It would be endless to describe the evolutions, the marches, and the countermarches, which I performed before the looking-glass that day. I nearly wore out my scabbard with drawing and sheathing my sword; I absolutely tarnished my epaulette by dangling the bullion of it, and the peak of my cocked hat was very much ruffled and crushed by practising my intended salutes to the ladies. I dined—in all the happiness of self-important solitude—in full uniform, and unshackled by the presence of strangers to interrupt my admiration of it. When did I enjoy such a day? Never. This was the climax of my hopes; I felt that I was bona fide an officer in the army.
After dinner I wrote short letters to my relations and friends, in which every event of the foregoing twenty-four hours was set forth in my very best style of description; and to each letter, signed with my rank in full, was appended a postscript, requesting the answers to be directed to “Ensign W*** A*** B*** of His Majesty's ——th Regiment of the Line, Old Slaughter's Coffee House, London.” As most of the newspapers of that day contained the military promotions of the night before, I ordered at least sixteen; all of which I enclosed, and sent among my friends at home, by post, that night, having first underlined with red ink the words “Ensign W*** A*** B***, vice Thompson, killed in action,” and put a cross in the margin opposite to the passage.
So little was I acquainted with the usages of London, as they regard officers in the army, that I absolutely went to the theatre that night dressed, as I had dined, in full uniform. I had been in the habit of seeing military officers from time to time, who had been quartered in my native town, dressed generally in their regimentals, not only in the street, but at the theatre and at private parties; and I could not suppose that in London, the capital city, and the head-quarters of the army, there was any other custom whatever observed among officers: on the contrary, I considered that, above all other cities, London was the place in which a man was bound to appear in all his glory.
If I was stared at in the Green Park the night before, I was still more so this night; but although I encountered the gaze and the sneers of hundreds, yet nobody dared to insult me directly. The greatest nuisance was, that the box in which I took my seat was crammed almost to suffocation with the fair sex—so much so, that the whole pit stood up to observe us; and so tightly was I squeezed by these ladies, that not having room to display my figure and dress in a sufficiently graceful posture, I was obliged to sit upright, like a gentleman in a vapour-bath. And indeed the simile bears in another way upon the fact; for I felt all the sudorific effects of vapour-bathing, occasioned partly by the perfume of the ladies, partly by the eternal gaze of the spectators, and partly from the tightness of my stock, sash, and sword-belt. I found very soon that my situation was by no means enviable, and I accordingly removed from the box, to better myself by a walk in the saloon; but here I found matters still worse. I was in a moment surrounded by a myriad of damsels, and about as many dandies—the latter of whom became by far the most annoying. I was literally hustled to and fro without being able to keep my legs, while liberties of every description were taken with my dress: one plucked me by the skirts of my coat; another half-drew my sword, while a third (a tall Irish lady) ran off with my cocked hat, to strut about in it, and burlesque my style of walking, &c. All this was done with the best possible humour on their parts, but as to myself,—I must confess, I was most particularly annoyed, though I found it of no use to appear so: therefore I laughed, or seemed to laugh with my persecutors, like Mirabel in the play. However, I found that a quiet retreat was the most advisable manœuvre, and accordingly seized a favourable opportunity of “bolting in double quick time” out of the theatre, amidst crowds of dirty link boys, who drew the attention of the whole world upon me with “Coach, General”—“Noble Commander”—“Royal Highness,” and the rest, until I found myself absolutely wedged in by a throng of greasy ragamuffins, and the wonder of a hundred passers by. “O curse the regimentals! I wish I were in a sack,” thought I, as I ploughed my way out of the crowd, which I had not distanced many yards, when I was assailed by dozens of drunken stragglers with “heads up, sodger,”—“lobster, hoi!” &c. and was at length absolutely jostled into the gutter by three impudent cheesemongers, from Bread Street, Cheapside. The honour of the profession was fired; “D——!” thought I, “is this fit treatment for one of his Majesty's Ensigns?” so seizing the nearest fellow by the collar, I pulled him, much against his will, over to a watchman, who stood within about a dozen yards of us, and gave him in charge to the man of corners, together with his two comrades, who had followed him closely.
“Charge, Chester, charge.”
Three mouths now opened against me, and insisted on “charging” me! I thought of the dog of hell—the triple-headed monster—as they barked. My blood was boiling; I ordered the watchman to take them instantly to the watch-house, on pain of being next morning reported; but what was my indignation—my almost distraction, at finding the fellow altogether deaf to my command, although I was in regimentals! Instead of taking my assaulters to the judge of the night, he absolutely seized me by the collar, and as he forced me along, roared out something like the following:—
“Oh! by Jasus, man, yir not in the barracks now. Who cares about your ordthers? By my sowl! I'll tache you betther manners, though ya have a red coat upon ya; yar not to be salting the dacent people in the open sthreets. Is it becaise I've lost my eye in the sarvice, that you want to get the blind side o' me?”
“You infernal Cyclops!” returned I, “you cannot see plainly with the one that is left to you.”
Remonstrance was useless. I put, not only my powers of speech in the fullest action, but also my powers of muscle: all in vain—four pair of arms pulling at one coat, are too much for any body. I was absolutely trotted off to the watch-house. Here I expected to obtain ample satisfaction for the injury I had sustained, and with this feeling addressed the “Commanding officer”—a fellow with a huge red-cabbage face, a pot of porter before him, a pipe in his hand, and a rabbit-skin cap on his greasy head. I told my story in very few words; but dwelt with “becoming warmth” upon the manner in which justice was administered by the men of lanterns and rattles, and concluded with a severe philippic against the watch department in general. I demanded that the watchmen, as well as the three men who had caused the confusion, should be locked up forthwith. Whether it was my natural powers of speech, or my all powerful energy of voice and manner, which procured for me this hearing, I cannot tell—but I have to regret the privilege; for my address, so far from being relished by the constable, inclined him, I think, to lend a more favourable ear to my adversaries; and his bias inclined still more towards them, when they appealed to him as “the representative of magistracy.” In short, they had it all their own way, and old Dogberry, in accordance with the feelings excited in him, by abuse on the one side, and flattery on the other, declared against me.
“This here thing,” said he, “is a conspiracy against these three respectable men, and that 'ere vatchman; but it 'ont do. You see, you comes and you 'tacks these here people a going to their perspective homes, as honest citizens should. What are you, gemmen?” (To the cheesemongers.)