"He is a wonderful writer--one _sui generis_--uniting the perspicuity of the English--for we are perspicuous--with the cool dispa.s.sionate reasoning of the Germans. Gibbon sought after the truth, found it, and made it clear."

"Then you think Gibbon a truthful writer?"

"Why, yes; who shall convict Gibbon of falsehood? Many people have endeavoured to convict Gibbon of falsehood; they have followed him in his researches, and have never found him once tripping. Oh, he is a wonderful writer! his power of condensation is admirable; the lore of the whole world is to be found in his pages. Sometimes in a single note, he has given us the result of the study of years; or, to speak metaphorically, 'he has ransacked a thousand Gulistans, and has condensed all his fragrant booty into a single drop of otto.'"

"But was not Gibbon an enemy to the Christian faith?"

"Why, no; he was rather an enemy to priestcraft, so am I; and when I say the philosophy of the Bible is in many respects unsound, I always wish to make an exception in favour of that part of it which contains the life and sayings of Jesus of Bethlehem, to which I must always concede my unqualified admiration--of Jesus, mind you; for with his followers and their dogmas I have nothing to do. Of all historic characters Jesus is the most beautiful and the most heroic. I have always been a friend to hero-worship, it is the only rational one, and has always been in use amongst civilised people--the worship of spirits is synonymous with barbarism--it is mere fetish; the savages of West Africa are all spirit worshippers. But there is something philosophic in the worship of the heroes of the human race, and the true hero is the benefactor. Brahma, Jupiter, Bacchus, were all benefactors, and, therefore, ent.i.tled to the worship of their respective peoples. The Celts worshipped Hesus, who taught them to plough, a highly useful art. We, who have attained a much higher state of civilisation than the Celts ever did, worship Jesus, the first who endeavoured to teach men to behave decently and decorously under all circ.u.mstances; who was the foe of vengeance, in which there is something highly indecorous; who had first the courage to lift his voice against that violent dogma, 'an eye for an eye'; who shouted conquer, but conquer with kindness; who said put up the sword, a violent unphilosophic weapon; and who finally died calmly and decorously in defence of his philosophy. He must be a savage who denies worship to the hero of Golgotha."

"But He was something more than a hero; He was the Son of G.o.d, wasn't He?"

The elderly individual made no immediate answer; but, after a few more whiffs from his pipe, exclaimed, "Come, fill your gla.s.s! How do you advance with your translation of Tell?"

"It is nearly finished; but I do not think I shall proceed with it; I begin to think the original somewhat dull."

"There you are wrong; it is the masterpiece of Schiller, the first of German poets."

"It may be so," said the youth. "But, pray excuse me, I do not think very highly of German poetry. I have lately been reading Shakespeare; and, when I turn from him to the Germans--even the best of them--they appear mere pigmies. You will pardon the liberty I perhaps take in saying so."

"I like that every one should have an opinion of his own," said the elderly individual; "and, what is more, declare it. Nothing displeases me more than to see people a.s.senting to everything that they hear said; I at once come to the conclusion that they are either hypocrites, or there is nothing in them. But, with respect to Shakespeare, whom I have not read for thirty years, is he not rather given to bombast, 'crackling bombast,' as I think I have said in one of my essays?"

"I dare say he is," said the youth; "but I can't help thinking him the greatest of all poets, not even excepting Homer. I would sooner have written that series of plays, founded on the fortunes of the House of Lancaster, than the Iliad itself. The events described are as lofty as those sung by Homer in his great work, and the characters brought upon the stage still more interesting. I think Hotspur as much of a hero as Hector, and young Henry more of a man than Achilles; and then there is the fat knight, the quintessence of fun, wit, and rascality. Falstaff is a creation beyond the genius even of Homer."

"You almost tempt me to read Shakespeare again--but the Germans?"

"I don't admire the Germans," said the youth, somewhat excited. "I don't admire them in any point of view. I have heard my father say that, though good sharpshooters, they can't be much depended upon as soldiers; and that old Sergeant Meredith told him that Minden would never have been won but for the two English regiments, who charged the French with fixed bayonets, and sent them to the right-about in double-quick time. With respect to poetry, setting Shakespeare and the English altogether aside, I think there is another Gothic nation, at least, ent.i.tled to dispute with them the palm. Indeed, to my mind, there is more genuine poetry contained in the old Danish book which I came so strangely by, than has been produced in Germany from the period of the Niebelungen lay to the present."

"Ah, the Koempe Viser?" said the elderly individual, breathing forth an immense volume of smoke, which he had been collecting during the declamation of his young companion. "There are singular things in that book, I must confess; and I thank you for showing it to me, or rather your attempt at translation. I was struck with that ballad of Orm Ungarswayne, who goes by night to the grave-hill of his father to seek for counsel. And then, again, that strange melancholy Swayne Vonved, who roams about the world propounding people riddles; slaying those who cannot answer, and rewarding those who can with golden bracelets. Were it not for the violence, I should say that ballad has a philosophic tendency. I thank you for making me acquainted with the book, and I thank the Jew Mousha for making me acquainted with you."

"That Mousha was a strange customer," said the youth, collecting himself.

"He _was_ a strange customer," said the elder individual, breathing forth a gentle cloud. "I love to exercise hospitality to wandering strangers, especially foreigners; and when he came to this place, pretending to teach German and Hebrew, I asked him to dinner. After the first dinner, he asked me to lend him five pounds; I _did_ lend him five pounds. After the fifth dinner, he asked me to lend him fifty pounds; I did _not_ lend him the fifty pounds."

"He was as ignorant of German as of Hebrew," said the youth; "on which account he was soon glad, I suppose, to transfer his pupil to some one else."

"He told me," said the elder individual, "that he intended to leave a town where he did not find sufficient encouragement; and, at the same time, expressed regret at being obliged to abandon a certain extraordinary pupil, for whom he had a particular regard. Now I, who have taught many people German from the love which I bear to it, and the desire which I feel that it should be generally diffused, instantly said, that I should be happy to take his pupil off his hands, and afford him what instruction I could in German, for, as to Hebrew, I have never taken much interest in it. Such was the origin of our acquaintance. You have been an apt scholar. Of late, however, I have seen little of you--what is the reason?"

The youth made no answer.

"You think, probably, that you have learned all I can teach you? Well, perhaps you are right."

"Not so, not so," said the young man, eagerly; "before I knew you I knew nothing, and am still very ignorant; but of late my father's health has been very much broken, and he requires attention; his spirits also have become low, which, to tell you the truth, he attributes to my misconduct.

He says that I have imbibed all kinds of strange notions and doctrines, which will, in all probability, prove my ruin, both here and hereafter; which--which--"

"Ah! I understand," said the elder, with another calm whiff. "I have always had a kind of respect for your father, for there is something remarkable in his appearance, something heroic, and I would fain have cultivated his acquaintance; the feeling, however, has not been reciprocated. I met him, the other day, up the road, with his cane and dog, and saluted him; he did not return my salutation."

"He has certain opinions of his own," said the youth, "which are widely different from those which he has heard that you profess."

"I respect a man for entertaining an opinion of his own," said the elderly individual. "I hold certain opinions; but I should not respect an individual the more for adopting them. All I wish for is tolerance, which I myself endeavour to practise. I have always loved the truth, and sought it; if I have not found it, the greater my misfortune."

"Are you happy?" said the young man.

"Why, no! And, between ourselves, it is that which induces me to doubt sometimes the truth of my opinions. My life, upon the whole, I consider a failure; on which account, I would not counsel you, or any one, to follow my example too closely. It is getting late, and you had better be going, especially as your father, you say, is anxious about you. But, as we may never meet again, I think there are three things which I may safely venture to press upon you. The first is, that the decencies and gentlenesses should never be lost sight of, as the practice of the decencies and gentlenesses is at all times compatible with independence of thought and action. The second thing which I would wish to impress upon you, is, that there is always some eye upon us; and that it is impossible to keep anything we do from the world, as it will a.s.suredly be divulged by somebody as soon as it is his interest to do so. The third thing which I would wish to press upon you--"

"Yes," said the youth, eagerly bending forward.

"Is"--and here the elderly individual laid down his pipe upon the table--"that it will be as well to go on improving yourself in German!"

CHAPTER XXIV

The Alehouse Keeper--Compa.s.sion for the Rich--Old English Gentleman--How is This?--Madeira--The Greek Parr--Twenty Languages--Whiter's Health--About the Fight--A Sporting Gentleman--The Flattened Nose--Lend us that Pightle--The Surly Nod.

"Holloa, master! can you tell us where the fight is likely to be?"

Such were the words shouted out to me by a short thick fellow, in brown top-boots, and bareheaded, who stood, with his hands in his pockets, at the door of a country alehouse as I was pa.s.sing by.

Now, as I knew nothing about the fight, and as the appearance of the man did not tempt me greatly to enter into conversation with him, I merely answered in the negative, and continued my way.

It was a fine lovely morning in May, the sun shone bright above, and the birds were carolling in the hedge-rows. I was wont to be cheerful at such seasons, for, from my earliest recollection, sunshine and the song of birds have been dear to me; yet, about that period, I was not cheerful, my mind was not at rest; I was debating within myself, and the debate was dreary and unsatisfactory enough. I sighed, and turning my eyes upward, I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "What is truth?" But suddenly, by a violent effort breaking away from my meditations, I hastened forward; one mile, two miles, three miles were speedily left behind; and now I came to a grove of birch and other trees, and opening a gate I pa.s.sed up a kind of avenue, and soon arriving before a large brick house, of rather antique appearance, knocked at the door.

In this house there lived a gentleman with whom I had business. He was said to be a genuine old English gentleman, and a man of considerable property; at this time, however, he wanted a thousand pounds, as gentlemen of considerable property every now and then do. I had brought him a thousand pounds in my pocket, for it is astonishing how many eager helpers the rich find, and with what compa.s.sion people look upon their distresses. He was said to have good wine in his cellar.

"Is your master at home?" said I, to a servant who appeared at the door.

"His worship is at home, young man," said the servant, as he looked at my shoes, which bore evidence that I had come walking. "I beg your pardon, sir," he added, as he looked me in the face.

"Ay, ay, servants," thought I, as I followed the man into the house, "always look people in the face when you open the door, and do so before you look at their shoes, or you may mistake the heir of a Prime Minister for a shopkeeper's son."

I found his worship a jolly, red-faced gentleman, of about fifty-five; he was dressed in a green coat, white corduroy breeches, and drab gaiters, and sat on an old-fashioned leather sofa, with two small, thorough-bred, black English terriers, one on each side of him. He had all the appearance of a genuine old English gentleman who kept good wine in his cellar.

"Sir," said I, "I have brought you a thousand pounds;" and I said this after the servant had retired, and the two terriers had ceased the barking which is natural to all such dogs at the sight of a stranger.

And when the magistrate had received the money, and signed and returned a certain paper which I handed to him, he rubbed his hands, and looking very benignantly at me, exclaimed--

"And now, young gentleman, that our business is over, perhaps you can tell me where the fight is to take place?"

"I am sorry, sir," said I, "that I can't inform you, but everybody seems to be anxious about it;" and then I told him what had occurred to me on the road with the alehouse keeper.

"I know him," said his worship; "he's a tenant of mine, and a good fellow, somewhat too much in my debt though. But how is this, young gentleman? you look as if you had been walking; you did not come on foot?"

"Yes, sir, I came on foot."

"On foot! why, it is sixteen miles."