CHAPTER XVIII.
From Kilkenny the regiment removed to Dublin, where, being quartered in a barrack outside the town, the dull sameness of our duty was broken in upon by little worthy of relation. One incident, however, I may relate, that will not only support opinions advanced in this work, but also give me an opportunity of doing justice to an individual, which inadvertence only caused me to delay so long.
While in Kilkenny we got a musician from a militia regiment to teach our band. He was a first-rate performer; but in saying so, I sum up all his good qualities, for a more ignorant mulish blockhead I never met with. Our officers, listening only to the sweet sounds which he elicited from the various instruments, thought he could not fail to make our band as good musicians as himself, and proud of his acquirements, they granted him every indulgence; but he had no more art in communicating his knowledge of the science to others, than the clarionet on which he played; and his morose, overbearing temper actually kept the regiment in a constant broil. Not a day passed, nay, scarcely an hour, without a complaint from him, against some one or another; and as those complaints were sometimes listened to, and the individuals complained of punished in some shape to please him, the life of a musician in the regiment was no enviable one. Among them was a young lad of the name of Reston, whose growing talent, in spite of every obstacle, threatened to outdo his master—this roused his jealousy, and he prohibited him, on various pretences, from the use of both music and instruments, by which he might have improved himself; but, not content with this, he tormented him by all the nameless methods which a superior in the army can, I am sorry to say, too often do with impunity. Poor Reston was known to the officers andhis comrades as a boy of remarkably precocious talent, not in music alone, but in every thing; and naturally of a proud spirit, he could ill brook the insult and oppression which was heaped upon him, and seeing that his enemy was supported in every thing that he did, his mind was wrought up to desperation, and he deserted—taking his passage in a vessel from Dublin to Glasgow, where his parents resided.
On his arrival there, instead of endeavouring to palliate his offence, they represented it to him in the most heinous light, urged him, as the only way to amend his fault, to return to his regiment immediately; and lest anything might deter him, his mother accompanied him to Dublin, and gave him up to the commanding officer. Reston was pardoned, and re-commenced his duty; but the spirit of his oppressor was in no way altered—he took every opportunity of provoking him. Reston’s feelings were keen in the extreme; but he suffered patiently for a length of time, until one morning, when the regiment was going out to drill, provoked beyond measure by taunts and insults, he replied in terms that were construed into something resembling mutiny—this was immediately reported by the fellow who had aggravated him—the consequence was, that he was tried by a court martial on the field, and punished. He did not receive more than twenty-five lashes, when he fainted and was taken down—his back was little hurt, but the scourge had entered his soul—he never recovered it. He begged his friends strongly to purchase his discharge, and they made the necessary application at head-quarters, but it was resisted at the regiment. Seeing this, his mother travelled to London herself, and petitioned His Royal Highness for her son’s discharge, representing her own services to urge its being granted; but the usual official routine being gone through, the required permission was again combated at the regiment, and declined at head-quarters. The consequence was, that poor Reston was driven to despair, and seeing no hopeof being relieved by any other means from the oppression under which he groaned, he again deserted, and has never since been heard of.
Thus, a young man of genius, and abilities of no common kind, was ruined, to keep in countenance one of the veriest blockheads that ever appeared in human shape, who at length sunk into well-merited disgrace, but not before many good men were punished, and otherwise unjustly used for his sake.
I have alluded to his mother representing her services to the commander-in-chief—I shall now give her character, and then leave the reader to judge whether she had not some claim upon the indulgence of those in office at head-quarters.
She was the individual who distinguished herself so nobly at Matagorda, near Cadiz, while the French were besieging the latter place in 1810. Her husband was then a sergeant in the ninety-fourth regiment, and one of the detachment that occupied that fort, when the French bombarded it with thirty piece of cannon. It may be easily conceived what havoc would be created by so much artillery playing upon a place not more than an hundred yards square, and it may also be imagined that few women could have maintained ordinary courage or self-possession in such a place: but from the commencement of the action she behaved in a manner which it is scarcely in my power to do justice to. The bomb-proofs being too small to contain the whole garrison, some of the men had huts formed on the battery, and among the rest was that of Mrs Reston. When the French opened upon us, she was wakened out of her sleep by a twenty-four pound shot striking the facine where her head lay; but nothing daunted, she got up, and removing her child, a boy of four years old, down to the bomb-proof, she assisted the surgeon in dressing the wounded men, who were fast increasing on his hands, for which purpose she tore up her own linen and that of her husband. Water being needed, one of the drum-boys was desired to go and draw some from the well in the centre of the battery; buthe did not seem much inclined to the task, and was lingering at the door with the bucket dangling in his hand.—‘Why don’t you go for the water?’ said the surgeon.—‘The poor thing’s frightened,’ said Mrs Reston, ‘and no wonder at it: give it to me, and I’ll go for it.’ So saying, she relieved the drummer from the perilous duty, and amid the dreadful discharge of artillery playing upon the battery, she let down the vessel to fill it with water—she had scarcely done so, when the rope was cut by a shot; but she determined to get her message with her, and begging the assistance of a sailor, she recovered the bucket, and brought it filled with water down to the bomb-proof, where her attention to the wounded soldiers was beyond all praise. In the intervals, she carried sand bags for the repair of the battery, handed along ammunition, and supplied the men at the guns with wine and water; and when the other two women (who had been in hysterics in one of the bomb-proofs, from the time the action had commenced,) were leaving the battery, she refused to go. Next morning our ammunition being expended, we ceased firing, and the French, seeing the dilapidated state of the fort, sent down a strong force to take possession of the place; and our men were mustered for their reception, when Mrs Reston was at her post with the others, determined to share in the danger. It was a critical moment, for had they got under the range of our guns, our efforts would have been unavailing. Through the ruinous state of the fort, three guns, all that we could bring to bear upon them, were crammed with loose powder, grape, ball cartridge, &c., to the muzzle, ready for a farewell shot, and when they came within two or three hundred yards of the fort, we poured their contents into the very heart of the column, and laid the half of them prostrate on the earth. Those who survived took to flight—their batteries again opened, and a fresh supply of ammunition having arrived for us, we returned their salute; but the place being found untenable, the surviving part of the garrison were withdrawn by the boats of our fleet.
Mrs Reston still exhibited the same undaunted spirit. She made three different journeys across the battery for her husband’s necessaries and her own. The last was for her child, who was lying in the bomb-proof. I think I see her yet, while the shot and shell were flying thick around her, bending her body over it to shield it from danger by the exposure of her own person. Luckily she escaped unhurt, and still lives, and is at present residing in Glasgow. But will it be believed that she never received the smallest token of approbation for her intrepid conduct, and the service which she rendered on that occasion?
After her husband was some time discharged, she was induced, at the instigation of officers who were well acquainted with her heroic conduct, to make a representation to the commander-in-chief, who warmly recommended her case to the Secretary at War; but the cold reply was, that he had no funds at his disposal for such a purpose. Generous, noble nation! surely the advocates for economy had little to find fault with here.
Mrs Reston is now advanced in years,[21]and although her husband enjoys the regulated pension for his services, he is unable to work for his subsistence, and surely one shilling and tenpence a-day to support two individuals, is no great excuse, as it has been made, for not making any exertion in her favour.
The only instance of the kind, exclusive of that related, that I witnessed in the course of my service, was in the person of a woman who lived as the wife of a captain of one of the light companies of our brigade. She accompanied him through the campaign, exposed to all the dangers and privations attending on such a life, with a devotedness that no legally-married woman could have surpassed. At the battle of Vittoria, when the army was engaged, she was left with the baggage; but hearing from some of the disabled men that thecaptain was wounded, she mounted her horse, and galloped down into the scene of action, regardless of the danger, to seek out and relieve him wherever he might be. She found him when he had breathed his last, and stopped by him until he was buried. This was an appalling blow for her: she was left friendless in a strange country; but those who paid her any little attention in the captain’s lifetime, now felt no compassion for her. Her gold watch, her favourite pony, and all that she formerly held through her protector, were taken from her, and a short time after, I saw her struggling through the mud on the line of march, with the shoes torn off her feet. She soon after disappeared, but what became of her I do not know.
FOOTNOTES:[21]Since the publication of this work, her husband is dead, and she is now living in the poor-house of Glasgow.
[21]Since the publication of this work, her husband is dead, and she is now living in the poor-house of Glasgow.
[21]Since the publication of this work, her husband is dead, and she is now living in the poor-house of Glasgow.