lavengro-第52章

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pinch　of　snuff；　to　those　who　can't　take　it；　silent　contempt；　at　

first　it　made　the　publisher　more　furious；　as　perhaps　a　pinch　of　

snuff　would；　it；　however；　eventually　calmed　him；　and　he　ordered　me　

back　to　my　occupations；　in　other　words；　the　compilation。　　To　be　

brief；　the　compilation　was　completed；　I　got　paid　in　the　usual　

manner；　and　forthwith　left　him。



He　was　a　clever　man；　but　what　a　difference　in　clever　men！







CHAPTER　XLIV







The　old　spot　…　A　long　history　…　Thou　shalt　not　steal　…　No　harm　…　

Education　…　Necessity　…　Foam　on　your　lip　…　Apples　and　pears　…　What　

will　you　read？　…　Metaphor　…　The　fur　cap　…　I　don't　know　him。



IT　was　past　midwinter；　and　I　sat　on　London　Bridge；　in　company　with　

the　old　apple…woman：　　she　had　just　returned　to　the　other　side　of　

the　bridge；　to　her　place　in　the　booth　where　I　had　originally　found　

her。　　This　she　had　done　after　frequent　conversations　with　me；　'she　

liked　the　old　place　best；'　she　said；　which　she　would　never　have　

left　but　for　the　terror　which　she　experienced　when　the　boys　ran　

away　with　her　book。　　So　I　sat　with　her　at　the　old　spot；　one　

afternoon　past　midwinter；　reading　the　book；　of　which　I　had　by　this　

time　come　to　the　last　pages。　　I　had　observed　that　the　old　woman　for　

some　time　past　had　shown　much　less　anxiety　about　the　book　than　she　

had　been　in　the　habit　of　doing。　　I　was；　however；　not　quite　prepared　

for　her　offering　to　make　me　a　present　of　it；　which　she　did　that　

afternoon；　when；　having　finished　it；　I　returned　it　to　her；　with　

many　thanks　for　the　pleasure　and　instruction　I　had　derived　from　its　

perusal。　　'You　may　keep　it；　dear；'　said　the　old　woman；　with　a　sigh；　

'you　may　carry　it　to　your　lodging；　and　keep　it　for　your　own。'



Looking　at　the　old　woman　with　surprise；　I　exclaimed；　'Is　it　

possible　that　you　are　willing　to　part　with　the　book　which　has　been　

your　source　of　comfort　so　long？'



Whereupon　the　old　woman　entered　into　a　long　history；　from　which　I　

gathered　that　the　book　had　become　distasteful　to　her；　she　hardly　

ever　opened　it　of　late；　she　said；　or　if　she　did；　it　was　only　to　

shut　it　again；　also；　that　other　things　which　she　had　been　fond　of；　

though　of　a　widely　different　kind；　were　now　distasteful　to　her。　　

Porter　and　beef…steaks　were　no　longer　grateful　to　her　palate；　her　

present　diet　chiefly　consisting　of　tea；　and　bread　and　butter。



'Ah；'　said　I；　'you　have　been　ill；　and　when　people　are　ill；　they　

seldom　like　the　things　which　give　them　pleasure　when　they　are　in　

health。'　　I　learned；　moreover；　that　she　slept　little　at　night；　and　

had　all　kinds　of　strange　thoughts；　that　as　she　lay　awake　many　

things　connected　with　her　youth；　which　she　had　quite　forgotten；　

came　into　her　mind。　　There　were　certain　words　that　came　into　her　

mind　the　night　before　the　last；　which　were　continually　humming　in　

her　ears：　　I　found　that　the　words　were；　'Thou　shalt　not　steal。'



On　inquiring　where　she　had　first　heard　these　words；　I　learned　that　

she　had　read　them　at　school；　in　a　book　called　the　primer；　to　this　

school　she　had　been　sent　by　her　mother；　who　was　a　poor　widow；　and　

followed　the　trade　of　apple…selling　in　the　very　spot　where　her　

daughter　followed　it　now。　　It　seems　that　the　mother　was　a　very　good　

kind　of　woman；　but　quite　ignorant　of　letters；　the　benefit　of　which　

she　was　willing　to　procure　for　her　child；　and　at　the　school　the　

daughter　learned　to　read；　and　subsequently　experienced　the　pleasure　

and　benefit　of　letters；　in　being　able　to　read　the　book　which　she　

found　in　an　obscure　closet　of　her　mother's　house；　and　which　had　

been　her　principal　companion　and　comfort　for　many　years　of　her　

life。



But；　as　I　have　said　before；　she　was　now　dissatisfied　with　the　book；　

and　with　most　other　things　in　which　she　had　taken　pleasure；　she　

dwelt　much　on　the　words；　'Thou　shalt　not　steal'；　she　had　never　

stolen　things　herself；　but　then　she　had　bought　things　which　other　

people　had　stolen；　and　which　she　knew　had　been　stolen；　and　her　dear　

son　had　been　a　thief；　which　he　perhaps　would　not　have　been　but　for　

the　example　which　she　set　him　in　buying　things　from　characters；　as　

she　called　them；　who　associated　with　her。



On　inquiring　how　she　had　become　acquainted　with　these　characters；　I　

learned　that　times　had　gone　hard　with　her；　that　she　had　married；　

but　her　husband　had　died　after　a　long　sickness；　which　had　reduced　

them　to　great　distress；　that　her　fruit　trade　was　not　a　profitable　

one；　and　that　she　had　bought　and　sold　things　which　had　been　stolen　

to　support　herself　and　her　son。　　That　for　a　long　time　she　supposed　

there　was　no　harm　in　doing　so；　as　her　book　was　full　of　entertaining　

tales　of　stealing；　but　she　now　thought　that　the　book　was　a　bad　

book；　and　that　learning　to　read　was　a　bad　thing；　her　mother　had　

never　been　able　to　read；　but　had　died　in　peace；　though　poor。



So　here　was　a　woman　who　attributed　the　vices　and　follies　of　her　

life　to　being　able　to　read；　her　mother；　she　said；　who　could　not　

read；　lived　respectably；　and　died　in　peace；　and　what　was　the　

essential　difference　between　the　mother　and　daughter；　save　that　the　

latter　could　read？　　But　for　her　literature　she　might　in　all　

probability　have　lived　respectably　and　honestly；　like　her　mother；　

and　might　eventually　have　died　in　peace；　which　at　present　she　could　

scarcely　hope　to　do。　　Education　had　failed　to　produce　any　good　in　

this　poor　woman；　on　the　contrary；　there　could　be　little　doubt　that　

she　had　been　injured　by　it。　　Then　was　education　a　bad　thing？　　

Rousseau　was　of　opinion　that　it　was；　but　Rousseau　was　a　Frenchman；　

at　least　wrote　in　French；　and　I　cared　not　the　snap　of　my　fingers　

for　Rousseau。　　But　education　has　certainly　been　of　benefit　in　some　

instances；　well；　what　did　that　prove；　but　that　partiality　existed　

in　the　management　of　the　affairs　of　the　world　…　if　education　was　a　

benefit　to　some；　why　was　it　not　a　benefit　to　others？　　Could　some　

avoid　abusing　it；　any　more　than　others　could　avoid　turning　it　to　a　

profitable　account？　　I　did　not　see　how　they　could；　this　poor　simple　

woman　found　a　book　in　her　mother's　closet；　a　book；　which　was　a　

capital　book　for　those　who　could　turn　it　to　the　account　for　which　

it　was　intended；　a　book；　from　the　perusal　of　which　I　felt　myself　

wiser　and　better；　but　which　was　by　no　means　suited　to　the　intellect　

of　this　poor　simple　woman；　who　thought　that　it　was　written　in　

praise　of　thieving；　yet　she　found　it；　she　read　it；　and　…　and　…　I　

felt　myself　getting　into　a　maze；　what　is　right；　thought　I？　what　is　

wrong？　　Do　I　exist？　　Does　the　world　exist？　if　it　does；　every　action　

is　bound　up　with　necessity。



'Necessity！'　I　exclaimed；　and　cracked　my　finger…joints。



'Ah；　it　is　a　bad　thing；'　said　the　old　woman。



'What　is　a　bad　thing？'　said　I。



'Why　to　be　poor；　dear。'



'You　talk　like　a　fool；'　said　I；　'riches　and　poverty　are　only　

different　forms　of　necessity。'



'You　should　not　call　me　a　fool；　dear；　you　should　not　call　your　own　

mother　a　fool。'



'You　are　not　my　mother；'　said　I。



'Not　your　mother；　dear？　…　no；　no　more　I　am；　but　your　calling　me　

fool　put　me　in　mind　of　my　dear　son；　who　often　used　to　call　me　fool　

…　and　you　just　now　looked　as　he　sometimes　did；　with　a　blob　of　foam　

on　your　lip。'



'After　all；　I　don't　know　that　you　are　not　my　mother。'



'Don't　you；　dear？　　I'm　glad　of　it；　I　wish　you　would　make　it　out。'



'How　should　I　make　it　out？　who　can　speak　from　his　own　knowledge　as　

to　the　circumstances　of　his　birth？　　Besides；　before　attempting　to　

establish　our　relationship；　it　would　be　necessary　to　prove　that　

such　people　exist。'



'What　people；　dear？'



'You　and　I。'



'Lord；　child；　you　are　mad；　that　book　has　made　you　so。'



'Don't　abuse　it；'　said　I；　'the　book　is　an　excellent　one；　that　is；　

provided　it　exists。'



'I　wish　it　did　not；'　said　the　old　woman；　'but　it　shan't　long；　I'll　

burn　it；　or　fling　it　into　the　river　…　the　voices　at　night　tell　me　

to　do　so。'



'Tell　the　voices；'　said　I；　'that　they　talk　nonsense；　the　book；　if　

it　exists；　is　a　good　book；　it　contains　a　deep　moral；　have　you　read　

it　all？'



'All　the　funny　parts；　dear；　all　about　taking　things；　and　the　manner　

it　was　done；　as　for　the　rest；　I　could　not　exactly　make　it　out。'



'Then　the　book　is　not　to　blame；　I　repeat　that　the　book　is　a　good　

book；　and　contains　deep　morality；　always　supposing　that　there　is　

such　a　thing　as　morality；　which　is　the　same　thing　as　supposing　that　

there　is　anything　at　all。'



'Anything　at　all！　　Why　ain't　we　here　on　this　bridge；　in　my　booth；　

with　my　stall　and　my　…　'



'Apples　and　pears；　baked　hot；　you　would　say　…　I　don't　know；　all　is　

a　mystery；　a　deep　question。　　It　is　a　question；　and　probably　always　

will　be；　whether　there　is　a　world；　and　consequently　apples　and　

pears；　and；　provided　there　be　a　world；　whether　that　world　be　like　

an　apple　or　a　pear。'



'Don't　talk　so；　dear。'



'I　won't；　we　will　suppose　that　we　all　exist　…　world；　ourselves；　

apples；　and　pears：　　so　you　wish　to　get　rid　of　the　book？'



'Yes；　dear；　I　wish　you　would　take　it。'



'I　have　read　it；　and　have　no　farther　use　for　it；　I　do　not　need　

books：　　in　a　little　time；　perhaps；　I　shall　not　have　a　place　wherein　

to　deposit　myself；　far　less　books。'



'Then　I　will　fling　it　into　the　river。'



'Don't　do　that；　here；　give　it　me。　　Now　what　shall　I　do　with　it？　you　

were　so　fond　of　it。'



'I　am　so　no　longer。'



'But　how　will　you　pass　your　time；　what　will　you　read？'



'I　wish　I　had　never　learned　to　read；　or；　if　I　had；　that　I　had　only　

read　the　books　I　saw　at　school：　　the　primer　or　the　other。'



'What　was　the　other？'



'I　think　they　called　it　the　Bible：　　all　about　God；　and　Job；　and　

Jesus。'



'Ah；　I　know　it。'



'You　have　read　it；　is　it　a　nice　book　…　all　true？'



'True；　true　…　I　don't　know　what　to　say；　but　if　the　world　be　true；　

and　not　all　a　lie；　a　fiction；　I　don't　see　why　the　Bible；　as　they　

call　it；　should　not　be　true。　　By　the　bye；　what　do　you　call　Bible　in　

your　tongue；　or；　indeed；　book　of　any　kind？　as　Bible　merely　means　a　

book。'



'What　do　I　call　the　Bible　in　my　language；　dear？'



'Yes；　the　language　of　those　who　bring　you　things。'



'The　language　of　those　who　DID；　dear；　they　bring　them　now　no　

longer。　　They　call　me　fool；　as　you　did；　dear；　just　now；　they　call　

kissing　the　Bible；　which　means　taking　a　false　oath；　smacking　calf…

skin。'



'That's　metaphor；'　said　I；　'English；　but　metaphorical；　what　an　odd　

language！　　So　you　would　like　to　have　a　Bible；　…　shall　I　buy　you　

one？'



'I　am　poor；　dear　…　no　money　since　I　left　off　the　other　trade。'



'Well；　then；　I'll　buy　you　one。'



'No；　dear；　no；　you　are　poor；　and　may　soon　want　the　money；　but　if　

you　can　take　me　one　conveniently　on　the　sly；　you　know　…　I　think　you　

may；　for；　as　it　is　a　good　book；　I　suppose　there　can　be　no　harm　in　

taking　it。'



'That　will　never　do；'　said　I；　'more　especially　as　I　should　be　sure