The Project Gutenberg EBook of Random Shots From a Rifleman, by John Kincaid This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Random Shots From a Rifleman Author: John Kincaid Release Date: February 19, 2014 [EBook #44965] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RANDOM SHOTS FROM A RIFLEMAN *** Produced by Brian Coe, Charlie Howard, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) ADVENTURES IN THE RIFLE BRIGADE IN THE P E N I N S U L A , F R A N C E, AND THE NETHERLANDS, From the Year 1809 to 1815; By CAPTAIN JOHN KINCAID, First Battalion. One vol. post 8vo. price 10s. 6d. boards. "To those who are unacquainted with John Kincaid of the Rifles,—and few, we trow, of the old Peninsula bands are in this ignorant predicament, and to those who know him, we equally recommend the perusal of his book: it is a fac simile of the man,—a perfect reflection of his image, veluti in speculo. A capital Soldier, a pithy and graphic narrator, and a fellow of infinite jest. Captain Kincaid has given us, in this modest volume, the impress of his qualities, the beau ideal of a thorough-going Soldier of Service, and the faithful and witty history of some six years' honest and triumphant fighting. "There is nothing extant in a Soldier's Journal, which, with so little pretension, paints with such truth and raciness the "domestic economy" of campaigning, and the downright business of handling the enemy. "But we cannot follow further;—recommending every one of our readers to pursue the Author himself to his crowning scene of Waterloo, where they will find him as quaint and original as at his debut. We assure them, it is not possible, by isolated extracts, to give a suitable impression of the spirit and originality which never flag from beginning to end of Captain Kincaid's volume; in every page of which he throws out flashes of native humour, a tithe of which would make the fortune of a Grub-street Bookmaker."—United Service Journal. "We do not recollect one, among the scores of personal narratives, where the reader will find more of the realities of a Soldier's Life, or of the horrors that mark it; all is told gaily, but not unfeelingly."—New Monthly Magazine, July. "His book has one fault, the rarest fault in books, it is too short."—Monthly Magazine, April. "His book is one of the most lively histories of Soldiers' Adventures which have yet appeared; their entire freedom from affectation will sufficiently recommend them to a numerous class of readers."—Athenæum. "Kincaid's Adventures in the Rifle Brigade is written with all the frankness and freedom from study which bespeaks the gallant soldier, one to whom the sword is more adapted than the pen, but who, as now cedunt arma togæ, has, in these 'piping times' of peace, determined to 'fight all his battles over again,' and he fights them in a style interesting and graphic. The remarks on the decisive termination of the Battle of Waterloo are striking and convincing; and to them and the whole book we refer our readers for much amusement and information."—The Age. "This is an excellent and amusing book; and although it neither gives, nor pretends to give, lessons in strategy, or a true history of the great operations of our armies, we hold it to be a very instructive work. Napier, it is true, continues to be our textbook in the art of war; but, even in his work, there is something awanting, something which a due attention to historical etiquette prevents his conveying to us. He shows most satisfactorily the talents of our generals, and the morale of our army; but there is an insight into its composition which he cannot give us, and which, indeed, nothing can give but a wide personal acquaintance with military men, and lots of volumes like the present."—Edinburgh Literary Journal. "Il est rare que les aventures arrivées à un seul personnage et racontées par lui intéressent le public au point de faire obtenir à ses mémoires un véritable succès; mais il en est autrement quand l'auteur a su habilement accompagner son histoire du récit de faits et d'événemens qui ont déjá fixé l'attention publique. L'ouvrage du Capitaine Kincaid est intéressant sous ces deux points de vue et sera favorablement accueilli. En même tems qu'on suit avec plaisir la marche de ses aventures, on recueille une foule de détails ignorés sur les campagnes de 1809 à 1815."—Furet de Londres. R A N D O M S H O T S FROM A RIFLEMAN. BY J. KINCAID, Late Captain in, and Author of "Adventures in the Rifle Brigade." SECOND EDITION. LO N DO N : T. AND W. BOONE, 29, NEW BOND STREET. M DCCC XLVII. TO MAJOR-GENERAL LORD FITZROY SOMERSET, K.C.B. &c. &c. &c. THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY HIS VERY OBEDIENT AND VERY OBLIGED HUMBLE SERVANT, J. KINCAID. NOTICE. When I sent my volume of "Adventures in the Rifle Brigade" into the world, some one of its many kind and indulgent critics was imprudent enough to say that "it had one fault, the rarest fault in books—it was too short;" and while I have therefore endeavoured to acquit myself of such an unlooked-for charge by sending this additional one, I need only observe that if it also fails to satisfy, they may have "yet another." Like its predecessor, this volume is drawn solely from memory, and of course open to error; but of this my readers may feel assured, that it is free from romance; for even in the few soldiers' yarns which I have thought fit to introduce, the leading features are facts. Lastly, in making my second editorial bow to the public, let me assure them that it is with no greater literary pretensions. I sent forth my first volume contrary to my own judgement; but rough and unpolished as it was, it pleased a numerous class of readers, and I therefore trust to be forgiven for marching past again to the same tune, in the hope that my reviewing generals may make the same favourable report of me in their orderly books. ERRATUM. Page 11, line 2, for remarkable, read remarkably. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE Family Pictures, with select Views of the Estate, fenced with distant Prospects 1 CHAP. II. "No man can tether time or tide, The hour approaches Tam maun ride." And he takes one side step and two front ones on the road to glory 11 CHAP. III. An old one takes to his heels, leaving a young one in arms.—The dessert does not always follow the last coarse of—a goose.—Goes to the war, and ends in love 30 CHAP. IV. Shewing how generals may descend upon particulars with a cat-o'-nine tails. Some extra Tales added, Historical, Comical, and Warlike all 44 CHAP. V. The paying of a French compliment, which will be repaid in a future chapter. A fierce attack upon hairs. A niece compliment, and lessons gratis to untaught sword-bearers 79 vii viii ix x CHAP. VI. Reaping a Horse with a halter. Reaping golden Opinions out of a Dung-Hill, and reaping a good Story or two out of the next Room. A Dog-Hunt and Sheep's Heads prepared at the Expense of a Dollar each, and a Scotchman's Nose 94 CHAP. VII. "Blood and destruction shall be so in use, And dreadful objects so familiar, That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quartered with the hands of war." 130 CHAP. VII. The persecution of the guardian of two angels. A Caçadore and his mounted followers. A chief of hussars in his trousers. A chief of rifles in his glory, and a sub of ditto with two screws in the neck 155 CHAP. VIII. National Characters. Adventures of a pair of leather Breeches. Ditto of a pound of Beef. Shewing what the French General did not do, and a Prayer which he did not pray; with a few random Shots. 176 CHAP. IX. A bishop's gathering.—Volunteers for a soldier's love, with a portrait of the lover.—Burning a bivouac. Old invented thrashing machines and baking concerns.—A flying Padre taking a shot flying 219 CHAP. X. Shewing how a volunteer may not be what Doctor Johnson made him.—A mayor's nest.— Cupping.—The Author's reasons for punishing the world with a book.—And some volunteers of the right sort 236 CHAP. XI. Very short, with a few anecdotes still shorter; but the principal actors thought the scene long enough 265 CHAP. XII. Shewing rough visitors receiving a rough reception. Some living and moving specimens thereof. Tailors not such fractions of humanity as is generally believed. Gentle visitors receiving a gentle reception, which ends by shewing that two shakes joined together sound more melodiously on the heart-strings than two hands which shake of their own accord 277 CHAP. XIII. xi xii Specimens of target-practice, in which markers may become marked men.—A grave anecdote, shewing "how some men have honours thrust upon them." A line drawn between man and beast.—Lines drawn between regiments, and shewing how credit may not be gained by losing what they are made of.—Aristocratic.—Dedicatic.—Dissertation on advanced guards, and desertion of knapsacks, shewing that "the greater haste the worse speed" 299 R AN D O M S H O T S FROM A RIFLEMAN. CHAPTER I. Family Pictures, with select Views of the Estate, fenced with distant Prospects. Every book has a beginning, and the beginning of every book is the undoubted spot on which the historian is bound to parade his hero. The novelist may therefore continue to envelope his man in a fog as long as he likes, but for myself I shall at once unfold to the world that I am my own hero; and though that same world hold my countrymen to be rich in wants, with the article of modesty among them, yet do I hope to maintain the character I have assumed, with as much propriety as can reasonably be expected of one labouring under such a national infirmity, for "I am a native of that land, which Some poets' lips and painters' hands" have pictured barren and treeless. But to shew that these are mere fancy sketches, I need only mention that as long as I remember anything, there grew a bonny brier and sundry gooseberry bushes in our kail-yard, and it was surrounded by a stately row of pines, rearing their long spinster waists and umbrella heads over the cabbages, as carefully as a hen does her wings over her brood of chickens, so that neither the sun nor moon, and but a very few favoured stars had the slightest chance of getting a peep therein, nor had anything therein a chance of getting a peep out, unless in the cabbages returning the sheep's eyes of their star-gazers; for, while the front was protected by a long range of house and offices, with no ingress or egress but through the hall-door, the same duty was performed on the other three sides by a thick quick-set hedge which was impervious to all but the sparrows, so that the wondrous wise man of Islington might there have scratched his eyes out and in again a dozen times without being much the wiser. My father was the laird and farmed the small property I speak of, in the lowlands of Stirlingshire, but he was unfortunately cut off in early life, and long before his young family were capable of appreciating the extent of their loss, and I may add, to the universal regret of the community to which he belonged; and in no country have I met, in the same walks of life, a body of men to equal in intelligence, prudence, and respectability, the small lowland Scotch laird. Marrying and dying are ceremonies which almost every one has to go through at some period of his life, and from being so common, one would expect that they might cease to be uncommon; but people, nevertheless, still continue to look upon them as important events in their individual histories. And while, with the class I speak of, the joys of the one and the grief at the other was as sensibly and unaffectedly shewn as amongst any, yet with them the loss of the head of the house produces no very material change in the family arrangements; for while in some places the proprietary of a sheep confers a sort of patent of gentility upon the whole flock, leaving as a bequest a scramble for supremacy, yet the lowland laird is another manner of man; one in fact who is not afraid to reckon his chickens before they are hatched, and who suffers no son of his to be born out of his proper place. The eldest therefore steps into his father's shoes as naturally as his father steps out of them. The second is destined to be a gentleman, that is, he receives a superior education, and as soon as he is deemed qualified, he is started off with a tolerable outfit and some ha'pence in his pocket to fulfil his destiny in one of the armed or learned professions, while the junior members of the family are put in such other way of shifting for themselves as taste and prudence may point out. And having thus, gentle reader, expounded as much of my family history as it behoveth thee to know, it only remains for me, with all becoming modesty, to introduce myself to you as, by birthright, the gentleman of the family, and without further ceremony to take you by the hand and conduct you along the path which I found chalked out for myself. In my native country, as elsewhere, Dame Fortune is to be seen cutting her usual capers, and often sends a man starving for a life- 1 2 3 4 5 time as a parson looking for a pulpit, a doctor dining on his own pills, or as a lawyer who has nothing to insert in his last earthly testament, who would otherwise have flourished on the top of a hay-stack, or as a cooper round a tar-barrel. How far she was indulgent in my case is a matter of moonshine. Suffice it that I commenced the usual process at the usual place, the parish school, under that most active of all teachers—Whipping, "That's Virtue's governess, Tutress of arts and sciences; That mends the gross mistakes of nature, And puts new life into dull matter." And from the first letter in the alphabet I was successively flogged up through a tolerable quantity of English, some ten or a dozen books of Latin, into three or four of French, and there is no saying whether the cat-o'-nine tails, wielded by such a masterly hand, might not eventually have stirred me up as high as the woolsack, had not one of those tides in the affairs of school-boys brought a Leith merchant to a worthy old uncle of mine (who was one of my guardians) in search of a quill-driver, and turned the current of my thoughts into another channel. To be or not to be, that was the question; whether 'twere better to abide more stings and scourges from the outrageous cat, or to take the offer which was made, and end them. It may readily be believed that I felt a suitable horror at the sight of the leathern instrument which had been so long and so ably administered for my edification, nor had I much greater affection for the learned professions as they loomed in perspective, for I feared the minister, hated the doctor, and had no respect for the lawyer, and in short it required but little persuasion to induce me to bind my prospects for the ensuing three years to the desk of a counting-house. I therefore took leave of my indefatigable preceptor, not forgetting to insert on the tablets of my memory, a promissory note to repay him stripe for stripe with legal interest, as soon as I should find myself qualified to perform the operation; but I need not add that the note (as all such notes usually are) was duly dishonoured; for, when I became capable of appreciating his virtues, I found him a worthy excellent man, and one who meant for the best; but I have lived to see that the schoolmaster of that day was all abroad. The reminiscences of my three years' mercantile life leave me nothing worth recording, except that it was then I first caught a glimpse of my natal star. I had left school as a school-boy, unconscious of a feeling beyond the passing moment. But the period at length arrived when Buonaparte's threatened invasion fired every loyal pair of shoulders with a scarlet coat. Mine were yet too slender to fill up a gap in the ranks, and my arm too weak to wield any thing more formidable than a drum-stick, but in devotion to the cause I would not have yielded to Don Quixote himself. The pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war had in fact set my soul in an unquenchable blaze, and I could think of nothing else. In reckoning up a column of pounds, shillings, and pence, I counted them but as so many soldiers, the rumbling of empty puncheons in the wine cellar sounded in my ears as the thunder of artillery, and the croaking voice of a weasand old watchman at "half-past twelve o'clock," as the hoarse challenge of the sentry from the ramparts. My prospect of succeeding to the object on which I had placed my affections were at the time but slender, but having somewhere read that if one did but set his eye on any thing in reason, and pursued it steadily, he would finally attain it, I resolved to adhere to such an animating maxim, and fixing my heart on a captain's commission, I pursued it steadily, and for the encouragement of youth in all times to come, I am proud to record that I finally did attain it. I returned to the country on the expiration of my apprenticeship, which (considering the object I had in view) happened at a most auspicious moment; for the ensign of our parochial company of local militia had just received a commission in the line, and I was fortunate enough to step into his vacated commission as well as into his clothing and appointments. I had by that time grown into a tall ramrod of a fellow, as fat as a whipping-post—my predecessor had been a head and shoulders shorter, so that in marching into his trousers I was obliged to put my legs so far through them that it required the eye of a connoisseur to distinguish whether they were not intended as a pair of breeches. The other end of my arms, too, were exposed to equal animadversion, protruding through the coat-sleeves to an extent which would have required a pair of gauntlets of the horse-guards blue to fill up the vacancy. Nevertheless, no peacock ever strutted more proudly in his plumage than I did in mine—and when I found myself on a Sunday in the front seat of the gallery of our parish church, exposed to the admiration of a congregation of milk-maids, my delight was without alloy. CHAP. II. "No man can tether time or tide, The hour approaches Tam maun ride." And he takes one side step and two front ones on the road to glory. It was a very fine thing, no doubt, to be an ensign in the local militia, and a remarkably pretty thing to be the admiration of all the milk- 6 7 8 9 10 11 maids of a parish, but while time was jogging, I found myself standing with nothing but the precarious footing of those pleasures to stand upon, and it therefore behoved me to think of sinking the ornamental for the sake of the useful; and a neighbouring worthy, who was an importer and vender of foreign timber, happening at this time to make a proposition to unite our fortunes, and that I should take the charge of a branch establishment in the city of Glasgow, it was arranged accordingly, and my next position therefore was behind my own desk in that Wapping of Glasgow, called the Gorbals. Mars, however, was still in the ascendant, for my first transaction in the way of business was to get myself appointed to a lieutenancy in one of the volunteer regiments, and, as far as I remember, I think that all my other transactions while I remained there redounded more to my credit as a soldier than as a citizen, and when, at the end of the year, the offer of an ensigncy in the militia enabled me to ascend a step higher on the ladder of my ambition, leaving my partner to sell or burn his sticks (whichever he might find the most profitable), I cut mine, and joined that finest of all militia regiments, the North York, when I began to hold up my head and to fancy myself something like a soldier in reality. Our movements during the short period that I remained with them, were confined to casual changes among the different stations on the coasts of Kent and Sussex, where I got gradually initiated into all the mysteries of home service,—learnt to make love to the smugglers' very pretty daughters, and became a dead hand at wrenching the knocker from a door. The idleness and the mischievous propensities of the officers of that district (of the line as well as the militia) were proverbial at the period I speak of; but, while as usual the report greatly exceeded the reality, there was this to be said in their behalf, that they were almost entirely excluded from respectable society; owing partly, perhaps, to their not being quite so select as at the present time, (those heroes who had a choice of pleasures preferring Almack's to Napoleon's balls,) but chiefly to the numbers of the troops with which those districts were inundated during the war, and which put it out of the power of individual residents to notice such a succession of military interlopers, unless they happened to be especially recommended to them; so that, as the Irishman expresses it—he was a lucky cove indeed who in those days succeeded in getting his legs under a gentleman's mahogany. It is not therefore much to be wondered at, if a parcel of wild young fellows thrown on their own resources, when that warlike age required a larking spirit to be encouraged rather than repressed amongst them,—I say, it is not to be wondered at if they did occasionally amuse themselves with a class of persons which, under other circumstances, they would have avoided, and if the consequences were sometimes what they had better not have been—but the accounts between the man and woman of that day having been long since closed, it is not for me to re-open them, yet I remember that even that manner of life was not without its charms. The only variety in my year's militia life was an encampment on the lines at Chatham, where we did duty on board the hulks, in the Medway. My post was for the greater period with a guard on board the old Irresistible, which was laden with about eight hundred heavy Danes who had been found guilty of defending their property against their invaders, and I can answer for it that they were made as miserable as any body of men detected in such a heinous crime had a right to be, for of all diabolical constructions in the shape of prisons the hulks claim by right a pre-eminence. However, we were then acting under the broad acknowledged principle, that those who are not for, are against us, and upon that same principle, the worthy Danes with their ships were respectfully invited to repose themselves for a while within our hospitable harbours. On the breaking up of our encampment at Chatham we marched to Deal, where one of the periodical volunteerings from the militia, (to fill up the ranks of the line,) took place, and I need not add that I greedily snatched at the opportunity it offered to place myself in the position for which I had so long sighed. On those occasions any subaltern who could persuade a given number of men to follow him, received a commission in whatever regiment of the line he wished, provided there was a vacancy for himself and followers. I therefore chose that which had long been the object of my secret adoration, as well for its dress as the nature of its services and its achievements, the old ninety-fifth, now the Rifle Brigade.—"Hurrah for the first in the field and the last out of it, the bloody fighting ninety-fifth," was the cry of my followers while beating up for more recruits—and as glory was their object, a fighting and a bloody corps the gallant fellows found it, for out of the many who followed Captain Strode and me to it, there were but two serjeants and myself, after the sixth campaign, alive to tell the tale. I cannot part from the good old North York without a parting tribute to their remembrance, for as a militia regiment they were not to be surpassed.—Their officers were officers as well as gentlemen, and there were few among them who would not have filled the same rank in the line with credit to themselves and to the service, and several wanted but the opportunity to turn up trumps of the first order. I no sooner found myself gazetted than I took a run up to London to get rid of my loose cash, which being very speedily accomplished, I joined the regiment at Hythe barracks. They had just returned from sharing in the glories and disasters of Sir John Moore's retreat, and were busily employed in organizing again for active service. I have never seen a regiment of more gallant bearing than the first battalion there shewed itself, from their brilliant chief, (the late Sir Sidney Beckwith), downwards; they were all that a soldier could love to look on; and, splendid as was their appearance, it was the least admirable part about them, for the beauty of their system of discipline consisted in their doing every thing that was necessary, and nothing that was not, so that every man's duty was a pleasure to him, and the esprit de corps was unrivalled. There was an abundance of Johny Newcome's, like myself, tumbling in hourly, for it was then such a favourite corps with the militia men, that they received a thousand men over their complement within the first three days of the volunteering, (and before a stop could be put to it,) which compelled the horse-guards to give an additional battalion to the corps. On my first arrival my whole soul was so absorbed in the interest excited by the service-officers that, for a time, I could attend to nothing else—I could have worshipped the different relics that adorned their barrack-rooms—the pistol or the dagger of some gaunt Spanish robber—a string of beads from the Virgin Mary of some village chapel—or the brazen helmet of some French dragoon, taken from his head after it had parted company with his shoulders, and with what a greedy ear did I swallow the stories of their hair-breadth 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 'scapes and imminent perils, and long for the time when I should be able to make such relics and such tales mine own. Fate has since been propitious, and enabled me to spin as long a yarn as most folks, but as some of their original stories still dwell with much interest on my memory, I shall quote one or two of them, in the hope that they may not prove less so to my readers, for I am not aware that they have yet been published. ANECDOTE THE FIRST. Of all the vicissitudes of the late disastrous campaign, I found that nothing dwelt so interestingly on the remembrance of our officers as their affair at Calcabellos—partly because it was chiefly a regimental fight, and partly because they were taken at a disadvantage, and acquitted themselves becomingly. The regiment was formed in front of Calcabellos covering the rear of the infantry, and on the first appearance of the enemy they had been ordered to withdraw behind the town. Three parts of them had already passed the bridge, and the remainder were upon it, or in the act of filing through the street with the careless confidence which might be expected from their knowledge that the British cavalry still stood between them and the enemy; but in an instant our own cavalry, without the slightest notice, galloped through and over them, and the same instant saw a French sabre flourishing over the head of every man who remained beyond the bridge—many were cut down in the streets, and a great portion of the rear company were taken prisoners. The remainder of the regiment, seeing the unexpected attack, quickly drew off among the vineyards to the right and left of the road, where they coolly awaited the approaching assault. The dismounted voltigeurs first swarmed over the river, assailing the riflemen on all sides, but they were met by a galling fire, which effectually stopped them. General Colbert next advanced to dislodge them, and passing the river at the head of his dragoons, he charged furiously up the road; but, when within a few yards of our men, he was received with such a deadly fire, that scarcely a Frenchman remained in the saddle, and the general himself was among the slain. The voltigeurs persevered in their unsuccessful endeavours to force the post, and a furious fight continued to be waged, until darkness put an end to it, both sides having suffered severely. Although the principal combat had ceased with the day-light, the riflemen found that the troubles and the fatigues of twenty-four hours were yet in their infancy, for they had to remain in the position until ten at night, to give the rest of the army time to fall back, during which they had to sustain several fierce assaults, which the enemy made, with the view of ascertaining whether our army were on the move; but in every attempt they were gallantly repulsed, and remained in ignorance on the subject until day-light next morning. Our people had, in the meantime, been on the move the greater part of the night, and those only who have done a mile or two of vineyard walking in the dark, can form an adequate notion of their twenty-four hours work. General Colbert (the enemy's hero of the day) was, by all accounts, (if I may be permitted the expression,) splendid as a man, and not less so as a soldier. From the commencement of the retreat of our army he had led the advance, and been conspicuous for his daring: his gallant bearing had, in fact, excited the admiration of his enemies; but on this day, the last of his brilliant earthly career, he was mounted on a white charger, and had been a prominent figure in the attack of our men in the street the instant before, and it is not, therefore, to be wondered at if the admiration for the soldier was for a space drowned in the feeling for the fallen comrades which his bravery had consigned to death; a rifleman, therefore, of the name of Plunket, exclaiming, "thou too shalt surely die!" took up an advanced position, for the purpose of singling him out, and by his hand he no doubt fell. Plunket was not less daring in his humble capacity than the great man he had just brought to the dust. He was a bold, active, athletic Irishman, and a deadly shot; but the curse of his country was upon him, and I believe he was finally discharged, without receiving such a recompense as his merits in the field would otherwise have secured to him. ANECDOTE THE SECOND. In one of the actions in which our regiment was engaged, in covering the retreat to Corunna, a superior body of the enemy burst upon the post of a young officer of the name of Uniacke, compelling him to give way in disorder, and in the short scramble which followed, he very narrowly escaped being caught by the French officer who had led the advance,—a short stout fellow, with a cocked hat, and a pair of huge jack-boots. Uniacke was one of the most active men in the army, and being speedily joined by his supporting body, which turned the tables upon his adversary, he resolved to give his friend a sweat in return for the one he had got, and started after him, with little doubt, from his appearance and equipment, that he would have him by the neck before he had got many yards further; but, to his no small mortification, the stout gentleman plied his seven-league boots so cleverly that Uniacke was unable to gain an inch upon him. ANECDOTE THE THIRD. At Astorga, a ludicrous alarm was occasioned by the frolic of an officer; though it might have led to more serious results. The regiment was quartered in a convent, and the officers and the friars were promiscuously bundled for the night on mattresses laid in one of the galleries; when, about midnight, Captain —— awaking, and seeing the back of one of the Padres looking him full in the face, from under the bed-clothes, as if inviting the slap of a fist, he, acting on the impulse of the moment, jumped up, and with a hand as broad as a coal-shovel, and quite as hard, made it descend on the bottom of the astounded sleeper with the force of a paviour, and then 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 stole back to his couch. The Padre roared a hundred murders, and murder was roared by a hundred Padres, while the other officers, starting up in astonishment, drew their swords and began grappling with whoever happened to be near them. The uproar, fortunately, brought some of the attendants with lights before any mischief happened, when the cause of the disturbance was traced, to the no small amusement of every one. The offender tried hard to convince the afflicted father that he had been under the influence of a dream; but the four fingers and the thumb remained too legibly written on the offended spot to permit him to swallow it. ANECDOTE THE FOURTH. When the straggling and the disorders of the army on the retreat to Corunna became so serious as to demand an example, Sir Edward Paget, who commanded the reserve, caused two of the plunderers to be tried by a court-martial, and they were sentenced to suffer death. The troops were ordered to parade in front of the town, to witness the execution, but, while in the act of assembling, a dragoon came galloping in from the front to inform Sir Edward by desire of his brother (Lord Paget), that the enemy were on the move, and that it was time for the infantry to retire. Sir Edward, however, took no notice of the message. The troops assembled, and the square was formed, when a second dragoon arrived, to say that the enemy were advancing so rapidly that if Sir Edward did not immediately retire, his lordship could not be answerable for the consequences. Sir Edward, with his usual coolness and determination, said he cared not, for he had a duty to perform, and were the enemy firing into the square, that he would persevere with it. Dragoon after dragoon, in rapid succession, galloped in with a repetition of the message; still the preparations went on, and by the time they were completed, (and it wanted but the word of command to launch the culprits into eternity,) the clang of the carabines of the retreating dragoons was heard all around. In the breast of Sir Edward, it is probable, that the door of mercy never had been closed, and that he had only waited until the last possible moment to make it the more impressive; and impressive truly it must have been; nor is it easy to imagine such a moment; for, independently of the solemn and desolate feeling with which one at all times witnesses the execution of a comrade, let his offence be what it may, they had an additional intensity on this occasion, on the score of their own safety; for, brief as the span seemed to be that was allotted to the culprits, the clang of the carabine, and the whistling ball, told that it was possible to be even still more brief on the parts of many of the spectators. Sir Edward, however, now addressed the troops, with a degree of coolness which would argue that danger and he had been long familiar. He pointed out the enormity of the offence of which the culprits had been guilty, that they deserved not to be saved, and that though the enemy were now upon them, and might lay half their number dead while witnessing the execution, that only one thing would save them, and that was, "would the troops now present pledge themselves that this should be the last instance of insubordination that would occur in the course of the retreat?" A simultaneous "Yes," burst from the lips of the assembled thousands, and the next instant saw the necessary measures taken to check the advancing foe, while the remainder resumed their retreat, lightened of a load of care, which a few minutes before had been almost intolerable. The conduct of these regiments, as compared with others, was very exemplary during the retreat, although their duty, in protecting the stragglers of the army till the last possible moment, was of the most harassing kind. They had no means of punishing those to whom they were indebted for their extra trouble, but by depriving them of their ill-gotten gains, so that whenever a fellow came in with a bag of flour under his arm, (which was no uncommon occurrence,) they made it a rule to empty the bag over his head, to make him a marked man. Napier says of them, that "for twelve days these hardy soldiers covered the retreat, during which time they had traversed eighty miles of road in two marches, passed several nights under arms in the snow of the mountains, were seven times engaged with the enemy, and now assembled at the outposts (before Corunna), having fewer men missing from the ranks, including those who had fallen in battle, than any other division in the army."A A The foregoing story, I find, has just made its appearance in a volume published by Lieutenant- Colonel Cadell; but as this narrative was publicly noticed, as being in preparation, prior to the publication of his, I have not thought it necessary to expunge it. I shall now, with the reader's permission, resume the thread of my narrative. CHAP. III. An old one takes to his heels, leaving a young one in arms.—The dessert does not always follow the last course of—a goose.—Goes to the war, and ends in love. In those days, the life of a soldier was a stirring and an active one. I had not joined the regiment above a fortnight when the 1st battalion received orders for immediate active service, and General Graham was to make his appearance on the morrow, to inspect them prior to 26 27 28 29 30 their embarkation. Every man destined for service was to appear in the ranks, and as my turn had not yet come, I was ordered, the previous evening, to commence my career as a rifleman, in charge of the guard; and a most unhappy debut I made of it, and one that argued but little in behalf of my chances of future fame in the profession. My guard was composed of the Lord knows who, for, excepting on the back of the sergeant, I remember that there was not a rag of uniform amongst them. I was too anxious to forget all about them to think of informing myself afterwards; but, from what I have since seen, I am satisfied that they must either have been a recent importation from "the first gem of the sea," or they had been furnished for the occasion by the governor of Newgate;—however, be that as it may, I had some ten or a dozen prisoners handed over to me; and as my eye was not sufficiently practised to distinguish, in such a group, which was the soldier and which the prisoner, I very discreetly left the whole affair to the sergeant, who seemed to be a man of nous. But while I was dozing on the guard-bed, about midnight, I was startled by a scramble in the soldier's room, and the cry of "guard, turn out;" and, on running out to ascertain the cause, the sergeant told me that the light in the guard-house had been purposely upset by some one, and, suspecting that a trick was intended, he had turned out the guard; and truly his suspicions were well-grounded, although he took an erroneous method of counteracting it; for, the sentry over the door, not being a much shrewder fellow than myself in distinguishing characters in the dark, in suffering the guard to turn out, had allowed some of the prisoners to turn out too, and, amongst the rest, one who had been reserved for an especial example of some sort or other, and whose absence was likely to make a noise in the neighbourhood. This was certainly information enough to furnish me with food for reflection for the remainder of the night, and, as if to enhance its agreeable nature, the sergeant-major paid me a visit at daylight in the morning, and informed me that such things did sometimes happen; —he enumerated several cases of the kind in different regiments, and left me with the consolatory piece of information that the officer of the guard had on each occasion been allowed to retire without a court-martial!!! My readers, I am sure, will rejoice with me that in this, as in other cases, there is no rule without an exception, for otherwise they would never have had the pleasure of reading a book of mine. How I had the good fortune to be excepted on that occasion I never found out; probably, in the hurry and bustle of preparation it was overlooked,—or, probably, because they hoped better things of me thereafter,—but my commanding officer never noticed it, and his kindness in so doing put me more on the alert for the future than if he had written a volume of censure. Among the other novelties of the aforesaid guard-house on that memorable night, I got acquainted with a very worthy goose, whose services in the Rifle Brigade well merit a chapter in its history. If any one imagines that a goose is a goose he is very much mistaken: and I am happy in having the power of undeceiving him, for I am about to show that my (or rather our regimental) goose was shrewd, active, and intelligent, it was a faithful public servant, a social companion, and an attached friend, (I wish that every biped could say but half so much). Its death, or its manner of departure from this world, is still clouded in mystery; but while my book lives, the goose's memory shall not die. It had attached itself to the guard-house several years prior to my appearance there, and all its doings had been as steady as a sentry-box: its post was with the sentry over the guard; in fine weather it accompanied him in his walk, and in bad, it stood alongside of him in his box. It marched with the officer of the guard in all his visiting rounds, and it was the first on all occasions to give notice of the approach of any one in authority, keeping a particularly sharp look-out for the captain and field-officer of the day, whether by day or night. The guard might sleep, the sentry might sleep, but the goose was ever wide awake. It never considered itself relieved from duty, except during the breakfast and dinner-hours, when it invariably stepped into the guard-house, and partook of the soldiers' cheer, for they were so devotedly attached to it that it was at all times bountifully supplied, and it was not a little amusing, on those occasions, to see how the fellow cackled whenever the soldiers laughed, as if it understood and enjoyed the joke as much as they did. I did not see Moore's Almanack for 1812, and, therefore, know not whether he predicted that Michaelmas would be fatal to many of the tribe that year; but I never saw a comrade more universally lamented than the poor goose was when the news of its mysterious disappearance reached us in Spain. Our comrades at home, as a last proof of their affection, very magnanimously offered a reward of ten pounds for the recovery of the body, dead or alive; but whether it filled a respectable position in a banquet of that year, or still lives to bother the decayed tooth of some elderly maiden, at Michaelmas next, remains to be solved. On the 24th of March, 1809, our first battalion received orders to march at midnight for Dover, there to be united with the 43d and 52d regiments, as a light brigade, under Major-General Robert Crawfurd, and to embark next morning to join the army which was then assembling in the Peninsula. In marching for embarkation in those stirring times, the feeling of the troops partook more of the nature of a ship's crew about to sail on a roving commission, than a land-crab expedition which was likely to prove eternal; for although one did occasionally see some blubber-headed fellow mourning over his severed affections for a day or two, yet a thorough-going one just gave a kiss to his wife, if he had one, and two to his sweetheart, if he had not, and away he went with a song in his mouth. I now joined the 2d battalion, where we were not permitted to rest long on our oars, for, within a month, we were called upon to join the expedition with which "The Great Earl of Chatham, and a hundred thousand men, Sailed over to Holland, and then sailed back again." As the military operations of that expedition do not entitle them to a place in such an important history as mine is, I shall pass them over, simply remarking that some of our companies fired a few professional shots, and some of our people got professionally shot, while a great many more visited Death by the doctor's road, and almost all who visited him not, got uncommonly well shaken. South Beeveland ultimately became our head-quarters. It is a fine island, and very fertile, yielding about forty bushels of frogs an acre, and tadpoles enough to fence it with. We were there under the command of General W. Stewart, whose active mind, continually in 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 search of improvement, led him to try (in imitation of some foreign customs) to saddle the backs of the officers with knapsacks, by way of adding to their comfort; for he proved to demonstration that if an officer had a clean shirt in his knapsack on his back, that he might have it to put on at the end of his day's march; whereas, if he had it not on his own back, it might be left too far back to be of use to him when wanted. This was a fact not to be disputed, but so wedded were we to ancient prejudices that we remained convinced that the shirt actually in wear, with all its additions at the end of an extra day or two, must still weigh less than the knapsack with a shirt in it; and upon those grounds we made a successful kick, and threw them off, not, however, until an experimental field-day had been ordered to establish them. The order required that each officer should parade in a knapsack, or something answering the same purpose, and it was amusing enough to see the expedients resorted to, to evade, without committing a direct breach of it. I remember that my apology for one on that occasion was slinging an empty black oil-skin haversack knapsack-ways, which looked so much like a newly-lanced blister on my back that it made both the vraws and the frogs stare. The attempt was never repeated. What a singular change did a short residence in that pestiferous place work in the appearance of our army! It was with our regiment as with others; one month saw us embark a thousand men at Deal, in the highest health and spirits, and the next month saw us land, at the same place, with about seven hundred men, carrying to hospital, or staggering under disease. I cannot shake off that celebrated Walcheren fever without mentioning what may or may not be a peculiarity in it;—that a brother- officer and I experienced a return of it within a day of each other, after a lapse of five years, and again, within a week, after the lapse of the following three years. As my heart had embarked for the Peninsula with the 1st battalion, although my body (for the reasons given) remained behind for a year, I shall, with the reader's permission, follow the first, as being in the more interesting position of the two; and although, under these circumstances, I am not permitted to speak in the first person singular until the two shall be again united, yet whatever I do speak of I have heard so often and so well authenticated, that I am enabled to give it with the same confidence as if I had been an eye-witness. "A LAY OF LOVE FOR LADY BRIGHT." Lisbon was doubtless as rich in abominations now as it was a year after, without any other redeeming virtue, which is a very ugly commencement to a tale of love; but having landed my reader a second time at the same place, I am anxious to relieve him from the fear of being treated to a second edition of the same story, and to assure him that my head-piece has been some time charged with fresh ammunition and I mean to discharge it now, to prevent its getting rusty. I intend to fight those battles only that I never fought before, galloping over the ground lightly, and merely halting to give a little of my conversation, such as it is, whenever I have anything new to tell; and as I have no idea of enduring the fatigues of the march to Talavera, nor the pleasures of fattening on the dinners of chopped straw which followed it, I shall leave my regiment to its fate until its return to the north of Portugal, and take advantage of the repose it affords to make my editorial bow with all due deference to my fair and lovely readers, to express my joy that I have been once more enabled to put myself in communion with them, and to assure them of my continued unbounded love and admiration, for I feel and have ever felt that the man who gave frailty the name of woman was a blockhead, and must have been smarting under some unsuccessful bit of the tender, for I have met her in the bower and in the battle, and have ever found her alike admirable in both! That old fool Shakspeare, too, having only a man's courage to meet a sprite with! Had he but told Macbeth to dare as woman dared, he would have seen the ghost of Banquo vanish into the witches' kettle in the twinkling of a wheelbarrow; for although I have never seen a woman kick the bucket, I have certainly seen her kick every thing else, and in fact there is nothing in the heroics that I have not seen her do. See her again when she descends into herself, and it is very odd if I have not seen her there too! for no man has ever been so often or so deep in love as I have—my poor heart has been lacerated, torn, and finally scorched until it is withered up like a roasted potato with scarcely the size of a kiss left. How it was that I did not find myself dangling at a door-post by the end of a silk handkerchief some odd morning is to me astonishing, but here I am, living and loving still as fondly as ever. Prudence at this moment whispers that I have said enough for the present, for if I go on making love so fiercely thus early in the day, I shall be forced to marry the whole sex and bring my book to a premature co...