Chapter VII: The "tommy Atkins" of a Century Ago

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

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

* * * * *

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

* * * * *

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FOOTNOTES:

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

III

A ROYAL HIGHLANDER

III.--A ROYAL HIGHLANDER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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