Chapter 95
wooded retreat—fresh shoes—wood
fire—ash, when green—queen of china—cleverest people—declensions—armenian—thunder—deep
olive—what do you mean?—bushes—wood pigeon—old göthe
Nearly three days elapsed without anything of
particular moment occurring. Belle drove the little cart containing her
merchandise about the neighbourhood, returning to the dingle towards the
evening. As for myself, I kept within my wooded retreat, working during the
periods of her absence leisurely at my forge. Having observed that the
quadruped which my companion drove was as much in need of shoes as my own had
been some time previously, I had determined to provide it with a set, and
during the aforesaid periods occupied myself in preparing them. As I was
employed three mornings and afternoons about them, I am sure that the reader
will agree that I worked leisurely, or rather, lazily. On the third day Belle
arrived somewhat later than usual; I was lying on my back at the bottom of the
dingle, employed in tossing up the shoes which I had produced, and catching
them as they fell, some being always in the air mounting or descending,
somewhat after the fashion of the waters of a fountain.
'Why have you been absent so long?' said I to
Belle; 'it must be long past four by the day.'
'I have been almost killed by the heat,' said
Belle; 'I was never out in a more sultry day—the poor donkey, too, could
scarcely move along.'
'He shall have fresh shoes,' said I, continuing my
exercise; 'here they are quite ready; to-morrow I will tack them on.'
'And why are you playing with them in that
manner?' said Belle.
'Partly in triumph at having made them, and partly
to show that I can do something besides making them; it is not everyone who,
after having made a set of horse-shoes, can keep them going up and down in the
air, without letting one fall.'
'One has now fallen on your chin,' said Belle.
'And another on my cheek,' said I, getting up; 'it
is time to discontinue the game, for the last shoe drew blood.'
Belle went to her own little encampment; and as
for myself, after having flung the donkey's shoes into my tent, I put some
fresh wood on the fire, which was nearly out, and hung the kettle over it. I
then issued forth from the dingle, and strolled round the wood that surrounded
it; for a long time I was busied in meditation, looking at the ground, striking
with my foot, half unconsciously, the tufts of grass and thistles that I met in
my way. After some time, I lifted up my eyes to the sky, at first vacantly, and
then with more attention, turning my head in all directions for a minute or
two; after which I returned to the dingle. Isopel was seated near the fire,
over which the kettle was now hung; she had changed her dress—no signs of the
dust and fatigue of her late excursion remained; she had just added to the fire
a small billet of wood, two or three of which I had left beside it; the fire
cracked, and a sweet odour filled the dingle.
'I am fond of sitting by a wood fire,' said Belle,
'when abroad, whether it be hot or cold; I love to see the flames dart out of
the wood; but what kind is this, and where did you get it?'
'It is ash,' said I, 'green ash. Somewhat less
than a week ago, whilst I was wandering along the road by the side of a wood, I
came to a place where some peasants were engaged in cutting up and clearing
away a confused mass of fallen timber: a mighty aged oak had given way the
night before, and in its fall had shivered some smaller trees; the upper part
of the oak, and the fragments of the rest, lay across the road. I purchased,
for a trifle, a bundle or two, and the wood on the fire is part of it—ash,
green ash.'
'That makes good the old rhyme,' said Belle,
'which I have heard sung by the old women in the great house:—
'Ash,
when green,
Is
fire for a queen.'
'And on fairer form of queen ash fire never
shone,' said I, 'than on thine, O beauteous queen of the dingle.'
'I am half disposed to be angry with you, young
man,' said Belle.
'And why not entirely?' said I.
Belle made no reply.
'Shall I tell you?' I demanded. 'You had no
objection to the first part of the speech, but you did not like being called
queen of the dingle. Well, if I had the power, I would make you queen of
something better than the dingle—Queen of China. Come, let us have tea.'
'Something less would content me,' said Belle,
sighing, as she rose to prepare our evening meal.
So we took tea together, Belle and I. 'How
delicious tea is after a hot summer's day and a long walk,' said she.
'I daresay it is most refreshing then,' said I;
'but I have heard people say that they most enjoy it on a cold winter's night,
when the kettle is hissing on the fire, and their children playing on the
hearth.'
Belle sighed. 'Where does tea come from?' she
presently demanded.
'From China,' said I; 'I just now mentioned it,
and the mention of it put me in mind of tea.'
'What kind of country is China?'
'I know very little about it; all I know is, that
it is a very large country far to the East, but scarcely large enough to
contain its inhabitants, who are so numerous, that though China does not cover
one-ninth part of the world, its inhabitants amount to one-third of the
population of the world.'
'And do they talk as we do?'
'Oh no! I know nothing of their language; but I
have heard that it is quite different from all others, and so difficult that
none but the cleverest people amongst foreigners can master it, on which
account, perhaps, only the French pretend to know anything about it.'
'Are the French so very clever, then?' said Belle.
'They say there are no people like them, at least
in Europe. But talking of Chinese reminds me that I have not for some time past
given you a lesson in Armenian. The word for tea in Armenian is—by the by what
is the Armenian word for tea?'
'That's your affair, not mine,' said Belle; 'it
seems hard that the master should ask the scholar.'
'Well,' said I, 'whatever the word may be in
Armenian, it is a noun; and as we have never yet declined an Armenian noun
together, we may as well take this opportunity of declining one. Belle, there
are ten declensions in Armenian!'
'What's a declension?'
'The way of declining a noun.'
'Then, in the civilest way imaginable, I decline
the noun. Is that a declension?'
'You should never play on words; to do so is low,
vulgar, smelling of the pothouse, the workhouse. Belle, I insist on your
declining an Armenian noun.'
'I have done so already,' said Belle.
'If you go on in this way,' said I, 'I shall
decline taking any more tea with you. Will you decline an Armenian noun?'
'I don't like the language,' said Belle. 'If you
must teach me languages, why not teach me French or Chinese?'
'I know nothing of Chinese; and as for French,
none but a Frenchman is clever enough to speak it—to say nothing of teaching;
no, we will stick to Armenian, unless, indeed, you would prefer Welsh!'
'Welsh, I have heard, is vulgar,' said Belle; 'so,
if I must learn one of the two, I will prefer Armenian, which I never heard of
till you mentioned it to me; though, of the two, I really think Welsh sounds
best.'
'The Armenian noun,' said I, 'which I propose for
your declension this night, is ——, which signifieth Master.'
'I neither like the word nor the sound,' said
Belle.
'I can't help that,' said I; 'it is the word I
choose: Master, with all its variations, being the first noun the sound of
which I would have you learn from my lips. Come, let us begin—
'A master. Of a master, etc. Repeat—'
'I am not much used to say the word,' said Belle,
'but to oblige you I will decline it as you wish'; and thereupon Belle declined
Master in Armenian.
'You have declined the noun very well,' said I;
'that is in the singular number; we will now go to the plural.'
'What is the plural?' said Belle.
'That which implies more than one, for example,
Masters; you shall now go through masters in Armenian.'
'Never,' said Belle, 'never; it is bad to have one
master, but more I would never bear, whether in Armenian or English.'
'You do not understand,' said I; 'I merely want
you to decline Masters in Armenian.'
'I do decline them; I will have nothing to do with
them, nor with master either; I was wrong to— What sound is that?'
'I did not hear it, but I daresay it is thunder;
in Armenian—'
'Never mind what it is in Armenian; but why do you
think it is thunder?'
'Ere I returned from my stroll, I looked up into
the heavens, and by their appearance I judged that a storm was nigh at hand.'
'And why did you not tell me so?'
'You never asked me about the state of the
atmosphere, and I am not in the habit of giving my opinion to people on any
subject, unless questioned. But, setting that aside, can you blame me for not
troubling you with forebodings about storm and tempest, which might have
prevented the pleasure you promised yourself in drinking tea, or perhaps a
lesson in Armenian, though you pretend to dislike the latter?'
'My dislike is not pretended,' said Belle; 'I hate
the sound of it, but I love my tea, and it was kind of you not to wish to cast
a cloud over my little pleasures; the thunder came quite time enough to
interrupt it without being anticipated—there is another peal—I will clear away,
and see that my tent is in a condition to resist the storm; and I think you had
better bestir yourself.'
Isopel departed, and I remained seated on my
stone, as nothing belonging to myself required any particular attention; in
about a quarter of an hour she returned, and seated herself upon her stool.
'How dark the place is become since I left you,'
said she; 'just as if night were just at hand.'
'Look up at the sky,' said I; 'and you will not
wonder; it is all of a deep olive. The wind is beginning to rise; hark how it
moans among the branches, and see how their tops are bending; it brings dust on
its wings—I felt some fall on my face; and what is this, a drop of rain?'
'We shall have plenty anon,' said Belle; 'do you
hear? it already begins to hiss upon the embers; that fire of ours will soon be
extinguished.'
'It is not probable that we shall want it,' said
I, 'but we had better seek shelter: let us go into my tent.'
'Go in,' said Belle, 'but you go in alone; as for
me, I will seek my own.'
'You are right,' said I, 'to be afraid of me; I
have taught you to decline master in Armenian.'
'You almost tempt me,' said Belle, 'to make you
decline mistress in English.'
'To make matters short,' said I, 'I decline a
mistress.'
'What do you mean?' said Belle, angrily.
'I have merely done what you wished me,' said I,
'and in your own style; there is no other way of declining anything in English,
for in English there are no declensions.'
'The rain is increasing,' said Belle.
'It is so,' said I; 'I shall go to my tent; you
may come if you please; I do assure you I am not afraid of you.'
'Nor I of you,' said Belle; 'so I will come. Why
should I be afraid? I can take my own part; that is—'
We went into the tent and sat down, and now the
rain began to pour with vehemence. 'I hope we shall not be flooded in this
hollow,' said I to Belle. 'There is no fear of that,' said Belle; 'the
wandering people, amongst other names, call it the dry hollow. I believe there
is a passage somewhere or other by which the wet is carried off. There must be
a cloud right above us, it is so dark. Oh! what a flash!'
'And what a peal!' said I; 'that is what the
Hebrews call Koul Adonai—the voice of the Lord. Are you afraid?'
'No,' said Belle, 'I rather like to hear it.'
'You are right,' said I, 'I am fond of the sound
of thunder myself. There is nothing like it; Koul Adonai behadar: the voice of
the Lord is a glorious voice, as the prayer-book version hath it.'
'There is something awful in it,' said Belle; 'and
then the lightning—the whole dingle is now in a blaze.'
'“The voice of the Lord maketh the hinds to calve,
and discovereth the thick bushes.” As you say, there is something awful in
thunder.'
'There are all kinds of noises above us,' said
Belle; 'surely I heard the crashing of a tree?'
'“The voice of the Lord breaketh the cedar
trees,”' said I, 'but what you hear is caused by a convulsion of the air;
during a thunder-storm there are occasionally all kinds of aerial noises. Ab
Gwilym, who, next to King David, has best described a thunder-storm, speaks of
these aerial noises in the following manner:—
'Astonied
now I stand at strains,
As
of ten thousand clanking chains;
And
once, methought that, overthrown,
The
welkin's oaks came whelming down;
Upon
my head up starts my hair:
Why
hunt abroad the hounds of air?
What
cursed hag is screeching high,
Whilst
crash goes all her crockery?'
You would hardly believe, Belle, that though I
offered at least ten thousand lines nearly as good as those to the booksellers
in London, the simpletons were so blind to their interest as to refuse
purchasing them!'
'I don't wonder at it,' said Belle, 'especially if
such dreadful expressions frequently occur as that towards the end;—surely that
was the crash of a tree?'
'Ah!' said I, 'there falls the cedar tree—I mean
the sallow; one of the tall trees on the outside of the dingle has been snapped
short.'
'What a pity,' said Belle, 'that the fine old oak,
which you saw the peasants cutting up, gave way the other night, when scarcely
a breath of air was stirring; how much better to have fallen in a storm like
this, the fiercest I remember.'
'I don't think so,' said I; 'after braving a
thousand tempests, it was meeter for it to fall of itself than to be vanquished
at last. But to return to Ab Gwilym's poetry: he was above culling dainty
words, and spoke boldly his mind on all subjects. Enraged with the thunder for
parting him and Morfydd, he says, at the conclusion of his ode,
'My
curse, O Thunder, cling to thee,
For
parting my dear pearl and me!'
'You and I shall part, that is, I shall go to my
tent, if you persist in repeating from him. The man must have been a savage. A
poor wood-pigeon has fallen dead.'
'Yes,' said I, 'there he lies, just outside the
tent; often have I listened to his note when alone in the wilderness. So you do
not like Ab Gwilym; what say you to old Göthe?—
'Mist
shrouds the night, and rack;
Hear,
in the woods, what an awful crack!
Wildly
the owls are flitting,
Hark
to the pillars splitting
Of
palaces verdant ever,
The
branches quiver and sever,
The
mighty stems are creaking,
The
poor roots breaking and shrieking,
In
wild mixt ruin down dashing,
O'er
one another they're crashing;
Whilst
'midst the rocks so hoary
Whirlwinds
hurry and worry.
Hear'st
not, sister—'
'Hark!'
said Belle, 'hark!'
'Hear'st
not, sister, a chorus
Of
voices—?'
'No,'
said Belle, 'but I hear a voice.'
Chapter 96
a shout—a fireball—see to the
horses—passing away—gap in the hedge—on three wheels—why do you stop?—no craven
heart—the cordial—bags
I listened attentively, but I could hear nothing
but the loud clashing of branches, the pattering of rain, and the muttered
growl of thunder. I was about to tell Belle that she must have been mistaken,
when I heard a shout—indistinct, it is true, owing to the noises aforesaid—from
some part of the field above the dingle. 'I will soon see what's the matter,'
said I to Belle, starting up. 'I will go too,' said the girl. 'Stay where you
are,' said I; 'If I need you, I will call'; and, without waiting for any
answer, I hurried to the mouth of the dingle. I was about a few yards only from
the top of the ascent, when I beheld a blaze of light, from whence I knew not;
the next moment there was a loud crash, and I appeared involved in a cloud of
sulphurous smoke. 'Lord have mercy upon us!' I heard a voice say, and methought
I heard the plunging and struggling of horses. I had stopped short on hearing
the crash, for I was half stunned; but I now hurried forward, and in a moment
stood upon the plain. Here I was instantly aware of the cause of the crash and
the smoke. One of those balls, generally called fireballs, had fallen from the
clouds, and was burning on the plain at a short distance; and the voice which I
had heard, and the plunging were as easily accounted for. Near the left-hand
corner of the grove which surrounded the dingle, and about ten yards from the
fireball, I perceived a chaise, with a postilion on the box, who was making
efforts, apparently useless, to control his horses, which were kicking and
plunging in the highest degree of excitement. I instantly ran towards the
chaise, in order to offer what help was in my power. 'Help me,' said the poor
fellow, as I drew nigh; but before I could reach the horses, they had turned
rapidly round, one of the fore-wheels flew from its axle-tree, the chaise was
overset, and the postilion flung violently from his seat upon the field. The
horses now became more furious than before, kicking desperately, and
endeavouring to disengage themselves from the fallen chaise. As I was
hesitating whether to run to the assistance of the postilion or endeavour to
disengage the animals, I heard the voice of Belle exclaiming, 'See to the
horses, I will look after the man.' She had, it seems, been alarmed by the
crash which accompanied the fire-bolt, and had hurried up to learn the cause. I
forthwith seized the horses by the heads, and used all the means I possessed to
soothe and pacify them, employing every gentle modulation of which my voice was
capable. Belle, in the meantime, had raised up the man, who was much stunned by
his fall; but, presently recovering his recollection to a certain degree, he
came limping to me, holding his hand to his right thigh. 'The first thing that
must now be done,' said I, 'is to free these horses from the traces; can you
undertake to do so?' 'I think I can,' said the man, looking at me somewhat stupidly.
'I will help,' said Belle, and without loss of time laid hold of one of the
traces. The man, after a short pause, also set to work, and in a few minutes
the horses were extricated. 'Now,' said I to the man, 'what is next to be
done?' 'I don't know,' said he; 'indeed I scarcely know anything; I have been
so frightened by this horrible storm, and so shaken by my fall.' 'I think,'
said I, 'that the storm is passing away, so cast your fears away too; and as
for your fall, you must bear it as lightly as you can. I will tie the horses
amongst those trees, and then we will all betake us to the hollow below.' 'And
what's to become of my chaise?' said the postilion, looking ruefully on the
fallen vehicle. 'Let us leave the chaise for the present,' said I; 'we can be
of no use to it.' 'I don't like to leave my chaise lying on the ground in this
weather,' said the man; 'I love my chaise and him whom it belongs to.' 'You are
quite right to be fond of yourself,' said I, 'on which account I advise you to
seek shelter from the rain as soon as possible.' 'I was not talking of myself,'
said the man, 'but my master, to whom the chaise belongs.' 'I thought you
called the chaise yours,' said I. 'That's my way of speaking,' said the man;
'but the chaise is my master's, and a better master does not live. Don't you
think we could manage to raise up the chaise?' 'And what is to become of the
horses?' said I. 'I love my horses well enough,' said the man; 'but they will
take less harm than the chaise. We two can never lift up that chaise.' 'But we
three can,' said Belle; 'at least, I think so; and I know where to find two
poles which will assist us.' 'You had better go to the tent,' said I, 'you will
be wet through.' 'I care not for a little wetting,' said Belle; 'moreover, I have
more gowns than one—see you after the horses.' Thereupon, I led the horses past
the mouth of the dingle, to a place where a gap in the hedge afforded admission
to the copse or plantation on the southern side. Forcing them through the gap,
I led them to a spot amidst the trees which I deemed would afford them the most
convenient place for standing; then, darting down into the dingle, I brought up
a rope, and also the halter of my own nag, and with these fastened them each to
a separate tree in the best manner I could. This done, I returned to the chaise
and the postilion. In a minute or two Belle arrived with two poles, which, it
seems, had long been lying, overgrown with brushwood, in a ditch or hollow
behind the plantation. With these both she and I set to work in endeavouring to
raise the fallen chaise from the ground.
We experienced considerable difficulty in this
undertaking; at length, with the assistance of the postilion, we saw our
efforts crowned with success—the chaise was lifted up, and stood upright on
three wheels.
'We may leave it here in safety,' said I, 'for it
will hardly move away on three wheels, even supposing it could run by itself; I
am afraid there is work here for a wheelwright, in which case I cannot assist
you; if you were in need of a blacksmith it would be otherwise.' 'I don't think
either the wheel or the axle is hurt,' said the postilion, who had been
handling both; 'it is only the linch-pin having dropped out that caused the
wheel to fly off; if I could but find the linch-pin!—though, perhaps, it fell
out a mile away.' 'Very likely,' said I; 'but never mind the linch-pin, I can
make you one, or something that will serve: but I can't stay here any longer, I
am going to my place below with this young gentlewoman, and you had better
follow us.' 'I am ready,' said the man; and after lifting up the wheel and
propping it against the chaise, he went with us, slightly limping, and with his
hand pressed to his thigh.
As we were descending the narrow path, Belle
leading the way, and myself the last of the party, the postilion suddenly
stopped short, and looked about him. 'Why do you stop?' said I. 'I don't wish
to offend you,' said the man, 'but this seems to be a strange place you are
leading me into; I hope you and the young gentlewoman, as you call her, don't
mean me any harm—you seemed in a great hurry to bring me here.' 'We wished to
get you out of the rain,' said I, 'and ourselves too; that is, if we can, which
I rather doubt, for the canvas of a tent is slight shelter in such a rain; but
what harm should we wish to do you?' 'You may think I have money,' said the
man, 'and I have some, but only thirty shillings, and for a sum like that it
would be hardly worth while to—' 'Would it not?' said I; 'thirty shillings,
after all, are thirty shillings, and for what I know, half a dozen throats may
have been cut in this place for that sum at the rate of five shillings each;
moreover, there are the horses, which would serve to establish this young
gentlewoman and myself in housekeeping, provided we were thinking of such a
thing.' 'Then I suppose I have fallen into pretty hands,' said the man, putting
himself in a posture of defence; 'but I'll show no craven heart; and if you
attempt to lay hands on me, I'll try to pay you in your own coin. I'm rather
lamed in the leg, but I can still use my fists; so come on, both of you, man
and woman, if woman this be, though she looks more like a grenadier.'
'Let me hear no more of this nonsense,' said
Belle; 'if you are afraid, you can go back to your chaise—we only seek to do
you a kindness.'
'Why, he was just now talking of cutting throats,'
said the man. 'You brought it on yourself,' said Belle; 'you suspected us, and
he wished to pass a joke upon you; he would not hurt a hair of your head, were
your coach laden with gold, nor would I.' 'Well,' said the man, 'I was
wrong—here's my hand to both of you,' shaking us by the hands; 'I'll go with
you where you please, but I thought this a strange lonesome place, though I
ought not much to mind strange lonesome places, having been in plenty of such
when I was a servant in Italy, without coming to any harm—come, let us move on,
for 'tis a shame to keep you two in the rain.'
So we descended the path which led into the depths
of the dingle; at the bottom I conducted the postilion to my tent, which,
though the rain dripped and trickled through it, afforded some shelter; there I
bade him sit down on the log of wood, whilst I placed myself as usual on my
stone. Belle in the meantime had repaired to her own place of abode. After a
little time, I produced a bottle of the cordial of which I have previously had
occasion to speak, and made my guest take a considerable draught. I then
offered him some bread and cheese, which he accepted with thanks. In about an
hour the rain had much abated: 'What do you now propose to do?' said I. 'I
scarcely know,' said the man; 'I suppose I must endeavour to put on the wheel
with your help.' 'How far are you from your home?' I demanded. 'Upwards of
thirty miles,' said the man; 'my master keeps an inn on the great north road,
and from thence I started early this morning with a family, which I conveyed
across the country to a hall at some distance from here. On my return I was
beset by the thunder-storm, which frightened the horses, who dragged the chaise
off the road to the field above, and overset it as you saw. I had proposed to
pass the night at an inn about twelve miles from here on my way back, though
how I am to get there to-night I scarcely know, even if we can put on the
wheel, for, to tell you the truth, I am shaken by my fall, and the smoulder and
smoke of that fireball have rather bewildered my head; I am, moreover, not much
acquainted with the way.'
'The best thing you can do,' said I, 'is to pass
the night here; I will presently light a fire, and endeavour to make you
comfortable—in the morning we will see to your wheel.' 'Well,' said the man, 'I
shall be glad to pass the night here, provided I do not intrude, but I must see
to the horses.' Thereupon I conducted the man to the place where the horses
were tied. 'The trees drip very much upon them,' said the man, 'and it will not
do for them to remain here all night; they will be better out on the field
picking the grass; but first of all they must have a good feed of corn.'
Thereupon he went to his chaise, from which he presently brought two small
bags, partly filled with corn—into them he inserted the mouths of the horses,
tying them over their heads. 'Here we will leave them for a time,' said the
man; 'when I think they have had enough, I will come back, tie their fore-legs,
and let them pick about.'