days—and with empty stomachs. The Commissary of the division had either
missed us in his march with the provisions, for which he had been
dispatched to the rear, or else had not been successful in procuring
a supply: but whatever might have been the cause, the consequence
was trying to us; for the men, officers and all, were wholly without
provisions for three days. At the time the Commissary went to the rear,
two pounds of biscuit, one pound of meat, and a pint of wine, were
served out to each individual; and upon this quantity we were forced
to exist for five days; for nothing was to be bought: if we had been
loaded with gold, we could not have purchased a morsel of any sort of
food.
Most of the men, from having been accustomed to disappointment in
supplies of rations, managed their little stock of provision so
economically, that it lasted nearly three days; and some were so
gastronomically ingenious and heroic, as to have extended it to four.
But, on the other hand, the greatest number were men of great appetite
and little prudence, who saw and tasted the end of their rations on
the second day after possession. Indeed, the active life in which all
were then engaged, left few without that piquant relish for their food,
which the rich citizen in the midst of his luxury might gladly exchange
half his wealth for: the greatest of them all, in taste as well as
purse, can never enjoy his epulation with so enviable a zest, as those
campaigners did their coarse dry beef, and flinty biscuit.
As the men grew weaker, the work grew heavier; and as hunger increased,
so did the necessity for physical exertion. The enemy were constantly
annoying us, and every hour of the day brought a skirmish, either with
their little squads of cavalry, their riflemen, or their Voltigeurs.[20]
The rifles would advance by the cover of a hedge, or hill perhaps,
while the Voltigeurs would suddenly dart out from a ditch, into which
they had crept under cover of the weeds, and fall upon our pickets
with the ferocity of bull-dogs; and when they were mastered, would (if
not killed, wounded, or held fast) scamper off like kangaroos. In like
manner, the cavalry would try to surprise us; or, if they could not
steal upon us, would dash up, fire their pistols, and, if well opposed,
gallop off again—particularly if any of our cavalry were near; for they
never liked close quarters with the British dragoons, owing, no doubt,
to the superior strength and power of our horses:—this is as regards
mere skirmishing. The French dragoons, when so situated as to be able
to ride close to ours without danger of “cut and thrust,” would
skirmish for hours—they would retire, load, advance, fire, and off
again; but they very prudently disliked the steel.
On the fifth morning after the commissary had delivered the rations
above mentioned, we had a very sharp brush with the enemy. A company
of infantry and a few dragoons were ordered to dislodge the French
from a house in which they had a party, and which was necessary to the
security of our position; for from this house they used to sally upon
our pickets in a most annoying manner. The French, not more than about
fifty in number, made a considerable resistance: they received the
English with a volley from the windows, and immediately retreated to
a high bank behind the house: from this point they continued to fire
until their flank was threatened by our dragoons, when they retreated
in double-quick disorder, leaving about fifteen killed and wounded.
Our men were then starving. The poor fellows, although they had
forgotten their animal wants in the execution of their duty, plainly
displayed in their faces the weakness of their bodies. Every man of the
crowded encampment looked wan and melancholy; but all kept up their
flagging spirits by resolution and patience. Many a manly fellow felt
in silence the bitterness of his situation, and many a forced Hibernian
joke was passed from a suffering heart to lighten a comrade's cares.
There was no upbraiding, for all were sufferers alike; and, with the
exception of a few pardonable curses on the commissary, there was no
symptom of turbulence—all was manly patience.
In about an hour after the taking of the old house in front, I went
out from our huts in a wood to see the place of action. I met four or
five of our men wounded, led and carried by their comrades. The officer
commanding the party now joined me, and walked back to the house, to
give farther directions regarding other wounded men not yet removed.
When we had gone about fifty yards, we met a wounded soldier carried
very slowly in a blanket by four men. As soon as he saw the officer who
was along with me, he cried out in a feeble but forced voice, “Stop!
stop!—lay me down:—let me speak to the Captain.” The surgeon, who was
along with him, had no objection, for (in my opinion) he thought the
man beyond the power of his skill, and the sufferer was laid gently
down upon the turf, under the shade of a projecting rock. I knew the
wounded man's face in a moment, for I had often remarked him as being
a steady well-conducted soldier: his age was about forty-one or two,
and he had a wife and two children in England. I saw death in the poor
fellow's face. He was shot in the throat—or rather between the shoulder
and the throat: the ball passed apparently downwards, probably from
having been fired from the little hill on which the French posted
themselves when they left the house. The blood gurgled from the wound
at every exertion he made to speak. I asked the surgeon what he thought
of the man, and that gentleman whispered, “It is all over with him.”
He said he had done every thing he could to stop the blood, but found,
from the situation of the wound, that it was impossible to succeed.
The dying soldier, on being laid down, held out his hand to my friend
the Captain, which was not only cordially received, but pressed with
pity and tenderness by that officer. “Sir,” said the unhappy man,
gazing upon his Captain with such a look as I shall never forget—“Sir,
you have been my best friend ever since I entered the regiment—you
have been every man's friend in the company, and a good officer.—God
bless you!—You saved me once from punishment, which you and all knew
afterwards, that I was unjustly sentenced to.—God bless you!”—Here the
tears came from his eyes, and neither the Captain nor any one around
could conceal their kindred sensation. All wept silently.
The poor sufferer resumed;—“I have only to beg, Sir, you will take care
that my dear wife and little ones shall have my back pay as soon as
possible:—I am not many hours for this world.” The Captain pressed his
hand, but could not speak. He hid his face in his handkerchief.
“I have done my duty, Captain—have I not, Sir?”
“You have, Tom, you have—and nobly done it,” replied the Captain, with
great emotion.
“God bless you!—I have only one thing more to say.”—Then addressing
one of his comrades, he asked for his haversack, which was immediately
handed to him.—“I have only one thing to say, Captain:” said he,
“I have not been very well this week, Sir, and did not eat all my
rations.—I have one biscuit—it is all I possess.—You, as well as
others, Sir, are without bread;—take it for the sake of a poor grateful
soldier—take it—take it, Sir, and God be with you—God Almighty be with
you!”
The poor, good-natured creature was totally exhausted, as he concluded;
he leaned back—his eyes grew a dull glassy colour—his face still paler,
and he expired in about ten minutes after, on the spot. The Captain
wept like a child.
Few words were spoken. The body was borne along with us to the wood
where the division was bivouacked, and the whole of the company to
which the man belonged attended his interment, which took place in
about two hours after.
He was wrapped in his blanket, just as he was, and laid in the earth.
The Captain himself read a prayer over his grave, and pronounced a
short, but impressive eulogy on the merits of the departed. He showed
the men the biscuit, as he related to them the manner in which it
had been given to him, and he declared he would never taste it, but
_keep_ the token in remembrance of the good soldier, even though he
starved. The commissary, however, arrived that night, and prevented the
necessity of trial to the Captain's amiable resolution. At the same
time, I do believe, that nothing would have made him eat the biscuit.
This is no tale of fiction: the fact occurred before the author's eyes.
Let no man then, in his ignorance, throw taunts upon the soldier, and
tell him, that his gay apparel and his daily bread are paid for out
of the citizen's pocket. Rather let him think on this biscuit, and
reflect, that the soldier earns his crust as well as he, and when the
day of trial comes, will bear the worst and most appalling privations,
to keep the enemy from snatching _the last biscuit out of the citizen's
mouth_. It is for his countrymen at _home_ that he starves—it is for
them he dies.
FOOTNOTE:
[20] Troops of very short stature and strong make, very much esteemed
by Napoleon. They wore short breeches, and half gaiters. None of the
men were more than five feet three inches high.
THE BATTLE OF THE GRINDERS.
A DOMESTIC “AFFAIR.”
Quarrelsome dogs get dirty coats.
_Old Proverb._
It is to be greatly regretted that the lower orders of the people in
some of the towns where the military are quartered, often quarrel with
the soldiers; and it is still more so, that the fault is generally,
most unjustly, thrown upon the latter. From the admirable order which
is preserved throughout the whole of the British army, ill conduct
upon the part of the soldiery towards the people, as rarely occurs as
it escapes exemplary punishment. A drunken soldier, like any other
drunken individual, may be occasionally insolent or outrageous; but
certainly not more so because he _is_ a soldier. Unless under the
effects of intoxication, the first offence never—or at least very
seldom—comes from the soldier to the civilian. On the contrary, there
exists, among the inhabitants of many towns, a strong disposition
to insult the military—more particularly the officers: but this
reprehensible disposition, I am happy to think, is wholly confined to
the lowest order of the people. An authentic fact, which I am about
to relate, throws considerable light upon the real nature of such
quarrels. It is but too true, that when the report of an affray between
those two ingredients in the state goes forth, every body exclaims,
that the soldiers are in the wrong, and should be checked; military
despotism is held up as making rapid strides; and British liberty is
represented as in danger of being trodden under foot, forsooth, by an
insolent soldiery! This is often the cry, even amongst enlightened
men, when they hear of a quarrel between the military and the people,
or rather the _rabble_; for, thank God! the men properly designated by
that grand and mighty term, “_the people_,” are far removed in mind
as well as manners, from those composing the ignorant and factious
class who delight in doing all the injury in their power, not only to
a soldier, but to every one entrusted with the preservation of social
order. These, thank God! are also of the fewer number.
The Grinders[21] (as they are termed) of Sheffield were formerly very
annoying to the dragoons quartered near them; and, unless they have
changed their manners within the last three or four years, continue
in that evil disposition to this day. But I have little hope that
any change has taken place; for they appeared of that order whose
noses were peculiarly suited to the grinding-stone; and though the
wheel may go round for half a century, it will, I fear, never give
their intellects a polish, even of the dullest kind. But although the
better classes of Sheffielders are neither famous for hospitality to
nor regard for the military, yet they are never forward in offering
disrespect to them; and the officers quartered amongst them have
sometimes met with individuals worthy of that gratitude which is due
for every cordial and hospitable attention.
Some years ago, the 5th Dragoon Guards, or Green Horse, were on duty
at Sheffield.—The officers of the heavy dragoons, to which class this
regiment belongs, have never been remarkable for military coxcombry; on
the contrary, they have been always remarked for sedate and gentlemanly
demeanour. There is, therefore, less pretext for the insult which gave
rise to the conflict I am about to describe.
Two of the Green Horse officers—a captain and a subaltern, were
proceeding quietly from Sheffield towards their barracks, which lay
about half a mile out of the town: a squad of Grinders coming from
their work overtook them; and, grinning through the dirty tunic which
invariably covers the faces of all their tribe, opened a volley of
gibes and jeers upon the officers. “There be two b—— red herrings!”
said one. “They're a gotten more gould on their jackets than in their
pockets,[22] I'll warrant,” observed another, and so on; accompanying
their coarse remarks by an expression of countenance and manner not to
be misunderstood by the passers-by, who rather encouraged the outrage
by approving looks. This provoking annoyance continued several minutes,
but the officers walked quietly on, and apparently took no notice of
their persecutors. As they proceeded, two privates of their regiment
happened to turn out of a passage on their way to the barracks, and
thus accidentally fell in, close to the rear of the grinders; and had,
therefore, a full opportunity of witnessing what was going forward.
As soon as they perceived the real state of matters, both stepped up
to the officers; and having given the salute in line, one of them
respectfully asked, “if their honours would have any objection to let
them give the fellows a small bit of a threshing.” So reasonable a
request could hardly be denied: the only fear the officers had, was
that the grinders, who were five in number, might prove too many for
the soldiers. However, a good will is half the battle; and, as the
two dragoons were strapping active fellows, without any kind of arms
except those with which nature had furnished them—one, a well-made
Lancashire man of five feet eleven inches, and the other, a hard
square-built Hibernian, of about two inches less—and as both were in
light stable dresses, which seemed _cut out_ for the occasion, it was
decided by the officers that their men should, if possible, render to
the five grinders what, in justice, they so well deserved.
Scarcely had a minute elapsed from the issuing of orders to attack,
when the five mechanics lay in various convoluted positions in the
dust, the colour of which was instantly changed to florid red in
various parts, owing to the operations performed upon some of the
fallen noses by the knuckles of the heavy dragoons—
“And Earth blushed deep for her base sons' offences.”
An attempt to rally was several times made by the grinders, but
although men of _steel_ and familiar with the _blade_, their skill and
strength but little availed, so they prudently beat a retreat, having
been first well beaten themselves.
The troops now coolly withdrew from the field of action in perfect
order, having received the unqualified thanks of the _officer
commanding_. But the enemy, who had now received a consider able
reinforcement, pursued by rapid marches the _Heavies_, and came up with
them within about a hundred yards from the barracks. The grinders'
force was now increased to about one hundred, well armed with hammers,
knives, and pokers. The barrack-gate was in view of the two soldiers,
who had retreated so far extremely well, but closely followed up by the
enemy's skirmishers. A party of about a dozen now joined the dragoons,
and attacked the foe with vigour; but this handful could do little
against so numerous an enemy, except to secure an orderly retreat into
the garrison. This was done, and the gates closed upon them. Meantime
the grinders mustered in great numbers, receiving reinforcements from
all quarters, and seemed to threaten an assault upon the barracks. A
sortie was immediately determined upon, and only one restriction put
upon the troopers—whose force was now about eighty—namely, that they
should not carry with them to the attack their swords, pistols, or
carbines, but every man should provide himself with a broom-stick.
The stable-brooms flew from their staves _instanter_ at the kick of
the enraged dragoons; but as there was not a sufficient number of
those formidable weapons, iron sword-scabbards, shovel handles, and
rack-bars, by further permission, completed the arms of the troops.
The sortie was conducted in a most admirable manner:—the gates were
thrown open by an instantaneous movement: a sergeant's guard, armed
with carbines and swords, appeared drawn up in line on the inside:
the Grinders beheld the formidable force, and the word “_ready_”
struck such a panic into their hearts, that they ran off in confusion,
without waiting for the “_present_.” However, they did not run far;
but halted at the end of the road, about fifty yards from the gates;
and their leaders were in the act of encouraging them to return to the
assault, by appealing to the powers that watched over the “_rights of
the people_.”—“Magna Charta, and the cause of the Grinders!” were the
last words of the chief; and the effect of his speech was manifested
in loud huzzas. At this instant the Broomsticks sallied out upon the
Grinders, with a desperation which obliterated in a moment even the
traces of their chief's harangue. Little was the use of the hammer, the
knife, or the poker; the obtundity of the broomsticks beat down every
point, and workmen with their tools were strewed along the inglorious
ground—_ground_ as it were, while they ought to have been employed in
_grinding_. Never was military power exerted over the “power of the
people” more to the satisfaction of every body, except the Grinders
themselves; for they were not cut in pieces by the sword, nor their
heads blown off by the ball; but belaboured with broomsticks in the
most admirable and _popular_ manner, by a force two-thirds inferior to
their own!
It is much to be regretted that plebeian freaks should produce serious
evils; but effects will follow causes, in spite of our regrets. This
affair, although attended with no loss of lives, produced considerable
loss not only to the employers of the Grinders, but to the families
of the unfortunate combatants; for seventy were taken wounded to the
hospital in an hour after the first attack, and some suffered a long
time under their wounds. They, however, received an excellent lesson,
which they did not soon forget; for when the 5th Dragoon Guards, in a
few years after, were quartered amongst them, instead of insult they
met with the greatest respect—(_à la distance_)—from the entire body of
the Grinders.
FOOTNOTES:
[21] The lowest order of workmen employed in the manufacture of cutlery.
[22] Both the officers were men of considerable private fortune. One
was a captain, now retired from the army, and residing on his estate
at Newcastle-on-Tyne.
A ROUGH PASSAGE TO PORTUGAL:
SKETCHED FOR THE
BENEFIT OF YOUNG OFFICERS.
At mercy of the waves, whose mercies are
Like human beings during civil war. BYRON.
“Whatever is, is right.” These words served to adorn the poetry of
Pope; and as a consolatory axiom, to soothe the injuries inflicted
upon mankind during this “pilgrimage here below,” it serves a good
purpose; but, however consoling it may be to the philosopher under
worldly troubles, it answers but poorly its intentions with a young
subaltern, who from “the turn of a straw,” has been thrown out of his
promotion; and so finds his flattering day-dreams of hope turned into
painful and disappointing realities. The moral tongue may tell him—“all
is for the best;” that, “whatever is, is right,” and his own lip may
echo the maxim with a sigh of approbation, but he cannot in his heart
believe it: reflection, “like a worm i' the bud,” feeds upon him with
a more active and injurious tooth, than that of the insect which gnaws
the page of the moralist. Of this I feel convinced, although I know I
disobey the Fathers in so doing; but I cannot help it: nor can I help
thinking, that the occurrences of the voyage I am about to describe,
tended to any thing but the benefit of the three subalterns who
encountered them; any more than I can help feeling satisfied, that the
petty trickery of a boatman's trade produced the evils I allude to, and
changed totally the chances and prospects in life of three individuals.
There are so many leading causes to all evils, that it is difficult
to say which may be properly fixed on as the most responsible. As
the smallest pebble thrown upon the silent lake will displace,
imperceptibly, every particle of its waters, so does each movement
of our life influence the undisturbed mirror of futurity which lies
before us. The incidents of our existence are like the fragments within
the glasses of the kaleidoscope—the slightest movement changes, more or
less, the whole of the succeeding pictures. Thus were the flattering
views of three individuals changed by the ordinary turn of a boatman's
roguery. Had this little circumstance never occurred, a totally
different course of events must necessarily have followed:—but after
all, perhaps, we may say, would it have been better?
Two young and inexperienced officers, whom I will introduce under
the names of Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown, were ordered, in January 1810,
to join the army in Portugal. They took the coach immediately and
proceeded to Portsmouth, where they received an order for a passage
from Captain Patten, the agent for transports. The master of the vessel
appointed for their passage happened to be in the agent's office at
the time, and reported that the accommodation was desirable. His was
a store-ship, which had no troops on board; so that the cabin was to
be in the sole possession of the two Subalterns—no small advantage to
those who dislike the inconvenience of a sea-sick crowd, packed into
fifteen feet by ten of a transport's cabin, and no prospect of good
weather. The master of the vessel also informed them that there was
every prospect of sailing immediately, as the wind was quite fair, and
recommended them to lose no time in getting on board.
The officers hastened to embark. They remained no longer in Portsmouth
than was necessary to allow of their purchasing a sea-stock of fresh
provisions, consisting of half a sheep, some tea and sugar, a few
loaves of fresh bread, three or four bottles of milk, and a couple of
dozen of eggs. This matter did not take up more than an hour. They
paid their hotel expenses, and one of them stepped down to the Point
to engage a boat to take them to their ship, which was at anchor at
Spithead. The fare is regulated at three shillings each boat for that
distance, unless when the wind is blowing fresh, and then it is six
shillings. There was a stiff breeze out; but by no means entitling
boats to the double fare. The officer selected a boatman, and told him
he would give him six shillings if he would take him and his friend,
but the amphibious shark, knowing that the signal was made for sailing,
demanded fourteen; which unreasonable demand was agreed to and the
matter settled. The officer now returned to the inn, and in ten minutes
baggage and all were on the beach. But the boat was gone, nor could
the boatman be found. In vain were others of his calling requested to
take the fare; the vessels were getting under weigh, and nothing less
than five pounds was the demand for a boat. This was evidently a trick
played off by the man who was engaged for fourteen shillings, in the
hope of dividing a much larger sum with whatever other of his fellows
should be employed.
Now there were two strong reasons why the officers would not submit
to this imposition: one might have been waived, but the other was
absolute: in the first place, they thought it would be a service to the
public to have the man, who had disappointed them, punished; and in the
next they really could not afford to pay the sum demanded by the other
boatmen. In this situation, they had the mortification to see the whole
fleet set sail from the harbour.