University of Virginia Library

AN OLD SOLDIER.

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 toilette, and made

her appearance with her hair uncommonly frizzed
and powdered, and an additional quantity of
rouge on her face. 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 curtsey,
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 pig tail. 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 whosoever 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 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 to 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 toilette,
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 Jocelyne,
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 Garden.

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

I cannot discover, however, that the general has
ever run any great risk of dying, except from
an apoplexy or an 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. He insists that Bonaparte
was no general; and that he was a great
coward for running away from the army after
the battle of Leipsick, and for not putting himself
in the way of being shot on the field of
Waterloo. 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
Bonaparte's invasion.

He is thoroughly loyal, and attends punctually
on levees when in town. He has treasured
up many sayings of the late king's; 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
in the old school. He is, however, very strict

in religious matters; and a staunch churchman.
He repeats the responses very loud in church,
and is emphatical in praying for the king and
royal family.

The general is amazingly well contented
with the present state of things, and with every
thing about him. He goes about from dinner
to dinner and country seat to country seat, and
wonders how people can be dissatisfied in a
country where a man has nothing to do but to
dine out at other people's expense and to loll on
sofas. He is a thorough disbeliever in all
tales about national ruin and public distresses;
which, he insists upon it, are all got up by the
radicals; and as to the poor, he swears they all
starve out of mere idleness, or to bring the ministry
into disgrace.

His loyalty waxes more fervent with his second
bottle; and the song of God Save the
King puts him into an ecstacy.

His heart brimmed over with patriotism and
good feeding this very day, at dinner, as he cast

his eyes about the ample board loaded with
luxuries.

“They talk of public distress,” said the general
to me, as he smacked a glass of rich Burgundy,
“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!”