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Title: Wellington's Men
      Some Soldier Autobiographies

Author: William Henry Fitchett

Release Date: July 6, 2020 [eBook #62571]
[Most recently updated: April 16, 2021]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

Produced by: Brian Coe, Graeme Mackreth and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WELLINGTON'S MEN ***




_Bell's Indian and Colonial Library_


WELLINGTON'S MEN




_UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME_

BY

W.H. FITCHETT, B.A., LL.D.

In Paper Covers or Cloth


DEEDS THAT WON THE EMPIRE.
Historic Battle Scenes. With 16 Portraits
and 11 Plans.

FIGHTS FOR THE FLAG. With 16
Portraits and 13 Plans.

HOW ENGLAND SAVED EUROPE.
The Story of the Great War, 1793-1815.
Four Volumes. With Portraits, Facsimiles,
and Plans.




WELLINGTON'S MEN

SOME SOLDIER
AUTOBIOGRAPHIES

_Kincaid's "Adventures in the Rifle Brigade";
"Rifleman Harris"; Anton's "Military
Life"; Mercer's "Waterloo"_


EDITED BY

W.H. FITCHETT, B.A., LL.D.

AUTHOR OF
"DEEDS THAT WON THE EMPIRE," "FIGHTS FOR THE FLAG,"
"HOW ENGLAND SAVED EUROPE," ETC.

[Illustration]


LONDON
GEORGE BELL & SONS
AND BOMBAY
1900




_This Edition is issued for circulation in India and the Colonies
only._




CONTENTS


                                                             PAGE

  The Soldier in Literature                                    1

  I. From Torres Vedras to Waterloo--                         23

  I. A Young Soldier                                          28

  II. Retreats and Pursuits                                   41

  III. Some Famous Battles                                    62

  IV. The Imminent Deadly Breach                              86

  V. In the Pyrenees                                         105

  VI. Quatre Bras                                            116

  VII. The Rifles at Waterloo                                126


  II. One of Craufurd's Veterans--                           139

  I. The King's Shilling                                     144

  II. In the Peninsula                                       153

  III. When the Fight is Over                                171

  IV. A Memorable Retreat                                    178

  V. Stern Scenes                                            194

  VI. Some Famous Soldiers                                   209

  VII. The "Tommy Atkins" of a Century Ago                   222


  III. A Royal Highlander--                                  235

  I. About Soldiers' Wives                                   241

  II. Fighting in the Pyrenees                               257

  III. The Hillside at Toulouse                              276

  IV. The 42nd at Quatre Bras                                287

  V. The Highlanders at Waterloo                             297


  IV. With the Guns at Waterloo--                            307

  I. Waiting for the Guns                                    311

  II. On March to the Field                                  327

  III. Quatre Bras                                           335

  IV. The Retreat to Waterloo                                350

  V. Waterloo                                                370

  VI. After the Fight                                        397




THE SOLDIER IN LITERATURE




WELLINGTON'S MEN




THE SOLDIER IN LITERATURE


This volume is an attempt to rescue from undeserved oblivion a cluster
of soldierly autobiographies; and to give to the general reader some
pictures of famous battles, not as described by the historian or
analysed by the philosopher, but as seen by the eyes of men who fought
in them. History treats the men who do the actual fighting in war very
ill. It commonly forgets all about them. If it occasionally sheds a few
drops of careless ink upon them, it is without either comprehension
or sympathy. From the orthodox historian's point of view, the private
soldier is a mere unconsidered pawn in the passionless chess of some
cold-brained strategist. As a matter of fact a battle is an event which
pulsates with the fiercest human passions--passions bred of terror and
of daring; of the anguish of wounds and of the rapture of victory; of
the fear and awe of human souls over whom there suddenly sweeps the
mystery of death.

But under conventional literary treatment all this evaporates. To
the historian a battle is as completely drained of human emotion as
a chemical formula. It is evaporated into a haze of cold and cloudy
generalities.

But this is certainly to miss what is, for the human imagination,
the most characteristic feature of a great fight. A battle offers
the spectacle of, say, a hundred thousand men lifted up suddenly
and simultaneously into a mood of intensest passion--heroic or
diabolical--eager to kill and willing to be killed; a mood in which
death and wounds count for nothing and victory for everything. This
is the feature of war which stirs the common imagination of the race;
which makes gentle women weep, and wise philosophers stare, and the
average hot-blooded human male turn half-frenzied with excitement.
What does each separate human atom feel, when caught in that whirling
tornado of passion and of peril? Who shall make visible to us the
actual faces in the fighting-line; or make audible the words--stern
order, broken prayer, blasphemous jest--spoken amid the tumult? Who
shall give us, in a word, an adequate picture of the soldier's life in
actual war-time, with its hardships, its excitements, its escapes, its
exultation and despair?

If the soldier attempts to tell the tale himself he commonly fails.
In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred he belongs to the inarticulate
classes. He lacks the gift of description. He can do a great deed, but
cannot describe it when it is done. If knowledge were linked in them to
an adequate gift of literary expression, soldiers would be the great
literary artists of the race. For who else lives through so wide and
so wild a range of experience and emotion. When, as in the case of
Napier, a soldier emerges with a distinct touch of literary genius, the
result is an immortal book. But usually the soldier has to be content
with making history; he leaves to others the tamer business of writing
it, and generally himself suffers the injustice of being forgotten in
the process. Literature is congested with books which describe the
soldier from the outside; which tell the tale of his hardships and
heroisms, his follies and vices, as they are seen by the remote and
uncomprehending spectator. What the world needs is the tale of the
bayonet and of "Brown Bess," written by the hand which has actually
used those weapons.

Now, the narratives which these pages offer afresh to the world are of
exactly this character. They are pages of battle-literature written by
the hands of soldiers. They are not attempts at history, but exercises
in autobiography. So they are actual human documents, with the salt
of truth, of sincerity, and of reality in every syllable. The faded
leaves of these memoirs are still stained with the red wine of battle.
In their words--to the imaginative and sympathetic hearer, at all
events--there are still audible the shouts of charging men, the roll
of musketry volleys, the wild cheer of the stormers at Ciudad Rodrigo
or Badajos, the earth-shaking thunder of Waterloo. Passages from four
of such autobiographies are woven into the pages of this book: Captain
Kincaid's "Adventures in the Rifle Brigade in the Peninsula, &c.";
Sergeant Anton's "Recollections of Service in the 42nd"; the tale of
"Rifleman Harris" in the old 95th; and Mercer's experiences in command
of a battery at Waterloo. All these books are old; three, at least, are
out of print, and form the rare prizes to be picked up by the fortunate
collector in second-hand bookshops. Anton's book was published in 1841,
Kincaid's in 1830, and is endorsed "very scarce." Captain Curling
edited "Rifleman Harris" in 1848. Mercer's "Journal of the Waterloo
Campaign" was written in 1830, and published as late as 1870. But it
consists of two volumes, in which the story of the great battle is
only an episode, and it has never reached any wide circle of readers.
Yet Mercer's account of Waterloo is the best personal narrative of the
great fight in English literature.

All these books are thus of rare interest and value. They belong to the
era of "Brown Bess," of the Peninsula, and of Waterloo. Each writer
represents a distinct type of soldiership. Kincaid was a captain in
one of the most famous regiments in British history--the Rifles in
Craufurd's Light Division. Harris was a private in another battalion of
the same regiment. Mercer commanded battery G--fondly described by its
Captain as "the finest troop in the service"--at Waterloo. Anton was a
Scottish soldier in that not least famous of Scottish regiments--the
42nd, or Royal Highlanders. They all took part in that chain of
memorable victories, which stretches from Roliça to Waterloo, and they
were all--though in widely different ways--fighting men of the highest
quality. Kincaid led a forlorn hope at Ciudad Rodrigo. Harris was one
of the unconquerable, much-enduring rearguard in Moore's retreat to
Corunna. Anton shared in the wild fighting of the 42nd at Toulouse.
Mercer fought his battery at Waterloo until, out of 200 fine horses in
his troop, 140 lay dead or dying; while of the men not enough survived
to man four guns; and these, as the great battle came to its end, fell,
smoke-blackened and exhausted, in slumber beside their blood-splashed
guns. Each writer, too, had, in an amusing degree, an intense pride in
the particular body to which he belonged. The army with him counted for
little, the regiment was everything.

Kincaid says, with entire frankness, if anybody who had not the good
fortune to belong to the "Rifles" expects to be named in his book, he
was "most confoundedly mistaken." "Neither," he adds, "will I mention
any regiment but my own, if I can possibly avoid it. For there is
none other that I like so much, and none else so much deserves it.
For we were the light regiment of the Light Division, and fired the
first and last shot in almost every battle, siege, and skirmish, in
which the army was engaged during the war." Kincaid admits that the
43rd and 52nd--the other regiments that formed the immortal Light
Division--deserved to be remembered, too; but the most flattering
compliment he can pay them is to say, "wherever we were, they were."
"Whenever it came to a pinch," he adds, "we had only to look behind
to see a line"--consisting of these two regiments--"in which we might
place a degree of confidence almost equal to our hopes in heaven. There
never was such a corps of riflemen with such supporters!"

Harris, again, cherishes the comforting persuasion that his particular
battalion could outmarch, outshoot, outlaugh, outdare--perhaps even
outdrink--any other in the British army. "We were," he says, "always
at the front in an advance, and at the rear in a retreat." He praises
the army as a whole, but it is only for the sake of erecting a pedestal
on which some new monument to the glory of the "Rifles" can be placed.
He recalls the memory of the British army as it approached Salamanca.
"The men," he says, "seemed invincible. Nothing, I thought, could
have beaten them." Yet the cream of it all was the "Rifles"! Harris's
working creed, in brief, consists of three articles: (1) that the
finest army in the world was that which Wellington led; (2) that the
finest regiment in that army was the 95th; and (3) that the best
battalion in the regiment was that his major commanded! "We had some
of as desperate fellows in the Rifles as had ever toiled under the
burning sun of an enemy's country in any age. There never were such a
set of devil-may-care fellows so completely up to their business as the
95th. They were in the mess before the others began, and were the last
to leave off. It was their business to be so.... There was, perhaps,
as intelligent and talented a set of men amongst us as ever carried a
weapon in any country. They seemed at times to need but a glance at
what was going on to know all about its 'why and wherefore.'"

Sergeant Anton, again, has all a good Scotchman's austere pride
in the superiority of a Scotch regiment over any other that ever
carried muskets. He has nothing but an imperfectly disguised pity
for those unfortunate people who have the bad taste to be born south
of the Tweed. Any Scotch regiment, he visibly holds, is necessarily
better than any possible regiment not brought up on porridge. And if
amongst the Scottish regiments there was any quite equal to the Royal
Highlanders, Sergeant Anton, at least, would like to know the name
of that surprising body. In the same fashion Captain Mercer, the one
educated man in this cluster of soldier-scribes, plainly cherishes a
hearty belief that battery G has the finest horses, the best equipment,
the smartest men, and the most perfect discipline, not merely in the
British army, but in any army known to history! Pride in the regiment
to which the soldier happens to belong is a fine element of military
strength. Under modern short-service conditions it grows faint; but
amongst Wellington's veterans it had almost the fervours of a religion.

It may be added that these writers are curiously distinct, and look at
war through very diverse eyes. Kincaid represents a type of officer in
which the British army of all days is rich; and whose qualities explain
some of the failures, and most of the triumphs of that army. He was
gallant in every drop of his blood; cool, hardy, athletic, a fit leader
of the fighting line. He had been reared in luxury, accustomed to feed
daintily every day, to lie softly every night; he was full of the
pride of his caste; yet in the actual business of fighting, Kincaid,
like all officers of the type to which he belonged, could outmarch the
privates in the ranks. He fared as hardly as they, shared their scanty
rations, lay like them on the wet soil, endured in every way as much,
and grumbled less. He was not only first in the charge, but last in
the retreat, and took it all--hunger, wet, cold, perils--with smiling
face, as part of the day's work. Harris, who views his officers through
a private's eyes, is never weary of dwelling on their hardihood, as
well as their pluck. "The gentlemen," he says, "bear it best." "It is
usually found," he adds, "that those whose birth and station might
reasonably have made them fastidious under hardship and toil, bear
their miseries without a murmur; while those whose previous life might
have better prepared them for the toil of war, are the first to cry out
and complain of their hard fate."

Kincaid belongs to this fine type of officer; but he had all the
limitations of his type. He knew nothing of the scientific side of
his profession. He fought by the light of nature, and looked on a
battle as a game of football. He was a true product of the English
public schools; gay, plucky, hardy, reckless. He lived under the
empire of great feelings--of patriotism, honour, &c.--but tortures
would not make him use great words to describe them. A shy and proud
self-disparagement is the note of Kincaid's type. They are almost more
afraid of being detected in doing a fine thing than others are of
being proved guilty of doing a base thing. Kincaid himself describes
how Ciudad Rodrigo was carried, but omits to mention the circumstance
that he volunteered for the forlorn hope, and led it. The tone of his
book is that of the officers' mess, bright, off-hand, jesting at peril,
making light of hardships. He tells the tale of heroic deeds--his own
or others'--with the severest economy of admiring adjectives. The only
adjectives, indeed, Kincaid admits are those of a comminatory sort.

Harris is a fair sample of the unconquerable British private of the
Peninsular age, with all the virtues, and all the limitations of his
class. He is stocky in body, stubborn in temper, untaught and primitive
in nature. He seems to have had no education. His horizon is singularly
limited. He sees little beyond the files to right and left of him. The
major who commands the battalion is the biggest figure in his world.
His endurance is wonderful. Laden like a donkey, with ill-fitting
boots and half-filled stomach, he can splash along the muddy Spanish
roads, under the falling rain, or sweat beneath the Spanish mid-summer
heats, from gray dawn to gathering dusk. He will toil on, indeed,
with dogged courage until his brain reels, his eyes grow blind, and
the over-wrought muscles can no longer stir the leaden feet. Harris
is loyal to his comrades; cherishes an undoubting confidence in his
officers; believes that, man for man, any British regiment can beat
twice its numbers of any other nation; while his own particular
regiment, the 95th, will cheerfully take in hand four times that ratio
of foes. Harris has no hate for a Frenchman; he respects and likes him
indeed, but he always expects to thrash him, and having shot his French
foe he is quite prepared to explore his pockets in search of booty.

For the British private in the Peninsula was by no means an angel in
a red coat. His vices, like his virtues, were of a primitive sort. He
drank, he swore, and alas, he plundered. If the valour which raged at
the great breach of Badajos, or swept up the slope of rugged stones at
San Sebastian, was of almost incredible fire, so the brutality which
plundered and ravished and slew after the city was carried, was of
almost incredible fierceness. Harris had no education or almost none;
yet he learned to write, and write well. His style, it is true, is
that of the uneducated man. He is most sensitive to things that touch
himself. He is conscious of the weight of his knapsack, of the blisters
on his feet, of the hunger in his stomach, and he drags all these
emotions into his tale. Yet Harris had, somehow, by gift of nature, an
unusual literary faculty. He sees, and he makes you see. It is true the
area of his vision is narrow. It is almost filled up, as we have said,
by his right- and left-hand files. It never goes beyond the battalion.
But on that narrow canvas he paints with the minuteness and fidelity of
a Dutch artist.

Sergeant-major Anton is really an economical and domestically inclined
Scotchman, whom chance has thrust into the ranks of the Royal
Highlanders; and who, finding himself a soldier, devotes himself to the
business with that hard-headed and unsentimental thoroughness which
makes the Lowland Scot about the most formidable fighting man the world
knows. For Anton is a Lowlander; heavy-footed, heavy-bodied, dour,
with nothing of a Highlander's excitability or clan-sentiment. A story
is current of how, in storming a kopje in South Africa, a Highland
soldier dislodged a Boer, and, with threatening bayonet, brought him to
a stand against a wall of rock. As he lingered for the final and fatal
lunge, another eager Scot called out "Oot o' the way, Jock, and gie
me room tae get a poke at him." "Na, na, Tam," shouted his frugal and
practically-minded comrade, "awa' wi' ye and find a Boer tae yersel'."

There is a touch of this severely practical spirit in Anton, and in
this, no doubt, he reflects his regiment. Given a French battery to
be stormed, here are men who, with bent heads, wooden faces, and
steady bayonets, will push on into the very flame of the guns, and
each man will do his separate part with a conscientious thoroughness
that no foe can withstand. The story of the fight on the hillside
at Toulouse illustrates this stern quality in Scottish soldiership.
But the domestic side of Anton's nature is always visible. He was
one of the few married men in his regiment, and he is never wearied
of describing what snug nests he built for his mate and himself in
the intervals betwixt marching and fighting, or when the troops had
gone into winter quarters. The value of Anton's book, indeed, lies
largely in the light it sheds on the fortunes and sufferings of the
hardy women, sharp of tongue and strong of body, who marched in the
rear of Wellington's troops; and who, to their honour be it recorded,
were usually faithful wives to the rough soldiers whose fortunes they
shared. Anton, it is amusing to note, is the only one of the group who
makes deliberate--and, it may be added, singularly unhappy--attempts
at fine writing. He indulges in frequent apostrophes to the reader,
to posterity, to his native country, and to the universe at large. In
his many-jointed sentences linger echoes of ancient sermons; far-off
flavours of the Shorter Catechism are discoverable in them. Anton,
however, can be simple and direct when he has an actual tale of
fighting to tell. He forgets his simplicity only when he moralises over
the battle-field the next day.

Mercer is much the ablest and most accomplished writer of the four. He
belonged to the scientific branch of the army, the artillery, and he
had studied his art with the thoroughness of a scholar. That Mercer was
a cool and gallant soldier of the finest type cannot be doubted. He
has, indeed, a fine military record, and rose to the rank of general,
and held command of the 9th Brigade of Royal Artillery. But Mercer was
a many-sided man in a quite curious degree. He was a scholar; a lover
of books; a country gentleman, with a country gentleman's delight in
horse-flesh and crops. He was, moreover, an artist, with a Ruskinesque,
not to say a Turneresque, sense of colour and form. A fine landscape
was for him a feast, only rivalled by the joy of a good book. He
lingers on the very edge of Quatre Bras, while the thunder of cannon
shakes the air, and while his own guns are floundering up a steep hill
path, to note and describe the far-stretching landscape, the glow of
the evening sky, the Salvator-like trees, the sparkle of glassy pools,
&c. Mercer is so good an artillery officer that he sees every buckle
in the harness of his horses, and every button on the uniforms of his
men; and yet he is sensitive to every tint and change in the landscape
through which his guns are galloping.

On the morning after Waterloo, his face still black with its smoke, and
his ears stunned with its roar, he picks his way across the turf, thick
with the bodies of the slain, into the garden of Hougoumont. The bodies
of the dead lie there, too; but Mercer is almost intoxicated with the
cool verdure of the trees, with the chant of a stray nightingale,
and even with "the exuberant vegetation of turnips and cabbages," as
well as with the scent of flowers! It is this combination of keen
artistic sensibility with the finest type of courage--courage which, if
gentle in form, was yet of the ice-brook's temper--which makes Mercer
interesting. Here was a man who might have fished with Izaak Walton,
or discussed hymns with Cowper, or philosophy with Coleridge; yet this
pensive, gentle, artistic, bookish man fought G Battery at Waterloo
till two-thirds of his troop were killed, and has written the best
account of the great battle, from the human and personal side, to be
found in English literature.

Here, then, are four human documents, of genuine historic value, as
well as of keen personal interest. They have their defects. There is
no perspective in their pages. To Rifleman Harris, for example, the
state of his boots is of as much importance, and is described with as
much detail, as the issue of the battle. These memoirs will not give
the reader the battle as a whole; still less the campaign; least of
all will they give the politics behind the campaign. But a magic is in
them, the magic of reality and of personal experience. They seem to
put the reader in the actual battle-line, to fill his nostrils with
the scent of gunpowder, to make his eyes tingle with the pungency of
ancient battle-smoke.

It may be added that these books give pictures of such battle
landscapes as will never be witnessed again. They belong to the period
when war had much more of the picturesque and human element than it has
to-day. "Brown Bess" was short of range, and the fighting-lines came so
near to each other that each man could see his foeman's face, and hear
his shout or oath. War appealed to every sense. It filled the eyes. It
registered itself in drifting continents of smoke. It deafened the ear
with blast of cannon and ring of steel. It adorned itself in all the
colours of the rainbow. The uniforms of Napoleon's troops, as they were
drawn up on the slopes of La Belle Alliance, were a sort of debauch of
colour. Houssaye gives a catalogue of the regiments--infantry of the
line in blue coats, white breeches, and gaiters; heavy cavalry with
glittering cuirasses and pennoned lances; chasseurs in green and purple
and yellow; hussars with dolmans and shakos of all tints--sky-blue,
scarlet, green, and red; dragoons with white shoulder-belts and
turban-helmets of tiger-skin, surmounted by a gleaming cone of brass;
lancers in green, with silken cords on their helmets; carabineers,
giants of six feet, clad in white, with breastplates of gold and lofty
helmets with red plumes; grenadiers in blue, faced with scarlet, yellow
epaulettes, and high bearskin caps; the red lancers--red-breeched,
red-capped, with floating white plumes half a yard long; the Young
Guard; the Old Guard, with bearskin helmets, blue trousers and coats;
the artillery of the Guard, with bearskin helmets, &c.

Such a host, looked at from the picturesque point of view, was a sort
of human rainbow, with a many-coloured gleam of metal--gold and silver,
steel and brass--added. And colour counts at least in attracting
recruits. Harris joined the 95th because his eyes were dazzled with
the "smartness" of its uniform. Lord Roberts has told the world how
he joined the Bengal Horse Artillery purely because he found their
white buckskin breeches, and the leopard skin and red plumes on the
men's helmets, irresistible! Napoleon, it will be remembered, turned
the spectacular aspect of his army to martial use. On the morning of
Waterloo he brought his troops over the slope of the hill in eleven
stately columns; he spread them out like a mighty glittering fan in
the sight of the coolly watching British. To foes of more sensitive
imagination the spectacle of that vast and iris-tinted host might
well have chilled their courage. But the British--whether to their
credit or their discredit may be disputed--keep their imagination and
their courage in separate compartments. They are not liable to be
discouraged, still less put to rout, by the most magnificent display of
what may be called the millinery of war.

But that aspect of war has faded, never to revive. Khaki kills the
picturesque. Battle has grown grey, remote, invisible. It consists
of trenches miles long, in which crouch unseen riflemen, shooting
at moving specks of grey, distant thousands of yards; or in guns
perched on hills five miles apart bellowing to each other across the
intervening valleys. It is not merely that in a battle of to-day a
soldier cannot see the features of the man he kills; he probably does
not see him at all. The Highlanders at the Modder marched, panted,
thirsted, killed, and were killed, for eight hours, and never saw a
Boer! The soldier to-day sees neither the pin-pricks of flame nor the
whiff of grey smoke which tell that somebody is shooting at him. For
these are days of smokeless powder and long-range rifles. The man shot
at only learns that circumstance as he catches the air-scurry of the
passing bullet, and the atmosphere about him grows full of what one
half-terrified war correspondent calls "little whimpering air-devils."

The interest of these books is that they bring back to us living
pictures, as seen through living human eyes, of the great battles of a
century ago--battles which have grown obsolete in fashion, but which
changed the currents of the world's history, and of whose gain we are
the heirs to-day.

It is curious, in a sense even amusing, to note how diversely their
famous commander impressed these four soldiers, each occupied in
recording for the benefit of posterity what he saw. Anton apparently
never sees Wellington. The human horizon for the Scottish sergeant is
filled with the colonel of his regiment. Harris gravely records how he
saw the great Duke take his hat off on the field of Vimiero; for the
rest, he held the ordinary view of the rank and file of the Peninsula
that the Duke's long nose on a battle-field was worth 10,000 men.
Kincaid says he was so anxious to see the Duke when he joined the army
that, as he puts it, "I never should have forgiven the Frenchman that
killed me before I effected it." He was soon gratified, but seems quite
unable to give any description of the great soldier. He contemplated
him with the sort of frightened awe with which the youngest boy at Eton
would look at "the head" arrayed in his official robes; a vision to
be contemplated from a safe distance, without the least desire for a
nearer and personal acquaintance.

Mercer came closer to the great Duke, and regards him with a cooler
and therefore a severer judgment. Mercer had boundless confidence in
Wellington as a battle-leader, but not the least affection for him
as a man, and it is plain he had no special reasons for affection.
Wellington had many fine moral qualities, but anxious consideration for
other people, or even calm justice in his dealings with them, is not
to be included in their catalogue. The famous general order he issued
after the retreat from Burgos is an example of the undiscriminating
harshness with which Wellington could treat an entire army. And that
element of harshness--of swift, impatient, relentless discipline that
could not stay to discriminate, to weigh evidence, or even to hear
it--was one great defect of Wellington as a general. About his soldiers
he had as little human feeling as a good chess-player has about his
pawns. Mercer never came into intercourse with the Duke but with
disaster to himself, a disaster edged with injustice.

When his troop was in France, Mercer says he ran an equal risk of
falling under the Duke's displeasure for systematically plundering
the farmers, or for not plundering them! If a commander of a battery
allowed his horses to look in worse condition than those of another
battery he was relentlessly punished. "The quick eye of the Duke
would see the difference. He asked no questions, attended to no
justification, but condemned the unfortunate captain as unworthy of the
command he held, and perhaps sent him from the army." But the official
amount of forage supplied was quite insufficient for the purpose of
keeping the horses in high condition. Other troops supplemented the
supply by "borrowing" from the farmers, and there was no resource but
to imitate them, or to risk professional ruin by presenting at parade
horses inferior in look to those of other troops nourished on mere
felony. Wellington forgave neither the unlicensed "borrowing" of the
officers nor the want of condition in their horses. Yet one fault or
the other was inevitable.

The Duke, it seems, "had no love for the artillery," and all his
harshness was expended on that branch of the service. "The Duke of
Wellington's ideas of discipline," says Mercer, "are rigid; his modes
of administering them are summary, and he is frequently led into acts
of the grossest injustice." Thus the owner of a building where some of
Mercer's men were quartered--a thorough rogue--complained to the Duke
that the lead piping of his house had been plundered and sold by the
guilty British gunners. Wellington made no inquiry, took no evidence.
A staff officer rode to Mercer's quarters one day with a copy of
this complaint, on the margin of which was written in the Duke's own
hand-writing: "Colonel Scovell will find out whose troop this is, and
they shall pay double." This was the first intimation the unfortunate
Mercer had received of the charge against him. The Frenchman pretended
to estimate his loss at 7000 francs, and Mercer was advised, in high
quarters, to pay this sum in order to escape the Duke's wrath. Mercer
appealed to Sir George Wood, who told him his only chance lay in
evading payment as long as he could; then the Duke might be caught in a
more amiable mood. The actual thief--one of the French villagers--was
discovered and convicted; but this circumstance, Mercer records, "has
not in the least altered my position with the Duke of Wellington; for
none dare tell him the story; and even Sir Edward Barnes, who kindly
attempted it, met with a most ungracious rebuff!"

The French scoundrel, meanwhile, was dunning Mercer to get his 7000
francs. The situation remained thus for weeks, till the audacious
Frenchman ventured on a second interview with the Duke. The Duke had
dismounted, as it happened, in a very ill humour, at the door of his
hotel, and the Frenchman pursued him up the grand staircase with his
complaint. The Duke turned roughly upon him, "What the devil do you
want, sir?" The Frenchman presented his bill with a flourish, whereupon
the Duke exclaimed to his aide-de-camp, "Pooh! kick the rascal
downstairs!" The Frenchman and his bill thus vanished from the scene;
but Mercer's comment is "that I eventually escaped paying a heavy sum
for depredations committed by others is due, not to the Duke's sense of
justice, but only to the irritability of his temper."

On another occasion Sir Augustus Fraser, meeting him, said, "Mercer,
you are released from arrest." Mercer stared: but on inquiry,
discovered that he had been officially under arrest for a fortnight
without knowing it. At a review, just before passing the saluting
point, a horse in the rear division of his battery got its leg over the
trace. The limber gunners leaped smartly off, put things straight, and
jumped to their places again; but the division, with their 18-pounders,
had to trot to regain place, and were just pulling up when they reached
the saluting point. The precise and rhythmical order of the troop
was a little disturbed, and Wellington, in a burst of wrath, put Sir
Augustus Fraser himself, who was in command of all the artillery, the
major in command of the brigade, and Mercer, the captain of the guilty
troop, under arrest, where--happily all unconscious--they remained for
a fortnight. Later Mercer wished to apply for leave of absence, but Sir
George Wood declined to present the request, as he said, "'It would not
be prudent just now to remind the Duke of me in any way.' Rather hard
and unjust this," is Mercer's comment.

Mercer, however, tells one story, which shows that the Duke of
Wellington was capable of sly satire at the expense of the French. An
English officer walking on the boulevard was rudely pushed into the
gutter by a French gentleman, whom the Englishman promptly knocked
down. The Frenchman, it turned out, was a marshal. He complained to the
Duke, but could not identify the officer who had knocked him down. The
Duke thereupon issued a general order, desiring that "British officers
would, in future, abstain from beating marshals of France."




I

FROM TORRES VEDRAS TO
WATERLOO




I.--FROM TORRES VEDRAS TO WATERLOO


Kincaid, the author of "Adventures in the Rifle Brigade," was born at
Dalheath, near Falkirk, in 1787. He held a lieutenant's commission in
the North York Militia, but in 1809 when only twenty-two years old,
joined, as a volunteer, the second battalion of the famous 95th--the
"Rifles" in the immortal Light Division. His first military service
was of an unhappy sort. He took part in the Walcheren expedition, and,
spite of a cheerful temper and a good constitution, fell a victim
to the swamp-bred agues and fevers which destroyed that ill-led
and ill-fated expedition. He emerged from his first campaign with
shattered health and no glory. In 1811 his battalion was ordered to
the Peninsula, and with it Kincaid marched and fought from the lines
of Torres Vedras to Waterloo. In the hard fighting of those stern days
the Rifles played a brilliant part. Kincaid kept guard in the great
hill-defences of Torres Vedras, joined in the pursuit of Massena, when
that general fell suddenly back, shared in the fury of the breaches at
Ciudad Rodrigo, and in the yet wilder assault on the great breach at
Badajos, and took part in all the great battles of those years from
Fuentes to Vittoria. He survived the stubborn and bloody combats in the
Pyrenees, fought at Toulouse, Quatre Bras, and on the famous ridge
at Waterloo. His battalion stood almost in the centre of Wellington's
battle-line on that fierce day, and the most desperate fighting of the
day eddied round it.

Kincaid was thus a gallant soldier, in a gallant regiment, and played a
part in great events. But his promotion was slow; he only received his
captain's commission in 1826. He was more fortunate, indeed, after he
left the army than while he served in it. He was given a place in the
Yeomen of the Guard in 1844, was knighted in 1852, and died in 1862,
aged seventy-five.

Kincaid's "Adventures in the Rifle Brigade" is a book of great merits
and of great faults. It is brisk, stirring, and picturesque, and paints
with great vividness the life of a subaltern in a fighting regiment
and during fighting times. But the book lacks order. Dates are dropped
into it, or are left out of it, with the most airy caprice. It has
no intelligible relationship to history. It never gives the reader
a glimpse of the history-making events which serve as a background
to the marching and the fighting of the Rifles. Kincaid, in a word,
races through his campaigns as a youth might race across the hills in
a harrier-chase; or, rather, as a boy with a lively sense of humour,
might saunter through a fair--without a plan, except to get all the
fun he can, and stopping, now to laugh at a clown, now to stare at a
mimic tragedy, now to exchange a jest with some other boy. His choice
of incident is determined absolutely by the "fun" they include--the
flavour of humour, or the gleam of the picturesque, which he can
discover in them. He makes no pretension, that is, to connected and
adequate narrative. But his record of adventures is always amusing,
often vivid, and sometimes has a certain thrilling quality which, after
the lapse of so many years, yet keeps its power.

Kincaid's tale is best served by re-grouping its incidents under
distinct heads. In his earlier chapters, for example, he gives
curiously interesting sketches of what may be called the non-fighting
side of a soldier's life--the marches, the bivouacs; the gossip of the
camp fires; the hardships--of muddy roads, of rain-filled skies, or of
dust and heat and thirst, of non-existent rations, and of sleepless
nights--which the soldier has to endure. So the reader gets a glimpse
the orthodox historians quite fail to give of the hardy, resourceful,
much-enduring British soldier of the Peninsula. Kincaid may be left to
tell all this in his own words, though with generous condensation.




CHAPTER I

A YOUNG SOLDIER


Kincaid dismisses, as not worth remembering or recording, all the tame
days of his life before he became a soldier on active service, and
plunges abruptly into his tale:--

"I joined the 2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade (then the 95th), at Hythe
Barracks, in the spring of 1809, and, in a month after, we proceeded to
form a part of the expedition to Holland, under the Earl of Chatham.

"With the usual quixotic feelings of a youngster, I remember how
desirous I was, on the march to Deal, to impress the minds of the
natives with a suitable notion of the magnitude of my importance, by
carrying a donkey-load of pistols in my belt, and screwing my naturally
placid countenance up to a pitch of ferocity beyond what it was
calculated to bear.

"We embarked in the Downs, on board the _Hussar_ frigate, and
afterwards removed to the _Namur_, a seventy-four, in which we
were conveyed to our destination. We landed on the island of South
Beeveland, where we remained about three weeks, playing at soldiers,
smoking mynheer's long clay pipes, and drinking his vrow's butter-milk,
for which I paid liberally with my precious blood to their infernal
mosquitoes; not to mention that I had all the extra valour shaken out
of me by a horrible ague, which commenced a campaign on my carcass, and
compelled me to retire upon Scotland, for the aid of my native air, by
virtue of which it was ultimately routed.

"I shall not carry my first chapter beyond my first campaign, as I am
anxious that my reader should not expend more than his first breath
upon an event which cost too many their last.

"I rejoined the battalion, at Hythe, in the spring of 1810, and,
finding that the company to which I belonged had embarked to join
the first battalion in the Peninsula, and that they were waiting
at Spithead for a fair wind, I immediately applied, and obtained
permission, to join them. We anchored in the Tagus in September; no
thanks to the ship, for she was a leaky one, and wishing foul winds to
the skipper, for he was a bad one.

"To look at Lisbon from the Tagus, there are few cities in the universe
that can promise so much, and none, I hope, that can keep it so badly.
I only got on shore one day for a few hours, and as I never again had
an opportunity of correcting the impression, I have no objection to its
being considered an uncharitable one; but I wandered for a time amid
the abominations of its streets and squares, in the vain hope that I
had got involved among a congregation of stables and out-houses; but I
was at length compelled to admit it as the miserable apology for the
fair city that I had seen from the harbour.

"It pleased the great disposer of naval events to remove us to another
and a better ship, and to send us off for Figuera next day with a
foul wind. Sailing at the rate of one mile in two hours, we reached
Figuera's Bay at the end of eight days, and were welcomed by about a
hundred hideous-looking Portuguese women, whose joy was so excessive
that they waded up to their arm-pits through a heavy surf, and insisted
on carrying us on shore on their backs! I never clearly ascertained
whether they had been actuated by the purity of love or gold."

Kincaid joined Wellington's forces at what might well have seemed a
very gloomy juncture. The British army was in full retreat. The star
of Massena shone in the ascendant. Talavera and Busaco had been fought,
and fought apparently in vain. Spain was abandoned, Portugal invaded.
Wellington seemed to be retreating to his ships. The secret of the
great lines of Torres Vedras, which were to finally arrest Massena's
advance, and save not only Portugal, but the Peninsula--perhaps
Europe--had been so well kept that even Wellington's own forces
were in ignorance of their existence. Yet Kincaid shows an easy and
careless unconsciousness of the disquieting aspect the campaign wore.
It was enough for him that he marched and fought with his regiment,
and shared all its fortunes. He scarcely looks beyond the files of
his own company, and has no doubt whatever that the French will be
satisfactorily thrashed in the end!

 "We proceeded next morning to join the army; and as our route lay
 through the city of Coimbra we came to the magnanimous resolution
 of providing ourselves with all manner of comforts and equipments
 for the campaign on our arrival there; but when we entered it at
 the end of the second day, our disappointment was quite eclipsed by
 astonishment at finding ourselves the only living things in the city,
 which ought to have been furnished with twenty thousand souls.

 "Lord Wellington was then in the course of his retreat from the
 frontiers of Spain to the lines of Torres Vedras, and had compelled
 the inhabitants on the line of march to abandon their homes, and
 to destroy or carry away everything that could be of service to
 the enemy. It was a measure that ultimately saved their country,
 though ruinous and distressing to those concerned, and on no class
 of individuals did it bear harder, for the moment, than our own
 little detachment, a company of rosy-cheeked, chubbed youths, who,
 after three months' feeding on ship's dumplings, were thus thrust,
 at a moment of extreme activity, in the face of an advancing foe,
 supported by a pound of raw beef, drawn every day fresh from the
 bullock, and a mouldy biscuit.

 "The difficulties we encountered were nothing out of the usual course
 of old campaigners; but, untrained and unprovided as I was, I still
 looked back upon the twelve or fourteen days following the battle
 of Busaco as the most trying I have ever experienced, for we were
 on our legs from daylight until dark, in daily contact with the
 enemy; and, to satisfy the stomach of an ostrich, I had, as already
 stated, only a pound of beef, a pound of biscuit, and one glass of
 rum. A brother-officer was kind enough to strap my boat-cloak and
 portmanteau on the mule carrying his heavy baggage, which, on account
 of the proximity of the foe, was never permitted to be within a
 day's march of us, so that, in addition to my simple uniform, my
 only covering every night was the canopy of heaven, from whence the
 dews descended so refreshingly that I generally awoke, at the end of
 an hour, chilled, and wet to the skin; and I could only purchase an
 equal length of additional repose by jumping up and running about
 until I acquired a sleeping quantity of warmth. Nothing in life can
 be more ridiculous than seeing a lean, lank fellow start from a
 profound sleep at midnight, and begin lashing away at the Highland
 fling as if St. Andrew himself had been playing the bagpipes; but it
 was a measure that I very often had recourse to, as the cleverest
 method of producing heat. In short, though the prudent general may
 preach the propriety of light baggage in the enemy's presence, I will
 ever maintain that there is marvellous small personal comfort in
 travelling so fast and so lightly as I did.

 "The Portuguese farmers will tell you that the beauty of their
 climate consists in their crops receiving from the nightly dews the
 refreshing influence of a summer's shower, and that they ripen in
 the daily sun. But they are a sordid set of rascals! Whereas I speak
 with the enlightened views of a man of war, and say, that it is poor
 consolation to me, after having been deprived of my needful repose,
 and kept all night in a fever, dancing wet and cold, to be told that
 I shall be warm enough in the morning? It is like frying a person
 after he has been boiled; and I insisted upon it, that if their sun
 had been milder and their dews lighter I should have found it much
 more pleasant.

 "Having now brought myself regularly into the field, under the
 renowned Wellington, should this narrative, by any accident,
 fall into the hands of others who served there, and who may be
 unreasonable enough to expect their names to be mentioned in it, let
 me tell them that they are most confoundedly mistaken! Every man may
 write a book for himself, if he likes; but this is mine; and, as I
 borrow no man's story, neither will I give any man a particle of
 credit for his deed, as I have got so little for my own that I have
 none to spare. Neither will I mention any regiment but my own, if I
 can possibly avoid it, for there is none other that I like so much,
 and none else so much deserves it; for we were the light regiment of
 the Light Division, and fired the first and last shot in almost every
 battle, siege, and skirmish in which the army was engaged during the
 war.

 "In stating the foregoing resolution, however, with regard to
 regiments, I beg to be understood as identifying our old and gallant
 associates, the 43rd and 52nd, as a part of ourselves, for they bore
 their share in everything, and I love them as I hope to do my better
 half (when I come to be divided); wherever we were, they were; and
 although the nature of our arm generally gave us more employment in
 the way of skirmishing, yet, whenever it came to a pinch, independent
 of a suitable mixture of them among us, we had only to look behind to
 see a line, in which we might place a degree of confidence, almost
 equal to our hopes in heaven; nor were we ever disappointed. There
 never was a corps of riflemen in the hands of such supporters!"

On October 12, Wellington entered the lines of Torres Vedras, and
Massena found his advance barred by frowning lines of trenched and
gun-crowned hills, the screen behind which his great antagonist had
vanished. During the last few days of the retreat and pursuit the pace
of events quickened; the British rearguard was sharply pressed, and
Kincaid, for once grows consecutive and orderly in his narrative:--

 "_October 1, 1810._--We stood to our arms at daylight this morning,
 on a hill in front of Coimbra; and, as the enemy soon after came
 on in force, we retired before them through the city. The civil
 authorities, in making their own hurried escape, had totally
 forgotten that they had left a jail full of rogues unprovided
 for, and who, as we were passing near them, made the most hideous
 screaming for relief. Our quarter-master-general very humanely took
 some men, who broke open the doors, and the whole of them were soon
 seen howling along the bridge into the wide world, in the most
 delightful delirium, with the French dragoons at their heels.

 "We retired the same night through Condacia, where the commissariat
 were destroying quantities of stores that they were unable to carry
 off. They handed out shoes and shirts to any one that would take
 them, and the streets were literally running ankle deep with rum, in
 which the soldiers were dipping their cups and helping themselves as
 they marched along. The commissariat, some years afterwards, called
 for a return of the men who had received shirts and shoes on this
 occasion, with a view of making us pay for them, but we very briefly
 replied that the one-half were dead, and the other half would be
 d----d before they would pay anything.

 "We retired this day to Leria, and, at the entrance of the city,
 saw an English and a Portuguese soldier dangling by the bough of a
 tree--the first summary example I had ever seen of martial law.

 "We halted one night near the convent of Batalha, one of the finest
 buildings in Portugal. It has, I believe, been clearly established,
 that a living man in ever so bad health is better than two dead
 ones; but it appears that the latter will vary in value according to
 circumstances, for we found here, in very high preservation, the body
 of King John of Portugal, who founded the edifice in commemoration
 of some victory, God knows how long ago; and though he would have
 been reckoned a highly valuable antique, within a glass case, in an
 apothecary's hall in England, yet he was held so cheap in his own
 house, that the very finger which most probably pointed the way to
 the victory alluded to, is now in the baggage of the Rifle Brigade.
 Reader, point not thy finger at me, for I am not the man.

 "Retired on the morning of a very wet, stormy day to Allenquer, a
 small town on the top of a mountain, surrounded by still higher ones;
 and, as the enemy had not shown themselves the evening before, we
 took possession of the houses, with a tolerable prospect of being
 permitted the unusual treat of eating a dinner under cover. But by
 the time that the pound of beef was parboiled, and while an officer
 of dragoons was in the act of reporting that he had just patrolled
 six leagues to the front, without seeing any signs of an enemy,
 we saw the indefatigable rascals, on the mountains opposite our
 windows, just beginning to wind round us, with a mixture of cavalry
 and infantry; the wind blowing so strong that the long tail of
 each particular horse stuck as stiffly out in the face of the one
 behind, as if the whole had been strung upon a cable and dragged by
 the leaders. We turned out a few companies, and kept them in check
 while the division was getting under arms, spilt the soup as usual,
 and, transferring the smoking solids to the haversack, for future
 mastication, we continued our retreat.

 "Our long retreat ended at midnight, on our arrival at the handsome
 little town of Arruda, which was destined to be the piquet post of
 our division, in front of the fortified lines. The quartering of our
 division, whether by night or by day, was an affair of about five
 minutes. The quarter-master-general preceded the troops, accompanied
 by the brigade-majors and the quarter-masters of regiments; and
 after marking off certain houses for his general and staff, he split
 the remainder of the town between the majors of brigades; they,
 in their turn, provided for their generals and staff, and then
 made a wholesale division of streets among the quarter-masters of
 regiments, who, after providing for their commanding officers and
 staff, retailed the remaining houses, in equal proportions, among the
 companies; so that, by the time that the regiment arrived, there was
 nothing to be done beyond the quarter-master's simply telling each
 captain, 'Here's a certain number of houses for you.'

 "Like all other places on the line of march, we found Arruda totally
 deserted; and its inhabitants had fled in such a hurry, that the
 keys of their house doors were the only things they carried away,
 so that when we got admission through our usual key--transmitting
 a rifle-ball through the keyhole: it opens every lock--we were not
 a little gratified to find that the houses were not only regularly
 furnished, but most of them had some food in the larder, and a
 plentiful supply of good wines in the cellar; and, in short, that
 they only required a few lodgers capable of appreciating the good
 things which the gods had provided; and the deuce is in it if we were
 not the very folks who could!

 "Those who wish a description of the lines of Torres Vedras, must
 part. I know nothing, excepting that I was told that one end of them
 rested on the Tagus, and the other somewhere on the sea; and I saw,
 with my own eyes, a variety of redoubts and fieldworks on the various
 hills which stand between. This, however, I do know, that we have
 since kicked the French out of more formidable-looking and stronger
 places; and, with all due deference be it spoken, I think that the
 Prince of Essling ought to have tried his luck against them, as he
 could only have been beaten by fighting, as he afterwards was without
 it! And if he thinks that he would have lost as many men by trying,
 as he did by not trying, he must allow me to differ in opinion with
 him.

 "In very warm or very wet weather it was customary to put us under
 cover in the town during the day, but we were always moved back
 to our bivouac on the heights during the night; and it was rather
 amusing to observe the different notions of individual comfort, in
 the selection of furniture, which officers transferred from their
 town house to their no house on the heights. A sofa, or a mattress,
 one would have thought most likely to be put in requisition; but
 it was not unusual to see a full-length looking-glass preferred to
 either.

 "We certainly lived in clover while we remained here; everything we
 saw was our own, seeing no one there who had a more legitimate claim;
 and every field was a vineyard. Ultimately it was considered too much
 trouble to pluck the grapes, as there were a number of poor native
 thieves in the habit of coming from the rear every day to steal some,
 so that a soldier had nothing to do but to watch one until he was
 marching off with his basket full, when he would very deliberately
 place his back against that of the Portuguese, and relieve him of his
 load, without wasting any words about the bargain. The poor wretch
 would follow the soldier to the camp, in the hope of having his
 basket returned, as it generally was, when emptied."

Massena held on to his position in front of the great lines he dared
not attack till November 12, then he fell back to Santarem, whence he
could still keep Wellington blockaded. He held this position till March
1811, nearly five months in all--months of cold, rain, and hunger--a
miracle of stubborn and sullen endurance. Kincaid, acting on his usual
principle that all time not occupied in actively doing something is to
be counted as non-existent, passes over the tale of these months in
a dozen lines. His narrative only becomes full again when Wellington
sallies out of his hilly stronghold and presses in pursuit of Massena.
We then have graphic pictures of the hardships of a soldier's life:--

 "Massena, conceiving any attack upon our lines to be hopeless, as
 his troops were rapidly mouldering away with sickness and want, at
 length began to withdraw them nearer to the source of his supplies.
 He abandoned his position, opposite to us, on the night of November
 9, leaving some stuffed-straw gentlemen occupying their usual posts.
 Some of them were cavalry, some infantry, and they seemed such
 respectable representatives of their spectral predecessors, that,
 in the haze of the following morning, we thought that they had been
 joined by some well-fed ones from the rear; and it was late in the
 day before we discovered the mistake, and advanced in pursuit.

 "It was late ere we halted for the night, on the side of the road,
 near to Allenquer, and I got under cover in a small house, which
 looked as if it had been honoured as the headquarters of the
 tailor-general of the French army, for the floor was strewed with
 variegated threads, various complexioned buttons, with particles and
 remnants of cabbage; and, if it could not boast of the flesh and fowl
 of Noah's ark, there was an abundance of the creeping things which it
 were to be wished that that commander had not left behind.

 "On our arrival at Valle, on November 12, we found the enemy behind
 the Rio Maior, occupying the heights of Santarem, and exchanged
 some shots with their advanced posts. In the course of the night
 we experienced one of those tremendous thunderstorms which used to
 precede the Wellington victories, and which induced us to expect a
 general action on the following day. I had disposed myself to sleep
 in a beautiful green hollow way, and, before I had time even to dream
 of the effects of their heavy rains, I found myself floating most
 majestically towards the river, in a fair way of becoming food for
 the fishes. I ever after gave those inviting-looking spots a wide
 berth, as I found that they were regular watercourses.

 "Next morning our division crossed the river, and commenced a false
 attack on the enemy's left, with a view of making them show their
 force; and it was to have been turned into a real attack, if their
 position was found to be occupied by a rearguard only; but, after
 keeping up a smart skirmishing fire the great part of the day, Lord
 Wellington was satisfied that their whole army was present; we were
 consequently withdrawn.

 "This affair terminated the campaign of 1810. Our division took
 possession of the village of Valle and its adjacents, and the rest
 of the army was placed in cantonments, under whatever cover the
 neighbouring country afforded."

Here are some of Kincaid's pictures of a British army in winter
quarters, with one fierce campaign behind it, and another, almost
sterner still in character, before it:--

 "Our battalion was stationed in some empty farm-houses, near the end
 of the bridge of Santarem, which was nearly half a mile long; and our
 sentries and those of the enemy were within pistol-shot of each other
 on the bridge.

 "I do not mean to insinuate that a country is never so much at peace
 as when at open war; but I do say that a soldier can nowhere sleep so
 soundly, nor is he anywhere so secure from surprise, as when within
 musket-shot of his enemy.

 "We lay four months in this situation, divided only by a rivulet,
 without once exchanging shots. Every evening, at the hour

'When bucks to dinner go,
And cits to sup,'

 it was our practice to dress for sleep: we saddled our horses,
 buckled on our armour, and lay down, with the bare floor for a
 bed, and a stone for a pillow, ready for anything, and reckless of
 everything but the honour of our corps and country; for I will say
 (to save the expense of a trumpeter) that a more devoted set of
 fellows were never associated. We stood to our arms every morning at
 an hour before daybreak, and remained there until a grey horse could
 be seen a mile off (which is the military criterion by which daylight
 is acknowledged, and the hour of surprise past), when we proceeded to
 unharness and to indulge in such luxuries as our toilet and our table
 afforded.

 "Our piquet-post, at the bridge, became a regular lounge for the
 winter to all manner of folks. I used to be much amused at seeing our
 naval officers come up from Lisbon riding on mules, with huge ships'
 spy-glasses, like six-pounders, strapped across the backs of their
 saddles. Their first question invariably was, 'Who is that fellow
 there' (pointing to the enemy's sentry close to us), and, on being
 told that he was a Frenchman, 'Then why the devil don't you shoot
 him!'

 "Repeated acts of civility passed between the French and us during
 this tacit suspension of hostilities. The greyhounds of an officer
 followed a hare, on one occasion, into their lines, and they very
 politely returned them. I was one night on piquet at the end of the
 bridge when a ball came from the French sentry and struck the burning
 billet of wood round which we were sitting, and they sent in a flag
 of truce next morning to apologise for the accident, and to say that
 it had been done by a stupid fellow of a sentry, who imagined that
 people were advancing upon him. We admitted the apology, though we
 knew well enough that it had been done by a malicious rather than a
 stupid fellow from the situation we occupied.

 "General Junot, one day reconnoitring, was severely wounded by a
 sentry, and Lord Wellington, knowing that they were at that time
 destitute of everything in the shape of comfort, sent to request his
 acceptance of anything that Lisbon afforded that could be of any
 service to him; but the French general was too much of a politician
 to admit the want of anything."




CHAPTER II

RETREATS AND PURSUITS


The campaign of 1811-12 is not the least memorable of the immortal
campaigns in the Peninsula. It saw Fuentes, Albuera, and Salamanca
fought; it includes the great sieges of Ciudad Rodrigo and of Badajos;
it witnessed the failure at Burgos. We give Kincaid's account of these
great events in other chapters; in this we are simply grouping his
pictures of soldiers on the march--in retreat or pursuit--with the
hardships and combats which attend such movements. This campaign is
specially rich in such pictures. It begins with the fierce marches in
which Wellington pursued Massena beyond the Portuguese frontier, and
closes with the disastrous and memorable retreat from Burgos:--

 "The campaign of 1811 commenced on March 6, by the retreat of the
 enemy from Santarem.

 "Lord Wellington seemed to be perfectly acquainted with their
 intentions, for he sent to apprise our piquets the evening before
 that they were going off, and to desire that they should feel for
 them occasionally during the night, and give the earliest information
 of their having started. It was not, however, until daylight that
 we were quite certain of their having gone, and our division was
 instantly put in motion after them, passing through the town of
 Santarem, around which their camp fires were still burning.

 "Santarem is finely situated, and probably had been a handsome town.
 I had never seen it in prosperity, and it now looked like a city of
 the plague, represented by empty dogs and empty houses; and, but for
 the tolling of a convent bell by some unseen hand, its appearance
 was altogether inhuman. We halted for the night near Pyrnes. This
 little town, and the few wretched inhabitants who had been induced to
 remain in it, under the faithless promises of the French generals,
 showed fearful signs of a late visit from a barbarous and merciless
 foe. Young women were lying in their houses brutally violated--the
 streets were strewn with broken furniture, intermixed with the
 putrid carcasses of murdered peasants, mules, and donkeys, and
 every description of filth, that filled the air with pestilential
 nausea. The few starved male inhabitants who were stalking amid the
 wreck of their friends and property, looked like so many skeletons
 who had been permitted to leave their graves for the purpose of
 taking vengeance on their oppressors, and the mangled body of every
 Frenchman who was unfortunate or imprudent enough to stray from his
 column showed how religiously they performed their mission.

 "_March 8._--We overtook their rearguard this evening, snugly put
 up for the night in a little village, the name of which I do not
 recollect, but a couple of six-pounders, supported by a few of our
 rifles, induced them to extend their walk.

 "_March 11._--As it is possible that some of my readers might never
 have had the misfortune to experience the comforts of a bivouac, and
 as the one which I am now in contains but a small quantity of sleep,
 I shall devote a waking hour for their edification.

 "When a regiment arrives at its ground for the night it is formed in
 columns of companies at full, half, or quarter distance, according
 to the space which circumstances will permit it to occupy. The
 officer commanding each company then receives his orders; and,
 after communicating whatever may be necessary to the men, he desires
 them to 'pile arms, and make themselves comfortable for the night.'
 Now, I pray thee, most sanguine reader, suffer not thy fervid
 imagination to transport thee into Elysian fields at the pleasing
 exhortation conveyed in the concluding part of the captain's address,
 but rest thee contentedly in the one where it is made, which in
 all probability is a ploughed one, and that, too, in a state of
 preparation to take a model of thy very beautiful person, under the
 melting influence of a shower of rain. The soldiers of each company
 have a hereditary claim to the ground next to their arms, as have
 their officers to a wider range on the same line, limited to the end
 of a bugle sound, if not by a neighbouring corps, or one that is
 not neighbourly, for the nearer a man is to his enemy the nearer he
 likes to be to his friends. Suffice it, that each individual knows
 his place as well as if he had been born on the estate, and takes
 immediate possession accordingly. In a ploughed or a stubble field
 there is scarcely a choice of quarters; but whenever there is a
 sprinkling of trees it is always an object to secure a good one, as
 it affords shelter from the sun by day and the dews by night, besides
 being a sort of home or signpost for a group of officers, as denoting
 the best place of entertainment; for they hang their spare clothing
 and accoutrements among the branches, barricade themselves on each
 side with their saddles, canteens, and portmanteaus, and, with a
 blazing fire in their front, they indulge, according to their various
 humours, in a complete state of gipsyfication.

 "There are several degrees of comfort to be reckoned in a bivouac,
 two of which will suffice.

 "The first, and worst, is to arrive at the end of a cold, wet
 day, too dark to see your ground, and too near the enemy to be
 permitted to unpack the knapsacks or to take off accoutrements;
 where, unencumbered with baggage or eatables of any kind, you have
 the consolation of knowing that things are now at their worst, and
 that any change must be for the better. You keep yourself alive for
 a while in collecting material to feed your fire with. You take a
 smell at your empty calabash, which recalls to your remembrance the
 delicious flavour of its last drop of wine. You curse your servant
 for not having contrived to send you something or other from the
 baggage (though you know that it was impossible). You then d---- the
 enemy for being so near you, though, probably, as in the present
 instance, it was you that came so near them. And, finally, you take
 a whiff at the end of a cigar, if you have one, and keep grumbling
 through the smoke, like distant thunder through a cloud, until you
 tumble into a most warlike sleep.

 "The next, and most common one, is when you are not required to look
 quite so sharp, and when the light baggage and provisions come in at
 the heel of the regiment. If it is early in the day, the first thing
 to be done is to make some tea, the most sovereign restorative for
 jaded spirits. We then proceed to our various duties. The officers
 of each company form a mess of themselves. One remains in camp to
 attend to the duties of the regiment; a second attends to the mess;
 he goes to the regimental butcher and bespeaks a portion of the only
 purchasable commodities--hearts, livers, and kidneys; and also to see
 whether he cannot do the commissary out of a few extra biscuits, or a
 canteen of brandy; and the remainder are gentlemen at large for the
 day. But while they go hunting among the neighbouring regiments for
 news, and the neighbouring houses for curiosity, they have always an
 eye to their mess, and omit no opportunity of adding to the general
 stock.

 "Dinner-hour, for fear of accident, is always the hour when dinner
 can be got ready; and the 14th section of the articles of war is
 always most rigidly attended to by every good officer parading
 himself round the camp-kettle at the time fixed, with his haversack
 in his hand. A haversack on service is a sort of dumb waiter. The
 mess have a good many things in common, but the contents of the
 haversack are exclusively the property of its owner.

 "After doing justice to the dinner, if we feel in a humour for
 additional society, we transfer ourselves to some neighbouring mess,
 taking our cups and whatever we mean to drink along with us, for in
 those times there is nothing to be expected from our friends beyond
 the pleasure of their conversation; and, finally, we retire to rest.
 To avoid inconvenience by the tossing off of the bed-clothes, each
 officer has a blanket sewed up at the side, like a sack, into which
 he scrambles, and, with a green sod or a smooth stone for a pillow,
 composes himself to sleep, and, under such a glorious reflecting
 canopy as the heavens, it would be a subject of mortification to an
 astronomer to see the celerity with which he tumbles into it. Habit
 gives endurance, and fatigue is the best nightcap; no matter that the
 veteran's countenance is alternately stormed with torrents of rain,
 heavy dews, and hoar-frosts; no matter that his ears are assailed
 by a million mouths of chattering locusts, and by some villainous
 donkey, who every half-hour pitches a bray note, which is instantly
 taken up by every mule and donkey in the army, and sent echoing from
 regiment to regiment, over hill and valley, until it dies away in the
 distance; no matter that the scorpion is lurking beneath his pillow,
 the snake winding is slimy way by his side, and the lizard galloping
 over his face, wiping his eyes with its long, cold tail.

 "All are unheeded, until the warning voice of the brazen instrument
 sounds to arms. Strange it is that the ear which is impervious to
 what would disturb the rest of the world besides, should alone be
 alive to one, and that, too, a sound which is likely to soothe the
 sleep of the citizens, or at most to set them dreaming of their
 loves. But so it is. The first note of the melodious bugle places
 the soldier on his legs, like lightning; when, muttering a few curses
 at the unseasonableness of the hour, he plants himself on his alarm
 post, without knowing or caring about the cause.

 "Such is a bivouac; and our sleep-breaker having just sounded, the
 reader will find what occurred by reading on.

 "_March 12._--We stood to our arms before daylight. Finding that
 the enemy had quitted the position in our front, we proceeded to
 follow them; and had not gone far before we heard the usual morning's
 salutation of a couple of shots between their rear and our advanced
 guard. On driving in their outposts, we found their whole army drawn
 out on the plain, near Redinha, and instantly quarrelled with them on
 a large scale."

Here is a picture of one of the almost constant skirmishes which marked
Wellington's advance and Massena's slow and stubborn retreat:--

 "As everybody has read 'Waverley' and the 'Scottish Chiefs,' and
 knows that one battle is just like another, inasmuch as they always
 conclude by one or both sides running away, and as it is nothing to
 me what this or t'other regiment did, nor do I care three buttons
 what this or t'other person thinks he did, I shall limit all my
 descriptions to such events as immediately concerned the important
 personage most interested in this history.

 "Be it known, then, that I was one of a crowd of skirmishers who
 were enabling the French ones to carry the news of their own defeat
 through a thick wood at an infantry canter when I found myself all
 at once within a few yards of one of their regiments in line, which
 opened such a fire that had I not, rifleman-like, taken instant
 advantage of the cover of a good fir-tree, my name would have
 unquestionably been transmitted to posterity by that night's gazette.
 And however opposed it may be to the usual system of drill, I will
 maintain, from that day's experience, that the cleverest method of
 teaching a recruit to stand at attention is to place him behind a
 tree and fire balls at him; as had our late worthy disciplinarian,
 Sir David Dundas himself, been looking on, I think that even he must
 have admitted that he never saw any one stand so fiercely upright as
 I did behind mine, while the balls were rapping into it as fast as
 if a fellow had been hammering a nail on the opposite side, not to
 mention the numbers that were whistling past within the eighth of an
 inch of every part of my body, both before and behind, particularly
 in the vicinity of my nose, for which the upper part of the tree
 could barely afford protection.

 "This was a last and a desperate stand made by their rearguard, for
 their own safety, immediately above the town, as their sole chance
 of escape depended upon their being able to hold the post until the
 only bridge across the river was clear of the other fugitives. But
 they could not hold it long enough; for, while we were undergoing
 a temporary sort of purgatory in their front, our comrades went
 working round their flanks, which quickly sent them flying, with us
 intermixed, at full cry down the streets.

 "When we reached the bridge, the scene became exceedingly
 interesting, for it was choked up by the fugitives, who were, as
 usual, impeding each other's progress, and we did not find that
 the application of our swords to those nearest to us tended at all
 towards lessening their disorder, for it induced about a hundred
 of them to rush into an adjoining house for shelter, but that was
 getting regularly out of the frying-pan into the fire, for the house
 happened to be really in flames, and too hot to hold them, so that
 the same hundred were quickly seen unkennelling again, half-cooked,
 into the very jaws of their consumers.

 "John Bull, however, is not a bloodthirsty person, so that those who
 could not better themselves, had only to submit to a simple transfer
 of personal property to ensure his protection. We, consequently,
 made many prisoners at the bridge, and followed their army about a
 league beyond it, keeping up a flying fight until dark.

 "_March 13._--Arrived on the hill above Condacia in time to see that
 handsome little town in flames. Every species of barbarity continued
 to mark the enemy's retreating steps. They burnt every town or
 village through which they passed, and if we entered a church which,
 by accident, had been spared, it was to see the murdered bodies of
 the peasantry on the altar.

        *       *       *       *       *

 "Our post that night was one of terrific grandeur. The hills behind
 were in a blaze of light with the British camp-fires, as were those
 in our front with the French ones. Both hills were abrupt and lofty,
 not above eight hundred yards asunder, and we were in the burning
 village in the valley beyond. The roofs of houses every instant
 falling in, and the sparks and flames ascending to the clouds.
 The streets were strewed with the dying and the dead,--some had
 been murdered and some killed in action, which, together with the
 half-famished wretches whom we had saved from burning, contributed in
 making it a scene which was well calculated to shake a stout heart,
 as was proved in the instance of one of our sentries, a well-known
 'devil-may-care' sort of fellow. I know not what appearances the
 burning rafters might have reflected on the neighbouring trees at the
 time, but he had not been long on his post before he came running
 into the piquet, and swore, by all the saints in the calendar, that
 he saw six dead Frenchmen advancing upon him with hatchets over their
 shoulders!

 "We found by the buttons on the coats of some of the fallen foe,
 that we had this day been opposed to the French 95th Regiment (the
 same number as we were then), and I cut off several of them, which I
 preserved as trophies."

Here is another picture of a brilliant skirmish at the passage of the
Ceira. In this combat Wellington showed himself keener in vision and
swifter in stroke than Ney, and inflicted on that general both disgrace
and loss. Ney was, as a result, relieved of his command of the French
rearguard, and sent to France under something like a cloud. Here he
joined Napoleon, and took part in the perils and horrors of the Russian
campaign--once more, there, commanding a French rearguard in retreat:--

 "_March 15._--We overtook the enemy a little before dark this
 afternoon. They were drawn up behind the Ceira, at Fez d'Aronce,
 with their rearguard, under Marshal Ney, imprudently posted on
 our side of the river, a circumstance which Lord Wellington took
 immediate advantage of; and, by a furious attack, dislodged them in
 such confusion that they blew up the bridge before half of their own
 people had time to get over. Those who were thereby left behind,
 not choosing to put themselves to the pain of being shot, took to
 the river, which received them so hospitably that few of them ever
 quitted it.

 "About the middle of the action, I observed some inexperienced light
 troops rushing up a deep roadway to certain destruction, and ran to
 warn them out of it, but I only arrived in time to partake the reward
 of their indiscretion, for I was instantly struck with a musket-ball
 above the left ear, which deposited me at full length in the mud.

 "I know not how long I lay insensible, but, on recovering, my first
 feeling was for my head, to ascertain if any part of it was still
 standing, for it appeared to me as if nothing remained above the
 mouth; but, after repeated applications of all my fingers and thumbs
 to the doubtful parts, I at length proved to myself satisfactorily,
 that it had rather increased than diminished by the concussion; and
 jumping on my legs, and hearing, by the whistling of the balls from
 both sides, that the rascals who had got me into the scrape had been
 driven back and left me there, I snatched my cap, which had saved my
 life, and which had been spun off my head to the distance of ten or
 twelve yards, and joined them a short distance in the rear, when one
 of them, a soldier of the 60th, came and told me that an officer of
 ours had been killed a short time before, pointing to the spot where
 I myself had fallen, and that he had tried to take his jacket off,
 but that the advance of the enemy had prevented him. I told him that
 I was the one that had been killed, and that I was deucedly obliged
 to him for his kind intentions, while I felt still more so to the
 enemy for their timely advance, otherwise, I have no doubt, but my
 friend would have taken a fancy to my trousers also, for I found that
 he had absolutely unbuttoned my jacket.

 "There is nothing so gratifying to frail mortality as a good dinner
 when most wanted and least expected. It was perfectly dark before
 the action finished, but, on going to take advantage of the fires
 which the enemy had evacuated, we found their soup kettles in full
 operation, and every man's mess of biscuit lying beside them, in
 stockings, as was the French mode of carrying them; and it is
 needless to say how unceremoniously we proceeded to do the honours of
 the feast. It ever after became a saying among the soldiers, whenever
 they were on short allowance, 'Well d-- my eyes, we must either fall
 in with the French or the commissary to-day, I don't care which.'

 "_March 19._--We, this day, captured the aide-de-camp of General
 Loison, together with his wife, who was dressed in a splendid hussar
 uniform. He was a Portuguese, and a traitor, and looked very like a
 man who would be hanged. She was a Spaniard, and very handsome, and
 looked very like a woman who would get married again.

 "_March 20._--We had now been three days without anything in the
 shape of bread, and meat without it after a time becomes almost
 loathsome. Hearing that we were not likely to march quite so early
 as usual this morning, I started before daylight to a village about
 two miles off, in the face of the Sierra d'Estrella, in the hopes
 of being able to purchase something, as it lay out of the hostile
 line of movements. On my arrival there, I found some nuns who had
 fled from a neighbouring convent, waiting outside the building of
 the village oven for some Indian-corn leaven, which they had carried
 there to be baked, and, when I explained my pressing wants, two of
 them, very kindly, transferred me their shares, for which I gave
 each a kiss and a dollar between. They took the former as an unusual
 favour; but looked at the latter, as much as to say, 'Our poverty,
 and not our will, consents.' I ran off with my half-baked dough, and
 joined my comrades, just as they were getting under arms.

 "_March 31._--At daylight, this morning, we moved to our right, along
 the ridge of mountains, to Guarda; on our arrival there, we saw the
 imposing spectacle of the whole of the French army winding through
 the valley below, just out of gunshot. On taking possession of one of
 the villages which they had just evacuated, we found the body of a
 well-dressed female, whom they had murdered by a horrible refinement
 in cruelty. She had been placed upon her back, alive, in the middle
 of the street, with the fragment of a rock upon her breast, which it
 required four of our men to remove.

 "_April 1._--We overtook the enemy this afternoon in position behind
 Coa, at Sabugal, with their advanced posts on our side of the river.
 I was sent on piquet for the night, and had my sentries within half
 musket-shot of theirs; it was wet, dark, and stormy when I went,
 about midnight, to visit them, and I was not a little annoyed to find
 one missing. Recollecting who he was, a steady old soldier, and the
 last man in the world to desert his post, I called his name aloud,
 when his answering voice, followed by the discharge of a musket,
 reached me nearly at the same time, from the direction of one of the
 French sentries; and, after some inquiry, I found that, in walking
 his lonely round, in a brown study, no doubt, he had each turn taken
 ten or twelve paces to his front, and only half that number to the
 rear, until he had gradually worked himself up to within a few yards
 of his adversary; and it would be difficult to say which of the two
 was most astonished--the one at hearing a voice, or the other a shot
 so near, but all my rhetoric, aided by the testimony of the sergeant
 and the other sentries, could not convince the fellow that he was not
 on the identical spot on which I had posted him."

On April 3, 1811, was fought the battle of Sabugal, which is told
elsewhere. We take up Kincaid's sketches of a soldier's bivouac and
marching experiences after Fuentes, during the pause while Ciudad
Rodrigo was being blockaded:--

 "Our battalion occupied Atalya, a little village at the foot of
 the Sierra de Gata, and in front of the river Vadilla. On taking
 possession of my quarter, the people showed me an outhouse, which,
 they said, I might use as a stable, and I took my horse into it,
 but, seeing the floor strewed with what appeared to be a small brown
 seed, heaps of which lay in each corner, as if shovelled together in
 readiness to take to market, I took up a handful, out of curiosity,
 and truly, they were a curiosity, for I found that they were all
 regular fleas, and that they were proceeding to eat both me and my
 horse, without the smallest ceremony. I rushed out of the place, and
 knocked them down by fistfuls, and never yet could comprehend the
 cause of their congregating together in such a place."

Marmont, who now commanded the French army, charged with the defence
of Ciudad Rodrigo, advanced, towards the end of September, for its
relief, and Wellington at once fell back. Kincaid's cheerful spirits
can extract fun out of even a night march and a retreat!

 "About the middle of the night we received an order to stand to our
 arms with as little noise as possible, and to commence retiring,
 the rest of the army having been already withdrawn, unknown to us;
 an instance of the rapidity and uncertainty of our movements which
 proved fatal to the liberty of several amateurs and followers of
 the army, who, seeing an army of sixty thousand men lying asleep
 around their camp-fires, at ten o'clock at night, naturally concluded
 that they might safely indulge in a bed in the village behind until
 daylight, without the risk of being caught napping; but, long ere
 that time they found themselves on the high-road to Ciudad Rodrigo,
 in the rude grasp of an enemy. Amongst others, was the chaplain of
 our division, whose outward man conveyed no very exalted notion
 of the respectability of his profession, and who was treated with
 greater indignity than usually fell to the lot of prisoners, for,
 after keeping him a couple of days, and finding that, however gifted
 he might have been in spiritual lore, he was as ignorant as Dominie
 Sampson on military matters; and, conceiving good provisions to be
 thrown away upon him, they stripped him nearly naked and dismissed
 him, like the barber in 'Gil Blas,' with a kick in the breech, and
 sent him into us in a woeful state.

 "In every interval between our active services we indulged in all
 manner of childish trick and amusement with an avidity and delight of
 which it is impossible to convey an adequate idea. We lived united,
 as men always are who are daily staring death in the face on the same
 side, and who, caring little about it, look upon each new day added
 to their lives as one more to rejoice in.

 "We invited the villagers every evening to a dance at our quarters
 alternately. A Spanish peasant girl has an address about her which I
 have never met with in the same class of any other country; and she
 at once enters into society with the ease and confidence of one who
 had been accustomed to it all her life. We used to flourish away at
 the bolero, fandango, and waltz, and wound up early in the evening
 with a supper of roasted chestnuts.

 "Our village belles, as already stated, made themselves perfectly at
 home in our society, and we, too, should have enjoyed theirs for a
 season; but when month after month and year after year continued to
 roll along, without producing any change, we found that the cherry
 cheek and sparkling eye of rustic beauty furnished but a very poor
 apology for the illuminated portion of Nature's fairest works, and
 ardently longed for an opportunity of once more feasting our eyes on
 a lady."

After the glory of Salamanca came, by way of anti-climax, the
inglorious failure at Burgos. Kincaid's battalion took part in the
toils and suffering of the retreat from Burgos. There is no note of
grumbling in his tale. Yet seldom has an army suffered more than
during those bitter November days, when Wellington's soldiers, with
the discouraging memory of the failure at Burgos chilling their
imaginations, toiled in retreat along muddy roads, across swollen
rivers, through blinding and incessant rain, almost without food; while
fiercely on their rear hung the pursuing French cavalry. Wellington
made a brief halt on November 14 at Salamanca, and we take up Kincaid's
story at this point:--

 "_November 7._--Halted this night at Alba de Tormes, and next day
 marched into quarters in Salamanca, where we rejoined Lord Wellington
 with the army from Burgos.

 "On the 14th the British army concentrated on the field of their
 former glory, in consequence of a part of the French army having
 effected the passage of the river above Alba de Tormes. On the 15th
 the whole of the enemy's force having passed the river a cannonade
 commenced early in the day; and it was the general belief that, ere
 night, a second battle of Salamanca would be recorded. But as all the
 French armies in Spain were now united in our front, and outnumbered
 us so far, Lord Wellington, seeing no decided advantage to be gained
 by risking a battle, at length ordered a retreat, which we commenced
 about three in the afternoon. Our division halted for the night at
 the entrance of a forest about four miles from Salamanca.

 "The heavy rains which usually precede the Spanish winter had set in
 the day before; and as the roads in that part of the country cease to
 be roads for the remainder of the season, we were now walking nearly
 knee-deep in a stiff mud, into which no man could thrust his foot
 with the certainty of having a shoe at the end of it when he pulled
 it out again; and that we might not be miserable by halves, we had
 this evening to regale our chops with the last morsel of biscuit that
 they were destined to grind during the retreat.

 "We cut some boughs of trees to keep us out of the mud, and lay
 down to sleep on them, wet to the skin; but the cannonade of the
 afternoon had been succeeded after dark by a continued firing of
 musketry, which led us to believe that our piquets were attacked,
 and, in momentary expectation of an order to stand to our arms, we
 kept ourselves awake the whole night, and were not a little provoked
 when we found next morning that it had been occasioned by numerous
 stragglers from the different regiments shooting at the pigs
 belonging to the peasantry, which were grazing in the wood.

 "_November 16._--Retiring from daylight until dark through the same
 description of roads. The French dragoons kept close behind, but did
 not attempt to molest us. It still continued to rain hard, and we
 again passed the night in a wood. I was very industriously employed
 during the early part of it feeling, in the dark, for acorns as a
 substitute for bread.

 "_November 17._--We were much surprised in the course of the forenoon
 to hear a sharp firing commence behind us on the very road by which
 we were retiring; and it was not until we reached the spot that we
 learnt that the troops, who were retreating by a road parallel to
 ours, had left it too soon, and enabled some French dragoons, under
 cover of the forest, to advance unperceived to the flank of our line
 of march, who, seeing an interval between two divisions of infantry,
 which was filled with light baggage and some passing officers, dashed
 at it and made some prisoners in the scramble of the moment, amongst
 whom was Lieutenant-General Sir Edward Paget.

 "Our division formed on the heights above Samunoz to cover the
 passage of the rivulet, which was so swollen with the heavy rains,
 as only to be passable at particular fords. While we waited there
 for the passage of the rest of the army, the enemy, under cover of
 the forest, was, at the same time, assembling in force close around
 us; and the moment that we began to descend the hill, towards the
 rivulet, we were assailed by a heavy fire of cannon and musketry,
 while their powerful cavalry were in readiness to take advantage of
 any confusion which might have occurred. We effected the passage,
 however, in excellent order, and formed on the opposite bank of the
 stream, where we continued under a cannonade and engaged in a sharp
 skirmish until dark.

 "When the firing ceased, we received the usual order 'to make
 ourselves comfortable for the night,' and I never remember an
 instance in which we had so much difficulty in obeying it; for the
 ground we occupied was a perfect flat, which was flooded more than
 ankle-deep with water, excepting here and there, where the higher
 ground around the roots of trees presented circles of a few feet of
 visible earth, upon which we grouped ourselves. Some few fires were
 kindled, at which we roasted some bits of raw beef on the points of
 our swords, and ate them by way of a dinner. There was plenty of
 water to apologise for the want of better fluids, but bread sent no
 apology at all.

 "It made my very heart rejoice to see my brigadier's servant commence
 boiling some chocolate and frying a beef-steak. I watched its
 progress with a keenness which intense hunger alone could inspire,
 and was on the very point of having my desires consummated, when the
 general, getting uneasy at not having received any communication
 relative to the movements of the morning, and, without considering
 how feelingly my stomach yearned for a better acquaintance with the
 contents of his frying-pan, desired me to ride to General Alten
 for orders. I found the general at a neighbouring tree; but he cut
 off all hopes of my timely return, by desiring me to remain with
 him until he received the report of an officer whom he had sent to
 ascertain the progress of the other divisions.

 "While I was toasting myself at his fire, so sharply set that I could
 have eaten one of my boots, I observed his German orderly dragoon
 at an adjoining fire stirring up the contents of a camp-kettle,
 that once more revived my departing hopes, and I presently had the
 satisfaction of seeing him dipping in some basins, presenting one to
 the general, one to the aide-de-camp, and a third to myself. The mess
 which it contained I found, after swallowing the whole at a draught,
 was neither more nor less than the produce of a piece of beef boiled
 in plain water; and though it would have been enough to have
 physicked a dromedary at any other time, yet, as I could then have
 made a good hole in the dromedary himself, it sufficiently satisfied
 my cravings to make me equal to anything for the remainder of the day.

 "On November 19 we arrived at the convent of Caridad, near Ciudad
 Rodrigo, and once more experienced the comforts of our baggage and
 provisions. My boots had not been off since the 13th, and I found it
 necessary to cut them to pieces to get my swollen feet out of them.

 "Up to this period Lord Wellington had been adored by the army, in
 consideration of his brilliant achievements, and for his noble and
 manly bearing in all things; but, in consequence of some disgraceful
 irregularities which took place during the retreat, he immediately
 after issued an order conveying a sweeping censure on the whole army.
 His general conduct was too upright for even the finger of malice
 itself to point at; but as his censure on this occasion was not
 strictly confined to the guilty, it afforded a handle to disappointed
 persons, and excited a feeling against him on the part of individuals
 which has probably never since been obliterated.

 "It began by telling us that we had suffered no privations; and,
 though this was hard to be digested on an empty stomach, yet, taking
 it in its more liberal meaning, that our privations were not of an
 extent to justify any irregularities, which I readily admit; still,
 as many regiments were not guilty of any irregularities, it is not
 to be wondered if such should have felt at first a little sulky to
 find, in the general reproof, that no loop-hole whatever had been
 left for them to creep through; for, I believe I am justified in
 saying that neither our own, nor the two gallant corps associated
 with us, had a single man absent that we could not satisfactorily
 account for. But it touched us still more tenderly in not excepting
 us from his general charge of inexpertness in camp arrangements;
 for it was our belief, and in which we were in some measure borne
 out by circumstances, that had he placed us at the same moment in
 the same field with an equal number of the best troops in France,
 that he would not only have seen our fires as quickly lit, but every
 Frenchman roasting on them to the bargain, if they waited long enough
 to be dressed, for there perhaps never was, nor ever again will be,
 such a war-brigade as that which was composed of the 43rd, 52nd, and
 the Rifles."

1812 found the Rifles once more taking part in marches which taxed the
endurance of the soldiers to the uttermost; but this time the temper of
the troops was gay and exultant in the highest degree. They were taking
part in the great movement which thrust the French back to Vittoria.
The elation of coming and assured victory was in the soldiers' blood.
The Rifles, after days of toilsome marches through wild and mountainous
country, at last reached the fruitful valley of the Ebro. Here is a
pleasant campaign scene:--

 "We started at daylight on June 15, through a dreary region of solid
 rock, bearing an abundant crop of loose stones, without a particle
 of soil or vegetation visible to the naked eye in any direction.
 After leaving nearly twenty miles of this horrible wilderness behind
 us, our weary minds clogged with an imaginary view of nearly as much
 more of it in our front, we found ourselves all at once looking down
 upon the valley of the Ebro, near the village of Arenas, one of the
 richest, loveliest, and most romantic spots that I ever beheld. The
 influence of such a scene on the mind can scarcely be believed. Five
 minutes before we were all as lively as stones. In a moment we were
 all fruits and flowers; and many a pair of legs, that one would have
 thought had not a kick left in them, were, in five minutes after,
 seen dancing across the bridge to the tune of 'The Downfall of
 Paris,' which struck up from the bands of the different regiments.

 "I lay down that night in a cottage garden, with my head on a melon,
 and my eye on a cherry-tree, and resigned myself to a repose which
 did not require a long courtship.

 "We resumed our march at daybreak on the 16th. The road, in the
 first instance, wound through orchards and luxurious gardens,
 and then closed in to the edge of the river, through a difficult
 and formidable pass, where the rocks on each side, arising to a
 prodigious height, hung over each other in fearful grandeur, and in
 many places nearly met together over our heads.

 "After following the course of the river for nearly two miles, the
 rocks on each side gradually expanded into another valley, lovely as
 the one we had left, and where we found the fifth division of our
 army lying encamped. They were still asleep; and the rising sun, and
 a beautiful morning, gave additional sublimity to the scene; for
 there was nothing but the tops of the white tents peeping above the
 fruit trees; and an occasional sentinel pacing his post, that gave
 any indication of what a nest of hornets the blast of a bugle could
 bring out of that apparently peaceful solitude.

 "We were welcomed into every town or village through which we passed
 by the peasant girls, who were in the habit of meeting us with
 garlands of flowers, and dancing before us in a peculiar style of
 their own; and it not unfrequently happened, that while they were
 so employed with one regiment, the preceding one was diligently
 engaged in pulling down some of their houses for firewood, a measure
 which we were sometimes obliged to have recourse to, where no other
 fuel could be had, and for which they were ultimately paid by the
 British Government; but it was a measure that was more likely to have
 set the poor souls dancing mad than for joy, had they foreseen the
 consequences of our visit."

At this stage the march brought the British into actual contact with
the enemy, and there ensued much brisk skirmishing, in which the Rifles
found huge enjoyment:--

 "On the morning of the 18th, we were ordered to march to San Milan, a
 small town, about two leagues off; and where, on our arrival on the
 hill above it, we found a division of French infantry, as strong as
 ourselves, in the act of crossing our path. The surprise, I believe,
 was mutual, though I doubt whether the pleasure was equally so; for
 we were red-hot for an opportunity of retaliating for the Salamanca
 retreat; and, as the old saying goes, 'There is no opportunity
 like the present.' Their leading brigade had nearly passed before
 we came up, but not a moment was lost after we did. Our battalion
 dispersing among the brushwood, went down the hill upon them; and,
 with a destructive fire, broke through their line of march, supported
 by the rest of the brigade. Those that had passed made no attempt
 at a stand, but continued their flight, keeping up as good a fire
 as their circumstances would permit; while we kept hanging on their
 flank and rear, through a good rifle country, which enabled us to
 make considerable havoc among them. Their general's aide-de-camp,
 amongst others, was mortally wounded; and a lady, on a white horse,
 who probably was his wife, remained beside him, until we came very
 near. She appeared to be in great distress; but, though we called to
 her to remain, and not to be alarmed, yet she galloped off as soon as
 a decided step became necessary. The object of her solicitude did not
 survive many minutes after we reached him."




CHAPTER III

SOME FAMOUS BATTLES


Kincaid shared in all the bloody fights of the Peninsula, from Sabugal
to Toulouse. His descriptions of these fights are hasty and planless;
they give no hint of the strategy behind them or of the results which
followed them. But they are always vivid, racy, and rich in personal
incident, and we give in this chapter some transcripts from them.

Sabugal was the last combat fought on Portuguese soil in Massena's
sullen retreat from the lines of Torres Vedras. Massena was never so
dangerous as in retreat, and Ney, with all his fiery valour, commanded
his rearguard. The French, too, were in a mood of almost reckless
savagery, and they greatly exceeded in numbers the force pursuing
them. It may be imagined, then, what an incessant splutter of fierce
and angry skirmishes raged betwixt Wellington's advance-guard and the
French rear. Yet the veterans on both sides maintained a singularly
cool and business-like attitude towards each other, an attitude not
unflavoured with gleams of unprofessional friendliness. Thus as the
French were falling back after the disastrous fight at Redinha, night
fell while the skirmishers of the Rifles were still eagerly pressing
on the tired French rearguard. The officer commanding the French
suddenly held up his sword in the grey dusk with a white handkerchief
tied to it. An officer of the Rifles went forward to parley, when the
Frenchman explained that he thought both sides needed a rest after a
hard day's work. To this the officers of the Rifles cheerfully agreed,
and politely invited the Frenchman and his subalterns to share their
rations. This proposal was accepted; the French and English officers
sat merrily round a common fire, and shared a common meal; then parted,
and before daybreak became pursuers and pursued again!

Sabugal was described by Wellington himself as "one of the most
glorious actions British troops ever engaged in"; but it was little
better than a gallant blunder. The day was one of drifting fog and
blinding rain. Wellington's plan was with three divisions--a force
10,000 strong--to envelop and crush Massena's left wing, commanded
by Regnier, but Erskine, who commanded the Light Division, failed to
understand his orders, wandered off with his cavalry in the fog, and
left Beckwith with four companies of the Rifles and the 43rd lying
sheltered near the ford across the Coa. When Wellington's general
attack was developed, Beckwith was to cross the river and attack. A
staff officer stumbled upon him early in the day, before the other
troops had moved, and demanded, with a note of anger in his voice, why
he did not attack? Beckwith instantly led his men across the stream,
and with one bayonet battalion and four companies of Rifles, proceeded
to attack 12,000 French infantry supported by cavalry and guns! And
in a combat so strange, against chances so apparently hopeless, the
handful of British won! Here is Kincaid's story:--

 "_April 3, 1811._--Early this morning our division moved still
 farther to its right, and our brigade led the way across a ford,
 which took us up to the middle; while the balls from the enemy's
 advanced posts were hissing in the water around us, we drove in their
 light troops and commenced a furious assault upon their main body.
 Thus far all was right; but a thick, drizzling rain now came on, in
 consequence of which the third division, which was to have made a
 simultaneous attack to our left, missed their way, and a brigade of
 dragoons, under Sir William Erskine, who were to have covered our
 right, went the Lord knows where, but certainly not into the fight,
 although they started at the same time that we did, and had the
 'music' of our rifles to guide them; and even the second brigade of
 our division could not afford us any support for nearly an hour, so
 that we were thus unconsciously left with about fifteen hundred men,
 in the very impertinent attempt to carry a formidable position on
 which stood as many thousands.

 "The weather, which had deprived us of the aid of our friends,
 favoured us so far as to prevent the enemy from seeing the amount
 of our paltry force; and the conduct of our gallant fellows, led on
 by Sir Sidney Beckwith, was so truly heroic, that, incredible as it
 may seem, we had the best of the fight throughout. Our first attack
 was met by such overwhelming numbers, that we were forced back and
 followed by three heavy columns, before which we retired slowly, and
 keeping up a destructive fire, to the nearest rising ground, where
 we re-formed and instantly charged their advancing masses, sending
 them flying at the point of the bayonet, and entering their position
 along with them, where we were assailed by fresh forces. Three
 times did the very same thing occur. In our third attempt we got
 possession of one of their howitzers, for which a desperate struggle
 was making, when we were at the same moment charged by infantry in
 front and cavalry on the right, and again compelled to fall back;
 but, fortunately at this moment we were reinforced by the arrival of
 the second brigade, and with their aid we once more stormed their
 position and secured the well-earned howitzer, while the third
 division came at the same time upon their flank, and they were driven
 from the field in the greatest disorder.

 "Lord Wellington's despatch on this occasion did ample justice to
 Sir Sidney Beckwith and his brave brigade. Never were troops more
 judiciously or more gallantly led. Never was a leader more devotedly
 followed.

 "In the course of the action a man of the name of Knight fell dead at
 my feet, and though I heard a musket ball strike him, I could neither
 find blood nor wound. There was a little spaniel belonging to one of
 our officers running about the whole time, barking at the balls, and
 I saw him once smelling at a live shell, which exploded in his face
 without hurting him."

It may be added that, when the fight was over, round that fiercely
disputed howitzer 300 dead bodies were found piled!

An amusing instance of the cool and business-like temper with which
the veterans of the Rifles fought occurred in this combat. A rifleman
named Flinn had covered a Frenchman, and was in the act of drawing the
trigger, when a hare leaped out of the fern in front of him. Flinn
found this game more tempting; he took quick aim at it, and shot it.
His officer rebuked him when the fight was over for that wasted shot.
"Sure, your honour," was his reply, "we can kill a Frenchman any day,
but it isn't always I can bag a hare for your supper."

On May 3, 1811, began the confused manœuvring and fierce combats,
stretching through two days, known as the battle of Fuentes d'Onore.
In the middle of the fight Wellington had to change his front, swing
his right wing back across the open plain--then in possession of the
triumphant French cavalry--to a ridge at right angles to his former
front. The Light Division formed part of the force executing this
movement. It was formed in three squares, flanking each other. Masses
of French cavalry eddied furiously round them as they marched. But the
stern and disciplined ranks of the Light Division never wavered. They
moved, says Napier, "in the most majestic manner"; and, he adds, that
"all the cavalry that ever charged under Tamerlane or Genghis Khan
would have failed to break their lines." Kincaid's account is graphic,
and betrays no consciousness of the exceptional nature of the deed
performed by his division:--

 "_May 5, 1811._--The day began to dawn, this fine May morning, with a
 rattling fire of musketry on the extreme right of our position, which
 the enemy had attacked, and to which point our division was rapidly
 moved.

 "Our battalion was thrown into a wood, a little to the left and
 front of the division engaged, and was instantly warmly opposed to
 the French skirmishers; in the course of which I was struck with a
 musket ball on the left breast, which made me stagger a yard or two
 backward, and, as I felt no pain, I concluded that I was dangerously
 wounded; but it turned out to be owing to my not being hurt. While
 our operations here were confined to a tame skirmish, and our view
 to the oaks with which we were mingled, we found, by the evidence of
 our ears, that the division which we had come to support was involved
 in a more serious onset, for there was a successive rattle of
 artillery, the wild hurrah of charging squadrons, and the repulsing
 volley of musketry; until Lord Wellington, finding his right too much
 extended, directed that division to fall back behind the small river
 Touronne, and ours to join the main body of the army. The execution
 of our movement presented a magnificent military spectacle, as the
 plain between us and the right of the army, was by this time in
 possession of the French cavalry, and, while we were retiring through
 it with the order and precision of a common field-day, they kept
 dancing around us, and every instant threatening a charge, without
 daring to execute it.

 "We took up our new position at a right angle with the then right of
 the British line, on which our left rested, and with our right on
 the Touronne. The enemy followed our movement with a heavy column of
 infantry; but, when they came near enough to exchange shots, they
 did not seem to like our looks, as we occupied a low ridge of broken
 rocks, against which even a rat could scarcely have hoped to advance
 alive; and they again fell back, and opened a tremendous fire of
 artillery, which was returned by a battery of our guns.

 "The battle continued to rage with fury in and about the village,
 while we were lying by our arms under a burning hot sun, some stray
 cannon-shot passing over and about us, whose progress we watched
 for want of other employment. One of them bounded along in the
 direction of an 'amateur,' whom we had for some time been observing,
 securely placed, as he imagined, behind a piece of rock, which stood
 about five feet above the ground, and over which nothing but his
 head was shown, sheltered from the sun by an umbrella. The shot
 in question touched the ground three or four times between us and
 him; he saw it coming--lowered his umbrella, and withdrew his head.
 Its expiring bound carried it into the very spot where he had that
 instant disappeared. I hope he was not hurt; but the thing looked so
 ridiculous that it excited a shout of laughter, and we saw no more of
 him.

 "A little before dusk, in the evening, our battalion was ordered
 forward to relieve the troops engaged in the village, part of which
 still remained in possession of the enemy, and I saw, by the mixed
 nature of the dead, in every part of the streets, that it had been
 successively in possession of both sides. The firing ceased with
 the daylight, and I was sent, with a section of men, in charge of
 one of the streets for the night. There was a wounded sergeant of
 Highlanders lying on my post. A ball had passed through the back
 part of his head, from which the brain was oozing, and his only
 sign of life was a convulsive hiccough every two or three seconds.
 I sent for a medical friend to look at him, who told me that he
 could not survive; I then got a mattress from the nearest house,
 placed the poor fellow on it, and made use of one corner as a pillow
 for myself, on which, after the fatigues of the day, and though
 called occasionally to visit my sentries, I slept most soundly. The
 Highlander died in the course of the night.

 "When we stood to our arms at daybreak next morning, we found the
 enemy busy throwing up a six-gun battery immediately in front of
 our company's post, and we immediately set to work, with our whole
 hearts and souls, and placed a wall, about twelve feet thick, between
 us, which, no doubt, still remains there in the same garden, as
 a monument of what can be effected in a few minutes by a hundred
 modern men, when their personal safety is concerned, not but that the
 proprietor, in the midst of his admiration, would rather see a good
 bed of garlic on the spot manured with the bodies of the architects.

 "When the sun began to shine on the pacific disposition of the enemy,
 we proceeded to consign the dead to their last earthly mansions,
 giving every Englishman a grave to himself, and putting as many
 Frenchmen into one as it could conveniently accommodate. Whilst in
 the superintendence of this melancholy duty, and ruminating on the
 words of the poet:--

'There's not a form of all that lie
  Thus ghastly, wild and bare,
Tost, bleeding, in the stormy sky,
  Black in the burning air,
But to his knee some infant clung,
But on his heart some fond heart hung!'

 "I was grieved to think that the souls of deceased warriors should be
 so selfish as to take to flight in their regimentals, for I never saw
 the body of one with a rag on after battle.

 "The day after one of those negative sort of victories is always one
 of intense interest. The movements on each side are most jealously
 watched, and each side is diligently occupied in strengthening such
 points as the fight of the preceding day had proved to be the most
 vulnerable. They had made a few prisoners, chiefly Guardsmen and
 Highlanders, whom they marched past the front of our position, in
 the most ostentatious way, on the forenoon of the 6th; and, the day
 following, a number of their regiments were paraded in the most
 imposing manner for review. They looked uncommonly well, and we
 were proud to think that we had beaten such fine-looking fellows so
 lately!"

In the tangled and hurried marches which preceded the battle of
Salamanca, the Rifles took, of course, an active part. They were
probably the quickest-footed and most hardy regiment under Wellington's
command. But in the great battle itself Kincaid's battalion played a
small part, being held in reserve. Kincaid's account is both amusing
and interesting:--

 "Hitherto we had been fighting the description of battle in which
 John Bull glories so much--gaining a brilliant and useless victory
 against great odds. But we were now about to contend for fame on
 equal terms; and, having tried both, I will say, without partiality,
 that I would rather fight one man than two any day; for I have
 never been quite satisfied that the additional quantum of glory
 altogether compensated for the proportionate loss of substance; a
 victory of that kind being a doubtful and most unsatisfactory one to
 the performers, with each occupying the same ground after that they
 did before; and the whole merit resting with the side which did not
 happen to begin it.

 "Marmont came down upon us the first night with a thundering
 cannonade, and placed his army _en masse_ on the plain before us,
 almost within gunshot. I was told that, while Lord Wellington was
 riding along the line, under a fire of artillery, and accompanied by
 a numerous staff, a brace of greyhounds in pursuit of a hare passed
 close to him. He was at the moment in earnest conversation with
 General Castanos; but the instant he observed them he gave the view
 hallo and went after them at full speed, to the utter astonishment
 of his foreign accompaniments. Nor did he stop until he saw the hare
 killed; when he returned and resumed the commander-in-chief as if
 nothing had occurred.

 "I was sent on piquet on the evening of the 19th, to watch a portion
 of the plain before us; and, soon after sunrise on the following
 morning, a cannonade commenced behind a hill to my right; and though
 the combatants were not visible, it was evident that they were not
 dealing in blank-cartridge, as mine happened to be the pitching-post
 of all the enemy's round shot. While I was attentively watching its
 progress, there arose all at once, behind the rising ground to my
 left, a yell of the most terrific import; and, convinced that it
 would give instantaneous birth to as hideous a body, it made me look
 with an eye of lightning at the ground around me; and, seeing a broad
 deep ditch within a hundred yards, I lost not a moment in placing
 it between my piquet and the extraordinary sound. I had scarcely
 effected the movement when Lord Wellington, with his staff, and a
 cloud of French and English dragoons and horse artillery intermixed,
 came over the hill at full cry, and all hammering at each other's
 heads, in one confused mass over the very ground I had that instant
 quitted. It appeared that his lordship had gone there to reconnoitre,
 covered by two guns and two squadrons of cavalry, who by some
 accident were surprised and charged by a superior body of the enemy,
 and sent tumbling in upon us in the manner described.

 "A piquet of the 43rd had formed on our right, and we were obliged
 to remain passive spectators of such an extraordinary scene going
 on within a few yards of us, as we could not fire without an equal
 chance of shooting some of our own side. Lord Wellington and his
 staff, with the two guns, took shelter for a moment behind us, while
 the cavalry went sweeping along our front, where, I suppose, they
 picked up some reinforcement, for they returned almost instantly in
 the same confused mass; but the French were now the fliers; and, I
 must do them the justice to say, that they got off in a manner highly
 creditable to themselves. I saw one, in particular, defending himself
 against two of ours; and he would have made his escape from both, but
 an officer of our dragoons came down the hill, and took him in the
 flank at full speed, sending man and horse rolling headlong on the
 plain.

 "I was highly interested all this time in observing the distinguished
 characters which this unlooked-for turn-up had assembled around us.
 Marshal Beresford and the greater part of the staff remained with
 their swords drawn, and the Duke himself did not look more than
 half-pleased, while he silently despatched some of them with orders.
 General Alten and his huge German orderly dragoon, with their swords
 drawn, cursed the whole time to a very large amount; but, as it was
 in German, I had not the full benefit of it. He had an opposition
 swearer in Captain Jenkinson of the artillery, who commanded the
 two guns, and whose oaths were chiefly aimed at himself for his
 folly, as far as I could understand, in putting so much confidence
 in his covering party, that he had not thought it necessary to unfix
 the catch which horse-artillerymen, I believe, had to prevent their
 swords quitting the scabbards when they are not wanted, and which
 on this occasion prevented their jumping forth when they were so
 unexpectedly called for.

 "The straggling enemy had scarcely cleared away from our front when
 Lord Combermere came from the right with a reinforcement of cavalry;
 and our piquet was at the same moment ordered to join the battalion.

 "The movements which followed presented the most beautiful military
 spectacle imaginable. The enemy were endeavouring to turn our left;
 and, in making a counteracting movement, the two armies were marching
 in parallel lines close to each other on a perfect plain, each ready
 to take advantage of any opening of the other, and exchanging round
 shot as they moved along. Our division brought up the rear of the
 infantry, marching with the order and precision of a field-day, in
 open column of companies, and in perfect readiness to receive the
 enemy in any shape, who, on their part, had a huge cavalry force
 close at hand and equally ready to pounce upon us.

 "_July 22._--A sharp fire of musketry commenced at daylight in the
 morning; but as it did not immediately concern us and was nothing
 unusual we took no notice of it, but busied ourselves in getting our
 arms and our bodies disengaged from the rust and the wet engendered
 by the storm of the past night. About ten o'clock our division was
 ordered to stand to their arms. The enemy were to be seen in motion
 on the opposite ridges, and a straggling fire of musketry, with
 an occasional gun, acted as a sort of prelude to the approaching
 conflict. We heard, about this time, that Marmont had just sent to
 his _ci-devant_ landlord in Salamanca to desire that he would have
 the usual dinner ready for himself and staff at six o'clock; and so
 satisfied was 'mine host' of the infallibility of the French Marshal,
 that he absolutely set about making the necessary preparations.

 "There assuredly never was an army so anxious as ours was to be
 brought into action on this occasion. They were a magnificent body
 of well-tried soldiers, highly equipped, and in the highest health
 and spirits, with the most devoted confidence in their leader, and
 an invincible confidence in themselves. The retreat of the four
 preceding days had annoyed us beyond measure, for we believed that we
 were nearly equal to the enemy in point of numbers, and the idea of
 our retiring before an equal number of any troops in the world was
 not to be endured with common patience.

 "We were kept the whole of the forenoon in the most torturing state
 of suspense through contradictory reports. One passing officer
 telling us that he had just heard the order given to attack, and
 the next asserting with equal confidence that he had just heard the
 order to retreat; and it was not until about two o'clock in the
 afternoon that affairs began to wear a more decided aspect; and when
 our own eyes and ears at length conveyed the wished-for tidings that
 a battle was inevitable, for we saw the enemy beginning to close
 upon our right, and the cannonade had become general along the whole
 line. Lord Wellington about the same time ordered the movement which
 decided the fate of the day--that of bringing the third division from
 beyond the river on our left rapidly to our extreme right, turning
 the enemy in their attempt to turn us, and commencing the offensive
 with the whole of his right wing.

 "The effect was instantaneous and decisive, for although some
 obstinate and desperate fighting took place in the centre, with
 various success, yet the victory was never for a moment in doubt,
 and the enemy were soon in full retreat, leaving seven thousand
 prisoners, two eagles, and eleven pieces of artillery in our
 hands. Had we been favoured with two hours' more daylight, their
 loss would have been incalculable, for they committed a blunder at
 starting which they never got time to retrieve, and their retreat was
 therefore commenced in such disorder, and with a river in their rear,
 that nothing but darkness could have saved them.

 "The third division, under Sir Edward Pakenham, the artillery, and
 some regiments of dragoons, particularly distinguished themselves.
 But our division, very much to our annoyance, came in for a very
 slender portion of this day's glory. We were exposed to a cannonade
 the whole of the afternoon, but, as we were not permitted to advance
 until very late, we had only an opportunity of throwing a few
 straggling shot at the fugitives before we lost sight of them in the
 dark, and then bivouacked for the night near the village of Huerta (I
 think it was called).

 "We started after them at daylight next morning, and crossing at a
 ford of the Tormes we found their rearguard, consisting of three
 regiments of infantry, with some cavalry and artillery, posted on
 a formidable height above the village of Serna. General Bock, with
 his brigade of heavy German dragoons, immediately went at them, and
 putting their cavalry to flight, he broke through their infantry, and
 took or destroyed the whole of them. This was one of the most gallant
 charges recorded in history. I saw many of these fine fellows lying
 dead along with their horses, on which they were still astride, with
 the sword firmly grasped in the hand, as they had fought the instant
 before, and several of them still wearing a look of fierce defiance,
 which death itself had been unable to quench."

In the mountain march which turned the French right, and drove Joseph's
whole army, burdened with the plunder of a kingdom, back into the
fatal valley of Vittoria, the Rifles had a full share. In the actual
fighting of June 21, 1813, their part was brilliant. They fired the
first shot in the fight; they were first across the river; they were
first up the central hill of Arinez, where the fury of the great
battle culminated; and they captured the first gun taken. Barnard's
daring advance with his riflemen really enabled the third and seventh
divisions to carry the bridge of Mendoza. Barnard opened so cruel a
flank fire on the French guns and infantry guarding the bridge that
they fell back in confusion, and the British crossed practically
without confusion. It is needless to add that the hardy and active
Rifles led in the pursuit of the defeated French far into the night
after the battle, and early on the succeeding day:--

 "_June 21, 1813._--Our division got under arms this morning before
 daylight, passed the base of the mountain by its left, through the
 camp of the fourth division, who were still asleep in their tents,
 to the banks of the river Zadora, at the village of Tres Puentes.
 The opposite side of the river was occupied by the enemy's advanced
 posts, and we saw their army on the hills beyond, while the spires of
 Vittoria were visible in the distance. We felt as if there was likely
 to be a battle; but as that was an event we were never sure of until
 we found ourselves actually in it, we lay for some time just out of
 musket-shot, uncertain what was likely to turn up, and waiting for
 orders. At length a sharp fire of musketry was heard to our right,
 and on looking in that direction we saw the head of Sir Rowland
 Hill's corps, together with some Spanish troops, attempting to force
 the mountain which marked the enemy's left. The three battalions of
 our regiment were, at the same moment, ordered forward to feel the
 enemy, who lined the opposite banks of the river, with whom we were
 quickly engaged in a warm skirmish. The affair with Sir Rowland Hill
 became gradually warmer, but ours had apparently no other object than
 to amuse those who were opposite to us for the moment, so that for
 about two hours longer it seemed as if there would be nothing but an
 affair of outposts.

 "About twelve o'clock, however, we were moved rapidly to our left,
 followed by the rest of the division, till we came to an abrupt turn
 of the river, where we found a bridge, unoccupied by the enemy,
 which we immediately crossed and took possession of what appeared
 to me to be an old field-work on the other side. We had not been
 many seconds there before we observed the bayonets of the third and
 seventh divisions glittering above the standing corn, and advancing
 upon another bridge which stood about a quarter of a mile farther
 to our left, and where, on their arrival, they were warmly opposed
 by the enemy's light troops, who lined the bank of the river (which
 we ourselves were now on), in great force, for the defence of the
 bridge. As soon as this was observed by our division, Colonel Barnard
 advanced with our battalion, and took them in flank with such a
 furious fire as quickly dislodged them, and thereby opened a passage
 for these two divisions free of expense, which must otherwise have
 cost them dearly. What with the rapidity of our movement, the colour
 of our dress, and our close contact with the enemy before they would
 abandon their post, we had the misfortune to be identified with them
 for some time by a battery of our own guns, who, not observing the
 movement, continued to serve it out indiscriminately, and all the
 while admiring their practice upon us; nor was it until the red coats
 of the third division joined us that they discovered their mistake.

 "On the mountain to our extreme right the action continued to be
 general and obstinate, though we observed that the enemy were giving
 ground slowly to Sir Rowland Hill. The passage of the river by
 our division had turned the enemy's outpost at the bridge on our
 right, where we had been engaged in the morning, and they were now
 retreating, followed by the fourth division. The plain between them
 and Sir Rowland Hill was occupied by the British cavalry, who were
 now seen filing out of a wood, squadron after squadron, galloping
 into form as they gradually cleared it. The hills behind were covered
 with spectators, and the third and the light divisions, covered by
 our battalion, advanced rapidly upon a formidable hill in front of
 the enemy's centre, which they had neglected to occupy in sufficient
 force.

 "In the course of our progress our men kept picking off the French
 vedettes, who were imprudent enough to hover too near us; and many
 a horse, bounding along the plain, dragging his late rider by the
 stirrup-irons, contributed in making it a scene of extraordinary and
 exhilarating interest.

 "Old Picton rode at the head of the third division, dressed in a blue
 coat and a round hat, and swore as roundly all the way as if he had
 been wearing two cocked ones. Our battalion soon cleared the hill in
 question of the enemy's light troops; but we were pulled up on the
 opposite side of it by one of their lines, which occupied a wall at
 the entrance of a village immediately under us.

 "During the few minutes that we stopped there, while a brigade of
 the third division was deploying into line, two of our companies
 lost two officers and thirty men, chiefly from the fire of artillery
 bearing on the spot from the French position. One of their shells
 burst immediately under my nose, part of it struck my boot and
 stirrup-iron, and the rest of it kicked up such a dust about me
 that my charger refused to obey orders; and while I was spurring
 and he capering I heard a voice behind me, which I knew to be Lord
 Wellington's, calling out, in a tone of reproof, 'Look to keeping
 your men together, sir;' and though, God knows, I had not the
 remotest idea that he was within a mile of me at the time, yet so
 sensible was I that circumstances warranted his supposing that I
 was a young officer cutting a caper, by way of bravado, before him,
 that worlds would not have tempted me to look round at the moment.
 The French fled from the wall as soon as they received a volley
 from part of the third division, and we instantly dashed down the
 hill and charged them through the village, capturing three of their
 guns; the first, I believe, that were taken that day. They received
 a reinforcement, and drove us back before our supports could come
 to our assistance; but, in the scramble of the moment, our men were
 knowing enough to cut the traces and carry off the horses, so that
 when we retook the village immediately after the guns still remained
 in our possession.

 "The battle now became general along the whole line, and the
 cannonade was tremendous. At one period we held on one side of a
 wall, near the village, while the French were on the other, so that
 any person who chose to put his head over from either side was sure
 of getting a sword or a bayonet up his nostrils. This situation was,
 of course, too good to be of long endurance. The victory, I believe,
 was never for a moment doubtful. The enemy were so completely
 out-generalled, and the superiority of our troops was such, that to
 carry their positions required little more than the time necessary
 to march to them. After forcing their centre the fourth division and
 our own got on the flank and rather in rear of the enemy's left wing,
 who were retreating before Sir Rowland Hill, and who, to effect their
 escape, were now obliged to fly in one confused mass. Had a single
 regiment of our dragoons been at hand, or even a squadron, to have
 forced them into shape for a few minutes, we must have taken from ten
 to twenty thousand prisoners. After marching alongside of them for
 nearly two miles, and as a disorderly body will always move faster
 than an orderly one, we had the mortification to see them gradually
 heading us, until they finally made their escape.

 "Our elevated situation at this time afforded a good view of the
 field of battle to our left, and I could not help being struck with
 an unusual appearance of unsteadiness and want of confidence among
 the French troops. I saw a dense mass of many thousands occupying a
 good defensible post, who gave way in the greatest confusion before
 a single line of the third division, almost without feeling them.
 If there was nothing in any other part of the position to justify
 the movement, and I do not think there was, they ought to have been
 flogged, every man, from the general downwards.

 "The ground was particularly favourable to the retreating foe, as
 every half mile afforded a fresh and formidable position, so that
 from the commencement of the action to the city of Vittoria, a
 distance of six or eight miles, we were involved in one continued
 hard skirmish. On passing Vittoria, however, the scene became
 quite new and infinitely more amusing, as the French had made no
 provision for a retreat; and Sir Thomas Graham having seized upon
 the great road to France, the only one left open was that leading
 by Pampeluna; and it was not open long, for their fugitive army and
 their myriads of followers, with baggage, guns, carriages, &c., being
 all precipitated upon it at the same moment, it got choked up about
 a mile beyond the town, in the most glorious state of confusion; and
 the drivers, finding that one pair of legs was worth two pair of
 wheels, abandoned it all to the victors.

 "It is much to be lamented, on those occasions, that the people who
 contribute most to the victory should profit the least by it; not
 that I am an advocate for plunder--on the contrary, I would much
 rather that all our fighting was for pure love; but as everything of
 value falls into the hands of the followers and scoundrels who skulk
 from the ranks for the double purpose of plundering and saving their
 dastardly carcasses, what I regret is that the man who deserts his
 post should thereby have an opportunity of enriching himself with
 impunity, while the true man gets nothing; but the evil, I believe,
 is irremediable. Sir James Kempt, who commanded our brigade, in
 passing one of the captured waggons in the evening, saw a soldier
 loading himself with money, and was about to have him conveyed to the
 camp as a prisoner, when the fellow begged hard to be released, and
 to be allowed to retain what he had got, telling the general that
 all the boxes in the waggon were filled with gold. Sir James, with
 his usual liberality, immediately adopted the idea of securing it as
 a reward to his brigade for their gallantry; and, getting a fatigue
 party, he caused the boxes to be removed to his tent, and ordered an
 officer and some men from each regiment to parade there next morning
 to receive their proportions of it; but when they opened the boxes
 they found them filled with 'hammers, nails, and horse-shoes!'

 "As not only the body, but the mind, had been in constant occupation
 since three o'clock in the morning, circumstances no sooner
 permitted--about ten at night--than I threw myself on the ground,
 and fell into a profound sleep, from which I did not awake until
 broad daylight, when I found a French soldier squatted near me,
 intensely watching for the opening of my 'shutters.' He had contrived
 to conceal himself there during the night; and when he saw that I
 was awake, he immediately jumped on his legs, and very obsequiously
 presented me with a map of France, telling me that as there was now a
 probability of our visiting his native country, he could make himself
 very useful, and would be glad if I would accept of his services. I
 thought it unfair, however, to deprive him of the present opportunity
 of seeing a little more of the world himself; and therefore sent him
 to join the rest of the prisoners, which would insure him a trip to
 England, free of expense."

On the rough and shaggy field of the Pyrenees, with its deep and
tangled valleys and wind-scourged summits, where Soult was maintaining
a gallant and obstinate fight against Wellington, the British endured
and achieved much. Kincaid's account of the carrying of the Great
Rhune, of the passage of the Bidassoa and of the Nivelle, and of all
the fighting which led up to Toulouse, is worth giving:--

 "_November 10, 1813._--Petite La Rhune was allotted to our division
 as their first point of attack; and, accordingly, on the 10th being
 the day fixed, we moved to our ground at midnight on the 9th. The
 abrupt ridges in the neighbourhood enabled us to lodge ourselves,
 unperceived, within half musket-shot of their piquets; and we had
 left every description of animal behind us in camp, in order that
 neither the barking of dogs nor the neighing of steeds should give
 indication of our intentions. Our signal of attack was to be a gun
 from Sir John Hope, who had now succeeded Sir Thomas Graham in the
 command of the left wing of the army.

 "We stood to our arms at dawn of day, which was soon followed by
 the signal gun; and each commanding officer, according to previous
 instructions, led gallantly off to his point of attack. The French
 must have been, no doubt, astonished to see such an armed force
 spring out of the ground almost under their noses, but they were
 nevertheless prepared behind their entrenchments, and caused us some
 loss in passing the short space between us; but the whole place
 was carried within the time required to walk over it, and in less
 than half-an-hour from the commencement of the attack it was in our
 possession, with all their tents left standing.

 "Petite La Rhune was more of an outpost than a part of their
 position, the latter being a chain of stupendous mountains in its
 rear; so that, while our battalion followed their skirmishers into
 the valley between, the remainder of our division were forming for
 the attack on the main position and waiting for the co-operation of
 the other divisions, the thunder of whose artillery, echoing along
 the valleys, proclaimed that they were engaged far and wide on both
 sides of us. About mid-day our division advanced to the grand attack
 on the most formidable-looking part of the whole of the enemy's
 position, and, much to our surprise, we carried it with more ease
 and less loss than the outpost in the morning, a circumstance which
 we could only account for by supposing that it had been defended by
 the same troops, and that they did not choose to sustain two hard
 beatings on the same day. The attack succeeded at every point, and in
 the evening we had the satisfaction of seeing the left wing of the
 army marching into St. Jean de Luz."

Barnard, the gallant leader of the Rifles, was shot through the breast
when pressing in pursuit of the broken French, who had been driven
from the Little Rhune. He fell from his horse, and it was evident that
the lung was pierced, for blood and air issued from the wound, while
blood ran from the fallen man's mouth. "Do you think I am dying?" asked
Barnard coolly of an officer bending over him. "Did you ever see a man
so wounded recover?" He was told there were cases of recovery from such
a wound. "Then," said Barnard, "if any man can recover, I know that I
shall." And he did, his resolve not to die materially helping him to
survive. For so much does a cool and strong will count!

Kincaid's account of Toulouse is singularly brief. The Rifles were
placed so as to connect Picton's left with the Spaniards under Freire,
who were to attack the shoulder of Mont Rave. Thus Kincaid was able to
watch, and afterwards describe, the memorable rout of the Spaniards,
which forms the most picturesque feature of the battle. The Rifles
themselves were engaged in a sharp musketry fire with the convent, and
as they advanced a great open sewer had to be crossed and held. The
Rifles, according to the regimental record, suffered more from the
odours of the sewer than from the bullets of the French:--

 "We crossed the river, and advanced sufficiently near to the enemy's
 position to be just out of reach of their fire, where we waited until
 dispositions were made for the attack.

 "On our side of the river the Spanish army, which had never hitherto
 taken an active part in any of our general actions, now claimed
 the post of honour, and advanced to storm the strongest part of
 the heights. Our division was ordered to support them in the low
 grounds, and at the same time to threaten a point of the canal; and
 Picton, who was on our right, was ordered to make a false attack on
 the canal. These were all that were visible to us. The remaining
 divisions of the army were in continuation to the left.

 "The Spaniards, anxious to monopolise all the glory, I rather think,
 moved on to the attack a little too soon, and before the British
 divisions on their left were in readiness to co-operate. However,
 be that as it may, they were soon in a blaze of fire, and began
 walking through it at first with a great show of gallantry and
 determination; but their courage was not altogether screwed up to the
 sticking-point, and the nearer they came to the critical pass the
 less prepared they seemed to meet it, until they all finally faced to
 the right-about, and came back upon us as fast as their heels could
 carry them, pursued by the enemy.

 "We instantly advanced to their relief, and concluded that they
 would have rallied behind us, but they had no idea of doing anything
 of the kind, for when with Cuesta and some of the other Spanish
 generals they had been accustomed, under such circumstances, to run
 a hundred miles at a time; so that, passing through the intervals of
 our division, they went clear off to the rear, and we never saw them
 more. The moment the French found us interpose between them and the
 Spaniards they retired within their works.

 "The only remark that Lord Wellington was said to have made on their
 conduct, after waiting to see whether they would stand after they got
 out of the reach of the enemy's shot, was, 'Well, d---- me, if ever
 I saw ten thousand men run a race before!' However, notwithstanding
 their disaster, many of their officers certainly evinced great
 bravery, and on their account it is to be regretted that the attack
 was made so soon, for they would otherwise have carried their point
 with little loss, either of life or credit, as the British divisions
 on the left soon after stormed and carried all the other works, and
 obliged those who had been opposed to the Spaniards to evacuate
 theirs without firing another shot.

 "When the enemy were driven from the heights, they retired within
 the town, and the canal then became their line of defence, which
 they maintained the whole of the next day; but in the course of the
 following night they left the town altogether, and we took possession
 of it on the morning of the 12th.

 "The inhabitants of Toulouse hoisted the white flag, and declared
 for the Bourbons the moment that the French army had left it; and,
 in the course of the same day, Colonel Cooke arrived from Paris
 with the extraordinary news of Napoleon's abdication. Soult has
 been accused of having been in possession of that fact prior to the
 battle of Toulouse; but, to disprove such an assertion, it can only
 be necessary to think, for a moment, whether he would not have made
 it public the day after the battle, while he yet held possession of
 the town, as it would not only have enabled him to keep it, but, to
 those who knew no better, it might have given him a shadow of claim
 to the victory, if he chose to avail himself of it--and I have known
 a victory claimed by a French marshal on more slender grounds. In
 place of knowing it then, he did not even believe it now; and we were
 absolutely obliged to follow him a day's march beyond Toulouse before
 he agreed to an armistice."




CHAPTER IV

THE IMMINENT DEADLY BREACH


Of the three great and memorable sieges of the Peninsula--Ciudad
Rodrigo, Badajos, and San Sebastian--Kincaid took part in the first
two, and has left a curiously interesting account of his experiences
in them. Wellington's capture of Ciudad Rodrigo was a very swift and
dazzling stroke of war. The place was a great frontier fortress; it
held vast magazines of warlike material. While in French hands it
barred Wellington's advance into Spain. If captured, it would furnish a
secure base for such an advance.

Marmont and Soult, each in command of an army stronger than that under
Wellington, kept watch over the great fortress. To pluck it from their
very hands would have been judged beforehand an impossible thing. Yet
Wellington did it! He achieved the feat by a combination of secrecy,
audacity, and speed rarely excelled in war. He hid his preparations
beneath a veil of profoundest silence and mystery. Then, when his foes
had been thrown completely off their guard, he leaped on the doomed
fortress; and almost before the thunder of his guns had reached the
ears of Soult and of Marmont the fortress was lost! Wellington had
everything against him. His supplies were scanty, his siege train
miserable. The weather was bitter, and rains incessant, the ground
rocky. Yet the siege never faltered nor paused. Wellington broke ground
on January 8; he stormed the city on January 19. Never was a great
warlike operation conceived more subtly, or executed with greater fire
and swiftness.

Kincaid has a special right to tell the tale of this siege. He shared
in the hardships of the trenches, and led the storming party at one of
the breaches.

 "_January 8, 1812._--The campaign of 1812 commenced with the siege
 of Ciudad Rodrigo, which was invested by our division on the 8th of
 January.

 "There was a smartish frost, with some snow on the ground, and, when
 we arrived opposite the fortress, about mid-day, the garrison did
 not appear to think that we were in earnest, for a number of their
 officers came out, under the shelter of a stone wall, within half
 musket-shot, and amused themselves in saluting and bowing to us in
 ridicule; but, ere the day was done, some of them had occasion to
 wear the laugh on the opposite side of the countenance.

 "We lay by our arms until dark, when a party, consisting of a hundred
 volunteers from each regiment, under Colonel Colborne of the 52nd,
 stormed and carried the Fort of St. Francisco, after a short, sharp
 action, in which the whole of its garrison were taken or destroyed.
 The officer who commanded it was a chattering little fellow, and
 acknowledged himself to have been one of our saluting friends of the
 morning. He kept incessantly repeating a few words of English which
 he had picked up during the assault, and the only ones, I fancy,
 that were spoken, viz., 'dem eyes, b--t eyes!' and, in demanding
 the meaning of them, he required that we should also explain why
 we stormed a place without first besieging it; for, he said, that
 another officer would have relieved him of his charge at daylight,
 had we not relieved him of it sooner.

 "The enemy had calculated that this outwork would have kept us at bay
 for a fortnight or three weeks; whereas its capture the first night
 enabled us to break ground at once, within breaching distance of the
 walls of the town. They kept up a very heavy fire the whole night on
 the working parties; but, as they aimed at random, we did not suffer
 much, and made such good use of our time that, when daylight enabled
 them to see what we were doing, we had dug ourselves under tolerable
 cover.

 "In addition to ours, the first, third, and fourth divisions were
 employed in the siege. Each took the duties for twenty-four hours
 alternately, and returned to their cantonments during the interval.
 We were relieved by the first division, under Sir Thomas Graham, on
 the morning of the 9th, and marched to our quarters.

 "_January 12._--At ten o'clock this morning we resumed the duties of
 the siege. It still continued to be dry, frosty weather; and, as we
 were obliged to ford the Agueda, up to the middle, every man carried
 a pair of iced breeches into the trenches with him.

 "My turn of duty did not arrive until eight in the morning, when
 I was ordered to take thirty men with shovels to dig holes for
 ourselves, as near as possible to the walls, for the delectable
 amusement of firing at the embrasures for the remainder of the
 night. The enemy threw frequent fire-balls among us, to see where we
 were; but, as we always lay snug until their blaze was extinguished,
 they were not much the wiser, except by finding, from having some
 one popped off from their guns every instant, that they had got
 some neighbours whom they would have been glad to get rid of. We
 were relieved as usual at ten next morning, and returned to our
 cantonments.

 "_January 16._--Entered on our third day's duty, and found the
 breaching batteries in full operation, and our approaches close to
 the walls on every side. When we arrived on the ground I was sent
 to take command of the Highland company which we had at that time
 in the regiment, and which was with the left wing, under Colonel
 Cameron. I found them on piquet, between the right of the trenches
 and the river, half of them posted at a mud cottage and the other
 half in a ruined convent close under the walls. It was a very
 tolerable post when at it; but it is no joke travelling by daylight
 up to within a stone's throw of a wall on which there is a parcel of
 fellows who have no other amusement but to fire at everybody they see.

 "We could not show our noses at any point without being fired at;
 but, as we were merely posted there to protect the right flank of the
 trenches from any sortie, we did not fire at them, and kept as quiet
 as could be, considering the deadly blast that was blowing around us.
 There are few situations in life where something cannot be learnt,
 and I myself stand indebted to my twenty-four hours' residence there
 for a more correct knowledge of martial sounds than in the study of
 my whole life-time besides. They must be an unmusical pair of ears
 that cannot inform the wearer whether a cannon or a musket played
 last, but the various notes, emanating from their respective mouths,
 admit of nice distinctions. My party was too small and too well
 sheltered to repay the enemy for the expense of shells and round
 shot; but the quantity of grape and musketry aimed at our particular
 heads made a good concert of first and second whistles, while the
 more sonorous voice of the round shot, travelling to our friends on
 the left, acted as a thorough bass; and there was not a shell, that
 passed over us to the trenches, that did not send back a fragment
 among us as soon as it burst, as if to gratify a curiosity that I was
 far from expressing.

 "Everything is by comparison in this world, and it is curious to
 observe how men's feelings change with circumstances. In cool blood
 a man would rather go a little out of his way than expose himself to
 unnecessary danger; but we found, this morning, that by crossing the
 river where we then were and running the gantlet for a mile exposed
 to the fire of two pieces of artillery, that we should be saved the
 distance of two or three miles in returning to our quarters. After
 coming out of such a furnace as we had been frying in, the other
 fire was not considered a fire at all, and passed without a moment's
 hesitation.

 "_January 19, 1812._--We moved to the scene of operations about two
 o'clock this afternoon; and, as it was a day before our regular turn,
 we concluded that we were called there to lend a hand in finishing
 the job we had begun so well. Nor were we disappointed, for we found
 that two practicable breaches had been effected, and that the place
 was to be stormed in the evening by the third and light divisions,
 the former by the right breach, and the latter by the left, while
 some Portuguese troops were to attempt an escalade on the opposite
 sides of the town.

 "About eight o'clock in the evening our division was accordingly
 formed for the assault, behind a convent, near the left breach.

 "At a given signal the different columns advanced to the assault;
 the night was tolerably clear, and the enemy evidently expected us,
 for as soon as we turned the corner of the convent wall, the space
 between us and the breach became one blaze of light with their
 fire-balls, which, while they lighted us on to glory, lightened not a
 few of their lives and limbs; for the whole glacis was in consequence
 swept by a well-directed fire of grape and musketry, and they are the
 devil's own brooms; but our gallant fellows walked through it to the
 point of attack, with the most determined steadiness, excepting the
 Portuguese sack-bearers, most of whom lay down behind their bags, to
 wait the result, while the few that were thrown into the ditch looked
 so like dead bodies, that, when I leapt into it, I tried to avoid
 them.

 "The advantage of being on a storming party is considered as giving
 the prior claim to be 'put out of pain,' for they receive the first
 fire, which is generally the best, not to mention that they are
 also expected to receive the earliest salutations from the beams
 of timber, hand-grenades, and other missiles which the garrison
 are generally prepared to transfer from the top of the wall, to
 the tops of the heads of their foremost visitors. But I cannot say
 that I myself experienced any such preference, for every ball has
 a considerable distance to travel, and I have generally found them
 equally ready to pick up their man at the end as at the beginning of
 their flight.

 "We had some difficulty at first in finding the breach, as we had
 entered the ditch opposite to a ravelin, which we mistook for a
 bastion. I tried first one side of it and then the other, and seeing
 one corner of it a good deal battered, with a ladder placed against
 it, I concluded that it must be the breach, and calling to the
 soldiers near me to follow, I mounted with the most ferocious intent,
 carrying a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other; but, when
 I got up, I found nobody to fight with, except two of our own men,
 who were already laid dead across the top of the ladder. I saw in a
 moment that I had got into the wrong box, and was about to descend
 again, when I heard a shout from the opposite side that the breach
 was there; and, moving in that direction, I dropped myself from the
 ravelin, and landed in the ditch, opposite to the foot of the breach,
 where I found the head of the storming party just beginning to fight
 their way into it. The combat was of short duration, and, in less
 than half-an-hour from the commencement of the attack, the place was
 in our possession.

 "After carrying the breach, we met with no further opposition, and
 moved round the ramparts to see that they were perfectly clear of the
 enemy, previous to entering the town. I was fortunate enough to take
 the left-hand circuit, by accident, and thereby escape the fate which
 befel a great portion of those who went to the right, and who were
 blown up, along with some of the third division, by the accidental
 explosion of a magazine.

 "I was highly amused, in moving round the ramparts, to find some of
 the Portuguese troops just commencing their escalade, on the opposite
 side near the bridge, in ignorance of the place having already
 fallen. Gallantly headed by their officers, they had got some ladders
 placed against the wall, while about two thousand voices from the
 rear were cheering with all their might for mutual encouragement;
 and, like most other troops under similar circumstances, it appeared
 to me that their feet and their tongues went at a more equal pace
 after we gave them the hint. On going a little farther we came
 opposite to the ravelin which had been my chief annoyance during my
 last day's piquet. It was still crowded by the enemy, who had now
 thrown down their arms and endeavoured to excite our pity by virtue
 of their being 'Pauvres Italianos'; but our men had somehow imbibed
 a horrible antipathy to the Italians, and every appeal they made in
 that name was invariably answered with: 'You're Italians, are you?
 then d--n you, here's a shot for you'; and the action instantly
 followed the word.

 "We continued our course round the ramparts until we met the head
 of the column which had gone by the right, and then descended into
 the town. At the entrance of the first street, a French officer
 came out of a door and claimed my protection, giving me his sword.
 He told me that there was another officer in the same house who was
 afraid to venture out, and entreated that I would go in for him. I,
 accordingly, followed him up to the landing-place of a dark stair,
 and, while he was calling to his friend, by name to come down 'as
 there was an English officer present who would protect him,' a
 violent screaming broke through a door at my elbow. I pushed it open,
 and found the landlady struggling with an English soldier, whom I
 immediately transferred to the bottom of the stair head foremost. The
 French officer had followed me in at the door, and was so astonished
 at all he saw, that he held up his hands, turned up the whites of his
 eyes, and resolved himself into a state of most eloquent silence.

 "As the other officer could not be found, I descended into the
 street again with my prisoner; and, finding the current of soldiers
 setting towards the centre of the town, I followed the stream,
 which conducted me into the great square, on one side of which the
 late garrison were drawn up as prisoners, and the rest of it was
 filled with British and Portuguese intermixed without any order or
 regularity. I had been there but a very short time, when they all
 commenced firing, without any ostensible cause; some fired in at the
 doors and windows, some at the roofs of houses, and others at the
 clouds; and at last some heads began to be blown from their shoulders
 in the general hurricane, when the voice of Sir Thomas Picton,
 with the power of twenty trumpets, began to proclaim damnation to
 everybody, while Colonel Barnard, Colonel Cameron, and some other
 active officers, were carrying it into effect with a strong hand;
 for seizing the broken barrels of muskets which were lying about in
 great abundance, they belaboured every fellow most unmercifully about
 the head who attempted either to load or fire, and finally succeeded
 in reducing them to order. In the midst of the scuffle, however,
 three of the houses in the square were set on fire; and the confusion
 was such that nothing could be done to save them; but, by the
 extraordinary exertions of Colonel Barnard during the whole of the
 night, the flames were prevented from communicating to the adjoining
 buildings.

 "We succeeded in getting a great portion of our battalion together by
 one o'clock in the morning, and withdrew with them to the ramparts,
 where we lay by our arms until daylight.

 "There is nothing in this life half so enviable as the feelings of
 a soldier after a victory. Previous to a battle there is a certain
 sort of something that pervades the mind which is not easily defined;
 it is neither akin to joy or fear, and, probably, anxiety may be
 nearer to it than any other word in the dictionary; but, when the
 battle is over, and crowned with victory, he finds himself elevated
 for a while into the regions of absolute bliss! It had ever been the
 summit of my ambition to attain a post at the head of a storming
 party--my wish had now been accomplished and gloriously ended; and
 I do think that, after all was over, and our men laid asleep on the
 ramparts, that I strutted about as important a personage, in my own
 opinion, as ever trod the face of the earth; and, had the ghost of
 the renowned Jack-the-Giant-Killer itself passed that way at the
 time, I venture to say that I would have given it a kick in the
 breech without the smallest ceremony. But, as the sun began to rise,
 I began to fall from the heroics; and, when he showed his face, I
 took a look at my own and found that I was too unclean a spirit to
 worship, for I was covered with mud and dirt, with the greater part
 of my dress torn to rags.

 "The fifth division, which had not been employed in the siege,
 marched in and took charge of the town on the morning of the 20th,
 and we prepared to return to our cantonments. Lord Wellington
 happened to be riding in at the gate at the time that we were
 marching out, and had the curiosity to ask the officer of the leading
 company what regiment it was; for there was scarcely a vestige of
 uniform among the men, some of whom were dressed in Frenchmen's
 coats, some in white breeches and huge jack-boots, some with cocked
 hats and queues; most of their swords were fixed on the rifles, and
 stuck full of hams, tongues, and loaves of bread, and not a few were
 carrying bird-cages! There never was a better masked corps!

 "Among other things carried from Ciudad Rodrigo, one of our men had
 the misfortune to carry his death in his hands, under the mistaken
 shape of amusement. He thought that it was a cannon-ball, and took
 it for the purpose of playing at the game of nine-holes, but it
 happened to be a live shell. In rolling it along it went over a bed
 of burning ashes, and ignited without his observing it. Just as he
 had got it between his legs, and was in the act of discharging it a
 second time, it exploded, and nearly blew him to pieces."

The story of the siege of Badajos is darker and more tragical than
that of the capture of Ciudad Rodrigo. The defences of Badajos were
much more formidable than those of the sister fortress, the garrison
was more numerous, the defence more stubborn and skilful. Phillipon,
the commander of the assailed city, has, indeed, won enduring fame by
the skill and valour of his defence. Yet the siege only lasted twenty
days. It was begun on March 16; on April 6 the city was stormed. It was
carried by a night assault; but the breaches were imperfect, and the
art of Phillipon had made the Great Breach practically impregnable. But
the fierce and unquailing valour with which the British stormers flung
themselves on the breaches, and died on their rough and blood-splashed
slopes, makes one of the most thrilling stories in the history of war.
All the attacks on the breeches failed; but Picton carried the castle
by escalcade, and Leith forced his way over the bastion of St. Vincent,
where no breach existed, and where the scarp was thirty feet high; and
so the town was carried. It was one of the Rifles of whom Napier tells
the story, that in his resolution to win, he thrust himself beneath
the chained sword-blades at the summit of the Great Breach, and there
suffered the enemy to dash his head to pieces with the ends of their
muskets. Of Major O'Hare, who led the stormers of the Rifles, a grim
story is told. As his men were moving off in the darkness he shook
hands with a brother officer, and said: 'A Lieutenant-Colonel or cold
meat in a few hours.' He fell, shot dead on the breach itself ten
minutes afterwards.

As Kincaid led one of the storming parties at Ciudad Rodrigo, a lighter
part was assigned to him at Badajos. He commanded a strong party whose
business it was to line the glacis and keep down the fire from the
ramparts. He tells the tale briefly:--

 "On the 17th of March 1812, the third, fourth, and light divisions
 encamped around Badajos, embracing the whole of the inland side of
 the town on the left bank of the Guadiana, and commenced breaking
 ground before it immediately after dark the same night.

 "The elements on this occasion adopted the cause of the besieged,
 for we had scarcely taken up our ground when a heavy rain commenced,
 and continued, almost without intermission, for a fortnight; in
 consequence thereof the pontoon bridge, connecting us with our
 supplies from Elvas, was carried away by the rapid increase of
 the river, and the duties of the trenches were otherwise rendered
 extremely harassing. We had a smaller force employed than at Rodrigo,
 and the scale of operations was so much greater that it required
 every man to be actually in the trenches six hours every day, and
 the same length of time every night, which, with the time required
 to march to and from them, through fields more than ankle-deep in a
 stiff mud, left us never more than eight hours out of the twenty-four
 in camp, and we never were dry the whole time.

 "One day's trench work is as like another as the days themselves,
 and like nothing better than serving an apprenticeship to the double
 calling of gravedigger and gamekeeper, for we found ample employment
 both for the spade and the rifle.

 "The Portuguese artillery, under British officers, was uncommonly
 good. I used to be much amused in looking at a twelve-gun
 breaching-battery of theirs. They knew the position of all the
 enemy's guns which could bear upon them, and had one man posted to
 watch them, to give notice of what was coming, whether a shot or
 a shell, who accordingly kept calling out, 'Bomba, balla, balla,
 bomba,' and they ducked their heads until the missile passed; but
 sometimes he would see a general discharge from all arms, when he
 threw himself down, screaming out, 'Jesus, todos, todos!' meaning
 'everything.'

 "An officer of ours was sent one morning before daylight with ten
 men to dig holes for themselves opposite to one of the enemy's guns
 which had been doing a great deal of mischief the day before, and he
 had soon the satisfaction of knowing the effect of his practice by
 seeing them stopping up the embrasure with sand-bags. After waiting a
 little he saw them beginning to remove the bags, when he made his men
 open upon it again, and they were instantly replaced without the guns
 being fired. Presently he saw the huge cocked hat of a French officer
 make its appearance on the rampart near the embrasure, but knowing
 by experience that the head was somewhere in the neighbourhood, he
 watched until the flash of a musket through the long grass showed
 the position of the owner, and calling one of his best shots, he
 desired him to take deliberate aim at the spot, and lent his shoulder
 as a rest to give it more elevation. Bang went the shot, and it was
 the finishing flash for the Frenchman, for they saw no more of him,
 although his cocked hat maintained its post until dark.

 "In proportion as the grand crisis approached, the anxiety of the
 soldiers increased, not on account of any doubt or dread as to the
 result, but for fear that the place should be surrendered without
 standing an assault; for, singular as it may appear, although there
 was a certainty of about one man out of every three being knocked
 down, there were, perhaps, not three men in the three divisions who
 would not rather have braved all the chances than receive it tamely
 from the hands of the enemy. So great was the rage for passports into
 eternity in our battalion on that occasion that even the officers'
 servants insisted on taking their places in the ranks, and I was
 obliged to leave my baggage in charge of a man who had been wounded
 some days before.

 "On the 6th of April three practicable breaches had been effected,
 and arrangements were made for assaulting the town that night: the
 third division by escalade at the castle, a brigade of the fifth
 division by escalade at the opposite side of the town, while the
 fourth and light divisions were to storm the breaches. The whole were
 ordered to be formed for the attack at eight o'clock.

 "_April 6, 1812._--Our division formed for the attack of the left
 breach in the same order as at Ciudad Rodrigo. The command of it had
 now devolved upon our commandant, Colonel Barnard. I was then the
 acting adjutant of four companies, under Colonel Cameron, who were to
 line the crest of the glacis, and to fire at the ramparts and the top
 of the left breach.

 "The enemy seemed aware of our intentions. The fire of artillery
 and musketry, which for three weeks before had been incessant, both
 from the town and trenches, had now entirely ceased as if by mutual
 consent, and a death-like silence of nearly an hour preceded the
 awful scene of carnage.

 "The signal to advance was made about nine o'clock, and our four
 companies led the way. Colonel Cameron and myself had reconnoitred
 the ground so accurately by daylight that we succeeded in bringing
 the head of our column to the very spot agreed on, opposite to the
 left breach, and then formed line to the left without a word being
 spoken, each man lying down as he got into line, with the muzzle of
 his rifle over the edge of the ditch, between the palisades, all
 ready to open. It was tolerably clear above, and we distinctly saw
 their heads lining the ramparts, but there was a sort of haze on
 the ground which, with the colour of our dress, prevented them from
 seeing us, although only a few yards asunder. One of their sentries,
 however, challenged us twice, "Qui vive," and, receiving no reply,
 he fired off his musket, which was followed by their drums beating
 to arms; but we still remained perfectly quiet, and all was silence
 again for the space of five or ten minutes, when the head of the
 forlorn hope at length came up, and we took advantage of the first
 fire while the enemy's heads were yet visible.

 "The scene that ensued furnished as respectable a representation of
 hell itself as fire and sword and human sacrifices could make it, for
 in one instant every engine of destruction was in full operation. It
 is in vain to attempt a description of it. We were entirely excluded
 from the right breach by an inundation which the heavy rains had
 enabled the enemy to form, and the two others were rendered totally
 impracticable by their interior defences.

 "The five succeeding hours were therefore passed in the most gallant
 and hopeless attempts on the part of individual officers, forming
 up fifty or a hundred men at a time at the foot of the breach,
 and endeavouring to carry it by desperate bravery; and, fatal as
 it proved to each gallant band in succession, yet, fast as one
 dissolved, another was formed. We were informed about twelve at night
 that the third division had established themselves in the castle; but
 as its situation and construction did not permit them to extend their
 operations beyond it at the moment, it did not in the least affect
 our opponents at the breach, whose defence continued as obstinate as
 ever.

 "I was near Colonel Barnard after midnight, when he received repeated
 messages from Lord Wellington to withdraw from the breach and to form
 the division for a renewal of the attack at daylight; but as fresh
 attempts continued to be made, and the troops were still pressing
 forward into the ditch, it went against his gallant soul to order
 a retreat while yet a chance remained; but after heading repeated
 attempts himself, he saw that it was hopeless, and the order was
 reluctantly given about two o'clock in the morning. We fell back
 about three hundred yards, and re-formed all that remained to us.

 "Our regiment alone had to lament the loss of twenty-two officers
 killed and wounded, ten of whom were killed, or afterwards died of
 their wounds. We had scarcely got our men together when we were
 informed of the success of the fifth division in their escalade, and
 that the enemy were, in consequence, abandoning the breaches, and we
 were immediately ordered forward to take possession of them. On our
 arrival we found them entirely evacuated, and had not occasion to
 fire another shot; but we found the utmost difficulty and even danger
 in getting in in the dark, even without opposition. As soon as we
 succeeded in establishing our battalion inside, we sent piquets into
 the different streets and lanes leading from the breach, and kept the
 remainder in hand until day should throw some light on our situation.

 "When I was in the act of posting one of the piquets a man of ours
 brought me a prisoner, telling me that he was the governor; but the
 other immediately said that he had only called himself so the better
 to ensure his protection, and then added that he was the colonel of
 one of the French regiments, and that all his surviving officers were
 assembled at his quarters, in a street close by, and would surrender
 themselves to any officer who would go with him for that purpose.
 I accordingly took two or three men with me, and, accompanying him
 there, found fifteen or sixteen of them assembled, and all seeming
 very much surprised at the unexpected termination of the siege. They
 could not comprehend under what circumstances the town had been lost,
 and repeatedly asked me how I had got in; but I did not choose to
 explain further than simply telling them that I had entered at the
 breach, coupling the information with a look which was calculated to
 convey somewhat more than I knew myself; for, in truth, when I began
 to recollect that a few minutes before had seen me retiring from the
 breach under a fanciful overload of degradation, I thought that I had
 now as good a right as any man to be astonished at finding myself
 lording it over the officers of a French battalion; nor was I much
 wiser than they were as to the manner of its accomplishment.

 "They were all very much dejected, excepting their major, who was
 a big, jolly-looking Dutchman, with medals enough on his left
 breast to have furnished the window of a tolerable toy-shop. His
 accomplishments were after the manner of Captain Dugald Dalgetty;
 and while he cracked his joke he was not inattentive to the cracking
 of the corks from the many wine bottles which his colonel placed
 on the table successively, along with some cold meat, for general
 refreshment, prior to marching into captivity, and which I, though a
 free man, was not too proud to join them in.

 "When I had allowed their chief a reasonable time to secure what
 valuables he wished about his person, he told me that he had two
 horses in the stable, which, as he would no longer be permitted to
 keep, he recommended me to take; and as a horse is the only thing on
 such occasions that an officer can permit himself to consider a legal
 prize, I caused one of them to be saddled, and his handsome black
 mare thereby became my charger during the remainder of the war.

 "In proceeding with my prisoners towards the breach I took, by
 mistake, a different road to that I came; and as numbers of Frenchmen
 were lurking about for a safe opportunity of surrendering themselves,
 about a hundred additional ones added themselves to my column as we
 moved along, jabbering their native dialect so loudly as nearly to
 occasion a dire catastrophe, as it prevented me from hearing some
 one challenge in my front; but, fortunately, it was repeated and I
 instantly answered; for Colonel Barnard and Sir Colin Campbell had a
 piquet of our men drawn across the street on the point of sending a
 volley into us, thinking that we were a rallied body of the enemy.

 "The whole of the garrison were marched off as prisoners to Elvas,
 about ten o'clock in the morning, and our men were then permitted
 to fall out to enjoy themselves for the remainder of the day, as a
 reward for having kept together so long as they were wanted. The
 whole of the three divisions were by this time loose in the town, and
 the usual frightful scene of plunder commenced, which the officers
 thought it necessary to avoid for the moment by retiring to the camp.

 "We went into the town on the morning of the 8th to endeavour
 to collect our men, but only succeeded in part, as the same
 extraordinary scene of plunder and rioting still continued. Wherever
 there was anything to eat or drink, the only saleable commodities,
 the soldiers had turned the shopkeepers out of doors and placed
 themselves regularly behind the counter, selling off the contents of
 the shop. By-and-by another and a stronger party would kick those out
 in their turn, and there was no end to the succession of self-elected
 shopkeepers, until Lord Wellington found that to restore order severe
 measures must be resorted to. On the third day he caused a Portuguese
 brigade to be marched in and kept standing to their arms in the great
 square, where the provost-marshal erected a gallows and proceeded to
 suspend a few of the delinquents, which very quickly cleared the town
 of the remainder, and enabled us to give a more satisfactory account
 of our battalion than we had hitherto been able to do.

 "The third day after the fall of the town, I rode, with Colonel
 Cameron, to take a bathe in the Guadiana, and, in passing the verge
 of the camp of the fifth division, we saw two soldiers standing at
 the door of a small shed, or outhouse, shouting, waving their caps,
 and making signs that they wanted to speak to us. We rode up to see
 what they wanted, and found that the poor fellows had each lost a
 leg. They told us that a surgeon had dressed their wounds on the
 night of the assault, but that they had ever since been without food
 or assistance of any kind, although they, each day, had opportunities
 of soliciting the aid of many of their comrades, from whom they could
 obtain nothing but promises. In short, surrounded by thousands of
 their countrymen within call, and not more than three hundred yards
 from their own regiment, they were unable to interest any one in
 their behalf, and they were literally starving. It is unnecessary to
 say that we instantly galloped back to camp and had them removed to
 the hospital.

 "On the morning of the 7th, when some of our officers were performing
 the last duties to their fallen comrades, one of them had collected
 the bodies of four young officers who had been slain. He was in
 the act of digging a grave for them, when an officer of the Guards
 arrived on the spot, from a distant division of the army, and
 demanded tidings of his brother, who was at that moment lying a naked
 lifeless corpse under his very eyes. The officer had the presence
 of mind to see that the corpse was not recognised, and, wishing to
 spare the others feelings, told him that his brother was dangerously
 wounded, but he would hear more of him by going out to the camp;
 and thither the other immediately bent his steps, with a seeming
 presentiment of the sad intelligence that awaited him."

One curious incident in the siege of Badajos may be related. The day
after the assault two Spanish ladies, the younger a beautiful girl of
fourteen, appealed for help to two officers of the Rifles, who were
passing through one of the streets of the town. Their dress was torn,
their ears, from which rings had been roughly snatched, were bleeding,
and to escape outrage or death they cast themselves on the protection
of the first British officers they met. One of the officers was Captain
Harry Smith of the Rifles. Two years later he married the girl he had
saved in a scene so wild. Captain Harry Smith, in after years, served
at the Cape as Sir Harry, and this Spanish girl, as Lady Smith, gave
her name to the historic town which Sir George White defended with such
stubborn valour. The two great sieges of Badajos and of Ladysmith are
separated from each other by nearly a century; but there exists this
interesting human link betwixt them.




CHAPTER V

IN THE PYRENEES


The great battles and sieges, of course, arrest the attention of the
historian, and their tale has been told over and over again. But what
may be called the unrecorded marches and skirmishes of the campaign
have genuine interest; and Kincaid, as we have seen, describes these
with great vividness. Another set of such pictures is supplied by the
campaign in the Pyrenees, where the soldiers marched and fought in
wild and sunless ravines, on the wild-blown crests of mighty hills,
or in deep and roadless valleys. Here are some of Kincaid's Pyrenean
reminiscences. The month is July 1813. Wellington is pushing the broken
French back through the hill passes towards the French frontiers:--

 "We advanced along the banks of the Bidassoa, through a succession
 of beautiful little fertile valleys, thickly studded with clean,
 respectable-looking farm-houses and little villages, and bounded by
 stupendous, picturesque, and well-wooded mountains, until we came to
 the hill next to the village of Bera, which we found occupied by a
 small force of the enemy, who, after receiving a few shots from our
 people, retired through the village into their position behind it.
 Our line of demarcation was then clearly seen. The mountain which the
 French army occupied was the last ridge of the Pyrenees; and their
 sentries stood on the face of it, within pistol-shot of the village
 of Bera, which now became the advanced post of our division. The left
 wing of the army, under Sir Thomas Graham, now commenced the siege
 of St. Sebastian; and as Lord Wellington had, at the same time, to
 cover both that and the blockade of Pampeluna, our army occupied an
 extended position of many miles.

 "Marshal Soult having succeeded to the command of the French army,
 and finding, towards the end of July, that St. Sebastian was about
 to be stormed, and that the garrison of Pampeluna were beginning to
 get on short allowance, he determined on making a bold push for the
 relief of both places; and, assembling the whole of his army, he
 forced the pass of Maya, and advanced rapidly upon Pampeluna. Lord
 Wellington was never to be caught napping. His army occupied too
 extended a position to offer effectual resistance at any of their
 advanced posts; but, by the time that Marshal Soult had worked his
 way to the last ridge of the Pyrenees, and within sight of 'the haven
 of his wishes,' he found his lordship waiting for him, with four
 divisions of the army, who treated him to one of the most signal and
 sanguinary defeats that he ever experienced.

 "Our division during the important movements on our right was
 employed in keeping up the communication between the troops under
 the immediate command of Lord Wellington and those under Sir Thomas
 Graham, at St. Sebastian. We retired, the first day, to the mountains
 behind Le Secca; and, just as we were about to lie down for the
 night, we were again ordered under arms, and continued our retreat
 in utter darkness, through a mountain path, where, in many places, a
 false step might have rolled a fellow as far as the other world. The
 consequence was, that, although we were kept on our legs during the
 whole of the night, we found, when daylight broke, that the tail of
 the column had not got a quarter of a mile from their starting-post.
 On a good broad road it is all very well, but on a narrow, bad road
 a night march is like a nightmare, harassing a man to no purpose.

 "On the 26th, we occupied a ridge of mountain near enough to hear
 the battle, though not in a situation to see it; and remained the
 whole of the day in the greatest torture for want of news. About
 midnight we heard the joyful tidings of the enemy's defeat, with the
 loss of four thousand prisoners. Our division proceeded in pursuit
 at daylight on the following morning. We moved rapidly by the same
 road on which we had retired; and, after a forced march, found
 ourselves, when near sunset, on the flank of their retiring column on
 the Bidassoa, near the bridge of Janca, and immediately proceeded to
 business.

 "The sight of a Frenchman always acted like a cordial on the spirits
 of a rifleman; and the fatigues of the day were forgotten, as our
 three battalions extended among the brushwood, and went down to
 'knock the dust out of their hairy knapsacks,'[1] as our men were in
 the habit of expressing themselves; but, in place of knocking the
 dust out of them, I believe that most of their knapsacks were knocked
 in the dust; for the greater part of those who were not floored along
 with their knapsacks, shook them off, by way of enabling the owner to
 make a smarter scramble across that portion of the road on which our
 leaden shower was pouring; and, foes as they were, it was impossible
 not to feel a degree of pity for their situation; pressed by an enemy
 in the rear, an inaccessible mountain on their right, and a river on
 their left, lined by an invisible foe, from whom there was no escape
 but the desperate one of running the gantlet.

 "We advanced next morning, and occupied our former post at Bera. The
 enemy still continued to hold the mountain of Echelar, which, as it
 rose out of the right end of our ridge, was, properly speaking, a
 part of our property, and we concluded that a sense of justice would
 have induced them to leave it of their own accord in the course of
 the day; but, when towards the afternoon, they showed no symptoms of
 quitting, our division, leaving their kettles on the fire, proceeded
 to eject them. As we approached the mountain, the peak of it caught a
 passing cloud, that gradually descended in a thick fog and excluded
 them from our view. Our three battalions, however, having been let
 loose, under Colonel Barnard, we soon made ourselves 'Children of the
 Mist'; and, guided to our opponents by the whistling of their balls,
 made them descend from their 'high estate'; and, handing them across
 the valley into their own position, we then retired to ours, where we
 found our tables ready spread, and a comfortable dinner waiting for
 us.

 "This was one of the most gentleman-like day's fighting that I ever
 experienced, although we had to lament the vacant seats of one or two
 of our messmates.

 "_August 22._--I narrowly escaped being taken prisoner this morning,
 very foolishly. A division of Spaniards occupied the ground to our
 left, beyond the Bidassoa; and having mounted my horse to take a look
 at their post, I passed through a small village, and then got on a
 rugged path winding along the edge of the river, where I expected to
 find their outposts. The river at that place was not above knee-deep,
 and about ten or twelve yards across; and though I saw a number of
 soldiers gathering chestnuts from a row of trees which lined the
 opposite bank, I concluded that they were Spaniards, and kept moving
 onwards; but, observing at last, that I was an object of greater
 curiosity than I ought to be to people who had been in the daily
 habit of seeing the uniform, it induced me to take a more particular
 look at my neighbours, when, to my consternation, I saw the French
 eagle ornamenting the front of every cap. I instantly wheeled my
 horse to the right about; and seeing that I had a full quarter of
 a mile to traverse at a walk, before I could get clear of them, I
 began to whistle, with as much unconcern as I could muster, while
 my eye was searching like lightning for the means of escape in the
 event of their trying to cut me off. I had soon the satisfaction of
 observing that none of them had firelocks, which reduced my capture
 to the chances of a race! for, though the hill on my right was
 inaccessible to a horseman, it was not so to a dismounted Scotchman;
 and I therefore determined, in case of necessity, to abandon my
 horse, and show them what I could do on my own bottom at a pinch.
 Fortunately they did not attempt it; and I could scarcely credit my
 good luck when I found myself once more in my own tent."

No fighting in the whole Peninsular campaign was more stubborn than
that which took place in the Pyrenees towards the close of 1813. Soult
showed great skill and audacity as a general. He was fighting to keep
the invader's foot from profaning the "sacred" soil of France, and
his genius shines at its brightest in the combats fought in the wild
country betwixt San Sebastian and Bayonne. But Wellington's troops were
veterans, flushed with victory and full of pride in themselves and
confidence in their leader; and they were irresistible. One or two of
Kincaid's sketches of fighting in the Pyrenees may be given:--

 "The ensuing month passed by without producing the slightest novelty,
 and we began to get heartily tired of our situation. Our souls, in
 fact, were strung for war, and peace afforded no enjoyment, unless
 the place did, and there was none to be found in a valley of the
 Pyrenees, which the ravages of contending armies had reduced to a
 desert. The labours of the French on the opposite mountain had, in
 the first instance, been confined to fortification; but, as the
 season advanced, they seemed to think that the branch of a tree, or a
 sheet of canvas, was too slender a barrier between them and a frosty
 night, and their fortified camp was gradually becoming a fortified
 town of regular brick and mortar. Though we were living under the
 influence of the same sky, we did not think it necessary to give
 ourselves the same trouble, but reasoned on their proceedings like
 philosophers, and calculated, from the aspect of the times, that
 there was a probability of a speedy transfer of property, and that it
 might still be reserved for us to give their town a name; nor were
 we disappointed. Late on the night of the 7th of October, Colonel
 Barnard arrived from headquarters with the intelligence that the next
 was to be the day of trial. Accordingly, on the morning of the 8th,
 the fourth division came up to support us, and we immediately marched
 down to the foot of the enemy's position, shook off our knapsacks
 before their faces, and went at them.

 "The action commenced by five companies of our third battalion
 advancing, under Colonel Ross, to dislodge the enemy from a hill
 which they occupied in front of their entrenchments; and there never
 was a movement more beautifully executed, for they walked quietly and
 steadily up, and swept them regularly off without firing a single
 shot until the enemy had turned their backs, when they then served
 them out with a most destructive discharge. The movement excited the
 admiration of all who witnessed it, and added another laurel to the
 already crowded wreath which adorned the name of that distinguished
 officer.

 "At the first look of the enemy's position it appeared as if our
 brigade had got the most difficult task to perform; but as the
 capture of this hill showed us a way round the flank of their
 entrenchments, we carried one after the other until we finally gained
 the summit, with very little loss. Our second brigade, however, were
 obliged to take 'the bull by the horns' on their side, and suffered
 more severely; but they rushed at everything with a determination
 that defied resistance, carrying redoubt after redoubt at the point
 of the bayonet, until they finally joined us on the summit of the
 mountain, with three hundred prisoners in their possession.

 "We now found ourselves firmly established within the French
 territory, with a prospect before us that was truly refreshing,
 considering that we had not seen the sea for three years, and that
 our views for months had been confined to fogs and the peaks of
 mountains. On our left the Bay of Biscay lay extended as far as the
 horizon, while several of our ships of war were seen sporting upon
 her bosom. Beneath us lay the pretty little town of St. Jean de Luz,
 which looked as if it had just been framed out of the Liliputian
 scenery of a toy-shop. The town of Bayonne, too, was visible in the
 distance, and the view to the right embraced a beautiful, well-wooded
 country, thickly studded with towns and villages, as far as the eye
 could reach.

 "On the morning of the 9th we turned out as usual an hour before
 daylight. The sound of musketry to our right in our own hemisphere
 announced that the French and Spaniards had resumed their unfinished
 argument of last night relative to the occupation of La Rhune; while
 at the same time 'from our throne of clouds' we had an opportunity
 of contemplating, with some astonishment, the proceedings of the
 nether world. A French ship of war, considering St. Jean de Luz no
 longer a free port, had endeavoured, under cover of the night, to
 steal alongshore to Bayonne, and when daylight broke they had an
 opportunity of seeing that they were not only within sight of their
 port, but within sight of a British gun-brig, and if they entertained
 any doubts as to which of the two was nearest, their minds were
 quickly relieved on that point by finding that they were not within
 reach of their port, and strictly within reach of the guns of the
 brig, while two British frigates were bearing down with a press
 of canvas. The Frenchman returned a few broadsides. He was double
 the size of the one opposed to him, but, conceiving his case to be
 hopeless, he at length set fire to the ship and took to his boats.
 We watched the progress of the flames, until she finally blew up and
 disappeared in a column of smoke. The boats of our gun-brig were
 afterwards seen employed in picking up the odds and ends.

 "The French, after leaving La Rhune, established their advanced post
 on Petite La Rhune, a mountain that stood as high as most of its
 neighbours; but, as its name betokens, it was but a child to its
 gigantic namesake, of which it seemed as if it had at a former period
 formed a part; but having been shaken off like a useless galoche, it
 now stood gaping, open-mouthed, at the place it had left (and which
 had now become our advanced post), while the enemy proceeded to
 furnish its jaws with a set of teeth, or, in other words, to face it
 with breastworks, &c., a measure which they invariably had recourse
 to in every new position.

 "Encamped on the face of La Rhune, we remained a whole month idle
 spectators of their preparations, and dearly longing for the day
 that should afford us an opportunity of penetrating into the more
 hospitable-looking low country beyond them; for the weather had
 become excessively cold, and our camp stood exposed to the utmost
 fury of the almost nightly tempest. Oft have I in the middle of
 the night awoke from a sound sleep and found my tent on the point
 of disappearing in the air like a balloon, and, leaving my warm
 blankets, been obliged to snatch the mallet and rush out in the
 midst of a hailstorm to peg it down. I think that I now see myself
 looking like one of those gay creatures of the elements who dwelt, as
 Shakespeare has it, among the rainbows!

 "By way of contributing to the warmth of my tent, I dug a hole
 inside, which I arranged as a fireplace, carrying the smoke
 underneath the walls, and building a turf-chimney outside. I was not
 long in proving the experiment, and, finding that it went exceedingly
 well, I was not a little vain of the invention. However, it came on
 to rain very hard while I was dining at a neighbouring tent, and on
 my return to my own I found the fire not only extinguished, but a
 fountain playing from the same place up to the roof, watering my bed
 and baggage, and all sides of it, most refreshingly.

 "It is very singular that, notwithstanding our exposure to all the
 severities of the worst of weather, we had not a single sick man in
 the battalion while we remained there."

To this period belongs the stern fighting near Bayonne betwixt December
9 and 13, 1813.

 "We turned out at daylight on the 10th, but as there was a thick
 drizzling rain which prevented us from seeing anything, we soon
 turned in again. My servant soon after came to tell me that Sir
 Lowry Cole and some of his staff had just ascended to the top of the
 château, a piece of information which did not quite please me, for I
 fancied that the general had just discovered our quarter to be better
 than his own, and had come for the purpose of taking possession of
 it. However, in less than five minutes we received an order for our
 battalion to move up instantly to the support of the piquets; and
 on my descending to the door to mount my horse, I found Sir Lowry
 standing there, who asked if we had received any orders, and on my
 telling him that we had been ordered up to support the piquets, he
 immediately desired a staff-officer to order up one of his brigades
 to the rear of the château. This was one of the numerous instances in
 which we had occasion to admire the prudence and forethought of the
 great Wellington! He had foreseen the attack that would take place,
 and had his different divisions disposed to meet it.

 "The enemy came up to the opposite ridge in formidable numbers,
 and began blazing at our windows and loopholes and showing some
 disposition to attempt it by storm; but they thought better of it,
 and withdrew their columns a short distance to the rear, leaving the
 nearest hedge lined with their skirmishers. An officer of ours, Mr.
 Hopewood, and one of our sergeants, had been killed in the field
 opposite, within twenty yards of where the enemy's skirmishers now
 were. We were very anxious to get possession of their bodies, but had
 not force enough to effect it. Several French soldiers came through
 the hedge at different times with the intention, as we thought, of
 plundering, but our men shot every one who attempted to go near them,
 until towards evening, when a French officer approached, waving a
 white handkerchief and pointing to some of his men who were following
 him with shovels. Seeing that his intention was to bury them we
 instantly ceased firing, nor did we renew it again that night.

 "The 43rd, from their post at the church, kept up an incessant shower
 of musketry the whole of the day, at what was conceived at the time
 to be a very long range; but from the quantity of balls which were
 afterwards found sticking in every tree where the enemy stood, it
 was evident that their berth must have been rather uncomfortable.
 One of our officers, in the course of the day, had been passing
 through a deep roadway between two banks with hedgerows, when, to
 his astonishment, a dragoon and his horse tumbled heels over head
 into the road, as if they had been fired out of a cloud. Neither of
 them were the least hurt; but it must have been no joke that tempted
 him to take such a flight. General Alten and Sir James Kempt took up
 their quarters with us in the château; our sentries and those of the
 enemy stood within pistol-shot of each other in the ravine below.

 "On the 12th there was heavy firing and hard fighting all day to our
 left, but we remained perfectly quiet. Towards the afternoon Sir
 James Kempt formed our brigade for the purpose of expelling the enemy
 from the hill next to the château, to which he thought them rather
 too near; but, just as we reached our different points for commencing
 the attack, we were recalled, and nothing further occurred.

 "I went about one o'clock in the morning to visit our different
 piquets, and seeing an unusual number of fires in the enemy's lines,
 I concluded that they had lit them to mask some movement; and, taking
 a patrol with me, I stole cautiously forward and found that they had
 left the ground altogether. I immediately returned and reported the
 circumstance to General Alten, who sent off a despatch to apprise
 Lord Wellington.

 "As soon as day began to dawn on the morning of the 13th, a
 tremendous fire of artillery and musketry was heard to our right.
 Soult had withdrawn everything from our front in the course of the
 night, and had now attacked Sir Rowland Hill with his whole force.
 Lord Wellington, in expectation of this attack, had last night
 reinforced Sir Rowland Hill with the sixth division; which enabled
 him to occupy his contracted position so strongly that Soult, unable
 to bring more than his own front to bear upon him, sustained a signal
 and sanguinary defeat.

 "Lord Wellington galloped into the yard of our château soon after the
 attack had commenced, and demanded, with his usual quickness, what
 was to be seen? Sir James Kempt, who was spying at the action from an
 upper window, told him; and, after desiring Sir James to order Sir
 Lowry Cole to follow him with the fourth division, he galloped off to
 the scene of action. In the afternoon, when all was over, he called
 in again on his return to headquarters, and told us, 'that it was the
 most glorious affair that he had ever seen; and that the enemy had
 absolutely left upwards of five thousand men killed and wounded on
 the ground.'"

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: The French knapsack is made of unshorn goatskin.]




CHAPTER VI

QUATRE BRAS


Napoleon escaped from Elba on January 26, 1815; on March 19 he reached
Fontainebleau, and Louis XVIII. fled from Paris. Instantly the flames
of war were rekindled throughout Europe. England hurried her best
troops into the Netherlands, where a great army under Wellington
was assembling. Amongst the first of the regiments to embark were
naturally the famous Rifles. Kincaid had persuaded himself that his
fighting days were ended, and he was peacefully shooting woodcocks in
Scotland when summoned to join his regiment at speed. His battalion had
sailed, and he caught the first boat leaving Leith for Rotterdam. It
took ten days to reach the coast of Holland, and then went helplessly
ashore. Kincaid got safely to land, and pushed on to Brussels, when he
found his battalion forming part of the fifth division under Picton.
A fortnight's pause followed, while the Prussian and English armies
watched and listened for the first sign or sound which would show where
Napoleon's blow was about to fall. It was the fate of the Rifles to
take a gallant part in the stern fight at Quatre Bras, and Kincaid
tells the story very graphically:--

 "As our division was composed of crack regiments under crack
 commanders, and headed by fire-eating generals, we had little to
 do the first fortnight after my arrival beyond indulging in all
 the amusements of our delightful quarter; but, as the middle of
 June approached, we began to get a little more on the _qui vive_,
 for we were aware that Napoleon was about to make a dash at some
 particular point; and, as he was not the sort of general to give
 his opponent an idea of the when and the where, the greater part of
 our army was necessarily disposed along the frontier, to meet him
 at his own place. They were, of course, too much extended to offer
 effectual resistance in their advanced position; but as our division
 and the Duke of Brunswick's corps were held in reserve at Brussels,
 in readiness to be thrust at whatever point might be attacked, they
 were a sufficient additional force to check the enemy for the time
 required to concentrate the army.

 "We were, the whole of June 15th, on the most anxious lookout for
 news from the front; but no report had been received prior to the
 hour of dinner. I went, about seven in the evening, to take a stroll
 in the park, and meeting one of the Duke's staff he asked me, _en
 passant_, whether my pack-saddles were all ready? I told him that
 they were nearly so, and added, 'I suppose they won't be wanted, at
 all events, before to-morrow?' to which he replied, in the act of
 leaving me, 'If you have any preparation to make, I would recommend
 you not to delay so long.' I took the hint, and, returning to
 quarters, remained in momentary expectation of an order to move. The
 bugles sounded to arms about two hours after.

 "To the credit of our battalion, be it recorded that, although the
 greater part were in bed when the assembly sounded, and billeted
 over the most distant parts of that extensive city, every man was on
 his alarm-post before eleven o'clock in a complete state of marching
 order; whereas it was nearly two o'clock in the morning before we
 were joined by the others.

 "As a grand ball was to take place the same night at the Duchess
 of Richmond's, the order for the assembling of the troops was
 accompanied by permission for any officer who chose, to remain for
 the ball, provided that he joined his regiment early in the morning.
 Several of ours took advantage of it.

 "Waiting for the arrival of the other regiments, we endeavoured to
 snatch an hour's repose on the pavement; but we were every instant
 disturbed, by ladies as well as gentlemen, some stumbling over us in
 the dark--some shaking us out of our sleep to be told the news--and
 not a few conceiving their immediate safety depending upon our
 standing in place of lying. All those who applied for the benefit
 of my advice, I recommended to go home to bed, to keep themselves
 perfectly cool, and to rest assured that, if their departure from the
 city became necessary (which I very much doubted), they would have at
 least one whole day to prepare for it, as we were leaving some beef
 and potatoes behind us, for which, I was sure, we would fight rather
 than abandon!

 "The whole of the division having at length assembled, we were put in
 motion about three o'clock on the morning of the 16th, and advanced
 to the village of Waterloo, where, forming in a field adjoining the
 road, our men were allowed to prepare their breakfasts. I succeeded
 in getting mine in a small inn on the left-hand side of the village.
 Lord Wellington joined us about nine o'clock; and from his very
 particular orders to see that the roads were kept clear of baggage,
 and everything likely to impede the movements of the troops, I have
 since been convinced that his lordship had thought it probable that
 the position of Waterloo might, even that day, have become the
 scene of action; for it was a good broad road, on which there were
 neither the quantity of baggage nor of troops moving at the time to
 excite the slightest apprehension of confusion. Leaving us halted,
 he galloped on to the front, followed by his staff; and we were soon
 after joined by the Duke of Brunswick, with his corps of the army.

 "His Highness dismounted near the place where I was standing, and
 seated himself on the roadside, along with his adjutant-general.
 He soon after despatched his companion on some duty; and I was
 much amused to see the vacated place immediately filled by an old
 beggar-man, who, seeing nothing in the black hussar uniform beside
 him denoting the high rank of the wearer, began to grunt and scratch
 himself most luxuriously! The Duke showed a degree of courage which
 few would under such circumstances; for he maintained his post until
 the return of his officer, when he very jocularly said, 'Well,
 O----n, you see that your place was not long unoccupied!' How little
 idea had I, at the time, that the life of the illustrious speaker was
 limited to three short hours!

 "About twelve o'clock an order arrived for the troops to advance,
 leaving their baggage behind; and though it sounded warlike, yet we
 did not expect to come in contact with the enemy, at all events, on
 that day. But, as we moved forward, the symptoms of their immediate
 presence kept gradually increasing; for we presently met a cartload
 of wounded Belgians; and, after passing through Genappe, the distant
 sound of a solitary gun struck on the listening ear. But all doubt
 on the subject was quickly removed; for, on ascending the rising
 ground where stands the village of Quatre Bras, we saw a considerable
 plain in our front, flanked on each side by a wood, and on another
 acclivity beyond, we could perceive the enemy descending towards us
 in most imposing numbers.

 "Quatre Bras, at that time, consisted of only three or four houses;
 and, as its name betokens, I believe, stood at the junction of four
 roads, on one of which we were moving; a second inclined to the
 right; a third, in the same degree, to the left; and the fourth, I
 conclude, must have gone backwards; but, as I had not an eye in
 that direction, I did not see it. The village was occupied by some
 Belgians, under the Prince of Orange, who had an advanced post in a
 large farmhouse at the foot of the road, which inclined to the right;
 and a part of his division also occupied the wood on the same side.

 "Lord Wellington, I believe, after leaving us at Waterloo, galloped
 on to the Prussian position at Ligny, where he had an interview
 with Blucher, in which they concerted measures for their mutual
 co-operation. When we arrived at Quatre Bras, however, we found him
 in a field near the Belgian outpost; and the enemy's guns were just
 beginning to play upon the spot where he stood, surrounded by a
 numerous staff.

 "We halted for a moment on the brow of the hill; and as Sir Andrew
 Barnard galloped forward to the headquarter group, I followed, to
 be in readiness to convey any orders to the battalion. The moment
 we approached, Lord Fitzroy Somerset, separating himself from the
 Duke, said, 'Barnard, you are wanted instantly; take your battalion
 and endeavour to get possession of that village,' pointing to one
 on the face of the rising ground, down which the enemy were moving;
 'but if you cannot do that, secure that wood on the left, and keep
 the road open for communication with the Prussians.' We instantly
 moved in the given direction; but, ere we had got half-way to the
 village, we had the mortification to see the enemy throw such a force
 into it as rendered any attempt to retake it, with our numbers,
 utterly hopeless; and as another strong body of them were hastening
 towards the wood, which was the second object pointed out to us, we
 immediately brought them to action, and secured it. In moving to that
 point, one of our men went raving mad, from excessive heat. The poor
 fellow cut a few extraordinary capers, and died in the course of a
 few minutes.

 "While our battalion reserve occupied the front of the wood, our
 skirmishers lined the side of the road, which was the Prussian line
 of communication. The road itself, however, was crossed by such
 a shower of balls, that none but a desperate traveller would have
 undertaken a journey on it. We were presently reinforced by a small
 battalion of foreign light troops, with whose assistance we were in
 hopes to have driven the enemy a little farther from it; but they
 were a raw body of men, who had never before been under fire, and, as
 they could not be prevailed upon to join our skirmishers, we could
 make no use of them whatever. Sir Andrew Barnard repeatedly pointed
 out to them which was the French, and which was our side; and, after
 explaining that they were not to fire a shot until they joined our
 skirmishers, the word 'March!' was given; but march to them was
 always the signal to fire, for they stood fast, and began blazing
 away, chiefly at our skirmishers too, the officers commanding whom
 were every time sending back to say that we were shooting them: until
 we were at last obliged to be satisfied with whatever advantages
 their appearance could give, as even that was of some consequence
 where troops were so scarce.

 "Bonaparte's attack on the Prussians had already commenced, and the
 fire of artillery and musketry in that direction was tremendous; but
 the intervening higher ground prevented us from seeing any part of it.

 "The plain to our right which we had just quitted had likewise become
 the scene of a sanguinary and unequal contest. Our division after we
 left it deployed into line, and, in advancing, met and routed the
 French infantry; but in following up their advantage they encountered
 a furious charge of cavalry, and were obliged to throw themselves
 into squares to receive it. With the exception of one regiment,
 however, which had two companies cut to pieces, they were not only
 successful in resisting the attack, but made awful havoc in the
 enemy's ranks, who, nevertheless, continued their forward career, and
 went sweeping past them like a whirlwind up to the village of Quatre
 Bras, to the confusion and consternation of the numerous useless
 appendages of our army who wore there assembled waiting the result of
 the battle.

 "The forward movement of the enemy's cavalry gave their infantry
 time to rally; and strongly reinforced with fresh troops, they again
 advanced to the attack. This was a crisis in which, according to
 Bonaparte's theory, the victory was theirs by all the rules of war,
 for they held superior numbers both before and behind us; but the
 gallant old Picton, who had been trained in a different school, did
 not choose to confine himself to rules in those matters. Despising
 the force in his rear, he advanced, charged, and routed those in his
 front, which created such a panic among the others that they galloped
 back through the intervals in his division with no other object in
 view but their own safety. After this desperate conflict the firing
 on both sides lulled almost to a calm for nearly an hour, while each
 was busy in renewing their order of battle.

 "The battle, on the side of the Prussians, still continued to rage in
 an unceasing roar of artillery. About four in the afternoon a troop
 of their dragoons came, as a patrol, to inquire how it fared with us,
 and told us in passing that they still maintained their position.
 Their day, however, was still to be decided, and, indeed, for that
 matter, so was our own; for, although the firing for the moment had
 nearly ceased, I had not yet clearly made up my mind which side had
 been the offensive, which the defensive, or which the winning. I
 had merely the satisfaction of knowing that we had not lost it; for
 we had met fairly in the middle of a field (or, rather unfairly,
 considering that they had two to one), and, after the scramble was
 over, our division still held the ground they fought on. All doubts
 on the subject, however, began to be removed about five o'clock. The
 enemy's artillery once more opened, and on running to the brow of
 the hill to ascertain the cause, we perceived our old light-division
 general, Count Alten, at the head of a fresh British division, moving
 gallantly down the road towards us. It was, indeed, a joyful sight;
 for, as already mentioned, our division had suffered so severely
 that we could not help looking forward to a renewal of the action,
 with such a disparity of force, with considerable anxiety. But this
 reinforcement gave us new life, and, as soon as they came near
 enough to afford support, we commenced the offensive, and driving in
 the skirmishers opposed to us, succeeded in gaining a considerable
 portion of the position originally occupied by the enemy, when
 darkness obliged us to desist. In justice to the foreign battalion
 which had been all day attached to us, I must say that, in this last
 movement, they joined us cordially and behaved exceedingly well. They
 had a very gallant young fellow at their head; and their conduct in
 the earlier part of the day can therefore only be ascribed to its
 being their first appearance on such a stage.

 "Leaving General Alten in possession of the ground which we had
 assisted in winning, we returned in search of our division, and
 reached them about eleven at night, lying asleep in their glory on
 the field where they had fought, which contained many a bloody trace
 of the day's work. The firing, on the side of the Prussians, had
 altogether ceased before dark, but recommenced with redoubled fury
 about an hour after; and it was then, as we afterwards learnt, that
 they lost the battle.

 "We lay down by our arms near the farmhouse already mentioned, in
 front of Quatre Bras; and the deuce is in it if we were not in
 good trim for sleeping, seeing that we had been either marching or
 fighting for twenty-six successive hours."

In the retreat from Quatre Bras to Waterloo, made necessary by the
defeat of Blucher at Ligny, the Rifles formed part of the rearguard.
Says Kincaid:--

 "_June 17._--As last night's fighting only ceased with the daylight,
 the scene this morning presented a savage, unsettled appearance; the
 fields were strewed with the bodies of men, horses, torn clothing,
 and shattered cuirasses; and, though no movements appeared to be
 going on on either side, yet, as occasional shots continued to be
 exchanged at different points, it kept every one wide awake. We had
 the satisfaction of knowing that the whole of our army had assembled
 on the hill behind in the course of the night.

 "About nine o'clock we received the news of Blucher's defeat, and of
 his retreat to Wavre. Lord Wellington, therefore, immediately began
 to withdraw his army to the position of Waterloo. Sir Andrew Barnard
 was ordered to remain as long as possible with our battalion, to mask
 the retreat of the others; and was told, if we were attacked, that
 the whole of the British cavalry were in readiness to advance to our
 relief. I had an idea, however, that a single rifle battalion in the
 midst of ten thousand dragoons, would come but indifferently off in
 the event of a general crash, and was by no means sorry when, between
 eleven and twelve o'clock, every regiment had got clear off, and we
 followed before the enemy had put anything in motion against us.

 "After leaving the village of Quatre Bras, and passing through our
 cavalry who were formed on each side of the road, we drew up at
 the entrance of Genappe. The rain at that moment began to descend
 in torrents, and our men were allowed to shelter themselves in the
 nearest houses; but we were obliged to turn out again in the midst of
 it in less than five minutes, as we found the French cavalry and ours
 already exchanging shots, and the latter were falling back to the
 more favourable ground behind Genappe; we therefore retired with them
 _en masse_ through the village, and formed again on the rising ground
 beyond.

 "While we remained there we had an opportunity of seeing the
 different affairs of cavalry; and it did one's heart good to see how
 cordially the Life Guards went at their work. They had no idea of
 anything but straight-forward fighting, and sent their opponents
 flying in all directions. The only young thing they showed was in
 every one who got a roll in the mud (and, owing to the slipperiness
 of the ground, there were many) going off to the rear, according to
 their Hyde Park custom, as being no longer fit to appear on parade! I
 thought at first that they had been all wounded, but, on finding how
 the case stood, I could not help telling them that theirs was now the
 situation to verify the old proverb, 'The uglier the better soldier!'

 "The roads as well as the fields had now become so heavy that our
 progress to the rear was very slow; and it was six in the evening
 before we drew into the position of Waterloo. Our battalion took
 post in the second line that night, with its right resting on the
 Namur Road, behind La Haye Sainte, near a small mud cottage, which
 Sir Andrew Barnard occupied as a quarter. The enemy arrived in front
 in considerable force about an hour after us, and a cannonade took
 place in different parts of the line, which ended at dark, and we lay
 down by our arms. It rained excessively hard the greater part of the
 night, nevertheless, having succeeded in getting a bundle of hay for
 my horse, and one of straw for myself, I secured the horse to his
 bundle, by tying him to one of the men's swords stuck in the ground,
 and, placing mine under his nose, I laid myself down upon it, and
 never opened my eyes again until daylight."




CHAPTER VII

THE RIFLES AT WATERLOO


Nothing in Kincaid's "adventures" is finer than his account of
Waterloo. He tells, it is true, only that which took place about
himself, and, as the grey and strangling battle-smoke lay for hours
on the ridge where Kincaid stood, he could see only a very tiny patch
of the great landscape of the battle. Waterloo, for him, might be
described as a ring of imprisoning smoke, over which bellowed and
echoed constantly the roar of a hundred guns, and out of which, at
irregular intervals, broke lines of French infantry--sometimes as a
spray of skirmishers, sometimes as massed battalions. Sometimes, by
way of change, a column of horsemen--helmeted dragoons, cuirassiers in
glittering breastplates, red lancers of the Guard--broke through the
fog, rode at the stubborn line of the Rifles, and reeled off into the
fog again, pursued by darting musketry volleys. To endure and to repel
incessant attacks, hour after hour, was the business of the dwindling
companies of the Rifles. The third battalion, to which Kincaid
belonged, formed part of Adams's brigade. It stood a hundred yards
to the rear of La Haye Sainte, a little to the left of Wellington's
centre. The famous sandpit was in the immediate front of the battalion,
and was held by three companies of Rifles. On this point in the British
line the utmost strength of the French attack--horse, foot, and
artillery--was expended, and no men that day saw fiercer fighting than
did Kincaid and his fellow-riflemen. Kincaid, therefore, has this right
to tell the story of Waterloo: he fought through the whole of that
fateful day in the very heart of the great struggle:--

 "When I awoke this morning at daylight, I found myself drenched with
 rain. I had slept so long and so soundly that I had, at first, but
 a very confused notion of my situation; but having a bright idea
 that my horse had been my companion when I went to sleep, I was
 rather startled at finding that I was now alone, nor could I rub my
 eyes clear enough to procure a sight of him, which was vexatious
 enough; for, independent of his value as a horse, his services were
 indispensable, and an adjutant might as well think of going into
 action without his arms as without such a supporter. But whatever my
 feelings might have been towards him, it was evident that he had none
 for me, from having drawn his sword and marched off. The chances of
 finding him again, amid ten thousand others, were about equal to the
 odds against the needle in a bundle of hay; but for once the single
 chance was gained, as, after a diligent search of an hour, he was
 discovered between two artillery horses, about half a mile from where
 he broke loose.

 "The weather cleared up as the morning advanced; and, though
 everything remained quiet at the moment, we were confident that
 the day would not pass off without an engagement, and, therefore,
 proceeded to put our arms in order, as, also, to get ourselves dried
 and made as comfortable as circumstances would permit.

 "We made a fire against the wall of Sir Andrew Barnard's cottage,
 and boiled a huge camp-kettle full of tea, mixed up with a suitable
 quantity of milk and sugar, for breakfast; and, as it stood on
 the edge of the high-road, where all the big-wigs of the army
 had occasion to pass, in the early part of the morning, I believe
 almost every one of them, from the Duke downwards, claimed a
 cupful. About ten o'clock an unusual bustle was observable among
 the staff-officers, and we soon after received an order to stand to
 our arms. The troops who had been stationed in our front during the
 night were then moved off to the right, and our division took up its
 fighting position.

 "Our battalion stood on what was considered the left centre of the
 position. We had our right resting on the Brussels road, about a
 hundred yards in the rear of the farmhouse of La Haye Sainte, and our
 left extending behind a broken hedge, which ran along the ridge to
 the left. Immediately in our front, and divided from La Haye Sainte
 only by the great road, stood a small knoll, with a sand-hole in its
 farthest side, which we occupied, as an advanced post, with three
 companies. The remainder of the division was formed in two lines;
 the first, consisting chiefly of light troops, behind the hedge, in
 continuation from the left of our battalion reserve, and the second,
 about a hundred yards in its rear. The guns were placed in the
 intervals between the brigades, two pieces were in the roadway on our
 right, and a rocket brigade in the centre.

 "The road had been cut through the rising ground, and was about
 twenty or thirty feet deep where our right rested, and which, in a
 manner, separated us from all the troops beyond. The division, I
 believe, under General Alten occupied the ground next to us, on the
 right.

 "Shortly after we had taken up our ground, some columns, from the
 enemy's left, were seen in motion towards Hougoumont, and were soon
 warmly engaged with the right of our army. A cannon ball, too, came
 from the Lord knows where, for it was not fired at us and took the
 head off our right-hand man. That part of their position, in our
 own immediate front, next claimed our undivided attention. It had
 hitherto been looking suspiciously innocent, with scarcely a human
 being upon it; but innumerable black specks were now seen taking post
 at regular distances in its front, and recognising them as so many
 pieces of artillery, I knew, from experience, although nothing else
 was yet visible, that they were unerring symptoms of our not being
 destined to be idle spectators.

 "From the moment we took possession of the knoll we had busied
 ourselves in collecting branches of trees and other things, for
 the purpose of making an abatis to block up the road between that
 and the farmhouse, and soon completed one, which we thought looked
 sufficiently formidable to keep out the whole of the French cavalry;
 but it was put to the proof sooner than we expected, by a troop of
 our own light dragoons, who, having occasion to gallop through,
 astonished us not a little by clearing away every stick of it. We
 had just time to replace the scattered branches, when the whole of
 the enemy's artillery opened, and their countless columns began to
 advance under cover of it."

The attack on Hougoumont, it will be remembered, was intended by
Napoleon to be a mere feint, serving to draw off Wellington's attention
from the real attack, the onfall of D'Erlon's huge columns on the
left centre of the British position, which Napoleon hoped to pierce
and destroy. Napoleon's tactics broke down first at Hougoumont, for
the feigned attack grew persistent and obstinate, and drew into its
madness more than twelve thousand good infantry, and after all failed.
D'Erlon's great infantry attack was defeated by the stubbornness of
Picton's slender lines, and by the sudden and overwhelming onfall
of the Life Guards, Inniskillings, and Greys. Kincaid tells how he
watched the French columns taking position for their attack:--

 "The scene at that moment was grand and imposing, and we had a few
 minutes to spare for observation. The column destined as 'our'
 particular 'friends,' first attracted our notice, and seemed to
 consist of about ten thousand infantry. A smaller body of infantry
 and one of cavalry moved on their right; and, on their left, another
 huge column of infantry, and a formidable body of cuirassiers, while
 beyond them it seemed one moving mass.

 "We saw Bonaparte himself take post on the side of the road
 immediately in our front, surrounded by a numerous staff; and each
 regiment, as they passed him, rent the air with shouts of 'Vive
 l'Empereur,' nor did they cease after they had passed, but, backed
 by the thunder of their artillery, and carrying with them the
 rub-a-dub of drums and the tantarara of trumpets, in addition to
 their increasing shouts, it looked at first as if they had some
 hopes of scaring us off the ground, for it was a singular contrast
 to the stern silence reigning on our side, where nothing as yet
 but the voices of our great guns told that we had mouths to open
 when we chose to use them. Our rifles were, however, in a very few
 seconds required to play their parts, and opened such a fire on the
 advancing skirmishers as quickly brought them to a standstill; but
 their columns advanced steadily through them, although our incessant
 tiralade was telling in their centre with fearful exactness, and our
 post was quickly turned in both flanks, which compelled us to fall
 back and join our comrades behind the hedge, though not before some
 of our officers and theirs had been engaged in personal combat.

 "When the heads of their columns showed over the knoll which we had
 just quitted, they received such a fire from our first line that they
 wavered and hung behind it a little; but, cheered and encouraged by
 the gallantry of their officers, who were dancing and flourishing
 their swords in front, they at last boldly advanced to the opposite
 side of our hedge and began to deploy. Our first line, in the
 meantime, was getting so thinned that Picton found it necessary to
 bring up his second, but fell in the act of doing it. The command of
 the division at that critical moment devolved upon Sir James Kempt,
 who was galloping along the line, animating the men to steadiness. He
 called to me by name, where I happened to be standing on the right
 of our battalion, and desired 'that I would never quit that spot.'
 I told him that 'he might depend upon it;' and in another instant I
 found myself in a fair way of keeping my promise more religiously
 than I intended; for, glancing my eye to the right, I saw the next
 field covered with the cuirassiers, some of whom were making directly
 for the gap in the hedge where I was standing.

 "I had not hitherto drawn my sword, as it was generally to be had
 at a moment's warning; but from its having been exposed to the last
 night's rain, it had now got rusted in the scabbard and refused to
 come forth! I was in a precious scrape. Mounted on my strong Flanders
 mare, and with my good old sword in my hand, I would have braved
 all the chances without a moment's hesitation; but I confess that I
 felt considerable doubts as to the propriety of standing there to be
 sacrificed without the means of making a scramble for it. My mind,
 however, was happily relieved from such an embarrassing consideration
 before my decision was required; for the next moment the cuirassiers
 were charged by our household brigade, and the infantry in our front,
 giving way at the same time under our terrific shower of musketry,
 the flying cuirassiers tumbled in among the routed infantry, followed
 by the Life Guards, who were cutting away in all directions. Hundreds
 of the infantry threw themselves down and pretended to be dead, while
 the cavalry galloped over them, and then got up and ran away. I
 never saw such a scene in all my life.

 "Lord Wellington had given orders that the troops were on no account
 to leave the position to follow up any temporary advantage; so that
 we now resumed our post, as we stood at the commencement of the
 battle, and with three companies again advanced on the knoll. I was
 told it was very ridiculous at that moment to see the number of
 vacant spots that were left nearly along the whole of the line, where
 a great part of the dark-dressed foreign troops had stood, intermixed
 with the British, when the action began.

 "Our division got considerably reduced in numbers during the last
 attack; but Lord Wellington's fostering hand sent Sir John Lambert to
 our support with the sixth division, and we now stood prepared for
 another and a more desperate struggle. Our battalion had already lost
 three officers killed and six or seven wounded; among the latter were
 Sir Andrew Barnard and Colonel Cameron.

 "Some one asking me what had become of my horse's ear was the
 first intimation I had of his being wounded; and I now found that,
 independent of one ear having been shaved close to his head (I
 suppose by a cannon-shot), a musket-ball had grazed across his
 forehead and another gone through one of his legs, but he did not
 seem much the worse for either of them.

 "Between two and three o'clock we were tolerably quiet, except from
 a thundering cannonade; and the enemy had by that time got the range
 of our position so accurately that every shot brought a ticket for
 somebody's head. An occasional gun beyond the plain, far to our left,
 marked the approach of the Prussians; but their progress was too
 slow to afford a hope of their arriving in time to take any share in
 the battle. On our right the roar of cannon and musketry had been
 incessant from the time of its commencement; but the higher ground
 near us prevented our seeing anything of what was going on."

The anguish of the fight, as far as the Rifles were concerned, came
when La Haye Sainte was carried by the French. This gave them cover
at half-musket range, whence they could waste the British front with
their fire. Their elation at having carried the farmhouse, it may be
added, gave them new fire and audacity. They believed they had broken
the British centre, that the day was won, that the stubborn British
line was about to crumble and flee! And French soldiers are never so
dangerous as when the rapture of real or imagined victory is kindling
their blood. The pressure on the sadly-thinned lines of the Rifles was
cruel, but it was borne with cool and stubborn valour:--

 "Between three and four o'clock the storm gathered again in our
 front. Our three companies on the knoll were soon involved in a
 furious fire. The Germans occupying La Haye Sainte expended all their
 ammunition and fled from the post. The French took possession of it;
 and as it flanked our knoll we were obliged to abandon it also and
 fall back again behind the hedge.

 "The loss of La Haye Sainte was of the most serious consequence as
 it afforded the enemy an establishment within our position. They
 immediately brought up two guns on our side of it, and began serving
 out some grape to us; but they were so very near that we destroyed
 their artillerymen before they could give us a second round.

 "The silencing of these guns was succeeded by a very extraordinary
 scene on the same spot. A strong regiment of Hanoverians advanced
 in line to charge the enemy out of La Haye Sainte; but they were
 themselves charged by a brigade of cuirassiers, and, excepting one
 officer, on a little black horse, who went off to the rear like a
 shot out of a shovel, I do believe that every man of them was put to
 death in about five seconds. A brigade of British light dragoons
 advanced to their relief, and a few on each side began exchanging
 thrusts; but it seemed likely to be a drawn battle between them,
 without much harm being done, when our men brought it to a crisis
 sooner than either side anticipated, for they previously had their
 rifles eagerly pointed at the cuirassiers, with a view of saving the
 perishing Hanoverians; but the fear of killing their friends withheld
 them, until the others were utterly overwhelmed, when they instantly
 opened a terrific fire on the whole concern, sending both sides to
 flight; so that, on the small space of ground, within a hundred yards
 of us, where five thousand men had been fighting the instant before,
 there was not now a living soul to be seen.

 "It made me mad to see the cuirassiers in their retreat stooping and
 stabbing at our wounded men as they lay on the ground. How I wished
 that I had been blessed with Omnipotent power for a moment, that I
 might have blighted them!

 "The same field continued to be a wild one the whole of the
 afternoon. It was a sort of duelling-post between the two armies,
 every half-hour showing a meeting of some kind upon it; but they
 never exceeded a short scramble, for men's lives were held very cheap
 there.

 "For the two or three succeeding hours there was no variety with us,
 but one continued blaze of musketry. The smoke hung so thick about,
 that, although not more than eighty yards asunder, we could only
 distinguish each other by the flashes of the pieces.

 "I shall never forget the scene which the field of battle presented
 about seven in the evening. I felt weary and worn out, less from
 fatigue than anxiety. Our division, which had stood upwards of
 five thousand men at the commencement of the battle, had gradually
 dwindled down into a solitary line of skirmishers. The 27th Regiment
 were lying literally dead, in square, a few yards behind us. My horse
 had received another shot through the leg, and one through the flap
 of the saddle, which lodged in his body, sending him a step beyond
 the pension-list. The smoke still hung so thick about us that we
 could see nothing. I walked a little way to each flank, to endeavour
 to get a glimpse of what was going on; but nothing met my eye except
 the mangled remains of men and horses, and I was obliged to return to
 my post as wise as I went.

 "I had never yet heard of a battle in which everybody was killed; but
 this seemed likely to be an exception, as all were going by turns.
 We got excessively impatient under the tame similitude of the latter
 part of the process, and burned with desire to have a last thrust at
 our respective _vis-a-vis_; for, however desperate our affairs were,
 we had still the satisfaction of seeing that theirs were worse. Sir
 John Lambert continued to stand as our support at the head of three
 good old regiments, one dead (the 27th) and two living ones, and we
 took the liberty of soliciting him to aid our views; but the Duke's
 orders on that head were so very particular that the gallant general
 had no choice.

 "Presently a cheer, which we knew to be British, commenced far to the
 right, and made every one prick up his ears--it was Lord Wellington's
 long-wished-for orders to advance; it gradually approached, growing
 louder as it drew near--we took it up by instinct, charged through
 the hedge down upon the old knoll, sending our adversaries flying
 at the point of the bayonet. Lord Wellington galloped up to us at
 the instant, and our men began to cheer him; but he called out, 'No
 cheering, my lads, but forward, and complete your victory!'

 "This movement had carried us clear of the smoke; and, to people
 who had been for so many hours enveloped in darkness, in the midst
 of destruction, and naturally anxious about the result of the day,
 the scene which now met the eye conveyed a feeling of more exquisite
 gratification than can be conceived. It was a fine summer's evening,
 just before sunset. The French were flying in one confused mass.
 British lines were seen in close pursuit, and in admirable order,
 as far as the eye could reach to the right, while the plain to the
 left was filled with Prussians. The enemy made one last attempt at a
 stand on the rising ground to our right of La Belle Alliance; but a
 charge from General Adams's brigade again threw them into a state of
 confusion, which was now inextricable, and their ruin was complete.
 Artillery, baggage, and everything belonging to them fell into our
 hands. After pursuing them until dark, we halted about two miles
 beyond the field of battle, leaving the Prussians to follow up the
 victory.

 "This was the last, the greatest, and the most uncomfortable heap of
 glory that I ever had a hand in, and may the deuce take me if I think
 that everybody waited there to see the end of it, otherwise it never
 could have been so troublesome to those who did. We were, take us all
 in all, a very bad army. Our foreign auxiliaries, who constituted
 more than half of our numerical strength, with some exceptions, were
 little better than a raw militia--a body without a soul, or like an
 inflated pillow, that gives to the touch and resumes its shape again
 when the pressure ceases--not to mention the many who went clear out
 of the field, and were only seen while plundering our baggage in
 their retreat.

 "Our heavy cavalry made some brilliant charges in the early part of
 the day; but they never knew when to stop, their ardour in following
 their advantages carrying them headlong on, until many of them 'burnt
 their fingers,' and got dispersed or destroyed. Of that gallant
 corps, the Royal Artillery, it is enough to say that they maintained
 their former reputation--the first in the world--and it was a serious
 loss to us in the latter part of the day to be deprived of this more
 powerful co-operation, from the causes already mentioned.

 "If Lord Wellington had been at the head of his old Peninsula army,
 I am confident that he would have swept his opponents off the face
 of the earth immediately after their first attack; but, with such a
 heterogeneous mixture under his command, he was obliged to submit to
 a longer day.

 "The field of battle next morning presented a frightful scene
 of carnage; it seemed as if the world had tumbled to pieces and
 three-fourths of everything destroyed in the wreck. The ground
 running parallel to the front of where we had stood was so thickly
 strewed with fallen men and horses, that it was difficult to step
 clear of their bodies; many of the former still alive, and imploring
 assistance, which it was not in our power to bestow. The usual
 salutation on meeting an acquaintance of another regiment after an
 action was to ask who had been hit? but on this occasion it was,
 'Who's alive?' Meeting one next morning, a very little fellow, I
 asked what had happened to them yesterday? 'I'll be hanged,' says
 he, 'if I know anything at all about the matter, for I was all
 day trodden in the mud and galloped over by every scoundrel who
 had a horse; and, in short, that I only owe my existence to my
 insignificance.'

 "Two of our men, on the morning of the 19th, lost their lives by a
 very melancholy accident. They were cutting up a captured ammunition
 waggon for firewood, when one of their swords, striking against a
 nail, sent a spark among the powder. When I looked in the direction
 of the explosion, I saw the two poor fellows about twenty or thirty
 feet up in the air. On falling to the ground, though lying on their
 backs and bellies, some extraordinary effort of nature, caused by
 the agony of the moment, made them spring from that position five or
 six times, to the height of eight or ten feet, just as a fish does
 when thrown on the ground after being newly caught. It was so unlike
 a scene in real life that it was impossible to witness it without
 forgetting, for a moment, the horror of their situation.

 "I ran to the spot along with others, and found that every stitch of
 clothes had been burnt off, and they were black as ink all over. They
 were still alive, and told us their names, otherwise we could not
 have recognised them; and, singular enough, they were able to walk
 off the ground with a little support, but died shortly after.

 "About twelve o'clock on the day after the battle we commenced our
 march for Paris. I shall, therefore, leave my readers at Waterloo, in
 the hope that, among the many stories of romance to which that and
 the other celebrated fields gave birth, the foregoing unsophisticated
 one of an eye-witness may not have been found altogether
 uninteresting."




II

ONE OF CRAUFURD'S VETERANS

II.--ONE OF CRAUFURD'S VETERANS


"Rifleman" Harris, an innocent-looking sheep-boy, his face brown with
the winds and rains of the Dorsetshire Downs, drifted, so to speak,
into a soldier's life pretty much as a floating leaf, blown from
some rustic valley and fallen into a rustic stream, might drift into
a great historic river, furrowed by a thousand keels, and be swept
away to unknown seas. His autobiography is curious alike in what it
omits and in what it tells. It is so barren of one class of personal
details that we are left in ignorance of when the writer was born.
He leaves himself in his own volume without a Christian name. We are
not told why he enlisted, nor where. Unlike most people undertaking
an autobiography, Rifleman Harris appears to have had no interest
whatever in himself, and he was incapable of imagining that anybody
else would be interested. But he was keenly concerned in all the
personal incidents of a soldier's life, and he describes them with a
simplicity and a directness, an economy of adjectives, and a felicity
of substantives, which makes his "Recollections" one of the freshest
and most interesting soldier autobiographies ever written.

He had some good luck as a soldier. He belonged to a famous regiment;
he served under some famous commanders; he heard the first shots fired
by British muskets in the Peninsula. But he had also much ill-luck. He
tramped, perspired, and probably swore, under South American suns in
that most ignominious of all expeditions, under the most contemptible
leader that ever wore a cocked hat--Whitelocke's fiasco at Buenos
Ayres. He next served in Portugal, and took part in the fighting at
Roliça and Vimiero. Under Sir John Moore he shared in the heroism and
the horrors of the dreadful retreat to Corunna, or rather to Vigo. That
Harris survived snow and rain and hunger, the inexpressible toils of
the long marches, the biting cold of the black unsheltered nights, as
well as the sabres of the pursuing French horsemen and the bullets of
the French skirmishers, is little less than marvellous. But he did, and
landed at Spithead, ragged, bare-footed, unshaven, with rusty musket,
hollow cheeks, and eyes that had almost gone sightless with mere
fatigue--about as stiff and hardy and unconquerable a bit of soldierly
flesh and blood as the world of that day could produce.

A British private who had known the shame of Whitelocke's South
American expedition and the distress of Moore's immortal retreat might
well think he had exhausted all the evil possibilities of a soldier's
life. But the unfortunate Harris had one more evil experience. He found
a place in the unhappy Walcheren expedition, and crept out of it with
wrecked constitution and ague-poisoned blood. He served after this in a
veteran battalion; tried hard for service in the Peninsula, but, to his
unspeakable disgust, was disqualified by a doctor with an unsympathetic
temper and an inelastic conscience, and while still only thirty-two was
discharged on a pension of sixpence a day. "For the first time," he
says, "since I had been a shepherd-lad on the Blandford downs I found
myself in plain clothes and with liberty to go and come where I liked."

But Harris never received a sixpence of his hard-earned pension, bought
with blood and sweat. Before the first payment became due Napoleon
had escaped from Elba; the veterans were called back to the ranks.
Harris, wasted with fever and shaken with ague--legacies from Walcheren
swamps--was unable to join, and forfeited his pension. He had to spend
the rest of his days making shoes and writing his "Recollections of a
Rifleman." In view of this record, perhaps, the most striking thing in
Harris' "Recollections" is their unconquerable good humour. The writer
never grumbles. No faintest accent of discontent ever steals into his
voice. His cheerfulness is invincible. He is proud of his officers;
in the best of temper with his comrades; takes mud, rain, toil, empty
stomach, and too heavy knapsack, a couch on the wet grass and under
weeping skies, the pain of wounds, and the peril of death, all as part
of the day's work, about which nobody has any right to grumble. A
soldier's life, he plainly holds, is the pleasantest in the world. No
one is better qualified than Rifleman Harris to tell to a modern and
ease-loving generation how the men of the Peninsula marched, suffered,
fought, and conquered.




CHAPTER I

THE KING'S SHILLING


Harris's "Recollections" begin with the simplicity and directness of
one of De Foe's tales:--

 "My father was a shepherd, and I was a sheep-boy from my earliest
 youth. Indeed, as soon almost as I could run I began helping my
 father to look after the sheep on the downs of Blandford, in
 Dorsetshire, where I was born. Whilst I continued to tend the flocks
 and herds under my charge, and occasionally in the long winter nights
 to learn the art of making shoes, I grew a hardy little chap, and was
 one fine day, in the year 1802, drawn as a soldier for the Army of
 Reserve. Thus, without troubling myself much about the change which
 was to take place in the hitherto quiet routine of my days, I was
 drafted into the 66th Regiment of Foot, bade good-bye to my shepherd
 companions, and was obliged to leave my father without an assistant
 to collect his flocks, just as he was beginning more than ever to
 require one; nay, indeed, I may say to want tending and looking after
 himself, for old age and infirmity were coming on him, his hair was
 growing as white as the sleet of our downs, and his countenance
 becoming as furrowed as the ploughed fields around. However, as I had
 no choice in the matter, it was quite as well that I did not grieve
 over my fate.

 "My father tried hard to buy me off, and would have persuaded the
 sergeant of the 66th that I was of no use as a soldier from having
 maimed my right hand (by breaking the forefinger when a child).
 The sergeant, however, said I was just the sort of little chap he
 wanted, and off he went, carrying me (amongst a batch of recruits he
 had collected) away with him."

Harris's earliest experiences as a soldier naturally made the deepest
impressions upon him. He found himself in a new world, with new
comrades, and under strange new laws--laws with sanctions, swift,
inevitable, and terrible--behind them. Here is one of his earlier
stories:--

 "Whilst lying at Winchester (where we remained three months), young
 as I was in the profession, I was picked out amongst others to
 perform a piece of duty that for many years afterwards remained
 deeply impressed upon my mind, and gave me the first impression of
 the stern duties of a soldier's life. A private of the 70th Regiment
 had deserted from that corps, and afterwards enlisted into several
 other regiments, indeed I was told at the time (though I cannot
 answer for so great a number) that sixteen different times he had
 received the bounty and then stolen off. Being, however, caught at
 last, he was brought to trial at Portsmouth, and sentenced by general
 court-martial to be shot.

 "The 66th received a route to Portsmouth to be present on the
 occasion, and as the execution would be a good hint to us young 'uns,
 there were four lads picked out of our corps to assist in this piece
 of duty, myself being one of the number chosen.

 "Besides these men, four soldiers from three other regiments were
 ordered on the firing-party, making sixteen in all. The place of
 execution was Portsdown Hill, near Hilsea Barracks, and the different
 regiments assembled must have composed a force of about fifteen
 thousand men, having been assembled from the Isle of Wight, from
 Chichester, Gosport, and other places. The sight was very imposing,
 and appeared to make a deep impression on all there. As for myself,
 I felt that I would have given a good round sum (had I possessed it)
 to have been in any situation rather than the one in which I now
 found myself; and when I looked into the faces of my companions, I
 saw, by the pallor and anxiety depicted in each countenance, the
 reflection of my own feelings. When all was ready, we were moved to
 the front, and the culprit was brought out. He made a short speech
 to the parade, acknowledging the justice of his sentence, and that
 drinking and evil company had brought the punishment upon him.

 "He behaved himself firmly and well, and did not seem at all to
 flinch. After being blindfolded, he was desired to kneel down behind
 a coffin which was placed on the ground, and the drum-major of
 the Hilsea depôt, giving us an expressive glance, we immediately
 commenced loading.

 "This was done in the deepest silence, and the next moment we were
 primed and ready. There was then a dreadful pause for a few moments,
 and the drum-major, again looking towards us, gave the signal before
 agreed upon (a flourish of his cane) and we levelled and fired. We
 had been previously strictly enjoined to be steady and take good aim,
 and the poor fellow, pierced by several balls, fell heavily upon his
 back; and as he lay, with his arms pinioned to his sides, I observed
 that his hands waved for a few moments, like the fins of a fish, when
 in the agonies of death. The drum-major also observed the movement,
 and, making another signal, four of our party immediately stepped up
 to the prostrate body, and placing the muzzles of their pieces to the
 head, fired, and put him out of his misery. The different regiments
 then fell back by companies, and the word being given to march past
 in slow time, when each company came in line with the body the word
 was given to 'mark time,' and then 'eyes left,' in order that we
 might all observe the terrible example. We then moved onwards, and
 marched from the ground to our different quarters.

 "The 66th stopped that night about three miles from Portsdown Hill,
 and in the morning we returned to Winchester. The officer in command
 that day, I remember, was General Whitelocke, who was afterwards
 brought to court-martial himself. This was the first time of our
 seeing that officer. The next meeting was at Buenos Ayres, and during
 the confusion of that day one of us received an order from the fiery
 Craufurd to shoot the traitor dead if he could see him in the battle,
 many others of the Rifles receiving the same order from that fine and
 chivalrous officer.

 "The unfortunate issue of the Buenos Ayres affair is matter of
 history, and I have nothing to say about it, but I well remember
 the impression it made upon us all at the time, and that Sir John
 Moore was present at Whitelocke's court-martial; General Craufurd,
 and I think General Auchmuty, Captain Eleder of the Rifles, Captain
 Dickson, and one of our privates being witnesses.

 "So enraged was Craufurd against him, that I heard say he strove
 hard to have him shot. Whitelocke's father I also heard was at
 his son's trial, and cried like an infant during the proceedings.
 Whitelocke's sword was broken over his head, I was told, and for
 months afterwards, when our men took their glass, they used to give
 as a toast, 'success to "grey hairs," but bad luck to "White-locks."'
 Indeed, that toast was drunk in all the public-houses around for many
 a day."

The 66th was shortly afterwards sent to Ireland; and Harris, who had
shown himself smart and intelligent, was put into the light company
of his regiment. While in Dublin he saw some companies of the famous
95th Rifles marching. They bore the signature of Sir John Moore's
soldierly hand on them; and Harris records that "I fell so in love
with their smart, dashing, and devil-may-care appearance that nothing
would serve me till I was a rifleman myself," and meeting a recruiting
party of the regiment, he volunteered into the second battalion. He
gives a strangely interesting account of the recruits which formed the
raw material out of which Wellington evolved the magnificent soldiers
of the Peninsula--men with whom, to use Wellington's own words, he
"could go anywhere, and do anything." Rougher, wilder material--half
savage and half child-like--than these recruits can hardly be imagined.
Certainly no such strange human material finds its way into British
barracks to-day:--

 "This recruiting-party were all Irishmen, and had been sent over from
 England to collect (amongst others) men from the Irish Militia, and
 were just about to return to England. I think they were as reckless
 and devil-may-care a set of men as ever I beheld, either before or
 since.

 "Being joined by a sergeant of the 92nd Highlanders, and a Highland
 piper of the same regiment (also a pair of real rollicking blades),
 I thought we should all have gone mad together. We started on our
 journey, one beautiful morning, in tip-top spirits, from the Royal
 Oak, at Cashel; the whole lot of us (early as it was) being three
 sheets in the wind. When we paraded before the door of the Royal Oak,
 the landlord and landlady of the inn, who were quite as lively, came
 reeling forth, with two decanters of whisky, which they thrust into
 the fists of the sergeants, making them a present of decanters and
 all, to carry along with them, and refresh themselves on the march.
 The piper then struck up, the sergeants flourished their decanters,
 and the whole rout commenced a terrific yell. We then all began to
 dance, and danced through the town, every now and then stopping for
 another pull at the whisky decanters. Thus we kept it up till we had
 danced, drank, shouted, and piped thirteen Irish miles, from Cashel
 to Clonmel. Such a day, I think, I never spent, as I enjoyed with
 these fellows; and on arriving at Clonmel, we were as 'glorious' as
 any soldiers in all Christendom need wish to be.

 "In about ten days after this, our sergeants had collected together
 a good batch of recruits, and we started for England. Some few days
 before we embarked (as if we had not been bothered enough already
 with the unruly Paddies), we were nearly pestered to death with a
 detachment of old Irishwomen, who came from different parts (on
 hearing of their sons having enlisted), in order to endeavour to
 get them away from us. Following us down to the water's edge, they
 hung to their offspring and, dragging them away, sent forth such
 dismal howls and moans that it was quite distracting to hear them.
 The lieutenant commanding the party, ordered me (being the only
 Englishman present) to endeavour to keep them back. It was, however,
 as much as I could do to preserve myself being torn to pieces by
 them, and I was glad to escape out of their hands.

 "At length we got our lads safe on board, and set sail for England.
 No sooner were we out at sea, however, than our troubles began afresh
 with these hot-headed Paddies; for, having now nothing else to do,
 they got up a dreadful quarrel amongst themselves, and a religious
 row immediately took place, the Catholics reviling the Protestants
 to such a degree that a general fight ensued. The poor Protestants
 (being few in number) soon got the worst of it, and as fast as we
 made matters up among them, they broke out afresh and began the riot
 again.

 "From Bath we marched to Andover, and when we came upon Salisbury
 Plain, our Irish friends got up a fresh row. At first they appeared
 uncommonly pleased with the scene, and, dispersing over the soft
 carpet of the Downs, commenced a series of Irish jigs till at length
 as one of the Catholics was setting to his partner (a Protestant), he
 gave a whoop and a leap into the air, and at the same time (as if he
 couldn't bear the partnership of a heretic any longer), dealt him a
 tremendous blow with his shillelagh, and stretched him upon the sod.
 This was quite enough, and the bludgeons immediately began playing
 away at a tremendous rate.

 "The poor Protestants were again quickly disposed of, and then arose
 a cry of 'Huzza for the Wicklow boys,' 'Huzza for the Connaught
 boys,' 'Huzza for Munster,' and 'Huzza for Ulster!' They then
 recommenced the fight as if they were determined to make an end
 of their soldiering altogether upon Salisbury Plains. We had, I
 remember, four officers with us, and they did their best to pacify
 their pugnacious recruits. One thrust himself amongst them, but was
 instantly knocked down for his pains, so that he was glad enough to
 escape. After they had completely tired themselves, they began to
 slacken in their endeavours, and apparently to feel the effect of the
 blows they dealt each other, and at length suffering themselves to be
 pacified, the officers got them into Andover.

 "Scarcely had we been a couple of hours there, and obtained some
 refreshment, ere these incorrigible blackguards again commenced
 quarrelling, and collecting together in the streets, created so
 serious a disturbance that the officers, getting together a body
 of constables, seized some of the most violent and succeeded in
 thrusting them into the town jail; upon this their companions again
 collected, and endeavoured to break open the prison gates.

 "Baffled in this attempt, they rushed through the streets knocking
 down everybody they met. The drums now commenced beating up for a
 volunteer corps of the town, which, quickly mustering, drew up in
 the street before the jail, and immediately were ordered to load
 with ball. This somewhat pacified the rioters, and our officers
 persuading them to listen to a promise of pardon for the past, peace
 was at length restored amongst them."

Harris's first experience of active service was in that obscure and
more than half-forgotten expedition to Copenhagen in 1807. Harris found
that coming under fire was, on the whole, an exhilarating experience.
Certainly the manner in which he bore himself when first he heard the
whistle of hostile bullets showed he had the makings of a good soldier.

 "The expedition consisted of about 30,000 men, and at the moment of
 our getting on shore, the whole force set up one simultaneous and
 tremendous cheer, a sound I cannot describe, it seemed so inspiring.
 This, indeed, was the first time of my hearing the style in which our
 men give tongue when they get near the enemy, though afterwards my
 ears became pretty well accustomed to such sounds.

 "As soon as we got on shore the Rifles were pushed forward as the
 advance, in chain order, through some thick woods of fir, and when
 we had cleared these woods and approached Copenhagen, sentries were
 posted on the roads and openings leading towards the town, in order
 to intercept all comers and prevent all supplies. Such posts we
 occupied for about three days and nights, whilst the town was being
 fired on by our shipping. I rather think this was the first time of
 Congreve rockets being brought into play, and as they rushed through
 the air in the dark, they appeared like so many fiery serpents,
 creating, I should think, terrible dismay amongst the besieged.

 "As the main army came up, we advanced and got as near under the
 walls of the place as we could without being endangered by the fire
 from our own shipping. We now received orders ourselves to commence
 firing, and the rattling of the guns I shall not easily forget.

 "I felt so much exhilarated that I could hardly keep back, and was
 checked by the commander of the company (Captain Leech), who called
 to me by name to keep my place. About this time, my front-rank man,
 a tall fellow named Jack Johnson, showed a disposition as though
 the firing had on him an effect the reverse of what it had on many
 others of the company, for he seemed inclined to hang back, and once
 or twice turned round in my face. I was a rear-rank man, and porting
 my piece, in the excitement of the moment I swore that if he did not
 keep his ground, I would shoot him dead on the spot, so that he found
 it would be quite as dangerous for him to return as to go on.

 "I feel sorry to record the want of courage of this man, but I do
 so with the less pain as it gives me the opportunity of saying
 that during many years' arduous service, it is the only instance I
 remember of a British soldier endeavouring to hold back when his
 comrades were going forward. Indeed, Johnson was never again held in
 estimation amongst the Rifle corps; for the story got wind that I had
 threatened to shoot him for cowardice in the field, and Lieutenant
 Cox mentioned to the colonel that he had overheard my doing so; and
 such was the contempt the man was held in by the Rifles, that he was
 soon afterwards removed from amongst us to a veteran battalion."




CHAPTER II

IN THE PENINSULA


Harris's Peninsular experiences began in 1808. The Rifles formed part
of a modest force of less than 10,000 men about to sail for a raid on
the Spanish colonies in South America. But Napoleon had just effected
the highly ingenious but quite felonious transfer of the Spanish crown
to the head of his brother Joseph. As a result all Spain rose in revolt
against French arms; and what yesterday had been for England an enemy
to be plundered, became to-day an ally to be helped. The expedition
which was intended to destroy Spanish colonies was, therefore,
despatched to assist in the deliverance of Spain itself.

An even larger share than usual of the national gift for blundering
at the beginning of a campaign was shown at the start of the great
operations in the Peninsula. The force despatched was utterly
inadequate. It was 20,000 men against 120,000. But even this little
force was broken into fragments and despatched on totally unrelated
adventures. Spencer was sent with 10,000 men to Cadiz; another body
of 10,000 was despatched to the Tagus. By a happy chance--perhaps it
would be fair to say by a happy flash of insight--Wellesley was given
command of this latter expedition; but Sir Harry Burrard was promptly
despatched to supersede Wellesley, and Sir Hew Dalrymple to supersede
Sir Harry Burrard! Under this delightful arrangement the astonished
British army had three distinct commanders within the space of
twenty-four hours.

Harris describes the long and loitering pause at Cork, where the ships
lay for six weeks, without disembarking the unfortunate soldiers. At
last, on July 12, 1808, the expedition sailed. The landing-place chosen
was the mouth of the Mondego. The Rifles, Harris records with delight,
"were the first out of the ships. We were, indeed, always in the front
in an advance and in the rear in a retreat." The heats of a Spanish
summer lay on the plains and the hills; the roads were mere ribbons of
sand, the watercourses were parched; and Harris's first experience of
marching under service conditions, and on sandy Spanish roads, was very
trying. He says:--

 "The weight I myself toiled under was tremendous, and I often wonder
 at the strength I possessed at this period, which enabled me to
 endure it; for, indeed, I am convinced that many of our infantry sank
 and died under the weight of their knapsacks alone. For my own part,
 being a handicraft, I marched under a weight sufficient to impede
 the free motions of a donkey! for besides my well-filled kit, there
 was the greatcoat rolled on its top, my blanket and camp kettle, my
 haversack, stuffed full of leather for repairing the men's shoes,
 together with a hammer and other tools (the lap-stone I took the
 liberty of flinging to the devil), ship-biscuit and beef for three
 days. I also carried my canteen filled with water, my hatchet and
 rifle, and eighty rounds of ball cartridge in my pouch; this last,
 except the beef and biscuit, being the best thing I owned, and which
 I always gave the enemy the benefit of when opportunity offered.

 "Altogether the quantity of things I had on my shoulders was enough
 and more than enough for my wants, sufficient, indeed, to sink a
 little fellow of five feet seven inches into the earth. Nay, so
 awkwardly was the load our men bore in those days placed upon their
 backs, that the free motion of the body was impeded, the head held
 down from the pile at the back of the neck, and the soldier half
 beaten before he came to the scratch."

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

 "The next day we again advanced, and being in a state of the utmost
 anxiety to come up with the French, neither the heat of the burning
 sun, long miles, nor heavy knapsacks were able to diminish our
 ardour. Indeed, I often look back with wonder at the light-hearted
 style, the jollity, and reckless indifference with which men who were
 destined in so short a time to fall, hurried onwards to the field of
 strife; seemingly without a thought of anything but the sheer love of
 meeting the foe and the excitement of the battle."

Harris's "Recollections" have absolutely no chronology, or chronology
only of the most distracted and planless character. A clear thread of
narrative is to be obtained only by the process of re-arranging all his
incidents.

The opening skirmish--the first splutter of British muskets in the long
Peninsular campaigns--took place on August 15, and naturally the 95th,
which formed the British outposts, were the actors in the combat. They
erred by over-vehemence. They fell on so eagerly, and pursued so fast
and so far, that they presently found themselves charging the entire
French army, and were drawn off with some loss. Harris's description
is brief:--

 "It was on the 15th of August when we first came up with the French,
 and their skirmishers immediately commenced operations by raining a
 shower of balls upon us as we advanced, which we returned without
 delay.

 "The first man that was hit was Lieutenant Bunbury; he fell pierced
 through the head with a musket-ball, and died almost immediately. I
 thought I never heard such a tremendous noise as the firing made on
 this occasion, and the men on both sides of me, I could occasionally
 observe, were falling fast. Being over-matched, we retired to a
 rising ground, or hillock, in our rear, and formed there all round
 its summit, standing three deep, the front rank kneeling. In this
 position we remained all night, expecting the whole host upon us
 every moment. At daybreak, however, we received instructions to fall
 back as quickly as possible upon the main body. Having done so, we
 now lay down for a few hours' rest, and then again advanced to feel
 for the enemy."

Wellington described the affair as "unpleasant" from the general's
point of view; but apparently the Rifles found it very enjoyable.

On August 17 Roliça was fought. The British again erred by
over-eagerness, the 29th in particular suffering heavy losses owing to
the fact that the regiment went straight at the enemy's front instead
of turning its flank. The battle, however, was on the British side
a bit of characteristic, dogged, and straight-forward fighting. The
French flank was turned, their front driven in, and they were compelled
to fall back from one position to another till they finally abandoned
the fight. Here is Harris's account, collated from the different parts
of his volume:--

 "On the 17th, being still in front, we again came up with the French,
 and I remember observing the pleasing effect afforded by the sun's
 rays glancing upon their arms as they formed in order of battle to
 receive us. Moving on in extended order under whatever cover the
 nature of the ground afforded, together with some companies of the
 60th, we began a sharp fire upon them, and thus commenced the battle
 of Roliça.

 "I do not pretend to give a description of this or any other battle
 I have been present at. All I can do is to tell the things which
 happened immediately around me, and that, I think, is as much as a
 private soldier can be expected to do.

 "Soon afterwards the firing commenced, and we had advanced pretty
 close upon the enemy. Taking advantage of whatever cover I could find
 I threw myself down behind a small bank, where I lay so secure, that
 although the Frenchmen's bullets fell pretty thickly around, I was
 enabled to knock several over without being dislodged, in fact, I
 fired away every round I had in my pouch whilst lying on this spot.
 At length after a sharp contest we forced them to give ground, and
 following them up, drove them from their position in the heights, and
 hung upon their skirts till they made another stand, and then the
 game began again.

 "The 29th Regiment received so terrible a fire that I saw the right
 wing almost annihilated, and the colonel (I think his name was
 Lennox[2]) lay sprawling amongst the rest. We had ourselves caught it
 pretty handsomely, for there was no cover for us, and we were rather
 too near. The living skirmishers were lying beside heaps of their own
 dead, but still we had held our own till the battalion regiments came
 up. 'Fire and retire'[3] is a very good sound, but the Rifles were
 not over fond of such notes. We never performed that manœuvre except
 when it was made pretty plain to us that it was quite necessary; the
 29th, however, had got their faring here at this time, and the shock
 of that fire seemed to stagger the whole line and make them recoil.
 At the moment a little confusion appeared in the ranks, I thought.
 Lord Hill was near at hand and saw it, and I observed him come
 galloping up. He put himself at the head of the regiment and restored
 them to order in a moment. Pouring a regular and sharp fire upon the
 enemy he galled them in return; and, remaining with the 29th till he
 brought them to the charge, quickly sent the foe to the right-about.
 It seemed to me that few men could have conducted the business with
 more coolness and quietude of manner under such a storm of balls as
 he was exposed to. Indeed I have never forgotten him from that day.

 "At the time I was remarking these matters (loading and firing as
 I lay), another circumstance divided my attention for a while, and
 made me forget even the gallant conduct of General Hill. A man near
 me uttered a scream of agony, and looking from the 29th, who were
 on my right, to the left, whence the screech had come, I saw one of
 our sergeants, named Fraser, sitting in a doubled-up position, and
 swaying backwards and forwards as though he had got a terrible pain
 in his bowels. He continued to make so much complaint that I arose
 and went to him, for he was rather a crony of mine.

 "'Oh, Harris,' said he, as I took him in my arms, 'I shall die! I
 shall die! The agony is so great that I cannot bear it.'

 "It was, indeed, dreadful to look upon him; the froth came from his
 mouth, and the perspiration poured from his face. Thank Heaven! he
 was soon out of pain, and, laying him down, I returned to my place.
 Poor fellow! he suffered more for the short time that he was dying
 than any man I think I ever saw in the same circumstances. I had the
 curiosity to return and look at him after the battle. A musket-ball,
 I found, had taken him sideways and gone through both groins.

 "Within about half-an-hour after this I left Sergeant Fraser, and,
 indeed, for the time had as completely forgotten him as if he had
 died a hundred years back. The sight of so much bloodshed around will
 not suffer the mind to dwell long on any particular casualty, even
 though it happen to one's dearest friend. There was no time either
 to think, for all was action with us Rifles just at this moment, and
 the barrel of my piece was so hot from continual firing that I could
 hardly bear to touch it, and was obliged to grasp the stock beneath
 the iron, as I continued to blaze away.

 "James Ponton was another crony of mine (a gallant fellow!); he had
 pushed himself in front of me, and was checked by one of our officers
 for his rashness. 'Keep back, you Ponton!' the lieutenant said to
 him more than once. But Ponton was not to be restrained by anything
 but a bullet when in action. This time he got one which, striking
 him in the thigh, I suppose cut an artery, for he died quickly. The
 Frenchmen's balls were flying very wickedly at that moment; and I
 crept up to Ponton, and took shelter by lying behind, and making a
 rest for my rifle of his dead body. It strikes me that I revenged his
 death by the assistance of his carcass. At any rate I tried my best
 to hit his enemies hard.

 "There were two small buildings in our front, and the French, having
 managed to get into them, annoyed us much from that quarter. A small
 rise in the ground close before these houses also favoured them; and
 our men were being handled very severely in consequence. They became
 angry, and wouldn't stand it any longer. One of the skirmishers
 jumping up, rushed forward, crying, 'Over boys!--over! over!' when
 instantly the whole line responded to the cry, 'Over! over! over!'
 They ran along the grass like wildfire, and dashed at the rise,
 fixing their sword-bayonets as they ran. The French light bobs
 could not stand the sight, but turned about and fled, and, getting
 possession of their ground, we were soon inside the buildings.

 "After the battle was over I stepped across to the other house I have
 mentioned, in order to see what was going on there, for the one I
 remained in was now pretty well filled with the wounded (both French
 and English) who had managed to get there for a little shelter. Two
 or three surgeons also had arrived at this house, and were busily
 engaged in giving their assistance to the wounded, now also here
 lying as thickly as in the building which I had left; but what struck
 me most forcibly was, that from the circumstance of some wine-butts
 having been left in the apartment, and their having in the engagement
 been perforated by bullets, and otherwise broken, the red wine had
 escaped most plentifully, and ran down upon the earthen floor where
 the wounded were lying, so that many of them were soaked in the wine
 with which their blood was mingled.

 "The Rifles fought well this day, and we lost many men. They
 seemed in high spirits, and delighted at having driven the enemy
 before them. Joseph Cochan was by my side loading and firing very
 industriously about this period of the day. Thirsting with heat and
 action he lifted his canteen to his mouth, 'Here's to you, old boy,'
 he said, as he took a pull at its contents. As he did so a bullet
 went through the canteen, and, perforating his brain, killed him in
 a moment. Another man fell close to him almost immediately, struck
 by a ball in the thigh. Indeed, we caught it severely just here, and
 the old iron was also playing its part amongst our poor fellows very
 merrily. When the roll was called after the battle, the females who
 missed their husbands came along the front of the line to inquire of
 the survivors whether they knew anything about them. Amongst other
 names I heard that of Cochan called in a female voice, without being
 replied to.

 "The name struck me, and I observed the poor woman who had called it,
 as she stood sobbing before us, and apparently afraid to make further
 inquiries about her husband. No man had answered to his name, or had
 any account to give of his fate. I myself had observed him fall, as
 related before, whilst drinking from his canteen; but as I looked at
 the poor sobbing creature before me, I felt unable to tell her of his
 death. At length Captain Leech observed her, and called out to the
 company--

 "'Does any man here know what has happened to Cochan? If so, let him
 speak out at once.'

 "Upon this order I immediately related what I had seen, and told
 the manner of his death. After a while Mrs. Cochan appeared anxious
 to seek the spot where her husband fell, and, in the hope of still
 finding him alive, asked me to accompany her over the field. She
 trusted, notwithstanding what I had told her, to find him yet alive.

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

 "I told him I was sure I could, as I had remarked many objects whilst
 looking for cover during the skirmishing.

 "'Go then,' said the captain, 'and show the poor woman the spot, as
 she seems so desirous of finding the body.'

 "I accordingly took my way over the ground we had fought upon, she
 following and sobbing after me, and, quickly reaching the spot where
 her husband's body lay, pointed it out to her.

 "She now soon discovered all her hopes were in vain; she embraced a
 stiffened corpse, and after rising and contemplating his disfigured
 face for some minutes, with hands clasped and tears streaming down
 her cheeks, she took a prayer-book from her pocket, and, kneeling
 down, repeated the service for the dead over the body. When she
 had finished she appeared a good deal comforted, and I took the
 opportunity of beckoning to a pioneer I saw near with some other
 men, and together we dug a hole and quickly buried the body. Mrs.
 Cochan then returned with me to the company to which her husband
 had been attached, and laid herself down upon the heath near us.
 She lay amongst some other females who were in the same distressing
 circumstances with herself, with the sky for her canopy and a turf
 for her pillow, for we had no tents with us. Poor woman! I pitied her
 much; but there was no remedy. If she had been a duchess she must
 have fared the same. She was a handsome woman, I remember, and the
 circumstance of my having seen her husband fall, and accompanied her
 to find his body, begot a sort of intimacy between us. What little
 attention I could pay her during the hardships of the march I did,
 and I also offered on the first opportunity to marry her. 'She had,
 however, received too great a shock on the occasion of her husband's
 death ever to think of another soldier,' she said; she therefore
 thanked me for my good feeling towards her, but declined my offer,
 and left us soon afterwards for England.

 "After I had left the house I have alluded to in the account of the
 battle of Roliça, I walked a few paces onwards, when I saw some of
 the Rifles lying about and resting. I laid myself down amongst them,
 for I felt fatigued. A great many of the French skirmishers were
 lying dead just about this spot. I recollect that they had long white
 frock-coats on, with the eagle in front of their caps. This was one
 of the places from which they had greatly annoyed us; and, to judge
 from the appearance of the dead and wounded strewed around, we had
 returned the compliment pretty handsomely. I lay upon my back, and,
 resting upon my knapsack, examined the enemy in the distance. Whilst
 I lay watching them, I observed a dead man directly opposite to me
 whose singular appearance had not at first caught my eye. He was
 lying on his side amongst some burnt-up bushes, and whether the heat
 of the firing here had set these bushes on fire, or from whatever
 cause they had been ignited, I cannot take upon me to say; but
 certain it is (for several of my companions saw it as well as myself,
 and cracked many a joke upon the poor fellow's appearance), that this
 man, whom we guessed to have been French, was as completely roasted
 as if he had been spitted before a good kitchen-fire. He was burnt
 quite brown, every stitch of clothes was singed off, and he was drawn
 all up like a dried frog. I called the attention of one or two men
 near me, and we examined him, turning him about with our rifles with
 no little curiosity. I remember now, with some surprise, that the
 miserable fate of this poor fellow called forth from us very little
 sympathy, but seemed only to be a subject of mirth."

Vimiero followed hard on Roliça, being fought only four days
afterwards. In this battle the French attacked, and their onfall was
marked by high daring and tactical skill. But the British out-fought as
their general out-manœuvred the French, and Junot was only saved from
complete destruction by the circumstance that Sir Harry Burrard, at the
very moment of victory, displaced Wellesley in command, and ordered the
pursuit to cease. The Rifles were in the skirmishing line, and were
naturally driven back when the French advanced in mass. The steadfast
British line, however, took very badly the retreat of the skirmishers,
as Harris, in amusing fashion, records. Harris's account is interesting
as a picture of what may be called the domestic details of the
fighting, the preparations for it, the rough jesting of the fighting
line, the fashion in which individual soldiers fought and died. There
is, indeed, an almost Homeric touch in Harris's picture of individual
combats. Here is his story of how the Rifles fought at Vimiero:--

 "It was on the 21st of August that we commenced fighting the battle
 of Vimiero.

 "The French came down upon us in a column, and the Riflemen
 immediately commenced a sharp fire upon them from whatever cover
 they could get a shelter behind, whilst our cannon played upon them
 from our rear. I saw regular lanes torn through their ranks as they
 advanced, which were immediately closed up again as they marched
 steadily on. Whenever we saw a round shot thus go through the mass we
 raised a shout of delight.

 "One of our corporals, named Murphy, was the first man in the Rifles
 who was hit that morning, and I remember more particularly remarking
 the circumstance from his apparently having a presentiment of his
 fate before the battle began. He was usually an active fellow, and up
 to this time had shown himself a good and brave soldier, but on this
 morning he seemed unequal to his duty. General Fane and Major Travers
 were standing together on an early part of this day. The general had
 a spy-glass in his hand, and for some time looked anxiously at the
 enemy. Suddenly he gave the word to fall in, and immediately all
 was bustle amongst us. The Honourable Captain Pakenham spoke very
 sharply to Murphy, who appeared quite dejected and out of spirits,
 I observed. He had a presentiment of death, which is by no means an
 uncommon circumstance, and I have observed it once or twice since
 this battle.

 "Others beside myself noticed Murphy on this morning, and as we
 had reason to know he was not ordinarily deficient in courage, the
 circumstance was talked of after the battle was over. He was the
 first man shot that day.

 "Just before the battle commenced in earnest, and whilst the officers
 were busily engaged with their companies, shouting the word of
 command, and arranging matters of moment, Captain Leech ordered a
 section of our men to move off, at double quick, and take possession
 of a windmill, which was on our left. I was amongst this section,
 and set off full cry towards the mill, when Captain Leech espied
 and roared out to me by name to return--'Hello there! you Harris!'
 he called, 'fall out of that section directly. We want you here, my
 man.' I, therefore, wheeled out of the rank, and returned to him.
 'You fall in amongst the men here, Harris,' he said, 'I shall not
 send you to that post. The cannon will play upon the mill in a few
 moments like hail; and what shall we do,' he continued laughing,
 'without our head shoemaker to repair our shoes?'

 "It is long since these transactions took place. But I remember the
 words of the captain as if they had been uttered but yesterday;
 for that which was spoken in former years in the field has made
 a singular impression on my mind. As I looked about me, whilst
 standing enranked, and just before the commencement of the battle,
 I thought it the most imposing sight the world could produce. Our
 lines glittering with bright arms; the stern features of the men,
 as they stood with their eyes fixed unalterably upon the enemy; the
 proud colours of England floating over the heads of the different
 battalions; and the dark cannon on the rising ground, and all in
 readiness to commence the awful work of death, with a noise that
 would deafen the whole multitude. Altogether, the sight had a
 singular and terrible effect upon the feelings of a youth, who, a few
 short months before, had been a solitary shepherd upon the Downs of
 Dorsetshire, and had never contemplated any other sort of life than
 the peaceful occupation of watching the innocent sheep as they fed
 upon the grassy turf.

 "The first cannon shot I saw fired, I remember, was a miss. The
 artilleryman made a sad bungle, and the ball went wide of the mark.
 We were all looking anxiously to see the effect of this shot; and
 another of the gunners (a red-haired man) rushed at the fellow who
 had fired, and in the excitement of the moment, knocked him head over
 heels with his fists. 'D-- you for a fool,' he said; 'what sort of
 a shot do you call that? Let me take the gun.' He accordingly fired
 the next shot himself, as soon as the gun was loaded, and so truly
 did he point it at the French column on the hillside, that we saw the
 fatal effect of the destructive missile by the lane it made and the
 confusion it caused.

 "Our Riflemen (who at the moment were amongst the guns) upon seeing
 this, set up a tremendous shout of delight, and the battle commencing
 immediately, we were all soon hard at work.

 "I myself was very soon so hotly engaged, loading and firing away,
 enveloped in the smoke I created, and the cloud which hung about me
 from the continued fire of my comrades, that I could see nothing for
 a few minutes but the red flash of my own piece amongst the white
 vapour clinging to my very clothes. This has often seemed to me the
 greatest drawback upon our present system of fighting; for whilst in
 such state, on a calm day, until some friendly breeze of wind clears
 the space around, a soldier knows no more of his position and what is
 about to happen in his front, or what has happened (even amongst his
 own companions) than the very dead lying around.

 "Such is my remembrance of the commencement of the battle of Vimiero.
 The battle began on a fine bright day, and the sun played on the
 arms of the enemy's battalions, as they came on, as if they had been
 tipped with gold. The battle soon became general; the smoke thickened
 around, and often I was obliged to stop firing and dash it aside from
 my face, and try in vain to get sight of what was going on, whilst
 groans and shouts and a noise of cannon and musketry appeared almost
 to shake the very ground. It seemed hell upon earth, I thought.

 "A man named John Low stood before me at this moment, and he turned
 round during a pause in our exertions, and addressed me: 'Harris, you
 humbug,' he said, 'you have plenty of money about you, I know, for
 you are always staying about and picking up what you can find on the
 field. But I think this will be your last field-day, old boy. A good
 many of us will catch it, I suspect, to-day,' 'You are right, Low,' I
 said, 'I have got nine guineas in my pack, and if I get shot to-day,
 and you yourself escape, it's quite at your service. In the meantime,
 however, if you see any symptoms of my wishing to flinch in this
 business, I hope you will shoot me with your own hand.'

 "Low as well as myself survived this battle, and after it was over,
 whilst we sat down with our comrades and rested, amongst other
 matters talked over, Low told them of our conversation during the
 heat of the day, and the money I had collected, and the Rifles from
 that time had a great respect for me. It is, indeed, singular how
 a man loses or gains caste with his comrades from his behaviour,
 and how closely he is observed in the field. The officers, too, are
 commented upon and closely observed. The men are very proud of those
 who are brave in the field, and kind and considerate to the soldiers
 under them. An act of kindness done by an officer has often during
 the battle been the cause of his life being saved. Nay, whatever
 folks may say upon the matter, I know from experience that in our
 army the men like best to be officered by gentlemen, men whose
 education has rendered them more kind in manners than your coarse
 officer, sprung from obscure origin, and whose style is brutal and
 overbearing.

 "During the battle I remarked the gallant style in which the 50th,
 Major Napier's regiment, came to the charge. They dashed upon
 the enemy like a torrent breaking bounds, and the French, unable
 even to bear the sight of them, turned and fled. Methinks at this
 moment I can hear the cheer of the British soldiers in the charge,
 and the clatter of the Frenchmen's accoutrements, as they turned
 in an instant, and went off as hard as they could run for it. I
 remember, too, our feelings towards the enemy on that occasion was
 the north side of friendly, for they had been firing upon us Rifles
 very sharply, greatly outnumbering our skirmishers, and appearing
 inclined to drive us off the face of the earth. Their Lights, and
 Grenadiers, I, for the first time, particularly remarked on that day.
 The Grenadiers (the 70th, I think), our men seemed to know well.
 They were all fine-looking young men, wearing red shoulder-knots and
 tremendous-looking moustaches. As they came swarming upon us, they
 rained a perfect shower of balls, which we returned quite as sharply.
 Whenever one of them was knocked over our men called out, 'There goes
 another of Boney's Invincibles.'

 "In the main body immediately in our rear, were the second battalion
 52nd, the 50th, the second battalion 43rd, and a German corps, whose
 number I do not remember, besides several other regiments. The whole
 line seemed annoyed and angered at seeing the Rifles outnumbered by
 the Invincibles, and as we fell back, 'firing and retiring,' galling
 them handsomely as we did so, the men cried out (as it were with one
 voice) to charge. 'D--n them!' they roared, 'charge! charge!' General
 Fane, however, restrained their impetuosity. He desired them to stand
 fast and keep their ground.

 "'Don't be too eager, men,' he said, as coolly as if we were on
 drill-parade in old England; 'I don't want you to advance just yet.
 Well done, 95th!' he called out, as he galloped up and down the
 line; 'well done, 43rd, 52nd, and well done all. I'll not forget,
 if I live, to report your conduct to-day. They shall hear of it in
 England, my lads!'

 "A man named Brotherwood, of the 95th, at this moment rushed up
 to the general, and presented him with a green feather, which he
 had torn out of the cap of a French light-infantry soldier he had
 killed. 'God bless you, general!' he said; 'wear this for the sake
 of the 95th.' I saw the general take the feather and stick it in his
 cocked hat. The next minute he gave the word to charge, and down came
 the whole line, through a tremendous fire of cannon and musketry--and
 dreadful was the slaughter as they rushed onwards. As they came up
 with us, we sprang to our feet, gave one hearty cheer, and charged
 along with them, treading over our own dead and wounded, who lay in
 the front. The 50th were next us as we went, and I recollect, as I
 said, the firmness of that regiment in the charge. They appeared like
 a wall of iron. The enemy turned and fled, the cavalry dashing upon
 them as they went off.

 "It was just at the close of the battle of Vimiero; the dreadful
 turmoil and noise of the engagement had hardly subsided, and I began
 to look into the faces of the men close around me, to see who had
 escaped the dangers of the hour. Four or five days back I had done
 the same thing at Roliça. One feels, indeed, a sort of curiosity
 to know, after such a scene, who is remaining alive amongst the
 companions endeared by good conduct, or disliked for bad character,
 during the hardships of the campaign. I saw that the ranks of the
 Riflemen looked very thin; it seemed to me one-half had gone down. We
 had four companies of the 95th, and were commanded that day by Major
 Travers. He was a tight hand, but a soldier likes that better than a
 slovenly officer; and indeed, he was deservedly beloved by all who
 knew him.

 "I had observed him more than once during this day, spurring here
 and there, keeping the men well up, and apparently in the highest
 spirits. He could not have enjoyed himself more, I am sure, if he
 had been at a horse-race, or following a good pack of hounds. The
 battle was just over; a flag of truce had come over from the French;
 General Kellerman, I think, brought it. We threw ourselves down where
 we were standing when the fire ceased. A Frenchman lay close beside
 me; he was dying, and called to me for water, which I understood
 him to require more from his manner than his words (he pointed to
 his mouth). I need not say that I got up and gave it him. Whilst
 I did so, down galloped the major in front, just in the same good
 spirits he had been all day; plunging along, avoiding, with some
 little difficulty, the dead and dying which were strewed about. He
 was never a very good-looking man, being hard-featured and thin--a
 hatchet-faced man, as we used to say. But he was a regular good
 'un--a real English soldier, and that's better than if he had been
 the handsomest ladies' man in the army.

 "The major just now disclosed what none of us, I believe, knew
 before, namely, that his head was bald as a coot's, and that he
 covered the nakedness of his nob, up to the present time, by a
 flowing Caxon, which, during the heat of the action, had somehow been
 dislodged, and was lost; yet was the major riding hither and thither,
 digging the spurs into his horse's flanks, and just as busy as before
 the firing had ceased. 'A guinea,' he kept crying as he rode, 'to
 any man who will find my wig!' The men, I remember, notwithstanding
 the sight of the wounded and dead around them, burst into shouts of
 laughter at him as he went; and, 'a guinea to any man who will find
 my wig,' was the saying amongst us long after that affair."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 2: It was Colonel Lake.]

[Footnote 3: "Fire and retire"--one of the bugle sounds to the
skirmishers when hard pressed.]




CHAPTER III

WHEN THE FIGHT IS OVER


Harris sees with characteristic clearness of vision, and describes,
with almost appalling _vraisemblance_, the grim scenes of the
battle-field after the fiery tide of battle has ebbed from it. He
says:--

 "After the day's work was over, whilst strolling about the field,
 just upon the spot where this charge had taken place, I remarked a
 soldier of the 43rd and a French grenadier both dead, and lying close
 together. They had apparently killed each other at the same moment,
 for both weapons remained in the bodies of the slain. Brotherwood was
 lying next me during a part of this day; he was a Leicestershire man,
 and was killed afterwards by a cannon ball at Vittoria. I remember
 his death more particularly from the circumstance of that very ball
 killing three of the company at the same moment, viz., Lieutenant
 Hopwood, Patrick Mahone, and himself. Brotherwood was amongst the
 skirmishers with me on this day. He was always a lively fellow, but
 rather irritable in disposition. Just as the French went to the
 right-about, I remember he d--d them furiously, and all his bullets
 being gone, he grabbed a razor from his haversack, rammed it down,
 and fired it after them.

 "During this day I myself narrowly escaped being killed by our own
 dragoons, for somehow or other in the confusion I fell whilst they
 were charging, and the whole squadron thundering past just missed
 me as I lay amongst the dead and wounded. Tired and over-weighted
 with my knapsack and all my shoemaking implements, I lay where I had
 fallen for a short time and watched the cavalry as they gained the
 enemy. I observed a fine gallant-looking officer leading them on in
 that charge. He was a brave fellow, and bore himself like a hero;
 with his sword waving in the air he cheered the men on, as he went
 dashing upon the enemy and hewing and slashing at them in tremendous
 style. I watched for him as the dragoons came off after that charge,
 but saw him no more; he had fallen. Fine fellow! his conduct indeed
 made an impression upon me that I shall never forget, and I was told
 afterwards that he was a brother of Sir John Eustace.

 "A French soldier was lying beside me at this time; he was badly
 wounded, and hearing him moan as he lay, after I had done looking at
 the cavalry I turned my attention to him, and getting up lifted his
 head and poured some water into his mouth. He was dying fast; but he
 thanked me in a foreign language, which, although I did not exactly
 understand, I could easily make out by the look he gave me. Mullins,
 of the Rifles, who stepped up whilst I supported his head, d--d me
 for a fool for my pains. 'Better knock out his brains, Harris,' said
 he, 'he has done us mischief enough, I'll be bound for it, to-day.'"

Harris, it will be noticed, has no reserves. He relates incidents
which can hardly be regarded as creditable to the character of the
British private, and does it with an amusing unconsciousness as to the
impression his stories will produce on readers of a more sensitive
age. The British soldier of that day had a rough chivalry of his own.
He faced his foe gallantly on the battle-field. He would maintain a
friendly barter of spirits and rations with him when night had fallen
on contiguous bivouacs. But when his enemy was dead, and no more
fighting remained to be done, and no exchange of clandestine brandy was
possible, then the British private would empty his foeman's pockets
or take a pair of serviceable boots from his feet with the easiest
nonchalance. The transaction, he considered, did not injure the dead,
and it contributed to the comfort of the living. So Harris's tale of
the plundering and the night scenes of a battle-field resemble those
to be found in Smollett's "Count Fathom"--with this superiority on the
side of Harris, that his tales are transcripts of actual facts:--

 "After the battle I strolled about the field, in order to see if
 there was anything to be found worth picking up amongst the dead. The
 first thing I saw was a three-pronged silver fork, which, as it lay
 by itself, had most likely been dropped by some person who had been
 on the lookout before me. A little farther on I saw a French soldier
 sitting against a small rise in the ground or bank. He was wounded
 in the throat and appeared very faint, the bosom of his coat being
 saturated with the blood which had flowed down. By his side lay his
 cap, and close to that was a bundle containing a quantity of gold and
 silver crosses, which I concluded he had plundered from some convent
 or church. He looked the picture of a sacrilegious thief, dying
 hopelessly, and overtaken by Divine wrath. I kicked over his cap,
 which was also full of plunder, but I declined taking anything from
 him. I felt fearful of incurring the wrath of Heaven for the like
 offence, so I left him, and passed on.

 "A little farther off lay an officer of the 50th Regiment. I knew him
 by sight, and recognised him as he lay. He was quite dead, and lying
 on his back. He had been plundered, and his clothes were torn open.
 Three bullet-holes were close together in the pit of his stomach.
 Beside him lay an empty pocket-book, and his epaulette had been
 pulled from his shoulder.

 "I had moved on but a few paces, when I recollected that perhaps the
 officer's shoes might serve me, my own being considerably the worse
 for wear, so I returned again, went back, pulled one of his shoes
 off, and knelt down on one knee to try it on. It was not much better
 than my own; however, I determined on the exchange, and proceeded to
 take off its fellow. As I did so I was startled by the sharp report
 of a firelock, and at the same moment a bullet whistled close by my
 head. Instantly starting up I turned and looked in the direction
 whence the shot had come. There was no person near me in this part
 of the field. The dead and the dying lay thickly all around, but
 nothing else could I see. I looked to the priming of my rifle, and
 again turned to the dead officer of the 50th. It was evident that
 some plundering scoundrel had taken a shot at me, and the fact of his
 doing so proclaimed him one of the enemy. To distinguish him amongst
 the bodies strewn about was impossible; perhaps he might himself be
 one of the wounded. Hardly had I effected the exchange, put on the
 dead officer's shoes, and resumed my rifle, when another shot took
 place, and a second ball whistled past me. This time I was ready, and
 turning quickly I saw my man; he was just about to squat down behind
 a small mound about twenty paces from me. I took a haphazard shot at
 him, and instantly knocked him over. I immediately ran up to him; he
 had fallen on his face, and I heaved him over on his back, bestrode
 his body, and drew my sword-bayonet. There was, however, no occasion
 for the precaution, as he was even then in the agonies of death.

 "It was a relief to me to find I had not been mistaken. He was a
 French light infantry man, and I therefore took it quite in the way
 of business--he had attempted my life, and lost his own. It was the
 fortune of war; so stooping down with my sword I cut the green
 string that sustained his calabash, and took a hearty pull to quench
 my thirst.

 "After I had shot the French light infantry man, and quenched my
 thirst from his calabash, finding he was quite dead, I proceeded to
 search him. Whilst I turned him about in the endeavour at finding
 the booty I felt pretty certain he had gathered from the slain, an
 officer of the 60th approached and accosted me.

 "'What, looking for money, my lad,' said he, 'eh?'

 "'I am, sir,' I answered; 'but I cannot discover where this fellow
 has hid his hoard.'

 "'You knocked him over, my man,' he said, 'in good style, and deserve
 something for the shot. Here,' he continued, stooping down, and
 feeling in the lining of the Frenchman's coat, 'this is the place
 where these rascals generally carry their coin. Rip up the lining of
 his coat, and then search in his stock. I know them better than you
 seem to do.'

 "Thanking the officer for his courtesy, I proceeded to cut open the
 lining of his jacket with my sword-bayonet, and was quickly rewarded
 for my labour by finding a yellow silk purse, wrapped up in an old
 black silk handkerchief. The purse contained several doubloons, three
 or four Napoleons, and a few dollars. Whilst I was counting the
 money, the value of which, except the dollars, I did not then know, I
 heard the bugle of the Rifles sound out the assembly, so I touched my
 cap to the officer and returned towards them.

 "The men were standing at ease, with the officers in front. As I
 approached them, Major Travers, who was in command of the four
 companies, called me to him.

 "'What have you got there, sir?' he said. 'Show me.'

 "I handed him the purse, expecting a reprimand for my pains. He,
 however, only laughed as he examined it, and turning showed it to his
 brother officers.

 "'You did that well, Harris,' he said, 'and I am sorry the purse
 is not better filled. Fall in.' In saying this, he handed me back
 the purse, and I joined my company. Soon afterwards, the roll being
 called, we were all ordered to lie down and gain a little rest after
 our day's work.

 "We lay as we had stood enranked upon the field, and in a few
 minutes, I dare say, one-half of that green line, over-wearied with
 their exertions, were asleep upon the ground they had so short a time
 before been fighting on. After we had lain for some little time I saw
 several men strolling about the fields, so I again quietly rose, with
 one or two others of the Rifles, and once more looked about me to see
 what I could pick up amongst the slain.

 "I had rambled some distance when I saw a French officer running
 towards me with all his might, pursued by at least half-a-dozen
 horsemen. The Frenchman was a tall, handsome-looking man, dressed
 in a blue uniform; he ran as swiftly as a wild Indian, turning and
 doubling like a hare. I held up my hand, and called to his pursuers
 not to hurt him. One of the horsemen, however, cut him down with a
 desperate blow when close beside me, and the next, wheeling round as
 he leaned from his saddle, passed his sword through the body.

 "I am sorry to say there was an English dragoon amongst these
 scoundrels; the rest, by their dress, I judged to be Portuguese
 cavalry. Whether the Frenchman thus slaughtered was a prisoner trying
 to escape, or what was the cause of this cold-blooded piece of
 cruelty, I know not, as the horsemen immediately galloped off without
 a word of explanation; and, feeling quite disgusted with the scene I
 had witnessed, I returned to my comrades, and again throwing myself
 down, was soon as fast asleep as any there."

The plundering exploits of the British private were not always confined
to his foes, living or dead. His own officers sometimes suffered. Says
Harris:--

 "I remember there was an officer, named, I think, Cardo, with the
 Rifles. He was a great beau; but although rather effeminate and
 ladylike in manners, so much so as to be remarked by the whole
 regiment at that time, yet he was found to be a most gallant officer
 when we were engaged with the enemy in the field. He was killed
 whilst fighting bravely in the Pyrenees; and amongst other jewellery
 he wore, he had a ring on his finger worth 150 guineas.

 "As he lay dead on the field, one of our Riflemen, named Orr,
 observed the sparkling gem, and immediately resolved to make prize of
 it. The ring, however, was so firmly fixed that Orr could not draw
 it from the finger, and, whipping out his knife, cut the finger off
 by the joint. After the battle Orr offered the ring for sale amongst
 the officers, and on inquiry the manner in which he had obtained
 it transpired. Orr was in consequence tried by court-martial, and
 sentenced to receive five hundred lashes, which sentence was carried
 into execution."




CHAPTER IV

A MEMORABLE RETREAT


Harris found a new commander-in-chief in Sir John Moore, and it was his
fortune to share in the sufferings and glory of the immortal retreat to
Corunna. Moore has never yet come to his true inheritance of fame as a
commander. The great figure of Wellington hides him almost from human
memory. Yet no British general, perhaps, ever conceived and executed a
more audacious stroke of soldiership than did Moore when he made his
famous stroke at Napoleon's communication, and spoiled the whole plans
of that master-spirit in war for the conquest of Southern Spain, and
brought him and his far-scattered columns hurrying up to the north-west
angle of the Peninsula.

Napoleon had assumed in person the command of the French armies in
Spain, and had 300,000 veterans under his eagles. He had shattered the
Spanish armies, was in possession of the Spanish capital, and was on
the point of marching to overwhelm the rich provinces as yet unravaged
by war to the south. Moore, with 24,000 men under his command, resolved
to strike boldly at Napoleon's communications, and so arrest the
southward march of all the French columns. When, in this manner, he
had paralysed the strategy of the French, Moore calculated he could
outmarch all the converging columns rushing to destroy him, and
escape. But he was accepting a terrific risk.

Moore's generalship, though it was followed by the tragedy of the
retreat to Corunna, and his own death in the battle at that place,
was perfectly successful. He wrecked Napoleon's strategy, and yet
escaped his counter-stroke. He secured a breathing-space for the
Spanish nation. He arrested and brought to a close Napoleon's personal
career in that country. He made possible Wellington's great Peninsular
campaigns. It is one of the examples of the irony of history that to
Moore, one of the greatest soldiers England has produced, success
brought no adequate fame, and it cost him his own life.

The second battalion of the Rifles, to which Harris belonged, joined
Moore's forces at Sahagun, and the great retreat began almost
immediately afterwards. On December 24 Moore turned his columns
westward for their march to his sea-base at Corunna. It was a march of
some 220 miles, through rugged mountainous country, with the French
hanging on his rear or pushing past his flank, while the bitter
tempests of the winter in Northern Spain blackened the skies above the
toiling troops, and scourged them almost incessantly with snow and
sleet and rain. At Astorga, Moore divided his army, and part, under
Craufurd, took the road to Vigo. The Rifles formed part of Craufurd's
force, and Harris's account thus sheds light on what is the least known
branch of the famous retreat.

The retreat lasted in all eighteen days, and some 4000 men fell
from the ranks, slain by mere hardship and exposure, during that
comparatively brief period; yet the retreating British did not lose a
flag or a gun in the retreat, and when they turned to bay at Corunna
they proved that neither their discipline nor their fighting power had
been in the least impaired by their sufferings. Harris's account is
really a bit of very fine descriptive writing, though its charm lies
in its simplicity and its unconscious realism. It must be remembered
that when the second battalion of the Rifles joined Moore's forces at
Sahagun they were worn out with long marches, and the fame of Roliça
and Vimiero lay upon them. Moore's forces had up to that time seen
no fighting, and still carried in face and uniform something of the
freshness of barrack life:--

 "At Sahagun we fell in with the army under command of Sir John Moore.
 I forget how many thousand men there were; but they were lying in
 and around the town when we arrived. The Rifles marched to an old
 convent, some two miles from Sahagun, where we were quartered,
 together with a part of the 15th Hussars, some of the Welsh
 Fusiliers, and straggling bodies of men belonging to various other
 regiments, all seeming on the _qui vive_, and expecting the French to
 fall in with them every hour. As our small and wayworn party came to
 a halt before the walls of the convent, the men from these different
 regiments came swarming out to greet us, loudly cheering us as they
 rushed up and seized our hands. The difference in appearance between
 ourselves and these new-comers was indeed (just then) very great.
 They looked fresh from good quarters and good rations. Their clothes
 and accoutrements were comparatively new and clean, and their cheeks
 ruddy with the glow of health and strength; whilst our men, on the
 contrary, were gaunt-looking, wayworn, and ragged; our faces burnt
 almost to the hue of an Asiatic's by the sun, our accoutrements rent
 and torn, and many without even shoes to their feet. However, we had
 some work in us yet, and perhaps were in better condition for it than
 our more fresh-looking comrades."

Harris describes how, just before the retreat began, he was summoned
at midnight to undertake, on somewhat alarming conditions, a very
practical bit of preparation for the march:--

 "In the middle of the night I remember, as well as if the sounds were
 at this moment in my ear, that my name was called out many times
 without my being completely awakened by the summons. From weariness
 and the weight of my knapsack and the quantity of implements I
 carried, I was at first quite unable to gain my legs; but when I did
 so I found that Quarter-master Surtees was the person who was thus
 disturbing my rest.

 "'Come, be quick there, Harris!' he said, as I picked my way by the
 light of the candle he held in his hand; 'look amongst the men, and
 rouse up all the shoemakers you have in the four companies. I have a
 job for them which must be done instantly.'

 "With some little trouble, and not a few curses from them as I
 stirred them up with the butt of my rifle, I succeeded in waking
 several of our snoring handicrafts; and the quarter-master bidding
 us instantly follow him, led the way to the very top of the convent
 stairs. Passing then into a ruinous-looking apartment, along which
 we walked upon the rafters, there being no flooring, he stopped when
 he arrived at its farther extremity. Here he proceeded to call our
 attention to a quantity of barrels of gunpowder lying beside a large
 heap of raw bullocks' hides. 'Now, Harris,' said he, 'keep your eyes
 open, and mind what you are about here. General Craufurd orders you
 instantly to set to work and sew up every one of these barrels in
 the hides lying before you. You are to sew the skins with the hair
 outwards, and be quick about it, for the general swears that if the
 job is not finished in half-an-hour he will hang you.'

 "The latter part of this order was anything but pleasant, and whether
 the general ever really gave it I never had an opportunity of
 ascertaining. Well knowing the stuff Craufurd was made of, I received
 the candle from the hands of Surtees, and bidding the men get
 needles and waxed thread from their knapsacks, as the quarter-master
 withdrew, I instantly prepared to set about the job.

 "I often think of that night's work as I sit strapping away in my
 little shop in Richmond Street, Soho. It was a curious scene to
 look at, and the task neither very easy nor safe. The Riflemen were
 wearied, unwilling, and out of temper; and it was as much as I could
 do to get them to assist me. Moreover, they were so reckless that
 they seemed rather to wish to blow the convent into the air than
 to get on with their work. One moment the candle was dropped and
 nearly extinguished; the next they lost their implements between
 the rafters of the floor, flaring the light about amongst the
 barrels, and wishing, as I remonstrated with them, that the powder
 might ignite and blow me, themselves, and the general to ----. Such
 were the Riflemen of the Peninsular War--daring, gallant, reckless
 fellows. I had a hard task to get the work safely finished; but at
 length between coaxing and bullying these dare-devils I managed
 to do so, and together we returned down the convent stairs; and,
 finding Surtees awaiting us in the passage below, he reported to
 General Craufurd that his order had been obeyed. After which we were
 permitted again to lie down and sleep till the bugle awoke us next
 morning."

The exact moment when the advance for the purpose of falling on
Soult was exchanged for retreat at speed before Napoleon's fiercely
converging columns to the sea-coast is dramatically marked in Harris's
"Recollections." From the first, it will be noted, the retreat was
pushed with the utmost sternness and energy, and at the cost of great
suffering to the men. Moore had daringly advanced till his scanty
columns were almost caught by the overwhelming forces of the French
closing upon him; and to escape destruction the British had to tax
their own strength and energy to the utmost:--

 "General Craufurd was in command of the brigade, and riding in front,
 when I observed a dragoon come spurring furiously along the road to
 meet us. He delivered a letter to the general, who turned round in
 his saddle the moment he had read a few lines, and thundered out
 the word 'to halt!' A few minutes more and we were all turned to
 the right-about, and retracing our steps of the night before--the
 contents of that epistle serving to furnish our men with many a
 surmise during the retrograde movement. When we again neared Sahagun,
 I remember seeing the wives and children of the men come rushing into
 the ranks, and embracing the husbands and fathers they expected never
 to see again.

 "The entire Rifle corps entered the same convent we had before been
 quartered in; but this time we remained enranked in its apartments
 and passages, no man being allowed to quit his arms or lie down. We
 stood leaning upon the muzzles of our rifles, and dozed as we stood.
 After remaining thus for about an hour, we were then ordered out of
 the convent, and the word was again given to march. There was a sort
 of thaw on this day, and the rain fell fast. As we passed the walls
 of the convent, I observed our general (Craufurd) as he sat upon
 his horse, looking at us on the march, and remarked the peculiar
 sternness of his features; he did not like to see us going rearwards
 at all, and many of us judged there must be something wrong, by his
 severe look and scowling eye.

 "'Keep your ranks there, men!' he said, spurring his horse towards
 some Riflemen who were avoiding a small rivulet. 'Keep your ranks and
 move on--no straggling from the main body.'

 "We pushed on all that day without halting; and I recollect the
 first thing that struck us as somewhat odd was our passing one of
 the commissariat waggons, overturned and stuck fast in the mud, and
 which was abandoned without an effort to save any of its contents.
 A sergeant of the 92nd Highlanders, just about this time, fell
 dead with fatigue, and no one stopped as we passed to offer him
 any assistance. Night came down upon us, without our having tasted
 food or halted--I speak for myself and those around me--and all
 night long we continued this dreadful march. Men began to look into
 each other's faces, and ask the question, 'Are we ever to be halted
 again?' and many of the weaker sort were now seen to stagger, make a
 few desperate efforts, and then fall, perhaps to rise no more. Most
 of us had devoured all we carried in our haversacks, and endeavoured
 to catch up anything we could snatch from hut or cottage in our
 route. Many, even at this period, would have straggled from the ranks
 and perished had not Craufurd held them together with a firm rein.
 One such bold and stern commander in the East, during a memorable
 disaster, and that devoted army had reached its refuge unbroken!
 Thus we staggered on night and day for about four days, before we
 discovered the reason of this continued forced march. The discovery
 was made to our company by a good-tempered, jolly fellow, named
 Patrick McLauchlan. He inquired of an officer marching directly in
 his front, the destination intended.

 "'By J--s! Musther Hills,' I heard him say, 'where the d--l is this
 you're taking us to?'

 "'To England, McLauchlan,' returned the officer, with a melancholy
 smile upon his face as he gave the answer--'if we can get there.'"

The Rifles formed part of the rearguard, and to the hardships and
sufferings common to the whole retreating force was added, in their
case, the strain of constant engagement with the enemy. As a matter of
fact, this served as a tonic to the men. It preserved their discipline.
It gave them what they felt to be a delightful distraction from the
monotony of splashing wet, hungry and faint, along muddy roads.
They forgot the blinding rain, the eddying snowflakes, the pinch of
hunger, as they turned a score of times in the day at bay and drove
back with the roll of their volleys the pursuing French cavalry. Here
are some pictures of how a British rearguard bears itself in adverse
circumstances:--

 "The information McLauchlan obtained from Lieutenant Hill quickly
 spread amongst us, and we now began to see more clearly the horrors
 of our situation, and the men to murmur at not being permitted to
 turn and stand at bay, cursing the French, and swearing they would
 rather die ten thousand deaths, with their rifles in their hands in
 opposition, than endure the present toil. We were in the rear at this
 time, and following that part of the army which made for Vigo, whilst
 the other portion of the British, being on the main road to Corunna,
 were at this moment closely pursued and harassed by the enemy, as I
 should judge from the continued thunder of their cannon and rattle
 of their musketry. Craufurd seemed to sniff the sound of battle
 from afar with peculiar feelings. He halted us for a few minutes
 occasionally, when the distant clamour became more distinct, and his
 face turned towards the sound, and seemed to light up and become
 less stern. It was then, indeed, that every poor fellow clutched his
 weapon more firmly and wished for a sight of the enemy.

 "Before long they had their wish: the enemy's cavalry were on our
 skirts that night; and as we rushed out of a small village, the name
 of which I cannot now recollect, we turned to bay. Behind broken-down
 carts and tumbrils, huge trunks of trees, and everything we could
 scrape together, the Rifles lay and blazed away at the advancing
 cavalry.

 "We passed the night thus engaged, holding our own as well as we
 could. Towards morning we moved down towards a small bridge, still
 followed by the enemy, whom, however, we had sharply galled, and
 obliged to be more wary in their efforts. The rain was pouring down
 in torrents on this morning, I recollect, and we remained many hours
 with our arms ported, standing in this manner, and staring the French
 cavalry in the face, the water actually running out of the muzzles of
 our rifles. I do not recollect seeing a single regiment of infantry
 amongst the French force on this day; it seemed to me a tremendous
 body of cavalry--some said nine or ten thousand strong--commanded, as
 I heard, by General Lefebvre.

 "Whilst we stood thus, face to face, I remember the horsemen of the
 enemy sat watching us very intently, as if waiting for a favourable
 moment to dash upon us like beasts of prey; and every now and then
 their trumpets would ring out a lively strain of music as if to
 encourage them. As the night drew on, our cavalry moved a little
 to the front, together with several field-pieces, and succeeded in
 crossing the bridge; after which we also advanced and threw ourselves
 into some hilly ground on either side the road; whilst the 43rd and
 52nd lay behind some carts, trunks of trees, and other materials with
 which they had formed a barrier.

 "General Craufurd was standing behind this barricade, when he
 ordered the Rifles to push still farther in front, and conceal
 themselves amongst the hills on either side. A man named Higgins was
 my front-rank man at this moment. 'Harris,' he said, 'let you and I
 gain the very top of the mountain, and look out what those French
 thieves are at on the other side.'

 "My feet were sore and bleeding, and the sinews of my legs ached as
 if they would burst, but I resolved to accompany him. In our wearied
 state the task was not easy, but, by the aid of Higgins, a tall and
 powerful fellow, I managed to reach the top of the mountain, where we
 placed ourselves in a sort of gully or ditch, and looked over to the
 enemy's side, concealing ourselves by lying flat in the ditch as we
 did so. Thus, in favourable situations, like cats watching for their
 prey, were the rest of the Rifles lying perdu upon the hills that
 night. The mountain we found was neither so steep nor so precipitous
 on the enemy's side. The ascent, on the contrary, was so easy that
 one or two of the videttes of the French cavalry were prowling about
 very near where we lay. As we had received orders not to make more
 noise than we could help, not even to speak to each other, except in
 whispers, although one of these horsemen approached close to where I
 lay, I forbore to fire upon him.

 "At length he stopped so near me that I saw it was almost impossible
 he could avoid discovering that the Rifles were in such close
 proximity to his person. He gazed cautiously along the ridge, took
 off his helmet, and wiped his face, as he appeared to meditate
 upon the propriety of crossing the ditch in which we lay, when
 suddenly our eyes met, and in an instant he plucked a pistol from
 his holster, fired it in my face, and, wheeling his horse, plunged
 down the hillside. For the moment I thought I was hit, as the ball
 grazed my neck, and stuck fast in my knapsack, where I found it,
 when, many days afterwards, I unpacked my kit on shipboard. About
 a quarter of an hour after this, as we still lay in the gully, I
 heard some person clambering up behind us, and, upon turning quickly
 round, I found it was General Craufurd. The general was wrapped in
 his greatcoat, and, like ourselves, had been for many hours drenched
 to the skin, for the rain was coming down furiously. He carried in
 his hand a canteen full of rum and a small cup, with which he was
 occasionally endeavouring to refresh some of the men. He offered me a
 drink as he passed, and then proceeded onwards along the ridge. After
 he had emptied his canteen, he came past us again, and himself gave
 us instructions as to our future proceedings.

 "'When all is ready, Riflemen,' said he, 'you will immediately get
 the word, and pass over the bridge. Be careful, and mind what you are
 about.'

 "Accordingly, a short time after he had left us, we were ordered to
 descend the mountain side in single file, and having gained the road,
 were quickly upon the bridge. Meanwhile the Staff Corps had been hard
 at work mining the very centre of the structure, which was filled
 with gunpowder, a narrow plank being all the aid we had by which to
 pass over. For my own part, I was now so utterly helpless that I
 felt as if all was nearly up with me, and that, if I could steady
 myself so as to reach the farther end of the plank, it would be all I
 should be able to accomplish. However, we managed all of us to reach
 the other side in safety, when, almost immediately afterwards, the
 bridge blew up with a tremendous report, and a house at its extremity
 burst into flames. What with the concussion of the explosion and the
 tremulous state of my limbs, I was thrown to the ground, and lay
 flat upon my face for some time, almost in a state of insensibility.
 After a while I somewhat recovered; but it was not without extreme
 difficulty, and many times falling again, that I succeeded in
 regaining the column.

 "Soon after I had done so, we reached Benevento, and immediately took
 refuge in a convent. Already three parts of it were filled with
 other troops, among which were mingled the 10th Hussars, the German
 Legion, and the 15th Dragoons; the horses of these regiments standing
 as close as they could stand, with the men dismounted between each
 horse, the animals' heads to the walls of the building, and all in
 readiness to turn out on the instant. Liquor was handed to us by the
 Dragoons, but having had nothing for some time to eat, many of our
 men became sick instead of receiving any benefit from it.

 "Before we had been in the convent as long a time as I have been
 describing our arrival, every man of us was down on the floor, and
 well nigh asleep; and before we had slept half-an-hour, we were again
 aroused from our slumbers by the clatter of the horses, the clash of
 the men's sabres, and their shouts for us to clear the way.

 "'The enemy! The enemy!' I heard shouted out.

 "'Clear the way, Rifles! Up, boys, and clear the way!'

 "In short, the Dragoons hardly gave us time to rise before they were
 leading their horses amongst us, and getting out of the convent as
 fast as they could scamper, whilst we ourselves were not long in
 following their example. As we did so, we discovered that the French
 cavalry, having found the bridge blown up, had dashed into the stream
 and succeeded in crossing. Our cavalry, however, quickly formed, and
 charged them in gallant style.

 "The shock of that encounter was tremendous to look upon, and we
 stood for some time enranked watching the combatants. The horsemen
 had it all to themselves; our Dragoons fought like tigers, and,
 although greatly over-matched, drove the enemy back like a torrent,
 and forced them again into the river. A private of the 10th
 Hussars--his name, I think, was Franklin--dashed into the stream
 after their general (Lefebvre), assailed him, sword in hand, in the
 water, captured, and brought him a prisoner on shore again. If I
 remember rightly, Franklin, or whatever else was his name, was made
 a sergeant on the spot. The French general was delivered into our
 custody on that occasion, and we cheered the men heartily as we
 received him.

 "After the enemy had received this check from our cavalry, and which
 considerably damped their ardour, making them a trifle more shy of
 us for a while, we pushed onwards on our painful march. I remember
 marching close beside the French general during some part of this
 day, and observing his chapfallen and dejected look as he rode along
 in the midst of the green jackets."

In spite of all his own sufferings, Harris was still able to note,
with an unconsciously artistic eye, the scenes--wild, tragic, and
picturesque--which the retreat afforded:--

 "Being constantly in rear of the main body, the scenes of distress
 and misery I witnessed were dreadful to contemplate, particularly
 amongst the women and children, who were lagging and falling behind,
 their husbands and fathers being in the main body in our front.
 We came to the edge of a deep ravine, the descent so steep and
 precipitous, that it was impossible to keep our feet in getting
 down, and we were sometimes obliged to sit and slide along on our
 backs; whilst before us rose a ridge of mountains quite as steep and
 difficult of ascent. There was, however, no pause in our exertion,
 but, slinging our rifles round our necks, down the hill we went;
 whilst mules with the baggage on their backs, wearied and urged
 beyond their strength, were seen rolling from top to bottom, many of
 them breaking their necks with the fall, and the baggage crushed,
 smashed, and abandoned.

 "I remember as I descended this hill remarking the extraordinary
 sight afforded by the thousands of our redcoats, who were creeping
 like snails, and toiling up the ascent before us, their muskets slung
 round their necks, and clambering with both hands as they hauled
 themselves up. As soon as we ourselves had gained the ascent we were
 halted for a few minutes, in order to give us breath for another
 effort, and then onwards we moved again.

 "It is impossible for me to keep any account of time in this
 description, as I never exactly knew how many days and nights we
 marched; but I well know we kept on for many successive days and
 nights without rest, or much in the way of food. The long day found
 us still pushing on, and the night caused us no halt.

 "We pushed on still cursing the enemy for not again showing
 themselves, that we might revenge some of our present miseries upon
 their heads.

 "'Why don't they come on like men,' they cried, 'whilst we've
 strength left in us to fight them?'

 "We were now upon the mountains; the night was bitter cold, and the
 snow falling fast. As day broke, I remember hearing Lieutenant Hill
 say to another officer (who, by the way, afterwards sank down and
 died), 'This is New Year's Day; and I think if we live to see another
 we shall not easily forget it.'

 "The mountains were now becoming more wild-looking and steep as we
 proceeded, whilst those few huts we occasionally passed seemed so
 utterly forlorn and wretched-looking, it appeared quite a wonder
 how human beings could live in so desolate a home. After the snow
 commenced the hills became so slippery (being in many parts covered
 with ice), that several of our men frequently slipped and fell, and
 being unable to rise, gave themselves up to despair and died. There
 was now no endeavour to assist one another after a fall; it was every
 one for himself, and God for us all!

 "The enemy, I should think, were at this time frequently close upon
 our trail; and I thought at times I heard their trumpets come down
 the wind as we marched. Towards the dusk of the evening of this day
 I remember passing a man and woman lying clasped in each other's
 arms, and dying in the snow. I knew them both, but it was impossible
 to help them. They belonged to the Rifles and were man and wife. The
 man's name was Joseph Sitdown. During this retreat, as he had not
 been in good health previously, himself and wife had been allowed to
 get on in the best way they could in the front. They had, however,
 now given in, and the last we ever saw of poor Sitdown and his wife
 was on that night lying perishing in each other's arms in the snow.

 "Many trivial things which happened during the retreat to Corunna,
 and which on any other occasion might have entirely passed from my
 memory, have been, as it were, branded into my remembrance, and I
 recollect the most trifling incidents which occurred from day to
 day during that march. I remember, amongst other matters, that we
 were joined, if I may so term it, by a young recruit, when such an
 addition was anything but wished for during the disasters of the
 hour. One of the men's wives (who was struggling forward in the
 ranks with us, presenting a ghastly picture of illness, misery, and
 fatigue), being very large in the family-way, towards evening stepped
 from amongst the crowd and laid herself down amidst the snow, a
 little out of the main road. Her husband remained with her; and I
 heard one or two hasty observations amongst our men that they had
 taken possession of their last resting-place. The enemy were, indeed,
 not far behind at this time, the night was coming down, and their
 chance seemed in truth but a bad one.

 "To remain behind the column of march in such weather was to perish,
 and we accordingly soon forgot all about them. To my surprise,
 however, I some little time afterwards (being myself then in the rear
 of our party) again saw the woman. She was hurrying with her husband
 after us, and in her arms she carried the babe she had just given
 birth to. Her husband and herself between them managed to carry that
 infant to the end of the retreat, where we embarked. God tempers the
 wind, it is said, to the shorn lamb, and many years afterwards I saw
 that boy a strong and healthy lad. The woman's name was M'Guire,
 a sturdy and hardy Irishwoman; and lucky was it for herself and
 babe that she was so, as that night of cold and sleet was in itself
 sufficient to try the constitution of most females. I lost sight of
 her, I recollect, on this night when the darkness came upon us, but
 with the dawn, to my surprise she was still amongst us."




CHAPTER V

STERN SCENES


The sufferings of the retreat steadily increased. The weather grew more
bitter, the country more difficult, the supply of food scantier. Under
the strain of incessant marching, the strength of the men gave way. All
were ragged and hungry; many were bare-footed; many were sick, racked
with coughs, shaken with ague, or burning with fever. Their discipline
seemed to go to pieces. Nothing survived but a spirit of dogged, sullen
courage that seized, with a thrill of something like fierce delight,
every opportunity of turning on their relentless pursuers:--

 "The shoes and boots of our party were now mostly either destroyed
 or useless to us, from foul roads and long miles, and many of the
 men were entirely bare-footed, with knapsacks and accoutrements
 altogether in a dilapidated state. The officers were also, for the
 most part, in as miserable a plight. They were pallid, wayworn,
 their feet bleeding, and their faces overgrown with beards of many
 days' growth. What a contrast did our corps display, even at this
 period of the retreat, to my remembrance of them on the morning their
 dashing appearance captivated my fancy in Ireland! Many of the poor
 fellows, now near sinking with fatigue, reeled as if in a state of
 drunkenness, and altogether I thought we looked the ghosts of our
 former selves; still we held on resolutely. Our officers behaved
 nobly, and Craufurd was not to be daunted by long miles, fatigue,
 or foul weather. Many a man in that retreat caught courage from his
 stern eye and gallant bearing. Indeed, I do not think the world ever
 saw a more perfect soldier than General Craufurd.

 "As the day began to dawn, we passed through another village--a long,
 straggling place. The houses were all closed at this early hour, and
 the inhabitants mostly buried in sleep, and, I dare say, unconscious
 of the armed thousands who were pouring through their silent streets.
 When about a couple of miles from this village, Craufurd again halted
 us for about a quarter of an hour. It appeared to me that, with
 returning daylight, he wished to have a good look at us this morning,
 for he mingled amongst the men as we stood leaning upon our rifles,
 gazing earnestly in our faces as he passed, in order to judge of our
 plight by our countenances. He himself appeared anxious, but full
 of fire and spirit, occasionally giving directions to the different
 officers, and then speaking words of encouragement to the men. It is
 my pride now to remember that General Craufurd seldom omitted a word
 in passing to myself. On this occasion, he stopped in the midst and
 addressed a few words to me, and, glancing down at my feet, observed--

 "'What! no shoes, Harris, I see, eh?'

 "'None, sir,' I replied; 'they have been gone many days back.' He
 smiled, and passing on spoke to another man, and so on through the
 whole body.

 "Craufurd was, I remember, terribly severe during this retreat, if he
 caught anything like pilfering amongst the men. As we stood, however,
 during this short halt, a very tempting turnip field was close on the
 side of us, and several of the men were so ravenous, that although
 he was in our very ranks, they stepped into the field and helped
 themselves to the turnips, devouring them like famishing wolves. He
 either did not or would not observe the delinquency this time, and
 soon afterwards gave the word and we moved on once more.

 "About this period I remember another sight, which I shall not to
 my dying day forget; and it causes me a sore heart even now as I
 remember it. Soon after our halt beside the turnip field the screams
 of a child near me caught my ear, and drew my attention to one
 of our women, who was endeavouring to drag along a little boy of
 about seven or eight years of age. The poor child was apparently
 completely exhausted, and his legs falling under him. The mother had
 occasionally, up to this time, been assisted by some of the men,
 taking it in turn to help the little fellow on; but now all further
 appeal was in vain. No man had more strength than was necessary for
 the support of his own carcass, and the mother could no longer raise
 the child in her arms, as her reeling pace too plainly showed. Still,
 however, she continued to drag the child along with her. It was a
 pitiable sight, and wonderful to behold the efforts the poor woman
 made to keep the boy amongst us. At last the little fellow had not
 even strength to cry, but, with mouth wide open, stumbled onwards,
 until both sank down to rise no more. The poor woman herself had, for
 some time, looked a moving corpse, and when the shades of evening
 came down, they were far behind amongst the dead or dying in the
 road."

Hunger and desperation sometimes tempted even the veterans of the
Rifles to leave the ranks in the hope of discovering, in some fold of
the lonely Asturian hills, a shepherd's hut, or a little farmhouse,
where food might be got at and an hour's shelter enjoyed. Harris
describes one such adventure undertaken by himself:--

 "Towards evening we came to a part of the country of a yet wilder and
 more desolate appearance even than that we had already traversed; a
 dreary wilderness it appeared at this inclement season, and our men,
 spite of the vigilance of the general, seemed many of them resolved
 to stray into the open country rather than traverse the road before
 them. The coming night favoured their designs, and many were before
 morning lost to us through their own wilfulness. Amongst others I
 found myself completely bewildered and lost upon the heath, and
 should doubtless have perished had I not fallen in with another of
 our corps in the same situation. As soon as we recognised each other
 I found my companion in adversity was a strapping resolute fellow
 named James Brooks, a north of Ireland man. He was afterwards killed
 at Toulouse. He was delighted at having met with me, and we resolved
 not to desert each other during the night. Brooks, as I have said,
 was a strong, active, and resolute fellow, as indeed I had on more
 occasions than one witnessed in Portugal. At the present time his
 strength was useful to both of us.

 "'Catch hold of my jacket, Harris,' said he; 'the ground here is
 soft, and we must help each other to-night or we shall be lost in the
 bogs.'

 "Before long that which Brooks feared happened, and he found himself
 stuck so fast in the morass that although I used my best efforts to
 draw him out I only shared in the same disaster, so that, leaving
 him, I turned and endeavoured to save my own life if possible,
 calling to him to follow before he sank over head and ears. This was
 an unlucky chance in our wearied state, as the more we floundered
 in the dark, not knowing which way to gain a firmer foundation, the
 faster we fixed ourselves. Poor Brooks was so disheartened that he
 actually blubbered like a child. At length, during a pause in our
 exertions, I thought I heard something like the bark of a dog come
 down the wind. I bade Brooks listen, and we both distinctly heard
 it--the sound gave us new hope just as we were about to abandon
 ourselves to our fate. I advised Brooks to lay himself as flat as
 he could and drag himself out of the slough, as I had found some
 hard tufts of grass in the direction I tried; and so, by degrees,
 we gained a firmer footing, and eventually succeeded in extricating
 ourselves, though in such an exhausted state that for some time we
 lay helplessly upon the ground unable to proceed.

 "At length, with great caution, we ventured to move forwards in the
 direction of the sounds we had just heard. We found, however, that
 our situation was still very perilous, for in the darkness we hardly
 dared to move a step in any direction without probing the ground with
 our rifles, lest we should again sink and be eventually smothered
 in the morasses we had strayed amongst. On a sudden, however, as we
 carefully felt our way, we heard voices shouting in the distance, and
 calling out 'Men lost! men lost!' which we immediately concluded were
 the cries of some of our own people who were situated like ourselves.

 "After a while I thought I saw, far away, something like a dancing
 light, which seemed to flicker about, vanish, and reappear, similar
 to a Jack-o'-lantern. I pointed it out to Brooks, and we agreed
 to alter our course and move towards it. As we did so the light
 seemed to approach us and grow larger. Presently another and another
 appeared, like small twinkling stars, till they looked something like
 the lamps upon one of our London bridges as seen from afar. The sight
 revived our spirits, more especially as we could now distinctly hear
 the shouts of people who appeared in search of the stragglers, and as
 they approached us we perceived that such was indeed the case. The
 lights, we now discovered, were furnished by bundles of straw and
 dried twigs tied on the ends of long poles and dipped in tar. They
 were borne in the hands of several Spanish peasants, from a village
 near at hand, whom Craufurd had thus sent to our rescue.

 "To return to my own adventures on this night. When Brooks and
 myself reached the village I have mentioned we found it filled with
 soldiers, standing and lying huddled together like cattle in a fair.
 A most extraordinary sight it appeared as the torches of the peasants
 flashed upon the wayworn and gaunt figures of our army. The rain was
 coming down, too, on this night, I remember; and soon after I reached
 our corps I fell helplessly to the ground in a miserable plight.
 Brooks was himself greatly exhausted, but he behaved nobly, and
 remained beside me, trying to persuade some of our men to assist him
 in lifting me up, and gaining shelter in one of the houses at hand.
 'May I be ----!' I heard him say, 'if I leave Harris to be butchered
 in the streets by the cowardly Spaniards the moment our division
 leaves the town.'

 "At length Brooks succeeded in getting a man to help him, and
 together they supported me into the passage of a house, where I lay
 upon the floor for some time. After a while, by the help of some wine
 they procured, I rallied and sat up, till eventually I got once more
 upon my legs, and, arm in arm, we proceeded again into the streets
 and joined our corps. Poor Brooks certainly saved my life that night.
 He was one of the many good fellows whom I have seen out, and I
 often think of him with feelings of gratitude as I sit at my work in
 Richmond Street, Soho."

There were certainly not many men, even in Craufurd's rearguard,
stronger in body or hardier in temper than Harris, yet at last even his
iron strength and dauntless energy failed him. He began to lag behind,
making occasional and desperate rallies to keep up with his battalion.
He says:--

 "I remember Sir Dudley Hill passing me on a mule this day. He wore a
 Spanish straw hat and had his cloak on. He looked back when he had
 passed, and addressed me: 'Harris,' said he, 'I see you cannot keep
 up.' He appeared sorry for me, for he knew me well. 'You must do your
 best,' he said, 'my man, and keep with us, or you will fall into the
 hands of the enemy.' As the day wore on I grew weaker and weaker, and
 at last, in spite of all my efforts, I saw the main body leave me
 hopelessly in the lurch. Brooks himself was getting weaker too; he
 saw it was of little use to urge me on, and at length, assenting to
 my repeated request to be left behind, he hurried on as well as he
 was able without a word of farewell. I now soon sank down in the road
 and lay beside another man who had also fallen and was apparently
 dead, and whom I recognised as one of our sergeants.

 "Whilst we lay exhausted in the road the rearguard, which was now
 endeavouring to drive on the stragglers, approached, and a sergeant
 of the Rifles came up and stopped to look at us. He addressed himself
 to me, and ordered me to rise; but I told him it was useless for him
 to trouble himself about me as I was unable to move a step farther.
 Whilst he was urging me to endeavour to rise up, the officer in
 command of the rearguard also stepped up. The name of this officer
 was Lieutenant Cox; he was a brave and good man, and observing that
 the sergeant was rough in his language and manner towards me, he
 silenced him and bade the guard proceed and leave me. 'Let him die
 quietly, Hicks,' he said to the sergeant. 'I know him well; he's not
 the man to lie here if he could get on. I am sorry, Harris,' he said,
 'to see you reduced to this, for I fear there is no help to be had
 now.' He then moved on after his men, and left me to my fate.

 "After lying still for a while, I felt somewhat restored and sat up
 to look about me. The sight was by no means cheering. On the road
 behind me I saw men, women, mules, and horses lying at intervals,
 both dead and dying; whilst far away in front I could just discern
 the enfeebled army crawling out of sight, the women[4] huddled
 together in its rear, trying their best to get forward amongst those
 of the sick soldiery, who were now unable to keep up with the main
 body. After a while I found that my companion, the sergeant, who lay
 beside me, had also recovered a little, and I tried to cheer him up.
 I told him that opposite to where we were lying there was a lane,
 down which we might possibly find some place of shelter if we could
 muster strength to explore it. The sergeant consented to make the
 effort, but after two or three attempts to rise, gave it up. I myself
 was more fortunate; with the aid of my rifle I got upon my legs,
 and seeing death in my companion's face, I resolved to try and save
 myself, since it was quite evident to me that I could render him no
 assistance.

 "After hobbling some distance down the lane, to my great joy I espied
 a small hut or cabin with a little garden in its front; I therefore
 opened the small door of the hovel, and was about to enter when I
 considered that most likely I should be immediately knocked on the
 head by the inmates if I did so. The rain, I remember, was coming
 down in torrents at this time, and, reflecting that to remain outside
 was but to die, I resolved at all events to try my luck within. I
 had not much strength left, but I resolved to sell myself as dearly
 as I could. I therefore brought up my rifle and stepped across the
 threshold. As soon as I had done so I observed an old woman seated
 beside a small fire upon the hearth. She turned her head as I
 entered, and immediately upon seeing a strange soldier, she arose and
 filled the hovel with her screams. As I drew back within the doorway
 an elderly man, followed by two, who were apparently his sons, rushed
 from a room in the interior. They immediately approached me; but
 I brought up my rifle again and cocked it, bidding them keep their
 distance.

 "After I had thus brought them to a parley I got together what little
 Spanish I was master of, and begged for shelter for the night and a
 morsel of food, at the same time lifting my feet and displaying them
 a mass of bleeding sores. It was not, however, till they had held a
 tolerably long conversation among themselves that they consented to
 afford me shelter, and then only upon the condition that I left by
 daylight on the following morning. I accepted the conditions with
 joy. Had they refused me I should indeed not have been here to tell
 the tale. Knowing the treachery of the Spanish character, I however
 refused to relinquish possession of my rifle, and my right hand was
 ready in an instant to unsheath my bayonet, as they sat and stared at
 me whilst I devoured the food they offered.

 "All they gave me was some coarse black bread, and a pitcher of sour
 wine. It was, however, acceptable to a half-famished man; and I felt
 greatly revived by it. Whilst I supped, the old hag, who sat close
 beside the hearth, stirred up the embers, that they might have a
 better view of their guest, and the party meanwhile overwhelmed me
 with questions, which I could neither comprehend nor had strength to
 answer. I soon made signs to them that I was unable to maintain the
 conversation, and begged of them, as well as I could, to show me some
 place where I might lay my wearied limbs till dawn.

 "Notwithstanding the weariness which pervaded my whole body, I was
 unable for some time to sleep except by fitful snatches, such was
 the fear I entertained of having my throat cut by the savage-looking
 wretches still seated before the fire. Besides which, the place they
 had permitted me to crawl into was more like an oven than anything
 else, and being merely a sort of berth scooped out of the wall, was
 so filled with fleas and other vermin, that I was stung and tormented
 most miserably all night long.

 "Bad as they had been, however, I felt somewhat restored by my
 lodging and supper, and with the dawn I crawled out of my lair, left
 the hut; retraced my steps along the lane, and once more emerged upon
 the high-road, where I found my companion, the sergeant, dead, and
 lying where I had left him the night before.

 "I now made the best of my way along the road in the direction
 in which I had last seen our army retreating the night before. A
 solitary individual, I seemed left behind amongst those who had
 perished. It was still raining, I remember, on this morning, and the
 very dead looked comfortless in their last sleep as I passed them
 occasionally lying on the line of march. It had pleased Heaven to
 give me an iron constitution, or I must have failed, I think, on this
 day, for the solitary journey and the miserable spectacles I beheld
 rather damped my spirits.

 "After progressing some miles, I came up with a cluster of poor
 devils who were still alive, but apparently, both men and women,
 unable to proceed. They were sitting huddled together in the road,
 their heads drooping forward, and apparently patiently awaiting their
 end.

 "Soon after passing these unfortunates, I overtook a party who
 were being urged forward under charge of an officer of the 42nd
 Highlanders. He was pushing them along pretty much as a drover would
 keep together a tired flock of sheep. They presented a curious
 example of a retreating force. Many of them had thrown away their
 weapons, and were linked together arm-in-arm, in order to support
 each other, like a party of drunkards. They were, I saw, composed of
 various regiments; many were bareheaded and without shoes, and some
 with their heads tied up in old rags and fragments of handkerchiefs.
 I marched in company with this party for some time, but as I felt
 after my night's lodging and refreshment in better condition, I
 ventured to push forward, in the hope of rejoining the main body, and
 which I once more came up with in the street of a village.

 "On falling in with the Rifles, I again found Brooks, who was
 surprised at seeing me still alive, and we both entered a house, and
 begged for something to drink. I remember that I had a shirt upon
 my back at this time, which I had purchased of a drummer of the 9th
 Regiment before the commencement of the retreat. It was the only good
 one I had. I stripped, with the assistance of Brooks, and took it
 off, and exchanged it with a Spanish woman for a loaf of bread, which
 Brooks, myself, and two other men, shared amongst us.

 "I remember to have again remarked Craufurd at this period of the
 retreat. He was in no whit altered in his desire to keep the force
 together, I thought; but, still active and vigilant as ever, he
 seemed to keep his eye upon those who were now most likely to hold
 out. I myself marched during many hours close beside him this day.
 He looked stern and pale, but the very picture of a warrior. I shall
 never forget Craufurd if I live to a hundred years, I think. He was
 in everything a soldier.

 "Slowly and dejectedly crawled our army along. Their spirit of
 endurance was now considerably worn out, and, judging from my own
 sensations, I felt confident that, if the sea was much farther from
 us, we must be content to come to a halt at last without gaining
 it. I felt something like the approach of death as I proceeded--a
 sort of horror, mixed up with my sense of illness; a reeling I have
 never experienced before or since. Still I held on; but with all my
 efforts, the main body again left me behind. Had the enemy's cavalry
 come up at this time I think they would have had little else to do
 but ride us down without striking a blow."

At last the great retreat, with its horrors and sufferings, drew to a
close. The sea was reached, and not even Xenophon's Ten Thousand, as
they caught from some hill summit the purple gleam of the far-off sea,
knew a keener delight than did Craufurd's bare-footed, famine-wasted
veterans. Says Harris:--

 "It is astonishing how man clings to life. I am certain that had
 I lain down at this period, I should have found my last billet on
 the spot I sank upon. Suddenly I heard a shout in front, which was
 prolonged in a sort of hubbub. Even the stragglers whom I saw dotting
 the road in front of me seemed to have caught at something like
 hope; and as the poor fellows now reached the top of a hill we were
 ascending, I heard an occasional exclamation of joy--the first note
 of the sort I had heard for many days. When I reached the top of the
 hill the thing spoke for itself. There, far away in our front, the
 English shipping lay in sight.

 "Its view had indeed acted like a restorative to our force, and the
 men, at the prospect of a termination to the march, had plucked up
 spirit for a last effort. Fellows who, like myself, seemed to have
 hardly strength in their legs to creep up the ascent, seemed now to
 have picked up a fresh pair to get down with. Such is hope to us poor
 mortals!

 "As we proceeded down the hill we now met with the first symptoms
 of the good feeling from the inhabitants it was our fortune to
 experience during our retreat. A number of old women stood on either
 side of the road, and occasionally handed us fragments of bread as
 we passed them. It was on this day, and whilst I looked anxiously
 upon the English shipping in the distance, that I first began to find
 my eyesight failing, and it appeared to me that I was fast growing
 blind. The thought was alarming, and I made desperate efforts to get
 on. Bell, however, won the race this time. He was a very athletic and
 strong-built fellow, and left me far behind, so that I believe at
 that time I was the very last of the retreating force that reached
 the beach, though, doubtless, many stragglers came dropping up after
 the ships had sailed, and were left behind.

 "As it was, when I did manage to gain the seashore, it was only by
 the aid of my rifle that I could stand, and my eyes were now so dim
 and heavy that with difficulty I made out a boat, which seemed the
 last that had put off.

 "Fearful of being left half blind in the lurch, I took off my cap,
 and placed it on the muzzle of my rifle as a signal, for I was
 totally unable to call out. Luckily, Lieutenant Cox, who was aboard
 the boat, saw me and ordered the men to return, and making one more
 effort I walked into the water, and a sailor, stretching his body
 over the gunwale, seized me as if I had been an infant and hauled
 me on board. His words were characteristic of the English sailor, I
 thought.

 "'Hullo, there, you lazy lubber!' he said, as he grasped hold of me,
 'who the ---- do you think is to stay hum-bugging all day for such a
 fellow as you?'"

Here is Harris's description of how, after a stormy passage, the
transports reached the English coast, and the wrecks of Moore's gallant
battalions were allowed to land:--

 "After remaining off Spithead for about five or six days, one fine
 morning we received orders to disembark, and our poor bare feet once
 more touched English ground. The inhabitants flocked down to the
 beach to see us as we did so, and they must have been a good deal
 surprised at the spectacle we presented. Our beards were long and
 ragged; almost all were without shoes and stockings; many had their
 clothes and accoutrements in fragments, with their heads swathed in
 old rags, and our weapons were covered with rust; whilst not a few
 had now from toil and fatigue become quite blind.

 "Let not the reader, however, think that even now we were to be
 despised as soldiers. Long marches, inclement weather, and want of
 food had done their work upon us; but we were perhaps better than
 we appeared, as the sequel showed. Under the gallant Craufurd we had
 made some tremendous marches, and even galled our enemies severely,
 making good our retreat by the way of Vigo. But our comrades in
 adversity, and who had retired by the other road to Corunna, under
 General Moore, turned to bay there, and showed the enemy that the
 English soldier is not to be beaten even under the most adverse
 circumstances.

 "The field of death and slaughter, the march, the bivouac, and the
 retreat, are no bad places in which to judge of men. I have had
 some opportunities of judging them in all these situations, and I
 should say that the British are amongst the most splendid soldiers in
 the world. Give them fair-play, and they are unconquerable. For my
 own part, I can only say that I enjoyed life more whilst on active
 service than I have ever done since; and as I sit at my work in my
 shop in Richmond Street, Soho, I look back upon that portion of my
 time spent in the fields of the Peninsula as the only part worthy of
 remembrance. It is at such times that scenes long past come back upon
 my mind as if they had taken place but yesterday. I remember even the
 very appearance of some of the regiments engaged; and comrades, long
 mouldered to dust, I see again performing the acts of heroes."

Harris gives a bit of dreadful arithmetic, which shows the losses
sustained in the retreat:--

 "After the disastrous retreat to Corunna, the Rifles were reduced
 to a sickly skeleton, if I may so term it. Out of perhaps nine
 hundred of as active and fine fellows as ever held a weapon in the
 field of an enemy's country, we paraded some three hundred weak and
 crestfallen invalids.

 "I myself stood the third man in my own company, which was reduced
 from near a hundred men to but three. Indeed, I think we had scarce
 a company on parade stronger than ten or twelve men at the first
 parade. After a few parades, however, our companies gradually were
 augmented by those of the sick who recovered, but many of those who
 did not sink in hospital were never more of much service as soldiers."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 4: Some of these poor wretches cut a ludicrous figure,
having the men's greatcoats buttoned over their heads, whilst their
clothing, being extremely ragged and scanty, their naked legs were very
conspicuous. They looked a tribe of travelling beggars.]




CHAPTER VI

SOME FAMOUS SOLDIERS


Harris's "Recollections" abound in what may be called thumb-nail
sketches of his comrades and his officers. He had a quick eye for
character as well as for incident; and his descriptions are always
interesting and often very amusing. Harris was naturally more
interested, perhaps, in his comrades than in his officers and his
generals. He was closer to them and understood them better. Yet he
gives some sharply-drawn pictures of famous British battle-leaders as
they were seen by the eyes of the men whom they led. Here, for example,
is a picture of General--afterwards Lord--Hill, just before the battle
of Roliça. "Farmer" Hill was his sobriquet amongst the men, and he
owed that title as much to his homely and kindly spirit as to his red,
broad, and farmer-like face. Says Harris:--

 "We were pelting along through the streets of a village, the name of
 which I do not think I ever knew, so I cannot name it. I was in the
 front and had just cleared the village when I recollect observing
 General Hill (afterwards Lord Hill) and another officer ride up to
 a house, and give their horses to some of the soldiery to hold. Our
 bugles at that moment sounded the halt, and I stood leaning upon my
 rifle near the door of the mansion which General Hill had entered;
 there was a little garden before the house, and I stood by the gate.
 Whilst I remained there the officer who had entered with General Hill
 came to the door and called to me. 'Rifleman,' said he, 'come here.'
 I entered the gate and approached him. 'Go,' he continued, handing
 me a dollar, 'and try if you can get some wine! for we are devilish
 thirsty here.' Taking the dollar I made my way back to the village.
 At a wine-house, where the men were crowding around the door, and
 clamouring for drink (for the day was intensely hot), I succeeded,
 after some little difficulty, in getting a small pipkin full of wine,
 but the crowd was so great that I found as much trouble in paying
 for it as in getting it; so I returned back as fast as I was able,
 fearing that the general would be impatient, and move off before I
 reached him.

 "I remember Lord Hill was loosening his sword-belt as I handed him
 the wine. 'Drink first, Rifleman,' said he, and I took a good pull
 at the pipkin and held it to him again. He looked at it as I did so,
 and told me I might drink it all up, for it appeared greasy; so I
 swallowed the remainder, and handed him back the dollar which I had
 received from the officer. 'Keep the money,' he said, 'my man. Go
 back to the village once more and try if you cannot get me another
 draught.' Saying this, he handed me a second dollar, and told me
 to be quick. I made my way back to the village, got another pipkin
 full, and returned as fast as I could. The general was pleased
 with my promptness, and drank with great satisfaction, handing the
 remainder to the officer who attended him; and I dare say, if he
 ever recollected the circumstance afterwards, that was as sweet a
 draught, after the toil of the morning march, as he has drunk at many
 a nobleman's board in old England since."

Of Beresford, again--who, if he was not a great general, was at least a
terrible fighter--Harris gives an amusing sketch:--

 "I remember a great many of the leaders and heroes of the wars of my
 own time. Alas! they have been cleared off of late pretty handsomely!
 A few years more and the world will be without another living
 remembrancer of either them or their deeds. The ranks are getting
 thin, too, amongst those who, like myself, were the tools with which
 the great men of former days won their renown. I don't know a single
 living man now who was a comrade during the time I served. Very
 nearly fifteen years back, I remember, however, meeting with Robert
 Liston, and that meeting brings Marshal Beresford to my mind.

 "Robert Liston was a corporal in the second battalion of the
 Rifles, when we lay for a few days in the passages of a convent in
 Portugal. We were then making for the frontiers of Spain, when we
 were swept into that disastrous retreat to Corunna. There was a
 punishment parade in the square of this convent. A soldier of the
 92nd or 79th was the culprit, and the kilts were formed to witness
 the performance. Some of the Rifles were looking from the windows
 of the convent at the punishment of the Highlander, when a brickbat
 was hurled from one of the casements and fell at the very toe of the
 lieutenant-colonel, who was standing in the midst, and in command of
 the regiment. The lieutenant-colonel (whose name I never knew) was,
 of course, indignant at such an act; he gazed up at the window from
 which the brick had been thrown, and caused an inquiry instantly
 to be made. It was between the lights when this happened, and it
 was impossible to discover who had done it; however, two or three
 men of the Rifles were confined on suspicion. A man named Baker
 flatly accused Corporal Liston of the act; upon which Liston was
 marched a prisoner to Salamanca (a distance, I should think, of some
 hundred miles); and often did he complain of his hard fate in being
 a Prisoner so long. When we got to Salamanca we halted there for
 eight days; and Liston, being tried by general court-martial, was
 sentenced to receive eight hundred lashes. The whole brigade turned
 out on the occasion, and I remember that the drummers of the 9th
 Regiment were the inflicters of the lash. Liston received the whole
 sentence without a murmur. He had, indeed, been a good soldier, and
 we were all truly sorry for him; in fact, he always declared solemnly
 that he had no more to do with the brickbat than Marshal Beresford
 who commanded the brigade. Whoever committed the act, in my opinion,
 well deserved what Liston got.

 "Marshal Beresford was in command of the brigade at this time; and I
 well remember what a fine-looking soldier he was. He was equal to his
 business, too, I should say; and he, amongst others of our generals,
 often made me think that the French army had nothing to show in the
 shape of officers who could at all compare with ours. There was a
 noble bearing in our leaders, which they on the French side (as far
 as I was capable of observing) had not; and I am convinced that the
 English soldier is even better pleased to be commanded by some men
 of rank in his own country than by one who has risen from his own
 station.

 "They are a strange set, the English! and so determined and
 unconquerable, that they will have their way if they can. Indeed, it
 requires one who has authority in his face, as well as at his back,
 to make them respect and obey him.

 "I never saw Liston after that punishment whilst in Spain; and I
 suppose he remained behind, and got on in the best manner he was able
 in the rear; but, about ten years afterwards, as I was passing down
 Sloane Street, Chelsea, I observed a watchman calling the hour. It
 struck me that I knew his face, and, turning back, I stopped him,
 asking if he was not Robert Liston, formerly a corporal in the 95th
 Rifles? After answering in the affirmative, the first words he spoke
 were, 'Oh, Harris! do you remember what happened to me at Salamanca?'

 "'I do well,' I said.

 "'I was never guilty,' he continued. 'There is no occasion for me
 to deny it now; but I tell you that I was never guilty of the crime
 for which I suffered. Baker was a villain, and I believe that he was
 himself the culprit.'

 "I recollect Marshal Beresford making a speech on the subject of the
 buttons of our greatcoats; and, however such a subject may appear
 trifling for a general officer to speak on, I can tell you it was a
 discourse which our men (some of them) much needed; for they had been
 in the habit of tearing off the buttons from their coats, and after
 hammering them flat, passing them as English coin, in exchange for
 the good wines of Spain. So that, at last, the Spaniards, finding
 they got nothing by the exchange but trumpery bits of battered lead,
 and the children in that country not being in the habit of playing at
 dumps as ours are, they made complaints to the Marshal. Halting the
 brigade, therefore, one day, he gave them a speech upon this fraud,
 and ended by promising a handsome flogging to the first man he found
 thereafter whose greatcoat would not keep buttoned in windy weather."

Of another yet more famous soldier, Napier, we get an interesting
glimpse in Harris's pages:--

 "I remember meeting with General Napier before the battle of Vimiero.
 He was then, I think, a major; and the meeting made so great an
 impression on me that I have never forgotten him. I was posted in a
 wood the night before the battle, in front of our army, where two
 roads crossed each other. The night was gloomy, and I was the very
 out-sentry of the British army. As I stood on my post, peering into
 the thick wood around me, I was aware of footsteps approaching,
 and challenged in a low voice. Receiving no answer, I brought my
 rifle to the port, and bade the strangers come forward. They were
 Major Napier (then of the 50th Foot, I think), and an officer of the
 Rifles. The major advanced close up to me, and looked hard in my face.

 "'Be alert here, sentry,' said he, 'for I expect the enemy upon us
 to-night, and I know not how soon.'

 "I was a young soldier then, and the lonely situation I was in,
 together with the impressive manner in which Major Napier delivered
 his caution, made a great impression on me, and from that hour I
 have never forgotten him. Indeed, I kept careful watch all night,
 listening to the slightest breeze amongst the foliage, in expectation
 of the sudden approach of the French."

Of Wellington himself--then Sir Arthur Wellesley--we have a brief
sketch at Vimiero:--

 "I remember seeing the Duke of Wellington during the battle of
 Vimiero; and in these days, when so much anxiety is displayed to
 catch even a glance of that great man's figure as he gallops along
 the streets of London, it seems gratifying to me to recollect seeing
 him in his proper element, 'the raging and bloody field,' and I have
 frequently taxed my mind to remember each action and look I caught of
 him at that time.

 "I remember seeing the great Duke take his hat off in the field of
 Vimiero, and methinks it is something to have seen that wonderful man
 even do so commonplace a thing as lift his hat to another officer in
 the battle-field. We were generally enveloped in smoke and fire, and
 sometimes unable to distinguish or make remarks upon what was going
 on around, whilst we blazed away at our opponents; but occasionally
 we found time to make our comments upon the game we were playing. Two
 or three fellows near me were observing what was going on just in
 the rear, and I heard one man remark, 'Here comes Sir Arthur and his
 staff'; upon which I also looked back, and caught sight of him just
 meeting two other officers of high rank. They all uncovered as they
 met, and I saw the Duke, as I said (then Sir Arthur Wellesley), take
 off his hat and bow to the other two. The names of the new-comers,
 however they were learnt, whether from some of the men who had before
 seen them, or picked up on the instant from an officer, seemed to
 be well known, as well as the business they were engaged in talking
 of; for it ran along the line from one to the other that Sir Hew
 Dalrymple and Sir Harry Burrard were about to take the command,
 instead of Sir Arthur Wellesley, a circumstance which, of course,
 could only be a random guess amongst these fellows at the moment."

The real hero of Harris's pages, however, is Craufurd, the stern and
even rashly heroic leader of the Light Division, who ended his career
on the great breach at Badajos. Harris came into close contact with
Craufurd, studied him with a curious vividness of insight, and felt
for him an admiring loyalty almost too great for words. His account of
Craufurd gives us what is very rare in literature--a description of a
great commander by one of the privates who trudged in the battalions
he commanded. Harris, in the retreat to Vigo, saw Craufurd under
conditions which might well tax to the uttermost the resources and
temper of a general.

 "I do not think I ever admired any man who wore the British
 uniform more than I did General Craufurd. I could fill a book with
 descriptions of him, for I frequently had my eye upon him in the
 hurry of action. It was gratifying to me, too, to think he did not
 altogether think ill of me, since he has often addressed me kindly
 when, from adverse circumstances, you might have thought that he
 had scarcely spirits to cheer up the men under him. The Rifles
 liked him, but they also feared him, for he could be terrible when
 insubordination showed itself in the ranks. 'You think, because you
 are Riflemen, you may do whatever you think proper,' said he one day
 to the miserable and savage-looking crew around him in the retreat
 to Corunna; 'but I'll teach you the difference before I have done
 with you.' I remember one evening during the retreat he detected two
 men straying away from the main body; it was in the early stage of
 that disastrous flight, and Craufurd knew well that he must do his
 utmost to keep the division together. He halted the brigade with a
 voice of thunder, ordered a drum-head court-martial on the instant,
 and they were sentenced to a hundred apiece. Whilst this hasty trial
 was taking place, Craufurd dismounting from his horse stood in the
 midst, looking stern and angry as a worried bulldog. He did not like
 retreating at all, that man.

 "The three men nearest him as he stood, were Jagger, Dan Howans, and
 myself. All were worn, dejected, and savage, though nothing to what
 we were after a few days more of the retreat. The whole brigade were
 in a grumbling and discontented mood, and Craufurd, doubtless, felt
 ill-pleased with the aspect of affairs altogether.

 "'D--n his eyes!' muttered Howans, 'he had much better try to get us
 something to eat and drink than harass us in this way.'

 "No sooner had Howans disburdened his conscience of this growl than
 Craufurd, who had overheard it, turning sharply round, seized the
 rifle out of Jagger's hand, and felled him to the earth with the
 butt-end.

 "'It was not I who spoke,' said Jagger, getting up and shaking his
 head. 'You shouldn't knock me about.'

 "'I heard you, sir,' said Craufurd, 'and I will bring you also to a
 court-martial.'

 "'I am the man who spoke,' said Howans. 'Ben Jagger never said a
 word.'

 "'Very well,' returned Craufurd, 'then I'll try you, sir.'

 "And, accordingly, when the other affair was disposed of, Howans's
 case came on. By the time the three men were tried it was too dark
 to inflict the punishment. Howans, however, had got the complement
 of three hundred promised to him; so Crauford gave the word to the
 brigade to move on. He marched all that night on foot, and when the
 morning dawned I remember that, like the rest of us, his hair, beard,
 and eyebrows were covered with the frost, as if he had grown white
 with age. We were, indeed, all of us in the same condition. Scarcely
 had I time to notice the appearance of morning before the general
 once more called a halt--we were then on the hills. Ordering a square
 to be formed, he spoke to the brigade, as well as I can remember, in
 these words, after having ordered the three before-named men of the
 95th to be brought into the square:--

 "'Although,' said he, 'I should obtain the goodwill neither of the
 officers nor the men of the brigade here by so doing, I am resolved
 to punish these three men according to the sentence awarded, even
 though the French are at our heels. Begin with Daniel Howans.'

 "This was indeed no time to be lax in discipline, and the general
 knew it. The men, as I said, were some of them becoming careless and
 ruffianly in their demeanour, whilst others again I saw with the
 tears falling down their cheeks from the agony of their bleeding
 feet, and many were ill with dysentery from the effects of the bad
 food they had got hold of and devoured on the road. Our knapsacks,
 too, were a bitter enemy on this prolonged march. Many a man died, I
 am convinced, who would have borne up well to the end of the retreat,
 but for the infernal load we carried on our backs. My own knapsack
 was my bitterest enemy; I felt it press me to the earth almost at
 times, and more than once felt as if I should die under its deadly
 embrace. The knapsacks, in my opinion, should have been abandoned at
 the very commencement of the retrograde movement, as it would have
 been better to have lost them altogether, if, by such loss, we could
 have saved the poor fellows who, as it was, died strapped to them on
 the road.

 "There was some difficulty in finding a place to tie Howans up, as
 the light brigade carried no halberts. However, they led him to a
 slender ash tree which grew near at hand.

 "'Don't trouble yourself about tying me up,' said Howans, folding his
 arms, 'I'll take my punishment like a man!'

 "He did so without a murmur, receiving the whole three hundred.
 His wife, who was present with us, I remember, was a strong, hardy
 Irishwoman. When it was over, she stepped up and covered Howans
 with his grey greatcoat. The general then gave the word to move on.
 I rather think he knew the enemy was too near to punish the other
 two delinquents just then; so we proceeded out of the corn-field in
 which we had been halted, and toiled away upon the hills once more,
 Howans's wife carrying the jacket, knapsack, and pouch, which the
 lacerated state of the man's back would not permit him to bear.

 "It could not have been, I should think, more than an hour after the
 punishment had been inflicted upon Howans, when the general again
 gave the word for the brigade to halt, and once more formed them
 into a square. We had begun to suppose that he intended to allow the
 other two delinquents to escape, under the present difficulties and
 hardships of the retreat. He was not, however, one of the forgetful
 sort, when the discipline of the army under him made severity
 necessary.

 "'Bring out the other two men of the 95th,' said he, 'who were tried
 last night.'

 "The men were brought forth accordingly, and their
 lieutenant-colonel, Hamilton Wade, at the same time stepped forth.
 He walked up to the general, and lowering his sword, requested that
 he would forgive these men, as they were both of them good soldiers,
 and had fought in all the battles of Portugal.

 "'I order you, sir,' said the general, 'to do your duty. These men
 shall be punished.'

 "The lieutenant-colonel, therefore, recovering his sword, turned
 about, and fell back to the front of the Rifles. One of the men,
 upon this (I think it was Armstrong), immediately began to unstrap
 his knapsack, and prepare for the lash. Craufurd had turned about
 meanwhile, and walked up to one side of the square. Apparently he
 suddenly relented a little, and, again turning sharply around,
 returned towards the two prisoners. 'Stop,' said he. 'In consequence
 of the intercession of your lieutenant-colonel, I will allow you thus
 much: you shall draw lots and the winner shall escape; but one of the
 two I am determined to make an example of.'

 "The square was formed in a stubble-field, and the sergeant-major of
 the Rifles, immediately stooping down, plucked up two straws, and the
 men coming forward, drew. I cannot be quite certain, but I think it
 was Armstrong who drew the longest straw, and won the safety of his
 hide; and his fellow-gamester was in quick time tied to a tree, and
 the punishment commenced. A hundred was the sentence; but when the
 bugler had counted seventy-five, the general granted him a further
 indulgence, and ordered him to be taken down and to join his company.
 The general calling for his horse, now mounted for the first time for
 many hours; for he had not ridden all night, not indeed since the
 drum-head court-martial had taken place. Before he put the brigade
 in motion again, he gave us another short specimen of his eloquence,
 pretty much, I remember, after this style:--

 "'I give you all notice,' said he, 'that I will halt the brigade
 again the very first moment I perceive any man disobeying my orders,
 and try him by court-martial on the spot.' He then gave us the word,
 and we resumed our march.

 "Many who read this, especially in these peaceful times, may suppose
 this was a cruel and unnecessary severity under the dreadful and
 harassing circumstances of that retreat; but I, who was there, and
 was, besides, a common soldier of the very regiment to which these
 men belonged, say it was quite necessary. No man but one formed
 of stuff like General Craufurd could have saved the brigade from
 perishing altogether; and if he flogged two, he saved hundreds from
 death by his management.

 "It was perhaps a couple of days after this had taken place that we
 came to a river. It was tolerably wide, but not very deep, which was
 just as well for us; for, had it been deep as the dark regions, we
 must have somehow or other got through. The avenger was behind us,
 and Craufurd was along with us, and the two together kept us moving,
 whatever was in the road. Accordingly, into the stream went the light
 brigade, and Craufurd, as busy as a shepherd with his flock, riding
 in and out of the water, to keep his wearied band from being drowned
 as they crossed over. Presently he spied an officer who, to save
 himself from being wet through, I suppose, and wearing a damp pair
 of breeches for the remainder of the day, had mounted on the back of
 one of his men. The sight of such a piece of effeminacy was enough
 to raise the choler of the general, and in a very short time he was
 plunging and splashing through the water after them both.

 "'Put him down, sir! put him down! I desire you to put that officer
 down instantly!' And the soldier, in an instant, I dare say nothing
 loath, dropping his burden like a hot potato into the stream,
 continued his progress through. 'Return back, sir,' said Crauford to
 the officer, 'and go through the water like the others. I will not
 allow my officers to ride upon the men's backs through the rivers;
 all must take their share alike here.'

 "Wearied as we were, this affair caused all who saw it to shout
 almost with laughter, and was never forgotten by those who survived
 the retreat.

 "General Craufurd was indeed one of the few men who was apparently
 created for command during such dreadful scenes as we were familiar
 with in this retreat. He seemed an iron man; nothing daunted
 him--nothing turned him from his purpose. War was his very element,
 and toil and danger seemed to call forth only an increasing
 determination to surmount them. I was sometimes amused with his
 appearance, and that of the men around us; for, the Rifles being
 always at his heels, he seemed to think them his familiars. If he
 stopped his horse, and halted to deliver one of his stern reprimands,
 you would see half-a-dozen lean, unshaven, shoeless, and savage
 Riflemen, standing for the moment leaning upon their weapons, and
 scowling up in his face as he scolded; and when he dashed the spurs
 into his reeking horse, they would throw up their rifles upon their
 shoulders and hobble after him again. He was sometimes to be seen
 in the front, then in the rear, and then you would fall in with
 him again in the midst, dismounted, and marching on foot, that the
 men might see he took an equal share in the toils which they were
 enduring. He had a mortal dislike, I remember, to a commissary. Many
 a time have I heard him storming at the neglect of those gentry;
 when the men were starving for rations, and nothing but excuses
 forthcoming.

 "Twice I remember he was in command of the light brigade. The second
 time he joined them he made, I heard, something like these remarks,
 after they had been some little time in Spain:--

 "'When I commanded you before,' he said, 'I know full well that you
 disliked me, for you thought me severe. This time I am glad to find
 there is a change in yourselves.'"




CHAPTER VII

THE "TOMMY ATKINS" OF A CENTURY AGO.


Harris's descriptions of his comrades are always kindly, but they are
keen. There is a touch of barrack freedom about them, and they have
a Dutch realism which sometimes makes them unquotable. They give an
excellent idea of the British soldier of a bygone generation, the men
who constituted the rank and file of the most famous army that ever
marched beneath the British flag--the men of the Peninsula. Perhaps
nowhere else in literature can be found descriptions so homely and
real of the soldier as seen--on the march, in the firing line, and by
the camp-fire--by his own comrade. Harris's attention is naturally
most arrested by the human oddities amongst his comrades, or by such
of them as had in their appearance, or in their fate, a gleam of the
picturesque. Here are some of the portraits in his picture gallery:--

 "A youth joined the Rifles soon after I myself put on the green
 jacket, whose name was Medley. He was but a small chap, being under
 the standard one inch[5]; but our officers thought he promised fair
 to become a tall fellow, and he was, accordingly, not rejected.
 Medley did not deceive them, for, on the day he first joined the
 Rifles, he was five feet one inch in height, and on the day he was
 killed, at Barossa, he was exactly six feet one. He was celebrated
 for being the greatest grumbler, the greatest eater, and the most
 quarrelsome fellow in the whole corps. I remember he cut a most
 desperate figure in the retreat to Corunna; for there he had enough
 to bear both of fatigue and hunger; and a very little of either of
 these disagreeables would make him extremely bad company at any time.
 It was dangerous, too, to bid him hold his tongue sometimes; for he
 had picked up so amongst us since he was only five feet one, and
 grown so bony as well as tall, that he would challenge and thrash
 any man in the corps. Corunna, however, though it could not stop
 his growling, took the desire of boxing quite out of him, and he
 sprawled, scrambled, and swore, till he somehow got through that
 business. If General Craufurd could have heard but the twentieth
 part of what I heard him utter about him on that retreat, I think he
 would have cut Medley in half. He was, as I said, a capital feeder,
 and his own allowance was not half enough to satisfy his cravings, so
 that he often got some of his comrades to help him out with a portion
 of theirs. He was killed at Barossa, as I said, and he carried his
 ill-humour with him to the very last hour of his life; for, being
 knocked over by a musket-ball in the thigh, he was spoken to as he
 lay by some of his comrades, who, asking if they should assist him,
 and carry him to the rear, he told them to 'Go and be d--d!' and
 bidding them mind their own business, abused them till they passed on
 and left him. I was told this last anecdote of him by the very men
 who had spoken to him and got his blessing as he lay.

        *       *       *       *       *

 "We had another tall fellow in the four companies of Rifles who were
 in that retreat. His name was Thomas Higgins; he was six feet one
 and a half, and quite as lank and bony as Medley. He also was an
 ill-tempered fellow, but nothing to compare with him either in eating
 or grumbling. The tall men, I have often observed, bore fatigue much
 worse than the short ones; and Higgins amongst others of the big 'uns
 was dreadfully put to it to keep on. We lost him entirely when about
 half through this business, I remember; for, during a short halt of
 about ten minutes, he was reprimanded by one of our officers for the
 slovenly state of his clothing and accoutrements; his dress almost
 dropping from his lower limbs, and his knapsack hanging by a strap or
 two down about his waist. Higgins did not take it at all kind being
 quarrelled with at such a time, and, uttering sundry impertinences,
 desired to know if they were ever to be allowed to halt any more,
 adding that he did not see very well how he was to be very smart
 after what he had already gone through. The officer spoke to one of
 the sergeants upon this, and bid him remember, if they got to their
 journey's end, to give Higgins an extra guard for his behaviour.
 'Oh! then, d--n me,' says Higgins, 'if ever I take it!' and turning
 about, as we all moved on at the word to march, he marched off in
 the contrary direction, and we never either saw or heard of him from
 that hour; and it was supposed afterwards, amongst us, that he had
 either perished alone in the night, or joined the French, who were at
 our heels. These were the two tallest men in the four companies of
 Rifles; and both were in the company I belonged to. Higgins was the
 right-hand, and Medley the left-hand man.

        *       *       *       *       *

 "Thomas Mayberry was a man well known at that time in the Rifles. He
 was a sergeant in my day, and was much thought of by our officers as
 a very active and useful non-commissioned officer, being considered,
 up to the time of his committing the slight mistake I shall have to
 tell of, one of the most honest men in the army. With the men he
 was not altogether so well liked, as he was considered rather too
 blusterous and tyrannical. Whilst in the town of Hythe, he got the
 fingering of about two hundred pounds for the purpose of paying
 for necessaries purchased for the men of his company, and which
 two hundred pounds he had, in a very short space of time, managed
 to make away with, and lose in the society of a party of gamblers,
 who at that time infested the town of Hythe. He was brought to
 court-martial, together with two other men, whom he had seduced to
 become partners in his gambling transactions; and, on the inquiry,
 it was further discovered that he had been in the habit of cheating
 the men of his company out of a farthing a week each for the last
 ten months. That was, perhaps, the worst thing against him. He was
 sentenced to receive seven hundred lashes.

 "When Mayberry was tied up, he was offered, as was then customary,
 the option of banishment; but he refused it, notwithstanding
 considerable entreaty was made to him by his two comrades to accept
 it, as, by so doing, they thought they all would escape the lash.
 However, Mayberry decided to take the seven hundred, and bore the
 sentence without a murmur. Not so the two others; Morrisson screamed
 and struggled so much, that he capsized the triangle, and all came
 sprawling together, so that he was obliged to be held by a man at
 each side. Devine came last. He was rather an effeminate-looking man,
 and the colonel rode round and told him he lamented being obliged to
 break so fair a skin, but he must do his duty. However, as he had
 borne a good character, and was not so much to blame as the other
 two, he let him down after five-and-twenty.

 "Mayberry after this was much scouted by his fellow-soldiers, and
 also ill-thought-of by the officers; and, on a detachment being
 sent to Portugal, he volunteered for the expedition. Captain Hart,
 however, would fain have declined taking him, as he had so bad an
 opinion of him after this affair; but Mayberry showed himself so
 desirous of going, that at last he consented, and took him. At the
 siege of Badajos, Mayberry wiped off, in a measure, all his former
 ill-conduct. He was seen by Captain Hart to behave so bravely in the
 breach, that he commended him on the spot.

 "'Well done, Mayberry!' said he; 'you have this day done enough
 to obliterate your disgrace; and, if we live, I will endeavour to
 restore you to your former rank. Go now to the rear; you have done
 enough for one day.' Mayberry, however, refused to retire, although
 covered with wounds; for he was known to have killed seven with his
 own hand, with his rifle sword-bayonet.

 "'No going to the rear for me,' he said. 'I'll restore myself to my
 comrades' opinion, or make a finish of myself altogether.'

 "He accordingly continued in the front of all, till at last he
 was seen to be cut down, in the clear light of the fire-balls, by
 a tremendous sword-cut, which cleft his skull almost in twain.
 Morrisson, I heard, also died at that siege. Devine returned safe
 home, and died of fatigue at Fermoy.

        *       *       *       *       *

 "The intelligence of these men was indeed very great, and I could
 relate instances of their recklessness and management which would
 amuse the reader much. I remember a fellow, named Jackman, getting
 close up to the walls at Flushing, and working a hole in the earth
 with his sword, into which he laid himself, and remained there alone,
 in spite of all the efforts of the enemy and their various missiles
 to dislodge him. He was known, thus earthed, to have killed, with the
 utmost coolness and deliberation, eleven of the French artillerymen
 as they worked at their guns. As fast as they relieved each fallen
 comrade did Jackman pick them off; after which he took to his heels,
 and got safe back to his comrades.

        *       *       *       *       *

 "There were three brothers in the Rifles named Hart--John, Mike, and
 Peter--and three more perfectly reckless fellows, perhaps, never
 existed. Nothing ever escaped their notice; and they would create
 the greatest fun and laughter, even when advancing under the hottest
 fire of the enemy, and their comrades being shot down beside them. I
 remember Lieutenant Molly, who was himself 'as fine a soldier as ever
 stepped, and as full of life in the midst of death' as these Harts,
 being obliged to check them at Vimiero. 'D--n you!' he said to them,
 'keep back, and get under cover. Do you think you are fighting here
 with your fists that you are running into the teeth of the French?'

 "I never saw those three men, to appearance, in the least degree
 worse for hard work during the time we remained in Portugal.
 They could run like deer, and were, indeed, formed by nature and
 disposition for the hardships, difficulties, and privations of the
 sort of life we then led. They were, however, all three pretty well
 done up during the retreat to Corunna; though, even in that dreadful
 business, their lightheartedness and attempts at fun served to keep
 up the spirits of many a man who would else have been broken-hearted
 before the English shipping appeared in sight. They even carried
 their pleasantry on that occasion so far as to make a jest of their
 own appearance, and the miserable plight of the whole turn-out, as we
 disembarked upon the beach at Portsmouth. One of them even went so
 far as to observe, 'that we looked more like the rakings of h-- than
 the fragments of an army!'

 "Nothing, indeed, but that grave of battalions, that unwholesome
 fen, Flushing, could have broken the spirits of three such soldiers
 as John, Mike, and Peter Hart. A few weeks, however, of that country
 sufficed to quiet them for evermore. One, I remember, died; and
 the other two, although they lived to return, were never worth a
 rush afterwards, but, like myself, remained living examples of what
 climate can bring even a constitution and body framed as if of iron
 to.

 "Nothing I suppose could exceed the dreadful appearance we cut on
 the occasion of the disembarkation from Corunna; and the inhabitants
 of Portsmouth, who had assembled in some numbers to see us land, were
 horror-stricken with the sight of their countrymen and relatives
 returning to England in such a ghastly state; whilst the three Harts,
 with feet swathed in bloody rags, clothing that hardly covered their
 nakedness, accoutrements in shreds, beards covering their faces, eyes
 dimmed with toil (for some were even blind), arms nearly useless to
 those who had them left, the rifles being encrusted with rust, and
 the swords glued to the scabbard--these three brothers, I say (for
 I heard them myself), as they hobbled up the beach, were making all
 sorts of remarks, and cracking their jokes upon the misery of our
 situation and the appearance they themselves cut.

        *       *       *       *       *

 "Whilst we lay near Cork we were joined by one Richard Pullen,
 amongst others; he had exchanged from the English militia into the
 Irish, and volunteered to us Rifles from the North Mayo. He brought
 with him little else to boast of but his wife and his two children,
 Charles and Susan. Charles was a mischievous boy of about twelve,
 and Susan was a pretty little lass of about fourteen years of age.
 I remember they all went with us to Copenhagen, and got through
 that expedition pretty well. That affair suited a man of Pullen's
 description, for he didn't like too much service; and we soon found
 he was rather a shy cock. I remember remarking that Pullen (even on
 the first day of the retreat to Corunna) looked very chapfallen and
 seedy; and he was beginning even then to complain that he could not
 stand much more. The wife and children, too, were dropping behind.
 They all thought, poor souls! that when night came on they were, of
 course, to be billeted; but the open world was now their only refuge,
 and no allowance to stop or lie down, even on the bare heath, at that
 time. I saw Pullen again on the third or fourth day; neither the
 wife nor children were then with him, nor could he tell where they
 were; he could only answer for himself, and expected to drop dead,
 he said, every step. That's all I saw of Pullen and his wife and
 children on the retreat, or even thought of them; for I had enough
 to do to keep my own strength up. When we landed at Portsmouth,
 both myself and others (to our no small surprise) saw Pullen once
 more; and much we wondered at the sight of him, when so many better
 and stronger soldiers had died before half of that retreat was
 accomplished. We found that he had left behind him, and knew nothing
 of the fate of either his wife or his children, Charles and Susan. As
 the men continued to disembark, however, there was Pullen inquiring
 anxiously of every one for some tidings of them. None, however, could
 he get. At last he saw his wife coming up the beach, and hobbled off
 to meet her, each at the same moment inquiring for the children,
 Charles and Susan. He trusted they were with the wife; and she hoped
 they were with the husband; and both sat down upon the beach and
 cried in concert.

 "All our men thought it useless of them to continue their inquiries;
 but they never failed to ask after their offspring of every fresh
 face they fell in with who had been in that retreat. In about a
 fortnight's time, not satisfied, they advertised Charles and Susan in
 the public newspapers; and we all laughed at the very idea of their
 ever finding them again, and told them they might have spared the
 money. To our no small surprise, however, the artillery at Plymouth
 answered their advertisement, stating that a little girl had been
 heard screaming upon the mountains in Spain by them in the night, and
 that they had taken care of her as well as they could, and had her
 then with them. The description answering, the girl was forwarded
 to Hythe; and Pullen and his wife once more embraced their daughter
 Susan.

        *       *       *       *       *

 "There was, I recollect, a man of the name of Bell, of the Rifles,
 who had been during this day holding a sort of creeping race with
 me--we had passed and repassed each other as our strength served.
 Bell was rather a discontented fellow at the best of times; but
 during this retreat he had given full scope to his ill-temper,
 cursing the hour he was born, and wishing his mother had strangled
 him when he came into the world, in order to have saved him from his
 present toil. He had not now spoken for some time, and the sight of
 the English shipping had apparently a very beneficial effect upon
 him. He burst into tears as he stood and looked at it.

 "'Harris,' he said, 'if it pleases God to let me reach those ships, I
 swear never to utter a bad or discontented word again.'

        *       *       *       *       *

 "The history of Sergeant-Major Adams is somewhat singular. I was
 his great friend at this time, and he confided some part of it to
 me. He had been a croppy (a rebel) and had fought at Vinegar Hill.
 When the rebels were defeated he escaped, and lived some time in the
 wilds of Connemara. He afterwards thought it best to enlist in the
 Donegal militia, and then volunteered to the Rifles. Here he soon
 rose (whilst in Spain) to the rank of sergeant. During the retreat to
 Corunna, Sergeant-Major Crosby failed, and Craufurd promoted Adams
 in his place. At St. Sebastian he was noticed by General Graham for
 his bravery with the forlorn hope; a commission was given him, and
 he afterwards joined a regiment in Gibraltar, where he was made
 adjutant. He then went to America, where he served with credit till
 he died. I believe I was the only man in the regiment who knew of his
 having been a rebel, and I kept the secret faithfully till his death.

        *       *       *       *       *

 "The story of Demon, whom I myself enlisted from the Leicester
 militia, is not a little curious. Demon was a smart and very
 active man, and serving as corporal in the light company of the
 Leicestershire, when I persuaded him to join our corps, where he was
 immediately made a sergeant in the third battalion then just forming,
 and from which he eventually rose to be a commissioned officer in one
 of our line regiments. The cause which led to Demon's merits being
 first noticed was not a little curious, being neither more nor less
 than a race.

 "It happened that at Shoreham Cliff, soon after he joined, a race was
 got up among some Kentish men who were noted for their swiftness, and
 one of them, who had beaten his companions, challenged any soldier
 in the Rifles to run against him for two hundred pounds. The sum was
 large, and the runner was of so much celebrity that, although we had
 some active young fellows amongst us, no one seemed inclined to take
 the chance, either officers or men, till at length Demon stepped
 forth and said he would run against this Kentish boaster or any man
 on the face of the earth, and fight him afterwards into the bargain,
 if any one could be found to make up the money. Upon this an officer
 subscribed the money, and the race was arranged.

 "The affair made quite a sensation, and the inhabitants of the
 different villages from miles around flocked to see the sport;
 besides which the men from different regiments in the neighbourhood,
 infantry, cavalry, and artillery, also were much interested, and
 managed to be present, which caused the scene to be a very gay one.
 In short the race commenced, and the odds were much against the
 soldier at starting, as he was a much less man than the other, and
 did not at all look like the winner. He, however, kept well up with
 his antagonist, and the affair seemed likely to end in a dead heat,
 which would undoubtedly have been the case, but Demon, when close
 upon the winning-post, gave one tremendous spring forward, and won it
 by his body's length.

 "This race, in short, led on to notice and promotion. General
 Mackenzie was in command of the garrison at Hythe. He was present,
 and was highly delighted at the Rifleman beating the bumpkin, and saw
 that the winner was the very cut of a soldier, and, in short, that
 Demon was a very smart fellow, so that eventually the news of the
 race reached the first battalion then fighting in Spain. Sir Andrew
 Barnard at the time was then in command of the Rifles in Spain; upon
 being told of the circumstance, remarked that, as Demon was such a
 smart runner in England, there was very good ground for a Rifleman to
 use his legs in Spain. He was accordingly ordered out with the next
 draft to that country, where he so much distinguished himself that he
 obtained his commission, as already mentioned."

One gleam of the more tender sentiments which shines in Harris's
"Recollections"--almost the solitary love affair he records--was of a
very amusing kind. He was the shoemaker of the company, and when in
Lisbon he was detailed, with three other men, to discover a shoemaker's
shop, where all the worn-out shoes of the battalion might be mended.
Says Harris:--

 "We carried with us three small sacks filled with old boots and
 shoes, and entering Lisbon went into the first shoemaker's shop we
 saw. Here I endeavoured in vain to make myself understood for some
 time. There was a master shoemaker at work and three men. They did
 not seem to like our intrusion, and looked very sulky, asking us
 various questions which I could not understand, the only words I
 could at all comprehend being, 'Bonos Irelandos, brutu Englisa.' I
 thought, considering we had come so far to fight their battles for
 them, that this was the north side of civil; so I signed to the
 men, and, by way of explanation of our wishes, and in order to cut
 the matter short, they emptied the three sackful of boots and shoes
 upon the floor. We now explained what we would be at; the boots and
 shoes of the Rifles spoke for themselves, and, seating ourselves,
 we commenced work forthwith. In this way we continued employed
 whilst the army lay near Lisbon, every morning coming in to work and
 returning to the camp every night to sleep.

 "After we had been there several days, our landlord's family had the
 curiosity to come occasionally and take a peep at us. My companions
 were noisy, good-tempered, jolly fellows, and usually sang all the
 time they hammered and strapped. The mistress of the house, seeing
 I was the head-man, occasionally came and sat down beside me as I
 worked, bringing her daughter, a very handsome dark-eyed Spanish
 girl, and as a matter of course I fell in love.

 "We soon became better acquainted, and the mother one evening, after
 having sat and chatted to me, serving me with wine and other good
 things, on my rising to leave the shop, made a signal for me to
 follow her. She had managed to pick up a little English, and I knew
 a few words of the Spanish language, so that we could pretty well
 comprehend each other's meaning; and after leading me into their
 sitting-room, she brought her handsome daughter, and, without more
 circumstance, offered her to me for a wife. The offer was a tempting
 one, but the conditions of the marriage made it impossible for me to
 comply, since I was to change my religion and desert my colours. The
 old dame proposed to conceal me effectually when the army marched,
 after which I was to live like a gentleman, with the handsome Maria
 for a wife.

 "It was hard to refuse so tempting an offer, with the pretty Maria
 endeavouring to back her mother's proposal. I, however, made them
 understand that nothing would tempt me to desert, and, promising to
 try and get my discharge when I returned to England, protested I
 would then return and marry Maria.

 "Soon after this the army marched for Spain; the Rifles paraded in
 the very street where the shop I had so long worked at was situated,
 and I saw Maria at the window. As our bugles struck up she waved
 her handkerchief; I returned the salute, and in half-an-hour had
 forgotten all about her. So much for a soldier's love!"

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 5: The standard at that time, when men were quickly used up,
was five feet two with us.]




III

A ROYAL HIGHLANDER




III.--A ROYAL HIGHLANDER


James Anton, who rose to be quarter-master-sergeant of the 42nd, or
Royal Highlanders, and wrote a "Retrospect of Military Life," published
in 1841, was a typical Scottish soldier of the ranks. His memoir
gives, quite unconsciously, an amusing picture of the writer. He was
but an infant when his father died. His mother, a Scottish peasant
woman, hardy and frugal like all her class, reared her child with an
even greater economy of oatmeal and a more plentiful allowance of the
Shorter Catechism than is common in the poorest Scottish homes.

Anton is fond of describing his experiences in large literary terms. Of
his mother he says, "Sparta never had her equal in respect to what may
be called self-denial. She ceased not by precept, as well as example,
to impress on me the same contempt for ease and luxury she herself
entertained." Probably Anton's mother had the vaguest notion of what
such words as "ease and luxury" meant. She worked like a slave, fared
like a Trappist monk, and trained her child to thin diet, long lessons,
and hard work from his tenderest years.

Like most Scottish mothers, she was a God-fearing woman, rich in the
homely wisdom of peasant life. A love of education burns in Scottish
blood of all ranks, and young Anton was drilled in grammar and the
multiplication table, plentifully flavoured with the Shorter Catechism,
the proverbs of Solomon, the Psalms of David, and Scripture history
generally.

He emerged from the process lean and stunted physically--he was
rejected at first for the militia as being under the standard, and
only succeeded in striking the gauge on a second test by standing on
half tip-toe. But he had some of the qualities which go to make a
good soldier. He was cool, shrewd, tough, rich, after the fashion of
Scottish youth, in hard-headed common-sense, with a stomach that could
extract nutriment from the sternest diet, and a frugality which could
accumulate savings from the very scantiest pay. He records with true
Scottish complacency that when he entered the militia he had saved the
magnificent sum of £15; and before he left that corps for the line
this had grown to £60. That was a very remarkable record for a private
soldier; and, characteristically enough, he adds that during this whole
process he sent a £1 note at regular intervals to his mother--a form of
domestic piety in which a Scottish lad, peasant or soldier, does not
often fail.

It may be asked what impulse sent a youth of this type--under-sized,
lean, frugal, canny--to a soldier's life? But a fighting impulse is
native to Scottish blood, whether Lowland or Highland; and Anton, in
addition, had wit enough to see that a soldier's career for the sober,
frugal, order-obeying, pence-accumulating Scottish peasant had many
advantages. Certainly, Anton himself did not do badly as a private of
the 42nd.

Anton joined the militia in 1802. While serving in Aberdeen the
militiamen were allowed to sell their labour, when drill was over, to
the contractors then occupied in building a bridge over the Denburn;
and Anton, of course, worked hard and long, and so the pence in his
pouch grew fast. He records, quaintly, his joy in the very frugality of
the rations served out to him and his fellow-militiamen. They received
half a pound of beef or mutton per man daily; and this was a quarter
of a pound less than the orthodox allowance. But, Anton argues, "if
we did not get it, we did not pay for it. Indeed, small allowances of
provisions are always best. Why force upon us," he asks indignantly,
"more than is barely necessary for subsistence, when--when, in brief,
more meal in the platter means fewer pence in the pocket?" It was not
for nothing that Anton had been brought up with something more than
Spartan rigour!

Anton entered the army just in time to see one ridiculous custom
disappear. The long, elaborate, flour-besprinkled and grease-besmeared
queue of Marlborough's days still dangled down the unfortunate
soldier's back. Anton records the deliverance of the army from this
barbaric ornament with a touch of unusual feeling:--

 "During the time that the regiment was quartered in Musselburgh, a
 general order was issued for the army to discontinue the tying of
 the hair, and to have it cropped. Never was an order received with
 more heartfelt satisfaction than this, or obeyed with more alacrity,
 notwithstanding the foolish predictions of some old superannuated
 gentlemen that it would cause a mutiny in the army. The tying was a
 daily penance, and a severe one, to which every man had to submit;
 and there is little doubt but this practice had been introduced by
 some foreign fops, and enforced by antiquated prigs as necessary to
 the cleanly appearance of the soldier. It had been very injurious
 in its effects on the general comforts of those who were obliged to
 submit to it, and the soldier looks back to the task with the painful
 remembrance of the punishment he suffered every morning, daubing the
 side of his head with dirty grease, soap, and flour, until every
 hair stood like the burr of a thistle, and the back was padded and
 pulled so that every hair had to keep its due place; if one less
 subordinate than the rest chanced to start up in spite of grease,
 soap-lather, and flour, the poor man had to sit down and submit his
 head to another dressing, and afterwards parade for inspection among
 the defaulters of the regiment.

 "A certain latitude and longitude was assigned for the breadth and
 length of the queue, to which a gauge was frequently applied, in
 the same manner as some modern sticklers for uniformity at this day
 use a measure to ascertain the dimensions of the soldiers' folded
 greatcoats at guard mounting; but with this difference, the coat
 receives no bad impression from the stickler's gauge, whereas the
 greased and powdered hair retained the mark, and the poor fellow who
 had the misfortune to have the powder brushed aside by his awkward
 inspector, stood a chance of being turned off parade to have his hair
 dressed afresh, just as if the unlucky mark rendered him unfit for
 any military movement, or divested him of all the requisites of a
 soldier. Indeed, it was no uncommon circumstance for us, when on the
 guard-bench and asleep, to have the rats and mice scrambling about
 our heads, eating the filthy stuff with which our hair was bedaubed."

In 1805 Anton joined the 42nd, and his professional life as a soldier
began.




CHAPTER I

ABOUT SOLDIERS' WIVES


Anton's officers were quick to discover his steadiness, his frugality,
his methodical loyalty to every duty of a soldier. He was first put
on recruiting service, and then had his reward in the form which most
delighted him. He was allowed to marry. Only to a certain proportion of
soldiers in each regiment was granted this privilege; and Anton, who
was an odd combination of soft domestic instincts and hard soldierly
pluck, welcomed with a joy which he takes no pains to conceal the
permission to impose on the object of his affections the hardships and
the perils which must befall the wife of a soldier who accompanies her
husband on active service.

Anton plainly showed all his usual Scottish sense in his choice
of a helpmate. She was a hardy peasant girl, plain-featured and
strong-bodied, as frugal, as uncomplaining, and as canny as Anton
himself; and one chief merit of Anton's memoirs is the picture it
offers of a woman's experiences, caught in the rush and whirl of the
great history-making campaigns of the Peninsula.

Anton was still happier when, on his regiment being ordered on active
service, he was allowed to take his wife with him. This was a very
rare privilege indeed. Only four women were permitted to follow each
company of the regiment; and Anton tells how, when the regiment had
reached Ostend, at the beginning of the Waterloo campaign, even this
privilege was suddenly narrowed, and instructions were received that
only two women could be allowed to go with each company. Half the women
of the regiment were thus left stranded, penniless and friendless, in
a foreign port, and saw their red-coated husbands march off into space
with many a backward look at their weeping wives.

But the hardy women of the barracks are not easily defeated. "We had
been only two days in Ghent," says Anton, "when the women left at
Ostend found their way to the regiment." They had marched on their own
account in the regiment's track, and presented themselves bedraggled
and footsore at its quarters in Ghent. The authorities were inexorable,
and the weeping women were again conveyed back to the same place from
which they escaped, and there closely watched. But woman's wit and
wiles proved too much for the sentinels. In a week or two the forsaken
but enterprising wives eluded the vigilance of the sentries, and joined
their husbands once more; and as no official reports were made to their
prejudice, they were allowed to follow the fortunes of their husbands
during the campaign.

Anton, somewhat ungratefully--considering the devotion and sufferings
of his own wife--says that, in his judgment, women ought not to be
allowed to accompany the soldiers through a campaign. He writes:--

 "On all occasions of troops being despatched to the scene of
 expected hostilities women should not be permitted to accompany
 them. If any exception is made in one single instance it only gives
 room for pressing and almost irresistible applications from others,
 and throws the performance of a very painful duty, namely, refusing
 permission, on the officers commanding companies. Every private
 soldier conceives that he has as good a right to this indulgence
 for his wife as the first non-commissioned officer in the regiment,
 and certainly he is right; she will prove much more useful than one
 who, instead of being serviceable, considers herself entitled to be
 served, assumes the consequence of a lady without any of the good
 qualifications or accomplishments of one, and helps to embitter the
 domestic enjoyments of others by exciting petty jealousies that
 otherwise would never exist."

Anton gives very sensibly, and from the private soldier's point of
view, his opinion of how the soldier's wife should be treated:--

 "It is generally the case in selecting women to follow the army to
 a foreign station, that choice is made of those without children,
 as they are considered more capable of performing the services that
 may be required of them than those encumbered with a family. This,
 though just as regards our wants, is not so with respect to many a
 well-deserving woman, who is thus cast on the public or left to her
 own exertions, which too often fail her in the endeavour to support
 herself and children, while the childless woman is selected to profit
 from that circumstance.

 "A woman who is permitted to accompany her husband receives a half
 ration free; a child above seven years, one-third; and one under
 seven years, a quarter of a ration; and although this is but a very
 trifling allowance, would it not do much better to give it to those
 of good character who are not permitted to accompany their husbands?
 I must also remark that, on foreign stations where this allowance
 is made to the women and children, it will be found that the least
 necessitous are the first to apply and the first to be placed on
 this benevolent list. I have seen privates' wives, with three or
 more children, without rations; while the wives and children of
 sergeant-majors and quartermaster-sergeants were getting them."

Anton gives--quite incidentally, and without betraying any
consciousness that he is adding a very exceptional chapter to military
records--an account of his own experiences as a married soldier, which
is very amusing and sometimes very touching. Here is his story of an
early Spanish bivouac, and one cannot but pity the feelings of a modest
Scottish girl in such an environment:--

 "After having seen the provisions distributed I set about looking
 out for some accommodation for my wife, for we had not as yet been
 accustomed to lie on the open field, as in bivouac, nor even seen
 the like, and the tent was far from comfortable for a poor, wearied,
 young woman; I shall not mention delicacy, for that would be out of
 place--we must submit to circumstances. The names of seventeen men
 were on the roll of the tent besides myself, so it may be easily
 guessed how crowded it must have been had the whole been off duty,
 but this was seldom the case. However, as no other shelter was to be
 had we took a berth under it.

 "Eleven soldiers lay in it that night along with us, all stretched
 with their feet to the centre and their heads to the curtain of
 the tent, every man's knapsack below his head, and his clothes and
 accoutrements on his body; the one-half of the blankets under, and
 the other spread over the whole, so that we all lay in one bed.
 Often did my poor wife look up to the thin canvas that screened her
 face from the night-dew and wish for the approaching morn. It was
 announced at last, before daybreak, by an exclamation of 'Rouse!'
 which passed from tent to tent along the lines, when every man
 started up, folded his blanket, and strapped it on the back of his
 knapsack, ready for a march, and soon afterwards the sound of bugle
 and drum echoed from hill to hill; meanwhile, the army stood to arms,
 each regiment at its alarm post, until about sunrise."

The regiment was in camp here for a short time, and Anton resolved on
securing better accommodation for his wife. He says:--

 "I now set about erecting a hut for myself and wife, resolving, if
 possible, not to mix blankets with so many bedfellows again. This I
 was the more anxious to do, because at that time the whole of the men
 were affected with an eruption on their skin similar to the itch, and
 their clothing was in a very filthy state, owing to its being seldom
 shifted, and always kept on during the night.

 "With the assistance of a few willing hands I finished the hut in
 the course of the day, so that it served for a temporary shelter,
 and prevented myself and wife from depriving the men of their very
 limited accommodation in the tent. When I stretched myself down at
 night in my new habitation, my head rested against the one end, while
 my feet touched the other, at which was the entrance; my wife's apron
 being hung up as a substitute for a door, a couple of pins on each
 side served for lock and hinges, and feeble as that barrier was, none
 of the men entered when that was suspended, and we might have left it
 to its own keeping from morning till night without an article being
 abstracted. Thieving, indeed, was unknown in the regiment; but, in
 fact, there was little of worth to steal amongst us."

Later--in October, when the bitter winds were beginning to awake on
the cold summits of the Pyrenees--the division encamped on the heights
above Urdach. Anton then tried his fortunes once more with a hut. But
disaster followed. He writes:--

 "Here I erected a hut, larger than my former one and more
 substantial. Having occupied that which I had left nearly four weeks,
 I considered that, if I were to occupy this the half of that time,
 I should be satisfied in bestowing more labour on it, and making
 my accommodation more complete; but rain continued to fall for two
 days in succession, and placed us in a very unpleasant situation. I
 had cut a trench round the outside of my hut so as to carry off the
 torrents which rushed against it from the declivities above, and my
 poor wife was no less busily employed in securing the few articles
 within.

 "When the weather cleared I set about re-thatching my new habitation,
 but the first night after I had finished my work a violent gale
 struck every tent in the camp, and swept my little hut completely
 off. I had thrown my blanket over it and fixed it down with cords
 and pegs, on purpose to secure the thatch; having thus secured the
 roof, or I may rather say my hut, for it was all roof and ends,
 we stretched ourselves down, and the roaring of the wind in a few
 minutes lulled us to sleep, for we felt confident of having made all
 secure.

 "Our repose, however, was short; we were awakened by the feeble
 branches which composed the rafters falling on our heads, and, on
 looking up, no roof sheltered us from the blast. The stars shone
 brightly between the flying clouds, and the busy hum of a thousand
 voices rose on the wind as the men strove to re-pitch the fallen
 tents. We started to secure the few loose articles around us; we
 looked for our blanket, but it was gone with the thatch and several
 minor articles that were no more to be seen. The men lay close under
 the fallen, fluttering tents, whilst I and my trembling companion
 found shelter in the lee of a rock, until morning roused every
 soldier to arms.

 "My wife in the meantime nastily collected a few of the scattered
 branches of the hut, and huddled them together, so as to cover an
 umbrella, which served as a ceiling to the thatchless roof, until I
 should return from duty and construct a more substantial dwelling.
 Our loss, trifling as it may seem, was the more severely felt as
 there was no opportunity of replacing it by any fair means of
 purchase. Our day's provisions were among the articles missing, and
 this was far from being a comfortable lookout for the day, as I had
 to mount the advance picket that morning: however, we had a little
 money, and, scarce as bread was, it was to be had for a good price.

 "The advance picket was more than two miles from the camp, and as I
 had not taken any provisions with me for the day, my wife bought a
 small loaf and a little wine; this last she mulled and mixed with
 some of the bread, and was bringing it to me, but in her too great
 anxiety to reach me soon, by short roads, she slipped on one of the
 steep banks and rolled down a considerable declivity. Fortunately,
 she was not hurt, but heartily vexed at her own mishap, returned to
 the camp, made a fresh purchase, and again hastened to me. The tear
 was in her eye as she related the misfortunes of the day, but she
 returned to camp gratified at having provided me with an unexpected
 and comfortable refreshment.

 "I speak not of these casualties as sufferings on my part, for there
 were many worse off than I; but I point them out as some of the
 privations to which the poor women following the army had to submit,
 and which many of them were ill able to endure, and received but
 little sympathy from their husbands while patiently bearing them."

Perseverance is a Scottish virtue, and Anton, with the industry of
a Robinson Crusoe in kilts, set to work to invent a third hut. It
represented a gallant but melancholy attempt to secure the comforts of
domestic life amid the severities of war:--

 "I set about constructing a hut that should be proof against wind
 and rain. One of my officers (Lieutenant D. Farquharson) very kindly
 made an offer of any pecuniary assistance I might require, and gave
 me a blanket to replace that which was lost. The latter I accepted
 gratefully, it was more than money could purchase; the former I
 declined, as I was far from being in want.

 "I now became a complete Robinson Crusoe in my daily labour, when
 regimental duties permitted; and much I owe in gratitude to the
 memory of those who then superintended those duties for the indulgent
 manner in which I was treated, and not being troubled with vexatious
 interruptions to draw me off from my domestic avocations. They are
 now no more; they have fallen on the battle-field of a foreign
 land. A few men willingly afforded me every assistance; their only
 recompense being a small drop of spirits, which my wife had carefully
 reserved from my daily allowance. The wood was at no great distance,
 and the face of the hills was covered with broad ferns, which served
 for thatch.

 "I now laboured hard for three days, and every spare hour, when off
 duty, was dedicated to the rendering of my hut proof against the
 weather. My friend Fraser gave me the use of the intrenching tools,
 and I dug an ample space within, three feet deep, and a trench around
 the outside, four feet deep; this was to carry off the water from the
 roof, and the latter I secured more substantially than many of our
 Highland bothies are in the north of Scotland, or than the cabins
 in the remote districts of Ireland. We were enjoying the comfort of
 its nightly shelter, and I was adding something daily towards its
 stability for upwards of two weeks; at last I constructed a fireplace
 under the roof, and one of the men had brought a bundle of sticks for
 fuel, and the fire was lighted for the first time.

 "I was sitting on my knapsack taking a late dinner, quite at home,
 with the dish on my knee, for I had no table, when the drum beat
 'Orders.' I set down my dish (a wooden canteen, the one end of which
 was taken out) unfinished, attended the call, and with no small
 regret heard that the camp was to be struck, and everything ready
 to be moved off that night (November 9, 1813). I cannot express how
 vexed I was to leave my little habitation, my sole property, which I
 held by military right; but I was bound to follow my feudal superior.
 I had reared it at the expense of a blister on every finger, and I
 exulted as much over it, in secret, as the rich man in the Gospel did
 over his extensive possessions and his plentiful stores. On leaving
 the camp that night, many of the married people set fire to their
 huts, but I left mine with too much regret to become its incendiary;
 and my poor Mary shed tears as she looked back upon it, as a bower of
 happiness which she was leaving behind."

What the poor soldier's wife felt as she hung in the rear of the
fighting line and watched the drifting smoke, pierced with gleams of
red flame, where her husband stood to shoot and to be shot at; or
with what emotion she scrutinised the figure of each wounded soldier
limping, or being carried, to the rear cannot be guessed; and Anton
does not stop to tell. Perhaps he had not imagination enough to
understand any such emotions in his wife's bosom. Nothing, indeed,
is more wonderful than the unconquerable cheerfulness Anton shows,
as a husband, under all conditions; and if his wife ever grumbled,
Anton does not allow her complaints to become audible to us. After the
passage of the Nivelle the regiment encamped on the actual scene of the
fighting. Says Anton:--

 "We bivouacked on the field until morning, and fortunately for us
 the night was fair, though cold and frosty. This was the first
 night on which my wife and I had to lie down with no other covering
 than a blanket between us and the sky, but we had many worse nights
 than this afterwards, and worse fields before us; however, on
 looking around, we generally saw many worse off than ourselves;
 and, doubtless, were we always to look into others' misfortunes or
 sufferings, when we suffer ourselves, we would find some cause for
 self-congratulation amidst the most distressing hardships."

It would be interesting to know whether Mrs. Anton shared her husband's
stubborn Scottish philosophy. But she is the inarticulate figure of the
two. Her notes on her husband's memoirs would be very interesting; but,
unfortunately, they are not handed down to us. Occasional glimpses are
afforded us of the experience of other wives whose husbands probably
had less of resource and address than Anton. Here is another picture of
a woman's experiences in a campaign:--

 "In the neighbourhood of our bivouac were a few straggling houses, in
 which some staff officers took up their quarters, and our guard was
 posted under the leafless branches of a chestnut tree in the close
 vicinity. The sergeant of our guard, being a married man, considered
 himself very fortunate in having secured a small pig-sty near his
 post for his wife's accommodation, and the poor woman felt happy in
 the possession, small as it was; for its roof was a shelter from the
 wintry blasts, and its contiguity to the guard left no room to fear
 danger, were she permitted to keep possession; however, this was not
 to be the case.

 "Our adjutant's clerk, who had never occasion to approach the field
 in time of danger, had taken up his quarters in one of the adjoining
 houses, after the action ceased, but, being dispossessed by some
 superiors, and every other place preoccupied by soldiers who would
 not suffer his intrusion, he meanly invaded the miserable shelter
 selected for the poor woman. In vain she remonstrated with him, in
 vain she requested him with tears to allow her the sole possession of
 a place so unfit for his accommodation, and which she had laboured
 hard to clean out for her own; but to no purpose, she might remain
 if she pleased, but he should not depart. It is doubtful whether
 we had a woman in the regiment so regardless of her character as
 to have taken a night's shelter, in the absence of her husband,
 otherwise than with the crowd, where no advantage could be taken of
 her situation or weakness; but every man acted towards a modest woman
 with that kindness which he would towards a sister. Indeed, we had
 women in the regiment that, if they had been in possession, would
 have kept him out and put him at defiance to enter, but this one was
 not possessed of that masculine boldness; she therefore bundled up
 her few articles, and, hastening across the road, the only distance
 by which she had been separated from her husband, threw herself in
 his arms and burst into tears.

 "Three months only had elapsed since this couple joined the regiment.
 She was a comely, modest, interesting young woman, and always
 unassumingly but cleanly and decently dressed. But allowing that
 she had had but few or no accomplishments or amiable qualifications
 to recommend her to sympathy, it is but natural to think that
 whatever distressed her affected the husband. They had as yet seen or
 experienced but little of the petulant intrusions or consequential
 presumptuous ill-manners to which soldiers and their wives are
 sometimes obliged to submit without remonstrance. 'What is the
 matter with you, dear?' the sergeant asked, somewhat astonished at
 her unexpected appearance. 'Oh!' she exclaimed, 'I've been turned
 out o' yon bit placey that I was in, an' I'm come to stop wi' you a'
 night.' 'Who turned you out?' the sergeant hastily inquired. 'Oh,
 say naething about it, I'll be as well here wi' you as I would ha'e
 been yonder by mysel'; let us mak' no disagreement about the matter
 wi' them that we canna shake oursel's free o'; let the proud little
 creature keep it to himsel' in quietness; we are strangers as yet, so
 dinna let angry words be heard.' 'But what creature turned you out?
 surely it was not a man.' 'Ay, he thinks himsel' ane;' she whispered,
 'It was G--t.' 'Is it possible,' said the sergeant, 'that a married
 man can be possessed of so little feeling as to turn you out to the
 inclemency of the night, and neither his wife nor child accompanying
 him to plead for the accommodation?' 'I am happier with you,' she
 replied, 'than if I had lain all night in yon hole; but, dear, oh,
 dear, how hard it rains; the fire will be drowned out, an' we'll be
 starved to death before mornin'.'

 "'Poor body!' the sergeant ejaculated, as he wrapped the blanket
 round her shoulders, 'I'll soon make a good fire; sit you under that
 branch of the tree, the reek will annoy you less, and the drops will
 not fall so thick nor so heavy.' 'I'm well enough,' she returned,
 'and I care na' for the reek or the rain when wi' you; but dinna min'
 the fire till this heavy dag's o'er, ye'll get yoursel' a' wet.' The
 sergeant threw a faggot of wood on the fire, and in a short time
 nothing was heard but the rattling of rain and hailstones, the
 braying of mules, and the tinkling of their bells.

 "This was a severe night, the rain poured down in torrents until
 midnight, when it was succeeded by snow, which covered the face of
 the country before daybreak."

It may be suspected that Anton, who is much given to literary
excursions and alarums, has infused a little of what he regarded as
appropriate pathos into this scene. Nevertheless, it is a picture with
real human interest.

Here are some additional examples of what the soldiers' wives in
Wellington's campaign suffered. The troops had to ford the Adour,
whose ice-fed and ice-cold waters were swollen with winter rains. Says
Anton:--

 "In passing through, the men supported each other as well as they
 could, so as to prevent them falling, for the stones in the bottom
 were very slippery. The wife of a sergeant of one of the regiments
 attempted to pass on a donkey with a child in her arms, and owing to
 some sudden stumble or slip of the animal, the child gave a start and
 dropped into the stream; the distracted mother gave a shriek, leaped
 after the infant, and both were swept off by the rapid current in
 the presence of the husband, who plunged into the water in hopes to
 recover them, but they were gone for ever, and he himself was with
 difficulty rescued. After this accident, the women who were following
 the army remained until the bridge was so far repaired as to enable
 them to pass over."

Anton's own wife had an unfortunate experience on the Adour:--

 "After having crossed the river, we marched a few miles up the
 right bank, or contiguous thereto, on the main road, and took up
 our camp-ground for the night in a newly-ploughed field, rendered
 a complete mire by the rain and hail which fell upon us with
 dreadful fury as we were piling our arms on the broken ridges. Yet,
 notwithstanding the severity of this headlong torrent, a hundred
 fires were blazing in a few minutes along the side of the fences that
 bordered the fields. Fortunately for us, General Pack had taken up
 his quarters in the farmhouse adjoining, and allowed straw, of which
 there was abundance, to be taken for the bottom of the tents; this
 was an unexpected indulgence, even although the straw was rather wet.

 "I was General Pack's orderly this night, and had a good roof over
 my head, and the dry floor of a cartshed, with plenty of dry straw
 for a bed; but my poor wife was absent, for the first time since we
 left home. She was detained, along with several other women, on the
 right bank of the Adour, until the bridge was repaired. While this
 was doing, one of the women belonging to the regiment begged her to
 take charge of a little ass-colt with a couple of bundles, until she
 should go back to St. Severe to make some purchases; she complied,
 and before the other returned, the bridge was repaired. One regiment
 had passed, and she followed, driving the colt before her; but before
 she got to the farther end, the stubborn animal stood still and would
 not move a foot. Another regiment was advancing, the passage was
 impeded, and what to do she knew not.

 "She was in the act of removing the woman's bundles from the beast's
 back, and struggling to get out of the way, determined to leave the
 animal, when a grenadier of the advancing regiment, casting his eye
 on a finely-polished horn with the masonic arms cut on it, and slung
 over her shoulder, stepped aside, saying, 'Poor creature, I shall not
 see you left struggling there, for the sake of what is slung by your
 side.' At the same time, handing his musket to one of his comrades,
 he lifted the colt in his arms and carried it to the end of the
 bridge. My poor wife thanked him with the tear in her eye, the only
 acknowledgment she could make for his kindness."

In the fighting at Toulouse, one of the married men in the regiment was
killed, and Anton gives a somewhat laboured, but touching, account of
the grief of the soldier's widow:--

      *       *       *       *       *

 "Here fell Cunningham, a corporal in the grenadier company, a man
 much esteemed in the regiment; he was a married man, but young, and
 was interred before his wife entered the dear-bought field; but
 she had heard of his fate, and flew, in spite of every opposition,
 to the field; she looked around among the yet unburied soldiers to
 find her own, but she found him not. She flew to the place where the
 wreck of the regiment lay on the field. 'Tell me,' she asked, 'where
 Cunningham is laid, that I may see him and lay him in the grave with
 my own hand!' A tear rose in the soldier's eye as he pointed towards
 the place, and twenty men started up to accompany her to the spot,
 for they respected the man and esteemed the woman.

 "They lifted the corpse; the wounds were in his breast; she washed
 them, and pressing his cold lips to hers, wept over him, wrapped
 the body in a blanket, and the soldiers consigned it to the grave.
 Mournful she stood over the spot where her husband was laid, the
 earth was again closed over him, and she now stood a lonely,
 unprotected being, far from her country or the home of her childhood.
 I should not, perhaps, say unprotected, for, however callous our
 feelings may occasionally be, amidst a thousand distressing objects
 that surround us, any one of which, if individually presented to
 our consideration at any other time or place than the battle-field,
 would excite our sympathy, yet amidst all these neither the widow
 nor the orphan is left unregarded, or in some measure unprovided
 for. In this instance, the officer who commanded the company to
 which Cunningham belonged, having been severely wounded, sent for
 the widow; she became his sick-nurse, and under his protection was
 restored in decent respectability to her home.

 "The only protection a poor soldier can offer to a woman, suddenly
 bereft of her husband, far from her kinsfolk, and without a residence
 or home, would, under more favourable circumstances, be considered as
 an insult, and perhaps under these, from the pressure of grief that
 actually weighs her down, be extremely indelicate.

 "I make free to offer this remark, in justification of many a
 good woman, who, in a few months, perhaps weeks, after her sudden
 bereavement, becomes the wife of a second husband; and, although
 slightingly spoken of by some of little feeling, in and out of the
 army, yet this is, perhaps, the only alternative to save a lone,
 innocent woman's reputation; and the soldier who offers himself may
 be as little inclined to the connection through any selfish motive
 as the woman may be from any desire of his love, but the peculiar
 situation in which she is placed renders it necessary, without
 consulting false feelings, or regarding the idle remarks that may be
 made, to feel grateful for a protector, and in a soldier, the most
 binding is the surest."




CHAPTER II

FIGHTING IN THE PYRENEES


Anton's own adventures in the Peninsula were brief, but of a stern
and exciting quality. His regiment embarked on August 17, 1813, and
thus reached Spain when the war had come to its latest stage--on the
rough and hilly floor of the Pyrenees. The 42nd landed at Passages on
September 7. The first sound of war which reached its ears was the
sullen and distant boom of the guns thundering on San Sebastian. Anton
had an eye for the picturesque, and he gives some interesting pictures
of the scenery of the Pyrenees. Here is his description of a scene
which met his eyes one daybreak shortly after landing:--

 "The view from the summits of these mountains at that early hour,
 when the sun began to gild their tops, and to throw his cheering rays
 on the white canvas which speckled their sides, was grand beyond
 description. The valleys below were hidden under an ocean of white,
 wreathing mist, over which the hills, like a thousand islands,
 raised their rocky summits amidst the pure serenity of a cloudless
 atmosphere; the white tents of a British army spotted their sides,
 while ten thousand bayonets glittered around. The drums, fifes,
 bugles, and wild, warlike strains of the Highland bag-pipe, drowned
 the notes of a hundred useless instruments that offered their softer
 sounds to the soldiers' ears. Flocks of vultures hovered around to
 feed on the bodies of men who had fallen in sequestered spots by the
 hostile bullet, and were left to wolves and birds of prey, along with
 the carcasses of the exhausted animals that had failed in bearing
 their oppressive burdens to the expectant camp.

 "As the sun rose over the mountains, the misty vapours rolled away,
 and all the vales, woods, streams, and distant cottages appeared to
 view. What a lovely prospect this must have been to the once happy
 native of the soil!"

On October 6 the 42nd had its first near glimpse of mountain fighting,
though the regiment took no actual part in the combat:--

 "On October 6 we advanced towards the heights of Urdach, and
 descended a few paces on the brow of that part of the mountain
 which overlooks the valley of that name and the distant course of
 the Nivelle. A thick cloud hovered beneath us, and hid the country
 from our view. The loud report of guns in the valley shook the hills
 and echoed throughout the dark woody ravines below, while the quick
 rounds of musketry prepared us to expect an order to descend to the
 scene of action. The division stood in columns of brigade, or in
 lines along the mountain paths, as the position could be taken up.

 "We remained upwards of two hours enveloped in the misty clouds,
 every man full of anxiety to view the contest below. At last our
 wishes were gratified; the curtain arose, and the interesting scene
 burst all at once on our view. A far-discerning eye might see the
 skirmishers of both armies approaching close to each other, each man
 with well-directed aim looking along the deadly tube that sent the
 intended messenger of death to the opposing adversary. Vineyards,
 orchards, straggling bushy fences, and streamlets with steep banks
 intersected the country, and afforded occasional cover to both sides,
 as well as a rest to the marksman's musket in taking a deliberate
 aim. The ascent of the cloud, which had hovered beneath us and
 over the combatants, afforded them a view of our columns and lines
 ready to descend, a prospect no less discouraging to the enemy than
 animating to our friends."

Anton's first personal experience in the stirring business of war was
at the passage of the Nivelle. The river, it will be remembered, was
approached by a night march. Anton's account is interesting, though
marred by a laborious attempt at fine writing:--

 "The moon shone in the cloudless vault of heaven as we descended the
 narrow paths of the mountains; behind us were our camp-fires and
 blazing huts, while the ill-clothed and worse-disciplined troops of
 Spain were hurrying up the mountain path to occupy the ground we had
 left. To our right appeared the enemy's watch-fires, blazing brightly
 on the distant brow of one of the diverging ridges that jut out from
 the main body of the Pyrenees, their pickets little dreaming that we
 were worming our way through the intricate windings so near their
 posts, in order to rouse them to work in the morning. On our left
 a deep, woody ravine, with its roaring stream, skirted our path;
 before us the narrow ridge jutted out between two of those ravines,
 in a peninsula form, until its extremity overlooked the valley where
 we had witnessed the contest on October 6. The path led us down by
 many a circuitous and steep descent to the vale of Urdach, which we
 reached by daybreak.

 "We were now approaching the Nivelle, and all its woody margins were
 lined with light troops, our battalions forming in columns about two
 furlongs from the bank of the river: not a musket was yet fired.
 The guns were already posted on all the commanding eminences on the
 left of the river. The generals had given their orders regarding the
 attack about to be made, the movements likely to follow, and their
 aides-de-camp were flying from corps to corps with the preparatory
 directions. No voice was heard, save that of command, until the foot
 of the advanced skirmisher was dipped in the stream; the bullet
 arrests him in his advance, and, as if at the command of some
 necromancer, thick and obscuring clouds rise from bank to bank, from
 eminence to eminence, as the loud thunder of war bursts from ten
 thousand muskets.

 "The river is passed, and the soldiers of France retire or fall
 before their stern invaders. We pass through a wood and come to the
 bottom of a steep hill (the heights of Ainhoe), the face of which
 presents long ridges of formidable breastworks, behind which the
 enemy keeps up a heavy fire of musketry, and fears no danger in the
 security of his cover. On the summit overlooking these works is a
 battery which commands that part of the river within its range.

 "The 11th Regiment was now ordered to ascend and storm those
 breastworks, and never did a regiment perform a task so dangerous,
 so obstructed, and apparently impracticable, with better success or
 in better order. Its line was preserved without a break, not only in
 climbing the hill but in springing over the breastworks, bayoneting
 those that waited its approach, even until it cleared the battery on
 the western summit, where, justly proud of its conquest, it made the
 hills echo to its loud huzzahs.

 "Meantime our regiment advanced more to the right, where, on a gentle
 slope of the hill, stood the huts (the recent camp or quarters)
 of the enemy. Some of those huts caught fire, and, owing to the
 combustible material of which they were constructed, the whole were
 nearly enveloped in one blaze. The position which the enemy had
 occupied in the morning was now in our possession, and the sixth
 division crowned the heights of Ainhoe.

 "The regiment's loss this day did not exceed twenty-seven killed and
 wounded; among the latter were Captain Mungo M'Pherson and Lieutenant
 Kenneth M'Dougall.

 "This was the first engagement I was in, and I considered myself no
 longer a recruit. I had now smelled the enemy's powder, as the old
 soldiers boastingly exclaimed; I had heard his bullets whistling
 past my ears, seen them dropping harmless at my feet, and burrowing
 in the ground. I had observed, during this contest, the men whom I
 knew to be the greatest boasters in the company, men who never ceased
 enlarging on the exploits they had accomplished, the actions they had
 witnessed, or the hardships they had endured, when they had such a
 one as myself to listen to their stories; I observed some of those
 boasters very closely, and I could not help remarking that the men
 who spoke less acted better.

 "It is, perhaps, needless to observe that it is scarcely in the
 power of an individual foot-soldier to perform any enterprising
 feat in the field of action, unless he be on some detached duty in
 front, such as is frequently the case with the skirmishers. If he is
 with the battalion he must keep in his ranks; it is on the united
 movement of the whole body that general success depends; and he that
 rushes forward is equally blamable with him who lags behind, though
 certainly the former may do so with less chance of censure, and no
 dread of shame. A man may drop behind in the field but this is a
 dreadful risk to his reputation, and even attended with immediate
 personal danger, while within the range of shot and shells; and woe
 to the man that does it, whether through fatigue, sudden sickness,
 or fear--let him seek death, and welcome it from the hand of a
 foe, rather than give room for any surmise respecting his courage;
 for when others are boasting of what they have seen, suffered, or
 performed, he must remain in silent mortification.

 "I have seen it frequently remarked, in the periodicals of the time,
 that the loss in killed and wounded was greater than was actually
 acknowledged on our side; that we overrated the enemy's loss, and
 underrated our own; but this is not the case. The loss of the enemy,
 of course, is a guess rather than a certainty, until we become
 possessed of their official returns; but that of our own is never
 underrated. Indeed, a soldier feels a greater pride in boasting of
 his wounds than in trying to conceal them; mere scratches are often
 magnified into wounds, and stated as such in the returns.

 "I never yet, among the many I have seen wounded, knew but one
 individual who kept his wound from being placed on the list; his name
 was Stewart. We were evacuating a redoubt on the heights of Toulouse,
 when a bullet struck him behind, pierced through his cartridge-box,
 cut his clothes, and hit him smartly on the breech. 'I shall give
 that to the rascal again,' he said, as he recovered himself and
 picked up the bullet. 'I shall be ashamed,' he added, 'to let it be
 known that I was struck behind.' Had this bullet struck him on the
 breast or limbs, there would have been one more on our list of that
 day's casualties."

Late in November the army went into cantonments; but on the night of
December 8, the troops were in motion again. Says Anton:--

 "On the night of December 8, our division was under arms in columns
 of brigades until nearly daybreak, the artificers being employed
 in placing a bridge of pontoons over the river, below the town. As
 soon as this was finished, the troops began to pass along, while the
 drummers, left behind, beat the reveille at the usual places. This
 circumstance induced the enemy to conclude that we still occupied our
 quarters, although we were forming our columns silently in their
 neighbourhood, concealed amidst a dense mist. As soon as objects were
 discernible, a signal gun announced our time of advance. A wooden
 bridge still remained over the river at Ustritz, but so far broken
 down by the enemy as to be impassable; the discharge of this gun,
 however, so alarmed the French conscript sentries posted at the end
 of the bridge, on the right bank, that they retired in great haste
 towards the picket to which they belonged, and our artificers lost no
 time in making the necessary repairs for the passage of the troops
 and stores.

 "The greater part of this day's action consisted in skirmishing, in
 which the light infantry companies sustained the principal brunt.
 Towards the close of the day, the enemy retired upon a farmhouse
 situated on a commanding eminence, having some of the adjoining
 fields enclosed by low dry-stone walls and quickset hedges, behind
 which they appeared in considerable force, supported by some
 artillery. In dislodging these troops, Captain George Stewart and
 Lieutenant James Stewart, both of the light company, were killed on
 the spot, and Lieutenant Brander was severely wounded."

A sudden burst of tempestuous weather arrested the movements of the
troops, and the men returned to their camps. Directly the rains ceased,
however, Soult was once more in movement. Swiftly marching to his
right, he threw the whole strength of his army on the British left,
holding the Jean de Luz road. Failing here, he faced about, pushed on
at speed to his left, and leaped on the British right. In the toilsome
marches and bloody combats of these operations, the 42nd had a full
share. Here is a picture by Anton of the fighting near Bayonne:--

 "On the sixth division's attaining the heights overlooking Bayonne,
 its movements were immediately directed to its right, so as to
 support more effectually the left of the second; and Sir Denis Pack
 ordered the 42nd to advance to the main road, by which a brigade of
 the enemy was retiring. Our colonel was as anxious to execute the
 order as the men were proud to have been selected to perform it, but
 he led us into such a brake of furze, thorns, and brambles that it
 would have been impossible to have taken our bare-thighed regiment
 through its impenetrable meshes. The general, observing our painful
 but ineffectual struggling, withdrew us from that spot, and pointed
 to another place by which we should have advanced, and which would
 have been practicable; but by this time the enemy had passed our
 mark, and were descending towards the valley of the Adour, where,
 joined by another brigade, they made a determined stand against the
 92nd Highlanders, that were coming round on the other flank.

 "The ground at that place was intersected with deep drains, loose
 stone walls, and thorn bushes. Here a contest ensued, which cannot be
 described with justice to both parties; perhaps the like seldom or
 never occurred during the war. The enemy, although on their retreat,
 were within a short distance of their own fortified position of
 Bayonne, and in view of their own army and people, from whom praise
 or censure was to be expected; they were also in the animating
 discharge of an urgent duty, namely, that of opposing the invaders
 of their beloved country. Yet, notwithstanding all these stimulants,
 the gallant 92nd bore down every opposition. The guns ceased to play
 upon this spot, so closely were both parties intermixed. Muskets
 were broken, bayonets bent, and stones were thrown with deadly
 vengeance. Victory crowned our native band, but it was dearly bought.
 Fourteen officers, eight sergeants, and 163 rank and file lay killed
 and wounded on the spot, and thrice that number of the enemy were
 scattered in heaps around them.

 "The sun sank over the blue waves of the Bay of Biscay, and darkness
 rested on the fields, before the fire of the skirmishers ceased. Both
 armies, wearied of the struggle, rested on the ground during the
 night, the pickets occupying the dilapidated remains of the houses in
 front; to these the wounded men crawled for shelter, or were carried
 thither if near the spot.

 "The unfortunate men who had fallen in remote places were suffered to
 remain under the inclement sky, until morning brought them relief, or
 death ended their sufferings. The rain poured down heavily during the
 night, and those who had crawled for shelter to the dry ditches along
 the roads or fields breathed their last beneath the gathering floods."

The bitter, incessant rain now drove the army into permanent winter
quarters, and the British troops shivered in their bleak camps from
December 14, 1813, to February 21, 1814. On the latter date camps were
broken up, and the campaign of 1814 began. Anton's account of the first
great fight of that campaign--Orthez--is naturally concerned only in
the doings of his own regiment:--

 "On the afternoon of the 25th we were ordered to halt, just as we
 were about to ford the Gave, below a large farmhouse, where the river
 is fordable, but was said to have been set with spikes, so as to form
 an obstruction to our passage. Perhaps there was no truth in this
 report; however, we suddenly retrograded and passed on pontoons, not
 far from a small village, in which we were quartered for the night.
 On the following day we approached the neighbourhood of Orthez, where
 we pitched camp on the south side of the gently rising heights, the
 north side of which forms the left bank of the Pau and overlooks the
 handsome town beyond.

 "An explosion, occasioned by the blowing up of a bridge, excited the
 curiosity of a few to steal up the height, notwithstanding that we
 had been charged against discovering ourselves to the enemy. Others
 followed the example, and as no measures were taken, or perhaps were
 necessary, to prevent it, the men indulged themselves with a view
 of Orthez, the beautiful valley, with the Pau stealing softly along
 its south side, while the long range of mountain heights bounding
 it on the north rose abruptly over the road leading from Bayonne
 and Peyrehorade. Many a man gazed on that mountain range who little
 thought that before to-morrow's sun should go down, he would be
 stretched upon it a lifeless corpse."

Orthez was, in many respects, a memorable fight. Soult was superior in
numbers, held an almost impregnable position, fought with great skill,
and for one delusive golden moment believed he had beaten Wellington!
As he saw the British columns which had attacked both his right and
left flanks reeling back, broken and disordered, it is said that he
smote his thigh and exclaimed with excitement, "At last I have them!"
The battle was won by the obstinate valour of the British soldiers,
especially of the immortal Light Division and the swiftness of
Wellington's counter-stroke at Soult's centre. Soult's left was covered
by the Pau, and his centre by what seemed to be an impassable marsh.
Two diverging and hilly ridges, thrust out like the horns of a bull,
constituted his right and left flanks.

Beresford's attack on the French right, though urged five times over,
failed. Picton's assault on the horn which formed Soult's left, urged
with equal fire, also failed. Wellington won by sending the Light
Division across the marsh and breaking Soult's centre. The 42nd formed
part of Picton's attacking force, and the onfall of such troops under
such a leader is not easily arrested; but the position held by the
French was practically impregnable. In a private letter Picton wrote:
"We were for nearly two hours exposed to the most continued and severe
cannonade I ever witnessed. One of our 9-pounders had every man killed
by round shot." In Anton's account the fire of this fierce fight is
somehow chilled:--

 "Early on the morning of Sunday, the 27th, we marched down the left
 bank of the Pau, passed over on a pontoon bridge, and directed
 our course upon the main road up the valley towards Orthez. Two
 divisions of the army were already on the road before us. The heights
 on our left appeared to be in the possession of the enemy, and as
 our movements were plainly to attack his centre or his left, which
 was posted in and above the town, corresponding movements became
 necessary on his part, and his ranks were seen advancing along the
 ridge parallel with ours. As the mountain approaches that place
 where the road to St. Severe passes over it from Orthez, there is a
 downward bend of about a mile; it rises, however, to a considerable
 height on the east side of that road, and commands the town and its
 approaches.

 "On our coming near this bending, our brigade was ordered to move to
 its left; several enclosures were in our way, but this was no time
 to respect them, as the enemy was welcoming us with round shot and
 shell. The gardens and nurseries were trodden down in an instant,
 and a forest of bayonets glittered round a small farmhouse that
 overlooked a wooded ravine on the north side.

 "The light companies which had preceded the brigade were keeping up a
 sharp fire upon the enemy's skirmishers, and our Grenadier company
 was ordered to take post along the bank overlooking the ravine, and
 commanding a narrow road below. No place seemed less practicable for
 cavalry to act, but the enemy were determined to make every effort
 to re-establish their lines on the heights from which they had
 been driven by the light troops, and some of their squadrons were
 seen approaching to drive back our advance, which by this time was
 reinforced by the Grenadiers, but the more effectually to repel an
 attack, two additional companies were despatched to reinforce those
 already sent, and these had scarcely been formed when the charge of
 cavalry was announced; it was met and repulsed; men and horses were
 tumbled over the steep bank on the narrow road below, skirting the
 ravine.

 "The gallant young officer who led that charge, passed through the
 ranks like a lion pouncing on his prey, and was made prisoner by
 M'Namara of the Grenadier company. This man, if my memory serve
 me well, gave the horse and sword to one of our captains, who was
 afterwards appointed brevet-major; but poor M'Namara, who was more of
 a soldier than a courtier, rose not to corporal. After this repulse
 of the cavalry, we passed through the ravine, and moved towards the
 road that passes over the bending of the hill. The light infantry
 companies of the brigade, under the command of Major Cowel, were
 skirmishing in front. The major was severely wounded, and carried to
 the rear.

 "The hill rises rather abruptly on the east side of the road, and
 slopes gradually towards the north side, to which our advance was
 directed, in order to turn the enemy's right, which had fallen back
 as we advanced. There is a small village consisting of one street on
 that brow of the hill towards the north, upon which the enemy was
 driven back, and from this kept up a destructive fire of musketry
 from garden walls, windows, and loopholes. Our regiment was ordered
 to drive him from that annoying post, which I may say had now become
 the right of his position. The bearer of this order was Lieutenant
 Innes, who was then acting brigade-major to Sir D. Pack; he preceded
 the regiment, and may be said to have led it on. The word of command
 to advance at the charge was received with loud animating cheers.

 "No movement in the field is made with greater confidence of success
 than that of the charge; it affords little time for thinking,
 while it creates a fearless excitement, and tends to give a fresh
 impulse to the blood of the advancing soldier, rouses his courage,
 strengthens every nerve, and drowns every fear of danger or of death;
 thus emboldened, amidst the deafening shouts that anticipate victory,
 he rushes on and mingles with the flying foe.

 "In an instant the village was in our possession, and the fugitives
 were partly intercepted by the advance of the second division of the
 army, under Lord Hill, which had passed the Pau above Orthez, and was
 now approaching round the east end of the heights.

 "The enemy, thus dispossessed of his last position of any importance,
 commenced a hasty retreat through some enclosed fields and young
 plantations, through which his columns directed their course, until
 impeded by intersecting ditches which induced them to take the main
 road; there the ranks were broken, confusion ensued, and a complete
 rout was the consequence.

 "Fortunately for them the sun was nearly set, and although the
 pursuit continued for several miles, they succeeded in keeping the
 lead, and having reassembled during the night, continued their
 retreat towards the Adour.

 "The loss of the regiment in this battle was four officers, six
 sergeants, and eighty-eight rank and file. We left behind us our
 dead, our dying, and our wounded; the former careless who shut those
 eyes that looked up to heaven from their gory bed, or who should
 consign their naked limbs to a grave in the field of a strange land.
 Night suspended hostilities, and the army bivouacked in columns on
 the fields bordering the road leading to St. Severe.

 "Night after a battle is always glorious to the undisputed victors;
 they draw close to one another to hear and tell of the hazards of
 the day, while some show the petty prizes snatched off the field,
 and curse some inter-meddling satrap that would not let them linger
 behind to get a better. The batmen and baggage-guard join the jocund
 circles round the camp-fires, and exhibit some full canteens of
 wine, the hastily snatched spoil of the day, or the plunder of some
 poultry-house, baker's oven, or farmer's pantry, no less acceptable
 to men long used to mouldy ship biscuit and scanty fare than silver
 or gold would have been to those who experienced no want.

 "Midnight shuts our eyes in welcome slumber, and nought is heard
 to break the awful stillness that prevails, save the tinkling of
 the mule-bells and the tread of a silent soldier round the expiring
 embers of a camp-fire."

The pursuit of the enemy after Orthez witnessed some wild and some
amusing scenes:--

 "On the 28th we advanced on the road leading to St. Severe, our
 cavalry in front pursuing and harassing the enemy's rear, and making
 a number of his stragglers prisoners. Many of these were deeply
 gashed by sabre wounds, and, being unable to get on so fast as the
 escorts urged, they fell down by the roadside faint from loss of
 blood, or panting with thirst, frequently soliciting a little water
 to cool their parched tongues. It is but justice to say that the
 British soldier attended to their appeals and relieved them when in
 his power so to do, and sympathised as much for them as if they had
 never fired a shot at him.

 "We halted this day about three leagues from St. Severe, where the
 road is crossed by a considerable stream. A considerable quantity of
 vine-supporters lay scattered in bundles contiguous to our regiment's
 camp ground, and dry wood being always a desirable article for those
 who had the culinary duties to perform, a general charge was made in
 order to secure a quantity before the other regiments came to the
 knowledge of it.

 "Our colonel had just dismounted, and was about to proceed to a
 farmhouse adjoining to stable his horse, when the sudden rush of the
 men, after having piled their arms and thrown down their knapsacks,
 attracted his attention. He gazed upon them with astonishment,
 hesitated a moment, and asked one of the guard the cause of so sudden
 a movement. This soon discovered itself, for the men were loaded
 with armsful of sticks, and rejoicing over their booty and good
 luck, anticipating the comfortable warmth it would afford during
 the drizzly night. Sir Denis Pack had taken up his quarters in the
 farmhouse, or was supposed to have done so, and nothing was more
 likely than that he would take an interest in protecting the owner's
 property. The colonel, whether in dread of the general, or a mistaken
 sense of justice, called out to the marauders, as he was pleased to
 call them, to carry back their burdens. Some obeyed, others dropped
 them at their feet, and a few less obedient persisted in bringing
 them along; but the whole seemed rather unwilling to comply. The
 colonel, dissatisfied at the apathy displayed in obeying his orders,
 darted among the offenders and personally chastised those who seemed
 the most reluctant to obey.

 "Among the most refractory of those wood foragers were two men of
 singular dispositions; their names were Henderson and Doury. The
 former was a contradictory, obstinate, careless, awkward fellow. His
 visage was long, his lips thick, his mouth always open, and, to use
 a Scotch term, slavering. His feet were flat-soled, without any
 spring, and he marched like a wearied pedlar under a pack, jolting
 along the road. He had not seen much service, but, like many old
 soldiers, he had much to say--he was nicknamed 'the Gomeral.' Doury
 was a silly, good-natured simpleton, the butt of every man's jest,
 yet no jester himself; for, when excited, his utterance failed so far
 that it was little else than a breathless gibbering of inarticulate
 sounds. Such another couple was not in the regiment, or perhaps in
 the brigade, and would not be accepted of for the service in time
 of peace. Those two were bringing in their burdens notwithstanding
 the interdiction, and had entered the field on which the colonel was
 standing. The colonel, observing that Henderson led the other on,
 strode hastily forward to enforce obedience. Doury was the first to
 observe him, fled past his companion, dropped the sticks at his feet,
 and escaped. Not so Henderson: he fell over the bundle dropped at his
 feet, with his face pressed against the soft, miry field; the colonel
 overtook him as he recovered, seized him by the kilt, the pins of
 which yielded to the tug, and left his naked flesh to some merited
 chastisement. This excited bursts of laughter from all the men, and
 the poor fellow afterwards declared that he was more vexed at the
 laughter than hurt by the punishment."

War is a rough school, and under its hard experiences all the finery of
an army quickly vanishes. Colours fade, feathers moult, bright metals
turn rusty, uniforms grow ragged, and the once "smart" army becomes,
from the tailor's point of view, a thing to weep over or to shudder at.
Here is a picture of a gallant army in rags and sandals:--

 "At this time the clothing of the army at large, but the Highland
 brigade in particular, was in a very tattered state. The clothing of
 the 91st Regiment had been two years in wear; the men were thus under
 the necessity of repairing their old garments in the best manner they
 could: some had the elbows of their coats mended with grey cloth,
 others had the one-half of the sleeve of a different colour from the
 body; and their trousers were in equally as bad a condition as their
 coats.

 "The 42nd, which was the only corps in the brigade that wore the
 kilt, was beginning to lose it by degrees; men falling sick and
 left in the rear frequently got the kilt made into trousers, and on
 joining the regiment again no plaid could be furnished to supply
 the loss. Thus a great want of uniformity prevailed; but this was
 of minor importance when compared to the want of shoes. As our
 march continued daily, no time was to be found to repair them until
 completely worn out; this left a number to march with bare feet
 or, as we termed it, to pad the hoof. These men being occasionally
 permitted to straggle out of the ranks to select the soft part of
 the roads or fields adjoining, others who had not the same reason to
 offer for this indulgence followed the example, until each regiment
 marched regardless of keeping in rank, and sometimes mixed with other
 corps in front and rear. To put a stop to this irregularity, the
 men without shoes were formed by themselves and marched, under the
 command of officers and non-commissioned officers, in rear of the
 brigade.

 "It is impossible to describe the painful state that some of those
 shoeless men were in, crippling along the way, their feet cut or
 torn by sharp stones or brambles. To remedy the want of shoes, the
 raw hides of the newly-slaughtered bullocks were given to cut up, on
 purpose to form a sort of buskins for the bare-footed soldiers. This
 served as a substitute for shoes, and enabled the wearers to march in
 the ranks of their respective companies.

 "Our knapsacks were also by this time beginning to display, from
 their torn ends, their worthless contents; and as our line of march
 was in an opposite direction from our expected supplies, our exterior
 appearance was daily getting worse; but the real spirit of the
 soldier was improving, and I make little doubt but we would have
 followed our leaders to the extremity of Europe without grumbling. We
 were getting hardier and stronger every day in person; the more we
 suffered, the more confidence we felt in our strength; all in health,
 and no sickness. The man in patched clothes and a piece of untanned
 hide about his feet, when he looked around him, saw others in some
 respects as ill appointed as himself; and he almost felt a pride in
 despising any new-comer with dangling plumes, plaited or crimped
 frills, white gloves, and handsome shoes--all good-for-nothing
 frippery to the hardy, toil-worn soldier, the man of flint, powder,
 and steel, as he thought himself. His was the gloveless hand and the
 shoeless foot that braved alike the cold and the heat, the toil of
 the field and the fatigue of the march; nothing came wrong to him; he
 started in the morning from his hard pillow and harder bed, required
 no time to blacken his shoes, but braced up his knapsack, regardless
 of the state of the roads or weather, and was ready to march off.

 "I have already mentioned that there was some skirmishing with the
 enemy this day, as we advanced. Here we had three men killed and
 several wounded. One of those who were killed had been doing the duty
 of pioneer previous to this day; doubtless he had considered this a
 degrading duty, and had pressingly requested to be permitted to join
 the ranks. His request was granted; this was his first entry on the
 field since he obtained that indulgence, and here he fell. He lay
 on the field adjoining the road; some one had rifled his knapsack,
 but had thrown the blanket over him. Having the general's baggage
 in charge I was following the brigade with the guard and the mules
 when I observed some soldiers examining to what regiment the killed
 belonged; one bore off the knapsack, but left the blanket carelessly
 cast on the corpse, a batman was making a prize of the blanket, and a
 Portuguese muleteer was about to take off the kilt.

 "I could be at no loss to know to what regiment he belonged, as the
 42nd was the only corps in the division that had that dress, and
 I desired one of the guard to recover the blanket, and to spread
 it over the body, for we had no time to inter it. He sprang on the
 spoilers in an instant, snatched the blanket from the batman, and
 seizing the muleteer rather roughly, tumbled him into the ditch that
 lined the road; then, spreading the blanket over the corpse, left it;
 but doubtless to be soon stripped again. Thus falls the poor soldier."




CHAPTER III

THE HILLSIDE AT TOULOUSE


Anton attempts a more ambitious account of the battle of Toulouse than
of any other fight in which he was engaged; and there is some reason
for this. It was a cluster of Scottish regiments--the 42nd conspicuous
amongst them--which, by mere invincible and all-enduring valour,
saved Wellington from failure in that great fight. Soult, it will be
remembered, knew Toulouse almost with the familiarity of a native. A
strong place by nature, he had made it almost impregnable by the energy
and skill with which he had multiplied its defences during the long
pause before the British advanced.

Wellington delivered his attack at three points. Hill assailed the west
front of the city; Picton the north; Beresford the east. The first
two attacks were, perhaps, not seriously meant, and certainly failed.
Freire, with his Spaniards, whose task it was to carry the northern
shoulder of Mont Rave, fell on gallantly, but was smitten into utter
rout, extorting from Wellington the grim comment, "Well, ---- me, if
ever I saw ten thousand men run a race before!" Beresford's task was
perilous in the highest degree; to any other troops than those he led,
it might well have proved impossible. He had to toil for two miles
along a road which was little better than a strip of marsh, past the
flank of Mont Rave, strongly held by the French. On his left was the
river Ers. The road was so difficult that the guns were left behind.
There was deadly peril at every step that the French might overwhelm
the toiling column with a flank attack; or break through betwixt it and
the main body of the British army.

But Beresford--who had fought Albuera--was exactly the man for a task
which required blind and desperate valour. His men splashed doggedly
on their way; on their right the foe, tormenting their flank with
his fire; the fordless river to their left; their guns left behind
them. When they had reached the southern extremity of the ridge, the
regiments brought up their left shoulder, and proceeded to carry the
hill. It was seamed with trenches, and bristled with guns. Soult,
who saw that this was the one point of peril to his battle-line, had
brought up two divisions to the threatened point, and the French,
gallantly led, and confident in their numbers, in their advantage of
position, and in their success at the other attacked points, came
boldly down the hill to crush Beresford's slender and extended line.

Nothing, however--not the slippery hill-slope, the cruel fire of the
French guns, nor the onfall of the solid French battalions--could stay
Beresford's men. Soult's columns were smashed with rolling musketry
volleys. The batteries were carried with the bayonet, and the hill
was won. The 42nd played a most gallant part in this great fight, and
endured dreadful losses. Anton came through it all untouched, and tells
the whole story in a spirited fashion. He sees nothing, however, and
describes nothing, but what takes place immediately about himself:--

 "We broke up camp a little after midnight, on the morning of Easter
 Sunday, April 10, and marched towards Toulouse. The moon shone bright
 in the unclouded heavens, and reflected a stream of light from the
 muskets of our advanced columns, for our arms had not then received
 the brown varnish that now 'dims their shine.'

 "General Pack's brigade was formed in contiguous columns of regiments
 to the left of the road leading to Toulouse. At this time the
 Spaniards, who were in advance and ascending the heights, were
 attacked with such fury that they gave way in all directions. It
 was apprehended that the enemy would have borne down upon us in
 the impetuosity of the movement, and we deployed into lines. The
 79th Regiment was at this time in front of the 42nd, and General
 Pack, anticipating a charge from the enemy's victorious and elated
 infantry, after thus scattering the Spaniards, gave orders to the
 79th to receive them with a volley, immediately form four deep, face
 about, and pass through the ranks of the 42nd. The latter received
 orders to form four deep, as soon as the former had given its fire;
 let the line pass through, then form up, give a volley, and charge.
 This was providing against what might have taken place, but did not,
 for the enemy was recalled, and the Spaniards were afterwards rallied.

 "We now moved off to our left, along a green embankment, a small
 lake or large pond [really a flooded river] on our left, and a wet
 ditch and marshy meadow on the right. The shot and shell were flying
 over our heads into the lake, but the range was too elevated to
 hurt us, and we ran along the bank until we came to a place where
 we could leap the ditch and form on the swampy ground beyond it. We
 had scarcely formed, when a strong column of the enemy, with drums
 beating a march, descended the hill in our front, and thinking from
 the nature of the ground that we should be neither able to advance
 nor retreat, rushed down confident of success. For us to retire would
 have been scarcely practicable; the bank from which we had leaped
 down and over the ditch was too high in several places for us to
 leap back from such uncertain footing, for we were sinking to the
 ankles, and sometimes deeper at every step; to advance was the only
 alternative, and it was taken.

 "The light companies of the division were by this time in our front,
 and without any hesitation dashed forward; we followed fast, and
 the opposing column reascended the hill, and left us the undisputed
 masters of the valley. We now ascended at double quick time, and the
 whole of the division crowned the eastern summit of the heights.
 Here we were exposed to a destructive fire of round shot, shell,
 grape, and musketry, while we had not as yet got up one gun, owing
 to the numerous obstructions that lay in the way. The ground we
 occupied sloped towards one of the main roads that run over the hill
 to the city, and the fields on the opposite side of the road were in
 possession of the enemy, and extremely broken and intersected by deep
 cross-roads, breastworks, and redoubts, but could, from our present
 position, have been commanded by artillery, had it been practicable
 to bring a few guns forward; but this required some time, and
 indefatigable labour.

 "The light companies of the division advanced beyond the road, and
 maintained a very unequal skirmish with the enemy, who lay securely
 posted behind their breastworks and batteries, and in their redoubts,
 from all of which they took the most deadly aim. The 61st Regiment
 was ordered forward to support the skirmishers, and became the marked
 object of the enemy's batteries, from which incessant showers of
 grape cut down that corps by sections, while Soult was, perhaps, not
 losing a man, being so safely sheltered from our musketry; it was,
 therefore, seen necessary to withdraw the skeleton of that regiment
 to the road, on which we had taken post after its advance. It was now
 warmly welcomed back, for its retreat was no defeat, and its loss was
 scarcely equalled by any corps in the field. Not a subaltern left the
 field without a wound, and the honour of the colours was assigned to
 sergeants.

 "The enemy, emboldened by this momentary success, on his part, began
 to advance towards the road, and our regiment was ordered to advance
 by wings and storm one of the redoubts.

 "Our colonel was a brave man, but there are moments when a well-timed
 manœuvre is of more advantage than courage. The regiment stood on
 the road with its front exactly to the enemy, and if the left wing
 had been ordered forward, it could have sprung up the bank in line
 and dashed forward on the enemy at once. Instead of this, the colonel
 faced the right wing to its right, countermarched in rear of the
 left, and when the leading rank cleared the left flank it was made
 to file up the bank, and as soon as it made its appearance the shot,
 shell, and musketry poured in with deadly destruction; and in this
 exposed position we had to make a second countermarch, on purpose to
 bring our front to the enemy. These movements consumed much time, and
 by this unnecessary exposure exasperated the men to madness.

 "The word 'Forward--double quick!' dispelled the gloom, and forward
 we drove, in the face of apparent destruction. The field had been
 lately rough ploughed or under fallow, and when a man fell he tripped
 the one behind, thus the ranks were opening as we approached the
 point whence all this hostile vengeance proceeded; but the rush
 forward had received an impulse from desperation, 'the spring of
 the men's patience had been strained until ready to snap, and when
 left to the freedom of its own extension, ceased not to act until
 the point to which it was directed was attained.' In a minute
 every obstacle was surmounted; the enemy fled as we leaped over
 the trenches and mounds like a pack of noisy hounds in pursuit,
 frightening them more by our wild hurrahs than actually hurting them
 by ball or bayonet.

 "The redoubt thus obtained consisted of an old country farm cottage,
 the lower part of its walls stone, the upper part mud or clay. It
 stood in the corner of what had been a garden, having one door to a
 road or broad lane, and another to the garden; the whole forming a
 square which had been lately fortified on three sides by a deep but
 dry trench, from which the earth had been cast inwards, and formed a
 considerable bank, sloping inwards, but presenting a perpendicular
 face of layers of green turf outwards. The cottage served as a
 temporary magazine, and the mound or embankment as a cover to the
 enemy from the fire of our troops; and from this place our men had
 been dreadfully cut down.

 "It cannot be for an instant supposed that all this could have been
 effected without very much deranging our ranks, and as the enemy had
 still a powerful force, and other works commanding this, time would
 not permit of particularity, and a brisk independent fire was kept
 up with more noise than good effect by our small groups upon our not
 yet defeated enemy. Our muskets were getting useless by the frequent
 discharges, and several of the men were having recourse to the French
 pieces that lay scattered about, but they had been as freely used
 as our own, and were equally unserviceable. Our number of effective
 hands was also decreasing, and that of the again approaching foe
 seemed irresistible.

 "Two officers (Captain Campbell and Lieutenant Young) and about sixty
 of inferior rank were all that now remained without a wound of the
 right wing of the regiment that entered the field in the morning.
 The flag was hanging in tatters, and stained with the blood of
 those who had fallen over it. The standard cut in two, had been
 successively placed in the hands of three officers, who fell as we
 advanced; it was now borne by a sergeant, while the few remaining
 soldiers who rallied around it, defiled with mire, sweat, smoke, and
 blood, stood ready to oppose with the bayonet the advancing column,
 the front files of which were pouring in destructive showers of
 musketry among our confused ranks. To have disputed the post with
 such overwhelming numbers, would have been the hazarding the loss of
 our colours, and could serve no general interest to our army, as we
 stood between the front of our advancing support and the enemy; we
 were therefore ordered to retire. The greater number passed through
 the cottage, now filled with wounded and dying, and leaped from the
 door that was over the road into the trench of the redoubt, among the
 killed and wounded.

 "We were now between two fires of musketry, the enemy to our left
 and rear, the 79th and left wing of our own regiment in our front.
 Fortunately, the intermediate space did not exceed a hundred paces,
 and our safe retreat depended upon the speed with which we could
 perform it. We rushed along like a crowd of boys pursuing the
 bounding ball to its distant limit, and in an instant plunged into a
 trench that had been cut across the road; the balls were whistling
 amongst us and over us; while those in front were struggling to get
 out, those behind were holding them fast for assistance, and we
 became firmly wedged together, until a horse without a rider came
 plunging down on the heads and bayonets of those in his way; they on
 whom he fell were drowned or smothered, and the gap thus made gave
 way for the rest to get out.

 "The right wing of the regiment, thus broken down and in
 disorder, was rallied by Captain Campbell (afterwards brevet
 lieutenant-colonel) and the adjutant (Lieutenant Young) on a narrow
 road, the steep banks of which served as a cover from the showers of
 grape that swept over our heads.

 "In this contest, besides our colonel, who was wounded as he gave the
 word of command, 'Forward,' the regiment lost, in killed and wounded,
 twenty officers, one sergeant-major, and four hundred and thirty-six
 of inferior rank.

 "Meantime the Portuguese brigade was ordered to take possession of
 the evacuated redoubt, which was accomplished with little loss, for
 the enemy had been backward of entering, lest we might have been
 drawing them into an ambush, or had an intention of blowing up the
 cottage, in which a considerable quantity of loose cartridges had
 been left near a large fire by themselves when they were driven out,
 and most likely intended for that purpose against us, but we had
 removed the whole to a place of less danger.

 "Thus far the left flank of our army was secured; the Spaniards,
 farther to the right, were making good their advances, our artillery
 was about getting posted on commanding eminences, while only one
 battery remained on the western summit in the enemy's possession, and
 before sunset it was stormed also, and all the heights overlooking
 Toulouse remained in our possession."

As soon as the fight is over Anton proceeds to mount the pulpit and
deliver himself of a homily on the night-scene after a battle, which
may be usefully abridged:--

 "Night after battle is always glorious to the undisputed victors, and
 whatever the loss may have been, the idea of it seems to be banished
 from our thoughtless minds. Here, however, by the first early dawning
 of the morning, let us more seriously cast our eye over this scene
 of slaughter, where the blood of the commander and the commanded mix
 indiscriminately together over the field.

 "Here lies many a gallant soldier, whose name or fame will never pass
 to another generation; yet the annals of our country will do justice
 to the general merit of the whole; from my feeble pen no lasting fame
 can be expected; time blots it out as I write; and even were I to
 attempt to pass an eulogy it might be considered contemptible from so
 humble an individual, by those who survive and witnessed the action.

 "I trust I shall not be considered egotistical in saying that I had
 some narrow escapes this day; but what soldier entered the field and
 came safe out of it had not narrow escapes? A musket-ball struck my
 halberd in line with my cheek, another passed between my arm and my
 side, and lodged in my knapsack, another struck the handle of my
 sword, and a fourth passed through my bonnet and knocked it off my
 head; had the ball been two inches lower, or I that much higher, the
 reader would have been saved the trouble of perusing this narrative.
 The company in which I was doing duty lost four officers, three
 sergeants, and forty-seven rank and file, in killed and wounded. The
 officers were:--Lieutenant D. M'Kenzie severely wounded, Lieutenants
 Farquharson and Watson mortally wounded, and Ensign Latta killed.

 "There was one officer of the regiment taken prisoner this day: he
 had lately joined us from the 1st Royals, in which he had been cadet,
 and had not the uniform of the regiment; but his deficiency of the
 uniform betrayed no lack of personal courage; the charm of the bonnet
 and plume, though wanting, did not make him less the soldier; he
 fell, wounded, near to Lieutenant Farquharson, at the side of the
 redoubt, as we entered it, and when we fell back he was made prisoner.

 "I have already mentioned that before the regiment advanced to storm
 the redoubt, we were posted on the main road that passes over the
 heights. During the short time we were in that position we had orders
 not to raise our heads above the bank, nor let the enemy see where
 we were posted. Notwithstanding this prohibition, our sergeant-major,
 as brave a man as ever entered a field, was despatched from the
 right flank to warn those on the left to comply with this order,
 for several were rising up occasionally and sending a bullet at the
 enemy, and thus, perhaps, defeating the intention of the order. He
 went, but though cautioned to stoop as he proceeded, he considered
 this unmanly, and never did he walk with a more upright dauntless
 carriage of the body or a firmer step: it was his last march; a
 bullet pierced his brain and stretched him lifeless, without a sigh.

 "There was a man of the name of Wighton in the regiment, a grumbling,
 discontented, disaffected sort of a character. He was one of the
 men attached to the tent placed under my charge on joining the
 regiment. Some men take all for the best; not so with Wighton, he
 took everything for the worst; indeed, his very countenance indicated
 something malignant, misanthropical, and even sottish in his
 disposition. He was a low, thick, squat fellow, with a dark yellowish
 swarthy complexion, and his broad face bore a strong resemblance to
 that of a Calmuc Tartar. As he rushed along the field his front-rank
 man exclaimed, 'God Almighty preserve us, this is dreadful!' 'You be
 d--d,' Wighton replied, 'you have been importuning God Almighty this
 half-dozen of years, and it would be no wonder although He were to
 knock you down at last for troubling him so often; as for myself,
 I do not believe there is one; if there were, He would never have
 brought us here!' The last word hung unfinished on his tongue; the
 messenger of death sealed his lips in everlasting silence.

 "The contest that raged upwards of an hour around the redoubt, of
 which we had gained possession, was maintained without much regard
 to order or strict discipline; in short, it was rather tumultuary.
 Every man was sensible of the necessity of having order restored,
 but thought himself the only orderly man of all the rest, and his
 voice was heard over that of his commander calling out 'Form up.' In
 the meantime, his own attention was more engaged in keeping in the
 crowd, to load his piece, and afterwards pushing forward, to send a
 bullet to the enemy as often as he possibly could load and discharge,
 than attending to formation.

 "A Grenadier of the 79th Regiment, for both regiments (the 42nd
 and 79th) were somewhat intermixed, rushed forward, discharged his
 piece with effect, and suddenly turning the musket so as to grasp
 the muzzle, dealt deadly blows around him; he fell, grasping one of
 the enemy in one hand, and the broken firelock in the other. Another
 sprung up on the top of the bank, called on his comrades to follow,
 and with a loud cheer, in which many joined that did not follow, he
 rushed forward in the same manner as his brave companion had done,
 and like him shared a similar fate.

 "It is only in this disorganised kind of conflict that individual
 courage may best act and best be seen. In united, orderly movements,
 the whole acquires the praise; and in this each individual is
 comprised, and proud of contributing his part to the honour of his
 corps, does his duty without attempting those feats of romantic
 daring which ancient historians record, but which modern tactics
 render nugatory or almost useless. Individual daring is lost in
 orderly movements."




CHAPTER IV

THE 42ND AT QUATRE BRAS


The return of Napoleon from Elba found the 42nd on duty in Ireland.
But when Great Britain was pouring her choicest troops into the
Netherlands, in readiness for the last great struggle, so famous a
regiment as the 42nd could not be left behind. The regiment embarked
at Cork on May 4, 1815, for Ostend, and thence marched in leisurely
fashion to Brussels.

Anton discovers quite a new justification for the Duchess of Richmond's
famous ball, which will live in history longer than any other ball at
which men and maidens ever danced. He says:--

 "On the night of June 15, we were roused from our peaceful slumbers
 by the sounding of bugles, the rolling of drums, and the loud notes
 of our Highland bagpipes, which threw their wild, warlike strains
 on the midnight breeze, to awaken the plaided sons of Caledonia to
 arms. Until daybreak of the 16th we stood to our arms on the streets
 of Brussels, and here we were served out with four days' provisions
 for each man. The grand ball was broken up, and our Highland dancers,
 who had been invited to display their active movements before the
 assembled lords, ladies, and military chieftains, were sent to their
 respective regiments to prepare for other sport--that of glorious
 battle.

 "I have heard some passing animadversions upon our great commander,
 for thus passing away time upon the eve of so momentous an affair
 as that about to take place. I think, as a soldier, and one who was
 on the spot, I have as good a right to give my opinion concerning it
 as any of those croaking politicians who were hundreds of miles from
 the scene of operations; and in giving my opinion, I give it as that
 of every soldier who was in Brussels at the time, and I believe we
 are not the worst judges of what is most likely to forward a ready
 assembling, or a speedy concentration of the troops, in order to
 attain the end in view.

 "Owing to this general assembly of all our principal officers, the
 Duke had not only all his personal staff about him, but that of
 the generals under his command. They, again, had around them all
 the commanding officers of corps, to whom they could personally
 communicate their orders. The unusually late hour at which the
 despatches from the scene of hostilities had arrived, and the
 information respecting the intended movements of our allies, in
 consequence of their having unexpectedly had to retreat from the
 bravely contested field, might have changed all our commander's
 plans. If this should have been the case, he had all those about him
 to whom he could communicate his designs, without passing hours at
 the desk, and sending orderlies off to the quarters of officers in a
 city, the language of whose inhabitants was foreign to us. All this
 trouble, happily for us and for Britain, was saved by this fortunate
 ball."

Quatre Bras was not the least perilous of Wellington's battles. Ney's
onfall took the Iron Duke by surprise, and that Quatre Bras was not
a British defeat was due as much to Ney's blunders in attack as to
Wellington's fine skill in defence, and to the magnificent courage
of his troops. Ney could, with ease, have thrown 40,000 men into the
fight. Wellington, at the beginning of the battle, had in hand only
7000 Dutch-Belgian troops, with seventeen guns. Picton's division only
reached the field in the afternoon, having started on their long march
from Brussels at five o'clock in the morning. Later, reinforcements
came trickling in, till, just as night was darkening, the Guards
reached the scene of action.

But the British came up in fragments, and at remote intervals of time.
Wellington had very inefficient artillery, and no horsemen; and a fight
under such conditions might well have gone wrong. Fortunately, Ney left
half his forces out of the fight, and attacked with 20,000 instead of
overwhelming the British with 40,000.

The Highland regiments formed Pack's brigade. They came up almost
exhausted with their long march, and were flung hurriedly into the
strife. The 42nd, in particular, fared very badly. In the whirl and
passion of the fight it changed commanders no less than four times in
little more than as many minutes. But disaster itself could hardly
shake the ranks of the veterans of the Peninsula. Here is Anton's
description of Quatre Bras. It gives a most spirited account of the
struggle betwixt horsemen and infantry:--

 "On the morning of June 16, before the sun rose over the dark forest
 of Soignes, our brigade, consisting of the 1st, 44th, and 92nd
 Regiments, stood in column, Sir Denis Pack at its head, waiting
 impatiently for the 42nd, the commanding officer of which was chidden
 severely by Sir Denis for being so dilatory. We took our place in the
 column, and the whole marched off to the strains of martial music,
 and amidst the shouts of the surrounding multitude. We passed through
 the ancient gate of the city, and hundreds left it in health and high
 spirits who before night were lifeless corpses on the field to which
 they were hastening.

 "As we entered the forest of Soignes, our stream of ranks following
 ranks, in successive sections, moved on in silent but speedy course,
 like some river confined between two equal banks. The forest is of
 immense extent, and we continued to move on under its welcome shade
 until we came to a small hamlet, or auberge, embosomed in the wood to
 the right of the road. Here we turned to our left, halted, and were
 in the act of lighting fires on purpose to set about cooking. We were
 flattering ourselves that we were to rest there until next day; for
 whatever reports had reached the ears of our commanders, no alarm had
 yet rung on ours. Some were stretched under the shade to rest; others
 sat in groups draining the cup, and we always loved a large one,
 and it was now almost emptied of three days' allowance of spirits,
 a greater quantity than was usually served out at once to us on a
 campaign; others were busily occupied in bringing water and preparing
 the camp-kettles, for we were of the opinion, as I have already said,
 that we were to halt there for the day.

 "But, 'Hark! a gun!' one exclaims; every ear is set to catch the
 sound, and every mouth seems half opened, as if to supersede the
 faithless ear that doubts of hearing. Again another and another
 feebly floats through the forest. Every ear now catches the sound,
 and every man grasps his musket. The distant report of the guns
 becomes more loud, and our march is urged on with greater speed.
 Quatre Bras appears in view; the frightened peasantry come running
 breathless and panting along the way. We move on to the left of the
 road, behind a gently rising eminence, form column of companies,
 regardless of the growing crop, and ascend the rising ground; a
 beautiful plain appears in view, surrounded with belts of wood, and
 the main road from Brussels runs through it.

 "We now descended to the plain by an echelon movement towards our
 right, halted on the road (from which we had lately diverged to the
 left), formed in line, fronting a bank on the right side, whilst
 the other regiments took up their position to right and left, as
 directed by our general. A luxuriant crop of grain hid from our view
 the contending skirmishers beyond, and presented a considerable
 obstacle to our advance. We were in the act of lying down by the
 side of the road, in our usual careless manner, as we were wont when
 enjoying a rest on the line of march, some throwing back their heads
 on their knapsacks, intending to take a sleep, when General Pack came
 galloping up, and chid the colonel for not having the bayonets fixed.
 This roused our attention, and the bayonets were instantly on the
 pieces.

 "There is something animating to a soldier in the clash of the fixing
 bayonet; more particularly so when it is thought that the scabbard is
 not to receive it until it drinks the blood of its foe.

 "Our pieces were loaded, and perhaps never did a regiment in the
 field seem so short taken. We were all ready and in line--'Forward!'
 was the word of command, and forward we hastened, though we saw no
 enemy in front. The stalks of the rye, like the reeds that grow on
 the margin of some swamp, opposed our advance; the tops were up to
 our bonnets, and we strode and groped our way through as fast as we
 could. By the time we reached a field of clover on the other side we
 were very much straggled; however, we united in line as fast as time
 and our speedy advance would permit. The Belgic skirmishers retired
 through our ranks, and in an instant we were on their victorious
 pursuers.

 "Our sudden appearance seemed to paralyse their advance. The singular
 appearance of our dress, combined, no doubt, with our sudden début,
 tended to stagger their resolution: we were on them, our pieces were
 loaded, and our bayonets glittered, impatient to drink their blood.
 Those who had so proudly driven the Belgians before them, turned
 now to fly, whilst our loud cheers made the fields echo to our wild
 hurrahs.

 "We drove on so fast that we almost appeared like a mob following
 the rout of some defeated faction. Marshal Ney, who commanded the
 enemy, observed our wild unguarded zeal, and ordered a regiment of
 lancers to bear down upon us. We saw their approach at a distance,
 as they issued from a wood, and took them for Brunswickers coming
 to cut up the flying infantry; and as cavalry on all occasions have
 the advantage of retreating foot, on a fair field, we were halted in
 order to let them take their way; they were approaching our right
 flank, from which our skirmishers were extended, and we were far
 from being in a formation fit to repel an attack, if intended, or to
 afford regular support to our friends if requiring our aid. I think
 we stood with too much confidence, gazing towards them as if they had
 been our friends, anticipating the gallant charge they would make on
 the flying foe, and we were making no preparative movement to receive
 them as enemies, further than the reloading of the muskets, until a
 German orderly dragoon galloped up, exclaiming, 'Franchee! Franchee!'
 and, wheeling about, galloped off.

 "We instantly formed a rallying square; no time for particularity;
 every man's piece was loaded, and our enemies approached at full
 charge; the feet of their horses seemed to tear up the ground. Our
 skirmishers having been impressed with the same opinion that these
 were Brunswick cavalry, fell beneath their lances, and few escaped
 death or wounds; our brave colonel fell at this time, pierced through
 the chin until the point of the lance reached the brain. Captain
 (now Major) Menzies fell, covered with wounds, and a momentary
 conflict took place over him; he was a powerful man, and, hand to
 hand, more than a match for six ordinary men. The Grenadiers, whom he
 commanded, pressed round to save or avenge him, but fell beneath the
 enemies' lances.

 "Of all descriptions of cavalry, certainly the lancers seem the
 most formidable to infantry, as the lance can be projected with
 considerable precision, and with deadly effect, without bringing the
 horse to the point of the bayonet; and it was only by the rapid and
 well-directed fire of musketry that these formidable assailants were
 repulsed.

 "Colonel Dick [who afterwards fell at Sobraon] assumed the command on
 the fall of Sir Robert Macara, and was severely wounded. Brevet-Major
 Davidson succeeded, and was mortally wounded; to him succeeded
 Brevet-Major Campbell (now lieutenant-colonel on the unattached
 list). Thus, in a few minutes, we had been placed under four
 different commanding officers.

 "An attempt was now made to form us in line; for we stood mixed in
 one irregular mass--grenadier, light, and battalion companies--a
 noisy group; such is the inevitable consequence of a rapid succession
 of commanders. Our covering sergeants were called out on purpose that
 each company might form on the right of its sergeant; an excellent
 plan had it been adopted, but a cry arose that another charge of
 cavalry was approaching, and this plan was abandoned. We now formed
 a line on the left of the Grenadiers, while the cavalry that had
 been announced were cutting through the ranks of the 69th Regiment.
 Meantime the other regiments to our right and left, suffered no
 less than we; the superiority of the enemy in cavalry afforded him
 a decided advantage on the open plain, for our British cavalry and
 artillery had not yet reached the field.

 "We were at this time about two furlongs past the farm of Quatre
 Bras, as I suppose, and a line of French infantry was about the same
 distance from us in front, and we had commenced firing at that line,
 when we were ordered to form square to oppose cavalry. General
 Pack was at our head, and Major Campbell commanded the regiment.
 We formed square in an instant; in the centre were several wounded
 French soldiers witnessing our formation round them; they doubtless
 considered themselves devoted to certain death among us seeming
 barbarians, but they had no occasion to speak ill of us afterwards;
 for as they were already incapable of injuring us, we moved about
 them regardful of their wounds and suffering.

 "Our last file had got into square, and into its proper place, so far
 as unequalised companies could form a square, when the cuirassiers
 dashed full on two of its faces; their heavy horses and steel armour
 seemed sufficient to bury us under them, had they been pushed forward
 on our bayonets.

 "A moment's pause ensued; it was the pause of death. General Pack was
 on the right angle of the front face of the square, and he lifted his
 hat towards the French officer, as he was wont to do when returning
 a salute. I suppose our assailants construed our forbearance as an
 indication of surrendering; a false idea; not a blow had been struck
 nor a musket levelled, but when the general raised his hat, it served
 as a signal, though not a preconcerted one, but entirely accidental;
 for we were doubtful whether our officer commanding was protracting
 the order, waiting for the general's command, as he was present. Be
 this as it may, a most destructive fire was opened; riders cased in
 heavy armour, fell tumbling from their horses; the horses reared,
 plunged, and fell on the dismounted riders; steel helmets and
 cuirasses rang against unsheathed sabres as they fell to the ground;
 shrieks and groans of men, the neighing of horses, and the discharge
 of musketry, rent the air, as men and horses mixed together in one
 heap of indiscriminate slaughter. Those who were able to fly, fled
 towards a wood on our right, whence they had issued to the attack,
 and which seemed to afford an extensive cover to an immense reserve
 not yet brought into action.

 "Once more clear of these formidable and daring assailants we formed
 line, examined our ammunition boxes, and found them getting empty.
 Our officer commanding pointed towards the pouches of our dead and
 dying comrades, and from them a sufficient supply was obtained. We
 lay down behind the gentle rise of a trodden-down field of grain, and
 enjoyed a few minutes' rest to our wearied limbs; but not in safety
 from the flying messengers of death, the whistling music of which was
 far from lulling us to sleep.

 "Afternoon was now far spent, and we were resting in line, without
 having equalised the companies, for this would have been extremely
 dangerous in so exposed a position, for the field afforded no cover,
 and we were in advance of the other regiments. The enemy were at no
 great distance, and, I may add, firing very actively upon us. We
 had wasted a deal of ammunition this day, and surely to very little
 effect, otherwise every one of our adversaries must have bled before
 this time. Our commanding officer cautioned us against this useless
 expenditure, and we became a little more economical.

 "Our position being, as I have already observed, without any cover
 from the fire of the enemy, we were commanded to retire to the rear
 of the farm, where we took up our bivouac on the field for the
 night. The day's contest at a close, our attention was directed to
 the casualties which had occurred in our ranks. We had lost, in
 killed, one colonel, one lieutenant, one ensign, one sergeant-major,
 two sergeants, and forty-eight rank and file. One brevet
 lieutenant-colonel, five captains, five lieutenants, two ensigns,
 fourteen sergeants, one drummer, and two hundred and fourteen rank
 and file composed our list of wounded. Six privates fell into the
 enemy's hands; among these was a little lad (Smith Fyfe) about five
 feet high. The French general, on seeing this diminutive-looking lad,
 is said to have lifted him up by the collar or breech and exclaimed
 to the soldiers who were near him, 'Behold the sample of the men
 of whom you seem afraid!' This lad returned a few days afterwards,
 dressed in the clothing of a French Grenadier, and was saluted by the
 name of Napoleon, which he retained until he was discharged.

 "The night passed off in silence: no fires were lit, every man lay
 down in rear of his arms, and silence was enjoined for the night.
 Round us lay the dying and the dead, the latter not yet interred, and
 many of the former, wishing to breathe their last where they fell,
 slept to death with their heads on the same pillow on which those who
 had to toil through the future fortunes of the field reposed."




CHAPTER V

THE HIGHLANDERS AT WATERLOO


Anton's account of the retreat from Quatre Bras to Waterloo, of the
camp on the historic ridge through the falling rains and blackness of
the night before the great battle, and of the tumult and passion, the
perils and the triumph, of the memorable day, has many merits. But it
is marred by a perfect paroxysm of apostrophes to posterity, to the
spirits of the fallen, to freedom, to all sorts of more or less heroic
and non-existent abstractions. In describing the struggle in which he
was a microscopic and almost nameless actor, Anton feels it necessary
to mount on the tallest literary stilts available, and walking on
stilts is not usually a very graceful performance. Anton's account
of the battle, in a word, recalls the famous description of a Scotch
haggis. It contains much good substance, but in a very confused and
planless state. His story, indeed, only becomes intelligible by virtue
of generous omissions. Here is Anton's tale of the march from Quatre
Bras:--

 "On the morning of the 17th the unclouded heavens began to present
 the approach of day, our usual signal to rise from our sky-canopied
 bed. We started to arms and took up a new line on the field, facing
 our yet silent foe. Here, after arranging our ranks and equalising
 the companies, we piled our arms, and commenced to prepare our
 yesterday's dinner, which served us for an excellent breakfast.

 "The men not thus engaged were now busily employed in burying the
 dead, and those who had been attending the wounded in the adjoining
 houses had not neglected the interest of their respective messes.
 Besides our own allowances of meat which we had brought from
 Brussels, there was not a mess without a turkey, goose, duck, or fowl
 floating in the seething kettle; and an abundance of vegetables from
 the neighbouring gardens helped to add to the richness of the soup
 which was preparing, and which we got good time to take, and for this
 we were truly thankful, for we were very hungry.

 "A passing fog hung over the plain a short time, but soon
 disappeared, and left us with a cloudless sky. A general retrograde
 movement now took place, and we retired on the main road by which we
 had advanced from Brussels.

 "It was with regret that many of us left that field, on which some of
 our men lay breathing their last. Among this number was a young man
 whose wound was in his forehead, from which the brain protruded. In
 this state he had lain on the field during the night; his eyes were
 open, with a death film over them; two of his comrades were watching
 the last throb of his expiring breath before they would consign his
 body to the grave, already opened to receive it, when the call to
 arms made us leave him on the field to the hands of strangers.

 "The sun shone brightly on our arms as we left the fields of Quatre
 Bras, and passed the farms round which the remains of some thousands
 of brave men, British, Brunswick, Belgic, and French, were interred;
 and many yet lay scattered over the fields, and may have remained
 hidden amidst the grain which still continued standing, until the
 sickle or the scythe laid the fields bare.

 "The enemy did not as yet seem to notice our movement, and we
 continued our march until we had passed the village, half-way to
 Waterloo. Here we turned off the road to our right, formed in
 columns, and halted; and, short as that halt was, it afforded time
 for one of our regiments to hold a drum-head court-martial and
 carry the sentence into effect on the spot. Examples of this kind
 are absolutely necessary, whatever philanthropists may say to the
 contrary. They tend to preserve regularity, order, and discipline;
 and although an individual may suffer a punishment which is debasing
 and cruel, yet it is better that this should be awarded and inflicted
 than to see hundreds fall victims to the rapacity that might ensue
 from not timely visiting the aggressor with punishment.

 "We had now attained the undulating height of Mont St. Jean, and
 Wellington said, 'We shall retire no farther.' The thunder ceased to
 roll its awful peals through the heavens, the thick embodied clouds
 deployed, spread wide, and half dissolved in drizzly mist, but, as if
 doubtful of man's resolves, resumed again their threatening aspect,
 as if to secure our halt."

At Waterloo Sir Denis Pack's brigade--the 1st, 42nd, 44th, and
92nd--formed part of Picton's division, and held the line immediately
to the left of the great Brussels road. It was on this part of
Wellington's battle-front that Napoleon launched his first great
infantry attack--D'Erlon's corps, four close-massed columns--over
13,000 bayonets in all--with the fire of seventy-four guns sweeping the
path in their front as with a besom of flame.

The story of how Picton's slender lines met this mighty onfall, shook
the French columns into retreat with actual bayonet push, and how the
Life Guards, Inniskillings, and Greys swept down the slope and utterly
wrecked D'Erlon's swaying battalions is one of the most dramatic
passages in the story of the famous day.

Anton's account of the night before Waterloo is graphic:--

 "Our lines now formed behind the long-extended ridge of Mont St.
 Jean, having the village of Waterloo a mile or two in our rear, and
 at no less a distance the dark forest of Soignes, which extends
 to Brussels. The right of our front British line extended beyond
 Hougoumont as far as Merke Braine; the left is said to have extended
 to Wavre! Sir T. Picton's division consisted of the 28th, 32nd, 79th,
 and the 95th (rifle corps), under the command of Sir James Kempt; and
 the 1st, 42nd, 44th, and 92nd Regiments, under the command of Sir
 Denis Pack, extended from the left of the Brussels road to a copse
 on a rising ground which probably overlooked the whole field. The
 extensive farm-houses and offices of La Haye Sainte were to the right
 of the division, but in front and on the right side of the road.

 "Before us was a line of Belgic and Dutch troops; a narrow road,
 lined with stunted quickset hedges, runs between this line of
 foreigners (or I may, with more justice, say natives) and us. This
 road commands a view of the enemy's position, and the side next to us
 is the artillery's post; the hedges in front form a feeble cover from
 the enemy's view, but no defence against his shot, shell, or musketry.

 "Our line, being on the slope next to Waterloo, was hidden from the
 enemy, who took up his position on the heights of La Belle Alliance,
 parallel to those of St. Jean: a valley corresponding to those wavy
 heights on either side divides the two armies, a distance of about
 half a musket-shot intervening between the adverse fronts.

 "We piled our arms, kindled fires, and stood round the welcome blaze
 to warm ourselves and dry our dripping clothes. Midnight approached,
 and all the fields towards the artillery's post were hid in darkness,
 save what the fitful gleams of our fires cast over them. Silence
 prevailed, and wet although we were, we were falling asleep sitting
 round the fires or stretched on scattered branches brought for fuel.
 At this time a very heavy shower poured down upon us, and occasioned
 some movement or noisy murmur in the French army or line of Belgians.
 This induced our sentries to give an alarm. In an instant each man
 of the brigade stood by his musket; the bayonets were already on the
 pieces, and these all loaded, notwithstanding the rain. We stood thus
 to our arms for nearly an hour, sinking to our ankles amongst the
 soft muddy soil of the field, when the alarm was found to be false,
 and we again sat or lay down to repose.

 "Long-looked-for day at last began to break; we stood to our useless
 arms for a few minutes, and then began to examine their contents.
 The powder was moistened in the piece and completely washed out of
 the pan. The shots were drawn, muskets sponged out, locks oiled, and
 everything put to rights."

Anton's description of the actual on-coming of the French and of the
charge of the Greys is in his worst style; turgid, windy, unreal. Yet
it is the story of a man who actually plied 'Brown Bess' in the central
passion of the fight, and ran in with levelled bayonet on D'Erlon's
Grenadiers, and cheered the gallant Greys as they rode past on their
famous charge. Had Anton told his tale with the prosaic simplicity
of De Foe or the stern realism of Swift, we might have had a battle
picture memorable in literature. As it is, we must be thankful for
small mercies. The present reader at least shall be spared Anton's
incessant apostrophes:--

 "Now, on our right, Napoleon urged on his heavy columns, while a
 like movement was made against our left. The guns opened their
 war-breathing mouths in thundering peals, and all along the ridge of
 Mont St. Jean arose one dense cloud of smoke.

 "France now pushed forward on the line of our Belgic allies, drove
 them from their post, and rolled them in one promiscuous mass of
 confusion through the ranks of our brigade, which instantly advanced
 to repel the pursuers, who came pushing on in broken disorder, in the
 eagerness of pursuit, till obstructed by the hedge and narrow road,
 while a like obstruction presented itself to us on the other side.
 We might have forced ourselves through as the Belgians had done,
 but our bare thighs had no protection from the piercing thorns; and
 doubtless those runaways had more wisdom in shunning death, though at
 the hazard of laceration, than we would have shown in rushing forward
 upon it in disorder, with self-inflicted torture. The foe beheld
 our front and paused; a sudden terror seized his flushed ranks. We
 were in the act of breaking through the hedge, when our general gave
 orders to open our ranks. In an instant our cavalry passed through,
 leaped both hedges, and plunged on the panic-stricken foe. 'Scotland
 for ever!' burst from the mouth of each Highlander as the Scots Greys
 pass through our ranks.

 "What pen can describe the scene? Horses' hoofs sinking in men's
 breasts. Riders' swords streaming in blood, waving over their heads,
 and descending in deadly vengeance. Stroke follows stroke, like
 the turning of a flail in the hand of a dexterous thresher; the
 living stream gushes red from the ghastly wound. There the piercing
 shrieks and dying groans; here the loud cheering of an exulting army,
 animating the slayers to deeds of signal vengeance upon a daring foe.
 It was a scene of vehement destruction, yells and shrieks, wounds
 and death; and the bodies of the dead served as pillows for the dying.

 "A thousand prisoners are driven in before our cavalry as they
 return over the corpse-strewn field, and the loud shouts of ten
 thousand soldiers welcome the victors back. But long and loud are the
 enthusiastic cheerings of the proud Highlanders as they greet the
 gallant Greys' approach. 'Glory of Scotland!' bursts spontaneously
 from the mouth of each Highlander, while rending shouts of 'England!'
 or 'Ireland!' welcome the 1st and Inniskilling Dragoons, and echo
 along the lines. This dreadful charge made by our cavalry in our
 immediate front gave an impulse bordering on enthusiasm to our
 spirits that nothing could depress. But the enemy, as if dreading
 more than common opposition at this spot, forbore to press upon it
 during the remaining part of the day.

 "The right and left both sustained the impetuous onset of Napoleon's
 cavalry, and these on each occasion met with powerful opposition,
 and were driven back in wild confusion. But on the right and centre
 he seems to urge his greatest force throughout the whole day. La
 Haye Sainte is one pool of blood; against it Napoleon's artillery
 incessantly play, and columns of infantry are urged on to drive
 the brave defenders out. But these meet them with fire and steel,
 and repel them with determined resolution. Here a never-ceasing
 combat rages throughout the day, and forms an interesting object in
 the general picture of the field. Hougoumont is no less a scene of
 slaughter; there, every effort is made to obtain possession and to
 break in upon our right wing. Sometimes in the heat of a charge they
 rush past its bounds, but meet with wounds or death as they fly back;
 for it is only when the enemy occasionally pursues his apparently
 victorious course beyond his lines and past our guns that he gets a
 view of our columns or lines of infantry, which immediately take
 advantage of his disordered front, and drive him back, with immense
 loss, beyond our guns and down the descent; they then retire to their
 well-chosen ground and send out a company or two of skirmishers from
 each regiment to keep up a never-ceasing fire, save when driven back
 on their respective columns in those repeated charges.

 "The sun, as he hastens down, bursts through the hazy clouds and
 gleams in brightness over the long-contested field. It is the setting
 sun of Napoleon's greatness.

 "The loss of the regiment this day was trifling, if compared with
 that which it sustained on the 16th at Quatre Bras: we had only six
 men killed; one captain, three lieutenants, and thirty-three rank and
 file wounded. Brussels, which had been kept in a state of excitement
 since the night of the 15th, heard the glad tidings of the result
 of the battle, and the doors were opened wide for the reception of
 the bleeding soldiers, who had been conveyed thither on waggons or
 had dragged their maimed limbs along the way without assistance. The
 poor women, who had been forced back to the rear of the army when the
 battle commenced, were hurried amidst the mingled mass of fugitives,
 panic-struck batmen, mules, horses, and cattle, back to the gates of
 Brussels; but on entering, found no friendly hand stretched out to
 take them off the streets.

 "Night passes over the groaning field of Waterloo, and morning gives
 its early light to the survivors of the battle to return to the
 heights of St. Jean, on purpose to succour the wounded or bury the
 dead. Here may be seen the dismounted gun, the wheels of the carriage
 half sunk in the mire; the hand of the gunner rests on the nave, his
 body half-buried in a pool of blood, and his eyes open to heaven,
 whither his spirit has already fled. Here are spread, promiscuously,
 heaps of mangled bodies--some without head, or arms, or legs: others
 lie stretched naked, their features betraying no mark of violent
 suffering.

 "The population of Brussels, prompted by a justifiable curiosity,
 approach the field to see the remains of the strangers who fell
 to save their spoil-devoted city, and to pick up some fragment as
 a memorial of the battle, or as a relic for other days. Of these
 the field affords an abundant harvest; cuirasses, helmets, medals,
 swords, pistols, and all the various weapons of destruction in
 military use, besides the balls and bullets, which may be ploughed up
 a thousand years hence. Here also are hundreds of blankets, ripped-up
 knapsacks, torn shirts, stockings, and all the simple contents of
 the fallen soldiers' kits. Letters and memoranda of the slain strew
 the field in every direction, which are picked up by the curious and
 carefully preserved."




IV

WITH THE GUNS AT WATERLOO




IV.--WITH THE GUNS AT WATERLOO


Mercer, the author of the "Journal of the Waterloo Campaign," came of
a soldierly stock. His father belonged to the Royal Engineers, served
on the staff of Sir Henry Clinton in the American War of Independence,
and rose to the rank of general. Cavalie Mercer, with whose book we are
concerned, was born in 1783, passed through the Military Academy at
Woolwich, obtained a commission in the artillery at sixteen, and had
not reached the retired list when he died at the age of eighty-five.
But though his career as a soldier was long and honourable, it
cannot--except for the three great days of Quatre Bras and Waterloo--be
called very inspiring.

Mercer's first military service was in Ireland at the time of the
rebellion. War is always hateful, but its blackest form is civil war.
Mercer was next unfortunate enough to take part in the most ignoble
expedition known to British arms--Whitelocke's shameful and unhappy
performance at Buenos Ayres. This was the worst school imaginable for
a young soldier, but Mercer had fine military gifts, and though he was
shut out from the Peninsular campaigns, when he made his appearance
on the field of Waterloo he showed himself to be an artillery officer
of very fine quality--cool, skilful, and gallant. He served after the
peace in North America, and commanded the artillery in Nova Scotia in
the troubled days of the Maine boundary-line dispute, when it seemed
likely that England and the United States would drift into war.

Mercer's long military career found its climax in the three memorable
days of June 16-18, 1815; and the splendours and terrors, the bloodshed
and the triumph of those mighty battles are vividly reflected in his
pages.




CHAPTER I

WAITING FOR THE GUNS


Mercer held the rank of second captain only in troop G, but Sir
Alexander Dickson, whose troop it was, being employed on other duties,
Mercer was in actual command. It was a fine troop, perfect in drill,
and splendidly horsed. It owed this latter circumstance, perhaps, to
a characteristic bit of War Office administration. The artillery was
being reduced to the level of a peace establishment when Napoleon
broke loose from Elba, and there came the sudden summons to war. A
second troop of horse-artillery was at that moment in Colchester
barracks. It was broken up, and troop G took the picked horses of
both batteries--"thus," says Mercer proudly, "making it the finest
troop in the service." One fine troop was in this way made out of two
half-dismantled batteries.

The troop was made up of eighty gunners and eighty-four drivers, with
the usual proportion of officers and non-commissioned officers. The
horses numbered no less than 226. There were six guns--five of them
being nine-pounders, and one a heavy five-and-a-half inch howitzer.
Mercer has the wholesome pride of a good officer in his own men and
guns. He tells with pardonable complacency the story of how his troop
shone in a grand cavalry review held on May 29, near Gramont:--

 "About two o'clock the Duke of Wellington and Prince Blucher,
 followed by an immense cortège, in which were to be seen many of
 the most distinguished officers and almost every uniform in Europe,
 arrived on the ground. Need I say that the foreigners were loud in
 praise of the martial air, fine persons, and complete equipment of
 the men and horses, and of the strength and beauty of the latter? and
 my vanity on that occasion was most fully gratified, for on arriving
 where we stood, the Duke not only called old Blucher's attention to
 'the beautiful battery,' but, instead of proceeding straight through
 the ranks, as they had done everywhere else, each sub-division--nay,
 each individual horse--was closely scrutinised, Blucher repeating
 continually that he had never seen anything so superb in his life,
 and concluding by exclaiming, 'Mein Gott, dere is not von orse in
 dies batterie wich is not goot for Veldt Marshal': and Wellington
 agreed with him. It certainly was a splendid collection of horses.
 However, except asking Sir George Wood whose troop it was, his Grace
 never even bestowed a regard on me as I followed from sub-division to
 sub-division."

The troop, as Mercer's story shows, was literally smashed up at
Waterloo; but Mercer, with great energy and skill, quickly built it up
again, and at a great review in Paris, where the allied sovereigns were
present, the English guns were once more the admired of all observers.
He writes:--

 "It seems that we have been the _rara avis_ of the day ever since our
 review. The rapidity of our movements, close-wheeling, perfection
 of our equipment, &c., &c., excited universal astonishment and
 admiration. The consequence of this was an application to the Duke
 for a closer inspection, which he most magnanimously granted, and
 ordered Ross's troop out for that purpose. They paraded in the
 fields near Clichy. The reviewers, I understand, were _marechaux
 de France_; but there was also a great concourse of officers of all
 nations. After the manœuvres the troop was dismounted, and a most
 deliberate inspection of ammunition, and even of the men's kits,
 appointments, shoeing, construction of carriages, &c., &c., took
 place. I believe they were equally astonished and pleased with what
 they saw, and as there were several among them taking notes, have
 no doubt that we shall soon see improvements introduced into the
 Continental artillery."

Mercer, curiously enough, declares that the British artilleryman of his
day had no affection for his horse, and in this respect compares very
ill with the German artilleryman; the same thing, he says, applies to
British and German cavalry:--

 "Affection for, and care of, his horse is the trait _par excellence_
 which distinguishes the German dragoon from the English. The former
 would sell everything to feed his horse; the latter would sell his
 horse itself for spirits, or the means of obtaining them. The one
 never thinks of himself until his horse is provided for; the other
 looks upon the animal as a curse and a source of perpetual drudgery
 to himself, and gives himself no concern about it when once away from
 under his officer's eye. The German accustoms his horse to partake of
 his own fare. I remember a beautiful mare, belonging to a sergeant of
 the 3rd Hussars, K.G.L., which would even eat onions. She was one of
 the very few that escaped after the disastrous retreat of Corunna,
 and had been saved and smuggled on board ship by the sergeant
 himself. In the Peninsula the only means of enforcing some attention
 to their horses amongst our English regiments was to make every man
 walk and carry his saddle-bags whose horse died or was ill."

All branches of the British army, it may be added, did not impress
the allied sovereigns in the same favourable manner as the artillery.
The British infantry seemed under-sized as compared with Austrians,
Prussians, &c. Mercer's account of the memorable review, held only five
weeks after Waterloo, is interesting:--

 "At length the approach of the sovereigns was announced, and they
 came preceded and followed by a most numerous and brilliant cortège,
 in which figured, perhaps, some of almost every arm of every army
 in Europe. It was a splendid and most interesting sight. First came
 the Emperor Alexander and the King of Prussia, in their respective
 green and blue uniforms, riding together--the former, as usual, all
 smiles; the latter taciturn and melancholy. A little in their rear
 followed the Austrian Emperor, in a white uniform, turned up with
 red, but quite plain--a thin, dried-up, thread-paper of a man, not of
 the most distinguished bearing; his lean, brown visage, however, bore
 an expression of kindness and _bonhomie_, which folk say his true
 character in no way belies. They passed along, scanning our people
 with evident interest and curiosity; and in passing me (as they did
 to every commanding officer), pulled off their hats, and saluted me
 with most gracious smiles. I wonder if they do the same to their own.
 Until yesterday I had not seen any British infantry under arms since
 the evening the troops from America arrived at Garges, and, in the
 meantime, have constantly seen corps of foreign infantry.

 "These are all uncommonly well dressed in new clothes, smartly made,
 setting the men off to the greatest advantage--add to which their
 coiffure of high broad-topped shakos, or enormous caps of bearskin.
 Our infantry--indeed our whole army--appeared at the review in
 the same clothes in which they had marched, slept, and fought for
 months. The colour had faded to a dusky brick-dust hue; their coats,
 originally not very smartly made, had acquired by constant wearing
 that loose, easy set so characteristic of old clothes, comfortable
 to the wearer, but not calculated to add grace to his appearance.
 _Pour surcroît de laideur_, their cap is perhaps the meanest, ugliest
 thing ever invented. From all these causes it arose that our infantry
 appeared to the utmost disadvantage--dirty, shabby, mean, and very
 small. Some such impression was, I fear, made on the sovereigns, for
 a report has reached us this morning that they remarked to the Duke
 what very small men the English were. 'Ay,' replied our noble chief,
 'they are small; but your Majesties will find none who fight so
 well.' I wonder if this is true. However small our men and mean their
 appearance, yet it was evident that they were objects of intense
 interest from the immense time and close scrutiny of the inspection."

Mercer, with his troop, embarked at Harwich on April 9, and landed
at Ostend on the 13th. Thence he marched, with frequent halts, to
Brussels. His account of the marches and experiences of his troop is
very interesting, if only as showing that even under a great commander
like Wellington, amazing blunders and much distracted confusion were
possible. Nothing more absurd can well be imagined than the fashion
in which Mercer's fine troop was disembarked at Ostend; and nothing
could be more planless and belated than the marching--or rather the
loitering--of troop G towards Brussels. Wellington used to complain
afterwards that in the Waterloo campaign he had the most villainous
staff with which an unhappy general was ever afflicted; and the
helpless quality of Wellington's staff is reflected in Mercer's account
of the orders he received--or did not receive--directing his march to
the front. Here is Mercer's account of how his troops started from
their English barracks on the march which was to end on the smoky ridge
at Waterloo:--

 "On the morning of the 9th, the troop paraded at half-past seven
 o'clock with as much regularity and as quietly as if only going to
 a field-day; not a man either absent or intoxicated, and every part
 of the guns and appointments in the most perfect order. At eight,
 the hour named in orders, we marched off the parade. The weather was
 fine, the scenery, as we skirted the beautiful banks of the Stour,
 charming, and the occasion exhilarating. Near Manningtree we halted a
 short time to feed our horses, and then, pursuing our route, arrived
 at Harwich about three o'clock in the afternoon. Here we found the
 transports--the _Adventure_, _Philarea_, and _Salus_, in which last I
 embarked.

 "About 2 P.M. on the 11th, a light breeze from the N.W. induced our
 agent to get under way, and we repaired on board our respective ships
 with every prospect of a good and speedy passage. In this, however,
 we were disappointed, for the breeze dying away as the sun went down,
 we anchored, by signal, at the harbour's mouth, just as it got dark.

 "The evening was splendid. A clear sky studded with myriads of stars
 overhead, and below a calm unruffled sea, reflecting on its glassy
 surface the lights of the distant town, the low murmuring sounds
 from which, and the rippling of the water under the ships' bows,
 were the only interruptions to the solemn stillness that prevailed
 after the people had retired to their berths. In our more immediate
 neighbourhood stretched out the long, low, sandy tract, on the
 seaward extremity of which the dark masses and Landguard fort could
 just be distinguished.

 "With daybreak on the morning of the 12th came a favourable wind,
 though light, and again we took up our anchors and proceeded to sea.
 For some distance after clearing the harbour our course lay along
 the Suffolk coast, and so near in that objects on shore were plainly
 discernible. To us who had long been stationed at Woodbridge, only a
 few miles inland, this was highly interesting. We knew every village,
 every copse, every knoll--nay, almost every tree. There were the
 houses in which we had so oft been hospitably entertained; there were
 the sheep-walks on which we had so often manœuvred; and there in the
 distance, as we passed the mouth of the Deben, our glasses showed us
 the very barrack on the hill, with its tiled roofs illumined by the
 noontide sun. About Bawdsey we left the coast, and steered straight
 over with a light but favourable wind; the low, sandy shores of
 Suffolk soon sank beneath the horizon.

 "During the night a light breeze right aft and smooth water enabled
 us to make good progress; but towards morning (13th) the wind had
 very considerably increased, and although the coast was not in sight,
 we were sensible of its neighbourhood from the number of curious
 heavy-looking boats plying round us in all directions, having the
 foremast with its huge lug-sail stuck right up in the bow or rather
 inclining over it.

 "Nothing, certainly, could be more repulsive than the appearance of
 the coast--sandhills as far as the eye could reach, broken only by
 the grey and lugubrious works and buildings of Ostend, and further
 west by the spires of Mittelkerke and Nieuport peering above the
 sandhills. The day, too, was one little calculated to enliven the
 scene. A fresh breeze and cloudy sky; the sea black, rough, and
 chilly; the land all under one uniform cold grey tint, presenting
 scarcely any relief of light and shadow, consequently no feature.
 Upon reconnoitring it, however, closer, we found that this forbidding
 exterior was only an outer coating to a lovely gem. Through the
 openings between the sandhills could be seen a rich level country of
 the liveliest verdure, studded with villages and farms interspersed
 amongst avenues of trees and small patches of wood.

 "A black-looking mass of timber rising from the waters off the
 entrance of the harbour, and which we understood to be a fort, now
 became the principal object of our attention. The harbour of Ostend
 is an artificial one, formed by _jetées_ of piles projecting as far
 as low-water mark. The right on entering is merely a row of piles
 running along in front of the works of the town; but on the left is
 a long mole or _jetée_ on the extremity of which is a small fort.
 Behind this mole to the north-east the shore curving inwards forms a
 bight, presenting an extent of flat sandy beach on which the water
 is never more than a few feet deep even at the highest tides. A
 tremendous surf breaks on this whenever it blows from the westward.

 "Followed by a crowd of other craft of all sorts and sizes, we
 shot rapidly along towards that part of the harbour where a dense
 assemblage of shipping filled up its whole breadth and forbade
 further progress, so that one wondered what was to become of the
 numerous vessels in our wake. The mystery was soon explained, for
 each having attained the point, turning her prow to the town, ran
 bump on the sands and there stuck fast. Those immediately above us
 had just arrived, and from them a regiment of Light Dragoons was in
 the act of disembarking, by throwing their horses overboard and then
 hauling them ashore by a long rope attached to their head-collars.
 What a scene! What hallooing, shouting, vociferating, and plunging!
 The poor horses did not appear much gratified by their sudden
 transition from the warm hold to a cold bath.

 "Our keel had scarcely touched the sand ere we were abruptly boarded
 by a naval officer (Captain Hill) with a gang of sailors, who, _sans
 cérémonie_, instantly commenced hoisting our horses out, and throwing
 them, as well as our saddlery, &c., overboard, without ever giving
 time for making any disposition to receive or secure the one or the
 other. To my remonstrance his answer was, 'I can't help it, sir; the
 Duke's orders are positive that no delay is to take place in landing
 the troops as they arrive, and the ships sent back again; so you must
 be out of her before dark.' It was then about 3 P.M., and I thought
 this a most uncomfortable arrangement.

 "The scramble and confusion that ensued baffle all description.
 Bundles of harness went over the side in rapid succession as well
 as horses. In vain we urged the loss and damage that must accrue
 from such a proceeding. 'Can't help it--no business of mine--Duke's
 orders are positive,' &c., &c., was our only answer. Meantime the
 ebb had begun to diminish the depth of water alongside, and enabled
 us to send parties overboard and to the beach to collect and carry
 our things ashore, as well as to haul and secure the horses. The
 same operation commenced from the other vessels as they arrived, and
 the bustle and noise were inconceivable. The dragoons and our men
 (some nearly, others quite, naked) were dashing in and out of the
 water, struggling with the affrighted horses, or securing their wet
 accoutrements as best they could. Some of the former were saddling
 their dripping horses, and others mounting and marching off in small
 parties. Disconsolate-looking groups of women and children were to be
 seen here and there sitting on their poor duds, or roaming about in
 search of their husbands, or mayhap of a stray child, all clamouring,
 lamenting, and materially increasing the babel-like confusion.

 "It was not without difficulty that I succeeded at last in
 impressing upon Captain Hill the necessity of leaving our guns and
 ammunition-waggons, &c., on board for the night--otherwise his
 furious zeal would have turned all out to stand on the wet sand or
 be washed away. Meantime, although we were on shore, we were without
 orders what to do next. Not an officer, either of the staff, the
 garrison, or even of our own corps, came near us. Night approached,
 and with it bad weather evidently. Our poor shivering horses and
 heaps of wet harness could not remain on the sands much longer, when
 the flood began to make again; and it was necessary to look about
 and see what could be done. With this intent, therefore, leaving the
 officers to collect their divisions, I got one of my horses saddled
 and rode into the town. Here was the same bustle (although not the
 same confusion) as on the sands. The streets were thronged with
 British officers, and the quays with guns, waggons, horses, baggage,
 &c.

 "One would hardly expect to meet with any delay in finding the
 commandant of a fortress, yet such was my case; and it was not until
 after long and repeated inquiry that I discovered Lieut.-Colonel
 Gregory, 44th Regiment, to be that personage, and found his
 residence. From him, however, I could obtain nothing. He seemed
 hardly to have expected the compliment of reporting our arrival, and
 stated that he had no other orders but that the troops of every arm
 should march for Ghent the moment they landed, without halting a
 single day in Ostend.

 "Strange to say neither I nor the colonel recollected there was such
 a person in Ostend as an assistant-quarter-master-general, who should
 be referred to on such an occasion. Yet this was the case; and that
 officer, instead of attending to the debarkation of the troops,
 or making himself acquainted with the arrivals, kept out of sight
 altogether. Baffled at all points, I was returning to the sands when
 I met Major Drummond on the Quai Impérial, and related my story. His
 advice was to march to Ghystelle (a village about six miles from
 Ostend), and after putting up there for the night, to return and
 disembark my guns, &c., in the morning. While speaking, however,
 some one (I forget who) came up with the agreeable information that
 Ghystelle was already fully occupied by the 16th Dragoons. He,
 however, gave me directions for some large sheds about a mile off,
 where his own horses had passed the preceding night.

 "This was some consolation: so riding off immediately to reconnoitre
 the place and the road to it, I returned to the beach just as it
 got dark; and a most miserable scene of confusion I there found.
 Our saddles, harness, baggage, &c., were still strewed about the
 sand, and these the flood, which was now making, threatened soon to
 submerge. _Pour surcroît de malheur_, the rain came down in torrents,
 and a storm, which had been brewing up the whole afternoon, now burst
 over us most furiously. The lightning was quite tremendous, whilst
 a hurricane, howling horribly through the rigging of the ships, was
 only exceeded in noise by the loud explosions and rattling of the
 incessant claps of thunder.

 "Our people, meantime, blinded by the lightning, had borrowed some
 lanterns from the ship, and were busily employed searching for the
 numerous articles still missing. The obscurity, however, between the
 vivid flashes was such that we were only enabled to keep together by
 repeatedly calling to each other, and it was not without difficulty
 and great watchfulness that we escaped being caught by the tide,
 which flowed rapidly in over the flat sands. At length, having
 collected as many of our things as was possible, and saddled our
 horses (some two or three of which had escaped altogether), we began
 our march for the sheds a little after midnight, with a farrier and
 another dismounted man carrying lanterns at the head of our column.

 "The rain continued pouring, but flashes of lightning occurred now
 only at intervals, and the more subdued rolling of the thunder told
 us that it was passing away in the distance. Our route lay through
 the town, to gain which we found some advanced ditch to be crossed
 by a very frail wooden bridge. Half the column, perhaps, might
 have cleared this, when, 'crack,' down it went, precipitating all
 who were on it at the moment into the mud below, and completely
 cutting off those in the rear. Here was a dilemma. Ignorant of the
 localities, and without a guide, how was the rear of the column to
 join us, or how were the people in the ditch, with their horses, to
 be extricated? Luckily none were hurt seriously, and the depth was
 not great--not more, perhaps, than six or eight feet; but that was
 enough to baffle all our attempts at extricating the horses. Some
 Belgic soldiers of a neighbouring guard, of which we were not aware,
 fortunately heard us, and came to our assistance; and one of them,
 crossing the ditch, undertook to guide the rear of our column and
 those below to another gate, whilst one accompanied us to the Quai
 Impérial, where, after waiting a while, we were at length assembled,
 drenched with rain and starving of cold and hunger.

 "The Quai was silent and dark; the only light gleamed dimly through
 the wet from a miserable lamp over the door of a café, in which
 people were still moving; and the only sounds that broke the
 stillness of the quarter were the splashing of the rain and the
 clattering of our steel scabbards and horses' feet as we moved
 dejectedly on--winding our way through unknown avenues (for in the
 dark I found it impossible to recognise the narrow streets through
 which I had so hurriedly passed in the afternoon), occasionally
 illuminated by a solitary lamp, the feeble light of which, however,
 was somewhat increased by reflection on the wet pavement. After
 following for some time this devious course, I began to fear I had
 missed the road, when again we stumbled upon a Belgic guard, by whose
 direction and guidance we at length reached the outer barrier. Here
 we again came to a standstill, the officer in charge refusing to let
 us out. Some altercation ensued; I forget the particulars, but it
 ended in his opening the gate.

 "Once clear of the town, we hoped soon to reach our lodging; but had
 scarcely advanced a hundred yards ere we found that result was more
 distant than we had fancied, and that patience was still requisite.
 The rain had rendered the fat soil so slippery that our horses could
 scarcely keep their legs, and the road running along the narrow
 summit of a dyke, with ditches on each side, rendered precaution and
 slow movement imperative. Every moment the fall of some horse impeded
 the column; our lanterns went out; and after wandering a considerable
 time, we at length ascertained, by knocking up the people at a house
 by the wayside, that we had overshot our mark, and it was not until
 two in the morning that we succeeded in finding the sheds. These were
 immensely long buildings attached to some saw-mills, for what use I
 know not, unless to store planks, &c., for they were now empty; but
 they were admirably adapted to our purpose, since we could range all
 our horses along one side, while the men occupied the other, in one
 of them. A quantity of hay, and some straw, left by our predecessors,
 was a valuable acquisition to man and beast under such circumstances.
 All our enjoyments are the effect of contrast. It would be considered
 miserable enough to be obliged to pass the night under such equivocal
 shelter as these sheds afforded, and that, too, in wet clothes; yet
 did we now, after twelve hours of harassing work and exposure to the
 weather, look upon them as palaces, and having cared for our poor
 beasts as far as circumstances would permit, proceeded to prepare for
 that repose so necessary and so longed for.

 "Our road back to the town, now we had daylight, appeared very
 short, and having dried considerably, was not so slippery as last
 night. The gates were not yet opened when we arrived; a crowd of
 workmen of different kinds had already assembled and were waiting
 for admission, as were we, for a few minutes. At last they opened,
 and we proceeded to the harbour in search of our ship. The quais,
 beach, &c., were thronged as on the day before, and we added to
 the bustle in disembarking our guns and carriages, &c. This was
 completed by eleven o'clock, and we were ready to march forward;
 but the commissariat detained us waiting the issue of our rations
 until 3 P.M.--four mortal hours, considering our eagerness to get
 on and explore this new country, and the bore of being confined to
 one spot, since it was impossible to wander about the town, seeing
 that we could not calculate the moment when these gentry might find
 it convenient to supply us. Of our horses two were still missing, as
 were some saddle-bags and a number of smaller articles; and this is
 not to be wondered at when the scandalous manner in which they were
 thrown overboard, the badness of the weather, the darkness of the
 night, together with the ebbing and flowing of the tide, are taken
 into consideration.

 "The appearance, too, of the troop was vexatious in the extreme. Our
 noble horses, yesterday morning so sleek and spirited, now stood
 with drooping heads and rough staring coats, plainly indicating
 the mischief they had sustained in being taken from a hot hold,
 plunged into cold water, and then exposed for more than seven hours
 on an open beach to such a tempest of wind and rain as that we
 experienced last night. Here was a practical illustration of the
 folly of grooming and pampering military horses, destined as they
 are to such exposures and privations. As for our men, they looked
 jaded, their clothes all soiled with mud and wet, the sabres rusty,
 and the bearskins of their helmets flattened down by the rain.
 Still, however, they displayed the same spirit and alacrity as that
 which has always been a characteristic of the horse-artillery, more
 particularly of G troop."

The tedium of waiting for so many hours on Ostend beach was relieved by
a naval incident of an exciting quality:--

 "A loud cry of dismay suddenly pervaded the crowd, and all
 simultaneously rushed to the ramparts. I followed this movement.
 The morning, though somewhat overcast, had been fine, and the wind
 moderate; but as the day advanced, and the flood-tide set in, the
 south-westerly breeze had gradually increased to a gale. On reaching
 the rampart, I immediately observed that the flat shore to the
 northward, as far as the eye could reach, was covered with a sheet of
 white foam from the tremendous surf breaking on it; whilst the spray,
 rising in clouds and borne along before the blast, involved the whole
 neighbourhood in a thick salt mist. Nothing could be more savage and
 wild than the appearance of the coast.

 "In the offing, numerous vessels under small sail were running for
 the harbour. One small brig had missed, and before assistance could
 be given, had been whirled round the _jetée_, and cast broadside on
 amongst the breakers. Her situation was truly awful. The surf broke
 over her in a frightful manner, sending its spray higher than her
 masts, and causing her to roll from side to side until her yards
 dipped in the water, and induced a belief every moment that she
 must roll over. Every now and then a huge wave, larger than its
 predecessor, would raise her bodily, and then, rapidly receding,
 suddenly let her fall again on the ground with a concussion that
 made the masts bend and vibrate like fishing-rods, and seemed to
 threaten instant annihilation. Of her sails, some were torn to rags,
 and others, flying loose, flapped and fluttered with a noise that was
 audible from the rampart, despite the roaring of the surf. The people
 on board appeared in great agitation, and kept shouting to those on
 shore for assistance, which they were unable to give.

 "Intense anxiety pervaded the assembled multitude as the shattered
 vessel alternately rose to view or was buried in a sea of foam.
 Numbers ran down to the sands opposite to her; and from them she
 could not have been twenty yards distant, yet could they not afford
 the despairing crew the slightest aid. Whilst thus attending in
 breathless expectation the horrid catastrophe, the return of our
 quarter-master with the rations summoned us unwillingly from the
 rampart to commence our march. We afterwards learnt that a boat from
 the harbour had succeeded in saving the crew (she had no troops on
 board); but the unfortunate pilot who thus gallantly risked his
 own life for them was killed by the boat rising suddenly under the
 vessel's counter as he stood in the bow, which dashed his brains out."




CHAPTER II

ON MARCH TO THE FIELD


Mercer's description of his march across the Low Countries is full of
keen observation, and rich in pictures of peasant life. At Ghent the
troop halted for seven days. Here the much-wandering Louis XVIII. held
his Court, and Mercer gives an entertaining account of the scenes he
witnessed:--

 "During the seven days we remained in Ghent our time was so occupied
 by duties that there was little leisure to look about us. Amongst
 other duties, it fell to our lot to furnish a guard of honour to
 Louis XVIII., then residing in Ghent, his own troops having been sent
 to Alost to make room for the British, which were continually passing
 through. Our subalterns were very well pleased with this arrangement,
 for the duty was nothing. They found an excellent table, and passed
 their time very agreeably with the young men of the _gardes du
 corps_, some of whom were always in attendance. Many of these were
 mere boys, and the ante-room of his most Christian Majesty frequently
 exhibited bolstering matches and other amusements, savouring strongly
 of the boarding-school. However, they were good-natured, and always
 most attentive to the comforts of the officer on guard. The royal
 stud was in the barrack stables, and consisted principally of grey
 horses, eighteen or twenty of which had been purchased in England at
 a sale of 'cast horses' from the Scots Greys.

 "We frequently met French officers of all ranks, and formed
 acquaintance with many gentlemanly, well-informed men. At the Lion
 d'Or and Hôtel de Flandre we found there was a _table d'hôte_
 every night at eight o'clock, and, by way of passing the evening,
 usually resorted to one or the other for supper. Here we were sure
 of meeting many Frenchmen, and as the same people were generally
 constant attendants, we became intimate, and discussed the merits
 of our national troops respectively over our wine or _ponche_. It
 was the first time most of them had had an opportunity of inspecting
 British troops closely, though many had often met them in the field;
 and they were very curious in their inquiries into the organisation,
 government, and equipment of our army. Although allowing all due
 credit to the bravery displayed by our troops in the Peninsula, and
 the talents of our general (the Duke), yet were they unanimous in
 their belief that neither would avail in the approaching conflict,
 and that we must succumb before their idol and his grand army, for
 though these gentlemen had deserted Napoleon to follow the fortunes
 of Louis XVIII., it was evident they still revered the former.

 "Their admiration of our troops, particularly of the cavalry,
 was very great, but they expressed astonishment at seeing so few
 decorations. It was in vain we asserted that medals were rarely given
 in the British army, and then only to commanding officers, &c. They
 shook their heads, appeared incredulous, and asked, 'Where are the
 troops that fought in Spain?' There might have been something more
 than mere curiosity in all this; there might have been an anxiety to
 ascertain whether their countrymen were about to cope with veterans
 or young soldiers. It might have been thrown out as a lure to provoke
 information relative to the present employment of those veteran
 bands. Moreover, I shrewdly suspected many of the gentlemen were
 actually spies.

 "Amongst others who had followed Louis XVIII. was Marmont. I think
 it was the day after our arrival, passing over the open space near
 the Place d'Armes by the river, I saw a French general officer
 exercising a horse in the _manège_, and learnt with astonishment
 that this was Marmont; for the man in question had two good arms,
 whereas for years past I had, in common with most people in England,
 looked upon it as a fact that he had left one at Salamanca. French
 deserters, both officers and privates, were daily coming in; it was
 said they deserted by hundreds."

On April 24 the troop received orders to resume its march, its next
quarters being at Thermonde, or, as it ought to have been spelt,
Dendermonde. From Dendermonde, on May 1, the troop was ordered to march
to Strytem. Mercer had neither map, nor directions, nor guides, and
his account of the incidents of the march, and the fashion in which
(as though he were exploring some absolutely unknown land) he had to
"discover" Strytem is amusing:--

 "_May 1._--I still slept, when at five o'clock in the morning our
 sergeant-major aroused me to read a note brought by an orderly
 hussar. It was most laconic--_la voici_: 'Captain Mercer's troop of
 horse artillery will march to Strytem without delay. Signed,' &c., &c.

 "Where is Strytem? and for what this sudden move? These were
 questions to which I could get no answer. The hussar knew nothing,
 and the people about me less. One thing was positive, and that was
 that we must be under weigh instanter, and pick out Strytem as best
 we might. The sergeant-major, therefore, was despatched to give
 the alert; and having given the hussar a receipt in full for his
 important despatch, I proceeded to clothe my person for the journey,
 having hitherto been _en chemise_. As the trumpeter was lodged in a
 house close by with my own grooms, the 'boot and saddle' quickly
 reverberated through the village, and set its whole population in
 movement.

 "To my questions respecting Strytem, Monsieur could give no
 satisfactory answers. 'It lay in a very fine country somewhere in the
 neighbourhood of Brussels, and we had better take the road to that
 city in the first instance, and trust for further information to the
 peasantry as we went along.' These people are singularly ignorant in
 this respect, having no knowledge, generally speaking, of any place
 more than two or three miles from home. Monsieur, however, invited me
 to follow him to his study--a small room all in a litter--over the
 gateway, and there, after some hunting amongst books, old clothes,
 &c., &c., he rummaged out the mutilated fragment of an old but very
 excellent map, which he insisted on my putting into my sabre-tache,
 which I did, and still keep for his sake.

 "'Prepare to mount!' 'Mount!' The trumpets sound a march, and waving
 a last adieu to the group at the gate of my late home, I turn my back
 on it for ever perhaps. The men were in high spirits, and horses
 fat as pigs and sleek as moles--thanks to rest, good stabling, and
 abundance of _tref_. Most of the peasants on whom many of our men had
 been billeted accompanied them to the parade, and it was interesting
 to witness the kindness with which they shook hands at parting, and
 the complacency with which, patting the horses on the neck, they
 scanned them all over, as if proud of their good condition.

 "Passing through Lebbeke, we found the three brigades of 9-pounders
 also getting on march, and the whole village astir. The officers told
 us their orders were to march direct to Brussels, and they were fully
 persuaded the French army had advanced.

 "At Assche we found a battery of Belgian horse artillery in quarters.
 Then men lounging about in undress, or without their jackets, without
 any appearance of a move, induced us to believe our own was, after
 all, only another change of quarters--and we were right. The people
 here knew Strytem, which they said was only a few miles distant, to
 the southward of the road we were on. Accordingly I despatched an
 officer to precede us, and make the necessary arrangements for our
 reception; at the same time, quitting the _chaussée_, we plunged into
 a villainous cross-road, all up and down, and every bottom occupied
 by a stream crossed by bridges of loose planks, which to us were
 rather annoying, from their apparent insecurity, as well as from the
 boggy state of the ground for some yards at either end of them.

 "The road became worse than ever--deep, tenacious mud, sadly broken
 up. After marching a short distance we passed a wheelwright's shop;
 then came to a broader space, where stood a small mean-looking
 church, a miserable cabaret, a forge, two very large farm
 establishments, with a few wretched-looking cottages--this our guide
 gave us to understand was Strytem."

At Strytem, where the troop halted for some time, Mercer had an
opportunity of seeing something of the cavalry corps which the Duc de
Berri was forming in the Bourbon interest. The Duc de Berri, according
to Mercer, was a very ill-mannered brute. Says Mercer:--

 "One day I had a good opportunity of seeing this curious corps
 and its savage leader. The former presented a most grotesque
 appearance--cuirassiers, hussars, grenadiers _à cheval_, and
 chasseurs, dragoons and lancers, officers and privates, with a few
 of the new _gardes du corps_, were indiscriminately mingled in the
 ranks. One file were colonels, the next privates, and so on, and all
 wearing their proper uniforms and mounted on their proper horses, so
 that these were of all sizes and colours. There might have been about
 two hundred men, divided into two or three squadrons, the commanders
 of which were generals. The Prince, as I have said, was drill-master.
 A more intemperate, brutal, and (in his situation) impolitic one, can
 scarcely be conceived. The slightest fault (frequently occasioned by
 his own blunders) was visited by showers of low-life abuse--using on
 all occasions the most odious language.

 "One unfortunate squadron officer (a general!) offended him, and
 was immediately charged with such violence that I expected a
 catastrophe. Reining up his horse, however, close to the unhappy
 man, his vociferation and villainous abuse were those of a perfect
 madman; shaking his sabre at him, and even at one time thrusting
 the pommel of it into his face, and, as far as I could see, pushing
 it against his nose! Such a scene! Yet all the others sat mute as
 mice, and witnessed all this humiliation of their comrade, and the
 degradation of him for whom they had forsaken Napoleon. Just at this
 moment one of our troop-dogs ran barking at the heels of the Prince's
 horse. Boiling with rage before, he now boiled over in earnest, and,
 stooping, made a furious cut at the dog, which, eluding the weapon,
 continued his annoyance. The Duke, quitting the unfortunate _chef
 d'escadron_, now turned seriously at the dog, but he, accustomed to
 horses, kept circling about, yapping and snapping, and always out of
 reach; and it was not until he had tired himself with the fruitless
 pursuit that, foaming with rage, he returned to his doomed squadrons,
 who had sat quietly looking on at this exhibition."

As the early days of June passed, and Napoleon was preparing for his
daring leap on the allied forces, the general strain grew more tense.
French spies were busy all through the English and Prussian posts.
Mercer describes a visit paid by a particularly daring spy to his own
post:--

 "It was on the evening of the 15th June, and about sunset or a
 little later, that an officer of hussars rode into the village
 of Yseringen, Leathes being at the time at dinner with me at our
 château. He was dressed as our hussars usually were when riding
 about the country--blue frock, scarlet waistcoat laced with gold,
 pantaloons, and forage-cap of the 7th Hussars. He was mounted on a
 smart pony, with plain saddle and bridle; was without a sword or
 sash, and carried a small whip--in short, his costume and _monture_
 were correct in every particular. Moreover, he aped to the very life
 that 'devil-may-care' nonchalant air so frequently characterising our
 young men of fashion. Seeing some of our gunners standing at the door
 of a house, he desired them to go for their officer, as he wished to
 see him. They called the sergeant, who told him that the officer was
 not in the village.

 "In an authoritative tone he then demanded how many men and horses
 were quartered there, whose troop they belonged to, where the
 remainder of the troop was quartered, and of what it consisted? When
 all these questions were answered, he told the sergeant that he had
 been sent by Lord Uxbridge to order accommodation to be provided for
 two hundred horses, and that ours must consequently be put up as
 close as possible. The sergeant replied that there was not room in
 the village for a single additional horse. 'Oh, we'll soon see that,'
 said he, pointing to one of the men who stood by, 'do you go and tell
 the maire to come instantly to me.' The maire came and confirmed the
 sergeant's statement, upon which our friend, flying into a passion,
 commenced in excellent French to abuse the poor functionary like a
 pickpocket, threatening to send a whole regiment into the village;
 and then, after a little further conversation with the sergeant, he
 mounted his pony and rode off just as Leathes returned to the village.

 "Upon reporting the circumstances to the officer, the sergeant stated
 that he thought this man had appeared anxious to avoid him, having
 ridden off rather in a hurry when he appeared, which together with a
 slight foreign accent, then for the first time excited a suspicion of
 his being a spy, which had not occurred to the sergeant before, as
 he knew there were several foreign officers in our hussars, and that
 the 10th was actually then commanded by one--Colonel Quentin. The
 suspicion was afterwards confirmed, for upon inquiry, I found that
 no officer had been sent by Lord Uxbridge on any such mission. Our
 friend deserved to escape, for he was a bold and clever fellow."




CHAPTER III

QUATRE BRAS


Napoleon's plan for what was to prove the last campaign in his own
wonderful career was daring and subtle. He had to face two armies,
each almost equal in strength to his own; and though the forces of
Blucher and of Wellington were scattered over a very wide front, yet
their outposts touched each other where the great road from Charleroi
ran northwards to Brussels. Napoleon, with equal audacity and genius,
resolved to smite at the point of junction betwixt the two armies, and
overthrow each in turn. The risks of this strategy were immense, for
if his enemies succeeded in concentrating and fighting in concert, he
would be overwhelmed and destroyed--as actually happened at Waterloo.
Napoleon, however, calculated to win by the swiftness and suddenness of
his stroke, destroying Blucher before Wellington could concentrate for
his help, and then, in turn, overwhelming Wellington. By what a narrow
interval that great plan failed of success is not always realised.

Both Blucher and Wellington were off their guard. On June 15, at the
very moment when Napoleon's columns were crossing the Belgian frontier,
Wellington was writing a leisurely despatch to the Czar explaining his
intention to take the offensive at the end of the month. Blucher,
only a few days before, as Houssaye records, had written to his wife,
"We shall soon enter France. We might remain here another year, for
Bonaparte will never attack us." Yet with miraculous energy and
skill, Napoleon, in ten days, had gathered a host of 124,000 men,
over distances ranging from 30 to 200 miles, and held them, almost
unsuspected, within cannon-shot of the allied outposts. On June 15,
while the stars in the eastern summer sky were growing faint in the
coming dawn, the French columns were crossing at three separate points
the Belgian frontier, and the great campaign had begun.

Its history is compressed into three furious days. On the 16th Napoleon
defeated Blucher at Ligny, while Wellington, with obstinate courage and
fine skill, aided by many blunders on his enemy's part, and much good
luck on his own, succeeded in holding Quatre Bras against Ney. On the
17th Wellington fell back before the combined armies of Napoleon and
Ney to Waterloo. On the 18th the great battle, which sealed the fate
of Napoleon and gave a long peace to Europe, was fought. Napoleon's
strategy had fatally broken down. He aimed to separate the English
and the Prussian armies while keeping his own concentrated. The
exact opposite happened. Blucher's bold westward march from Wavre to
Waterloo united the allied forces, while Napoleon's force was fatally
divided--Grouchy, with 30,000 troops, being left "in the air" far to
the east. Napoleon, in a word, suffered the exact strategic disaster he
sought to inflict on his opponents.

We take up the thread of the adventures of Mercer and Battery G as
active operations begin. It offers a curious picture of the distraction
and confusion of a great campaign:--

 "_June 16._--I was sound asleep when my servant, bustling into the
 room, awoke me _en sursaut_. He brought a note, which an orderly
 hussar had left and ridden off immediately. The note had nothing
 official in its appearance, and might have been an invitation to
 dinner; but the unceremonious manner in which the hussar had gone off
 without his receipt looked curious. My despatch was totally deficient
 in date, so that time and place were left to conjecture; its contents
 pithy--they were as follows, viz.:--

 "'Captain Mercer's troop will proceed with the utmost diligence to
 Enghien, where he will meet Major M'Donald, who will point out the
 ground on which it is to bivouac to-night.

'Signed, ----, D.A.Q.M.-Gen.'

 That we were to move forward, then, was certain. It was rather
 sudden, to be sure, and all the whys and wherefores were left
 to conjecture; but the suddenness of it, and the importance of
 arriving quickly at the appointed place, rather alarmed me, for
 upon reflection I remembered that I had been guilty of two or three
 imprudences.

 "First, all my officers were absent; secondly, all my country waggons
 were absent; thirdly, a whole division (one-third of my troop)
 was absent at Yseringen. 'Send the sergeant-major here,' was the
 first order, as I drew on my stockings. 'Send for Mr. Coates' (my
 commissariat officer), the second, as I got one leg into my overalls.
 'William, make haste and get breakfast,' the third, as I buttoned
 them up. The sergeant-major soon came, and received his orders to
 turn out instanter, with the three days' provisions and forage in
 the haversacks and on the horses; also to send an express for the
 first division. He withdrew, and immediately the fine martial clang
 of 'boot and saddle' resounded through the village and courts of the
 château, making the woods ring again, and even the frogs stop to
 listen.

 "The commissary soon made his appearance. 'What! are we off, sir?'
 'Yes, without delay; and you must collect your waggons as quickly as
 possible.' 'I fear, Captain Mercer, that will take some time, for St.
 Cyr's are gone to Ninove.' My folly here stared me full in the face.
 Mr. Coates said he would do his utmost to collect them; and as he was
 a most active, intelligent, and indefatigable fellow, I communicated
 to him my orders and determination not to wait, desiring him to
 follow us as soon as he possibly could. My first enumerated care was
 speedily removed, for I learned that the officers had just arrived
 and were preparing for the march, having known of it at Brussels ere
 we did. The two divisions in Strytem were ready to turn out in a few
 minutes after the 'boot and saddle' had resounded, but, as I feared,
 the first kept us waiting until near seven o'clock before it made its
 appearance. At length the first division arrived, and the animating
 and soul-stirring notes of the 'turn-out' again awoke the echoes of
 the hills and woods. Up jumped my old dog Bal, and away to parade
 and increase the bustle by jumping at the horses' noses and barking,
 as parade formed. Away went the officers to inspect their divisions,
 and Milward is leading my impatient charger, Cossac, up and down the
 court.

 "We had cleared the village and marched some miles well enough, being
 within the range of my daily rides; but, this limit passed, I was
 immediately sensible of another error--that of having started without
 a guide; for the roads became so numerous, intricate, and bad, often
 resembling only woodmen's tracks, that I was sorely puzzled, spite
 of the map I carried in my sabre-tache, to pick out my way. But a
 graver error still I had now to reproach myself with, and one that
 might have been attended with fatal consequences. Eager to get on,
 and delayed by the badness of the roads, I left all my ammunition
 waggons behind, under charge of old Hall, my quartermaster-sergeant,
 to follow us, and then pushed on with the guns alone, thus foolishly
 enough dividing my troop into three columns--viz., the guns,
 ammunition waggons, and the column of provision waggons under the
 commissary. For this piece of folly I paid dearly in the anxiety I
 suffered throughout this eventful day, which at times was excessive.

 "Rid of all encumbrances, we trotted merrily on whenever the road
 permitted, and, arriving at Castre (an old Roman legionary station),
 found there the 23rd Light Dragoons just turning out, having also
 received orders to march upon Enghien. A Captain Dance, with whom I
 rode a short distance, told me he had been at the ball at Brussels
 last night, and that, when he left the room, the report was that
 Blucher had been attacked in the morning, but that he had repulsed
 the enemy with great slaughter, was following up the blow, and that
 our advance was to support him. The road for the last few miles had
 been upon a more elevated country, not so wooded--a sort of plateau,
 consequently hard and dry; but immediately on passing Castre, we
 came to a piece which appeared almost impassable for about a hundred
 yards--a perfect black bog, across which a corduroy road had been
 made, but not kept in repair, consequently the logs, having decayed,
 left immense gaps.

 "The 23rd floundered through this with difficulty, and left us
 behind. How we got through with our 9-pounders, the horses slipping
 up to the shoulders between the logs every minute, I know not; but
 through we did get, and without accident, but it took time to do so.
 About noon, after threading our way through more mud and many watery
 lanes, doubtful if we were in the right direction, we came out upon
 a more open and dry country, close to a park, which upon inquiry
 proved to be that of Enghien. To the same point various columns
 of cavalry were converging, and under the park wall we found Sir
 Ormsby Vandeleur's brigade of light dragoons dismounted, and feeding
 their horses. Here we also dismounted to await the arrival of Major
 M'Donald; and as I looked upon the day's march as finished, deferred
 feeding until our bivouac should be established--another folly, for
 an officer in campaign should never lose an opportunity of feeding,
 watering, or resting his horses, &c. Having waited a good half-hour,
 and no Major M'Donald appearing, I began to look about for some
 one who could give me information, but no staff-officer was to be
 seen, and no one else knew anything about the matter. Corps after
 corps arrived and passed on, generally without even halting, yet all
 professing ignorance of their destination. Pleasant situation this!

 "Sir Ormsby's dragoons were by this time bridling up their horses and
 rolling up their nosebags, evidently with the intention of moving
 off. Seeing this, I sought out the general, whom I found seated
 against a bank that, instead of a hedge, bordered the road. Whether
 naturally a savage, or that he feared committing himself, I know not,
 but Sir Ormsby cut my queries short with an asperity totally uncalled
 for. 'I know nothing about you, sir! I know nothing at all about
 you!' 'But you will perhaps have the goodness to tell me where you
 are going yourself?' 'I know nothing at all about it, sir! I told you
 already I know nothing at all about you!' and starting abruptly from
 his seat, my friend mounted his horse, and (I suppose by instinct)
 took the road towards Steenkerke, followed by his brigade, leaving
 me and mine alone in the road, more disagreeably situated than ever.
 I now began to reflect very seriously on the 'to stay' or 'not to
 stay.' In the former case, I bade fair to have the ground all to
 myself, for although everybody I spoke to denied having any orders,
 yet all kept moving in one and the same direction. In the latter
 case, my orders in writing certainly were to stay; but circumstances
 might have occurred since to change this, and the new order might
 not have reached me. Moreover, it was better to get into a scrape for
 fighting than keeping out of the way, so I made up my mind to move
 forward too.

 "Accordingly I had already mounted my people when Sir H. Vivian's
 brigade of hussars, followed by Major Bull's troop of our horse
 artillery, passed. Bull, I found, was, like myself, without orders,
 but he thought it best to stick close to the cavalry, and advised
 me to do the same, which I did, following him and them on the road
 to Steenkerke. The country about this place appeared more bare and
 forbidding than any I had yet seen in the Pays Bas. Just as we moved
 off, the column of Household troops made its appearance, advancing
 from Ninove, and taking the same direction.

 "It was now that the recollection of my absent waggons began to
 torment me, and I actually feared never to see them again. However,
 there was no help for it now, and I continued onward. A few miles
 farther we crossed the Senne by an old stone bridge, and about four
 in the afternoon arrived at Braine le Comte, almost ravenous with
 hunger, and roasted alive by the burning sun, under which we had been
 marching all day.

 "We found several regiments drawn up in close columns, dismounted
 and feeding. It was somewhere between Enghien and Braine le Comte
 that we met an aide-de-camp (I believe one of the Duke's) posting
 away as fast as his poor tired beast could get along, and dressed in
 his embroidered suit, white pantaloons, &c., &c., having evidently
 mounted as he left the ballroom. This, I remember, struck us at the
 time as rather odd, but we had no idea of the real state of our
 affairs.

 "We had formed up, and were feeding also, but the nosebags were
 scarcely put on the poor horse's heads than the cavalry corps,
 mounting again, moved off, one after the other, and we were
 constrained to follow ere the animals had half finished. Here, as
 before, I could obtain no intelligence respecting our march, the
 direction and meaning of which all I spoke to professed a profound
 ignorance. Whilst halting, Hitchins, slipping into the town, brought
 us out a couple of bottles of wine, the which we passed round from
 one to the other without any scruple about sucking it all out of one
 muzzle.

 "A little hamlet (Long Tour, I think) lay at the foot of the
 hills, the straggling street of which we found so crowded with
 baggage-waggons of some Hanoverian or other foreign corps that for
 a long while we were unable to pass. The cavalry, therefore, left
 us behind, for they broke into the adjoining fields until they had
 cleared the impediment. Although annoyed at being thus hindered,
 I could not but admire the lightness, and even elegance, of the
 little waggons, with their neat white tilts, and as neat and pretty
 _jungfrauen_ who were snugly seated under them. We found the ascent
 of the hills more difficult than we expected, the road, which went up
 in a zigzag (indeed, it could not have been otherwise), little better
 than a woodman's track, much cut up, and exceedingly steep--so much
 so, that we found it necessary to double-horse all our carriages by
 taking only half up at once."

Now, at last, the sullen guns from Quatre Bras began to make themselves
audible. Mercer's gunners were chiefly recruits; they had never yet
heard the deep, vibrating sounds that tell of the shock of mighty
hosts. That far-off call of angry guns stirred their blood and
quickened their march; but the troop reached Quatre Bras only when the
battle ended. Mercer's narrative, however, gives a striking picture of
how a great battle affects everything within sound of its guns:--

 "At length the whole of our carriages were on the summit, but we
 were now quite alone, all the cavalry having gone on; and thus
 we continued our march on an elevated plateau, still covered
 with forest, thicker and more gloomy than ever. At length we had
 crossed the forest, and found ourselves on the verge of a declivity
 which stretched away less abruptly than the one we had ascended,
 consequently presenting a more extensive slope, down which our road
 continued. A most extensive view lay before us; and now, for the
 first time, as emerging from the woods, we became sensible of a
 dull, sullen sound that filled the air, somewhat resembling that of
 a distant water-mill, or still more distant thunder. On clearing
 the wood it became more distinct, and its character was no longer
 questionable--heavy firing of cannon and musketry, which could now
 be distinguished from each other plainly. We could also hear the
 musketry in volleys and independent firing. The extensive view below
 us was bounded towards the horizon by a dark line of wood, above
 which, in the direction of the cannonade, volumes of grey smoke
 arose, leaving no doubt of what was going on. The object of our march
 was now evident, and we commenced descending the long slope with an
 animation we had not felt before.

 "It was here that Major M'Donald overtook us, and without adverting
 to the bivouac at Enghien, of which probably he had never heard,
 gave me orders to attach myself to the Household Brigade, under Lord
 Edward Somerset, but no instructions where or when. I took care not
 to tell him they were in the rear, lest he might order us to halt for
 them, which would have been a sore punishment to people excited as
 we now were by the increasing roar of the battle evidently going on,
 and hoped that by marching faster they might soon overtake us. Just
 at this moment a cabriolet, driving at a smart pace, passed us. In it
 was seated an officer of the Guards, coat open and snuff-box in hand.
 I could not but admire the perfect nonchalance with which my man
 was thus hurrying forward to join in a bloody combat--much, perhaps,
 in the same manner, though certainly not in the same costume, as he
 might drive to Epsom or Ascot Heath. The descent terminated in a
 picturesque hollow, with a broad pool, dark and calm, and beyond it
 an old mill, perfectly in keeping with the scene. The opportunity of
 watering our poor brutes was too good to be missed, and I accordingly
 ordered a halt for that purpose. Whilst so employed, an aide-de-camp,
 descending from a singular knoll above us, on which I had noticed a
 group of officers looking out with their glasses in the direction of
 the battle, came to summon me to Sir Hussey Vivian, who was one of
 them.

 "On ascending the knoll Sir Hussey called to me in a hurried manner
 to make haste. 'Who do you belong to?' said he. I told him, as also
 that the brigade was yet in the rear. 'Well,' he replied, 'never
 mind; there is something serious going on, to judge from that heavy
 firing, and artillery must be wanted; therefore bring up your guns as
 fast as you can, and join my hussars; can you keep up?' 'I hope so,
 sir.' 'Well, come along without delay; we must move smartly.' In a
 few minutes our people, guns and all, were on the hill. The hussars,
 mounted, set off at a brisk trot, and we followed. Alas! thought
 I, where are my ammunition waggons? The hussars, to lighten their
 horses, untied the nets containing their hay, and the mouths of their
 corn-bags, which, falling from them as they trotted on, the road was
 soon covered with hay and oats. We did not follow their example, and
 although dragging with us 9-pounders preserved our forage and also
 our place in the column.

 "By-and-by a large town appeared in front of us, and the increasing
 intensity of the cannonade and volumes of smoke about the trees led
 us to suppose the battle near at hand, and on the hill just beyond
 the town. This town was Nivelle.

 "Beyond the town the ground rose, also in shadowy obscurity, crowned
 with sombre woods, over which ascended the greyish-blue smoke of the
 battle, now apparently so near that we fancied we could hear the
 shouts of the combatants--a fancy strengthened by crowds of people
 on the heights, whom we mistook for troops--inhabitants of Nivelle,
 as we soon discovered, seeking to get a sight of the fearful tragedy
 then enacting. Before entering the town we halted for a moment,
 lighted our slow matches, put shot into our leathern cartouches,
 loaded the guns with powder, and stuck priming wires into the vents
 to prevent the cartridges slipping forward, and, thus prepared for
 immediate action, again moved on.

 "On entering the town what a scene presented itself! All was
 confusion, agitation, and movement. The danger was impending;
 explosion after explosion, startling from their vicinity, and
 clattering peals of musketry, like those lengthened thunder-claps
 which announce to us so awfully the immediate neighbourhood of the
 electric cloud. The whole population of Nivelle was in the streets,
 doors and windows all wide open, whilst the inmates of the houses,
 male and female, stood huddled together in little groups like
 frightened sheep, or were hurrying along with the distracted air of
 people uncertain where they are going or what they are doing. In a
 sort of square which we traversed a few soldiers, with the air of
 citizens, probably a municipal guard, were drawn up in line, looking
 anxiously about them at the numerous bleeding figures which we now
 began to meet.

 "Some were staggering along unaided, the blood falling from them
 in large drops as they went. One man we met was wounded in the
 head; pale and ghastly, with affrighted looks and uncertain step,
 he evidently knew little of where he was or what passed about him,
 though still he staggered forward, the blood streaming down his face
 on to the greatcoat which he wore rolled over his left shoulder.
 An anxious crowd was collecting round him as we passed on. Then
 came others supported between two comrades, their faces deadly pale
 and knees yielding at every step. At every step, in short, we met
 numbers, more or less wounded, hurrying along in search of that
 assistance which many would never live to receive, and others receive
 too late. Priests were running to and fro, hastening to assist at
 the last moments of a dying man; all were in haste--all wore that
 abstracted air so inseparable from those engaged in an absorbing
 pursuit. Many would run up, and, patting our horses' necks, would
 call down benedictions on us, and bid us hasten to the fight ere
 it were yet too late, or uttering trembling and not loud shouts of
 'Vivent les Anglais!'

 "A few there were who stood apart, with gloomy, discontented looks,
 eyeing their fellow-citizens with evident contempt and us with
 scowls, not unmixed with derision, as they marked our dusty and jaded
 appearance. Through all this crowd we held our way, and soon began to
 ascend the hill beyond the town, where we entered a fine _chaussée_
 bordered by elms, expecting every moment to enter on the field
 of action, the roar of which appeared quite close to us. It was,
 however, yet distant.

 "The road was covered with soldiers, many of them wounded, but
 also many apparently untouched. The numbers thus leaving the field
 appeared extraordinary. Many of the wounded had six, eight, ten, and
 even more attendants. When questioned about the battle, and why they
 left it, the answer was invariable: 'Monsieur, tout est perdu! les
 Anglais sont abîmes, en déroute, abîmes, tous, tous, tous!' and then,
 nothing abashed, these fellows would resume their hurried route. My
 countrymen will rejoice to learn that amongst this dastardly crew not
 one Briton appeared. Whether they were of Nassau or Belgians I know
 not; they were one or the other--I think the latter.

 "One redcoat we did meet--not a fugitive though, for he was severely
 wounded. This man was a private of the 92nd (Gordon Highlanders),
 a short, rough, hardy-looking fellow, with the national high
 cheek-bones, and a complexion that spoke of many a bivouac. He came
 limping along, evidently with difficulty and suffering. I stopped
 him to ask news of the battle, telling him what I had heard from
 the others, 'Na, na, sir, it's aw a damned lee; they war fechtin'
 yat an' I laft 'em; but it's a bludy business, and thar's na saying
 fat may be the end on't. Oor ragiment was nigh clean swapt aff, and
 oor colonel kilt just as I cam' awa'. Upon inquiring about his own
 wound, we found that a musket ball had lodged in his knee, or near
 it; accordingly Hitchins, dismounting, seated him on the parapet of
 a little bridge we happened to be on, extracted the ball in a few
 minutes, and, binding up the wound, sent him hobbling along towards
 Nivelle, not having extracted a single exclamation from the poor man,
 who gratefully thanked him as he resumed his way.

 "A little farther on, and as it began to grow dusk, we traversed the
 village of Hautain le Val, where a very different scene presented
 itself. Here, in a large cabaret by the roadside, we saw through the
 open windows the rooms filled with soldiers, cavalry and infantry;
 some standing about in earnest conversation, others seated around
 tables, smoking, carousing, and thumping the board with clenched
 fists, as they related with loud voices--what?--most likely their own
 gallant exploits. About the door their poor horses, tied to a rail,
 showed by their drooping heads, shifting legs, and the sweat drying
 and fuming on their soiled coats, that their exertions at least had
 been of no trivial nature.

 "The firing began to grow slacker, and even intermitting, as we
 entered on the field of Quatre Bras--our horses stumbling from time
 to time over corpses of the slain, which they were too tired to step
 over. The shot and shell which flew over our line of march from time
 to time (some of the latter bursting beyond us) were sufficient to
 enable us to say we had been in the battle of Quatre Bras, for such
 was the name of the place where we now arrived, just too late to be
 useful. In all directions the busy hum of human voices was heard;
 the wood along the skirts of which we marched re-echoed clearly and
 loudly the tones of the bugle, which ever and anon were overpowered
 by the sullen roar of cannon, or the sharper rattle of musketry; dark
 crowds of men moved in the increasing obscurity of evening, and the
 whole scene seemed alive with them. What a moment of excitement and
 anxiety as we proceeded amongst all this tumult, and amidst the dead
 and dying, ignorant as yet how the affair had terminated! Arrived at
 a mass of buildings, where four roads met (_les quatre bras_), Major
 M'Donald again came up with orders for us to bivouac on an adjoining
 field, where, accordingly, we established ourselves amongst the
 remains of a wheat crop.

 "_June 17._--A popping fire of musketry, apparently close at hand,
 aroused me again to consciousness of my situation. At first I could
 not imagine where I was. I looked straight up, and the stars were
 twinkling over me in a clear sky. I put out a hand from beneath my
 cloak, and felt clods of damp earth and stalks of straw. The rattle
 of musketry increased, and then the consciousness of my situation
 came gradually over me. Although somewhat chilly, I was still drowsy,
 and regardless of what might be going on, had turned on my side
 and began to doze again, when one of my neighbours started up with
 the exclamation, 'I wonder what all that firing means!' This in an
 instant dispelled all desire to sleep; and up I got too, mechanically
 repeating his words, and rubbing my eyes as I began to peer about.

 "One of the first, and certainly the most gratifying, sights that
 met my inquiring gaze, was Quarter-master Hall, who had arrived
 during the night with all his charge safe and sound. He had neither
 seen nor heard, however, of Mr. Coates and his train of country
 waggons, for whom I began now to entertain serious apprehensions.
 From whatever the musketry might proceed, we could see nothing--not
 even the flashes; but the increasing light allowed me to distinguish
 numberless dark forms on the ground all around me, people slumbering
 still, regardless of the firing that had aroused me. At a little
 distance numerous white discs, which were continually in motion,
 changing place and disappearing, to be succeeded by others, puzzled
 me exceedingly, and I could not even form a conjecture as to what
 they might be. Watching them attentively, I was still more surprised
 when some of these white objects ascended from the ground and
 suddenly disappeared; but the mystery was soon explained by the
 increasing light, which gave to my view a corps of Nassau troops
 lying on the ground, having white tops to their shakos.

 "Daylight now gradually unfolded to us our situation. We were on
 a plateau which had been covered with corn, now almost everywhere
 trodden down. Four roads, as already mentioned, met a little to the
 right of our front, and just at that point stood a farmhouse, which,
 with its outbuildings, yard, &c., was enclosed by a very high wall.
 This was the farm of Quatre Bras. Beyond it, looking obliquely to the
 right, the wood (in which the battle still lingered when we arrived
 last night) stretched away some distance along the roads to Nivelle
 and Charleroi, which last we understood lay in front."




CHAPTER IV

THE RETREAT TO WATERLOO.


Mercer's battery formed part of the British rearguard in the retreat
from Quatre Bras to Waterloo, and his gunners had some very breathless
and exciting experiences on the road, with the thunder rolling over
their heads and the French cavalry charging furiously on their rear.
Mercer tells the story with great vividness and spirit:--

 "On the Charleroi road and in the plain was a small village
 (Frasnes), with its church, just beyond which the road ascended the
 heights, on the open part of which, between the road and the wood
 towards the left, was the bivouac of the French army opposed to us.
 Its advanced posts were in the valley near Frasnes, and ours opposite
 to them--our main body occupying the ground between Quatre Bras and
 the wood on the left. A smart skirmish was going on amongst the
 hedges, &c., already mentioned, and this was the firing we had heard
 all the morning. Our infantry were lying about, cleaning their arms,
 cooking, or amusing themselves, totally regardless of the skirmish.
 This, however, from our position, was a very interesting sight to
 me, for the slope of the ground enabled me to see distinctly all the
 manœuvres of both parties, as on a plan. After much firing from
 the edge of the wood, opposite which our riflemen occupied all the
 hedges, I saw the French chasseurs suddenly make a rush forward in
 all directions, whilst the fire of our people became thicker and
 faster than ever. Many of the former scampered across the open fields
 until they reached the nearest hedges, whilst others ran crouching
 under cover of those perpendicular to their front, and the whole
 succeeded in establishing themselves--thus forcing back and gaining
 ground on our men.

 "The fire then again became sharper than ever--sometimes the French
 were driven back; and this alternation I watched with great interest
 until summoned to Major M'Donald, who brought us orders for the day.
 From him I first learned the result of the action of yesterday--the
 retreat of the Prussians, and that we were to do so too. His
 directions to me were that I should follow some corps of infantry,
 or something of the sort; for what followed caused me to forget it
 all: 'Major Ramsay's troop,' he said, 'will remain in the rear with
 the cavalry to cover the retreat; but I will not conceal from you
 that it falls to your turn to do this, if you choose it.' The major
 looked rather conscience-stricken as he made this avowal, so, to
 relieve him, I begged he would give the devil his due and me mine.
 Accordingly all the others marched off, and as nothing was likely to
 take place immediately, we amused ourselves by looking on at what was
 doing.

 "Just at this moment an amazing outcry arose amongst the infantry at
 the farm, who were running towards us in a confused mass, shouting
 and bellowing, jostling and pushing each other. I made sure the
 enemy's cavalry had made a dash amongst them, especially as the fire
 of the skirmishers became thicker and apparently nearer, when the
 thing was explained by a large pig, squealing as if already stuck,
 bursting from the throng by which he was beset in all directions.
 Some struck at him with axes, others with the butts of their muskets,
 others stabbed at him with bayonets. The chase would have been
 amusing had it not been so brutal; and I have seldom experienced
 greater horror than I did on this occasion, when the poor brute,
 staggering from the repeated blows he received, was at last brought
 to the ground by at least half-a-dozen bayonets plunged into him at
 once.

 "All this time our retreat was going on very quietly. The corps at
 Quatre Bras had retired early in the morning, and been replaced by
 others from the left, and this continued constantly--every corps
 halting for a time on the ground near Quatre Bras until another from
 the left arrived, these moving off on the great road to Brussels,
 ceding the ground to the new-comers.

 "At first every one, exulting in the success of yesterday--they
 having repulsed the enemy with a handful of men, as it were,
 unsupported by cavalry and with very little artillery--anticipated,
 now our army was united nothing less than an immediate attack on the
 French position. We were sadly knocked down, then, when the certainty
 of our retreat became known. It was in vain we were told the retreat
 was only a manœuvre of concentration; the most gloomy anticipations
 pervaded every breast. About this time Sir Alexander Dickson paid me
 a visit, having just arrived from New Orleans, where he commanded the
 artillery, to be our deputy-quartermaster-general. He only stayed a
 few minutes.

 "As the infantry corps on the plateau became fewer, the fire of the
 skirmishers amongst the hedges gradually relaxed, and at length
 ceased--the Rifles, &c., being drawn, and following the line of
 retreat. At last, about noon, I found myself left with my troop,
 quite alone, on the brow of the position, just by the farm of Quatre
 Bras--the only troops in sight being a small picket of hussars, near
 the village of Frasnes, in the plain below; a few more in our rear,
 but at some little distance, amongst the houses; and a brigade of
 hussars far away to the left (about two miles), close to the wood
 in that quarter. Thus solitary, as it were, I had ample leisure
 to contemplate the scene of desolation around me, so strangely at
 variance with the otherwise smiling landscape. Everywhere mementoes
 of yesterday's bloody struggle met the eye--the corn trampled down,
 and the ground, particularly in the plain, plentifully besprinkled
 with bodies of the slain. Just in front of the farm of Quatre Bras
 there was a fearful scene of slaughter--Highlanders and cuirassiers
 lying thickly strewn about; the latter appeared to have charged up
 the Charleroi road, on which, and immediately bordering it, they lay
 most numerously.

 "In communicating to me the orders of our retreat, Major M'Donald had
 reiterated that to join Lord Edward Somerset's brigade without delay,
 but still he could not tell me where this brigade was to be found.
 Meantime Sir Ormsby Vandeleur's brigade of light dragoons having
 formed up in front of the houses, and supposing from this that all
 the cavalry must be nigh, as one step towards finding Lord Edward I
 crossed the road to the right of these dragoons, and rode towards
 the part where, as before stated, the light was intercepted by trees
 and bushes. On passing through these I had an uninterrupted view of
 the country for miles, but not a soldier or living being was to be
 seen in that direction. As I pushed on through the thickets my horse,
 suddenly coming to a stand, began to snort, and showed unequivocal
 symptoms of fear. I drove him on, however, but started myself when
 I saw, lying under the bush, the body of a man stripped naked. This
 victim of war was a youth of fair form, skin delicately white, and
 face but little darker; an embryo moustache decorated the upper lip,
 and his countenance, even in death, was beautiful. That he was French
 I conjectured, but neither on himself nor his horse was there a
 particle of clothing that could indicate to what nation he belonged.
 If French, how came he here to die alone so far in the rear of our
 lines?

 "I know not why, but the _rencontre_ with this solitary corpse had
 a wonderful effect on my spirits--far different from what I felt
 when gazing on the heaps that encumbered the field beyond. Seldom
 have I experienced such despondency--such heart-sinking--as when
 standing over this handsome form thus despoiled, neglected, and
 about to become a prey to wolves and carrion crows--the darling of
 some fond mother, the adored of some fair maid. His horse, stripped
 like himself, lay by--they had met their fate at once. Returning
 to my troop, I found Sir Augustus Frazer, who had come to order my
 ammunition waggons to the rear that the retreat might be as little
 encumbered as possible, and to tell me that what ammunition was used
 during the day would be supplied by my sending for it to Langeveldt,
 on the road to Brussels, where that to Wavre branches from it.

 "Thus divested of our ammunition, it was evident that our retreat
 must be a rapid one, since with only fifty rounds a gun (the number
 in the limbers), it could not be expected that we could occupy any
 position longer than a few minutes. In the end, this measure nearly
 led to very disagreeable results, as will be seen anon."

Lord Uxbridge--afterwards the Marquis of Anglesey--was a very fine
cavalry leader, a sort of English Murat, with all the dash, activity,
and resource of that famous soldier. But he had too much fire in
his temper for cool generalship. The tumult and shock of battle had
the effect of champagne upon him. It kindled in his brain a sort of
intoxication. So he took risks a cooler-headed soldier would have
avoided. Uxbridge's fiery and audacious daring is vividly reflected in
Mercer's account of how he covered the retreat to Waterloo:--

 "It was now about one o'clock. My battery stood in position on the
 brow of the declivity, with its right near the wall of the farm,
 all alone, the only troops in sight being, as before mentioned, the
 picket and a few scattered hussars in the direction of Frasnes,
 Sir O. Vandeleur's light dragoons two or three hundred yards in our
 rear, and Sir H. Vivian's hussars far away to the left. Still the
 French army made no demonstration of an advance. This inactivity was
 unaccountable. Lord Uxbridge and an aide-de-camp came to the front
 of my battery, and dismounting, seated himself on the ground; so did
 I and the aide-de-camp. His lordship with his glass was watching
 the French position; and we were all three wondering at their want
 of observation and inactivity, which had not only permitted our
 infantry to retire unmolested, but also still retained them in their
 bivouac. 'It will not be long now before they are on us,' said the
 aide-de-camp, 'for they always dine before they move; and those
 smokes seem to indicate that they are cooking now.'

 "He was right; for not long afterwards another aide-de-camp, scouring
 along the valley, came to report that a heavy column of cavalry was
 advancing through the opening between the woods to the left from the
 direction of Gembloux. At the same moment we saw them distinctly;
 and Lord Uxbridge having reconnoitred them a moment through his
 glass, started up, exclaiming, in a joyful tone, 'By the Lord, they
 are Prussians!' jumped on his horse, and, followed by the two aides,
 dashed off like a whirlwind to meet them. For a moment I stood
 looking after them as they swept down the slope, and could not help
 wondering how the Prussians came there. I was, however, not left long
 in my perplexity, for, turning my eyes towards the French position, I
 saw their whole army descending from it in three or four dark masses,
 whilst their advanced cavalry picket was already skirmishing with and
 driving back our hussars. The truth instantly flashed on my mind, and
 I became exceedingly uneasy for the safety of Lord Uxbridge and his
 companions, now far advanced on their way down the valley, and likely
 to be irretrievably cut off.

 "My situation now appeared somewhat awkward; left without orders
 and entirely alone on the brow of our position--the hussar pickets
 galloping in and hurrying past as fast as they could--the whole
 French army advancing, and already at no great distance. In this
 dilemma, I determined to retire across the little dip that separated
 me from Sir O. Vandeleur, and take up a position in front of his
 squadrons, whence, after giving a round to the French advance as
 soon as they stood on our present ground, I thought I could retire
 in sufficient time through his intervals to leave the ground clear
 for him to charge. This movement was immediately executed; but the
 guns were scarcely unlimbered ere Sir Ormsby came furiously up,
 exclaiming, 'What are you doing here, sir? You encumber my front, and
 we shall not be able to charge. Take your guns away, sir; instantly,
 I say--take them away!' It was in vain that I endeavoured to explain
 my intentions, and that our fire would allow his charge to be made
 with more effect. 'No, no; take them out of my way, sir!' was all the
 answer I could get; and accordingly, I was preparing to obey, when up
 came Lord Uxbridge, and the scene changed in a twinkling. 'Captain
 Mercer, are you loaded?' 'Yes, my lord.' 'Then give them a round
 as they rise the hill, and retire as quickly as possible.' 'Light
 dragoons, threes right; at a trot, march!' and then some orders to
 Sir Ormsby, of whom I saw no more that day. 'They are just coming up
 the hill,' said Lord Uxbridge. 'Let them get well up before you fire.
 Do you think you can retire quick enough afterwards?' 'I am sure of
 it, my lord.' 'Very well, then, keep a good lookout, and point your
 guns well.'

 "I had often longed to see Napoleon, that mighty man of war--that
 astonishing genius who had filled the world with his renown. Now
 I saw him, and there was a degree of sublimity in the interview
 rarely equalled. The sky had become overcast since the morning, and
 at this moment presented a most extraordinary appearance. Large
 isolated masses of thunder-cloud, of the deepest, almost inky black,
 their lower edges hard and strongly defined, lagging down, as if
 momentarily about to burst, hung suspended over us, involving our
 position and everything on it in deep and gloomy obscurity; whilst
 the distant hill lately occupied by the French army still lay bathed
 in brilliant sunshine. Lord Uxbridge was yet speaking when a single
 horseman,[6] immediately followed by several others, mounted the
 plateau I had left at a gallop, their dark figures thrown forward in
 strong relief from the illuminated distance, making them appear much
 nearer to us than they really were.

 "For an instant they pulled up and regarded us, when several
 squadrons coming rapidly on the plateau, Lord Uxbridge cried out,
 'Fire!--fire!' and, giving them a general discharge, we quickly
 limbered up to retire, as they dashed forward supported by some
 horse artillery guns, which opened upon us ere we could complete the
 manœuvre, but without much effect, for the only one touched was
 the servant of Major Whinyates, who was wounded in the leg by the
 splinter of a howitzer shell.

 "It was now for the first time that I discovered the major and his
 rocket-troop, who, annoyed at my having the rear, had disobeyed
 the order to retreat, and remained somewhere in the neighbourhood
 until this moment, hoping to share whatever might be going on. The
 first gun that was fired seemed to burst the clouds overhead, for
 its report was instantly followed by an awful clap of thunder, and
 lightning that almost blinded us, whilst the rain came down as if
 a waterspout had broken over us. The sublimity of the scene was
 inconceivable. Flash succeeded flash, and the peals of thunder were
 long and tremendous; whilst, as if in mockery of the elements, the
 French guns still sent forth their feebler glare and now scarcely
 audible reports--their cavalry dashing on at a headlong pace, adding
 their shouts to the uproar. We galloped for our lives through the
 storm, striving to gain the enclosures about the houses of the
 hamlets, Lord Uxbridge urging us on, crying, 'Make haste!--make
 haste! for God's sake, gallop, or you will be taken!' We did make
 haste, and succeeded in getting amongst the houses and gardens, but
 with the French advance close on our heels. Here, however, observing
 the _chaussée_ full of hussars, they pulled up. Had they continued
 their charge we were gone, for these hussars were scattered about the
 road in the utmost confusion, some in little squads, others singly,
 and, moreover, so crowded together that we had no room whatever to
 act with any effect--either they or us.

 "Meantime the enemy's detachments began to envelop the gardens,
 which Lord Uxbridge observing, called to me, 'Here, follow me with
 two of your guns,' and immediately himself led the way into one
 of the narrow lanes between the gardens. What he intended doing,
 God knows, but I obeyed. The lane was very little broader than our
 carriages--there was not room for a horse to have passed them!
 The distance from the _chaussée_ to the end of the lane, where it
 debouched on the open fields, could scarcely have been above one or
 two hundred yards at most. His lordship and I were in front, the
 guns and mounted detachments following. What he meant to do I was at
 a loss to conceive; we could hardly come to action in the lane; to
 enter on the open was certain destruction. Thus we had arrived at
 about fifty yards from its termination when a body of chasseurs or
 hussars appeared there as if waiting for us. These we might have seen
 from the first, for nothing but a few elder bushes intercepted the
 view from the _chaussée_.

 "The whole transaction appears to me so wild and confused that at
 times I can hardly believe it to have been more than a confused
 dream--yet true it was--the general-in-chief of the cavalry exposing
 himself amongst the skirmishers of his rearguard, and literally
 doing the duty of a cornet! 'By God! we are all prisoners' (or some
 such words), exclaimed Lord Uxbridge, dashing his horse at one of
 the garden-banks, which he cleared, and away he went, leaving us
 to get out of the scrape as best we could. There was no time for
 hesitation--one manœuvre alone could extricate us if allowed time,
 and it I ordered. 'Reverse by unlimbering' was the order. To do this
 the gun was to be unlimbered, then turned round, and one wheel run up
 the bank, which just left space for the limber to pass it. The gun is
 then limbered up again and ready to move to the rear. The execution,
 however, was not easy, for the very reversing of the limber itself
 in so narrow a lane, with a team of eight horses, was sufficiently
 difficult, and required first-rate driving.

 "Nothing could exceed the coolness and activity of our men; the thing
 was done quickly and well, and we returned to the _chaussée_ without
 let or hindrance. How we were permitted to do so, I am at a loss to
 imagine; for although I gave the order to reverse, I certainly never
 expected to have seen it executed. Meantime my own situation was
 anything but a pleasant one, as I sat with my back to the gentlemen
 at the end of the lane, whose interference I momentarily expected,
 casting an eye from time to time over my shoulder to ascertain
 whether they still kept their position. There they sat motionless,
 and although thankful for their inactivity, I could not but wonder
 at their stupidity. It seemed, however, all of a piece that day--all
 blunder and confusion; and this last I found pretty considerable
 on regaining the _chaussée_. His lordship we found collecting the
 scattered hussars together into a squadron for our rescue, for which
 purpose it was he had so unceremoniously left us. Heavy as the rain
 was and thick the weather, yet the French could not but have seen the
 confusion we were in, as they had closed up to the entrance of the
 enclosure; and yet they did not at once take advantage of it.

 "Things could not remain long in this state. A heavy column of
 cavalry approached us by the _chaussée_, whilst another skirting
 the enclosures, appeared pushing forward to cut us off. Retreat
 now became imperative. The order was given, and away we went,
 helter-skelter--guns, gun-detachments, and hussars all mixed
 _pêle-mêle_, going like mad, and covering each other with mud, to be
 washed off by the rain, which, before sufficiently heavy, now came
 down again as it had done at first, in splashes instead of drops,
 soaking us anew to the skin, and, what was worse, extinguishing every
 slow match in the brigade. The obscurity caused by the splashing
 of the rain was such, that at one period I could not distinguish
 objects more than a few yards distant. Of course we lost sight of our
 pursuers altogether, and the shouts and halloos, and even laughter,
 they had at first sent forth were either silenced or drowned in the
 uproar of the elements and the noise of our too rapid retreat; for
 in addition to everything else the crashing and rattling of the
 thunder were most awful, and the glare of the lightning blinding.
 In this state we gained the bridge of Genappe at the moment when
 the thunder-cloud, having passed over, left us in comparative fine
 weather, although still raining heavily.

 "For the last mile or so we had neither seen nor heard anything of
 our lively French friends, and now silently wound our way up the
 deserted street, nothing disturbing its death-like stillness save the
 iron sound of horses' feet, the rumbling of the carriages, and the
 splashing of water as it fell from the eaves--all this was stillness
 compared with the hurly-burly and din from which we had just emerged.

 "On gaining the high ground beyond the town, we suddenly came in
 sight of the main body of our cavalry drawn up across the _chaussée_
 in two lines, and extending away far to the right and left of it.
 It would have been an imposing spectacle at any time, but just now
 appeared to me magnificent, and I hailed it with complacency, for
 here I thought our fox-chase must end. 'Those superb Life Guards
 and Blues will soon teach our pursuers a little modesty.' Such
 fellows!--surely nothing can withstand them. Scarcely had these
 thoughts passed through my mind ere an order from his lordship
 recalled us to the rear. The enemy's horse artillery, having taken
 up a position in the meadows near the bridge, were annoying our
 dragoons as they debouched from the town. The ground was heavy from
 the rain, and very steep, so that it was only by great exertion that
 we succeeded at last in getting our guns into the adjoining field.

 "The moment we appeared the French battery bestowed on us its
 undivided attention, which we quickly acknowledged by an uncommonly
 well-directed fire of spherical case. Whilst so employed, Major
 M'Donald came up and put me through a regular catechism as to length
 of fuse, whether out of bag A or B, &c., &c. Although much vexed at
 such a schooling just now, yet the major appeared so seriously in
 earnest that I could not but be amused; however, to convince him that
 we knew what we were about, I directed his attention to our excellent
 practice, so superior to that of our antagonist, who was sending all
 his shot far over our heads. The French seemed pretty well convinced
 of this too, for after standing a few rounds they quitted the field,
 and left us again without occupation. The major vanishing at the same
 time, I sent my guns, &c., to the rear, and set off to join Lord
 Uxbridge, who was still fighting in the street. Our ammunition was
 expended the waggons having been taken away by Sir Augustus Frazer
 at Quatre Bras.

 "On regaining my troop I found Major M'Donald and the rockets with
 it. They were in position on a gentle elevation, on which likewise
 were formed the lines of cavalry stretching across the _chaussée_.
 Immediately on our left, encased in the hollow road, the Blues were
 formed in close column of half-squadrons, and it was not long ere
 Lord Uxbridge, with those he had retained at Genappe, came sweeping
 over the hill and joined us. They were closely followed by the
 French light cavalry, who, descending into the hollow, commenced a
 sharp skirmish with our advance-posts. Soon squadron after squadron
 appeared on the hill we had passed, and took up their positions,
 forming a long line parallel to ours, whilst a battery of horse
 artillery, forming across the _chaussée_, just on the brow of the
 declivity, opened its fire on us, though without much effect. To this
 we responded, though very slowly, having no more ammunition than what
 remained in our limbers.

 "In order to amuse the enemy and our own cavalry, as well as to
 prevent the former noticing the slackness of our fire, I proposed to
 Major M'Donald making use of the rockets, which had hitherto done
 nothing. There was a little hesitation about this, and one of the
 officers (Strangways) whispered me, 'No, no--it's too far!' This I
 immediately told the Major, proposing as a remedy that they should go
 closer. Still there was demur; but at last my proposition was agreed
 to, and down they marched into the thick of the skirmishers in the
 bottom. Of course, having proposed the measure myself, I could do no
 less than accompany them.

 "Whilst they prepared their machinery, I had time to notice what was
 going on to the right and left of us. Two double lines of skirmishers
 extended all along the bottom--the foremost of each line were within
 a few yards of each other--constantly in motion, riding backwards
 and forwards, firing their carbines or pistols, and then reloading,
 still on the move. This fire seemed to me more dangerous for those on
 the hills above than for us below; for all, both French and English,
 generally stuck out their carbines or pistols as they continued to
 move backwards and forwards, and discharged them without taking any
 particular aim, and mostly in the air. I did not see a man fall on
 either side. The thing appeared quite ridiculous, and but for hearing
 the bullets whizzing overhead, one might have fancied it no more than
 a sham-fight.

 "Meanwhile the rocketeers had placed a little iron triangle in the
 road with a rocket lying on it. The order to fire is given, portfire
 applied; the fidgety missile begins to sputter out sparks and wriggle
 its tail for a second or so, and then darts forth straight up the
 _chaussée_. A gun stands right in its way, between the wheels of
 which the shell in the head of the rocket bursts; the gunners fall
 right and left; and those of the other guns, taking to their heels,
 the battery is deserted in an instant. Strange; but so it was. I saw
 them run, and for some minutes afterwards I saw the guns standing
 mute and unmanned, whilst our rocketeers kept shooting off rockets,
 none of which ever followed the course of the first; most of them, on
 arriving about the middle of the ascent, took a vertical direction,
 whilst some actually turned back upon ourselves; and one of these,
 following me like a squib until its shell exploded, actually put me
 in more danger than all the fire of the enemy throughout the day.
 Meanwhile the French artillerymen, seeing how the land lay, returned
 to their guns and opened a fire of case-shot on us, but without
 effect, for we retreated to our ridge without the loss of a man, or
 even any wounded, though the range could not have been above 200
 yards.

 "As we had overtaken the rear of our infantry, it became necessary
 to make a stand here to enable them to gain ground. Major M'Donald
 therefore sent me in pursuit of my ammunition waggons, since all in
 our limbers was expended. Having before sent for these, we calculated
 that they could not now be very far off. In going to the rear, I
 passed along the top of the bank, under which, as I have said, the
 Blues were encased in the hollow road. Shot and shells were flying
 pretty thickly about just then, and sometimes striking the top of the
 bank would send down a shower of mud and clods upon them.

 "The ammunition waggons I found coming up, and was returning with
 them when I met my whole troop again retiring by the road, whilst
 the cavalry did so by alternate regiments across the fields. The
 ground offering no feature for another stand, we continued thus along
 the road. The infantry had made so little progress that we again
 overtook the rear of their column, composed of Brunswickers--some of
 those same boys I used to see practising at Schapdale in my rides to
 Brussels. These poor lads were pushing on at a great rate. As soon
 as their rear divisions heard the sound of our horses' feet, without
 once looking behind them, they began to crowd and press on those in
 front, until at last, hearing us close up to them, and finding it
 impossible to push forward in the road, many of them broke off into
 the fields; and such was their panic that, in order to run lighter,
 away went arms and knapsacks in all directions, and a general race
 ensued, the whole corps being in the most horrid confusion. It was
 to no purpose that I exerted my little stock of German to make them
 understand we were their English friends. A frightened glance and
 away, was all the effect of my interference, which drove many of them
 off."

The retreat came to an end here. The rearguard, without knowing it, had
reached the low ridge running east and west across the Brussels road,
where Wellington had resolved to make his final stand, and where the
greatest battle in modern history was on the morrow to be fought:--

 "We did not long remain idle, for the guns were scarcely loaded ere
 the rear of our cavalry came crowding upon the infantry corps we had
 passed, and which were then only crossing the valley, the French
 advance skirmishing with these, whilst their squadrons occupied the
 heights. We waited a little until some of their larger masses were
 assembled, and then opened our fire with a range across the valley of
 about 1200 yards. The echo of our first gun had not ceased when, to
 my astonishment, a heavy cannonade, commencing in a most startling
 manner from behind our hedge, rolled along the rising ground, on part
 of which we were posted. The truth now flashed on me; we had rejoined
 the army, and it is impossible to describe the pleasing sense of
 security I felt at having now the support of something more staunch
 than cavalry.

 "The French now brought up battery after battery, and a tremendous
 cannonading was kept up by both sides for some time. The effect was
 grand and exciting. Our position was a happy one, for all their shot
 which grazed short came and struck in the perpendicular bank of our
 gravel-pit, and only one struck amongst us, breaking the traversing
 handspike at one of the guns, but injuring neither man nor horse. Our
 fire was principally directed against their masses as we could see
 them, which was not always the case from the smoke that, for want
 of wind, hung over them; then against their smaller parties that
 had advanced into the valley to skirmish with the rearguard of our
 cavalry.

 "Here, for the second and last time, I saw Napoleon, though
 infinitely more distant than in the morning. Some of my
 non-commissioned officers pointed their guns at the numerous cortège
 accompanying him as they stood near the road by Belle Alliance; and
 one, pointed by old Quarter-master Hall, fell in the midst of them.
 At the moment we saw some little confusion amongst the group, but it
 did not hinder them from continuing the reconnaissance.

 "Whilst we were thus engaged, a man of no very prepossessing
 appearance came rambling amongst our guns, and entered into
 conversation with me on the occurrences of the day. He was dressed in
 a shabby old drab greatcoat and a rusty round hat. I took him at the
 time for some amateur from Brussels (of whom we had heard there were
 several hovering about), and thinking many of his questions rather
 impertinent, was somewhat short in answering him, and he soon left
 us. How great was my astonishment on learning soon after that this
 was Sir Thomas Picton! The enemy, finding us obstinate in maintaining
 our position, soon slackened, and then ceased firing altogether; and
 we were immediately ordered to do the same, and establish ourselves
 in bivouac for the night.

 "Thoroughly wet--cloaks, blankets, and all--comfort was out of
 the question, so we prepared to make the best of it. Our first
 care was, of course, the horses, and these we had ample means of
 providing for, since, in addition to what corn we had left, one of
 our men had picked up and brought forward on an ammunition waggon
 a large sackful, which he found in the road near Genappe. Thus
 they, at least, had plenty to eat, and having been so well drenched
 all day, were not much in need of water. For ourselves we had
 nothing!--absolutely nothing!--and looked forward to rest alone to
 restore our exhausted strength. Rather a bore going supperless to bed
 after such a day, yet was there no help for it.

 "Our gunners, &c., soon stowed themselves away beneath the carriages,
 using the painted covers as additional shelter against the rain,
 which now set in again as heavy as ever. We set up a small tent, into
 which (after vain attempts at procuring food or lodgings in the farm
 or its out buildings, all of which were crammed to suffocation with
 officers and soldiers of all arms and nations) we crept, and rolling
 ourselves in our wet blankets, huddled close together, in hope, wet
 as we were, and wet as the ground was, of keeping each other warm.
 I know not how my bedfellows got on, as we all lay for a long while
 perfectly still and silent--the old Peninsular hands disdaining to
 complain before their Johnny Newcome comrades, and these fearing to
 do so lest they should provoke such remarks, as 'Lord have mercy
 on your poor tender carcass! what would such as you have done in
 the Pyrenees?' or 'Oho, my boy! this is but child's play to what we
 saw in Spain.' So all who did not sleep (I believe the majority)
 pretended to do so, and bore their suffering with admirable heroism.

 "For my part, I once or twice, from sheer fatigue, got into something
 like a doze; yet it would not do. There was no possibility of
 sleeping, for, besides being already so wet, the tent proved no
 shelter, the water pouring through the canvas in streams; so up I
 got, and to my infinite joy, found that some of the men had managed
 to make a couple of fires, round which they were sitting smoking
 their short pipes in something like comfort. The hint was a good
 one, and at that moment my second captain joining me, we borrowed
 from them a few sticks, and choosing the best spot under the hedge,
 proceeded to make a fire for ourselves. In a short time we succeeded
 in raising a cheerful blaze, which materially bettered our situation.
 My companion had an umbrella (which, by the way, had afforded some
 merriment to our people on the march); this we planted against
 the sloping bank of the hedge, and seating ourselves under it, he
 on one side of the stick, I on the other, we lighted cigars and
 became--comfortable. Dear weed! what comfort, what consolation dost
 thou not impart to the wretched!--with thee a hovel becomes a palace.
 What a stock of patience is there not enveloped in one of thy brown
 leaves!

 "And thus we sat enjoying ourselves, puffing forth into the damp
 night air streams of fragrant smoke, being able now deliberately to
 converse on what had been and probably would be. All this time a most
 infernal clatter of musketry was going on, which, but for the many
 quiet dark figures seated round the innumerable fires all along the
 position, might have been construed into a night attack. But as these
 gentlemen were between us and the enemy we felt assured of timely
 warning, and ere long learned that all this proceeded as before from
 the infantry discharging and cleaning their pieces.

 "Whilst so employed, a rustling in the hedge behind attracted our
 attention, and in a few minutes a poor fellow belonging to some
 Hanoverian regiment, wet through like everybody else, and shivering
 with cold, made his appearance, and modestly begged permission to
 remain a short time and warm himself by our fire. He had somehow or
 other wandered from his colours, and had passed the greater part
 of the night searching for them, but in vain. At first he appeared
 quite exhausted, but the warmth reinvigorating him, he pulled out his
 pipe and began to smoke. Having finished his modicum and carefully
 disposed of the ashes, he rose from his wet seat to renew his search,
 hoping to find his corps before daylight, he said, lest it should be
 engaged. Many thanks he offered for our hospitality; but what was
 our surprise when, after fumbling in his haversack for some time,
 he pulled out a poor half-starved chicken, presented it to us, and
 marched off. This was a Godsend, in good truth, to people famished as
 we were; so calling for a camp-kettle, our prize was on the fire in a
 twinkling.

 "Our comrades in the tent did not sleep so soundly but that they
 heard what was going on, and the kettle was hardly on the fire ere
 my gentlemen were assembled round it, a wet and shivering group, but
 all eager to partake of our good fortune--and so eager that after
 various betrayals of impatience, the miserable chicken was at last
 snatched from the kettle ere it was half-boiled, pulled to pieces
 and speedily devoured. I got a leg for my share, but it was not one
 mouthful, and this was the only food I tasted since the night before."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 6: That this was Napoleon we have the authority of General
Gourgaud, who states that, irritated at the delay of Marshal Ney, he
put himself at the head of the chasseurs (I think), and dashed forward
in the hope of yet being able to catch our rearguard.]




CHAPTER V

WATERLOO


Mercer's account of Waterloo has much less of literary art and skill
in it than other parts of his book. He plunges the reader, without
warning and without explanation, into the roar of the great fight. His
description of the ground and of the position of the army is thrust,
as a sort of parenthesis, into the middle of the story of the actual
struggle. Mercer's troop was stationed till long past noon in reserve
on the British right. The battle to Mercer was nothing but an incessant
and deep-voiced roar of guns, a vision of drifting smoke, in which
would appear at times dim figures of charging horsemen, or outlines of
infantry squares, edged with steel and flame, and out of which flowed
tiny processions of wounded, trickling backwards over the ridge in
front. About three o'clock, however, the troop was suddenly brought
up to the battle-line, at a point where it was in imminent peril of
giving way. From that moment Mercer was in the smoky, tormented,
thunder-shaken vortex of the great fight, and his description of it is
graphic and impressive in the highest degree.

This is how the morning of Waterloo dawned for Mercer and his gunners:--

 "_June 18._--Memorable day! Some time before daybreak the bombardier
 who had been despatched to Langeveldt returned with a supply of
 ammunition.

 "With the providence of an old soldier, he had picked up and
 brought on a considerable quantity of beef, biscuit, and oatmeal,
 of which there was abundance scattered about everywhere. Casks of
 rum, &c., there were, and having broached one of these--he and his
 drivers--every one filled his canteen--a most considerate act, and
 one for which the whole troop was sincerely thankful. Nor must I omit
 to remark that, amidst such temptations, his men had behaved with
 the most perfect regularity, and returned to us quite sober! The
 rum was divided on the spot; and surely if ardent spirits are ever
 beneficial, it must be to men situated as ours were; it therefore
 came most providentially. The oatmeal was converted speedily into
 stirabout, and afforded our people a hearty meal, after which all
 hands set to work to prepare the beef, make soup, &c. Unfortunately,
 we preferred waiting for this, and passed the stirabout, by which
 piece of folly we were doomed to a very protracted fast, as will be
 seen.

 "Whilst our soup was cooking, it being now broad daylight, I mounted
 my horse to reconnoitre our situation. During the night another troop
 (I think Major Ramsay's) had established itself in our orchard, and
 just outside the hedge I found Major Bean's, which had also arrived
 during the night, direct from England. Ascending from the farm
 towards the ground we had left yesterday evening, the face of the
 slope, as far as I could see, to the right and left, was covered
 with troops _en bivouac_--here, I think, principally cavalry. Of
 these some were cleaning their arms, some cooking, some sitting
 round fires smoking, and a few, generally officers, walking about or
 standing in groups conversing. Many of the latter eagerly inquired
 where I was going, and appeared very anxious for intelligence, all
 expecting nothing less than to recommence our retreat. I continued
 on to the position we had occupied last, and thence clearly saw the
 French army on the opposite hill, where everything appeared perfectly
 quiet--people moving about individually, and no formation whatever.
 Their advanced-posts and vedettes in the valley, just beyond La Haye
 Sainte, were also quiet.

 "Having satisfied my curiosity I returned the way I came,
 communicating my observations to the many eager inquirers I met with.
 Various were the speculations in consequence. Some thought the French
 were afraid to attack us, others that they would do so soon, others
 that the Duke would not wait for it, others that he would, as he
 certainly would not allow them to go to Brussels; and so they went on
 speculating, whilst I returned to my people. Here, finding the mess
 not yet ready, and nothing to be done, I strolled into the garden
 of the farm, where several Life Guardsmen were very busy digging
 potatoes--a fortunate discovery, which I determined to profit by.
 Therefore, calling up some of my men, to work we went without loss of
 time."

It is amusing to notice that Mercer was so busy digging potatoes that
he quite failed to observe that the battle had actually commenced! His
senses were buried in the potato-hillocks! So the regiments fell into
line, the batteries moved off to their assigned places, the French guns
began to speak, and Waterloo had begun; and though Mercer stood on the
very edge of the field, he took no notice of the rise of the curtain on
the great tragedy. He says:--

 "Whilst thus employed I noticed a very heavy firing going on in
 front, but this did not make us quit our work. Shortly after, to my
 great astonishment, I observed that all the bivouacs on the hillside
 were deserted, and that even Ramsay's troop had left the orchard
 without my being aware of it, and my own was left quite alone, not a
 soul being visible from where I stood in any direction, the ground
 they had quitted presenting one unbroken muddy solitude. The firing
 became heavier and heavier. Alarmed at being thus left alone, when
 it was evident something serious was going on, I hastened back and
 ordered the horses to be put to immediately.

 "Away went our mess untasted. One of the servants was desired to hang
 the kettle with its contents under an ammunition waggon. The stupid
 fellow hung the kettle as desired, but first emptied it. Without
 orders, and all alone, the battle (for now there was no mistaking it)
 going on at the other side of the hill, I remained for a few minutes
 undecided what to do. It appeared to me we had been forgotten. All,
 except only ourselves, were evidently engaged, and labouring under
 this delusion, I thought we had better get into the affair at once.
 As soon, therefore, as the troop was ready I led them up the hill on
 the high-road, hoping to meet some one who could give me directions
 what to do."

The tragedy of the battle soon made itself visible, in very dramatic
shape, to Mercer:--

 "We had not proceeded a hundred yards, when an artillery officer
 came furiously galloping down towards us. It was Major M'Lloyd, in
 a dreadful state of agitation--such, indeed, that he could hardly
 answer my questions. I learned, however, that the battle was very
 serious and bloody. Their first attack had been on that part of our
 position where his battery stood; but now the principal efforts
 were making against our right. All this was told in so hurried
 and anxious a manner, that one could hardly understand him. 'But
 where are you going?' he added. I told him my plan. 'Have you no
 orders?' 'None whatever; I have not seen a soul.' 'Then, for God's
 sake, come and assist me, or I shall be ruined. My brigade is cut
 to pieces, ammunition expended, and, unless reinforced, we shall be
 destroyed.' He was dreadfully agitated, and when I took his hand
 and promised to be with him directly, seemed transported with joy;
 so, bidding me make haste, he darted up the hill again, and went
 to receive that death-stroke which, ere long, was to terminate his
 earthly career. I trust before that termination he heard the reason
 why I never fulfilled that promise; for weeks elapsed ere he died,
 no doubt--otherwise he must have set me down for a base poltroon. My
 destiny led me elsewhere. My tutelary spirit was at hand: the eternal
 Major M'Donald made his appearance, and, giving me a sharp reprimand
 for having quitted my bivouac, desired me instantly to return to the
 foot of the hill, and there wait for orders.

 "Sulkily and slowly we descended, and forming in line on the ground
 opposite the farm of Mont St. Jean, with our left to the road, I
 dismounted the men that they might be a little less liable to be hit
 by shot and shells which, coming over the hill, were continually
 plunging into the muddy soil all around us. This was a peculiarly
 dismal situation--without honour or glory, to be knocked on the head
 in such a solitude, for not a living being was in sight.

 "It was while thus standing idle that a fine, tall, upright old
 gentleman, in plain clothes, followed by two young ones, came across
 our front at a gallop from the Brussels road, and continued on
 towards where we supposed the right of our army to be. I certainly
 stared at seeing three unarmed civilians pressing forward into so
 hot a fight. These were the Duke of Richmond and his two sons. How
 long we had been in this position, I know not, when at length we
 were relieved from it by our adjutant (Lieutenant Bell), who brought
 orders for our removal to the right of the second line. Moving,
 therefore, to our right, along the hollow, we soon began a very
 gentle ascent, and at the same time became aware of several corps
 of infantry, which had not been very far from us, but remained
 invisible, as they were all lying down. Although in this move we may
 be said to have been always under a heavy fire, from the number of
 missiles flying over us, yet were we still so fortunate as to arrive
 in our new position without losing man or horse."

Now Mercer at last got a glimpse of the whole landscape of the great
fight. But even when looking at Waterloo, and to an accompaniment of
flying lead, Mercer has an eye for the picturesque, not to say the
pastoral:--

 "In point of seeing, our situation was much improved; but for danger
 and inactivity, it was much worse, since we were now fired directly
 at, and positively ordered not to return the compliment--the object
 in bringing us here being to watch a most formidable-looking line of
 lancers drawn up opposite to us, and threatening the right flank of
 our army.

 "To the right we looked over a fine open country, covered with crops
 and interspersed with thickets or small woods. There all was peaceful
 and smiling, not a living soul being in sight. To our left, the main
 ridge terminated rather abruptly just over Hougoumont, the back of
 it towards us being broken ground, with a few old trees on it just
 where the Nivelle road descended between high banks into the ravine.
 Thus we were formed _en potence_ with the first line, from which we
 (my battery) were separated by some hundred yards. In our rear the
 14th Regiment of infantry (in square, I think) lay on the ground. In
 our front were some light dragoons of the German Legion, who from
 time to time detached small parties across the ravine. These pushed
 cautiously up the slope towards the line of lancers to reconnoitre.

 "The corn, down to the edge of the ravine nearer the Nivelle road
 and beyond it, was full of French riflemen; and these were warmly
 attacked by others from our side of the ravine, whom we saw
 crossing and gradually working their way up through the high corn,
 the French as gradually retiring. On the right of the lancers, two
 or three batteries kept up a continued fire at our position; but
 their shot, which could have been only 4-pounders, fell short--many
 not even reaching across the ravine. Some, however, did reach their
 destination; and we were particularly plagued by their howitzer
 shells with long fuses, which were continually falling about us, and
 lay spitting and spluttering several seconds before they exploded,
 to the no small annoyance of man and horse. Still, however, nobody
 was hurt; but a round-shot, striking the ammunition boxes on the body
 of one of our waggons, penetrated through both and lodged in the
 back of the rear one, with nearly half its surface to be seen from
 without--a singular circumstance! In addition to this front fire, we
 were exposed to another on our left flank--the shot that passed over
 the main ridge terminating their career with us.

 "Having little to occupy us here, we had ample leisure to observe
 what was passing there. We could see some corps at the end near us
 in squares--dark masses, having guns between them, relieved from a
 background of grey smoke, which seemed to fill the valley beyond,
 and rose high in the air above the hill. Every now and then torrents
 of French cavalry of all arms came sweeping over the ridge, as if
 carrying all before them. But, after their passage, the squares were
 still to be seen in the same places; and these gentry, who we feared
 would next fall on us, would evaporate, nobody could well say how.
 The firing still increased in intensity, so that we were at a loss to
 conjecture what all this could mean.

 "About this time, being impatient of standing idle, and annoyed by
 the batteries on the Nivelle road, I ventured to commit a folly, for
 which I should have paid dearly, had our Duke chanced to be in our
 part of the field. I ventured to disobey orders, and open a slow
 deliberate fire at the battery, thinking with my 9-pounders soon to
 silence his 4-pounders. My astonishment was great, however, when our
 very first gun was responded to by at least half-a-dozen gentlemen
 of very superior calibre, whose presence I had not even suspected,
 and whose superiority we immediately recognised by their rushing
 noise and long reach, for they flew far beyond us. I instantly saw my
 folly, and ceased firing, and they did the same--the 4-pounders alone
 continuing the cannonade as before. But this was not all. The first
 man of my troop touched was by one of these confounded long shots. I
 shall never forget the scream the poor lad gave when struck. It was
 one of the last they fired, and shattered his left arm to pieces as
 he stood between the waggons. That scream went to my very soul, for
 I accused myself as having caused his misfortune. I was, however,
 obliged to conceal my emotion from the men, who had turned to look at
 him; so, bidding them 'stand to their front,' I continued my walk up
 and down, whilst Hitchins ran to his assistance.

 "Amidst such stirring scenes, emotions of this kind are but of short
 duration; what occurred immediately afterwards completely banished
 Gunner Hunt from my recollection. As a counterbalance to this
 tragical event, our firing produced one so comic as to excite all
 our risibility. Two or three officers had lounged up to our guns to
 see the effect. One of them was a medico, and he (a shower having
 just come on) carried an umbrella overhead. No sooner did the heavy
 answers begin to arrive amongst us, than these gentlemen, fancying
 they should be safer with their own corps, although only a few yards
 in the rear, scampered off in double-quick, doctor and all, he still
 carrying his umbrella aloft. Scarcely, however, had he made two
 paces, when a shot, as he thought, passing rather too close, down he
 dropped on his hands and knees--or, I should rather say, hand and
 knees, for the one was employed in holding the silken cover most
 pertinaciously over him--and away he scrambled like a great baboon,
 his head turned fearfully over his shoulder, as if watching the
 coming shot, whilst our fellows made the field resound with their
 shouts and laughter."

At this point Mercer indulges in some reflections which illustrate, in
a striking fashion, the confusion of a great battle, and the difficulty
with which even those who are actors in it can describe what took
place. It is not merely that a battle-field, by its area, and the
fashion in which the all-obscuring smoke drifts over it, evades clear
vision and description. The actors in the fight are themselves in such
a mood of excitement, and are so passionately preoccupied by their own
part in the combat and the scenes immediately about them, that no brain
remains sufficiently cool and detached to take in the battle-field as a
whole:--

 "I think I have already mentioned that it was not until some days
 afterwards that I was able to resume my regular journal, consequently
 that everything relative to these three days is written from
 memory. In trying to recollect scenes of this nature, some little
 confusion is inevitable; and here I confess myself somewhat puzzled
 to account for certain facts of which I am positive. For instance,
 I remember perfectly Captain Bolton's brigade of 9-pounders being
 stationed to the left of us, somewhat in advance, and facing as we
 did, consequently not far from the Nivelle road. Bolton came and
 conversed with me some time, and was called hastily away by his
 battery commencing a heavy fire. Query--Who, and what was he firing
 at? That he was himself under a heavy fire there is equally no doubt,
 for whilst we were not losing a man, we saw many, both of his men
 and horses, fall, and but a few minutes after leaving me, he was
 killed himself--this is a puzzle. I have no recollection of any
 troops attempting to cross the ravine, and yet his fire was in that
 direction, and I think must have been toward the Nivelle road.

 "A distressing circumstance connected with this (shall I confess it?)
 made even more impression on my spirits than the misfortune of Gunner
 Hunt. Bolton's people had not been long engaged when we saw the men
 of the gun next to us unharness one of the horses and chase it away,
 wounded, I supposed; yet the beast stood and moved with firmness,
 going from one carriage to the other, whence I noticed he was always
 eagerly driven away. At last two or three gunners drove him before
 them to a considerable distance, and then returned to their guns.
 I took little notice of this at the time and was surprised by an
 exclamation of horror from some of my people in the rear. A sickening
 sensation came over me, mixed with a deep feeling of pity, when
 within a few paces of me stood the poor horse in question, side by
 side with the leaders of one of our ammunition waggons, against which
 he pressed his panting sides, as though eager to identify himself as
 of their society--the driver, with horror depicted on every feature,
 endeavouring by words and gestures (for the kind-hearted lad could
 not strike) to drive from him so hideous a spectacle.

 "A cannon-shot had completely carried away the lower part of the
 animal's head, immediately below the eyes. Still he lived, and seemed
 fully conscious of all around, whilst his full, clear eye seemed
 to implore us not to chase him from his companions. I ordered the
 farrier (Price) to put him out of misery, which, in a few minutes he
 reported having accomplished, by running his sabre into the animal's
 heart. Even he evinced feeling on this occasion.

 "Meantime the roar of cannon and musketry in the main position never
 slackened; it was intense, as was the smoke arising from it. Amidst
 this, from time to time, was to be seen still more dense columns
 of smoke rising straight into the air like a great pillar, then
 spreading out a mushroom head. These arose from the explosions of
 ammunition waggons, which were continually taking place, although the
 noise which filled the whole atmosphere was too overpowering to allow
 them to be heard."

By this time the great French cavalry charges were in full course.
Some 10,000 of the finest cavalry in the world were being flung on the
stubborn British squares, which, as the French horsemen swept round
them, seemed swallowed up in a tossing sea of helmets and gleaming
swords and heads of galloping horses. The spray, so to speak, of that
fierce human sea, was flung on the spot where Mercer and his gunners
stood:--

 "Amongst the multitudes of French cavalry continually pouring over
 the front ridge, one corps came sweeping down the slope entire, and
 was directing its course straight for us, when suddenly a regiment
 of light dragoons (I believe of the German Legion) came up from the
 ravine at a brisk trot on their flank. The French had barely time to
 wheel up to the left and push their horses into a gallop when the
 two bodies came into collision. They were at a very short distance
 from us, so that we saw the charge perfectly. There was no check,
 no hesitation on either side; both parties seemed to dash on in a
 most reckless manner, and we fully expected to have seen a horrid
 crash--no such thing! Each, as if by mutual consent, opened their
 files on coming near, and passed rapidly through each other, cutting
 and pointing, much in the same manner one might pass the fingers of
 the right hand through those of the left. We saw but few fall. The
 two corps re-formed afterwards, and in a twinkling both disappeared,
 I know not how or where.

 "It might have been about two o'clock when Colonel Gould, R.A., came
 to me--perhaps a little later. Be that as it may, we were conversing
 on the subject of our situation, which appeared to him rather
 desperate. He remarked that in the event of a retreat there was but
 one road, which no doubt would be instantly choked up, and asked my
 opinion. My answer was, 'It does indeed look very bad; but I trust in
 the Duke, who, I am sure, will get us out of it somehow or other.'
 Meantime gloomy reflections arose in my mind, for though I did not
 choose to betray myself (as we spoke before the men), yet I could
 not help thinking that our affairs were rather desperate, and that
 some unfortunate catastrophe was at hand. In this case I made up my
 mind to spike my guns and retreat over the fields, draught-horses and
 all, in the best manner I could, steering well from the high-road and
 general line of retreat.

 "We were still talking on this subject when suddenly a dark mass of
 cavalry appeared for an instant on the main ridge, and then came
 sweeping down the slope in swarms, reminding me of an enormous surf
 bursting over the prostrate hull of a stranded vessel, and then
 running, hissing and foaming up the beach. The hollow space became
 in a twinkling covered with horsemen, crossing, turning, and riding
 about in all directions, apparently without any object. Sometimes
 they came pretty near us, then would retire a little. There were
 lancers amongst them, hussars, and dragoons--it was a complete
 _mêlée_. On the main ridge no squares were to be seen; the only
 objects were a few guns standing in a confused manner, with muzzles
 in the air, and not one artilleryman. After caracoling about for a
 few minutes, the crowd began to separate and draw together in small
 bodies, which continually increased; and now we really apprehended
 being overwhelmed, as the first line had apparently been. For a
 moment an awful silence pervaded that part of the position to which
 we anxiously turned our eyes. 'I fear all is over,' said Colonel
 Gould, who still remained with me. The thing seemed but too likely,
 and this time I could not withhold my assent to his remark, for it
 did indeed appear so.

 "Meantime the 14th, springing from the earth, had formed their
 square, whilst we, throwing back the guns of our right and left
 divisions, stood waiting in momentary expectation of being enveloped
 and attacked. Still they lingered in the hollow, when suddenly loud
 and repeated shouts (not English hurrahs) drew our attention to
 the other side. There we saw two dense columns of infantry pushing
 forward at a quick pace towards us, crossing the fields, as if they
 had come from Merke Braine. Every one both of the 14th and ourselves
 pronounced them French, yet still we delayed opening fire on them.
 Shouting, yelling, singing, on they came right for us; and being now
 not above 800 or 1000 yards distant, it seemed folly allowing them
 to come nearer unmolested. The commanding officer of the 14th to
 end our doubts rode forwards and endeavoured to ascertain who they
 were, but soon returned assuring us they were French. The order was
 already given to fire, when luckily Colonel Gould recognised them as
 Belgians. Meantime, whilst my attention was occupied by these people,
 the cavalry had all vanished, nobody could say how or where.

 "We breathed again. Such was the agitated state in which we were kept
 in our second position. A third act was about to commence of a much
 more stirring and active nature."

Now came, and in a dramatic fashion, the summons which brought troop G
into the very front of the fight; and from this point Mercer's story is
clear, sustained, and vivid:--

 "It might have been, as nearly as I can recollect, about 3 P.M. when
 Sir Augustus Frazer galloped up, crying out, 'Left limber up, and
 as fast as you can.' The words were scarcely uttered when my gallant
 troop stood as desired in column of sub-divisions, left in front,
 pointing towards the main ridge. 'At a gallop, march!' and away we
 flew, as steadily and compactly as if at a review.

 "I rode with Frazer, whose face was as black as a chimney-sweep's
 from the smoke, and the jacket-sleeve of his right arm torn open by
 a musket-ball or case-shot, which had merely grazed his flesh. As we
 went along he told me that the enemy had assembled an enormous mass
 of heavy cavalry in front of the point to which he was leading us
 (about one-third of the distance between Hougoumont and the Charleroi
 road), and that in all probability we should immediately be charged
 on gaining our position. 'The Duke's orders, however, are positive,'
 he added, 'that in the event of their persevering and charging home,
 you do not expose your men, but retire with them into the adjacent
 squares of infantry.' As he spoke we were ascending the reverse
 slope of the main position. We breathed a new atmosphere--the air
 was suffocatingly hot, resembling that issuing from an oven. We were
 enveloped in thick smoke, and, _malgré_ the incessant roar of cannon
 and musketry, could distinctly hear around us a mysterious humming
 noise, like that which one hears of a summer's evening proceeding
 from myriads of black beetles; cannon-shot, too, ploughed the ground
 in all directions, and so thick was the hail of balls and bullets
 that it seemed dangerous to extend the arm lest it should be torn off.

 "In spite of the serious situation in which we were, I could not
 help being somewhat amused at the astonishment expressed by our
 kind-hearted surgeon (Hitchins), who heard for the first time this
 sort of music. He was close to me as we ascended the slope, and
 hearing this infernal carillon about his ears, began staring round
 in the wildest and most comic manner imaginable, twisting himself
 from side to side, exclaiming, 'My God, Mercer, what is that? What
 is all this noise? How curious!--how very curious!' And then when a
 cannon-shot rushed hissing past, 'There!--there! What is it all!'
 It was with great difficulty that I persuaded him to retire; for a
 time he insisted on remaining near me, and it was only by pointing
 out how important it was to us, in case of being wounded, that he
 should keep himself safe to be able to assist us, that I prevailed
 on him to withdraw. Amidst this storm we gained the summit of the
 ridge, strange to say, without a casualty; and Sir Augustus, pointing
 out our position between two squares of Brunswick infantry, left us
 with injunctions to remember the Duke's order, and to economise our
 ammunition.

 "The Brunswickers were falling fast--the shot every moment making
 great gaps in their squares, which the officers and sergeants were
 actively employed in filling up by pushing their men together, and
 sometimes thumping them ere they could make them move. These were the
 very boys whom I had but yesterday seen throwing away their arms, and
 fleeing, panic-stricken, from the very sound of our horses' feet.
 To-day they fled not bodily, to be sure, but spiritually, for their
 senses seemed to have left them. There they stood, with recovered
 arms, like so many logs, or rather like the very wooden figures which
 I had seen them practising at in their cantonments. Every moment I
 feared they would again throw down their arms and flee; but their
 officers and sergeants behaved nobly, not only keeping them together,
 but managing to keep their squares close in spite of the carnage
 made amongst them. To have sought refuge amongst men in such a state
 were madness--the very moment our men ran from their guns, I was
 convinced, would be the signal for their disbanding. We had better,
 then, fall at our posts than in such a situation.

 "Our coming up seemed to re-animate them, and all their eyes
 were directed to us--indeed, it was providential, for, had we not
 arrived as we did, I scarcely think there is a doubt of what would
 have been their fate. That the Duke was ignorant of their danger
 I have from Captain Baynes, our brigade-major, who told me that
 after Sir Augustus Frazer had been sent for us, his Grace exhibited
 considerable anxiety for our coming up; and that when he saw us
 crossing the fields at a gallop, and in so compact a body, he
 actually cried out, 'Ah! that's the way I like to see horse artillery
 move.'"

Then follows perhaps the most spirited description of a duel betwixt
guns and horsemen--from the gunner's point of view--to be found in
English literature:--

 "Our first gun had scarcely gained the interval between their
 squares, when I saw through the smoke the leading squadrons of the
 advancing column coming on at a brisk trot, and already not more than
 one hundred yards distant, if so much, for I don't think we could
 have seen so far. I immediately ordered the line to be formed for
 action--case-shot! and the leading gun was unlimbered and commenced
 firing almost as soon as the word was given; for activity and
 intelligence our men were unrivalled.

 "The very first round, I saw, brought down several men and horses.
 They continued, however, to advance. I glanced at the Brunswickers,
 and that glance told me it would not do; they had opened a fire
 from their front faces, but both squares appeared too unsteady,
 and I resolved to say nothing about the Duke's order, and take
 our chance--a resolve that was strengthened by the effect of the
 remaining guns as they rapidly succeeded in coming to action, making
 terrible slaughter, and in an instant covering the ground with men
 and horses. Still they persevered in approaching us (the first round
 had brought them to a walk), though slowly, and it did seem they
 would ride over us. We were a little below the level of the ground
 on which they moved, having in front of us a bank of about a foot
 and a half or two feet high, along the top of which ran a narrow
 road--and this gave more effect to our case-shot, all of which almost
 must have taken effect, for the carnage was frightful. The following
 extract, from a related account of a conscript, translated from the
 French and published by Murray, is so true and exact as to need
 no comment: 'Through the smoke I saw the English gunners abandon
 their pieces, all but six guns stationed under the road, and almost
 immediately our cuirassiers were upon the squares, whose fire was
 drawn in zigzags. Now, I thought, those gunners would be cut to
 pieces; but no, the devils kept firing with grape, which mowed them
 down like grass.'

 "I suppose this state of things occupied but a few seconds, when I
 observed symptoms of hesitation, and in a twinkling, at the instant
 I thought it was all over with us, they turned to either flank and
 filed away rapidly to the rear. Retreat of the mass, however, was
 not so easy. Many facing about and trying to force their way through
 the body of the column, that part next to us became a complete
 mob, into which we kept a steady fire of case-shot from our six
 pieces. The effect is hardly conceivable, and to paint this scene
 of slaughter and confusion impossible. Every discharge was followed
 by the fall of numbers, whilst the survivors struggled with each
 other, and I actually saw them using the pommels of their swords
 to fight their way out of the _mêlée_. Some, rendered desperate at
 finding themselves thus pent up at the muzzles of our guns, as it
 were, and others carried away by their horses, maddened with wounds,
 dashed through our intervals--few thinking of using their swords, but
 pushing furiously onward, intent only on saving themselves. At last
 the rear of the column, wheeling about, opened a passage, and the
 whole swept away at a much more rapid pace than they had advanced,
 nor stopped until the swell of the ground covered them from our
 fire. We then ceased firing; but as they were still not far off, for
 we saw the tops of their caps, having reloaded, we stood ready to
 receive them should they renew the attack.

 "One of, if not the first man who fell on our side was wounded by his
 own gun. Gunner Butterworth was one of the greatest pickles in the
 troop, but at the same time a most daring, active soldier; he was No.
 7 (the man who sponged, &c.) at his gun. He had just finished ramming
 down the shot, and was stepping back outside the wheel when his foot
 stuck in the miry soil, pulling him forward at the moment the gun was
 fired. As a man naturally does when falling, he threw out both his
 arms before him, and they were blown off at the elbows. He raised
 himself a little on his two stumps, and looked up most piteously in
 my face. To assist him was impossible--the safety of all, everything,
 depended upon not slackening our fire, and I was obliged to turn from
 him. The state of anxious activity in which we were kept all day,
 and the numbers who fell almost immediately afterwards, caused me to
 lose sight of poor Butterworth; and I afterwards learned that he had
 succeeded in rising, and was gone to the rear; but on inquiring for
 him next day, some of my people who had been sent to Waterloo told me
 that they saw his body lying by the roadside near the farm of Mont
 St. Jean--bled to death. The retreat of the cavalry was succeeded by
 a shower of shot and shells, which must have annihilated us had not
 the little bank covered and threw most of them over us. Still some
 reached us and knocked down men and horses.

 "At the first charge the French column was composed of grenadiers _à
 cheval_[7] and cuirassiers, the former in front. I forget whether
 they had or had not changed this disposition, but think, from the
 number of cuirasses we found afterwards, that the cuirassiers led
 the second attack. Be this as it may, their column reassembled. They
 prepared for a second attempt, sending up a cloud of skirmishers,
 who galled us terribly by a fire of carbines and pistols at scarcely
 forty yards from our front."

Betwixt the cavalry rushes came little intervals of waiting, while the
broken squadrons re-formed in the valley below, and the breathless
gunners on the ridge renewed their ammunition. These pauses gave the
French skirmishers--who had crept close up to the guns--their chance,
and which were more trying to the British gunners than even the wild
onfall of the horsemen:--

 "We were obliged to stand with port-fires lighted, so that it was
 not without a little difficulty that I succeeded in restraining the
 people from firing, for they grew impatient under such fatal results.
 Seeing some exertion beyond words necessary for this purpose, I
 leaped my horse up the little bank, and began a promenade (by no
 means agreeable) up and down our front, without even drawing my
 sword, though these fellows were within speaking distance of me.
 This quieted my men; but the tall blue gentlemen, seeing me thus
 dare them, immediately made a target of me, and commenced a very
 deliberate practice, to show us what very bad shots they were, and
 verify the old artillery proverb, 'The nearer the target, the safer
 you are.' One fellow certainly made me flinch, but it was a miss;
 so I shook my finger at him and called him _coquin_, &c. The rogue
 grinned as he reloaded, and again took aim. I certainly felt rather
 foolish at that moment, but was ashamed after such bravado to let him
 see it, and therefore continued my promenade. As if to prolong my
 torment, he was a terrible time about it. To me it seemed an age.
 Whenever I turned, the muzzle of his infernal carbine still followed
 me. At length bang it went, and whiz came the ball close to the back
 of my neck, and at the same instant down dropped the leading driver
 of one of my guns (Miller), into whose forehead the cursed missile
 had penetrated.

 "The column now once more mounted the plateau, and these popping
 gentry wheeled off right and left to clear the ground for their
 charge. The spectacle was imposing, and if ever the word sublime
 was appropriately applied, it might surely be to it. On they came
 in compact squadrons, one behind the other, so numerous that those
 of the rear were still below the brow when the head of the column
 was but at some sixty or seventy yards from our guns. Their pace
 was a slow but steady trot. None of your furious galloping charges
 was this, but a deliberate advance at a deliberate pace, as of men
 resolved to carry their point. They moved in profound silence, and
 the only sound that could be heard from them amidst the incessant
 roar of battle was the low, thunder-like reverberation of the ground
 beneath the simultaneous tread of so many horses.

 "On our part was equal deliberation. Every man stood steadily at his
 post, the guns ready, loaded with a round-shot first and a case over
 it; the tubes were in the vents; the port-fires glared and spluttered
 behind the wheels; and my word alone was wanting to hurl destruction
 on that goodly show of gallant men and noble horses. I delayed this,
 for experience had given me confidence. The Brunswickers partook
 of this feeling, and with their squares--much reduced in point of
 size--well closed, stood firmly with arms at the recover, and eyes
 fixed on us, ready to commence their fire with our first discharge.
 It was indeed a grand and imposing spectacle. The column was led on
 this time by an officer in a rich uniform, his breast covered with
 decorations, whose earnest gesticulations were strangely contrasted
 with the solemn demeanour of those to whom they were addressed. I
 thus allowed them to advance unmolested until the head of the column
 might have been about fifty or sixty yards from us, and then gave the
 word 'Fire!' The effect was terrible, nearly the whole leading rank
 fell at once; and the round-shot, penetrating the column, carried
 confusion throughout its extent. The ground, already encumbered with
 victims of the first struggle, became now almost impassable. Still,
 however, these devoted warriors struggled on, intent only on reaching
 us. The thing was impossible.

 "Our guns were served with astonishing activity, whilst the running
 fire of the two squares was maintained with spirit. Those who pushed
 forward over the heap of carcasses of men and horses gained but a
 few paces in advance, there to fall in their turn and add to the
 difficulties of those succeeding them. The discharge of every gun was
 followed by a fall of men and horses like that of grass before the
 mower's scythe. When the horse alone was killed, we could see the
 cuirassiers divesting themselves of the encumbrance and making their
 escape on foot. Still, for a moment the confused mass (for all order
 was at an end) stood before us, vainly trying to urge their horses
 over the obstacles presented by their fallen comrades, in obedience
 to the now loud and rapid vociferations of him who had led them on
 and remained unhurt.

 "As before, many cleared everything and rode through us; many came
 plunging forward only to fall, man and horse, close to the muzzles of
 our guns; but the majority again turned at the very moment when, from
 having less ground to go over, it was safer to advance than retire,
 and sought a passage to the rear. Of course the same confusion,
 struggle amongst themselves, and slaughter prevailed as before, until
 gradually they disappeared over the brow of the hill. We ceased
 firing, glad to take breath. Their retreat exposed us, as before, to
 a shower of shot and shells: these last, falling amongst us, with
 very long fuses, kept burning and hissing a long time before they
 burst, and were a considerable annoyance to man and horse. The bank
 in front, however, again stood our friend, and sent many over us
 innocuous."

Here is a picture of what may be called the human atmosphere of the
battle in its later stages, the high-strung nerves, the weariness, the
exhaustion of passion, the carelessness of close-pressing death, the
fast-following alternation of deadly peril and of miraculous escape:--

 "Lieutenant Breton, who had already lost two horses, and had mounted
 a troop-horse, was conversing with me during this our leisure moment.
 As his horse stood at right angles to mine, the poor jaded animal
 dozingly rested his muzzle on my thigh; whilst I, the better to hear
 amidst the infernal din, leant forward, resting my arm between his
 ears. In this attitude a cannon-shot smashed the horse's head to
 atoms. The headless trunk sank to the ground--Breton looking pale
 as death, expecting, as he afterwards told me, that I was cut in
 two. What was passing to the right and left of us I know no more
 about than the man in the moon--not even what corps were beyond the
 Brunswickers. The smoke confined our vision to a very small compass,
 so that my battle was restricted to the two squares and my own
 battery; and, as long as we maintained our ground, I thought it a
 matter of course that others did so too.

 "It was just after this accident that our worthy commanding officer
 of artillery, Sir George Adam Wood, made his appearance through the
 smoke a little way from our left flank. As I said, we were doing
 nothing, for the cavalry were under the brow re-forming for a third
 attack, and we were being pelted by their artillery. 'D--n it,
 Mercer,' said the old man, blinking as a man does when facing a gale
 of wind, 'you have hot work of it here,' 'Yes, sir, pretty hot;' and
 I was proceeding with an account of the two charges we had already
 discomfited, and the prospect of a third, when, glancing that way,
 I perceived their leading squadron already on the plateau. 'There
 they are again,' I exclaimed; and, darting from Sir George _sans
 cérémonie_, was just in time to meet them with the same destruction
 as before. This time, indeed, it was child's play. They could not
 even approach us in any decent order, and we fired most deliberately;
 it was folly having attempted the thing.

 "I was sitting on my horse near the right of my battery as they
 turned and began to retire once more. Intoxicated with success, I was
 singing out, 'Beautiful!--beautiful!' and my right arm was nourishing
 about, when some one from behind, seizing it, said quietly, 'Take
 care, or you'll strike the Duke;' and in effect our noble chief,
 with a serious air, and apparently much fatigued, passed close by me
 to the front, without seeming to take the slightest notice of the
 remnant of the French cavalry still lingering on the ground. This
 obliged us to cease firing; and at the same moment I--perceiving a
 line of infantry ascending from the rear, slowly, with ported arms,
 and uttering a sort of feeble, suppressed hurrah, ankle-deep in a
 thick, tenacious mud, and threading their way amongst or stepping
 over the numerous corpses covering the ground, out of breath from
 their exertions, and hardly preserving a line, broken everywhere into
 large gaps the breadth of several files--could not but meditate on
 the probable results of the last charge had I, in obedience to the
 Duke's order, retired my men into the squares and allowed the daring
 and formidable squadrons a passage to our rear, where they must have
 gone thundering down on this disjointed line. The summit gained,
 the line was amended, files closed in, and the whole, including our
 Brunswickers, advanced down the slope towards the plain.

 "Although the infantry lost several men as they passed us, yet on
 the whole the cannonade began to slacken on both sides (why, I know
 not), and, the smoke clearing away a little, I had now, for the first
 time, a good view of the field. On the ridge opposite to us dark
 masses of troops were stationary, or moving down into the intervening
 plain. Our own advancing infantry were hid from view by the ground.
 We therefore recommenced firing at the enemy's masses, and the
 cannonade, spreading, soon became general again along the line."

Mercer, so far, had been fighting sabres with 12-pounders, and all the
advantage had been on his side. He had inflicted enormous damage on the
enemy, and suffered little himself. But now the enemy's guns began to
speak, and Mercer's battery was smitten by a cruel and continuous flank
fire, which practically destroyed it:--

 "Whilst thus occupied with our front, we suddenly became sensible of
 a most destructive flanking fire from a battery which had come, the
 Lord knows how, and established itself on a knoll somewhat higher
 than the ground we stood on, and only about 400 or 500 yards a little
 in advance of our left flank. The rapidity and precision of this fire
 were quite appalling. Every shot almost took effect, and I certainly
 expected we should all be annihilated. Our horses and limbers being
 a little retired down the slope, had hitherto been somewhat under
 cover from the direct fire in front; but this plunged right amongst
 them, knocking them down by pairs, and creating horrible confusion.
 The drivers could hardly extricate themselves from one dead horse
 ere another fell, or perhaps themselves. The saddle-bags, in many
 instances, were torn from the horses' backs, and their contents
 scattered over the field. One shell I saw explode under the two
 finest wheel-horses in the troop--down they dropped. In some
 instances the horses of a gun or ammunition waggon remained, and all
 their drivers were killed.[8]

 "The whole livelong day had cost us nothing like this. Our gunners,
 too--the few left fit for duty of them--were so exhausted that they
 were unable to run the guns up after firing, consequently at every
 round they retreated nearer to the limbers; and as we had pointed our
 two left guns towards the people who were annoying us so terribly,
 they soon came altogether in a confused heap, the trails crossing
 each other, and the whole dangerously near the limbers and ammunition
 waggons, some of which were totally unhorsed, and others in sad
 confusion from the loss of their drivers and horses, many of them
 lying dead in their harness attached to their carriages. I sighed for
 my poor troop--it was already but a wreck.

 "I had dismounted, and was assisting at one of the guns to encourage
 my poor exhausted men, when through the smoke a black speck caught my
 eye, and I instantly knew what it was. The conviction that one never
 sees a shot coming towards you unless directly in its line flashed
 across my mind, together with the certainty that my doom was sealed.
 I had barely time to exclaim 'Here it is, then!'--much in that
 gasping sort of way one does when going into very cold water, takes
 away the breath--'whush' it went past my face, striking the point of
 my pelisse collar, which was lying open, and smash into a horse close
 behind me. I breathed freely again.

 "Under such a fire, one may be said to have had a thousand narrow
 escapes; and, in good truth, I frequently experienced that
 displacement of air against my face, caused by the passing of shot
 close to me; but the two above recorded, and a third, which I shall
 mention, were remarkable ones, and made me feel in full force the
 goodness of Him who protected me among so many dangers. Whilst in
 position on the right of the second line, I had reproved some of my
 men for lying down when shells fell near them until they burst. Now
 my turn came. A shell, with a long fuse, came slop into the mud at my
 feet, and there lay fizzing and flaring to my infinite discomfiture.
 After what I had said on the subject, I felt that I must act up to
 my own words, and, accordingly, there I stood, endeavouring to look
 quite composed until the cursed thing burst--and, strange to say,
 without injuring me, though so near. The effect on my men was good."

But was it really a French battery which was wrecking Mercer's guns?
Or, in the mad inevitable distraction of a great battle were the Allied
gunners destroying each other? Mercer's story leaves this point in a
state of very disquieting doubt:--

 "We had scarcely fired many rounds at the enfilading battery, when
 a tall man in the black Brunswick uniform came galloping up to me
 from the rear, exclaiming, 'Ah! mine Gott!--mine Gott! vat is it you
 doos, sare? Dat is your friends de Proosiens; an you kills dem! Ah!
 mine Gott!--mine Gott; vil you no stop, sare?--vil you no stop? Ah!
 mine Gott!--mine Gott! vat for is dis? De Inglish kills dere friends
 de Proosiens! Vere is de Dook von Vellington? vere is de Dook von
 Vellington? Ah! mine Gott!--mine Gott!' &c., &c., and so he went on
 raving like one demented. I observed that if these were our friends
 the Prussians, they were treating us very uncivilly; and that it
 was not without sufficient provocation we had turned our guns on
 them, pointing out to him at the same time the bloody proofs of my
 assertion.

 "Apparently not noticing what I said, he continued his lamentations,
 and, 'Vil you no stop, sare, I say?' Wherefore, thinking he might
 be right, to pacify him I ordered the whole to cease firing,
 desiring him to remark the consequences. Psieu, psieu, psieu, came
 our 'friends'' shots, one after another; and our friend himself had
 a narrow escape from one of them. 'Now, sir,' I said, 'you will be
 convinced; and we will continue our firing, whilst you can ride round
 the way you came, and tell them they kill their friends the English;
 the moment their fire ceases, so shall mine,' Still he lingered,
 exclaiming, 'Oh, dis is terreeble to see de Proosien and de Inglish
 kill von anoder!'

 "At last, darting off, I saw no more of him. The fire continued on
 both sides, mine becoming slacker and slacker, for we were reduced
 to the last extremity, and must have been annihilated but for the
 opportune arrival of a battery of Belgic artillery a little on our
 left, which, taking the others in flank nearly at point blank, soon
 silenced and drove them off. We were so reduced that all our strength
 was barely sufficient to load and fire three guns out of our six.

 "These Belgians were all beastly drunk, and, when they first came up,
 not at all particular as to which way they fired; and it was only
 by keeping an eye on them that they were prevented treating us, and
 even one another. The wretches had probably already done mischief
 elsewhere--who knows?"

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 7: These grenadiers _à cheval_ were very fine troops, clothed
in blue uniforms without facings, cuffs, or collars. Broad--very
broad--buff belts, and huge muff caps, made them appear gigantic
fellows.]

[Footnote 8: "The field was so much covered with blood, that it
appeared as if it had been flooded with it," &c.--Simpson's "Paris
after Waterloo," &c., p. 21.]




CHAPTER VI

AFTER THE FIGHT


Mercer could hardly tell when and how Waterloo began, and he can almost
as little tell when and how it ended! So wild is the confusion, so
overwhelming the excitement of a great battle for the actors in it:--

 "My recollections of the later part of this day are rather confused;
 I was fatigued and almost deaf. I recollect clearly, however,
 that we had ceased firing, the plain below being covered with
 masses of troops, which we could not distinguish from each other.
 Captain Walcot of the Horse Artillery, had come to us, and we
 were all looking out anxiously at the movements below and on the
 opposite ridge, when he suddenly shouted out, 'Victory!--victory!
 they fly!--they fly!' and sure enough we saw some of the masses
 dissolving, as it were, and those composing them streaming away in
 confused crowds over the field, whilst the already desultory fire of
 their artillery ceased altogether.

 "I shall never forget this joyful moment!--this moment of exultation!
 On looking round, I found we were left almost alone. Cavalry and
 infantry had all moved forward, and only a few guns here and there
 were to be seen on the position. A little to our right were the
 remains of Major M'Donald's troop under Lieutenant Sandilands, which
 had suffered much, but nothing like us. We were congratulating
 ourselves on the happy results of the day when an aide-de-camp rode
 up, crying, 'Forward, sir! forward! It is of the utmost importance
 that this movement should be supported by artillery!' at the same
 time waving his hat much in the manner of a huntsman laying on his
 dogs. I smiled at his energy, and, pointing to the remains of my poor
 troop, quietly asked, 'How, sir?' A glance was sufficient to show him
 the impossibility, and away he went.

 "Our situation was indeed terrible. Of 200 fine horses with which we
 had entered the battle, upwards of 140 lay dead, dying, or severely
 wounded. Of the men, scarcely two-thirds of those necessary for four
 guns remained, and these so completely exhausted as to be totally
 incapable of further exertion. Lieutenant Breton had three horses
 killed under him; Lieutenant Hincks was wounded in the breast by a
 spent ball; Lieutenant Leathes on the hip by a splinter; and although
 untouched myself, my horse had no less than eight wounds, one of
 which, a graze on the fetlock joint, lamed him for ever. Our guns and
 carriages were, as before mentioned, altogether in a confused heap,
 intermingled with dead and wounded horses, which it had not been
 possible to disengage from them.

 "My poor men, such at least as were untouched, fairly worn out,
 their clothes, faces, &c., blackened by the smoke and spattered
 over with mud and blood, had seated themselves on the trails of the
 carriages, or had thrown themselves on the wet and polluted soil, too
 fatigued to think of anything but gaining a little rest. Such was
 our situation when called upon to advance. It was impossible, and we
 remained where we were. For myself, I was also excessively tired,
 hoarse to making speech painful, and deaf from the infernal uproar of
 the last eleven hours. Moreover, I was devoured by a burning thirst,
 not a drop of liquid having passed my lips since the evening of the
 16th; but although, with the exception of the chicken's leg last
 night, I may be said to have eaten nothing for two whole days, yet
 did I not feel the least desire for food."

When the battle was over, Mercer's artistic sensibilities--his eye
for landscape, his sense of sky-effects and of natural beauty--awoke.
He was perhaps the only man in Wellington's army who could study
cloud-effects in the night-sky, which looked down on the slain of
Waterloo, or contemplate, with botanical discrimination and approval,
the plants in the garden at Hougoumont the next morning:--

 "The evening had become fine, and but for an occasional groan or
 lament from some poor sufferer, and the repeated piteous neighing of
 wounded horses, tranquility might be said to reign over the field. As
 it got dusk, a large body of Prussian artillery arrived, and formed
 their bivouac near us. There was not light to see more of them than
 that their brass guns were kept bright, and that their carriages were
 encumbered with baggage, and, besides, appeared but clumsy machines
 when compared with ours. All wore their greatcoats, which apparently
 they had marched in. As they looked at us rather scowlingly, and did
 not seem inclined to hold any communication with us, I soon returned
 to my own people, whom I found preparing to go supperless to bed--the
 two remaining officers, the non-commissioned officers, and men
 having all got together in a heap, with some painted covers spread
 under, and others drawn over them--at a distance from our guns, &c.,
 the neighbourhood of which they said, was too horrible to think of
 sleeping there.

 "For my part, after standing all day amongst all these horrors, I
 felt no squeamishness about sleeping amongst them; so pulling down
 the painted cover of a limber over the footboard in the manner of a
 tent roof, I crept under it and endeavoured to sleep. The cramped
 situation in which I lay, and the feverish excitement of my mind,
 forbade, however, my obtaining that sound and refreshing sleep so
 much needed; I only dozed. From one of these dozes I awoke about
 midnight, chilled and cramped to death from the awkward doubled-up
 position imposed upon me by my short and narrow bed. So up I got to
 look around and contemplate a battle-field by the pale moonlight.

 "The night was serene and pretty clear; a few light clouds
 occasionally passing across the moon's disc, and throwing objects
 into transient obscurity, added considerably to the solemnity of
 the scene. Oh, it was a thrilling sensation thus to stand in the
 silent hour of the night and contemplate that field--all day long
 the theatre of noise and strife, now so calm and still--the actors
 prostrate on the bloody soil, their pale wan faces upturned to the
 moon's cold beams, which caps and breastplates, and a thousand
 other things, reflected back in brilliant pencils of light from as
 many different points! Here and there some poor wretch, sitting up
 amidst the countless dead, busied himself in endeavours to stanch
 the flowing stream with which his life was fast ebbing away. Many
 whom I saw so employed that night were, when morning dawned, lying
 stiff and tranquil as those who had departed earlier. From time to
 time a figure would half raise itself from the ground, and then, with
 a despairing groan, fall back again. Others, slowly and painfully
 rising, stronger, or having less deadly hurt, would stagger away with
 uncertain steps across the field in search of succour.

 "Many of these I followed with my gaze until lost in the obscurity of
 distance; but many, alas! after staggering a few paces, would sink
 again on the ground with their entrails hanging out--and yet I gazed!
 Horses, too, there were to claim our pity--mild, patient, enduring.
 Some lay on the ground with their entrails hanging out, and yet they
 lived. These would occasionally attempt to rise, but like their
 human bedfellows, quickly falling back again, would lift their poor
 heads, and, turning a wistful gaze at their side, lie quietly down
 again, to repeat the same until strength no longer remained, and
 then, their eyes gently closing, one short convulsive struggle closed
 their sufferings. One poor animal excited painful interest--he had
 lost, I believe, both his hind-legs; and there he sat the long night
 through on his tail, looking about, as if in expectation of coming
 aid, sending forth, from time to time, long and protracted melancholy
 neighing. Although I knew that killing him at once would be mercy, I
 could not muster courage even to give the order. Blood enough I had
 seen shed during the last six-and-thirty hours, and sickened at the
 thought of shedding more. There, then, he still sat when we left the
 ground, neighing after us, as if reproaching our desertion of him in
 the hour of need."

After the storm of a great battle has rolled away it leaves behind a
wreckage--human and animal--of a very amazing sort; and of the wreckage
of Waterloo Mercer gives a grimly vivid description. The effect is that
of one of Vereschagin's pictures translated into literary terms:--

 "_June 19._--The cool air of the morning lasted not long; the rising
 sun soon burst in all his glory over our bloody bivouac, and all
 nature arose into renewed life, except the victims of ambition which
 lay unconscious of his presence. I had not been up many minutes when
 one of my sergeants came to ask if they might bury Driver Crammond.
 'And why particularly Driver Crammond?' 'Because he looks frightful,
 sir; many of us have not had a wink of sleep for him.' Curious! I
 walked to the spot where he lay, and certainly a more hideous sight
 cannot be imagined. A cannon-shot had carried away the whole head
 except barely the visage, which still remained attached to the torn
 and bloody neck. The men said they had been prevented sleeping by
 seeing his eyes fixed on them all night; and thus this one dreadful
 object had superseded all the other horrors by which they were
 surrounded. He was of course immediately buried, and as immediately
 forgotten.

 "Our first care after this was to muster the remaining force, to
 disentangle our carriages from each other, and from the dead and
 dying animals with which they were encumbered. Many sound or only
 slightly wounded horses, belonging to different corps of both armies,
 were wandering about the field. Of these we caught several in the
 course of the morning, and thus collected, with what remained of our
 own fit for work, sufficient to horse four guns, three ammunition
 waggons, and the forge. Of men we had nearly enough for these at
 reduced numbers, so we set to work equipping ourselves without
 delay. Although supplies of ammunition had been sent to us during
 the action, yet little remained. The expenditure had been enormous.
 A return had been called for yesterday evening just as we were lying
 down to rest, but, fatigued as we all were it was impossible to give
 this correctly. As near as I could ascertain, we must have fired
 nearly 700 rounds per gun. Our harness, &c., was so cut to pieces,
 that but for the vast magazines around us from which we could pick
 and choose we should never have got off the field.

 "Soon after daybreak an officer came from headquarters to desire
 me to send all my superfluous carriages to Lillois, where a park
 was forming, and to inform me that a supply of ammunition would be
 found in the village of Waterloo. Accordingly the carriages were
 sent without delay; but this requiring all the horses, they were
 obliged to make a second trip for the ammunition. Whilst this was
 doing I had leisure to examine the ground in our immediate vicinity.
 Books and papers, &c., covered it in all directions. The books at
 first surprised me, but upon examination the thing was explained.
 Each French soldier, it appeared, carried a little accompt-book of
 his pay, clothing, &c., &c. The scene was now far from solitary;
 for numerous groups of peasants were moving about busily employed
 stripping the dead, and perhaps finishing those not quite so. Some of
 these men I met fairly staggered under the enormous load of clothes,
 &c., they had collected. Some had firearms, swords, &c., and many had
 large bunches of crosses and decorations; all seemed in high glee,
 and professed unbounded hatred of the French.

 "I had fancied we were almost alone on the field, seeing only the
 remains of Major Bull's troop of horse artillery not far from us
 (the Prussians had gone forward about or a little before daybreak);
 but in wandering towards the Charleroi road I stumbled on a whole
 regiment of British infantry fast asleep, in columns of divisions,
 wrapped in their blankets, with their knapsacks for pillows. Not a
 man was awake. There they lay in regular ranks, with the officers and
 sergeants in their places, just as they would stand when awake. Not
 far from these, in a little hollow beneath a white thorn, lay two
 Irish light-infantry men sending forth such howlings and wailings
 and oaths and execrations as were shocking to hear. One of them had
 his leg shot off, the other a thigh smashed by a cannon-shot. They
 were certainly pitiable objects, but their vehement exclamations,
 &c., were so strongly contrasted with the quiet, resolute bearing of
 hundreds both French and English around them, that it blunted one's
 feelings considerably.

 "I tried in vain to pacify them; so walked away amidst a volley of
 abuse as a hard-hearted wretch who could thus leave two poor fellows
 to die like dogs. What could I do? All, however, though in more
 modest terms, craved assistance; and every poor wretch begged most
 earnestly for water. Some of my men had discovered a good well of
 uncontaminated water at Hougoumont and filled their canteens, so I
 made several of them accompany me and administer to the most craving
 in our immediate vicinity. Nothing could exceed their gratitude,
 or the fervent blessings they implored on us for this momentary
 relief. The French were in general particularly grateful; and those
 who were strong enough entered into conversation with us on the
 events of yesterday, and the probable fate awaiting themselves. All
 the non-commissioned officers and privates agreed in asserting that
 they had been deceived by their officers and betrayed; and, to my
 surprise, almost all of them reviled Bonaparte as the cause of their
 misery.

 "Many begged me to kill them at once, since they would a thousand
 times rather die by the hand of a soldier than be left at the
 mercy of those villainous Belgic peasants. Whilst we stood by them
 several would appear consoled and become tranquil; but the moment we
 attempted to leave, they invariably renewed the cry, 'Ah, Monsieur,
 tuez moi donc! Tuez moi, pour l'amour de Dieu!' &c., &c. It was in
 vain I assured them carts would be sent to pick them all up. Nothing
 could reconcile them to the idea of being left. They looked on us as
 brother soldiers, and knew we were too honourable to harm them: 'But
 the moment you go, those vile peasants will first insult and then
 cruelly murder us.' This, alas! I knew, was but too true.

 "One Frenchman I found in a far different humour--an officer of
 lancers, and desperately wounded; a strong, square-built man, with
 reddish hair and speckled complexion. When I approached him he
 appeared suffering horribly--rolling on his back, uttering loud
 groans. My first impulse was to raise and place him in a sitting
 posture; but, the moment he was touched, opening his eyes and seeing
 me, he became perfectly furious. Supposing he mistook my intention,
 I addressed him in a soothing tone, begging he would allow me to
 render him what little assistance was in my power. This only seemed
 to irritate him the more; and on my presenting him the canteen with
 water, he dashed it from him with such a passionate gesture and
 emphatic 'Non!' that I saw there was no use in teasing, and therefore
 reluctantly left him.

 "Returning towards our position, I was forcibly struck by the
 immense heap of bodies of men and horses which distinguished it
 even at a distance; indeed, Sir Augustus Frazer told me the other
 day, at Nivelles, that in riding over the field, 'he could plainly
 distinguish the position of G troop from the opposite height by the
 dark mass which, even from that distance, formed a remarkable feature
 in the field.' These were his very words. One interesting sufferer I
 had nearly forgotten. He was a fine young man of the grenadiers _à
 cheval_, who had lain groaning near us all night--indeed, scarcely
 five paces from my bed; therefore was the first person I visited
 as soon as daylight came. He was a most interesting person--tall,
 handsome, and a perfect gentleman in manners and speech; yet his
 costume was that of a private soldier. We conversed with him some
 time, and were exceedingly pleased with his mild and amiable address.
 Amongst other things he told us that Marshal Ney had led the charges
 against us.

 "I now began to feel somewhat the effects of my long fast in a
 most unpleasant sense of weakness and an inordinate craving for
 food, which there was no means of satisfying. My joy, then, may be
 imagined when, returning to our bivouac, I found our people returned
 from Lillois, and, better still, that they had brought with them a
 quarter of veal, which they had found in a muddy ditch, of course in
 appearance then filthy enough. What was this to a parcel of men who
 had scarcely eaten a morsel for three days? In a trice it was cut up,
 the mud having been scraped off with a sabre, a fire kindled and fed
 with lance-shafts and musket-stocks; and old Quarter-master Hall,
 undertaking the cooking, proceeded to fry the dirty lumps in the
 lid of a camp-kettle. How we enjoyed the savoury smell! and, having
 made ourselves seats of cuirasses[9] piled upon each other, we soon
 had that most agreeable of animal gratifications--the filling our
 empty stomachs. Never was a meal more perfectly military, nor more
 perfectly enjoyed."

By this time the artillery officer in Mercer was exhausted, the
botanist and artist began to emerge, and he strolls off to visit, as
a sort of country gentleman at leisure, the garden at Hougoumont! He
says:--

 "Having despatched our meal and then the ammunition waggons to
 Waterloo, and leaving the people employed equipping as best they
 could, I set off to visit the château likewise; for the struggle that
 had taken place there yesterday rendered it an object of interest.
 The same scene of carnage as elsewhere characterised that part of the
 field over which I now bent my steps. The immediate neighbourhood
 of Hougoumont was more thickly strewn with corpses than most other
 parts of the field--the very ditches were full of them. The trees
 all about were most woefully cut and splintered both by cannon shot
 and musketry. The courts of the château presented a spectacle more
 terrible even than any I had yet seen. A large barn had been set on
 fire, and the conflagration had spread to the offices and even to the
 main building. Here numbers, both of French and English, had perished
 in the flames, and their blackened swollen remains lay scattered
 about in all directions. Amongst this heap of ruins and misery many
 poor devils yet remained alive, and were sitting up endeavouring to
 bandage their wounds. Such a scene of horror, and one so sickening,
 was surely never witnessed.

 "Two or three German dragoons were wandering among the ruins, and
 many peasants. One of the former was speaking to me when two of the
 latter, after rifling the pockets, &c., of a dead Frenchman, seized
 the body by the shoulders, and raising it from the ground, dashed it
 down again with all their force, uttering the grossest abuse, and
 kicking it about the head and face--revolting spectacle!--doing this,
 no doubt, to court favour with us. It had a contrary effect, which
 they soon learned. I had scarcely uttered an exclamation of disgust,
 when the dragoon's sabre was flashing over the miscreants' heads,
 and in a moment descended on their backs and shoulders with such
 vigour that they roared again, and were but too happy to make their
 escape. I turned from such scenes and entered the garden. How shall I
 describe the delicious sensation I experienced!

 "The garden was an ordinary one, but pretty--long straight walks
 of turf overshadowed by fruit-trees, and between these beds of
 vegetables, the whole enclosed by a tolerably high brick wall. Is
 it necessary to define my sensations? Is it possible that I am not
 understood at once? Listen, then. For the last three days I have
 been in a constant state of excitement--in a perfect fever. My eyes
 have beheld nought but war in all its horrors--my ears have been
 assailed by a continued roar of cannon and cracking of musketry, the
 shouts of multitudes and the lamentations of war's victims. Suddenly
 and unexpectedly I find myself in solitude, pacing a green avenue,
 my eyes refreshed by the cool verdure of trees and shrubs; my ears
 soothed by the melody of feathered songsters--yea, of sweet Philomel
 herself--and the pleasing hum of insects sporting in the genial
 sunshine. Is there nothing in this to excite emotion? Nature in
 repose is always lovely: here, and under such circumstances, she was
 delicious. Long I rambled in this garden, up one walk, down another,
 and thought I could dwell here contented for ever.

 "Nothing recalled the presence of war except the loop-holed wall
 and two or three dead Guardsmen[10]; but the first caused no
 interruption, and these last lay so concealed amongst the exuberant
 vegetation of turnips and cabbages, &c., that, after coming from
 the field of death without, their pale and silent forms but little
 deteriorated my enjoyment. The leaves were green, roses and other
 flowers bloomed forth in all their sweetness, and the very turf when
 crushed by my feet smelt fresh and pleasant. There was but little of
 disorder visible to tell of what had been enacted here. I imagine it
 must have been assailed by infantry alone; and the havoc amongst the
 trees without made by our artillery posted on the hill above to cover
 the approach to it--principally, perhaps, by Bull's howitzer battery.

 "I had satisfied my curiosity at Hougoumont, and was retracing my
 steps up the hill when my attention was called to a group of wounded
 Frenchmen by the calm, dignified, and soldier-like oration addressed
 by one of them to the rest. I cannot, like Livy, compose a fine
 harangue for my hero, and, of course, I could not retain the precise
 words, but the import of them was to exhort them to bear their
 sufferings with fortitude; not to repine, like women or children,
 at what every soldier should have made up his mind to suffer as the
 fortune of war, but above all, to remember that they were surrounded
 by Englishmen, before whom they ought to be doubly careful not to
 disgrace themselves by displaying such an unsoldier-like want of
 fortitude.

 "The speaker was sitting on the ground, with his lance stuck upright
 beside him--an old veteran, with a thick, bushy, grizzly beard,
 countenance like a lion--a lancer of the Old Guard, and no doubt had
 fought in many a field. One hand was flourished in the air as he
 spoke, the other, severed at the wrist, lay on the earth beside him;
 one ball (case-shot, probably) had entered his body, another had
 broken his leg. His suffering, after a night of exposure so mangled,
 must have been great; yet he betrayed it not. His bearing was that
 of a Roman, or perhaps of an Indian warrior, and I could fancy him
 concluding appropriately his speech in the words of the Mexican king,
 'And I too; am I on a bed of roses?'

 "In passing Bull's bivouac it was my fate to witness another very
 interesting scene. A wounded hussar had somehow or other found his
 way there from another part of the field, and exhausted by the
 exertion, had just fainted. Some of those collected round him cried
 out for water, and a young driver, who, being outside the throng,
 had not yet seen the sufferer, seized a canteen and ran away to fill
 it. Whilst he was absent the hussar so far recovered as to be able
 to sit up. The driver returned at this moment, and pushing aside
 his comrades, knelt down to enable the hussar to drink, holding the
 canteen to his lips, and in so doing recognised a brother whom he not
 seen for years. His emotion was extreme, as may be supposed."

From the narrative of the march to Paris which followed Waterloo, we
take only one incident. Mercer is at Nivelles, watching the crowds and
the excitement in the streets:--

 "Suddenly a loud shout announces something extraordinary even on
 this day of excitement. Every one hurries to the spot, pushing each
 other, jumping, shouting. 'What can it mean?' I inquired. 'Monsieur
 l'Officier, c'est un convoi des prisonniers que vient d'arriver,'
 replied my man, doffing at the same time his _bonnet de nuit_ and
 making a most respectful salaam. I stopped to see the convoy pass.
 The prisoners, dressed in grey _capotes_ and _bonnets de fourrage_,
 marched steadily on. Some _vieux moustaches_ look very grave, and
 cast about furious glances at the noisy crowd which follows them with
 the perseverance of a swarm of mosquitoes, _sacré_-ing and venting
 all kind of illiberal abuse on them and the b-- of an Emperor. Many,
 however, younger men, laugh, joke, and return their abuse with
 interest, whilst the soldiers of the escort (English) march doggedly
 along, pushing aside the more forward of the throng, and apparently
 as if only marching round a relief.

 "At noon arrived in the neighbourhood of Mons, where we overtook
 the Greys, Inniskillings, Ross's troop of horse artillery, and
 several other corps, both of cavalry and infantry. We had, in
 short, now rejoined the army. The Greys and the Inniskillings were
 mere wrecks--the former, I think, did not muster 200 men, and the
 latter, with no greater strength, presented a sad spectacle of
 disorganisation and bad discipline; they had lost more than half
 their appointments. Some had helmets, some had none; many had the
 skull-cap, but with the crest cut or broken off; some were on their
 own large horses, others on little ones they had picked up; belts
 there were on some; many were without, not only belts, but also
 canteens and haversacks. The enemy surely had not effected in a
 single day so complete a disorganisation, and I shrewdly suspect
 these rollicking Paddies of having mainly spoilt themselves. The
 other corps all looked remarkably well, although they, too, had
 partaken in the fight.

 "We crossed after the Greys, and came with them on the main road to
 Maubeuge at the moment a Highland regiment (perhaps the 92nd), which
 had come through Mons, was passing. The moment the Highlanders saw
 the Greys an electrifying cheer burst spontaneously from the column,
 which was answered as heartily; and on reaching the road the two
 columns became blended for a few minutes--the Highlanders running
 to shake hands with their brave associates in the late battle. This
 little burst of feeling was delightful--everybody felt it; and
 although two or three general officers were present, none interfered
 to prevent or to censure this breach of discipline."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 9: "Here were more cuirasses than men, for the wounded (who
could move), divesting themselves of its encumbrance, had made their
escape, leaving their armour on the ground where they had fallen."]

[Footnote 10: In some accounts of the battle and visits to the field,
&c., it has been stated that this garden was a scene of slaughter.
Totally untrue! As I have stated in the text, I did not see above two
or three altogether. There certainly might have been more concealed
amongst the vegetation, but they could not have been many.]




INDEX


  Adams, General, 126, 136

  ---- Sergeant-Major, 230

  Adour, river, 253, 254

  ---- valley of the, 264, 269

  _Adventure_, transport, 316

  Agueda, river, 88

  Ainhoe, the heights of, 260, 261

  Alba de Tormes, 55

  Albuera, battle of, 41;
    Beresford at, 277

  Alexander, Emperor, 314

  Allenquer, town, 34, 37

  Alost, 327

  Alton, General Count, 57, 114, 115;
    at Salamanca, 71;
    at Quatre Bras, 122, 123;
    at Waterloo, 128

  Andover, 149, 150

  Anglesey, Marquis of, _see_ under Uxbridge, Lord

  Arenas, 59

  Arinez, 75

  Armstrong, ----, 219

  Arruda, 35

  Ascot Heath, 344

  Assche, 330

  Astorga, 179

  Atalya, 52

  Auchmuty, General, 147

  Austrian Emperor, 314


  Badajos, 5, 41, 86, 104, 225;
    the great breach at, 11, 25, 215;
    the siege of, 95 _sqq._

  Baker, ----, 211, 213

  Barnard, Sir Andrew, at Quatre Bras, 120, 121, 124;
    at Waterloo, 125, 127, 132;
    in Spain, 232

  ---- Colonel, 82;
    at Vittoria, 75, 76;
    at Ciudad Rodrigo, 93;
    at Badajos, 98, 99, 102;
    in the Pyrenees, 108, 110

  Barnes, Sir Edward, 20

  Barossa, battle of, 223

  Bath, 149

  Bathala, convent of, 34

  Bawdsey, 317

  Bay of Biscay, 111, 265

  Baynes, Captain, 385

  Bayonne, 109, 111, 266;
    the fighting before, 113, 263, 264

  Bean, Major, 371

  Beckwith, Sir Sidney at Sabugal, 63, 64, 65

  Belgian skirmishers, 291;
    allies, 120, 300, 302, 322;
    horse artillery, 330

  Bell, ----, 230

  ---- Lieutenant, 374

  Benevento, 188

  Bengal Horse Artillery, 16

  Bera, village of, 105, 106, 107

  Beresford, Marshal, at Salamanca, 71;
    sketch of, 210-213;
    at Orthez, 266;
    at Toulouse, 276 _sqq._

  Berri, Duc de, 331

  Bidassoa, river, 105;
    passage of the, 81, 107, 108

  Blandford Downs, 143, 144

  Blucher, Prince, interviewed by Wellington at Ligny, 120;
    his defeat at Ligny, 123, 336;
    retreats to Wavre, 124;
    at Waterloo, 311;
    at Quatre Bras, 335 _sqq._

  Bock, General, 74

  Boer and Highlander in South Africa, 12

  Bolton, Captain, 378, 379

  "Boney's Invincibles," 168

  Braine le Comte, 341

  Brander, Lieutenant, 263

  Breton, Lieutenant, 391, 398

  Brooks, James, 197 _sqq._

  Brotherwood, ----, 168,171

  Brunswick, Duke of, 117, 119

  Brunswick allies at Quatre Bras, 292;
    at Waterloo, 364, 384 _sqq._

  Brussels, 116, 117, 287 _sqq._, 298, 305, 315, 330, 364, 366, 372;
    Duchess of Richmond's ball at, 118, 287

  Buenos Ayres, the fiasco at, 142, 147, 309

  Bull, Major, 341, 403

  Bunbury, Lieutenant, 156

  Burgos, the retreat from, 18, 41, 54, 55

  Burrard, Sir Harry, supersedes Sir Arthur Wellesley, 153, 154, 163;
    at Vimiero, 215

  Busaco, battle of, 31

  Butterworth, Gunner, 387


  Cadiz, 153

  Cameron, Colonel, at Ciudad Rodrigo, 89, 93, 98;
    at Badajos, 102;
    at Waterloo, 132

  Campbell, Sir Colin, 102

  ---- Captain, at Toulouse, 281, 282;
    at Quatre Bras (Brevet-Major), 293, 294

  Cardo, ----, 177

  Caridad, convent of, 58

  Cashel, 148, 149

  Castanos, General, 70

  Castre, 339

  Ceira, passage of the, 49

  Charleroi road, 335, 349, 350, 383, 403

  Chatham, Earl of, 28

  Chelsea, 212

  Chichester, 145, 147

  Ciudad Rodrigo, 5, 25, 41, 52, 58, 98;
    leader of the forlorn hope at, 6, 10;
    Marmont marches to the relief of, 53;
    the storming of, 86 _sqq._

  Clichy, 312

  Clinton, Sir Henry, 309

  Clonmel, 149

  Coa, 51;
    river, 63

  Coates, ----, 337, 338, 349

  Cochan, Mrs., 161, 162

  Coimbra, 30, 33

  Colborne, Colonel, 87

  Colchester Barracks, 311

  Cole, Sir Lowry, 113, 115

  Combermere, Lord, 72

  Condacia, 33, 48

  Cooke, Colonel, 84

  Copenhagen, expedition to, 151, 228

  Cork, 154, 228, 287

  Corunna, Moore's retreat to, 6, 142, 178 _sqq._, 223, 227, 228, 313;
    sufferings of the retreat, 194 _sqq._

  Cowel, Major, 268

  Cox, Lieutenant, 152, 200, 206

  Crammond, Driver, 401

  Craufurd, General, 141 _sqq._;
    in Buenos Ayres, 147;
    in the retreat to Corunna, 179 _sqq._, 230;
    described by a private who served under him, 215 _sqq._

  Crosby, Sergeant-Major, 230

  Cuesta, General, 83

  Cunningham, Corporal, 255, 256

  Czar, Wellington's despatch to the, 335


  Dalheath, near Falkirk, 25

  Dalrymple, Sir Hew, 154, 215

  Dance, Captain, 339

  Davidson, Brevet-Major, 293

  Deben, river, 317

  Demon, ----, 230 _sqq._

  Denburn, river, 239

  Dendermonde, 329

  D'Erlon, General, at Waterloo, 129, 299, 300

  Devine, ----, 225, 226

  Dick, Colonel, 293

  Dickson, Captain, 147

  ---- Sir Alexander, 352

  Doury, -----, 271, 272

  Downs, the, 28

  Drummond, Major, 320

  Dundas, Sir David, 47

  Dutch troops at Waterloo, 300


  Ebro, valley of the, 59

  Echelar, mountain, 107

  Elba, 116, 143, 311

  Eleder, Captain, 147

  Elvas, 96, 102

  Enghien, 337, 339, 341, 343

  Epsom, 344

  Ers, river, 277

  Erskine, Sir William, 63, 64

  Essling, Prince of, 36


  Fane, General, 164, 168

  Farquharson, Lieut. D., 248, 284

  Fermoy, 226

  Fez d'Aronce, 49

  Figuera, Bay of, 29

  Flinn, Rifleman, 65

  Flushing, 226, 227

  Fontainebleau, 116

  Franklin, ----, 189, 190

  Fraser, Sergeant, 158, 159

  Fraser, ----, 248

  Frasnes, village of, 350, 352

  Frazer, Sir Augustus, 21, 354, 362, 382;
    at Waterloo, 383, 384, 385, 405

  Freire, General, 82, 276

  Fuentes d'Onore, battle of, 25, 41, 52, 66

  Fyfe, Smith, 295


  Garges, 314

  Gave, river, 265

  Gembloux, 355

  Genappe, 119, 124, 360, 362, 366

  German Legion, 189;
    at Waterloo, 375, 380

  Ghent, 242, 320, 327

  Ghystelle, 320

  Gibraltar, 230

  Gosport, 145

  Gould, Colonel, 381, 382

  Gourgaud, General (quoted), 357

  Graham, Sir Thomas, at Vittoria, 79, 81;
    at Ciudad Rodrigo, 88;
    at San Sebastian, 106, 230

  Gramont, 311

  Great Rhune, 81

  Gregory, Lieut.-Colonel, 320

  Grouchy, General, 336

  Guarda, 51

  Guardiana, river, 96, 102

  Guards at Quatre Bras, 289 _sqq._


  Hall, Quarter-master, 348, 366, 405

  Hart, Captain, 225, 226

  Hart, the brothers John, Mike, and Peter, 226, 227, 228

  Harwich, 315, 316

  Hautain le Val, 347

  Henderson, ----, 271, 272

  Higgins, Thomas, 187, 223, 224

  Hill, Sir Dudley, 199

  ---- Sir Rowland, 75-78, 115

  ---- General (afterwards Lord Hill), at Roliça, 158;
    "Farmer" Hill described, 209, 210;
    at Orthez, 269;
    at Toulouse, 276

  ---- Lieutenant, 184, 185, 191

  ---- Captain, 318, 319

  Hilsea barracks, 145, 146

  Hincks, Lieutenant, 398

  Hitchins, Surgeon, 342, 347, 377, 383

  Holland, expedition to, 28

  Hope, Sir John, 81

  Hopewood, ----, 114

  Hopwood, Lieutenant, 171

  Hougoumont, 128, 300 _sqq._, 375, 383, 403;
    the garden of, 14, 399, 406, 408;
    the attack on, 129

  Houssaye (quoted), 15, 336

  Howans, Dan, 216 _sqq._

  Huerta, 74

  Hunt, Gunner, 377, 379

  _Hussar_, frigate, 28

  Hythe, 29, 224, 225, 229, 232

  ---- barracks, 28


  Innes, Lieutenant, 269

  Inniskilling Dragoons at Waterloo, 129, 299 _sqq._, 410

  Isle of Wight, 145


  Jackman, ----, 226

  Jagger, Ben, 216

  Janca, 107

  Jenkinson, Captain, 71

  Junot, General, 40, 163


  Kellerman, General, 169

  Kempt, Sir James, 80, 114, 115;
    at Waterloo, 131, 300

  Knight, ----, 65


  La Belle Alliance, 15, 136, 300, 365

  La Haye Sainte, 125, 126, 133, 300 _sqq._, 372

  La Rhune, 111, 112

  Ladysmith, 104

  Lake, Colonel, 157

  Lambert, Sir John, 132, 135

  Landguard fort, 316

  Langeveldt, 354, 371

  Latta, Ensign, 284

  Le Secca, 106

  Leathes, Lieutenant, 333, 398

  Lebbeke, 330

  Leech, Captain, 152, 161, 164, 165

  Lefebvre, General, 186, 189

  Leith, 95, 116

  Leria, 34

  Life Guards at Quatre Bras, 124;
    at Waterloo, 129, 131, 299, 361, 372, 410

  Light Division, the (Craufurd's), 6, 7, 25, 215;
    the light regiment of the, 32;
    at Sabugal, 63;
    at Fuentes d'Onore, 66;
    at Orthez, 266

  Ligny, 120;
    the battle of, 123, 336

  Lillois, 402, 405

  Lisbon, 29, 39, 40, 232, 233

  Liston, Corporal Robert, 211, 212

  Little Rhune, 82

  Livy, 408

  Loison, General, 50

  Louis XVIII., flees from Paris, 116;
    holds court at Ghent, 327, 328

  Low, John, 167


  Macara, Sir Robert, 293

  M'Donald, Major, at Quatre Bras,
  337 _sqq._;
    in the retreat to Waterloo, 351 _sqq._;
    at Waterloo, 374 _sqq._, 397

  M'Dougall, Lieut. Kenneth, 261

  M'Guire, Mrs., 193

  M'Kenzie, Lieutenant, 284

  Mackenzie, General, 231

  McLauchlan, Patrick, 184, 185

  M'Lloyd, Major, 373

  M'Namara, ----, 268

  M'Pherson, Captain Mungo, 261

  Mahone, Patrick, 171

  Maine, boundary line dispute, 310

  Manningtree, 316

  Marmont, General, 52, 86, 329;
    at Salamanca, 70, 72

  Massena, Marshal, 25, 30, 46, 63;
    before Torres Vedras, 33;
    pursued by Wellington, 37;
    retreats from Torres Vedras, 62

  Maubeuge, 410

  Maya, Pass of, 106

  Mayberry, Sergeant Thomas, 224, 225, 226

  Medley, ----, 222, 223, 224

  Mendoza, bridge of, 75

  Menzies, Major, 292

  Merke Braine, 300, 382

  Militia, North York, 25

  Miller, Driver, 389

  Milward, ----, 338

  Mittelkerke, 317

  Molly, Lieutenant, 227

  Mondego, 154

  Mons, 410

  Mont Rave, 82, 276, 277

  Mont St. Jean, the heights of, 299, 300, 302, 374, 387

  Moore, Sir John, 6, 142, 147;
    at Corunna, 178 _sqq._

  Morrisson, ----, 225, 226

  Mullins, ----, 172

  Musselburgh, 239


  Namur, 28

  Napier, Sir William, 4 (quoted), 66

  ---- Major, 167, 213, 214

  Napoleon, allusions, 15, 16, 49, 178, 183, 328, 404;
    his abdication, 84;
    escapes from Elba, 116, 143, 311;
    at Quatre Bras, 117, 121, 122, 335 _sqq._;
    at Waterloo, 129, 130, 302 _sqq._;
    transfers the Spanish crown to his brother Joseph, 153;
    overtakes the rearguard in the retreat to Waterloo, 356, 357, 365

  Nassau troops, 349

  New Orleans, 352

  Ney, Marshal, defeated by Wellington at the passage of the Ceira, 49;
    in the retreat from Torres Vedras, 62;
    at Quatre Bras, 288, 292, 336 _sqq._;
    leads the cavalry charges at Waterloo, 405

  Nieuport, 317

  Ninove, 338, 341

  Nivelle, river, 258, 259;
    passage of the, 81, 250, 259;
    town, 344, 345, 347, 349, 405, 409;
    road, 375 _sqq._

  Nova Scotia, 310


  O'Hara, Major, 95

  Old Guard, the, 16, 408

  Orange, Prince of, 120

  Orr, ----, 177

  Orthez, battle of, 265 _sqq._

  Ostend, 242, 315, 317, 320, 324;
    harbour, 318


  Pack, General Sir Denis, 254, 264, 269, 271;
    at Toulouse, 278;
    his brigade at Quatre Bras, 289 _sqq._;
    at Waterloo, 299 _sqq._

  Paget, Lieut.-Gen. Sir Edward, 56

  Pakenham, Sir Edward, 74

  ---- Captain, 164

  Pampeluna, 79, 106

  Paris, 116, 138, 409;
    grand review after Waterloo, 312

  Passages, 257

  Pau, river, 265, 266, 267, 269

  Peninsula, 241, 257;
    British soldier of the, 11, 27;
    the Rifles in the, 25, 29;
    campaign of 1811-12, 41;
    fights of the, 62;
    sieges of the, 86;
    experiences in the, 153

  Petite la Rhune, 81, 112

  Peyrehorade, 266

  _Philarea_, transport, 316

  Phillipon, General, 95

  Picton, Sir Thomas, 77, 82, 116;
    at Toulouse, 83, 276;
    at Ciudad Rodrigo, 93;
    at Badajos, 95;
    at Quatre Bras, 122, 289;
    at Waterloo, 129, 131, 299, 366;
    at Orthez, 266 _sqq._

  Plymouth, 229

  Ponton, James, 159

  Portsdown Hill, 147;
    execution at, 145

  Portsmouth, 228

  Portugal, 30, 34, 142

  ---- King John of, 34

  Price, farrier, 379

  Prussia, King of, 314

  Prussian troops, 351, 355;
    at Quatre Bras, 123;
    at Waterloo, 395, 399, 403

  Pullen, Richard, 228 _sqq._

  Pyrenees, 25, 80;
    marches and fights in the, 105 _sqq._, 246, 257

  Pyrnes, 42


  Quatre Bras, 14, 25, 309;
    the battle of, 116 _sqq._, 288 _sqq._, 335 _sqq._;
    the village of, 119;
    the Prussians at, 123;
    the retreat to Waterloo from, 297 _sqq._

  Quentin, Colonel, 334


  Ramsay, Major, 351, 371, 372

  Rave, Mont, 82, 276, 277

  Redinha, the fight at, 46, 62

  Regnier, General, 63

  Richmond, Duchess of, the ball given at Brussels by the, 118, 287

  ---- Duke of, 374

  "Rifles," the 95th, opposed to the 95th (French Regiment), 48;
    at Vittoria, 74, 75;
    at Ciudad Rodrigo, 87;
    at Badajos, 95, 103;
    at Quatre Bras, 116, 123;
    at Waterloo, 127 _sqq._;
    in Buenos Ayres, 147;
    at Copenhagen, 151;
    at Vimiero, 163

  Roberts, Field-Marshal Lord (quoted), 16

  Roliça, allusions to the battle of, 6, 142, 156, 162, 169, 180, 209

  Ross, Colonel, 110

  Ross's troop of Horse Artillery, 312, 410

  Rotterdam, 116

  Royal Artillery, at Waterloo, 136

  ---- G Battery, 6, 9, 15, 311;
    at Waterloo, 136;
    at Quatre Bras, 337

  Royal Highlanders (42nd), 6, 8, 12, 203;
    at the Modder, 17;
    in the Pyrenees, 257 _sqq._, 273, 275;
    at Toulouse, 276 _sqq. _;
    at Quatre Bras, 287 _sqq._


  Sabugal, battle of, 51, 52, 62;
    Wellington's description of the battle, 63

  Sahagun, 179, 180, 183

  St. Cyr, Marshal, 338

  St. Francisco, fort, 87

  St. Jean, the heights of Mont, 299, 300, 302, 374, 387

  St. Jean de Luz, 82, 111;
    road, 263

  St. Severe, 254, 267;
    road, 270, 271

  Salamanca, 8, 41, 61, 211, 213, 329;
    Wellington halts at, 54, 55;
    battle of, 69 _sqq._

  Salisbury plain, 149, 150

  _Salus_, transport, 316.

  Samunoz, 56

  San Milan, 61

  San Sebastian, 11, 86, 230, 257;
    siege of, 106 _sqq._

  Sandilands, Lieutenant, 397

  Santarem, 37, 41, 42;
    heights of, 38

  Schapdale, 364

  Scots Greys at Waterloo, 130, 299 _sqq._, 410

  Scovell, Colonel, 20

  Senne, river, 341

  Serna, 74

  Shoreham cliff, 231

  Sierra de Gata, 52

  ---- d'Estrella, 51

  Sitdown, Joseph, 192

  Smith, Sir Harry, and Lady, 104

  Smollett's "Count Fathom," 173

  Sobraon, battle of, 293

  Soho, 182, 199, 207

  Soignes, forest of, 289, 290, 300

  Somerset, Lord Edward, 343, 353

  ---- Lord Fitzroy, 120

  Soult, Marshal, 81, 84, 86, 109, 115, 182, 263;
    advances to the relief of San Sebastian, 106;
    at Orthez, 266 _sqq._;
    at Toulouse, 276 _sqq._

  South Africa, 12

  South Beeveland, island of, 28

  Spencer, General, 153

  Spithead, 29, 142, 206

  Steenkerke, 340

  Stewart, ----, 262

  ---- Captain George, 263

  ---- Lieutenant James, 263

  Stour, river, 316

  Strangways, ----, 362

  Strytem, 329, 330, 331, 338

  Surtees, Quarter-master, 181, 182


  Tagus, river, 29, 36, 153

  Talavera, battle of, 30

  Toulouse, 6, 13, 25, 62;
    battle of, 81 _sqq._, 276 _sqq._;
    heights of, 262

  Touronne, river, 67

  Tormes, 74

  Torres Vedras, 35;
    the great hill defences of, 25;
    the lines of, 30;
    Wellington enters the lines of, 33;
    Massena's retreat from, 62

  Travers, Major, 164, 169, 175

  Tres Puentes, village of, 75

  Tweed, river, 8


  Urdach, 246, 259;
    heights of, 258

  Ustritz, 263

  Uxbridge, Lord, 333, 334;
    in the retreat to Waterloo, 354 _sqq._


  Vadilla, river, 52

  Valle, 38

  Vandeleur, Sir Ormsby, 340, 353, 355, 356

  Vigo, 142, 179, 185, 207, 215

  Vimiero, 142, 180, 213;
    Wellington at, 18;
    battle of, 163 _sqq._, 227

  Vinegar Hill, 230

  Vittoria, 25, 171;
    the "Rifles" at, 59, 74;
    battle of, 75 _sqq._

  Vivian, Sir Hussey, 341, 344, 355


  Wade, Lieut.-Col. Hamilton, 219

  Walcheren expedition, 25, 142, 143

  Walcot, Captain, 397

  War Office administration, 311

  Waterloo, allusions, 5, 14, 16, 25, 26, 120, 242, 309;
    G Battery at, 15;
    village of, 118, 300 _sqq._, 402;
    retreat from Quatre Bras to, 123, 125, 297, 350;
    battle of, 126 _sqq._, 370 _sqq._;
    Highlanders at, 297 _sqq._;
    charge of the Scots Greys at, 301 _sqq._;
    with the guns at, 309 _sqq._;
    the ridge at, 364;
    after the battle, 397

  Watson, Lieutenant, 284

  Wavre, 124, 300, 336, 354

  Wellesley, Sir Arthur (_see_ Wellington)

  Wellington, Duke of, allusions, 8, 13, 18, 26, 29, 32, 40, 46, 53, 54,
  55, 62, 65, 69, 81, 106, 115, 118, 132, 148, 153, 154, 156, 163, 178;
    at Vimiero, 18, 214;
    severity of, 19, 20;
    irritability of, 20;
    satire of, 22;
    retreat to the lines of Torres Vedras, 30, 33;
    pursues Massena, 37, 41;
    reconnaissance by, 38;
    courtesy of, 40;
    defeats Ney at the passage of the Ceira, 49;
    indiscriminate censure by, 58;
    at Sabugal, 63;
    at Fuentes d'Onore, 66, 67;
    at Salamanca, 70, 71, 73;
    at Vittoria, 77;
    at Toulouse, 84, 276 _sqq._;
    at Ciudad Rodrigo, 86, 94;
    at Badajos, 99, 102;
    in the Pyrenees, 105;
    forethought of, 113;
    in the Netherlands, 116;
    at Quatre Bras, 120, 288 _sqq._, 335 _sqq._;
    withdraws to Waterloo, 124;
    at Waterloo, 135, 137, 299 _sqq._, 311 _sqq._;
    at Orthez, 266 _sqq._;
    at Brussels, 288;
    complains of his staff, 315;
    resolves to stand at Waterloo, 364

  Whinyates, Major, 357

  White, Sir George, 104

  Whitelocke, General, in Buenos Ayres, 142, 309;
    court-martialled, 147

  Wighton, ----, 285

  Winchester, 145

  Wood, Sir George Adam, 20, 21, 312, 391

  Woodbridge, 317

  Woolwich Military Academy, 309


  Yeomen of the Guard, 26

  Young, Lieutenant, 281, 282

  Young Guard, the, 16

  Yseringen, 333, 337


  Zadora, river, 75


THE END


Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. Edinburgh and London




October, 1900.

BELL'S

Indian & Colonial Library.

_Issued for Circulation in India and the Colonies only._

May be had in cloth, gilt, or in paper wrappers.

_Additional Volumes are issued at regular intervals._

  Aide (Hamilton).
    Elizabeth's Pretenders (102).

  Alexander (Mrs.).
    A Choice of Evils (33).
    A Ward in Chancery (40).
    A Fight with Fate (117).
    Mrs. Crichton's Creditor (170).
    Barbara (187).
    The Cost of Her Pride (249).
    The Stepmother (287).

  Allen (Grant).
    A Splendid Sin (138).
    An African Millionaire. Illustrated (173).
    The Incidental Bishop (210).

  Anstey (F.).
    Under the Rose. Illus. (39).

  Appleton (George W.).
    The Co-Respondent (54).
    François the Valet (267).

  Austen (Jane).
    Pride and Prejudice. Illustrated (280).

  Baring Gould (S.).
    Perpetua (189).

  Barrett (Wilson) and Barron (Elwyn).
    In Old New York (306).

  Barrington (Mrs. Russell).
    Helen's Ordeal (31).

  Benson (E.F.).
    Limitations (141).
    The Babe, B.A. (144).

  Bickerdyke (John).
    Her Wild Oats (253).

  Birrell (O).
    Behind the Magic Mirror (126).

  Bjornson (Bjornstjerne).
    Arne, and the Fisher Lassie (6).

  Bloundelle-Burton (J.).
    The Seafarers (315).

  Boothby (Guy).
    The Woman of Death. Illustrated (346).

  Bronte (Charlotte).
    Shirley (78).

  Broughton (Rhoda) and Bisland (Elizabeth).
    A Widower Indeed (48).

  Buchan (John).
    The Half-hearted (350).

  Buchanan (Robert).
    Father Anthony (247).

  Burgin (G.B.).
    Tomalyn's Quest (142).
    Settled Out of Court (255).
    Hermits of Gray's Inn (264).
    The Tiger's Claw (314).

  Burleigh (Bennet).
    The Natal Campaign. Illustrated (312)

  Caird (Mona).
    The Wing of Azrael (79).
    Pathway of the Gods (257).

  Calverley (C.S.).
    Verses and Fly-Leaves (14).

  Cameron (Mrs. Lovett).
    A Bad Lot (46).
    A Soul Astray (86).
    A Man's Undoing (176).
    Devils' Apples (212).
    A Difficult Matter (217).
    The Ways of a Widow (235).
    A Fair Fraud (263).

  Capes (Bernard).
    Joan Brotherhood (345).

  Castle (Egerton).
    The Light of Scarthey (95).

  Cobban (J.M.).
    Her Royal Highness's Love Affair (191).
    The Golden Tooth.

  Coleridge (Christabel).
    The Tender Mercies of the Good (92).

  Coleridge (S.T.)
    Table-Talk and Omniana (13).

  Creswick (Paul).
    At the Sign of the Cross Keys (328).

  Crockett (S.R.).
    The Men of the Moss-Hags (91).

  Cushing (Paul).
    God's Lad (352).

  Daudet (Alphonse).
    The Hope of the Family (233).

  Dawe (W.C.).
    The Emu's Head (119).

  De la Pasture (Mrs. Henry).
    Deborah of Tod's (211).
    Adam Grigson (290).

  Dickens (Charles).
    Pickwick Papers. Illus. (18).
    Bleak House (80).

  Douglas (Theo.).
    A Legacy of Hate (286).
    Nemo (309).

  Doyle (A. Conan).
    The White Company (20).
    Rodney Stone. Illus. (143).
    Uncle Bernac. Illus. (168).
    The Tragedy of the Korosko (204).
    The Green Flag, &c. (313).
    The Great Boer War (349).

  Du Maurier (G).
    Trilby. Illustrated (65).
    The Martian. Illustrated (180).

  Ebers (Georg).
    An Egyptian Princess (2).

  Egerton (George).
    The Wheel of God (229).

  Falkner (J. Meade).
    Moonfleet (260).

  Fenn (G. Manville).
    The Star-Gazers (7).
    The Case of Ailsa Gray (125).
    Sappers and Miners (136).
    Cursed by a Fortune (152).
    High Play (203).
    The Vibart Affair (268).

  Finnemore (John).
    The Red Men of the Dusk (295).

  Fitchett (W.H.).
    Deeds that Won the Empire. Illustrated (198).
    Fights for the Flag. Illus. (248).
    How England Saved Europe.
      4 vols. Illustrated (323-326).

  Fletcher (J.S.).
    Mistress Spitfire (154).

  Francis (M.E.).
    A Daughter of the Soil (61).

  Fraser (Mrs. Hugh).
    The Looms of Time (227).

  Garland (Hamblin).
    Jason Edwards (250).

  Gaskell (Mrs.).
    Wives and Daughters (76).

  Gerard (Dorothea).
    Lot 13 (93).
    Miss Providence (197).

  Gift (Theo.).
    An Island Princess (47).
    Dishonoured (108).

  Gissing (George).
    Denzil Quarrier (26).
    The Emancipated (29).
    In the Year of Jubilee (42).
    Eve's Ransom (60).
    Born in Exile (89).
    The Unclassed (99).
    Human Odds and Ends (202).

  Gordon (Lord Granville).
    The Race of To-day (196).

  Green (Mrs. A.K.).
    Lost Man's Lane (228).

  Griffith (George).
    Valdar the Oft-Born. Illustrated (183).
    The Virgin of the Sun (216).
    The Destined Maid. Illus. (239).
    Knaves of Diamonds (265).
    The Great Pirate Syndicate (271).
    The Rose of Judah (284).
    Brothers of the Chain (291).
    The Justice of Revenge.

  Griffiths (Major Arthur).
    Ford's Folly, Ltd. (300).
    Fast and Loose (320).
    Brand of the Broad Arrow (343).
    The Thin Red Line.

  Gunter (A.C.).
    A Florida Enchantment (277).
    The Princess of Copper (348).

  Haggard (Lieut.-Col. Andrew).
    Tempest-Torn (49).

  Hardy (Thomas).
    Tess of the D'Urbervilles (3).
    Desperate Remedies (82).

  Harradan (Beatrice).
    Ships that Pass in the Night (1).

  Harte (Bret).
    Stories in Light and Shadow (252).
    Jack Hamlin's Mediation, and other Stories (294).
    From Sandhill to Pine (329).

  Hawthorne (Julian).
    A Fool of Nature (121).

  Henty (G.A.).
    The Woman of the Commune (96).

  Hiatt (Charles).
    Ellen Terry: An Appreciation (353).

  Hill (Headon).
    The Spies of the Wight (266).

  Holland (Clive).
    Marcelle of the Latin Quarter (317).

  Hooper (George).
    Waterloo. With Maps and Plans (10).

  Hope (Anthony).
    Comedies of Courtship (107).
    Half a Hero (139).

  Hume (Fergus).
    Lady Jezebel (221).
    The Rainbow Feather (261).
    The Red-Headed Man (301).
    The Vanishing of Tera (319).

  Hunt (Violet).
    The Maiden's Progress (32).
    A Hard Woman (97).
    The Way of Marriage (150).

  Hutcheson (J.C.).
    Crown and Anchor (135).
    The Pirate Junk (156).

  Hyne (C.J. Cutcliffe).
    Adventures of Captain Kettle. Illustrated (244).
    Further Adventures of Captain Kettle (288).
    Four Red Night Caps.

  Jocelyn (Mrs. R.).
    Only a Flirt (171).
    Lady Mary's Experiences (181).
    Miss Rayburn's Diamonds (225).
    Henry Massinger (278).

  Jokai (Maurus).
    Eyes Like the Sea (16).

  Keary (C.F.).
    The Two Lancrofts (44).

  Kenealy (Arabella).
    Some Men are Such Gentlemen (64).

  Kennard (Mrs. E.).
    The Catch of the County (34).
    A Riverside Romance (112).
    At the Tail of the Hounds (201).

  Kipling (Rudyard).
    Departmental Ditties. Illustrated (242).

  L (X.).
    The Limb (124).

  Le Breton (John).
    Mis'ess Joy (340).

  Lee (Albert).
    The Gentleman Pensioner (311).

  Le Queux (W.).
    The Eye of Istar. Illus. (167).
    Whoso Findeth a Wife (188).
    The Great White Queen. Illustrated (179).
    Stolen Souls (194).
    Scribes and Pharisees (215).
    If Sinners Entice Thee (236).
    England's Peril (270).
    The Bond of Black (282).
    Wiles of the Wicked (307).
    An Eye for an Eye (336).
    In White Raiment.

  Little (Mrs. A.).
    A Marriage in China (148).

  McHugh (R.J.).
    The Siege of Ladysmith. Illustrated (321).

  Mallock (W.H.).
    A Human Document (21).
    The Heart of Life (101).
    The Individualist (272).

  Marsh (Richard).
    In Full Cry (279).
    The Goddess (334).
    An Aristocratic Detective.

  Marshall (A.H.).
    Lord Stirling's Son (70).

  Mathers (Helen).
    Bam Wildfire (238).

  Meade (Mrs. L.T.).
    A Life for a Love (62).
    A Son of Ishmael (134).
    The Way of a Woman (174).
    The Desire of Men (292).
    The Wooing of Monica (302).

  Meade (L.T.) and Halifax (Clifford).
    Stories from the Diary of a Doctor (63).
    Where the Shoe Pinches (330).

  Meredith (George).
    Richard Feverel (67).
    Lord Ormont and his Aminta (57).
    Diana of the Crossways (66).
    The Egotist (68).
    The Amazing Marriage (100).
    The Tragic Comedians (158).

  Merriman (Henry Seton).
    With Edged Tools (15).
    The Grey Lady. Illus. (190)

  Middleton (Colin).
    Without Respect of Persons. (45).

  Mitford (Bertram).
    John Ames, Native Commissioner (296).
    Aletta: A Story of the Boer Invasion (322).
    War and Acadia.

  Morrow (W.C.).
    The Ape, the Idiot, and other People (232).

  Muddock (J.E.).
    The Star of Fortune (27).
    Stripped of the Tinsel (113).
    The Lost Laird (220).
    In the King's Favour (274).
    Kate Cameron of Brux.

  Natal (Rt. Rev. Lord Bishop of).
    My Diocese during the War (327).

  Nisbet (Hume).
    Kings of the Sea. Illustrated (184).
    The Revenge of Valerie (298).
    The Empire Makers (316).
    For Right and England (338).

  Needell (Mrs. J.H.).
    The Honour of Vivien Bruce (281).

  Newland (Simpson).
    Paving the Way. Illus. (246).
    Blood Tracks of the Bush (341).

  New Note, A. (58).

  Norris (W.E.).
    The Flower of the Flock (335).

  Oliphant (Mrs.).
    The Prodigals (9).

  Ottolengui (R.).
    The Crime of the Century (128).

  Ouida.
    The Fig Tree, and other Stories.

  Parker (Gilbert) and others.
    March of the White Guard, &c. Illustrated (28).

  Paterson (Arthur).
    A Man of his Word (59).

  Payn (James).
    In Market Overt (84).
    Another's Burden (182).

  Pemberton (Max).
    A Gentleman's Gentleman (115).
    Christine of the Hills (161).
    The Phantom Army (243).
    Signors of the Night (293).

  Pett Ridge (W.).
    A Breaker of Laws (347).

  Philips (F.C.).
    Poor Little Bella (200).

  Phillipps-Wolley (C.).
    One of the Broken Brigade (193).
    The Chicamon Stone (310).

  Phillpots (Eden).
    Some Every-Day Folks (56).
    My Laughing Philosopher (114).
    Lying Prophets (155).
    Children of the Mist (240).

  Poushkin (A.).
    Prose Tales. Translated by T. Keane (52).

  Prescott (E. Livingston).
    The Rip's Redemption (254).
    The Measure of a Man (259).
    Illusion (289).

  Price (Eleanor C.).
    Alexia (75a).

  Quiller-Couch (M.).
    The Spanish Maid (195).

  Riddell (Mrs. J.H.).
    Did He Deserve it? (169).
    Footfall of Fate (332).

  'Rita.'
    Joan and Mrs. Carr (118).
    Vignettes, & other Stories (130).

  Russell (Dora).
    A Torn out Page (308).
    A Great Temptation.

  Russell (W. Clark).
    A Voyage at Anchor (303).

  Sergeant (Adeline).
    A Rogue's Daughter (111).
    Told in the Twilight (116).
    The Love Story of Margaret Wynne (237).
    Blake of Oriel (285).
    A Rise in the World (304).
    Daunay's Tower (333).
    Miss Cleveland's Companion.

  St. Aubyn (A.).
    A Proctor's Wooing (153).
    A Fair Impostor (208).
    Bonnie Maggie Lauder (276).
    A Prick of Conscience (342).

  Stables (Dr. Gordon).
    The Rose of Allandale (137).

  Stead (W.T.).
    Real Ghost Stories (199).

  Steele (Mrs.).
    Lesbia (123).

  Stockton (Frank R.).
    The Great Stone of Sardis. Illustrated (205).
    Associate Hermits (258).

  Stuart (Esme).
    Arrested (147).

  Thackeray (W.M.).
    The Newcomes (71).
    Vanity Fair (72).

  Thomas (Annie).
    Four Women in the Case (131).
    Essentially Human (166).
    Dick Rivers (209).

  Thomson (Basil).
    The Indiscretions of Lady Asenath (226).

  Tirebuck (W.E.).
    Meg of the Scarlet Foot (234).
    The White Woman (275).

  Tracy (Louis).
    The Final War. Illus. (186).
    An American Emperor (192).
    Lost Provinces. Illus. (245).
    The Invaders. Illustrated.

  Trollope (Anthony).
    Doctor Thorne (74).
    Lily Dale (75).

  Tynan (Katharine).
    The Way of a Maid (103).

  Underwood (Francis).
    Doctor Gray's Quest (83).

  Vandam (Albert D.).
    The Mystery of the Patrician Club (35).
    French Men and French Manners (104).

  Vynne (Nora).
    The Priest's Marriage (305).

  Wakeman (Annie).
    The Autobiography of a Char-woman (344).

  Walford (L.B.).
    The Archdeacon (256).

  Warden (Florence).
    A Perfect Fool (41).
    Kitty's Engagement (53).
    A Spoilt Girl (98).
    A Lady in Black (109).
    Our Widow (122).
    The Mystery of Dudley Home (157).

  Warden (Florence).
    The Girls at the Grange (175).
    Girls will be Girls (207).
    Little Miss Prim (219).
    A Lowly Lover (297).
    The Plain Miss Cray (318).
    Town Lady and Country Lass (339).

  Wells (H.G.).
    When the Sleeper Wakes (273).
    Tales of Time and Space (299).
    Love and Mr. Lewisham (331).

  Westall (William).
    For Honour and Life (8).

  Wicks (Frederick).
    The Infant. Illustrated by A. Morrow (88).

  Wiggin (Kate Douglas).
    Marm Liza (149).
    Penelope's Experiences in Scotland (223).

  Wilkins (Mary E.).
    Pembroke (17).
    Madelon (120).
    Jerome (178).
    Silence, and other Stories (231).

  Winter (John Strange).
    A Born Soldier (36).
    Bootles' Children, and other Stories (110).
    The Peacemakers (213).
    Heart and Sword (241).
    A Name to Conjure With (283).
    The Married Miss Binks (337).
    A Self-made Countess (351).

  Whishaw (Fred.).
    Many Ways of Love (269).


  AN ALPHABETICAL LIST OF
  THE BOOKS CONTAINED IN
  BOHN'S LIBRARIES.

  774 Volumes, Small Post 8vo. cloth. Price £164 16s. 6d.

  _Complete Detailed Catalogue will be sent on application._


  Addison's Works. 6 vols. 3_s._ 6_d._ each.

  Aeschylus. Verse Trans. by Anna Swanwick. 5_s._
  ---- Prose Trans. by T. A Buckley. 3_s._ 6_d._

  Agassiz & Gould's Comparative Physiology. 5_s._

  Alfieri's Tragedies. Trans. by Bowring. 2 vols. 3_s._ 6_d._ each.

  Alford's Queen's English. 1_s._ and 1_s._ 6_d._

  Allen's Battles of the British Navy. 2 vols. 5_s._ each.

  Ammianus Marcellinus. Trans. by C.D. Yonge. 7_s._ 6_d._

  Andersen's Danish Tales. Trans. by Caroline Peachey. 5_s._

  Antoninus (Marcus Aurelius). Trans. by George Long. 3_s._ 6_d._

  Apollonius Rhodius. The Argonautica. Trans. by E.P. Coleridge. 5_s._

  Appian's Roman History. Trans. by Horace White. 2 vols. 6_s._ each.

  Apuleius, The Works of. 5_s._

  Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. Trans. by W.S. Rose. 2 vols. 5_s._ each.

  Aristophanes. Trans. by W.J. Hickie. 2 vols. 5_s._ each.

  Aristotle's Works. 5 vols. 5_s._ each; 2 vols. 3_s._ 6_d._ each.

  Arian's Anabasis. Trans. by E.J. Chinnock. 5_s._

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  Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry.
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  Bass's Lexicon to the Greek Test. 2_s._

  Bax's Manual of the History of Philosophy.
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  Hunt's Selections. 3_s._ 6_d._

  Bechstein's Cage and Chamber
  Birds. 5_s._

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  2 vols. 3_s._ 6_d._ each.

  Bede's Ecclesiastical History and the
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  Bell (Sir C.) On the Hand. 5_s._

  ---- Anatomy of Expression. 5_s._

  Bentley's Phalaris. 5_s._

  Berkeley's Works. (Sampson.) With
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  Balfour, M.P. 3 vols. 5_s._ each.

  Björnson's Arne and The Fisher Lassie.
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  Blair's Chronological Tables. 10s.
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  Bleek's Introduction to the Old
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  Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy
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  Bridgewater Treatises. 9 vols. Various
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  Brink (B. Ten). Early English Literature.
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  ---- Five Lectures on Shakespeare.
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  Buchanan's Dictionary of Scientific
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  Burke's Works and Speeches. 8 vols.
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  ---- Life, by Sir James Prior. 3_s._ 6_d._

  Burney's Evelina. 3_s._ 6_d._ Cecilia.
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  Burns' Life by Lockhart. Revised
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  Burn's Ancient Rome. 7_s._ 6_d._

  Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy.
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  Burton's Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah
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  Butler's Analogy of Religion, and
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  Butler's Hudibras. 5_s._; or 2 vols.,
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  Caesar. Tran. by W.A. M'Devitte. 5_s._

  Camoens' Lusiad. Mickle's Translation,
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  Carafas (The) of Maddaloni. By
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  Carlyle's Sartor Resartus. Illustrated
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  Cervantes' Galatea. Trans. by G.
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  Chalmers On Man. 5_s._

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  Chess Congress of 1862. By J.
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  Chevreul on Colour. 5_s._ and 7_s._ 6_d._

  Chillingworth's The Religion of
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  China: Pictorial, Descriptive, and
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  Chronicles of the Crusades. 5_s._

  Cicero's Works. Trans. by Prof. C.
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  1 vol., 3_s._ 6_d._

  ---- Letters. Trans. by E.S. Shuckburgh,
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  1_s._ 6_d._

  Clark's Heraldry. (Planché.) 5_s._
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  Classic Tales. 3_s._ 6_d._

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  Cunningham's Lives of British
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  Dante. Trans. by Rev. H.F. Cary.
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  Defoe's Novels and Miscel. Works.
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  Devey's Logic. 5_s._

  Dictionary of Greek and Latin
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  Epictetus. Trans. by George Long.
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  Amelia. 5_s._

  Flaxman's Lectures on Sculpture. 6_s._

  Florence of Worcester's Chronicle.
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  Foster's Works. 10 vols. 3_s._ 6_d._ each.

  Franklin's Autobiography. 1_s._

  Gaspary's Italian Literature. Trans.
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  Gesta Romanorum. Trans. by Swan
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  Gilbart's Banking. 2 vols. 5_s._ each.

  Gil Blas. Trans. by Smollett. 6_s._

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  Goethe's Works and Correspondence, including Autobiography and Annals,
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  ---- Plays. 1_s._ and 1_s._ 6_d._
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  Grammont's Memoirs and Boscobel Tracts. 5_s._

  Gray's Letters. (D.C. Tovey.)
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  Greek Anthology. Trans. by E. Burges. 5_s._

  Greek Romances. (Theagenes and Chariclea, Daphnis and Chloe, Clitopho
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  Greek Testament. 5_s._

  Greene, Marlowe, and Ben Jonson's Poems.
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  Gregory's Evidences of the Christian Religion. 3_s._ 6_d._

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  ---- German Tales. Trans. by Mrs. Hunt. 2 vols. 3_s._ 6_d._ each.

  Grossi's Marco Visconti. 3_s._ 6_d._

  Guizot's Origin of Representative Government in Europe.
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  ---- The English Revolution of 1640.
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  ---- History of Civilisation. Trans. by W. Hazlitt.
    3 vols. 3_s._ 6_d._ each.

  Hall (Robert). Miscellaneous Works.
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  Hampton Court. A Short History
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  Handbooks of Athletic Sports. 8 vols.
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  Hardwick's History of the Thirty-nine
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  Hazlitt's Lectures and Essays. 7 vols.
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  Heaton's History of Painting. (Cosmo
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  Hegel's Philosophy of History. Trans.
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  Heine's Poems. Trans. by E.A.
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  Storr. 3_s._ 6_d._

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