Lavengro George Borrow (free ebook reader for ipad TXT) 📖

of English; and, as Annette and myself are much engaged in our own matters, we cannot pay her the attention which we should wish, and which she deserves, for she is a truly fascinating creature, although somewhat differing from my charmer, having blue eyes and flaxen hair; whilst Annette, on the contrary⁠—But I hope you will shortly see Annette. Now my plan is this⁠—Take the money, dress yourself fashionably, and conduct Annette’s sister to Bagnigge Wells.”

“And what should we do at Bagnigge Wells?”

“Do!” said Francis Ardry. “Dance!”

“But,” said I, “I scarcely know anything of dancing.”

“Then here’s an excellent opportunity of improving yourself. Like most Frenchwomen, she dances divinely; however, if you object to Bagnigge Wells and dancing, go to Brighton, and remain there a month or two, at the end of which time you can return with your mind refreshed and invigorated, and materials, perhaps, for a tale or novel.”

“I never heard a more foolish plan,” said I, “or one less likely to terminate profitably or satisfactorily. I thank you, however, for your offer, which is, I daresay, well meant. If I am to escape from my cares and troubles, and find my mind refreshed and invigorated, I must adopt other means than conducting a French demoiselle to Brighton or Bagnigge Wells, defraying the expense by borrowing from a friend.”

XLIX

The Armenian! I frequently saw this individual, availing myself of the permission which he had given me to call upon him. A truly singular personage was he, with his love of amassing money, and his nationality so strong as to be akin to poetry. Many an Armenian I have subsequently known fond of money-getting, and not destitute of national spirit; but never another, who, in the midst of his schemes of lucre, was at all times willing to enter into a conversation on the structure of the Haik language, or who ever offered me money to render into English the fables of Z⁠⸺ in the hope of astonishing the stockjobbers of the Exchange with the wisdom of the Haik Esop.

But he was fond of money, very fond. Within a little time I had won his confidence to such a degree that he informed me that the grand wish of his heart was to be possessed of two hundred thousand pounds.

“I think you might satisfy yourself with the half,” said I. “One hundred thousand pounds is a large sum.”

“You are mistaken,” said the Armenian, “a hundred thousand pounds is nothing. My father left me that or more at his death. No; I shall never be satisfied with less than two.”

“And what will you do with your riches,” said I, “when you have obtained them? Will you sit down and muse upon them, or will you deposit them in a cellar, and go down once a day to stare at them? I have heard say that the fulfilment of one’s wishes is invariably the precursor of extreme misery, and forsooth I can scarcely conceive a more horrible state of existence than to be without a hope or wish.”

“It is bad enough, I dare say,” said the Armenian; “it will, however, be time enough to think of disposing of the money when I have procured it. I still fall short by a vast sum of the two hundred thousand pounds.”

I had occasionally much conversation with him on the state and prospects of his nation, especially of that part of it which still continued in the original country of the Haiks⁠—Ararat and its confines, which, it appeared, he had frequently visited. He informed me that since the death of the last Haik monarch, which occurred in the eleventh century, Armenia had been governed both temporally and spiritually by certain personages called patriarchs; their temporal authority, however, was much circumscribed by the Persian and Turk, especially the former, of whom the Armenian spoke with much hatred, whilst their spiritual authority had at various times been considerably undermined by the emissaries of the Papa of Rome, as the Armenian called him.

“The Papa of Rome sent his emissaries at an early period amongst us,” said the Armenian, “seducing the minds of weak-headed people, persuading them that the hillocks of Rome are higher than the ridges of Ararat; that the Roman Papa has more to say in heaven than the Armenian patriarch, and that puny Latin is a better language than nervous and sonorous Haik.”

“They are both dialects,” said I, “of the language of Mr. Petulengro, one of whose race I believe to have been the original founder of Rome; but, with respect to religion, what are the chief points of your faith? you are Christians, I believe.”

“Yes,” said the Armenian, “we are Christians in our way; we believe in God, the Holy Spirit, and Saviour, though we are not prepared to admit that the last personage is not only himself, but the other two. We believe⁠—” and then the Armenian told me of several things which the Haiks believed or disbelieved. “But what we find most hard of all to believe,” said he, “is that the man of the molehills is entitled to our allegiance, he not being a Haik, or understanding the Haik language.”

“But, by your own confession,” said I, “he has introduced a schism in your nation, and has amongst you many that believe in him.”

“It is true,” said the Armenian, “that even on the confines of Ararat there are a great number who consider that mountain to be lower than the hillocks of Rome; but the greater number of degenerate Armenians are to be found amongst those who have wandered to the west; most of the Haik churches of the west consider Rome to be higher than Ararat⁠—most of the Armenians of this place hold that dogma; I, however, have always stood firm in the contrary opinion.”

“Ha! ha!”⁠—here the Armenian laughed in his peculiar manner⁠—“talking of this matter puts me in mind of an adventure which lately befel me, with one of the emissaries of the Papa of Rome, for the