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.]