The Romany Rye

by George Borrow

  CHAPTER XXXII

  THE MORNING AFTER A FALL--THE TEAPOT--UNPRETENDING HOSPITALITY--THECHINESE STUDENT

  It might be about eight o'clock in the morning when I was awakened by theentrance of the old man. 'How have you rested?' said he, coming up tothe bedside, and looking me in the face. 'Well,' said I, 'and I feelmuch better, but I am still very sore.' I surveyed him now for the firsttime with attention. He was dressed in a sober-coloured suit, and wasapparently between sixty and seventy. In stature he was rather above themiddle height, but with a slight stoop, his features were placid, andexpressive of much benevolence, but, as it appeared to me, with rather amelancholy cast--as I gazed upon them, I felt ashamed that I should everhave conceived in my brain a vision like that of the preceding night, inwhich he appeared in so disadvantageous a light. At length he said, 'Itis now time for you to take some refreshment. I hear my old servantcoming up with your breakfast.' In a moment the elderly female enteredwith a tray, on which was some bread and butter, a teapot and cup. Thecup was of common blue earthenware, but the pot was of china, curiouslyfashioned, and seemingly of great antiquity. The old man poured me out acupful of tea, and then, with the assistance of the woman, raised mehigher, and propped me up with pillows. I ate and drank; when the potwas emptied of its liquid (it did not contain much), I raised it up withmy left hand to inspect it. The sides were covered with curiouscharacters, seemingly hieroglyphics. After surveying them for some time,I replaced it upon the tray. 'You seem fond of china,' said I to the oldman, after the servant had retired with the breakfast things, and I hadreturned to my former posture; 'you have china on the mantelpiece, andthat was a remarkable teapot out of which I have just been drinking.'

  The old man fixed his eyes intently on me, and methought the expressionof his countenance became yet more melancholy. 'Yes,' said he, at last,'I am fond of china--I have reason to be fond of china--but for china Ishould--' and here he sighed again.

  'You value it for the quaintness and singularity of its form,' said I;'it appears to be less adapted for real use than our own pottery.'

  'I care little about its form,' said the old man; 'I care for it simplyon account of--However, why talk to you on a subject which can have nopossible interest for you? I expect the surgeon here presently.'

  'I do not like that surgeon at all,' said I. 'How strangely he behavedlast night, coming back, when I was just falling asleep, to ask me if Iwould sell my horse.'

  The old man smiled. 'He has but one failing,' said he, 'an itch forhorse-dealing; but for that he might be a much richer man than he is; heis continually buying and exchanging horses, and generally finds himselfa loser by his bargains: but he is a worthy creature, and skilful in hisprofession--it is well for you that you are under his care.'

  The old man then left me, and in about an hour returned with the surgeon,who examined me and reported favourably as to my case. He spoke to mewith kindness and feeling, and did not introduce the subject of thehorse. I asked him whether he thought I should be in time for the fair.'I saw some people making their way thither to-day,' said he; 'the fairlasts three weeks, and it has just commenced. Yes, I think I may promiseyou that you will be in time for the very heat of it. In a few days youwill be able to mount your saddle with your arm in a sling, but you mustby no means appear with your arm in a sling at Horncastle, as peoplewould think your horse had flung you, and that you wanted to dispose ofhim because he was a vicious brute. You must, by all means, drop thesling before you get to Horncastle.'

  For three days I kept my apartment by the advice of the surgeon. Ipassed my time as I best could. Stretched on my bed, I either abandonedmyself to reflection, or listened to the voices of the birds in theneighbouring garden. Sometimes, as I lay awake at night, I wouldendeavour to catch the tick of a clock, which methought sounded from somedistant part of the house.

  The old man visited me twice or thrice every day to inquire into mystate. His words were few on these occasions, and he did not stay long.Yet his voice and his words were kind. What surprised me most inconnection with this individual was, the delicacy of conduct which heexhibited in not letting a word proceed from his lips which could testifycuriosity respecting who I was, or whence I came. All he knew of me was,that I had been flung from my horse on my way to a fair for the purposeof disposing of the animal; and that I was now his guest. I might be acommon horse-dealer for what he knew, yet I was treated by him with allthe attention which I could have expected had I been an alderman ofBoston's heir, and known to him as such. The county in which I am now,thought I at last, must be either extraordinarily devoted to hospitality,or this old host of mine must be an extraordinary individual. On theevening of the fourth day, feeling tired of my confinement, I put myclothes on in the best manner I could, and left the chamber. Descendinga flight of stairs, I reached a kind of quadrangle, from which branchedtwo or three passages; one of these I entered, which had a door at thefarther end, and one on each side; the one to the left standing partlyopen, I entered it, and found myself in a middle-sized room with a largewindow, or rather glass-door, which looked into a garden, and which stoodopen. There was nothing remarkable in this room, except a large quantityof china. There was china on the mantelpiece--china on two tables, and asmall beaufet, which stood opposite the glass-door, was covered withchina--there were cups, teapots, and vases of various forms, and on allof them I observed characters--not a teapot, not a teacup, not a vase ofwhatever form or size, but appeared to possess hieroglyphics on some partor other. After surveying these articles for some time with no littleinterest, I passed into the garden, in which there were small parterresof flowers, and two or three trees, and which, where the house did notabut, was bounded by a wall. Turning to the right by a walk by the sideof the house, I passed by a door--probably the one I had seen at the endof the passage--and arrived at another window similar to that throughwhich I had come, and which also stood open. I was about to pass by it,when I heard the voice of my entertainer exclaiming, 'Is that you? Praycome in.'

  I entered the room, which seemed to be a counterpart of the one which Ihad just left. It was of the same size, had the same kind of furniture,and appeared to be equally well stocked with china; one prominent articleit possessed, however, which the other room did not exhibit--namely, aclock, which, with its pendulum moving tick-a-tick, hung against the wallopposite to the door, the sight of which made me conclude that the soundwhich methought I had heard in the stillness of the night was not animaginary one. There it hung on the wall, with its pendulum movingtick-a-tick. The old gentleman was seated in an easy chair a little wayinto the room, having the glass door on his right hand. On a tablebefore him lay a large open volume, in which I observed Roman letters aswell as characters. A few inches beyond the book on the table, coveredall over with hieroglyphics, stood a china vase. The eyes of the old manwere fixed upon it.

  'Sit down,' said he, motioning me with his hand to a stool close by, butwithout taking his eyes from the vase. 'I can't make it out,' said he,at last, removing his eyes from the vase, and leaning back on thechair--'I can't make it out.'

  'I wish I could assist you,' said I.

  'Assist me,' said the old man, looking at me, with a half smile.

  'Yes,' said I, 'but I don't understand Chinese.'

  'I suppose not,' said the old man, with another slight smile;'but--but--'

  'Pray proceed,' said I.

  'I wished to ask you,' said the old man, 'how you knew that thecharacters on yon piece of crockery were Chinese; or, indeed, that therewas such a language?'

  'I knew the crockery was china,' said I, 'and naturally enough supposedwhat was written upon it to be Chinese; as for there being such alanguage--the English have a language, the French have a language, andwhy not the Chinese?'

  'May I ask you a question?'

  'As many as you like.'

  'Do you know any language besides English?'

  'Yes,' said I, 'I know a little of two or three.'

&
nbsp; 'May I ask their names?'

  'Why not?' said I. 'I know a little French.'

  'Anything else?'

  'Yes, a little Welsh, and a little Haik.'

  'What is Haik?'

  'Armenian.'

  'I am glad to see you in my house,' said the old man, shaking me by thehand; 'how singular that one coming as you did should know Armenian!'

  'Not more singular,' said I, 'than that one living in such a place asthis should know Chinese. How came you to acquire it?'

  The old man looked at me, and sighed. 'I beg pardon,' said I, 'forasking what is, perhaps, an impertinent question; I have not imitatedyour own delicacy; you have never asked me a question without firstdesiring permission, and here I have been days and nights in your housean intruder on your hospitality, and you have never so much as asked mewho I am.'

  'In forbearing to do that,' said the old man, 'I merely obeyed theChinese precept: "Ask no questions of a guest;" it is written on bothsides of the teapot out of which you have had your tea.'

  'I wish I knew Chinese,' said I. 'Is it a difficult language toacquire?'

  'I have reason to think so,' said the old man. 'I have been occupiedupon it five-and-thirty years, and I am still very imperfectly acquaintedwith it; at least, I frequently find upon my crockery sentences themeaning of which to me is very dark, though it is true these sentencesare mostly verses, which are, of course, more difficult to understandthan mere prose.'

  'Are your Chinese studies,' said I, 'confined to crockery literature?'

  'Entirely,' said the old man; 'I read nothing else.'

  'I have heard,' said I, 'that the Chinese have no letters, but that forevery word they have a separate character--is it so?'

  'For every word they have a particular character,' said the old man;'though, to prevent confusion, they have arranged their words under twohundred and fourteen what we should call radicals, but which they callkeys. As we arrange all our words in a dictionary under twenty-fourletters, so do they arrange all their words, or characters, under twohundred and fourteen radical signs; the simplest radicals being the firstand the more complex the last.'

  'Does the Chinese resemble any of the European languages in words?' saidI.

  'I am scarcely competent to inform you,' said the old man; 'but I believenot.'

  'What does that character represent?' said I, pointing to one on thevase.

  'A knife,' said the old man; 'that character is one of the simplestradicals or keys.'

  'And what is the sound of it?' said I.

  'Tau,' said the old man.

  'Tau!' said I--'tau!'

  'A strange word for a knife! is it not?' said the old man.

  'Tawse!' said I--'tawse!'

  'What is tawse?' said the old man.

  'You were never at school at Edinburgh, I suppose?'

  'Never,' said the old man.

  'That accounts for your not knowing the meaning of tawse,' said I; 'hadyou received the rudiments of a classical education at the High School,you would have known the meaning of tawse full well. It is a leathernthong, with which refractory urchins are recalled to a sense of theirduty by the dominie. Tau--tawse--how singular!'

  'I cannot see what the two words have in common, except a slightagreement in sound.'

  'You will see the connection,' said I, 'when I inform you that the thong,from the middle to the bottom, is cut or slit into two or three parts,from which slits or cuts, unless I am very much mistaken, it derives itsname--tawse, a thong with slits or cuts, used for chastising disorderlyurchins at the High School, from the French tailler, to cut; evidentlyconnected with the Chinese tau, a knife--how very extraordinary!'