A chair had been kept vacant for me between my father and his brother. I sat down in haste, and with a tingling color on my cheeks and a rising at my throat, so much had the unusual kindness of my fathers greeting affected me; and then there came over me a sense of my new position. I was no longer a schoolboy at home for his brief holiday: I had returned to the shelter of the roof-tree to become myself one of its supports. I was at last a man, privileged to aid or solace those dear ones who had ministered, as yet without return, to me. That is a very strange crisis in our life when we come home for good. Home seems a different thing; before, one has been but a sort of guest after all, only welcomed and indulged, and little festivities held in honor of the released and happy child. But to come home for good,to have done with school and boyhood,is to be a guest, a child no more. It is to share the everyday life of cares and duties; it is to enter into the confidences of home. Is it not so? I could have buried my face in my hands and wept!
My father, with all his abstraction and all his simplicity, had a knack now and then of penetrating at once to the heart. I verily believe he read all that was passing in mine as easily as if it had been Greek. He stole his arm gently round my waist and whispered, Hush! Then, lifting his voice, he cried aloud, Brother Roland, you must not let Jack have the best of the argument.
Brother Austin, replied the Captain, very formally, Mr. Jack, if I may take the liberty so to call him
You may indeed, cried Uncle Jack.
Sir, said the Captain, bowing, it is a familiarity that does me honor. I was about to say that Mr. Jack has retired from the field.
Far from it, said Squills, dropping an effervescing powder into a chemical mixture which he had been preparing with great attention, composed of sherry and lemon-juicefar from it. Mr. Tibbetswhose organ of combativeness is finely developed, by the bywas saying
That it is a rank sin and shame in the nineteenth century, quoth Uncle Jack, that a man like my friend Captain Caxton
De Caxton, sirMr. Jack.
De Caxton,of the highest military talents, of the most illustrious descent,a hero sprung from heroes,should have served so many years, and with such distinction, in his Majestys service, and should now be only a captain on half-pay. This, I say, comes of the infamous system of purchase, which sets up the highest honors for sale, as they did in the Roman empire
My father pricked up his ears; but Uncle jack pushed on before my father could get ready the forces of his meditated interruption.
A system which a little effort, a little union, can so easily terminate. Yes, sir, and Uncle Jack thumped the table, and two cherries bobbed up and smote Captain de Caxton on the nose, yes, sir, I will undertake to say that I could put the army upon a very different footing. If the poorer and more meritorious gentlemen, like Captain de Caxton, would, as I was just observing, but unite in a grand anti-aristocratic association, each paying a small sum quarterly, we could realize a capital sufficient to out-purchase all these undeserving individuals, and every man of merit should have his fair chance of promotion.
Egad! sir, said Squills, there is something grand in that, eh, Captain?
No, sir, replied the Captain, quite seriously; there is in monarchies but one fountain of honor. It would be an interference with a soldiers first duty,his respect for his sovereign.
On the contrary, said Mr. Squills, it would still be to the sovereigns that one would owe the promotion.
Honor, pursued the Captain, coloring up, and unheeding this witty interruption, is the reward of a soldier. What do I care that a young jackanapes buys his colonelcy over my head? Sir, he does not buy from me my wounds and my services. Sir, he does not buy from me the medal I won at Waterloo. He is a rich man, and I am a poor man; he is calledcolonel, because he paid money for the name. That pleases him; well and good. It would not please me; I had rather remain a captain, and feel my dignity, not in my title, but in the services by which it has been won. A beggarly, rascally association of stock-brokers, for aught I know, buy me a company! I dont want to be uncivil, or I would say damn emMr.sirJack!
A sort of thrill ran through the Captains audience; even Uncle Jack seemed touched, for he stared very hard at the grim veteran, and said nothing. The pause was awkward; Mr. Squills broke it. I should like, quoth he, to see your Waterloo medal,you have it not about you?
Mr. Squills, answered the Captain, it lies next to my heart while I live. It shall be buried in my coffin, and I shall rise with it, at the word of command, on the day of the Grand Review! So saying, the Captain leisurely unbuttoned his coat, and detaching from a piece of striped ribbon as ugly a specimen of the art of the silversmith (begging its pardon) as ever rewarded merit at the expense of taste, placed the medal on the table.
The medal passed round, without a word, from hand to hand.
It is strange, at last said my father, how such trifles can be made of such value,how in one age a man sells his life for what in the next age he would not give a button! A Greek esteemed beyond price a few leaves of olive twisted into a circular shape and set upon his head,a very ridiculous head-gear we should now call it. An American Indian prefers a decoration of human scalps, which, I apprehend, we should all agree (save and except Mr. Squills, who is accustomed to such things) to be a very disgusting addition to ones personal attractions; and my brother values this piece of silver, which may be worth about five shillings, more than Jack does a gold mine, or I do the library of the London Museum. A time will come when people will think that as idle a decoration as leaves and scalps.
Brother, said the Captain, there is nothing strange in the matter. It is as plain as a pike-staff to a man who understands the principles of honor.
Possibly, said my father, mildly. I should like to hear what you have to say upon honor. I am sure it would very much edify us all.
CHAPTER II
Gentlemen, began the Captain, at the distinct appeal thus made to him,Gentlemen, God made the earth, but man made the garden. God made man, but man re-creates himself.
True, by knowledge, said my father.
By industry, said Uncle Jack.
By the physical conditions of his body, said Mr. Squills. He could not have made himself other than he was at first in the woods and wilds if he had fins like a fish, or could only chatter gibberish like a monkey. Hands and a tongue, sir,these are the instruments of progress.
Mr. Squills, said my father, nodding, Anaxagoras said very much the same thing before you, touching the hands.
I cannot help that, answered Mr. Squills; one could not open ones lips, if one were bound to say what nobody else had said. But after all, our superiority is less in our hands than the greatness, of our thumbs.
Albinus, De Sceleto, and our own learned William Lawrence, have made a similar remark, again put in my father. Hang it, sir! exclaimed Squills, what business have you to know everything?