Part 44 (1/2)

Child's Suttling House at the Horse Guards is the almost exclusive resort of military men, who, availing themselves of the intervals between duty, drop in to enjoy a pipe and pint.

”To fight their battles o'er again, Thrice to conquer all their foes, And thrice to slay the slain.”

In the entrance on the left is a small apartment, bearing the dignified inscription, in legible characters on the door, of ”The Non-Commissioned Officers' Room.” In front of the bar is a larger s.p.a.ce, boxed off, and appropriated to the use of the more humble heroical aspirants, the private men; and pa.s.sing through the bar, looking into Whitehall, is the _Sanctum Sanctorum_, for the reception of the more exalted rank, the golden-laced, three-striped, subordinate commandants, Serjeant-Majors and Serjeants, with the colour-clothed regimental appendants of Paymasters and Adjutants' Clerks, _et cetera_. Into this latter apartment our accomplished friends were ushered with becoming

1 ”Swells then thy feeling heart, and streams thine eye O'er the deserted being, poor and old,

Whom cold reluctant parish-charity Consigns to mingle with his kindred mold.”

--Charlotte Smith.

~334~~ respect to their superior appearance, at the moment when a warm debate was carrying on as to the respective merits of the deceased Napoleon and the hero of Waterloo.

The advocate of the former seemed unconnected with the army: the adherent to the latter appeared in the gaudy array of a Colour-Serjeant of the Foot Guards, and was decorated with a Waterloo medal, conspicuously suspended by a blue ribbon to the upper b.u.t.ton of his jacket; and of this honourable badge the possessor seemed not less vain than if he had been adorned with the insignia of the most n.o.ble order of the Garter.

”I contend, and I defy the universe to prove the contrary,” exclaimed the pertinacious Serjeant in a tone of authoritative a.s.sertion, ”that the Duke of Wellington is a greater man than ever did, does, or hereafter may exist!”

”By no means,” answered the Civilian. ”I admit, so far as a thorough knowledge of military tactics, and a brilliant career of victory const.i.tutes greatness, his grace of Wellington to be a great hero, but certainly not the greatest 'inan that ever did, does, or hereafter may exist!” ”Is there a greater man? Did there ever exist a greater?--when and where?” the Serjeant impatiently demanded.

”Buonaparte was a greater,” answered the opposing disputant; ”because to military renown unparalleled in the annals of ancient or modern history, he added the most consummate knowledge of government; and although his actions might frequently partake of arbitrary sway, (and who is the human being exempted from human frailty) yet he certainly created and sustained, in her most elevated zenith, the splendour of France, till crushed by the union of nations in arms; and if power is the criterion of greatness, who was, is, or ever can be greater than the man, who, emerging from obscurity, raised himself solely by his mental energies to the highest elevation of human glory; and who, this Island excepted, commanded the destinies of all Europe! The most determined of his enemies will not deny, calmly and duly appreciating his merits, that he possessed unrivalled talent; and this fact the hero, whose cause you so vehemently espouse, would, I have no doubt, be the foremost in acknowledging.”

In deficiency of argument, the Serjeant resorted to invective; the vociferous disputation reached the next ~335~~ room, and was taken up by the rank and file in a manner not less tumultuous; when an honest native of the ”Emerald Isle” good-humouredly terminated the war of words, calling for half a quartern of gin, with which to qualify a pint of Whitbread's entire.

”To the immortal memory of St. Patrick, and long life to him!” exclaimed Patrick O'Shaughnessy. ”If there did not exist but them two selves, bad luck to the spalpeen who will say that the Duke and my Lord Londondery would not be the greatest men in the universe!”

This sally led to a cessation of hostilities, which might have been followed by a definitive treaty of peace, but the daemon of discord again made its appearance in the tangible shape of a diminutive personage, who, hitherto silently occupying a snug out-of-the-way corner by the fireplace, had escaped observation.

Dashall and his Cousin emerging from the Sanctum Sanctorum, where their presence seemed to have operated as a check on the freedom of discussion, had just seated themselves in the room allotted to the private soldiers, when, in a broad northern accent, the aforesaid taciturn gentleman, selecting the two strangers, who, of all the company, seemed alone worthy the honour of his notice, thus addressed them:

”I crave your pardon, Sirs--but I guess frae your manner that ye are no unacquainted wi' the movements o' high life--do you ken how lang the King means to prolong his abode amang our neebors owre the water, his hair-brain'd Irish subjects, whase notions o' loyalty hae excited sae mony preposterously antic exhibitions by that volatile race O' people?”

”I am not in possession,” answered Dashall, ”of any information on the subject.”

”By the manes of the Priest,” exclaimed Mr. O'Shaughnessy, ”but the King (G.o.d bless him) has visited the land of green Erin, accompanied by the spirit of harmony, and praties without the sauce of b.u.t.ter-milk be his portion, who does not give them both a hearty welcome!--Arrah, what mane you by a preposterous exhibition? By hecky, the warm hearts of the sons and daughters of St. Patrick have exhibited an unsophisticated feeling of loyalty, very opposite indeed to the chilling indifference, not to say worse of it, of those his subjects at home; and as Sir William, the big Baronet of the City, said in the House ~336~~ that gives laws to the land, Why should not his Majesty be cheered up a little?”

This effusion of loyalty was well received, and Dashall and his Cousin cordially united in the general expression of approbation.

”This is a' vera weel,” said the Northern; ”but an overstrained civility wears ay the semblance o' suspicion, and fulsome adulation canna be vera acceptable to the mind o' delicate feeling: for instance, there is my ain country, and a mair ancient or a mair loyal to its legitimate Sovereign there disna exist on the face o' the whole earth; wad the King condescend to honor wi' his presence the palace o' Holyrod House, he wad experience as ardent a manifestation o' fidelity to his person and government in Auld Reekie as that shown him in Dublin, though aiblins no quite sae tumultuous; forbye, it wadna hae been amiss to hae gaen the preference to a nation whare his ancestors held sway during sae mony centuries, and whare, in the castle of Edinburgh, is still preserved the sacred regalia, with which it migh no hae been unapropos to hae graced his royal head and hand amidst the gratifying pageantry o' a Scotch coronation. Sure I am that North Britain has never been honored publicly wi' a royal visit.--Whether ony branch o' the present reigning family hae been there incognita they best ken themselves.”

”You seem to have forgot,” observed Tallyho, ”the visit of the Duke of c.u.mberland to Scotland in the year 1745.”

”Begging your pardon for setting you right in that particular,” answered the cynic, with a most significant expression of countenance, ”that, Sir, was not a visit, but a visitation!”

”Appropriate enough,” whispered Dashall to Tallyho.

”Augh, boderation to nice distinctions!” exclaimed O'Shaughnessy; ”here, Mister Suttler be after tipping over anoder half quartern of the cratur, wid which to drink success to the royal visitant.”

”And that the company may partic.i.p.ate in the gratifying expression of attachment to their Sovereign, Landlord,” said Dashall, ”let the gla.s.s go round.”

”Testifying our regard for the Sovereign,” resumed the Northern, ”it canna be understood that we include a' the underlings o' Government. We ought, as in duty bound, to venerate and obey the maister o' the house; bat it is ~337~~ by no means necessary that we should pay a similar respect to his ox and his a.s.s, his man-servant and his maid-servant.

May be, had he been at hame on a late occasion o' melancholy solemnity, blood wadna hae been spilt, and mickle dool and sorrow wad hae been avoided.”