Lavengro

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That night I dreamed I had acquired a colossal fortune, some four hundred
thousand pounds, by the Armenian way of doing business, but suddenly woke
in dreadful perplexity as to how I should dispose of it.

About nine o'clock next morning I set off to the house of the Armenian; I
had never called upon him so early before, and certainly never with a
heart beating with so much eagerness; but the situation of my affairs had
become very critical, and I thought that I ought to lose no time in
informing the Armenian that I was at length perfectly willing either to
translate the Haik Esop under his superintendence, or to accept a seat at
the desk opposite to the Moldavian clerk, and acquire the secrets of
Armenian commerce. With a quick step I entered the counting-room, where,
notwithstanding the earliness of the hour, I found the clerk, busied as
usual at his desk.

He had always appeared to me a singular being, this same Moldavian clerk.
A person of fewer words could scarcely be conceived: provided his master
were at home, he would, on my inquiring, nod his head; and, provided he
were not, he would invariably reply with the monosyllable, "no,"
delivered in a strange guttural tone. On the present occasion, being
full of eagerness and impatience, I was about to pass by him to the
apartment above, without my usual inquiry, when he lifted his head from
the ledger in which he was writing, and, laying down his pen, motioned to
me with his forefinger, as if to arrest my progress; whereupon I stopped,
and, with a palpitating heart, demanded whether the master of the house
was at home? The Moldavian clerk replied with his usual guttural, and,
opening his desk, ensconced his head therein.

"It does not much matter," said I, "I suppose I shall find him at home
after 'Change; it does not much matter, I can return."

I was turning away with the intention of leaving the room; at this
moment, however, the head of the Moldavian clerk became visible, and I
observed a letter in his hand, which he had inserted in the desk at the
same time with his head; this he extended towards me, making at the same
time a side-long motion with his head, as much as to say that it
contained something which interested me.

I took the letter, and the Moldavian clerk forthwith resumed his
occupation. The back of the letter bore my name, written in Armenian
characters: with a trembling hand I broke the seal, and, unfolding the
letter, I beheld several lines also written in the letters of Mesroub,
the Cadmus of the Armenians.

I stared at the lines, and at first could not make out a syllable of
their meaning; at last, how ever, by continued staring, I discovered
that, though the letters were Armenian, the words were English; in about
ten minutes I had contrived to decipher the sense of the letter; it ran
somewhat in this style:--

"MY DEAR FRIEND,--

"The words which you uttered in our last conversation have made a
profound impression upon me; I have thought them over day and night,
and have come to the conclusion that it is my bounden duty to attack
the Persians. When these lines are delivered to you, I shall be on
the route to Ararat. A mercantile speculation will be to the world
the ostensible motive of my journey, and it is singular enough that
one which offers considerable prospect of advantage has just presented
itself on the confines of Persia. Think not, however, that motives of
lucre would have been sufficiently powerful to tempt me to the East at
the present moment. I may speculate, it is true; but I should
scarcely have undertaken the journey but for your pungent words
inciting me to attack the Persians. Doubt not that I will attack them
on the first opportunity. I thank you heartily for putting me in mind
of my duty. I have hitherto, to use your own words, been too fond of
money-getting, like all my countrymen. I am much indebted to you;
farewell! and may every prosperity await you."

For some time after I had deciphered the epistle, I stood as if rooted to
the floor. I felt stunned--my last hope was gone; presently a feeling
arose in my mind--a feeling of self-reproach. Whom had I to blame but
myself for the departure of the Armenian? Would he have ever thought of
attacking the Persians had I not put the idea into his head? he had told
me in his epistle that he was indebted to me for the idea. But for that,
he might at the present moment have been in London, increasing his
fortune by his usual methods, and I might be commencing under his
auspices the translation of the Haik Esop, with the promise, no doubt, of
a considerable remuneration for my trouble; or I might be taking a seat
opposite the Moldavian clerk, and imbibing the first rudiments of doing
business after the Armenian fashion, with the comfortable hope of
realizing, in a short time, a fortune of three or four hundred thousand
pounds; but the Armenian was now gone, and farewell to the fine hopes I
had founded upon him the day before. What was I to do? I looked wildly
around, till my eyes rested on the Moldavian clerk, who was writing away
in his ledger with particular vehemence. Not knowing what to do or say,
I thought I might as well ask the Moldavian clerk when the Armenian had
departed, and when he thought that he would return. It is true it
mattered little to me when he departed, seeing that he was gone, and it
was evident that he would not be back soon; but I knew not what to do,
and in pure helplessness thought I might as well ask; so I went up to the
Moldavian clerk, and asked him when the Armenian had departed, and
whether he had been gone two days or three? Whereupon the Moldavian
clerk, looking up from his ledger, made certain signs, which I could by
no means understand. I stood astonished, but, presently recovering
myself, inquired when he considered it probable that the master would
return, and whether he thought it would be two months or--my tongue
faltered--two years; whereupon the Moldavian clerk made more signs than
before, and yet more unintelligible; as I persisted, however, he flung
down his pen, and, putting his thumb into his mouth, moved it rapidly,
causing the nail to sound against the lower jaw; whereupon I saw that he
was dumb, and hurried away, for I had always entertained a horror of dumb
people, having once heard my mother say, when I was a child, that dumb
people were half demoniacs, or little better.

CHAPTER LII.

Kind of Stupor--Peace of God--Divine Hand--Farewell, Child--The
Fair--Massive Edifice--Battered Tars--Lost! Lost!--Good Day, Gentlemen.

Leaving the house of the Armenian, I strolled about for some time; almost
mechanically my feet conducted me to London Bridge, to the booth in which
stood the stall of the old apple-woman; the sound of her voice aroused
me, as I sat in a kind of stupor on the stone bench beside her; she was
inquiring what was the matter with me.

At first, I believe, I answered her very incoherently, for I observed
alarm beginning to depict itself upon her countenance. Rousing myself,
however, I in my turn put a few questions to her upon her present
condition and prospects. The old woman's countenance cleared up
instantly; she informed me that she had never been more comfortable in
her life; that her trade, her _honest_ trade--laying an emphasis on the
word honest--had increased of late wonderfully; that her health was
better, and, above all, that she felt no fear and horror "here," laying
her hand on her breast.

On my asking her whether she still heard voices in the night, she told me
that she frequently did; but that the present were mild voices, sweet
voices, encouraging voices, very different from the former ones; that a
voice only the night previous, had cried out about "the peace of God," in
particularly sweet accents; a sentence which she remembered to have read
in her early youth in the primer, but which she had clean forgotten till
the voice the night before had brought it to her recollection. After a
pause, the old woman said to me, "I believe, dear, that it is the blessed
book you brought me which has wrought this goodly change. How glad I am
now that I can read; but oh what a difference between the book you
brought to me and the one you took away. I believe the one you brought
is written by the finger of God, and the other by--"

"Don't abuse the book," said I, "it is an excellent book for those who
can understand it; it was not exactly suited to you, and perhaps it had
been better had you never read it--and yet, who knows? Peradventure, if
you had not read that book, you would not have been fitted for the
perusal of the one which you say is written by the finger of God;" and,
pressing my hand to my head, I fell into a deep fit of musing. "What,
after all," thought I, "if there should be more order and system in the
working of the moral world than I have thought? Does there not seem in
the present instance to be something like the working of a Divine hand? I
could not conceive why this woman, better educated than her mother,
should have been, as she certainly was, a worse character than her
mother. Yet perhaps this woman may be better and happier than her mother
ever was; perhaps she is so already--perhaps this world is not a wild,
lying dream, as I have occasionally supposed it to be."

But the thought of my own situation did not permit me to abandon myself
much longer to these musings. I started up. "Where are you going,
child?" said the woman anxiously. "I scarcely know," said I; "anywhere."
"Then stay here, child," said she; "I have much to say to you." "No,"
said I, "I shall be better moving about;" and I was moving away, when it
suddenly occurred to me that I might never see this woman again; and
turning round offered her my hand, and bade her good-bye. "Farewell,
child," said the old woman, "and God bless you!" I then moved along the
bridge until I reached the Southwark side, and, still holding on my
course, my mind again became quickly abstracted from all surrounding
objects.

At length I found myself in a street or road, with terraces on either
side, and seemingly of interminable length, leading, as it would appear,
to the south-east. I was walking at a great rate--there were likewise a
great number of people, also walking at a great rate; also carts and
carriages driving at a great rate; and all, men, carts, and carriages,
going in the selfsame direction, namely, to the south-east. I stopped
for a moment and deliberated whether or not I should proceed. What
business had I in that direction? I could not say that I had any
particular business in that direction, but what could I do were I to turn
back? only walk about well-known streets; and, if I must walk, why not
continue in the direction in which I was to see whither the road and its
terraces led? I was here in a _terra incognita_, and an unknown place
had always some interest for me; moreover, I had a desire to know whither
all this crowd was going, and for what purpose. I thought they could not
be going far, as crowds seldom go far, especially at such a rate; so I
walked on more lustily than before, passing group after group of the
crowd, and almost vieing in speed with some of the carriages, especially
the hackney-coaches; and by dint of walking at this rate, the terraces
and houses becoming somewhat less frequent as I advanced, I reached in
about three quarters of an hour a kind of low dingy town, in the
neighbourhood of the river; the streets were swarming with people, and I
concluded, from the number of wild-beast shows, caravans, gingerbread
stalls, and the like, that a fair was being held. Now, as I had always
been partial to fairs, I felt glad that I had fallen in with the crowd
which had conducted me to the present one, and, casting away as much as I
was able all gloomy thoughts, I did my best to enter into the diversions
of the fair; staring at the wonderful representations of animals on
canvas hung up before the shows of wild beasts, which, by-the-bye, are
frequently found much more worthy of admiration than the real beasts
themselves; listening to the jokes of the merry-andrews from the
platforms in front of the temporary theatres, or admiring the splendid
tinsel dresses of the performers who thronged the stages in the intervals
of the entertainments; and in this manner, occasionally gazing and
occasionally listening, I passed through the town till I came in front of
a large edifice looking full upon the majestic bosom of the Thames.

It was a massive stone edifice, built in an antique style, and black with
age, with a broad esplanade between it and the river, on which, mixed
with a few people from the fair, I observed moving about a great many
individuals in quaint dresses of blue, with strange three-cornered hats
on their heads; most of them were mutilated; this had a wooden leg--this
wanted an arm; some had but one eye; and as I gazed upon the edifice, and
the singular-looking individuals who moved before it, I guessed where I
was. "I am at ---" said I; "these individuals are battered tars of Old
England, and this edifice, once the favourite abode of Glorious
Elizabeth, is the refuge which a grateful country has allotted to them.
Here they can rest their weary bodies; at their ease talk over the
actions in which they have been injured; and, with the tear of enthusiasm
flowing from their eyes, boast how they have trod the deck of fame with
Rodney, or Nelson, or others whose names stand emblazoned in the naval
annals of their country."

Turning to the right, I entered a park or wood consisting of enormous
trees, occupying the foot, sides, and top of a hill, which rose behind
the town; there were multitudes of people among the trees, diverting
themselves in various ways. Coming to the top of the hill, I was
presently stopped by a lofty wall, along which I walked, till, coming to
a small gate, I passed through, and found myself on an extensive green
plain, on one side bounded in part by the wall of the park, and on the
others, in the distance, by extensive ranges of houses; to the south-east
was a lofty eminence, partially clothed with wood. The plain exhibited
an animated scene, a kind of continuation of the fair below; there were
multitudes of people upon it, many tents, and shows; there was also horse-
racing, and much noise and shouting, the sun shining brightly overhead.
After gazing at the horse-racing for a little time, feeling myself
somewhat tired, I went up to one of the tents, and laid myself down on
the grass. There was much noise in the tent. "Who will stand me?" said
a voice with a slight tendency to lisp. "Will you, my lord?" "Yes,"
said another voice. Then there was a sound as of a piece of money
banging on a table. "Lost! lost! lost!" cried several voices; and then
the banging down of the money, and the "lost! lost! lost!" were
frequently repeated; at last the second voice exclaimed, "I will try no
more; you have cheated me." "Never cheated any one in my life, my
lord--all fair--all chance. Them that finds, wins--them that can't
finds, loses. Any one else try? Who'll try? Will you, my lord?" and
then it appeared that some other lord tried, for I heard more money flung
down. Then again the cry of "Lost! lost!"--then again the sound of
money, and so on. Once or twice, but not more, I heard "Won! won!" but
the predominant cry was "Lost! lost!" At last there was a considerable
hubbub, and the words "Cheat!" "Rogue!" and "You filched away the pea!"
were used freely by more voices than one, to which the voice with the
tendency to lisp replied, "Never filched a pea in my life; would scorn
it. Always glad when folks wins; but, as those here don't appear to be
civil, nor to wish to play any more, I shall take myself off with my
table; so, good day, gentlemen."

CHAPTER LIII.

Singular Table--No Money--Out of Employ--My Bonnet--We of the
Thimble--Good Wages--Wisely Resolved--Strangest Way in the World--Fat
Gentleman--Not Such Another--First Edition--Not Very Easy--Won't
Close--Avella Gorgio--Alarmed Look.

Presently a man emerged from the tent, bearing before him a rather
singular table; it appeared to be of white deal, was exceedingly small at
the top, and with very long legs. At a few yards from the entrance he
paused, and looked round, as if to decide on the direction which he
should take; presently, his eye glancing on me as I lay upon the ground,
he started, and appeared for a moment inclined to make off as quick as
possible, table and all. In a moment, however, he seemed to recover
assurance, and, coming up to the place where I was, the long legs of the
table projecting before him, he cried, "Glad to see you here, my lord."

"Thank you," said I, "it's a fine day."

"Very fine, my lord; will your lordship play? Them that finds, wins--them
that don't finds, loses."

"Play at what?" said I.

"Only at the thimble and pea, my lord."

"I never heard of such a game."

"Didn't you? Well, I'll soon teach you," said he, placing the table
down. "All you have to do is to put a sovereign down on my table, and to
find the pea, which I put under one of my thimbles. If you can find
it,--and it is easy enough to find it,--I give you a sovereign besides
your own: for them that finds, wins."

"And them that don't find, loses," said I; "no, I don't wish to play."

"Why not, my lord?"

"Why, in the first place, I have no money."

"Oh, you have no money; that of course alters the case. If you have no
money, you can't play. Well, I suppose I must be seeing after my
customers," said he, glancing over the plain.

"Good day," said I.

"Good day," said the man slowly, but without moving, and as if in
reflection. After a moment or two, looking at me inquiringly, he added,
"Out of employ?"

"Yes," said I, "out of employ."

The man measured me with his eye as I lay on the ground. At length he
said, "May I speak a word or two to you, my lord?"

"As many as you please," said I.

"Then just come a little out of hearing, a little farther on the grass,
if you please, my lord."

"Why do you call me my lord?" said I, as I arose and followed him.

"We of the thimble always calls our customers lords," said the man; "but
I won't call you such a foolish name any more; come along."

The man walked along the plain till he came to the side of a dry pit,
when, looking round to see that no one was nigh, he laid his table on the
grass, and, sitting down with his legs over the side of the pit, he
motioned me to do the same. "So you are in want of employ," said he,
after I had sat down beside him.

"Yes," said I, "I am very much in want of employ."

"I think I can find you some."

"What kind?" said I.

"Why," said the man, "I think you would do to be my bonnet."

"Bonnet!" said I, "what is that?"

"Don't you know? However, no wonder, as you had never heard of the
thimble-and-pea game, but I will tell you. We of the game are very much
exposed; folks when they have lost their money, as those who play with us
mostly do, sometimes uses rough language, calls us cheats, and sometimes
knocks our hats over our eyes; and what's more, with a kick under our
table, causes the top deals to fly off; this is the third table I have
used this day, the other two being broken by uncivil customers: so we of
the game generally like to have gentlemen go about with us to take our
part, and encourage us, though pretending to know nothing about us; for
example, when the customer says, 'I'm cheated,' the bonnet must say, 'No,
you a'n't, it is all right;' or, when my hat is knocked over my eyes, the
bonnet must square and say, 'I never saw the man before in all my life,
but I won't see him ill-used;' and so, when they kicks at the table, the
bonnet must say, 'I won't see the table ill-used, such a nice table too;
besides, I want to play myself;' and then I would say to the bonnet,
'Thank you, my lord, them that finds, wins;' and then the bonnet plays,
and I lets the bonnet win."

"In a word," said I, "the bonnet means the man who covers you, even as
the real bonnet covers the head."

"Just so," said the man, "I see you are awake, and would soon make a
first-rate bonnet."

"Bonnet," said I, musingly; "bonnet; it is metaphorical."

"Is it?" said the man.

"Yes," said I, "like the cant words--"

"Bonnet is cant," said the man; "we of the thimble, as well as all
clyfakers and the like, understand cant, as, of course, must every
bonnet; so, if you are employed by me, you had better learn it as soon as
you can, that we may discourse together without being understood by every
one. Besides covering his principal, a bonnet must have his eyes about
him, for the trade of the pea, though a strictly honest one, is not
altogether lawful; so it is the duty of the bonnet, if he sees the
constable coming, to say, the gorgio's welling."

"That is not cant," said I, "that is the language of the Rommany Chals."

"Do you know those people?" said the man.

"Perfectly," said I, "and their language too."

"I wish I did," said the man, "I would give ten pounds and more to know
the language of the Rommany Chals. There's some of it in the language of
the pea and thimble; how it came there I don't know, but so it is. I
wish I knew it, but it is difficult. You'll make a capital bonnet; shall
we close?"

"What would the wages be?" I demanded.

"Why, to a first-rate bonnet, as I think you would prove, I could afford
to give from forty to fifty shillings a week."

"Is it possible?" said I.

"Good wages, a'n't they?" said the man.

"First rate," said I; "bonneting is more profitable than reviewing."

"Anan?" said the man.

"Or translating; I don't think the Armenian would have paid me at that
rate for translating his Esop."

"Who is he?" said the man.

"Esop?"

"No, I know what that is, Esop's cant for a hunchback; but t'other?"

"You should know," said I.

"Never saw the man in all my life."

"Yes, you have," said I, "and felt him too; don't you remember the
individual from whom you took the pocket-book?"

"Oh, that was he; well, the less said about that matter the better; I
have left off that trade, and taken to this, which is a much better.
Between ourselves, I am not sorry that I did not carry off that pocket-
book; if I had, it might have encouraged me in the trade, in which, had I
remained, I might have been lagged, sent abroad, as I had been already
imprisoned; so I determined to leave it off at all hazards, though I was
hard up, not having a penny in the world."

"And wisely resolved," said I, "it was a bad and dangerous trade; I
wonder you should ever have embraced it."

"It is all very well talking," said the man, "but there is a reason for
everything; I am the son of a Jewess, by a military officer,"--and then
the man told me his story. I shall not repeat the man's story, it was a
poor one, a vile one; at last he observed, "So that affair which you know
of determined me to leave the filching trade, and take up with a more
honest and safe one; so at last I thought of the pea and thimble, but I
wanted funds, especially to pay for lessons at the hands of a master, for
I knew little about it."

"Well," said I, "how did you get over that difficulty?"

"Why," said the man, "I thought I should never have got over it. What
funds could I raise? I had nothing to sell; the few clothes I had I
wanted, for we of the thimble must always appear decent, or nobody would
come near us. I was at my wits' ends; at last I got over my difficulty
in the strangest way in the world."

"What was that?"

"By an old thing which I had picked up some time before--a book."

"A book?" said I.

"Yes, which I had taken out of your lordship's pocket one day as you were
walking the streets in a great hurry. I thought it was a pocket-book at
first, full of bank notes, perhaps," continued he, laughing. "It was
well for me, however, that it was not, for I should have soon spent the
notes; as it was, I had flung the old thing down with an oath, as soon as
I brought it home. When I was so hard up, however, after the affair with
that friend of yours, I took it up one day, and thought I might make
something by it to support myself a day with. Chance or something else
led me into a grand shop; there was a man there who seemed to be the
master, talking to a jolly, portly old gentleman, who seemed to be a
country squire. Well, I went up to the first, and offered it for sale;
he took the book, opened it at the title-page, and then all of a sudden
his eyes glistened, and he showed it to the fat, jolly gentleman, and his
eyes glistened too, and I heard him say, 'How singular!' and then the two
talked together in a speech I didn't understand--I rather thought it was
French, at any rate it wasn't cant; and presently the first asked me what
I would take for the book. Now I am not altogether a fool nor am I
blind, and I had narrowly marked all that passed, and it came into my
head that now was the time for making a man of myself, at any rate I
could lose nothing by a little confidence; so I looked the man boldly in
the face, and said, 'I will have five guineas for that book, there a'n't
such another in the whole world.' 'Nonsense,' said the first man, 'there
are plenty of them, there have been nearly fifty editions to my
knowledge; I will give you five shillings.' 'No,' said I, 'I'll not take
it, for I don't like to be cheated, so give me my book again;' and I
attempted to take it away from the fat gentleman's hand. 'Stop,' said
the younger man, 'are you sure that you won't take less?' 'Not a
farthing,' said I; which was not altogether true, but I said so. 'Well,'
said the fat gentleman, 'I will give you what you ask;' and sure enough
he presently gave me the money; so I made a bow, and was leaving the
shop, when it came into my head that there was something odd in all this,
and, as I had got the money in my pocket, I turned back, and, making
another bow, said, 'May I be so bold as to ask why you gave me all this
money for that 'ere dirty book? When I came into the shop, I should have
been glad to get a shilling for it; but I saw you wanted it, and asked
five guineas.' Then they looked at one another, and smiled, and shrugged
up their shoulders. Then the first man, looking at me, said, 'Friend,
you have been a little too sharp for us; however, we can afford to
forgive you, as my friend here has long been in quest of this particular
book; there are plenty of editions, as I told you, and a common copy is
not worth five shillings; but this is a first edition, and a copy of the
first edition is worth its weight in gold.'"