Japhet in Search of a Father

Part 1—Chapter XIV

In which Melchior talks very much like an Astrologer, and Tim and I return to our old Trade of making up innocent Prescriptions.

We had taken our horses for the next town; but as soon as we were fairly on the road, I stopped the boys, and told them that the Great Aristodemus intended to observe the planets, and, stars that night, and that they were to proceed to a common which I mentioned. The post-boys, who were well aware of his fame, and as fully persuaded of it as everybody else, drove to the common; we descended, took off the luggage, and received directions from Melchior in their presence about the instruments, to which the boys listened with open mouths and wonderment. I paid them well, and told them they might return, which they appeared very glad to do. They reported what had occurred, and this simple method of regaining our camp, added to the astonishment of the good town of —. When they were out of sight we resumed our usual clothes, packed all up, carried away most of our effects, and hid the others in the furze to be sent for the next night, not being more than two miles from the camp. We soon arrived, and were joyfully received by Fleta and Nattée.

As we walked across the common, I observed to Melchior, “I wonder if these stars have any influence upon mortals, as it was formerly supposed?”

“Most assuredly they have,” rejoined Melchior. “I cannot read them, but I firmly believe in them.”

I made the above remark, as I had often thought that such was Melchior’s idea.

“Yes,” continued he, “every man has his destiny—such must be the case. It is known beforehand what is to happen to us by an Omniscient Being, and being known, what is it but destiny which cannot be changed? It is fate,” continued he, surveying the stars with his hand raised up, “and that fate is as surely written there as the sun shines upon us; but the great book is sealed, because it would not add to our happiness.”

“If, then, all is destiny, or fate, what inducement is there to do well or ill?” replied I. “We may commit all acts of evil, and say, that as it was predestined, we could not help it. Besides, would it be just that the Omniscient Being should punish us for those crimes which we cannot prevent, and which are allotted to us by destiny?”

“Japhet, you argue well; but you are in error, because, like most of those of the Christian church, you understand not the sacred writings, nor did I until I knew my wife. Her creed is, I believe, correct; and what is more, adds weight to the truths of the Bible.”

“I thought that gipsies had no religion.”

“You are not the only one who supposes so. It is true that the majority of the tribe are held by the higher castes as serfs, and are not instructed; but with—if I may use the expression—the aristocracy of them it is very different, and their creed I have adopted.”

“I should wish to hear their creed,” replied I.

“Hear it then. Original sin commenced in heaven—when the angels rebelled against their God—not on earth.”

“I will grant that sin originated first in heaven.”

“Do you think that a great, a good God, ever created any being for its destruction and eternal misery, much less an angel? Did he not foresee their rebellion?”

“I grant it.”

“This world was not peopled with the image of God until after the fall of the angels: it had its living beings, its monsters perhaps, but not a race of men with eternal souls. But it was peopled, as we see it now is, to enable the legions of angels who fell to return to their former happy state—as a pilgrimage by which they might obtain their pardons, and resume their seats in heaven. Not a child is born, but the soul of some fallen cherub enters into the body to work out its salvation. Many do, many do not, and then they have their task to recommence anew; for the spirit once created is immortal, and cannot be destroyed; and the Almighty is all goodness, and would ever pardon.”

“Then you suppose there is no such thing as eternal punishment.”

“Eternal!—no. Punishment there is, but not eternal. When the legions of angels fell, some were not so perverse as others: they soon re-obtained their seats, even when, as children, having passed through the slight ordeal, they have been summoned back to heaven; but others who, from their infancy, show how bad were their natures, have many pilgrimages to perform before they can be purified. This is, in itself, a punishment. What other punishment they incur between their pilgrimages we know not; but this is certain, that no one was created to be punished eternally.”

“But all this is but assertion,” replied I; “where are your proofs?”

“In the Bible; some day or other I will show them to you; but now we are at the camp, and I am anxious to embrace Nattée.”

I thought for some time upon this singular creed; one, in itself, not militating against religion, but at the same time I could not call to mind any passages by which it could be supported. Still the idea was beautiful, and I dwelt upon it with pleasure. I have before observed, and indeed the reader must have gathered from my narrative, that Melchior was no common personage. Every day did I become more partial to him, and more pleased with our erratic life. What scruples I had at first, gradually wore away; the time passed quickly, and although I would occasionally call to mind the original object of my setting forth, I would satisfy myself by the reflection, that there was yet sufficient time. Little Fleta was now my constant companion when in the camp, and I amused myself with teaching her to write and read.

“Japhet,” said Timothy to me one day as we were cutting hazel broach wood in the forest, “I don’t see that you get on very fast in your search after your father.”

“No, Tim, I do not; but I am gaining a knowledge of the world which will be very useful to me when I recommence the search; and what is more, I am saving a great deal of money to enable me to prosecute it.”

“What did Melchior give you after we left?”

“Twenty guineas, which, with what I had before, make more than fifty.”

“And he gave me ten, which makes twenty, with what I had before. Seventy pounds is a large sum.”

“Yes, but soon spent, Tim. We must work a little longer. Besides, I cannot leave that little girl—she was never intended for a rope-dancer.”

“I am glad to hear you say that, Japhet, for I feel as you do—she shall share our fortunes.”

“A glorious prospect truly,” replied I, laughing; “but never mind, it would be better than her remaining here. But how are we to manage that?”

“Ay! that’s the rub; but there is time enough to think about it when we intend to quit our present occupation.”

“Well, I understand from Melchior that we are to start in a few days?”

“What is it to be, Japhet?”

“Oh! we shall be at home—we are to cure all diseases under the sun. To-morrow we commence making pills, so we may think ourselves with Mr Cophagus again.”

“Well, I do think we shall have some fun; but I hope Melchior won’t make me take my own pills to prove their good qualities—that will be no joke.”

“O no, Num is kept on purpose for that. What else is the fool good for?”

The next week was employed as we anticipated. Boxes of pills of every size, neatly labelled, bottles of various mixtures, chiefly stimulants, were corked and packed up. Powders of anything were put in papers; but, at all events, there was nothing hurtful in them. All was ready, and accompanied by Num (Jumbo and Fleta being left at home) we set off, Melchior assuming the dress in which we had first met him in the waggon, and altering his appearance so completely, that he would have been taken for at least sixty years old. We now travelled on foot with our dresses in bundles, each carrying his own, except Num, who was loaded like a pack-horse, and made sore lamentations: “Can’t you carry some of this?”

“No,” replied I, “it is your own luggage; everyone must carry his own.”

“Well, I never felt my spangled dress so heavy before. Where are we going?”

“Only a little way,” replied Timothy, “and then you will have nothing more to do.”

“I don’t know that. When master puts on that dress, I have to swallow little things till I’m sick.”

“It’s all good for your health, Num.”

“I’m very well, I thank’e,” replied the poor fellow; “but I’m very hot and very tired.”

Part 1—Chapter XV

In which Timothy makes a grand Speech, quite as true as those delivered from the Hustings—Melchior, like the Candidate, states his Pretensions for public Favour, and the Public, as usual, swallow the Bait.

Fortunately for poor Num, we were not far from the market town at which we intended to open our campaign, which we did the next morning by Num and Timothy sallying forth, the former with a large trumpet in his hand, and the latter riding on a donkey. On their arrival at the market-place, Num commenced blowing it with all his might, while Timothy, in his spangled dress, as soon as they had collected a crowd, stood upon his saddle, and harangued the people as follows:—

“Gentlemen and ladies—I have the honour to announce to you the arrival in this town of the celebrated Doctor Appallacheosmo Commetico, who has travelled farther than the sun and faster than a comet. He hath visited every part of the globe. He has smoked the calumet with the Indians of North America—he has hunted with the Araucas in the South—galloped on wild horses over the plains of Mexico, and rubbed noses with the Esquimaux. He hath used the chopsticks with the Chinese, swung the Cherok pooga with the Hindoos, and put a new nose on the Great Cham of Tartary. He hath visited and been received in every court of Europe: danced on the ice of the Neva with the Russians—led the mazurka with the Poles—waltzed with the Germans—tarantulaed with the Italians—fandangoed with the Spanish—and quadrilled with the French. He hath explored every mine in the universe, walked through every town on the Continent, examined every mountain in the world, ascended Mont Blanc, walked down the Andes, and run up the Pyrenees. He has been into every volcano in the globe, and descending by Vesuvius has been thrown up by Stromboli. He has lived more than a thousand years, and is still in the flower of his youth. He has had one hundred and forty sets of teeth one after another, and expects a new set next Christmas. His whole life has been spent in the service of mankind, and in doing good to his fellow-creatures; and having the experience of more than a thousand years, he cures more than a thousand diseases. Gentlemen, the wonderful doctor will present himself before you this evening, and will then tell you what his remedies are good for, so that you may pick and choose according to your several complaints. Ladies, the wonderful doctor can greatly assist you: he has secrets by which you may have a family if you should so wish—philters to make husbands constant, and salve to make them blind—cosmetics to remove pimples and restore to youth and beauty, and powders to keep children from squalling. Sound the trumpet, Philotas; sound, and let everybody know that the wonderful Doctor Appallacheosmo Commetico has vouchsafed to stop here and confer his blessings upon the inhabitants of this town.” Hereupon Num again blew the trumpet till he was black in the face; and Timothy, dropping on his donkey, rode away to other parts of the town, where he repeated his grandiloquent announcement, followed, as may be supposed, by a numerous cortège of little ragged boys.

About four o’clock in the afternoon. Melchior made his appearance in the market-place, attended by me, dressed as a German student, Timothy and Num in their costumes. A stage had been already prepared, and the populace had crowded round it more with the intention of laughing than of making purchases. The various packets were opened and arranged in front of the platform, I standing on one side of Melchior, Timothy on the other, and Num with his trumpet, holding on by one of the scaffold poles at the corner.

“Sound the trumpet, Philotas,” said Melchior, taking off his three-cornered hat, and making a low bow to the audience, at every blast. “Pray, Mr Fool, do you know why you sound the trumpet?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Num, opening his goggle eyes.

“Do you know, Mr Dionysius?”

“Yes, sir, I can guess.”

“Explain, then, to the gentlemen and ladies who have honoured us with their presence.”

“Because, sir, trumpets are always sounded before great conquerors.”

“Very true, sir; but how am I a great conqueror?”

“You have conquered death, sir; and he’s a very rum customer to have to deal with.”

“Dionysius, you have answered well, and shall have some bullock’s liver for your supper—don’t forget to remind me, in case I forget it.”

“No, that I won’t, sir,” replied Timothy, rubbing his stomach, as if delighted with the idea.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Melchior to the audience, who were on the broad grin, “I see your souths are all open, and are waiting for the pills; but a lot too impatient—I cannot part with my medicine unless you have diseases which require their aid; and I should, indeed, be a sorry doctor, if I prescribed without knowing your complaints. Est neutrale genus signans rem non animatam, says Herodotus, which in English means, what is one man’s meat is another man’s poison; and further, he adds, Ut jecur, ut onus, put ut occiput, which is as much as to say, that what agrees with one temperament, will be injurious to another. Caution, therefore, becomes very necessary in the use of medicine; and my reputation depends upon my not permitting anyone to take what is not good for him. And now, my very dear friends, I will first beg you to observe the peculiar qualities of the contents of this little phial. You observe, that there is not more than sixty drops in it, yet will these sixty drops add ten years to a man’s life—for it will cure him of almost as many diseases. In the first place, are any of you troubled with the ascites, or dropsy, which, as the celebrated Galen hath declared, may be divided into three parts, the ascites, the anasarca, and the tympanites. The diagnostics of this disease are, swelling of the abdomen or stomach, difficulty of breathing, want of appetite, and a teazing cough. I say, have any of you this disease? None. Then I thank Heaven that you are not so afflicted.

“The next disease it is good for, is the peripneumonia, or inflammation on the lungs—the diagnostics or symptoms of which are, a small pulse, swelling of the eyes, and redness of the face. Say, have any of you these symptoms—if so, you have the disease. No one. I thank Heaven that you are none of you so afflicted.

“It is also a sovereign remedy for the diarrhoea, the diagnostics of which are, faintness, frequent gripings, rumbling in the bowels, cold sweats, and spasm.”

Here one man came forward and complained of frequent gripings—another of rumbling in the bowels, and two or three more of cold sweats.

“It is well. O I thank Heaven that I am here to administer to you myself! for what says Hippocrates? Relativum cum antecedente concordat, which means, that remedies quickly applied, kill the disease in its birth. Here, my friends, take it—take it—pay me only one shilling, and be thankful. When you go to rest, fail not to offer up your prayers. It is also a sovereign remedy for the dreadful chiragra or gout. I cured the whole corporation of city aldermen last week, by their taking three bottles each, and they presented me with the freedom of the city of London, in a gold box, which I am sorry that I have forgotten to bring with me. Now the chiragra may be divided into several varieties. Gonagra, when it attacks the knees—chiragra, if in the hands—onagra, if in the elbow—omagra, if in the shoulder, and lumbago, if in the back. All these are varieties of gout, and for all these the contents of this little bottle is a sovereign remedy; and, observe, it will keep for ever. Twenty years hence, when afflicted in your old age—and the time will come, my good people—you may take down this little phial from the shelf, and bless the hour in which you spent your shilling; for, as Eusebius declares, ‘Verbum personate concordat cum nominativo,’ which is as much as to say, the active will grow old, and suffer from pains in their limbs. Who, then, has pains in his limbs, or lumbago? Who, indeed, can say that he will not have them?”

After this appeal, the number of those who had pains in their limbs, or who wished to provide against such a disease, proved so great, that all our phials were disposed of, and the doctor was obliged to promise that in a few days he would have some more of this invaluable medicine ready.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I shall now offer to your notice a valuable plaster, the effects of which are miraculous. Dionysius, come hither, you have felt the benefit of this plaster; tell your case to those who are present, and mind you tell the truth.”

Hereupon Timothy stepped forward. “Ladies and gentlemen, upon my honour, about three weeks back I fell off the scaffold, broke my back bone into three pieces, and was carried off to a surgeon, who looked at me, and told the people to take measure for my coffin. The great doctor was not there at the time, having been sent for to consult with the king’s physicians upon the queen’s case, of Cophagus, or intermitting mortification of the great toe; but fortunately, just as they were putting me into a shell, my master came back, and immediately applying his sovereign plaster to my back, in five days I was able to sit up, and in ten days I returned to my duty.”

“Are you quite well now, Dionysius?”

“Quite well, sir, and my back is like whalebone.”

“Try it.”

Hereupon Dionysius threw two somersets forward, two backward, walked across the stage on his hands, and tumbled in every direction.

“You see, gentlemen, I’m quite well now, and what I have said, I assure you, on my honour, to be a fact.”

“I hope you’ll allow that to be a very pretty cure,” said the doctor, appealing to the audience; “and I hardly need say, that for sprains, bruises, contusions, wrenches, and dislocations, this plaster is infallible; and I will surprise you more by telling you, that I can sell it for eight-pence a sheet.”

The plaster went off rapidly, and was soon expended. The doctor went on describing his other valuable articles, and when he came to his cosmetics, etcetera, for women, we could not hand them out fast enough. “And now,” said the doctor. “I must bid you farewell for this evening.”

“I’m glad of that,” said Timothy, “for now I mean to sell my own medicine.”

“Your medicine, Mr Dionysius! what do you mean by that?”

“Mean, sir; I mean to say that I’ve got a powder of my own contriving, which is a sovereign remedy.”

“Remedy, sir, for what?”

“Why, it’s a powder to kill fleas, and what’s more, it’s just as infallible as your own.”

“Have you, indeed; and pray, sir, how did you hit upon the invention?”

“Sir, I discovered it in my sleep by accident; but I have proved it, and I will say, if properly administered, it is quite as infallible as any of yours. Ladies and gentlemen, I pledge you my honour that it will have the effect desired, and all I ask is sixpence a powder.”

“But how is it to be used, sir?”

“Used—why, like all other powders; but I won’t give the directions till I have sold some; promising, however, if my method does not succeed, to return the money.”

“Well, that is fair, Mr Dionysius; and I will take care that you keep your bargain. Will anybody purchase the fool’s powder for killing fleas.”

“Yes, I will,” replied a man on the broad grin, “here’s sixpence. Now, then, fool, how am I to use it?”

“Use it,” said Timothy, putting the sixpence in his pocket; “I’ll explain to you. You must first catch the flea, hold him so tight between the forefinger and thumb as to force him to open his mouth; when his mouth is open you must put a very little of this powder into it, and it will kill him directly.”

“Why, when I have the flea as tight as you state, I may as well kill him myself.”

“Very true, so you may, if you prefer it; but if you do not, you may use this powder, which upon my honour is infallible.”

This occasioned a great deal of mirth among the bystanders. Timothy kept his sixpence, and our exhibition for this day ended, very much to the satisfaction of Melchior, who declared he had taken more than ever he had done before in a whole week. Indeed, the whole sum amounted to 17 pounds, 10 shillings, all taken in shillings and sixpences, for articles hardly worth the odd shillings in the account; so we sat down to supper with anticipations of a good harvest, and so it proved. We stayed four days at this town, and then proceeded onwards, when the like success attended us, Timothy and I being obliged to sit up nearly the whole night to label and roll up pills, and mix medicines, which we did in a very scientific manner. Nor was it always that Melchior presided; he would very often tell his audience that business required his attendance elsewhere, to visit the sick, and that he left the explanation of his medicines and their properties to his pupil, who was far advanced in knowledge. With my prepossessing appearance, I made a great effect, more especially among the ladies, and Timothy exerted himself so much when with me, that we never failed to bring home to Melchior a great addition to his earnings—so much so, that at last he only showed himself, pretended that he was so importuned to visit sick persons, that he could stay no longer, and then leave us after the first half hour, to carry on the business for him. After six weeks of uninterrupted success, we returned to the camp which, as usual, was not very very far off.

Part 1—Chapter XVI

Important News, but not communicated—A Dissolution or Partnership takes Place.

Melchior’s profits had been much more than he anticipated, and he was very liberal to Timothy and myself; indeed, he looked upon me as his right hand, and became more intimate and attached every day. We were, of course, delighted to return to the camp, after our excursion. There was so much continued bustle and excitement in our peculiar profession, that a little quiet was delightful; and I never felt more happy than when Fleta threw herself into my arms, and Nattée came forward with her usual dignity and grace, but with more than usual condescendence and kindness, bidding me welcome home. Home—alas! it was never meant for my home, or poor Fleta’s—and that I felt. It was our sojourn for a time, and no more.

We had been more than a year exercising our talents in this lucrative manner, when one day, as I was sitting at the entrance to the tent, with a book in my hand, out of which Fleta was reading to me, a gipsy not belonging to our gang made his appearance. He was covered with dust, and the dew drops, hanging on his dark forehead, proved that he had travelled fast. He addressed Nattée, who was standing by, in their own language, which I did not understand; but I perceived that he asked for Melchior. After an exchange of a few sentences, Nattée expressed astonishment and alarm, put her hands over her face, and removed them as quickly, as if derogatory in her to show emotion, and then remained in deep thought. Perceiving Melchior approaching, the gipsy hastened to him, and they were soon in animated conversation. In ten minutes it was over: the gipsy went to the running brook, washed his face, took a large draught of water, and then hastened away and was soon out of sight.

Melchior, who had watched the departure of the gipsy slowly approached us. I observed him and Nattée as they met as I was certain that something important had taken place. Melchior fixed his eyes upon Nattée—she looked at him mournfully—folded her arms, and made a slight bow as if in submission, and in a low voice quoted from the Scriptures, “Whither thou goest, I will go—thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” He then walked away with her: they sat down apart, and were in earnest conversation for more than an hour.

“Japhet,” said Melchior to me, after he had quitted his wife, “what I am about to tell you will surprise you. I have trusted you with all I dare trust anyone, but there are some secrets in every man’s life which had better be reserved for himself and her who is bound to him by solemn ties. We must now part. In a few days this camp will be broken up, and these people will join some other division of the tribe. For me, you will see me no more. Ask me not to explain, for I cannot.”