Lavengro

G >> George Borrow >> Lavengro

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50

"Bring me a jug of ale," said I; "if you are the master, as I suppose you
are, by that same coat of yours, and your having no hat on your head."

"Don't be saucy, young fellow," said the landlord, for such he was,
"don't be saucy, or--" Whatever he intended to say, he left unsaid, for
fixing his eyes upon one of my hands, which I had placed by chance upon
the table, he became suddenly still.

This was my left hand, which was raw and swollen, from the blows dealt on
a certain hard skull in a recent combat. "What do you mean by staring at
my hand so?" said I, withdrawing it from the table.

"No offence, young man, no offence," said the landlord, in a quite
altered tone; "but the sight of your hand--," then observing that our
conversation began to attract the notice of the guests in the kitchen, he
interrupted himself, saying in an under tone, "But mum's the word for the
present, I will go and fetch the ale."

In about a minute he returned, with a jug of ale foaming high. "Here's
your health," said he, blowing off the foam, and drinking; but perceiving
that I looked rather dissatisfied, he murmured, "All's right, I glory in
you; but mum's the word." Then placing the jug on the table, he gave me
a confidential nod, and swaggered out of the room.

What can the silly impertinent fellow mean, thought I; but the ale was
now before me, and I hastened to drink, for my weakness was great, and my
mind was full of dark thoughts, the remains of the indescribable horror
of the preceding night. It may kill me, thought I, as I drank deep, but
who cares, anything is better than what I have suffered. I drank deep,
and then leaned back against the wall; it appeared as if a vapour was
stealing up into my brain, gentle and benign, soothing and stilling the
horror and the fear; higher and higher it mounted, and I felt nearly
overcome; but the sensation was delicious, compared with that I had
lately experienced, and now I felt myself nodding; and, bending down, I
laid my head on the table on my folded hands.

And in that attitude I remained some time, perfectly unconscious. At
length, by degrees, perception returned, and I lifted up my head. I felt
somewhat dizzy and bewildered, but the dark shadow had withdrawn itself
from me. And now, once more, I drank of the jug; this second draught did
not produce an overpowering effect upon me--it revived and strengthened
me--I felt a new man.

I looked around me: the kitchen had been deserted by the greater part of
the guests; besides myself, only four remained; these were seated at the
farther end. One was haranguing fiercely and eagerly; he was abusing
England, and praising America. At last he exclaimed, "So when I gets to
New York, I will toss up my hat, and damn the King."

That man must be a Radical, thought I.

CHAPTER LXXXVIII.

A Radical--Simple-Looking Man--Church of England--The
President--Aristocracy--Gin and Water--Mending the Roads--Persecuting
Church--Simon de Montford--Broken Bells--Get Up--Not for the Pope--Quay
of New York--Mumpers' Dingle--No Wish to Fight--First Draught--A Poor
Pipe--Half-a-crown Broke.

The individual whom I supposed to be a Radical, after a short pause,
again uplifted his voice; he was rather a strong-built fellow of about
thirty, with an ill-favoured countenance, a white hat on his head, a
snuff-coloured coat on his back, and when he was not speaking, a pipe in
his mouth. "Who would live in such a country as England?" he shouted.

"There is no country like America--" said his nearest neighbour, a man
also in a white hat, and of a very ill-favoured countenance--"there is no
country like America," said he, withdrawing a pipe from his mouth, "I
think I shall--" and here he took a draught from a jug, the contents of
which he appeared to have in common with the other,--"go to America one
of these days myself."

"Poor old England is not such a bad country, after all," said a third, a
simple-looking man in a labouring dress, who sat smoking a pipe without
anything before him. "If there was but a little more work to be got I
should have nothing to say against her. I hope, however--"

"You hope, who cares what you hope?" interrupted the first, in a savage
tone; "you are one of those sneaking hounds who are satisfied with dog's
wages, a bit of bread and a kick. Work, indeed, who, with the spirit of
a man, would work for a country where there is neither liberty of speech,
nor of action, a land full of beggarly aristocracy, hungry
borough-mongers, insolent parsons, and 'their wives and daughters,' as
William Cobbett says, in his 'Register.'"

"Ah, the Church of England has been a source of incalculable mischief to
these realms," said another.

The person who uttered these words sat rather aloof from the rest; he was
dressed in a long black surtout. I could not see much of his face,
partly owing to his keeping it very much directed to the ground, and
partly owing to a large slouched hat, which he wore; I observed, however,
that his hair was of a reddish tinge. On the table near him was a glass
and spoon.

"You are quite right," said the first, alluding to what this last had
said, "the Church of England has done incalculable mischief here. I
value no religion three halfpence, for I believe in none; but the one
that I hate most is the Church of England; so when I get to New York,
after I have shown the fine fellows on the quay a spice of me, by --- the
King, I'll toss up my hat again, and the --- Church of England too."

"And suppose the people of New York should clap you in the stocks?" said
I.

These words drew upon me the attention of the whole four. The Radical
and his companion stared at me ferociously; the man in black gave me a
peculiar glance from under his slouched hat; the simple-looking man in
the labouring dress laughed.

"What are you laughing at, you fool?" said the Radical, turning and
looking at the other, who appeared to be afraid of him, "hold your noise;
and a pretty fellow you," said he, looking at me, "to come here, and
speak against the great American nation."

"I speak against the great American nation?" said I, "I rather paid them
a compliment."

"By supposing they would put me in the stocks. Well, I call it abusing
them, to suppose they would do any such thing--stocks, indeed!--there are
no stocks in all the land. Put me in the stocks? why, the President will
come down to the quay, and ask me to dinner, as soon as he hears what I
have said about the King and Church."

"I shouldn't wonder," said I, "if you go to America, you will say of the
President and country what now you say of the King and Church, and cry
out for somebody to send you back to England."

The Radical dashed his pipe to pieces against the table. "I tell you
what, young fellow, you are a spy of the aristocracy, sent here to kick
up a disturbance."

"Kicking up a disturbance," said I, "is rather inconsistent with the
office of spy. If I were a spy, I should hold my head down, and say
nothing."

The man in black partially raised his head, and gave me another peculiar
glance.

"Well, if you ar'n't sent to spy, you are sent to bully, to prevent
people speaking, and to run down the great American nation; but you
sha'n't bully me. I say down with the aristocracy, the beggarly British
aristocracy. Come, what have you to say to that?"

"Nothing," said I.

"Nothing!" repeated the Radical.

"No," said I, "down with them as soon as you can."

"As soon as I can! I wish I could. But I can down with a bully of
theirs. Come, will you fight for them?"

"No," said I.

"You won't?"

"No," said I; "though from what I have seen of them I should say they are
tolerably able to fight for themselves."

"You won't fight for them," said the Radical triumphantly; "I thought so;
all bullies, especially those of the aristocracy, are cowards. Here,
landlord," said he, raising his voice, and striking against the table
with the jug, "some more ale--he won't fight for his friends."

"A white feather," said his companion.

"He! he!" tittered the man in black.

"Landlord, landlord," shouted the Radical, striking the table with the
jug louder than before. "Who called?" said the landlord, coming in at
last. "Fill this jug again," said the other, "and be quick about it."
"Does any one else want anything?" said the landlord. "Yes," said the
man in black; "you may bring me another glass of gin and water." "Cold?"
said the landlord. "Yes," said the man in black, "with a lump of sugar
in it."

"Gin and water cold, with a lump of sugar in it," said I, and struck the
table with my fist.

"Take some?" said the landlord, inquiringly.

"No," said I, "only something came into my head."

"He's mad," said the man in black.

"Not he," said the Radical. "He's only shamming; he knows his master is
here, and therefore has recourse to those manoeuvres, but it won't do.
Come, landlord, what are you staring at? Why don't you obey your orders?
Keeping your customers waiting in this manner is not the way to increase
your business."

The landlord looked at the Radical, and then at me. At last, taking the
jug and glass, he left the apartment, and presently returned with each
filled with its respective liquor. He placed the jug with beer before
the Radical, and the glass with the gin and water before the man in
black, and then, with a wink to me, he sauntered out.

"Here is your health, sir," said the man of the snuff-coloured coat,
addressing himself to the man in black, "I honour you for what you said
about the Church of England. Every one who speaks against the Church of
England has my warm heart. Down with it, I say, and may the stones of it
be used for mending the roads, as my friend William says in his
Register."

The man in black, with a courteous nod of his head, drank to the man in
the snuff-coloured coat. "With respect to the steeples," said he, "I am
not altogether of your opinion; they might be turned to better account
than to serve to mend the roads; they might still be used as places of
worship, but not for the worship of the Church of England. I have no
fault to find with the steeples, it is the Church itself which I am
compelled to arraign, but it will not stand long, the respectable part of
its ministers are already leaving it. It is a bad Church, a persecuting
Church."

"Whom does it persecute?" said I.

The man in black glanced at me slightly, and then replied slowly, "The
Catholics."

"And do those whom you call Catholics never persecute?" said I.

"Never," said the man in black.

"Did you ever read 'Fox's Book of Martyrs?'" said I.

"He! he!" tittered the man in black, "there is not a word of truth in
'Fox's Book of Martyrs.'"

"Ten times more than in the 'Flos Sanctorum,'" said I.

The man in black looked at me, but made no answer.

"And what say you to the Massacre of the Albigenses and the Vaudois,
'whose bones lie scattered on the cold Alp,' or the Revocation of the
Edict of Nantes?"

The man in black made no answer.

"Go to," said I, "it is because the Church of England is not a
persecuting Church, that those whom you call the respectable part are
leaving her; it is because they can't do with the poor Dissenters what
Simon de Montford did with the Albigenses, and the cruel Piedmontese with
the Vaudois, that they turn to bloody Rome; the Pope will no doubt
welcome them, for the Pope, do you see, being very much in want, will
welcome--"

"Hollo!" said the Radical, interfering. "What are you saying about the
Pope? I say hurrah for the Pope: I value no religion three halfpence, as
I said before, but if I were to adopt any, it should be the Popish, as
it's called, because I conceives the Popish to be the grand enemy of the
Church of England, of the beggarly aristocracy, and the borough-monger
system, so I won't hear the Pope abused while I am by. Come, don't look
fierce. You won't fight, you know, I have proved it; but I will give you
another chance--I will fight for the Pope, will you fight against him?"

"O dear me, yes," said I, getting up and stepping forward. "I am a quiet
peaceable young man, and, being so, am always ready to fight against the
Pope--the enemy of all peace and quiet--to refuse fighting for the
aristocracy is a widely different thing from refusing to fight against
the Pope--so come on, if you are disposed to fight for him. To the Pope
broken bells, to Saint James broken shells. No Popish vile oppression,
but the Protestant succession. Confusion to the Groyne, hurrah for the
Boyne, for the army at Clonmel, and the Protestant young gentlemen who
live there as well."

"An Orangeman," said the man in black.

"Not a Platitude," said I.

The man in black gave a slight start.

"Amongst that family," said I, "no doubt something may be done, but
amongst the Methodist preachers I should conceive that the success would
not be great."

The man in black sat quite still.

"Especially amongst those who have wives," I added.

The man in black stretched his hand towards his gin and water.

"However," said I, "we shall see what the grand movement will bring
about, and the results of the lessons in elocution."

The man in black lifted the glass up to his mouth, and in doing so, let
the spoon fall.

"But what has this to do with the main question?" said I, "I am waiting
here to fight against the Pope."

"Come, Hunter," said the companion of the man in the snuff-coloured coat,
"get up, and fight for the Pope."

"I don't care for the young fellow," said the man in the snuff-coloured
coat.

"I know you don't," said the other, "so get up, and serve him out."

"I could serve out three like him," said the man in the snuff-coloured
coat.

"So much the better for you," said the other, "the present work will be
all the easier for you, get up, and serve him out at once."

The man in the snuff-coloured coat did not stir.

"Who shows the white feather now?" said the simple-looking man.

"He! he! he!" tittered the man in black.

"Who told you to interfere?" said the Radical, turning ferociously
towards the simple-looking man; "say another word, and I'll--And you!"
said he, addressing himself to the man in black, "a pretty fellow you to
turn against me, after I had taken your part. I tell you what, you may
fight for yourself. I'll see you and your Pope in the pit of Eldon,
before I fight for either of you, so make the most of it."

"Then you won't fight?" said I.

"Not for the Pope," said the Radical; "I'll see the Pope--"

"Dear me!" said I, "not fight for the Pope, whose religion you would turn
to, if you were inclined for any. I see how it is, you are not fond of
fighting; but I'll give you another chance--you were abusing the Church
of England just now. I'll fight for it--will you fight against it?"

"Come, Hunter," said the other, "get up, and fight against the Church of
England."

"I have no particular quarrel against the Church of England," said the
man in the snuff-coloured coat, "my quarrel is with the aristocracy. If
I said anything against the Church, it was merely for a bit of corollary,
as Master William Cobbett would say; the quarrel with the Church belongs
to this fellow in black; so let him carry it on. However," he continued
suddenly, "I won't slink from the matter either; it shall never be said
by the fine fellows on the quay of New York, that I wouldn't fight
against the Church of England. So down with the beggarly aristocracy,
the Church, and the Pope, to the bottom of the pit of Eldon, and may the
Pope fall first, and the others upon him."

Thereupon, dashing his hat on the table, he placed himself in an attitude
of offence, and rushed forward. He was, as I have said before, a
powerful fellow, and might have proved a dangerous antagonist, more
especially to myself, who, after my recent encounter with the Flaming
Tinman, and my wrestlings with the evil one, was in anything but fighting
order. Any collision, however, was prevented by the landlord, who,
suddenly appearing, thrust himself between us. "There shall be no
fighting here," said he, "no one shall fight in this house, except it be
with myself; so if you two have anything to say to each other, you had
better go into the field behind the house. But you fool," said he,
pushing Hunter violently on the breast, "do you know whom you are going
to tackle with--this is the young chap that beat Blazing Bosville, only
as late as yesterday, in Mumpers' Dingle. Grey Moll told me all about it
last night, when she came for some brandy for her husband, who, she said,
had been half killed; and she described the young man to me so closely,
that I knew him at once, that is, as soon as I saw how his left hand was
bruised, for she told me he was a left hand hitter. Ar'n't it all true,
young man? Ar'n't you he that beat Flaming Bosville in Mumpers' Dingle?"
"I never beat Flaming Bosville," said I, "he beat himself. Had he not
struck his hand against a tree, I shouldn't be here at the present
moment." "Hear! hear!" said the landlord, "now that's just as it should
be; I like a modest man, for, as the parson says, nothing sits better
upon a young man than modesty. I remember, when I was young, fighting
with Tom, of Hopton, the best man that ever pulled off coat in England. I
remember, too, that I won the battle; for I happened to hit Tom, of
Hopton, in the mark, as he was coming in, so that he lost his wind, and
falling squelch on the ground, do ye see, he lost the battle, though I am
free to confess that he was a better man than myself; indeed, the best
man that ever fought in England; yet still I won the battle, as every
customer of mine, and everybody within twelve miles round, has heard over
and over again. Now, Mr. Hunter, I have one thing to say, if you choose
to go into the field behind the house, and fight the young man, you can.
I'll back him for ten pounds; but no fighting in my kitchen--because why?
I keeps a decent kind of an establishment."

"I have no wish to fight the young man," said Hunter; "more especially as
he has nothing to say for the aristocracy. If he chose to fight for
them, indeed--but he won't, I know; for I see he's a decent, respectable
young man; and, after all, fighting is a blackguard way of settling a
dispute; so I have no wish to fight; however, there is one thing I'll
do," said he, uplifting his fist; "I'll fight this fellow in black here
for half-a-crown, or for nothing, if he pleases; it was he that got up
the last dispute between me and the young man, with his Pope and his
nonsense; so I will fight him for anything he pleases, and perhaps the
young man will be my second; whilst you--"

"Come, Doctor," said the landlord, "or whatsoever you be, will you go
into the field with Hunter? I'll second you, only you must back
yourself. I'll lay five pounds on Hunter, if you are inclined to back
yourself; and will help you to win it as far, do you see, as a second
can; because why? I always likes to do the fair thing."

"Oh! I have no wish to fight," said the man in black, hastily; "fighting
is not my trade. If I have given any offence, I beg anybody's pardon."

"Landlord," said I, "what have I to pay?"

"Nothing at all," said the landlord, "glad to see you. This is the first
time that you have been at my house, and I never charge new customers, at
least customers such as you, anything for the first draught. You'll come
again, I dare say; shall always be glad to see you. I won't take it,"
said he, as I put sixpence on the table; "I won't take it."

"Yes, you shall," said I; "but not in payment for anything I have had
myself: it shall serve to pay for a jug of ale for that gentleman," said
I, pointing to the simple-looking individual; "he is smoking a poor pipe.
I do not mean to say that a pipe is a bad thing; but a pipe without ale,
do you see--"

"Bravo!" said the landlord, "that's just the conduct I like."

"Bravo!" said Hunter. "I shall be happy to drink with the young man
whenever I meet him at New York, where, do you see, things are better
managed than here."

"If I have given offence to anybody," said the man in black, "I repeat
that I ask pardon--more especially to the young gentleman, who was
perfectly right to stand up for his religion, just as I--not that I am of
any particular religion, no more than this honest gentleman here," bowing
to Hunter; "but I happen to know something of the Catholics--several
excellent friends of mine are Catholics--and of a surety the Catholic
religion is an ancient religion, and a widely-extended religion though it
certainly is not a universal religion, but it has of late made
considerable progress, even amongst those nations who have been
particularly opposed to it--amongst the Prussians and the Dutch, for
example, to say nothing of the English; and then, in the East, amongst
the Persians, among the Armenians."

"The Armenians," said I; "O dear me, the Armenians--"

"Have you anything to say about these people, sir?" said the man in
black, lifting up his glass to his mouth.

"I have nothing further to say," said I, "than that the roots of Ararat
are occasionally found to be deeper than those of Rome."

"There's half-a-crown broke," said the landlord, as the man in black let
fall the glass, which was broken to pieces on the floor. "You will pay
me the damage, friend, before you leave this kitchen. I like to see
people drink freely in my kitchen, but not too freely, and I hate
breakages; because why? I keeps a decent kind of an establishment."

CHAPTER LXXXIX.

The Dingle--Give them Ale--Not over Complimentary--America--Many
People--Washington--Promiscuous Company--Language of the Roads--The Old
Women--Numerals--The Man in Black.

The public-house where the scenes which I have attempted to describe in
the preceding chapters took place, was at the distance of about two miles
from the dingle. The sun was sinking in the west by the time I returned
to the latter spot. I found Belle seated by a fire, over which her
kettle was suspended. During my absence she had prepared herself a kind
of tent, consisting of large hoops covered over with tarpaulin, quite
impenetrable to rain, however violent. "I am glad you are returned,"
said she, as soon as she perceived me; "I began to be anxious about you.
Did you take my advice?"

"Yes," said I, "I went to the public-house and drank ale as you advised
me; it cheered, strengthened, and drove away the horror from my mind,--I
am much beholden to you."

"I knew it would do you good," said Belle; "I remembered that when the
poor women in the great house were afflicted with hysterics and fearful
imaginings, the surgeon, who was a good, kind man, used to say, 'Ale,
give them ale, and let it be strong.'"

"He was no advocate for tea, then?" said I.

"He had no objection to tea; but he used to say, 'Everything in its
season.' Shall we take ours now--I have waited for you."

"I have no objection," said I; "I feel rather heated, and at present
should prefer tea to ale--'Everything in its season,' as the surgeon
said."

Thereupon Belle prepared tea, and, as we were taking it, she said, "What
did you see and hear at the public-house?"

"Really," said I, "you appear to have your full portion of curiosity;
what matters it to you what I saw and heard at the public-house?"

"It matters very little to me," said Belle; "I merely inquired of you,
for the sake of a little conversation--you were silent, and it is
uncomfortable for two people to sit together without opening their
lips--at least I think so."

"One only feels uncomfortable," said I, "in being silent, when one
happens to be thinking of the individual with whom one is in company. To
tell you the truth, I was not thinking of my companion, but of certain
company with whom I had been at the public-house."

"Really, young man," said Belle, "you are not over complimentary; but who
may this wonderful company have been--some young--?" and here Belle
stopped.

"No," said I, "there was no young person--if person you were going to
say. There was a big portly landlord, whom I dare say you have seen; a
noisy savage Radical, who wanted at first to fasten upon me a quarrel
about America, but who subsequently drew in his horns; then there was a
strange fellow, a prowling priest, I believe, whom I have frequently
heard of, who at first seemed disposed to side with the Radical against
me, and afterwards with me against the Radical. There, you know my
company, and what took place."

"Was there no one else?" said Belle.

"You are mighty curious," said I. "No, none else, except a poor simple
mechanic, and some common company, who soon went away."

Belle looked at me for a moment, and then appeared to be lost in
thought--"America!" said she, musingly--"America!"

"What of America?" said I.

"I have heard that it is a mighty country."

"I dare say it is," said I; "I have heard my father say that the
Americans are first-rate marksmen."

"I heard nothing about that," said Belle; "what I heard was, that it is a
great and goodly land, where people can walk about without jostling, and
where the industrious can always find bread; I have frequently thought of
going thither."