Recollections of the eventful life of a soldierDonaldson, Joseph
History
Recollections of the eventful life of a soldier
Donaldson, Joseph
Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Personal narratives
however, the same as a bumpkin. They were too knowing for that. The
best way was to make up to the individual you had in your eye, and
after bidding him the time of the day, ask him what sort of web he
had in. You might be sure it was a bad one; for when a weaver turns
lazy his web is always bad: ask him how a clever, handsome-looking
fellow like him could waste his time hanging see-saw between heaven
and earth, in a damp, unwholesome shop, no better than one of the
dripping vaults in St Mungo’s church, when he could breathe the pure
air of heaven, and have little or nothing to do, if he enlisted
for a soldier,—that the weaving was going to ruin, and he had
better get into some berth, or he might soon be starved. This was,
generally, enough for a weaver; but the ploughboys had to be hooked
in a different way. When you got into conversation with them, tell
how many recruits had been made sergeants, when they enlisted—how
many were now officers. If you saw an officer pass while you were
speaking, no matter whether you knew him or not, tell him that he
was only a recruit a year ago; but now he’s so proud he won’t speak
to you; but you hope he won’t be so when he gets a commission. If
this won’t do, don’t give up chase—keep to him—tell him that in the
place where your _gallant honourable_ regiment is lying, every thing
may be had almost for nothing,—that the pigs and fowls are lying in
the streets ready roasted, with knives and forks in them, for the
soldiers to eat, whenever they please. As you find him have stomach,
strengthen the dose, and he must be overcome at last. But you must
then proceed quickly to work, before his high notions evaporate. You
must keep him drinking—don’t let him go to the door, without one of
your party with him, until he is passed the doctor and attested.’
‘But,’ said I, ‘you would not find every one so easily duped.’—‘To
be sure,’ said he, ‘some of your sentimental chaps might despise all
this, but they were the easiest caught after all. You had only to get
into heroics, and spout a great deal about glory, honour, laurels,
drums, trumpets, applauding world, deathless fame, immortality, and
all that, and you had him as safe as a mouse in a trap.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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