Lavengro

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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, exceedingly 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 has been of the simplest
and most unsatisfying description, by no means calculated to support the
exertions 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 this 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? O 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
sympathize with me; what a comfort to have any one, even a dumb brute, to
sympathize 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 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. O, how I sympathized 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 sympathized 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 should 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 dare say 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 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 out 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 shafts 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, where 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; and
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 of 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 is 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 Rome chabo by matriculation--one
of the right sort, and no mistake--Good day to ye, brother; I bids 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 grey 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."