The Romany Rye

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"I never heard their names before," said I.

"The answer was pat," said the man in black, "though he who made it
was confessedly the most ignorant fellow of the very ignorant order
to which he belonged, the Augustine. 'Christ might err as a man,'
said he, 'but the Pope can never err, being God.' The whole story
is related in the Nipotismo."

"I wonder you should ever have troubled yourself with Christ at
all," said I.

"What was to be done?" said the man in black; "the power of that
name suddenly came over Europe, like the power of a mighty wind; it
was said to have come from Judea, and from Judea it probably came
when it first began to agitate minds in these parts; but it seems
to have been known in the remote East, more or less, for thousands
of years previously. It filled people's minds with madness; it was
followed by books which were never much regarded, as they contained
little of insanity; but the name! what fury that breathed into
people! the books were about peace and gentleness, but the name was
the most horrible of war-cries--those who wished to uphold old
names at first strove to oppose it, but their efforts were feeble,
and they had no good war-cry; what was Mars as a war-cry compared
with the name of . . . ? It was said that they persecuted
terribly, but who said so? The Christians. The Christians could
have given them a lesson in the art of persecution, and eventually
did so. None but Christians have ever been good persecutors; well,
the old religion succumbed, Christianity prevailed, for the
ferocious is sure to prevail over the gentle."

"I thought," said I, "you stated a little time ago that the Popish
religion and the ancient Roman are the same?"

"In every point but that name, that Krishna and the fury and love
of persecution which it inspired," said the man in black. "A hot
blast came from the East, sounding Krishna; it absolutely maddened
people's minds, and the people would call themselves his children;
we will not belong to Jupiter any longer, we will belong to
Krishna, and they did belong to Krishna; that is in name, but in
nothing else; for who ever cared for Krishna in the Christian
world, or who ever regarded the words attributed to him, or put
them in practice?"

"Why, we Protestants regard his words, and endeavour to practise
what they enjoin as much as possible."

"But you reject his image," sad the man in black; "better reject
his words than his image: no religion can exist long which rejects
a good bodily image. Why, the very negro barbarians of High
Barbary could give you a lesson on that point; they have their
fetish images, to which they look for help in their afflictions;
they have likewise a high priest, whom they call--"

"Mumbo Jumbo," said I; "I know all about him already."

"How came you to know anything about him?" said the man in black,
with a look of some surprise.

"Some of us poor Protestants tinkers," said I, "though we live in
dingles, are also acquainted with a thing or two."

"I really believe you are," said the man in black, staring at me;
"but, in connection with this Mumbo Jumbo, I could relate to you a
comical story about a fellow, an English servant, I once met at
Rome."

"It would be quite unnecessary," said I; "I would much sooner hear
you talk about Krishna, his words and image."

"Spoken like a true heretic," said the man in black; "one of the
faithful would have placed his image before his words; for what are
all the words in the world compared with a good bodily image!"

"I believe you occasionally quote his words?" said I.

"He! he!" said the man in black; "occasionally."

"For example," said I, "upon this rock I will found my church."

"He! he!" said the man in black; "you must really become one of
us."

"Yet you must have had some difficulty in getting the rock to
Rome?"

"None whatever," said the man in black; "faith can remove
mountains, to say nothing of rocks--ho! ho!"

"But I cannot imagine," said I, "what advantage you could derive
from perverting those words of Scripture in which the Saviour talks
about eating his body."

"I do not know, indeed, why we troubled our heads about the matter
at all," said the man in black; "but when you talk about perverting
the meaning of the text, you speak ignorantly, Mr. Tinker; when he
whom you call the Saviour gave his followers the sop, and bade them
eat it, telling them it was his body, he delicately alluded to what
it was incumbent upon them to do after his death, namely, to eat
his body."

"You do not mean to say that he intended they should actually eat
his body?"

"Then you suppose ignorantly," said the man in black; "eating the
bodies of the dead was a heathenish custom, practised by the heirs
and legatees of people who left property; and this custom is
alluded to in the text."

"But what has the New Testament to do with heathen customs," said
I, "except to destroy them?"

"More than you suppose," said the man in black. "We priests of
Rome, who have long lived at Rome, know much better what the New
Testament is made of than the heretics and their theologians, not
forgetting their Tinkers; though I confess some of the latter have
occasionally surprised us--for example, Bunyan. The New Testament
is crowded with allusions to heathen customs, and with words
connected with pagan sorcery. Now, with respect to words, I would
fain have you, who pretend to be a philologist, tell me the meaning
of Amen."

I made no answer.

"We of Rome," said the man in black, "know two or three things of
which the heretics are quite ignorant; for example, there are those
amongst us--those, too, who do not pretend to be philologists--who
know what Amen is, and, moreover, how we got it. We got it from
our ancestors, the priests of ancient Rome; and they got the word
from their ancestors of the East, the priests of Buddh and Brahma."

"And what is the meaning of the word?" I demanded.

"Amen," said the man in black, "is a modification of the old Hindoo
formula, Omani batsikhom, by the almost ceaseless repetition of
which the Indians hope to be received finally to the rest or state
of forgetfulness of Buddh or Brahma; a foolish practice you will
say, but are you heretics much wiser, who are continually sticking
Amen to the end of your prayers, little knowing when you do so,
that you are consigning yourselves to the repose of Buddh! Oh,
what hearty laughs our missionaries have had when comparing the
eternally-sounding Eastern gibberish of Omani batsikhom, Omani
batsikhom, and the Ave Maria and Amen Jesus of our own idiotical
devotees."

"I have nothing to say about the Ave Marias and Amens of your
superstitious devotees," said I; "I dare say that they use them
nonsensically enough, but in putting Amen to the end of a prayer,
we merely intend to express, 'So let it be.'"

"It means nothing of the kind," said the man in black; "and the
Hindoos might just as well put your national oath at the end of
their prayers, as perhaps they will after a great many thousand
years, when English is forgotten, and only a few words of it
remembered by dim tradition without being understood. How strange
if, after the lapse of four thousand years, the Hindoos should damn
themselves to the blindness so dear to their present masters, even
as their masters at present consign themselves to the forgetfulness
so dear to the Hindoos; but my glass has been empty for a
considerable time; perhaps, Bellissima Biondina," said he,
addressing Belle, "you will deign to replenish it?"

"I shall do no such thing," said Belle, "you have drunk quite
enough, and talked more than enough, and to tell you the truth I
wish you would leave us alone."

"Shame on you, Belle," said I; "consider the obligations of
hospitality."

"I am sick of that word," said Belle, "you are so frequently
misusing it; were this place not Mumpers' Dingle, and consequently
as free to the fellow as ourselves, I would lead him out of it."

"Pray be quiet, Belle," said I. "You had better help yourself,"
said I, addressing myself to the man in black, "the lady is angry
with you."

"I am sorry for it," said the man in black; "if she is angry with
me, I am not so with her, and shall be always proud to wait upon
her; in the meantime, I will wait upon myself."

CHAPTER IV

The Proposal--The Scotch Novel--Latitude--Miracles--Pestilent
Heretics--Old Fraser--Wonderful Texts--No Armenian.

The man in black having helped himself to some more of his
favourite beverage, and tasted it, I thus addressed him: "The
evening is getting rather advanced, and I can see that this lady,"
pointing to Belle, "is anxious for her tea, which she prefers to
take cosily and comfortably with me in the dingle: the place, it
is true, is as free to you as to ourselves, nevertheless, as we are
located here by necessity, whilst you merely come as a visitor, I
must take the liberty of telling you that we shall be glad to be
alone, as soon as you have said what you have to say, and have
finished the glass of refreshment at present in your hand. I think
you said some time ago that one of your motives for coming hither
was to induce me to enlist under the banner of Rome. I wish to
know whether that was really the case?"

"Decidedly so," said the man in black; "I come here principally in
the hope of enlisting you in our regiment, in which I have no doubt
you could do us excellent service."

"Would you enlist my companion as well?" I demanded.

"We should be only too proud to have her among us, whether she
comes with you or alone," said the man in black, with a polite bow
to Belle.

"Before we give you an answer," I replied, "I would fain know more
about you; perhaps you will declare your name?"

"That I will never do," said the man in black; "no one in England
knows it but myself, and I will not declare it, even in a dingle;
as for the rest, Sono un Prete Cattolico Appostolico--that is all
that many a one of us can say for himself, and it assuredly means a
great deal."

"We will now proceed to business," said I. "You must be aware that
we English are generally considered a self-interested people."

"And with considerable justice," said the man in black, drinking.
"Well, you are a person of acute perception, and I will presently
make it evident to you that it would be to your interest to join
with us. You are at present, evidently, in very needy
circumstances, and are lost, not only to yourself, but to the
world; but should you enlist with us, I could find you an
occupation not only agreeable, but one in which your talents would
have free scope. I would introduce you in the various grand houses
here in England, to which I have myself admission, as a surprising
young gentleman of infinite learning, who by dint of study has
discovered that the Roman is the only true faith. I tell you
confidently that our popish females would make a saint, nay, a God
of you; they are fools enough for anything. There is one person in
particular with whom I would wish to make you acquainted, in the
hope that you would be able to help me to perform good service to
the holy see. He is a gouty old fellow, of some learning, residing
in an old hall, near the great western seaport, and is one of the
very few amongst the English Catholics possessing a grain of sense.
I think you could help us to govern him, for he is not unfrequently
disposed to be restive, asks us strange questions--occasionally
threatens us with his crutch; and behaves so that we are often
afraid that we shall lose him, or, rather, his property, which he
has bequeathed to us, and which is enormous. I am sure that you
could help us to deal with him; sometimes with your humour,
sometimes with your learning, and perhaps occasionally with your
fists."

"And in what manner would you provide for my companion?" said I.

"We would place her at once," said the man in black, "in the house
of two highly respectable Catholic ladies in this neighbourhood,
where she would be treated with every care and consideration till
her conversion should be accomplished in a regular manner; we would
then remove her to a female monastic establishment, where, after
undergoing a year's probation, during which time she would be
instructed in every elegant accomplishment, she should take the
veil. Her advancement would speedily follow, for, with such a face
and figure, she would make a capital lady abbess, especially in
Italy, to which country she would probably be sent; ladies of her
hair and complexion--to say nothing of her height--being a
curiosity in the south. With a little care and management she
could soon obtain a vast reputation for sanctity; and who knows but
after her death she might become a glorified saint--he! he! Sister
Maria Theresa, for that is the name I propose you should bear.
Holy Mother Maria Theresa--glorified and celestial saint, I have
the honour of drinking to your health," and the man in black drank.

"Well, Belle," said I, "what have you to say to the gentleman's
proposal?"

"That if he goes on in this way I will break his glass against his
mouth."

"You have heard the lady's answer," said I.

"I have," said the man in black, "and shall not press the matter.
I can't help, however, repeating that she would make a capital lady
abbess; she would keep the nuns in order, I warrant her; no easy
matter! Break the glass against my mouth--he! he! How she would
send the holy utensils flying at the nuns' heads occasionally, and
just the person to wring the nose of Satan, should he venture to
appear one night in her cell in the shape of a handsome black man.
No offence, madam, no offence, pray retain your seat," said he,
observing that Belle had started up; "I mean no offence. Well, if
you will not consent to be an abbess, perhaps you will consent to
follow this young Zingaro, and to co-operate with him and us. I am
a priest, madam, and can join you both in an instant, connubio
stabili, as I suppose the knot has not been tied already."

"Hold your mumping gibberish," said Belle, "and leave the dingle
this moment, for though 'tis free to every one, you have no right
to insult me in it."

"Pray be pacified," said I to Belle, getting up, and placing myself
between her and the man in black, "he will presently leave, take my
word for it--there, sit down again," said I, as I led her to her
seat; then, resuming my own, I said to the man in black: "I advise
you to leave the dingle as soon as possible."

"I should wish to have your answer to my proposal first," said he.

"Well, then, here you shall have it: I will not entertain your
proposal; I detest your schemes: they are both wicked and
foolish."

"Wicked," said the man in black, "have they not--he! he!--the
furtherance of religion in view?"

"A religion," said I, "in which you yourself do not believe, and
which you contemn."

"Whether I believe in it or not," said the man in black, "it is
adapted for the generality of the human race; so I will forward it,
and advise you to do the same. It was nearly extirpated in these
regions, but it is springing up again, owing to circumstances.
Radicalism is a good friend to us; all the liberals laud up our
system out of hatred to the Established Church, though our system
is ten times less liberal than the Church of England. Some of them
have really come over to us. I myself confess a baronet who
presided over the first radical meeting ever held in England--he
was an atheist when he came over to us, in the hope of mortifying
his own church--but he is now--ho! ho!--a real Catholic devotee--
quite afraid of my threats; I make him frequently scourge himself
before me. Well, Radicalism does us good service, especially
amongst the lower classes, for Radicalism chiefly flourishes
amongst them; for though a baronet or two may be found amongst the
radicals, and perhaps as many lords--fellows who have been
discarded by their own order for clownishness, or something they
have done--it incontestably flourishes best among the lower orders.
Then the love of what is foreign is a great friend to us; this love
is chiefly confined to the middle and upper classes. Some admire
the French, and imitate them; others must needs be Spaniards, dress
themselves up in a zamarra, stick a cigar in their mouth, and say,
'Carajo.' Others would pass for Germans; he! he! the idea of any
one wishing to pass for a German! but what has done us more service
than anything else in these regions--I mean amidst the middle
classes--has been the novel, the Scotch novel. The good folks,
since they have read the novels, have become Jacobites; and,
because all the Jacobs were Papists, the good folks must become
Papists also, or, at least, papistically inclined. The very Scotch
Presbyterians, since they have read the novels, are become all but
Papists; I speak advisedly, having lately been amongst them.
There's a trumpery bit of a half papist sect, called the Scotch
Episcopalian Church, which lay dormant and nearly forgotten for
upwards of a hundred years, which has of late got wonderfully into
fashion in Scotland, because, forsooth, some of the long-haired
gentry of the novels were said to belong to it, such as Montrose
and Dundee; and to this the Presbyterians are going over in
throngs, traducing and vilifying their own forefathers, or denying
them altogether, and calling themselves descendants of--ho! ho!
ho!--Scottish Cavaliers!!! I have heard them myself repeating
snatches of Jacobite ditties about 'Bonnie Dundee,' and -

"'Come, fill up my cup, and fill up my can,
And saddle my horse, and call up my man.'

There's stuff for you! Not that I object to the first part of the
ditty. It is natural enough that a Scotchman should cry, 'Come,
fill up my cup!' more especially if he's drinking at another
person's expense--all Scotchmen being fond of liquor at free cost:
but 'Saddle his horse!!!'--for what purpose, I would ask? Where is
the use of saddling a horse, unless you can ride him? and where was
there ever a Scotchman who could ride?"

"Of course you have not a drop of Scotch blood in your veins," said
I, "otherwise you would never have uttered that last sentence."

"Don't be too sure of that," said the man in black; "you know
little of Popery if you imagine that it cannot extinguish love of
country, even in a Scotchman. A thorough-going Papist--and who
more thorough-going than myself?--cares nothing for his country;
and why should he? he belongs to a system, and not to a country."

"One thing," said I, "connected with you, I cannot understand; you
call yourself a thorough-going Papist, yet are continually saying
the most pungent things against Popery, and turning to unbounded
ridicule those who show any inclination to embrace it."

"Rome is a very sensible old body," said the man in black, "and
little cares what her children say, provided they do her bidding.
She knows several things, and amongst others, that no servants work
so hard and faithfully as those who curse their masters at every
stroke they do. She was not fool enough to be angry with the
Miquelets of Alba, who renounced her, and called her 'puta' all the
time they were cutting the throats of the Netherlanders. Now, if
she allowed her faithful soldiers the latitude of renouncing her,
and calling her 'puta' in the market-place, think not she is so
unreasonable as to object to her faithful priests occasionally
calling her 'puta' in the dingle."

"But," said I, "suppose some one were to tell the world some of the
disorderly things which her priests say in the dingle?"

"He would have the fate of Cassandra," said the man in black; "no
one would believe him--yes, the priests would: but they would make
no sign of belief. They believe in the Alcoran des Cordeliers--
that is, those who have read it; but they make no sign."

"A pretty system," said I, "which extinguishes love of country and
of everything noble, and brings the minds of its ministers to a
parity with those of devils, who delight in nothing but mischief."

"The system," said the man in black, "is a grand one, with
unbounded vitality. Compare it with your Protestantism, and you
will see the difference. Popery is ever at work, whilst
Protestantism is supine. A pretty church, indeed, the Protestant!
Why, it can't even work a miracle."

"Can your church work miracles?" I demanded.

"That was the very question," said the man in black, "which the
ancient British clergy asked of Austin Monk, after they had been
fools enough to acknowledge their own inability. 'We don't pretend
to work miracles; do you?' 'Oh! dear me, yes,' said Austin; 'we
find no difficulty in the matter. We can raise the dead, we can
make the blind see; and to convince you, I will give sight to the
blind. Here is this blind Saxon, whom you cannot cure, but on
whose eyes I will manifest my power, in order to show the
difference between the true and the false church;' and forthwith,
with the assistance of a handkerchief and a little hot water, he
opened the eyes of the barbarian. So we manage matters! A pretty
church, that old British church, which could not work miracles--
quite as helpless as the modern one. The fools! was birdlime so
scarce a thing amongst them?--and were the properties of warm water
so unknown to them, that they could not close a pair of eyes and
open them?"

"It's a pity," said I, "that the British clergy at that interview
with Austin, did not bring forward a blind Welshman, and ask the
monk to operate upon him."

"Clearly," said the man in black; "that's what they ought to have
done; but they were fools without a single resource." Here he took
a sip at his glass.

"But they did not believe in the miracle?" said I.

"And what did their not believing avail them?" said the man in
black. "Austin remained master of the field, and they went away
holding their heads down, and muttering to themselves. What a fine
subject for a painting would be Austin's opening the eyes of the
Saxon barbarian, and the discomfiture of the British clergy! I
wonder it has not been painted!--he! he!"

"I suppose your church still performs miracles occasionally!" said
I.

"It does," said the man in black. "The Rev.--has lately been
performing miracles in Ireland, destroying devils that had got
possession of people; he has been eminently successful. In two
instances he not only destroyed the devils, but the lives of the
people possessed--he! he! Oh! there is so much energy in our
system; we are always at work, whilst Protestantism is supine."

"You must not imagine," said I, "that all Protestants are supine;
some of them appear to be filled with unbounded zeal. They deal,
it is true, not in lying miracles, but they propagate God's Word.
I remember only a few months ago, having occasion for a Bible,
going to an establishment, the object of which was to send Bibles
all over the world. The supporters of that establishment could
have no self-interested views; for I was supplied by them with a
noble-sized Bible at a price so small as to preclude the idea that
it could bring any profit to the vendors."

The countenance of the man in black slightly fell. "I know the
people to whom you allude," said he; "indeed, unknown to them, I
have frequently been to see them, and observed their ways. I tell
you frankly that there is not a set of people in this kingdom who
have caused our church so much trouble and uneasiness. I should
rather say that they alone cause us any; for as for the rest, what
with their drowsiness, their plethora, their folly and their
vanity, they are doing us anything but mischief. These fellows are
a pestilent set of heretics, whom we would gladly see burnt; they
are, with the most untiring perseverance, and in spite of divers
minatory declarations of the holy father, scattering their books
abroad through all Europe, and have caused many people in Catholic
countries to think that hitherto their priesthood have endeavoured,
as much as possible, to keep them blinded. There is one fellow
amongst them for whom we entertain a particular aversion; a big,
burly parson, with the face of a lion, the voice of a buffalo, and
a fist like a sledge-hammer. The last time I was there, I observed
that his eye was upon me, and I did not like the glance he gave me
at all; I observed him clench his fist, and I took my departure as
fast as I conveniently could. Whether he suspected who I was, I
know not; but I did not like his look at all, and do not intend to
go again."

"Well, then," said I, "you confess that you have redoubtable
enemies to your plans in these regions, and that even amongst the
ecclesiastics there are some widely different from those of the
plethoric and Platitude schools?"

"It is but too true," said the man in black; "and if the rest of
your church were like them we should quickly bid adieu to all hope
of converting these regions, but we are thankful to be able to say
that such folks are not numerous; there are, moreover, causes at
work quite sufficient to undermine even their zeal. Their sons
return at the vacations, from Oxford and Cambridge, puppies, full
of the nonsense which they have imbibed from Platitude professors;
and this nonsense they retail at home, where it fails not to make
some impression, whilst the daughters scream--I beg their pardons--
warble about Scotland's Montrose and Bonny Dundee, and all the
Jacobs; so we have no doubt that their papas' zeal about the
propagation of such a vulgar book as the Bible will in a very
little time be terribly diminished. Old Rome will win, so you had
better join her."

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