But where is the £300,000 to come from? The Chancellor of the Exchequer has no money; taxation has reached its limits; and loans are out of the question. What! have free trade and a restricted currency, then, so quickly prostrated the resources of the country, that the nation which, in 1813, with eighteen millions of inhabitants, at the close of a twenty years' costly war, raised £72,000,000 by taxation, and £80,000,000 by loan, cannot now, with thirty millions, for so very important an object, after thirty-three years of unbroken peace, muster up £300,000 a-year? A shilling a gallon on the 6,259,000 gallons of whisky annually consumed inScotland alone, in demoralising the community, would provide the requisite sum, and tend to equalise the ruinous exemption which Scotland now enjoys in the manufacture of that attractive and pernicious liquor. A similar duty on the 12,000,000 gallons annually consumed in England, would raise double the sum. But if government, despite the £100,000,000 we were promised by free trade, cannot afford £300,000 a-year for this vital object, let it be laid on the counties as part of the prison or county rates. A little reflection would soon show every person of sense in the country, that its amount could speedily be saved in prison and poor rates.
Simultaneously with this change, an alteration, equally loudly called for, should take place in the administration of our criminal law at home. The present system of inflicting short imprisonments at first, and reserving long imprisonments and transportation for criminals who have plied theirtrade of pillage for two or three years, should be abolished. Imprisonment should consist of three kinds:—1. A very short imprisonment, perhaps of a week or ten days, for the youngest criminals and a first trifling offence, intended to terrify merely. 2. For a second offence, however trivial—or a first, if considerable, and indicating an association with professional thieves—a long imprisonment ofnine months or a year, sufficientto teach every one a trade, should invariably be inflicted. 3. The criminal who has been thus imprisoned, and taught a trade, should, when next convicted, beinstantly transported. In this way a triple advantage would be gained. 1. The immense number of prisoners now constantly in confinement in the British islands would be materially lessened, and the prison-rates proportionally relieved. 2. The cost of now maintaining a convict in one of the public penitentiaries, to prepare him for transportation, not less than £17 or £18, would be almost entirely saved; he would be prepared for it, in the great majority of cases, by his previous imprisonment. 3. The character and habits of the convicts sent out would be materially improved, by getting comparatively young and untainted men for penal labour, instead of old offenders, who have learned no other trade than that of thieving. To the country it would undoubtedly save £60 or £80 on each criminal transported, by removing him at the commencement of his career, when his reformation was possible, instead of waiting till its close, when he had lived for three or four years in flash-houses and prisons at the public expense, paid in depredations or prison rates, and acquired nothing but habits which rendered any change of character abroad difficult, if not impossible. The prisons would become, instead of mere receptacles of vice, great houses of industry, where the most dangerous and burdensome part of our population would be trained for a life of industry and utility in the colonies.
For a similar reason, the great object in poor-houses, houses of refuge, hospitals, and other institutions where the destitute poor children are maintained at the public expense, or that of foundations bequeathed by the piety of former times, should be to prepare the young of both sexes, by previous education, for the habits and duties of colonists; and, when they become adults, tosend them abroad at the expense of the public or the institution. Incalculable would be the blessings which would ensue, both to the public morals and the public expenditure, from the steady adoption of this principle. It is a lamentable fact, well known to all practically acquainted with this subject, that a large proportion of the orphan or destitute boys, educated in this manner at the public expense, in public institutions, become thieves, and nearly all the girls prostitutes. It could not be otherwise with young creatures of both sexes, turned out without a home, relation, or friend, shortly after the age of puberty, into the midst of an old and luxurious community, overloaded with labour, abounding in snares, thickly beset with temptations. Removed to Australia, the Cape, or Canada, they might do well, and would prove as great a blessing in those colonies, where labour is dear, women wanted, and land boundless, as they are a burden here, where labour is cheap, women redundant, and land all occupied. Every shilling laid out in the training the youth of both sexes in such situations, for the duties of colonial life, and sending them to it when adults, would save three in future prison or poor rates. A pauper or criminal, costing the nation £15 or £20 a-year, would be converted into an independent man living on his labour, and consuming £7 or £8 worth yearly of the manufactures of his native country.
The number of emigrants who now annually leave the British shores, is above 250,000![14]No such migration of mankind is on record since the days when the Goths and Vandals overthrew the Roman empire, and settled amidst its ruins. It might naturally have been supposed that so prodigious a removal of persons, most of them inthe prime of life, would have contributed in a material degree to lighten the market of labour, and lessen the number of persons who, by idleness or desperation, are thrown into habits of crime. But the result has been just the reverse; and perhaps nothing has contributed so powerfully to increase crime, and augment destitution among the labouring classes of late years, as this very emigration. The reason is evident. It is for the most partthe wrong class which has gone abroad. It is the employer, not the employed; the holders of little capitals, not the holders of none. Left to its own unaided resources, emigration could be undertaken only by persons possessed of some funds to pay their passage. It took £100 to transport a family to Australia; £20 or £30 to America. The destitute, the insolvent, the helpless, could not get away, and they fell in overwhelming and crushing multitudes on the parish funds, county rates, and charity of the benevolent at home. Labour became everywhere redundant, because so many of the employers of labour had gone away. The grand object for all real lovers of their country now, should be to induce government or the counties to provide means for the emigration, on a large scale, of destitutelabourers, chained by their poverty to the soil. About 150,000 persons have annually emigrated from Ireland for the last three years, carrying with them above half its agricultural capital; and the consequence is, that in many districts the land is uncultivated,and the banknotes in circulation, which, in 1846, were £7,500,000, have sunk in August 1849 to £3,833,000![15]The small cultivators, the employers of the poor, have disappeared, and with them their capital—leaving only to the owners of land a crowd of starving, unemployed labourers, to consume their rents. A million of such starving labourers now oppress the industry of Ireland. Such is the result of agitation at home, and free trade in emigration abroad. The American papers tell us, that each of these starving Irishmen, if strong and healthy, is worth 1000 dollars to the United States. Free-trade emigration can never send them out—it can transport only those who can pay. A large increase of penal emigration, coupled with such a proportionate influx, at the public expense, of free settlers, as would prevent it from becoming an evil, at once solves the transportation question, and is the first step in the right direction in that of Emigration.
FOOTNOTES:[1]Prison Report 1848, p. 73.[2]In 1848, the number committed for serious offences was 73,770.[3]See the "Increase of Crime, and Imprisonment, and Transportation,"Blackwood's Magazine, May and July 1844, vol. lv. p. 532, and vol. lvi. p. 1.[4]Table showing the number of commitments for serious offences in the undermentioned years in England, Scotland, and Ireland:—Years.England.Scotland.Ireland.Total.183723,6123,12624,80451,542183823,0943,41825,72352,235183924,4433,40926,39254,244184027,1873,87223,83354,892184127,7603,56220,77652,118184231,3094,18921,18656,684184329,5913,61520,12653,332184426,5423,57719,44849,565184524,3093,53716,69644,542184625,1072,90118,49246,500184728,8334,63531,20964,677184830,3494,90938,522*73,770—Parliamentary Returns, 1842-8.* Irish Rebellion.[5]Brougham'sColonial Policy, i. 61, 62.[6]Cunningham'sNew South Wales, i. 262.[7]Table showing the annual exports of British manufactures to the undermentioned Colonies, from 1828 to 1846.Years.Canada, &c. Without Convicts.The Cape, Without Convicts.Australia, With Convicts.1828£1,691,044£218,849£443,83918291,581,723257,501310,68118301,857,133330,036314,67718312,089,327257,245398,47118322,075,725292,405466,32818332,092,550346,197558,37218341,671,069304,382716,01418352,158,158326,921696,34518362,732,291482,315835,63718372,141,035488,811921,56818381,992,457623,3231,336,66218393,047,671464,1301,679,39018402,847,913417,0912,004,38518412,947,061384,5741,269,35118422,333,525369,076916,16418431,751,211502,5771,211,81518443,076,861420,151744,48218453,555,954648,7491,201,07618463,308,059480,9791,441,640—Porter'sParliamentary Tables, 1846, p. 121. Exports, per head, to the following countries in 1836.Population.Exports.Proportion per head.United States of America,14,000,000£12,425,605£0 17 6Canada, &c.,1,500,0002,739,2911 16 0British West India Islands,900,0003,786,4533 12 0Australia,100,000835,6378 14 0—Porter'sParliamentary Tables.[8]It now (1849) exceeds 200,000 souls.[9]Colonial Magazine, i. 431, 433.[10]While we write these lines, the following advertisement, which appeared in theTimesof Oct. 10, will illustrate this vital difference:—"Emigration.—The undersigned are prepared to forward intending emigrants to every colony now open for colonisation, at the following rates of passage-money:—To Sydney, £15; Melbourne, £15; Adelaide, £15; Swan River, £20; Van Diemen's Land, £20; New Zealand, £18; Cape of Good Hope, £10; Natal, £10; California, £25; New York, £2, 10s.; Philadelphia, £2, 10s.; New Orleans, £3.—Harrison & Co.—11 Union Street, Birmingham."[11]Emigrants from Great Britain and Ireland to Australia and New Zealand:—1830,1,2421836,3,1241842,8,5341831,1,5611837,5,0541843,3,4781832,3,7331838,14,0211844,2,2291833,4,0931839,15,7261845,8301834,2,8001840,15,8501846,2,2271835,1,8601841,32,625—Porter'sParliamentary Tables, 1846, p. 236.[12]Sentenced to be transported—England.Scotland.Ireland.Total.1846,280535275338101847,2896456218555371848,32514592678*6388* Rebellion.—Parliamentary Returns, 1846-8.[13]At the rate of £7, 14s. a-head—the present rate in Australia.[14]Viz.:—1847, 258,000; 1848, 248,000; 1849, understood to be still larger.—Parliamentary Reports.[15]SeeDublin University Magazine, October 1849, p. 372.
[1]Prison Report 1848, p. 73.
[1]Prison Report 1848, p. 73.
[2]In 1848, the number committed for serious offences was 73,770.
[2]In 1848, the number committed for serious offences was 73,770.
[3]See the "Increase of Crime, and Imprisonment, and Transportation,"Blackwood's Magazine, May and July 1844, vol. lv. p. 532, and vol. lvi. p. 1.
[3]See the "Increase of Crime, and Imprisonment, and Transportation,"Blackwood's Magazine, May and July 1844, vol. lv. p. 532, and vol. lvi. p. 1.
[4]Table showing the number of commitments for serious offences in the undermentioned years in England, Scotland, and Ireland:—Years.England.Scotland.Ireland.Total.183723,6123,12624,80451,542183823,0943,41825,72352,235183924,4433,40926,39254,244184027,1873,87223,83354,892184127,7603,56220,77652,118184231,3094,18921,18656,684184329,5913,61520,12653,332184426,5423,57719,44849,565184524,3093,53716,69644,542184625,1072,90118,49246,500184728,8334,63531,20964,677184830,3494,90938,522*73,770—Parliamentary Returns, 1842-8.* Irish Rebellion.
[4]Table showing the number of commitments for serious offences in the undermentioned years in England, Scotland, and Ireland:—
Years.England.Scotland.Ireland.Total.183723,6123,12624,80451,542183823,0943,41825,72352,235183924,4433,40926,39254,244184027,1873,87223,83354,892184127,7603,56220,77652,118184231,3094,18921,18656,684184329,5913,61520,12653,332184426,5423,57719,44849,565184524,3093,53716,69644,542184625,1072,90118,49246,500184728,8334,63531,20964,677184830,3494,90938,522*73,770
* Irish Rebellion.
[5]Brougham'sColonial Policy, i. 61, 62.
[5]Brougham'sColonial Policy, i. 61, 62.
[6]Cunningham'sNew South Wales, i. 262.
[6]Cunningham'sNew South Wales, i. 262.
[7]Table showing the annual exports of British manufactures to the undermentioned Colonies, from 1828 to 1846.Years.Canada, &c. Without Convicts.The Cape, Without Convicts.Australia, With Convicts.1828£1,691,044£218,849£443,83918291,581,723257,501310,68118301,857,133330,036314,67718312,089,327257,245398,47118322,075,725292,405466,32818332,092,550346,197558,37218341,671,069304,382716,01418352,158,158326,921696,34518362,732,291482,315835,63718372,141,035488,811921,56818381,992,457623,3231,336,66218393,047,671464,1301,679,39018402,847,913417,0912,004,38518412,947,061384,5741,269,35118422,333,525369,076916,16418431,751,211502,5771,211,81518443,076,861420,151744,48218453,555,954648,7491,201,07618463,308,059480,9791,441,640—Porter'sParliamentary Tables, 1846, p. 121. Exports, per head, to the following countries in 1836.Population.Exports.Proportion per head.United States of America,14,000,000£12,425,605£0 17 6Canada, &c.,1,500,0002,739,2911 16 0British West India Islands,900,0003,786,4533 12 0Australia,100,000835,6378 14 0—Porter'sParliamentary Tables.
[7]Table showing the annual exports of British manufactures to the undermentioned Colonies, from 1828 to 1846.
Years.Canada, &c. Without Convicts.The Cape, Without Convicts.Australia, With Convicts.1828£1,691,044£218,849£443,83918291,581,723257,501310,68118301,857,133330,036314,67718312,089,327257,245398,47118322,075,725292,405466,32818332,092,550346,197558,37218341,671,069304,382716,01418352,158,158326,921696,34518362,732,291482,315835,63718372,141,035488,811921,56818381,992,457623,3231,336,66218393,047,671464,1301,679,39018402,847,913417,0912,004,38518412,947,061384,5741,269,35118422,333,525369,076916,16418431,751,211502,5771,211,81518443,076,861420,151744,48218453,555,954648,7491,201,07618463,308,059480,9791,441,640
Population.Exports.Proportion per head.United States of America,14,000,000£12,425,605£0 17 6Canada, &c.,1,500,0002,739,2911 16 0British West India Islands,900,0003,786,4533 12 0Australia,100,000835,6378 14 0
[8]It now (1849) exceeds 200,000 souls.
[8]It now (1849) exceeds 200,000 souls.
[9]Colonial Magazine, i. 431, 433.
[9]Colonial Magazine, i. 431, 433.
[10]While we write these lines, the following advertisement, which appeared in theTimesof Oct. 10, will illustrate this vital difference:—"Emigration.—The undersigned are prepared to forward intending emigrants to every colony now open for colonisation, at the following rates of passage-money:—To Sydney, £15; Melbourne, £15; Adelaide, £15; Swan River, £20; Van Diemen's Land, £20; New Zealand, £18; Cape of Good Hope, £10; Natal, £10; California, £25; New York, £2, 10s.; Philadelphia, £2, 10s.; New Orleans, £3.—Harrison & Co.—11 Union Street, Birmingham."
[10]While we write these lines, the following advertisement, which appeared in theTimesof Oct. 10, will illustrate this vital difference:—
"Emigration.—The undersigned are prepared to forward intending emigrants to every colony now open for colonisation, at the following rates of passage-money:—To Sydney, £15; Melbourne, £15; Adelaide, £15; Swan River, £20; Van Diemen's Land, £20; New Zealand, £18; Cape of Good Hope, £10; Natal, £10; California, £25; New York, £2, 10s.; Philadelphia, £2, 10s.; New Orleans, £3.—Harrison & Co.—11 Union Street, Birmingham."
[11]Emigrants from Great Britain and Ireland to Australia and New Zealand:—1830,1,2421836,3,1241842,8,5341831,1,5611837,5,0541843,3,4781832,3,7331838,14,0211844,2,2291833,4,0931839,15,7261845,8301834,2,8001840,15,8501846,2,2271835,1,8601841,32,625—Porter'sParliamentary Tables, 1846, p. 236.
[11]Emigrants from Great Britain and Ireland to Australia and New Zealand:—
1830,1,2421836,3,1241842,8,5341831,1,5611837,5,0541843,3,4781832,3,7331838,14,0211844,2,2291833,4,0931839,15,7261845,8301834,2,8001840,15,8501846,2,2271835,1,8601841,32,625
—Porter'sParliamentary Tables, 1846, p. 236.
[12]Sentenced to be transported—England.Scotland.Ireland.Total.1846,280535275338101847,2896456218555371848,32514592678*6388* Rebellion.—Parliamentary Returns, 1846-8.
[12]Sentenced to be transported—
England.Scotland.Ireland.Total.1846,280535275338101847,2896456218555371848,32514592678*6388
—Parliamentary Returns, 1846-8.
[13]At the rate of £7, 14s. a-head—the present rate in Australia.
[13]At the rate of £7, 14s. a-head—the present rate in Australia.
[14]Viz.:—1847, 258,000; 1848, 248,000; 1849, understood to be still larger.—Parliamentary Reports.
[14]Viz.:—1847, 258,000; 1848, 248,000; 1849, understood to be still larger.—Parliamentary Reports.
[15]SeeDublin University Magazine, October 1849, p. 372.
[15]SeeDublin University Magazine, October 1849, p. 372.
BY AN OLD PENINSULAR.
On the evening of the 13th of February last, I was sitting in my library, at my residence in —— Square, when a double knock at the door announced the postman. Betty presently entered, bringing, not as I anticipated, a letter or two, but a small packet, which evidently excited her curiosity, as it did mine.
The first thing upon the said packet that caught my eye was a large seal of red wax—the royal arms!—then, above the direction, "On Her Majesty's service!"—just beneath, the word, "Medal!" Yes, the medal that I had earned five-and-thirty years before, in the hard-fought fight on the hill of Toulouse—long expected, it was come at last! And, let me tell you, a very handsome medal, too; well designed, well executed; and accompanied with a very civil letter, from that old soldier, and true soldier's friend, Lord Fitzroy Somerset, the military secretary. This letter being, no doubt, precisely the same as hundreds of "Old Peninsulars" have by this time received, I presume I am guilty of no breach of confidence in here transcribing it for the benefit of my readers:—
"Horse-Guards, 31st January 1849.
"Sir,—I am directed by the Commander-in-Chief to transmit to you the Medal and Clasps graciously awarded to you by her Majesty under the general order of the first of June 1847. I have the honour to be, &c.
"Sir,—I am directed by the Commander-in-Chief to transmit to you the Medal and Clasps graciously awarded to you by her Majesty under the general order of the first of June 1847. I have the honour to be, &c.
"Fitzroy Somerset."
As I never attempt to describe my own feelings, except such as are describable, I shall not relate what I now felt on the receipt of this much desired, anxiously expected medal. But this I will say;—long live the Queen! long live Queen Victoria! God bless her! Oh, it was a kind thought: it was a gracious act. It comes to cheer the heart of many an old soldier, and of many a middle-aged gentleman like myself, who got nothing but honour and aching bones for his share in the Peninsular glories; and now has something that he can add to the archives of his family, and leave to those who come after him. "Graciously awarded to you by her Majesty:" Yes; and I feel it as much so, as if her Majesty's own gracious hands had placed it in mine. And, if ever she wants defenders, so long as this arm can wield—but enough: romance would be out of place.
After the delivery of the medals had been proceeding for some time, I was coming, one morning, out of the Horse-Guards, when I met old Major Snaffle, who had just got his. The major belongs to that class who are known in the army by the name of "grumblers;" and, having been knocked down by the wind of a shot at the Trocadero, having been brought away in the last boat but nineteen from Corunna, having seen the battle of Salamanca from the top of a tree, having been seized with the ague but an hour before the storming of Badajoz, having again been very ill in the south of France from eating unripe grapes, having regularly drawn his pay and allowances, and never having been absent from his regiment on sick leave when he could not get it, now justly deems himself a very ill-used man, because more has not been done for him. "Well, major," said I, "I wish you joy. So you have got your medal at last." "Yes," growled the major, or rather grunted, "at last Ihavegot it. Long time, though, six-and-thirty years—long time to wait for half-a-crown."
My own profession, at present, is very different from that of arms. Nor can I presume, having been in but one general action, to rank with those brave old fire-eaters of the Peninsular army, whose medals withmanyclasps—bar above bar—tell of six, seven, eight, critical combats or more, in which they took a part under the illustrious Wellington, in Portugal, in Spain, in the south of France. By the bye, how I should like to see the Duke's own medal! What a lot of barsHEmust have!—what a glorious ladder, step rising above step in regular succession, when he sits down to soup in his field-marshal's coat! But I was going to say—to return from great things to small—so far from being able to claim high military honours for myself, though serving under his Grace's orders in the Peninsular war, I was not there at all in a strictly military capacity. Yet as, from this very circumstance, I had opportunities of seeing scenes, characters, and incidents, connected with the British army, of a different kind from those described by other writers on the subject, I am induced, by the arrival of my medal, to place on record a short narrative of my personal adventures in the Peninsula and south of France.
Yet, ere I commence the yarn, a word, one word, for the honoured dead. Many, who came home safe from the Peninsula, fell at Waterloo. Others were borne from the western ports of Europe across the Atlantic, to be marks for Kentucky riflemen and New England bushfighters. Of the survivors, multitudes upon multitudes have gradually dropped off; and those who now remain, of the legions that conquered at Vimeira, at Vittoria, and at Orthes, to receive her Majesty's gracious gift, are probably fewer in number than those who are gone. One "Old Peninsular" I have heard of, in whose own family and connexions, had all lived, there would have been fourteen or fifteen claimants of the medal. He is now, if he still survives, the only one left. In my own connexions we should have made seven; and now, besides myself, there remains only one venerable uncle, who is comfortably located in a snug berth in Canada. There was my honoured father, who received the thanks of parliament for his services at Corunna, and pounded the French batteries at Cadiz. There was my cousin, Tom Impett, of the 53d, whom I found with a musket-ball in his leg two days after the battle of Toulouse, in a house full of wounded men and officers. He died in Canada. There was another venerable uncle, as kind an uncle as ever breathed, and as honest a man as ever lived. He died, to his honour, far from rich, after having been personally responsible for millions upon millions of public money, the sinews of war, all paid away in hard cash for our Peninsular expenses. He was generally known at headquarters by a comical modification of his two Christian names. There was Captain, afterwards Colonel B——, of the Royal Engineers, a quiet, mild-tempered man, with military ardour glowing in his breast—the man of education and the gentleman. We met near the platform of St Cyprien; and he had the kindness to entertain me with a calm disquisition on the fight, while we were both in the thick of it. He had his share of professional employment in the Peninsular sieges, and got a bad wound or two; but lived to fortify Spike Island, and was at length lost at sea. And then there was colonel H——, who commanded a Portuguese brigade with the rank of brigadier-general—an extraordinary composition of waggery, shrewdness, chivalry, and professional talent. He came down to Lisbon while I was there, on his way to England, quite worn out with hard service and the effect of his wounds, or, as he told us himself, "unripped at every seam." He died not many days after, on his passage to England.
Now for myself. I commenced keeping my terms at Trinity College, Cambridge, in the year 1809, the seventeenth of my age. A college life was not altogether my own choice; for nearly all the males of my family, for three generations, had served or were serving their country either in the army, navy, or marines, to the number of some ten or twelve; and I myself had always looked forward to wearing the king's uniform. Moreover, as the Peninsular war had already commenced when I went to college, and I had learned at school the use of the broadsword and small sword, had been drilled, and could handle a musket, my thoughts often turned to military scenes, especially when I read in the daily journals of victories won, first by Sir Arthur Wellesley, then by Lord Wellington. But, once at Cambridge, I caught thefever of academic emulation. My cousin B—— (brother of the Captain B—— above mentioned,) had been senior wrangler, and had given me some useful hints as to the mode of reading with effect; I read hard, obtained a Trinity scholarship in my first year, first class the same year, ditto the second year, and stood fair for a place among the wranglers. But now my health broke; not, however, from hard living, but from hard study. I was compelled to give up; and, not choosing to read for a middling degree after having been booked for a high one, determined to go out among the hoys. Now my penchant for military adventure returned with full force. I was miserably out of health, with an excellent constitution—in proof of which I always found that I lost ground by nursing, but gained by a rough open-air life. A campaign or two would be just the thing for me. And I beg to offer this suggestion to growing young gentlemen who are sickly, and consequently hipped, as I was. If, with rough living—that is, with much moving about, and constant exposure to the atmosphere—you grow worse, I can give you no comfort; you are a poor creature, take all the care of yourself you can. But if, with the same kind of life, you grow better, stronger, stouter, heartier, saucier, depend upon it, you have some stamina. This was my case. I saw that a sedentary life was not the life I was made for; an active life was the life for me; and my thoughts dwelt more and more on the Peninsula. I rubbed up my French, procured a Gil Blas in Spanish, ditto in Portuguese, a Portuguese and a Spanish grammar, and, for a sick man, made wonderful progress in all the three languages.
But, alas! there was a hitch. I was an only son, and an only child—intended for thelaw! My dear father had already made me a present, while at school, of FortescueDe Laudibus; and I had already gobbled up a portion of that excellent work—for I was always an omnivorous reader—and had digested it too. And then what would my dear mother say, if I talked to her about going to be shot at for the benefit of my health? It was a delicate point to manage, and how to manage it I knew not.
In the long vacation of 1812, which closed my third year at Trinity College, Cambridge, I brought matters to an explanation. My father's ship, the——, 74, was then in the Downs, and we had lodgings on Walmer beach. I stated my desire to enter the army, and my firm conviction that nothing else would restore my shattered constitution. But my father was inflexible, my mother answered all my arguments, and I saw that I had no chance.
But when one way of gaining an object fails, another sometimes presents itself. My two uncles, of whom I have spoken, were already in the Peninsula, both of them in the same department, the senior at the head of it, with the privilege of occasionally nominating his own clerks. Their friends in England heard from them now and then; and I saw a letter from my senior uncle to a particular old crony of his own, who had influential connexions, asking him why he did not come out to the army with the rank of A. D. P. M. G.,[16]instead of staying at home, and eating roast pig for supper.
Like all the hipped, a miserable race, I was constantly thinking about myself; and now a happy thought struck me. As to parliamentary interest, to be sure I had none. Besides, being under one-and-twenty, I was not of an age to aspire to an officer's rank, in a department of so much responsibility as the paymaster-general's; therefore, the above standing of assistant-deputy, which put an epaulet on the shoulder at once, was not to be thought of. But then, if Buonaparte would only have the kindness to keep us in hot water two or three years longer, I might rise to the said rank by previous good conduct in the office of clerk, and that my uncle could get me at once.
I again broke ground with my honoured parents. My father assured me that, if I went to Lisbon, where he had been stationed with his ship, I should find it a hell upon earth: though I afterwards learned that he had contrived to spend a tolerably happy life there. "And as to your being attached to headquarters, and following the movements of the army, I," said he, "have seen quite enough of service ashore to be able to tell you that you will be soon sick of that." But, to cut the story short, my dear mother now began to incline to my view of the subject. To be sure a clerkship was not exactly what they had thought of for me—but it might lead to something better—no man's education was complete without a tour on the Continent—the usual tour through France, Italy, and the south of Germany, was rendered impossible by the war—and where, in all Europe, could a young man travel, except in Spain and Portugal? Fighting, and paying those who fought, were different things—I might keep out of the way of bullets, and yet contrive to see the world. In short, these arguments prevailed. A letter was written out to my uncle, begging him to write a letter to the head office in London, nominating me as one of his clerks for Peninsular service. I went back to Cambridge, attacked Spanish and Portuguese with renewed ferocity, took my degree of A. B., and returned home in the early part of 1813, just in time to meet a letter from the best of uncles, stating that he had written to the home authorities, and was anxiously expecting my valuable assistance in the Peninsula.
Nothing was now wanting but the nomination from London. That anxious month! Morning after morning I watched for the postman's knock; and, at every such summons, it was myself that opened the door to him. But great bodies move slowly, and official dignity delights to announce itself by tardiness of action. At length the wished-for communication arrived; a letter, "On His Majesty's Service," of no common magnitude; a seal of correspondent amplitude; and an intimation, in terms of stately brevity, that I was appointed a clerk of the military chest attached to the Peninsular army, and was to attend at the office in London to receive my instructions.
During that month the bustle of preparation, in our usually quiet domicile, had been immense. Stockings sufficient to set up a Cheapside hosier, shirts enough for a voyage to India, flannel commensurate with a visit to the North Pole—everything, in short, that could be thought of, was prepared for the occasion with kind and provident care. I said farewell, reached London, reported myself, got my orders and an advance, booked my place for Falmouth, and found myself the same evening a passenger to Exeter by the fast coach.
In those times, the journey from London to Falmouth by the fast coach was a light off-hand affair of two nights and two days. We reached Exeter on the second night, and there I was allowed the indulgence of three hours' bed, till the Falmouth coach was ready to start. As part of the said three hours was occupied in undressing and dressing, and part also in saying my prayers, I entered the new vehicle far more disposed for sleep than for conversation. But there I found, to my consternation, a very chatty passenger, perfectlyfresh! He was a man of universal information—in short, a talented individual, and an intellectual character; had his own ideas upon morals, politics, theology, physics, metaphysics, and general literature; was particularly anxious to impart them; and was travelling to obtain orders in the rum and hollands line. Ah, what a night was that! Oh the dismal suffering which a prosy talker inflicts on a weary head! Of all nuisances, the most unconscious is the bore. I do think the Speaker of the House of Commons is the most ill-used man in the three kingdoms. Reflect: he must not only hear—he mustlisten! And then think what a time!—hour after hour, and day after day! For a period amounting, in the aggregate, to no small portion of the life of man, must that unfortunate victim of British institutions sit and hearken to
"Now a louder, now a weaker,Now a snorter, now a squeaker;How I pity Mr Speaker!"
"Now a louder, now a weaker,Now a snorter, now a squeaker;How I pity Mr Speaker!"
Some portion of such suffering I myself was now compelled to endure, by my communicative friend in the Falmouth coach. To be sure, it was only a single proser; but then there was variety in one. He commenced by a few remarks on the weather, by which he introduced a disquisition on meteorology. He then passed, by an easy transition, to the question of secondary punishments; glanced at the theory of gravitation; dwelt for some time on heraldry; touched on hydrostatics; was large on logarithms; then digressed on the American war; proposed emendations of our authorised version; discussed the Neptunian theory; and at length suspended his course, to inform me that I was decidedly the most agreeable fellow-traveller he had ever met with. The fact is, I was sitting up all this time in the corner of the coach, in a state of agony and indignation indescribable, meditating some mode of putting a stop to the annoyance, and mentally seeking a solution to the question—What right has a very stupid person to make your brain a thoroughfare for his stupid ideas, especially when you would particularly like to go to sleep? He mistook my silence for attention, and thought he was appreciated. This went on till daylight—continued to breakfast-time—proceeded during breakfast—ceased not when we had re-entered the coach-talk, talk, talk,de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis—still the same stream of stuff. That long, that dreary journey from Exeter to Falmouth! The soft lull of somnolency came at length to my relief; and I began to nod my assent, much to my tormentor's gratification. But presently I was dead asleep; and, most unfortunately, my head dropped forward into the pit of his stomach. The breath, knocked out of his body, escaped with a gasp, like an Indian's "ugh!" In a moment I was broad awake, and made a thousand apologies, which he politely accepted, and renewed the thread of his discourse. Again, I dropped off; and again my head dropped forward. Another "ugh!" another ocean of apologies, another resumption of the endless yarn. The other passengers, two sedate and remarkably silent gentlemen of Falmouth, in broad-brimmed hats and drab coats of a peculiar cut, had each his weather-eye open, and began to enjoy the joke amazingly. Gradually, once more, the incessant clack subsided in my ears to a pleasing hum; I was off; the cervical, dorsal, and lumbar muscles once more lost their tension beneath the narcotic influence of incessant sound; and my drowsy head gave a pitch as before, with the same results—"ugh!"—apologies unlimited—ditto accepted—and more yarn. The Quakers—I beg their pardon, the "Friends"—are, you must know, eminently humourists. This, please to take notice, arises from their superior intelligence, and high degree of mental culture; the result of which is high susceptibility. You might now have seen, in our two fellow-travellers in the Falmouth coach, what you would see nowhere but in their "connexion"—two men ready to die of laughing, and each looking as grave as a judge. For a few miles it went on. Talk—sleep—head pitched into bread-basket—"ugh!"—pungent and profound regrets—regrets accepted—talk recommenced—and so on with a perpetualda capo. At length the most gifted of gratuitous lecturers began to perceive that he was contributing to the amusement of the party in a way that he had not intended, and grew indignant. But I pacified him, as we drove into Falmouth, by politely soliciting a card of his house; stepped out of the coach into the coffee-room of the hotel, out of the coffee-room into bed as soon as it was ready, and made up for two sleepless nights by not coming down to breakfast till two o'clock the next day.
The Lisbon packet was not to sail for a week. My extra baggage arrived in due time by the heavy; and I occupied the interval, as best I could, in a pedestrian survey of the environs of Falmouth, walks to Truro, Pendennis Castle, &c. I was much delighted with clouted cream, and gave the landlady an unlimited order always to let me have a john dory for dinner, when there was one in the market. N.B.—No place like Falmouth for john dories. Clouted cream always ask for, when you go into the West—very good with tea, not bad with coffee; andmem., unimpeachable with apple-pie.
The packet, that was to have the honour of conveying me from Falmouth to Lisbon, was a little tub of a gun-brig, yclept the Princess Wilhelmina. Judging from her entire want of all the qualities requisite for the service on which she was employed, I presume she must have obtained the situation through some member of parliament. Her captain was laid up with the gout; and we were to be commanded by the mate, who turned out to be a Yankee, and an ugly customer; but more of him anon. At the same hotel where I had established myhabitat, was a military party, three in number, waiting, like myself, for the sailing of the packet; yet not, like myself, men fresh in the service, but all three regular "Peninsulars"—men who had returned on leave from the British army, and were now about to join, in time for the opening of the campaign. They had established themselves in a front drawing-room on the first floor, seemed very fond of music, and had good voices. But as they always sang together, and each sang his own song, it was not easy to determine the vocal powers of each. The coffee-room was quite good enough for me; and there I had the honour of forming the acquaintance of another fellow-voyager that was to be—a partner in a large London house in the Manchester line, whom, to avoid personality, I beg leave to distinguish by the name of Gingham. He had many of the peculiarities of Cockneyism, and some that were entirely his own; but I found him a very pleasant companion, and we perambulated the town and neighbourhood in company.
My first chapter brought me, on my way to Portugal, as far as the Royal Hotel, Falmouth. At this stage of my travels, I must beg to detain the reader for a short space; for here it is that I may be said to have had my seasoning; here, in fact, I obtained my first introduction to military society, and to military life, as it prevailed at the British headquarters in the Peninsula. This advantage I gained by falling in with the party of "Peninsulars" already mentioned, who were on their way out, like myself. I must also make my readers better acquainted with my friend Gingham, whom I hope they will not dislike on further knowledge. Gingham and I afterwards campaigned in company. I must premise that he had a touch of romance; and, as I afterwards discovered, had not been brought up as a merchant.
It was the early spring of 1813: a year big with events of import to Spain, to France, to England, and, in fact, to the whole of Europe. On leaving London by the fast coach, we had bowled away over frozen roads. But at Falmouth, the trees were budding in the hedgerows, the sun was shining, the birds were singing; while the soft air stole gently by, and, whispering, sportively saluted us as it passed, like some coy nymph invisible—that idea was Gingham's—the sky was clear, and the haze danced in the sunshine on the distant hills—Gingham again. Towards the afternoon, it generally fell calm. The capacious harbour, smooth as glass, though gently undulating at its entrance, with the swell of the Atlantic that rolled lazily in, bore on its bosom not only the tub-like Princess Wilhelmina and her Yankee mate, but many a noble vessel of ampler tonnage, that showed no water-line in the transparent and silent mirror on which it floated, and seemed to hang suspended between earth and heaven, motionless in the sun-lit and misty ether.
A very odd fish was that Gingham. We enjoyed our walks amazingly. He was going out to Lisbon in a large way, on a mission of mercantile speculation, with full authority from his firm to do anything and everything, whether in the way of contracts for the army, buying up commissariat bills, engaging in monetary transactions, or, above all—for that was his chief object—forming a Peninsular connexion, and opening a new market for British goods. His was, indeed, a voyage of enterprise and of discovery; not, however, his first. His manners were precise. He was a higgler inlittle things, but had large ideas, and lots of gentlemanly feeling. Like many other Cockneys of those days, he was always dressed, and always conscious of being dressed. His hat was white, with the exception of the interior green of the brim, which matched with his spectacles. His gloves were white, his unmentionables were white, and so was his waistcoat. His white cravat was tied before in a sort of pilot-balloon, or white rosicrucian puff. His hair also was pomatum'd, and powdered white. His very pigtail, all but the narrow silk ribbon that held it together, was white. His coat was not white, but a light pepper-and-salt, approaching to white. On the whole, there was so much white in his general appearance, that on board the packet he at once received the name of "the white man." He was generally well-informed, but particularly so in matters of commerce. Our intimacy increased rapidly, and I afterwards, indeed very soon, found the advantage of it. He was naturally of a communicative disposition, while he had much to communicate that was worth knowing. In me he found a willing hearer; for I was glad to receive any kind of useful information. With the prospect before us of a campaign in common, we soon knocked up a sort of friendship.
Gingham could do the handsome thing. Two days before our embarkation he insisted on my dining with him—taking my chop with him, he called it—in return for half a beefsteak, which he had accepted from me at breakfast, his own being delayed. I entered the coffee-room at the appointed hour; but was ushered up stairs into a private room with some degree of ceremony by the waiter, who, I observed, had on gloves, knees, silk stockings, and pumps.
Gingham was there. He had ordered a regular spread. We sat down. The landlord, who had not hitherto made himself visible, emerged on this festive occasion, brought in the soup, bowed, and retired. Gingham said grace. The soup excellent: it was turtle! "Capital turtle!" said I; "had no idea that anything half so good was to be had in all Falmouth." "Always take a small stock when I travel," said Gingham; "got a dozen three-quart cases from Cornhill. Just found room for it in my travelling store-closet." "Travelling store-closet!" thought I: "what a capital fellow to campaign with!"
Soup removed. Re-enter landlord, attended by waiter. John dory, in compliment to me, splendid. Large soles, fried. "I despise the man that boils a sole," said Gingham. It was despicable, I admitted. "My dear sir," said he, "allow me to lay down a principle, which you will find useful as long as you live. Withboiledfish—turbot, for instance, or john dory—always take sauce. You did quite right, in allowing me to help you to sauce just now. But withfriedfish, at least with fried sole—this, for instance—never, never permit sauce or melted butter to be put upon your plate." It was a manœuvre to get me to try the sole, after the john dory. "Fried sole without butter?" said I. "Try it my way," said Gingham, helping me: "take some salt—that's right—now put to that a modicum of cayenne—there—a little more—don't be afraid of putting enough—cayenne, though hot, is not heating, like common pepper—now mix them well together with the point of your knife." I obeyed implicitly. "Now then," said Gingham, with a look of exultation, "TRY THAT." I tried it; and owned that I had never known, till then, the right way of eating fried sole. It was excellent, even after the john dory. Try it, only try it, the first time a fried sole appears on the dinner table, under which are your legs.
A peculiar sound at the side-table now announced that he of the pumps was opening a bottle of champagne. Up to that moment we had managed to put up with Madeira, which was the fashionable dinner wine in those days. N.B.—Good wine to be got at Falmouth. It comes direct from abroad, not viâLondon.
Fish removed. Door opens. Though rejoicing in those days in a very fair appetite, I was rather alarmed, after such a commencement of our humble meal, at the thought of what might be coming. But Gingham had a delicacy of taste, which never overdid things.Enter once more the landlord, bearing an elegant little saddle of Dartmoor mutton, and audibly whispering to the waiter, "Boiled fowls and tongue to follow." I commenced this history with a resolution to conceal nothing; therefore, away with reserve: both mutton, fowls, and tongue were excellent. "A little more Madeira, Mr Y—," said Gingham. The currant jelly had distasted my mouth. I merely put the glass to my lips, and set it down again. Gingham observed, and at once discovered the reason. "Take a mouthful of potato," said Gingham, "the hottest you can find in the dish." My taste was restored. Table cleared again. I hoped the nextentréewould be the cheese and celery.
During the short armistice, Gingham, who delighted to communicate useful knowledge, resumed the subject of the potato. Like all merchants who pay frequent visits to the Peninsula—and Gingham had been there often—he was knowing in wines, and in everything vinous. "Yes," said he, "nothing like a mouthful of hot potato to make you taste wine. There are lots of things besides, but none equal to that. The invention is my own."
"Then," replied I, "I presume you use it at Oporto and Xeres, when you make purchases?"
"Why, not exactly that neither," said he. "The worst of it is, it makes all wine relish alike, bad as well as good. Now, in buying wine, you want something to distinguish the good wine from the bad. And for this purpose—" The landlord and waiter reappeared.
"Sorry, Mr Y—, there is no game," said Gingham. "Fine jack hare in the larder this morning, but rather late in the season. Wouldn't have it. Can you finish off with one or two light things in the French way?"
"My dear sir, my dear sir!"
The table was this time covered with such a display ofpâtisserie, macaroni, and made dishes, as would have formed of itself a very handsomepetit souperfor half-a-dozen people. Gingham wanted me to try everything, and set me an example.
The whole concluded, and the cloth about to be removed, "Mr Gingham," said I, "you said grace before dinner, and I thinkIought to say grace now." The waiter drew up reverently with his back to the sideboard, adjusted his neckcloth, and tightened with his right hand the glove upon his left.
We sat sipping our wine, and nibbling at a very handsome dessert. I wanted to know more about distinguishing good wine from bad.
"I have made large purchases of wine on commission," said Gingham, "for private friends; and that, you know, is a delicate business, and sometimes a thankless one. But I never bought a bad lot yet; and if they found fault with it, I wouldn't let them have it—kept it myself, or sold it for more in the market."
"You were just on the point," said I, "of mentioning a method of distinguishing good wine from bad."
"Well," replied he, "those fellows there, on the other side of the Bay of Biscay, have methods innumerable. After all, taste, judgment, and experience must decide. The Oporto wine-merchants, who know what they are about, use a sort of silver saucer, with its centre bulging upwards. In this saucer they make the wine spin round. My plan is different."
"I should like to know it," said I.
"Well, sir," said he, "mix with water—two-thirds water to one-third wine. Then try it."
"Well?"
"If there is any bad taste in the wine, the mixing brings it out. Did you never notice in London, even if the port or sherry seems passable alone, when you water it the compound is truly horrid, too nauseous to drink?"
"The fact is, though a moderate man, I am not very fond of watering wine."
"The fact is," continued Gingham, "there is very little good wine to be got in London, always excepting such places, for instance, as the Chapter. When you return, after having tasted wine in the wine countries, you will be of my opinion. Much that you get is merely poor wine of the inferior growths, coloured, flavoured, and dressed up with bad brandy for the London market. That sort comes from abroad. And much that youget is not wine at all, but a decoction; a vile decoction, sir; not a drop of wine in its composition. That sort is the London particular." I felt that I was receiving ideas.
"Now, sir," said Gingham, "my cold-water test detects this. If what you get for wine is a decoction, a compound, and nothing but a compound, no wine in it, then the water—about two-thirds to one-third—detects the filthy reality. Add a lump or two of sugar, and you get as beastly a dose of physic as was ever made up in a doctor's shop."
"Just such a dose," I replied, "as I remember getting, now you mention it, as I came down here by the fast coach, at an inn where I asked, by way of a change, for a glass of cold white-wine negus. The slice of lemon was an improvement, having done duty before in a glass of gin punch."
"Shouldn't wonder," said Gingham. "And if what you buy for port or sherry be not absolutely a decoction, but only inferior wine made up, then the water equally acts as a detective. For the dilution has the effect of separating, so to speak, the respective tastes of the component parts—brings them out, sir; and you get each distinct. You get, on the one hand, the taste of the bad brandy, harsh, raw, and empyreumatic: and you get, on the other hand, the taste of the poor, paltry wine, wretched stuff, the truevinho ordinarioflavour, that makes you think at once of some dirty roadside Portugueseposada, swarming with fleas."
"But what if you water really good wine?"
"Why, then," said Gingham, "the flavour, though diluted, is still the flavour of good wine."
"I should like," said I, "to be knowing in wines."
Seeing in me a willing learner, he was about to open. But at this moment the mail drove into the yard of the hotel; and, knowing that Gingham was always ravenous for the London journals on their first arrival, I insisted on our going down into the public room, taking a cup of coffee, and reading the papers. We had talked about wines; but, being neither of us topers, had taken only a moderatequantum suff., though all of the best kind. Gingham, out of compliment to me, wished to prolong the sitting. But, knowing his penchant for a wet newspaper, I was inflexible. We rose from the table.
I felt that I had been handsomely entertained, and that something handsome ought to be said. The pleasing consciousness, however, of having eaten a good dinner, though it excited my finest feelings, did not confer the faculty of expressing them. I began:
"Sir, Mr Gingham; I feel we ought not to leave this room, till I have expressed the emotions—" Then, taking a new departure, "Really, sir, your kind hospitality to a comparative stranger—"
"Well, sir," said Gingham, laughing, "I will tell you how it was. Do you remember your first breakfast in the coffee-room, the day after your arrival by the mail? I was present, and enjoyed it amazingly."
"Oh, sir! oh, sir!" said I, aleetletaken aback; "really I was enormously hungry. In fact I had eaten nothing during my two days' previous journey; and was so sleepy on my arrival, that I got to bed as fast as I could, without thinking of ordering supper. And when I came down next morning, or rather afternoon, why, to tell you the truth, I made it breakfast and dinner in one; and perhaps I did seem a little savage in my first onset on the Falmouth—"
"No,NO, NO!" exclaimed Gingham, interrupting me. "That was not it. No,NO, NO! far from it. My dear sir, you merely disposed of two or three plates of ham and eggs; then a few muffins, with about half-a-dozen basins of tea. After that—let me see—after that, to the best of my recollection—after that, you took nothing, no, nothing, but the mutton chops. No, sir, it was not the quantity. I have often made as hearty a meal myself; and, if we campaign together, I trust we shall often make as hearty a meal together. Nothing like campaigning for an appetite. No, sir; that was not it. It was your manner of taking it."
"My manner of taking it? Really! And pray what did you see in my manner of taking it?"
"Sir," said Gingham, with emotion, "I know this house. I havelong used this house. Everything in this house is good. The accommodation is good. The attendance is good. The wine is good. The dinners are good. The breakfasts are good. Now, sir, I have seen some persons conduct themselves in this house in a manner that filled me with scorn, disgust, and indignation. They arrive by the London mail, sir, as you did, and go to bed. In the morning they come down into the public room, and order breakfast. They breakfast, not like you, my dear sir, very moderately, but enormously. That I could forgive; after a long journey it is excusable. But, sir, what I cannot tolerate is this: They find fault with everything. The tea is bad; the coffee is bad. They take up the silver cream-jug; examine the clouted cream; smell to it—yes, sir; they actually smell to it—and smelling to anything, I need not say, is as great abêtiseas a man can commit at table—ask the waiter what he means by bringing them such stuff as that; and, before they have done, gobble up the whole, and perhaps call for more."
"Call for more? Why, that, I think, is exactly what I did."
"Yes, my dear sir," said Gingham, "you enjoyed it; and you took a pretty good lot of it; but you did not find fault with it. Not so the people I am talking of. The fact is, sir, we Londoners have a great idea of keeping up our dignity. These persons wish to pass for people of importance; and they think importance is announced by finding fault. Item, they are enormously, indecently hungry, and fully intend to make a breakfast for two, but wish to do it surreptitiously. On the arrival of the beefsteak, they turn round the dish, and look at it contemptuously, longing, all the while, to fall to. Yes, sir, they turn round the dish two or three times; then stick their fork into the steak, and turn it over and over; perhaps hold it up, suspended by a single prong, and examine it critically; and end all by pushing away their plate, drawing the dish into its place, and bolting the whole beefsteak, without taking time to masticate. Sir, there was a man in that coffee-room this morning, who grumbled at everything, and ate like a dog. In short, they clear the table of eatables and drinkables; then call the waiter, and reproach him, with a savage look, for bringing them a tough beefsteak; and, in a plaintive voice, like ill-used men, inquire if there is any cold meat-pie."
I owned, from personal observation in the public room, to the general correctness of this sketch.
"Now you, sir," continued Gingham, "enjoyed your breakfast, and made a good one; but found fault with nothing; because, I presume, there was nothing to find fault with. I like to see a man enjoy his meals. And if he does, I like to see him show it. It is one of the tokens by which I judge of character. Your conduct, my dear sir, commanded my respect. Shall I say more? It won my esteem. Then and there my resolution was formed, to invite you, at the first convenient opportunity, to partake of my humble hospitality."
It was too much. I extended my fist. A shaking of hands, of some continuance—cordial on my part, and evidently so on Gingham's, by the pain I felt in my shoulder.
"Well, sir," said Gingham, "I had already learned that you were a passenger for the Peninsula. I was a passenger for the Peninsula; and, as we were to sail together, and probably to campaign together, I resolved to introduce myself. I said, this lad—I beg your pardon, this youth—excuse me, this gentleman, this young gentleman—for I guess you have some ten years the advantage of me in that respect—this gentleman is, like myself, bound for the headquarters of the Peninsular army. I know something of campaigning; he knows nothing. We campaign together."
"Well now," said I, "that is just what I should like amazingly."
Gingham now took the initiative, and put forth his paw. Again we tackled, and, in the true pump-handle style, so dear to Englishmen, expressed mutual cordiality: only that this time, being better prepared, I reversed the electric stream, and brought tears into Gingham's eyes. He sung out, "Oh!" and rubbed his arm.
"The rest," said Gingham, "is easily told. After breakfast you walked out into the court-yard, lit a cigar, and stood on the steps. I lit another, followed, and had the pleasure of making your acquaintance."
I gave audible expression to my profound self-congratulations.
"Allow me, however, to add," said Gingham, "you raised yourself greatly in my esteem by asking the waiter for a red herring. The request evinced a superiority to vulgar prejudices. Your way of putting it, too, was in perfect good keeping: for you did not commit yourself byorderinga red herring; but asked whether you could have one in the coffee-room. Believe me, I was pained, when he stated that red herrings were not permitted; and could but admire your self-denial, in accepting, as a substitute, the mutton-chops."
We adjourned to the public room.
Gingham had entertained me hospitably and handsomely. Yet this was the same Gingham who, when I made him take part of my beefsteak at breakfast, because his own was delayed, proposed that we should desire the waiter to tell the landlady to charge only half a beefsteak to me, and half a beefsteak to him, Gingham. My rejection of this proposal was the immediate occasion of the dinner, at which the reader has just been present.
While we were eviscerating the papers, fresh from London, Gingham leaned over the table, with the air of a man who had something important to communicate. He looked me earnestly in the face.
"Mr Y——," said he, "what do you say—to a red herring—this evening—for supper?"
"Thank you. You must excuse me. Nothing more to-night, but one cup of coffee, and perhaps a cigar. Not even an anchovy toast. I really couldn't."
"Well, then," said Gingham, "to-morrow at breakfast. We will engage a room up stairs, and ask leave of nobody. I have brought down a small barrel from London—always take some when I visit the Peninsula—get them in Lower Thames Street. You will pronounce them excellent."
The offer was too good to be declined.
Next morning we ordered breakfast up stairs. Indeed, a fire had been lit in one of the parlours, by Gingham's directions; and there I found him, with the table laid, and the herrings ready for cooking. Gingham had secured a small Dutch oven; not with the design ofbakingthe herrings—no, no, he knew better than that—but to keep them hot when done. The doing he reserved to himself, on the plea of experience. I was not to assist, except in eating them.
"Do you understand cookery, Mr Y—?" said Gingham.
I ingenuously owned my deficiency in that branch of education, which is no part of the Cambridge curriculum.
"Three months at headquarters," said he, "will make you an excellent cook."
It so happened that the parlour, in which we had located ourselves for the purpose of cooking our herrings, was not that in which we had dined the day before, but one adjoining the larger apartment occupied by the three military gentlemen, with whom we were to cross the Bay of Biscay. A boarding, removable at pleasure, was the only separation between the two rooms. We had not yet become acquainted.
Shortly after I joined Gingham, two of the three entered their parlour; presently the third followed. They rang the bell, and ordered breakfast, all in high good humour, and talking incessantly. We were not listeners, but could not help hearing every word that was said.
"Good blow-out that, yesterday."—"Pity we didn't know of it sooner; might as well have dined with them."—"Turtle, too."—"'Pon your honour?"—"Turtle, and lots of champagne. Caught the waiter swigging off the end of a bottle in the passage."—"Who are they?"—"Don't know; can't make them out. Both going out with us in the packet, though."—"Think I remember seeing the white fellow at Cadiz; almost sure I did; and afterwards again at Madrid. Always wore his hair in that way, well floured and larded, except when itwas too hot, and combed down straight on each side of his ugly face."—"What a nose! Prodigious! A regular proboscis."—"Yes, and all on one side, like the rudder of a barge."—"Let me tell you, a very good thing; for if it was straight, it would be always in his way."—"Always in his way? Why it would trip him up when he walked."—Omnes, "Ha, ha, ha."—"Going with us, do you say? Hope he don't snore. Why, such atrombaas that would keep a whole line-of-battle ship awake."—"Bet you a dollar he's blind of one eye."—"Done." "Done. Book it, major."—"I'll trouble you for a dollar. He does walk a little sideways, but it isn't his eye."—"What is it, then? One-eyed people always walk sideways."—"Why, I'll tell you, now. It's a principle which most people observe through life."—"What principle?"—"Guess."—"Come, tell us, old fellow. None of your nonsense."—"D'ye give it up?"—"Yes, I give it up. Come, tell us."—"Follow your nose."—Omnes, "Ha, ha, ha."—"Capital! capital! That's the best we've had for some time. Follow your nose! Capital! Ha, ha, ha."—"Well, that's it, depend upon it. Other people follow their noses by walking straight forward. That white fellow walks sideways, but still follows his nose."—"No, no, major. Your theory is fallacious. When he walks his nose points backwards. His nose points over his left shoulder, and he walks right shoulders forward." I looked at Gingham, and laughed. Gingham was looking rather grave, and feeling his nose. "No, no. I tell you he walksleftshoulders forward."—"Bet you a dollar."—"Done."—"Done. Book it, major."—"I'll trouble you for a dollar. Saw him this morning, all in a bustle. Took particular notice of his nose."—"Who is the young chap?"—"Oh, he's a regular Johnny Newcome, that's evident."—"Johnny Newcome? Yes; but I wish he wasn't such a chap for john dories. Price in the market is doubled." Gingham laughed and looked at me. "Suppose he's a sub going out to join his regiment."—"No, no. Got such lots of baggage. No regimental officer would be ass enough to take such a heap of trunks. Load for three mules."—"He'll soon knock up. Those long fellows always knock up."—"Shouldn't wonder if he gets the fever next autumn. Then what will his mammy say?"—"Well, but what did they dine about? Thousand pities we did not join them."—"Oh, I suppose it was something of a parting feed; taking leave of Old England, you know: toasting Miss Ann Chovy, Miss Mary Gold, Miss Polly Anthus, and all that kind of thing."—"Hang it all; a good dinner for eight people; thousand pities we missed it."
By this time, our cookery was proceeding in due course. Two splendid bloaters, whole, lay extended where chestnuts are roasted; while two more, split open, hung suspended from a large toasting-fork, held by Gingham, who told me to look and learn, but not to meddle. With a clear bright fire, they soon began to spit. Nor was there wanting another token of our operations. For now the savoury odour of four red herrings, simultaneously under a brisk process of culinary preparation, diffused itself through the apartment, and no doubt through the whole hotel, from the cellar to the attics. The effect on our friends in the next room was instantaneous. Conversation ceased. Then there was a deal of sniffing—then audible whispering and suppressed laughter—then again, a dead silence. Gingham and I exchanged looks. "Wemustbe acquainted," said Gingham, quietly; "and the sooner the better." I saw he had made up his mind, and was prepared for what was about to take place. Then the conversation was heard a little louder, but not distinguishable. There was evidently a council of war. Much laughter. Then, audibly spoken, "Are you fond of herrings?"—"Very; capital for breakfast."—"So am I, very; that is, ofredherrings.Fresh, can't endure them."—"Nor I; they have such a horridSMELL. But a bloater,—often dined off them up the country; didn't we, major?"—"Oh yes, lots of times. But you were moderate. Never could manage above half-a-dozen at a sitting."—"Ring for the waiter."—"No, no; nonsense. Major M—,YOU." After a moment's pause, one of the party left the room; walked, apparently to the end of the passage; then walked back again; opened our door; entered, and politely apologised for the mistake. He was a middle-aged, well-built, gentlemanly-looking man, withbonhomiebeaming in his countenance, and came at once to business. His eye dropped upon the herrings.
"Beg ten thousand pardons. Oh! I see it'shere. We perceived that bloaters were frying somewhere in the house, and thought we should like to try a few. Will you have the kindness to inform me where they can be procured? Didn't know there was a single bloater in all Falmouth."
I, in my simplicity, thought the major was really asking forinformation, and was going to tell him of several shops where I had seen bloaters; but Gingham was too quick for me.
"Here is a barrel-full," said Gingham, pointing to the corner of the room. "Shall be most happy to supply you and your friends with any quantity. Do me the favour to accept of two or three dozen."
"Oh no, sir," said Major M—, drawing up, as if he had been misunderstood. The major was playing a higher game. "Couldn't think of such a thing. Thought you had procured them in the town."
"Indeed, sir," said Gingham, "I don't think the town contains their equals. They are from London direct. Always take a small barrel with me when I visit the Peninsula. Get them in Lower Thames Street."
"Really, a most excellent idea," said Major M—. "I wish I had done the same. Well, I think I never will return to headquarters again without taking a barrel of red herrings." The Major cast a sort of domesticated look about the room, as if he felt quite at home with us.
"Go it, Major!" said an opening in the partition,sotto voce.
"Come, Major," said Gingham, "I see you and the gentlemen your companions are old campaigners. So am I. Suppose we waive ceremony. You see we have got our cooking apparatus all ready. Suppose—do us the favour—excuse the shortness of the invitation—I shall be delighted, and so will my friend here, if you and your party will oblige us with your company to breakfast."
"Yes, yes, Major," said the crevice, as before. "Yes, Major, yes," said another crevice.
"Really, sir," said the Major, with an admirably assumed look of polite embarrassment, and turning a deaf ear to his two prompters behind the scenes—"really, sir, I hardly know how to thank you sufficiently for your obliging invitation. But—shall we not intrude? You meant to breakfast in private. You have, perhaps, business? Matters to arrange, preparatory to the voyage?"
"None in the world, sir," said Gingham, "till after breakfast. Our only business here is to cook our bloaters and eat them, which we could not do in the public room below. Do, pray, oblige us by negotiating this little affair, Major, and persuade your friends to favour us with their company."
The Major, in fact, was negotiating already; and a capital negotiator he made. He might, had he pleased, have walked off, at an earlier stage of the proceedings, with a whole pile of herrings; and even that, at college, we should have thought a capitalcoup. But the Major was not so green.
"Well, sir, since you are so very pressing, I shall have the pleasure of communicating to my comrades your kind invitation; and I presume," he added, bowing politely to me, "I may also have the honour of saying, the invitation of your friend, Captain Y—."
I bowed in return, too much taken by surprise to disclaim the rank so unexpectedly conferred; and a little sore at being saluted "captain," by the same voice which I had heard, just before, proclaiming aloud, that if I was a regimental officer I was an ass. The Major bowed again; backed out of the room, still bowing, and closed the door.
The remaining negotiation was not of long continuance. His two friends were already in the passage, hard by the entrance of our apartment. A dead silence—one irrepressible burst of laughter, instantly hushed—again dead silence—a tap at the door—door opened by Gingham—and enterthe three Peninsulars.
I really could not help admiring the perfectly free and easy, but at the same time quiet, self-possessed, and gentlemanly style of theirentrée, and of their bearing during the first few moments of our interview. Gingham expressed his gratification; was happy to see them. Advancing on their right flank, taking up a central position, and then facing to the left, "Allow me," said the major, "to avail myself of my brief priority of acquaintance, and to introduce—Captain Gabion, of the Royal Engineers," (bowing, on both sides)—"and Mr Commissary Capsicum," (more bowing,)—"half-brothers, I need not say—the family likeness is so striking." Gingham presented Mr Y—. Mr Y—(booby!) presented Gingham.
"Not very striking that family likeness, though," thought I, of course taking seriously what the wag of a major spoke with perfect seriousness. The captain of the Engineers was a pale-looking man, buttoned up to the chin in his regulation frock-coat, rather above the common height, air military and symmetrical. Education had traced on his countenance the lines of thought; and, in short, his whole appearance was a little aristocratic, and what we now calldistingué. His "half-brother," the commissary, on the contrary, who appeared at least twelve years his senior, was a short, pursy, puffy man; with a full, rubicund, oleaginous, and pimpled visage; a large, spongy, purple blob of a nose, its broad lower extremity pendulous, and slightly oscillatory when he moved; a humorous twinkle in his eye, which was constantly on the range in search of fun; two black, bushy tufts for eyebrows; his hair distributed over his ample pericranium in large detachedflocks, each flock growing a way of its own, and no two alike; coat flying open; waistcoat open, all but the two bottom buttons; a bull neck, with very little cravat; and a profuse display of shirt and frill. His shirt and frill, imperfectly closed, revealed his grizzly chest; while his nether extremities were set off to great advantage by a pair of tight blue kerseymere pantaloons with a scarlet stripe; and something—I suppose, as bustles were not then the fashion, it must have been his tailors' clumsiness—imparted a peculiar breadth and bulge to the tail of his coat. He wore splendid gaiters of bright nankeen, with mother-of-pearl buttons. No ceremony when gentlemen meet. We were all quite at home in a moment.