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Kenelm Chillingly, a novel by Edward Bulwer-Lytton |
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Book 3 - Chapter 13 |
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_ BOOK III CHAPTER XIII WHETHER or not his spirits were raised by Kenelm's praise and exhortations, the minstrel that day talked with a charm that spellbound Tom, and Kenelm was satisfied with brief remarks on his side tending to draw out the principal performer. The talk was drawn from outward things, from natural objects,--objects that interest children, and men who, like Tom Bowles, have been accustomed to view surroundings more with the heart's eye than the mind's eye. This rover about the country knew much of the habits of birds and beasts and insects, and told anecdotes of them with a mixture of humour and pathos, which fascinated Tom's attention, made him laugh heartily, and sometimes brought tears into his big blue eyes. They dined at an inn by the wayside, and the dinner was mirthful; then they wended their way slowly back. By the declining daylight their talk grew somewhat graver, and Kenelm took more part in it. Tom listened mute,--still fascinated. At length, as the town came in sight, they agreed to halt a while, in a bosky nook soft with mosses and sweet with wild thyme. There, as they lay stretched at their ease, the birds hymning vesper songs amid the boughs above, or dropping, noiseless and fearless, for their evening food on the swards around them, the wanderer said to Kenelm, "You tell me that you are no poet, yet I am sure you have a poet's perception: you must have written poetry?" "Not I; as I before told you, only school verses in dead languages: but I found in my knapsack this morning a copy of some rhymes, made by a fellow-collegian, which I put into my pocket meaning to read them to you both. They are not verses like yours, which evidently burst from you spontaneously, and are not imitated from any other poets. These verses were written by a Scotchman, and smack of imitation from the old ballad style. There is little to admire in the words themselves, but there is something in the idea which struck me as original, and impressed me sufficiently to keep a copy, and somehow or other it got into the leaves of one of the two books I carried with me from home." "What are those books? Books of poetry both, I will venture to wager--" "Wrong! Both metaphysical, and dry as a bone. Tom, light your pipe, and you, sir, lean more at ease on your elbow; I should warn you that the ballad is long. Patience!" "Attention!" said the minstrel. "Fire!" added Tom. Kenelm began to read,--and he read well. PART I. "WHY gathers the crowd in the market-place "What deed has she done to deserve that doom? "Her pact with the fiend was not thus revealed, "But a holy man, who at Rome had been, "And our Mother the Church, for the dame was rich, "But hush, and come nearer to see the sight, So the witch was consumed on the sacred pyre, And the infant waxed comely and strong and brave, PART II. Lord Ronald has come to his halls in Clyde Her eyes had the glare of the mountain-cat And the tones of her voice had that deadly growl "Lord Ronald! men marry for love or gold, "My bride is, in sooth, mickle rich to me Quoth the bishop one day to our lord the king, "Lord Ronald hath come from the Paynim land "It is plain that a Scot who can blindly dote "It were wise to have done with this demon tree "Holy man!" quoth King James, and he laughed, "we know "Yet a knight that's bewitched by a laidly fere PART III. Lord Ronald stood up in King James's court, The bishop, though armed with his bell and book, "Lord Ronald, the knights of thy race and mine "And what was her dowry in gold or land, And the lords would have laughed, but that awful dame "Though I brought to Lord Ronald nor lands nor gold, "For the wish that he covets the most below, "Let every man look in his heart and see And every man--bishop, and lord, and king No longer a ghoul in that face he saw; Each heart was on flame for the peerless dame Then darkness fell over the palace hall, When light through the lattice-pane stole once more, Lord Ronald was standing beside the dead, "Now I leave her to others to woo and win, "And the dowry she brought me is here returned, Lord Ronald strode over the stony floor, And the ladye, left widowed, was prized above God grant that the wish which I dare not pray
"What say you to the ballad?" asked Kenelm of the singer. "It is not without power," answered he. "Ay, of a certain kind." The minstrel looked hard at Kenelm, and dropped his eyes, with a heightened glow on his cheek. "The Scotch are a thoughtful race. The Scot who wrote this thing may have thought of a day when he saw beauty in the face of a darling sin; but, if so, it is evident that his sight recovered from that glamoury. Shall we walk on? Come, Tom." The minstrel left them at the entrance of the town, saying, "I regret that I cannot see more of either of you, as I quit Luscombe at daybreak. Here, by the by, I forgot to give it before, is the address you wanted." KENELM.--"Of the little child. I am glad you remembered her." The minstrel again looked hard at Kenelm, this time without dropping his eyes. Kenelm's expression of face was so simply quiet that it might be almost called vacant. Kenelm and Tom continued to walk on towards the veterinary surgeon's house, for some minutes silently. Then Tom said in a whisper, "Did you not mean those rhymes to hit me here--_here_?" and he struck his breast. "The rhymes were written long before I saw you, Tom; but it is well if their meaning strike us all. Of you, my friend, I have no fear now. Are you not already a changed man?" "I feel as if I were going through a change," answered Tom, in slow, dreary accents. "In hearing you and that gentleman talk so much of things that I never thought of, I felt something in me,--you will laugh when I tell you,--something like a bird." "Like a bird,--good!--a bird has wings." "Just so." "And you felt wings that you were unconscious of before, fluttering and beating themselves as against the wires of a cage. You were true to your instincts then, my dear fellow-man,--instincts of space and Heaven. Courage!--the cage-door will open soon. And now, practically speaking, I give you this advice in parting: You have a quick and sensitive mind which you have allowed that strong body of yours to incarcerate and suppress. Give that mind fair play. Attend to the business of your calling diligently; the craving for regular work is the healthful appetite of mind: but in your spare hours cultivate the new ideas which your talk with men who have been accustomed to cultivate the mind more than the body has sown within you. Belong to a book-club, and interest yourself in books. A wise man has said, 'Books widen the present by adding to it the past and the future.' Seek the company of educated men and educated women too; and when you are angry with another, reason with him: don't knock him down; and don't be knocked down yourself by an enemy much stronger than yourself,--Drink. Do all this, and when I see you again you will be--" "Stop, sir,--you will see me again?" "Yes, if we both live, I promise it." "When?" "You see, Tom, we have both of us something in our old selves which we must work off. You will work off your something by repose, and I must work off mine, if I can, by moving about. So I am on my travels. May we both have new selves better than the old selves, when we again shake hands! For your part try your best, dear Tom, and Heaven prosper you." "And Heaven bless you!" cried Tom, fervently, with tears rolling unheeded from his bold blue eyes. _ |