lavengro- 第2部分

My　father　was　what　is　generally　termed　a　posthumous　child　…　in　

other　words；　the　gentillatre　who　begot　him　never　had　the　

satisfaction　of　invoking　the　blessing　of　the　Father　of　All　upon　his　

head；　having　departed　this　life　some　months　before　the　birth　of　his　

youngest　son。　　The　boy；　therefore；　never　knew　a　father's　care；　he　

was；　however；　well　tended　by　his　mother；　whose　favourite　he　was；　so　

much　so；　indeed；　that　his　brethren；　the　youngest　of　whom　was　

considerably　older　than　himself；　were　rather　jealous　of　him。　　I　

never　heard；　however；　that　they　treated　him　with　any　marked　

unkindness；　and　it　will　be　as　well　to　observe　here　that　I　am　by　no　

means　well　acquainted　with　his　early　history；　of　which；　indeed；　as　

I　am　not　writing　his　life；　it　is　not　necessary　to　say　much。　　

Shortly　after　his　mother's　death；　which　occurred　when　he　was　

eighteen；　he　adopted　the　profession　of　arms；　which　he　followed　

during　the　remainder　of　his　life；　and　in　which；　had　circumstances　

permitted；　he　would　probably　have　shone　amongst　the　best。　　By　

nature　he　was　cool　and　collected；　slow　to　anger；　though　perfectly　

fearless；　patient　of　control；　of　great　strength；　and；　to　crown　all；　

a　proper　man　with　his　hands。



With　far　inferior　qualifications　many　a　man　has　become　a　field…

marshal　or　general；　similar　ones　made　Tamerlane；　who　was　not　a　

gentillatre；　but　the　son　of　a　blacksmith；　emperor　of　one…third　of　

the　world；　but　the　race　is　not　always　for　the　swift；　nor　the　battle　

for　the　strong；　indeed　I　ought　rather　to　say　very　seldom；　certain　

it　is；　that　my　father；　with　all　his　high　military　qualifications；　

never　became　emperor；　field…marshal；　or　even　general：　　indeed；　he　

had　never　an　opportunity　of　distinguishing　himself　save　in　one　

battle；　and　that　took　place　neither　in　Flanders；　Egypt；　nor　on　the　

banks　of　the　Indus　or　Oxus；　but　in　Hyde　Park。



Smile　not；　gentle　reader；　many　a　battle　has　been　fought　in　Hyde　

Park；　in　which　as　much　skill；　science；　and　bravery　have　been　

displayed　as　ever　achieved　a　victory　in　Flanders　or　by　the　Indus。　　

In　such　a　combat　as　that　to　which　I　allude；　I　opine　that　even　

Wellington　or　Napoleon　would　have　been　heartily　glad　to　cry　for　

quarter　ere　the　lapse　of　five　minutes；　and　even　the　Blacksmith　

Tartar　would；　perhaps；　have　shrunk　from　the　opponent　with　whom；　

after　having　had　a　dispute　with　him；　my　father　engaged　in　single　

combat　for　one　hour；　at　the　end　of　which　time　the　champions　shook　

hands　and　retired；　each　having　experienced　quite　enough　of　the　

other's　prowess。　　The　name　of　my　father's　antagonist　was　Brain。



What！　still　a　smile？　did　you　never　hear　that　name　before？　　I　cannot　

help　it！　　Honour　to　Brain；　who　four　months　after　the　event　which　I　

have　now　narrated　was　champion　of　England；　having　conquered　the　

heroic　Johnson。　　Honour　to　Brain；　who；　at　the　end　of　other　four　

months；　worn　out　by　the　dreadful　blows　which　he　had　received　in　his　

manly　combats；　expired　in　the　arms　of　my　father；　who　read　the　Bible　

to　him　in　his　latter　moments　…　Big　Ben　Brain。



You　no　longer　smile；　even　YOU　have　heard　of　Big　Ben。



I　have　already　hinted　that　my　father　never　rose　to　any　very　exalted　

rank　in　his　profession；　notwithstanding　his　prowess　and　other　

qualifications。　　After　serving　for　many　years　in　the　line；　he　at　

last　entered　as　captain　in　the　militia　regiment　of　the　Earl　of　…；　

at　that　period　just　raised；　and　to　which　he　was　sent　by　the　Duke　of　

York　to　instruct　the　young　levies　in　military　manoeuvres　and　

discipline；　and　in　this　mission　I　believe　he　perfectly　succeeded；　

competent　judges　having　assured　me　that　the　regiment　in　question　

soon　came　by　his　means　to　be　considered　as　one　of　the　most　

brilliant　in　the　service；　and　inferior　to　no　regiment　of　the　line　

in　appearance　or　discipline。



As　the　headquarters　of　this　corps　were　at　D…　the　duties　of　my　

father　not　unfrequently　carried　him　to　that　place；　and　it　was　on　

one　of　these　occasions　that　he　became　acquainted　with　a　young　

person　of　the　neighbourhood；　for　whom　he　formed　an　attachment；　

which　was　returned；　and　this　young　person　was　my　mother。



She　was　descended　from　a　family　of　French　Protestants；　natives　of　

Caen；　who　were　obliged　to　leave　their　native　country　when　old　

Louis；　at　the　instigation　of　the　Pope；　thought　fit　to　revoke　the　

Edict　of　Nantes：　　their　name　was　Petrement；　and　I　have　reason　for　

believing　that　they　were　people　of　some　consideration；　that　they　

were　noble　hearts；　and　good　Christians；　they　gave　sufficient　proof　

in　scorning　to　bow　the　knee　to　the　tyranny　of　Rome。　　So　they　left　

beautiful　Normandy　for　their　faith's　sake；　and　with　a　few　louis　

d'ors　in　their　purse；　a　Bible　in　the　vulgar　tongue；　and　a　couple　of　

old　swords；　which；　if　report　be　true；　had　done　service　in　the　

Huguenot　wars；　they　crossed　the　sea　to　the　isle　of　civil　peace　and　

religious　liberty；　and　established　themselves　in　East　Anglia。



And　many　other　Huguenot　families　bent　their　steps　thither；　and　

devoted　themselves　to　agriculture　or　the　mechanical　arts；　and　in　

the　venerable　old　city；　the　capital　of　the　province；　in　the　

northern　shadow　of　the　Castle　of　De　Burgh；　the　exiles　built　for　

themselves　a　church　where　they　praised　God　in　the　French　tongue；　

and　to　which；　at　particular　seasons　of　the　year；　they　were　in　the　

habit　of　flocking　from　country　and　from　town　to　sing　…



'Thou　hast　provided　for　us　a　goodly　earth；　thou　waterest　her　

furrows；　thou　sendest　rain　into　the　little　valleys　thereof；　thou　

makest　it　soft　with　the　drops　of　rain；　and　blessest　the　increase　of　

it。'



I　have　been　told　that　in　her　younger　days　my　mother　was　strikingly　

handsome；　this　I　can　easily　believe：　　I　never　knew　her　in　her　

youth；　for　though　she　was　very　young　when　she　married　my　father　

（who　was　her　senior　by　many　years）；　she　had　attained　the　middle　age　

before　I　was　born；　no　children　having　been　vouchsafed　to　my　parents　

in　the　early　stages　of　their　union。　　Yet　even　at　the　present　day；　

now　that　years　threescore　and　ten　have　passed　over　her　head；　

attended　with　sorrow　and　troubles　manifold；　poorly　chequered　with　

scanty　joys；　can　I　look　on　that　countenance　and　doubt　that　at　one　

time　beauty　decked　it　as　with　a　glorious　garment？　　Hail　to　thee；　my　

parent！　as　thou　sittest　there；　in　thy　widow's　weeds；　in　the　dusky　

parlour　in　the　house　overgrown　with　the　lustrous　ivy　of　the　sister　

isle；　the　solitary　house　at　the　end　of　the　retired　court　shaded　by　

lofty　poplars。　　Hail　to　thee；　dame　of　the　oval　face；　olive　

complexion；　and　Grecian　forehead；　by　thy　table　seated　with　the　

mighty　volume　of　the　good　Bishop　Hopkins　spread　out　before　thee；　

there　is　peace　in　thy　countenance；　my　mother；　it　is　not　worldly　

peace；　however；　not　the　deceitful　peace　which　lulls　to　bewitching　

slumbers；　and　from　which；　let　us　pray；　humbly　pray；　that　every　

sinner　may　be　roused　in　time　to　implore　mercy　not　in　vain！　　Thine　

is　the　peace　of　the　righteous；　my　mother；　of　those　to　whom　no　sin　

can　be　imputed；　the　score　of　whose　misdeeds　has　been　long　since　

washed　away　by　the　blood　of　atonement；　which　imputeth　righteousness　

to　those　who　trust　in　it。　　It　was　not　always　thus；　my　mother；　a　

time　was；　when　the　cares；　pomps；　and　vanities　of　this　world　

agitated　thee　too　much；　but　that　time　is　gone　by；　another　and　a　

better　has　succeeded；　there　is　peace　now　on　thy　countenance；　the　

true　peace；　peace　around　thee；　too；　in　thy　solitary　dwelling；　

sounds　of　peace；　the　cheerful　hum　of　the　kettle　and　the　purring　of　

the　immense　angola；　which　stares　up　at　thee　from　its　settle　with　

its　almost　human　eyes。



No　more　earthly　cares　and　affections　now；　my　mother！　　Yes；　one。　　

Why　dost　thou　suddenly　raise　thy　dark　and　still　brilliant　eye　from　

the　volume　with　a　somewhat　startled　glance？　　What　noise　is　that　in　

the　distant　street？　　Merely　the　noise　of　a　hoof；　a　sound　common　

enough：　　it　draws　nearer；　nearer；　and　now　it　stops　before　thy　gate。　　

Singular！　　And　now　there　is　a　pause；　a　long　pause。　　Ha！　thou　

hearest　something　…　a　footstep；　a　swift　but　heavy　footstep！　thou　

risest；　thou　tremblest；　there　is　a　hand　on　the　pin　of　the　outer　

door；　there　is　some　one　in　the　vestibule；　and　now　the　door　of　thy　

apartment　opens；　there　is　a　reflection　on　the　mirror　behind　thee；　a　

travelling　hat；　a　gray　head　and　sunburnt　face。　　My　dearest　Son！　…　

My　darling　Mother！



Yes；　mother；　thou　didst　recognise　in　the　distant　street　the　hoof…

tramp　of　the　wanderer's　horse。



I　was　not　the　only　child　of　my　parents；　I　had　a　brother　some　three　

years　older　than　myself。　　He　was　a　beautiful　child；　one　of　those　

occasionally　seen　in　England；　and　in　England　alone；　a　rosy；　angelic　

face；　blue　eyes；　and　light　chestnut　hair；　it　was　not　exactly　an　

Anglo…Saxon　countenance；　in　which；　by　the　bye；　there　is　generally　a　

cast　of　loutishness　and　stupidity；　it　partook；　to　a　certain　extent；　

of　the　Celtic　character；　particularly　in　the　fire　and　vivacity　

which　illumined　it；　his　face　was　the　mirror　of　his　mind；　perhaps　no　

disposition　more　amiable　was　ever　found　amongst　the　children　of　

Adam；　united；　however；　with　no　inconsiderable　portion　of　high　and　

dauntless　spirit。　　So　great　was　his　beauty　in　infancy；　that　people；　

especially　those　of　the　poorer　classes；　would　follow　the　nurse　who　

carried　him　about　in　order　to　look　at　and　bless　his　lovely　face。　　

At　the　age　of　three　months　an　attempt　was　made　to　snatch　him　from　

his　mother's　arms　in　the　streets　of　London；　at　the　moment　she　was　

about　to　enter　a　coach；　indeed；　his　appearance　seemed　to　operate　so　

powerfully　upon　every　person　who　beheld　him；　that　my　parents　were　

under　continual　apprehension　of　losing　him；　his　beauty；　however；　

was　perhaps　surpassed　by　the　quickness　of　his　parts。　　He　mastered　

his　letters　in　a　few　hours；　and　in　a　day　or　two　could　decipher　the　

names　of　people　on　the　doors　of　houses　and　over　the　shop…windows。



As　he　grew　up；　his　personal　appearance　became　less　preposses