Barry Lyndon - 04

‘If ever I meet him again,’ I roared out with an oath, ‘you shall see which is the best man of the two. I’ll fight him with sword or with pistol, captain as he is. A man indeed! I’ll fight any man—every man! Didn’t I stand up to Mick Brady when I was eleven years old?—Didn’t I beat Tom Sullivan, the great hulking brute, who is nineteen?—Didn’t I do for the Scotch usher? O Nora, it’s cruel of you to sneer at me so!’

But Nora was in the sneering mood that night, and pursued her sarcasms; she pointed out that Captain Quin was already known as a valiant soldier, famous as a man of fashion in London, and that it was mighty well of Redmond to talk and boast of beating ushers and farmers’ boys, but to fight an Englishman was a very different matter.

Then she fell to talk of the invasion, and of military matters in general; of King Frederick (who was called, in those days, the Protestant hero), of Monsieur Thurot and his fleet, of Monsieur Conflans and his squadron, of Minorca, how it was attacked, and where it was; we both agreed it must be in America, and hoped the French might be soundly beaten there.

I sighed after a while (for I was beginning to melt), and said how much I longed to be a soldier; on which Nora recurred to her infallible ‘Ah! now, would you leave me, then? But, sure, you’re not big enough for anything more than a little drummer.’ To which I replied, by swearing that a soldier I would be, and a general too.

As we were chattering in this silly way, we came to a place that has ever since gone by the name of Redmond’s Leap Bridge. It was an old high bridge, over a stream sufficiently deep and rocky, and as the mare Daisy with her double load was crossing this bridge, Miss Nora, giving a loose to her imagination, and still harping on the military theme (I would lay a wager that she was thinking of Captain Quin)—Miss Nora said, ‘Suppose now, Redmond, you, who are such a hero, was passing over the bridge, and the inimy on the other side?’

‘I’d draw my sword, and cut my way through them.’

‘What, with me on the pillion? Would you kill poor me?’ (This young lady was perpetually speaking of ‘poor me!’)

‘Well, then, I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d jump Daisy into the river, and swim you both across, where no enemy could follow us.’

‘Jump twenty feet! you wouldn’t dare to do any such thing on Daisy. There’s the Captain’s horse, Black George, I’ve heard say that Captain Qui—’

She never finished the word, for, maddened by the continual recurrence of that odious monosyllable, I shouted to her to ‘hold tight by my waist,’ and, giving Daisy the spur, in a minute sprang with Nora over the parapet into the deep water below. I don’t know why, now—whether it was I wanted to drown myself and Nora, or to perform an act that even Captain Quin should crane at, or whether I fancied that the enemy actually was in front of us, I can’t tell now; but over I went. The horse sank over his head, the girl screamed as she sank and screamed as she rose, and I landed her, half fainting, on the shore, where we were soon found by my uncle’s people, who returned on hearing the screams. I went home, and was ill speedily of a fever, which kept me to my bed for six weeks; and I quitted my couch prodigiously increased in stature, and, at the same time, still more violently in love than I had been even before. At the commencement of my illness, Miss Nora had been pretty constant in her attendance at my bedside, forgetting, for the sake of me, the quarrel between my mother and her family; which my good mother was likewise pleased, in the most Christian manner, to forget. And, let me tell you, it was no small mark of goodness in a woman of her haughty disposition, who, as a rule, never forgave anybody, for my sake to give up her hostility to Miss Brady, and to receive her kindly. For, like a mad boy as I was, it was Nora I was always raving about and asking for; I would only accept medicines from her hand, and would look rudely and sulkily upon the good mother, who loved me better than anything else in the world, and gave up even her favourite habits, and proper and becoming jealousies, to make me happy.

As I got well, I saw that Nora’s visits became daily more rare: ‘Why don’t she come?’ I would say, peevishly, a dozen times in the day; in reply to which query, Mrs. Barry would be obliged to make the best excuses she could find,—such as that Nora had sprained her ankle, or that they had quarrelled together, or some other answer to soothe me. And many a time has the good soul left me to go and break her heart in her own room alone, and come back with a smiling face, so that I should know nothing of her mortification. Nor, indeed, did I take much pains to ascertain it: nor should I, I fear, have been very much touched even had I discovered it; for the commencement of manhood, I think, is the period of our extremest selfishness. We get such a desire then to take wing and leave the parent nest, that no tears, entreaties, or feelings of affection will counter-balance this overpowering longing after independence. She must have been very sad, that poor mother of mine—Heaven be good to her!—at that period of my life; and has often told me since what a pang of the heart it was to her to see all her care and affection of years forgotten by me in a minute, and for the sake of a little heartless jilt, who was only playing with me while she could get no better suitor. For the fact is, that during the last four weeks of my illness, no other than Captain Quin was staying at Castle Brady, and making love to Miss Nora in form. My mother did not dare to break this news to me, and you may be sure that Nora herself kept it a secret: it was only by chance that I discovered it.

Shall I tell you how? The minx had been to see me one day, as I sat up in my bed, convalescent; she was in such high spirits, and so gracious and kind to me, that my heart poured over with joy and gladness, and I had even for my poor mother a kind word and a kiss that morning. I felt myself so well that I ate up a whole chicken, and promised my uncle, who had come to see me, to be ready against partridge-shooting, to accompany him, as my custom was.

The next day but one was a Sunday, and I had a project for that day which I determined to realise, in spite of all the doctor’s and my mother’s injunctions: which were that I was on no account to leave the house, for the fresh air would be the death of me.

Well, I lay wondrous quiet, composing a copy of verses, the first I ever made in my life; and I give them here, spelt as I spelt them in those days when I knew no better. And though they are not so polished and elegant as ‘Ardelia ease a Love-sick Swain,’ and ‘When Sol bedecks the Daisied Mead,’ and other lyrical effusions of mine which obtained me so much reputation in after life, I still think them pretty good for a humble lad of fifteen:—

THE ROSE OF FLORA.

Sent by a Young Gentleman of Quality to Miss Brady, of Castle Brady.

On Brady’s tower there grows a flower, It is the loveliest flower that blows,— At Castle Brady there lives a lady (And how I love her no one knows): Her name is Nora, and the goddess Flora Presents her with this blooming rose. ‘O Lady Nora,’ says the goddess Flora, ‘I’ve many a rich and bright parterre; In Brady’s towers there’s seven more flowers, But you’re the fairest lady there: Not all the county, nor Ireland’s bounty, Can projuice a treasure that’s half so fair! What cheek is redder? sure roses fed her! Her hair is maregolds, and her eye of blew Beneath her eyelid is like the vi’let, That darkly glistens with gentle jew? The lily’s nature is not surely whiter Than Nora’s neck is,—and her arrums too. ‘Come, gentle Nora,’ says the goddess Flora, ‘My dearest creature, take my advice, There is a poet, full well you know it, Who spends his lifetime in heavy sighs,— Young Redmond Barry, ‘tis him you’ll marry, If rhyme and raisin you’d choose likewise.’

On Sunday, no sooner was my mother gone to church, than I summoned Phil the valet, and insisted upon his producing my best suit, in which I arrayed myself (although I found that I had shot up so in my illness that the old dress was wofully too small for me), and, with my notable copy of verses in my hand, ran down towards Castle Brady, bent upon beholding my beauty. The air was so fresh and bright, and the birds sang so loud amidst the green trees, that I felt more elated than I had been for months before, and sprang down the avenue (my uncle had cut down every stick of the trees, by the way) as brisk as a young fawn. My heart began to thump as I mounted the grass-grown steps of the terrace, and passed in by the rickety hall-door. The master and mistress were at church, Mr. Screw the butler told me (after giving a start back at seeing my altered appearance, and gaunt lean figure), and so were six of the young ladies.

‘Was Miss Nora one?’ I asked.

‘No, Miss Nora was not one,’ said Mr. Screw, assuming a very puzzled, and yet knowing look.

‘Where was she?’ To this question he answered, or rather made believe to answer, with usual Irish ingenuity, and left me to settle whether she was gone to Kilwangan on the pillion behind her brother, or whether she and her sister had gone for a walk, or whether she was ill in her room; and while I was settling this query, Mr. Screw left me abruptly.

I rushed away to the back court, where the Castle Brady stables stand, and there I found a dragoon whistling the ‘Roast Beef of Old England,’ as he cleaned down a cavalry horse. ‘Whose horse, fellow, is that?’ cried I.

‘Feller, indeed!’ replied the Englishman: ‘the horse belongs to my captain, and he’s a better FELLER nor you any day.’

I did not stop to break his bones, as I would on another occasion, for a horrible suspicion had come across me, and I made for the garden as quickly as I could.

I knew somehow what I should see there. I saw Captain Quin and Nora pacing the alley together. Her arm was under his, and the scoundrel was fondling and squeezing the hand which lay closely nestling against his odious waistcoat. Some distance beyond them was Captain Fagan of the Kilwangan regiment, who was paying court to Nora’s sister Mysie.

I am not afraid of any man or ghost; but as I saw that sight my knees fell a-trembling violently under me, and such a sickness came over me, that I was fain to sink down on the grass by a tree against which I leaned, and lost almost all consciousness for a minute or two: then I gathered myself up, and, advancing towards the couple on the walk, loosened the blade of the little silver-hilted hanger I always wore in its scabbard; for I was resolved to pass it through the bodies of the delinquents, and spit them like two pigeons. I don’t tell what feelings else besides those of rage were passing through my mind; what bitter blank disappointment, what mad wild despair, what a sensation as if the whole world was tumbling from under me; I make no doubt that my reader hath been jilted by the ladies many times, and so bid him recall his own sensations when the shock first fell upon him.

‘No, Norelia,’ said the Captain (for it was the fashion of those times for lovers to call themselves by the most romantic names out of novels), ‘except for you and four others, I vow before all the gods, my heart has never felt the soft flame!’

‘Ah! you men, you men, Eugenio!’ said she (the beast’s name was John), ‘your passion is not equal to ours. We are like—like some plant I’ve read of—we bear but one flower and then we die!’

‘Do you mean you never felt an inclination for another?’ said Captain Quin.

‘Never, my Eugenio, but for thee! How can you ask a blushing nymph such a question?’

‘Darling Norelia!’ said he, raising her hand to his lips.

I had a knot of cherry-coloured ribands, which she had given me out of her breast, and which somehow I always wore upon me. I pulled these out of my bosom, and flung them in Captain Quin’s face, and rushed out with my little sword drawn, shrieking, ‘She’s a liar—she’s a liar, Captain Quin! Draw, sir, and defend yourself, if you are a man!’ and with these words I leapt at the monster, and collared him, while Nora made the air echo with her screams; at the sound of which the other captain and Mysie hastened up.

Although I sprang up like a weed in my illness, and was now nearly attained to my full growth of six feet, yet I was but a lath by the side of the enormous English captain, who had calves and shoulders such as no chairman at Bath ever boasted. He turned very red, and then exceedingly pale at my attack upon him, and slipped back and clutched at his sword—when Nora, in an agony of terror, flung herself round him, screaming, ‘Eugenio! Captain Quin, for Heaven’s sake spare the child—he is but an infant.’

‘And ought to be whipped for his impudence,’ said the Captain; ‘but never fear, Miss Brady, I shall not touch him; your FAVOURITE is safe from me.’ So saying, he stooped down and picked up the bunch of ribands which had fallen at Nora’s feet, and handing it to her, said in a sarcastic tone, ‘When ladies make presents to gentlemen, it is time for OTHER gentlemen to retire.’

‘Good heavens, Quin!’ cried the girl; ‘he is but a boy.’

‘I am a man,’ roared I, ‘and will prove it.’

‘And don’t signify any more than my parrot or lap-dog. Mayn’t I give a bit of riband to my own cousin?’

‘You are perfectly welcome, miss,’ continued the Captain, ‘as many yards as you like.’

‘Monster!’ exclaimed the dear girl; ‘your father was a tailor, and you are always thinking of the shop. But I’ll have my revenge, I will! Reddy, will you see me insulted?’

‘Indeed, Miss Nora,’ says I, ‘I intend to have his blood as sure as my name’s Redmond.’

‘I’ll send for the usher to cane you, little boy,’ said the Captain, regaining his self-possession; ‘but as for you, miss, I have the honour to wish you a good-day.’

He took off his hat with much ceremony, made a low CONGE, and was just walking off, when Mick, my cousin, came up, whose ear had likewise been caught by the scream.

‘Hoity-toity! Jack Quin, what’s the matter here?’ says Mick; ‘Nora in tears, Redmond’s ghost here with his sword drawn, and you making a bow?’

‘I’ll tell you what it is, Mr. Brady,’ said the Englishman: ‘I have had enough of Miss Nora, here, and your Irish ways. I ain’t used to ‘em, sir.’

‘Well, well! what is it?’ said Mick good-humouredly (for he owed Quin a great deal of money as it turned out); ‘we’ll make you used to our ways, or adopt English ones.’

‘It’s not the English way for ladies to have two lovers’ (the ‘Henglish way,’ as the captain called it), ‘and so, Mr. Brady, I’ll thank you to pay me the sum you owe me, and I’ll resign all claims to this young lady. If she has a fancy for schoolboys, let her take ‘em, sir.’

‘Pooh, pooh! Quin, you are joking,’ said Mick.

‘I never was more in earnest,’ replied the other.

‘By Heaven, then, look to yourself!’ shouted Mick. ‘Infamous seducer! infernal deceiver!—you come and wind your toils round this suffering angel here—you win her heart and leave her—and fancy her brother won’t defend her? Draw this minute, you slave! and let me cut the wicked heart out of your body!’

‘This is regular assassination,’ said Quin, starting back; ‘there’s two on ‘em on me at once. Fagan, you won’t let ‘em murder me?’

‘Faith!’ said Captain Fagan, who seemed mightily amused, ‘you may settle your own quarrel, Captain Quin;’ and coming over to me, whispered, ‘At him again, you little fellow.’

‘As long as Mr. Quin withdraws his claim,’ said I, ‘I, of course, do not interfere.’

‘I do, sir—I do,’ said Mr. Quin, more and more flustered.

‘Then defend yourself like a man, curse you!’ cried Mick again. ‘Mysie, lead this poor victim away—Redmond and Fagan will see fair play between us.’

‘Well now—I don’t—give me time—I’m puzzled—I—I don’t know which way to look.’

‘Like the donkey betwixt the two bundles of hay,’ said Mr. Fagan drily, ‘and there’s pretty pickings on either side.’

CHAPTER II. I SHOW MYSELF TO BE A MAN OF SPIRIT

During this dispute, my cousin Nora did the only thing that a lady, under such circumstances, could do, and fainted in due form. I was in hot altercation with Mick at the time, or I should have, of course, flown to her assistance, but Captain Fagan (a dry sort of fellow this Fagan was) prevented me, saying, ‘I advise you to leave the young lady to herself, Master Redmond, and be sure she will come to.’ And so indeed, after a while, she did, which has shown me since that Fagan knew the world pretty well, for many’s the lady I’ve seen in after times recover in a similar manner. Quin did not offer to help her, you may be sure, for, in the midst of the diversion, caused by her screaming, the faithless bully stole away.

‘Which of us is Captain Quin to engage?’ said I to Mick; for it was my first affair, and I was as proud of it as of a suit of laced velvet. ‘Is it you or I, Cousin Mick, that is to have the honour of chastising this insolent Englishman?’ And I held out my hand as I spoke, for my heart melted towards my cousin under the triumph of the moment.

But he rejected the proffered offer of friendship. ‘You—you!’ said he, in a towering passion; ‘hang you for a meddling brat: your hand is in everybody’s pie. What business had you to come brawling and quarrelling here, with a gentleman who has fifteen hundred a year?’

‘Oh,’ gasped Nora, from the stone bench, ‘I shall die: I know I shall. I shall never leave this spot.’

‘The Captain’s not gone yet,’ whispered Fagan; on which Nora, giving him an indignant look, jumped up and walked towards the house.

‘Meanwhile,’ Mick continued, ‘what business have you, you meddling rascal, to interfere with a daughter of this house?’