The next day, as we were riding together over the Downs, I saw a
deserter taken; and was so affected with the poor wretch's look of
distress as to have burst into tears; at which Worcester and Fitzgerald
laughed heartily.
This however did not prevent my writing a laboured letter, which
had cost me three copies, to try to melt Colonel Quintin's heart in
his favour. I could not help fancying, as the man was led past us
handcuffed, that the expression of his countenance might be interpreted
thus, when he fixed his eyes on my face:
"Lord Worcester will sit on the court-martial which will decide my fate.
You can do much with him; so have pity on me."
I saw a tear in the corner of the poor youth's eye. He could not brush
it off with his hands poor fellow, they being pinioned. It was a fine
clear day; and the sun shone brightly on the sorrowful captive's face,
as though in mockery of his distress: and I am to be pampered, and
indulged in every wanton luxury of life, while my miserable fellow
creature, merely for having sought that liberty so dear to all, is to be
bound and lashed till he faints under the cruel torture; and Worcester,
the tender, soft, luxurious Worcester, shall have a voice against him!
Worcester appeared to indulge me, in what he evidently considered my
excess of weakness, merely because he was passionately in love with me,
though he did not in the least sympathise in my feelings: and yet he had
seen no war to harden his heart against the sufferings of his fellow
creatures! I remembered to have heard told in the regiment, of the
young cornet, whom everybody had cut, having nearly fainted the first
time he saw a man flogged, yet nobody ever accused this youth of want
of spirit or mettle. I had never liked Worcester so little as on that
day. Not being personally acquainted with Colonel Quintin, and knowing
that he was rather unfavourably disposed towards me from an idea that I
prevented Worcester from attending to his military duties, the letters I
addressed to him were anonymous. I of course entertained few hopes from
an anonymous epistle; but it was the best I could do for the deserter,
I never acquainted Lord Worcester with the circumstance of my having
addressed Colonel Quintin on this subject.
As soon as I had secretly despatched my letter, it was time to go to
the barracks, where I had received a particular invitation from Colonel
Roberts to dine, Palmer being absent. It was on a Sunday, and as we
passed through the hall we saw Will Haught, dressed up in his usual
sabbath-costume, with a yellow handkerchief bound tight round his head,
_à l'ordinaire,_ whenever he read the Bible.
"Good heavens," said I to Worcester, "what a fright the man makes of
himself! Why I should think God would like him better in his pretty
silver-laced hat." This was very wicked perhaps; but, as the sin of
such a harmless little remark does not strike me, I am not ashamed of
repeating it.
Cornet Eversfield looked exactly as usual: the only difference I
observed in him was that he had left off whistling, and for a very
simple reason I imagine, that of having discovered amusing companions in
men who had previously thrown him entirely on his own resources, _pour
passer le temps._
The next morning, Monday, Worcester was obliged to attend the
court-martial, which sat to try the poor deserter. I absolutely refused
to leave my bed on that morning.
Lord Worcester informed me that he, the Duc de Guiche, and----but, as
I am not certain, I will not name the third, had sentenced the man to
receive five hundred lashes!
"And what says Colonel Quintin?" I asked eagerly.
"I have just seen the colonel," answered Worcester, "and acquainted him
with the sentence."
"Well," I exclaimed in much anxiety.
"Why, Colonel Quintin has astonished us all, by declaring that he should
not inflict one quarter of the sentence pronounced by the court-martial
against the young soldier."
"What reason did he give?"
"Merely," answered Worcester, "that the man was young in the first
place, and, in the second, that he hated the system of flogging
altogether, believing it to be a punishment most of all calculated to
harden the men."
"I will forgive Colonel Quintin his dislike of me for that one
sentiment," said I.
In order to quiet the anxiety of the Duke of Beaufort, I absolutely
insisted on Lord Worcester going occasionally into society; but, when he
did comply with my earnest desire to this effect, he always left me with
the reluctance of a school-boy, on setting off to his dull, dry, daily
school.
One day, when Worcester dined with Lord Charles Somerset, he said
that several carriages would be passing my door on their way from his
uncle's, so that he should not require any equipage of his own to return
in. It was a rainy, wretched night, and I was greatly surprised when
Worcester, in his full dress regimentals, without a cloak or a great
coat, came home on foot absolutely wet to the skin!
"Lady Aldborough offered me a seat in her barouche," said Worcester,
"and we were altogether six, just about to drive from the door, when
that widow, Lady Emily ----, I forget her other name, who, everybody
says, is dying for a husband, begged that we would make room for her
too, and she got into the coach without waiting for an answer. 'I must
not crowd you all,' said her ladyship; 'indeed I prefer sitting on Lord
Worcester's knee, to putting the ladies to the least inconvenience.'"
Worcester's virtue having taken the alarm, he insisted on its being
quite impossible for him to intrude an instant longer, and rather than
submit to such contamination as to consent that a fine woman should
sit on his knee, he preferred submitting his best and gayest uniform
to the pelting storm; for which want of gallantry he was rated by Lady
Aldborough for the next fortnight.
We continued some time longer at Brighton. The duke appeared somewhat
appeased at learning that Worcester went a little more into Society;
perhaps, from an idea that he was growing tired of me, or, may be, he
had discovered that mild measures had most effect on his son.
In spite of all I could say or do to prevent it Lord Worcester got
horridly in debt. He was naturally extravagant, and everybody cheated
him. As for myself, I might have been welcome to have brought away, in
his lordship's name at any time, as many diamonds as either Wirgman
or any other jeweller would have given him credit for; and yet, I can
say with truth, that I never accepted a single trinket from him in my
life, except a small chain and a pair of pink topaz ear-rings, the price
of which was altogether under thirty guineas. I even did my best to
prevent his buying these, which were brought to me, as the man said, by
the desire of Lord Worcester, merely to inquire if I liked them. His
lordship being from home, the man said he would call for them when he
returned.
When I saw Worcester, believing it was not too late to return the
trinkets, and knowing him to be very poor, I told him that I never wore
such things, and should esteem it a favour if he would not buy them. His
lordship assured me that it was now too late to return these; but I
never suffered him to buy any more.
With regard to our house-expenses, I could have regulated them for, at
least, half the cost; but Worcester absolutely refused to allow me to
trouble my head about them. Once I did venture to remark when he was
about to borrow a thousand or two at enormous interest, that, since the
pious Will Haught always carried out of our house daily provision, not
only for himself, but his wife, and put down, in his pious accounts,
more porter than any man could drink in his sober senses, I did not
exactly perceive the fun or amusement of paying him very high weekly
board-wages; but Worcester having slightly hinted this circumstance to
the holy man, he cried and blubbered till he was almost in hysterics,
and I declared myself quite unable to contend with a footman of such
fine nerves. Still it provoked me to see the man to whom I was bound by
gratitude, for his apparent devotions to me, teased and dunned to death,
when I knew everything might have been all square by proper economy, but
it is really incredible how young, careless noblemen are used between
their tradespeople and their servants.
When the Duke of Beaufort discovered at what interest Lord Worcester was
borrowing money, he threatened the money-lender with prosecution for
fraud on a minor, if he did not sign a receipt in full for the bare sum
lent; and these terms were accepted.
All this might be very pretty and very fair; still my own opinion is
that a bargain is a bargain. A man tells Worcester that he may have
a thousand or two on certain terms, or he may apply elsewhere, or go
without it, whichever he pleases. Lord Worcester, who was nearly of
age, and of very mature manners, obtained the sum, to take up a bill,
on which, as he declared to me, his father's credit depended. We cannot
take upon ourselves to say that the lender did not put himself both to
trouble and inconvenience, in order, at a very short notice, to put
the desired amount into Lord Worcester's hands; then, when His Grace of
Beaufort's credit has been preserved by his son's punctuality, His most
honourable Grace takes advantage of the mere accident of his son wanting
a few months to be of age, to make him break his solemn word of honour,
pledged to one who had relied on that honour. Yet the Duke of Beaufort
passes for a very honourable man!
Now, as we are upon honour, I cannot avoid mentioning the very dead set
which was made upon Lord Worcester about this time by the Honourable
Martin Hawke, to induce him to play. As well might he have endeavoured
to move rocks and mountains and make them dance quadrilles at Almack's!
Which proves to us that, where one passion is strong enough in the
breast of a man or a woman to occupy his whole soul, he becomes dead of
course to every other.
The opera-season had begun six weeks before, and I had engaged a very
desirable opera-box; but nobody cares for the opera the first six weeks
of the season, and we, who are very fine, generally lend our boxes to
our creditors, or our _femmes de chambre_, till about March or April. We
were however tired to death of Brighton and old Quintin, and Worcester
was waiting and watching for a good opportunity to address Quintin on
the subject of leave of absence, having predetermined to cut the army
altogether in case he was a second time refused.
"I never meant to make the army my profession," said Worcester to me
one day, "neither did my father desire it; but he conceives that every
young man is the better for having seen a year or two of service. I had
no decided objection to a little active service, as I hope, sooner or
later, to prove, with your permission: for again and again I swear to be
governed by that only, for ever and ever, so help me God! &c. My object,
in teasing and hurrying my father as I did, to purchase a commission, I
frankly tell you was, because, since my figure is better than my face I
hoped the becoming uniform of the Tenth would render me a little, though
a very little, more to your taste!"
"There!" said Worcester, one morning to me, as we were riding past the
barracks, "look at that young soldier: if you pleaded for him and shed
tears at the idea of his being flogged, jealous and mad as I should have
been, I must have applauded your taste."
I assured Lord Worcester that his sarcasms could not wound me on a
subject where my heart so entirely and decidedly acquitted me: and I set
about my examination of the man, whose beauty was to wash away all the
sins any of our frail sex might be inclined to commit with him. He wore
the dress of a private of the Tenth Hussars; his age might be three or
four-and-twenty; his height full six feet; and he was just as slight as
it was possible to be without injury to his strength, or the perfect
manliness of his whole appearance. His person appeared to me, at the
first glance, what Lord Worcester afterwards assured me it was generally
allowed to be by the whole regiment--faultless, and moulded in the most
exact symmetry. It reminded one of strength, activity, and lightness,
all at once. His feet and hands were peculiarly small, taper, and
beautiful. In short, persons, at first sight, were generally too much
struck with this young man's person to pay any particular attention to
the beauty of his countenance, taking it, I suppose, for granted, that
nature had not been so peculiarly lavish of her kind favours as to have
awarded such a head to such a body. The man was so much accustomed to
see people stop and look at him, that he merely smiled, not affectedly,
but with an appearance of good-nature, joined to some little degree of
archness.
Worcester called the man to his side, that I might judge of this
celebrated model who had even attracted the admiration of majesty.
His Royal Highness the commander having taken much notice of him, and
Colonel Quintin being really proud of having such a magnificent-looking
being in his regiment, always made him come forward alone, before the
troops, that he might be the more conspicuous. The soldier, by his deep
blushes, I fancy, rather guessed Lord Worcester's motive in speaking to
him.
Nature, determined, for once in her life, to show the world what a man
ought to be, had given the soldier the finest, full rich, soft tone of
voice which could well be imagined. He could neither read nor write,
yet, either this man was naturally a gentleman, or his perfect beauty
made one fancy so; for it was impossible to think him vulgar. His
hair, which absolutely grew in full ringlets, was of the very finest
silken quality. It was not quite black, for there was a rich glow of
dark reddish brown on it; then for his eyes--it was almost impossible
to ascertain their exact trait, they were so bright and staglike. I
pronounced them decidedly purple, and was laughed at for my pains; but
there was nothing equivocal about the colour of his teeth--two even rows
of pearls, not too small. His mouth, around which many a dimple played,
was large enough to add to that manliness of expression, for which he
was so celebrated. There was a peculiar character about the upper lip;
one might have imagined that it quivered with the ardour of some warlike
command, just delivered; but then the under lip was so brightly red and
pouting, it ought to have been a woman's. His skin, of the very finest
and most delicate texture, was pale, clear and olive coloured; but he
was always blushing. His moustachios, of which he was not a little
proud, were like the hair of his head. There was much about the face of
this young man, which reminded one of Lord Byron: and yet, beautiful as
he was, like his lordship, supposing him to have been of the same rank
in life, he would never have inspired me with passion. This however, was
very far from being the case, generally speaking. Many stories of his
prowess and of his conquests were in circulation.
The Duc de Guiche mentioned to us one day at dinner having met the
handsome Hussar, unusually smart and much perfumed, just as he was
stepping into a post-chaise. His dukeship insisted on knowing where he
was going. The man hesitated, and appeared in much confusion; but the
duke was peremptory.
"My lord,--a lady--" said the soldier, at last, deeply blushing.
"If that is the case," said De Guiche, "remember to bring back some
positive proof of the lady's approbation; the honour of the regiment is
concerned, mind."
The man on his return produced a twenty-pound note!
This Hussar spared no pains to set off his beauty. He had often been
accused of curling his moustachios, but he steadily denied it, and
referred his accusers to the persons most likely to have discovered
the secrets of his toilette. Rouge he certainly did not wear, for he
was always pale, save when he blushed. He was an idle fellow, and
often neglected his business in the stable. Once, the officer of his
troop threatened him with a court-martial; but, when Colonel Quintin
heard of what was in agitation, he lifted up his hands and eyes, as he
said,--"Oh, mine Got! How voud it be in possibility to flock such fine
fellow as dat? and such goot-tempert fellow too!"
* * * * *
One morning, about a week after our meeting with the handsome soldier,
I was a good deal affected by witnessing from my window the simple
procession which was passing.
The atmosphere was dense and heavy, while the rain fell in torrents on
the heads of the mourners, and the wind whistled mournfully among the
trees.
"There goes a poor soldier to his last home," said my maid, who happened
to be sitting in the room with me.
"He hears it not, poor fellow!" said I, "nor wind nor weather can
disturb him more!"
As they passed on slowly by my window, I observed that the funeral was
attended by one of the officers of the Tenth Hussars, to which regiment
the dead soldier had been attached. I looked again. It was the Marquis
of Worcester, and then I recollected his having mentioned something to
me, in the morning, about having a soldier's funeral to attend. His
lordship looked unusually melancholy, and for my part, though I always
considered this a mournful sight, I had never been so affected by a
soldier's funeral until now.
"It is the dull weather which disorders our nerves," said I, brushing
away a tear. "What is all this to me? Men must die, and worms will eat
them."
I was going from the window, when my attention was arrested by the sight
of a wild, beautiful, young female, who rushed on towards the coffin.
Her hair was dishevelled, and her eyes so swollen with tears, that one
could but guess at what might, perhaps, be their natural lustre.
Will Haught at this moment brought in my breakfast.
"Do you know anything about this funeral, or that poor young female who
has just followed it?" said I to him.
"It is the beautiful young soldier, who died two days ago of a brain
fever, madam. That girl's name is Mary Keats. She was his sweetheart,
and he loved her better than any of them great ladies as used to make so
much fuss of him."
This man had stood before me, with all his god-like beauty but a few
days past! Methought I yet saw that mantling blush, and the fine
expressive curve of that quivering lip!
Feeling the tears again rushing to my eyes, I ran out of the room.
When I returned to the drawing-room, Lord Worcester was sitting in a
very melancholy attitude, leaning on his hand.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked.
"Why, I was considering, suppose it were my next turn to be cut off thus
suddenly in the flower of my youth, that I should not like it!"
There was something so very comical and natural about what Worcester
said that, melancholy as I was, and little as his speech seems of the
risible kind, it certainly much amused me for an instant.
His lordship looked at me in surprise, and declared that he was
astonished at my want of feeling.
I assured him, with truth, that I had been most particularly shocked by
Will Haught's account of the young soldier's death.
The man, as I learned from Worcester, while in the stable two days after
we had seen him, complained of a pain in his head, and applied for
leave to go immediately to the hospital. From his unusual paleness he
was admitted at once. Worcester visited him on the following evening,
and found him raging under the influence of a brain fever. The muscles
and veins of his finely turned throat were all swollen, every nerve
was agitated, and his heart and pulse were beating so violently, that
the former was visible at a distance. The man, one might have fancied,
was endued with a double portion of life, energy, and animal strength.
His late pale cheek was now flushed with a bright crimson glow, and
the disorder of his fine, dark, auburn ringlets seemed but to increase
that beauty which could not easily be disfigured. As the poor young
maniac struggled and wrestled in the arms of the men, who vainly
endeavoured to confine him by means of a strait waistcoat, he offered
some of the finest models for the statuary's art which could well be
conceived. His beauty, as I have been told by several who witnessed
this poor youth in his last moments, acquired a character of more
sublimity from the disorder of his brain; and all that supernatural,
glowing ardour, that immense bodily strength,--the youthful fire of that
sweet countenance--the eye which flashed such wild indignation on his
tormentors--that frame, like quicksilver, sensitive in every nerve and
fibre--the boiling blood rushing through those veins--all this was to
become a mass of cold senseless clay before the next revolving sun!