Lavengro

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"But he thinks of other things now," said my mother.

"Other languages, you mean," said my father. "It is strange that he has
conceived such a zest for the study of languages; no sooner did he come
home than he persuaded me to send him to that old priest to learn French
and Italian, and, if I remember right, you abetted him; but, as I said
before, it is in the nature of women invariably to take the part of the
second-born. Well, there is no harm in learning French and Italian,
perhaps much good in his case, as they may drive the other tongue out of
his head. Irish! why, he might go to the university but for that; but
how would he look when, on being examined with respect to his
attainments, it was discovered that he understood Irish? How did you
learn it? they would ask him; how did you become acquainted with the
language of Papists and rebels? The boy would be sent away in disgrace."

"Be under no apprehension, I have no doubt that he has long since
forgotten it."

"I am glad to hear it," said my father; "for, between ourselves, I love
the poor child; ay, quite as well as my first-born. I trust they will do
well, and that God will be their shield and guide; I have no doubt He
will, for I have read something in the Bible to that effect. What is
that text about the young ravens being fed?"

"I know a better than that," said my mother; "one of David's own words,
'I have been young and now am grown old, yet never have I seen the
righteous man forsaken, or his seed begging their bread.'"

I have heard talk of the pleasures of idleness, yet it is my own firm
belief that no one ever yet took pleasure in it. Mere idleness is the
most disagreeable state of existence, and both mind and body are
continually making efforts to escape from it. It has been said that
idleness is the parent of mischief, which is very true; but mischief
itself is merely an attempt to escape from the dreary vacuum of idleness.
There are many tasks and occupations which a man is unwilling to perform,
but let no one think that he is therefore in love with idleness; he turns
to something which is more agreeable to his inclination, and doubtless
more suited to his nature; but he is not in love with idleness. A boy
may play the truant from school because he dislikes books and study; but,
depend upon it, he intends doing something the while--to go fishing, or
perhaps to take a walk; and who knows but that from such excursions both
his mind and body may derive more benefit than from books and school?
Many people go to sleep to escape from idleness; the Spaniards do; and,
according to the French account, John Bull, the 'squire, hangs himself in
the month of November; but the French, who are a very sensible people,
attribute the action, "_a une grande envie de se desennuyer_;" he wishes
to be doing something, say they, and having nothing better to do, he has
recourse to the cord.

It was for want of something better to do that, shortly after my return
home, I applied myself to the study of languages. By the acquisition of
Irish, with the first elements of which I had become acquainted under the
tuition of Murtagh, I had contracted a certain zest and inclination for
the pursuit. Yet it is probable, that had I been launched about this
time into some agreeable career, that of arms, for example, for which,
being the son of a soldier, I had, as was natural, a sort of penchant, I
might have thought nothing more of the acquisition of tongues of any
kind; but, having nothing to do, I followed the only course suited to my
genius which appeared open to me.

So it came to pass that one day, whilst wandering listlessly about the
streets of the old town, I came to a small book-stall, and stopping,
commenced turning over the books; I took up at least a dozen, and almost
instantly flung them down. What were they to me? At last, coming to a
thick volume, I opened it, and after inspecting its contents for a few
minutes, I paid for it what was demanded, and forthwith carried it home.

It was a tessara-glot grammar; a strange old book, printed somewhere in
Holland, which pretended to be an easy guide to the acquirement of the
French, Italian, Low Dutch, and English tongues, by means of which any
one conversant in any one of these languages could make himself master of
the other three. I turned my attention to the French and Italian. The
old book was not of much value; I derived some benefit from it, however,
and, conning it intensely, at the end of a few weeks obtained some
insight into the structure of these two languages. At length I had
learnt all that the book was capable of informing me, yet was still far
from the goal to which it had promised to conduct me. "I wish I had a
master!" I exclaimed; and the master was at hand. In an old court of the
old town lived a certain elderly personage, perhaps sixty, or
thereabouts; he was rather tall, and something of a robust make, with a
countenance in which bluffness was singularly blended with vivacity and
grimace; and with a complexion which would have been ruddy, but for a
yellow hue which rather predominated. His dress consisted of a snuff-
coloured coat and drab pantaloons, the former evidently seldom subjected
to the annoyance of a brush, and the latter exhibiting here and there
spots of something which, if not grease, bore a strong resemblance to it;
add to these articles an immense frill, seldom of the purest white, but
invariably of the finest French cambric, and you have some idea of his
dress. He had rather a remarkable stoop, but his step was rapid and
vigorous, and as he hurried along the streets, he would glance to the
right and left with a pair of big eyes like plums, and on recognizing any
one would exalt a pair of grizzled eyebrows, and slightly kiss a tawny
and ungloved hand. At certain hours of the day he might be seen entering
the doors of female boarding-schools, generally with a book in his hand,
and perhaps another just peering from the orifice of a capacious back
pocket; and at a certain season of the year he might be seen, dressed in
white, before the altar of a certain small popish chapel, chanting from
the breviary in very intelligible Latin, or perhaps reading from the desk
in utterly unintelligible English. Such was my preceptor in the French
and Italian tongues. "Exul sacerdos; vone banished priest. I came into
England twenty-five years ago, 'my dear.'"

CHAPTER XV.

Monsieur Dante--Condemned Musket--Sporting--Sweet Rivulet--The Earl's
Home--The Pool--The Sonorous Voice--What dost Thou Read?--Man of
Peace--Zohar and Mishna--Money Changers.

So I studied French and Italian under the tuition of the banished priest,
to whose house I went regularly every evening to receive instruction. I
made considerable progress in the acquisition of the two languages. I
found the French by far the most difficult, chiefly on account of the
accent, which my master himself possessed in no great purity, being a
Norman by birth. The Italian was my favourite.

"_Vous serez un jour un grand philologue_, _mon cher_," said the old man,
on our arriving at the conclusion of Dante's Hell.

"I hope I shall be something better," said I, "before I die, or I shall
have lived to little purpose."

"That's true, my dear! philologist--one small poor dog. What would you
wish to be?"

"Many things sooner than that; for example, I would rather be like him
who wrote this book."

"_Quoi_, _Monsieur Dante_? He was a vagabond, my dear, forced to fly
from his country. No, my dear, if you would be like one poet, be like
Monsieur Boileau; he is the poet."

"I don't think so."

"How, not think so? He wrote very respectable verses; lived and died
much respected by everybody. T'other, one bad dog, forced to fly from
his country--died with not enough to pay his undertaker."

"Were you not forced to flee from your country?"

"That very true; but there is much difference between me and this Dante.
He fled from country because he had one bad tongue which he shook at his
betters. I fly because benefice gone, and head going; not on account of
the badness of my tongue."

"Well," said I, "you can return now; the Bourbons are restored."

"I find myself very well here; not bad country. _Il est vrai que la
France sera toujours la France_; but all are dead there who knew me. I
find myself very well here. Preach in popish chapel, teach schismatic,
that is Protestant, child tongues and literature. I find myself very
well; and why? Because I know how to govern my tongue; never call people
hard names. _Ma foi_, _il y a beaucoup de difference entre moi et ce
sacre de Dante_."

Under this old man, who was well versed in the southern languages,
besides studying French and Italian, I acquired some knowledge of
Spanish. But I did not devote my time entirely to philology; I had other
pursuits. I had not forgotten the roving life I had led in former days,
nor its delights; neither was I formed by Nature to be a pallid indoor
student. No, no! I was fond of other and, I say it boldly, better
things than study. I had an attachment to the angle, ay, and to the gun
likewise. In our house was a condemned musket, bearing somewhere on its
lock, in rather antique characters, "Tower, 1746;" with this weapon I had
already, in Ireland, performed some execution among the rooks and
choughs, and it was now again destined to be a source of solace and
amusement to me, in the winter season, especially on occasions of severe
frost when birds abounded. Sallying forth with it at these times, far
into the country, I seldom returned at night without a string of
bullfinches, blackbirds, and linnets hanging in triumph round my neck.
When I reflect on the immense quantity of powder and shot which I crammed
down the muzzle of my uncouth fowling-piece, I am less surprised at the
number of birds which I slaughtered, than that I never blew my hands,
face, and old honey-combed gun, at one and the same time, to pieces.

But the winter, alas! (I speak as a fowler) seldom lasts in England more
than three or four months; so, during the rest of the year, when not
occupied with my philological studies, I had to seek for other
diversions. I have already given a hint that I was also addicted to the
angle. Of course there is no comparison between the two pursuits, the
rod and line seeming but very poor trumpery to one who has had the honour
of carrying a noble firelock. There is a time, however, for all things;
and we return to any favourite amusement with the greater zest, from
being compelled to relinquish it for a season. So, if I shot birds in
winter with my firelock, I caught fish in summer, or attempted so to do,
with my angle. I was not quite so successful, it is true, with the
latter as with the former; possibly because it afforded me less pleasure.
It was, indeed, too much of a listless pastime to inspire me with any
great interest. I not unfrequently fell into a doze whilst sitting on
the bank, and more than once let my rod drop from my hands into the
water.

At some distance from the city, behind a range of hilly ground which
rises towards the south-west, is a small river, the waters of which,
after many meanderings, eventually enter the principal river of the
district, and assist to swell the tide which it rolls down to the ocean.
It is a sweet rivulet, and pleasant it is to trace its course from its
spring-head, high up in the remote regions of Eastern Anglia, till it
arrives in the valley behind yon rising ground; and pleasant is that
valley, truly a goodly spot, but most lovely where yonder bridge crosses
the little stream. Beneath its arch the waters rush garrulously into a
blue pool, and are there stilled for a time, for the pool is deep, and
they appear to have sunk to sleep. Farther on, however, you hear their
voice again, where they ripple gaily over yon gravelly shallow. On the
left, the hill slopes gently down to the margin of the stream. On the
right is a green level, a smiling meadow, grass of the richest decks the
side of the slope; mighty trees also adorn it, giant elms, the nearest of
which, when the sun is nigh its meridian, fling a broad shadow upon the
face of the pool; through yon vista you catch a glimpse of the ancient
brick of an old English hall. It has a stately look, that old building,
indistinctly seen, as it is, among those umbrageous trees; you might
almost suppose it an earl's home; and such it was, or rather upon its
site stood an earl's home, in days of old, for there some old Kemp, some
Sigurd, or Thorkild, roaming in quest of a hearthstead, settled down in
the gray old time, when Thor and Freya were yet gods, and Odin was a
portentous name. Yon old hall is still called the Earl's Home, though
the hearth of Sigurd is now no more, and the bones of the old Kemp, and
of Sigrith his dame, have been mouldering for a thousand years in some
neighbouring knoll; perhaps yonder, where those tall Norwegian pines
shoot up so boldly into the air. It is said that the old Earl's galley
was once moored where is now that blue pool, for the waters of that
valley were not always sweet; yon valley was once an arm of the sea, a
salt lagoon, to which the war-barks of "Sigurd, in search of a home,"
found their way.

I was in the habit of spending many an hour on the banks of that rivulet
with my rod in my hand, and, when tired with angling, would stretch
myself on the grass, and gaze upon the waters as they glided past, and
not unfrequently, divesting myself of my dress, I would plunge into the
deep pool which I have already mentioned, for I had long since learned to
swim. And it came to pass, that on one hot summer's day, after bathing
in the pool, I passed along the meadow till I came to a shallow part,
and, wading over to the opposite side, I adjusted my dress, and commenced
fishing in another pool, beside which was a small clump of hazels.

And there I sat upon the bank, at the bottom of the hill which slopes
down from "the Earl's home;" my float was on the waters, and my back was
towards the old hall. I drew up many fish, small and great, which I took
from off the hook mechanically, and flung upon the bank, for I was almost
unconscious of what I was about, for my mind was not with my fish. I was
thinking of my earlier years--of the Scottish crags and the heaths of
Ireland--and sometimes my mind would dwell on my studies--on the sonorous
stanzas of Dante, rising and falling like the waves of the sea--or would
strive to remember a couplet or two of poor Monsieur Boileau.

"Canst thou answer to thy conscience for pulling all those fish out of
the water, and leaving them to gasp in the sun?" said a voice, clear and
sonorous as a bell.

I started, and looked round. Close behind me stood the tall figure of a
man, dressed in raiment of quaint and singular fashion, but of goodly
materials. He was in the prime and vigour of manhood; his features
handsome and noble, but full of calmness and benevolence; at least I
thought so, though they were somewhat shaded by a hat of finest beaver,
with broad drooping eaves.

"Surely that is a very cruel diversion in which thou indulgest, my young
friend?" he continued.

"I am sorry for it, if it be, sir," said I, rising; "but I do not think
it cruel to fish."

"What are thy reasons for not thinking so?"

"Fishing is mentioned frequently in Scripture. Simon Peter was a
fisherman."

"True; and Andrew and his brother. But thou forgettest: they did not
follow fishing as a diversion, as I fear thou doest.--Thou readest the
Scriptures?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?--not daily?--that is to be regretted. What profession dost
thou make?--I mean to what religious denomination dost thou belong, my
young friend?"

"Church."

"It is a very good profession--there is much of Scripture contained in
its liturgy. Dost thou read aught beside the Scriptures?"

"Sometimes."

"What dost thou read besides?"

"Greek, and Dante."

"Indeed; then thou hast the advantage over myself; I can only read the
former. Well, I am rejoiced to find that thou hast other pursuits beside
thy fishing. Dost thou know Hebrew?"

"No."

"Thou shouldest study it. Why dost thou not undertake the study?"

"I have no books."

"I will lend thee books, if thou wish to undertake the study. I live
yonder at the hall, as perhaps thou knowest. I have a library there, in
which are many curious books, both in Greek and Hebrew, which I will show
to thee, whenever thou mayest find it convenient to come and see me.
Farewell! I am glad to find that thou hast pursuits more satisfactory
than thy cruel fishing."

And the man of peace departed, and left me on the bank of the stream.
Whether from the effect of his words, or from want of inclination to the
sport, I know not, but from that day I became less and less a
practitioner of that "cruel fishing." I rarely flung line and angle into
the water, but I not unfrequently wandered by the banks of the pleasant
rivulet. It seems singular to me, on reflection, that I never availed
myself of his kind invitation. I say singular, for the extraordinary,
under whatever form, had long had no slight interest for me: and I had
discernment enough to perceive that yon was no common man. Yet I went
not near him, certainly not from bashfulness, or timidity, feelings to
which I had long been an entire stranger. Am I to regret this? perhaps,
for I might have learned both wisdom and righteousness from those calm,
quiet lips, and my after-course might have been widely different. As it
was, I fell in with other guess companions, from whom I received widely
different impressions than those I might have derived from him. When
many years had rolled on, long after I had attained manhood, and had seen
and suffered much, and when our first interview had long since been
effaced from the mind of the man of peace, I visited him in his venerable
hall, and partook of the hospitality of his hearth. And there I saw his
gentle partner and his fair children, and on the morrow he showed me the
books of which he had spoken years before, by the side of the stream. In
the low, quiet chamber, whose one window, shaded by a gigantic elm, looks
down the slope towards the pleasant stream, he took from the shelf his
learned books, Zohar and Mishna, Toldoth Jesu and Abarbenel.

"I am fond of these studies," said he, "which, perhaps, is not to be
wondered at, seeing that our people have been compared to the Jews. In
one respect I confess we are similar to them: we are fond of getting
money. I do not like this last author, this Abarbenel, the worse for
having been a money-changer. I am a banker myself, as thou knowest."

And would there were many like him, amidst the money-changers of princes!
The hall of many an earl lacks the bounty, the palace of many a prelate
the piety and learning, which adorn the quiet Quaker's home!

CHAPTER XVI.

Fair of Horses--Looks of Respect--The Fast Trotter--Pair of Eyes--Strange
Men--Jasper, Your Pal--Force of Blood--Young Lady with Diamonds--Not
Quite so Beautiful.

I was standing on the castle hill in the midst of a fair of horses.

I have already had occasion to mention this castle. It is the remains of
what was once a Norman stronghold, and is perched upon a round mound or
monticle, in the midst of the old city. Steep is this mound and scarped,
evidently by the hand of man; a deep gorge, over which is flung a bridge,
separates it, on the south, from a broad swell of open ground called "the
hill;" of old the scene of many a tournament and feat of Norman chivalry,
but now much used as a show-place for cattle, where those who buy and
sell beeves and other beasts resort at stated periods.

So it came to pass that I stood upon this hill, observing a fair of
horses.

The reader is already aware that I had long since conceived a passion for
the equine race, a passion in which circumstances had of late not
permitted me to indulge. I had no horses to ride, but I took pleasure in
looking at them; and I had already attended more than one of these fairs:
the present was lively enough, indeed horse fairs are seldom dull. There
was shouting and whooping, neighing and braying; there was galloping and
trotting; fellows with highlows and white stockings, and with many a
string dangling from the knees of their tight breeches, were running
desperately, holding horses by the halter, and in some cases dragging
them along; there were long-tailed steeds, and dock-tailed steeds of
every degree and breed; there were droves of wild ponies, and long rows
of sober cart horses; there were donkeys, and even mules: the last rare
things to be seen in damp, misty England, for the mule pines in mud and
rain, and thrives best with a hot sun above and a burning sand below.
There were--oh, the gallant creatures! I hear their neigh upon the wind;
there were--goodliest sight of all--certain enormous quadrupeds only seen
to perfection in our native isle, led about by dapper grooms, their manes
ribanded and their tails curiously clubbed and balled. Ha! ha!--how
distinctly do they say, ha! ha!

An old man draws nigh, he is mounted on a lean pony, and he leads by the
bridle one of these animals; nothing very remarkable about that creature,
unless in being smaller than the rest and gentle, which they are not; he
is not of the sightliest look; he is almost dun, and over one eye a thick
film has gathered. But stay! there _is_ something remarkable about that
horse, there is something in his action in which he differs from all the
rest: as he advances, the clamour is hushed! all eyes are turned upon
him--what looks of interest--of respect--and, what is this? people are
taking off their hats--surely not to that steed! Yes, verily! men,
especially old men, are taking off their hats to that one-eyed steed, and
I hear more than one deep-drawn ah!

"What horse is that?" said I to a very old fellow, the counterpart of the
old man on the pony, save that the last wore a faded suit of velveteen,
and this one was dressed in a white frock.

"The best in mother England," said the very old man, taking a knobbed
stick from his mouth, and looking me in the face, at first carelessly,
but presently with something like interest; "he is old like myself, but
can still trot his twenty miles an hour. You won't live long, my swain;
tall and overgrown ones like thee never does; yet, if you should chance
to reach my years, you may boast to thy great grand boys, thou hast seen
Marshland Shales."

Amain I did for the horse what I would neither do for earl or baron,
doffed my hat; yes! I doffed my hat to the wondrous horse, the fast
trotter, the best in mother England; and I, too, drew a deep ah! and
repeated the words of the old fellows around. "Such a horse as this we
shall never see again; a pity that he is so old."

Now during all this time I had a kind of consciousness that I had been
the object of some person's observation; that eyes were fastened upon me
from somewhere in the crowd. Sometimes I thought myself watched from
before, sometimes from behind; and occasionally methought that, if I just
turned my head to the right or left, I should meet a peering and
inquiring glance; and indeed once or twice I did turn, expecting to see
somebody whom I knew, yet always without success; though it appeared to
me that I was but a moment too late, and that some one had just slipped
away from the direction to which I turned, like the figure in a magic
lanthorn. Once I was quite sure that there were a pair of eyes glaring
over my right shoulder; my attention, however, was so fully occupied with
the objects which I have attempted to describe, that I thought very
little of this coming and going, this flitting and dodging of I knew not
whom or what. It was, after all, a matter of sheer indifference to me
who was looking at me. I could only wish, whomsoever it might be, to be
more profitably employed; so I continued enjoying what I saw; and now
there was a change in the scene, the wondrous old horse departed with his
aged guardian; other objects of interest are at hand; two or three men on
horseback are hurrying through the crowd, they are widely different in
their appearance from the other people of the fair; not so much in dress,
for they are clad something after the fashion of rustic jockeys, but in
their look--no light brown hair have they, no ruddy cheeks, no blue quiet
glances belong to them; their features are dark, their locks long, black,
and shining, and their eyes are wild; they are admirable horsemen, but
they do not sit the saddle in the manner of common jockeys, they seem to
float or hover upon it, like gulls upon the waves; two of them are mere
striplings, but the third is a very tall man with a countenance
heroically beautiful, but wild, wild, wild. As they rush along, the
crowd give way on all sides, and now a kind of ring or circus is formed,
within which the strange men exhibit their horsemanship, rushing past
each other, in and out, after the manner of a reel, the tall man
occasionally balancing himself upon the saddle, and standing erect on one
foot. He had just regained his seat after the latter feat, and was about
to push his horse to a gallop, when a figure started forward close from
beside me, and laying his hand on his neck, and pulling him gently
downward, appeared to whisper something into his ear; presently the tall
man raised his head, and, scanning the crowd for a moment in the
direction in which I was standing, fixed his eyes full upon me, and anon
the countenance of the whisperer was turned, but only in part, and the
side-glance of another pair of wild eyes was directed towards my face,
but the entire visage of the big black man, half stooping as he was, was
turned full upon mine.