“My innocence was thus perfectly established before the eyes of the world, and all my friends hastened to congratulate me. There was one who congratulated me more than all the rest—it was my beloved one, but—but—she was dying—”
Here the old man drew his hand before his eyes, and remained for some time without speaking; at length he removed his hand, and commenced again with a broken voice: “You will pardon me if I hurry over this part of my story; I am unable to dwell upon it. How dwell upon a period when I saw my only earthly treasure pine away gradually day by day, and knew that nothing could save her! She saw my agony, and did all she could to console me, saying that she was herself quite resigned. A little time before her death she expressed a wish that we should be united. I was too happy to comply with her request. We were united, I brought her to this house, where, in less than a week, she expired in my arms.”
Afteranother pause, the old man once more resumed his narration: “If ever there was a man perfectly miserable it was myself, after the loss of that cherished woman. I sat solitary in the house, in which I had hoped in her company to realise the choicest earthly happiness, a prey to the bitterest reflections; many people visited, and endeavoured to console me. Amongst them was the clergyman of the parish, who begged me to be resigned, and told me that it was good to be afflicted. I bowed my head, but I could not help thinking how easy it must be for those who feel no affliction to bid others to be resigned, and to talk of the benefit resulting from sorrow; perhaps I should have paid more attention to his discourse than I did, provided he had been a person for whom it was possible to entertain much respect, but his own heart was known to be set on the things of this world.
“Within a little time he had an opportunity, in his own case, of practising resignation, and of realising the benefit of being afflicted. A merchant, to whom he had entrusted all his fortune, in the hope of a large interest, became suddenly a bankrupt, with scarcely any assets. I will not say that it was owing to this misfortune that the divine died in less than a month after its occurrence, but such was the fact. Amongst those who most frequently visited me was my friend the surgeon; he did not confine himself to the common topics of consolation, but endeavoured to impress upon me the necessity of rousing myself, advising me to occupy my mind with some pursuit, particularly recommending agriculture; but agriculture possessed no interest for me, nor, indeed, any pursuit within my reach; my hopes of happiness had been blighted, and what cared I for anything? so at last he thought it best to leave me to myself, hoping that time would bring with it consolation; and I remained solitary in my house, waited upon by a male and a female servant. Oh, what dreary moments I passed! My only amusement—and it was a sad one—was to look at the things which once belonged to my beloved, and which were now in my possession. Oh, how fondly would I dwell upon them! There were some books; I cared not for books, but these hadbelonged to my beloved. Oh, how fondly did I dwell on them! Then there was her hat and bonnet—oh, me, how fondly did I gaze upon them! and after looking at her things for hours, I would sit and ruminate on the happiness I had lost. How I execrated the moment I had gone to the fair to sell horses! ‘Would that I had never been at Horncastle to sell horses!’ I would say; ‘I might at this moment have been enjoying the company of my beloved, leading a happy, quiet, easy life, but for that fatal expedition;’ that thought worked on my brain, till my brain seemed to turn round.
“One day I sat at the breakfast-table gazing vacantly around me; my mind was in a state of inexpressible misery; there was a whirl in my brain, probably like that which people feel who are rapidly going mad; this increased to such a degree that I felt giddiness coming upon me. To abate this feeling I no longer permitted my eyes to wander about, but fixed them upon an object on the table, and continued gazing at it for several minutes without knowing what it was; at length, the misery in my head was somewhat stilled, my lips moved, and I heard myself saying, ‘What odd marks!’ I had fastened my eyes on the side of a teapot, and by keeping them fixed upon it, had become aware of a fact that had escaped my notice before—namely, that there were marks upon it. I kept my eyes fixed upon them, and repeated at intervals, ‘What strange marks!’ for I thought that looking upon the marks tended to abate the whirl in my head. I kept tracing the marks one after the other, and I observed that though they all bore a general resemblance to each other, they were all to a certain extent different. The smallest portion possible of curious interest had been awakened within me, and, at last, I asked myself, within my own mind: ‘What motive could induce people to put such odd marks on their crockery? They were not pictures, they were not letters; what motive could people have for putting them there?’ At last, I removed my eyes from the teapot, and thought for a few moments about the marks; presently, however, I felt the whirl returning; the marks became almost effaced from my mind, and I was beginning to revert to my miserable ruminations, when suddenly methought I heard a voice say: ‘The marks! the marks! cling to the marks! or—’ So I fixed my eyes again upon the marks, inspecting them more attentively, if possible, than I had done before, and, at last, I came to the conclusion that they were not capricious or fanciful marks, but were arranged systematically; when I had gazed at them for a considerable time, I turned theteapot round, and on the other side I observed marks of a similar kind, which I soon discovered were identical with the ones I had been observing. All the marks were something alike, but all somewhat different, and on comparing them with each other, I was struck with the frequent occurrence of a mark crossing an upright line, or projecting from it, now on the right, now on the left side; and I said to myself: ‘Why does this mark sometimes cross the upright line, and sometimes project?’ and the more I thought on the matter, the less did I feel of the misery in my head.
“The things were at length removed, and I sat, as I had for some time past been wont to sit after my meals, silent and motionless; but in the present instance my mind was not entirely abandoned to the one mournful idea which had so long distressed it. It was, to a certain extent, occupied with the marks on the teapot; it is true that the mournful idea strove hard with the marks on the teapot for the mastery in my mind, and at last the painful idea drove the marks of the teapot out; they, however, would occasionally return and flit across my mind for a moment or two, and their coming was like a momentary relief from intense pain. I thought once or twice that I would have the teapot placed before me, that I might examine the marks at leisure, but I considered that it would be as well to defer the re-examination of the marks till the next morning; at that time I did not take tea of an evening. By deferring the examination thus, I had something to look forward to on the next morning. The day was a melancholy one, but it certainly was more tolerable to me than any of the others had been since the death of my beloved. As I lay awake that night I occasionally thought of the marks, and in my sleep methought I saw them upon the teapot vividly before me. On the morrow, I examined the marks again; how singular they looked! Surely they must mean something, and if so, what could they mean? and at last I thought within myself whether it would be possible for me to make out what they meant: that day I felt more relief than on the preceding one, and towards night I walked a little about.
“In about a week’s time I received a visit from my friend the surgeon; after a little discourse, he told me that he perceived I was better than when he had last seen me, and asked me what I had been about; I told him that I had been principally occupied in considering certain marks which I had found on a teapot, and wondering what they could mean; he smiled at first, but instantly assuming a serious look, he asked to see the teapot. I producedit, and after having surveyed the marks with attention, he observed that they were highly curious, and also wondered what they meant. ‘I strongly advise you,’ said he, ‘to attempt to make them out, and also to take moderate exercise, and to see after your concerns.’ I followed his advice; every morning I studied the marks on the teapot, and in the course of the day took moderate exercise, and attended to little domestic matters, as became the master of a house.
“I subsequently learned that the surgeon, in advising me to study the marks, and endeavour to make out their meaning, merely hoped that by means of them my mind might by degrees be diverted from the mournful idea on which it had so long brooded. He was a man well skilled in his profession, but had read and thought very little on matters unconnected with it. He had no idea that the marks had any particular signification, or were anything else but common and fortuitous ones. That I became at all acquainted with their nature was owing to a ludicrous circumstance which I will now relate.
“One day, chancing to be at a neighbouring town, I was struck with the appearance of a shop recently established. It had an immense bow-window, and every part of it, to which a brush could be applied, was painted in a gaudy flaming style. Large bowls of green and black tea were placed upon certain chests, which stood at the window. I stopped to look at them, such a display, whatever it may be at the present time, being at the period of which I am speaking, quite uncommon in a country town. The tea, whether black or green, was very shining and inviting, and the bowls, of which there were three, standing on as many chests, were very grand and foreign looking. Two of these were white, with figures and trees painted upon them in blue; the other, which was the middlemost, had neither trees nor figures upon it, but as I looked through the window, appeared to have on its sides the very same kind of marks which I had observed on the teapot at home; there were also marks on the tea-chests, somewhat similar, but much larger, and apparently, not executed with so much care. ‘Best teas direct from China,’ said a voice close to my side; and looking round I saw a youngish man, with a frizzled head, flat face, and an immensely wide mouth, standing in his shirt-sleeves by the door. ‘Direct from China,’ said he; ‘perhaps you will do me the favour to walk in and scent them?’ ‘I do not want any tea,’ said I; ‘I was only standing at the window examining those marks on the bowl and the chests. I have observed similar ones on a teapot at home.’ ‘Pray walk in,sir,’ said the young fellow, extending his mouth till it reached nearly from ear to ear; ‘pray walk in, and I shall be happy to give you any information respecting the manners and customs of the Chinese in my power.’ Thereupon I followed him into his shop, where he began to harangue on the manners, customs and peculiarities of the Chinese, especially their manner of preparing tea, not forgetting to tell me that the only genuine Chinese tea ever imported into England was to be found in his shop. ‘With respect to those marks,’ said he, ‘on the bowl and chests, they are nothing more nor less than Chinese writing, expressing something, though what I can’t exactly tell you. Allow me to sell you this pound of tea,’ he added, showing me a paper parcel. ‘On the envelope there is a printed account of the Chinese system of writing, extracted from authors of the most established reputation. These things I print principally with the hope of, in some degree, removing the worse than Gothic ignorance prevalent amongst the natives of these parts. I am from London myself. With respect to all that relates to the Chinese real imperial tea, I assure you sir, that—’ Well, to make short of what you doubtless consider a very tiresome story, I purchased the tea and carried it home. The tea proved imperially bad, but the paper envelope really contained some information on the Chinese language and writing, amounting to about as much as you gained from me the other day. On learning that the marks on the teapot expressed words, I felt my interest with respect to them considerably increased and returned to the task of inspecting them with greater zeal than before, hoping, by continually looking at them, to be able eventually to understand their meaning, in which hope you may easily believe I was disappointed, though my desire to understand what they represented continued on the increase. In this dilemma I determined to apply again to the shopkeeper from whom I bought the tea. I found him in rather low spirits, his shirt-sleeves were soiled, and his hair was out of curl. On my inquiring how he got on, he informed me that he intended speedily to leave, having received little or no encouragement, the people, in their Gothic ignorance, preferring to deal with an old-fashioned shopkeeper over the way, who, so far from possessing any acquaintance with the polity and institutions of the Chinese, did not, he firmly believed, know that tea came from China. ‘You are come for some more, I suppose?’ said he. On receiving an answer in the negative he looked somewhat blank, but when I added that I came to consult with him as to the means which I must take in order to acquire the Chinese language he brightened up. ‘You must geta grammar,’ said he, rubbing his hands. ‘Have you not one?’ said I. ‘No,’ he replied, ‘but any bookseller can procure you one.’ As I was taking my departure, he told me that as he was about to leave the neighbourhood, the bowl at the window, which bore the inscription, besides some other pieces of porcelain of a similar description, were at my service, provided I chose to purchase them. I consented, and two or three days afterwards took from off his hands all the china in his possession which bore inscriptions, paying what he demanded. Had I waited till the sale of his effects, which occurred within a few weeks, I could probably have procured it for a fifth part of the sum which I paid, the other pieces realising very little. I did not, however, grudge the poor fellow what he got from me, as I considered myself to be somewhat in his debt for the information he had afforded me.
“As for the rest of my story it may be briefly told. I followed the advice of the shopkeeper, and applied to a bookseller who wrote to his correspondent in London. After a long interval, I was informed that if I wished to learn Chinese I must do so through the medium of French, there being neither Chinese grammar nor dictionary in our language. I was at first very much disheartened. I determined, however, at last to gratify my desire of learning Chinese, even at the expense of learning French. I procured the books, and in order to qualify myself to turn them to account, took lessons in French from a little Swiss, the usher of a neighbouring boarding-school. I was very stupid in acquiring French; perseverance, however, enabled me to acquire a knowledge sufficient for the object I had in view. In about two years I began to study Chinese by myself, through the medium of the French.”
“Well,” said I, “and how did you get on with the study of the Chinese?”
And then the old man proceeded to inform me how he got on with the study of Chinese, enumerated all the difficulties he had had to encounter; dilating upon his frequent despondency of mind, and occasionally his utter despair of ever mastering Chinese. He told me that more than once he had determined upon giving up the study, but then the misery in his head forthwith returned, to escape from which he had as often resumed it. It appeared, however, that ten years elapsed before he was able to use ten of the two hundred and fourteen keys, which serve to undo the locks of Chinese writing.
“And are you able at present to use the entire number?” I demanded.
“Yes,” said the old man; “I can at present use the whole number. I know the key for every particular lock, though I frequently find the wards unwilling to give way.”
“Has nothing particular occurred to you,” said I, “during the time that you have been prosecuting your studies?”
“During the whole time in which I have been engaged in these studies,” said the old man, “only one circumstance has occurred which requires any particular mention—the death of my old friend the surgeon—who was carried off suddenly by a fit of apoplexy. His death was a great shock to me, and for a time interrupted my studies. His son, however, who succeeded him, was very kind to me, and, in some degree, supplied his father’s place; and I gradually returned to my Chinese locks and keys.”
“And in applying keys to the Chinese locks you employ your time?”
“Yes,” said the old man; “in making out the inscriptions on the various pieces of porcelain, which I have at different times procured, I pass my time. The first inscription which I translated was that on the teapot of my beloved.”
“And how many other pieces of porcelain may you have at present in your possession?”
“About fifteen hundred.”
“And how did you obtain them?” I demanded.
“Without much labour,” said the old man, “in the neighbouring towns and villages—chiefly at auctions, of which, about twenty years ago, there were many in these parts.”
“And may I ask your reasons for confining your studies entirely to the crockery literature of China, when you have all the rest at your disposal?”
“The inscriptions enable me to pass my time,” said the old man; “what more would the whole literature of China do?”
“And from those inscriptions,” said I, “what a book it is in your power to make, whenever so disposed. ‘Translations from the crockery literature of China.’ Such a book would be sure to take; even glorious John himself would not disdain to publish it.”
The old man smiled. “I have no desire for literary distinction,” said he; “no ambition. My original wish was to pass my life in easy, quiet obscurity, with her whom I loved. I was disappointed in my wish; she was removed, who constituted my only felicity in this life; desolation came to my heart, and misery to my head. To escape from the latter I had recourse to Chinese. By degrees the misery left my head, but the desolation of the heart yet remains.”
“Be of good cheer,” said I; “through the instrumentality of this affliction you have learnt Chinese, and, in so doing, learnt to practice the duties of hospitality. Who but a man who could read Runes on a teapot, would have received an unfortunate wayfarer as you have received me?”
“Well,” said the old man, “let us hope that all is for the best. I am by nature indolent, and, but for this affliction, should, perhaps, have hardly taken the trouble to do my duty to my fellow-creatures. I am very, very indolent,” said he, slightly glancing towards the clock; “therefore let us hope that all is for the best; but, oh! these trials, they are very hard to bear.”
Thenext morning, having breakfasted with my old friend, I went into the stable to make the necessary preparations for my departure; there, with the assistance of a stable lad, I cleaned and caparisoned my horse, and then, returning into the house, I made the old female attendant such a present as I deemed would be some compensation for the trouble I had caused. Hearing that the old gentleman was in his study, I repaired to him. “I am come to take leave of you,” said I, “and to thank you for all the hospitality which I have received at your hands.” The eyes of the old man were fixed steadfastly on the inscription which I had found him studying on a former occasion. “At length,” he murmured to himself, “I have it—I think I have it;” and then, looking at me, he said: “So you are about to depart?”
“Yes,” said I; “my horse will be at the front door in a few minutes; I am glad, however, before I go, to find that you have mastered the inscription.”
“Yes,” said the old man, “I believe I have mastered it; it seems to consist of some verses relating to the worship of the Spirit of the Hearth.”
“What is the Spirit of the Hearth?” said I.
“One of the many demons which the Chinese worship,” said the old man; “they do not worship one God, but many.” And then the old man told me a great many highly interesting particulars respecting the demon worship of the Chinese.
After the lapse of at least half an hour I said: “I must not linger here any longer, however willing. Horncastle is distant, and I wish to be there to-night. Pray can you inform me what’s o’clock?”
The old man, rising, looked towards the clock which hung on the side of the room at his left hand, on the farther side of the table at which he was seated.
“I am rather short-sighted,” said I, “and cannot distinguish the numbers at that distance.”
“It is ten o’clock,” said the old man; “I believe somewhat past.”
“A quarter, perhaps?”
“Yes,” said the old man, “a quarter or—”
“Or?”
“Seven minutes, or ten minutes past ten.”
“I do not understand you.”
“Why, to tell you the truth,” said the old man with a smile, “there is one thing to the knowledge of which I could never exactly attain.”
“Do you mean to say,” said I, “that you do not know what’s o’clock?”
“I can give a guess,” said the old man, “to within a few minutes.”
“But you cannot tell the exact moment?”
“No,” said the old man.
“In the name of wonder,” said I, “with that thing there on the wall continually ticking in your ear, how comes it that you do not know what’s o’clock?”
“Why,” said the old man, “I have contented myself with giving a tolerably good guess; to do more would have been too great trouble.”
“But you have learnt Chinese,” said I.
“Yes,” said the old man, “I have learnt Chinese.”
“Well,” said I, “I really would counsel you to learn to know what’s o’clock as soon as possible. Consider what a sad thing it would be to go out of the world not knowing what’s o’clock. A millionth part of the trouble required to learn Chinese would, if employed, infallibly teach you to know what’s o’clock.”
“I had a motive for learning Chinese,” said the old man; “the hope of appeasing the misery in my head. With respect to not knowing what’s o’clock, I cannot see anything particularly sad in the matter. A man may get through the world very creditably without knowing what’s o’clock. Yet, upon the whole, it is no bad thing to know what’s o’clock—you, of course, do. It would be too good a joke if two people were to be together, one knowing Armenian and the other Chinese, and neither knowing what’s o’clock. I’ll now see you off.”
Leavingthe house of the old man who knew Chinese, but could not tell what was o’clock, I wended my way to Horncastle, which I reached in the evening of the same day, without having met any adventure on the way worthy of being marked down in this very remarkable history.
The town was a small one, seemingly ancient, and was crowded with people and horses. I proceeded, without delay, to the inn to which my friend the surgeon had directed me. “It is of no use coming here,” said two or three ostlers, as I entered the yard—“all full—no room whatever”; whilst one added in an undertone, “That ere a’n’t a bad-looking horse”. “I want to see the master of this inn,” said I, as I dismounted from the horse. “See the master,” said an ostler—the same who had paid the negative kind of compliment to the horse—“a likely thing, truly; my master is drinking wine with some of the grand gentry, and can’t be disturbed for the sake of the like of you.” “I bring a letter to him,” said I, pulling out the surgeon’s epistle. “I wish you would deliver it to him,” I added, offering a half-crown. “Oh, it’s you, is it?” said the ostler, taking the letter and the half-crown; “my master will be right glad to see you; why, you ha’n’t been here for many a year; I’ll carry the note to him at once.” And with these words he hurried into the house. “That’s a nice horse, young man,” said another ostler; “what will you take for it?” to which interrogation I made no answer. “If you wish to sell him,” said the ostler, coming up to me, and winking knowingly, “I think I and my partners might offer you a summut under seventy pounds,” to which kind of half-insinuated offer I made no reply, save by winking in the same kind of knowing manner in which I had observed him wink. “Rather leary!” said a third ostler. “Well, young man, perhaps you will drink to-night with me and my partners, when we can talk the matter over.” Before I had time to answer, the landlord, a well-dressed, good-looking man, made his appearance with the ostler; he bore the letter in his hand. Without glancing at me, he betook himselfat once to consider the horse, going round him and observing every point with the utmost minuteness. At last, after having gone round the horse three times, he stopped beside me, and keeping his eyes on the horse, bent his head towards his right shoulder. “That horse is worth some money,” said he, turning towards me suddenly, and slightly touching me on the arm with the letter which he held in his hand; to which observation I made no reply, save by bending my head towards the right shoulder as I had seen him do. “The young man is going to talk to me and my partners about it to-night,” said the ostler who had expressed an opinion that he and his friends might offer me somewhat under seventy pounds for the animal. “Pooh!” said the landlord, “the young man knows what he is about; in the meantime, lead the horse to the reserved stall, and see well after him. My friend,” said he, taking me aside after the ostler had led the animal away, “recommends you to me in the strongest manner, on which account alone I take you and your horse in. I need not advise you not to be taken in, as I should say, by your look, that you are tolerably awake; but there are queer hands at Horncastle at this time, and those fellows of mine, you understand me—; but I have a great deal to do at present, so you must excuse me.” And thereupon went into the house.
That same evening I was engaged at least two hours in the stable, in rubbing the horse down, and preparing him for the exhibition which I intended he should make in the fair on the following day. The ostler to whom I had given the half-crown occasionally assisted me, though he was too much occupied by the horses of other guests to devote any length of time to the service of mine; he more than once repeated to me his firm conviction that himself and partners could afford to offer me summut for the horse; and at a later hour when, in compliance with his invitation, I took a glass of summut with himself and partners, in a little room surrounded with corn-chests, on which we sat, both himself and partners endeavoured to impress upon me, chiefly by means of nods and winks, their conviction that they could afford to give me summut for the horse, provided I were disposed to sell him; in return for which intimation, with as many nods and winks as they had all collectively used, I endeavoured to impress upon them my conviction that I could get summut handsomer in the fair than they might be disposed to offer me, seeing as how—which how I followed by a wink and a nod, which they seemed perfectly to understand, one or two of them declaring that if the case was so it made a great deal of difference, and that they did not wishto be any hindrance to me, more particularly as it was quite clear I had been an ostler like themselves.
It was late at night when I began to think of retiring to rest. On inquiring if there was any place in which I could sleep, I was informed that there was a bed at my service, provided I chose to sleep in a two-bedded room, one of the beds of which was engaged by another gentleman. I expressed my satisfaction at this arrangement, and was conducted by a maid-servant up many pairs of stairs to a garret, in which were two small beds, in one of which she gave me to understand another gentleman slept; he had, however, not yet retired to rest; I asked who he was, but the maid-servant could give me no information about him, save that he was a highly respectable gentleman, and a friend of her master’s. Presently, bidding me good-night, she left me with a candle; and I, having undressed myself and extinguished the light, went to bed. Notwithstanding the noises which sounded from every part of the house, I was not slow in falling asleep, being thoroughly tired. I know not how long I might have been in bed, perhaps two hours, when I was partially awakened by a light shining upon my face, whereupon, unclosing my eyes, I perceived the figure of a man, with a candle in one hand, staring at my face, whilst with the other hand, he held back the curtain of the bed. As I have said before, I was only partially awakened, my power of conception was consequently very confused; it appeared to me, however, that the man was dressed in a green coat; that he had curly brown or black hair, and that there was something peculiar in his look. Just as I was beginning to recollect myself, the curtain dropped, and I heard, or thought I heard, a voice say: “Don’t know the cove”. Then there was a rustling like a person undressing, whereupon being satisfied that it was my fellow-lodger, I dropped asleep, but was awakened again by a kind of heavy plunge upon the other bed, which caused it to rock and creak, when I observed that the light had been extinguished, probably blown out, if I might judge from a rather disagreeable smell of burnt wick which remained in the room, and which kept me awake till I heard my companion breathing hard, when, turning on the other side, I was again once more speedily in the arms of slumber.
Ithad been my intention to be up and doing early on the following morning, but my slumbers proved so profound, that I did not wake until about eight; on arising, I again found myself the sole occupant of the apartment, my more alert companion having probably risen at a much earlier hour. Having dressed myself, I descended, and going to the stable, found my horse under the hands of my friend the ostler, who was carefully rubbing him down. “There a’n’t a better horse in the fair,” said he to me, “and as you are one of us, and appear to be all right, I’ll give you a piece of advice—don’t take less than a hundred and fifty for him; if you mind your hits, you may get it, for I have known two hundred given in this fair for one no better, if so good.” “Well,” said I, “thank you for your advice, which I will take, and if successful, will give you ‘summut’ handsome.” “Thank you,” said the ostler; “and now let me ask whether you are up to all the ways of this here place?” “I have never been here before,” said I, “but I have a pair of tolerably sharp eyes in my head.” “That I see you have,” said the ostler, “but many a body, with as sharp a pair of eyes as yourn, has lost his horse in this fair, for want of having been here before, therefore,” said he, “I’ll give you a caution or two.” Thereupon the ostler proceeded to give me at least half a dozen cautions, only two of which I shall relate to the reader: the first, not to stop to listen to what any chance customer might have to say; and the last—the one on which he appeared to lay most stress—by no manner of means to permit a Yorkshireman to get up into the saddle, “for,” said he, “if you do, it is three to one that he rides off with the horse; he can’t help it; trust a cat amongst cream, but never trust a Yorkshireman on the saddle of a good horse; by-the-bye,” he continued, “that saddle of yours is not a particularly good one, no more is the bridle. A shabby saddle and bridle have more than once spoiled the sale of a good horse. I tell you what, as you seem a decent kind of a young chap, I’ll lend you a saddle and bridle of my master’s, almost bran new; he won’t object, I know, as you are a friend of his, only you must not forget your promise tocome down with ‘summut handsome’ after you have sold the animal.”
High Street, Horncastle
After a slight breakfast I mounted the horse, which, decked out in his borrowed finery, really looked better by a large sum of money than on any former occasion. Making my way out of the yard of the inn, I was instantly in the principal street of the town, up and down which an immense number of horses were being exhibited, some led, and others with riders. “A wonderful small quantity of good horses in the fair this time!” I heard a stout, jockey-looking individual say, who was staring up the street with his side towards me. “Halloo, young fellow!” said he, a few moments after I had passed, “whose horse is that? Stop! I want to look at him!” Though confident that he was addressing himself to me, I took no notice, remembering the advice of the ostler, and proceeded up the street. My horse possessed a good walking step; but walking, as the reader knows, was not his best pace, which was the long trot, at which I could not well exercise him in the street, on account of the crowd of men and animals; however, as he walked along, I could easily perceive that he attracted no slight attention amongst those, who by their jockey dress and general appearance, I imagined to be connoisseurs; I heard various calls to stop, to none of which I paid the slightest attention. In a few minutes I found myself out of the town, when, turning round for the purpose of returning, I found I had been followed by several of the connoisseur-looking individuals, whom I had observed in the fair. “Now would be the time for a display,” thought I; and looking around me I observed two five-barred gates, one on each side of the road, and fronting each other. Turning my horse’s head to one, I pressed my heels to his sides, loosened the reins, and gave an encouraging cry, whereupon the animal cleared the gate in a twinkling. Before he had advanced ten yards in the field to which the gate opened, I had turned him round, and again giving him cry and rein, I caused him to leap back again into the road, and still allowing him head, I made him leap the other gate; and forthwith turning him round, I caused him to leap once more into the road, where he stood proudly tossing his head, as much as to say, “What more?” “A fine horse! a capital horse!” said several of the connoisseurs. “What do you ask for him?” “Too much for any of you to pay,” said I. “A horse like this is intended for other kind of customers than any of you.” “How do you know that,” said one; the very same person whom I had heard complaining in the street of the paucity of good horses in the fair. “Come, let us knowwhat you ask for him?” “A hundred and fifty pounds,” said I; “neither more nor less.” “Do you call that a great price?” said the man. “Why, I thought you would have asked double that amount! You do yourself injustice, young man.” “Perhaps I do,” said I, “but that’s my affair; I do not choose to take more.” “I wish you would let me get into the saddle,” said the man; “the horse knows you, and therefore shows to more advantage; but I should like to see how he would move under me, who am a stranger. Will you let me get into the saddle, young man?” “No,” said I; “I will not let you get into the saddle.” “Why not?” said the man. “Lest you should be a Yorkshireman,” said I, “and should run away with the horse.” “Yorkshire?” said the man; “I am from Suffolk, silly Suffolk, so you need not be afraid of my running away with the horse.” “Oh! if that’s the case,” said I, “I should be afraid that the horse would run away with you; so I will by no means let you mount.” “Will you let me look in his mouth?” said the man. “If you please,” said I; “but I tell you, he’s apt to bite.” “He can scarcely be a worse bite than his master,” said the man, looking into the horse’s mouth; “he’s four off. I say, young man, will you warrant this horse?” “No,” said I; “I never warrant horses; the horses that I ride can always warrant themselves.” “I wish you would let me speak a word to you,” said he. “Just come aside. It’s a nice horse,” said he in a half-whisper, after I had ridden a few paces aside with him. “It’s a nice horse,” said he, placing his hand upon the pommel of the saddle, and looking up in my face, “and I think I can find you a customer. If you would take a hundred, I think my lord would purchase it, for he has sent me about the fair to look him up a horse, by which he could hope to make an honest penny.” “Well,” said I, “and could he not make an honest penny, and yet give me the price I ask?” “Why,” said the go-between, “a hundred and fifty pounds is as much as the animal is worth, or nearly so; and my lord, do you see—” “I see no reason at all,” said I, “why I should sell the animal for less than he is worth, in order that his lordship may be benefited by him; so that if his lordship wants to make an honest penny, he must find some person who would consider the disadvantage of selling him a horse for less than it is worth as counterbalanced by the honour of dealing with a lord, which I should never do; but I can’t be wasting my time here. I am going back to the —, where, if you, or any person, are desirous of purchasing the horse, you must come within the next half-hour, or I shall probably not feel disposed to sell him at all.” “Anotherword, young man,” said the jockey, but without staying to hear what he had to say, I put the horse to his best trot, and re-entering the town, and threading my way as well as I could through the press, I returned to the yard of the inn, where, dismounting, I stood still, holding the horse by the bridle.
I had been standing in this manner about five minutes, when I saw the jockey enter the yard, accompanied by another individual. They advanced directly towards me. “Here is my lord come to look at the horse, young man,” said the jockey. My lord, as the jockey called him, was a tall figure, of about five-and-thirty. He had on his head a hat somewhat rusty, and on his back a surtout of blue rather the worse for wear. His forehead, if not high, was exceedingly narrow; his eyes were brown, with a rat-like glare in them; the nose was rather long, and the mouth very wide; the cheek-bones high, and the cheeks, as to hue and consistency, exhibiting very much the appearance of a withered red apple; there was a gaunt expression of hunger in the whole countenance. He had scarcely glanced at the horse; when drawing in his cheeks, he thrust out his lips very much after the manner of a baboon when he sees a piece of sugar held out towards him. “Is this horse yours?” said he, suddenly turning towards me, with a kind of smirk. “It’s my horse,” said I; “are you the person who wishes to make an honest penny by it?” “How!” said he, drawing up his head with a very consequential look, and speaking with a very haughty tone; “what do you mean?” We looked at each other full in the face; after a few moments, the muscles of the mouth of him of the hungry look began to move violently, the face was puckered into innumerable wrinkles, and the eyes became half-closed. “Well,” said I, “have you ever seen me before? I suppose you are asking yourself that question.” “Excuse me, sir,” said he, dropping his lofty look, and speaking in a very subdued and civil tone, “I have never had the honour of seeing you before, that is—” said he, slightly glancing at me again, and again moving the muscles of his mouth; “no, I have never seen you before,” he added, making me a bow, “I have never had that pleasure. My business with you, at present, is to inquire the lowest price you are willing to take for this horse. My agent here informs me that you ask one hundred and fifty pounds, which I cannot think of giving. The horse is a showy horse, but look, my dear sir, he has a defect here, and there in his near fore leg I observe something which looks very like a splint—yes, upon my credit,” said he, touching the animal, “he has a splint, or something which will end in one. A hundred and fifty pounds, sir! whatcould have induced you ever to ask anything like that for this animal? I protest that, in my time, I have frequently bought a better for— Who are you, sir? I am in treaty for this horse,” said he to a man who had come up whilst he was talking, and was now looking into the horse’s mouth. “Who am I?” said the man, still looking into the horse’s mouth; “who am I? his lordship asks me. Ah, I see, close on five,” said he, releasing the horse’s jaws, and looking at me. This new comer was a thin, wiry-made individual, with wiry curling brown hair; his face was dark, and wore an arch and somewhat roguish expression; upon one of his eyes was a kind of speck or beam; he might be about forty, wore a green jockey coat, and held in his hand a black riding-whip, with a knob of silver wire. As I gazed upon his countenance, it brought powerfully to my mind the face which, by the light of the candle, I had seen staring over me on the preceding night, when lying in bed and half-asleep. Close beside him, and seemingly in his company, stood an exceedingly tall figure, that of a youth, seemingly about one-and-twenty, dressed in a handsome riding-dress, and wearing on his head a singular hat, green in colour, and with a very high peak. “What do you ask for this horse?” said he of the green coat, winking at me with the eye which had a beam in it, whilst the other shone and sparkled like Mrs. Colonel W—’s Golconda diamond. “Who are you, sir, I demand once more?” said he of the hungry look. “Who am I? why, who should I be but Jack Dale, who buys horses for himself and other folk; I want one at present for this short young gentleman,” said he, motioning with his finger to the gigantic youth. “Well, sir,” said the other, “and what business have you to interfere between me and any purchase I may be disposed to make?” “Well, then,” said the other, “be quick and purchase the horse, or, perhaps, I may.” “Do you think I am to be dictated to by a fellow of your description?” said his lordship; “begone, or—” “What do you ask for this horse?” said the other to me, very coolly. “A hundred and fifty,” said I. “I shouldn’t mind giving it to you,” said he. “You will do no such thing,” said his lordship, speaking so fast that he almost stuttered. “Sir,” said he to me, “I must give you what you ask; Symmonds, take possession of the animal for me,” said he to the other jockey who attended him. “You will please to do no such thing without my consent,” said I; “I have not sold him.” “I have this moment told you that I will give you the price you demand,” said his lordship; “is not that sufficient?” “No,” said I, “there is a proper manner of doing everything; had you come forward ina manly and gentlemanly manner to purchase the horse, I should have been happy to sell him to you, but after all the fault you have found with him, I would not sell him to you at any price, so send your friend to find up another.” “You behave in this manner, I suppose,” said his lordship, “because this fellow has expressed a willingness to come to your terms. I would advise you to be cautious how you trust the animal in his hands; I think I have seen him before and could tell you—” “What can you tell of me?” said the other, going up to him; “except that I have been a poor dicky-boy, and that now I am a dealer in horses, and that my father was lagged; that’s all you could tell of me, and that I don’t mind telling myself: but there are two things they can’t say of me, they can’t say that I am either a coward or a screw either, except so far as one who gets his bread by horses may be expected to be; and they can’t say of me that I ever ate up an ice which a young woman was waiting for, or that I ever backed out of a fight. Horse!” said he, motioning with his finger tauntingly to the other, “what do you want with a horse, except to take the bread out of the mouth of a poor man—to-morrow is not the battle of Waterloo, so that you don’t want to back out of danger, by pretending to have hurt yourself by falling from the creature’s back, my lord of the white feather; come, none of your fierce looks, I am not afraid of you.” In fact, the other had assumed an expression of the deadliest malice, his teeth were clenched, his lips quivered, and were quite pale; the rat-like eyes sparkled, and he made a half-spring,à la rat, towards his adversary, who only laughed. Restraining himself, however, he suddenly turned to his understrapper, saying: “Symmonds, will you see me thus insulted? go and trounce this scoundrel; you can, I know.” “Symmonds trounce me!” said the other, going up to the person addressed, and drawing his hand contemptuously over his face; “why, I beat Symmonds in this very yard in one round three years ago; didn’t I, Symmonds?” said he to the understrapper, who held down his head, muttering, in a surly tone, “I didn’t come here to fight; let every one take his own part.” “That’s right, Symmonds,” said the other, “especially every one from whom there is nothing to be got. I would give you half a crown for all the trouble you have had, provided I were not afraid that my Lord Plume there would get it from you as soon as you leave the yard together. Come, take yourselves both off; there’s nothing to be made here.” Indeed, his lordship seemed to be of the same opinion, for after a further glance at the horse, a contemptuous look at me, and a scowl atthe jockey, he turned on his heel, muttering something which sounded like fellows, and stalked out of the yard, followed by Symmonds.
“And now, young man,” said the jockey, or whatever he was, turning to me with an arch leer, “I suppose I may consider myself as the purchaser of this here animal, for the use and behoof of this young gentleman?” making a sign with his head towards the tall young man by his side. “By no means,” said I; “I am utterly unacquainted with either of you, and before parting with the horse, I must be satisfied as to the respectability of the purchaser.” “Oh! as to that matter,” said he, “I have plenty of vouchers for my respectability about me,” and thrusting his hand into his bosom below his waistcoat, he drew out a large bundle of notes. “These are the kind of things,” said he, “which vouch best for a man’s respectability.” “Not always,” said I; “indeed, sometimes these kind of things need vouchers for themselves.” The man looked at me with a peculiar look. “Do you mean to say that these notes are not sufficient notes?” said he, “because if you do, I shall take the liberty of thinking that you are not over civil, and when I thinks a person is not over and above civil I sometimes takes off my coat, and when my coat is off—” “You sometimes knock people down,” I added; “well, whether you knock me down or not, I beg leave to tell you that I am a stranger in this fair, and that I shall part with the horse to nobody who has no better guarantee for his respectability than a roll of bank-notes, which may be good or not for what I know, who am not a judge of such things.” “Oh! if you are a stranger here,” said the man, “as I believe you are, never having seen you here before except last night, when I think I saw you above stairs by the glimmer of a candle—I say, if you are a stranger, you are quite right to be cautious; queer things being done in this fair, as nobody knows better than myself,” he added with a leer; “but I suppose if the landlord of the house vouches for me and my notes, you will have no objection to part with the horse to me?” “None whatever,” said I, “and in the meantime the horse can return to the stable.”
Thereupon I delivered the horse to my friend the ostler. The landlord of the house on being questioned by me as to the character and condition of my new acquaintance, informed me that he was a respectable horsedealer, and an intimate friend of his, whereupon the purchase was soon brought to a satisfactory conclusion.
The Horse Fair, Horncastle
Itwas evening, and myself and the two acquaintances I had made in the fair—namely, the jockey and the tall foreigner—sat in a large upstairs room, which looked into a court; we had dined with several people connected with the fair at a longtable d’hôte; they had now departed, and we sat at a small side-table with wine and a candle before us; both my companions had pipes in their mouths—the jockey a common pipe, and the foreigner one, the syphon of which, made of some kind of wood, was at least six feet long, and the bowl of which, made of a white kind of substance like porcelain, and capable of holding nearly an ounce of tobacco, rested on the ground. The jockey frequently emptied and replenished his glass; the foreigner sometimes raised his to his lips, for no other purpose seemingly than to moisten them, as he never drained his glass. As for myself, though I did not smoke, I had a glass before me, from which I sometimes took a sip. The room, notwithstanding the window was flung open, was in general so filled with smoke, chiefly that which was drawn from the huge bowl of the foreigner, that my companions and I were frequently concealed from each other’s eyes. The conversation, which related entirely to the events of the fair, was carried on by the jockey and myself, the foreigner, who appeared to understand the greater part of what we said, occasionally putting in a few observations in broken English. At length the jockey, after the other had made some ineffectual attempts to express something intelligibly which he wished to say, observed: “Isn’t it a pity that so fine a fellow as meinheer, and so clever a fellow too, as I believe him to be, is not a little better master of our language?”
“Is the gentleman a German?” said I; “if so, I can interpret for him anything he wishes to say.”
“The deuce you can,” said the jockey, taking his pipe out of his mouth, and staring at me through the smoke.
“Ha! you speak German,” vociferated the foreigner in that language. “By Isten, I am glad of it! I wanted to say—” And here he said in German what he wished to say, and which was of no great importance, and which I translated into English.
“Well, if you don’t put me out,” said the jockey; “what language is that—Dutch?”
“High Dutch,” said I.
“High Dutch, and you speak High Dutch,—why I had booked you for as great an ignoramus as myself, who can’t write—no, nor distinguish in a book a great A from a bull’s foot.”
“A person may be a very clever man,” said I—“no, not a clever man, for clever signifies clerkly, and a clever man one who is able to read and write, and entitled to the benefit of his clergy or clerkship; but a person may be a very acute person without being able to read or write. I never saw a more acute countenance than your own.”
“No soft soap,” said the jockey, “for I never uses any. However, thank you for your information; I have hitherto thought myself a ’nition clever fellow, but from henceforth shall consider myself just the contrary, and only—what’s the word?—confounded ’cute.”
“Just so,” said I.
“Well,” said the jockey, “as you say you can speak High Dutch, I should like to hear you and master six foot six fire away at each other.”
“I cannot speak German,” said I, “but I can understand tolerably well what others say in it.”
“Come, no backing out,” said the jockey; “let’s hear you fire away for the glory of Old England.”
“Then you are a German?” said I in German to the foreigner.
“That will do,” said the jockey, “keep it up.”
“A German!” said the tall foreigner. “No, I thank God that I do not belong to the stupid, sluggish Germanic race, but to a braver, taller and handsomer people;” here taking the pipe out of his mouth, he stood up proudly erect, so that his head nearly touched the ceiling of the room, then reseating himself, and again putting the syphon to his lips, he added, “I am a Magyar”.
“What is that?” said I.
The foreigner looked at me for a moment somewhat contemptuously, through the smoke, then said, in a voice of thunder, “A Hungarian!”
“What a voice the chap has when he pleases!” interposed the jockey; “what is he saying?”
“Merely that he is a Hungarian,” said I; but I added, “the conversation of this gentleman and myself in a language which you can’t understand must be very tedious to you, we had better give it up.”
“Keep on with it,” said the jockey; “I shall go on listening very contentedly till I fall asleep, no bad thing to do at most times.”
“Thenyou are a countryman of Tekeli, and of the queen who made the celebrated water,” said I, speaking to the Hungarian in German, which I was able to do tolerably well owing to my having translated the publisher’s philosophy into that language, always provided I did not attempt to say much at a time.
Hungarian. Ah! you have heard of Tekeli, and of L’eau de la Reine d’Hongrie. How is that?
Myself. I have seen a play acted, founded on the exploits of Tekeli, and have read Pigault Le Brun’s beautiful romance, entitled theBarons of Felsheimin which he is mentioned. As for the water, I have heard a lady, the wife of a master of mine, speak of it.
Hungarian. Was she handsome?
Myself. Very.
Hungarian. Did she possess the water?
Myself. I should say not; for I have heard her express a great curiosity about it.
Hungarian. Was she growing old?
Myself. Of course not, but why do you put all these questions?
Hungarian. Because the water is said to make people handsome, and above all, to restore to the aged the beauty of their youth. Well! Tekeli was my countryman, and I have the honour of having some of the blood of the Tekelis in my veins, but with respect to the queen, pardon me if I tell you that she was not an Hungarian; she was a Pole—Ersebet by name, daughter of Wladislaus Locticus King of Poland; she was the fourth spouse of Caroly the Second, King of the Magyar country, who married her in 1320. She was a great woman and celebrated politician, though at present chiefly known by her water.
Myself. How came she to invent it?
Hungarian. If her own account may be believed, she did not invent it. After her death, as I have read in Florentius of Buda, there was found a statement of the manner in which she came by it written in her own hand, on a fly-leaf of her breviary, to thefollowing effect: Being afflicted with a grievous disorder at the age of seventy-two, she received the medicine which was called her water, from an old hermit whom she never saw before or afterwards; it not only cured her, but restored to her all her former beauty, so that the King of Poland fell in love with her, and made her an offer of marriage, which she refused for the glory of God, from whose holy angel she believed she had received the water. The receipt for making it and directions for using it, were also found on the fly-leaf. The principal component parts were burnt wine and rosemary, passed through an alembic; a drachm of it was to be taken once a week, “etelbenn vagy italbann,” in the food or the drink, early in the morning, and the cheeks were to be moistened with it every day. The effects, according to the statement, were wonderful—and perhaps they were upon the queen; but whether the water has been equally efficacious on other people, is a point which I cannot determine. I should wish to see some old woman who has been restored to youthful beauty by the use of L’eau de la Reine d’Hongrie.
Myself. Perhaps, if you did, the old gentlewoman would hardly be so ingenuous as the queen. But who are the Hungarians—descendants of Attila and his people?
The Hungarian shook his head, and gave me to understand that he did not believe that his nation were the descendants of Attila and his people, though he acknowledged that they were probably of the same race. Attila and his armies, he said, came and disappeared in a very mysterious manner, and that nothing could be said with positiveness about them; that the people now known as Magyars first made their appearance in Muscovy in the year 884, under the leadership of Almus, called so fromalom, which, in the Hungarian language, signifies a dream; his mother, before his birth, having dreamt that the child with which she wasenceintewould be the father of a long succession of kings, which, in fact, was the case; that after beating the Russians he entered Hungary, and coming to a place called Ungvar, from which many people believed that modern Hungary derived its name, he captured it, and held in it a grand festival, which lasted four days, at the end of which time he resigned the leadership of the Magyars to his son Arpad. This Arpad and his Magyars utterly subdued Pannonia—that is, Hungary and Transylvania—wresting the government of it from the Sclavonian tribes who inhabited it, and settling down amongst them as conquerors! After giving me this information, the Hungarian exclaimed with much animation: “A goodly country that which they had entered on, consisting ofa plain surrounded by mountains, some of which intersect it here and there, with noble rapid rivers, the grandest of which is the mighty Dunau; a country with tiny volcanoes, casting up puffs of smoke and steam, and from which hot springs arise, good for the sick; with many fountains, some of which are so pleasant to the taste as to be preferred to wine; with a generous soil which, warmed by a beautiful sun, is able to produce corn, grapes, and even the Indian weed; in fact, one of the finest countries in the world, which even a Spaniard would pronounce to be nearly equal to Spain. Here they rested, meditating, however, fresh conquests. Oh, the Magyars soon showed themselves a mighty people. Besides Hungary and Transylvania, they subdued Bulgaria and Bosnia, and the land of Tot, now called Sclavonia. The generals of Zoltan, the son of Arpad, led troops of horsemen to the banks of the Rhine. One of them, at the head of a host, besieged Constantinople. It was then that Botond engaged in combat with a Greek of gigantic stature, who came out of the city and challenged the two best men in the Magyar army. ‘I am the feeblest of the Magyars,’ said Botond, ‘but I will kill thee;’ and he performed his word, having previously given a proof of the feebleness of his arm by striking his battle-axe through the brazen gate, making a hole so big that a child of five years old could walk through it.”
Myself. Of what religion were the old Hungarians?
Hungarian. They had some idea of a Supreme Being, whom they calledIsten, which word is still used by the Magyars for God; but their chief devotion was directed to sorcerers and soothsayers, something like the Schamans of the Siberian steppes. They were converted to Christianity chiefly through the instrumentality of Istvan or Stephen, called after his death St. Istvan, who ascended the throne in the year one thousand. He was born in heathenesse, and his original name was Vojk: he was the firstkiraly, or king, of the Magyars. Their former leaders had been calledfejedelmek, or dukes. The Magyar language has properly no term either for king or house.Kiralyis a word derived from the Sclaves;haz, or house, from the Germans, who first taught them to build houses, their original dwellings having been tilted waggons.
Myself. Many thanks for your account of the great men of your country.
Hungarian. The great men of my country! I have only told you of the— Well, I acknowledge that Almus and Arpad were great men, but Hungary has produced many greater; I willnot trouble you by recapitulating all, but there is one name I cannot forbear mentioning—but you have heard of it—even at Horncastle the name of Hunyadi must be familiar.
Myself. It may be so, though I rather doubt it; but, however that may be, I confess my ignorance. I have never, until this moment, heard the name of Hunyadi.
Hungarian. Not of Hunyadi Janos, not of Hunyadi John—for the genius of our language compels us to put a man’s Christian name after his other; perhaps you have heard of the name of Corvinus?
Myself. Yes, I have heard of the name of Corvinus.
Hungarian. By my God, I am glad of it; I thought our hammer of destruction, our thunderbolt, whom the Greeks called Achilles, must be known to the people of Horncastle. Well, Hunyadi and Corvinus are the same.
Myself. Corvinus means the man of the crow, or raven. I suppose that your John, when a boy, climbed up to a crow or a raven’s nest, and stole the young; a bold feat, well befitting a young hero.
Hungarian. By Isten, you are an acute guesser; a robbery there was, but it was not Hunyadi who robbed the raven, but the raven who robbed Hunyadi.
Myself. How was that?
Hungarian. In this manner: Hunyadi, according to tradition, was the son of King Sigmond, by a peasant’s daughter. The king saw and fell in love with her, whilst marching against the vaivode of Wallachia. He had some difficulty in persuading her to consent to his wishes, and she only yielded at last on the king making her a solemn promise that, in the event of her becoming with child by him, he would handsomely provide for her and the infant. The king proceeded on his expedition, and on his returning in triumph from Wallachia, he again saw the girl, who informed him that she wasenceinteby him; the king was delighted with the intelligence, gave the girl money, and at the same time a ring, requesting her, if she brought forth a son, to bring the ring to Buda with the child, and present it to him. When her time was up, the peasant’s daughter brought forth a fair son, who was baptised by the name of John. After some time the young woman communicated the whole affair to her elder brother, whose name was Gaspar, and begged him to convey her and the child to the king at Buda. The brother consented, and both set out, taking the child with them. On their way, the woman, wanting to wash her clothes, laid the child down, giving it the king’s ringto play with. A raven, who saw the glittering ring, came flying, and plucking it out of the child’s hand, carried it up into a tree; the child suddenly began to cry, and the mother, hearing it, left her washing, and running to the child, forthwith missed the ring, but hearing the raven croak in the tree, she lifted up her eyes, and saw it with the ring in its beak. The woman, in great terror, called her brother, and told him what had happened, adding, that she durst not approach the king if the raven took away the ring. Gaspar, seizing his cross-bow and quiver, ran to the tree, where the raven was yet with the ring, and discharged an arrow at it, but, being in a great hurry, he missed it; with his second shot he was more lucky, for he hit the raven in the breast, which, together with the ring, fell to the ground. Taking up the ring, they went on their way, and shortly arrived at Buda. One day, as the king was walking after dinner in his outer hall, the woman appeared before him with the child, and, showing him the ring, said: “Mighty lord! behold this token! and take pity upon me and your own son”. King Sigmond took the child and kissed it, and, after a pause said to the mother: “You have done right in bringing me the boy; I will take care of you, and make him a nobleman”. The king was as good as his word; he provided for the mother, caused the boy to be instructed in knightly exercises, and made him a present of the town of Hunyad, in Transylvania, on which account he was afterwards called Hunyadi, and gave him, as an armorial sign, a raven bearing a ring in his beak.
Such, oh young man of Horncastle! is the popular account of the birth of the great captain of Hungary, as related by Florentius of Buda. There are other accounts of his birth, which is, indeed, involved in much mystery, and of the reason of his being called Corvinus, but as this is the most pleasing, and is, upon the whole, founded on quite as good evidence as the others, I have selected it for recitation.
Myself. I heartily thank you; but you must tell me something more of Hunyadi. You call him your great captain; what did he do?
Hungarian. Do! what no other man of his day could have done. He broke the power of the Turk when he was coming to overwhelm Europe. From the blows inflicted by Hunyadi, the Turk never thoroughly recovered; he has been frequently worsted in latter times, but none but Hunyadi could have routed the armies of Amurath and Mahomed the Second.
Myself. How was it that he had an opportunity of displaying his military genius?
Hungarian. I can hardly tell you, but his valour soon made him famous; King Albert made him Ban of Szorenyi. He became eventually waivode of Transylvania, and governor of Hungary. His first grand action was the defeat of Bashaw Isack; and though himself surprised and routed at St. Imre, he speedily regained his prestige by defeating the Turks, with enormous slaughter, killing their leader, Mezerbeg; and subsequently, at the battle of the Iron Gates, he destroyed ninety thousand Turks, sent by Amurath to avenge the late disgrace. It was then that the Greeks called him Achilles.
Myself. He was not always successful.
Hungarian. Who could be always successful against the early Turk? He was defeated in the battle in which King Vladislaus lost his life, but his victories outnumbered his defeats three-fold. His grandest victory—perhaps the grandest ever achieved by man—was over the terrible Mahomed the Second; who, after the taking of Constantinople in 1453, said: “One God in Heaven—one king on earth”; and marched to besiege Belgrade at the head of one hundred and fifty thousand men; swearing by the beard of the prophet, “That he would sup within it ere two months were elapsed”. He brought with him dogs, to eat the bodies of the Christians whom he should take or slay; so says Florentius; hear what he also says: The Turk sat down before the town towards the end of June, 1454, covering the Dunau and Szava with ships: and on the 4th of July he began to cannonade Belgrade with cannons twenty-five feet long, whose roar could be heard at Szeged, a distance of twenty-four leagues, at which place Hunyadi had assembled his forces. Hunyadi had been able to raise only fifteen thousand of well-armed and disciplined men, though he had with him vast bands of people, who called themselves Soldiers of the Cross, but who consisted of inexperienced lads from school, peasants and hermits, armed with swords, slings and clubs. Hunyadi, undismayed by the great disparity between his forces and those of the Turk, advanced to relieve Belgrade, and encamped at Szalankemen with his army. There he saw at once that his first step must be to attack the flotilla; he therefore privately informed Szilagy, his wife’s brother, who at that time defended Belgrade, that it was his intention to attack the ships of the Turks on the 14th day of July in front, and requested his co-operation in the rear. On the 14th came on the commencement of the great battle of Belgrade, between Hunyadi and the Turk. Many days it lasted.
Myself. Describe it.
Hungarian. I cannot. One has described it well—Florentius of Buda. I can only repeat a few of his words: “On the appointed day, Hunyadi, with two hundred vessels, attacked the Turkish flotilla in front, whilst Szilagy, with forty vessels, filled with the men of Belgrade, assailed it in the rear; striving for the same object, they sunk many of the Turkish vessels, captured seventy-four, burnt many, and utterly annihilated the whole fleet. After this victory, Hunyadi, with his army entered Belgrade, to the great joy of the Magyars. But though the force of Mahomed upon the water was destroyed, that upon the land remained entire; and with this, during six days and nights, he attacked the city without intermission, destroying its walls in many parts. His last and most desperate assault was made on the 21st day of July. Twice did the Turks gain possession of the outer town, and twice was it retaken with indescribable slaughter. The next day the combat raged without ceasing till midday, when the Turks were again beaten out of the town, and pursued by the Magyars to their camp. There the combat was renewed, both sides displaying the greatest obstinacy until Mahomed received a great wound over his left eye. The Turks then, turning their faces, fled, leaving behind them three hundred cannon in the hands of the Christians, and more than twenty-four thousand slain on the field of battle.”
Myself. After that battle, I suppose Hunyadi enjoyed his triumphs in peace?
Hungarian. In the deepest, for he shortly died. His great soul quitted his body, which was exhausted by almost superhuman exertions, on the 11th of August, 1456. Shortly before he died, according to Florentius, a comet appeared, sent, as it would seem, to announce his coming end. The whole Christian world mourned his loss. The Pope ordered the cardinals to perform a funeral ceremony at Rome in his honour. His great enemy himself grieved for him, and pronounced his finest eulogium. When Mahomed the Second heard of his death, he struck his head for some time against the ground without speaking. Suddenly he broke silence with these words: “Notwithstanding he was my enemy, yet do I bewail his loss; since the sun has shone in heaven, no Prince had ever yet such a man”.
Myself. What was the name of his Prince?
Hungarian. Laszlo the Fifth; who, though under infinite obligations to Hunyadi, was anything but grateful to him; for he once consented to a plan which was laid to assassinate him, contrived by his mortal enemy Ulrik, Count of Cilejia; and after Hunyadi’s death, caused his eldest son Hunyadi Laszlo, to beexecuted on a false accusation, and imprisoned his younger son, Matyas, who, on the death of Laszlo, was elected by the Magyars to be their king, on the 24th of January, 1458.
Myself. Was this Matyas a good king?
Hungarian. Was Matyas Corvinus a good king? O young man of Horncastle! he was the best and greatest that Hungary ever possessed, and, after his father, the most renowned warrior—some of our best laws were framed by him. It was he who organised the Hussar force, and it was he who took Vienna. Why does your Government always send fools to represent it at Vienna?