Читать книгу The Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome - David Roberts - Страница 4

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On Ludgate Hill, a traveller may see

John Newcome, Grocer, No. Fifty-three;

Now, sober reader, don’t turn up your nose,

But profit by the truths I shall disclose.

The Newcome family, you may believe,

Straitways descended from good Madam Eve;

Adam, a Newcome, when in Paradise,

The wily serpent did Dame Eve entice

To touch forbidden fruit; and to his shame,

Poor Adam Newcome slily did the same:

For this, from Paradise they soon were hurl’d,

And thus Cain Newcome came into the World.

’Twould be an endless job were I to trace

All the descendants of the Newcome race:

Let it suffice that I curtail my rhymes,

To scenes connected with the present Times.

Widely extended is the Newcome Name,

Some scoff’d for Folly, some renown’d for Fame;

Did we in Foreign Courts but look askance,

We find they’ve play’d the very Devil in France.

Each in his turn assum’d the Sovereign Sway,

’Till Boney Newcome drove them all away;

Mighty in deeds, his Mighty power evinces,

And makes his tribes of Newcomes Kings and Princes.

Louis to Holland went with State Regalia,

And silly Jerome king’d it at Westphalia:

Poor foolish Joe went slily into Spain,

But Paddy Newcome whipt him out again.

Ah! Honey, that’s a Newcome, if you please,

Makes Boney tremble in his Thuilleries.

His fame—but, let me onward with my story,

My humble rhymes would only mock his Glory.

In London Newcomes every where are seen,

Newcome’s a Lord, a General, Knight or Dean—

Newcomes, where’er you go, you’re sure to meet,

The Park, the Playhouse, or St. James’s Street.

Amongst our Quality, you’ll find a few,

And Carlton House has got its Newcome too.

At both the Universities you find ’em,

But in such numbers that they never mind ’em.

In all Professions, Lawyers, Fiddlers, Bards,

Lots in the Line, and many in the Guards.

This leads me to the subject of my story,

Tho’ first I thought it right to lay before ye,

By way of preface, or of introduction,

Or, if you please, a smattering of instruction;

Go as you will, no matter when, or where,

You’re sure to see a Johnny Newcome there.

Now this same Grocer was a man of weight,

Eat turtle soup, and talked of Church and State,—

For twenty years had bustled well through life,

Blest with one son by Doll his loving Wife:

The Youth, a lankey, awkward, shuffling Blade,

Bred by the old ones to pursue the Trade,

School’d by Mamma, who thought all learning stuff,

‘Young John will have the Cash, and that’s enough.’

By Martial ardour fired, John scorn’d to stop

And retail sugar in his father’s Shop!

In spite of Daddy’s wrath, and Mother’s tears,

Strutted an Ensign in the Volunteers;

But the good souls were quickly reconcil’d

In admiration of their darling Child.

Old Johnny seem’d afraid he’d be too rash,

But Mother doated on the Sword, and Sash.

Soon Johnny grew ambitious of renown,

And sigh’d to flourish in some Country Town;

In some Militia Corps, at distant Quarters,

Act the Lothario with the Wives and Daughters.

Money, or Interest, never-failing friends,

Soon did the job, and Johnny gain’d his ends.

Translated then to a Militia Beau,

Dear, lively Captain Newcome’s all the go!

Sports a gay Curricle and pair of Tits,

Damns smokey London, and the frowsy Cits;

With ardour talks of Marches, Camps, and Fight;

Such scenes as these would be his soul’s delight.

At length, one day, his spirits flush’d with Wine,

Johnny resolved to go into the Line;

Writes to Mamma a coaxer to Petition

She’d make his Father buy him a Commission.

The doating Mother dwells with anxious pause,

Ere she could send her darling to the Wars.

But as she’d ne’er refused him what he wanted,

She paid the Cash, and his request was granted:

Soon now the Official letter made it known

That Ensign Newcome, Fourth or the King’s Own,

Would on receipt immediately go,

And quick present himself at the Depôt.

What thrilling tumults in his bosom came

To see amongst the Regulars his name!

So dash’d away in wondrous haste and pother,

To take a flying leave of Dad and Mother.

A soldier bold, now Johnny vaunts and vapours,

Anticipates his name in London papers.

‘From admiration we cannot refrain,

‘The gallant Ensign Newcome’s going to Spain;

‘To shew our gratitude we don’t dissemble,

‘Heroes like him must make Massena tremble.’

Or, should a Battle ease him of his breath,

His Name’s recorded in the list of Death;

The Mortuum Caput then they thus would fill,

‘Died Ensign Newcome, late of Ludgate Hill—

‘Of twenty wounds receiv’d in an attack,

‘All in his front, he scorn’d to turn his back.

‘This sad event will be a grievous blow, Sir,

‘To Johnny Newcome, Alderman and Grocer.’1

Young John was well aware to what extent

To purchase fame a golden guinea went;

At all the Shops where characters were sold,

He could be made a Hero for his gold;

A valiant Hero then at any rate,

Our John resolv’d to be or soon, or late.

An Order now arriv’d at the Depôt,

‘That Ensign Newcome should to Hilsea go.’

Altho’ John relish’d not these hasty ways,

He bolted off to Hilsea in a chaise;

And then a Note was handed to our Spark,

‘That without loss of time he should embark.’

‘Upon my soul,’ says John, ‘this is no jest,

‘They won’t allow a man a little rest.’

Boxes and trunks were cramm’d into a Boat,

And Johnny Newcome found himself afloat.

John star’d with wonder when he got on Board,

To see himself surrounded by the Flood.

The rapid movements so confused his head,

He knew not what he did, nor what he said;

Had not his appetite, which never fail’d him,

With certain griping, knawing hints assail’d him:

For John to certain forms was true, and steady,

So eager ask’d when dinner would be ready?

‘Dinner2 I’ll warrant,’ says a churlish Elf,

‘If you want dinner, pray provide yourself;

‘You’ll get no dinner here, ’tis not the fashion,

‘We only find you Cabin, Berth, and Ration!’

‘Damme,’ says John, ‘is this your Transport way?

‘What starve a body?—rot me if I stay!’

John’s resolution now began to shake;

Did he for this his happy home forsake?

A brother Sub seeing Johnny so distrest,

Said, ‘Come, Sir, let us council for the best;

‘Money you have no doubt, and as ’tis fine

‘Let us together go on shore to dine—

‘Buy what we want, and send it to the Ship,

‘Nor ask a favour of this Savage Rip.’

John liked the offer—shook him by the hand—

Jump’d in the Boat, and off they made for Land;

Din’d, drank their Bottle, and in merry glee

Purchas’d their Stock, and went next day to Sea.

But now friend John, when tossing on the Ocean,

Felt his poor bowels in a strange commotion;

Grew serious, then grew sick, and hung his head,

Reach’d, grunted, groan’d, and stagger’d to his bed;

A prey to sorrow, sickness, and dejection,

Restless he lay, imbitter’d with reflection—

Curs’d his own folly—had he but his will,

He’d sooner retail figs on Ludgate Hill.

Poor John thus lay, till by propitious blast,

The ready Anchor’s in the Tagus cast.

Now motionless the Ship, the sickness flew,

His wondering eyes successive objects drew.

Saw the proud Tagus in smooth torrent Flow,

Greeting fair Lisbon, with its breast of Snow;

Saw Churches, Convents, o’er each other rise,

With stern devotion tow’ring to the Skies.

Our youthful Hero now we introduce,

Deck’d off in Uniform, and fiercely spruce,

With Hat of Wellington, stuck fore, and aft,

And crimson sash tied carelessly abaft.

Black Stock, Reg’mental Sword, and natty Spurs—

Without the latter there’s no Hero stirs.

Spurs3 to a gallant youth are things of course,

To make folks fancy he has got a Horse;

But as in this, opinions may divide,

Yet all must think the gallant Youth can ride;

Thus gay equipt, his bosom proudly swelling,

Seeks the Town-Major’s Office, or his Dwelling.

Now see him strutting through the sultry Streets,

Staring with all his eyes, at all he meets;

Bald-headed Friars, Ladies, hid in Veils,

Postboys with huge cock’d Hats, and monstrous Tails.

John thought they seem’d a motley group of quizzes,

With lankey jaws, black brows, and dingy phizzes.

Now reach’d the Office, in he boldly bounc’d,

And with erected front himself announc’d;

When a Staff-Officer, with a stately look,

A sort of frowning survey of him took:

‘Pray who are you?’ was pompously demanded:

‘I’m Ensign Newcome, and from England landed.’4

‘To Belem go, where orders you’ll receive;

‘Write down your Name, Sir, and then Lisbon leave.’

John bolted out, saying ‘Damme what a Beast,

‘I reckon he’s a General at least:

‘O rot this Soldier’s life, the Devil’s in it,

‘They will not let a body rest a minute;

‘I’m fairly sick of it, and so I’ll tell ’em.

‘I say, my friend, is this the way to Belem?’

‘Senhor,’ with shoulders shrugged, ‘no, no, intende.’5

‘No, in ten day! if I go there,’ says John, ‘the Devil mend me.’

A British Soldier, who was near at hand

Said, ‘Sir, our Lingo he don’t understand:

‘’Tis but three Miles, strait forward if you please,

‘There’s no use axing them there Portuguese.’

John travell’d on—but soon he slack’d his pace,

The scorching Sun came full upon his face.

‘O d——n their Climate, here’s a pretty rig,—

‘Curse me if I’m not sweating like a Pig.

‘Could I but once get home, they soon should see,

‘The Devil might have all Portugal for me.’

Grumbling and Mopping, John at length contrives,

And at the Belem Barracks6 he arrives.

But Johnny’s spirit now was softened down,

He tremulously ask’d for Captain Brown;

Announc’d himself once more, and begg’d to know

What were his Orders? where was he to go?

The Commandant observing John was heated,

Mildly requested that ‘he would be seated.’

John’s spirits had been sinking in the wane,

But thus encouraged soon revived again.

‘Why really, Sir, this service in the Line,

‘At home we reckon to be monstrous fine;

‘But since I was Gazetted, I’ll declare

‘A single moment I’ve not had to spare.’

The Captain smil’d to see poor John so sore,

And kindly said, ‘You’ll dine with me at four:

‘In the mean time, as things to you are new,

‘The Adjutant will tell you what to do.

‘Here, Orderly! step to the barrack-yard,

‘And say I wish to speak with Mr. Ward.

‘But cool yourself, and then your Billet seek;

‘I mean to keep you here at least a Week.’

John’s heart was soft—thus taken by surprize,

He felt a sort of twinkling in his eyes;

He falter’d, stammer’d, felt himself distrest,

In vain his gratitude would have exprest;

When busy, bustling Ward attends his chief,

Broke up the conference, to John’s relief.

Ward introduced, did Johnny kindly greet

(His was a heart we do not often meet);

Now arm in arm, they travell’d down the Stairs,

John found his spirits, and forgot his cares.

Tho’ truly kind was Ward, yet be it known

He was himself a Sub in the King’s Own.

A Billet7 got, the Serjeant mark’d the Door,

They took a Boat, and brought the Trunks on Shore.

‘So now,’ says Ward, ‘I always work by rule,

‘The first thing you must purchase is a Mule;

‘And if you’re flush of cash, why then, of course,

‘The next thing you must purchase is a Horse.’

‘A Servant have you got?’ John answered, ‘No.’

‘Well, well,’ says Ward, ‘there’s one I think I know;

‘An honest fellow, who ’twixt you and me,

‘Is just the sort of Man, you will agree.

‘A D——n’d good Fellow, but I rather think,

‘He now, and then, will take a drop of drink;

‘But otherwise, good-humour’d, sharp, and civil,

‘John Bull will drink, but fight like any Devil;—

‘Paddy, and Sawney Scot are just the same—

‘Here, Serjeant, tell me what’s the Fellow’s name?

‘’Tis Teague O’Connor, him I recommend,

‘He’ll suit you famously, my worthy Friend.’

So Teague was then install’d Valet, and Groom,

And sent to set to rights his Master’s Room.

As dinner-time approach’d, Ward bid him stay,

He’d home to dress, and take him on his way;

And John, rigg’d out in his Best Coat and Feather,

Waited for Ward, and off they went together.

The Commandant, with every wish to please,

Scouted those chilling forms that banish’d ease;

Tho’ plac’d in Power, Dignity, and Trust,

Was kind to all, and to the Service Just.

The dinner o’er, the festive glass did flow,

John found himself a little queer or so;

Felt too, a sort of swimming in his head,

So stole away, resolved to go to bed.

When oft to write a Book we undertake,

If from the subject we a circuit make,

Some apt allusions may our minds engage,

Perchance for profit, to swell out our Page;

The little I may venture to intrude,

I introduce, by way of Interlude.

Your mercy then, good Critics, I entreat,

Mine is a sort of stuffing to my Meat;

Something of Foreign matter I must tell,

Or this my tale will not go down so well.

In every Country there are customs known,

Which they preserve exclusively their own.8

The Portuguese, by some odd whims infected,

Have Cloacina’s temple quite rejected;

How they arrange their Worship, we shall know,

By the disaster that befel our Beau.

Our Hero gaily sporting out a Song,

And cutting angles as he glid along,

Some Damsel, heedlessly, from upper floor,

Pandora’s incense on his head did pour.

Drench’d, buffeted, he had no time to think,

Saluted by a compound of such Stink;

Smother’d all over by the filthy souse,

He reach’d his heart up, ere he reach’d his House.

Teague, by his Master’s nasty figure struck,

Dryly, ‘He wished him joy of his good luck’;

Then seiz’d a Tub, and with assiduous care,

With water wash’d the ordure from his hair.

‘Here, prythee, ease me of my Hat and Coat;

‘O C——t! the filthy stuff’s gone down my throat.

‘O curse them, and their beastly, D——n’d emulsions;

‘O Lord! my wretched guts are in convulsions!

‘Give me a Dram. ’Od rot the nasty Vixen,

‘She’s ruined my best Coat, with her d——n’d Mixen.’

Now scour’d, and sweeten’d, Johnny whining said,

‘O Teague, I’m horrid sick, shew me to Bed.’

Teague spread the folded Blanket in a crack,

And for a Pillow, placed his own Knapsack.

Astonished John his Servant’s conduct viewing,

In trem’lous accents ask’d what he was doing?

‘O, no great matter, Sir,’ replies O’Connor,

‘I’m making up your Bed, an’ plase your honour.’

‘A Bed for me!’ says John, half chok’d with rage,

Says Teague, ‘You’ll soundly sleep there, I’ll engage.’

Poor John, exhausted now, and sighing deep,

In sadness stretch’d himself, and groan’d to sleep.

Scarce had the Sun arose in all his glory,

Ere Johnny flew to Ward to tell his story.

‘Alas! dear Ward, ’tis fact what now I tell ye,

‘My wretched bones are jumbled to a jelly.

‘Then there’s my best Reg’mentals all bedevil’d

‘By that D——n’d Stink-pot which at me was levell’d.’

Ward felt an interest in his friend’s behalf,

But for his soul could not restrain a laugh.

So bid him Breakfast, and forget his cares,

And then he’d try to manage his affairs.

So said, so done. ‘And now,’ says honest Ward,

‘If I can’t set you right, it is D——n’d hard:

‘At B——’s Hotel you will get ev’ry comfort,

‘’Tis true he’ll make you pay a lumping sum for’t.’

‘O D——n the expence,’ says John, ‘’tis all as well’;

So sent Teague, Trunks and all, to the Hotel.

With Teague, John went next day to buy his stud,

A Mule9 for baggage, and a bit of Blood.

Now see him in the Fair, with anxious face,

Trying this Dobbin’s metal, t’ other’s pace.

‘I say, you Whiskers, what do you ask for that?

‘A Horse you call it—much more like a Rat.’

‘Noventa Dollars, Quienza Moidorés.’

‘How many Guineas, Mister?—what a bore he’s!’

‘No Senhor, no Guineas, no Senhor, no say.’

‘Why how the Devil then am I to pay?’

But getting Dollars, he the Dobbin bought,

When something passing, his attention caught.

‘Here, stop that Fellow, Teague, don’t let him pass;

‘I say, you Quiz, what ask you for that Ass?’

‘By Ja—s, Sir,’ says Teague, ‘you’re in a wrong Key,

‘It is a thumping Mule, and not a Donkey.’

‘What!’ retorts John, ‘do you think I am a fool?

‘What! don’t I know a Donkey from a Mule?’

But Teague was right, and so his master found,

And for the Beast, John offered Thirty Pound.

‘No,’ says the Owner, ‘but perhaps you will

‘Give Thirty-five, and I will take your Bill.’

‘My Bill,’ says John, ‘a match, Sir; it is done,

‘To touch old Daddy’s pockets, no bad fun.’

The Beasts thus bought, by Teague were taken Home;

So having time, John thought he’d take a roam.

Strolling along, he saw the Portuguese,

Instead of hand, return a hugging squeeze.10

What beasts! thinks John. I’m very sure no true man

Would hug a Fellow, as we do loved Woman;

In my dear country, Women are delightful—

None here I’ve seen as yet, but what are frightful.

Now Smith’s Repository11 came in view,

‘Ah! ah!’ says John, ‘I’ve something there to do.’

The stairs he quick ascended with a skip,

His eyes were first attracted by a Whip;

For John observ’d a Whip was most essential

To make a Martial Hero consequential.

For other matters he would then be jobbing,

A bridle, and a saddle for his Dobbin,—

Canteens, Pack-saddle, and an oil-skin Cloak;

Smith wisely said, ‘the Rain here is no joke’;

He then a small Portmanteau did propose:

‘That thing,’ says John, ‘won’t hold the half my cloaths.’

‘True, Sir,’ said Smith, ‘but you’ll have much to spare;

‘Of Forage you will get but half a share.’

Such are the Orders; you may not have seen ’em;

Two Subs are but allow’d one Mule between ’em.

‘Is that the case?’ says John, ‘then there’s some danger,

‘That my poor Beasts must live upon the Manger.12

‘No matter, ’gad I’ll keep them while I can,

‘And when I join, I then can change my plan.’

So every thing being purchased to his will,

He settled all by draft on Ludgate Hill.

This day to bus’ness he did give up solely,

And went to buy his Stock from Cavigole.13

‘Pray, Sir,’ says John, ‘do you sell Hams, and Cheese?’

‘Si Senhor, I do sell all vat you please;

‘Biscuits, & Porter, Tongues, Hollands, & Brandy.’

John crack’d his Whip, and swore ’twas all the dandy.

‘Tea, Sugar, Salt, and vat of all most nice is,

‘Pickles and Soda, good Segars and Spices.’

‘Well said, my Hearty! now I’ll tell you what,

‘Pack some of all, but in a separate lot.’

John now another Draft on Daddy drew,

Gave his address and off to Belem flew.

His time now pass’d with pleasure, and delight,

Loitering all day, and getting drunk at night.

In scenes like these, John found the week had past,

And to his Reg’ment he must go at last:

A Route receiv’d to travel off next Day,

And march to Sacavem without delay;

And thus by daily journies was to go,

Until he reach’d the Santarem Depôt.

Next morn, on Dobbin, off friend Johnny started;

Teague led the Mule, and so they both departed.

John’s legs from Dobbin nearly scrap’d the road,

The Mule close following, tott’ring ’neath its load.

Poor Teague, esteem’d by all a hearty fellow,

With parting Glass had got a little mellow:

A trifling failing here I must disclose,

Teague swore ’twas for the honour of his Nose,

Whose lovely size, and colour, to his thinking,

Could only be maintained by hearty drinking.

Heedless he went, unmindful as he past,

The poor Mule stumbled, and the load was cast.

‘Thunder & Turf! are those your tricks?’ says Teague,

‘What! tired you Spalpeen, and come but a League!’

John now dismounted, and with horror stood;

They’d told him of Banditti in the Wood.

‘O, Teague! dear Teague! as we are only two,

‘If the curst thieves should come, what shall we do?’

‘Thieves! is it thieves you fear, Sir, G—d confound ’em!

‘Teague and your Honour surely can surround ’em;

‘By Ja—s, I would bodder half a score.’}

This check’d John’s fears, who now did him implore}

To get the load upon the Mule once more.}

The job accomplish’d, he his Horse bestrode,

And then with anxious look pursued his Road.

As Sacavem came now full right in view,

He then enquired of Teague ‘what he should do?’

‘You first must to the Jewish bend your pace.’

‘Jewish!’14 says John, ‘why man, that’s at Duke’s Place.’

‘’Tis him that sarves the Billet,’ Teague replies.

‘O, well!’ says John, and to the Juis hies.

The Billet15 got, they travel to explore

For Rua Sacra, Casa, Number Four.

The House was found, but wanting Door or Casement,

‘Is this the place?’ says John in wild amazement.

‘Is it to such D——n’d sties as these they send us?

‘A pretty way they treat their Brave Defenders!’

Entering, at length, he saw a squalid Wench,

Begrimed with dirt, and luxury of stench;

Then, in a filthy room, and almost dark,

Three wretched women squatted round a spark.

With out stretch’d hand his Billet he presents,

And stopp’d his nose t’ escape the beastly scents.

A croaking voice exclaims, ‘Aqui Senhor?’

‘A key!’ says John, ‘why, D——n me, you’ve no Door.’

Teague, sober grown, now offer’d his advice,

‘A Soldier, plase your honour, mayn’t be nice.

‘Becase your honour must consider; as why,

‘There’s a good Roof between us and the Sky:

‘I’ll first go out, and steal the Beasts some Food,

‘And then I’ll cook your honour something good.’

Alas! poor John; he wanted consolation,

Wrapp’d in the misery of meditation;

So bolting out in anguish to the Street,

A Sign16 suspended did his optics greet;

When in he rush’d, and to a room was led,

With Table, Chair, and something like a Bed.

Now from his Canteen culled sufficient fare,

The Brandy swallowed, and forgot his care,

In four days’ time he reach’d the first Depôt,

And at the Commandant’s himself did show.

This was a Hero17 great, who treated Subs

As little better than a pack of Scrubs.

Himself from Ranks had risen by his merit,

But those advantages did not inherit

That in the best societies you find

Arising from a cultivated mind;

Imperiously made all beneath him feel

His rod of Power and his wond’rous zeal,

‘Here, Sir, you Ensign, mind, on no pretext

‘Must you neglect to call day after next.

‘There, get you gone! for you I’ve nothing more,’

And with his finger pointed to the Door.

John travelled out, repeating, ‘Nothing more!

‘D——n me if e’er I met so rude a Bore!’

But by experience knew that to complain

Against such Brutal manners would be vain.

Accustom’d now, he quickly stirr’d about,

First to obtain, then make his Billet out.

This settled to his heart’s content,

That Day and Night he comfortably spent;

Next morning call’d, and so without delay,

To reach the next Depôt he bent his Way.

END OF PART I