Jennings, the young clergyman--you know Bob--great favourite of the
Cathedral big-wigs:--well, they and I were going quietly home about
three o’clock this morning, a little merry, and just strolled into the
church-yard to give little Fanny Giggleton a good-night serenade: her
bed-room window, you know, looks into the church-yard. So we began
singing “_Rest thee babe_” in full chorus, and finished by roaring
“_Jolly companions every one_,” when the watchman came over to us and
told us to go home. Jennings the clergyman was nearest to him, and
bade him to go to the d----l. Charley seized his Reverence, and his
Reverence seized him. I went up to the old guardian, and warned him
off: he took no notice; so I caught him by the back of his collar
with my left hand, and by the posterior portion of his _unspeakables_
with my right: Jennings held one arm, Jackson another, Jones before
us--so on we “_run_” him out of the church-yard and up the watch-house
stairs:--The watch-house, you know, is the ancient theatre, and is over
the butchers’ shambles. Into it we bundled him--charged him before
the night Constable with highly disorderly conduct, in disturbing
gentlemen who were enjoying a song, and also with gross insolence.
The Dogberry, of course, sided with the watchman. “What’s your name,
Sir?” said he to me. “My name,” said I, “is Old Trumpetson, from the
Cape.” He then began to write it down, “T. r. u. m. p. son, that’s
it,--Trumpetson,--now I have it. Well, Mr. Trumpetson, you are one of
the officers of the garrison; I know where to find you in the morning;
and you Mr. Jenkins also.” My cane now happened to drop, and I took
the candle off the table to look for it. The Constable stooped down
also beside me--his red nose looked so tempting that I could not resist
the joke--I bobbed the candle into his face; the light went out, and
he roared lustily. All was now confusion: I seized a lantern and
rattle--Jackson, Jones, and Jenkins ran down stairs--I after them,
first locking the door outside upon the pair within; which I did in an
instant. There we left them, and I suppose they neither got light nor
liberty, until some of their brethren came to open the door. I know I
shall meet with no mercy from old Muddlehead, the magistrate: he hates
the military--and me more than all the rest.
_Ensign Luby._ Did you really burn the fellow’s nose?
_Ensign Buckskin._ Burn?--ay, that you may depend upon.
_Lieut. Short._ I saw him to-day in the barrack looking for the
Commandant--his nose was in a small calico bag. [_a laugh._]
_Ensign Buckskin._ Well, they may all go to the d----l in a bunch. I’ll
pay the fellow for his nose.
_Ensign Luby._ Ay, Jack, my boy, and if you want money--see here! it is
at your service.
[_pulls out a handful of notes._
_Ensign Buckskin._ I don’t know that I shall run short yet; however,
lend me ten: [_takes a note out of Luby’s hand_] thank you--all right,
Luby; I’ll pay you, my boy.
_Ensign Luby._ Don’t mention it; I have this day received a remittance,
as I said before, and any of my friends may share it as far as it
will go. I have not been long in the army, but I know this--that
good-fellowship is the soul of it.
_Capt. Alder._ I think you said this evening, that Trotter’s _fault_
was liberality.
_Ensign Luby._ Yes, yes--but liberality for ever! that I say.
[_A strong hiccup, together with certain rollings of the eye and
screwings of the lips, now gave evidence of Mr. Luby’s intellectual
state._
_Capt. Alder._ Well, gentlemen, I must be off. Will you go, Captain
Bell?
_Capt Bell._ Yes.
_Capt. Saunders._ So will I.
[_The three Captains rise and withdraw._
_Ensign Luby._ Let them go: what do we want with Captains here? we are
all jolly subs. now; so Buckskin give us a song.
_Ensign Simple._ I--think--I’ll--go--too. [_rises._
_Ensign Luby._ Ay, go and take your gruel.
_Ensign Simple._ I don’t know why you talk of _gruel_, Mr. Luby. I wish
to go to bed early, and to rise betimes in the morning to my drill:
“Early to bed and early to rise,
Make a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
_Ensign Buckskin._ Well, no preaching! good-night--say your prayers,
and tie your night-cap well on.
[_Ensign Simple now retires sulkily, accompanied by a laugh from
all the company._
_Ensign Luby._ That fellow is fitter for the pro--pro--profession of
a--hic--linendraper, than the the--hic--trade of a soldier. Come, I’ll
give you a song.
_Ensign Buckskin._ Bravo! song! song! Now I mean to _begin_ the evening.
[_Ensign Luby sings “The glasses sparkle on the board,” so
completely out of tune that nobody knows what to make of it; the
conclusion, however, is loudly applauded._
_Ensign Buckskin._--
“A very good song, and very well sung,
(_Chorus by all._)
Jolly companions every one.
We only live life to enjoy--
We only live life to enjoy--
How happy’s the soldier who lives on his pay,
And spends half-a-crown out of six-pence a day.
We are the boys for mirth and glee--
We are the boys for jollity.
And so we fell a drinking,
So we fell a drinking,
Drinking, drinking,
So we fell a drinking.
We shan’t go home till morning,
We shan’t go home till morning,
We shan’t go home till morning--
’Till daylight does appear.”
Ye--he--hip! Yoix! hark forward! stole away!
e-oic!--e-oic!--e-oic!--hoo--oo--oo--hip!
_All the Mess._ Bravo! bravo! bravo!
[_Just as the song concludes, a servant enters and approaches the
table._
_Servant._ Plase your honor, Gintlemin, the Major sinds his compliments
to yiz, an’ hopes that yiz won’t make such an uproar; becaise the
Major’s lady, my misthress, has a great headache. I know, to my own
knowledge, that she took physic this mornin’, an’ complained of a
gripin’. (_A roar of laughter._) Oh, ’faith! I tell yiz no lies at all
at all; for she’s as crass as two sticks to boot; which always shows
she’s ill.
_Ensign Buckskin._ Ill-tempered you mean, Sir. Go along, and tell the
Major that we shall _endeavour_ to moderate our mirth; and, d’ ye
hear?--very sorry for the Major’s lady. (_Exit Servant._) What the
d----l have ladies to do living in barracks, I say.
_Ensign Luby._ Right--hic--Barracks are only fit for single men--hic!
Fire away, lads! who cares for the--hic--Major?
_Ensign Newby._ Or his wife either?
_Ensign Buckskin._ He’ll have us all to drill in the morning for this.
So, my lads, let us drill _him_ a little now. Song--song!
[_A tremendous noise is heard, something like the rolling of bricks
or large stones down stairs._
_All the Mess._ Eh! what’s that?
_Ensign Buckskin._ It’s the Major. He has fallen down stairs. (_A
similar noise is heard nearer the door._) Here he comes--now for a
wigging. Don’t laugh for a dukedom.
_Voice (without)._ I’ll see who dared to serve me so--that I will.
[_The door opens, and Ensign Simple, half undressed, enters,
pushing before him a small donkey. A roar of laughter greets the
visitors._
_Ensign Simple._ You may laugh, Gentlemen, but I am determined to
have satisfaction for this disgraceful conduct. (_Another roar of
laughter._) It is no joke--it is a most disgraceful liberty to take
with any one; and I will not suffer it. I neither offend nor meddle
with any body, and I expect nobody will meddle with me.
_Lieut. Short._ What, in the name of all that’s beautiful! is the
matter with you? Are you mad?
_Ensign Simple._ Mad! No, Sir; but I have been disgracefully treated.
This donkey, Sir, has been brought up to my room, and tied fast in
my bed, Sir;--the whole of my apartment, Sir, has been dirtied and
disfigured by the brute. (_Shouts of laughter._) You are all concerned
in this shameful trick. Why don’t you play upon those who deserve it? I
never make free with any of you.
_Lieut. Short._ Perhaps that’s the reason they play tricks on you.
_Ensign Simple._ Then I am determined to put it down. I bore with
former insults, but I will not with this. You took a leg of mutton and
a pound of butter out of my cupboard last week, and put them between
my sheets, along with the fender: this I took no notice of. But to put
a creature like that into my bed, dirty as he is--I’ll never bear with
it. I’ll write to my father to-morrow to come down and investigate the
affair.
_Ensign Buckskin._ You must be a clever fellow, as well as a very
presuming one, to fix the donkey-saddle on us. Who told you that _we_
did it?
_Ensign Simple._ I know it was some of you, if not all.
_Ensign Buckskin._ Come, ask the gentleman himself who tied him in the
bed; he knows more about it than you do, a great jackass as he is.
_Ensign Luby._ (_to the Donkey._) Who tied you, Sir?--hic--eh?--He
won’t answer.
_Ensign Simple._ I see you are all leagued against me, because I don’t
squander my money amongst you; but I’ll have satisfaction--that I’m
resolved on.
(_Ensign Luby, inattentive to the last observation, mounts the
donkey and rides him round the mess-table, while Buckskin gives a
tremendous view halloo! During the uproar, the Major-commanding
enters with his servant, frothing at the mouth with passion._
_Major._ Turn that donkey out directly. What _can_ all this mean?
Mr. Short, I am surprised that _you_, who have been a member of a
_regimental_ mess, should join in such disgraceful proceedings. Who
brought this animal here?
_Several Voices._ Mr. Simple.
_Major._ Then, Mr. Simple, go to your room. Consider yourself in arrest.
_Ensign Simple._ I am not to blame, Major.
_Major._ Go to your room, Sir. I’ll not hear a word to-night; your
conduct is disgraceful.
_Ensign Simple._ I am not the person.
_Major._ You brought the ass into the mess-room, Sir.
_Ensign Simple._ I found him in my bed, Sir, and covered with my
bed-clothes: it is impossible that I can sleep in my room to-night,
from the horrid state in which the animal has left it.
(_The Major’s ire could not bear up against this; he struggled
against an involuntary laugh, and had nearly overcome it, when a
certain motion of the animal, and a grotesque elevation of his tail
put an end to all his efforts to be severe; so he gave way to a
hearty fit of laughter, in which all but Simple joined._
_Major._ Take the cursed brute away, you Sir.
(_Pat the servant pulls the Donkey out of the room._
_Pat._ He’s a horrid headsthrong baste as ever I pult.
(_Exeunt Pat and Donkey, followed by the mess-waiter._
_Major._ I see how it is, Mr. Simple; there has been a trick played
off at your expense. I am very sorry that folly should lead officers
to such excesses, but I fear we can never remedy the evil. I am an
old officer, gentlemen--I have been thirty years in the service, and
as long as I can remember a depot-mess, it has been the same--all
disjointed--one scene of disagreement constantly presents itself.
A number of mere boys meet together, unacquainted wholly with the
rules and habits of a regiment,--uncontrolled by the friendly opinions
and directions of their own superior officers, and they give way to
every species of folly. I do believe that the practice of sending
Ensigns to depots is most injurious to the service. A youth is sent
from school to a depot, where there is not perhaps one officer of his
own regiment: little or no attention is paid to his conduct; he is
neither advised nor restrained, at a time when he most requires it;
and the consequences are, that every folly, if not vice, assails him,
and he joins his regiment with an impression which even that excellent
school finds difficult to remove--his health impaired, and his pocket
exhausted. Gentlemen, I am giving you a friend’s opinion, and hope
every one of you will use your exertions to check the follies which
prevail but too much at this depot: and let me also assure you that the
sooner you all join your respective regiments the better--each of you
can use your private exertions to that effect, and I will use mine.
[_This address produced symptoms of sanity in the young officers;
they in the most cordial manner thanked the Major, who shook hands
with them all, and the party retired in the most unexpectedly
peaceable disposition._
* * * * *
The above sketch is not at all exaggerated: it is outlined for the
benefit of young officers; and also in the hope that it may meet the
eye of those of their superiors who may have it in their power to
remedy the defect.
RECOLLECTIONS
OF THE
LAST CAMPAIGN IN THE PENINSULA.
Halt ye not for food or slumber,
View not ’vantage, count not number;
Jolly reapers, forward still!
Grow the crop on vale or hill.
Thick or scattered, stiff or lithe,
It shall down before the scythe.
Forward with your sickles bright,
Reap the harvest of the fight.
SCOTT.
After four years of indefatigable exertions--doubt and
disaster--success and glory--sickness and privation--hope and
delight--the British army began to prepare for the promising campaign
of 1813, under a chief whose military talents had riveted the
confidence alike of his soldiers, as the citizens of that empire,
for whose weal--for whose glory--for whose existence as a mistress
of the world, he had shared in all the privations and sufferings of
his troops, and was ready still to endure even to death, or crown his
country’s hopes with success in that mighty and awful strife which
engaged her so long. The winter had passed, and the early spring
of Portugal had brought to that country reinforcements, money, and
equipments, the want of which had but too frequently impeded the
success of our army in the Peninsula. Transports were continually
floating up the sunny Tagus, with their red-cross flags waving from the
masts--their decks covered with glittering accoutrements, and hearty
soldiers: fresh detachments and fresh regiments were daily filing off
the public squares of Lisbon, to join the grand army; while the eyes of
the often disappointed Portuguese followed them with patriotic hope,
and their hearts and tongues ejaculated wishes for their success. The
road from Lisbon to Coimbra and Vizeu, which had so often withered
under the wasteful tread of war, now glistened with groups of laughing
soldiers and brightening prospects; even the ruined towns of Condexia
and Pumbal lost their appearance of despair, and assumed a faint
aspect of hope--such as the dying feel from leech’s promises. The
inhabitants everywhere were kind, the season was propitious, and the
soldiery seemed to have caught a spirit of confidence which reacted
on the people; and if it did not entirely remove their doubts and
fears, it tended considerably to advance their hopes of success, and
to tranquillize their long-disturbed minds. The arrival of the Hussar
brigade at Lisbon affected the Portuguese more than any of the other
warlike preparations--it was a cordial to their feeble spirits. This
brigade consisted of the 10th, 15th, and 18th Hussars; and certainly
its appearance was sufficient to encourage them highly;--the genius
of romantic chivalry never imagined a more warlike and beautiful body
of horse--their perfect discipline--their splendid equipments--their
health and spirits--the true British halo which seemed to glisten
around them--all conspired to elevate the Lisbonians almost to a
certainty of success in the approaching campaign.
At no period of the war was there more cause for strong hope in
the Portuguese than at this time: all the fortresses in their
frontier-towns were in our possession--those provinces of Spain which
were the favourites of Soult’s army evacuated--Souchet just defeated
by Sir John Murray in the South--and Buonaparte ably opposed by the
Russians; but the Portuguese had been so often led astray by flattering
prospects, that nothing short of entire success could wholly convince
them that they were secure from the persecutions of the French.
On the 20th of April I found myself at Oporto, having marched from
Coimbra for the purpose of joining the left, or third column of the
army, under the command of Sir Thomas Graham; which was destined to
enter Spain by _Tras os Montes_. This column consisted of the first,
third, and fifth divisions, together with the first cavalry division.
The second, or centre column, was under the immediate command of his
Grace the Duke of Wellington; and consisted, I believe, of the fourth,
sixth, seventh, and light divisions: this was to advance to Salamanca.
The first, or right column of the army, under the command of Lord Hill,
was to proceed along the Tagus toward Toledo. Thus all the forces
under the command of the Duke of Wellington were divided into three
powerful columns; and so disposed as to be available at several points
of attack.--A finer army--better officered and better equipped, from
the massy ponton to the tent peg, never took the field; and none ever
acquitted themselves there more creditably.
In sketching what I remember of this memorable campaign, it cannot be
expected that I should display the pen of the historian; if I did so,
I must of necessity draw from other sources than my own observation
and the narratives of my brother-soldiers: but to this I do not
pretend; what I _recollect to have witnessed_, or have been told by
eye-witnesses, is all I offer to my readers:--an individual on a
campaign, as a narrator of what occurred before him, ought not--could
not consistently, do more: this I will attempt, so far as I conceive
the matter may be interesting; I will describe my humble share in the
glories of the army, and note those things only which, in my progress
with it, appeared to me not unworthy of remark: I will do so with
truth; and if I omit occasionally the notice of some particulars of
interest, familiar to the memory of some who served with me, it can
only be from want of more acute recollection. I have no doubt forgotten
many a town, and wood, and valley, and blue mountain, which lay on my
way, and many a circumstance also; however, enough remains to afford my
mind a vivid picture of that eventful march,--to me, highly interesting
and delightful, notwithstanding the fatigues which frequently attended
it; and I trust that what I do remember of it will not be uninteresting
to my readers.
I will mention an incident which happened to me when I arrived at
Oporto; and the motive I have in touching on so trifling an occurrence
is, that an opinion as to the French influence in Portugal, even at
that promising time, may be in some measure drawn from it. I arrived at
Oporto about five o’clock in the evening, and received a billet upon a
respectable house for myself, my servant, and two horses. The master of
this house was a rich lawyer; and although I learnt that quarters were
very indifferent in the town, yet the appearance of the house inspired
me with the hope that I should be enabled to make a better report on
this subject, as far as regarded myself.
The outward gates of the house were open, and I walked up a wide
staircase: having knocked at a large door, I was admitted by a
cross-looking woman, who in answer to my question of whether the
gentleman of the house was at home, replied, with a shrug of the
shoulders, “_Nao esta in caza_” (not within). I explained the nature
of my visit, producing the paper which authorised it; and immediately
the countenance of the dame wore the most vinegar aspect: “_Nao esta
quartelia, Senhor, nada, nada, nada_” (no room, none, none.) This
I knew must be false, from the size of the house, as well as from
my knowledge of the disposition of many of the Portuguese to shift
off the trouble of accommodating English officers. However, I was
determined to act only through the authorities; for the Commander of
the forces was very scrupulous upon this point, and justly so; for many
officers during former campaigns had acted rather despotically in their
quarters, and occasioned reports of such a nature as to call forth
a general order upon the subject, the effects of which were sorely
felt by those officers whose conduct was peaceable and conciliating.
Consistent with the spirit of this order, I left the old Donna,
telling my servant he was to remain, and returned to the Portuguese
authorities, who gave me the billet. On describing my reception, one of
them burst out into exclamations of rage, declaring that the person on
whom I was billeted was a liar and a favourer of the French. “He had
room enough in his house for _four_ French officers,” said he; “and if
he does not find accommodation for you, Sir, in every way befitting a
British officer, I will send him a dozen of Portuguese soldiers.” He
then wrote a note to the lawyer, and requested me to take no excuse
from him, but to order my servant to carry my luggage at once into the
house. I pursued the directions given,--ordered my boy to unload and
place my panniers, &c. in the house, and proceeded up stairs myself.
The door was opened, and without ceremony I walked into the principal
room of the house, where I discovered the lawyer in a fever of anxiety.
He was a little smoke-dried man, of about fifty years of age, dressed
in a spotted _robe de chambre_, and powdered in the highest style of
professional ultraism. His fever increased to a paroxysm when he saw me
in the heart of the garrison, for he never expected such a surprise; he
reiterated the words of the old woman with a grin, (which he thought
was a smile)--an attempt at polite denial--a widening of the mouth into
a sort of imitation-smile, in which his little eyes took no part; in
them could be seen the splenetic rage which would have burnt me into
a cinder, if it had possessed the power. He declared that he could
not accommodate me, nor any other officer; and had I been weak enough
to parley with him civilly on the subject, his presumption would have
increased more rapidly than it did; but I coolly threw myself down upon
his splendid sofa, and desired him to read the note which I brought
from the magistrates. He read it, and after a pause and a protracted
shrug of the shoulders, muttered something of the great inconvenience
he should be put to by having an officer billeted on him; but that he
supposed he must put up with it; and begged that I would walk down to
a room which he had below. I followed him; and after a tedious hour’s
search for keys, he succeeded in opening an apartment, into which I
followed him. Here, he said, he would put a bed on the floor,--the
only bed he had; and that he would also send down two chairs and a
table; hinting, at the same time, that Lord Wellington’s orders were
that no other furniture was in any case to be supplied, except by the
voluntary act of those on whom officers were quartered. An adequate
idea of the apartment it is scarcely possible to give: it had been
a sort of lumber-room, I suppose, for some centuries back--covered
with cobwebs--damp, dirty, and dark--not an atom of any kind of
moveable;--on the ground floor, too! and, contrasted with the superior
accommodation given to officers by the Portuguese generally, it had the
effect of exciting my indignation against the little lawyer to such a
degree, that had it not been for the respect I bore for the orders of
Lord Wellington, I believe I should have punished the insolent old
rogue on the spot, by the application of my whip to his parchment skin.
I paused a little; then took the key out of the door; and, nodding
ironically to my _patrao_, I said, “_esta bon_”--“it will do very
well.” I then went out, and ordered my servant to lead in both the
horses:--there was scarcely a stable to be got in Oporto for love or
money; and the thought struck me, that I could not only provide myself
with a tolerable substitute for such accommodation, but punish the
little hater of the English as he deserved.
The horses were brought into the apartment forthwith, to the
astonishment, confusion, and intense mortification of the lawyer.
Neither my servant nor myself could refrain from laughter at the
picture. The little gentleman’s hands clasped in the fervency of his
raging astonishment; his frame trembling with passion,--the old dame
exclaiming loudly at the door, “Ai! Jesus, Maria, Joze!” and the
animals (as all horses will after a journey,) relieving themselves by
those actions, which in a parlour may seem out of place and highly
laughable, but in a stable “quite correct.” The scene can only be
imagined perfectly by those who saw it. The lawyer now lost all
patience, and gave way to the most violent and unbounded rage. He
called me “heretic Englishman,” and openly proclaimed his hatred of
Great Britain and love of France; he stamped, raved, and ejaculated;
but I coolly told him to walk out, or that I would lock him in with the
horses, as I could not remain longer in my _stable_. He obeyed with
a scowl and a curse; while I thanked him in the most _polite_ manner
for the accommodation his house had afforded me, and went back to the
magistrates, to whom I related the affair. Their enjoyment of the joke
was little less than mine; they advised me to keep the room as a stable
while I remained at Oporto (which I did), and gave me another billet
for myself, upon a house opposite to the lawyer’s, where I received the
most hospitable attention for the few days I remained in the town; and
had the pleasure of nodding at old _parchment_ every morning as he went
out of his house; which _civility_ he never thought proper to notice,
except by a frown, peculiar to his Jacobinical countenance.
As nearly as I can recollect, it was on the twenty-third of May, that
our column commenced its march from its cantonments. Illness, brought
on by overheating myself in an excursion of pleasure up the Douro,
prevented me from marching on the appointed day. By the desire of the
medical officer, I remained behind--having been bled but more than
one day I would not stay, and although still unwell, persisted in my
intention of moving, and mounted for the road.
The weather was very hot when I set out; and having been advised by
the surgeon not to fatigue myself, if possible, on the march, until I
had perfectly recovered, I pursued my route at one day’s march behind
the army, without attempting to gain on it; but had I been in perfect
health, I could not have overtaken it, for my baggage horse could not
have travelled more than about fifteen or twenty miles a day--the
average distance of each march of the army; and this is quite enough,
considering the wretched roads over which the animals had to go,
together with the great heat of the climate.