CHAPTER LVIII
Gerard walked silently beside Teresa, wondering in his own mind, afterthe manner of artists, what she was going to do with him; instead ofasking her. So at last she told him of her own accord. A friend hadinformed her of a working goldsmith's wife who wanted a writer. "Hershop is hard by; you will not have far to go."
Accordingly they soon arrived at the goldsmith's wife.
"Madama," said Teresa, "Leonora tells me you want a writer: I havebrought you a beautiful one; he saved my child at sea. Prithee look onhim with favour."
The goldsmith's wife complied in one sense. She fixed her eyes onGerard's comely face, and could hardly take them off again. But herreply was unsatisfactory. "Nay, I have no use for a writer. Ah! I mindnow, it is my gossip, Claelia, the sausage-maker, wants one; she toldme, and I told Leonora."
Teresa made a courteous speech and withdrew.
Claelia lived at some distance, and when they reached her house she wasout. Teresa said calmly, "I will await her return," and sat so still,and dignified, and statuesque, that Gerard was beginning furtively todraw her, when Claelia returned.
"Madama, I hear from the goldsmith's wife, the excellent Olympia,that you need a writer" (here she took Gerard by the hand and led himforward); "I have brought you a beautiful one; he saved my child fromthe cruel waves. For our Lady's sake look with favour on him."
"My good dame, my fair Ser," said Claelia, "I have no use for a writer;but now you remind me, it was my friend Appia Claudia asked me for onebut the other day. She is a tailor, lives in the Via Lepida."
Teresa retired calmly.
"Madama," said Gerard, "this is likely to be a tedious business foryou."
Teresa opened her eyes.
"What was ever done without a little patience?" She added mildly, "Wewill knock at every door at Rome but you shall have justice."
"But, madama, I think we are dogged. I noticed a man that follows us,sometimes afar, sometimes close."
"I have seen it," said Teresa coldly; but her cheek coloured faintly."It is my poor Lodovico."
She stopped and turned, and beckoned with her finger.
A figure approached them somewhat unwillingly.
When he came up, she gazed him full in the face, and he looked sheepish.
"Lodovico mio," said she, "know this young Ser, of whom I have so oftenspoken to thee. Know him and love him, for he it was who saved thy wifeand child."
At these last words Lodovico, who had been bowing and grinningartificially, suddenly changed to an expression of heartfelt gratitude,and embraced Gerard warmly.
Yet somehow there was something in the man's original manner, and hishaving followed his wife by stealth, that made Gerard uncomfortableunder this caress. However, he said, "We shall have your company, SerLodovico?"
"No, signor," replied Lodovico, "I go not on that side Tiber."
"Addio, then," said Teresa significantly.
"When shall you return home, Teresa mia?"
"When I have done mine errand, Lodovico."
They pursued their way in silence. Teresa now wore a sad and almostgloomy air.
To be brief, Appia Claudia was merciful, and did not send them overTiber again, but only a hundred yards down the street to Lucretia, whokept the glove shop; she it was wanted a writer; but what for, AppiaClaudia could not conceive. Lucretia was a merry little dame, whoreceived them heartily enough, and told them she wanted no writer, keptall her accounts in her head. "It was for my confessor, Father Colonna;he is mad after them."
"I have heard of his excellency," said Teresa.
"Who has not?"
"But, good dame, he is a friar; he has made vow of poverty. I cannot letthe young man write and not be paid. He saved my child at sea.
"Did he now?" And Lucretia cast an approving look on Gerard. "Well, makeyour mind easy; a Colonna never wants for money. The good father hasonly to say the word, and the princes of his race will pour a thousandcrowns into his lap. And such a confessor, dame! the best in Rome. Hishead is leagues and leagues away all the while; he never heeds what youare saying. Why, I think no more of confessing my sins to him than oftelling them to that wall. Once, to try him, I confessed, along withthe rest, as how I had killed my lodger's little girl and baked her ina pie. Well, when my voice left off confessing, he started out of hisdream, and says he, a mustering up a gloom, 'My erring sister, say threePaternosters and three Ave Marias kneeling, and eat no butter nor eggsnext Wednesday, and pax vobiscum!' and off a went with his hands behindhim, looking as if there was no such thing as me in the world."
Teresa waited patiently, then calmly brought this discursive lady backto the point: "Would she be so kind as go with this good youth to thefriar and speak for him?"
"Alack! how can I leave my shop? And what need? His door is aye open towriters, and painters, and scholars, and all such cattle. Why, one dayhe would not receive the Duke d'Urbino, because a learned Greek wascloseted with him, and the friar's head and his so close together over adusty parchment just come in from Greece, as you could put one cowl overthe pair. His wench Onesta told me. She mostly looks in here for a chatwhen she goes an errand."
"This is the man for thee, my friend," said Teresa.
"All you have to do," continued Lucretia, "is to go to his lodgings (myboy shall show them you), and tell Onesta you come from me, and you area writer, and she will take you up to him. If you put a piece of silverin the wench's hand, 'twill do you no harm: that stands to reason."
"I have silver," said Teresa warmly.
"But stay," said Lucretia, "mind one thing. What the young man saith hecan do, that he must be able to do, or let him shun the good friar likepoison. He is a very wild beast against all bunglers. Why, 'twas butt'other day, one brought him an ill-carved crucifix. Says he, 'Is thishow you present "Salvator Mundi?" who died for you in mortal agony; andyou go and grudge him careful work. This slovenly gimcrack, a crucifix?But that it is a crucifix of some sort, and I am a holy man, I'd dustyour jacket with your crucifix,' says he. Onesta heard every wordthrough the key-hole; so mind."
"Have no fears, madama," said Teresa loftily. "I will answer for hisability; he saved my child."
Gerard was not subtle enough to appreciate this conclusion and was sofar from sharing Teresa's confidence that he begged a respite. He wouldrather not go to the friar to-day: would not to-morrow do as well?
"Here is a coward for ye," said Lucretia.
"No, he is not a coward," said Teresa, firing up; "he is modest."
"I am afraid of this high-born, fastidious friar," said Gerard,"Consider he has seen the handiwork of all the writers in Italy, deardame Teresa; if you would but let me prepare a better piece of work thanyet I have done, and then to-morrow I will face him with it."
"I consent," said Teresa.
They walked home together.
Not far from his own lodging was a shop that sold vellum. There was abeautiful white skin in the window. Gerard looked at it wistfully; buthe knew he could not pay for it; so he went on rather hastily. However,he soon made up his mind where to get vellum, and parting with Teresa athis own door, ran hastily upstairs, and took the bond he had brought allthe way from Sevenbergen, and laid it with a sigh on the table. He thenprepared with his chemicals to erase the old writing; but as this washis last chance of reading it, he now overcame his deadly repugnanceto bad writing, and proceeded to decipher the deed in spite of itsdetestable contractions. It appeared by this deed that Ghysbrecht VanSwieten was to advance some money to Floris Brandt on a piece of land,and was to repay himself out of the rent.
On this Gerard felt it would be imprudent and improper to destroy thedeed. On the contrary, he vowed to decipher every word, at his leisure.He went downstairs, determined to buy a small piece of vellum with hishalf of the card-money.
At the bottom of the stairs he found the landlady and Teresa talking. Atsight of him the former cried, "Here he is. You are caught, donna mia.See what she has bought you?" And whipped out from under her apro
n thevery skin of vellum Gerard had longed for.
"Why, dame! why, donna Teresa!" And he was speechless with pleasure andastonishment.
"Dear donna Teresa, there is not a skin in all Rome like it. Howevercame you to hit on this one? 'Tis glamour."
"Alas, dear boy, did not thine eye rest on it with desire? and didst thounot sigh in turning away from it? And was it for Teresa to let thee wantthe thing after that?"
"What sagacity! what goodness, madama! Oh, dame, I never thought Ishould possess this. What did you pay for it?"
"I forget. Addio, Fiammina. Addio, Ser Gerard. Be happy, be prosperous,as you are good." And the Roman matron glided away while Gerard washesitating, and thinking how to offer to pay so stately a creature forher purchase.
The next day in the afternoon he went to Lucretia, and her boy took himto Fra Colonna's lodgings. He announced his business, and feed Onesta,and she took him up to the friar. Gerard entered with a beating heart.The room, a large one, was strewed and heaped with objects of art,antiquity, and learning, lying about in rich profusion, and confusion.Manuscripts, pictures, carvings in wood and ivory, musical instruments;and in this glorious chaos sat the friar, poring intently over anArabian manuscript.
He looked up a little peevishly at the interruption. Onesta whispered inhis ear.
"Very well," said he. "Let him be seated. Stay; young man, show me howyou write?" And he threw Gerard a piece of paper, and pointed to aninkhorn.
"So please you, reverend father," said Gerard, "my hand it trembleth toomuch at this moment; but last night I wrote a vellum page of Greek, andthe Latin version by its side, to show the various character."
"Show it me?"
Gerard brought the work to him in fear and trembling; then stoodheart-sick, awaiting his verdict.
When it came it staggered him. For the verdict was, a Dominican fallingon his neck.
The next day an event took place in Holland, the effect of which onGerard's destiny, no mortal at the time, nor even my intelligent readernow, could, I think, foresee.
Marched up to Eli's door a pageant brave to the eye of sense, and to thevulgar judgment noble, but to the philosophic, pitiable more or less.
It looked one animal, a centaur; but on severe analysis proved two. Thehuman half were sadly bedizened with those two metals, to clothe hiscarcass with which and line his pouch, man has now and then disposed ofhis soul: still the horse was the vainer brute of the two; he was farworse beflounced, bebonneted, and bemantled, than any fair lady regnantecrinolina. For the man, under the colour of a warming-pan, retainedNature's outline. But it was subaudi equum! Scarce a pennyweight ofhonest horse-flesh to be seen. Our crinoline spares the noble parts ofwomen, and makes but the baser parts gigantic (why this preference?);but this poor animal from stem to stern was swamped in finery. His earswere hid in great sheaths of white linen tipped with silver and blue.His body swaddled in stiff gorgeous cloths descending to the ground,except just in front, where they left him room to mince. His tail,though dear to memory, no doubt, was lost to sight, being tucked inheaven knows how. Only his eyes shone out like goggles, through twoholes pierced in the wall of haberdashery, and his little front hoofspeeped in and out like rats.
Yet did this compound, gorgeous and irrational, represent power;absolute power: it came straight from a tournament at the Duke's court,which being on a progress, lay last night at a neighbouring town--toexecute the behests of royalty.
"What ho!" cried the upper half, and on Eli emerging, with his wifebehind him, saluted them. "Peace be with you, good people. Rejoice! I amcome for your dwarf."
Eli looked amazed, and said nothing. But Catherine screamed over hisshoulder, "You have mistook your road, good man; here abides no dwarf."
"Nay, wife, he means our Giles, who is somewhat small of stature: whygainsay what gainsayed may not be?"
"Ay!" cried the pageant, "that is he, and discourseth like the bigtaber.
"His breast is sound for that matter," said Catherine sharply.
"And prompt with his fists though at long odds."
"Else how would the poor thing keep his head in such a world as this?"
"'Tis well said, dame. Art as ready with thy weapon as he; art hismother, likely. So bring him forth, and that presently. See, they lead astunted mule for him. The Duke hath need of him, sore need; we are cleanout o' dwarven, and tiger-cats, which may not be, whiles earth themyieldeth. Our last hop o' my thumb tumbled down the well t'other day."
"And think you I'll let my darling go to such an ill-guided house asyou, where the reckless trollops of servants close not the well mouth,but leave it open to trap innocents, like wolven?"
The representative of autocracy lost patience at this unwontedopposition, and with stern look and voice bade her bethink her whetherit was the better of the two; "to have your abortion at court fed like abishop and put on like a prince, or to have all your heads stricken offand borne on poles, with the bellman crying, 'Behold the heads of hardyrebels, which having by good luck a misbegotten son, did traitorouslygrudge him to the Duke, who is the true father of all his folk, littleor mickle?'
"Nay," said Eli sadly, "miscall us not. We be true folk, and neitherrebels nor traitors. But 'tis sudden, and the poor lad is our true fleshand blood, and hath of late given proof of more sense than heretofore."
"Avails not threatening our lives," whimpered Catherine; "we grudge himnot to the Duke; but in sooth he cannot go; his linen is all in holes.So there is an end."
But the male mind resisted this crusher.
"Think you the Duke will not find linen, and cloth of gold to boot? Noneso brave, none so affected, at court, as our monsters, big or wee."
How long the dispute might have lasted, before the iron arguments ofdespotism achieved the inevitable victory, I know not; but it was cutshort by a party whom neither disputant had deigned to consult.
The bone of contention walked out of the house, and sided with monarchy.
"If my folk are mad, I am not," he roared. "I'll go with you and on theinstant."
At this Catherine set up a piteous cry. She saw another of her broodescaping from under her wing into some unknown element. Giles was notquite insensible to her distress, so simple yet so eloquent. He said,"Nay, take not on, mother! Why, 'tis a godsend. And I am sick of this,ever since Gerard left it."
"Ah, cruel Giles! Should ye not rather say she is bereaved of Gerard:the more need of you to stay aside her and comfort her."
"Oh! I am not going to Rome. Not such a fool. I shall never be fartherthan Rotterdam; and I'll often come and see you; and if I like not theplace, who shall keep me there? Not all the dukes in Christendom."
"Good sense lies in little bulk," said the emissary approvingly."Therefore, Master Giles, buss the old folk, and thank them formisbegetting of thee; and ho! you--bring hither his mule."
One of his retinue brought up the dwarf mule. Giles refused it withscorn. And on being asked the reason, said it was not just.
"What! would ye throw all into one scale! Put muckle to muckle, andlittle to wee! Besides, I hate and scorn small things. I'll go on thehighest horse here, or not at all."
The pursuivant eyed him attentively a moment. He then adopted acourteous manner. "I shall study your will in all things reasonable.(Dismount, Eric, yours is the highest horse.) And if you would halt inthe town an hour or so, while you bid them farewell, say but the word,and your pleasure shall be my delight."
Giles reflected.
"Master," said he, "if we wait a month, 'twill be still the same: mymother is a good soul, but her body is bigger than her spirit. We shallnot part without a tear or two, and the quicker 'tis done the fewer; sobring yon horse to me."
Catherine threw her apron over her face and sobbed. The high horse wasbrought, and Giles was for swarming up his tail, like a rope; but oneof the servants cried out hastily, "Forbear, for he kicketh." "I'll kickhim," said Giles. "Bring him close beneath this window, and I'll learnyou all how to mount a horse which kicketh, and will not
be clomb bythe tail, the staircase of a horse." And he dashed into the house, andalmost immediately reappeared at an upper window, with a rope in hishand. He fastened an end somehow, and holding the other, descendedas swift and smooth as an oiled thunderbolt in a groove, and lightedastride his high horse as unperceived by that animal as a fly settlingon him.
The official lifted his hands to heaven in mawkish admiration. "I havegotten a pearl," thought he, "and wow but this will be a good day's workfor me."
"Come, father, come, mother, buss me, and bless me, and off I go."
Eli gave him his blessing, and bade him be honest and true, and a creditto his folk. Catherine could not speak, but clung to him with many sobsand embraces; and even through the mist of tears her eye detected in amoment the little rent in his sleeve he had made getting out of window,and she whipped out her needle and mended it then and there, and hertears fell on his arm the while, unheeded--except by those unfleshlyeyes, with which they say the very air is thronged.
And so the dwarf mounted the high horse, and rode away complacent withthe old hand laying the court butter on his back with a trowel.
Little recked Perpusillus of two poor silly females that sat by thebereaved hearth, rocking themselves, and weeping, and discussing all hisvirtues, and how his mind had opened lately, and blind as two beetles tohis faults, who rode away from them, jocund and bold.
Ingentes animos angusto pectore versans.
Arrived at court he speedily became a great favourite.
One strange propensity of his electrified the palace; but on accountof his small size, and for variety's sake, and as a monster, he wasindulged on it. In a word, he was let speak the truth.
It is an unpopular thing.
He made it an intolerable one.
Bawled it.
The Cloister and the Hearth Page 57
