voice and sang:-<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Here the Gypsy gemman see,<br> +With his Roman jib and his rome and dree -<br> +Rome and dree, rum and dry<br> +Rally round the Rommany Rye.’<br> +<br> +<br> +It was Mr. Petulengro, who was here diverting himself with several of +his comrades; they all received me with considerable frankness. +‘Sit down, brother,’ said Mr. Petulengro, ‘and take +a cup of good ale.’<br> +<br> +I sat down. ‘Your health, gentlemen,’ said I, as I +took the cup which Mr. Petulengro handed to me.<br> +<br> +‘Aukko tu pios adrey Rommanis. Here is your health in Rommany, +brother,’ said Mr. Petulengro; who, having refilled the cup, now +emptied it at a draught.<br> +<br> +‘Your health in Rommany, brother,’ said Tawno Chikno, to +whom the cup came next.<br> +<br> +‘The Rommany Rye,’ said a third.<br> +<br> +‘The Gypsy gentleman,’ exclaimed a fourth, drinking.<br> +<br> +And then they all sang in chorus:-<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Here the Gypsy gemman see,<br> +With his Roman jib and his rome and dree -<br> +Rome and dree, rum and dry<br> +Rally round the Rommany Rye.’<br> +<br> +<br> +‘And now, brother,’ said Mr. Petulengro, ‘seeing that +you have drunk and been drunken, you will perhaps tell us where you +have been, and what about?’<br> +<br> +‘I have been in the Big City,’ said I, ‘writing lils.’<br> +<br> +‘How much money have you got in your pocket, brother?’ said +Mr. Petulengro.<br> +<br> +‘Eighteenpence,’ said I; ‘all I have in the world.’<br> +<br> +‘I have been in the Big City, too,’ said Mr. Petulengro; +‘but I have not written lils - I have fought in the ring - I have +fifty pounds in my pocket - I have much more in the world. Brother, +there is considerable difference between us.<br> +<br> +‘I would rather be the lil-writer, after all,’ said the +tall, handsome, black man; ‘indeed, I would wish for nothing better.’<br> +<br> +‘Why so?’ said Mr. Petulengro.<br> +<br> +‘Because they have so much to say for themselves,’ said +the black man, ‘even when dead and gone. When they are laid +in the churchyard, it is their own fault if people ain’t talking +of them. Who will know, after I am dead, or bitchadey pawdel, +that I was once the beauty of the world, or that you Jasper were - ’<br> +<br> +‘The best man in England of my inches. That’s true, +Tawno - however, here’s our brother will perhaps let the world +know something about us.’<br> +<br> +‘Not he,’ said the other, with a sigh; ‘he’ll +have quite enough to do in writing his own lils, and telling the world +how handsome and clever he was; and who can blame him? Not I. +If I could write lils, every word should be about myself and my own +tacho Rommanis - my own lawful wedded wife, which is the same thing. +I tell you what, brother, I once heard a wise man say in Brummagem, +that “there is nothing like blowing one’s own horn,” +which I conceive to be much the same thing as writing one’s own +lil.’<br> +<br> +After a little more conversation, Mr. Petulengro arose, and motioned +me to follow him. ‘Only eighteenpence in the world, brother?’ +said he, as we walked together.<br> +<br> +‘Nothing more, I assure you. How came you to ask me how +much money I had?’<br> +<br> +‘Because there was something in your look, brother, something +very much resembling that which a person showeth who does not carry +much money in his pocket. I was looking at my own face this morning +in my wife’s looking-glass - I did not look as you do, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘I believe your sole motive for inquiring,’ said I, ‘was +to have an opportunity of venting a foolish boast, and to let me know +that you were in possession of fifty pounds.’<br> +<br> +‘What is the use of having money unless you let people know you +have it?’ said Mr. Petulengro. ‘It is not every one +can read faces, brother; and, unless you knew I had money, how could +you ask me to lend you any?’<br> +<br> +‘I am not going to ask you to lend me any.’<br> +<br> +‘Then you may have it without asking; as I said before, I have +fifty pounds, all lawfully-earnt money, got by fighting in the ring +- I will lend you that, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘You are very kind,’ said I; ‘but I will not take +it.’<br> +<br> +‘Then the half of it?’<br> +<br> +‘Nor the half of it; but it is getting towards evening, I must +go back to the Great City.’<br> +<br> +‘And what will you do in the Boro Foros?’<br> +<br> +‘I know not,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Earn money?<br> +<br> +‘If I can.’<br> +<br> +‘And if you can’t?’<br> +<br> +‘Starve!’<br> +<br> +‘You look ill, brother,’ said Mr. Petulengro.<br> +<br> +‘I do not feel well; the Great City does not agree with me. +Should I be so fortunate as to earn some money, I would leave the Big +City, and take to the woods and fields.’<br> +<br> +‘You may do that, brother,’ said Mr. Petulengro, ‘whether +you have money or not. Our tents and horses are on the other side +of yonder wooded hill, come and stay with us; we shall all be glad of +your company, but more especially myself and my wife Pakomovna.’<br> +<br> +‘What hill is that?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +And then Mr. Petulengro told me the name of the hill. ‘We +shall stay on t’other side of the hill a fortnight,’ he +continued; ‘and, as you are fond of lil-writing, you may employ +yourself profitably whilst there. You can write the lil of him +whose dock gallops down that hill every night, even as the living man +was wont to do long ago.’<br> +<br> +‘Who was he?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘Jemmy Abershaw,’ said Mr. Petulengro; ‘one of those +whom we call Boro drom engroes, and the gorgios highway-men. I +once heard a rye say that the life of that man would fetch much money; +so come to the other side of the hill, and write the lil in the tent +of Jasper and his wife Pakomovna.’<br> +<br> +At first I felt inclined to accept the invitation of Mr. Petulengro; +a little consideration, however, determined me to decline it. +I had always been on excellent terms with Mr. Petulengro, but I reflected +that people might be excellent friends when they met occasionally in +the street, or on the heath, or in the wood; but that these very people +when living together in a house, to say nothing of a tent, might quarrel. +I reflected, moreover, that Mr. Petulengro had a wife. I had always, +it is true, been a great favourite with Mrs. Petulengro, who had frequently +been loud in her commendation of the young rye, as she called me, and +his turn of conversation; but this was at a time when I stood in need +of nothing, lived under my parents’ roof, and only visited at +the tents to divert and to be diverted. The times were altered, +and I was by no means certain that Mrs. Petulengro, when she should +discover that I was in need both of shelter and subsistence, might not +alter her opinion both with respect to the individual and what he said +- stigmatising my conversation as saucy discourse, and myself as a scurvy +companion; and that she might bring over her husband to her own way +of thinking, provided, indeed, he should need any conducting. +I therefore, though without declaring my reasons, declined the offer +of Mr. Petulengro, and presently, after shaking him by the hand, bent +again my course towards the Great City.<br> +<br> +I crossed the river at a bridge considerably above that hight of London; +for, not being acquainted with the way, I missed the turning which should +have brought me to the latter. Suddenly I found myself in a street +of which I had some recollection, and mechanically stopped before the +window of a shop at which various publications were exposed; it was +that of the bookseller to whom I had last applied in the hope of selling +my ballads or Ab Gwilym, and who had given me hopes that, in the event +of my writing a decent novel, or a tale, he would prove a purchaser. +As I stood listlessly looking at the window, and the publications which +it contained, I observed a paper affixed to the glass by wafers with +something written upon it. I drew yet nearer for the purpose of +inspecting it; the writing was in a fair round hand - ‘A Novel +or Tale is much wanted,’ was what was written.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Bread and water - Pair play - Fashion - Colonel B- - Joseph Sell - The +kindly glow - Easiest manner imaginable.<br> +<br> +‘I must do something,’ said I, as I sat that night in my +lonely apartment, with some bread and a pitcher of water before me.<br> +<br> +Thereupon taking some of the bread, and eating it, I considered what +I was to do. ‘I have no idea what I am to do,’ said +I, as I stretched my hand towards the pitcher, ‘unless (and here +I took a considerable draught) I write a tale or a novel - That bookseller,’ +I continued, speaking to myself, ‘is certainly much in need of +a tale or a novel, otherwise he would not advertise for one. Suppose +I write one, I appear to have no other chance of extricating myself +from my present difficulties; surely it was Fate that conducted me to +his window.<br> +<br> +‘I will do it,’ said I, as I struck my hand against the +table; ‘I will do it.’ Suddenly a heavy cloud of despondency +came over me. Could I do it? Had I the imagination requisite +to write a tale or a novel? ‘Yes, yes,’ said I, as +I struck my hand again against the table, ‘I can manage it; give +me fair play, and I can accomplish anything.’<br> +<br> +But should I have fair play? I must have something to maintain +myself with whilst I wrote my tale, and I had but eighteenpence in the +world. Would that maintain me whilst I wrote my tale? Yes, +I thought it would, provided I ate bread, which did not cost much, and +drank water, which cost nothing; it was poor diet, it was true, but +better men than myself had written on bread and water; had not the big +man told me so? or something to that effect, months before?<br> +<br> +It was true there was my lodging to pay for; but up to the present time +I owed nothing, and perhaps, by the time that the people of the house +asked me for money, I should have written a tale or a novel, which would +bring me in money; I had paper, pens, and ink, and, let me not forget +them, I had candles in my closet, all paid for, to light me during my +night work. Enough, I would go doggedly to work upon my tale or +novel.<br> +<br> +But what was the tale or novel to be about? Was it to be a tale +of fashionable life, about Sir Harry Somebody, and the Countess something? +But I knew nothing about fashionable people, and cared less; therefore +how should I attempt to describe fashionable life? What should the tale +consist of? The life and adventures of some one. Good - +but of whom? Did not Mr. Petulengro mention one Jemmy Abershaw? +Yes. Did he not tell me that the life and adventures of Jemmy +Abershaw would bring in much money to the writer? Yes, but I knew +nothing of that worthy. I heard, it is true, from Mr. Petulengro, +that when alive he committed robberies on the hill, on the side of which +Mr. Petulengro had pitched his tents, and that his ghost still haunted +the hill at midnight; but those were scant materials out of which to +write the man’s life. It is probable indeed, that Mr. Petulengro +would be able to supply me with further materials if I should apply +to him, but I was in a hurry, and could not afford the time which it +would be necessary to spend in passing to and from Mr. Petulengro, and +consulting him. Moreover, my pride revolted at the idea of being +beholden to Mr. Petulengro for the materials of the history. No, +I would not write the history of Abershaw. Whose then - Harry +Simms? Alas, the life of Harry Simms had been already much better +written by himself than I could hope to do it; and, after all, Harry +Simms, like Jemmy Abershaw, was merely a robber. Both, though +bold and extraordinary men, were merely highwaymen. I questioned +whether I could compose a tale likely to excite any particular interest +out of the exploits of a mere robber. I want a character for my +hero, thought I, something higher than a mere robber; some one like +- like Colonel B-. By the way, why should I not write the life +and adventures of Colonel B-, of Londonderry in Ireland?<br> +<br> +A truly singular man was this same Colonel B-, of Londonderry in Ireland; +a personage of most strange and incredible feats and daring, who had +been a partizan soldier, a bravo - who, assisted by certain discontented +troopers, nearly succeeded in stealing the crown and regalia from the +Tower of London; who attempted to hang the Duke of Ormond at Tyburn; +and whose strange, eventful career did not terminate even with his life, +his dead body, on the circulation of an unfounded report that he did +not come to his death by fair means, having been exhumed by the mob +of his native place, where he had retired to die, and carried in the +coffin through the streets.<br> +<br> +Of his life I had inserted an account in the <i>Newgate Lives</i> <i>and +Trials</i>; it was bare and meagre, and written in the stiff, awkward +style of the seventeenth century; it had, however, strongly captivated +my imagination, and I now thought that out of it something better could +be made; that, if I added to the adventures, and purified the style, +I might fashion out of it a very decent tale or novel. On a sudden, +however, the proverb of mending old garments with new cloth occurred +to me. ‘I am afraid,’ said I, ‘any new adventures +which I can invent will not fadge well with the old tale; one will but +spoil the other.’ I had better have nothing to do with Colonel +B-, thought I, but boldly and independently sit down and write the life +of Joseph Sell.<br> +<br> +This Joseph Sell, dear reader, was a fictitious personage who had just +come into my head. I had never even heard of the name, but just +at that moment it happened to come into my head; I would write an entirely +fictitious narrative, called the <i>Life and Adventures of Joseph Sell</i>, +the great traveller.<br> +<br> +I had better begin at once, thought I; and removing the bread and the +jug, which latter was now empty, I seized pen and paper, and forthwith +essayed to write the life of Joseph Sell, but soon discovered that it +is much easier to resolve upon a thing than to achieve it, or even to +commence it; for the life of me I did not know how to begin, and, after +trying in vain to write a line, I thought it would be as well to go +to bed, and defer my projected undertaking till the morrow.<br> +<br> +So I went to bed, but not to sleep. During the greater part of +the night I lay awake, musing upon the work which I had determined to +execute. For a long time my brain was dry and unproductive; I +could form no plan which appeared feasible. At length I felt within +my brain a kindly glow; it was the commencement of inspiration; in a +few minutes I had formed my plan; I then began to imagine the scenes +and the incidents. Scenes and incidents flitted before my mind’s +eye so plentifully, that I knew not how to dispose of them; I was in +a regular embarrassment. At length I got out of the difficulty +in the easiest manner imaginable, namely, by consigning to the depths +of oblivion all the feebler and less stimulant scenes and incidents, +and retaining the better and more impressive ones. Before morning +I had sketched the whole work on the tablets of my mind, and then resigned +myself to sleep in the pleasing conviction that the most difficult part +of my undertaking was achieved.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LVI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Considerably sobered - Power of writing - The tempter - Hungry talent +- Work concluded.<br> +<br> +Rather late in the morning I awoke; for a few minutes I lay still, perfectly +still; my imagination was considerably sobered; the scenes and situations +which had pleased me so much over night appeared to me in a far less +captivating guise that morning. I felt languid and almost hopeless +- the thought, however, of my situation soon roused me - I must make +an effort to improve the posture of my affairs; there was no time to +be lost; so I sprang out of bed, breakfasted on bread and water, and +then sat down doggedly to write the life of Joseph Sell.<br> +<br> +It was a great thing to have formed my plan, and to have arranged the +scenes in my head, as I had done on the preceding night. The chief +thing requisite at present was the mere mechanical act of committing +them to paper. This I did not find at first so easy as I could +wish - I wanted mechanical skill; but I persevered, and before evening +I had written ten pages. I partook of some bread and water; and +before I went to bed that night, I had completed fifteen pages of my +life of Joseph Sell.<br> +<br> +The next day I resumed my task - I found my power of writing considerably +increased; my pen hurried rapidly over the paper - my brain was in a +wonderfully teeming state; many scenes and visions which I had not thought +of before were evolved, and, as fast as evolved, written down; they +seemed to be more pat to my purpose, and more natural to my history, +than many others which I had imagined before, and which I made now give +place to these newer creations: by about midnight I had added thirty +fresh pages to my <i>Life</i> <i>and Adventures of Joseph Sell.<br> +<br> +</i>The third day arose - it was dark and dreary out of doors, and I +passed it drearily enough within; my brain appeared to have lost much +of its former glow, and my pen much of its power; I, however, toiled +on, but at midnight had only added seven pages to my history of Joseph +Sell.<br> +<br> +On the fourth day the sun shone brightly - I arose, and, having breakfasted +as usual, I fell to work. My brain was this day wonderfully prolific, +and my pen never before or since glided so rapidly over the paper; towards +night I began to feel strangely about the back part of my head, and +my whole system was extraordinarily affected. I likewise occasionally +saw double - a tempter now seemed to be at work within me.<br> +<br> +‘You had better leave off now for a short space,’ said the +tempter, ‘and go out and drink a pint of beer; you have still +one shilling left - if you go on at this rate, you will go mad - go +out and spend sixpence, you can afford it, more than half your work +is done.’ I was about to obey the suggestion of the tempter, +when the idea struck me that, if I did not complete the work whilst +the fit was on me, I should never complete it; so I held on. I am almost +afraid to state how many pages I wrote that day of the life of Joseph +Sell.<br> +<br> + From this time I proceeded in a somewhat more leisurely manner; +but, as I drew nearer and nearer to the completion of my task, dreadful +fears and despondencies came over me. - It will be too late, thought +I; by the time I have finished the work, the bookseller will have been +supplied with a tale or a novel. Is it probable that, in a town +like this, where talent is so abundant - hungry talent too - a bookseller +can advertise for a tale or a novel, without being supplied with half +a dozen in twenty-four hours? I may as well fling down my pen +- I am writing to no purpose. And these thoughts came over my +mind so often, that at last, in utter despair, I flung down the pen. +Whereupon the tempter within me said - ‘And, now you have flung +down the pen, you may as well fling yourself out of the window; what +remains for you to do?’ Why, to take it up again, thought +I to myself, for I did not like the latter suggestion at all - and then +forthwith I resumed the pen, and wrote with greater vigour than before, +from about six o’clock in the evening until I could hardly see, +when I rested for a while, when the tempter within me again said, or +appeared to say - ‘All you have been writing is stuff, it will +never do - a drug - a mere drug’; and methought these last words +were uttered in the gruff tones of the big publisher. ‘A +thing merely to be sneezed at,’ a voice like that of Taggart added; +and then I seemed to hear a sternutation, - as I probably did, for, +recovering from a kind of swoon, I found myself shivering with cold. +The next day I brought my work to a conclusion.<br> +<br> +But the task of revision still remained; for an hour or two I shrank +from it, and remained gazing stupidly at the pile of paper which I had +written over. I was all but exhausted, and I dreaded, on inspecting +the sheets, to find them full of absurdities which I had paid no regard +to in the furor of composition. But the task, however trying to +my nerves, must be got over; at last, in a kind of desperation, I entered +upon it. It was far from an easy one; there were, however, fewer +errors and absurdities than I had anticipated. About twelve o’clock +at night I had got over the task of revision. ‘To-morrow +for the bookseller,’ said I, as my head sank on the pillow. +‘Oh me!’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LVII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Nervous look - The bookseller’s wife - The last stake - Terms +- God forbid! - Will you come to tea? - A light heart.<br> +<br> +On arriving at the bookseller’s shop, I cast a nervous look at +the window, for the purpose of observing whether the paper had been +removed or not. To my great delight the paper was in its place; +with a beating heart I entered, there was nobody in the shop; as I stood +at the counter, however, deliberating whether or not I should call out, +the door of what seemed to be a back-parlour opened, and out came a +well-dressed lady-like female, of about thirty, with a good-looking +and intelligent countenance. ‘What is your business, young +man?’ said she to me, after I had made her a polite bow. +‘I wish to speak to the gentleman of the house,’ said I. +‘My husband is not within at present,’ she replied; ‘what +is your business?’ ‘I have merely brought something +to show him,’ said I, ‘but I will call again.’ +‘If you are the young gentleman who has been here before,’ +said the lady, ‘with poems and ballads, as, indeed, I know you +are,’ she added, smiling, ‘for I have seen you through the +glass door, I am afraid it will be useless; that is,’ she added +with another smile, ‘if you bring us nothing else.’ +‘I have not brought you poems and ballads now,’ said I, +‘but something widely different; I saw your advertisement for +a tale or a novel, and have written something which I think will suit; +and here it is,’ I added, showing the roll of paper which I held +in my hand. ‘Well,’ said the bookseller’s wife, +‘you may leave it, though I cannot promise you much chance of +its being accepted. My husband has already had several offered +to him; however, you may leave it; give it me. Are you afraid +to intrust it to me?’ she demanded somewhat hastily, observing +that I hesitated. ‘Excuse me,’ said I, ‘but +it is all I have to depend upon in the world; I am chiefly apprehensive +that it will not be read.’ ‘On that point I can reassure +you,’ said the good lady, smiling, and there was now something +sweet in her smile. ‘I give you my word that it shall be +read; come again to-morrow morning at eleven, when, if not approved, +it shall be returned to you.’<br> +<br> +I returned to my lodging, and forthwith betook myself to bed, notwithstanding +the earliness of the hour. I felt tolerably tranquil; I had now +cast my last stake, and was prepared to abide by the result. Whatever +that result might be, I could have nothing to reproach myself with; +I had strained all the energies which nature had given me in order to +rescue myself from the difficulties which surrounded me. I presently +sank into a sleep, which endured during the remainder of the day, and +the whole of the succeeding night. I awoke about nine on the morrow, +and spent my last threepence on a breakfast somewhat more luxurious +than the immediately preceding ones, for one penny of the sum was expended +on the purchase of milk.<br> +<br> +At the appointed hour I repaired to the house of the bookseller; the +bookseller was in his shop. ‘Ah,’ said he, as soon +as I entered, ‘I am glad to see you.’ There was an +unwonted heartiness in the bookseller’s tones, an unwonted benignity +in his face. ‘So,’ said he, after a pause, ‘you +have taken my advice, written a book of adventure; nothing like taking +the advice, young man, of your superiors in age. Well, I think +your book will do, and so does my wife, for whose judgment I have a +great regard; as well I may, as she is the daughter of a first-rate +novelist, deceased. I think I shall venture on sending your book +to the press.’ ‘But,’ said I, ‘we have +not yet agreed upon terms.’ ‘Terms, terms,’ +said the bookseller; ‘ahem! well, there is nothing like coming +to terms at once. I will print the book, and give you half the +profit when the edition is sold.’ ‘That will not do,’ +said I; ‘I intend shortly to leave London: I must have something +at once.’ ‘Ah, I see,’ said the bookseller, +‘in distress; frequently the case with authors, especially young +ones. Well, I don’t care if I purchase it of you, but you +must be moderate; the public are very fastidious, and the speculation +may prove a losing one after all. Let me see, will five - hem +- ’ he stopped. I looked the bookseller in the face; there +was something peculiar in it. Suddenly it appeared to me as if +the voice of him of the thimble sounded in my ear, ‘Now is your +time, ask enough, never such another chance of establishing yourself; +respectable trade, pea and thimble.’ ‘Well,’ +said I at last, ‘I have no objection to take the offer which you +were about to make, though I really think five-and-twenty guineas to +be scarcely enough, everything considered.’ ‘Five-and-twenty +guineas!’ said the bookseller; ‘are you - what was I going +to say - I never meant to offer half as much - I mean a quarter; I was +going to say five guineas - I mean pounds; I will, however, make it +up guineas.’ ‘That will not do,’ said I; ‘but, +as I find we shall not deal, return me my manuscript, that I may carry +it to some one else.’ The bookseller looked blank. +‘Dear me,’ said he, ‘I should never have supposed +that you would have made any objection to such an offer; I am quite +sure that you would have been glad to take five pounds for either of +the two huge manuscripts of songs and ballads that you brought me on +a former occasion.’ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘if +you will engage to publish either of those two manuscripts, you shall +have the present one for five pounds.’ ‘God forbid +that I should make any such bargain!’ said the bookseller; ‘I +would publish neither on any account; but, with respect to this last +book, I have really an inclination to print it, both for your sake and +mine; suppose we say ten pounds.’ ‘No,’ said +I, ‘ten pounds will not do; pray restore me my manuscript.’ +‘Stay,’ said the bookseller, ‘my wife is in the next +room, I will go and consult her.’ Thereupon he went into +his back room, where I heard him conversing with his wife in a low tone; +in about ten minutes he returned. ‘Young gentleman,’ +said he, ‘perhaps you will take tea with us this evening, when +we will talk further over the matter.’<br> +<br> +That evening I went and took tea with the bookseller and his wife, both +of whom, particularly the latter, overwhelmed me with civility. +It was not long before I learned that the work had been already sent +to the press, and was intended to stand at the head of a series of entertaining +narratives, from which my friends promised themselves considerable profit. +The subject of terms was again brought forward. I stood firm to +my first demand for a long time; when, however, the bookseller’s +wife complimented me on my production in the highest terms, and said +that she discovered therein the germs of genius, which she made no doubt +would some day prove ornamental to my native land, I consented to drop +my demand to twenty pounds, stipulating, however, that I should not +be troubled with the correction of the work.<br> +<br> +Before I departed, I received the twenty pounds, and departed with a +light heart to my lodgings.<br> +<br> +Reader, amidst the difficulties and dangers of this life, should you +ever be tempted to despair, call to mind these latter chapters of the +life of Lavengro. There are few positions, however difficult, +from which dogged resolution and perseverance may not liberate you.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LVIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Indisposition - A resolution - Poor equivalents - The piece of gold +- Flashing eyes - How beautiful - Bon jour, Monsieur.<br> +<br> +I had long ago determined to leave London as soon as the means should +be in my power, and, now that they were, I determined to leave the Great +City; yet I felt some reluctance to go. I would fain have pursued +the career of original authorship which had just opened itself to me, +and have written other tales of adventure. The bookseller had +given me encouragement enough to do so; he had assured me that he should +be always happy to deal with me for an article (that was the word) similar +to the one I had brought him, provided my terms were moderate; and the +bookseller’s wife, by her complimentary language, had given me +yet more encouragement. But for some months past I had been far +from well, and my original indisposition, brought on partly by the peculiar +atmosphere of the Big City, partly by anxiety of mind, had been much +increased by the exertions which I had been compelled to make during +the last few days. I felt that, were I to remain where I was, +I should die, or become a confirmed valetudinarian. I would go +forth into the country, travelling on foot, and, by exercise and inhaling +pure air, endeavour to recover my health, leaving my subsequent movements +to be determined by Providence.<br> +<br> +But whither should I bend my course? Once or twice I thought of +walking home to the old town, stay some time with my mother and my brother, +and enjoy the pleasant walks in the neighbourhood; but, though I wished +very much to see my mother and my brother, and felt much disposed to +enjoy the said pleasant walks, the old town was not exactly the place +to which I wished to go at this present juncture. I was afraid +that people would ask, Where are your Northern Ballads? Where +are your alliterative translations from Ab Gwilym - of which you were +always talking, and with which you promised to astonish the world? +Now, in the event of such interrogations, what could I answer? +It is true I had compiled <i>Newgate Lives and Trials</i>, and had written +the life of Joseph Sell, but I was afraid that the people of the old +town would scarcely consider these as equivalents for the Northern Ballads +and the songs of Ab Gwilym. I would go forth and wander in any +direction but that of the old town.<br> +<br> +But how one’s sensibility on any particular point diminishes with +time; at present I enter the old town perfectly indifferent as to what +the people may be thinking on the subject of the songs and ballads. +With respect to the people themselves, whether, like my sensibility, +their curiosity has altogether evaporated, whether, which is at least +equally probable, they never entertained any, one thing is certain, +that never in a single instance have they troubled me with any remarks +on the subject of the songs and ballads.<br> +<br> +As it was my intention to travel on foot, with a bundle and a stick, +I despatched my trunk containing some few clothes and books to the old +town. My preparations were soon made; in about three days I was +in readiness to start.<br> +<br> +Before departing, however, I bethought me of my old friend the apple-woman +of London Bridge. Apprehensive that she might be labouring under +the difficulties of poverty, I sent her a piece of gold by the hands +of a young maiden in the house in which I lived. The latter punctually +executed her commission, but brought me back the piece of gold. +The old woman would not take it; she did not want it, she said. +‘Tell the poor thin lad,’ she added, ‘to keep it for +himself, he wants it more than I.’<br> +<br> +Rather late one afternoon I departed from my lodging, with my stick +in one hand and a small bundle in the other, shaping my course to the +south-west: when I first arrived, somewhat more than a year before, +I had entered the city by the north-east. As I was not going home, +I determined to take my departure in the direction the very opposite +to home.<br> +<br> +Just as I was about to cross the street called the Haymarket, at the +lower part, a cabriolet, drawn by a magnificent animal, came dashing +along at a furious rate; it stopped close by the curb-stone where I +was, a sudden pull of the reins nearly bringing the spirited animal +upon its haunches. The Jehu who had accomplished this feat was +Francis Ardry. A small beautiful female, with flashing eyes, dressed +in the extremity of fashion, sat beside him.<br> +<br> +‘Holloa, friend,’ said Francis Ardry, ‘whither bound?’<br> +<br> +‘I do not know,’ said I; ‘all I can say is, that I +am about to leave London.’<br> +<br> +‘And the means?’ said Francis Ardry.<br> +<br> +‘I have them,’ said I, with a cheerful smile.<br> +<br> +‘Qui est celui-ci?’ demanded the small female, impatiently.<br> +<br> +‘C’est - mon ami le plus intime; so you were about to leave +London, without telling me a word,’ said Francis Ardry, somewhat +angrily.<br> +<br> +‘I intended to have written to you,’ said I: ‘what +a splendid mare that is.’<br> +<br> +‘Is she not?’ said Francis Ardry, who was holding in the +mare with difficulty; ‘she cost a hundred guineas.’<br> +<br> +‘Qu’est ce qu’il dit?’ demanded his companion.<br> +<br> +‘Il dit que le jument est bien beau.’<br> +<br> +‘Allons, mon ami, il est tard,’ said the beauty, with a +scornful toss of her head; ‘allons!’<br> +<br> +‘Encore un moment,’ said Francis Ardry; ‘and when +shall I see you again?’<br> +<br> +‘I scarcely know,’ I replied: ‘I never saw a more +splendid turn out.’<br> +<br> +‘Qu’est ce qu’il dit?’ I said the lady again.<br> +<br> +‘Il dit que tout l’équipage est en assez bon goût.’<br> +<br> +‘Allons, c’est un ours,’ said the lady; ‘le +cheval même en a peur,’ added she, as the mare reared up +on high.<br> +<br> +‘Can you find nothing else to admire but the mare and the equipage?’ +said Francis Ardry, reproachfully, after he had with some difficulty +brought the mare to order.<br> +<br> +Lifting my hand, in which I held my stick, I took off my hat. +‘How beautiful!’ said I, looking the lady full in the face.<br> +<br> +‘Comment?’ said the lady, inquiringly.<br> +<br> +‘Il dit que vous êtes belle comme un ange,’ said Francis +Ardry, emphatically.<br> +<br> +‘Mais, à la bonne heure! arrêtez, mon ami,’ +said the lady to Francis Ardry, who was about to drive off; ‘je +voudrais bien causer un moment avec lui; arrêtez, il est délicieux. +- Est-ce bien ainsi que vous traitez vos amis?’ said she passionately, +as Francis Ardry lifted up his whip. ‘Bon jour, Monsieur, +bon jour,’ said she, thrusting her head from the side and looking +back, as Francis Ardry drove off at the rate of thirteen miles an hour.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LIX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The milestone - The meditation - Want to get up? - The off-hand leader +- Sixteen shillings - The near-hand wheeler - All right.<br> +<br> +In about two hours I had cleared the Great City, and got beyond the +suburban villages, or rather towns, in the direction in which I was +travelling; I was in a broad and excellent road, leading I knew not +whither. I now slackened my pace, which had hitherto been great. +Presently, coming to a milestone on which was graven nine miles, I rested +against it, and looking round towards the vast city, which had long +ceased to be visible, I fell into a train of meditation.<br> +<br> +I thought of all my ways and doings since the day of my first arrival +in that vast city - I had worked and toiled, and, though I had accomplished +nothing at all commensurate with the hopes which I had entertained previous +to my arrival, I had achieved my own living, preserved my independence, +and become indebted to no one. I was now quitting it, poor in +purse, it is true, but not wholly empty; rather ailing it may be, but +not broken in health; and, with hope within my bosom, had I not cause +upon the whole to be thankful? Perhaps there were some who, arriving +at the same time under not more favourable circumstances, had accomplished +much more, and whose future was far more hopeful - Good! But there +might be others who, in spite of all their efforts, had been either +trodden down in the press, never more to be heard of, or were quitting +that mighty town broken in purse, broken in health, and, oh! with not +one dear hope to cheer them. Had I not, upon the whole, abundant +cause to be grateful? Truly, yes!<br> +<br> +My meditation over, I left the milestone and proceeded on my way in +the same direction as before until the night began to close in. +I had always been a good pedestrian; but now, whether owing to indisposition +or to not having for some time past been much in the habit of taking +such lengthy walks, I began to feel not a little weary. Just as +I was thinking of putting up for the night at the next inn or public-house +I should arrive at, I heard what sounded like a coach coming up rapidly +behind me. Induced, perhaps, by the weariness which I felt, I +stopped and looked wistfully in the direction of the sound; presently +up came a coach, seemingly a mail, drawn by four bounding horses - there +was no one upon it but the coachman and the guard; when nearly parallel +with me it stopped. ‘Want to get up?’ sounded a voice, +in the true coachman-like tone - half querulous, half authoritative. +I hesitated; I was tired, it is true, but I had left London bound on +a pedestrian excursion, and I did not much like the idea of having recourse +to a coach after accomplishing so very inconsiderable a distance. +‘Come, we can’t be staying here all night,’ said the +voice, more sharply than before. ‘I can ride a little way, +and get down whenever I like,’ thought I; and springing forward +I clambered up the coach, and was going to sit down upon the box, next +the coachman. ‘No, no,’ said the coachman, who was +a man about thirty, with a hooked nose and red face, dressed in a fashionably-cut +greatcoat, with a fashionable black castor on his head. ‘No, +no, keep behind - the box ain’t for the like of you,’ said +he, as he drove off; ‘the box is for lords, or gentlemen at least.’ +I made no answer. ‘D- that off-hand leader,’ said +the coachman, as the right-hand front horse made a desperate start at +something he saw in the road; and, half rising, he with great dexterity +hit with his long whip the off-hand leader a cut on the off cheek. +‘These seem to be fine horses,’ said I. The coachman +made no answer. ‘Nearly thoroughbred,’ I continued; +the coachman drew his breath, with a kind of hissing sound, through +his teeth. ‘Come, young fellow, none of your chaff. +Don’t you think, because you ride on my mail, I’m going +to talk to you about ’orses. I talk to nobody about ‘orses +except lords.’ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘I have +been called a lord in my time.’ ‘It must have been +by a thimble-rigger, then,’ said the coachman, bending back, and +half turning his face round with a broad leer. ‘You have +hit the mark wonderfully,’ said I. ‘You coachmen, +whatever else you may be, are certainly no fools.’ ‘We +ain’t, ain’t we?’ said the coachman. ‘There +you are right; and, to show you that you are, I’ll now trouble +you for your fare. If you have been amongst the thimble-riggers +you must be tolerably well cleared out. Where are you going? - +to - ? I think I have seen you there. The fare is sixteen +shillings. Come, tip us the blunt; them that has no money can’t +ride on my mail.’<br> +<br> +Sixteen shillings was a large sum, and to pay it would make a considerable +inroad on my slender finances; I thought, at first, that I would say +I did not want to go so far; but then the fellow would ask at once where +I wanted to go, and I was ashamed to acknowledge my utter ignorance +of the road. I determined, therefore, to pay the fare, with a +tacit determination not to mount a coach in future without knowing whither +I was going. So I paid the man the money, who, turning round, +shouted to the guard - ‘All right, Jem; got fare to - ’; +and forthwith whipped on his horses, especially the off hand leader, +for whom he seemed to entertain a particular spite, to greater speed +than before - the horses flew.<br> +<br> +A young moon gave a feeble light, partially illuminating a line of road +which, appearing by no means interesting, I the less regretted having +paid my money for the privilege of being hurried along it in the flying +vehicle. We frequently changed horses; and at last my friend the +coachman was replaced by another, the very image of himself - hawk nose, +red face, with narrow-rimmed hat and fashionable benjamin. After +he had driven about fifty yards, the new coachman fell to whipping one +of the horses. ‘D- this near-hand wheeler,’ said he, +‘the brute has got a corn.’ ‘Whipping him won’t +cure him of his corn,’ said I. ‘Who told you to speak?’ +said the driver, with an oath; ‘mind your own business; ’tisn’t +from the like of you I am to learn to drive ‘orses.’ +Presently I fell into a broken kind of slumber. In an hour or +two I was aroused by a rough voice - ‘Got to -, young man; get +down if you please.’ I opened my eyes - there was a dim +and indistinct light, like that which precedes dawn; the coach was standing +still in something like a street; just below me stood the guard. +‘Do you mean to get down,’ said he, ‘or will you keep +us here till morning? other fares want to get up.’ Scarcely +knowing what I did, I took my bundle and stick and descended, whilst +two people mounted. ‘All right, John,’ said the guard +to the coachman, springing up behind; whereupon off whisked the coach, +one or two individuals who were standing by disappeared, and I was left +alone.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The still hour - A thrill - The wondrous circle - The shepherd - Heaps +and barrows - What do you mean? - Milk of the plains - Hengist spared +it - No presents.<br> +<br> +After standing still a minute or two, considering what I should do, +I moved down what appeared to be the street of a small straggling town; +presently I passed by a church, which rose indistinctly on my right +hand; anon there was the rustling of foliage and the rushing of waters. +I reached a bridge, beneath which a small stream was running in the +direction of the south. I stopped and leaned over the parapet, +for I have always loved to look upon streams, especially at the still +hours. ‘What stream is this, I wonder?’ said I, as +I looked down from the parapet into the water, which whirled and gurgled +below.<br> +<br> +Leaving the bridge, I ascended a gentle acclivity, and presently reached +what appeared to be a tract of moory undulating ground. It was +now tolerably light, but there was a mist or haze abroad which prevented +my seeing objects with much precision. I felt chill in the damp +air of the early morn, and walked rapidly forward. In about half +an hour I arrived where the road divided into two, at an angle or tongue +of dark green sward. ‘To the right or the left?’ said +I, and forthwith took, without knowing why, the left-hand road, along +which I proceeded about a hundred yards, when, in the midst of the tongue +of sward formed by the two roads, collaterally with myself, I perceived +what I at first conceived to be a small grove of blighted trunks of +oaks, barked and gray. I stood still for a moment, and then, turning +off the road, advanced slowly towards it over the sward; as I drew nearer, +I perceived that the objects which had attracted my curiosity, and which +formed a kind of circle, were not trees, but immense upright stones. +A thrill pervaded my system; just before me were two, the mightiest +of the whole, tall as the stems of proud oaks, supporting on their tops +a huge transverse stone, and forming a wonderful doorway. I knew +now where I was, and, laying down my stick and bundle, and taking off +my hat, I advanced slowly, and cast myself - it was folly, perhaps, +but I could not help what I did - cast myself, with my face on the dewy +earth, in the middle of the portal of giants, beneath the transverse +stone.<br> +<br> +The spirit of Stonehenge was strong upon me!<br> +<br> +And after I had remained with my face on the ground for some time, I +arose, placed my hat on my head, and, taking up my stick and bundle, +wandered round the wondrous circle, examining each individual stone, +from the greatest to the least; and then, entering by the great door, +seated myself upon an immense broad stone, one side of which was supported +by several small ones, and the other slanted upon the earth; and there, +in deep meditation, I sat for an hour or two, till the sun shone in +my face above the tall stones of the eastern side.<br> +<br> +And as I still sat there, I heard the noise of bells, and presently +a large number of sheep came browsing past the circle of stones; two +or three entered, and grazed upon what they could find, and soon a man +also entered the circle at the northern side.<br> +<br> +‘Early here, sir,’ said the man, who was tall, and dressed +in a dark green slop, and had all the appearance of a shepherd; ‘a +traveller, I suppose?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘I am a traveller; are these sheep +yours?’<br> +<br> +‘They are, sir; that is, they are my master’s. A strange +place this, sir,’ said he, looking at the stones; ‘ever +here before?’<br> +<br> +‘Never in body, frequently in mind.’<br> +<br> +‘Heard of the stones, I suppose; no wonder - all the people of +the plain talk of them.’<br> +<br> +‘What do the people of the plain say of them?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, they say - How did they ever come here?’<br> +<br> +‘Do they not suppose them to have been brought?’<br> +<br> +‘Who should have brought them?’<br> +<br> +‘I have read that they were brought by many thousand men.’<br> +<br> +‘Where from?’<br> +<br> +‘Ireland.’<br> +<br> +‘How did they bring them?’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t know.’<br> +<br> +‘And what did they bring them for?’<br> +<br> +‘To form a temple, perhaps.’<br> +<br> +‘What is that?’<br> +<br> +‘A place to worship God in.’<br> +<br> +‘A strange place to worship God in.’<br> +<br> +‘Why?’<br> +<br> +‘It has no roof.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, it has.’<br> +<br> +‘Where?’ said the man, looking up.<br> +<br> +‘What do you see above you?’<br> +<br> +‘The sky.’<br> +<br> +‘Well?’<br> +<br> +‘Well!’<br> +<br> +‘Have you anything to say?’<br> +<br> +‘How did these stones come here?’<br> +<br> +‘Are there other stones like these on the plains?’ said +I.<br> +<br> +‘None; and yet there are plenty of strange things on these downs.’<br> +<br> +‘What are they?’<br> +<br> +‘Strange heaps, and barrows, and great walls of earth built on +the tops of hills.’<br> +<br> +‘Do the people of the plain wonder how they came there?’<br> +<br> +‘They do not.’<br> +<br> +‘Why?’<br> +<br> +‘They were raised by hands.’<br> +<br> +‘And these stones?’<br> +<br> +‘How did they ever come here?’<br> +<br> +‘I wonder whether they are here?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘These stones?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘So sure as the world,’ said the man; ‘and, as the +world, they will stand as long.’<br> +<br> +‘I wonder whether there is a world.’<br> +<br> +‘What do you mean?’<br> +<br> +‘An earth, and sea, moon and stars, sheep and men.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you doubt it?’<br> +<br> +‘Sometimes.’<br> +<br> +‘I never heard it doubted before.’<br> +<br> +‘It is impossible there should be a world.’<br> +<br> +‘It ain’t possible there shouldn’t be a world.’<br> +<br> +‘Just so.’ At this moment a fine ewe, attended by +a lamb, rushed into the circle and fondled the knees of the shepherd. +‘I suppose you would not care to have some milk,’ said the +man.<br> +<br> +‘Why do you suppose so?’<br> +<br> +‘Because, so be there be no sheep, no milk, you know; and what +there ben’t is not worth having.’<br> +<br> +‘You could not have argued better,’ said I; ‘that +is, supposing you have argued; with respect to the milk you may do as +you please.’<br> +<br> +‘Be still, Nanny,’ said the man; and producing a tin vessel +from his scrip, he milked the ewe into it. ‘Here is milk +of the plains, master,’ said the man, as he handed the vessel +to me.<br> +<br> +‘Where are those barrows and great walls of earth you were speaking +of?’ said I, after I had drunk some of the milk; ‘are there +any near where we are?’<br> +<br> +‘Not within many miles; the nearest is yonder away,’ said +the shepherd, pointing to the south-east. ‘It’s a +grand place, that, but not like this; quite different, and from it you +have a sight of the finest spire in the world.’<br> +<br> +‘I must go to it,’ said I, and I drank the remainder of +the milk; ‘yonder, you say.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, yonder; but you cannot get to it in that direction, the +river lies between.’<br> +<br> +‘What river?’<br> +<br> +‘The Avon.’<br> +<br> +‘Avon is British,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said the man, ‘we are all British here.’<br> +<br> +‘No, we are not,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘What are we then?’<br> +<br> +‘English.’<br> +<br> +‘Ain’t they one?’<br> +<br> +‘No.’<br> +<br> +‘Who were the British?’<br> +<br> +‘The men who are supposed to have worshipped God in this place, +and who raised these stones.’<br> +<br> +‘Where are they now?’<br> +<br> +‘Our forefathers slaughtered them, spilled their blood all about, +especially in this neighbourhood, destroyed their pleasant places, and +left not, to use their own words, one stone upon another.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, they did,’ said the shepherd, looking aloft at the +transverse stone.<br> +<br> +‘And it is well for them they did; whenever that stone, which +English hands never raised, is by English hands thrown down, woe, woe, +woe to the English race; spare it, English! Hengist spared it! - Here +is sixpence.’<br> +<br> +‘I won’t have it,’ said the man.<br> +<br> +‘Why not?’<br> +<br> +‘You talk so prettily about these stones; you seem to know all +about them.’<br> +<br> +‘I never receive presents; with respect to the stones, I say with +yourself, How did they ever come here?’<br> +<br> +‘How did they ever come here?’ said the shepherd.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The river - Arid downs - A prospect.<br> +<br> +Leaving the shepherd, I bent my way in the direction pointed out by +him as that in which the most remarkable of the strange remains of which +he had spoken lay. I proceeded rapidly, making my way over the +downs covered with coarse grass and fern; with respect to the river +of which he had spoken, I reflected that, either by wading or swimming, +I could easily transfer myself and what I bore to the opposite side. +On arriving at its banks, I found it a beautiful stream, but shallow, +with here and there a deep place where the water ran dark and still.<br> +<br> +Always fond of the pure lymph, I undressed, and plunged into one of +these gulfs, from which I emerged, my whole frame in a glow, and tingling +with delicious sensations. After conveying my clothes and scanty +baggage to the farther side, I dressed, and then with hurried steps +bent my course in the direction of some lofty ground; I at length found +myself on a high-road, leading over wide and arid downs; following the +road for some miles without seeing anything remarkable, I supposed at +length that I had taken the wrong path, and wended on slowly and disconsolately +for some time, till, having nearly surmounted a steep hill, I knew at +once, from certain appearances, that I was near the object of my search. +Turning to the right near the brow of the hill, I proceeded along a +path which brought me to a causeway leading over a deep ravine, and +connecting the hill with another which had once formed part of it, for +the ravine was evidently the work of art. I passed over the causeway, +and found myself in a kind of gateway which admitted me into a square +space of many acres, surrounded on all sides by mounds or ramparts of +earth. Though I had never been in such a place before, I knew +that I stood within the precincts of what had been a Roman encampment, +and one probably of the largest size, for many thousand warriors might +have found room to perform their evolutions in that space, in which +corn was now growing, the green ears waving in the morning wind.<br> +<br> +After I had gazed about the space for a time, standing in the gateway +formed by the mounds, I clambered up the mound to the left hand, and +on the top of that mound I found myself at a great altitude; beneath, +at the distance of a mile, was a fair old city, situated amongst verdant +meadows, watered with streams, and from the heart of that old city, +from amidst mighty trees, I beheld towering to the sky the finest spire +in the world.<br> +<br> +And after I had looked from the Roman rampart for a long time, I hurried +away, and, retracing my steps along the cause-way, regained the road, +and, passing over the brow of the hill, descended to the city of the +spire.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The hostelry - Life uncertain - Open countenance - The grand point - +Thank you, master - A hard mother - Poor dear! - Considerable odds - +The better country - English fashion - Landlord-looking person.<br> +<br> +And in the old city I remained two days, passing my time as I best could +- inspecting the curiosities of the place, eating and drinking when +I felt so disposed, which I frequently did, the digestive organs having +assumed a tone to which for many months they had been strangers - enjoying +at night balmy sleep in a large bed in a dusky room, at the end of a +corridor, in a certain hostelry in which I had taken up my quarters +- receiving from the people of the hostelry such civility and condescension +as people who travel on foot with bundle and stick, but who nevertheless +are perceived to be not altogether destitute of coin, are in the habit +of receiving. On the third day, on a fine sunny afternoon, I departed +from the city of the spire.<br> +<br> +As I was passing through one of the suburbs, I saw, all on a sudden, +a respectable-looking female fall down in a fit; several persons hastened +to her assistance. ‘She is dead,’ said one. +‘No, she is not,’ said another. ‘I am afraid +she is,’ said a third. ‘Life is very uncertain,’ +said a fourth. ‘It is Mrs. -,’ said a fifth; ‘let +us carry her to her own house.’ Not being able to render +any assistance, I left the poor female in the hands of her townsfolk, +and proceeded on my way. I had chosen a road in the direction +of the north-west, it led over downs where corn was growing, but where +neither tree nor hedge was to be seen; two or three hours’ walking +brought me to a beautiful valley, abounding with trees of various kinds, +with a delightful village at its farthest extremity; passing through +it, I ascended a lofty acclivity, on the top of which I sat down on +a bank, and, taking off my hat, permitted a breeze, which swept coolly +and refreshingly over the downs, to dry my hair, dripping from the effects +of exercise and the heat of the day.<br> +<br> +And as I sat there, gazing now at the blue heavens, now at the downs +before me, a man came along the road in the direction in which I had +hitherto been proceeding: just opposite to me he stopped, and, looking +at me, cried - ‘Am I right for London, master?’<br> +<br> +He was dressed like a sailor, and appeared to be between twenty-five +and thirty years of age - he had an open manly countenance, and there +was a bold and fearless expression in his eye.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, in reply to his question; ‘this is +one of the ways to London. Do you come from far?’<br> +<br> +‘From -,’ said the man, naming a well-known seaport.<br> +<br> +‘Is this the direct road to London from that place?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said the man; ‘but I had to visit two or three +other places on certain commissions I was intrusted with; amongst others +to -, where I had to take a small sum of money. I am rather tired, +master; and, if you please, I will sit down beside you.’<br> +<br> +‘You have as much right to sit down here as I have,’ said +I; ‘the road is free for every one; as for sitting down beside +me, you have the look of an honest man, and I have no objection to your +company.’<br> +<br> +‘Why, as for being honest, master,’ said the man, laughing +and sitting down by me, ‘I haven’t much to say - many is +the wild thing I have done when I was younger; however, what is done, +is done. To learn, one must live, master; and I have lived long +enough to learn the grand point of wisdom.’<br> +<br> +‘What is that?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘That honesty is the best policy, master.’<br> +<br> +‘You appear to be a sailor,’ said I, looking at his dress.<br> +<br> +‘I was not bred a sailor,’ said the man, ‘though, +when my foot is on the salt water, I can play the part - and play it +well too. I am now from a long voyage.’<br> +<br> +‘From America?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Farther than that,’ said the man.<br> +<br> +‘Have you any objection to tell me?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘From New South Wales,’ said the man, looking me full in +the face.<br> +<br> +‘Dear me,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Why do you say “Dear me”?’ said the man.<br> +<br> +‘It is a very long way off,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Was that your reason for saying so?’ said the man.<br> +<br> +‘Not exactly,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said the man, with something of a bitter smile; ‘it +was something else that made you say so; you were thinking of the convicts.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘what then - you are no convict.’<br> +<br> +‘How do you know?’<br> +<br> +‘You do not look like one.’<br> +<br> +‘Thank you, master,’ said the man cheerfully; ‘and, +to a certain extent, you are right - bygones are bygones - I am no longer +what I was, nor ever will be again; the truth, however, is the truth +- a convict I have been - a convict at Sydney Cove.’<br> +<br> +‘And you have served out the period for which you were sentenced, +and are now returned?’<br> +<br> +‘As to serving out my sentence,’ replied the man, ‘I +can’t say that I did; I was sentenced for fourteen years, and +I was in Sydney Cove little more than half that time. The truth +is that I did the Government a service. There was a conspiracy +amongst some of the convicts to murder and destroy - I overheard and +informed the Government; mind one thing, however, I was not concerned +in it; those who got it up were no comrades of mine, but a bloody gang +of villains. Well, the Government, in consideration of the service +I had done them, remitted the remainder of my sentence; and some kind +gentlemen interested themselves about me, gave me good books and good +advice, and, being satisfied with my conduct, procured me employ in +an exploring expedition, by which I earned money. In fact, the +being sent to Sydney was the best thing that ever happened to me in +all my life.’<br> +<br> +‘And you have now returned to your native country. Longing +to see home brought you from New South Wales.’<br> +<br> +‘There you are mistaken,’ said the man. ‘Wish +to see England again would never have brought me so far; for, to tell +you the truth, master, England was a hard mother to me, as she has proved +to many. No, a wish to see another kind of mother - a poor old +woman, whose son I am - has brought me back.’<br> +<br> +‘You have a mother, then?’ said I. ‘Does she +reside in London?’<br> +<br> +‘She used to live in London,’ said the man; ‘but I +am afraid she is long since dead.’<br> +<br> +‘How did she support herself?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Support herself! with difficulty enough; she used to keep a small +stall on London Bridge, where she sold fruit; I am afraid she is dead, +and that she died perhaps in misery. She was a poor sinful creature; +but I loved her, and she loved me. I came all the way back merely +for the chance of seeing her.’<br> +<br> +‘Did you ever write to her,’ said I, ‘or cause others +to write to her?’<br> +<br> +‘I wrote to her myself,’ said the man, ‘about two +years ago; but I never received an answer. I learned to write +very tolerably over there, by the assistance of the good people I spoke +of. As for reading, I could do that very well before I went - +my poor mother taught me to read, out of a book that she was very fond +of; a strange book it was, I remember. Poor dear! - what I would +give only to know that she is alive.’<br> +<br> +‘Life is very uncertain,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘That is true,’ said the man, with a sigh.<br> +<br> +‘We are here one moment, and gone the next,’ I continued. +‘As I passed through the streets of a neighbouring town, I saw +a respectable woman drop down, and people said she was dead. Who +knows but that she too had a son coming to see her from a distance, +at that very time?’<br> +<br> +‘Who knows, indeed?’ said the man. ‘Ah, I am +afraid my mother is dead. Well, God’s will be done.’<br> +<br> +‘However,’ said I, ‘I should not wonder at your finding +your mother alive.’<br> +<br> +‘You wouldn’t?’ said the man, looking at me wistfully.<br> +<br> +‘I should not wonder at all,’ said I; ‘indeed, something +within me seems to tell me you will; I should not much mind betting +five shillings to fivepence that you will see your mother within a week. +Now, friend, five shillings to fivepence - ’<br> +<br> +‘Is very considerable odds,’ said the man, rubbing his hands; +‘sure you must have good reason to hope, when you are willing +to give such odds.’<br> +<br> +‘After all,’ said I, ‘it not unfrequently happens +that those who lay the long odds lose. Let us hope, however. +What do you mean to do in the event of finding your mother alive?’<br> +<br> +‘I scarcely know,’ said the man; ‘I have frequently +thought that if I found my mother alive I would attempt to persuade +her to accompany me to the country which I have left - it is a better +country for a man - that is, a free man - to live in than this; however, +let me first find my mother - if I could only find my mother - ’<br> +<br> +‘Farewell,’ said I, rising. ‘Go your way, and +God go with you - I will go mine.’ ‘I have but one +thing to ask you,’ said the man. ‘What is that?’ +I inquired. ‘That you would drink with me before we part +- you have done me so much good.’ ‘How should we drink?’ +said I; ‘we are on the top of a hill where there is nothing to +drink.’ ‘But there is a village below,’ said +the man; ‘do let us drink before we part.’ ‘I +have been through that village already,’ said I, ‘and I +do not like turning back.’ ‘Ah,’ said the man, +sorrowfully, ‘you will not drink with me because I told you I +was - ’ ‘You are quite mistaken,’ said I, ‘I +would as soon drink with a convict as with a judge. I am by no +means certain that, under the same circumstances, the judge would be +one whit better than the convict. Come along! I will go +back to oblige you. I have an odd sixpence in my pocket, which +I will change that I may drink with you.’ So we went down +the hill together to the village through which I had already passed, +where, finding a public-house, we drank together in true English fashion, +after which we parted, the sailor-looking man going his way and I mine.<br> +<br> +After walking about a dozen miles, I came to a town, where I rested +for the night. The next morning I set out again in the direction +of the north-west. I continued journeying for four days, my daily +journeys varying from twenty to twenty-five miles. During this +time nothing occurred to me worthy of any especial notice. The +weather was brilliant, and I rapidly improved both in strength and spirits. +On the fifth day, about two o’clock, I arrived at a small town. +Feeling hungry, I entered a decent-looking inn - within a kind of bar +I saw a huge, fat, landlord-looking person, with a very pretty, smartly-dressed +maiden. Addressing myself to the fat man, ‘House!’ +said I, ‘house! Can I have dinner, house?’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Primitive habits - Rosy-faced damsel - A pleasant moment - Suit of black +- The furtive glance - The mighty round - Degenerate times - The newspaper +- The evil chance - I congratulate you.<br> +<br> +‘Young gentleman,’ said the huge fat landlord, ‘you +are come at the right time; dinner will be taken up in a few minutes, +and such a dinner,’ he continued, rubbing his hands, ‘as +you will not see every day in these times.’<br> +<br> +‘I am hot and dusty,’ said I, ‘and should wish to +cool my hands and face.’<br> +<br> +‘Jenny!’ said the huge landlord, with the utmost gravity, +‘show the gentleman into number seven, that he may wash his hands +and face.’<br> +<br> +‘By no means,’ said I, ‘I am a person of primitive +habits, and there is nothing like the pump in weather like this.’<br> +<br> +‘Jenny,’ said the landlord, with the same gravity as before, +‘go with the young gentleman to the pump in the back kitchen, +and take a clean towel along with you.’<br> +<br> +Thereupon the rosy-faced clean-looking damsel went to a drawer, and +producing a large, thick, but snowy white towel, she nodded to me to +follow her; whereupon I followed Jenny through a long passage into the +back kitchen.<br> +<br> +And at the end of the back kitchen there stood a pump; and going to +it I placed my hands beneath the spout, and said, ‘Pump, Jenny’; +and Jenny incontinently, without laying down the towel, pumped with +one hand, and I washed and cooled my heated hands.<br> +<br> +And, when my hands were washed and cooled, I took off my neckcloth, +and, unbuttoning my shirt collar, I placed my head beneath the spout +of the pump, and I said unto Jenny, ‘Now, Jenny, lay down the +towel, and pump for your life.’<br> +<br> +Thereupon Jenny, placing the towel on a linen-horse, took the handle +of the pump with both hands and pumped over my head as handmaid had +never pumped before; so that the water poured in torrents from my head, +my face, and my hair down upon the brick floor.<br> +<br> +And, after the lapse of somewhat more than a minute, I called out with +a half-strangled voice, ‘Hold, Jenny!’ and Jenny desisted. +I stood for a few moments to recover my breath, then taking the towel +which Jenny proffered, I dried composedly my hands and head, my face +and hair; then, returning the towel to Jenny, I gave a deep sigh and +said, ‘Surely this is one of the pleasant moments of life.’<br> +<br> +Then, having set my dress to rights, and combed my hair with a pocket +comb, I followed Jenny, who conducted me back through the long passage, +and showed me into a neat sanded parlour on the ground-floor.<br> +<br> +I sat down by a window which looked out upon the dusty street; presently +in came the handmaid, and commenced laying the table-cloth. ‘Shall +I spread the table for one, sir,’ said she, ‘or do you expect +anybody to dine with you?’ ‘I can’t say that +I expect anybody,’ said I, laughing inwardly to myself; ‘however, +if you please you can lay for two, so that if any acquaintance of mine +should chance to step in, he may find a knife and fork ready for him.’<br> +<br> +So I sat by the window, sometimes looking out upon the dusty street, +and now glancing at certain old-fashioned prints which adorned the wall +over against me. I fell into a kind of doze, from which I was +almost instantly awakened by the opening of the door. Dinner, +thought I; and I sat upright in my chair. No; a man of the middle +age, and rather above the middle height, dressed in a plain suit of +black, made his appearance, and sat down in a chair at some distance +from me, but near to the table, and appeared to be lost in thought.<br> +<br> +‘The weather is very warm, sir,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Very,’ said the stranger, laconically, looking at me for +the first time.<br> +<br> +‘Would you like to see the newspaper?’ said I, taking up +one which lay upon the window seat.<br> +<br> +‘I never read newspapers,’ said the stranger, ‘nor, +indeed, - ’ Whatever it might be that he had intended to +say he left unfinished. Suddenly he walked to the mantelpiece +at the farther end of the room, before which he placed himself with +his back towards me. There he remained motionless for some time; +at length, raising his hand, he touched the corner of the mantelpiece +with his finger, advanced towards the chair which he had left, and again +seated himself.<br> +<br> +‘Have you come far?’ said he, suddenly looking towards me, +and speaking in a frank and open manner, which denoted a wish to enter +into conversation. ‘You do not seem to be of this place.’<br> +<br> +‘I come from some distance,’ said I; ‘indeed, I am +walking for exercise, which I find as necessary to the mind as the body. +I believe that by exercise people would escape much mental misery.’<br> +<br> +Scarcely had I uttered these words when the stranger laid his hand, +with seeming carelessness, upon the table, near one of the glasses; +after a moment or two he touched the glass with his finger as if inadvertently, +then, glancing furtively at me, he withdrew his hand and looked towards +the window.<br> +<br> +‘Are you from these parts?’ said I at last, with apparent +carelessness.<br> +<br> +‘From this vicinity,’ replied the stranger. ‘You +think, then, that it is as easy to walk off the bad humours of the mind +as of the body?’<br> +<br> +‘I, at least, am walking in that hope,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘I wish you may be successful,’ said the stranger; and here +he touched one of the forks which lay on the table near him.<br> +<br> +Here the door, which was slightly ajar, was suddenly pushed open with +some fracas, and in came the stout landlord, supporting with some difficulty +an immense dish, in which was a mighty round mass of smoking meat garnished +all round with vegetables; so high was the mass that it probably obstructed +his view, for it was not until he had placed it upon the table that +he appeared to observe the stranger; he almost started, and quite out +of breath exclaimed, ‘God bless me, your honour; is your honour +the acquaintance that the young gentleman was expecting?’<br> +<br> +‘Is the young gentleman expecting an acquaintance?’ said +the stranger.<br> +<br> +There is nothing like putting a good face upon these matters, thought +I to myself; and, getting up, I bowed to the unknown. ‘Sir,’ +said I, ‘when I told Jenny that she might lay the table-cloth +for two, so that in the event of any acquaintance dropping in he might +find a knife and fork ready for him, I was merely jocular, being an +entire stranger in these parts, and expecting no one. Fortune, +however, it would seem, has been unexpectedly kind to me; I flatter +myself, sir, that since you have been in this room I have had the honour +of making your acquaintance; and in the strength of that hope I humbly +entreat you to honour me with your company to dinner, provided you have +not already dined.’<br> +<br> +The stranger laughed outright.<br> +<br> +‘Sir,’ I continued, ‘the round of beef is a noble +one, and seems exceedingly well boiled, and the landlord was just right +when he said I should have such a dinner as is not seen every day. +A round of beef, at any rate such a round of beef as this, is seldom +seen smoking upon the table in these degenerate times. Allow me, +sir,’ said I, observing that the stranger was about to speak, +‘allow me another remark. I think I saw you just now touch +the fork; I venture to hail it as an omen that you will presently seize +it, and apply it to its proper purpose, and its companion the knife +also.’<br> +<br> +The stranger changed colour, and gazed upon me in silence.<br> +<br> +‘Do, sir,’ here put in the landlord; ‘do, sir, accept +the young gentleman’s invitation. Your honour has of late +been looking poorly, and the young gentleman is a funny young gentleman, +and a clever young gentleman; and I think it will do your honour good +to have a dinner’s chat with the young gentleman.’<br> +<br> +‘It is not my dinner hour,’ said the stranger; ‘I +dine considerably later; taking anything now would only discompose me; +I shall, however, be most happy to sit down with the young gentleman; +reach me that paper, and, when the young gentleman has satisfied his +appetite, we may perhaps have a little chat together.’<br> +<br> +The landlord handed the stranger the newspaper, and, bowing, retired +with his maid Jenny. I helped myself to a portion of the smoking +round, and commenced eating with no little appetite. The stranger +appeared to be soon engrossed with the newspaper. We continued +thus a considerable time - the one reading and the other dining. +Chancing suddenly to cast my eyes upon the stranger, I saw his brow +contract; he gave a slight stamp with his foot, and flung the newspaper +to the ground, then stooping down he picked it up, first moving his +forefinger along the floor, seemingly slightly scratching it with his +nail.<br> +<br> +‘Do you hope, sir,’ said I, ‘by that ceremony with +the finger to preserve yourself from the evil chance?’<br> +<br> +The stranger started; then, after looking at me for some time in silence, +he said, ‘Is it possible that you - ?’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, ay,’ said I, helping myself to some more of the round; +‘I have touched myself in my younger days, both for the evil chance +and the good. Can’t say, though, that I ever trusted much +in the ceremony.’<br> +<br> +The stranger made no reply, but appeared to be in deep thought; nothing +farther passed between us until I had concluded the dinner, when I said +to him, ‘I shall now be most happy, sir, to have the pleasure +of your conversation over a pint of wine.’<br> +<br> +The stranger rose; ‘No, my young friend,’ said he, smiling, +‘that would scarce be fair. It is my turn now - pray do +me the favour to go home with me, and accept what hospitality my poor +roof can offer; to tell you the truth, I wish to have some particular +discourse with you which would hardly be possible in this place. +As for wine, I can give you some much better than you can get here: +the landlord is an excellent fellow, but he is an innkeeper after all. +I am going out for a moment, and will send him in, so that you may settle +your account; I trust you will not refuse me, I only live about two +miles from here.’<br> +<br> +I looked in the face of the stranger - it was a fine intelligent face, +with a cast of melancholy in it. ‘Sir,’ said I, ‘I +would go with you though you lived four miles instead of two.’<br> +<br> +‘Who is that gentleman?’ said I to the landlord, after I +had settled his bill; ‘I am going home with him.’<br> +<br> +‘I wish I were going too,’ said the fat landlord, laying +his hand upon his stomach. ‘Young gentleman, I shall be +a loser by his honour’s taking you away; but, after all, the truth +is the truth - there are few gentlemen in these parts like his honour, +either for learning or welcoming his friends. Young gentleman, +I congratulate you.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXIV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +New acquaintance - Old French style - The portrait - Taciturnity - The +evergreen tree - The dark hour - The flash - Ancestors - A fortunate +man - A posthumous child - Antagonist ideas - The hawks - Flaws - The +pony - Irresistible impulse - Favourable crisis - The topmost branch +- Twenty feet - Heartily ashamed.<br> +<br> +I found the stranger awaiting me at the door of the inn. ‘Like +yourself, I am fond of walking,’ said he, ‘and when any +little business calls me to this place I generally come on foot.’<br> +<br> +We were soon out of the town, and in a very beautiful country. +After proceeding some distance on the high-road, we turned off, and +were presently in one of those mazes of lanes for which England is famous; +the stranger at first seemed inclined to be taciturn; a few observations, +however, which I made appeared to rouse him, and he soon exhibited not +only considerable powers of conversation, but stores of information +which surprised me. So pleased did I become with my new acquaintance +that I soon ceased to pay the slightest attention either to place or +distance. At length the stranger was silent, and I perceived that +we had arrived at a handsome iron gate and a lodge; the stranger having +rung a bell, the gate was opened by an old man, and we proceeded along +a gravel path, which in about five minutes brought us to a large brick +house, built something in the old French style, having a spacious lawn +before it, and immediately in front a pond in which were golden fish, +and in the middle a stone swan discharging quantities of water from +its bill. We ascended a spacious flight of steps to the door, +which was at once flung open, and two servants with powdered hair and +in livery of blue plush came out and stood one on either side as we +passed the threshold. We entered a large hall, and the stranger, +taking me by the hand, welcomed me to his poor home, as he called it, +and then gave orders to another servant, but out of livery, to show +me to an apartment, and give me whatever assistance I might require +in my toilet. Notwithstanding the plea as to primitive habits +which I had lately made to my other host in the town, I offered no objection +to this arrangement, but followed the bowing domestic to a spacious +and airy chamber, where he rendered me all those little nameless offices +which the somewhat neglected state of my dress required. When +everything had been completed to my perfect satisfaction, he told me +that if I pleased he would conduct me to the library, where dinner would +be speedily served.<br> +<br> +In the library I found a table laid for two; my host was not there, +having as I supposed not been quite so speedy with his toilet as his +guest. Left alone, I looked round the apartment with inquiring +eyes; it was long and tolerably lofty, the walls from the top to the +bottom were lined with cases containing books of all sizes and bindings; +there was a globe or two, a couch, and an easy-chair. Statues +and busts there were none, and only one painting, a portrait, that of +my host, but not him of the mansion. Over the mantelpiece, the +features staringly like, but so ridiculously exaggerated that they scarcely +resembled those of a human being, daubed evidently by the hand of the +commonest sign-artist, hung a half-length portrait of him of round of +beef celebrity - my sturdy host of the town.<br> +<br> +I had been in the library about ten minutes, amusing myself as I best +could, when my friend entered; he seemed to have resumed his taciturnity +- scarce a word escaped his lips till dinner was served, when he said, +smiling, ‘I suppose it would be merely a compliment to ask you +to partake?’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t know,’ said I, seating myself; ‘your +first course consists of troutlets, I am fond of troutlets, and I always +like to be companionable.’<br> +<br> +The dinner was excellent, though I did but little justice to it from +the circumstance of having already dined; the stranger also, though +without my excuse, partook but slightly of the good cheer; he still +continued taciturn, and appeared lost in thought, and every attempt +which I made to induce him to converse was signally unsuccessful.<br> +<br> +And now dinner was removed, and we sat over our wine, and I remember +that the wine was good, and fully justified the encomiums of my host +of the town. Over the wine I made sure that my entertainer would +have loosened the chain which seemed to tie his tongue - but no! +I endeavoured to tempt him by various topics, and talked of geometry +and the use of the globes, of the heavenly sphere, and the star Jupiter, +which I said I had heard was a very large star, also of the evergreen +tree, which, according to Olaus, stood of old before the heathen temple +of Upsal, and which I affirmed was a yew - but no, nothing that I said +could induce my entertainer to relax his taciturnity.<br> +<br> +It grew dark, and I became uncomfortable. ‘I must presently +be going,’ I at last exclaimed.<br> +<br> +At these words he gave a sudden start; ‘Going,’ said he, +‘are you not my guest, and an honoured one?’<br> +<br> +‘You know best,’ said I; ‘but I was apprehensive I +was an intruder; to several of my questions you have returned no answer.’<br> +<br> +‘Ten thousand pardons!’ he exclaimed, seizing me by the +hand; ‘but you cannot go now, I have much to talk to you about +- there is one thing in particular - ’<br> +<br> +‘If it be the evergreen tree at Upsal,’ said I, interrupting +him, ‘I hold it to have been a yew - what else? The evergreens +of the south, as the old bishop observes, will not grow in the north, +and a pine was unfitted for such a locality, being a vulgar tree. +What else could it have been but the yew - the sacred yew which our +ancestors were in the habit of planting in their churchyards? +Moreover, I affirm it to have been the yew for the honour of the tree; +for I love the yew, and had I home and land, I would have one growing +before my front windows.’<br> +<br> +‘You would do right, the yew is indeed a venerable tree, but it +is not about the yew.’<br> +<br> +‘The star Jupiter, perhaps?’<br> +<br> +‘Nor the star Jupiter, nor its moons; an observation which escaped +you at the inn has made a considerable impression upon me.’<br> +<br> +‘But I really must take my departure,’ said I; ‘the +dark hour is at hand.’<br> +<br> +And as I uttered these latter words the stranger touched rapidly something +which lay near him - I forget what it was. It was the first action +of the kind which I had observed on his part since we sat down to table.<br> +<br> +‘You allude to the evil chance,’ said I; ‘but it is +getting both dark and late.’<br> +<br> +‘I believe we are going to have a storm,’ said my friend, +‘but I really hope that you will give me your company for a day +or two; I have, as I said before, much to talk to you about.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘I shall be most happy to be your +guest for this night; I am ignorant of the country, and it is not pleasant +to travel unknown paths by night - dear me, what a flash of lightning.’<br> +<br> +It had become very dark; suddenly a blaze of sheet lightning illumed +the room. By the momentary light I distinctly saw my host touch +another object upon the table.<br> +<br> +‘Will you allow me to ask you a question or two?’ said he +at last.<br> +<br> +‘As many as you please,’ said I; ‘but shall we not +have lights?’<br> +<br> +‘Not unless you particularly wish it,’ said my entertainer; +‘I rather like the dark, and though a storm is evidently at hand, +neither thunder nor lightning has any terrors for me. It is other +things I quake at - I should rather say ideas. Now permit me to +ask you - ’<br> +<br> +And then my entertainer asked me various questions, to all of which +I answered unreservedly; he was then silent for some time, at last he +exclaimed, ‘I should wish to tell you the history of my life - +though not an adventurous one, I think it contains some things which +will interest you.’<br> +<br> +Without waiting for my reply he began. Amidst darkness and gloom, +occasionally broken by flashes of lightning, the stranger related to +me, as we sat at table in the library, his truly touching history.<br> +<br> +‘Before proceeding to relate the events of my life, it will not +be amiss to give you some account of my ancestors. My great-grandfather +on the male side was a silk mercer, in Cheapside, who, when he died, +left his son, who was his only child, a fortune of one hundred thousand +pounds and a splendid business; the son, however, had no inclination +for trade, the summit of his ambition was to be a country gentleman, +to found a family, and to pass the remainder of his days in rural ease +and dignity, and all this he managed to accomplish; he disposed of his +business, purchased a beautiful and extensive estate for fourscore thousand +pounds, built upon it the mansion to which I had the honour of welcoming +you to-day, married the daughter of a neighbouring squire, who brought +him a fortune of five thousand pounds, became a magistrate, and only +wanted a son and heir to make him completely happy; this blessing, it +is true, was for a long time denied him; it came, however, at last, +as is usual, when least expected. His lady was brought to bed +of my father, and then who so happy a man as my grandsire; he gave away +two thousand pounds in charities, and in the joy of his heart made a +speech at the next quarter sessions; the rest of his life was spent +in ease, tranquillity, and rural dignity; he died of apoplexy on the +day that my father came of age; perhaps it would be difficult to mention +a man who in all respects was so fortunate as my grandfather: his death +was sudden it is true, but I am not one of those who pray to be delivered +from a sudden death.<br> +<br> +‘I should not call my father a fortunate man; it is true that +he had the advantage of a first-rate education; that he made the grand +tour with a private tutor, as was the fashion at that time; that he +came to a splendid fortune on the very day that he came of age; that +for many years he tasted all the diversions of the capital that, at +last determined to settle, he married the sister of a baronet, an amiable +and accomplished lady, with a large fortune; that he had the best stud +of hunters in the county, on which, during the season, he followed the +fox gallantly; had he been a fortunate man he would never have cursed +his fate, as he was frequently known to do; ten months after his marriage +his horse fell upon him, and so injured him, that he expired in a few +days in great agony. My grandfather was, indeed, a fortunate man; +when he died he was followed to the grave by the tears of the poor - +my father was not.<br> +<br> +‘Two remarkable circumstances are connected with my birth - I +am a posthumous child, and came into the world some weeks before the +usual time, the shock which my mother experienced at my father’s +death having brought on the pangs of premature labour; both my mother’s +life and my own were at first despaired of; we both, however, survived +the crisis. My mother loved me with the most passionate fondness, +and I was brought up in this house under her own eye - I was never sent +to school.<br> +<br> +‘I have already told you that mine is not a tale of adventure; +my life has not been one of action, but of wild imaginings and strange +sensations; I was born with excessive sensibility, and that has been +my bane. I have not been a fortunate man.<br> +<br> +‘No one is fortunate unless he is happy, and it is impossible +for a being constructed like myself to be happy for an hour, or even +enjoy peace and tranquillity; most of our pleasures and pains are the +effects of imagination, and wherever the sensibility is great, the imagination +is great also. No sooner has my imagination raised up an image +of pleasure, than it is sure to conjure up one of distress and gloom; +these two antagonist ideas instantly commence a struggle in my mind, +and the gloomy one generally, I may say invariably, prevails. +How is it possible that I should be a happy man?<br> +<br> +‘It has invariably been so with me from the earliest period that +I can remember; the first playthings that were given me caused me for +a few minutes excessive pleasure: they were pretty and glittering; presently, +however, I became anxious and perplexed, I wished to know their history, +how they were made, and what of - were the materials precious? +I was not satisfied with their outward appearance. In less than +an hour I had broken the playthings in an attempt to discover what they +were made of.<br> +<br> +‘When I was eight years of age my uncle the baronet, who was also +my godfather, sent me a pair of Norway hawks, with directions for managing +them; he was a great fowler. Oh, how rejoiced was I with the present +which had been made me, my joy lasted for at least five minutes; I would +let them breed, I would have a house of hawks; yes, that I would - but +- and here came the unpleasant idea - suppose they were to flyaway, +how very annoying! Ah, but, said hope, there’s little fear +of that; feed them well and they will never fly away, or if they do +they will come back, my uncle says so; so sunshine triumphed for a little +time. Then the strangest of all doubts came into my head; I doubted +the legality of my tenure of these hawks; how did I come by them? why, +my uncle gave them to me, but how did they come into his possession? +what right had he to them? after all, they might not be his to give. +I passed a sleepless night. The next morning I found that the +man who brought the hawks had not departed. “How came my +uncle by these hawks?” I anxiously inquired. “They +were sent to him from Norway, master, with another pair.” +“And who sent them?” “That I don’t know, +master, but I suppose his honour can tell you.” I was even +thinking of scrawling a letter to my uncle to make inquiry on this point, +but shame restrained me, and I likewise reflected that it would be impossible +for him to give my mind entire satisfaction; it is true he could tell +who sent him the hawks, but how was he to know how the hawks came into +the possession of those who sent them to him, and by what right they +possessed them or the parents of the hawks? In a word, I wanted +a clear valid title, as lawyers would say, to my hawks, and I believe +no title would have satisfied me that did not extend up to the time +of the first hawk, that is, prior to Adam; and, could I have obtained +such a title, I make no doubt that, young as I was, I should have suspected +that it was full of flaws.<br> +<br> +‘I was now disgusted with the hawks, and no wonder, seeing all +the disquietude they had caused me; I soon totally neglected the poor +birds, and they would have starved had not some of the servants taken +compassion upon them and fed them. My uncle, soon hearing of my +neglect, was angry, and took the birds away; he was a very good-natured +man, however, and soon sent me a fine pony; at first I was charmed with +the pony, soon, however, the same kind of thoughts arose which had disgusted +me on a former occasion. How did my uncle become possessed of +the pony? This question I asked him the first time I saw him. +Oh, he had bought it of a gypsy, that I might learn to ride upon it. +A gypsy; I had heard that gypsies were great thieves, and I instantly +began to fear that the gypsy had stolen the pony, and it is probable +that for this apprehension I had better grounds than for many others. +I instantly ceased to set any value upon the pony, but for that reason, +perhaps, I turned it to some account; I mounted it and rode it about, +which I don’t think I should have done had I looked upon it as +a secure possession. Had I looked upon my title as secure, I should +have prized it so much, that I should scarcely have mounted it for fear +of injuring the animal; but now, caring not a straw for it, I rode it +most unmercifully, and soon became a capital rider. This was very +selfish in me, and I tell the fact with shame. I was punished, +however, as I deserved; the pony had a spirit of its own, and, moreover, +it had belonged to gypsies; once, as I was riding it furiously over +the lawn, applying both whip and spur, it suddenly lifted up its heels, +and flung me at least five yards over its head. I received some +desperate contusions, and was taken up for dead; it was many months +before I perfectly recovered.<br> +<br> +‘But it is time for me to come to the touching part of my story. +There was one thing that I loved better than the choicest gift which +could be bestowed upon me, better than life itself - my mother; - at +length she became unwell, and the thought that I might possibly lose +her now rushed into my mind for the first time; it was terrible, and +caused me unspeakable misery, I may say horror. My mother became +worse, and I was not allowed to enter her apartment, lest by my frantic +exclamations of grief I might aggravate her disorder. I rested +neither day nor night, but roamed about the house like one distracted. +Suddenly I found myself doing that which even at the time struck me +as being highly singular; I found myself touching particular objects +that were near me, and to which my fingers seemed to be attracted by +an irresistible impulse. It was now the table or the chair that +I was compelled to touch; now the bell-rope; now the handle of the door; +now I would touch the wall, and the next moment, stooping down, I would +place the point of my finger upon the floor: and so I continued to do +day after day; frequently I would struggle to resist the impulse, but +invariably in vain. I have even rushed away from the object, but +I was sure to return, the impulse was too strong to be resisted: I quickly +hurried back, compelled by the feeling within me to touch the object. +Now I need not tell you that what impelled me to these actions was the +desire to prevent my mother’s death; whenever I touched any particular +object, it was with the view of baffling the evil chance, as you would +call it - in this instance my mother’s death.<br> +<br> +‘A favourable crisis occurred in my mother’s complaint, +and she recovered; this crisis took place about six o’clock in +the morning; almost simultaneously with it there happened to myself +a rather remarkable circumstance connected with the nervous feeling +which was rioting in my system. I was lying in bed in a kind of +uneasy doze, the only kind of rest which my anxiety on account of my +mother permitted me at this time to take, when all at once I sprang +up as if electrified; the mysterious impulse was upon me, and it urged +me to go without delay, and climb a stately elm behind the house, and +touch the topmost branch; otherwise - you know the rest - the evil chance +would prevail. Accustomed for some time as I had been, under this +impulse, to perform extravagant actions, I confess to you that the difficulty +and peril of such a feat startled me; I reasoned against the feeling, +and strove more strenuously than I had ever done before; I even made +a solemn vow not to give way to the temptation, but I believe nothing +less than chains, and those strong ones, could have restrained me. +The demoniac influence, for I can call it nothing else, at length prevailed; +it compelled me to rise, to dress myself, to descend the stairs, to +unbolt the door, and to go forth; it drove me to the foot of the tree, +and it compelled me to climb the trunk; this was a tremendous task, +and I only accomplished it after repeated falls and trials. When +I had got amongst the branches, I rested for a time, and then set about +accomplishing the remainder of the ascent; this for some time was not +so difficult, for I was now amongst the branches; as I approached the +top, however, the difficulty became greater, and likewise the danger; +but I was a light boy, and almost as nimble as a squirrel, and, moreover, +the nervous feeling was within me, impelling me upward. It was +only by means of a spring, however, that I was enabled to touch the +top of the tree; I sprang, touched the top of the tree, and fell a distance +of at least twenty feet, amongst the branches; had I fallen to the bottom +I must have been killed, but I fell into the middle of the tree, and +presently found myself astride upon one of the boughs; scratched and +bruised all over, I reached the ground, and regained my chamber unobserved; +I flung myself on my bed quite exhausted; presently they came to tell +me that my mother was better - they found me in the state which I have +described, and in a fever besides. The favourable crisis must +have occurred just about the time that I performed the magic touch; +it certainly was a curious coincidence, yet I was not weak enough, even +though a child, to suppose that I had baffled the evil chance by my +daring feat.<br> +<br> +‘Indeed, all the time that I was performing these strange feats, +I knew them to be highly absurd, yet the impulse to perform them was +irresistible - a mysterious dread hanging over me till I had given way +to it; even at that early period I frequently used to reason within +myself as to what could be the cause of my propensity to touch, but +of course I could come to no satisfactory conclusion respecting it; +being heartily ashamed of the practice, I never spoke of it to any one, +and was at all times highly solicitous that no one should observe my +weakness.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Maternal anxiety - The baronet - Little zest - Country life - Mr. Speaker! +- The craving - Spirited address - An author.<br> +<br> +After a short pause my host resumed his narration. ‘Though +I was never sent to school, my education was not neglected on that account; +I had tutors in various branches of knowledge, under whom I made a tolerable +progress; by the time I was eighteen I was able to read most of the +Greek and Latin authors with facility; I was likewise, to a certain +degree, a mathematician. I cannot say that I took much pleasure +in my studies; my chief aim in endeavouring to accomplish my tasks was +to give pleasure to my beloved parent, who watched my progress with +anxiety truly maternal. My life at this period may be summed up +in a few words: I pursued my studies, roamed about the woods, walked +the green lanes occasionally, cast my fly in a trout stream, and sometimes, +but not often, rode a-hunting with my uncle. A considerable part +of my time was devoted to my mother, conversing with her and reading +to her; youthful companions I had none, and as to my mother, she lived +in the greatest retirement, devoting herself to the superintendence +of my education, and the practice of acts of charity; nothing could +be more innocent than this mode of life, and some people say that in +innocence there is happiness, yet I can’t say that I was happy. +A continual dread overshadowed my mind, it was the dread of my mother’s +death. Her constitution had never been strong, and it had been +considerably shaken by her last illness; this I knew, and this I saw +- for the eyes of fear are marvellously keen. Well, things went +on in this way till I had come of age; my tutors were then dismissed, +and my uncle the baronet took me in hand, telling my mother that it +was high time for him to exert his authority; that I must see something +of the world, for that, if I remained much longer with her, I should +be ruined. “You must consign him to me,” said he, +“and I will introduce him to the world.” My mother +sighed and consented; so my uncle the baronet introduced me to the world, +took me to horse-races and to London, and endeavoured to make a man +of me according to his idea of the term, and in part succeeded. +I became moderately dissipated - I say moderately, for dissipation had +but little zest for me.<br> +<br> +‘In this manner four years passed over. It happened that +I was in London in the height of the season with my uncle, at his house; +one morning he summoned me into the parlour, he was standing before +the fire, and looked very serious. “I have had a letter,” +said he; “your mother is very ill.” I staggered, and +touched the nearest object to me; nothing was said for two or three +minutes, and then my uncle put his lips to my ear and whispered something. +I fell down senseless. My mother was . . . I remember nothing +for a long time - for two years I was out of my mind; at the end of +this time I recovered, or partly so. My uncle the baronet was +very kind to me; he advised me to travel, he offered to go with me. +I told him he was very kind, but I would rather go by myself. +So I went abroad, and saw, amongst other things, Rome and the Pyramids. +By frequent change of scene my mind became not happy, but tolerably +tranquil. I continued abroad some years, when, becoming tired +of travelling, I came home, found my uncle the baronet alive, hearty, +and unmarried, as he still is. He received me very kindly, took +me to Newmarket, and said that he hoped by this time I was become quite +a man of the world; by his advice I took a house in town, in which I +lived during the season. In summer I strolled from one watering-place +to another; and, in order to pass the time, I became very dissipated.<br> +<br> +‘At last I became as tired of dissipation as I had previously +been of travelling, and I determined to retire to the country, and live +on my paternal estate; this resolution I was not slow in putting into +effect; I sold my house in town, repaired and refurnished my country +house, and, for at least ten years, lived a regular country life; I +gave dinner parties, prosecuted poachers, was charitable to the poor, +and now and then went into my library; during this time I was seldom +or never visited by the magic impulse, the reason being that there was +nothing in the wide world for which I cared sufficiently to move a finger +to preserve it. When the ten years, however, were nearly ended, +I started out of bed one morning in a fit of horror, exclaiming, “Mercy, +mercy! what will become of me? I am afraid I shall go mad. +I have lived thirty-five years and upwards without doing anything; shall +I pass through life in this manner? Horror!” And then +in rapid succession I touched three different objects.<br> +<br> +‘I dressed myself and went down, determining to set about something; +but what was I to do? - there was the difficulty. I ate no breakfast, +but walked about the room in a state of distraction; at last I thought +that the easiest way to do something was to get into Parliament, there +would be no difficulty in that. I had plenty of money, and could +buy a seat; but what was I to do in Parliament? Speak, of course +- but could I speak? “I’ll try at once,” said +I, and forthwith I rushed into the largest dining-room, and, locking +the door, I commenced speaking: “Mr. Speaker,” said I, and +then I went on speaking for about ten minutes as I best could, and then +I left off, for I was talking nonsense. No, I was not formed for +Parliament; I could do nothing there. What - what was I to do?<br> +<br> +‘Many, many times I thought this question over, but was unable +to solve it; a fear now stole over me that I was unfit for anything +in the world, save the lazy life of vegetation which I had for many +years been leading; yet, if that were the case, thought I, why the craving +within me to distinguish myself? Surely it does not occur fortuitously, +but is intended to rouse and call into exercise certain latent powers +that I possess? and then with infinite eagerness I set about attempting +to discover these latent powers. I tried an infinity of pursuits, +botany and geology amongst the rest, but in vain; I was fitted for none +of them. I became very sorrowful and despondent, and at one time +I had almost resolved to plunge again into the whirlpool of dissipation; +it was a dreadful resource, it was true, but what better could I do?<br> +<br> +‘But I was not doomed to return to the dissipation of the world. +One morning a young nobleman, who had for some time past showed a wish +to cultivate my acquaintance, came to me in a considerable hurry. +“I am come to beg an important favour of you,” said he; +“one of the county memberships is vacant - I intend to become +a candidate; what I want immediately is a spirited address to the electors. +I have been endeavouring to frame one all the morning, but in vain; +I have, therefore, recourse to you as a person of infinite genius; pray, +my dear friend, concoct me one by the morning!” “What +you require of me,” I replied, “is impossible; I have not +the gift of words; did I possess it I would stand for the county myself, +but I can’t speak. Only the other day I attempted to make +a speech, but left off suddenly, utterly ashamed, although I was quite +alone, of the nonsense I was uttering.” “It is not +a speech that I want,” said my friend; “I can talk for three +hours without hesitating, but I want an address to circulate through +the county, and I find myself utterly incompetent to put one together; +do oblige me by writing one for me, I know you can; and, if at any time +you want a person to speak for you, you may command me not for three +but for six hours. Good-morning; to-morrow I will breakfast with +you.” In the morning he came again. “Well,” +said he, “what success?” “Very poor,” +said I; “but judge for yourself”; and I put into his hand +a manuscript of several pages. My friend read it through with +considerable attention. “I congratulate you,” said +he, “and likewise myself; I was not mistaken in my opinion of +you; the address is too long by at least two-thirds, or I should rather +say, that it is longer by two-thirds than addresses generally are; but +it will do - I will not curtail it of a word. I shall win my election.” +And in truth he did win his election; and it was not only his own but +the general opinion that he owed it to the address.<br> +<br> +‘But, however that might be, I had, by writing the address, at +last discovered what had so long eluded my search - what I was able +to do. I, who had neither the nerve nor the command of speech +necessary to constitute the orator - who had not the power of patient +research required by those who would investigate the secrets of nature, +had, nevertheless, a ready pen and teeming imagination. This discovery +decided my fate - from that moment I became an author.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXVI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Trepidations - Subtle principle - Perverse imagination - Are they mine? +- Another book - How hard! - Agricultural dinner - Incomprehensible +actions - Inmost bosom - Give it up - Chance resemblance - Rascally +newspaper.<br> +<br> +‘An author,’ said I, addressing my host; ‘is it possible +that I am under the roof of an author?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said my host, sighing, ‘my name is so and so, +and I am the author of so and so; it is more than probable that you +have heard both of my name and works. I will not detain you much +longer with my history; the night is advancing, and the storm appears +to be upon the increase. My life since the period of my becoming +an author may be summed briefly as an almost uninterrupted series of +doubts, anxieties, and trepidations. I see clearly that it is +not good to love anything immoderately in this world, but it has been +my misfortune to love immoderately everything on which I have set my +heart. This is not good, I repeat - but where is the remedy? +The ancients were always in the habit of saying, “Practise moderation,” +but the ancients appear to have considered only one portion of the subject. +It is very possible to practise moderation in some things, in drink +and the like - to restrain the appetites - but can a man restrain the +affections of his mind, and tell them, so far you shall go, and no farther? +Alas, no! for the mind is a subtle principle, and cannot be confined. +The winds may be imprisoned; Homer says that Odysseus carried certain +winds in his ship, confined in leathern bags, but Homer never speaks +of confining the affections. It were but right that those who +exhort us against inordinate affections, and setting our hearts too +much upon the world and its vanities, would tell us how to avoid doing +so.<br> +<br> +‘I need scarcely tell you that no sooner did I become an author +than I gave myself up immoderately to my vocation. It became my +idol, and, as a necessary consequence, it has proved a source of misery +and disquietude to me, instead of pleasure and blessing. I had +trouble enough in writing my first work, and I was not long in discovering +that it was one thing to write a stirring and spirited address to a +set of county electors, and another widely different to produce a work +at all calculated to make an impression upon the great world. +I felt, however, that I was in my proper sphere, and by dint of unwearied +diligence and exertion I succeeded in evolving from the depths of my +agitated breast a work which, though it did not exactly please me, I +thought would serve to make an experiment upon the public; so I laid +it before the public, and the reception which it met with was far beyond +my wildest expectations. The public were delighted with it, but +what were my feelings? Anything, alas! but those of delight. +No sooner did the public express its satisfaction at the result of my +endeavours, than my perverse imagination began to conceive a thousand +chimerical doubts; forthwith I sat down to analyse it; and my worst +enemy, and all people have their enemies, especially authors - my worst +enemy could not have discovered or sought to discover a tenth part of +the faults which I, the author and creator of the unfortunate production, +found or sought to find in it. It has been said that love makes +us blind to the faults of the loved object - common love does, perhaps +- the love of a father to his child, or that of a lover to his mistress, +but not the inordinate love of an author to his works, at least not +the love which one like myself bears to his works: to be brief, I discovered +a thousand faults in my work, which neither public nor critics discovered. +However, I was beginning to get over this misery, and to forgive my +work all its imperfections, when - and I shake when I mention it - the +same kind of idea which perplexed me with regard to the hawks and the +gypsy pony rushed into my mind, and I forthwith commenced touching the +objects around me, in order to baffle the evil chance, as you call it; +it was neither more nor less than a doubt of the legality of my claim +to the thoughts, expressions, and situations contained in the book; +that is, to all that constituted the book. How did I get them? +How did they come into my mind? Did I invent them? Did they +originate with myself? Are they my own, or are they some other +body’s? You see into what difficulty I had got; I won’t +trouble you by relating all that I endured at that time, but will merely +say that after eating my own heart, as the Italians say, and touching +every object that came in my way for six months, I at length flung my +book, I mean the copy of it which I possessed, into the fire, and began +another.<br> +<br> +‘But it was all in vain; I laboured at this other, finished it, +and gave it to the world; and no sooner had I done so, than the same +thought was busy in my brain, poisoning all the pleasure which I should +otherwise have derived from my work. How did I get all the matter +which composed it? Out of my own mind, unquestionably; but how +did it come there - was it the indigenous growth of the mind? +And then I would sit down and ponder over the various scenes and adventures +in my book, endeavouring to ascertain how I came originally to devise +them, and by dint of reflecting I remembered that to a single word in +conversation, or some simple accident in a street or on a road, I was +indebted for some of the happiest portions of my work; they were but +tiny seeds, it is true, which in the soil of my imagination had subsequently +become stately trees, but I reflected that without them no stately trees +would have been produced, and that, consequently, only a part in the +merit of these compositions which charmed the world - for the did charm +the world - was due to myself. Thus, a dead fly was in my phial, +poisoning all the pleasure which I should otherwise have derived from +the result of my brain-sweat. “How hard!” I would +exclaim, looking up to the sky, “how hard! I am like Virgil’s +sheep, bearing fleeces not for themselves.” But, not to +tire you, it fared with my second work as it did with my first; I flung +it aside, and, in order to forget it, I began a third, on which I am +now occupied; but the difficulty of writing it is immense, my extreme +desire to be original sadly cramping the powers of my mind; my fastidiousness +being so great that I invariably reject whatever ideas I do not think +to be legitimately my own. But there is one circumstance to which +I cannot help alluding here, as it serves to show what miseries this +love of originality must needs bring upon an author. I am constantly +discovering that, however original I may wish to be, I am continually +producing the same things which other people say or write. Whenever, +after producing something which gives me perfect satisfaction, and which +has cost me perhaps days and nights of brooding, I chance to take up +a book for the sake of a little relaxation, a book which I never saw +before, I am sure to find in it something more or less resembling some +part of what I have been just composing. You will easily conceive +the distress which then comes over me; ’tis then that I am almost +tempted to execrate the chance which, by discovering my latent powers, +induced me to adopt a profession of such anxiety and misery.<br> +<br> +‘For some time past I have given up reading almost entirely, owing +to the dread which I entertain of lighting upon something similar to +what I myself have written. I scarcely ever transgress without +having almost instant reason to repent. To-day, when I took up +the newspaper, I saw in a speech of the Duke of Rhododendron, at an +agricultural dinner, the very same ideas, and almost the same expressions +which I had put into the mouth of an imaginary personage of mine, on +a widely different occasion; you saw how I dashed the newspaper down +- you saw how I touched the floor; the touch was to baffle the evil +chance, to prevent the critics detecting any similarity between the +speech of the Duke of Rhododendron at the agricultural dinner and the +speech of my personage. My sensibility on the subject of my writings +is so great that sometimes a chance word is sufficient to unman me, +I apply it to them in a superstitious sense; for example, when you said +some time ago that the dark hour was coming on, I applied it to my works +- it appeared to bode them evil fortune; you saw how I touched, it was +to baffle the evil chance; but I do not confine myself to touching when +the fear of the evil chance is upon me. To baffle it I occasionally +perform actions which must appear highly incomprehensible; I have been +known, when riding in company with other people, to leave the direct +road, and make a long circuit by a miry lane to the place to which we +were going. I have also been seen attempting to ride across a +morass, where I had no business whatever, and in which my horse finally +sank up to its saddle-girths, and was only extricated by the help of +a multitude of hands. I have, of course, frequently been asked +the reason of such conduct, to which I have invariably returned no answer, +for I scorn duplicity; whereupon people have looked mysteriously, and +sometimes put their fingers to their foreheads. “And yet +it can’t be,” I once heard an old gentleman say; “don’t +we know what he is capable of?” and the old man was right; I merely +did these things to avoid the evil chance, impelled by the strange feeling +within me; and this evil chance is invariably connected with my writings, +the only things at present which render life valuable to me. If +I touch various objects, and ride into miry places, it is to baffle +any mischance befalling me as an author, to prevent my books getting +into disrepute; in nine cases out of ten to prevent any expressions, +thoughts, or situations in any work which I am writing from resembling +the thoughts, expressions, and situations of other authors, for my great +wish, as I told you before, is to be original.<br> +<br> +‘I have now related my history, and have revealed to you the secrets +of my inmost bosom. I should certainly not have spoken so unreservedly +as I have done, had I not discovered in you a kindred spirit. +I have long wished for an opportunity of discoursing on the point which +forms the peculiar feature of my history with a being who could understand +me; and truly it was a lucky chance which brought you to these parts; +you who seem to be acquainted with all things strange and singular, +and who are as well acquainted with the subject of the magic touch as +with all that relates to the star Jupiter or the mysterious tree at +Upsal.’<br> +<br> +Such was the story which my host related to me in the library, amidst +the darkness, occasionally broken by flashes of lightning. Both +of us remained silent for some time after it was concluded.<br> +<br> +‘It is a singular story,’ said I, at last, ‘though +I confess that I was prepared for some part of it. Will you permit +me to ask you a question?’<br> +<br> +‘Certainly,’ said my host.<br> +<br> +‘Did you never speak in public?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Never.’<br> +<br> +‘And when you made this speech of yours in the dining-room, commencing +with Mr. Speaker, no one was present?’<br> +<br> +‘None in the world, I double-locked the door; what do you mean?’<br> +<br> +‘An idea came into my head - dear me how the rain is pouring - +but, with respect to your present troubles and anxieties, would it not +be wise, seeing that authorship causes you so much trouble and anxiety, +to give it up altogether?’<br> +<br> +‘Were you an author yourself,’ replied my host, ‘you +would not talk in this manner; once an author, ever an author - besides, +what could I do? return to my former state of vegetation? no, much as +I endure, I do not wish that; besides, every now and then my reason +tells me that these troubles and anxieties of mine are utterly without; +foundation that whatever I write is the legitimate growth of my own +mind, and that it is the height of folly to afflict myself at any chance +resemblance between my own thoughts and those of other writers, such +resemblance being inevitable from the fact of our common human origin. +In short - ’<br> +<br> +‘I understand you,’ said I; ‘notwithstanding your +troubles and anxieties you find life very tolerable; has your originality +ever been called in question?’<br> +<br> +‘On the contrary, every one declares that originality constitutes +the most remarkable feature of my writings; the man has some faults, +they say, but want of originality is certainly not one of them. +He is quite different from others - a certain newspaper, it is true, +the - I think, once insinuated that in a certain work of mine I had +taken a hint or two from the writings of a couple of authors which it +mentioned; it happened, however, that I had never even read one syllable +of the writings of either, and of one of them had never even heard the +name; so much for the discrimination of the -. By the bye, what +a rascally newspaper that is!’<br> +<br> +‘A very rascally newspaper,’ said I.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXVII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Disturbed slumbers - The bed-post - Two wizards - What can I do? - Real +library - The Rev. Mr. Platitude - Toleration to Dissenters - Paradox +- Sword of St. Peter - Enemy to humbug - High principles - False concord +- The damsel - What religion? - Further conversation - That would never +do! - May you prosper.<br> +<br> +During the greater part of that night my slumbers were disturbed by +strange dreams. Amongst other things, I fancied that I was my +host; my head appeared to be teeming with wild thoughts and imaginations, +out of which I was endeavouring to frame a book. And now the book +was finished and given to the world, and the world shouted; and all +eyes were turned upon me, and I shrank from the eyes of the world. +And, when I got into retired places, I touched various objects in order +to baffle the evil chance. In short, during the whole night, I +was acting over the story which I had heard before I went to bed.<br> +<br> +At about eight o’clock I awoke. The storm had long since +passed away, and the morning was bright and shining; my couch was so +soft and luxurious that I felt loth to quit it, so I lay some time, +my eyes wandering about the magnificent room to which fortune had conducted +me in so singular a manner; at last I heaved a sigh; I was thinking +of my own homeless condition, and imagining where I should find myself +on the following morning. Unwilling, however, to indulge in melancholy +thoughts, I sprang out of bed and proceeded to dress myself, and, whilst +dressing, I felt an irresistible inclination to touch the bed-post.<br> +<br> +I finished dressing and left the room, feeling compelled, however, as +I left it, to touch the lintel of the door. Is it possible, thought +I, that from what I have lately heard the long-forgotten influence should +have possessed me again? but I will not give way to it; so I hurried +downstairs, resisting as I went a certain inclination which I occasionally +felt to touch the rail of the banister. I was presently upon the +gravel walk before the house: it was indeed a glorious morning. +I stood for some time observing the golden fish disporting in the waters +of the pond, and then strolled about amongst the noble trees of the +park; the beauty and freshness of the morning - for the air had been +considerably cooled by the late storm - soon enabled me to cast away +the gloomy ideas which had previously taken possession of my mind, and, +after a stroll of about half an hour, I returned towards the house in +high spirits. It is true that once I felt very much inclined to +go and touch the leaves of a flowery shrub which I saw at some distance, +and had even moved two or three paces towards it; but, bethinking myself, +I manfully resisted the temptation. ‘Begone!’ I exclaimed, +‘ye sorceries, in which I formerly trusted - begone for ever vagaries +which I had almost forgotten; good luck is not to be obtained, or bad +averted, by magic touches; besides, two wizards in one parish would +be too much, in all conscience.’<br> +<br> +I returned to the house, and entered the library; breakfast was laid +on the table, and my friend was standing before the portrait which I +have already said hung above the mantelpiece; so intently was he occupied +in gazing at it that he did not hear me enter, nor was aware of my presence +till I advanced close to him and spoke, when he turned round and shook +me by the hand.<br> +<br> +‘What can possibly have induced you to hang up that portrait in +your library? it is a staring likeness, it is true, but it appears to +me a wretched daub.’<br> +<br> +‘Daub as you call it,’ said my friend, smiling, ‘I +would not part with it for the best piece of Rafael. For many +a happy thought I am indebted to that picture - it is my principal source +of inspiration; when my imagination flags, as of course it occasionally +does, I stare upon those features, and forthwith strange ideas of fun +and drollery begin to flow into my mind; these I round, amplify, or +combine into goodly creations, and bring forth as I find an opportunity. +It is true that I am occasionally tormented by the thought that, by +doing this, I am committing plagiarism; though, in that case, all thoughts +must be plagiarisms, all that we think being the result of what we hear, +see, or feel. What can I do? I must derive my thoughts from +some source or other; and, after all, it is better to plagiarise from +the features of my landlord than from the works of Butler and Cervantes. +My works, as you are aware, are of a serio-comic character. My +neighbours are of opinion that I am a great reader, and so I am, but +only of those features - my real library is that picture.’<br> +<br> +‘But how did you obtain it?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Some years ago a travelling painter came into this neighbourhood, +and my jolly host, at the request of his wife, consented to sit for +his portrait; she highly admired the picture, but she soon died, and +then my fat friend, who is of an affectionate disposition, said he could +not bear the sight of it, as it put him in mind of his poor wife. +I purchased it of him for five pounds - I would not take five thousand +for it; when you called that picture a daub, you did not see all the +poetry of it.’<br> +<br> +We sat down to breakfast; my entertainer appeared to be in much better +spirits than on the preceding day; I did not observe him touch once; +ere breakfast was over a servant entered - ‘The Reverend Mr. Platitude, +sir,’ said he.<br> +<br> +A shade of dissatisfaction came over the countenance of my host. +‘What does the silly pestilent fellow mean by coming here?’ +said he, half to himself; ‘let him come in,’ said he to +the servant.<br> +<br> +The servant went out, and in a moment reappeared, introducing the Reverend +Mr. Platitude. The Reverend Mr. Platitude, having what is vulgarly +called a game leg, came shambling into the room; he was about thirty +years of age, and about five feet three inches high; his face was of +the colour of pepper, and nearly as rugged as a nutmeg-grater; his hair +was black; with his eyes he squinted, and grinned with his lips, which +were very much apart, disclosing two very irregular rows of teeth; he +was dressed in the true Levitical fashion, in a suit of spotless black, +and a neckerchief of spotless white.<br> +<br> +The Reverend Mr. Platitude advanced winking and grinning to my entertainer, +who received him politely but with evident coldness; nothing daunted, +however, the Reverend Mr. Platitude took a seat by the table, and, being +asked to take a cup of coffee, winked, grinned, and consented.<br> +<br> +In company I am occasionally subject to fits of what is generally called +absence; my mind takes flight and returns to former scenes, or presses +forward into the future. One of these fits of absence came over +me at this time - I looked at the Reverend Mr. Platitude for a moment, +heard a word or two that proceeded from his mouth, and saying to myself, +‘You are no man for me,’ fell into a fit of musing - into +the same train of thought as in the morning, no very pleasant one - +I was thinking of the future.<br> +<br> +I continued in my reverie for some time, and probably should have continued +longer, had I not been suddenly aroused by the voice of Mr. Platitude +raised to a very high key. ‘Yes, my dear sir,’ said +he, ‘it is but too true; I have it on good authority - a gone +church - a lost church - a ruined church - a demolished church is the +Church of England. Toleration to Dissenters! - oh, monstrous!’<br> +<br> +‘I suppose,’ said my host, ‘that the repeal of the +Test Acts will be merely a precursor of the emancipation of the Papists?’<br> +<br> +‘Of the Catholics,’ said the Reverend Mr. Platitude. +‘Ahem. There was a time, as I believe you are aware, my +dear sir, when I was as much opposed to the emancipation of the Catholics +as it was possible for any one to be; but I was prejudiced, my dear +sir, labouring under a cloud of most unfortunate prejudice; but I thank +my Maker I am so no longer. I have travelled, as you are aware. +It is only by travelling that one can rub off prejudices; I think you +will agree with me there. I am speaking to a traveller. +I left behind all my prejudices in Italy. The Catholics are at +least our fellow-Christians. I thank Heaven that I am no longer +an enemy to Catholic emancipation.’<br> +<br> +‘And yet you would not tolerate Dissenters?’<br> +<br> +‘Dissenters, my dear sir; I hope you would not class such a set +as the Dissenters with Catholics?’<br> +<br> +‘Perhaps it would be unjust,’ said my host, ‘though +to which of the two parties is another thing; but permit me to ask you +a question: Does it not smack somewhat of paradox to talk of Catholics, +whilst you admit there are Dissenters? If there are Dissenters, +how should there be Catholics?’<br> +<br> +‘It is not my fault that there are Dissenters,’ said the +Reverend Mr. Platitude; ‘if I had my will I would neither admit +there were any, nor permit any to be.’<br> +<br> +‘Of course you would admit there were such as long as they existed; +but how would you get rid of them?’<br> +<br> +‘I would have the Church exert its authority.’<br> +<br> +‘What do you mean by exerting its authority?’<br> +<br> +‘I would not have the Church bear the sword in vain.’<br> +<br> +‘What, the sword of St. Peter? You remember what the founder +of the religion which you profess said about the sword, “He who +striketh with it . . . ” I think those who have called themselves +the Church have had enough of the sword. Two can play with the +sword, Mr. Platitude. The Church of Rome tried the sword with +the Lutherans: how did it fare with the Church of Rome? The Church +of England tried the sword, Mr. Platitude, with the Puritans: how did +it fare with Laud and Charles?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, as for the Church of England,’ said Mr. Platitude, +‘I have little to say. Thank God, I left all my Church of +England prejudices in Italy. Had the Church of England known its +true interests, it would long ago have sought a reconciliation with +its illustrious mother. If the Church of England had not been +in some degree a schismatic church, it would not have fared so ill at +the time of which you are speaking; the rest of the Church would have +come to its assistance. The Irish would have helped it, so would +the French, so would the Portuguese. Disunion has always been +the bane of the Church.’<br> +<br> +Once more I fell into a reverie. My mind now reverted to the past; +methought I was in a small comfortable room wainscoted with oak; I was +seated on one side of a fireplace, close by a table on which were wine +and fruit; on the other side of the fire sat a man in a plain suit of +brown, with the hair combed back from his somewhat high forehead; he +had a pipe in his mouth, which for some time he smoked gravely and placidly, +without saying a word; at length, after drawing at the pipe for some +time rather vigorously, he removed it from his mouth, and, emitting +an accumulated cloud of smoke, he exclaimed in a slow and measured tone, +‘As I was telling you just now, my good chap, I have always been +an enemy to humbug.’<br> +<br> +When I awoke from my reverie the Reverend Mr. Platitude was quitting +the apartment.<br> +<br> +‘Who is that person?’ said I to my entertainer, as the door +closed behind him.<br> +<br> +‘Who is he?’ said my host; ‘why, the Reverend Mr. +Platitude.’<br> +<br> +‘Does he reside in this neighbourhood?’<br> +<br> +‘He holds a living about three miles from here; his history, as +far as I am acquainted with it, is as follows. His father was +a respectable tanner in the neighbouring town, who, wishing to make +his son a gentleman, sent him to college. Having never been at +college myself, I cannot say whether he took the wisest course; I believe +it is more easy to unmake than to make a gentleman; I have known many +gentlemanly youths go to college, and return anything but what they +went. Young Mr. Platitude did not go to college a gentleman, but +neither did he return one: he went to college an ass, and returned a +prig; to his original folly was superadded a vast quantity of conceit. +He told his father that he had adopted high principles, and was determined +to discountenance everything low and mean; advised him to eschew trade, +and to purchase him a living. The old man retired from business, +purchased his son a living, and shortly after died, leaving him what +remained of his fortune. The first thing the Reverend Mr. Platitude +did, after his father’s decease, was to send his mother and sister +into Wales to live upon a small annuity, assigning as a reason that +he was averse to anything low, and that they talked ungrammatically. +Wishing to shine in the pulpit, he now preached high sermons, as he +called them, interspersed with scraps of learning. His sermons +did not, however, procure him much popularity; on the contrary, his +church soon became nearly deserted, the greater part of his flock going +over to certain dissenting preachers, who had shortly before made their +appearance in the neighbourhood. Mr. Platitude was filled with +wrath, and abused Dissenters in most unmeasured terms. Coming +in contact with some of the preachers at a public meeting, he was rash +enough to enter into argument with them. Poor Platitude! he had +better have been quiet, he appeared like a child, a very infant, in +their grasp; he attempted to take shelter under his college learning, +but found, to his dismay, that his opponents knew more Greek and Latin +than himself. These illiterate boors, as he had supposed them, +caught him at once in a false concord, and Mr. Platitude had to slink +home overwhelmed with shame. To avenge himself he applied to the +ecclesiastical court, but was told that the Dissenters could not be +put down by the present ecclesiastical law. He found the Church +of England, to use his own expression, a poor, powerless, restricted +Church. He now thought to improve his consequence by marriage, +and made up to a rich and beautiful young lady in the neighbourhood; +the damsel measured him from head to foot with a pair of very sharp +eyes, dropped a curtsey, and refused him. Mr. Platitude, finding +England a very stupid place, determined to travel; he went to Italy; +how he passed his time there he knows best, to other people it is a +matter of little importance. At the end of two years he returned +with a real or assumed contempt for everything English, and especially +for the Church to which he belongs, and out of which he is supported. +He forthwith gave out that he had left behind him all his Church of +England prejudices, and, as a proof thereof, spoke against sacerdotal +wedlock and the toleration of schismatics. In an evil hour for +myself he was introduced to me by a clergyman of my acquaintance, and +from that time I have been pestered, as I was this morning, at least +once a week. I seldom enter into any discussion with him, but +fix my eyes on the portrait over the mantelpiece, and endeavour to conjure +up some comic idea or situation, whilst he goes on talking tomfoolery +by the hour about Church authority, schismatics, and the unlawfulness +of sacerdotal wedlock; occasionally he brings with him a strange kind +of being, whose acquaintance he says he made in Italy; I believe he +is some sharking priest who has come over to proselytise and plunder. +This being has some powers of conversation and some learning, but carries +the countenance of an arch villain; Platitude is evidently his tool.’<br> +<br> +‘Of what religion are you?’ said I to my host.<br> +<br> +‘That of the Vicar of Wakefield - good, quiet, Church of England, +which would live and let live, practises charity, and rails at no one; +where the priest is the husband of one wife, takes care of his family +and his parish - such is the religion for me, though I confess I have +hitherto thought too little of religious matters. When, however, +I have completed this plaguy work on which I am engaged, I hope to be +able to devote more attention to them.’<br> +<br> +After some further conversation, the subjects being, if I remember right, +college education, priggism, church authority, tomfoolery, and the like, +I rose and said to my host, ‘I must now leave you.’<br> +<br> +‘Whither are you going?’<br> +<br> +‘I do not know.’<br> +<br> +‘Stay here, then - you shall be welcome as many days, months, +and years as you please to stay.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you think I would hang upon another man? No, not if +he were Emperor of all the Chinas. I will now make my preparations, +and then bid you farewell.’<br> +<br> +I retired to my apartment and collected the handful of things which +I carried with me on my travels.<br> +<br> +‘I will walk a little way with you,’ said my friend on my +return.<br> +<br> +He walked with me to the park gate; neither of us said anything by the +way. When we had come upon the road, I said, ‘Farewell now; +I will not permit you to give yourself any further trouble on my account. +Receive my best thanks for your kindness; before we part, however, I +should wish to ask you a question. Do you think you shall ever +grow tired of authorship?’<br> +<br> +‘I have my fears,’ said my friend, advancing his hand to +one of the iron bars of the gate.<br> +<br> +‘Don’t touch,’ said I, ‘it is a bad habit. +I have but one word to add: should you ever grow tired of authorship +follow your first idea of getting into Parliament; you have words enough +at command; perhaps you want manner and method; but, in that case, you +must apply to a teacher, you must take lessons of a master of elocution.’<br> +<br> +‘That would never do!’ said my host; ‘I know myself +too well to think of applying for assistance to any one. Were +I to become a parliamentary orator, I should wish to be an original +one, even if not above mediocrity. What pleasure should I take +in any speech I might make, however original as to thought, provided +the gestures I employed and the very modulation of my voice were not +my own? Take lessons, indeed! why, the fellow who taught me, the +professor, might be standing in the gallery whilst I spoke; and, at +the best parts of my speech, might say to himself, “That gesture +is mine - that modulation is mine.” I could not bear the +thought of such a thing.’<br> +<br> +‘Farewell,’ said I, ‘and may you prosper. I +have nothing more to say.’<br> +<br> +I departed. At the distance of twenty yards I turned round suddenly; +my friend was just withdrawing his finger from the bar of the gate.<br> +<br> +‘He has been touching,’ said I, as I proceeded on my way; +‘I wonder what was the evil chance he wished to baffle.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXVIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Elastic step - Disconsolate party - Not the season - Mend your draught +- Good ale - Crotchet - Hammer and tongs - Schoolmaster - True Eden +life - Flaming Tinman - Twice my size - Hard at work - My poor wife +- Grey Moll - A Bible - Half-and-half - What to do - Half inclined - +In no time - On one condition - Don’t stare - Like the wind.<br> +<br> +After walking some time, I found myself on the great road, at the same +spot where I had turned aside the day before with my new-made acquaintance, +in the direction of his house. I now continued my journey as before, +towards the north. The weather, though beautiful, was much cooler +than it had been for some time past; I walked at a great rate, with +a springing and elastic step. In about two hours I came to where +a kind of cottage stood a little way back from the road, with a huge +oak before it, under the shade of which stood a little pony and a cart, +which seemed to contain various articles. I was going past - when +I saw scrawled over the door of the cottage, ‘Good beer sold here’; +upon which, feeling myself all of a sudden very thirsty, I determined +to go in and taste the beverage.<br> +<br> +I entered a well-sanded kitchen, and seated myself on a bench, on one +side of a long white table; the other side, which was nearest to the +wall, was occupied by a party, or rather family, consisting of a grimy-looking +man, somewhat under the middle size, dressed in faded velveteens, and +wearing a leather apron - a rather pretty-looking woman, but sun-burnt, +and meanly dressed, and two ragged children, a boy and girl, about four +or five years old. The man sat with his eyes fixed upon the table, +supporting his chin with both his hands; the woman, who was next him, +sat quite still, save that occasionally she turned a glance upon her +husband with eyes that appeared to have been lately crying. The +children had none of the vivacity so general at their age. A more +disconsolate family I had never seen; a mug, which, when filled, might +contain half a pint, stood empty before them; a very disconsolate party +indeed.<br> +<br> +‘House!’ said I; ‘House!’ and then, as nobody +appeared, I cried again as loud as I could, ‘House! do you hear +me, House!’<br> +<br> +‘What’s your pleasure, young man?’ said an elderly +woman, who now made her appearance from a side apartment.<br> +<br> +‘To taste your ale,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘How much?’ said the woman, stretching out her hand towards +the empty mug upon the table.<br> +<br> +‘The largest measure-full in your house,’ said I, putting +back her hand gently. ‘This is not the season for half-pint +mugs.’<br> +<br> +‘As you will, young man,’ said the landlady; and presently +brought in an earthen pitcher which might contain about three pints, +and which foamed and frothed withal.<br> +<br> +‘Will this pay for it?’ said I, putting down sixpence.<br> +<br> +‘I have to return you a penny,’ said the landlady, putting +her hand into her pocket.<br> +<br> +‘I want no change,’ said I, flourishing my hand with an +air.<br> +<br> +‘As you please, young gentleman,’ said the landlady, and +then, making a kind of curtsey, she again retired to the side apartment.<br> +<br> +‘Here is your health, sir,’ said I to the grimy-looking +man, as I raised the pitcher to my lips.<br> +<br> +The tinker, for such I supposed him to be, without altering his posture, +raised his eyes, looked at me for a moment, gave a slight nod, and then +once more fixed his eyes upon the table. I took a draught of the +ale, which I found excellent; ‘Won’t you drink?’ said +I, holding the pitcher to the tinker.<br> +<br> +The man again lifted up his eyes, looked at me, and then at the pitcher, +and then at me again. I thought at one time that he was about +to shake his head in sign of refusal; but no, he looked once more at +the pitcher, and the temptation was too strong. Slowly removing +his head from his arms, he took the pitcher, sighed, nodded, and drank +a tolerable quantity, and then set the pitcher down before me upon the +table.<br> +<br> +‘You had better mend your draught,’ said I to the tinker; +‘it is a sad heart that never rejoices.’<br> +<br> +‘That’s true,’ said the tinker, and again raising +the pitcher to his lips, he mended his draught as I had bidden him, +drinking a larger quantity than before.<br> +<br> +‘Pass it to your wife,’ said I.<br> +<br> +The poor woman took the pitcher from the man’s hand; before, however, +raising it to her lips, she looked at the children. True mother’s +heart, thought I to myself, and taking the half-pint mug, I made her +fill it, and then held it to the children, causing each to take a draught. +The woman wiped her eyes with the corner of her gown, before she raised +the pitcher and drank to my health.<br> +<br> +In about five minutes none of the family looked half so disconsolate +as before, and the tinker and I were in deep discourse.<br> +<br> +Oh, genial and gladdening is the power of good ale, the true and proper +drink of Englishmen. He is not deserving of the name of Englishman +who speaketh against ale, that is good ale, like that which has just +made merry the hearts of this poor family; and yet there are beings, +calling themselves Englishmen, who say that it is a sin to drink a cup +of ale, and who, on coming to this passage will be tempted to fling +down the book and exclaim, ‘The man is evidently a bad man, for +behold, by his own confession, he is not only fond of ale himself, but +is in the habit of tempting other people with it.’ Alas! +alas! what a number of silly individuals there are in this world; I +wonder what they would have had me do in this instance - given the afflicted +family a cup of cold water? go to! They could have found water +in the road, for there was a pellucid spring only a few yards distant +from the house, as they were well aware - but they wanted not water; +what should I have given them? meat and bread? go to! They were +not hungry; there was stifled sobbing in their bosoms, and the first +mouthful of strong meat would have choked them. What should I +have given them? Money! what right had I to insult them by offering +them money? Advice! words, words, words; friends, there is a time +for everything; there is a time for a cup of cold water; there is a +time for strong meat and bread; there is a time for advice, and there +is a time for ale; and I have generally found that the time for advice +is after a cup of ale. I do not say many cups; the tongue then +speaketh more smoothly, and the ear listeneth more benignantly; but +why do I attempt to reason with you? do I not know you for conceited +creatures, with one idea - and that a foolish one; - a crotchet, for +the sake of which ye would sacrifice anything, religion if required +- country? There, fling down my book, I do not wish ye to walk +any farther in my company, unless you cast your nonsense away, which +ye will never do, for it is the breath of your nostrils; fling down +my book, it was not written to support a crotchet, for know one thing, +my good people, I have invariably been an enemy to humbug.<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said the tinker, after we had discoursed some time, +‘little thought, when I first saw you, that you were of my own +trade.’<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Nor am I, at least not exactly. There is +not much difference, ’tis true, between a tinker and a smith.<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. You are a whitesmith then?<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Not I, I’d scorn to be anything so mean; +no, friend, black’s the colour; I am a brother of the horse-shoe. +Success to the hammer and tongs.<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. Well, I shouldn’t have thought you had been +a blacksmith by your hands.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. I have seen them, however, as black as yours. +The truth is, I have not worked for many a day.<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. Where did you serve first?<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. In Ireland.<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. That’s a good way off, isn’t it?<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Not very far; over those mountains to the left, +and the run of salt water that lies behind them, there’s Ireland.<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. It’s a fine thing to be a scholar.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Not half so fine as to be a tinker.<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. How you talk!<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Nothing but the truth; what can be better than +to be one’s own master? Now a tinker is his own master, +a scholar is not. Let us suppose the best of scholars, a schoolmaster +for example, for I suppose you will admit that no one can be higher +in scholarship than a schoolmaster; do you call his a pleasant life? +I don’t; we should call him a school-slave, rather than a schoolmaster. +Only conceive him in blessed weather like this, in his close school, +teaching children to write in copy-books, ‘Evil communication +corrupts good manners,’ or ‘You cannot touch pitch without +defilement,’ or to spell out of Abedariums, or to read out of +Jack Smith, or Sandford and Merton. Only conceive him, I say, +drudging in such guise from morning till night, without any rational +enjoyment but to beat the children. Would you compare such a dog’s +life as that with your own - the happiest under heaven - true Eden life, +as the Germans would say, - pitching your tent under the pleasant hedgerows, +listening to the song of the feathered tribes, collecting all the leaky +kettles in the neighbourhood, soldering and joining, earning your honest +bread by the wholesome sweat of your brow - making ten holes - hey, +what’s this? what’s the man crying for?<br> +<br> +Suddenly the tinker had covered his face with his hands, and begun to +sob and moan like a man in the deepest distress; the breast of his wife +was heaved with emotion; even the children were agitated, the youngest +began to roar.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. What’s the matter with you; what are you +all crying about?<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i> (uncovering his face). Lord, why to hear you talk; +isn’t that enough to make anybody cry - even the poor babes? +Yes, you said right, ’tis life in the garden of Eden - the tinker’s; +I see so now that I’m about to give it up.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Give it up! you must not think of such a thing.<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. No, I can’t bear to think of it, and yet +I must; what’s to be done? How hard to be frightened to +death, to be driven off the roads.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Who has driven you off the roads?<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. Who! the Flaming Tinman.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Who is he?<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. The biggest rogue in England, and the cruellest, +or he wouldn’t have served me as he has done - I’ll tell +you all about it. I was born upon the roads, and so was my father +before me, and my mother too; and I worked with them as long as they +lived, as a dutiful child, for I have nothing to reproach myself with +on their account; and when my father died I took up the business, and +went his beat, and supported my mother for the little time she lived; +and when she died I married this young woman, who was not born upon +the roads, but was a small tradesman’s daughter, at Gloster. +She had a kindness for me, and, notwithstanding her friends were against +the match, she married the poor tinker, and came to live with him upon +the roads. Well, young man, for six or seven years I - as the +happiest fellow breathing, living just the life you described just now +- respected by everybody in this beat; when in an evil hour comes this +Black Jack, this flaming tinman, into these parts, driven as they say +out of Yorkshire - for no good you may be sure. Now there is no +beat will support two tinkers, as you doubtless know; mine was a good +one, but it would not support the flying tinker and myself, though if +it would have supported twenty it would have been all the same to the +flying villain, who’ll brook no one but himself; so he presently +finds me out, and offers to fight me for the beat. Now, being +bred upon the roads, I can fight a little, that is with anything like +my match, but I was not going to fight him, who happens to be twice +my size, and so I told him; whereupon he knocks me down, and would have +done me farther mischief had not some men been nigh and prevented him; +so he threatened to cut my throat, and went his way. Well, I did +not like such usage at all, and was woundily frightened, and tried to +keep as much out of his way as possible, going anywhere but where I +thought I was likely to meet him; and sure enough for several months +I contrived to keep out of his way. At last somebody told me that +he was gone back to Yorkshire, whereupon I was glad at heart, and ventured +to show myself, going here and there as I did before. Well, young +man, it was yesterday that I and mine set ourselves down in a lane, +about five miles from here, and lighted our fire, and had our dinner, +and after dinner I sat down to mend three kettles and a frying pan which +the people in the neighbourhood had given me to mend - for, as I told +you before, I have a good connection, owing to my honesty. Well, +as I sat there hard at work, happy as the day’s long, and thinking +of anything but what was to happen, who should come up but this Black +Jack, this king of the tinkers, rattling along in his cart, with his +wife, that they call Grey Moll, by his side - for the villain has got +a wife, and a maid-servant too; the last I never saw, but they that +has, says that she is as big as a house, and young, and well to look +at, which can’t be all said of Moll, who, though she’s big +enough in all conscience, is neither young nor handsome. Well, +no sooner does he see me and mine, than, giving the reins to Grey Moll, +he springs out of his cart, and comes straight at me; not a word did +he say, but on he comes straight at me like a wild bull. I am +a quiet man, young fellow, but I saw now that quietness would be of +no use, so I sprang up upon my legs, and being bred upon the roads, +and able to fight a little, I squared as he came running in upon me, +and had a round or two with him. Lord bless you, young man, it +was like a fly fighting with an elephant - one of those big beasts the +show-folks carry about. I had not a chance with the fellow, he +knocked me here, he knocked me there, knocked me into the hedge, and +knocked me out again. I was at my last shifts, and my poor wife +saw it. Now my poor wife, though she is as gentle as a pigeon, +has yet a spirit of her own, and though she wasn’t bred upon the +roads, can scratch a little; so when she saw me at my last shifts, she +flew at the villain - she couldn’t bear to see her partner murdered +- and scratched the villain’s face. Lord bless you, young +man, she had better have been quiet: Grey Moll no sooner saw what she +was about, than, springing out of the cart, where she had sat all along +perfectly quiet, save a little whooping and screeching to encourage +her blade:- Grey Moll, I say (my flesh creeps when I think of it - for +I am a kind husband, and love my poor wife) . . .<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Take another draught of the ale; you look frightened, +and it will do you good. Stout liquor makes stout heart, as the +man says in the play.<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. That’s true, young man; here’s to you +- where was I? Grey Moll no sooner saw what my wife was about, +than, springing out of the cart, she flew at my poor wife, clawed off +her bonnet in a moment, and seized hold of her hair. Lord bless +you, young man, my poor wife, in the hands of Grey Moll, was nothing +better than a pigeon in the claws of a buzzard hawk, or I in the hands +of the Flaming Tinman, which when I saw, my heart was fit to burst, +and I determined to give up everything - everything to save my poor +wife out of Grey Moll’s claws. ‘Hold!’ I shouted. +‘Hold, both of you - Jack, Moll. Hold, both of you, for +God’s sake, and I’ll do what you will: give up trade, and +business, connection, bread, and everything, never more travel the roads, +and go down on my knees to you in the bargain.’ Well, this +had some effect; Moll let go my wife, and the Blazing Tinman stopped +for a moment; it was only for a moment, however, that he left off - +all of a sudden he hit me a blow which sent me against a tree; and what +did the villain then? why the flying villain seized me by the throat, +and almost throttled me, roaring - what do you think, young man, that +the flaming villain roared out?<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. I really don’t know - something horrible, +I suppose.<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. Horrible, indeed; you may well say horrible, young +man; neither more nor less than the Bible - ‘A Bible, a Bible!’ +roared the Blazing Tinman; and he pressed my throat so hard against +the tree that my senses began to dwaul away - a Bible, a Bible, still +ringing in my ears. Now, young man, my poor wife is a Christian +woman, and, though she travels the roads, carries a Bible with her at +the bottom of her sack, with which sometimes she teaches the children +to read - it was the only thing she brought with her from the place +of her kith and kin, save her own body and the clothes on her back; +so my poor wife, half distracted, runs to her sack, pulls out the Bible, +and puts it into the hand of the Blazing Tinman, who then thrusts the +end of it into my mouth with such fury that it made my lips bleed, and +broke short one of my teeth which happened to be decayed. ‘Swear,’ +said he, ‘swear, you mumping villain, take your Bible oath that +you will quit and give up the beat altogether, or I’ll - and then +the hard-hearted villain made me swear by the Bible, and my own damnation, +half-throttled as I was, to - to - I can’t go on -<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Take another draught - stout liquor -<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. I can’t, young man, my heart’s too +full, and what’s more, the pitcher is empty.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. And so he swore you, I suppose, on the Bible, to +quit the roads?<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. You are right, he did so, the gypsy villain.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Gypsy! Is he a gypsy?<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. Not exactly; what they call a half-and-half. +His father was a gypsy, and his mother, like mine, one who walked the +roads.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Is he of the Smiths - the Petulengres?<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. I say, young man, you know a thing or two; one +would think, to hear you talk, you had been bred upon the roads. +I thought none but those bred upon the roads knew anything of that name +- Petulengres! No, not he, he fights the Petulengres whenever +he meets them; he likes nobody but himself, and wants to be king of +the roads. I believe he is a Boss, or a - at any rate he’s +a bad one, as I know to my cost.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. And what are you going to do?<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. Do! you may well ask that; I don’t know what +to do. My poor wife and I have been talking of that all the morning, +over that half-pint mug of beer; we can’t determine on what’s +to be done. All we know is, that we must quit the roads. +The villain swore that the next time he saw us on the roads he’d +cut all our throats, and seize our horse and bit of a cart that are +now standing out there under the tree.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. And what do you mean to do with your horse and +cart?<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. Another question! What shall we do with our +cart and pony? they are of no use to us now. Stay on the roads +I will not, both for my oath’s sake and my own. If we had +a trifle of money, we were thinking of going to Bristol, where I might +get up a little business, but we have none; our last three farthings +we spent about the mug of beer.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. But why don’t you sell your horse and cart?<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. Sell them! and who would buy them, unless some +one who wished to set up in my line; but there’s no beat, and +what’s the use of the horse and cart and the few tools without +the beat?<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. I’m half inclined to buy your cart and pony, +and your beat too.<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. You! How came you to think of such a thing?<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Why, like yourself, I hardly know what to do. +I want a home and work. As for a home, I suppose I can contrive +to make a home out of your tent and cart; and as for work, I must learn +to be a tinker, it would not be hard for one of my trade to learn to +tinker; what better can I do? Would you have me go to Chester +and work there now? I don’t like the thoughts of it. +If I go to Chester and work there, I can’t be my own man; I must +work under a master, and perhaps he and I should quarrel, and when I +quarrel I am apt to hit folks, and those that hit folks are sometimes +sent to prison; I don’t like the thought either of going to Chester +or to Chester prison. What do you think I could earn at Chester?<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. A matter of eleven shillings a week, if anybody +would employ you, which I don’t think they would with those hands +of yours. But whether they would or not, if you are of a quarrelsome +nature you must not go to Chester; you would be in the castle in no +time. I don’t know how to advise you. As for selling +you my stock, I’d see you farther first, for your own sake.<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Why?<br> +<br> +<i>Tinker</i>. Why! you would get your head knocked off. +Suppose you were to meet him?<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Pooh, don’t be afraid on my account; if I +were to meet him I could easily manage him one way or other. I +know all kinds of strange words and names, and, as I told you before, +I sometimes hit people when they put me out.<br> +<br> +Here the tinker’s wife, who for some minutes past had been listening +attentively to our discourse, interposed, saying, in a low soft tone: +‘I really don’t see, John, why you shouldn’t sell +the young man the things, seeing that he wishes for them, and is so +confident; you have told him plainly how matters stand, and if anything +ill should befall him, people couldn’t lay the blame on you; but +I don’t think any ill will befall him, and who knows but God has +sent him to our assistance in time of need?’<br> +<br> +‘I’ll hear of no such thing,’ said the tinker; ‘I +have drunk at the young man’s expense, and though he says he’s +quarrelsome, I would not wish to sit in pleasanter company. A +pretty fellow I should be, now, if I were to let him follow his own +will. If he once sets up on my beat, he’s a lost man, his +ribs will be stove in, and his head knocked off his shoulders. +There, you are crying, but you shan’t have your will though; I +won’t be the young man’s destruction . . . If, indeed, I +thought he could manage the tinker - but he never can; he says he can +hit, but it’s no use hitting the tinker, - crying still! you are +enough to drive one mad. I say, young man, I believe you understand +a thing or two, just now you were talking of knowing hard words and +names - I don’t wish to send you to your mischief - you say you +know hard words and names; let us see. Only on one condition I’ll +sell you the pony and things; as for the beat it’s gone, isn’t +mine - sworn away by my own mouth. Tell me what’s my name; +if you can’t, may I - ’<br> +<br> +<i>Myself</i>. Don’t swear, it’s a bad habit, neither +pleasant nor profitable. Your name is Slingsby - Jack Slingsby. +There, don’t stare, there’s nothing in my telling you your +name: I’ve been in these parts before, at least not very far from +here. Ten years ago, when I was little more than a child, I was +about twenty miles from here in a post-chaise, at the door of an inn, +and as I looked from the window of the chaise, I saw you standing by +a gutter, with a big tin ladle in your hand, and somebody called you +Jack Slingsby. I never forget anything I hear or see; I can’t, +I wish I could. So there’s nothing strange in my knowing +your name; indeed, there’s nothing strange in anything, provided +you examine it to the bottom. Now what am I to give you for the +things?<br> +<br> +I paid Slingsby five pounds ten shillings for his stock in trade, cart, +and pony - purchased sundry provisions of the landlady, also a wagoner’s +frock, which had belonged to a certain son of hers, deceased, gave my +little animal a feed of corn, and prepared to depart.<br> +<br> +‘God bless you, young man,’ said Slingsby, shaking me by +the hand; ‘you are the best friend I’ve had for many a day: +I have but one thing to tell you, Don’t cross that fellow’s +path if you can help it; and stay - should the pony refuse to go, just +touch him so, and he’ll fly like the wind.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXIX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Effects of corn - One night longer - The hoofs - A stumble - Are you +hurt? - What a difference - Drowsy - Maze of bushes - Housekeeping - +Sticks and furze - The driftway - Account of stock - Anvil and bellows +- Twenty years.<br> +<br> +It was two or three hours past noon when I took my departure from the +place of the last adventure, walking by the side of my little cart; +the pony, invigorated by the corn, to which he was probably not much +accustomed, proceeded right gallantly; so far from having to hasten +him forward by the particular application which the tinker had pointed +out to me, I had rather to repress his eagerness, being, though an excellent +pedestrian, not unfrequently left behind. The country through +which I passed was beautiful and interesting, but solitary; few habitations +appeared. As it was quite a matter of indifference to me in what +direction I went, the whole world being before me, I allowed the pony +to decide upon the matter; it was not long before he left the high-road, +being probably no friend to public places. I followed him I knew +not whither, but, from subsequent observation, have reason to suppose +that our course was in a north-west direction. At length night +came upon us, and a cold wind sprang up, which was succeeded by a drizzling +rain.<br> +<br> +I had originally intended to pass the night in the cart, or to pitch +my little tent on some convenient spot by the road’s side; but, +owing to the alteration in the weather, I thought that it would be advisable +to take up my quarters in any hedge alehouse at which I might arrive. +To tell the truth, I was not very sorry to have an excuse to pass the +night once more beneath a roof. I had determined to live quite +independent, but I had never before passed a night by myself abroad, +and felt a little apprehensive at the idea; I hoped, however, on the +morrow, to be a little more prepared for the step, so I determined for +one night - only for one night longer - to sleep like a Christian; but +human determinations are not always put into effect, such a thing as +opportunity is frequently wanting, such was the case here. I went +on for a considerable time, in expectation of coming to some rustic +hostelry, but nothing of the kind presented itself to my eyes; the country +in which I now was seemed almost uninhabited, not a house of any kind +was to be seen - at least I saw none - though it is true houses might +be near without my seeing them, owing to the darkness of the night, +for neither moon nor star was abroad. I heard, occasionally, the +bark of dogs; but the sound appeared to come from an immense distance. +The rain still fell, and the ground beneath my feet was wet and miry; +in short, it was a night in which even a tramper by profession would +feel more comfortable in being housed than abroad. I followed +in the rear of the cart, the pony still proceeding at a sturdy pace, +till methought I heard other hoofs than those of my own nag; I listened +for a moment, and distinctly heard the sound of hoofs approaching at +a great rate, and evidently from the quarter towards which I and my +little caravan were moving. We were in a dark lane - so dark that +it was impossible for me to see my own hand. Apprehensive that +some accident might occur, I ran forward, and, seizing the pony by the +bridle, drew him as near as I could to the hedge. On came the +hoofs - trot, trot, trot; and evidently more than those of one horse; +their speed as they advanced appeared to slacken - it was only, however, +for a moment. I heard a voice cry, ‘Push on, - this is a +desperate robbing place, - never mind the dark’; and the hoofs +came on quicker than before. ‘Stop!’ said I, at the +top of my voice; ‘stop! or - ’ Before I could finish +what I was about to say there was a stumble, a heavy fall, a cry, and +a groan, and putting out my foot I felt what I conjectured to be the +head of a horse stretched upon the road. ‘Lord have mercy +upon us! what’s the matter?’ exclaimed a voice. ‘Spare +my life,’ cried another voice, apparently from the ground; ‘only +spare my life, and take all I have.’ ‘Where are you, +Master Wise?’ cried the other voice. ‘Help! here, +Master Bat,’ cried the voice from the ground; ‘help me up +or I shall be murdered.’ ‘Why, what’s the matter?’ +said Bat. ‘Some one has knocked me down, and is robbing +me,’ said the voice from the ground. ‘Help! murder!’ +cried Bat; and, regardless of the entreaties of the man on the ground +that he would stay and help him up, he urged his horse forward and galloped +away as fast as he could. I remained for some time quiet, listening +to various groans and exclamations uttered by the person on the ground; +at length I said, ‘Holloa! are you hurt?’ ‘Spare +my life, and take all I have!’ said the voice from the ground. +‘Have they not done robbing you yet?’ said I; ‘when +they have finished let me know, and I will come and help you.’ +‘Who is that?’ said the voice; ‘pray come and help +me, and do me no mischief.’ ‘You were saying that +some one was robbing you,’ said I; ‘don’t think I +shall come till he is gone away.’ ‘Then you ben’t +he?’ said the voice. ‘Aren’t you robbed?’ +said I. ‘Can’t say I be,’ said the voice; ‘not +yet at any rate; but who are you? I don’t know you.’ +‘A traveller whom you and your partner were going to run over +in this dark lane; you almost frightened me out of my senses.’ +‘Frightened!’ said the voice, in a louder tone; ‘frightened! +oh!’ and thereupon I heard somebody getting upon his legs. +This accomplished, the individual proceeded to attend to his horse, +and with a little difficulty raised him upon his legs also. ‘Aren’t +you hurt?’ said I. ‘Hurt!’ said the voice; ‘not +I; don’t think it, whatever the horse may be. I tell you +what, my fellow, I thought you were a robber, and now I find you are +not; I have a good mind - ’ ‘To do what?’ +‘To serve you out; aren’t you ashamed - ?’ ‘At +what?’ said I; ‘not to have robbed you? Shall I set +about it now?’ ‘Ha, ha!’ said the man, dropping +the bullying tone which he had assumed; ‘you are joking - robbing! +who talks of robbing? I wonder how my horse’s knees are; +not much hurt, I think - only mired.’ The man, whoever he +was, then got upon his horse; and, after moving him about a little, +said, ‘Good night, friend; where are you?’ ‘Here +I am,’ said I, ‘just behind you.’ ‘You +are, are you? Take that.’ I know not what he did, +but probably pricking his horse with the spur the animal kicked out +violently; one of his heels struck me on the shoulder, but luckily missed +my face; I fell back with the violence of the blow, whilst the fellow +scampered off at a great rate. Stopping at some distance, he loaded +me with abuse, and then, continuing his way at a rapid trot, I heard +no more of him.<br> +<br> +‘What a difference!’ said I, getting up; ‘last night +I was fêted in the hall of a rich genius, and to-night I am knocked +down and mired in a dark lane by the heel of Master Wise’s horse +- I wonder who gave him that name? And yet he was wise enough +to wreak his revenge upon me, and I was not wise enough to keep out +of his way. Well, I am not much hurt, so it is of little consequence.’<br> +<br> +I now bethought me that, as I had a carriage of my own, I might as well +make use of it; I therefore got into the cart, and, taking the reins +in my hand, gave an encouraging cry to the pony, whereupon the sturdy +little animal started again at as brisk a pace as if he had not already +come many a long mile. I lay half reclining in the cart, holding +the reins lazily, and allowing the animal to go just where he pleased, +often wondering where he would conduct me. At length I felt drowsy, +and my head sank upon my breast; I soon aroused myself, but it was only +to doze again; this occurred several times. Opening my eyes after +a doze somewhat longer than the others, I found that the drizzling rain +had ceased, a corner of the moon was apparent in the heavens, casting +a faint light; I looked around for a moment or two, but my eyes and +brain were heavy with slumber, and I could scarcely distinguish where +we were. I had a kind of dim consciousness that we were traversing +an uninclosed country - perhaps a heath; I thought, however, that I +saw certain large black objects looming in the distance, which I had +a confused idea might be woods or plantations; the pony still moved +at his usual pace. I did not find the jolting of the cart at all +disagreeable, on the contrary, it had quite a somniferous effect upon +me. Again my eyes closed; I opened them once more, but with less +perception in them than before, looked forward, and, muttering something +about woodlands, I placed myself in an easier posture than I had hitherto +done, and fairly fell asleep.<br> +<br> +How long I continued in that state I am unable to say, but I believe +for a considerable time; I was suddenly awakened by the ceasing of the +jolting to which I had become accustomed, and of which I was perfectly +sensible in my sleep. I started up and looked around me, the moon +was still shining, and the face of the heaven was studded with stars; +I found myself amidst a maze of bushes of various kinds, but principally +hazel and holly, through which was a path or driftway with grass growing +on either side, upon which the pony was already diligently browsing. +I conjectured that this place had been one of the haunts of his former +master, and, on dismounting and looking about, was strengthened in that +opinion by finding a spot under an ash tree which, from its burnt and +blackened appearance, seemed to have been frequently used as a fireplace. +I will take up my quarters here, thought I; it is an excellent spot +for me to commence my new profession in; I was quite right to trust +myself to the guidance of the pony. Unharnessing the animal without +delay, I permitted him to browse at free will on the grass, convinced +that he would not wander far from a place to which he was so much attached; +I then pitched the little tent close beside the ash tree to which I +have alluded, and conveyed two or three articles into it, and instantly +felt that I had commenced housekeeping for the first time in my life. +Housekeeping, however, without a fire is a very sorry affair, something +like the housekeeping of children in their toy houses; of this I was +the more sensible from feeling very cold and shivering, owing to my +late exposure to the rain, and sleeping in the night air. Collecting, +therefore, all the dry sticks and furze I could find, I placed them +upon the fireplace, adding certain chips and a billet which I found +in the cart, it having apparently been the habit of Slingsby to carry +with him a small store of fuel. Having then struck a spark in +a tinder-box and lighted a match, I set fire to the combustible heap, +and was not slow in raising a cheerful blaze; I then drew my cart near +the fire, and, seating myself on one of the shafts, hung over the warmth +with feelings of intense pleasure and satisfaction. Having continued +in this posture for a considerable time, I turned my eyes to the heaven +in the direction of a particular star; I, however, could not find the +star, nor indeed many of the starry train, the greater number having +fled, from which circumstance, and from the appearance of the sky, I +concluded that morning was nigh. About this time I again began +to feel drowsy; I therefore arose, and having prepared for myself a +kind of couch in the tent, I flung myself upon it and went to sleep.<br> +<br> +I will not say that I was awakened in the morning by the carolling of +birds, as I perhaps might if I were writing a novel; I awoke because, +to use vulgar language, I had slept my sleep out, not because the birds +were carolling around me in numbers, as they had probably been for hours +without my hearing them. I got up and left my tent; the morning +was yet more bright than that of the preceding day. Impelled by +curiosity, I walked about endeavouring to ascertain to what place chance, +or rather the pony, had brought me; following the driftway for some +time, amidst bushes and stunted trees, I came to a grove of dark pines, +through which it appeared to lead; I tracked it a few hundred yards, +but seeing nothing but trees, and the way being wet and sloughy, owing +to the recent rain, I returned on my steps, and, pursuing the path in +another direction, came to a sandy road leading over a common, doubtless +the one I had traversed the preceding night. My curiosity satisfied, +I returned to my little encampment, and on the way beheld a small footpath +on the left winding through the bushes, which had before escaped my +observation. Having reached my tent and cart, I breakfasted on +some of the provisions which I had procured the day before, and then +proceeded to take a regular account of the stock formerly possessed +by Slingsby the tinker, but now become my own by right of lawful purchase.<br> +<br> +Besides the pony, the cart, and the tent, I found I was possessed of +a mattress stuffed with straw on which to lie, and a blanket to cover +me, the last quite clean and nearly new; then there was a frying-pan +and a kettle, the first for cooking any food which required cooking, +and the second for heating any water which I might wish to heat. +I likewise found an earthen teapot and two or three cups; of the first +I should rather say I found the remains, it being broken in three parts, +no doubt since it came into my possession, which would have precluded +the possibility of my asking anybody to tea for the present, should +anybody visit me, even supposing I had tea and sugar, which was not +the case. I then overhauled what might more strictly be called +the stock in trade; this consisted of various tools, an iron ladle, +a chafing-pan and small bellows, sundry pans and kettles, the latter +being of tin, with the exception of one which was of copper, all in +a state of considerable dilapidation - if I may use the term; of these +first Slingsby had spoken in particular, advising me to mend them as +soon as possible, and to endeavour to sell them, in order that I might +have the satisfaction of receiving some return upon the outlay which +I had made. There was likewise a small quantity of block tin, +sheet tin, and solder. ‘This Slingsby,’ said I, ‘is +certainly a very honest man, he has sold me more than my money’s +worth; I believe, however, there is something more in the cart.’ +Thereupon I rummaged the farther end of the cart, and, amidst a quantity +of straw, I found a small anvil and bellows of that kind which are used +in forges, and two hammers such as smiths use, one great, and the other +small.<br> +<br> +The sight of these last articles caused me no little surprise, as no +word which had escaped from the mouth of Slingsby had given me reason +to suppose that he had ever followed the occupation of a smith; yet, +if he had not, how did he come by them? I sat down upon the shaft, +and pondered the question deliberately in my mind; at length I concluded +that he had come by them by one of those numerous casualties which occur +upon the roads, of which I, being a young hand upon the roads, must +have a very imperfect conception; honestly, of course - for I scouted +the idea that Slingsby would have stolen this blacksmith’s gear +- for I had the highest opinion of his honesty, which opinion I still +retain at the present day, which is upwards of twenty years from the +time of which I am speaking, during the whole of which period I have +neither seen the poor fellow nor received any intelligence of him.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +New profession - Beautiful night - Jupiter - Sharp and shrill - The +Rommany chi - All alone - Three-and-sixpence - What is Rommany? +Be civil - Parraco tute - Slight start - She will be grateful - The +rustling.<br> +<br> +I passed the greater part of the day in endeavouring to teach myself +the mysteries of my new profession. I cannot say that I was very +successful, but the time passed agreeably, and was therefore not ill +spent. Towards evening I flung my work aside, took some refreshment, +and afterwards a walk.<br> +<br> +This time I turned up the small footpath of which I have already spoken. +It led in a zigzag manner through thickets of hazel, elder, and sweet-brier; +after following its windings for somewhat better than a furlong, I heard +a gentle sound of water, and presently came to a small rill, which ran +directly across the path. I was rejoiced at the sight, for I had +already experienced the want of water, which I yet knew must be nigh +at hand, as I was in a place to all appearance occasionally frequented +by wandering people, who I was aware never take up their quarters in +places where water is difficult to be obtained. Forthwith I stretched +myself on the ground, and took a long and delicious draught of the crystal +stream, and then, seating myself in a bush, I continued for some time +gazing on the water as it purled tinkling away in its channel through +an opening in the hazels, and should have probably continued much longer +had not the thought that I had left my property unprotected compelled +me to rise and return to my encampment.<br> +<br> +Night came on, and a beautiful night it was; up rose the moon, and innumerable +stars decked the firmament of heaven. I sat on the shaft, my eyes +turned upwards. I had found it: there it was twinkling millions +of miles above me, mightiest star of the system to which we belong: +of all stars the one which has most interest for me - the star Jupiter.<br> +<br> +Why have I always taken an interest in thee, O Jupiter? I know +nothing about thee, save what every child knows, that thou art a big +star, whose only light is derived from moons. And is not that +knowledge enough to make me feel an interest in thee? Ay, truly; +I never look at thee without wondering what is going on in thee; what +is life in Jupiter? That there is life in Jupiter who can doubt? +There is life in our own little star, therefore there must be life in +Jupiter, which is not a little star. But how different must life +be in Jupiter from what it is in our own little star! Life here +is life beneath the dear sun - life in Jupiter is life beneath moons +- four moons - no single moon is able to illumine that vast bulk. +All know what life is in our own little star; it is anything but a routine +of happiness here, where the dear sun rises to us every day: then how +sad and moping must life be in mighty Jupiter, on which no sun ever +shines, and which is never lighted save by pale moonbeams! The +thought that there is more sadness and melancholy in Jupiter than in +this world of ours, where, alas! there is but too much, has always made +me take a melancholy interest in that huge distant star.<br> +<br> +Two or three days passed by in much the same manner as the first. +During the morning I worked upon my kettles, and employed the remaining +part of the day as I best could. The whole of this time I only +saw two individuals, rustics, who passed by my encampment without vouchsafing +me a glance; they probably considered themselves my superiors, as perhaps +they were.<br> +<br> +One very brilliant morning, as I sat at work in very good spirits, for +by this time I had actually mended in a very creditable way, as I imagined, +two kettles and a frying-pan, I heard a voice which seemed to proceed +from the path leading to the rivulet; at first it sounded from a considerable +distance, but drew nearer by degrees. I soon remarked that the +tones were exceedingly sharp and shrill, with yet something of childhood +in them. Once or twice I distinguished certain words in the song +which the voice was singing; the words were - but no, I thought again +I was probably mistaken - and then the voice ceased for a time; presently +I heard it again, close to the entrance of the footpath; in another +moment I heard it in the lane or glade in which stood my tent, where +it abruptly stopped, but not before I had heard the very words which +I at first thought I had distinguished.<br> +<br> +I turned my head; at the entrance of the footpath, which might be about +thirty yards from the place where I was sitting, I perceived the figure +of a young girl; her face was turned towards me, and she appeared to +be scanning me and my encampment; after a little time she looked in +the other direction, only for a moment, however; probably observing +nothing in that quarter, she again looked towards me, and almost immediately +stepped forward; and, as she advanced, sang the song which I had heard +in the wood, the first words of which were those which I have already +alluded to.<br> +<br> +<br> +‘The Rommany chi<br> +And the Rommany chal<br> +Shall jaw tasaulor<br> +To drab the bawlor,<br> +And dook the gry<br> +Of the farming rye.’<br> +<br> +<br> +A very pretty song, thought I, falling again hard to work upon my kettle; +a very pretty song, which bodes the farmers much good. Let them +look to their cattle.<br> +<br> +‘All alone here, brother?’ said a voice close by me, in +sharp but not disagreeable tones.<br> +<br> +I made no answer, but continued my work, click, click, with the gravity +which became one of my profession. I allowed at least half a minute +to elapse before I even lifted up my eyes.<br> +<br> +A girl of about thirteen was standing before me; her features were very +pretty, but with a peculiar expression; her complexion was a clear olive, +and her jet black hair hung back upon her shoulders. She was rather +scantily dressed, and her arms and feet were bare; round her neck, however, +was a handsome string of corals, with ornaments of gold; in her hand +she held a bulrush.<br> +<br> +‘All alone here, brother?’ said the girl, as I looked up; +‘all alone here, in the lane; where are your wife and children?’<br> +<br> +‘Why do you call me brother?’ said I; ‘am no brother +of yours. Do you take me for one of your people? I am no +gypsy; not I, indeed!’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t be afraid, brother, you are no Roman - Roman indeed, +you are not handsome enough to be a Roman; not black enough, tinker +though you be. If I called you brother, it was because I didn’t +know what else to call you. Marry, come up, brother, I should +be sorry to have you for a brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Then you don’t like me?’<br> +<br> +‘Neither like you nor dislike you, brother; what will you have +for that kekaubi?’<br> +<br> +‘What’s the use of talking to me in that unchristian way; +what do you mean, young gentlewoman?’<br> +<br> +‘Lord, brother, what a fool you are; every tinker knows what a +kekaubi is. I was asking you what you would have for that kettle.’<br> +<br> +‘Three-and-sixpence, young gentlewoman; isn’t it well mended?’<br> +<br> +‘Well mended! I could have done it better myself; three-and-sixpence! +it’s only fit to be played at football with.’<br> +<br> +‘I will take no less for it, young gentlewoman; it has caused +me a world of trouble.’<br> +<br> +‘I never saw a worse mended kettle. I say, brother, your +hair is white.’<br> +<br> +‘’Tis nature; your hair is black; nature, nothing but nature.’<br> +<br> +‘I am young, brother; my hair is black - that’s nature: +you are young, brother; your hair is white - that’s not nature.’<br> +<br> +‘I can’t help it if it be not, but it is nature after all; +did you never see gray hair on the young?’<br> +<br> +‘Never! I have heard it is true of a gray lad, and a bad +one he was. Oh, so bad.’<br> +<br> +‘Sit down on the grass, and tell me all about it, sister; do, +to oblige me, pretty sister.’<br> +<br> +‘Hey, brother, you don’t speak as you did - you don’t +speak like a gorgio, you speak like one of us, you call me sister.’<br> +<br> +‘As you call me brother; I am not an uncivil person after all, +sister.’<br> +<br> +‘I say, brother, tell me one thing, and look me in the face - +there - do you speak Rommany?’<br> +<br> +‘Rommany! Rommany! what is Rommany?’<br> +<br> +‘What is Rommany? our language to be sure; tell me, brother, only +one thing, you don’t speak Rommany?’<br> +<br> +‘You say it.’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t say it, I wish to know. Do you speak Rommany?’<br> +<br> +‘Do you mean thieves’ slang - cant? no, I don’t speak +cant, don’t like it, I only know a few words; they call a sixpence +a tanner, don’t they?’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t know,’ said the girl, sitting down on the +ground, ‘I was almost thinking - well, never mind, you don’t +know Rommany. I say, brother, I think I should like to have the +kekaubi.’<br> +<br> +‘I thought you said it was badly mended?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, yes, brother, but - ’<br> +<br> +‘I thought you said it was only fit to be played at football with?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, yes, brother, but - ’<br> +<br> +‘What will you give for it?’<br> +<br> +‘Brother, I am the poor person’s child, I will give you +sixpence for the kekaubi.’<br> +<br> +‘Poor person’s child; how came you by that necklace?’<br> +<br> +‘Be civil, brother; am I to have the kekaubi?’<br> +<br> +‘Not for sixpence; isn’t the kettle nicely mended?’<br> +<br> +‘I never saw a nicer mended kettle, brother; am I to have the +kekaubi, brother?’<br> +<br> +‘You like me then?’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t dislike you - I dislike no one; there’s only +one, and him I don’t dislike, him I hate.’<br> +<br> +‘Who is he?’<br> +<br> +‘I scarcely know, I never saw him, but ’tis no affair of +yours, you don’t speak Rommany; you will let me have the kekaubi, +pretty brother?’<br> +<br> +‘You may have it, but not for sixpence; I’ll give it to +you.’<br> +<br> +‘Parraco tute, that is, I thank you, brother; the rikkeni kekaubi +is now mine. O, rare! I thank you kindly, brother.’<br> +<br> +Starting up, she flung the bulrush aside which she had hitherto held +in her hand, and, seizing the kettle, she looked at it for a moment, +and then began a kind of dance, flourishing the kettle over her head +the while, and singing -<br> +<br> +<br> +‘The Rommany chi<br> +And the Rommany chal<br> +Shall jaw tasaulor<br> +To drab the bawlor,<br> +And dook the gry<br> +Of the farming rye.<br> +<br> +<br> +Good-bye, brother, I must be going.’<br> +<br> +‘Good-bye, sister; why do you sing that wicked song?’<br> +<br> +‘Wicked song, hey, brother! you don’t understand the song!’<br> +<br> +‘Ha, ha! gypsy daughter,’ said I, starting up and clapping +my hands, ‘I don’t understand Rommany, don’t I? +You shall see; here’s the answer to your gillie -<br> +<br> +<br> +‘The Rommany chi<br> +And the Rommany chal,<br> +Love Luripen<br> +And dukkeripen,<br> +And hokkeripen,<br> +And every pen<br> +But Lachipen<br> +And tatchipen.’<br> +<br> +<br> +The girl, who had given a slight start when I began, remained for some +time after I had concluded the song standing motionless as a statue, +with the kettle in her hand. At length she came towards me, and +stared me full in the face. ‘Gray, tall, and talks Rommany,’ +said she to herself. In her countenance there was an expression +which I had not seen before - an expression which struck me as being +composed of fear, curiosity, and the deepest hate. It was momentary, +however, and was succeeded by one smiling, frank, and open. ‘Ha, +ha, brother,’ said she, ‘well, I like you all the better +for talking Rommany; it is a sweet language, isn’t it? especially +as you sing it. How did you pick it up? But you picked it +up upon the roads, no doubt? Ha, it was funny in you to pretend +not to know it, and you so flush with it all the time; it was not kind +in you, however, to frighten the poor person’s child so by screaming +out, but it was kind in you to give the rikkeni kekaubi to the child +of the poor person. She will be grateful to you; she will bring +you her little dog to show you, her pretty juggal; the poor person’s +child will come and see you again; you are not going away to-day, I +hope, or to-morrow, pretty brother, gray-haired brother - you are not +going away to-morrow, I hope?’<br> +<br> +‘Nor the next day,’ said I, ‘only to take a stroll +to see if I can sell a kettle; good-bye, little sister, Rommany sister, +dingy sister.’<br> +<br> +‘Good-bye, tall brother,’ said the girl, as she departed, +singing<br> +<br> +<br> +‘The Rommany chi,’ etc.<br> +<br> +<br> +‘There’s something about that girl that I don’t understand,’ +said I to myself; ‘something mysterious. However, it is +nothing to me, she knows not who I am, and if she did, what then?’<br> +<br> +Late that evening as I sat on the shaft of my cart in deep meditation, +with my arms folded, I thought I heard a rustling in the bushes over +against me. I turned my eyes in that direction, but saw nothing. +‘Some bird,’ said I; ‘an owl, perhaps’; and +once more I fell into meditation; my mind wandered from one thing to +another - musing now on the structure of the Roman tongue - now on the +rise and fall of the Persian power - and now on the powers vested in +recorders at quarter-sessions. I was thinking what a fine thing +it must be to be a recorder of the peace, when, lifting up my eyes, +I saw right opposite, not a culprit at the bar, but, staring at me through +a gap in the bush, a face wild and strange, half covered with gray hair; +I only saw it a moment, the next it had disappeared.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Friend of Slingsby - All quiet - Danger - The two cakes - Children in +the wood - Don’t be angry - In deep thought - Temples throbbing +- Deadly sick - Another blow - No answer - How old are you? - Play and +sacrament - Heavy heart - Song of poison - Drow of gypsies - The dog +- Ely’s church - Get up, bebee - The vehicle - Can you speak? +- The oil.<br> +<br> +The next day, at an early hour, I harnessed my little pony, and, putting +my things in my cart, I went on my projected stroll. Crossing +the moor, I arrived in about an hour at a small village, from which, +after a short stay, I proceeded to another, and from thence to a third. +I found that the name of Slingsby was well known in these parts.<br> +<br> +‘If you are a friend of Slingsby you must be an honest lad,’ +said an ancient crone; ‘you shall never want for work whilst I +can give it you. Here, take my kettle, the bottom came out this +morning, and lend me that of yours till you bring it back. I’m +not afraid to trust you - not I. Don’t hurry yourself, young +man, if you don’t come back for a fortnight I shan’t have +the worse opinion of you.’<br> +<br> +I returned to my quarters at evening, tired, but rejoiced at heart; +I had work before me for several days, having collected various kekaubies +which required mending, in place of those which I left behind - those +which I had been employed upon during the last few days. I found +all quiet in the lane or glade, and, unharnessing my little horse, I +once more pitched my tent in the old spot beneath the ash, lighted my +fire, ate my frugal meal, and then, after looking for some time at the +heavenly bodies, and more particularly at the star Jupiter, I entered +my tent, lay down upon my pallet, and went to sleep.<br> +<br> +Nothing occurred on the following day which requires any particular +notice, nor indeed on the one succeeding that. It was about noon +on the third day that I sat beneath the shade of the ash tree; I was +not at work, for the weather was particularly hot, and I felt but little +inclination to make any exertion. Leaning my back against the +tree, I was not long in falling into a slumber; I particularly remember +that slumber of mine beneath the ash tree, for it was about the sweetest +slumber that I ever enjoyed; how long I continued in it I do not know; +I could almost have wished that it had lasted to the present time. +All of a sudden it appeared to me that a voice cried in my ear, ‘Danger! +danger! danger!’ Nothing seemingly could be more distinct +than the words which I heard; then an uneasy sensation came over me, +which I strove to get rid of, and at last succeeded, for I awoke. +The gypsy girl was standing just opposite to me, with her eyes fixed +upon my countenance; a singular kind of little dog stood beside her.<br> +<br> +‘Ha!’ said I, ‘was it you that cried danger? +What danger is there?’<br> +<br> +‘Danger, brother, there is no danger; what danger should there +be? I called to my little dog, but that was in the wood; my little +dog’s name is not danger, but Stranger; what danger should there +be, brother?’<br> +<br> +‘What, indeed, except in sleeping beneath a tree; what is that +you have got in your hand?’<br> +<br> +‘Something for you,’ said the girl, sitting down and proceeding +to untie a white napkin; ‘a pretty manricli, so sweet, so nice; +when I went home to my people I told my grandbebee how kind you had +been to the poor person’s child, and when my grandbebee saw the +kekaubi, she said, “Hir mi devlis, it won’t do for the poor +people to be ungrateful; by my God, I will bake a cake for the young +harko mescro.”’<br> +<br> +‘But there are two cakes.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, brother, two cakes, both for you; my grandbebee meant them +both for you - but list, brother, I will have one of them for bringing +them. I know you will give me one, pretty brother, gray-haired +brother - which shall I have, brother?’<br> +<br> +In the napkin were two round cakes, seemingly made of rich and costly +compounds, and precisely similar in form, each weighing about half a +pound.<br> +<br> +‘Which shall I have, brother?’ said the gypsy girl.<br> +<br> +‘Whichever you please.’<br> +<br> +‘No, brother, no, the cakes are yours, not mine. It is for +you to say.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, then, give me the one nearest you, and take the other.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, brother, yes,’ said the girl; and taking the cakes, +she flung them into the air two or three times, catching them as they +fell, and singing the while. ‘Pretty brother, gray-haired +brother - here, brother,’ said she, ‘here is your cake, +this other is mine.’<br> +<br> +‘Are you sure,’ said I, taking the cake, ‘that this +is the one I chose?’<br> +<br> +‘Quite sure, brother; but if you like you can have mine; there’s +no difference, however - shall I eat?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, sister, eat.’<br> +<br> +‘See, brother, I do; now, brother, eat, pretty brother, gray-haired +brother.’<br> +<br> +‘I am not hungry.’<br> +<br> +‘Not hungry! well, what then - what has being hungry to do with +the matter? It is my grandbebee’s cake which was sent because +you were kind to the poor person’s child; eat, brother, eat, and +we shall be like the children in the wood that the gorgios speak of.’<br> +<br> +‘The children in the wood had nothing to eat.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, they had hips and haws; we have better. Eat, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘See, sister, I do,’ and I ate a piece of the cake.<br> +<br> +‘Well, brother, how do you like it?’ said the girl, looking +fixedly at me.<br> +<br> +‘It is very rich and sweet, and yet there is something strange +about it; I don’t think I shall eat any more.’<br> +<br> +‘Fie, brother, fie, to find fault with the poor person’s +cake; see, I have nearly eaten mine.’<br> +<br> +‘That’s a pretty little dog.’<br> +<br> +‘Is it not, brother? that’s my juggal, my little sister, +as I call her.’<br> +<br> +‘Come here, juggal,’ said I to the animal.<br> +<br> +‘What do you want with my juggal?’ said the girl.<br> +<br> +‘Only to give her a piece of cake,’ said I, offering the +dog a piece which I had just broken off.<br> +<br> +‘What do you mean?’ said the girl, snatching the dog away; +‘my grandbebee’s cake is not for dogs.’<br> +<br> +‘Why, I just now saw you give the animal a piece of yours.’<br> +<br> +‘You lie, brother, you saw no such thing; but I see how it is, +you wish to affront the poor person’s child. I shall go +to my house.’<br> +<br> +‘Keep still, and don’t be angry; see, I have eaten the piece +which I offered the dog. I meant no offence. It is a sweet +cake after all.’<br> +<br> +‘Isn’t it, brother? I am glad you like it. Offence, +brother, no offence at all! I am so glad you like my grandbebee’s +cake, but she will be wanting me at home. Eat one piece more of +grandbebee’s cake, and I will go.’<br> +<br> +‘I am not hungry, I will put the rest by.’<br> +<br> +‘One piece more before I go, handsome brother, gray-haired brother.’<br> +<br> +‘I will not eat any more, I have already eaten more than I wished +to oblige you; if you must go, good-day to you.’<br> +<br> +The girl rose upon her feet, looked hard at me, then at the remainder +of the cake which I held in my hand, and then at me again, and then +stood for a moment or two, as if in deep thought; presently an air of +satisfaction came over her countenance, she smiled and said, ‘Well, +brother, well, do as you please, I merely wished you to eat because +you have been so kind to the poor person’s child. She loves +you so, that she could have wished to have seen you eat it all; good-bye, +brother, I daresay when I am gone you will eat some more of it, and +if you don’t, I daresay you have eaten enough to - to - show your +love for us. After all it was a poor person’s cake, a Rommany +manricli, and all you gorgios are somewhat gorgious. Farewell, +brother, pretty brother, gray-haired brother. Come, juggal.’<br> +<br> +I remained under the ash tree seated on the grass for a minute or two, +and endeavoured to resume the occupation in which I had been engaged +before I fell asleep, but I felt no inclination for labour. I +then thought I would sleep again, and once more reclined against the +tree, and slumbered for some little time, but my sleep was more agitated +than before. Something appeared to bear heavy on my breast, I +struggled in my sleep, fell on the grass, and awoke; my temples were +throbbing, there was a burning in my eyes, and my mouth felt parched; +the oppression about the chest which I had felt in my sleep still continued. +‘I must shake off these feelings,’ said I, ‘and get +upon my legs.’ I walked rapidly up and down upon the green +sward; at length, feeling my thirst increase, I directed my steps down +the narrow path to the spring which ran amidst the bushes; arriving +there, I knelt down and drank of the water, but on lifting up my head +I felt thirstier than before; again I drank, but with the like result; +I was about to drink for the third time, when I felt a dreadful qualm +which instantly robbed me of nearly all my strength. What can +be the matter with me? thought I; but I suppose I have made myself ill +by drinking cold water. I got up and made the best of my way back +to my tent; before I reached it the qualm had seized me again, and I +was deadly sick. I flung myself on my pallet, qualm succeeded +qualm, but in the intervals my mouth was dry and burning, and I felt +a frantic desire to drink, but no water was at hand, and to reach the +spring once more was impossible; the qualms continued, deadly pains +shot through my whole frame; I could bear my agonies no longer, and +I fell into a trance or swoon. How long I continued therein I +know not; on recovering, however, I felt somewhat better, and attempted +to lift my head off my couch; the next moment, however, the qualms and +pains returned, if possible, with greater violence than before. +I am dying, thought I, like a dog, without any help; and then methought +I heard a sound at a distance like people singing, and then once more +I relapsed into my swoon.<br> +<br> +I revived just as a heavy blow sounded upon the canvas of the tent. +I started, but my condition did not permit me to rise; again the same +kind of blow sounded upon the canvas; I thought for a moment of crying +out and requesting assistance, but an inexplicable something chained +my tongue, and now I heard a whisper on the outside of the tent. +‘He does not move, bebee,’ said a voice which I knew. +‘I should not wonder if it has done for him already; however, +strike again with your ran’; and then there was another blow, +after which another voice cried aloud in a strange tone, ‘Is the +gentleman of the house asleep, or is he taking his dinner?’ +I remained quite silent and motionless, and in another moment the voice +continued, ‘What, no answer? what can the gentleman of the house +be about that he makes no answer? perhaps the gentleman of the house +may be darning his stockings?’ Thereupon a face peered into +the door of the tent, at the farther extremity of which I was stretched. +It was that of a woman, but owing to the posture in which she stood, +with her back to the light, and partly owing to a large straw bonnet, +I could distinguish but very little of the features of her countenance. +I had, however, recognised her voice; it was that of my old acquaintance, +Mrs. Herne. ‘Ho, ho, sir!’ said she, ‘here you +are. Come here, Leonora,’ said she to the gypsy girl, who +pressed in at the other side of the door; ‘here is the gentleman, +not asleep, but only stretched out after dinner. Sit down on your +ham, child, at the door, I shall do the same. There - you have +seen me before, sir, have you not?’<br> +<br> +‘The gentleman makes no answer, bebee; perhaps he does not know +you.’<br> +<br> +‘I have known him of old, Leonora,’ said Mrs. Herne; ‘and, +to tell you the truth, though I spoke to him just now, I expected no +answer.’<br> +<br> +‘It’s a way he has, bebee, I suppose?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, child, it’s a way he has.’<br> +<br> +‘Take off your bonnet, bebee, perhaps he cannot see your face.’<br> +<br> +‘I do not think that will be of much use, child; however, I will +take off my bonnet - there - and shake out my hair - there - you have +seen this hair before, sir, and this face - ’<br> +<br> +‘No answer, bebee.’<br> +<br> +‘Though the one was not quite so gray, nor the other so wrinkled.’<br> +<br> +‘How came they so, bebee?’<br> +<br> +‘All along of this gorgio, child.’<br> +<br> +‘The gentleman in the house, you mean, bebee?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, child, the gentleman in the house. God grant that +I may preserve my temper. Do you know, sir, my name? My +name is Herne, which signifies a hairy individual, though neither gray-haired +nor wrinkled. It is not the nature of the Hernes to be gray or +wrinkled, even when they are old, and I am not old.’<br> +<br> +‘How old are you, bebee?’<br> +<br> +‘Sixty-five years, child - an inconsiderable number. My +mother was a hundred and one - a considerable age - when she died, yet +she had not one gray hair, and not more than six wrinkles - an inconsiderable +number.’<br> +<br> +‘She had no griefs, bebee?’<br> +<br> +‘Plenty, child, but not like mine.’<br> +<br> +‘Not quite so hard to bear, bebee?’<br> +<br> +‘No, child; my head wanders when I think of them. After +the death of my husband, who came to his end untimeously, I went to +live with a daughter of mine, married out among certain Romans who walk +about the eastern counties, and with whom for some time I found a home +and pleasant society, for they lived right Romanly, which gave my heart +considerable satisfaction, who am a Roman born, and hope to die so. +When I say right Romanly, I mean that they kept to themselves, and were +not much given to blabbing about their private matters in promiscuous +company. Well, things went on in this way for some time, when +one day my son-in-law brings home a young gorgio of singular and outrageous +ugliness, and, without much preamble, says to me and mine, “This +is my pal, ain’t he a beauty? fall down and worship him.” +“Hold,” said I, “I for one will never consent to such +foolishness.”’<br> +<br> +‘That was right, bebee, I think I should have done the same.’<br> +<br> +‘I think you would, child; but what was the profit of it? +The whole party makes an almighty of this gorgio, lets him into their +ways, says prayers of his making, till things come to such a pass that +my own daughter says to me, “I shall buy myself a veil and fan, +and treat myself to a play and sacrament.” “Don’t,” +says I; says she, “I should like for once in my life to be courtesied +to as a Christian gentlewoman.”’<br> +<br> +‘Very foolish of her, bebee.’<br> +<br> +‘Wasn’t it, child? Where was I? At the fan and +sacrament; with a heavy heart I put seven score miles between us, came +back to the hairy ones, and found them over-given to gorgious companions; +said I, “Foolish manners is catching; all this comes of that there +gorgio.” Answers the child Leonora, “Take comfort, +bebee; I hate the gorgios as much as you do.”’<br> +<br> +‘And I say so again, bebee, as much or more.’<br> +<br> +‘Time flows on, I engage in many matters, in most miscarry. +Am sent to prison; says I to myself, I am become foolish. Am turned +out of prison, and go back to the hairy ones, who receive me not over +courteously; says I, for their unkindness, and my own foolishness, all +the thanks to that gorgio. Answers to me the child, “I wish +I could set eyes upon him, bebee.”’<br> +<br> +‘I did so, bebee; go on.’<br> +<br> +‘“How shall I know him, bebee?” says the child. +“Young and gray, tall, and speaks Romanly.” Runs to +me the child, and says, “I’ve found him, bebee.” +“Where, child?” says I. “Come with me, bebee,” +says the child. “That’s he,” says I, as I looked +at my gentleman through the hedge.’<br> +<br> +‘Ha, ha! bebee, and here he lies, poisoned like a hog.’<br> +<br> +‘You have taken drows, sir,’ said Mrs. Herne; ‘do +you hear, sir? drows; tip him a stave, child, of the song of poison.’<br> +<br> +And thereupon the girl clapped her hands, and sang -<br> +<br> +<br> +‘The Rommany churl<br> +And the Rommany girl<br> +To-morrow shall hie<br> +To poison the sty,<br> +And bewitch on the mead<br> +The farmer’s steed.’<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Do you hear that, sir?’ said Mrs. Herne; ‘the child +has tipped you a stave of the song of poison: that is, she has sung +it Christianly, though perhaps you would like to hear it Romanly; you +were always fond of what was Roman. Tip it him Romanly, child.’<br> +<br> +‘He has heard it Romanly already, bebee; ’twas by that I +found him out, as I told you.’<br> +<br> +‘Halloo, sir, are you sleeping? you have taken drows; the gentleman +makes no answer. God give me patience!’<br> +<br> +‘And what if he doesn’t, bebee; isn’t he poisoned +like a hog? Gentleman, indeed! why call him gentleman? if he ever +was one he’s broke, and is now a tinker, a worker of blue metal.’<br> +<br> +‘That’s his way, child, to-day a tinker, to-morrow something +else; and as for being drabbed, I don’t know what to say about +it.’<br> +<br> +‘Not drabbed! what do you mean, bebee? but look there, bebee; +ha, ha, look at the gentleman’s motions.’<br> +<br> +‘He is sick, child, sure enough. Ho, ho! sir, you have taken +drows; what, another throe! writhe, sir, writhe; the hog died by the +drow of gypsies; I saw him stretched at evening. That’s +yourself, sir. There is no hope, sir, no help, you have taken +drow; shall I tell you your fortune, sir, your dukkerin? God bless +you, pretty gentleman, much trouble will you have to suffer, and much +water to cross; but never mind, pretty gentleman, you shall be fortunate +at the end, and those who hate shall take off their hats to you.’<br> +<br> +‘Hey, bebee!’ cried the girl; ‘what is this? what +do you mean? you have blessed the gorgio!’<br> +<br> +‘Blessed him! no, sure; what did I say? Oh, I remember, +I’m mad; well, I can’t help it, I said what the dukkerin +dook told me; woe’s me, he’ll get up yet.’<br> +<br> +‘Nonsense, bebee! Look at his motions, he’s drabbed, +spite of dukkerin.’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t say so, child; he’s sick, ’tis true, +but don’t laugh at dukkerin, only folks do that that know no better. +I, for one, will never laugh at the dukkerin dook. Sick again; +I wish he was gone.’<br> +<br> +‘He’ll soon be gone, bebee; let’s leave him. +He’s as good as gone; look there, he’s dead.’<br> +<br> +‘No, he’s not, he’ll get up - I feel it; can’t +we hasten him?’<br> +<br> +‘Hasten him! yes, to be sure; set the dog upon him. Here, +juggal, look in there, my dog.’<br> +<br> +The dog made its appearance at the door of the tent, and began to bark +and tear up the ground.<br> +<br> +‘At him, juggal, at him; he wished to poison, to drab you. +Halloo!’<br> +<br> +The dog barked violently, and seemed about to spring at my face, but +retreated.<br> +<br> +‘The dog won’t fly at him, child; he flashed at the dog +with his eye, and scared him. He’ll get up.’<br> +<br> +‘Nonsense, bebee! you make me angry; how should he get up?’<br> +<br> +‘The dook tells me so, and, what’s more, I had a dream. +I thought I was at York, standing amidst a crowd to see a man hung, +and the crowd shouted, “There he comes!” and I looked, and, +lo! it was the tinker; before I could cry with joy I was whisked away, +and I found myself in Ely’s big church, which was chock full of +people to hear the dean preach, and all eyes were turned to the big +pulpit; and presently I heard them say, “There he mounts!” +and I looked up to the big pulpit, and, lo! the tinker was in the pulpit, +and he raised his arm and began to preach. Anon, I found myself +at York again, just as the drop fell, and I looked up, and I saw not +the tinker, but my own self hanging in the air.’<br> +<br> +‘You are going mad, bebee; if you want to hasten him, take your +stick and poke him in the eye.’<br> +<br> +‘That will be of no use, child, the dukkerin tells me so; but +I will try what I can do. Halloo, tinker! you must introduce yourself +into a quiet family, and raise confusion - must you? You must +steal its language, and, what was never done before, write it down Christianly +- must you? Take that - and that’; and she stabbed violently +with her stick towards the end of the tent.<br> +<br> +‘That’s right, bebee, you struck his face; now once more, +and let it be in the eye. Stay, what’s that? get up, bebee.’<br> +<br> +‘What’s the matter, child?’<br> +<br> +‘Some one is coming, come away.’<br> +<br> +‘Let me make sure of him, child; he’ll be up yet.’ +And thereupon Mrs. Herne, rising, leaned forward into the tent, and, +supporting herself against the pole, took aim in the direction of the +farther end. ‘I will thrust out his eye,’ said she; +and, lunging with her stick, she would probably have accomplished her +purpose had not at that moment the pole of the tent given way, whereupon +she fell to the ground, the canvas falling upon her and her intended +victim.<br> +<br> +‘Here’s a pretty affair, bebee,’ screamed the girl.<br> +<br> +‘He’ll get up, yet,’ said Mrs. Herne, from beneath +the canvas.<br> +<br> +‘Get up! - get up yourself; where are you? where is your - Here, +there, bebee, here’s the door; there, make haste, they are coming.’<br> +<br> +‘He’ll get up yet,’ said Mrs. Herne, recovering her +breath; ‘the dock tells me so.’<br> +<br> +‘Never mind him or the dook; he is drabbed; come away, or we shall +be grabbed - both of us.’<br> +<br> +‘One more blow, I know where his head lies.’<br> +<br> +‘You are mad, bebee; leave the fellow - gorgio avella.’<br> +<br> +And thereupon the females hurried away.<br> +<br> +A vehicle of some kind was evidently drawing nigh; in a little time +it came alongside of the place where lay the fallen tent, and stopped +suddenly. There was a silence for a moment, and then a parley +ensued between two voices, one of which was that of a woman. It +was not in English, but in a deep guttural tongue.<br> +<br> +‘Peth yw hono sydd yn gorwedd yna ar y ddaear?’ said a masculine +voice.<br> +<br> +‘Yn wirionedd - I do not know what it can be,’ said the +female voice, in the same tongue.<br> +<br> +‘Here is a cart, and there are tools; but what is that on the +ground?’<br> +<br> +‘Something moves beneath it; and what was that - a groan?’<br> +<br> +‘Shall I get down?’<br> +<br> +‘Of course, Peter, some one may want your help?<br> +<br> +‘Then I will get down, though I do not like this place; it is +frequented by Egyptians, and I do not like their yellow faces, nor their +clibberty clabber, as Master Ellis Wyn says. Now I am down. +It is a tent, Winifred, and see, here is a boy beneath it. Merciful +father! what a face.’<br> +<br> +A middle-aged man, with a strongly marked and serious countenance, dressed +in sober-coloured habiliments, had lifted up the stifling folds of the +tent, and was bending over me. ‘Can you speak, my lad?’ +said he in English; ‘what is the matter with you? if you could +but tell me, I could perhaps help you - ’ ‘What is +that you say? I can’t hear you. I will kneel down’; +and he flung himself on the ground, and placed his ear close to my mouth. +‘Now speak if you can. Hey! what! no, sure, God forbid!’ +then starting up, he cried to a female who sat in the cart, anxiously +looking on - ‘Gwenwyn! gwenwyn! yw y gwas wedi ei gwenwynaw. +The oil! Winifred, the oil!’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Desired effect - The three oaks - Winifred - Things of time - With God’s +will - The preacher - Creature comforts - Croesaw - Welsh and English +- Mayor of Chester.<br> +<br> +The oil, which the strangers compelled me to take, produced the desired +effect, though, during at least two hours, it was very doubtful whether +or not my life would be saved. At the end of that period the man +said that with the blessing of God he would answer for my life. +He then demanded whether I thought I could bear to be removed from the +place in which we were; ‘for I like it not,’ he continued, +‘as something within me tells me that it is not good for any of +us to be here.’ I told him, as well as I was able, that +I, too, should be glad to leave the place; whereupon, after collecting +my things, he harnessed my pony, and, with the assistance of the woman, +he contrived to place me in the cart; he then gave me a draught out +of a small phial, and we set forward at a slow pace, the man walking +by the side of the cart in which I lay. It is probable that the +draught consisted of a strong opiate, for after swallowing it I fell +into a deep slumber; on my awaking, I found that the shadows of night +had enveloped the earth - we were still moving on. Shortly, however, +after descending a declivity, we turned into a lane, at the entrance +of which was a gate. This lane conducted to a meadow, through +the middle of which ran a small brook; it stood between two rising grounds; +that on the left, which was on the farther side of the water, was covered +with wood, whilst the one on the right, which was not so high, was crowned +with the white walls of what appeared to be a farmhouse.<br> +<br> +Advancing along the meadow, we presently came to a place where grew +three immense oaks, almost on the side of the brook, over which they +flung their arms, so as to shade it as with a canopy; the ground beneath +was bare of grass, and nearly as hard and smooth as the floor of a barn. +Having led his own cart on one side of the midmost tree, and my own +on the other, the stranger said to me, ‘This is the spot where +my wife and myself generally tarry in the summer season, when we come +into these parts. We are about to pass the night here. I +suppose you will have no objection to do the same? Indeed, I do +not see what else you could do under present circumstances.’ +After receiving my answer, in which I, of course, expressed my readiness +to assent to his proposal, he proceeded to unharness his horse, and, +feeling myself much better, I got down, and began to make the necessary +preparations for passing the night beneath the oak.<br> +<br> +Whilst thus engaged, I felt myself touched on the shoulder, and, looking +round, perceived the woman, whom the stranger called Winifred, standing +close to me. The moon was shining brightly upon her, and I observed +that she was very good-looking, with a composed yet cheerful expression +of countenance; her dress was plain and primitive, very much resembling +that of a Quaker. She held a straw bonnet in her hand. ‘I +am glad to see thee moving about, young man,’ said she, in a soft, +placid tone; ‘I could scarcely have expected it. Thou must +be wondrous strong; many, after what thou hast suffered, would not have +stood on their feet for weeks and months. What do I say? - Peter, +my husband, who is skilled in medicine, just now told me that not one +in five hundred would have survived what thou hast this day undergone; +but allow me to ask thee one thing, Hast thou returned thanks to God +for thy deliverance?’ I made no answer, and the woman, after +a pause, said, ‘Excuse me, young man, but do you know anything +of God?’ ‘Very little,’ I replied, ‘but +I should say He must be a wondrous strong person, if He made all those +big bright things up above there, to say nothing of the ground on which +we stand, which bears beings like these oaks, each of which is fifty +times as strong as myself, and will live twenty times as long.’ +The woman was silent for some moments, and then said, ‘I scarcely +know in what spirit thy words are uttered. If thou art serious, +however, I would caution thee against supposing that the power of God +is more manifested in these trees, or even in those bright stars above +us, than in thyself - they are things of time, but thou art a being +destined to an eternity; it depends upon thyself whether thy eternity +shall be one of joy or sorrow.’<br> +<br> +Here she was interrupted by the man, who exclaimed from the other side +of the tree, ‘Winifred, it is getting late, you had better go +up to the house on the hill to inform our friends of our arrival, or +they will have retired for the night.’ ‘True,’ +said Winifred, and forthwith wended her way to the house in question, +returning shortly with another woman, whom the man, speaking in the +same language which I had heard him first use, greeted by the name of +Mary; the woman replied in the same tongue, but almost immediately said, +in English, ‘We hoped to have heard you speak to-night, Peter, +but we cannot expect that now, seeing that it is so late, owing to your +having been detained by the way, as Winifred tells me; nothing remains +for you to do now but to sup - to-morrow, with God’s will, we +shall hear you.’ ‘And to-night, also, with God’s +will, provided you be so disposed. Let those of your family come +hither.’ ‘They will be hither presently,’ said +Mary, ‘for knowing that thou art arrived, they will, of course, +come and bid thee welcome.’ And scarcely had she spoke, +when I beheld a party of people descending the moonlit side of the hill. +They soon arrived at the place where we were; they might amount in all +to twelve individuals. The principal person was a tall, athletic +man, of about forty, dressed like a plain country farmer; this was, +I soon found, the husband of Mary; the rest of the group consisted of +the children of these two, and their domestic servants. One after +another they all shook Peter by the hand, men and women, boys and girls, +and expressed their joy at seeing him. After which he said, ‘Now, +friends, if you please, I will speak a few words to you.’ +A stool was then brought him from the cart, which he stepped on, and +the people arranging themselves round him, some standing, some seated +on the ground, he forthwith began to address them in a clear, distinct +voice; and the subject of his discourse was the necessity, in all human +beings, of a change of heart.<br> +<br> +The preacher was better than his promise, for, instead of speaking a +few words, he preached for at least three-quarters of an hour; none +of the audience, however, showed the slightest symptom of weariness; +on the contrary, the hope of each individual appeared to hang upon the +words which proceeded from his mouth. At the conclusion of the +sermon or discourse the whole assembly again shook Peter by the hand, +and returned to their house, the mistress of the family saying, as she +departed, ‘I shall soon be back, Peter; I go but to make arrangements +for the supper of thyself and company’; and, in effect, she presently +returned, attended by a young woman, who bore a tray in her hands. +‘Set it down, Jessy,’ said the mistress to the girl, ‘and +then betake thyself to thy rest, I shall remain here for a little time +to talk with my friends.’ The girl departed, and the preacher +and the two females placed themselves on the ground about the tray. +The man gave thanks, and himself and his wife appeared to be about to +eat, when the latter suddenly placed her hand upon his arm, and said +something to him in a low voice, whereupon he exclaimed, ‘Ay, +truly, we were both forgetful’; and then getting up, he came towards +me, who stood a little way off, leaning against the wheel of my cart; +and, taking me by the hand, he said, ‘Pardon us, young man, we +were both so engaged in our own creature-comforts, that we forgot thee, +but it is not too late to repair our fault; wilt thou not join us, and +taste our bread and milk?’ ‘I cannot eat,’ I +replied, ‘but I think I could drink a little milk’; whereupon +he led me to the rest, and seating me by his side, he poured some milk +into a horn cup, saying, ‘“Croesaw.” That,’ +added he, with a smile, ‘is Welsh for welcome.’<br> +<br> +The fare upon the tray was of the simplest description, consisting of +bread, cheese, milk, and curds. My two friends partook with a +good appetite. ‘Mary,’ said the preacher, addressing +himself to the woman of the house, ‘every time I come to visit +thee, I find thee less inclined to speak Welsh. I suppose, in +a little time, thou wilt entirely have forgotten it; hast thou taught +it to any of thy children?’ ‘The two eldest understand +a few words,’ said the woman, ‘but my husband does not wish +them to learn it; he says sometimes, jocularly, that though it pleased +him to marry a Welsh wife, it does not please him to have Welsh children. +Who, I have heard him say, would be a Welshman, if he could be an Englishman?’ +‘I for one,’ said the preacher, somewhat hastily; ‘not +to be king of all England would I give up my birthright as a Welshman. +Your husband is an excellent person, Mary, but I am afraid he is somewhat +prejudiced.’ ‘You do him justice, Peter, in saying +that he is an excellent person,’ sail the woman; ‘as to +being prejudiced, I scarcely know what to say, but he thinks that two +languages in the same kingdom are almost as bad as two kings.’ +‘That’s no bad observation,’ said the preacher, ‘and +it is generally the case; yet, thank God, the Welsh and English go on +very well, side by side, and I hope will do so till the Almighty calls +all men to their long account.’ ‘They jog on very +well now,’ said the woman; ‘but I have heard my husband +say that it was not always so, and that the Welsh, in old times, were +a violent and ferocious people, for that once they hanged the mayor +of Chester.’ ‘Ha, ha!’ said the preacher, and +his eyes flashed in the moonlight; ‘he told you that, did he?’ +‘Yes,’ said Mary; ‘once, when the mayor of Chester, +with some of his people, was present at one of the fairs over the border, +a quarrel arose between the Welsh and the English, and the Welsh beat +the English, and hanged the mayor.’ ‘Your husband +is a clever man,’ said Peter, ‘and knows a great deal; did +he tell you the name of the leader of the Welsh? No! then I will: +the leader of the Welsh on that occasion was -. He was a powerful +chieftain, and there was an old feud between him and the men of Chester. +Afterwards, when two hundred of the men of Chester invaded his country +to take revenge for their mayor, he enticed them into a tower, set fire +to it, and burnt them all. That - was a very fine, noble - God +forgive me, what was I about to say - a very bad, violent man; but, +Mary, this is very carnal and unprofitable conversation, and in holding +it we set a very bad example to the young man here - let us change the +subject.’<br> +<br> +They then began to talk on religious matters. At length Mary departed +to her abode, and the preacher and his wife retired to their tilted +cart.<br> +<br> +‘Poor fellow, he seems to be almost brutally ignorant,’ +said Peter, addressing his wife in their native language, after they +had bidden me farewell for the night.<br> +<br> +‘I am afraid he is,’ said Winifred, ‘yet my heart +warms to the poor lad, he seems so forlorn.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Morning hymn - Much alone - John Bunyan - Beholden to nobody - Sixty-five +- Sober greeting - Early Sabbaths - Finny brood - The porch - No fortune-telling +- The master’s niece - Doing good - Two or three things - Groans +and voices - Pechod Ysprydd Glan.<br> +<br> +I slept soundly during that night, partly owing to the influence of +the opiate. Early in the morning I was awakened by the voices +of Peter and his wife, who were singing a morning hymn in their own +language. Both subsequently prayed long and fervently. I +lay still till their devotions were completed, and then left my tent. +‘Good morning,’ said Peter, ‘how dost thou feel?’ +‘Much better,’ said I, ‘than I could have expected.’ +‘I am glad of it,’ said Peter. ‘Art thou hungry? +yonder comes our breakfast,’ pointing to the same young woman +I had seen the preceding night, who was again descending the hill bearing +the tray upon her head.<br> +<br> +‘What dust thou intend to do, young man, this day?’ said +Peter, when we had about half finished breakfast. ‘Do,’ +said I; ‘as I do other days, what I can.’ ‘And +dost thou pass this day as thou dost other days?’ said Peter. +‘Why not?’ said I; ‘what is there in this day different +from the rest? it seems to be of the same colour as yesterday.’ +‘Art thou aware,’ said the wife, interposing, ‘what +day it is? that it is Sabbath? that it is Sunday?’ ‘No,’ +said I, ‘I did not know that it was Sunday.’ ‘And +how did that happen?’ said Winifred, with a sigh. ‘To +tell you the truth,’ said I, ‘I live very much alone, and +pay very little heed to the passing of time.’ ‘And +yet of what infinite importance is time,’ said Winifred. +‘Art thou not aware that every year brings thee nearer to thy +end?’ ‘I do not think,’ said I, ‘that +I am so near my end as I was yesterday.’ ‘Yes, thou +art,’ said the woman; ‘thou wast not doomed to die yesterday; +an invisible hand was watching over thee yesterday; but thy day will +come, therefore improve the time; be grateful that thou wast saved yesterday; +and, oh! reflect on one thing; if thou hadst died yesterday, where wouldst +thou have been now?’ ‘Cast into the earth, perhaps,’ +said I. ‘I have heard Mr. Petulengro say that to be cast +into the earth is the natural end of man.’ ‘Who is +Mr. Petulengro?’ said Peter, interrupting his wife, as she was +about to speak. ‘Master of the horse-shoe,’ said I; +‘and, according to his own account, king of Egypt.’ +‘I understand,’ said Peter, ‘head of some family of +wandering Egyptians - they are a race utterly godless. Art thou +of them? - but no, thou art not, thou hast not their yellow blood. +I suppose thou belongest to the family of wandering artisans called +-. I do not like you the worse for belonging to them. A +mighty speaker of old sprang up from amidst that family.’ +‘Who was he?’ said I. ‘John Bunyan,’ replied +Peter, reverently, ‘and the mention of his name reminds me that +I have to preach this day; wilt thou go and hear? the distance is not +great, only half a mile.’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘I +will not go and hear.’ ‘Wherefore?’ said Peter. +‘I belong to the church,’ said I, ‘and not to the +congregations.’ ‘Oh! the pride of that church,’ +said Peter, addressing his wife in their own tongue, ‘exemplified +even in the lowest and most ignorant of its members. Then thou, +doubtless, meanest to go to church,’ said Peter, again addressing +me; ‘there is a church on the other side of that wooded hill.’ +‘No,’ said I, ‘I do not mean to go to church.’ +‘May I ask thee wherefore?’ said Peter. ‘Because,’ +said I, ‘I prefer remaining beneath the shade of these trees, +listening to the sound of the leaves and the tinkling of the waters.’<br> +<br> +‘Then thou intendest to remain here?’ said Peter, looking +fixedly at me. ‘If I do not intrude,’ said I; ‘but +if I do, I will wander away; I wish to be beholden to nobody - perhaps +you wish me to go?’ ‘On the contrary,’ said +Peter, ‘I wish you to stay. I begin to see something in +thee which has much interest for me; but we must now bid thee farewell +for the rest of the day, the time is drawing nigh for us to repair to +the place of preaching; before we leave thee alone, however, I should +wish to ask thee a question - Didst thou seek thy own destruction yesterday, +and didst thou wilfully take that poison?’ ‘No,’ +said I; ‘had I known there had been poison in the cake I certainly +should not have taken it.’ ‘And who gave it thee?’ +said Peter. ‘An enemy of mine,’ I replied. ‘Who +is thy enemy?’ ‘An Egyptian sorceress and poison-monger.’ +‘Thy enemy is a female. I fear thou hadst given her cause +to hate thee - of what did she complain?’ ‘That I +had stolen the tongue out of her head.’ ‘I do not +understand thee - is she young?’ ‘About sixty-five.’<br> +<br> +Here Winifred interposed. ‘Thou didst call her just now +by hard names, young man,’ said she; ‘I trust thou dost +bear no malice against her.’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘I +bear no malice against her.’ ‘Thou art not wishing +to deliver her into the hand of what is called justice?’ +‘By no means,’ said I; ‘I have lived long enough upon +the roads not to cry out for the constable when my finger is broken. +I consider this poisoning as an accident of the roads; one of those +to which those who travel are occasionally subject.’ ‘In +short, thou forgivest thine adversary?’ ‘Both now +and for ever,’ said I. ‘Truly,’ said Winifred, +‘the spirit which the young man displayeth pleases me much; I +should be loth that he left us yet. I have no doubt that, with +the blessing of God, and a little of thy exhortation, he will turn out +a true Christian before he leaveth us.’ ‘My exhortation!’ +said Peter, and a dark shade passed over his countenance; ‘thou +forgettest what I am - I - I - but I am forgetting myself; the Lord’s +will be done; and now put away the things, for I perceive that our friends +are coming to attend us to the place of meeting.’<br> +<br> +Again the family which I had seen the night before descended the hill +from their abode. They were now dressed in their Sunday’s +best. The master of the house led the way. They presently +joined us, when a quiet sober greeting ensued on each side. After +a little time Peter shook me by the hand and bade me farewell till the +evening; Winifred did the same, adding that she hoped I should be visited +by sweet and holy thoughts. The whole party then moved off in +the direction by which we had come the preceding night, Peter and the +master leading the way, followed by Winifred and the mistress of the +family. As I gazed on their departing forms, I felt almost inclined +to follow them to their place of worship. I did not stir, however, +but remained leaning against my oak with my hands behind me.<br> +<br> +And after a time I sat me down at the foot of the oak with my face turned +towards the water, and, folding my hands, I fell into deep meditation. +I thought on the early Sabbaths of my life, and the manner in which +I was wont to pass them. How carefully I said my prayers when +I got up on the Sabbath morn, and how carefully I combed my hair and +brushed my clothes in order that I might do credit to the Sabbath day. +I thought of the old church at pretty D-, the dignified rector, and +yet more dignified clerk. I though of England’s grand Liturgy, +and Tate and Brady’s sonorous minstrelsy. I thought of the +Holy Book, portions of which I was in the habit of reading between service. +I thought, too, of the evening walk which I sometimes took in fine weather +like the present, with my mother and brother - a quiet sober walk, during +which I would not break into a run, even to chase a butterfly, or yet +more a honey-bee, being fully convinced of the dread importance of the +day which God had hallowed. And how glad I was when I had got +over the Sabbath day without having done anything to profane it. +And how soundly I slept on the Sabbath night after the toil of being +very good throughout the day.<br> +<br> +And when I had mused on those times a long while, I sighed and said +to myself, I am much altered since then; am I altered for the better? +And then I looked at my hands and my apparel, and sighed again. +I was not wont of yore to appear thus on the Sabbath day.<br> +<br> +For a long time I continued in a state of deep meditation, till at last +I lifted up my eyes to the sun, which, as usual during that glorious +summer, was shining in unclouded majesty; and then I lowered them to +the sparkling water, in which hundreds of the finny brood were disporting +themselves, and then I thought what a fine thing it was to be a fish +on such a fine summer day, and I wished myself a fish, or at least amongst +the fishes; and then I looked at my hands again, and then, bending over +the water, I looked at my face in the crystal mirror, and started when +I saw it, for it looked squalid and miserable.<br> +<br> +Forthwith I started up, and said to myself, I should like to bathe and +cleanse myself from the squalor produced by my late hard life and by +Mrs. Herne’s drow. I wonder if there is any harm in bathing +on the Sabbath day. I will ask Winifred when she comes home; in +the meantime I will bathe, provided I can find a fitting place.<br> +<br> +But the brook, though a very delightful place for fish to disport in, +was shallow, and by no means adapted for the recreation of so large +a being as myself; it was, moreover, exposed, though I saw nobody at +hand, nor heard a single human voice or sound. Following the winding +of the brook, I left the meadow, and, passing through two or three thickets, +came to a place where between lofty banks the water ran deep and dark, +and there I bathed, imbibing new tone and vigour into my languid and +exhausted frame.<br> +<br> +Having put on my clothes, I returned by the way I had come to my vehicle +beneath the oak tree. From thence, for want of something better +to do, I strolled up the hill, on the top of which stood the farm-house; +it was a large and commodious building built principally of stone, and +seeming of some antiquity, with a porch, on either side of which was +an oaken bench. On the right was seated a young woman with a book +in her hand, the same who had brought the tray to my friends and myself.<br> +<br> +‘Good-day,’ said I, ‘pretty damsel, sitting in the +farm porch.’<br> +<br> +‘Good-day,’ said the girl, looking at me for a moment, and +then fixing her eyes on her book.<br> +<br> +‘That’s a nice book you are reading,’ said I.<br> +<br> +The girl looked at me with surprise. ‘How do you know what +book it is?’ said she.<br> +<br> +‘How do I know - never mind; but a nice book it is - no love, +no fortune-telling in it.’<br> +<br> +The girl looked at me half offended. ‘Fortune-telling!’ +said she, ‘I should think not. But you know nothing about +it’; and she bent her head once more over the book.<br> +<br> +‘I tell you what, young person,’ said I, ‘I know all +about that book; what will you wager that I do not?’<br> +<br> +‘I never wager,’ said the girl.<br> +<br> +‘Shall I tell you the name of it,’ said I, ‘O daughter +of the dairy? ‘<br> +<br> +The girl half started. ‘I should never have thought,’ +said she, half timidly, ‘that you could have guessed it.’<br> +<br> +‘I did not guess it,’ said I, ‘I knew it; and meet +and proper it is that you should read it.’<br> +<br> +‘Why so?’ said the girl.<br> +<br> +‘Can the daughter of the dairy read a more fitting book than the +<i>Dairyman’s Daughter</i>?’<br> +<br> +‘Where do you come from?’ said the girl.<br> +<br> +‘Out of the water,’ said I. ‘Don’t start, +I have been bathing; are you fond of the water?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said the girl, heaving a sigh; ‘I am not fond +of the water, that is, of the sea’; and here she sighed again.<br> +<br> +‘The sea is a wide gulf,’ said I, ‘and frequently +separates hearts.’<br> +<br> +The girl sobbed.<br> +<br> +‘Why are you alone here?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘I take my turn with the rest,’ said the girl, ‘to +keep at home on Sunday.’<br> +<br> +‘And you are - ’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘The master’s niece!’ said the girl. ‘How +came you to know it? But why did you not go with the rest and +with your friends?’<br> +<br> +‘Who are those you call my friends?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Peter and his wife.’<br> +<br> +‘And who are they?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Do you not know?’ said the girl; ‘you came with them.’<br> +<br> +‘They found me ill by the way,’ said I; ‘and they +relieved me: I know nothing about them.’<br> +<br> +‘I thought you knew everything,’ said the girl.<br> +<br> +‘There are two or three things which I do not know, and this is +one of them. Who are they?’<br> +<br> +‘Did you never hear of the great Welsh preacher, Peter Williams?’<br> +<br> +‘Never,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said the girl, ‘this is he, and Winifred is +his wife, and a nice person she is. Some people say, indeed, that +she is as good a preacher as her husband, though of that matter I can +say nothing, having never heard her preach. So these two wander +over all Wales and the greater part of England, comforting the hearts +of the people with their doctrine, and doing all the good they can. +They frequently come here, for the mistress is a Welsh woman, and an +old friend of both, and then they take up their abode in the cart beneath +the old oaks down there by the stream.’<br> +<br> +‘And what is their reason for doing so?’ said I; ‘would +it not be more comfortable to sleep beneath a roof?’<br> +<br> +‘I know not their reasons,’ said the girl, ‘but so +it is; they never sleep beneath a roof unless the weather is very severe. +I once heard the mistress say that Peter had something heavy upon his +mind; perhaps that is the cause. If he is unhappy, all I can say +is, that I wish him otherwise, for he is a good man and a kind - ’<br> +<br> +‘Thank you,’ said I, ‘I will now depart.’<br> +<br> +‘Hem!’ said the girl, ‘I was wishing - ’<br> +<br> +‘What? to ask me a question?’<br> +<br> +‘Not exactly; but you seem to know everything; you mentioned, +I think, fortune-telling.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you wish me to tell your fortune?’<br> +<br> +‘By no means; but I have a friend at a distance at sea, and I +should wish to know - ’<br> +<br> +‘When he will come back? I have told you already there are +two or three things which I do not know - this is another of them. +However, I should not be surprised if he were to come back some of these +days; I would if I were in his place. In the meantime be patient, +attend to the dairy, and read the <i>Dairyman’s Daughter</i> when +you have nothing better to do.’<br> +<br> +It was late in the evening when the party of the morning returned. +The farmer and his family repaired at once to their abode, and my two +friends joined me beneath the tree. Peter sat down at the foot +of the oak, and said nothing. Supper was brought by a servant, +not the damsel of the porch. We sat round the tray, Peter said +grace, but scarcely anything else; he appeared sad and dejected, his +wife looked anxiously upon him. I was as silent as my friends; +after a little time we retired to our separate places of rest.<br> +<br> +About midnight I was awakened by a noise; I started up and listened; +it appeared to me that I heard voices and groans. In a moment +I had issued from my tent - all was silent - but the next moment I again +heard groans and voices; they proceeded from the tilted cart where Peter +and his wife lay; I drew near, again there was a pause, and then I heard +the voice of Peter, in an accent of extreme anguish, exclaim, ‘Pechod +Ysprydd Glan - O pechod Ysprydd Glan!’ and then he uttered a deep +groan. Anon, I heard the voice of Winifred, and never shall I +forget the sweetness and gentleness of the tones of her voice in the +stillness of that night. I did not understand all she said - she +spoke in her native language, and I was some way apart; she appeared +to endeavour to console her husband, but he seemed to refuse all comfort, +and, with many groans, repeated - ‘Pechod Ysprydd Glan - O pechod +Ysprydd Glan!’ I felt I had no right to pry into their afflictions, +and retired.<br> +<br> +Now ‘pechod Ysprydd Glan,’ interpreted, is the sin against +the Holy Ghost.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXIV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The following day - Pride - Thriving trade - Tylwyth Teg - Ellis Wyn +- Sleeping hard - Incalculable good - Fearful agony - The tale.<br> +<br> +Peter and his wife did not proceed on any expedition during the following +day. The former strolled gloomily about the fields, and the latter +passed many hours in the farmhouse. Towards evening, without saying +a word to either, I departed with my vehicle, and finding my way to +a small town at some distance, I laid in a store of various articles, +with which I returned. It was night, and my two friends were seated +beneath the oak; they had just completed their frugal supper. +‘We waited for thee some time,’ said Winifred, ‘but, +finding that thou didst not come, we began without thee; but sit down, +I pray thee, there is still enough for thee.’ ‘I will +sit down,’ said I, ‘but I require no supper, for I have +eaten where I have been’: nothing more particular occurred at +the time. Next morning the kind pair invited me to share their +breakfast. ‘I will not share your breakfast,’ said +I. ‘Wherefore not?’ said Winifred, anxiously. +‘Because,’ said I, ‘it is not proper that I be beholden +to you for meat and drink.’ ‘But we are beholden to +other people,’ said Winifred. ‘Yes,’ said I, +‘but you preach to them, and give them ghostly advice, which considerably +alters the matter; not that I would receive anything from them, if I +preached to them six times a day.’ ‘Thou art not fond +of receiving favours, then, young man,’ said Winifred. ‘I +am not,’ said I. ‘And of conferring favours?’ +‘Nothing affords me greater pleasure,’ said I, ‘than +to confer favours.’ ‘What a disposition,’ said +Winifred, holding up her hands; ‘and this is pride, genuine pride +- that feeling which the world agrees to call so noble. Oh, how +mean a thing is pride! never before did I see all the meanness of what +is called pride!’<br> +<br> +‘But how wilt thou live, friend,’ said Peter; ‘dost +thou not intend to eat?’ ‘When I went out last night,’ +said I, ‘I laid in a provision.’ ‘Thou hast +laid in a provision!’ said Peter, ‘pray let us see it. +Really, friend,’ said he, after I had produced it, ‘thou +must drive a thriving trade; here are provisions enough to last three +people for several days. Here are butter and eggs, here is tea, +here is sugar, and there is a flitch. I hope thou wilt let us +partake of some of thy fare.’ ‘I should be very happy +if you would,’ said I. ‘Doubt not but we shall,’ +said Peter; ‘Winifred shall have some of thy flitch cooked for +dinner. In the meantime, sit down, young man, and breakfast at +our expense - we will dine at thine.’<br> +<br> +On the evening of that day, Peter and myself sat alone beneath the oak. +We fell into conversation; Peter was at first melancholy, but he soon +became more cheerful, fluent, and entertaining. I spoke but little; +but I observed that sometimes what I said surprised the good Methodist. +We had been silent some time. At length, lifting up my eyes to +the broad and leafy canopy of the trees, I said, having nothing better +to remark, ‘What a noble tree! I wonder if the fairies ever +dance beneath it.’<br> +<br> +‘Fairies!’ said Peter, ‘fairies! how came you, young +man, to know anything about the fair family?’<br> +<br> +‘I am an Englishman,’ said I, ‘and of course know +something about fairies; England was once a famous place for them.’<br> +<br> +‘Was once, I grant you,’ said Peter, ‘but is so no +longer. I have travelled for years about England, and never heard +them mentioned before; the belief in them has died away, and even their +name seems to be forgotten. If you had said you were a Welshman, +I should not have been surprised. The Welsh have much to say of +the Tylwyth Teg, or fair family, and many believe in them.’<br> +<br> +‘And do you believe in them?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘I scarcely know what to say. Wise and good men have been +of opinion that they are nothing but devils, who, under the form of +pretty and amiable spirits, would fain allure poor human beings; I see +nothing irrational in the supposition.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you believe in devils, then?’<br> +<br> +‘Do I believe in devils, young man?’ said Peter, and his +frame was shaken as if by convulsions. ‘If I do not believe +in devils, why am I here at the present moment?’<br> +<br> +‘You know best,’ said I; ‘but I don’t believe +that fairies are devils, and I don’t wish to hear them insulted. +What learned men have said they are devils?’<br> +<br> +‘Many have said it, young man, and, amongst others, Master Ellis +Wyn, in that wonderful book of his, the <i>Bardd Cwsg</i>.’<br> +<br> +‘The<i> Bardd Cwsg</i>,’ said I; ‘what kind of book +is that? I have never heard of that book before.’<br> +<br> +‘Heard of it before; I suppose not; how should you have heard +of it before? By the bye, can you read?’<br> +<br> +‘Very tolerably,’ said I; ‘so there are fairies in +this book. What do you call it - the <i>Bardd Cwsg</i>?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, the <i>Bardd Cwsg</i>. You pronounce Welsh very fairly; +have you ever been in Wales?’<br> +<br> +‘Never,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Not been in Wales; then, of course, you don’t understand +Welsh; but we were talking of the <i>Bardd Cwsg</i> - yes, there are +fairies in the <i>Bardd Cwsg</i>, - the author of it, Master Ellis Wyn, +was carried away in his sleep by them over mountains and valleys, rivers +and great waters, incurring mighty perils at their hands, till he was +rescued from them by an angel of the Most High, who subsequently showed +him many wonderful things.’<br> +<br> +‘I beg your pardon,’ said I, ‘but what were those +wonderful things?’<br> +<br> +‘I see, young man,’ said Peter, smiling, ‘that you +are not without curiosity; but I can easily pardon any one for being +curious about the wonders contained in the book of Master Ellis Wyn. +The angel showed him the course of this world, its pomps and vanities, +its cruelty and its pride, its crimes and deceits. On another +occasion, the angel showed him Death in his nether palace, surrounded +by his grisly ministers, and by those who are continually falling victims +to his power. And, on a third occasion, the state of the condemned +in their place of everlasting torment.’<br> +<br> +‘But this was all in his sleep,’ said I, ‘was it not?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said Peter, ‘in his sleep; and on that account +the book is called <i>Gweledigaethau y Bardd Cwsg</i>, or, <i>Visions +of</i> <i>the Sleeping Bard</i>.’<br> +<br> +‘I do not care for wonders which occur in sleep,’ said I. +‘I prefer real ones; and perhaps, notwithstanding what he says, +the man had no visions at all - they are probably of his own invention.’<br> +<br> +‘They are substantially true, young man,’ said Peter; ‘like +the dreams of Bunyan, they are founded on three tremendous facts, Sin, +Death, and Hell; and like his they have done incalculable good, at least +in my own country, in the language of which they are written. +Many a guilty conscience has the <i>Bardd Cwsg</i> aroused with its +dreadful sights, its strong sighs, its puffs of smoke from the pit, +and its showers of sparks from the mouth of the yet lower gulf of - +Unknown - were it not for the <i>Bardd Cwsg</i> perhaps I might not +be here.’<br> +<br> +‘I would sooner hear your own tale,’ said I, ‘than +all the visions of the <i>Bardd Cwsg</i>.’<br> +<br> +Peter shook, bent his form nearly double, and covered his face with +his hands. I sat still and motionless, with my eyes fixed upon +him. Presently Winifred descended the hill, and joined us. +‘What is the matter?’ said she, looking at her husband, +who still remained in the posture I have described. He made no +answer; whereupon, laying her hand gently on his shoulder, she said, +in the peculiar soft and tender tone which I had heard her use on a +former occasion, ‘Take comfort, Peter; what has happened now to +afflict thee?’ Peter removed his hand from his face. +‘The old pain, the old pain,’ said he; ‘I was talking +with this young man, and he would fain know what brought me here, he +would fain hear my tale, Winifred - my sin: O pechod Ysprydd Glan! +O pechod Ysprydd Glan!’ and the poor man fell into a more fearful +agony than before. Tears trickled down Winifred’s face, +I saw them trickling by the moonlight, as she gazed upon the writhing +form of her afflicted husband. I arose from my seat. ‘I +am the cause of all this,’ said I, ‘by my folly and imprudence, +and it is thus I have returned your kindness and hospitality; I will +depart from you and wander my way.’ I was retiring, but +Peter sprang up and detained me. ‘Go not,’ said he, +‘you were not in fault; if there be any fault in the case it was +mine; if I suffer, I am but paying the penalty of my own iniquity’; +he then paused, and appeared to be considering: at length he said, ‘Many +things which thou hast seen and heard connected with me require explanation; +thou wishest to know my tale, I will tell it thee, but not now, not +to-night; I am too much shaken.’<br> +<br> +Two evenings later, when we were again seated beneath the oak, Peter +took the hand of his wife in his own, and then, in tones broken and +almost inarticulate, commenced telling me his tale - the tale of the +Pechod Ysprydd Glan.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Taking a cup - Getting to heaven - After breakfast - Wooden gallery +- Mechanical habit - Reserved and gloomy - Last words - A long time +- From the clouds - Ray of hope - Momentary chill - Pleasing anticipation.<br> +<br> +‘I was born in the heart of North Wales, the son of a respectable +farmer, and am the youngest of seven brothers.<br> +<br> +‘My father was a member of the Church of England, and was what +is generally called a serious man. He went to church regularly, +and read the Bible every Sunday evening; in his moments of leisure he +was fond of holding religious discourse both with his family and his +neighbours.<br> +<br> +‘One autumn afternoon, on a week day, my father sat with one of +his neighbours taking a cup of ale by the oak table in our stone kitchen. +I sat near them, and listened to their discourse. I was at that +time seven years of age. They were talking of religious matters. +“It is a hard matter to get to heaven,” said my father. +“Exceedingly so,” said the other. “However, +I don’t despond; none need despair of getting to heaven, save +those who have committed the sin against the Holy Ghost.”<br> +<br> +‘“Ah!” said my father, “thank God I never committed +that - how awful must be the state of a person who has committed the +sin against the Holy Ghost. I can scarcely think of it without +my hair standing on end”; and then my father and his friend began +talking of the nature of the sin against the Holy Ghost, and I heard +them say what it was, as I sat with greedy ears listening to their discourse.<br> +<br> +‘I lay awake the greater part of the night musing upon what I +had heard. I kept wondering to myself what must be the state of +a person who had committed the sin against the Holy Ghost, and how he +must feel. Once or twice I felt a strong inclination to commit +it, a strange kind of fear, however, prevented me; at last I determined +not to commit it, and, having said my prayers, I fell asleep.<br> +<br> +‘When I awoke in the morning the first thing I thought of was +the mysterious sin, and a voice within me seemed to say, “Commit +it”; and I felt a strong temptation to do so, even stronger than +in the night. I was just about to yield, when the same dread, +of which I have already spoken, came over me, and, springing out of +bed, I went down on my knees. I slept in a small room alone, to +which I ascended by a wooden stair, open to the sky. I have often +thought since that it is not a good thing for children to sleep alone.<br> +<br> +‘After breakfast I went to school, and endeavoured to employ myself +upon my tasks, but all in vain; I could think of nothing but the sin +against the Holy Ghost; my eyes, instead of being fixed upon my book, +wandered in vacancy. My master observed my inattention, and chid +me. The time came for saying my task, and I had not acquired it. +My master reproached me, and, yet more, he beat me; I felt shame and +anger, and I went home with a full determination to commit the sin against +the Holy Ghost.<br> +<br> +‘But when I got home my father ordered me to do something connected +with the farm, so that I was compelled to exert myself; I was occupied +till night, and was so busy that I almost forgot the sin and my late +resolution. My work completed, I took my supper, and went to my +room; I began my prayers, and, when they were ended, I thought of the +sin, but the temptation was slight, I felt very tired, and was presently +asleep.<br> +<br> +‘Thus, you see, I had plenty of time allotted me by a gracious +and kind God to reflect on what I was about to do. He did not +permit the enemy of souls to take me by surprise, and to hurry me at +once into the commission of that which was to be my ruin here and hereafter. +Whatever I did was of my own free will, after I had had time to reflect. +Thus God is justified; He had no hand in my destruction, but, on the +contrary, He did all that was compatible with justice to prevent it. +I hasten to the fatal moment. Awaking in the night, I determined +that nothing should prevent my committing the sin. Arising from +my bed, I went out upon the wooden gallery; and having stood for a few +moments looking at the stars, with which the heavens were thickly strewn, +I laid myself down, and supporting my face with my hand, I murmured +out words of horror, words not to be repeated, and in this manner I +committed the sin against the Holy Ghost.<br> +<br> +‘When the words were uttered I sat up upon the topmost step of +the gallery; for some time I felt stunned in somewhat the same manner +as I once subsequently felt after being stung by an adder. I soon +arose, however, and retired to my bed, where, notwithstanding what I +had done, I was not slow in falling asleep.<br> +<br> +‘I awoke several times during the night, each time with the dim +idea that something strange and monstrous had occurred, but I presently +fell asleep again; in the morning I awoke with the same vague feeling, +but presently recollection returned, and I remembered that I had committed +the sin against the Holy Ghost. I lay musing for some time on +what I had done, and I felt rather stunned, as before; at last I arose +and got out of bed, dressed myself, and then went down on my knees, +and was about to pray from the force of mechanical habit; before I said +a word, however, I recollected myself, and got up again. What +was the use of praying? I thought; I had committed the sin against +the Holy Ghost.<br> +<br> +‘I went to school, but sat stupefied. I was again chidden, +again beaten, by my master. I felt no anger this time, and scarcely +heeded the strokes. I looked, however, at my master’s face, +and thought to myself, you are beating me for being idle, as you suppose; +poor man, what would you do if you knew I had committed the sin against +the Holy Ghost?<br> +<br> +‘Days and weeks passed by. I had once been cheerful, and +fond of the society of children of my own age; but I was now reserved +and gloomy. It seemed to me that a gulf separated me from all +my fellow-creatures. I used to look at my brothers and schoolfellows, +and think how different I was from them; they had not done what I had. +I seemed, in my own eyes, a lone monstrous being, and yet, strange to +say, I felt a kind of pride in being so. I was unhappy, but I +frequently thought to myself, I have done what no one else would dare +to do; there was something grand in the idea; I had yet to learn the +horror of my condition.<br> +<br> +‘Time passed on, and I began to think less of what I had done; +I began once more to take pleasure in my childish sports; I was active, +and excelled at football and the like all the lads of my age. +I likewise began, what I had never done before, to take pleasure in +the exercises of the school. I made great progress in Welsh and +English grammar, and learnt to construe Latin. My master no longer +chid or beat me, but one day told my father that he had no doubt that +one day I should be an honour to Wales.<br> +<br> +‘Shortly after this my father fell sick; the progress of the disorder +was rapid; feeling his end approaching, he called his children before +him. After tenderly embracing us, he said “God bless you, +my children, I am going from you, but take comfort, I trust that we +shall all meet again in heaven.”<br> +<br> +‘As he uttered these last words, horror took entire possession +of me. Meet my father in heaven, - how could I ever hope to meet +him there? I looked wildly at my brethren and at my mother; they +were all bathed in tears, but how I envied them. They might hope +to meet my father in heaven, but how different were they from me, they +had never committed the unpardonable sin.<br> +<br> +‘In a few days my father died; he left his family in comfortable +circumstances, at least such as would be considered so in Wales, where +the wants of the people are few. My elder brother carried on the +farm for the benefit of my mother and us all. In course of time +my brothers were put out to various trades. I still remained at +school, but without being a source of expense to my relations, as I +was by this time able to assist my master in the business of the school.<br> +<br> +‘I was diligent both in self-improvement and in the instruction +of others; nevertheless, a horrible weight pressed upon my breast; I +knew I was a lost being; that for me there was no hope; that, though +all others might be saved, I must of necessity be lost; I had committed +the unpardonable sin, for which I was doomed to eternal punishment, +in the flaming gulf, as soon as life was over! - and how long could +I hope to live? perhaps fifty years; at the end of which I must go to +my place; and then I would count the months and the days, nay, even +the hours, which yet intervened between me and my doom. Sometimes +I would comfort myself with the idea that a long time would elapse before +my time would be out; but then again I thought that, however long the +term might be, it must be out at last; and then I would fall into an +agony, during which I would almost wish that the term were out, and +that I were in my place; the horrors of which I thought could scarcely +be worse than what I then endured.<br> +<br> +‘There was one thought about this time which caused me unutterable +grief and shame, perhaps more shame than grief. It was that my +father, who was gone to heaven, and was there daily holding communion +with his God, was by this time aware of my crime. I imagined him +looking down from the clouds upon his wretched son, with a countenance +of inexpressible horror. When this idea was upon me, I would often +rush to some secret place to hide myself; to some thicket, where I would +cast myself on the ground, and thrust my head into a thick bush, in +order to escape from the horror-struck glance of my father above in +the clouds; and there I would continue groaning till the agony had, +in some degree, passed away.<br> +<br> +‘The wretchedness of my state increasing daily, it at last became +apparent to the master of the school, who questioned me earnestly and +affectionately. I, however, gave him no satisfactory answer, being +apprehensive that, if I unbosomed myself, I should become as much an +object of horror to him as I had long been to myself. At length +he suspected that I was unsettled in my intellects; and, fearing probably +the ill effect of my presence upon his scholars, he advised me to go +home; which I was glad to do, as I felt myself every day becoming less +qualified for the duties of the office which I had undertaken.<br> +<br> +‘So I returned home to my mother and my brother, who received +me with the greatest kindness and affection. I now determined +to devote myself to husbandry, and assist my brother in the business +of the farm. I was still, however, very much distressed. +One fine morning, however, as I was at work in the field, and the birds +were carolling around me, a ray of hope began to break upon my poor +dark soul. I looked at the earth and looked at the sky, and felt +as I had not done for many a year; presently a delicious feeling stole +over me. I was beginning to enjoy existence. I shall never +forget that hour. I flung myself on the soil, and kissed it; then, +springing up with a sudden impulse, I rushed into the depths of a neighbouring +wood, and, falling upon my knees, did what I had not done for a long, +long time - prayed to God.<br> +<br> +‘A change, an entire change, seemed to have come over me. +I was no longer gloomy and despairing, but gay and happy. My slumbers +were light and easy; not disturbed, as before, by frightful dreams. +I arose with the lark, and like him uttered a cheerful song of praise +to God, frequently and earnestly, and was particularly cautious not +to do anything which I considered might cause His displeasure.<br> +<br> +‘At church I was constant, and when there listened with deepest +attention to every word which proceeded from the mouth of the minister. +In a little time it appeared to me that I had become a good, very good, +young man. At times the recollection of the sin would return, +and I would feel a momentary chill; but the thought quickly vanished, +and I again felt happy and secure.<br> +<br> +‘One Sunday morning, after I had said my prayers, I felt particularly +joyous. I thought of the innocent and virtuous life I was leading; +and when the recollection of the sin intruded for a moment, said, “I +am sure God will never utterly cast away so good a creature as myself.” +I went to church, and was as usual attentive. The subject of the +sermon was on the duty of searching the Scriptures: all I knew of them +was from the liturgy. I now, however, determined to read them, +and perfect the good work which I had begun. My father’s +Bible was upon the shelf, and on that evening I took it with me to my +chamber. I placed it on the table, and sat down. My heart +was filled with pleasing anticipation. I opened the book at random, +and began to read; the first passage on which my eyes lighted was the +following:-<br> +<br> +‘“He who committeth the sin against the Holy Ghost shall +not be forgiven, either in this world or the next.”’<br> +<br> +Here Peter was seized with convulsive tremors. Winifred sobbed +violently. I got up, and went away. Returning in about a +quarter of an hour, I found him more calm; he motioned me to sit down; +and, after a short pause, continued his narration.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXVI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Hasty farewell - Lofty rock - Wrestlings of Jacob - No rest - Ways of +Providence - Two females - Foot of the Cross - Enemy of souls - Perplexed +- Lucky hour - Valetudinarian - Methodists - Fervent in prayer - You +Saxons - Weak creatures - Very agreeable - Almost happy - Kindness and +solicitude.<br> +<br> +‘Where was I, young man? Oh, I remember, at the fatal passage +which removed all hope. I will not dwell on what I felt. +I closed my eyes, and wished that I might be dreaming; but it was no +dream, but a terrific reality: I will not dwell on that period, I should +only shock you. I could not bear my feelings; so, bidding my friends +a hasty farewell, I abandoned myself to horror and despair, and ran +wild through Wales, climbing mountains and wading streams.<br> +<br> +‘Climbing mountains and wading streams, I ran wild about, I was +burnt by the sun, drenched by the rain, and had frequently at night +no other covering than the sky, or the humid roof of some cave; but +nothing seemed to affect my constitution; probably the fire which burned +within me counteracted what I suffered from without. During the +space of three years I scarcely knew what befell me; my life was a dream +- a wild, horrible dream; more than once I believe I was in the hands +of robbers, and once in the hands of gypsies. I liked the last +description of people least of all; I could not abide their yellow faces, +or their ceaseless clabber. Escaping from these beings, whose +countenances and godless discourse brought to my mind the demons of +the deep Unknown, I still ran wild through Wales, I know not how long. +On one occasion, coming in some degree to my recollection, I felt myself +quite unable to bear the horrors of my situation; looking round I found +myself near the sea; instantly the idea came into my head that I would +cast myself into it, and thus anticipate my final doom. I hesitated +a moment, but a voice within me seemed to tell me that I could do no +better; the sea was near, and I could not swim, so I determined to fling +myself into the sea. As I was running along at great speed, in +the direction of a lofty rock, which beetled over the waters, I suddenly +felt myself seized by the coat. I strove to tear myself away, +but in vain; looking round, I perceived a venerable hale old man, who +had hold of me. “Let me go!” said I, fiercely. +“I will not let thee go,” said the old man, and now, instead +of with one, he grappled me with both hands. “In whose name +dost thou detain me?” said I, scarcely knowing what I said. +“In the name of my Master, who made thee and yonder sea; and has +said to the sea, So far shalt thou come, and no farther, and to thee, +Thou shalt do no murder.” “Has not a man a right to +do what he pleases with his own?” said I. “He has,” +said the old man, “but thy life is not thy own; thou art accountable +for it to thy God. Nay, I will not let thee go,” he continued, +as I again struggled; “if thou struggle with me the whole day +I will not let thee go, as Charles Wesley says, in his ‘Wrestlings +of Jacob’; and see, it is of no use struggling, for I am, in the +strength of my Master, stronger than thou”; and indeed, all of +a sudden I had become very weak and exhausted; whereupon the old man, +beholding my situation, took me by the arm and led me gently to a neighbouring +town, which stood behind a hill, and which I had not before observed; +presently he opened the door of a respectable-looking house, which stood +beside a large building having the appearance of a chapel, and conducted +me into a small room, with a great many books in it. Having caused +me to sit down, he stood looking at me for some time, occasionally heaving +a sigh. I was, indeed, haggard and forlorn. “Who art +thou?” he said at last. “A miserable man,” I +replied. “What makes thee miserable?” said the old +man. “A hideous crime,” I replied. “I +can find no rest; like Cain I wander here and there.” The +old man turned pale. “Hast thou taken another’s life?” +said he; “if so, I advise thee to surrender thyself to the magistrate; +thou canst do no better; thy doing so will be the best proof of thy +repentance; and though there be no hope for thee in this world there +may be much in the next.” “No,” said I, “I +have never taken another’s life.” “What then, +another’s goods? If so, restore them sevenfold, if possible: +or, if it be not in thy power, and thy conscience accuse thee, surrender +thyself to the magistrate, and make the only satisfaction thou art able.” +“I have taken no one’s goods,” said I. “Of +what art thou guilty, then?” said he. “Art thou a +drunkard? a profligate?” “Alas, no,” said I; +“I am neither of these; would that I were no worse.”<br> +<br> +‘Thereupon the old man looked steadfastly at me for some time; +then, after appearing to reflect, he said, “Young man, I have +a great desire to know your name.” “What matters it +to you what is my name?” said I; “you know nothing of me.” +“Perhaps you are mistaken,” said the old man, looking kindly +at me; “but at all events tell me your name.” I hesitated +a moment, and then told him who I was, whereupon he exclaimed with much +emotion, “I thought so; how wonderful are the ways of Providence. +I have heard of thee, young man, and know thy mother well. Only +a month ago, when upon a journey, I experienced much kindness from her. +She was speaking to me of her lost child, with tears; she told me that +you were one of the best of sons, but that some strange idea appeared +to have occupied your mind. Despair not, my son. If thou +hast been afflicted, I doubt not but that thy affliction will eventually +turn out to thy benefit; I doubt not but that thou wilt be preserved, +as an example of the great mercy of God. I will now kneel down +and pray for thee, my son.”<br> +<br> +‘He knelt down, and prayed long and fervently. I remained +standing for some time; at length I knelt down likewise. I scarcely +knew what he was saying, but when he concluded I said “Amen.”<br> +<br> +‘And when we had risen from our knees, the old man left me for +a short time, and on his return led me into another room, where were +two females; one was an elderly person, the wife of the old man, - the +other was a young woman of very prepossessing appearance (hang not down +thy head, Winifred), who I soon found was a distant relation of the +old man, - both received me with great kindness, the old man having +doubtless previously told them who I was.<br> +<br> +‘I stayed several days in the good man’s house. I +had still the greater portion of a small sum which I happened to have +about me when I departed on my dolorous wandering, and with this I purchased +clothes, and altered my appearance considerably. On the evening +of the second day my friend said, “I am going to preach, perhaps +you will come and hear me.” I consented, and we all went, +not to a church, but to the large building next the house; for the old +man, though a clergyman, was not of the established persuasion, and +there the old man mounted a pulpit, and began to preach. “Come +unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden,” etc. etc., was +his text. His sermon was long, but I still bear the greater portion +of it in my mind.<br> +<br> +‘The substance of it was that Jesus was at all times ready to +take upon Himself the burden of our sins, provided we came to Him with +a humble and contrite spirit, and begged His help. This doctrine +was new to me; I had often been at church, but had never heard it preached +before, at least so distinctly. When he said that all men might +be saved, I shook, for I expected he would add, all except those who +had committed the mysterious sin; but no, all men were to be saved who +with a humble and contrite spirit would come to Jesus, cast themselves +at the foot of His cross, and accept pardon through the merits of His +blood-shedding alone. “Therefore, my friends,” said +he, in conclusion, “despair not - however guilty you may be, despair +not - however desperate your condition may seem,” said he, fixing +his eyes upon me, “despair not. There is nothing more foolish +and more wicked than despair; over-weening confidence is not more foolish +than despair; both are the favourite weapons of the enemy of souls.”<br> +<br> +‘This discourse gave rise in my mind to no slight perplexity. +I had read in the Scriptures that he who committeth a certain sin shall +never be forgiven, and that there is no hope for him either in this +world or the next. And here was a man, a good man certainly, and +one who, of necessity, was thoroughly acquainted with the Scriptures, +who told me that any one might be forgiven, however wicked, who would +only trust in Christ and in the merits of His blood-shedding. +Did I believe in Christ? Ay, truly. Was I willing to be +saved by Christ? Ay, truly. Did I trust in Christ? +I trusted that Christ would save every one but myself. And why +not myself? simply because the Scriptures had told me that he who has +committed the sin against the Holy Ghost can never be saved, and I had +committed the sin against the Holy Ghost, - perhaps the only one who +ever had committed it. How could I hope? The Scriptures +could not lie, and yet here was this good old man, profoundly versed +in the Scriptures, who bade me hope; would he lie? No. But +did the old man know my case? Ah, no, he did not know my case! +but yet he had bid me hope, whatever I had done, provided I would go +to Jesus. But how could I think of going to Jesus, when the Scriptures +told me plainly that all would be useless? I was perplexed, and +yet a ray of hope began to dawn in my soul. I thought of consulting +the good man, but I was afraid he would drive away the small glimmer. +I was afraid he would say, “Oh yes, every one is to be saved, +except a wretch like you; I was not aware before that there was anything +so horrible, - begone!” Once or twice the old man questioned +me on the subject of my misery, but I evaded him; once, indeed, when +he looked particularly benevolent, I think I should have unbosomed myself +to him, but we were interrupted. He never pressed me much; perhaps +he was delicate in probing my mind, as we were then of different persuasions. +Hence he advised me to seek the advice of some powerful minister in +my own church; there were many such in it, he said.<br> +<br> +‘I stayed several days in the family, during which time I more +than once heard my venerable friend preach; each time he preached, he +exhorted his hearers not to despair. The whole family were kind +to me; his wife frequently discoursed with me, and also the young person +to whom I have already alluded. It appeared to me that the latter +took a peculiar interest in my fate.<br> +<br> +‘At last my friend said to me, “It is now time thou shouldest +return to thy mother and thy brother.” So I arose, and departed +to my mother and my brother; and at my departure my old friend gave +me his blessing, and his wife and the young person shed tears, the last +especially. And when my mother saw me, she shed tears, and fell +on my neck and kissed me, and my brother took me by the hand and bade +me welcome; and when our first emotions were subsided, my mother said, +“I trust thou art come in a lucky hour. A few weeks ago +my cousin (whose favourite thou always wast) died and left thee his +heir - left thee the goodly farm in which he lived. I trust, my +son, that thou wilt now settle, and be a comfort to me in my old days.” +And I answered, “I will, if so please the Lord”; and I said +to myself, “God grant that this bequest be a token of the Lord’s +favour.”<br> +<br> +‘And in a few days I departed to take possession of my farm; it +was about twenty miles from my mother’s house, in a beautiful +but rather wild district; I arrived at the fall of the leaf. All +day long I busied myself with my farm, and thus kept my mind employed. +At night, however, I felt rather solitary, and I frequently wished for +a companion. Each night and morning I prayed fervently unto the +Lord; for His hand had been very heavy upon me, and I feared Him.<br> +<br> +‘There was one thing connected with my new abode which gave me +considerable uneasiness - the want of spiritual instruction. There +was a church, indeed, close at hand, in which service was occasionally +performed, but in so hurried and heartless a manner that I derived little +benefit from it. The clergyman to whom the benefice belonged was +a valetudinarian, who passed his time in London, or at some watering-place, +entrusting the care of his flock to the curate of a distant parish, +who gave himself very little trouble about the matter. Now I wanted +every Sunday to hear from the pulpit words of consolation and encouragement, +similar to those which I had heard uttered from the pulpit by my good +and venerable friend, but I was debarred from this privilege. +At length, one day being in conversation with one of my labourers, a +staid and serious man, I spoke to him of the matter which lay heavy +upon my mind; whereupon, looking me wistfully in the face, he said, +“Master, the want of religious instruction in my church was what +drove me to the Methodists.” “The Methodists,” +said I, “are there any in these parts?” “There +is a chapel,” said he, “only half a mile distant, at which +there are two services every Sunday, and other two during the week.” +Now it happened that my venerable friend was of the Methodist persuasion, +and when I heard the poor man talk in this manner, I said to him, “May +I go with you next Sunday?” “Why not?” said +he; so I went with the labourer on the ensuing Sabbath to the meeting +of the Methodists.<br> +<br> +‘I liked the preaching which I heard at the chapel very well, +though it was not quite so comfortable as that of my old friend, the +preacher being in some respects a different kind of man. It, however, +did me good, and I went again, and continued to do so, though I did +not become a regular member of the body at that time.<br> +<br> +‘I had now the benefit of religious instruction, and also to a +certain extent of religious fellowship, for the preacher and various +members of his flock frequently came to see me. They were honest +plain men, not exactly of the description which I wished for, but still +good sort of people, and I was glad to see them. Once on a time, +when some of them were with me, one of them inquired whether I was fervent +in prayer. “Very fervent,” said I. “And +do you read the Scriptures often?” said he. “No,” +said I. “Why not?” said he. “Because I +am afraid to see there my own condemnation.” They looked +at each other, and said nothing at the time. On leaving me, however, +they all advised me to read the Scriptures with fervency and prayer.<br> +<br> +‘As I had told these honest people, I shrank from searching the +Scriptures; the remembrance of the fatal passage was still too vivid +in my mind to permit me. I did not wish to see my condemnation +repeated, but I was very fervent in prayer, and almost hoped that God +would yet forgive me by virtue of the blood-shedding of the Lamb. +Time passed on, my affairs prospered, and I enjoyed a certain portion +of tranquillity. Occasionally, when I had nothing else to do, +I renewed my studies. Many is the book I read, especially in my +native language, for I was always fond of my native language, and proud +of being a Welshman. Amongst the books I read were the odes of +the great Ab Gwilym, whom thou, friend, hast never heard of; no, nor +any of thy countrymen, for you are an ignorant race, you Saxons, at +least with respect to all that relates to Wales and Welshmen. +I likewise read the book of Master Ellis Wyn. The latter work +possessed a singular fascination for me, on account of its wonderful +delineations of the torments of the nether world.<br> +<br> +‘But man does not love to be alone; indeed, the Scripture says +that it is not good for man to be alone. I occupied my body with +the pursuits of husbandry, and I improved my mind with the perusal of +good and wise books; but, as I have already said, I frequently sighed +for a companion with whom I could exchange ideas, and who could take +an interest in my pursuits; the want of such a one I more particularly +felt in the long winter evenings. It was then that the image of +the young person whom I had seen in the house of the preacher frequently +rose up distinctly before my mind’s eye, decked with quiet graces +- hang not down your head, Winifred - and I thought that of all the +women in the world I should wish her to be my partner, and then I considered +whether it would be possible to obtain her. I am ready to acknowledge, +friend, that it was both selfish and wicked in me to wish to fetter +any human being to a lost creature like myself, conscious of having +committed a crime for which the Scriptures told me there is no pardon. +I had, indeed, a long struggle as to whether I should make the attempt +or not - selfishness however prevailed. I will not detain your +attention with relating all that occurred at this period - suffice it +to say that I made my suit and was successful; it is true that the old +man, who was her guardian, hesitated, and asked several questions respecting +my state of mind. I am afraid that I partly deceived him, perhaps +he partly deceived himself; he was pleased that I had adopted his profession +- we are all weak creatures. With respect to the young person, +she did not ask many questions; and I soon found that I had won her +heart. To be brief, I married her; and here she is, the truest +wife that ever man had, and the kindest. Kind I may well call +her, seeing that she shrinks not from me, who so cruelly deceived her, +in not telling her at first what I was. I married her, friend; +and brought her home to my little possession, where we passed our time +very agreeably. Our affairs prospered, our garners were full, +and there was coin in our purse. I worked in the field; Winifred +busied herself with the dairy. At night I frequently read books +to her, books of my own country, friend; I likewise read to her songs +of my own, holy songs and carols which she admired, and which yourself +would perhaps admire, could you understand them; but I repeat, you Saxons +are an ignorant people with respect to us, and a perverse, inasmuch +as you despise Welsh without understanding it. Every night I prayed +fervently, and my wife admired my gift of prayer.<br> +<br> +‘One night, after I had been reading to my wife a portion of Ellis +Wyn, my wife said, “This is a wonderful book, and containing much +true and pleasant doctrine; but how is it that you, who are so fond +of good books, and good things in general, never read the Bible? +You read me the book of Master Ellis Wyn, you read me sweet songs of +your own composition, you edify me with your gift of prayer, but yet +you never read the Bible.” And when I heard her mention +the Bible I shook, for I thought of my own condemnation. However, +I dearly loved my wife, and as she pressed me, I commenced on that very +night reading the Bible. All went on smoothly for a long time; +for months and months I did not find the fatal passage, so that I almost +thought that I had imagined it. My affairs prospered much the +while, so that I was almost happy, - taking pleasure in everything around +me, - in my wife, in my farm, my books and compositions, and the Welsh +language; till one night, as I was reading the Bible, feeling particularly +comfortable, a thought having just come into my head that I would print +some of my compositions, and purchase a particular field of a neighbour +- O God - God! I came to the fatal passage.<br> +<br> +‘Friend, friend, what shall I say? I rushed out. My +wife followed me, asking me what was the matter. I could only +answer with groans - for three days and three nights I did little else +than groan. Oh the kindness and solicitude of my wife! “What +is the matter husband, dear husband?” she was continually saying. +I became at last more calm. My wife still persisted in asking +me the cause of my late paroxysm. It is hard to keep a secret +from a wife, especially such a wife as mine, so I told my wife the tale, +as we sat one night - it was a mid-winter night - over the dying brands +of our hearth, after the family had retired to rest, her hand locked +in mine, even as it is now.<br> +<br> +‘I thought she would have shrunk from me with horror; but she +did not; her hand, it is true, trembled once or twice; but that was +all. At last she gave mine a gentle pressure; and, looking up +in my face, she said - what do you think my wife said, young man?’<br> +<br> +‘It is impossible for me to guess,’ said I.<br> +<br> +“Let us go to rest, my love; your fears are all groundless.”’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXVII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Getting late - Seven years old - Chastening - Go forth - London Bridge +- Same eyes - Common occurrence - Very sleepy.<br> +<br> +‘And so I still say,’ said Winifred, sobbing. ‘Let +us retire to rest, dear husband; your fears are groundless. I +had hoped long since that your affliction would have passed away, and +I still hope that it eventually will; so take heart, Peter, and let +us retire to rest, for it is getting late.’<br> +<br> +‘Rest!’ said Peter; ‘there is no rest for the wicked!’<br> +<br> +‘We are all wicked,’ said Winifred; ‘but you are afraid +of a shadow. How often have I told you that the sin of your heart +is not the sin against the Holy Ghost: the sin of your heart is its +natural pride, of which you are scarcely aware, to keep down which God +in His mercy permitted you to be terrified with the idea of having committed +a sin which you never committed.’<br> +<br> +‘Then you will still maintain,’ said Peter, ‘that +I never committed the sin against the Holy Spirit?’<br> +<br> +‘I will,’ said Winifred; ‘you never committed it. +How should a child seven years old commit a sin like that?’<br> +<br> +‘Have I not read my own condemnation?’ said Peter. +‘Did not the first words which I read in the Holy Scripture condemn +me? “He who committeth the sin against the Holy Ghost shall +never enter into the kingdom of God.”’<br> +<br> +‘You never committed it,’ said Winifred.<br> +<br> +‘But the words! the words! the words!’ said Peter.<br> +<br> +‘The words are true words,’ said Winifred, sobbing; ‘but +they were not meant for you, but for those who have broken their profession, +who, having embraced the cross, have receded from their Master.’<br> +<br> +‘And what sayst thou to the effect which the words produced upon +me?’ said Peter. ‘Did they not cause me to run wild +through Wales for years, like Merddin Wyllt of yore; thinkest thou that +I opened the book at that particular passage by chance?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said Winifred, ‘not by chance; it was the hand +of God directed you, doubtless for some wise purpose. You had +become satisfied with yourself. The Lord wished to rouse thee +from thy state of carnal security, and therefore directed your eyes +to that fearful passage.’<br> +<br> +‘Does the Lord then carry out His designs by means of guile?’ +said Peter with a groan. ‘Is not the Lord true? Would +the Lord impress upon me that I had committed a sin of which I am guiltless? +Hush, Winifred! hush! thou knowest that I have committed the sin.’<br> +<br> +‘Thou hast not committed it,’ said Winifred, sobbing yet +more violently. ‘Were they my last words, I would persist +that thou hast not committed it, though, perhaps, thou wouldst, but +for this chastening; it was not to convince thee that thou hast committed +the sin, but rather to prevent thee from committing it, that the Lord +brought that passage before thy eyes. He is not to blame, if thou +art wilfully blind to the truth and wisdom of His ways.’<br> +<br> +‘I see thou wouldst comfort me,’ said Peter, ‘as thou +hast often before attempted to do. I would fain ask the young +man his opinion.’<br> +<br> +‘I have not yet heard the whole of your history,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘My story is nearly told,’ said Peter; ‘a few words +will complete it. My wife endeavoured to console and reassure +me, using the arguments which you have just heard her use, and many +others, but in vain. Peace nor comfort came to my breast. +I was rapidly falling into the depths of despair; when one day Winifred +said to me, “I see thou wilt be lost, if we remain here. +One resource only remains. Thou must go forth, my husband, into +the wide world, and to comfort thee I will go with thee.” +“And what can I do in the wide world?” said I, despondingly. +“Much,” replied Winifred, “if you will but exert yourself; +much good canst thou do with the blessing of God.” Many +things of the same kind she said to me; and at last I arose from the +earth to which God had smitten me, and disposed of my property in the +best way I could, and went into the world. We did all the good +we were able, visiting the sick, ministering to the sick, and praying +with the sick. At last I became celebrated as the possessor of +a great gift of prayer. And people urged me to preach, and Winifred +urged me too, and at last I consented, and I preached. I - I - +outcast Peter, became the preacher Peter Williams. I, the lost +one, attempted to show others the right road. And in this way +I have gone on for thirteen years, preaching and teaching, visiting +the sick, and ministering to them, with Winifred by my side heartening +me on. Occasionally I am visited with fits of indescribable agony, +generally on the night before the Sabbath; for I then ask myself, how +dare I, the outcast, attempt to preach the word of God? Young +man, my tale is told; you seem in thought!’<br> +<br> +‘I am thinking of London Bridge,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Of London Bridge!’ said Peter and his wife.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘of London Bridge. I am indebted +for much wisdom to London Bridge; it was there that I completed my studies. +But to the point. I was once reading on London Bridge a book which +an ancient gentlewoman, who kept the bridge, was in the habit of lending +me; and there I found written, “Each one carries in his breast +the recollection of some sin which presses heavy upon him. Oh, +if men could but look into each other’s hearts, what blackness +would they find there!”’<br> +<br> +‘That’s true,’ said Peter. ‘What is the +name of the book?’<br> +<br> +‘<i>The Life of Blessed Mary Flanders</i>.’<br> +<br> +‘Some popish saint, I suppose,’ said Peter.<br> +<br> +‘As much of a saint, I daresay,’ said I, ‘as most +popish ones; but you interrupted me. One part of your narrative +brought the passage which I have quoted into my mind. You said +that after you had committed this same sin of yours you were in the +habit, at school, of looking upon your schoolfellows with a kind of +gloomy superiority, considering yourself a lone monstrous being who +had committed a sin far above the daring of any of them. Are you +sure that many others of your schoolfellows were not looking upon you +and the others with much the same eyes with which you were looking upon +them?’<br> +<br> +‘How!’ said Peter, ‘dost thou think that they had +divined my secret?’<br> +<br> +‘Not they,’ said I, ‘they were, I daresay, thinking +too much of themselves and of their own concerns to have divined any +secrets of yours. All I mean to say is, they had probably secrets +of their own, and who knows that the secret sin of more than one of +them was not the very sin which caused you so much misery?’<br> +<br> +‘Dost thou then imagine,’ said Peter, ‘the sin against +the Holy Ghost to be so common an occurrence?’<br> +<br> +‘As you have described it,’ said I, ‘of very common +occurrence, especially amongst children, who are, indeed, the only beings +likely to commit it.’<br> +<br> +‘Truly,’ said Winifred, ‘the young man talks wisely.’<br> +<br> +Peter was silent for some moments, and appeared to be reflecting; at +last, suddenly raising his head, he looked me full in the face, and, +grasping my hand with vehemence, he said, ‘Tell me, young man, +only one thing, hast thou, too, committed the sin against the Holy Ghost?’<br> +<br> +‘I am neither Papist nor Methodist,’ said I, ‘but +of the Church, and, being so, confess myself to no one, but keep my +own counsel; I will tell thee, however, had I committed, at the same +age, twenty such sins as that which you committed, I should feel no +uneasiness at these years - but I am sleepy, and must go to rest.’<br> +<br> +‘God bless thee, young man,’ said Winifred.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXVIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Low and calm - Much better - Blessed effect - No answer - Such a sermon.<br> +<br> +Before I sank to rest I heard Winifred and her husband conversing in +the place where I had left them; both their voices were low and calm. +I soon fell asleep, and slumbered for some time. On my awakening +I again heard them conversing, but they were now in their cart; still +the voices of both were calm. I heard no passionate bursts of +wild despair on the part of the man. Methought I occasionally +heard the word Pechod proceeding from the lips of each, but with no +particular emphasis. I supposed they were talking of the innate +sin of both their hearts.<br> +<br> +‘I wish that man were happy,’ said I to myself, ‘were +it only for his wife’s sake, and yet he deserves to be happy for +his own.’<br> +<br> +The next day Peter was very cheerful, more cheerful than I had ever +seen him. At breakfast his conversation was animated, and he smiled +repeatedly. I looked at him with the greatest interest, and the +eyes of his wife were almost constantly fixed upon him. A shade +of gloom would occasionally come over his countenance, but it almost +instantly disappeared; perhaps it proceeded more from habit than anything +else. After breakfast he took his Welsh Bible and sat down beneath +a tree. His eyes were soon fixed intently on the volume; now and +then he would call his wife, show her some passage, and appeared to +consult with her. The day passed quickly and comfortably.<br> +<br> +‘Your husband seems much better,’ said I, at evening fall, +to Winifred, as we chanced to be alone.<br> +<br> +‘He does,’ said Winifred; ‘and that on the day of +the week when he was wont to appear most melancholy, for to-morrow is +the Sabbath. He now no longer looks forward to the Sabbath with +dread, but appears to reckon on it. What a happy change! and to +think that this change should have been produced by a few words, seemingly +careless ones, proceeding from the mouth of one who is almost a stranger +to him. Truly, it is wonderful.’<br> +<br> +‘To whom do you allude,’ said I; ‘and to what words?’<br> +<br> +‘To yourself, and to the words which came from your lips last +night, after you had heard my poor husband’s history. Those +strange words, drawn out with so much seeming indifference, have produced +in my husband the blessed effect which you have observed. They +have altered the current of his ideas. He no longer thinks himself +the only being in the world doomed to destruction, - the only being +capable of committing the never-to-be-forgiven sin. Your supposition +that that which harrowed his soul is of frequent occurrence amongst +children has tranquillised him; the mist which hung over his mind has +cleared away, and he begins to see the groundlessness of his apprehensions. +The Lord has permitted him to be chastened for a season, but his lamp +will only burn the brighter for what he has undergone.’<br> +<br> +Sunday came, fine and glorious as the last. Again my friends and +myself breakfasted together - again the good family of the house on +the hill above, headed by the respectable master, descended to the meadow. +Peter and his wife were ready to receive them. Again Peter placed +himself at the side of the honest farmer, and Winifred by the side of +her friend. ‘Wilt thou not come?’ said Peter, looking +towards me with a face in which there was much emotion. ‘Wilt +thou not come?’ said Winifred, with a face beaming with kindness. +But I made no answer, and presently the party moved away, in the same +manner in which it had moved on the preceding Sabbath, and I was again +left alone.<br> +<br> +The hours of the Sabbath passed slowly away. I sat gazing at the +sky, the trees, and the water. At last I strolled up to the house +and sat down in the porch. It was empty; there was no modest maiden +there, as on the preceding Sabbath. The damsel of the book had +accompanied the rest. I had seen her in the procession, and the +house appeared quite deserted. The owners had probably left it +to my custody, so I sat down in the porch, quite alone. The hours +of the Sabbath passed heavily away.<br> +<br> +At last evening came, and with it the party of the morning. I +was now at my place beneath the oak. I went forward to meet them. +Peter and his wife received me with a calm and quiet greeting, and passed +forward. The rest of the party had broken into groups. There +was a kind of excitement amongst them, and much eager whispering. +I went to one of the groups; the young girl of whom I have spoken more +than once was speaking: ‘Such a sermon,’ said she, ‘it +has never been our lot to hear; Peter never before spoke as he has done +this day - he was always a powerful preacher, but oh, the unction of +the discourse of this morning, and yet more of that of the afternoon, +which was the continuation of it!’ ‘What was the subject?’ +said I, interrupting her. ‘Ah! you should have been there, +young man, to have heard it; it would have made a lasting impression +upon you. I was bathed in tears all the time; those who heard +it will never forget the preaching of the good Peter Williams on the +Power, Providence, and Goodness of God.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXIX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Deep interest - Goodly country - Two mansions - Welshman’s Candle +- Beautiful universe - Godly discourse - Fine church - Points of doctrine +- Strange adventures - Paltry cause - Roman pontiff - Evil spirit.<br> +<br> +On the morrow I said to my friends, ‘I am about to depart; farewell!’ +‘Depart!’ said Peter and his wife, simultaneously; ‘whither +wouldst thou go?’ ‘I can’t stay here all my +days,’ I replied. ‘Of course not,’ said Peter; +‘but we had no idea of losing thee so soon: we had almost hoped +that thou wouldst join us, become one of us. We are under infinite +obligations to thee.’ ‘You mean I am under infinite +obligations to you,’ said I. ‘Did you not save my +life?’ ‘Perhaps so, under God,’ said Peter; +‘and what hast thou not done for me? Art thou aware that, +under God, thou hast preserved my soul from despair? But, independent +of that, we like thy company, and feel a deep interest in thee, and +would fain teach thee the way that is right. Hearken, to-morrow +we go into Wales; go with us.’ ‘I have no wish to +go into Wales,’ said I. ‘Why not?’ said Peter, +with animation. ‘Wales is a goodly country; as the Scripture +says - a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths, that spring +out of valleys and hills, a land whose stones are iron, and out of whose +hills thou mayest dig lead.’<br> +<br> +‘I daresay it is a very fine country,’ said I, ‘but +I have no wish to go there just now; my destiny seems to point in another +direction, to say nothing of my trade.’ ‘Thou dost +right to say nothing of thy trade,’ said Peter, smiling, ‘for +thou seemest to care nothing about it; which has led Winifred and myself +to suspect that thou art not altogether what thou seemest; but, setting +that aside, we should be most happy if thou wouldst go with us into +Wales.’ ‘I cannot promise to go with you into Wales,’ +said I; ‘but, as you depart to-morrow, I will stay with you through +the day, and on the morrow accompany you part of the way.’ +‘Do,’ said Peter: ‘I have many people to see to-day, +and so has Winifred; but we will both endeavour to have some serious +discourse with thee, which, perhaps, will turn to thy profit in the +end.’<br> +<br> +In the course of the day the good Peter came to me, as I was seated +beneath the oak, and, placing himself by me, commenced addressing me +in the following manner:-<br> +<br> +‘I have no doubt, my young friend, that you are willing to admit +that the most important thing which a human being possesses is his soul; +it is of infinitely more importance than the body, which is a frail +substance, and cannot last for many years; but not so the soul, which, +by its nature, is imperishable. To one of two mansions the soul +is destined to depart, after its separation from the body, to heaven +or hell; to the halls of eternal bliss, where God and His holy angels +dwell, or to the place of endless misery, inhabited by Satan and his +grisly companions. My friend, if the joys of heaven are great, +unutterably great, so are the torments of hell unutterably so. +I wish not to speak of them, I wish not to terrify your imagination +with the torments of hell: indeed, I like not to think of them; but +it is necessary to speak of them sometimes, and to think of them sometimes, +lest you should sink into a state of carnal security. Authors, +friend, and learned men, are not altogether agreed as to the particulars +of hell. They all agree, however, in considering it a place of +exceeding horror. Master Ellis Wyn, who by the bye was a churchman, +calls it, amongst other things, a place of strong sighs, and of flaming +sparks. Master Rees Pritchard, who was not only a churchman, but +Vicar of Llandovery, and flourished about two hundred years ago - I +wish many like him flourished now - speaking of hell, in his collection +of sweet hymns called the “Welshman’s Candle,” observes,<br> +<br> +‘“The pool is continually blazing; it is very deep, without +any known bottom, and the walls are so high, that there is neither hope +nor possibility of escaping over them.”<br> +<br> +‘But, as I told you just now, I have no great pleasure in talking +of hell. No, friend, no; I would sooner talk of the other place, +and of the goodness and hospitality of God amongst His saints above.’<br> +<br> +And then the excellent man began to dilate upon the joys of heaven, +and the goodness and hospitality of God in the mansions above; explaining +to me, in the clearest way, how I might get there.<br> +<br> +And when he had finished what he had to say, he left me, whereupon Winifred +drew nigh, and sitting down by me began to address me. ‘I +do not think,’ said she, ‘from what I have observed of thee, +that thou wouldst wish to be ungrateful, and yet, is not thy whole life +a series of ingratitude, and to whom? - to thy Maker. Has He not +endowed thee with a goodly and healthy form; and senses which enable +thee to enjoy the delights of His beautiful universe - the work of His +hands? Canst thou not enjoy, even to rapture, the brightness of +the sun, the perfume of the meads, and the song of the dear birds which +inhabit among the trees? Yes, thou canst; for I have seen thee, +and observed thee doing so. Yet, during the whole time that I +have known thee, I have not heard proceed from thy lips one single word +of praise or thanksgiving to . . .’<br> +<br> +And in this manner the admirable woman proceeded for a considerable +time, and to all her discourse I listened with attention; and when she +had concluded, I took her hand and said, ‘I thank you,’ +and that was all.<br> +<br> +On the next day everything was ready for our departure. The good +family of the house came to bid us farewell. There were shaking +of hands, and kisses, as on the night of our arrival.<br> +<br> +And as I stood somewhat apart, the young girl of whom I have spoken +so often came up to me, and holding out her hand, said, ‘Farewell, +young man, wherever thou goest.’ Then, after looking around +her, she said, ‘It was all true you told me. Yesterday I +received a letter from him thou wottest of; he is coming soon. +God bless you, young man; who would have thought thou knewest so much!’<br> +<br> +So, after we had taken our farewell of the good family, we departed, +proceeding in the direction of Wales. Peter was very cheerful, +and enlivened the way with godly discourse and spiritual hymns, some +of which were in the Welsh language. At length I said, ‘It +is a pity that you did not continue in the Church; you have a turn for +Psalmody, and I have heard of a man becoming a bishop by means of a +less qualification.’<br> +<br> +‘Very probably,’ said Peter; ‘more the pity. +But I have told you the reason of my forsaking it. Frequently, +when I went to the church door, I found it barred, and the priest absent; +what was I to do? My heart was bursting for want of some religious +help and comfort; what could I do? as good Master Rees Pritchard observes +in his “Candle for Welshmen”:-<br> +<br> +‘“It is a doleful thing to see little children burning on +the hot coals for want of help; but yet more doleful to see a flock +of souls falling into the burning lake for want of a priest.”’<br> +<br> +‘The Church of England is a fine church,’ said I; ‘I +would not advise any one to speak ill of the Church of England before +me.’<br> +<br> +‘I have nothing to say against the church,’ said Peter; +‘all I wish is that it would fling itself a little more open, +and that its priests would a little more bestir themselves; in a word, +that it would shoulder the cross and become a missionary church.’<br> +<br> +‘It is too proud for that,’ said Winifred.<br> +<br> +‘You are much more of a Methodist,’ said I, ‘than +your husband. But tell me,’ said I, addressing myself to +Peter, ‘do you not differ from the church in some points of doctrine? +I, of course, as a true member of the church, am quite ignorant of the +peculiar opinions of wandering sectaries.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh the pride of that church!’ said Winifred, half to herself; +‘wandering sectaries!’<br> +<br> +‘We differ in no points of doctrine,’ said Peter; ‘we +believe all the church believes, though we are not so fond of vain and +superfluous ceremonies, snow-white neckcloths and surplices, as the +church is. We likewise think that there is no harm in a sermon +by the road-side, or in holding free discourse with a beggar beneath +a hedge, or a tinker,’ he added, smiling; ‘it was those +superfluous ceremonies, those surplices and white neckcloths, and, above +all, the necessity of strictly regulating his words and conversation, +which drove John Wesley out of the church, and sent him wandering up +and down as you see me, poor Welsh Peter, do.’<br> +<br> +Nothing farther passed for some time; we were now drawing near the hills: +at last I said, ‘You must have met with a great many strange adventures +since you took up this course of life?’<br> +<br> +‘Many,’ said Peter, ‘it has been my lot to meet with; +but none more strange than one which occurred to me only a few weeks +ago. You were asking me, not long since, whether I believed in +devils? Ay, truly, young man; and I believe that the abyss and +the yet deeper unknown do not contain them all; some walk about upon +the green earth. So it happened, some weeks ago, that I was exercising +my ministry about forty miles from here. I was alone, Winifred +being slightly indisposed, staying for a few days at the house of an +acquaintance; I had finished afternoon’s worship - the people +had dispersed, and I was sitting solitary by my cart under some green +trees in a quiet retired place; suddenly a voice said to me, “Good-evening, +Pastor”; I looked up, and before me stood a man, at least the +appearance of a man, dressed in a black suit of rather a singular fashion. +He was about my own age, or somewhat older. As I looked upon him, +it appeared to me that I had seen him twice before whilst preaching. +I replied to his salutation, and perceiving that he looked somewhat +fatigued, I took out a stool from the cart, and asked him to sit down. +We began to discourse; I at first supposed that he might be one of ourselves, +some wandering minister; but I was soon undeceived. Neither his +language nor his ideas were those of any one of our body. He spoke +on all kinds of matters with much fluency; till at last he mentioned +my preaching, complimenting me on my powers. I replied, as well +I might, that I could claim no merit of my own, and that if I spoke +with any effect, it was only by the grace of God. As I uttered +these last words, a horrible kind of sneer came over his countenance, +which made me shudder, for there was something diabolical in it. +I said little more, but listened attentively to his discourse. +At last he said that I was engaged in a paltry cause, quite unworthy +of one of my powers. “How can that be,” said I, “even +if I possessed all the powers in the world, seeing that I am engaged +in the cause of our Lord Jesus?”<br> +<br> +‘The same kind of sneer again came on his countenance, but he +almost instantly observed, that if I chose to forsake this same miserable +cause, from which nothing but contempt and privation was to be expected, +he would enlist me into another, from which I might expect both profit +and renown. An idea now came into my head, and I told him firmly +that if he wished me to forsake my present profession and become a member +of the Church of England, I must absolutely decline; that I had no ill-will +against that church, but I thought I could do most good in my present +position, which I would not forsake to be Archbishop of Canterbury. +Thereupon he burst into a strange laughter, and went away, repeating +to himself, “Church of England! Archbishop of Canterbury!” +A few days after, when I was once more in a solitary place, he again +appeared before me, and asked me whether I had thought over his words, +and whether I was willing to enlist under the banners of his master, +adding that he was eager to secure me, as he conceived that I might +be highly useful to the cause. I then asked him who his master +was; he hesitated for a moment, and then answered, “The Roman +Pontiff.” “If it be he,” said I, “I can +have nothing to do with him; I will serve no one who is an enemy of +Christ.” Thereupon he drew near to me, and told me not to +talk so much like a simpleton; that as for Christ, it was probable that +no such person ever existed, but that if He ever did, He was the greatest +impostor the world ever saw. How long he continued in this way +I know not, for I now considered that an evil spirit was before me, +and shrank within myself, shivering in every limb; when I recovered +myself and looked about me, he was gone. Two days after, he again +stood before me, in the same place, and about the same hour, renewing +his propositions, and speaking more horribly than before. I made +him no answer; whereupon he continued; but suddenly hearing a noise +behind him, he looked round and beheld Winifred, who had returned to +me on the morning of that day. “Who are you?” said +he, fiercely. “This man’s wife,” said she, calmly +fixing her eyes upon him. “Begone from him, unhappy one, +thou temptest him in vain.” He made no answer, but stood +as if transfixed: at length, recovering himself, he departed, muttering +“Wife! wife! If the fool has a wife, he will never do for +us.”’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The border - Thank you both - Pipe and fiddle - Taliesin.<br> +<br> +We were now drawing very near the hills, and Peter said, ‘If you +are to go into Wales, you must presently decide, for we are close upon +the border.’<br> +<br> +‘Which is the border?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Yon small brook,’ said Peter, ‘into which the man +on horseback who is coming towards us is now entering.’<br> +<br> +‘I see it,’ said I, ‘and the man; he stops in the +middle of it, as if to water his steed.’<br> +<br> +We proceeded till we had nearly reached the brook. ‘Well,’ +said Peter, ‘will you go into Wales?’<br> +<br> +‘What should I do in Wales?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘Do!’ said Peter, smiling, ‘learn Welsh.’<br> +<br> +I stopped my little pony. ‘Then I need not go into Wales; +I already know Welsh.’<br> +<br> +‘Know Welsh!’ said Peter, staring at me.<br> +<br> +‘Know Welsh!’ said Winifred, stopping her cart.<br> +<br> +‘How and when did you learn it?’ said Peter.<br> +<br> +‘From books, in my boyhood.’<br> +<br> +‘Read Welsh!’ said Peter; ‘is it possible?’<br> +<br> +‘Read Welsh!’ said Winifred; ‘is it possible?’<br> +<br> +‘Well, I hope you will come with us,’ said Peter.<br> +<br> +‘Come with us, young man,’ said Winifred; ‘let me, +on the other side of the brook, welcome you into Wales.’<br> +<br> +‘Thank you both,’ said I, ‘but I will not come.’<br> +<br> +‘Wherefore?’ exclaimed both, simultaneously.<br> +<br> +‘Because it is neither fit nor proper that I cross into Wales +at this time, and in this manner. When I go into Wales, I should +wish to go in a new suit of superfine black, with hat and beaver, mounted +on a powerful steed, black and glossy, like that which bore Greduv to +the fight of Catraeth. I should wish, moreover, to see the Welshmen +assembled on the border ready to welcome me with pipe and fiddle, and +much whooping and shouting, and to attend me to Wrexham, or even as +far as Machynllaith, where I should wish to be invited to a dinner at +which all the bards should be present, and to be seated at the right +hand of the president, who, when the cloth was removed, should arise, +and, amidst cries of silence, exclaim - “Brethren and Welshmen, +allow me to propose the health of my most respectable friend the translator +of the odes of the great Ab Gwilym, the pride and glory of Wales.”’<br> +<br> +‘How!’ said Peter, ‘hast thou translated the works +of the mighty Dafydd?’<br> +<br> +‘With notes critical, historical, and explanatory.’<br> +<br> +‘Come with us, friend,’ said Peter. ‘I cannot +promise such a dinner as thou wishest, but neither pipe nor fiddle shall +be wanting.’<br> +<br> +‘Come with us, young man,’ said Winifred, ‘even as +thou art, and the daughters of Wales shall bid thee welcome.’<br> +<br> +‘I will not go with you,’ said I. ‘Dost thou +see that man in the ford?’<br> +<br> +‘Who is staring at us so, and whose horse has not yet done drinking? +Of course I see him.’<br> +<br> +‘I shall turn back with him. God bless you.’<br> +<br> +‘Go back with him not,’ said Peter; ‘he is one of +those whom I like not, one of the clibberty-clabber, as Master Ellis +Wyn observes - turn not with that man.’<br> +<br> +‘Go not back with him,’ said Winifred. ‘If thou +goest with that man, thou wilt soon forget all our profitable counsels; +come with us.’<br> +<br> +‘I cannot; I have much to say to him. Kosko Divvus, Mr. +Petulengro.’<br> +<br> +‘Kosko Divvus, Pal,’ said Mr. Petulengro, riding through +the water; ‘are you turning back?’<br> +<br> +I turned back with Mr. Petulengro.<br> +<br> +Peter came running after me: ‘One moment, young man, - who and +what are you?’<br> +<br> +‘I must answer in the words of Taliesin,’ said I: ‘none +can say with positiveness whether I be fish or flesh, least of all myself. +God bless you both!’<br> +<br> +‘Take this,’ said Peter, and he thrust his Welsh Bible into +my hand.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXXI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +At a funeral - Two days ago - Very coolly - Roman woman - Well and hearty +- Somewhat dreary - Plum pudding - Roman fashion - Quite different - +The dark lane - Beyond the time - Fine fellow - Such a struggle - Like +a wild cat - Fair Play - Pleasant enough spot - No gloves.<br> +<br> +So I turned back with Mr. Petulengro. We travelled for some time +in silence; at last we fell into discourse. ‘You have been +in Wales, Mr. Petulengro?’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, truly, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘What have you been doing there?’<br> +<br> +‘Assisting at a funeral.’<br> +<br> +‘At whose funeral?’<br> +<br> +‘Mrs. Herne’s, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘Is she dead, then?’<br> +<br> +‘As a nail, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘How did she die?’<br> +<br> +‘By hanging, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘I am lost in astonishment,’ said I; whereupon Mr. Petulengro, +lifting his sinister leg over the neck of his steed, and adjusting himself +sideways in the saddle, replied, with great deliberation, ‘Two +days ago I happened to be at a fair not very far from here; I was all +alone by myself, for our party were upwards of forty miles off, when +who should come up but a chap that I knew, a relation, or rather a connection, +of mine - one of those Hernes. “Aren’t you going to +the funeral?” said he; and then, brother, there passed between +him and me, in the way of questioning and answering, much the same as +has just now passed between me and you; but when he mentioned hanging, +I thought I could do no less than ask who hanged her, which you forgot +to do. “Who hanged her?” said I; and then the man +told me that she had done it herself; been her own hinjiri; and then +I thought to myself what a sin and shame it would be if I did not go +to the funeral, seeing that she was my own mother-in-law. I would +have brought my wife, and, indeed, the whole of our party, but there +was no time for that; they were too far off, and the dead was to be +buried early the next morning; so I went with the man, and he led me +into Wales, where his party had lately retired, and when there, through +many wild and desolate places to their encampment, and there I found +the Hernes, and the dead body - the last laid out on a mattress, in +a tent, dressed Romaneskoenaes in a red cloak, and big bonnet of black +beaver. I must say for the Hernes that they took the matter very +coolly; some were eating, others drinking, and some were talking about +their small affairs; there was one, however, who did not take the matter +so coolly, but took on enough for the whole family, sitting beside the +dead woman, tearing her hair, and refusing to take either meat or drink; +it was the child Leonora. I arrived at night-fall, and the burying +was not to take place till the morning, which I was rather sorry for, +as I am not very fond of them Hernes, who are not very fond of anybody. +They never asked me to eat or drink, notwithstanding I had married into +the family; one of them, however, came up and offered to fight me for +five shillings; had it not been for them I should have come back as +empty as I went - he didn’t stand up five minutes. Brother, +I passed the night as well as I could, beneath a tree, for the tents +were full, and not over clean; I slept little, and had my eyes about +me, for I knew the kind of people I was among.<br> +<br> +‘Early in the morning the funeral took place. The body was +placed not in a coffin but on a bier, and carried not to a churchyard +but to a deep dell close by; and there it was buried beneath a rock, +dressed just as I have told you; and this was done by the bidding of +Leonora, who had heard her bebee say that she wished to be buried, not +in gorgious fashion, but like a Roman woman of the old blood, the kosko +puro rati, brother. When it was over, and we had got back to the +encampment, I prepared to be going. Before mounting my gry, however, +I bethought me to ask what could have induced the dead woman to make +away with herself - a thing so uncommon amongst Romanies; whereupon +one squinted with his eyes, a second spirted saliver into the air, and +a third said that he neither knew nor cared; she was a good riddance, +having more than once been nearly the ruin of them all, from the quantity +of brimstone she carried about her. One, however, I suppose rather +ashamed of the way in which they had treated me, said at last that if +I wanted to know all about the matter none could tell me better than +the child, who was in all her secrets, and was not a little like her; +so I looked about for the child, but could find her nowhere. At +last the same man told me that he shouldn’t wonder if I found +her at the grave; so I went back to the grave, and sure enough there +I found the child Leonora, seated on the ground above the body, crying +and taking on; so I spoke kindly to her, and said, “How came all +this, Leonora? tell me all about it.” It was a long time +before I could get any answer; at last she opened her mouth and spoke, +and these were the words she said, “It was all along of your Pal”; +and then she told me all about the matter - how Mrs. Herne could not +abide you, which I knew before; and that she had sworn your destruction, +which I did not know before. And then she told me how she found +you living in the wood by yourself, and how you were enticed to eat +a poisoned cake; and she told me many other things that you wot of, +and she told me what perhaps you don’t wot, namely, that finding +you had been removed, she, the child, had tracked you a long way, and +found you at last well and hearty, and no ways affected by the poison, +and heard you, as she stood concealed, disputing about religion with +a Welsh Methody. Well, brother, she told me all this; and, moreover, +that when Mrs. Herne heard of it, she said that a dream of hers had +come to pass. I don’t know what it was, but something about +herself, a tinker, and a dean; and then she added that it was all up +with her, and that she must take a long journey. Well, brother, +that same night Leonora, waking from her sleep in the tent where Mrs. +Herne and she were wont to sleep, missed her bebee, and, becoming alarmed, +went in search of her, and at last found her hanging from a branch; +and when the child had got so far, she took on violently, and I could +not get another word from her; so I left her, and here I am.’<br> +<br> +‘And I am glad to see you, Mr. Petulengro; but this is sad news +which you tell me about Mrs. Herne.’<br> +<br> +‘Somewhat dreary, brother; yet, perhaps, after all, it is a good +thing that she is removed; she carried so much Devil’s tinder +about with her, as the man said.’<br> +<br> +‘I am sorry for her,’ said I; ‘more especially as +I am the cause of her death - though the innocent one.’<br> +<br> +‘She could not bide you, brother, that’s certain; but that +is no reason’ - said Mr. Petulengro, balancing himself upon the +saddle - ‘that is no reason why she should prepare drow to take +away your essence of life; and, when disappointed, to hang herself upon +a tree: if she was dissatisfied with you, she might have flown at you, +and scratched your face; or, if she did not judge herself your match, +she might have put down five shillings for a turn-up between you and +some one she thought could beat you - myself, for example - and so the +matter might have ended comfortably; but she was always too fond of +covert ways, drows, and brimstones. This is not the first poisoning +affair she has been engaged in.’<br> +<br> +‘You allude to drabbing bawlor.’<br> +<br> +‘Bah!’ said Mr. Petulengro; ‘there’s no harm +in that. No, no! she has cast drows in her time for other guess +things than bawlor; both Gorgios and Romans have tasted of them, and +died. Did you never hear of the poisoned plum pudding?’<br> +<br> +‘Never.’<br> +<br> +‘Then I will tell you about it. It happened about six years +ago, a few months after she had quitted us - she had gone first amongst +her own people, as she called them; but there was another small party +of Romans, with whom she soon became very intimate. It so happened +that this small party got into trouble; whether it was about a horse +or an ass, or passing bad money, no matter to you and me, who had no +hand in the business; three or four of them were taken and lodged in +- Castle, and amongst them was a woman; but the sherengro, or principal +man of the party, and who it seems had most hand in the affair, was +still at large. All of a sudden a rumour was spread abroad that +the woman was about to play false, and to ’peach the rest. +Said the principal man, when he heard it, “If she does, I am nashkado.” +Mrs. Herne was then on a visit to the party, and when she heard the +principal man take on so, she said, “But I suppose you know what +to do?” “I do not,” said he. “Then +hir mi devlis,” said she, “you are a fool. But leave +the matter to me, I know how to dispose of her in Roman fashion.” +Why she wanted to interfere in the matter, brother, I don’t know, +unless it was from pure brimstoneness of disposition - she had no hand +in the matter which had brought the party into trouble - she was only +on a visit, and it had happened before she came; but she was always +ready to give dangerous advice. Well, brother, the principal man +listened to what she had to say, and let her do what she would; and +she made a pudding, a very nice one, no doubt - for, besides plums, +she put in drows and all the Roman condiments that she knew of; and +she gave it to the principal man, and the principal put it into a basket +and directed it to the woman in - Castle, and the woman in the castle +took it and - ’<br> +<br> +‘Ate of it,’ said I; ‘just like my case!’<br> +<br> +‘Quite different, brother; she took it, it is true, but instead +of giving way to her appetite, as you might have done, she put it before +the rest whom she was going to impeach; perhaps she wished to see how +they liked it before she tasted it herself; and all the rest were poisoned, +and one died, and there was a precious outcry, and the woman cried loudest +of all; and she said, “It was my death was sought for; I know +the man, and I’ll be revenged.” And then the Poknees +spoke to her and said, “Where can we find him?” and she +said, “I am awake to his motions; three weeks from hence, the +night before the full moon, at such and such an hour, he will pass down +such a lane with such a man.”’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘and what did the Poknees do?’<br> +<br> +‘Do, brother! sent for a plastramengro from Bow Street, quite +secretly, and told him what the woman had said; and the night before +the full moon, the plastramengro went to the place which the juwa had +pointed out, all alone, brother; and in order that he might not be too +late, he went two hours before his time. I know the place well, +brother, where the plastramengro placed himself behind a thick holly +tree, at the end of a lane, where a gate leads into various fields, +through which there is a path for carts and horses. The lane is +called the dark lane by the Gorgios, being much shaded by trees. +So the plastramengro placed himself in the dark lane behind the holly +tree; it was a cold February night, dreary though; the wind blew in +gusts, and the moon had not yet risen, and the plastramengro waited +behind the tree till he was tired, and thought he might as well sit +down; so he sat down, and was not long in falling to sleep, and there +he slept for some hours; and when he awoke the moon had risen, and was +shining bright, so that there was a kind of moonlight even in the dark +lane; and the plastramengro pulled out his watch, and contrived to make +out that it was just two hours beyond the time when the men should have +passed by. Brother, I do not know what the plastramengro thought +of himself, but I know, brother, what I should have thought of myself +in his situation. I should have thought, brother, that I was a +drowsy scoppelo, and that I had let the fellow pass by whilst I was +sleeping behind a bush. As it turned out, however, his going to +sleep did no harm, but quite the contrary: just as he was going away, +he heard a gate slam in the direction of the fields, and then he heard +the low stumping of horses, as if on soft ground, for the path in those +fields is generally soft, and at that time it had been lately ploughed +up. Well, brother, presently he saw two men on horseback coming +towards the lane through the field behind the gate; the man who rode +foremost was a tall big fellow, the very man he was in quest of; the +other was a smaller chap, not so small either, but a light, wiry fellow, +and a proper master of his hands when he sees occasion for using them. +Well, brother, the foremost man came to the gate, reached at the hank, +undid it, and rode through, holding it open for the other. Before, +however, the other could follow into the lane, out bolted the plastramengro +from behind the tree, kicked the gate to with his foot, and, seizing +the big man on horse-back, “You are my prisoner,” said he. +I am of opinion, brother, that the plastramengro, notwithstanding he +went to sleep, must have been a regular fine fellow.’<br> +<br> +‘I am entirely of your opinion,’ said I; ‘but what +happened then?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, brother, the Rommany chal, after he had somewhat recovered +from his surprise, for it is rather uncomfortable to be laid hold of +at night-time, and told you are a prisoner; more especially when you +happen to have two or three things on your mind which, if proved against +you, would carry you to the nashky, - the Rommany chal, I say, clubbed +his whip, and aimed a blow at the plastramengro, which, if it had hit +him on the skull, as was intended, would very likely have cracked it. +The plastramengro, however, received it partly on his staff, so that +it did him no particular damage. Whereupon, seeing what kind of +customer he had to deal with, he dropped his staff and seized the chal +with both his hands, who forthwith spurred his horse, hoping, by doing +so, either to break away from him or fling him down; but it would not +do - the plastramengro held on like a bull-dog, so that the Rommany +chal, to escape being hauled to the ground, suddenly flung himself off +the saddle, and then happened in that lane, close by the gate, such +a struggle between those two - the chal and the runner - as I suppose +will never happen again. But you must have heard of it; every +one has heard of it; every one has heard of the fight between the Bow +Street engro and the Rommany chal.’<br> +<br> +‘I never heard of it till now.’<br> +<br> +‘All England rung of it, brother. There never was a better +match than between those two. The runner was somewhat the stronger +of the two - all those engroes are strong fellows - and a great deal +cooler, for all of that sort are wondrous cool people - he had, however, +to do with one who knew full well how to take his own part. The +chal fought the engro, brother, in the old Roman fashion. He bit, +he kicked, and screamed like a wild cat of Benygant; casting foam from +his mouth and fire from his eyes. Sometimes he was beneath the +engro’s legs, and sometimes he was upon his shoulders. What +the engro found the most difficult was to get a firm hold of the chal, +for no sooner did he seize the chal by any part of his wearing apparel, +than the chal either tore himself away, or contrived to slip out of +it; so that in a little time the chal was three parts naked; and as +for holding him by the body, it was out of the question, for he was +as slippery as an eel. At last the engro seized the chal by the +Belcher’s handkerchief, which he wore in a knot round his neck, +and do whatever the chal could, he could not free himself; and when +the engro saw that, it gave him fresh heart, no doubt: “It’s +of no use,” said he; “you had better give in; hold out your +hands for the darbies, or I will throttle you.”<br> +<br> +‘And what did the other fellow do, who came with the chal?’ +said I.<br> +<br> +‘I sat still on my horse, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘You!’ said I. ‘Were you the man?’<br> +<br> +‘I was he, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘And why did you not help your comrade?’<br> +<br> +‘I have fought in the ring, brother.’<br> +<br> +‘And what had fighting in the ring to do with fighting in the +lane?’<br> +<br> +‘You mean not fighting. A great deal, brother; it taught +me to prize fair play. When I fought Staffordshire Dick, t’other +side of London, I was alone, brother. Not a Rommany chal to back +me, and he had all his brother pals about him; but they gave me fair +play, brother; and I beat Staffordshire Dick, which I couldn’t +have done had they put one finger on his side the scale; for he was +as good a man as myself, or nearly so. Now, brother, had I but +bent a finger in favour of the Rommany chal, the plastramengro would +never have come alive out of the lane; but I did not, for I thought +to myself fair play is a precious stone; so you see, brother - ’<br> +<br> +‘That you are quite right, Mr. Petulengro, I see that clearly; +and now, pray proceed with your narration; it is both moral and entertaining.’<br> +<br> +But Mr. Petulengro did not proceed with his narration, neither did he +proceed upon his way; he had stopped his horse, and his eyes were intently +fixed on a broad strip of grass beneath some lofty trees, on the left +side of the road. It was a pleasant enough spot, and seemed to +invite wayfaring people, such as we were, to rest from the fatigues +of the road, and the heat and vehemence of the sun. After examining +it for a considerable time, Mr. Petulengro said, ‘I say, brother, +that would be a nice place for a tussle!’<br> +<br> +‘I daresay it would,’ said I, ‘if two people were +inclined to fight.’<br> +<br> +‘The ground is smooth,’ said Mr. Petulengro; ‘without +holes or ruts, and the trees cast much shade. I don’t think, +brother, that we could find a better place,’ said Mr. Petulengro, +springing from his horse.<br> +<br> +‘But you and I don’t want to fight!’<br> +<br> +‘Speak for yourself, brother,’ said Mr. Petulengro. +‘However, I will tell you how the matter stands. There is +a point at present between us. There can be no doubt that you +are the cause of Mrs. Herne’s death, innocently, you will say, +but still the cause. Now, I shouldn’t like it to be known +that I went up and down the country with a pal who was the cause of +my mother-in-law’s death, that’s to say, unless he gave +me satisfaction. Now, if I and my pal have a tussle, he gives +me satisfaction; and, if he knocks my eyes out, which I know you can’t +do, it makes no difference at all, he gives me satisfaction; and he +who says to the contrary knows nothing of gypsy law, and is a dinelo +into the bargain.’<br> +<br> +‘But we have no gloves!’<br> +<br> +‘Gloves!’ said Mr. Petulengro, contemptuously, ‘gloves! +I tell you what, brother, I always thought you were a better hand at +the gloves than the naked fist; and, to tell you the truth, besides +taking satisfaction for Mrs. Herne’s death, I wish to see what +you can do with your mawleys; so now is your time, brother, and this +is your place, grass and shade, no ruts or holes; come on, brother, +or I shall think you what I should not like to call you.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXXII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Offence and defence - I’m satisfied - Fond of solitude - Possession +of property - Chal Devlehi - Winding path.<br> +<br> +And when I heard Mr. Petulengro talk in this manner, which I had never +heard him do before, and which I can only account for by his being fasting +and ill-tempered, I had of course no other alternative than to accept +his challenge; so I put myself into a posture which I deemed the best +both for offence and defence, and the tussle commenced; and when it +had endured for about half an hour, Mr. Petulengro said, ‘Brother, +there is much blood on your face; you had better wipe it off’; +and when I had wiped it off, and again resumed my former attitude, Mr. +Petulengro said, ‘I think enough has been done, brother, in the +affair of the old woman; I have, moreover, tried what you are able to +do, and find you, as I thought, less apt with the naked mawleys than +the stuffed gloves; nay, brother, put your hands down, I’m satisfied; +blood has been shed, which is all that can be reasonably expected for +an old woman who carried so much brimstone about her as Mrs. Herne.’<br> +<br> +So the struggle ended, and we resumed our route, Mr. Petulengro sitting +sideways upon his horse as before, and I driving my little pony-cart; +and when we had proceeded about three miles, we came to a small public-house, +which bore the sign of the Silent Woman, where we stopped to refresh +our cattle and ourselves; and as we sat over our bread and ale, it came +to pass that Mr. Petulengro asked me various questions, and amongst +others, how I intended to dispose of myself; I told him that I did not +know; whereupon, with considerable frankness, he invited me to his camp, +and told me that if I chose to settle down amongst them, and become +a Rommany chal, I should have his wife’s sister Ursula, who was +still unmarried, and occasionally talked of me.<br> +<br> +I declined his offer, assigning as a reason the recent death of Mrs. +Herne, of which I was the cause, although innocent. ‘A pretty +life I should lead with those two,’ said I, ‘when they came +to know it.’ ‘Pooh,’ said Mr. Petulengro, ‘they +will never know it. I shan’t blab, and as for Leonora, that +girl has a head on her shoulders.’ ‘Unlike the woman +in the sign,’ said I, ‘whose head is cut off. You +speak nonsense, Mr. Petulengro; as long as a woman has a head on her +shoulders she’ll talk, - but, leaving women out of the case, it +is impossible to keep anything a secret; an old master of mine told +me so long ago. I have moreover another reason for declining your +offer. I am at present not disposed for society. I am become +fond of solitude. I wish I could find some quiet place to which +I could retire to hold communion with my own thoughts, and practise, +if I thought fit, either of my trades.’ ‘What trades?’ +said Mr. Petulengro. ‘Why, the one which I have lately been +engaged in, or my original one, which I confess I should like better, +that of a kaulo-mescro.’ ‘Ah, I have frequently heard +you talk of making horse-shoes,’ said Mr. Petulengro; ‘I, +however, never saw you make one, and no one else that I am aware; I +don’t believe - come, brother, don’t be angry, it’s +quite possible that you may have done things which neither I nor any +one else has seen you do, and that such things may some day or other +come to light, as you say nothing can be kept secret. Be that, +however, as it may, pay the reckoning and let us be going; I think I +can advise you to just such a kind of place as you seem to want.’<br> +<br> +‘And how do you know that I have got wherewithal to pay the reckoning?’ +I demanded. ‘Brother,’ said Mr. Petulengro, ‘I +was just now looking in your face, which exhibited the very look of +a person conscious of the possession of property; there was nothing +hungry or sneaking in it. Pay the reckoning, brother.’<br> +<br> +And when we were once more upon the road, Mr. Petulengro began to talk +of the place which he conceived would serve me as a retreat under present +circumstances. ‘I tell you frankly, brother, that it is +a queer kind of place, and I am not very fond of pitching my tent in +it, it is so surprisingly dreary. It is a deep dingle in the midst +of a large field, on an estate about which there has been a lawsuit +for some years past. I daresay you will be quiet enough, for the +nearest town is five miles distant, and there are only a few huts and +hedge public-houses in the neighbourhood. Brother, I am fond of +solitude myself, but not that kind of solitude; I like a quiet heath, +where I can pitch my house, but I always like to have a gay stirring +place not far off, where the women can pen dukkerin, and I myself can +sell or buy a horse, if needful - such a place as the Chong Gav. +I never feel so merry as when there, brother, or on the heath above +it, where I taught you Rommany.’<br> +<br> +Shortly after this discourse we reached a milestone, and a few yards +from the milestone, on the left hand, was a crossroad. Thereupon +Mr. Petulengro said, ‘Brother, my path lies to the left if you +choose to go with me to my camp, good; if not, Chal Devlehi.’ +But I again refused Mr. Petulengro’s invitation, and, shaking +him by the hand, proceeded forward alone; and about ten miles farther +on I reached the town of which he had spoken, and, following certain +directions which he had given, discovered, though not without some difficulty, +the dingle which he had mentioned. It was a deep hollow in the +midst of a wide field; the shelving sides were overgrown with trees +and bushes, a belt of sallows surrounded it on the top, a steep winding +path led down into the depths, practicable, however, for a light cart, +like mine; at the bottom was an open space, and there I pitched my tent, +and there I contrived to put up my forge. ‘I will here ply +the trade of kaulomescro,’ said I.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXXIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Highly poetical - Volundr - Grecian mythology - Making a petul - Tongues +of flame - Hammering - Spite of dukkerin - Heaviness.<br> +<br> +It has always struck me that there is something highly poetical about +a forge. I am not singular in this opinion: various individuals +have assured me that they can never pass by one, even in the midst of +a crowded town, without experiencing sensations which they can scarcely +define, but which are highly pleasurable. I have a decided penchant +for forges, especially rural ones, placed in some quaint quiet spot +- a dingle, for example, which is a poetical place, or at a meeting +of four roads, which is still more so; for how many a superstition - +and superstition is the soul of poetry - is connected with these cross +roads! I love to light upon such a one, especially after nightfall, +as everything about a forge tells to most advantage at night; the hammer +sounds more solemnly in the stillness; the glowing particles scattered +by the strokes sparkle with more effect in the darkness, whilst the +sooty visage of the sastramescro, half in shadow and half illumed by +the red and partial blaze of the forge, looks more mysterious and strange. +On such occasions I draw in my horse’s rein, and, seated in the +saddle, endeavour to associate with the picture before me - in itself +a picture of romance - whatever of the wild and wonderful I have read +of in books, or have seen with my own eyes in connection with forges.<br> +<br> +I believe the life of any blacksmith, especially a rural one, would +afford materials for a highly poetical history. I do not speak +unadvisedly, having the honour to be free of the forge, and therefore +fully competent to give an opinion as to what might be made out of the +forge by some dexterous hand. Certainly, the strangest and most +entertaining life ever written is that of a blacksmith of the olden +north, a certain Volundr, or Velint, who lived in woods and thickets, +made keen swords - so keen, indeed, that if placed in a running stream +they would fairly divide an object, however slight, which was borne +against them by the water, and who eventually married a king’s +daughter, by whom he had a son, who was as bold a knight as his father +was a cunning blacksmith. I never see a forge at night, when seated +on the back of my horse, at the bottom of a dark lane, but I somehow +or other associate it with the exploits of this extraordinary fellow, +with many other extraordinary things, amongst which, as I have hinted +before, are particular passages of my own life, one or two of which +I shall perhaps relate to the reader.<br> +<br> +I never associate Vulcan and his Cyclops with the idea of a forge. +These gentry would be the very last people in the world to flit across +my mind whilst gazing at the forge from the bottom of the dark lane. +The truth is, they are highly unpoetical fellows, as well they may be, +connected as they are with the Grecian mythology. At the very +mention of their names the forge burns dull and dim, as if snowballs +had been suddenly flung into it; the only remedy is to ply the bellows, +an operation which I now hasten to perform.<br> +<br> +I am in the dingle making a horse-shoe. Having no other horses +on whose hoofs I could exercise my art, I made my first essay on those +of my own horse, if that could be called horse which horse was none, +being only a pony. Perhaps, if I had sought all England, I should +scarcely have found an animal more in need of the kind offices of the +smith. On three of his feet there were no shoes at all, and on +the fourth only a remnant of one, on which account his hoofs were sadly +broken and lacerated by his late journeys over the hard and flinty roads. +‘You belonged to a tinker before,’ said I, addressing the +animal, ‘but now you belong to a smith. It is said that +the household of the shoemaker invariably go worse shod than that of +any other craft. That may be the case of those who make shoes +of leather, but it shan’t be said of the household of him who +makes shoes of iron; at any rate it shan’t be said of mine. +I tell you what, my gry, whilst you continue with me, you shall both +be better shod and better fed than you were with your last master.’<br> +<br> +I am in the dingle making a petul; and I must here observe that whilst +I am making a horse-shoe the reader need not be surprised if I speak +occasionally in the language of the lord of the horse-shoe - Mr. Petulengro. +I have for some time past been plying the peshota, or bellows, endeavouring +to raise up the yag, or fire, in my primitive forge. The angar, +or coals, are now burning fiercely, casting forth sparks and long vagescoe +chipes, or tongues of flame; a small bar of sastra, or iron, is lying +in the fire, to the length of ten or twelve inches, and so far it is +hot, very hot, exceeding hot, brother. And now you see me prala, +snatch the bar of iron, and place the heated end of it upon the covantza, +or anvil, and forthwith I commence cooring the sastra as hard as if +I had been just engaged by a master at the rate of dui caulor, or two +shillings, a day, brother; and when I have beaten the iron till it is +nearly cool, and my arm tired, I place it again in the angar, and begin +again to rouse the fire with the pudamengro, which signifies the blowing +thing, and is another and more common word for bellows; and whilst thus +employed I sing a gypsy song, the sound of which is wonderfully in unison +with the hoarse moaning of the pudamengro, and ere the song is finished, +the iron is again hot and malleable. Behold, I place it once more +on the covantza, and recommence hammering; and now I am somewhat at +fault; I am in want of assistance; I want you, brother, or some one +else, to take the bar out of my hand and support it upon the covantza, +whilst I, applying a chinomescro, or kind of chisel, to the heated iron, +cut off with a lusty stroke or two of the shukaro baro, or big hammer, +as much as is required for the petul. But having no one to help +me, I go on hammering till I have fairly knocked off as much as I want, +and then I place the piece in the fire, and again apply the bellows, +and take up the song where I left it off; and when I have finished the +song, I take out the iron, but this time with my plaistra, or pincers, +and then I recommence hammering, turning the iron round and round with +my pincers: and now I bend the iron and, lo and behold! it has assumed +something of the outline of a petul.<br> +<br> +I am not going to enter into farther details with respect to the process +- it was rather a wearisome one. I had to contend with various +disadvantages; my forge was a rude one, my tools might have been better; +I was in want of one or two highly necessary implements, but, above +all, manual dexterity. Though free of the forge, I had not practised +the albeytarian art for very many years, never since - but stay, it +is not my intention to tell the reader, at least in this place, how +and when I became a blacksmith. There was one thing, however, +which stood me in good stead in my labour, the same thing which through +life has ever been of incalculable utility to me, and has not unfrequently +supplied the place of friends, money, and many other things of almost +equal importance - iron perseverance, without which all the advantages +of time and circumstance are of very little avail in any undertaking. +I was determined to make a horse-shoe, and a good one, in spite of every +obstacle - ay, in spite of dukkerin. At the end of four days, +during which I had fashioned and refashioned the thing at least fifty +times, I had made a petul such as no master of the craft need have been +ashamed of; with the second shoe I had less difficulty, and, by the +time I had made the fourth, I would have scorned to take off my hat +to the best smith in Cheshire.<br> +<br> +But I had not yet shod my little gry: this I proceeded now to do. +After having first well pared the hoofs with my churi, I applied each +petul hot, glowing hot, to the pindro. Oh, how the hoofs hissed! +and, oh, the pleasant pungent odour which diffused itself through the +dingle! - an odour good for an ailing spirit.<br> +<br> +I shod the little horse bravely - merely pricked him once, slightly, +with a cafi, for doing which, I remember, he kicked me down; I was not +disconcerted, however, but, getting up, promised to be more cautious +in future; and having finished the operation, I filed the hoof well +with the rin baro, then dismissed him to graze amongst the trees, and, +putting my smaller tools into the muchtar, I sat down on my stone, and, +supporting my arm upon my knee, leaned my head upon my hand. Heaviness +had come over me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXXIV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Several causes - Frogs and eftes - Gloom and twilight - What should +I do? - ‘Our Father’ - Fellow-men - What a mercy! - Almost +calm - Fresh store - History of Saul - Pitch dark.<br> +<br> +Heaviness had suddenly come over me, heaviness of heart, and of body +also. I had accomplished the task which I had imposed upon myself, +and now that nothing more remained to do, my energies suddenly deserted +me, and I felt without strength, and without hope. Several causes, +perhaps, co-operated to bring about the state in which I then felt myself. +It is not improbable that my energies had been overstrained during the +work the progress of which I have attempted to describe; and every one +is aware that the results of overstrained energies are feebleness and +lassitude - want of nourishment might likewise have something to do +with it. During my sojourn in the dingle, my food had been of +the simplest and most unsatisfying description, by no means calculated +to support the exertion which the labour I had been engaged upon required; +it had consisted of coarse oaten cakes and hard cheese, and for beverage +I had been indebted to a neighbouring pit, in which, in the heat of +the day, I frequently saw, not golden or silver fish, but frogs and +eftes swimming about. I am, however, inclined to believe that +Mrs. Herne’s cake had quite as much to do with the matter as insufficient +nourishment. I had never entirely recovered from the effects of +its poison, but had occasionally, especially at night, been visited +by a grinding pain in the stomach, and my whole body had been suffused +with cold sweat; and indeed these memorials of the drow have never entirely +disappeared - even at the present time they display themselves in my +system, especially after much fatigue of body and excitement of mind. +So there I sat in the dingle upon my stone, nerveless and hopeless, +by whatever cause or causes that state had been produced - there I sat +with my head leaning upon my hand, and so I continued a long, long time. +At last I lifted my head from my hand, and began to cast anxious, unquiet +looks about the dingle - the entire hollow was now enveloped in deep +shade - I cast my eyes up; there was a golden gleam on the tops of the +trees which grew towards the upper parts of the dingle; but lower down +all was gloom and twilight - yet, when I first sat down on my stone, +the sun was right above the dingle, illuminating all its depths by the +rays which it cast perpendicularly down - so I must have sat a long, +long time upon my stone. And now, once more, I rested my head +upon my hand, but almost instantly lifted it again in a kind of fear, +and began looking at the objects before me - the forge, the tools, the +branches of the trees, endeavouring to follow their rows, till they +were lost in the darkness of the dingle; and now I found my right hand +grasping convulsively the three fore-fingers of the left, first collectively, +and then successively, wringing them till the joints cracked; then I +became quiet, but not for long.<br> +<br> +Suddenly I started up, and could scarcely repress the shriek which was +rising to my lips. Was it possible? Yes, all too certain; +the evil one was upon me; the inscrutable horror which I had felt in +my boyhood had once more taken possession of me. I had thought +that it had forsaken me - that it would never visit me again; that I +had outgrown it; that I might almost bid defiance to it; and I had even +begun to think of it without horror, as we are in the habit of doing +of horrors of which we conceive we run no danger; and lo! when least +thought of, it had seized me again. Every moment I felt it gathering +force, and making me more wholly its own. What should I do? - +resist, of course; and I did resist. I grasped, I tore, and strove +to fling it from me; but of what avail were my efforts? I could +only have got rid of it by getting rid of myself: it was a part of myself, +or rather it was all myself. I rushed amongst the trees, and struck +at them with my bare fists, and dashed my head against them, but I felt +no pain. How could I feel pain with that horror upon me? +And then I flung myself on the ground, gnawed the earth, and swallowed +it; and then I looked round; it was almost total darkness in the dingle, +and the darkness added to my horror. I could no longer stay there; +up I rose from the ground, and attempted to escape. At the bottom +of the winding path which led up the acclivity I fell over something +which was lying on the ground; the something moved, and gave a kind +of whine. It was my little horse, which had made that place its +lair; my little horse; my only companion and friend in that now awful +solitude. I reached the mouth of the dingle; the sun was just +sinking in the far west behind me, the fields were flooded with his +last gleams. How beautiful everything looked in the last gleams +of the sun! I felt relieved for a moment; I was no longer in the +horrid dingle. In another minute the sun was gone, and a big cloud +occupied the place where he had been: in a little time it was almost +as dark as it had previously been in the open part of the dingle. +My horror increased; what was I to do? - it was of no use fighting against +the horror - that I saw; the more I fought against it, the stronger +it became. What should I do: say my prayers? Ah! why not? +So I knelt down under the hedge, and said, ‘Our Father’; +but that was of no use; and now I could no longer repress cries - the +horror was too great to be borne. What should I do? run to the +nearest town or village, and request the assistance of my fellow-men? +No! that I was ashamed to do; notwithstanding the horror was upon me, +I was ashamed to do that. I knew they would consider me a maniac, +if I went screaming amongst them; and I did not wish to be considered +a maniac. Moreover, I knew that I was not a maniac, for I possessed +all my reasoning powers, only the horror was upon me - the screaming +horror! But how were indifferent people to distinguish between +madness and the screaming horror? So I thought and reasoned; and +at last I determined not to go amongst my fellow-men, whatever the result +might be. I went to the mouth of the dingle, and there, placing +myself on my knees, I again said the Lord’s Prayer; but it was +of no use - praying seemed to have no effect over the horror; the unutterable +fear appeared rather to increase than diminish, and I again uttered +wild cries, so loud that I was apprehensive they would be heard by some +chance passenger on the neighbouring road; I therefore went deeper into +the dingle. I sat down with my back against a thorn bush; the +thorns entered my flesh, and when I felt them, I pressed harder against +the bush; I thought the pain of the flesh might in some degree counteract +the mental agony; presently I felt them no longer - the power of the +mental horror was so great that it was impossible, with that upon me, +to feel any pain from the thorns. I continued in this posture +a long time, undergoing what I cannot describe, and would not attempt +if I were able. Several times I was on the point of starting up +and rushing anywhere; but I restrained myself, for I knew I could not +escape from myself, so why should I not remain in the dingle? +So I thought and said to myself, for my reasoning powers were still +uninjured. At last it appeared to me that the horror was not so +strong, not quite so strong, upon me. Was it possible that it +was relaxing its grasp, releasing its prey? Oh what a mercy! but +it could not be; and yet - I looked up to heaven, and clasped my hands, +and said, ‘Our Father.’ I said no more - I was too +agitated; and now I was almost sure that the horror had done its worst.<br> +<br> +After a little time I arose, and staggered down yet farther into the +dingle. I again found my little horse on the same spot as before. +I put my hand to his mouth - he licked my hand. I flung myself +down by him, and put my arms round his neck; the creature whinnied, +and appeared to sympathise with me. What a comfort to have any +one, even a dumb brute, to sympathise with me at such a moment! +I clung to my little horse, as if for safety and protection. I +laid my head on his neck, and felt almost calm. Presently the +fear returned, but not so wild as before; it subsided, came again, again +subsided; then drowsiness came over me, and at last I fell asleep, my +head supported on the neck of the little horse. I awoke; it was +dark, dark night - not a star was to be seen - but I felt no fear, the +horror had left me. I arose from the side of the little horse, +and went into my tent, lay down, and again went to sleep.<br> +<br> +I awoke in the morning weak and sore, and shuddering at the remembrance +of what I had gone through on the preceding day; the sun was shining +brightly, but it had not yet risen high enough to show its head above +the trees which fenced the eastern side of the dingle, on which account +the dingle was wet and dank from the dews of the night. I kindled +my fire, and, after sitting by it for some time to warm my frame, I +took some of the coarse food which I have already mentioned; notwithstanding +my late struggle, and the coarseness of the fare, I ate with appetite. +My provisions had by this time been very much diminished, and I saw +that it would be speedily necessary, in the event of my continuing to +reside in the dingle, to lay in a fresh store. After my meal, +I went to the pit and filled a can with water, which I brought to the +dingle, and then again sat down on my stone. I considered what +I should next do: it was necessary to do something, or my life in this +solitude would be insupportable. What should I do? rouse up my +forge and fashion a horse-shoe? But I wanted nerve and heart for +such an employment; moreover, I had no motive for fatiguing myself in +this manner; my own horse was shod, no other was at hand, and it is +hard to work for the sake of working. What should I do? read? +Yes, but I had no other book than the Bible which the Welsh Methodist +had given me. Well, why not read the Bible? I was once fond of +reading the Bible; ay, but those days were long gone by. However, +I did not see what else I could well do on the present occasion - so +I determined to read the Bible - it was in Welsh; at any rate it might +amuse me. So I took the Bible out of the sack, in which it was +lying in the cart, and began to read at the place where I chanced to +open it. I opened it at that part where the history of Saul commences. +At first I read with indifference, but after some time my attention +was riveted, and no wonder, I had come to the visitations of Saul - +those dark moments of his, when he did and said such unaccountable things; +it almost appeared to me that I was reading of myself; I, too, had my +visitations, dark as ever his were. Oh, how I sympathised with +Saul, the tall dark man! I had read his life before, but it had +made no impression on me; it had never occurred to me that I was like +him; but I now sympathised with Saul, for my own dark hour was but recently +passed, and, perhaps, would soon return again; the dark hour came frequently +on Saul.<br> +<br> +Time wore away; I finished the book of Saul, and, closing the volume, +returned it to its place. I then returned to my seat on the stone, +and thought of what I had read, and what I had lately undergone. +All at once I thought I felt well-known sensations, a cramping of the +breast, and a tingling of the soles of the feet; they were what I had +felt on the preceding day - they were the forerunners of the fear. +I sat motionless on my stone, the sensations passed away, and the fear +came not. Darkness was now coming again over the earth; the dingle +was again in deep shade; I roused the fire with the breath of the bellows, +and sat looking at the cheerful glow; it was cheering and comforting. +My little horse came now and lay down on the ground beside the forge; +I was not quite deserted. I again ate some of the coarse food, +and drank plentifully of the water which I had fetched in the morning. +I then put fresh fuel on the fire, and sat for a long time looking on +the blaze; I then went into my tent.<br> +<br> +I awoke, on my own calculation, about midnight - it was pitch dark, +and there was much fear upon me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXXV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Free and independent - I don’t see why - Oats - A noise - Unwelcome +visitors - What’s the matter? - Good-day to ye - The tall girl +- Dovrefeld - Blow on the face - Civil enough - What’s this? - +Vulgar woman - Hands off - Gasping for breath - Long Melford - A pretty +manoeuvre - A long draught - Signs of animation - It won’t do +- No malice - Bad people.<br> +<br> +Two mornings after the period to which I have brought the reader in +the preceding chapter, I sat by my fire at the bottom of the dingle; +I had just breakfasted, and had finished the last morsel of food which +I had brought with me to that solitude.<br> +<br> +‘What shall I now do?’ said I to myself; ‘shall I +continue here, or decamp? - this is a sad lonely spot - perhaps I had +better quit it; but whither shall I go? the wide world is before me, +but what can I do therein? I have been in the world already without +much success. No, I had better remain here; the place is lonely, +it is true, but here I am free and independent, and can do what I please; +but I can’t remain here without food. Well, I will find +my way to the nearest town, lay in a fresh supply of provision, and +come back, turning my back upon the world, which has turned its back +upon me. I don’t see why I should not write a little sometimes; +I have pens and an ink-horn, and for a writing-desk I can place the +Bible on my knee. I shouldn’t wonder if I could write a +capital satire on the world on the back of that Bible; but, first of +all, I must think of supplying myself with food.’<br> +<br> +I rose up from the stone on which I was seated, determining to go to +the nearest town, with my little horse and cart, and procure what I +wanted. The nearest town, according to my best calculation, lay +about five miles distant; I had no doubt, however, that, by using ordinary +diligence, I should be back before evening. In order to go lighter, +I determined to leave my tent standing as it was, and all the things +which I had purchased of the tinker, just as they were. ‘I +need not be apprehensive on their account,’ said I to myself; +‘nobody will come here to meddle with them - the great recommendation +of this place is its perfect solitude - I daresay that I could live +here six months without seeing a single human visage. I will now +harness my little gry and be off to the town.’<br> +<br> +At a whistle which I gave, the little gry, which was feeding on the +bank near the uppermost part of the dingle, came running to me, for +by this time he had become so accustomed to me that he would obey my +call, for all the world as if he had been one of the canine species. +‘Now,’ said I to him, ‘we are going to the town to +buy bread for myself and oats for you - I am in a hurry to be back; +therefore I pray you to do your best, and to draw me and the cart to +the town with all possible speed, and to bring us back; if you do your +best, I promise you oats on your return. You know the meaning +of oats, Ambrol?’ Ambrol whinnied as if to let me know that +he understood me perfectly well, as indeed he well might, as I had never +once fed him during the time that he had been in my possession without +saying the word in question to him. Now, Ambrol, in the gypsy +tongue, signifieth a pear.<br> +<br> +So I caparisoned Ambrol, and then, going to the cart, I removed two +or three things from it into the tent; I then lifted up the shafts, +and was just going to call to the pony to come and be fastened to them, +when I thought I heard a noise.<br> +<br> +I stood stock still, supporting the shaft of the little cart in my hand, +and bending the right side of my face slightly towards the ground, but +I could hear nothing; the noise which I thought I had heard was not +one of those sounds which I was accustomed to hear in that solitude +- the note of a bird, or the rustling of a bough; it was - there I heard +it again, a sound very much resembling the grating of a wheel amongst +gravel. Could it proceed from the road? Oh no, the road +was too far distant for me to hear the noise of anything moving along +it. Again I listened, and now I distinctly heard the sound of wheels, +which seemed to be approaching the dingle; nearer and nearer they drew, +and presently the sound of wheels was blended with the murmur of voices. +Anon I heard a boisterous shout, which seemed to proceed from the entrance +of the dingle. ‘Here are folks at hand,’ said I, letting +the shaft of the cart fall to the ground; ‘is it possible that +they can be coming here?’ My doubts on that point, if I +entertained any, were soon dispelled; the wheels, which had ceased moving +for a moment or two, were once again in motion, and were now evidently +moving down the winding path which led to my retreat. Leaving +my cart, I came forward and placed myself near the entrance of the open +space, with my eyes fixed on the path down which my unexpected, and +I may say unwelcome, visitors were coming. Presently I heard a +stamping or sliding, as if of a horse in some difficulty; then a loud +curse, and the next moment appeared a man and a horse and cart; the +former holding the head of the horse up to prevent him from falling, +of which he was in danger, owing to the precipitous nature of the path. +Whilst thus occupied, the head of the man was averted from me. +When, however, he had reached the bottom of the descent, he turned his +head, and perceiving me, as I stood bareheaded, without either coat +or waistcoat, about two yards from him, he gave a sudden start, so violent +that the backward motion of his hand had nearly flung the horse upon +his haunches.<br> +<br> +‘Why don’t you move forward?’ said a voice from behind, +apparently that of a female; ‘you are stopping up the way, and +we shall be all down upon one another’; and I saw the head of +another horse overtopping the back of the cart.<br> +<br> +‘Why don’t you move forward, Jack?’ said another voice, +also a female, yet higher up the path.<br> +<br> +The man stirred not, but remained staring at me in the posture which +he had assumed on first perceiving me, his body very much drawn back, +his left foot far in advance of his right, and with his right hand still +grasping the halter of the horse, which gave way more and more, till +it was clean down on its haunches.<br> +<br> +‘What’s the matter?’ said the voice which I had last +heard.<br> +<br> +‘Get back with you, Belle, Moll,’ said the man, still staring +at me; ‘here’s something not over canny or comfortable.’<br> +<br> +‘What is it?’ said the same voice; ‘let me pass, Moll, +and I’ll soon clear the way’; and I heard a kind of rushing +down the path.<br> +<br> +‘You need not be afraid,’ said I, addressing myself to the +man, ‘I mean you no harm; I am a wanderer like yourself - come +here to seek for shelter - you need not be afraid; I am a Roman chabo +by matriculation - one of the right sort, and no mistake - Good-day +to ye, brother; I bid ye welcome.’<br> +<br> +The man eyed me suspiciously for a moment - then, turning to his horse +with a loud curse, he pulled him up from his haunches, and led him and +the cart farther down to one side of the dingle, muttering, as he passed +me, ‘Afraid! Hm!’<br> +<br> +I do not remember ever to have seen a more ruffianly-looking fellow; +he was about six feet high, with an immensely athletic frame; his face +was black and bluff, and sported an immense pair of whiskers, but with +here and there a gray hair, for his age could not be much under fifty. +He wore a faded blue frock-coat, corduroys, and highlows; on his black +head was a kind of red nightcap, round his bull neck a Barcelona handkerchief +- I did not like the look of the man at all.<br> +<br> +‘Afraid!’ growled the fellow, proceeding to unharness his +horse; ‘that was the word, I think.’<br> +<br> +But other figures were now already upon the scene. Dashing past +the other horse and cart, which by this time had reached the bottom +of the pass, appeared an exceedingly tall woman, or rather girl, for +she could scarcely have been above eighteen; she was dressed in a tight +bodice and a blue stuff gown; hat, bonnet, or cap she had none, and +her hair, which was flaxen, hung down on her shoulders unconfined; her +complexion was fair, and her features handsome, with a determined but +open expression - she was followed by another female, about forty, stout +and vulgar-looking, at whom I scarcely glanced, my whole attention being +absorbed by the tall girl.<br> +<br> +‘What’s the matter, Jack?’ said the latter, looking +at the man.<br> +<br> +‘Only afraid, that’s all,’ said the man, still proceeding +with his work.<br> +<br> +‘Afraid at what - at that lad? why, he looks like a ghost - I +would engage to thrash him with one hand.’<br> +<br> +‘You might beat me with no hands at all,’ said I, ‘fair +damsel, only by looking at me - I never saw such a face and figure, +both regal - why, you look like Ingeborg, Queen of Norway; she had twelve +brothers, you know, and could lick them all, though they were heroes:-<br> +<br> +<br> +On Dovrefeld in Norway<br> +Were once together seen<br> +The twelve heroic brothers<br> +Of Ingeborg the queen.’<br> +<br> +<br> +‘None of your chaffing, young fellow,’ said the tall girl, +‘or I will give you what shall make you wipe your face; be civil, +or you will rue it.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, perhaps I was a peg too high,’ said I; ‘I ask +your pardon - here’s something a bit lower:-<br> +<br> +<br> +As I was jawing to the gav yeck divvus<br> +I met on the drom miro Rommany chi - ’<br> +<br> +<br> +None of your Rommany chies, young fellow,’ said the tall girl, +looking more menacingly than before, and clenching her fist; ‘you +had better be civil, I am none of your chies; and though I keep company +with gypsies, or, to speak more proper, half-and-halfs, I would have +you to know that I come of Christian blood and parents, and was born +in the great house of Long Melford.’<br> +<br> +‘I have no doubt,’ said I, ‘that it was a great house; +judging from your size I shouldn’t wonder if you were born in +a church.’<br> +<br> +‘Stay, Belle,’ said the man, putting himself before the +young virago, who was about to rush upon me, ‘my turn is first’ +- then, advancing to me in a menacing attitude, he said, with a look +of deep malignity, ‘“Afraid,” was the word, wasn’t +it?’<br> +<br> +‘It was,’ said I, ‘but I think I wronged you; I should +have said, aghast; you exhibited every symptom of one labouring under +uncontrollable fear.’<br> +<br> +The fellow stared at me with a look of stupid ferocity, and appeared +to be hesitating whether to strike or not: ere he could make up his +mind, the tall girl started forward, crying, ‘He’s chaffing; +let me at him’; and before I could put myself on my guard, she +struck me a blow on the face which had nearly brought me to the ground.<br> +<br> +‘Enough,’ said I, putting my hand to my cheek; ‘you +have now performed your promise, and made me wipe my face: now be pacified, +and tell me fairly the grounds of this quarrel.’<br> +<br> +‘Grounds!’ said the fellow; ‘didn’t you say +I was afraid; and if you hadn’t, who gave you leave to camp on +my ground?’<br> +<br> +‘Is it your ground?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘A pretty question,’ said the fellow; ‘as if all the +world didn’t know that. Do you know who I am?’<br> +<br> +‘I guess I do,’ said I; ‘unless I am much mistaken, +you are he whom folks call the “Flaming Tinman.” To +tell you the truth, I’m glad we have met, for I wished to see +you. These are your two wives, I suppose; I greet them. +There’s no harm done - there’s room enough here for all +of us - we shall soon be good friends, I daresay; and when we are a +little better acquainted, I’ll tell you my history.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, if that doesn’t beat all!’ said the fellow.<br> +<br> +‘I don’t think he’s chaffing now,’ said the +girl, whose anger seemed to have subsided on a sudden; ‘the young +man speaks civil enough.’<br> +<br> +‘Civil!’ said the fellow, with an oath; ‘but that’s +just like you; with you it is a blow, and all over. Civil! +I suppose you would have him stay here, and get into all my secrets, +and hear all I may have to say to my two morts.’<br> +<br> +‘Two morts!’ said the girl, kindling up, ‘where are +they? Speak for one, and no more. I am no mort of yours, +whatever some one else may be. I tell you one thing, Black John, +or Anselo, - for t’other ain’t your name, - the same thing +I told the young man here, be civil, or you will rue it.’<br> +<br> +The fellow looked at the girl furiously, but his glance soon quailed +before hers; he withdrew his eyes, and cast them on my little horse, +which was feeding amongst the trees. ‘What’s this?’ +said he, rushing forward and seizing the animal. ‘Why, as +I am alive, this is the horse of that mumping villain Slingsby.’<br> +<br> +‘It’s his no longer; I bought it and paid for it.’<br> +<br> +‘It’s mine now,’ said the fellow; ‘I swore I +would seize it the next time I found it on my beat; ay, and beat the +master too.’<br> +<br> +‘I am not Slingsby.’<br> +<br> +‘All’s one for that.’<br> +<br> +‘You don’t say you will beat me?’<br> +<br> +‘Afraid was the word.’<br> +<br> +‘I’m sick and feeble.’<br> +<br> +‘Hold up your fists.’<br> +<br> +‘Won’t the horse satisfy you?’<br> +<br> +‘Horse nor bellows either.’<br> +<br> +‘No mercy, then?’<br> +<br> +‘Here’s at you.’<br> +<br> +‘Mind your eyes, Jack. There, you’ve got it. +I thought so,’ shouted the girl, as the fellow staggered back +from a sharp blow in the eye; ‘I thought he was chaffing at you +all along.’<br> +<br> +‘Never mind, Anselo. You know what to do - go in,’ +said the vulgar woman, who had hitherto not spoken a word, but who now +came forward with all the look of a fury; ‘go inapopli; you’ll +smash ten like he.’<br> +<br> +The Flaming Tinman took her advice, and came in bent on smashing, but +stopped short on receiving a left-handed blow on the nose.<br> +<br> +‘You’ll never beat the Flaming Tinman in that way,’ +said the girl, looking at me doubtfully.<br> +<br> +And so I began to think myself, when, in the twinkling of an eye, the +Flaming Tinman, disengaging himself of his frock-coat, and dashing off +his red night-cap, came rushing in more desperately than ever. +To a flush hit which he received in the mouth he paid as little attention +as a wild bull would have done; in a moment his arms were around me, +and in another he had hurled me down, falling heavily upon me. +The fellow’s strength appeared to be tremendous.<br> +<br> +‘Pay him off now,’ said the vulgar woman. The Flaming +Tinman made no reply, but, planting his knee on my breast, seized my +throat with two huge horny hands. I gave myself up for dead, and +probably should have been so in another minute but for the tall girl, +who caught hold of the handkerchief which the fellow wore round his +neck, with a grasp nearly as powerful us that with which he pressed +my throat.<br> +<br> +‘Do you call that fair play?’ said she.<br> +<br> +‘Hands off, Belle,’ said the other woman; ‘do you +call it fair play to interfere? hands off, or I’ll be down upon +you myself.’<br> +<br> +But Belle paid no heed to the injunction, and tugged so hard at the +handkerchief that the Flaming Tinman was nearly throttled; suddenly +relinquishing his hold of me, he started on his feet, and aimed a blow +at my fair preserver, who avoided it, but said coolly:-<br> +<br> +‘Finish t’other business first, and then I’m your +woman whenever you like; but finish it fairly - no foul play when I’m +by - I’ll be the boy’s second, and Moll can pick up you +when he happens to knock you down.’<br> +<br> +The battle during the next ten minutes raged with considerable fury, +but it so happened that during this time I was never able to knock the +Flaming Tinman down, but on the contrary received six knock-down blows +myself. ‘I can never stand this,’ said I, as I sat +on the knee of Belle, ‘I am afraid I must give in; the Flaming +Tinman hits very hard,’ and I spat out a mouthful of blood.<br> +<br> +‘Sure enough you’ll never beat the Flaming Tinman in the +way you fight - it’s of no use flipping at the Flaming Tinman +with your left hand; why don’t you use your right?’<br> +<br> +‘Because I’m not handy with it,’ said I; and then +getting up, I once more confronted the Flaming Tinman, and struck him +six blows for his one, but they were all left-handed blows, and the +blow which the Flaming Tinman gave me knocked me off my legs.<br> +<br> +‘Now, will you use Long Melford?’ said Belle, picking me +up.<br> +<br> +‘I don’t know what you mean by Long Melford,’ said +I, gasping for breath.<br> +<br> +‘Why, this long right of yours,’ said Belle, feeling my +right arm; ‘if you do, I shouldn’t wonder if you yet stand +a chance.’ And now the Flaming Tinman was once more ready, +much more ready than myself. I, however, rose from my second’s +knee as well as my weakness would permit me. On he came, striking +left and right, appearing almost as fresh as to wind and spirit as when +he first commenced the combat, though his eyes were considerably swelled, +and his nether lip was cut in two; on he came, striking left and right, +and I did not like his blows at all, or even the wind of them, which +was anything but agreeable, and I gave way before him. At last +he aimed a blow which, had it taken full effect, would doubtless have +ended the battle, but owing to his slipping, the fist only grazed my +left shoulder, and came with terrific force against a tree, close to +which I had been driven; before the Tinman could recover himself, I +collected all my strength, and struck him beneath the ear, and then +fell to the ground completely exhausted; and it so happened that the +blow which I struck the Tinker beneath the ear was a right-handed blow.<br> +<br> +‘Hurrah for Long Melford!’ I heard Belle exclaim; ‘there +is nothing like Long Melford for shortness, all the world over.’ +At these words I turned round my head as I lay, and perceived the Flaming +Tinman stretched upon the ground apparently senseless. ‘He +is dead,’ said the vulgar woman, as she vainly endeavoured to +raise him up; ‘he is dead; the best man in all the north country, +killed in this fashion, by a boy!’ Alarmed at these words, +I made shift to get on my feet; and, with the assistance of the woman, +placed my fallen adversary in a sitting posture. I put my hand +to his heart, and felt a slight pulsation - ‘He’s not dead,’ +said I, ‘only stunned; if he were let blood, he would recover +presently.’ I produced a penknife which I had in my pocket, +and, baring the arm of the Tinman, was about to make the necessary incision, +when the woman gave me a violent blow, and, pushing me aside, exclaimed, +‘I’ll tear the eyes out of your head if you offer to touch +him. Do you want to complete your work, and murder him outright, +now he’s asleep? you have had enough of his blood already.’ +‘You are mad,’ said I, ‘I only seek to do him service. +Well, if you won’t let him be blooded, fetch some water and fling +it in his face, you know where the pit is.’<br> +<br> +‘A pretty manoeuvre!’ said the woman; ‘leave my husband +in the hands of you and that limmer, who has never been true to us - +I should find him strangled or his throat cut when I came back.’ +‘Do you go,’ said I to the tall girl; ‘take the can +and fetch some water from the pit.’ ‘You had better +go yourself,’ said the girl, wiping a tear as she looked on the +yet senseless form of the Tinker; ‘you had better go yourself, +if you think water will do him good.’ I had by this time +somewhat recovered my exhausted powers, and, taking the can, I bent +my steps as fast as I could to the pit; arriving there, I lay down on +the brink, took a long draught, and then plunged my head into the water; +after which I filled the can, and bent my way back to the dingle. +Before I could reach the path which led down into its depths, I had +to pass some way along its side; I had arrived at a part immediately +over the scene of the last encounter, where the bank, overgrown with +trees, sloped precipitously down. Here I heard a loud sound of +voices in the dingle; I stopped, and laying hold of a tree, leaned over +the bank and listened. The two women appeared to be in hot dispute +in the dingle. ‘It was all owing to you, you limmer,’ +said the vulgar woman to the other; ‘had you not interfered, the +old man would soon have settled the boy.’<br> +<br> +‘I’m for fair play and Long Melford,’ said the other. +‘If your old man, as you call him, could have settled the boy +fairly, he might for all I should have cared, but no foul work for me, +and as for sticking the boy with our gulleys when he comes back, as +you proposed, I am not so fond of your old man or you that I should +oblige you in it, to my soul’s destruction.’ ‘Hold +your tongue, or I’ll - ’ I listened no farther, but +hastened as fast as I could to the dingle. My adversary had just +begun to show signs of animation; the vulgar woman was still supporting +him, and occasionally cast glances of anger at the tall girl, who was +walking slowly up and down. I lost no time in dashing the greater +part of the water into the Tinman’s face, whereupon he sneezed, +moved his hands, and presently looked round him. At first his +looks were dull and heavy, and without any intelligence at all; he soon, +however, began to recollect himself, and to be conscious of his situation; +he cast a scowling glance at me, then one of the deepest malignity at +the tall girl, who was still walking about without taking much notice +of what was going forward. At last he looked at his right hand, +which had evidently suffered from the blow against the tree, and a half-stifled +curse escaped his lips. The vulgar woman now said something to +him in a low tone, whereupon he looked at her for a moment, and then +got upon his legs. Again the vulgar woman said something to him; +her looks were furious, and she appeared to be urging him on to attempt +something. I observed that she had a clasped knife in her hand. +The fellow remained standing for some time as if hesitating what to +do; at last he looked at his hand, and, shaking his head, said something +to the woman which I did not understand. The tall girl, however, +appeared to overhear him, and, probably repeating his words, said, ‘No, +it won’t do; you are right there; and now hear what I have to +say, - let bygones be bygones, and let us all shake hands, and camp +here, as the young man was saying just now.’ The man looked +at her, and then, without any reply, went to his horse, which was lying +down among the trees, and kicking it up, led it to the cart, to which +he forthwith began to harness it. The other cart and horse had +remained standing motionless during the whole affair which I have been +recounting, at the bottom of the pass. The woman now took the +horse by the head, and leading it with the cart into the open part of +the dingle, turned both round, and then led them back, till the horse +and cart had mounted a little way up the ascent; she then stood still +and appeared to be expecting the man. During this proceeding Belle +had stood looking on without saying anything; at last, perceiving that +the man had harnessed his horse to the other cart, and that both he +and the woman were about to take their departure, she said, ‘You +are not going, are you?’ Receiving no answer, she continued: +‘I tell you what, both of you, Black John, and you Moll, his mort, +this is not treating me over civilly, - however, I am ready to put up +with it, and to go with you if you like, for I bear no malice. +I’m sorry for what has happened, but you have only yourselves +to thank for it. Now, shall I go with you, only tell me?’ +The man made no manner of reply, but flogged his horse. The woman, +however, whose passions were probably under less control, replied, with +a screeching tone, ‘Stay where you are, you jade, and may the +curse of Judas cling to you, - stay with the bit of a mullo whom you +helped, and my only hope is that he may gulley you before he comes to +be . . . . Have you with us, indeed! after what’s past! no, nor +nothing belonging to you. Fetch down your mailia go-cart and live +here with your chabo.’ She then whipped on the horse, and +ascended the pass, followed by the man. The carts were light, +and they were not long in ascending the winding path. I followed +to see that they took their departure. Arriving at the top, I +found near the entrance a small donkey-cart, which I concluded belonged +to the girl. The tinker and his mort were already at some distance; +I stood looking after them for a little time, then taking the donkey +by the reins I led it with the cart to the bottom of the dingle. +Arrived there, I found Belle seated on the stone by the fireplace. +Her hair was all dishevelled, and she was in tears.<br> +<br> +‘They were bad people,’ said she, ‘and I did not like +them, but they were my only acquaintance in the wide world.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXXVI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +At tea - Vapours - Isopel Berners - Softly and kindly - Sweet pretty +creature - Bread and water - Two sailors - Truth and constancy - Very +strangely.<br> +<br> +In the evening of that same day the tall girl and I sat at tea by the +fire, at the bottom of the dingle; the girl on a small stool, and myself, +as usual, upon my stone.<br> +<br> +The water which served for the tea had been taken from a spring of pellucid +water in the neighbourhood, which I had not had the good fortune to +discover, though it was well known to my companion, and to the wandering +people who frequented the dingle.<br> +<br> +‘This tea is very good,’ said I, ‘but I cannot enjoy +it as much as if I were well: I feel very sadly.’<br> +<br> +‘How else should you feel,’ said the girl, ‘after +fighting with the Flaming Tinman? All I wonder at is that you +can feel at all! As for the tea, it ought to be good, seeing that +it cost me ten shillings a pound.’<br> +<br> +‘That’s a great deal for a person in your station to pay.’<br> +<br> +‘In my station! I’d have you to know, young man - +however, I haven’t the heart to quarrel with you, you look so +ill; and after all, it is a good sum for one to pay who travels the +roads; but if I must have tea, I like to have the best; and tea I must +have, for I am used to it, though I can’t help thinking that it +sometimes fills my head with strange fancies - what some folks call +vapours, making me weep and cry.’<br> +<br> +‘Dear me,’ said I, ‘I should never have thought that +one of your size and fierceness would weep and cry!’<br> +<br> +‘My size and fierceness! I tell you what, young man, you +are not over civil this evening; but you are ill, as I said before, +and I shan’t take much notice of your language, at least for the +present; as for my size, I am not so much bigger than yourself; and +as for being fierce, you should be the last one to fling that at me. +It is well for you that I can be fierce sometimes. If I hadn’t +taken your part against Blazing Bosville, you wouldn’t be now +taking tea with me.’<br> +<br> +‘It is true that you struck me in the face first; but we’ll +let that pass. So that man’s name is Bosville; what’s +your own?’<br> +<br> +‘Isopel Berners.’<br> +<br> +‘How did you get that name?’<br> +<br> +‘I say, young man, you seem fond of asking questions: will you +have another cup of tea?’<br> +<br> +‘I was just going to ask for another.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, then, here it is, and much good may it do you; as for my +name, I got it from my mother.’<br> +<br> +‘Your mother’s name, then, was Isopel!’<br> +<br> +‘Isopel Berners.’<br> +<br> +‘But had you never a father?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, I had a father,’ said the girl, sighing, ‘but +I don’t bear his name.’<br> +<br> +‘Is it the fashion, then, in your country for children to bear +their mother’s name?’<br> +<br> +‘If you ask such questions, young man, I shall be angry with you. +I have told you my name, and, whether my father’s or mother’s, +I am not ashamed of it.’<br> +<br> +‘It is a noble name.’<br> +<br> +‘There you are right, young man. The chaplain in the great +house where I was born told me it was a noble name; it was odd enough, +he said, that the only three noble names in the county were to be found +in the great house; mine was one; the other two were Devereux and Bohun.’<br> +<br> +‘What do you mean by the great house?’<br> +<br> +‘The workhouse.’<br> +<br> +‘Is it possible that you were born there?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, young man; and as you now speak softly and kindly, I will +tell you my whole tale. My father was an officer of the sea, and +was killed at sea as he was coming home to marry my mother, Isopel Berners. +He had been acquainted with her, and had left her; but after a few months +he wrote her a letter, to say that he had no rest, and that he repented, +and that as soon as his ship came to port he would do her all the reparation +in his power. Well, young man, the very day before they reached +port they met the enemy, and there was a fight, and my father was killed, +after he had struck down six of the enemy’s crew on their own +deck; for my father was a big man, as I have heard, and knew tolerably +well how to use his hands, And when my mother heard the news, she became +half distracted, and ran away into the fields and forests, totally neglecting +her business, for she was a small milliner; and so she ran demented +about the meads and forests for a long time, now sitting under a tree, +and now by the side of a river - at last she flung herself into some +water, and would have been drowned, had not some one been at hand and +rescued her, whereupon she was conveyed to the great house, lest she +should attempt to do herself farther mischief, for she had neither friends +nor parents - and there she died three months after, having first brought +me into the world. She was a sweet pretty creature, I’m +told, but hardly fit for this world, being neither large, nor fierce, +nor able to take her own part. So I was born and bred in the great +house, where I learnt to read and sew, to fear God, and to take my own +part. When I was fourteen I was put out to service to a small +farmer and his wife, with whom, however, I did not stay long, for I +was half-starved, and otherwise ill treated, especially by my mistress, +who one day attempting to knock me down with a besom, I knocked her +down with my fist, and went back to the great house.’<br> +<br> +‘And how did they receive you in the great house?’<br> +<br> +‘Not very kindly, young man - on the contrary, I was put into +a dark room, where I was kept a fortnight on bread and water; I did +not much care, however, being glad to have got back to the great house +at any rate - the place where I was born, and where my poor mother died; +and in the great house I continued two years longer, reading and sewing, +fearing God, and taking my own part when necessary. At the end +of the two years I was again put out to service, but this time to a +rich farmer and his wife, with whom, however, I did not live long, less +time, I believe, than with the poor ones, being obliged to leave for +- ’<br> +<br> +‘Knocking your mistress down?’<br> +<br> +‘No, young man, knocking my master down, who conducted himself +improperly towards me. This time I did not go back to the great +house, having a misgiving that they would not receive me; so I turned +my back to the great house where I was born, and where my poor mother +died, and wandered for several days I know not whither, supporting myself +on a few halfpence which I chanced to have in my pocket. It happened +one day, as I sat under a hedge crying, having spent my last farthing, +that a comfortable-looking elderly woman came up in a cart, and seeing +the state in which I was, she stopped and asked what was the matter +with me; I told her some part of my story, whereupon she said, ‘Cheer +up, my dear; if you like, you shall go with me, and wait upon me.’ +Of course I wanted little persuasion, so I got into the cart and went +with her. She took me to London and various other places, and +I soon found that she was a travelling woman, who went about the country +with silks and linen. I was of great use to her, more especially +in those places where we met evil company. Once, as we were coming +from Dover, we were met by two sailors, who stopped our cart, and would +have robbed and stripped us. ‘Let me get down,’ said +I; so I got down, and fought with them both, till they turned round +and ran away. Two years I lived with the old gentlewoman, who +was very kind to me, almost as kind as a mother; at last she fell sick +at a place in Lincolnshire, and after a few days died, leaving me her +cart and stock in trade, praying me only to see her decently buried +- which I did, giving her a funeral fit for a gentlewoman. After +which I travelled the country - melancholy enough for want of company, +but so far fortunate, that I could take my own part when anybody was +uncivil to me. At last, passing through the valley of Todmorden, +I formed the acquaintance of Blazing Bosville and his wife, with whom +I occasionally took journeys for company’s sake, for it is melancholy +to travel about alone, even when one can take one’s own part. +I soon found they were evil people; but, upon the whole, they treated +me civilly, and I sometimes lent them a little money, so that we got +on tolerably well together. He and I, it is true, had once a dispute, +and nearly came to blows; for once, when we were alone, he wanted me +to marry him, promising, if I would, to turn off Grey Moll, or, if I +liked it better, to make her wait upon me as a maid-servant; I never +liked him much, but from that hour less than ever. Of the two, +I believe Grey Moll to be the best, for she is at any rate true and +faithful to him, and I like truth and constancy - don’t you, young +man?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘they are very nice things. I +feel very strangely.’<br> +<br> +‘How do you feel, young man?<br> +<br> +‘Very much afraid.’<br> +<br> +‘Afraid, at what? At the Flaming Tinman? Don’t +be afraid of him. He won’t come back, and if he did, he +shouldn’t touch you in this state, I’d fight him for you; +but he won’t come back, so you needn’t be afraid of him.’<br> +<br> +‘I’m not afraid of the Flaming Tinman.’<br> +<br> +‘What, then, are you afraid of?’<br> +<br> +‘The evil one.’<br> +<br> +‘The evil one!’ said the girl, ‘where is he?’<br> +<br> +‘Coming upon me.’<br> +<br> +‘Never heed,’ said the girl, ‘I’ll stand by +you.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXXVII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Hubbub of voices - No offence - Nodding - The guests.<br> +<br> +The kitchen of the public-house was a large one, and many people were +drinking in it; there was a confused hubbub of voices.<br> +<br> +I sat down on a bench behind a deal table, of which there were three +or four in the kitchen; presently a bulky man, in a green coat of the +Newmarket cut, and without a hat, entered, and observing me, came up, +and in rather a gruff tone cried, ‘Want anything, young fellow?’<br> +<br> +‘Bring me a jug of ale,’ said I, ‘if you are the master, +as I suppose you are, by that same coat of yours, and your having no +hat on your head.’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t be saucy, young fellow,’ said the landlord, +for such he was; ‘don’t be saucy, or - ’ Whatever +he intended to say he left unsaid, for fixing his eyes upon one of my +hands, which I had placed by chance upon the table, he became suddenly +still.<br> +<br> +This was my left hand, which was raw and swollen, from the blows dealt +on a certain hard skull in a recent combat. ‘What do you +mean by staring at my hand so?’ said I, withdrawing it from the +table.<br> +<br> +‘No offence, young man, no offence,’ said the landlord, +in a quite altered tone; ‘but the sight of your hand - ’ +then observing that our conversation began to attract the notice of +the guests in the kitchen, he interrupted himself, saying in an undertone, +‘But mum’s the word for the present, I will go and fetch +the ale.’<br> +<br> +In about a minute he returned, with a jug of ale foaming high. +‘Here’s your health,’ said he, blowing off the foam, +and drinking; but perceiving that I looked rather dissatisfied, he murmured, +‘All’s right, I glory in you; but mum’s the word.’ +Then, placing the jug on the table, he gave me a confidential nod, and +swaggered out of the room.<br> +<br> +What can the silly impertinent fellow mean? thought I; but the ale was +now before me, and I hastened to drink, for my weakness was great, and +my mind was full of dark thoughts, the remains of the indescribable +horror of the preceding night. It may kill me, thought I, as I +drank deep - but who cares? anything is better than what I have suffered. +I drank deep, and then leaned back against the wall: it appeared as +if a vapour was stealing up into my brain, gentle and benign, soothing +and stifling the horror and the fear; higher and higher it mounted, +and I felt nearly overcome; but the sensation was delicious, compared +with that I had lately experienced, and now I felt myself nodding; and, +bending down, I laid my head on the table on my folded hands.<br> +<br> +And in that attitude I remained some time, perfectly unconscious. +At length, by degrees, perception returned, and I lifted up my head. +I felt somewhat dizzy and bewildered, but the dark shadow had withdrawn +itself from me. And now once more I drank of the jug; this second +draught did not produce an overpowering effect upon me - it revived +and strengthened me - I felt a new man.<br> +<br> +I looked around me; the kitchen had been deserted by the greater part +of the guests; besides myself, only four remained; these were seated +at the farther end. One was haranguing fiercely and eagerly; he +was abusing England, and praising America. At last he exclaimed, +‘So when I gets to New York, I will toss up my hat, and damn the +King.’<br> +<br> +That man must be a Radical, thought I.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXXVIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +A Radical - Simple-looking man - Church of England - The President - +Aristocracy - Gin and water - Mending the roads - Persecuting Church +- Simon de Montfort - Broken bells - Get up - Not for the Pope - Quay +of New York - Mumpers’ Dingle - No wish to fight - First draught +- A poor pipe - Half-a-crown broke.<br> +<br> +The individual whom I supposed to be a Radical, after a short pause, +again uplifted his voice; he was rather a strong-built fellow of about +thirty, with an ill-favoured countenance, a white hat on his head, a +snuff-coloured coat on his back, and when he was not speaking, a pipe +in his mouth. ‘Who would live in such a country as England?’ +he shouted.<br> +<br> +‘There is no country like America,’ said his nearest neighbour, +a man also in a white hat, and of a very ill-favoured countenance - +‘there is no country like America,’ said he, withdrawing +a pipe from his mouth; ‘I think I shall - ’ and here he +took a draught from a jug, the contents of which he appeared to have +in common with the other, - ‘go to America one of these days myself.’<br> +<br> +‘Poor old England is not such a bad country, after all,’ +said a third, a simple-looking man in a labouring dress, who sat smoking +a pipe without anything before him. ‘If there was but a +little more work to be got, I should have nothing to say against her; +I hope, however - ’<br> +<br> +‘You hope! who cares what you hope?’ interrupted the first, +in a savage tone; ‘you are one of those sneaking hounds who are +satisfied with dogs’ wages - a bit of bread and a kick. +Work, indeed! who, with the spirit of a man, would work for a country +where there is neither liberty of speech nor of action? a land full +of beggarly aristocracy, hungry borough-mongers, insolent parsons, and +“their . . . wives and daughters,” as William Cobbett says, +in his “Register.”’<br> +<br> +‘Ah, the Church of England has been a source of incalculable mischief +to these realms,’ said another.<br> +<br> +The person who uttered these words sat rather aloof from the rest; he +was dressed in a long black surtout. I could not see much of his +face, partly owing to his keeping it very much directed to the ground, +and partly owing to a large slouched hat which he wore; I observed, +however, that his hair was of a reddish tinge. On the table near +him was a glass and spoon.<br> +<br> +‘You are quite right,’ said the first, alluding to what +this last had said, ‘the Church of England has done incalculable +mischief here. I value no religion three halfpence, for I believe +in none; but the one that I hate most is the Church of England; so when +I get to New York, after I have shown the fine fellows on the quay a +spice of me, by . . . the King, I’ll toss up my hat again, and +. . . the Church of England too.’<br> +<br> +‘And suppose the people of New York should clap you in the stocks?’ +said I.<br> +<br> +These words drew upon me the attention of the whole four. The +Radical and his companion stared at me ferociously; the man in black +gave me a peculiar glance from under his slouched hat; the simple-looking +man in the labouring dress laughed.<br> +<br> +‘What are you laughing at, you fool?’ said the Radical, +turning and looking at the other, who appeared to be afraid of him; +‘hold your noise; and a pretty fellow, you,’ said he, looking +at me, ‘to come here, and speak against the great American nation.’<br> +<br> +‘I speak against the great American nation!’ said I; ‘I +rather paid them a compliment.’<br> +<br> +‘By supposing they would put me in the stocks. Well, I call +it abusing them, to suppose they would do any such thing - stocks, indeed! +- there are no stocks in all the land. Put me in the stocks! why, +the President will come down to the quay, and ask me to dinner, as soon +as he hears what I have said about the King and Church.’<br> +<br> +‘I shouldn’t wonder,’ said I, ‘if you go to +America you will say of the President and country what now you say of +the King and Church, and cry out for somebody to send you back to England.’<br> +<br> +The Radical dashed his pipe to pieces against the table. ‘I +tell you what, young fellow, you are a spy of the aristocracy, sent +here to kick up a disturbance.’<br> +<br> +‘Kicking up a disturbance,’ said I, ‘is rather inconsistent +with the office of spy. If I were a spy, I should hold my head +down, and say nothing.’<br> +<br> +The man in black partially raised his head, and gave me another peculiar +glance.<br> +<br> +‘Well, if you aren’t sent to spy, you are sent to bully, +to prevent people speaking, and to run down the great American nation; +but you shan’t bully me. I say, down with the aristocracy, +the beggarly British aristocracy. Come, what have you to say to +that?’<br> +<br> +‘Nothing,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Nothing!’ repeated the Radical.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘down with them as soon as you can.’<br> +<br> +‘As soon as I can! I wish I could. But I can down +with a bully of theirs. Come, will you fight for them?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘You won’t?<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I; ‘though, from what I have seen of them, +I should say they are tolerably able to fight for themselves.’<br> +<br> +‘You won’t fight for them,’ said the Radical triumphantly; +‘I thought so; all bullies, especially those of the aristocracy, +are cowards. Here, landlord,’ said he, raising his voice, +and striking against the table with the jug, ‘some more ale - +he won’t fight for his friends.’<br> +<br> +‘A white feather,’ said his companion.<br> +<br> +‘He! he!’ tittered the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘Landlord, landlord,’ shouted the Radical, striking the +table with the jug louder than before. ‘Who called?’ +said the landlord, coming in at last. ‘Fill this jug again,’ +said the other, ‘and be quick about it.’ ‘Does +any one else want anything?’ said the landlord. ‘Yes,’ +said the man in black; ‘you may bring me another glass of gin +and water.’ ‘Cold?’ said the landlord. +‘Yes,’ said the man in black, ‘with a lump of sugar +in it.’<br> +<br> +‘Gin and water cold, with a lump of sugar in it,’ said I, +and struck the table with my fist.<br> +<br> +‘Take some?’ said the landlord, inquiringly.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘only something came into my head.’<br> +<br> +‘He’s mad,’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘Not he,’ said the Radical. ‘He’s only +shamming; he knows his master is here, and therefore has recourse to +these manoeuvres, but it won’t do. Come, landlord, what +are you staring at? Why don’t you obey your orders? +Keeping your customers waiting in this manner is not the way to increase +your business.’<br> +<br> +The landlord looked at the Radical, and then at me. At last, taking +the jug and glass, he left the apartment, and presently returned with +each filled with its respective liquor. He placed the jug with +beer before the Radical, and the glass with the gin and water before +the man in black, and then, with a wink to me, he sauntered out.<br> +<br> +‘Here is your health, sir,’ said the man of the snuff-coloured +coat, addressing himself to the one in black; ‘I honour you for +what you said about the Church of England. Every one who speaks +against the Church of England has my warm heart. Down with it, +I say, and may the stones of it be used for mending the roads, as my +friend William says in his Register.’<br> +<br> +The man in black, with a courteous nod of his head, drank to the man +in the snuff-coloured coat. ‘With respect to the steeples,’ +said he, ‘I am not altogether of your opinion; they might be turned +to better account than to serve to mend the roads; they might still +be used as places of worship, but not for the worship of the Church +of England. I have no fault to find with the steeples, it is the +Church itself which I am compelled to arraign; but it will not stand +long, the respectable part of its ministers are already leaving it. +It is a bad Church, a persecuting Church.’<br> +<br> +‘Whom does it persecute?’ said I.<br> +<br> +The man in black glanced at me slightly, and then replied slowly, ‘The +Catholics.’<br> +<br> +‘And do those whom you call Catholics never persecute?’ +said I.<br> +<br> +‘Never,’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘Did you ever read Foxe’s <i>Book of Martyrs</i>?’ +said I.<br> +<br> +‘He! he!’ tittered the man in black; ‘there is not +a word of truth in Foxe’s <i>Book of Martyrs</i>.’<br> +<br> +‘Ten times more than in the <i>Flos Sanctorum</i>,’ said +I.<br> +<br> +The man in black looked at me, but made no answer.<br> +<br> +‘And what say you to the Massacre of the Albigenses and the Vaudois, +“whose bones lie scattered on the cold Alp,” or the Revocation +of the Edict of Nantes?’<br> +<br> +The man in black made no answer.<br> +<br> +‘Go to,’ said I; ‘it is because the Church of England +is not a persecuting church, that those whom you call the respectable +part are leaving her; it is because they can’t do with the poor +Dissenters what Simon de Montfort did with the Albigenses, and the cruel +Piedmontese with the Vaudois, that they turn to bloody Rome; the Pope +will no doubt welcome them, for the Pope, do you see, being very much +in want, will welcome - ’<br> +<br> +‘Hollo!’ said the Radical, interfering, ‘what are +you saying about the Pope? I say, hurrah for the Pope; I value +no religion three halfpence, as I said before, but if I were to adopt +any, it should be the Popish as it’s called, because I conceives +the Popish to be the grand enemy of the Church of England, of the beggarly +aristocracy, and the borough-monger system, so I won’t hear the +Pope abused while I am by. Come, don’t look fierce. +You won’t fight, you know, I have proved it; but I will give you +another chance - I will fight for the Pope, will you fight against him?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh dear me, yes,’ said I, getting up and stepping forward. +‘I am a quiet peaceable young man, and, being so, am always ready +to fight against the Pope - the enemy of all peace and quiet; to refuse +fighting for the aristocracy is a widely different thing from refusing +to fight against the Pope; so come on, if you are disposed to fight +for him. To the Pope broken bells, to Saint James broken shells. +No Popish vile oppression, but the Protestant succession. Confusion +to the Groyne, hurrah for the Boyne, for the army at Clonmel, and the +Protestant young gentlemen who live there as well.’<br> +<br> +‘An Orangeman,’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘Not a Platitude,’ said I.<br> +<br> +The man in black gave a slight start.<br> +<br> +‘Amongst that family,’ said I, ‘no doubt, something +may be done, but amongst the Methodist preachers I should conceive that +the success would not be great.’<br> +<br> +The man in black sat quite still.<br> +<br> +‘Especially amongst those who have wives,’ I added.<br> +<br> +The man in black stretched his hand towards his gin and water.<br> +<br> +‘However,’ said I, ‘we shall see what the grand movement +will bring about, and the results of the lessons in elocution.’<br> +<br> +The man in black lifted the glass up to his mouth, and, in doing so, +let the spoon fall.<br> +<br> +‘But what has this to do with the main question?’ said I; +‘I am waiting here to fight against the Pope.’<br> +<br> +‘Come, Hunter,’ said the companion of the man in the snuff +coloured coat, ‘get up, and fight for the Pope.’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t care for the young fellow,’ said the man +in the snuff-coloured coat.<br> +<br> +‘I know you don’t,’ said the other, ‘so get +up, and serve him out.’<br> +<br> +‘I could serve out three like him,’ said the man in the +snuff-coloured coat.<br> +<br> +‘So much the better for you,’ said the other, ‘the +present work will be all the easier for you, get up, and serve him out +at once.’<br> +<br> +The man in the snuff-coloured coat did not stir.<br> +<br> +‘Who shows the white feather now?’ said the simple-looking +man.<br> +<br> +‘He! he! he!’ tittered the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘Who told you to interfere?’ said the Radical, turning ferociously +towards the simple-looking man; ‘say another word and I’ll +- ’ ‘And you!’ said he, addressing himself to +the man in black, ‘a pretty fellow you to turn against me, after +I had taken your part. I tell you what, you may fight for yourself. +I’ll see you and your Pope in the pit of Eldon before I fight +for either of you, so make the most of it.’<br> +<br> +‘Then you won’t fight?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Not for the Pope,’ said the Radical; ‘I’ll +see the Pope - ’<br> +<br> +‘Dear me!’ said I, ‘not fight for the Pope, whose +religion you would turn to, if you were inclined for any. I see +how it is, you are not fond of fighting; but I’ll give you another +chance - you were abusing the Church of England just now: I’ll +fight for it - will you fight against it?’<br> +<br> +‘Come, Hunter,’ said the other, ‘get up, and fight +against the Church of England.’<br> +<br> +‘I have no particular quarrel against the Church of England,’ +said the man in the snuff-coloured coat, ‘my quarrel is with the +aristocracy. If I said anything against the Church, it was merely +for a bit of corollary, as Master William Cobbett would say; the quarrel +with the Church belongs to this fellow in black, so let him carry it +on. However,’ he continued suddenly, ‘I won’t +slink from the matter either; it shall never be said by the fine fellows +on the quay of New York that I wouldn’t fight against the Church +of England. So down with the beggarly aristocracy, the Church, +and the Pope to the bottom of the pit of Eldon, and may the Pope fall +first, and the others upon him.’<br> +<br> +Thereupon, dashing his hat on the table, he placed himself in an attitude +of offence and rushed forward. He was, as I have said before, +a powerful fellow, and might have proved a dangerous antagonist, more +especially to myself, who, after my recent encounter with the Flaming +Tinman, and my wrestlings with the evil one, was in anything but fighting +order. Any collision, however, was prevented by the landlord, +who, suddenly appearing, thrust himself between us. ‘There +shall be no fighting here,’ said he; ‘no one shall fight +in this house, except it be with myself; so if you two have anything +to say to each other, you had better go into the field behind the house. +But, you fool,’ said he, pushing Hunter violently on the breast, +‘do you know whom you are going to tackle with? - this is the +young chap that beat Blazing Bosville, only as late as yesterday, in +Mumpers’ Dingle. Grey Moll told me all about it last night, +when she came for some brandy for her husband, who, she said, had been +half killed; and she described the young man to me so closely that I +knew him at once, that is, as soon as I saw how his left hand was bruised, +for she told me he was a left-hand hitter. Aren’t it all +true, young man? Aren’t you he that beat Flaming Bosville, +in Mumpers’ Dingle?’ ‘I never beat Flaming Bosville,’ +said I, ‘he beat himself. Had he not struck his hand against +a tree, I shouldn’t be here at the present moment.’ +‘Hear, hear!’ said the landlord, ‘now that’s +just as it should be; I like a modest man, for, as the parson says, +nothing sits better upon a young man than modesty. I remember, +when I was young, fighting with Tom of Hopton, the best man that ever +pulled off coat in England. I remember, too, that I won the battle; +for I happened to hit Tom of Hopton in the mark, as he was coming in, +so that he lost his wind, and falling squelch on the ground, do ye see, +he lost the battle, though I am free to confess that he was a better +man than myself; indeed, the best man that ever fought in England; yet +still, I won the battle, as every customer of mine, and everybody within +twelve miles round, has heard over and over again. Now, Mr. Hunter, +I have one thing to say, if you choose to go into the field behind the +house, and fight the young man, you can. I’ll back him for +ten pounds; but no fighting in my kitchen - because why? I keeps +a decent kind of an establishment.’<br> +<br> +‘I have no wish to fight the young man,’ said Hunter; ‘more +especially as he has nothing to say for the aristocracy. If he +chose to fight for them, indeed - but he won’t, I know; for I +see he’s a decent, respectable young man; and, after all, fighting +is a blackguard way of settling a dispute; so I have no wish to fight; +however, there is one thing I’ll do,’ said he, uplifting +his fist, ‘I’ll fight this fellow in black here for half +a crown, or for nothing, if he pleases; it was he that got up the last +dispute between me and the young man, with his Pope and his nonsense; +so I will fight him for anything he pleases, and perhaps the young man +will be my second; whilst you - ’<br> +<br> +‘Come, Doctor,’ said the landlord, ‘or whatsoever +you be, will you go into the field with Hunter? I’ll second +you, only you must back yourself. I’ll lay five pounds on +Hunter, if you are inclined to back yourself; and will help you to win +it as far, do you see, as a second can; because why? I always +likes to do the fair thing.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, I have no wish to fight,’ said the man in black, hastily; +‘fighting is not my trade. If I have given any offence, +I beg anybody’s pardon.’<br> +<br> +‘Landlord,’ said I, ‘what have I to pay?<br> +<br> +‘Nothing at all,’ said the landlord; ‘glad to see +you. This is the first time that you have been at my house, and +I never charge new customers, at least customers such as you, anything +for the first draught. You’ll come again, I daresay; shall +always be glad to see you. I won’t take it,’ said +he, as I put sixpence on the table; ‘I won’t take it.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, you shall,’ said I; ‘but not in payment for +anything I have had myself: it shall serve to pay for a jug of ale for +that gentleman,’ said I, pointing to the simple-looking individual; +‘he is smoking a poor pipe. I do not mean to say that a +pipe is a bad thing; but a pipe without ale, do you see - ’<br> +<br> +‘Bravo!’ said the landlord, ‘that’s just the +conduct I like.’<br> +<br> +‘Bravo!’ said Hunter. ‘I shall be happy to drink +with the young man whenever I meet him at New York, where, do you see, +things are better managed than here.’<br> +<br> +‘If I have given offence to anybody,’ said the man in black, +‘I repeat that I ask pardon, - more especially to the young gentleman, +who was perfectly right to stand up for his religion, just as I - not +that I am of any particular religion, no more than this honest gentleman +here,’ bowing to Hunter; ‘but I happen to know something +of the Catholics - several excellent friends of mine are Catholics - +and of a surety the Catholic religion is an ancient religion, and a +widely-extended religion, though it certainly is not a universal religion, +but it has of late made considerable progress, even amongst those nations +who have been particularly opposed to it - amongst the Prussians and +the Dutch, for example, to say nothing of the English; and then, in +the East, amongst the Persians, amongst the Armenians.’<br> +<br> +‘The Armenians,’ said I; ‘oh dear me, the Armenians +- ’<br> +<br> +‘Have you anything to say about those people, sir?’ said +the man in black, lifting up his glass to his mouth.<br> +<br> +‘I have nothing further to say,’ said I, ‘than that +the roots of Ararat are occasionally found to be deeper than those of +Rome.’<br> +<br> +‘There’s half-a-crown broke,’ said the landlord, as +the man in black let fall the glass, which was broken to pieces on the +floor. ‘You will pay me the damage, friend, before you leave +this kitchen. I like to see people drink freely in my kitchen, +but not too freely, and I hate breakages; because why? I keeps +a decent kind of an establishment.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LXXXIX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The dingle - Give them ale - Not over complimentary - America - Many +people - Washington - Promiscuous company - Language of the roads - +The old women - Numerals - The man in black.<br> +<br> +The public-house where the scenes which I have attempted to describe +in the preceding chapters took place, was at the distance of about two +miles from the dingle. The sun was sinking in the west by the +time I returned to the latter spot. I found Belle seated by a +fire, over which her kettle was suspended. During my absence she +had prepared herself a kind of tent, consisting of large hoops covered +over with tarpaulins, quite impenetrable to rain, however violent. +‘I am glad you are returned,’ said she, as soon as she perceived +me; ‘I began to be anxious about you. Did you take my advice?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I; ‘I went to the public-house and drank +ale, as you advised me; it cheered, strengthened, and drove away the +horror from my mind - I am much beholden to you.’<br> +<br> +‘I knew it would do you good,’ said Belle; ‘I remembered +that when the poor women in the great house were afflicted with hysterics, +and fearful imaginings, the surgeon, who was a good kind man, used to +say, “Ale, give them ale, and let it be strong.”’<br> +<br> +‘He was no advocate for tea, then?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘He had no objection to tea; but he used to say, “Everything +in its season.” Shall we take ours now? - I have waited +for you.’<br> +<br> +‘I have no objection,’ said I; ‘I feel rather heated, +and at present should prefer tea to ale - “Everything in its season,” +as the surgeon said.’<br> +<br> +Thereupon Belle prepared tea, and, as we were taking it, she said - +‘What did you see and hear at the public-house?’<br> +<br> +‘Really,’ said I, ‘you appear to have your full portion +of curiosity; what matters it to you what I saw and heard at the public-house?’<br> +<br> +‘It matters very little to me,’ said Belle; ‘I merely +inquired of you, for the sake of a little conversation - you were silent, +and it is uncomfortable for two people to sit together without opening +their lips - at least I think so.’<br> +<br> +‘One only feels uncomfortable,’ said I, ‘in being +silent, when one happens to be thinking of the individual with whom +one is in company. To tell you the truth, I was not thinking of +my companion, but of certain company with whom I had been at the public-house.’<br> +<br> +‘Really, young man,’ said Belle, ‘you are not over +complimentary; but who may this wonderful company have been - some young +- ?’ and here Belle stopped.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘there was no young person - if person +you were going to say. There was a big portly landlord, whom I +daresay you have seen; a noisy savage Radical, who wanted at first to +fasten upon me a quarrel about America, but who subsequently drew in +his horns; then there was a strange fellow, a prowling priest, I believe, +whom I have frequently heard of, who at first seemed disposed to side +with the Radical against me, and afterwards with me against the Radical. +There, you know my company, and what took place.’<br> +<br> +‘Was there no one else?’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘You are mighty curious,’ said I. ‘No, none +else, except a poor simple mechanic, and some common company, who soon +went away.’<br> +<br> +Belle looked at me for a moment, and then appeared to be lost in thought +- ‘America!’ said she, musingly - ‘America!’<br> +<br> +‘What of America?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘I have heard that it is a mighty country.’<br> +<br> +‘I daresay it is,’ said I; ‘I have heard my father +say that the Americans are first-rate marksmen.’<br> +<br> +‘I heard nothing about that,’ said Belle; ‘what I +heard was, that it is a great and goodly land, where people can walk +about without jostling, and where the industrious can always find bread; +I have frequently thought of going thither.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘the Radical in the public-house will +perhaps be glad of your company thither; he is as great an admirer of +America as yourself, though I believe on different grounds.’<br> +<br> +‘I shall go by myself,’ said Belle, ‘unless - unless +that should happen which is not likely - I am not fond of Radicals no +more than I am of scoffers and mockers.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you mean to say that I am a scoffer and mocker?’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t wish to say you are,’ said Belle; ‘but +some of your words sound strangely like scoffing and mocking. +I have now one thing to beg, which is, that if you have anything to +say against America, you would speak it out boldly.’<br> +<br> +‘What should I have to say against America? I never was +there.’<br> +<br> +‘Many people speak against America who never were there.’<br> +<br> +‘Many people speak in praise of America who never were there; +but with respect to myself, I have not spoken for or against America.’<br> +<br> +‘If you liked America you would speak in its praise.’<br> +<br> +‘By the same rule, if I disliked America I should speak against +it.’<br> +<br> +‘I can’t speak with you,’ said Belle; ‘but I +see you dislike the country.’<br> +<br> +‘The country!’<br> +<br> +‘Well, the people - don’t you?’<br> +<br> +‘I do.’<br> +<br> +‘Why do you dislike them?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, I have heard my father say that the American marksmen, led +on by a chap of the name of Washington, sent the English to the right-about +in double-quick time.’<br> +<br> +‘And that is your reason for disliking the Americans?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘that is my reason for disliking them.’<br> +<br> +‘Will you take another cup of tea?’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +I took another cup; we were again silent. ‘It is rather +uncomfortable,’ said I, at last, ‘for people to sit together +without having anything to say.’<br> +<br> +‘Were you thinking of your company?’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘What company?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘The present company.’<br> +<br> +‘The present company! oh, ah - I remember that I said one only +feels uncomfortable in being silent with a companion, when one happens +to be thinking of the companion. Well, I had been thinking of +you the last two or three minutes, and had just come to the conclusion +that, to prevent us both feeling occasionally uncomfortably towards +each other, having nothing to say, it would be as well to have a standing +subject on which to employ our tongues. Belle, I have determined +to give you lessons in Armenian.’<br> +<br> +‘What is Armenian?’<br> +<br> +‘Did you ever hear of Ararat?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, that was the place where the ark rested; I have heard the +chaplain in the great house talk of it; besides, I have read of it in +the Bible.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, Armenian is the speech of people of that place, and I should +like to teach it you.’<br> +<br> +‘To prevent - ’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, ay, to prevent our occasionally feeling uncomfortable together. +Your acquiring it besides might prove of ulterior advantage to us both; +for example, suppose you and I were in promiscuous company, at Court, +for example, and you had something to communicate to me which you did +not wish any one else to be acquainted with, how safely you might communicate +it to me in Armenian.’<br> +<br> +‘Would not the language of the roads do as well?’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘In some places it would,’ said I, ‘but not at Court, +owing to its resemblance to thieves’ slang. There is Hebrew, +again, which I was thinking of teaching you, till the idea of being +presented at Court made me abandon it, from the probability of our being +understood, in the event of our speaking it, by at least half a dozen +people in our vicinity. There is Latin, it is true, or Greek, +which we might speak aloud at Court with perfect confidence of safety, +but upon the whole I should prefer teaching you Armenian, not because +it would be a safer language to hold communication with at Court, but +because, not being very well grounded in it myself, I am apprehensive +that its words and forms may escape from my recollection, unless I have +sometimes occasion to call them forth.’<br> +<br> +‘I am afraid we shall have to part company before I have learnt +it,’ said Belle; ‘in the meantime, if I wish to say anything +to you in private, somebody being by, shall I speak in the language +of the roads?’<br> +<br> +‘If no roadster is nigh you may,’ said I, ‘and I will +do my best to understand you. Belle, I will now give you a lesson +in Armenian.’<br> +<br> +‘I suppose you mean no harm,’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘Not in the least; I merely propose the thing to prevent our occasionally +feeling uncomfortable together. Let us begin.’<br> +<br> +‘Stop till I have removed the tea things,’ said Belle; and, +getting up, she removed them to her own encampment.<br> +<br> +‘I am ready,’ said Belle, returning, and taking her former +seat, ‘to join with you in anything which will serve to pass away +the time agreeably, provided there is no harm in it.’<br> +<br> +‘Belle,’ said I, ‘I have determined to commence the +course of Armenian lessons by teaching you the numerals; but, before +I do that, it will be as well to tell you that the Armenian language +is called Haik.’<br> +<br> +‘I am sure that word will hang upon my memory,’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘Why hang upon it?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Because the old women in the great house used to call so the +chimney-hook, on which they hung the kettle; in like manner, on the +hake of my memory I will hang your hake.’<br> +<br> +‘Good!’ said I, ‘you will make an apt scholar; but +mind that I did not say hake, but haik; the words are, however, very +much alike; and, as you observe, upon your hake you may hang my haik. +We will now proceed to the numerals.’<br> +<br> +‘What are numerals?’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘Numbers. I will say the Haikan numbers up to ten. +There - have you heard them?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, try and repeat them.’<br> +<br> +‘I only remember number one,’ said Belle, ‘and that +because it is me.’<br> +<br> +‘ I will repeat them again,’ said I, ‘and pay greater +attention. Now, try again.’<br> +<br> +‘Me, jergo, earache.’<br> +<br> +‘I neither said jergo nor earache. I said yergou and yerek. +Belle, I am afraid I shall have some difficulty with you as a scholar.’<br> +<br> +Belle made no answer. Her eyes were turned in the direction of +the winding path which led from the bottom of the hollow, where we were +seated, to the plain above. ‘Gorgio shunella,’ she +said at length, in a low voice.<br> +<br> +‘Pure Rommany,’ said I; ‘where?’ I added, in +a whisper.<br> +<br> +‘Dovey odoi,’ said Belle, nodding with her head towards +the path.<br> +<br> +‘I will soon see who it is,’ said I; and starting up, I +rushed towards the pathway, intending to lay violent hands on any one +I might find lurking in its windings. Before, however, I had reached +its commencement, a man, somewhat above the middle height, advanced +from it into the dingle, in whom I recognised the man in black whom +I had seen in the public-house.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XC<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Buona sera - Rather apprehensive - The steep bank - Lovely virgin - +Hospitality - Tory minister - Custom of the country - Sneering smile +- Wandering Zigan - Gypsies’ cloaks - Certain faculty - Acute +answer - Various ways - Addio - Best Hollands.<br> +<br> +The man in black and myself stood opposite to each other for a minute +or two in silence; I will not say that we confronted each other that +time, for the man in black, after a furtive glance, did not look me +in the face, but kept his eyes fixed apparently on the leaves of a bunch +of ground-nuts which were growing at my feet. At length, looking +around the dingle, he exclaimed, ‘Buona sera, I hope I don’t +intrude.’<br> +<br> +‘You have as much right here,’ said I, ‘as I or my +companion; but you had no right to stand listening to our conversation.’<br> +<br> +‘I was not listening,’ said the man, ‘I was hesitating +whether to advance or retire; and if I heard some of your conversation, +the fault was not mine.’<br> +<br> +‘I do not see why you should have hesitated if your intentions +were good,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘I think the kind of place in which I found myself might excuse +some hesitation,’ said the man in black, looking around; ‘moreover, +from what I had seen of your demeanour at the public-house, I was rather +apprehensive that the reception I might experience at your hands might +be more rough than agreeable.’<br> +<br> +‘And what may have been your motive for coming to this place?’ +said I.<br> +<br> +‘Per far visita a sua signoria, ecco il motivo.’<br> +<br> +‘Why do you speak to me in that gibberish,’ said I; ‘do +you think I understand it?’<br> +<br> +‘It is not Armenian,’ said the man in black; ‘but +it might serve, in a place like this, for the breathing of a little +secret communication, were any common roadster near at hand. It +would not do at Court, it is true, being the language of singing women, +and the like; but we are not at Court - when we are, I can perhaps summon +up a little indifferent Latin, if I have anything private to communicate +to the learned Professor.’<br> +<br> +And at the conclusion of this speech the man in black lifted up his +head, and, for some moments, looked me in the face. The muscles +of his own seemed to be slightly convulsed, and his mouth opened in +a singular manner<br> +<br> +‘I see,’ said I, ‘that for some time you were standing +near me and my companion, in the mean act of listening.’<br> +<br> +‘Not at all,’ said the man in black; ‘I heard from +the steep bank above, that to which I have now alluded, whilst I was +puzzling myself to find the path which leads to your retreat. +I made, indeed, nearly the compass of the whole thicket before I found +it.’<br> +<br> +‘And how did you know that I was here?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘The landlord of the public-house, with whom I had some conversation +concerning you, informed me that he had no doubt I should find you in +this place, to which he gave me instructions not very clear. But, +now I am here, I crave permission to remain a little time, in order +that I may hold some communion with you.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘since you are come, you are welcome; +please to step this way.’<br> +<br> +Thereupon I conducted the man in black to the fireplace, where Belle +was standing, who had risen from her stool on my springing up to go +in quest of the stranger. The man in black looked at her with +evident curiosity, then making her rather a graceful bow, ‘Lovely +virgin,’ said he, stretching out his hand, ‘allow me to +salute your fingers.’<br> +<br> +‘I am not in the habit of shaking hands with strangers,’ +said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘I did not presume to request to shake hands with you,’ +said the man in black, ‘I merely wished to be permitted to salute +with my lips the extremity of your two forefingers.’<br> +<br> +‘I never permit anything of the kind,’ said Belle; ‘ +I do not approve of such unmanly ways, they are only befitting those +who lurk in corners or behind trees, listening to the conversation of +people who would fain be private.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you take me for a listener then?’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘Ay, indeed I do,’ said Belle; ‘the young man may +receive your excuses, and put confidence in them, if he please, but +for my part I neither admit them nor believe them;’ and thereupon +flinging her long hair back, which was hanging over her cheeks, she +seated herself on her stool.<br> +<br> +‘Come, Belle,’ said I, ‘I have bidden the gentleman +welcome, I beseech you, therefore, to make him welcome; he is a stranger, +where we are at home, therefore, even did we wish him away, we are bound +to treat him kindly.’<br> +<br> +‘That’s not English doctrine,’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘I thought the English prided themselves on their hospitality,’ +said I.<br> +<br> +‘They do so,’ said the man in black; ‘they are proud +of showing hospitality to people above them, that is, to those who do +not want it, but of the hospitality which you were now describing, and +which is Arabian, they know nothing. No Englishman will tolerate +another in his house, from whom he does not expect advantage of some +kind, and to those from whom he does he can be civil enough. An +Englishman thinks that, because he is in his own house, he has a right +to be boorish and brutal to any one who is disagreeable to him, as all +those are who are really in want of assistance. Should a hunted +fugitive rush into an Englishman’s house, beseeching protection, +and appealing to the master’s feelings of hospitality, the Englishman +would knock him down in the passage.’<br> +<br> +‘You are too general,’ said I, ‘in your strictures. +Lord -, the unpopular Tory minister, was once chased through the streets +of London by a mob, and, being in danger of his life, took shelter in +the shop of a Whig linen-draper, declaring his own unpopular name, and +appealing to the linen-draper’s feelings of hospitality; whereupon +the linen-draper, utterly forgetful of all party rancour, nobly responded +to the appeal, and telling his wife to conduct his lordship upstairs, +jumped over the counter, with his ell in his hand, and placing himself +with half-a-dozen of his assistants at the door of his boutique, manfully +confronted the mob, telling them that he would allow himself to be torn +to a thousand pieces ere he would permit them to injure a hair of his +lordship’s head: what do you think of that?’<br> +<br> +‘He! he! he!’ tittered the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘I am afraid your own practice is +not very different from that which you have been just now describing; +you sided with the Radical in the public-house against me, as long as +you thought him the most powerful, and then turned against him when +you saw he was cowed. What have you to say to that?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, when one is in Rome, I mean England, one must do as they +do in England; I was merely conforming to the custom of the country, +he! he! but I beg your pardon here, as I did in the public-house. +I made a mistake.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘we will drop the matter, but pray +seat yourself on that stone, and I will sit down on the grass near you.’<br> +<br> +The man in black, after proffering two or three excuses for occupying +what he supposed to be my seat, sat down upon the stone, and I squatted +down, gypsy-fashion, just opposite to him, Belle sitting on her stool +at a slight distance on my right. After a time I addressed him +thus: ‘Am I to reckon this a mere visit of ceremony? should it +prove so, it will be, I believe, the first visit of the kind ever paid +me.’<br> +<br> +‘Will you permit me to ask,’ said the man in black - ‘the +weather is very warm,’ said he, interrupting himself, and taking +off his hat.<br> +<br> +I now observed that he was partly bald, his red hair having died away +from the fore part of his crown - his forehead was high, his eyebrows +scanty, his eyes gray and sly, with a downward tendency, his nose was +slightly aquiline, his mouth rather large - a kind of sneering smile +played continually on his lips, his complexion was somewhat rubicund.<br> +<br> +‘A bad countenance,’ said Belle, in the language of the +roads, observing that my eyes were fixed on his face.<br> +<br> +‘Does not my countenance please you, fair damsel?’ said +the man in black, resuming his hat, and speaking in a peculiarly gentle +voice.<br> +<br> +‘How,’ said I, ‘do you understand the language of +the roads?’<br> +<br> +‘As little as I do Armenian,’ said the man in black; ‘but +I understand look and tone.’<br> +<br> +‘So do I, perhaps,’ retorted Belle; ‘and, to tell +you the truth, I like your tone as little as your face.’<br> +<br> +‘For shame,’ said I; ‘have you forgot what I was saying +just now about the duties of hospitality? You have not yet answered +my question,’ said I, addressing myself to the man, ‘with +respect to your visit.’<br> +<br> +‘Will you permit me to ask who you are?’<br> +<br> +‘Do you see the place where I live?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘I do,’ said the man in black, looking around.<br> +<br> +‘Do you know the name of this place?’<br> +<br> +‘I was told it was Mumpers’ or Gypsies’ Dingle,’ +said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘Good,’ said I; ‘and this forge and tent, what do +they look like?’<br> +<br> +‘Like the forge and tent of a wandering Zigan; I have seen the +like in Italy.’<br> +<br> +‘Good,’ said I; ‘they belong to me.’<br> +<br> +‘Are you, then, a gypsy?’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘What else should I be?’<br> +<br> +‘But you seem to have been acquainted with various individuals +with whom I have likewise had acquaintance; and you have even alluded +to matters, and even words, which have passed between me and them.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you know how gypsies live?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘By hammering old iron, I believe, and telling fortunes.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘there’s my forge, and yonder +is some iron, though not old, and by your own confession I am a soothsayer.’<br> +<br> +‘But how did you come by your knowledge?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh,’ said I, ‘if you want me to reveal the secrets +of my trade, I have, of course, nothing further to say. Go to +the scarlet dyer, and ask him how he dyes cloth.’<br> +<br> +‘Why scarlet?’ said the man in black. ‘Is it +because gypsies blush like scarlet?’<br> +<br> +‘Gypsies never blush,’ said I; ‘but gypsies’ +cloaks are scarlet.’<br> +<br> +‘I should almost take you for a gypsy,’ said the man in +black, ‘but for - ’<br> +<br> +‘For what?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘But for that same lesson in Armenian, and your general knowledge +of languages; as for your manners and appearance I will say nothing,’ +said the man in black, with a titter.<br> +<br> +‘And why should not a gypsy possess a knowledge of languages?’ +said I.<br> +<br> +‘Because the gypsy race is perfectly illiterate,’ said the +man in black; ‘they are possessed, it is true, of a knavish acuteness, +and are particularly noted for giving subtle and evasive answers - and +in your answers, I confess, you remind me of them; but that one of the +race should acquire a learned language like the Armenian, and have a +general knowledge of literature, is a thing che io non credo afatto.’<br> +<br> +‘What do you take me for?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Why,’ said the man in black, ‘I should consider you +to be a philologist, who, for some purpose, has taken up a gypsy life; +but I confess to you that your way of answering questions is far too +acute for a philologist.’<br> +<br> +‘And why should not a philologist be able to answer questions +acutely?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Because the philological race is the most stupid under heaven,’ +said the man in black; ‘they are possessed, it is true, of a certain +faculty for picking up words, and a memory for retaining them; but that +any one of the sect should be able to give a rational answer, to say +nothing of an acute one, on any subject - even though the subject were +philology - is a thing of which I have no idea.’<br> +<br> +‘But you found me giving a lesson in Armenian to this handmaid?’<br> +<br> +‘I believe I did,’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘And you heard me give what you are disposed to call acute answers +to the questions you asked me?’<br> +<br> +‘I believe I did,’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘And would any one but a philologist think of giving a lesson +in Armenian to a handmaid in a dingle?<br> +<br> +‘I should think not,’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘Well, then, don’t you see that it is possible for a philologist +to give not only a rational, but an acute answer?’<br> +<br> +‘I really don’t know,’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘What’s the matter with you?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Merely puzzled,’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘Puzzled?<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘Really puzzled?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes.’<br> +<br> +‘Remain so.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said the man in black, rising, ‘puzzled or +not, I will no longer trespass upon your and this young lady’s +retirement; only allow me, before I go, to apologise for my intrusion.’<br> +<br> +‘No apology is necessary,’ said I; ‘will you please +to take anything before you go? I think this young lady, at my +request, would contrive to make you a cup of tea.’<br> +<br> +‘Tea!’ said the man in black; ‘he! he! I don’t +drink tea; I don’t like it - if, indeed, you had,’ and here +he stopped.<br> +<br> +‘There’s nothing like gin and water, is there?’ said +I, ‘but I am sorry to say I have none.’<br> +<br> +‘Gin and water,’ said the man in black, ‘how do you +know that I am fond of gin and water?’<br> +<br> +‘Did I not see you drinking some at the public-house?’<br> +<br> +‘You did,’ said the man in black, ‘and I remember +that, when I called for some you repeated my words - permit me to ask, +is gin and water an unusual drink in England?’<br> +<br> +‘It is not usually drunk cold, and with a lump of sugar,’ +said I.<br> +<br> +‘And did you know who I was by my calling for it so?’<br> +<br> +‘Gypsies have various ways of obtaining information,’ said +I.<br> +<br> +‘With all your knowledge,’ said the man in black, ‘you +do not appear to have known that I was coming to visit you?’<br> +<br> +‘Gypsies do not pretend to know anything which relates to themselves,’ +said I; ‘but I advise you, if you ever come again, to come openly.’<br> +<br> +‘Have I your permission to come again?’ said the man in +black.<br> +<br> +‘Come when you please; this dingle is as free for you as me.’<br> +<br> +‘I will visit you again,’ said the man in black - ‘till +then, addio.’<br> +<br> +‘Belle,’ said I, after the man in black had departed, ‘we +did not treat that man very hospitably; he left us without having eaten +or drunk at our expense.’<br> +<br> +‘You offered him some tea,’ said Belle, ‘which, as +it is mine, I should have grudged him, for I like him not.’<br> +<br> +‘Our liking or disliking him had nothing to do with the matter, +he was our visitor, and ought not to have been permitted to depart dry; +living as we do in this desert, we ought always to be prepared to administer +to the wants of our visitors. Belle, do you know where to procure +any good Hollands?’<br> +<br> +‘I think I do,’ said Belle, ‘but - ’<br> +<br> +‘I will have no buts. Belle, I expect that with as little +delay as possible you procure, at my expense, the best Hollands you +can find.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XCI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Excursions - Adventurous English - Opaque forests - The greatest patience.<br> +<br> +Time passed on, and Belle and I lived in the dingle; when I say lived, +the reader must not imagine that we were always there. She went +out upon her pursuits, and I went out where inclination led me; but +my excursions were very short ones, and hers occasionally occupied whole +days and nights. If I am asked how we passed the time when we +were together in the dingle, I would answer that we passed the time +very tolerably, all things considered; we conversed together, and when +tired of conversing I would sometimes give Belle a lesson in Armenian; +her progress was not particularly brilliant, but upon the whole satisfactory; +in about a fortnight she had hung up one hundred Haikan numerals upon +the hake of her memory. I found her conversation highly entertaining; +she had seen much of England and Wales, and had been acquainted with +some of the most remarkable characters who travelled the roads at that +period; and let me be permitted to say that many remarkable characters +have travelled the roads of England, of whom fame has never said a word. +I loved to hear her anecdotes of these people; some of whom I found +had occasionally attempted to lay violent hands either upon her person +or effects, and had invariably been humbled by her without the assistance +of either justice or constable. I could clearly see, however, +that she was rather tired of England, and wished for a change of scene; +she was particularly fond of talking of America, to which country her +aspirations chiefly tended. She had heard much of America, which +had excited her imagination; for at that time America was much talked +of, on roads and in homesteads - at least, so said Belle, who had good +opportunities of knowing - and most people allowed that it was a good +country for adventurous English. The people who chiefly spoke +against it, as she informed me, were soldiers disbanded upon pensions, +the sextons of village churches, and excisemen. Belle had a craving +desire to visit that country, and to wander with cart and little animal +amongst its forests; when I would occasionally object that she would +be exposed to danger from strange and perverse customers, she said that +she had not wandered the roads of England so long and alone, to be afraid +of anything which might befall in America; and that she hoped, with +God’s favour, to be able to take her own part, and to give to +perverse customers as good as they might bring. She had a dauntless +heart, that same Belle. Such was the staple of Belle’s conversation. +As for mine, I would endeavour to entertain her with strange dreams +of adventure, in which I figured in opaque forests, strangling wild +beasts, or discovering and plundering the hoards of dragons; and sometimes +I would narrate to her other things far more genuine - how I had tamed +savage mares, wrestled with Satan, and had dealings with ferocious publishers. +Belle had a kind heart, and would weep at the accounts I gave her of +my early wrestlings with the dark Monarch. She would sigh, too, +as I recounted the many slights and degradations I had received at the +hands of ferocious publishers; but she had the curiosity of a woman; +and once, when I talked to her of the triumphs which I had achieved +over unbroken mares, she lifted up her head and questioned me as to +the secret of the virtue which I possessed over the aforesaid animals; +whereupon I sternly reprimanded, and forthwith commanded her to repeat +the Armenian numerals; and, on her demurring, I made use of words, to +escape which she was glad to comply, saying the Armenian numerals from +one to a hundred, which numerals, as a punishment for her curiosity, +I made her repeat three times, loading her with the bitterest reproaches +whenever she committed the slightest error, either in accent or pronunciation, +which reproaches she appeared to bear with the greatest patience. +And now I have given a very fair account of the manner in which Isopel +Berners and myself passed our time in the dingle.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XCII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The landlord - Rather too old - Without a shilling - Reputation - A +fortnight ago - Liquids - The main chance - Respectability - Irrational +beings - Parliament cove - My brewer.<br> +<br> +Amongst other excursions, I went several times to the public-house to +which I introduced the reader in a former chapter. I had experienced +such beneficial effects from the ale I had drunk on that occasion, that +I wished to put its virtue to a frequent test; nor did the ale on subsequent +trials belie the good opinion which I had at first formed of it. +After each visit which I made to the public-house, I found my frame +stronger and my mind more cheerful than they had previously been. +The landlord appeared at all times glad to see me, and insisted that +I should sit within the bar, where, leaving his other guests to be attended +to by a niece of his, who officiated as his housekeeper, he would sit +beside me and talk of matters concerning ‘the ring,’ indulging +himself with a cigar and a glass of sherry, which he told me was his +favourite wine, whilst I drank my ale. ‘I loves the conversation +of all you coves of the ring,’ said he once, ‘which is natural, +seeing as how I have fought in a ring myself. Ah, there is nothing +like the ring; I wish I was not rather too old to go again into it. +I often think I should like to have another rally - one more rally, +and then - but there’s a time for all things - youth will be served, +every dog has his day, and mine has been a fine one - let me be content. +After beating Tom of Hopton, there was not much more to be done in the +way of reputation; I have long sat in my bar the wonder and glory of +this here neighbourhood. I’m content, as far as reputation +goes; I only wish money would come in a little faster; however, the +next main of cocks will bring me in something handsome - comes off next +Wednesday, at -; have ventured ten five-pound notes - shouldn’t +say ventured either - run no risk at all, because why? I knows +my birds.’ About ten days after this harangue I called again, +at about three o’clock one afternoon. The landlord was seated +on a bench by a table in the common room, which was entirely empty; +he was neither smoking nor drinking, but sat with his arms folded, and +his head hanging down over his breast. At the sound of my step +he looked up; ‘Ah,’ said he, ‘I am glad you are come, +I was just thinking about you.’ ‘Thank you,’ +said I; ‘it was very kind of you, especially at a time like this, +when your mind must be full of your good fortune. Allow me to +congratulate you on the sums of money you won by the main of cocks at +-. I hope you brought it all safe home.’ ‘Safe +home!’ said the landlord; ‘I brought myself safe home, and +that was all; came home without a shilling, regularly done, cleaned +out.’ ‘I am sorry for that,’ said I; ‘but +after you had won the money, you ought to have been satisfied, and not +risked it again - how did you lose it? I hope not by the pea and +thimble.’ ‘Pea and thimble,’ said the landlord +- ‘not I; those confounded cocks left me nothing to lose by the +pea and thimble.’ ‘Dear me,’ said I; ‘I +thought that you knew your birds.’ ‘Well, so I did,’ +said the landlord; ‘I knew the birds to be good birds, and so +they proved, and would have won if better birds had not been brought +against them, of which I knew nothing, and so do you see I am done, +regularly done.’ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘don’t +be cast down; there is one thing of which the cocks by their misfortune +cannot deprive you - your reputation; make the most of that, give up +cock-fighting, and be content with the custom of your house, of which +you will always have plenty, as long as you are the wonder and glory +of the neighbourhood.’<br> +<br> +The landlord struck the table before him violently with his fist. +‘Confound my reputation!’ said he. ‘No reputation +that I have will be satisfaction to my brewer for the seventy pounds +I owe him. Reputation won’t pass for the current coin of +this here realm; and let me tell you, that if it ain’t backed +by some of it, it ain’t a bit better than rotten cabbage, as I +have found. Only three weeks since I was, as I told you, the wonder +and glory of the neighbourhood; and people used to come to look at me, +and worship me; but as soon as it began to be whispered about that I +owed money to the brewer, they presently left off all that kind of thing; +and now, during the last three days, since the tale of my misfortune +with the cocks has got wind, almost everybody has left off coming to +the house, and the few who does, merely comes to insult and flout me. +It was only last night that fellow, Hunter, called me an old fool in +my own kitchen here. He wouldn’t have called me a fool a +fortnight ago; ’twas I called him fool then, and last night he +called me old fool; what do you think of that? - the man that beat Tom +of Hopton, to be called, not only a fool, but an old fool; and I hadn’t +heart, with one blow of this here fist into his face, to send his head +ringing against the wall; for when a man’s pocket is low, do you +see, his heart ain’t much higher; but it is of no use talking, +something must be done. I was thinking of you just as you came +in, for you are just the person that can help me.’<br> +<br> +‘If you mean,’ said I, ‘to ask me to lend you the +money which you want, it will be to no purpose, as I have very little +of my own, just enough for my own occasions; it is true, if you desired +it, I would be your intercessor with the person to whom you owe the +money, though I should hardly imagine that anything I could say - ’ +‘You are right there,’ said the landlord; ‘much the +brewer would care for anything you could say on my behalf - your going +would be the very way to do me up entirely. A pretty opinion he +would have of the state of my affairs if I were to send him such a ‘cessor +as you; and as for your lending me money, don’t think I was ever +fool enough to suppose either that you had any, or if you had that you +would be fool enough to lend me any. No, no, the coves of the +ring knows better; I have been in the ring myself, and knows what a +fighting cove is, and though I was fool enough to back those birds, +I was never quite fool enough to lend anybody money. What I am +about to propose is something very different from going to my landlord, +or lending any capital; something which, though it will put money into +my pocket, will likewise put something handsome into your own. +I want to get up a fight in this here neighbourhood, which would be +sure to bring plenty of people to my house, for a week before and after +it takes place; and as people can’t come without drinking, I think +I could, during one fortnight, get off for the brewer all the sour and +unsaleable liquids he now has, which people wouldn’t drink at +any other time, and by that means, do you see, liquidate my debt; then, +by means of betting, making first all right, do you see, I have no doubt +that I could put something handsome into my pocket and yours, for I +should wish you to be the fighting man, as I think I can depend upon +you.’ ‘You really must excuse me,’ said I; ‘I +have no wish to figure as a pugilist; besides, there is such a difference +in our ages; you may be the stronger man of the two, and perhaps the +hardest hitter, but I am in much better condition, am more active on +my legs, so that I am almost sure I should have the advantage, for, +as you very properly observed, “Youth will be served.”’ +‘Oh, I didn’t mean to fight,’ said the landlord; ‘I +think I could beat you if I were to train a little; but in the fight +I propose I looks more to the main chance than anything else. +I question whether half so many people could be brought together if +you were to fight with me as the person I have in view, or whether there +would be half such opportunities for betting, for I am a man, do you +see; the person I wants you to fight with is not a man, but the young +woman you keeps company with.’<br> +<br> +‘The young woman I keep company with,’ said I; ‘pray +what do you mean?’<br> +<br> +‘We will go into the bar, and have something,’ said the +landlord, getting up. ‘My niece is out, and there is no +one in the house, so we can talk the matter over quietly.’ +Thereupon I followed him into the bar, where, having drawn me a jug +of ale, helped himself as usual to a glass of sherry, and lighted a +cigar, he proceeded to explain himself further. ‘What I +wants is to get up a fight between a man and a woman; there never has +yet been such a thing in the ring, and the mere noise of the matter +would bring thousands of people together, quite enough to drink out, +for the thing should be close to my house, all the brewer’s stock +of liquids, both good and bad.’ ‘But,’ said +I, ‘you were the other day boasting of the respectability of your +house; do you think that a fight between a man and a woman close to +your establishment would add to its respectability?’ ‘Confound +the respectability of my house,’ said the landlord; ‘will +the respectability of my house pay the brewer, or keep the roof over +my head? No, no! when respectability won’t keep a man, do +you see, the best thing is to let it go and wander. Only let me +have my own way, and both the brewer, myself, and every one of us, will +be satisfied. And then the betting - what a deal we may make by +the betting - and that we shall have all to ourselves, you, I, and the +young woman; the brewer will have no hand in that. I can manage +to raise ten pounds, and if by flashing that about I don’t manage +to make a hundred, call me horse.’ ‘But suppose,’ +said I, ‘the party should lose, on whom you sport your money, +even as the birds did?’ ‘We must first make all right,’ +said the landlord, ‘as I told you before; the birds were irrational +beings, and therefore couldn’t come to an understanding with the +others, as you and the young woman can. The birds fought fair; +but I intend that you and the young woman should fight cross.’ +‘What do you mean by cross?’ said I. ‘Come, +come,’ said the landlord, ‘don’t attempt to gammon +me; you in the ring, and pretend not to know what fighting cross is! +That won’t do, my fine fellow; but as no one is near us, I will +speak out. I intend that you and the young woman should understand +one another, and agree beforehand which should be beat; and if you take +my advice, you will determine between you that the young woman shall +be beat, as I am sure that the odds will run high upon her, her character +as a fist-woman being spread far and wide, so that all the flats who +think it will be all right will back her, as I myself would, if I thought +it would be a fair thing.’ ‘Then,’ said I, ‘you +would not have us fight fair?’ ‘By no means,’ +said the landlord, ‘because why? - I conceives that a cross is +a certainty to those who are in it, whereas by the fair thing one may +lose all he has.’ ‘But,’ said I, ‘you +said the other day that you liked the fair thing.’ ‘That +was by way of gammon,’ said the landlord; ‘just, do you +see, as a Parliament cove might say, speechifying from a barrel to a +set of flats, whom he means to sell. Come, what do you think of +the plan?’<br> +<br> +‘It is a very ingenious one,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Ain’t it?’ said the landlord. ‘The folks +in this neighbourhood are beginning to call me old fool; but if they +don’t call me something else, when they sees me friends with the +brewer, and money in my pocket, my name is not Catchpole. Come, +drink your ale, and go home to the young gentlewoman.’<br> +<br> +‘I am going,’ said I, rising from my seat, after finishing +the remainder of the ale.<br> +<br> +‘Do you think she’ll have any objection?’ said the +landlord.<br> +<br> +‘To do what?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Why, to fight cross.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, I do,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘But you will do your best to persuade her?’<br> +<br> +‘No, I will not,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Are you fool enough to wish to fight fair?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said I, ‘I am wise enough to wish not to fight +at all.’<br> +<br> +‘And how’s my brewer to be paid?’ said the landlord.<br> +<br> +‘I really don’t know,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘I’ll change my religion,’ said the landlord.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XCIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Another visit - A la Margutte - Clever man - Napoleon’s estimate +- Another statue.<br> +<br> +One evening Belle and myself received another visit from the man in +black. After a little conversation of not much importance, I asked +him whether he would not take some refreshment, assuring him that I +was now in possession of some very excellent Hollands, which, with a +glass, a jug of water, and a lump of sugar, was heartily at his service; +he accepted my offer, and Belle going with a jug to the spring, from +which she was in the habit of procuring water for tea, speedily returned +with it full of the clear, delicious water of which I have already spoken. +Having placed the jug by the side of the man in black, she brought him +a glass and spoon, and a tea-cup, the latter containing various lumps +of snowy-white sugar: in the meantime I had produced a bottle of the +stronger liquid. The man in black helped himself to some water, +and likewise to some Hollands, the proportion of water being about two-thirds; +then adding a lump of sugar, he stirred the whole up, tasted it, and +said that it was good.<br> +<br> +‘This is one of the good things of life,’ he added, after +a short pause.<br> +<br> +‘What are the others?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘There is Malvoisia sack,’ said the man in black, ‘and +partridge, and beccafico.’<br> +<br> +‘And what do you say to high mass?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘High mass!’ said the man in black; ‘however,’ +he continued, after a pause, ‘I will be frank with you; I came +to be so; I may have heard high mass on a time, and said it too; but +as for any predilection for it, I assure you I have no more than for +a long High Church sermon.’<br> +<br> +‘You speak a la Margutte,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Margutte!’ said the man in black, musingly, ‘Margutte!’<br> +<br> +‘You have read Pulci, I suppose?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Yes, yes,’ said the man in black, laughing; ‘I remember.’<br> +<br> +‘He might be rendered into English,’ said I, ‘something +in this style:<br> +<br> +<br> +‘To which Margutte answered with a sneer,<br> +I like the blue no better than the black,<br> +My faith consists alone in savoury cheer,<br> +In roasted capons, and in potent sack;<br> +But above all, in famous gin and clear,<br> +Which often lays the Briton on his back;<br> +With lump of sugar, and with lymph from well,<br> +I drink it, and defy the fiends of hell.’<br> +<br> +<br> +‘He! he! he!’ said the man in black; ‘that is more +than Mezzofante could have done for a stanza of Byron.’<br> +<br> +‘A clever man,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Who?’ said the man in black.<br> +<br> +‘Mezzofante di Bologna.’<br> +<br> +‘He! he! he!’ said the man in black; ‘now I know that +you are not a gypsy, at least a soothsayer; no soothsayer would have +said that - ’<br> +<br> +‘Why,’ said I, ‘does he not understand five-and-twenty +tongues?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh yes,’ said the man in black; ‘and five-and-twenty +added to them; but, he! he! he! it was principally from him, who is +certainly the greatest of Philologists, that I formed my opinion of +the sect.’<br> +<br> +‘You ought to speak of him with more respect,’ said I; ‘I +have heard say that he has done good service to your See.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh yes,’ said the man in black; ‘he has done good +service to our See, that is, in his way; when the neophytes of the Propaganda +are to be examined in the several tongues in which they are destined +to preach, he is appointed to question them, the questions being first +written down for him, or else, he! he! he! - Of course you know Napoleon’s +estimate of Mezzofante; he sent for the linguist from motives of curiosity, +and after some discourse with him, told him that he might depart; then +turning to some of his generals he observed, “Nous avons eu ici +un exemple qu’un homme peut avoir beaucoup de paroles avec bien +pen d’esprit.”’<br> +<br> +‘You are ungrateful to him,’ said I; ‘well, perhaps, +when he is dead and gone you will do him justice.’<br> +<br> +‘True,’ said the man in black; ‘when he is dead and +gone, we intend to erect him a statue of wood, on the left-hand side +of the door of the Vatican library.’<br> +<br> +‘Of wood?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘He was the son of a carpenter, you know,’ said the man +in black; ‘the figure will be of wood for no other reason, I assure +you; he! he!’<br> +<br> +‘You should place another statue on the right.’<br> +<br> +‘Perhaps we shall,’ said the man in black; ‘but we +know of no one amongst the philologists of Italy, nor, indeed, of the +other countries inhabited by the faithful, worthy to sit parallel in +effigy with our illustrissimo; when, indeed, we have conquered these +regions of the perfidious by bringing the inhabitants thereof to the +true faith, I have no doubt that we shall be able to select one worthy +to bear him company - one whose statue shall be placed on the right +hand of the library, in testimony of our joy at his conversion; for, +as you know, “There is more joy,” etc.’<br> +<br> +‘Wood?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘I hope not,’ said the man in black; ‘no, if I be +consulted as to the material for the statue, I should strongly recommend +bronze.’<br> +<br> +And when the man in black had said this, he emptied his second tumbler +of its contents, and prepared himself another.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XCIV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Prerogative - Feeling of gratitude - A long history - Alliterative style +- Advantageous specimen - Jesuit benefice - Not sufficient - Queen Stork’s +tragedy - Good sense - Grandeur and gentility - Ironmonger’s daughter +- Clan Mac-Sycophant - Lickspittles - A curiosity - Newspaper editors +- Charles the Simple - High-flying ditty - Dissenters - Lower classes +- Priestley’s house - Saxon ancestors - Austin - Renovating glass +- Money - Quite original.<br> +<br> +‘So you hope to bring these regions again beneath the banner of +the Roman See?’ said I, after the man in black had prepared the +beverage, and tasted it.<br> +<br> +‘Hope!’ said the man in black; ‘how can we fail? +Is not the Church of these regions going to lose its prerogative?’<br> +<br> +‘Its prerogative?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes; those who should be the guardians of the religion of England +are about to grant Papists emancipation, and to remove the disabilities +from Dissenters, which will allow the Holy Father to play his own game +in England.’<br> +<br> +On my inquiring how the Holy Father intended to play his game, the man +in black gave me to understand that he intended for the present to cover +the land with temples, in which the religion of Protestants would be +continually scoffed at and reviled.<br> +<br> +On my observing that such behaviour would savour strongly of ingratitude, +the man in black gave me to understand that if I entertained the idea +that the See of Rome was ever influenced in its actions by any feeling +of gratitude I was much mistaken, assuring me that if the See of Rome +in any encounter should chance to be disarmed, and its adversary, from +a feeling of magnanimity, should restore the sword which had been knocked +out of its hand, the See of Rome always endeavoured on the first opportunity +to plunge the said sword into its adversary’s bosom; conduct which +the man in black seemed to think was very wise, and which he assured +me had already enabled it to get rid of a great many troublesome adversaries, +and would, he had no doubt, enable it to get rid of a great many more.<br> +<br> +On my attempting to argue against the propriety of such behaviour, the +man in black cut the matter short by saying that if one party was a +fool he saw no reason why the other should imitate it in its folly.<br> +<br> +After musing a little while, I told him that emancipation had not yet +passed through the legislature, and that perhaps it never would; reminding +him that there was often many a slip between the cup and the lip; to +which observation the man in black agreed, assuring me, however, that +there was no doubt that emancipation would be carried, inasmuch as there +was a very loud cry at present in the land - a cry of ‘tolerance,’ +which had almost frightened the Government out of its wits; who, to +get rid of the cry, was going to grant all that was asked in the way +of toleration, instead of telling the people to ‘hold their nonsense,’ +and cutting them down provided they continued bawling longer.<br> +<br> +I questioned the man in black with respect to the origin of this cry; +but he said, to trace it to its origin would require a long history; +that, at any rate, such a cry was in existence, the chief raisers of +it being certain of the nobility, called Whigs, who hoped by means of +it to get into power, and to turn out certain ancient adversaries of +theirs called Tories, who were for letting things remain <i>in statu +quo</i>; that these Whigs were backed by a party amongst the people +called Radicals, a specimen of whom I had seen in the public-house; +a set of fellows who were always in the habit of bawling against those +in place; ‘and so,’ he added, ‘by means of these parties, +and the hubbub which the Papists and other smaller sects are making, +a general emancipation will be carried, and the Church of England humbled, +which is the principal thing which the See of Rome cares for.’<br> +<br> +On my telling the man in black that I believed that, even among the +high dignitaries of the English Church, there were many who wished to +grant perfect freedom to religions of all descriptions, he said he was +aware that such was the fact, and that such a wish was anything but +wise, inasmuch as, if they had any regard for the religion they professed, +they ought to stand by it through thick and thin, proclaiming it to +be the only true one, and denouncing all others, in an alliterative +style, as dangerous and damnable; whereas, by their present conduct, +they were bringing their religion into contempt with the people at large, +who would never continue long attached to a Church the ministers of +which did not stand up for it, and likewise cause their own brethren, +who had a clearer notion of things, to be ashamed of belonging to it. +‘I speak advisedly,’ said he, in continuation; ‘there +is one Platitude.’<br> +<br> +‘And I hope there is only one,’ said I; ‘you surely +would not adduce the likes and dislikes of that poor silly fellow as +the criterions of the opinions of any party?’<br> +<br> +‘You know him,’ said the man in black, ‘nay, I heard +you mention him in the public-house; the fellow is not very wise, I +admit, but he has sense enough to know that, unless a Church can make +people hold their tongues when it thinks fit, it is scarcely deserving +the name of a Church; no, I think that the fellow is not such a very +bad stick, and that upon the whole he is, or rather was, an advantageous +specimen of the High Church English clergy, who, for the most part, +so far from troubling their heads about persecuting people, only think +of securing their tithes, eating their heavy dinners, puffing out their +cheeks with importance on country justice benches, and occasionally +exhibiting their conceited wives, hoyden daughters, and gawky sons at +country balls, whereas Platitude - ’<br> +<br> +‘Stop,’ said I; ‘you said in the public-house that +the Church of England was a persecuting Church, and here in the dingle +you have confessed that one section of it is willing to grant perfect +freedom to the exercise of all religions, and the other only thinks +of leading an easy life.’<br> +<br> +‘Saying a thing in the public-house is a widely different thing +from saying it in the dingle,’ said the man in black; ‘had +the Church of England been a persecuting Church, it would not stand +in the position in which it stands at present; it might, with its opportunities, +have spread itself over the greater part of the world. I was about +to observe that, instead of practising the indolent habits of his High +Church brethren, Platitude would be working for his money, preaching +the proper use of fire and faggot, or rather of the halter and the whipping-post, +encouraging mobs to attack the houses of Dissenters, employing spies +to collect the scandal of neighbourhoods, in order that he might use +it for sacerdotal purposes, and, in fact, endeavouring to turn an English +parish into something like a Jesuit benefice in the south of France.’<br> +<br> +‘He tried that game,’ said I, ‘and the parish said +“Pooh, pooh,” and, for the most part, went over to the Dissenters.’<br> +<br> +‘Very true,’ said the man in black, taking a sip at his +glass, ‘but why were the Dissenters allowed to preach? why were +they not beaten on the lips till they spat out blood, with a dislodged +tooth or two? Why, but because the authority of the Church of +England has, by its own fault, become so circumscribed that Mr. Platitude +was not able to send a host of beadles and sbirri to their chapel to +bring them to reason, on which account Mr. Platitude is very properly +ashamed of his Church, and is thinking of uniting himself with one which +possesses more vigour and authority.’<br> +<br> +‘It may have vigour and authority,’ said I, ‘in foreign +lands, but in these kingdoms the day for practising its atrocities is +gone by. It is at present almost below contempt, and is obliged +to sue for grace <i>in forma pauperis</i>.’<br> +<br> +‘Very true,’ said the man in black; ‘but let it once +obtain emancipation, and it will cast its slough, put on its fine clothes, +and make converts by thousands. ‘What a fine Church!’ +they’ll say; ‘with what authority it speaks! no doubts, +no hesitation, no sticking at trifles. What a contrast to the +sleepy English Church! They’ll go over to it by millions, +till it preponderates here over every other, when it will of course +be voted the dominant one; and then - and then - ’ and here the +man in black drank a considerable quantity of gin and water.<br> +<br> +‘What then?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘What then?’ said the man in black, ‘why she will +be true to herself. Let Dissenters, whether they be Church of +England, as perhaps they may still call themselves, Methodist, or Presbyterian, +presume to grumble, and there shall be bruising of lips in pulpits, +tying up to whipping-posts, cutting off ears and noses - he! he! the +farce of King Log has been acted long enough; the time for Queen Stork’s +tragedy is drawing nigh’; and the man in black sipped his gin +and water in a very exulting manner.<br> +<br> +‘And this is the Church which, according to your assertion in +the public-house, never persecutes?’<br> +<br> +‘I have already given you an answer,’ said the man in black. +‘With respect to the matter of the public-house, it is one of +the happy privileges of those who belong to my Church to deny in the +public-house what they admit in the dingle; we have high warranty for +such double speaking. Did not the foundation stone of our Church, +Saint Peter, deny in the public-house what he had previously professed +in the valley?’<br> +<br> +‘And do you think,’ said I, ‘that the people of England, +who have shown aversion to anything in the shape of intolerance, will +permit such barbarities as you have described?’<br> +<br> +‘Let them become Papists,’ said the man in black; ‘only +let the majority become Papists, and you will see.’<br> +<br> +‘They will never become so,’ said I; ‘the good sense +of the people of England will never permit them to commit such an absurdity.’<br> +<br> +‘The good sense of the people of England!’ said the man +in black, filling himself another glass.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘the good sense of not only the upper, +but the middle and lower classes.’<br> +<br> +‘And of what description of people are the upper class?’ +said the man in black, putting a lump of sugar into his gin and water.<br> +<br> +‘Very fine people,’ said I, ‘monstrously fine people; +so, at least, they are generally believed to be.’<br> +<br> +‘He! he!’ said the man in black; ‘only those think +them so who don’t know them. The male part of the upper +class are in youth a set of heartless profligates; in old age, a parcel +of poor, shaking, nervous paillards. The female part, worthy to +be the sisters and wives of such wretches - unmarried, full of cold +vice, kept under by vanity and ambition, but which, after marriage, +they seek not to restrain; in old age, abandoned to vapours and horrors; +do you think that such beings will afford any obstacle to the progress +of the Church in these regions, as soon as her movements are unfettered?’<br> +<br> +‘I cannot give an opinion; I know nothing of them, except from +a distance. But what think you of the middle classes?’<br> +<br> +‘Their chief characteristic,’ said the man in black, ‘is +a rage for grandeur and gentility; and that same rage makes us quite +sure of them in the long run. Everything that’s lofty meets +their unqualified approbation; whilst everything humble, or, as they +call it, “low,” is scouted by them. They begin to +have a vague idea that the religion which they have hitherto professed +is low; at any rate, that it is not the religion of the mighty ones +of the earth, of the great kings and emperors whose shoes they have +a vast inclination to kiss, nor was used by the grand personages of +whom they have read in their novels and romances, their Ivanhoes, their +Marmions, and their Ladies of the Lake.’<br> +<br> +‘Do you think that the writings of Scott have had any influence +in modifying their religious opinions?’<br> +<br> +‘Most certainly I do,’ said the man in black. ‘The +writings of that man have made them greater fools than they were before. +All their conversation now is about gallant knights, princesses, and +cavaliers, with which his pages are stuffed - all of whom were Papists, +or very High Church, which is nearly the same thing; and they are beginning +to think that the religion of such nice sweet-scented gentry must be +something very superfine. Why, I know at Birmingham the daughter +of an ironmonger, who screeches to the piano the Lady of the Lake’s +hymn to the Virgin Mary, always weeps when Mary Queen of Scots is mentioned, +and fasts on the anniversary of the death of that very wise martyr, +Charles the First. Why, I would engage to convert such an idiot +to popery in a week, were it worth my trouble. O Cavaliere Gualtiero, +avete fatto molto in favore della Santa Sede!’<br> +<br> +‘If he has,’ said I, ‘he has done it unwittingly; +I never heard before that he was a favourer of the popish delusion.’<br> +<br> +‘Only in theory,’ said the man in black. ‘Trust +any of the clan Mac-Sycophant for interfering openly and boldly in favour +of any cause on which the sun does not shine benignantly. Popery +is at present, as you say, suing for grace in these regions <i>in forma +pauperis</i>; but let royalty once take it up, let old gouty George +once patronise it, and I would consent to drink puddle-water if, the +very next time the canny Scot was admitted to the royal symposium, he +did not say, “By my faith, yere Majesty, I have always thought, +at the bottom of my heart, that popery, as ill-scrapit tongues ca’ +it, was a very grand religion; I shall be proud to follow your Majesty’s +example in adopting it.”’<br> +<br> +‘I doubt not,’ said I, ‘that both gouty George and +his devoted servant will be mouldering in their tombs long before Royalty +in England thinks about adopting popery.’<br> +<br> +‘We can wait,’ said the man in black; ‘in these days +of rampant gentility, there will be no want of kings nor of Scots about +them.’<br> +<br> +‘But not Walters,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Our work has been already tolerably well done by one,’ +said the man in black; ‘but if we wanted literature, we should +never lack in these regions hosts of literary men of some kind or other +to eulogise us, provided our religion were in the fashion, and our popish +nobles chose - and they always do our bidding - to admit the canaille +to their tables - their kitchen tables. As for literature in general,’ +said he, ‘the Santa Sede is not particularly partial to it, it +may be employed both ways. In Italy, in particular, it has discovered +that literary men are not always disposed to be lickspittles.’<br> +<br> +‘For example, Dante,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said the man in black, ‘a dangerous personage; +that poem of his cuts both ways; and then there was Pulci, that <i>Morgante</i> +of his cuts both ways, or rather one way, and that sheer against us; +and then there was Aretino, who dealt so hard with the <i>poveri frati</i>; +all writers, at least Italian ones, are not lickspittles. And +then in Spain, - ’tis true, Lope de Vega and Calderon were most +inordinate lickspittles; the <i>Principe Constante</i> of the last is +a curiosity in its way; and then the <i>Mary Stuart</i> of Lope; I think +I shall recommend the perusal of that work to the Birmingham ironmonger’s +daughter - she has been lately thinking of adding “a slight knowledge +of the magneeficent language of the Peninsula” to the rest of +her accomplishments, he! he! he! But then there was Cervantes, +starving, but straight; he deals us some hard knocks in that second +part of his <i>Quixote</i>. Then there were some of the writers +of the picaresque novels. No, all literary men are not lickspittles, +whether in Italy or Spain, or, indeed, upon the Continent; it is only +in England that all - ’<br> +<br> +‘Come,’ said I, ‘Mind what you are about to say of +English literary men.’<br> +<br> +‘Why should I mind?’ said the man in black, ‘there +are no literary men here. I have heard of literary men living +in garrets, but not in dingles, whatever philologists may do; I may, +therefore, speak out freely. It is only in England that literary +men are invariably lickspittles; on which account, perhaps, they are +so despised, even by those who benefit by their dirty services. +Look at your fashionable novel-writers, he! he! - and, above all, at +your newspaper editors, ho! ho!’<br> +<br> +‘You will, of course, except the editors of the - from your censure +of the last class?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Them!’ said the man in black; ‘why, they might serve +as models in the dirty trade to all the rest who practise it. +See how they bepraise their patrons, the grand Whig nobility, who hope, +by raising the cry of liberalism and by putting themselves at the head +of the populace, to come into power shortly. I don’t wish +to be hard, at present, upon those Whigs,’ he continued, ‘for +they are playing our game; but a time will come when, not wanting them, +we will kick them to a considerable distance: and then, when toleration +is no longer the cry, and the Whigs are no longer backed by the populace, +see whether the editors of the - will stand by them; they will prove +themselves as expert lickspittles of despotism as of liberalism. +Don’t think they will always bespatter the Tories and Austria.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘I am sorry to find that you entertain +so low an opinion of the spirit of English literary men; we will now +return, if you please, to the subject of the middle classes; I think +your strictures upon them in general are rather too sweeping - they +are not altogether the foolish people which you have described. +Look, for example, at that very powerful and numerous body the Dissenters, +the descendants of those sturdy Patriots who hurled Charles the Simple +from his throne.’<br> +<br> +‘There are some sturdy fellows amongst them, I do not deny,’ +said the man in black, ‘especially amongst the preachers, clever +withal - two or three of that class nearly drove Mr. Platitude mad, +as perhaps you are aware, but they are not very numerous; and the old +sturdy sort of preachers are fast dropping off, and, as we observe with +pleasure, are generally succeeded by frothy coxcombs, whom it would +not be very difficult to gain over. But what we most rely upon +as an instrument to bring the Dissenters over to us is the mania for +gentility, which amongst them has of late become as great, and more +ridiculous than amongst the middle classes belonging to the Church of +England. All the plain and simple fashions of their forefathers +they are either about to abandon, or have already done so. Look +at the most part of their chapels - no longer modest brick edifices, +situated in quiet and retired streets, but lunatic-looking erections, +in what the simpletons call the modern Gothic taste, of Portland stone, +with a cross upon the top, and the site generally the most conspicuous +that can be found. And look at the manner in which they educate +their children - I mean those that are wealthy. They do not even +wish them to be Dissenters - “the sweet dears shall enjoy the +advantages of good society, of which their parents were debarred.” +So the girls are sent to tip-top boarding-schools, where amongst other +trash they read <i>Rokeby</i>, and are taught to sing snatches from +that high-flying ditty, the “Cavalier” -<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Would you match the base Skippon, and Massey, and Brown,<br> +With the barons of England, who fight for the crown? -<br> +<br> +<br> +he! he! their own names. Whilst the lads are sent to those hotbeds +of pride and folly - colleges, whence they return with a greater contempt +for everything “low,” and especially for their own pedigree, +than they went with. I tell you, friend, the children of Dissenters, +if not their parents, are going over to the Church, as you call it, +and the Church is going over to Rome.’<br> +<br> +‘I do not see the justice of that latter assertion at all,’ +said I; ‘some of the Dissenters’ children may be coming +over to the Church of England, and yet the Church of England be very +far from going over to Rome.’<br> +<br> +‘In the high road for it, I assure you,’ said the man in +black; ‘part of it is going to abandon, the rest to lose their +prerogative, and when a Church no longer retains its prerogative, it +speedily loses its own respect, and that of others.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘if the higher classes have all the +vices and follies which you represent, on which point I can say nothing, +as I have never mixed with them; and even supposing the middle classes +are the foolish beings you would fain make them, and which I do not +believe them as a body to be, you would still find some resistance amongst +the lower classes: I have a considerable respect for their good sense +and independence of character; but pray let me hear your opinion of +them.’<br> +<br> +‘As for the lower classes,’ said the man in black, ‘I +believe them to be the most brutal wretches in the world, the most addicted +to foul feeding, foul language, and foul vices of every kind; wretches +who have neither love for country, religion, nor anything save their +own vile selves. You surely do not think that they would oppose +a change of religion! why, there is not one of them but would hurrah +for the Pope, or Mahomet, for the sake of a hearty gorge and a drunken +bout, like those which they are treated with at election contests.’<br> +<br> +‘Has your church any followers amongst them?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Wherever there happens to be a Romish family of considerable +possessions,’ said the man in black, ‘our church is sure +to have followers of the lower class, who have come over in the hope +of getting something in the shape of dole or donation. As, however, +the Romish is not yet the dominant religion, and the clergy of the English +establishment have some patronage to bestow, the churches are not quite +deserted by the lower classes; yet, were the Romish to become the established +religion, they would, to a certainty, all go over to it; you can scarcely +imagine what a self-interested set they are - for example, the landlord +of that public-house in which I first met you, having lost a sum of +money upon a cock-fight, and his affairs in consequence being in a bad +condition, is on the eve of coming over to us, in the hope that two +old Popish females of property, whom I confess, will advance a sum of +money to set him up again in the world.’<br> +<br> +‘And what could have put such an idea into the poor fellow’s +head?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Oh, he and I have had some conversation upon the state of his +affairs,’ said the man in black; ‘I think he might make +a rather useful convert in these parts, provided things take a certain +turn, as they doubtless will. It is no bad thing to have a fighting +fellow, who keeps a public-house, belonging to one’s religion. +He has been occasionally employed as a bully at elections by the Tory +party, and he may serve us in the same capacity. The fellow comes +of a good stock; I heard him say that his father headed the High Church +mob who sacked and burnt Priestley’s house at Birmingham, towards +the end of the last century.’<br> +<br> +‘A disgraceful affair,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘What do you mean by a disgraceful affair?’ said the man +in black. ‘I assure you that nothing has occurred for the +last fifty years which has given the High Church party so much credit +in the eyes of Rome as that, - we did not imagine that the fellows had +so much energy. Had they followed up that affair by twenty others +of a similar kind, they would by this time have had everything in their +own power; but they did not, and, as a necessary consequence, they are +reduced to almost nothing.’<br> +<br> +‘I suppose,’ said I, ‘that your Church would have +acted very differently in its place.’<br> +<br> +‘It has always done so,’ said the man in black, coolly sipping. +‘Our Church has always armed the brute population against the +genius and intellect of a country, provided that same intellect and +genius were not willing to become its instruments and eulogists; and +provided we once obtain a firm hold here again, we would not fail to +do so. We would occasionally stuff the beastly rabble with horseflesh +and bitter ale, and then halloo them on against all those who were obnoxious +to us.’<br> +<br> +‘Horseflesh and bitter ale!’ I replied.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said the man in black; ‘horseflesh and bitter +ale - the favourite delicacies of their Saxon ancestors, who were always +ready to do our bidding after a liberal allowance of such cheer. +There is a tradition in our Church, that before the Northumbrian rabble, +at the instigation of Austin, attacked and massacred the presbyterian +monks of Bangor, they had been allowed a good gorge of horseflesh and +bitter ale. He! he! he!’ continued the man in black, ‘what +a fine spectacle to see such a mob, headed by a fellow like our friend +the landlord, sack the house of another Priestley!’<br> +<br> +‘Then you don’t deny that we have had a Priestley,’ +said I, ‘and admit the possibility of our having another? +You were lately observing that all English literary men were sycophants?’<br> +<br> +‘Lickspittles,’ said the man in black; ‘yes, I admit +that you have had a Priestley, but he was a Dissenter of the old class; +you have had him, and perhaps may have another.’<br> +<br> +‘Perhaps we may,’ said I. ‘But with respect +to the lower classes, have you mixed much with them?’<br> +<br> +‘I have mixed with all classes,’ said the man in black, +‘and with the lower not less than the upper and middle; they are +much as I have described them; and of the three, the lower are the worst. +I never knew one of them that possessed the slightest principle, no, +not -. It is true, there was one fellow whom I once met, who - +; but it is a long story, and the affair happened abroad. - I ought +to know something of the English people,’ he continued, after +a moment’s pause; ‘I have been many years amongst them, +labouring in the cause of the Church.’<br> +<br> +‘Your See must have had great confidence in your powers when it +selected you to labour for it in these parts,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘They chose me,’ said the man in black, ‘principally +because, being of British extraction and education, I could speak the +English language and bear a glass of something strong. It is the +opinion of my See that it would hardly do to send a missionary into +a country like this who is not well versed in English - a country where, +they think, so far from understanding any language besides his own, +scarcely one individual in ten speaks his own intelligibly; or an ascetic +person where, as they say, high and low, male and female, are, at some +period of their lives, fond of a renovating glass, as it is styled - +in other words, of tippling.’<br> +<br> +‘Your See appears to entertain a very strange opinion of the English,’ +said I.<br> +<br> +‘Not altogether an unjust one,’ said the man in black, lifting +the glass to his mouth.<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘it is certainly very kind on its +part to wish to bring back such a set of beings beneath its wing.’<br> +<br> +‘Why, as to the kindness of my See,’ said the man in black, +‘I have not much to say; my See has generally in what it does +a tolerably good motive; these heretics possess in plenty what my See +has a great hankering for, and can turn to a good account - money!’<br> +<br> +‘The Founder of the Christian religion cared nothing for money,’ +said I.<br> +<br> +‘What have we to do with what the Founder of the Christian religion +cared for?’ said the man in black. ‘How could our +temples be built and our priests supported without money? But +you are unwise to reproach us with a desire of obtaining money; you +forget that your own Church, if the Church of England be your own Church, +as I suppose it is from the willingness which you displayed in the public-house +to fight for it, is equally avaricious; look at your greedy Bishops +and your corpulent Rectors - do they imitate Christ in His disregard +for money? You might as well tell me that they imitate Christ +in His meekness and humility.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘whatever their faults may be, you +can’t say that they go to Rome for money.’<br> +<br> +The man in black made no direct answer, but appeared by the motion of +his lips to be repeating something to himself.<br> +<br> +‘I see your glass is again empty,’ said I; ‘perhaps +you will replenish it.’<br> +<br> +The man in black arose from his seat, adjusted his habiliments, which +were rather in disorder, and placed upon his head his hat, which he +had laid aside; then, looking at me, who was still lying on the ground, +he said - ‘I might, perhaps, take another glass, though I believe +I have had quite as much as I can well bear; but I do not wish to hear +you utter anything more this evening, after that last observation of +yours - it is quite original; I will meditate upon it on my pillow this +night, after having said an ave and a pater - go to Rome for money!’ +He then made Belle a low bow, slightly motioned to me with his hand +as if bidding farewell, and then left the dingle with rather uneven +steps.<br> +<br> +‘Go to Rome for money,’ I heard him say as he ascended the +winding path, ‘he! he! he! Go to Rome for money, ho! ho! +ho!’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XCV<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Wooded retreat - Fresh shoes - Wood fire - Ash, when green - Queen of +China - Cleverest people - Declensions - Armenian - Thunder - Deep olive +- What do you mean? - Koul Adonai - The thick bushes - Wood pigeon - +Old Göthe.<br> +<br> +Nearly three days elapsed without anything of particular moment occurring. +Belle drove the little cart containing her merchandise about the neighbourhood, +returning to the dingle towards the evening. As for myself, I +kept within my wooded retreat, working during the periods of her absence +leisurely at my forge. Having observed that the quadruped which +my companion drove was as much in need of shoes as my own had been some +time previously, I had determined to provide it with a set, and during +the aforesaid periods occupied myself in preparing them. As I +was employed three mornings and afternoons about them, I am sure that +the reader will agree that I worked leisurely, or rather, lazily. +On the third day Belle arrived somewhat later than usual; I was lying +on my back at the bottom of the dingle, employed in tossing up the shoes +which I had produced, and catching them as they fell - some being always +in the air mounting or descending, somewhat after the fashion of the +waters of a fountain.<br> +<br> +‘Why have you been absent so long?’ said I to Belle; ‘it +must be long past four by the day.’<br> +<br> +‘I have been almost killed by the heat,’ said Belle; ‘I +was never out in a more sultry day - the poor donkey, too, could scarcely +move along.’<br> +<br> +‘He shall have fresh shoes,’ said I, continuing my exercise; +‘here they are quite ready; to-morrow I will tack them on.’<br> +<br> +‘And why are you playing with them in that manner?’ said +Belle.<br> +<br> +‘Partly in triumph at having made them, and partly to show that +I can do something besides making them; it is not every one who, after +having made a set of horse-shoes, can keep them going up and down in +the air, without letting one fall - ’<br> +<br> +‘One has now fallen on your chin,’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘And another on my cheek,’ said I, getting up; ‘it +is time to discontinue the game, for the last shoe drew blood.’<br> +<br> +Belle went to her own little encampment; and as for myself, after having +flung the donkey’s shoes into my tent, I put some fresh wood on +the fire, which was nearly out, and hung the kettle over it. I +then issued forth from the dingle, and strolled round the wood that +surrounded it; for a long time I was busied in meditation, looking at +the ground, striking with my foot, half unconsciously, the tufts of +grass and thistles that I met in my way. After some time, I lifted +up my eyes to the sky, at first vacantly, and then with more attention, +turning my head in all directions for a minute or two; after which I +returned to the dingle. Isopel was seated near the fire, over +which the kettle was now hung; she had changed her dress - no signs +of the dust and fatigue of her late excursion remained; she had just +added to the fire a small billet of wood, two or three of which I had +left beside it; the fire cracked, and a sweet odour filled the dingle.<br> +<br> +‘I am fond of sitting by a wood fire,’ said Belle, ‘when +abroad, whether it be hot or cold; I love to see the flames dart out +of the wood; but what kind is this, and where did you get it?’<br> +<br> +‘It is ash,’ said I, ‘green ash. Somewhat less +than a week ago, whilst I was wandering along the road by the side of +a wood, I came to a place where some peasants were engaged in cutting +up and clearing away a confused mass of fallen timber: a mighty aged +oak had given way the night before, and in its fall had shivered some +smaller trees; the upper part of the oak, and the fragments of the rest, +lay across the road. I purchased, for a trifle, a bundle or two, +and the wood on the fire is part of it - ash, green ash.’<br> +<br> +‘That makes good the old rhyme,’ said Belle, ‘which +I have heard sung by the old women in the great house:-<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Ash, when green,<br> +Is fire for a queen.’<br> +<br> +<br> +‘And on fairer form of queen ash fire never shone,’ said +I, ‘than on thine, O beauteous queen of the dingle.’<br> +<br> +‘I am half disposed to be angry with you, young man,’ said +Belle.<br> +<br> +‘And why not entirely?’ said I.<br> +<br> +Belle made no reply.<br> +<br> +‘Shall I tell you?’ I demanded. ‘You had no +objection to the first part of the speech, but you did not like being +called queen of the dingle. Well, if I had the power, I would +make you queen of something better than the dingle - Queen of China. +Come, let us have tea.’<br> +<br> +‘Something less would content me,’ said Belle, sighing, +as she rose to prepare our evening meal.<br> +<br> +So we took tea together, Belle and I. ‘How delicious tea +is after a hot summer’s day and a long walk,’ said she.<br> +<br> +‘I daresay it is most refreshing then,’ said I; ‘but +I have heard people say that they most enjoy it on a cold winter’s +night, when the kettle is hissing on the fire, and their children playing +on the hearth.’<br> +<br> +Belle sighed. ‘Where does tea come from?’ she presently +demanded.<br> +<br> +‘From China,’ said I; ‘I just now mentioned it, and +the mention of it put me in mind of tea.’<br> +<br> +‘What kind of country is China?’<br> +<br> +‘I know very little about it; all I know is, that it is a very +large country far to the East, but scarcely large enough to contain +its inhabitants, who are so numerous, that though China does not cover +one-ninth part of the world, its inhabitants amount to one-third of +the population of the world.’<br> +<br> +‘And do they talk as we do?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh no! I know nothing of their language; but I have heard +that it is quite different from all others, and so difficult that none +but the cleverest people amongst foreigners can master it, on which +account, perhaps, only the French pretend to know anything about it.’<br> +<br> +‘Are the French so very clever, then?’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘They say there are no people like them, at least in Europe. +But talking of Chinese reminds me that I have not for some time past +given you a lesson in Armenian. The word for tea in Armenian is +- by the bye what is the Armenian word for tea?’<br> +<br> +‘That’s your affair, not mine,’ said Belle; ‘it +seems hard that the master should ask the scholar.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘whatever the word may be in Armenian, +it is a noun; and as we have never yet declined an Armenian noun together, +we may as well take this opportunity of declining one. Belle, +there are ten declensions in Armenian!<br> +<br> +‘What’s a declension?’<br> +<br> +‘The way of declining a noun.’<br> +<br> +‘Then, in the civilest way imaginable, I decline the noun. +Is that a declension?’<br> +<br> +‘You should never play on words; to do so is low, vulgar, smelling +of the pothouse, the workhouse. Belle, I insist on your declining +an Armenian noun.’<br> +<br> +‘I have done so already,’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘If you go on in this way,’ said I, ‘I shall decline +taking any more tea with you. Will you decline an Armenian noun?’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t like the language,’ said Belle. ‘If +you must teach me languages, why not teach me French or Chinese?’<br> +<br> +‘I know nothing of Chinese; and as for French, none but a Frenchman +is clever enough to speak it - to say nothing of teaching; no, we will +stick to Armenian, unless, indeed, you would prefer Welsh!’<br> +<br> +‘Welsh, I have heard, is vulgar,’ said Belle; ‘so, +if I must learn one of the two, I will prefer Armenian, which I never +heard of till you mentioned it to me; though, of the two, I really think +Welsh sounds best.’<br> +<br> +‘The Armenian noun,’ said I, ‘which I propose for +your declension this night, is -, which signifieth Master.’<br> +<br> +‘I neither like the word nor the sound,’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘I can’t help that,’ said I; ‘it is the word +I choose: Master, with all its variations, being the first noun the +sound of which I would have you learn from my lips. Come, let +us begin -<br> +<br> +‘A master. Of a master, etc. Repeat - ’<br> +<br> +‘I am not much used to say the word,’ said Belle, ‘but +to oblige you I will decline it as you wish’; and thereupon Belle +declined Master in Armenian.<br> +<br> +‘You have declined the noun very well,’ said I; ‘that +is in the singular number; we will now go to the plural.’<br> +<br> +‘What is the plural?’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘That which implies more than one, for example, Masters; you shall +now go through masters in Armenian.’<br> +<br> +‘Never,’ said Belle, ‘never; it is bad to have one +master, but more I would never bear, whether in Armenian or English.’<br> +<br> +‘You do not understand,’ said I; ‘I merely want you +to decline Masters in Armenian.’<br> +<br> +‘I do decline them; I will have nothing to do with them, nor with +master either; I was wrong to - What sound is that?’<br> +<br> +‘I did not hear it, but I daresay it is thunder; in Armenian - +’<br> +<br> +‘Never mind what it is in Armenian; but why do you think it is +thunder?’<br> +<br> +‘Ere I returned from my stroll, I looked up into the heavens, +and by their appearance I judged that a storm was nigh at hand.’<br> +<br> +‘And why did you not tell me so?’<br> +<br> +‘You never asked me about the state of the atmosphere, and I am +not in the habit of giving my opinion to people on any subject, unless +questioned. But, setting that aside, can you blame me for not +troubling you with forebodings about storm and tempest, which might +have prevented the pleasure you promised yourself in drinking tea, or +perhaps a lesson in Armenian, though you pretend to dislike the latter?’<br> +<br> +‘My dislike is not pretended,’ said Belle; ‘I hate +the sound of it, but I love my tea, and it was kind of you not to wish +to cast a cloud over my little pleasures; the thunder came quite time +enough to interrupt it without being anticipated - there is another +peal - I will clear away, and see that my tent is in a condition to +resist the storm; and I think you had better bestir yourself.’<br> +<br> +Isopel departed, and I remained seated on my stone, as nothing belonging +to myself required any particular attention; in about a quarter of an +hour she returned, and seated herself upon her stool.<br> +<br> +‘How dark the place is become since I left you,’ said she; +‘just as if night were just at hand.’<br> +<br> +‘Look up at the sky,’ said I; ‘and you will not wonder; +it is all of a deep olive. The wind is beginning to rise; hark +how it moans among the branches, and see how their tops are bending; +it brings dust on its wings - I felt some fall on my face; and what +is this, a drop of rain?’<br> +<br> +‘We shall have plenty anon,’ said Belle; ‘do you hear? +it already begins to hiss upon the embers; that fire of ours will soon +be extinguished.’<br> +<br> +‘It is not probable that we shall want it,’ said I, ‘but +we had better seek shelter: let us go into my tent.’<br> +<br> +‘Go in,’ said Belle, ‘but you go in alone; as for +me, I will seek my own.’<br> +<br> +‘You are right,’ said I, ‘to be afraid of me; I have +taught you to decline master in Armenian.’<br> +<br> +‘You almost tempt me,’ said Belle, ‘to make you decline +mistress in English.’<br> +<br> +‘To make matters short,’ said I, ‘I decline a mistress.’<br> +<br> +‘What do you mean?’ said Belle, angrily.<br> +<br> +‘I have merely done what you wished me,’ said I, ‘and +in your own style; there is no other way of declining anything in English, +for in English there are no declensions.’<br> +<br> +‘The rain is increasing,’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘It is so,’ said I; ‘I shall go to my tent; you may +come if you please; I do assure you I am not afraid of you.’<br> +<br> +‘Nor I of you,’ said Belle; ‘so I will come. +Why should I be afraid? I can take my own part; that is - ’<br> +<br> +We went into the tent and sat down, and now the rain began to pour with +vehemence. ‘I hope we shall not be flooded in this hollow,’ +said I to Belle. ‘There is no fear of that,’ said +Belle; ‘the wandering people, amongst other names, call it the +dry hollow. I believe there is a passage somewhere or other by +which the wet is carried off. There must be a cloud right above +us, it is so dark. Oh! what a flash!’<br> +<br> +‘And what a peal!’ said I; ‘that is what the Hebrews +call Koul Adonai - the voice of the Lord. Are you afraid?’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said Belle, ‘I rather like to hear it.’<br> +<br> +‘You are right,’ said I, ‘I am fond of the sound of +thunder myself. There is nothing like it; Koul Adonai behadar: +the voice of the Lord is a glorious voice, as the prayer-book version +hath it.’<br> +<br> +‘There is something awful in it,’ said Belle; ‘and +then the lightning - the whole dingle is now in a blaze.’<br> +<br> +‘“The voice of the Lord maketh the hinds to calve, and discovereth +the thick bushes.” As you say, there is something awful +in thunder.’<br> +<br> +‘There are all kinds of noises above us,’ said Belle; ‘surely +I heard the crashing of a tree?’<br> +<br> +‘“The voice of the Lord breaketh the cedar trees,”’ +said I, ‘but what you hear is caused by a convulsion of the air; +during a thunder-storm there are occasionally all kinds of aerial noises. +Ab Gwilym, who, next to King David, has best described a thunderstorm, +speaks of these aerial noises in the following manner:-<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Astonied now I stand at strains,<br> +As of ten thousand clanking chains;<br> +And once, methought that, overthrown,<br> +The welkin’s oaks came whelming down;<br> +Upon my head up starts my hair:<br> +Why hunt abroad the hounds of air?<br> +What cursed hag is screeching high,<br> +Whilst crash goes all her crockery?’<br> +<br> +<br> +You would hardly believe, Belle, that though I offered at least ten +thousand lines nearly as good as those to the booksellers in London, +the simpletons were so blind to their interest, as to refuse purchasing +them!’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t wonder at it,’ said Belle, ‘especially +if such dreadful expressions frequently occur as that towards the end; +- surely that was the crash of a tree?’<br> +<br> +‘Ah!’ said I, ‘there falls the cedar tree - I mean +the sallow; one of the tall trees on the outside of the dingle has been +snapped short.’<br> +<br> +‘What a pity,’ said Belle, ‘that the fine old oak, +which you saw the peasants cutting up, gave way the other night, when +scarcely a breath of air was stirring; how much better to have fallen +in a storm like this, the fiercest I remember.’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t think so,’ said I; ‘after braving a +thousand tempests, it was meeter for it to fall of itself than to be +vanquished at last. But to return to Ab Gwilym’s poetry: +he was above culling dainty words, and spoke boldly his mind on all +subjects. Enraged with the thunder for parting him and Morfydd, +he says, at the conclusion of his ode,<br> +<br> +<br> +‘My curse, O Thunder, cling to thee,<br> +For parting my dear pearl and me!’<br> +<br> +<br> +‘You and I shall part, that is, I shall go to my tent, if you +persist in repeating from him. The man must have been a savage. +A poor wood-pigeon has fallen dead.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I, ‘there he lies, just outside the tent; +often have I listened to his note when alone in this wilderness. +So you do not like Ab Gwilym; what say you to old Göthe? -<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Mist shrouds the night, and rack;<br> +Hear, in the woods, what an awful crack!<br> +Wildly the owls are flitting,<br> +Hark to the pillars splitting<br> +Of palaces verdant ever,<br> +The branches quiver and sever,<br> +The mighty stems are creaking,<br> +The poor roots breaking and shrieking,<br> +In wild mixt ruin down dashing,<br> +O’er one another they’re crashing;<br> +Whilst ‘midst the rocks so hoary<br> +Whirlwinds hurry and worry.<br> +Hear’st not, sister - ’<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Hark!’ said Belle, ‘hark!’<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Hear’st not, sister, a chorus<br> +Of voices - ?’<br> +<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said Belle, ‘but I hear a voice.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XCVI<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +A shout - A fireball - See to the horses - Passing away - Gap in the +hedge - On three wheels - Why do you stop? - No craven heart - The cordial +- Across the country - Small bags.<br> +<br> +I listened attentively, but I could hear nothing but the loud clashing +of branches, the pattering of rain, and the muttered growl of thunder. +I was about to tell Belle that she must have been mistaken, when I heard +a shout - indistinct, it is true, owing to the noises aforesaid - from +some part of the field above the dingle. ‘I will soon see +what’s the matter,’ said I to Belle, starting up. +‘I will go too;’ said the girl. ‘Stay where +you are,’ said I; ‘if I need you, I will call’; and, +without waiting for any answer, I hurried to the mouth of the dingle. +I was about a few yards only from the top of the ascent, when I beheld +a blaze of light, from whence I knew not; the next moment there was +a loud crash, and I appeared involved in a cloud of sulphurous smoke. +‘Lord have mercy upon us!’ I heard a voice say, and methought +I heard the plunging and struggling of horses. I had stopped short +on hearing the crash, for I was half stunned; but I now hurried forward, +and in a moment stood upon the plain. Here I was instantly aware +of the cause of the crash and the smoke. One of those balls, generally +called fireballs, had fallen from the clouds, and was burning on the +plain at a short distance; and the voice which I had heard, and the +plunging, were as easily accounted for. Near the left-hand corner +of the grove which surrounded the dingle, and about ten yards from the +fireball, I perceived a chaise, with a postilion on the box, who was +making efforts, apparently useless, to control his horses, which were +kicking and plunging in the highest degree of excitement. I instantly +ran towards the chaise, in order to offer what help was in my power. +‘Help me,’ said the poor fellow, as I drew nigh; but before +I could reach the horses, they had turned rapidly round, one of the +fore-wheels flew from its axle-tree, the chaise was overset, and the +postilion flung violently from his seat upon the field. The horses +now became more furious than before, kicking desperately, and endeavouring +to disengage themselves from the fallen chaise. As I was hesitating +whether to run to the assistance of the postilion or endeavour to disengage +the animals, I heard the voice of Belle exclaiming, ‘See to the +horses, I will look after the man.’ She had, it seems, been +alarmed by the crash which accompanied the firebolt, and had hurried +up to learn the cause. I forthwith seized the horses by the heads, +and used all the means I possessed to soothe and pacify them, employing +every gentle modulation of which my voice was capable. Belle, +in the meantime, had raised up the man, who was much stunned by his +fall; but, presently recovering his recollection to a certain degree, +he came limping to me, holding his hand to his right thigh. ‘The +first thing that must now be done,’ said I, ‘is to free +these horses from the traces; can you undertake to do so?’ +‘ I think I can,’ said the man, looking at me somewhat stupidly. +‘I will help,’ said Belle, and without loss of time laid +hold of one of the traces. The man, after a short pause, also +set to work, and in a few minutes the horses were extricated. +‘Now,’ said I to the man, ‘what is next to be done?’ +‘I don’t know,’ said he; ‘indeed, I scarcely +know anything; I have been so frightened by this horrible storm, and +so shaken by my fall.’ ‘I think,’ said I, ‘that +the storm is passing away, so cast your fears away too; and as for your +fall, you must bear it as lightly as you can. I will tie the horses +amongst those trees, and then we will all betake us to the hollow below.’ +‘And what’s to become of my chaise?’ said the postilion, +looking ruefully on the fallen vehicle. ‘Let us leave the +chaise for the present,’ said I; ‘we can be of no use to +it.’ ‘I don’t like to leave my chaise lying +on the ground in this weather,’ said the man; ‘I love my +chaise, and him whom it belongs to.’ ‘You are quite +right to be fond of yourself,’ said I, ‘on which account +I advise you to seek shelter from the rain as soon as possible.’ +‘I was not talking of myself,’ said the man, ‘but +my master, to whom the chaise belongs.’ ‘I thought +you called the chaise yours,’ said I. ‘That’s +my way of speaking,’ said the man; ‘but the chaise is my +master’s, and a better master does not live. Don’t +you think we could manage to raise up the chaise?’ ‘And +what is to become of the horses?’ said I. ‘I love +my horses well enough,’ said the man; ‘but they will take +less harm than the chaise. We two can never lift up that chaise.’ +‘But we three can,’ said Belle; ‘at least, I think +so; and I know where to find two poles which will assist us.’ +‘You had better go to the tent,’ said I, ‘you will +be wet through.’ ‘I care not for a little wetting,’ +said Belle; ‘moreover, I have more gowns than one - see you after +the horses.’ Thereupon, I led the horses past the mouth +of the dingle, to a place where a gap in the hedge afforded admission +to the copse or plantation on the southern side. Forcing them +through the gap, I led them to a spot amidst the trees which I deemed +would afford them the most convenient place for standing; then, darting +down into the dingle, I brought up a rope, and also the halter of my +own nag, and with these fastened them each to a separate tree in the +best manner I could. This done, I returned to the chaise and the +postilion. In a minute or two Belle arrived with two poles which, +it seems, had long been lying, overgrown with brushwood, in a ditch +or hollow behind the plantation. With these both she and I set +to work in endeavouring to raise the fallen chaise from the ground.<br> +<br> +We experienced considerable difficulty in this undertaking; at length, +with the assistance of the postilion, we saw our efforts crowned with +success - the chaise was lifted up, and stood upright on three wheels.<br> +<br> +‘We may leave it here in safety,’ said I, ‘for it +will hardly move away on three wheels, even supposing it could run by +itself; I am afraid there is work here for a wheelwright, in which case +I cannot assist you; if you were in need of a blacksmith it would be +otherwise.’ ‘I don’t think either the wheel +or the axle is hurt,’ said the postilion, who had been handling +both; ‘it is only the linch-pin having dropped out that caused +the wheel to fly off; if I could but find the linch-pin! - though, perhaps, +it fell out a mile away.’ ‘Very likely,’ said +I; ‘but never mind the linch-pin, I can make you one, or something +that will serve: but I can’t stay here any longer, I am going +to my place below with this young gentlewoman, and you had better follow +us.’ ‘I am ready,’ said the man; and after lifting +up the wheel and propping it against the chaise, he went with us, slightly +limping, and with his hand pressed to his thigh.<br> +<br> +As we were descending the narrow path, Belle leading the way, and myself +the last of the party, the postilion suddenly stopped short, and looked +about him. ‘Why do you stop?’ said I. ‘I +don’t wish to offend you,’ said the man, ‘but this +seems to be a strange place you are leading me into; I hope you and +the young gentlewoman, as you call her, don’t mean me any harm +- you seemed in a great hurry to bring me here.’ ‘We +wished to get you out of the rain,’ said I, ‘and ourselves +too; that is, if we can, which I rather doubt, for the canvas of a tent +is slight shelter in such a rain; but what harm should we wish to do +you?’ ‘You may think I have money,’ said the +man, ‘and I have some, but only thirty shillings, and for a sum +like that it would be hardly worth while to - ’ ‘Would +it not?’ said I; ‘thirty shillings, after all, are thirty +shillings, and for what I know, half a dozen throats may have been cut +in this place for that sum at the rate of five shillings each; moreover, +there are the horses, which would serve to establish this young gentlewoman +and myself in housekeeping, provided we were thinking of such a thing.’ +‘Then I suppose I have fallen into pretty hands,’ said the +man, putting himself in a posture of defence; ‘but I’ll +show no craven heart; and if you attempt to lay hands on me, I’ll +try to pay you in your own coin. I’m rather lamed in the +leg, but I can still use my fists; so come on, both of you, man and +woman, if woman this be, though she looks more like a grenadier.’<br> +<br> +‘Let me hear no more of this nonsense,’ said Belle; ‘if +you are afraid, you can go back to your chaise - we only seek to do +you a kindness.’<br> +<br> +‘Why, he was just now talking of cutting throats,’ said +the man. ‘You brought it on yourself,’ said Belle; +‘you suspected us, and he wished to pass a joke upon you; he would +not hurt a hair of your head, were your coach laden with gold, nor would +I.’ ‘Well,’ said the man, ‘I was wrong +- here’s my hand to both of you,’ shaking us by the hands; +‘I’ll go with you where you please, but I thought this a +strange lonesome place, though I ought not much to mind strange lonesome +places, having been in plenty of such when I was a servant in Italy, +without coming to any harm - come, let us move on, for ’tis a +shame to keep you two in the rain.’<br> +<br> +So we descended the path which led into the depths of the dingle; at +the bottom I conducted the postilion to my tent, which, though the rain +dripped and trickled through it, afforded some shelter; there I bade +him sit down on the log of wood, whilst I placed myself as usual on +my stone. Belle in the meantime had repaired to her own place +of abode. After a little time, I produced a bottle of the cordial +of which I have previously had occasion to speak, and made my guest +take a considerable draught. I then offered him some, bread and +cheese, which he accepted with thanks. In about an hour the rain +had much abated: ‘What do you now propose to do?’ said I. +‘I scarcely know,’ said the man; ‘I suppose I must +endeavour to put on the wheel with your help.’ ‘How +far are you from your home?’ I demanded. ‘Upwards +of thirty miles,’ said the man; ‘my master keeps an inn +on the great north road, and from thence I started early this morning +with a family, which I conveyed across the country to a hall at some +distance from here. On my return I was beset by the thunderstorm, +which frightened the horses, who dragged the chaise off the road to +the field above, and overset it as you saw. I had proposed to +pass the night at an inn about twelve miles from here on my way back, +though how I am to get there to-night I scarcely know, even if we can +put on the wheel, for, to tell you the truth, I am shaken by my fall, +and the smoulder and smoke of that fireball have rather bewildered my +head; I am, moreover, not much acquainted with the way.<br> +<br> +‘The best thing you can do,’ said I, ‘is to pass the +night here; I will presently light a fire, and endeavour to make you +comfortable - in the morning we will see to your wheel.’ +‘Well,’ said the man, ‘I shall be glad to pass the +night here, provided I do not intrude, but I must see to the horses.’ +Thereupon I conducted the man to the place where the horses were tied. +‘The trees drip very much upon them,’ said the man, ‘and +it will not do for them to remain here all night; they will be better +out on the field picking the grass; but first of all they must have +a good feed of corn.’ Thereupon he went to his chaise, from +which he presently brought two small bags, partly filled with corn - +into them he inserted the mouths of the horses, tying them over their +heads. ‘Here we will leave them for a time,’ said +the man; ‘when I think they have had enough, I will come back, +tie their fore-legs, and let them pick about.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XCVII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Fire of charcoal - The new-comer - No wonder! - Not a blacksmith - A +love affair - Gretna Green - A cool thousand - Family estates - Borough +interest - Grand education - Let us hear - Already quarrelling - Honourable +parents - Most heroically - Not common people - Fresh charcoal.<br> +<br> +It might be about ten o’clock at night. Belle, the postilion, +and myself, sat just within the tent, by a fire of charcoal which I +had kindled in the chafing-pan. The man had removed the harness +from his horses, and, after tethering their legs, had left them for +the night in the field above to regale themselves on what grass they +could find. The rain had long since entirely ceased, and the moon +and stars shone bright in the firmament, up to which, putting aside +the canvas, I occasionally looked from the depths of the dingle. +Large drops of water, however, falling now and then upon the tent from +the neighbouring trees, would have served, could we have forgotten it, +to remind us of the recent storm, and also a certain chilliness in the +atmosphere, unusual to the season, proceeding from the moisture with +which the ground was saturated; yet these circumstances only served +to make our party enjoy the charcoal fire the more. There we sat +bending over it: Belle, with her long beautiful hair streaming over +her magnificent shoulders; the postilion smoking his pipe, in his shirt-sleeves +and waistcoat, having flung aside his greatcoat, which had sustained +a thorough wetting; and I without my wagoner’s slop, of which, +it being in the same plight, I had also divested myself.<br> +<br> +The new-comer was a well-made fellow of about thirty, with an open and +agreeable countenance. I found him very well informed for a man +in his station, and with some pretensions to humour. After we +had discoursed for some time on indifferent subjects, the postilion, +who had exhausted his pipe, took it from his mouth, and, knocking out +the ashes upon the ground, exclaimed, ‘I little thought, when +I got up in the morning, that I should spend the night in such agreeable +company, and after such a fright.’<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said I, ‘I am glad that your opinion of us +has improved; it is not long since you seemed to hold us in rather a +suspicious light.’<br> +<br> +‘And no wonder,’ said the man, ‘seeing the place you +were taking me to! I was not a little, but very much afraid of +ye both; and so I continued for some time, though, not to show a craven +heart, I pretended to be quite satisfied; but I see I was altogether +mistaken about ye. I thought you vagrant gypsy folks and trampers; +but now - ’<br> +<br> +‘Vagrant gypsy folks and trampers,’ said I; ‘and what +are we but people of that stamp?’<br> +<br> +‘Oh,’ said the postilion, ‘if you wish to be thought +such, I am far too civil a person to contradict you, especially after +your kindness to me, but - ’<br> +<br> +‘But!’ said I; ‘what do you mean by but? I would +have you to know that I am proud of being a travelling blacksmith; look +at these donkey-shoes, I finished them this day.’<br> +<br> +The postilion took the shoes and examined them. ‘So you +made these shoes?’ he cried at last.<br> +<br> +‘To be sure I did; do you doubt it?’<br> +<br> +‘Not in the least,’ said the man.<br> +<br> +‘Ah! ah!’ said I, ‘I thought I should bring you back +to your original opinion. I am, then, a vagrant gypsy body, a +tramper, a wandering blacksmith.’<br> +<br> +‘Not a blacksmith, whatever else you may be,’ said the postilion, +laughing.<br> +<br> +‘Then how do you account for my making those shoes?’<br> +<br> +‘By your not being a blacksmith,’ said the postilion; ‘no +blacksmith would have made shoes in that manner. Besides, what +did you mean just now by saying you had finished these shoes to-day? +A real blacksmith would have flung off three or four sets of donkey-shoes +in one morning, but you, I will be sworn, have been hammering at these +for days, and they do you credit - but why? - because you are no blacksmith; +no, friend, your shoes may do for this young gentlewoman’s animal, +but I shouldn’t like to have my horses shod by you, unless at +a great pinch indeed.’<br> +<br> +‘Then,’ said I, ‘for what do you take me?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, for some runaway young gentleman,’ said the postilion. +‘No offence, I hope?’<br> +<br> +‘None at all; no one is offended at being taken or mistaken for +a young gentleman, whether runaway or not; but from whence do you suppose +I have run away?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, from college,’ said the man: ‘no offence?’<br> +<br> +‘None whatever; and what induced me to run away from college?’<br> +<br> +‘A love affair, I’ll be sworn,’ said the postilion. +‘You had become acquainted with this young gentlewoman, so she +and you - ’<br> +<br> +‘Mind how you get on, friend,’ said Belle, in a deep serious +tone.<br> +<br> +‘Pray proceed,’ said I; ‘I daresay you mean no offence.’<br> +<br> +‘None in the world,’ said the postilion; ‘all I was +going to say was, that you agreed to run away together, you from college, +and she from boarding-school. Well, there’s nothing to be +ashamed of in a matter like that, such things are done every day by +young folks in high life.’<br> +<br> +‘Are you offended?’ said I to Belle.<br> +<br> +Belle made no answer; but, placing her elbows on her knees, buried her +face in her hands.<br> +<br> +‘So we ran away together?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Ay, ay,’ said the postilion, ‘to Gretna Green, though +I can’t say that I drove ye, though I have driven many a pair.’<br> +<br> +‘And from Gretna Green we came here?’<br> +<br> +‘I’ll be bound you did,’ said the man, ‘till +you could arrange matters at home.’<br> +<br> +‘And the horse-shoes?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘The donkey-shoes you mean,’ answered the postilion; ‘why, +I suppose you persuaded the blacksmith who married you to give you, +before you left, a few lessons in his trade.’<br> +<br> +‘And we intend to stay here till we have arranged matters at home?’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, ay,’ said the postilion, ‘till the old people +are pacified, and they send you letters directed to the next post town, +to be left till called for, beginning with “Dear children,” +and enclosing you each a cheque for one hundred pounds, when you will +leave this place, and go home in a coach like gentlefolks, to visit +your governors; I should like nothing better than to have the driving +of you: and then there will be a grand meeting of the two families, +and after a few reproaches, the old people will agree to do something +handsome for the poor thoughtless things; so you will have a genteel +house taken for you, and an annuity allowed you. You won’t +get much the first year, five hundred at the most, in order that the +old folks may let you feel that they are not altogether satisfied with +you, and that you are yet entirely in their power; but the second, if +you don’t get a cool thousand, may I catch cold, especially should +young madam here present a son and heir for the old people to fondle, +destined one day to become sole heir of the two illustrious houses; +and then all the grand folks in the neighbourhood, who have - bless +their prudent hearts! - kept rather aloof from you till then, for fear +you should want anything from them - I say all the carriage people in +the neighbourhood, when they see how swimmingly matters are going on, +will come in shoals to visit you.’<br> +<br> +‘Really,’ said I, ‘you are getting on swimmingly.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh,’ said the postilion, ‘I was not a gentleman’s +servant nine years without learning the ways of gentry, and being able +to know gentry when I see them.’<br> +<br> +‘And what do you say to all this?’ I demanded of Belle.<br> +<br> +‘Stop a moment,’ interposed the postilion, ‘I have +one more word to say:- and when you are surrounded by your comforts, +keeping your nice little barouche and pair, your coachman and livery +servant, and visited by all the carriage people in the neighbourhood +- to say nothing of the time when you come to the family estates on +the death of the old people - I shouldn’t wonder if now and then +you look back with longing and regret to the days when you lived in +the damp dripping dingle, had no better equipage than a pony or donkey +cart, and saw no better company than a tramper or gypsy, except once, +when a poor postilion was glad to seat himself at your charcoal fire.’<br> +<br> +‘Pray,’ said I, ‘did you ever take lessons in elocution?’<br> +<br> +‘Not directly,’ said the postilion; ‘but my old master, +who was in Parliament, did, and so did his son, who was intended to +be an orator. A great professor used to come and give them lessons, +and I used to stand and listen, by which means I picked up a considerable +quantity of what is called rhetoric. In what I last said, I was +aiming at what I have heard him frequently endeavouring to teach my +governors as a thing indispensably necessary in all oratory, a graceful +pere - pere - peregrination.’<br> +<br> +‘Peroration, perhaps?’<br> +<br> +‘Just so,’ said the postilion; ‘and now I’m +sure I am not mistaken about you; you have taken lessons yourself, at +first hand, in the college vacations, and a promising pupil you were, +I make no doubt. Well, your friends will be all the happier to +get you back. Has your governor much borough interest?’<br> +<br> +‘I ask you once more,’ said I, addressing myself to Belle, +‘what you think of the history which this good man has made for +us?’<br> +<br> +‘What should I think of it,’ said Belle, still keeping her +face buried in her hands, ‘but that it is mere nonsense?’<br> +<br> +‘Nonsense!’ said the postilion.<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said the girl, ‘and you know it.’<br> +<br> +‘May my leg always ache, if I do,’ said the postilion, patting +his leg with his hand; ‘will you persuade me that this young man +has never been at college?’<br> +<br> +‘I have never been at college, but - ’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, ay,’ said the postilion, ‘but - ’<br> +<br> +‘I have been to the best schools in Britain, to say nothing of +a celebrated one in Ireland.’<br> +<br> +‘Well, then, it comes to the same thing,’ said the postilion, +‘or perhaps you know more than if you had been at college - and +your governor - ’<br> +<br> +‘My governor, as you call him,’ said I, ‘is dead.’<br> +<br> +‘And his borough interest?’<br> +<br> +‘My father had no borough interest,’ said I; ‘had +he possessed any, he would perhaps not have died, as he did, honourably +poor.’<br> +<br> +‘No, no,’ said the postilion, ‘if he had had borough +interest, he wouldn’t have been poor, nor honourable, though perhaps +a right honourable. However, with your grand education and genteel +manners, you made all right at last by persuading this noble young gentlewoman +to run away from boarding-school with you.’<br> +<br> +‘I was never at boarding-school,’ said Belle, ‘unless +you call - ’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, ay,’ said the postilion, ‘boarding-school is +vulgar, I know: I beg your pardon, I ought to have called it academy, +or by some other much finer name - you were in something much greater +than a boarding-school.’<br> +<br> +‘There you are right,’ said Belle, lifting up her head and +looking the postilion full in the face by the light of the charcoal +fire, ‘for I was bred in the workhouse.’<br> +<br> +‘Wooh!’ said the postilion.<br> +<br> +‘It is true that I am of good - ’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, ay,’ said the postilion, ‘let us hear - ’<br> +<br> +‘Of good blood,’ continued Belle; ‘my name is Berners, +Isopel Berners, though my parents were unfortunate. Indeed, with +respect to blood, I believe I am of better blood than the young man.’<br> +<br> +‘There you are mistaken,’ said I; ‘by my father’s +side I am of Cornish blood, and by my mother’s of brave French +Protestant extraction. Now, with respect to the blood of my father +- and to be descended well on the father’s side is the principal +thing - it is the best blood in the world, for the Cornish blood, as +the proverb says - ’<br> +<br> +‘I don’t care what the proverb says,’ said Belle; +‘I say my blood is the best - my name is Berners, Isopel Berners +- it was my mother’s name, and is better, I am sure, than any +you bear, whatever that may be; and though you say that the descent +on the fathers side is the principal thing - and I know why you say +so,’ she added with some excitement - ‘I say that descent +on the mother’s side is of most account, because the mother - +’<br> +<br> +‘Just come from Gretna Green, and already quarrelling!’ +said the postilion.<br> +<br> +‘We do not come from Gretna Green,’ said Belle.<br> +<br> +‘Ah, I had forgot,’ said the postilion; ‘none but +great people go to Gretna Green. Well, then, from church, and +already quarrelling about family, just like two great people.’<br> +<br> +‘We have never been to church,’ said Belle; ‘and to +prevent any more guessing on your part, it will be as well for me to +tell you, friend, that I am nothing to the young man, and he, of course, +nothing to me. I am a poor travelling girl, born in a workhouse: +journeying on my occasions with certain companions, I came to this hollow, +where my company quarrelled with the young man, who had settled down +here, as he had a right to do if he pleased; and not being able to drive +him out, they went away after quarrelling with me, too, for not choosing +to side with them; so I stayed here along with the young man, there +being room for us both, and the place being as free to me as to him.’<br> +<br> +‘And in order that you may be no longer puzzled with respect to +myself,’ said I; ‘I will give you a brief outline of my +history. I am the son of honourable parents, who gave me a first-rate +education, as far as literature and languages went, with which education +I endeavoured, on the death of my father, to advance myself to wealth +and reputation in the big city; but failing in the attempt, I conceived +a disgust for the busy world, and determined to retire from it. +After wandering about for some time, and meeting with various adventures, +in one of which I contrived to obtain a pony, cart, and certain tools +used by smiths and tinkers, I came to this place, where I amused myself +with making horse-shoes, or rather pony-shoes, having acquired the art +of wielding the hammer and tongs from a strange kind of smith - not +him of Gretna Green - whom I knew in my childhood. And here I +lived, doing harm to no one, quite lonely and solitary, till one fine +morning the premises were visited by this young gentlewoman and her +companions. She did herself anything but justice when she said +that her companions quarrelled with her because she would not side with +them against me; they quarrelled with her because she came most heroically +to my assistance as I was on the point of being murdered; and she forgot +to tell you that, after they had abandoned her, she stood by me in the +- dark hour, comforting and cheering me, when unspeakable dread, to +which I am occasionally subject, took possession of my mind. She +says she is nothing to me, even as I am nothing to her. I am of +course nothing to her, but she is mistaken in thinking she is nothing +to me. I entertain the highest regard and admiration for her, +being convinced that I might search the whole world in vain for a nature +more heroic and devoted.’<br> +<br> +‘And for my part,’ said Belle, with a sob, ‘a more +quiet agreeable partner in a place like this I would not wish to have; +it is true he has strange ways, and frequently puts words into my mouth +very difficult to utter, but - but - ’ and here she buried her +face once more in her hands.<br> +<br> +‘Well,’ said the postilion, ‘I have been mistaken +about you; that is, not altogether, but in part. You are not rich +folks, it seems, but you are not common people, and that I could have +sworn. What I call a shame is, that some people I have known are +not in your place and you in theirs, you with their estates and borough +interest, they in this dingle with these carts and animals; but there +is no help for these things. Were I the great Mumbo Jumbo above, +I would endeavour to manage matters better; but being a simple postilion, +glad to earn three shillings a day, I can’t be expected to do +much.’<br> +<br> +‘Who is Mumbo Jumbo?’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Ah!’ said the postilion, ‘I see there may be a thing +or two I know better than yourself. Mumbo Jumbo is a god of the +black coast, to which people go for ivory and gold.’<br> +<br> +‘Were you ever there?’ I demanded.<br> +<br> +‘No,’ said the postilion, ‘but I heard plenty of Mumbo +Jumbo when I was a boy.’<br> +<br> +‘I wish you would tell us something about yourself. I believe +that your own real history would prove quite as entertaining, if not +more, than that which you imagined about us.’<br> +<br> +‘I am rather tired,’ said the postilion, ‘and my leg +is rather troublesome. I should be glad to try to sleep upon one +of your blankets. However, as you wish to hear something about +me, I shall be happy to oblige you; but your fire is rather low, and +this place is chilly.’<br> +<br> +Thereupon I arose, and put fresh charcoal on the pan; then taking it +outside the tent, with a kind of fan which I had fashioned, I fanned +the coals into a red glow, and continued doing so until the greater +part of the noxious gas, which the coals are in the habit of exhaling, +was exhausted. I then brought it into the tent and reseated myself, +scattering over the coals a small portion of sugar. ‘No +bad smell,’ said the postilion; ‘but upon the whole I think +I like the smell of tobacco better; and with your permission I will +once more light my pipe.’<br> +<br> +Thereupon he relighted his pipe; and, after taking two or three whiffs, +began in the following manner.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XCVIII<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +An exordium - Fine ships - High Barbary captains - Free-born Englishmen +- Monstrous figure - Swashbuckler - The grand coaches - The footmen +- A travelling expedition - Black Jack - Nelson’s cannon - Pharaoh’s +butler - A diligence - Two passengers - Sharking priest - Virgilio - +Lessons in Italian - Two opinions - Holy Mary - Priestly confederates +- Methodist chapel - Veturini - Some of our party - Like a sepulchre +- All for themselves.<br> +<br> +‘I am a poor postilion, as you see; yet, as I have seen a thing +or two and heard a thing or two of what is going on in the world, perhaps +what I have to tell you connected with myself may not prove altogether +uninteresting. Now, my friends, this manner of opening a story +is what the man who taught rhetoric would call a hex - hex - ’<br> +<br> +‘Exordium,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘Just so,’ said the postilion; ‘I treated you to a +per - per - peroration some time ago, so that I have contrived to put +the cart before the horse, as the Irish orators frequently do in the +honourable House, in whose speeches, especially those who have taken +lessons in rhetoric, the per - per - what’s the word? - frequently +goes before the exordium.<br> +<br> +‘I was born in the neighbouring county; my father was land-steward +to a squire of about a thousand a year. My father had two sons, +of whom I am the youngest by some years. My elder brother was +of a spirited roving disposition, and for fear that he should turn out +what is generally termed ungain, my father determined to send him to +sea: so once upon a time, when my brother was about fifteen, he took +him to the great seaport of the county, where he apprenticed him to +a captain of one of the ships which trade to the high Barbary coast. +Fine ships they were, I have heard say, more than thirty in number, +and all belonging to a wonderful great gentleman, who had once been +a parish boy, but had contrived to make an immense fortune by trading +to that coast for gold-dust, ivory, and other strange articles; and +for doing so, I mean for making a fortune, had been made a knight baronet. +So my brother went to the high Barbary shore, on board the fine vessel, +and in about a year returned and came to visit us; he repeated the voyage +several times, always coming to see his parents on his return. +Strange stories he used to tell us of what he had been witness to on +the high Barbary coast, both off shore and on. He said that the +fine vessel in which he sailed was nothing better than a painted hell; +that the captain was a veritable fiend, whose grand delight was in tormenting +his men, especially when they were sick, as they frequently were, there +being always fever on the high Barbary coast; and that though the captain +was occasionally sick himself, his being so made no difference, or rather +it did make a difference, though for the worse, he being when sick always +more inveterate and malignant than at other times. He said that +once, when he himself was sick, his captain had pitched his face all +over, which exploit was much applauded by the other high Barbary captains +- all of whom, from what my brother said, appeared to be of much the +same disposition as my brother’s captain, taking wonderful delight +in tormenting the crews, and doing all manner of terrible things. +My brother frequently said that nothing whatever prevented him from +running away from his ship, and never returning, but the hope he entertained +of one day being captain himself, and able to torment people in his +turn, which he solemnly vowed he would do, as a kind of compensation +for what he himself had undergone. And if things were going on +in a strange way off the high Barbary shore amongst those who came there +to trade, they were going on in a way yet stranger with the people who +lived upon it.<br> +<br> +‘Oh the strange ways of the black men who lived on that shore, +of which my brother used to tell us at home - selling their sons, daughters, +and servants for slaves, and the prisoners taken in battle, to the Spanish +captains, to be carried to Havannah, and when there, sold at a profit, +the idea of which, my brother said, went to the hearts of our own captains, +who used to say what a hard thing it was that free-born Englishmen could +not have a hand in the traffic, seeing that it was forbidden by the +laws of their country; talking fondly of the good old times when their +forefathers used to carry slaves to Jamaica and Barbadoes, realising +immense profit, besides the pleasure of hearing their shrieks on the +voyage; and then the superstitions of the blacks, which my brother used +to talk of; their sharks’ teeth, their wisps of fowls’ feathers, +their half-baked pots full of burnt bones, of which they used to make +what they called fetish, and bow down to, and ask favours of, and then, +perhaps, abuse and strike, provided the senseless rubbish did not give +them what they asked for; and then, above all, Mumbo Jumbo, the grand +fetish master, who lived somewhere in the woods, and who used to come +out every now and then with his fetish companions; a monstrous figure, +all wound round with leaves and branches, so as to be quite indistinguishable, +and, seating himself on the high seat in the villages, receive homage +from the people, and also gifts and offerings, the most valuable of +which were pretty damsels, and then betake himself back again, with +his followers, into the woods. Oh the tales that my brother used +to tell us of the high Barbary shore! Poor fellow! what became +of him I can’t say; the last time he came back from a voyage, +he told us that his captain, as soon as he had brought his vessel to +port and settled with his owner, drowned himself off the quay, in a +fit of the horrors, which it seems high Barbary captains, after a certain +number of years, are much subject to. After staying about a month +with us, he went to sea again, with another captain; and, bad as the +old one had been, it appears the new one was worse, for, unable to bear +his treatment, my brother left his ship off the high Barbary shore, +and ran away up the country. Some of his comrades, whom we afterwards +saw, said that there were various reports about him on the shore; one +that he had taken on with Mumbo Jumbo, and was serving him in his house +in the woods, in the capacity of swashbuckler, or life-guardsman; another, +that he was gone in quest of a mighty city in the heart of the negro +country; another, that in swimming a stream he had been devoured by +an alligator. Now, these two last reports were bad enough; the +idea of their flesh and blood being bit asunder by a ravenous fish was +sad enough to my poor parents; and not very comfortable was the thought +of his sweltering over the hot sands in quest of the negro city; but +the idea of their son, their eldest child, serving Mumbo Jumbo as swashbuckler +was worst of all, and caused my poor parents to shed many a scalding +tear.<br> +<br> +‘I stayed at home with my parents until I was about eighteen, +assisting my father in various ways. I then went to live at the +Squire’s, partly as groom, partly as footman. After living +in the country some time, I attended the family in a trip of six weeks +which they made to London. Whilst there, happening to have some +words with an old ill-tempered coachman, who had been for a great many +years in the family, my master advised me to leave, offering to recommend +me to a family of his acquaintance who were in need of a footman. +I was glad to accept his offer, and in a few days went to my new place. +My new master was one of the great gentry, a baronet in Parliament, +and possessed of an estate of about twenty thousand a year; his family +consisted of his lady, a son, a fine young man just coming of age, and +two very sweet amiable daughters. I liked this place much better +than my first, there was so much more pleasant noise and bustle - so +much more grand company, and so many more opportunities of improving +myself. Oh, how I liked to see the grand coaches drive up to the +door, with the grand company; and though, amidst that company, there +were some who did not look very grand, there were others, and not a +few, who did. Some of the ladies quite captivated me; there was +the Marchioness of - in particular. This young lady puts me much +in mind of her; it is true, the Marchioness, as I saw her then, was +about fifteen years older than this young gentlewoman is now, and not +so tall by some inches, but she had the very same hair, and much the +same neck and shoulders - no offence, I hope? And then some of +the young gentlemen, with their cool, haughty, care-for-nothing looks, +struck me as being very fine fellows. There was one in particular, +whom I frequently used to stare at, not altogether unlike some one I +have seen hereabouts - he had a slight cast in his eye, and . . . but +I won’t enter into every particular. And then the footmen! +Oh, how those footmen helped to improve me with their conversation. +Many of them could converse much more glibly than their masters, and +appeared to have much better taste. At any rate, they seldom approved +of what their masters did. I remember being once with one in the +gallery of the play-house, when something of Shakspeare’s was +being performed: some one in the first tier of boxes was applauding +very loudly. “That’s my fool of a governor,” +said he; “he is weak enough to like Shakspeare - I don’t; +- he’s so confoundedly low, but he won’t last long - going +down. Shakspeare culminated” - I think that was the word +- “culminated some time ago.”<br> +<br> +‘And then the professor of elocution, of whom my governors used +to take lessons, and of which lessons I had my share, by listening behind +the door; but for that professor of elocution I should not be able to +round my periods - an expression of his - in the manner I do.<br> +<br> +‘After I had been three years at this place my mistress died. +Her death, however, made no great alteration in my way of living, the +family spending their winters in London, and their summers at their +old seat in S- as before. At last, the young ladies, who had not +yet got husbands, which was strange enough, seeing, as I told you before, +they were very amiable, proposed to our governor a travelling expedition +abroad. The old baronet consented, though young master was much +against it, saying they would all be much better at home. As the +girls persisted, however, he at last withdrew his opposition, and even +promised to follow them as soon as his parliamentary duties would permit; +for he was just got into Parliament, and, like most other young members, +thought that nothing could be done in the House without him. So +the old gentleman and the two young ladies set off, taking me with them, +and a couple of ladies’ maids to wait upon them. First of +all, we went to Paris, where we continued three months, the old baronet +and the ladies going to see the various sights of the city and the neighbourhood, +and I attending them. They soon got tired of sight-seeing, and +of Paris too; and so did I. However, they still continued there, +in order, I believe, that the young ladies might lay in a store of French +finery. I should have passed my idle time at Paris, of which I +had plenty after the sight-seeing was over, very unpleasantly, but for +Black Jack. Eh! did you never hear of Black Jack? Ah! if +you had ever been an English servant in Paris, you would have known +Black Jack; not an English gentleman’s servant who has been at +Paris for this last ten years but knows Black Jack and his ordinary. +A strange fellow he was - of what country no one could exactly say - +for as for judging from speech, that was impossible, Jack speaking all +languages equally ill. Some said he came direct from Satan’s +kitchen, and that when he gives up keeping ordinary, he will return +there again, though the generally-received opinion at Paris was, that +he was at one time butler to King Pharaoh; and that, after lying asleep +for four thousand years in a place called the Kattycombs, he was awaked +by the sound of Nelson’s cannon at the battle of the Nile, and +going to the shore, took on with the admiral, and became, in course +of time, ship steward; and that after Nelson’s death he was captured +by the French, on board one of whose vessels he served in a somewhat +similar capacity till the peace, when he came to Paris, and set up an +ordinary for servants, sticking the name of Katcomb over the door, in +allusion to the place where he had his long sleep. But, whatever +his origin was, Jack kept his own counsel, and appeared to care nothing +for what people said about him, or called him. Yes, I forgot, +there was one name he would not be called, and that was “Portuguese.” +I once saw Black Jack knock down a coachman, six foot high, who called +him black-faced Portuguese. “Any name but dat, you shab,” +said Black Jack, who was a little round fellow, of about five feet two; +“I would not stand to be called Portuguese by Nelson himself.” +Jack was rather fond of talking about Nelson, and hearing people talk +about him, so that it is not improbable that he may have sailed with +him; and with respect to his having been King Pharaoh’s butler, +all I have to say is, I am not disposed to give the downright lie to +the report. Jack was always ready to do a kind turn to a poor servant +out of place, and has often been known to assist such as were in prison, +which charitable disposition he perhaps acquired from having lost a +good place himself, having seen the inside of a prison, and known the +want of a meal’s victuals, all which trials King Pharaoh’s +butler underwent, so he may have been that butler; at any rate, I have +known positive conclusions come to on no better premisses, if indeed +as good. As for the story of his coming direct from Satan’s +kitchen, I place no confidence in it at all, as Black Jack had nothing +of Satan about him but blackness, on which account he was called Black +Jack. Nor am I disposed to give credit to a report that his hatred +of the Portuguese arose from some ill treatment which he had once experienced +when on shore, at Lisbon, from certain gentlewomen of the place, but +rather conclude that it arose from an opinion he entertained that the +Portuguese never paid their debts, one of the ambassadors of that nation, +whose house he had served, having left Paris several thousand francs +in his debt. This is all that I have to say about Black Jack, +without whose funny jokes and good ordinary I should have passed my +time in Paris in a very disconsolate manner.<br> +<br> +‘After we had been at Paris between two and three months, we left +it in the direction of Italy, which country the family had a great desire +to see. After travelling a great many days in a thing which, though +called a diligence, did not exhibit much diligence, we came to a great +big town, seated around a nasty salt-water bason, connected by a narrow +passage with the sea. Here we were to embark; and so we did as +soon as possible, glad enough to get away - at least I was, and so I +make no doubt were the rest, for such a place for bad smells I never +was in. It seems all the drains and sewers of the place run into +that same salt bason, voiding into it all their impurities, which, not +being able to escape into the sea in any considerable quantity, owing +to the narrowness of the entrance, there accumulate, filling the whole +atmosphere with these same outrageous scents, on which account the town +is a famous lodging-house of the plague. The ship in which we +embarked was bound for a place in Italy called Naples, where we were +to stay some time. The voyage was rather a lazy one, the ship +not being moved by steam; for at the time of which I am speaking, some +five years ago, steam-ships were not so plentiful as now. There +were only two passengers in the grand cabin, where my governor and his +daughters were, an Italian lady and a priest. Of the lady I have +not much to say; she appeared to be a quiet respectable person enough, +and after our arrival at Naples I neither saw nor heard anything more +of her; but of the priest I shall have a good deal to say in the sequel +(that, by the bye, is a word I learnt from the professor of rhetoric), +and it would have been well for our family had they never met him.<br> +<br> +‘On the third day of the voyage the priest came to me, who was +rather unwell with sea-sickness, which he, of course, felt nothing of +- that kind of people being never affected like others. He was +a finish-looking man of about forty-five, but had something strange +in his eyes, which I have since thought denoted that all was not right +in a certain place called the heart. After a few words of condolence, +in a broken kind of English, he asked me various questions about our +family; and I, won by his seeming kindness, told him all I knew about +them - of which communicativeness I afterwards very much repented. +As soon as he had got out of me all he desired, he left me; and I observed +that during the rest of the voyage he was wonderfully attentive to our +governor, and yet more to the young ladies. Both, however, kept +him rather at a distance; the young ladies were reserved, and once or +twice I heard our governor cursing him between his teeth for a sharking +priest. The priest, however, was not disconcerted, and continued +his attentions, which in a little time produced an effect, so that, +by the time we landed at Naples, our great folks had conceived a kind +of liking for the man, and when they took their leave invited him to +visit them, which he promised to do. We hired a grand house or +palace at Naples; it belonged to a poor kind of prince, who was glad +enough to let it to our governor, and also his servants and carriages; +and glad enough were the poor servants, for they got from us what they +never got from the prince - plenty of meat and money; and glad enough, +I make no doubt, were the horses for the provender we gave them; and +I daresay the coaches were not sorry to be cleaned and furbished up. +Well, we went out and came in; going to see the sights, and returning. +Amongst other things we saw was the burning mountain, and the tomb of +a certain sorcerer called Virgilio, who made witch rhymes, by which +he could raise the dead. Plenty of people came to see us, both +English and Italians, and amongst the rest the priest. He did +not come amongst the first, but allowed us to settle and become a little +quiet before he showed himself; and after a day or two he paid us another +visit, then another, till at last his visits were daily.<br> +<br> +‘I did not like that Jack Priest; so I kept my eye upon all his +motions. Lord! how that Jack Priest did curry favour with our +governor and the two young ladies; and he curried, and curried, till +he had got himself into favour with the governor, and more especially +with the two young ladies, of whom their father was doatingly fond. +At last the ladies took lessons in Italian of the priest, a language +in which he was said to be a grand proficient, and of which they had +hitherto known but very little; and from that time his influence over +them, and consequently over the old governor, increased, till the tables +were turned, and he no longer curried favour with them, but they with +him - yes, as true as my leg aches, the young ladies curried, and the +old governor curried favour with that same priest; when he was with +them, they seemed almost to hang on his lips, that is, the young ladies; +and as for the old governor, he never contradicted him, and when the +fellow was absent, which, by the bye, was not often, it was, “Father +so-and-so said this,” and “Father so-and-so said that”; +“Father so-and-so thinks we should do so-and-so, or that we should +not do so-and-so.” I at first thought that he must have +given them something, some philtre or the like, but one of the English +maid-servants, who had a kind of respect for me, and who saw much more +behind the scenes than I did, informed me that he was continually instilling +strange notions into their heads, striving, by every possible method, +to make them despise the religion of their own land, and take up that +of the foreign country in which they were. And sure enough, in +a little time, the girls had altogether left off going to an English +chapel, and were continually visiting places of Italian worship. +The old governor, it is true, still went to his church, but he appeared +to be hesitating between two opinions; and once, when he was at dinner, +he said to two or three English friends that, since he had become better +acquainted with it, he had conceived a much more favourable opinion +of the Catholic religion than he had previously entertained. In +a word, the priest ruled the house, and everything was done according +to his will and pleasure; by degrees he persuaded the young ladies to +drop their English acquaintances, whose place he supplied with Italians, +chiefly females. My poor old governor would not have had a person +to speak to - for he never could learn the language - but for two or +three Englishmen who used to come occasionally and take a bottle with +him in a summer-house, whose company he could not be persuaded to resign, +notwithstanding the entreaties of his daughters, instigated by the priest, +whose grand endeavour seemed to be to render the minds of all three +foolish, for his own ends. And if he was busy above stairs with +the governor, there was another busy below with us poor English servants, +a kind of subordinate priest, a low Italian; as he could speak no language +but his own, he was continually jabbering to us in that, and by hearing +him the maids and myself contrived to pick up a good deal of the language, +so that we understood most that was said, and could speak it very fairly; +and the themes of his jabber were the beauty and virtues of one whom +he called Holy Mary, and the power and grandeur of one whom he called +the Holy Father; and he told us that we should shortly have an opportunity +of seeing the Holy Father, who could do anything he liked with Holy +Mary: in the meantime we had plenty of opportunities of seeing Holy +Mary, for in every church, chapel, and convent to which we were taken, +there was an image of Holy Mary, who, if the images were dressed at +all in her fashion, must have been very fond of short petticoats and +tinsel, and who, if those said figures at all resembled her in face, +could scarcely have been half as handsome as either of my two fellow-servants, +not to speak of the young ladies.<br> +<br> +‘Now it happened that one of the female servants was much taken +with what she saw and heard, and gave herself up entirely to the will +of the subordinate, who had quite as much dominion over her as his superior +had over the ladies; the other maid, however, the one who had a kind +of respect for me, was not so easily besotted; she used to laugh at +what she saw, and at what the fellow told her, and from her I learnt +that amongst other things intended by these priestly confederates was +robbery; she said that the poor old governor had already been persuaded +by his daughters to put more than a thousand pounds into the superior +priest’s hands for purposes of charity and religion, as was said, +and that the subordinate one had already inveigled her fellow-servant +out of every penny which she had saved from her wages, and had endeavoured +likewise to obtain what money she herself had, but in vain. With +respect to myself, the fellow shortly after made an attempt towards +obtaining a hundred crowns, of which, by some means, he knew me to be +in possession, telling me what a meritorious thing it was to give one’s +superfluities for the purposes of religion. “That is true,” +said I, “and if, after my return to my native country, I find +I have anything which I don’t want myself, I will employ it in +helping to build a Methodist chapel.”<br> +<br> +‘By the time that the three months were expired for which we had +hired the palace of the needy Prince, the old governor began to talk +of returning to England, at least of leaving Italy. I believe +he had become frightened at the calls which were continually being made +upon him for money; for after all, you know, if there is a sensitive +part of a man’s wearing apparel, it is his breeches pocket; but +the young ladies could not think of leaving dear Italy and the dear +priest; and then they had seen nothing of the country, they had only +seen Naples; before leaving dear Italia they must see more of the country +and the cities; above all, they must see a place which they called the +Eternal City, or some similar nonsensical name; and they persisted so +that the poor governor permitted them, as usual, to have their way; +and it was decided what route they should take - that is, the priest +was kind enough to decide for them, and was also kind enough to promise +to go with them part of the route, as far as a place where there was +a wonderful figure of Holy Mary, which the priest said it was highly +necessary for them to see before visiting the Eternal City: so we left +Naples in hired carriages, driven by fellows they call veturini, cheating, +drunken dogs, I remember they were. Besides our own family there +was the priest and his subordinate, and a couple of hired lackeys. +We were several days upon the journey, travelling through a very wild +country, which the ladies pretended to be delighted with, and which +the governor cursed on account of the badness of the roads; and when +we came to any particularly wild spot we used to stop, in order to enjoy +the scenery, as the ladies said; and then we would spread a horse-cloth +on the ground, and eat bread and cheese, and drink wine of the country. +And some of the holes and corners in which we bivouacked, as the ladies +called it, were something like this place where we are now, so that +when I came down here it put me in mind of them. At last we arrived +at the place where was the holy image.<br> +<br> +‘We went to the house or chapel in which the holy image was kept +- a frightful, ugly black figure of Holy Mary, dressed in her usual +way; and after we had stared at the figure, and some of our party had +bowed down to it, we were shown a great many things which were called +holy relics, which consisted of thumb-nails, and fore-nails, and toe-nails, +and hair, and teeth, and a feather or two, and a mighty thigh-bone, +but whether of a man or a camel I can’t say; all of which things, +I was told, if properly touched and handled, had mighty power to cure +all kinds of disorders. And as we went from the holy house we +saw a man in a state of great excitement: he was foaming at the mouth, +and cursing the holy image and all its household, because, after he +had worshipped it and made offerings to it, and besought it to assist +him in a game of chance which he was about to play, it had left him +in the lurch, allowing him to lose all his money. And when I thought +of all the rubbish I had seen, and the purposes which it was applied +to, in conjunction with the rage of the losing gamester at the deaf +and dumb image, I could not help comparing the whole with what my poor +brother used to tell me of the superstitious practices of the blacks +on the high Barbary shore, and their occasional rage and fury at the +things they worshipped; and I said to myself, If all this here doesn’t +smell of fetish, may I smell fetid.<br> +<br> +‘At this place the priest left us, returning to Naples with his +subordinate, on some particular business I suppose. It was, however, +agreed that he should visit us at the Holy City. We did not go +direct to the Holy City, but bent our course to two or three other cities +which the family were desirous of seeing; but as nothing occurred to +us in these places of any particular interest, I shall take the liberty +of passing them by in silence. At length we arrived at the Eternal +City: an immense city it was, looking as if it had stood for a long +time, and would stand for a long time still; compared with it, London +would look like a mere assemblage of bee-skeps; however, give me the +bee-skeps with their merry hum and bustle, and life and honey, rather +than that huge town, which looked like a sepulchre, where there was +no life, no busy hum, no bees, but a scanty sallow population, intermixed +with black priests, white priests, gray priests; and though I don’t +say there was no honey in the place, for I believe there was, I am ready +to take my Bible oath that it was not made there, and that the priests +kept it all for themselves.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XCIX<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +A cloister - Half English - New acquaintance - Mixed liquors - Turning +Papist - Purposes of charity - Foreign religion - Melancholy - Elbowing +and pushing - Outlandish sight - The figure - I don’t care for +you - Merry-andrews - One good - Religion of my country - Fellow of +spirit - A dispute - The next morning - Female doll - Proper dignity +- Fetish country.<br> +<br> +‘The day after our arrival,’ continued the postilion, ‘I +was sent, under the guidance of a lackey of the place, with a letter, +which the priest, when he left, had given us for a friend of his in +the Eternal City. We went to a large house, and on ringing were +admitted by a porter into a cloister, where I saw some ill-looking, +shabby young fellows walking about, who spoke English to one another. +To one of these the porter delivered the letter, and the young fellow, +going away, presently returned and told me to follow him; he led me +into a large room where, behind a table on which were various papers +and a thing which they call, in that country, a crucifix, sat a man +in a kind of priestly dress. The lad having opened the door for +me, shut it behind me, and went away. The man behind the table +was so engaged in reading the letter which I had brought, that at first +he took no notice of me; he had red hair, a kind of half-English countenance, +and was seemingly about five-and-thirty. After a little time he +laid the letter down, appeared to consider a moment, and then opened +his mouth with a strange laugh, not a loud laugh, for I heard nothing +but a kind of hissing deep down the throat; all of a sudden, however, +perceiving me, he gave a slight start, but, instantly recovering himself, +he inquired in English concerning the health of the family, and where +we lived: on my delivering him a card, he bade me inform my master and +the ladies that in the course of the day he would do himself the honour +of waiting upon them. He then arose and opened the door for me +to depart. The man was perfectly civil and courteous, but I did +not like that strange laugh of his after having read the letter. +He was as good as his word, and that same day paid us a visit. +It was now arranged that we should pass the winter in Rome - to my great +annoyance, for I wished to return to my native land, being heartily +tired of everything connected with Italy. I was not, however, +without hope that our young master would shortly arrive, when I trusted +that matters, as far as the family were concerned, would be put on a +better footing. In a few days our new acquaintance, who, it seems, +was a mongrel Englishman, had procured a house for our accommodation; +it was large enough, but not near so pleasant as that we had at Naples, +which was light and airy, with a large garden. This was a dark +gloomy structure in a narrow street, with a frowning church beside it; +it was not far from the place where our new friend lived, and its being +so was probably the reason why he selected it. It was furnished +partly with articles which we bought, and partly with those which we +hired. We lived something in the same way as at Naples; but though +I did not much like Naples, I yet liked it better than this place, which +was so gloomy. Our new acquaintance made himself as agreeable +as he could, conducting the ladies to churches and convents, and frequently +passing the afternoon drinking with the governor, who was fond of a +glass of brandy and water and a cigar, as the new acquaintance also +was - no, I remember, he was fond of gin and water, and did not smoke. +I don’t think he had so much influence over the young ladies as +the other priest, which was, perhaps, owing to his not being so good-looking; +but I am sure he had more influence with the governor, owing, doubtless, +to his bearing him company in drinking mixed liquors, which the other +priest did not do.<br> +<br> +‘He was a strange fellow, that same new acquaintance of ours, +and unlike all the priests I saw in that country, and I saw plenty of +various nations; they were always upon their guard, and had their features +and voice modulated; but this man was subject to fits of absence, during +which he would frequently mutter to himself, then, though he was perfectly +civil to everybody, as far as words went, I observed that he entertained +a thorough contempt for most people, especially for those whom he was +making dupes. I have observed him whilst drinking with our governor, +when the old man’s head was turned, look at him with an air which +seemed to say, “What a thundering old fool you are”; and +at our young ladies, when their backs were turned, with a glance which +said distinctly enough, “You precious pair of ninnyhammers”; +and then his laugh - he had two kinds of laughs - one which you could +hear, and another which you could only see. I have seen him laugh +at our governor and the young ladies, when their heads were turned away, +but I heard no sound. My mother had a sandy cat, which sometimes +used to open its mouth wide with a mew which nobody could hear, and +the silent laugh of that red-haired priest used to put me wonderfully +in mind of the silent mew of my mother’s sandy-red cat. +And then the other laugh, which you could hear; what a strange laugh +that was, never loud, yes, I have heard it tolerably loud. He +once passed near me, after having taken leave of a silly English fellow +- a limping parson of the name of Platitude, who, they said, was thinking +of turning Papist, and was much in his company; I was standing behind +the pillar of a piazza, and as he passed he was laughing heartily. +O he was a strange fellow, that same red-haired acquaintance of ours!<br> +<br> +‘After we had been at Rome about six weeks our old friend the +priest of Naples arrived, but without his subordinate, for whose services +he now perhaps thought that he had no occasion. I believe he found +matters in our family wearing almost as favourable an aspect as he could +desire: with what he had previously taught them and shown them at Naples +and elsewhere, and with what the red-haired confederate had taught them +and shown them at Rome, the poor young ladies had become quite handmaids +of superstition, so that they, especially the youngest, were prepared +to bow down to anything, and kiss anything, however vile and ugly, provided +a priest commanded them; and as for the old governor, what with the +influence which his daughters exerted, and what with the ascendency +which the red-haired man had obtained over him, he dared not say his +purse, far less his soul, was his own. Only think of an Englishman +not being master of his own purse! My acquaintance, the lady’s +maid, assured me that, to her certain knowledge, he had disbursed to +the red-haired man, for purposes of charity, as it was said, at least +one thousand pounds during the five weeks we had been at Rome. +She also told me that things would shortly be brought to a conclusion +- and so indeed they were, though in a different manner from what she +and I and some other people imagined; that there was to be a grand festival, +and a mass, at which we were to be present, after which the family were +to be presented to the Holy Father, for so those two priestly sharks +had managed it; and then . . . she said she was certain that the two +ladies, and perhaps the old governor, would forsake the religion of +their native land, taking up with that of these foreign regions, for +so my fellow-servant expressed it, and that perhaps attempts might be +made to induce us poor English servants to take up with the foreign +religion, that is herself and me, for as for our fellow-servant, the +other maid, she wanted no inducing, being disposed body and soul to +go over to it. Whereupon I swore with an oath that nothing should +induce me to take up with the foreign religion; and the poor maid, my +fellow-servant, bursting into tears, said that for her part she would +die sooner than have anything to do with it; thereupon we shook hands +and agreed to stand by and countenance one another: and moreover, provided +our governors were fools enough to go over to the religion of these +here foreigners, we would not wait to be asked to do the like, but leave +them at once, and make the best of our way home, even if we were forced +to beg on the road.<br> +<br> +‘At last the day of the grand festival came, and we were all to +go to the big church to hear the mass. Now it happened that for +some time past I had been much afflicted with melancholy, especially +when I got up of a morning, produced by the strange manner in which +I saw things going on in our family; and to dispel it in some degree, +I had been in the habit of taking a dram before breakfast. On +the morning in question, feeling particularly low spirited when I thought +of the foolish step our governor would probably take before evening, +I took two drams before breakfast; and after breakfast, feeling my melancholy +still continuing, I took another, which produced a slight effect upon +my head, though I am convinced nobody observed it.<br> +<br> +‘Away we drove to the big church; it was a dark misty day, I remember, +and very cold, so that if anybody had noticed my being slightly in liquor, +I could have excused myself by saying that I had merely taken a glass +to fortify my constitution against the weather; and of one thing I am +certain, which is, that such an excuse would have stood me in stead +with our governor, who looked, I thought, as if he had taken one too; +but I may be mistaken, and why should I notice him, seeing that he took +no notice of me? so away we drove to the big church, to which all the +population of the place appeared to be moving.<br> +<br> +‘On arriving there we dismounted, and the two priests, who were +with us, led the family in, whilst I followed at a little distance, +but quickly lost them amidst the throng of people. I made my way, +however, though in what direction I knew not, except it was one in which +everybody seemed striving, and by dint of elbowing and pushing I at +last got to a place which looked like the aisle of a cathedral, where +the people stood in two rows, a space between being kept open by certain +strangely-dressed men who moved up and down with rods in their hands; +all were looking to the upper end of this place or aisle; and at the +upper end, separated from the people by palings like those of an altar, +sat in magnificent-looking stalls, on the right and the left, various +wonderful-looking individuals in scarlet dresses. At the farther +end was what appeared to be an altar, on the left hand was a pulpit, +and on the right a stall higher than any of the rest, where was a figure +whom I could scarcely see.<br> +<br> +‘I can’t pretend to describe what I saw exactly, for my +head, which was at first rather flurried, had become more so from the +efforts which I had made to get through the crowd; also from certain +singing, which proceeded from I know not where; and, above all, from +the bursts of an organ, which were occasionally so loud that I thought +the roof, which was painted with wondrous colours, would come toppling +down on those below. So there stood I - a poor English servant +- in that outlandish place, in the midst of that foreign crowd, looking +at that outlandish sight, hearing those outlandish sounds, and occasionally +glancing at our party, which, by this time, I distinguished at the opposite +side to where I stood, but much nearer the place where the red figures +sat. Yes, there stood our poor governor and the sweet young ladies, +and I thought they never looked so handsome before; and close by them +were the sharking priests, and not far from them was that idiotical +parson Platitude, winking and grinning, and occasionally lifting up +his hands as if in ecstasy at what he saw and heard, so that he drew +upon himself the notice of the congregation.<br> +<br> +‘And now an individual mounted the pulpit, and began to preach +in a language which I did not understand, but which I believe to be +Latin, addressing himself seemingly to the figure in the stall; and +when he had ceased, there was more singing, more organ-playing, and +then two men in robes brought forth two things which they held up; and +then the people bowed their heads, and our poor governor bowed his head, +and the sweet young ladies bowed their heads, and the sharking priests, +whilst the idiotical parson Platitude tried to fling himself down; and +then there were various evolutions withinside the pale, and the scarlet +figures got up and sat down; and this kind of thing continued for some +time. At length the figure which I had seen in the principal stall +came forth and advanced towards the people; an awful figure he was, +a huge old man with a sugar-loaf hat, with a sulphur-coloured dress, +and holding a crook in his hand like that of a shepherd; and as he advanced +the people fell on their knees, our poor old governor amongst them; +the sweet young ladies, the sharking priests, the idiotical parson Platitude, +all fell on their knees, and somebody or other tried to pull me on my +knees; but by this time I had become outrageous; all that my poor brother +used to tell me of the superstitions of the high Barbary shore rushed +into my mind, and I thought they were acting them over here; above all, +the idea that the sweet young ladies, to say nothing of my poor old +governor, were, after the conclusion of all this mummery, going to deliver +themselves up body and soul into the power of that horrid-looking old +man, maddened me, and, rushing forward into the open space, I confronted +the horrible-looking old figure with the sugar-loaf hat, the sulphur-coloured +garments, and shepherd’s crook, and shaking my fist at his nose, +I bellowed out in English -<br> +<br> +‘“I don’t care for you, old Mumbo Jumbo, though you +have fetish!”<br> +<br> +‘I can scarcely tell you what occurred for some time. I +have a dim recollection that hands were laid upon me, and that I struck +out violently left and right. On coming to myself, I was seated +on a stone bench in a large room, something like a guard-room, in the +custody of certain fellows dressed like Merry-andrews; they were bluff, +good-looking, wholesome fellows, very different from the sallow Italians: +they were looking at me attentively, and occasionally talking to each +other in a language which sounded very like the cracking of walnuts +in the mouth, very different from cooing Italian. At last one +of them asked me in Italian what had ailed me, to which I replied, in +an incoherent manner, something about Mumbo Jumbo; whereupon the fellow, +one of the bluffest of the lot, a jovial rosy-faced rascal, lifted up +his right hand, placing it in such a manner that the lips were between +the fore-finger and thumb, then lifting up his right foot and drawing +back his head, he sucked in his breath with a hissing sound, as if to +imitate one drinking a hearty draught, and then slapped me on the shoulder, +saying something which sounded like goot wine, goot companion, whereupon +they all laughed, exclaiming, ya, ya, goot companion. And now +hurried into the room our poor old governor, with the red-haired priest. +The first asked what could have induced me to behave in such a manner +in such a place, to which I replied that I was not going to bow down +to Mumbo Jumbo, whatever other people might do. Whereupon my master +said he believed I was mad, and the priest said he believed I was drunk; +to which I answered that I was neither so mad nor drunk but I could +distinguish how the wind lay. Whereupon they left me, and in a +little time I was told by the bluff-looking Merry-andrews I was at liberty +to depart. I believe the priest, in order to please my governor, +interceded for me in high quarters.<br> +<br> +‘But one good resulted from this affair; there was no presentation +of our family to the Holy Father, for old Mumbo was so frightened by +my outrageous looks that he was laid up for a week, as I was afterwards +informed.<br> +<br> +‘I went home, and had scarcely been there half an hour when I +was sent for by the governor, who again referred to the scene in church, +said that he could not tolerate such scandalous behaviour, and that +unless I promised to be more circumspect in future, he should be compelled +to discharge me. I said that if he was scandalised at my behaviour +in the church, I was more scandalised at all I saw going on in the family, +which was governed by two rascally priests, who, not content with plundering +him, appeared bent on hurrying the souls of us all to destruction; and +that with respect to discharging me, he could do so that moment, as +I wished to go. I believe his own reason told him that I was right, +for he made no direct answer, but, after looking on the ground for some +time, he told me to leave him. As he did not tell me to leave +the house, I went to my room, intending to lie down for an hour or two; +but scarcely was I there when the door opened, and in came the red-haired +priest. He showed himself, as he always did, perfectly civil, +asked me how I was, took a chair and sat down. After a hem or +two he entered into a long conversation on the excellence of what he +called the Catholic religion; told me that he hoped I would not set +myself against the light, and likewise against my interest; for that +the family were about to embrace the Catholic religion, and would make +it worth my while to follow their example. I told him that the +family might do what they pleased, but that I would never forsake the +religion of my country for any consideration whatever; that I was nothing +but a poor servant, but I was not to be bought by base gold. “I +admire your honourable feelings,” said he, “you shall have +no gold; and as I see you are a fellow of spirit, and do not like being +a servant, for which I commend you, I can promise you something better. +I have a good deal of influence in this place, and if you will not set +your face against the light, but embrace the Catholic religion, I will +undertake to make your fortune. You remember those fine fellows +to-day who took you into custody, they are the guards of his Holiness. +I have no doubt that I have interest enough to procure your enrolment +amongst them.” “What,” said I, “become +swashbuckler to Mumbo Jumbo up here! May I . . .” - and +here I swore - “if I do. The mere possibility of one of +their children being swashbuckler to Mumbo Jumbo on the high Barbary +shore has always been a source of heart-breaking to my poor parents. +What, then, would they not undergo, if they knew for certain that their +other child was swashbuckler to Mumbo Jumbo up here?” Thereupon +he asked me, even as you did some time ago, what I meant by Mumbo Jumbo. +And I told him all I had heard about the Mumbo Jumbo of the high Barbary +shore; telling him that I had no doubt that the old fellow up here was +his brother, or nearly related to him. The man with the red hair +listened with the greatest attention to all I said, and when I had concluded, +he got up, nodded to me, and moved to the door; ere he reached the door +I saw his shoulders shaking, and as he closed it behind him I heard +him distinctly laughing, to the tune of - he! he! he!<br> +<br> +‘But now matters began to mend. That same evening my young +master unexpectedly arrived. I believe he soon perceived that +something extraordinary had been going on in the family. He was +for some time closeted with the governor, with whom, I believe, he had +a dispute; for my fellow-servant, the lady’s maid, informed me +that she heard high words.<br> +<br> +‘Rather late at night the young gentleman sent for me into his +room, and asked me various questions with respect to what had been going +on, and my behaviour in the church, of which he had heard something. +I told him all I knew with respect to the intrigues of the two priests +in the family, and gave him a circumstantial account of all that had +occurred in the church; adding that, under similar circumstances, I +was ready to play the same part over again. Instead of blaming +me, he commended my behaviour, told me I was a fine fellow, and said +he hoped that, if he wanted my assistance, I would stand by him: this +I promised to do. Before I left him, he entreated me to inform +him the very next time I saw the priests entering the house.<br> +<br> +‘The next morning, as I was in the courtyard, where I had placed +myself to watch, I saw the two enter and make their way up a private +stair to the young ladies’ apartment; they were attended by a +man dressed something like a priest, who bore a large box; I instantly +ran to relate what I had seen to my young master. I found him +shaving. “I will just finish what I am about,” said +he, “and then wait upon these gentlemen.” He finished +what he was about with great deliberation; then taking a horsewhip, +and bidding me follow him, he proceeded at once to the door of his sisters’ +apartment: finding it fastened, he burst it open at once with his foot +and entered, followed by myself. There we beheld the two unfortunate +young ladies down on their knees before a large female doll, dressed +up, as usual, in rags and tinsel; the two priests were standing near, +one on either side, with their hands uplifted, whilst the fellow who +brought the trumpery stood a little way down the private stair, the +door of which stood open; without a moment’s hesitation, my young +master rushed forward, gave the image a cut or two with his horsewhip +- then flying at the priests, he gave them a sound flogging, kicked +them down the private stair, and spurned the man, box and image after +them - then locking the door, he gave his sisters a fine sermon, in +which he represented to them their folly in worshipping a silly wooden +graven image, which, though it had eyes, could see not; though it had +ears, could hear not; though it had hands, could not help itself; and +though it had feet, could not move about unless it were carried. +Oh, it was a fine sermon that my young master preached, and sorry I +am that the Father of the Fetish, old Mumbo, did not hear it. +The elder sister looked ashamed, but the youngest, who was very weak, +did nothing but wring her hands, weep and bewail the injury which had +been done to the dear image. The young man, however, without paying +much regard to either of them, went to his father, with whom he had +a long conversation, which terminated in the old governor giving orders +for preparations to be made for the family’s leaving Rome and +returning to England. I believe that the old governor was glad +of his son’s arrival, and rejoiced at the idea of getting away +from Italy, where he had been so plundered and imposed upon. The +priests, however, made another attempt upon the poor young ladies. +By the connivance of the female servant who was in their interest they +found their way once more into their apartment, bringing with them the +fetish image, whose body they partly stripped, exhibiting upon it certain +sanguine marks which they had daubed upon it with red paint, but which +they said were the result of the lashes which it had received from the +horsewhip. The youngest girl believed all they said, and kissed +and embraced the dear image; but the eldest, whose eyes had been opened +by her brother, to whom she was much attached, behaved with proper dignity; +for, going to the door, she called the female servant who had a respect +for me, and in her presence reproached the two deceivers for their various +impudent cheats, and especially for this their last attempt at imposition; +adding that if they did not forthwith withdraw and rid her sister and +herself of their presence, she would send word by her maid to her brother, +who would presently take effectual means to expel them. They took +the hint and departed, and we saw no more of them.<br> +<br> +‘At the end of three days we departed from Rome, but the maid +whom the priests had cajoled remained behind, and it is probable that +the youngest of our ladies would have done the same thing if she could +have had her own will, for she was continually raving about her image, +and saying she should wish to live with it in a convent; but we watched +the poor thing, and got her on board ship. Oh, glad was I to leave +that fetish country and old Mumbo behind me!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER C<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Nothing but gloom - Sporting character - Gouty Tory - Servants’ +Club - Politics - Reformado footman - Peroration - Good-night.<br> +<br> +‘We arrived in England, and went to our country seat, but the +peace and tranquillity of the family had been marred, and I no longer +found my place the pleasant one which it had formerly been; there was +nothing but gloom in the house, for the youngest daughter exhibited +signs of lunacy, and was obliged to be kept under confinement. +The next season I attended my master, his son, and eldest daughter to +London, as I had previously done. There I left them, for hearing +that a young baronet, an acquaintance of the family, wanted a servant, +I applied for the place, with the consent of my masters, both of whom +gave me a strong recommendation; and, being approved of, I went to live +with him.<br> +<br> +‘My new master was what is called a sporting character, very fond +of the turf, upon which he was not very fortunate. He was frequently +very much in want of money, and my wages were anything but regularly +paid; nevertheless, I liked him very much, for he treated me more like +a friend than a domestic, continually consulting me as to his affairs. +At length he was brought nearly to his last shifts, by backing the favourite +at the Derby, which favourite turned out a regular brute, being found +nowhere at the rush. Whereupon, he and I had a solemn consultation +over fourteen glasses of brandy and water, and as many cigars - I mean, +between us - as to what was to be done. He wished to start a coach, +in which event he was to be driver, and I guard. He was quite +competent to drive a coach, being a first-rate whip, and I daresay I +should have made a first-rate guard; but, to start a coach requires +money, and we neither of us believed that anybody would trust us with +vehicles and horses, so that idea was laid aside. We then debated +as to whether or not he should go into the Church; but to go into the +Church - at any rate to become a dean or bishop, which would have been +our aim - it is necessary for a man to possess some education; and my +master, although he had been at the best school in England, that is, +the most expensive, and also at College, was almost totally illiterate, +so we let the Church scheme follow that of the coach. At last, +bethinking me that he was tolerably glib at the tongue, as most people +are who are addicted to the turf, also a great master of slang; remembering +also that he had a crabbed old uncle, who had some borough interest, +I proposed that he should get into the House, promising in one fortnight +to qualify him to make a figure in it, by certain lessons which I would +give him. He consented; and during the next fortnight I did little +else than give him lessons in elocution, following to a tittle the method +of the great professor, which I had picked up, listening behind the +door. At the end of that period we paid a visit to his relation, +an old gouty Tory, who at first received us very coolly. My master, +however, by flattering a predilection of his for Billy Pitt, soon won +his affections so much that he promised to bring him into Parliament; +and in less than a month was as good as his word. My master, partly +by his own qualifications, and partly by the assistance which he had +derived, and still occasionally derived, from me, cut a wonderful figure +in the House, and was speedily considered one of the most promising +speakers; he was always a good hand at promising - he is at present, +I believe, a Cabinet minister.<br> +<br> +‘But as he got up in the world he began to look down on me. +I believe he was ashamed of the obligation under which he lay to me; +and at last, requiring no further hints as to oratory from a poor servant +like me, he took an opportunity of quarrelling with me and discharging +me. However, as he had still some grace, he recommended me to +a gentleman with whom, since he had attached himself to politics, he +had formed an acquaintance, the editor of a grand Tory Review. +I lost caste terribly amongst the servants for entering the service +of a person connected with a profession so mean as literature; and it +was proposed at the Servants’ Club, in Park Lane, to eject me +from that society. The proposition, however, was not carried into +effect, and I was permitted to show myself among them, though few condescended +to take much notice of me. My master was one of the best men in +the world, but also one of the most sensitive. On his veracity +being impugned by the editor of a newspaper, he called him out, and +shot him through the arm. Though servants are seldom admirers +of their masters, I was a great admirer of mine, and eager to follow +his example. The day after the encounter, on my veracity being +impugned by the servant of Lord C- in something I said in praise of +my master, I determined to call him out; so I went into another room +and wrote a challenge. But whom should I send it by? Several +servants to whom I applied refused to be the bearers of it; they said +I had lost caste, and they could not think of going out with me. +At length the servant of the Duke of B- consented to take it; but he +made me to understand that, though he went out with me, he did so merely +because he despised the Whiggish principles of Lord C-‘s servant, +and that if I thought he intended to associate with me I should be mistaken. +Politics, I must tell you, at that time ran as high amongst the servants +as the gentlemen, the servants, however, being almost invariably opposed +to the politics of their respective masters, though both parties agreed +in one point, the scouting of everything low and literary, though I +think, of the two, the liberal or reform party were the most inveterate. +So he took my challenge, which was accepted; we went out, Lord C-’s +servant being seconded by a reformado footman from the palace. +We fired three times without effect; but this affair lost me my place; +my master on hearing it forthwith discharged me; he was, as I have said +before, very sensitive, and he said this duel of mine was a parody of +his own. Being, however, one of the best men in the world, on +his discharging me he made me a donation of twenty pounds.<br> +<br> +‘And it was well that he made me this present, for without it +I should have been penniless, having contracted rather expensive habits +during the time that I lived with the young baronet. I now determined +to visit my parents, whom I had not seen for years. I found them +in good health, and, after staying with them for two months, I returned +again in the direction of town, walking, in order to see the country. +On the second day of my journey, not being used to such fatigue, I fell +ill at a great inn on the north road, and there I continued for some +weeks till I recovered, but by that time my money was entirely spent. +By living at the inn I had contracted an acquaintance with the master +and the people, and become accustomed to inn life. As I thought +that I might find some difficulty in procuring any desirable situation +in London, owing to my late connection with literature, I determined +to remain where I was, provided my services would be accepted. +I offered them to the master, who, finding I knew something of horses, +engaged me as a postilion. I have remained there since. +You have now heard my story.<br> +<br> +‘Stay, you shan’t say that I told my tale without a per +- peroration. What shall it be? Oh, I remember something +which will serve for one. As I was driving my chaise some weeks +ago, I saw standing at the gate of an avenue, which led up to an old +mansion, a figure which I thought I recognised. I looked at it +attentively, and the figure, as I passed, looked at me; whether it remembered +me I do not know, but I recognised the face it showed me full well.<br> +<br> +‘If it was not the identical face of the red-haired priest whom +I had seen at Rome, may I catch cold!<br> +<br> +‘Young gentleman, I will now take a spell on your blanket - young +lady, good-night.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, LAVENGRO ***<br> +<pre> + +******This file should be named lvgro10h.htm or lvgro10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, lvgro11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, lvgro10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext04 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext04 + +Or /etext03, 02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart hart@pobox.com + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* +</pre></body> +</html> |