"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, sir—Mr Jack."
"De Caxton—of the highest military talents, of the most illustrious descent—a hero sprung from heroes—should have served twenty-three years in his Majesty's service, and should be only a captain on half-pay. This, I say, comes of the infamous system of purchase, which sets up the highest honours 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 realise a capital sufficient to outpurchase 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 honour. It would be an interference with a soldier's 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."
"Honour," pursued the Captain, colouring 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 called—colonel, 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 of my three-and-twenty years. A beggarly, rascally association of stockbrokers, for aught I know, buy me a company! I don't want to be uncivil, or I would say, Damn 'em, Mr—sir—Jack!"
A sort of thrill ran through the Captain's audience—even Uncle Jack looked touched, as I thought, 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 not it about you?"