The Romany Rye

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE SINGULAR NOISE--SLEEPING IN A MEADOW--THE BOOK--CURE FORWAKEFULNESS--LITERARY TEA-PARTY--POOR BYRON

  I did not awake till rather late the next morning; and when I did, I feltconsiderable drowsiness, with a slight headache, which I was uncharitableenough to attribute to the mead which I had drank on the preceding day.After feeding my horse, and breakfasting, I proceeded on my wanderings.Nothing occurred worthy of relating till mid-day was considerably past,when I came to a pleasant valley, between two gentle hills. I haddismounted, in order to ease my horse, and was leading him along by thebridle, when, on my right, behind a bank in which some umbrageous asheswere growing, I heard a singular noise. I stopped short and listened,and presently said to myself, 'Surely this is snoring, perhaps that of ahedgehog.' On further consideration, however, I was convinced that thenoise which I heard, and which certainly seemed to be snoring, could notpossibly proceed from the nostrils of so small an animal, but must rathercome from those of a giant, so loud and sonorous was it. About two orthree yards further was a gate, partly open, to which I went, and peepinginto the field, saw a man lying on some rich grass, under the shade ofone of the ashes; he was snoring away at a great rate. Impelled bycuriosity, I fastened the bridle of my horse to the gate, and went up tothe man. He was a genteely-dressed individual, rather corpulent, withdark features, and seemingly about forty-five. He lay on his back, hishat slightly over his brow, and at his right hand lay an open book. Sostrenuously did he snore that the wind from his nostrils agitated,perceptibly, a fine cambric frill which he wore at his bosom. I gazedupon him for some time, expecting that he might awake; but he did not,but kept on snoring, his breast heaving convulsively. At last, the noisehe made became so terrible, that I felt alarmed for his safety, imaginingthat a fit might seize him, and he lose his life whilst asleep. Itherefore exclaimed, 'Sir, sir, awake! you sleep overmuch.' But my voicefailed to rouse him, and he continued snoring as before; whereupon Itouched him slightly with my riding wand, but failing to wake him, Itouched him again more vigorously; whereupon he opened his eyes, and,probably imagining himself in a dream, closed them again. But I wasdetermined to arouse him, and cried as loud as I could, 'Sir, sir, praysleep no more!' He heard what I said, opened his eyes again, stared atme with a look of some consciousness, and, half raising himself upon hiselbows, asked me what was the matter. 'I beg your pardon,' said I, 'butI took the liberty of awaking you because you appeared to be muchdisturbed in your sleep--I was fearful, too, that you might catch a feverfrom sleeping under a tree.' 'I run no risk,' said the man, 'I oftencome and sleep here; and as for being disturbed in my sleep, I felt verycomfortable; I wish you had not awoken me.' 'Well,' said I, 'I beg yourpardon once more. I assure you that what I did was with the bestintention.' 'Oh! pray make no farther apology,' said the individual, 'Imake no doubt that what you did was done kindly; but there's an oldproverb, to the effect, "that you should let sleeping dogs lie,"' headded, with a smile. Then, getting up, and stretching himself with ayawn, he took up his book and said, 'I have slept quite long enough, andit's quite time for me to be going home.' 'Excuse my curiosity,' said I,'if I inquire what may induce you to come and sleep in this meadow?' 'Totell you the truth,' answered he, 'I am a bad sleeper.' 'Pray pardonme,' said I, 'if I tell you that I never saw one sleep more heartily.''If I did so,' said the individual, 'I am beholden to this meadow andthis book; but I am talking riddles, and will explain myself. I am theowner of a very pretty property, of which this valley forms part. Someyears ago, however, up started a person who said the property was his; alawsuit ensued, and I was on the brink of losing my all, when, mostunexpectedly, the suit was determined in my favour. Owing, however, tothe anxiety to which my mind had been subjected for years, my nerves hadbecome terribly shaken; and no sooner was the trial terminated than sleepforsook my pillow. I sometimes passed nights without closing an eye; Itook opiates, but they rather increased than alleviated my malady. Aboutthree weeks ago a friend of mine put this book into my hand, and advisedme to take it every day to some pleasant part of my estate, and try andread a page or two, assuring me, if I did that I should infallibly fallasleep. I took his advice, and selecting this place, which I consideredthe pleasantest part of my property, I came, and lying down, commencedreading the book, and before finishing a page was in a dead slumber.Every day since then I have repeated the experiment, and every time withequal success. I am a single man, without any children; and yesterday Imade my will, in which, in the event of my friend's surviving me, I haveleft him all my fortune, in gratitude for his having procured for me themost invaluable of all blessings--sleep.'

  'Dear me,' said I, 'how very extraordinary! Do you think that your goingto sleep is caused by the meadow or the book?' 'I suppose by both,' saidmy new acquaintance, 'acting in co-operation.' 'It may be so,' said I;'the magic influence does certainly not proceed from the meadow alone;for since I have been here, I have not felt the slightest inclination tosleep. Does the book consist of prose or poetry?' 'It consists ofpoetry,' said the individual. 'Not Byron's?' said I. 'Byron's!'repeated the individual, with a smile of contempt; 'no, no; there isnothing narcotic in Byron's poetry. I don't like it. I used to read it,but it thrilled, agitated, and kept me awake. No, this is not Byron'spoetry, but the inimitable ---'s {138a}--mentioning a name which I hadnever heard till then. 'Will you permit me to look at it?' said I.'With pleasure,' he answered, politely handing me the book. {138b} Itook the volume, and glanced over the contents. It was written in blankverse, and appeared to abound in descriptions of scenery; there was muchmention of mountains, valleys, streams, and waterfalls, harebells anddaffodils. These descriptions were interspersed with dialogues, which,though they proceeded from the mouths of pedlars and rustics, were of themost edifying description; mostly on subjects moral or metaphysical, andcouched in the most gentlemanly and unexceptionable language, without theslightest mixture of vulgarity, coarseness, or pie-bald grammar. Suchappeared to me to be the contents of the book; but before I could form avery clear idea of them, I found myself nodding, and a surprising desireto sleep coming over me. Rousing myself, however, by a strong effort, Iclosed the book, and, returning it to the owner, inquired of him,'Whether he had any motive in coming and lying down in the meadow,besides the wish of enjoying sleep?' 'None whatever,' he replied;'indeed, I should be very glad not to be compelled to do so, alwaysprovided I could enjoy the blessing of sleep; for by lying down undertrees, I may possibly catch the rheumatism, or be stung by serpents; and,moreover, in the rainy season and winter the thing will be impossible,unless I erect a tent, which will possibly destroy the charm.' 'Well,'said I, 'you need give yourself no farther trouble about coming here, asI am fully convinced that with this book in your hand, you may go tosleep anywhere, as your friend was doubtless aware, though he wished tointerest your imagination for a time by persuading you to lie abroad;therefore, in future, whenever you feel disposed to sleep, try to readthe book, and you will be sound asleep in a minute; the narcoticinfluence lies in the book, and not in the field.' 'I will follow youradvice,' said the individual, 'and this very night take it with me tobed; though I hope in time to be able to sleep without it, my nervesbeing already much quieted from the slumbers I have enjoyed in thisfield.' He then moved towards the gate, where we parted; he going oneway, and I and my horse the other.

  More than twenty years subsequent to this period, after much wanderingabout the world, returning to my native country, I was invited to aliterary tea-party, where, the discourse turning upon poetry, I, in orderto show that I was not more ignorant than my neighbours, began to talkabout Byron, for whose writings I really entertained a considerableadmiration, though I had no particular esteem for the man himself. Atfirst I received no answer to what I said--the company merely surveyingme with a kind of sleepy stare. At length a lady, about the age offorty, with a large wart on her face, observed, in a drawling tone, 'Thatshe had not read Byron--at least since her girlhood--and then only a f
ewpassages; but that the impression on her mind was, that his writings wereof a highly objectionable character.' 'I also read a little of him in myboyhood,' said a gentleman, about sixty, but who evidently, from hisdress and demeanour, wished to appear about thirty, 'but I highlydisapproved of him; for, notwithstanding he was a nobleman, he isfrequently very coarse, and very fond of raising emotion. Now emotion iswhat I dislike;' drawling out the last syllable of the word dislike.'There is only one poet for me--the divine ---'; and then he mentioned aname which I had only once heard, and afterwards quite forgotten; thename mentioned by the snorer in the field. 'Ah! there is no one likehim!' murmured some more of the company; 'the poet of nature--of naturewithout its vulgarity.' I wished very much to ask these people whetherthey were ever bad sleepers, and whether they had read the poet, socalled, from a desire of being set to sleep. Within a few days, however,I learnt that it had of late become very fashionable and genteel toappear half asleep, and that one could exhibit no better mark ofsuperfine breeding than by occasionally in company setting one's ronchalorgan in action. I then ceased to wonder at the popularity, which Ifound nearly universal, of ---'s poetry; for, certainly in order to makeone's self appear sleepy in company, or occasionally to induce sleep,nothing could be more efficacious than a slight pre-lection of his poems.So, poor Byron, with his fire and emotion--to say nothing of hismouthings and coxcombry--was dethroned, as I had prophesied he would bemore than twenty years before, on the day of his funeral, though I hadlittle idea that his humiliation would have been brought about by one,whose sole strength consists in setting people to sleep. Well, allthings are doomed to terminate in sleep. Before that termination,however, I will venture to prophesy that people will become a little moreawake--snoring and yawning be a little less in fashion--and poor Byron beonce more reinstated on his throne, though his rival will always stand agood chance of being worshipped by those whose ruined nerves areinsensible to the narcotic powers of opium and morphine.