(_Supplementary._)
AGAIN IN ENGLAND—LAST YEARS, 1852-1860.
Before Sir Harry Smith reached England, Lord John Russell’s Government
had fallen, one main cause of its fall being a general and perhaps
excessive dissatisfaction with Lord Grey’s administration of the
colonies. It was widely felt that Sir Harry had been made the scapegoat
of the Whig Government, and there was every disposition to give him a
warm welcome.
The _Gladiator_ reached Portsmouth on the afternoon of Sunday, 1st
June, and at seven that evening Sir Harry and Lady Smith disembarked
and proceeded to the George. Next day he was visited by a great number
of persons, both official and private, and at four the Corporation
hastily came together to vote him an address. In sharp contrast to
the terms of Lord Grey’s dispatch, it expressed admiration for his
“capacity and fitness for command” shown amid almost unparalleled
difficulties. Sir Harry was brought to the Council Chamber to receive
it. In his reply he tersely described the situation in which he had
been placed. “I became a Governor without a Legislative Council, a
Commander-in-Chief without a British army.” Meanwhile the Mayor had
been requisitioned to call a public meeting of the inhabitants. It
was held to suit Sir Harry’s convenience at a quarter to ten next
morning, “military time.” At this meeting, which was enthusiastically
sympathetic, Sir Harry recalled an incident of his youth.
“Many years ago I embarked on my first campaign from your shores,
unknown to the world, nay, I may say, _unknown to myself_, for no
youth is aware of the latent qualities which may hereafter be brought
forth. At the storming of Monte Video, an event which is not known
to many of you, because it occurred before many of you were born, I
was Adjutant of three Companies, and was fast asleep when they fell
in. A brother officer came and shook me by the shoulder and awoke
me, saying, ‘The troops are falling in; come, wake up.’ I arose and
exclaimed, ‘Lord, in Thee have I trusted; let me never be confounded,’
and with many others came out unscathed from a dreadful storm. These
words have guided me during my life.”
In each of the two speeches Sir Harry showed the most magnanimous
spirit towards the Government which had recalled him.[222]
The feeling displayed at Portsmouth was typical of that which prevailed
throughout the country, and as he acted at Portsmouth so he acted
throughout. He wrote in 1857, “All England upon my arrival again
received me with open arms. I was requested to stand as a member for
Cambridge, for Westminster, for Edinburgh, for Glasgow. I declined
to interfere with politics or to embarrass Her Majesty’s Government,
which I say my position enabled me to do, had not my desire been ever
to serve it faithfully and fearlessly.” Perhaps his determination not
to pose as a man with a grievance was manifested most strikingly when,
after his arrival in London, while declining an invitation of the
United Service Club, he accepted one even from Lord Grey. A writer in
_Colburn’s Magazine_ for November, 1860, is very indignant at this, and
calls it “the most lowering act” of Sir Harry’s life. But Sir Harry was
only maintaining the generous position he had taken up—that Lord Grey,
even if he had acted wrongly, had acted from a sense of duty.[223]
But with whatever mixture of feelings Sir Harry visited Lord Grey,
he received another invitation, we may be sure, with the most
unadulterated pleasure. On the 18th June he was the guest of his
beloved master and faithful defender, the Duke of Wellington, at the
Waterloo Banquet at Apsley House—the last Waterloo Banquet ever held.
Around the Duke’s table, with Prince Albert and the Duke of Cambridge,
sat between thirty and forty generals who had played their part in
the struggle of giants thirty-seven years before. They included Lord
Anglesey, Lord Hardinge, and Sir De Lacy Evans. At this gathering
of glorious soldiers and old comrades, Sir Harry Smith’s health
was proposed by the Great Duke himself and drunk with the greatest
enthusiasm.
Early in August Sir Harry and Lady Smith settled themselves at Belmont
House near Havant, where they were near neighbours of another famous
Peninsular and Indian soldier, Sir Charles Napier. A month later they
crossed to Guernsey to visit their old friends Sir John and Lady
Catherine Bell. Sir John as Lieutenant-Governor held a review of the
Guernsey Militia in his friend’s honour, and induced Sir Harry to
address them. He spoke on a favourite topic—the power of an armed
peasantry to resist an invader.
“In the mountains of the Tyrol, under Hofer, the militia peasantry
of the country repelled the attacks of the well-trained battalions
of Napoleon. In Algeria for nearly thirty years have the peasantry
defended their country, which even now is not conquered, although
450,000 French soldiers have been sent there. In the Caucasian
Mountains the peasantry have resisted for thirty years the efforts
of 800,000 Russian soldiers to subjugate them, and the Russians have
made to this hour no progress. In South Africa I have experienced what
the determined efforts of an armed peasantry can do, for after having
beaten the Kafirs in one place, they immediately appeared in another.
I state this to you to show what a brave and loyal people as you are,
are capable of doing.”[224]
After returning from Guernsey, Sir Harry visited Sir Charles Napier,
and here met, for the first time for many years, his old friend and
comrade of the Light Division, the historian, Sir William Napier. It
was while the three brilliant soldiers were thus together that they
heard, with an emotion easy to imagine, that their great chieftain,
the Duke, had passed away (14th Sept.).[225] At the Duke’s funeral on
the 18th November Sir Harry rode as Standard-bearer, attended by Col.
Garvock.
On 21st January, 1853, Sir Harry was appointed to the command of the
Western District, and to be Lieutenant-Governor of Plymouth. His
feelings on again obtaining employment were no doubt those expressed in
General Beckwith’s letter to him on the occasion: “We should all die
in our boots, with our spurs on, if possible; at any rate, the grand
affair is to keep the game alive to the last.” Accordingly, he and his
wife took up their abode at Government House, Devonport, where they
remained till the autumn of 1854. It was a busy time when troops were
constantly departing for the Crimea, and a great deal of hospitality
was dispensed at Government House.
Mr. W. F. Collier of Woodtown, Horrabridge, sends me the following
reminiscences of Sir Harry at this time:—
“He was an active General, to be seen everywhere. When, inspecting
or reviewing infantry, he usually rode his little Arab, Aliwal, and
always, when the troops were in line, he would suddenly put his horse
into a gallop and ride at the line as if he were going to charge
through them (the men were, of course, well up to this trick and stood
perfectly steady); the little Arab always suddenly halted within about
a foot of the line. I have seen him perform this show for the benefit
of the public often.
“He went to the public balls in his tight Rifle uniform of the time—a
tight ‘invisible-green’ jacket, with tight trousers to match. It
was very trying to the figure, and _his_ then was rather spare and
dilapidated, rather of the Don Quixote order.
“Lady Smith was a dear old lady, very kind, and very popular.”
Sir Harry had distinguished himself from the beginning of his career by
his zeal for the common soldier, and in his last years no old soldier
appealed to him in vain. Through the kindness of Colonel L. G. Fawkes,
R.A., I am enabled to give the following charming letter addressed by
Sir Harry at this time to Sergeant T. Himbury, an old soldier of the
95th:—
“Government House, Devonport, May 20th, 1853.
“Old Comrade Himbury,
“I well recollect you. Upon the receipt of your letter of the 16th
inst., I recommend your memorial to ‘The Lords and other Commissioners
of Chelsea Hospital’ to have your pension increased to two shillings
a day. There are few men now remaining in the British Army who have
seen _so much_ service and been in so many actions as yourself; and
the fact alone, of your having been wounded when one of the Forlorn
Hope at the important storm of San Sebastian, where we, the Light,
Third, and Fourth Divisions sent our gallant volunteers, is enough.
The Lords Commissioners are very kind to such gallant old soldiers
as yourself, and, if they can increase your pension, I am sure they
will. Let this certificate accompany your memorial, and let me hear
that another, though not a forlorn, hope has succeeded. My wife well
remembers your picking her up when her horse fell upon her, and again
thanks you.
“Your old friend and comrade,
“H. G. Smith, Major-General,
“Colonel 2nd Battn. Rifle Brigade.”
Sir Harry’s interest was not confined to the rank and file, and early
in June, finding on the appearance of the _Gazette_ that various
officers whom he had recommended for promotion for their services in
South Africa had had their claims overlooked, he wrote some vigorous
letters to Lord Hardinge, the new Commander-in-Chief, and in some cases
obtained what he desired. In one of these letters (12th June) he adds,
“I had a great sham fight yesterday on Roborough Downs, horsed four
guns myself, and taught the troops a _forward_ fight.”
Early in 1854, we see the shadow of the Crimean War coming over the
land. It was a new experience for Harry Smith to be at home when there
was fighting to be done. But now Charles Beckwith wrote to him
from Turin, “I suppose, old boy, that our share in coming events will
be reading the _Gazette_ at breakfast, shutting the garden-gate, and
turning the siege of Dendermond into a blockade.” That was what it had
now come to.
[Illustration: LADY SMITH.
_From a drawing by Julian C. Brewer, 1854._ [_Opposite p. 658._]
In March, 1854, Sir Harry had permission to appoint as his aide-de-camp
Lieut.-Colonel Holdich of the 80th Foot, who had held the same position
during the Sutlej campaign and in South Africa, and had since greatly
distinguished himself in Burmah. Although Colonel Holdich resigned this
position in 1856 in order to proceed with his regiment to South Africa
(Major Hugh Smith replacing him), he remained closely bound to Sir
Harry and Lady Smith to the end of their lives.
On the 20th June Sir Harry became Lieutenant-General (in South Africa
he had had the local rank of Lieutenant-General, but no more), and on
the 29th September he was transferred from Devonport to Manchester,
being appointed to the command of the Northern and Midland Military
Districts. Soon after he and his wife took up their residence at
Rusholme House, which was their home till 1857, when they removed to
Somerville, Victoria Park.
One of Sir Harry’s first duties, after taking up his command at
Manchester, was to proceed to Hull to supervise the military
arrangements for the reception of the Queen, who was to pay a visit
there on her way from Scotland. After being present at Her Majesty’s
arrival on the evening of 13th October, he dined by command with the
royal party at the Station Hotel. Next morning he was on the _Fairy_
when the Queen made a tour of the docks, but immediately afterwards
left Hull on another mission of great interest. At the request of Lord
Hardinge, now Commander-in-Chief, he proceeded on the 15th October
to Paris to represent the British Army at the funeral of Marshal St.
Arnaud, who had died in the Crimea. He was accompanied by his own
aide-de-camp, Lieut.-Colonel Holdich, Colonel Brook Taylor, A.G. of the
Manchester District, and Lord Arthur Hay, aide-de-camp to Lord Hardinge
(representing the Commander-in-Chief). On the 16th Lord Cowley, the
British Ambassador, entertained the military deputation at breakfast,
and then conveyed them to the Invalides, the place of interment. Sir
Harry was subsequently admitted to an audience of the Emperor at St.
Cloud, of which he has left the following note:—
“After a very long conversation, the Emperor said, ‘You will see the
Queen, and I pray you to assure Her Majesty how sensible I, the French
Army and Nation are of the mark of respect paid to us by sending to
attend the melancholy funeral of Marshal St. Arnaud, an officer of
your rank and reputation with a Deputation of British Officers. The
amicable relationship which existed between the Marshal and Lord
Raglan renders his loss still more to be deplored.’”
Sir Harry was back in London on the 21st.
Christmas, 1854, brought Sir Harry a double sorrow. His “third
Waterloo brother,” Charles, died at Whittlesey on Christmas Eve, and
four days earlier his old friend Sir James Kempt passed away at the
age of ninety. On 17th January, 1855, Sir Andrew Barnard followed. On
Sir Andrew’s death, Sir Harry, who had been since 1847 Colonel of the
2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade, was appointed to the command of the 1st
Battalion. In one of his strangely beautiful letters written on 27th
January, Charles Beckwith grieves over the sufferings of the men in the
Crimea, gives his friend some of his thoughts on the great mystery of
death, and then refers in particular to the recent deaths of their old
friends.
“What a good old fellow Sir James was! I did not feel Sir Andrew’s
loss so much, as they told me that his intellect had failed. I had a
good letter the other day from Lord Seaton. All these men I regard as
the patriarchs of all that is solid in England. These men and their
fellows, the men of Alma, Balaklava, Inkerman, of the _Birkenhead_,
and the Arctic Regions, I hold to be the foundation-stones of England.
In them is incarnate the sense of duty and obedience as a fixed habit,
not a sentiment or conviction, as the people say, but a true witness
of the Omnipotent who wills it thus.... Adieu. Love to Juana. We
must expect to be rather ricketty at the best, but we may toddle on.
It is highly desirable that we may all go together as nearly as may
be. Bring Bright to a garrison Court Martial, take care of your old
bones, remember me kindly to any old fellow that may write to you, and
believe me,
“Your affectionate friend,
“Charles Beckwith.”
It might atone for many faults in Harry Smith that he loved and was
loved by Charles Beckwith.
The following letter to H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge and the Duke’s
reply are self-explanatory:—
“Manchester, March 9, 1855.
“Dear Sir,
“I cannot avoid expressing to Your Royal Highness my _delight_ on
reading the opinion so nobly given by you, when in the Chair, as
to the Patriotic Fund, of the _value_, _worth_, and _zeal_ of our
Regimental Officers. In a service of fifty years I have ever found
them the same, and ever looked up to and beloved by their soldiers.
Your Royal Highness’s expressions in the Chair are calculated to do
vast good in these twaddling and criminating times, and to uphold that
class of men, alone qualified to command British soldiers, who feel
themselves that gentlemen best command them.
“H. G. Smith,
“Lieut.-General.
“To H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge, etc.”
“St. James’s Palace, March 10th, 1855.
“My dear Sir Harry,
“Many thanks for your most kind letter just received. I really am
delighted to find that all my friends _approve_ of my speech the other
day. I felt it was a duty I owed to the Officers of the Army to state
what I did in their favour, they having been most unjustly assailed
from all quarters, and not a soul to take their part, which I felt
was too bad. Never are there a set of men who have worked harder, and
their trials have been great. You know my devotion for the service. I
could not allow such imputations to go by unanswered. The Departments
have been very bad, though I admit their great difficulties, but the
Army, as far as troops are concerned, cannot be improved.
“I remain, my dear Sir Harry,
“Yours most sincerely,
“George.”
In May Sir Harry received with great pleasure from Prince Adalbert
of Prussia the beautifully illustrated volume on the First Sikh War
written by the lately deceased Prince Waldemar, who had fought in those
battles as a volunteer, and had gained the esteem and affection of his
comrades.
On the 25th July Sir Harry wrote to Major George Simmons—
“I have not been myself since the 18th June last. I went to Preston
to inspect some militia and a Depôt Battalion of the line, and I was
wet for six hours. George, on _one_ 18th June, I did not much mind a
wetting. Age is a bore. Ah, poor dear Lord Raglan! He died, I fear,
_of a broken heart_. I desire you write ‘Dear Harry S——,’ and not
‘Dear General,’ you old humbug. Juana sends you and yours her love, as
does your old comrade,
“Harry Smith.”
As General in command of the Midland District, Sir Harry was present
at Birmingham on 22nd November, when Prince Albert laid the foundation
stone of the “Midland Institute.” On rising to reply for the “Army and
Navy,” he called forth vociferous cheering by the words, “I pray my
country not precipitately to make peace. Let peace be based upon the
surest foundations.”
A letter of Lady Smith’s dated “31st March, 1857,” reminds us of the
regulation ordering all officers to leave the upper lip unshaven, of
which the effect is seen in portraits of Sir Harry after this date.
“Your uncle is, thank God, quite well. His moustaches are growing very
nicely, and I do think they become his dear old face.” A week later he
wrote to his nephew, Mr. George Moore Smith, of Whittlesey, his native
place, to express his delight at “the pluck” he had shown during some
riots, when the rioters had cheered him for going in among them.
On 5th May the Manchester “Art Treasures” Exhibition was opened by
Prince Albert, who wrote the same night to the Queen: “After luncheon
[at Abney Hall] we donned our uniform, and drove with an escort, etc.,
etc., to Manchester, some six miles, and through the town—Sir Harry
Smith upon his Arab ‘charging the multitude.’”[226] On 29th June
the Queen and various members of the Royal Family, including Prince
Frederick William of Prussia, newly betrothed to the Princess Royal,
visited the Exhibition. It was Sir Harry Smith’s duty to make all
the military arrangements, and he rode on the right of Her Majesty’s
carriage in the procession. When the Queen was about to knight the
Mayor, she turned to Sir Harry for his sword, telling the Mayor at the
same time that it had been “in four general actions.” On receiving it
back he respectfully bowed, and, stooping over it, pressed the hilt
to his lips. Her Majesty afterwards expressed a wish for the sword,
saying, “Do you value it very much, Sir Harry?” and, needless to say,
it was at once presented to her. Sir Harry had worn it from 1835.[227]
Sir Harry and Lady Smith having invited General and Mrs. Beckwith
to come over from Paris and stay with them during the time of the
Exhibition, the General replied, “You must understand that if I should
come to England, I shall certainly present my wife to Juana. As to the
Exhibition, it will be a thing to be seen and _felt_, but your house
will be little better than a hotel for a part of the time, and I think
much more of your blessed faces than of all other possible sights.
I had rather see John Bell’s ‘old divine countenance’ than that of
Raphael himself.”
That summer of 1857—the summer of the Indian Mutiny—filled the letters
of Harry Smith and Charles Beckwith with gloomy forebodings. It is
interesting to see the reminiscence of the old Light Division contained
in the last words of Beckwith’s letter of the 18th September: “Do you
think ‘Young Varmint’[228] can get to Lucknow? I have some doubts. God
protect him and bless him.”
General Beckwith did not achieve the visit to Manchester in 1857,
but wrote on 15th January, 1858, that he would like to come in the
following July. He says—
“I am glad to hear from you, because you really know something of what
is going on in the world, and, above all, something of the men who
take an active part in directing its affairs. I have nothing but my
own theories and the newspapers to direct me, two fallacious guides.
It is impossible not to shed a tear on H. Havelock’s grave. I wish he
could have once more embraced his wife and daughters. There is another
thing, Harry, that hangs on my mind, and that is Punjaub Lawrence.
As far as I can see, nothing was foreseen and nothing was prevented
from Calcutta. Everything—wisdom, counsel, action, foresight—came from
Lahore. ‘There was a little city and few men within it, and there came
a great king against it, and besieged it, and built great bulwarks
against it. Now, there was found in it a poor wise man, and he by
his wisdom delivered the city; yet no man remembered that same poor
man.’... My wife, the most simple-minded creature living, sends her
duty to Juana, and I send my love. Is John Bell on the staff of your
district? My kind regards to him. I think with reverence and affection
of his ‘old divine face.’”
In May Sir Harry Smith, Lord Burghersh and the Garter King at Arms were
commissioned to go to Lisbon in attendance on the Marquis of Bath,
who was to invest Don Pedro V., on the occasion of his marriage,
with the Order of the Garter. The young queen, Princess Stephanie of
Hohenzollern, visited the English Court on her way to Portugal, and Sir
Harry and Lady Smith were bidden to a dinner-party at Buckingham Palace
on 7th May, and to a State Ball on the 10th, given in connexion with
her visit.
Lord Bath and his suite reached Lisbon on the 17th, a day before the
Queen. They were present at various festivities held in honour of the
royal wedding, and after the investiture at Belem Palace on the 27th
were the guests of the King at a State Dinner. Sir Harry received from
the King at this time the Order of St. Bento d’Aviz. It must have been
very interesting to the Peninsular veteran thus to revisit under such
different circumstances the place where he and George Simmons had
bathed together forty-eight years before when convalescent from their
wounds received at the Coa.[229]
Alas! the first letter he received from Charles Beckwith after his
return told him, in sentences worthy of Thackeray, that Simmons, with
his simple hero-worship of them both, had passed away.
“Todas son muertas! and amongst the rest old George Simmons, who went
out of the world in a few moments with a smile on his countenance. The
first thing George would ask was, ‘Where’s the r_i_giment? My word,
the General and Sir Harry will soon be here.’”
He adds—
“I shall be ready to move on Manchester on the 14th July with my young
wife. I hope to find you during an interregnum of giving dinners and
dining out, as I want to comfort my head and heart during my stay
in England, and have no reverence for cotton lords. Your blessed
faces and those of the old stock that I may be lucky enough to meet,
will mend up and comfort my soul which has passed through a dreary
desert for the last thirty years. I had much rather see old Sousa e
Silva[230] than Milner Gibson. In fact, it is not safe for me to get
into a colloquy with this sort of chap, as I should certainly rap out
something disagreeable.... Love to Juana. Corramba, how I shall enjoy
myself at Manchester!”
In July the anticipated visit duly took place.
On the 9th October, at Newcastle, Sir Harry inspected for the last
time his own Regiment, the 1st Battalion Rifle Brigade. When he had
inspected them and put them through some rapid manœuvres, he formed
the men into square, and addressed them in words full of his lifelong
affection for the corps. That was the only Regiment or Battalion, he
said, in which he had taken his place in the ranks, and their services,
their “everything, in fact,” would never be forgotten. He then desired
the men to let him get out of the square, observing that he well knew
he never could get into it if they wished to prevent him.[231]
Early in 1859 Sir Harry had a bad fall and cut his knee. He went to
London unwisely, inflammation came on, and he nearly lost his leg.
Beckwith writes to him—
“My dear old Fellow,
“What a spoony of a Manchester doctor to let you set off! Why
didn’t you turn back? However, when you’ve got your nose in a given
direction, you _never_ turn back.... You see how a man may be
‘severely wounded’ being at ease and in his own house, after riding
through showers of lead and iron unscathed. I am certain that you will
have greatly profited by this occasional martyrdom, and that you are
now much fitter to ‘fall in’ in the ranks of the celestial army.”
For eight weeks the patient was confined to his room, and almost
constantly to his bed. He reports his return to Manchester on 12th
April and adds—
“In a few days I hope to mount Alice’s[232] pony. I have suffered
very much occasionally, but my pluck never forsook me. My greatest
distress was to see my dear old faithful wife suffer so—her anxiety
was intense.”
Sir Harry’s five-years’ command of the Northern District was to
expire on the 30th September. He hated the idea of being out of
harness, and wrote in May to the Duke of Cambridge, begging that he
might be reappointed, but the Duke replied that, though his feelings
were strongly in favour of continuing Sir Harry in the command he so
worthily filled, he could not, in justice to other officers, make an
exception in his case. Accordingly Sir Harry saw his time at Manchester
drawing to an end.
There, as in all his previous employments, he had gained the love
and esteem of all who came in contact with him, by his high spirit,
his generosity, and his kindness of heart, while they smiled at his
soldierly inflexibility in little things. A lady who visited him at
this time tells me how severe he would be on bad riders, or men who
used a spoon to their pudding or left a wine-glass unfinished; how
proud he was of his little beautifully-formed foot, and how when in
bad health he would scrupulously dress for dinner, perhaps to imitate
the Duke of Wellington, whom he made his pattern in all things; how he
would ride a very strong and spirited horse, although it exhausted him;
how he would take men into his employment from pure charity, because
they needed assistance; how in society he would devote himself still to
the prettiest woman present; how rigidly punctual he was in his house;
how charming with children and young people; how he would go through
whatever he felt to be his duty at any cost.
Sir Harry’s departure from Manchester was therefore a time of severance
from many friends. The Council of the City, in a formal resolution,
requested the Mayor to assure him of their regret at his removal, and
their thanks for the great courtesy and kindness with which he had
discharged his duties. In his reply to the Mayor, Sir Harry wrote—
“After the approbation of his Sovereign, the greatest compliment which
can be conferred on the soldier is to live in the affections of his
countrymen. Thus to learn that the Council of the wealthy and populous
City of Manchester appreciates any services it has been my duty to
perform is, I assure you, most gratifying to my feelings. During the
five happy years I have commanded the Northern District and resided
in Manchester, I have received the greatest kindness and hospitality
both in the City and in the neighbourhood, and joyfully do I record
that during that period no single instance of any collision between
the citizens and the soldiers throughout these extensive districts was
ever brought before me.... The kindly feelings evinced by you, Sir, in
your letter of transmission, are most forcibly impressed upon my mind,
the more so as you include Lady Smith, the faithful partner of my
joys, sorrows, and military career for so many years in every quarter
of the globe.”
Lord De Tabley wrote—
“I do assure you that, amongst the many neighbours who have had
an opportunity of forming your acquaintance and cultivating your
friendship during the period of your command here, there is no one
who regrets the termination of the command more sincerely than I and
my family. Most exceedingly also will the Regiment, which you have so
kindly, more than once, inspected, miss the cheering and encouraging
glance and word of the General they were always so glad and proud to
see. As you say, time passes, but I trust that friendship and kindly
feeling will remain.”
Similarly, Lord Derby, “the Rupert of debate,” wrote from Knowsley—
“Your retirement will, I am sure, be a subject of very general regret.
I hope that Lady Derby and I may have the pleasure of again seeing you
and Lady Smith at this place. I beg of you to place me at the feet of
the Doña Juana, and to believe me, my dear Sir Harry,
“Yours sincerely,
“Derby.”
To Major C. W. Meadows Payne, his second aide-de-camp, whom he had
first met in South Africa in the thirties, Sir Harry wrote a warmly
affectionate letter of farewell.
“Manchester, 30th Sept. 1859.
“My dear old and valued Friend Payne,
“This day closes for the present our Military Career—but no change in
our circumstances can effect any change in that Fraternal Love which
has endeared us to each other for so many years. During the last five
years, while my A.D.C., you have been of the greatest possible service
to me in both your official and private capacity, my interests have
been yours, and the frank confidence I have ever reposed in you has
been observed with every regard for my honour.
“It may happen, even at my advanced age, I may be again employed—if
so, I hope you would again join your General who so valued your
services.
“Meanwhile, Payne, may every blessing attend you and yours, and may
every Veteran General have such a Friend as yourself to confide in.
“Your old friend,
“H. G. Smith.
“Major Payne, A.D.C.”
There was one other loved friend from whom Sir Harry had now to part.
His little Arab “Aliwal” had been ridden by him at Maharajpore and at
all the battles of the Sutlej Campaign; it had come home with him to
England in 1847, accompanied him to the Cape, returned with him in
1852, and had since served him faithfully in his commands at Devonport
and Manchester. A lady, the daughter of Sir Harry’s aide-de-camp, Major
Payne, writes—
“My sister and I have a vivid recollection of the lovely horse, and
how, when we used to meet Sir Harry when we were out walking and he
was riding, he would call out, ‘Stand still, children,’ and then
come galloping up at full speed, and Aliwal would stop at our very
feet;[233] and my mother used to tell us that on the anniversary of
the Battle of Aliwal, when there was always a full-dress dinner at
the General’s house, some one would propose Aliwal’s health, and
Sir Harry would order him to be sent for. The groom would lead the
beautiful creature all round the dinner-table, glittering with plate,
lights, uniforms, and brilliant dresses, and he would be quite quiet,
only giving a snort now and then, though, when his health had been
drunk and the groom had led him out, you could hear him on the gravel
outside, prancing and capering. The horse was now old, and Sir Harry,
in his new house in London, would not be able to keep him; and though
Sir Robert Gerard (now Lord Gerard) kindly offered him a home, Sir
Harry feared that his old age would perhaps be an unhappy one, and he
resolved to shoot him. My father and the faithful groom were with Sir
Harry when he did so, and I believe they all shed tears.”
That night Sir Harry’s place was vacant at dinner, and he was seen no
more till the following morning. The following epitaph on his horse in
Sir Harry’s handwriting is still preserved:—
“Near this Stone is buried Sir Harry Smith’s celebrated
Arab charger of the Purest Blood,
‘Aliwal.’
Sir Harry rode him in the battles of Maharajpore, Moodkee,
Ferozeshahur, Aliwal, and Sobraon. He was the only horse of the
General Staff that was not killed or wounded. He came from Arabia to
Calcutta, thence to Lahore; he has marched nearly all over India;
came by ship to England, thence to the Cape of Good Hope and back
to England. He was twenty-two years old; never was sick during the
eighteen years in Sir Harry’s possession. As a charger, he was
incomparable, gallant, and docile; as a friend, he was affectionate
and faithful.”
On leaving Manchester Sir Harry and Lady Smith visited Sir John Bell at
55, Cadogan Place, London, and took a house for themselves a few doors
off (No. 15), which they entered at the end of November.
The letters of General Charles Beckwith show him to have been vexing
himself for years with the question, “How is England to defend herself
against invasion?” Although Harry Smith’s letters to him are not in
my hands, I do not doubt that he had also deeply pondered the same
momentous problem. Neither of the friends forgot the famous letter
which Wellington, in their eyes the wisest of all Englishmen, had
addressed in 1847 to Sir John Burgoyne, and in which, after saying that
he had studied our Southern Coast piece by piece and did not doubt that
a foreign army could be landed at many points, he added—
“I know no mode of resistance excepting by an army in the field
capable of meeting and contending with its formidable enemy, aided by
all the means of fortification which experience in war can suggest.
“I shall be deemed foolhardy in engaging for the defence of the empire
with an army composed of ... a force of militia. I may be so, I
confess it. I should infinitely prefer an army of regular troops. But
I _know_ that I shall not have these. I may have others.
“I am bordering upon seventy-seven years of age passed in honour. I
hope that the Almighty may protect me from being the witness of the
tragedy which I cannot persuade my contemporaries to take measures to
avert.”[234]
These solemn words of warning were present to the minds of Beckwith and
Harry Smith when, in 1859, they saw the public mind seriously alarmed
by the fear of invasion, and an army of citizen soldiers springing up
in its defence. They would have been untrue to their master if they had
not gladly hailed the Volunteer Movement, and seized the opportunity
of aiding their country to put its defences in order. Harry Smith,
as we have seen, had told the Guernseymen of the immense value of a
citizen army. On 17th May, 1859, he wrote at Manchester the following
memorandum:—
“1. I am one who thinks that the most formidable enemies are the armed
population of a country—take Switzerland, America, Spain, etc., and I
have never seen more formidable opposition than by armed savages even.
“2. I would therefore _gradually_ enroll every man in England who has
a vote, and teach them to _shoot_. That is all we require at present;
plenty of time to talk of a little drill and embodiment. And as we may
become threatened by war, I would enroll all gamekeepers and their
helpers as Light Infantry, or rather _Riflemen_. I would enroll all
the navvies, give them arms, but call them ‘Pioneers.’ I would enroll
all the Railroad men, not to take them from the rail, but teach them
to _shoot_.
“3. I would never talk of war, but thus show such a set of Bulldog
teeth as no sensible enemy would like the grip of. All this in aid of
the Regular Army, the Militia, etc.
“4. I would erect such works at Plymouth as I have long ago pointed
out: no _great_ fortifications; _outworks_ of strength, on points
which would render it unassailable. So at all our ports, etc.
“5. Why, when _the_ Napoleon threatened us with invasion, Mr. Pitt
had 800,000 men with arms in their hands; 200,000 more enrolled.
Every waggon, boat, etc., was numbered, and alarm-posts established
everywhere throughout England. By heavens, if any enemy, or _enemies_,
thought of invading us, England would ‘chevaux-de-frises’ like a
porcupine’s back, with lots of men everywhere. These are our resources
if our Navy let them land. And we should have _swarms_ of little
steamers with Armstrong’s guns on our coasts.
“6. I should like some ‘Places d’armes’ on the Reigate Hills
range—small, but capable to resist all but a siege. These points being
occupied add to the defensive, and are capital Points of Rendezvous.
“7. If the war[235] is protracted and our neutrality shaken, we must
go back to the old constitutional plan of Ballot for the Militia.
“8. All I have here written about would be easy, feasible, and
requisite if a large French Camp was forming in Boulogne, Cherbourg &
Co., but, as yet, John Bull’s steam is hardly up. Government measures
of defence upon the basis of _strict neutrality_ would be acceptable
to the People, and, by Government being energetic, the People would
think there is more necessity than they see, and would rally round
it in defence of Queen, Country, ‘pro aris et focis.’ And if they
did not get their steam up, give them a touch of ‘The blessings of
Tortona’[236] and various other interesting anecdotes of war and
contributions, etc., etc.
“H. G. S.”
Sir Harry’s interest in the question was still shown after his removal
to London. The _Times_ of 19th December having discussed in a leader
whether the country would be wise in following Lord Palmerston’s advice
and spending £10,000,000 on fortifications, or in trusting its defence
merely to its fleet, army, and volunteers, Sir Harry again put his
views on paper in a letter to the editor (which, however, seems not to
have been published). I give a few extracts:—
“3. What you state as to Fortifications is truly correct. They must
ever be regarded as auxiliaries, and no mode of defence would be more
objectionable than ‘large fortifications,’ absorbing, as you observe,
the men required in the field.
“4. ‘Should we not take our stand upon the ocean and the coast
rather than assume that an enemy will make good his advance into the
country?’ On this allow me to observe that, in war, one of its first
principles is to ensure a ‘reserve.’ This, if we were defeated at
sea (which I by no means anticipate), your _small_ fortifications
around your arsenals, docks, etc., and upon a few points on the most
vulnerable side of the capital, would secure.
“7. A movable Column or Columns of Riflemen and Armstrong’s guns might
not arrive at the point in time. Defences must be permanent and leave
nothing to chance.
“8. The assertion that ‘No force would ever attempt a landing on
a hostile shore in the face of 2000 Riflemen supported by good
artillery,’ is very correct, but it must be observed that this small
force would cover but an atom of the coast, and the enemy would land
on either flank, leaving a force in front of the ‘atom of defence.’
“11. Arm the People, who have demonstrated their readiness. Place
such an armament under a system of organization which would ensure
obedience. That authority to emanate and be exercised direct from the
Crown, and to descend by a continuous chain of responsibility from the
Crown to the private. Thus would England be so armed as to prevent the
melancholy exhibition of a Panic, as injurious to her trade throughout
the world as it is degrading to her position as a State. Nothing so
well ensures the friendship of nations as irresistible power.
“12. I conclude by asserting that the Navy, some small fortifications,
the Army and Militia, and the ‘Rifle Volunteers’ (in other words,
‘the Armed People of invincible England’) will ensure her defence as
effectually as they will re-establish her ‘prestige’ throughout Europe
and the world.”
At Glasgow, when the survivors of the “Sharpshooters” of 1819 met
to consider the question of re-embodying the old force, they wrote
to their old commander, and received a letter from him full of
reminiscences of his Glasgow days, and full of encouragement to them to
do what they were proposing—
“London, Feb. 7, 1860.
“My war cry for England has ever been, _Arm the people!_... Some of
my gallant and experienced comrades who write upon the subject of the
defence of England take as extreme and one-sided a view as some of
our leading journals do on the other—the one declaring the inutility
of Volunteers, the other that they are omnipotent. I ask either of
these extremities—If you saw a large French army in battle array,
which must occupy a large tract of country, with artillery, cavalry,
and _their_ sharpshooters, how do you propose to check their advance?
I cannot conjecture the reply of either. But this I will assert and
maintain, with my last breath—It is alone to be done by a combination
of regular troops, as a barrier and a reserve, with swarms of riflemen
everywhere as powerful—most powerful—auxiliaries. We must bear in
mind that the distance from our coast to London is barely three days’
march, hence the object of the enemy is to advance by a _coup de main_
to seize London. Could I say loose troops would stop them? No. But a
combination would ensure their defeat, and then let loose the sons
of Britain, with this command—‘_Forward_ and shoot; you shall all be
supported at the requisite points.’ Should any enemy have the audacity
to attempt our shores, could he avoid our ever invincible Navy, I
as a General of some experience in war, would be proud to command a
combined force as I have described, and ‘Let deeds show.’...
“One word more. _Teaze_ not our youths as Volunteers with the minutiæ
of drill—a few things are alone necessary. To march in quick time,
to march in column, form line, gain ground to the right and left,
to advance again in line, to extend and occupy bridges or walls; a
rallying square may be practised. Soldiers require these alone in the
field. Then, to be _good shots_. Pluck enough they have, and, with
prompt obedience, England’s regular army, so nobly supported and its
numbers so increased, can, may, and _will_ defy the ——.
“Let our watchword be,
“‘Arm the People.’
“Ever faithfully yours,
“H. G. Smith.
“To Peter Mackenzie, Esq., _Gazette_ Office, Glasgow.”[237]
When others were timorous of the Volunteer Movement as a danger to
public order, Harry Smith saw in it the possible salvation of the
country which he had served valiantly with the sword and could serve
now only by words.
His spirit was still high, and it chafed him to live in London without
horses and on a diminished income. He had never had the art of saving
money, and he now writes (7th March) to Major Payne—
“You would laugh to see me poring over twopences. Hang me if I know
how people in England live. I hate London, and I love you, Tom.
“Your friend,
“Harry Smith.”
He says in the same letter that he had taken a cold at the funeral of
his old friend Sir William Napier, but when he writes again on 12th
June he gives a better report of himself.
“Everybody tells me I look well. I am thin, but as active as ever. I
want horses and that stirring exercise. I _say nothing_, Tom, but I
do feel the loss, for the last fifty years having ever had a right
good stud. But you can’t eat your cake and have it. London full of
_the world_, a most heartless reunion; it is for the _girls_ a regular
Constantinople. Tom, do write often. I don’t care what the subject
of your letter may be, so that it is not melancholy. Say it rains or
don’t rain; yesterday ’twas fine, to-day pouring with rain again.”
Two months later the old man has had a warning that his sands are
nearly run. He asks his “dear old Tom Payne” to copy a paper which he
has drawn up.
“You won’t d—— me, won’t you? I have not been well lately with violent
palpitation of the heart, and I should not like to slip my wind
without an attempt to secure for Juana the pension of my rank which
must be an especial [one?]. I have consulted Yorke and Bell, who agree
in my course; but, Tom, I am no nearer dropping off the hooks for
doing this.
“Yours,
“Harry Smith.
“I write _on my back_ to-day, but _much better_. Say nothing of all
this.”
The following letter, addressed to Major Payne by Colonel Shadwell
(Q.M.G. at Manchester), though of the nature of a false alarm, shows
the coming of the end, and how it struck home to those who loved him.
“Manchester, 15th Sept. 1860.
“My dear Tom,
“You will probably have heard from London direct of our dear old
friend Sir Harry’s alarming state. From Alice’s account this morning,
he was yesterday morning _in extremis_, and ere this has most likely
breathed his last.
“It has come like a thunderbolt on us, as only five days ago Lady
Smith wrote to us in such good spirits about the dear old man.
“We saw him, I am now thankful to say, when in town for a few days the
middle of last month.
“I presume, from the intense agony he has endured, that he has
succumbed to an attack of angina pectoris.
“What a friend we have lost! so true, so constant, so generous, so
kind, and then to think of dear Lady Smith! I shudder to think of what
her state will be when she comes to realize it.
“My wife is quite upset by it, and so am I.
“Always, my dear Payne,
“Yours very truly,
“Lawrence Shadwell.”
On the 12th October, at 1, Eaton Place West, which had been his home
for the last six months, the end came. Sir Harry had reached the age of
73 on the 28th June preceding.
A year before, in sending his nephew George Moore Smith a subscription
towards the restoration of St. Mary’s, Whittlesey, he had written, “I
enclose a cheque for _our_ subscription to the repairs of the Dear
Old Church, which I do most willingly, and should do more willingly
if _our_ bones could repose with our fathers.” But though the church
where his father and mother lay was closed for interments, he could
still be taken to Whittlesey, and there in a corner of the new cemetery
he was laid to rest on the 19th. All business in the little town was
suspended for the day, and some thousands of the inhabitants of the
town and district lined the route of the procession. The Rifle Corps
of Ely, Wisbeach, March, Ramsey, and Whittlesey were represented at
their own request, and with arms reversed preceded the hearse from the
station to St. Mary’s Church, and thence to the cemetery. The coffin
was borne by eight old soldiers who had all served under Sir Harry, and
had all won medals; the pall-bearers were six Whittlesey gentlemen,
most of them his schoolfellows. Among the mourners were his surviving
“Waterloo brother,” Major Thomas Smith, his nephew Lieut.-Colonel Hugh
Smith, Colonel Garvock, his Military Secretary at the Cape, and Colonel
Shadwell, whose letter has been printed above. Three volleys were fired
over the grave by the volunteers of Whittlesey, March, and Wisbeach.
A sum of £700 was subscribed to found a memorial to Sir Harry Smith’s
memory, and was spent on the restoration of that part of St. Mary’s
Church, Whittlesey—the chapel at the end of the south aisle—in
which, when it was used as a schoolroom, he had received his early
education.[238] It is now known as “Sir Harry’s Chapel.” On the south
wall was erected a monument of white marble surmounted by a bust of
Sir Harry, executed by Mr. G. G. Adams, A.R.A.[239] It bears the
inscription:—
“This monument was erected and this chapel restored in 1862 by public
subscription to the memory of Lieutenant-General Sir Harry G. W.
Smith, Baronet of Aliwal, Knight Grand Cross of the Most Honourable
Order of the Bath, Colonel of the 1st Battalion, Rifle Brigade. He
entered the 95th Regiment in 1805, served in South America, Spain,
Portugal, France, North America, the Netherlands, India, and at the
Cape of Good Hope, of which he was Governor and Commander-in-Chief
from 1847 to 1852, and on the Home Staff to 1859, when he completed
a most gallant and eventful career of fifty-four years’ constant
employment. He was born at Whittlesey, 28th June, 1788,[240] and
died in London 12th October, 1860. Within these walls he received
his earliest education, and in the cemetery of his native place
his tomb bears ample record of the high estimation in which his
military talents were held by his friend and chief, the great Duke of
Wellington.
“Coruna, Busaco, Fuentes d’Onoro, Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca,
Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Orthez, Toulouse, Waterloo,
Maharajpore, Ferozeshuhur, Aliwal, Sobraon, South Africa.[241]
“O Lord, in Thee have I trusted; let me never be confounded.”[242]
[Illustration: SIR HARRY’S CHAPEL.
(His monument is on the left.)
_From a watercolour by Mrs. B. S. Ward._
[_Opposite p. 684._]
On Sir Harry’s tomb in the cemetery, Lady Smith caused to be inscribed
the last sentences of the extract from the Duke of Wellington’s speech
of 2nd April, 1846, given above (pp. 558-560), though in a slightly
different version.
After her husband’s death, Lady Smith resided for some years at 19,
Robertson Terrace, Hastings, and later at 79, Cadogan Place, S.W.
Passionately cherishing her husband’s memory, she was the beloved
friend of all members of his family, and the goodness of heart and
active sympathy which she showed to some who were heavy-laden will
never be forgotten by their descendants. The editor of this book
recalls from his boyhood the proud and animated tones in which she
would speak of “Your uncle Harry”—pronouncing the name with the full
Continental _a_ and a strongly trilled _r_. Her noble heart ceased to
beat on the 10th October, 1872, and she was laid with her hero in his
last resting-place at Whittlesey.
Of the other close friends and companions of Sir Harry Smith, Charles
Beckwith died in July, 1862, among the Piedmontese whom he had
served so truly; Sir John Bell in 1876, having lived to the age of
ninety-four.[243] Sir Harry’s sister, Mrs. Sargant (of whom it has
been humorously said that she was “the only person in the world of
whom he was afraid”), died in 1869; his youngest sister, Miss Anna
Maria Smith, in 1875; his brother, Colonel Thomas Smith, C.B.—the last
survivor of the family of eleven—in 1877. Colonel Smith’s widow still
lives at the age of ninety-three, fresh in body and mind, though it is
ninety-three years since her husband sailed to the Peninsula under Sir
John Moore.[244]
Few words are necessary in bringing this book to a close. If it has
been a long one, the Editor can only plead that Harry Smith put more
into his seventy odd years than would make the lives of half a dozen
other men.
The autobiography shows us the strong family affections of his
boyhood, his abiding reverence for his father, who had made him a
_man_ and a bold horseman, his love of brave soldiers like Colborne
and Barnard and Pakenham, his supreme worship of his great master
and example, Wellington. Such were the influences under which he was
trained for the service of his Sovereign and of his country. In the
hour of responsibility it was seen that he possessed in rare harmony
qualities on which that training had not been thrown away—“an ardent
spirit, which inflamed a whole army with kindred ardour, combined with
a power of self-control which kept the mind clear and calm in the
most difficult emergencies—the union of fiery passion with temperate
reason.”[245] A born leader, he never lost the confidence of the
officers and men who were under his command—he had it as clearly amid
the anxieties and disappointments of the Kafir War of 1851-2 as after
his marvellous campaign of Aliwal. His soldiers literally loved him,
both for his bonhomie and for his lifelong zeal for their welfare.[246]
Sir Harry Smith was above all things a great soldier. In his civil
administration of the Cape, undertaken at a time of enormous
difficulty, his success was less brilliant than elsewhere, but even
here he justified Havelock’s opinion of him: “There is no species of
business which Harry Smith’s mental tact will not enable him to grasp.”
History will approve of the firm stand he made against mob-rule in
the time of the Anti-convict agitation, and, seeing events in true
perspective, will forget little errors of judgment (magnified at the
moment by party-feeling) when set side by side with his zeal for the
good of the Colony and his far-sighted perception of England’s true
policy in South Africa.
Such practical mistakes as Harry Smith made, both within the Colony
and in his dealings with Kafir chiefs, were due to a generous,
chivalrous disposition, which was ready to put the best construction
on other people’s conduct and to attribute to them a goodness of heart
resembling his own. With an open foe, in warfare, he was caution
itself, but he was too little of a Macchiavelli to read treachery in
the smile of a seeming friend. A generous open nature was similarly
responsible for such flaws in his character as his hastiness and warmth
of language under provocation,[247] as his extravagance in money
matters (strangely contrasting with the severity in many respects of
his own life), and a little vanity in regard to his own achievements,
a vanity perhaps not more real than other men’s, but occasionally
less carefully concealed. If he sometimes seemed to his subordinates
an exacting master, we may remember that during his whole career as a
soldier he had never spared himself.
If any one were disposed to take an unfavourable view of this or that
trait in Harry Smith’s character, I hope the picture given of him in
these pages would be a sufficient corrective. Praised by Wellington for
his generalship as hardly any man else was praised, acknowledged by
Havelock as the man who had made him a soldier, he had through life the
warm respect and love of a score or two of brave and worthy men, such
as D’Urban, and John Bell, and Kempt, and Barnard, and Kincaid, and
George Simmons, and Charles Beckwith. They recognized his rare military
genius: they respected him because, in his own words, he had always
been “a working man who put his heart into his work:” they loved him
for what Lord Raglan called “the chivalrous and gallant spirit” which
had been his guide in his military career; because he was fearless of
danger, indomitable in energy, overflowing in kindness, magnanimous and
placable towards those who seemed his foes, loving his friends, even
to his old age, with the ardour of a boy. Little wonder that one of
the noblest and largest-hearted of women also pardoned his faults and
adored him as only few men have been adored.
Historians may perhaps find some matter of instruction in the
autobiography now presented to them. But is it too much to hope that
it may have a still happier fortune, and that young Englishmen and
Englishwomen yet unborn may be kindled to a noble emulation by the
brave and glowing hearts of Harry and Juana Smith?
APPENDIX I.
Diary of the Expedition to Monte Video, etc.
1806-7.
“E’er since reflection beam’d her light upon me
You, sir, have been my study; I have plac’d
Before mine eyes, in every light of life,
The father and the king. What weight of duty
Lay on a son from such a parent sprung,
What virtuous toil to shine with his renown,
Has been my thought by day, my dream by night:
But first and ever nearest to my heart
Was this prime duty, so to frame my conduct
Tow’rd such a father, as, were I a father,
My soul would wish to meet with from a son.
And may reproach transmit my name abhorr’d
To latest time, if ever thought was mine
Unjust to filial reverence, filial love.”
Mallet.
1806. _Nov. [Oct.?] 9th._—Sailed from Falmouth under convoy of
His Majesty’s ship _Ardent_ (Capt. Donnelly), _Unicorn_ frigate,
_Daphne_, 20-guns ship, _Pheasant_ and _Charwell_, Sloops-of-war, with
a fleet of about 25 transports, a store-ship for the Cape of Good
Hope, and a merchant ship for the East Indies. The force consists
of a Company of Artillery, under Capt. Dixon; three Companies of
the 2nd Battalion Rifle Regiment, under Major T. C. Gardner; 17th
Light Dragoons, Col. Loyd; 40th Regiment of Foot, Col. Browne; and
87th, Col. Sir Edward Butler; the whole under Brigadier-General
Sir Samuel Auchmuty. Brigadier-General the Hon. William Lumley,
Brigadier of the Horse; Lieut.-Col. Bradford, Deputy Adjutant-General;
Lieut.-Col. Bourke, Deputy Quartermaster-General; Captain Blake,
Assistant Adjutant-General; Lt. Tylden, Brigade-Major to Sir Samuel;
Captain Roach, Brigade-Major to General Lumley; Mr. Baddock, Deputy
Paymaster-General; Mr. Bissett, Deputy Commissary of Accompts; Mr.
Redman, Deputy Inspector of Hospitals. A fine breeze until the 12th,
when we were becalmed in the Bay of Biscay. Lovely weather.
_13th._—A breeze sprung up which increased into a gale. Blew dreadfully
hard. Sea ran mountains high. Continued until the 16th, when it
gradually died away; a heavy sea still running, with the heavy rolling
of the ship, sprang the main piece of our rudder. We made a signal
of distress, which was instantly answered by the Commodore, who made
a signal to the _Charwell_ to come alongside us, which she did, and
hailed us. She immediately sent a boat on board with her carpenter.
Soon after the _Unicorn_ came up with us. She also sent a boat on
board, with a lieutenant, midshipman, and carpenter, with everything
requisite to repair our rudder, which was soon done. A steady breeze
until the 18th, when it again blew hard. The _Daphne_ and a Transport
with 150 men of the 40th Regiment parted convoy in the night. Still
continued to blow until the 23rd, when we were becalmed. Lovely
weather. Captain of the ship took an observation for the first time
since at sea. Latitude 47° 35′ North.
_24th._—Breeze sprung up. Lat. 39° 37′. Breeze freshened. Continued
until the 30th. Commodore lost a man overboard. Lovely weather. In the
evening observed two large whales close to the ship. They followed us
some time and greatly amused us. Lat. 32° 9′.
_Nov. 1st._—At daybreak discovered land, to our great delight. It
proved to be the Canary Isles. In sight of them the whole of the day.
The ground appeared mountainous and barren, with an aspect bleak to a
degree. Beautiful weather, with a fine breeze which soon carried us
into the Trade winds. The flying-fish begin to be innumerable.
_Nov. 4th._—Lat. 23°. A shark passed close under our stern.
_Nov. 5th._—Lat. 21° 40′. Fine fresh breeze. The _Harriet_ Transport,
with the Artillery on board, made a signal of distress, which proved
to be from the death of her captain. Flying-fish so numerous, they
resemble large flocks of larks. Some of them were by accurate
observation seen to fly from 100 to 200 yards and upwards.
_Nov. 6th._—Lat. 18° 31′. Fine fresh breeze. In the evening an
unfortunate flying-fish flew on board us, being close pursued by an
enemy, which measured 8 inches from head to tail, and 9½ from the
extreme of each wing. Tail forked like a mackerel. Cooked him for
breakfast the next morning. Every one tasted him.
_Nov. 7th._—Lat. 16° 53′. Thermometer 80° in the shade. Weather
very warm. Signal from Commodore for Commanding Officers of Corps.
A fine turtle close to the ship. We wished for him on board. To our
astonishment, although a considerable distance from land, we were in
shoal water the whole of the day, supposed to be a sand-bank, the water
by times being quite discoloured. Commodore, not meaning to put into
any port, made a signal for the troops and seamen to be put on short
allowance of water, two quarts per man, all ranks.
_Nov. 8th._—Lat. 15° 19′. Therm. 84°. Scorching hot. Speared some fish
at the bow of the ship.
_Nov. 9th._—Lat. 15° 12′. Therm. 82°. Fine weather, but no breeze.
Caught two venata with bait. They resemble a mackerel as much as
possible, except that they are about twice as large. Cooked them.
Coarse, hard and bad eating. A flying-fish flew on board and fell into
a tub of water.
_Nov. 10th._—Lat. 14° 34′; long. 23°. Therm. 83°. _Pheasant_,
Sloop-of-war, made sail in search of land, which must be the Cape de
Verd Isles. Suppose she made it, as she joined convoy in the evening.
_Nov. 11th._—Lat. 12° 57′. Therm. 82°. Venata are innumerable. It is
very amusing to see them leap out of the water in pursuit of the poor
flying-fish.
_Nov. 12th._—Lat. 10° 49′. Therm. 82°.
_Nov. 13th._—At 10 a.m. every appearance of a storm. The clouds put
on a terrible aspect. Fortunately it was not violent, going off with
torrents of rain. Five minutes before 5 p.m. a waterspout was observed
to the westward, which emptied itself in torrents over the bow of the
_Pheasant_ without intermission, until 5 minutes past 5.
_Nov. 14th._—Dark cloudy weather. No observations.
_Nov. 15th._—Lat. 7° 53′. Therm. 83°. A boat of the _Charwell’s_
swamped as they were about to hoist it up. All hands overboard, but
saved. Went on board the Commodore with returns to the General.
_Nov. 16th._—Lat. 6° 38′. Therm. 86°. Sultry close weather, with
storms of thunder and lightning. Stark calm, with tremendous showers,
the rain coming down in torrents, not drops.
_Nov. 17th._—Lat. 6° 17′. Therm. 82°. Weather less sultry, with heavy
showers. A large flight of birds resembling ducks ahead, so close
together in the water they resemble a floating island. Loaded rifles
and fired at them, but to no purpose.
_Nov. 18th._—Lat. 6° 1′ Therm. 84°. No breeze. Tremendous thunderstorm,
with torrents of rain.
_Nov. 19th._—No observation, being cloudy dirty weather. A signal for
masters of transports to go on board Commodore. A brig sent home for
inattention and not obeying signals. The troops on board her were
distributed on board different ships. Wrote letters home in hopes of
being able to send them by her, but a breeze springing up prevented our
lowering a boat, to my great disappointment.
_Nov. 20th._—Lat. 4° 44′. Therm. 82°. Nice breeze but rather ahead. At
6 p.m. the _Pheasant_ passed us under all sail. On coming alongside the
Commodore she hoisted his ensign, which was immediately returned by
him. It is always done when a ship parts convoy. Suppose she is sent
forward to Buenos Ayres.
_Nov. 21st._—Lat. 3° 45′; long. 26° 38′ West. Therm. 82°. Fine breeze.
_Nov. 22nd._—Lat. 3° 14′. Therm. 81°. Squally. Wind changing often and
suddenly.
_Nov. 23rd._—Lat. 2° 30′. Therm. 80°. Weather cool, considering how
near we are to the sun.
_Nov. 24th._—Lat. 1° 49′. Therm. 82°. Fine breeze but rather ahead.
Evening squally. A strange sail to windward. Proved to be an American.
_Nov. 25th._—Dark and cloudy. No observation. Plenty of wind.
_Nov. 26th._—Lat. 15′ South; long. 32° West. One of the sailors caught
an immense large albacore with a spear. Took three men to haul him in.
He had a curious prickly fin upon his back, which he could completely
hide in a crevice so as not to be perceived, and when hurt would set it
up. Sea completely covered with flying-fish. A signal made for our ship
to take in tow the _Three Sisters_, a small brig, she being to leeward.
Ran down to her and obeyed the signal.
_Nov. 27th._—Lat. 1° 29′; long. 32°. Speared another large albacore,
which measured 4 feet long and 2 feet 9 inches in circumference.
_Nov. 28th._—Lat. 3°. Therm. 82°. Signal made by Commodore signifying
land in sight, bearing south-south-west, upon which he altered his
course one point more to the westward. Supposed to be the island
Ferando Noronha.
_Nov. 29th._—Lat. 4° 12′. Therm. 84°.
_Nov. 30th._—Lat. 5° 27′; long. 34° 15′. Therm. 81°. Took in tow the
_Osborne_, a large ship with Dragoons on board.
_Dec. 1st._—Lat. 6° 39′. Therm. 82°. At 6 o’clock a.m. a signal made by
Commodore signifying land in sight, supposed to be Cape Augustin.
_Dec. 2nd._—Lat. 8° 20′. Therm. 82°. Have observed for these two or
three days the flying-fish have almost entirely disappeared.
_Dec. 3rd._—Lat. 10° 3′. Therm. 81°. The two merchant ships, the
_Lincoln_ and _Loyalist_, the former bound to the East Indies, the
latter store-ship for the Cape of Good Hope, parted convoy. On altering
their course every ship hoisted her ensign, which was returned by them
by way of farewell. Had a pretty effect.
_Dec. 4th._—Lat. 12° 42′. Therm. 81°. Lovely breeze. A signal for
masters of transports to caulk and prepare their boats for landing.
_Dec. 5th._—Lat. 15° 24′. Therm. 80°. A schooner in sight to the
westward bearing down for us. Overhauled by the _Charwell_, and proved
to be a Portuguese bound for San Salvador.
_Dec. 6th._—Fresh breeze. No observation.
_Dec. 7th._—Lat. 19° 26′. Therm. 82°. Observed a shark which followed
the ship a long time, accompanied with three pilot fish. Threw a bait
to him, upon which one of his pilot fish swam to it and tasted, and
reported accordingly to its master. Observed the breeze to die away by
day and blow by night.
_Dec. 8th._—Lat. 20° 8′. Therm. 86°. Dreadfully hot.
_Dec. 9th_—Lat. 20° 48′; long. 39° 34′.
_Dec. 10th._—Lat. 22° 5′; long. 40° 29′.—A signal from Commodore
signifying land in sight, supposed at first to be Rio Janeiro,
afterwards proved to be Cape Frio, about 40 miles distant from it.
Therm. 85°. A tremendous thunderstorm, louder than anything I ever
heard.
“Loud thunder from the distant poles ensue,
Then flashing fires the transient light renew.”
_Dec. 12th._—Beating all day off Cape Frio, endeavouring to get into
port. Wind ahead. At 9 p.m. wind came round. Weathered Cape Frio.
_Dec. 13th._—Made the bay. On the first appearance of the land it put
me in mind of the following lines in Thomson’s _Hymn on the Seasons_:—
“Should fate command me to the farthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beams
Flame on th’ Atlantic Isles, ’tis nought to me,
Since God is ever present, ever felt,
In the void waste as in the city full,
And where _He_ vital spreads, _there_ must be joy.”
Appearance of the land before the entrance of the harbour, mountainous
and woody. At 7 p.m. came to an anchor at the mouth of the harbour. The
darkness of the night prevented our going in. The hills surrounding
illuminated with the most vivid lightning I ever saw, equally beautiful
as awful.
_Dec. 14th._—At 12 weighed anchor. The entrance of the harbour is very
grand. On the left hand is an immense rock called the Sugar-loaf, which
it correctly resembles. At the foot of it is a strong battery. On the
right hand is a pretty little fort, apparently very strong, having
three tiers of heavy guns. At a small distance from the mouth of the
harbour is a little island with a fort upon it, which gives the bay a
pretty and rather romantic appearance. As soon as the Commodore came to
an anchor, he fired a salute of 19 guns, which was immediately returned
by the different batteries, the echo of which in the surrounding hills
was beyond description grand.
General, Staff, and Commodore went on shore to call upon the Viceroy.
When in the boat the _Ardent_ fired a salute of 15 guns to them. The
General obtained permission for the officers and a proportion of men to
go on shore.
_Dec. 15th._—Went on shore, and was highly delighted with the town of
Rio Janeiro. It is very large but irregularly built, situated on a
spacious and commodious bay. You land nearly opposite the Viceroy’s
palace, which stands on the south side of a large and regular square.
You see nothing scarcely but poor slaves carrying immense loads, and
friars in their cocked hats going to and from the monasteries. Their
carriages resemble in some manner our single-horse chaises, but badly
made and drawn by two mules. On the near one rides the charioteer, in
a huge cocked hat; the off one is in the shafts. They go astonishingly
quick. Saw but few horses, those small and bad. The mules are most
beautiful animals, and the inhabitants tell you are much more
serviceable then the horses. They are as clean about the legs as our
race-horses, and full of spirit. Fowls and ducks plentiful, but rather
dear. The oxen and sheep are small and bad. Pigs in abundance. Fruits
of all sorts. Pines are larger than ours, but not so fine flavoured;
you get them for 6_d._ apiece. Oranges, lemons, limes, sweet and sour,
bananas, yams, etc., etc. They make no butter or cheese. They get
it from England or America. The grandees, when they appear abroad,
are carried in a kind of palanquin, which is borne on two negroes’
shoulders. Most of these are blue, and adorned with fringes in general
of the same colour. They have a velvet pillow, and above the head a
kind of tester with curtains. He may either lie down or sit up. (See
Guthrie.)
I must think, from what we have seen of the inhabitants, Guthrie speaks
too harshly of them. They paid us every attention—nay, so much so that
they were troublesome; and were honest in their dealings. The canoes
afforded us great amusement. They are rowed by two or three negroes,
according to the size of them—not with oars, but a thing resembling a
spade. They appear, as they go along, to be digging the water.
I went into one of their monasteries, the chapel of which was very
grand. There was also a capital library. The monks were extremely
polite, and showed us everything particular. Their service is in Latin.
There are four monasteries, and two nunneries filled with poor wretches
of girls, who are not allowed to speak to their own fathers. I dined
in what they call a cooking-house. The host showed us into a miserable
back room looking into the kitchen, where was a black fellow cooking.
My stomach was not yet turned. No glass in the window (but that is
the case with all the houses, except those of the grandees), and the
light shining through the pantiles over our heads. We had for dinner
first some macaroni soup, half oil, and scraped cheese to eat with
it; afterwards some mutton chops swimming in grease, pork chops in a
similar way, a pair of fowls we could scarcely pull to pieces, not
an atom of flesh on their bones. There was also a piece of thin beef
rolled up with the stuffing in it and roast—a famous dish for a hungry
mastiff dog. These being removed, we then had a cold plum-pudding,
which was very good. We drank at dinner bad American bottled ale,
afterwards some decent port wine. When we called for our bill, we were
all amazingly astonished. It came to 4880—_whats_, we could not tell.
We afterwards found it was about six dollars. They give you always
their bills in that way in some imaginary coin about half a farthing
value.
_Dec. 16th._—Did not go on shore. At 6 p.m. a Portuguese brig came into
harbour, laden with poor wretches of slaves just taken from the Guinea
coast—the most horrid sight imaginable.
_Dec. 17th._—Went to see a grand review of the Portuguese troops. They
performed pretty well. There was a regular regiment of militia, and a
volunteer, with some dragoons and artillery, amounting in all to about
2000 men. After it was over, all the English officers were presented to
the Viceroy. Nothing more worth setting down. All of us quite tired of
the place, and anxious to get away.
_Dec. 23rd._—Sailed for Buenos Ayres. Nice breeze.
_Dec. 24th._—Lat. 24° 47′. Out of sight of land. Therm. 80°.
_Dec. 25th._—Lat. 25° 32′. Therm. 76.° Blows hard, with a heavy sea.
_Dec. 26th._—Lat. 26° 51′. Heavy swell and no breeze. An immense shoal
of porpoises swimming towards the north. In hopes of a fair wind, as
they always swim against the wind.
_Dec. 27th._—Lat. 27° 48′. Stark calm. At 4 a.m. a strong breeze sprung
up, but quite ahead.
_Dec. 28th._—Lat. 27° 52′.
_Dec. 29th._—Lat. 27° 29′; long. 47° 9′. Went on board the Commodore.
A large shoal of porpoises by their swimming portending a fair wind,
which soon sprung up.
_Dec. 30th._—Lat. 30° 21′.
_Dec. 31st._—Lat. 32° 11′. Anxious to get along, but the wind against
us.
1807. _Jan. 1st._—Lat. 32° 20′; long. 51° 15′.
_Jan. 2nd._—Lat. 32° 30′. Wind against us.
[_Remainder apparently written afterwards._]
Landed four miles north of Monte Video 16th Jan., had a sharp skirmish
with the enemy.
_19th._—A regular battle. Licked them confoundedly.
_20th._—A very severe action. The enemy’s loss very great.
_3rd Feb._—Stormed the fortress of Monte Video. A severe conflict.
Indeed, our loss, as well as that of the enemy, was very great.
_16th Jan., 1807._[248]—Sharp skirmishing with enemy.
_17th._—Ditto.
_18th._—Ditto.
_19th._—A regular and victorious battle in the open field.
_20th._—They made a sortie; were repulsed with great loss.
From the 20th Jan. to 3rd Feb. constant skirmishes. On the morning of
the 3rd Feb. stormed the fortress of Monte Video with severe loss on
both sides; but carried it.
_7th April, 1807_ [_7 June_?].—Colonel Pack made a sortie from Colonia
with 1000 men to meet Colonel Elio, whose force consisted of 1500.
Entirely routed him, and took six pieces of cannon.
_3rd June_ [_5 July_?].—Attacked Buenos Ayres by assault. Was made
prisoner, and confined three days and three nights.
Embarked for England, and arrived at Falmouth 5th Nov.
1808.—Embarked at Harwich for Sweden latter end of May [April?]. Sailed
soon afterwards. Was two months in Gottenburg harbour, when we sailed
for England, and refitted at Portsmouth for Portugal. Landed about 30
miles north of Lisbon latter end of July [August?]. Marched through
the south of Portugal into Spain. Had a very hot action with the
French between Villa Franca and Calcavellos 3rd Jan., 1809. The loss
was nearly equal on both sides. Take it all together, the most severe
conflict I ever saw.
Embarked at Corunna in January, and reached England soon after.
Ready to embark again.
APPENDIX II.
Some Family Letters preserved by Harry Smith with Particular Care.
_Letter I._ Endorsed—“_7^{th} May, 1813. From Eleanor on Stona’s
marriage.—H. G. S._”
Whittlesea, May 7^{th}, 1813.
My Dear Henry,
From the ardent desire which you have long expressed concerning
Stona’s marriage, it will, I am convinced, give you pleasure to hear
that the nuptials are at last solemnized. The ceremony took place on
Tuesday, which was the fourth of May. Mr. Coleman was father, and
of course led the bride to church. Stona, Kate, Charles, and Anna
Maria followed, and my Uncle Ground’s John in a handsome livery,
and Stona’s own servant (who is a particular smart-looking young
man) dressed in a drab coat, and a gold band on his hat—all new for
the occasion—attended to receive the bridesmaids’ parasols at the
church door, and remained there in waiting during the ceremony. When
concluded, the party returned to breakfast at my Uncle Ground’s,
where were assembled to meet them a group of relations consisting of
about two and twenty. Each of us was presented with a white favour,
the ringers and servants also. There were forty favours given away.
The bride and bridegroom, accompanied by Catherine, set off at twelve
for Cambridge, and from thence they proceeded to London. I assure
you they cut a dash. The postboy of course had a favour on his hat,
and James, Stona’s man, attended them on horseback as far as Ramsey.
Unfortunately it was a Newmarket meeting, and Cambridge was so full
that they could not get beds, were therefore obliged to proceed
another stage that evening. About five the next day they arrived in
the Metropolis, and when they had dined, they dressed for Covent
Garden Theatre. Stona repeatedly expressed a great wish that it
was possible to meet you in town. Neither the bride nor bridesmaid
would, I can venture to say, have had any objection to that. Never
poor fellow I think was in a greater agitation than Stona during the
ceremony and two days before. When he was being married he trembled in
such a manner that Anna Maria expected no other than he would drop the
ring—and he was himself much afraid lest he should have fainted at the
altar....
I must not omit to tell you what a very pretty place Stona’s house is,
and so handsomely furnished that I declare it is enough to make me
long to be married....
We are now always changing our Curates; next week Mr. Cook is going to
leave us, and that handsome gentlemanlike man, whom I mentioned to you
in my last, Mr. Powis, is to take his place. The young ladies, they
say, will become very religious, and many of them attend prayers.
I have, since writing the above, received a letter from you for which
I thank you a thousand times. Believe me, I am not offended at the
remark you made respecting my age, and the next time I hear from you,
I expect the letter addressed to “Mrs. Eleanor Smith.” You will, my
dear Henry, be six and twenty in June.
My Mother, I am happy to say, is better than when I last wrote,
though still rather delicate. My Father goes into quarters on Sunday.
Wisbeach, as usual, is to be head-quarters.
Mrs. W——, I fear, has not added much to her happiness by marrying
W——, for he is excessively idle, an _epicure_, a free _drinker_, and
a _notorious debauchee_. With such a man, can any woman be truly
happy?...
I hope you will lose no opportunity of writing, for, as I have
frequently observed, it is the greatest pleasure I can have in your
absence. Would to God we could have you among us. I never wished for
you more than I do now. My Mother is quite delighted that you wish to
see us.
As you do not say anything about Tom, I conclude he is well. Pray give
my love to him, and tell him that Mary Smith[249] is a pretty little
black girl, and generally allowed to be more interesting than ever her
sister was.
All your friends, my dear Henry, join in affectionate remembrance to
you and Tom; and sincerely wishing you health and happiness, believe
me to remain, dearest Henry, your truly affectionate sister,
Eleanor.
Addressed—
Brigade-Major Smith,
2nd Light Brigade,
Light Division,
Portugal.
Pd. 3/
_Letter II._ Endorsed—“_19^{th} August, 1813. The last letter
my dear Mother ever wrote to me. She died on the 12^{th}
December, 1813, Sunday.—H. G. Smith._”
Whitt^a, Aug^{st} 19, 1813.
My beloved Child^n,
What words shall I find sufficiently expressive to congratulate you
upon y^r great escape from the great perils and dangers you have been
exposed to, where so many of y^r brave countrymen have fallen? But
to God alone must the praise be given, who has preserved you both, I
hope to be an ornament to y^r country and a blessing to y^r friends,
and may God Almighty of his infinite mercy still hold his protecting
Arm over you both, and may we never lose sight of him, and have always
his goodness in our sight as never to neglect our duty for his great
mercies towards us at this time and all others.
This, my dear Harry, is an anxious time, and, tho’ we have not a
Lett^r from you, by the _Gazette_ we know that you are safe.
As for Tom, I think he never intends to write to eith^r of us again,
but I am proud to hear of him from you as being so brave a fell^w,
and hope to have Lett^{rs} by the next dispatches. We can make every
allowance for not hearing from you at this time, as indeed you must be
so much ingaged, but pray write whenever you can, and indeed it is one
of my greatest comforts.
I have been very ill, so much so that I never expected seeing eith^r
of you again, but with the blessing of God I am a very great deal
bett^r, and with the kindness of y^r Fath^r and the attention of y^r
Sis^{rs} I look forw^d with the hopes of seeing my beloved boys once
more under their parental roof....
We have been extremely healthy for a length of time that y Fath^r and
Bro^r make great complaints some time for want of something to do.
Poor R^d Binfield is no more. He payd the great debt of nature about
three weeks ago, after being a very great sufferer. When he was taken
to be buried, his Corpse was preceeded by six Girls dressed in white
with white turbans, and baskets of flowers in their hands, wh^h they
throwed into the grave as soon as the Corpse was let down. The Pall
was supported by six of the scho^{rs} in white Hat-bands, and the
whole Sch^l follw^d in the same way. It altogether was a pretty sight,
but rath^r too romantic, but you know the woman....
Y^r Sis^r Sargant is not in very good health, and is gone to Cromer.
It is upon the Norfolk coast, and is a very fashionable Bathing-place.
The rest of the Family, I am happy to say, are well. As for y^r dear
Fath^r, I think if you could see him you wou^d think he had grown fat.
We all Unite in Love to you and Tom, with best wishes for y^r healths
and prosperity. Pray write soon, and may God Almighty preserve you
both is the fervent prayer of y^r affec^e Moth^r,
E. Smith.
Eleanor desires me to say she is much oblidged to you for y^r Lett^r
and will write soon, and Betsy also says that unless Tom will write to
her she never will write again.
Addressed—
Brigade-Major Smith, Light Brigade,
2nd Light Division, Portugal.
Post paid to Falmouth.
_Letter III._ Endorsed—“_15^{th} Oct. 1813. From my Father,
saying my Mother was pleased with my Letter after a fight in
Spain.—H. G. S._”
Whittlesea, Oct^r 15^{th}, 1813.
My D^r Harry,
Your Mother receiv’d your letter the other day and myself one about a
fortnight back, both of which gave us great satisfaction, particularly
as you were both in good health and safe. We were in hopes as the
French were so much beaten by our brave fellows, and Soult having had
so good a specimen of the superior Abilities of Marshal Wellington
(superior they are indeed, for he is certainly the first General in
the world), that he wou’d have been glad to have got hived, and not
have exposed himself again to the second part of the same tune.
I was very sorry to hear of your Horse’s accident, as it must be a
great loss, but it was an accident and cou’d not have been prevented.
My Horse I bought for you to send into Portugal has turned out very
unfortunate. He has had a bad Cough on him for near a year, which
continued getting worse, and I was fearful of its terminating in
Glanders. Had he been quite well he was worth two hundred. However,
I was under the necessity of sending Long Will to Bridge Fair, and
selling him for what he wou’d fetch, which was fifteen pounds, leaving
me a loser of at least £100, for I was at great expence with him.
I was happy to find Cap^n Stewart’s horse turn’d out so well, but you
clapt your seal over the amount and we cou’d not read it. Send me the
amount when you write again. As to news I have none, for Eleanor gives
you that in all her letters.
I must say I feel hurt at Tho^s not writing at all.... I am very proud
to hear so high a character of him as an adjutant. Major Percival
came from Portsmouth with Bob Hotchkin to London, and seeing an
offic^r in the coach in 95^{th} uniform, he asked him if he knew Capt.
Smith, and he asked him which, Henry or Tom. They had a great deal
of conversation, and he said he believ’d Tom to be one of the best
adjutants in the service. A poor unfortunate Cripple he was. Bob was
with Gen. Murray at that noble business. He came Home extremely ill
indeed of Dysentery.
I am sorry to tell you poor Mr. Moore[250] I think is wearing up fast.
He has been severely afflicted with Rheumatism. He is better of Pain,
but left so weak and low that he can scarcely ride on horseback....
If any one is coming home that you can trust, I wish you wou’d send
me some flower seeds, but I am in great hopes you will bring them
yourself.
The Allies seem to be licking the French in Germany well, and I hope
will drive them into Peace.
We one and all unite in Love and affection to self and Tom, praying
God to protect you both is the prayer of your affect. Father,
Jn^o Smith.
Addressed—
Brigade-Major Smith, 95th Reg^t Rifle Corps,
Light Division, Light Brigade.
Serving under
Marshal Wellington,
Spain.
_Letter IV._ Endorsed—“_14^{th} Dec^r, 1813. My dear Father’s
Letter announcing my poor Mother’s Death.—H. G. S._”
Whittlesea, Dec^r 14^{th}, 1813.
We have received, my D^r Harry, your letter dated Sante Pe, Nov^r
14^{th}, and it was read by myself, your _D^r Mother_, Brothers, and
Sisters with infinite pleasure in finding you were both unhurt, and
with gratitude to the Almighty for the preservation of you both in
this and in every other danger you have so often been expos’d to.
But, my _D^r Boys_, what pain, what affliction is it to me to tell you
it is the last letter your poor dear Mother will ever hear or read
more from you.
You have been apprised of her ill health by your Sister Elean^r, and
we did not wish to distress your feelings by repeatedly telling you
the ill state of her health, for we were in hopes she might have got
well again. But alas! her D^r soul quited this earthly abode on Sunday
morning, Dec^r 12^{th}, in hopes of a joyful resurrection, which her
pious, virtuous, good life entitled her to hope for in her blessed
Lord and Redeemer. Oh Harry! she prayed constantly for the return and
welfare of you both; she suffer’d much in anxiety; she dearly, very
dearly lov’d you and adored you, and in her last prayers never lost
sight of her dear Boys abroad. She died in her perfect senses even to
the last moment. I hope she did not suffer very much in the separation
of soul and body.... Your poor distrest father, Brothers and sisters
all unite in the strongest love and affection for you both. God Bless
you.
Jn^o Smith.
Send a proper direction. Pray write to me on the Receipt of this.
Remember, my D^r Boys, that this letter is equally addrest to you both
by your very much afflicted Parent.
Addressed—
Brig^d-Major Smith,
Light Brigade,
Light Division,
Commanded by Col. Colborne,
Serving under Marq. Wellington,
France.
_Letter V._ Endorsed—“_19^{th} Feb^{ry}, 1814, after my poor
mother’s death, from my sister Eleanor.—H. G. S._”
Whittlesea, Feb^{ry} 19^{th}, 1814.
My Dearest Henry,
I received your melancholy and affectionate letter on the seventeenth,
and only waited to answer it until we could purchase a pair of Wild
Ducks to send with it to Mr. Angelo, who has very politely offered at
any time to forward our letters abroad. Heaven has indeed, my dear
Brother, thought proper to lay upon us a most heavy affliction; every
day proves to us the severity of our loss and the inestimable value of
her who is gone. You have indeed, my poor Henry, lost your best friend.
Never parent more truly loved a child than she did you. Never shall I
forget her the last time she read a letter from you. When I went in,
she raised her languid face from the pillow, and holding up the letter
to me, said with a heavenly smile, “I am quite purely [i.e. _well_]
to-day, my love, for I have had such a delightful cordial”—meaning your
letter. I have witnessed two deaths and heard of many, but never such
a one as our angel mother’s. For two months before her death, she was
not able to walk upstairs, but was carried up and down every day, and
laid upon a sopha in the dining-room. On the 10^{th} of December,[251]
she was so much worse, that we requested her not to leave her bed,
but she earnestly begged to be brought downstairs, and as soon as she
had recovered a little from the fatigue of being dressed and removed,
she told us that she felt her end approaching, and summoning my
grandmama, my aunts, and all her children around her, she took a long
and affectionate farewell of every one separately with as much calmness
and composure as if she was only going a short journey. With my father
she requested to be left alone, and continued talking with him for a
considerable time. She lamented greatly that she could not see her
other three boys, and wept when she left you her blessing. All the day
she spent in dozing, praying, and speaking peace and comfort to her
afflicted husband and children. Frequently she held up her hands to
look at her poor black nails, and would often request my father and
brother to feel her pulse, and begged they would tell her if it did not
get lower every time. She mentioned every particular respecting the
disposal of her clothes, and gave orders about being laid out and for
her funeral, and turning to my father, meekly said, “If not too much
expense, I should like a vault.” Oh, Henry, what a day was that! To
describe our feelings is impossible, but from your own on receiving the
intelligence of her death, you may form some idea of ours who witnessed
it. It was some consolation to us that she did not die below. She
loved to be carried upstairs. My father lay by her side all night, and
from her calm and comfortable slumbers was in hopes she would awaken
rather better. But when she awoke, she complained of being in a little
pain, which did not continue long. In about an hour after, with her
hands clasped in prayer, she breathed her last. Who, who beheld such a
scene as this could refrain from exclaiming, “May I die the death of
the righteous, and may my last end be like hers!” The highest respect
we can pay to her ever-lamented memory is to aim, my dear Henry, at
her perfection, that by a virtuous life here, we may be re-united
to her in Heaven. My poor Father is better than he was, but still
continues to feel his loss greatly, as do we all. But the conviction
of the eternal happiness of her for whom our tears flow blunts the
edge of our affliction. Our loss is most assuredly her gain. It is for
ourselves that we lament, and selfish indeed should we be to wish for
her return. Elizabeth is my father’s housekeeper, and Anna Maria and
her, by their attention to him, endeavour to assuage the bitterness
of his regret. Charles, by his own wish and the request of his dear
departed mother, is under the tuition of my Uncle Davie, who performs
to the uttermost—nay, I must say, exceeds the extent of his promise,
a convincing proof of his regard for her to whom he made it. Charles
neither boards nor sleeps in our house. At least, he does not breakfast
or dine with us, but he always comes in at eleven for some refreshment,
drinks tea, and sups with us constantly every evening, and on Sunday we
have his company all day. He is a very amiable, promising youth, and
I cannot speak too highly of my aunt and uncle’s kindness to him, nor
of his gratitude to them. Sam, by his own choice, is to be a surgeon
and apothecary, and by his good talents and attention has gained the
approbation of his father and brother. He is a very respectable English
scholar, and might have been a good Latin one if Mr. Binfield had
taught him properly, but by experience it is proved that, though Mr.
B. may understand that language himself, he is incapable of teaching
it to others. An opportunity has, however, presented itself for Sam
learning Latin in perfection, if he will be but diligent. Mr. Pratt,
our new curate, is allowed to be a classical scholar of considerable
eminence, and he has promised to instruct Sam.... Since my father was
in practice, he never had so little business as he has had for these
last two years. It is the general remark, that such a healthy time or
so long a continuance was never remembered. I was concerned to see
your friend Captain Eeles’ name in the list of wounded at the late
Engagement in Holland. I sincerely hope that the war is nearly at an
end, and that we may again meet, though the late melancholy change in
our family will render it both a happy and painful meeting. But you
must be confident that you have still many friends left, who dearly
love you, and believe me, no one better than myself.... All your
friends, my dear Henry, join in affectionate remembrance to yourself
and Tom, and believe me to remain if possible more than ever
Your truly affectionate Sister,
Eleanor Moore Smith.
_Letter VI._ Endorsed—“_13^{th} July, 1815. From my Father after
Waterloo, thanking God he had three sons unhurt.—H. G. S._”
Whittlesea, July 13, 1815.
My D^r Harry,
Never did I receive two Letters with such pleasure as your two last
since the fight at Waterloo. For three of you to have been engag’d
and to come off unhurt, must have been not the fate of chance, but
Providence seem’d to have watch’d over you all and protected you. How
grateful we all ought to be to the Almighty. I assure you my Prayers
have ever been offered up to the Throne of Grace, praying for the
Protection of you all, and a safe return to England. This has been one
of the most glorious, and most decisive, Battles that has been fought
this War. What a shocking sight to see the _Gazette_, it contain’d
full four Columns and a half of kill’d and wounded, and amongst them
so many Names I had so often heard spoke of. Poor Major Bringhurst
is among the kill’d, an only Son, and his poor father almost
broken-hearted.
Poor Mr. Moore is at my house, broken-hearted, and a most distrest
object in Health....
Poor Sudbury is dead, he has been a poor creature for many Weeks....
Your Mare was put to Cervantes, a Horse of L^d Fitzwilliam’s; she is
very well, and lying in my Wash ground with my Mare and foal, I think
the handsomest I ever saw. I am sorry to hear Charles’ Mare is like to
have bad feet; if so, the sooner she is disposed of, the better. Tell
Tom and Charles I expected to have heard from them long ago.
Give my Love to your Wife and tell her how much I felt for her, before
I heard of your fate, well knowing that she must have been dreadfully
alarm’d.
Your blood Mare is worth, Buckle tells me, a great deal of Money. Her
Dam is dead, and they have sent to him for her to Newmarket to breed
from.
Your sisters have told all the News, therefore I conclude with my Love
to your Wife and Brothers join’d with all at home.
I am your affect. father,
J. Smith.
Write soon.
Addressed—
Major Smith,
95^{th} Reg^t of Rifles,
Serving under the
Duke of Wellington,
France.
_Letter VII._ Endorsed—“_31^{st} Dec^r, 1816. My Father’s
Letter announcing the death of my good Grandmother, 83
years old.—H. G. Smith, Col._”
Whittlesea, Dec^r 31^{st}, 1816.
My D^r Harry,
After a very short tho’ not painful illness, your poor old Grandmother
paid the last debt of nature in the 83^{rd} y^r of her Age. During the
whole of the time she lay on her death-bed she retained her senses,
and died calm and reposed, a Blessing which God grant we may all do in
the same manner as she did, a Pattern of true Piety and Benevolence.
The changes in our family have within these last seven y^{rs} been
great, and _one of them_ painful and very distressing to me, having
lost that Companion whose Conduct endeared her to every one who at all
knew her, and, that being the case, how much more so must I have felt
her Loss! But these are trials we must all expect to meet with, and
let none of us in our _gay moments_ forget how soon the case may be
our own....
I find the House is to be sold, but times are so bad here now that
no one has got any money to purchase, however desirable they may be.
I hope if Charles and his Lady shou’d marry, they may become the
Purchasers....
Since the Death of poor old Jack, I have lost my Uria Mare, which I
was obliged to have shot. I afterwards bought a fine big Horse five
y^{rs} old, one I expected wou’d have proved valuable. After keeping
him about ten Weeks he made his exit as rotten as a Hare, so you see
I am one of those unfortunate Beings in the Horse way. I must now be
satisfied with my little Mare and my good old Gig Horse; when you are
tired of your bay Mare, forget not she is a particular favourite of
mine....
Remember me most kindly to all my friends, particularly Col. Achmuty,
Bell, and my old friend St. John.
Tell Charles we have not written to him as you wou’d be able to tell
him every particular. I hope his Mare turns out well and that he is
able to hunt her. How are all your Horses? I hope you have had good
hunting; it has been very wet here, and very heavy riding. I suppose
the same with you.
Give my Love to Juana, and tell her the whole of her Brothers and
Sisters do also.
I remain,
My D^r Harry,
Your affect. father,
Jn^o Smith.
Addressed—
Lieut.-Col. Smith.
Rifle Brigade,
Town Major,
Post p^d. Cambray,
France.
_Letter VIII._ Endorsed—“_18^{th} March, 1822. Eleanor as to the
Genealogy of my Mother’s family.—H. G. S._”
Whittlesey, March 18^{th}, 1822.
My dear Harry,
... You have desired me to collect for you all the information I can
of the Moore family, but that is very little. My good grandfather
Moore always used to say that he was descended from that great
though unfortunate man Sir Thomas Moore, who was beheaded in the
reign of Henry the eighth. Alice always says that she is sure we are
descendants, the arms are undoubtedly the same. When my poor Mother
was very young, my aunt Stona told her that she was descended from
no mean family, and to prove it unfurled a genealogical table which
reached half over the room, but my Mother was then so young that
she never could recollect much about it. She used to say that she
remembered seeing a number of Gabriel Moores. This table I am sorry
to say was destroyed during the riots in London. At that time my aunt
Stona lived in London and lost a great many valuable things. Our
great great grandfather was the first of the Moores who lived in
Whittlesey, and he was an Attorney and came out of Buckinghamshire.
... I must now say farewell, and with kindest love to yourself and
Juana, believe me, dear Harry, to remain your truly affectionate
sister,
Eleanor Moore Smith.
Addressed—
Lieut.-Colonel Smith,
Rifle Brigade,
Glasgow,
Scotland.
[_See Appendix VIII._, p. 794.]
_Letter IX._ Endorsed—“_2^{nd} Sep^r, reporting the death of my
poor and venerable Father, 2^{nd} Sep. 1843, ¼ before five
o’clock in the Morning; rec^d at Cawnpore 31^{st} Oct^{br},
1843.—H. G. S._”
Whittlesea, Sep^r 2, 1843.
My dearest Harry,
... Our beloved father breathed his last this morning at ¼ before 5
o’clock....
About three weeks ago Charles perceived an evident alteration in his
appearance. He became ill in health that week, and on Wednesday,
Aug^{st} 16^{th}, he took to his bed. His poor mind was in a most
distressed state and his terrors extreme. Unable to bear the suspense,
Anna Maria and myself set off for Whittlesea, Saturday, Aug^{st}
19^{th}. Eleanor had come to Charles’s from Northampton a few days
before, and on the Monday morning as we got to W. on the Sunday Tom
arrived. We found our poor father very ill, but certainly not like
immediate dissolution, tho’ his state was very precarious. We tried
to rouse him to recollection and to soothe him, and oh, blessed be
the Almighty for the mercy, we so far succeeded as to be convinced
that we restored him to happiness and peace. Tho’ not able to retain
recollection of us for many minutes together, he was ever conscious
that his children were about him; he blessed us, recognized us, asked
us to pray for him, to repeat the Lord’s Prayer, and one day he told
us he had _hope_, that God was a God of mercy. He never uttered
indeed two connected sentences, and he rambled incessantly, but the
character of his ramblings was altered—bits of hymns, parts of the
Psalms, exclamations to the Deity took the place of cries of terror,
etc. He was _happy_—our voices reached him and soothed him, and he
would reward us with a word or a look of love. He would lie in bed
and amuse himself with fancied dressings of himself, talk of driving,
etc., entreat to get out of bed, and would sit a few minutes in his
chair. On this day week we got him out of bed, when his happiness
was beautiful, but oh, the heartrending appearance he made! He was
_literally_ a skeleton; he had not an ounce of flesh on his whole
body, he was a breathing death. He knew us all, smiled on each (the
four daughters and Charles), dressed himself in imagination for a
walk and a drive, tied his handkerchief on his neck, and when he had
fidgetted away the blanket in which he was wrapt, and I put a light
chair cushion in his lap, saying, “It is cold, we must pull up the
apron of the gig,” he smiled and said, “What fun it is!” After a
little while he asked to go home; we laid him in bed and thought he
was dying. It was, however, but exhaustion, and he rallied again, but
he was never more so rational as this.
Oh, Harry, all my desire now was to gain something for you. I tried
him, asked him if he recollected you, spoke the name “Harry” in a
marked manner, and oh, Harry, you will thank me for this—at length he
said, “Harry, yes, God bless him.” I had touched the string. Some time
after he addressed a set speech (made of broken sentences) to Col.
Smith, in which he said he “thanked”—“noble deeds”—“to be praised”—and
much more that could not be gathered; but this was enough, his darling
son was not forgotten. He spoke much of William, always saying,
“William, I am coming,” and once he said, “Stop, Stona—I’ll go with
you.” He took decided notice of Anna Maria, but he held all our hands
as we sat by him, and would stroke them and take them to his cheek,
and even to his lips and kiss them. When he awoke in tears and we
spoke to him, it vanished and he became calm; and even when we prayed
by his side, if we told him not to interrupt us, he would become
quiet, seem to catch some sentences, become soothed and fall asleep.
The last three days he became very ill and the pains of death racked
him greatly, and it was _very_ sad to see his sufferings. He was dying
all yesterday and all the night, and oh, what an awful night we passed
by his bedside! He appeared to suffer a good deal from convulsive
affection of the muscles, but the strength of his constitution was
really wonderful. It was a hard struggle indeed for the victory.
After many hours’ most laboured breathing, he became gradually lower
and lower, and at length with one sigh, one struggle, one effort, he
breathed his last at ¼ before 5 o’clock this morning, Sept. 2^{nd},
having reached the great age of 87. We mean to lay him beside our
beloved mother on Wednesday afternoon....
I must close my letter, praying God to bless and comfort you, and
grant that hereafter we may all meet in Heaven and there form one
happy family again.... Kind love to you both from all.
Believe me your fond sister and friend,
J. A. Sargant.
APPENDIX III.
Memorandum addressed to Sir B. D’Urban on the Diet and Treatment of
Soldiers in Confinement.[252]
D.Q.M. General’s Office,
Cape Castle, [2 June?] 1834.
Your Excellency having been pleased to submit for my perusal various
documents relative to a scale of diet fixed by a Board of Officers, of
which the Hon. Colonel Wade, now Commandant of the Garrison of Cape
Town, was President, directing me to return them with any remarks
which my experience of five years as Commandant of that garrison may
enable me to afford, I beg to observe.
* * * * *
There are several officers under whom I have served whose example I
have ever endeavoured to imitate. The most conspicuous of them are
Sir Sydney Beckwith, Sir A. Barnard, and Sir J. Colborne. The leading
principle by which these officers of distinction were actuated was
that of kindness to their soldiers, and an endeavour to maintain
discipline by seeking out the meritorious to reward and commend rather
than the guilty to punish.
For the attainment of discipline and good order two modes are to be
adopted, encouragement and punishment. Towards well-disposed men, the
first is always preferable; the latter, however, must be appealed to,
but I have ever found great severity in punishment less calculated to
maintain discipline than a mild administration of the great power
Military Law vests in the hands of those in command.
In the study of my profession, to no branch of it have I paid greater
attention than to the prevention of crime and to the reform of the
ill-conducted, and the results of some years’ experience enable me
to affirm that it ought to be the duty of all officers, in the first
place, to endeavour by wise and salutary regulations to render every
one under their command happy. Cheerfulness is the mainspring of
discipline, and the desire to reward merit while crime is held in
execration, ought ever to be the delight of the officer. And although
for acts of disobedience and insubordination, or neglect of duty, I
would, _as I have done in this garrison_, inflict corporal punishment
to the utmost of my power, not only to punish the offender, but to
strike terror into the hearts of the spectators in the ranks, for
more moderate crimes, to see a fellow-creature, a comrade, dragging
on a miserable existence from week to week, nay, month to month,
in a solitary cell, or expected to be capable of daily labour and
occasionally to attend drills _on bread, rice, and water_, his bed a
watchcoat, _affording no public example_, is a species of protracted
cruelty I am as yet not prepared to inflict.
Confinement or the loss of liberty for a long period is in my mind,
under the most modified circumstances, a punishment severe indeed.
During the period I was Commandant, I made it a point to visit the
prisoners (whenever there were any) every Sunday, and the surgeon of
the week did the same during the week. I had written me a report to
that effect. My object was to see that they were in every respect as
clean as the meritorious soldier at duty, to ascertain that their
rations had been according to the scale hung up with my signature
in their cells, duly furnished them, and of a good quality, and by
conversation with them and pointing out the impropriety of their
conduct to ascertain their character. Many sentenced for a long period
I have taught to read and write; in the case of others, what little
knowledge they possessed I have improved by lending them books, etc.,
and in the proportion of ninety-nine in a hundred has my kindness been
attended by the most beneficial results. Some whose conduct in prison
was particularly good, and whose previous character was not heinous,
I have remitted several weeks’ confinement, ordering them to report
to me every Sunday, “My conduct has been good.” In no individual
instance, to the best of my recollection, has this leniency been
abused, and I will mention that in no garrison in His Majesty’s
dominions was heinous crime less frequent than in the garrison of Cape
Town whilst under my command.
No man is so degraded as not to be susceptible of kindness, and no man
so much requires a friend as he who has none even in himself. Many
is the vicious character I have reformed as captain of a company by
conduct of this sort, re-establishing a man in his own good opinion
and in that of his comrades. The want of a _point d’appui_ in distress
has been the ruin of many an individual, both civil and military, and
in my estimation the _morale_ amongst the soldiers tends far more to
attain discipline and happiness than the severe administration of
rigid justice. There are many of my brother officers, I am aware, who
differ very materially with me in this opinion, but, as practise makes
[perfect], I maintain that my system is the best, which, when combined
with a vigour of action in all military points, excites emulation
in both officers and soldiers and induces them to look up to their
commander as their friend.
* * * * *
The Royal Warrant now provides the sum of sixpence per diem for the
maintenance of prisoners without any reference to “bread and water,”
to ensure them being furnished with wholesome and sufficient food. I
cannot, therefore, for a moment conceive that reflection would put a
construction upon my prison-regulations as positively contrary to the
Royal Warrant.
Not only by inclination and predilection am I in all military acts
guided by the practice in the Light Division of the Duke’s army, but
[in this case] by Lord Hill’s circular letter bearing date 24th June,
1830.
My reasons, therefore, for submitting the scale of provisions I drew
up to the approval of Sir Lowry were—
(1) The practice in the Duke of Wellington’s army.
(2) The practice of the Light Division, ever construing all orders and
regulations to the benefit of the soldier.
(3) The Royal Warrant.
Although I very much differ in opinion from the Board as to the scale
they have fixed, I approve very highly of a distinction being made
between the diet of prisoners sentenced for long and short periods.
H. G. Smith.
APPENDIX IV.
Extracts from Harry Smith’s Letters to his Wife during the Kafir War,
1835.
Grahamstown, 30th Jan. 1835.
The Kafirs, from the manner in which I occupied all the passes in
their rear, had been beautifully harassed, and now fly from the sight
of _one_ of our people as rapidly as they flew towards him until
I stirred them up a little in their own country. So you recommend
shrapnel, grape, howitzers, shells! Well done! We will take your
advice: for old Johnstone[253] says true, you are the best general
he knows. I am sadly off for officers and assistants in my office.
Selkirk Stewart would be to me worth all the clerks in my office, and
old Johnstone all the officers I have in the field, Cox excepted.
The quantity I have to write and to do is really incredible, and
you know how quick I can get through my work. The people here are
astonished. But I have eased my labours very much by establishing
boards of gentlemen of the place and officers, one of clergymen for
the destitute families, one to receive the claims of all persons
whose property has been seized for military purposes, one to inquire
into the burgher force, a clothing board for the burghers, a labour
heretofore beyond even me. All these boards submit their proceedings
to me. I approve or disapprove, and act as supreme. Even thus, much of
my time is occupied; but it has reduced my labours much.
Bivouac between Fish and Keiskamma rivers,
close to Mount Somerset, 13th Feb.
Viva Enrique!
Mi queridissima muger,[254]
I have been in the field since Saturday last, sleeping in the bush,
_never better_. Was on horseback yesterday 28 hours, attacked the
Kafirs in five points like fun, gave them a good licking with a
trifling loss on our parts; seventy-three killed, counted on the
field, lots of wounded. Took 2500 head of cattle, goats, sheep,
etc.; gave them some of your shrapnel shells, but want a few of my
old Riflemen, although all my fellows are willing enough and full of
fight. Do not be afraid of Enrique. He takes good care of himself, and
never moves without 30 Cape Rifles as an escort.
A shocking accident occurred the night before last. The 72nd and other
troops lay in position waiting for daylight to attack; though every
precaution was taken and there was no fault, some one cried out, “The
Kafirs!” and the men jumped up and fired on each other before the
officers could speak. Three men were killed, and more desperately
wounded. This rather hindered my operations, because it alarmed the
enemy. However, thank God, I have done as much as I expected.
You cannot think how well I am. Nothing fatigues me, and although
my force is only 1200 men and 800 horses with four guns, yet my
operations are over an extent of 4000 square miles of country. We
were marching from 7 o’clock the 11th till 8 o’clock the 12th. No one
tired. This morning we want nothing but some grog, which I momentarily
expect. God bless you, old woman, and do not be afraid. Our God will
take care of us both. _Adios, alma mia._
Enrique.
Grahamstown, 26th and 27th Feb. 1835.
My Fish River trip was a very lucky one, and has had a great effect
on all the Kafirs. It is reported and believed that they are all
flying into Hintza’s country. He is a very powerful chief who has been
wavering in his policy towards us. He is, I believe, at the bottom
friendly, although he wishes to keep as much of the stolen cattle as
he possibly can. It is decided that the 75th Regt. remain on the usual
frontier line, and that the 72nd all go into Kafirland. The former
are as much mortified as the latter are delighted. To-day I go to
Hermanus Kraal, next day near to Fort Willshire to select a camp for
our invading force to assemble on. We are to select the most effective
men of the Burgher force, and send the remainder to the second line.
The Chief is now all for invasion. Paddy Balfour will be my A.D.C.
I should like you to see me with my escort, a trumpeter, a sergeant,
two corporals, and six fine fellows of the Cape Corps, five led
horses, Guides (a corps all well mounted), etc., and generally five or
six smart young fellows of volunteers; but I would give all the pomp
and glory of war for one quiet evening with _mi vida_ at Charlie’s
Hope,[255] though I am now writing by a nice little wood fire, as
comfortable as can be when away from my beautiful wife. You are in no
danger, _alma mia_, of being supplanted here. This is the most dull,
stupid, and horrid place on earth, celebrated for the most ugly of the
_fair sex_.
I have just been to inspect three detachments of Burghers. I will
give you a detail. One consists of 62 fighting men and horses, 50
non-combatants, 28 waggons. Another of 118 fighting men and horses,
80 non-combatants, 36 waggons. Only conceive what an army, and every
individual wants something, either shoes, shirts, bridle, saddle. It
is perfectly ridiculous, but yet when the poor fellows thus dragged
from their homes are in the field, they are good-humoured and willing
and shoot well enough. Oh! my old woman, glory is a fine thing,
domestic quiet is better. It was well enough when I was at the head,
but now second fiddle is slow. I am lazy and forget when things do not
fly like lightning.
All our own country is free from Kafirs, much more so than in times of
actual peace; still every post the postmaster comes to me for escorts.
To-day I blew him up and called him an ass. The panic with which the
people were seized here will not wear off for years. Had twenty Kafirs
shown themselves in the neighbourhood of Grahamstown a day or two
before my arrival, all would have either run away or shot one another.
What amuses me much just now, is that those who funked the most
formerly are the most valiant now that the danger is dispelled.
In two months I will, with God’s blessing, be with my dear old wife
to talk over my labours, which Heaven knows have been heavy enough. I
have gained credit for two things—one, licking the Kafirs; another,
blowing up the lazy idle rascals who will neither work, fight, nor do
anything but draw rations.
So you are a schoolmistress? Mind teach the young ones to sew and
work. It will do them more good than to read and write.
Love to all, and the sum total of all my love, affection, regard,
esteem, everything that is dear, to you, _alma mia_.
Enrique.
5 o’clock, 27 Feb.
When once I am in the field, I will work in my own way. _Master_ is
always floundering in the midst of information, whilst I like to take
a look at the ground, march, and take possession. Thank God, I have
been heretofore very lucky indeed. Do you recollect poor Thompson
saying, when the ants were swarming in the house, “Oh, sir, it is
great luck, great promotion for you somewhere”? It is very ridiculous,
but I often think of it.
I long to march, although I well see I shall have all the trouble of
war and marches without the all-stirring spirit of War. Ah, Venus and
Mars! Enough of the latter. I begin to think a quiet life of Darby and
Joan very agreeable. The fact is, it is better fun to be _together_ as
heretofore: only this is such a _naked_ country. At Genadendal there
was one pair of breeks between three boys, but here neither boys nor
girls nor women have breeks or sarks either.
I have been writing all day, still it is with much delight I keep on
writing to you, _alma mia_....
God bless my dearest virtuous wife.
Enrique.
Grahamstown, 6th March, 1835.
Thank God, my dearest old woman, you are well.... To-morrow the troops
commence their march upon the base of our future operations between
Fort Willshire and the Block Drift or the line of the Chumie, which
runs into the Keiskamma near the Fort. I went up there last Saturday
and had a beautiful ride of three days, doing everything I had to
do and returning a day and a half sooner than I was expected. It is
really wonderful how I bear work. I spread my karosse and lie down
with my saddle-bags under my head, and after thanking my God and
blessing my dear old woman, am asleep _in a moment_. The bivouac we
are going to is really one of the most beautiful things I ever saw,
and, thanks to the late rains, the grass everywhere is up to the
horses’ fetlocks. To-morrow I start with my escort—my corps of Guides,
my led horses, my interpreters, my secretaries. How you would laugh to
see such a motley group!
So I am to take care they do not shoot at me from the Bush? That story
about old Jem[256] and me was founded on very little truth. In the
middle of my Fish River fight, just as Jem was cooking some coffee and
I was writing, when we were surrounded by soldiers, three shots were
fired _at the whole_. I certainly jumped up and rattled the impudent
rascals “out of that” pretty quick; but, old girl, I am too much of
a Rifleman to be caught napping without every precaution of war. But
they do put such trash in the papers occasionally, it is quite amusing.
Camp near Fort Willshire, 12th March.
I wish you could see me, because then, you know, I could see you.
It is very delightful to unbend and not act always the great man,
although I assure you we laugh in camp sometimes famously. I almost
kill Hallifax at some of my roar-outs to the soldiers. Yesterday
morning, just before daylight in Fort Willshire, I desired his bugler
to blow the “rouse,” which you well remember. He said he did not know
it. “D—— you, sir, blow something.” So he blew up a _quadrille_, and
I began to dance. I thought Hallifax would have laughed till he died.
What a burlesque upon our school of war!
Grahamstown, 16th March, 1835.
When I came flying down from Fort Willshire the other day it was, as
you may suppose, for the purpose of inducing my master to get under
weigh and not to mind a Kafir and a half, which Col. Somerset’s
_arrangements_ with nearly 3000 men were going to catch. Master and
I very nearly fell out. In his string of operations in last week’s
paper, signed by Kitty Dutton, my attack on the enemy’s position was
left out. After some little jaw, he said he thought it too bold a
thing to attempt with the force under my command, so I bristled up
and said, “Rely upon it, whenever I hear of a Kafir, so soon will I
be at him with whatever force I can collect. This is the way to treat
so contemptible an enemy, although too much caution cannot be adopted
to prevent a surprise, or too much activity used in following up any
advantage obtained. This, sir, is my maxim, and one which shall guide
me throughout the campaign.” “Oh, it is a very proper feeling, but
_discretion_ is also to be observed.”
I have at last spurred him into a move, and I hope we shall get on and
bring things to a close, for I am really tired of this slow work. I
want to be at Charlie’s Hope again.
17th March.
The 72nd Regiment marched yesterday for the camp at Fort Willshire,
and the whole of the troops will be in motion, I hope, to-morrow to
concentrate. Sir Benjamin has given out a General Order appointing me
to command the 1st Division.
1st Division: 100 of the Cape Corps, 40 Corps of Guides, two
6-pounders, 300 Swellendam Burghers, the whole of the 72nd Regiment,
the 1st Provisional Battalion of Hottentots, 430 strong. Officered by
H. Peddie.
2nd Division, 2 guns, 750 Burghers, 200 Cape Corps, Lieut.-Col.
Somerset.
3rd Division: 250 Burghers, 50 Cape Corps, two 3-pounders, 2nd
Provisional Battalion, 374 strong (an excellent body of men), Major
Cox.
4th Division: 500 Burghers, Field Commandant Van Wyk. The troops will
thus advance—
Left. Left-Centre. Centre. Right.
Van Wyk. Major Cox. Me myself and Col. Somerset.
Sir Slow as far
as he goes.
Lieut.-Col. England is to command the ordinary Frontier Posts and
Grahamstown and has 1800 men, just 100 more than I had when I took
the command here, re-established villages and posts which had been
so shamefully abandoned, and invaded Kafirland with 450 men, so that
I think the 2nd line may be considered safe and no necessity for any
panic. But really it is astonishing to see how they funk.
His Excellency has just sent for me, good old man, to say he is not
pleased with his General Order of yesterday appointing me to the
command of the Division. He says it cramps my power, so he has put
in orders that I am to be second in command, continuing my duties as
Chief of the Staff, by which means I can order everybody about like
himself. It also gives old Peddie a command, which I am very glad of.
18th March.
In this stupid little room in which I am writing, I think rather too
much of an old faithful woman at Charlie’s Hope, but as I hope soon
to lick Tyalie, I hope soon to be with her. But my hair has grown
grey. I think, if it progresses as heretofore, I shall have a white
top altogether. Not quite so bad as that either! But it is grey. Oh,
I should like at this moment to ride into the dear little square! I
can hear your voice when I left you on the 1st January, as plainly
as possible. Do you recollect the glove in the hackney coach in
London?[257] And so it will be again, _alma mia_!
20th March, 8 o’clock.
Don’t be jealous, but my landlady has just sent me a present of half
a dozen of champagne and two stone bottles of curaçoa, rather a treat
to me the latter. The former I will astonish somebody or other with in
the bivouac. Fine campaigning this, is it not?