Lavengro

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"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 mean time 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
Bard--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 the 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 in 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 hands 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 a 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 stupified. 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 horror-
struck glance of my father above in the clouds; and there I would
continue groaning till the agony had, in some degree, passed away.

"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 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, I 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.