The Romany Rye

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Transcribed from the 1907 J. M. Dent Edition by David Price, email
ccx074@coventry.ac.uk

THE ROMANY RYE

CHAPTER I

The Making of the Linch-pin--The Sound Sleeper--Breakfast--The
Postillion's Departure.

I awoke at the first break of day, and, leaving the postillion fast
asleep, stepped out of the tent. The dingle was dank and dripping.
I lighted a fire of coals, and got my forge in readiness. I then
ascended to the field, where the chaise was standing as we had left
it on the previous evening. After looking at the cloud-stone near
it, now cold, and split into three pieces, I set about prying
narrowly into the condition of the wheel and axletree--the latter
had sustained no damage of any consequence, and the wheel, as far
as I was able to judge, was sound, being only slightly injured in
the box. The only thing requisite to set the chaise in a
travelling condition appeared to be a linch-pin, which I determined
to make. Going to the companion wheel, I took out the linch-pin,
which I carried down with me to the dingle, to serve as a model.

I found Belle by this time dressed, and seated near the forge:
with a slight nod to her like that which a person gives who happens
to see an acquaintance when his mind is occupied with important
business, I forthwith set about my work. Selecting a piece of iron
which I thought would serve my purpose, I placed it in the fire,
and plying the bellows in a furious manner, soon made it hot; then
seizing it with the tongs, I laid it on my anvil, and began to beat
it with my hammer, according to the rules of my art. The dingle
resounded with my strokes. Belle sat still, and occasionally
smiled, but suddenly started up, and retreated towards her
encampment, on a spark which I purposely sent in her direction
alighting on her knee. I found the making of a linch-pin no easy
matter; it was, however, less difficult than the fabrication of a
pony-shoe; my work, indeed, was much facilitated by my having
another pin to look at. In about three-quarters of an hour I had
succeeded tolerably well, and had produced a linch-pin which I
thought would serve. During all this time, notwithstanding the
noise which I was making, the postillion never showed his face.
His non-appearance at first alarmed me: I was afraid he might be
dead, but, on looking into the tent, I found him still buried in
the soundest sleep. "He must surely be descended from one of the
seven sleepers," said I, as I turned away, and resumed my work. My
work finished, I took a little oil, leather, and sand, and polished
the pin as well as I could; then, summoning Belle, we both went to
the chaise, where, with her assistance, I put on the wheel. The
linch-pin which I had made fitted its place very well, and having
replaced the other, I gazed at the chaise for some time with my
heart full of that satisfaction which results from the
consciousness of having achieved a great action; then, after
looking at Belle in the hope of obtaining a compliment from her
lips, which did not come, I returned to the dingle, without saying
a word, followed by her. Belle set about making preparations for
breakfast; and I taking the kettle, went and filled it at the
spring. Having hung it over the fire, I went to the tent in which
the postillion was still sleeping, and called upon him to arise.
He awoke with a start, and stared around him at first with the
utmost surprise, not unmixed, I could observe, with a certain
degree of fear. At last, looking in my face, he appeared to
recollect himself. "I had quite forgot," said he, as he got up,
"where I was, and all that happened yesterday. However, I remember
now the whole affair, thunder-storm, thunder-bolt, frightened
horses, and all your kindness. Come, I must see after my coach and
horses; I hope we shall be able to repair the damage." "The damage
is already quite repaired," said I, "as you will see, if you come
to the field above." "You don't say so," said the postillion,
coming out of the tent; "well, I am mightily beholden to you. Good
morning, young gentle-woman," said he, addressing Belle, who,
having finished her preparations, was seated near the fire. "Good
morning, young man," said Belle, "I suppose you would be glad of
some breakfast; however, you must wait a little, the kettle does
not boil." "Come and look at your chaise," said I; "but tell me
how it happened that the noise which I have been making did not
awake you; for three-quarters of an hour at least I was hammering
close at your ear." "I heard you all the time," said the
postillion, "but your hammering made me sleep all the sounder; I am
used to hear hammering in my morning sleep. There's a forge close
by the room where I sleep when I'm at home, at my inn; for we have
all kinds of conveniences at my inn--forge, carpenter's shop, and
wheel-wright's,--so that when I heard you hammering I thought, no
doubt, that it was the old noise, and that I was comfortable in my
bed at my own inn." We now ascended to the field, where I showed
the postillion his chaise. He looked at the pin attentively,
rubbed his hands, and gave a loud laugh. "Is it not well done?"
said I. "It will do till I get home," he replied. "And that is
all you have to say?" I demanded. "And that's a good deal," said
he, "considering who made it. But don't be offended," he added, "I
shall prize it all the more for its being made by a gentleman, and
no blacksmith; and so will my governor, when I show it to him. I
shan't let it remain where it is, but will keep it, as a
remembrance of you, as long as I live." He then again rubbed his
hands with great glee, and said, "I will now go and see after my
horses, and then to breakfast, partner, if you please." Suddenly,
however, looking at his hands, he said, "Before sitting down to
breakfast I am in the habit of washing my hands and face: I
suppose you could not furnish me with a little soap and water."
"As much water as you please," said I, "but if you want soap, I
must go and trouble the young gentle-woman for some." "By no
means," said the postillion, "water will do at a pinch." "Follow
me," said I, and leading him to the pond of the frogs and newts, I
said, "this is my ewer; you are welcome to part of it--the water is
so soft that it is scarcely necessary to add soap to it;" then
lying down on the bank, I plunged my head into the water, then
scrubbed my hands and face, and afterwards wiped them with some
long grass which grew on the margin of the pond. "Bravo," said the
postillion, "I see you know how to make a shift:" he then followed
my example, declared he never felt more refreshed in his life, and,
giving a bound, said, "he would go and look after his horses."

We then went to look after the horses, which we found not much the
worse for having spent the night in the open air. My companion
again inserted their heads in the corn-bags, and, leaving the
animals to discuss their corn, returned with me to the dingle,
where we found the kettle boiling. We sat down, and Belle made tea
and did the honours of the meal. The postillion was in high
spirits, ate heartily, and, to Belle's evident satisfaction,
declared that he had never drank better tea in his life, or indeed
any half so good. Breakfast over, he said that he must now go and
harness his horses, as it was high time for him to return to his
inn. Belle gave him her hand and wished him farewell: the
postillion shook her hand warmly, and was advancing close up to
her--for what purpose I cannot say--whereupon Belle, withdrawing
her hand, drew herself up with an air which caused the postillion
to retreat a step or two with an exceedingly sheepish look.
Recovering himself, however, he made a low bow, and proceeded up
the path. I attended him, and helped to harness his horses and put
them to the vehicle; he then shook me by the hand, and taking the
reins and whip, mounted to his seat; ere he drove away he thus
addressed me: "If ever I forget your kindness and that of the
young woman below, dash my buttons. If ever either of you should
enter my inn you may depend upon a warm welcome, the best that can
be set before you, and no expense to either, for I will give both
of you the best of characters to the governor, who is the very best
fellow upon all the road. As for your linch-pin, I trust it will
serve till I get home, when I will take it out and keep it in
remembrance of you all the days of my life:" then giving the horses
a jerk with his reins, he cracked his whip and drove off.

I returned to the dingle, Belle had removed the breakfast things,
and was busy in her own encampment: nothing occurred, worthy of
being related, for two hours, at the end of which time Belle
departed on a short expedition, and I again found myself alone in
the dingle.

CHAPTER II

The Man in Black--The Emperor of Germany--Nepotism--Donna Olympia--
Omnipotence--Camillo Astalli--The Five Propositions.

In the evening I received another visit from the man in black. I
had been taking a stroll in the neighbourhood, and was sitting in
the dingle in rather a listless manner, scarcely knowing how to
employ myself; his coming, therefore, was by no means disagreeable
to me. I produced the hollands and glass from my tent, where
Isopel Berners had requested me to deposit them, and also some lump
sugar, then taking the gotch I fetched water from the spring, and,
sitting down, begged the man in black to help himself; he was not
slow in complying with my desire, and prepared for himself a glass
of hollands and water with a lump of sugar in it. After he had
taken two or three sips with evident satisfaction, I, remembering
his chuckling exclamation of "Go to Rome for money," when he last
left the dingle, took the liberty, after a little conversation, of
reminding him of it, whereupon, with a he! he! he! he replied,
"Your idea was not quite so original as I supposed. After leaving
you the other night, I remembered having read of an Emperor of
Germany who conceived the idea of applying to Rome for money, and
actually put it into practice.

"Urban the Eighth then occupied the papal chair, of the family of
the Barbarini, nicknamed the Mosche, or Flies, from the
circumstance of bees being their armorial bearing. The Emperor
having exhausted all his money in endeavouring to defend the church
against Gustavus Adolphus, the great King of Sweden, who was bent
on its destruction, applied in his necessity to the Pope for a loan
of money. The Pope, however, and his relations, whose cellars were
at that time full of the money of the church, which they had been
plundering for years, refused to lend him a scudo; whereupon a
pasquinade picture was stuck up at Rome, representing the church
lying on a bed, gashed with dreadful wounds, and beset all over
with flies, which were sucking her, whilst the Emperor of Germany
was kneeling before her with a miserable face, requesting a little
money towards carrying on the war against the heretics, to which
the poor church was made to say: 'How can I assist you, O my
champion, do you not see that the flies have sucked me to the very
bones?' Which story," said he, "shows that the idea of going to
Rome for money was not quite so original as I imagined the other
night, though utterly preposterous.

"This affair," said he, "occurred in what were called the days of
nepotism. Certain popes, who wished to make themselves in some
degree independent of the cardinals, surrounded themselves with
their nephews and the rest of their family, who sucked the church
and Christendom as much as they could, none doing so more
effectually than the relations of Urban the Eighth, at whose death,
according to the book called the 'Nipotismo di Roma,' there were in
the Barbarini family two hundred and twenty-seven governments,
abbeys and high dignities; and so much hard cash in their
possession, that threescore and ten mules were scarcely sufficient
to convey the plunder of one of them to Palestrina." He added,
however, that it was probable that Christendom fared better whilst
the popes were thus independent, as it was less sucked, whereas
before and after that period it was sucked by hundreds instead of
tens, by the cardinals and all their relations, instead of by the
pope and his nephews only.

Then, after drinking rather copiously of his hollands, he said that
it was certainly no bad idea of the popes to surround themselves
with nephews, on whom they bestowed great church dignities, as by
so doing they were tolerably safe from poison, whereas a pope, if
abandoned to the cardinals, might at any time be made away with by
them, provided they thought that he lived too long, or that he
seemed disposed to do anything which they disliked; adding, that
Ganganelli would never have been poisoned provided he had had
nephews about him to take care of his life, and to see that nothing
unholy was put into his food, or a bustling stirring brother's wife
like Donna Olympia. He then with a he! he! he! asked me if I had
ever read the book called the "Nipotismo di Roma"; and on my
replying in the negative, he told me that it was a very curious and
entertaining book, which he occasionally looked at in an idle hour,
and proceeded to relate to me anecdotes out of the "Nipotismo di
Roma," about the successor of Urban, Innocent the Tenth, and Donna
Olympia, showing how fond he was of her, and how she cooked his
food, and kept the cardinals away from it, and how she and her
creatures plundered Christendom, with the sanction of the Pope,
until Christendom, becoming enraged, insisted that he should put
her away, which he did for a time, putting a nephew--one Camillo
Astalli--in her place, in which, however, he did not continue long;
for the Pope, conceiving a pique against him, banished him from his
sight, and recalled Donna Olympia, who took care of his food, and
plundered Christendom until Pope Innocent died.

I said that I only wondered that between pope and cardinals the
whole system of Rome had not long fallen to the ground, and was
told, in reply, that its not having fallen was the strongest proof
of its vital power, and the absolute necessity for the existence of
the system. That the system, notwithstanding its occasional
disorders, went on. Popes and cardinals might prey upon its
bowels, and sell its interests, but the system survived. The
cutting off of this or that member was not able to cause Rome any
vital loss; for, as soon as she lost a member, the loss was
supplied by her own inherent vitality; though her popes had been
poisoned by cardinals, and her cardinals by popes; and though
priests occasionally poisoned popes, cardinals, and each other,
after all that had been, and might be, she had still, and would
ever have, her priests, cardinals, and pope.

Finding the man in black so communicative and reasonable, I
determined to make the best of my opportunity, and learn from him
all I could with respect to the papal system, and told him that he
would particularly oblige me by telling me who the Pope of Rome
was; and received for answer, that he was an old man elected by a
majority of cardinals to the papal chair; who, immediately after
his election, became omnipotent and equal to God on earth. On my
begging him not to talk such nonsense, and asking him how a person
could be omnipotent who could not always preserve himself from
poison, even when fenced round by nephews, or protected by a
bustling woman, he, after taking a long sip of hollands and water,
told me that I must not expect too much from omnipotence; for
example, that as it would be unreasonable to expect that One above
could annihilate the past--for instance, the Seven Years' War, or
the French Revolution--though any one who believed in Him would
acknowledge Him to be omnipotent, so would it be unreasonable for
the faithful to expect that the Pope could always guard himself
from poison. Then, after looking at me for a moment stedfastly,
and taking another sip, he told me that popes had frequently done
impossibilities; for example, Innocent the Tenth had created a
nephew; for, not liking particularly any of his real nephews, he
had created the said Camillo Astalli his nephew; asking me, with a
he! he! "What but omnipotence could make a young man nephew to a
person to whom he was not in the slightest degree related?" On my
observing that of course no one believed that the young fellow was
really the Pope's nephew, though the Pope might have adopted him as
such, the man in black replied, "that the reality of the nephewship
of Camillo Astalli had hitherto never become a point of faith; let,
however, the present pope, or any other pope, proclaim that it is
necessary to believe in the reality of the nephewship of Camillo
Astalli, and see whether the faithful would not believe in it. Who
can doubt that," he added, "seeing that they believe in the reality
of the five propositions of Jansenius? The Jesuits, wishing to
ruin the Jansenists, induced a pope to declare that such and such
damnable opinions, which they called five propositions, were to be
found in a book written by Jansen, though, in reality, no such
propositions were to be found there; whereupon the existence of
these propositions became forthwith a point of faith to the
faithful. Do you then think," he demanded, "that there is one of
the faithful who would not swallow, if called upon, the nephewship
of Camillo Astalli as easily as the five propositions of
Jansenius?" "Surely, then," said I, "the faithful must be a pretty
pack of simpletons!" Whereupon the man in black exclaimed, "What!
a Protestant, and an infringer of the rights of faith! Here's a
fellow, who would feel himself insulted if any one were to ask him
how he could believe in the miraculous conception, calling people
simpletons who swallow the five propositions of Jansenius, and are
disposed, if called upon, to swallow the reality of the nephewship
of Camillo Astalli."

I was about to speak, when I was interrupted by the arrival of
Belle. After unharnessing her donkey, and adjusting her person a
little, she came and sat down by us. In the meantime I had helped
my companion to some more hollands and water, and had plunged with
him into yet deeper discourse.

CHAPTER III

Necessity of Religion--The Great Indian One--Image-worship--
Shakespeare--The Pat Answer--Krishna--Amen.

Having told the man in black that I should like to know all the
truth with regard to the Pope and his system, he assured me he
should be delighted to give me all the information in his power;
that he had come to the dingle, not so much for the sake of the
good cheer which I was in the habit of giving him, as in the hope
of inducing me to enlist under the banners of Rome, and to fight in
her cause; and that he had no doubt that, by speaking out frankly
to me, he ran the best chance of winning me over.

He then proceeded to tell me that the experience of countless ages
had proved the necessity of religion; the necessity, he would
admit, was only for simpletons; but as nine-tenths of the dwellers
upon this earth were simpletons, it would never do for sensible
people to run counter to their folly, but, on the contrary, it was
their wisest course to encourage them in it, always provided that,
by so doing, sensible people would derive advantage; that the truly
sensible people of this world were the priests, who, without caring
a straw for religion for its own sake, made use of it as a cord by
which to draw the simpletons after them; that there were many
religions in this world, all of which had been turned to excellent
account by the priesthood; but that the one the best adapted for
the purposes of priestcraft was the popish, which, he said, was the
oldest in the world and the best calculated to endure. On my
inquiring what he meant by saying the popish religion was the
oldest in the world, whereas there could be no doubt that the Greek
and Roman religion had existed long before it, to say nothing of
the old Indian religion still in existence and vigour; he said,
with a nod, after taking a sip at his glass, that, between me and
him, the popish religion, that of Greece and Rome, and the old
Indian system were, in reality, one and the same.

"You told me that you intended to be frank," said I; "but, however
frank you may be, I think you are rather wild."

"We priests of Rome," said the man in black, "even those amongst us
who do not go much abroad, know a great deal about church matters,
of which you heretics have very little idea. Those of our brethren
of the Propaganda, on their return home from distant missions, not
unfrequently tell us very strange things relating to our dear
mother; for example, our first missionaries to the East were not
slow in discovering and telling to their brethren that our religion
and the great Indian one were identical, no more difference between
them than between Ram and Rome. Priests, convents, beads, prayers,
processions, fastings, penances, all the same, not forgetting
anchorites and vermin, he! he! The pope they found under the title
of the grand lama, a sucking child surrounded by an immense number
of priests. Our good brethren, some two hundred years ago, had a
hearty laugh, which their successors have often re-echoed; they
said that helpless suckling and its priests put them so much in
mind of their own old man, surrounded by his cardinals, he! he!
Old age is second childhood."

"Did they find Christ?" said I.

"They found him too," said the man in black, "that is, they saw his
image; he is considered in India as a pure kind of being, and on
that account, perhaps, is kept there rather in the background, even
as he is here."

"All this is very mysterious to me," said I.

"Very likely," said the man in black; "but of this I am tolerably
sure, and so are most of those of Rome, that modern Rome had its
religion from ancient Rome, which had its religion from the East."

"But how?" I demanded.

"It was brought about, I believe, by the wanderings of nations,"
said the man in black. "A brother of the Propaganda, a very
learned man, once told me--I do not mean Mezzofanti, who has not
five ideas--this brother once told me that all we of the Old World,
from Calcutta to Dublin, are of the same stock, and were originally
of the same language, and--"

"All of one religion," I put in.

"All of one religion," said the man in black; "and now follow
different modifications of the same religion."

"We Christians are not image-worshippers," said I.

"You heretics are not, you mean," said the man in black; "but you
will be put down, just as you have always been, though others may
rise up after you; the true religion is image-worship; people may
strive against it, but they will only work themselves to an oil;
how did it fare with that Greek Emperor, the Iconoclast, what was
his name, Leon the Isaurian? Did not his image-breaking cost him
Italy, the fairest province of his empire, and did not ten fresh
images start up at home for every one which he demolished? Oh! you
little know the craving which the soul sometimes feels after a good
bodily image."

"I have indeed no conception of it," said I; "I have an abhorrence
of idolatry--the idea of bowing before a graven figure!"

"The idea, indeed!" said Belle, who had now joined us.

"Did you never bow before that of Shakespeare?" said the man in
black, addressing himself to me, after a low bow to Belle.

"I don't remember that I ever did," said I, "but even suppose I
did?"

"Suppose you did," said the man in black; "shame on you, Mr. Hater
of Idolatry; why, the very supposition brings you to the ground;
you must make figures of Shakespeare, must you? then why not of St.
Antonio, or Ignacio, or of a greater personage still! I know what
you are going to say," he cried, interrupting me, as I was about to
speak. "You don't make his image in order to pay it divine
honours, but only to look at it, and think of Shakespeare; but this
looking at a thing in order to think of a person is the very basis
of idolatry. Shakespeare's works are not sufficient for you; no
more are the Bible or the legend of Saint Anthony or Saint Ignacio
for us, that is for those of us who believe in them; I tell you,
Zingara, that no religion can exist long which rejects a good
bodily image."

"Do you think," said I, "that Shakespeare's works would not exist
without his image?"

"I believe," said the man in black, "that Shakespeare's image is
looked at more than his works, and will be looked at, and perhaps
adored, when they are forgotten. I am surprised that they have not
been forgotten long ago; I am no admirer of them."

"But I can't imagine," said I, "how you will put aside the
authority of Moses. If Moses strove against image-worship, should
not his doing so be conclusive as to the impropriety of the
practice: what higher authority can you have than that of Moses?"

"The practice of the great majority of the human race," said the
man in black, "and the recurrence to image-worship where image-
worship has been abolished. Do you know that Moses is considered
by the church as no better than a heretic, and though, for
particular reasons, it has been obliged to adopt his writings, the
adoption was merely a sham one, as it never paid the slightest
attention to them? No, no, the church was never led by Moses, nor
by one mightier than he, whose doctrine it has equally nullified--I
allude to Krishna in his second avatar; the church, it is true,
governs in his name, but not unfrequently gives him the lie, if he
happens to have said anything which it dislikes. Did you never
hear the reply which Padre Paolo Segani made to the French
Protestant Jean Anthoine Guerin, who had asked him whether it was
easier for Christ to have been mistaken in his Gospel, than for the
Pope to be mistaken in his decrees?"

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