Part 15

He was wrapped in his blanket, just as he was, and laid in the earth. The Captain himself read a prayer over his grave, and pronounced a short, but impressive eulogy on the merits of the departed. He showed the men the biscuit, as he related to them the manner in which it had been given to him, and he declared he would never taste it, but _keep_ the token in remembrance of the good soldier, even though he starved. The commissary, however, arrived that night, and prevented the necessity of trial to the Captain's amiable resolution. At the same time, I do believe, that nothing would have made him eat the biscuit.

This is no tale of fiction: the fact occurred before the author's eyes. Let no man then, in his ignorance, throw taunts upon the soldier, and tell him, that his gay apparel and his daily bread are paid for out of the citizen's pocket. Rather let him think on this biscuit, and reflect, that the soldier earns his crust as well as he, and when the day of trial comes, will bear the worst and most appalling privations, to keep the enemy from snatching _the last biscuit out of the citizen's mouth_. It is for his countrymen at _home_ that he starves—it is for them he dies.

FOOTNOTE:

[20] Troops of very short stature and strong make, very much esteemed by Napoleon. They wore short breeches, and half gaiters. None of the men were more than five feet three inches high.

THE BATTLE OF THE GRINDERS.

A DOMESTIC “AFFAIR.”

Quarrelsome dogs get dirty coats.

_Old Proverb._

It is to be greatly regretted that the lower orders of the people in some of the towns where the military are quartered, often quarrel with the soldiers; and it is still more so, that the fault is generally, most unjustly, thrown upon the latter. From the admirable order which is preserved throughout the whole of the British army, ill conduct upon the part of the soldiery towards the people, as rarely occurs as it escapes exemplary punishment. A drunken soldier, like any other drunken individual, may be occasionally insolent or outrageous; but certainly not more so because he _is_ a soldier. Unless under the effects of intoxication, the first offence never—or at least very seldom—comes from the soldier to the civilian. On the contrary, there exists, among the inhabitants of many towns, a strong disposition to insult the military—more particularly the officers: but this reprehensible disposition, I am happy to think, is wholly confined to the lowest order of the people. An authentic fact, which I am about to relate, throws considerable light upon the real nature of such quarrels. It is but too true, that when the report of an affray between those two ingredients in the state goes forth, every body exclaims, that the soldiers are in the wrong, and should be checked; military despotism is held up as making rapid strides; and British liberty is represented as in danger of being trodden under foot, forsooth, by an insolent soldiery! This is often the cry, even amongst enlightened men, when they hear of a quarrel between the military and the people, or rather the _rabble_; for, thank God! the men properly designated by that grand and mighty term, “_the people_,” are far removed in mind as well as manners, from those composing the ignorant and factious class who delight in doing all the injury in their power, not only to a soldier, but to every one entrusted with the preservation of social order. These, thank God! are also of the fewer number.

The Grinders[21] (as they are termed) of Sheffield were formerly very annoying to the dragoons quartered near them; and, unless they have changed their manners within the last three or four years, continue in that evil disposition to this day. But I have little hope that any change has taken place; for they appeared of that order whose noses were peculiarly suited to the grinding-stone; and though the wheel may go round for half a century, it will, I fear, never give their intellects a polish, even of the dullest kind. But although the better classes of Sheffielders are neither famous for hospitality to nor regard for the military, yet they are never forward in offering disrespect to them; and the officers quartered amongst them have sometimes met with individuals worthy of that gratitude which is due for every cordial and hospitable attention.

Some years ago, the 5th Dragoon Guards, or Green Horse, were on duty at Sheffield.—The officers of the heavy dragoons, to which class this regiment belongs, have never been remarkable for military coxcombry; on the contrary, they have been always remarked for sedate and gentlemanly demeanour. There is, therefore, less pretext for the insult which gave rise to the conflict I am about to describe.

Two of the Green Horse officers—a captain and a subaltern, were proceeding quietly from Sheffield towards their barracks, which lay about half a mile out of the town: a squad of Grinders coming from their work overtook them; and, grinning through the dirty tunic which invariably covers the faces of all their tribe, opened a volley of gibes and jeers upon the officers. “There be two b—— red herrings!” said one. “They're a gotten more gould on their jackets than in their pockets,[22] I'll warrant,” observed another, and so on; accompanying their coarse remarks by an expression of countenance and manner not to be misunderstood by the passers-by, who rather encouraged the outrage by approving looks. This provoking annoyance continued several minutes, but the officers walked quietly on, and apparently took no notice of their persecutors. As they proceeded, two privates of their regiment happened to turn out of a passage on their way to the barracks, and thus accidentally fell in, close to the rear of the grinders; and had, therefore, a full opportunity of witnessing what was going forward. As soon as they perceived the real state of matters, both stepped up to the officers; and having given the salute in line, one of them respectfully asked, “if their honours would have any objection to let them give the fellows a small bit of a threshing.” So reasonable a request could hardly be denied: the only fear the officers had, was that the grinders, who were five in number, might prove too many for the soldiers. However, a good will is half the battle; and, as the two dragoons were strapping active fellows, without any kind of arms except those with which nature had furnished them—one, a well-made Lancashire man of five feet eleven inches, and the other, a hard square-built Hibernian, of about two inches less—and as both were in light stable dresses, which seemed _cut out_ for the occasion, it was decided by the officers that their men should, if possible, render to the five grinders what, in justice, they so well deserved.

Scarcely had a minute elapsed from the issuing of orders to attack, when the five mechanics lay in various convoluted positions in the dust, the colour of which was instantly changed to florid red in various parts, owing to the operations performed upon some of the fallen noses by the knuckles of the heavy dragoons—

“And Earth blushed deep for her base sons' offences.”

An attempt to rally was several times made by the grinders, but although men of _steel_ and familiar with the _blade_, their skill and strength but little availed, so they prudently beat a retreat, having been first well beaten themselves.

The troops now coolly withdrew from the field of action in perfect order, having received the unqualified thanks of the _officer commanding_. But the enemy, who had now received a consider able reinforcement, pursued by rapid marches the _Heavies_, and came up with them within about a hundred yards from the barracks. The grinders' force was now increased to about one hundred, well armed with hammers, knives, and pokers. The barrack-gate was in view of the two soldiers, who had retreated so far extremely well, but closely followed up by the enemy's skirmishers. A party of about a dozen now joined the dragoons, and attacked the foe with vigour; but this handful could do little against so numerous an enemy, except to secure an orderly retreat into the garrison. This was done, and the gates closed upon them. Meantime the grinders mustered in great numbers, receiving reinforcements from all quarters, and seemed to threaten an assault upon the barracks. A sortie was immediately determined upon, and only one restriction put upon the troopers—whose force was now about eighty—namely, that they should not carry with them to the attack their swords, pistols, or carbines, but every man should provide himself with a broom-stick. The stable-brooms flew from their staves _instanter_ at the kick of the enraged dragoons; but as there was not a sufficient number of those formidable weapons, iron sword-scabbards, shovel handles, and rack-bars, by further permission, completed the arms of the troops.

The sortie was conducted in a most admirable manner:—the gates were thrown open by an instantaneous movement: a sergeant's guard, armed with carbines and swords, appeared drawn up in line on the inside: the Grinders beheld the formidable force, and the word “_ready_” struck such a panic into their hearts, that they ran off in confusion, without waiting for the “_present_.” However, they did not run far; but halted at the end of the road, about fifty yards from the gates; and their leaders were in the act of encouraging them to return to the assault, by appealing to the powers that watched over the “_rights of the people_.”—“Magna Charta, and the cause of the Grinders!” were the last words of the chief; and the effect of his speech was manifested in loud huzzas. At this instant the Broomsticks sallied out upon the Grinders, with a desperation which obliterated in a moment even the traces of their chief's harangue. Little was the use of the hammer, the knife, or the poker; the obtundity of the broomsticks beat down every point, and workmen with their tools were strewed along the inglorious ground—_ground_ as it were, while they ought to have been employed in _grinding_. Never was military power exerted over the “power of the people” more to the satisfaction of every body, except the Grinders themselves; for they were not cut in pieces by the sword, nor their heads blown off by the ball; but belaboured with broomsticks in the most admirable and _popular_ manner, by a force two-thirds inferior to their own!

It is much to be regretted that plebeian freaks should produce serious evils; but effects will follow causes, in spite of our regrets. This affair, although attended with no loss of lives, produced considerable loss not only to the employers of the Grinders, but to the families of the unfortunate combatants; for seventy were taken wounded to the hospital in an hour after the first attack, and some suffered a long time under their wounds. They, however, received an excellent lesson, which they did not soon forget; for when the 5th Dragoon Guards, in a few years after, were quartered amongst them, instead of insult they met with the greatest respect—(_à la distance_)—from the entire body of the Grinders.

FOOTNOTES:

[21] The lowest order of workmen employed in the manufacture of cutlery.

[22] Both the officers were men of considerable private fortune. One was a captain, now retired from the army, and residing on his estate at Newcastle-on-Tyne.

A ROUGH PASSAGE TO PORTUGAL:

SKETCHED FOR THE

BENEFIT OF YOUNG OFFICERS.

At mercy of the waves, whose mercies are Like human beings during civil war. BYRON.

“Whatever is, is right.” These words served to adorn the poetry of Pope; and as a consolatory axiom, to soothe the injuries inflicted upon mankind during this “pilgrimage here below,” it serves a good purpose; but, however consoling it may be to the philosopher under worldly troubles, it answers but poorly its intentions with a young subaltern, who from “the turn of a straw,” has been thrown out of his promotion; and so finds his flattering day-dreams of hope turned into painful and disappointing realities. The moral tongue may tell him—“all is for the best;” that, “whatever is, is right,” and his own lip may echo the maxim with a sigh of approbation, but he cannot in his heart believe it: reflection, “like a worm i' the bud,” feeds upon him with a more active and injurious tooth, than that of the insect which gnaws the page of the moralist. Of this I feel convinced, although I know I disobey the Fathers in so doing; but I cannot help it: nor can I help thinking, that the occurrences of the voyage I am about to describe, tended to any thing but the benefit of the three subalterns who encountered them; any more than I can help feeling satisfied, that the petty trickery of a boatman's trade produced the evils I allude to, and changed totally the chances and prospects in life of three individuals.

There are so many leading causes to all evils, that it is difficult to say which may be properly fixed on as the most responsible. As the smallest pebble thrown upon the silent lake will displace, imperceptibly, every particle of its waters, so does each movement of our life influence the undisturbed mirror of futurity which lies before us. The incidents of our existence are like the fragments within the glasses of the kaleidoscope—the slightest movement changes, more or less, the whole of the succeeding pictures. Thus were the flattering views of three individuals changed by the ordinary turn of a boatman's roguery. Had this little circumstance never occurred, a totally different course of events must necessarily have followed:—but after all, perhaps, we may say, would it have been better?

Two young and inexperienced officers, whom I will introduce under the names of Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown, were ordered, in January 1810, to join the army in Portugal. They took the coach immediately and proceeded to Portsmouth, where they received an order for a passage from Captain Patten, the agent for transports. The master of the vessel appointed for their passage happened to be in the agent's office at the time, and reported that the accommodation was desirable. His was a store-ship, which had no troops on board; so that the cabin was to be in the sole possession of the two Subalterns—no small advantage to those who dislike the inconvenience of a sea-sick crowd, packed into fifteen feet by ten of a transport's cabin, and no prospect of good weather. The master of the vessel also informed them that there was every prospect of sailing immediately, as the wind was quite fair, and recommended them to lose no time in getting on board.

The officers hastened to embark. They remained no longer in Portsmouth than was necessary to allow of their purchasing a sea-stock of fresh provisions, consisting of half a sheep, some tea and sugar, a few loaves of fresh bread, three or four bottles of milk, and a couple of dozen of eggs. This matter did not take up more than an hour. They paid their hotel expenses, and one of them stepped down to the Point to engage a boat to take them to their ship, which was at anchor at Spithead. The fare is regulated at three shillings each boat for that distance, unless when the wind is blowing fresh, and then it is six shillings. There was a stiff breeze out; but by no means entitling boats to the double fare. The officer selected a boatman, and told him he would give him six shillings if he would take him and his friend, but the amphibious shark, knowing that the signal was made for sailing, demanded fourteen; which unreasonable demand was agreed to and the matter settled. The officer now returned to the inn, and in ten minutes baggage and all were on the beach. But the boat was gone, nor could the boatman be found. In vain were others of his calling requested to take the fare; the vessels were getting under weigh, and nothing less than five pounds was the demand for a boat. This was evidently a trick played off by the man who was engaged for fourteen shillings, in the hope of dividing a much larger sum with whatever other of his fellows should be employed.

Now there were two strong reasons why the officers would not submit to this imposition: one might have been waived, but the other was absolute: in the first place, they thought it would be a service to the public to have the man, who had disappointed them, punished; and in the next they really could not afford to pay the sum demanded by the other boatmen. In this situation, they had the mortification to see the whole fleet set sail from the harbour.

The first consequence of this disappointment was, that they were obliged to remain five weeks longer before they could get another vessel, owing to the unfavourable winds which set in a few days after they lost their passage. Their disappointment was rendered still more galling by news from Lisbon, that the ship in which they were to have sailed had arrived in the Tagus on the sixth day after she left Portsmouth. The further consequences I will now describe.

After many visits to the Transport-Agents' office, and much grumbling from the little _official_ himself, the Subalterns received an order for a passage in a very fine ship, and were soon on board. Here they found the cabin occupied only by a lieutenant of dragoons, who commanded a detachment of his regiment, also on board with their horses.

This lieutenant, who acted so prominent a part in the _rough passage_, is worthy of an outline. He was a subaltern of four or five years standing, but had yet known no more of service than the barrack parade and a good mess-dinner were capable of affording. He was the son of a rich London tradesman—a legitimate child of Cockaigne; and as powerfully impressed with the peculiarities of that distinguished land as any of his countrymen. He could point out every feature of metropolitan amusement, from half-price at _Common_-Garden, to the Panorama in Leicester-Square—could repeat the biography of all Mr. Pidcock's menagerial subjects, together with those of the Tower—understood the Sunday park-ride, and knew to a fraction the charges of all respectable horse-hirers in London—could discuss a plate of a-la-mode at the Three Cantons, or ticket his way to a Guildhall dinner—was well acquainted with Gog and Magog, and could criticize a peal of triple bob-majors with any citizen within the sound of Bow-bells. From his face, (although full twenty-seven years old,) one could tell that his taste had begun upon lolly-pops, improved in raspberry-puffs, and ultimately expanded in the sugary bosom of a twelfth-cake. He was married withal; and had but just tasted the sweets of his honey-moon, when he was ordered to embark for Portugal. This last circumstance had imparted to his countenance a strong tinge of melancholy, calculated to remind the beholder of Liston, in the part of Romeo; indeed the sudden retreat of his chin and forehead, from the centre of the facial line, made him infinitely more interesting than even that performer could ever have been in his most sentimental characters. He had a purse pretty well filled with guineas, purchased at twenty-five shillings each, and a good stock of little luxuries for a sea-table; therefore was he civil and good-natured, as your true and genuine _cockaignee_ (vulgarly spelt cockney) always is, when amongst strangers out of his own land.

When the other two Subalterns arrived on board, they were received by the Dragoon (whom we shall call Mr. Dickens) with all that condescending civility, which imaginary importance deigns to bestow upon imagined inferiority. He requested them to taste his peculiarly fine German sausage at _tea_; showed them his canteen, and praised the manufacture of it; promised to let them see his horses in the hold next day; and having himself taken the best birth in the cabin, recommended others for their acceptance.

The ship sailed next morning along with a numerous fleet, under convoy of the Hibernia and San Joseph, for Lisbon, and things went on agreeably enough, Lieutenant Dickens having all his own way. On the fourth day after sailing, they came in sight of the high hills, and bold coast of Portugal, within a few leagues of Oporto. It was a most delightful day; the goatherds could be plainly seen on the hills; and they no doubt admired the magnificence of the fleet, which glided under them like a flock of huge sea-birds. The water was calm, but there was a sufficient breeze in the sails (which were all set before the wind) to make the passengers imagine that the objects on shore passed rapidly by—and Lieutenant Dickens looking out from the forecastle, through a newly purchased field glass, for the boats of oranges, which (as the master of the vessel said) would put off from Oporto to the fleet, wonderfully improved the picture—in his own eyes.

Nothing could be more favourable than the voyage so far; and the officers of course expected to be on shore at Lisbon, in two days more at farthest.

In these expectations they were enjoying a pleasant dinner—the Lieutenant, from the prospect of landing, having become more condescendingly agreeable, and less inclined to muse upon his departed honey-moon. The calm sea and the sight of the land had the effect of removing from all stomachs those squeamish sensations which the rolling of the ship in the middle of the Bay of Biscay had produced, and the wine circulated well after a substantial dinner was duly disposed of.

In the course of the evening the Dragoon became peculiarly communicative, and began to comment, not only on things in general, but on things in particular: the state of the army and the state of the nation were reviewed; and in one of his harangues he roundly asserted that “the Hirish made very good private soldiers; but the _hidear_ was preposterous to say that they were fit to command in the _haumy_.” To this one of the Subalterns (who happened to have been born in Ireland) replied in warm but inoffensive language, recapitulating the names of some hundreds of distinguished Irish officers, at the head of whom he placed Lord Wellington, under whose command they were, even at that moment. The Dragoon was somewhat posed at this, but rallied.

“Haw, Sir!” said he, “you mention a vast number; but I still do not _halter_ my _hopinion_. Lord Wellington is a very _fortunate_ man, Sir; but he is nothing of a commander; and before three months, Sir, we shall all be driven out of the Peninsula_r_—that _hevery_ body must allow.”

“_I_ will not allow it,” replied Mr. Smith; “for one.”

“Nor I, for another,” rejoined Mr. Brown.

“'Pon my honour, gentlemen, you know nothing, either of politics or of the _haumy_; you _should_ read the papers.” With this observation the Dragoon arose from the table, put on his foraging cap, and went on deck.

Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown had not sat half an hour after the departure of the Dragoon, and had scarcely concluded their remarks on the arrogance of his manners as well as the absurdity of his opinions, when an unusual bustle was heard on deck. They went up to learn the cause, and found that a south-west wind had set in, and it was coming on to blow hard. It was nearly dusk; but they could perceive that the fleet had tacked about from the land, and was bearing out to sea. A total change of feeling took possession of every mind; and sleep became the only resource to those who had hoped for a speedy landing.