lavengro-第33部分

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words；　〃I　have　been　young　and　now　am　grown　old；　yet　never　have　I　

seen　the　righteous　man　forsaken；　or　his　seed　begging　their　bread。〃'



I　have　heard　talk　of　the　pleasures　of　idleness；　yet　it　is　my　own　

firm　belief　that　no　one　ever　yet　took　pleasure　in　it。　　Mere　

idleness　is　the　most　disagreeable　state　of　existence；　and　both　mind　

and　body　are　continually　making　efforts　to　escape　from　it。　　It　has　

been　said　that　idleness　is　the　parent　of　mischief；　which　is　very　

true；　but　mischief　itself　is　merely　an　attempt　to　escape　from　the　

dreary　vacuum　of　idleness。　　There　are　many　tasks　and　occupations　

which　a　man　is　unwilling　to　perform；　but　let　no　one　think　that　he　

is　therefore　in　love　with　idleness；　he　turns　to　something　which　is　

more　agreeable　to　his　inclination；　and　doubtless　more　suited　to　his　

nature；　but　he　is　not　in　love　with　idleness。　　A　boy　may　play　the　

truant　from　school　because　he　dislikes　books　and　study；　but；　depend　

upon　it；　he　intends　doing　something　the　while　…　to　go　fishing；　or　

perhaps　to　take　a　walk；　and　who　knows　but　that　from　such　excursions　

both　his　mind　and　body　may　derive　more　benefit　than　from　books　and　

school？　　Many　people　go　to　sleep　to　escape　from　idleness；　the　

Spaniards　do；　and；　according　to　the　French　account；　John　Bull；　the　

'squire；　hangs　himself　in　the　month　of　November；　but　the　French；　

who　are　a　very　sensible　people；　attribute　the　action　A　UNE　GRANDE　

ENVIE　DE　SE　DESENNUYER；　he　wishes　to　be　doing　something；　say　they；　

and　having　nothing　better　to　do；　he　has　recourse　to　the　cord。



It　was　for　want　of　something　better　to　do　that；　shortly　after　my　

return　home；　I　applied　myself　to　the　study　of　languages。　　By　the　

acquisition　of　Irish；　with　the　first　elements　of　which　I　had　become　

acquainted　under　the　tuition　of　Murtagh；　I　had　contracted　a　certain　

zest　and　inclination　for　the　pursuit。　　Yet　it　is　probable　that　had　

I　been　launched　about　this　time　into　some　agreeable　career；　that　of　

arms　for　example；　for　which；　being　the　son　of　a　soldier；　I　had；　as　

was　natural；　a　sort　of　penchant；　I　might　have　thought　nothing　more　

of　the　acquisition　of　tongues　of　any　kind；　but；　having　nothing　to　

do；　I　followed　the　only　course　suited　to　my　genius　which　appeared　

open　to　me。



So　it　came　to　pass　that　one　day；　whilst　wandering　listlessly　about　

the　streets　of　the　old　town；　I　came　to　a　small　book…stall；　and　

stopping；　commenced　turning　over　the　books；　I　took　up　at　least　a　

dozen；　and　almost　instantly　flung　them　down。　　What　were　they　to　me？　　

At　last；　coming　to　a　thick　volume；　I　opened　it；　and　after　

inspecting　its　contents　for　a　few　minutes；　I　paid　for　it　what　was　

demanded；　and　forthwith　carried　it　home。



It　was　a　tessaraglot　grammar；　a　strange　old　book；　printed　somewhere　

in　Holland；　which　pretended　to　be　an　easy　guide　to　the　acquirement　

of　the　French；　Italian；　Low　Dutch；　and　English　tongues；　by　means　of　

which　any　one　conversant　in　any　one　of　these　languages　could　make　

himself　master　of　the　other　three。　　I　turned　my　attention　to　the　

French　and　Italian。　　The　old　book　was　not　of　much　value；　I　derived　

some　benefit　from　it；　however；　and；　conning　it　intensely；　at　the　

end　of　a　few　weeks　obtained　some　insight　into　the　structure　of　

these　two　languages。　　At　length　I　had　learnt　all　that　the　book　was　

capable　of　informing　me；　yet　was　still　far　from　the　goal　to　which　

it　had　promised　to　conduct　me。　　'I　wish　I　had　a　master！'　I　

exclaimed；　and　the　master　was　at　hand。　　In　an　old　court　of　the　old　

town　lived　a　certain　elderly　personage；　perhaps　sixty；　or　

thereabouts；　he　was　rather　tall；　and　something　of　a　robust　make；　

with　a　countenance　in　which　bluffness　was　singularly　blended　with　

vivacity　and　grimace；　and　with　a　complexion　which　would　have　been　

ruddy；　but　for　a　yellow　hue　which　rather　predominated。　　His　dress　

consisted　of　a　snuff…coloured　coat　and　drab　pantaloons；　the　former　

evidently　seldom　subjected　to　the　annoyance　of　a　brush；　and　the　

latter　exhibiting　here　and　there　spots　of　something　which；　if　not　

grease；　bore　a　strong　resemblance　to　it；　add　to　these　articles　an　

immense　frill；　seldom　of　the　purest　white；　but　invariably　of　the　

finest　French　cambric；　and　you　have　some　idea　of　his　dress。　　He　had　

rather　a　remarkable　stoop；　but　his　step　was　rapid　and　vigorous；　and　

as　he　hurried　along　the　streets；　he　would　glance　to　the　right　and　

left　with　a　pair　of　big　eyes　like　plums；　and　on　recognising　any　one　

would　exalt　a　pair　of　grizzled　eyebrows；　and　slightly　kiss　a　tawny　

and　ungloved　hand。　　At　certain　hours　of　the　day　be　might　be　seen　

entering　the　doors　of　female　boarding…schools；　generally　with　a　

book　in　his　hand；　and　perhaps　another　just　peering　from　the　orifice　

of　a　capacious　back　pocket；　and　at　a　certain　season　of　the　year　he　

might　be　seen；　dressed　in　white；　before　the　altar　of　a　certain　

small　popish　chapel；　chanting　from　the　breviary　in　very　

intelligible　Latin；　or　perhaps　reading　from　the　desk　in　utterly　

unintelligible　English。　　Such　was　my　preceptor　in　the　French　and　

Italian　tongues。　　'Exul　sacerdos；　vone　banished　priest。　　I　came　

into　England　twenty…five　year　ago；　〃my　dear。〃'







CHAPTER　XV







Monsieur　Dante　…　Condemned　musket　…　Sporting　…　Sweet　rivulet　…　The　

Earl's　Home　…　The　pool　…　The　sonorous　voice　…　What　dost　thou　read？　

…　Man　of　peace　…　Zohar　and　Mishna　…　Money…changers。



So　I　studied　French　and　Italian　under　the　tuition　of　the　banished　

priest；　to　whose　house　I　went　regularly　every　evening　to　receive　

instruction。　　I　made　considerable　progress　in　the　acquisition　of　

the　two　languages。　　I　found　the　French　by　far　the　most　difficult；　

chiefly　on　account　of　the　accent；　which　my　master　himself　possessed　

in　no　great　purity；　being　a　Norman　by　birth。　　The　Italian　was　my　

favourite。



'Vous　serez　un　jour　un　grand　philologue；　mon　cher；'　said　the　old　

man；　on　our　arriving　at　the　conclusion　of　Dante's　Hell。



'I　hope　I　shall　be　something　better；'　said　I；　'before　I　die；　or　I　

shall　have　lived　to　little　purpose。'



'That's　true；　my　dear！　philologist　…　one　small　poor　dog。　　What　

would　you　wish　to　be？'



'Many　things　sooner　than　that；　for　example；　I　would　rather　be　like　

him　who　wrote　this　book。'



'Quoi；　Monsieur　Dante？　　He　was　a　vagabond；　my　dear；　forced　to　fly　

from　his　country。　　No；　my　dear；　if　you　would　be　like　one　poet；　be　

like　Monsieur　Boileau；　he　is　the　poet。'



'I　don't　think　so。'



'How；　not　think　so？　　He　wrote　very　respectable　verses；　lived　and　

died　much　respected　by　everybody。　　T'other；　one　bad　dog；　forced　to　

fly　from　his　country　…　died　with　not　enough　to　pay　his　undertaker。'



'Were　you　not　forced　to　flee　from　your　country？'



'That　very　true；　but　there　is　much　difference　between　me　and　this　

Dante。　　He　fled　from　country　because　he　had　one　bad　tongue　which　he　

shook　at　his　betters。　　I　fly　because　benefice　gone；　and　head　going；　

not　on　account　of　the　badness　of　my　tongue。'



'Well；'　said　I；　'you　can　return　now；　the　Bourbons　a