Barry Lyndon - 06

‘Look at that sword, sir,’ says I, pointing to an elegant silver-mounted one, in a white shagreen case, that hung on the mantelpiece, under the picture of my father, Harry Barry. ‘It was with that sword, sir, that my father pinked Mohawk O’Driscol, in Dublin, in the year 1740; with that sword, sir, he met Sir Huddlestone Fuddlestone, the Hampshire baronet, and ran him through the neck. They met on horseback, with sword and pistol, on Hounslow Heath, as I dare say you have heard tell of, and those are the pistols’ (they hung on each side of the picture) ‘which the gallant Barry used. He was quite in the wrong, having insulted Lady Fuddlestone, when in liquor, at the Brentford assembly. But, like a gentleman, he scorned to apologise, and Sir Huddlestone received a ball through his hat, before they engaged with the sword. I am Harry Barry’s son, sir, and will act as becomes my name and my quality.’

‘Give me a kiss, my dear boy,’ said Fagan, with tears in his eyes. ‘You’re after my own soul. As long as Jack Fagan lives you shall never want a friend or a second.’

Poor fellow! he was shot six months afterwards, carrying orders to my Lord George Sackville, at Minden, and I lost thereby a kind friend. But we don’t know what is in store for us, and that night was a merry one at least. We had a second bottle, and a third too (I could hear the poor mother going downstairs for each, but she never came into the parlour with them, and sent them in by the butler, Mr. Tim): and we parted at length, he engaging to arrange matters with Mr. Quin’s second that night, and to bring me news in the morning as to the place where the meeting should take place. I have often thought since, how different my fate might have been, had I not fallen in love with Nora at that early age; and had I not flung the wine in Quin’s face, and so brought on the duel. I might have settled down in Ireland but for that (for Miss Quinlan was an heiress, within twenty miles of us, and Peter Burke, of Kilwangan, left his daughter Judy L700 a year, and I might have had either of them, had I waited a few years). But it was in my fate to be a wanderer, and that battle with Quin sent me on my travels at a very early age: as you shall hear anon.

I never slept sounder in my life, though I woke a little earlier than usual; and you may be sure my first thought was of the event of the day, for which I was fully prepared. I had ink and pen in my room—had I not been writing those verses to Nora but the day previous, like a poor fond fool as I was? And now I sat down and wrote a couple of letters more: they might be the last, thought I, that I ever should write in my life. The first was to my mother:—

‘Honoured Madam’—I wrote—‘This will not be given you unless I fall by the hand of Captain Quin, whom I meet this day in the field of honour, with sword and pistol. If I die, it is as a good Christian and a gentleman,—how should I be otherwise when educated by such a mother as you? I forgive all my enemies—I beg your blessing as a dutiful son. I desire that my mare Nora, which my uncle gave me, and which I called after the most faithless of her sex, may be returned to Castle Brady, and beg you will give my silver-hiked hanger to Phil Purcell, the gamekeeper. Present my duty to my uncle and Ulick, and all the girls of MY party there. And I remain your dutiful son,

‘REDMOND BARRY.’

To Nora I wrote:—

‘This letter will be found in my bosom along with the token you gave me. It will be dyed in my blood (unless I have Captain Quin’s, whom I hate, but forgive), and will be a pretty ornament for you on your marriage-day. Wear it, and think of the poor boy to whom you gave it, and who died (as he was always ready to do) for your sake.

‘REDMOND.’

These letters being written, and sealed with my father’s great silver seal of the Barry arms, I went down to breakfast; where my mother was waiting for me, you may be sure. We did not say a single word about what was taking place: on the contrary, we talked of anything but that; about who was at church the day before, and about my wanting new clothes now I was grown so tall. She said I must have a suit against winter, if—if—she could afford it. She winced rather at the ‘if,’ Heaven bless her! I knew what was in her mind. And then she fell to telling me about the black pig that must be killed, and that she had found the speckled hen’s nest that morning, whose eggs I liked so, and other such trifling talk. Some of these eggs were for breakfast, and I ate them with a good appetite; but in helping myself to salt I spilled it, on which she started up with a scream. ‘THANK GOD,’ said she, ‘IT’S FALLEN TOWARDS ME.’ And then, her heart being too full, she left the room. Ah! they have their faults, those mothers; but are there any other women like them?

When she was gone I went to take down the sword with which my father had vanquished the Hampshire baronet, and, would you believe it?—the brave woman had tied A NEW RIBAND to the hilt: for indeed she had the courage of a lioness and a Brady united. And then I took down the pistols, which were always kept bright and well oiled, and put some fresh flints I had into the locks, and got balls and powder ready against the Captain should come. There was claret and a cold fowl put ready for him on the sideboard, and a case-bottle of old brandy too, with a couple of little glasses on the silver tray with the Barry arms emblazoned. In after life, and in the midst of my fortune and splendour, I paid thirty-five guineas, and almost as much more interest, to the London goldsmith who supplied my father with that very tray. A scoundrel pawnbroker would only give me sixteen for it afterwards; so little can we trust the honour of rascally tradesmen!

At eleven o’clock Captain Fagan arrived, on horseback, with a mounted dragoon after him. He paid his compliments to the collation which my mother’s care had provided for him, and then said, ‘Look ye, Redmond my boy; this is a silly business. The girl will marry Quin, mark my words; and as sure as she does you’ll forget her. You are but a boy. Quin is willing to consider you as such. Dublin’s a fine place, and if you have a mind to take a ride thither and see the town for a month, here are twenty guineas at your service. Make Quin an apology, and be off.’

‘A man of honour, Mr. Fagan,’ says I, ‘dies, but never apologises. I’ll see the Captain hanged before I apologise.’

‘Then there’s nothing for it but a meeting.’

‘My mare is saddled and ready,’ says I; ‘where’s the meeting, and who’s the Captain’s second?’

‘Your cousins go out with him,’ answered Mr. Fagan.

‘I’ll ring for my groom to bring my mare round,’ I said, ‘as soon as you have rested yourself.’ Tim was accordingly despatched for Nora, and I rode away, but I didn’t take leave of Mrs. Barry. The curtains of her bedroom windows were down, and they didn’t move as we mounted and trotted off... BUT TWO HOURS AFTERWARDS, you should have seen her as she came tottering downstairs, and heard the scream which she gave as she hugged her boy to her heart, quite unharmed and without a wound in his body.

What had taken place I may as well tell here. When we got to the ground, Ulick, Mick, and the Captain were already there: Quin, flaming in red regimentals, as big a monster as ever led a grenadier company. The party were laughing together at some joke of one or the other: and I must say I thought this laughter very unbecoming in my cousins, who were met, perhaps, to see the death of one of their kindred.

‘I hope to spoil this sport,’ says I to Captain Fagan, in a great rage, ‘and trust to see this sword of mine in yonder big bully’s body.’

‘Oh! it’s with pistols we fight,’ replied Mr. Fagan. ‘You are no match for Quin with the sword.’

‘I’ll match any man with the sword,’ said I.

‘But swords are to-day impossible; Captain Quin is—is lame. He knocked his knee against the swinging park-gate last night, as he was riding home, and can scarce move it now.’

‘Not against Castle Brady gate,’ says I: ‘that has been off the hinges these ten years.’ On which Fagan said it must have been some other gate, and repeated what he had said to Mr. Quin and my cousins, when, on alighting from our horses, we joined and saluted those gentlemen.

‘Oh yes! dead lame,’ said Ulick, coming to shake me by the hand, while Captain Quin took off his hat and turned extremely red. ‘And very lucky for you, Redmond my boy,’ continued Ulick; ‘you were a dead man else; for he is a devil of a fellow—isn’t he, Fagan?’

‘A regular Turk,’ answered Fagan; adding, ‘I never yet knew the man who stood to Captain Quin.’

‘Hang the business!’ said Ulick; ‘I hate it. I’m ashamed of it. Say you’re sorry, Redmond: you can easily say that.’

‘If the young FELLER will go to DUBLING, as proposed’—here interposed Mr. Quin.

‘I am NOT sorry—I’ll NOT apologise—and I’ll as soon go to DUBLING as to—!’ said I, with a stamp of my foot.

‘There’s nothing else for it,’ said Ulick with a laugh to Fagan. ‘Take your ground, Fagan,—twelve paces, I suppose?’

‘Ten, sir,’ said Mr. Quin, in a big voice; ‘and make them short ones, do you hear, Captain Fagan?’

‘Don’t bully, Mr. Quin,’ said Ulick surlily; ‘here are the pistols.’ And he added, with some emotion, to me, ‘God bless you, my boy; and when I count three, fire.’

Mr. Fagan put my pistol into my hand,—that is, not one of mine (which were to serve, if need were, for the next round), but one of Ulick’s. ‘They are all right,’ said he. ‘Never fear: and, Redmond, fire at his neck—hit him there under the gorget. See how the fool shows himself open.’ Mick, who had never spoken a word, Ulick, and the Captain retired to one side, and Ulick gave the signal. It was slowly given, and I had leisure to cover my man well. I saw him changing colour and trembling as the numbers were given. At ‘three,’ both our pistols went off. I heard something whizz by me, and my antagonist, giving a most horrible groan, staggered backwards and fell.

‘He’s down—he’s down!’ cried the seconds, running towards him. Ulick lifted him up—Mick took his head.

‘He’s hit here, in the neck,’ said Mick; and laying open his coat, blood was seen gurgling from under his gorget, at the very spot at which I aimed.

‘How is it with you?’ said Ulick. ‘Is he really hit?’ said he, looking hard at him. The unfortunate man did not answer, but when the support of Ulick’s arm was withdrawn from his back, groaned once more, and fell backwards.

‘The young fellow has begun well,’ said Mick, with a scowl. ‘You had better ride off, young sir, before the police are up. They had wind of the business before we left Kilwangan.’

‘Is he quite dead?’ said I.

‘Quite dead,’ answered Mick.

‘Then the world’s rid of A COWARD,’ said Captain Fagan, giving the huge prostrate body a scornful kick with his foot. ‘It’s all over with him, Reddy,—he doesn’t stir.’

‘WE are not cowards, Fagan,’ said Ulick roughly, ‘whatever he was! Let’s get the boy off as quick as we may. Your man shall go for a cart, and take away the body of this unhappy gentleman. This has been a sad day’s work for our family, Redmond Barry: you have robbed us of 1500(pounds) a year.’

‘It was Nora did it,’ said I; ‘not I.’ And I took the riband she gave me out of my waistcoat, and the letter, and flung them down on the body of Captain Quin. ‘There!’ says I—‘take her those ribands. She’ll know what they mean: and that’s all that’s left to her of two lovers she had and ruined.’

I did not feel any horror or fear, young as I was, in seeing my enemy prostrate before me; for I knew that I had met and conquered him honourably in the field, as became a man of my name and blood.

‘And now, in Heaven’s name, get the youngster out of the way,’ said Mick.

Ulick said he would ride with me, and off accordingly we galloped, never drawing bridle till we came to my mother’s door. When there, Ulick told Tim to feed my mare, as I would have far to ride that day; and I was in the poor mother’s arms in a minute.

I need not tell how great were her pride and exultation when she heard from Ulick’s lips the account of my behaviour at the duel. He urged, however, that I should go into hiding for a short time; and it was agreed between them that I should drop my name of Barry, and, taking that of Redmond, go to Dublin, and there wait until matters were blown over. This arrangement was not come to without some discussion; for why should I not be as safe at Barryville, she said, as my cousin and Ulick at Castle Brady?—bailiffs and duns never got near THEM; why should constables be enabled to come upon me? But Ulick persisted in the necessity of my instant departure; in which argument, as I was anxious to see the world, I must confess, I sided with him; and my mother was brought to see that in our small house at Barryville, in the midst of the village, and with the guard but of a couple of servants, escape would be impossible. So the kind soul was forced to yield to my cousin’s entreaties, who promised her, however, that the affair would soon be arranged, and that I should be restored to her. Ah! how little did he know what fortune was in store for me!

My dear mother had some forebodings, I think, that our separation was to be a long one; for she told me that all night long she had been consulting the cards regarding my fate in the duel: and that all the signs betokened a separation; then, taking out a stocking from her escritoire, the kind soul put twenty guineas in a purse for me (she had herself but twenty-five), and made up a little valise, to be placed at the back of my       mare, in which were my clothes, linen, and a silver dressing-case of my father’s. She bade me, too, to keep the sword and the pistols I had known to use so like a man. She hurried my departure now (though her heart, I know, was full), and almost in half-an-hour after my arrival at home I was once more on the road again, with the wide world as it were before me. I need not tell how Tim and the cook cried at my departure: and, mayhap, I had a tear or two myself in my eyes; but no lad of sixteen is VERY sad who has liberty for the first time, and twenty guineas in his pocket: and I rode away, thinking, I confess, not so much of the kind mother left alone, and of the home behind me, as of to-morrow, and all the wonders it would bring.

CHAPTER III. A FALSE START IN THE GENTEEL WORLD

I rode that night as far as Carlow, where I lay at the best inn; and being asked what was my name by the landlord of the house, gave it as Mr. Redmond, according to my cousin’s instructions, and said I was of the       Redmonds of Waterford county, and was on my road to Trinity College, Dublin, to be educated there. Seeing my handsome appearance, silver-hiked sword, and well-filled valise, my landlord made free to send up a jug of claret without my asking; and charged, you may be sure, pretty handsomely for it in the bill. No gentleman in those good old days went to bed without a good share of liquor to set him sleeping, and on this my first day’s entrance into the world, I made a point to act the fine gentleman completely; and, I assure you, succeeded in my part to admiration. The excitement of the events of the day, the quitting my home, the meeting with Captain Quin, were enough to set my brains in a whirl, without the claret; which served to finish me completely. I did not dream of the death of Quin, as some milksops, perhaps, would have done; indeed, I have never had any of that foolish remorse consequent upon any of my affairs of honour: always considering, from the first, that where a gentleman risks his own life in manly combat, he is a fool to be ashamed because he wins. I slept at Carlow as sound as man could sleep; drank a tankard of small beer and a toast to my breakfast; and exchanged the first of my gold pieces to settle the bill, not forgetting to pay all the servants liberally, and as a gentleman should. I began so the first day of my life, and so have continued. No man has been at greater straits than I, and has borne more pinching poverty and hardship; but nobody can say of me that, if I had a guinea, I was not free-handed with it, and did not spend it as well as a lord could do.

I had no doubts of the future: thinking that a man of my person, parts, and courage, could make his way anywhere. Besides, I had twenty gold guineas in my pocket; a sum which (although I was mistaken) I calculated would last me for four months at least, during which time something would be done towards the making of my fortune. So I rode on, singing to myself, or chatting with the passers-by; and all the girls along the road said God save me for a clever gentleman! As for Nora and Castle Brady, between to-day and yesterday there seemed to be a gap as of half-a-score of years. I vowed I would never re-enter the place but as a great man; and I kept my vow too, as you shall hear in due time.

There was much more liveliness and bustle on the king’s highroad in those times, than in these days of stage-coaches, which carry you from one end of the kingdom to another in a few score hours. The gentry rode their own horses or drove in their own coaches, and spent three days on a journey which now occupies ten hours; so that there was no lack of company for a person travelling towards Dublin. I made part of the journey from Carlow towards Naas with a well-armed gentleman from Kilkenny, dressed in green and a gold cord, with a patch on his eye, and riding a powerful mare. He asked me the question of the day, and whither I was bound, and whether my mother was not afraid on account of the highwaymen to let one so young as myself to travel? But I said, pulling out one of them from a holster, that I had a pair of good pistols that had already done execution, and were ready to do it again; and here, a pock-marked man coming up, he put spurs into his bay mare and left me. She was a much more powerful animal than mine; and, besides, I did not wish to fatigue my horse, wishing to enter Dublin that night, and in reputable condition.