Is there any enthusiasm like that of a young soldier setting forth on
his first campaign? High in heart and hope, what can equal the glorious
picture his fancy draws of fame and honor? Where will his imagination
stop in creating scenes of heroic daring or deeds of noble chivalry? In
such a mood Frank Dalton rode along amongst his comrades, with whom at
once he became the greatest favorite. Explain it how one will, or give
up the problem in despair, but there is no denying the fact, the Irish
character has more of high spirits, more buoyancy, than that of any
continental people. Deriving pleasure or amusement from incidents that
others accept as commonplace, making even the rubs and collisions of
life subservient to his playful humor, the Irishman has resources of
ready wit and brilliant fancy you may seek for in vain amongst Germans,
or Italians, or even Frenchmen.
The contrarieties of nature, the contradictions of character, that
puzzle politicians and drive political economists half crazy, are
delightful elements of social intercourse; and what makes the “nation”
ungovernable very frequently renders the “individual” the most
easy-tempered and manageable man of his set. What a boon was it, then,
to the gloomy, thoughtful Bohemian, to the dreary German, or the fitful,
passionate nature of the wild Hungarian, to chance upon one who had
moods of mind to suit them all, and stories of amusing thought that none
of them possessed! Frank was the delight of the regiment; and whether he
rode in the front or in the rear a group was sure to be gathered round
him, listening with eagerness to his stories, or enjoying the quaint
drollery which every passing object or event was sure to elicit.
Emerging at a bound from the petty annoyances and vexatious cares of his
humble position, with all its harassing of debt and poverty, the boy was
almost wild with delight at his newly won freedom. A thorough Dalton,
he forgot every strait and difficulty he had passed through, and thought
only of the present, or so much of the future as his hopes embellished.
Kate's generosity, too, made him feel rich, and he was not unwilling to
be thought so. That passion for ascendancy, that over-eagerness to make
a fair figure before the world, no matter at what material sacrifice
or at what heavy cost, was bred “in his very bone;” but so inveterately
Irish is it that if the nation should ever be visited by the income-tax,
there is not a man in the land who will not over-estimate his means for
the sake of the boast to the collector!
À wealthy comrade, if he be but free-handed, is sure to be popular on
a march. The fastidiousness that would stand aloof from more formal
attentions gives way here to the chances of the road; and civilities
that would elsewhere imply obligation are now the mere accidents of the
way.
To the honor of the Austrian service be it said, “Tuft-hunting” is not
to be found there. The officers of a regiment embrace representatives of
every class of the Empire, from the haughtiest names of Europe down to
the sons of the humblest peasant; and yet the _camaraderie_ is perfect.
Very probably there is nothing more contributes to this than the absence
of all secrecy as to each man's resources. The prince is known to be
rich; the son of the little burgher, or Amtmann, is equally known to
be poor. Nothing is expected from any above his means, and no disgrace
attaches to narrow fortune. If, therefore, Frank was not surrounded by
shrewd-witted adventurers, eager to make the most of his extravagance,
he was not the less exposed to the flattering acknowledgments his
generous habits evoked, and the vanity that comes of being distinguished
amongst one's fellows. To be sure, this was his father's failing, and
his grandfather's before him! Frank, then, entertained all the officers
of his squadron on the march, practising a hundred little devices and
surprises for them. Now, it was a cold luncheon, laid out in a wood
at noonday; now, it was a smoking supper in a village, where even the
generals were fain to munch “commissary rations.” Even the soldiers of
his “Zug” participated in this liberality, and many a flask of wine
was pledged to the health of the young lieutenant. As if to make him
perfectly happy, the old Count, his uncle, was obliged to hurry forward,
and thus Frank was relieved from the constraint of the only one whose
presence could have imposed reserve.
It was in the boundless freedom of this liberty, unchecked by prudence,
unrestrained by fear of consequences, Frank's lavish nature knew
no bounds. He wrote to Vienna for horses of high price; he ordered
carriages and liveries to be sent after him. The very surprise his
extravagance excited was an incense that he gloried in. How many a
generous nature has been wrecked by stupid admiration! how many a true
heart been corrupted by the vulgarity of notoriety!
“What will the Dalton do next?----what has the fellow in his head now?”
were surmises that he never heard without delight, and stimulated him
to new efforts to create astonishment. Ireland, too, so remote from
all their knowledge,--that far-away island,--furnished many a theme for
wonder, and he repeated, with ecstasy, several of his father's stories
of their former greatness and the barbaric splendor in which they lived.
How easy is self-deception, and what a strange cheat is that a man can
practise on himself! But so was it; he actually forgot the long years of
their obscure poverty, all their hard trials and distresses, the penury
of their daily life,--everything!--and could only think of Kate in all
her splendor, and himself in every indulgence of his fancy. And yet he
loved his father and Nelly too,--loved them both dearly. He would have
given worlds that the old man could have seen him as he rode at the head
of his men. He often felt his eyes grow dim as he fancied the burst of
delight it would have caused him. And poor Nelly! how he pictured her
features glowing with admiration, and yet trembling from agitation, for
he thought of all her warnings.
It is a singular fact, that in the short interval before the tremendous
events of the last great European convulsion, the aristocratic influence
seemed at its very highest point. Never in each State of the Continent
were the claims of family more regarded, nor the sway of proud names
more submissively recognized. Like the fever-flush before death, it
deceived many who beheld it! In the eyes of his astonished comrades,
young Dalton perfectly represented this character. Rich, well born,
brave, and eccentric, his seemed indeed an enviable lot in life.
Happy for him if the deception had stopped short with them! Unluckily,
however, it extended to himself, and he at last believed every fiction
that his own brain suggested.
In this wild delirium of the day-dream he rode along through the deep
glens and valleys of the Tyrol, along the banks of the rapid Inn,
through the glorious vale of Meran, and at last gained the great road
which, through Trent and Rovoredo, debouches on the Lago di Guarda. Here
a despatch from Vienna overtook them, with orders that a small party
should be sent off under some officer of intelligence to examine the
condition of the Stelvio Pass, the highest of all the Alpine roads of
Europe, and which, crossing from the South Tyrol, descends directly into
Italy by the Lake of Como.
Although it was still early, fresh snows were said to have fallen on
that elevated road, and it was an important question whether it were
longer practicable for the transit of artillery. Frank was delighted to
be selected for this duty,--a separate command, no matter bow small or
insignificant, had something adventurous and independent about it that
pleased him. There was a dash of peril, too, in the enterprise; for
already the Valteline and the Brianza were said to be overrun by bands
of patriot troops, raising contributions for the war, and compelling
others to take up arms.
Frank's instructions were, however, to examine and report upon the road,
and, avoiding all possible collision with the enemy, either to unite
with any Austrian brigade he could reach, or, if compelled, to retire
upon the Tyrol. Some of his comrades pitied him for being selected for
this lonely duty, others envied; but all regretted his departure,
and with many a warm wish for a speedy meeting, and many a pledge of
affection, they saw him depart on his enterprise.
In the small “Zug” of twenty men under his command, there was a young
Hungarian cadet, who, although of good family and birth, Frank remarked
never to have seen by any chance in society with the officers. Ravitzky
was a handsome, daring-looking fellow, with that expression of mingled
sadness and intrepidity in his face so peculiarly Hungarian. He was the
best horseman in the regiment, and a thorough soldier in his look and
carriage. It had often puzzled Frank why a youth with such advantages
had not been promoted. On the one or two occasions, however, on which he
asked the question, he had received evasive or awkward replies, and
saw that the inquiry was at the least an unpleasant theme among his
comrades.
Frank Dalton was well pleased at the opportunity now offered to know
something more of this young soldier, almost the only one under his
command who could speak any other language than Hungarian. Ravitzky,
however, although perfectly respectful in his manner, was cold and
reserved, showing no desire for an intimacy at which he might be
supposed to have felt proud. Without actually repelling, he seemed
determined to avoid nearer acquaintanceship, and appeared always happier
when he “fell back,” to exchange a few guttural words with his comrades,
than when called to “the front,” to converse with his officer.
Frank was piqued at all this; he saw that neither his rank, his supposed
wealth, nor his assumed position imposed upon the cadet; and yet these
were the very claims all his brother-officers had acknowledged. Amazed
at this wound to his self-love, he affected to forget him altogether,
or only remember him as one of the soldiers in his command. So far from
seeming displeased, Ravitzky appeared more at his ease than before, and
as if relieved from the worry of attentions that were distasteful to
him. This conduct completed the measure of Frank's indignation, and
he now began actually to hate the youth, on whom he practised all the
possible tyrannies of military discipline. These Ravitzky bore without
seeming to be aware of them, discharging every duty with an exactitude
that made punishment or even reproof impossible.
It is likely that if Frank had not been corrupted by all the adulation
he had so lately received,--if his self-esteem had not been stimulated
into an absurd and overweening vanity, he would have read this youth's
character aright, and have seen in him that very spirit of independence
which once he himself sought to display, albeit by a very different
road! Now, however, he received everything in a false light,--the
reserve was insolence, the coldness was disrespect, the punctuality in
duty a kind of defiance to him. How often he wished he had never taken
him! The very sight of him was now odious to his eyes.
Austrian troops enjoy so much of freedom on a march, that it is
difficult often for the most exacting martinet to seize opportunities
for the small tyrannies of discipline. Frank's ingenuity was now to be
tried in this way, and, it is but fair to confess, not unsuccessfully.
He compelled the men to appear each morning as smart as if on
parade,--their carbines in the bandoleers, and not slung at the
saddle,--he inspected every belt and strap and buckle, and visited even
the slightest infraction with a punishment Ravitzky accepted all this as
the ordinary routine of discipline, and never, even by a look, appeared
to resent it. Tyranny would seem to be one of the most insidious of
all passions, and, if indulged in little things, invariably goes on
extending its influences to greater ones.
At Maltz a new occasion arose for the tormenting influence of this
power, as the military post brought several letters from Vienna, one of
which was addressed to the cadet Ravitzky. It was about a week before
Frank was indignantly complaining to his sister of the shameless
violation of all feeling exhibited in opening and reading every
soldier's letter. He was eloquently warm in defending such humble
rights, and declaimed on the subject with all the impassioned fervor
of an injured man, and yet so corrupting is power, so subtle are the
arguments by which one establishes differences and distinctions, that
now he himself saw nothing strange nor severe in exercising this harsh
rule towards another.
He was out of temper, too, that morning. The trim and orderly appearance
of the men gave no opportunity of a grumble, and he strutted along on
foot in front of his party, only anxious for something to catch at. On
turning suddenly around, he saw Ravitzky with his open letter before
him, reading. This was a slight breach of discipline on a march where
infractions far greater are every day permitted; but it offered another
means of persecution, and he called the cadet imperiously to the front,
“Are you aware, cadet,” said he, “of the general order regarding the
letters of all who serve in the ranks?”
“I am, Herr Lieutenant,” said the other, flushing deeply, as he saluted
him.
“Then you knew that you were committing a breach of discipline in
opening that letter?”
“As the letter is written in Hungarian, Herr Lieutenant, I felt that to
show it to you could be but a ceremony.”
“This explanation may satisfy you, sir; it does not suffice for me. Hand
me your letter.”
Ravitzky grew scarlet at the command, and for an instant he seemed as
though about to dispute it; but duty overcame every personal impulse,
and he gave it.
“I see my own name here,” cried Frank, as the one word legible to his
eyes caught him. “How is this?”
Ravitzky grew red and pale in a second, and then stood like one
balancing a difficulty in his own mind.
“I ask again, how comes a mention of me in this document?” cried Frank,
angrily.
“The letter, Herr Lieutenant, is from my cousin, who, aware that I was
serving in the same troop with you, offered to make me known to you.”
“And who is this cousin with whom I am so intimate?” said Frank,
proudly.
“Count Ernest Walstein,” said the other, calmly.
“What, he is your cousin? Are you really related to Walstein?”
The other bowed slightly in assent
“Then how is it, with such family influence, that you remain a cadet?
you have been two years in the service?”
“Nearly four years, Heir Lieutenant,” was the quiet reply.
“Well, four years, and still unpromoted; how is that?”
Ravitzky looked as if unable to answer the question, and seemed confused
and uneasy.
“You have always been a good soldier. I see it in your 'character roll;'
there is not one punishment recorded against you.”
“Not one!” said the cadet, haughtily.
“There must, then, be some graver reason for passing you over?”
“There may be,” said the other, with a careless pride in his manner.
“Which you know?” said Frank, interrogatively.
“Which I guess at,” said Ravitzky.
“Here is your letter, cadet,” said Frank, banding it back to him. “I see
you will not make a confidant of me, and I will not force a confession.”
Ravitzky took the letter, and, saluting with respect, was about to fall
back, when Frank said,----
“I wish you would be frank with me, and explain this mystery.”
“You call it mystery, sir?” said the other, in astonishment “You are an
Irishman born, and call this a mystery?”
“And why not? What has my birth to do with it?”
“Simply that it might have taught the explanation. Is it truth, or am
I deceived in believing that your nation is neither well received nor
kindly met by the prouder country with which you are united; and
that, save when you stoop to blush at your nationality, you are never
recognized as claimant for either office or advancement?”
“This may have been the case once to some extent,” said Frank,
doubtingly, “but I scarcely think such differences exist now.”
“Then you are more fortunate than we,” said Ravitzky.
“But I see men of your nation the very highest in military rank,--the
very nearest to the Sovereign?”
“Their's be the shame, then,” said Ravitzky. “There are false hearts in
every land.”
“This is a puzzle to me I cannot comprehend.”
“I 'll tell you how to understand it all, and easily, too, Herr
Lieutenant. Take this letter and forward it to the Council of War;
declare that Cadet Ravitzky acknowledged to yourself that he was a
Hungarian, heart and soul, and, save the eagle on his chako, had nothing
of Austria about him. Add, that a hundred thousand of his countrymen
are ready to assert the same; and see if they will not make _you_ an
Ober-lieutenant, and send me to Moncacs for life.” He held out the
letter, as he spoke, for Frank to take, and looked as proudly defiant as
if daring him to the act.
“You cannot suppose I would do this?”
“And yet it is exactly your duty, and what you took a solemn oath to
perform not a week back.”
“And if there be such disaffection in the troops, how will they behave
before an enemy?” asked Frank, eagerly.
“As they have always done; ay, even in this very campaign that now
threatens us, where men are about to strike a blow for liberty, you 'll
see our fellows as foremost in the charge as though the cause at stake
was not their own.”
“Ravitzky, I wish you had told me nothing of all this.”
“And yet you forced the confession from me. I told Walstein, over and
over, that you were not suited for our plans. You rich men have too
much to lose to venture on so bold a game; he thought otherwise, and all
because you were an Irishman!”
“But I have scarcely ever seen Ireland. I know nothing of its grievances
or wrongs.”
“I believe they are like our own,” said Ravitzky. “They tell me that
your people, like ours, are warm, passionate, and impatient; generous
in their attachments, and terrible in their hatred. If it be so, and if
England be like Austria, there will be the same game to play out there
as here.”
Frank grew thoughtful at these words. He recalled all that the Abbé
D'Esmonde had said to him about the rights of a free people and the
duties of citizenship, and canvassed within his own mind the devoirs of
his position; meanwhile Ravitzky had fallen back to the men and taken
his place in the ranks.
“They'll not compromise me before an enemy,” thought Frank; “that I may
rely on.” And with this trustful assurance he mounted and rode slowly
forward, deeply sunk in thought, and far less pleasantly than was
his wont to be. From all the excitement of his late life, with its
flatteries and fascinations, he now fell into a thoughtful mood, the
deeper that it was so strongly in contrast to what preceded it The
greater interests that now flashed across his mind made him feel the
frivolity of the part he had hitherto played. “Ravitzky is not older
than I am, and yet how differently does _he_ speculate on the future!
_His_ ambitions are above the narrow limits of selfish advancement, and
the glory _he_ aims at is not a mere personal distinction.”
This was a dangerous theme, and the longer he dwelt upon it the more
perilous did it become.
The snow lay in deep drifts in many parts of the mountain, and the
progress of the little party became daily slower as they ascended.
Frequently they were obliged to dismount and lead their horses for
miles, and at these times Frank and Ravitzky were always together. It
was intimacy without any feeling of attachment on either side, and yet
they were drawn towards each other by some strange mysterious sympathy.
Their conversation ranged over every topic, from the great events which
menaced Europe to the smallest circumstances of personal history; and in
all Frank found the cadet his superior. It was not alone that his views
were higher, more disinterested, and less selfish, but his judgments
were calmer and better weighed.
“_You_ want to be a count of the Empire, and a grand cross of every
order of Europe,” said Ravitzky one day to Frank, at the close of a
rather warm discussion. “_I_ want to see my country free, and live an
humble soldier in the ranks.” This bold avowal seemed to separate them
still more widely, and it was plain that each regarded the other with
distrust and reserve. It was after some days of this distance that Frank
endeavored to restore their intimacy by leading Ravitzky to speak of
himself, and at last ventured to ask him how it came that he still
remained a cadet, while others, in every way inferior to him, were made
officers.
“I have refused promotion some half-dozen times over,” said the other.
“As a kaiser-cadet, my time of service will expire in a few months
hence; then I shall be free to leave the service. Were I to accept my
grade as an officer, I should have to take an oath of fidelity to the
Emperor, which I would not, and pledge myself to a course that I could
not do.”
“Then they probably know the reasons for which you have declined
promotion?”
“Assuredly they can guess them,” was the curt reply.
“You are a strange fellow, Ravitzky, and I scarcely understand you.”
“And yet there is nothing less a mystery than my conduct or my motives,”
rejoined he, proudly. “My father is a noble, high in the service and
confidence of the Emperor, and although a Magyar by birth, is Austrian
by choice and predilection. My sympathies are with my countrymen. In
obedience to his wishes I have entered this service; in justice to
myself, I mean to quit it when I can with honor.”
“And for what, or where?” asked Frank.
“Who knows?” said he, sorrowfully. “Many of our nation have gone over
the seas in search of a new land. Already we are almost as destitute of
a home as the Poles. But why talk of these things, Herr Lieutenant? I
may be led to say that which it would be your duty to report; you ought,
perhaps, as it is, to denounce me. Have no fears; my life would always
be spared; my family's fidelity would save _me_. This is one of the
glorious privileges of birth,” cried he, scornfully. “The 'fusillade'
will be the sentence for one of those poor fellows yonder; but you and I
are too well born for justice to reach.”
“Assuredly, I 'll not quarrel with the privilege!” said Frank, laughing.
“And yet, if I were as rich and as great as you are,” said Ravitzky, “it
is exactly what I should do! With your fortune and your rank you want
nothing from king or kaiser. Who, then, would not strive for the higher
rewards that only a whole nation can confer?”
Frank blushed deeply at the allusion to his supposed wealth, but had not
the courage to refute it. He, however, sought an opportunity to turn the
conversation to other channels, and avoided, for the future, all mention
of every theme of politics or party. The mischief, however, was done. He
brooded forever in secret over all the Hungarian had told him; while
old memories of fresh wrongs, as narrated by his father long ago, kept
recurring and mingling with them, till not only the themes excluded
other thoughts, but that he felt the character of his own ambition
changing, and new and very different hopes succeeding to his former
ones.