I have just packed my leave-behind box and remaining papers, got a

canteen of brandy for Paddy Balfour and myself, and ten pounds of

tobacco for my escort, filled the two bags _you_ made with tea and

sugar, put up my knife, fork, and spoon, and thirteen plates into a

leather letter-bag. The tea-kettle is tied to my saddle-bags. We make

_carbonada_ on a forked stick, oh, so good it is! quite different to

what it is when done in a frying-pan: you then stick the one end of

the stick in the ground, whilst the hot meat hisses in your face as

you recline on your karosse _à la Turque_. Very fine. But the old

round table at Charlie’s Hope would do as well!

I really am capitally equipped, and if you were like me, _young_, I

should like to have you with me. God knows but it will be cold before

we get back. This Grahamstown itself is the coldest place in Africa.

The moment you are five miles from it, the climate is much milder. Not

a tree near it, scarcely a bush, and such bleak cold-looking hills you

cannot conceive, as cold as the Pyrenees—where you rather roughed it

than otherwise in the old paved tent. Do you remember when old Billy

Mein, 52nd, used to come and drink with me grog made of very bad rum?

We were not so nice then as to have brandy.

I have desired you have a Grahamstown journal sent you, and I beg you

not to believe more than one-half of the alarming lies that will be

published in it. This place ought to be called “Necessity,” for it is

the mother of invention.

_Adios, alma mia di mi corazon._ You have a good long letter this time.

Enrique.

Camp near Willshire, 25th March.

Up at four; sing out to cook for coffee; “Minni” (sergeant of the

escort), “feed horses”; “Japps, rouse up the escort”; “Up saddle,

camp.” Marched as soon as light into a nice bivouac. I have a most

beautiful bush, and a still better one for His Excellency, and one

between us both for Kittie. Capital breakfast; cows give lots of milk.

Secretaries all at work building me a hut. Twenty men on fatigue

building one for His Excellency, who has not yet arrived.

Nine o’clock. “Escort, up saddle”; “Japps, order Pompey for me and

Minni’s horse for Captain Jervis. We are going to look for a new line

of road.” Return to camp at one, having chalked out my road and sent a

hundred men with Jervis to repair it. Report of five Kafirs prowling

about the camp. Their spoor discovered back over the Keiskamma. Learn

that His Excellency is not to leave Grahamstown for a day or two.

Much mortified; I have built him a noble hut. Have a most capital hut

myself, just completed, and wish _una vieja muger que se llama Juana_

was within it.

Just received a report that some cattle are seen on the other side of

the river. “Japps! a horse and my escort.” “Ah, ah, sir!” Up saddle

and off.

Just come back. I fancy I see some, and send out a patrol of 50 men

under Field-Commandant Lindé, Swellendam Burghers. The finest old

fellow upwards of 70 I ever saw, except my poor old Padre. Just such

a game old fellow as _he_ is. Order dinner. Bruintjes (you must be

acquainted with him); Painter and Minni you know; all these are

occasionally called in my delicate voice. Our conversation is now

beginning. “Well, Bruintjes, what’s for dinner?” “Some skin beef I can

for soup mak.” (“Don’t make such a jaw, men; I can’t hear what my cook

says.”) “Some pampoose too, sar, what master bring from Kafirland.

Leetle onion, sar; a leg mutton for rost, sar; some bock what left

yesterday, sar, what the Boers send master for hash; dat plenty, sar.”

“Yes, by G—d, plenty, Bruintjes. Well, good fellow, mind, coffee ready

directly after dinner, then you shall have your grog. Keep me waiting,

no grog. Japps, what the devil are those loose horses doing here about

my hut?” Japps, in a voice something between thunder and the croak of

a frog, roars out, “Heigh, you d—d Boers! You take way your horse from

Coronel.” The prospect of a good dinner makes me think I am dirty.

“Painter, lay out my dressing things, lots of water, and a clean

shirt.” A glorious splash, the water as cool as possible, the day not

being so hot as yesterday. I think in a day or so it may rain. All the

better for our grass. The cow-boy, “Black Jim.” “Well, Jim, what do

you want?” “Kraal to be made for master’s cows.” “Very well, Jim; but

make a kraal for the calves too.” “Yah, Mynheer.” “Or no grog.” “Yah,

Mynheer.” “Now, be off.”

“Field-Commandant Dreyer wishes to speak with you, sir,” says the

orderly sergeant. “Well, Dreyer, why the devil won’t you come in? What

a ceremonious humbug!” “Coronel was busy write.” “Oh, you be d—d, and

come in sit. Well, vaar is the Kafir?” “I canno say, meinheer. Coronel

must loup into Kafirland.” “How can I, Dreyer? I must wait for the

Governor.” “Well, where is the Governor? He must come; my mans is

tired for ‘nix mak.’”[258] “Can’t help it, Dreyer.”

“Well, Sandford, what do you want? Paddie Balfour, and be whipped to

you, don’t make such a noise. Japps, send this order to Commandants

Lindé and Dreyer.” “Yas, sar.”

Sandford. “Colonel, I want an escort for empty waggons to

Grahamstown.” “How many?” “Twenty-two.” “By Heavens, we shall eat up

all our stores, lying idling here: I will order an escort. Let them

make haste back, and lots of rice and spirits, mind.” “We are getting

very short of beef too, sir.” “Damnation, I hear nothing but bad news.

Orderly, tell Greyling and Nel” (two capital Boers) “to come to me

_immediately_. I will get meat, Sandford. Any more bad news?” “No,

sir, plenty of stores as yet.” “Well, Ford, did you bleed them?” “No,

the camp is very healthy, and the wounded at Fort Willshire are all

doing well.” “Send for Adair. Order an escort for Sandford’s waggons.

Ford, come and dine with me, and be off now, I am busy. Well, Greyling

and Nel, where are the bullocks and sheep?” “I know no tings, sar.”

“The devil you don’t. Be off both of you immediately beyond Fort

Beaufort. Bring me 40,000 sheep.” “Nay, Mynheer.” “Well, go and bring

me as many bullocks and sheep as I shall give you an order for, when

I and the commissary have made our calculations. Here, Andrews” (the

Dutch secretary), “make out passports and authorities for all persons

to aid and assist Greyling and Nel to go to Beaufort for sheep. Well,

sir, what do you want?” (A great fat stupid-looking Boer standing at

the hut door.) “Mynheer, mi vrouw——” “Andrews, what the devil does he

want?” “To go home, sir, or to have his gun mended.” “No, sir” (in a

very low voice); “I want to go to my vrouw, but by G—d I can’t.” “No

more shall you. Go to your camp, and be ready to shoot Kafirs. Here,

bugler, sound the grog-horn.” Then such a hurrah! “Almost dinner-time,

Painter?” “No, sir, only five.” “You are wrong.” “No, sir, I am

right.” “You, sir, why do you contradict me? It is six by my appetite.

Well, Hallifax, what is going on in Fort Willshire?” “Fort Harry, sir,

will be finished in a day or two.” (A little post he has established

as a look-out, and named after me.[259]) “Wounded doing well.” “Are

you going to stay and dine?” “With great pleasure.” “Southey” (captain

of Guides), “let this way-post be sent to Captain Jervis, who knows

where to place it at the turn-off of the new road.” “Well, Bagot, what

is it?” (He commands a battalion of Hottentots.) “Shall I post any

additional sentries to-night?” “_Why?_” “Five Kafirs were about the

camp.” “I care not a —— if 5000 were around my camp. I will post my

own picquets, ah! and sentries too—or vedettes, as I call them; ah!

and take good care of our camp too. Five Kafirs shan’t take us, be

assured.”

Well, old woman, this is a little specimen of one of my days in camp;

so that you may readily conceive what a holiday a ride is. But all

this is good fun enough, compared to the quill-driving in Grahamstown.

* * * * *

What shall I do to-morrow? Think of old Juana. Yes, because I do

nothing else, I believe; although all the fellows wonder what the

devil I am made of. I am here, there, and everywhere. No party do I

ever send out but in two seconds I am amongst them; when they look

grave I sing (_beautifully_, as you know), and the Boers laugh at my

gaiety beyond everything. A young, big, fat Dutchman has just come to

my tent door, saying that he has no blanket, and that it is very wet.

What is he to do? “Go to the devil, and warm yourself, you spoony.

Make a fire, sir, and sing over it. I have given you grog. Why, I

never had a blanket campaigning for ten years. You want pluck, sir. Be

off.” This is the way I go on almost day and night.

Night scene. “Hallo, sentry.” “Sir.” “What the devil are the dogs

making such a noise about?” “Don’t know, sir; they always make a

noise.” “Are the horses right?” “Yes, sir.” “What horse is that,

biting himself so?” “That horse is master’s old horse, what carries

the canteen.” Then sleep. In an hour, “What horses are those I hear

moving?” “Some escort with letters for Coronel.” Out with a lucifer:

light candles. Sometimes the letters are worthy a candle, oftener

cock-and-bull stories. Lie down and sleep again. “Sentry, near

daylight?” “No, sir, moon.” “I wish the dogs were at the devil.”

“Make too plenty noise, sir.” Sleep. Soon after, awake, look at my

watch. “Hallo, bugler, blow the rouse; Japps, feed; Bruintjes, coffee.

Painter!” “Coming, sir!” “Where are the straps to my trousers?” “Under

your ’ead, sir.” “Why, what an ass you are! Leave them in my boots.

You, Jim, where’s the milk?” “Here, Mynheer.” “Balfour, where are

you?” “Coming, sir.” “Why, the shadow in your tent makes you look like

the knave of clubs.”...

_Adios, hija. Tu fiel, fiel_,

Enrique.

Camp on the Debe Flats,

8 o’clock on the night of the 1st April, Tom Fool’s Day.

We are now pretty well collected, and Master is quite ready for

anything. He is really a perfect soldier in the field, and to hear him

laugh when I blow up the fellows in Dutch (that is, _my_ Dutch)! But

his delight is to dine and breakfast with me, particularly the latter.

Our breakfast to-day was really perfection.

I have some excellent guides to all the passes in the ridge of hills

which we are going to stir up to look for cattle. This Kafir war is

nothing else than that. Read of Walter Scott’s Borderers, and you will

learn what Kafir warfare is:

“He would ride

A foray on the Scottish side.”

It is just that. You gallop in, and half by force, half by stratagem,

pounce upon them wherever you can find them; frighten their

wives, burn their homes, lift their cattle, and return home quite

_triumphant_.

4th April.

Last night at eight o’clock, on our return from a march of twenty-two

hours, I received your dear letter. Yesterday I roared myself into

one of my Vittoria lost voices,[260] and to-day I am whispering and

swearing exclusively for my own amusement, for no one hears me. Old

Doyle says I am still in advance in the talking way, and could afford

a year’s silence at least. Murray is sitting with me; he is my great

friend. Your description of your robbery and the “cuchillo”[261] is

highly amusing. I ought to publish it in this army, and show what a

Spanish woman dare, for, by heavens! here I have some arrant cowards.

The Boers of the old Commandos talk of the glories of former times,

when the Kafirs had only assagais. But now that they have a few guns,

which they use very badly, Mynheer funks. There are, however, some

very fine fellows amongst them.

Quite delighted to hear of the “Green Jacket” getting on the windows.

We want very much some “Green Jackets”[262] here, for this warfare

has all—nay! more than all—the fatigue of any other without the real

excitement of war. Oh! the noise of the devils of captured cattle.

Above a thousand head of cows and calves are now roaring in our ears.

Headquarters, Camp on the Debe, 5th April, 1835.

Our Hottentots are the most willing fellows possible. I call them my

children, and all their little complaints, wants, and grievances they

lay before me, which I listen to most patiently, for I exact a deal

of work from them.... I will send off a warning order to the troops

to march to-morrow at daylight. I always like to give the fellows all

the warning I can. _Arrangements_, as His old Excellency calls them,

are leather and prunella; for though he writes them beautifully, and

in the most military and technical terms, there is not a soul in this

camp who understands what he means; so that the pith of the matter

is contained in the words, “March at daylight to-morrow, Monday, the

6th instant, commissariat and other waggons following column.” There

it is, and all hands understand that it takes just two hours for our

commissariat train to arrive, from the moving off of the first waggon

to the arrival of the last, when the road is good. You may, therefore,

General Juana, conceive what it must be when there is any serious

obstacle to pass. It is really quite ridiculous to see the proportion

of soldiers to the waggons; for when stretched out on the road, each

with eight bullocks, it looks as if each soldier had one waggon at

least. You, General Juana, accustomed only to regular armies (except a

few guerrillas or so), would laugh to see our motley group, with every

costume of a mean kind which can be imagined,—the Boer with his old

white slouch hat, his long gun, his miserable saddle and bridle; the

Hottentots with a little low-crowned hat, black jacket and trousers;

the 72nd’s men with crackers,[263] their pipe-clayed belts left

behind, and a little ordinary pouch substituted for the large one,

wearing a forage cap with a large red leather peak, which makes every

man look exactly as if he had sore eyes; old Dutton strutting about

the camp in the paraphernalia of a Kafir chieftain’s wife.

Camp on the Buffalo, daylight or nearly so,

Friday, 10th April, 1835.

The Third Division, under Jem Cox, and the Fourth Division are going

to remain here to hunt the rebel chiefs, while the First and Second

and Headquarters go on to Hintza to bring back the captured cattle. I

hope twelve days may see us back here again.

Bivouac on the Gunga Rivulet, six miles from the

Gonoube River, 4 p.m., 11th April, 1835.

I am writing on my knees, the table not having arrived in the

waggon just yet, in a most beautiful bivouac on the banks of a

woody streamlet with beautiful water, and grass up to the knees. We

have marched twenty miles from the Buffalo upon the main road into

Kafirland over very open country without seeing anything but some

Kafir cranes, two khorans, and three partridges. Lots of kraals, but

all have been deserted for some time.

I am half afraid Master is only to go to the Gonoube to-morrow—six

miles—and halt the next day. Such slow work is quite dreadful.

Last night I had a regular fight with him. He funked dividing the

army—nay, actually gave it up for all I could say or do. I was

perfectly mortified. However, in the middle of the night he changed

his mind, and I had it all my own way. He is far too scientific for

this guerrilla warfare, always full of combinations and reserves, and

rears, and fronts, and cautions and dangers, and false movements, and

doubts and fears. The greatest fault one can be guilty of is dash. Yet

it is _the thing_, and there is nothing to fear.

I wish you were with me just now. The tent is all pitched, my table

up, the rushes laid down, all my clothes put inside (as it looks as if

a heavy dew were going to fall), a large heap of beautiful dry wood

laid ready to light at daylight. The soup has been on at least two

hours. Our dinner, I hope, will be good, for _me_ most certainly, for

all I care about is soup with rice, and I eat such a lot, about five

times as much as when with my dear old woman. We get also a lot of

beautiful pumpkins from the Kafirs’ gardens, which help the soup, and

we boil it with our rice. To-day, had there been time, we should have

had a hare, which one of the men brought me yesterday; which I ordered

to be stewed with rice and a piece of ham (Viva España!). But then we

ought to have had _un poco de aceyte y una cabeza de ajos_.[264]... I

wonder how I write Spanish. Do you understand it or not? I get on just

as fast with it as English, anyhow; and if you do not understand, ’tis

you who have forgot your own language, and not I how to write it.

6 o’clock, evening. 12th.

No ladies or any cattle brought in to-day, but I think we are running

the whole population to earth on the Kei. There are great marks or

spoors of innumerable cattle having been driven towards it. This

should be our _boundary_. It is as bare of wood as the fens in my

country, or even your country, scarcely covert for a hare, much less

for the wily Kafir, whom I look upon just as a wild beast and try to

hunt him as such. I little thought that the pains I took to make a

huntsman of myself would hereafter befit me for a general of renown

in Kafir warfare. But so it is. “Right ahead” and a “forward cast”

will soon ensure you “Woo-hoop,” or as you call it “Oo-oop.” (Don’t

“queeze” me, it is very “estraordinary,” you always do so.)

I hope that you may hear from me every week. I do my best to ensure

it, and as yet I trust you have not been disappointed. If you are, be

assured it cannot be helped. The distance is so enormous, and the odd

devils we have to send as escorts with the mails do not, like regular

soldiers, enable one to say that it will arrive on such an hour on

such a day. The Hottentots are to be trusted, poor fellows; but the

Boers are too fond of sleeping. Although I get on famously with them,

I have no _particular_ opinion of their pluck, and always have about

me my twelve men with double-barrelled guns, my escort, with old

Japps, whose very holloa! would frighten a Kafir if his shot did not.

Twelve more plucky fellows I never saw, and they watch me like hawks.

If I move, they are after me and all round me, and every night mount

sentry over me. If I whisper, Japps hears me. My bugler is no great

hand as a musician, but the gamest fellow I ever saw (I am my own

trumpeter, _n’est-ce pas, ma femme_?); but all our fighting is now

over. It is quite an affair of Smithfield Market now, or will be in a

few days.

Daylight on the 13th April.

We were all ready to march, when Master sent for me, and because

Somerset’s division is not up yet, has ordered a halt. I remonstrated,

but it was of no use. He became touchy, talked of principal

combination, military errors, etc. So I dropped the matter, as I

always find it best to do at the moment, and renew it hereafter. Upon

the whole, we are doing very well, but I fear he does not think so.

He has been disappointed in not fighting a general action; which is a

thing as likely to occur as that, _if_ such were the case, the Kafirs

would beat us.

They are in terrible dismay. Last night (for always two or three of

them creep near us), the wind being favourable and the night very

still, my Kafir guide sitting by the fire distinctly heard one call to

another, “Ah, ah, the troops are come, and we shall be all killed.” In

my tent I heard their howl. I will indulge in another wash, although

it cannot wash away the stain of this day’s delay.

A nice cool morning, and I hope the day may be so too, for we have no

shade. Not that I care about it; my hands are as black as my face, and

that is the colour of dear little Moira’s nozzle, and my head about as

gray as her nose. A big Dutchman just put me in half a rage. He came

for a bullock skin. I gave him the order on the commissary, and the

brute said he did not know where or who the commissary was. Now surely

it was right to blow up such a fellow? I have improved in my Dutch

wonderfully, almost as much as your dear Spanish figure has progressed

towards the Dutch.

This lost day is a bore. I shall be tired of it _all_ soon. Indeed,

the little excitement there was in the warfare has subsided, now

that we have no enemy and I cannot make my little patrols. I have

no ambition to be a Smithfield Market drover. We will make Hintza’s

Kafirs drive our cattle back, and guard it too. As I have before told

you, it is wonderful how these devils can make the cattle go, when

they are ever so tired. I feel delay more than ever, but a light

heart (which thank God I possess) keeps me the most lively fellow in

the camp. All the fellows in camp rejoice in me, thank God, and the

soldiers would go to the devil for me. I feed them well. Two of the

wounded fellows passed me yesterday, those with assagai wounds who

had been with Murray. “Well, my boys, how are you?” “Oh, quite well,

sir.” “Ah, it is me who gets you into such scrapes.” “We will soon be

ready to fight under your honour again with all our hearts and souls.”

Halting-day, 13th April (continued).

We are just going to take a ride—Master, me, and escort—upon the

road to the Kei, with some of our guides. And then such questions as

he will ask these fellows, who are as ignorant of what he wants to

come at as possible—the name of this hill, and the other, the source

of this river, and that t’yaron, sometimes with impatience. But the

dear old gentleman sets down all this to the credit of science and

information, and thinks my guerrilla ideas are far too wild. To-day

he said, “In your view of the case there is no combination. All is

trusted to a blind succession of chances.” So I bristled up and said,

“General, war in itself is a succession of chances, like all other

games. But science must be its basis, and the great science of war is

to adapt its principles to the enemy you have to contend with and the

nature of the country. If you do not, you give _him_ so many chances

of the game.” This rather posed him. “Oh, certainly, I do not deny

that. On the contrary, I agree with it.” I did not like to push him

any further, for the great danger I have to avoid is that of assuming

towards him a dictatorial manner; and God knows my manner is _brusque_

enough, soften it down as I will. I am obliged sometimes to speak out;

but I do so with every endeavour to avoid hurting his feelings.

14th April, 4 o’clock in the afternoon.

Just arrived from a march. We have taken a Fingo, a Kafir of an

inferior order, who has given us very important information. He states

that Hintza has all the Colonial cattle collected and ready to restore

to us, and that he is within two days’ march of us at his residence

near the missionary station of Butterworth. I ought to have told you

where we are: which is, as the crow flies, within six miles of the

Kei, but twelve miles by the waggon road. The bed of the river is

very evident, and the country now most beautiful again, intersected

with ravines on a minor scale like those of the Pyrenees, beautifully

studded with gardens, and with pumpkins innumerable.

15 April, 4 o’clock in the morning.

Just received a beautiful letter from Master, which put me in great

alarm—full of very military reasons why our march to-day should be

delayed, and begging me to come to him that we might discuss it. So

off I started from my barrack-sheets and karosse, and after a little

preamble I found him much more easily turned into my path than I

expected. So we start to-day at seven. The enemy is so disheartened

now, that I think if you were here with your female attendants and

that large knife, with a red cloak on, the sable foe would fly before

you.

“Now, Paddy Balfour, you ugly beast with your moustaches, pour out the

coffee, and be d——d to you.”

“Battle over, sleep in clover;

Who so happy as we in camp?”

I am in great spirits this morning at having overcome the delay. “Up

saddle.”

6 o’clock, 15th April.

This day has turned out much more auspicious than my utmost desire

anticipated. I told you in the morning I was in high spirits, because

Master consented to march down to the Kei. So I took care to be long

before my time on horseback at his tent, with the advanced guard and

my escort. He said with his usual politeness, “Pray, do not wait for

me, Smith. Go on.” The hint was quite enough. It was all I wanted,

and off I set in as fast a shuffle as I could keep the cavalry horses

in, down to the river (about 11 miles). We could observe the tops of

the hills (almost mountains) on the other side covered with Kafirs.

The more there were, the more I pushed on. On my arrival at the ford,

I was challenged from the opposite side by “Hallo, English, do you

know what river this is? This is Hintza’s country. What do you want

here?” I halted my troops, and made my Kafir desire one of them to lay

down his arms and to come down to the river to speak to me. They were

dreadfully frightened, but at last one laid down his assagai and by

degrees in about an hour approached my Kafir. I told him to say that

we were come to make Hintza give an answer to our former demand; that

we would enter their country for the present as friends. All depended

upon themselves and Hintza whether or not we were afterwards enemies.

During our conference we were joined by His Excellency, who highly

approved of what I was doing. I went close to our side of the river—my

Kafir sitting in the middle, Hintza’s Kafir on the opposite side—and

had a long jaw,[265] which ended in our entering Hintza’s country

for the moment as friends, and sending off for him. But no Kafir was

to come near us with an assagai. The Kafir was a clever fellow, and

wanted me to name a place to meet Hintza. I told him Hintza should

have been on the river to meet the Governor, and we should march on

until Hintza came. His Excellency was satisfied, so I said, “Now, sir,

let us cross immediately.” He was full of two or three little doubts,

fears, military precautions, when I could stand it no longer, and

roared out, “Mount!” “Now, General,” I said, “I will cross, and you

will see every fellow fly before me. Then pray send the whole army on.”

It was as I said. The fellow with whom I had the parley came up to me

on my ascent from the river and told me he would desire the people

to keep out of my way and would lead me wherever I might like to go.

He is a most civil, athletic savage, 6 feet 3 inches high. He is

now sitting with me, having eaten half a sheep, and his manner is

really very fine. He liked my gingered tea exceedingly, but could

not bear brandy. We have just had a visit from three of Hintza’s

councillors. He himself is in the upper country. We have told them

what I have before stated, and they are to send off for their king

immediately. They promised fairly, and seemed terribly frightened when

we threatened them with Fakoo in their rear.

I can talk Kafir wonderfully—_Asapā_, “come here”; _A Bāmbā_,

“good-bye”; _Ekwee_, “yes”. Now that is a great deal to learn in one

day, besides crossing a river and getting over a flock of _sheep_

rather than _soldiers_, pleasing a master, writing nonsense to an

“auld wife,” and orders for the camp, blowing up fifty people at

least, shaking hands with some fifty Kafirs, and giving them tobacco,

and a breakfast to two of them, who were highly delighted. The

graceful air and gentlemanlike manner in which they thank you is

really astonishing. No French marquis of the _ancien régime_ could

exceed their bow and expression of countenance. The knowledge they

have, too, of passing events is totally surprising. They are perfect

politicians, and talk to me of the general policy of our countries.

4 o’clock, 16 April.

On the road to Butterworth, Hintza’s residence.

Gona Camp, 7 miles over the Kei.

Hallifax, who literally loves me, has made a fort, which he and

Bingham—the impudent rascals!—call Fort Harry, just above Fort

Willshire; and last night they sent me a copy of a drawing they have

made of it, and which I send to you. It is a very useful little work,

I assure you, and must be admired by you because its name is Harry.

[Illustration:

FORT-HARRY.

Hallifax et Bingham fecit]

Old Pato has just arrived with the waggons and one of his chiefs,

come, he said, to learn _the news_. He has sent a message to his

cousin Hintza. Old Pato says Hintza is a _great chief_. We must

wait patiently with him, and give him time. He is a _great chief_.

So I told him, great or small, if he or a messenger from him were

not in to-morrow, I would be at his people immediately. At this old

Pato and his captain laughed fit to kill themselves. They are two

monkey-faced rascals, but they are dressed like Dutchmen, and really

very well-behaved fellows. _Adios por el momento._

17th April, 4 o’clock in the afternoon.

After rather an uninteresting march, the country being very

monotonous, here we are in the most beautiful and highly cultivated

valley, close to Hintza’s residence and immediately in front of the

missionary institution of Butterworth, formerly occupied by Mr.

Ayliff, but now abandoned. We breakfasted in a nice little ravine

with good water and visits innumerable from the Fingoes, whose

cattle are grazing all around us, giving the air of harmony, peace,

and confidence. These Fingoes are a race of men formerly dispersed

by Dingaan’s tribe. They took refuge in Kafirland, and are but ill

treated and little looked upon by the Kafirs. They are exceedingly

inclined to befriend us, and if Mr. Hintza is not what I know he will

be, we will arm all these Fingoes and use them as an instrument of

vengeance against their oppressors. They are a fine athletic set of

fellows.

Master is very communicative to me, and, I am vain enough to think,

takes my advice, but it is difficult to advise. My mind is not enough

awake to the subject. When the responsibility is mine, my versatile

disposition turns the subject in a thousand ways, and at daylight

a bright ray of intellect has heretofore been kind enough to say,

“Enrique, do so-and-so.” It is really astonishing when I reflect upon

my late career; everything has occurred to me as if by inspiration.

All my little successes have flashed across my mind in an instant, and

have been to the utmost of my power as instantly put into execution.

Midday, Saturday 18th.

One of Hintza’s principal councillors, who came to us the first day,

has just come in with a long tail, and claims an audience. He is a

little shrewd-looking old fellow with a tiger-skin karosse, and brings

as a present and token of good faith and amity a bullock.

We have given him a saddle and bridle, and oh, the delight of the

fellow! Thirty-five are sitting round me, having thrown off their

karosses, as naked as they were born, one, a great orator, holding

forth to the honour of the British nation—I dare say a great humbug;

however, we can humbug too. I have just given all of the councillor’s

tail a piece of tobacco, and his orator a tinder-box; also to two a

knife apiece, and oh, such kissing of hands! He says Hintza will be

here to-night or to-morrow.

_7 o’clock._—Oh, it has just begun to lighten tremendously, and the

thunder rolls ten thousand cannon. Such vivid lightning I scarcely

ever saw, like a blue light at sea, and lasting almost as long.

Heavens, what a storm! I must shut up my desk. Good God, how it blows

and rains and lightens! The candle is almost flapped out with the

walls of the tent; I will finish this page though, if possible, rain

or no rain. Viva Mr. Hintza’s country! You are a changeable fellow,

hot and cold, wet and dry, light and dark in a moment. Blow, rain,

thunder, lighten, but pray let me write to my poor old wife, for I

can’t go to my bed yet, the rain so spatters through my tent.

Evening of the 19th, Sunday.

About 2000 Fingo captains have come in to say they must return into

the colony with their wives and families, which will be granted them,

so that I shall have a pretty increase of my cares. These are, as I

have before told you, real game fellows, and, supported by my best of

Hottentots, will drive more cattle out of the kloofs on the bed of the

Kei in one day than we could in a week. It will be a measure of great

policy, too, to bring with us a settlement of people so well disposed

towards us and place them upon our new frontier. They appear to be of

a much more docile nature than the wild Kafir, whose head is mischief

and heart deceit.

I therefore hope to see them and their families comfortably located

on a good ground and their huts built before winter, and hereafter

they must be taught to build cottages. I feel convinced that nothing

would tend to the civilization of these poor people more than domestic

comfort in a nice cottage in place of lying all together like dogs in

a kennel.... Good-night, my soul, my love, my wife.

Enrique.

9 o’clock at night, 19th April.

I have just received a deputation of _royal blood_. The look-out

officer reported to me that about one hundred Kafirs were coming

towards the camp in a friendly manner and without assagais, so off I

started with my orderlies to meet them, making sure they were from

Hintza. On my approach I halted them, and desired one to come out,

when out came a tiger-karosse man. He said he was the captain, Kuba,

come to pay his respects to the Governor, and asked the _news_, which

is their mode of wishing to know whether we are friends or foes. I

told him that four of his people might come with him, and I would then

conduct him to the Governor. The Governor told them the news was with

Hintza. This was all they could get from him, but he was very civil.

We encamp in a very curious way—not as in the Peninsula, the General

some distance from the camp. We are all in a square, the troops

outside, the General and staff and all the commissariat and oxen and

waggons within. Sentries outside of the whole.

I have just returned from poor old Master, who now is _very kind_ to

me, and treats me with the most marked attention. He said, “Well, have

you sent the sketch of yourself to Mrs. Smith?” “Oh yes.” “Do you know

what Michell says?” “No, sir.” “Why, that if he could get you to stand

still for one minute, he could make a perfect likeness of you.” “By

God, sir, I have not time to stand still.” “I believe you,” said the

old boy; “you have not stood still;” and he shook my hand.

20th April.

I have just ordered Bruintjes to bring me a camp-kettle lid full of

embers, and now am quite warm. Such a cold day as this would put me in

a fever about you, were you here, lest you should get cold, lest you

should not have all you want. For years now (that horrid thing, Time!)

you have been accustomed to luxury. When I was first _troubled_ with

you, you were a little, wiry, violent, ill-tempered, loving, always

faithful, little devil, and kept your word to a degree which at your

age and for your sex was as remarkable as meritorious. How often have

I admired you for it! Had it not been for your own good sense and

faith to me, I should not have had my dearest love as a young woman,

nor an old Boba to whom to pour out the feelings of an affectionate

heart. But please Almighty God, I shall have this old woman with me,

until we both dwindle to our mother earth. And when the awful time

comes, grant we go together at the same moment!

It is time we changed our camp. This delightful valley, so beautiful

in its crops of Indian and Kafir corn, the hills around, so

luxuriantly clothed with grass, are all now eaten off or trod down

by the innumerable bullocks, horses, and animals we have with us,

and bear the countenance of what you have so often seen—war and

devastation. When we march to a fresh bivouac, all is again green and

gay.

“Battle over, sleep in clover;

Who so happy as we in camp?”

Answer, “Enrique with his Juana at Charlie’s Hope.” Oh, I must tell

you of the compliment the Kafirs paid me the other day by calling me a

_beauty_! They yesterday, after looking at my feet in my brown boots,

asked the interpreter where I put my toes, and then like great baboons

they laughed at their own wit, so that we all turned to and laughed

also.

The soldiers were very much amused yesterday with me, when

cross-questioning one of the Hottentot deserters. I asked his name,

which was—what do you think?—Henri Smith! By Jupiter, how the fellows

laughed! However, I had my jaw too by saying, “All Smiths are sharp,

active-looking fellows, and so is our deserter rascal.”

I am glad to see those rogues leave the Kafirs. Nothing disheartens

the brutes so much as the supposition that you know what they are

doing. They will, on account of it—we are given to understand—change

their plans even. It is just so with a wild beast (you were a

sportswoman once, you know, dearest). Head a wolf, fox, hare, any

_bête de chasse_, and it will change its whole plan of escape

immediately. So it is with the Kafir.

10 o’clock, 20th April.

Somerset’s division, or rather the _débris_ of it, has just arrived

in twos and threes, forty times worse than the army of Burgos was in

the pig-shooting days which you witnessed. This is the way in which it

has marched these three days. To-morrow His Excellency inspects this

division (what a name for it!), and I will answer for it we will still

muster a few horses fit to do something.

23rd April, daylight.

My fifty Fingoes just coming in like Trojans. I have ordered each

3 pounds of meat. Upon my word, I never saw anything so fine as

my fifty Fingoes, all with their assagais and their shields, and

singing as they marched along, all aroused as if the blood of their

forefathers was flowing through their veins, when their nation was

independent and important amongst the other savages. They then gave

me a war-whoop, and jumped, and then sang again most melodiously in a

deep sonorous voice, with a most harmonious bass. Nothing villainous

in their countenances, but full of heroism and fine feeling.

_9 at night._—Oh, such a Johnny Raw as old John Bell sent up to us

to-day, young ——! The General did not know what the devil to do with

him, and sent for me. I soon appointed him a Volunteer to the 1st

Provisional Battalion, and as he had neither tea, sugar, coffee, nor

brandy, he was a pleasant fellow to join a half-starved officers’

mess. I set him up with 2 lbs. tea, 4 lbs. sugar, 4 lbs. coffee, and

a canteen of brandy, with this good advice: “Be broad awake, sir, and

learn to speak quick.” I was very near telling him to get his hair

cut. Tell dear old John to send us no more such trash.

Bivouac on the T’solo, a small stream running into the T’somo,

which runs into the Kei, 30th April, 1835.

Viva Enrique!

Mi Queridissima Muger,

Since the 24th, I have not been able to talk with you, and in these

six days your old man has worked wonders. _Hintza dined with me

yesterday, and is my son._

On the morning of the 24th instant, His Excellency having waited nine

days for a communication from Hintza and none arriving, proclaimed

hostilities to a chief named Kuba (Lynx-eyes), and fired a gun in

great ceremony. Knowing pretty well that nothing but the most vigorous

and indefatigable exertions would bring this fickle chief to terms, I

had a little bit of an army of both divisions told off for me, with

which I immediately commenced operations, the results of which are

detailed in the accompanying two letters. With them I send my dear old

woman a copy of the General Order on the subject.

On the afternoon of yesterday, on my return, His Excellency, who was

most highly delighted at my success, informed me that on the 27th and

the 28th, he had received communications from Hintza, but he had

refused to treat with any one but himself. “Right, sir,” says I, “by

G—d.” He continued, “This afternoon you will see him himself, or I am

the most deceived of men.” (However, I held in readiness a detachment

of fresh troops to march against Boku at two o’clock in the morning on

a fresh venture.)

About four our picquets reported a body of horsemen coming in. We

sent out Beresford to meet it, and in rode the _Great Chief_, a very

good-looking fellow, and his face, though black, the very image of

poor dear George IV. He seemed perfectly satisfied of his safety among

us, and acted majesty with great dignity, though nearly naked like the

rest. He said to the Governor that he was ready to proceed to business.

His Excellency, therefore, read sentence by sentence a long story

of grievances, which our interpreter _spoke_. Hintza paid great

attention, occasionally made a remark, and when it came to the terms

on which we would make peace, he sighed two or three times; then gave

a toss of his head and said he would consider of them.

I asked him to dine with me. He and one of his councillors came,

and you would have laughed to have seen us all. He fed himself very

well, ate enormously, drank only water, but lots of coffee, with

pounds of sugar in each cup. After dinner he began politics. I soon

saw he was for coming to terms. He said he looked upon me as his

_Father_. I therefore soon cleared my tent of all but myself, the

Interpreter, Hintza, and one of his councillors. In deep whispers

he proceeded to talk over the present state of affairs, pointed out

the insubordination of many of the chiefs under him, and, to make a

long story short, we swore eternal amity and friendship and privately

concluded peace on _our_ terms. The whole was to be publicly ratified

in the morning.

I stuck to my _son_, turned out all the troops, and assembled all the

officers. The Governor appeared at their head, I and Hintza and his

councillors opposite. I having pledged myself to be his patron and

answer to the Governor for his fidelity (which highly pleased him), he

then ratified all the conditions of our treaty and shook hands with

the Governor and with me.

I then said, “Now let it be proclaimed far and near that the Great

Chief Hintza has concluded a peace with the Great King of England, and

let the cannon fire.”

Three guns were loaded and fired in succession accordingly. Hintza

was delighted. All our prisoners had been released. We had a capital

breakfast together, and soon after gave him his presents. I never

saw a creature so delighted. He swears by me. The main points of our

treaty are these (there are several minor ones)—that he shall within

five days give up 25,000 head of cattle and 500 horses, and that this

day twelvemonth he shall pay 25,000 more and 500 more horses. He is to

place two hostages in our hands for the fulfilment of his treaty, but

as to hostages, he says, “Why, I will remain with you myself.” He is

to order the rebel chiefs to submit, and to consider our enemies his.

I am quite amused with the fellow. Now, old woman, I give myself more

credit for my negotiations than anything else, and God knows I have

been the humble instrument for concluding this arduous and laborious

war most satisfactorily. I have followed the enemy everywhere, driven

him out of every den, captured 25,000 head of cattle in all, and

concluded an honourable peace. The poor Excellency is most delighted.

The labour I have encountered from the morning of the 24th to the

afternoon of the 30th has astonished everybody, nay, even myself. It

is nearly equal to my ride up from Cape Town.

Hintza’s son is just come in, a very fine young man about nineteen or

twenty. I am to have the honour of his company at dinner, with that

of his papa, my son.... Oh, to-day my heart was full to overflowing!

I had taken prisoner the brother of a chief called Chopo. I told

him yesterday that he or his brother must pay 500 bullocks for his

ransom. Then he said, “My liberty is a hopeless case”; and he sighed

and looked so melancholy, I quite pitied him. He was a very handsome,

nice youth. After peace was proclaimed, I sent for him and liberated

him, and I declare he made such demonstrations of real gratitude, that

the poor savage saw a tear steal down my cheek. I could not help it.

Poor fellow, how delighted I was to have it in my power to confer the

great boon of liberty on a poor fellow-creature!—almost a reward for

my labour, I declare.

To-morrow we begin to turn our heads towards home, but we must wait

for the cattle. Hintza has sent in all directions for it, and it is to

be here in five days from to-morrow’s sun.

How you would laugh to see me walking about the camp with Hintza

leaning on my arm!

Four o’clock, 30th April.

What do you think has been my occupation for this last half-hour? One

very much in my way. Stringing a large necklace of glass beads for

young Hintza. I have just hung it round his neck in three rows.

1st May.

Just four months to-day since I left you, dearest. What a time it does

appear! Good heavens! four years at least.

There never were such game fellows as these Hottentots. The other

night in the Kei, after a terrific march, when we got up to the enemy,

I halloed them on like a pack of hounds, and, upon my word, they flew

past me through the bush like buffaloes, making everything crack

before them.

Only fancy, my dear old woman, what must have been my five days’ late

campaign. I never shaved from the 24th to the evening of the 29th, nor

did I ever comb my hair. My toothbrush my only luxury. I changed my

pantaloons because in a cattle hunt the mimosa bushes literally tore

them off. The difficulty of obtaining information where anything is

going on occupies every moment one has off horseback. One of the days

I was out, Paddy Balfour—meaning well, God knows—sent my led horses

with the infantry, and at night I had the gratification to find myself

25 miles from them. We had lots of cattle, but killing and eating

two hours after dark is rather a bore. Luckily, one of the men gave

me a bit of tongue—no salt nor biscuit, but I was delighted with it.

Next morning, on joining the infantry, having had no cup of coffee, I

was so hungry, by heavens! I could have bit a piece out of my wife’s

shoulder, when one of the escort hauled out of a dirty haversack a

bone of a goat, which he had already had a gnaw at. So I turned to at

that, and gnawed it as greedily as little Moira seizes everything out

of one’s hand. However, after joining my horses, I had a real good

breakfast, and we then marched 25 miles over mountains steeper than

the Pyrenees, and the weather down in the Amava was exceedingly hot.

However, we have overcome all difficulties.

8 o’clock in the evening, 1st May.

I have written a very long letter to dear old John Bell. I wish I

could let him be behind the scenes in one of my councils with the

chief. Such rascals as they are, trying to overreach you. My delight

is for a long time to keep playing with them, as though thoughtlessly

about to concede their request, then suddenly to turn round when they

least expect it, show them what they are aiming at, and then say,

“No, decidedly not. A man never changes ‘the word.’ It is written—the

cannons have fired.” This figurative and metaphorical mode of speech

they are very fond of. I carry on all our negotiations in this way,

until it comes to the point. Then I disrobe the question and put it

in plain matter-of-fact language. Altogether it is good fun for the

moment, but I can see that as these rascals are bereft of their fears

they will become troublesome and try every shift in their power.

We expect Thomson up daily. Master and he will have a long ride or

two—I think to decide on eligible spots for a line of posts along the

Kei. It is decided we take possession of all this country; but as yet

we have not touched upon it to Hintza, to whom it matters but little,

as we take possession of no territory belonging to him personally, but

of a large portion of his brother Boku’s. There does not appear to be

any particular love between the two.

2nd May, 5 o’clock.

Just going to send His Majesty his coffee. I sent him one cup

yesterday morning, and asked if he would have any more He said, “Oh

yes; I have a large belly.”

_Later._—On the march to-day met Boku coming in with 20 cattle—all the

Colonial cattle he has, the villain.

We had a great scene in camp to-night. There are about 150 followers

of these chiefs in camp, and some of them have been murdering the

poor wretches of Fingoes, who have placed themselves under our

protection. So His Excellency got very naturally irate and blew them

up considerably. After to-day’s march I recommended that all their

assagais should be given up. By way of intimidation Hintza said his

people would throw them. So I said I was delighted. I went in amongst

them and ordered them to lay down their assagais. They began to untie

them and really get ready to throw. So I laughed like the devil, and

in a voice like thunder ordered the picquet of thirty men standing

with their left flanks towards them about fifty yards off to wheel up

to its left, which brought their front immediately opposite the group

of Kafirs, at the same time ordering my corps of Guides to file round

their rear. The cowards were electrified, and immediately roared out,

“Oh, we will give them up! we will give them up!” and in two minutes

they were collected. I then went in amongst them with tobacco, and oh,

such fun as I had throwing it in amongst them and making them scramble

for it!

Hintza, who is really gentlemanlike in his manner, his brother Boku,

another brother, and Kreili—Hintza’s son—dined with me. And I made

them laugh too, although at first they pretended to be rather sulky

at their men’s arms being taken away. I allowed the chiefs to retain

theirs.

Cox reports that Tyalie, etc., are in a state of the most miserable

alarm. He cannot get near any of them. They are flying about in small

parties, literally afraid for their lives.

3rd May, 10 at night.

My son Hintza and I have been at loggerheads very much this afternoon.

I let him alone all day, although I could see he was doing nothing

nor intending to do anything. At 4 o’clock I summoned him, Boku, and

their great councillor Umtini to a talk, and demanded that the two

messengers should go to Tyalie and Macomo. They struggled in every

possible way. I stormed with the Articles of Treaty in my hand,

marched down an additional picquet, doubled the sentries, and then

said, “Hintza, my son, I am pledged to the Governor for your faith,

and my head is likely to be cut off for your infidelity, so that if

you do not fulfil every tittle of the Articles of Peace, we will carry

you, Hintza, Boku, Vadana, and your son Kreili, with us into the

Colony and keep you until the good faith we have expected from you be

extracted by force.”

You never saw fellows more astonished. I then made Hintza and his

great councillor Umtini come and dine with me. Hintza and he at first

were awfully dull, but ate a good dinner. I had six sentries around my

tent. After dinner I cleared it of all but the Interpreter, and then

said, “Now we will have a talk, and I will again ‘give you the word.’”

The sentries were told off, and when I said, “Are you there?” every

man was to roar out, “Yes, sir.”

We parted friends, he in a funk, his followers all disarmed. I marched

him down to his tent with ten sentries. Ninety men of the 72nd

Regiment are round him, and every minute I make them sing out “All

right! All right!” from sentry to sentry. En la moda Española, “Sentre

alerte? Alerte soy.”

Poor devils! If Hintza had been educated and had lived among

well-disposed Christians, he would have been a very fine fellow. I

like him and Umtini, but I hate all the rest except young Kreili, his

son, who is a very nice modest youth.

4th May. Monday morning, daylight.

Did I tell you that last night Hintza said he had rather at once

pay the 50,000 head than half in a year? To this I agreed. I have

therefore promised Hintza that if in five suns more he brings us the

whole of our demand, I will return him 5000 bullocks and 100 horses.

Probably this may act upon him, for he will certainly keep them for

himself.

6 o’clock, 4th May.

My Royal Son has grown particularly modest or _cold_, for he asked me

to give him a pair of pantaloons. I gave him two. His delight when you

give him anything is quite “estraordinary.”

Oh! to-day the uncle of Maquay came in to see me. He says (literally)

his heart is full to me for my kindness when I might have taken his

life. All his wives thank me, and he will never cease to love me. When

he went away, he held my hand, kissed it, and bid me good-bye, wishing

me all the cattle in the world! A fine manly-looking fellow. When

he was quite out of sight, I sent for him back and made him several

presents. His gratitude almost overflowed. I let him go first to see

if he came in the hope of getting something, but no, it was pure

gratitude. One can scarcely consider such a being a savage. If so, he

had better remain in his present state.

Poor devils! these little opportunities of kindness make me very happy

for the moment. It is hardly fair so to frighten them, but without it

nothing can possibly be done with them.

I was perfectly satisfied with the message sent to-day to Tyalie

and Macomo. I summoned Hintza and all the royal personages into my

presence and desired them to send their message to the rebels. Hintza

told Boku to speak. He did so very slowly and impressively to the

purport I wished.

5th May, an hour before daylight.

They trumped up a tale in the camp last night that the Kafirs were

going to make an attempt that night to rescue their chiefs, by help of

a body without. I laughed at it most heartily, but as Master placed

much credit in it as a likely thing to occur (very likely!), why, to

please him I took the necessary precautions, as he terms it. Amongst

others, I desired Captain Murray of the 72nd, should the attempt be

made, to go in very quietly to Hintza’s and Boku’s tent and put them

to death, but not to do so until there was a probability of a rescue;

so their escape was pretty well provided for, I think.

All is quiet, however, as I ventured to anticipate, contrary to the

opinion of all other persons, or nearly so, in camp; but they none of

them have been quite so often on outlying picquet as _you_ have been,

or accustomed to the little constant services of danger on which I

have been for a number of years. (What a conceited old rascal you are,

Mr. Enrique!)

This is the 5th sun; now for the faith of my son. I expect some of the

25,000 head, but not all, because I know he has not had time to fetch

it since the Peace, so far off had he driven it.

Oh, how all that delay at Grahamstown has altered everything! It

might have been all over a month ago, the farmers in their homes, the

families who had suffered from the invasion in possession of cattle

and roofing their houses or rebuilding them; land apportioned to those

who wished for it in the new boundary; every Kafir tribe dreading the

name of an Englishman from the rapidity as well as force with which he

strikes; thousands of pounds saved to our country; and last, but by no

means least, I at home with my dearest faithful wife.

_2 o’clock._—I have just given out the order of march for the 1st and

2nd Divisions for to-morrow, the 6th; the latter to cross the Kei,

and continue its march back to the Colony with the captured cattle,

Fingoes, etc., and all the impedimenta; the first division to move

into the camp just on this side of the Kei, where we halted and

bivouacked the first day after we crossed.

My tent just filled with Dutchmen come to bid me good-bye. They all

march to-morrow, thank Heaven. I do pity them; but if ever Job had

had to deal with them, I feel satisfied he would not have acquired

his character for patience. I am liked by them, however, and,

notwithstanding the many rowings I have given them, am glad to part

friends with all that are good for anything.

_Afternoon._—The poor Boers keep coming in to bid me good-bye, and

with all their hearts. God knows, it is with all my heart I say

good-bye. I would never attempt to learn Dutch now. Such is my horror

of the language, a bevy of beautiful maidens could not tempt me into a

Dutch parley.

_9 at night._—The Clarksbury party have at last arrived—lots of

parsons; and we march to-morrow towards the Kei.

Boku was to have brought 600 head of cattle in to-day for the murder

of Purcell and Armstrong. His messengers came after dark, bringing in

nineteen head. So I sent Paddy Balfour to kick them out of camp, and

the Interpreter to Boku to say I had done so.

_Later._—I have just given Kili, or Kreili, a necklace for his mother.

The youth was quite delighted. You cannot conceive a more handsome

half-black fellow. He has such a gentlemanlike figure. At first I

thought he wanted intellect, but to-day I find it is nothing but

modesty. We were talking of the Kei and the rivers which fall into

it, when he became quite eloquent, and described the great river,

its source, and tributary streams far better than his father or the

prime minister. My Royal guests were in great spirits indeed. Hintza

talked much about his fifteen queens. They have increased five lately.

At first he acknowledged to only ten. He says he loves them much. He

never ceases to think of them, when I do not bring out the long paper.

He is always horrified at the long paper. I told him to-night we were

going to cross the Kei to-morrow. He said, “Very well; I am doing all

I can about the cattle, but I, like others, must have time. I cannot

perform impossibilities. The cattle are so far off, they could not be

here within the five suns.”

Morning of the 6th.

The day has turned out so wet, I have been obliged to countermand

the march of the two Divisions. The roads here are so steep and so

slippery in descending and ascending to and from the Kei, they are

totally impassable to the waggons. Therefore discretion says “halt,”

and patience says “the devil.”

If you were to see how Paddy Balfour works for me now, how he tries to

have all my things about me right and comfortable! And in the field he

is a very useful and a proper plucky fellow, and _now_ knows something

about his business, as do a very few more of them—ignorant enough at

first, but all, all, most ready and willing to learn. They fly to

obey, nay, even anticipate my wishes. Thank God! I never wish to serve

with a nicer set of fellows.

How it does rain! Well, a fine day to-morrow. How it used to rain in

the Pyrenees, _ti acordas, mi pobrecita_?[266] Oh, how I pitied you

some days, although I never said so! But the most varmint thing you

ever did was to get on your horse that cold day and ride to Mont de

Marsan to return the poor kind woman her bridal basin.[267] No person

on earth but you would have done that.

I do not think I told you that in one of his notes to me Master

expressed a wish that I would move Cox’s 3rd Division from the

immediate vicinity of the enemy, that is, from the Amatola to

Brownlee’s missionary station on the Buffalo, at the point where the

high-road crosses into Kafirland. I said, “What is the object, sir?”

“Oh,” he says, “then the army will be concentrated.” “Sir,” I said,

“the sole object I have aimed at and studied is to send the troops in

every direction in detachments strong enough to protect themselves,

because such is the practice of the enemy. I have never yet sent

out any detachment that they did not do something, either take some

cattle or a horse or shoot a Kafir or two.” So he said, “Very well,

let the 3rd Division remain where it is.” However, to please him, I

have sent 300 of Van Wyk’s 4th Division there, because it does not

matter whether they are there or in any other place, they are so sick

of the war, although they have done much and good service and are real

game and plucky fellows. So by agreeing in trifles, as I told you, I

succeed in getting the essentials as I like.

Ah! all this is very fine, but I am naturally so lazy a fellow I long

to be back again. I do not mind the fox-hunting part of it, but the

dry official writing is awful.

Hija, I have just thought of a very nice amusement for you, and

one which would be very probably hereafter useful to me. Copy in a

book everything descriptive of what we have done, my scenes with my

followers, my descriptions of the war, Kafir chiefs, policy, etc., in

short, everything but my _touterias_.[268] The rest I will some day

publish in the life and adventures of Harry and Jenny Smith.

7th May.

This wet weather does put me in mind of the Pyrenees—that cold camp

we had on the very top of them, when our tent was floored with large

cold stones, the only time I ever smoked a little, when you made me a

little paper segar, and tea, too, to drink with it.

It is so cold, too; however, cold or no cold, in future, if I campaign

again in a friend’s country, my Juana must be of the party; I cannot

again be separated. But in this savage warfare, it would have been

folly, nay, the height of cruelty, to have brought you.

_Half-past 12._—Hang the rain! it has begun again as hard as ever.

Oh, how I see you now, I think, at Government House in your fancy

dress, your dearest shape so divulged, _aquella gracia Española_, the

remembrance of our youthful days and what you have gone through for

me, brought back by the costume; all the room admiring you and your

dress, and in that room one heart in which the universal admiration is

concentrated, because he knows that love of a woman is his own, and

knows what others do not—the qualities of her mind, the generosity of

her heart, the superiority of her character, void of all littleness,

the strength of mind of a noble-hearted man, the soft feelings and

affection of the most delicate of her sex!—

“Yet are Spain’s maids no race of Amazons,

But framed for all the witching arts of love.”

I see you sitting thus dressed at dinner. How I watch you sometimes

when I see you animated, your dear full bosom heaving, your eyes

flashing fire, whilst with a heart of innocence and joy you are

recounting some of our old campaigning stories, and the listeners

wonder that a creature so delicately framed could have endured such

awful fatigue and for one unworthy of her! Oh, God bless her!

_5 o’clock._—My master has just sent me a confidential communication

which in the strictest confidence I impart to my own soul for _her_,

_her_ sacred ear alone. It is a copy of his ultimate treaty of peace

with Hintza when the latter has fulfilled the engagements of his

former treaty; a copy, that is to say, of his proclamation declaring

the territory conquered up to the Kei to belong to his Britannic

Majesty, including the territory beyond the T’somo. That is, the new

boundary-line of this colony is to extend to the sea, up the Kei,

following the course of the T’somo to the Stormberg. It will include a

most magnificent track of country, I assure you.

The whole is framed upon various conversations which I have had with

him.

I have just sent for Umtini, and have desired him to tell Hintza that

as two days have passed beyond the time named in the Treaty and he has

done next to nothing to fulfil it, he, his son, Boku and Vadana with

their retinue, are our prisoners-of-war, and that we now demand the

50,000 cattle and the 1000 horses before he is liberated. Umtini began

a parley, but as usual I took hold of the Treaty of Peace, thumped it

and gave him “the word,” then assumed the civil and asked him what he

wanted. He said, a sheep, some biscuit, and some tobacco. We shook

hands, and so we parted.

9 o’clock at night.

Just done dinner. We had Major White there, the Assistant

Quartermaster-General, a very excellent fellow, very fond of me and

argument. I never argue except with old Johnstone, but White, Murray,

and Beresford had plenty to say, laying down the law about everything.

These kind of conversations make one laugh sometimes, but oh! how I

do hate man’s society; the same monotonous ideas day after day. Give

me strong exercise all day and lots of women to talk with at dinner,

and then to my own home with _my own_. But times alter, and so do I.

Give me my own fireside, my own wife, my dogs, my horses, my domestic

happiness, and let me alone.

Just finished a very long and laborious report for His Excellency,

with comments upon his ideas of the new frontier line its defence,

and the force to be kept in the field for the purpose of driving the

hostile tribes, even though they make peace with us, across the Kei.

Near us they cannot stay. I differ very little in a general point

of view from my Master, but he is for not occupying a post nearer

than thirty miles to the Kei, I am for occupying a more advanced

one, within ten or eleven miles of it, and patrolling frequently up

to it. There is a degree of weakness which I am averse to avow in

proclaiming an extensive territory as ours, and not placing a soldier

upon it within thirty miles of the boundary. These posts will be all

fortified so as to prevent any aggression on the part of the enemy,

and a moderate time after the proclamation I would shoot every Kafir

not authorized to remain in our territory.

Head Quarters, east of the Kei, 8th May, 1835.

Now, my dearest old companion, comes the tug of war!

As I expected, but dare not previously say so, I am to be kept upon

the frontier, Heaven knows how long! My Head Quarters are to be on the

Buffalo, where there was a nice house, a missionary station. It has

been burned, but as the walls stand it may soon be made habitable.

Come to the welcoming arms of your faithful husband!

9th May.

On the Kei, ready to cross to-morrow, when a great ceremony will be

performed, in proclaiming our conquered territory. The new boundary is

to be the Kei. This is better than the T’somo, as the T’somo runs far

too much in Hintza’s country.

How I long to get to the Buffalo, to see where and how I shall build

our house! Williams of the Engineers is ordered up with Sappers, etc.,

and that is to be his first occupation. We are going to found a town

there, to be called William’s Town; but this is a secret.

I fear this cunning rogue, Hintza, will give us some trouble ere we

get the cattle. He is a shuffling scoundrel. I am making him go with

me to-day on a bit of a tour. He says he can get the cattle if I can

help.

God bless you, dearest woman; the pleasure I think on, dream on, is

in some degree banished by a knowledge of the fatigue which you must

undergo. God bless you! But when we meet we will forget all, and then,

in light marching order, once more we will go together, together

everywhere. As the old man campaigns so well, why should not the old

woman?

Enrique.

Fort Smith, 18th May, 1835.

On the right bank of the Kei, about seven miles from it.

Viva Enrique!

This is the 9th day, and I have not sent a word to my dear old wife.

The hand of the Almighty God has been again upon me. Since I last

wrote to you from the other bank of the Kei, I have made one of the

most extraordinary marches ever made by troops, but I enclose a copy

of my despatch.

One day (Mr. Hintza’s, the scoundrel) was an awful one, I assure you.

What with hunting him, and taking the cattle at night, I was rather

done, I admit; but I had some mutton chops and coffee, and in an hour

was fit again for a night’s march. At three o’clock did I again set

off on a venture. Though it was not successful as to bullocks, it had

a fine political effect, that in three days from the bed of the Kei, a

British force was in sight of the bed of the Umtata, etc.

Oh! if I could but describe the countenance of Hintza when I seized

him by the throat and he was in the act of falling. A devil could

not have breathed more liquid flame. I shall never forget it. I have

his bracelets for you, and, what is more, the assagai he sent flying

after me, as also his bundle. The pains I took to conciliate and

treat kindly that savage! A pack of fox-hounds would have followed me

all over the world with a half of it, but such blackguards as these

fellows are, cannot be described. They are the most determined and

practised liars in the universe.

We do not march till the day after to-morrow, for all I can say and

do. But being now within the Colony, it is quite ridiculous how much

at home we feel. I had a long letter from Cox to-day. He has had an

interview with Tyalie and Macomo, who are anxious for peace. I know

not what they will think of our having taken possession of their

country.

Poor man! what a loss Major White is to us all! He lived with me, poor

fellow, and we were mutually much attached. I have told him a thousand

times what would occur. I even on one occasion forbad his going with

me, only he promised so faithfully to stay with the column. He is

universally regretted.

19th May.

This day at 12 o’clock we liberated Kreili, Vadana, his uncle,

Sotoo, a councillor, and Nomsa, a councillor, and Piet Chingele, a

half-Hottentot villain—Kreili having agreed to fulfil his father’s

treaty of peace.

We march to-morrow, leaving Warden with eighty Kat River Legion,

one officer and twenty men, Cape Mounted Rifles, eighty of the 72nd

Regiment, and one howitzer.

This is the advanced post of my command, and forty-eight miles from my

Head Quarters, the Buffalo or William’s Town.

20th May.

Marched from the Kei, and arrived and bivouacked on the Gonoube Hill,

above the river of that name, at three o’clock, and immediately

chalked out a redoubt to contain fifty men; Lester, 72nd Regiment, to

command.

21st May.

All the troops at work at daylight finishing the redoubt, which is

named Fort Wellington.

May 23rd, Buffalo River, and our winter quarters, which

is to be called King William’s Town.

The house, as I think I have before stated, has been burnt, but the

walls and the chimneys are standing. We will soon, therefore, put a

roof on to it, and it will be a snug little box enough. There is a

capital garden full of fruit trees, young and flourishing peaches,

apricots, plums, apples, pears, some vines; very rich land, and ground

enough to grow quantities of Indian and Kafir corn.

The site for the town is beautiful. The main road will run through it,

and the river also. It will be perfectly magnificent.

The poor old Governor is so kind to-day. At dinner I asked Thomson

where we could get rafters for the house. “Oh, we must cut them where

we can.” “No,” says Master, “let the dimensions be immediately taken

and I will send off express to Grahamstown for them.” I felt this more

than anything, because I often talk to him about you, and he saw I was

pleased. He is a wonderfully good-hearted man, and wants nothing but a

little more nerve.

I will soon have up more soldiers. We are generally to have here about

1200 men. I only hope so many will not be assembled as to induce

Government to send out a Major-General to supersede me.

King William’s Town, 26th May, 1835.

The old Master is all kindness to me. When he speaks of the new

province, he always calls it “Your province.” I shall also have the

command of the whole of the frontier from Algoa Bay to the Kei, or I

would not stay.

8 o’clock at night, 27th May.

Had a most beautiful ride to-day, and took 17 head of cattle. Two

milch cows, worthy a place in my dairy, have been placed there, and

two, less valuable, have been discarded. I have named three places—one

“Kempt’s Valley,” another “Barnard’s Vale” and “Ford,” a third “Hotham

Hill.” I follow the bed of the Buffalo upwards to my estate. The road,

which _will_ be good, but is now a path, took us up to my estate

and Murray Castle, where formerly I took 5000 head of cattle and on

this occasion the present few. We crossed the river three times, all

good fords but one, the stream most clear and beautiful, and each

succeeding valley more calculated than the former for a village or

a farm or anything. It is certainly a most beautiful country, this

Province of Queen Adelaide.

King William’s Town, 7th June, 1835.

My own queridissima Muger,

I returned to Head Quarters last night after a foray of eleven days,

during which I have again, thank God, rendered my country very

essential service and the enemy considerable loss....

I mention all this to you to show how rejoiced I must have been on my

return, after such hard labour, to receive your _queridissima carta_,

telling me you were on the road, since the 4th June, Thursday.

11th of June, 8 o’clock at night.

His Excellency started very early this morning for Grahamstown. I have

sent off Paddy Balfour to meet you, and my trusty ensign Low, with 20

of my most faithful Hottentots to accompany you, and never to quit

your waggon. Paddy will also turn out 20 cavalry.

15th June.

I have had 30 men at work all day, and all the Artillery, poor

fellows. The delight with which they do anything for me is quite

amusing and gratifying, but I rather think all their labours are to

please _you_, for I heard them talking of your nice house at Cape

Town, and then to come and live _here_ in a tent! The Scotchmen said

it was “an awfu’ change,” and they all rubbed, and swept, and laughed,

and I jawed, and gave them a glass to drink your health.

22nd June, midday.

Last night I would not write, hoping that by trying not to think quite

so much of you I should not dream, and kick about so, and this morning

I had so much to do I could not, but nothing would do. Oh, such nights

as I pass! I really believe the sentry thinks I am mad, such questions

I ask him. To-day it is raining like the deuce, so I am conjuring

up flowing rivers again and 5000 impediments. How in the name of

wonder did you get on when I was away from you? You had nothing to

do. I to-day have plenty, but I can settle to nothing, and I am so

irritable, I am quite ashamed of myself. I feel satisfied Balfour has

reached you. This is a consolation to me, for I know he will exert

himself, and take the greatest care of you, and he has been with me

now long enough to learn how to overcome difficulties. God grant I may

hear from Balfour to-day, and that to-morrow I may meet you at Fort

Willshire.

24th June.

Surely this day we shall meet. Oh, such a night as I have had! I could

neither sleep, nor toss about, nor dream, nor anything, but lie and

listen, hoping every moment to hear the footsteps of horses crossing

the ford, bringing me letters from you and Balfour, saying when—oh,

when!—I was to be at Fort Willshire. Oh, such a merit as I make of

it, when people ask me if they may go to fetch their wives! “D—— it,

sir, I cannot go for my own,” although, poor fellows, I do so long

to say, “Yes, you shall have leave.” But it must not be. There is

plenty here for every one to do yet, and for more too if we had them.

I imagine your itinerary: the 18th, Uitenhage; 19th, Quagga Flats;

20th, Grahamstown; 21st, halt; 22nd, Hermanus Kraal; 23rd, Willshire;

24th——. Oh, dare I hope it, my own dearest, that this night I shall

receive thee?

APPENDIX V.

Address of Colonel Smith to the Caffer Chiefs, 7th January, 1836.

Having closely applied myself to become thoroughly acquainted with

your wants, I have now lived long enough amongst you, my children, to

observe them.

Field Commandants, Field Cornets, and Heads of Kraals—the Laws of

our Country are rules established by the authority of its King, or

Governor, and his Councillors, to direct the conduct and secure the

rights of its inhabitants. You have all lately been received, at your

own request and humble desire, and in the mercy of his Excellency

the Governor, as British subjects, consequently are now governed

by the British law, which, widely differing from your own, will

require on my part some explanation, in order to point out to you

the necessary procedure in cases where the interpretation of the

Law, and its coercive power, is required. Having been placed over

you by his Excellency the Governor as your Ruler since the day peace

was concluded, and as he holds me strictly responsible to him to see

justice duly administered to all—that the Laws are neither outraged,

nor individuals oppressed or ill-used—so have I, since that period,

as you all well know, watched over your rights and interests, for

your benefit, so to govern you that gradually you might become so

accustomed to our manner of proceeding, as to enable you to observe

the impartiality with which the Law is enforced, falling equally heavy

upon those who are its aggressors, rich or poor, black or white, and

equally protecting all. I have therefore called together this large

assembly, personally to explain to you, to the best of my ability, the

mode you are to adopt as Magistrates, when crime is brought under your

observation, in conjunction with the British Resident.

Whoever it was among you who first suggested the idea of your becoming

British subjects, deserves to be marked by you as a man who has

rendered you the most eminent service. Did not your great father,

Gaika, on his death-bed, assemble his sons around him and with his

dying breath tell them to hold fast the word of peace with the English?

This you did not do: what ensued? You were almost utterly destroyed,

soon would have been annihilated, and driven from your native country;

your women and children were starving, almost the prey of wild beasts,

and the widows of 4000 of your warriors lament their husbands slain

during the war; the greater part of your cattle starved or taken; your

plunder, so treacherously seized from the Colony, lost to you from

the robberies of others; you were in a lamentable, nay, a deplorable

plight; you sought and asked for mercy—it was granted you. You also

begged to be received as British subjects; this has been granted you,

and you are _now_ the subjects of the most powerful nation, whose

laws, manners, customs, and institutions are the wonder of the world.

This was your state when I took you “out of the bush,” since which

three moons have barely passed over your heads; land has been given

you, your gardens are flourishing; your clergymen are returned to you,

hoping to forget your sins in observing your penitence; a trade is

established for you; your persons and property are protected by the

equity of the British law—no man can now be “eat up,” unless found

guilty of crime, and condemned by your judges; and in place of being

the beaten, the degraded, humbled, mortified people you were in the

bush, you are taken by the hand, and called “brother” by the greatest

nation under the protection of Almighty God. You tell me that you are

naked and ignorant, that I must teach you to clothe yourselves, to know

good from evil, that you are willing to learn, and that you wish to be

real Englishmen. Mark me, then. Years ago the English were as naked as

you, and ignorant as you, as cruel as you were in the late war; but

the bright day which has opened upon you, dawned upon them; they first

learnt to believe in the omnipotent power of Almighty God, who judges

every man according to his actions; worshipped, honoured, and obeyed

Him; they loved their neighbours as themselves, and respecting their

property, ceased to be thieves; they believed all that the ministers

of God told them; they sent their children to be taught to read and

write; they learnt the use of money, and carried on an honest trade

with each other, selling their skins, etc., and buying clothes as you

see us all now dressed. Some were labourers in the field, some tended

the herds and flocks, some made implements of husbandry, built houses,

made arms, and every other thing you see your brother-Englishmen

possess; while others made laws to govern the whole, under the King,

whom we all love. Thus civilization gradually advanced, while we became

acquainted with the works of art; knowledge increased, we threw off

the yoke of despotism and barbarism, cast away our vicious habits, and

put to death or banished by the Law every one who by sin, crime, and

wickedness was a pest and an enemy to society at large. Do you suppose

that we have all these things by lying sleeping all day long under a

bush? No; but by habits of daily industry, working as you see me do,

and all the people around me, each day becoming wiser than the other:

and by avoiding the evils of yesterday, striving to improve ourselves

to-day. Such now may be your case, provided you cease to do the

following things:—

I. First, to “eat up” one another. This is theft.

II. To murder or kill any one.

III. To believe in witchcraft. This is all folly and ignorance of the

worst description. Did not Eno’s “rain-maker” desire you to go to war,

and encourage you by telling you that you would beat the English, the

greatest nation in the world, whose power exceeds yours as much as the

waters of the Keiskamma do the pools of the Penla rivulet? How dare

the villain tell you such lies? Was he not the first man shot when the

troops moved on Eno’s kraal, after I came amongst you, and was then as

much your bitter enemy as I am now your true friend?

IV. Perjury, or giving false witness against any one.

V. Setting houses on fire, and destroying property.

VI. Rape. And above all (having this day taken the oath of allegiance)—

VII. Treason, or lifting up your hand against the King, the Governor,

his officers, magistrates, soldiers, and subjects.

The British Law punishes these crimes with death; by avoiding them we

have become the great, powerful, and enlightened and happy nation you

see, going about the world teaching others to imitate us, and we are

now instructing you. Do you wish to be real Englishmen, or to be naked,

and almost wild men? Speak, I say, that I may know your hearts.

* * * * *

You have spoken well; your brothers will assist you. This day has

his Excellency the Governor clothed your Chief Magistrates and Field

Cornets according to their rank, to show you how England expects

her subjects to appear. From this time henceforth no more presents

of clothes will be given you; by trade (as we do) you must clothe

yourselves, and look no more to me for presents but for some important

and good service rendered to the State. Such I will reward, because

his Excellency the Governor loves to reward merit. Since you have been

under my protection the oldest men tell me there has been less crime

than they ever knew: but this, though it pleases me, does not satisfy

me. There shall be no stealing, one from the other; above all, from

the King—or, as you would term it, the Great Kraal—the Governor or

his people. Beware, I say, of theft, and as I protect you, so will I

punish you, until the Law, by the rigour with which I will wield it,

shall root out this evil from amongst you. Our clergymen will teach you

what God expects from you, what you must do to expect God’s mercy and

love in the next world: thus you will all learn to love God. You may

send your children to school, or you are wicked and base parents; and

by your good example and speaking the truth, teach them what they may

become with the advantages of an education, which you have not, and

could not receive. Above all, do not despair or despond, or say, “We

are poor people; we know nothing.” Rouse yourselves: remember what I

have told you, that the English were once as you now are, and that you

may become what they are at present.

In the great change of laws by which you are now governed, one of the

most important is that of not tolerating your being “eaten up.” Now,

this protects the weak; the strong from time immemorial possessed

amongst you this power, which custom made a right of the Chief, though

it was a curse to you: do not therefore suppose that the English Law

while it protects one part injures the other. No, such is not the case;

your Chiefs who from custom possessed this power by which their kraals

were filled with cattle, and by which they were enabled to reward those

who performed good service, must, your merciful and provident Governor

says, receive an equivalent; besides, being now your magistrates, much

of their time and attention will be taken up for your advantage. You

must therefore contribute to their support and dignity.

A regulation is now framing that each kraal pay so many cattle or

calves in the hundred annually to each other [each chief?] on the day

the ox is paid to the King of England for the land which you possess,

and which he had conquered from you. No time will be lost in carrying

this arrangement into effect. Thus you see, Macomo, Tyalie, Umhala,

and the others of your kindred who from birth possess rights and

privileges, you will be hereafter amply provided for.

To the heads of kraals and villages do I now address myself.

You are responsible for the good conduct of the people of your village;

if you exert yourselves and do your duty, crime will be checked and

ultimately stopped. No man ought to be absent without your knowledge.

No man can return with cattle or horses without your knowing it, and

whenever a crime shall have been committed by a kraal, I will make the

whole responsible to me, if they do not produce the offenders and the

stolen property. You shall leave off this wicked practice of stealing

from one another in the way you do; the English Law will make honest

men of you—you shall not steal.

You must see that your people are active and industrious, that they

work in the garden; it is the duty of men to work in the fields, not of

women; they ought to make and mend your clothes and their own, and to

keep the children clean, wash your clothes, cook your food, and take

care of the milk. You well know from observation what work the English

do, and what their women; this you must imitate, and not sleep half

your time and pass the rest in drowsy inactivity; these things you must

do, and you will soon reap the fruits of your labour.

Magistrates and all assembled! As you wish to be real Englishmen, you

must observe their manners and customs in everything; and as you are

rapidly ceasing to believe in witchcraft, and at the death of any of

your friends and relatives (an affliction to which we are all liable)

beginning to omit the witch-dance and the burning your huts and

clothes, so do I now call upon you to bury your dead, as you see we

do, and not drag out the corpse ere the vital spark is extinct, and

cast it forth for food for wild beasts and birds of prey—the thought,

even, makes a Christian and a civilized man shudder. To the first man

who has the misfortune to lose one of his relatives, if he decently

inter him, will I give an ox. How can you bear to see those whom in

life you loved and cherished—your aged father, who taught you your

manly exercises and provided you with food; your mother, who nursed you

as a child, who attended you in your sickness, who for years watched

over you, contributing to your wants or wishes; your brother, sister,

nearest relation and dearest friends, dragged from amongst you ere

dead, and thrown out to the dog? We English not only make coffins to

bury our dead, but raise upon the spot where our dearest friends’

earthly remains are deposited, monuments to perpetuate their virtues;

and when wicked men whose lives have been forfeited to the offended

laws of our country for any of the crimes which I have enumerated to

you are buried (for we even bury them also), such spot is marked with

the ignominy it deserves; and our youth, as they pass the tomb of the

good man, have an example of the respect due to virtue set before them;

or are taught to abhor the crime which merited an ignominious death by

the wretched mound which marks the sinner’s grave. Thus as you loved

your relatives in life, so you are bound to cherish their memory, and

deposit their mortal remains in their parent earth. Englishmen not only

do this, but the clergyman prays over the grave, and these matters of

moment connected with the immortality of your souls the missionaries

will teach you when you attend Divine worship. But _your dead you must

bury_, as I point out, if you wish to be real Christians and Englishmen.

At this great meeting let me impress upon you, that all previous

animosities among yourselves be forgotten, and while the great English

nation now regard you as British subjects and brothers, love your

neighbours as yourself, fear God, honour your King, and the Governor,

his representative.

APPENDIX VI.

Extracts from Sir Harry Smith’s Letters from India, to his Sister, Mrs

Sargant.

Loodhiana, 12th Feb. 1842.

You must excuse, dear Alice, my referring you to Sir James’s letter

for information as to the tragedy of Cabool, but my labours now are

great. He sent me such a character to give Lord Ellenborough. I had

also a very handsome letter from dear Lord Fitzroy Somerset, saying

his son was with Lord E., and he would thank me “to instil into him

some of that chivalrous and gallant spirit which has been your guide

in your military career.”

Juana unites with me in love to you all, dearest sister, and if I am

actively employed you shall not have cause to accuse me of a want of

energy, pluck, or decision, with a jealousy of time, that thing of all

others in war for which all great generals have been remarkable. “Time

is everything in War,” says Wellington, and daily experience verifies

it.

Harry.

I suppose you started, like a half-broken horse, when I told you I was

driving four-in-hand. You will start again, I hope, when I say after

having had the use of it since I have been in India, having driven

it from point to point seven hundred and two miles of good roads and

bad, I have sold it for £700. It is gone as a present to Shere Singh,

King of the Punjaub at Lahore, the son and successor of old Runjeet.

There’s a bit of luck for you!

Simla, 3rd June, 1842.

My dearest Alice,

On the 24th May I received your letters of 31st March and 6th April.

And while you wrote them full of that excitement and ardour for the

fame of your country and the ambitious honour of your brother, he

was quietly pruning rose-water trees, training jessamine, lopping

forest trees, and improving his _ways_, like Cincinnatus, with this

exception, I fear—that in his case, there is no chance of being drawn

from his retreat into activity and the service of his country.

It rejoices me to see the vigour with which the people of England

always meet disaster and rush to its reparation with heart, hand, and

pocket.

_I am of the War Party._ Money will overcome every difficulty,

expended with economy and supported by energy and activity.

My Lord E. is _now_ of a pacific turn, and, as I told you last month,

our troops are ordered to withdraw.

Simla, July 1, 1842.

This L[ord] you have sent us as a Moghul, by the powers, he is an

arbitrary boy, and veers about like a weather-cock. Maybe a wonderful

scholar, but, rest assured, unless he materially changes,——. “The wind

bloweth where it listeth,” but terrestrial rulers must be guided by

locomotive principles slower than steam-coaches.

Poor dear old Father! my heart aches when I think what age reduces us

to. I inherit many of his noble ideas as to courage, I hope. His has

been a wonderful career of strength both of mind and body. We unite in

love to all. God bless you, dear Alice.

Harry.

Simla, 7th Sept. 1842.

The great Lord arrived yesterday. The Staff and Commander-in-Chief

were ordered to his Lordship’s own house to receive him. I was the

only person introduced. He came up in a most ready manner, shook

hands, and said, “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, General

Smith. I have heard a great deal about you indeed.” I was very near

laughing and saying, “I hope no _harm_,” but as Great Moghul he is our

king. He is a wild fellow, depend on it. His A.D.C.’s are all great

friends of mine. I hear his Lordship prides himself on his _military

ability_. It is more than my note and its continuation[269] are

inclined to do. Oh, the grievous procedure since November last!

Simla, 15th Oct. 1842.

You will rejoice to learn that Lord E. has taken a great fancy to me

and treats me quite as an old friend. Upon the receipt of any news of

importance he will run down to my house to tell me or write a note.

I have had frequent long conversations with his Lordship. He has a

perfect knowledge of the affairs and state of India and the mode to

preserve it, and, although he jumps to very rapid conclusions, they

are usually just and accurate, therefore cease to be classed as errors.

I have done two or three military things for him with which he was

highly satisfied, and in the military shows and spectacles he proposes

for our camp at Ferozepore upon the return of the army at the Indus

and the reception of the monarch of Lahore, Shere Singh, his Lordship

tells me I must be prepared to assist him.

... Once more adieu, dear sister. How I long once more to visit

my native land! What a period of banishment has mine been! Out of

thirty-seven years’ service, I have only been six in Great Britain,

five of that in Scotland.

Ferozepore, 15th December, 1842.

My Dear Alice,

It is not often I complain of a want of time, but I may venture this

mail to do so, such humbug, as well as serious matters, am I engaged

in. Our Moghul is non-compos, as sure as eggs are the produce of

fowls, with all his pomp and trash, to meet an army of imaginary

victors.

Loodhiana, 17th Jan. 1843.

Our Moghul is mad, undoubtedly—a species of military madness, of

pomp, ceremony, renown, and it is incredible to what an extent of

frenzied excitement he has worked himself up. Among other acts of

extraordinary folly, so at enmity with the cause of Christ and so

calculated to sow discord between Hindoos and Mussulmans, is his

dragging these old portals about called the Gates of Somnauth, a

temple which _once_ existed, but is now a Moslem ruin. He conjured

up in his imagination that Hindoos would flock in myriads from every

quarter of pagan India to sacrifice at the holy shrine of these

memorable portals, whereas not a votary of Brahma ever, even out of

curiosity, came to look at them, their history being obsolete among an

ignorant people. Mussulmans are indignant at this attempt to degrade

them in the eyes of those whom their swords subdued, and the holy

Cross of Christ stands appalled, while all Christians shudder at this

sacrilegious attempt to perpetuate the barbarities of Paganism by

contributing towards its maintenance. The attempt has, however, been

as futile as monstrous. Our course is not one to sow discord amongst

those we have conquered.

Our united love to poor old Father and you all.

Harry.

Simla, June, 1843.

My dearest Alice,

The state of poor dear Father from your description is melancholy

indeed. “Yet is their strength then but labour and sorrow.” Poor old

man! an iron though never over-robust frame has enabled you to endure

much, to struggle against difficulties, to contend with excitement,

and to bear great bodily exertion. God’s will be done! All things must

end, and our only prayer ought now to be, however painful the blow we

must anticipate, “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace.”

And we must add, “Almighty and most merciful Father, grant that he may

receive Thy salvation.” “Beats the strong heart, the less the lips

avow.” Heaven bless him!

Our m—d Moghul has started from Agra to Calcutta by order, we hear, of

the Court of Directors. He therefore may be regarded as _en route_ to

Downing Street to encore his “song of triumph.” He is a fickle fellow,

but has told me twenty times, “The moment I am not fully supported

from home, I go.” He was always very kind to me.

Allahabad, 9th Aug. 1843.

A wish was expressed by Sir J. Nicolls, as also by Sir H. Gough, that

I should proceed to meet the latter in Calcutta. In three days after

the receipt of this wish, I and Juana started dâk, as it is called;

that is, in a wooden box, a palanquin, somewhat like a giant sailor’s

trunk, borne on the shoulders of four men by a pole projecting fore

and aft, with four other men to relieve them, eight to each palanquin.

The eight men are again relieved at about ten-mile stages. The pace is

not rail-road; it averages three and a half miles per hour.

The heat we endured until we reached Delhi cannot be described. After

that we got through the greater part of our _day’s_ work by night;

from hence we shall steam it, and complete a journey of 1300 odd miles.

Calcutta, 10th Sept. 1843.

I like my new master much, and with his Irish heart he appears readily

to warm to me. He is very much delighted at my exertion to join,

but I am cruelly worked just now, writing from four o’clock every

morning till dark, then dinners, parties, balls, etc., so that even my

aptitude to labour must fail if our Staff did not relieve me.

18th Jan. 1844, Gwalior.

My dearest Alice,

As I know my welfare is one of your leading stars, I tell you I am all

well, and likely to be decorated with the Star of Gwalior!

Our Chief is a gallant fellow, but no genius as a tactician on

strategic principles, but he licked the foe and took every gun (56),

right well served and every gunner bayoneted at his gun; while the

Division under General Grey on the same day beat the enemy opposed to

him, several miles distant from us, and took every gun he had (25).

The devils before us had the most pluck, though, by far.

You had a brother and two nephews in the field. Hugh’s[270] regiment

was the most distinguished with General Grey. Indeed, theirs was the

brunt of the battle, and the youth behaved nobly, all his comrades

say. Harry’s[271] corps was but little engaged, yet I saw the boy

looking as cool as his usual placidity renders him. I had a most

narrow escape. A cannon-shot contused my right leg and carried away my

stirrup and leather, passing under the horse’s chest. The force of the

ball against the stirrup nearly threw the horse on his side. I thought

my leg was smashed, so benumbed was it, but it was not cut. I never

got off, nor until I could move my toes upon a return of sensation

was I aware that my leg was whole and my stirrup was gone; the very

leg I was wounded in years ago. Thank God, though still black, it is

all right now. My horse, a noble Arab,[272] which I rode all day (my

other horses, of course, being out of the way), had two slight wounds

besides his miraculous escape from various round shot.

Among a set in India, it is the _façon de parler_ that India could be

kept with Seapoys alone. He who says this is a fool. They could not

keep it, though transferred to them by England’s best blood. There is

on earth nothing equal to the “British soldier.”

Now for your gratification. Poor dear Juana, who was on an elephant

under the fire of cannon, is to be “Lady.” Poor dear old wife, she has

been very far from well for some time. The Commander-in-Chief, who is

a very warm-hearted fellow, says he insures me the K.C.B., which will

please you more than me.... We are also to have a brass star for every

officer and soldier made out of the captured cannon, and as Juana is

again a heroine, I want a gold star to be made at the jeweller’s who

makes mine, according to the sketch enclosed, which she would wear as

a brooch, the enamel part representing the ribbon.

May God bless you all is the fervent prayer of all us stars of Gwalior!

Faithfully your brother,

Harry.

As you have fancy in such things, make me out some sort of arms for

approval; but I like my present crest of all things, as it resembles

a game-cock; and remember I am Sir _Harry_ Smith—none of your

Henries.—H. G. S.

Camp Umbala, 18 March, 1844.

My dearest Alice,

You must forgive me this post, but what with marching, my report going

home, etc., I have a mass of papers and business on my table, which

must be cleared to-day. For I never have _one_ thing any _one_ day

that I do not finish; and my table every evening is as clear as an

Indian sky. God bless you all!

Harry.

Simla, 1 July, 1844.

Dearest Alice,

As to the shield, I prefer the one I returned. But we must have a

better elephant. His hind legs are all wrong.

Now for the motto, which, believe me, I have not lightly chosen, and

which I intend pertinaciously to adhere to—“Inter milites miles.” As

a boy, as I was a jawing fellow, I always had a great sway among my

comrades: and progressively the truth neutralized the vanity of the

assertion that I had ever been looked up to in my profession. Thus,

“Inter milites miles”—“A soldier among soldiers.” And, thank Heaven, I

have served with soldiers.

Pray be sure I do not adopt or assume anything bordering on the

preposterous or beyond the limit of decided right. Are you sure this

Vandyked sort of a coronet is right for the lion to dance on? I wish

that lion was a Rifle soldier; but I suppose that cannot be. I must

fight for supporters. Then I would have a Rifleman and a 52nd soldier,

the component parts of my gallant old Brigade in the Light Division.

If the Rifleman could be put on duty, Brother Tom would correct his

uniform and position. Your brother,

H. G. Smith.

Rest assured all of you, no _honour_ is half equal to the love I bear

you all in heart. I am the same

Harry.

Simla, 1st July, 1844.

Lord Ellenborough’s government has been one stamped with indelible

proof of striking ability, exertion, zeal, and assiduity, but founded

on no just and firm principles of future durability, establishing and

altering things at the moment without reflecting whether for ultimate

benefit to posterity. Such innovations in established government

require a gradual introduction, and must not be prematurely forced if

they are to be a wholesome fruit and for the welfare of such a vast

and heterogeneous nation. He saw clearly many existing errors, many

practices which required reform or were capable of amendment; but

jumped to such rapid conclusions that in the most instances the remedy

increased rather than alleviated the evil.

India is an ancient and peculiar country, replete with prejudices

and bigoted to custom. The introduction of any change requires

to be gradual to effect a benefit. Such benefit his precipitancy

usually defeated. The complicated systems of modern governments

obviously found their origin in those simple forms of patriarchal

rule not as yet in the East obliterated. Laws must be adapted to

the people; their nature must be gentle and calm, and not marked by

any outward appearance of strong feeling. He was elated in success

beyond all bounds of moderation, in reverse depressed below all

conception, in difficulties wavering and undecided; thus evincing

a want of that moral courage without which, in situations of great

responsibility, the most consummate ability and zeal are useless,

and a straightforward, bold, and plodding fellow of very inferior

talent makes the better governor. In the military execution of a

large portion of his duty his zeal for the nominal welfare of the

soldier has been unbounded; but it must not be regarded as illiberal

or uncharitable if I remark that this appears to be founded on a

personal vanity which has acquired for him the appropriate soubriquet

of a Brummagem Napoleon. With great affectation of liberality,

accompanied certainly by several such acts, he has shown a miserly

parsimony a great governor should avoid,—just, probably, in principle

or founded on rule; but such a principle (however anomalous the

assertion) must bend to circumstance in all states, whether in the

civil or military branch. Hence my lord drove the Seapoy army into

mutiny by an indiscreet exercise of what I admit was a right, but one

which the Seapoy did not understand under very trying and peculiar

circumstances, and in the midst of this mutiny moral courage was

wanting. By conceding the pecuniary point, mutiny in that army of

mutineers had been reduced to implicit and unqualified obedience.

The matter was unadvisedly smoothed over, and the _strong_ goes to

the wall. Militarily, too, my lord had another awful fault: one

which, had he continued long enough as Governor-General, would

have sapped the true base of discipline that every soldier must

look up to the authority placed immediately over him, and all to

their Commander-in-Chief. Whereas he would correspond with officers

commanding regiments, even with individuals; would frame orders which

were indeed within his legitimate province, but which etiquette, or,

what is a better reason, common sense, demands should be previously

submitted to the Commander-in-Chief, for an opinion as to how they

would work; would appoint officers to civil departments without any

reference to their military character for rectitude, or whether

they could advantageously be spared from their regiments. Thus it

was evident that the fundamental principles of good government were

not respected, and, while these interior errors existed, external

ones of great magnitude were in operation; but these require more

time to dwell on than I can bestow. As a whole, Lord Ellenborough’s

administration will be extolled by the home government. He can speak,

and will well defend himself. He has some great acts to boast of

(whatever their intrinsic merit) which will so eclipse the apparently

little ones I have recorded (which still are the component parts of

one great whole, like wheels in a watch) that he will be deemed a

noble martyr and become ere long President of the Board of Control.

India will be the gainer by his removal and by the man (if I mistake

not) who succeeds him, my old friend Sir Henry Hardinge. By way of

summary of my lord’s character. An excess of vanity, and contempt for

the opinions of others or their feelings, but, as with many a man,

not naturally a bad heart where self-interest and aggrandisement are

not the controlling powers. In early life he had not been taught to

withdraw his thoughts from self-will and to fix them upon the dictates

of conscience, to watch narrowly the rapid movements and changes

which take place in all men’s ideas, to form distinct notions of

the intellectual faculties of others and the result and operations

of his own acts. Had such been the case, it is more likely he would

have acquired just habits of thinking and been more accustomed to

analyze his own feelings and trains of thought. If a man of his great

capability and powers of reasoning be placed in early life in minor

situations of responsibility, and thus be afforded opportunities of

observing the diligence and aptitude for industry of those around,

and subsequently succeed to supreme authority, he has acquired an

_indispensable quality_—that of giving every one his meed of credit,

until he has displayed inefficiency or incompetency. In the profession

of my lord’s father[273] every man is innocent until found guilty,

but with _our_ “Law” every man was guilty who ventured an opinion in

variance with his own. Lord Ellenborough has been very kind to me, and

as I ever feel for any man under a visitation, so I do for him, and I

have written to him.

Simla, 12th Sep. 1844.

My dearest Alice,

What do you think I have been at work at for the last month? Some

memoirs of my life and Juana’s and my adventures—all from memory.

I have got into _Jamaica_, and have written nearly 400 pages of

closely-put-together foolscap. Will you like to decipher and correct

it? It will be done in a fortnight—that is, the rough; for as yet I

have never read over one sheet I have written, but rushed ahead as

water finds its level. There are a variety of stories and events in it.

The new Governor-General is winning golden opinions by his deportment

and the regularity with which he transacts business. He says in his

letter to me the labour is incessant, much of it trifles which ought

to be settled in the departments they belong to. He has hit off one of

the great evils of this government pretty quick evidently. The rumour

here is very general that, Sir Hugh Gough not having taken the hint to

make way for Sir Henry Hardinge, it will be renewed in a less evasive

communication. If he be made a peer and they give him the pension as

in the case of Lord Keane (my dear old friend who is fast decaying),

I am of opinion Sir Hugh Gough would willingly return to his native

land, covered with honours, wallowing in wealth, possessing a good

heart, a gallant hand, and _no_ ——.

It is wonderful how fortune adheres to some men, and supplies all the

deficiencies of nature.

You addressed a letter to me the other day “Sir Henry.” My name is and

shall be Harry.

Simla, 15th October, 1844.

Well, I have finished the anecdotes of a very long military career

from my entrance into the army in 1805 to the end of the campaign of

Gwalior. It is a voluminous tale, containing upwards of six hundred

pages of foolscap, written all over without margin in my beautiful

autograph as closely as this paper, but I fear ten times as illegible.

I have never read a page of it since my scrawling it over at full

gallop, and wish you well through it. If I am to send it, great

circumspection must be used as to names and descriptions of men and

events, or they might do others an injury (which Heaven forfend) and

myself too. Whether it may not be advisable not to print it all until

I am on the shelf in our retreat or in my grave for the benefit of my

widow remains for you and Sir James Kempt to decide on inspection.

I very much regret to say the new Moghul has begun his career as

Governor-General in a very little, calculating way, as a banker’s

clerk might be expected to do; and all accounts from Calcutta

agree in saying that he funks responsibility beyond conception,

throwing himself into the hands of understrappers. This won’t do

for India. It must be governed by energy and decision. “Sic volo”

like my lord Ellenborough. It would appear that if these two men’s

minds could be manufactured into one, the corn being preserved and

the chaff scattered to the winds, then a Governor-General would be

manufactured appropriate for the _rôle_. The Company servants, civil

and military, are an _exclusive_ race of beings and of all things must

be controlled. There is now a sort of reaction from great control to

concession and a seeking the opinion of others. I hope he is only

studying his lesson.

I am sorry indeed to hear poor Nancy[274] has been unwell. God bless

her, she was a wild, light-hearted thing once, like my wife.

Umbala, 14th Jan. 1845.

My book is in the hills. Harry Lorrequer would make a good story of

it. You may ask him if you like, and let me know what he says of

it. I ought to expect half the proceeds. It is a book that would

take wonderfully. Suppress actual names. All my old comrades would

speedily know the hero and heroine of the romance. I hope to return to

my dear old wife by the middle of March.

Harry.

Simla, 15th March, 1845.

Your description of railroads astonishes the eyes of a Whittlesea

man. It is a very curious circumstance that one of the Romans’ great

roads ran down to Eastrey near Charles’ farm, that is, between our two

old fields, from which I have fetched up old Jack from grass many a

time, and Charles’ large farm (the Decoy is the name, I think). These

railroads will have an effect on the world, whether for good or evil,

and will change its population to one community, either saints or

devils or a bastard mixture of both.

Simla, 1st May, 1845 (the Merry Month).

I have not a word of news to give you. Affairs in the Punjaub are like

the waves of the sea, agitated more or less, but not by the wind, but

the blast of the mutinous trumpets of the rabble army. I hope we may

have a slap at it, because I rely upon Sir Henry Hardinge desiring to

give me a command, which I firmly believe Sir Hugh Gough would not

oppose, for I never got on smoother with any of my generals, and he is

as warm-hearted a fellow as ever breathed, and does right and acquits

himself manfully to the extent of the powers the Lord has bestowed

upon him.

I am glad to observe the English feeling which strikes at so

condemnable a system as that of opening letters. I would rather fight

to put down a Revolution arising from private correspondents than cock

a pop-gun to maintain so nefarious a breach of all public and private

confidence. We are in danger enough from the Mesmerites telling us

in a deep sleep what is going on in the next room (a three-feet wall

intervening), without having recourse to the other side of a thin

sheet of paper.

Juana’s health is capital, thank God, but I am never half so well in

the hills as on the plains. Nothing can be more beautiful than our

situation, but I love the winter gallops on the plains as flat as the

Bedford level.

Simla, 24th Aug. 1845.

By the last mail’s papers, as well as by your letter, I see that

dear Sir James Kempt was at the Waterloo Dinner, and I have this day

written to congratulate him.

The way in which the Duke, dear old and modern hero, drank his health

was truly flattering to Sir James and most gratifying to all his many

and faithful friends. But I really wish some of the glories of the

_Peninsula_ were occasionally commemorated by such fêtes. Many of the

battles are superior to Waterloo in the annals of the art of war; but

not being succeeded by such momentous political results to all Europe

(ah! to the world), they are suffered to dwindle into oblivion. Nor

is there a medal on the breast of any cicatrized hero to hand down

to posterity the glories and victories of the previous age. History

to the educated will do it, but a few petty baubles in possession of

the many families of Great Britain would ocularly demonstrate “My

grandfather, sire, uncle, or brother achieved this in battle,” and

thus the courage and patriotism of the sire would descend on the

son.[275]

Every ass in India is covered with medals, though the sum of his

fighting does not equal one of _our_ days. The battle of Salamanca was

the most scientific the Duke fought, Vittoria in result the greatest,

Talavera in slaughter equalled Waterloo,—yet these names and many

others are only seen upon the colours of regiments. My old corps,

having no colours, has no record of its deeds.

As to writing to Mrs. Holdich, Lord alive, it gives one no trouble,

especially when cheered by the happy feeling of doing right. I suppose

a million or so of letters go through my hands per annum; one or two

more or less is like a drop of water in the ocean or a hogshead in

Whittlesea mere.

Headquarters, Simla, 1st Sept. 1845.

Oh that I was in England, partridge-shooting!

My dearest Alice,

—Ah, what a bore! A note from the Commander-in-Chief to prepare a very

heavy report, which will take me some hours, when I was anticipating

a comfortable talk with my dear sister. With all my writing,

however, half an hour makes little difference, although on the most

conspicuous part of my writing-desk is pasted in large characters the

tenth verse of the ninth chapter of Ecclesiastes.[276]

When shall I enjoy that liberty so pleasing, when emancipated from

all the shackles and labours, bars, bonds, and tempers, which

business lays on us, and which we have to contend with? Alas! memory

takes us by the hand and leads us back to our early haunts, habits,

and friends—the flower garden of other years—and points out all

the blossoms we may never more behold, although in imagination as

beautiful as ever. Still hope encourages us in such sweet sensations

and sustains us in the belief there may be some years of quiet and

recreation in store for us, surrounded by those we love, and eased of

the labours of public life. Many of my old comrades say, “How could

you, Harry, get on without something to do?” I laugh, for I am ever

busy. I love books and gardens. I am as interested in the growth of a

pet plant as in the results of my more arduous labours; and the charm

of the word “home” often inspires me to exertion.

Now, dearest Alice, to my report. My head must be full of cannon,

musquets, sabres, rations, tents, transport for baggage, sick, lame

and lazy, shirts, shoes, pipeclay, tobacco, soap, etc., etc.

Harry.

Left bank of the Sutlej, 28th Dec. 1845.

My dearest Alice,

Your old brother Harry has only a few minutes to say to you and

his dear friend Sir James Kempt he has at length in India had an

opportunity of distinguishing himself as much as you both could wish,

in the three most sanguinary conflicts with the Sikhs, and he with

his own hand, the first man in, planted the colour of H.M.’s 50th

Regiment on the walls of the headquarter village from which the great

battle was named, Ferozeshuhur. A bloody fight it has been, as you

will see by the papers. I was with the old 50th hand to hand in their

trenches when four battalions of Avitabile’s (so called from having

been drilled by that officer) bore down in furious onslaught upon my

Division which I now command—two Brigades, H.M.’s 31st and two Native

Regiments in one, the 50th and two Native Regiments in the other. In

the affair of the 18th my Division took twelve guns and a howitzer; in

the great battle, three fine standards; and on the 22nd my Division

made a furious charge and completed the victory. I was placed on the

night of the 21st in a most critical and perilous position in the very

middle of the whole Sikh (though beaten) army, completely surrounded

by thousands, and at three o’clock succeeded in drawing off my troops,

and received the thanks of Sir H. H.: “Smith, it was your boldness

and audacity that _saved_ to us the victory.” Poor old General Sale

asked leave on the 18th to serve with me. I gave him a Battalion, at

the head of which he received his mortal wound. Our loss has been as

great in proportion as in our most bloody fights in the Peninsula. All

my Staff were wounded, A.A.G. and A.Q.M.G. in two places. My A.D.C.,

Eliza Holdich’s son, wounded in the hand, one horse killed, one

wounded. Myself and my horses escaped, with the blessing of Almighty

Providence, without a scratch. I was in the saddle from half-past two

on the morning of the 21st to four o’clock in the afternoon of the

23rd. My dear, dear gallant young friend Somerset received his mortal

wound close to me, and fell in my A.D.C.’s arms. Tell Sir James I will

send him next mail copy of my report; this, I cannot. I have no clerks

as when A.G. Dear Juana is at Meerut, thank God, well out of the way.

Your old humbug of a brother’s name _up_ in the army, I do assure

you, especially with Sir Henry Hardinge and Sir Hugh Gough. Sir H. H.

treats and takes and asks my opinion for as much as it is worth, as my

dear, dear friend Sir James would. Heaven bless you, I know this will

gratify you and Sir James. So I send this on a thick scrawl of paper.

I have not time to read it over.

Harry.

Camp on the Field of Battle, Aloowal, 1st Feb. 1846.

My dearest Alice,

I have only one moment to say I have gained, in a separate command of

2700 cavalry, 32 guns, and 9000 infantry, one of the most glorious

battles ever fought in India, driving the enemy over the Sutledge

double my numbers, posted in an intrenched camp with 75 guns, 52 of

which are at my tent door, the others lost in the passage of the

river, or spiked in its bed. Not a gun did they get over. And oh,

the fearful sight the river presents! the bodies having swollen float

of men, horses, camels, bullocks, etc. Thousands must have perished,

many threw away their arms and fled headlong into the broad river and

difficult ford. They had about fifty large boats, which added to the

confusion. Some of them were sunk, my thirty-two pieces of cannon

pounding them all. Never was victory more complete and never was one

fought under more happy circumstances, literally with the pomp of a

field-day; and right well did all behave. I brought well into action

each arm as auxiliary to the other, but see my dispatch, which will be

published as soon as you get this. I have not a moment to write. Send

this to dear Sir James Kempt, and tell him my being thus distinguished

I owe entirely to his friendship and good opinion of me. Send this to

him, for I have not a moment to write.

Your brother,

Harry.

_To W. M. Ford, Esq., Staff Surgeon, Chatham._

Headquarters, Simla, 4th May, 1846.

The enemy we have had to contend with lately are proper varmint

fellows, and had they been commanded by Massena’s, Ney’s, Soult’s,

Augereau’s victors, they would have made us look sharp to have

victor’d them. I never saw men shot out of trees before. At Moodkee

the bold rascals got into trees, shot our fellows in the rear, at

first without our knowing where the shot came from, but when we

discovered the _where_, it was the most extraordinary thing I ever

saw to see half a dozen fellows out of each tree come rolling down

like cock pheasants or capercailzie. When repulsed from their guns

and position, they would sometimes throw down their musquets and come

on sword and target (they all carry excellent swords) like antient

Greeks.

APPENDIX VII.

Sir Harry Smith’s Recall from the Cape.

A. _Copy of a Despatch from Earl Grey to Governor Sir H. G. Smith,

Bart., G.C.B._

Downing Street, January 14, 1852.

Sir,

I have received and laid before the Queen your despatches of the 5th

and 19th of November, reporting the results of the operations of the

war since the date of your despatches by the previous mail.

2. I learn from these despatches that another month of this

distressing warfare has passed away, and though the force at your

disposal had been increased to a very considerable amount no advantage

of any real importance has been gained over the enemy, while the

loss of Her Majesty’s troops has been exceedingly heavy, that very

distinguished officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Fordyce, being included

among those who have fallen.

3. I have said, that no real advantage has been gained, because, while

you state that positions of extraordinary strength have been stormed,

and it is clear that the most determined courage has been shown by Her

Majesty’s troops, these successes (if they can be called so) have been

entirely barren of useful results; and it appears from the reports

of Major-General Somerset, and particularly from his despatch dated

the 9th of November, that the ground thus hardly won could not be

retained, and that the position which was carried at the price of such

heavy loss to the 74th Regiment on the 6th of November, was only held

until the Major-General “withdrew the troops in the afternoon,” when

it would seem that there was no obstacle to its being re-occupied by

the enemy, and that in fact it was so.

4. For several months your despatches have been of a similar

character. You have described to me operations which I have constantly

been assured had been attended with success, and had inflicted heavy

loss upon the enemy, while there could be no doubt that the troops had

fought with their accustomed gallantry; but at the same time I was

quite unable to discover that any ground had really been gained, while

it was obvious that the enemy, far from being discouraged by their

supposed defeats, were from month to month increasing in boldness and

determination; and the lists of casualties but too clearly proved that

the loss they had inflicted was at least as certain, and bore no small

proportion to that which they were believed to have sustained.

5. It was impossible that I should continue to receive intelligence

of this description by many successive mails without being led to

entertain very serious doubts whether the war had been conducted with

the energy and the judgment which were necessary to bring it to an

early and successful issue; but distressing as was the anxiety which

these doubts occasioned, I have not hitherto allowed them to induce

me to deprive you of that support which I know it is of the utmost

importance to the public service that those in high military commands

should be able to rely on not having lightly withdrawn from them by

the advisers of the Crown, when, in situations of difficulty and

danger, success does not at once attend their exertions.

6. But the information I have now received has converted what was

before only a very serious doubt, into conviction; and it is my

painful duty to inform you that having consulted my colleagues on the

subject, they have concurred with me in coming to the conclusion,

that upon a careful review of the events of the war and those which

preceded its breaking out, there is evidence, which it is impossible

longer to resist, that you have failed in showing that foresight,

energy, and judgment which your very difficult position required, and

that therefore we should not be justified in shrinking from tendering

to the Queen our humble advice that the Government of the Cape of Good

Hope and the conduct of the war should be placed in other hands. It

has accordingly been my duty to submit to Her Majesty my advice that

Major-General Cathcart should be appointed to relieve you, of which

Her Majesty has been pleased to approve, and that officer will very

shortly proceed to the Cape for that purpose.

7. I need hardly assure you that I cannot make this communication

without great pain and sincere reluctance, and that nothing but a

sense of imperative duty would have led my colleagues and myself to

take the course we have felt ourselves compelled to adopt.

We do full justice to the ardent zeal for Her Majesty’s service which

you have uniformly displayed, we have not forgot how greatly you have

distinguished yourself on former occasions, and what a high military

reputation you have deservedly obtained; but we have been compelled to

believe that, perhaps from the failure of your health, and your being

no longer able to exercise as close a personal superintendence as

formerly over the conduct of affairs, you have failed in giving either

to your military operations or to your political measures bearing upon

the war, that character of vigour and judgment which are necessary

to inspire confidence in the inhabitants and troops, and to command

success. I must remind you that the first error which was committed,

and to which I believe the failure of a policy otherwise sound, and

the calamity of the war, are mainly attributable, was the premature

reduction of the British force under your command. I must take upon

myself a share of the blame for this mistake, inasmuch as I had

probably too often and too strongly pressed upon you the importance of

reducing the number of troops as soon as this could be safely done.

Still your discretion was unfettered, you were left to decide for

yourself when the troops should be sent home, since this was a point

on which a judgment could only be formed on the spot; and the error,

therefore, was your own of supposing that a large proportion of the

force which you found in the colony could without danger so soon be

dispensed with.

8. I must also remind you, that up to the eve of the actual breaking

out of hostilities you continued to send me the strongest assurances

that there existed no real danger, and that the apprehensions

expressed by the frontier farmers were unfounded. Even when the war

began, you were so little aware of its true character that you made

no application to me for additional force; and neither in your public

nor your private letters did you give me the slightest intimation that

such aid was required; and the reinforcements, which were immediately

despatched, as well as those which have been subsequently sent,

have all, with the exception of the last, anticipated your demands

for them. It is not for me to express any opinion on the detail of

your military operations; but it must strike even an unprofessional

observer, that by the employment of means which you considered

adequate for the purpose no serious impression appears to have been

made on the enemy. It follows that you have either been entirely

mistaken in your judgment, and have consequently led Her Majesty’s

Government into error as to the character of the war, and the amount

of force required; or else that you have failed in using with effect

the force at your disposal.

9. With regard to the political measures bearing upon the result

of the war, I must refer you to the despatch which I have been

compelled to address to you by the present mail on the neglect of the

precautions obviously required, in order to obstruct the supply of

ammunition to the enemy. The fault in this respect must no doubt be

in part attributed to the Colonial Secretary, whom you had left in

charge of the Government at Cape Town; but if you had intimated to

me that Mr. Montagu could not alone adequately discharge the arduous

duties which devolved upon him in your absence, I should not have

failed immediately to have afforded you further assistance, by the

appointment of a Civil Lieutenant-Governor, to reside at Cape Town

during the war,—a step I propose adopting, now that the necessity for

it has thus been disclosed to me.

10. I must also observe, that you have, I believe, truly represented

to me, that if you had had the Kafirs only to contend with, the war

would long since have been brought to a close; and that what has

made them such formidable enemies has been the assistance they have

derived from the rebel Hottentots, too many of whom had been trained

as soldiers in the ranks of the British army. But if this is, as I

believe, a correct view of the subject, I must regard it as a most

fatal error that the first instances of treason amongst this class

of the inhabitants of the Cape were not dealt with more promptly and

more severely. I cannot resist the belief that, had this been done,

the contagion of disaffection would have been stayed, as the prompt

punishment of the real traitors would have calmed the fears naturally

excited amongst the white inhabitants by seeing their impunity, and

would thus have prevented the colonists of European descent from being

led to entertain and display that indiscriminate jealousy of their

coloured fellow-subjects, which has been, as there is too much reason

to fear, the means of driving into disaffection many of the latter who

were not originally inclined to it.

11. Lastly, I must regard it as a grievous error that you have

allowed the administration of the Orange River Territory to remain

too long in the hands of an officer in your own opinion unequal to

the task, and that by this and other mistakes in your management of

the Dutch inhabitants of the frontier districts, you have failed to

conciliate that important class by whose cordial co-operation there

can be no doubt that you would have been enabled to bring the war to

a much earlier termination than there is now a prospect of; while, on

the contrary, by the distracted condition of the Sovereignty, your

difficulties in Kaffraria have been very seriously increased. The

manner in which, by judicious management, Mr. Pine has succeeded in

Natal in securing the confidence and attachment of the Dutch farmers,

as described in your despatch No. 193, clearly proves that, if

properly treated, they may be rendered loyal and useful subjects of

the Crown.