Bracebridge Hall: An Old Soldier

An Old Soldier

     I've worn some leather out abroad; let out a heathen soul or
     two; fed this good sword with the black blood of pagan
     Christians; converted a few individuals with it.--But let that
     pass.
     THE ORDINARY.

The Hall was thrown into some little agitation, a few days since, by the
arrival of General Harbottle. He had been expected for several days, and
had been looked for rather impatiently by several of the family. Master
Simon assured me that I would like the general hugely, for he was a
blade of the old school, and an excellent table companion. Lady
Lillycraft, also, appeared to be somewhat fluttered, on the morning of
the general's arrival, for he had been one of her early admirers; and
she recollected him only as a dashing young ensign, just come upon the
town. She actually spent an hour longer at her toilet, and made her
appearance with her hair uncommonly frizzled and powdered, and an
additional quantity of rouge. She was evidently a little surprised and
shocked, therefore, at finding the little dashing ensign transformed
into a corpulent old general, with a double chin, though it was a
perfect picture to witness their salutations; the graciousness of her
profound curtsy, and the air of the old school with which the general
took off his hat, swayed it gently in his hand, and bowed his powdered
head.

All this bustle and anticipation has caused me to study the general with
a little more attention than, perhaps, I should otherwise have done; and
the few days that he has already passed at the Hall have enabled me, I
think, to furnish a tolerable likeness of him to the reader.

He is, as Master Simon observed, a soldier of the old school, with
powdered head, side locks, and pigtail. His face is shaped like the
stern of a Dutch man-of-war, narrow at top, and wide at bottom, with
full rosy cheeks and a double chin; so, that, to use the cant of the
day, his organs of eating may be said to be powerfully developed.

The general, though a veteran, has seen very little active service,
except the taking of Seringapatam, which forms an era in his history. He
wears a large emerald in his bosom, and a diamond on his finger, which
he got on that occasion, and whoever is unlucky enough to notice either,
is sure to involve himself in the whole history of the siege. To judge
from the general's conversation, the taking of Seringapatam is the most
important affair that has occurred for the last century.

On the approach of warlike times on the Continent, he was rapidly
promoted to get him out of the way of younger officers of merit; until,
having been hoisted to the rank of general, he was quietly laid on the
shelf. Since that time his campaigns have been principally confined to
watering-places; where he drinks the waters for a slight touch of the
liver which he got in India; and plays whist with old dowagers, with
whom he has flirted in his younger days. Indeed he talks of all the
fine women of the last half-century, and, according to hints which he
now and then drops, has enjoyed the particular smiles of many of them.

He has seen considerable garrison duty, and can speak of almost every
place famous for good quarters, and where the inhabitants give good
dinners. He is a diner-out of the first-rate currency, when in town;
being invited to one place because he has been seen at another. In the
same way he is invited about the country seats, and can describe half
the seats in the kingdom, from actual observation; nor is any one better
versed in court gossip, and the pedigrees and intermarriages of the
nobility.

As the general is an old bachelor and an old beau, and there are several
ladies at the Hall, especially his quondam flame Lady Jocelyne, he is
put rather upon his gallantry. He commonly passes some time, therefore,
at his toilet, and takes the field at a late hour every morning, with
his hair dressed out and powdered, and a rose in his button-hole. After
he has breakfasted, he walks up and down the terrace in the sunshine,
humming an air, and hemming between every stave, carrying one hand
behind his back, and with the other touching his cane to the ground, and
then raising it up to his shoulder. Should he, in these morning
promenades, meet any of the elder ladies of the family, as he frequently
does Lady Lillycraft, his hat is immediately in his hand, and it is
enough to remind one of those courtly groups of ladies and gentlemen,
in old prints of Windsor Terrace or Kensington Gardens.

He talks frequently about "the service," and is fond of humming the old
song,

    "Why, soldiers, why,
      Should we be melancholy, boys?
    Why, soldiers, why,
      Whose business 'tis to die!"

I cannot discover, however, that the general has ever run any great risk
of dying, excepting from an apoplexy, or indigestion. He criticises all
the battles on the Continent, and discusses the merits of the
commanders, but never fails to bring the conversation ultimately to
Tippoo Saib and Seringapatam. I am told that the general was a perfect
champion at drawing-rooms, parades, and watering-places, during the late
war, and was looked to with hope and confidence by many an old lady,
when labouring under the terror of Buonaparte's invasion.

He is thoroughly loyal, and attends punctually on levees when in town.
He has treasured up many remarkable sayings of the late king,
particularly one which the king made to him on a field-day,
complimenting him on the excellence of his horse. He extols the whole
royal family, but especially the present king, whom he pronounces the
most perfect gentleman and best whist-player in Europe. The general
swears rather more than is the fashion of the present day; but it was
the mode of the old school. He is, however, very strict in religious
matters, and a staunch churchman. He repeats the responses very loudly
in church, and is emphatical in praying for the king and royal family.

At table his loyalty waxes very fervent with his second bottle, and the
song of "God save the King" puts him into a perfect ecstasy. He is
amazingly well contented with the present state of things, and apt to
get a little impatient at any talk about national ruin and agricultural
distress. He says he has travelled about the country as much as any man,
and has met with nothing but prosperity; and to confess the truth, a
great part of his time is spent in visiting from one country-seat to
another, and riding about the parks of his friends. "They talk of public
distress," said the general this day to me, at dinner, as he smacked a
glass of rich burgundy, and cast his eyes about the ample board; "they
talk of public distress, but where do we find it, sir? I see none. I see
no reason any one has to complain. Take my word for it, sir, this talk
about public distress is all humbug!"

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