Part 4

A very hot engagement had taken place, in which the 31st regiment had been hard at work. Quill had his instruments, &c. under a hedge in a valley; at a little distance from the hill which his regiment was endeavouring to take from the French. He stayed pretty near the corps, (for Morris was no flincher,) and one of his brother officers being wounded in the leg, he ran over to him to render what surgical assistance he could. It was necessary to have something from the medicine-chest, which was behind the hedge in the valley, and Morris started off like a hare, to fetch it. At this moment the regiment was suffering from grape-shot, and the Brigadier-General, who was coming at a gallop along a narrow lane, saw Quill running, inside a hedge, as fast as he could, away from the regiment, in the uniform of which he was; and, thinking it was some cowardly officer who feared the grape, the General cried out to him, “Where are you going, Sir?” To which Morris only replied, still running under the hedge, “By J----s! I won’t stay any longer there; it’s too hot.” The General again cried out to him, and ordered his aid-de-camp to follow, and march him back a prisoner; but Morris outran the aid-de-camp’s horse, and arrived before him at the hedge where his instruments were. When the latter saw who it was, he well nigh fell off his horse with laughing, as he galloped back to tell the General his mistake. Morris laughed heartily, too; and, indeed, he had the laugh all on his own side, as he returned with the medicaments for which he had gone, to assist his wounded brother officer, and with which he ran as fast _into_ the field as he had run _out_ of it.

MESS-TABLE CHAT.

No. III.

“To laugh with gibing boys, and stand the push Of every beardless vain Comparative.”

SHAKSPEARE.

SCENE.--_The Depôt Mess-room at Winchester--a tolerably large apartment, more airy than comfortable; neither carpet nor curtains.--Dinner so so.--Wines of excellent_ MANUFACTURE.--_Company, consisting of fifteen officers, (mostly youths) of different regiments, and of course in different uniforms.--Attendants, three recruits in undress, (white flannel,)--no band; but several dogs barking and scudding about the lobby_.

_Ensign Newly._ By G--d, I never sat down to so d--d a dinner in my life; we get worse and worse every day: the fish smells infernally, and this hash is made of the hard mutton we had on table last Thursday. Simple, my boy, give us a _sample_ of that old cock turkey before you, if you can get a knife into him.

_Ensign Simple._ I can’t carve. (_In a whisper._) Captain Alder, will you cut the turkey? I never carved in my life.

_Capt. Alder._ Very well, Mr. Simple, I’ll try my skill. Hand that turkey this way, John.

[_One of the attendant recruits takes the dish of turkey, and in making an unnecessary circuit of the table, flaps down upon his face; the dish is smashed, and the turkey rolls to the far end of the mess room, followed by streams of gravy and the regrets of the company._]

_Ensign Newly._ O, curse you for a clodhopper! Run after the turkey, you rascal.

[_John runs and takes up the turkey, but drops it immediately._]

_Lieut. Short._ What do you drop the turkey for, Sir, eh?

_John._ (_Blowing his fingers._) It’s roasting hot, zur.

_Capt. Alder._ Send the mess-waiter here, and then go to your duty, Sir. You are not fit to be a scullion.

[_Exit John; and as he goes out, three pointer dogs and a terrier run into the mess-room, and skurry about; one of them seizes on the turkey, but finding it too hot for his palate, drops his prey, and begins to bark loudly at it. The Mess-waiter and two attendants arrive in time, and beat out the dogs, after some difficulty, owing to the canine taste for gravy._]

_Lieut. Grub._ Well, d-- me, if this is not a pretty _mess_. I wish I was back with my old corps once more, in the wilds of Canada. I never saw a depôt mess yet that could manage a good servant.

_Capt. Alder._ Never! (_In a whisper._) Did you ever know it to manage _any thing_ good?

_Lieut. Short._ Mess-waiter! what follows this course?

_Mess-waiter._ Rabbits, and the cold beef, Sir.

_All._ The cold beef! The eternal cold beef!

_Mess-waiter._ Gentlemen, I assure you the market was so bad to-day, that we could only find that turkey; but the beef is very sweet and good yet.

_Ensign Newly._ Mind, that we have no hashed or deviled turkey this week.

[_looking significantly at the dirtied bird._]

_Mess-waiter._ Oh no Sir; we’ll eat this ourselves.

_Ensign Newly._ You will have fine sand sauce then.

[_Hash and harrico are now served out amongst the half-grumbling, half-laughing mess, but a glass or two of wine restore matters a little; the rabbits and beef are scarcely tasted, and dinner is concluded on cheese and stale tarts._]

_Ensign Luby._ Send round the wine, Mr. President. I have just touched the cash to-day. Old dad has sent me a fifty, and I am determined to be comfortable.

_President._ Then I’ll send in your wine account to-morrow, my lad.

_Ensign Luby._ Ay, do, do--you’ll not find me like Mr. Trotter, who marched off yesterday without waiting for his.

_Several._ What! is Trotter off?

_President._ Yes: and in a very ungentlemanly way too. I knew he couldn’t stand the follies he gave way to--out every night until three, and never sober.

_Ensign Newly._ I think, Mr. President, as I am a member of the same corps to which Trotter belongs, you have shown no great proof of taste in mentioning his name so disrespectfully before me.

_President._ Mr. Newly, I speak of Mr. Trotter as I think he deserves: he _may_ be very honourable, but I think he outran his means, and thereby his honour also.

_Several voices (in confusion.)_ Certainly, d--d dishonourable conduct.

_Ensign Luby._ Come, lads, hear me: I know Trotter a little; he is a good young fellow; but somewhat too free with his cash; he does not know how to keep it, when he gets it from home. I do not like to see disputes here,--God knows we have enough of them: last night we were all made unpleasant by two gentlemen contending that one’s facings were handsomer than the other’s, and the day before we were thrown into confusion by an argument between two young gentlemen about superior rank and services--both not yet two months in the army. Come, I say--Trotter owes his wine-bill: and for the best of reasons--he had not money enough left to pay it out of seventy pounds sent by his father; because, you see, he played Hell and Tommy (as the phrase goes): so I’ll tell you what--I will _pay it myself_--ay, or any other friend’s wine-bill; for, as I said before, I touched a _fifty_ to-day.

_President._ If I am wrong, Gentlemen, I’ll appeal to the voice of the company.

_All._ No! no! It’s all right. Sit down--sit down.

_Ensign Luby._ Bring in the wine quicker, _you_ Glundy--dy’ hear, d--n ye!

_Glundy._ Yes, Sir.

(_Servant runs out._

_Voice without._ Yoix! there, my lads,--he--he--hip--yoix!--hark forward, my jolly dogs!--yo--io--io--io--io--hip!

(_Enter Ensign Buckskin._

_Ensign Buckskin._ How are you, my hearty Cocks!--how are you?

_All the Mess._ How are you? How do, Buck? How do?

_President._ Where the devil have you been? eh!

_Ensign Buckskin._ Been! In bed, to be sure--just got up--swallowed a basin of soup and a small glass of brandy. I was squeamish all the day; but now I’m to rights again. Waiter!--clean glass. Well, how are you, my boys?

(_Sits down._

_Ensign Newly._ How are _you_, after your last night’s work--eh?

_Ensign Buckskin._ Oh! by George, Sir, they have taken out a warrant against me.

_Ensign Newly._ For what?

_Ensign Buckskin._ For burning the old Constable’s nose. Jackson and Jones are off by coach for Fort Monkton, and so have escaped: unfortunate Jack Buckskin, as usual, comes in for a “good thing.” I shall be up before “his _Vorship_,” as the “_Coves_” call him; but d--n his eyes, I don’t care the rowel of an old spur about any infernal magistratical methodist in Winchester. Yoix! my lads! ye--he--hip--old Jack Buckskin against the d----l and all his _saints_.

[_An uproarious laugh from the company, which sets all the dogs in the house barking, and Buckskin gives a regular “view halloo,” accompanied by several of the mess._]

_President._ Well, tell us how the matter occurred. Didn’t you knock the watchman down first?

_Ensign Buckskin._ Not at all. Just hear me: Jackson and Jones, and Bob Jennings, the young clergyman--you know Bob--great favourite of the Cathedral big-wigs:--well, they and I were going quietly home about three o’clock this morning, a little merry, and just strolled into the church-yard to give little Fanny Giggleton a good-night serenade: her bed-room window, you know, looks into the church-yard. So we began singing “_Rest thee babe_” in full chorus, and finished by roaring “_Jolly companions every one_,” when the watchman came over to us and told us to go home. Jennings the clergyman was nearest to him, and bade him to go to the d----l. Charley seized his Reverence, and his Reverence seized him. I went up to the old guardian, and warned him off: he took no notice; so I caught him by the back of his collar with my left hand, and by the posterior portion of his _unspeakables_ with my right: Jennings held one arm, Jackson another, Jones before us--so on we “_run_” him out of the church-yard and up the watch-house stairs:--The watch-house, you know, is the ancient theatre, and is over the butchers’ shambles. Into it we bundled him--charged him before the night Constable with highly disorderly conduct, in disturbing gentlemen who were enjoying a song, and also with gross insolence. The Dogberry, of course, sided with the watchman. “What’s your name, Sir?” said he to me. “My name,” said I, “is Old Trumpetson, from the Cape.” He then began to write it down, “T. r. u. m. p. son, that’s it,--Trumpetson,--now I have it. Well, Mr. Trumpetson, you are one of the officers of the garrison; I know where to find you in the morning; and you Mr. Jenkins also.” My cane now happened to drop, and I took the candle off the table to look for it. The Constable stooped down also beside me--his red nose looked so tempting that I could not resist the joke--I bobbed the candle into his face; the light went out, and he roared lustily. All was now confusion: I seized a lantern and rattle--Jackson, Jones, and Jenkins ran down stairs--I after them, first locking the door outside upon the pair within; which I did in an instant. There we left them, and I suppose they neither got light nor liberty, until some of their brethren came to open the door. I know I shall meet with no mercy from old Muddlehead, the magistrate: he hates the military--and me more than all the rest.

_Ensign Luby._ Did you really burn the fellow’s nose?

_Ensign Buckskin._ Burn?--ay, that you may depend upon.

_Lieut. Short._ I saw him to-day in the barrack looking for the Commandant--his nose was in a small calico bag. [_a laugh._]

_Ensign Buckskin._ Well, they may all go to the d----l in a bunch. I’ll pay the fellow for his nose.

_Ensign Luby._ Ay, Jack, my boy, and if you want money--see here! it is at your service.

[_pulls out a handful of notes._

_Ensign Buckskin._ I don’t know that I shall run short yet; however, lend me ten: [_takes a note out of Luby’s hand_] thank you--all right, Luby; I’ll pay you, my boy.

_Ensign Luby._ Don’t mention it; I have this day received a remittance, as I said before, and any of my friends may share it as far as it will go. I have not been long in the army, but I know this--that good-fellowship is the soul of it.

_Capt. Alder._ I think you said this evening, that Trotter’s _fault_ was liberality.

_Ensign Luby._ Yes, yes--but liberality for ever! that I say.

[_A strong hiccup, together with certain rollings of the eye and screwings of the lips, now gave evidence of Mr. Luby’s intellectual state._

_Capt. Alder._ Well, gentlemen, I must be off. Will you go, Captain Bell?

_Capt Bell._ Yes.

_Capt. Saunders._ So will I.

[_The three Captains rise and withdraw._

_Ensign Luby._ Let them go: what do we want with Captains here? we are all jolly subs. now; so Buckskin give us a song.

_Ensign Simple._ I--think--I’ll--go--too. [_rises._

_Ensign Luby._ Ay, go and take your gruel.

_Ensign Simple._ I don’t know why you talk of _gruel_, Mr. Luby. I wish to go to bed early, and to rise betimes in the morning to my drill:

“Early to bed and early to rise, Make a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”

_Ensign Buckskin._ Well, no preaching! good-night--say your prayers, and tie your night-cap well on.

[_Ensign Simple now retires sulkily, accompanied by a laugh from all the company._

_Ensign Luby._ That fellow is fitter for the pro--pro--profession of a--hic--linendraper, than the the--hic--trade of a soldier. Come, I’ll give you a song.

_Ensign Buckskin._ Bravo! song! song! Now I mean to _begin_ the evening.

[_Ensign Luby sings “The glasses sparkle on the board,” so completely out of tune that nobody knows what to make of it; the conclusion, however, is loudly applauded._

_Ensign Buckskin._--

“A very good song, and very well sung,

(_Chorus by all._)

Jolly companions every one. We only live life to enjoy-- We only live life to enjoy--

How happy’s the soldier who lives on his pay, And spends half-a-crown out of six-pence a day.

We are the boys for mirth and glee-- We are the boys for jollity. And so we fell a drinking, So we fell a drinking, Drinking, drinking, So we fell a drinking.

We shan’t go home till morning, We shan’t go home till morning, We shan’t go home till morning-- ’Till daylight does appear.”

Ye--he--hip! Yoix! hark forward! stole away! e-oic!--e-oic!--e-oic!--hoo--oo--oo--hip!

_All the Mess._ Bravo! bravo! bravo!

[_Just as the song concludes, a servant enters and approaches the table._

_Servant._ Plase your honor, Gintlemin, the Major sinds his compliments to yiz, an’ hopes that yiz won’t make such an uproar; becaise the Major’s lady, my misthress, has a great headache. I know, to my own knowledge, that she took physic this mornin’, an’ complained of a gripin’. (_A roar of laughter._) Oh, ’faith! I tell yiz no lies at all at all; for she’s as crass as two sticks to boot; which always shows she’s ill.

_Ensign Buckskin._ Ill-tempered you mean, Sir. Go along, and tell the Major that we shall _endeavour_ to moderate our mirth; and, d’ ye hear?--very sorry for the Major’s lady. (_Exit Servant._) What the d----l have ladies to do living in barracks, I say.

_Ensign Luby._ Right--hic--Barracks are only fit for single men--hic! Fire away, lads! who cares for the--hic--Major?

_Ensign Newby._ Or his wife either?

_Ensign Buckskin._ He’ll have us all to drill in the morning for this. So, my lads, let us drill _him_ a little now. Song--song!

[_A tremendous noise is heard, something like the rolling of bricks or large stones down stairs._

_All the Mess._ Eh! what’s that?

_Ensign Buckskin._ It’s the Major. He has fallen down stairs. (_A similar noise is heard nearer the door._) Here he comes--now for a wigging. Don’t laugh for a dukedom.

_Voice (without)._ I’ll see who dared to serve me so--that I will.

[_The door opens, and Ensign Simple, half undressed, enters, pushing before him a small donkey. A roar of laughter greets the visitors._

_Ensign Simple._ You may laugh, Gentlemen, but I am determined to have satisfaction for this disgraceful conduct. (_Another roar of laughter._) It is no joke--it is a most disgraceful liberty to take with any one; and I will not suffer it. I neither offend nor meddle with any body, and I expect nobody will meddle with me.

_Lieut. Short._ What, in the name of all that’s beautiful! is the matter with you? Are you mad?

_Ensign Simple._ Mad! No, Sir; but I have been disgracefully treated. This donkey, Sir, has been brought up to my room, and tied fast in my bed, Sir;--the whole of my apartment, Sir, has been dirtied and disfigured by the brute. (_Shouts of laughter._) You are all concerned in this shameful trick. Why don’t you play upon those who deserve it? I never make free with any of you.

_Lieut. Short._ Perhaps that’s the reason they play tricks on you.

_Ensign Simple._ Then I am determined to put it down. I bore with former insults, but I will not with this. You took a leg of mutton and a pound of butter out of my cupboard last week, and put them between my sheets, along with the fender: this I took no notice of. But to put a creature like that into my bed, dirty as he is--I’ll never bear with it. I’ll write to my father to-morrow to come down and investigate the affair.

_Ensign Buckskin._ You must be a clever fellow, as well as a very presuming one, to fix the donkey-saddle on us. Who told you that _we_ did it?

_Ensign Simple._ I know it was some of you, if not all.

_Ensign Buckskin._ Come, ask the gentleman himself who tied him in the bed; he knows more about it than you do, a great jackass as he is.

_Ensign Luby._ (_to the Donkey._) Who tied you, Sir?--hic--eh?--He won’t answer.

_Ensign Simple._ I see you are all leagued against me, because I don’t squander my money amongst you; but I’ll have satisfaction--that I’m resolved on.

(_Ensign Luby, inattentive to the last observation, mounts the donkey and rides him round the mess-table, while Buckskin gives a tremendous view halloo! During the uproar, the Major-commanding enters with his servant, frothing at the mouth with passion._

_Major._ Turn that donkey out directly. What _can_ all this mean? Mr. Short, I am surprised that _you_, who have been a member of a _regimental_ mess, should join in such disgraceful proceedings. Who brought this animal here?

_Several Voices._ Mr. Simple.

_Major._ Then, Mr. Simple, go to your room. Consider yourself in arrest.

_Ensign Simple._ I am not to blame, Major.

_Major._ Go to your room, Sir. I’ll not hear a word to-night; your conduct is disgraceful.

_Ensign Simple._ I am not the person.

_Major._ You brought the ass into the mess-room, Sir.

_Ensign Simple._ I found him in my bed, Sir, and covered with my bed-clothes: it is impossible that I can sleep in my room to-night, from the horrid state in which the animal has left it.

(_The Major’s ire could not bear up against this; he struggled against an involuntary laugh, and had nearly overcome it, when a certain motion of the animal, and a grotesque elevation of his tail put an end to all his efforts to be severe; so he gave way to a hearty fit of laughter, in which all but Simple joined._

_Major._ Take the cursed brute away, you Sir.

(_Pat the servant pulls the Donkey out of the room._

_Pat._ He’s a horrid headsthrong baste as ever I pult.

(_Exeunt Pat and Donkey, followed by the mess-waiter._

_Major._ I see how it is, Mr. Simple; there has been a trick played off at your expense. I am very sorry that folly should lead officers to such excesses, but I fear we can never remedy the evil. I am an old officer, gentlemen--I have been thirty years in the service, and as long as I can remember a depot-mess, it has been the same--all disjointed--one scene of disagreement constantly presents itself. A number of mere boys meet together, unacquainted wholly with the rules and habits of a regiment,--uncontrolled by the friendly opinions and directions of their own superior officers, and they give way to every species of folly. I do believe that the practice of sending Ensigns to depots is most injurious to the service. A youth is sent from school to a depot, where there is not perhaps one officer of his own regiment: little or no attention is paid to his conduct; he is neither advised nor restrained, at a time when he most requires it; and the consequences are, that every folly, if not vice, assails him, and he joins his regiment with an impression which even that excellent school finds difficult to remove--his health impaired, and his pocket exhausted. Gentlemen, I am giving you a friend’s opinion, and hope every one of you will use your exertions to check the follies which prevail but too much at this depot: and let me also assure you that the sooner you all join your respective regiments the better--each of you can use your private exertions to that effect, and I will use mine.

[_This address produced symptoms of sanity in the young officers; they in the most cordial manner thanked the Major, who shook hands with them all, and the party retired in the most unexpectedly peaceable disposition._

* * * * *

The above sketch is not at all exaggerated: it is outlined for the benefit of young officers; and also in the hope that it may meet the eye of those of their superiors who may have it in their power to remedy the defect.

RECOLLECTIONS

OF THE

LAST CAMPAIGN IN THE PENINSULA.

Halt ye not for food or slumber, View not ’vantage, count not number; Jolly reapers, forward still! Grow the crop on vale or hill. Thick or scattered, stiff or lithe, It shall down before the scythe. Forward with your sickles bright, Reap the harvest of the fight.

SCOTT.

After four years of indefatigable exertions--doubt and disaster--success and glory--sickness and privation--hope and delight--the British army began to prepare for the promising campaign of 1813, under a chief whose military talents had riveted the confidence alike of his soldiers, as the citizens of that empire, for whose weal--for whose glory--for whose existence as a mistress of the world, he had shared in all the privations and sufferings of his troops, and was ready still to endure even to death, or crown his country’s hopes with success in that mighty and awful strife which engaged her so long. The winter had passed, and the early spring of Portugal had brought to that country reinforcements, money, and equipments, the want of which had but too frequently impeded the success of our army in the Peninsula. Transports were continually floating up the sunny Tagus, with their red-cross flags waving from the masts--their decks covered with glittering accoutrements, and hearty soldiers: fresh detachments and fresh regiments were daily filing off the public squares of Lisbon, to join the grand army; while the eyes of the often disappointed Portuguese followed them with patriotic hope, and their hearts and tongues ejaculated wishes for their success. The road from Lisbon to Coimbra and Vizeu, which had so often withered under the wasteful tread of war, now glistened with groups of laughing soldiers and brightening prospects; even the ruined towns of Condexia and Pumbal lost their appearance of despair, and assumed a faint aspect of hope--such as the dying feel from leech’s promises. The inhabitants everywhere were kind, the season was propitious, and the soldiery seemed to have caught a spirit of confidence which reacted on the people; and if it did not entirely remove their doubts and fears, it tended considerably to advance their hopes of success, and to tranquillize their long-disturbed minds. The arrival of the Hussar brigade at Lisbon affected the Portuguese more than any of the other warlike preparations--it was a cordial to their feeble spirits. This brigade consisted of the 10th, 15th, and 18th Hussars; and certainly its appearance was sufficient to encourage them highly;--the genius of romantic chivalry never imagined a more warlike and beautiful body of horse--their perfect discipline--their splendid equipments--their health and spirits--the true British halo which seemed to glisten around them--all conspired to elevate the Lisbonians almost to a certainty of success in the approaching campaign.