Few men will deny in the abstract the cruelty of many field-sports theypersist in following; fewer still abandon them on such scruples; andwhile Forester felt half ashamed to himself of the functions committedto him, he would have been sorely disappointed if he had been passedover in the selection of his relative's political adherents.
Of this nature were some of Dick Forester's reflections as he postedalong towards the West; nor was the scene through which he journeyedsuggestive of pleasanter thoughts. If any of our readers shouldperchance be acquainted with that dreary line of country which liesalong the great western road of Ireland, they will not feel surprisedif the traveller's impressions of the land were not of the brightest orfairest. The least reflective of mortals cannot pass through a drearyand poverty-stricken district without imbibing some of the melancholywhich broods over the place. Forester was by no means such, and feltdeeply and sincerely for the misery he witnessed on every hand, and wasin the very crisis of some most patriotic scheme of benevolence, whenhis carriage arrived in front of the little inn of Kilbeggan. Resisting,without much violence to his inclinations, the civil request of thelandlord to alight, he leaned back to resume the broken thread of hislucubrations, while fresh horses were put to. How long he thus waited,or what progress his benign devices accomplished in the mean while, thistrue history is unable to record; enough if we say that when he nextbecame aware of the incidents then actually happening around him, hediscovered that his carriage was standing fast in the same place as atthe moment of his arrival, and the rain falling in torrents, as before.
To let down the glass and call out to the postilions was a very naturalact; to do so with the addition of certain expletives not commonly usedin good society, was not an extraordinary one. Forester did both; but hemight have spared his eloquence and his indignation, for the postilionswere both in the stable, and his servant agreeably occupied in the barover the comforts of a smoking tumbler of punch. The merciful schemes solate the uppermost object of his thoughts were routed in a moment, and,vowing intentions of a very different purport to the whole household,he opened the door and sprang out. Dark as the night was, he could seethat there were no horses to the carriage, and, with redoubled anger atthe delay, he strode into the inn.
"Holloa, I say--house here! Linwood! Where the devil is the fellow?"
"Here, sir," cried a smart-looking London servant, as he sprang fromthe bar with his eyes bolting out of his head from the heat of the lastmouthful, swallowed in a second. "I've been a trying for horses, sir;but they've never got 'em, though they 've been promising to let us havea pair this half-hour."
"No horses! Do you mean that they've not got a pair of posters in a townlike this?"
"Yes, indeed, sir," interposed a dirty waiter in a nankeen jacket;for the landlord was too indignant at the rejection of his proposal toappear again, "we've four pair, besides a mare in foal; but there's adeal of business on the line this week past, and there's a gentleman inthe parlor now has taken four of them."
"Taken four! Has he more than one carriage?"
"No, sir, a light chariot it is; but he likes to go fast."
"And so do I--when I can," muttered Forester, the last words being anaddition almost independent of him. "Could n't you tell him that there'sa gentleman here very much pressed to push on, and would take it as agreat favor if he'd divide the team?"
"To be sure, sir, I'll go and speak to him," said the waiter, as hehurried away on the errand.
"I see how it is, sir," said Linwood, who, with true servant dexterity,thought to turn his master's anger into any other channel than towardshimself, "they wants to get you to stop the night here."
"Confound this trickery! I'll pay what they please for the horses, onlylet us have them.--Well, waiter, what does he say?"
"He says, sir," said the waiter, endeavoring to suppress a laugh, "ifyou 'll come in and join him at supper, you shall have whatever youlike."
"Join him at supper! No, no; I'm hurried, I'm anxious to get forward,and not the least hungry besides."
"Hadn't you better speak a word to him, anyhow?" said the waiter,half opening the parlor door. And Forester, accepting the suggestion,entered.
041]
In the little low-ceilinged apartment of the small inn, at a tablevery amply and as temptingly covered, sat a large and, for his age,singularly handsome man. A forehead both high and broad surmountedtwo clear blue eyes, whose brilliancy seemed to defy the wear of time;regular and handsome teeth; and a complexion the very type ofhealth appeared to vouch for a strength of constitution rare at hisadvanced age. His dress was the green coat so commonly worn by countrygentlemen, with leather breeches and boots, nor, though the season waswinter, did he appear to have any great-coat, or other defence againstthe weather. He was heaping some turf upon the fire as Forester entered,and, laughingly interrupting the operation, he stood up and bowedcourteously.
"I have taken a great liberty, sir, first, to suppose that any man atthis hour of the night is not the worse for something to eat and drink;and, secondly, that he might have no objection to partake of either inmy company." Forester was not exactly prepared for a manner so palpablythat of the best society, and, at once repressing every sign of hisformer impatience, replied by apologizing for a request which mightinconvenience the granter. "Let me help you to this grouse-pie, andfill yourself a glass of sherry; and by the time you have taken somerefreshment, the horses will be put to. I am most happy to offer you aseat."
"I am afraid there is a mistake somewhere," said Forester, half timidly."I heard you had engaged the only four horses here, and as my carriageis without, my request was to obtain two if you--"
"But why not come with me? I 'm pressed, and must be up, if possible,before morning. Remember, we are forty-eight miles from Dublin."
"Dublin! But I'm going the very opposite road. I'm for Westport."
"Oh, by Jove! that is different. What a stupid fellow the waiter is!Never mind; sit down. Let us have a glass of wine together. You shallhave two of the horses. Old Wilkins must only make his spurs supply theplace of the leaders."
There was a hearty good-nature in every accent of the old man's voice,and Forester drew his chair to the table, by no means sorry to spendsome time longer in his company.
There is a kind of conversation sacred to the occupations of thetable,--a mixture of the culinary and the social, the gustatory withthe agreeable. And the stranger led the way to this, with the art ofan accomplished proficient, and while recommending the good things toForester's attention, contrived to season their enjoyment by a tone atonce pleasing and cordial.
"I could have sworn you were hungry," said he, laughing, as Foresterhelped himself for the second time to the grouse-pie. "I know you didnot expect so appetizing a supper in such a place; but Rickards hasalways something in the larder for an old acquaintance, and I have beentravelling this road close upon sixty years now."
"And a dreary way it is," said Forester, "except for this most agreeableincident. I never came so many miles before with so little to interestme."
"Very true; it is a flat, monotonous-looking country, and poor besides;but nothing like what I remember it as a boy."
"You surely do not mean that the people were ever worse off than theyseem now to be?"
"Ay, a hundred times worse off. They may be rack-rented and over-taxedin some instances now,--not as many as you would suppose, afterall,--but then, they were held in actual slavery, nearly famished,and all but naked; no roads, no markets; subject to the caprice of thelandowners on every occasion in life, and the faction fights--thosebarbarous vestiges of a rude time--kept up and encouraged by those whoshould have set the better example of mutual charity and good feeling.These unhappy practices have not disappeared, but they are far lessfrequent than formerly; and however the confession may seem to you a sadone, to me there is a pride in saying, Ireland is improving."
"It is hard to conceive a people more miserably off than these," saidForester, with a sigh.
"So
they seem to your eyes; but let me remark that there is a transitionstate between rude barbarism and civilization which always appearsmore miserable than either; habits of life which suggest wants thatcan rarely, if ever, be supplied. The struggle between poverty andthe desire for better, is a bitter conflict, and such is the actualcondition of this people. You are young enough to witness the fruitsof the reformation; I am too old ever to hope to see them, but I feelassured that the day is coming."
"I like your theory well; it has Hope for its ally," said Forester, ashe gazed on the benevolent features of the old squire.
"It has even better, sir, it has truth; and hence it is that thepeasantry, as they approach nearer to the capital,--the seat ofcivilization,--have fewest of those traits that please or attractstrangers; they are in the transition state I speak of; while down in_my_ wild country, you can see them in their native freshness, recklessand improvident, but light-hearted and happy."
"Where may the country be you speak of, sir?" said Forester.
"The Far West, beside the Atlantic. You have heard of Mayo?"
"Oh, that is my destination at this moment; I am going beyond Westport,to visit one of the chieftains there. I have not the honor to know him,but I conclude that his style of living and habits will not be a badspecimen of the gentry customs generally."
"I know that neighborhood tolerably well. May I ask the name of yourfuture host?"
"The Knight of Gwynne is his title--Mr. Darcy--"
"Oh! an old acquaintance,--I may almost say an old friend of mine," saidthe other, smiling. "And so you are going to pass some time at Gywnne?"
"A week or so; I scarcely think I can spare more."
"They 'll call that a very inhospitable visit at Gwynne, sir; theKnight's guests rarely stay less than a month. I have just left it,and there were some there who had been since the beginning of thepartridge-shooting, and not the least welcome of the party."
"I am sorry I had not the good fortune to meet you there," saidForester.
"Make your visit a fortnight, and I 'll join you, then," said theold man, gayly. "I 'm going up to town to settle a wager,--a foolishexcursion, you 'll say, at my time of life; but it's too late to mend."
"The horses is put to, sir," said the waiter, announcing the fact forsomething like the fourth time, without being attended to.
"Well, then, it is time to start. Am I to take it as a pledge that Ishall find you at Gwynne this day fortnight?"
"I cannot answer for my host," said Forester, laughing.
"Oh! old Darcy is sure to ask you to stay. By the way, would you permitme to trouble you with five lines to a friend who is now stoppingthere?"
"Of course; I shall be but too happy to be of any service to you."
The old gentleman sat down, and, tearing a leaf from a capaciouspocket-book, wrote a few hurried lines, which, having folded and sealed,he addressed, "Bagenal Daly, Esquire, Gwynne Abbey."
"There, that's my commission; pray add my service to the Knight himself,when you see him."
"Permit me to ask, how shall I designate his friend?"
"Oh! I forgot, you don't know me," said he, laughing. "I have half amind to leave the identification with your own descriptive powers."
"I'd wager five guineas I could make the portrait a resemblance."
"Done, then; I take the bet," said the other; "and I promise you, on theword of a gentleman, I am known to every visitor in the house."
Each laughed heartily at the drollery of such a wager, and, with many aprofession of the pleasure a future meeting would afford to both, theyparted, less like casual acquaintances than as old and intimate friends.
The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 1 (of 2) Page 4