cutting the back of the soldier! May they reflect that both the back
and the heart have feeling; and that the tear of repentance is oftener
brought from the culprit’s eyes by kindness than by the lash!
ECCENTRICITIES OF THE LATE MORRIS QUILL.
I knew him, Horatio--a fellow of infinite jest--of most excellent
fancy.
_Shakspeare._
Few indeed are there in the army who have not heard of Morris Quill;
and fewer still are they who have known a better man, or a merrier
companion. He was a medical officer of the 31st regiment--an Irishman,
with one of the softest, soundest, and most gentlemanly brogues that
ever eulogised a bottle of genuine port, or asked a favour from a
wealthy widow’s lip. He was a fine portly, good-humoured looking,
summer-faced son of Erin, with that sort of fun about him which, if
it did not injure himself, carried no sting to the bosom of any body
else, except when his wit was directed to the operation of crushing
some impudent coxcomb; and then it left its penal effects with him
who deserved them. He is now no more, poor fellow! He died at Cork a
short time ago, and his _last march_ was attended by all the military
(both half and full pay) in the city and its vicinity. His memory still
lives; and so long as there shall be a gallant Peninsular hero to sit
at a mess-table, the eccentricities and whims of Morris Quill can never
be forgotten. The few which I recollect will be recognized as genuine
by all those officers who served in the Duke of Wellington’s army. I
knew him: I have known his friends: I have seen and heard of most of
his drolleries; and from the many I select the few which follow.
For the purpose of creating hilarity, Morris would often affect the
greatest simplicity of Irish manners when strangers were at the
mess-table. He would on those occasions tell such anecdotes of
himself, as were calculated to make him appear but little removed from
barbarism; and this always afforded the highest degree of enjoyment
to those who were by, most of whom knew that he was any thing but a
barbarian. I was once present when he played off this whim in a most
laughable way. There were several very prim and “_monstrous_” important
gentlemen dining at the mess--perfect strangers to any thing like a
joke, and equally so to Quill.
As soon as the bottle was fairly adrift, Morris seized an opportunity
of gravely addressing the President. “Colonel,” said he, “I received
a _letther_ to-day from my _ould_ mother in Kerry. Just read the
direction on it. I’m sure ’tis plain enough, and yet it has been two
months coming.” The letter was handed about the table, and the officers
read aloud the address to the perfect astonishment of the visitors.
“_To Misther Docthor Morris Quill, Esquire. Along with Lord
Wellington’s fighting army in France, or Spain, or Portingale, or maybe
elsewhere, and the Western Indys. From his loving mother._”
The gravity with which he managed this piece of humour, excited the
mirth of all his companions, at the expense of the strangers, who
looked very contemptuously on Morris, when they saw this specimen of
the family education. However, before they left the table, all was
explained, and Quill reinstated in their good opinion.
Morris had served in a regiment before he joined the 31st; and one of
his old brother-officers having met him in Dublin, shortly after the
exchange, asked him why he did not stay with his old friends?--“Oh,
I’ll tell you then,” replied Morris. “You see I have a brother in the
32d, and I wanted to be near him in the wars, so I changed into the
31st, which you know is as close as possible to his regiment.” At this
time they happened to be two thousand miles asunder.
With all the apparent simplicity which Quill exhibited, he was as
good a judge of politeness, and knew as well the difference between
gentlemanlike familiarity and impertinent freedom, as any man in the
army; which the following anecdote will in a great measure prove. He
exchanged from the 31st, after having been a long time in the regiment,
for no other purpose but to be attached to one about to go on actual
service, in order that he might have a better chance of promotion.
On joining, he had in his pocket letters from all those officers of
his old corps who had happened to be acquainted with those of the one
into which he exchanged; but he did not take the trouble to present a
single one, lest they would suppose, as he said himself, that he wanted
them to give him a dinner. In a few days after his joining, a very
supercilious officer of the regiment, no less a personage than one of
the majors, met him in the mess-room, _tête-à-tête_, and after a little
conversation, put a very impertinent question to Morris. “Pray, Sir,”
said he, “were not you a considerable time in the 31st?”
“Oh, yes, I was, ’faith.”
“It is a very good corps indeed--very good corps. I wonder you did not
remain in it! Pray, what made you leave it, Sir?”
Morris hesitated a little, and then replied: “Why, ’faith, I don’t
like to mention exactly the reason, Major.”
“God bless me! what was it?”
“Why, you see, Major, I know you are a gentleman every bit of you; and
if you will solemnly pledge me your honour that you will never mention
it to any body, I’ll tell you the whole affair.”
“’Pon my honour, I won’t. I pledge you my honour, I will not mention
it.”
“’Pon your _honour_,” said Morris emphatically.
“’Pon my _honour_!” echoed the Major.
“Well, that’s enough,” observed Morris; “I’ll tell you all about it.
But shut the door, Major.”--The Major obeyed and hurried back to his
chair.--“Well, then, you see, when I was in the 31st, I owed a little
money here and there; and I was bothered with duns--Oh! the 31st was a
fine regiment; it was there we had plenty of credit wherever we went:
more is the pity for me; because I just--one day that I was short of a
little money”--(_whispering_)
“Well, Sir!” interrupted the Major.
“I--a--just--a--put a few of the mess-table spoons and silver forks
into my pocket;--that’s all.”
“Indeed!” observed the Major, drawing back his chair.
“Yes, indeed,” continued Morris; “and a fellow there, dressed up in
livery (they call him the mess-waiter), saw me do it, and stopped me
before the officers;--so I was obliged to leave the regiment; for the
colonel was a civil fellow, and let me off without a court-martial.”
“Indeed!--ho--hum----Good morning, Sir,” _politely_ replied the Major,
and left the room.
Of course a thing of this kind was not suffered to lie hidden under
a bushel half an hour by the Major. He proceeded instantly to the
Colonel, and gravely laid open to him the alarming discovery. The
Colonel lost not a moment in calling a meeting of the mess. The mess
assembled (all excepting Morris, to whom the meeting was not made
known, for obvious reasons), and the Major, in an energetic speech,
informed the mess that he had heard the fact from Mr. Quill’s own
lips, with that gentleman’s solemn injunction upon the Major to be
secret. All were equally astonished and alarmed; each man put his
hand instinctively to his fob; and a little attorney-faced captain
despatched his servant to see if his trunks were all safe. The _mad
dog_ had got amongst them, and there was but one opinion about his
expulsion.
Morris was sent for forthwith:--the orderly-serjeant was despatched to
tell him that the Colonel and the members of the mess were assembled,
and that he was to attend immediately.
The _delinquent_ appeared without the least hesitation, and looking
as pleasantly as ever. On being informed by the Colonel of the cause
of the meeting, he paused, cast his eyes archly at the Major, and
exclaimed, “Ah! Major, Major! so you have told on me, though you
pledged your _honour_!” (_Not a word from the Major._) “Now, Colonel,
the fact of the matter is this: I was asked a question by that
gentleman, which, however he might have meant it, I could not receive
but as a joke (a little too free, I must say), and so I--just answered
him as the joke deserved. The Major, in a way I did not much relish,
asked me, ‘_What was the reason I quitted the 31st?_’ and I gave him
an answer. It was a question of an odd meaning, and so I gave him an
odd reply.” (_A stare and a smile from all except the Major._) “Now,”
continued Morris, pulling out a bundle of letters, “there’s a letter
for you, Colonel; and one for you, Captain Smith; and for you, Captain
Jones; and for you, Lieutenant Edwards:”--so on, until he delivered
the bundle of introductions which he brought from his last regiment.
The letters were read aloud, and better fun was never enjoyed in the
mess-room, nor relished with greater zest before or since; even the
Major
“Join’d in the laugh that almost made him sick;”
and Morris became the favourite of every officer in the regiment,
always excepting the _honourable_ Major himself.
At one period of the Peninsular war, the army was several months in
arrear of pay. Money was not to be got anywhere by the advanced troops,
except in the class of Generals and higher officers. Morris Quill was,
of course, one of those whose purses were empty--indeed there was not a
dollar to be _caught_ in the regiment from right to left.
A general officer was passing with his staff (General Crawford, I
believe) through the village in which Morris was quartered. As soon
as he saw the General, he turned to a brother officer, and said, “By
J----! I’ve a great mind to ask the General for a few dollars.”
“That you may do,” replied the officer; “but I’m sure you will not get
them.”
“Will you bet me £5 I don’t?” returned Morris.
“I will bet you £5 you do not borrow £5 or 20 dollars from _him_.”
“Done. I’ll bet you a bill on the paymaster.”
“Done.”
“Done--and I’ll _dine_ with him too,” said Morris, as he started off on
his poney. He trotted up to the General: taking off his hat in the most
“official” manner,--“General,” said he, “I beg your pardon--I have to
mention to you that my sick are without any _comforts_,[4]--they will
be in a bad way if I cannot buy something for them; and I have no money
at all.”
“Well, Mr. Quill, that is a very unfortunate thing. How much money will
be enough for you?”
“Oh! about 20 dollars, Sir; and if you will lend that sum to me, I will
give you an order on Cox and Greenwood for the money; which you can
send over, and it will be just the same thing to you.”
“Very well, Mr. Quill. Come to my quarters, and you shall have the
money.”
Morris jogged off with the General about two miles to his quarters; and
during the time they were going, the General found him a very pleasant
and humorous fellow. Morris, as he was receiving the money, mentioned
something about the scarcity of provisions, and concluded by saying,
“Faith, General, I don’t know when I had a dinner, or even saw the
ghost of one: there is a very savoury smell here, I can perceive; but
that is a _General_ thing, I suppose, in this quarter.”
The General without hesitation asked Morris to stay to dinner; and
highly enjoyed his society during the evening.
It was eleven o’clock before he returned; when producing the cash, he
convinced his friend and the other officers of his success; so they
finished the night over a cigar and a bottle of ration grog.
Quill, during the whole time he served in the Peninsula, had a servant
who was as whimsical and as humorous as himself. This servant, he used
to say, was “the best caterer for a gentleman’s table in hard times,
that ever came from Kerry.” And so he was; for Morris Quill had always
a fowl or a sucking pig for dinner, when the rest of the officers
(except those who dined with Morris) were obliged to be contented with
a biscuit and a bit of hard beef. Indeed, so excellent a purveyor and
cook was Dennis, that his master made it a practice to ask his friends
to dine with him, without (_of himself_) knowing where the eatables
were to come from. “Dennis,” he would say, “I am going to ask a couple
of gentlemen to dine with me to-day--indeed I _have_ asked them
already. What have you got?”
“Oh musha! Docthor Quill, I don’t know that I have any thing, barrin’ a
shouldther o’ vale and a hen or two.”
(A shoulder of veal! and a brace of fowls! when they were starving!--no
bad things.)--Or, perhaps, as it might happen, Dennis would say,
“Faith! Masther, I havn’t a toothful in the place, barrin’ the
rashions.”
“Well, Dennis, get what you can. Try, can you _buy_ any thing about the
country?”
(_Buy_, indeed! and not a sixpence in the whole division!)
Morris and his friends would come to dinner at the usual hour,
perfectly confident that Dennis had done his duty; and, perhaps, a good
pair of fowls, or a piece of pickled pork, or a sucking pig, would
welcome their longing appetites.
“Where did you buy these things, Dennis?” Quill would ask.
“O! plase your honour, up there above--over the hill--down there, at a
farm-house yondther.”
“You’re _sure_ you _bought_ them, Dennis?”
“O yes; I ped for ’em, Sir--that is, I offered the money to the farmer;
but he said, ‘Never mind, Dennis,’ says he, ‘it will do another time.’
So I mane to pay the next time I go.”
“Very well, very well, Dennis; so as you _paid_ for the provision, it’s
all well; but take care the Provost doesn’t give you your _change_ one
of these days.”
“Oh, never mind that, Sir; the Portuguese hereabouts all knows me very
well, and wouldn’t mind if I never ped them a vintin.”
And they had a right to know Dennis,--at least their _live stock_ had;
for there was scarcely a fowl, rabbit, pig, sheep, or calf in the
country, that he had not paid his respects to. Dennis used to say, “We
are here starvin’ and fightin’ for the Portuguese; so the laste they
may do, is to give us our dinner, _at any rate_.”
The last anecdote of this singular character, which I recollect, is as
follows:--
A very hot engagement had taken place, in which the 31st regiment
had been hard at work. Quill had his instruments, &c. under a hedge
in a valley; at a little distance from the hill which his regiment
was endeavouring to take from the French. He stayed pretty near the
corps, (for Morris was no flincher,) and one of his brother officers
being wounded in the leg, he ran over to him to render what surgical
assistance he could. It was necessary to have something from the
medicine-chest, which was behind the hedge in the valley, and Morris
started off like a hare, to fetch it. At this moment the regiment was
suffering from grape-shot, and the Brigadier-General, who was coming
at a gallop along a narrow lane, saw Quill running, inside a hedge,
as fast as he could, away from the regiment, in the uniform of which
he was; and, thinking it was some cowardly officer who feared the
grape, the General cried out to him, “Where are you going, Sir?” To
which Morris only replied, still running under the hedge, “By J----s!
I won’t stay any longer there; it’s too hot.” The General again cried
out to him, and ordered his aid-de-camp to follow, and march him back a
prisoner; but Morris outran the aid-de-camp’s horse, and arrived before
him at the hedge where his instruments were. When the latter saw who
it was, he well nigh fell off his horse with laughing, as he galloped
back to tell the General his mistake. Morris laughed heartily, too;
and, indeed, he had the laugh all on his own side, as he returned with
the medicaments for which he had gone, to assist his wounded brother
officer, and with which he ran as fast _into_ the field as he had run
_out_ of it.
MESS-TABLE CHAT.
No. III.
“To laugh with gibing boys, and stand the push
Of every beardless vain Comparative.”
SHAKSPEARE.
SCENE.--_The Depôt Mess-room at Winchester--a
tolerably large apartment, more airy than comfortable; neither
carpet nor curtains.--Dinner so so.--Wines of excellent_
MANUFACTURE.--_Company, consisting of fifteen officers,
(mostly youths) of different regiments, and of course in different
uniforms.--Attendants, three recruits in undress, (white
flannel,)--no band; but several dogs barking and scudding about the
lobby_.
_Ensign Newly._ By G--d, I never sat down to so d--d a dinner in my
life; we get worse and worse every day: the fish smells infernally,
and this hash is made of the hard mutton we had on table last Thursday.
Simple, my boy, give us a _sample_ of that old cock turkey before you,
if you can get a knife into him.
_Ensign Simple._ I can’t carve. (_In a whisper._) Captain Alder, will
you cut the turkey? I never carved in my life.
_Capt. Alder._ Very well, Mr. Simple, I’ll try my skill. Hand that
turkey this way, John.
[_One of the attendant recruits takes the dish of turkey, and in
making an unnecessary circuit of the table, flaps down upon his
face; the dish is smashed, and the turkey rolls to the far end of
the mess room, followed by streams of gravy and the regrets of the
company._]
_Ensign Newly._ O, curse you for a clodhopper! Run after the turkey,
you rascal.
[_John runs and takes up the turkey, but drops it immediately._]
_Lieut. Short._ What do you drop the turkey for, Sir, eh?
_John._ (_Blowing his fingers._) It’s roasting hot, zur.
_Capt. Alder._ Send the mess-waiter here, and then go to your duty,
Sir. You are not fit to be a scullion.
[_Exit John; and as he goes out, three pointer dogs and a terrier
run into the mess-room, and skurry about; one of them seizes on the
turkey, but finding it too hot for his palate, drops his prey, and
begins to bark loudly at it. The Mess-waiter and two attendants
arrive in time, and beat out the dogs, after some difficulty, owing
to the canine taste for gravy._]
_Lieut. Grub._ Well, d-- me, if this is not a pretty _mess_. I wish I
was back with my old corps once more, in the wilds of Canada. I never
saw a depôt mess yet that could manage a good servant.
_Capt. Alder._ Never! (_In a whisper._) Did you ever know it to manage
_any thing_ good?
_Lieut. Short._ Mess-waiter! what follows this course?
_Mess-waiter._ Rabbits, and the cold beef, Sir.
_All._ The cold beef! The eternal cold beef!
_Mess-waiter._ Gentlemen, I assure you the market was so bad to-day,
that we could only find that turkey; but the beef is very sweet and
good yet.
_Ensign Newly._ Mind, that we have no hashed or deviled turkey this
week.
[_looking significantly at the dirtied bird._]
_Mess-waiter._ Oh no Sir; we’ll eat this ourselves.
_Ensign Newly._ You will have fine sand sauce then.
[_Hash and harrico are now served out amongst the half-grumbling,
half-laughing mess, but a glass or two of wine restore matters a
little; the rabbits and beef are scarcely tasted, and dinner is
concluded on cheese and stale tarts._]
_Ensign Luby._ Send round the wine, Mr. President. I have just touched
the cash to-day. Old dad has sent me a fifty, and I am determined to be
comfortable.
_President._ Then I’ll send in your wine account to-morrow, my lad.
_Ensign Luby._ Ay, do, do--you’ll not find me like Mr. Trotter, who
marched off yesterday without waiting for his.
_Several._ What! is Trotter off?
_President._ Yes: and in a very ungentlemanly way too. I knew he
couldn’t stand the follies he gave way to--out every night until three,
and never sober.
_Ensign Newly._ I think, Mr. President, as I am a member of the same
corps to which Trotter belongs, you have shown no great proof of taste
in mentioning his name so disrespectfully before me.
_President._ Mr. Newly, I speak of Mr. Trotter as I think he deserves:
he _may_ be very honourable, but I think he outran his means, and
thereby his honour also.
_Several voices (in confusion.)_ Certainly, d--d dishonourable conduct.
_Ensign Luby._ Come, lads, hear me: I know Trotter a little; he is a
good young fellow; but somewhat too free with his cash; he does not
know how to keep it, when he gets it from home. I do not like to see
disputes here,--God knows we have enough of them: last night we were
all made unpleasant by two gentlemen contending that one’s facings
were handsomer than the other’s, and the day before we were thrown
into confusion by an argument between two young gentlemen about
superior rank and services--both not yet two months in the army. Come,
I say--Trotter owes his wine-bill: and for the best of reasons--he
had not money enough left to pay it out of seventy pounds sent by his
father; because, you see, he played Hell and Tommy (as the phrase
goes): so I’ll tell you what--I will _pay it myself_--ay, or any other
friend’s wine-bill; for, as I said before, I touched a _fifty_ to-day.
_President._ If I am wrong, Gentlemen, I’ll appeal to the voice of the
company.
_All._ No! no! It’s all right. Sit down--sit down.
_Ensign Luby._ Bring in the wine quicker, _you_ Glundy--dy’ hear, d--n
ye!
_Glundy._ Yes, Sir.
(_Servant runs out._
_Voice without._ Yoix! there, my lads,--he--he--hip--yoix!--hark
forward, my jolly dogs!--yo--io--io--io--io--hip!
(_Enter Ensign Buckskin._
_Ensign Buckskin._ How are you, my hearty Cocks!--how are you?
_All the Mess._ How are you? How do, Buck? How do?
_President._ Where the devil have you been? eh!
_Ensign Buckskin._ Been! In bed, to be sure--just got up--swallowed a
basin of soup and a small glass of brandy. I was squeamish all the day;
but now I’m to rights again. Waiter!--clean glass. Well, how are you,
my boys?
(_Sits down._
_Ensign Newly._ How are _you_, after your last night’s work--eh?
_Ensign Buckskin._ Oh! by George, Sir, they have taken out a warrant
against me.
_Ensign Newly._ For what?
_Ensign Buckskin._ For burning the old Constable’s nose. Jackson
and Jones are off by coach for Fort Monkton, and so have escaped:
unfortunate Jack Buckskin, as usual, comes in for a “good thing.” I
shall be up before “his _Vorship_,” as the “_Coves_” call him; but d--n
his eyes, I don’t care the rowel of an old spur about any infernal
magistratical methodist in Winchester. Yoix! my lads! ye--he--hip--old
Jack Buckskin against the d----l and all his _saints_.
[_An uproarious laugh from the company, which sets all the dogs
in the house barking, and Buckskin gives a regular “view halloo,”
accompanied by several of the mess._]
_President._ Well, tell us how the matter occurred. Didn’t you knock
the watchman down first?