The Romany Rye

G >> George Borrow >> The Romany Rye

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

"Dear me," said I, interrupting him, "I am not fitted for the place
of ostler--moreover, I refused the place of ostler at a public-
house, which was offered to me only a few days ago." The
postillion burst into a laugh. "Ostler at a public-house, indeed!
why, you would not compare a berth at a place like that with the
situation of ostler at my inn, the first road-house in England!
However, I was not thinking of the place of ostler for you; you
are, as you say, not fitted for it, at any rate, not at a house
like this. We have, moreover, the best under-ostler in all
England--old Bill, with the drawback that he is rather fond of
drink. We could make shift with him very well, provided we could
fall in with a man of writing and figures, who could give an
account of the hay and corn which comes in and goes out, and
wouldn't object to give a look occasionally at the yard. Now it
appears to me that you are just such a kind of man, and, if you
will allow me to speak to the governor, I don't doubt that he will
gladly take you, as he feels kindly disposed towards you from what
he has heard me say concerning you."

"And what should I do with my horse?" said I.

"The horse need give you no uneasiness," said the postillion; "I
know he will be welcome here both for bed and manger, and, perhaps,
in a little time you may find a purchaser, as a vast number of
sporting people frequent this house." I offered two or three more
objections, which the postillion overcame with great force of
argument, and the pot being nearly empty, he drained it to the
bottom drop, and then starting up, left me alone.

In about twenty minutes he returned, accompanied by a highly
intelligent-looking individual, dressed in blue and black, with a
particularly white cravat, and without a hat on his head: this
individual, whom I should have mistaken for a gentleman but for the
intelligence depicted in his face, he introduced to me as the
master of the inn. The master of the inn shook me warmly by the
hand, told me that he was happy to see me in his house, and thanked
me in the handsomest terms for the kindness I had shown to his
servant in the affair of the thunderstorm. Then saying that he was
informed I was out of employ, he assured me that he should be most
happy to engage me to keep his hay and corn account, and as general
superintendent of the yard, and that with respect to the horse,
which he was told I had, he begged to inform me that I was
perfectly at liberty to keep it at the inn upon the very best,
until I could find a purchaser,--that with regard to wages--but he
had no sooner mentioned wages than I cut him short, saying, that
provided I stayed I should be most happy to serve him for bed and
board, and requested that he would allow me until the next morning
to consider of his offer; he willingly consented to my request,
and, begging that I would call for anything I pleased, left me
alone with the postillion.

I passed that night until about ten o'clock with the postillion,
when he left me, having to drive a family about ten miles across
the country; before his departure, however, I told him that I had
determined to accept the offer of his governor, as he called him.
At the bottom of my heart I was most happy that an offer had been
made, which secured to myself and the animal a comfortable retreat
at a moment when I knew not whither in the world to take myself and
him.

CHAPTER XXIV

An Inn of Times gone by--A First-rate Publican--Hay and Corn--Old-
fashioned Ostler--Highwaymen--Mounted Police--Grooming.

The inn, of which I had become an inhabitant, was a place of
infinite life and bustle. Travellers of all descriptions, from all
the cardinal points, were continually stopping at it; and to attend
to their wants, and minister to their convenience, an army of
servants, of one description or other, was kept; waiters,
chambermaids, grooms, postillions, shoe-blacks, cooks, scullions,
and what not, for there was a barber and hair-dresser, who had been
at Paris, and talked French with a cockney accent; the French
sounding all the better, as no accent is so melodious as the
cockney. Jacks creaked in the kitchens turning round spits, on
which large joints of meat piped and smoked before great big fires.
There was running up and down stairs, and along galleries, slamming
of doors, cries of "Coming, sir," and "Please to step this way,
ma'am," during eighteen hours of the four-and-twenty. Truly a very
great place for life and bustle was this inn. And often in after
life, when lonely and melancholy, I have called up the time I spent
there, and never failed to become cheerful from the recollection.

I found the master of the house a very kind and civil person.
Before being an inn-keeper he had been in some other line of
business; but on the death of the former proprietor of the inn had
married his widow, who was still alive, but, being somewhat infirm,
lived in a retired part of the house. I have said that he was kind
and civil; he was, however, not one of those people who suffer
themselves to be made fools of by anybody; he knew his customers,
and had a calm, clear eye, which would look through a man without
seeming to do so. The accommodation of his house was of the very
best description; his wines were good, his viands equally so, and
his charges not immoderate; though he very properly took care of
himself. He was no vulgar inn-keeper, had a host of friends, and
deserved them all. During the time I lived with him, he was
presented by a large assemblage of his friends and customers with a
dinner at his own house, which was very costly, and at which the
best of wines were sported, and after the dinner with a piece of
plate estimated at fifty guineas. He received the plate, made a
neat speech of thanks, and when the bill was called for, made
another neat speech, in which he refused to receive one farthing
for the entertainment, ordering in at the same time two dozen more
of the best champagne, and sitting down amidst uproarious applause,
and cries of "You shall be no loser by it!" Nothing very wonderful
in such conduct, some people will say; I don't say there is, nor
have I any intention to endeavour to persuade the reader that the
landlord was a Carlo Boromeo; he merely gave a quid pro quo; but it
is not every person who will give you a quid pro quo. Had he been
a vulgar publican, he would have sent in a swinging bill after
receiving the plate; "but then no vulgar publican would have been
presented with plate;" perhaps not, but many a vulgar public
character has been presented with plate, whose admirers never
received a quid pro quo, except in the shape of a swinging bill.

I found my duties of distributing hay and corn, and keeping an
account thereof, anything but disagreeable, particularly after I
had acquired the good-will of the old ostler, who at first looked
upon me with rather an evil eye, considering me somewhat in the
light of one who had usurped an office which belonged to himself by
the right of succession; but there was little gall in the old
fellow, and, by speaking kindly to him, never giving myself any
airs of assumption; but, above all, by frequently reading the
newspapers to him--for though passionately fond of news and
politics, he was unable to read--I soon succeeded in placing myself
on excellent terms with him. A regular character was that old
ostler; he was a Yorkshireman by birth, but had seen a great deal
of life in the vicinity of London, to which, on the death of his
parents, who were very poor people, he went at a very early age.
Amongst other places where he had served as ostler was a small inn
at Hounslow, much frequented by highwaymen, whose exploits he was
fond of narrating, especially those of Jerry Abershaw, who, he
said, was a capital rider; and on hearing his accounts of that
worthy, I half regretted that the old fellow had not been in
London, and I had not formed his acquaintance about the time I was
thinking of writing the life of the said Abershaw, not doubting
that with his assistance, I could have produced a book at least as
remarkable as the life and adventures of that entirely imaginary
personage Joseph Sell; perhaps, however, I was mistaken; and
whenever Abershaw's life shall appear before the public--and my
publisher credibly informs me that it has not yet appeared--I beg
and entreat the public to state which it likes best, the life of
Abershaw, or that of Sell, for which latter work I am informed that
during the last few months there has been a prodigious demand. My
old friend, however, after talking of Abershaw, would frequently
add, that, good rider as Abershaw certainly was, he was decidedly
inferior to Richard Ferguson, generally called Galloping Dick, who
was a pal of Abershaw's, and had enjoyed a career as long, and
nearly as remarkable as his own. I learned from him that both were
capital customers at the Hounslow inn, and that he had frequently
drank with them in the corn-room. He said that no man could desire
more jolly or entertaining companions over a glass of "summut;" but
that upon the road it was anything but desirable to meet them;
there they were terrible, cursing and swearing, and thrusting the
muzzles of their pistols into people's mouths; and at this part of
his locution the old man winked, and said, in a somewhat lower
voice, that upon the whole they were right in doing so, and that
when a person had once made up his mind to become a highwayman, his
best policy was to go the whole hog, fearing nothing, but making
everybody afraid of him; that people never thought of resisting a
savage-faced, foul-mouthed highwayman, and if he were taken, were
afraid to bear witness against him, lest he should get off and cut
their throats some time or other upon the roads; whereas people
would resist being robbed by a sneaking, pale-visaged rascal, and
would swear bodily against him on the first opportunity,--adding,
that Abershaw and Ferguson, two most awful fellows, had enjoyed a
long career, whereas two disbanded officers of the army, who wished
to rob a coach like gentlemen, had begged the passengers' pardon,
and talked of hard necessity, had been set upon by the passengers
themselves, amongst whom were three women, pulled from their
horses, conducted to Maidstone, and hanged with as little pity as
such contemptible fellows deserved. "There is nothing like going
the whole hog," he repeated, "and if ever I had been a highwayman,
I would have done so; I should have thought myself all the more
safe; and, moreover, shouldn't have despised myself. To curry
favour with those you are robbing, sometimes at the expense of your
own comrades, as I have known fellows do, why, it is the greatest--
"

"So it is," interposed my friend the postillion, who chanced to be
present at a considerable part of the old ostler's discourse; "it
is, as you say, the greatest of humbug, and merely, after all, gets
a fellow into trouble; but no regular bred highwayman would do it.
I say, George, catch the Pope of Rome trying to curry favour with
anybody he robs; catch old Mumbo Jumbo currying favour with the
Archbishop of Canterbury and the Dean and Chapter, should he meet
them in a stage-coach; it would be with him, Bricconi Abbasso, as
he knocked their teeth out with the butt of his trombone; and the
old regular-built ruffian would be all the safer for it, as Bill
would say, as ten to one the Archbishop and Chapter, after such a
spice of his quality, would be afraid to swear against him, and to
hang him, even if he were in their power, though that would be the
proper way; for, if it is the greatest of all humbug for a
highwayman to curry favour with those he robs, the next greatest is
to try to curry favour with a highwayman when you have got him, by
letting him off."

Finding the old man so well acquainted with the history of
highwaymen, and taking considerable interest in the subject, having
myself edited a book containing the lives of many remarkable people
who had figured on the highway, I forthwith asked him how it was
that the trade of highwaymen had become extinct in England, as at
present we never heard of any one following it. Whereupon he told
me that many causes had contributed to bring about that result; the
principal of which were the following:- the refusal to license
houses which were known to afford shelter to highwaymen, which,
amongst many others, had caused the inn at Hounslow to be closed;
the inclosure of many a wild heath in the country, on which they
were in the habit of lurking, and particularly the establishing in
the neighbourhood of London of a well-armed mounted patrol, who
rode the highwaymen down, and delivered them up to justice, which
hanged them without ceremony.

"And that would be the way to deal with Mumbo Jumbo and his gang,"
said the postillion, "should they show their visages in these
realms; and I hear by the newspapers that they are becoming every
day more desperate. Take away the license from their public-
houses, cut down the rookeries and shadowy old avenues in which
they are fond of lying in wait, in order to sally out upon people
as they pass in the roads; but, above all, establish a good mounted
police to ride after the ruffians and drag them by the scruff of
the neck to the next clink, where they might lie till they could be
properly dealt with by law; instead of which, the Government are
repealing the wise old laws enacted against such characters, giving
fresh licenses every day to their public-houses, and saying that it
would be a pity to cut down their rookeries and thickets because
they look so very picturesque; and, in fact, giving them all kind
of encouragement; why, if such behaviour is not enough to drive an
honest man mad, I know not what is. It is of no use talking, I
only wish the power were in my hands, and if I did not make short
work of them, might I be a mere jackass postillion all the
remainder of my life."

Besides acquiring from the ancient ostler a great deal of curious
information respecting the ways and habits of the heroes of the
road, with whom he had come in contact in the early portion of his
life, I picked up from him many excellent hints relating to the art
of grooming horses. Whilst at the inn, I frequently groomed the
stage and post-horses, and those driven up by travellers in their
gigs: I was not compelled, nor indeed expected, to do so; but I
took pleasure in the occupation; and I remember at that period one
of the principal objects of my ambition was to be a first-rate
groom, and to make the skins of the creatures I took in hand look
sleek and glossy like those of moles. I have said that I derived
valuable hints from the old man, and, indeed, became a very
tolerable groom, but there was a certain finishing touch which I
could never learn from him, though he possessed it himself, and
which I could never attain to by my own endeavours; though my want
of success certainly did not proceed from want of application, for
I have rubbed the horses down, purring and buzzing all the time,
after the genuine ostler fashion, until the perspiration fell in
heavy drops upon my shoes, and when I had done my best and asked
the old fellow what he thought of my work, I could never extract
from him more than a kind of grunt, which might be translated, "Not
so very bad, but I have seen a horse groomed much better," which
leads me to suppose that a person, in order to be a first-rate
groom, must have something in him when he is born which I had not,
and, indeed, which many other people have not who pretend to be
grooms. What does the reader think?

CHAPTER XXV

Stable Hartshorn--How to Manage a Horse on a Journey--Your Best
Friend.

Of one thing I am certain, that the reader must be much delighted
with the wholesome smell of the stable, with which many of these
pages are redolent; what a contrast to the sickly odours exhaled
from those of some of my contemporaries, especially of those who
pretend to be of the highly fashionable class, and who treat of
reception-rooms, well may they be styled so, in which dukes,
duchesses, earls, countesses, archbishops, bishops, mayors,
mayoresses--not forgetting the writers themselves, both male and
female--congregate and press upon one another; how cheering, how
refreshing, after having been nearly knocked down with such an
atmosphere, to come in contact with genuine stable hartshorn. Oh!
the reader shall have yet more of the stable, and of that old
ostler, for which he or she will doubtless exclaim, "Much
obliged!"--and, lest I should forget to perform my promise, the
reader shall have it now.

I shall never forget an harangue from the mouth of the old man,
which I listened to one warm evening as he and I sat on the
threshold of the stable, after having attended to some of the wants
of a batch of coach-horses. It related to the manner in which a
gentleman should take care of his horse and self, whilst engaged in
a journey on horseback, and was addressed to myself, on the
supposition of my one day coming to an estate, and of course
becoming a gentleman.

"When you are a gentleman," said he, "should you ever journey on a
horse of your own, and you could not have a much better than the
one you have here eating its fill in the box yonder--I wonder, by
the bye, how you ever came by it--you can't do better than follow
the advice I am about to give you, both with respect to your animal
and yourself. Before you start, merely give your horse a couple of
handfuls of corn and a little water, somewhat under a quart, and if
you drink a pint of water yourself out of the pail, you will feel
all the better during the whole day; then you may walk and trot
your animal for about ten miles, till you come to some nice inn,
where you may get down and see your horse led into a nice stall,
telling the ostler not to feed him till you come. If the ostler
happens to be a dog-fancier, and has an English terrier-dog like
that of mine there, say what a nice dog it is, and praise its black
and tawn; and if he does not happen to be a dog-fancier, ask him
how he's getting on, and whether he ever knew worse times; that
kind of thing will please the ostler, and he will let you do just
what you please with your own horse, and when your back is turned,
he'll say to his comrades what a nice gentleman you are, and how he
thinks he has seen you before; then go and sit down to breakfast,
and, before you have finished breakfast, get up and go and give
your horse a feed of corn; chat with the ostler two or three
minutes till your horse has taken the shine out of his corn, which
will prevent the ostler taking any of it away when your back is
turned, for such things are sometimes done--not that I ever did
such a thing myself when I was at the inn at Hounslow. Oh, dear
me, no! Then go and finish your breakfast, and when you have
finished your breakfast and called for the newspaper, go and water
your horse, letting him have one pailful, then give him another
feed of corn, and enter into discourse with the ostler about bull-
baiting, the prime minister, and the like; and when your horse has
once more taken the shine out of his corn, go back to your room and
your newspaper--and I hope for your sake it may be the Globe, for
that's the best paper going--then pull the bell-rope and order in
your bill, which you will pay without counting it up--supposing you
to be a gentleman. Give the waiter sixpence, and order out your
horse, and when your horse is out, pay for the corn, and give the
ostler a shilling, then mount your horse and walk him gently for
five miles; and whilst you are walking him in this manner, it may
be as well to tell you to take care that you do not let him down
and smash his knees, more especially if the road be a particularly
good one, for it is not at a desperate hiverman pace, and over very
bad roads, that a horse tumbles and smashes his knees, but on your
particularly nice road, when the horse is going gently and lazily,
and is half asleep, like the gemman on his back; well, at the end
of the five miles, when the horse has digested his food, and is all
right, you may begin to push your horse on, trotting him a mile at
a heat, and then walking him a quarter of a one, that his wind may
be not distressed; and you may go on in that way for thirty miles,
never galloping, of course, for none but fools or hivermen ever
gallop horses on roads; and at the end of that distance you may
stop at some other nice inn to dinner. I say, when your horse is
led into the stable, after that same thirty miles' trotting and
walking, don't let the saddle be whisked off at once, for if you do
your horse will have such a sore back as will frighten you, but let
your saddle remain on your horse's back, with the girths loosened,
till after his next feed of corn, and be sure that he has no corn,
much less water, till after a long hour and more; after he is fed
he may be watered to the tune of half a pail, and then the ostler
can give him a regular rub down; you may then sit down to dinner,
and when you have dined get up and see to your horse as you did
after breakfast, in fact, you must do much after the same fashion
you did at t'other inn; see to your horse, and by no means
disoblige the ostler. So when you have seen to your horse a second
time, you will sit down to your bottle of wine--supposing you to be
a gentleman--and after you have finished it, and your argument
about the corn-laws with any commercial gentleman who happens to be
in the room, you may mount your horse again--not forgetting to do
the proper thing to the waiter and ostler; you may mount your horse
again and ride him, as you did before, for about five and twenty
miles, at the end of which you may put up for the night after a
very fair day's journey, for no gentleman--supposing he weighs
sixteen stone, as I suppose you will by the time you become a
gentleman--ought to ride a horse more than sixty-five miles in one
day, provided he has any regard for his horse's back, or his own
either. See to your horse at night, and have him well rubbed down.
The next day you may ride your horse forty miles, just as you
please, but never foolishly, and those forty miles will bring you
to your journey's end, unless your journey be a plaguy long one,
and if so, never ride your horse more than five and thirty miles a
day, always, however, seeing him well fed, and taking more care of
him than yourself; which is but right and reasonable, seeing as how
the horse is the best animal of the two."

"When you are a gentleman," said he, after a pause, "the first
thing you must think about is to provide yourself with a good horse
for your own particular riding; you will, perhaps, keep a coach and
pair, but they will be less your own than your lady's, should you
have one, and your young gentry, should you have any; or, if you
have neither, for madam, your housekeeper, and the upper female
servants; so you need trouble your head less about them, though, of
course, you would not like to pay away your money for screws; but
be sure you get a good horse for your own riding; and that you may
have a good chance of having a good one, buy one that's young and
has plenty of belly--a little more than the one has which you now
have, though you are not yet a gentleman; you will, of course, look
to his head, his withers, legs and other points, but never buy a
horse at any price that has not plenty of belly; no horse that has
not belly is ever a good feeder, and a horse that a'n't a good
feeder can't be a good horse; never buy a horse that is drawn up in
the belly behind; a horse of that description can't feed, and can
never carry sixteen stone.

"So when you have got such a horse be proud of it--as I daresay you
are of the one you have now--and wherever you go swear there a'n't
another to match it in the country, and if anybody gives you the
lie, take him by the nose and tweak it off, just as you would do if
anybody were to speak ill of your lady, or, for want of her, of
your housekeeper. Take care of your horse, as you would of the
apple of your eye--I am sure I would, if I were a gentleman, which
I don't ever expect to be, and hardly wish, seeing as how I am
sixty-nine, and am rather too old to ride--yes, cherish and take
care of your horse as perhaps the best friend you have in the
world; for, after all, who will carry you through thick and thin as
your horse will? not your gentlemen friends, I warrant, nor your
upper servants, male or female; perhaps your lady would, that is,
if she is a whopper, and one of the right sort; the others would be
more likely to take up mud and pelt you with it, provided they saw
you in trouble, than to help you. So take care of your horse, and
feed him every day with your own hands; give him three quarters of
a peck of corn each day, mixed up with a little hay-chaff, and
allow him besides one hundredweight of hay in the course of the
week; some say that the hay should be hardland hay, because it is
the wholesomest, but I say, let it be clover hay, because the horse
likes it best; give him through summer and winter, once a week, a
pailful of bran mash, cold in summer and in winter hot; ride him
gently about the neighbourhood every day, by which means you will
give exercise to yourself and horse, and, moreover, have the
satisfaction of exhibiting yourself and your horse to advantage,
and hearing, perhaps, the men say what a fine horse, and the ladies
saying what a fine man: never let your groom mount your horse, as
it is ten to one, if you do, your groom will be wishing to show off
before company, and will fling your horse down. I was groom to a
gemman before I went to the inn at Hounslow, and flung him a horse
down worth ninety guineas, by endeavouring to show off before some
ladies that I met on the road. Turn your horse out to grass
throughout May and the first part of June, for then the grass is
sweetest, and the flies don't sting so bad as they do later in
summer; afterwards merely turn him out occasionally in the swale of
the morn and the evening; after September the grass is good for
little, lash and sour at best; every horse should go out to grass,
if not his blood becomes full of greasy humours, and his wind is
apt to become affected, but he ought to be kept as much as possible
from the heat and flies, always got up at night, and never turned
out late in the year--Lord! if I had always such a nice attentive
person to listen to me as you are, I could go on talking about
'orses to the end of time."

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