Lavengro

G >> George Borrow >> Lavengro

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50

CHAPTER XI.

Templemore--Devil's Mountain--No Companion--Force of Circumstance--Way of
the World--Ruined Castle--Grim and Desolate--The Donjon--Old Woman--My
Own House.

When Christmas was over, and the new year commenced, we broke up our
quarters, and marched away to Templemore. This was a large military
station, situated in a wild and thinly inhabited country. Extensive bogs
were in the neighbourhood, connected with the huge bog of Allan, the
Palus Maeotis of Ireland. Here and there was seen a ruined castle
looming through the mists of winter; whilst, at the distance of seven
miles, rose a singular mountain, exhibiting in its brow a chasm, or
vacuum, just, for all the world, as if a piece had been bitten out; a
feat which, according to the tradition of the country, had actually been
performed by his Satanic majesty, who, after flying for some leagues with
the morsel in his mouth, becoming weary, dropped it in the vicinity of
Cashel, where it may now be seen in the shape of a bold bluff hill,
crowned with the ruins of a stately edifice, probably built by some
ancient Irish king.

We had been here only a few days, when my brother, who, as I have before
observed, had become one of his Majesty's officers, was sent on a
detachment to a village at about ten miles' distance. He was not
sixteen, and, though three years older than myself, scarcely my equal in
stature, for I had become tall and large-limbed for my age; but there was
a spirit in him that would not have disgraced a general; and, nothing
daunted at the considerable responsibility which he was about to incur,
he marched sturdily out of the barrack-yard at the head of his party,
consisting of twenty light-infantry men, and a tall grenadier sergeant,
selected expressly by my father, for the soldier-like qualities which he
possessed, to accompany his son on this his first expedition. So out of
the barrack-yard, with something of an air, marched my dear brother, his
single drum and fife playing the inspiring old melody,

"Marlbrouk is gone to the wars,
He'll never return no more!"

I soon missed my brother, for I was now alone, with no being, at all
assimilating in age, with whom I could exchange a word. Of late years,
from being almost constantly at school, I had cast aside, in a great
degree, my unsocial habits and natural reserve, but in the desolate
region in which we now were there was no school: and I felt doubly the
loss of my brother, whom, moreover, I tenderly loved for his own sake.
Books I had none, at least such "as I cared about;" and with respect to
the old volume, the wonders of which had first beguiled me into common
reading, I had so frequently pored over its pages, that I had almost got
its contents by heart. I was therefore in danger of falling into the
same predicament as Murtagh, becoming "frighted" from having nothing to
do! Nay, I had not even his resources; I cared not for cards, even if I
possessed them, and could find people disposed to play with them.
However, I made the most of circumstances, and roamed about the desolate
fields and bogs in the neighbourhood, sometimes entering the cabins of
the peasantry, with a "God's blessing upon you, good people!" where I
would take my seat on the "stranger's stone" at the corner of the hearth,
and, looking them full in the face, would listen to the carles and
carlines talking Irish.

Ah, that Irish! How frequently do circumstances, at first sight the most
trivial and unimportant, exercise a mighty and permanent influence on our
habits and pursuits!--how frequently is a stream turned aside from its
natural course by some little rock or knoll, causing it to make an abrupt
turn! On a wild road in Ireland I had heard Irish spoken for the first
time; and I was seized with a desire to learn Irish, the acquisition of
which, in my case, became the stepping-stone to other languages. I had
previously learnt Latin, or rather Lilly; but neither Latin nor Lilly
made me a philologist. I had frequently heard French and other
languages, but had felt little desire to become acquainted with them; and
what, it may be asked, was there connected with the Irish calculated to
recommend it to my attention?

First of all, and principally, I believe, the strangeness and singularity
of its tones; then there was something mysterious and uncommon associated
with its use. It was not a school language, to acquire which was
considered an imperative duty; no, no; nor was it a drawing-room
language, drawled out occasionally, in shreds and patches, by the ladies
of generals and other great dignitaries, to the ineffable dismay of poor
officers' wives. Nothing of the kind; but a speech spoken in out-of-the-
way desolate places, and in cut-throat kens, where thirty ruffians, at
the sight of the king's minions, would spring up with brandished sticks
and an "ubbubboo, like the blowing up of a powder-magazine." Such were
the points connected with the Irish, which first awakened in my mind the
desire of acquiring it; and by acquiring it I became, as I have already
said, enamoured of languages. Having learnt one by chance, I speedily,
as the reader will perceive, learnt others, some of which were widely
different from Irish.

Ah, that Irish! I am much indebted to it in more ways than one. But I
am afraid I have followed the way of the world, which is very much wont
to neglect original friends and benefactors. I frequently find myself,
at present, turning up my nose at Irish, when I hear it in the street;
yet I have still a kind of regard for it, the fine old language:

"A labhair Padruic n'insefail nan riogh."

One of the most peculiar features of this part of Ireland is the ruined
castles, which are so thick and numerous that the face of the country
appears studded with them, it being difficult to choose any situation
from which one, at least, may not be descried. They are of various ages
and styles of architecture, some of great antiquity, like the stately
remains which crown the Crag of Cashel; others built by the early English
conquerors; others, and probably the greater part, erections of the times
of Elizabeth and Cromwell. The whole speaking monuments of the troubled
and insecure state of the country, from the most remote periods to a
comparatively modern time.

From the windows of the room where I slept I had a view of one of these
old places--an indistinct one, it is true, the distance being too great
to permit me to distinguish more than the general outline. I had an
anxious desire to explore it. It stood to the south-east; in which
direction, however, a black bog intervened, which had more than once
baffled all my attempts to cross it. One morning, however, when the sun
shone brightly upon the old building, it appeared so near, that I felt
ashamed at not being able to accomplish a feat seemingly so easy; I
determined, therefore, upon another trial. I reached the bog, and was
about to venture upon its black surface, and to pick my way amongst its
innumerable holes, yawning horribly, and half filled with water black as
soot, when it suddenly occurred to me that there was a road to the south,
by following which I might find a more convenient route to the object of
my wishes. The event justified my expectations, for, after following the
road for some three miles, seemingly in the direction of the Devil's
Mountain, I suddenly beheld the castle on my left.

I diverged from the road, and, crossing two or three fields, came to a
small grassy plain, in the midst of which stood the castle. About a gun-
shot to the south was a small village, which had, probably, in ancient
days, sprung up beneath its protection. A kind of awe came over me as I
approached the old building. The sun no longer shone upon it, and it
looked so grim, so desolate and solitary; and here was I, in that wild
country, alone with that grim building before me. The village was within
sight, it is true; but it might be a village of the dead for what I knew;
no sound issued from it, no smoke was rising from its roofs, neither man
nor beast was visible, no life, no motion--it looked as desolate as the
castle itself. Yet I was bent on the adventure, and moved on towards the
castle across the green plain, occasionally casting a startled glance
around me; and now I was close to it.

It was surrounded by a quadrangular wall, about ten feet in height, with
a square tower at each corner. At first I could discover no entrance;
walking round, however, to the northern side, I found a wide and lofty
gateway with a tower above it, similar to those at the angles of the
wall; on this side the ground sloped gently down towards the bog, which
was here skirted by an abundant growth of copsewood, and a few evergreen
oaks. I passed through the gateway, and found myself within a square
enclosure of about two acres. On one side rose a round and lofty keep,
or donjon, with a conical roof, part of which had fallen down, strewing
the square with its ruins. Close to the keep, on the other side, stood
the remains of an oblong house, built something in the modern style, with
various window-holes; nothing remained but the bare walls and a few
projecting stumps of beams, which seemed to have been half burnt. The
interior of the walls was blackened, as if by fire; fire also appeared at
one time to have raged out of the window-holes, for the outside about
them was black, portentously so. "I wonder what has been going on here!"
I exclaimed.

There were echoes along the walls as I walked about the court. I entered
the keep by a low and frowning doorway: the lower floor consisted of a
large dungeon-like room, with a vaulted roof; on the left hand was a
winding staircase in the thickness of the wall; it looked anything but
inviting; yet I stole softly up, my heart beating. On the top of the
first flight of stairs was an arched doorway, to the left was a dark
passage, to the right, stairs leading still higher. I stepped under the
arch and found myself in an apartment somewhat similar to the one below,
but higher. There was an object at the farther end.

An old woman, at least eighty, was seated on a stone, cowering over a few
sticks burning feebly on what had once been a right noble and cheerful
hearth; her side-glance was towards the doorway as I entered, for she had
heard my footsteps. I stood suddenly still, and her haggard glance
rested on my face.

"Is this your house, mother?" I at length demanded, in the language which
I thought she would best understand.

"Yes, my house, my own house; the house of the broken-hearted."

"Any other person's house?" I demanded.

"My own house, the beggar's house--the accursed house of Cromwell!"

CHAPTER XII.

A Visit--Figure of a Man--The Dog of Peace--The Raw Wound--The
Guard-room--Boy Soldier--Person in Authority--Never Solitary--Clergyman
and Family--Still-Hunting--Fairy Man--Near Sunset--Bagg--Left-Handed
Hitter--Irish and Supernatural--At Swanton Morley.

One morning I set out, designing to pay a visit to my brother, at the
place where he was detached; the distance was rather considerable, yet I
hoped to be back by evening fall, for I was now a shrewd walker, thanks
to constant practice. I set out early, and, directing my course towards
the north, I had in less than two hours accomplished considerably more
than half of the journey. The weather had been propitious; a slight
frost had rendered the ground firm to the tread, and the skies were
clear; but now a change came over the scene, the skies darkened and a
heavy snow-storm came on; the road then lay straight through a bog, and
was bounded by a deep trench on both sides; I was making the best of my
way, keeping as nearly as I could in the middle of the road, lest,
blinded by the snow which was frequently borne into my eyes by the wind,
I might fall into the dyke, when all at once I heard a shout to windward,
and turning my eyes I saw the figure of a man, and what appeared to be an
animal of some kind, coming across the bog with great speed, in the
direction of myself; the nature of the ground seemed to offer but little
impediment to these beings, both clearing the holes and abysses which lay
in their way with surprising agility; the animal was, however, some
slight way in advance, and, bounding over the dyke, appeared on the road
just before me. It was a dog, of what species I cannot tell, never
having seen the like before or since; the head was large and round; the
ears so tiny as scarcely to be discernible; the eyes of a fiery red: in
size it was rather small than large; and the coat, which was remarkably
smooth, as white as the falling flakes. It placed itself directly in my
path, and showing its teeth, and bristling its coat, appeared determined
to prevent my progress. I had an ashen stick in my hand, with which I
threatened it; this, however, only served to increase its fury; it rushed
upon me, and I had the utmost difficulty to preserve myself from its
fangs.

"What are you doing with the dog, the fairy dog?" said a man, who at this
time likewise cleared the dyke at a bound.

He was a very tall man, rather well dressed as it should seem; his
garments, however, were like my own, so covered with snow that I could
scarcely discern their quality.

"What are ye doing with the dog of peace?"

"I wish he would show himself one," said I; "I said nothing to him, but
he placed himself in my road, and would not let me pass."

"Of course he would not be letting you till he knew where ye were going."

"He's not much of a fairy," said I, "or he would know that without
asking; tell him that I am going to see my brother."

"And who is your brother, little Sas?"

"What my father is, a royal soldier."

"Oh, ye are going then to the detachment at ---; by my shoul, I have a
good mind to be spoiling your journey."

"You are doing that already," said I, "keeping me here talking about dogs
and fairies; you had better go home and get some salve to cure that place
over your eye; it's catching cold you'll be, in so much snow."

On one side of the man's forehead there was a raw and staring wound, as
if from a recent and terrible blow.

"Faith, then I'll be going, but it's taking you wid me I will be."

"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 Sassanach," 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
snow-flakes.

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 guard-room; 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 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?' says 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."