When the announcement first appeared that a biography of the late Sir
Howard Douglas was in progress, the impression made upon our minds was
anything but favourable to the enterprise. Of the good and gifted man
himself, as he mixed in general society, our recollections were indeed
of the most pleasurable kind. He stood before us with his kindly manner,
his noble appearance, his high bearing, his generous nature, the perfect
model of what an English officer and gentleman ought to be. And casting
our eyes across the room to the shelf on which his ‘Naval Gunnery’ and
‘Military Bridges’ were ranged, we thought of him as a man of science
more than ordinarily well read in his profession. But not all our desire
to find in connection with him materials for a consecutive history,
helped us to any other conclusion than this, that the story of his life,
if told at length, must be a dull one. We acknowledge, less with shame
than with satisfaction and some surprise, that we were quite mistaken.
Sir Howard Douglas’s career had more of romance about it than that of
many a man who has filled a much larger space in the world’s
observation. It was successful as far as it carried him, because a sound
judgment controlled good abilities, and directed them to a wise end.
And, above all, it reads this lesson to coming generations, that he who
honestly seeks the wellbeing of others rarely fails, sooner or later, to
secure his own. Nor must we omit to render to Sir Howard’s biographer
the commendation which he deserves. Mr Fullom has executed his task
well; neither overlaying his narrative with details, which sometimes
weary, nor keeping back anything which might conduce to its
completeness, he has given us one of the pleasantest books which, for
some time past, has come under our notice.
The house of Douglas has from the earliest times been renowned in
Scottish story. Its alliance with the royal family began in the
fourteenth century, when the Lord of Dalkeith took to wife Mary the
fifth daughter of James I. On this same Lord of Dalkeith the earldom of
Morton was not long afterwards conferred by his brother-in-law, James
II. From father to son, or from uncle to nephew, the earldom passed
through twelve generations, and narrowly escaped coming in the
thirteenth to the father of Sir Howard. But Charles Douglas, if he
missed a coronet, won for himself a baronetcy and great distinction as a
British sailor. He it was who, when Arnold and Montgomery besieged
Quebec, forced his squadron through the ice on the St Lawrence and
relieved the place. He it was who first of all constructed a flotilla
for himself, and then swept the Canadian lakes of the rebel gunboats;
and by-and-by, on the 12th of April 1782, he caught, as if by
inspiration, that idea, the application of which enabled Admiral Rodney
to break the enemy’s line, and to save at a critical moment the honour
of the British fleet.
Of this Sir Charles Douglas, Howard was the eldest son by a second
marriage. Sir Charles’s first wife, a foreign lady, had brought him two
sons and a daughter, so that Howard’s prospects, so far as title and
fortune were concerned, could not have been in his infancy very bright:
and they would have been entirely overcast by the early death of his
mother, had not her place been well supplied by a maternal aunt. Under
the roof of this lady, Mrs Bailey of Olive Bank, near Musselburgh, the
little fellow grew and prospered, repaying all the tenderness with which
he was reared by his affectionate and gentle disposition, as well as by
his industry and success over his books.
Howard’s brothers both entered the navy. This was natural, and it was
perhaps equally so that Howard should desire to follow their example;
but Sir Charles considered that, if his three sons were all to embrace
the same profession, the chances were that they would only stand in each
other’s way. He gave directions, therefore, that Howard should be
educated for a different walk in life, and the boy ascended in due time
from the charge of the governess to the grammar-school. Yet the child’s
tastes were entirely naval all the while. He built toy ships, and sailed
them on a pond in the garden; he made friends of the fisher-lads and
cabin-boys along the coast, and became so initiated into the mysteries
of their craft that none among them could better manage than he a
fishing-boat or a ship’s yawl. It thus became clear to Sir Charles
Douglas, who visited his sister in 1789, previously to assuming the
command on a foreign station, that nature had designed his youngest son
for a career similar to his own, and he made up his mind to take Howard
with him, and to rate him as a midshipman on board the flag-ship. But
the coveted flag he was never destined to hoist. A sudden illness
carried him off while the guest of his sister, and Howard’s lot was cast
for him in the army.
The Royal Academy at Woolwich was more easily entered in those days than
it is now. A pass examination was, however, required; and young Douglas,
strange to say, in spite of his marked bias for practical mechanics,
failed in the elements of geometry. But he had made so good a figure in
other respects, and appeared so cast down by the circumstance, that the
examiner, Dr Hutton, encouraged him to try again; and three weeks spent
with a clever crammer sufficed to bring him up to the mark. He therefore
presented himself a second time, passed, and was admitted.
There is one defect in Mr Fullom’s history which puts his readers to
considerable inconvenience—he is not very accurate in his dates. We do
not quite make out, for example, when young Douglas made his way into
the Academy, or how long he continued a cadet; but we are told, what is
extremely probable in itself, that he was much beloved by his
contemporaries, and that he soon took the lead among them both in the
playground and in the class-room. His passion for naval affairs
continued as strong as ever, and he indulged it by frequent boat
excursions on the Thames. He swam, also, like a duck, and paid many a
furtive visit to Deptford dockyard, where he studied by fits and starts
the art of shipbuilding. His vacations he spent in Scotland, passing to
and from Leith in one of the smacks;—an intense delight to him, because
he was instructed by the crews in the arts of knotting and splicing, of
plaiting points and gaskets, of making gammets, and heaving the lead. It
is not often that a youth displays such unmistakable aptitude for a
career which he is not destined to follow; and it still more rarely
happens that the amusements of the boy, whom circumstances in after life
place in a groove apparently wide apart from them, turn out to have been
by no means the least useful branches of his education, either to
himself or to others.
After completing his college course, Douglas received a lieutenant’s
commission, and in 1795 assumed the command of a small artillery corps
in the north of England. His headquarters were in Tynemouth Castle, and
he had detachments at Sunderland, Hartlepool, and Berwick-upon-Tweed.
His entire force in gunners fell short of fifty men; yet this was at a
time when the risk of invasion appeared to be imminent, and Douglas and
his gunners were necessarily exposed to bear the brunt of it. The young
lieutenant felt how perfectly inefficient his force was, and cast about
to devise some means of increasing it. He asked first for a
reinforcement of artillerymen, which could not be afforded. He then
suggested to the general officer of the district the propriety of
drilling a portion of his infantry to the great-gun exercise; and
himself, with unwearied diligence, instructed thirty men from each of
the regiments quartered within many miles of Tynemouth. He was not,
however, satisfied even with this—the thought struck him that he might
enlist the sympathies of the fishermen and coasting sailors in the cause
which he had at heart; and having obtained through General Balfour the
sanction of the Government, he invited them to form themselves into
companies of volunteer artillery. Upwards of five hundred fine fellows
answered to the call; and the thoughtful lad had soon the satisfaction
of knowing that danger, if it did come, would not find him unprepared,
and that the merit of having provided a remedy for a great and
acknowledged evil was entirely his own.
It is not to be supposed that the young man was so given up to serious
matters as to turn away from the recreations common to his age and
profession: on the contrary, Douglas seems to have been at Tynemouth the
gayest of the gay. He danced well, rode well, established a yacht in
which he made many adventurous cruises, and won the hearts of young and
old by his frank and graceful manners. But sterner work awaited him, and
the romance of his existence began.
Early in August 1795 he received orders to take charge of a detachment
of troops, which, with women and children, were to proceed from Woolwich
to Quebec. He joined the Phillis transport at Gravesend, and found
himself the senior officer, with six subalterns besides himself on
board. To him the prospect of a voyage across the Atlantic was a
positive delight. What cared he about the inadequacy of accommodation,
or the wretched nature of the food which was then issued to soldiers
embarked? His thoughts were entirely given up to the great object of his
boyish fancy—the actual navigation of a ship out of sight of land, and
all the enterprise and excitement incident thereto. Never neglecting his
own proper duties, he accordingly found time to make himself one of the
crew, and, sharing their labours, and evincing perfect intelligence of
all that was required, he won more than the goodwill, the confidence and
respect of every one on board.
The Phillis was a slow sailer. She encountered various changes of
weather, behaving, upon the whole, tolerably well, though sometimes
uneasy and always uncomfortable. At last, however, a tempest overtook
her about forty leagues to the east of the southern entrance of the Gulf
of St Lawrence, and the sea swept over her decks, knocking the boats
from their fastenings. The gale lasted all that day and throughout the
night; but a lull came in the morning, and the women and children, who
had been kept below, were allowed to come on deck. The same evening the
officers entertained the skipper, and all were rejoicing in the prospect
of escape from danger, when the mate suddenly broke into the cabin and
requested the captain to follow him. Douglas guessed from the manner of
the two men that something must be wrong. He ran up the companion-stair,
and heard—for he could see nothing—the roar of breakers close ahead. The
ship had drifted before the wind, and was already in imminent danger.
Immediately the soldiers were ordered up, and, with their assistance,
the best bower anchor was let go. But though it seemed to check the
vessel for a moment, it soon began to drag; and, with breakers on the
bow, practised eyes discovered that there was land on both quarters—that
the ship was embayed.
It was evident, under such circumstances, that the single chance of
saving the lives of those on board was to force the Phillis, if
possible, round a projecting reef on her lee bow. But this could be done
only by making more sail, and to go aloft at that moment and shake out
reefs was a service of the utmost hazard. The seamen ordered to do so
hung back, whereupon Douglas sprang into the shrouds, and, followed by
two cabin-boys, accomplished the operation. The consequence was that the
Phillis bore up and cleared the point, though very narrowly; but it was
a mere respite from danger. The storm grew more and more tremendous. The
boats could with difficulty be moved, and one of them (the long-boat)
was scarce got over the side ere she went to pieces. The ship was now
upon the rocks, and another boat was lowered chiefly by the exertions of
the soldiers. But she in her turn seemed in danger of being broken to
pieces; whereupon Douglas, followed by two officers, sprang in, hoping
to fend her off from the ship’s side. Already she was more than half
full of water, which compelled the three youths to spring back, in doing
which Douglas missed his footing and fell into the sea. Happily he had
divested himself of most of his clothing, and his skill as a swimmer
stood him in good stead, for he rose upon the top of a wave, and one of
his friends, seizing his collar at the moment, dragged him on to the
deck.
Shipwreck under any circumstances is an awful thing. The wreck of the
Phillis went on, so to speak, through two days and as many nights. Men
and women went overboard; children died from exposure in their mothers’
arms. One poor fellow struck out in despair for the land, and was lost
among the breakers. The first raft which the survivors constructed
carried two of their number to the shore, who, regardless of the fate of
their companions, immediately deserted. A second raft was put together,
and on that Mr Douglas reached the land. He had carried a rope with him,
and began immediately to construct a bridge. Fortunately the wind lulled
at this moment, and the wreck was cleared of its living occupants. But
scarcely was this done ere the Phillis went to pieces without an
opportunity having been afforded of securing the means of subsistence
even for a single day.
The sufferings of these poor people on the barren cliff to which they
escaped were dreadful. Happily the waves brought ashore some pieces of
cloth as well as a cask of wine and a quantity of smoked pork. But the
sailors seized the wine and drank it; and the first night was spent in
cold and misery, for the snow lay deep on the ground, and there was no
fuel with which to make a fire. All lay down and slept—a sleep from
which they would probably never have wakened had not Douglas been roused
by a fearful scream, to which the wife of his servant gave utterance.
She had gone mad from privations and excitement, and died shrieking to
the last, so that her voice was heard over the wind and rain. She had
outlived all the women who went on board at Gravesend, and not a child
survived.
Mr Douglas was at this time barely nineteen years of age, yet such was
the force of his character that all about him, seamen as well as
soldiers, looked to him for instructions. He rescued a second cask of
wine from being broached this time by soldiers, though not without a
struggle. “We are all equals now,” said the leader of the mutineers;
“we’ll take no orders from you or anybody else.” “Won’t you!” cried
Douglas, springing at his throat with a knife; “you are under my
command; and if you don’t obey, by heavens, I’ll kill you!” The man
yielded; the small stock of provisions and wine was secured, and after a
vain attempt to penetrate through the forest, the whole party returned
again to the cliff—there to wait till either help should come from the
sea, or famine do its work and destroy them.
A feeling of despair was beginning to gain the mastery, when one day the
cry was heard, “A sail! a sail!” They had already set up a spar, and
hoisted a piece of cloth upon it; but the object was small, and might
not be discerned from a distance, and then what a fate awaited them! It
was not, however, so ordered. The sail approached; she was a small
schooner trading between St John and Great Jarvis; and the crew gave
back the cheer which the poor castaways raised in their agony, crowding
at the same time to the beach. They were all taken off and carried to
the place whither the schooner was bound, and spent the winter, roughly
but not unhappily, among the honest fishermen who had there established
themselves.
The winter seemed long, the days being very short in that latitude. Not
ungrateful, but tired of the monotony, Douglas purchased a whale-boat,
and, having fitted it with a deck, determined, as soon as the season
should advance a little, to risk a voyage to the West Indies. Several of
his brother officers agreed to share the danger with him, and they got a
St Lawrence pilot and a seaman from Newfoundland to join them. But a
succession of heavy gales hindered them from starting till April was far
spent. At last, just as their preparations were completed, there arrived
in the harbour a schooner bound from Halifax to St John, the commander
of which had heard of their misfortunes, and gone out of his way to
offer them assistance. Adventurous as they were, Douglas and his friends
did not hesitate to abandon their own project, and to avail themselves
of the superior accommodation thus placed at their disposal. They were
accordingly conveyed in the first instance to St John, Mr Douglas doing
seaman’s duty throughout the voyage, and by-and-by to Halifax, whither,
after discharging cargo, the schooner returned.
The Duke of Kent, the father of her present Majesty, was at that time
Governor and Commander-in-Chief in Nova Scotia. He had heard of the fate
of the Phillis, and of the sufferings of the crew and passengers, and
sent an aide-de-camp to request that such of the officers as might be in
a state to be moved, should present themselves at Government House.
Douglas and his friend Mr Forbes obeyed the summons, and were most
kindly treated by the Royal Duke. But their destination was Quebec,
whither, as soon as means of transport could be found, they proceeded.
The reception awarded them there, and especially Mr Douglas, was
gratifying in the extreme. The important services rendered by the father
to the colony had not yet passed out of men’s minds, and they believed
that they saw in the son qualities which proved him worthy of his
parentage. He was taken at once, so to speak, to the hearts of the
people, and had the still higher gratification to find that the
authorities, civil and military, entertained a just appreciation of his
talents, and were determined to make use of them.
There was an alarm of a French fleet hovering near the coast, and not a
single cruiser lay in the St Lawrence. The Governor became anxious, and
having often observed Mr Douglas guiding with remarkable adroitness a
sailing-boat in boisterous weather about the bay, he bethought him that
the nautical skill of the young officer might be applied to better
purposes than those of mere amusement. Douglas was sent for, and asked
if he would be disposed to take command of an armed coaster, and go off
as far as the Banks of Newfoundland in search of the enemy. He accepted
the trust without a moment’s hesitation; and, carrying with him, in
addition to a good crew, artillerymen enough to man his ten guns, he
hoisted his pennant on board a schooner of 250 tons burden, and stood
out to sea. Though never coming up with the French fleet—which, indeed,
had steered in a different direction—he found more than one opportunity
of showing how well qualified he was, under trying circumstances, to
manage a ship of war, and probably to fight her. And many a time in
after life he used to tell the story, adding that, “after all, a naval
life was that for which nature had peculiarly fitted him.”
So passed a year in Lower Canada, at the close of which the roster of
service carried Mr Douglas to Toronto, where he still found vent for his
marine propensities on Lake Ontario. He became likewise a great
sportsman, as well with the gun as with the fishing-rod, and made
frequent incursions into the forests in search of game. This brought him
more than once in contact with the Red men, over whom, by his cool
courage and endurance of fatigue, he acquired a remarkable ascendancy.
Among other circumstances worth noticing was his encounter in the bush
with a young white girl, of surpassing beauty, who had lived among the
Indians from her infancy. He states in his note-book that she had been
carried off by a party of warriors who had ravaged a settlement, and
that they treated her, as she grew up, with the utmost kindness and
respect. “A strange chance discovered her to her brother, and he
entreated her to return home; but she refused, declaring that she was
perfectly happy, and could not support a different existence.”
In the autumn of 1798, tidings reached Mr Douglas of the death of the
elder of his half-brothers. The event rendered necessary his immediate
return to England, and he took a passage in the last ship of the season,
a little brig, timber-laden and bound for Greenock. It seems to have
been his destiny never to go to sea without encountering danger and
difficulty. One night, shortly after clearing the Bay of St Lawrence, Mr
Douglas was awakened by the vessel giving a sudden lurch, for which he
could not account otherwise than by supposing she had struck on some
sunken rock. He jumped out of bed, and, staying only to throw a
greatcoat about him, ran upon deck. A brisk gale was blowing, and the
brig, having got into the trough of the sea, staggered under
single-reefed topsails, main-top-gallant-sails, and jib, and
fore-and-aft main-sail, with the wind on the beam. The mate, whose watch
it was, had got drunk, and gone below, and the helmsman seemed quite at
a loss how to guide the rudder. Douglas saw that there was not a moment
to be lost. He took the command of the ship, called up all hands, issued
with clearness and promptitude orders which were instantly obeyed, and
kept the vessel from foundering. The tumult brought the captain on deck,
who stood by astonished and speechless. No sooner, however, had he
satisfied himself of the untrustworthiness of the mate, than he directed
the vessel to be put about, and would have returned to Quebec had not Mr
Douglas volunteered to do mate’s duty during the remainder of the
passage. There could be no hesitation on the captain’s part, after what
he had just seen, to accede to this proposal: so the brig held her
course, and arrived safe in the Clyde, where, with protestations of
mutual respect and esteem, he and his friendly skipper parted.
Mr Douglas had not been long in Scotland before he fell in love, and
soon afterwards married Miss Anne Dundas, a young lady of great personal
beauty and cultivated mind. He obtained his promotion likewise in 1799;
and having done duty for a while as adjutant of a battalion, he was
subsequently posted to the horse-artillery. But better things than the
command of a troop were in store for him. The military authorities had
established at High Wyckham a cadet school, with a senior department
attached to it, in which officers might be instructed for the Staff; and
General Zamy, an old aide-de-camp of Frederick the Great, being
appointed commandant, it was proposed to Captain Douglas that he should
undertake the superintendence of the Staff College. Captain Douglas was
not unnaturally reluctant to give up the proper line of his profession,
but finding the Duke of York bent upon the arrangement, and being
tempted to accede to it by the offer of a step of rank, he passed from
the artillery into the line as a major, and took the place for which
both his natural talents and acquired information eminently fitted him.
From 1804 up to 1814 Douglas continued to be connected with the
educational department of the army. It would be impossible to
overestimate the importance of the services which he rendered. He not
only instructed candidates for Staff employment by lessons gathered from
the past, but deduced, from his own clear perception of things, hints
and suggestions which were then entirely new. He had many differences
because of this habit with General Zamy, who, like veterans in general,
was slow to believe that the tactics and strategy of his own youth could
be improved upon. But in 1806 the old man retired, and Douglas, with the
rank of lieutenant-colonel, took his place at the head of the
establishment. A fresh impulse was immediately given to the course of
study. Not surveying only, but pontooning, artillery, and the theory of
the whole art of war, were taught, and those brilliant Staff officers
sent out who in the Peninsular struggle gave to the Great Duke such
efficient support. Sir Howard, however—for he had by this time succeeded
by the death of another brother to the baronetcy—yearned for active
employment in the field. He applied for and obtained permission to join
Sir John Moore’s army, which he overtook just as the retreat from
Benevente began; and he shared its fortunes both in the painful marches
which it accomplished, and in the battle near Corunna, which enabled it
to re-embark without dishonour. By-and-by, when the expedition to the
Scheldt was fitted out, Sir Howard prevailed upon the Duke of York to
appoint him to the Staff of Lord Chatham’s army as Deputy
Quartermaster-General. The enterprise grievously failed; and the loss by
disease among the troops and ships’ companies engaged was very severe.
But even under such circumstances Sir Howard proved of great service to
his chief: for having kept a journal of each day’s proceedings as it
occurred, he was able to show, when examined concerning the causes of
the failure, that by far the largest share of blame rested with the
navy, or rather with the officer whom the Admiralty had placed at its
head.
For two years subsequently to his return from Walcheren, Sir Howard led
a quiet and useful life as head of the Military College. In 1811,
however, a fresh opportunity was found for employing him abroad. The
Government of that day put a far higher value on the services of the
Spanish guerillas than they deserved, and were incredulous of Lord
Wellington’s assurances, that on the regular armies of Spain no
dependence could be placed. It seemed to Lord Liverpool and his
colleagues that the Spaniards, if properly armed and supplied, were
capable by their own valour of driving the French beyond the Pyrenees;
and they made choice of Sir Howard Douglas to go among them, because
they believed that he possessed talents and energy enough to awaken them
to a sense of their duty. He received instructions, therefore, towards
the end of July, to proceed without delay to Lord Wellington’s
headquarters, and to arrange with him all details respecting his future
proceedings. Perhaps there is no interval in the long and useful career
of Sir Howard Douglas which afforded him more frequent opportunities of
doing good service to his country than that which, extending over little
more than a year, was spent by him in Spain; but the tale is one which
will not bear condensation.
After conferring with Lord Wellington on the Portuguese frontier, Sir
Howard rode across the country to Oporto, and thence took a passage by
sea to Corunna. He entered there into relations with Spanish juntas,
Spanish generals, and the chiefs of guerilla bands, and found them all,
with the exception of one or two individuals belonging to the latter
class, even more impracticable than he had been led to expect. He gave
them first arms, money, clothing, and had the mortification to learn
that the best battalions and batteries, as soon as they became fit for
war, were shipped off for South America. He turned next to the
irregulars, and succeeded in getting a levy _en masse_ set on foot,
which very much perplexed, and gave constant occupation to, the French
troops scattered over that and the adjoining provinces. But the
circumstance which more than any other affected his own fortunes, was a
combined attack on the fortified convent of St Cintio Rey by Sir Home
Popham’s squadron from the sea, and the guerilla band of Don Gaspar on
shore. It was while watching the effect of the Venerable’s fire that Sir
Howard became struck with the ignorance of the first principles of
gunnery which manifested itself both among officers and men, and that he
conceived the idea of applying, should leisure ever be afforded him, a
proper remedy to the evil. From that idea emanated his first great
treatise, to which the British navy owes so much, and of which the
rulers of the British navy, the Lords of the Admiralty, did not
condescend, for many months after it had been submitted to them, even to
acknowledge the receipt.
There can be no doubt that to Sir Howard’s activity in Galicia the
successful issues of Lord Wellington’s campaign, in the early summer of
1812, were greatly owing. Had he not managed to find employment for two
whole divisions of French infantry, these, with a division of cavalry,
must have joined Marmont’s army; in which case the battle of Salamanca
would have either not been fought at all, or it might have ended less
triumphantly than it did. But no man can work impossibilities; and the
time arrived when, having accomplished the main purpose of his mission,
Sir Howard received orders to return to England. He could not quit the
Peninsula, however, without once again communicating with Lord
Wellington, whom he found just about to undertake the siege of the
Castle of Burgos. To Douglas’s practised eye the place appeared of
immense strength in proportion to the means disposable for its
reduction; and a private reconnaissance led him to conclude that the
whole plan of attack was faulty. In both opinions he stood alone; yet
such was the respect in which his judgment was held, that the chiefs of
artillery and engineers communicated what he had said to Lord
Wellington, and Lord Wellington sent for him. The following is Mr
Fullom’s account of this interview:—“‘Well, Sir Howard, you have
something to say about the siege?’ ‘I think the place is stronger than
we supposed, my Lord.’ ‘Yes, by G—; but our way is to take the hornwork,
and from there breach the wall, and then assault over the two advanced
profiles.’ ‘I would submit to your Lordship whether our means are equal
to such an attack?’ ‘I am not satisfied about our ammunition,’ replied
Lord Wellington. ‘The enemy’s guns are 24-pounders, my Lord, and we have
only three 18-pounders and five 24-pound howitzers. The 18-pounders will
not breach the wall, and our fire must be overpowered, unless your
Lordship brings up some guns from the ships at Santander.’ ‘How would
you do that?’ ‘With draught oxen as far as the mountains, and then drag
them on by hand; we can employ the peasantry, and put a hundred men to a
gun.’ ‘It would take too long.’ ‘I think the place may be captured, with
our present means, from the eastern front, my Lord,’ returned Sir
Howard; and he disclosed his plan, with his reasons for thinking it the
most practicable. Lord Wellington made no remark. Possibly he saw the
defects of his own plan, but it had been deliberately adopted, and he
was not convinced that it ought to be abandoned.”
Mr Fullom has not told this anecdote quite correctly. Sir Howard was
more closely questioned as to the mode of conveyance for the guns, and
answered more pertinently, than is here set down. He suggested that the
24-pounders should be dismounted, the guns placed in the boles of trees
hollowed out, and the carriages run forward by themselves. Thus the
narrowest track through woods and round rocks would suffice for the
conveyance of the former, while the latter, being comparatively light,
would offer no formidable resistance wherever men or bullocks could
travel. Lord Wellington, however, adhered to his own plan, and sustained
the only reverse which marks the progress of an experience in war
extending wellnigh over a quarter of a century. It is just towards both
parties to observe, that the baffled hero was too magnanimous not to
acknowledge his error. “Douglas was right,” he exclaimed, as he mounted
his horse to begin the retreat; “he was the only man who told me the
truth.”
Sir Howard returned to England, and there resumed his occupations as a
military instructor; but his mind was full of a project for forcing
attention to gunnery on the chiefs of the navy; and the disastrous
results of the first frigate-actions in the American war not a little
quickened his zeal. He had a more herculean task before him, however,
than he himself imagined. Strange to say, his disinclination to the
study of pure mathematics had never been overcome; and now he found
himself obliged to master all the arcana of the science, so far as these
had any relation to the movement of a vessel through water under all
possible contingencies. While pursuing these studies he effected such
improvements in the reflecting circle and semicircle for land and marine
surveying as attracted the attention of the Royal Society, which
immediately elected him a member; and then he gave himself up steadily
to the object for which all this abstruse study had been only the
preparation. He produced a treatise in which every point connected with
the theory and practice of artillery was handled. He discussed not only
the power and range of various kinds of ordnance, with the uses of their
several parts, and the effects of transit, windage, recoil, and
suchlike, but he explained how a school of naval gunnery could be
established, and submitted the whole in MS. for the consideration of the
Lords of the Admiralty. Weeks and months passed by, however, without
bringing him so much as a written acknowledgment of its receipt; and
then, and not till then, he wrote privately to his friend Sir Graham
Moore. Sir Graham made such apology as the case would admit of, and did
his best to fix upon the subject the attention of his colleagues; but a
year elapsed before any decided steps were taken. At last the scheme was
adopted; and in 1819, Sir Howard, having first of all obtained the
sanction of the Government, gave his valuable treatise to the world. It
attracted at once the attention of scientific men both at home and
abroad, and led to frequent correspondence between the author and all
persons capable of appreciating and taking an interest in so important a
matter.
Promoted to the rank of Major-General, Sir Howard was nominated in 1824
to the Governorship of New Brunswick, and to the command of the troops
stationed there, and in Nova Scotia, Cape Breton, Prince Edward Island,
Newfoundland, and Bermuda. Mr Fullom tells an amusing story of Sir
Howard being met on the pier at Halifax by Mr Justice Haliburton, which
fails in this respect, that it happens unfortunately not to be accurate.
It was not Sam Slick, but his cousin of the same name, who in 1796 had
served in the Fusiliers, and in 1824 greeted his old comrade as Governor
of New Brunswick. But there is so much of _vraisemblance_ in the matter,
that the anecdote may very well remain where it is. On the other hand,
Mr Fullom’s narrative of Sir Howard’s administration of the province is
not only correct to the letter, but extremely interesting. It came to
pass while he was there that one of those fires occurred, of the
appalling effects of which we in this old world of Europe can form no
conception. It was an unusually dry summer, the third of a succession of
such, when first in the town, and by-and-by far off in the forest,
flames suddenly broke out. Government House was the first to be burned
down; then whole streets ignited at once; and just as a line began to be
drawn between what remained of the town and the ashes of dwellings
consumed, a lurid glare, seen afar off, gave warning that even a worse
calamity was in progress.
“Several days elapsed before the fire subsided, and then it became
masked by a smoke which darkened the whole country. But night proved
that it had not burned out; for showers of flame shot up at intervals,
and trees stood glaring in the dark, while the mingled black and red
of the sky seemed its embers overhead. Thus a week passed, when Sir
Howard determined to penetrate the forest, and visit the different
settlements. A friend has described his parting with Lady Douglas and
his daughters, whose pale faces betrayed their emotion, though they
forbore to oppose his design, knowing that nothing would keep him from
his duty. But this was not understood by others, and the gentlemen of
the town gathered round his rough country waggon at the door, and
entreated him to wait a few days, pointing to the mountains of smoke,
and declaring that he must be suffocated if he escaped being burned.
He thanked them for their good feeling, grasped their hands, and
mounted the waggon. It dashed off at a gallop, and wondering eyes
followed it to the woods, where it disappeared in the smoke.
“The devastation he met exceeded his worst fears; for the settlements
he went to visit no longer existed. The fire seems to have burst in
every quarter at once; for it broke out at Miramichi the same moment
as at Fredericktown, though one hundred and fifty miles lay between.
But here its aspect was even more dreadful, and its ravages more
appalling, as Miramichi stood in the forest completely girt round
except where escape was shut off by the river. Many were in bed when
they heard the alarm; many were first startled by the flames, or were
suffocated in their sleep, leaving no vestige but charred bones;
others leaped from roof or window, and rushed into the forest, not
knowing where they went, or took fire in the street, and blazed up
like torches. A number succeeded in gaining the river, and threw
themselves in boats or on planks, and pushed off from the banks, which
the fire had almost reached, and where it presently raged as fiercely
as in the town. One woman was aroused from sleep by the screams of her
children, whom she found in flames, and caught fire herself as she
snatched up an infant and ran into the river, where mother and child
perished together. Then came the hurricane, tearing up burning trees
and whirling them aloft, lashing the river and channel to fury, and
snapping the anchors of the ships, which flew before it like chaff,
dashing on the rocks, and covering the waves with wreck. Blazing trees
lighted on two large vessels, and they fired like mines, consuming on
the water, which became so hot in the shallows that large salmon and
other fish leaped on shore, and were afterwards found dead in heaps
along the banks of the river. What can be said of such horrors,
combining a conflagration of one thousand miles with storm and
shipwreck, and surprising a solitary community at midnight? Happily
the greater number contrived to reach Chatham by the river; but
floating corpses showed how many perished in the attempt, and nearly
three hundred lost their lives by fire or drowning.”
No small portion of Sir Howard’s time henceforth was spent in devising
means for the relief of the unfortunate people whom this calamity had
ruined. He made strong appeals to the benevolence of the British public,
which were not disregarded, and he advanced from his own funds more than
he could well spare. Nor was he inattentive to other matters. He made a
voyage from harbour to harbour throughout the extent of his military
command, and, with his usual luck, twice narrowly escaped shipwreck.
Indeed, so completely was his name up as a Jonah, that the captain of
the Niemen frigate, with whom he had been a passenger, took the alarm.
“The following day” (the day after one of these mishaps) “brought
Captain Wallace to dine with the Governor, and it came out that he had
been hearing tales about his Excellency which he did not consider to
his advantage, for he suddenly asked him if he had not once been
shipwrecked. Sir Howard replied by telling the story, and the
captain’s face became longer as he proceeded, though he made no remark
till the close. He then observed that his regard for him was very
great, and he valued their interchange of hospitality in port and
ashore, but should never like to take him to sea again; for he had
been twenty years afloat without mishap, except on the two occasions
when they had been together; and he should now look upon his
appearance in his ship as a passenger as a very bad omen indeed.”
On both occasions the ship had struck for lack of proper beacons, and
Sir Howard at once applied the remedy. He caused lighthouses to be built
where they were most required; and in order to improve the internal
communications of the province, he made roads, and proposed a plan for
connecting by a canal the Bay of Fundy with the Gulf of St Lawrence.
Meanwhile he was not neglectful of the intellectual wants of the
colonists, as yet very imperfectly attended to. He founded, endowed,
and, after a good deal of opposition, obtained a charter for the
University of Fredericktown, of which, in 1829, he became the first
Chancellor, giving at the same time his own name to the College. These
were works of peace; and he was equally careful in guarding against the
chances of war. The treaty of 1783 had left the boundary-line between
Great Britain and the United States very imperfectly defined; and as the
inhabitants of the latter country increased in number, they began to
encroach on the territories of the former. A good many squatters had
forced themselves into New Brunswick, and been driven away, till at last
a person named Baker, bolder than the rest, took possession of an
outlying portion of land, and hoisted the American standard. The
proceeding was much approved by the Government of Maine, and strong
parties of the militia were turned out in anticipation of a collision
with the garrison of Fredericktown.
Sir Howard Douglas, however, knew better than to precipitate
hostilities. He contented himself with sending a civil message to Baker,
requesting him to withdraw; and when no attention was paid to it, he
gave such orders to the troops as would bring them to the frontier in a
few hours should their presence be required. This done, a parish
constable was desired to perform his duty; and the man, coming upon
Baker without any fuss or parade, cut down the flag-staff, seized the
squatter, and carried him off in a waggon to the capital of the
province. All Maine was thrown into a ferment. The Governor threatened,
and demanded that Baker should be set at liberty. Sir Howard refused so
much as to see the messenger intrusted with this demand, justly alleging
that he could hold communication on such subjects only with the Central
Government at Washington. The result was, that Baker, being put upon his
trial, was found guilty, and sentenced to pay a fine; which fine, after
an enormous amount of bluster, was duly paid. For his firm yet judicious
conduct throughout this awkward affair Sir Howard received the
approbation of the Home Government, becoming at the same time more than
ever an object of enthusiastic admiration to the people whom he
governed.
While approving all that their representative had done, the British
Government saw that it would be impossible with safety to leave the
boundary question longer unsettled. Arrangements were accordingly made
with the United States for referring the points at issue to arbitration;
and the King of the Netherlands being accepted as arbitrator, Sir Howard
was requested to return to Europe, and to watch proceedings. The King’s
decision gave, however, little satisfaction to either party. England,
indeed, would have acquiesced in it, though feeling herself wronged; but
America failed to get all that she coveted, and refused to be bound. It
remained for her, by sharp practice at a future period, to gain her end;
and for England, under the management of Lord Ashburton and Sir Robert
Peel, to be made a fool of. The part played by Sir Howard Douglas during
the progress of this negotiation was every way worthy of his high
reputation; but that which strikes us most is the sagacity with which,
so early as 1828, he foretold events in the States themselves, which
have since come to pass. In a paper addressed to the Secretary for the
Colonies, which points out endless grounds of quarrel between the
Federal Government and the Governments of the several States, he thus
expresses himself:—
“Here we may see the manner in which the Union will be dissolved—viz.,
the secession of any State which, considering its interest, property,
or jurisdiction menaced, may no longer choose to send deputies to
Congress. This is a great defect in the Bond of Union, which has not,
perhaps, been very generally noticed, cloaked as it is under article
1st, section 5th of the Constitution, which states ‘that where there
are not present, of either House, members sufficient to form a quorum
to do business, a smaller number may be authorised, for the purpose of
forming one, to compel the attendance of absent members.’ But this
appears only to be authorised for the purpose of forming a quorum, and
only extends over members actually sworn in, who, being delegated to
Congress by the States they represent, are subjected to whatever rules
of proceeding and penalties each House may provide, with the
concurrence of two-thirds of its members. But there is nothing
obligatory upon the several ‘Sovereign States’ to send members to
Congress, or to prevent those sent from being withdrawn. The
‘Sovereign States’ have never bound themselves to do either; so that
the process of dissolution in this way is very simple, and the danger
imminent of a separation being thus effected, whenever the interests
of any particular State or States are touched by the Government, or
brought into discussion in Congress, although those interests may be
outvoted by the preponderating influence of other States having
different interests. But the State or States which are to suffer will
not, it is clear, send members to vote their own injury or ruin; and
it may safely be pronounced, from what I have shown in this paper,
that this is the manner in which the American Union will come to a
natural death.”
Sir Howard returned to England from the Hague, to find the Government
bent on equalising the duties on foreign and colonial timber, and
thereby depriving the people of New Brunswick of one of the most
lucrative branches of their trade. He could not sit still and see done
what he himself regarded as an act of great injustice. He made immense
exertions, therefore, personally and through the press, to defeat the
Ministerial measure, and he succeeded. It was impossible, under such
circumstances, to return to New Brunswick, and he therefore resigned the
government. Not even their satisfaction at the victory which he had
achieved for them could reconcile the New Brunswickers to the loss of
their Governor; and they marked their gratitude for all that he had done
by presenting him with a magnificent service of plate. Indeed, it is
very touching to remember how, up to the latest day of his life, every
person connected with New Brunswick, on visiting England, sought him out
as if he had been a private friend, and laid open to him matters, not of
public only, but of private business. The Whig Ministers, on the other
hand, naturally piqued at their defeat, left him for four years without
any employment. Hence it was not till 1835, when Sir Robert Peel acceded
to office, that Sir Howard received the appointment of Lord High
Commissioner of the Ionian Islands. It was again his fate to be mixed up
with calamities brought on by natural causes, and with political
difficulties of no common order. There arrived one day from Ireland, at
Government House, a Right Rev. Dr Hynes, a _protégé_ of Daniel
O’Connell, who introduced himself to Sir Howard as Bishop of Corfu, and
handed him a letter from Lord Glenelg, at that time Colonial Secretary.
“‘You seem not to be aware that there is already a Bishop in Corfu,’
remarked Sir Howard. Dr Hynes intimated that he was a Catholic Bishop
appointed by the Pope. ‘I know of but one Bishop here, sir,’ replied
Sir Howard, ‘and no other could be recognised.’ Dr Hynes remonstrated,
and pointed out the importance to England of the Roman Catholic
interest in the islands; but Sir Howard could not be persuaded that
the British Government was not strong enough to hold its ground
without this bulwark. The prelate appealed to the letter of the
Minister of the Colonies, but was shown that this was no recognition,
nor could such be given without the sanction of the Ionian Senate. He
declared he would assume his functions, and abide the consequences;
but met a firmness surpassing his own, and learned that he would not
be permitted to remain on the island. He denied that he could be
expelled, and warned the Lord High Commissioner that his conduct must
be answered in England. ‘I have only to say,’ was the reply, ‘that you
will be removed by the police if you are not gone within twenty-four
hours.’”
The Bishop was unable to resist such an argument as this, and Papal
aggression received a temporary check in Corfu. But Sir Howard had
another battle to fight, and he fought it to a successful issue.
Wherever he exercised authority, his great object seems to have been to
promote the physical and moral wellbeing of society, and he applied
himself with this view to compile a sound code of laws for the Ionians.
Nothing could be more offensive to those who profited by bad laws; and
the priests in particular, set on by the Patriarch of Constantinople, as
he was set on by Russia, offered all the opposition in their power. Sir
Howard’s mode of defeating this move of the Hellenistic faction proved
at once novel and effective. He waited till the preparations for revolt
(for open revolt was meditated) were complete; and then surrounded the
house where the chief conspirators sat, arrested them all, and took
possession of papers which placed the complicity of the Patriarch beyond
doubt. These he sent to the British Minister at Constantinople, who
obtained without difficulty the deposition of the Patriarch, and the
setting up of a successor less disposed to become a tool in the hands of
Russia.
Of the great earthquake which shook Zante to its centre the memory will
not soon pass away. It began just as Sir Howard entered the harbour on
one of his tours of inspection, and continued, with shocks recurring at
narrow intervals, for a whole fortnight. The people, paralysed with
terror, knew not what to do, or whither to betake themselves, till the
Lord High Commissioner appeared among them, calm and collected. He gave
the necessary orders for extricating the wounded from the ruins: he
directed men, women, and children where to go; caused temporary barracks
to be erected for their shelter; and appeared to them as a guardian
angel in their hour of need. His good offices on that occasion, as well
as a brief experience of the working of his laws, brought about a
thorough change of opinion both with regard to them and to him. When he
resigned his office, which he was obliged to do in consequence of the
not very generous conduct towards him of Lord John Russell, then
Colonial Secretary, he left scarce one enemy in the island, and had the
honour of having an obelisk erected to him, by vote of the Senate,
bearing this inscription: “Howard Douglas, Cavalier, and General, High
Commissioner, Benefactor of the Ionian Islands.”
Sir Howard sat in Parliament for Liverpool during Sir Robert Peel’s last
administration, and spoke and voted on all occasions like a sound yet
thoughtful Conservative. In 1847 he retired from the House of Commons,
and thenceforth applied his energies to the service of the country as a
writer on professional and scientific subjects. His treatise on ‘Naval
Gunnery’ had already gone through several editions, as did his volume on
‘Fortification;’ and he now compiled and published his ‘Military
Bridges,’ perhaps the most generally interesting, if not the most
important, of all his works. But it was not thus alone that he continued
to be useful. His opinions were sought and freely given to each
successive Government on every question connected with the improvement
of arms, the selection of points to be fortified, the management of the
navy, and the steps to be taken for putting the country in a state of
defence. It is extremely interesting to know that, like the great Duke
of Wellington, Sir Howard laid aside all party feeling whenever the
honour or interests of the country came to be considered; and that he
possessed, as he deserved, the entire confidence of Whigs not less than
of Tories. His opinions as to the relative value of iron and wooden
ships are well known; he was entirely opposed to the former, though he
did not object to the process of casing the latter with mail; while in
his ‘Naval Warfare with Steam’ he advocated a system of tactics which
should bring the management of fleets very much into the same category
with the management of armies in the day of battle.
Thus, honoured and beloved, Sir Howard grew old, without losing one jot
of the elasticity of spirit which had characterised him in earlier days.
He was very happy also in his family till death began to cut it short,
and blow after blow fell so heavily, that, brave as he was, he sometimes
reeled. In 1854 a grandson, the bearer of his own name, died; then came
tidings of the decease of his eldest son, Charles, far away; then his
second son left him; then two of his daughters, Mrs Harcourt and Mrs
Murray Gartshore. The loss of Mrs Gartshore affected him very deeply;
and well it might, for she was one of those gifted and beautiful
creatures who shed light around them wherever they go, seeming too pure
and noble for earth. And scarcely were his tears dry when Lady Douglas,
his companion for fifty-seven years, followed her daughters. Two
daughters and one son alone remained to him, and one of these daughters
was a widow; the other kept his house, and was, indeed, everything to
him. But she likewise was taken from him, in a manner as trying as could
be to his Christian patience and courage. She had been in apparent
health and cheerful with him at dinner one day, and next morning was
found dead in her bed. If the old man’s head had fallen into the dust,
who could have wondered? But it did not. “No one can tell,” he observed
to Mr Bateman, the medical gentleman who was called in, “what a loss she
is to me: she has devoted herself to me; but I must do what is to be
done. She will sleep beside her mother, where I will soon join them.”
In this manner the sun went gradually down till it sank beneath the
horizon. Not that he suffered himself to be unmanned by sorrow; quite
otherwise. But the physical frame felt the shock, and yielded to it
perceptibly.
“Sir Howard enjoyed excellent health up to Miss Douglas’s death. All
his teeth were sound; he walked three or four miles a-day, and
obtained eight hours’ sleep at night. But that event gave his system a
shock, and the controversy about armour-ships wore it more, showing
his friends a marked change. His sleep was less regular and composed,
and he frequently recited the lines of our great poet—
‘Oh, sleep! oh, gentle sleep!
Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh mine eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy’s eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge,
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deafening clamours in the slippery clouds,
That with the hurly death itself awakes.’
“But he hid his sorrows, appearing calm and cheerful, though his
manner was subdued and his conversation less animated. His vivacity
revived at times, particularly when he spoke of Scotland, the theme he
liked best; or when he recalled his early life in America, and
described the pathless forests, the villages of wigwams, or the falls
of Niagara, reciting Thomson’s lines—
‘Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood
Rolls fair and placid,’ &c.
“He derived little benefit from the Folkstone breezes on his last
visit, though enjoying his walks on the promenade, which he pronounced
the noblest platform in Europe. Its attractions were just to his
taste, for he could here see the coast of France, against which he had
raised such bulwarks, watch the yachts and shipping in harbour and
Channel, and glance around at the military strollers. Shorncliff Camp
was within reach, as well as the Military School at Hythe, in which he
took great interest, highly appreciating General Hay. He supported the
Volunteer movement, and aided in its organisation, addressing a letter
of advice to the National Rifle Association through his friend General
Hay, and receiving an acknowledgment in his election as an honorary
member. So well did he keep abreast with the age. He showed the same
interest in the movements at the Camp, and attended any display,
though not always to commend. He particularly censured a sham fight,
representing an attack on an enemy who had landed in a bay near Hythe.
The troops were marched down, and skirmishers thrown out on the beach,
when the whole body fell back on the heights, holding them to cover
their retreat. ‘What an absurd proceeding!’ remarked Sir Howard to Mr
Bateman, who was by his side; ‘the movement ought to be exactly
reversed. They should have brought down every man and gun as quickly
as possible if the enemy had landed, and attacked him, and driven him
into the sea. There would be some sense in that.’
“Sir Howard looked a soldier to the last, retaining his erect bearing,
and walking with a firm step, though cautiously, and with looks bent
on the ground. His sight had begun to fail, and cataracts were forming
on both his eyes, but he did not submit them to medical treatment.
‘They will last my time,’ he remarked to the author. He contrived to
write by never raising his pen, forming the letters by habit, and all
were plain to one acquainted with his hand. A career of threescore
years and ten left his character much what it first appeared, with all
its elements of dash, vigour, enterprise, aptitude, and perception,
its habits of industry, its generous instincts, and its warm
sympathies. Neither heart nor mind showed the wear of life, and he is
the same at eighty-five as at seventeen; inspiring the Volunteers at
Hythe as he inspired them at Tynemouth, and exercising the inventive
genius which scared the rats in improving the screw propeller. The
hand that caught up the child in the shipwreck, obeyed the same
impulse still; and Mr Bateman saw him walking up the street at
Folkstone with a loaded basket which he had taken from a poor little
girl. ‘My dear, give that to me,’ he said, as he saw her bending under
the weight; ‘I am better able to carry it than you.’ The words were
reported by a lady who heard them in passing, as the General of
eighty-five and the poor child of five walked away together.”
We are not going to draw an elaborate character of one whose life may be
said to have formed his epitaph. Sir Howard Douglas needs no panegyrist
to tell the world what he was. Chivalrous, truthful, high-minded, brave,
he secured the esteem, not less than he commanded the respect, of all
who approached him. Had circumstances so ordered it that he had ever
directed the movement of troops in the field, we take it upon us to say,
that among English generals few would have attained to higher eminence
than he. As it was, he did more for the British army, and navy too, in
his books and by his teaching, than either army or navy, or the heads of
both branches of the service, have ever had the grace to acknowledge. To
these more shining qualities of head and temperament he added the faith
and humility of a Christian man: a humility which was far too real to be
obtruded on careless observers; a faith which had not one shade of
hypocrisy or fanaticism about it. Rest to his noble spirit! it will be
long before we look upon his like again.