The Romany Rye

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And the man in black drained the last drop in his glass.

"Never," said I, "will I become the slave of Rome."

"She will allow you latitude," said the man in black; "do but serve
her, and she will allow you to call her 'puta' at a decent time and
place, her popes occasionally call her 'puta.' A pope has been
known to start from his bed at midnight and rush out into the
corridor, and call out 'puta' three times in a voice which pierced
the Vatican; that pope was--"

"Alexander the Sixth, I dare say," said I; "the greatest monster
that ever existed, though the worthiest head which the pope system
ever had--so his conscience was not always still. I thought it had
been seared with a brand of iron."

"I did not allude to him, but to a much more modern pope," said the
man in black; "it is true he brought the word, which is Spanish,
from Spain, his native country, to Rome. He was very fond of
calling the church by that name, and other popes have taken it up.
She will allow you to call her by it, if you belong to her."

"I shall call her so," said I, "without belonging to her, or asking
her permission."

"She will allow you to treat her as such, if you belong to her,"
said the man in black; "there is a chapel in Rome, where there is a
wondrously fair statue--the son of a cardinal--I mean his nephew--
once--Well, she did not cut off his head, but slightly boxed his
cheek and bade him go."

"I have read all about that in 'Keysler's Travels,'" said I; "do
you tell her that I would not touch her with a pair of tongs,
unless to seize her nose."

"She is fond of lucre," said the man in black; "but does not grudge
a faithful priest a little private perquisite," and he took out a
very handsome gold repeater.

"Are you not afraid," said I, "to flash that watch before the eyes
of a poor tinker in a dingle?"

"Not before the eyes of one like you," said the man in black.

"It is getting late," said I; "I care not for perquisites."

"So you will not join us?" said the man in black.

"You have had my answer," said I.

"If I belong to Rome," said the man in black, "why should not you?"

"I may be a poor tinker," said I; "but I may never have undergone
what you have. You remember, perhaps, the fable of the fox who had
lost his tail?"

The man in black winced, but almost immediately recovering himself,
he said, "Well, we can do without you, we are sure of winning."

"It is not the part of wise people," said I, "to make sure of the
battle before it is fought: there's the landlord of the public-
house, who made sure that his cocks would win, yet the cocks lost
the main, and the landlord is little better than a bankrupt."

"People very different from the landlord," said the man in black,
"both in intellect and station, think we shall surely win; there
are clever machinators among us who have no doubt of our success."

"Well," said I, "I will set the landlord aside, and will adduce one
who was in every point a very different person from the landlord,
both in understanding and station; he was very fond of laying
schemes, and, indeed, many of them turned out successful. His last
and darling one, however, miscarried, notwithstanding that by his
calculations he had persuaded himself that there was no possibility
of its failing--the person that I allude to was old Fraser--"

"Who?" said the man in black, giving a start, and letting his glass
fall.

"Old Fraser, of Lovat," said I, "the prince of all conspirators and
machinators; he made sure of placing the Pretender on the throne of
these realms. 'I can bring into the field so many men,' said he;
'my son-in-law Cluny, so many, and likewise my cousin, and my good
friend;' then speaking of those on whom the government reckoned for
support, he would say, 'So and so are lukewarm, this person is
ruled by his wife, who is with us, the clergy are anything but
hostile to us, and as for the soldiers and sailors, half are
disaffected to King George, and the rest cowards.' Yet when things
came to a trial, this person whom he had calculated upon to join
the Pretender did not stir from his home, another joined the
hostile ranks, the presumed cowards turned out heroes, and those
whom he thought heroes ran away like lusty fellows at Culloden; in
a word, he found himself utterly mistaken, and in nothing more than
in himself; he thought he was a hero, and proved himself nothing
more than an old fox; he got up a hollow tree, didn't he, just like
a fox?

"'L'opere sue non furon leonine, ma di volpe.'"

The man in black sat silent for a considerable time, and at length
answered in rather a faltering voice, "I was not prepared for this;
you have frequently surprised me by your knowledge of things which
I should never have expected any person of your appearance to be
acquainted with, but that you should be aware of my name is a
circumstance utterly incomprehensible to me. I had imagined that
no person in England was acquainted with it; indeed, I don't see
how any person should be, I have revealed it to no one, not being
particularly proud of it. Yes, I acknowledge that my name is
Fraser, and that I am of the blood of that family or clan, of which
the rector of our college once said, that he was firmly of opinion
that every individual member was either rogue or fool. I was born
at Madrid, of pure, oime, Fraser blood. My parents, at an early
age, took me to -, where they shortly died, not, however, before
they had placed me in the service of a cardinal, with whom I
continued for some years, and who, when he had no further occasion
for me, sent me to the college, in the left-hand cloister of which,
as you enter, rest the bones of Sir John -; there, in studying
logic and humane letters, I lost whatever of humanity I had
retained when discarded by the cardinal. Let me not, however,
forget two points,--I am a Fraser, it is true, but not a Flannagan;
I may bear the vilest name of Britain, but not of Ireland; I was
bred up at the English house, and there is at--a house for the
education of bogtrotters; I was not bred up at that; beneath the
lowest gulf, there is one yet lower; whatever my blood may be, it
is at least not Irish; whatever my education may have been, I was
not bred at the Irish seminary--on those accounts I am thankful--
yes, per dio! I am thankful. After some years at college--but why
should I tell you my history? you know it already perfectly well,
probably much better than myself. I am now a missionary priest,
labouring in heretic England, like Parsons and Garnet of old, save
and except that, unlike them, I run no danger, for the times are
changed. As I told you before, I shall cleave to Rome--I must; no
hay remedio, as they say at Madrid, and I will do my best to
further her holy plans--he! he!--but I confess I begin to doubt of
their being successful here--you put me out; old Fraser, of Lovat!
I have heard my father talk of him; he had a gold-headed cane, with
which he once knocked my grandfather down--he was an astute one,
but, as you say, mistaken, particularly in himself. I have read
his life by Arbuthnot, it is in the library of our college.
Farewell! I shall come no more to this dingle--to come would be of
no utility; I shall go and labour elsewhere, though--how you came
to know my name, is a fact quite inexplicable--farewell! to you
both."

He then arose; and without further salutation departed from the
dingle, in which I never saw him again. "How, in the name of
wonder, came you to know that man's name?" said Belle, after he had
been gone some time.

"I, Belle? I knew nothing of the fellow's name, I assure you."

"But you mentioned his name."

"If I did, it was merely casually, by way of illustration. I was
saying how frequently cunning people were mistaken in their
calculations, and I adduced the case of old Fraser, of Lovat, as
one in point; I brought forward his name, because I was well
acquainted with his history, from having compiled and inserted it
in a wonderful work, which I edited some months ago, entitled
'Newgate Lives and Trials,' but without the slightest idea that it
was the name of him who was sitting with us; he, however, thought
that I was aware of his name. Belle! Belle! for a long time I
doubted the truth of Scripture, owing to certain conceited
individuals, but now I begin to believe firmly; what wonderful
texts are in Scripture, Belle; 'The wicked trembleth where--where--
'"

"'They were afraid where no fear was; thou hast put them to
confusion, because God hath despised them,'" said Belle; "I have
frequently read it before the clergyman in the great house of Long
Melford. But if you did not know the man's name, why let him go
away supposing that you did?"

"Oh, if he was fool enough to make such a mistake, I was not going
to undeceive him--no, no! Let the enemies of old England make the
most of all their blunders and mistakes, they will have no help
from me; but enough of the fellow, Belle; let us now have tea, and
after that--"

"No Armenian," said Belle; "but I want to ask a question: pray are
all people of that man's name either rogues or fools?"

"It is impossible for me to say, Belle, this person being the only
one of the name I have ever personally known. I suppose there are
good and bad, clever and foolish, amongst them, as amongst all
large bodies of people; however, after the tribe had been governed
for upwards of thirty years, by such a person as old Fraser, it
were no wonder if the greater part had become either rogues or
fools: he was a ruthless tyrant, Belle, over his own people, and
by his cruelty and rapaciousness must either have stunned them into
an apathy approaching to idiotcy, or made them artful knaves in
their own defence. The qualities of parents are generally
transmitted to their descendants--the progeny of trained pointers
are almost sure to point, even without being taught: if,
therefore, all Frasers are either rogues or fools, as this person
seems to insinuate, it is little to be wondered at, their parents
or grandparents having been in the training-school of old Fraser!
But enough of the old tyrant and his slaves. Belle, prepare tea
this moment, or dread my anger. I have not a gold-headed cane like
old Fraser of Lovat, but I have, what some people would dread much
more, an Armenian rune-stick."

CHAPTER V

Fresh Arrivals--Pitching the Tent--Certificated Wife--High-flying
Notions.

On the following morning, as I was about to leave my tent, I heard
the voice of Belle at the door, exclaiming, "Sleepest thou, or
wakest thou?" "I was never more awake in my life," said I, going
out. "What is the matter?" "He of the horse-shoe," said she,
"Jasper, of whom I have heard you talk, is above there on the field
with all his people; I went out about a quarter of an hour ago to
fill the kettle at the spring, and saw them arriving. "It is
well," said I; "have you any objection to asking him and his wife
to breakfast?" "You can do as you please," said she; "I have cups
enough, and have no objection to their company." "We are the first
occupiers of the ground," said I, "and, being so, should consider
ourselves in the light of hosts, and do our best to practise the
duties of hospitality." "How fond you are of using that word,"
said Belle; "if you wish to invite the man and his wife, do so,
without more ado; remember, however, that I have not cups enough,
nor indeed tea enough, for the whole company." Thereupon hurrying
up the ascent, I presently found myself outside the dingle. It was
as usual a brilliant morning, the dewy blades of the rye-grass
which covered the plain sparkled brightly in the beams of the sun,
which had probably been about two hours above the horizon. A
rather numerous body of my ancient friends and allies occupied the
ground in the vicinity of the mouth of the dingle. About five
yards on the right I perceived Mr. Petulengro busily employed in
erecting his tent; he held in his hand an iron bar, sharp at the
bottom, with a kind of arm projecting from the top for the purpose
of supporting a kettle or cauldron over the fire, and which is
called in the Romanian language "Kekauviskoe saster." With the
sharp end of this Mr. Petulengro was making holes in the earth, at
about twenty inches distant from each other, into which he inserted
certain long rods with a considerable bend towards the top, which
constituted no less than the timber of the tent, and the supporters
of the canvas. Mrs. Petulengro, and a female with a crutch in her
hand, whom I recognised as Mrs. Chikno, sat near him on the ground,
whilst two or three children, from six to ten years old, who
composed the young family of Mr. and Mrs. Petulengro, were playing
about.

"Here we are, brother," said Mr. Petulengro, as he drove the sharp
end of the bar into the ground; "here we are, and plenty of us--
Bute dosta Romany chals."

"I am glad to see you all," said I; "and particularly you, madam,"
said I, making a bow to Mrs. Petulengro; "and you also, madam,"
taking off my hat to Mrs. Chikno.

"Good-day to you, sir," said Mrs. Petulengro; "you look, as usual,
charmingly, and speak so, too; you have not forgot your manners."

"It is not all gold that glitters," said Mrs. Chikno. "However,
good-morrow to you, young rye."

"I do not see Tawno," said I, looking around; "where is he?"

"Where, indeed!" said Mrs. Chikno; "I don't know; he who
countenances him in the roving line can best answer."

"He will be here anon," said Mr. Petulengro; "he has merely ridden
down a by-road to show a farmer a two-year-old colt; she heard me
give him directions, but she can't be satisfied."

"I can't indeed," said Mrs. Chikno.

"And why not, sister?"

"Because I place no confidence in your words, brother; as I said
before, you countenances him."

"Well," said I, "I know nothing of your private concerns; I am come
on an errand. Isopel Berners, down in the dell there, requests the
pleasure of Mr. and Mrs. Petulengro's company at breakfast. She
will be happy also to see you, madam," said I, addressing Mrs.
Chikno.

"Is that young female your wife, young man?" said Mrs. Chikno.

"My wife?" said I.

"Yes, young man; your wife, your lawful certificated wife?"

"No," said I; "she is not my wife."

"Then I will not visit with her," said Mrs. Chikno; "I countenance
nothing in the roving line."

"What do you mean by the roving line?" I demanded.

"What do I mean by the roving line? Why, by it I mean such conduct
as is not tatcheno. When ryes and rawnies live together in
dingles, without being certificated, I call such behaviour being
tolerably deep in the roving line, everything savouring of which I
am determined not to sanctify. I have suffered too much by my own
certificated husband's outbreaks in that line to afford anything of
the kind the slightest shadow of countenance."

"It is hard that people may not live in dingles together without
being suspected of doing wrong," said I.

"So it is," said Mrs. Petulengro, interposing; "and, to tell you
the truth, I am altogether surprised at the illiberality of my
sister's remarks. I have often heard say, that it is in good
company--and I have kept good company in my time--that suspicion is
king's evidence of a narrow and uncultivated mind; on which account
I am suspicious of nobody, not even of my own husband, whom some
people would think I have a right to be suspicious of, seeing that
on his account I once refused a lord; but ask him whether I am
suspicious of him, and whether I seek to keep him close tied to my
apron-string; he will tell you nothing of the kind; but that, on
the contrary, I always allows him an agreeable latitude, permitting
him to go where he pleases, and to converse with any one to whose
manner of speaking he may take a fancy. But I have had the
advantage of keeping good company, and therefore--"

"Meklis," said Mrs. Chikno, "pray drop all that, sister; I believe
I have kept as good company as yourself; and with respect to that
offer with which you frequently fatigue those who keeps company
with you, I believe, after all, it was something in the roving and
uncertificated line."

"In whatever line it was," said Mrs. Petulengro, "the offer was a
good one. The young duke--for he was not only a lord, but a duke
too--offered to keep me a fine carriage, and to make me his second
wife; for it is true that he had another who was old and stout,
though mighty rich, and highly good-natured; so much so, indeed,
that the young lord assured me that she would have no manner of
objection to the arrangement; more especially if I would consent to
live in the same house with her, being fond of young and cheerful
society. So you see--"

"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Chikno, "I see, what I before thought, that
it was altogether in the uncertificated line."

"Meklis," said Mrs. Petulengro; "I use your own word, madam, which
is Romany: for my own part, I am not fond of using Romany words,
unless I can hope to pass them off for French, which I cannot in
the present company. I heartily wish that there was no such
language, and do my best to keep it away from my children, lest the
frequent use of it should altogether confirm them in low and vulgar
habits. I have four children, madam, but--"

"I suppose by talking of your four children you wish to check me
for having none," said Mrs. Chikno, bursting into tears; "if I have
no children, sister, it is no fault of mine, it is--but why do I
call you sister?" said she, angrily; "you are no sister of mine,
you are a grasni, a regular mare--a pretty sister, indeed, ashamed
of your own language. I remember well that by your high-flying
notions you drove your own mother--"

"We will drop it," said Mrs. Petulengro; "I do not wish to raise my
voice, and to make myself ridiculous. Young gentleman," said she,
"pray present my compliments to Miss Isopel Berners, and inform her
that I am very sorry that I cannot accept her polite invitation. I
am just arrived, and have some slight domestic matters to see to--
amongst others, to wash my children's faces; but that in the course
of the forenoon, when I have attended to what I have to do, and
have dressed myself, I hope to do myself the honour of paying her a
regular visit; you will tell her that, with my compliments. With
respect to my husband he can answer for himself, as I, not being of
a jealous disposition, never interferes with his matters."

"And tell Miss Berners," said Mr. Petulengro, "that I shall be
happy to wait upon her in company with my wife as soon as we are
regularly settled: at present I have much on my hands, having not
only to pitch my own tent, but this here jealous woman's, whose
husband is absent on my business."

Thereupon I returned to the dingle, and, without saying anything
about Mrs. Chikno's observations, communicated to Isopel the
messages of Mr. and Mrs. Petulengro; Isopel made no other reply
than by replacing in her coffer two additional cups and saucers,
which, in expectation of company, she had placed upon the board.
The kettle was by this time boiling. We sat down, and, as we
breakfasted, I gave Isopel Berners another lesson in the Armenian
language.

CHAPTER VI

The Promised Visit--Roman Fashion--Wizard and Witch--Catching at
Words--The Two Females--Dressing of Hair--The New Roads--Belle's
Altered Appearance--Herself Again.

About mid-day Mr. and Mrs. Petulengro came to the dingle to pay the
promised visit. Belle, at the time of their arrival, was in her
tent, but I was at the fire-place, engaged in hammering part of the
outer-tire, or defence, which had come off from one of the wheels
of my vehicle. On perceiving them I forthwith went to receive
them. Mr. Petulengro was dressed in Roman fashion, with a somewhat
smartly-cut sporting-coat, the buttons of which were half-crowns--
and a waistcoat, scarlet and black, the buttons of which were
spaded half-guineas; his breeches were of a stuff half velveteen,
half corduroy, the cords exceedingly broad. He had leggings of
buff cloth, furred at the bottom; and upon his feet were highlows.
Under his left arm was a long black whalebone riding-whip, with a
red lash, and an immense silver knob. Upon his head was a hat with
a high peak, somewhat of the kind which the Spaniards call calane,
so much in favour with the bravos of Seville and Madrid. Now, when
I have added that Mr. Petulengro had on a very fine white holland
shirt, I think I have described his array. Mrs. Petulengro--I beg
pardon for not having spoken of her first--was also arrayed very
much in the Roman fashion. Her hair, which was exceedingly black
and lustrous, fell in braids on either side of her head. In her
ears were rings, with long drops of gold. Round her neck was a
string of what seemed very much like very large pearls, somewhat
tarnished, however, and apparently of considerable antiquity.
"Here we are, brother," said Mr. Petulengro; "here we are, come to
see you--wizard and witch, witch and wizard:-

"'There's a chovahanee, and a chovahano,
The nav se len is Petulengro.'"

"Hold your tongue, sir," said Mrs. Petulengro; "you make me ashamed
of you with your vulgar ditties. We are come a visiting now, and
everything low should be left behind."

"True," said Mr. Petulengro; "why bring what's low to the dingle,
which is low enough already?"

"What, are you a catcher at words?" said I. "I thought that
catching at words had been confined to the pothouse farmers and
village witty bodies."

"All fools," said Mrs. Petulengro, "catch at words, and very
naturally, as by so doing they hope to prevent the possibility of
rational conversation. Catching at words confined to pothouse
farmers, and village witty bodies! No, not to Jasper Petulengro.
Listen for an hour or two to the discourse of a set they call
newspaper editors, and if you don't go out and eat grass, as a dog
does when he is sick, I am no female woman. The young lord whose
hand I refused when I took up with wise Jasper, once brought two of
them to my mother's tan, when hankering after my company; they did
nothing but carp at each other's words, and a pretty hand they made
of it. Ill-favoured dogs they were; and their attempts at what
they called wit almost as unfortunate as their countenances."

"Well," said I, "madam, we will drop all catchings and carpings for
the present. Pray take your seat on this stool, whilst I go and
announce to Miss Isopel Berners your arrival."

Thereupon I went to Belle's habitation, and informed her that Mr.
and Mrs. Petulengro had paid us a visit of ceremony, and were
awaiting her at the fire-place. "Pray go and tell them that I am
busy," said Belle, who was engaged with her needle. "I do not feel
disposed to take part in any such nonsense." "I shall do no such
thing," said I; "and I insist upon your coming forthwith, and
showing proper courtesy to your visitors. If you do not, their
feelings will be hurt, and you are aware that I cannot bear that
people's feelings should be outraged. Come this moment, or--" "Or
what?" said Belle, half smiling. "I was about to say something in
Armenian," said I. "Well," said Belle, laying down her work, "I
will come." "Stay," said I; "your hair is hanging about your ears,
and your dress is in disorder; you had better stay a minute or two
to prepare yourself to appear before your visitors, who have come
in their very best attire." "No," said Belle, "I will make no
alteration in my appearance; you told me to come this moment, and
you shall be obeyed." So Belle and I advanced towards our guests.
As we drew nigh Mr. Petulengro took off his hat, and made a
profound obeisance to Belle, whilst Mrs. Petulengro rose from the
stool, and made a profound curtsey. Belle, who had flung her hair
back over her shoulders, returned their salutations by bending her
head, and after slightly glancing at Mr. Petulengro, fixed her
large blue eyes full upon his wife. Both these females were very
handsome--but how unlike! Belle fair, with blue eyes and flaxen
hair; Mrs. Petulengro with olive complexion, eyes black, and hair
dark--as dark as could be. Belle, in demeanour calm and proud; the
gypsy graceful, but full of movement and agitation. And then how
different were those two in stature! The head of the Romany rawnie
scarcely ascended to the breast of Isopel Berners. I could see
that Mrs. Petulengro gazed on Belle with unmixed admiration; so did
her husband. "Well," said the latter, "one thing I will say, which
is, that there is only one on earth worthy to stand up in front of
this she, and that is the beauty of the world, as far as man flesh
is concerned, Tawno Chikno; what a pity he did not come down!"

"Tawno Chikno," said Mrs. Petulengro, flaring up; "a pretty fellow
he to stand up in front of this gentlewoman, a pity he didn't come,
quotha? not at all, the fellow is a sneak, afraid of his wife. He
stand up against this rawnie! why, the look she has given me would
knock the fellow down."

"It is easier to knock him down with a look than with a fist," said
Mr. Petulengro; "that is, if the look comes from a woman: not that
I am disposed to doubt that this female gentlewoman is able to
knock him down either one way or the other. I have heard of her
often enough, and have seen her once or twice, though not so near
as now. Well, ma'am, my wife and I are come to pay our respects to
you; we are both glad to find that you have left off keeping
company with Flaming Bosville, and have taken up with my pal; he is
not very handsome, but a better--"

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