CHAPTER XLVIII. AN UNHAPPY DISCLOSURE
'What!' cried I, as I awoke the next morning, and looked with amazement at the figure which waddled across the room with a hoot in either hand—'what! not Corny Delany, surely?'
'Ugh! that same,' said he, with a cranky croak. 'I don't wonder ye don't know me; hardship's telling on me every day.'
Now really, in vindication of my father's household, in which Sir Corny had been domesticated for the last two months, I must observe that the alteration in his appearance was not exactly such as to justify his remark; on the contrary, he had grown fatter and more ruddy, and looked in far better case than I had ever seen him. His face, however, most perseveringly preserved its habitual sour and crabbed expression, rather increased, than otherwise, by his improved condition.
'So, Corny, you are not comfortable here, I find?'
'Comfortable! The ways of this place would kill the Danes! Nothing but ringing bells from morning till night; carriages drivin' like wind up to the door, and bang, bang away at the rapper; then more ringing to let them out again; and bells for breakfast and for luncheon and the hall dinner; and then the sight of vitals that's wasted—meat and fish and fowl and vegetables without end. Ugh! the Haythins, the Turks! eating and drinking as if the world was all their own.'
'Well, apparently they take good care of you in that respect'
'Devil a bit of care; here it's every man for himself. But I'll give warning on Saturday; sorrow one o' me 'll be kilt for the like of them.'
'You prefer Ireland, then, Corny?'
'Who said I did?' said he snappishly; 'isn't it as bad there? Ugh, ugh! the Captain won't rest aisy in his grave after the way he treated me—leaving me here alone and dissolate in this place, amongst strangers!'
'Well, you must confess the country is not so bad.'
'And why would I confess it? What's in it that I don't mislike? Is it the heap of houses and the smoke and the devil's noise that's always going on that I'd like? Why isn't it peaceful and quiet like Dublin?'
And as I conversed further with him, I found that all his dislikes proceeded from the discrepancy he everywhere discovered from what he had been accustomed to in Ireland, and which, without liking, he still preferred to our Saxon observances—the few things he saw worthy of praise being borrowed or stolen from his own side of the Channel And in this his ingenuity was striking, insomuch that the very trees in Woburn Park owed their goodness to the owner having been once a Lord Lieutenant in Ireland, where, as Corny expressed it, 'devil thank him to have fine trees! hadn't he the pick of the Fhaynix?'
I knew that candour formed a most prominent feature in Mr. Delany's character, and consequently had little difficulty in ascertaining his opinion of every member of my family; indeed, to do him justice, no one ever required less of what is called pumping. His judgment on things and people flowed from him without effort or restraint, so that ere half an hour elapsed he had expatiated on my mothers pride and vanity, apostrophised my father's hastiness and determination, and was quite prepared to enter upon a critical examination of my cousin Julia's failings, concerning whom, to my astonishment, he was not half so lenient as I expected.
'Arrah, isn't she like the rest of them, coorting one day with Captain Phil, and another with the young lord there, and then laughing at them both with the ould duke that comes here to dinner! She thinks I don't be minding her; but didn't I see her taking myself off one day on paper—making a drawing of me, as if I was a haste! Mayhe there's worse nor me,' said the little man, looking down upon his crooked shins and large knee-joints with singular complacency; 'and mayhe she'd get one of them yet.' À harsh cackle, the substitute for a laugh, closed this speech.
'Breakfast on the table, sir,' said a servant, tapping gently at the door.
'I'll engage it is, and will be till two o'clock, when they'll be calling out for luncheon,' said Corny, turning up the whites of his eyes, as though the profligate waste of the house was a sin he wished to wash his hands of. 'That wasn't the way at his honour the Jidge's; he'd never taste a bit from morning till night; and many a man he 'd send to his long account in the meantime. Ugh! I wish I was back there.'
'I have spent many happy days in Ireland, too,' said I, scarce following him in more than the general meaning of his speech.
A fit of coughing from Corny interrupted his reply, but as he left the room I could hear his muttered meditations, something in this strain: 'Happy days, indeed! A dacent life you led! tramping about the country with a fool, horse-riding and fighting! Ugh!'
I found my cousin in the breakfast-room alone; my father had already gone out; and as Lady Charlotte never left her room before three or four o'clock, I willingly took the opportunity of our tête-à-tête to inquire into the cause of the singular reception I had met with, and to seek an explanation, if so might be, of the viceroy's change towards me since his visit to England.
Julia entered frankly and freely into the whole matter, with the details of which, though evidently not trusting me to the full, she was somehow perfectly conversant.
'My dear John,' said she, 'your whole conduct in Ireland has been much mistaken——'
'Calumniated, apparently, were the better word, Julia,' said I hastily.
'Nay, hear me out. It is so easy, when people have no peculiar reasons to vindicate another, to misconstrue, perhaps condemn. It is so much the way of the world to look at things in their worst light, that I am sure you will see no particular ingenuity was required to make your career in Dublin appear a wild one, and your life in the country still more so. Now you are growing impatient; you are getting angry; so I shall stop.'
'No, no, Julia; a thousand pardons if a passing shade of indignation did show itself in my face. Pray go on.'
'Well then, when a young gentleman, whose exclusive leanings were even a little quizzed here—there, no impatience!—condescends at one spring to frequent third-rate people's houses; falls in love with a niece, or daughter, or a something there; plays high among riotous associates; makes rash wagers; and fights with his friends, who endeavour to rescue him——'
'Thank you, Julia—a thousand thanks, sweet cousin! The whole narrative and its author are palpably before me.'
A deep blush covered her cheek as I rose hastily from my chair.
'John, dear John, sit down again,' said she, 'I have only been in jest all this time. You surely do not suppose me silly enough to credit one word of all this?'
'It must have been told you, however,' said I, fixing my eyes on her as I spoke.
The redness of her cheek grew deeper, and her confusion increased to a painful extent, as, taking my hand in hers, she said in a low, soft voice—
'I have been very, very foolish; but you will promise me never to remember—at least never to act upon—the——'
The words became fainter and fainter as she spoke, and at last died away inaudibly; and suddenly there shot across my mind the passage in O'Grady's letter. The doubt once suggested, gained strength at every moment: she loved De Vere. I will not attempt to convey the conflicting storm of passion this thought stirred up within me.
I turned towards her. Her head was thrown gently back, and her deep-blue lustrous eyes were fixed on me as if waiting my reply. A tear rolled heavily along her cheek; it was the first I ever saw her shed. Pressing her hand to my lips, I muttered the words, 'Trust me, Julia,' and left the room. 'Sir George wishes to see you, sir, in his own room,' said a servant, as I stood stunned and overcome by the discovery I had made of my cousin's affection. I had no time given me for further reflection as I followed the man to my father's room.
'Sit down, Jack,' said my father, as he turned the key in the door. 'I wish to talk to you alone here. I have been with the duke this morning; a little explanation has satisfied him that your conduct was perfectly irreproachable in Ireland. He writes by this post to the viceroy to make the whole thing clear, and indeed he offered to reinstate you at once—which I refused, however. Now to something graver still, my boy, and which I wish I could spare you; but it cannot be.'
As he spoke these words he leaned his head in both his hands, and was silent. A confused, imperfect sense of some impending bad news almost stupefied me, and I waited without speaking. When my father lifted up his head his face was pale and care-worn, and an expression such as long illness leaves had usurped the strong and manly character of his countenance.
'Come, my boy, I must not keep you longer in suspense. Fortune has dealt hardly with me since we parted. Jack, I am a beggar!'
A convulsive gulp and a rattling sound in the throat followed the words, and for a second or two his fixed looks and purple colour made me fear a fit was approaching. But in a few minutes he recovered his calmness, and proceeded, still with a broken and tremulous voice, to relate the circumstances of his altered fortune.
It appeared that many British officers of high rank had involved themselves deeply in a loan to the Spanish Government, under the faith of speedy repayment. The varying chances of the Peninsular struggle had given this loan all the character of a gambling speculation, the skill in which consisted in the anticipation of the result of the war we were then engaged in. My father's sanguine hopes of ultimate success induced him to enter deeply into the speculation, from which, having once engaged, there was no retreat. Thousand after thousand followed, to secure the sum already advanced; and at last, hard pressed by the increasing demands for money, and confident that the first turn of fortune would lead to repayment, he had made use of the greater part of my cousin Julia's fortune, whose guardian he was, and in whose hands this trust-money had been left My cousin would come of age in about four months, at which time she would be eighteen; and then, if the money were not forthcoming, the consequences were utter ruin, with the terrific blow of blasted character and reputation.
There was a sum of ten thousand pounds settled on me by my grandfather, which I at once offered to place at his disposal.
'Alas, my poor fellow! I have advanced already upwards of thirty thousand of Julia's fortune! No, no, Jack, I have thought much over the matter; there is but one way of escaping from this difficulty. By disposing of these bonds at considerable loss, I shall be enabled to pay Julia's money. This will leave us little better than above actual want; still, it must be done. I shall solicit a command abroad; they'll not refuse me, I know. Lady Charlotte must retire to Bath, or some quiet place, which in my absence will appear less remarkable. Strict economy and time will do much. And as to yourself, I know that having once learned what you have to look to I shall have no cause of complaint on your score; the duke has promised to take care of you. And now my heart is lighter than it has been for some months past.'
Before my father had ceased speaking the shock of his news had gradually subsided with me, and I was fully intent on the details by which he hoped to escape his embarrassments. My mother was my first thought. Lady Charlotte, I knew, could never encounter her changed condition; she was certain to sink under the very shock of it. My father, however, supposed that she need not be told its full extent; that, by management, the circumstances should be gradually made known to her; and he hoped, too, that her interest in her husband and son, both absent from her, would withdraw her thoughts in great measure from the routine of fashionable life, and fix them in a channel more homely and domestic.
'Besides,' added he, with more animation of voice, 'they may offer me some military appointment in the colonies, where she could accompany me; and this will prevent an exposure. And, after all, Jack, there is nothing else for it.' As he said this he fixed his eyes on me, as though rather asking than answering the question.
Not knowing what to reply, I was silent.
'You were fond of Julia, as a boy,' said he carelessly.
The blood rushed to my cheek, as I answered, 'Yes, sir; but—but——'
'But you have outgrown that?' added he, with a smile.
'Not so much, sir, as that she has forgotten me. In fact, I believe we are excellent cousins.'
'And it is not now, my dear boy, I would endeavour to make you more to each other. What is not a union of inclination shall never be one of sordid interest. Besides, Jack, why should we not take the field together? The very thought of it makes me feel young enough!'
I saw his lip quiver as he spoke; and unable to bear more, I wrung his hand warmly, and hurried away.
CHAPTER XLIX. THE HORSE GUARDS
I will not say that my reverse of fortune did not depress me; indeed, the first blow fell heavily; but that once past, a number of opposing motives rallied my courage and nerved my heart. My father, I knew, relied on me in this crisis to support his own strength. I had learned to care less for extravagant habits and expensive tastes, by living among those who accorded them little sympathy and less respect. Besides, if my changed career excluded me from the race of fashion, it opened the brilliant path of a soldier's life before me; and now every hour seemed an age, until I should find myself among the gallant fellows who were winning their laurels in the battlefields of the Peninsula.
According to the duke's appointment of the preceding evening I found myself, at ten o'clock punctually, awaiting my turn to be introduced, in the ante-chamber of the Horse Guards. The room was crowded with officers in full dress. Some old white-haired generals of division had been coming daily for years past to solicit commands, their fitness for which lay only in their own doting imaginations; some, broken by sickness and crippled with wounds, were seeking colonial appointments they never could live to reach; hale and stout men in the prime of life were there also, entreating exchanges which should accommodate their wives and daughters, who preferred Bath or Cheltenham to the banks of the Tagus or the snows of Canada. Among these, however, were many fine soldierlike fellows, whose only request was to be sent where hard knocks were going, careless of the climate and regardless of the cause. Another class were thinly sprinkled around—young officers of the staff, many of them delicate, effeminate-looking figures, herding scrupulously together, and never condescending, by word or look, to acknowledge their brethren about them. In this knot De Vere was conspicuous by the loud tone of his voice and the continued titter of his unmeaning laugh. I have already mentioned the consummate ease with which he could apparently forget all unpleasant recollections, and accost the man whom he should have blushed to meet. Now he exhibited this power in perfection; saluting me across the room with a familiar motion of his hand, he called out—
'Ah, Hinton, you here, too? Sick of Ireland; I knew it would come to that. Looking for something near town?'
A cold negative, and a colder bow, was my only answer.
Nothing abashed by this—indeed, to all seeming, quite indifferent to it» he continued—
'Bad style of thing, Dublin; couldn't stand those con-founded talkers, with their old jokes from circuit. You were horribly bored, too; I saw it.'
'I beg, my lord,' said I, in a tone of seriousness, the best exchange I could assume for the deep annoyance I felt—'I beg that you will not include me in your opinions respecting Ireland; I opine we differ materially in our impressions on that country, and perhaps not without reason too. These latter words I spoke with marked emphasis, and fixing my eyes steadily on him.
'Very possibly,' lisped he, as coolly as before. 'I left it without regret; you apparently ought to be there still! Ha, ha, ha! he has it there, I think.'
The blood mounted to my face and temples as I heard these words, and stepping close up beside him, I said slowly and distinctly—
'I thought, sir, that one lesson might have taught you with whom these liberties were practicable.'
As I said thus much the door opened, and his grace the Duke of York appeared. Abashed at having so far forgotten where I was, I stood motionless and crimson for shame. Lord Dudley, on the contrary, bowed reverently to his Royal Highness, without the slightest evidence of discomposure or irritation, his easy smile curling his lip.
The duke turned from one to the other of us without speaking, his dark eyes piercing, as it were, into our very hearts. 'Lord Dudley de Vere,' said he at length, 'I have signed your appointment. Mr. Hinton, I am sorry to find that the voice I have heard more than once within the last five minutes, in an angry tone, was yours. Take care, sir, that this forgetfulness does not grow upon you. The colonel of the Twenty-seventh is not the person to overlook it, I promise you.'
'If your Royal Highness——'
'I must entreat you to spare me any explanations. You are gazetted to the Twenty-seventh. I hope you will hold yourself in readiness for immediate embarkation. Where's the detachment, Sir Howard?'
'At Chatham, your Royal Highness,' replied an old officer behind the duke's shoulder. At the same moment his grace passed through the room, conversing as he went with different persons about him.
As I turned away, I met Lord Dudley's eyes. They were riveted on me with an expression of triumphant malice I had never seen in them before, and I hurried homeward with a heart crushed and wounded.
I have but one reason for the mention of this trivial incident. It is to show how often the studied courtesy, the well-practised deception, that the fashion of the world teaches, will prevail over the heartfelt, honest indignation which deep feeling evinces; and what a vast superiority the very affectation of temper confers, in the judgment of others who stand by the game of life and care nothing for the players at either side. Let no one suspect me of lauding the mockery of virtue in what I say here. I would merely impress on the young man who can feel for the deep sorrow and abasement I suffered the importance of the attainment of that self-command, of that restraint over any outbreak of passion, when the very semblance of it insures respect and admiration.
It is very difficult to witness with indifference the preference of those we have once loved for some other person; still more so, when that other chances to be one we dislike. The breach of affection seems then tinctured with a kind of betrayal; we call to mind how once we swayed the temper and ruled the thoughts of her who now has thrown off her allegiance; we feel, perhaps for the first time too, how forgotten are all our lessons, how dead is all our wonted influence; we remember when the least word, the slightest action, bent beneath our will; when our smile was happiness and our very sadness a reproof; and now we see ourselves unminded and neglected, and no more liberty to advise, no more power to control, than the merest stranger of the passing hour. What a wound to our self-love!
That my cousin Julia loved De Vere, O'Grady's suspicions had already warned me; the little I had seen of her since my return strengthened the impression, while his confident manner and assured tone confirmed my worst fears. In my heart I knew how utterly unworthy he was of such a girl; but then, if he had already won her affections, my knowledge came too late. Besides, the changed circumstances of my own fortune, which must soon become known, would render my interference suspicious, and consequently of no value; and, after all, if I determined on such a course, what allegation could I bring against him which he could not explain away as the mere levity of the young officer associating among those he looked down upon and despised?
Such were some of my reflections as I slowly returned homewards from the Horse Guards. As I arrived, a travelling-carriage stood at the door; boxes, imperials, and cap-cases littered the hall and steps; servants were hurrying back and forward, and Mademoiselle Clémence, my mother's maid, with a poodle under one arm and a macaw's cage in the other, was adding to the confusion by directions in a composite language that would have astonished Babel itself.
'What means all this?' said I. 'Is Lady Charlotte leaving town?'
'Miladi va partir——'
'Her ladyship's going to Hastings, sir,' said the butler, interrupting. 'Dr. T——-has been here this morning and recommends an immediate change of air for her ladyship.'
'Is Sir George in the house?'
'No, sir, he's just gone out with the doctor.'
Ah, thought I, this then is a concerted measure to induce my mother to leave town. 'Is Lady Julia at home?'
'Yes, sir, in the drawing-room.'
'Whose horse is that with the groom?' 'Lord Dudley de Vere's, sir; he's upstairs.' Already had I turned to go to the drawing-room, when I heard these words. Suddenly, a faint, half-sick feeling came over me, and I hastened upstairs to my own room, actually dreading to meet any one as I went. The blank future before me never seemed so cheerless as at that moment—separated, without a chance of ever meeting, from the only one I ever really loved; tortured by my doubts of her feeling for me (for even now what would I not have given to know she loved me!) my worldly prospects ruined; without a home; my cousin Julia, the only one who retained either an interest in me or seemed to care for me, about to give her hand to the man I hated and despised. 'How soon, and I shall be alone in the world!' thought I; and already the cold selfishness of isolation presented itself to my mind.
A gentle tap came to the door. I opened it; it was a message from Lady Charlotte, requesting to see me in her room. As I passed the door of the drawing-room I heard Lady Julia and Lord de Vere talking and laughing together. He was, as usual, 'so amusing,' as my mother's letter called him—doubtless, relating my hasty and intemperate conduct at the Horse Guards. For an instant I stopped irresolute as to whether I should not break suddenly in, and disconcert his lordship's practical coolness by a disclosure: my better reason prevented me, and I passed on. Lady Charlotte was seated in a deep arm-chair, inspecting the packing of various articles of toilette and jewelry which were going on around her, her cheek somewhat flushed from even this small excitement.
'Ah, dearest John, how d'ye do? Find a chair somewhere, and sit down by me; you see what confusion we 're in. Dr. Y—— found there was not an hour to spare; the heart he suspects to be sympathetically engaged—don't put that Chantilly veil there, I shall never get at it—and he advises Hastings for the present. He's coming with us, however—I'll wear that ring, Clémence—and I must insist at his looking at you. You are very pale to-day, and dark under the eyes; have you any pain in the side?'
'None whatever, my dear mother; I'm quite well.'
'Pain is, however, a late symptom; my attack began with an—a sense of—it was rather—— Has Bundal not sent back that bracelet? How very provoking! Could you call there, dear John?—that tiresome man never minds the servants—it's just on your way to the club, or the Horse Guards, or somewhere.'
I could scarce help a smile, as I promised not to forget the commission.
'And now, my dear, how did his grace receive you? You saw him this morning?'
'My interview was quite satisfactory on the main point. I am appointed to the Twenty-seventh.'
'Why not on the staff, dear John? You surely don't mean to leave England! Having been abroad already—in Ireland I mean—it's very hard to expect you to go so soon again. Lady Jane Colthurst's son has never been farther from her than Knightsbridge; and I'm sure I don't see why we are to be treated worse than she is.'
'But my own wish——'
'Your own wish, my dear, could never be to give me uneasiness, which I assure you you did very considerably while in Ireland. The horrid people you made acquaintance with—my health, I'm certain, could never sustain a repetition of the shock I experienced then.'
My mother leaned back and closed her eyes, as if some very dreadful circumstance was passing across her memory; and I, half ashamed of the position to which she would condemn me, was silent.
'There, that aigrette will do very well there, I'm sure. I don't know why you are putting in all these things; I shall never want them again, in all likelihood.'
The depressed tone in which these words were spoken did not affect me much; for I knew well, from long habit, how my mother loved to dwell on the possibility of that event, the bare suggestion of which, from another, she couldn't have endured.
Just at this moment Julia entered in her travelling dress, a shawl thrown negligently across her shoulders.
'I hope I have not delayed you. John, are we to have your company too?'
'No, my dear,' said my mother languidly, 'he's going to leave us. Some foolish notion of active service——'
'Indeed!' said Julia, not waiting for the conclusion of the speech—'indeed!' She drew near me, and as she did so her colour became heightened, and her dark eyes grew darker and more meaning. 'You never told me this!'
'I only knew it about an hour ago myself,' replied I coolly; 'and when I was about to communicate my news to you I found you were engaged with a visitor—Lord de Vere, I think.'
'Ah, yes, very true; he was here,' she said quickly; and then perceiving that my eyes were fixed upon her, she turned her head hastily, and in evident confusion.
'Dear me, is it so late?' said my mother with a sigh. 'I have some calls to make yet. Don't you think, John, you could take them off my hands? It's only to drop a card at Lady Blair's; and you could ask if Caroline 's better—though, poor thing, she can't be, of course; Dr. Y—— says her malady is exactly my own. And then if you are passing Long's, tell Sir Charles that our whist-party is put off—perhaps Grammont has told him already. You may mention to Saunders that I shall not want the horses till I return; and say I detest greys, they are so like city people's equipages; and wait an instant'—here her ladyship took a small ivory memorandum tablet from the table, and began reading from it a list of commissions, some of them most ludicrously absurd. In the midst of the catalogue my father entered hastily with his watch in his hand.
'You'll be dreadfully late on the road, Charlotte; and you forget Y—— must be back here early to-morrow.'
'So I had forgotten it,' said she with some animation; 'but we're quite ready now. Clémence has done everything, I think. Come, John, give me your arm, my dear: Julia always takes this side. Are you certain it won't rain, Sir George?'
'I really cannot be positive,' said my father, smiling.
'I'm sure there's thunder in the air,' rejoined my mother; 'my nerves would never bear a storm.'
Some dreadful catastrophe in the West Indies, where an earthquake had swallowed up a whole population, occurred to her memory at the instant, and the possibility of something similar occurring between Seven Oaks and Tunbridge seemed to engross her entire attention. By this time we reached the hall, where the servants, drawn up in double file, stood in respectful silence. My mother's eyes were, however, directed upon a figure which occupied the place next the door, and whose costume certainly was strangely at variance with the accurate liveries about him. An old white greatcoat with some twenty capes reaching nearly to the ground (for the garment had been originally destined for a much larger person), a glazed hat fastened down with a handkerchief passed over it and tied under the chin, and a black-thorn stick with a little bundle at the end of it were his most remarkable equipments.
'What is it? What can it be doing there?' said my mother, in a Siddons tone of voice.
'What is it? Corny Delany, no less,' croaked out the little man in the crankiest tone of his harsh voice. 'It's what remains of me, at laste!'
'Oh, yes,' said Julia, bursting into a laugh, 'Corny's coming as my bodyguard. He'll sit in the rumble with Thomas.'
'What a shocking figure it is!' said my mother, surveying him through her glass.
'Time doesn't improve either of us,' said Corny, with the grin of a demon. Happily the observation was only heard by myself. 'Is it in silk stockings I'd be trapesing about the roads all night, with the rheumatiz in the small of my back! Ugh! the Haythina!'
My mother was at length seated in the carriage, with Julia beside her—the hundred and one petty annoyances to make travelling uncomfortable, by way of rendering it supportable, around her; Corny had mounted to his place beside Thomas, who regarded him with a look of as profound contempt as a sleek, well-fed pointer would confer upon some mangy mongrel of the roadside; a hurried good-bye from my mother, a quick, short glance from Julia, a whisper lost in the crash of the wheels—and they were gone.
CHAPTER L. THE RETREAT FROM BURGOS
Few men have gone through life without passing through certain periods which, although not marked by positive misfortune, were yet so impressed by gloom and despondence that their very retrospect is saddening. Happy it is for us that in after days our memory is but little retentive of these. We remember the shadows that darkened over the landscape, but we forget in great part their cause and their duration, and perhaps even sometimes are disposed to smile at the sources of grief to which long habit of the world and its ways would have made us callous.
I was almost alone in the world—bereft of fortune, separated irrevocably from the woman I loved, and by whom I had reason to think my affection was returned. In that home to which I should have looked for fondness I found only gloom and misfortune—my mother grown insensible to everything save some frivolous narrative of her own health; my father, once high-spirited and freehearted, care-worn, depressed, and broken; my cousin, my early playfellow, half sweetheart and half sister, bestowing her heart and affections on one so unworthy of her. All lost to me—and at a time, too, when the heart is too weak and tender to stand alone, but must cling to something, or it sinks upon the earth, crushed and trodden upon.
I looked back upon my past life, and thought over the happy hours I had spent in the wild west, roaming through its deep valleys and over its heath-clad mountains. I thought of her my companion through many a long summer day by the rocky shore, against which the white waves were ever beating, watching the sea-birds careering full many a fathom deep below us, their shrill cries mixing with the wilder plash of the ever-restless sea—and how we dreamed away those hours, now half in sadness, now in bright hope of long years to come, and found ourselves thus wandering hand in hand, loved and loving; and then I looked out upon the bleak world before me, without an object to win, without a goal to strive at.
'Come, Jack,' said my father, laying his hand on my shoulder, and startling me out of my reverie, 'one piece of good fortune we have had. The duke has given me the command at Chatham; some hint of my altered circumstances, it seems, had reached him, and without my applying, he most kindly sent for me and told me of my appointment. You must join the service companies of the Twenty-seventh by to-morrow; they are under sailing-orders, and no time is to be lost. I told his grace that for all your soft looks and smooth chin there was no lack of spirit in your heart; and you must take an eagle, Jack, if you would keep up my credit.'
Laughingly spoken as these few words were, they somehow struck upon a chord that had long lain silent in my heart, and as suddenly awoke in me the burning desire for distinction, and the ambitious thirst of military glory.
The next evening at sunset the transport weighed anchor and stood out to sea. A slight breeze off shore and an ebb-tide carried us gently away from land; and as night was falling I stood alone, leaning on the bulwarks, and looking fixedly on the faint shadows of the tall chalk-cliffs, my father's last words, 'You must take an eagle, Jack!' still ringing in my ears, and sinking deeply into my heart.
Had my accidents by flood and field been more numerous and remarkable than they were, the recently-told adventures of my friend Charles O'Malley would prevent my giving them to the public. The subaltern of a marching regiment—a crack corps, it is true—I saw merely the ordinary detail of a campaigning life; and although my desire to distinguish myself rose each day higher, the greatest extent of my renown went no further than the admiration of my comrades that one so delicately nurtured and brought up should bear so cheerfully and well the roughings of a soldier's life; and my sobriquet of 'Jack Hinton, the Guardsman,' was earned among the stormy scenes and blood-stained fields of the Peninsula.
My first experiences of military life were indeed but little encouraging. I joined the army in the disastrous retreat from Burgos. What a shock to all my cherished notions of a campaign! How sadly different to my ideas of the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! I remember well we first came up with the retiring forces on the morning of the 4th of November. The day broke heavily; masses of dark and weighty clouds drifted across the sky. The ground was soaked with rain, and a cold, chilling wind swept across the bleak plain, and moaned dismally in the dark pine-woods. Our party, which consisted of drafts from the Fiftieth, Twenty-seventh, and Seventy-first regiments, were stationed in a few miserable hovels on the side of the highroad from Madrid to Labeyos. By a mistake of the way we had missed a body of troops on the preceding day, and were now halted here in expectation of joining some of the corps retiring on the Portuguese frontier. Soon after daybreak a low rumbling sound, at first supposed to be the noise of distant cannonading, attracted our attention; but some stragglers coming up soon after, informed us that it proceeded from tumbrels and ammunition-waggons of Sir Lowry Cole's brigade, then on the march. The news was scarcely communicated, when the head of a column appeared topping the hill.
As they came nearer, we remarked that the men did not keep their ranks, but strayed across the road from side to side; some carried their muskets by the sling, others on the shoulder; some leaned on their companions, as though faint and sick; and many there were whose savage looks and bloated features denoted drunkenness. The uniforms were torn and ragged; several of the men had no shoes, and some even had lost their caps and shakos, and wore handkerchiefs bound round their heads. Among these the officers were almost undistinguishable; fatigue, hardship, and privation had levelled them with the men, and discipline scarcely remained in that disorganised mass. On they came, their eyes bent only on the long vista of road that lay before them. Some, silent and sad, trudged on side by side; others, maddened by drink or wild with the excitement of fever, uttered frightful and horrible ravings. Some flourished their bayonets, and threatened all within their reach; and denunciations of their officers and open avowals of desertion were heard on every side as they went. The bugle sounded a halt as the column reached the little hamlet where we were stationed; and in a few seconds the road and the fields at either side were covered with the figures of the men, who threw themselves down on the spot where they stood, in every posture that weariness and exhaustion could suggest.
All the information we could collect was that this force formed part of the rear-guard of the army; that the French under Marshal Soult were hotly in pursuit, having already driven in the cavalry outposts, and more than once throwing their skirmishers amongst our fellows. In a few minutes the bugle again sounded to resume the march; and however little disposed to yield to the dictates of discipline, yet old habit, stronger than even lawless insubordination, prevailed; the men rose, and falling in with some semblance of order, continued their way. Nothing struck me more in that motley mass of ragged uniform and patched clothing than the ferocious, almost savage, expression of the soldiers as they marched past our better equipped and better disciplined party. Their dark scowl betokened deadly hate; and I could see the young men of our detachment quail beneath the insulting ruffianism of their gaze. Every now and then some one or other would throw down his pack or knapsack to the ground, and with an oath asseverate his resolve to carry it no longer. Some even declared they would abandon their muskets; and more than one sat down by the wayside, preferring death or imprisonment from the enemy to the horrors and severities of that dreadful march.
The Highland regiments and the Guards alone preserved their former discipline; the latter, indeed, had only lately joined the army, having landed at Corunna a few weeks previously, and were perfect in every species of equipment. Joining myself to a group of their officers, I followed in the march, and was enabled to learn some tidings of my friend O'Grady, who, I was glad to hear, was only a few miles in advance of us, with his regiment.
Towards three o'clock we entered a dark pine-wood, through which the route continued for several miles. Here the march became extremely difficult, from the deep clayey soil, the worn and cut-up road, and more than all the torrents of rain that swept along the narrow gorge, and threw a darkness almost like night over everything. We plodded on gloomily and scarcely speaking, when suddenly the galloping of horses was heard in the rear, and we were joined by Sir Edward Paget, who, with a single aide-de-camp, rode up to our division. After a few hurried questions to the officer in command, he wheeled his horse round, and rode back towards the next column, which, from some accidental delay, was yet two miles in the rear. The sound of the horse's hoofs was still ringing along the causeway, when a loud shout, followed by the sharp reports of pistol-firing, mingled with the voice. In an instant all was as still as before, and save the crashing of the pine-branches and the beating rain, no other sound was heard.
Our conjectures as to the cause of the firing were just making, when an orderly dragoon, bareheaded and wounded, came up at the top of his horse's speed. The few hurried words he spoke in a half-whisper to our commanding officer were soon reported through the lines. Sir Edward Paget, our second in command, had been taken prisoner, carried away by a party of French cavalry, who were daring enough to dash in between the columns, which in no other retreat had they ventured to approach. The temerity of our enemy, added to our own dispirited and defenceless condition, was the only thing wanting to complete our gloom and depression, and the march was now resumed in the dogged sullenness of despair.
Day followed day, and all the miseries of our state but increased with time, till on the morning of the 17th the town of Ciudad Rodrigo came in view, and the rumour spread that stores of all kinds would be served out to the famished troops.
By insubordination and intemperance we had lost seven thousand men since the day the retreat from Burgos began, and although neither harassed by night marches nor excessive journeys, losing neither guns, ammunition, nor standards, yet was the memorable document addressed by Wellington to the officers commanding divisions but too justly merited, concluding in these words:—
'The discipline of every army, after a long and active campaign, becomes in some degree relaxed; but I am concerned to observe that the army under my command has fallen off in this respect to a greater degree than any army with which I have ever been, or of which I have ever read.'
CHAPTER LI. A MISHAP
If I began my career as a soldier at one of the gloomiest periods of our Peninsular struggle, I certainly was soon destined to witness one of the most brilliant achievements of our arms in the opening of the campaign of 1813.
On the 22nd of May the march began—that forward movement, for the hour of whose coming many a heart had throbbed, and many a bosom beat high. From Ciudad Rodrigo to the frontier our way led through the scenes of former glory; and if the veterans of the army exulted at once again beholding the battlefields where victory had crowned their arms, the new soldiers glowed with ambition to emulate their fame. As for myself, short as the period had been since I quitted England, I felt that my character had undergone a very great change; the wandering fancies of the boy had sobered down into the more fixed, determined passions of the man. The more I thought of the inglorious indolence of my former life, the stronger was now my desire to deserve a higher reputation than that of a mere lounger about a court, the military accompaniment of a pageant. Happily for me, I knew not at the time how few opportunities for distinction are afforded by the humble position of a subaltern; how seldom occasions arise where, amid the mass around him, his name can win praise or honour. I knew not this; and my reverie by day, my dream by night, presented but one image—that of some bold, successful deed, by which I should be honourably known and proudly mentioned, or my death be that of a brave soldier in the field of glory.
It may be remembered by my reader that in the celebrated march by which Wellington opened that campaign whose result was the expulsion of the French armies from the Peninsula, the British left, under the command of Graham, was always in advance of the main body. Their route traversed the wild and dreary passes of the Tras-os-Montes, a vast expanse of country, with scarcely a road to be met with, and but few inhabitants; the solitary glens and gloomy valleys, whose echoes had waked to no other sounds save those of the wild heron or the eagle, were now to resound with the thundering roll of artillery waggons, the clanking crash of cavalry columns, or the monotonous din of the infantry battalions, as from sunrise to sunset they poured along—now scaling the rugged height of some bold mountain, now disappearing among the wooded depths of some dark ravine.
Owing to a temporary appointment on the staff, I was continually passing and repassing between this portion of the army and the force under the immediate command of Lord Wellington. Starting at daybreak, I have set off alone through these wild untravelled tracts, where mountains rose in solemn grandeur, their dark sides wooded with the gloomy cork-tree, or rent by some hissing torrent whose splash was the only sound that broke the universal silence—now dashing on with speed across the grassy plain, now toiling along on foot, the bridle on my arm—I have seen the sun go down and never heard a human voice, nor seen the footsteps of a fellow-man; and yet what charms had those lonely hours for me, and what a crowd of blissful thoughts and happy images they yet bring back to me! The dark glen, the frowning precipice, the clear rivulet gurgling on amid the mossy stones, the long and tangled weeds that hung in festoons down some rocky cliff, through whose fissured sides the water fell in heavy drops into a little basin at its foot—all spoke to me of the happiest hours of my life, when, loved and loving, I wandered on the livelong day. How often, as the day was falling, have I sat down to rest beneath some tall beech, gazing on the glorious expanse of mountain and valley, hill and plain, and winding river—all beneath me; and how, as I looked, have my thoughts wandered away from those to many a far-off mile; and then what doubts and hopes would crowd upon met Was I forgotten? Had time and distance wiped away all memory of me? Was I as one she had never seen, or was she still to me as when we parted? In such moments as these how often have I recurred to our last meeting at the holy well—and still, I own it, some vague feeling of superstition has spoken hope to my heart, when reason alone had bid me despair.
It was at the close of a sultry day—the first of June; I shall not readily forget it—that, overcome by fatigue, I threw myself down beneath the shelter of a grove of acacias, and, tethering my horse with his bridle, fell into one of my accustomed reveries. The heat of the day, the drowsy hum of the summer insects, the very monotonous champ of my horse, feeding beside me—all conspired to make me sleepy, and I fell into a heavy slumber. My dreams, like my last-waking thoughts, were of home; but, strangely enough, the scenes through which I had been travelling, the officers with whom I was intimate, the wild guerilla chiefs who from time to time crossed my path or shared my bivouac, were mixed up with objects and persons many a mile away, making that odd and incongruous collection which we so often experience in sleep. A kind of low, unbroken sound, like the tramp of cavalry over grass, awoke me; but still, such was my drowsiness that I was again about to relapse into sleep, when the sound of a manly voice, singing at the foot of the rock beneath me, fully aroused me. I started up, and, peeping cautiously over the head of the cliff, beheld to my surprise and terror a party of French soldiers stretched upon the greensward around a fire. It was the first time I had ever seen the imperial troops, and notwithstanding the danger of my position, I felt a most unaccountable longing to creep nearer and watch their proceedings. The sounds I had heard at first became at this moment more audible; and on looking down the glen I perceived a party of about twenty dragoons cantering up the valley. They were dressed in the uniform of the Chasseur Légers, and in their light-blue jackets and silvered helmets had a most striking and picturesque effect.