Read Ebook: The Romany Rye by Borrow George

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Ebook has 1282 lines and 167146 words, and 26 pages

"None whatever," said the man in black; "faith can remove mountains, to say nothing of rocks--ho! ho!"

"But I cannot imagine," said I, "what advantage you could derive from perverting those words of Scripture in which the Saviour talks about eating his body."

"I do not know, indeed, why we troubled our heads about the matter at all," said the man in black; "but when you talk about perverting the meaning of the text, you speak ignorantly, Mr. Tinker; when he whom you call the Saviour gave his followers the sop, and bade them eat it, telling them it was his body, he delicately alluded to what it was incumbent upon them to do after his death, namely, to eat his body."

"You do not mean to say that he intended they should actually eat his body?"

"Then you suppose ignorantly," said the man in black; "eating the bodies of the dead was a heathenish custom, practised by the heirs and legatees of people who left property; and this custom is alluded to in the text."

"But what has the New Testament to do with heathen customs," said I, "except to destroy them?"

"More than you suppose," said the man in black. "We priests of Rome, who have long lived at Rome, know much better what the New Testament is made of than the heretics and their theologians, not forgetting their Tinkers; though I confess some of the latter have occasionally surprised us--for example, Bunyan. The New Testament is crowded with allusions to heathen customs, and with words connected with pagan sorcery. Now, with respect to words, I would fain have you, who pretend to be a philologist, tell me the meaning of Amen."

I made no answer.

"We of Rome," said the man in black, "know two or three things of which the heretics are quite ignorant; for example, there are those amongst us--those, too, who do not pretend to be philologists--who know what Amen is, and, moreover, how we got it. We got it from our ancestors, the priests of ancient Rome; and they got the word from their ancestors of the East, the priests of Buddh and Brahma."

"And what is the meaning of the word?" I demanded.

"Amen," said the man in black, "is a modification of the old Hindoo formula, Omani batsikhom, by the almost ceaseless repetition of which the Indians hope to be received finally to the rest or state of forgetfulness of Buddh or Brahma; a foolish practice you will say, but are you heretics much wiser, who are continually sticking Amen to the end of your prayers, little knowing when you do so, that you are consigning yourselves to the repose of Buddh! Oh, what hearty laughs our missionaries have had when comparing the eternally-sounding Eastern gibberish of Omani batsikhom, Omani batsikhom, and the Ave Maria and Amen Jesus of our own idiotical devotees."

"I have nothing to say about the Ave Marias and Amens of your superstitious devotees," said I; "I dare say that they use them nonsensically enough, but in putting Amen to the end of a prayer, we merely intend to express, 'So let it be.'"

"It means nothing of the kind," said the man in black; "and the Hindoos might just as well put your national oath at the end of their prayers, as perhaps they will after a great many thousand years, when English is forgotten, and only a few words of it remembered by dim tradition without being understood. How strange if, after the lapse of four thousand years, the Hindoos should damn themselves to the blindness so dear to their present masters, even as their masters at present consign themselves to the forgetfulness so dear to the Hindoos; but my glass has been empty for a considerable time; perhaps, Bellissima Biondina," said he, addressing Belle, "you will deign to replenish it?"

"I shall do no such thing," said Belle, "you have drunk quite enough, and talked more than enough, and to tell you the truth I wish you would leave us alone."

"Shame on you, Belle," said I; "consider the obligations of hospitality."

"I am sick of that word," said Belle, "you are so frequently misusing it; were this place not Mumpers' Dingle, and consequently as free to the fellow as ourselves, I would lead him out of it."

"I am sorry for it," said the man in black; "if she is angry with me, I am not so with her, and shall be always proud to wait upon her; in the meantime, I will wait upon myself."

The Proposal--The Scotch Novel--Latitude--Miracles--Pestilent Heretics--Old Fraser--Wonderful Texts--No Armenian.

The man in black having helped himself to some more of his favourite beverage, and tasted it, I thus addressed him: "The evening is getting rather advanced, and I can see that this lady," pointing to Belle, "is anxious for her tea, which she prefers to take cosily and comfortably with me in the dingle: the place, it is true, is as free to you as to ourselves, nevertheless, as we are located here by necessity, whilst you merely come as a visitor, I must take the liberty of telling you that we shall be glad to be alone, as soon as you have said what you have to say, and have finished the glass of refreshment at present in your hand. I think you said some time ago that one of your motives for coming hither was to induce me to enlist under the banner of Rome. I wish to know whether that was really the case?"

"Decidedly so," said the man in black; "I come here principally in the hope of enlisting you in our regiment, in which I have no doubt you could do us excellent service."

"Would you enlist my companion as well?" I demanded.

"We should be only too proud to have her among us, whether she comes with you or alone," said the man in black, with a polite bow to Belle.

"Before we give you an answer," I replied, "I would fain know more about you; perhaps you will declare your name?"

"And with considerable justice," said the man in black, drinking. "Well, you are a person of acute perception, and I will presently make it evident to you that it would be to your interest to join with us. You are at present, evidently, in very needy circumstances, and are lost, not only to yourself, but to the world; but should you enlist with us, I could find you an occupation not only agreeable, but one in which your talents would have free scope. I would introduce you in the various grand houses here in England, to which I have myself admission, as a surprising young gentleman of infinite learning, who by dint of study has discovered that the Roman is the only true faith. I tell you confidently that our popish females would make a saint, nay, a God of you; they are fools enough for anything. There is one person in particular with whom I would wish to make you acquainted, in the hope that you would be able to help me to perform good service to the holy see. He is a gouty old fellow, of some learning, residing in an old hall, near the great western seaport, and is one of the very few amongst the English Catholics possessing a grain of sense. I think you could help us to govern him, for he is not unfrequently disposed to be restive, asks us strange questions--occasionally threatens us with his crutch; and behaves so that we are often afraid that we shall lose him, or, rather, his property, which he has bequeathed to us, and which is enormous. I am sure that you could help us to deal with him; sometimes with your humour, sometimes with your learning, and perhaps occasionally with your fists."

"We would place her at once," said the man in black, "in the house of two highly respectable Catholic ladies in this neighbourhood, where she would be treated with every care and consideration till her conversion should be accomplished in a regular manner; we would then remove her to a female monastic establishment, where, after undergoing a year's probation, during which time she would be instructed in every elegant accomplishment, she should take the veil. Her advancement would speedily follow, for, with such a face and figure, she would make a capital lady abbess, especially in Italy, to which country she would probably be sent; ladies of her hair and complexion--to say nothing of her height--being a curiosity in the south. With a little care and management she could soon obtain a vast reputation for sanctity; and who knows but after her death she might become a glorified saint--he! he! Sister Maria Theresa, for that is the name I propose you should bear. Holy Mother Maria Theresa--glorified and celestial saint, I have the honour of drinking to your health," and the man in black drank.

"Well, Belle," said I, "what have you to say to the gentleman's proposal?"

"That if he goes on in this way I will break his glass against his mouth."

"Hold your mumping gibberish," said Belle, "and leave the dingle this moment, for though 'tis free to every one, you have no right to insult me in it."

"Pray be pacified," said I to Belle, getting up, and placing myself between her and the man in black, "he will presently leave, take my word for it--there, sit down again," said I, as I led her to her seat; then, resuming my own, I said to the man in black: "I advise you to leave the dingle as soon as possible."

"I should wish to have your answer to my proposal first," said he.

"Well, then, here you shall have it: I will not entertain your proposal; I detest your schemes: they are both wicked and foolish."

"Wicked," said the man in black, "have they not--he! he!--the furtherance of religion in view?"

"A religion," said I, "in which you yourself do not believe, and which you contemn."

"Whether I believe in it or not," said the man in black, "it is adapted for the generality of the human race; so I will forward it, and advise you to do the same. It was nearly extirpated in these regions, but it is springing up again, owing to circumstances. Radicalism is a good friend to us; all the liberals laud up our system out of hatred to the Established Church, though our system is ten times less liberal than the Church of England. Some of them have really come over to us. I myself confess a baronet who presided over the first radical meeting ever held in England--he was an atheist when he came over to us, in the hope of mortifying his own church--but he is now--ho! ho!--a real Catholic devotee--quite afraid of my threats; I make him frequently scourge himself before me. Well, Radicalism does us good service, especially amongst the lower classes, for Radicalism chiefly flourishes amongst them; for though a baronet or two may be found amongst the radicals, and perhaps as many lords--fellows who have been discarded by their own order for clownishness, or something they have done--it incontestably flourishes best among the lower orders. Then the love of what is foreign is a great friend to us; this love is chiefly confined to the middle and upper classes. Some admire the French, and imitate them; others must needs be Spaniards, dress themselves up in a zamarra, stick a cigar in their mouth, and say, 'Carajo.' Others would pass for Germans; he! he! the idea of any one wishing to pass for a German! but what has done us more service than anything else in these regions--I mean amidst the middle classes--has been the novel, the Scotch novel. The good folks, since they have read the novels, have become Jacobites; and, because all the Jacobs were Papists, the good folks must become Papists also, or, at least, papistically inclined. The very Scotch Presbyterians, since they have read the novels, are become all but Papists; I speak advisedly, having lately been amongst them. There's a trumpery bit of a half papist sect, called the Scotch Episcopalian Church, which lay dormant and nearly forgotten for upwards of a hundred years, which has of late got wonderfully into fashion in Scotland, because, forsooth, some of the long- haired gentry of the novels were said to belong to it, such as Montrose and Dundee; and to this the Presbyterians are going over in throngs, traducing and vilifying their own forefathers, or denying them altogether, and calling themselves descendants of--ho! ho! ho!--Scottish Cavaliers!!! I have heard them myself repeating snatches of Jacobite ditties about 'Bonnie Dundee,' and--

"'Come, fill up my cup, and fill up my can, And saddle my horse, and call up my man.'

There's stuff for you! Not that I object to the first part of the ditty. It is natural enough that a Scotchman should cry, 'Come, fill up my cup!' more especially if he's drinking at another person's expense--all Scotchmen being fond of liquor at free cost: but 'Saddle his horse!!!'--for what purpose, I would ask? Where is the use of saddling a horse, unless you can ride him? and where was there ever a Scotchman who could ride?"

"Of course you have not a drop of Scotch blood in your veins," said I, "otherwise you would never have uttered that last sentence."

"Don't be too sure of that," said the man in black; "you know little of Popery if you imagine that it cannot extinguish love of country, even in a Scotchman. A thorough-going Papist--and who more thorough-going than myself?--cares nothing for his country; and why should he? he belongs to a system, and not to a country."

"One thing," said I, "connected with you, I cannot understand; you call yourself a thorough-going Papist, yet are continually saying the most pungent things against Popery, and turning to unbounded ridicule those who show any inclination to embrace it."

"Rome is a very sensible old body," said the man in black, "and little cares what her children say, provided they do her bidding. She knows several things, and amongst others, that no servants work so hard and faithfully as those who curse their masters at every stroke they do. She was not fool enough to be angry with the Miquelets of Alba, who renounced her, and called her 'puta' all the time they were cutting the throats of the Netherlanders. Now, if she allowed her faithful soldiers the latitude of renouncing her, and calling her 'puta' in the market-place, think not she is so unreasonable as to object to her faithful priests occasionally calling her 'puta' in the dingle."

"But," said I, "suppose some one were to tell the world some of the disorderly things which her priests say in the dingle?"

"He would have the fate of Cassandra," said the man in black; "no one would believe him--yes, the priests would: but they would make no sign of belief. They believe in the Alcoran des Cordeliers--that is, those who have read it; but they make no sign."

"A pretty system," said I, "which extinguishes love of country and of everything noble, and brings the minds of its ministers to a parity with those of devils, who delight in nothing but mischief."

"The system," said the man in black, "is a grand one, with unbounded vitality. Compare it with your Protestantism, and you will see the difference. Popery is ever at work, whilst Protestantism is supine. A pretty church, indeed, the Protestant! Why, it can't even work a miracle."

"Can your church work miracles?" I demanded.

"That was the very question," said the man in black, "which the ancient British clergy asked of Austin Monk, after they had been fools enough to acknowledge their own inability. 'We don't pretend to work miracles; do you?' 'Oh! dear me, yes,' said Austin; 'we find no difficulty in the matter. We can raise the dead, we can make the blind see; and to convince you, I will give sight to the blind. Here is this blind Saxon, whom you cannot cure, but on whose eyes I will manifest my power, in order to show the difference between the true and the false church;' and forthwith, with the assistance of a handkerchief and a little hot water, he opened the eyes of the barbarian. So we manage matters! A pretty church, that old British church, which could not work miracles--quite as helpless as the modern one. The fools! was birdlime so scarce a thing amongst them?--and were the properties of warm water so unknown to them, that they could not close a pair of eyes and open them?"

"It's a pity," said I, "that the British clergy at that interview with Austin, did not bring forward a blind Welshman, and ask the monk to operate upon him."

"Clearly," said the man in black; "that's what they ought to have done; but they were fools without a single resource." Here he took a sip at his glass.

"And what did their not believing avail them?" said the man in black. "Austin remained master of the field, and they went away holding their heads down, and muttering to themselves. What a fine subject for a painting would be Austin's opening the eyes of the Saxon barbarian, and the discomfiture of the British clergy! I wonder it has not been painted!--he! he!"

"You must not imagine," said I, "that all Protestants are supine; some of them appear to be filled with unbounded zeal. They deal, it is true, not in lying miracles, but they propagate God's Word. I remember only a few months ago, having occasion for a Bible, going to an establishment, the object of which was to send Bibles all over the world. The supporters of that establishment could have no self-interested views; for I was supplied by them with a noble-sized Bible at a price so small as to preclude the idea that it could bring any profit to the vendors."

The countenance of the man in black slightly fell. "I know the people to whom you allude," said he; "indeed, unknown to them, I have frequently been to see them, and observed their ways. I tell you frankly that there is not a set of people in this kingdom who have caused our church so much trouble and uneasiness. I should rather say that they alone cause us any; for as for the rest, what with their drowsiness, their plethora, their folly and their vanity, they are doing us anything but mischief. These fellows are a pestilent set of heretics, whom we would gladly see burnt; they are, with the most untiring perseverance, and in spite of divers minatory declarations of the holy father, scattering their books abroad through all Europe, and have caused many people in Catholic countries to think that hitherto their priesthood have endeavoured, as much as possible, to keep them blinded. There is one fellow amongst them for whom we entertain a particular aversion; a big, burly parson, with the face of a lion, the voice of a buffalo, and a fist like a sledge-hammer. The last time I was there, I observed that his eye was upon me, and I did not like the glance he gave me at all; I observed him clench his fist, and I took my departure as fast as I conveniently could. Whether he suspected who I was, I know not; but I did not like his look at all, and do not intend to go again."

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