ON FURLOUGH.
Nicholson's plan, which he proceeded to carry out, was to pay a visit
to Egypt, where he was desirous to see Thebes, Cairo, and the Pyramids,
and thence journey home by way of Constantinople and Vienna. He did
not intend to stay long in any of these places, but circumstances were
against him. At both the Turkish and Austrian capitals he was detained
by adventures which appealed strongly to his chivalrous nature. The
account of these comes to us through Sir John Kaye, to whom Nicholson's
mother told the story.
At the time that Nicholson arrived in Constantinople, early in the New
Year of 1850, the city held a notable prisoner. This was Louis
Kossuth, the Hungarian patriot, whom the Austrians had driven into
exile. Owing to British influence, the revolutionary leader's asylum
in Turkey was rendered safe for the time, but a movement was set on
foot by his friends to smuggle him out of the country and convey him to
America. Such a project received all Nicholson's sympathies, and when
a friend of his--an Englishman who had married a Hungarian lady and
served in the Magyar army--enlisted his help, he readily placed himself
at the other's service.
The scheme was a simple one. Every day Kossuth took a ride accompanied
by a few Turkish soldiers, the route being changed on each occasion.
It was accordingly arranged that he should choose to ride on a
particular day in the direction of the sea-coast. At a certain spot
the conspirators were to await him and his escort, overpower the
latter, and carry Kossuth on board an American frigate which was to be
at hand.
Unhappily for the patriot, a lady who was in the secret revealed it to
a bosom friend, who in turn confided in another. In a short time it
came to the knowledge of the Austrian ambassador. Representations were
at once made to the Turkish authorities, who redoubled their vigilance,
and the plot fell through.
The same friend, "General G----," through whom Nicholson had been
interested in the attempt to free Kossuth, now asked the young officer
to do him another favour. His wife, a Hungarian lady, as has been
said, was imprisoned in an Austrian fortress. So vigorous was the
confinement that she was kept in ignorance of her husband's fate, and
the General was anxious to send her news of his escape and present
whereabouts. Nicholson promptly undertook to convey a letter to the
unfortunate lady, should it be possible to do so, and started off
immediately for the fortress.
On arriving at his destination, he marched boldly up to the gate of the
citadel, demanding to see the officer of the guard.
"I am Major Nicholson of the Indian Army," he said, "and I shall be
greatly obliged if you will allow me to see my friend, Madame G----."
The request was undoubtedly an irregular one, but the Austrian officer,
after a little demur, courteously gave his permission. Nicholson was
then conducted to the prisoner's cell and told that he could have five
minutes' conversation, no longer. As soon as the door had closed
behind him, and he and Madame G---- were alone, he pulled off one of
his boots and drew out the letter, saying, "You have just five minutes
to read it, and give me any message for your husband."
[Illustration: "You have just five minutes to read it, and give me any
message for your husband."]
There was no time for the poor lady to express her gratitude as fully
as she would have liked. Having read the welcome letter, she told her
visitor what she wished him to say to her husband, and then--the five
minutes having expired--Nicholson departed.
"These two incidents," says Sir John Kaye, "speak for themselves.
There is no lack, thank God, of kind men, brave men, or good men among
us, but out of them all how many would have done these two things for
'his neighbour'? How many respectable men would at this moment condemn
them both?"
What Henry Lawrence and his noble wife thought of the Kossuth
enterprise was expressed in a letter from the latter some months later.
"You can hardly believe," she wrote, "the interest and anxiety with
which we watched the result of your projected deed of chivalry. . . .
When I read of your plan my first thought was about your mother,
mingled with the feeling that I should not grudge my own son in such a
cause."
After having performed his mission, Nicholson made his way to London,
where he found his mother awaiting him at Sir James Hogg's town house.
It was now the month of April. The rest of the year he spent in
sight-seeing, visiting his old home at Lisburn, and looking up various
relatives in Ireland and England. He found time, however, to make a
journey to St. Petersburg, where he was much impressed by a grand
review of troops by the Tsar. This opportunity to study the Russian
military system gave him considerable satisfaction, as he had already
devoted some attention to the French and Prussian armies. But what
struck him most was a recent Prussian invention, the needle-gun, which
he saw would be the arm of the future. In strong terms he urged the
importance of introducing this weapon in place of the old-fashioned
muskets then in use, but his counsel was unheeded.
At the end of 1851 Nicholson bade good-bye to his mother, and set off
on his return journey to India. His friend, Herbert Edwardes, had
preceded him thither some months earlier, taking with him his
newly-wedded wife. To Nicholson Edwardes had said before he left, "If
your heart meets one worthy of it, return not alone," but the advice
was not followed. Nicholson, with all the fascination which his
personality exerted over women, gave no indication of being susceptible
to the grand passion, and he went forth to take up the great task that
lay before him single-handed.