Lavengro: The Scholar, The Gypsy, The PriestBorrow, George
General
Lavengro: The Scholar, The Gypsy, The Priest
Borrow, George
England -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction
‘You make me uneasy too,’ said my mother; ‘but I really think you are too
hard upon the child; he is not a bad child, after all, though not,
perhaps, all you could wish him; he is always ready to read the Bible.
Let us go in; he is in the room above us; at least he was two hours ago,
I left him there bending over his books; I wonder what he has been doing
all this time, it is now getting late; let us go in, and he shall read to
us.’
‘I am getting old,’ said my father; ‘and I love to hear the Bible read to
me, for my own sight is something dim; yet I do not wish the child to
read to me this night, I cannot so soon forget what I have heard; but I
hear my eldest son’s voice, he is now entering the gate; he shall read
the Bible to us this night. What say you?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE ELDEST SON—SAYING OF WILD FINLAND—THE CRITICAL TIME—VAUNTING
POLLS—ONE THING WANTED—A FATHER’S BLESSING—MIRACLE OF ART—THE POPE’S
HOUSE—THE YOUNG ENTHUSIAST—PICTURES OF ENGLAND—PERSIST AND WRESTLE—OF THE
LITTLE DARK MAN
The eldest son! The regard and affection which my father entertained for
his first-born were natural enough, and appeared to none more so than
myself, who cherished the same feelings towards him. What he was as a
boy the reader already knows, for the reader has seen him as a boy; fain
would I describe him at the time of which I am now speaking, when he had
attained the verge of manhood, but the pen fails me, and I attempt not
the task; and yet it ought to be an easy one, for how frequently does his
form visit my mind’s eye in slumber and in wakefulness, in the light of
day and in the night watches; but last night I saw him in his beauty and
his strength; he was about to speak, and my ear was on the stretch, when
at once I awoke, and there was I alone, and the night storm was howling
amidst the branches of the pines which surround my lonely dwelling:
‘Listen to the moaning of the pine, at whose root thy hut is fastened,’—a
saying that, of wild Finland, in which there is wisdom; I listened and
thought of life and death. . . . Of all human beings that I have ever
known, that elder brother was the most frank and generous, ay, and the
quickest and readiest, and the best adapted to do a great thing needful
at the critical time, when the delay of a moment would be fatal. I have
known him dash from a steep bank into a stream in his full dress, and
pull out a man who was drowning; yet there were twenty others bathing in
the water, who might have saved him by putting out a hand, without
inconvenience to themselves, which, however, they did not do, but stared
with stupid surprise at the drowning one’s struggles. Yes, whilst some
shouted from the bank to those in the water to save the drowning one, and
those in the water did nothing, my brother neither shouted nor stood
still, but dashed from the bank and did the one thing needful, which,
under such circumstances, not one man in a million would have done. Now,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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