A Love Story
hardships, as your eye glanced on the glowing circumstantial details of
Kincaid;--or you might glory in your country's Thucydides, as you read
the nervous impassioned language of a Napier. _Thou_, too, Trant! our
friend! wert there! Ah, why cut off in thy prime? Did not thy spirit
glow with martial fire? Did not thy conduct give promise, that not in
vain were those talents accorded thee? What hadst _thou_ done, to sink
thus early to a premature inglorious grave? Nor were our friends Folard
and Jomini absent; nor eke the minute essays of a Jarry, who taught the
aspiring youths of Great Britain all the arts of castrametation. With
what gusto does he show how to attack Reading; or how, with the greatest
chance of success, to defend the tranquil town of Egham. _Here_ would he
sink trous de loup on the ancient Runnimede, whereby the advance of the
enemy's cavalry would be frustrated; _there_ would he cut down an
abattis, or plant chevaux de frise. At _this_ winding of England's
noblest river, would he establish a pontoon bridge; the approaches to
which he would enfilade, by a battery placed on yonder height.
Before relating the conversation between Delmé and Colonel Vavasour, it
may not be improper to say a few words as to the character of the
latter. When we say that he was looked up to as an officer, and adored
as a man, by the regiment he had commanded for years; we are not
according light praise.
Those who have worn a coat of red, or been much conversant with
military affairs, will appreciate the difficult, the ungrateful task,
devolving on a commanding officer.
How few, how very few are those, who can command respect, and ensure
love. How many, beloved as men, are imposed on, and disregarded as
officers. How many are there, whose presence on the parade ground awes
the most daring hearts, who are passed by in private life, with
something like contumely, and of whom, in their private relations, few
speak, and yet fewer are those who wish kindly. When deserving in each
relation, how frequently do we see those who want the manner, the tact,
to show themselves in their true colours. An ungracious refusal--ay! or
an ungraciously accorded favour! may raise a foe who will be a bar to a
man's popularity for years:--whilst how many a free and independent
spirit is there, who criticises with a keener eye than is his wont, the
sayings and doings of his commanding officer, solely because he _is_
such. How apt is such an one to misrepresent a word, or create a wrong
motive for an action! how slow in giving praise, lest _he_ should be
deemed one of the servile train! Pass we over the host of petty
intrigues--the myriads of conflicting interests:--show not how the
partial report of a favourite, may make the one in authority unjust to
him below him; or how the false tale-bearer may induce the one below to
be unjust to his superior. Colonel Vavasour was not only considered in
the field, as one of England's bravest soldiers; but was yet more
remarkable for his gentlemanly deportment, and for the attention he ever
paid to the interior economy of his corps. This gave a tone to the ----
mess, almost incredible to one, who has not witnessed, what the constant
presence of a commanding officer, if he be a real gentleman, is enabled
to effect. Colonel Vavasour had ideas on the duties of a soldier, which
to many appeared original. We cannot but think, that the Colonel's
ideas, in the main, were right. He disliked his officers marrying; often
stating that he considered a sword and a wife as totally incompatible.
"Where," would he say, "is _then_ that boasted readiness of purpose,
that spirit of enterprise? Can an officer _then_, with half a dozen
shirts in his portmanteau, and a moderate quantity of cigars, if he be a
smoker, declare himself ready to sail over half the world?"
The Colonel would smile as he said this, but would continue with a
graver tone.
"No, there is a choice, and I blame no one for making his election:--a
soldier's hardships and a soldier's joys;--or domestic happiness, and an
inglorious life:--but to attempt to blend the two, is, I think,
injudicious."
On regimental subjects, he was what is technically called, a regulation
man. No innovations ever crept into his regiment, wanting the sanction
of the Horse Guards; whilst every order emanating from thence, was as
scrupulously adopted and adhered to, as if his own taste had prompted
the change. On parade, Colonel Vavasour was a strict disciplinarian;--but
his sword in the scabbard, he dropped the officer in his manner,--it
was impossible to do so in his appearance,--and no one ever heard him
discuss military points in a place inappropriate. He knew well how to
make the distinction between his public and his private duties. On an
officer under his command, being guilty of any dereliction of duty, he
would send for him, and reprimand him before the assembled corps, if he
deemed that such reprimand would be productive of good effect to others;
but--the parade dismissed--he would probably take this very officer's
arm, or ask to accompany him in his country ride.
Colonel Vavasour had once a young and an only brother under his command.
In no way did he relax discipline in his favour. Young Vavasour had
committed a breach of military etiquette. He was immediately ordered by
his brother to be placed in arrest, and would inevitably have been
brought to a court martial, had not the commanding officer of the
station interfered. During the whole of this time, the Colonel's manner
towards him continued precisely the same. They lived together as usual;
and no man, without a knowledge of the circumstance, could have been
aware that any other but a fraternal tie bound them together. What was
more extraordinary, the younger brother saw all this in its proper
light; and whilst he clung to and loved his brother, looked up with awe
and respect to his commanding officer.
As for Colonel Vavasour, no one who saw his convulsed features, as his
brother fell heading a gallant charge of his company at Waterloo, could
have doubted for a moment his deep-rooted affection. From that period, a
gloomy melancholy hung about him, which, though shaken off in public,
gave a shade to his brow, which was very perceptible.
In person, he was particularly neat; being always the best dressed
officer in his regiment, "How can we expect the men to pay attention to
_their_ dress, when we give them reason to suppose we pay but little
attention to our own?" was a constant remark of his. And here we may
observe, that no class of men have a stricter idea of the propriety of
dress, than private soldiers. To dress well is half a passport to a
soldier's respect; whilst on the other hand, it requires many excellent
qualities, to counterbalance in his mind a careless and slovenly
exterior. Colonel Vavasour had an independent fortune, which he spent at
the head of his regiment. Many a dinner party was given by him, for
which the corps he commanded obtained the credit; many a young officer
owed relief from pecuniary embarrassments, which might otherwise have
overwhelmed him, to the generosity of his Colonel. He appeared not to
have a wish, beyond the military circle around him, although those who
knew him best, said he had greater talent, and possessed the art of
fascinating in general society, more than most men.
"I am glad to see you here, Sir Henry," said he to Delmé, "although I
cannot but wish that happier circumstances had brought you to us. I have
a very great esteem for your brother, and am one of his warmest well
wishers. But I must not neglect the duties of hospitality. You must
allow me to present you to my officers at mess this evening. Our dinner
hour is late; but were it otherwise, we should miss that delightful hour
for our ride, when the sun's rays have no longer power to harm us, and
the sea breezes waft us a freshness, which almost compensates for the
languor attending the summer's heat."
Delmé declined his invitation, stating his wish to dine with his brother
on that day; but expressed himself ready to accept his kind offer on the
ensuing one.
"Thank you!" said Colonel Vavasour, "it is natural you should wish to
see your brother; and it pains me to think that poor George cannot yet
dine with his old friends. Have you seen Mr. Graham?"
Delmé replied in the affirmative; adding, that he could not but feel
obliged to him for his frankness.
"I am glad you feel thus," said Vavasour, "it emboldens me to address
you with equal candour; and, painful as our advice must be, I confess I
am inclined to side with George's medical attendant. I have myself been
witness to such lamentable proofs of George's state of mind--he has so
often, with the tears in his eyes, spoken to me of his feelings with
regard to Acmé Frascati, that I certainly consider these as in a great
measure the cause, and his state of mind the effect. I speak to you,
Sir Henry, without disguise. I had once a brother--the apple of my
eye--I loved him as I shall never love human being more; and, as God is
my witness, under similar circumstances, frankness is what I should have
prayed for,--my first wish would have been at once to know the worst.
Mr. Graham has told you of his long illness--his delirium--and has, I
conclude, touched upon the present state of his patient. Shall I shock
you, when I add that his lucid intervals are not to be depended upon;
that occasionally the wildest ideas, the most extraordinary projects,
are conceived by him? I wish you not, to act on any thing that Mr.
Graham, or that I may tell you, but to judge for yourself. Without this,
indeed, you would hardly understand the danger of these mental
paroxysms. So fearful are they, that I confess I should be inclined to
adopt any remedy, make any sacrifices which promised the remotest
possibility of success."
"I trust," said Sir Henry, "there are no sacrifices I would not
personally make for my only brother, were I once convinced these were
for his real benefit."
"I frankly mean," said Vavasour, "that I think almost the only chance of
restoring him, is by allowing him to marry Acmé Frascati."
Delmé's brow clouded.
"Think not," continued he, "that I am ignorant of what such a
determination must cost you. _I_, too, Sir Henry,"--and the old man drew
his commanding form to its utmost height,--"_I_ too, know what must be
the feelings of a descendant of noble ancestors. I know them well; and
in more youthful days, the blood boiled in my veins as I thought of the
name they had left me. Thank heaven! I have never disgraced it. But were
_I_ situated as _you_ are, and the dead Augustus Vavasour in the place
of the living George Delmé, I would act as I am now advising you to do.
I speak solely as to the expediency of the measure. From what I have
stated--from my situation in life--from my character--you may easily
imagine that all my prejudices are enlisted on the other side of the
question. But I must here confess that I see something inexpressibly
touching in the devotion which that young Greek girl displayed, during
the whole of George's illness. But putting this on one side, and
considering the affair as one of mere expediency, I think you will
finally agree with me, that however desperate the remedy, some such must
be applied. And now, let me assure you, that nothing could have induced
me to obtrude thus, my feelings and opinions on a comparative stranger,
were it not that that stranger is the brother of one in whose welfare I
feel the liveliest interest."
Sir Henry Delmé expressed his thanks, and inwardly determined that he
would form no opinion till he had himself been witness to some act of
mental aberration. It is true, he had heard the medical attendant give a
decided opinion,--from George's own lips he had an avowal of much that