Lavengro

G >> George Borrow >> Lavengro


'And where will you take me?'

'Why, then, to Ryan's Castle, little Sas.'

'You do not speak the language very correctly,' said I; 'it is not Sas
you should call me--'tis Sassannach,' and forthwith I accompanied the
word with a speech full of flowers of Irish rhetoric.

The man looked upon me for a moment, fixedly, then, bending his head
towards his breast, he appeared to be undergoing a kind of convulsion,
which was accompanied by a sound something resembling laughter; presently
he looked at me, and there was a broad grin on his features.

'By my shoul, it's a thing of peace I'm thinking ye.'

But now with a whisking sound came running down the road a hare; it was
nearly upon us before it perceived us; suddenly stopping short, however,
it sprang into the bog on the right-hand side; after it amain bounded the
dog of peace, followed by the man, but not until he had nodded to me a
farewell salutation. In a few moments I lost sight of him amidst the
snowflakes.

The weather was again clear and fine before I reached the place of
detachment. It was a little wooden barrack, surrounded by a wall of the
same material; a sentinel stood at the gate, I passed by him, and,
entering the building, found myself in a rude kind of guardroom; several
soldiers were lying asleep on a wooden couch at one end, others lounged
on benches by the side of a turf fire. The tall sergeant stood before
the fire, holding a cooking utensil in his left hand; on seeing me, he
made the military salutation.

'Is my brother here?' said I, rather timidly, dreading to hear that he
was out, perhaps for the day.

'The ensign is in his room, sir,' said Bagg, 'I am now preparing his
meal, which will presently be ready; you will find the ensign above
stairs,' and he pointed to a broken ladder which led to some place above.

And there I found him--the boy soldier--in a kind of upper loft, so low
that I could touch with my hands the sooty rafters; the floor was of
rough boards, through the joints of which you could see the gleam of the
soldiers' fire, and occasionally discern their figures as they moved
about; in one corner was a camp bedstead, by the side of which hung the
child's sword, gorget, and sash; a deal table stood in the proximity of
the rusty grate, where smoked and smouldered a pile of black turf from
the bog,--a deal table without a piece of baize to cover it, yet fraught
with things not devoid of interest: a Bible, given by a mother; the
_Odyssey_, the Greek _Odyssey_; a flute, with broad silver keys; crayons,
moreover, and water-colours; and a sketch of a wild prospect near, which,
though but half finished, afforded ample proof of the excellence and
skill of the boyish hand now occupied upon it.

Ah! he was a sweet being, that boy soldier, a plant of early promise,
bidding fair to become in after time all that is great, good, and
admirable. I have read of a remarkable Welshman, of whom it was said,
when the grave closed over him, that he could frame a harp, and play it;
build a ship, and sail it; compose an ode, and set it to music. A brave
fellow that son of Wales--but I had once a brother who could do more and
better than this, but the grave has closed over him, as over the gallant
Welshman of yore; there are now but two that remember him--the one who
bore him, and the being who was nurtured at the same breast. He was
taken, and I was left!--Truly, the ways of Providence are inscrutable.

'You seem to be very comfortable, John,' said I, looking around the room
and at the various objects which I have described above: 'you have a good
roof over your head, and have all your things about you.'

'Yes, I am very comfortable, George, in many respects; I am, moreover,
independent, and feel myself a man for the first time in my
life--independent did I say?--that's not the word, I am something much
higher than that; here am I, not sixteen yet, a person in authority, like
the centurion in the book there, with twenty Englishmen under me, worth a
whole legion of his men, and that fine fellow Bagg to wait upon me, and
take my orders. Oh! these last six weeks have passed like hours of
heaven.'

'But your time must frequently hang heavy on your hands; this is a
strange wild place, and you must be very solitary?'

'I am never solitary; I have, as you see, all my things about me, and
there is plenty of company below stairs. Not that I mix with the
soldiers; if I did, good-bye to my authority; but when I am alone I can
hear all their discourse through the planks, and I often laugh to myself
at the funny things they say.'

'And have you any acquaintance here?'

'The very best; much better than the Colonel and the rest, at their grand
Templemore; I had never so many in my whole life before. One has just
left me, a gentleman who lives at a distance across the bog; he comes to
talk with me about Greek, and the _Odyssey_, for he is a very learned
man, and understands the old Irish, and various other strange languages.
He has had a dispute with Bagg. On hearing his name, he called him to
him, and, after looking at him for some time with great curiosity, said
that he was sure he was a Dane. Bagg, however, took the compliment in
dudgeon, and said that he was no more a Dane than himself, but a true-
born Englishman, and a sergeant of six years' standing.'

'And what other acquaintance have you?'

'All kinds; the whole neighbourhood can't make enough of me. Amongst
others there's the clergyman of the parish and his family; such a
venerable old man, such fine sons and daughters! I am treated by them
like a son and a brother--I might be always with them if I pleased;
there's one drawback, however, in going to see them; there's a horrible
creature in the house, a kind of tutor, whom they keep more from charity
than anything else; he is a Papist and, they say, a priest; you should
see him scowl sometimes at my red coat, for he hates the king, and not
unfrequently, when the king's health is drunk, curses him between his
teeth. I once got up to strike him; but the youngest of the sisters, who
is the handsomest, caught my arm and pointed to her forehead.'

'And what does your duty consist of? Have you nothing else to do than
pay visits and receive them?'

'We do what is required of us, we guard this edifice, perform our
evolutions, and help the excise; I am frequently called up in the dead of
night to go to some wild place or other in quest of an illicit still;
this last part of our duty is poor mean work, I don't like it, nor more
does Bagg; though without it we should not see much active service, for
the neighbourhood is quiet; save the poor creatures with their stills,
not a soul is stirring. 'Tis true there's Jerry Grant.'

'And who is Jerry Grant?'

'Did you never hear of him? that's strange, the whole country is talking
about him; he is a kind of outlaw, rebel, or robber, all three I daresay;
there's a hundred pounds offered for his head.'

'And where does he live?'

'His proper home, they say, is in the Queen's County, where he has a
band, but he is a strange fellow, fond of wandering about by himself
amidst the bogs and mountains, and living in the old castles;
occasionally he quarters himself in the peasants' houses, who let him do
just what he pleases; he is free of his money, and often does them good
turns, and can be good-humoured enough, so they don't dislike him. Then
he is what they call a fairy man, a person in league with fairies and
spirits, and able to work much harm by supernatural means, on which
account they hold him in great awe; he is, moreover, a mighty strong and
tall fellow. Bagg has seen him.'

'Has he?'

'Yes! and felt him; he too is a strange one. A few days ago he was told
that Grant had been seen hovering about an old castle some two miles off
in the bog; so one afternoon what does he do but, without saying a word
to me--for which, by the bye, I ought to put him under arrest, though
what I should do without Bagg I have no idea whatever--what does he do
but walk off to the castle, intending, as I suppose, to pay a visit to
Jerry. He had some difficulty in getting there on account of the turf-
holes in the bog, which he was not accustomed to; however, thither at
last he got and went in. It was a strange lonesome place, he says, and
he did not much like the look of it; however, in he went, and searched
about from the bottom to the top and down again, but could find no one;
he shouted and hallooed, but nobody answered, save the rooks and choughs,
which started up in great numbers. "I have lost my trouble," said Bagg,
and left the castle. It was now late in the afternoon, near sunset, when
about half-way over the bog he met a man--'

'And that man was--'

'Jerry Grant! there's no doubt of it. Bagg says it was the most sudden
thing in the world. He was moving along, making the best of his way,
thinking of nothing at all save a public-house at Swanton Morley, which
he intends to take when he gets home, and the regiment is
disbanded--though I hope that will not be for some time yet: he had just
leaped a turf-hole, and was moving on, when, at the distance of about six
yards before him, he saw a fellow coming straight towards him. Bagg says
that he stopped short, as suddenly as if he had heard the word halt, when
marching at double quick time. It was quite a surprise, he says, and he
can't imagine how the fellow was so close upon him before he was aware.
He was an immense tall fellow--Bagg thinks at least two inches taller
than himself--very well dressed in a blue coat and buff breeches, for all
the world like a squire when going out hunting. Bagg, however, saw at
once that he had a roguish air, and he was on his guard in a moment.
"Good-evening to ye, sodger," says the fellow, stepping close up to Bagg,
and staring him in the face. "Good-evening to you, sir! I hope you are
well," says Bagg. "You are looking after some one?" says the fellow.
"Just so, sir," says Bagg, and forthwith seized him by the collar; the
man laughed, Bagg says it was such a strange awkward laugh. "Do you know
whom you have got hold of, sodger?" said he. "I believe I do, sir," said
Bagg, "and in that belief will hold you fast in the name of King George
and the quarter sessions"; the next moment he was sprawling with his
heels in the air. Bagg says there was nothing remarkable in that; he was
only flung by a kind of wrestling trick, which he could easily have
baffled had he been aware of it. "You will not do that again, sir," said
he, as he got up and put himself on his guard. The fellow laughed again
more strangely and awkwardly than before; then, bending his body and
moving his head from one side to the other as a cat does before she
springs, and crying out, "Here's for ye, sodger!" he made a dart at Bagg,
rushing in with his head foremost. "That will do, sir," says Bagg, and,
drawing himself back, he put in a left-handed blow with all the force of
his body and arm, just over the fellow's right eye--Bagg is a left-handed
hitter, you must know--and it was a blow of that kind which won him his
famous battle at Edinburgh with the big Highland sergeant. Bagg says
that he was quite satisfied with the blow, more especially when he saw
the fellow reel, fling out his arms, and fall to the ground. "And now,
sir," said he, "I'll make bold to hand you over to the quarter sessions,
and, if there is a hundred pounds for taking you, who has more right to
it than myself?" So he went forward, but ere he could lay hold of his
man the other was again on his legs, and was prepared to renew the
combat. They grappled each other--Bagg says he had not much fear of the
result, as he now felt himself the best man, the other seeming
half-stunned with the blow--but just then there came on a blast, a
horrible roaring wind bearing night upon its wings, snow, and sleet, and
hail. Bagg says he had the fellow by the throat quite fast, as he
thought, but suddenly he became bewildered, and knew not where he was;
and the man seemed to melt away from his grasp, and the wind howled more
and more, and the night poured down darker and darker; the snow and the
sleet thicker and more blinding. "Lord have mercy upon us!" said Bagg.'

_Myself_. A strange adventure that; it is well that Bagg got home alive.

_John_. He says that the fight was a fair fight, and that the fling he
got was a fair fling, the result of a common enough wrestling trick. But
with respect to the storm, which rose up just in time to save the fellow,
he is of opinion that it was not fair, but something Irish and
supernatural.

_Myself_. I daresay he's right. I have read of witchcraft in the Bible.

_John_. He wishes much to have one more encounter with the fellow; he
says that on fair ground, and in fine weather, he has no doubt that he
could master him, and hand him over to the quarter sessions. He says
that a hundred pounds would be no bad thing to be disbanded upon; for he
wishes to take an inn at Swanton Morley, keep a cock-pit, and live
respectably.

_Myself_. He is quite right; and now kiss me, my darling brother, for I
must go back through the bog to Templemore.




CHAPTER XIII


Groom and cob--Strength and symmetry--Where's the saddle?--The first
ride--No more fatigue--Love for horses--Pursuit of words--Philologist and
Pegasus--The smith--What more, agrah?--Sassannach tenpence.

And it came to pass that, as I was standing by the door of the barrack
stable, one of the grooms came out to me, saying, 'I say, young
gentleman, I wish you would give the cob a breathing this fine morning.'

'Why do you wish me to mount him?' said I; 'you know he is dangerous. I
saw him fling you off his back only a few days ago.'

'Why, that's the very thing, master. I'd rather see anybody on his back
than myself; he does not like me; but, to them he does, he can be as
gentle as a lamb.'

'But suppose,' said I, 'that he should not like me?'

'We shall soon see that, master,' said the groom; 'and, if so be he shows
temper, I will be the first to tell you to get down. But there's no fear
of that; you have never angered or insulted him, and to such as you, I
say again, he'll be as gentle as a lamb.'

'And how came you to insult him,' said I, 'knowing his temper as you do?'

'Merely through forgetfulness, master: I was riding him about a month
ago, and having a stick in my hand, I struck him, thinking I was on
another horse, or rather thinking of nothing at all. He has never
forgiven me, though before that time he was the only friend I had in the
world; I should like to see you on him, master.'

'I should soon be off him; I can't ride.'

'Then you are all right, master; there's no fear. Trust him for not
hurting a young gentleman, an officer's son, who can't ride. If you were
a blackguard dragoon, indeed, with long spurs, 'twere another thing; as
it is, he'll treat you as if he were the elder brother that loves you.
Ride! He'll soon teach you to ride if you leave the matter with him.
He's the best riding-master in all Ireland, and the gentlest.'

The cob was led forth; what a tremendous creature! I had frequently seen
him before, and wondered at him; he was barely fifteen hands, but he had
the girth of a metropolitan dray-horse; his head was small in comparison
with his immense neck, which curved down nobly to his wide back: his
chest was broad and fine, and his shoulders models of symmetry and
strength; he stood well and powerfully upon his legs, which were somewhat
short. In a word, he was a gallant specimen of the genuine Irish cob, a
species at one time not uncommon, but at the present day nearly extinct.

'There!' said the groom, as he looked at him, half admiringly, half
sorrowfully, 'with sixteen stone on his back, he'll trot fourteen miles
in one hour, with your nine stone, some two and a half more ay, and clear
a six-foot wall at the end of it.'

'I'm half afraid,' said I; 'I had rather you would ride him.'

'I'd rather so, too, if he would let me; but he remembers the blow. Now,
don't be afraid, young master, he's longing to go out himself. He's been
trampling with his feet these three days, and I know what that means;
he'll let anybody ride him but myself, and thank them; but to me he says,
"No! you struck me."'

'But,' said I, 'where's the saddle?'

'Never mind the saddle; if you are ever to be a frank rider, you must
begin without a saddle; besides, if he felt a saddle, he would think you
don't trust him, and leave you to yourself. Now, before you mount, make
his acquaintance--see there, how he kisses you and licks your face, and
see how he lifts his foot, that's to shake hands. You may trust him--now
you are on his back at last; mind how you hold the bridle--gently,
gently! It's not four pair of hands like yours can hold him if he wishes
to be off. Mind what I tell you--leave it all to him.'

Off went the cob at a slow and gentle trot, too fast and rough, however,
for so inexperienced a rider. I soon felt myself sliding off, the animal
perceived it too, and instantly stood stone still till I had righted
myself; and now the groom came up: 'When you feel yourself going,' said
he, 'don't lay hold of the mane, that's no use; mane never yet saved man
from falling, no more than straw from drowning; it's his sides you must
cling to with your calves and feet, till you learn to balance yourself.
That's it, now abroad with you; I'll bet my comrade a pot of beer that
you'll be a regular rough-rider by the time you come back.'

And so it proved; I followed the directions of the groom, and the cob
gave me every assistance. How easy is riding, after the first timidity
is got over, to supple and youthful limbs; and there is no second fear.
The creature soon found that the nerves of his rider were in proper tone.
Turning his head half round, he made a kind of whining noise, flung out a
little foam, and set off.

In less than two hours I had made the circuit of the Devil's Mountain,
and was returning along the road, bathed with perspiration, but screaming
with delight; the cob laughing in his equine way, scattering foam and
pebbles to the left and right, and trotting at the rate of sixteen miles
an hour.

Oh, that ride! that first ride!--most truly it was an epoch in my
existence; and I still look back to it with feelings of longing and
regret. People may talk of first love--it is a very agreeable event, I
daresay--but give me the flush, and triumph, and glorious sweat of a
first ride, like mine on the mighty cob! My whole frame was shaken, it
is true; and during one long week I could hardly move foot or hand; but
what of that? By that one trial I had become free, as I may say, of the
whole equine species. No more fatigue, no more stiffness of joints,
after that first ride round the Devil's Hill on the cob.

Oh, that cob! that Irish cob!--may the sod lie lightly over the bones of
the strongest, speediest, and most gallant of its kind! Oh! the days
when, issuing from the barrack-gate of Templemore, we commenced our hurry-
skurry just as inclination led--now across the fields--direct over stone
walls and running brooks--mere pastime for the cob!--sometimes along the
road to Thurles and Holy Cross, even to distant Cahir!--what was distance
to the cob?

It was thus that the passion for the equine race was first awakened
within me--a passion which, up to the present time, has been rather on
the increase than diminishing. It is no blind passion; the horse being a
noble and generous creature, intended by the All-Wise to be the helper
and friend of man, to whom he stands next in the order of creation. On
many occasions of my life I have been much indebted to the horse, and
have found in him a friend and coadjutor, when human help and sympathy
were not to be obtained. It is therefore natural enough that I should
love the horse; but the love which I entertain for him has always been
blended with respect; for I soon perceived that, though disposed to be
the friend and helper of man, he is by no means inclined to be his slave;
in which respect he differs from the dog, who will crouch when beaten;
whereas the horse spurns, for he is aware of his own worth and that he
carries death within the horn of his heel. If, therefore, I found it
easy to love the horse, I found it equally natural to respect him.

I much question whether philology, or the passion for languages, requires
so little of an apology as the love for horses. It has been said, I
believe, that the more languages a man speaks, the more a man is he;
which is very true, provided he acquires languages as a medium for
becoming acquainted with the thoughts and feelings of the various
sections into which the human race is divided; but, in that case, he
should rather be termed a philosopher than a philologist--between which
two the difference is wide indeed! An individual may speak and read a
dozen languages, and yet be an exceedingly poor creature, scarcely half a
man; and the pursuit of tongues for their own sake, and the mere
satisfaction of acquiring them, surely argues an intellect of a very low
order; a mind disposed to be satisfied with mean and grovelling things;
taking more pleasure in the trumpery casket than in the precious treasure
which it contains; in the pursuit of words, than in the acquisition of
ideas.

I cannot help thinking that it was fortunate for myself, who am, to a
certain extent, a philologist, that with me the pursuit of languages has
been always modified by the love of horses; for scarcely had I turned my
mind to the former, when I also mounted the wild cob, and hurried forth
in the direction of the Devil's Hill, scattering dust and flint-stones on
every side; that ride, amongst other things, taught me that a lad with
thews and sinews was intended by nature for something better than mere
word-culling; and if I have accomplished anything in after life worthy of
mentioning, I believe it may partly be attributed to the ideas which that
ride, by setting my blood in a glow, infused into my brain. I might,
otherwise, have become a mere philologist; one of those beings who toil
night and day in culling useless words for some _opus magnum_ which
Murray will never publish, and nobody ever read; beings without
enthusiasm, who, having never mounted a generous steed, cannot detect a
good point in Pegasus himself; like a certain philologist, who, though
acquainted with the exact value of every word in the Greek and Latin
languages, could observe no particular beauty in one of the most glorious
of Homer's rhapsodies. What knew he of Pegasus? he had never mounted a
generous steed; the merest jockey, had the strain been interpreted to
him, would have called it a brave song!--I return to the brave cob.

On a certain day I had been out on an excursion. In a cross-road, at
some distance from the Satanic hill, the animal which I rode cast a shoe.
By good luck a small village was at hand, at the entrance of which was a
large shed, from which proceeded a most furious noise of hammering.
Leading the cob by the bridle, I entered boldly. 'Shoe this horse, and
do it quickly, a gough,' said I to a wild grimy figure of a man, whom I
found alone, fashioning a piece of iron.

'Arrigod yuit?' said the fellow, desisting from his work, and staring at
me.

'Oh yes, I have money,' said I, 'and of the best'; and I pulled out an
English shilling.

'Tabhair chugam?' said the smith, stretching out his grimy hand.

'No, I shan't,' said I; 'some people are glad to get their money when
their work is done.'

The fellow hammered a little longer, and then proceeded to shoe the cob,
after having first surveyed it with attention. He performed his job
rather roughly, and more than once appeared to give the animal
unnecessary pain, frequently making use of loud and boisterous words. By
the time the work was done, the creature was in a state of high
excitement, and plunged and tore. The smith stood at a short distance,
seeming to enjoy the irritation of the animal, and showing, in a
remarkable manner, a huge fang, which projected from the under jaw of a
very wry mouth.

'You deserve better handling,' said I, as I went up to the cob and
fondled it; whereupon it whinnied, and attempted to touch my face with
its nose.

{picture:'Arrigod yuit?' said the fellow, desisting from his work, and
staring at me: page94.jpg}

'Are ye not afraid of that beast?' said the smith, showing his fang.
'Arrah, it's vicious that he looks!'

'It's at you, then!--I don't fear him'; and thereupon I passed under the
horse, between its hind legs.

'And is that all you can do, agrah?' said the smith.

'No,' said I, 'I can ride him.'

'Ye can ride him, and what else, agrah?'

'I can leap him over a six-foot wall,' said I.

'Over a wall, and what more, agrah?'

'Nothing more,' said I; 'what more would you have?'

'Can you do this, agrah?' said the smith; and he uttered a word which I
had never heard before, in a sharp pungent tone. The effect upon myself
was somewhat extraordinary, a strange thrill ran through me; but with
regard to the cob it was terrible; the animal forthwith became like one
mad, and reared and kicked with the utmost desperation.