The retrospect of these vengeful days, while it serves to fix my faith in true religion, as contrasted with that which is false, calls forth unfeigned gratitude to God for His protecting mercy. Exposed as my mother and family were to the pelting of the pitiless hurricane, none of us sustained material personal injury. I have before stated that my mother was conscientiously attached to the tenets, such as they are, of the Church of Rome. I never observed anything reprehensible in her conduct, though no one was more constant than she at the confessional; neither know I to which of the saints she was disposed, on emergency, to turn. That she loved the Saviour, and was willing to wash the feet of the servants of her Lord, I can safely affirm. I can vouch for the constancy and zeal of her private prayers and intercessions: I know that the practices of her life agreed with the engagements of her lips: and I cannot help thinking that she was a noble proof that God is no respecter of persons; that holiness of heart may subsist in the most defective dispensation; and that whoever seeks the face of God, through the merits of His Son, in the path of penitence and faith, even though cumbered with mistaken doctrinal views, shall not be cast away. The time, the extent, and the unwitting nature of her ignorance God winked at: he saw that she erred through ignorance. The eye of His omniscience pierced through the veil of her mental delusion to the uprightness of intention that dwelt within; and I believe, through Divine mercy, she went down to her grave justified by grace, ‘hallowed and made meet for heaven.’
Agreeably with the religious views which my mother had entertained, she endeavoured to teach me the principles of Papacy. I was, moreover, frequently taken to mass: but, being young and heedless, one system of religion was to me as good as another; in other words, I was careless respecting them all. Indeed, I have reason to believe that my indifference in this respect was to my mother a source of great grief. Meantime I had arrived at the fourteenth year of my age; a period, generally speaking, of no small vanity and self-complacency, and in which many men think themselves qualified, by the dignity of their teens, to shake off the trammels of parental guidance. Among others, I determined to walk alone; but unfortunately I cannot, on reflection, boast of my first step. Among the youths with whom I contracted some acquaintance, was a dissolute lad about my own age; by whose enticement, when only just turned fifteen, I enlisted in the Queen’s County militia. Not that my conduct, like his, had been openly immoral; yet he had gained over me an ascendancy I could not resist. Evil communications corrupt good manners; and perhaps the apparent freedom, the frankness and gaiety of an open-hearted soldier’s holiday life, had an influence which, though not acknowledged, was really felt. But, O, my mother! for when I became a soldier she was still living. I had in this deed of hardihood well-nigh forgotten her.
But she remembered me; and when I thought thereon, I wept. Never shall I forget her last, her parting look! My elder brother had settled at some distance; and on the eve of my departure to share in unknown danger, had unexpectedly arrived. If bereaved of her children, she was bereaved; and I know she said in her heart, ‘All these things are against me.’ Her farewell was accompanied with a prayer for my future prosperity; and I impute my preservation, under Providence, through life, to the pious lessons and examples of my excellent mother. On leaving her presence on this eventful occasion, I was taken before Captain Fitzmaurice, the officer in command at the recruiting station, and was kindly received. He expressed himself pleased with my look and healthy appearance; made several minute inquiries relative to my family, and at once engaged me as his servant. After serving in the corps about twelve months, I received, principally, I believe, on account of my youth, an honourable discharge, while the regiment was stationed at the Castle barrack in Limerick, and returned to the quietude of home.
Habits of dissipation may be contracted at pleasure; but when once confirmed by repetition, they are not so easily dismissed. This is especially true in youth; and I soon found that though I had retired beneath the roof of an excellent parent, my disposition to wander wide was still the same. Contentedness of mind I found was a state, not a place. The roll of the spirit-stirring drum, the glittering file of bayonets, with the pomp and circumstance of military parade, not unmingled perhaps with undefined thoughts of ultimate promotion, passed in review before my imagination, in colours vividly charming: resistance was vain. To this alluring panorama was added the consideration that, though only seventeen, I had reached the height of persons required by regimental rule. In fact, on the 6th of April, 1806, I enlisted in the 43rd Regiment of the line, and in company with several other recruits proceeded to Cork, where we embarked for Bristol, at which place, after a rough passage, we safely landed; and in a few days reached the town of Ashford, in Kent, where the regiment was quartered.
Events and shifting scenes had crowded one after another with such rapidity since I left home, that reflection was drowned; but the first night in which I lay down in the barracks, memory began to be busy. I could not help thinking of the peaceful fireside I had left; and in despite of my most vigorous effort to shake off the intrusion, conscience would not be denied, and the image of my mother, deserted at her utmost need, and pinched perhaps by want, was a source of great uneasiness. But having passed the Rubicon, retreat I knew was out of the question. Independently of the conflict within, my situation in the barrack was not adapted to afford much present consolation. The sleeping-room of which I was an inmate was an oblong building of unusually large dimensions, and was occupied by three companies of a hundred men each. They were chiefly volunteers, and of course young soldiers. Many were Irish, many more were English, several Welshmen were intermingled, and a few Scotchmen came in to complete the whole. Most of these, and that was the only point of general resemblance, had indulged in excessive drinking. Some were uproariously merry; on others the effect was directly the reverse, and nothing less than a fight, it mattered not with whom, would satisfy. Meantime, as they were unable to abuse each other in language mutually intelligible, exclamations profanely jocular or absurdly rancorous rang through the building: altogether, the coalition of discordant verbiage was such as to beggar all description, and can be likened to nothing of which I ever heard or read, except the confusion on the plains of Babel. Never will the occurrence of that night be effaced from my mind. Surely, thought I, hell from beneath is moved to engulf us all. These disorderly proceedings, thank God! were of short continuance. In a few weeks we marched to more convenient quarters, a few miles distant. The salutary restraints of discreetly-managed discipline spake chaos into order, and my situation became comparatively comfortable.
How it has happened I know not, but through all the changes of my life, and they have been neither few nor trifling, I never lacked a friend. One of the first of these has been alluded to; and another belonged to the battalion to which I found myself attached, and, though no relative of mine, was of the same name. He was exceedingly kind on numerous occasions; and it will be readily believed, that the smallest act of civility in favour of a mere novice, at the commencement of his military life, was valuable. The drill of the regiment was severe; but I passed muster without difficulty, and had, in addition, the good fortune to attract the notice of our colonel, a fine old Scotchman; and the first time I mounted guard I was selected by the adjutant as his orderly. This preference, as I had never seen actual service, was perhaps to be imputed to neatness of dress, and the condition of my arms and accoutrements, in which, though only a private, I saw it my duty to be particular; added to this, I was remarkable for flexibility of limb and muscular power, thoroughly understood the use of my weapons, and, unless flattered, had the advantage of a good figure.
That was a period of uncommon vigilance throughout the British army, especially with regard to the corps stationed along the shores of Kent. On the opposite side, and almost within sight, numerous and well-disciplined masses of troops had for some time been encamped under the personal inspection, it was said, of Napoleon, who entertained the vainglorious project of conquering Britain. The harbour of Boulogne contained a numerous and well-appointed flotilla, in which were to embark the long-expected invading force. In the opinion of the best judges, the attempt, even with favouring wind and tide, would have failed. Had the navigation of the high seas by the medium of steam been understood and applied at that time, a naval engagement, in the view of perhaps both countries, might have recalled the fury of the ancient armada, and would probably have been fought upon principles of destructive tendency till then untried. Not that the result need be doubted. Had it been possible for a few gunboats or flat-bottomed craft to elude the vigilance of an English fleet, and shoot a little rubbish upon our borders, no material injury could have arisen. Not a foreigner would have survived to tell the tale of his rashness. I know the spirit of the British army both at home and abroad, and can safely aver, that they would have given an excellent account of the intruders, or perished in repelling them. The experiment was not to be made: Providence ordered that these aggressive movements should begin and end in gasconade. Some good man has said, that the Almighty places the hedge of His providence around the abode of His people, and the hedge of His grace around their souls. My opinion is that these are the defences within which we are entrenched; and that while we keep within the guarded circle, every foe, whether secret or open, will be kept at bay.
In June, 1807, our regiment, which numbered a thousand effective men, was called into actual service; and I soon had an opportunity of observing the difference between the good-humoured rencontres of a holiday review and the tug and strife of desperate conflict. This country stood, at the beginning of the present century, nearly, if not quite, alone against the colossal influence of continental despotism. The Emperor of the French, then at the zenith of power and ambition, seemed determined to compass the globe in exertions to ruin the commerce and prosperity of England. Its welfare was an intolerable worm at the root of all his enjoyment; and among other plans in which it gratified his soul to revel was that of forming a confederacy among the northern powers of Europe, for the purpose of excluding the vessels of this country from the navigation of the Germanic waters, and bringing against it the concentrated strength of hostile navies. In this alliance it was supposed that Denmark had largely shared; and as Lord Nelson had already shown that the passage of the Sound was not so impregnable as had been thought, the British ministry resolved to send an expedition, consisting both of land and sea forces, for the purpose of capturing Copenhagen, together with the fleet in that harbour. This singular determination was defended in Parliament, not by charging the Danes with hostile intentions, but by urging their inability to resist the increasing power of France. In the opinion, however, of several creditable writers on jurisprudence and the laws of nations, the measure is to be deplored, not only because it is dishonourable in itself, but calculated to render our name odious in a country where we should otherwise have found cordial allies. There are some, observes an apostle, that say, ‘Let us do evil, that good may come.’ Such was the case apparently here, and the abettors of the act place themselves within the malediction that followed. The argument of the British cabinet was: It is possible that our antagonists, who want valuable ships, may seize the Danish navy: this is the more likely because effectual resistance cannot be offered: to remedy this awful breach of justice, in respect of a harmless neutral power, we will save all further trouble, by taking possession of the property ourselves. An illustration of three lines exhibits the unfairness of the transaction: A well-armed freebooter pounces upon his peaceable neighbour, ransacks his habitation, breaks open his coffers, abstracts the property, seriously wounds the sufferer in the scuffle, and marches off with the spoil: the burglar then justifies the act, because he has heard, that unless he make haste, an acquaintance of his, as great a thief as himself, but a far inferior pirate, with whom he has quarrelled, has thought of doing the very same thing. The government of this country supported itself on the occasion by several reasons. They urged that the Danish fleet and stores, but for the proposed interposition, must fall into the hands of Buonaparte, who wanted exactly that kind of force to act against his formidable foe; that Denmark was totally unable to prevent the seizure of her ships; that there was ground to believe that in order to conciliate the esteem of the French ruler, she would willingly yield to his desire; that in either case the result would be equally unfavourable to this country, inasmuch as the well-appointed fleet of our northern neighbours would supply our inveterate enemy with the means of annoyance in which his greatest deficiency was apparent; and that the rigid, inexorable law of necessity and self-preservation not only permitted, but demanded, the previous seizure of the instruments of intended war. But the causes of hostility between nations involve considerations concerning which a soldier is seldom called upon to trouble himself. Generally speaking, he has little right to meddle or make concerning them. While others reason, he is to obey orders, to fight and fear not; the questions he asks for conscience’ sake being few and far between.
It was on the morning of a delightful day that we broke up our quarters at Hythe, on our route to the place of embarkation. The scene was novel and to myself, who witnessed it for the first time, highly impressive. We breakfasted on the heights of Dover, and in the course of the day marched to Deal. On the following morning, we proceeded to Ramsgate. Boats for our conveyance to the transports then at anchor in the Downs were moored off the pier-head, and in a short time I found myself on board the Sally, formerly of Shields, which had been engaged by government, and fitted up for the reception of troops. The embarkation was effected in August, 1807; and I know not that any event, either before or since, connected with the casualties and privations of military life, ever struck my mind with greater force than that to which I now refer. I allude principally to the strength of affection evinced by the soldiers’ wives and children, many of whom followed in the line of our march, and whom it was impossible to shake off, though permitted to follow to the edge of the water. Indeed many were not content with that: several women insisted on going with their husbands into the boats, and actually did so. ‘Father,’ I heard a little child say, ‘shall I never see you again?’ The grief of separation at last was inevitable; and on nearing the ship’s side, I saw many an embrace, destined by the fitful chances of war to be the last indulged on earth.
Having had some experience in the army, and a tolerably extensive acquaintance with the men who compose it, I cannot permit this occasion to pass, without pointing out the necessity for and the advantage arising, in a national sense, from the asylum for the children of deceased soldiers in the British army, instituted at Chelsea, by the late Duke of York. No person ever understood and maintained the rights and reasonable solaces of a soldier better than the then commander-in-chief. Nothing on earth can exceed the coolness and intrepidity with which a British column enters into action. Their firm and steady step has often been the theme of foreign admiration; and in the clash and hurrah of crossing bayonets they are known to be unequalled. Yet every one acquainted with the finer workings of human nature must suppose (for the reflection is inevitable), that on entering within the range of a shower of bullets, the bravest heart may be troubled by thoughts of an absent family, especially if left in an unprotected and unprovided condition. But if the man have the consolation of knowing, that in the event of any personal fatality, the shield of his country’s honour and beneficence will be exhibited for the protection of his orphan family, the tendency of the recollection at such a crisis is to arm his mind with triple fortitude, and, if possible, give greater ardour to his moral courage. The mind of a man thus circumstanced is at once relieved from a load of domestic anxiety; and having nothing on earth for which to care, but the maintenance of the national weal, he casts himself upon the protection of the God of armies, and cheerfully advances to the assigned position, on the grim and serried ridge of war.