LETTER III
"'I am a soldier, sir,' said my new acquaintance, whilst I leant back inthe carriage smoking my cigar, and, _more meo_, Hal, made the most of my'study.' 'I am an Austrian soldier--at least I was a week ago--I wouldnot give much for my chance if ever I come into the clutches of the"Double Eagle" again. Shall I tell you why I entered the Imperial army?All my life I have thought it best to be on the winning side. If I hadbeen born an Englishman, oh, what happiness! I would have asked nobetter lot than to wander about with my dog and my gun, and be free.But a Croat, no, there is no liberty in Croatia. We must have masters,forsooth! territorial dues and seignorial rights; and we must bow andcringe and be trampled on by our own nobility. But these, too, have_their_ masters, and I have seen the lord of many thousand acres tremblebefore a captain of dragoons. So I determined that if a militarydespotism was to be the order of the day, why I, too, would make a partof the great engine, perhaps some time I might come to wield it all. Myfather was appointed steward to a great lord in Hungary--perhaps, had heremained, I might never have left home, for I am his only child, and wetwo are alone in the world; besides, is not a son's first duty to obeyhis father?--but I could not bear to exchange the free open air, and myhorse, and my gun, and my dogs (I had the best greyhounds in Croatia),for a leathern stool and an inkstand, and I said, "Father, I too willbecome an Austrian, and so some day shall I be a great man, perhaps acolonel, and then will I return once a year to see you, and comfort youin your old age." So I was sworn to obey the Emperor, and soon I learntmy exercise, and saw that to rise even in the Austrian army was notdifficult for one who could see clearly before him, and could count thattwo and two make four, and never five.
"'Very few men are soldiers at heart, and those who love the professionand would fain shine, can only see one way to success, and that must bethe old-established track that has always been followed. If I wanted tomove across that stream and had no boats, what should I do? I would tryif it be too deep to wade. But the regulation says, soldiers shall notwade if the water be over a certain depth. So for six inches of water Imust be defeated. That should not be my way; if it came no higher thantheir chins my men should cross; and if we could keep our muskets dry,where would be the harm? Well, I soon rose to be a corporal and asergeant; and whilst I practised fencing and riding and gymnastics, Ilearnt besides something of gunnery and fortification, and the art ofsupplying an army with food. At last I was made lieutenant andpaymaster of the regiment, for I could always calculate readily, andnever shrank from trouble or feared responsibility. So I had good payand good comrades, and was getting on. Meanwhile my poor father wasdistressing himself about my profession, and imagining all sorts ofmisfortunes that would happen to me if I remained a soldier. In hisletters to me he always hinted at the possibility of some greatsuccess--at his hopes of, before long, placing me in an independentposition; that I should leave the army to come and live with him, and wewould farm an estate of our own, and never be parted any more. Poor oldman! what do you think he built on? why, these foolish lotteries.Ticket after ticket did he purchase, and ticket after ticket came up ablank. At last, in his infatuation, he raised a sum of money--enough toobtain him all the numbers he had set his heart upon--for he mixedcalculation with his gambling, which is certain ruin--and for thispurpose he embezzled two thousand florins of his employer's property,and wasted it as he had done the rest. In his despair he wrote to me.What could I do? two thousand florins were in the pay-chest. I have ithere in this leathern bag. I have saved my father; he is steward atEdeldorf. I shall see him to-night; after that I must fly the country.I will go to England, the land of the free. I am ruined, degraded, andmy life is not worth twelve hours' purchase; but I do not regret it.Look at your boy, sir, and tell me if I am not right.' He is a finefellow this, Hal, depend upon it; and though my own feelings as agentleman were a little shocked at a man talking thus coolly of robberyin anything but the legitimate way on the turf, I could scarcelyremonstrate with him now the thing was done; so I shook him by the hand,and promised him at any rate a safe convoy to Edeldorf, which we werenow rapidly approaching. You like a fine place, Hal; you always did. Iremember when you used to vow that if ever Fortune smiled upon you--andfaith, it is not for want of wooing that you have missed the goddess'sfavours--how you would build and castellate and improve Beverley Manor,till, in my opinion as an artist and a man of associations, you wouldspoil it completely; but I think even your fastidious taste would bedelighted with Edeldorf. The sun was just down as we drove into thepark, and returned the salute of the smart Hussar mounting guard at thelodge; and the winding road, and smooth sward dotted with thorns, andthose eternal acacias, reminded one of a gentleman's place in OldEngland, till we rounded the corner of a beautifully-dressedflower-garden, and came in view of the castle itself, with all itsangles and turrets and embrasures, and mullioned windows, andpicturesque ins-and-outs; the whole standing boldly out in achiaro-oscuro against the evening sky, fast beginning to soften intotwilight. Old De Rohan was on the steps to welcome me, his figureupright and noble as ever; his countenance as pleasing; but the beardand moustache that you and I remember so dark and glossy, now as whiteas snow; yet he is a very handsome fellow still. In mail or plate,leaning his arm on his helmet, with his beard flowing over a steelcuirass inlaid with gold, he would make a capital seneschal, or marshalof a tournament, or other elderly dignitary of the middle ages; but Ishould like best to paint him in dark velvet, with a skull-cap, as LordSoulis, or some other noble votary of the magic art; and to bring himout in a dusky room, with one ray of vivid light from a lamp just overhis temples, and gleaming off that fine, bold, shining forehead, fromwhich the hair is now completely worn away."
There are no more of the old dusty letters. Why these should have beentied up and preserved for so many years is more than I can tell. Theyhave, however, reminded me of much in my youth that I had well-nighforgotten. I must try back on my vague memories for the commencement ofmy narrative.