Support granted to the children of a slain soldier is at once an act of justice and of mercy. It presents itself to the mind, commended quite as much by the laws of sound policy as by those of genuine philanthropy. In fact, an institution like that for which I contend may be fairly considered as part of the soldier’s compensation, and the last reward for toil and service rendered to his country. This arrear of pay, though not immediately made, is nevertheless certain; and is to be viewed by the faint and dying warrior as a kind of life-assurance, granted by the generosity of his friends at home, secured by public faith, and payable whenever his children are deprived of their best earthly benefactor. The little pittance needful for the support of a modest but valuable charity, in behalf of a soldier’s orphan progeny, is not to be proscribed under the most rigid economy. To a great nation like this, which has for ages taken the lead in acts of general beneficence, such a step would present a solecism utterly irreconcileable either to right reason or good feeling. Were an hypothesis so eccentric and deceptive to prevail, every act of charity and almsgiving might be superseded. Hospitals might be closed; gratuitous education might cease; the stream of benevolence through its countless ramifications might no longer flow; pity itself, that gentle though honoured inmate of the human breast, might be known no more: but to call this economy would be a sad abuse of terms. Instances often arise, in which judicious expenditure is the way to effect the greatest saving; while, on the other hand, money hoarded up on parsimonious and shortsighted motives is sure to melt away. Does he save who rots the roof of his house for want of a tile? Can the ruralist talk of management, who reaps just half an average crop, for want of sufficient manure? Is it not better to preserve health, than first lose and then try to regain it?
These questions scarcely wait for reply. The affirmation is written either on the mind or heart of all; and upon principles exactly similar, the work of juvenile education, combined as it is in the Military Asylum with the sustenance of the children, and through that with the moral improvement of one of the finest armies in the world, amounts to an expression of English liberality and discrimination, the suppression of which would be a common calamity.
It has been affirmed, and is frequently the subject of sore complaint, that in some charitable foundations now in existence for the gratuitous guardianship and instruction of youth, admissions are procured by favouritism and a species of implied purchase; so that while the gate of reception is closed upon the hapless orphan, who cannot find an advocate, the entrance is invitingly open to those whose influence is sufficiently powerful to command the omnipotent ‘vote and interest.’ By this means the pious intent, nourished during the life of many a noble benefactor, is defeated; and, while he sleeps in the dust, the benefits of his endowment are diverted into channels altogether at variance with those in which the wealth bequeathed was intended to flow. Not so in the Military Asylum. It was built in order to promote the prosperity of the children of English soldiers; none but such are received, nor can admission be procured in any other form, than that projected by the impartial and even-handed rules of the institution. It is the widow and the fatherless whose cause is heard, and whose pleadings win the day. Another proof of the superiority of the institution arises from the order observed within doors: this has for years excited the admiration of visitors, numbers of whom have inspected the school at various periods. Great and persevering efforts are also made to improve and elevate the morals of the children: they are taught to fear God and honour the king, to be grateful to their benefactors, and kind to all. The services of religion are, in fact, so interwoven with the daily practices of the school, that serious impressions, unless in instances of peculiar depravity, can scarcely fail of being made.
One of the most interesting sights imaginable is to see the whole body of children assemble at the dinner hour. The perfect order and silence produced by the application of something like military system, the clean and healthy condition of the lads, on whose countenances no shadow of care is cast, the neatness of their simple but comfortable uniform, together with the judicious general arrangement, contribute to form one of the most pleasing spectacles that the world can afford. Not a word is spoken, nor is there the slightest irregularity, while in the act of assembling. The dining tables having been previously arranged, and plates of food for each man being placed upon them, the youths march, in single file and cap in hand, along the floor of the spacious apartment. They step out together with as much trueness as a veteran regiment: indeed, the steadiness of their advance and simultaneous tread have a beautiful effect. In this animated procession of health and vigour, imagination almost calls up their fathers’ forms, though slain and buried in the battlefield. When the head of each column arrives at the farther end of the tables, which are placed three abreast, and of great length, the word ‘halt’ is given. In that instant every foot is still. Each boy then places his cap upon the floor, when, on a given signal, the entire corps face about to their respective seats. Having clasped their hands in a devotional form, which is also done together, one of the larger lads, placed at the end, pronounces, in a distinct and audible voice, the ‘grace before meat;’ at the conclusion the whole of the boys respond a loud amen. The effect is beautiful, and has often been witnessed by the moistened eye of many a delighted observer. A roll of, or rather, a single touch upon, the drum is then heard, when the children take their seats and commence their meal; and, it is needless to add, enjoy the bounty of their benefactors. A similar ceremony is practised at the close. The accuracy of all the arrangements, the close and vigilant adherence to the principles and purposes for which it was founded, and the admirable provision made for the present and future welfare of the children, render the Military Asylum an institution of which the nation may be proud.
CHAPTER II.
EMBARKS FOR DENMARK—NARROW ESCAPE FROM DROWNING—LANDING OF THE FORCES—FORMIDABLE DEFENCE OF THE DANES—THEIR DEFEAT—BOMBARDMENT OF COPENHAGEN—PATRIOTISM OF THE DANES—DESCRIPTION OF THE CITY—RUINOUS EFFECTS OF THE SIEGE—SURRENDER OF THE FLEET—SUSPENSION OF HOSTILITIES—DANGEROUS PASSAGE HOME—LANDS AT YARMOUTH.
The fleet destined for the north bore away from the Downs with a fine leading breeze. It consisted of forty-two ships of war, twenty-two of which were of the line, several frigates, and a forest of transports, on board of which the forces destined to act on shore were embarked: these amounted to twenty thousand effective men, and were under the command of Lord Cathcart, while Admiral Gambier directed the naval operations. After a rough passage, we came in sight of the Danish coast about the middle of August; and early on the morning of the 16th of that month, the debarkation of the troops, under cover of several gun-brigs, commenced. We landed at Wisbeck, a small place in the island of Zealand, about eight miles from Copenhagen.
Just before leaving the vessel in which I had sailed, I had a narrow escape. The weather being warm and fine, several of the soldiers and sailors took the advantage of bathing, and I made one of the number. One morning, after having enjoyed this luxury, and just as I was half-dressed, a cry of distress was heard, and on looking over the ship’s side, a sailor, evidently unable to swim, was observed, endeavouring to float on the surface of the water by grasping an oar that happened to be within his reach: unfortunately he was unable to retain his hold, and immediately disappeared. The sea was calm, and so remarkably clear, that the spot in which he sank was easily recognised. Not a moment was to be lost; and, being an expert swimmer, I divested myself of the clothing I had put on, and dived after him. On looking about, I saw the poor fellow faintly struggling near the bottom, among some long sedgy weeds: his head being still uppermost, I seized him with one hand by the hair, and with the other was so far able to swim, as to raise both the man and myself to the surface, when on a sudden he fastened on me with a grasp so deadly, that I was incapable of moving hand or foot; and had I not been able to disengage myself, I must inevitably have perished. The struggle between us was terrific, being myself at that time scarcely seventeen years of age, and he a powerful, full-grown man. At length, by a desperate effort, I escaped from his grasp. Deprived of my buoyancy, he sank like a stone. On account of the length of time I had been under water, my preservation was little less than miraculous; indeed, one of the officers, and several of the crew, who witnessed the transaction, had given me up for lost; when to their surprise I again emerged, and was safely taken on board. Thus was I given back to light and life; but was the deliverance wrought by the prowess of my own arm? So I once thought; but the film is taken from my eyes. It was the Lord Who preserved my life, by the agency of His overruling providence. The sea confessed His mighty power, and my days declining like a shadow were graciously renewed. Diligent search was made for the body of the poor man, but without effect: it had, no doubt, drifted with the current far from the place in which the accident occurred, to be found probably no more till the sea shall give up her dead.