by Dudley Costello (uncredited).
Originally published in Household Words (Bradbury & Evans) vol.2 #43 (18 Jan 1851).
Part I—Initiation.
Maurice Savage was one of a family of seven children, whose parents were poor cottagers in Wiltshire, and lived—as poor cottagers contrive to live—on the lowest wages for the hardest labour. The father's strength and the mother's health failed them utterly before their eldest girl was twelve years old, and they both died within a few months of each other, leaving their family on the parish. Seven fresh inmates in one day were a serious pull on the funds of a union so heavily burdened with paupers as Wallington; but Mr. Broadcast, the overseer, was a man fertile in expedients and prompt in the execution of his plans; and before a week had gone by since he first heard the formidable announcement of "We are seven!" he had contrived to draft four out of the number in such a way as to relieve the parish from much of the threatened expense, and so to dispose of the others as to make it fall lightly on the rates.
The three eldest, who were girls, gave their unpaid services to neighbouring farmers, by whom they were employed chiefly in house-hold work. Maurice, the fourth, was initiated also into the mysteries of a farmer's life; but as his age did not admit even of turnip-pulling, he began literally at the beginning and officiated for the first year or two as a scare-crow. In this capacity, when he didn't go birds' nesting, or blackberrying, or fall asleep—occurrences which were not rare—he figured with a certain degree of respectability. To trace his agricultural career through the several phases of cattle-driving, swine-tending, potato-digging, hay-making, sheep-washing, mowing and reaping, till he attained the dignity of a ploughboy doing a ploughman's work, would be beside the purpose of this narrative. We find him at eighteen years of age in the capacity just mentioned.
What Maurice longed for was to do as his elder sisters had done—get up to London. They had all found "places," and why should not he likewise? He did not aim at being a butler all at once, or even at the situation of a valet. But what he wanted was "to better himself," and he conceived that London was the best place for him to make the attempt in. He rose with the sun one fine summer's morning, and disregarding the formality of leave-taking, employed his legs to such good purpose, that before the sun set he was well-nigh fifty miles from Wallington, on his way to the golden metropolis. He had no bed to go to, and his supper was somewhat of the scantiest; but he had not been so tenderly nurtured as to make him think the lee of a haystack a very uncomfortable couch ; or a piece of bread—the gift of a woman nearly as poor as himself—worse than nothing. He slept without nightmare, and rose sufficiently refreshed to enable him to look at the eighteen or twenty miles that yet lay before him as less than half a day's journey.
That half day's journey was got over—with a little limping, it is true, but still accomplished—and Maurice found himself in London, quite at liberty to select any employment that presented itself for his choice. But an awkward ploughboy, barely eighteen years old, is not exactly the person to find employment the moment he asks for it, in a city where, according to the popular belief, "one half of those who go out in the morning have no certain knowledge that they shall get a meal before they return at night."
He accordingly passed the first four-and-twenty hours of his visit to the metropolis, without food, or the slightest means of procuring it, and might have repeated the programme, to the catastrophe—starvation; but just as he was thinking whether it would not be as well to return to Wiltshire, chance threw him in the way of a recruiting party, very gaily decorated with ribbons of every hue, and having that devil-may-care expression on their countenances, which proves so irresistible both to youth and maiden. To encounter a young fellow like Maurice, with famine in his eyes, and thirst, long unslaked, on his dry lips—strong tokens of the ardent recruit—was a godsend to Sergeant Pike who commanded the party, and who, at the moment, was very much put to it to make up a batch of recruits. He accordingly invited Maurice to "step in" and "take a pot," to which bread and cheese were speedily added, and then, in military phrase, the Serjeant at once broke ground.
This gallant individual did not, it is true, find Maurice altogether unprepared for the proposition which he made him, to accept the short cut to fortune which is so obviously within the reach of every private soldier in the British army; for Where is the country lad to be found, who has not indulged in the splendid vision, whether impelled towards it by the love of glory, or the perfidious conduct of "Nancy?" But the notion was too indistinct for any practical application, till the certainty of its realisation was set forth in the glowing language of Sergeant Pike. A few pints of beer, a red-herring, or "soger," as he facetiously called it, an exordium on the light, easy, "ge'tl'm'ly" duties of the soldier, a glass or two of hot whiskey and water,—a brief allusion to the Duke of Wellington's career,—"his luck, you know, may be yours or mine to-morrow,"—and then came the inevitable shilling which, from a mere hawbuck, converted Maurice Savage into a full private in Her Majesty's service.
Medical inspection and attestation over, our Wiltshire recruit was forthwith despatched, with some ten or a dozen other aspirants for glory, under proper charge to the head-quarters of the regiment quartered at Manchester. A few years before the enlistment of Maurice Savage, a tedious, toilsome and comfortless march would have formed the introduction to his military duties, with amongst other evils, a facility for desertion, in the event of the hot fit having passed away; but the railway obviated all these inconveniences, and instead of being twelve days on the road, the journey was now performed in half as many hours; and the recruits arrived at their destination perfectly fresh, and quite of opinion that a soldier's life must be a pleasant one, since at the very outset they were allowed to ride in carriages!
This idea was slightly modified the next day, when they were formed into a squad, and the process of "setting-up" began. The first glance at a batch of recruits from an agricultural district, is not particularly re-assuring; to knead and mould the clods into shape, appears almost a hopeless undertaking, at least to the uninitiated; but Corporal Rattler was an experienced hand, and had dealt so much in stubborn materials, that the word "difficulty" found no place in his vocabulary. The men were there to be drilled and made soldiers of, and it was not his fault if he did not turn them out perfect. Corporal Rattler was a fine, soldierlike fellow, standing six-feet-one in his stockings, straight as an arrow, and flexible as an eel; he had "the gift of the gab" to a surprising extent, was "smart" in all his movements, and knew his duty thoroughly. There was only one draw-back to his many qualifications, but that was a fatal one; he was given to drink. But for this propensity, he might long before have attained the rank of Serjeant-Major of the regiment, with a very fair prospect of a commission; but the canteen within the barrack-yard, and the public-houses outside, neutralised all his advantages, and got him so frequently into disgrace that advancement was out of the question, and the rank of Corporal, which he was allowed to hold, was solely for the purpose of giving him authority with the recruits he was employed to train. The kindest remonstrances, as well as measures of no slight severity, had been resorted to by the adjutant and the commanding officer, and no man was more penitent for his faults than Corporal Rattler, nor more prodigal of promises for future good-behaviour. But, unfortunately, the "invisible spirit" of drink overcame all, and instead of what he might have been—a model to imitate—he became an example to shun. No permanent command, involving a separate responsibility, was, therefore, ever entrusted to him; but his services were too valuable as a drill to admit of his being displaced in that capacity; and a constant supervision being at hand, no harm was likely to accrue from giving him such employment.
Corporal Rattler was a master of slang, and had a happy manner of applying his jokes, which were a perfect comedy to every body but the individuals, the immediate object of them; and whether he was busy with his recruits, or taking a hand at "Fives" when parade was over, there was sure to be a large audience of men off duty,—and now and then an officer, a little apart from the rest,—to enjoy the fun. Maurice Savage was a frequent theme for Corporal Rattler's wit; his name lent itself to all sorts of allusions—none of them complimentary—and his personal appearance gave them additional point. The out-line of the Corporal's tuition might run thus:
"Now then, Mister Savage,—we're not in the woods to-day! There's broad day-light upon us;—let's see if we can't teach you a little civi-li-sation! Up with your head,—nobody's a-goin' to take your scalp; straighten them knees, you shall go to prayers by-and-by, when your limbs is supple enough! don't clench your fistes as if you'd got tommyhawks in 'em, Mister Savage! Shut that mouth! we didn't come on parade to catch flies;—we're not cannyballs, Mister Savage, we're not! Now then, hide that there belly! bellies ain't of no use in the army, besides being contrairy to the articles of war. I shall have to keep you here till tattoo, though I suppose you're tattooed already, Mister Savage, &c., ≈c," with more of the same kind to an indefinite extent, indifferent enough to read, but sufficiently amusing to hear, when it served as a running commentary on the awkwardness of the young soldier.
By dint, however, of much drilling, this awkwardness gradually wore off, though the ordeal was severe for a youth, who was naturally disposed to prefer idleness to work, and who had entered the army for the purpose of "taking it easy." At daybreak the "Réveille" was beat—probably by Addison's spectral drummer—for unless he who did it, handled the drumsticks in his sleep, it was difficult to imagine that the regularity of the warning was not supernatural. At this sound there was an immediate stir in the barrack-room, and woe betide any lazy recruit who laid down his head for another "forty winks" to dream of the paternal pigsty, which haply he might never see again; the water for the morning ablutions would have been applied in so liberal a manner as at once to convince the dreamer that "cold pig" was a reality. To dress as quickly, but at the same time as carefully as possible, was the first thought, but before the toilet was quite finished each man made his bed after the military fashion, rolling up his paillasse, folding the bed-clothes separately and laying them on the top, with a prescribed neatness, which soon became habit; and then the iron bedstead itself was pulled out from the wall and turned over, giving room for the men to move, and allowing the air to circulate freely. Until practice had made him perfect, Maurice Savage found it no easy matter to be quite ready to fall in, when, a second time, the drum beat for the "Assembly." He then scurried out to the parade, and took his appointed place in the squad; a minute inspection followed, by that awful inquisitor-general, the Sergeant-Major (a functionary who, in a moment of relaxation, permits the "non-commissioned" to call him "Major" only); and if a single button of his fatigue jacket were undone, if the buttons themselves were not as bright as rotten-stone could make them, if his forage cap were not put on at precisely the proper angle, if the clasp of his stock were dull or unfastened. and if, moreover, he were not perfectly clean from head to foot, adieu, for that day at least, to all chance of recreation, unless he happened to take delight in confinement to barracks, with a few hours extra drill. But whether the drill were extra or regular appeared much the same sort of thing to Maurice Savage, for except during the brief period allotted for meals, his impression was that he was always at it. A vision of Corporal Rattler, with his sharp tones, and short flexible cane, was ever present to his imagination; and, to say the truth, it did not require any violent exercise of the imagination to conjure him, at any moment, before the unhappy recruits in all the physical identity of six-feet-one.
At length the goose-step was abandoned, the pacing-stick laid aside, and the time-keeping bullet returned, with the string attached to it, to Corporal Rattler's pocket. Maurice Savage had achieved the difficult arts of standing upright, of balancing himself—like a crane—on one foot, of stepping out fairly with a pointed toe and raised instep, of facing to all the points of the compass, by whole, half and quarter movements, of turning round upon himself—like the late Lord Londonderry—of keeping step without kicking his front rank man; of doing all, in short, that a soldier is made to do before arms are put into his hands. When these feats were accomplished, he was introduced to "Brown Bess," and many a weary hour he passed in that lady's society, acquiring a knowledge of the various purposes, ornamental as well as useful, to which the musket can be applied. Occasionally, when there was a demand elsewhere for Corporal Rattler's services, or when perchance, that worthy was himself under a cloud for "inebriation" (as the pompous Sergeant-Major, who never used any but the finest words, always called it), a Scottish instructor, one Sergeant MacFile, would inculcate the mysteries of the "Manual and Platoon." This transfer was not very favourable to the pupil's rapid progress; for whereas the word of command or instruction from Corporal Rattler, was always brief, clear and intelligible, that which fell from the lips of Sergeant MacFile, was shrouded by a dialect which kept the listener perpetually on the tenter-hooks, to understand him. Thus, in order to "present arms," a movement, not without grace or effect, when well executed, Maurice was required to have his "Bally een, cheest advanced, coke-heed appasite laft grine, and lat the waght of the bodie rast upon the taes," a passage of arms which, for want of comprehending the language it was described in, he was far from rendering either graceful or effective. So, also, when he was told to mind his "prymin' and loddin' peseetion," the instructions which were to render that position valuable, might have attained that object much sooner if there had been a dragoman at his elbow to translate broad Scots into honest Wilts. Under the auspices of Sergeant MacFile, a military education was the pursuit of knowledge under very great difficulties—under those of Corporal Rattler, difficulties existed, but they arose from the nature of the subject,—his system was explicit enough, and was enforced by methods, which needed no foreign interpretation.
The day, at last, came when the MacFile clog was no longer a stumbling-block, and Maurice Savage was reported fit for duty. Six months had greatly changed him, not only in his outward appearance, but in the "moral" of that individual. It is true he had still a red head, but it was clipped very close, and, in a manner, absorbed by the blaze of his regimentals; the number of freckles had not diminished beneath the influence of out-door exercise; but, while the hue of health was on his cheek, their presence was of little consequence, as the facsimile of his countenance was not wanted to adorn a hair-dresser's shop. On the other hand, his features had begun to express some of the intelligence which was working within him, and the ungainliness, which had been a reproach, was quite gone,—thanks to the rough practice of Corporal Rattler, who treated his recruits much in the same way that Abernethy did his patients.
Maurice Savage, as we have already intimated, had not reclined upon a bed of down during the above-mentioned six months, neither had his couch been rendered uneasy by too many rose-leaves; but, if he slept hard, fatigue made his sleep a sound one; and, if he took more exercise than he had bargained for in the outset, the result was an appetite of the most enviable description—for it was one that was always satisfied. And this allusion brings us to a question of some interest with regard to the mode of living of thousands of our unmilitary countrymen, who have an equal stimulus to hunger with the soldier: equal—nay, better means of gratifying it; but who—not acting in concert, having, in short, no "mess"—eat their food in an ill-prepared state, with little profit to their health, and very little enjoyment. "A shilling a-day"—says the old song—
"Is very good pay;
It's double a tāster—
The King's a good māster," &c.. &c.—
and out of the shilling a-day rather more than two-thirds are deducted for the soldier's daily sustenance. But this sum, which we will call eightpence—the odd halfpenny in the stoppages being placed to the account of "washing"—provides him with everything he strictly requires in the way of meat; an an extra penny for "beer-money" supplies him with "drink." This "eightpence" gives him a pound of good bread, half of which he eats at breakfast with a canteen-full of tea or coffee, according to the nature of the mess, and the other half he disposes of with his "pound of flesh," which is not eaten after Shylock's receipt, but rather more à la Soyer, in the shape of well-boiled meat and good soup, and accompanied by potatoes, onions, and other vegetable condiments. If anything remains out of the eightpence, which, when prices are high, is a somewhat rare occurrence, an evening repast of tea or coffee is added, with such a portion of bread as may have been saved from the preceding meals. That this meal ought not, however, to be a rarity, but a regular thing, will be admitted by all who consider that, unless he provides himself, the soldier has nothing to eat from one o'clock in the day till eight the following morning,—a fast of nineteen hours.[1]
The soldier's dinner is, however, a good one, and ought to be so; for, besides that the provisions are always good, military cooks serve their apprenticeship to that as well as to other duties; two men per Company being off duty, for that purpose, at intervals long enough to give them some knowledge of the art. There are various superintendents to have an eye upon the cooks' proceedings; the old hands who have dabbled in the mystery; the quarter-master serjeant, who weighs out the materials for it; and the officer of the day, who inspects the kettles before they are removed from the kitchens, besides attending afterwards, when the messes are actually served out, and ascertaining that all is right, by personal observation and particular inquiry.
With regard to a body of workmen in a factory, or other large establishment, why, we ask, should not some such system be adopted as prevails in the army? A quarter-master might easily be found to purchase provisions at wholesale prices; cooking places could always be obtained, and persons honest and skilful enough procured to prepare meals of an excellent description; and those at an individual cost far less than the daily outlay of each workman who provides his own dinner how and where he can.
The dream of an easy life in the army had been almost dissipated by six months' drill, but not quite. The comparative freedom which the old soldier enjoyed, was looked upon with envy and yearning by Maurice Savage, before his name was included in the roster of effective men. But when the experience of a few weeks had made it clear to him what a soldier's life, even in "piping time of peace," really was, he came to the conclusion that, one way or another, he was as much worked in his military capacity as if he had stuck to his bucolical pursuits, though the work was of a different description. Like the plough-man or the common labourer, his work was cut out for him as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning. Instead of a team of horses he had a set of accoutrements to look after, belts to pipeclay, pouch to polish, knapsack to pack, and arms to keep in order—a harder task at first than yoking Boxer and Badger. Instead of turning over a nine-acre field at his own clod-hopping pace, he had to traverse the same extent of ground in ordinary, in quick, in double, in every variety of "time," with fourteen pounds' weight of musket and bayonet on his shoulders, and more than double that load on his back in the shape of a full knapsack, folded great coat and canteen; in that condition, in short, which is known as being "in heavy marching order." Not always, of course, but often enough to convince him that "playing at soldiers" was as serious a pursuit as whistling at the plough, let the clay-soil be as stiff as you please. Then there came guard-mounting—with breakfast between, where the full private had the advantage of the ploughman, if not in quantity, at all events in quality and comfort—but the duty involved in mounting guard, though not so laborious as carting manure, was more particular as well as more fragrant. A day's work in the fields is, after all, but a day's work, while mounting guard is an occupation which not only includes the day but the night also. To say nothing of the loneliness or remoteness of the post, the fact of being on sentry for eight hours out of the twenty-four, and half that time in the dark, under the heaviest penalty if sleep should be indulged in, was not so agreeable in practice, as turning in to the loft or flock-bed and snoring till daylight. When it happened also, from the nature of the garrison, the number of sick in hospital and other causes, that the troops have only three or perhaps two nights in bed, the pleasure of guard-mounting is not very greatly enhanced in the estimation of a heavy sleeper.
However, without pursuing the contrast between military and agricultural pursuits any further, it may be enough to say that Maurice Savage found that the former gave him quite as much to do as the latter, and that he was not quite so much his own master. A ploughboy is not, perhaps, the most independent person in creation; and if he runs away from one employer must find another, or starve: but he seems to have a kind of choice, little as the choice may be worth. The soldier, on the other hand, who longs for liberty, and helps himself to it, has no fresh master to seek; he is quite as liable to starve, and what is worst of all, he stands the chance—if he is caught, which he generally is—of a pretty liberal allowance of punishment. On this subject we may observe, that the first time the Articles of War were read, after Maurice joined the regiment, he gave himself up for lost; he had groped his way, he thought, into a country covered with pit-falls, which threatened to entrap him at every turn. As paragraph after paragraph was thundered forth in the sonorous tones of the adjutant, he imagined that he could scarcely scratch his head in the ranks without being liable to "suffer DEATH, or such other punishment as by a general Court-martial shall be awarded"—the latter alternative sounding as formidable in his ears as death itself; and it was a long time before he acquired a precise knowledge of what the crimes were, which were thus severely visited.
But "use lessens marvel;" and as, by degrees, he found that hanging, drawing, and quartering, were not things of every day occurrence in the regiment; that his company was not decimated hourly; and that the worst which befel his comrades for ordinary faults, (and there were rarely any other committed), was a little extra drill, a few days confinement to barracks, and some twenty-four hours seclusion in the "Black Hole," (the name of which, however, he could never abide); he plucked up heart, and resolved to take his chance of what might befal. Having adopted this view of the case, his original terror subsided, and he came to look cheerfully on his new position, though he had made a slight mistake in the beginning, in believing every word that fell from the lying lips of Sergeant Pike, a gentleman whose appetite for recruits was as great as that of his scaly namesake for every description of bait.
1. We are glad to perceive (while this article was being written) that advantage has been taken of the existing low price of provisions, and that the condition of the soldier serving in the Colonies, with regard to the stoppage exacted for his ration, has, very recently, been under the consideration of the Government, and that it is intended to reduce the rate from five-pence, at which it stands at present, to threepence-halfpenny. The necessity for this step has been made apparent in the evidence taken before the Committee on Army and Ordnance Expenditure; and the effect of lowering the cost of the ration of one pound of meat and one pound of bread to threepence-halfpenny, will be to leave to the soldier abroad eightpence-halfpenny, out of which he will provide himself with other articles of food conducive to his health and comfort.