However interesting it might prove to the noble relatives of Ensign
Spoonbill to learn his progress, step by step, we must--for reasons of
our own--pass over the first few weeks of his new career, with only a
brief mention of the leading facts.
His brother-officers had instructed him in the art of tying on his sash,
wearing his forage cap on one side, the secret of distinguishing his
right hand from his left, and the mysteries of marching and
counter-marching. The art of holding up his head and throwing out his
chest, had been carefully imparted by the drill-serjeant of his company,
and he had, accordingly, been pronounced “fit for duty.”
What this was may best be shown, by giving an outline of “a subaltern’s
day,” as he and the majority of his military friends were in the habit
of passing it. It may serve to explain how it happens that British
officers are so far in advance of their continental brethren in arms in
the science of their profession, and by what process they have arrived
at that intellectual superiority, which renders it a matter of regret
that more serious interests than the mere discipline and well-being of
only a hundred and twenty thousand men have not been confided to their
charge.
The scene opens in a square room of tolerable size which, if simply
adorned with “barrack furniture,” (to wit, a deal table, two
windsor-chairs, a coal scuttle, and a set of fire-irons,) would give an
idea of a British subaltern’s “interior,” of rather more Spartan-like
simplicity than is altogether true. But to these were added certain
elegant “extras,” obtained not out of the surplus of five and
three-pence a day--after mess and band subscriptions, cost of uniform,
servant’s wages, &c., had been deducted--but on credit, which it was
easier to get than to avoid incurring expense. A noble youth, like
Ensign Spoonbill, had only to give the word of command to be obeyed by
Messrs. Rosewood and Mildew, with the alacrity shown by the slaves of
the lamp, and in an incredibly short space of time, the bare walls and
floor of his apartment were covered with the gayest articles their
establishment afforded. They included those indispensable adjuncts to a
young officer’s toilette, a full length cheval, and a particularly lofty
pier-glass. A green-baize screen converted the apartment into as many
separate rooms as its occupant desired, cutting it up, perhaps, a little
here and there, but adding, on the whole, a great deal to its comfort
and privacy. What was out of the line of Messrs. Rosewood and
Mildew--and that, as Othello says, was “not much”--the taste of Ensign
Spoonbill himself supplied. To his high artistic taste were due the
presence of a couple of dozen gilt-framed and highly-colored prints,
representing the reigning favorites of the ballet, the winners of the
Derby and Leger, and the costumes of the “dressiest,” and consequently
the most distinguished corps in the service; the nice arrangement of
cherry-stick tubes, amber mouth-pieces, meerschaum bowls, and
embroidered bags of Latakia tobacco; pleasing devices of the
well-crossed foils, riding whips, and single sticks evenly balanced by
fencing masks and boxing gloves; and, on the chimney-piece, the
brilliant array of nick-nacks, from the glittering shop of Messrs.
Moses, Lazarus and Son, who called themselves “jewellers and dealers in
curiosities,” and who dealt in a few trifles which were not alluded to
above their door-posts.
The maxim of “Early to bed” was not known in the Hundredth; but the
exigencies of the service required that Ensign Spoonbill should rise
with the _reveillée_. He complained of it in more forcible language
than Dr. Watts’ celebrated sluggard; but discipline is inexorable, and
he was not permitted to “slumber again.” This early rising is a real
military hardship. We once heard a lady of fashion counselling her
friend never to marry a Guardsman. “You have no idea, love, what you’ll
have to go through; every morning of his life--in the season--he has to
be out with the horrid regiment at half-past six o’clock!”
The Hon. Ensign Spoonbill then rose with the lark, though much against
his will, his connection with that fowl having by preference a midnight
tendency. Erect at last, but with a strong taste of cigars in his mouth,
and a slight touch of whiskey-headache, the Ensign arrayed himself in
his blue frock coat and Oxford gray trowsers; wound himself into his
sash; adjusted his sword and cap; and, with faltering step, made the
best of his way into the barrack-square, where the squads were forming,
which, with his eyes only half-open, he was called upon to inspect,
prior to their being re-inspected by both lieutenant and captain. He
then drew his sword, and “falling in” in the rear of his company,
occupied that disposition till the regiment was formed and set in
motion.
His duties on the parade-ground were--as a supernumerary--of a very
arduous nature, and consisted chiefly in getting in the way of his
captain as he continually “changed his flank,” in making the men “lock
up,” and in avoiding the personal observation of the adjutant as much as
possible; storing his mind, all the time, with a few of the epithets,
more vigorous than courtly, which the commanding officer habitually made
use of to quicken the movements of the battalion. He enjoyed this
recreation for about a couple of hours, sometimes utterly bewildered by
a “change of front,” which developed him in the most inopportune manner;
sometimes inextricably entangled in the formation of “a hollow square,”
when he became lost altogether; sometimes confounding himself with “the
points,” and being confounded by the senior-major for his awkwardness;
and sometimes following a “charge” at such a pace as to take away his
voice for every purpose of utility, supposing he had desired to exercise
it in the way of admonitory adjuration to the rear-rank. In this manner
he learnt the noble science of strategy, and by this means acquired so
much proficiency that, had he been suddenly called upon to manœuvre
the battalion, it is possible he might have gone on for five minutes
without “clubbing” it.
The regiment was then marched home; and Ensign Spoonbill re-entered the
garrison with all the honors of war, impressed with the conviction that
he had already seen an immense deal of service; enough, certainly, to
justify the ample breakfast which two or three other famished subs--his
particular friends--assisted him in discussing, the more substantial
part of which, involved a private account with the messman, who had a
good many more of the younger officers of the regiment on his books. At
these morning feasts--with the exception, perhaps, of a few remarks on
drill as “a cussed bore”--no allusion was made to the military exercises
of the morning, or to the prospective duties of the day. The
conversation turned, on the contrary, on lighter and more agreeable
topics;--the relative merits of bull and Scotch terriers; who made the
best boots; whether “that gaerl at the pastrycook’s” was “as fine a
woman” as “the barmaid of the Rose and Crown;” if Hudson’s cigars didn’t
beat Pontet’s all to nothing; who married the sixth daughter of Jones of
the Highlanders; interspersed with a few bets, a few oaths, and a few
statements not strikingly remarkable for their veracity, the last having
reference, principally, to the exploits for which Captain Smith made
himself famous, to the detriment of Miss Bailey.
Breakfast over, and cigars lighted, Ensign Spoonbill and his friends,
attired in shooting jackets of every pattern, and wearing felt hats of
every color and form, made their appearance in front of the officers’
wing of the barracks; some semi-recumbent on the door-steps, others
lounging with their hands in their coat pockets, others gracefully
balancing themselves on the iron railings,--all smoking and talking on
subjects of the most edifying kind. These pleasant occupations were,
however, interrupted by the approach of an “orderly,” who, from a
certain clasped book which he carried, read out the unwelcome
intelligence that, at twelve o’clock that day, a regimental
court-martial, under the presidency of Captain Huff, would assemble in
the officers’ mess-room “for the trial of all such prisoners as might be
brought before it,” and that two lieutenants and two ensigns--of whom
the honorable Mr. Spoonbill was one--were to constitute the members.
This was a most distressing and unexpected blow, for it had previously
been arranged that a badger should be drawn by Lieutenant Wadding’s bull
bitch Juno, at which interesting ceremony all the junior members of the
court were to have “assisted.” It was the more provoking, because the
proprietor of the animal to be baited,--a gentleman in a fustian suit,
brown legging, high-lows, a white hat with a black crape round it, and
a very red nose, indicative of a most decided love for “cordials and
compounds”--had just “stepped up” to say that “the badger _must_ be
dror’d that mornin’,” as he was under a particular engagement to repeat
the amusement in the evening for some gents at a distant town, and
“couldn’t no how, not for no money, forfeit his sacred word.” The
majority of the young gentlemen present understood perfectly what this
corollary meant, but, with Ensign Spoonbill amongst them, were by no
means in a hurry to “fork out” for so immoral a purpose as that of
inducing a fellow-man to break a solemn pledge. That gallant officer,
however, labored under so acute a feeling of disappointment, that
regardless of the insult offered to the worthy man’s conscience, he at
once volunteered to give him “a couple of sovs” if he would just “throw
those snobs over,” and defer his departure till the following day; and
it was settled that the badger should be “drawn” as soon as the patrons
of Joe Baggs could get away from the court-martial,--for which in no
very equable frame of mind they now got ready,--retiring to their
several barrack-rooms, divesting themselves of their sporting costume
and once more assuming military attire.
At the appointed hour, the court assembled. Captain Huff prepared for
his judicial labors by calling for a glass of his favorite “swizzle,”
which he dispatched at one draught, and then, having sworn in the
members, and being sworn himself, the business began by the appointment
of Lieutenant Hackett as secretary. There were two prisoners to be
tried: one had “sold his necessaries” in order to get drunk; the second
had made use of “mutinous language” when drunk; both of them high
military crimes, to be severely visited by those who had no temptation
to dispose of their wardrobes, and could not understand why a soldier’s
beer money was not sufficient for his daily potations; but who omitted
the consideration that they themselves, when in want of cash,
occasionally sent a pair of epaulettes to “my uncle,” and had a
champagne supper out of the proceeds, at which neither sobriety nor
decorous language were rigidly observed.
The case against him who had sold his necessaries,--to wit, “a new pair
of boots, a shirt, and a pair of stockings,” for which a Jew in the town
had given him two shillings--was sufficiently clear. The captain and the
pay-serjeant of the man’s company swore to the articles, and the Jew who
bought them (an acquaintance of Lieutenant Hackett, to whom he nodded
with pleasing familiarity), stimulated by the fear of a civil
prosecution, gave them up, and appeared as evidence against the
prisoner. He was found “guilty,” and sentenced to three months’ solitary
confinement, and “to be put under stoppages,” according to the
prescribed formulæ.
But the trial of the man accused of drunkenness and mutinous language
was not so readily disposed of; though the delay occasioned by his
calling witnesses to character served only to add to the irritation of
his virtuous and impartial judges. He was a fine-looking fellow, six
feet high, and had as soldier-like a bearing as any man in the Grenadier
company to which he belonged. The specific acts which constituted his
crime consisted in having refused to leave the canteen when somewhat
vexatiously ordered to do so by the orderly serjeant, who forthwith sent
for a file of the guard to compel him; thus urging him, when in an
excited state, to an act of insubordination, the gist of which was a
threat to knock the serjeant down, a show of resistance, and certain
maledictions on the head of that functionary. In this, as in the former
instance, there could be no doubt that the breach of discipline
complained of had been committed, though several circumstances were
pleaded in extenuation of the offence. The man’s previous character,
too, was very good; he was ordinarily a steady, well-conducted soldier,
never shirked his hour of duty, was not given to drink, and, therefore,
as the principal witness in his favor said, “the more aisily overcome
when he tuck a dhrop, but as harrumless as a lamb, unless put upon.”
These things averred and shown, the Court was cleared, and the members
proceeded to deliberate. It was a question only of the nature and extent
of the punishment to be awarded. The general instructions, no less than
the favorable condition of the case, suggested leniency. But Captain
Huff was a severe disciplinarian of the old school, an advocate for
red-handed practice--the drum head and the halberds--and his opinion, if
it might be called one, had only too much weight with the other members
of the Court, all of whom were prejudiced against the prisoner, whom
they internally--if not openly--condemned for interfering with their
day’s amusements. “Corporal punishment, of course,” said Captain Huff,
angrily; and his words were echoed by the Court, though the majority of
them little knew the fearful import of the sentence, or they might have
paused before they delivered over a fine resolute young man, whose chief
crime was an ebullition of temper, to the castigation of the lash, which
destroys the soldier’s self-respect; degrades him in the eyes of his
fellows; mutilates his body, and leaves an indelible scar upon his mind.
But the fiat went forth, and was recorded in “hundreds” against the
unfortunate fellow; and Captain Huff having managed to sign the
proceedings, carried them off to the commanding officer’s quarters, to
be “approved and confirmed;” a ratification which the Colonel was not
slow to give; for he was one of that class who are in the habit of
reconciling themselves to an act of cruelty, by always asserting in
their defence that “an example is necessary.” He forgot in doing so,
that this was not the way to preserve for the “Hundredth” the name of a
crack corps, and that the best example for those in authority is Mercy.
With minds buoyant and refreshed by the discharge of the judicial
functions, for which they were in every respect so admirably qualified,
Ensign Spoonbill and his companions, giving themselves leave of absence
from the afternoon parade, and having resumed their favorite “mufty,”
repaired to an obscure den in a stable-yard at the back of the Blue
Boar--a low public house in the filthiest quarter of the town--which Mr.
Joseph Baggs made his head-quarters, and there, for a couple of hours,
solaced themselves with the agreeable exhibition of the contest between
the badger and the dog Juno, which terminated by the latter being bitten
through both her fore-paws, and nearly losing one of her eyes; though,
as Lieutenant Wadding exultingly observed, “she was a deuced deal too
game to give over for such trifles as those.” The unhappy badger, that
only fought in self-defence, was accordingly “dror’d,” as Mr. Baggs
reluctantly admitted, adding, however, that she was “nuffin much the
wuss,” which was more than could be said of the officers of the
“Hundredth” who had enjoyed the spectacle.
This amusement ended, which had so far a military character that it
familiarized the spectator with violence and bloodshed, though in an
unworthy and contemptible degree, badgers and dogs, not men, being their
subject, the young gentlemen adjourned to the High Street, to loiter
away half an hour at the shop of Messrs. Moses, Lazarus and Son, whose
religious observances and daily occupations were made their jest, while
they ran in debt to the people from whom they afterwards expected
consideration and forbearance. But not wholly did they kill their time
there. The pretty pastry-cook, an innocent, retiring girl, but compelled
to serve in the shop, came in for her share of their half-admiring and
all insolent persecutions, and when their slang and sentiment were alike
exhausted, they dawdled back again to the barracks, to dress for the
fifth time for mess.
The events of the day, that is, the events on which their thoughts had
been centered, again furnished the theme of the general conversation.
Enough wine was drunk, as Captain Huff said, with the wit peculiar to
him, “to restore the equilibrium;” the most abstinent person being
Captain Cushion, who that evening gave convincing proof of the
advantages of abstinence, by engaging Ensign Spoonbill in a match at
billiards, the result of which was, that Lord Pelican’s son found
himself, at midnight, minus a full half of the allowance for which his
noble father had given him liberty to draw. But that he had fairly lost
the money there could be no doubt, for the officer on the main-guard,
who had preferred watching the game to going his rounds, declared to the
party, when they afterwards adjourned to take a glass of grog with him
before he turned in, that, “except Jonathan, he had never seen any man
make so good a bridge as his friend Spoonbill,” and this fact Captain
Cushion himself confirmed, adding, that he thought, perhaps, he could
afford next time to give points. With the reputation of making a good
bridge--a _Pons asinorum_ over which his money had travelled--Ensign
Spoonbill was fain to be content, and in this satisfactory manner he
closed one Subaltern’s day, there being many like it in reserve.