Lavengro, The Scholar, The Gypsy, The Priest

'What do you see above you?'
'The sky.'
'Well?'
'Well!'
'Have you anything to say?'
'How did these stones come here?'
'Are there other stones like these on the plains?' said I.
'None; and yet there are plenty of strange things on these downs.'
'What are they?'
'Strange heaps, and barrows, and great walls of earth built on the
tops of hills.'
'Do the people of the plain wonder how they came there?'
'They do not.'
'Why?'
'They were raised by hands.'
'And these stones?'
'How did they ever come here?'
'I wonder whether they are here?' said I.
'These stones?'
'Yes.'
'So sure as the world,' said the man; 'and, as the world, they will
stand as long.'
'I wonder whether there is a world.'
'What do you mean?'
'An earth, and sea, moon and stars, sheep and men.'
'Do you doubt it?'
'Sometimes.'
'I never heard it doubted before.'
'It is impossible there should be a world.'
'It ain't possible there shouldn't be a world.'
'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.
'Why do you suppose so?'
'Because, so be there be no sheep, no milk, you know; and what
there ben't is not worth having.'
'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.'
'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.
'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?'
'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.'
'I must go to it,' said I, and I drank the remainder of the milk;
'yonder, you say.'
'Yes, yonder; but you cannot get to it in that direction, the river
lies between.'
'What river?'
'The Avon.'
'Avon is British,' said I.
'Yes,' said the man, 'we are all British here.'
'No, we are not,' said I.
'What are we then?'
'English.'
'Ain't they one?'
'No.'
'Who were the British?'
'The men who are supposed to have worshipped God in this place, and
who raised these stones.'
'Where are they now?'
'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.'
'Yes, they did,' said the shepherd, looking aloft at the transverse
stone.
'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.'
'I won't have it,' said the man.
'Why not?'
'You talk so prettily about these stones; you seem to know all
about them.'
'I never receive presents; with respect to the stones, I say with
yourself, How did they ever come here?'
'How did they ever come here?' said the shepherd.
CHAPTER LXI
The river - Arid downs - A prospect.
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.
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.
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.
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.
CHAPTER LXII
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.
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.
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.
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?'
He was dressed like a sailor, and appeared to be between twentyfive
and thirty years of age - he had an open manly countenance,
and there was a bold and fearless expression in his eye.
'Yes,' said I, in reply to his question; 'this is one of the ways
to London. Do you come from far?'
'From -,' said the man, naming a well-known seaport.
'Is this the direct road to London from that place?' I demanded.
'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.'
'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.'
'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.'
'What is that?' said I.
'That honesty is the best policy, master.'
'You appear to be a sailor,' said I, looking at his dress.
'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.'
'From America?' said I.
'Farther than that,' said the man.
'Have you any objection to tell me?' said I.
'From New South Wales,' said the man, looking me full in the face.
'Dear me,' said I.
'Why do you say "Dear me"?' said the man.
'It is a very long way off,' said I.
'Was that your reason for saying so?' said the man.
'Not exactly,' said I.
'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.'
'Well,' said I, 'what then - you are no convict.'
'How do you know?'
'You do not look like one.'
'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.'
'And you have served out the period for which you were sentenced,
and are now returned?'
'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.'
'And you have now returned to your native country. Longing to see
home brought you from New South Wales.'
'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.'
'You have a mother, then?' said I. 'Does she reside in London?'
'She used to live in London,' said the man; 'but I am afraid she is
long since dead.'
'How did she support herself?' said I.
'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.'
'Did you ever write to her,' said I, 'or cause others to write to
her?'
'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.'
'Life is very uncertain,' said I.
'That is true,' said the man, with a sigh.
'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?'
'Who knows, indeed?' said the man. 'Ah, I am afraid my mother is
dead. Well, God's will be done.'
'However,' said I, 'I should not wonder at your finding your mother
alive.'
'You wouldn't?' said the man, looking at me wistfully.
'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 - '
'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.'
'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?'
'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 - '
'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.
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?'
CHAPTER LXIII
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.
'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.'
'I am hot and dusty,' said I, 'and should wish to cool my hands and
face.'
'Jenny!' said the huge landlord, with the utmost gravity, 'show the
gentleman into number seven, that he may wash his hands and face.'
'By no means,' said I, 'I am a person of primitive habits, and
there is nothing like the pump in weather like this.'
'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.'
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.
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.
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.'
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.
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.'
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.
I sat down by a window which looked out upon the dusty street;
presently in came the handmaid, and commenced laying the tablecloth.
'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.'
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.
'The weather is very warm, sir,' said I.
'Very,' said the stranger, laconically, looking at me for the first
time.
'Would you like to see the newspaper?' said I, taking up one which
lay upon the window seat.
'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.
'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.'
'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.'
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.
'Are you from these parts?' said I at last, with apparent
carelessness.
'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?'
'I, at least, am walking in that hope,' said I.
'I wish you may be successful,' said the stranger; and here he
touched one of the forks which lay on the table near him.
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?'
'Is the young gentleman expecting an acquaintance?' said the
stranger.
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 tablecloth
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.'
The stranger laughed outright.
'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.'
The stranger changed colour, and gazed upon me in silence.
'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.'
'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.'
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.
'Do you hope, sir,' said I, 'by that ceremony with the finger to
preserve yourself from the evil chance?'
The stranger started; then, after looking at me for some time in
silence, he said, 'Is it possible that you - ?'
'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.'
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.'
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.'
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.'
'Who is that gentleman?' said I to the landlord, after I had
settled his bill; 'I am going home with him.'
'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.'
CHAPTER LXIV
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.
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.'
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.
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.
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?'
'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.'
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.
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.
It grew dark, and I became uncomfortable. 'I must presently be
going,' I at last exclaimed.
At these words he gave a sudden start; 'Going,' said he, 'are you
not my guest, and an honoured one?'
'You know best,' said I; 'but I was apprehensive I was an intruder;
to several of my questions you have returned no answer.'
'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 - '
'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.'
'You would do right, the yew is indeed a venerable tree, but it is
not about the yew.'
'The star Jupiter, perhaps?'
'Nor the star Jupiter, nor its moons; an observation which escaped
you at the inn has made a considerable impression upon me.'
'But I really must take my departure,' said I; 'the dark hour is at
hand.'
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.
'You allude to the evil chance,' said I; 'but it is getting both
dark and late.'
'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.'
'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.'
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.
'Will you allow me to ask you a question or two?' said he at last.
'As many as you please,' said I; 'but shall we not have lights?'
'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 - '
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.'
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.
'Before proceeding to relate the events of my life, it will not be
amiss to give you some account of my ancestors. My greatgrandfather
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 today,
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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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?
'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.
'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.
'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 goodnatured
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.
'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.
'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.
'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.'
CHAPTER LXV
Maternal anxiety - The baronet - Little zest - Country life - Mr.
Speaker! - The craving - Spirited address - An author.
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 ahunting
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.
'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.
'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.
'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?
'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?
'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.
'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.'
CHAPTER LXVI
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.
'AN author,' said I, addressing my host; 'is it possible that I am
under the roof of an author?'
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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 saddlegirths,
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.
'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.'
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.
'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?'
'Certainly,' said my host.
'Did you never speak in public?' said I.
'Never.'
'And when you made this speech of yours in the dining-room,
commencing with Mr. Speaker, no one was present?'
'None in the world, I double-locked the door; what do you mean?'
'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?'
'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 - '
'I understand you,' said I; 'notwithstanding your troubles and
anxieties you find life very tolerable; has your originality ever
been called in question?'
'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!'
'A very rascally newspaper,' said I.
CHAPTER LXVII
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.
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.
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.
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.'
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.
'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.'
'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.'
'But how did you obtain it?' said I.
'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.'
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!'
'I suppose,' said my host, 'that the repeal of the Test Acts will
be merely a precursor of the emancipation of the Papists?'
'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.'
'And yet you would not tolerate Dissenters?'
'Dissenters, my dear sir; I hope you would not class such a set as
the Dissenters with Catholics?'
'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?'
'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.'
'Of course you would admit there were such as long as they existed;
but how would you get rid of them?'
'I would have the Church exert its authority.'
'What do you mean by exerting its authority?'
'I would not have the Church bear the sword in vain.'
'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?'
'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.'
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.'
When I awoke from my reverie the Reverend Mr. Platitude was
quitting the apartment.
'Who is that person?' said I to my entertainer, as the door closed
behind him.
'Who is he?' said my host; 'why, the Reverend Mr. Platitude.'
'Does he reside in this neighbourhood?'
'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.'
'Of what religion are you?' said I to my host.
'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.'
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.'
'Whither are you going?'
'I do not know.'
'Stay here, then - you shall be welcome as many days, months, and
years as you please to stay.'
'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.'
I retired to my apartment and collected the handful of things which
I carried with me on my travels.
'I will walk a little way with you,' said my friend on my return.
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?'
'I have my fears,' said my friend, advancing his hand to one of the
iron bars of the gate.
'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.'
'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.'
'Farewell,' said I, 'and may you prosper. I have nothing more to
say.'
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.
'He has been touching,' said I, as I proceeded on my way; 'I wonder
what was the evil chance he wished to baffle.'
CHAPTER LXVIII
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.
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.
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 prettylooking
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.
'House!' said I; 'House!' and then, as nobody appeared, I cried
again as loud as I could, 'House! do you hear me, House!'
'What's your pleasure, young man?' said an elderly woman, who now
made her appearance from a side apartment.
'To taste your ale,' said I.
'How much?' said the woman, stretching out her hand towards the
empty mug upon the table.
'The largest measure-full in your house,' said I, putting back her
hand gently. 'This is not the season for half-pint mugs.'
'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.
'Will this pay for it?' said I, putting down sixpence.
'I have to return you a penny,' said the landlady, putting her hand
into her pocket.
'I want no change,' said I, flourishing my hand with an air.
'As you please, young gentleman,' said the landlady, and then,
making a kind of curtsey, she again retired to the side apartment.
'Here is your health, sir,' said I to the grimy-looking man, as I
raised the pitcher to my lips.
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.
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.
'You had better mend your draught,' said I to the tinker; 'it is a
sad heart that never rejoices.'
'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.
'Pass it to your wife,' said I.
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.
In about five minutes none of the family looked half so
disconsolate as before, and the tinker and I were in deep
discourse.
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.
'Well,' said the tinker, after we had discoursed some time, 'little
thought, when I first saw you, that you were of my own trade.'
MYSELF. Nor am I, at least not exactly. There is not much
difference, 'tis true, between a tinker and a smith.
TINKER. You are a whitesmith then?
MYSELF. 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.
TINKER. Well, I shouldn't have thought you had been a blacksmith
by your hands.
MYSELF. I have seen them, however, as black as yours. The truth
is, I have not worked for many a day.
TINKER. Where did you serve first?
MYSELF. In Ireland.
TINKER. That's a good way off, isn't it?
MYSELF. Not very far; over those mountains to the left, and the
run of salt water that lies behind them, there's Ireland.
TINKER. It's a fine thing to be a scholar.
MYSELF. Not half so fine as to be a tinker.
TINKER. How you talk!
MYSELF. 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?
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.
MYSELF. What's the matter with you; what are you all crying about?
TINKER (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.
MYSELF. Give it up! you must not think of such a thing.
TINKER. 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.
MYSELF. Who has driven you off the roads?
TINKER. Who! the Flaming Tinman.
MYSELF. Who is he?
TINKER. 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) . . .
MYSELF. 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.
TINKER. 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?
MYSELF. I really don't know - something horrible, I suppose.
TINKER. 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 -
MYSELF. Take another draught - stout liquor -
TINKER. I can't, young man, my heart's too full, and what's more,
the pitcher is empty.
MYSELF. And so he swore you, I suppose, on the Bible, to quit the
roads?
TINKER. You are right, he did so, the gypsy villain.
MYSELF. Gypsy! Is he a gypsy?
TINKER. Not exactly; what they call a half-and-half. His father
was a gypsy, and his mother, like mine, one who walked the roads.
MYSELF. Is he of the Smiths - the Petulengres?
TINKER. 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.
MYSELF. And what are you going to do?
TINKER. 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.
MYSELF. And what do you mean to do with your horse and cart?
TINKER. 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.
MYSELF. But why don't you sell your horse and cart?
TINKER. 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?
MYSELF. I'm half inclined to buy your cart and pony, and your beat
too.
TINKER. You! How came you to think of such a thing?
MYSELF. 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?
TINKER. 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.
MYSELF. Why?
TINKER. Why! you would get your head knocked off. Suppose you
were to meet him?
MYSELF. 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.
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?'
'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 - '
MYSELF. 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?
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.
'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.'
CHAPTER LXIX
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.
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.
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.
'What a difference!' said I, getting up; 'last night I was feted 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.'
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
CHAPTER LXX
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
'The Rommany chi
And the Rommany chal
Shall jaw tasaulor
To drab the bawlor,
And dook the gry
Of the farming rye.'
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.
'All alone here, brother?' said a voice close by me, in sharp but
not disagreeable tones.
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.
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.
'All alone here, brother?' said the girl, as I looked up; 'all
alone here, in the lane; where are your wife and children?'
'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!'
'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.'
'Then you don't like me?'
'Neither like you nor dislike you, brother; what will you have for
that kekaubi?'
'What's the use of talking to me in that unchristian way; what do
you mean, young gentlewoman?'
'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.'
'Three-and-sixpence, young gentlewoman; isn't it well mended?'
'Well mended! I could have done it better myself; three-andsixpence!
it's only fit to be played at football with.'
'I will take no less for it, young gentlewoman; it has caused me a
world of trouble.'
'I never saw a worse mended kettle. I say, brother, your hair is
white.'
"Tis nature; your hair is black; nature, nothing but nature.'
'I am young, brother; my hair is black - that's nature: you are
young, brother; your hair is white - that's not nature.'
'I can't help it if it be not, but it is nature after all; did you
never see gray hair on the young?'
'Never! I have heard it is true of a gray lad, and a bad one he
was. Oh, so bad.'
'Sit down on the grass, and tell me all about it, sister; do, to
oblige me, pretty sister.'
'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.'
'As you call me brother; I am not an uncivil person after all,
sister.'
'I say, brother, tell me one thing, and look me in the face - there
- do you speak Rommany?'
'Rommany! Rommany! what is Rommany?'
'What is Rommany? our language to be sure; tell me, brother, only
one thing, you don't speak Rommany?'
'You say it.'
'I don't say it, I wish to know. Do you speak Rommany?'
'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?'
'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.'
'I thought you said it was badly mended?'
'Yes, yes, brother, but - '
'I thought you said it was only fit to be played at football with?'
'Yes, yes, brother, but - '
'What will you give for it?'
'Brother, I am the poor person's child, I will give you sixpence
for the kekaubi.'
'Poor person's child; how came you by that necklace?'
'Be civil, brother; am I to have the kekaubi?'
'Not for sixpence; isn't the kettle nicely mended?'
'I never saw a nicer mended kettle, brother; am I to have the
kekaubi, brother?'
'You like me then?'
'I don't dislike you - I dislike no one; there's only one, and him
I don't dislike, him I hate.'
'Who is he?'
'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?'
'You may have it, but not for sixpence; I'll give it to you.'
'Parraco tute, that is, I thank you, brother; the rikkeni kekaubi
is now mine. O, rare! I thank you kindly, brother.'
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 -
'The Rommany chi
And the Rommany chal
Shall jaw tasaulor
To drab the bawlor,
And dook the gry
Of the farming rye.
Good-bye, brother, I must be going.'
'Good-bye, sister; why do you sing that wicked song?'
'Wicked song, hey, brother! you don't understand the song!'
'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 -
'The Rommany chi
And the Rommany chal,
Love Luripen
And dukkeripen,
And hokkeripen,
And every pen
But Lachipen
And tatchipen.'
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?'
'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.'
'Good-bye, tall brother,' said the girl, as she departed, singing
'The Rommany chi,' etc.
'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?'
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.
CHAPTER LXXI
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.
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.
'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.'
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.
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.
'Ha!' said I, 'was it you that cried danger? What danger is
there?'
'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?'
'What, indeed, except in sleeping beneath a tree; what is that you
have got in your hand?'
'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 grand-bebee how kind you had been
to the poor person's child, and when my grand-bebee 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."'
'But there are two cakes.'
'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, grayhaired
brother - which shall I have, brother?'
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.
'Which shall I have, brother?' said the gypsy girl.
'Whichever you please.'
'No, brother, no, the cakes are yours, not mine. It is for you to
say.'
'Well, then, give me the one nearest you, and take the other.'
'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.'
'Are you sure,' said I, taking the cake, 'that this is the one I
chose?'
'Quite sure, brother; but if you like you can have mine; there's no
difference, however - shall I eat?'
'Yes, sister, eat.'
'See, brother, I do; now, brother, eat, pretty brother, gray-haired
brother.'
'I am not hungry.'
'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.'
'The children in the wood had nothing to eat.'
'Yes, they had hips and haws; we have better. Eat, brother.'
'See, sister, I do,' and I ate a piece of the cake.
'Well, brother, how do you like it?' said the girl, looking fixedly
at me.
'It is very rich and sweet, and yet there is something strange
about it; I don't think I shall eat any more.'
'Fie, brother, fie, to find fault with the poor person's cake; see,
I have nearly eaten mine.'
'That's a pretty little dog.'
'Is it not, brother? that's my juggal, my little sister, as I call
her.'
'Come here, juggal,' said I to the animal.
'What do you want with my juggal?' said the girl.
'Only to give her a piece of cake,' said I, offering the dog a
piece which I had just broken off.
'What do you mean?' said the girl, snatching the dog away; 'my
grandbebee's cake is not for dogs.'
'Why, I just now saw you give the animal a piece of yours.'
'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.'
'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.'
'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.'
'I am not hungry, I will put the rest by.'
'One piece more before I go, handsome brother, gray-haired
brother.'
'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.'
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, grayhaired
brother. Come, juggal.'
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.
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?'
'The gentleman makes no answer, bebee; perhaps he does not know
you.'
'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.'
'It's a way he has, bebee, I suppose?'
'Yes, child, it's a way he has.'
'Take off your bonnet, bebee, perhaps he cannot see your face.'
'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 - '
'No answer, bebee.'
'Though the one was not quite so gray, nor the other so wrinkled.'
'How came they so, bebee?'
'All along of this gorgio, child.'
'The gentleman in the house, you mean, bebee?'
'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.'
'How old are you, bebee?'
'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.'
'She had no griefs, bebee?'
'Plenty, child, but not like mine.'
'Not quite so hard to bear, bebee?'
'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."'
'That was right, bebee, I think I should have done the same.'
'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."'
'Very foolish of her, bebee.'
'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."'
'And I say so again, bebee, as much or more.'
'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."'
'I did so, bebee; go on.'
'"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.'
'Ha, ha! bebee, and here he lies, poisoned like a hog.'
'You have taken drows, sir,' said Mrs. Herne; 'do you hear, sir?
drows; tip him a stave, child, of the song of poison.'
And thereupon the girl clapped her hands, and sang -
'The Rommany churl
And the Rommany girl
To-morrow shall hie
To poison the sty,
And bewitch on the mead
The farmer's steed.'
'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.'
'He has heard it Romanly already, bebee; 'twas by that I found him
out, as I told you.'
'Halloo, sir, are you sleeping? you have taken drows; the gentleman
makes no answer. God give me patience!'
'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.'
'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.'
'Not drabbed! what do you mean, bebee? but look there, bebee; ha,
ha, look at the gentleman's motions.'
'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.'
'Hey, bebee!' cried the girl; 'what is this? what do you mean? you
have blessed the gorgio!'
'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.'
'Nonsense, bebee! Look at his motions, he's drabbed, spite of
dukkerin.'
'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.'
'He'll soon be gone, bebee; let's leave him. He's as good as gone;
look there, he's dead.'
'No, he's not, he'll get up - I feel it; can't we hasten him?'
'Hasten him! yes, to be sure; set the dog upon him. Here, juggal,
look in there, my dog.'
The dog made its appearance at the door of the tent, and began to
bark and tear up the ground.
'At him, juggal, at him; he wished to poison, to drab you.
Halloo!'
The dog barked violently, and seemed about to spring at my face,
but retreated.
'The dog won't fly at him, child; he flashed at the dog with his
eye, and scared him. He'll get up.'
'Nonsense, bebee! you make me angry; how should he get up?'
'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.'
'You are going mad, bebee; if you want to hasten him, take your
stick and poke him in the eye.'
'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.
'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.'
'What's the matter, child?'
'Some one is coming, come away.'
'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.
'Here's a pretty affair, bebee,' screamed the girl.
'He'll get up, yet,' said Mrs. Herne, from beneath the canvas.
'Get up! - get up yourself; where are you? where is your - Here,
there, bebee, here's the door; there, make haste, they are coming.'
'He'll get up yet,' said Mrs. Herne, recovering her breath; 'the
dock tells me so.'
'Never mind him or the dook; he is drabbed; come away, or we shall
be grabbed - both of us.'
'One more blow, I know where his head lies.'
'You are mad, bebee; leave the fellow - gorgio avella.'
And thereupon the females hurried away.
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.
'Peth yw hono sydd yn gorwedd yna ar y ddaear?' said a masculine
voice.
'Yn wirionedd - I do not know what it can be,' said the female
voice, in the same tongue.
'Here is a cart, and there are tools; but what is that on the
ground?'
'Something moves beneath it; and what was that - a groan?'
'Shall I get down?'
'Of course, Peter, some one may want your help?
'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.'
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!'
CHAPTER LXXII
Desired effect - The three oaks - Winifred - Things of time - With
God's will - The preacher - Creature comforts - Croesaw - Welsh and
English - Mayor of Chester.
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.
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.
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.'
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.
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.'
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.'
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.
'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.
'I am afraid he is,' said Winifred, 'yet my heart warms to the poor
lad, he seems so forlorn.'
CHAPTER LXXIII
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.
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.
'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.'
'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.'
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.'
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
'Good-day,' said I, 'pretty damsel, sitting in the farm porch.'
'Good-day,' said the girl, looking at me for a moment, and then
fixing her eyes on her book.
'That's a nice book you are reading,' said I.
The girl looked at me with surprise. 'How do you know what book it
is?' said she.
'How do I know - never mind; but a nice book it is - no love, no
fortune-telling in it.'
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.
'I tell you what, young person,' said I, 'I know all about that
book; what will you wager that I do not?'
'I never wager,' said the girl.
'Shall I tell you the name of it,' said I, 'O daughter of the
dairy? '
The girl half started. 'I should never have thought,' said she,
half timidly, 'that you could have guessed it.'
'I did not guess it,' said I, 'I knew it; and meet and proper it is
that you should read it.'
'Why so?' said the girl.
'Can the daughter of the dairy read a more fitting book than the
DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER?'
'Where do you come from?' said the girl.
'Out of the water,' said I. 'Don't start, I have been bathing; are
you fond of the water?'
'No,' said the girl, heaving a sigh; 'I am not fond of the water,
that is, of the sea'; and here she sighed again.
'The sea is a wide gulf,' said I, 'and frequently separates
hearts.'
The girl sobbed.
'Why are you alone here?' said I.
'I take my turn with the rest,' said the girl, 'to keep at home on
Sunday.'
'And you are - ' said I.
'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?'
'Who are those you call my friends?' said I.
'Peter and his wife.'
'And who are they?' said I.
'Do you not know?' said the girl; 'you came with them.'
'They found me ill by the way,' said I; 'and they relieved me: I
know nothing about them.'
'I thought you knew everything,' said the girl.
'There are two or three things which I do not know, and this is one
of them. Who are they?'
'Did you never hear of the great Welsh preacher, Peter Williams?'
'Never,' said I.
'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.'
'And what is their reason for doing so?' said I; 'would it not be
more comfortable to sleep beneath a roof?'
'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 - '
'Thank you,' said I, 'I will now depart.'
'Hem!' said the girl, 'I was wishing - '
'What? to ask me a question?'
'Not exactly; but you seem to know everything; you mentioned, I
think, fortune-telling.'
'Do you wish me to tell your fortune?'
'By no means; but I have a friend at a distance at sea, and I
should wish to know - '
'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 DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER when
you have nothing better to do.'
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.
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.
Now 'pechod Ysprydd Glan,' interpreted, is the sin against the Holy
Ghost.
CHAPTER LXXIV
The following day - Pride - Thriving trade - Tylwyth Teg - Ellis
Wyn - Sleeping hard - Incalculable good - Fearful agony - The tale.
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!'
'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.'
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.'
'Fairies!' said Peter, 'fairies! how came you, young man, to know
anything about the fair family?'
'I am an Englishman,' said I, 'and of course know something about
fairies; England was once a famous place for them.'
'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.'
'And do you believe in them?' said I.
'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.'
'Do you believe in devils, then?'
'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?'
'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?'
'Many have said it, young man, and, amongst others, Master Ellis
Wyn, in that wonderful book of his, the BARDD CWSG.'
'The BARDD CWSG,' said I; 'what kind of book is that? I have never
heard of that book before.'
'Heard of it before; I suppose not; how should you have heard of it
before? By the bye, can you read?'
'Very tolerably,' said I; 'so there are fairies in this book. What
do you call it - the BARDD CWSG?'
'Yes, the BARDD CWSG. You pronounce Welsh very fairly; have you
ever been in Wales?'
'Never,' said I.
'Not been in Wales; then, of course, you don't understand Welsh;
but we were talking of the BARDD CWSG - yes, there are fairies in
the BARDD CWSG, - 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.'
'I beg your pardon,' said I, 'but what were those wonderful
things?'
'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.'
'But this was all in his sleep,' said I, 'was it not?'
'Yes,' said Peter, 'in his sleep; and on that account the book is
called GWELEDIGAETHAU Y BARDD CWSG, or, VISIONS OF THE SLEEPING
BARD.'
'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.'
'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 BARDD CWSG 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 BARDD CWSG perhaps I might not be
here.'
'I would sooner hear your own tale,' said I, 'than all the visions
of the BARDD CWSG.'
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.'
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.
CHAPTER LXXV
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.
'I WAS born in the heart of North Wales, the son of a respectable
farmer, and am the youngest of seven brothers.
'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.
'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."
'"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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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?
'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.
'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.
'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.'
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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 horrorstruck
glance of my father above in the clouds; and there I would
continue groaning till the agony had, in some degree, passed away.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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:-
'"He who committeth the sin against the Holy Ghost shall not be
forgiven, either in this world or the next."'
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.
CHAPTER LXXVI
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.
'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.
'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."
'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."
'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."
'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.
'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.
'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."
'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.
'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.
'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."
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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?'
'It is impossible for me to guess,' said I.
"Let us go to rest, my love; your fears are all groundless."'
CHAPTER LXXVII
Getting late - Seven years old - Chastening - Go forth - London
Bridge - Same eyes - Common occurrence - Very sleepy.
'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.'
'Rest!' said Peter; 'there is no rest for the wicked!'
'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.'
'Then you will still maintain,' said Peter, 'that I never committed
the sin against the Holy Spirit?'
'I will,' said Winifred; 'you never committed it. How should a
child seven years old commit a sin like that?'
'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."'
'You never committed it,' said Winifred.
'But the words! the words! the words!' said Peter.
'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.'
'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?'
'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.'
'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.'
'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.'
'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.'
'I have not yet heard the whole of your history,' said I.
'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!'
'I am thinking of London Bridge,' said I.
'Of London Bridge!' said Peter and his wife.
'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!"'
'That's true,' said Peter. 'What is the name of the book?'
'THE LIFE OF BLESSED MARY FLANDERS.'
'Some popish saint, I suppose,' said Peter.
'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?'
'How!' said Peter, 'dost thou think that they had divined my
secret?'
'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?'
'Dost thou then imagine,' said Peter, 'the sin against the Holy
Ghost to be so common an occurrence?'
'As you have described it,' said I, 'of very common occurrence,
especially amongst children, who are, indeed, the only beings
likely to commit it.'
'Truly,' said Winifred, 'the young man talks wisely.'
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?'
'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.'
'God bless thee, young man,' said Winifred.
CHAPTER LXXVIII
Low and calm - Much better - Blessed effect - No answer - Such a
sermon.
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.
'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.'
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.
'Your husband seems much better,' said I, at evening fall, to
Winifred, as we chanced to be alone.
'He does,' said Winifred; 'and that on the day of the week when he
was wont to appear most melancholy, for tomorrow 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.'
'To whom do you allude,' said I; 'and to what words?'
'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.'
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.
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.
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.'
CHAPTER LXXIX
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.
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.'
'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.'
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:-
'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,
'"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."
'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.'
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.
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 . . .'
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.
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.
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!'
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.'
'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":-
'"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."'
'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.'
'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.'
'It is too proud for that,' said Winifred.
'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.'
'Oh the pride of that church!' said Winifred, half to herself;
'wandering sectaries!'
'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.'
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?'
'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, "Goodevening,
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?"
'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."'
CHAPTER LXXX
The border - Thank you both - Pipe and fiddle - Taliesin.
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.'
'Which is the border?' said I.
'Yon small brook,' said Peter, 'into which the man on horseback who
is coming towards us is now entering.'
'I see it,' said I, 'and the man; he stops in the middle of it, as
if to water his steed.'
We proceeded till we had nearly reached the brook. 'Well,' said
Peter, 'will you go into Wales?'
'What should I do in Wales?' I demanded.
'Do!' said Peter, smiling, 'learn Welsh.'
I stopped my little pony. 'Then I need not go into Wales; I
already know Welsh.'
'Know Welsh!' said Peter, staring at me.
'Know Welsh!' said Winifred, stopping her cart.
'How and when did you learn it?' said Peter.
'From books, in my boyhood.'
'Read Welsh!' said Peter; 'is it possible?'
'Read Welsh!' said Winifred; 'is it possible?'
'Well, I hope you will come with us,' said Peter.
'Come with us, young man,' said Winifred; 'let me, on the other
side of the brook, welcome you into Wales.'
'Thank you both,' said I, 'but I will not come.'
'Wherefore?' exclaimed both, simultaneously.
'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."'
'How!' said Peter, 'hast thou translated the works of the mighty
Dafydd?'
'With notes critical, historical, and explanatory.'
'Come with us, friend,' said Peter. 'I cannot promise such a
dinner as thou wishest, but neither pipe nor fiddle shall be
wanting.'
'Come with us, young man,' said Winifred, 'even as thou art, and
the daughters of Wales shall bid thee welcome.'
'I will not go with you,' said I. 'Dost thou see that man in the
ford?'
'Who is staring at us so, and whose horse has not yet done
drinking? Of course I see him.'
'I shall turn back with him. God bless you.'
'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.'
'Go not back with him,' said Winifred. 'If thou goest with that
man, thou wilt soon forget all our profitable counsels; come with
us.'
'I cannot; I have much to say to him. Kosko Divvus, Mr.
Petulengro.'
'Kosko Divvus, Pal,' said Mr. Petulengro, riding through the water;
'are you turning back?'
I turned back with Mr. Petulengro.
Peter came running after me: 'One moment, young man, - who and
what are you?'
'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!'
'Take this,' said Peter, and he thrust his Welsh Bible into my
hand.
CHAPTER LXXXI
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.
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?'
'Ay, truly, brother.'
'What have you been doing there?'
'Assisting at a funeral.'
'At whose funeral?'
'Mrs. Herne's, brother.'
'Is she dead, then?'
'As a nail, brother.'
'How did she die?'
'By hanging, brother.'
'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-inlaw.
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.
'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.'
'And I am glad to see you, Mr. Petulengro; but this is sad news
which you tell me about Mrs. Herne.'
'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.'
'I am sorry for her,' said I; 'more especially as I am the cause of
her death - though the innocent one.'
'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.'
'You allude to drabbing bawlor.'
'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?'
'Never.'
'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 - "
'Ate of it,' said I; 'just like my case!'
'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."'
'Well,' said I, 'and what did the Poknees do?'
'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.'
'I am entirely of your opinion,' said I; 'but what happened then?'
'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.'
'I never heard of it till now.'
'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."
'And what did the other fellow do, who came with the chal?' said I.
'I sat still on my horse, brother.'
'You!' said I. 'Were you the man?'
'I was he, brother.'
'And why did you not help your comrade?'
'I have fought in the ring, brother.'
'And what had fighting in the ring to do with fighting in the
lane?'
'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 - '
'That you are quite right, Mr. Petulengro, I see that clearly; and
now, pray proceed with your narration; it is both moral and
entertaining.'
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!'
'I daresay it would,' said I, 'if two people were inclined to
fight.'
'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.
'But you and I don't want to fight!'
'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.'
'But we have no gloves!'
'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.'
CHAPTER LXXXII
Offence and defence - I'm satisfied - Fond of solitude - Possession
of property - Chal Devlehi - Winding path.
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.'
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.
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.'
'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.'
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.'
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.
CHAPTER LXXXIII
Highly poetical - Volundr - Grecian mythology - Making a petul -
Tongues of flame - Hammering - Spite of dukkerin - Heaviness.
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.
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.
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.
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.'
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.
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.
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.
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.
CHAPTER LXXXIV
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I awoke, on my own calculation, about midnight - it was pitch dark,
and there was much fear upon me.
CHAPTER LXXXV
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.
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.
'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.'
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.'
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.
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.
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.
'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.
'Why don't you move forward, Jack?' said another voice, also a
female, yet higher up the path.
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.
'What's the matter?' said the voice which I had last heard.
'Get back with you, Belle, Moll,' said the man, still staring at
me; 'here's something not over canny or comfortable.'
'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.
'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.'
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!'
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.
'Afraid!' growled the fellow, proceeding to unharness his horse;
'that was the word, I think.'
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.
'What's the matter, Jack?' said the latter, looking at the man.
'Only afraid, that's all,' said the man, still proceeding with his
work.
'Afraid at what - at that lad? why, he looks like a ghost - I would
engage to thrash him with one hand.'
'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:-
On Dovrefeld in Norway
Were once together seen
The twelve heroic brothers
Of Ingeborg the queen.'
'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.'
'Well, perhaps I was a peg too high,' said I; 'I ask your pardon -
here's something a bit lower:-
As I was jawing to the gav yeck divvus
I met on the drom miro Rommany chi - '
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.'
'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.'
'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?'
'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.'
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.
'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.'
'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?'
'Is it your ground?' said I.
'A pretty question,' said the fellow; 'as if all the world didn't
know that. Do you know who I am?'
'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.'
'Well, if that doesn't beat all!' said the fellow.
'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.'
'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.'
'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.'
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.'
'It's his no longer; I bought it and paid for it.'
'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.'
'I am not Slingsby.'
'All's one for that.'
'You don't say you will beat me?'
'Afraid was the word.'
'I'm sick and feeble.'
'Hold up your fists.'
'Won't the horse satisfy you?'
'Horse nor bellows either.'
'No mercy, then?'
'Here's at you.'
'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.'
'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.'
The Flaming Tinman took her advice, and came in bent on smashing,
but stopped short on receiving a left-handed blow on the nose.
'You'll never beat the Flaming Tinman in that way,' said the girl,
looking at me doubtfully.
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.
'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.
'Do you call that fair play?' said she.
'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.'
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:-
'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.'
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.
'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?'
'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.
'Now, will you use Long Melford?' said Belle, picking me up.
'I don't know what you mean by Long Melford,' said I, gasping for
breath.
'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.
'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.'
'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.'
'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.
'They were bad people,' said she, 'and I did not like them, but
they were my only acquaintance in the wide world.'
CHAPTER LXXXVI
At tea - Vapours - Isopel Berners - Softly and kindly - Sweet
pretty creature - Bread and water - Two sailors - Truth and
constancy - Very strangely.
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.
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.
'This tea is very good,' said I, 'but I cannot enjoy it as much as
if I were well: I feel very sadly.'
'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.'
'That's a great deal for a person in your station to pay.'
'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.'
'Dear me,' said I, 'I should never have thought that one of your
size and fierceness would weep and cry!'
'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.'
'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?'
'Isopel Berners.'
'How did you get that name?'
'I say, young man, you seem fond of asking questions: will you
have another cup of tea?'
'I was just going to ask for another.'
'Well, then, here it is, and much good may it do you; as for my
name, I got it from my mother.'
'Your mother's name, then, was Isopel!'
'Isopel Berners.'
'But had you never a father?'
'Yes, I had a father,' said the girl, sighing, 'but I don't bear
his name.'
'Is it the fashion, then, in your country for children to bear
their mother's name?'
'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.'
'It is a noble name.'
'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.'
'What do you mean by the great house?'
'The workhouse.'
'Is it possible that you were born there?'
'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.'
'And how did they receive you in the great house?'
'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 - '
'Knocking your mistress down?'
'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 maidservant;
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?'
'Yes,' said I, 'they are very nice things. I feel very strangely.'
'How do you feel, young man?
'Very much afraid.'
'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.'
'I'm not afraid of the Flaming Tinman.'
'What, then, are you afraid of?'
'The evil one.'
'The evil one!' said the girl, 'where is he?'
'Coming upon me.'
'Never heed,' said the girl, 'I'll stand by you.'
CHAPTER LXXXVII
Hubbub of voices - No offence - Nodding - The guests.
THE kitchen of the public-house was a large one, and many people
were drinking in it; there was a confused hubbub of voices.
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?'
'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.'
'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.
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, with-drawing it from the
table.
'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.'
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.
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.
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.
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.'
That man must be a Radical, thought I.
CHAPTER LXXXVIII
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.
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.
'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.'
'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 - '
'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."'
'Ah, the Church of England has been a source of incalculable
mischief to these realms,' said another.
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.
'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.'
'And suppose the people of New York should clap you in the stocks?'
said I.
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.
'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.'
'I speak against the great American nation!' said I; 'I rather paid
them a compliment.'
'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.'
'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.'
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.'
'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.'
The man in black partially raised his head, and gave me another
peculiar glance.
'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?'
'Nothing,' said I.
'Nothing!' repeated the Radical.
'No,' said I, 'down with them as soon as you can.'
'As soon as I can! I wish I could. But I can down with a bully of
theirs. Come, will you fight for them?'
'No,' said I.
'You won't?
'No,' said I; 'though, from what I have seen of them, I should say
they are tolerably able to fight for themselves.'
'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.'
'A white feather,' said his companion.
'He! he!' tittered the man in black.
'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.'
'Gin and water cold, with a lump of sugar in it,' said I, and
struck the table with my fist.
'Take some?' said the landlord, inquiringly.
'No,' said I, 'only something came into my head.'
'He's mad,' said the man in black.
'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.'
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.
'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.'
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.'
'Whom does it persecute?' said I.
The man in black glanced at me slightly, and then replied slowly,
'The Catholics.'
'And do those whom you call Catholics never persecute?' said I.
'Never,' said the man in black.
'Did you ever read Foxe's BOOK OF MARTYRS?' said I.
'He! he!' tittered the man in black; 'there is not a word of truth
in Foxe's BOOK OF MARTYRS.'
'Ten times more than in the FLOS SANCTORUM,' said I.
The man in black looked at me, but made no answer.
'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?'
The man in black made no answer.
'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 - '
'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?'
'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.'
'An Orangeman,' said the man in black.
'Not a Platitude,' said I.
The man in black gave a slight start.
'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.'
The man in black sat quite still.
'Especially amongst those who have wives,' I added.
The man in black stretched his hand towards his gin and water.
'However,' said I, 'we shall see what the grand movement will bring
about, and the results of the lessons in elocution.'
The man in black lifted the glass up to his mouth, and, in doing
so, let the spoon fall.
'But what has this to do with the main question?' said I; 'I am
waiting here to fight against the Pope.'
'Come, Hunter,' said the companion of the man in the snuff coloured
coat, 'get up, and fight for the Pope.'
'I don't care for the young fellow,' said the man in the snuffcoloured
coat.
'I know you don't,' said the other, 'so get up, and serve him out.'
'I could serve out three like him,' said the man in the snuffcoloured
coat.
'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.'
The man in the snuff-coloured coat did not stir.
'Who shows the white feather now?' said the simple-looking man.
'He! he! he!' tittered the man in black.
'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.'
'Then you won't fight?' said I.
'Not for the Pope,' said the Radical; 'I'll see the Pope - '
'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?'
'Come, Hunter,' said the other, 'get up, and fight against the
Church of England.'
'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.'
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.'
'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 - '
'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.'
'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.'
'Landlord,' said I, 'what have I to pay?
'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.'
'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 - '
'Bravo!' said the landlord, 'that's just the conduct I like.'
'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.'
'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.'
'The Armenians,' said I; 'oh dear me, the Armenians - '
'Have you anything to say about those people, sir?' said the man in
black, lifting up his glass to his mouth.
'I have nothing further to say,' said I, 'than that the roots of
Ararat are occasionally found to be deeper than those of Rome.'
'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.'
CHAPTER LXXXIX
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.
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?'
'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.'
'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."'
'He was no advocate for tea, then?' said I.
'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.'
'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.'
Thereupon Belle prepared tea, and, as we were taking it, she said -
'What did you see and hear at the public-house?'
'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?'
'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.'
'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.'
'Really, young man,' said Belle, 'you are not over complimentary;
but who may this wonderful company have been - some young - ?' and
here Belle stopped.
'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.'
'Was there no one else?' said Belle.
'You are mighty curious,' said I. 'No, none else, except a poor
simple mechanic, and some common company, who soon went away.'
Belle looked at me for a moment, and then appeared to be lost in
thought - 'America!' said she, musingly - 'America!'
'What of America?' said I.
'I have heard that it is a mighty country.'
'I daresay it is,' said I; 'I have heard my father say that the
Americans are first-rate marksmen.'
'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.'
'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.'
'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.'
'Do you mean to say that I am a scoffer and mocker?'
'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.'
'What should I have to say against America? I never was there.'
'Many people speak against America who never were there.'
'Many people speak in praise of America who never were there; but
with respect to myself, I have not spoken for or against America.'
'If you liked America you would speak in its praise.'
'By the same rule, if I disliked America I should speak against
it.'
'I can't speak with you,' said Belle; 'but I see you dislike the
country.'
'The country!'
'Well, the people - don't you?'
'I do.'
'Why do you dislike them?'
'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 rightabout
in double-quick time.'
'And that is your reason for disliking the Americans?'
'Yes,' said I, 'that is my reason for disliking them.'
'Will you take another cup of tea?' said Belle.
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.'
'Were you thinking of your company?' said Belle.
'What company?' said I.
'The present company.'
'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.'
'What is Armenian?'
'Did you ever hear of Ararat?'
'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.'
'Well, Armenian is the speech of people of that place, and I should
like to teach it you.'
'To prevent - '
'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.'
'Would not the language of the roads do as well?' said Belle.
'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.'
'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?'
'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.'
'I suppose you mean no harm,' said Belle.
'Not in the least; I merely propose the thing to prevent our
occasionally feeling uncomfortable together. Let us begin.'
'Stop till I have removed the tea things,' said Belle; and, getting
up, she removed them to her own encampment.
'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.'
'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.'
'I am sure that word will hang upon my memory,' said Belle.
'Why hang upon it?' said I.
'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.'
'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.'
'What are numerals?' said Belle.
'Numbers. I will say the Haikan numbers up to ten. There - have
you heard them?'
'Yes.'
'Well, try and repeat them.'
'I only remember number one,' said Belle, 'and that because it is
me.'
' I will repeat them again,' said I, 'and pay greater attention.
Now, try again.'
'Me, jergo, earache.'
'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.'
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.
'Pure Rommany,' said I; 'where?' I added, in a whisper.
'Dovey odoi,' said Belle, nodding with her head towards the path.
'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.
CHAPTER XC
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.
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.'
'You have as much right here,' said I, 'as I or my companion; but
you had no right to stand listening to our conversation.'
'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.'
'I do not see why you should have hesitated if your intentions were
good,' said I.
'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.'
'And what may have been your motive for coming to this place?' said
I.
'Per far visita a sua signoria, ecco il motivo.'
'Why do you speak to me in that gibberish,' said I; 'do you think I
understand it?'
'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.'
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
'I see,' said I, 'that for some time you were standing near me and
my companion, in the mean act of listening.'
'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.'
'And how did you know that I was here?' I demanded.
'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.'
'Well,' said I, 'since you are come, you are welcome; please to
step this way.'
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.'
'I am not in the habit of shaking hands with strangers,' said
Belle.
'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.'
'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.'
'Do you take me for a listener then?' said the man in black.
'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.
'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.'
'That's not English doctrine,' said the man in black.
'I thought the English prided themselves on their hospitality,'
said I.
'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.'
'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?'
'He! he! he!' tittered the man in black.
'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?'
'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.'
'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.'
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.'
'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.
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.
'A bad countenance,' said Belle, in the language of the roads,
observing that my eyes were fixed on his face.
'Does not my countenance please you, fair damsel?' said the man in
black, resuming his hat, and speaking in a peculiarly gentle voice.
'How,' said I, 'do you understand the language of the roads?'
'As little as I do Armenian,' said the man in black; 'but I
understand look and tone.'
'So do I, perhaps,' retorted Belle; 'and, to tell you the truth, I
like your tone as little as your face.'
'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.'
'Will you permit me to ask who you are?'
'Do you see the place where I live?' said I.
'I do,' said the man in black, looking around.
'Do you know the name of this place?'
'I was told it was Mumpers' or Gypsies' Dingle,' said the man in
black.
'Good,' said I; 'and this forge and tent, what do they look like?'
'Like the forge and tent of a wandering Zigan; I have seen the like
in Italy.'
'Good,' said I; 'they belong to me.'
'Are you, then, a gypsy?' said the man in black.
'What else should I be?'
'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.'
'Do you know how gypsies live?' said I.
'By hammering old iron, I believe, and telling fortunes.'
'Well,' said I, 'there's my forge, and yonder is some iron, though
not old, and by your own confession I am a soothsayer.'
'But how did you come by your knowledge?'
'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.'
'Why scarlet?' said the man in black. 'Is it because gypsies blush
like scarlet?'
'Gypsies never blush,' said I; 'but gypsies' cloaks are scarlet.'
'I should almost take you for a gypsy,' said the man in black, 'but
for - '
'For what?' said I.
'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.
'And why should not a gypsy possess a knowledge of languages?' said
I.
'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.'
'What do you take me for?' said I.
'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.'
'And why should not a philologist be able to answer questions
acutely?' said I.
'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.'
'But you found me giving a lesson in Armenian to this handmaid?'
'I believe I did,' said the man in black.
'And you heard me give what you are disposed to call acute answers
to the questions you asked me?'
'I believe I did,' said the man in black.
'And would any one but a philologist think of giving a lesson in
Armenian to a handmaid in a dingle?
'I should think not,' said the man in black.
'Well, then, don't you see that it is possible for a philologist to
give not only a rational, but an acute answer?'
'I really don't know,' said the man in black.
'What's the matter with you?' said I.
'Merely puzzled,' said the man in black.
'Puzzled?
'Yes.'
'Really puzzled?'
'Yes.'
'Remain so.'
'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.'
'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.'
'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.
'There's nothing like gin and water, is there?' said I, 'but I am
sorry to say I have none.'
'Gin and water,' said the man in black, 'how do you know that I am
fond of gin and water?'
'Did I not see you drinking some at the public-house?'
'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?'
'It is not usually drunk cold, and with a lump of sugar,' said I.
'And did you know who I was by my calling for it so?'
'Gypsies have various ways of obtaining information,' said I.
'With all your knowledge,' said the man in black, 'you do not
appear to have known that I was coming to visit you?'
'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.'
'Have I your permission to come again?' said the man in black.
'Come when you please; this dingle is as free for you as me.'
'I will visit you again,' said the man in black - 'till then,
addio.'
'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.'
'You offered him some tea,' said Belle, 'which, as it is mine, I
should have grudged him, for I like him not.'
'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?'
'I think I do,' said Belle, 'but - '
'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.'
CHAPTER XCI
Excursions - Adventurous English - Opaque forests - The greatest
patience.
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.
CHAPTER XCII
The landlord - Rather too old - Without a shilling - Reputation - A
fortnight ago - Liquids - The main chance - Respectability -
Irrational beings - Parliament cove - My brewer.
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 fivepound
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.'
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.'
'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.'
'The young woman I keep company with,' said I; 'pray what do you
mean?'
'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?'
'It is a very ingenious one,' said I.
'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.'
'I am going,' said I, rising from my seat, after finishing the
remainder of the ale.
'Do you think she'll have any objection?' said the landlord.
'To do what?' said I.
'Why, to fight cross.'
'Yes, I do,' said I.
'But you will do your best to persuade her?'
'No, I will not,' said I.
'Are you fool enough to wish to fight fair?'
'No,' said I, 'I am wise enough to wish not to fight at all.'
'And how's my brewer to be paid?' said the landlord.
'I really don't know,' said I.
'I'll change my religion,' said the landlord.
CHAPTER XCIII
Another visit - A la Margutte - Clever man - Napoleon's estimate -
Another statue.
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.
'This is one of the good things of life,' he added, after a short
pause.
'What are the others?' I demanded.
'There is Malvoisia sack,' said the man in black, 'and partridge,
and beccafico.'
'And what do you say to high mass?' said I.
'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.'
'You speak a la Margutte,' said I.
'Margutte!' said the man in black, musingly, 'Margutte!'
'You have read Pulci, I suppose?' said I.
'Yes, yes,' said the man in black, laughing; 'I remember.'
'He might be rendered into English,' said I, 'something in this
style:
'To which Margutte answered with a sneer,
I like the blue no better than the black,
My faith consists alone in savoury cheer,
In roasted capons, and in potent sack;
But above all, in famous gin and clear,
Which often lays the Briton on his back;
With lump of sugar, and with lymph from well,
I drink it, and defy the fiends of hell.'
'He! he! he!' said the man in black; 'that is more than Mezzofante
could have done for a stanza of Byron.'
'A clever man,' said I.
'Who?' said the man in black.
'Mezzofante di Bologna.'
'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 -
'
'Why,' said I, 'does he not understand five-and-twenty tongues?'
'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.'
'You ought to speak of him with more respect,' said I; 'I have
heard say that he has done good service to your See.'
'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."'
'You are ungrateful to him,' said I; 'well, perhaps, when he is
dead and gone you will do him justice.'
'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.'
'Of wood?' said I.
'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!'
'You should place another statue on the right.'
'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.'
'Wood?' said I.
'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.'
And when the man in black had said this, he emptied his second
tumbler of its contents, and prepared himself another.
CHAPTER XCIV
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.
'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.
'Hope!' said the man in black; 'how can we fail? Is not the Church
of these regions going to lose its prerogative?'
'Its prerogative?'
'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.'
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 IN STATU QUO; 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.'
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.'
'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?'
'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 - '
'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.'
'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.'
'He tried that game,' said I, 'and the parish said "Pooh, pooh,"
and, for the most part, went over to the Dissenters.'
'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.'
'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 IN FORMA PAUPERIS.'
'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.
'What then?' said I.
'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.
'And this is the Church which, according to your assertion in the
public-house, never persecutes?'
'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 publichouse
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?'
'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?'
'Let them become Papists,' said the man in black; 'only let the
majority become Papists, and you will see.'
'They will never become so,' said I; 'the good sense of the people
of England will never permit them to commit such an absurdity.'
'The good sense of the people of England!' said the man in black,
filling himself another glass.
'Yes,' said I, 'the good sense of not only the upper, but the
middle and lower classes.'
'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.
'Very fine people,' said I, 'monstrously fine people; so, at least,
they are generally believed to be.'
'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?'
'I cannot give an opinion; I know nothing of them, except from a
distance. But what think you of the middle classes?'
'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.'
'Do you think that the writings of Scott have had any influence in
modifying their religious opinions?'
'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 sweetscented
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!'
'If he has,' said I, 'he has done it unwittingly; I never heard
before that he was a favourer of the popish delusion.'
'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 IN FORMA
PAUPERIS; 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 illscrapit
tongues ca' it, was a very grand religion; I shall be proud
to follow your Majesty's example in adopting it."'
'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.'
'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.'
'But not Walters,' said I.
'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.'
'For example, Dante,' said I.
'Yes,' said the man in black, 'a dangerous personage; that poem of
his cuts both ways; and then there was Pulci, that MORGANTE 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 POVERI FRATI;
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 PRINCIPE CONSTANTE of the last is a
curiosity in its way; and then the MARY STUART 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 QUIXOTE. 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 - '
'Come,' said I, 'Mind what you are about to say of English literary
men.'
'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!'
'You will, of course, except the editors of the - from your censure
of the last class?' said I.
'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.'
'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.'
'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 ROKEBY, and are taught to sing snatches from that high-flying
ditty, the "Cavalier" -
'Would you match the base Skippon, and Massey, and Brown,
With the barons of England, who fight for the crown? -
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.'
'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.'
'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.'
'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.'
'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.'
'Has your church any followers amongst them?' said I.
'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.'
'And what could have put such an idea into the poor fellow's head?'
said I.
'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.'
'A disgraceful affair,' said I.
'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.'
'I suppose,' said I, 'that your Church would have acted very
differently in its place.'
'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.'
'Horseflesh and bitter ale!' I replied.
'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!'
'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?'
'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.'
'Perhaps we may,' said I. 'But with respect to the lower classes,
have you mixed much with them?'
'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.'
'Your See must have had great confidence in your powers when it
selected you to labour for it in these parts,' said I.
'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.'
'Your See appears to entertain a very strange opinion of the
English,' said I.
'Not altogether an unjust one,' said the man in black, lifting the
glass to his mouth.
'Well,' said I, 'it is certainly very kind on its part to wish to
bring back such a set of beings beneath its wing.'
'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!'
'The Founder of the Christian religion cared nothing for money,'
said I.
'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.'
'Well,' said I, 'whatever their faults may be, you can't say that
they go to Rome for money.'
The man in black made no direct answer, but appeared by the motion
of his lips to be repeating something to himself.
'I see your glass is again empty,' said I; 'perhaps you will
replenish it.'
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.
'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!'
CHAPTER XCV
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 Gothe.
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.
'Why have you been absent so long?' said I to Belle; 'it must be
long past four by the day.'
'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.'
'He shall have fresh shoes,' said I, continuing my exercise; 'here
they are quite ready; to-morrow I will tack them on.'
'And why are you playing with them in that manner?' said Belle.
'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 - '
'One has now fallen on your chin,' said Belle.
'And another on my cheek,' said I, getting up; 'it is time to
discontinue the game, for the last shoe drew blood.'
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.
'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?'
'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.'
'That makes good the old rhyme,' said Belle, 'which I have heard
sung by the old women in the great house:-
'Ash, when green,
Is fire for a queen.'
'And on fairer form of queen ash fire never shone,' said I, 'than
on thine, O beauteous queen of the dingle.'
'I am half disposed to be angry with you, young man,' said Belle.
'And why not entirely?' said I.
Belle made no reply.
'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.'
'Something less would content me,' said Belle, sighing, as she rose
to prepare our evening meal.
So we took tea together, Belle and I. 'How delicious tea is after
a hot summer's day and a long walk,' said she.
'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.'
Belle sighed. 'Where does tea come from?' she presently demanded.
'From China,' said I; 'I just now mentioned it, and the mention of
it put me in mind of tea.'
'What kind of country is China?'
'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 onethird
of the population of the world.'
'And do they talk as we do?'
'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.'
'Are the French so very clever, then?' said Belle.
'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?'
'That's your affair, not mine,' said Belle; 'it seems hard that the
master should ask the scholar.'
'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!
'What's a declension?'
'The way of declining a noun.'
'Then, in the civilest way imaginable, I decline the noun. Is that
a declension?'
'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.'
'I have done so already,' said Belle.
'If you go on in this way,' said I, 'I shall decline taking any
more tea with you. Will you decline an Armenian noun?'
'I don't like the language,' said Belle. 'If you must teach me
languages, why not teach me French or Chinese?'
'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!'
'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.'
'The Armenian noun,' said I, 'which I propose for your declension
this night, is -, which signifieth Master.'
'I neither like the word nor the sound,' said Belle.
'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 -
'A master. Of a master, etc. Repeat - '
'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.
'You have declined the noun very well,' said I; 'that is in the
singular number; we will now go to the plural.'
'What is the plural?' said Belle.
'That which implies more than one, for example, Masters; you shall
now go through masters in Armenian.'
'Never,' said Belle, 'never; it is bad to have one master, but more
I would never bear, whether in Armenian or English.'
'You do not understand,' said I; 'I merely want you to decline
Masters in Armenian.'
'I do decline them; I will have nothing to do with them, nor with
master either; I was wrong to - What sound is that?'
'I did not hear it, but I daresay it is thunder; in Armenian - '
'Never mind what it is in Armenian; but why do you think it is
thunder?'
'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.'
'And why did you not tell me so?'
'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?'
'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.'
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.
'How dark the place is become since I left you,' said she; 'just as
if night were just at hand.'
'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?'
'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.'
'It is not probable that we shall want it,' said I, 'but we had
better seek shelter: let us go into my tent.'
'Go in,' said Belle, 'but you go in alone; as for me, I will seek
my own.'
'You are right,' said I, 'to be afraid of me; I have taught you to
decline master in Armenian.'
'You almost tempt me,' said Belle, 'to make you decline mistress in
English.'
'To make matters short,' said I, 'I decline a mistress.'
'What do you mean?' said Belle, angrily.
'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.'
'The rain is increasing,' said Belle.
'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.'
'Nor I of you,' said Belle; 'so I will come. Why should I be
afraid? I can take my own part; that is - '
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!'
'And what a peal!' said I; 'that is what the Hebrews call Koul
Adonai - the voice of the Lord. Are you afraid?'
'No,' said Belle, 'I rather like to hear it.'
'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.'
'There is something awful in it,' said Belle; 'and then the
lightning - the whole dingle is now in a blaze.'
'"The voice of the Lord maketh the hinds to calve, and discovereth
the thick bushes." As you say, there is something awful in
thunder.'
'There are all kinds of noises above us,' said Belle; 'surely I
heard the crashing of a tree?'
'"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:-
'Astonied now I stand at strains,
As of ten thousand clanking chains;
And once, methought that, overthrown,
The welkin's oaks came whelming down;
Upon my head up starts my hair:
Why hunt abroad the hounds of air?
What cursed hag is screeching high,
Whilst crash goes all her crockery?'
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!'
'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?'
'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.'
'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.'
'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,
'My curse, O Thunder, cling to thee,
For parting my dear pearl and me!'
'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.'
'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 Gothe? -
'Mist shrouds the night, and rack;
Hear, in the woods, what an awful crack!
Wildly the owls are flitting,
Hark to the pillars splitting
Of palaces verdant ever,
The branches quiver and sever,
The mighty stems are creaking,
The poor roots breaking and shrieking,
In wild mixt ruin down dashing,
O'er one another they're crashing;
Whilst 'midst the rocks so hoary
Whirlwinds hurry and worry.
Hear'st not, sister - '
'Hark!' said Belle, 'hark!'
'Hear'st not, sister, a chorus
Of voices - ?'
'No,' said Belle, 'but I hear a voice.'
CHAPTER XCVI
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.
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 forewheels
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.
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.
'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.
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.'
'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.'
'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.'
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.
'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.'
CHAPTER XCVII
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.
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.
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.'
'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.'
'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 - '
'Vagrant gypsy folks and trampers,' said I; 'and what are we but
people of that stamp?'
'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 - '
'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.'
The postilion took the shoes and examined them. 'So you made these
shoes?' he cried at last.
'To be sure I did; do you doubt it?'
'Not in the least,' said the man.
'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.'
'Not a blacksmith, whatever else you may be,' said the postilion,
laughing.
'Then how do you account for my making those shoes?'
'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 donkeyshoes
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.'
'Then,' said I, 'for what do you take me?'
'Why, for some runaway young gentleman,' said the postilion. 'No
offence, I hope?'
'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?'
'Why, from college,' said the man: 'no offence?'
'None whatever; and what induced me to run away from college?'
'A love affair, I'll be sworn,' said the postilion. 'You had
become acquainted with this young gentlewoman, so she and you - '
'Mind how you get on, friend,' said Belle, in a deep serious tone.
'Pray proceed,' said I; 'I daresay you mean no offence.'
'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.'
'Are you offended?' said I to Belle.
Belle made no answer; but, placing her elbows on her knees, buried
her face in her hands.
'So we ran away together?' said I.
'Ay, ay,' said the postilion, 'to Gretna Green, though I can't say
that I drove ye, though I have driven many a pair.'
'And from Gretna Green we came here?'
'I'll be bound you did,' said the man, 'till you could arrange
matters at home.'
'And the horse-shoes?' said I.
'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.'
'And we intend to stay here till we have arranged matters at home?'
'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.'
'Really,' said I, 'you are getting on swimmingly.'
'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.'
'And what do you say to all this?' I demanded of Belle.
'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.'
'Pray,' said I, 'did you ever take lessons in elocution?'
'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.'
'Peroration, perhaps?'
'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?'
'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?'
'What should I think of it,' said Belle, still keeping her face
buried in her hands, 'but that it is mere nonsense?'
'Nonsense!' said the postilion.
'Yes,' said the girl, 'and you know it.'
'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?'
'I have never been at college, but - '
'Ay, ay,' said the postilion, 'but - '
'I have been to the best schools in Britain, to say nothing of a
celebrated one in Ireland.'
'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 - '
'My governor, as you call him,' said I, 'is dead.'
'And his borough interest?'
'My father had no borough interest,' said I; 'had he possessed any,
he would perhaps not have died, as he did, honourably poor.'
'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.'
'I was never at boarding-school,' said Belle, 'unless you call - '
'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.'
'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.'
'Wooh!' said the postilion.
'It is true that I am of good - '
'Ay, ay,' said the postilion, 'let us hear - '
'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.'
'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 - '
'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 - '
'Just come from Gretna Green, and already quarrelling!' said the
postilion.
'We do not come from Gretna Green,' said Belle.
'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.'
'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.'
'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 horseshoes,
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.'
'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.
'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.'
'Who is Mumbo Jumbo?' said I.
'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.'
'Were you ever there?' I demanded.
'No,' said the postilion, 'but I heard plenty of Mumbo Jumbo when I
was a boy.'
'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.'
'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.'
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.'
Thereupon he relighted his pipe; and, after taking two or three
whiffs, began in the following manner.
CHAPTER XCVIII
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.
'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
- '
'Exordium,' said I.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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."
'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.
'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 sightseeing,
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.
'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.
'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.
'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 soand-
so said this," and "Father so-and-so said that"; "Father soand-
so thinks we should do so-and-so, or that we should not do soand-
so." I at first thought that he must have given them
something, some philtre or the like, but one of the English maidservants,
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.
'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."
'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.
'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.
'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.
CHAPTER XCIX
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.
'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-andthirty.
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.
'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!
'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 redhaired
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.
'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.
'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.
'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 magnificentlooking
stalls, on the right and the left, various wonderfullooking
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.
'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.
'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 sulphurcoloured
garments, and shepherd's crook, and shaking my fist at his
nose, I bellowed out in English -
'"I don't care for you, old Mumbo Jumbo, though you have fetish!"
'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 redhaired
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.
'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.
'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 redhaired
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!
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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!
CHAPTER C
Nothing but gloom - Sporting character - Gouty Tory - Servants'
Club - Politics - Reformado footman - Peroration - Good-night.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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.
'If it was not the identical face of the red-haired priest whom I
had seen at Rome, may I catch cold!
'Young gentleman, I will now take a spell on your blanket - young
lady, good-night.'