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THE TRUMPET-MAJORJOHN LOVEDAY
A SOLDIER IN THE WAR WITH BUONAPARTEANDROBERT HIS BROTHERFIRST MATE IN THE MERCHANT SERVICE
A TALE
BYTHOMAS HARDY
WITH A MAP OF WESSEX
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITEDST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON1920
COPYRIGHT
_First Edition_ (3 _vols._) 1880. _New Edition_ (1 _vol._) _andreprints_ 1881-1893_New Edition and reprints_ 1896-1900_First published by Macmillan and Co._, _Crown_ 8_vo_, 1903. _Reprinted_1906, 1910, 1914_Pocket Edition_ 1907. _Reprinted_ 1909, 1912, 1915, 1917, 1919, 1920
PREFACE
The present tale is founded more largely on testimony--oral andwritten--than any other in this series. The external incidents whichdirect its course are mostly an unexaggerated reproduction of therecollections of old persons well known to the author in childhood, butnow long dead, who were eye-witnesses of those scenes. If whollytranscribed their recollections would have filled a volume thrice thelength of 'The Trumpet-Major.'
Down to the middle of this century, and later, there were not wanting, inthe neighbourhood of the places more or less clearly indicated herein,casual relics of the circumstances amid which the action moves--ourpreparations for defence against the threatened invasion of England byBuonaparte. An outhouse door riddled with bullet-holes, which had beenextemporized by a solitary man as a target for firelock practice when thelanding was hourly expected, a heap of bricks and clods on a beacon-hill,which had formed the chimney and walls of the hut occupied by the beacon-keeper, worm-eaten shafts and iron heads of pikes for the use of thosewho had no better weapons, ridges on the down thrown up during theencampment, fragments of volunteer uniform, and other such lingeringremains, brought to my imagination in early childhood the state ofaffairs at the date of the war more vividly than volumes of history couldhave done.
Those who have attempted to construct a coherent narrative of past timesfrom the fragmentary information furnished by survivors, are aware of thedifficulty of ascertaining the true sequence of events indiscriminatelyrecalled. For this purpose the newspapers of the date wereindispensable. Of other documents consulted I may mention, for thesatisfaction of those who love a true story, that the 'Address to allRanks and Descriptions of Englishmen' was transcribed from an originalcopy in a local museum; that the hieroglyphic portrait of Napoleonexisted as a print down to the present day in an old woman's cottage near'Overcombe;' that the particulars of the King's doings at his favouritewatering-place were augmented by details from records of the time. Thedrilling scene of the local militia received some additions from anaccount given in so grave a work as Gifford's 'History of the Wars of theFrench Revolution' (London, 1817). But on reference to the History Ifind I was mistaken in supposing the account to be advanced as authentic,or to refer to rural England. However, it does in a large degree accordwith the local traditions of such scenes that I have heard recounted,times without number, and the system of drill was tested by reference tothe Army Regulations of 1801, and other military handbooks. Almost thewhole narrative of the supposed landing of the French in the Bay is fromoral relation as aforesaid. Other proofs of the veracity of thischronicle have escaped my recollection.
T. H.
_October_ 1895.
I. WHAT WAS SEEN FROM THE WINDOW OVERLOOKING THE DOWN
In the days of high-waisted and muslin-gowned women, when the vast amountof soldiering going on in the country was a cause of much trembling tothe sex, there lived in a village near the Wessex coast two ladies ofgood report, though unfortunately of limited means. The elder was a Mrs.Martha Garland, a landscape-painter's widow, and the other was her onlydaughter Anne.
Anne was fair, very fair, in a poetical sense; but in complexion she wasof that particular tint between blonde and brunette which isinconveniently left without a name. Her eyes were honest and inquiring,her mouth cleanly cut and yet not classical, the middle point of herupper lip scarcely descending so far as it should have done by rights, sothat at the merest pleasant thought, not to mention a smile, portions oftwo or three white teeth were uncovered whether she would or not. Somepeople said that this was very attractive. She was graceful and slender,and, though but little above five feet in height, could draw herself upto look tall. In her manner, in her comings and goings, in her 'I'll dothis,' or 'I'll do that,' she combined dignity with sweetness as no othergirl could do; and any impressionable stranger youths who passed by wereled to yearn for a windfall of speech from her, and to see at the sametime that they would not get it. In short, beneath all that was charmingand simple in this young woman there lurked a real firmness, unperceivedat first, as the speck of colour lurks unperceived in the heart of thepalest parsley flower.
She wore a white handkerchief to cover her white neck, and a cap on herhead with a pink ribbon round it, tied in a bow at the front. She had agreat variety of these cap-ribbons, the young men being fond of sendingthem to her as presents until they fell definitely in love with a specialsweetheart elsewhere, when they left off doing so. Between the border ofher cap and her forehead were ranged a row of round brown curls, likeswallows' nests under eaves.
She lived with her widowed mother in a portion of an ancient buildingformerly a manor-house, but now a mill, which, being too large for hisown requirements, the miller had found it convenient to divide andappropriate in part to these highly respectable tenants. In thisdwelling Mrs. Garland's and Anne's ears were soothed morning, noon, andnight by the music of the mill, the wheels and cogs of which, being ofwood, produced notes that might have borne in their minds a remoteresemblance to the wooden tones of the stopped diapason in an organ.Occasionally, when the miller was bolting, there was added to thesecontinuous sounds the cheerful clicking of the hopper, which did notdeprive them of rest except when it was kept going all night; and overand above all this they had the pleasure of knowing that there crept inthrough every crevice, door, and window of their dwelling, howevertightly closed, a subtle mist of superfine flour from the grinding room,quite invisible, but making its presence known in the course of time bygiving a pallid and ghostly look to the best furniture. The millerfrequently apologized to his tenants for the intrusion of this insidiousdry fog; but the widow was of a friendly and thankful nature, and shesaid that she did not mind it at all, being as it was, not nasty dirt,but the blessed staff of life.
By good-humour of this sort, and in other ways, Mrs. Garland acknowledgedher friendship for her neighbour, with whom Anne and herself associatedto an extent which she never could have anticipated when, tempted by thelowness of the rent, they first removed thither after her husband's deathfrom a larger house at the other end of the village. Those who havelived in remote places where there is what is called no society willcomprehend the gradual levelling of distinctions that went on in thiscase at some sacrifice of gentility on the part of one household. Thewidow was sometimes sorry to find with what readiness Anne caught up somedialect-word or accent from the miller and his friends; but he was sogood and true-hearted a man, and she so easy-minded, unambitious a woman,that she would not make life a solitude for fastidious reasons. Morethan all, she had good ground for thinking that the miller secretlyadmired her, and this added a piquancy to the situation.
* * * * *
On a fine summer morning, when the leaves were warm under the sun, andthe more industrious bees abroad, diving into every blue and red cup thatcould possibly be considered a flower, Anne was sitting at the backwindow of her mother's portion of the house, measuring out lengths ofworsted for a fringed rug that she was making, which lay, about three-quarters finished, beside her. The work, though chromatically brilliant,was tedious: a hearth-rug was a thing which nobody worked at from mor
ningto night; it was taken up and put down; it was in the chair, on thefloor, across the hand-rail, under the bed, kicked here, kicked there,rolled away in the closet, brought out again, and so on more capriciouslyperhaps than any other home-made article. Nobody was expected to finisha rug within a calculable period, and the wools of the beginning becamefaded and historical before the end was reached. A sense of thisinherent nature of worsted-work rather than idleness led Anne to lookrather frequently from the open casement.
Immediately before her was the large, smooth millpond, over-full, andintruding into the hedge and into the road. The water, with its flowingleaves and spots of froth, was stealing away, like Time, under the darkarch, to tumble over the great slimy wheel within. On the other side ofthe mill-pond was an open place called the Cross, because it was three-quarters of one, two lanes and a cattle-drive meeting there. It was thegeneral rendezvous and arena of the surrounding village. Behind this asteep slope rose high into the sky, merging in a wide and open down, nowlittered with sheep newly shorn. The upland by its height completelysheltered the mill and village from north winds, making summers ofsprings, reducing winters to autumn temperatures, and permitting myrtleto flourish in the open air.
The heaviness of noon pervaded the scene, and under its influence thesheep had ceased to feed. Nobody was standing at the Cross, the fewinhabitants being indoors at their dinner. No human being was on thedown, and no human eye or interest but Anne's seemed to be concerned withit. The bees still worked on, and the butterflies did not rest fromroving, their smallness seeming to shield them from the stagnating effectthat this turning moment of day had on larger creatures. Otherwise allwas still.
The girl glanced at the down and the sheep for no particular reason; thesteep margin of turf and daisies rising above the roofs, chimneys, apple-trees, and church tower of the hamlet around her, bounded the view fromher position, and it was necessary to look somewhere when she raised herhead. While thus engaged in working and stopping her attention wasattracted by the sudden rising and running away of the sheep squatted onthe down; and there succeeded sounds of a heavy tramping over the hardsod which the sheep had quitted, the tramp being accompanied by ametallic jingle. Turning her eyes further she beheld two cavalrysoldiers on bulky grey chargers, armed and accoutred throughout,ascending the down at a point to the left where the incline wascomparatively easy. The burnished chains, buckles, and plates of theirtrappings shone like little looking-glasses, and the blue, red, and whiteabout them was unsubdued by weather or wear.
The two troopers rode proudly on, as if nothing less than crowns andempires ever concerned their magnificent minds. They reached that partof the down which lay just in front of her, where they came to a halt. Inanother minute there appeared behind them a group containing some half-dozen more of the same sort. These came on, halted, and dismountedlikewise.
Two of the soldiers then walked some distance onward together, when onestood still, the other advancing further, and stretching a white line oftape between them. Two more of the men marched to another outlyingpoint, where they made marks in the ground. Thus they walked about andtook distances, obviously according to some preconcerted scheme.
At the end of this systematic proceeding one solitary horseman--acommissioned officer, if his uniform could be judged rightly at thatdistance--rode up the down, went over the ground, looked at what theothers had done, and seemed to think that it was good. And then the girlheard yet louder tramps and clankings, and she beheld rising from wherethe others had risen a whole column of cavalry in marching order. At adistance behind these came a cloud of dust enveloping more and moretroops, their arms and accoutrements reflecting the sun through the hazein faint flashes, stars, and streaks of light. The whole body approachedslowly towards the plateau at the top of the down.
Anne threw down her work, and letting her eyes remain on the nearingmasses of cavalry, the worsteds getting entangled as they would, said,'Mother, mother; come here! Here's such a fine sight! What does itmean? What can they be going to do up there?'
The mother thus invoked ran upstairs and came forward to the window. Shewas a woman of sanguine mouth and eye, unheroic manner, and pleasantgeneral appearance; a little more tarnished as to surface, but not muchworse in contour than the girl herself.
Widow Garland's thoughts were those of the period. 'Can it be theFrench,' she said, arranging herself for the extremest form ofconsternation. 'Can that arch-enemy of mankind have landed at last?' Itshould be stated that at this time there were two arch-enemies ofmankind--Satan as usual, and Buonaparte, who had sprung up and eclipsedhis elder rival altogether. Mrs. Garland alluded, of course, to thejunior gentleman.
'It cannot be he,' said Anne. 'Ah! there's Simon Burden, the man whowatches at the beacon. He'll know!'
She waved her hand to an aged form of the same colour as the road, whohad just appeared beyond the mill-pond, and who, though active, was bowedto that degree which almost reproaches a feeling observer for standingupright. The arrival of the soldiery had drawn him out from his drop ofdrink at the 'Duke of York' as it had attracted Anne. At her call hecrossed the mill-bridge, and came towards the window.
Anne inquired of him what it all meant; but Simon Burden, withoutanswering, continued to move on with parted gums, staring at the cavalryon his own private account with a concern that people often show abouttemporal phenomena when such matters can affect them but a short timelonger. 'You'll walk into the millpond!' said Anne. 'What are theydoing? You were a soldier many years ago, and ought to know.'
'Don't ask me, Mis'ess Anne,' said the military relic, depositing hisbody against the wall one limb at a time. 'I were only in the foot, yeknow, and never had a clear understanding of horses. Ay, I be a old man,and of no judgment now.' Some additional pressure, however, caused himto search further in his worm-eaten magazine of ideas, and he found thathe did know in a dim irresponsible way. The soldiers must have comethere to camp: those men they had seen first were the markers: they hadcome on before the rest to measure out the ground. He who hadaccompanied them was the quartermaster. 'And so you see they have gotall the lines marked out by the time the regiment have come up,' headded. 'And then they will--well-a-deary! who'd ha' supposed thatOvercombe would see such a day as this!'
'And then they will--'
'Then-- Ah, it's gone from me again!' said Simon. 'O, and then they willraise their tents, you know, and picket their horses. That was it; so itwas.'
By this time the column of horse had ascended into full view, and theyformed a lively spectacle as they rode along the high ground in marchingorder, backed by the pale blue sky, and lit by the southerly sun. Theiruniform was bright and attractive; white buckskin pantaloons,three-quarter boots, scarlet shakos set off with lace, mustachios waxedto a needle point; and above all, those richly ornamented blue jacketsmantled with the historic pelisse--that fascination to women, andencumbrance to the wearers themselves.
''Tis the York Hussars!' said Simon Burden, brightening like a dyingember fanned. 'Foreigners to a man, and enrolled long since my time. Butas good hearty comrades, they say, as you'll find in the King's service.'
'Here are more and different ones,' said Mrs. Garland.
Other troops had, during the last few minutes, been ascending the down ata remoter point, and now drew near. These were of different weight andbuild from the others; lighter men, in helmet hats, with white plumes.
'I don't know which I like best,' said Anne. 'These, I think, afterall.'
Simon, who had been looking hard at the latter, now said that they werethe --th Dragoons.
'All Englishmen they,' said the old man. 'They lay at Budmouth barracksa few years ago.'
'They did. I remember it,' said Mrs. Garland.
'And lots of the chaps about here 'listed at the time,' said Simon. 'Ican call to mind that there was--ah, 'tis gone from me again! However,all that's of little account now.'
The dragoons passed in front of the lookers-on a
s the others had done,and their gay plumes, which had hung lazily during the ascent, swung tonorthward as they reached the top, showing that on the summit a freshbreeze blew. 'But look across there,' said Anne. There had entered uponthe down from another direction several battalions of foot, in whitekerseymere breeches and cloth gaiters. They seemed to be weary from along march, the original black of their gaiters and boots being whity-brown with dust. Presently came regimental waggons, and the privatecanteen carts which followed at the end of a convoy.
The space in front of the mill-pond was now occupied by nearly all theinhabitants of the village, who had turned out in alarm, and remained forpleasure, their eyes lighted up with interest in what they saw; fortrappings and regimentals, war horses and men, in towns an attraction,were here almost a sublimity.
The troops filed to their lines, dismounted, and in quick time took offtheir accoutrements, rolled up their sheep-skins, picketed and unbittedtheir horses, and made ready to erect the tents as soon as they could betaken from the waggons and brought forward. When this was done, at agiven signal the canvases flew up from the sod; and thenceforth every manhad a place in which to lay his head.
Though nobody seemed to be looking on but the few at the window and inthe village street, there were, as a matter of fact, many eyes convergingupon that military arrival in its high and conspicuous position, not tomention the glances of birds and other wild creatures. Men in distantgardens, women in orchards and at cottage-doors, shepherds on remotehills, turnip-hoers in blue-green enclosures miles away, captains withspy-glasses out at sea, were regarding the picture keenly. Those threeor four thousand men of one machine-like movement, some of themswashbucklers by nature; others, doubtless, of a quiet shop-keepingdisposition who had inadvertently got into uniform--all of them hadarrived from nobody knew where, and hence were matter of great curiosity.They seemed to the mere eye to belong to a different order of beings fromthose who inhabited the valleys below. Apparently unconscious andcareless of what all the world was doing elsewhere, they remainedpicturesquely engrossed in the business of making themselves a habitationon the isolated spot which they had chosen.
Mrs. Garland was of a festive and sanguine turn of mind, a woman soon setup and soon set down, and the coming of the regiments quite excited her.She thought there was reason for putting on her best cap, thought thatperhaps there was not; that she would hurry on the dinner and go out inthe afternoon; then that she would, after all, do nothing unusual, norshow any silly excitements whatever, since they were unbecoming in amother and a widow. Thus circumscribing her intentions till she wastoned down to an ordinary person of forty, Mrs. Garland accompanied herdaughter downstairs to dine, saying, 'Presently we will call on MillerLoveday, and hear what he thinks of it all.'