The Romany Rye. Borrow George
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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?’
‘That I will never do,’ said the man in black; ‘no one in England knows it but myself, and I will not declare it, even in a dingle; as for the rest, Sono un Prete Cattolico Appostolico—that is all that many a one of us can say for himself, and it assuredly means a great deal.’
‘We will now proceed to business,’ said I. ‘You must be aware that we English are generally considered a self-interested people.’
‘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 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 should 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.’
‘And in what manner would you provide for my companion?’ said I.
‘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.’
‘You have heard the lady’s answer,’ said I.
‘I have,’ said the man in black, ‘and shall not press the matter. I can’t help, however, repeating that she would make a capital lady abbess: she would keep the nuns in order, I warrant her; no easy matter! Break the glass against my mouth—he! he! How she would send the holy utensils flying at the nuns’ heads occasionally, and just the person to wring the nose of Satan should he venture to appear one night in her cell in the shape of a handsome black man. No offence, madam, no offence, pray retain your seat,’ said he, observing that Belle had started up; ‘I mean no offence. Well, if you will not consent to be an abbess, perhaps you will consent to follow this young Zingaro, and to co-operate with him and us. I am a priest, madam, and can join you both in an instant, connubio stabili, as I suppose the knot has not been tied already.’
‘Hold your mumping gibberish,’ said Belle, ‘and leave the dingle this moment, for though ’t is 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 mouths, 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