CHAPTER VII

THE RIFLES AT WATERLOO

Nothing in Kincaid's "adventures" is finer than his account of

Waterloo. He tells, it is true, only that which took place about

himself, and, as the grey and strangling battle-smoke lay for hours

on the ridge where Kincaid stood, he could see only a very tiny patch

of the great landscape of the battle. Waterloo, for him, might be

described as a ring of imprisoning smoke, over which bellowed and

echoed constantly the roar of a hundred guns, and out of which, at

irregular intervals, broke lines of French infantry--sometimes as a

spray of skirmishers, sometimes as massed battalions. Sometimes, by

way of change, a column of horsemen--helmeted dragoons, cuirassiers in

glittering breastplates, red lancers of the Guard--broke through the

fog, rode at the stubborn line of the Rifles, and reeled off into the

fog again, pursued by darting musketry volleys. To endure and to repel

incessant attacks, hour after hour, was the business of the dwindling

companies of the Rifles. The third battalion, to which Kincaid

belonged, formed part of Adams's brigade. It stood a hundred yards

to the rear of La Haye Sainte, a little to the left of Wellington's

centre. The famous sandpit was in the immediate front of the battalion,

and was held by three companies of Rifles. On this point in the British

line the utmost strength of the French attack--horse, foot, and

artillery--was expended, and no men that day saw fiercer fighting than

did Kincaid and his fellow-riflemen. Kincaid, therefore, has this right

to tell the story of Waterloo: he fought through the whole of that

fateful day in the very heart of the great struggle:--

"When I awoke this morning at daylight, I found myself drenched with

rain. I had slept so long and so soundly that I had, at first, but

a very confused notion of my situation; but having a bright idea

that my horse had been my companion when I went to sleep, I was

rather startled at finding that I was now alone, nor could I rub my

eyes clear enough to procure a sight of him, which was vexatious

enough; for, independent of his value as a horse, his services were

indispensable, and an adjutant might as well think of going into

action without his arms as without such a supporter. But whatever my

feelings might have been towards him, it was evident that he had none

for me, from having drawn his sword and marched off. The chances of

finding him again, amid ten thousand others, were about equal to the

odds against the needle in a bundle of hay; but for once the single

chance was gained, as, after a diligent search of an hour, he was

discovered between two artillery horses, about half a mile from where

he broke loose.

"The weather cleared up as the morning advanced; and, though

everything remained quiet at the moment, we were confident that

the day would not pass off without an engagement, and, therefore,

proceeded to put our arms in order, as, also, to get ourselves dried

and made as comfortable as circumstances would permit.

"We made a fire against the wall of Sir Andrew Barnard's cottage,

and boiled a huge camp-kettle full of tea, mixed up with a suitable

quantity of milk and sugar, for breakfast; and, as it stood on

the edge of the high-road, where all the big-wigs of the army

had occasion to pass, in the early part of the morning, I believe

almost every one of them, from the Duke downwards, claimed a

cupful. About ten o'clock an unusual bustle was observable among

the staff-officers, and we soon after received an order to stand to

our arms. The troops who had been stationed in our front during the

night were then moved off to the right, and our division took up its

fighting position.

"Our battalion stood on what was considered the left centre of the

position. We had our right resting on the Brussels road, about a

hundred yards in the rear of the farmhouse of La Haye Sainte, and our

left extending behind a broken hedge, which ran along the ridge to

the left. Immediately in our front, and divided from La Haye Sainte

only by the great road, stood a small knoll, with a sand-hole in its

farthest side, which we occupied, as an advanced post, with three

companies. The remainder of the division was formed in two lines;

the first, consisting chiefly of light troops, behind the hedge, in

continuation from the left of our battalion reserve, and the second,

about a hundred yards in its rear. The guns were placed in the

intervals between the brigades, two pieces were in the roadway on our

right, and a rocket brigade in the centre.

"The road had been cut through the rising ground, and was about

twenty or thirty feet deep where our right rested, and which, in a

manner, separated us from all the troops beyond. The division, I

believe, under General Alten occupied the ground next to us, on the

right.

"Shortly after we had taken up our ground, some columns, from the

enemy's left, were seen in motion towards Hougoumont, and were soon

warmly engaged with the right of our army. A cannon ball, too, came

from the Lord knows where, for it was not fired at us and took the

head off our right-hand man. That part of their position, in our

own immediate front, next claimed our undivided attention. It had

hitherto been looking suspiciously innocent, with scarcely a human

being upon it; but innumerable black specks were now seen taking post

at regular distances in its front, and recognising them as so many

pieces of artillery, I knew, from experience, although nothing else

was yet visible, that they were unerring symptoms of our not being

destined to be idle spectators.

"From the moment we took possession of the knoll we had busied

ourselves in collecting branches of trees and other things, for

the purpose of making an abatis to block up the road between that

and the farmhouse, and soon completed one, which we thought looked

sufficiently formidable to keep out the whole of the French cavalry;

but it was put to the proof sooner than we expected, by a troop of

our own light dragoons, who, having occasion to gallop through,

astonished us not a little by clearing away every stick of it. We

had just time to replace the scattered branches, when the whole of

the enemy's artillery opened, and their countless columns began to

advance under cover of it."

The attack on Hougoumont, it will be remembered, was intended by

Napoleon to be a mere feint, serving to draw off Wellington's attention

from the real attack, the onfall of D'Erlon's huge columns on the

left centre of the British position, which Napoleon hoped to pierce

and destroy. Napoleon's tactics broke down first at Hougoumont, for

the feigned attack grew persistent and obstinate, and drew into its

madness more than twelve thousand good infantry, and after all failed.

D'Erlon's great infantry attack was defeated by the stubbornness of

Picton's slender lines, and by the sudden and overwhelming onfall

of the Life Guards, Inniskillings, and Greys. Kincaid tells how he

watched the French columns taking position for their attack:--

"The scene at that moment was grand and imposing, and we had a few

minutes to spare for observation. The column destined as 'our'

particular 'friends,' first attracted our notice, and seemed to

consist of about ten thousand infantry. A smaller body of infantry

and one of cavalry moved on their right; and, on their left, another

huge column of infantry, and a formidable body of cuirassiers, while

beyond them it seemed one moving mass.

"We saw Bonaparte himself take post on the side of the road

immediately in our front, surrounded by a numerous staff; and each

regiment, as they passed him, rent the air with shouts of 'Vive

l'Empereur,' nor did they cease after they had passed, but, backed

by the thunder of their artillery, and carrying with them the

rub-a-dub of drums and the tantarara of trumpets, in addition to

their increasing shouts, it looked at first as if they had some

hopes of scaring us off the ground, for it was a singular contrast

to the stern silence reigning on our side, where nothing as yet

but the voices of our great guns told that we had mouths to open

when we chose to use them. Our rifles were, however, in a very few

seconds required to play their parts, and opened such a fire on the

advancing skirmishers as quickly brought them to a standstill; but

their columns advanced steadily through them, although our incessant

tiralade was telling in their centre with fearful exactness, and our

post was quickly turned in both flanks, which compelled us to fall

back and join our comrades behind the hedge, though not before some

of our officers and theirs had been engaged in personal combat.

"When the heads of their columns showed over the knoll which we had

just quitted, they received such a fire from our first line that they

wavered and hung behind it a little; but, cheered and encouraged by

the gallantry of their officers, who were dancing and flourishing

their swords in front, they at last boldly advanced to the opposite

side of our hedge and began to deploy. Our first line, in the

meantime, was getting so thinned that Picton found it necessary to

bring up his second, but fell in the act of doing it. The command of

the division at that critical moment devolved upon Sir James Kempt,

who was galloping along the line, animating the men to steadiness. He

called to me by name, where I happened to be standing on the right

of our battalion, and desired 'that I would never quit that spot.'

I told him that 'he might depend upon it;' and in another instant I

found myself in a fair way of keeping my promise more religiously

than I intended; for, glancing my eye to the right, I saw the next

field covered with the cuirassiers, some of whom were making directly

for the gap in the hedge where I was standing.

"I had not hitherto drawn my sword, as it was generally to be had

at a moment's warning; but from its having been exposed to the last

night's rain, it had now got rusted in the scabbard and refused to

come forth! I was in a precious scrape. Mounted on my strong Flanders

mare, and with my good old sword in my hand, I would have braved

all the chances without a moment's hesitation; but I confess that I

felt considerable doubts as to the propriety of standing there to be

sacrificed without the means of making a scramble for it. My mind,

however, was happily relieved from such an embarrassing consideration

before my decision was required; for the next moment the cuirassiers

were charged by our household brigade, and the infantry in our front,

giving way at the same time under our terrific shower of musketry,

the flying cuirassiers tumbled in among the routed infantry, followed

by the Life Guards, who were cutting away in all directions. Hundreds

of the infantry threw themselves down and pretended to be dead, while

the cavalry galloped over them, and then got up and ran away. I

never saw such a scene in all my life.

"Lord Wellington had given orders that the troops were on no account

to leave the position to follow up any temporary advantage; so that

we now resumed our post, as we stood at the commencement of the

battle, and with three companies again advanced on the knoll. I was

told it was very ridiculous at that moment to see the number of

vacant spots that were left nearly along the whole of the line, where

a great part of the dark-dressed foreign troops had stood, intermixed

with the British, when the action began.

"Our division got considerably reduced in numbers during the last

attack; but Lord Wellington's fostering hand sent Sir John Lambert to

our support with the sixth division, and we now stood prepared for

another and a more desperate struggle. Our battalion had already lost

three officers killed and six or seven wounded; among the latter were

Sir Andrew Barnard and Colonel Cameron.

"Some one asking me what had become of my horse's ear was the

first intimation I had of his being wounded; and I now found that,

independent of one ear having been shaved close to his head (I

suppose by a cannon-shot), a musket-ball had grazed across his

forehead and another gone through one of his legs, but he did not

seem much the worse for either of them.

"Between two and three o'clock we were tolerably quiet, except from

a thundering cannonade; and the enemy had by that time got the range

of our position so accurately that every shot brought a ticket for

somebody's head. An occasional gun beyond the plain, far to our left,

marked the approach of the Prussians; but their progress was too

slow to afford a hope of their arriving in time to take any share in

the battle. On our right the roar of cannon and musketry had been

incessant from the time of its commencement; but the higher ground

near us prevented our seeing anything of what was going on."

The anguish of the fight, as far as the Rifles were concerned, came

when La Haye Sainte was carried by the French. This gave them cover

at half-musket range, whence they could waste the British front with

their fire. Their elation at having carried the farmhouse, it may be

added, gave them new fire and audacity. They believed they had broken

the British centre, that the day was won, that the stubborn British

line was about to crumble and flee! And French soldiers are never so

dangerous as when the rapture of real or imagined victory is kindling

their blood. The pressure on the sadly-thinned lines of the Rifles was

cruel, but it was borne with cool and stubborn valour:--

"Between three and four o'clock the storm gathered again in our

front. Our three companies on the knoll were soon involved in a

furious fire. The Germans occupying La Haye Sainte expended all their

ammunition and fled from the post. The French took possession of it;

and as it flanked our knoll we were obliged to abandon it also and

fall back again behind the hedge.

"The loss of La Haye Sainte was of the most serious consequence as

it afforded the enemy an establishment within our position. They

immediately brought up two guns on our side of it, and began serving

out some grape to us; but they were so very near that we destroyed

their artillerymen before they could give us a second round.

"The silencing of these guns was succeeded by a very extraordinary

scene on the same spot. A strong regiment of Hanoverians advanced

in line to charge the enemy out of La Haye Sainte; but they were

themselves charged by a brigade of cuirassiers, and, excepting one

officer, on a little black horse, who went off to the rear like a

shot out of a shovel, I do believe that every man of them was put to

death in about five seconds. A brigade of British light dragoons

advanced to their relief, and a few on each side began exchanging

thrusts; but it seemed likely to be a drawn battle between them,

without much harm being done, when our men brought it to a crisis

sooner than either side anticipated, for they previously had their

rifles eagerly pointed at the cuirassiers, with a view of saving the

perishing Hanoverians; but the fear of killing their friends withheld

them, until the others were utterly overwhelmed, when they instantly

opened a terrific fire on the whole concern, sending both sides to

flight; so that, on the small space of ground, within a hundred yards

of us, where five thousand men had been fighting the instant before,

there was not now a living soul to be seen.

"It made me mad to see the cuirassiers in their retreat stooping and

stabbing at our wounded men as they lay on the ground. How I wished

that I had been blessed with Omnipotent power for a moment, that I

might have blighted them!

"The same field continued to be a wild one the whole of the

afternoon. It was a sort of duelling-post between the two armies,

every half-hour showing a meeting of some kind upon it; but they

never exceeded a short scramble, for men's lives were held very cheap

there.

"For the two or three succeeding hours there was no variety with us,

but one continued blaze of musketry. The smoke hung so thick about,

that, although not more than eighty yards asunder, we could only

distinguish each other by the flashes of the pieces.

"I shall never forget the scene which the field of battle presented

about seven in the evening. I felt weary and worn out, less from

fatigue than anxiety. Our division, which had stood upwards of

five thousand men at the commencement of the battle, had gradually

dwindled down into a solitary line of skirmishers. The 27th Regiment

were lying literally dead, in square, a few yards behind us. My horse

had received another shot through the leg, and one through the flap

of the saddle, which lodged in his body, sending him a step beyond

the pension-list. The smoke still hung so thick about us that we

could see nothing. I walked a little way to each flank, to endeavour

to get a glimpse of what was going on; but nothing met my eye except

the mangled remains of men and horses, and I was obliged to return to

my post as wise as I went.

"I had never yet heard of a battle in which everybody was killed; but

this seemed likely to be an exception, as all were going by turns.

We got excessively impatient under the tame similitude of the latter

part of the process, and burned with desire to have a last thrust at

our respective _vis-a-vis_; for, however desperate our affairs were,

we had still the satisfaction of seeing that theirs were worse. Sir

John Lambert continued to stand as our support at the head of three

good old regiments, one dead (the 27th) and two living ones, and we

took the liberty of soliciting him to aid our views; but the Duke's

orders on that head were so very particular that the gallant general

had no choice.

"Presently a cheer, which we knew to be British, commenced far to the

right, and made every one prick up his ears--it was Lord Wellington's

long-wished-for orders to advance; it gradually approached, growing

louder as it drew near--we took it up by instinct, charged through

the hedge down upon the old knoll, sending our adversaries flying

at the point of the bayonet. Lord Wellington galloped up to us at

the instant, and our men began to cheer him; but he called out, 'No

cheering, my lads, but forward, and complete your victory!'

"This movement had carried us clear of the smoke; and, to people

who had been for so many hours enveloped in darkness, in the midst

of destruction, and naturally anxious about the result of the day,

the scene which now met the eye conveyed a feeling of more exquisite

gratification than can be conceived. It was a fine summer's evening,

just before sunset. The French were flying in one confused mass.

British lines were seen in close pursuit, and in admirable order,

as far as the eye could reach to the right, while the plain to the

left was filled with Prussians. The enemy made one last attempt at a

stand on the rising ground to our right of La Belle Alliance; but a

charge from General Adams's brigade again threw them into a state of

confusion, which was now inextricable, and their ruin was complete.

Artillery, baggage, and everything belonging to them fell into our

hands. After pursuing them until dark, we halted about two miles

beyond the field of battle, leaving the Prussians to follow up the

victory.

"This was the last, the greatest, and the most uncomfortable heap of

glory that I ever had a hand in, and may the deuce take me if I think

that everybody waited there to see the end of it, otherwise it never

could have been so troublesome to those who did. We were, take us all

in all, a very bad army. Our foreign auxiliaries, who constituted

more than half of our numerical strength, with some exceptions, were

little better than a raw militia--a body without a soul, or like an

inflated pillow, that gives to the touch and resumes its shape again

when the pressure ceases--not to mention the many who went clear out

of the field, and were only seen while plundering our baggage in

their retreat.

"Our heavy cavalry made some brilliant charges in the early part of

the day; but they never knew when to stop, their ardour in following

their advantages carrying them headlong on, until many of them 'burnt

their fingers,' and got dispersed or destroyed. Of that gallant

corps, the Royal Artillery, it is enough to say that they maintained

their former reputation--the first in the world--and it was a serious

loss to us in the latter part of the day to be deprived of this more

powerful co-operation, from the causes already mentioned.

"If Lord Wellington had been at the head of his old Peninsula army,

I am confident that he would have swept his opponents off the face

of the earth immediately after their first attack; but, with such a

heterogeneous mixture under his command, he was obliged to submit to

a longer day.

"The field of battle next morning presented a frightful scene

of carnage; it seemed as if the world had tumbled to pieces and

three-fourths of everything destroyed in the wreck. The ground

running parallel to the front of where we had stood was so thickly

strewed with fallen men and horses, that it was difficult to step

clear of their bodies; many of the former still alive, and imploring

assistance, which it was not in our power to bestow. The usual

salutation on meeting an acquaintance of another regiment after an

action was to ask who had been hit? but on this occasion it was,

'Who's alive?' Meeting one next morning, a very little fellow, I

asked what had happened to them yesterday? 'I'll be hanged,' says

he, 'if I know anything at all about the matter, for I was all

day trodden in the mud and galloped over by every scoundrel who

had a horse; and, in short, that I only owe my existence to my

insignificance.'

"Two of our men, on the morning of the 19th, lost their lives by a

very melancholy accident. They were cutting up a captured ammunition

waggon for firewood, when one of their swords, striking against a

nail, sent a spark among the powder. When I looked in the direction

of the explosion, I saw the two poor fellows about twenty or thirty

feet up in the air. On falling to the ground, though lying on their

backs and bellies, some extraordinary effort of nature, caused by

the agony of the moment, made them spring from that position five or

six times, to the height of eight or ten feet, just as a fish does

when thrown on the ground after being newly caught. It was so unlike

a scene in real life that it was impossible to witness it without

forgetting, for a moment, the horror of their situation.

"I ran to the spot along with others, and found that every stitch of

clothes had been burnt off, and they were black as ink all over. They

were still alive, and told us their names, otherwise we could not

have recognised them; and, singular enough, they were able to walk

off the ground with a little support, but died shortly after.

"About twelve o'clock on the day after the battle we commenced our

march for Paris. I shall, therefore, leave my readers at Waterloo, in

the hope that, among the many stories of romance to which that and

the other celebrated fields gave birth, the foregoing unsophisticated

one of an eye-witness may not have been found altogether

uninteresting."

II

ONE OF CRAUFURD'S VETERANS

II.--ONE OF CRAUFURD'S VETERANS

"Rifleman" Harris, an innocent-looking sheep-boy, his face brown with

the winds and rains of the Dorsetshire Downs, drifted, so to speak,

into a soldier's life pretty much as a floating leaf, blown from

some rustic valley and fallen into a rustic stream, might drift into

a great historic river, furrowed by a thousand keels, and be swept

away to unknown seas. His autobiography is curious alike in what it

omits and in what it tells. It is so barren of one class of personal

details that we are left in ignorance of when the writer was born.

He leaves himself in his own volume without a Christian name. We are

not told why he enlisted, nor where. Unlike most people undertaking

an autobiography, Rifleman Harris appears to have had no interest

whatever in himself, and he was incapable of imagining that anybody

else would be interested. But he was keenly concerned in all the

personal incidents of a soldier's life, and he describes them with a

simplicity and a directness, an economy of adjectives, and a felicity

of substantives, which makes his "Recollections" one of the freshest

and most interesting soldier autobiographies ever written.

He had some good luck as a soldier. He belonged to a famous regiment;

he served under some famous commanders; he heard the first shots fired

by British muskets in the Peninsula. But he had also much ill-luck. He

tramped, perspired, and probably swore, under South American suns in

that most ignominious of all expeditions, under the most contemptible

leader that ever wore a cocked hat--Whitelocke's fiasco at Buenos

Ayres. He next served in Portugal, and took part in the fighting at

Roliça and Vimiero. Under Sir John Moore he shared in the heroism and

the horrors of the dreadful retreat to Corunna, or rather to Vigo. That

Harris survived snow and rain and hunger, the inexpressible toils of

the long marches, the biting cold of the black unsheltered nights, as

well as the sabres of the pursuing French horsemen and the bullets of

the French skirmishers, is little less than marvellous. But he did, and

landed at Spithead, ragged, bare-footed, unshaven, with rusty musket,

hollow cheeks, and eyes that had almost gone sightless with mere

fatigue--about as stiff and hardy and unconquerable a bit of soldierly

flesh and blood as the world of that day could produce.

A British private who had known the shame of Whitelocke's South

American expedition and the distress of Moore's immortal retreat might

well think he had exhausted all the evil possibilities of a soldier's

life. But the unfortunate Harris had one more evil experience. He found

a place in the unhappy Walcheren expedition, and crept out of it with

wrecked constitution and ague-poisoned blood. He served after this in a

veteran battalion; tried hard for service in the Peninsula, but, to his

unspeakable disgust, was disqualified by a doctor with an unsympathetic

temper and an inelastic conscience, and while still only thirty-two was

discharged on a pension of sixpence a day. "For the first time," he

says, "since I had been a shepherd-lad on the Blandford downs I found

myself in plain clothes and with liberty to go and come where I liked."

But Harris never received a sixpence of his hard-earned pension, bought

with blood and sweat. Before the first payment became due Napoleon

had escaped from Elba; the veterans were called back to the ranks.

Harris, wasted with fever and shaken with ague--legacies from Walcheren

swamps--was unable to join, and forfeited his pension. He had to spend

the rest of his days making shoes and writing his "Recollections of a

Rifleman." In view of this record, perhaps, the most striking thing in

Harris' "Recollections" is their unconquerable good humour. The writer

never grumbles. No faintest accent of discontent ever steals into his

voice. His cheerfulness is invincible. He is proud of his officers;

in the best of temper with his comrades; takes mud, rain, toil, empty

stomach, and too heavy knapsack, a couch on the wet grass and under

weeping skies, the pain of wounds, and the peril of death, all as part

of the day's work, about which nobody has any right to grumble. A

soldier's life, he plainly holds, is the pleasantest in the world. No

one is better qualified than Rifleman Harris to tell to a modern and

ease-loving generation how the men of the Peninsula marched, suffered,

fought, and conquered.

CHAPTER I

THE KING'S SHILLING

Harris's "Recollections" begin with the simplicity and directness of

one of De Foe's tales:--

"My father was a shepherd, and I was a sheep-boy from my earliest

youth. Indeed, as soon almost as I could run I began helping my

father to look after the sheep on the downs of Blandford, in

Dorsetshire, where I was born. Whilst I continued to tend the flocks

and herds under my charge, and occasionally in the long winter nights

to learn the art of making shoes, I grew a hardy little chap, and was

one fine day, in the year 1802, drawn as a soldier for the Army of

Reserve. Thus, without troubling myself much about the change which

was to take place in the hitherto quiet routine of my days, I was

drafted into the 66th Regiment of Foot, bade good-bye to my shepherd

companions, and was obliged to leave my father without an assistant

to collect his flocks, just as he was beginning more than ever to

require one; nay, indeed, I may say to want tending and looking after

himself, for old age and infirmity were coming on him, his hair was

growing as white as the sleet of our downs, and his countenance

becoming as furrowed as the ploughed fields around. However, as I had

no choice in the matter, it was quite as well that I did not grieve

over my fate.

"My father tried hard to buy me off, and would have persuaded the

sergeant of the 66th that I was of no use as a soldier from having

maimed my right hand (by breaking the forefinger when a child).

The sergeant, however, said I was just the sort of little chap he

wanted, and off he went, carrying me (amongst a batch of recruits he

had collected) away with him."

Harris's earliest experiences as a soldier naturally made the deepest

impressions upon him. He found himself in a new world, with new

comrades, and under strange new laws--laws with sanctions, swift,

inevitable, and terrible--behind them. Here is one of his earlier

stories:--

"Whilst lying at Winchester (where we remained three months), young

as I was in the profession, I was picked out amongst others to

perform a piece of duty that for many years afterwards remained

deeply impressed upon my mind, and gave me the first impression of

the stern duties of a soldier's life. A private of the 70th Regiment

had deserted from that corps, and afterwards enlisted into several

other regiments, indeed I was told at the time (though I cannot

answer for so great a number) that sixteen different times he had

received the bounty and then stolen off. Being, however, caught at

last, he was brought to trial at Portsmouth, and sentenced by general

court-martial to be shot.

"The 66th received a route to Portsmouth to be present on the

occasion, and as the execution would be a good hint to us young 'uns,

there were four lads picked out of our corps to assist in this piece

of duty, myself being one of the number chosen.

"Besides these men, four soldiers from three other regiments were

ordered on the firing-party, making sixteen in all. The place of

execution was Portsdown Hill, near Hilsea Barracks, and the different

regiments assembled must have composed a force of about fifteen

thousand men, having been assembled from the Isle of Wight, from

Chichester, Gosport, and other places. The sight was very imposing,

and appeared to make a deep impression on all there. As for myself,

I felt that I would have given a good round sum (had I possessed it)

to have been in any situation rather than the one in which I now

found myself; and when I looked into the faces of my companions, I

saw, by the pallor and anxiety depicted in each countenance, the

reflection of my own feelings. When all was ready, we were moved to

the front, and the culprit was brought out. He made a short speech

to the parade, acknowledging the justice of his sentence, and that

drinking and evil company had brought the punishment upon him.

"He behaved himself firmly and well, and did not seem at all to

flinch. After being blindfolded, he was desired to kneel down behind

a coffin which was placed on the ground, and the drum-major of

the Hilsea depôt, giving us an expressive glance, we immediately

commenced loading.

"This was done in the deepest silence, and the next moment we were

primed and ready. There was then a dreadful pause for a few moments,

and the drum-major, again looking towards us, gave the signal before

agreed upon (a flourish of his cane) and we levelled and fired. We

had been previously strictly enjoined to be steady and take good aim,

and the poor fellow, pierced by several balls, fell heavily upon his

back; and as he lay, with his arms pinioned to his sides, I observed

that his hands waved for a few moments, like the fins of a fish, when

in the agonies of death. The drum-major also observed the movement,

and, making another signal, four of our party immediately stepped up

to the prostrate body, and placing the muzzles of their pieces to the

head, fired, and put him out of his misery. The different regiments

then fell back by companies, and the word being given to march past

in slow time, when each company came in line with the body the word

was given to 'mark time,' and then 'eyes left,' in order that we

might all observe the terrible example. We then moved onwards, and

marched from the ground to our different quarters.

"The 66th stopped that night about three miles from Portsdown Hill,

and in the morning we returned to Winchester. The officer in command

that day, I remember, was General Whitelocke, who was afterwards

brought to court-martial himself. This was the first time of our

seeing that officer. The next meeting was at Buenos Ayres, and during

the confusion of that day one of us received an order from the fiery

Craufurd to shoot the traitor dead if he could see him in the battle,

many others of the Rifles receiving the same order from that fine and

chivalrous officer.

"The unfortunate issue of the Buenos Ayres affair is matter of

history, and I have nothing to say about it, but I well remember

the impression it made upon us all at the time, and that Sir John

Moore was present at Whitelocke's court-martial; General Craufurd,

and I think General Auchmuty, Captain Eleder of the Rifles, Captain

Dickson, and one of our privates being witnesses.

"So enraged was Craufurd against him, that I heard say he strove

hard to have him shot. Whitelocke's father I also heard was at

his son's trial, and cried like an infant during the proceedings.

Whitelocke's sword was broken over his head, I was told, and for

months afterwards, when our men took their glass, they used to give

as a toast, 'success to "grey hairs," but bad luck to "White-locks."'

Indeed, that toast was drunk in all the public-houses around for many

a day."

The 66th was shortly afterwards sent to Ireland; and Harris, who had

shown himself smart and intelligent, was put into the light company

of his regiment. While in Dublin he saw some companies of the famous

95th Rifles marching. They bore the signature of Sir John Moore's

soldierly hand on them; and Harris records that "I fell so in love

with their smart, dashing, and devil-may-care appearance that nothing

would serve me till I was a rifleman myself," and meeting a recruiting

party of the regiment, he volunteered into the second battalion. He

gives a strangely interesting account of the recruits which formed the

raw material out of which Wellington evolved the magnificent soldiers

of the Peninsula--men with whom, to use Wellington's own words, he

"could go anywhere, and do anything." Rougher, wilder material--half

savage and half child-like--than these recruits can hardly be imagined.

Certainly no such strange human material finds its way into British

barracks to-day:--

"This recruiting-party were all Irishmen, and had been sent over from

England to collect (amongst others) men from the Irish Militia, and

were just about to return to England. I think they were as reckless

and devil-may-care a set of men as ever I beheld, either before or

since.

"Being joined by a sergeant of the 92nd Highlanders, and a Highland

piper of the same regiment (also a pair of real rollicking blades),

I thought we should all have gone mad together. We started on our

journey, one beautiful morning, in tip-top spirits, from the Royal

Oak, at Cashel; the whole lot of us (early as it was) being three

sheets in the wind. When we paraded before the door of the Royal Oak,

the landlord and landlady of the inn, who were quite as lively, came

reeling forth, with two decanters of whisky, which they thrust into

the fists of the sergeants, making them a present of decanters and

all, to carry along with them, and refresh themselves on the march.

The piper then struck up, the sergeants flourished their decanters,

and the whole rout commenced a terrific yell. We then all began to

dance, and danced through the town, every now and then stopping for

another pull at the whisky decanters. Thus we kept it up till we had

danced, drank, shouted, and piped thirteen Irish miles, from Cashel

to Clonmel. Such a day, I think, I never spent, as I enjoyed with

these fellows; and on arriving at Clonmel, we were as 'glorious' as

any soldiers in all Christendom need wish to be.

"In about ten days after this, our sergeants had collected together

a good batch of recruits, and we started for England. Some few days

before we embarked (as if we had not been bothered enough already

with the unruly Paddies), we were nearly pestered to death with a

detachment of old Irishwomen, who came from different parts (on

hearing of their sons having enlisted), in order to endeavour to

get them away from us. Following us down to the water's edge, they

hung to their offspring and, dragging them away, sent forth such

dismal howls and moans that it was quite distracting to hear them.

The lieutenant commanding the party, ordered me (being the only

Englishman present) to endeavour to keep them back. It was, however,

as much as I could do to preserve myself being torn to pieces by

them, and I was glad to escape out of their hands.

"At length we got our lads safe on board, and set sail for England.

No sooner were we out at sea, however, than our troubles began afresh

with these hot-headed Paddies; for, having now nothing else to do,

they got up a dreadful quarrel amongst themselves, and a religious

row immediately took place, the Catholics reviling the Protestants

to such a degree that a general fight ensued. The poor Protestants

(being few in number) soon got the worst of it, and as fast as we

made matters up among them, they broke out afresh and began the riot

again.

"From Bath we marched to Andover, and when we came upon Salisbury

Plain, our Irish friends got up a fresh row. At first they appeared

uncommonly pleased with the scene, and, dispersing over the soft

carpet of the Downs, commenced a series of Irish jigs till at length

as one of the Catholics was setting to his partner (a Protestant), he

gave a whoop and a leap into the air, and at the same time (as if he

couldn't bear the partnership of a heretic any longer), dealt him a

tremendous blow with his shillelagh, and stretched him upon the sod.

This was quite enough, and the bludgeons immediately began playing

away at a tremendous rate.

"The poor Protestants were again quickly disposed of, and then arose

a cry of 'Huzza for the Wicklow boys,' 'Huzza for the Connaught

boys,' 'Huzza for Munster,' and 'Huzza for Ulster!' They then

recommenced the fight as if they were determined to make an end

of their soldiering altogether upon Salisbury Plains. We had, I

remember, four officers with us, and they did their best to pacify

their pugnacious recruits. One thrust himself amongst them, but was

instantly knocked down for his pains, so that he was glad enough to

escape. After they had completely tired themselves, they began to

slacken in their endeavours, and apparently to feel the effect of the

blows they dealt each other, and at length suffering themselves to be

pacified, the officers got them into Andover.

"Scarcely had we been a couple of hours there, and obtained some

refreshment, ere these incorrigible blackguards again commenced

quarrelling, and collecting together in the streets, created so

serious a disturbance that the officers, getting together a body

of constables, seized some of the most violent and succeeded in

thrusting them into the town jail; upon this their companions again

collected, and endeavoured to break open the prison gates.

"Baffled in this attempt, they rushed through the streets knocking

down everybody they met. The drums now commenced beating up for a

volunteer corps of the town, which, quickly mustering, drew up in

the street before the jail, and immediately were ordered to load

with ball. This somewhat pacified the rioters, and our officers

persuading them to listen to a promise of pardon for the past, peace

was at length restored amongst them."

Harris's first experience of active service was in that obscure and

more than half-forgotten expedition to Copenhagen in 1807. Harris found

that coming under fire was, on the whole, an exhilarating experience.

Certainly the manner in which he bore himself when first he heard the

whistle of hostile bullets showed he had the makings of a good soldier.

"The expedition consisted of about 30,000 men, and at the moment of

our getting on shore, the whole force set up one simultaneous and

tremendous cheer, a sound I cannot describe, it seemed so inspiring.

This, indeed, was the first time of my hearing the style in which our

men give tongue when they get near the enemy, though afterwards my

ears became pretty well accustomed to such sounds.

"As soon as we got on shore the Rifles were pushed forward as the

advance, in chain order, through some thick woods of fir, and when

we had cleared these woods and approached Copenhagen, sentries were

posted on the roads and openings leading towards the town, in order

to intercept all comers and prevent all supplies. Such posts we

occupied for about three days and nights, whilst the town was being

fired on by our shipping. I rather think this was the first time of

Congreve rockets being brought into play, and as they rushed through

the air in the dark, they appeared like so many fiery serpents,

creating, I should think, terrible dismay amongst the besieged.

"As the main army came up, we advanced and got as near under the

walls of the place as we could without being endangered by the fire

from our own shipping. We now received orders ourselves to commence

firing, and the rattling of the guns I shall not easily forget.

"I felt so much exhilarated that I could hardly keep back, and was

checked by the commander of the company (Captain Leech), who called

to me by name to keep my place. About this time, my front-rank man,

a tall fellow named Jack Johnson, showed a disposition as though

the firing had on him an effect the reverse of what it had on many

others of the company, for he seemed inclined to hang back, and once

or twice turned round in my face. I was a rear-rank man, and porting

my piece, in the excitement of the moment I swore that if he did not

keep his ground, I would shoot him dead on the spot, so that he found

it would be quite as dangerous for him to return as to go on.

"I feel sorry to record the want of courage of this man, but I do

so with the less pain as it gives me the opportunity of saying

that during many years' arduous service, it is the only instance I

remember of a British soldier endeavouring to hold back when his

comrades were going forward. Indeed, Johnson was never again held in

estimation amongst the Rifle corps; for the story got wind that I had

threatened to shoot him for cowardice in the field, and Lieutenant

Cox mentioned to the colonel that he had overheard my doing so; and

such was the contempt the man was held in by the Rifles, that he was

soon afterwards removed from amongst us to a veteran battalion."

CHAPTER II

IN THE PENINSULA

Harris's Peninsular experiences began in 1808. The Rifles formed part

of a modest force of less than 10,000 men about to sail for a raid on

the Spanish colonies in South America. But Napoleon had just effected

the highly ingenious but quite felonious transfer of the Spanish crown

to the head of his brother Joseph. As a result all Spain rose in revolt

against French arms; and what yesterday had been for England an enemy

to be plundered, became to-day an ally to be helped. The expedition

which was intended to destroy Spanish colonies was, therefore,

despatched to assist in the deliverance of Spain itself.

An even larger share than usual of the national gift for blundering

at the beginning of a campaign was shown at the start of the great

operations in the Peninsula. The force despatched was utterly

inadequate. It was 20,000 men against 120,000. But even this little

force was broken into fragments and despatched on totally unrelated

adventures. Spencer was sent with 10,000 men to Cadiz; another body

of 10,000 was despatched to the Tagus. By a happy chance--perhaps it

would be fair to say by a happy flash of insight--Wellesley was given

command of this latter expedition; but Sir Harry Burrard was promptly

despatched to supersede Wellesley, and Sir Hew Dalrymple to supersede

Sir Harry Burrard! Under this delightful arrangement the astonished

British army had three distinct commanders within the space of

twenty-four hours.

Harris describes the long and loitering pause at Cork, where the ships

lay for six weeks, without disembarking the unfortunate soldiers. At

last, on July 12, 1808, the expedition sailed. The landing-place chosen

was the mouth of the Mondego. The Rifles, Harris records with delight,

"were the first out of the ships. We were, indeed, always in the front

in an advance and in the rear in a retreat." The heats of a Spanish

summer lay on the plains and the hills; the roads were mere ribbons of

sand, the watercourses were parched; and Harris's first experience of

marching under service conditions, and on sandy Spanish roads, was very

trying. He says:--

"The weight I myself toiled under was tremendous, and I often wonder

at the strength I possessed at this period, which enabled me to

endure it; for, indeed, I am convinced that many of our infantry sank

and died under the weight of their knapsacks alone. For my own part,

being a handicraft, I marched under a weight sufficient to impede

the free motions of a donkey! for besides my well-filled kit, there

was the greatcoat rolled on its top, my blanket and camp kettle, my

haversack, stuffed full of leather for repairing the men's shoes,

together with a hammer and other tools (the lap-stone I took the

liberty of flinging to the devil), ship-biscuit and beef for three

days. I also carried my canteen filled with water, my hatchet and

rifle, and eighty rounds of ball cartridge in my pouch; this last,

except the beef and biscuit, being the best thing I owned, and which

I always gave the enemy the benefit of when opportunity offered.

"Altogether the quantity of things I had on my shoulders was enough

and more than enough for my wants, sufficient, indeed, to sink a

little fellow of five feet seven inches into the earth. Nay, so

awkwardly was the load our men bore in those days placed upon their

backs, that the free motion of the body was impeded, the head held

down from the pile at the back of the neck, and the soldier half

beaten before he came to the scratch."

A pleasanter description is given of the march on the following day. He

says:--

"The next day we again advanced, and being in a state of the utmost

anxiety to come up with the French, neither the heat of the burning

sun, long miles, nor heavy knapsacks were able to diminish our

ardour. Indeed, I often look back with wonder at the light-hearted

style, the jollity, and reckless indifference with which men who were

destined in so short a time to fall, hurried onwards to the field of

strife; seemingly without a thought of anything but the sheer love of

meeting the foe and the excitement of the battle."

Harris's "Recollections" have absolutely no chronology, or chronology

only of the most distracted and planless character. A clear thread of

narrative is to be obtained only by the process of re-arranging all his

incidents.

The opening skirmish--the first splutter of British muskets in the long

Peninsular campaigns--took place on August 15, and naturally the 95th,

which formed the British outposts, were the actors in the combat. They

erred by over-vehemence. They fell on so eagerly, and pursued so fast

and so far, that they presently found themselves charging the entire

French army, and were drawn off with some loss. Harris's description

is brief:--

"It was on the 15th of August when we first came up with the French,

and their skirmishers immediately commenced operations by raining a

shower of balls upon us as we advanced, which we returned without

delay.

"The first man that was hit was Lieutenant Bunbury; he fell pierced

through the head with a musket-ball, and died almost immediately. I

thought I never heard such a tremendous noise as the firing made on

this occasion, and the men on both sides of me, I could occasionally

observe, were falling fast. Being over-matched, we retired to a

rising ground, or hillock, in our rear, and formed there all round

its summit, standing three deep, the front rank kneeling. In this

position we remained all night, expecting the whole host upon us

every moment. At daybreak, however, we received instructions to fall

back as quickly as possible upon the main body. Having done so, we

now lay down for a few hours' rest, and then again advanced to feel

for the enemy."

Wellington described the affair as "unpleasant" from the general's

point of view; but apparently the Rifles found it very enjoyable.

On August 17 Roliça was fought. The British again erred by

over-eagerness, the 29th in particular suffering heavy losses owing to

the fact that the regiment went straight at the enemy's front instead

of turning its flank. The battle, however, was on the British side

a bit of characteristic, dogged, and straight-forward fighting. The

French flank was turned, their front driven in, and they were compelled

to fall back from one position to another till they finally abandoned

the fight. Here is Harris's account, collated from the different parts

of his volume:--

"On the 17th, being still in front, we again came up with the French,

and I remember observing the pleasing effect afforded by the sun's

rays glancing upon their arms as they formed in order of battle to

receive us. Moving on in extended order under whatever cover the

nature of the ground afforded, together with some companies of the

60th, we began a sharp fire upon them, and thus commenced the battle

of Roliça.

"I do not pretend to give a description of this or any other battle

I have been present at. All I can do is to tell the things which

happened immediately around me, and that, I think, is as much as a

private soldier can be expected to do.

"Soon afterwards the firing commenced, and we had advanced pretty

close upon the enemy. Taking advantage of whatever cover I could find

I threw myself down behind a small bank, where I lay so secure, that

although the Frenchmen's bullets fell pretty thickly around, I was

enabled to knock several over without being dislodged, in fact, I

fired away every round I had in my pouch whilst lying on this spot.

At length after a sharp contest we forced them to give ground, and

following them up, drove them from their position in the heights, and

hung upon their skirts till they made another stand, and then the

game began again.

"The 29th Regiment received so terrible a fire that I saw the right

wing almost annihilated, and the colonel (I think his name was

Lennox[2]) lay sprawling amongst the rest. We had ourselves caught it

pretty handsomely, for there was no cover for us, and we were rather

too near. The living skirmishers were lying beside heaps of their own

dead, but still we had held our own till the battalion regiments came

up. 'Fire and retire'[3] is a very good sound, but the Rifles were

not over fond of such notes. We never performed that manœuvre except

when it was made pretty plain to us that it was quite necessary; the

29th, however, had got their faring here at this time, and the shock

of that fire seemed to stagger the whole line and make them recoil.

At the moment a little confusion appeared in the ranks, I thought.

Lord Hill was near at hand and saw it, and I observed him come

galloping up. He put himself at the head of the regiment and restored

them to order in a moment. Pouring a regular and sharp fire upon the

enemy he galled them in return; and, remaining with the 29th till he

brought them to the charge, quickly sent the foe to the right-about.

It seemed to me that few men could have conducted the business with

more coolness and quietude of manner under such a storm of balls as

he was exposed to. Indeed I have never forgotten him from that day.

"At the time I was remarking these matters (loading and firing as

I lay), another circumstance divided my attention for a while, and

made me forget even the gallant conduct of General Hill. A man near

me uttered a scream of agony, and looking from the 29th, who were

on my right, to the left, whence the screech had come, I saw one of

our sergeants, named Fraser, sitting in a doubled-up position, and

swaying backwards and forwards as though he had got a terrible pain

in his bowels. He continued to make so much complaint that I arose

and went to him, for he was rather a crony of mine.

"'Oh, Harris,' said he, as I took him in my arms, 'I shall die! I

shall die! The agony is so great that I cannot bear it.'

"It was, indeed, dreadful to look upon him; the froth came from his

mouth, and the perspiration poured from his face. Thank Heaven! he

was soon out of pain, and, laying him down, I returned to my place.

Poor fellow! he suffered more for the short time that he was dying

than any man I think I ever saw in the same circumstances. I had the

curiosity to return and look at him after the battle. A musket-ball,

I found, had taken him sideways and gone through both groins.

"Within about half-an-hour after this I left Sergeant Fraser, and,

indeed, for the time had as completely forgotten him as if he had

died a hundred years back. The sight of so much bloodshed around will

not suffer the mind to dwell long on any particular casualty, even

though it happen to one's dearest friend. There was no time either

to think, for all was action with us Rifles just at this moment, and

the barrel of my piece was so hot from continual firing that I could

hardly bear to touch it, and was obliged to grasp the stock beneath

the iron, as I continued to blaze away.

"James Ponton was another crony of mine (a gallant fellow!); he had

pushed himself in front of me, and was checked by one of our officers

for his rashness. 'Keep back, you Ponton!' the lieutenant said to

him more than once. But Ponton was not to be restrained by anything

but a bullet when in action. This time he got one which, striking

him in the thigh, I suppose cut an artery, for he died quickly. The

Frenchmen's balls were flying very wickedly at that moment; and I

crept up to Ponton, and took shelter by lying behind, and making a

rest for my rifle of his dead body. It strikes me that I revenged his

death by the assistance of his carcass. At any rate I tried my best

to hit his enemies hard.

"There were two small buildings in our front, and the French, having

managed to get into them, annoyed us much from that quarter. A small

rise in the ground close before these houses also favoured them; and

our men were being handled very severely in consequence. They became

angry, and wouldn't stand it any longer. One of the skirmishers

jumping up, rushed forward, crying, 'Over boys!--over! over!' when

instantly the whole line responded to the cry, 'Over! over! over!'

They ran along the grass like wildfire, and dashed at the rise,

fixing their sword-bayonets as they ran. The French light bobs

could not stand the sight, but turned about and fled, and, getting

possession of their ground, we were soon inside the buildings.

"After the battle was over I stepped across to the other house I have

mentioned, in order to see what was going on there, for the one I

remained in was now pretty well filled with the wounded (both French

and English) who had managed to get there for a little shelter. Two

or three surgeons also had arrived at this house, and were busily

engaged in giving their assistance to the wounded, now also here

lying as thickly as in the building which I had left; but what struck

me most forcibly was, that from the circumstance of some wine-butts

having been left in the apartment, and their having in the engagement

been perforated by bullets, and otherwise broken, the red wine had

escaped most plentifully, and ran down upon the earthen floor where

the wounded were lying, so that many of them were soaked in the wine

with which their blood was mingled.

"The Rifles fought well this day, and we lost many men. They

seemed in high spirits, and delighted at having driven the enemy

before them. Joseph Cochan was by my side loading and firing very

industriously about this period of the day. Thirsting with heat and

action he lifted his canteen to his mouth, 'Here's to you, old boy,'

he said, as he took a pull at its contents. As he did so a bullet

went through the canteen, and, perforating his brain, killed him in

a moment. Another man fell close to him almost immediately, struck

by a ball in the thigh. Indeed, we caught it severely just here, and

the old iron was also playing its part amongst our poor fellows very

merrily. When the roll was called after the battle, the females who

missed their husbands came along the front of the line to inquire of

the survivors whether they knew anything about them. Amongst other

names I heard that of Cochan called in a female voice, without being

replied to.

"The name struck me, and I observed the poor woman who had called it,

as she stood sobbing before us, and apparently afraid to make further

inquiries about her husband. No man had answered to his name, or had

any account to give of his fate. I myself had observed him fall, as

related before, whilst drinking from his canteen; but as I looked at

the poor sobbing creature before me, I felt unable to tell her of his

death. At length Captain Leech observed her, and called out to the

company--

"'Does any man here know what has happened to Cochan? If so, let him

speak out at once.'

"Upon this order I immediately related what I had seen, and told

the manner of his death. After a while Mrs. Cochan appeared anxious

to seek the spot where her husband fell, and, in the hope of still

finding him alive, asked me to accompany her over the field. She

trusted, notwithstanding what I had told her, to find him yet alive.

"'Do you think you could find it?' said Captain Leech, upon being

referred to.

"I told him I was sure I could, as I had remarked many objects whilst

looking for cover during the skirmishing.

"'Go then,' said the captain, 'and show the poor woman the spot, as

she seems so desirous of finding the body.'

"I accordingly took my way over the ground we had fought upon, she

following and sobbing after me, and, quickly reaching the spot where

her husband's body lay, pointed it out to her.

"She now soon discovered all her hopes were in vain; she embraced a

stiffened corpse, and after rising and contemplating his disfigured

face for some minutes, with hands clasped and tears streaming down

her cheeks, she took a prayer-book from her pocket, and, kneeling

down, repeated the service for the dead over the body. When she

had finished she appeared a good deal comforted, and I took the

opportunity of beckoning to a pioneer I saw near with some other

men, and together we dug a hole and quickly buried the body. Mrs.

Cochan then returned with me to the company to which her husband

had been attached, and laid herself down upon the heath near us.

She lay amongst some other females who were in the same distressing

circumstances with herself, with the sky for her canopy and a turf

for her pillow, for we had no tents with us. Poor woman! I pitied her

much; but there was no remedy. If she had been a duchess she must

have fared the same. She was a handsome woman, I remember, and the

circumstance of my having seen her husband fall, and accompanied her

to find his body, begot a sort of intimacy between us. What little

attention I could pay her during the hardships of the march I did,

and I also offered on the first opportunity to marry her. 'She had,

however, received too great a shock on the occasion of her husband's

death ever to think of another soldier,' she said; she therefore

thanked me for my good feeling towards her, but declined my offer,

and left us soon afterwards for England.

"After I had left the house I have alluded to in the account of the

battle of Roliça, I walked a few paces onwards, when I saw some of

the Rifles lying about and resting. I laid myself down amongst them,

for I felt fatigued. A great many of the French skirmishers were

lying dead just about this spot. I recollect that they had long white

frock-coats on, with the eagle in front of their caps. This was one

of the places from which they had greatly annoyed us; and, to judge

from the appearance of the dead and wounded strewed around, we had

returned the compliment pretty handsomely. I lay upon my back, and,

resting upon my knapsack, examined the enemy in the distance. Whilst

I lay watching them, I observed a dead man directly opposite to me

whose singular appearance had not at first caught my eye. He was

lying on his side amongst some burnt-up bushes, and whether the heat

of the firing here had set these bushes on fire, or from whatever

cause they had been ignited, I cannot take upon me to say; but

certain it is (for several of my companions saw it as well as myself,

and cracked many a joke upon the poor fellow's appearance), that this

man, whom we guessed to have been French, was as completely roasted

as if he had been spitted before a good kitchen-fire. He was burnt

quite brown, every stitch of clothes was singed off, and he was drawn

all up like a dried frog. I called the attention of one or two men

near me, and we examined him, turning him about with our rifles with

no little curiosity. I remember now, with some surprise, that the

miserable fate of this poor fellow called forth from us very little

sympathy, but seemed only to be a subject of mirth."

Vimiero followed hard on Roliça, being fought only four days

afterwards. In this battle the French attacked, and their onfall was

marked by high daring and tactical skill. But the British out-fought as

their general out-manœuvred the French, and Junot was only saved from

complete destruction by the circumstance that Sir Harry Burrard, at the

very moment of victory, displaced Wellesley in command, and ordered the

pursuit to cease. The Rifles were in the skirmishing line, and were

naturally driven back when the French advanced in mass. The steadfast

British line, however, took very badly the retreat of the skirmishers,

as Harris, in amusing fashion, records. Harris's account is interesting

as a picture of what may be called the domestic details of the

fighting, the preparations for it, the rough jesting of the fighting

line, the fashion in which individual soldiers fought and died. There

is, indeed, an almost Homeric touch in Harris's picture of individual

combats. Here is his story of how the Rifles fought at Vimiero:--

"It was on the 21st of August that we commenced fighting the battle

of Vimiero.

"The French came down upon us in a column, and the Riflemen

immediately commenced a sharp fire upon them from whatever cover

they could get a shelter behind, whilst our cannon played upon them

from our rear. I saw regular lanes torn through their ranks as they

advanced, which were immediately closed up again as they marched

steadily on. Whenever we saw a round shot thus go through the mass we

raised a shout of delight.

"One of our corporals, named Murphy, was the first man in the Rifles

who was hit that morning, and I remember more particularly remarking

the circumstance from his apparently having a presentiment of his

fate before the battle began. He was usually an active fellow, and up

to this time had shown himself a good and brave soldier, but on this

morning he seemed unequal to his duty. General Fane and Major Travers

were standing together on an early part of this day. The general had

a spy-glass in his hand, and for some time looked anxiously at the

enemy. Suddenly he gave the word to fall in, and immediately all

was bustle amongst us. The Honourable Captain Pakenham spoke very

sharply to Murphy, who appeared quite dejected and out of spirits,

I observed. He had a presentiment of death, which is by no means an

uncommon circumstance, and I have observed it once or twice since

this battle.

"Others beside myself noticed Murphy on this morning, and as we

had reason to know he was not ordinarily deficient in courage, the

circumstance was talked of after the battle was over. He was the

first man shot that day.

"Just before the battle commenced in earnest, and whilst the officers

were busily engaged with their companies, shouting the word of

command, and arranging matters of moment, Captain Leech ordered a

section of our men to move off, at double quick, and take possession

of a windmill, which was on our left. I was amongst this section,

and set off full cry towards the mill, when Captain Leech espied

and roared out to me by name to return--'Hello there! you Harris!'

he called, 'fall out of that section directly. We want you here, my

man.' I, therefore, wheeled out of the rank, and returned to him.

'You fall in amongst the men here, Harris,' he said, 'I shall not

send you to that post. The cannon will play upon the mill in a few

moments like hail; and what shall we do,' he continued laughing,

'without our head shoemaker to repair our shoes?'

"It is long since these transactions took place. But I remember the

words of the captain as if they had been uttered but yesterday;

for that which was spoken in former years in the field has made

a singular impression on my mind. As I looked about me, whilst

standing enranked, and just before the commencement of the battle,

I thought it the most imposing sight the world could produce. Our

lines glittering with bright arms; the stern features of the men,

as they stood with their eyes fixed unalterably upon the enemy; the

proud colours of England floating over the heads of the different

battalions; and the dark cannon on the rising ground, and all in

readiness to commence the awful work of death, with a noise that

would deafen the whole multitude. Altogether, the sight had a

singular and terrible effect upon the feelings of a youth, who, a few

short months before, had been a solitary shepherd upon the Downs of

Dorsetshire, and had never contemplated any other sort of life than

the peaceful occupation of watching the innocent sheep as they fed

upon the grassy turf.

"The first cannon shot I saw fired, I remember, was a miss. The

artilleryman made a sad bungle, and the ball went wide of the mark.

We were all looking anxiously to see the effect of this shot; and

another of the gunners (a red-haired man) rushed at the fellow who

had fired, and in the excitement of the moment, knocked him head over

heels with his fists. 'D-- you for a fool,' he said; 'what sort of

a shot do you call that? Let me take the gun.' He accordingly fired

the next shot himself, as soon as the gun was loaded, and so truly

did he point it at the French column on the hillside, that we saw the

fatal effect of the destructive missile by the lane it made and the

confusion it caused.

"Our Riflemen (who at the moment were amongst the guns) upon seeing

this, set up a tremendous shout of delight, and the battle commencing

immediately, we were all soon hard at work.

"I myself was very soon so hotly engaged, loading and firing away,

enveloped in the smoke I created, and the cloud which hung about me

from the continued fire of my comrades, that I could see nothing for

a few minutes but the red flash of my own piece amongst the white

vapour clinging to my very clothes. This has often seemed to me the

greatest drawback upon our present system of fighting; for whilst in

such state, on a calm day, until some friendly breeze of wind clears

the space around, a soldier knows no more of his position and what is

about to happen in his front, or what has happened (even amongst his

own companions) than the very dead lying around.

"Such is my remembrance of the commencement of the battle of Vimiero.

The battle began on a fine bright day, and the sun played on the

arms of the enemy's battalions, as they came on, as if they had been

tipped with gold. The battle soon became general; the smoke thickened

around, and often I was obliged to stop firing and dash it aside from

my face, and try in vain to get sight of what was going on, whilst

groans and shouts and a noise of cannon and musketry appeared almost

to shake the very ground. It seemed hell upon earth, I thought.

"A man named John Low stood before me at this moment, and he turned

round during a pause in our exertions, and addressed me: 'Harris, you

humbug,' he said, 'you have plenty of money about you, I know, for

you are always staying about and picking up what you can find on the

field. But I think this will be your last field-day, old boy. A good

many of us will catch it, I suspect, to-day,' 'You are right, Low,' I

said, 'I have got nine guineas in my pack, and if I get shot to-day,

and you yourself escape, it's quite at your service. In the meantime,

however, if you see any symptoms of my wishing to flinch in this

business, I hope you will shoot me with your own hand.'

"Low as well as myself survived this battle, and after it was over,

whilst we sat down with our comrades and rested, amongst other

matters talked over, Low told them of our conversation during the

heat of the day, and the money I had collected, and the Rifles from

that time had a great respect for me. It is, indeed, singular how

a man loses or gains caste with his comrades from his behaviour,

and how closely he is observed in the field. The officers, too, are

commented upon and closely observed. The men are very proud of those

who are brave in the field, and kind and considerate to the soldiers

under them. An act of kindness done by an officer has often during

the battle been the cause of his life being saved. Nay, whatever

folks may say upon the matter, I know from experience that in our

army the men like best to be officered by gentlemen, men whose

education has rendered them more kind in manners than your coarse

officer, sprung from obscure origin, and whose style is brutal and

overbearing.

"During the battle I remarked the gallant style in which the 50th,

Major Napier's regiment, came to the charge. They dashed upon

the enemy like a torrent breaking bounds, and the French, unable

even to bear the sight of them, turned and fled. Methinks at this

moment I can hear the cheer of the British soldiers in the charge,

and the clatter of the Frenchmen's accoutrements, as they turned

in an instant, and went off as hard as they could run for it. I

remember, too, our feelings towards the enemy on that occasion was

the north side of friendly, for they had been firing upon us Rifles

very sharply, greatly outnumbering our skirmishers, and appearing

inclined to drive us off the face of the earth. Their Lights, and

Grenadiers, I, for the first time, particularly remarked on that day.

The Grenadiers (the 70th, I think), our men seemed to know well.

They were all fine-looking young men, wearing red shoulder-knots and

tremendous-looking moustaches. As they came swarming upon us, they

rained a perfect shower of balls, which we returned quite as sharply.

Whenever one of them was knocked over our men called out, 'There goes

another of Boney's Invincibles.'

"In the main body immediately in our rear, were the second battalion

52nd, the 50th, the second battalion 43rd, and a German corps, whose

number I do not remember, besides several other regiments. The whole

line seemed annoyed and angered at seeing the Rifles outnumbered by

the Invincibles, and as we fell back, 'firing and retiring,' galling

them handsomely as we did so, the men cried out (as it were with one

voice) to charge. 'D--n them!' they roared, 'charge! charge!' General

Fane, however, restrained their impetuosity. He desired them to stand

fast and keep their ground.

"'Don't be too eager, men,' he said, as coolly as if we were on

drill-parade in old England; 'I don't want you to advance just yet.

Well done, 95th!' he called out, as he galloped up and down the

line; 'well done, 43rd, 52nd, and well done all. I'll not forget,

if I live, to report your conduct to-day. They shall hear of it in

England, my lads!'

"A man named Brotherwood, of the 95th, at this moment rushed up

to the general, and presented him with a green feather, which he

had torn out of the cap of a French light-infantry soldier he had

killed. 'God bless you, general!' he said; 'wear this for the sake

of the 95th.' I saw the general take the feather and stick it in his

cocked hat. The next minute he gave the word to charge, and down came

the whole line, through a tremendous fire of cannon and musketry--and

dreadful was the slaughter as they rushed onwards. As they came up

with us, we sprang to our feet, gave one hearty cheer, and charged

along with them, treading over our own dead and wounded, who lay in

the front. The 50th were next us as we went, and I recollect, as I

said, the firmness of that regiment in the charge. They appeared like

a wall of iron. The enemy turned and fled, the cavalry dashing upon

them as they went off.

"It was just at the close of the battle of Vimiero; the dreadful

turmoil and noise of the engagement had hardly subsided, and I began

to look into the faces of the men close around me, to see who had

escaped the dangers of the hour. Four or five days back I had done

the same thing at Roliça. One feels, indeed, a sort of curiosity

to know, after such a scene, who is remaining alive amongst the

companions endeared by good conduct, or disliked for bad character,

during the hardships of the campaign. I saw that the ranks of the

Riflemen looked very thin; it seemed to me one-half had gone down. We

had four companies of the 95th, and were commanded that day by Major

Travers. He was a tight hand, but a soldier likes that better than a

slovenly officer; and indeed, he was deservedly beloved by all who

knew him.

"I had observed him more than once during this day, spurring here

and there, keeping the men well up, and apparently in the highest

spirits. He could not have enjoyed himself more, I am sure, if he

had been at a horse-race, or following a good pack of hounds. The

battle was just over; a flag of truce had come over from the French;

General Kellerman, I think, brought it. We threw ourselves down where

we were standing when the fire ceased. A Frenchman lay close beside

me; he was dying, and called to me for water, which I understood

him to require more from his manner than his words (he pointed to

his mouth). I need not say that I got up and gave it him. Whilst

I did so, down galloped the major in front, just in the same good

spirits he had been all day; plunging along, avoiding, with some

little difficulty, the dead and dying which were strewed about. He

was never a very good-looking man, being hard-featured and thin--a

hatchet-faced man, as we used to say. But he was a regular good

'un--a real English soldier, and that's better than if he had been

the handsomest ladies' man in the army.

"The major just now disclosed what none of us, I believe, knew

before, namely, that his head was bald as a coot's, and that he

covered the nakedness of his nob, up to the present time, by a

flowing Caxon, which, during the heat of the action, had somehow been

dislodged, and was lost; yet was the major riding hither and thither,

digging the spurs into his horse's flanks, and just as busy as before

the firing had ceased. 'A guinea,' he kept crying as he rode, 'to

any man who will find my wig!' The men, I remember, notwithstanding

the sight of the wounded and dead around them, burst into shouts of

laughter at him as he went; and, 'a guinea to any man who will find

my wig,' was the saying amongst us long after that affair."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 2: It was Colonel Lake.]

[Footnote 3: "Fire and retire"--one of the bugle sounds to the

skirmishers when hard pressed.]

CHAPTER III

WHEN THE FIGHT IS OVER

Harris sees with characteristic clearness of vision, and describes,

with almost appalling _vraisemblance_, the grim scenes of the

battle-field after the fiery tide of battle has ebbed from it. He

says:--

"After the day's work was over, whilst strolling about the field,

just upon the spot where this charge had taken place, I remarked a

soldier of the 43rd and a French grenadier both dead, and lying close

together. They had apparently killed each other at the same moment,

for both weapons remained in the bodies of the slain. Brotherwood was

lying next me during a part of this day; he was a Leicestershire man,

and was killed afterwards by a cannon ball at Vittoria. I remember

his death more particularly from the circumstance of that very ball

killing three of the company at the same moment, viz., Lieutenant

Hopwood, Patrick Mahone, and himself. Brotherwood was amongst the

skirmishers with me on this day. He was always a lively fellow, but

rather irritable in disposition. Just as the French went to the

right-about, I remember he d--d them furiously, and all his bullets

being gone, he grabbed a razor from his haversack, rammed it down,

and fired it after them.

"During this day I myself narrowly escaped being killed by our own

dragoons, for somehow or other in the confusion I fell whilst they

were charging, and the whole squadron thundering past just missed

me as I lay amongst the dead and wounded. Tired and over-weighted

with my knapsack and all my shoemaking implements, I lay where I had

fallen for a short time and watched the cavalry as they gained the

enemy. I observed a fine gallant-looking officer leading them on in

that charge. He was a brave fellow, and bore himself like a hero;

with his sword waving in the air he cheered the men on, as he went

dashing upon the enemy and hewing and slashing at them in tremendous

style. I watched for him as the dragoons came off after that charge,

but saw him no more; he had fallen. Fine fellow! his conduct indeed

made an impression upon me that I shall never forget, and I was told

afterwards that he was a brother of Sir John Eustace.

"A French soldier was lying beside me at this time; he was badly

wounded, and hearing him moan as he lay, after I had done looking at

the cavalry I turned my attention to him, and getting up lifted his

head and poured some water into his mouth. He was dying fast; but he

thanked me in a foreign language, which, although I did not exactly

understand, I could easily make out by the look he gave me. Mullins,

of the Rifles, who stepped up whilst I supported his head, d--d me

for a fool for my pains. 'Better knock out his brains, Harris,' said

he, 'he has done us mischief enough, I'll be bound for it, to-day.'"

Harris, it will be noticed, has no reserves. He relates incidents

which can hardly be regarded as creditable to the character of the

British private, and does it with an amusing unconsciousness as to the

impression his stories will produce on readers of a more sensitive

age. The British soldier of that day had a rough chivalry of his own.

He faced his foe gallantly on the battle-field. He would maintain a

friendly barter of spirits and rations with him when night had fallen

on contiguous bivouacs. But when his enemy was dead, and no more

fighting remained to be done, and no exchange of clandestine brandy was

possible, then the British private would empty his foeman's pockets

or take a pair of serviceable boots from his feet with the easiest

nonchalance. The transaction, he considered, did not injure the dead,

and it contributed to the comfort of the living. So Harris's tale of

the plundering and the night scenes of a battle-field resemble those

to be found in Smollett's "Count Fathom"--with this superiority on the

side of Harris, that his tales are transcripts of actual facts:--

"After the battle I strolled about the field, in order to see if

there was anything to be found worth picking up amongst the dead. The

first thing I saw was a three-pronged silver fork, which, as it lay

by itself, had most likely been dropped by some person who had been

on the lookout before me. A little farther on I saw a French soldier

sitting against a small rise in the ground or bank. He was wounded

in the throat and appeared very faint, the bosom of his coat being

saturated with the blood which had flowed down. By his side lay his

cap, and close to that was a bundle containing a quantity of gold and

silver crosses, which I concluded he had plundered from some convent

or church. He looked the picture of a sacrilegious thief, dying

hopelessly, and overtaken by Divine wrath. I kicked over his cap,

which was also full of plunder, but I declined taking anything from

him. I felt fearful of incurring the wrath of Heaven for the like

offence, so I left him, and passed on.

"A little farther off lay an officer of the 50th Regiment. I knew him

by sight, and recognised him as he lay. He was quite dead, and lying

on his back. He had been plundered, and his clothes were torn open.

Three bullet-holes were close together in the pit of his stomach.

Beside him lay an empty pocket-book, and his epaulette had been

pulled from his shoulder.

"I had moved on but a few paces, when I recollected that perhaps the

officer's shoes might serve me, my own being considerably the worse

for wear, so I returned again, went back, pulled one of his shoes

off, and knelt down on one knee to try it on. It was not much better

than my own; however, I determined on the exchange, and proceeded to

take off its fellow. As I did so I was startled by the sharp report

of a firelock, and at the same moment a bullet whistled close by my

head. Instantly starting up I turned and looked in the direction

whence the shot had come. There was no person near me in this part

of the field. The dead and the dying lay thickly all around, but

nothing else could I see. I looked to the priming of my rifle, and

again turned to the dead officer of the 50th. It was evident that

some plundering scoundrel had taken a shot at me, and the fact of his

doing so proclaimed him one of the enemy. To distinguish him amongst

the bodies strewn about was impossible; perhaps he might himself be

one of the wounded. Hardly had I effected the exchange, put on the

dead officer's shoes, and resumed my rifle, when another shot took

place, and a second ball whistled past me. This time I was ready, and

turning quickly I saw my man; he was just about to squat down behind

a small mound about twenty paces from me. I took a haphazard shot at

him, and instantly knocked him over. I immediately ran up to him; he

had fallen on his face, and I heaved him over on his back, bestrode

his body, and drew my sword-bayonet. There was, however, no occasion

for the precaution, as he was even then in the agonies of death.

"It was a relief to me to find I had not been mistaken. He was a

French light infantry man, and I therefore took it quite in the way

of business--he had attempted my life, and lost his own. It was the

fortune of war; so stooping down with my sword I cut the green

string that sustained his calabash, and took a hearty pull to quench

my thirst.

"After I had shot the French light infantry man, and quenched my

thirst from his calabash, finding he was quite dead, I proceeded to

search him. Whilst I turned him about in the endeavour at finding

the booty I felt pretty certain he had gathered from the slain, an

officer of the 60th approached and accosted me.

"'What, looking for money, my lad,' said he, 'eh?'

"'I am, sir,' I answered; 'but I cannot discover where this fellow

has hid his hoard.'

"'You knocked him over, my man,' he said, 'in good style, and deserve

something for the shot. Here,' he continued, stooping down, and

feeling in the lining of the Frenchman's coat, 'this is the place

where these rascals generally carry their coin. Rip up the lining of

his coat, and then search in his stock. I know them better than you

seem to do.'

"Thanking the officer for his courtesy, I proceeded to cut open the

lining of his jacket with my sword-bayonet, and was quickly rewarded

for my labour by finding a yellow silk purse, wrapped up in an old

black silk handkerchief. The purse contained several doubloons, three

or four Napoleons, and a few dollars. Whilst I was counting the

money, the value of which, except the dollars, I did not then know, I

heard the bugle of the Rifles sound out the assembly, so I touched my

cap to the officer and returned towards them.

"The men were standing at ease, with the officers in front. As I

approached them, Major Travers, who was in command of the four

companies, called me to him.

"'What have you got there, sir?' he said. 'Show me.'

"I handed him the purse, expecting a reprimand for my pains. He,

however, only laughed as he examined it, and turning showed it to his

brother officers.

"'You did that well, Harris,' he said, 'and I am sorry the purse

is not better filled. Fall in.' In saying this, he handed me back

the purse, and I joined my company. Soon afterwards, the roll being

called, we were all ordered to lie down and gain a little rest after

our day's work.

"We lay as we had stood enranked upon the field, and in a few

minutes, I dare say, one-half of that green line, over-wearied with

their exertions, were asleep upon the ground they had so short a time

before been fighting on. After we had lain for some little time I saw

several men strolling about the fields, so I again quietly rose, with

one or two others of the Rifles, and once more looked about me to see

what I could pick up amongst the slain.

"I had rambled some distance when I saw a French officer running

towards me with all his might, pursued by at least half-a-dozen

horsemen. The Frenchman was a tall, handsome-looking man, dressed

in a blue uniform; he ran as swiftly as a wild Indian, turning and

doubling like a hare. I held up my hand, and called to his pursuers

not to hurt him. One of the horsemen, however, cut him down with a

desperate blow when close beside me, and the next, wheeling round as

he leaned from his saddle, passed his sword through the body.

"I am sorry to say there was an English dragoon amongst these

scoundrels; the rest, by their dress, I judged to be Portuguese

cavalry. Whether the Frenchman thus slaughtered was a prisoner trying

to escape, or what was the cause of this cold-blooded piece of

cruelty, I know not, as the horsemen immediately galloped off without

a word of explanation; and, feeling quite disgusted with the scene I

had witnessed, I returned to my comrades, and again throwing myself

down, was soon as fast asleep as any there."

The plundering exploits of the British private were not always confined

to his foes, living or dead. His own officers sometimes suffered. Says

Harris:--

"I remember there was an officer, named, I think, Cardo, with the

Rifles. He was a great beau; but although rather effeminate and

ladylike in manners, so much so as to be remarked by the whole

regiment at that time, yet he was found to be a most gallant officer

when we were engaged with the enemy in the field. He was killed

whilst fighting bravely in the Pyrenees; and amongst other jewellery

he wore, he had a ring on his finger worth 150 guineas.

"As he lay dead on the field, one of our Riflemen, named Orr,

observed the sparkling gem, and immediately resolved to make prize of

it. The ring, however, was so firmly fixed that Orr could not draw

it from the finger, and, whipping out his knife, cut the finger off

by the joint. After the battle Orr offered the ring for sale amongst

the officers, and on inquiry the manner in which he had obtained

it transpired. Orr was in consequence tried by court-martial, and

sentenced to receive five hundred lashes, which sentence was carried

into execution."

CHAPTER IV

A MEMORABLE RETREAT

Harris found a new commander-in-chief in Sir John Moore, and it was his

fortune to share in the sufferings and glory of the immortal retreat to

Corunna. Moore has never yet come to his true inheritance of fame as a

commander. The great figure of Wellington hides him almost from human

memory. Yet no British general, perhaps, ever conceived and executed a

more audacious stroke of soldiership than did Moore when he made his

famous stroke at Napoleon's communication, and spoiled the whole plans

of that master-spirit in war for the conquest of Southern Spain, and

brought him and his far-scattered columns hurrying up to the north-west

angle of the Peninsula.

Napoleon had assumed in person the command of the French armies in

Spain, and had 300,000 veterans under his eagles. He had shattered the

Spanish armies, was in possession of the Spanish capital, and was on

the point of marching to overwhelm the rich provinces as yet unravaged

by war to the south. Moore, with 24,000 men under his command, resolved

to strike boldly at Napoleon's communications, and so arrest the

southward march of all the French columns. When, in this manner, he

had paralysed the strategy of the French, Moore calculated he could

outmarch all the converging columns rushing to destroy him, and

escape. But he was accepting a terrific risk.

Moore's generalship, though it was followed by the tragedy of the

retreat to Corunna, and his own death in the battle at that place,

was perfectly successful. He wrecked Napoleon's strategy, and yet

escaped his counter-stroke. He secured a breathing-space for the

Spanish nation. He arrested and brought to a close Napoleon's personal

career in that country. He made possible Wellington's great Peninsular

campaigns. It is one of the examples of the irony of history that to

Moore, one of the greatest soldiers England has produced, success

brought no adequate fame, and it cost him his own life.

The second battalion of the Rifles, to which Harris belonged, joined

Moore's forces at Sahagun, and the great retreat began almost

immediately afterwards. On December 24 Moore turned his columns

westward for their march to his sea-base at Corunna. It was a march of

some 220 miles, through rugged mountainous country, with the French

hanging on his rear or pushing past his flank, while the bitter

tempests of the winter in Northern Spain blackened the skies above the

toiling troops, and scourged them almost incessantly with snow and

sleet and rain. At Astorga, Moore divided his army, and part, under

Craufurd, took the road to Vigo. The Rifles formed part of Craufurd's

force, and Harris's account thus sheds light on what is the least known

branch of the famous retreat.

The retreat lasted in all eighteen days, and some 4000 men fell

from the ranks, slain by mere hardship and exposure, during that

comparatively brief period; yet the retreating British did not lose a

flag or a gun in the retreat, and when they turned to bay at Corunna

they proved that neither their discipline nor their fighting power had

been in the least impaired by their sufferings. Harris's account is

really a bit of very fine descriptive writing, though its charm lies

in its simplicity and its unconscious realism. It must be remembered

that when the second battalion of the Rifles joined Moore's forces at

Sahagun they were worn out with long marches, and the fame of Roliça

and Vimiero lay upon them. Moore's forces had up to that time seen

no fighting, and still carried in face and uniform something of the

freshness of barrack life:--

"At Sahagun we fell in with the army under command of Sir John Moore.

I forget how many thousand men there were; but they were lying in

and around the town when we arrived. The Rifles marched to an old

convent, some two miles from Sahagun, where we were quartered,

together with a part of the 15th Hussars, some of the Welsh

Fusiliers, and straggling bodies of men belonging to various other

regiments, all seeming on the _qui vive_, and expecting the French to

fall in with them every hour. As our small and wayworn party came to

a halt before the walls of the convent, the men from these different

regiments came swarming out to greet us, loudly cheering us as they

rushed up and seized our hands. The difference in appearance between

ourselves and these new-comers was indeed (just then) very great.

They looked fresh from good quarters and good rations. Their clothes

and accoutrements were comparatively new and clean, and their cheeks

ruddy with the glow of health and strength; whilst our men, on the

contrary, were gaunt-looking, wayworn, and ragged; our faces burnt

almost to the hue of an Asiatic's by the sun, our accoutrements rent

and torn, and many without even shoes to their feet. However, we had

some work in us yet, and perhaps were in better condition for it than

our more fresh-looking comrades."

Harris describes how, just before the retreat began, he was summoned

at midnight to undertake, on somewhat alarming conditions, a very

practical bit of preparation for the march:--

"In the middle of the night I remember, as well as if the sounds were

at this moment in my ear, that my name was called out many times

without my being completely awakened by the summons. From weariness

and the weight of my knapsack and the quantity of implements I

carried, I was at first quite unable to gain my legs; but when I did

so I found that Quarter-master Surtees was the person who was thus

disturbing my rest.

"'Come, be quick there, Harris!' he said, as I picked my way by the

light of the candle he held in his hand; 'look amongst the men, and

rouse up all the shoemakers you have in the four companies. I have a

job for them which must be done instantly.'

"With some little trouble, and not a few curses from them as I

stirred them up with the butt of my rifle, I succeeded in waking

several of our snoring handicrafts; and the quarter-master bidding

us instantly follow him, led the way to the very top of the convent

stairs. Passing then into a ruinous-looking apartment, along which

we walked upon the rafters, there being no flooring, he stopped when

he arrived at its farther extremity. Here he proceeded to call our

attention to a quantity of barrels of gunpowder lying beside a large

heap of raw bullocks' hides. 'Now, Harris,' said he, 'keep your eyes

open, and mind what you are about here. General Craufurd orders you

instantly to set to work and sew up every one of these barrels in

the hides lying before you. You are to sew the skins with the hair

outwards, and be quick about it, for the general swears that if the

job is not finished in half-an-hour he will hang you.'

"The latter part of this order was anything but pleasant, and whether

the general ever really gave it I never had an opportunity of

ascertaining. Well knowing the stuff Craufurd was made of, I received

the candle from the hands of Surtees, and bidding the men get

needles and waxed thread from their knapsacks, as the quarter-master

withdrew, I instantly prepared to set about the job.

"I often think of that night's work as I sit strapping away in my

little shop in Richmond Street, Soho. It was a curious scene to

look at, and the task neither very easy nor safe. The Riflemen were

wearied, unwilling, and out of temper; and it was as much as I could

do to get them to assist me. Moreover, they were so reckless that

they seemed rather to wish to blow the convent into the air than

to get on with their work. One moment the candle was dropped and

nearly extinguished; the next they lost their implements between

the rafters of the floor, flaring the light about amongst the

barrels, and wishing, as I remonstrated with them, that the powder

might ignite and blow me, themselves, and the general to ----. Such

were the Riflemen of the Peninsular War--daring, gallant, reckless

fellows. I had a hard task to get the work safely finished; but at

length between coaxing and bullying these dare-devils I managed

to do so, and together we returned down the convent stairs; and,

finding Surtees awaiting us in the passage below, he reported to

General Craufurd that his order had been obeyed. After which we were

permitted again to lie down and sleep till the bugle awoke us next

morning."

The exact moment when the advance for the purpose of falling on

Soult was exchanged for retreat at speed before Napoleon's fiercely

converging columns to the sea-coast is dramatically marked in Harris's

"Recollections." From the first, it will be noted, the retreat was

pushed with the utmost sternness and energy, and at the cost of great

suffering to the men. Moore had daringly advanced till his scanty

columns were almost caught by the overwhelming forces of the French

closing upon him; and to escape destruction the British had to tax

their own strength and energy to the utmost:--

"General Craufurd was in command of the brigade, and riding in front,

when I observed a dragoon come spurring furiously along the road to

meet us. He delivered a letter to the general, who turned round in

his saddle the moment he had read a few lines, and thundered out

the word 'to halt!' A few minutes more and we were all turned to

the right-about, and retracing our steps of the night before--the

contents of that epistle serving to furnish our men with many a

surmise during the retrograde movement. When we again neared Sahagun,

I remember seeing the wives and children of the men come rushing into

the ranks, and embracing the husbands and fathers they expected never

to see again.

"The entire Rifle corps entered the same convent we had before been

quartered in; but this time we remained enranked in its apartments

and passages, no man being allowed to quit his arms or lie down. We

stood leaning upon the muzzles of our rifles, and dozed as we stood.

After remaining thus for about an hour, we were then ordered out of

the convent, and the word was again given to march. There was a sort

of thaw on this day, and the rain fell fast. As we passed the walls

of the convent, I observed our general (Craufurd) as he sat upon

his horse, looking at us on the march, and remarked the peculiar

sternness of his features; he did not like to see us going rearwards

at all, and many of us judged there must be something wrong, by his

severe look and scowling eye.

"'Keep your ranks there, men!' he said, spurring his horse towards

some Riflemen who were avoiding a small rivulet. 'Keep your ranks and

move on--no straggling from the main body.'

"We pushed on all that day without halting; and I recollect the

first thing that struck us as somewhat odd was our passing one of

the commissariat waggons, overturned and stuck fast in the mud, and

which was abandoned without an effort to save any of its contents.

A sergeant of the 92nd Highlanders, just about this time, fell

dead with fatigue, and no one stopped as we passed to offer him

any assistance. Night came down upon us, without our having tasted

food or halted--I speak for myself and those around me--and all

night long we continued this dreadful march. Men began to look into

each other's faces, and ask the question, 'Are we ever to be halted

again?' and many of the weaker sort were now seen to stagger, make a

few desperate efforts, and then fall, perhaps to rise no more. Most

of us had devoured all we carried in our haversacks, and endeavoured

to catch up anything we could snatch from hut or cottage in our

route. Many, even at this period, would have straggled from the ranks

and perished had not Craufurd held them together with a firm rein.

One such bold and stern commander in the East, during a memorable

disaster, and that devoted army had reached its refuge unbroken!

Thus we staggered on night and day for about four days, before we

discovered the reason of this continued forced march. The discovery

was made to our company by a good-tempered, jolly fellow, named

Patrick McLauchlan. He inquired of an officer marching directly in

his front, the destination intended.

"'By J--s! Musther Hills,' I heard him say, 'where the d--l is this

you're taking us to?'

"'To England, McLauchlan,' returned the officer, with a melancholy

smile upon his face as he gave the answer--'if we can get there.'"

The Rifles formed part of the rearguard, and to the hardships and

sufferings common to the whole retreating force was added, in their

case, the strain of constant engagement with the enemy. As a matter of

fact, this served as a tonic to the men. It preserved their discipline.

It gave them what they felt to be a delightful distraction from the

monotony of splashing wet, hungry and faint, along muddy roads.

They forgot the blinding rain, the eddying snowflakes, the pinch of

hunger, as they turned a score of times in the day at bay and drove

back with the roll of their volleys the pursuing French cavalry. Here

are some pictures of how a British rearguard bears itself in adverse

circumstances:--

"The information McLauchlan obtained from Lieutenant Hill quickly

spread amongst us, and we now began to see more clearly the horrors

of our situation, and the men to murmur at not being permitted to

turn and stand at bay, cursing the French, and swearing they would

rather die ten thousand deaths, with their rifles in their hands in

opposition, than endure the present toil. We were in the rear at this

time, and following that part of the army which made for Vigo, whilst

the other portion of the British, being on the main road to Corunna,

were at this moment closely pursued and harassed by the enemy, as I

should judge from the continued thunder of their cannon and rattle

of their musketry. Craufurd seemed to sniff the sound of battle

from afar with peculiar feelings. He halted us for a few minutes

occasionally, when the distant clamour became more distinct, and his

face turned towards the sound, and seemed to light up and become

less stern. It was then, indeed, that every poor fellow clutched his

weapon more firmly and wished for a sight of the enemy.

"Before long they had their wish: the enemy's cavalry were on our

skirts that night; and as we rushed out of a small village, the name

of which I cannot now recollect, we turned to bay. Behind broken-down

carts and tumbrils, huge trunks of trees, and everything we could

scrape together, the Rifles lay and blazed away at the advancing

cavalry.

"We passed the night thus engaged, holding our own as well as we

could. Towards morning we moved down towards a small bridge, still

followed by the enemy, whom, however, we had sharply galled, and

obliged to be more wary in their efforts. The rain was pouring down

in torrents on this morning, I recollect, and we remained many hours

with our arms ported, standing in this manner, and staring the French

cavalry in the face, the water actually running out of the muzzles of

our rifles. I do not recollect seeing a single regiment of infantry

amongst the French force on this day; it seemed to me a tremendous

body of cavalry--some said nine or ten thousand strong--commanded, as

I heard, by General Lefebvre.

"Whilst we stood thus, face to face, I remember the horsemen of the

enemy sat watching us very intently, as if waiting for a favourable

moment to dash upon us like beasts of prey; and every now and then

their trumpets would ring out a lively strain of music as if to

encourage them. As the night drew on, our cavalry moved a little

to the front, together with several field-pieces, and succeeded in

crossing the bridge; after which we also advanced and threw ourselves

into some hilly ground on either side the road; whilst the 43rd and

52nd lay behind some carts, trunks of trees, and other materials with

which they had formed a barrier.

"General Craufurd was standing behind this barricade, when he

ordered the Rifles to push still farther in front, and conceal

themselves amongst the hills on either side. A man named Higgins was

my front-rank man at this moment. 'Harris,' he said, 'let you and I

gain the very top of the mountain, and look out what those French

thieves are at on the other side.'

"My feet were sore and bleeding, and the sinews of my legs ached as

if they would burst, but I resolved to accompany him. In our wearied

state the task was not easy, but, by the aid of Higgins, a tall and

powerful fellow, I managed to reach the top of the mountain, where we

placed ourselves in a sort of gully or ditch, and looked over to the

enemy's side, concealing ourselves by lying flat in the ditch as we

did so. Thus, in favourable situations, like cats watching for their

prey, were the rest of the Rifles lying perdu upon the hills that

night. The mountain we found was neither so steep nor so precipitous

on the enemy's side. The ascent, on the contrary, was so easy that

one or two of the videttes of the French cavalry were prowling about

very near where we lay. As we had received orders not to make more

noise than we could help, not even to speak to each other, except in

whispers, although one of these horsemen approached close to where I

lay, I forbore to fire upon him.

"At length he stopped so near me that I saw it was almost impossible

he could avoid discovering that the Rifles were in such close

proximity to his person. He gazed cautiously along the ridge, took

off his helmet, and wiped his face, as he appeared to meditate

upon the propriety of crossing the ditch in which we lay, when

suddenly our eyes met, and in an instant he plucked a pistol from

his holster, fired it in my face, and, wheeling his horse, plunged

down the hillside. For the moment I thought I was hit, as the ball

grazed my neck, and stuck fast in my knapsack, where I found it,

when, many days afterwards, I unpacked my kit on shipboard. About

a quarter of an hour after this, as we still lay in the gully, I

heard some person clambering up behind us, and, upon turning quickly

round, I found it was General Craufurd. The general was wrapped in

his greatcoat, and, like ourselves, had been for many hours drenched

to the skin, for the rain was coming down furiously. He carried in

his hand a canteen full of rum and a small cup, with which he was

occasionally endeavouring to refresh some of the men. He offered me a

drink as he passed, and then proceeded onwards along the ridge. After

he had emptied his canteen, he came past us again, and himself gave

us instructions as to our future proceedings.

"'When all is ready, Riflemen,' said he, 'you will immediately get

the word, and pass over the bridge. Be careful, and mind what you are

about.'

"Accordingly, a short time after he had left us, we were ordered to

descend the mountain side in single file, and having gained the road,

were quickly upon the bridge. Meanwhile the Staff Corps had been hard

at work mining the very centre of the structure, which was filled

with gunpowder, a narrow plank being all the aid we had by which to

pass over. For my own part, I was now so utterly helpless that I

felt as if all was nearly up with me, and that, if I could steady

myself so as to reach the farther end of the plank, it would be all I

should be able to accomplish. However, we managed all of us to reach

the other side in safety, when, almost immediately afterwards, the

bridge blew up with a tremendous report, and a house at its extremity

burst into flames. What with the concussion of the explosion and the

tremulous state of my limbs, I was thrown to the ground, and lay

flat upon my face for some time, almost in a state of insensibility.

After a while I somewhat recovered; but it was not without extreme

difficulty, and many times falling again, that I succeeded in

regaining the column.

"Soon after I had done so, we reached Benevento, and immediately took

refuge in a convent. Already three parts of it were filled with

other troops, among which were mingled the 10th Hussars, the German

Legion, and the 15th Dragoons; the horses of these regiments standing

as close as they could stand, with the men dismounted between each

horse, the animals' heads to the walls of the building, and all in

readiness to turn out on the instant. Liquor was handed to us by the

Dragoons, but having had nothing for some time to eat, many of our

men became sick instead of receiving any benefit from it.

"Before we had been in the convent as long a time as I have been

describing our arrival, every man of us was down on the floor, and

well nigh asleep; and before we had slept half-an-hour, we were again

aroused from our slumbers by the clatter of the horses, the clash of

the men's sabres, and their shouts for us to clear the way.

"'The enemy! The enemy!' I heard shouted out.

"'Clear the way, Rifles! Up, boys, and clear the way!'

"In short, the Dragoons hardly gave us time to rise before they were

leading their horses amongst us, and getting out of the convent as

fast as they could scamper, whilst we ourselves were not long in

following their example. As we did so, we discovered that the French

cavalry, having found the bridge blown up, had dashed into the stream

and succeeded in crossing. Our cavalry, however, quickly formed, and

charged them in gallant style.

"The shock of that encounter was tremendous to look upon, and we

stood for some time enranked watching the combatants. The horsemen

had it all to themselves; our Dragoons fought like tigers, and,

although greatly over-matched, drove the enemy back like a torrent,

and forced them again into the river. A private of the 10th

Hussars--his name, I think, was Franklin--dashed into the stream

after their general (Lefebvre), assailed him, sword in hand, in the

water, captured, and brought him a prisoner on shore again. If I

remember rightly, Franklin, or whatever else was his name, was made

a sergeant on the spot. The French general was delivered into our

custody on that occasion, and we cheered the men heartily as we

received him.

"After the enemy had received this check from our cavalry, and which

considerably damped their ardour, making them a trifle more shy of

us for a while, we pushed onwards on our painful march. I remember

marching close beside the French general during some part of this

day, and observing his chapfallen and dejected look as he rode along

in the midst of the green jackets."

In spite of all his own sufferings, Harris was still able to note,

with an unconsciously artistic eye, the scenes--wild, tragic, and

picturesque--which the retreat afforded:--

"Being constantly in rear of the main body, the scenes of distress

and misery I witnessed were dreadful to contemplate, particularly

amongst the women and children, who were lagging and falling behind,

their husbands and fathers being in the main body in our front.

We came to the edge of a deep ravine, the descent so steep and

precipitous, that it was impossible to keep our feet in getting

down, and we were sometimes obliged to sit and slide along on our

backs; whilst before us rose a ridge of mountains quite as steep and

difficult of ascent. There was, however, no pause in our exertion,

but, slinging our rifles round our necks, down the hill we went;

whilst mules with the baggage on their backs, wearied and urged

beyond their strength, were seen rolling from top to bottom, many of

them breaking their necks with the fall, and the baggage crushed,

smashed, and abandoned.

"I remember as I descended this hill remarking the extraordinary

sight afforded by the thousands of our redcoats, who were creeping

like snails, and toiling up the ascent before us, their muskets slung

round their necks, and clambering with both hands as they hauled

themselves up. As soon as we ourselves had gained the ascent we were

halted for a few minutes, in order to give us breath for another

effort, and then onwards we moved again.

"It is impossible for me to keep any account of time in this

description, as I never exactly knew how many days and nights we

marched; but I well know we kept on for many successive days and

nights without rest, or much in the way of food. The long day found

us still pushing on, and the night caused us no halt.

"We pushed on still cursing the enemy for not again showing

themselves, that we might revenge some of our present miseries upon

their heads.

"'Why don't they come on like men,' they cried, 'whilst we've

strength left in us to fight them?'

"We were now upon the mountains; the night was bitter cold, and the

snow falling fast. As day broke, I remember hearing Lieutenant Hill

say to another officer (who, by the way, afterwards sank down and

died), 'This is New Year's Day; and I think if we live to see another

we shall not easily forget it.'

"The mountains were now becoming more wild-looking and steep as we

proceeded, whilst those few huts we occasionally passed seemed so

utterly forlorn and wretched-looking, it appeared quite a wonder

how human beings could live in so desolate a home. After the snow

commenced the hills became so slippery (being in many parts covered

with ice), that several of our men frequently slipped and fell, and

being unable to rise, gave themselves up to despair and died. There

was now no endeavour to assist one another after a fall; it was every

one for himself, and God for us all!

"The enemy, I should think, were at this time frequently close upon

our trail; and I thought at times I heard their trumpets come down

the wind as we marched. Towards the dusk of the evening of this day

I remember passing a man and woman lying clasped in each other's

arms, and dying in the snow. I knew them both, but it was impossible

to help them. They belonged to the Rifles and were man and wife. The

man's name was Joseph Sitdown. During this retreat, as he had not

been in good health previously, himself and wife had been allowed to

get on in the best way they could in the front. They had, however,

now given in, and the last we ever saw of poor Sitdown and his wife

was on that night lying perishing in each other's arms in the snow.

"Many trivial things which happened during the retreat to Corunna,

and which on any other occasion might have entirely passed from my

memory, have been, as it were, branded into my remembrance, and I

recollect the most trifling incidents which occurred from day to

day during that march. I remember, amongst other matters, that we

were joined, if I may so term it, by a young recruit, when such an

addition was anything but wished for during the disasters of the

hour. One of the men's wives (who was struggling forward in the

ranks with us, presenting a ghastly picture of illness, misery, and

fatigue), being very large in the family-way, towards evening stepped

from amongst the crowd and laid herself down amidst the snow, a

little out of the main road. Her husband remained with her; and I

heard one or two hasty observations amongst our men that they had

taken possession of their last resting-place. The enemy were, indeed,

not far behind at this time, the night was coming down, and their

chance seemed in truth but a bad one.

"To remain behind the column of march in such weather was to perish,

and we accordingly soon forgot all about them. To my surprise,

however, I some little time afterwards (being myself then in the rear

of our party) again saw the woman. She was hurrying with her husband

after us, and in her arms she carried the babe she had just given

birth to. Her husband and herself between them managed to carry that

infant to the end of the retreat, where we embarked. God tempers the

wind, it is said, to the shorn lamb, and many years afterwards I saw

that boy a strong and healthy lad. The woman's name was M'Guire,

a sturdy and hardy Irishwoman; and lucky was it for herself and

babe that she was so, as that night of cold and sleet was in itself

sufficient to try the constitution of most females. I lost sight of

her, I recollect, on this night when the darkness came upon us, but

with the dawn, to my surprise she was still amongst us."

CHAPTER V

STERN SCENES

The sufferings of the retreat steadily increased. The weather grew more

bitter, the country more difficult, the supply of food scantier. Under

the strain of incessant marching, the strength of the men gave way. All

were ragged and hungry; many were bare-footed; many were sick, racked

with coughs, shaken with ague, or burning with fever. Their discipline

seemed to go to pieces. Nothing survived but a spirit of dogged, sullen

courage that seized, with a thrill of something like fierce delight,

every opportunity of turning on their relentless pursuers:--

"The shoes and boots of our party were now mostly either destroyed

or useless to us, from foul roads and long miles, and many of the

men were entirely bare-footed, with knapsacks and accoutrements

altogether in a dilapidated state. The officers were also, for the

most part, in as miserable a plight. They were pallid, wayworn,

their feet bleeding, and their faces overgrown with beards of many

days' growth. What a contrast did our corps display, even at this

period of the retreat, to my remembrance of them on the morning their

dashing appearance captivated my fancy in Ireland! Many of the poor

fellows, now near sinking with fatigue, reeled as if in a state of

drunkenness, and altogether I thought we looked the ghosts of our

former selves; still we held on resolutely. Our officers behaved

nobly, and Craufurd was not to be daunted by long miles, fatigue,

or foul weather. Many a man in that retreat caught courage from his

stern eye and gallant bearing. Indeed, I do not think the world ever

saw a more perfect soldier than General Craufurd.

"As the day began to dawn, we passed through another village--a long,

straggling place. The houses were all closed at this early hour, and

the inhabitants mostly buried in sleep, and, I dare say, unconscious

of the armed thousands who were pouring through their silent streets.

When about a couple of miles from this village, Craufurd again halted

us for about a quarter of an hour. It appeared to me that, with

returning daylight, he wished to have a good look at us this morning,

for he mingled amongst the men as we stood leaning upon our rifles,

gazing earnestly in our faces as he passed, in order to judge of our

plight by our countenances. He himself appeared anxious, but full

of fire and spirit, occasionally giving directions to the different

officers, and then speaking words of encouragement to the men. It is

my pride now to remember that General Craufurd seldom omitted a word

in passing to myself. On this occasion, he stopped in the midst and

addressed a few words to me, and, glancing down at my feet, observed--

"'What! no shoes, Harris, I see, eh?'

"'None, sir,' I replied; 'they have been gone many days back.' He

smiled, and passing on spoke to another man, and so on through the

whole body.

"Craufurd was, I remember, terribly severe during this retreat, if he

caught anything like pilfering amongst the men. As we stood, however,

during this short halt, a very tempting turnip field was close on the

side of us, and several of the men were so ravenous, that although

he was in our very ranks, they stepped into the field and helped

themselves to the turnips, devouring them like famishing wolves. He

either did not or would not observe the delinquency this time, and

soon afterwards gave the word and we moved on once more.

"About this period I remember another sight, which I shall not to

my dying day forget; and it causes me a sore heart even now as I

remember it. Soon after our halt beside the turnip field the screams

of a child near me caught my ear, and drew my attention to one

of our women, who was endeavouring to drag along a little boy of

about seven or eight years of age. The poor child was apparently

completely exhausted, and his legs falling under him. The mother had

occasionally, up to this time, been assisted by some of the men,

taking it in turn to help the little fellow on; but now all further

appeal was in vain. No man had more strength than was necessary for

the support of his own carcass, and the mother could no longer raise

the child in her arms, as her reeling pace too plainly showed. Still,

however, she continued to drag the child along with her. It was a

pitiable sight, and wonderful to behold the efforts the poor woman

made to keep the boy amongst us. At last the little fellow had not

even strength to cry, but, with mouth wide open, stumbled onwards,

until both sank down to rise no more. The poor woman herself had, for

some time, looked a moving corpse, and when the shades of evening

came down, they were far behind amongst the dead or dying in the

road."

Hunger and desperation sometimes tempted even the veterans of the

Rifles to leave the ranks in the hope of discovering, in some fold of

the lonely Asturian hills, a shepherd's hut, or a little farmhouse,

where food might be got at and an hour's shelter enjoyed. Harris

describes one such adventure undertaken by himself:--

"Towards evening we came to a part of the country of a yet wilder and

more desolate appearance even than that we had already traversed; a

dreary wilderness it appeared at this inclement season, and our men,

spite of the vigilance of the general, seemed many of them resolved

to stray into the open country rather than traverse the road before

them. The coming night favoured their designs, and many were before

morning lost to us through their own wilfulness. Amongst others I

found myself completely bewildered and lost upon the heath, and

should doubtless have perished had I not fallen in with another of

our corps in the same situation. As soon as we recognised each other

I found my companion in adversity was a strapping resolute fellow

named James Brooks, a north of Ireland man. He was afterwards killed

at Toulouse. He was delighted at having met with me, and we resolved

not to desert each other during the night. Brooks, as I have said,

was a strong, active, and resolute fellow, as indeed I had on more

occasions than one witnessed in Portugal. At the present time his

strength was useful to both of us.

"'Catch hold of my jacket, Harris,' said he; 'the ground here is

soft, and we must help each other to-night or we shall be lost in the

bogs.'

"Before long that which Brooks feared happened, and he found himself

stuck so fast in the morass that although I used my best efforts to

draw him out I only shared in the same disaster, so that, leaving

him, I turned and endeavoured to save my own life if possible,

calling to him to follow before he sank over head and ears. This was

an unlucky chance in our wearied state, as the more we floundered

in the dark, not knowing which way to gain a firmer foundation, the

faster we fixed ourselves. Poor Brooks was so disheartened that he

actually blubbered like a child. At length, during a pause in our

exertions, I thought I heard something like the bark of a dog come

down the wind. I bade Brooks listen, and we both distinctly heard

it--the sound gave us new hope just as we were about to abandon

ourselves to our fate. I advised Brooks to lay himself as flat as

he could and drag himself out of the slough, as I had found some

hard tufts of grass in the direction I tried; and so, by degrees,

we gained a firmer footing, and eventually succeeded in extricating

ourselves, though in such an exhausted state that for some time we

lay helplessly upon the ground unable to proceed.

"At length, with great caution, we ventured to move forwards in the

direction of the sounds we had just heard. We found, however, that

our situation was still very perilous, for in the darkness we hardly

dared to move a step in any direction without probing the ground with

our rifles, lest we should again sink and be eventually smothered

in the morasses we had strayed amongst. On a sudden, however, as we

carefully felt our way, we heard voices shouting in the distance, and

calling out 'Men lost! men lost!' which we immediately concluded were

the cries of some of our own people who were situated like ourselves.

"After a while I thought I saw, far away, something like a dancing

light, which seemed to flicker about, vanish, and reappear, similar

to a Jack-o'-lantern. I pointed it out to Brooks, and we agreed

to alter our course and move towards it. As we did so the light

seemed to approach us and grow larger. Presently another and another

appeared, like small twinkling stars, till they looked something like

the lamps upon one of our London bridges as seen from afar. The sight

revived our spirits, more especially as we could now distinctly hear

the shouts of people who appeared in search of the stragglers, and as

they approached us we perceived that such was indeed the case. The

lights, we now discovered, were furnished by bundles of straw and

dried twigs tied on the ends of long poles and dipped in tar. They

were borne in the hands of several Spanish peasants, from a village

near at hand, whom Craufurd had thus sent to our rescue.

"To return to my own adventures on this night. When Brooks and

myself reached the village I have mentioned we found it filled with

soldiers, standing and lying huddled together like cattle in a fair.

A most extraordinary sight it appeared as the torches of the peasants

flashed upon the wayworn and gaunt figures of our army. The rain was

coming down, too, on this night, I remember; and soon after I reached

our corps I fell helplessly to the ground in a miserable plight.

Brooks was himself greatly exhausted, but he behaved nobly, and

remained beside me, trying to persuade some of our men to assist him

in lifting me up, and gaining shelter in one of the houses at hand.

'May I be ----!' I heard him say, 'if I leave Harris to be butchered

in the streets by the cowardly Spaniards the moment our division

leaves the town.'

"At length Brooks succeeded in getting a man to help him, and

together they supported me into the passage of a house, where I lay

upon the floor for some time. After a while, by the help of some wine

they procured, I rallied and sat up, till eventually I got once more

upon my legs, and, arm in arm, we proceeded again into the streets

and joined our corps. Poor Brooks certainly saved my life that night.

He was one of the many good fellows whom I have seen out, and I

often think of him with feelings of gratitude as I sit at my work in

Richmond Street, Soho."

There were certainly not many men, even in Craufurd's rearguard,

stronger in body or hardier in temper than Harris, yet at last even his

iron strength and dauntless energy failed him. He began to lag behind,

making occasional and desperate rallies to keep up with his battalion.

He says:--

"I remember Sir Dudley Hill passing me on a mule this day. He wore a

Spanish straw hat and had his cloak on. He looked back when he had

passed, and addressed me: 'Harris,' said he, 'I see you cannot keep

up.' He appeared sorry for me, for he knew me well. 'You must do your

best,' he said, 'my man, and keep with us, or you will fall into the

hands of the enemy.' As the day wore on I grew weaker and weaker, and

at last, in spite of all my efforts, I saw the main body leave me

hopelessly in the lurch. Brooks himself was getting weaker too; he

saw it was of little use to urge me on, and at length, assenting to

my repeated request to be left behind, he hurried on as well as he

was able without a word of farewell. I now soon sank down in the road

and lay beside another man who had also fallen and was apparently

dead, and whom I recognised as one of our sergeants.

"Whilst we lay exhausted in the road the rearguard, which was now

endeavouring to drive on the stragglers, approached, and a sergeant

of the Rifles came up and stopped to look at us. He addressed himself

to me, and ordered me to rise; but I told him it was useless for him

to trouble himself about me as I was unable to move a step farther.

Whilst he was urging me to endeavour to rise up, the officer in

command of the rearguard also stepped up. The name of this officer

was Lieutenant Cox; he was a brave and good man, and observing that

the sergeant was rough in his language and manner towards me, he

silenced him and bade the guard proceed and leave me. 'Let him die

quietly, Hicks,' he said to the sergeant. 'I know him well; he's not

the man to lie here if he could get on. I am sorry, Harris,' he said,

'to see you reduced to this, for I fear there is no help to be had

now.' He then moved on after his men, and left me to my fate.

"After lying still for a while, I felt somewhat restored and sat up

to look about me. The sight was by no means cheering. On the road

behind me I saw men, women, mules, and horses lying at intervals,

both dead and dying; whilst far away in front I could just discern

the enfeebled army crawling out of sight, the women[4] huddled

together in its rear, trying their best to get forward amongst those

of the sick soldiery, who were now unable to keep up with the main

body. After a while I found that my companion, the sergeant, who lay

beside me, had also recovered a little, and I tried to cheer him up.

I told him that opposite to where we were lying there was a lane,

down which we might possibly find some place of shelter if we could

muster strength to explore it. The sergeant consented to make the

effort, but after two or three attempts to rise, gave it up. I myself

was more fortunate; with the aid of my rifle I got upon my legs,

and seeing death in my companion's face, I resolved to try and save

myself, since it was quite evident to me that I could render him no

assistance.

"After hobbling some distance down the lane, to my great joy I espied

a small hut or cabin with a little garden in its front; I therefore

opened the small door of the hovel, and was about to enter when I

considered that most likely I should be immediately knocked on the

head by the inmates if I did so. The rain, I remember, was coming

down in torrents at this time, and, reflecting that to remain outside

was but to die, I resolved at all events to try my luck within. I

had not much strength left, but I resolved to sell myself as dearly

as I could. I therefore brought up my rifle and stepped across the

threshold. As soon as I had done so I observed an old woman seated

beside a small fire upon the hearth. She turned her head as I

entered, and immediately upon seeing a strange soldier, she arose and

filled the hovel with her screams. As I drew back within the doorway

an elderly man, followed by two, who were apparently his sons, rushed

from a room in the interior. They immediately approached me; but

I brought up my rifle again and cocked it, bidding them keep their

distance.

"After I had thus brought them to a parley I got together what little

Spanish I was master of, and begged for shelter for the night and a

morsel of food, at the same time lifting my feet and displaying them

a mass of bleeding sores. It was not, however, till they had held a

tolerably long conversation among themselves that they consented to

afford me shelter, and then only upon the condition that I left by

daylight on the following morning. I accepted the conditions with

joy. Had they refused me I should indeed not have been here to tell

the tale. Knowing the treachery of the Spanish character, I however

refused to relinquish possession of my rifle, and my right hand was

ready in an instant to unsheath my bayonet, as they sat and stared at

me whilst I devoured the food they offered.

"All they gave me was some coarse black bread, and a pitcher of sour

wine. It was, however, acceptable to a half-famished man; and I felt

greatly revived by it. Whilst I supped, the old hag, who sat close

beside the hearth, stirred up the embers, that they might have a

better view of their guest, and the party meanwhile overwhelmed me

with questions, which I could neither comprehend nor had strength to

answer. I soon made signs to them that I was unable to maintain the

conversation, and begged of them, as well as I could, to show me some

place where I might lay my wearied limbs till dawn.

"Notwithstanding the weariness which pervaded my whole body, I was

unable for some time to sleep except by fitful snatches, such was

the fear I entertained of having my throat cut by the savage-looking

wretches still seated before the fire. Besides which, the place they

had permitted me to crawl into was more like an oven than anything

else, and being merely a sort of berth scooped out of the wall, was

so filled with fleas and other vermin, that I was stung and tormented

most miserably all night long.

"Bad as they had been, however, I felt somewhat restored by my

lodging and supper, and with the dawn I crawled out of my lair, left

the hut; retraced my steps along the lane, and once more emerged upon

the high-road, where I found my companion, the sergeant, dead, and

lying where I had left him the night before.

"I now made the best of my way along the road in the direction

in which I had last seen our army retreating the night before. A

solitary individual, I seemed left behind amongst those who had

perished. It was still raining, I remember, on this morning, and the

very dead looked comfortless in their last sleep as I passed them

occasionally lying on the line of march. It had pleased Heaven to

give me an iron constitution, or I must have failed, I think, on this

day, for the solitary journey and the miserable spectacles I beheld

rather damped my spirits.