lady. "Oh, won't you open it? Do open it, Miss B.," said numerous
voices. "Let me help you"--from others. "But what is it?" said Mrs. B.;
"is it anything that will break? Be careful; you don't know what it is."
"It's only a silk dress, and some lace trimming." "Well," said one of
the culprits, "whatever it is, they have wrapped it up well; I think
this is the tenth paper I have taken off." "Still more to take off,"
said another. "Very extraordinary! What can it be? I'm sure it's not a
silk dress; I feel something much firmer and stiffer than a silk dress."
"I tell you it's only a silk dress," reiterated Miss B. At last the
boldest of the conspirators took off the last envelope of gauze paper,
and exhibited _something_. As he did so he said to poor Miss B., "Surely
this is not a silk dress, is it, Miss B.?" "Oh, heavens!" screamed the
astonished and horrified lady, running off at once into my wife's
bedroom--"Oh, heavens! I shall never recover it. Such an insult!"' 'But
what _did_ the parcel contain after all?' inquired the two magnates.
'Ah! what did it contain?' asked several voices. 'What do you guess?'
returned the Colonel. 'Oh, we can't guess; we give it up. Pray tell
us'--from all sides. 'Well, then, what do you say to a pair of leather
male garments, a pair of buck-skins--only a pair of buck-skins? I can't
describe them by the popular denomination; there would be breaches in
my good manners if I did.'
While Colonel B. was running on in this way, the company, and especially
the two young lords, were convulsed with laughter. As soon as Lord C.
could speak, he said, with tears in his eyes, 'Oh, B., you'll be the
death of us if you go on in this way. E. declares that his sides are so
sore that it almost makes him cry to laugh any more, and I'm just as
bad. But who suggested this delicate compliment to Miss B.? I must have
a glass of wine with him.' 'And I'll join you,' said his friend. 'Why,
the truth is,' said D., 'there were three of us engaged in the matter,
but which of us first thought of the leathers I can't say.' 'It is
evidently a divided honour,' said the Colonel. 'I and Elphinstone will
drink to you three,' said Lord C., and 'Hurrah for the buck-skins!
hurrah for the buck-skins!' was shouted on every side.
* * * * *
'I think it's high time for us to depart,'said Lady Jervois; 'I'm not
sure that we haven't stayed too long already. At any rate, it must be
near eight bells.' 'I agree with you, Lady Jervois,' said Mrs. Smythe;
'but really I did not anticipate that Dr. Ticklemore would be so minute
in his detail. I can't help suspecting that he has been taking rather
unwarrantable liberties with his brother's memoranda, and that his
description of poor Miss B. is little more than a mischievous libel on
that ill-used lady.' 'I'm sure, Dr. Ticklemore,' said Miss Perkins,
'that no correct unmarried lady would go on as you try to make out that
Miss B. did.' 'Really, Miss Perkins and ladies all,' replied the Doctor,
'I do assure you I have taken no liberties with my brother's memoranda,
and not for the world would I dream of taking any with such a lady as
Miss B.' 'Good-night, gentlemen; good-night, Dr. Ticklemore, with thanks
for your narrative, or at least for part of it; but we must put you on
your good behaviour for the future, or we cannot make a part of your
audience.' 'Why, I haven't said anything that's not proper, have I?'
'No, no,' said Captain Ward; 'any exuberance in his descriptions he'll
avoid in future, I'm sure. You pledge yourself, mind that, Ticklemore,
on my guarantee.' 'Oh, certainly!' returned the culprit; 'I'm pledged,
pawned, verbally and corporeally, to avoid all exuberance, though what
kind of crime that is I don't quite know; _but it's all the same_,'
_sotto voce_. 'Well, remember; you are only to be honoured with an
audience on the promise of future good behaviour.' 'Aye, aye, sir,' said
the nautical Esculapius.
* * * * *
'Well, now that the ladies are amongst the departed,' said Dr. T., 'I
can finish the sketch my brother has given us of Colonel B.'s sayings
and doings relative to Miss B. and the present of the leathers. Mrs. B.,
though she enjoyed the joke as much as any of the conspirators, took
compassion on the wounded sensibilities of the lady, made her pass the
night at the house, and kept her there as a guest for some days; in
short, she did all she could to soothe and console. She would not allow
anyone who called to be admitted, and when, after a day or two of
seclusion, the Colonel met Miss B. in the drawing-room, he spoke to her
just as if nothing had occurred to ruffle her feelings; he was ever kind
and courteous to everyone, and unwilling to give pain. He would not,
therefore, have made any allusion to what had recently occurred, but
Miss B. felt her wrongs were too great to be passed over in silence, and
her sorrows were too weighty to be repressed. With a flood of tears she
referred to the outrage, the indignity, the insult that had been offered
to her; it was cruel, it was unmanly it was cowardly, it was
disgraceful. By-and-by she ran herself out, and began to speak of less
poignant afflictions. It was not enough that she should be disappointed
in receiving the dress she had been so long expecting, but she must, in
addition, be subject to such vile treatment. (Sob after sob.) "Why don't
you say something to soothe her distress, Dick?" said Mrs. B., "you can
comfort so well if you will." "Can I?" said the Colonel. "_C'est bien_,
madame." Then turning to Miss B., he said, "Indeed I sympathize with you
deeply. Such a wicked present as you received would naturally cause much
disappointment. Empty compliments always do cause disappointment; and
then to have to appear before your friends without your dress must have
given you deep mortification, although it is said that 'beauty unadorned
is then adorned the most.'" "Dick, Dick," interposed Mrs. B., "how can
you go on so?" "How could Miss B. go on so, did you say? Well, how she
could is difficult to understand." "Oh, stop, will you," said Mrs. B.,
"you're a horrid fellow; you won't even listen to all Miss B.'s troubles
and distresses." "What, anything more," asked the Colonel, "beside the
costume of the Buffs, or the want of costume, that vexed her so much?"
"Hold that mischievous tongue of yours and listen. Miss B. will be
obliged when she leaves our roof to go and live in the Fort, because her
nephew, Mr. H., has been ordered to reside there for the present." "And
if it be so," replied Colonel B., "I don't see any serious hardship or
misfortune in it." "No; but Miss B. regrets that she will be three miles
from her friends; and there within the walls of the Fort she will have
nothing to amuse her, nothing except the goats and kids, sheep and rams,
and lambs, and the bare walls to look at." "Ah, now," said the Colonel,
"I admit she is to be pitied; to have nothing to amuse her, nothing even
to look at, except the naked walls and ramparts, is a sad and melancholy
occupation. I feel for you deeply, Miss B."
'This meagre sketch of Colonel B. would be more imperfect than it is if
nothing was said of his wonderful power as an actor. This, however, my
brother passes over very slightly, and it is much to be regretted, as in
some characters he was really inimitable, unapproachable. All the
Falstaffs that the stage has ever seen were not so perfect in the
conception and exhibition of the matchless wit of the fat old knight as
Colonel B.'s. Many bigger and lustier men, properly stuffed out, would
no doubt exhibit the figure which Shakespeare has given to the hoary
sinner more adequately, but no one, I believe, ever came up to the
Colonel in the rendering of every sentence and every word spoken by
Falstaff. He made the author's meaning plain and intelligible to almost
everyone; his superlative acting explained what would otherwise have
escaped notice, or have been misunderstood, or not understood at all. To
read the play after having witnessed his portraiture of Falstaff was
like looking at a butterfly's wing with the naked eye, and then viewing
it under the microscope. My brother has some rather amusing remarks on
the Colonel's powers and high qualities as an actor in other characters;
he mentions Tyke, Alapod, Touchstone, and many others, in all of which
Colonel B. was very admirable. But a Bangalore audience, at the time to
which my brother's memoranda refers, was little fitted to appreciate the
higher walks of histrionic art. Farces, Bombastes Furioso, and such kind
of entertainments were better suited to their mental calibre. He
illustrates his meaning by the following anecdote: The Colonel's acting,
though so truly admirable, had never elicited much applause until in one
of his characters (I forget which) he had to bray like a donkey. This
performance elicited uproarious and long-continued applause. The
Colonel's only remark after this was, "He knew now what suited a
Bangalore audience." This closes the sketch I have consulted of this
highly gifted and talented man. Both he and the audience that excited
his contempt have passed away, almost all of them: but all who ever knew
Colonel B. may well say, "When shall we look upon his like again?" Yet
though I am without the sources of information that I have till now
relied on, my memory would rise up in judgment against me if I did not
say a few words in illustration of the undeviating kindness of heart,
active benevolence, and unrivalled ability which so often prompted him
to stand forth as the defender of those whom misfortune, or even
momentary culpability, had brought into grave trouble and danger. I
shall never forget the impression made on me merely by reading his
masterly defence of poor Captain E., who was brought before a
court-martial for being drunk while on main guard. I do not call to mind
all the circumstances of the case, but I remember the prosecutor was
Major S., then commanding H.M.'s 39th Regiment, and a noble regiment it
was. The facts connected with the charge were chiefly as follows:
Captain O. deposed that he visited the guard at the usual hour, and the
prisoner came forward to give his report, but fell down on the ground
before he was near enough to hand it to him; that he called to the
sergeant of the guard, who handed him the report. Captain O. then asked
the sergeant if he had seen what had occurred; the sergeant replied that
he had seen it all. Captain O. then rode to the quarters of the officers
commanding the cantonment, and at once reported the circumstance.
Colonel L. then and there placed the defaulter under arrest, and ordered
Captain G., the next on the roster for that duty, to relieve Captain E.
immediately. These facts were all duly set forth in the various counts
into which the charge was subdivided, and were all proved by _viva voce_
evidence in court. The prisoner had, by Colonel B.'s advice, reserved
his defence until everything that could be urged against him had been
stated, and, as it seemed, fully substantiated; he then recorded the
plea "Not guilty," adding that he had placed his defence in the hands of
Colonel B., who had kindly offered his assistance. The Court having
granted Colonel B. permission to plead for the prisoner, the Colonel,
having thanked the Court for having conceded to him the position he had
sought, commenced his address something to this effect: As a British
officer, he felt that discipline, the strictest discipline, was the life
of an army, the great distinction between a _mob_ and a _regular force_,
and that it must be enforced on all occasions, and under every possible
condition; that the pain and grief that a generous heart must sometimes
feel in carrying it into execution must never for an instant be allowed
to interfere or suspend, or to mitigate, the penalties or punishments
awarded by military law for military offences. "With these sentiments
firmly fixed in my mind, I should be the last man in the army to come
forward to advocate any cause, or support any plea, that would in the
remotest way tend to undermine or weaken or impair discipline. But, sir,
discipline is not opposed to justice; discipline is the strong arm of
justice; discipline without justice could not long exist, for then it
would be injustice, and injustice would be a breach of discipline.
Discipline and justice, then, must go together; they cannot be
disunited. These principles, sir, are as old as the world, and as fixed
as the foundations of the world; and, sir, in making this appeal to you,
and to every member of this Court of Honour, I feel as sure of the
response as if I saw every generous heart laid bare before me. You will
all, without a doubt, uphold discipline, but you will not forget that to
uphold discipline you must do justice; and to do justice you must take
nothing for granted, you must insist on having proofs, undoubted,
undeniable proofs; no suspicions or suspicious circumstances must be
accepted as proofs. Did you, or could you, accept any such as proofs,
you would not do justice, and consequently would not uphold discipline.
If any one count of the charge cannot be distinctly and unequivocally
proved, that count is doubtful, and the law declares that when there is
a doubt the accused is to have the benefit of it. But why do I speak of
law? Your own feelings will tell you most emphatically that you cannot
condemn when you are in doubt. Now to apply these principles. The
prisoner is charged with being drunk on duty--an unpardonable crime in a
military point of view--and you have had it in evidence on oath that
this unfortunate officer was so incapable that, when advancing to give
in his report, he fell on the ground. This has been stated on oath by
Captain O. and Sergeant Maguire, both witnesses of unimpeachable credit,
and both without any adverse bias or leaning. But, Mr. President and
gentlemen, we must not forget that opinions are not proofs. To prove
that the fall and the incapability resulted from drunkenness we must
have more than opinions. First, we must inquire if any liquor or spirit
was drunk at the guard-room. The prisoner admits that he drank while on
guard the quantity that you see is absent out of this small flask. It
was nearly full when he left home, and the Sergeant found it on the
table in the guard-room, with this quantity in it; this he has sworn to.
Thus it is clear that Captain E. did not, out of this flask, while on
guard, drink more than one glass of brandy, and he was there for six
hours. The Sergeant has further deposed that no liquor except that
brought in the flask by the prisoner was brought into the guard-room by
any other person. How, then, is the drunkenness to be accounted for? One
glass of brandy taken in six hours will not make any man drunk. There is
the fall and the incapability, but one glass of brandy in the time
stated will not account for these. If they cannot be attributed to
drunkenness there must be some other cause. The prisoner will, if
cross-examined, confirm what I have now to state. During the day of that
night when Captain E. was to remain on guard, he had suffered more or
less from neuralgia of the left side of the face; he has, I may now
state, ever since he was in Burmah, suffered at times from this
complaint, and on account of this wearing and painful affection he has
been obliged to take morphine and other narcotics to a great extent. He
also admits that he had at times taken alcoholic stimulants in
considerable quantity, and that shortly before going on guard he had
done so. While on guard he further admits that he took several doses of
morphine. To the combined effects of these remedies he attributed the
fall and the incapability; he was overcome by the action of stimulants
and narcotics, but surely this is not drunkenness? Dr. MacD. is also
prepared to state on oath that he is fully aware of the fact that
Captain E. has for a long time past suffered from neuralgia, more or
less severe, and that he has on many occasions prescribed for him on
account of it. These circumstances, I submit, relieve the case of its
worst features, and I confidently appeal to the gallant officer who has
felt it to be his duty to bring the charge into Court, whether he does
not now feel that the case wears a new aspect? Major S. generously and
frankly admits that he is not now so certain of the prisoner's guilt as
he was when he first took up the case. Nothing less was to be expected
from his well-known character, zealous as he is that the reputation of
his far-famed regiment, _primus in Indus_, should remain unsullied and
unspotted. Earnest as he is to preserve its honour and its discipline,
he is yet too magnanimous, too just, too truthful, to press his charge
unduly. He has admitted that he is not now so certain as he was. What do
those noble words amount to? Do they not admit a doubt--a doubt
entertained by a frank and lofty mind not shut against conviction? He
says his opinion is not to decide. No, we know full well for what
purpose this Court is now sitting; we know that a wife and family are
now enduring the agony of suspense; we know that degradation and
disgrace, nay, future poverty and misery, depend on your decision; we
know that though you, too, are zealous and eager to uphold discipline,
you are not forgetful of justice; we know that, not less magnanimous and
truthful than Major S., you will, like him, not refuse to admit a doubt,
where doubt really is; we know to whom we trust, and if trust cannot be
reposed in such an assembly of British officers, it is nowhere to be
found in the world! May I say one word more? May that Great and Just
Being before whom we must all one day appear, direct and guide you so
that your rest may be sweet and unbroken, and never be disturbed by the
thought that you refused to a poor suffering brother that justice
tempered with mercy which we all shall one day need, and all look to
obtain, through merits not our own."
A hum and buzz of applause ran through the Court; then the President and
members retired, and there was an interval of silence and suspense.
Whispers were the only mode of communication employed. After nearly
twenty minutes had elapsed, a member of the Court opened the door and
directed Captain E. to attend him, that the sentence of the Court might
be communicated by the President. It is not necessary to trace all the
steps or forms adopted by military tribunals; all that is needful to
record is that after a severe admonition, and the loss of some steps in
rank, Captain E.'s sword was restored to him. Everyone in Court
congratulated him warmly on his escape. The poor man seemed stunned; he
could only say, 'Thank you, thank you.'
Colonel B., who was overwhelmed by compliments and praises, as soon as
he could disengage himself from the General and Major S., came up to
Captain E., and hurrying him into his carriage, drove him away amidst
the cheers of the assembly. But words are wanting to describe the
meeting of the wife and the husband. The lady wished to throw herself at
Colonel B.'s feet, but he would not suffer it. He placed her in her
husband's arms, and then left them with their mingled benedictions
making sweet music in his ears, and gratitude too great for utterance
streaming from their eyes. Colonel B. directed his coachman to go slowly
round the racecourse before he drove home. Is there a living man who
does not envy him the luxury of that solitary drive? And what are the
compliments and praises of the world compared to the approval of that
still small voice that God has placed within our breasts?
Let us leave the excellent man of whom we have been speaking to the
sweet converse with that silent voice. That the rewards he thus
experienced were inexpressibly dear to him is proved by his practice
through life. He stood forth on every possible occasion as the champion
of distress, making his unrivalled talents the servants of his humanity,
and the ministers of relief and safety to many who, like Captain E., had
none but him to help them.
Who, then, knowing these things, can doubt that the soldier with his
motto, "En avant," has found the path to realms beyond the sky, to
fields of glory unprofaned by blood and death, but yet where few shall
go before him?
FOOTNOTE:
[2] To those who have not been in India it is necessary to explain that
the word 'chatty' means in the Tamul language an earthen vessel or pot,
which, combined with the fact of the old gentleman's taciturnity, being
thus a silent receptacle of the flow of wit, made the remark doubly
telling.
No. IV.
THE DELIGHTS OF INDIAN MUSIC.
The ladies, who were present the following evening when Dr. T. had
narrated Colonel B.'s exertions on behalf of Captain E., were loud in
his praise, and in their acknowledgments of the gratification they had
experienced. Lady Jervois said, 'We can now thank you, Dr. Ticklemore,
without any reservation, for assuredly you have afforded us a glimpse of
a very fine character; but, like a beautiful dissolving view, you have
not allowed us to dwell long enough on the picture.' 'Most true, Lady
Jervois,' remarked Mrs. Smythe, 'we have not often the opportunity of
contemplating such various gifts, such high intelligence, and such
nobleness of heart united in one individual. I am grieved that you have
not more to tell us of so charming a man.' 'Bella and I,' said Miss
Perkins, 'are both of us quite in love with Colonel B.; he must have
been truly a delightful man.' 'Well, ladies, I am glad that my sketch of
Colonel B. has not been unacceptable. I have a few words to say of
Colonel MacC., who was a dashing soldier and a fine-looking man. These
anecdotes, for they are nothing more, will just fill up the short time
before we separate for the evening, and conclude the extracts I have
made from my brother's memoranda, having reference to that glorious old
Peninsular regiment, the 13th Dragoons. Colonel MacC. was at the time
referred to second in command, but he had originally stood before
Colonel B., being his senior in military rank, and his name was first on
the list for purchase, and both officers had lodged the sum required.
Unfortunately for Colonel MacC., his father, on account of some
temporary pressure, withdrew the purchase-money; and, still more
unfortunately for him, during the term of withdrawal, which was to have
been but a few months, the colonelcy fell vacant, and, as a matter of
course, the officer whose money was ready was gazetted as
colonel-in-command. This occurrence was unfortunate, not only for
Colonel MacC., but for all parties concerned, and for the regiment, as
in spite of every effort on the part of Colonel B., it caused something
like a split, a division into two parties, and it produced a soreness
and estrangement between the two senior officers. Military usage, and
the polished manners of the higher classes, could neither support nor
altogether conceal this feeling, which occasionally peeped out--at
least, on the part of Colonel MacC., never on the part of Colonel B. It
is true that he was the winner, and the old saying, "Those may laugh who
win," was made good--not literally, certainly, for Colonel B. was far
too polished to do anything of the kind, or to show anything in the
shape of exultation; still the former cordiality was gone, and a studied
politeness obtained in its place.
'Between these two gallant soldiers, there were other points of
difference, which, while they were fast friends, were never referred to;
but now that these mutual feelings were altered, these springs of strife
did sometimes make themselves evident. A short explanation of what these
were appears to be called for. Colonel B. was what the world terms a
_novus homo_. It is true that his father was a talented professional
man; it is true that his sister, by the attraction of her wit, grace,
and beauty, coupled with a spotless name, had married an earl; and it
is true that he himself was a colonel of Dragoons; but all this, which
only proved that he and his belongings were far above their neighbours
in much that was most admirable and estimable, went for nothing against
the one overpowering fact that Colonel MacC. was a man of family. He
could trace back his family name I don't know how far, his clan was
mentioned in very old records, and he himself claimed an unbroken
descent (though this, it seems, other gentlemen of the same name
disputed) from one Roderick MacC., termed the "Red-handed," from the
fact that his hands were never long free from this peculiar colour. This
very noble gentleman was at feud with several other clans, and his
exploits in the way of storming their strongholds, extirpating the
former possessors, or burning them altogether in their dwellings after
the storm, were greatly celebrated and admired by all his friends and
dependents; while by his neighbours of some other name he was as greatly
feared and dreaded. The achievements of this most interesting character
were lightened and alleviated by lifting cattle, or sweeping a
particular district of everything movable.