CHAPTER VIII.

HOST. I will hear you, Master Fenton; and I will, at the least, keep
your counsel.--MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

It becomes necessary to return to the detail of those circumstances
which accompanied, and indeed occasioned, the sudden disappearance
of Tressilian from the sign of the Black Bear at Cumnor. It will be
recollected that this gentleman, after his rencounter with Varney, had
returned to Giles Gosling's caravansary, where he shut himself up in his
own chamber, demanded pen, ink, and paper, and announced his purpose
to remain private for the day. In the evening he appeared again in the
public room, where Michael Lambourne, who had been on the watch for
him, agreeably to his engagement to Varney, endeavoured to renew his
acquaintance with him, and hoped he retained no unfriendly recollection
of the part he had taken in the morning's scuffle.

But Tressilian repelled his advances firmly, though with civility.
"Master Lambourne," said he, "I trust I have recompensed to your
pleasure the time you have wasted on me. Under the show of wild
bluntness which you exhibit, I know you have sense enough to understand
me, when I say frankly that the object of our temporary acquaintance
having been accomplished, we must be strangers to each other in future."

"VOTO!" said Lambourne, twirling his whiskers with one hand, and
grasping the hilt of his weapon with the other; "if I thought that this
usage was meant to insult me--"

"You would bear it with discretion, doubtless," interrupted Tressilian,
"as you must do at any rate. You know too well the distance that is
betwixt us, to require me to explain myself further. Good evening."

So saying, he turned his back upon his former companion, and entered
into discourse with the landlord. Michael Lambourne felt strongly
disposed to bully; but his wrath died away in a few incoherent oaths
and ejaculations, and he sank unresistingly under the ascendency which
superior spirits possess over persons of his habits and description. He
remained moody and silent in a corner of the apartment, paying the most
marked attention to every motion of his late companion, against whom he
began now to nourish a quarrel on his own account, which he trusted to
avenge by the execution of his new master Varney's directions. The hour
of supper arrived, and was followed by that of repose, when Tressilian,
like others, retired to his sleeping apartment.

He had not been in bed long, when the train of sad reveries, which
supplied the place of rest in his disturbed mind, was suddenly
interrupted by the jar of a door on its hinges, and a light was seen to
glimmer in the apartment. Tressilian, who was as brave as steel, sprang
from his bed at this alarm, and had laid hand upon his sword, when he
was prevented from drawing it by a voice which said, "Be not too rash
with your rapier, Master Tressilian. It is I, your host, Giles Gosling."

At the same time, unshrouding the dark lantern, which had hitherto
only emitted an indistinct glimmer, the goodly aspect and figure of
the landlord of the Black Bear was visibly presented to his astonished
guest.

"What mummery is this, mine host?" said Tressilian. "Have you supped as
jollily as last night, and so mistaken your chamber? or is midnight a
time for masquerading it in your guest's lodging?"

"Master Tressilian," replied mine host, "I know my place and my time as
well as e'er a merry landlord in England. But here has been my hang-dog
kinsman watching you as close as ever cat watched a mouse; and here have
you, on the other hand, quarrelled and fought, either with him or with
some other person, and I fear that danger will come of it."

"Go to, thou art but a fool, man," said Tressilian. "Thy kinsman is
beneath my resentment; and besides, why shouldst thou think I had
quarrelled with any one whomsoever?"

"Oh, sir," replied the innkeeper, "there was a red spot on thy very
cheek-bone, which boded of a late brawl, as sure as the conjunction of
Mars and Saturn threatens misfortune; and when you returned, the buckles
of your girdle were brought forward, and your step was quick and
hasty, and all things showed your hand and your hilt had been lately
acquainted."

"Well, good mine host, if I have been obliged to draw my sword," said
Tressilian, "why should such a circumstance fetch thee out of thy warm
bed at this time of night? Thou seest the mischief is all over."

"Under favour, that is what I doubt. Anthony Foster is a dangerous man,
defended by strong court patronage, which hath borne him out in matters
of very deep concernment. And, then, my kinsman--why, I have told
you what he is; and if these two old cronies have made up their old
acquaintance, I would not, my worshipful guest, that it should be at
thy cost. I promise you, Mike Lambourne has been making very particular
inquiries at my hostler when and which way you ride. Now, I would have
you think whether you may not have done or said something for which you
may be waylaid, and taken at disadvantage."

"Thou art an honest man, mine host," said Tressilian, after a moment's
consideration, "and I will deal frankly with thee. If these men's malice
is directed against me--as I deny not but it may--it is because they are
the agents of a more powerful villain than themselves."

"You mean Master Richard Varney, do you not?" said the landlord; "he was
at Cumnor Place yesterday, and came not thither so private but what he
was espied by one who told me."

"I mean the same, mine host."

"Then, for God's sake, worshipful Master Tressilian," said honest
Gosling, "look well to yourself. This Varney is the protector and patron
of Anthony Foster, who holds under him, and by his favour, some lease
of yonder mansion and the park. Varney got a large grant of the lands
of the Abbacy of Abingdon, and Cumnor Place amongst others, from his
master, the Earl of Leicester. Men say he can do everything with him,
though I hold the Earl too good a nobleman to employ him as some men
talk of. And then the Earl can do anything (that is, anything right or
fitting) with the Queen, God bless her! So you see what an enemy you
have made to yourself."

"Well--it is done, and I cannot help it," answered Tressilian.

"Uds precious, but it must be helped in some manner," said the host.
"Richard Varney--why, what between his influence with my lord, and his
pretending to so many old and vexatious claims in right of the abbot
here, men fear almost to mention his name, much more to set themselves
against his practices. You may judge by our discourses the last night.
Men said their pleasure of Tony Foster, but not a word of Richard
Varney, though all men judge him to be at the bottom of yonder mystery
about the pretty wench. But perhaps you know more of that matter than
I do; for women, though they wear not swords, are occasion for many
a blade's exchanging a sheath of neat's leather for one of flesh and
blood."

"I do indeed know more of that poor unfortunate lady than thou dost,
my friendly host; and so bankrupt am I, at this moment, of friends and
advice, that I will willingly make a counsellor of thee, and tell thee
the whole history, the rather that I have a favour to ask when my tale
is ended."

"Good Master Tressilian," said the landlord, "I am but a poor innkeeper,
little able to adjust or counsel such a guest as yourself. But as sure
as I have risen decently above the world, by giving good measure and
reasonable charges, I am an honest man; and as such, if I may not
be able to assist you, I am, at least, not capable to abuse your
confidence. Say away therefore, as confidently as if you spoke to your
father; and thus far at least be certain, that my curiosity--for I will
not deny that which belongs to my calling--is joined to a reasonable
degree of discretion."

"I doubt it not, mine host," answered Tressilian; and while his auditor
remained in anxious expectation, he meditated for an instant how he
should commence his narrative. "My tale," he at length said, "to be
quite intelligible, must begin at some distance back. You have heard of
the battle of Stoke, my good host, and perhaps of old Sir Roger Robsart,
who, in that battle, valiantly took part with Henry VII., the Queen's
grandfather, and routed the Earl of Lincoln, Lord Geraldin and his wild
Irish, and the Flemings whom the Duchess of Burgundy had sent over, in
the quarrel of Lambert Simnel?"

"I remember both one and the other," said Giles Gosling; "it is sung
of a dozen times a week on my ale-bench below. Sir Roger Robsart of
Devon--oh, ay, 'tis him of whom minstrels sing to this hour,--

     'He was the flower of Stoke's red field,
     When Martin Swart on ground lay slain;
     In raging rout he never reel'd,
     But like a rock did firm remain.'

     [This verse, or something similar, occurs in a long ballad, or
     poem, on Flodden Field, reprinted by the late Henry Weber.]

"Ay, and then there was Martin Swart I have heard my grandfather talk of,
and of the jolly Almains whom he commanded, with their slashed doublets
and quaint hose, all frounced with ribands above the nether-stocks.
Here's a song goes of Martin Swart, too, an I had but memory for it:--

     'Martin Swart and his men,
     Saddle them, saddle them,
     Martin Swart and his men;
     Saddle them well.'"

     [This verse of an old song actually occurs in an old play where
     the singer boasts,

     "Courteously I can both counter and knack
     Of Martin Swart and all his merry men."]

"True, good mine host--the day was long talked of; but if you sing so
loud, you will awake more listeners than I care to commit my confidence
unto."

"I crave pardon, my worshipful guest," said mine host, "I was oblivious.
When an old song comes across us merry old knights of the spigot, it
runs away with our discretion."

"Well, mine host, my grandfather, like some other Cornishmen, kept a
warm affection to the House of York, and espoused the quarrel of this
Simnel, assuming the title of Earl of Warwick, as the county afterwards,
in great numbers, countenanced the cause of Perkin Warbeck, calling
himself the Duke of York. My grandsire joined Simnel's standard, and was
taken fighting desperately at Stoke, where most of the leaders of that
unhappy army were slain in their harness. The good knight to whom he
rendered himself, Sir Roger Robsart, protected him from the immediate
vengeance of the king, and dismissed him without ransom. But he was
unable to guard him from other penalties of his rashness, being the
heavy fines by which he was impoverished, according to Henry's mode of
weakening his enemies. The good knight did what he might to mitigate the
distresses of my ancestor; and their friendship became so strict, that
my father was bred up as the sworn brother and intimate of the present
Sir Hugh Robsart, the only son of Sir Roger, and the heir of his honest,
and generous, and hospitable temper, though not equal to him in martial
achievements."

"I have heard of good Sir Hugh Robsart," interrupted the host, "many a
time and oft; his huntsman and sworn servant, Will Badger, hath spoken
of him an hundred times in this very house. A jovial knight he is,
and hath loved hospitality and open housekeeping more than the present
fashion, which lays as much gold lace on the seams of a doublet as would
feed a dozen of tall fellows with beef and ale for a twelvemonth, and
let them have their evening at the alehouse once a week, to do good to
the publican."

"If you have seen Will Badger, mine host," said Tressilian, "you have
heard enough of Sir Hugh Robsart; and therefore I will but say, that the
hospitality you boast of hath proved somewhat detrimental to the estate
of his family, which is perhaps of the less consequence, as he has but
one daughter to whom to bequeath it. And here begins my share in the
tale. Upon my father's death, now several years since, the good Sir Hugh
would willingly have made me his constant companion. There was a
time, however, at which I felt the kind knight's excessive love for
field-sports detained me from studies, by which I might have profited
more; but I ceased to regret the leisure which gratitude and hereditary
friendship compelled me to bestow on these rural avocations. The
exquisite beauty of Mistress Amy Robsart, as she grew up from childhood
to woman, could not escape one whom circumstances obliged to be so
constantly in her company--I loved her, in short, mine host, and her
father saw it."

"And crossed your true loves, no doubt?" said mine host. "It is the way
in all such cases; and I judge it must have been so in your instance,
from the heavy sigh you uttered even now."

"The case was different, mine host. My suit was highly approved by
the generous Sir Hugh Robsart; it was his daughter who was cold to my
passion."

"She was the more dangerous enemy of the two," said the innkeeper. "I
fear me your suit proved a cold one."

"She yielded me her esteem," said Tressilian, "and seemed not unwilling
that I should hope it might ripen into a warmer passion. There was
a contract of future marriage executed betwixt us, upon her father's
intercession; but to comply with her anxious request, the execution was
deferred for a twelvemonth. During this period, Richard Varney appeared
in the country, and, availing himself of some distant family connection
with Sir Hugh Robsart, spent much of his time in his company, until, at
length, he almost lived in the family."

"That could bode no good to the place he honoured with his residence,"
said Gosling.

"No, by the rood!" replied Tressilian. "Misunderstanding and misery
followed his presence, yet so strangely that I am at this moment at a
loss to trace the gradations of their encroachment upon a family which
had, till then, been so happy. For a time Amy Robsart received the
attentions of this man Varney with the indifference attached to common
courtesies; then followed a period in which she seemed to regard him
with dislike, and even with disgust; and then an extraordinary species
of connection appeared to grow up betwixt them. Varney dropped those
airs of pretension and gallantry which had marked his former approaches;
and Amy, on the other hand, seemed to renounce the ill-disguised disgust
with which she had regarded them. They seemed to have more of privacy
and confidence together than I fully liked, and I suspected that they
met in private, where there was less restraint than in our presence.
Many circumstances, which I noticed but little at the time--for I deemed
her heart as open as her angelic countenance--have since arisen on my
memory, to convince me of their private understanding. But I need not
detail them--the fact speaks for itself. She vanished from her father's
house; Varney disappeared at the same time; and this very day I have
seen her in the character of his paramour, living in the house of his
sordid dependant Foster, and visited by him, muffled, and by a secret
entrance."

"And this, then, is the cause of your quarrel? Methinks, you should
have been sure that the fair lady either desired or deserved your
interference."

"Mine host," answered Tressilian, "my father--such I must ever consider
Sir Hugh Robsart--sits at home struggling with his grief, or, if so
far recovered, vainly attempting to drown, in the practice of
his field-sports, the recollection that he had once a daughter--a
recollection which ever and anon breaks from him under circumstances the
most pathetic. I could not brook the idea that he should live in misery,
and Amy in guilt; and I endeavoured to-seek her out, with the hope of
inducing her to return to her family. I have found her, and when I have
either succeeded in my attempt, or have found it altogether unavailing,
it is my purpose to embark for the Virginia voyage."

"Be not so rash, good sir," replied Giles Gosling, "and cast not
yourself away because a woman--to be brief--IS a woman, and changes
her lovers like her suit of ribands, with no better reason than mere
fantasy. And ere we probe this matter further, let me ask you what
circumstances of suspicion directed you so truly to this lady's
residence, or rather to her place of concealment?"

"The last is the better chosen word, mine host," answered Tressilian;
"and touching your question, the knowledge that Varney held large grants
of the demesnes formerly belonging to the monks of Abingdon directed me
to this neighbourhood; and your nephew's visit to his old comrade Foster
gave me the means of conviction on the subject."

"And what is now your purpose, worthy sir?--excuse my freedom in asking
the question so broadly."

"I purpose, mine host," said Tressilian, "to renew my visit to the place
of her residence to-morrow, and to seek a more detailed communication
with her than I have had to-day. She must indeed be widely changed from
what she once was, if my words make no impression upon her."

"Under your favour, Master Tressilian," said the landlord, "you can
follow no such course. The lady, if I understand you, has already
rejected your interference in the matter."

"It is but too true," said Tressilian; "I cannot deny it."

"Then, marry, by what right or interest do you process a compulsory
interference with her inclination, disgraceful as it may be to herself
and to her parents? Unless my judgment gulls me, those under whose
protection she has thrown herself would have small hesitation to reject
your interference, even if it were that of a father or brother; but as
a discarded lover, you expose yourself to be repelled with the strong
hand, as well as with scorn. You can apply to no magistrate for aid or
countenance; and you are hunting, therefore, a shadow in water, and will
only (excuse my plainness) come by ducking and danger in attempting to
catch it."

"I will appeal to the Earl of Leicester," said Tressilian, "against
the infamy of his favourite. He courts the severe and strict sect of
Puritans. He dare not, for the sake of his own character, refuse my
appeal, even although he were destitute of the principles of honour and
nobleness with which fame invests him. Or I will appeal to the Queen
herself."

"Should Leicester," said the landlord, "be disposed to protect his
dependant (as indeed he is said to be very confidential with Varney),
the appeal to the Queen may bring them both to reason. Her Majesty is
strict in such matters, and (if it be not treason to speak it) will
rather, it is said, pardon a dozen courtiers for falling in love with
herself, than one for giving preference to another woman. Coragio then,
my brave guest! for if thou layest a petition from Sir Hugh at the foot
of the throne, bucklered by the story of thine own wrongs, the favourite
Earl dared as soon leap into the Thames at the fullest and deepest, as
offer to protect Varney in a cause of this nature. But to do this
with any chance of success, you must go formally to work; and, without
staying here to tilt with the master of horse to a privy councillor, and
expose yourself to the dagger of his cameradoes, you should hie you to
Devonshire, get a petition drawn up for Sir Hugh Robsart, and make as
many friends as you can to forward your interest at court."

"You have spoken well, mine host," said Tressilian, "and I will profit
by your advice, and leave you to-morrow early."

"Nay, leave me to-night, sir, before to-morrow comes," said he landlord.
"I never prayed for a guest's arrival more eagerly than I do to have
you safely gone, My kinsman's destiny is most like to be hanged for
something, but I would not that the cause were the murder of an honoured
guest of mine. 'Better ride safe in the dark,' says the proverb, 'than
in daylight with a cut-throat at your elbow.' Come, sir, I move you for
your own safety. Your horse and all is ready, and here is your score."

"It is somewhat under a noble," said Tressilian, giving one to the host;
"give the balance to pretty Cicely, your daughter, and the servants of
the house."

"They shall taste of your bounty, sir," said Gosling, "and you should
taste of my daughter's lips in grateful acknowledgment, but at this hour
she cannot grace the porch to greet your departure."

"Do not trust your daughter too far with your guests, my good landlord,"
said Tressilian.

"Oh, sir, we will keep measure; but I wonder not that you are jealous
of them all.--May I crave to know with what aspect the fair lady at the
Place yesterday received you?"

"I own," said Tressilian, "it was angry as well as confused, and affords
me little hope that she is yet awakened from her unhappy delusion."

"In that case, sir, I see not why you should play the champion of a
wench that will none of you, and incur the resentment of a favourite's
favourite, as dangerous a monster as ever a knight adventurer
encountered in the old story books."

"You do me wrong in the supposition, mine host--gross wrong," said
Tressilian; "I do not desire that Amy should ever turn thought upon me
more. Let me but see her restored to her father, and all I have to do in
Europe--perhaps in the world--is over and ended."

"A wiser resolution were to drink a cup of sack, and forget her," said
the landlord. "But five-and-twenty and fifty look on those matters with
different eyes, especially when one cast of peepers is set in the skull
of a young gallant, and the other in that of an old publican. I pity
you, Master Tressilian, but I see not how I can aid you in the matter."

"Only thus far, mine host," replied Tressilian--"keep a watch on the
motions of those at the Place, which thou canst easily learn without
suspicion, as all men's news fly to the ale-bench; and be pleased to
communicate the tidings in writing to such person, and to no other,
who shall bring you this ring as a special token. Look at it; it is of
value, and I will freely bestow it on you."

"Nay, sir," said the landlord, "I desire no recompense--but it seems an
unadvised course in me, being in a public line, to connect myself in a
matter of this dark and perilous nature. I have no interest in it."

"You, and every father in the land, who would have his daughter released
from the snares of shame, and sin, and misery, have an interest deeper
than aught concerning earth only could create."

"Well, sir," said the host, "these are brave words; and I do pity from
my soul the frank-hearted old gentleman, who has minished his estate
in good housekeeping for the honour of his country, and now has his
daughter, who should be the stay of his age, and so forth, whisked up
by such a kite as this Varney. And though your part in the matter is
somewhat of the wildest, yet I will e'en be a madcap for company, and
help you in your honest attempt to get back the good man's child, so far
as being your faithful intelligencer can serve. And as I shall be true
to you, I pray you to be trusty to me, and keep my secret; for it were
bad for the custom of the Black Bear should it be said the bear-warder
interfered in such matters. Varney has interest enough with the
justices to dismount my noble emblem from the post on which he swings so
gallantly, to call in my license, and ruin me from garret to cellar."

"Do not doubt my secrecy, mine host," said Tressilian; "I will retain,
besides, the deepest sense of thy service, and of the risk thou dost
run--remember the ring is my sure token. And now, farewell! for it was
thy wise advice that I should tarry here as short a time as may be."

"Follow me, then, Sir Guest," said the landlord, "and tread as gently as
if eggs were under your foot, instead of deal boards. No man must know
when or how you departed."

By the aid of his dark lantern he conducted Tressilian, as soon as he
had made himself ready for his journey, through a long intricacy of
passages, which opened to an outer court, and from thence to a remote
stable, where he had already placed his guest's horse. He then aided
him to fasten on the saddle the small portmantle which contained his
necessaries, opened a postern door, and with a hearty shake of the hand,
and a reiteration of his promise to attend to what went on at Cumnor
Place, he dismissed his guest to his solitary journey.



CHAPTER IX.

     Far in the lane a lonely hut he found,
     No tenant ventured on the unwholesome ground:
     Here smokes his forge, he bares his sinewy arm,
     And early strokes the sounding anvil warm;
     Around his shop the steely sparkles flew,
     As for the steed he shaped the bending shoe.--GAY'S TRIVIA.

As it was deemed proper by the traveller himself, as well as by Giles
Gosling, that Tressilian should avoid being seen in the neighbourhood of
Cumnor by those whom accident might make early risers, the landlord had
given him a route, consisting of various byways and lanes, which he was
to follow in succession, and which, all the turns and short-cuts duly
observed, was to conduct him to the public road to Marlborough.

But, like counsel of every other kind, this species of direction is much
more easily given than followed; and what betwixt the intricacy of the
way, the darkness of the night, Tressilian's ignorance of the country,
and the sad and perplexing thoughts with which he had to contend, his
journey proceeded so slowly, that morning found him only in the vale of
Whitehorse, memorable for the defeat of the Danes in former days, with
his horse deprived of a fore-foot shoe, an accident which threatened to
put a stop to his journey by laming the animal. The residence of a
smith was his first object of inquiry, in which he received little
satisfaction from the dullness or sullenness of one or two peasants,
early bound for their labour, who gave brief and indifferent answers to
his questions on the subject. Anxious, at length, that the partner of
his journey should suffer as little as possible from the unfortunate
accident, Tressilian dismounted, and led his horse in the direction of a
little hamlet, where he hoped either to find or hear tidings of such an
artificer as he now wanted. Through a deep and muddy lane, he at length
waded on to the place, which proved only an assemblage of five or six
miserable huts, about the doors of which one or two persons, whose
appearance seemed as rude as that of their dwellings, were beginning
the toils of the day. One cottage, however, seemed of rather superior
aspect, and the old dame, who was sweeping her threshold, appeared
something less rude than her neighbours. To her Tressilian addressed the
oft-repeated question, whether there was a smith in this neighbourhood,
or any place where he could refresh his horse? The dame looked him in
the face with a peculiar expression as she replied, "Smith! ay, truly is
there a smith--what wouldst ha' wi' un, mon?"

"To shoe my horse, good dame," answered Tressiliany; "you may see that he
has thrown a fore-foot shoe."

"Master Holiday!" exclaimed the dame, without returning any direct
answer--"Master Herasmus Holiday, come and speak to mon, and please
you."

"FAVETE LINGUIS," answered a voice from within; "I cannot now come
forth, Gammer Sludge, being in the very sweetest bit of my morning
studies."

"Nay, but, good now, Master Holiday, come ye out, do ye. Here's a mon
would to Wayland Smith, and I care not to show him way to devil; his
horse hath cast shoe."

"QUID MIHI CUM CABALLO?" replied the man of learning from within; "I
think there is but one wise man in the hundred, and they cannot shoe a
horse without him!"

And forth came the honest pedagogue, for such his dress bespoke him. A
long, lean, shambling, stooping figure was surmounted by a head thatched
with lank, black hair somewhat inclining to grey. His features had the
cast of habitual authority, which I suppose Dionysius carried with him
from the throne to the schoolmaster's pulpit, and bequeathed as a legacy
to all of the same profession, A black buckram cassock was gathered at
his middle with a belt, at which hung, instead of knife or weapon, a
goodly leathern pen-and-ink case. His ferula was stuck on the other
side, like Harlequin's wooden sword; and he carried in his hand the
tattered volume which he had been busily perusing.

On seeing a person of Tressilian's appearance, which he was better
able to estimate than the country folks had been, the schoolmaster
unbonneted, and accosted him with, "SALVE, DOMINE. INTELLIGISNE LINGUAM
LATINAM?"

Tressilian mustered his learning to reply, "LINGUAE LATINAE HAUD PENITUS
IGNARUS, VENIA TUA, DOMINE ERUDITISSIME, VERNACULAM LIBENTIUS LOQUOR."

The Latin reply had upon the schoolmaster the effect which the mason's
sign is said to produce on the brethren of the trowel. He was at once
interested in the learned traveller, listened with gravity to his story
of a tired horse and a lost shoe, and then replied with solemnity, "It
may appear a simple thing, most worshipful, to reply to you that there
dwells, within a brief mile of these TUGURIA, the best FABER FERARIUS,
the most accomplished blacksmith, that ever nailed iron upon horse. Now,
were I to say so, I warrant me you would think yourself COMPOS VOTI, or,
as the vulgar have it, a made man."

"I should at least," said Tressilian, "have a direct answer to a plain
question, which seems difficult to be obtained in this country."

"It is a mere sending of a sinful soul to the evil un," said the old
woman, "the sending a living creature to Wayland Smith."

"Peace, Gammer Sludge!" said the pedagogue; "PAUCA VERBA, Gammer Sludge;
look to the furmity, Gammer Sludge; CURETUR JENTACULUM, Gammer Sludge;
this gentleman is none of thy gossips." Then turning to Tressilian, he
resumed his lofty tone, "And so, most worshipful, you would really think
yourself FELIX BIS TERQUE should I point out to you the dwelling of this
same smith?"

"Sir," replied Tressilian, "I should in that case have all that I want
at present--a horse fit to carry me forward;--out of hearing of your
learning." The last words he muttered to himself.

"O CAECA MENS MORTALIUM!" said the learned man "well was it sung by
Junius Juvenalis, 'NUMINIBUS VOTA EXAUDITA MALIGNIS!'"

"Learned Magister," said Tressilian, "your erudition so greatly exceeds
my poor intellectual capacity that you must excuse my seeking elsewhere
for information which I can better understand."

"There again now," replied the pedagogue, "how fondly you fly from him
that would instruct you! Truly said Quintilian--"

"I pray, sir, let Quintilian be for the present, and answer, in a word
and in English, if your learning can condescend so far, whether there is
any place here where I can have opportunity to refresh my horse until I
can have him shod?"

"Thus much courtesy, sir," said the schoolmaster, "I can readily render
you, that although there is in this poor hamlet (NOSTRA PAUPERA REGNA)
no regular HOSPITIUM, as my namesake Erasmus calleth it, yet, forasmuch
as you are somewhat embued, or at least tinged, as it were, with good
letters, I will use my interest with the good woman of the house to
accommodate you with a platter of furmity--an wholesome food for which
I have found no Latin phrase--your horse shall have a share of the
cow-house, with a bottle of sweet hay, in which the good woman Sludge so
much abounds, that it may be said of her cow, FAENUM HABET IN CORNU;
and if it please you to bestow on me the pleasure of your company, the
banquet shall cost you NE SEMISSEM QUIDEM, so much is Gammer Sludge
bound to me for the pains I have bestowed on the top and bottom of her
hopeful heir Dickie, whom I have painfully made to travel through the
accidence."

"Now, God yield ye for it, Master Herasmus," said the good Gammer, "and
grant that little Dickie may be the better for his accident! And for the
rest, if the gentleman list to stay, breakfast shall be on the board in
the wringing of a dishclout; and for horse-meat, and man's meat, I bear
no such base mind as to ask a penny."

Considering the state of his horse, Tressilian, upon the whole, saw
no better course than to accept the invitation thus learnedly made and
hospitably confirmed, and take chance that when the good pedagogue had
exhausted every topic of conversation, he might possibly condescend to
tell him where he could find the smith they spoke of. He entered the
hut accordingly, and sat down with the learned Magister Erasmus Holiday,
partook of his furmity, and listened to his learned account of himself
for a good half hour, ere he could get him to talk upon any other topic,
The reader will readily excuse our accompanying this man of learning
into all the details with which he favoured Tressilian, of which the
following sketch may suffice.

He was born at Hogsnorton, where, according to popular saying, the pigs
play upon the organ; a proverb which he interpreted allegorically,
as having reference to the herd of Epicurus, of which litter Horace
confessed himself a porker. His name of Erasmus he derived partly from
his father having been the son of a renowned washerwoman, who had held
that great scholar in clean linen all the while he was at Oxford; a task
of some difficulty, as he was only possessed of two shirts, "the one,"
as she expressed herself, "to wash the other," The vestiges of one of
these CAMICIAE, as Master Holiday boasted, were still in his possession,
having fortunately been detained by his grandmother to cover the balance
of her bill. But he thought there was a still higher and overruling
cause for his having had the name of Erasmus conferred on him--namely,
the secret presentiment of his mother's mind that, in the babe to be
christened, was a hidden genius, which should one day lead him to rival
the fame of the great scholar of Amsterdam. The schoolmaster's surname
led him as far into dissertation as his Christian appellative. He was
inclined to think that he bore the name of Holiday QUASI LUCUS A NON
LUCENDO, because he gave such few holidays to his school. "Hence," said
he, "the schoolmaster is termed, classically, LUDI MAGISTER, because he
deprives boys of their play." And yet, on the other hand, he thought
it might bear a very different interpretation, and refer to his own
exquisite art in arranging pageants, morris-dances, May-day festivities,
and such-like holiday delights, for which he assured Tressilian he had
positively the purest and the most inventive brain in England; insomuch,
that his cunning in framing such pleasures had made him known to many
honourable persons, both in country and court, and especially to the
noble Earl of Leicester. "And although he may now seem to forget me,"
he said, "in the multitude of state affairs, yet I am well assured that,
had he some pretty pastime to array for entertainment of the Queen's
Grace, horse and man would be seeking the humble cottage of Erasmus
Holiday. PARVO CONTENTUS, in the meanwhile, I hear my pupils parse and
construe, worshipful sir, and drive away my time with the aid of the
Muses. And I have at all times, when in correspondence with foreign
scholars, subscribed myself Erasmus ab Die Fausto, and have enjoyed the
distinction due to the learned under that title: witness the erudite
Diedrichus Buckerschockius, who dedicated to me under that title his
treatise on the letter TAU. In fine, sir, I have been a happy and
distinguished man."

"Long may it be so, sir!" said the traveller; "but permit me to ask, in
your own learned phrase, QUID HOC AD IPHYCLI BOVES? what has all this to
do with the shoeing of my poor nag?"

"FESTINA LENTE," said the man of learning, "we will presently came to
that point. You must know that some two or three years past there came
to these parts one who called himself Doctor Doboobie, although it may
be he never wrote even MAGISTER ARTIUM, save in right of his hungry
belly. Or it may be, that if he had any degrees, they were of the
devil's giving; for he was what the vulgar call a white witch, a cunning
man, and such like.--Now, good sir, I perceive you are impatient; but if
a man tell not his tale his own way, how have you warrant to think that
he can tell it in yours?"

"Well, then, learned sir, take your way," answered Tressilian; "only let
us travel at a sharper pace, for my time is somewhat of the shortest."

"Well, sir," resumed Erasmus Holiday, with the most provoking
perseverance, "I will not say that this same Demetrius for so he wrote
himself when in foreign parts, was an actual conjurer, but certain it
is that he professed to be a brother of the mystical Order of the Rosy
Cross, a disciple of Geber (EX NOMINE CUJUS VENIT VERBUM VERNACULUM,
GIBBERISH). He cured wounds by salving the weapon instead of the sore;
told fortunes by palmistry; discovered stolen goods by the sieve and
shears; gathered the right maddow and the male fern seed, through use of
which men walk invisible; pretended some advances towards the panacea,
or universal elixir; and affected to convert good lead into sorry
silver."

"In other words," said Tressilian, "he was a quacksalver and common
cheat; but what has all this to do with my nag, and the shoe which he
has lost?"

"With your worshipful patience," replied the diffusive man of letters,
"you shall understand that presently--PATENTIA then, right worshipful,
which word, according to our Marcus Tullius, is 'DIFFICILIUM RERUM
DIURNA PERPESSIO.' This same Demetrius Doboobie, after dealing with the
country, as I have told you, began to acquire fame INTER MAGNATES, among
the prime men of the land, and there is likelihood he might have aspired
to great matters, had not, according to vulgar fame (for I aver not the
thing as according with my certain knowledge), the devil claimed his
right, one dark night, and flown off with Demetrius, who was never seen
or heard of afterwards. Now here comes the MEDULLA, the very marrow,
of my tale. This Doctor Doboobie had a servant, a poor snake, whom
he employed in trimming his furnace, regulating it by just
measure--compounding his drugs--tracing his circles--cajoling his
patients, ET SIC ET CAETERIS. Well, right worshipful, the Doctor being
removed thus strangely, and in a way which struck the whole country with
terror, this poor Zany thinks to himself, in the words of Maro, 'UNO
AVULSO, NON DEFICIT ALTER;' and, even as a tradesman's apprentice sets
himself up in his master's shop when he is dead or hath retired from
business, so doth this Wayland assume the dangerous trade of his defunct
master. But although, most worshipful sir, the world is ever prone to
listen to the pretensions of such unworthy men, who are, indeed, mere
SALTIM BANQUI and CHARLATANI, though usurping the style and skill
of doctors of medicine, yet the pretensions of this poor Zany, this
Wayland, were too gross to pass on them, nor was there a mere rustic,
a villager, who was not ready to accost him in the sense of Persius,
though in their own rugged words,--

     DILIUS HELLEBORUM CERTO COMPESCERE PUNCTO
     NESCIUS EXAMEN?  VETAT HOC NATURA VEDENDI;

which I have thus rendered in a poor paraphrase of mine own,--

     Wilt thou mix hellebore, who dost not know
     How many grains should to the mixture go?
     The art of medicine this forbids, I trow.

"Moreover, the evil reputation of the master, and his strange and
doubtful end, or at least sudden disappearance, prevented any, excepting
the most desperate of men, to seek any advice or opinion from the
servant; wherefore, the poor vermin was likely at first to swarf for
very hunger. But the devil that serves him, since the death of Demetrius
or Doboobie, put him on a fresh device. This knave, whether from the
inspiration of the devil, or from early education, shoes horses better
than e'er a man betwixt us and Iceland; and so he gives up his practice
on the bipeds, the two-legged and unfledged species called mankind, and
betakes him entirely to shoeing of horses."

"Indeed! and where does he lodge all this time?" said Tressilian. "And
does he shoe horses well? Show me his dwelling presently."

The interruption pleased not the Magister, who exclaimed, "O CAECA MENS
MORTALIUM!--though, by the way, I used that quotation before. But I
would the classics could afford me any sentiment of power to stop those
who are so willing to rush upon their own destruction. Hear but, I pray
you, the conditions of this man," said he, in continuation, "ere you are
so willing to place yourself within his danger--"

"A' takes no money for a's work," said the dame, who stood by,
enraptured as it were with the line words and learned apophthegms which
glided so fluently from her erudite inmate, Master Holiday. But this
interruption pleased not the Magister more than that of the traveller.

"Peace," said he, "Gammer Sludge; know your place, if it be your will.
SUFFLAMINA, Gammer Sludge, and allow me to expound this matter to our
worshipful guest.--Sir," said he, again addressing Tressilian, "this
old woman speaks true, though in her own rude style; for certainly this
FABER FERRARIUS, or blacksmith, takes money of no one."

"And that is a sure sign he deals with Satan," said Dame Sludge; "since
no good Christian would ever refuse the wages of his labour."

"The old woman hath touched it again," said the pedagogue; "REM ACU
TETIGIT--she hath pricked it with her needle's point. This Wayland takes
no money, indeed; nor doth he show himself to any one."

"And can this madman, for such I hold him," said the traveller, "know
aught like good skill of his trade?"

"Oh, sir, in that let us give the devil his due--Mulciber himself, with
all his Cyclops, could hardly amend him. But assuredly there is little
wisdom in taking counsel or receiving aid from one who is but too
plainly in league with the author of evil."

"I must take my chance of that, good Master Holiday," said Tressilian,
rising; "and as my horse must now have eaten his provender, I must
needs thank you for your good cheer, and pray you to show me this man's
residence, that I may have the means of proceeding on my journey."

"Ay, ay, do ye show him, Master Herasmus," said the old dame, who was,
perhaps, desirous to get her house freed of her guest; "a' must needs go
when the devil drives."

"DO MANUS," said the Magister, "I submit--taking the world to witness,
that I have possessed this honourable gentleman with the full injustice
which he has done and shall do to his own soul, if he becomes thus a
trinketer with Satan. Neither will I go forth with our guest myself, but
rather send my pupil.--RICARDE! ADSIS, NEBULO."

"Under your favour, not so," answered the old woman; "you may peril your
own soul, if you list, but my son shall budge on no such errand. And I
wonder at you, Dominie Doctor, to propose such a piece of service for
little Dickie."

"Nay, my good Gammer Sludge," answered the preceptor, "Ricardus shall go
but to the top of the hill, and indicate with his digit to the stranger
the dwelling of Wayland Smith. Believe not that any evil can come to
him, he having read this morning, fasting, a chapter of the Septuagint,
and, moreover, having had his lesson in the Greek Testament."

"Ay," said his mother, "and I have sewn a sprig of witch's elm in the
neck of un's doublet, ever since that foul thief has begun his practices
on man and beast in these parts."

"And as he goes oft (as I hugely suspect) towards this conjurer for his
own pastime, he may for once go thither, or near it, to pleasure us,
and to assist this stranger.--ERGO, HEUS RICARDE! ADSIS, QUAESO, MI
DIDASCULE."

The pupil, thus affectionately invoked, at length came stumbling into
the room; a queer, shambling, ill-made urchin, who, by his stunted
growth, seemed about twelve or thirteen years old, though he was
probably, in reality, a year or two older, with a carroty pate in huge
disorder, a freckled, sunburnt visage, with a snub nose, a long
chin, and two peery grey eyes, which had a droll obliquity of vision,
approaching to a squint, though perhaps not a decided one. It was
impossible to look at the little man without some disposition to laugh,
especially when Gammer Sludge, seizing upon and kissing him, in spite of
his struggling and kicking in reply to her caresses, termed him her own
precious pearl of beauty.

"RICARDE," said the preceptor, "you must forthwith (which is PROFECTO)
set forth so far as the top of the hill, and show this man of worship
Wayland Smith's workshop."

"A proper errand of a morning," said the boy, in better language than
Tressilian expected; "and who knows but the devil may fly away with me
before I come back?"

"Ay, marry may un," said Dame Sludge; "and you might have thought twice,
Master Domine, ere you sent my dainty darling on arrow such errand. It
is not for such doings I feed your belly and clothe your back, I warrant
you!"

"Pshaw--NUGAE, good Gammer Sludge," answered the preceptor; "I ensure
you that Satan, if there be Satan in the case, shall not touch a thread
of his garment; for Dickie can say his PATER with the best, and may defy
the foul fiend--EUMENIDES, STYGIUMQUE NEFAS."

"Ay, and I, as I said before, have sewed a sprig of the mountain-ash
into his collar," said the good woman, "which will avail more than your
clerkship, I wus; but for all that, it is ill to seek the devil or his
mates either."

"My good boy," said Tressilian, who saw, from a grotesque sneer on
Dickie's face, that he was more likely to act upon his own bottom than
by the instructions of his elders, "I will give thee a silver groat, my
pretty fellow, if you will but guide me to this man's forge."

The boy gave him a knowing side-look, which seemed to promise
acquiescence, while at the same time he exclaimed, "I be your guide to
Wayland Smith's! Why, man, did I not say that the devil might fly off
with me, just as the kite there" (looking to the window) "is flying off
with one of grandam's chicks?"

"The kite! the kite!" exclaimed the old woman in return, and forgetting
all other matters in her alarm, hastened to the rescue of her chickens
as fast as her old legs could carry her.

"Now for it," said the urchin to Tressilian; "snatch your beaver, get
out your horse, and have at the silver groat you spoke of."

"Nay, but tarry, tarry," said the preceptor--"SUFFLAMINA, RICARDE!"

"Tarry yourself," said Dickie, "and think what answer you are to make to
granny for sending me post to the devil."

The teacher, aware of the responsibility he was incurring, bustled up in
great haste to lay hold of the urchin and to prevent his departure; but
Dickie slipped through his fingers, bolted from the cottage, and sped
him to the top of a neighbouring rising ground, while the preceptor,
despairing, by well-taught experience, of recovering his pupil by speed
of foot, had recourse to the most honied epithets the Latin vocabulary
affords to persuade his return. But to MI ANIME, CORCULUM MEUM, and
all such classical endearments, the truant turned a deaf ear, and kept
frisking on the top of the rising ground like a goblin by moonlight,
making signs to his new acquaintance, Tressilian, to follow him.

The traveller lost no time in getting out his horse and departing to
join his elvish guide, after half-forcing on the poor, deserted teacher
a recompense for the entertainment he had received, which partly allayed
that terror he had for facing the return of the old lady of the mansion.
Apparently this took place soon afterwards; for ere Tressilian and his
guide had proceeded far on their journey, they heard the screams of a
cracked female voice, intermingled with the classical objurgations of
Master Erasmus Holiday. But Dickie Sludge, equally deaf to the voice
of maternal tenderness and of magisterial authority, skipped on
unconsciously before Tressilian, only observing that "if they cried
themselves hoarse, they might go lick the honey-pot, for he had eaten up
all the honey-comb himself on yesterday even."



CHAPTER X.

     There entering in, they found the goodman selfe
     Full busylie unto his work ybent,
     Who was to weet a wretched wearish elf,
     With hollow eyes and rawbone cheeks forspent,
     As if he had been long in prison pent.--THE FAERY QUEENE.

"Are we far from the dwelling of this smith, my pretty lad?" said
Tressilian to his young guide.

"How is it you call me?" said the boy, looking askew at him with his
sharp, grey eyes.

"I call you my pretty lad--is there any offence in that, my boy?"

"No; but were you with my grandam and Dominie Holiday, you might sing
chorus to the old song of

     'We three
     Tom-fools be.'"

"And why so, my little man?" said Tressilian.

"Because," answered the ugly urchin, "you are the only three ever called
me pretty lad. Now my grandam does it because she is parcel blind by
age, and whole blind by kindred; and my master, the poor Dominie, does
it to curry favour, and have the fullest platter of furmity and the
warmest seat by the fire. But what you call me pretty lad for, you know
best yourself."

"Thou art a sharp wag at least, if not a pretty one. But what do thy
playfellows call thee?"

"Hobgoblin," answered the boy readily; "but for all that, I would rather
have my own ugly viznomy than any of their jolter-heads, that have no
more brains in them than a brick-bat."

"Then you fear not this smith whom you are going to see?"

"Me fear him!" answered the boy. "If he were the devil folk think him, I
would not fear him; but though there is something queer about him, he's
no more a devil than you are, and that's what I would not tell to every
one."

"And why do you tell it to me, then, my boy?" said Tressilian.

"Because you are another guess gentleman than those we see here every
day," replied Dickie; "and though I am as ugly as sin, I would not have
you think me an ass, especially as I may have a boon to ask of you one
day."

"And what is that, my lad, whom I must not call pretty?" replied
Tressilian.

"Oh, if I were to ask it just now," said the boy, "you would deny it me;
but I will wait till we meet at court."

"At court, Richard! are you bound for court?" said Tressilian.

"Ay, ay, that's just like the rest of them," replied the boy. "I warrant
me, you think, what should such an ill-favoured, scrambling urchin do at
court? But let Richard Sludge alone; I have not been cock of the roost
here for nothing. I will make sharp wit mend foul feature."

"But what will your grandam say, and your tutor, Dominie Holiday?"

"E'en what they like," replied Dickie; "the one has her chickens to
reckon, and the other has his boys to whip. I would have given them the
candle to hold long since, and shown this trumpery hamlet a fair pair of
heels, but that Dominie promises I should go with him to bear share in
the next pageant he is to set forth, and they say there are to be great
revels shortly."

"And whereabouts are they to be held, my little friend?" said
Tressilian.

"Oh, at some castle far in the north," answered his guide--"a world's
breadth from Berkshire. But our old Dominie holds that they cannot go
forward without him; and it may be he is right, for he has put in order
many a fair pageant. He is not half the fool you would take him for,
when he gets to work he understands; and so he can spout verses like
a play-actor, when, God wot, if you set him to steal a goose's egg, he
would be drubbed by the gander."

"And you are to play a part in his next show?" said Tressilian, somewhat
interested by the boy's boldness of conversation and shrewd estimate of
character.

"In faith," said Richard Sludge, in answer, "he hath so promised me; and
if he break his word, it will be the worse for him, for let me take the
bit between my teeth, and turn my head downhill, and I will shake him
off with a fall that may harm his bones. And I should not like much to
hurt him neither," said he, "for the tiresome old fool has painfully
laboured to teach me all he could. But enough of that--here are we at
Wayland Smith's forge-door."

"You jest, my little friend," said Tressilian; "here is nothing but a
bare moor, and that ring of stones, with a great one in the midst, like
a Cornish barrow."

"Ay, and that great flat stone in the midst, which lies across the top
of these uprights," said the boy, "is Wayland Smith's counter, that you
must tell down your money upon."

"What do you mean by such folly?" said the traveller, beginning to be
angry with the boy, and vexed with himself for having trusted such a
hare-brained guide.

"Why," said Dickie, with a grin, "you must tie your horse to that
upright stone that has the ring in't, and then you must whistle three
times, and lay me down your silver groat on that other flat stone, walk
out of the circle, sit down on the west side of that little thicket
of bushes, and take heed you look neither to right nor to left for ten
minutes, or so long as you shall hear the hammer clink, and whenever
it ceases, say your prayers for the space you could tell a hundred--or
count over a hundred, which will do as well--and then come into the
circle; you will find your money gone and your horse shod."

"My money gone to a certainty!" said Tressilian; "but as for the
rest--Hark ye, my lad, I am not your school-master, but if you play off
your waggery on me, I will take a part of his task off his hands, and
punish you to purpose."

"Ay, when you catch me!" said the boy; and presently took to his
heels across the heath, with a velocity which baffled every attempt of
Tressilian to overtake him, loaded as he was with his heavy boots. Nor
was it the least provoking part of the urchin's conduct, that he did not
exert his utmost speed, like one who finds himself in danger, or who is
frightened, but preserved just such a rate as to encourage Tressilian to
continue the chase, and then darted away from him with the swiftness of
the wind, when his pursuer supposed he had nearly run him down, doubling
at the same time, and winding, so as always to keep near the place from
which he started.