CHAPTER XL
THE HORNCASTLE WELCOME--TZERNEBOCK AND BIELEBOCK
The pipe of the Hungarian had, for some time past, exhibited considerablesymptoms of exhaustion, little or no ruttling having been heard in thetube, and scarcely a particle of smoke, drawn through the syphon, havingbeen emitted from the lips of the tall possessor. He now rose from hisseat, and going to a corner of the room, placed his pipe against thewall, then striding up and down the room, he cracked his fingers severaltimes, exclaiming, in a half-musing manner, 'Oh, the deep nation, which,in order to display its sympathy for Hungary, sends its fool to Vienna,to drink the sweet wine of Tokay!'
The jockey, having looked for some time at the tall figure with evidentapprobation, winked at me with that brilliant eye of his on which therewas no speck, saying, 'Did you ever see a taller fellow?'
'Never,' said I.
'Or a finer?'
'That's another question,' said I, 'which I am not so willing to answer;however, as I am fond of truth, and scorn to flatter, I will take theliberty of saying that I think I have seen a finer.'
'A finer! where?' said the jockey; whilst the Hungarian, who appeared tounderstand what we said, stood still, and looked full at me.
'Amongst a strange set of people,' said I, 'whom, if I were to name, youwould, I dare say, only laugh at me.'
'Who be they?' said the jockey. 'Come, don't be ashamed. I haveoccasionally kept queerish company myself.'
'The people whom we call gypsies,' said I; 'whom the Germans callZigeuner, and who call themselves Romany chals.'
'Zigeuner!' said the Hungarian. 'By Isten! I do know these people.'
'Romany chals!' said the jockey; 'whew! I begin to smell a rat.'
'What do you mean by smelling a rat?' said I.
'I'll bet a crown,' said the jockey, 'that you be the young chap whatcertain folks call "The Romany Rye."'
'Ah!' said I, 'how came you to know that name?'
'Be not you he?' said the jockey.
'Why, I certainly have been called by that name.'
'I could have sworn it,' said the jockey; then rising from his chair, helaid his pipe on the table, took a large hand-bell which stood on asideboard, and going to the door, opened it, and commenced ringing in amost tremendous manner on the staircase. The noise presently brought upa waiter, to whom the jockey vociferated, 'Go to your master, and tellhim to send immediately three bottles of champagne, of the pink kind,mind you, which is twelve guineas a dozen.' The waiter hurried away, andthe jockey resumed his seat and his pipe. I sat in silent astonishmenttill the waiter returned with a basket containing the wine, which, withthree long glasses, he placed on the table. The jockey then got up, andgoing to a large bow-window at the end of the room, which looked into acourt-yard, peeped out; then saying, 'The coast is clear,' he shut downthe principal sash, which was open for the sake of the air, and taking upa bottle of the champagne, he placed another in the hands of theHungarian, to whom he said something in private. The latter, who seemedto understand him, answered by a nod. The two then going to the end ofthe table fronting the window, and about eight paces from it, stoodbefore it, holding the bottles by their necks; suddenly the jockey liftedup his arm. 'Surely,' said I, 'you are not mad enough to fling thatbottle through the window?' 'Here's to the Romany Rye: here's to thesweet master,' said the jockey, dashing the bottle through a pane in soneat a manner that scarcely a particle of glass fell into the room.
'Eljen edes csigany ur--eljen gul eray!' said the Hungarian, swinginground his bottle, and discharging it at the window; but, either notpossessing the jockey's accuracy of aim, or reckless of consequences, heflung his bottle so that it struck against part of the wooden setting ofthe panes, breaking along with the wood and itself three or four panes topieces. The crash was horrid, and wine and particles of glass flew backinto the room, to the no small danger of its inmates. 'What do you thinkof that?' said the jockey. 'Were you ever so honoured before?''Honoured!' said I. 'God preserve me in future from such honour;' and Iput my finger to my cheek, which was slightly hurt by a particle of theglass. 'That's the way we of the cofrady honour great men atHorncastle,' said the jockey. 'What, you are hurt! never mind; all thebetter, your scratch shows that you are the body the compliment was paidto.' 'And what are you going to do with the other bottle?' said I. 'Dowith it!' said the jockey, 'why, drink it, cosily and comfortably, whilstholding a little quiet talk. The Romany Rye at Horncastle, what anidea!'
'And what will the master of the house say to all this damage which youhave caused him?'
'What will your master say, William?' said the jockey to the waiter, whohad witnessed the singular scene just described without exhibiting theslightest mark of surprise. William smiled, and slightly shrugging hisshoulders, replied, 'Very little, I dare say, sir; this ain't the firsttime your honour has done a thing of this kind.' 'Nor will it be thefirst time that I shall have paid for it,' said the jockey. 'Well, Ishall have never paid for a certain item in the bill with more pleasurethan I shall pay for it now. Come, William, draw the cork, and let ustaste the pink champagne.'
The waiter drew the cork, and filled the glasses with a pinky liquor,which bubbled, hissed, and foamed. 'How do you like it?' said thejockey, after I had imitated the example of my companions by despatchingmy portion at a draught.
'It is wonderful wine,' said I; 'I have never tasted champagne before,though I have frequently heard it praised; it more than answers myexpectations; but, I confess, I should not wish to be obliged to drink itevery day.'
'Nor I,' said the jockey, 'for everyday drinking give me a glass of oldport, or--'
'Of hard old ale,' I interposed, 'which, according to my mind, is betterthan all the wine in the world.'
'Well said, Romany Rye,' said the jockey. 'Just my own opinion; now,William, make yourself scarce.'
The waiter withdrew, and I said to the jockey, 'How did you becomeacquainted with the Romany chals?'
'I first became acquainted with them,' said the jockey, 'when I livedwith old Fulcher the basket-maker, who took me up when I was adrift uponthe world; I do not mean the present Fulcher, who is likewise called oldFulcher, but his father, who has been dead this many a year; while livingwith him in the caravan, I frequently met them in the green lanes, and oflatter years I have had occasional dealings with them in the horse line.'
'And the gypsies have mentioned me to you?' said I.
'Frequently,' said the jockey, 'and not only those of these parts; why,there's scarcely a part of England in which I have not heard the name ofthe Romany Rye mentioned by these people. The power you have over themis wonderful; that is, I should have thought it wonderful, had they notmore than once told me the cause.'
'And what is the cause?' said I, 'for I am sure I do not know.'
'The cause is this,' said the jockey: 'they never heard a bad wordproceed from your mouth, and never knew you do a bad thing.'
'They are a singular people,' said I.
'And what a singular language they have got,' said the jockey.
'Do you know it?' said I.
'Only a few words,' said the jockey, 'they were always chary in teachingme any.'
'They were vary sherry to me too,' said the Hungarian, speaking in brokenEnglish; 'I only could learn from them half a dozen words, for example,gul eray, {250a} which, in the czigany of my country, means sweetgentleman; or edes ur in my own Magyar.'
'Gudlo Rye, in the Romany of mine, means a sugar'd gentleman,' said I;'then there are gypsies in your country?'
'Plenty,' said the Hungarian, speaking German, 'and in Russia and Turkeytoo; and wherever they are found, they are alike in their ways andlanguage. Oh, they are a strange race, and how little known! I knowlittle of them, but enough to say, that one horse-load of nonsense hasbeen written about them; there is one Valter Scott--'
'Mind what you say about him,' said I; 'he is our grand authority inmatters of philology and history.'
'A pretty philologist,' said th
e Hungarian, 'who makes the gypsies speakRoth-Welsch, {250b} the dialect of thieves; a pretty historian, whocouples together Thor and Tzernebock.'
'Where does he do that?' said I.
'In his conceited romance of Ivanhoe he couples Thor and Tzernebocktogether, and calls them gods of the heathen Saxons.'
'Well,' said I, 'Thur or Thor was certainly a god of the heathen Saxons.'
'True,' said the Hungarian; 'but why couple him with Tzernebock?Tzernebock was a word which your Valter had picked up somewhere withoutknowing the meaning. Tzernebock was no god of the Saxons, but one of thegods of the Sclaves, on the southern side of the Baltic. The Sclaves hadtwo grand gods to whom they sacrificed, Tzernebock and Bielebock; thatis, the black and white gods, who represented the powers of dark andlight. They were overturned by Waldemar, the Dane, the great enemy ofthe Sclaves; the account of whose wars you will find in one fine oldbook, written by Saxo Gramaticus, which I read in the library of thecollege of Debreczen. The Sclaves, at one time, were masters of all thesouthern shore of the Baltic, where their descendants are still to befound, though they have lost their language, and call themselves Germans;but the word Zernevitz near Dantzic, still attests that the Sclaviclanguage was once common in those parts. Zernevitz means the thing ofblackness, as Tzernebock means the god of blackness. Prussia itselfmerely means, in Sclavish, Lower Russia. There is scarcely a race orlanguage in the world more extended than the Sclavic. On the other sideof the Dunau you will find the Sclaves and their language. Czernavoda isSclavic, and means black water; in Turkish, kara su; even as Tzernebockmeans black god; and Belgrade, or Belograd, means the white town; even asBielebock, or Bielebog, means the white god. Oh! he is one greatignorant, that Valter. He is going, they say, to write one history aboutNapoleon. I do hope that in his history he will couple his Thor andTzernebock together. By my God! it would be good diversion that.'
'Walter Scott appears to be no particular favourite of yours,' said I.
'He is not,' said the Hungarian; 'I hate him for his slavish principles.He wishes to see absolute power restored in this country, and Poperyalso; and I hate him because--what do you think? In one of his novels,published a few months ago, he has the insolence to insult Hungary in theperson of one of her sons. He makes his great braggart, Cour de Lion,fling a Magyar over his head. Ha! it was well for Richard that he neverfelt the grip of a Hungarian. I wish the braggart could have felt thegrip of me, who am "a' Magyarok kozt legkissebb," the least among theMagyars. I do hate that Scott, and all his vile gang of Lowlanders andHighlanders. The black corps, the fekete regiment of Matyjas Hunyadi,was worth all the Scots, high or low, that ever pretended to be soldiers;and would have sent them all headlong into the Black Sea, had they daredto confront it on its shores; but why be angry with an ignorant, whocouples together Thor and Tzernebock? Ha! ha!'
'You have read his novels?' said I.
'Yes, I read them now and then. I do not speak much English, but I canread it well, and I have read some of his romances, and mean to read hisNapoleon, in the hope of finding Thor and Tzernebock coupled together init, as in his high-flying Ivanhoe.'
'Come,' said the jockey, 'no more Dutch, whether high or low. I am tiredof it; unless we can have some English, I am off to bed.'
'I should be very glad to hear some English,' said I; 'especially fromyour mouth. Several things which you have mentioned have awakened mycuriosity. Suppose you give us your history?'
'My history?' said the jockey. 'A rum idea! however, lest conversationshould lag, I'll give it you. First of all, however, a glass ofchampagne to each.'
After we had each taken a glass of champagne, the jockey commenced hishistory.