Chapter I: The King's Shilling

Harris's "Recollections" begin with the simplicity and directness of one of De Foe's tales:--

"My father was a shepherd, and I was a sheep-boy from my earliest
youth. Indeed, as soon almost as I could run I began helping my
father to look after the sheep on the downs of Blandford, in
Dorsetshire, where I was born. Whilst I continued to tend the flocks
and herds under my charge, and occasionally in the long winter nights
to learn the art of making shoes, I grew a hardy little chap, and was
one fine day, in the year 1802, drawn as a soldier for the Army of
Reserve. Thus, without troubling myself much about the change which
was to take place in the hitherto quiet routine of my days, I was
drafted into the 66th Regiment of Foot, bade good-bye to my shepherd
companions, and was obliged to leave my father without an assistant
to collect his flocks, just as he was beginning more than ever to
require one; nay, indeed, I may say to want tending and looking after
himself, for old age and infirmity were coming on him, his hair was
growing as white as the sleet of our downs, and his countenance
becoming as furrowed as the ploughed fields around. However, as I had
no choice in the matter, it was quite as well that I did not grieve
over my fate.

"My father tried hard to buy me off, and would have persuaded the
sergeant of the 66th that I was of no use as a soldier from having
maimed my right hand (by breaking the forefinger when a child).
The sergeant, however, said I was just the sort of little chap he
wanted, and off he went, carrying me (amongst a batch of recruits he
had collected) away with him."

Harris's earliest experiences as a soldier naturally made the deepest impressions upon him. He found himself in a new world, with new comrades, and under strange new laws--laws with sanctions, swift, inevitable, and terrible--behind them. Here is one of his earlier stories:--

"Whilst lying at Winchester (where we remained three months), young
as I was in the profession, I was picked out amongst others to
perform a piece of duty that for many years afterwards remained
deeply impressed upon my mind, and gave me the first impression of
the stern duties of a soldier's life. A private of the 70th Regiment
had deserted from that corps, and afterwards enlisted into several
other regiments, indeed I was told at the time (though I cannot
answer for so great a number) that sixteen different times he had
received the bounty and then stolen off. Being, however, caught at
last, he was brought to trial at Portsmouth, and sentenced by general
court-martial to be shot.

"The 66th received a route to Portsmouth to be present on the
occasion, and as the execution would be a good hint to us young 'uns,
there were four lads picked out of our corps to assist in this piece
of duty, myself being one of the number chosen.

"Besides these men, four soldiers from three other regiments were
ordered on the firing-party, making sixteen in all. The place of
execution was Portsdown Hill, near Hilsea Barracks, and the different
regiments assembled must have composed a force of about fifteen
thousand men, having been assembled from the Isle of Wight, from
Chichester, Gosport, and other places. The sight was very imposing,
and appeared to make a deep impression on all there. As for myself,
I felt that I would have given a good round sum (had I possessed it)
to have been in any situation rather than the one in which I now
found myself; and when I looked into the faces of my companions, I
saw, by the pallor and anxiety depicted in each countenance, the
reflection of my own feelings. When all was ready, we were moved to
the front, and the culprit was brought out. He made a short speech
to the parade, acknowledging the justice of his sentence, and that
drinking and evil company had brought the punishment upon him.

"He behaved himself firmly and well, and did not seem at all to
flinch. After being blindfolded, he was desired to kneel down behind
a coffin which was placed on the ground, and the drum-major of
the Hilsea depôt, giving us an expressive glance, we immediately
commenced loading.

"This was done in the deepest silence, and the next moment we were
primed and ready. There was then a dreadful pause for a few moments,
and the drum-major, again looking towards us, gave the signal before
agreed upon (a flourish of his cane) and we levelled and fired. We
had been previously strictly enjoined to be steady and take good aim,
and the poor fellow, pierced by several balls, fell heavily upon his
back; and as he lay, with his arms pinioned to his sides, I observed
that his hands waved for a few moments, like the fins of a fish, when
in the agonies of death. The drum-major also observed the movement,
and, making another signal, four of our party immediately stepped up
to the prostrate body, and placing the muzzles of their pieces to the
head, fired, and put him out of his misery. The different regiments
then fell back by companies, and the word being given to march past
in slow time, when each company came in line with the body the word
was given to 'mark time,' and then 'eyes left,' in order that we
might all observe the terrible example. We then moved onwards, and
marched from the ground to our different quarters.

"The 66th stopped that night about three miles from Portsdown Hill,
and in the morning we returned to Winchester. The officer in command
that day, I remember, was General Whitelocke, who was afterwards
brought to court-martial himself. This was the first time of our
seeing that officer. The next meeting was at Buenos Ayres, and during
the confusion of that day one of us received an order from the fiery
Craufurd to shoot the traitor dead if he could see him in the battle,
many others of the Rifles receiving the same order from that fine and
chivalrous officer.

"The unfortunate issue of the Buenos Ayres affair is matter of
history, and I have nothing to say about it, but I well remember
the impression it made upon us all at the time, and that Sir John
Moore was present at Whitelocke's court-martial; General Craufurd,
and I think General Auchmuty, Captain Eleder of the Rifles, Captain
Dickson, and one of our privates being witnesses.

"So enraged was Craufurd against him, that I heard say he strove
hard to have him shot. Whitelocke's father I also heard was at
his son's trial, and cried like an infant during the proceedings.
Whitelocke's sword was broken over his head, I was told, and for
months afterwards, when our men took their glass, they used to give
as a toast, 'success to "grey hairs," but bad luck to "White-locks."'
Indeed, that toast was drunk in all the public-houses around for many
a day."

The 66th was shortly afterwards sent to Ireland; and Harris, who had shown himself smart and intelligent, was put into the light company of his regiment. While in Dublin he saw some companies of the famous 95th Rifles marching. They bore the signature of Sir John Moore's soldierly hand on them; and Harris records that "I fell so in love with their smart, dashing, and devil-may-care appearance that nothing would serve me till I was a rifleman myself," and meeting a recruiting party of the regiment, he volunteered into the second battalion. He gives a strangely interesting account of the recruits which formed the raw material out of which Wellington evolved the magnificent soldiers of the Peninsula--men with whom, to use Wellington's own words, he "could go anywhere, and do anything." Rougher, wilder material--half savage and half child-like--than these recruits can hardly be imagined. Certainly no such strange human material finds its way into British barracks to-day:--

"This recruiting-party were all Irishmen, and had been sent over from
England to collect (amongst others) men from the Irish Militia, and
were just about to return to England. I think they were as reckless
and devil-may-care a set of men as ever I beheld, either before or
since.

"Being joined by a sergeant of the 92nd Highlanders, and a Highland
piper of the same regiment (also a pair of real rollicking blades),
I thought we should all have gone mad together. We started on our
journey, one beautiful morning, in tip-top spirits, from the Royal
Oak, at Cashel; the whole lot of us (early as it was) being three
sheets in the wind. When we paraded before the door of the Royal Oak,
the landlord and landlady of the inn, who were quite as lively, came
reeling forth, with two decanters of whisky, which they thrust into
the fists of the sergeants, making them a present of decanters and
all, to carry along with them, and refresh themselves on the march.
The piper then struck up, the sergeants flourished their decanters,
and the whole rout commenced a terrific yell. We then all began to
dance, and danced through the town, every now and then stopping for
another pull at the whisky decanters. Thus we kept it up till we had
danced, drank, shouted, and piped thirteen Irish miles, from Cashel
to Clonmel. Such a day, I think, I never spent, as I enjoyed with
these fellows; and on arriving at Clonmel, we were as 'glorious' as
any soldiers in all Christendom need wish to be.

"In about ten days after this, our sergeants had collected together
a good batch of recruits, and we started for England. Some few days
before we embarked (as if we had not been bothered enough already
with the unruly Paddies), we were nearly pestered to death with a
detachment of old Irishwomen, who came from different parts (on
hearing of their sons having enlisted), in order to endeavour to
get them away from us. Following us down to the water's edge, they
hung to their offspring and, dragging them away, sent forth such
dismal howls and moans that it was quite distracting to hear them.
The lieutenant commanding the party, ordered me (being the only
Englishman present) to endeavour to keep them back. It was, however,
as much as I could do to preserve myself being torn to pieces by
them, and I was glad to escape out of their hands.

"At length we got our lads safe on board, and set sail for England.
No sooner were we out at sea, however, than our troubles began afresh
with these hot-headed Paddies; for, having now nothing else to do,
they got up a dreadful quarrel amongst themselves, and a religious
row immediately took place, the Catholics reviling the Protestants
to such a degree that a general fight ensued. The poor Protestants
(being few in number) soon got the worst of it, and as fast as we
made matters up among them, they broke out afresh and began the riot
again.

"From Bath we marched to Andover, and when we came upon Salisbury
Plain, our Irish friends got up a fresh row. At first they appeared
uncommonly pleased with the scene, and, dispersing over the soft
carpet of the Downs, commenced a series of Irish jigs till at length
as one of the Catholics was setting to his partner (a Protestant), he
gave a whoop and a leap into the air, and at the same time (as if he
couldn't bear the partnership of a heretic any longer), dealt him a
tremendous blow with his shillelagh, and stretched him upon the sod.
This was quite enough, and the bludgeons immediately began playing
away at a tremendous rate.

"The poor Protestants were again quickly disposed of, and then arose
a cry of 'Huzza for the Wicklow boys,' 'Huzza for the Connaught
boys,' 'Huzza for Munster,' and 'Huzza for Ulster!' They then
recommenced the fight as if they were determined to make an end
of their soldiering altogether upon Salisbury Plains. We had, I
remember, four officers with us, and they did their best to pacify
their pugnacious recruits. One thrust himself amongst them, but was
instantly knocked down for his pains, so that he was glad enough to
escape. After they had completely tired themselves, they began to
slacken in their endeavours, and apparently to feel the effect of the
blows they dealt each other, and at length suffering themselves to be
pacified, the officers got them into Andover.

"Scarcely had we been a couple of hours there, and obtained some
refreshment, ere these incorrigible blackguards again commenced
quarrelling, and collecting together in the streets, created so
serious a disturbance that the officers, getting together a body
of constables, seized some of the most violent and succeeded in
thrusting them into the town jail; upon this their companions again
collected, and endeavoured to break open the prison gates.

"Baffled in this attempt, they rushed through the streets knocking
down everybody they met. The drums now commenced beating up for a
volunteer corps of the town, which, quickly mustering, drew up in
the street before the jail, and immediately were ordered to load
with ball. This somewhat pacified the rioters, and our officers
persuading them to listen to a promise of pardon for the past, peace
was at length restored amongst them."

Harris's first experience of active service was in that obscure and more than half-forgotten expedition to Copenhagen in 1807. Harris found that coming under fire was, on the whole, an exhilarating experience. Certainly the manner in which he bore himself when first he heard the whistle of hostile bullets showed he had the makings of a good soldier.

"The expedition consisted of about 30,000 men, and at the moment of
our getting on shore, the whole force set up one simultaneous and
tremendous cheer, a sound I cannot describe, it seemed so inspiring.
This, indeed, was the first time of my hearing the style in which our
men give tongue when they get near the enemy, though afterwards my
ears became pretty well accustomed to such sounds.

"As soon as we got on shore the Rifles were pushed forward as the
advance, in chain order, through some thick woods of fir, and when
we had cleared these woods and approached Copenhagen, sentries were
posted on the roads and openings leading towards the town, in order
to intercept all comers and prevent all supplies. Such posts we
occupied for about three days and nights, whilst the town was being
fired on by our shipping. I rather think this was the first time of
Congreve rockets being brought into play, and as they rushed through
the air in the dark, they appeared like so many fiery serpents,
creating, I should think, terrible dismay amongst the besieged.

"As the main army came up, we advanced and got as near under the
walls of the place as we could without being endangered by the fire
from our own shipping. We now received orders ourselves to commence
firing, and the rattling of the guns I shall not easily forget.

"I felt so much exhilarated that I could hardly keep back, and was
checked by the commander of the company (Captain Leech), who called
to me by name to keep my place. About this time, my front-rank man,
a tall fellow named Jack Johnson, showed a disposition as though
the firing had on him an effect the reverse of what it had on many
others of the company, for he seemed inclined to hang back, and once
or twice turned round in my face. I was a rear-rank man, and porting
my piece, in the excitement of the moment I swore that if he did not
keep his ground, I would shoot him dead on the spot, so that he found
it would be quite as dangerous for him to return as to go on.

"I feel sorry to record the want of courage of this man, but I do
so with the less pain as it gives me the opportunity of saying
that during many years' arduous service, it is the only instance I
remember of a British soldier endeavouring to hold back when his
comrades were going forward. Indeed, Johnson was never again held in
estimation amongst the Rifle corps; for the story got wind that I had
threatened to shoot him for cowardice in the field, and Lieutenant
Cox mentioned to the colonel that he had overheard my doing so; and
such was the contempt the man was held in by the Rifles, that he was
soon afterwards removed from amongst us to a veteran battalion."