Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. IX.—February, 1851.—Vol. II.Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. IX.—February, 1851.—Vol. II.
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
The inclosure, which, more orchard than garden, occupied a space of a
couple of acres, was the head-quarters of Colonel Charost; and here, in
a pavilion formerly dedicated to hoes, rakes, rolling-stones, and garden
tools, we were now established to the number of fourteen. As the space
beneath the roof was barely sufficient for the Colonel's personal use,
the officers of his staff occupied convenient spots in the vicinity. My
station was under a large damson tree, the fruit of which afforded me,
more than once, the only meal I tasted from early morning till late at
night; not, I must say, from any lack of provisions, for the Palace
abounded with every requisite of the table, but that, such was the
pressure of business, we were not able to leave off work even for
half-an-hour during the day.
A subaltern's guard of grenadiers, divided into small parties, did duty
in the garden; and it was striking to mark the contrast between these
bronzed and war-worn figures and the reckless, tatterdemalion host
around us. Never was seen such a scare-crow set! Wild-looking, ragged
wretches, their long, lank hair hanging down their necks and shoulders,
usually barefooted, and with every sign of starvation in their features;
they stood in groups and knots, gesticulating, screaming, hurraing, and
singing, in all the exuberance of a joy that caught some, at least, of
its inspiration from whisky.
It was utterly vain to attempt to keep order among them; even the effort
to make them defile singly through the gate into the garden was soon
found impracticable, without the employment of a degree of force that
our adviser, Kerrigan, pronounced would be injudicious. Not only the men
made their way in, but great numbers of women, and even children also;
and there they were, seated around fires, roasting their potatoes in
this bivouac fashion, as though they had deserted hearth and home to
follow us.
Such was the avidity to get arms--of which the distribution was
announced to take place here--that several had sealed the wall in their
impatience, and as they were more or less in drink, some disastrous
accidents were momentarily occurring, adding the cries and exclamations
of suffering to the ruder chorus of joy and revelry that went on
unceasingly.
The impression--we soon saw how absurd it was--the impression that we
should do nothing that might hurt the national sensibilities, but
concede all to the exuberant ardor of a bold people, eager to be led
against their enemies, induced us to submit to every imaginable breach
of order and discipline.
"In a day or two, they'll be like your own men; you'll not know them
from a battalion of the line. Those fellows will be like a wall under
fire."
Such and such like were the assurances we were listening to all day, and
it would have been like treason to the cause to have refused them
credence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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