a wanderer, does he
insult helpless women on the road with loose proposals or ribald
discourse? Does he take what is not his own from the hedges? Does he
play on the fiddle, or make faces in public-houses, in order to obtain
pence or beer? or does he call for liquor, swallow it, and then say to a
widowed landlady, 'Mistress, I have no brass'? In a word, what vice and
crime does he perpetrate--what low acts does he commit? Therefore, with
his endowments, who will venture to say that he is no gentleman?--unless
it be an admirer of Mr. Flamson--a clown--who will, perhaps, shout: 'I
say he is no gentleman; for who can be a gentleman who keeps no gig?'
{332}

The indifference exhibited by Lavengro for what is merely genteel,
compared with his solicitude never to infringe the strict laws of honour,
should read a salutary lesson. The generality of his countrymen are far
more careful not to transgress the customs of what they call gentility
than to violate the laws of honour or morality. They will shrink from
carrying their own carpet-bag, and from speaking to a person in seedy
raiment, whilst to matters of much higher importance they are shamelessly
indifferent. Not so Lavengro; he will do anything that he deems
convenient, or which strikes his fancy, provided it does not outrage
decency, or is unallied to profligacy; is not ashamed to speak to a
beggar in rags, and will associate with anybody, provided he can gratify
a laudable curiosity. He has no abstract love for what is low, or what
the world calls low. He sees that many things which the world looks down
upon are valuable, so he prizes much which the world contemns; he sees
that many things which the world admires are contemptible, so he despises
much which the world does not; but when the world prizes what is really
excellent, he does not contemn it, because the world regards it. If he
learns Irish, which all the world scoffs at, he likewise learns Italian,
which all the world melts at. If he learns Gypsy, the language of the
tattered tent, he likewise learns Greek, the language of the college
hall. If he learns smithery, he also learns--ah! what does he learn to
set against smithery?--the law? No; he does not learn the law, which, by
the way, is not very genteel. Swimming! Yes, he learns to swim.
Swimming, however, is not genteel; and the world--at least the genteel
part of it--acts very wisely in setting its face against it; for to swim
you must be naked