Lavengro by George Borrow (read me a book txt) 📕

to start the Review of which I was speaking. He has taken it into his head to marry, sir, and I must do something for him, for he can do but little for himself. Well, sir, I am a friend to Liberty, as I said before, and likewise a friend to Reason; but I tell you frankly that the Review which I intend to get up under the rose, and present him with when it is established, will be conducted on Oxford principles.”130

“Orthodox principles, I suppose you mean, sir?”

“I do, sir; I am no linguist, but I believe the words are synonymous.”

Much more conversation passed between us, and it was agreed that I should become a contributor to the Oxford Review.131 I stipulated, however, that, as I knew little of politics, and cared less, no other articles should be required from me than such as were connected with belles-lettres and philology; to this the big man readily assented. “Nothing will be required from you,” said he, “but what you mention; and now and then, perhaps, a paper on metaphysics. You understand German, and perhaps it would be desirable that you should review Kant; and in a review of Kant, sir, you could introduce to advantage your peculiar notions about ex nihilo.” He then reverted to the subject of the Dairyman’s Daughter, which I promised to take into consideration. As I was going away, he invited me to dine with him on the ensuing Sunday.

“That’s a strange man!” said I to myself, after I had left the house, “he is evidently very clever; but I cannot say that I like him much, with his Oxford Reviews and Dairyman’s Daughters. But what can I do? I am almost without a friend in the world. I wish I could find someone who would publish my ballads, or my songs of Ab Gwilym. In spite of what the big man says, I am convinced that, once published, they would bring me much fame and profit. But how is this?⁠—what a beautiful sun!⁠—the porter was right in saying that the day would clear up⁠—I will now go to my dingy lodging, lock up my manuscripts and then take a stroll about the big city.”

XXXI

So I set out on my walk to see the wonders of the big city, and, as chance would have it, I directed my course to the east. The day, as I have already said, had become very fine, so that I saw the great city to advantage, and the wonders thereof, and much I admired all I saw; and, amongst other things, the huge cathedral, standing so proudly on the most commanding ground in the big city; and I looked up to the mighty dome, surmounted by a golden cross, and I said within myself: “That dome must needs be the finest in the world;” and I gazed upon it till my eyes reeled, and my brain became dizzy, and I thought that the dome would fall and crush me; and I shrank within myself, and struck yet deeper into the heart of the big city.

“O Cheapside! Cheapside!” said I, as I advanced up that mighty thoroughfare, “truly thou art a wonderful place for hurry, noise and riches! Men talk of the bazaars of the East⁠—I have never seen them, but I dare say that, compared with thee, they are poor places, silent places, abounding with empty boxes. O thou pride of London’s east!⁠—mighty mart of old renown!⁠—for thou art not a place of yesterday: long before the Roses red and white battled in fair England, thou didst exist⁠—a place of throng and bustle⁠—a place of gold and silver, perfumes and fine linen. Centuries ago thou couldst extort the praises even of the fiercest foes of England. Fierce bards of Wales, sworn foes of England, sang thy praises centuries ago; and even the fiercest of them all, Red Julius himself,132 wild Glendower’s bard, had a word of praise for London’s ‘Cheape,’ for so the bards of Wales styled thee in their flowing odes. Then, if those who were not English, and hated England, and all connected therewith, had yet much to say in thy praise, when thou wast far inferior to what thou art now, why should true-born Englishmen, or those who call themselves so, turn up their noses at thee, and scoff thee at the present day, as I believe they do? But, let others do as they will, I, at least, who am not only an Englishman, but an East Englishman, will not turn up my nose at thee, but will praise and extol thee, calling thee mart of the world⁠—a place of wonder and astonishment!⁠—and, were it right and fitting to wish that anything should endure forever, I would say prosperity to Cheapside, throughout all ages⁠—may it be the world’s resort for merchandise, world without end.”

And when I had passed through the Cheape I entered another street, which led up a kind of ascent, and which proved to be the street of the Lombards, called so from the name of its founders; and I walked rapidly up the street of the Lombards, neither looking to the right nor left, for it had no interest for me, though I had a kind of consciousness that mighty things were being transacted behind its walls; but it wanted the throng, bustle and outward magnificence of the Cheape, and it had never been spoken of by “ruddy bards!” And, when I had got to the end of the street of the Lombards, I stood still for some time, deliberating within myself whether I should turn to the right or the left, or go straight forward, and at last I turned to the right, down a street of rapid descent, and presently found myself upon a bridge which traversed the river which runs by the big city.

A strange kind of bridge it was;