Lavengro : $b The Scholar; The Gypsy; The Priest, Vol. 1 (of 2)Borrow, George
General
Lavengro : $b The Scholar; The Gypsy; The Priest, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Borrow, George
England -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction
certain sharpers, not Italian, but English, he was fleeced of
considerable sums of money. The abbe, who, it seems, was an excellent
individual of the old French school, remonstrated with his pupil on his
dissipation and extravagance; but, finding his remonstrances vain, very
properly informed the guardians of the manner of life of his charge. They
were not slow in commanding Francis Ardry home; and, as he was entirely
in their power, he was forced to comply. He had been about three months
in London when I met him in the coffee-room, and the two elderly
gentlemen in his company were his guardians. At this time they were very
solicitous that he should choose for himself a profession, offering to
his choice either the army or law--he was calculated to shine in either
of these professions--for, like many others of his countrymen, he was
brave and eloquent; but he did not wish to shackle himself with a
profession. As, however, his minority did not terminate till he was
three-and-twenty, of which age he wanted nearly two years, during which
he would be entirely dependent on his guardians, he deemed it expedient
to conceal, to a certain degree, his sentiments, temporising with the old
gentlemen, with whom, notwithstanding his many irregularities, he was a
great favourite, and at whose death he expected to come into a yet
greater property than that which he inherited from his parents.
Such is a brief account of Francis Ardry--of my friend Francis Ardry; for
the acquaintance, commenced in the singular manner with which the reader
is acquainted, speedily ripened into a friendship which endured through
many long years of separation, and which still endures certainly on my
part, and on his--if he lives; but it is many years since I have heard
from Francis Ardry.
And yet many people would have thought it impossible for our friendship
to have lasted a week--for in many respects no two people could be more
dissimilar. He was an Irishman--I, an Englishman;--he, fiery,
enthusiastic, and open-hearted;--I, neither fiery, enthusiastic, nor open-
hearted;--he, fond of pleasure and dissipation;--I, of study and
reflection. Yet it is of such dissimilar elements that the most lasting
friendships are formed: we do not like counterparts of ourselves. "Two
great talkers will not travel far together," is a Spanish saying; I will
add, "Nor two silent people;" we naturally love our opposites.
So Francis Ardry came to see me, and right glad I was to see him, for I
had just flung my books and papers aside, and was wishing for a little
social converse; and when we had conversed for some little time together,
Francis Ardry proposed that we should go to the play to see Kean; so we
went to the play, and saw--not Kean, who at that time was ashamed to show
himself, but--a man who was not ashamed to show himself, and who people
said was a much better man than Kean--as I have no doubt he was--though
whether he was a better actor I cannot say, for I never saw Kean.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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