When Sir Ambrose and the duke thus withdrew, Edric and Rosabella were
left alone together, and remained for some moments in perfect silence,
for both felt keenly the awkwardness of their situation. After standing
for some time looking as foolish as their enemies could reasonably
desire, Edric bowed, and would have made good his retreat, but
Rosabella stopped him.
"Let us be friends, Edric," said she, smiling and holding out her hand,
"though we are no longer lovers."
Edric took the offered hand, and involuntarily pressed it to his lips.
"Upon my word, you improve!" continued Rosabella gaily; "I declare I
never saw such an instance of gallantry from you before, during the
whole course of our courtship!"
Edric smiled as he replied, "If you knew the burthen that has been
taken from my mind by the explanation of this morning--"
"Hush! hush!" cried Rosabella laughing, "Now you have spoiled all
again. I was afraid your gallantry was too great to be lasting."
"I acknowledge," replied Edric, joining in her mirth, "that it is not
very polite in me to rejoice in being freed from your chains: but I am
no flatterer, and--and--"
"A truce with apologies," exclaimed Rosabella; "as my uncle very justly
observed just now, they only make the matter worse. The case is simply
this: you and I were not suited for each other; we found it out, and
we are both glad to be released from ties that we discovered were
incompatible with our happiness. 'Can any thing be more clear?' as Dr.
Entwerfen says. You, I presume, are going to travel, and to gratify
your natural love of variety and wish to acquire information; whilst
I, poor unfortunate damsel that I am, must remain at home and wear the
willow, till I am fortunate enough to meet with a swain who has the
penetration to discover my charms."
"And most ardently do I hope that it may soon be the case!" said Edric,
astonished at her affability, and feeling more kindly disposed towards
her than he had ever done before. "You are right in supposing I wish
to travel; but, alas! I have not now the power. My father is too much
offended to afford me the means; and without money--"
"Travelling is far from agreeable," interrupted Rosabella, smiling: "is
not that what you would say? Why not apply to Father Morris, then; he
can, and I am sure, will help you. For myself, I am powerless, except
as far as giving advice."
"Your advice, however, is excellent," replied Edric, regarding her with
still increasing amazement; "and I assure you I will follow it to the
letter. I never thought of applying to the reverend father, though I
now feel it is the best thing I can do."
"Why then do you look at me so incredulously?" continued Rosabella; "I
can have no motive for deceiving you; and yet you look as suspicious as
though you thought I had. I own my behaviour towards you is changed;
but remember the different circumstances in which I am now placed.
Formerly I feared even to speak to you, lest my words should be deemed
an encouragement of the pretensions I supposed you to entertain to
my hand. Now that we are both free, that reason no longer exists;
and besides, I feel grateful to you for declaring your sentiments so
openly, and thus saving me from my uncle's displeasure. 'Can any thing
be more simple?' as your friend Dr. Entwerfen would say."
Notwithstanding Rosabella's apparent openness, however, and the
plausible reasons she gave for her conduct, Edric could not divest
himself of the idea that she wished to get him out of the kingdom as
speedily as possible, for some other motives than those she thought
proper to avow. There likewise appeared some mystery in her speaking
so confidently of the assistance of Father Morris; for as the duke's
family had a regular confessor, Father Murphy, it seemed strange that
Rosabella should have an intercourse with any other priest, beyond that
required by the common forms of society; and so slight an intimacy
could scarcely warrant the positive assertion she had made use of.
Edric, however, was too anxious to avail himself of any opportunity
that offered of proceeding to Egypt, to trouble himself with long
investigation of the subject; and when he quitted Rosabella, he
proceeded in search of Father Morris as a matter of course, and almost
without any volition of his own.
The suite of rooms appropriated to Father Morris in the mansion of
Sir Ambrose was in a wing partly detached from the main dwelling; and
thither Edric bent his steps. As he approached, however, to his great
surprise he heard a sound of blows followed by deep groans. Knowing
that it was the hour of dinner for the domestics, and that none of
the other inmates of the mansion were at home but the friar and
himself, he could not at first account for this strange and fearful
noise; but finding, as he advanced, the sounds proceeded from the
inner chamber of the priest, where no one but himself ever ventured,
he soon became satisfied that Father Morris was performing a penance
of self-flagellation; and as it was deemed impious to interrupt a
penitence, he seated himself quietly in the outer chamber, waiting the
priest's leisure; wondering, however, to himself, what crime so holy
a man could possibly have committed, that could require so severe an
expiation.
When Father Morris made his appearance, it was with his usual downcast
eyes and composed look. He expressed his astonishment at seeing Edric,
but made no allusion to the penance he had just been performing, and
listened with a cold unmoved aspect to Edric's communication.
"Then I am to understand," said he, when it was finished, "that you are
like the prince we were reading of the other day, in a book we found in
your tutor's library. You cannot be happy because you have never been
miserable; and you are going to plunge into all the cares and troubles
of the world, merely to learn how to enjoy retirement."
"Not exactly so, father;" rejoined Edric; "I have two other
motives,--the anger of my father, and the earnest tormenting wish I
before confessed to you, of diving into the secrets of the grave."
"And how is that to be accomplished by your leaving England?"
"I wish to try to resuscitate a mummy."
"The scheme is wild, vague, and impracticable."
"Not if Dr. Entwerfen's hypothesis be true. For, supposing the souls
of the ancient Egyptians to be chained to their bodies, and to be
remaining in them in a torpid state,--it is very possible that by
employing so powerful an agent as galvanism, re-animation may be
produced. I have already seen some wonderful instances of the vivifying
power of the machine; and as the Egyptians took care to preserve the
bodies of their dead quite entire, probably from the idea I have just
alluded to,--I think the mummies are the best subjects we can possibly
fix upon for our experiments."
"The ancient Egyptians did not imagine the souls of their dead remained
in the bodies, but that they would return to them after the expiration
of a certain number of years; so that your hypothesis, as far as it
rests upon their opinions, falls to the ground."
"Do not call it my hypothesis," returned Edric, "it is that of Dr.
Entwerfen; my own opinion is decidedly different--for I cannot imagine
any idea of death that does not imply a separation between the body and
soul. The subject, however, is curious; to me highly interesting; and
I own, candidly, there are many mysteries connected with it, which it
would give me the highest satisfaction to have explained."
"And these mysteries, which have vainly excited the speculation of the
learned since the commencement of the world, you think your journey to
Egypt will enable you to unravel," said Father Morris, with a sardonic
sneer. Edric felt irritated at his manner, and replied warmly:--
"I am not presumptuous, father; but as even you must allow, man is
often but a blind instrument in the hands of fate, it is possible
that the racking desire I feel to explore these mysteries may be an
impulse from a superior power, and a proof that I am destined to be
the mortal agent of their revelation to man. Egypt is a country rich
in monuments of antiquity; and all historians unite in declaring her
ancient inhabitants to have possessed knowledge and science far beyond
even the boasted improvements of modern times. For instance, could we
attempt to erect stupendous buildings like the pyramids, where enormous
masses are arranged with geometrical accuracy, and the labours of man
have emulated the everlasting durability of nature? Are we even capable
of conceiving works so majestic as those they put in execution? No;
assuredly not. In every point they surpassed us."
"Even in their religion?" asked Father Morris sarcastically.
"No," returned Edric; "every scheme of religion falls infinitely below
the divine perfection of Christianity; but as Christianity was not
in the times we are speaking of, revealed, it cannot be denied that
the Egyptians made some approach to wisdom even in their devotions.
They worshipped Nature, though they disguised her under the symbols
of her attributes, and gratified the vulgar taste by giving them
tangible objects to represent ideas too sublime for their unenlightened
comprehension. That they entertained the divine idea of a resurrection,
and of rewards and punishments in a future life, is evident, not
only from their favourite fable of the Phœnix, and the use they made
of the now hackneyed image of the Butterfly; but by the care they
bestowed upon the preservation of the body; their mournings for the
loss of Osiris, and rejoicings when he was found; and the kind of
trial to which they subjected the human corpse after death, when, if
serious crimes were alleged, and proved against it, it was denied the
rites of sepulture, and left to rot, unlamented. Then, can any modern
institutions excel the wisdom of the laws enacted by the Pharaohs?
or can any modern magnificence equal that displayed in the cities
of Memphis and Thebes? And since this will hardly be disputed, what
country can be more fitting than that once so highly favoured, to be
the scene of the most important discovery ever made by Man? Deride
me if you will; I feel a superior power inspires my wishes. I feel
irresistibly impelled forward. I feel called upon to act by a force
far superior to my own, and I will obey its dictates. You smile, and
secretly ridicule my projects; but remember that excessive incredulity
sometimes savours as strongly of folly as credulity itself, and that
both are alike injurious to the progress of science."
"I do not doubt it," said Father Morris, with provoking coldness;
"though it must certainly be allowed not to be the prevailing foible
of the present day. However, without staying to discuss that point at
present, I humbly suggest, that, as I happen unfortunately to be rather
pressed for time, it may be as well to condescend to bestow a few
minutes' attention upon the best human means of enabling you to fulfil
the high destinies that await you in Egypt--as, notwithstanding the
imperious nature of the impulse that invites you there, I presume you
are aware that the vulgar agency of money will be necessary, as well as
the scientific one of galvanism."
The feelings of Edric were too highly wrought to bear this irony; and,
snatching up his hat, he rushed out of the room, casting a look of
indignation at the priest, who vainly endeavoured to stop him. Maddened
by the conflicting emotions that struggled in his bosom, and disgusted
alike with himself, Father Morris, and all the world, Edric hurried on,
totally unaware which way he was going, till his career was stopped
by his coming suddenly and violently in contact with another person,
who was running equally heedlessly with himself, but in an opposite
direction. Both recoiled some paces from the shock, and Edric found, to
his surprise, it was Abelard whom he had greeted so unceremoniously.
Curiosity to know what could have occasioned the abstraction of
the worthy butler, (he being generally remarkable for his peculiar
attention to matters of ceremony,) diverted the thoughts of Edric
from himself, and he, for the moment, forgot his own woes, whilst he
inquired into those of Abelard.
"Alas! alas!" said the old man, shaking his grey head, whilst the tears
streamed in torrents down his wrinkled cheeks, "that I should ever have
lived to see this day! Oh, Master Edric! how could you irritate your
respectable progenitor? Alas! alas! I feel my lachrymal gland suffused
almost to overflowing, whenever the recollection of what has passed
shoots across my piamater."
"For Heaven's sake! tell me what is the matter!"
"Oh dear! oh dear!" sobbed the unhappy butler, "that such longevity
should have been granted me only that I might see so promising a young
gentleman turned out of doors."
"Tell me the worst; though, indeed, I now fear I comprehend your
meaning but too well."
"Sir Ambrose commands that you depart immediately, and never enter
again into the mansion of your paternal ancestors."
"What will become of me!" exclaimed Edric, clasping his hands together,
and raising his eyes to Heaven; then, after a short pause, he added
more composedly, "Well, come what will, I am resigned. Fate urges me
onward with irresistible violence, and I feel it would be in vain to
attempt to combat against her dictates. I, at least, am prepared to
execute her will."
"But where will you go?" sobbed Abelard. "You will want money and
friends. Alas! alas! that I should ever see the son of my old master
stand in need of pecuniary assistance!"
"He but repeats the words of Father Morris," said Edric; "and yet how
differently his doubts affect me. The irony of the priest drove me to
despair, but the grief of this old man soothes my wounded spirit. He
surely loves me."
These words were uttered in so faint a key, that the name of Father
Morris only caught the ear of Abelard, and he replied:
"I don't like Father Morris, and I never did; though it is now twenty
years since he first entered the family, and though I have never seen
any thing in him to censure particularly, throughout the entire of that
long period, yet my aversion remains undiminished. I suppose it must be
a natural antipathy, and that the pores of my body don't assimilate in
shape with the atoms that emanate from his."
"He drove me almost to madness," said Edric.
"I am not surprised at that," returned Abelard; "for I know he can take
a fiendlike pleasure in tormenting. He can employ the most provoking,
tantalizing expressions, and yet preserve the same soft, smooth voice,
and keep his palebræ half closed, and his visual organs fixed upon the
ground. Indeed, I never saw the iris of his eyes dilated in my life;
and then he has such a manner of raising his supercilia, curving his
nose, and drawing down his depressor anguli oris when he listens to any
one or replies to them, as to give the expression of a perpetual sneer
to his saturnine countenance."
Edric's own recent personal experience bore testimony only too forcibly
to the justice of those remarks; and as the wounded man shrinks from
the slightest touch, so did Edric find the words of Abelard jar
upon his nerves; as turning away from him to hide his emotions, he
encountered the earnest gaze of Father Morris himself.
"Why do you appear astonished?" said the priest, smiling. "You are an
infant, Edric; you quarrel with your best friends, and then appear
surprised that you do not find them as capricious as yourself. You
fancy you are very angry with me, for instance, and yet I am not
conscious of having done any thing to offend you. Was it a crime to
attempt to moderate an enthusiasm that I feared might mislead you?
was it a fault to warn you against the dangers of a world of which
as yet you know so little? No, no; I am confident your own reason
and excellent good sense will acquit me, if you will but suffer them
to act. Your imagination is too vivid, Edric; it sweeps away all
before it, like a torrent. If you would view things calmly, you would
perceive your folly. The world will teach you wisdom. Go then, travel;
experience personal privations and evils of every description, that you
may learn to enjoy the pleasures that even now lie within your grasp,
but which you spurn from you with contempt. So true it is that we never
learn the real value of any blessing till we have experienced the
misery that attends its privation."
"If this be the case," replied Edric, soothed in spite of himself,
by the insinuating manner of the monk, "why should my feelings be an
exception to the general rule? And since all our pleasures acquire a
new zest by the force of contrast, and mine have long since lost all
relish, is it not even wisdom to try the effect of change?"
"And yet it seems a folly," said Father Morris, in his smooth,
plausible, hypocritical voice, with his eyes again fixed upon the
ground, "to incur a certain evil in the hope of attaining an uncertain
good."
Edric started, and fixed his eyes upon him, with an expression the monk
well understood; and, not wishing again to provoke him past endurance,
he continued in a different tone: "But it is useless for age to preach
lessons of prudence to youth, and as your father says, every one must
purchase his own experience; so we will now, if you please, change the
subject to that of making preparations for your journey. You are still
determined to visit Egypt, I suppose?"
"It is my most ardent wish."
"Return then to your own apartment, and by to-morrow all shall be ready
for your departure."
"He must not enter the house!" said Abelard; "alas! alas! that I
should live to say it! Sir Ambrose has forbidden him even to cross the
threshold."
"Can you not remain concealed in the apartment of Dr. Entwerfen?" asked
Father Morris, after a short pause; "no one enters there but himself;
and one of the windows looks upon this terrace, so that you may reach
it unobserved; Abelard, I am confident, will not betray you; and I will
accompany you, as I wish to consult with the doctor respecting your
intended voyage."
Edric hastily assented, and bidding Abelard an affectionate adieu, he
and Father Morris easily climbed through the window that led to the
adytum of Dr. Entwerfen, whilst Abelard, clasping his hands together,
exclaimed as he retired, "God bless him! Well, he shall not want for
pecuniary assistance at any rate, if Mr. Davis and I can help it; that
is one comfort."
When Edric and Father Morris entered the study of Dr. Entwerfen, they
found him engaged in what, certainly considering his age and station,
seemed a very extraordinary amusement. He was apparently dancing a
hornpipe, drawing his heels together, and alternately rising and
sinking like a clown in a pantomime, twisting his face, in the mean
time, into the most hideous grimaces.
"What is the matter?" cried Edric and Father Morris, both at the same
instant, gazing at him with surprise.
"I--I--I am galvanized," cried the doctor, in a piteous tone; nodding
his head with a sudden jerk, that seemed to threaten every instant to
throw it out of its socket; and then, suddenly starting, he kicked out
one leg horizontally, and twirled round upon the other with an air of
an opera dancer.
"How did it happen?" cried Edric, excessively shocked at the unnatural
contrast exhibited between the doctor's serious countenance, and
involuntary antics.
"I can't--exactly--tell," replied the doctor, bolting forth his words
with difficulty, and still swimming, grinning, and capering, to the
inexpressible horror of his companions, till by degrees his grimaces
subsided, and he was enabled at last to stand tolerably steady. He
now informed his friends, that trying some experiments with his
galvanic battery, he had unfortunately operated upon himself; and in
his turn listened to their account of what had passed between Edric
and Sir Ambrose. Instead of expressing sorrow, however, when he found
his pupil had quarrelled with his father, the doctor's eyes sparkled
with joy--"Then you must inevitably travel," exclaimed he. "We shall
visit the pyramids, we shall animate the mummies, and we shall attain
immortality."
There was something in this violent expression of the doctor's
transports that did not quite harmonize with Edric's feelings,
especially as he fancied he perceived a satirical smile lurking round
the lips of Father Morris.
"When shall you be ready to set off?" asked he abruptly.
"To-morrow, if you will," replied the doctor. "I have foreseen this
result some time, and I have been preparing every thing accordingly. I
never knew a young Englishman in my life, Father Morris, who was not
fond of travelling. The inhabitants of other countries travel for what
they can get, or what they hope to learn; but an Englishman travels
because he does not know what to do with himself. He spares neither
time, trouble, nor money; he goes every where, sees every thing; after
which, he returns--just as wise as when he set out. Not that I blame
curiosity--no--I admire it above all things!--it is that which has led
to all the great discoveries that have been made since the creation of
the world, and it is that which now impels us to explore the pyramids."
Edric looked excessively annoyed at the conclusion of this speech, and,
to change the subject, hastily asked the doctor, if he thought his
galvanic battery powerful enough for the experiment they meant to try
with it.
"Powerful!" exclaimed the doctor; "why I feel it even now tingling to
my fingers' ends. I should think, Sir, the effect it has had upon me is
a sufficient proof of the force of the machine."
"Undoubtedly!" replied Father Morris; "nay, if we are to judge by that,
I only tremble lest you should animate the pyramids as well as the
mummies, and you must allow it would be an awkward sight to see them
come tumbling and slipping along the plain."
"Sir!" said the doctor, staring at him.
"Do you intend visiting any other country than Egypt?" asked Father
Morris, fearful he had gone too far, and wishing, for reasons he did
not openly avow, not to offend his companions.
"I should like to see India," said the doctor; "some black-letter
pamphlets in my possession, allude to its being once governed by an old
woman; and as the regular historians make no mention of the fact, I
should like to see what traditions I could gather respecting it on the
spot. The religion of the ancient Hindoos, before they were converted
to Christianity, has been said to have resembled that of the ancient
Egyptians; by comparing the monuments of both, one might be made to
illustrate the other. I should also like, before we quit Africa, to see
the celebrated court of Timbuctoo. I have long been in correspondence
with a learned pundit there, who has communicated to me some of the
most sublime discoveries."
"The whole of the interior of Africa must be interesting," observed
Father Morris, "particularly the rising states on the banks of the
Niger. It is generally instructive as well as amusing to watch the
birth and struggles of infant republics; and to remark first how fast
the people encroach, and then the governors. Whilst the rulers are
weak, they are always liberal; but their exalted sentiments in general
decrease in exact proportion as they become powerful."
"In short," resumed the doctor, "I would willingly traverse the whole
world; I know but one country that I should dislike to visit."
"And which is that?" asked Edric.
"America," replied the doctor. "I have no wish to have my throat
cut, or my breath stopped by a bowstring. I have a perfect horror of
despotic governments."
"Then how do you endure the one we live under?" asked Father Morris.
"The case is quite different," returned the doctor. "With us, the
spur of despotism is scarcely felt; and the people, being permitted
occasionally to think and act for themselves, are not debased and
brutalized as the slaves of absolute power are in general. Despotism,
with us, is like a rod which the schoolmaster keeps hung up in sight
of his boys, but which he has very seldom any occasion to make use of.
From such despotism as that of the Americans, however, Heaven defend
us!"
"Amen!" said Edric; "for, as we are happy now, we should be idiots to
desire a change."
"What an unphilosophical sentiment!" exclaimed the doctor: "I am really
quite shocked that you, Edric, should utter such a speech. What an
abominable doctrine! Remember, that if you once allow innovation to be
dangerous, you instantly put a stop to all improvement--you absolutely
shut and bolt your doors against it. Oh! it is horrible, that such a
doctrine should be ever broached in a civilized country. You could not
surely be aware of what you were saying?"
"To-morrow," said Father Morris, addressing Edric, and without noticing
the indignation of the learned doctor, "you must proceed to town, where
you can remain at the house of a friend of mine, till you are ready for
your voyage to Egypt. I would not, however, advise you to stay long
before you go there; for, as your father intends visiting London in a
day or two, you might meet, and the consequences, be unpleasant. I have
already dispatched a carrier-pigeon to advise my friend, Lord Gustavus
De Montfort, of your arrival; he, I am sure, will give you a hearty
welcome, and not only afford you the shelter of his house, but afford
you all the assistance in his power, to enable you to make preparations
for your journey; for which purpose, also, I will take care to supply
you with money. No thanks," continued he, stopping Edric, who was
about to speak, "I detest them. If you really feel obliged to me, you
will prove it by remaining silent. I must leave you now, as my longer
absence might create suspicion. Adieu! God bless you! A balloon will
wait for you to-morrow morning, at the corner of the wood. The doctor
will, of course, accompany you. I think you may safely rest here
concealed till then. Once more, adieu!"
"Now Father Morris is gone," said Doctor Entwerfen to his pupil, "I
have a treat for you. I will show you a curious collection of ballads,
all of which are at least three hundred years old, which a friend of
mine picked up in London for me the other day, and sent me down this
morning by the stage-balloon. They are all of the genuine rag paper,
a certain proof of their antiquity; for, you know, the asbestos paper
we now use has not been invented more than two hundred years. But you
shall see them: follow me."
So saying, the doctor trotted off to his library, that paradise of
half-forgotten volumes, most of which had been accidentally saved from
their well-merited destination of covering over butter, and wrapping
up cheese, to be drawn from the dust and obscurity in which they had
lain for centuries, to ornament the shelves of Doctor Entwerfen; and
whose authors, if they could have taken a peep upon earth, and beheld
them, would have been quite astonished to find themselves immortal.
Entering this emporium of neglected learning, the doctor hastily
advanced to a table, on which lay his newly acquired treasures, and
holding them up, exclaimed, "Look, Edric, how beautifully dirty the
paper is; no art could counterfeit this dingy hue. This sooty tinge is
the genuine tint of antiquity. You know, Edric, in ancient times, the
caloric employed in culinary purposes, and indeed for all the common
usages of life, was produced by the combustion of wood, and of a black
bituminous substance, or amphilites, drawn from the bowels of the
earth, called coal, of which you may yet see specimens in the cabinets
of the curious. As these substances decomposed, or rather expanded, by
the force of heat, the attraction of cohesion was dissolved, and the
component parts flew off in the shape of smoke or soot. This smoke,
rising into the air, was dispersed by it, and the minute particles, or
atoms, of which it was composed, falling and resting upon every thing
that chanced to be in their way, produced that incomparable dusky hue,
which the moderns have so often tried, though in vain, to imitate. I
beg your pardon, Edric, for using such vulgar language to express what
I wished to say, but really, treating upon such a subject, I did not
know how to explain myself elegantly."
"Oh! I understood you very well, Sir. After all, the only true use of
language is to convey the ideas of one person to the understanding of
another; and, provided that end be attained, I really do not see that
it is of any consequence what words we make use of."
"True, Edric dear! you make very just observations sometimes. Well,
but the ballads; I was going to show you my treasures,--my jewels! as
the Roman lady said of her children. Look what beautiful specimens
these are! A little torn here and there, and with a few of the lines
illegible--but genuine antiques. I'll warrant every one of them above
three hundred years old. Look, it is real linen paper; you may tell it
by the texture; and then the spelling, see what a number of letters
they put into their words that were of no use. Look at the titles
of them. Here is the 'Tragical end of poor Miss Bailey'--and here
'Cherry Ripe'--and 'I've been roaming.' Here is 'The loves of Captain
Wattle and Miss Roe'--and here are 'Jessy the flower of Dumblane,' and
'Dunois the brave.' But this is my Phœnix--here is what will be the
envy of collectors! here is my invaluable treasure. This, I believe,
is absolutely unique, and that I am so blest as to possess the only
copy extant. The date is wanting, but the manners it describes are so
unpolished, that I should almost think it might be traced back to the
times of the aboriginal Britons.--Thus it begins:--
'At Wednesbury there was a cocking,
A match between Newton and Scroggins;
The nailers and colliers left work,
And to Spittle's they all went jogging.
Tol de rol lol.'
I used to be very much puzzled at this burthen, which is one of
frequent recurrence in ancient songs. At first, I thought it a relic
of some language now irrevocably lost. Then it struck me, it might be
an invocation to the deities of the aborigines. In short, I was quite
perplexed, and knew not what to think, when a learned friend of mine
hit upon an idea the other day, which seems completely to solve the
difficulty. He suggests that it was an ancient manner of running up and
down the scale; and that 'Tol de rol lol' had the same signification
as 'Do re mi fa;'--which solution is at once so simple and ingenious,
that I am sure you, as well as myself, must be struck by it. I here
omit a few stanzas, in which the author enumerates his heroes exactly
in the Homeric manner. The names are so barbarous, that I am afraid of
loosening my teeth in pronouncing them:--
'There was plenty of beef at the dinner,
Of a bull that was baited to death;
Bunny Hyde got a lump in his throat,
Which had like to have stopt his breath.'
What a beautiful simplicity there is in that last line,
'Which had like to have stopt his breath.'
Oh, we moderns have nothing equal to it!--
'The company fell in confusion,
To see this poor Bunny Hyde choke,
So they hurried him down to the kitchen,
And held his head over the smoke.'
"This develops a curious practice of antiquity. You know, Edric, I
explained to you just now the manner in which combustion was formerly
effected, and the causes of the production of what was called smoke.
I own, however, it seems a strange way of reviving a half-suffocated
man, to hold his head over smoke, which, being loaded, as I said
before, with innumerable atoms of all sorts and sizes, would, one might
think be more likely to impede respiration than restore it. The fact,
however, is undoubted; and it not only affords a curious illustration
of the manner of the ancients, but is of itself a strong proof of the
authenticity of the ballad; for such an idea never could have entered
the head of a modern. To return to poor Hyde--
'One gave him a kick o' th' stomach,
And another a thump o' th' brow,
His wife cried throw him i' th' stable,
And he will be better just now.'
This unfeeling conduct of his wife does not say much in commendation
of the ladies of those times. Here follows an hiatus of several
stanzas: I find, however, by a word or two here and there, that they
celebrated the exploits of two gallic heroes:--
'The best i' th' country bred;
The one was a brassy-wing black,
And the other a dusky-wing'd red.'
These unfortunate victims of the cruelty of man seem both to have
perished. There is a stanza, however, before this catastrophe, which
seems to relate to the combat.
'The conflict was hard upon each,
Till glossy-wing'd blacky was choked,
The colliers were nationally vex'd,
And the nailers were all provoked.'
This passage seems very obscure: 'Nationally' is evidently a sign of
comparison, but I cannot say I ever saw it employed before. It is,
however, another proof of the amazing antiquity of the ballad. After
this, it appears that the people broke in upon the ring, and both cocks
were crushed to atoms. I don't know whether you are acquainted with the
manner in which these gallic combats were conducted, Edric. A kind of
amphitheatre was formed, upon which the birds were pitted one against
the other, whence the name cock-pit. The combatants were armed with
large iron spurs, and the victor generally left his rival dead upon the
field. The ballad proceeds:--
'The cock-pit was near to the church,
As an ornament to the town;
One side was an old coal-pit,
And the other was well gorsed round.'
Gorse was a kind of heath or furze.
'Peter Hadley peep'd through the gorse,
In order to see the cocks fight;
Spittle jobb'd his eye out with a fork,
And said, "Blast you, it sarves you right."'
This is very spirited and expressive, though the false quantities
render it difficult to read.
'Some folks may think this is strange,
Who Wednesbury never knew,
But those who have ever been there,
Won't have the least doubt but it's true.
For they are all savage by nature,
And guilty of deeds that are shocking,
Jack Baker he whack'd his own feyther,
And so ended the Wednesbury cocking.'"
"It is very fine certainly," said Edric, who was half asleep.
"Upon my word," returned the doctor, "I don't think you have heard a
single word I have been saying."
"Oh! yes, I have," replied Edric, "every syllable. It was about a man
killing his own father, and putting his eyes out with a fork."
"Eh?" cried the doctor, somewhat annoyed at this unequivocal proof that
though his words might have struck upon the auricular organs of his
pupil, they had not reached his brains. The exclamation of the doctor
restored Edric to his senses, and he began to apologize.
"I am really very sorry," said he, "but you must excuse my inattention.
Sometimes, you know, the mind is not in tune for literary discussions,
even when proceeding from the most eloquent lips. This is my case at
the present moment. My mind is so occupied by the important change that
has just taken place in my affairs, that, I own, even your learning and
eloquence were thrown away upon me."
"If that be the state of your mind," replied the doctor, with chagrin,
"it is of no use to show you any more of my literary treasures; else
I have some of matchless excellence. Here is a letter addressed to
Sheridan, a witty writer of comedies, in the eighteenth century, which
has never been opened,--and here is a tailor's bill of the immortal
Byron, which may possibly never have been looked at. But here is the
most inestimable of my relics. Look, at least, at this. This piece
of paper, covered carelessly with irregular strokes and lines, was
once in the possession of that enchanting, that inimitable novelist
of the nineteenth century, generally distinguished in the works of
contemporary writers by the mysterious title of 'The Great Unknown!'
See, here is half the word 'Waverley,' written upon it, and doubtless
all these other irregular marks and scratches proceeded directly from
his pen. I confess, Edric, I never contemplate this relic of genius
without a feeling of reverence, and almost of awe. 'Perhaps,' say I to
myself, when I look at it, 'when these letters were formed, the first
idea had but just arisen in the mind of the author of those immortal
works, which were afterwards destined to improve and delight mankind.
Perhaps, at that very moment gigantic thoughts were rushing through
his brain, and a variety of new ideas opening their treasures to his
imagination.' Oh, there is something in the mere random stroke of the
pen of a celebrated character, inexpressibly affecting to the mind;--it
carries one back to the very time when he lived--it seems to make one
acquainted with him, and to let us into the secrets of his inmost
thoughts. But I see you are not attending to me, Edric!"
"I am very sorry--another time I should be happy--but now--I cannot.
However, when we return, perhaps--"
"It may be then too late," said the doctor, with solemnity; and locking
up his cabinet, he led the way back to his common sitting-room, in high
dudgeon.