I could not see him next day; but I determined to write to him, and sat down when I got home for that purpose; but what could I say? When I imagined myself in his situation for the purpose of trying the question, I was obliged to own that I would have been in danger of forming the same resolution;—still, however, I endeavoured by every argument I was master of, to sway him from his purpose; but when I gave the letter next morning to a comrade, for the purpose of conveying it to him, I felt it was of no use.
The second day after, when I got off guard, I hastened to the court-house; his trial had commenced,—the house was crowded, and the greater number of the officers of the regiment were present. The evidence adduced proved clearly that he had fired the shot; but no malice or forethought of the crime was established: so far from that, the prisoner and the deceased had been on the best terms. Several officers came forward and gave him an excellent character—the Jury retired, and during the interval, I am certain there were many there who felt the dreadful suspense nearly as much as the prisoner—they again appeared, and gave in a verdict of manslaughter—a weight was relieved from my heart,—he was sentenced to nine months’ imprisonment. Will it be believed, that on my next seeing him he seemed to feel disappointed? Such is the strange inconsistency and vanity of human nature, that after working his mind up to the pitch necessary to take away his own life, and throwing a colouring round the deed that had strongly excited his imagination, he felt a kind of regret that the sacrifice was not now necessary.
It is needless to enter more at large into his story: he survived his imprisonment, but he could not endure the stigma which was attached to his character. In an evil moment he deserted—was afterwards apprehended and drafted to a corps stationed in the Grecian Islands, where he soon after died, leaving an example of the awful consequences which may proceed from one unguarded burst of passion. Few men in the regiment had better prospects—a common mind might have regained in a great measure its equilibrium; but how often is it the case, that when a mind of sensibility and genius errs, ‘it falls, like Lucifer, never to rise again.’
CHAPTER X.
DETACHMENT.
In the course of duty, I was one of a detachment sent to a village about twenty miles from head-quarters, where the inhabitants were in a disturbed state. From the accounts given us by the constables when we first went there, we were led to believe that the whole country was in arms, ready, when the word was given, to massacre all opposed to their schemes. But we soon found that their fears or their prejudices had magnified the cause of alarm to a wonderful degree. Before we became acquainted with the true state of affairs, they made us complete hacks, calling us out to their assistance in every drunken squabble which took place, often through their own insolent behaviour.
I remember one night we were turned out in a great hurry by one of the constables, who rode up to our barrack, with his horse sweating and his face pale with terror. He had laid off a dreadful story of his coming home from the fair of T——, and on the top of a hill, about two miles from the town, he had unexpectedly come upon about two hundred Shanavests in a field, holding one of their nocturnal meetings, who, when they saw him, shouted out and fired half-a-dozen shots at him; that he, seeing it of no use to face so many, set spurs to his horse and fled, followed by a whole troop of them, to the very end of the village.
Having turned out, we set off at a double quick pace towards the scene of action; on reaching the foot of the hill, where he said the boys were assembled, we loaded, fixed our bayonets, and were gallantly led up to the attack by the constable himself.
‘Easy, easy boys,’ said he, ‘we’ll be on them in a jiffy—don’t fire till I give you the word, and you’ll see we’ll surround them and take them all prisoners.’ So saying, he crept softly on some way in front. The night was very dark, and we could see nothing distinctly; but when within about fifty yards of the top of the hill, we were startled by a tremendous clatter of feet upon the stones of the road, followed by the cry of ‘Murder, murder! Fire, fire!’ We had not been accustomed to waste our ammunition uselessly, and waited a second or two to see what we had to fire at; but one of our party (a recruit) snapt his musket on the alarm; luckily for the constable, it missed fire, for it was directed at him as the only object that could be seen. In less time, however, than I could relate it, the cause of our alarm rushed past in the shape of a horse, that had sprung from the field upon the road as we advanced. Having reached the spot pointed out by the constable, nothing could be seen but a few heifers grazing about, quite unconscious of having disturbed the peace. We certainly did not feel well pleased at being turned out at such an unseasonable hour to no purpose, and we taxed the constable roundly with imagining the whole story, but he swore by all that was good, that every word of what he told was truth. Next morning, however, we were convinced that our surmises were correct, for on inspecting the field where the Shanavests were said to be assembled, not a single foot-mark could be seen, although the ground was moist from previous rain; besides, it was well known that the constable had taken a sup too much at the fair, for when he left it he was scarcely able to sit his horse.
For some time we were regularly called out by these fellows, when they went to distrain a man’s goods for rent or tithes, until we were more like the bailiff’s body-guard than anything else. But after being made fools of in this way two or three times, our officer remonstrated, and arranged matters so, that we were not obliged to go out without a special order from the magistrate. This relieved us from the petty affairs more immediately under the cognizance of the constable; but still we had enough to do in following the magistrate, who seemed to consider a hunt after his countrymen even more amusing than one after the fox. Had the people been peaceably inclined, his conduct would have goaded them on to outrage. He was continually up to the ears in business—some momentous matter always on hand. Every trifling riot was magnified into a deep-laid rebellion—if a cabin or a hay stack was set on fire, a whole village was burned—if one man was wounded, a dozen were killed; and so on, always magnifying the event in proportion to the distance. His conduct put me in mind of those amateurs, who when they want to bait a bull, aggravate it to the necessary pitch to create them sufficient sport, and then allege its madness as a pretext for treating it cruelly.