Part 11

The Congreve-rockets now resumed their place in the dreadful scene, and, from the preceding night's practice, did infinitely more execution than before. They, together with the lighted fusees of the shells, flying through the dark night, appeared to me like the idea I form of comets and stars in the confusion of the last day, and the thunder of the numerous batteries heightened the force of the comparison. I went to the top of the church; the unfortunate town was almost silent! scarcely a gun flashed from the ramparts, while our newly opened fire seemed to me like smiting a fallen man. The sublimity of the scene has been rarely equalled. The clouds, dark and rapid in their windy course, behind which a gleam of the rising moon was slowly appearing; the rockets on the left darting through the gloom, and spreading a red glare all over the earth, on which the active soldiers were serving the batteries; the shells flying through the air; the cannons thundering, and displaying their masters to the view by the red flames vomited from their mouths; the ships in the distance, and the town on fire in four places! The sight was truly awful!—In the midst of this convulsion Colonel Pack, with a party of his own regiment, the 71st, the 36th, and the German Legion, assaulted a battery which the enemy had constructed on the left of the town, and which did considerable execution among our men. Availing himself of a few moments of darkness, he advanced at the head of his column to the very mouths of the guns! The next moment the discharge of a huge rocket shed over the whole battery a red light, and just as the assailants were clambering up its sides. Short, but desperate, was the work; the French defended themselves with great courage, but the bayonets of the British carried the battery gallantly; and thus, one of the enemy's last resources was cut off. The Frenchmen were instantly marched to the rear; and it was an encouraging sight for our soldiers to distinguish, through the gloom, the outline of the figures of their countrymen victoriously seizing on the enemy's best battery, under the very walls of the town.

During this dreadful night and the preceding, the inhabitants of Middleburg, whose kindred and friends were inside of the besieged town, had been running about the rear of our lines, lamenting their fate; and at every discharge of rocket or shell, seeming to shudder with apprehension. These feelings were rendered more poignant when they considered that the English had, previous to opening the batteries, sent a flag of truce in vain, to propose that the women and children should be allowed to pass out from the town—for this proposal was refused by Monet. It was known also to the inhabitants of Middleburg and to us, that these women with their children assembled in a body, and proceeded to the quarters of that General, to entreat him to grant the request; but they were answered by the appearance of a six-pounder before the gate, and assured that if they did not disperse, it would be employed to compel them to do so!

At day-break, Monet sued for a suspension of hostilities for two days: of course this was refused; but two hours were given him to consider further, before the bombardment should proceed. He could have gained nothing by further obstinacy: it could only have had the effect of producing the cruel destruction of the town and its inhabitants: accordingly, he wisely capitulated within the time allowed him for coming to a determination.

The garrison (upwards of a thousand) were permitted to march out with honours; and, having drawn up outside the gates, their bands playing and the eagle flying, they laid down their arms, and were marched off prisoners of war.

On entering the town, we found it in a most deplorable state of dilapidation, particularly on the side exposed to the sea, and that which had been opposed to our right. The flames were still raging where the rockets had taken effect, and one whole street was a mere heap of ruins: the stadthouse was burnt down: few houses, indeed, in the whole town escaped being shot through by our balls; and there were no less than four holes made thus in the room of a cheesemonger's house, where I afterwards took up my quarters. One of the balls had passed through the centre of an old-fashioned clock, and another had broken to pieces a fine oak table. In the billiard-room, near the beach, there were five or six large shot, piled up as a curiosity: these had passed into the room from our ships. The countenances of the inhabitants when we marched in, were not joyous; they had suffered too much; they looked as if they were spirit-broken; and no house of accommodation opened to the British, but two—the one kept by an Englishman, of the name of Hector, and the other by a native.

A considerable number of wounded remained, both of French and natives; among the latter I found a most interesting young girl, who had suffered amputation of the thigh: she had been hit by one of our shells, while in bed. Hundreds of the inhabitants were dug out from the ruins, dying and dead; tears and groans and desolation were to be met with at every step. “Alem! Vlissengen!”[13] was muttered by every tongue; and Flushing, one of the prettiest towns in Zealand, was now prostrate in the dust. The drunken war-fiend had feasted there, and all around were to be seen the fragments of his revelry.

In a few days after the capitulation, we were ordered to Middleburg, where we relaxed a little from the severities of the siege. With the exception of the dread of sickness, which pervaded all Englishmen at that time, every thing to us was enjoyment in this city. It was fair-time when we arrived: delight was in every body's countenance; and this hilarity in one of the prettiest little cities on earth, where hospitality was lavished on us, removed a great deal of our dread of the prevailing fever, which was then daily destroying fifty or sixty of our men. The officers were quartered at the houses of the principal inhabitants, who behaved with the most praiseworthy kindness to all, furnishing not only quarters of a superior kind, but excellent tables and wine. I have particular reason to remember gratefully the people of the house in which I was myself quartered, because their kindness appeared even more disinterested than the rest, as will be seen by the following circumstance:—I had arrived late at Middleburg, having been detained behind the regiment, and on one of the most rainy and thundering nights that ever visited a hot summer. By some of the people I was directed to the _straad_ where the best hotel was situated, and after a long search found the house, and rang at the door. I was admitted by a very pretty and interesting young lady, who said in French that her father would be down stairs immediately, and politely showed me into the parlour.

In a moment a respectable-looking man, of about sixty years of age, entered, and addressed me in Dutch, with a most affable air, the politeness of which I understood, but the meaning not at all, for I knew no more of the Dutch language than I did of the Coptic; however, the young lady soon explained in French what the old man said, and I found his address was nothing more than that he was extremely glad to see me as a British officer, and that every thing in his power was at my service. I replied, that I had just arrived from Flushing, and that I was directed to his hotel as being the best—that I was very wet, and that I wished for some refreshment. The lady smiled as she conveyed my words to her father in his own language, on which the old man clasped my hand in both of his, and in the most pressing manner begged me to make his house my home while I staid in the town. The daughter interpreted this request, adding her own invitation with such an air of sincerity, that I accepted the kind offer. We soon became intimate: supper was served, and the old gentleman and I finished a bottle or two of genuine old wine in the happiest manner possible. I slept there that night, and at breakfast the next morning he produced a “billet” for me, signed by the principal burgo-master, having got my name from my card, and thus he _regularly_ quartered me upon _himself_. I remained at the house of this most hospitable man until the general embarkation. He treated me more like his own son than a stranger—all my wishes were anticipated, and some of the happiest months of my existence were decidedly those I passed beneath the generous Dutchman's roof.

Our corps became very sickly in a few days, and we lost the greatest number both of officers and men. How I escaped, I know not; I took no precaution to avoid the effects of the climate, except indeed that I made a liberal use of segars and good “Hollands,” agreeably diluted. Some _pure_ water-drinkers fared worse, and fell victims to the fever: I am inclined to think, upon the whole, that my plan was the best. Good-living seemed to be the order of the day, while we remained at Middleburg, from the Commander-in-Chief down to the Sub. I do not now speak from actual observation of Lord Chatham's merits, as regards his Lordship's gastronomy, for I was both too young, and of too humble a rank, to expect such an honour; but from general report, and the circumstance of a man having fallen and dislocated his shoulder under the weight of a most admirable turtle, which he was conveying to the quarters of the Commander-in-Chief, as a present from Sir William Curtis, who had accompanied the expedition in his yacht.

In the latter end of December, we marched to Flushing, to embark, as the island was to be evacuated by the British troops. Here we witnessed the finishing stroke of destruction given to that unhappy town. Every thing that could be rendered useful to the fortification was destroyed, the fine arsenal was set on fire, the guns spiked, bridges broken, and docks demolished, before the eyes of the sorrowful townspeople. The burning of the arsenal was a grand and melancholy spectacle—it illuminated the whole atmosphere, and so strong was the heat reflected upon the town by it, that the inhabitants were necessitated to use water-engines against their various dwellings, to prevent a general conflagration. A terrific hurricane soon followed this, and injured our fleet of transports off Flushing excessively: the crews of two were lost. This delayed us a few days longer. At length the whole of our forces were embarked, and we sailed on the 23rd of December from the island, in which eleven thousand of our gallant comrades had been consigned to the grave. It was one of the most black, rainy, and foggy mornings that ever hung over the moist flats of Holland, when we weighed anchor, and our departure was _saluted_ from the opposite shore, Cadsand, with thirty-six pound shot, which (although from the distance we kept, it could not do much injury) the enemy, as if in exultation, sent us as a parting compliment: one shot unluckily took effect, and killed a sergeant of the 71st. We were but a short time at sea; for on Christmas-day we landed at Deal; very different beings as to dress, &c., to what we were when we left that port a few months before.

Thus ended the Walcheren Expedition. It was my first campaign in the service, and although attended with some trouble, and a great deal of danger, I remember even its worst passages with pleasure; for they were associated with my morning of life, and as such have become subjects of sweet recollection to me now. My troubles, on the whole, were nearly counterbalanced by gentle contingencies. The life of a campaigner would be a dreary picture indeed, if some relief were not thrown into it by the light of the heart: and seldom, thank Heaven! has there occurred a scene in my military panorama where I could not find a gleam. Whence comes the brightest? From woman's eyes. A soldier is nothing without his lass—his life reads badly—cold, dull, and monotonous. But this, gentle reader, was not my case; enthusiastic, imaginative, ready to adore every thing sentimental, or romantic, how could I avoid the flowery way? I _did_ fall in love—as every young officer should do, who knows his duty; and the first decided symptom of my derangement, was the following poetical fit which seized me as soon as I found I was no more in Walcheren.

The gun is fired, the signal blue Floats from the mast—adieu! adieu! Flow'r of the flow'rs! smile of the smiles! Gem of the Zelander's sandy isles! O! many a time will I turn to thee, In fond and faithful memory. Though pleasure over my path may shine, 'Twill only remind me of thee and thine— Though sorrow may haunt me, yet 'twill be The sharpener of what I lost in thee. For ever, for ever, my heart will remember The stormy birth of our own September. When down on my head fell sheets of rain, And the lightning lash'd the gloomy plain: As if the Heav'ns were repeating that night, (What that day we had done) the terrible fight.[14] For, Sweet, in that hour of tempest I met thee, And felt, even then, I could never forget thee. Oh! thy gentle looks, and thy pitying sighs, Put an end to the rage of the roaring skies; And thy father, thy home, and thine own sweet smile, Made me love the Zelander's sandy isle. How quick, how quick, did the moments flee! O! their beautiful wings were made by thee. How fair—how fair was each morning's light; For thou wert there—so bright—so bright! But one—the last—was bleak and dark— Oh! it dawn'd in mist on my home-bound bark— I cannot help thinking it seem'd to be A gloomy omen of destiny. Yes, while I live, shall my soul remember The stormy birth of our own September; For thou shalt be as a lovely tree, Fresh blooming within my memory— For ever budding beautiful leaves To cheer the waste over which it waves.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] The midshipmen who commanded these parties, were all steady officers of not less than four or five-and-twenty years of age.

[13] Alas! Flushing.

[14] On the night succeeding the surrender of Flushing, the most terrific thunder-storm raged for several hours.

JOURNAL OF A CAMPAIGN AT THE HORSE-GUARDS.

Laurea flaminibus, quæ toto perstitit anno, Tollitur, et frondes sunt in honore novæ.

OVID.

April 1st. Proceeded by forced marches from Chatham, to Charing-cross. Halted for the night, and ordered a double ration of rum.

2nd. Took up a position in the Strand, my right leaning on the Hungerford, my left on the Wheatsheaf-tavern. Reconnoitred the enemy, found him in strong force, and entrenched; flanked by the Treasury on the right, and, on the left, by the War-office. Wavered a little, but thought of Waterloo, Salamanca, and the storming of Badajoz.

3rd. Sent out spies.—Bad news—approaches of the enemy's entrenchments almost inaccessible. Reconnoitred the rear of his position, in disguise—narrow escape of being cut off by the Adjutant-general.

4th. Skirmishing at various parts of the lines. Sharp-shooting effective.—Took one of the Duke's porters, and learnt from him the precise state of the enemy—right commanded by Sir Herbert Taylor; left, by Lord Palmerston—Commander-in-Chief, the Duke in person. Fell back with my light troops upon my centre—doubts of success increasing, but thought of my motto “_nil desperandum_,” and former services.

5th. Out-posts attacked by Sir Henry Torrens, and driven in—ordered up a brigade of artillery, and light cavalry—desired effect; kept him in check, and _gained time_.

6th. All quiet.

7th. Threw out my light troops—attacked, and took the lobby, an important post in the enemy's front. Manœuvred on his right, but could not bring Sir Herbert Taylor to action.

8th. All quiet—some auxiliary troops arrive—strong hopes of success.

9th. Under arms at day-break—manœuvred on the enemy's right again—drove in his piquets—sharp skirmishing—Sir Herbert Taylor came out from his entrenchments in great force—moved a column of infantry, and a brigade of artillery, supported by a body of cavalry, to the attack. Cannonaded him briskly, and charged with effect; but Sir Herbert was reinforced, and maintained his ground; so I retired in order.

From 9th to 27th. Skirmishing every day—fortified my position—increased my strength by _forced levees_.—Endeavoured to bring the enemy to action without effect—annoyed in my rear, by a body of _disaffected_ tradesmen—things looking worse.

28th. Held a council of war—long faces—military chest light—provisions scarce—supplies cut off from Greenwood and Cox—affairs desperate—resolved on making a decisive effort.

29th. Nearly cut off in reconnoitring, by the _disaffected Sheriff_ of Middlesex, and his Guerilla band, but made good my retreat—saved by a fog. Moved out my light troops, to take an important post from the enemy, and after some sharp work, lodged myself in the waiting room—directed my attention again to Sir Herbert Taylor—after a brisk engagement turned his right, and drove him in; but it was too late to follow up the advantage.

30th. Removed the engagement—directed my whole force to the centre—keeping the left in check—attacked the Duke with desperate energy—drove him from his entrenchments—cannonaded him incessantly from three commanding points—threw him into confusion—poured in my cavalry, and completely routed the enemy.

Thus I remained master of the field; and for this victory, was rewarded by His Most Gracious Majesty, with—A COMPANY!

MESS-TABLE CHAT.

No. II.

“A band of gallant souls, who knew The olive wood, the mountain blue, The ration rum, the biscuit black, The long bleak road, the bivouac, The cannon's thunder, and the bays That wave o'er glorious victories, Better than city's midnight dress, Her luxuries, and gaudiness.”

SCENE—_the mess-room of an Infantry regiment_.

By way of introduction to the present number of “Mess-Table Chat,” a short description of the scene, as well as the actors in it, will not be amiss; it will assist the reader very considerably in the conception of the picture.

Let him, then, imagine a spacious apartment well-carpeted, containing a large sideboard, on which are spread all the shining accompaniments of good eating and good drinking; the windows richly curtained; a large blazing fire at one extremity of the room (the season requiring it); an oblong table, at which are seated about eight-and-twenty officers, all in their full regimentals;—scarlet coat, yellow facings buttoned back on the breast; the field officers (a colonel and two majors) having _two_ rich silver epaulettes each; the staff (three surgeons, one pay-master, and one quarter-master) in single-breasted coats _without_ epaulettes; and all the other officers (three of the grenadiers and three of the light company excepted—they having two wings instead) wearing _one_ epaulette each on the right shoulder; white pantaloons, and Hessian boots on all; sashes (except with the staff) but no swords.

Let the reader also imagine the countenances of the officers; the greatest number well tanned by the sunshine of foreign climes, and exhibiting the marks of various ages from thirty to fifty, amongst them, of course, a few “_young hands_,” ensigns and lieutenants, with youthful and good-looking faces, in which might be discovered a peculiarity that promised well to honour, at a future period, the more advanced ages of the corps by assuming their present uniformity of “phiz.”

Waiting upon the group, let the reader also imagine six or eight servants, in as many different liveries (all men from the ranks) standing “attention” behind their respective masters' chairs, or assisting in the table service under the “_chief command_” of the _mess waiter general_,—a fusty old privileged rear-rank man, in a green livery, faced with red, his person exhibiting evident marks of good living, and indicating thereby the difference between his former barrack-room _mess_ and his present _mess-kitchen_ morsels: upon the table, the dessert profusely spread; the board laughing with light; corks chirping; glasses sparkling; and the band in the passage without, playing in their best style the beautiful melody of “_Go where glory waits thee_.” This is the MESS-ROOM of a happy regiment.

I cannot decorate my heroes with that highly esteemed badge “the _medal_,” because the regiment I describe never

“Smelt Waterloo's pink-ribbon'd shot.”

Yet are they not the worse for that: many fought at the immortal engagement commemorated by _the medal_, whose battle account, if scrutinized, would be found to fall short of theirs—perhaps one _twentieth_ part.

The members of the mess are partly English, partly Irish, and partly Scotch: I will not here mention their names, but let them “_fall in_” just as the dialogue may call them up.

_Time about seven o'clock.—Cloth just removed._

_Capt. Ball_ (_president for the day_). Gentlemen, fill.

_Major Swordly_ (_“vice” for the day_). We are all ready at this end of the table.

_Capt. Ball_ (_looking through a full glass_). “THE KING! GOD BLESS HIM!”

[_All drink bumpers to the toast._ “GOD BLESS HIM!” “GOD BLESS HIM!” _passing from one end of “the line” to the other, while the band without change to the royal and national anthem. The Mess in under-tones chat to each other._]

_Capt. Ball._ Gentlemen, I'll give you another toast:—THE REVERED AND CHERISHED MEMORY OF THE LATE DUKE OF YORK, THE FATHER OF THE ARMY.

[_All rise and drink the toast in solemn silence, after which they resume their seats, and a slight pause ensues._]

_Capt. Killdragon._ Heaven bless his memory! it will be a long time before we forget him.

_Col. Shell._ I think we may say with Shakspeare—

“He was a man, take him for all in all, We shall not look upon his like again.”

_Capt. Killdragon._ Yet kind, generous, good, and great as he was, men were not wanting to revile him.

_Major Mc Rocket._ _Men!_ did ye say? mere like deevils.

_Capt. Killdragon._ Devils, indeed! Mc Rocket, and my _own_ country devils too: sorry am I to say it.

_Dr. Slaughtery._ Yes, yes, Killdragon; but this was not worse than the _English_ conspiracy formed against him some years ago: the attack made upon him by Mr. Shiel was the effect of the unfortunate party feeling which prevails in Ireland. I do not speak so because I am myself an Irishman, but because I am convinced that so long as the violence of party exists in that country, you will have such things.

_Capt. Killdragon._ Oh! doctor, you have too much of the milk of human kindness about you. I (as you all know, Gentlemen) am a Catholic—I hope yet to see the members of my religion emancipated from their grating chains; but is it by such firebrands as now inflame the Irish, we are to be liberated? No; those can only make our chains red-hot, and weld them firmer—those are but the evil tools of their own selfish purposes, and to be the idols of a mob, would lead it to its perdition the while. However, let the motives be what they may, the conduct in this affair was detestable. The man who would draw aside the curtains of the death-bed, that the rabble which followed him might mock the dying, while he himself stood by it, displaying his venomous teeth, and mixing with the prayers of his helpless victim his own horrid yells—is a monster, which I had thought was only to be imagined, until a demagogue, my countryman and fellow Catholic, embodied the horrid conception.

_Dr. Slaughtery._ But he neutralized it by the _amende honorable_.