CHAPTER XIII.

A soldier’s reputation is too fine To be exposed, e’en to the smallest cloud.

JOANNA BAILLIE’S _Basil_.

It will be remembered that Warenne, before he left Calbury, had written to General Mapleton a detailed account of the reasons which induced him to break through the repeated orders he had received. Seaforth had also sent to him, as general of the district, a formal request for assistance, as soon as he had been apprised of the outrages in contemplation. Through some error of the messenger, this last letter did not reach General Mapleton till the day after the riot had taken place, or it is possible that he might have pursued a different line of conduct. As it was, the receipt of Warenne’s letter, unaccompanied by the explanation which that of Seaforth would have given to it, irritated him beyond all power of endurance.

He was not only thoroughly exasperated at what he deemed Warenne’s presumption, but most unjustly imagined that he could trace throughout his proceedings an intention of putting a personal indignity upon him, and of accusing him indirectly of incapacity in his command.

Under this impression, he wrote to the Horse Guards in the strongest possible terms, desiring that Warenne might be immediately brought to a court-martial; and requesting, in case of refusal, that he might be allowed to retire from his appointment. Colonel Warenne’s conduct, he observed, was the most inexcusable and wanton act of disobedience he had ever witnessed in the service. At the very moment when he had, in consequence of particular information received, commanded that officer to concentrate his forces in Calbury, he had chosen, without any requisition from a magistrate, on the evidence of a frightened country gentleman, and a foolish old woman, to leave his post, and set at hazard the safety of the important town which had been entrusted to his protection. He wrote, he said, before ill success could aggravate or good success justify the steps which Colonel Warenne had taken; looking merely to the necessity of enforcing obedience in inferior officers, if their superiors were to be made responsible for the execution of the duties they superintended. He added, that in anticipation of the orders of the commander-in-chief, he had directed that Colonel Warenne should be placed under arrest the moment he returned to Calbury. In fact, the orderly who had conveyed Warenne’s despatch to head-quarters brought back the order for his arrest; and Frank, in the exercise of the temporary command which had devolved on him, was constrained to execute that order upon his brother.

Warenne arrived late at night. Frank was waiting to receive him. The first few minutes of their interview were occupied with the relation of the transactions at Fisherton; but the time soon arrived, when it was necessary that the latter should fulfil his melancholy task. His brother demanded the general’s answer. Frank held it out to him in mournful silence. Warenne read it.

“Arrest!” said he; “does he put me under arrest? This is a strong measure, indeed; he might have heard me, surely, before he took so decided a step; it is, of course, preparatory to a court-martial. Well, Frank, there’s my sword; I would sooner yield it up to you than to any other living being:” poor Frank burst into tears. “Nay, do not weep, I would not for worlds have done otherwise than I have done; and though disgrace is hard to bear, it is much less so, when not deserved. I suppose they will hardly put me on my trial for desertion of my post, for that charge will affect life. General Mapleton will be satisfied with less than that. Come what come may, they will not make me out a coward; _au reste_, I must take a soldier’s chance.”

The next morning Warenne’s arrest became generally known; and Henry, anxious that his sister should not be informed of it by an indifferent person, rode over to Epworth with the news. He found her pale and agitated (for since her last interview with Warenne, she had given fuller indulgence to her feelings, legitimatised, as it were, by his avowal of his love for her), eager to learn the success of the troops at Fisherton, and scarcely allowing herself to doubt of its being such as to call forth approbation upon him who had commanded them; yet dreading, she knew not why, some harsh measure from General Mapleton. Hope had predominated over fear, and she was bitterly disappointed by Henry’s intelligence. For a moment she gave way to grief; but recovering herself—

“Henry,” said she, “thank you, thank you for coming to me at this moment. I need not now tell you how truly you have read my heart; but I must not be selfish. Think no more of me, but of him on whom the whole weight of the blow has fallen; it will crush him, I fear, he is so sensitive to even the semblance of dishonour.” Henry strove to comfort his sister. “His friends must support him,” added she; “they must not let that gallant spirit sink.”

Her brother promised to do his best. He assured her that she viewed matters too despondingly; that a man was not disgraced by being put on his trial, but only by the condemnation of the court; that he would see Warenne on his return, and endeavour to speak comfort to him, though he must confess, that as yet his ideas on that head threatened to concentrate themselves in the simple Americanism, “G—d pretty particularly d—n” General Mapleton.

Adelaide smiled amid her tears at Henry’s projected mode of consolation; and he, glad to find that his nonsense had succeeded in calling forth a smile, went off with a lightened heart to fulfil his commission; a commission, as he then thought, easy of execution, but which appeared to him in a very different light, when he became aware of the irritated state of Warenne’s mind, and his almost morbid apprehensiveness of disgrace.

The interval which elapsed between the arrest and the sitting of the court-martial was not long. The commander-in-chief, from a recollection of Warenne’s services and character, had acceded to General Mapleton’s request with much reluctance, which was increased when he received the despatches from Fisherton, most punctiliously forwarded to the Horse Guards by the general, who though a weak was an honourable man. To mitigate the severity of the proceeding, he expedited the necessary arrangements as much as possible. He forthwith sent officers to form a court, and desired General Mapleton to deliver in his charges. It is unnecessary to record the forms, &c. of the court; suffice it to say that General Mapleton made his accusation, limiting it to the act of disobedience, without cause; and that Warenne in his defence, admitting the act of disobedience, rested his claim to an acquittal upon the impossibility, under the circumstances of the case, of his acting otherwise, with a due regard to his majesty’s service. He produced at the same time a letter of thanks from the inhabitants of Fisherton, and the testimony of Seaforth and Nicholas, as to the necessity of the line of conduct which he had adopted. The question lay within a small compass, and the court soon finished its sittings. The result, however, of its inquiries was not declared. Warenne was doomed to undergo a period of agonising uncertainty.

It is not for a civilian to impugn the policy of military arrangements, but one may perhaps be allowed to say, that unless some strong reason can be adduced for the suspense, which an officer awaiting the sentence of a court-martial is forced to suffer, the infliction of it is a needless piece of cruelty. Why should not the sentence of a court-martial be confirmed, or annulled, and in either case declared, as soon as time had been given for its consideration at the Horse Guards? In the present case, weeks intervened before Warenne’s fate was decided, during which his feelings were outraged and lacerated in a manner totally inconsistent with real justice. Not only had he to combat with his own over-excited susceptibility on the score of dishonour, and his dread of appearing disgraced in the eyes of Adelaide, but with the abuse and calumnies of the public press, or rather that part of the public press which is ever ready to support the cause of the rebellious and licentious against the control of the powers that be.

The radical papers failed not to paint the affair at Fisherton in such colours as to make it seem an infringement of the liberty of the subject, and a massacre which called aloud for vengeance. In vain did the juster newspapers point out that night was not a proper time for people to meet in great numbers, nor arms the proper accompaniment of such assemblages. In vain did they tell of the attempt on the life of Seaforth, and of houses in flames before a sword had been drawn. In vain did they argue that the poor inhabitants of Fisherton had rights—a right to dwell in security; a right to enjoy their little property without molestation; a right to protection from the government of their country. These truths would not help the editors of the * * and * * * to sell their papers; they therefore refused to listen to them; and, on the contrary, filled their columns with reports of what they called the profligate waste of human life by the soldiery, and vehemently expressed hopes, that Colonel Warenne might meet with immediate and condign punishment. This was a species of torment to which Warenne had not looked forward. It had been pain to him to hear his actions arraigned in a court of justice; but his defence followed close upon the accusation, and he had been enabled to bear it with fortitude. To be represented to the people of England as a monster thirsting for the blood of his fellow-countrymen, and deserving of universal execration, was almost more than he could endure.

Henry and Frank were unremitting in their endeavours to comfort him; yet no words, or arguments they could use, availed to remove from him a sensation of despair. He acquiesced in all they said, but as one who heard them not,—except indeed when they pressed him to go with them to Epworth; then he spoke readily and positively. “I will not show myself to Miss Marston a dishonoured man.” In vain did they urge that he was not, could not be disgraced, until condemned by the sentence of the court, which had sat in judgment on his conduct. He would answer,—“I will admit that I am not disgraced by the word of authority, but do you think it nothing to have one’s name called in question? to be made the sport of the papers—no, not their sport, but their execration? Venal they may be—wicked they may be; still they are read by many—believed by many.” If they argued, that no one who knew him would credit any report injurious to his character upon the assumptions of a newspaper, he would thank them for their kind opinions, but refused to be persuaded that he could ever resume the place he had formerly held in public estimation, or that his character could ever be restored to its primitive purity.

One only circumstance seemed to alleviate the anguish of his wounded feelings, and this was the conduct of the soldiers of his regiment. On the return of the troop which had been engaged at Fisherton, the men had naturally expatiated on their colonel’s activity and gallantry before their comrades; consequently, when his arrest was made known, and the recompense he received was seen in immediate and strong contrast with the services he had rendered, one feeling of indignation and resentment pervaded the whole regiment; threatening for a moment to manifest itself in some mode inconsistent with military discipline.

Luckily for their reputation and for his, Frank’s bawman, an old campaigner, gave his master some intimation of their intentions, and Frank desired him to tell his friends that they would best show their regard for his brother, and most effectually gratify him, if they proved the high state of discipline to which they had been brought under his command, by performing their several duties, with, if possible, increased zeal and patience, during his temporary suspension from authority. The soldiers listened readily to advice emanating from such a source, and the consequence was, that never, from Warenne’s first joining the regiment, had there existed so little room for censure, or such cheerful and exact compliance with every order, as from the time of his arrest to the promulgation of the sentence of the court-martial. This proof of the affection of his soldiers was to Warenne a real comfort and support.