Sermon on Spiritual Aging by St. Vincent Ferrer O.P. (translated into English)

 

“And be renewed in the spirit of your mind,” (Eph 4:23)

 

These words are read in the epistle of this Sunday.  Let us salute the Virgin Mary.

In these words the Apostle Paul suggests that mortal sin makes the soul senile and old, when he says, “And be renewed,” etc.  Tacitly he presupposes this.  I will base my sermon on this, and we have insights and advice [speculationes et moralitates].  We know that old age and aging are conditions and properties of corporeal, corruptible, and mortal creatures. It does not happen to spiritual creatures.  It is many thousand of years since Michael [the archangel] was created, and he is just as young today as on the first day of his creation.  It’s the same for Gabriel, Raphael and the others.  Old age and antiquity [senectus et antiquitus] do not have a place in them.  See St. Thomas [Summa theologiae]  I , q. 50, a. 5 [ult.] about the incorruptibility of angels.

The same is true for souls. So the soul of a man a hundred years old, or even a thousand,  is as young as the soul of a child one day old, because they are spiritual substances, and they do not grow old or age.  Authority.  “Your name is as oil poured out: therefore young maidens have loved you.” (Song 1:2).  Note “oil poured out,” namely, Christian faith everywhere preached and spread.  Here, the name of Christ is called “oil,” elsewhere “ointment,” because it is the medicine of the soul, for at the moment in which a child or adult is baptized, their soul is cured, and it is “poured out” in heaven, because by it the wound is cured, the case of bad angels, and [poured out] on earth, because the faith of Christ in every generation was preached by the holy apostles.  Therefore the “young maidens,” namely, spiritual creatures, on which old age does not settle, “loved you too much,” (v. 2) that is very much.

Senescence or aging only happens in corporeal creatures, but not in all, because the sun, moon, stars, planets and the heavens, although they are corporeal creatures, nevertheless they are not corruptible from the composition of contraries.  But old age happens and comes upon corruptible, mortal creatures.  A house is called old or new, a garden, a ship etc., and our bodies grow old, and also those of animals etc.  It is therefore evident that senescence and aging are properties or conditions of corporeal animal creatures. Authority.  “And that which decays and grows old, is near its end,” (Heb 8:13). If therefore we wish to speak properly about old age, our souls are not old, but the Apostle presupposes and suggests that our souls grow old and age from mortal sin, because every defect which old age gives to the body naturally, the same defects sin gives to the soul spiritually, or morally.  Therefore the theme says, “And be renewed in the spirit of your mind,” etc., (Eph 4:23).  The theme is clear.

I have sought out and found that there are six defects which old age brings naturally to the body.

 

First is the whitening of the hair [dealbatio capillorum],

Second, the dulling of the senses [obturatio sensuum],

Third, the wrinkling of the skin [corruptio cutis],

Fourth, the bowing of the head [incurvatio capitis],

Fifth, weakness in the limbs [debilitatio in membris],

Sixth, the approach of death [appropinquatio mortis].

 

Sin brings on these six defects to the soul spiritually or morally.  Therefore the theme says: “And be renewed in the spirit of your mind,” (Eph 4:23).

 

WHITENING OF THE HAIR

I say first that the first defect which old age gives to the body is the whitening of the hair.  Although indeed in youth a man had black hair, commonly in old age, it naturally turns white.  Reason.  Because the moisture and coolness of the head and scalp rots the roots of the hairs, and so the hair turns white.  Just like in autumn the leaves of the trees, once green, grow pale and fall, so it is with the hair.  And although this is clear and certain nevertheless there is this scriptural authority: “The Ancient of days sat… and the hair of his head [was] like clean wool,” (Dan 7:9).  Now we shall see if mortal sin does this to the soul.

The hairs of the soul are the various thoughts, innumerable, volatile, and voluble, like hair.  How many indeed are the thoughts of a man waking, sleeping, here and there etc, on the earth and at sea, to the extent that what David said of his thoughts, “They are multiplied,” namely, my thoughts, “above the hairs of my head,” here and there, “and my heart has forsaken me,” (Ps 39:13). For this reason Job said, “Various thoughts succeed one another in me, and my mind is hurried away to different things,” (Job 20:2).

I say that someone existing in grace has black hair, i.e. thoughts of humility, thinking of one’s own failures, because to the extent that a person is better, holier, and of a more perfect life, to that extent does he think more of his faults, saying within himself, “O you wretch [miser], these graces which God placed in me are so corrupted, like wine in a bad barrel, because I have not kept these graces and virtues pure and holy, etc.  This precious liquor of grace has turned bad from the defect of the container.”  Behold humility.  In this way the Blessed Virgin Mary was very humbled by thinking of the graces received from God, and out of humility considered herself to be almost nothing. Therefore the holy fathers ordered for a time, that when something is said in the choir, that they make a “venia” [monastic gesture for pardon for a ritual mistake in choir], as if seeking pardon, because it is impossible that something of ours be done without some defect, either in the deed, or in thought.  This is why scripture says of a devout person, “His locks [are] as branches of palm trees, black as a raven,” (Song 5:11).  “Locks,” i. e. thoughts, “like branches,” that is the leaves, “of the palm trees,” which are straight, which signifies that all good things which they do they attribute to God, saying: “Lord, if I have done anything good, it is by you, because on my part my thoughts and works are as black as a crow from their defects.”  The old age of mortal sin turns black hair white.

Certain ones, accustomed to sinning are quick to say, “So what if I have sinned?  David also sinned.  If I have fallen, a saint like him also fell.  I fast and give alms, I do such and such, and that other fellow does not.”  See the white thoughts, sins, of those who out of presumption do not acknowledge their own defects.  About this presumption, read Luke 23, about a certain man who was considered to be holy, who was saying, “O God, I give you thanks that I am not as the rest of men, extortionists, unjust, adulterers, as also is this publican.  I fast twice in a week…” (Lk 18:11-12).  This man had white hair.  He acted stupidly, and praised himself before God, and all was grey [canus] in him, not acknowledging any defect.  So it happens to you, when you go to confession. Some say: “Father, ask me, because I don’t remember any sin.”  First of all, they are lying.  But if the confessor would query, “What about your neighbor?” not only would they tell of mortal sins, but also venial.  You all are grey, not recognizing your defects.   It is a sign of an evil life to have such white thoughts, praising or commending oneself.  Therefore the Apostle, “And be renewed,” etc.

 

DULLING OF THE SENSES

The second defect is the stopping up [obturatio] of the senses, namely when the sight is clouded [ingrossatur, thickened], and one needs glasses. Also the hearing does not hear, nor does the smelling smell.  Same of taste and touch. Natural reason.  The heavy [grossi] humors indeed abound in old people and dull the senses.  Authority.  The soldier [Berzellai] said when he was invited by David, “I am this day eighty years old, are my senses quick to discern sweet and bitter? or can meat or drink delight thy servant? or can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing women?” (2 Kg 19:35).

Now let us see if any sin induces this defect in the soul.  I say that people who live in sin have the senses of the soul so obstructed, that they perceive nothing of the evils of the soul, but of the evils of the body they well are aware of.  V.g. If a man walks on the road barefoot, he will immediately feel a thorn.  But when you go to soothsayers for your health, as if  they are able to give you health, and the devil pierces your soul with a lance, you do not feel it.  So the evils of the body you perceive immediately, but not of the soul.  If someone storms through the house in a rage you know it I at once, yet you put up with a notorious witch [divinum notorium] etc., and you do not recognize it.  This sin suffices, that the anger of God would descend on you .  Also if you should find a pebble between the teeth [lapillus inter dentes] in your table forks [scutellis], you would notice it immediately. But when you hold a big rock in your mouth, by swearing and blaspheming, or by defaming your neighbor, you don’t notice it. See how sin makes you lose your senses.

 

WRINKLING OF THE SKIN

Third, I say that the third defect which old age brings is the breakdown or wrinkling of the skin.  Youths have soft skin and smooth hands and faces.  The old man however is wrinkled all over.  Natural reason.  Because the youth is fleshy and it fills out the skin, but in old people the flesh shrinks.  Therefore the skin wrinkles.  So Job, when it is told him that he was young, pointing out the opposite he said, “My wrinkles bear witness against me,” (Job 16:19).  If when a person stands in a good life in grace, the soul is young and fleshy.  The smooth skin of the soul is external conduct, and just as the skin covers the flesh, blood and bones, so conduct.  A good, holy and virtuous person is the same internally as he is outside of himself; how he is in the home, so he is in town; how in private, the same in public.  So if someone says that he is humble, he is humble, if he shows himself to be poor on the outside, so he is in his heart.  Same of chastity, abstinence, penance, patience and diligence, all is smooth skin.

But sin makes the skin of conduct wrinkle.  When indeed a man falls into sin, he is ashamed to make it public, and he shows himself to be other than what he is internally.  On the outside he shows himself to be humble, he bows his head, but inwardly pride abounds, like Lucifer, the skin is wrinkled.  He shows himself to be a lover of poverty, chastity, sincerity [claritatis], abstinence, patience, diligence, but within he is totally the opposite, all is wrinkled.  Some show themselves to be friends on the outside, saying, “If you want anything, I am all yours.”  But behind his back if they are able they accuse and defame and when they cannot do anything, some go at night and cut his vines, etc. saying,” He can’t prove it, and we will deny it.”  Such people are bound to restore the damages, if they wish to be saved, otherwise neither confession, or anything else will benefit for salvation.  The same for a notary changing someone’s will, or clauses of the will out of ill will.  Same for false witness in accusing a neighbor, all is wrinkled.

Do you want to know what sin is?  Christ said through the mouth of John, about someone smoothing or wrinkling, “I know your works, that you are neither cold, nor hot. I would you were cold, or hot.  But because you are lukewarm, and neither cold, not hot, I will begin to vomit you out of my mouth,” (Rev 3:15-16).   Hot or cold is the one who reveals himself externally how he is internally.  He is cold who, evil within, shows himself so externally.  If inside he has ill will, hate and rancor, against another he shows it outside.  He is hot who, good inside, shows himself so outside.  If a friend on the inside, he also shows it outside.

But lukewarm is the one who externally shows himself a friend, but inwardly he is an enemy; he greets you externally and defames you behind your back.  If it is asked, “Is it not better to be lukewarm than cold?”  I say, “No!,” because a man can refrain from being cold,  not from being lukewarm.  If a religious, or clergyman or lay person is warm, no evil follows, because they are good.  If cold, it is not credited to them, therefore no evil follows.  But when he is lukewarm, then he causes harm, because they confide in him, and he deceives.  A good woman should not confess to a  bad religious, or clergyman, or lay man, but because she trusts the lukewarm, and she is defrauded.  Behold why he says, “I would you were cold, …But because you are lukewarm, and neither cold, not hot, I will begin to vomit you out of my mouth.”(v. 16), and this when Christ says in judgment, “Depart from me, you cursed,” (Mt 25:41), because the lukewarm corrupt the whole world.  Therefore “be renewed in the spirit of your mind,” (Eph 4:23)

 

BOWING OF THE HEAD

I say fourth, that the fourth defect which old age brings on is the bowing of the head.  A young man goes erect, an old man bowed over.  Natural reason.  Just as a fire emits flames upward, so the heart of a young man is so warm, that it makes him go about upright, but when the warmth of the heart diminishes from old age, the head bows over.  Sin works this defect in the soul.  Someone who is without sin has the “head” of the soul, namely, thoughts, erect, by thinking of God, paradise, heavenly things, and he ardently desires to be there, to the extent that if God would say to him, “You have to leave here for a year.”  He would say to him, “O Lord, must I be separated from you and journey for so long?”  The heat of devotion raises his head, but mortal sin makes the head bow down to the earth, like beasts, which because they have no business in heaven, look at the ground.  A sinner does not delight in looking to heaven, just as a thief neither [delights in] looking at a judge presiding from his chair above him.  An example from the gospel about a certain publican.  The “publican,” however, “standing afar off, would not so much as lift up his eyes towards heaven;” (Lk 18:13),  because sin draws thinking and desiring downward to earthly things, saying, “O if I can have this or that. ”   So they descend downward to hell.

Of this the miracle of the gospel tells of a certain young woman, beautiful, who used to go about upright, and suddenly was inflicted with a curvature, and could not elevate her head so as to look at others.   All were amazed at her, not knowing why, but Christ knowing the cause said, “Woman, you are delivered from thy infirmity. And he laid his hands upon her, and immediately she was made straight, and glorified God,” (Lk 13:12-13), and Christ said, “And ought not this daughter of Abraham, whom Satan hath bound, lo, these eighteen years, be loosed from this bond…?” (Lk 13:16).

Thus the woman stands for the human soul, rightly advancing, who lived well, joyfully looking forward to her inheritance spelled out by her father in his will.  The clause of the will said: “Fear not, little flock, for it hath pleased your Father to give you a kingdom.” (Lk 12:32).  But when he sinned, he lost the warmth of devotion and became bent over, but when Christ touched the heart with his hands, giving contrition, it straightened.  Therefore Christ, “look up, and lift up your heads, because your redemption is at hand.” (Lk 21:28).  “And be renewed in the spirit of your mind,” (Eph 4:23)

 

WEAKNESS OF THE LIMBS

I say that the fifth defect which old age brings is the weakness of the members.  A young man is strong and robust; an old man feeble, so he is propped up with a cane.  “From the sole of the foot unto the top of the head, there is no soundness therein” (Isa 1:6)  This sin works in the soul.  When a soul is in grace it is strong, inasmuch as it cannot be pressured to sin by all the demons, but after sinning it is so weak that it immediately falls.  Just as women, a virgin or otherwise, before she sins, is firm in resisting, but when shame is lost, when corruption happened, they are weak and afterward easily fall and are seduced.  Therefore, women, turn yourselves away, lest you drop the reins of modesty. “Jerusalem hath grievously sinned, therefore is she become unstable,” (Lam 1:8).  So when a person is in grace, he has knees, hands and all his members strong for praying, and is not too tired [attaediatur] to genuflect, to elevating the  hands, nor for fasting, the hair shirt, or the discipline.  But from the fact that he is in sin, he is immediately weakened [attaediatur].  “For she is become weak unto good that dwells in bitterness,” (Mic 1:12).   Bitterness stands for sin, which leads the soul to the bitterness of damnation. Therefore, “be renewed in the spirit of your mind,” (Eph 4:23).

 

APPROACHING DEATH

Sixth, I say that for the sixth defect which old age produces is the approach of death.  Although the young man dies as well like the old, nevertheless naturally the young man is more distant from death, because he ought to live twenty or even fifty more years.  An old man however, is already at the gates of death.  “And that which decays and grows old, is near its end,” (Heb 8:13).  Sin does this to the soul; it makes the soul to be near infernal death, nearer than shirt [camisa] is to the body, because immediately when it leaves the body, it doesn’t delay for a year, or for a month to descend to hell, but in an instant. “They spend their days in wealth, and in a moment they go down to hell,” (Job 21:13).  Therefore David in the person of a sinner said, “There is but one step (as I may say) between me and,” eternal, “death.” (1 Kg 20:3).

If, therefore, mortal sin works these six defects in the soul, which old age works in the body, therefore it can well be said, morally speaking, to be the old age of the soul. Therefore, “Be renewed.”  Man is renewed by contrition, confession, and taking on or accepting penance, and by making satisfaction, and forgiving injuries.  And to the extent the injury is greater, to that extent the merit of remission is greater.   “Be renewed in the spirit of your mind,” (Eph 4:23)

Tuesday's Serial: “Lavengro” by George Borrow (in English) - XII

 

Chapter 23

the two individuals—the long pipe—the germans—werther—the female quaker—suicide—gibbon—jesus of bethlehem—fill your glass—shakespeare—english of minden—melancholy swayne vonved—are you happy?—improve yourself in german

 

It might be some six months after the events last recorded, that two individuals were seated together in a certain room, in a certain street of the old town which I have so frequently had occasion to mention in the preceding pages; one of them was an elderly, and the other a very young man, and they sat on either side of a fireplace, beside a table on which were fruit and wine; the room was a small one, and in its furniture exhibited nothing remarkable. Over the mantelpiece, however, hung a small picture with naked figures in the foreground, and with much foliage behind. It might not have struck every beholder, for it looked old and smoke-dried; but a connoisseur, on inspecting it closely, would have pronounced it to be a Judgment of Paris, and a masterpiece of the Flemish school.

The forehead of the elder individual was high, and perhaps appeared more so than it really was, from the hair being carefully brushed back, as if for the purpose of displaying to the best advantage that part of the cranium; his eyes were large and full, and of a light brown, and might have been called heavy and dull, had they not been occasionally lighted up by a sudden gleam—not so brilliant however as that which at every inhalation shone from the bowl of the long clay pipe which he was smoking, but which, from a certain sucking sound which about this time began to be heard from the bottom, appeared to be giving notice that it would soon require replenishment from a certain canister, which, together with a lighted taper, stood upon the table beside him.

'You do not smoke?' said he, at length, laying down his pipe, and directing his glance to his companion.

Now there was at least one thing singular connected with this last, namely, the colour of his hair, which, notwithstanding his extreme youth, appeared to be rapidly becoming grey. He had very long limbs, and was apparently tall of stature, in which he differed from his elderly companion, who must have been somewhat below the usual height.

'No, I can't smoke,' said the youth, in reply to the observation of the other; 'I have often tried, but could never succeed to my satisfaction.'

'Is it possible to become a good German without smoking?' said the senior, half speaking to himself.

'I daresay not,' said the youth; 'but I shan't break my heart on that account.'

'As for breaking your heart, of course you would never think of such a thing; he is a fool who breaks his heart on any account; but it is good to be a German, the Germans are the most philosophic people in the world, and the greatest smokers: now I trace their philosophy to their smoking.'

'I have heard say their philosophy is all smoke—is that your opinion?'

'Why, no; but smoking has a sedative effect upon the nerves, and enables a man to bear the sorrows of this life (of which every one has his share) not only decently, but dignifiedly. Suicide is not a national habit in Germany as it is in England.'

'But that poor creature, Werther, who committed suicide, was a German.'

'Werther is a fictitious character, and by no means a felicitous one; I am no admirer either of Werther or his author. But I should say that, if there ever was a Werther in Germany, he did not smoke. Werther, as you very justly observe, was a poor creature.'

'And a very sinful one; I have heard my parents say that suicide is a great crime.'

'Broadly, and without qualification, to say that suicide is a crime, is speaking somewhat unphilosophically. No doubt suicide, under many circumstances, is a crime, a very heinous one. When the father of a family, for example, to escape from certain difficulties, commits suicide, he commits a crime; there are those around him who look to him for support, by the law of nature, and he has no right to withdraw himself from those who have a claim upon his exertions; he is a person who decamps with other people's goods as well as his own. Indeed, there can be no crime which is not founded upon the depriving others of something which belongs to them. A man is hanged for setting fire to his house in a crowded city, for he burns at the same time or damages those of other people; but if a man who has a house on a heath sets fire to it, he is not hanged, for he has not damaged or endangered any other individual's property, and the principle of revenge, upon which all punishment is founded, has not been aroused. Similar to such a case is that of the man who, without any family ties, commits suicide; for example, were I to do the thing this evening, who would have a right to call me to account? I am alone in the world, have no family to support, and, so far from damaging any one, should even benefit my heir by my accelerated death. However, I am no advocate for suicide under any circumstances; there is something undignified in it, unheroic, un-Germanic. But if you must commit suicide—and there is no knowing to what people may be brought—always contrive to do it as decorously as possible; the decencies, whether of life or of death, should never be lost sight of. I remember a female Quaker who committed suicide by cutting her throat, but she did it decorously and decently: kneeling down over a pail, so that not one drop fell upon the floor; thus exhibiting in her last act that nice sense of neatness for which Quakers are distinguished. I have always had a respect for that woman's memory.'

And here, filling his pipe from the canister, and lighting it at the taper, he recommenced smoking calmly and sedately.

'But is not suicide forbidden in the Bible?' the youth demanded.

'Why, no; but what though it were!—the Bible is a respectable book, but I should hardly call it one whose philosophy is of the soundest. I have said that it is a respectable book; I mean respectable from its antiquity, and from containing, as Herder says, “the earliest records of the human race,” though those records are far from being dispassionately written, on which account they are of less value than they otherwise might have been. There is too much passion in the Bible, too much violence; now, to come to all truth, especially historic truth, requires cool dispassionate investigation, for which the Jews do not appear to have ever been famous. We are ourselves not famous for it, for we are a passionate people; the Germans are not—they are not a passionate people—a people celebrated for their oaths; we are. The Germans have many excellent historic writers, we . . . 'tis true we have Gibbon. . . . You have been reading Gibbon—what do you think of him?'

'I think him a very wonderful writer.'

'He is a wonderful writer—one sui generis—uniting the perspicuity of the English—for we are perspicuous—with the cool dispassionate reasoning of the Germans. Gibbon sought after the truth, found it, and made it clear.'

'Then you think Gibbon a truthful writer?'

'Why, yes; who shall convict Gibbon of falsehood? Many people have endeavoured to convict Gibbon of falsehood; they have followed him in his researches, and have never found him once tripping. Oh, he is a wonderful writer! his power of condensation is admirable; the lore of the whole world is to be found in his pages. Sometimes in a single note he has given us the result of the study of years; or, to speak metaphorically, "he has ransacked a thousand Gulistans, and has condensed all his fragrant booty into a single drop of otto.'"

'But was not Gibbon an enemy to the Christian faith?'

'Why, no; he was rather an enemy to priestcraft, so am I; and when I say the philosophy of the Bible is in many respects unsound, I always wish to make an exception in favour of that part of it which contains the life and sayings of Jesus of Bethlehem, to which I must always concede my unqualified admiration—of Jesus, mind you; for with his followers and their dogmas I have nothing to do. Of all historic characters Jesus is the most beautiful and the most heroic. I have always been a friend to hero-worship, it is the only rational one, and has always been in use amongst civilised people—the worship of spirits is synonymous with barbarism—it is mere fetish; the savages of West Africa are all spirit-worshippers. But there is something philosophic in the worship of the heroes of the human race, and the true hero is the benefactor. Brahma, Jupiter, Bacchus, were all benefactors, and, therefore, entitled to the worship of their respective peoples. The Celts worshipped Hesus, who taught them to plough, a highly useful art. We, who have attained a much higher state of civilisation than the Celts ever did, worship Jesus, the first who endeavoured to teach men to behave decently and decorously under all circumstances; who was the foe of vengeance, in which there is something highly indecorous; who had first the courage to lift his voice against that violent dogma, “an eye for an eye”; who shouted conquer, but conquer with kindness; who said put up the sword, a violent unphilosophic weapon; and who finally died calmly and decorously in defence of his philosophy. He must be a savage who denies worship to the hero of Golgotha.'

'But he was something more than a hero; he was the Son of God, wasn't he?'

The elderly individual made no immediate answer; but, after a few more whiffs from his pipe, exclaimed, 'Come, fill your glass! How do you advance with your translation of Tell?'

'It is nearly finished; but I do not think I shall proceed with it; I begin to think the original somewhat dull.'

'There you are wrong; it is the masterpiece of Schiller, the first of German poets.'

'It may be so,' said the youth. 'But, pray excuse me, I do not think very highly of German poetry. I have lately been reading Shakespeare; and, when I turn from him to the Germans—even the best of them—they appear mere pigmies. You will pardon the liberty I perhaps take in saying so.'

'I like that every one should have an opinion of his own,' said the elderly individual; 'and, what is more, declare it. Nothing displeases me more than to see people assenting to everything that they hear said; I at once come to the conclusion that they are either hypocrites, or there is nothing in them. But, with respect to Shakespeare, whom I have not read for thirty years, is he not rather given to bombast, “crackling bombast,” as I think I have said in one of my essays?'

'I daresay he is,' said the youth; 'but I can't help thinking him the greatest of all poets, not even excepting Homer. I would sooner have written that series of plays, founded on the fortunes of the House of Lancaster, than the Iliad itself. The events described are as lofty as those sung by Homer in his great work, and the characters brought upon the stage still more interesting. I think Hotspur as much of a hero as Hector, and young Henry more of a man than Achilles; and then there is the fat knight, the quintessence of fun, wit, and rascality. Falstaff is a creation beyond the genius even of Homer.'

'You almost tempt me to read Shakespeare again—but the Germans?'

'I don't admire the Germans,' said the youth, somewhat excited. 'I don't admire them in any point of view. I have heard my father say that, though good sharpshooters, they can't be much depended upon as soldiers; and that old Sergeant Meredith told him that Minden would never have been won but for the two English regiments, who charged the French with fixed bayonets, and sent them to the right-about in double-quick time. With respect to poetry, setting Shakespeare and the English altogether aside, I think there is another Gothic nation, at least, entitled to dispute with them the palm. Indeed, to my mind, there is more genuine poetry contained in the old Danish book which I came so strangely by, than has been produced in Germany from the period of the Niebelungen lay to the present.'

'Ah, the Kœmpe Viser?' said the elderly individual, breathing forth an immense volume of smoke, which he had been collecting during the declamation of his young companion. 'There are singular things in that book, I must confess; and I thank you for showing it to me, or rather your attempt at translation. I was struck with that ballad of Orm Ungarswayne, who goes by night to the grave-hill of his father to seek for counsel. And then, again, that strange melancholy Swayne Vonved, who roams about the world propounding people riddles; slaying those who cannot answer, and rewarding those who can with golden bracelets. Were it not for the violence, I should say that ballad has a philosophic tendency. I thank you for making me acquainted with the book, and I thank the Jew Mousha for making me acquainted with you.'

'That Mousha was a strange customer,' said the youth, collecting himself.

'He was a strange customer,' said the elder individual, breathing forth a gentle cloud. 'I love to exercise hospitality to wandering strangers, especially foreigners; and when he came to this place, pretending to teach German and Hebrew, I asked him to dinner. After the first dinner, he asked me to lend him five pounds; I did lend him five pounds. After the fifth dinner, he asked me to lend him fifty pounds; I did not lend him the fifty pounds.'

'He was as ignorant of German as of Hebrew,' said the youth; 'on which account he was soon glad, I suppose, to transfer his pupil to some one else.'

'He told me,' said the elder individual, 'that he intended to leave a town where he did not find sufficient encouragement; and, at the same time, expressed regret at being obliged to abandon a certain extraordinary pupil, for whom he had a particular regard. Now I, who have taught many people German from the love which I bear to it, and the desire which I feel that it should be generally diffused, instantly said that I should be happy to take his pupil off his hands, and afford him what instruction I could in German, for, as to Hebrew, I have never taken much interest in it. Such was the origin of our acquaintance. You have been an apt scholar. Of late, however, I have seen little of you—what is the reason?'

The youth made no answer.

'You think, probably, that you have learned all I can teach you? Well, perhaps you are right.'

'Not so, not so,' said the young man eagerly; 'before I knew you I knew nothing, and am still very ignorant; but of late my father's health has been very much broken, and he requires attention; his spirits also have become low, which, to tell you the truth, he attributes to my misconduct. He says that I have imbibed all kinds of strange notions and doctrines, which will, in all probability, prove my ruin, both here and hereafter; which—which—'

'Ah! I understand,' said the elder, with another calm whiff. 'I have always had a kind of respect for your father, for there is something remarkable in his appearance, something heroic, and I would fain have cultivated his acquaintance; the feeling, however, has not been reciprocated. I met him, the other day, up the road, with his cane and dog, and saluted him; he did not return my salutation.'

'He has certain opinions of his own,' said the youth, 'which are widely different from those which he has heard that you profess.'

'I respect a man for entertaining an opinion of his own,' said the elderly individual. 'I hold certain opinions; but I should not respect an individual the more for adopting them. All I wish for is tolerance, which I myself endeavour to practise. I have always loved the truth, and sought it; if I have not found it, the greater my misfortune.'

'Are you happy?' said the young man.

'Why, no! And, between ourselves, it is that which induces me to doubt sometimes the truth of my opinions. My life, upon the whole, I consider a failure; on which account, I would not counsel you, or any one, to follow my example too closely. It is getting late, and you had better be going, especially as your father, you say, is anxious about you. But, as we may never meet again, I think there are three things which I may safely venture to press upon you. The first is, that the decencies and gentlenesses should never be lost sight of, as the practice of the decencies and gentlenesses is at all times compatible with independence of thought and action. The second thing which I would wish to impress upon you is, that there is always some eye upon us; and that it is impossible to keep anything we do from the world, as it will assuredly be divulged by somebody as soon as it is his interest to do so. The third thing which I would wish to press upon you—'

'Yes,' said the youth, eagerly bending forward.

'Is—' and here the elderly individual laid down his pipe upon the table—'that it will be as well to go on improving yourself in German!'

 

 

Chapter 24

the alehouse-keeper—compassion for the rich—old english gentleman—how is this?—madeira—the greek parr—twenty languages—whiter's health—about the fight—a sporting gentleman—flattened nose—that pightle—the surly nod

 

'Holloa, master! can you tell us where the fight is likely to be?'

Such were the words shouted out to me by a short thick fellow, in brown top-boots, and bareheaded, who stood, with his hands in his pockets, at the door of a country alehouse as I was passing by.

Now, as I knew nothing about the fight, and as the appearance of the man did not tempt me greatly to enter into conversation with him, I merely answered in the negative, and continued my way.

It was a fine lovely morning in May, the sun shone bright above, and the birds were carolling in the hedgerows. I was wont to be cheerful at such seasons, for, from my earliest recollection, sunshine and the song of birds have been dear to me; yet, about that period, I was not cheerful, my mind was not at rest; I was debating within myself, and the debate was dreary and unsatisfactory enough. I sighed, and turning my eyes upward, I ejaculated, 'What is truth?'

But suddenly, by a violent effort breaking away from my meditations, I hastened forward; one mile, two miles, three miles were speedily left behind; and now I came to a grove of birch and other trees, and opening a gate I passed up a kind of avenue, and soon arriving before a large brick house, of rather antique appearance, knocked at the door.

In this house there lived a gentleman with whom I had business. He was said to be a genuine old English gentleman, and a man of considerable property; at this time, however, he wanted a thousand pounds, as gentlemen of considerable property every now and then do. I had brought him a thousand pounds in my pocket, for it is astonishing how many eager helpers the rich find, and with what compassion people look upon their distresses. He was said to have good wine in his cellar.

'Is your master at home?' said I, to a servant who appeared at the door.

'His worship is at home, young man,' said the servant, as he looked at my shoes, which bore evidence that I had come walking. 'I beg your pardon, sir,' he added, as he looked me in the face.

'Ay, ay, servants,' thought I, as I followed the man into the house, 'always look people in the face when you open the door, and do so before you look at their shoes, or you may mistake the heir of a Prime Minister for a shopkeeper's son.'

I found his worship a jolly, red-faced gentleman, of about fifty-five; he was dressed in a green coat, white corduroy breeches, and drab gaiters, and sat on an old-fashioned leather sofa, with two small, thoroughbred, black English terriers, one on each side of him. He had all the appearance of a genuine old English gentleman who kept good wine in his cellar.

'Sir,' said I, 'I have brought you a thousand pounds'; and I said this after the servant had retired, and the two terriers had ceased the barking which is natural to all such dogs at the sight of a stranger.

And when the magistrate had received the money, and signed and returned a certain paper which I handed to him, he rubbed his hands, and looking very benignantly at me, exclaimed—

'And now, young gentleman, that our business is over, perhaps you can tell me where the fight is to take place?'

'I am sorry, sir,' said I, 'that I can't inform you, but everybody seems to be anxious about it'; and then I told him what had occurred to me on the road with the alehouse-keeper.

'I know him,' said his worship; 'he's a tenant of mine, and a good fellow, somewhat too much in my debt though. But how is this, young gentleman, you look as if you had been walking; you did not come on foot?'

'Yes, sir, I came on foot.'

'On foot! why it is sixteen miles.'

'I shan't be tired when I have walked back.'

'You can't ride, I suppose?'

'Better than I can walk.'

'Then why do you walk?'

'I have frequently to make journeys connected with my profession; sometimes I walk, sometimes I ride, just as the whim takes me.'

'Will you take a glass of wine?'

'Yes.'

'That's right; what shall it be?'

'Madeira!'

The magistrate gave a violent slap on his knee; 'I like your taste,' said he, 'I am fond of a glass of Madeira myself, and can give you such a one as you will not drink every day; sit down, young gentleman, you shall have a glass of Madeira, and the best I have.'

Thereupon he got up, and followed by his two terriers, walked slowly out of the room.

I looked round the room, and, seeing nothing which promised me much amusement, I sat down, and fell again into my former train of thought. 'What is truth?' said I.

'Here it is,' said the magistrate, returning at the end of a quarter of an hour, followed by the servant with a tray; 'here's the true thing, or I am no judge, far less a justice. It has been thirty years in my cellar last Christmas. There,' said he to the servant, 'put it down, and leave my young friend and me to ourselves. Now, what do you think of it?'

'It is very good,' said I.

'Did you ever taste better Madeira?'

'I never before tasted Madeira.'

'Then you ask for a wine without knowing what it is?'

'I ask for it, sir, that I may know what it is.'

'Well, there is logic in that, as Parr would say; you have heard of Parr?'

'Old Parr?'

'Yes, old Parr, but not that Parr; you mean the English, I the Greek Parr, as people call him.'

'I don't know him.'

'Perhaps not—rather too young for that, but were you of my age, you might have cause to know him, coming from where you do. He kept school there, I was his first scholar; he flogged Greek into me till I loved him—and he loved me: he came to see me last year, and sat in that chair; I honour Parr—he knows much, and is a sound man.'

'Does he know the truth?'

'Know the truth! he knows what's good, from an oyster to an ostrich—he's not only sound, but round.'

'Suppose we drink his health?'

'Thank you, boy: here's Parr's health, and Whiter's.'

'Who is Whiter?'

'Don't you know Whiter? I thought everybody knew Reverend Whiter the philologist, though I suppose you scarcely know what that means. A man fond of tongues and languages, quite out of your way—he understands some twenty; what do you say to that?'

'Is he a sound man?'

'Why, as to that, I scarcely know what to say: he has got queer notions in his head—wrote a book to prove that all words came originally from the earth—who knows? Words have roots, and roots live in the earth; but, upon the whole, I should not call him altogether a sound man, though he can talk Greek nearly as fast as Parr.'

'Is he a round man?'

'Ay, boy, rounder than Parr; I'll sing you a song, if you like, which will let you into his character:—

 

'Give me the haunch of a buck to eat, and to drink Madeira old,

 And a gentle wife to rest with, and in my arms to fold,

 An Arabic book to study, a Norfolk cob to ride,

 And a house to live in shaded with trees, and near to a river side;

 With such good things around me, and blessed with good health withal,

 Though I should live for a hundred years, for death I would not call.

 

Here's to Whiter's health—so you know nothing about the fight?'

'No, sir; the truth is, that of late I have been very much occupied with various matters, otherwise I should, perhaps, have been able to afford you some information—boxing is a noble art.'

'Can you box?'

'A little.'

'I tell you what, my boy; I honour you, and provided your education had been a little less limited, I should have been glad to see you here in company with Parr and Whiter; both can box. Boxing is, as you say, a noble art—a truly English art; may I never see the day when Englishmen shall feel ashamed of it, or blacklegs and blackguards bring it into disgrace. I am a magistrate, and, of course, cannot patronise the thing very openly, yet I sometimes see a prize fight: I saw the Game Chicken beat Gulley.'

'Did you ever see Big Ben?'

'No; why do you ask?' But here we heard a noise, like that of a gig driving up to the door, which was immediately succeeded by a violent knocking and ringing, and after a little time the servant who had admitted me made his appearance in the room. 'Sir,' said he, with a certain eagerness of manner, 'here are two gentlemen waiting to speak to you.'

'Gentlemen waiting to speak to me! who are they?'

'I don't know, sir,' said the servant; 'but they look like sporting gentlemen, and—and'—here he hesitated; 'from a word or two they dropped, I almost think that they come about the fight.'

'About the fight!' said the magistrate. 'No; that can hardly be; however, you had better show them in.'

Heavy steps were now heard ascending the stairs, and the servant ushered two men into the apartment. Again there was a barking, but louder than that which had been directed against myself, for here were two intruders; both of them were remarkable-looking men, but to the foremost of them the most particular notice may well be accorded: he was a man somewhat under thirty, and nearly six feet in height. He was dressed in a blue coat, white corduroy breeches, fastened below the knee with small golden buttons; on his legs he wore white lamb's-wool stockings, and on his feet shoes reaching to the ankles; round his neck was a handkerchief of the blue and bird's eye pattern; he wore neither whiskers nor moustaches, and appeared not to delight in hair, that of his head, which was of a light brown, being closely cropped; the forehead was rather high, but somewhat narrow; the face neither broad nor sharp, perhaps rather sharp than broad; the nose was almost delicate; the eyes were grey, with an expression in which there was sternness blended with something approaching to feline; his complexion was exceedingly pale, relieved, however, by certain pock-marks, which here and there studded his countenance; his form was athletic, but lean; his arms long. In the whole appearance of the man there was a blending of the bluff and the sharp. You might have supposed him a bruiser; his dress was that of one in all its minutiæ; something was wanting, however, in his manner—the quietness of the professional man; he rather looked like one performing the part—well—very well—but still performing a part. His companion!—there, indeed, was the bruiser—no mistake about him: a tall massive man, with a broad countenance and a flattened nose; dressed like a bruiser, but not like a bruiser going into the ring; he wore white-topped boots, and a loose brown jockey coat.

As the first advanced towards the table, behind which the magistrate sat, he doffed a white castor from his head, and made rather a genteel bow; looking at me, who sat somewhat on one side, he gave a kind of nod of recognition.

'May I request to know who you are, gentlemen?' said the magistrate.

'Sir,' said the man in a deep, but not unpleasant voice, 'allow me to introduce to you my friend, Mr. ——, the celebrated pugilist'; and he motioned with his hand towards the massive man with the flattened nose.

'And your own name, sir?' said the magistrate.

'My name is no matter,' said the man; 'were I to mention it to you, it would awaken within you no feeling of interest. It is neither Kean nor Belcher, and I have as yet done nothing to distinguish myself like either of those individuals, or even like my friend here. However, a time may come—we are not yet buried; and whensoever my hour arrives, I hope I shall prove myself equal to my destiny, however high—

            'Like bird that's bred amongst the Helicons.'

And here a smile half theatrical passed over his features.

'In what can I oblige you, sir?' said the magistrate.

'Well, sir; the soul of wit is brevity; we want a place for an approaching combat between my friend here and a brave from town. Passing by your broad acres this fine morning we saw a pightle, which we deemed would suit. Lend us that pightle, and receive our thanks; 'twould be a favour, though not much to grant: we neither ask for Stonehenge nor for Tempe.'

My friend looked somewhat perplexed; after a moment, however, he said, with a firm but gentlemanly air, 'Sir, I am sorry that I cannot comply with your request.'

'Not comply!' said the man, his brow becoming dark as midnight; and with a hoarse and savage tone, 'Not comply! why not?'

'It is impossible, sir; utterly impossible!'

'Why so?'

'I am not compelled to give my reasons to you, sir, nor to any man.'

'Let me beg of you to alter your decision,' said the man, in a tone of profound respect.

'Utterly impossible, sir; I am a magistrate.'

'Magistrate! then fare ye well, for a green-coated buffer and a Harmanbeck.'

'Sir!' said the magistrate, springing up with a face fiery with wrath.

But, with a surly nod to me, the man left the apartment; and in a moment more the heavy footsteps of himself and his companion were heard descending the staircase.

'Who is that man?' said my friend, turning towards me.

'A sporting gentleman, well known in the place from which I come.'

'He appeared to know you.'

'I have occasionally put on the gloves with him.'

'What is his name?'

Monday's Illustrated Word: "Menace of the Mouse-Traps!" by Joe Samachson (in English)

  art by George Roussos - Detective Comics #78 - DC Comics, August 1943.

 

 

Good Reading: "Adventurer" by Robert E. Howard (in English)

Dusk on the sea; the fading twilight shifts'
The night wind bears the ocean's whisper dim—
Wind, on your bosom many a phantom drifts—
A silver star climbs up the blue world rim.
Wind, make the green leaves dance above me here
And idly swing my silken hammock—so;
Now, on that glimmering molten silver mere
Send the long ripples wavering to and fro.
And let your moon-white tresses touch my face
And let me know your slim-armed, cool embrace
While to my dreamy soul you whisper low.

Dream—aye, I've dreamed since last night left her tower
And now again she comes on star-soled feet.
Welcome, old friend; here in this rose-gemmed bower
I've drowsed away your Sultan's golden heat.
Here in my hammock, Time I've dreamed away
For I have but to stretch a hand out, lo,
I'm treading langurous shores of Yesterday,
Moon-silvered deserts or the star-weird snow;
I float o'er seas where ships are purple shells,
I hear the tinkle of the camel bells
That waft down Cairo's streets when dawn winds blow.

South Seas! I watch when dusky twilight comes
Making vague gods of ancient, sea-set trees.
The world path beckons—loud the mystic drums—
Here at my hand the magic golden keys
That fit the doors of Romance, Wonder, strange
Dim gossamer adventures; seas and stars.
Why, I have roamed the far Moon Mountain range
When sunset minted gold in shimmering bars.
All eager eyed I've sailed from ports of Spain
And watched the flashing topaz of the Main
When dawn was flinging witch fire on the spars.

I am content in dreams to roam my fill
The vagrant, drifting sport of wind and tide,
Slave of the greater freedom, venture's thrill;
Here every magic ship on which I ride.
Gold, green, blue, red, a priceless treasure trove,
More wealth than ever pirate dared to dream.
My hammock swings—about the world I rove.
The sunset's dusk, the dawning's glide and gleam,
Moon-dappled leaves are murmuring in the wind
Which whispers tales. Lo, Tyre is just behind,
Through seas of dawn I sail, Romance abeam.

Friday's Sung Word: "Noite Cheia de Estrêlas" by Cândido das Neves (in Portuguese)

Noite alta, céu risonho
A quietude é quase um sonho
O luar cai sobre a mata
Qual uma chuva de prata
De raríssimo esplendor
Só tu dormes, não escutas
O teu cantor
Revelando à lua airosa
A história dolorosa deste amor

Lua, manda a tua luz prateada
Despertar a minha amada
Quero matar meus desejos
Sufocá-la com os meus beijos
Canto e a mulher que eu amo tanto
Não me escuta, está dormindo
Canto e por fim
Nem a lua tem pena de mim
Pois ao ver que quem te chama sou eu
Entre a neblina se escondeu

Lá no alto a lua esquiva (A lua, deidade esquiva, - Osny Silva)
Está no céu tão pensativa
As estrelas tão serenas
Qual dilúvio de falenas
Andam tontas ao luar
Todo o astral ficou silente
Para escutar
O teu nome entre as endechas
A dolorosas queixas ao luar.

 

You can listen "Noite Cheia de Estrêlas" sung by Vicente Celestino here.

You can listen "Noite Cheia de Estrêlas" sung by Paulo Tapajós here.

You can listen "Noite Cheia de Estrêlas" sung by Sílvio Caldas here.

You can listen "Noite Cheia de Estrêlas" sung by Nelson Gonçalves here.

You can listen "Noite Cheia de Estrêlas" sung by Osny Silva here.

You can listen "Noite Cheia de Estrêlas" sung by Jessé here.