CHAPTER XII

The Dingle at Night--The Two Sides of the Question--Roman Females--Filling

the Kettle--The Dream--The Tall Figure.

I descended to the bottom of the dingle. It was nearly involved in

obscurity. To dissipate the feeling of melancholy which came over my

mind, I resolved to kindle a fire; and having heaped dry sticks upon my

hearth, and added a billet or two, I struck a light, and soon produced a

blaze. Sitting down, I fixed my eyes upon the blaze, and soon fell into

a deep meditation. I thought of the events of the day, the scene at

church, and what I had heard at church, the danger of losing one's soul,

the doubts of Jasper Petulengro as to whether one had a soul. I thought

over the various arguments which I had either heard, or which had come

spontaneously to my mind, for or against the probability of a state of

future existence. They appeared to me to be tolerably evenly balanced. I

then thought that it was at all events taking the safest part to conclude

that there was a soul. It would be a terrible thing, after having passed

one's life in the disbelief of the existence of a soul, to wake up after

death a soul, and to find one's self a lost soul. Yes, methought I would

come to the conclusion that one has a soul. Choosing the safe side,

however, appeared to me to be playing a rather dastardly part. I had

never been an admirer of people who chose the safe side in everything;

indeed I had always entertained a thorough contempt for them. Surely it

would be showing more manhood to adopt the dangerous side, that of

disbelief; I almost resolved to do so--but yet in a question of so much

importance, I ought not to be guided by vanity. The question was not

which was the safe, but the true side? yet how was I to know which was

the true side? Then I thought of the Bible--which I had been reading in

the morning--that spoke of the soul and a future state; but was the Bible

true? I had heard learned and moral men say that it was true, but I had

also heard learned and moral men say that it was not: how was I to

decide? Still that balance of probabilities! If I could but see the way

of truth, I would follow it, if necessary, upon hands and knees; on that

I was determined; but I could not see it. Feeling my brain begin to turn

round, I resolved to think of something else; and forthwith began to

think of what had passed between Ursula and myself in our discourse

beneath the hedge.

I mused deeply on what she had told me as to the virtue of the females of

her race. How singular that virtue must be which was kept pure and

immaculate by the possessor, whilst indulging in habits of falsehood and

dishonesty! I had always thought the gypsy females extraordinary beings.

I had often wondered at them, their dress, their manner of speaking, and,

not least, at their names; but, until the present day, I had been

unacquainted with the most extraordinary point connected with them. How

came they possessed of this extraordinary virtue? was it because they

were thievish? I remembered that an ancient thief-taker, who had retired

from his useful calling, and who frequently visited the office of my

master at law, the respectable S---, who had the management of his

property--I remembered to have heard this worthy, with whom I

occasionally held discourse, philosophic and profound, when he and I

chanced to be alone together in the office, say that all first-rate

thieves were sober, and of well-regulated morals, their bodily passions

being kept in abeyance by their love of gain; but this axiom could

scarcely hold good with respect to these women--however thievish they

might be, they did care for something besides gain: they cared for their

husbands. If they did thieve, they merely thieved for their husbands;

and though, perhaps, some of them were vain, they merely prized their

beauty because it gave them favour in the eyes of their husbands.

Whatever the husbands were--and Jasper had almost insinuated that the

males occasionally allowed themselves some latitude--they appeared to be

as faithful to their husbands as the ancient Roman matrons were to

theirs. Roman matrons! and, after all, might not these be in reality

Roman matrons? They called themselves Romans; might not they be the

descendants of the old Roman matrons? Might not they be of the same

blood as Lucretia? And were not many of their strange names--Lucretia

amongst the rest--handed down to them from old Rome? It is true their

language was not that of old Rome; it was not, however, altogether

different from it. After all, the ancient Romans might be a tribe of

these people, who settled down and founded a village with the tilts of

carts, which, by degrees, and the influx of other people, became the

grand city of the world. I liked the idea of the grand city of the world

owing its origin to a people who had been in the habit of carrying their

houses in their carts. Why, after all, should not the Romans of history

be a branch of these Romans? There were several points of similarity

between them; if Roman matrons were chaste, both men and women were

thieves. Old Rome was the thief of the world; yet still there were

difficulties to be removed before I could persuade myself that the old

Romans and my Romans were identical; and in trying to remove these

difficulties, I felt my brain once more beginning to turn, and in haste

took up another subject of meditation, and that was the patteran, and

what Ursula had told me about it.

I had always entertained a strange interest for that sign by which in

their wanderings the Romanese gave to those of their people who came

behind intimation as to the direction which they took; but it now

inspired me with greater interest than ever,--now that I had learnt that

the proper meaning of it was the leaves of trees. I had, as I had said

in my dialogue with Ursula, been very eager to learn the word for leaf in

the Romanian language, but had never learnt it till this day; so patteran

signified leaf of a tree; and no one at present knew that but myself and

Ursula, who had learnt it from Mrs. Herne, the last, it was said, of the

old stock; and then I thought what strange people the gypsies must have

been in the old time. They were sufficiently strange at present, but

they must have been far stranger of old; they must have been a more

peculiar people--their language must have been more perfect--and they

must have had a greater stock of strange secrets. I almost wished that I

had lived some two or three hundred years ago, that I might have observed

these people when they were yet stranger than at present. I wondered

whether I could have introduced myself to their company at that period,

whether I should have been so fortunate as to meet such a strange, half-

malicious, half good-humoured being as Jasper, who would have instructed

me in the language, then more deserving of note than at present. What

might I not have done with that language, had I known it in its purity?

Why, I might have written books in it; yet those who spoke it would

hardly have admitted me to their society at that period, when they kept

more to themselves. Yet I thought that I might possibly have gained

their confidence, and have wandered about with them, and learnt their

language, and all their strange ways, and then--and then--and a sigh rose

from the depth of my breast; for I began to think, "Supposing I had

accomplished all this, what would have been the profit of it; and in what

would all this wild gypsy dream have terminated?"

Then rose another sigh, yet more profound, for I began to think, "What

was likely to be the profit of my present way of life; the living in

dingles, making pony and donkey shoes, conversing with gypsy-women under

hedges, and extracting from them their odd secrets?" What was likely to

be the profit of such a kind of life, even should it continue for a

length of time?--a supposition not very probable, for I was earning

nothing to support me, and the funds with which I had entered upon this

life were gradually disappearing. I was living, it is true, not

unpleasantly, enjoying the healthy air of heaven; but, upon the whole,

was I not sadly misspending my time? Surely I was; and, as I looked

back, it appeared to me that I had always been doing so. What had been

the profit of the tongues which I had learnt? had they ever assisted me

in the day of hunger? No, no! it appeared to me that I had always

misspent my time, save in one instance, when by a desperate effort I had

collected all the powers of my imagination, and written the "Life of

Joseph Sell;" but even when I wrote the Life of Sell, was I not in a

false position? Provided I had not misspent my time, would it have been

necessary to make that effort, which, after all, had only enabled me to

leave London, and wander about the country for a time? But could I,

taking all circumstances into consideration, have done better than I had?

With my peculiar temperament and ideas, could I have pursued with

advantage the profession to which my respectable parents had endeavoured

to bring me up? It appeared to me that I could not, and that the hand of

necessity had guided me from my earliest years, until the present night,

in which I found myself seated in the dingle, staring on the brands of

the fire. But ceasing to think of the past which, as irrecoverably gone,

it was useless to regret, even were there cause to regret it, what should

I do in future? Should I write another book like the Life of Joseph

Sell; take it to London, and offer it to a publisher? But when I

reflected on the grisly sufferings which I had undergone whilst engaged

in writing the Life of Sell, I shrank from the idea of a similar attempt;

moreover, I doubted whether I possessed the power to write a similar

work--whether the materials for the life of another Sell lurked within

the recesses of my brain? Had I not better become in reality what I had

hitherto been merely playing at--a tinker or a gypsy? But I soon saw

that I was not fitted to become either in reality. It was much more

agreeable to play the gypsy or the tinker than to become either in

reality. I had seen enough of gypsying and tinkering to be convinced of

that. All of a sudden the idea of tilling the soil came into my head;

tilling the soil was a healthful and noble pursuit! but my idea of

tilling the soil had no connection with Britain; for I could only expect

to till the soil in Britain as a serf. I thought of tilling it in

America, in which it was said there was plenty of wild, unclaimed land,

of which any one, who chose to clear it of its trees, might take

possession. I figured myself in America, in an immense forest, clearing

the land destined, by my exertions, to become a fruitful and smiling

plain. Methought I heard the crash of the huge trees as they fell

beneath my axe; and then I bethought me that a man was intended to

marry--I ought to marry; and if I married, where was I likely to be more

happy as a husband and a father than in America, engaged in tilling the

ground? I fancied myself in America, engaged in tilling the ground,

assisted by an enormous progeny. Well, why not marry, and go and till

the ground in America? I was young, and youth was the time to marry in,

and to labour in. I had the use of all my faculties; my eyes, it is

true, were rather dull from early study, and from writing the Life of

Joseph Sell; but I could see tolerably well with them, and they were not

bleared. I felt my arms, and thighs, and teeth--they were strong and

sound enough; so now was the time to labour, to marry, eat strong flesh,

and beget strong children--the power of doing all this would pass away

with youth, which was terribly transitory. I bethought me that a time

would come when my eyes would be bleared, and, perhaps, sightless; my

arms and thighs strengthless and sapless; when my teeth would shake in my

jaws, even supposing they did not drop out. No going a wooing then--no

labouring--no eating strong flesh, and begetting lusty children then; and

I bethought me how, when all this should be, I should bewail the days of

my youth as misspent, provided I had not in them founded for myself a

home, and begotten strong children to take care of me in the days when I

could not take care of myself; and thinking of these things, I became

sadder and sadder, and stared vacantly upon the fire till my eyes closed

in a doze.

I continued dozing over the fire, until rousing myself I perceived that

the brands were nearly consumed, and I thought of retiring for the night.

I arose, and was about to enter my tent, when a thought struck me.

"Suppose," thought I, "that Isopel Berners should return in the midst of

the night, how dark and dreary would the dingle appear without a fire!

truly, I will keep up the fire, and I will do more; I have no board to

spread for her, but I will fill the kettle, and heat it, so that, if she

comes, I may be able to welcome her with a cup of tea, for I know she

loves tea." Thereupon, I piled more wood upon the fire, and soon

succeeded in procuring a better blaze than before; then, taking the

kettle, I set out for the spring. On arriving at the mouth of the

dingle, which fronted the east, I perceived that Charles's wain was

nearly opposite to it, high above in the heavens, by which I knew that

the night was tolerably well advanced. The gypsy encampment lay before

me; all was hushed and still within it, and its inmates appeared to be

locked in slumber; as I advanced, however, the dogs, which were fastened

outside the tents, growled and barked; but presently recognising me, they

were again silent, some of them wagging their tails. As I drew near a

particular tent, I heard a female voice say--"Some one is coming!" and,

as I was about to pass it, the cloth which formed the door was suddenly

lifted up, and a black head and part of a huge naked body protruded. It

was the head and upper part of the giant Tawno, who, according to the

fashion of gypsy men, lay next the door wrapped in his blanket; the

blanket had, however, fallen off, and the starlight shone clear on his

athletic tawny body, and was reflected from his large staring eyes.

"It is only I, Tawno," said I, "going to fill the kettle, as it is

possible that Miss Berners may arrive this night." "Kos-ko," drawled out

Tawno, and replaced the curtain. "Good, do you call it?" said the sharp

voice of his wife; "there is no good in the matter! if that young chap

were not living with the rawnee in the illegal and uncertificated line,

he would not be getting up in the middle of the night to fill her

kettles." Passing on, I proceeded to the spring, where I filled the

kettle, and then returned to the dingle.

Placing the kettle upon the fire, I watched it till it began to boil;

then removing it from the top of the brands, I placed it close beside the

fire, and leaving it simmering, I retired to my tent; where, having taken

off my shoes, and a few of my garments, I lay down on my palliasse, and

was not long in falling asleep. I believe I slept soundly for some time,

thinking and dreaming of nothing; suddenly, however, my sleep became

disturbed, and the subject of the patterans began to occupy my brain. I

imagined that I saw Ursula tracing her husband, Launcelot Lovel, by means

of his patterans; I imagined that she had considerable difficulty in

doing so; that she was occasionally interrupted by parish beadles and

constables, who asked her whither she was travelling, to whom she gave

various answers. Presently methought that, as she was passing by a farm-

yard, two fierce and savage dogs flew at her; I was in great trouble, I

remember, and wished to assist her, but could not, for though I seemed to

see her, I was still at a distance: and now it appeared that she had

escaped from the dogs, and was proceeding with her cart along a gravelly

path which traversed a wild moor; I could hear the wheels grating amidst

sand and gravel. The next moment I was awake, and found myself sitting

up in my tent; there was a glimmer of light through the canvas caused by

the fire; a feeling of dread came over me, which was perhaps natural, on

starting suddenly from one's sleep in that wild lone place; I half

imagined that some one was nigh the tent; the idea made me rather

uncomfortable, and, to dissipate it, I lifted up the canvas of the door

and peeped out, and, lo! I had a distinct view of a tall figure standing

by the tent. "Who is that?" said I, whilst I felt my blood rush to my

heart. "It is I," said the voice of Isopel Berners; "you little expected

me, I dare say; well, sleep on, I do not wish to disturb you." "But I

was expecting you," said I, recovering myself, "as you may see by the

fire and kettle. I will be with you in a moment."

Putting on in haste the articles of dress which I had flung off, I came

out of the tent, and addressing myself to Isopel, who was standing beside

her cart, I said--"just as I was about to retire to rest I thought it

possible that you might come to-night, and got everything in readiness

for you. Now, sit down by the fire whilst I lead the donkey and cart to

the place where you stay; I will unharness the animal, and presently come

and join you." "I need not trouble you," said Isopel; "I will go myself

and see after my things." "We will go together," said I, "and then

return and have some tea." Isopel made no objection, and in about half-

an-hour we had arranged everything at her quarters, I then hastened and

prepared tea. Presently Isopel rejoined me, bringing her stool; she had

divested herself of her bonnet, and her hair fell over her shoulders; she

sat down, and I poured out the beverage, handing her a cup. "Have you

made a long journey to-night?" said I. "A very long one," replied Belle.

"I have come nearly twenty miles since six o'clock." "I believe I heard

you coming in my sleep," said I; "did the dogs above bark at you?" "Yes,"

said Isopel, "very violently; did you think of me in your sleep?" "No,"

said I, "I was thinking of Ursula and something she had told me." "When

and where was that?" said Isopel. "Yesterday evening," said I, "beneath

the dingle hedge." "Then you were talking with her beneath the hedge?"

"I was," said I, "but only upon gypsy matters. Do you know, Belle, that

she has just been married to Sylvester, so that you need not think that

she and I--" "She and you are quite at liberty to sit where you please,"

said Isopel. "However, young man," she continued, dropping her tone,

which she had slightly raised, "I believe what you said, that you were

merely talking about gypsy matters, and also what you were going to say,

if it was, as I suppose, that she and you had no particular

acquaintance." Isopel was now silent for some time. "What are you

thinking of?" said I. "I was thinking," said Belle, "how exceedingly

kind it was of you to get everything in readiness for me, though you did

not know that I should come." "I had a presentiment that you would

come," said I; "but you forget that I have prepared the kettle for you

before, though it was true that I was then certain that you would come."

"I had not forgotten your doing so, young man," said Belle; "but I was

beginning to think that you were utterly selfish, caring for nothing but

the gratification of your own selfish whims." "I am very fond of having

my own way," said I, "but utterly selfish I am not, as I dare say I shall

frequently prove to you. You will often find the kettle boiling when you

come home." "Not heated by you," said Isopel, with a sigh. "By whom

else?" said I; "surely you are not thinking of driving me away?" "You

have as much right here as myself," said Isopel, "as I have told you

before; but I must be going myself." "Well," said I, "we can go

together; to tell you the truth, I am rather tired of this place." "Our

paths must be separate," said Belle. "Separate," said I, "what do you

mean? I shan't let you go alone, I shall go with you; and you know the

road is as free to me as to you; besides, you can't think of parting

company with me, considering how much you would lose by doing so;

remember that you know scarcely anything of the Armenian language; now,

to learn Armenian from me would take you twenty years."

Belle faintly smiled. "Come," said I, "take another cup of tea." Belle

took another cup of tea, and yet another; we had some indifferent

conversation, after which I arose and gave her donkey a considerable feed

of corn. Belle thanked me, shook me by the hand, and then went to her

own tabernacle, and I returned to mine.