1885–6–7–8--COLCHESTER DISTRICT
The Land League--Mr. Wrench--Life at Colchester--Useless
Sentries--Reforms in Canteens--Nett profit trebled in twelve
months--3rd Class shots--An unusual Inspection--My last
lie--Visit to Corunna--Albuera.
I reached London on the 19th of June, lighter in body than I had been
for many years, and I did not recover entirely from intestinal troubles
till late in the year. I was no sooner home than I had some interesting
correspondence with Mr. Wrench, my brother-in-law’s agent at Clones
in the north of Ireland. Since I assumed supervision of the estate in
1867, we had lived on amicable terms with the tenants, but in 1880 the
Land League had formed branches in the north of Ireland, and most of
the Clones tenantry joined the League, in 1885–6.
One farmer quarrelled with the League agents, who ordered his labourers
to leave him, and the tenant appealed to Mr. Wrench for permission to
hire the pig-carriers, who on the weekly market day carried pigs from
the carts to the weighbridge, earning enough to enable them to remain
idle for the rest of the week. Mr. Wrench observed, “I don’t care what
the men do, but you cannot have them on market day,” and they worked
for the former Land Leaguer. The local agent now wrote a demand to
Mr. Wrench to dismiss the men from the pig-carrying job, which being
referred to me was summarily refused. The League ordered that no pig
buyer should go to Clones market, and as it was not only a question
of principle, but also of the tolls of the market, worth £300 a year,
we issued a notice that we would buy all pigs at a fair rate which
were not sold on market days. As trouble was anticipated, Colonel E.
Saunderson, M.P., and some of his friends attended the next market, to
support Mr. Wrench, but the Boycott was carried out without violence.
Mr. Wrench endeavoured to obtain buyers from Belfast, Drogheda, Newry,
and other towns, but the League was too firmly established to enable
him to succeed, and on the 23rd October I received the following
telegram:--“Sending you 642 pigs next week--Wrench.”
This was handed to me on my way to the War Office, and taking it to the
City, I obtained the names of three respectable pig salesmen. Going to
one shop in Smithfield, I asked, “What can you do for me, about 600
pigs on Tuesday next?” The man said, “Are they ‘Lights’ or ‘Heavies’?”
Now I knew something about Light and Heavy cavalry, but the term as
regards pigs was unfathomable, and like Tittlebat Titmouse,[284] I
said, “Little of both.” The salesman looked me over, and contemptuously
declined to quote a price, and so going farther down to another firm
I repeated the question, only putting it, “What can you get me for
‘Lights,’ and what for ‘Heavies’?” and having obtained an answer, I
went outside, and telegraphed it to Wrench, adding, “Have you tried at
Londonderry?”
Londonderry bought all our pigs, and after six months’ quarrel the
Land League giving in, rescinded their notice about the carriers, my
brother-in-law’s whole loss in the transaction being something less
than a hundred pounds.
I took over the Command of the Eastern District from General White on
the 31st March, and spent therein three very happy years. As soon as
I had finished the inspection of the Regulars, and ten Militia, and
all the Volunteer Battalions in the district, I turned my attention to
“Long distance rides” for the Cavalry, and to initiating the practice
of Night marches for the Infantry, beginning by training Officers and
Sergeants, and the progress in the Army is shown by the fact that now
brigades march many miles by compass bearings without difficulty,
whereas, when I began at Colchester, the units became excited, and lost
their way, in crossing diagonally the Abbey Field, the parade ground,
of a few hundred yards in extent. Both officers and men took much
interest in their work, the Artillery binding their gun-wheels with
straw, to deaden the sound.
Most soldiers know the story of a sentry posted in the garden of the
Kremlin at Moscow, over a plant in which the Empress Catherine was
interested. The plant died in the winter, but the sentry post was
maintained for over a hundred years. I believe, however, many of my
comrades did not realise until the Boer War, the absurdities to be seen
in our garrisons. It was so easy under most Generals to get a sentry
posted; few even thought of removing a guard!
The day I assumed command at Colchester a sentry “Presented Arms”
to me at the office. “What does he do here?” “Oh, sir, he is your
sentry.” “Send him away; I don’t want him.” Next day I asked, “Why
is he still here?” “Oh, he’s sentry over Ordnance Stores, as well as
over your office.” There was a wall, 10 feet high, intervening between
the office and the Stores, so I ordered the post to be placed within
the enclosure. When on the third morning I found the man still at the
office door, I posted him myself inside the enclosure, but the Ordnance
officer, thinking the place was safer if it was kept locked, begged he
might be taken away.
Some days later, on visiting the huts forming the Garrison Hospital,
I found a sentry over a prisoners’ ward. “Open the door.” “Please,
sir, it’s locked.” “Yes, open it.” “I’ve got no key.” “Then call the
Sergeant of the guard; I want to see the prisoner.” “Please, sir, there
is no prisoner.” I said to the Medical Officer accompanying me, “What
folly!” “Oh, there was a prisoner, quite recently.” An indiscreet
Lance-Corporal, of the Army Hospital Corps, remarked, “There has been
no prisoner for three months.”
* * * * *
A perusal of the Crime statistics induced a visit to Harwich, where
one company of Garrison Artillery had more prisoners than 700 other
Artillerymen, in the Eastern District. Harwich and Landguard were not
responsible for this unpleasant fact, but Shotley Magazine Guard, a
detachment of some 25 Gunners stationed on a promontory between the
Stour and Orwell rivers. The Guard duties were not heavy, but there was
absolutely no means of recreation for the men. The nearest farm was
2000 yards distant, but a public-house stood just outside the fort.
I imagine that the prestige of the Master-General of the Ordnance,
typified by the Duke of Wellington, had not then died out, for I was
warned by my Staff not to interfere with a Magazine. I disregarded
their friendly counsels; removed all the celibate Artillery men,
leaving a Master Gunner and seven married men, one of whom had to sleep
dressed in the guard-room as a watchman, and to touch a tell-tale
clock thrice every night, at varying hours, as ordered by the Warrant
officer. This system has answered well to the present time.
* * * * *
In the Summer-time the officer commanding a Militia Battalion
complained to me that the officer commanding a Line Battalion managing
the canteen[285] would not give him sufficient for his share of the
profits. Both parties agreed to accept my decision, but the line
officer on my saying, “Well, give him from twenty to thirty pounds,”
observed, “We don’t make that in a quarter,” “Then you do your work
badly.” “If you think, sir, you could do it better, you had better
try.” “Yes, and I give you notice now, that I will manage it personally
through one of your officers, and non-commissioned officers, from the
1st October.” I made various innovations, advertising for tenders for
beer, and sending for two old soldiers out of each Company, who were
supplied with bread and cheese, desired them to pronounce as to the
merits of samples. They all asked whose beer it was they were drinking?
but the officers, who handed it out through a trap door, said, by my
direction, that they were to make a choice, without receiving such
information. A local Brewer obtained and kept the contract for many
years.
I published a Quarterly statement of accounts, which was hung up in
the canteen, and eventually paid £600 for rather more than half of a
bathing-place, 100 feet × 50, the War Office granting the remainder.
During the Summer-time I borrowed one of the bands twice a week to
play in the evenings outside the canteen, under a large awning, and
encouraged the married families to occupy the chairs I had placed for
them. I entirely failed, however, to induce them to take the tea and
coffee, which I persevered in providing, at somewhat less than cost
price, for several weeks.
The year before I took over the Command the divisible profit was
under £340, whereas after twelve months I divided £1400, and the
next year £1540. This money was earned to the detriment of the small
public-houses in the vicinity of the barracks. I made the canteen as
far as possible like a respectable music saloon, allowing free choice
of music, admitting even songs which I thought vulgar, if they were
not of an immoral tendency. I replaced the old beer-stained barrack
tables and forms by arm-chairs and marble-topped tables. The commanding
officers assured me I did not know what I was doing, and that there
would be no arm on a chair in three months’ time. Nevertheless I
persevered, although I admit I had some misgivings when I put two large
glass mirrors, 9 feet by 6, to light up the room, which being partly
underground was dark, as I thought it was possible some drunken soldier
might throw a pewter pot at them. Nothing untoward occurred in my
time, however, nor had there been a single breakage when I visited the
canteen some eight years afterwards. It is more remarkable that one of
my successors, General Burnett, ten years later made a somewhat greater
profit out of two Battalions, the garrison having been temporarily
reduced during the building of the barracks, and mainly by raising the
tone of the Entertainment.
The Adjutant-General wrote, the Eastern District was a model, and the
Canteen Regulations I had then drawn up, have with some improvements
since been adopted for the Army.
The Adjutant-General, Lord Wolseley, not only supported me officially
in my efforts to raise the tone of the Rank and File by trusting
them, but his private correspondence also was a great encouragement.
I mentioned to him I meant to persevere against the views of my
commanding officers, and in reply he wrote: our letter: every word
of it is after my own heart, I have always believed in trusting the
British soldier.”
I had much correspondence with him throughout 1886, ’87, and ’88,
he putting me on many War Office Committees; one of these was to
decide whether the magazine of the new rifle should be Permanent
or Detachable; he himself was in favour of the latter, and was
proportionately disappointed when I took him the report of the
Committee, which, with one dissentient, was in favour of the permanent
arrangement. He asked, “Who is the one wise man?” I said, “I am, sir.”
“Then why did not you say so?” “Well, I thought it would look as if
I were conceited.” “But you are quite right.” “Yes, I think so.” Two
days later two of those who had voted for the permanent arrangement
came round and asked to be allowed to withdraw their vote. Eventually
difficulties of manufacture in the permanent system caused the better
method, the detachable, to be adopted.
In 1877 the Military Secretary asked if I was willing to be considered
for an appointment as Commandant-General in Australia. Although I was
advised by my Aide-de-Camp, a Tasmanian born, that Federation was too
far off to justify my hoping to succeed in amalgamating the forces, I
answered I would go if selected, but for reasons unconnected with me,
the idea at that time was not carried out.
I was working throughout 1887 and 1888 on the subject of diminishing
the number of third-class shots in the Eastern District, corresponding
with the School of Musketry at Hythe, and we effected some good,
although the percentage of men useless with the Rifle remained high.
The new Drill book was handed over to me for report, and many of the
antiquated movements formed the subject of somewhat heated discussion
between those who held Lord Wolseley’s views, which I was advocating,
and the Old School. My opinions were summed up in a letter to his
lordship, dated 8.8.87, “I hope, however, we may recognise now, all our
Drill is for the more ready destruction of our enemies, with a minimum
loss to ourselves, and that we prescribe formations accordingly.”
I was frequently consulted on the vexed question of Chief of the
Staff, or Adjutant-General, and Quartermaster-General, on which the
Commander-in-Chief and Adjutant-General could not agree. The latter
system was maintained in Peace for eighteen years longer, but was
abandoned for warlike operations.[286]
Lord Wolseley employed me constantly throughout the three years I was
at Colchester, with reference to his attempts to modernise the Army;
and the work he gave me, coupled with a close inspection of every unit,
Regulars and Auxiliary Forces, in the Eastern District, kept me fully
employed.
An interesting duty which came to me in July 1888 was the selecting of
positions to defend the approaches to London from the eastward. The
Headquarters Staff were unable at first to accept my views, and came
down three times, and on the last occasion with Lord Wolseley, and the
result was that he confirmed my judgment.
My father had lived, much respected, for forty years in Essex; my
elder brother, Charles Page Wood, farming his estate 10 miles distant,
was often in Colchester on market days, and being very popular I had
the advantage of the friendships they had made, when I wanted the use
of private lands for the training of troops. The occupiers near the
Barracks were very generous in allowing me to practise Outposts of
all Arms, and I often had a long line, mostly on arable land, without
serious complaint, though on one occasion a farmer aggrieved by
officers riding over a crop, ignoring my rank, said, “If you do that
again I’ll tell Mr. Evelyn Wood of you.”
I inspected the Infantry of the District as outposts by day and night,
and on the first occasion had to find grave fault with the arrangements
of a Battalion of which I had then, and have had ever since, the
highest opinion. I began my inspection on the left of a line of 3
miles, the Piquet in front of which was badly placed. No. 7 Company
was worse. On passing behind No. 6, a sentry who should have been
standing motionless looking to his front, faced about and “Presented
Arms” to me. Losing patience, I ordered the Battalion home, saw the
officers in the orderly room, and expressed very decided opinions as to
the want of instruction, indicated that morning. As I finished, saying,
“Gentlemen, I will see you again when your Commanding officer says you
are ready for inspection;” he observed, “It is just lunch time, sir,
will you come in?” I did so, and my friendship with that Battalion has
been uninterrupted ever since.
A few evenings later, a Subaltern of the Battalion dining with me
alone, said, “We had such bad luck with you, General, last week, the
Regiment has now been inspected for 150 years, and you are the first
general who ever began on the left of the line, and we knew when the
word was passed up that you had started there, that we should have an
unhappy morning, for Bobby ----, our show captain,[288] was on the
right with the most capable officers, and on the extreme left were the
most inefficient. Now it generally happens that a general when he has
seen half a long outpost line well posted, being satisfied, goes home,
and we were calculating on a stereotyped inspection.”
In the middle of July, after seeing some interesting Artillery
practice on Dartmoor, I took my horses on to Exmoor, where Mr. Basset,
the Master of the Devon and Somerset Staghounds, had a meet for my
pleasure, and gave me a most enjoyable run.
* * * * *
Yielding to a warm invitation from Canon Bell, I went to Marlborough
at the end of the month, for the double purpose of attending the
breaking-up day and inspecting the Cadet companies. While the Head was
giving out prizes, he asked, “Sir Evelyn, did you learn much Latin
here?” “Not much, I’m afraid.” “Perhaps Greek?” “I think less.” “Then
may I ask what you did learn?” “Oh, I’ll tell you presently, as you say
I have got to speak to the School.”
When I got up, in the course of my speech I mentioned this fact, and
said, “I promised to tell the Head, and you at the same time. You are
probably envious of those boys who have taken prizes. In your place
I should have been, for I never took a prize during the five years I
was at school, but I learned something, and within 20 feet of where
I am now standing, in May 1851. The Reverend J. Biden was an ardent
fisherman, and one afternoon when our task was Arithmetic, somewhat
scamped in work in those days, we knew that ‘Jacky’ was anxious to
get out to the banks of the Kennet. He gave me four Addition sums out
of Colenso’s Arithmetic, which he apparently copied out of the book.
After allowing an interval of a quarter of an hour to elapse, I, taking
the answers from the book, wrote them down, and went up, expecting to
see a big ‘R’ across the slate, and an intimation that I might go. To
my horror he looked over the sums saying, ‘But you have fudged this?’
‘No, sir.’ ‘But you have.’ ‘No, sir.’ Now, if ‘Jacky’ had ordered me
to ‘Stand round,’ I might have continued to tell lies till to-day; he
said, however, ‘I thought you were a brave little boy, and only cowards
tell lies.’ I say to you, Boys, whether you believe me or not, I have
never told a lie since, and that lesson was worth more than all the
learning acquired by all the prize-takers who have just now been up to
this table.”
I travelled Westward that evening, joining Sir John Pender, who took a
party in the S.S. _Electra_ to the Mediterranean for a trip, inducing
Sir John to invite my friend, Colonel Ardagh,[289] for whom indeed he
waited till 1 a.m. on the 2nd September, when we sailed for Corunna. I
saw a great deal of Dean Bradley, who was a sympathetic companion, and
Sir Robert Herbert, whose charming personality was well known. When
we got into the Bay on the 3rd, I gave a lecture on Sir John Moore’s
battle, the scene of which we successfully visited next day, except
that Dean Bradley had a bad fall from a donkey, which rolled over him.
Our impression, which I imagine is that of everyone who has visited
the Field, was that Moore did very well under unusually difficult
circumstances.
We steamed round the coast of Portugal, waiting on the King at Lisbon,
and my kind host being greatly distressed to find I had no medals,
insisted on my wearing on my evening coat, which we put on at midday,
for our Royal audience, a C.M.G. Next day Ardagh and I visited
Torres Vedras, on which immensely strong position the works erected
by Wellington are apparently much as they were at the time of their
occupation, A.D. 1810.
The party now separated, Ardagh and I going by train to Badajos, whence
we visited the field of Albuera.
The young Spanish officer sent to us as a guide at Badajos because he
spoke a little French, was not aware that the British had successfully
assaulted the place, his knowledge of the operations of the Sieges
being confined to the attacks, and defence of the French and Spaniards.
It will repay any soldier even now to visit Badajos, for it is easy to
follow Napier’s wonderful description of the Assault.
Probably all soldiers have heard the story, that Lord Beresford had
ordered a retreat from Albuera when it was countermanded, and how the
gallant charge of the Fusilier Brigade snatched victory from the French
at the last moment. At Gibraltar, coming fresh from the battlefield, I
asked General Sir Arthur Hardinge, the Governor, “Did your father ever
talk to you of Albuera?” “Yes, very often.” “Is it true that he was the
Staff officer who countermanded Beresford’s order to retreat?” “No,
no one did so; but my father went to Beresford, and said, ‘You have
got, sir, a Court-martial on one hand, and a Peerage on the other,’
and he replied slowly, ‘I will try for the Peerage,’ and himself gave
the order to stop the retreat, and my father then ordered the Fusilier
Brigade to advance.”
When the ship reached Cadiz, on the 13th August, I received a telegram
from my wife, to whom a friend had confided the information that Sir
Archibald Alison was about to vacate the Aldershot command, to join
the India Council. Lord Wolseley had told me on many occasions he
intended to press for my appointment to that command, and at one time
he imagined the chances of my getting it were at ten to one; later, my
chances sank to even betting. I thought, in any case, it would be wise
for me to return home, and obtained the assent of our kind host to my
leaving the ship at Barcelona.
Nothing could exceed his generosity; he not only entertained us
perfectly on board, but insisted on paying our expenses on shore,
even to our washing bills, when we were at Granada, where I lingered
for forty-eight hours to enjoy more fully the Alhambra. Ardagh and
I returned from Barcelona, after a delightful trip, and I reached
Colchester after an absence of three weeks.
When the Headquarters Staff returned to London after the holidays,
there was a protracted discussion over the question of my succeeding
Sir Archibald Alison at Aldershot. Lord Wolseley advocated it
strenuously, as he expressly said, not for any regard for me, but
because he thought I was more successful in instructing[290] Regiments
than any one else he knew. I was also, he thought, fit to take the
Division abroad should it be necessary.
The Commander-in-Chief wished to appoint an office for much longer
service, and after weeks of argument the matter was left to the
decision of Mr. Stanhope, the Secretary of State. He sent for Sir
Redvers Buller, who was Quartermaster-General, and asked for his views.
Buller replied, “I have seen three disasters in my service, and they
all came from want of instruction. Do you believe that Evelyn Wood
is a good teacher?” “Yes,” said Mr. Stanhope, “I am told he is quite
satisfactory in that respect.” “Then I advise you to appoint him.” Mr.
Stanhope was kind enough to say to me, when telling me the story, “I am
glad I did so.”