The Autobiography of Lieutenant-General Sir Harry Smith Baronet of Aliwal on the Sutlej G.C.B.

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Title: The Autobiography of Lieutenant-General Sir Harry Smith Baronet of Aliwal on the Sutlej G.C.B.
Author: Smith, Harry George Wakelyn
Language: English
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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF LIEUTENANT-GENERAL Sir Harry Smith BART., G.C.B.

FIRST EDITION (_2 vols._) _December, 1901_.
_Reprinted_ _January, 1902_.
_Reprinted_ _February, 1902_.
_Reprinted_ _April, 1902_.
ONE VOL. EDITION _September, 1903_.

[Illustration: Harry Smith]

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF
LIEUTENANT-GENERAL
Sir Harry Smith
BARONET OF ALIWAL ON THE SUTLEJ
G.C.B.

EDITED
WITH THE ADDITION OF SOME SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTERS
By G. C. MOORE SMITH, M.A.

WITH PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1903

PRINTED BY
WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
LONDON AND BECCLES.

PREFACE.

The Life of Sir Harry Smith here offered to the public consists of
an Autobiography covering the period 1787 to 1846 (illustrated by
notes and appendices), and some supplementary chapters contributed by
myself on the last period of Sir Harry’s life (1846-1860). Chapter
XXXI. carries the reader to the year 1829. This, it is interesting to
remark, is a true turning point in the life of the great soldier. Till
then he had seen warfare only on two continents, Europe and America
(the Peninsula, France, the Netherlands, Monte Video, Buenos Ayres,
Washington, New Orleans); from that date onwards the scene of his
active service was Africa and Asia. Till 1829 his responsibility was
small; after 1829 he had a large or paramount share in directing the
operations in which he was engaged. This difference naturally affects
the tone of his narrative in the two periods.

The Autobiography (called by its author “Various Anecdotes and Events
of my Life”) was begun by Sir Harry Smith, then Lieutenant-Colonel
Smith, at Glasgow in 1824. At that time it was only continued as far
as page 15 of the present volume. On 11th August, 1844, when he had won
his K.C.B., and was Adjutant-General of Her Majesty’s Forces in India,
he resumed his task at Simla. He then wrote with such speed that on
15th October he was able to tell his sister that he had carried his
narrative to the end of the campaign of Gwalior, that is, to 1844 (p.
490). Finally, on 7th September, 1846, when at Cawnpore in command of a
Division, he began to add to what he had previously written an account
of the campaign of the Sutlej, which had brought him fresh honours.
This narrative was broken off abruptly in the middle of the Battle of
Sobraon (p. 550), and was never completed. Accordingly, of Sir Harry
Smith’s life from February, 1846, to his death on 12th October, 1860,
we have no record by his own hand.

The Autobiography had been carefully preserved by Sir Harry’s former
aide-de-camp and friend, General Sir Edward Alan Holdich, K.C.B.,
but, as it happened, I was not myself aware of its existence until,
owing to the fresh interest awakened in Sir Harry Smith and his wife
by the siege of Ladysmith early in 1900, I inquired from members of
my family what memorials of my great-uncle were preserved. Sir Edward
then put this manuscript and a number of letters and documents at my
disposal. It appeared to me and to friends whom I consulted that
the Autobiography was so full of romantic adventure and at the same
time of such solid historical value that it ought no longer to remain
unpublished, and Mr. John Murray, to whom I submitted a transcription
of it, came at once to the same conclusion.

My task as Editor has not been a light one. In Sir Harry’s letter to
Mrs. Sargant of 15th October, 1844,[1] he says of his manuscript,
“I have never read a page of it since my scrawling it over at full
gallop;” and in a letter of 14th January, 1845, “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.” It is clear from these passages that Sir Harry did
not contemplate the publication of his story in the rough form in which
he had written it, but imagined that some literary man, such as Charles
Lever, might take it in hand, rewrite it with fictitious names, and so
fashion out of it a military romance. The chapters[2] on Afghanistan
and Gwalior, already written, were, however, of a serious character
which would make them unsuitable for such treatment; and the same was
the case with the chapters on the Sikh War, afterwards added. Whether
Lever ever saw the manuscript I do not know; at any rate, the author’s
idea was never carried out.

It is obvious that now that fifty years have passed, some of the
reasons which made Sir Harry suggest such a transformation of his story
are no longer in force. The actors in the events which he describes
having almost all passed away, to suppress names would be meaningless
and would deprive the book of the greater part of its interest. And for
the sake of literary effect to rewrite Sir Harry’s story would be to
destroy its great charm, the intimate relation in which it sets us with
his fiery and romantic character.

The book here given to the public is not indeed word for word as
Sir Harry wrote it. It has often been necessary to break up a long
sentence, to invert a construction—sometimes to transpose a paragraph
in order to bring it into closer connexion with the events to which it
refers. But such changes have only been made when they seemed necessary
to bring out more clearly the writer’s intention; the _words_ are the
author’s own, even where a specially awkward construction has been
smoothed; and it may be broadly said that _nothing_ has been added to
Sir Harry’s narrative or omitted from it. Such slight additions to the
text as seemed desirable, for example, names and dates of battles,[3]
have been included in square brackets. In some cases, to avoid awkward
parentheses, sentences of Sir Harry’s own have been relegated from
the text to footnotes. Such notes are indicated by the addition of his
initials (“H. G. S.”).

Sir Harry’s handwriting was not of the most legible order, as he
admits, and I have had considerable difficulty in identifying some
of the persons and places he mentions. Sometimes I have come to the
conclusion that his own recollection was at fault, and in this case I
have laid my difficulty before the reader.

I have not thought it my duty to normalize the spelling of proper
names, such as those of towns in the Peninsula and in India, and
the names of Kafir chiefs. Sir Harry himself spells such names in a
variety of ways, and I have not thought absolute consistency a matter
of importance, while to have re-written Indian names according to
the modern official spelling would have been, as it seems to me, to
perpetrate an anachronism.

I have, indeed, generally printed “Sutlej,” though Sir Harry frequently
or generally wrote “Sutledge;” but I have kept in his own narrative his
spelling “Ferozeshuhur” (which is, I believe, more correct) for the
battle generally called “Ferozeshah.” Even Sir Harry’s native place
(and my own) has two spellings, “Whittlesey” and “Whittlesea.” In his
narrative I have preserved his usual spelling “Whittlesea,” but I have
myself used the other, as I have been taught to do from a boy.

Perhaps it is worth while to mention here that Sir Harry’s name was
strictly “Henry George Wakelyn Smith,” and it appears in this form in
official documents. But having been always known in the army as “Harry
Smith,” after attaining his knighthood he stoutly refused to become
“Sir Henry,” and insisted on retaining the more familiar name.[4] As
the year of his birth is constantly given as 1788, it is worth while to
state that the Baptismal Register of St. Mary’s, Whittlesey, proves him
to have been born on 28th June, 1787.

While the documents put into my hands by Sir Edward Holdich enabled
me to throw a good deal of additional light on the events recorded
in the Autobiography, I thought it a prime duty not to interrupt Sir
Harry’s own narrative by interpolations. Accordingly I have thrown this
illustrative matter into Appendices. In some of these, especially in
his letters to his wife of 1835 (Appendix iv.), one sees the writer,
perhaps, in still more familiar guise than in the Autobiography.

But I had not merely to illustrate the period of Sir Harry’s life
covered by his Autobiography; I had a further task before me, viz. to
construct a narrative of the rest of his life (1846-1860), including
his Governorship of the Cape (1847-1852). For the manner in which I
have done this, I must crave indulgence. At the best it would have
been no easy matter to continue in the third person a story begun by
the main actor in the first, and in this case the letters and personal
memoranda, which were tolerably abundant for Sir Harry’s earlier years,
suddenly became very scanty when they were most required. Accordingly,
for much of Sir Harry’s life I had no more sources to draw on than are
accessible to anybody—histories, blue-books, and newspapers. I can
only say that in this situation I have done the best I could. My chief
difficulty was, of course, in dealing with the time of Sir Harry’s
command at the Cape. It would have been inconsistent with the scope of
the whole book to have attempted a systematic history of the colony
or of the operations of the Kafir War. At the same time I could not
enable my readers to form an estimate of Sir Harry’s conduct at this
time without giving them some indication of the circumstances which
surrounded him. If I am found by some critics to have subordinated
biography too much to history, I can only hope that other critics will
console me by finding that I have subordinated history too much to
biography.

Amid a certain dearth of materials of a private kind, I do
congratulate myself on having been able to use the packet of letters
docketed by Sir Harry, “John Bell’s and Charlie Beckwith’s Letters.”
General Beckwith was an earlier General Gordon, and his letters are
so interesting in matter and so brilliant in expression that one is
tempted to wish to see them printed in full. Perhaps some readers
of this book may be able to tell me of other letters by the same
remarkable man which have been preserved.

The latter part of this book would have been balder than it is, if it
had not been for the help I have received from various friends, known
and unknown. I must express my thanks in particular to the Misses
Payne of Chester, who lent me letters addressed to their father,
Major C. W. Meadows Payne; to Mrs. Thorne of Chippenham, who lent me
letters addressed to her father, Major George Simmons; to Mrs. Fasson,
daughter of Mr. Justice Menzies of the Cape, and Mr. W. F. Collier of
Horrabridge, who gave me their reminiscences; to Colonel L. G. Fawkes,
R.A., Stephen A. Aveling, Esq., of Rochester, Major J. F. Anderson
of Faringdon, R. Morton Middleton, Esq., of Ealing, Captain C. V.
Ibbetson of Preston, Mrs. Henry Fawcett, my aunt Mrs. John A. Smith,
Mrs. Farebrother of Oxford, Mr. B. Genn of Ely, Mr. Charles Sayle of
Cambridge, Mr. G. J. Turner of Lincoln’s Inn, Mr. A. E. Barnes of the
Local Government Board, the Military Secretary of the War Office,
and others, for kind assistance of various kinds. I am indebted to
my cousins, Mrs. Lambert of 1, Sloane Gardens, S.W., and C. W. Ford,
Esq., for permission to reproduce pictures in their possession, and
to General Sir Edward Holdich for much aid and interest in my work
in addition to the permission to use his diary of the Boomplaats
expedition. Lastly, my thanks are due to my brothers and sisters who
assisted in transcribing the Autobiography, and in particular to my
sister, Miss M. A. Smith, who did most of the work of preparing the
Index.

I shall feel that any labour which I have bestowed on the preparation
of this book will be richly repaid if through it Harry and Juana Smith
cease to be mere names and become living figures, held in honour and
affection by the sons and daughters of the Empire which they served.

G. C. MOORE SMITH.

Sheffield,
_September, 1901_.

For some of the corrections now introduced I am indebted to Lieut.-Col.
Willoughby Verner, Rifle Brigade, and to the Rev. Canon C. Evans, late
Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge.

G. C. M. S.

University College, Sheffield,
_April, 1902_.

DATES OF LIEUT.-GENERAL SIR HARRY SMITH’S COMMISSIONS AND APPOINTMENTS.

REGIMENTAL RANK.

Second Lieutenant, 1st Battalion 95th Regiment 8 May, 1805
Lieutenant 15 Aug. 1805
Captain 28 Feb. 1812
Major, unattached 29 Dec. 1826
Lieut.-Colonel, unattached 22 July, 1830
Lieut.-Colonel, 3rd Foot 13 May, 1842
Lieut.-Colonel, unattached 25 Aug. 1843
Colonel, 47th Foot 18 Jan. 1847
Colonel, 2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade 16 April, 1847
Colonel, 1st Battalion Rifle Brigade 18 Jan. 1855

ARMY RANK.

Major 29 Sept. 1814
Lieut.-Colonel 18 June, 1815
Colonel 10 Jan. 1837
Local rank of Major-General in the East Indies 21 Aug. 1840
Major-General 9 Nov. 1846
Local rank of Lieut.-General in South Africa 1847-1852
Lieut.-General 20 June, 1854

STAFF APPOINTMENTS.

Peninsular War.

A.D.C. to Colonel T. S. Beckwith Oct. 1810
Brigade Major, 2nd Brigade, Light Division under } Mar. 1811 to
Major-General Drummond, Major-General Vandeleur, } the end of
Major-General Skerrett, and Colonel Colborne } the war, Mar.
successively } 1814

Washington Expedition.

D.A.G. to Major-General R. Ross 1814

New Orleans Expedition.

A.A.G. to Major-General Sir E. Pakenham 1814

Military Secretary to Major-General Sir J. Lambert 1815

Waterloo Campaign.

Brigade-Major, afterwards A.Q.M.G. to 6th Division
(Major-General Sir J. Lambert and Major-General
Sir Lowry Cole successively) 1815

[Returns to his regiment.]

Occupation of France.

Major de Place of Cambray 1815-1818

[Returns to his regiment.]

Glasgow.

Major of Brigade to Major-General Sir T. Reynell
(commanding Western District) and Lieut-General
Sir T. Bradford (Commander-in-Chief in
Scotland) successively 1819-1825

[Returns to his regiment.]

Nova Scotia.

A.D.C. to Lieut.-General Sir James Kempt, Governor 1826

Jamaica.

D.Q.M.G. under Lieut.-General Sir John Keane,
Governor 1827

Cape of Good Hope.

D.Q.M.G. under Lieut.-General Sir Lowry Cole, Lieut.-General
Sir B. D’Urban, Major-General Sir G.
T. Napier, Governors, successively 1828-1840

Chief of the Staff under Sir Benjamin D’Urban in
the Kafir War 1835

India.

A.G. to Her Majesty’s Forces, under Lieut.-General
Sir Jasper Nicolls and Lieut.-General Sir Hugh
Gough, Commanders-in-Chief, successively 1840-1845

Sikh War.

In Command of the 1st Division Infantry 1845-1846

Cape of Good Hope.

Governor and Commander-in-Chief 1847-1852

Home Staff.

In Command of the Western Military District 1853-1854

In Command of the Northern and Midland Military
Districts 1854-1859

STEPS IN THE ORDER OF THE BATH.

C.B. for Waterloo 1815
K.C.B. for Maharajpore 1844
G.C.B. for Aliwal and Sobraon 1846

BOOKS USEFUL FOR REFERENCE IN CONNEXION WITH SIR HARRY SMITH’S LIFE.

_An Authentic Narrative of the Proceedings of the Expedition
under ... Craufurd until its Arrival at Monte Video, with
an Account of the Operations against Buenos Ayres.... By an
Officer of the Expedition_ (1808).

Sir William F. P. Napier: _History of the War in the Peninsula_.

Sir H. E. Maxwell: _Life of Wellington_.

Sir William H. Cope: _History of the Rifle Brigade_ (1877).

Edward Costello: _Adventures of a Soldier_ (1852).

_A British Rifleman_ (Major George Simmons’ Diary), edited by
Lt.-Colonel Willoughby Verner (1899).

Sir John Kincaid: _Random Shots by a Rifleman_.

Sir John Kincaid: _Adventures in the Rifle Brigade_.

_Recollections of Rifleman Harris_ (1848).

Surtees: _Twenty-five Years in the Rifle Brigade_ (1833).

Colonel Jonathan Leach: _Rough Sketches in the Life of an Old
Soldier_ (1831).

_A Narrative of the Campaigns of the British Army at Washington
and New Orleans. By an Officer_ (1821).

Charles Dalton: _The Waterloo Roll Call_ (1890).

George McC. Theal: _History of South Africa_, vol. iv. (1893).

R. Godlonton: _A Narrative of the Irruption of the Kafir Hordes
into the Eastern Province of the Cape of Good Hope, 1834-5_
(1836).

Sir J. E. Alexander: _Narrative of a Voyage, etc._ (1837). This
work contains in vol. ii. a history of the Kafir War of
1835, with illustrations.

H. Cloete: _The Great Boer Trek_.

_The War in India. Despatches of Viscount Hardinge, Lord Gough,
Major-General Sir Harry Smith, Bart., etc._ (1846).

J. D. Cunningham: _History of the Sikhs_.

McGregor: _History of the Sikhs_.

General Sir Chas. Gough and A. D. Innes: _The Sikhs and the Sikh
Wars_ (1897).

J. W. Clark and T. McK. Hughes: _Life of Adam Sedgwick_.

Harriet Ward: _Five Years in Kaffirland_.

J. Noble: _South Africa_ (1877).

A. Wilmot and J. C. Chase: _Annals of the Colony of the Cape of
Good Hope_ (1869).

Alfred W. Cole: _The Cape and the Kaffirs_ (1852).

W. R. King: _Campaigning in Kaffirland_ (with illustrations),
(1853).

W. A. Newman: _Memoir of John Montagu_ (1855).

_Correspondence of General Sir G. Cathcart_ (1856).

Earl Grey: _The Colonial Policy of Lord John Russell’s
Administration_ (1853).

Blue-Books: _Cape of Good Hope (1830-1852)_.

M. Meille: _Memoir of General Beckwith, C.B._ (1873).

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

I. Monte Video and Buenos Ayres, 1806-7 1

II. With Sir John Moore—Battle of Coruña,
1808-9 14

III. Back to the Peninsula under Sir Arthur
Wellesley, 1809 18

IV. Campaign of 1810—The 1st German Hussars 24

V. Campaign of 1810—Battle of the Coa 28

VI. Campaign of 1811 41

VII. Campaign of 1812: Storming of Ciudad Rodrigo 55

VIII. Campaign of 1812: the Storming of Badajos—Harry
Smith’s Marriage 61

IX. Campaign of 1812: Battle of Salamanca—Occupation
of Madrid—Retreat to Salamanca 75

X. Campaign of 1812: Retreat to the Lines of
Torres Vedras—Winter of 1812-13 84

XI. Campaign of 1813: Battle of Vittoria 93

XII. Campaign of 1813: Advance to Vera 104

XIII. Campaign of 1813: In the Pyrenees—General
Skerrett—Combat of Vera—Fight at the
Bridge, and Death of Cadoux 113

XIV. Campaign of 1813: Colonel Colborne—Second
Combat of Vera 129

XV. Campaign of 1813: Battle of the Nivelle 140

XVI. Combat of the 10th December—Harry Smith’s
Dream and the Death of his Mother 152

XVII. Campaign of 1814: Battle of Orthez—Anecdote
of Juana Smith 162

XVIII. Campaign of 1814: at Gée, near Aire—Battle
of Tarbes—Battle of Toulouse—end
of the War 170

XIX. Harry Smith parts from his Wife before
starting for the War in America 182

XX. Voyage to Bermuda—Rendezvous in the
Chesapeake—Battle of Bladensburg and
Capture of Washington—Harry Smith
sent Home with Dispatches 191

XXI. Harry Smith once more in England—Reunion
with his Wife in London—Interview
with the Prince Regent—Dinner at Lord
Bathurst’s—A Journey to Bath—Harry
Smith introduces his Wife to his Father—Visit
to Whittlesey—He receives Orders
To return to America under Sir Edward
Pakenham 209

XXII. Sails with Sir Edward Pakenham on the
Expedition against New Orleans—Reverse
of 8th January, 1815, and Death of
Pakenham—Sir John Lambert succeeds to
the Command, appoints Harry Smith his
Military Secretary, and withdraws the
Force 226

XXIII. Capture of Fort Bowyer—Disembarcation
on Ile Dauphine—End of the American
War—Visit to Havana and Return-Voyage
to England—News of Napoleon’s Return
to Power—Harry Smith at his Home at
Whittlesey 248

XXIV. Harry Smith and his Wife start together
for the Waterloo Campaign—Ghent—Battle
of Waterloo 263

XXV. Juana’s Story 281

XXVI. March to Paris—Harry Smith Quartermaster-General
of the Reserve—He
becomes Lieut.-Colonel and C.B.—The 6th
Division moved from Neuilly to St. Germain—the
Duc de Berri as a Sportsman—On
the Reduction of the 6th Division Harry
Smith rejoins his Regiment as Captain—March
to Cambray—He is made Major de
Place of that Town 290

XXVII. Cambray, 1816-1818—Sport and Gaiety—The
Duke of Wellington—Harry Smith receives
a Visit from his Father 301

XXVIII. Return to England (1818)—Harry Smith rejoins
his Regiment—Shorncliffe—Gosport—Discharge
of the Peninsular Veterans 317

XXIX. Glasgow (1819-1825)—Radical Disturbances—Harry
Smith once more on the Staff as
Major of Brigade—George IV.’s Visit to
Edinburgh—Harry Smith revisits Paris—He
rejoins his Regiment in Ireland 324

XXX. 1825-1828: Harry Smith accompanies his
Regiment to Nova Scotia—Sir James Kempt—Harry
Smith parts with his old Regiment
On Being Appointed Deputy Quartermaster-General
in Jamaica—He has to deal with
an Epidemic of Yellow Fever among the
Troops—Appointed Deputy Quartermaster-General
at the Cape of Good Hope 338

XXXI. After staying Three Weeks at Nassau,
Harry Smith and his Wife sail for England,
and after a Miserable Voyage land
at Liverpool—He visits London and
Whittlesey, and leaves England (1829),
not to return till 1847 351

XXXII. Voyage to the Cape—Military Duties and
Sport, 1829-1834—Sir Benjamin D’Urban
succeeds Sir Lowry Cole as Governor of
the Colony 359

XXXIII. Outbreak of a Kafir War—Harry Smith’s
Historic Ride to Grahamstown—On his
Arrival he proclaims Martial Law—Provides
for the Defence of the Town—Attacks
the Kafirs and rescues Seven
Missionaries 369

XXXIV. Harry Smith Chief of the Staff under Sir
Benjamin D’Urban—He makes Two Forays
into the Fish River Bush and One into
the Umdizini Bush—The Force under Sir
B. D’Urban marches from Fort Willshire
to the Poorts of the Buffalo, from
whence Harry Smith makes another Foray 382

XXXV. Over the Kei into Hintza’s Territory—War
declared against Hintza—His Kraal
being destroyed the Chief comes in, and
agrees to the Terms of Peace—He
remains as a Hostage with the British
Force, which marches back to the Kei—Harry
Smith marches under Hintza’s
Guidance into his Territory to recover
the Stolen Cattle—Near the Xabecca
Hintza tries to escape, and is shot 390

XXXVI. March across the Bashee to the Umtata
and back to the Bashee—Death of Major
White—Difficult March from the Bashee
to rejoin Sir B. D’Urban on the Kei—Annexation
of the Territory called
the “Province of Queen Adelaide,” and
Founding of its Capital, “King William’s
Town”—Return of the Governor to
Grahamstown 408

XXXVII. Harry Smith left in Command of the New
“Province of Queen Adelaide” at King
William’s Town—Death of Lieutenant
Bailie—Harry Smith joined by his Wife—Forays
on the Kafirs—Conclusion of
Peace 420

XXXVIII. Harry Smith’s Attempts at civilizing the
Kafirs—The Chiefs made British Magistrates—A
Census taken—A Police Force
established—A Great Meeting of Chiefs—Witchcraft
forbidden—A Chief punished
for Disobedience—A Rebellious
Chief awed into Submission—Agriculture
and Commerce introduced—Nakedness
discountenanced—Burial of the Dead
encouraged—Buying of Wives checked—Hopes
of a General Conversion to Christianity 430

XXXIX. Lord Glenelg orders the Abandonment
of the Province of Queen Adelaide, and
appoints Captain Stockenstrom to succeed
Harry Smith on the Frontier—Grief of
the Kafirs at the Change—Journey of
Harry Smith and his Wife to Cape Town—He
is exonerated by Lord Glenelg,
and receives Testimonials for his Services
to the Colony—Leaves Cape Town
June, 1840, on being appointed Adjutant-General
of the Queen’s Army in India 452

XL. Voyage from Cape Town to Calcutta—Harry
Smith’s Disappointment at not
receiving the Command in the Afghan
War—His Criticism of the Operations 469

XLI. Sir Hugh Gough succeeds Sir Jasper Nicolls
as Commander-in-Chief in India—Affairs
in Gwalior—Battle of Maharajpore—Harry
Smith made K.C.B. 480

XLII. Affairs in the Punjaub—Sir Henry Hardinge
Succeeds Lord Ellenborough as
Governor-General—Outbreak of the
First Sikh War—Battle of Moodkee 497

XLIII. Battle of Ferozeshah (or Ferozeshuhur)
21st December, 1845, and Resumed Battle
of 22nd December—The Army moves into
Position at Sobraon 507

XLIV. Sir Harry Smith detached from the Main
Army—He reduces the Fortresses of
Futteyghur and Dhurmcote—Combines
with Colonel Phillips at Jugraon, and
after changing his Route To Loodiana
encounters the Enemy at Budowal, and
loses Some Part of his Baggage—He relieves
Loodiana, and, being reinforced
and the Enemy having retreated, occupies
his Position at Budowal 523

XLV. The Battles of Aliwal and Sobraon—End
of Sir Harry Smith’s Autobiography 536

XLVI. (_Supplementary._) Honours and Rewards, and
Knitting of Old Friendships 554

XLVII. (_Supplementary._) In England once more—A
Series of Ovations—London, Ely, Whittlesey,
Cambridge—Appointed Governor
of the Cape of Good Hope 571

XLVIII. (_Supplementary._) South Africa in 1847—Sir
Harry’s Reception at Cape Town and on
the Frontier—End of the Kafir War—Extension
of the Boundaries of the
Colony and Establishment of the Province
of “British Kaffraria”—Visit to
the Country beyond the Orange and to
Natal—Proclamation of the “Orange
River Sovereignty”—Triumphant Return
to Cape Town—Disaffection among the
Boers in the Sovereignty—Expedition
thither and Battle of Boomplaats—Return
to Cape Town 582

XLIX. (_Supplementary._) The Question of the Establishment
of a Representative Assembly
in the Cape Colony—The Convict Question—Kafir
War—Recall of Sir Harry
Smith—His Departure from the Cape 609

L. (_Supplementary._) Again in England—Last
Years, 1852-1860 652

APPENDIX I.—Diary of the Expedition to Monte
Video, etc., 1806-7 691

APPENDIX II.—Some Family Letters preserved by
Harry Smith with Particular Care 700

APPENDIX III.—Memorandum addressed to Sir B.
D’Urban on the Diet and Treatment of
Soldiers in Confinement 715

APPENDIX IV.—Extracts from Harry Smith’s Letters
to his Wife during the Kafir War, 1835 718

APPENDIX V.—Address of Colonel Smith to the
Caffer Chiefs, 7th January, 1836 760

APPENDIX VI.—Extracts from Sir Harry Smith’s
Letters from India, to his Sister, Mrs.
Sargant 766

APPENDIX VII.—Sir Harry Smith’s Recall from the
Cape—

A. _Earl Grey’s Despatch_ 782
B. _Sir Harry Smith’s “Memoranda” in Reply_ 787

APPENDIX VIII.—Sir Harry Smith’s Paternal and
Maternal Ancestry 794

INDEX 795

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Sir Harry Smith _Frontispiece_
(_From a picture painted by Levin about 1856._)

Sir Harry Smith’s Birthplace, Whittlesey _To face p._ 156
(_From a photograph by A. Gray, Whittlesey, 1900._)

Juana Smith " 218
(_From a picture painted in Paris in 1815._)

St. Mary’s, Whittlesey " 260
(_From a photograph by A. Gray, Whittlesey, 1900._)

Lieut.-Colonel Harry Smith " 294
(_From a picture painted in Paris in 1815._)

John Smith (Sir Harry Smith’s Father) " 314
(_From a picture painted by J. P. Hunter in 1837._)

Cape Town and Table Mountain " 370
(_From a lithograph, 1832._)

Map to illustrate the Sutlej Campaign, 1845-6 " 498

Plan of the Battle of Aliwal " 536

“Aliwal,” Sir Harry Smith’s Charger " 576
(_From a picture painted by A. Cooper, R.A., 1847._)

Government House, Cape Town " 584
(_From a lithograph, 1832._)

Map of South Africa, 1847-1854 " 594

Plan of the Field of Action at Boomplaats " 600

Map of the Eastern Frontier of the Colony
of the Cape of Good Hope (Seat of the
Kafir War, 1850-1853) _To face p._ 620

Lady Smith " 658
(_From a drawing by Julian C. Brewer, 1854._)

Sir Harry’s Chapel (in St. Mary’s Church, Whittlesey) " 684
(_From a water-colour by Mrs. B. S. Ward._)

_On the Cover._

Arms granted to Sir Harry Smith in 1846.

They are thus described by Sir Bernard Burke:—

Arms—Argent, on a chevron between two martlets in chief gules,
and upon a mount vert in base, an elephant proper, a
fleur-de-lis between two lions rampant, of the first: from
the centre-chief, pendant by a riband, gules, fimbriated
azure, a representation of the Waterloo medal.

Crest—Upon an Eastern crown or, a lion rampant argent,
supporting a lance proper; therefrom flowing to the
sinister, a pennon gules, charged with two palm-branches, in
saltier, or.

The supporters are a soldier of the Rifle Brigade and a soldier
of the 52nd Regiment.

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Lt.-Gen. Sir Harry Smith,

BARONET OF ALIWAL, G.C.B.

CHAPTER I.

MONTE VIDEO AND BUENOS AYRES.

1806-7.

_Written in Glasgow in 1824._—H. G. Smith.

I was born in the parish of Whittlesea and county of Cambridgeshire
in the year [1787]. I am one of eleven children, six sons and five
daughters. Every pains was taken with my education which my father
could afford, and I was taught natural philosophy, classics, algebra,
and music.[5]

In 1804 the whole country was _en masse_ collected in arms as
volunteers from the expected invasion of the French, and being now
sixteen years of age, I was received into the Whittlesea troop of
Yeomanry Cavalry, commanded by Captain Johnson. During this year the
Yeomanry in the neighbourhood patrolled through Norman Cross Barracks,
where 15,000 French prisoners were kept, when the Frenchmen laughed
exceedingly at the young dragoon, saying, “I say, leetel fellow, go
home with your mamma; you most eat more pudding.” In the spring of
1805 the Whittlesea Yeomanry kept the ground at a review made by
Brigadier-General Stewart (now Sir W. Stewart), when I was orderly
to the General, who said, “Young gentleman, would you like to be an
officer?” “Of all things,” was my answer. “Well, I will make you a
Rifleman, a green jacket,” says the General, “and very smart.” I assure
you the General kept his word, and upon the 15th [8th?] May, 1805,
I was gazetted second lieutenant in the 95th Regiment Riflemen,[6]
and joined at Brabourne Lees upon the 18th of August. A vacancy of
lieutenant occurring for purchase, my father kindly advanced the money,
and I was gazetted lieutenant the 15th September [August?], 1805. This
fortunate purchase occurred when the 2nd Battalion of the corps was
raising and the officers had not been appointed, by which good luck
twenty-seven steps were obtained by £100.

In the summer of 1806 a detachment of three Companies was directed
to proceed from the 2nd Battalion of the corps from Faversham to
Portsmouth, there to embark and form part of an army about to proceed
to South America under the command of Sir Samuel Auchmuty. This
detachment was under the command of Major Gardner, and I was appointed
Adjutant, a great honour for so young an officer.[7] The army sailed
for America, touching at Plymouth, Falmouth, Peak of Teneriffe, and Rio
Janeiro, at which place it stayed one week to take in water, stores,
etc., and, covered by the detachment of Riflemen, landed within a few
miles of Monte Video upon the 16th of January, 1807. Some skirmishing
took place the whole day with the light troops of the enemy. Upon the
17th and 18th the army halted for the artillery, stores, etc., to be
landed. The outposts (Riflemen) were employed both of these days.

Upon the 19th the army moved forward, and a general action took
place, the result of which was most favourable to the British, and a
position was taken up in the suburbs of Monte Video. Upon the 20th
the garrison made a most vigorous sortie in three columns, and drove
in our outposts, and a heavy and general attack lasted for near two
hours, when the enemy were driven to the very walls of the place. The
Riflemen were particularly distinguished on this occasion.

The siege of Monte Video was immediately commenced, and upon
the morning of the 3rd of February, the breach being considered
practicable, a general assault was ordered in two columns, the one upon
the breach, the other an escalade. Both ultimately succeeded. Not a
defence was destroyed nor a gun dismounted upon the works. The breach
was only wide enough for three men to enter abreast, and when upon the
top of the breach there was a descent into the city of twelve feet.
Most of the men fell, and many were wounded by each other’s bayonets.
When the head of the column entered the breach, the main body lost
its communications or was checked by the tremendous fire. Perceiving
the delay, I went back and conducted the column to the breach, when
the place was immediately taken. The slaughter in the breach was
enormous owing to the defence being perfect, and its not being really
practicable. The surrender of this fortress put the English in the
possession of this part of the country.

I was now afflicted with a most severe fever and dysentery, and owe
my life to the kind attentions of a Spanish family in whose house I
was billeted. My own relations could not have treated me with greater
kindness. My gratitude to them can never be expressed or sufficiently
appreciated.[8]

In the autumn[9] an outpost was established on the same side of the
river as Monte Video, but nearly opposite to Buenos Ayres, at Colonia
del Sacramento. This had formerly belonged to the Portuguese. It was
situated on a neck of land, and a mud wall was carried from water to
water. There were no guns up, and in one place a considerable breach.
One particular night a column of Spaniards which had crossed the
river from Buenos Ayres stormed this post, and were near carrying it
by surprise had it not been for the valour of Scott and his guard
of Riflemen, who most bravely defended the breach until the troops
got under arms. The enemy were not pursued, as their numbers were
not known and the night was dark. Why this breach was not repaired
one cannot say, except that in those days our commanders understood
little of the art of war, and sat themselves down anywhere in a state
of blind security without using every means to strengthen their posts.
Experience taught us better.

The enemy did not re-cross the river, but took up a position about
fourteen miles from Colonia, in which Colonel Pack (afterwards Sir
Denis Pack), who commanded the British force, resolved to attack them.
The column consisted of three companies of Riflemen, the 40th Regiment,
two 6-pounders, and three light companies. It marched upon the night
of [6-7 June], and arrived in sight of the enemy at daylight in the
morning. They were drawn up on an elevated piece of ground, with a
narrow but deep, muddy, and miry river in their front. Their cavalry
formed a right angle upon the right of their infantry and they had
seven guns upon the left. The Rifle Brigade covered the troops whilst
crossing the rivulet, and in about twenty minutes by a rapid advance
the position was carried, the enemy leaving behind him his guns, tents,
stores, etc., with a great quantity of ammunition. In the destroying
of the latter poor Major Gardner and fourteen soldiers suffered most
dreadfully from an explosion. Some flints had been scattered upon the
field; the soldiers took the shot to break the cartridges, and thus
the whole blew up. About two hundred shells also exploded. The army at
a short distance lay down, and not an individual was touched. Colonel
Pack, with his army, the captured guns, etc., returned to Colonia in
the evening.[10]

A considerable force having arrived under General Whitelock, who took
the command, the army was remodelled and embarked in August [really on
the 17th of June], 1807, to attack Buenos Ayres. The post of Colonia
was abandoned, and the three companies of the 2nd Battalion Rifle
Brigade were embodied with five of the 1st just arrived from England,
and I was appointed adjutant of the whole under the command of Major
McLeod. The army landed upon [28 June], and was divided into two
columns, the one consisting of the light troops under General Craufurd,
and of a heavy brigade, the whole under Major-General Leveson-Gower.
[Some uncomplimentary epithets are here omitted.] His column was one
day in advance of the main body commanded by General Whitelock in
person. His orders were to march up to the enemy’s outposts and take
up a position. In place of obeying his orders, General Leveson-Gower
immediately attacked the enemy in the suburbs of Buenos Ayres, and
drove them in with great loss, leaving their cannon behind them.
Having thus committed himself, in lieu of following up the advantage
he had gained and pushing forward into Buenos Ayres, which would have
immediately surrendered, he halted his column and took up a position.
The enemy recovered from his panic, and with the utmost vigour turned
to and fortified the entrances of all the streets. (Buenos Ayres is
perfectly open on the land side, but has a citadel of some strength
within the town and upon the river. The houses are all flat-roofed,
with a parapet of about three feet high.) The day after the affair
alluded to, General Whitelock with his column arrived. The next day
he reconnoitred the enemy, drove in their outposts, and partially
invested the city. Some very heavy skirmishing took place in the
enclosures, the fences consisting of aloe hedges, very difficult to get
through, but making excellent breastworks. The Rifle Corps particularly
distinguished themselves.

Upon the [5 July] the whole army attacked in four columns. The men were
ordered to advance without flints in their musquets, and crowbars,
axes, etc., were provided at the head of the column to break open the
doors, which were most strongly barricaded. It must be stated that
the streets of Buenos Ayres run at right angles from each other. Each
street was cut off by a ditch and a battery behind it. Thus the troops
were exposed to a cross fire. The tops of the houses were occupied by
troops, and such a tremendous fire was produced of grape, canister, and
musquetry, that in a short time two columns were nearly annihilated
without effecting any impression. The column I belonged to, under
Brigadier-General Craufurd, after severe loss, took refuge in a church,
and about dusk in the evening surrendered to the enemy. Thus terminated
one of the most sanguinary conflicts Britons were ever engaged in,
and all owing to the stupidity of the General-in-chief and General
Leveson-Gower. Liniers, a Frenchman by birth, who commanded, treated
us prisoners tolerably well, but he had little to give us to eat,
his citadel not being provisioned for a siege. We were three or four
days in his hands, when, in consequence of the disgraceful convention
entered into by General Whitelock, who agreed within two months to
evacuate the territory altogether and to give up the fortress of Monte
Video, we were released. The army re-embarked with all dispatch and
sailed to Monte Video. Our wounded suffered dreadfully, many dying from
slight wounds in the extremity of lockjaw.

The division of troops I belonged to sailed upon [12 July], under
the command of Brigadier-General Lumley. I confess I parted from
the kind Spanish family, who during my illness had treated me with
such paternal kindness, with feelings of the deepest sorrow and most
lively gratitude. The old lady offered me her daughter in marriage and
$20,000, with as many thousand oxen as I wished, and she would build me
a house in the country upon any plan I chose to devise.

Now that I am brought to leave the fertile plains of the Plate, let
me make some little mention of its climate, soil, and productions.
Its summer is, of course, in January; during this time it is very
hot. Still you have a sea breeze and a land breeze, which is very
refreshing. During the rainy seasons the weather is very tempestuous.
The climate altogether is, however, most mild and salubrious. Corn of
all descriptions grows with the least possible care. The fertile grass
plains are immense. The country is not a dead flat, but undulated like
the great Atlantic a few days after a gale of wind. Upon these plains
thousands of oxen and horses are grazing; they are so thick that were
an individual ever entangled amongst them he would be lost as in a
wood. These animals are, however, all the property of individuals,
and not wild as supposed, and each horse and ox is branded. You could
buy a most excellent horse for two dollars (I gave ten for one, he
being very handsome, which was a price unheard of before), a cow and
calf one dollar, a pair of draft oxen five (they are thus dear in
consequence of being trained). The country abounds in all sorts of
wild fowl and innumerable wild dogs, which nature must have provided
to eat the carcases of the slaughtered cattle, many of which are
killed merely for their hides, a few of the prime pieces alone being
made use of for food. The marrow is usually also taken and rendered
into bladders, with which they cook everything, using it, in short,
as we use butter, which makes their dishes very palatable. The native
inhabitants, called “peons,” or labourers, are a very superior race of
men, almost Patagonians, are beautiful horsemen, and have a peculiar
art of catching horses and oxen by what is termed the “lasso.” This
is a leathern thong of about thirty feet resembling the lash of a
hunting-whip. An iron ring is at one end, through which the other end
is passed, by which means a noose is formed; the end is then fastened
to the girths of the horse. The lasso is collected in the man’s hand,
he swings it circularly round his head, and when the opportunity
offers, he throws it over the head of the animal he wishes to catch. He
is sure of his aim; the noose draws tight round the animal’s throat,
and he is of course choked, and down he drops.

In killing bullocks they are very dexterous. The moment the bullock
finds himself caught he begins to gallop round; the end being fast
to the saddle, the horse turns gradually round so that he is not
entangled. A second peon with his lasso gallops after the bullock, and
throws his lasso round the hind leg above the hough and rides in a
contrary direction to the other horseman, consequently the bullock is
stretched between the two horses. The riders jump off and plunge their
knives into the bullock, and other persons are employed to dress it,
etc.

The fleet separated in a gale of wind off the Azores. During this gale
the transport I was in carried away its rudder. Our captain had kept so
bad a reckoning we ran four hundred miles after he expected to make
the Lizard. In the chops of the Channel we fell in with the _Swallow_,
sloop of war, to whom we made a signal of distress, and she towed us
into Falmouth Harbour [5 Nov.]. It blew the most tremendous gale of
wind that night. A transport with the 9th Dragoons aboard was wrecked
near the Lizard, and this would inevitably have been our fate had we
not been towed in by the sloop of war. The rudder was repaired, we
were driven into Plymouth, and in the middle of December anchored at
Spithead, where we delighted to have arrived. However, to our great
mortification, we were ordered to the Downs, there to disembark.

I obtained leave of absence, and was soon in the arms of a most
affectionate family, who dearly loved me. My mother’s delight I shall
never forget. There are feelings we possess in our youth which cannot
be described. I was then only nineteen. My brothers and sisters were
all well, and every moment called to my recollection some incident of
juvenile delight and affection.

CHAPTER II.

WITH SIR JOHN MOORE—BATTLE OF CORUÑA.

1808-9.

I stayed in this happy land of my sires for two months, when I was
ordered to join. The Regiment was then quartered at Colchester.
Although there were many subalterns present who were senior to me,
I had given to me, for my exertions abroad as Adjutant, the command
of a Company. This was the act of my kind and valued friend Colonel
Beckwith, whom I shall have occasion frequently to mention in these
memoirs, but never without feelings of affection and gratitude. The
Company was in very bad order when I received it, which Colonel
Beckwith told me was the reason he gave it me. I now procured a
commission for my brother Tom, who was gazetted over the heads of
several other candidates.

In the summer [spring] of 1808 10,000 men were ordered to Sweden under
the command of Sir J. Moore. Three Companies of the Rifle Brigade
under Major Gilmour were to form part of the expedition. By dint of
great exertion I was appointed Adjutant to this detachment. We marched
to Harwich to embark. When the fleet was collected, we anchored a
few days in Yarmouth roads. The fleet arrived at Gottenburgh [on 7
May], blowing a heavy gale of wind. The harbour of this place is most
beautiful. The army never landed, but the men were drilled, embarking
and disembarking in flat-bottomed boats. I jumped against three
regiments, 95th, 43rd, and 52nd, and beat them by four inches, having
leaped 19 feet and 4 inches.

_Commenced at Simla, Himalayas, 11th Aug. 1844_—H.G.S.

At this period Napoleon announced his unjust invasion of Spain, and
Sir John Moore’s army was ordered to sail and unite with the forces
collecting on the coast of Portugal for the purpose of expelling
Junot’s army from Lisbon. On approaching the mouth of the Mondego, a
frigate met us to say Sir Arthur Wellesley’s army had landed in Mondego
and pushed forward, and that Sir John Moore was to sail for Peniche,
and there land on arrival. The battle of Vimiera had been fought [21
Aug. 1808], and the Convention was in progress. Sir John Moore’s army
landed one or two days after the battle and took the outposts. The
three Companies to which I was Adjutant joined Colonel Beckwith and the
headquarters of the Regiment, and I was appointed to Captain O’Hare’s
Company (subalterns Smith, W. Eeles, Eaton).

After the embarcation of the French army, an army was formed under Sir
John Moore for the aid of the Spaniards, and it moved on the frontier
of Alemtejo.

The 95th were quartered in Villa Viciosa, in an elegant palace. I
occupied a beautiful little room with a private staircase, called the
Hall of Justice. I was sent by Sir Edward Paget to examine the fort
Xuramenha and report upon it, the fords of the Guadiana, etc., near the
important fortress of Badajos.

In the autumn of this year (1808), Sir John Moore’s army moved on
Salamanca. As I could speak Spanish, I was employed by Colonel
Beckwith to precede the Regiment daily to aid the Quartermaster in
procuring billets and rations in the different towns, and various
were the adventures I met with. The army was assembled at Salamanca,
and never did England assemble such a body of organized and elegant
troops as that army of Sir John Moore, destined to cover itself with
glory, disgrace, victory, and misfortune. The whole of this campaign
is too ably recorded by Napier for me to dwell on. I shall only
say that never did corps so distinguish itself during the whole of
this retreat as my dear old Rifles. From the severe attack on our
rear-guard at Calcavellos [3 Jan. 1809], where I was particularly
distinguished, until the battle of Coruña, we were daily engaged with
a most vigorous and pushing enemy, making most terrific long marches
(one day 37 miles). The fire of the Riflemen ever prevented the column
being molested by the enemy; but the scenes of drunkenness, riot, and
disorder we Reserve Division witnessed on the part of the rest of the
army are not to be described; it was truly awful and heartrending to
see that army which had been so brilliant at Salamanca so totally
disorganized, with the exception of the reserve under the revered Paget
and the Brigade of Guards. The cavalry were nearly all dismounted, the
whole a mass of fugitives and insubordinates; yet these very fellows
licked the French at Coruña like men [16 Jan.]. The army embarked the
following day. I shall never forget the explosion of a fortress blown
up by us—the report cannot be imagined. Oh, the filthy state we were
all in! We lost our baggage at Calcavellos; for three weeks we had no
clothes but those on our backs; we were literally covered and almost
eaten up with vermin, most of us suffering from ague and dysentery,
every man a living still active skeleton. On embarcation many fell
asleep in their ships and never awoke for three days and nights,
until in a gale we reached Portsmouth [21 Jan.]. I was so reduced
that Colonel Beckwith, with a warmth of heart equalling the thunder
of his voice, on meeting me in the George Inn, roared out, “Who the
devil’s ghost are you? Pack up your kit—which is soon done, the devil
a thing have you got—take a place in the coach, and set off home to
your father’s. I shall soon want again such fellows as you, and I will
arrange your leave of absence!” I soon took the hint, and naked and
slothful and covered with vermin I reached my dear native home, where
the kindest of fathers and most affectionate of mothers soon restored
me to health.[11]

CHAPTER III.

BACK TO THE PENINSULA UNDER SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY.

1809.

In two months I rejoined the Regiment at Hythe. From Hythe we marched
for Dover, where we embarked for Lisbon [25 May] to join the Duke’s[12]
army. Having landed at Lisbon, we commenced our march for Talavera. On
this march—a very long one—General Craufurd compiled his orders for
the march of his Brigade, consisting of the 43rd, 52nd, and 95th, each
upwards of 1000 strong. These orders he enforced with rigour (as it
seemed at the moment), but he was in this way the means of establishing
the organization and discipline of that corps which acquired for it its
after-celebrity as the “Light Division.”

We had some long, harassing, and excessively hot marches. In the last
twenty-eight hours we marched from Oropesa to Talavera, a distance
of fourteen Spanish leagues (56 miles), our soldiers carrying their
heavy packs, the Riflemen eighty rounds of ammunition. But the
battle of Talavera was thundering in our ears, and created a spirit
in the Brigade which cast away all idea of fatigue. We reached the
sanguinary field at daylight after the battle [29 July], greeted as if
we were demi-gods by all the gallant heroes who had gained _such_ a
victory. We took up the outposts immediately, and some of us Riflemen
sustained some heavy skirmishing. The field was literally covered
with dead and dying. The bodies began to putrefy, and the stench was
horrible, so that an attempt was made to collect the bodies and burn
them. Then, however, came a stench which literally affected many to
sickness. The soldiers were not satisfied with this mode of treating
the bodies of their dead comrades, and the prosecution of the attempt
was relinquished. After our stay at Talavera [29 July-3 Aug.], during
which we were nearly starved, the army commenced its retreat, passing
the bridge of Arzobispo in the most correct and soldier-like manner,
our Brigade forming the rear-guard. The army retired on Deleytosa,
the Light Brigade remaining in a position so as to watch the bridge
of Almaraz. Here for three weeks we were nearly starved [6 Aug.-20
Aug.], and our position received the name of Doby Hill.[13] We marched
every evening and bivouacked so as to occupy the passage of the
Tagus, and at daylight returned to our hill. Honey was plentiful, but
it gave dysentery. My mess—Leach’s Company (Leach, Smith, Layton, and
Bob Beckwith)—were not as badly off as our neighbours. We had a few
dollars, and as I could speak Spanish, I rode into the lines of the
Spanish troops, where I could always purchase some loaves of bread
at a most exorbitant price. With this and some horrid starved goats
we lived tolerably for soldiers in hard times. The army retired into
quarters—the headquarters to Badajos, our Division (which had added to
it Sir Rufane Donkin’s Brigade, the 45th, 87th, and 88th Regiments) to
Campo Mayor [11 Sept.], where sickness and mortality commenced to an
awful extent. On our reaching the frontier of Portugal, Castello de
Vidi, wine was plentiful, and every man that evening had his skin full.

During the period we were at Campo Mayor [11 Sept.-12 Dec.], the Hon.
Captain James Stewart and I got some excellent greyhounds. We were
always out coursing or shooting, and were never sick a day; our more
sedentary comrades many of them distressingly so. The seven right-hand
men of Leslie’s Company died in the winter of this year.

While at Campo Mayor the convalescents of my Light Brigade were
ordered to our old fortress, called Onguala, on the immediate frontier
of Portugal, and opposite to Abuchucha, the frontier of Spain. They
consisted of forty or fifty weakly men. I was first for Brigade duty,
and I was sent in command, with a Lieut. Rentall of the 52nd Regiment
and my brother Tom, who was sick. I knew this country well, for we had
had some grand battues there, and shot red deer and wild boars. So
soon, therefore, as I was installed in my command, lots of comrades
used to come from Campo Mayor to breakfast with me and shoot all day.
On one occasion Jack Molloy, Considine, and several fellows came, and
while out we fell into the bivouac of a set of banditti and smugglers.
We hallooed and bellowed as if an army were near us. The bandits jumped
on their horses and left lots of corn-sacks, etc., in our hands; but
on discovering our numbers, and that we fired no balls (for we had
only some Rifle buttons pulled off my jacket), being well armed, they
soon made us retreat. This, after my friends returned to Campo Mayor,
so disconcerted me that I made inquiry about these same rascals, and
ascertained there were a body of about twenty under a Catalan, the
terror of the country. I immediately sent for my sergeant (a soldier
in every sense of the word) to see how many of our convalescents he
could pick out who could _march at all_. He soon returned. He himself
and ten men, myself, Rentall, and my sick brother Tom (who _would_
go) composed my army. I got a guide, and ascertained that there were
several haunts of these bandits; so off I started. We moved on a small
chapel (many of which lone spots there are in all Roman Catholic
countries), at which there was a large stable. On approaching we heard
a shot fired, then a great and lawless shouting, which intimated to
us our friends of the morning were near at hand. So Pat Nann and I
crept on to peep about. We discovered the fellows were all inside a
long stable, with a railed gate shut, and a regular sentry with his
arms in his hand. They were all about and had lights, and one very
dandy-looking fellow with a smart dagger was cutting tobacco to make
a cigar. Pat and I returned to our party and made a disposition of
attack, previously ascertaining if the stable had a back door, which it
had not. I then fell in our men very silently, Mr. Rentall being much
opposed to our attack, at which my brother Tom blew him up in no bad
style of whispering abuse, and our men went for the gate. The sentry
soon discovered us and let fly, but hit no one. The gate was fast and
resisted two attempts to force it, but so amazed were the bandits, they
[never] attempted to get away their horses, although their arms were
regularly piled against the supports of the roof of the stable, and
we took twelve banditti with their captain, a fine handsome fellow,
horses, etc. His dagger I sent to my dear father. I sent my prisoners
on the next day to Campo Mayor, galloping ahead myself, in an awful
funk lest General Craufurd should blow me up. However, I got great
credit for my achievement in thus ridding the neighbourhood of a nest
of robbers; and the captain and five of his men (being Spaniards) were
sent to Badajos and sentenced to the galleys for life, being recognized
as old offenders. The remainder received a lesser punishment. My men
got forty Spanish dollars each prize money, the amount I sold the
horses for. I bought for forty dollars the captain’s capital horse. The
men wanted me to keep him as my share, but I would not. Dr. Robb, our
surgeon, gave sixty Spanish dollars for a black mare. Thus ended the
Battle of the Bandits.

CHAPTER IV.

CAMPAIGN OF 1810—THE 1ST GERMAN HUSSARS.

In the winter of this year [12 Dec. 1809] we marched towards the
northern frontier of Portugal. We marched towards Almeida, and were
cantoned in villages to its rear—Alameda, Villa de Lobos, Fequenas, not
far from the Douro. Here too was good shooting and coursing; but I was
not permitted to be idle. We moved into Spain [19 Mar. 1810], and at
Barba del Puerco had a most brilliant night attack, in which Colonel
Beckwith greatly distinguished himself.

At Villa de Ciervo a detachment of one sergeant and twelve Hussars
(1st German) were given me by General Craufurd to go right in among
the French army, which had moved on Ciudad Rodrigo and then retired.
Many are the hairbreadth escapes my Hussars and I had, for we were very
daring; we were never two nights in the same place. One night at Villa
de Ciervo, where we were watching a ford over the Agueda, two of my
vedettes (two Poles elegantly mounted) deserted to the enemy. The old
sergeant, a noble soldier, came to me in great distress. “O mein Gott,
upstand and jump up your horse; _she_ will surely be here _directly_!”
I was half asleep, with my horse’s reins in my hand, and roared out,
“Who the devil is _she_?” “The Franzosen, mein Herr. Two d——d schelms
have deserted.” So we fell back to the rear of the village, sitting
on our horses the remainder of the night, every moment expecting the
weakness of our party would cause an attempt to cut us off. At daylight
we saw fifty French dragoons wending their way on the opposite bank to
the ford. I immediately got hold of the _padre_ and _alcalde_ (priest
and magistrate), and made them collect a hundred villagers and make
them shoulder the long sticks with which they drive their bullock-carts
and ploughs, which of course at a distance would resemble bayonets.
These villagers I stationed in two parties behind two hills, so that
the “bayonets” alone could be seen by the enemy. Then with my sergeant
and ten Hussars (two having deserted) I proceeded to meet the enemy,
first riding backwards and forwards behind a hill to deceive him as to
my numbers. The French sent over the river about half their number. I
immediately galloped up to them in the boldest manner, and skirmished
advancing. The enemy were deceived and rapidly retired, and I saved
the village from an unmerciful ransacking, to the joy of all the poor
people.

At this period General Craufurd had officers at two or three of the
most advanced vedettes where there were beacons, who had orders to
watch the enemy with their telescopes, and, in case of any movement,
to report or fire the beacon. I was on this duty in rather a remote
spot on the extreme left of our posts. The vedette was from the 1st
Hussar picquet. These men would often observe a patrol or body of
the enemy with the naked eye which was barely discernible through a
telescope, so practised were they and watchful. Towards the evening my
servant ought to have arrived with my dinner (for we officers of the
look-out could take nothing with us but our horse and our telescope),
but he must have missed his way, and as my appetite was sharpened by a
day’s look-out, I began to look back, contrary to the vedette’s idea of
due vigilance. He asks, “What for Mynheer so much look to de rear?” I,
sad at the fast, “Hussar, you are relieved every two hours. I have been
here since daylight. I am confounded hungry, and am looking out for my
servant and my dinner.” “Poor yonge mans! but ’tis notings.” “Not to
you,” said I, “but much to me.” “You shall see, sir. I shall come off
my horse, you shall up clim, or de French shall come if he see not de
vedette all right.” Knowing the provident habits of these Germans, I
suspected what he was about. Off he got; up get I _en vedette_. With
the greatest celerity, he unbuckled his valise from behind his saddle,
and took out a piece of bacon (I had kept up a little fire from the
sticks and bushes around me), from a cloth some ground coffee and
sugar, from his haversack some biscuit, and spread on the ground a
clean towel with knife, fork, and a little tin cup. He had water in
his canteen—his cooking-tin. He made me a cup of coffee, sliced some
bacon, broiled it in the embers, and in ten minutes coffee, bacon,
biscuit were ready and looked as clean as if in a London tavern. He
then says, “Come off.” Up he mounts, saying, “Can eat. All you sall
vant is de schnaps.” I fell to, and never relished any meal half so
much; appetite was perfect, and the ingenious, quick and provident
care of the Hussar added another to the many instances I had witnessed
of this regiment to make them be regarded, as indeed they were, as
exemplary soldiers for our emulation.

My servant soon after arrived. The contents of his haversack I
transferred to my kind friend the Hussar’s, and half the bottle of
wine, on which the Hussar remarked, “Ah, dat is good; the schnaps make
nice;” and my servant put up his valise again for him. I was highly
amused to observe the momentary glances the Hussar cast on me and my
meal, for no rat-catcher’s dog at a sink-hole kept a sharper look-out
to his front than did this vedette. In the whole course of my service I
never was more amused, and nothing could be more disinterested than the
Hussar’s conduct, which I never forgot.

CHAPTER V.

CAMPAIGN OF 1810—BATTLE OF THE COA.

Soon after this the French invested Ciudad Rodrigo, and regularly
commenced the siege. The Light Division (into which fell the three
regiments 43rd, 52nd, and two Battalions of Rifles, 1st and 3rd
Portuguese Caçadores, the latter under Elder, a most brilliant Rifle
officer), 1st Hussars, 14th Light Dragoons, 16th Light Dragoons
occupied Gallegos, Exejo, etc., our advanced post being at Marialva,
on the road to Ciudad Rodrigo. During the whole siege our alerts were
innumerable, and at Marialva we had several very smart skirmishes, but
so able were Craufurd’s dispositions, we never lost even a vedette.

The French were in the habit of patrolling over the Agueda with
cavalry and infantry, about 30 Dragoons and 200 foot. General Craufurd
determined to intercept one of these patrols [10 July], and [moved out
with] the cavalry, 1st Hussars, 14th and 16th Light Dragoons, and Light
Division. It may now be asked, Was it necessary to take out such a
force to intercept so small a party? Certainly. Because the enemy might
have crossed the Agueda to support the patrols. We were all moved to
where directed, the infantry were halted, some of the cavalry moved
on. At grey daylight the patrols of the enemy appeared, their Dragoons
some way in advance of the infantry. The patrol was very incautiously
conducted (not like our 1st Hussars), and the Dragoons were taken in
a moment. The infantry speedily retired to an eminence above the ford
and formed square. Craufurd ordered them to be attacked by the cavalry,
and several right good charges were made; but the French were steady,
the dead horses in their front became a defence, and our cavalry never
made the slightest impression. Craufurd never moved one of _us_. The
charges of cavalry ceased for a few seconds—the fields around were
high-standing corn. The gallant fellow in command gave the word, “Sauve
qui peut.” In a moment all dispersed, ran through the standing corn
down to the banks of the river, and were saved without the loss of a
man. The officer was promoted on his arrival in his camp.

Our loss was very considerable. Poor Colonel Talbot of the 14th
(commanding) killed, and a lot of men. I and Stewart, Adjutant of the
Rifle Brigade, asked leave to go ahead, and we saw it all. Indeed, it
was in sight of the whole division. Had two Companies of ours only been
moved to threaten the ford, the enemy would have laid down their arms.
Such a piece of soldiering as that morning presented the annals of war
cannot produce.[14]

While we were at a village called Valde Mula, in the neighbourhood of
Fort Concepcion, that most perfect little work was blown up [21 July].
It was the neatest fortification I ever saw (except the Moro in the
Havana subsequently), and the masonry was beautifully executed.

After the fall of Ciudad Rodrigo, which made a brilliant defence, our
advanced line fell back to the Dos Casas, and in front of Alameda we
had a brilliant affair with the French, in which Krauchenberg 1st
Hussars and McDonald Royal Artillery greatly distinguished themselves.
The 3rd Caçadores were this day first under fire, and behaved _nobly_.
After this our advanced posts were retired behind the Dos Casas to
cover Almeida. While Massena prepared his army to invade Portugal
and besiege Almeida, we were daily on the alert and had frequent
skirmishes. General Craufurd, too, by a variety of _ruses_ frequently
made the whole French army turn out.

In the early morning of the 24th of July (I was on picquet with Leach
and my Company that night) the enemy moved forward with 40,000 men. Our
force, one Brigade of Horse Artillery, three Regiments of cavalry, five
of infantry, were ordered by the Duke to remain as long as possible on
the right bank of the Coa, where there was a bridge over the river on
the road from Almeida into Portugal to Celerico and Pinhel, posting
ourselves between the fortress and the bridge, so as to pass over so
soon as the enemy advanced in force. In place of doing this, Craufurd
took up a position to our right of Almeida, and but for Colonel
Beckwith our whole force would have been sacrificed. Fortunately a
heavy rain had fallen, which made the Coa impassable except by the
bridge, which was in our possession, and the enemy concentrated his
force in one rush for the bridge [24 July].

During the Peninsular War there never was a more severe contest. The
43rd lost 17 officers and 150 men, my Regiment 10 officers and 140 men.
When we passed the bridge my section was the rear-guard of the whole,
and in a rush to drive back the enemy (with whom we were frequently
absolutely mixed), my brother Tom and I were both severely wounded,
and a Major Macleod, a noble fellow, afterwards killed at Badajos, put
me on his horse, or I should have been taken. The enemy made several
attempts to cross, but old Alister Cameron, Captain in the Rifle
Brigade, had posted his Company in a ruined house which commanded the
bridge, and mainly contributed to prevent the passage of the enemy, who
made some brilliant attempts. The bridge was literally piled with their
dead and they made breastworks of the bodies. On this day, on going to
the rear wounded, I first made the acquaintance of my dear friend Will
Havelock,[15] afterwards my whipper-in, who was joining the 43rd fresh
from England, with smart chako and jacket. I had a ball lodged in my
ankle-joint, a most painful wound. We were sent to Pinhel, where the
3rd Division was seven leagues from the action, the nearest _support_
(?). Sir Thomas Picton treated us wounded _en princes_.

The wounded were ordered to the rear, so as to embark on the Mondego
at Pinhel. In collecting transport for the wounded, a sedan chair
between two mules was brought, the property of some gentleman in the
neighbourhood, and, fortunately for me, I was the only person who
could ride in it, and by laying my leg on the one seat and sitting
on the other, I rode comparatively easy to the poor fellows in the
wretched bullock-cars, who suffered excruciating agony, poor brother
Tom (who was very severely wounded above the knee) among the rest. This
little story will show what wild fellows we were in those days. George
Simmons’ (1st Rifles) bullocks at one stage had run away. As I was the
spokesman, the surgeon in charge came to me in great distress. I sent
for the village magistrate, and actually fixed a rope in my room to
hang him if he did not get a pair of bullocks (if the Duke of W. had
known he would have hung _me_). However, the bullocks were got, and
off we started. The bullocks were not broken, and they ran away with
poor George and nearly jolted him to death, for he was awfully wounded
through the thick of the thigh. However, we all got down to Pinhel [31
July], and thence descended the Mondego by boats, landing every night.
At one house a landlord was most insolent to us, and Lieut. Pratt of
the Rifles, shot through the neck, got very angry. The carotid artery
must have been wounded, for it burst out in a torrent of blood, and he
was dead in a few seconds, to our horror, for he was a most excellent
fellow. On the same bed with me was a Captain Hull of the 43rd Regiment
with a similar wound. I never saw any man in such a funk.

On our reaching the mouth of the Mondego, we were put on board a
transport. In the ship with me was a stout little officer, 14th Light
Dragoons, severely wounded, whose thigh afterwards disgorged a French
6-lb. shot. On arrival in Lisbon [7 Aug.] we were billeted in Buenos
Ayres, poor Tom and I in awful agony in our miserable empty house.
However, we got books, and I, although suffering, got on well enough.
But poor Tom’s leg was in such an awful state he was sent home. George
Simmons’s wound healed.[16] My ball was lodged on my ankle-joint,
having partially divided the _tendo Achillis_. However, we heard of the
army having retired into the celebrated lines of Torres Vedras, and
nothing would serve us but _join the Regiment_. So our medical heroes
very unwillingly sent us off to Belem, the convalescent department
under Colonel Tucker, 29th Regiment, a sharp fellow enough. When I,
George Simmons, and Charlie Eeles, 3rd Battalion, just arrived sick
from Cadiz, waited on him to express our desire to join, he said, “Oh,
certainly; but you must be posted to do duty with convalescents going
up the country.” I was lame and could not walk. George Simmons cantered
on crutches, and Charlie Eeles was very sick. However, _go_ or _no
go_, and so we were posted to 600 villains of every Regiment in the
army under a long Major Ironmonger of the 88th (afterwards of Almeida
celebrity, when the garrison escaped). We marched in a day [7 Oct.]. On
the first day’s march he pretended to faint. George Simmons, educated a
surgeon, _literally_ threw a bucket of water over him.[17] He recovered
the faint, but not the desire to return; and the devil would have it,
the command devolved on me, a subaltern, for whom the soldiers of other
corps have no great respect, and such a task I never had as to keep
these six hundred rascals together. However, I had a capital English
horse, good at riding over an insubordinate fellow, and a voice like
thunder. The first bivouac I came to was the Guards (these men were
very orderly). The commanding officer had a cottage. I reported myself.
It was raining like the devil. He put his head out of the window, and I
said, “Sir, I have 150 men of your Regiment convalescent from Belem.”
“Oh, send for the Sergeant-major,” he very quietly said;—no “walk in
out of the rain.” So I roared out, “We _Light Division men_ don’t do
duty with Sergeant-majors, nor are we told to wait. There are your
men, every one—the only well-conducted men in 600 under my charge—and
these are their accounts!” throwing down a bundle of papers, and off
I galloped, to the Household man’s astonishment. That day I delivered
over, or sent by officers under me, all the vagabonds I had left. Some
of my own men and I reached our corps that night at Arruda, when old
Sydney Beckwith, dear Colonel, said, “You are a mad fool of a boy,
coming here with a ball in your leg. Can you dance?” “No,” says I; “I
can hardly walk but with my toe turned out.” “Can you be my A.D.C.?”
“Yes; I can ride and eat,” I said, at which he laughed, and was kind as
a brother; as was my dear friend Stewart, or Rutu, as we called him,
his Brigade Major, the actual Adjutant of the Regiment.

That very night General Craufurd sent for me, and said, “You have
come from Sobral, have you not, to-day, and know the road?” I said,
“Yesterday.” “Well, get your horse and take this letter to the Duke
for me when it is ready.” I did not like the job, but said nothing
about balls or _pains_, which were bad enough. He kept me waiting about
an hour, and then said, “You need wait no longer; the letter won’t
be ready for some time, and my orderly dragoon shall take it. Is the
road difficult to find?” I said, “No; if he keeps the chaussée, he
can’t miss it.” The poor dragoon fell in with the French patrol, and
was taken prisoner. When the poor fellow’s fate was known, how Colonel
Beckwith did laugh at my escape!

At Arruda we marched every day at daylight into position in the hills
behind us, and by the ability of Craufurd they were made impregnable.
The whole Division was at work. As Colonel Beckwith and I were standing
in the camp one day, it came on to rain, and we saw a Rifleman rolling
down a wine-cask, apparently empty, from a house near. He deliberately
knocked in one of the heads; then—for it was on the side of a rapidly
shelving hill—propped it up with stones, and crept in out of the rain.
Colonel Beckwith says, “Oh, look at the lazy fellow; he has not half
supported it. When he falls asleep, if he turns round, down it will
come.” Our curiosity was excited, and our time anything but occupied,
so we watched our friend, when in about twenty minutes the cask with
the man inside came rolling down the hill. He must have rolled over
twenty times at least before the rapidity disengaged him from his
round-house, and even afterwards, such was the impetus, he rolled over
several times. To refrain from laughing excessively was impossible,
though we really thought the noble fellow must be hurt, when up he
jumped, looked round, and said “I never had any affection for an empty
wine-cask, and may the devil take me if ever I go near another—to be
whirled round like a water-mill in this manner!” The fellow was in a
violent John Bull passion, while we were nearly killed with laughing.

When Massena retired, an order came to the Light Division to move on De
Litte, and to Lord Hill to do the same on our right at [Vallada?]. This
dispatch I was doomed to carry. It was one of the utmost importance,
and required a gallop. By Jove, I had ten miles to go just before dark,
and when I got to Colborne’s position, who had a Brigade under Lord
Hill, a mouse could not get through his works. (Colborne was afterwards
my Brigadier in the Light Division, and is now Lord Seaton.) Such a job
I never had. I could not go in front of the works—the French had not
retired; so some works I leaped into, and led my noble English horse
into others. At last I got to Lord Hill, and he marched immediately,
night as it was. How I got back to my Division through the night I
hardly know, but horse and rider were both done. The spectacle of
hundreds of miserable wretches of French soldiers on the road in a
state of _starvation_ is not to be described.

We moved _viâ_ Caccas to Vallé on the [Rio Mayor], where our Division
were opposite Santarem. The next day [20 Nov.] the Duke came up and
ordered our Division to attack Santarem, which was bristling on our
right with abattis, three or four lines. We felt the difficulty of
carrying such heights, but towards the afternoon we moved on. On the
Duke’s staff there was a difference of opinion as to the number of the
enemy, whether one _corps d’armée_ or two. The Duke, who knew perfectly
well there were two, and our move was only a reconnaissance, turned to
Colonel Beckwith. “Beckwith, my Staff are disputing whether at Santarem
there is one _corps d’armée_ or two?” “I’ll be d——d if I know, my Lord,
but you may depend on it, a great number were required to make those
abattis _in one night_.” Lord Wellington laughed, and said, “You are
right, Beckwith; there are two _corps d’armée_.”[18] The enemy soon
showed themselves. The Duke, as was his wont, satisfied himself _by
ocular demonstration_, and the Division returned to its bivouac. Whilst
here, Colonel Beckwith was seized with a violent attack of ague.

Our outposts were perfectly quiet, although sentries, French and
English, were at each end of the bridge over the Rio Mayor, and
vedettes along each bank. There was most excellent coursing on the
plains of Vallé, and James Stewart and I were frequently out. Here I
gave him my celebrated Spanish greyhound, Moro, the best the world ever
produced, with a pedigree like that of an Arab horse, bred at Zamora
by the Conde de Monteron; but the noble dog’s story is too long to
tell here. In one year Stewart gave me him back again to run a match
against the Duke of Wellington’s dog. But the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo
prevented our sports of that description. Colonel Beckwith going to
Lisbon, and I being his A.D.C., it was voted a capital opportunity for
me to go to have the ball cut out from under the tendon Achillis, in
the very joint. I was very lame, and the pain often excruciating, so
off I cut.

Soon after we reached Lisbon, I was ordered to Buenos Ayres to be near
the surgeons. A board was held consisting of the celebrated Staff
Surgeon Morell, who had attended me before, Higgins, and Brownrigg.
They examined my leg. I was all for the operation. Morell and Higgins
recommended me to remain with a stiff leg of my own as better than a
wooden one, for the wounds in Lisbon of late had sloughed so, they were
dubious of the result. Brownrigg said, “If it were my leg, out should
come the ball.” On which I roared out, “Hurrah, Brownrigg, you are the
doctor for me.” So Morell says, “Very well, if you are desirous, we
will do it _directly_.” My pluck was somewhat cooled, but I cocked up
my leg, and said, “There it is; slash away.” It was five minutes, most
painful indeed, before it was extracted. The ball was jagged, and the
tendonous fibres had so grown into it, it was half dissected and half
torn out, with most excruciating torture for a moment, the forceps
breaking which had hold of the ball. George Simmons was present, whose
wound had broken out and obliged him to go to Lisbon.[19] The surgeon
wanted some linen during the operation, so I said, “George, tear a
shirt,” which my servant gave him. He turned it about, said, “No, it
is a pity; it is a good shirt;” at which I did not —— him a few, for
my leg was aching and smoking from a wound four or five inches long.
Thank God Almighty and a light heart, no sloughing occurred, and before
the wound was healed I was with the regiment. Colonel Beckwith’s ague
was cured, and he had joined his Brigade before I could move, so when I
returned to Vallé he was delighted to see his A.D.C.

CHAPTER VI.

CAMPAIGN OF 1811.

I found the army in hourly expectation to move, and the Captain of my
Company—Leach—was gone sick to the rear, so I said to my Colonel, “I
must be no longer A.D.C., sir. However grateful I am, my Company wants
me.” “Ah, now you can walk a little, you leave me! Go and be d——d to
you; but I love you for the desire.” Off I started, and the very next
day we marched [6 Mar. 1811], Massena retreating out of Portugal, and
many is the skirmish we had. My leg was so painful, the wound open, and
I was so lame. When others could lie down I was on horseback, on a dear
little Spanish horse given me by James Stewart, afterwards an animal of
still greater renown.

At Pombala I had with my Company a very heavy skirmish [11 Mar.]. At
Redinha my Company was in the advance [12 Mar.], supported by Captain
O’Hare’s. A wood on our front and right was _full_ of Frenchmen. The
Light Companies of the 3rd Division came up. I asked, “Are you going
to attack that wood?” A Captain of the 88th Light Company, whom I
knew, quite laughed at my question. I said very quietly, “You will be
beat back, and when you are, I will move on the edge of the wood and
help you.” How he laughed! My prediction was very soon verified: he
was wounded, and picked up by my Company, which I moved on the right
flank of the French and stopped them immediately. I sent to my support,
O’Hare, to move up to me. The obstinate old Turk would not, and so I
was obliged to come back, and had most unnecessarily five or six men
wounded.

The Plain of Redinha is a fine field for military display, and our
lines formed to attack Ney’s rearguard were magnificent. The enemy had
many guns in the field, with prolonged lines, an excellent mode for
retreat on such ground, and no rearguard was ever drawn off in more
masterly style, while I thought our attack in lines was heavy, slow,
and not half so destructive as a rush of many contiguous columns would
have been. The enemy had to retire over a bridge through the village
of Redinha, and we Riflemen sorely pressed them on their left. A line
of French infantry, concealed behind an _atalaya_ (or tower) on a
hill good for the purpose, were lying down as my Company and the one
commanded by that wonderful Rifleman, Willie Johnstone, got within
twenty yards of them. To our astonishment, up jumped the line, fired a
volley (they did not hit a man), and went about. At them we all went
like devils, a regular foot race, except for me and my little horse
Tiny, from which I could not dismount. In the pursuit he carried me
down a rock twelve feet high, and Johnstone and I got to the bridge
and cut off half a Battalion of French. So many Legions of Honour I
scarcely ever saw in a group, but the eagle was off! We _never_ told
what we had done, though we enjoyed the fun, but it is an anecdote
worthy of record in Napier’s _History_.

We were engaged with the enemy every day. The next turn up was at
Condesia [Condeixa]; the next at Casal Nova [14 Mar.], where we had as
heavy a skirmishing fight as ever occurred. We Light Division gentlemen
had our full complement of fighting, for the French were obliged to
hold a village to give their column time to retire, and if the Duke’s
orders had been obeyed, our Division ought not to have attacked until
the 3rd and 4th Divisions were well up on the Frenchmen’s left. I lost
several men that day, as did all our Companies, and particularly the
52nd. Poor Major Jack Stewart,[20] a dear little fellow, a friend of
mine, was shot through the lungs and died in three days, (Beckwith’s
Brigade-Major, Lieut. James Stewart, was in three days [28 Mar., near
Freixadas] killed off the very same little English horse, called Tom);
Strode, a Lieutenant, received his death-wound while talking to me,
etc. That night I was on picquet. The enemy were retiring all night,
but their sentries and ours were in sight. At daylight a thick fog came
on. Beckwith’s Brigade, with him at its head, moved up to where I was
posted. He said, “Come, Harry, get your Company together, and fall in
at the head of the column.” At this moment two of the 16th Dragoons
rode back, and Beckwith said, “Where do you come from?” “We have
patrolled a league and a half in the front, and seen naught.” “A league
and a half, my friend,” says old Sydney, “in a thick fog is a d——d long
way. Why, Harry, you said the vedettes were close to you.” “So they
are,” I said, “and you will be fired at the moment you advance.” We had
not gone fifty yards when “Pop! pop!” Oh, how old Sydney laughed! “A
league and a half!” But the fog was so thick we could not move, and the
enemy, hearing our column on their rear, being clear, moved off.

In a few days, as we had got well up to the French rear-guard and were
about to attack, a General Order was received, to my astonishment,
appointing me Brigade Major[21] to the 2nd Light Brigade, not dear
old Sydney’s. _He_ expected it, since he and Colonel Pakenham (dear
Sir Edward!) were trying to do something for me on account of my lame
leg. Beckwith says, “Now give your Company over to Layton, and set off
immediately to Colonel Drummond,” who commanded the Brigade. Hardly
had I reached it, when such a cannonade commenced, knocking the 52nd
about in a way I never saw before and hardly since. We were soon all
engaged, and drove the French, with very hard fighting, into and over
the river, with a severe loss in killed, prisoners, and drowned. A very
heavy fight it was, ending just before dark. I said to my Brigadier,
“Have you any orders for the picquets, sir?” He was an old Guardsman,
the kindest though oddest fellow possible. “Pray, Mr. Smith, are you my
Brigade Major?” “I believe so, sir.” “Then let me tell you, it is your
duty to post the picquets, and mine to have a d—d good dinner for you
every day.” We soon understood each other. He cooked the dinner often
himself, and I _commanded_ the Brigade.

Our next great fight was a bitter one, Sabugal [3 April]. I shall
never forget the German 1st Hussars, my old friends, moving on that
day; their singing was melodious. Sir W. Erskine commanded the cavalry
and Light Division, a near-sighted old ass, and we got _meléed_ with
Reynier’s _corps d’armée_ strongly posted on heights above Sabugal, and
attacked when the Duke intended we should have moved round their left
to Quadraseyes, as the 5th, 4th, and 3rd Divisions were to attack their
front in the centre of their position. However, we began, and never
was more gallantry mutually displayed by friend and foe than on this
occasion, particularly by dear old Beckwith and his 1st Brigade. Some
guns were taken and retaken several times. A French officer on a grey
horse was most gallant. Old Beckwith, in a voice like thunder, roared
out to the Riflemen, “Shoot that fellow, will you?” In a moment he and
his horse were knocked over, and Sydney exclaimed, “Alas! you were a
_noble fellow_.”

My Brigadier, as I soon discovered, left the command to me, so I led
away, and we came in for a pretty good share in preventing Reynier’s
turning the left of Beckwith’s Brigade. Fortunately, the 5th Division
got into action just in time, for the French at the moment were
squeezing us awfully. The Light Division, under the shout of old
Beckwith, rushed on with an impetuosity nothing could resist, for,
so checked had we been, our bloods were really up, and we paid off
the enemy most awfully. Such a scene of slaughter as there was on one
hill would appal a modern soldier. The night came on most awfully wet,
and the 5th and Light Division were sent back to Sabugal for shelter.
Most dilapidated the place was, but the roofs were on, and Sir W.
Gomm, A.Q.M.G. of the 5th, and I divided the town between us, our poor
wounded lying out in the rain and cold all night. The next morning
was fine, and as the sun rose we marched over the field of battle.
Our soldiers’ blood was then cool, and it was beautiful to hear the
remarks of sympathy for the distress of the numerous dying and wounded
all around us. Oh, you kings and usurpers should view these scenes and
moderate ambition!

This evening [4 April] we had a long march into Quadraseyes, but
did not see a vestige of the enemy all day, nor of our commissariat
either. We were literally starving. That old rogue Picton had seized
the supplies of the Light Division for his 3rd. If he be now in the
Purgatory that we condemned him to, he is to be pitied.

We closely pursued the French over the frontier, but never had a real
slap at them. Almeida, which was garrisoned by their troops, was
invested by the 5th Division, while the Light Division moved into its
old lines, Gallegos, Marialva, Carpio, and Espeja. From the French
garrison of Ciudad Rodrigo the enemy frequently came out. The Duke had
gone into the Alemtejo, and Sir Brent Spencer commanded—a regular old
woman, who allowed the French to commit all sorts of extravagances
under our noses, when a rapid move on their rear from Espeja would have
punished them. Sir W. Erskine commanded the advance Cavalry and Light
Division.

I was at breakfast one morning with Sir William Erskine, who, early in
the morning, with his staff had taken out a small party to reconnoitre
Ciudad Rodrigo. The enemy immediately sent over a detachment of cavalry
to check the advance, and a great argument occurred between Sir
William and his A.A.G., Macdonald, whether the enemy crossed one or
two squadrons. During the discussion in came Sir William’s orderly, a
clever old dragoon of the 1st German Hussars. “Ah!” says Sir William,
“here is my old orderly; he can tell us. Hussar, how many squadrons of
the enemy crossed the Agueda this morning?” With a body as stiff and
erect as a statue, and a salute with an arm braced as if in the act of
cutting down his enemy, “Just forty-nine mans, no more; I count him.”
The laugh was against both disputants.

Now occurred the dreadful disaster of the escape of the French garrison
of Almeida. I shall never forget the mortification of our soldiers or
the admiration of our officers of the brilliancy of such an attempt,
the odds being a hundred to one against success. My long friend
Ironmonger, then of the Queen’s, into whose face George Simmons threw
the bucket of water when marching, as before described, from Belem,[22]
was grievously to blame.

Massena’s army were rapidly recovering. They had received
reinforcements, and were preparing to throw into Ciudad Rodrigo a large
convoy of provisions. For this, it was necessary for them to put us
back, and the present moment seemed a favourable one, as it was the
intention ultimately to withdraw the French army to Salamanca and the
neighbouring large towns, so that no demand might be made on the ample
supplies required for Ciudad Rodrigo. At this moment Soult was making a
formidable demonstration in the Alemtejo and Estremadura, our attempt
on Badajoz had failed, and a large portion of our army had moved
towards the south; it was therefore a fair opening for Massena to drive
us over the Coa.

However, the dear Duke of Wellington took a braver view of the
situation, and concentrated his army behind Fuentes D’Oñoro, and there
fought that celebrated battle which lasted a day and a half [5 May].
General Craufurd joined us here on the day of the general action. The
soldiers received him with every demonstration of joy. The officers
at that time execrated him. I did not; he had appointed me his
A.D.C., though I would not go to him, and he was always most kind and
hospitable to me.

On the morning of this day old Sydney again distinguished himself, for
the enemy from Poza Velha turned our right flank and licked our cavalry
(14th Light Dragoons and Royals) awfully, bringing 4000 fresh fellows
against them. There never was a more heavy fight than for several hours
in the village of Fuentes. Here I saw the 79th Regiment, in an attack
on the head of a French column coming up the road, bayonet eight or
nine French officers and upwards of 100 men, the only real bayonet
conflict I ever witnessed. After the battle of Fuentes d’Oñoro, the
French retired unmolested, for we were glad to get rid of them. As
they had such a formidable body of cavalry, on that open country we
literally could not molest them.

At this time almost all our army moved into the Alemtejo _viâ_
Arronchas, where, on Sir John Moore’s advance to Salamanca, I had a
nice quarter which I occupied four different times during the war. The
poor family were always delighted to see me. On our advance into the
Alemtejo we heard of the bloody battle of Albuera [16 May], and many of
us rode on to see the field, which was well demonstrated by the lines
of dead bodies, a most sanguinary conflict, and beautifully and truly
described by Napier.

I must here record a most ridiculous night alarm the Light Division
had, although leagues from any enemy, on their march into the Alemtejo.
A drove of bullocks galloped over our men asleep in the bivouac, and
for some time the officers could hardly persuade our best soldiers they
were not French cavalry. My Brigadier, Drummond, was sleeping under a
tree on his little portable iron bedstead. The light of a fire showed
him, to my amusement, in his shirt (not a very long one), endeavouring
to climb into the tree. I fell in his guard, and manfully charged
_nothing_ up a road leading to our camp, while General Craufurd lay on
his back laughing to hysterics, poor fellow. Drummond soon after died
at Guinaldo, in my arms, of a putrid sore throat, and Craufurd was
killed in the storm of Ciudad Rodrigo.

During all this summer our army was assembled watching Soult, who
neither attacked us nor we him. Never did we spend a more inactive
summer. The enemy from Ciudad Rodrigo moved on Castello Branco, and
threatened thereby our left flank and line of communication over the
Tagus. When Soult could no longer feed his assembled army, he retired,
and our Light Division were rapidly moved on Castello Branco, the
remainder of the army of the north following.

Our army this autumn was cantoned, as near as it could be fed, on
the frontiers to watch Ciudad Rodrigo, which the Duke contemplated
besieging. After the death of General Drummond, Major-General Vandeleur
was appointed to my Brigade, a fine, gentleman-like old Irish hero. We
were quartered at Martiago, and our Division, some at El Bodon, others
at Zamora, Guinaldo, etc. It was a very hot autumn, but towards the end
of the year, when the rains commenced, there was capital coursing.

General Craufurd this year, in one of his mad freaks, reported that
the Light Division was in want of clothing, etc., and it must go to
the rear. The Duke ordered us to march one cold night over the Agueda
to Larade, not far from Guinaldo, for his inspection. A great scene
occurred. Craufurd had not arrived before the Duke rode down the line,
and the Duke laughed and said, “Craufurd, you are late.” “No, my Lord;
you are before your time. _My watch_ is to be depended on.” (I was
riding a brown mare which I gave £120 for to Charlie Rowan, who had
been thrown by her, after buying her from General Craufurd because _he_
could not ride her. The mare charged the Duke, I on her back. “Hallo,
Smith,” says the Duke, “your horse masters you.”) The Duke, to _our_
delight, says to General Craufurd, “I never saw the Light Division look
better or more ready for service. March back to your quarters; I shall
soon require you in the field.” About this time Marmont moved up to
Ciudad Rodrigo with an enormous convoy of provisions, and he compelled
the Duke to assemble, and the brilliant affair of cavalry and squares
of infantry behind El Bodon took place [24 Sept.].

About this time we had some heavy and laborious manœuvring, night
marches, etc. During these movements we marched a dark night’s march
from Guinaldo, and, as the road was wet and far from good, we had
several checks in the column, when I heard a conversation between
a 16th Light Dragoon and one of the German 1st Hussars, neither of
whom had abstained from the ingredient which formed the subject. 16th
Dragoon: “I say, Hussar, I likes it strong and hot and sweet, and
plenty of ——. How do you like it?” Hussar: “I likes him raw.”

Marmont, having accomplished his object, fell back, and we returned
to our old cantonments. The Duke of Wellington’s dispatch dated
“Quadrasies, Sept. 29,” so fully details all these operations and shows
the beauty of the manœuvres so distinctly, I may confine myself to what
occurred the evening General Pakenham’s brigade had such a formidable
brush at Aldea de Ponte.

The 4th Division was to return at dusk, as was the Light. I was lying
in bivouac, talking to General Craufurd and John Bell, when a dragoon
rode up with a note from General Cole, requesting Craufurd to send
an officer as a guide to lead his division to the heights of Rendo at
dusk. I said, “Oh, John Bell will go, of course.” “No,” says John;
“Harry Smith knows the road best.” So I was ordered to go. Before I
reached Cole it was dark. I found his Division moving: they were all
right. I reported myself to him—the first time I had ever spoken to
him. Colonel Brooke, brother of the “Shannon” Brooke, his Q.M.G., was
with him. “Oh,” says Cole, “sent by Craufurd, are you? Do you know the
road?” We Light Division gentlemen were proper saucy fellows. I said,
“I suppose I should not have been sent if I had not.” “Ugh,” says Cole,
as hot as pepper. Here I may remark upon the difficulty there is at
night to know roads, even for one well acquainted with them. Fires
lighting, fires going out, the covering of the country with troops—such
things change the face of nature, and a little anxiety adds to the
difficulty. Cole, a most anxious man, kept saying, “Are you sure you
know the road, sir?” etc., etc., etc. At last I said, “General Cole,
if you will let me alone, I will conduct your Division; if you thus
attract my attention, I cannot.” It was an anxious moment, I admit. I
was just at a spot where I might miss the road, a great road which I
knew was near. I galloped ahead to look for it, and oh, how General
Cole did blow me up! I found my road, though, and so soon as the head
of the column had fairly reached it, I said, “Good night, General,”
and in a moment was in full speed, while he was hallooing to me to
come back. I had some difficulty in finding my own Division, which
was moving parallel with the force. When I told Craufurd of my first
acquaintance with that hot Irishman Cole, how he laughed! Poor dear Sir
Lowry! I was afterwards A.Q.M.G. to him after the battle of Waterloo,
and served under him as Commandant of Cape Castle and Senior Member of
Council when he was Governor, and many is the laugh we have had at our
first acquaintance.

On one of our marches from the Alemtejo to the north, in a house
where General Drummond and I were quartered at Idanha a Nova, a
very facetious Portuguese gentleman showed us a sort of a return of
the British, so incorrect that General Drummond laughed at it; but
Charlie Rowan, our A.A.G. (now the great policeman in London[23]), who
was dining with General Drummond, told this anecdote at the Duke’s
table at Guinaldo, and I was sent back about 150 miles to fetch my
friend. I could speak Portuguese as well as English. I therefore
persuaded our hero to accompany me to the Duke without telling why,
but a more unpleasant ride than this, in charge of my friend and all
alone, without groom, etc., I never had, and many was the blessing
I bestowed on Charlie Rowan’s tongue. I delivered my friend to the
Adjutant-General at Guinaldo, and had twenty-four miles to join my
General at Robledillo.

CHAPTER VII.

CAMPAIGN OF 1812: STORMING OF CIUDAD RODRIGO.

As the winter approached we had private theatricals. The Duke appointed
so many days for horse races, greyhound matches, etc., and the very
day they were to come off, which was well known to the French army, we
invested Ciudad Rodrigo, namely, on the 8th of January, 1812, and that
very night carried by storm the outworks called Fort San Francisco, up
to which spot it took the French several days to approach. We broke
ground, and thus the siege commenced.

When the detachments of the Light Division Brigades were parading,
my Brigade was to furnish 400 men. I understood four Companies, and
when Colonel Colborne (now Lord Seaton) was counting them, he said,
“There are not the complement of men.” I said, “I am sorry if I
have mistaken.” “Oh, never mind; run and bring another Company.” I
mention this to show what a cool, noble fellow he is. Many an officer
would have stormed like fury. He only thought of storming Fort San
Francisco, which he carried in a glorious manner.[24]

The siege was carried on by four Divisions—1st, 3rd, 4th, and Light,
cantoned as near Ciudad Rodrigo as possible. One Division was on duty
at a time, and each had to ford the Agueda the day it was for duty. The
Light was at El Bodon. We had a distance of nine miles to march every
fourth day, and back on the fifth, so that we had only three days’
halt. The frost was excessive, and there was some little snow, but
fortunately the weather was fine above head.

The Light Division stormed the little breach on the evening of the 19th
of January (nine o’clock). I was supping with my dear friend Captain
Uniacke, and brother Tom, his only subaltern not wounded. When I parted
from Uniacke—he was a noble, light-hearted fellow—he says, “Harry, you
will be a Captain before morning.” Little, poor fellow, did he think he
was to make the vacancy. I was senior subaltern of the 95th, and I went
to General Craufurd and volunteered the forlorn hope that was given to
Gurwood. Craufurd said, “Why, you cannot go; you, a Major of Brigade,
a senior Lieutenant, you are sure to get a Company. No, I must give it
to a younger officer.” This was to me a laborious night. Just as my
Brigade had to march, I discovered the Engineer officer had not brought
up the ladders, fascines, and bundles of hay, and old George Simmons
was sent for them.

In ascending the breach, I got on a ravelin at the head of the 43rd and
52nd, moving in column together. Colborne pulled me down again, and up
the right breach we ascended. I saw the great breach, stormed by the
3rd Division, was ably defended, and a line behind a work which, as
soon as we rushed along the ramparts, we could enfilade. I seized a
Company of the 43rd and rushed on the flank, and opened a fire which
destroyed every man behind the works. My conduct caused great annoyance
to the Captain, Duffy, with whom I had some very high words; but the
Company obeyed me, and then ran on with poor Uniacke’s Company to meet
the 3rd Division, or rather clear the ramparts to aid them, when the
horrid explosion took place which killed General Mackinnon of the 3rd
Division on the spot and many soldiers, awfully scorching others. I and
Uniacke were much scorched, but some splinters of an ammunition chest
lacerated him and caused his death three days after the storm. Tom, my
brother, was not hurt.

I shall never forget the concussion when it struck me, throwing me back
many feet into a lot of charged fuses of shells, which in the confusion
I took for shells. But a gallant fellow, a Sergeant MacCurrie, 52nd
Regiment, soon put me right, and prevented me leaping into the ditch.
My cocked hat was blown away, my clothes all singed; however the
sergeant, a noble fellow, lent me a catskin forage-cap, and on we
rushed to meet the 3rd Division, which we soon did. It was headed by a
great, big thundering Grenadier of the 88th, a Lieutenant Stewart, and
one of his men seized me by the throat as if I were a kitten, crying
out, “You French ——.” Luckily, he left me room in the windpipe to d——
his eyes, or the bayonet would have been through me in a moment.

Gurwood got great credit here unfairly. Willie Johnstone[25] and poor
Uniacke were the two first on the ramparts, Gurwood having been knocked
down in the breach and momentarily stunned, which enabled them to get
before him. However, Gurwood’s a sharp fellow, and he cut off in search
of the Governor, and brought his sword to the Duke, and Lord Fitzroy
Somerset buckled it on him in the breach. Gurwood made the _most_ of it.

We had many officers of rank wounded. George Napier, of the 52nd, lost
an arm; the General of Brigade, Vandeleur, was wounded severely in the
shoulder; and Colonel Colborne, of the 52nd, received an awful wound,
but he never quitted his Regiment until the city was perfectly ours,
and his Regiment all collected. A musket-ball had struck him under
the epaulette of his right shoulder, and broken the head of the bone
right off in the socket. To this the attention of the surgeons was of
course directed. Some months after Colborne complained of a pain four
inches below where the ball entered, and suppuration took place, and
by surgical treatment the bone was gradually exposed. The ball, after
breaking the arm above, had descended and broken the arm four inches
below, and was firmly embedded in the bone. The pain he suffered in the
extraction of the ball was more even than his iron heart could bear. He
used to lay his watch on the table and allow the surgeons five minutes’
exertions at a time, and they were three or four days before they
wrenched the ball from its ossified bed. In three weeks from that day
Colborne was in the Pyrenees, and in command of his Regiment. Of course
the shoulder joint was anchylosed, but he had free use of the arm below
the elbow.

After this siege we had a few weeks’ holiday, with the exception of
shooting some rascals who had deserted to the enemy. Eleven knelt on
one grave at Ituero. It is an awful ceremony, a military execution.
I was Major of Brigade of the day. The Provost-Marshal had not told
the firing off, so that a certain number of men should shoot one
culprit, and so on, but at his signal the whole party fired a volley.
Some prisoners were fortunate enough to be _killed_, others were only
wounded, some untouched. I galloped up. An unfortunate Rifleman called
to me by name—he was awfully wounded—“Oh, Mr. Smith, put me out of my
misery,” and I literally ordered the firing-party, when reloaded, to
run up and shoot the poor wretches. It was an awful scene.

“Blood he had viewed, but then
It flowed in combat....”

CHAPTER VIII.

CAMPAIGN OF 1812: THE STORMING OF BADAJOS—HARRY SMITH’S MARRIAGE.

At this period of the year (February, March) the coursing in this part
of Spain is capital, and by help of my celebrated dog Moro and two
other excellent ones, I supplied the officers’ mess of every Company
with hares for soup. We had a short repose, for the army moved into
Estremadura for the purpose of besieging Badajos. We Light, 3rd and
4th Divisions, thought, as we had taken Ciudad Rodrigo, others would
have the pleasure of the trenches of Badajos, but on our reaching Elvas
[17 Feb., 1812] we were very soon undeceived, and we were destined
for the duty,—to our mortification, for soldiers hate sieges and
working-parties. The Guards work better than any soldiers, from their
habits in London. Badajos was invested by the 3rd, 4th, and Light
Divisions on the Spanish side, or left bank of the river, and by the
5th Division[26] on the Portuguese side, or right bank. On the night
of the 17th March, St. Patrick’s Day, the Light Division broke ground
under a deluge of rain, which swelled the Guadiana so as to threaten
our bridge of boats. Our duties in the trenches were most laborious
during the whole siege, and much hard fighting we had, sorties, etc.
The night [26 Mar.] the outworks La Picurina was carried by my dear
friend Sir James Kempt, part of the 3rd Division (which was his) were
to compose the storming party. The Light Division, the working party,
consequently were sent to the Engineer Park for the ladders. When they
arrived, General Kempt ordered them to be planted (Sir H. Hardinge,
D.Q.M.G. of the Portuguese army, was here distinguished). The boys of
the 3rd Division said to our fellows, “Come, stand out of the way;”
to which our fellows replied, “D—— your eyes, do you think we Light
Division fetch ladders for such chaps as you to climb up? Follow
us”—springing on the ladders, and many of them were knocked over. A
notorious fellow, a Sergeant Brotherwood, a noble fellow on duty, told
me this anecdote. The siege was prosecuted with the same vigour from
without with which it was repelled from within.

After some hours in the trenches, when we returned I invariably ate and
went out coursing, and many is the gallant course I had, and many the
swift hare I and my dog Moro brought home from the right bank of the
Guadiana. One day James Stewart, I, and Charlie Eeles set off, having
three hours off duty, to look for a hare or two at a celebrated spot
where the hares ran very strong because there was a rabbit warren
which saved them. Moro, of course, was of the party. We soon found
an unusually strong hare, and, although the greyhounds fetched round
a dozen times, she still worked her way for the warren. I was riding
a great stupid Irish horse bought from General Vandeleur, called
Paddy, and as it was important for the soup to kill this hare, however
unsportsmanlike on quiet occasions it would be deemed, I rode to head
her from the warren. My stupid beast of a horse put his foot into a
hole and rolled over me. Stewart and Eeles picked me up, but I was
insensible. Although I have generally managed on such occasions to get
away from the horse, the animal had rolled over me, and when I came to
myself I was sitting on Eeles’ knee, my arms tied up with a whip-thong,
and James Stewart, with a blunt-looking penknife, trying to bleed me,
an operation I quickly prohibited by starting on to my legs. Moro
killed his hare, though, without my help.

On the night of the 6th April the 3rd Division were to storm the
citadel, the 4th and Light the great breach, the 5th the Olivença
Gate, and to escalade, if possible. The command of the Light Division
had devolved on Colonel Barnard. Vandeleur was wounded, and stayed at
Portalegre, and poor Beckwith had gone to the rear with violent ague;
he never joined us again, noble soldier that he was.

This escalade has been so frequently described, I shall only say that
when the head of the Light Division arrived at the ditch of the place
it was a beautiful moonlight night. Old Alister Cameron, who was in
command of four Companies of the 95th Regiment, extended along the
counterscape to attract the enemy’s fire, while the column planted
their ladders and descended, came up to Barnard and said, “Now my men
are ready; shall I begin?” “No, certainly not,” says Barnard. The
breach and the works were full of the enemy, looking quietly at us,
but not fifty yards off and most prepared, although _not firing a
shot_. So soon as our ladders were all ready posted, and the column in
the very act to move and rush down the ladders, Barnard called out,
“_Now_, Cameron!” and the first shot from us brought down such a hail
of fire as I shall never forget, nor ever saw before or since. It was
most murderous. We flew down the ladders and rushed at the breach, but
we were broken, and carried no weight with us, although every soldier
was a hero. The breach was covered by a breastwork from behind, and
ably defended on the top by _chevaux-de-frises_ of sword-blades, sharp
as razors, chained to the ground; while the ascent to the top of the
breach was covered with planks with sharp nails in them. However, devil
a one did I feel at this moment. One of the officers of the forlorn
hope, Lieut. Taggart of the 43rd, was hanging on my arm—a mode we
adopted to help each other up, for the ascent was most difficult and
steep. A Rifleman stood among the sword-blades on the top of one of
the _chevaux-de-frises_. We made a glorious rush to follow, but, alas!
in vain. He was knocked over. My old captain, O’Hare, who commanded
the storming party, was killed. All were awfully wounded except, I do
believe, myself and little Freer of the 43rd. I had been some seconds
at the _revêtement_ of the bastion near the breach, and my red-coat
pockets were literally filled with chips of stones splintered by
musket-balls. Those not knocked down were driven back by this hail
of mortality to the ladders. At the foot of them I saw poor Colonel
Macleod with his hands on his breast—the man who lent me his horse when
wounded at the bridge on the Coa. He said, “Oh, Smith, I am mortally
wounded. Help me up the ladder.” I said, “Oh no, dear fellow!” “I am,”
he said; “be quick!” I did so, and came back again. Little Freer and I
said, “Let us throw down the ladders; the fellows shan’t go out.” Some
soldiers behind said, “D—— your eyes, if you do we will bayonet you!”
and we were literally forced up with the crowd. My sash had got loose,
and one end of it was fast in the ladder, and the bayonet was very
nearly applied, but the sash by pulling became loose. So soon as we got
on the glacis, up came a fresh Brigade of the Portuguese of the 4th
Division. I never saw any soldiers behave with more pluck. Down into
the ditch we all went again, but the more we tried to get up, the more
we were destroyed. The 4th Division followed us in marching up to the
breach, and they made a most uncommon noise. The French saw us, but
took no notice. Sir Charles Colville, commanding the 4th Division (Cole
having been wounded at Albuera), made a devil of a noise, too, on the
glacis. Both Divisions were fairly beaten back; we never carried either
breach (nominally there were two breaches).

After the attacks upon the breaches, some time before daylight Lord
Fitzroy Somerset came to our Division. I think I was almost the first
officer who spoke to him. He said, “Where is Barnard?” I didn’t know,
but I assured his Lordship he was neither killed nor wounded. A few
minutes after his Lordship said that the Duke desired the Light and
4th Divisions to storm again. “The devil!” says I. “Why, we have had
enough; we are all knocked to pieces.” Lord Fitzroy says, “I dare say,
but you must try again.” I smiled and said, “If we could not succeed
with two whole fresh and unscathed Divisions, we are likely to make
a poor show of it now. But we will try again with all our might.”
Scarcely had this conversation occurred when a bugle sounded within
the breach, indicating what had occurred at the citadel and Puerto de
Olivença; and here ended all the fighting. Our fellows would have gone
at it again when collected and put into shape, but we were just as well
pleased that our attempt had so attracted the attention of the enemy as
greatly to facilitate that success which assured the prize contended
for.

There is no battle, day or night, I would not willingly react except
this. The murder of our gallant officers and soldiers is not to be
believed. Next day I and Charlie Beckwith, a brother Brigade-Major,
went over the scene. It was _appalling_. Heaps on heaps of slain,—in
one spot lay nine officers. Whilst we were there, Colonel Allen of
the Guards came up, and beckoned me to him. I saw that, in place of
congratulating me, he looked very dull. “What’s the matter?” I said.
“Do you not know my brother in the Rifles was killed last night?” “God
help him and you! no, for I and we all loved him.” In a flood of tears,
he looked round and pointed to a body. “There he lies.” He had a pair
of scissors with him. “Go and cut off a lock of his hair for my mother.
I came for the purpose, but I am not equal to doing it.”

The returns of killed and wounded and the evident thin appearance
of our camp at once too plainly told the loss we had sustained. O
memorable night of glory and woe! for, although the 4th and Light were
so beaten, our brilliant and numerous attacks induced the governor to
concentrate all his force in the breaches; thus the 3rd escaladed the
citadel, and the 5th got in by the Olivença gate. Although we lost so
many stout hearts, so many dear friends and comrades, yet not one staff
officer of our Division was killed or wounded. We had all been struck.
My clothes were cut by musket-balls, and I had several contusions,
particularly one on my left thigh.

Now comes a scene of horror I would willingly bury in oblivion.
The atrocities committed by our soldiers on the poor innocent and
defenceless inhabitants of the city, no words suffice to depict.
Civilized man, when let loose and the bonds of morality relaxed, is a
far greater beast than the savage, more refined in his cruelty, more
fiend-like in every act; and oh, too truly did our heretofore noble
soldiers disgrace themselves, though the officers exerted themselves to
the utmost to repress it, many who had escaped the enemy being wounded
in their merciful attempts! Yet this scene of debauchery, however cruel
to many, to me has been the solace and the whole happiness of my life
for thirty-three years. A poor defenceless maiden of thirteen years was
thrown upon my generous nature through her sister, as described so ably
in Johnny Kincaid’s book, of which this is an extract—

“I was conversing with a friend the day after, at the door of his
tent, when we observed two ladies coming from the city, who made
directly towards us; they seemed both young, and when they came near,
the elder of the two threw back her _mantilla_ to address us, showing
a remarkably handsome figure, with fine features; but her sallow,
sun-burnt, and careworn, though still youthful, countenance showed
that in her ‘the time for tender thoughts and soft endearments had
fled away and gone.’

“She at once addressed us in that confident, heroic manner so
characteristic of the high-bred Spanish maiden, told us who they
were—the last of an ancient and honourable house—and referred to an
officer high in rank in our army, who had been quartered there in the
days of her prosperity, for the truth of her tale.

“Her husband, she said, was a Spanish officer in a distant part of the
kingdom; he might, or he might not, still be living. But yesterday
she and this her young sister were able to live in affluence and in
a handsome house; to-day they knew not where to lay their heads,
where to get a change of raiment or a morsel of bread. Her house, she
said, was a wreck; and, to show the indignities to which they had
been subjected, she pointed to where the blood was still trickling
down their necks, caused by the wrenching of their ear-rings through
the flesh by the hands of worse than savages, who would not take the
trouble to unclasp them!

“For herself, she said, she cared not; but for the agitated and almost
unconscious maiden by her side, whom she had but lately received over
from the hands of her conventual instructresses, she was in despair,
and knew not what to do; and that, in the rapine and ruin which was
at that moment desolating the city, she saw no security for her but
the seemingly indelicate one she had adopted—of coming to the camp and
throwing themselves upon the protection of any British officer who
would afford it; and so great, she said, was her faith in our national
character, that she knew the appeal would not be made in vain, nor the
confidence abused. Nor was it made in vain! Nor could it be abused,
for she stood by the side of an angel! A being more transcendingly
lovely I had never before seen—one more amiable I have never yet known!

“Fourteen summers had not yet passed over her youthful countenance,
which was of a delicate freshness—more English than Spanish; her face,
though not perhaps rigidly beautiful, was nevertheless so remarkably
handsome, and so irresistibly attractive, surmounting a figure cast in
nature’s fairest mould, that to look at her was to love her; and I did
love her, but I never told my love, and in the mean time another and
a more impudent fellow stepped in and won her! But yet I was happy,
for in him she found such a one as her loveliness and her misfortunes
claimed—a man of honour, and a husband in every way worthy of her!

“That a being so young, so lovely, and so interesting, just
emancipated from the gloom of a convent, unknowing of the world and to
the world unknown, should thus have been wrecked on a sea of troubles,
and thrown on the mercy of strangers under circumstances so dreadful,
so uncontrollable, and not have sunk to rise no more, must be the
wonder of every one. Yet from the moment she was thrown on her own
resources, her star was in the ascendant.

“Guided by a just sense of rectitude, an innate purity of mind, a
singleness of purpose which defied malice, and a soul that soared
above circumstances, she became alike the adored of the camp and of
the drawing-room, and eventually the admired associate of princes. She
yet lives, in the affections of her gallant husband, in an elevated
situation in life, a pattern to her sex, and everybody’s _beau ideal_
of what a wife should be.”[27]

I confess myself to be the “more impudent fellow,” and if any reward
is due to a soldier, never was one so honoured and distinguished as
I have been by the possession of this dear child (for she was little
more than a child at this moment), one with a sense of honour no knight
ever exceeded in the most romantic days of chivalry, an understanding
superior to her years, a masculine mind with a force of character no
consideration could turn from her own just sense of rectitude, and all
encased in a frame of Nature’s fairest and most delicate moulding,
the figure of an angel, with an eye of light and an expression which
then inspired me with a maddening love which, from that period to this
(now thirty-three years), has never abated under many and the most
trying circumstances. Thus, as good may come out of evil, this scene
of devastation and spoil yielded to me a treasure invaluable; to me
who, among so many dear friends, had escaped all dangers; to me, a wild
youth not meriting such reward, and, however desirous, never able to
express half his gratitude to God Almighty for such signal marks of His
blessing shown to so young and so thoughtless a being. From that day to
this she has been my guardian angel. She has shared with me the dangers
and privations, the hardships and fatigues, of a restless life of war
in every quarter of the globe. No murmur has ever escaped her. Bereft
of every relative, of every tie to her country but the recollection of
it, united to a man of different though Christian religion, yet that
man has been and is her all, on whom have hinged the closed portals
of hope, happiness, and bliss; if opened, misery, destitution, and
bereavement, and every loss language can depict summed up in _one_
word, “_He_ is lost to me.” But, O my God, Thou hast kindly spared us
for each other; we have, through Thy grace, been but little separated,
and we have, in unison of soul, received at Thy holy altar the Blessed
Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ.[28] May we, through His
mediation, be still spared to each other in this life, and in the life
to come be eternally united in Heaven!

After the disorganization our troops had rushed into, it became the
duty of every officer to exert himself, and nobly did Colonel Barnard
set about the task, and ably supported was he by every officer in the
Division. We had not marched for the north two days when our soldiers
were, like Richard, “themselves again.” When the French garrison
were marched to the rear, my Brigade furnished an escort to the next
Division _en route_ to Elvas. I paraded upwards of four thousand
very orderly, fine-looking fellows. Many of the officers praised the
gallantry of our men, and all said, “Why break ground at all with such
soldiers? Had you stormed on the rainy night of the 17th March, you
would have taken the place with half the loss.” This is creditable to
us, but the Duke of Wellington would have been by no means borne out in
such an attempt.

However, as all this writing is to show rather my individual
participation in these scenes of glory and bloodshed, I must dwell a
little upon the joy of my marriage. I was only twenty-two, my wife
just on the verge of fourteen.[29] But in southern climates Nature
more early develops herself and attains maturity. Every day was an
increase of joy. Although both of us were of the quickest tempers, we
were both ready to forgive, and both intoxicated in happiness. All
my dearest friends—Charlie Beckwith, John Bell, Johnstone, Charlie
Eeles, Jack Molloy, etc.—were saying to themselves, “Alas! poor Harry
Smith is lost, who was the example of a duty-officer previously. It
is only natural he must neglect duty now.” I assured them all that the
contrary would be the case, for love would incite me to exertions in
hopes of preferment, the only mode I had to look to for a comfortable
maintenance; and my wife’s love, aided by her good sense, would see
I was never neglecting her if engaged in the performance of my duty.
Conscientiously did I act up to my feeling then, and no one ever did or
ever could say, I was out of my place night or day.

My duty was my duty—I gloried in it; my wife even still more so, and
never did she say, “You might have been with me,” or complain if I
was away. On the contrary, after many a day’s fatiguing march, when
I sought her out in the baggage or awaiting me, her first question
invariably was, “Are you sure you have done all your duty?” _Then_ I
admit my attention was unbounded, and we were happy—oh, how happy,
often amidst scenes of distress and privation that would have appalled
stouter hearts, not devoted like ours! And oh, when I reflect on God’s
mercy to us both! In a succession of the most brilliant battles for
years I was never even wounded, and, although I say it, no man ever
exposed himself in every way more as a soldier, or rode harder as a
sportsman. Wonderful, most wonderful, have been my hairbreadth escapes
from falls of horses under and over me all over the world.

CHAPTER IX.

CAMPAIGN OF 1812: BATTLE OF SALAMANCA—OCCUPATION OF MADRID—RETREAT TO
SALAMANCA.

But to the thread of my narrative. Hardly had we reached the frontier
of Portugal [24 April, 1812], our old haunts, Ituero, Guinaldo,
etc., when our army moved on again for Spain, and fought the Battle
of Salamanca. Before this battle we had an immense deal of marching
and manœuvring. The armies of Marmont and Wellington were close to
each other for several days, so that a trifling occurrence would have
brought on a general action, and we were frequently under cannonade.

My wife could not ride in the least at first, and oh, the difficulty
I had! although she had frequently ridden a donkey on her pilgrimage
to Olivença, once to avoid the siege of Badajos, and at other times
to her grandmother’s at Almendrajos.[30] However, I had one of my
saddles turned into a side-saddle most ably by a soldier of Ross’s
Troop of Horse Artillery, and at first made her ride a great brute
of a Portuguese horse I had; but she so rapidly improved, took such
pains, had so much practice and naturally good nerves, that she soon
got ashamed of her Portuguese horse, and wanted to ride my Spanish
little fellow, who had so nobly carried me at Redinha and in many other
fights. I always said, “When you can ride as well as you can dance
and sing, you shall,” for in those accomplishments she was perfect.
In crossing the Tormes [21 July], the very night before the battle of
Salamanca (there are quicksands in the river), her Portuguese horse was
so cowardly he alarmed me, and hardly had we crossed the river when
a clap of thunder, louder than anything that can be described, burst
over our heads. The Portuguese horse was in such a funk, she abjured
_all Portuguese_, and insisted hereafter on riding her own gallant
countryman, as gallant as any Arab. He was an Andalusian, which is a
thorough-bred descendant of the Moosul horse, which is literally an
Arab. The next day she mounted her Tiny, and rode him ever afterwards
over many an eventful field, until the end of the war at Toulouse. She
had him afterwards at my father’s house. The affection between them
was of the character of that between spaniel and master. The dear,
gallant horse lived to twenty-nine years of age, and died a happy
pensioner on my brother Charles’s estate.

It is difficult to say who was the proudest on the morning of the
battle [22 July], horse, wife, or Enrique (as I was always called).
She caracoled him about among the soldiers, to their delight, for he
was broken in like a Mameluke, though very difficult to ride. (The
soldiers of the whole Division loved her with enthusiasm from the
events so peculiar in her history, and she would laugh and talk with
all, which a soldier loves. Blackguards as many of the poor gallant
fellows were, there was not a man who would not have laid down his life
to defend her, and among the officers she was adored, and consulted on
all occasions of baggage-guard, etc.) Her attendant, who also had a led
horse in case of accident, with a little tent and a funny little pair
of lanterns, my dear, trusty old groom West, as the battle began, took
her to the rear, much to her annoyance, and in the thunder of cannon,
the pride of equestrianism was buried in anxiety for him on whom her
all depended. She and West slept on the field of battle, he having made
a bed for her with the green wheat he had cut just in full ear. She had
to hold her horse all night, and he ate all her bed of green wheat, to
her juvenile amusement; for a creature so gay and vivacious, with all
her sound sense, the earth never produced.

Next morning soon after daylight she joined me on the march. I was at
that time so afflicted with boils, I could hardly live on horseback.
I had eleven immense ones at the time on my legs and thighs, the
excruciating pain of which is not to be described. Our surgeon, old Joe
Bowker, insisted on my going to Salamanca, and one particular boil on
the bone of the inside of my knee proved a more irresistible argument.
So to Salamanca I had to go, my brother Tom doing my duty. I stayed
fourteen days at Salamanca, a time of love and excitement, although,
so distressed was the army for money, we lived almost on our rations,
except for a little assistance from the lady of our house in coffee,
etc. Wade, Sir Lowry Cole’s A.D.C., lent me one dollar out of forty
which he had received to support his General (who had been severely
wounded in the battle), and his staff. In such times of privation
heroism is required which our countrymen little dream of.

At the end of the fourteen days I had as many boils as ever, but, boils
and all, off we started, and rode some terrible distances for three or
four days. We overtook the Division, to the joy of the soldiers, before
we crossed the Guadarama Pass [11 Aug.]. There had been no fighting in
my absence, thank God.

We soon reached the neighbourhood of Madrid. No city could be better
laid out for pomp and show, and the Duke’s entry [13 Aug.] was a most
brilliant spectacle. My vivacious wife used to enjoy her native
capital, and in her admiration treated London and Paris as villages in
comparison. We spent a very happy time. It was a great amusement to
improve our wardrobe for the walk on the elegant Prado of an evening,
in which no love among the Spanish beauties showed to greater advantage
than my Estremenha, or native of Estremadura. During our stay in the
vicinity of Madrid we made several agreeable acquaintances, among
others the vicar of one of the many rich villages around Madrid,
Vicalbaro, a highly educated and clever fellow, a great sportsman and
excellent shot, with a morbid hatred to a Frenchman. Upon our moving
forward beyond Madrid as far as the beautiful and _clean_ city Alcala
[23 Oct.], I was brought in contact with the celebrated and unfortunate
General Elio, whom I had known in South America at Monte Video. He was
very conversational, and we had a long talk as to that colonial war;
but, as I was acting as interpreter for my friend James Stewart, the
A.Q.M.G. of our Division, who was making arrangements of march with
Elio, conversation on the past turned into plans for the future. We
moved forwards towards our right to Arganda [27 Oct.]. At this period
the Duke had gone to Burgos, and Lord Hill commanded. We soon felt
the loss of our decided and far-seeing chief, and we made marches and
counter-marches we were unaccustomed to. At ten at night, at Arganda,
Major-General Vandeleur received an order from General Alten, who
remained in Alcala, to march immediately back to Alcala with the whole
Division. Vandeleur sent for me and told me to order the assembly to
sound. I remonstrated and prayed him to wait until two hours before
daylight, for every soldier in the Division had more or less indulged
in the wine for which Arganda was celebrated. The good general had been
at the shrine of Bacchus too, and was uncontrollable. Blast went the
assembly, and staggering to their alarm-posts went the soldiers. Such
a scene of good-natured riot I had never seen in my own Division. With
the Duke we generally had a sort of hint we might be wanted, and our
tried soldiers would be as steady as rocks. Oh, such a dark night’s
march as we had back to Alcala! Vandeleur repented of his obstinacy,
and well he might.

We halted the next day at Alcala. Here, although it was now October,
it was evident to me that a long retreat to the frontier was about to
be undertaken, and I got from a Spanish officer, called Labrador, his
fine large Andalusian horse in exchange for an Irish brute I had bought
from General Vandeleur. He gave me three Spanish doubloons to boot, a
fortune in those days, particularly to me.

These three doubloons were given to my vivacious Spanish wife, who
put them up most carefully in my portmanteau, among my few shirts. On
the march the motion of the mule had shaken them out of place, the
doubloons were gone, and all our fortune! Her horror, poor girl, is not
to be described. She knew it was our all, and her delight when I gave
the treasure into her charge was now more than eclipsed by the misery
of the loss. I only laughed, for in those days hardships and privations
were so common, they were missed when comparative affluence supplied
their place.

We marched [30 Oct.] to Madrid, or rather its suburbs, where the poor
inhabitants were in indescribable distress, seeing that they were
again to be abandoned to French clemency and contributions. While our
troops were halted, waiting for orders whether to bivouac or whether
to retire, to our astonishment up came the Vicar of Vicalbaro. He
took me on one side, and told me most pathetically that he had made
himself so obnoxious to the French, he feared to stay, and had come
to crave my protection. This I gladly promised. While I described to
him the hardships a winter retreat would impose upon him and us, he
said gallantly, “I am young and healthy like yourselves; what you
suffer, I can. My only fear is that I may inconvenience you and my
young countrywoman, your wife.” I laughed, and called her. She was
all fun, notwithstanding the loss of the doubloons, and began to quiz
him; but in the midst of her raillery he observed, as he said to me
afterwards, her soul of kindness, and the Padre was installed in my
establishment, while my old comrades laughed and said, “Harry Smith
will do, now he has a father confessor,” by which name the Padre always
went—“Harry Smith’s confessor.” The hour or two of halt was occupied by
the Padre in buying a pony, which he soon effected, and his marching
establishment, a few shirts, with an immense _capa_, or cloak, almost
as much as the pony could carry.

It rained in torrents, and we marched to Aravaca, some miles to the
rear of the capital, where we found Lord Hill’s headquarters in
possession of every hole in the village, which was a very small one.
General Vandeleur, who was still suffering from his wound at Ciudad
Rodrigo, found a Captain of the Waggon Train in possession of a small
house. In walks the General to a nice clean little room with a cheerful
fire. “Who are you, sir?” says the General. “I am Captain ——, of the
Royal Waggon Train, attached to Lord Hill, and this house is given
me for my quarters.” “I, sir, am General Vandeleur, and am d——d glad
to see you in my quarters for _five minutes_.” The poor Captain very
quietly packed up his traps and went—I know not where.

I, my young wife, the Padre, all my greyhounds and dogs, about
thirteen, got into a little hole about six feet square, and were glad
enough to get out of the rain, for, though my wife had her little tent,
that, pitched on exceedingly wet ground, was a horrid shelter for any
one. Owing to the kindness of our Provost-Marshal (Mr. Stanway), I got
my horses also under a kind of out-office. We marched the next day to
the foot of the Guadarama Pass, where our soldiers, when dismissed in
bivouac, had a fine hunt after a wild boar, which they killed. The
sunshine brightened, and when I returned from a variety of duties I
found the young wife as neat as a new pin in her little tent, her habit
and all her things which had got wet in yesterday’s rain hung out to
dry. So after breakfast I proposed to decorate my person (shave I need
not, for as yet that operation was unnecessary), and _the_ portmanteau
was opened, the delinquent from which our doubloons had escaped. Some
of the shirts were wet from the rain, and in searching for a dry one,
out tumbled the three doubloons, which had been shaken into the folds
of the shirt by the motion of the mule, and so lost. Oh, such joy and
such laughing! We were so rich. We could buy bread and chocolate and
sausages and eggs through the interest of the Padre (for we found the
holy friar could get things when, however much money was exhibited,
it proved no talisman), and our little fortune carried us through the
retreat even to Ciudad Rodrigo, where money was paid to us.

This retreat was a very severe one as to weather, and although the
enemy did not actually press us, as he did the column from Burgos,
we made long marches and were very broad awake, and lost some of our
baggage and stores, which the wearied bullocks obliged us to abandon.
On reaching Salamanca, my wife, with the foresight of age rather than
youth, expended some of the doubloons in buying me two pairs of worsted
stockings and a pair of worsted mits, and the same for herself, which I
do believe saved her from sickness, for the rain, on the retreat from
Salamanca, came in torrents.

CHAPTER X.

CAMPAIGN OF 1812: RETREAT TO THE LINES OF TORRES VEDRAS—WINTER OF
1812-13.

The army concentrated again under the dear Duke of Wellington, and took
up its old victorious position on the Arapiles [14 Nov.], but not with
the same prospects. Soult, an able fellow, had nearly double our force,
and so soon as our rear was open the army was in full march on Ciudad
Rodrigo. It rained in torrents, and the roads rose above the soldiers’
ankles. Our supplies were _nil_, and the sufferings of the soldiers
were considerable. Many compared this retreat with that of Coruña,
at which I then laughed, and do now. The whole distance from Ciudad
Rodrigo is only forty-four miles. On one day to Coruña we marched
thirty-seven miles, fighting every yard, and the cold was intense; on
this retreat it was cold, but no _frost_ in the atmosphere.

In crossing the Huebra [17 Nov.], at San Muños, the enemy pressed our
rear-guard very sharply, and we had some very heavy skirmishing. Sir
E. Paget, by his own obstinacy in not believing the French Dragoons
had intervened upon our line of march, was taken prisoner, and our
rear-guard (my Brigade) driven from the ford. They had to take to the
river as well as they were able, the soldiers leaping from a steep bank
into it.

The sense and strength of my wife’s Spanish horse were this day put
to the test, for she had nothing for it but to make him leap into the
river from the high bank, which the noble animal did, all fours like
a dog. The poor Padre attempted the same, with the result that he and
pony floated down the stream, and the pony was drowned, but his large
Spanish _capa_ or cloak kept him afloat, and he was dragged out by some
of our soldiers. His holiness began now to think I had not exaggerated
the hardships of a soldier’s life. When well out of the river, he
quietly asked my poor old West for a horse I always had ready to jump
on in case my own were killed. West very quietly said, “Never lend
master’s other fighting horse, not to nobody.” My wife interceded for
the poor Padre, but had the same refusal. Old West says, “We shan’t
march far; the river bothered us, it will stop the French. Our Riflemen
don’t mean to let those fellows over. Night and the walk will warm you.”

I, seeing the distress my poor wife was likely to be in, had told her
particularly to stay with the 52nd, thinking they would move into
bivouac, while the Riflemen held the bed of the river where we had
crossed, to which alone my attention was drawn. There was a ford,
however, lower down the river, to which the 52nd were suddenly ordered.
It was impassable, but in the enemy’s attempt to cross, a heavy
skirmish ensued, in which poor Captain Dawson was killed and forty or
fifty men wounded; my wife in the thick of it, and the friar.

As soon as the ford was ascertained impassable, I was sent to bring
back the 52nd, when, to my astonishment and alarm, I found my young
wife drenched with leaping in the river, as much as from the torrents
of rain above. The poor Padre might have been drawn for “the Knight of
the Woeful Countenance.” I brought the whole into our wet and miserable
bivouac, and gave some Portuguese of my Brigade a dollar for a large
fire, when, cold and shivery as she was, she laughed at the Padre. We
had nothing to eat that night, as our mules were sent on, and there
was this young and delicate creature, in the month of November in the
north of Spain, wet as a drowned rat, with nothing to eat, and no cover
from the falling deluge. Not a murmur escaped her but once. I had had
no sleep for three nights, our rear being in a very ticklish position.
In sitting by the fire I had fallen asleep, and fell between the fire
and her. She had previously been roasted on one side, a cold mud on the
other. This change of temperature awoke her, and for the only time in
her life did she cry and say I might have avoided it. She had just woke
out of her sleep, and when cold and shivery our feelings are acute. In
a moment she exclaimed, “How foolish! you must have been nice and warm,
and to know that is enough for me.”

I took the Padre a mule; the rain broke, the little rivulet would soon
be fordable, and at daylight the next morning we expected a regular
squeeze from the enemy. To amend matters, too, in place of our moving
off before daylight and getting a start, we were to follow the 1st
Division, and this did not move. General Alten sent repeatedly to poor
dear Sir William Stewart (who gave me my commission), to represent the
prospect he had of a brush which ought to be avoided, when up rides to
Charlie Beckwith, our A.Q.M.G., the Honourable Arthur Upton, saying,
“My _dear-e_ Beckwith, you could not inform me where I could get a
_paysano_ (a peasant)? The 1st Division can’t move; we have no guide.”
“Oh, d——,” says Charlie, “is that it? We will do anything to get you
out of our way. Come to Harry Smith. He has a paysano, _I know_.”
I always had three or four poor fellows in charge of a guard, so
requisite are guides with light troops. I gave him his paysano, and by
this time the sun was an hour high at least. To our delight, in place
of a _fight retreating_, which partakes neither of the pomp nor majesty
of war, but of nothing but hard and often inglorious losses, we saw the
French army dismissed, all drying their clothes, and as little in a
state to attack as we were desirous of their company. We had a clear,
cold, but unmolested long march, and fell in with some stores coming.
Yesterday the soldier’s life was one of misery, to-day all joy and
elasticity!

Just as the rear-guard had moved off the ground, I heard the voice
of a soldier familiar to me calling out, “Oh, Mr. Smith!” (The Rifle
soldiers ever called me “Mr. Smith.”) “Don’t leave me here.” I rode
up. As gallant a Rifleman as ever breathed, by name O’Donnell, lay
there with his thigh fractured the day before by a cannon-shot. I was
grieved for him. I had no means to assist him but one which I deemed
it impossible he could avail himself of—the tumbril of a gun. He
said, “Oh, I can ride.” I galloped to Ross, who literally sent back
with me a six-pounder, and took the poor fellow on the tumbril, the
gunner cheerfully giving him his place. It was grievous to see poor
O’Donnell hoisted up with his thigh smashed. We got him there, though,
and he said, “I shall do now.” He died in two hours. I shall ever feel
grateful to Ross; few men could have done it, but his guns were drawn
by noble horses, and he was, and is, a SOLDIER.

Over the bivouac fire this night the Padre became eloquent and
sentimental. “When you told me at Madrid what were the hardships and
privations of a soldier’s life in retreat, pursued by a vigorous
enemy, I considered I had a very correct idea; I now see I had no
conception whatever. But what appears to me so extraordinary is that
every one acts for himself alone. _There_ you see a poor knocked-up
soldier sitting in the mud, unable to move; _there_ come grooms with
led horses. No one asks the sick man to ride, no one sympathizes
with the other’s feelings—in short, every one appears to struggle
against difficulties for himself alone.” I could see the Padre had not
forgotten my old man West’s refusal of my second war-horse.

On the day following [19 Nov.], the weather was clear but bitterly
cold. We reached the suburbs of Ciudad Rodrigo, happy enough to know
that for this campaign the fighting was over. Although some of our
troops had a long march before them into Portugal, we Light Division
gentlemen were close at home. Many of our stoutest officers were sick,
John Bell, Charlie Eeles, etc., and we had many wounded to look after.
The Padre and my cheerful, light-hearted wife were cooking in a little
house all day long. The Padre was a capital cook, and equally good when
the food was prepared. I went out coursing every day, and some of our
regiment fellows, notwithstanding the “retreat” and its hardships, went
out duck-shooting, up to their middles in water, Jonathan Leach among
the rest.

My brigade was ordered into our old villages of Alameda, Fuentes
d’Oñoro, Guinaldo, and to march _viâ_ San Felices el chico, there to
cross the Agueda. The weather was very rainy and cold, but my vivacious
little wife was full of animation and happiness, and the Padre usually
cooking.

Fuentes d’Oñoro was to be the head-quarters of our Brigade. General
Vandeleur took up his quarters in the Curé’s house, around which in
the battle had been a sanguinary conflict. I was at the other end of
the village for the sake of an excellent stable. It belonged to the
father of the beautiful Maria Josefa, who fled from her father’s house
with a commissary, was infamously treated by him, returned to her
fathers house, and was received by the good old man kindly, although
with nearly a broken heart. Songs were sung about her all over Spain,
and she was universally condemned, pitied, and pardoned. I put the
Padre in this house, told him the tale of woe, and, to his credit, he
did everything a Christian clergyman ought, to urge on the parents
pardon of the ill-used penitent. Nor did he plead in vain, the poor
thing was forgiven by every one but herself. The Padre requested my
generous-hearted wife to see her, and this was a consolation to poor
Maria Josefa worth a general action to behold.

My billet was some little distance from the stable, and while there my
landlord married a second wife. The inhabitants of this part of Spain
are very peculiar and primitive in their manners, dress, and customs;
they are called Charras. The dress of the women is most costly, and
a marriage feast exceeds any feast that I ever saw, or that has been
described by Abyssinian Bruce. We had fun and much feasting for three
days. One of the ceremonies is that during a dance in which the bride
is, of course, the _prima donna_, her relatives and friends make her
presents, which she receives while dancing in the most graceful, though
rustic, attitudes. The presents are frequently considerable sums in
gold, or gold and silver ornaments of singular workmanship. All
relatives and friends give something, or it is regarded as a slight.
My wife, who learned to dance the rustic measure on purpose, presented
a doubloon in the most elegant and graceful manner, to the delight of
her compatriots around, although, being an Estremenha, she was regarded
by these primitive, but hospitable and generous, creatures, as half
a foreigner. The bride has a knife in her uplifted hand, upon it an
apple, and the smaller presents are presented by cutting the apple, and
placing in the cut the money or ornament.

In this part of Spain the pigs are fed most delicately; they are driven
first into woods of cork trees, which produce beautiful, sweet acorns,
then into woods of magnificent chestnut trees, the keeper getting into
the trees and flogging down the acorns and chestnuts with an immense
long whip. The pigs thus fed yield a meat different from the usual meat
of the animal. They are of a beautiful breed, become exceedingly fat,
and the season of killing them and making black puddings and sausages
for the year’s supply is one of continual feasting. The peasants also
cure the meat along each side of the backbone called _loma de puerco_.
This they do in a very peculiar manner with salt, red pepper, and of
course a _soupçon_ of garlic in a thick slice; and, notwithstanding the
little garlic, when simply boiled, it is the most delicious food, for
breakfast particularly, that even a French cook could boast of.

During our stay at Fuentes, many were the rides my wife took on her
horse Tiny to our friends in the different villages. At last, however,
an order came to our Brigade head-quarters to vacate Fuentes d’Oñoro,
as it was required for a part of the head-quarters establishment not
far off at Freneda, and we moved to Guinaldo, to our deep regret. The
Padre a few days before had taken his departure for his living at
Vicalbaro. Two most magnificent mules, and his servant, came for him.
We parted with mutual regret, but I am sorry to say he only wrote to us
twice afterwards, and once to ask a favour for some individual.

At this time I was sporting mad. The Duke had a capital pack of
fox-hounds. James Stewart, my chum, our A.Q.M.G., had an excellent
pack of harriers to which I acted as whipper-in. After a very severe
run, swimming two rivers, my Andalusian, which produced the doubloons
at Alcala, died soon after he got back to his stable. Mr. Commissary
Haines, at head-quarters, had a beautiful pack of little beagles.
I was too proud to look at them. I had the best greyhounds in the
world,—“Moro,” and some of his almost equally celebrated sons.

CHAPTER XI.

CAMPAIGN OF 1813: BATTLE OF VITTORIA.

At Guinaldo we soon saw it was requisite to prepare for another
campaign, and without any previous warning whatever, we received, about
twelve at night, an order to march, which we did at daylight [21 May,
1813], and marched nineteen successive days without one halt.

I commenced this campaign under very unfortunate circumstances as far
as my stud was concerned. I had five capital horses, and only two fit
for work. Tiny, my wife’s noble little horse, had received a violent
injury from the pulling down of the bullock-manger (an immensely heavy
timber, with mere holes in it for the ox’s muzzle), when the extreme
end and sharp point fell on his off fore-hoof, and he was so lame he
could hardly travel to Vittoria. This was an awful loss to my wife.
General Vandeleur now and then mounted me, or I should have been badly
off indeed. James Stewart gave me a celebrated English hunter called
“Old Chap.” He had picked up a nail in his hind foot, and was not fit
to ride for months, and an English mare had thrown out a ring-bone. (I
must observe that winter quarters to my stud was no holiday.)

The march from Guinaldo to Palencia and thence to Vittoria was
exceedingly interesting; the weather delightful; supplies, the
mainspring of happiness in a soldier’s life, plentiful; and never
was any army (although the Duke had so censured us after the retreat
from Burgos) inspired with such confidence in their leader, and such
dependence on their own prowess. All was cheerfulness, joy, and
anticipation. On reaching Toro [2 June], we found the bridge over the
Douro destroyed. The river was full and barely fordable for cavalry
and baggage animals. The bridge was partially repaired, some boats
collected, and by boats our artillery, baggage, and material crossed,
some of the infantry in boats, some scrambling over the bridge. The
Douro, a magnificent and deep flowing river, was much up for the time
of year. The passage was a most animating spectacle; it would have
been a difficulty to an inexperienced army. With us, we were ordered
to cross, and it was a matter of fun and excitement. No halt of
Divisions, the river was crossed, and the day’s march completed. My
wife’s dear Spaniard being lame, she rode a thoroughbred mare, which I
gave £140 for, an elegant animal, but it no more had the sagacity of
Tiny than a cur has that of a foxhound, and the day before we reached
Palencia, upon a greasy bank, the mare slipped up and fell upon my
poor wife and broke a small bone in her foot. This was to me an awful
accident; heretofore health and happiness facilitated all; now, but for
her natural vivacity and devotion, such was the pain, she must have
remained at Palencia, and we must have separated. The bare idea aroused
all her energy, and she said, “Get me a mule or an ass, and put a
Spanish saddle for a lady on it; my feet will rest upon the foot-board,
and go I will!” Dozens of officers were in immediate requisition, some
trying mules to find a very easy one, others running from shop to shop
to get a good easy and well-cushioned saddle. There was no difficulty.
The word “stay behind” was the talisman to move pain, and the mule
was put in progress next morning with that success determination ever
ensures, for “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

The whole of the Duke’s army passed this day through the narrow main
street of rather a pretty city, Palencia [7 June]. From a little after
daylight, until past six in the evening, there was a continued stream
of men—cavalry, artillery, infantry, and baggage, without a moment’s
interruption the whole day. To view this torrent of life was a sight
which made an indelible impression upon a beholder.

But to my wounded wife. At the end of the march, the Brigade
head-quarters went, as usual, into the village near the bivouac. Oh,
the ceremony of her dismounting, the quantity of officers’ cloaks
spread for her reception; the “Take care! Now I’ll carry the leg,” of
the kind-hearted doctor! Talk of Indian attention! Here were a set of
fellows ready to lay down their lives even to alleviate momentary pain.

As we approached Burgos, the scene of previous failure, we Light, 3rd,
and 4th Divisions expected the reluctant honour of besieging it, and so
flushed with hope were we to meet the enemy in an open field and not
behind bastions, curtains, embrasures, and defences, we fairly wished
Burgos at the devil.

The day we were moving upon it [13 June] (the Duke knew it would not be
defended), to our delight, one, two, three, four terrific explosions
took place, and well did we know the enemy had blown Burgos to where we
wished it. The universal joy was most manifest, for, if we had besieged
it, former failure would have excited these crack Divisions to get
into it with the determination they had ever previously evinced, but
the blowing it up happily got us out of the difficulty to our hearts’
content.[31]

My wife’s foot gradually improved, and in a few days she was on her
horse again, and _en route_ in the column; for the soldiers, although
generally averse to be interfered with by horses on the line of march,
were ever delighted to get her to ride with their Company. Seeing her
again on her horse was a great relief to my mind, for, in her peculiar
and isolated position, the bare surmise of our separation was horrid,
and, if I must have left her behind, the fact of a true Catholic
allying herself to a heretic would, among bigoted inhabitants, have
secured her anything but tender attention.

Our Division at San Millan, near Vittoria [18 June], intercepted
the route of one of the French Columns as it was retiring into their
position at Vittoria, and had as brilliant a fight entirely of our
own as any one throughout the campaign. Some of the 1st Hussars also
had a severe brush. Our Division halted the next day [20th], but the
army never did, from the day of breaking up its cantonments until they
fought the battle of Vittoria. It was a most wonderful march, the army
in great fighting order, and every man in better wind than a trained
pugilist.

At the Battle of Vittoria [21 June] my Brigade, in the middle of the
action, was sent to support the 7th Division, which was very hotly
engaged. I was sent forward to report myself to Lord Dalhousie, who
commanded. I found his lordship and his Q.M.G., Drake, an old Rifle
comrade, in deep conversation. I reported pretty quick, and asked for
orders (the head of my Brigade was just getting under fire). I repeated
the question, “What orders, my Lord?” Drake became somewhat animated,
and I heard His Lordship say, “Better to take the village,” which the
French held with twelve guns (I had counted by their fire), and seemed
to be inclined to keep it. I roared out, “Certainly, my Lord,” and off
I galloped, both calling to me to come back, but, as none are so deaf
as those who won’t hear, I told General Vandeleur we were immediately
to take the village. There was no time to lose, and the 52nd Regiment
deployed into line as if at Shorncliffe, while our Riflemen were sent
out in every direction, five or six deep, keeping up a fire nothing
could resist. I galloped to the officer commanding a Battalion in the
7th Division (the 82nd, I think). “Lord Dalhousie desires you closely
to follow this Brigade of the Light Division.” “Who are you, sir?”
“Never mind that; disobey my Lord’s order at your peril.” My Brigade,
the 52nd in line and the swarms of Riflemen, rushed at the village,
and although the ground was intersected in its front by gardens and
ditches, nothing ever checked us until we reached the rear of the
village, where we halted to reform—the twelve guns, tumbrils, horses,
etc., standing in our possession. There never was a more impetuous
onset—nothing could withstand such a burst of determination. Before
we were ready to pursue the enemy—for we Light Division ever reformed
and got into order before a second attack, thanks to poor General Bob
Craufurd’s most excellent tuition—up came Lord Dalhousie with his
Q.M.G., Drake, to old Vandeleur, exclaiming, “Most brilliantly achieved
indeed! Where is the officer you sent to me for orders?” “Here I am, my
lord.” Old Drake knew well enough. “Upon my word, sir, you receive and
carry orders quicker than any officer I ever saw.” “You said, ‘Take the
village.’ My lord, there it is,” I said, “guns and all.” He smiled, and
old Drake burst into one of his grins, “Well done, Harry.”

We were hotly engaged all the afternoon pursuing the French over very
broad ditches. Until we neared Vittoria to our left, there was a plain
free from ditches. The confusion of baggage, etc., was indescribable.
Our Brigade was moving rapidly on, when such a swarm of French Cavalry
rushed out from among the baggage into our skirmishers, opposite a
company of the 2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade, commanded by Lieutenant
Tom Cochrane, we thought they must have been swept off. Fortunately
for Tom, a little rough ground and a bank enabled him to command his
Company to lie down, and such a reception they gave the horsemen, while
some of our Company were flying to their support, that the French fled
with a severe loss. Our Riflemen were beautiful shots, and as undaunted
as bulldogs. We knew so well, too, how to support each other, that
scarcely had the French Dragoons shown themselves when Cochrane’s rear
was supported, and we had such mutual confidence in this support that
we never calculated on disaster, but assumed the boldest front and
bearing.

A rather curious circumstance occurred to me after the first heights
and the key of the enemy’s central position was carried. I was standing
with Ross’s Brigade of guns sharply engaged, when my horse fell as if
stone dead. I jumped off, and began to look for the wound. I could see
none, and gave the poor animal a kick on the nose. He immediately shook
his head, and as instantly jumped on his legs, and I on his back. The
artillerymen all said it was the current of air, or, as they call it,
the wind, of one of the enemy’s cannon-shot. On the attack on the
village previously described, Lieutenant Northey (52nd Regiment) was
not knocked off as I was, but he was knocked down by the wind of a
shot, and his face as black as if he had been two hours in a pugilistic
ring.

The fall of my horse had been observed by some of our soldiers as
they were skirmishing forward, and a report soon prevailed that I was
killed, which, in the course of the afternoon, was communicated to my
poor wife, who followed close to the rear on the very field of battle,
crossing the plain covered with treasure. Her old groom, West, proposed
to carry off some on a led horse. She said, “Oh, West, never mind
money. Let us look for your master.” She had followed the 1st Brigade
men, the 2nd having been detached, unobserved by her, to aid the 7th
Division. After the battle, at dusk, my Brigade was ordered to join the
1st Brigade, with General Alten’s head-quarters. I had lost my voice
from the exertion of cheering with our men (not cheering them _on_, for
they required no such example), and as I approached the 1st Brigade,
to take up the ground for mine, I heard my wife’s lamentations. I
immediately galloped up to her, and spoke to her as well as I could,
considering the loss of my voice. “Oh, then, thank God, you are not
killed, only badly wounded.” “Thank God,” I growled, “I am neither,”
but, in her ecstasy of joy, this was not believed for a long while.

After putting up my Brigade (we required no picquets, the Cavalry
were far in our front in pursuit of the flying enemy) we, that is, my
General and Staff, repaired to a barn, where we got in our horses and
some forage, and lay down among them. It was dark; we had no lights,
and sleep after such a day was as refreshing as eating, even if we
had any means. At daybreak our luggage had arrived, and we were busy
preparing some breakfast. Hardly did the kettle boil when “Fall in!”
was the word. Just as we were jumping on our horses, my young wife,
her ears being rather quick, said, “I am sure I hear some one moaning,
like a wounded man.” We looked round, and I saw there was a loft for
hay over our barn. I immediately scrambled up with assistance, for the
ladder, like Robinson Crusoe’s, had been hauled up. When I reached
the landing-place, such a scene met my eye! Upwards of twenty French
officers, all more or less severely wounded, one poor fellow in the
agony of death, and a lady, whom I recognized as Spanish, grieving
over him. At first the poor fellows funked. I soon assured them of
every safety and protection, and put my wife and the poor Spanish
lady, her countrywoman, in communication. All we could spare, or,
rather, all our breakfast, was given to the wounded, for march we must.
The General sent his A.D.C. for a guard; we did all we could at the
moment, and the poor fellows were grateful indeed. The Spanish lady
had a most beautiful little pug dog, a thoroughbred one, with a very
extraordinary collar of bells about its neck. She insisted upon my
wife’s accepting the dog as a token of gratitude for our kindness. The
little animal was accepted immediately, and named “Vittoria”; we jumped
on our horses, and parted for ever, gratified, however, at having had
it in our power to render this slight assistance to the poor fellows
wounded and in distress. The dog became afterwards a celebrated animal
in the Division, universally known and caressed, and the heroine of
many a little anecdote, and hereafter at Waterloo must claim half a
page to itself. It was the most sensible little brute Nature ever
produced, and it and Tiny became most attached friends.

On this day’s march our soldiers could scarcely move—men, in such wind
and health as they were—but the fact is they had got some flocks of the
enemy’s sheep, and fallen in with a lot of flour; they had eaten till
they were gorged like vultures, and every man’s haversack was laden
with flour and raw meat, all of which, except a day or two’s supply,
the Generals of Brigade were obliged to order to be thrown away. We
were soon, however, close on the heels of the enemy, and the first
shot revived the power to march. The retreat of the enemy was marked
by every excess and atrocity and villages burning in every direction.
Oh, my countrymen of England, if you had seen the twentieth part of the
horrors of war I have, readily would you pay the war-taxes, and grumble
less at the pinching saddle of National Debt! The seat of war is hell
upon earth, even when stripped of the atrocities committed in Spain and
Portugal, and everywhere else, I believe, except dear old England, by
the French Army.

We Light Division had the pleasure, ere we reached Pamplona, to take
the enemy’s only remaining gun.[32]

CHAPTER XII.

CAMPAIGN OF 1813: ADVANCE TO VERA.

The night before we reached Pamplona [24 June], the enemy, rather
unexpectedly to us, drove in the picquets of my Brigade in a very sharp
skirmish, although we were as ever prepared, and the Division got under
arms. This convinced us that the whole army, except the garrison at
Pamplona, was in full retreat into France. It is a peculiar custom of
the French unexpectedly to put back your picquets when they are about
to retire; that is, when the ground admits no obstacle of bridge,
river, or village, intervening. The object of such forward moves I have
never heard satisfactorily given.

On this evening a stout French gentleman came in to our advanced post,
saying he wanted to see the Duke. I took him to General Vandeleur. He
dined with us, and a most jawing, facetious fellow he was. At first we
regarded him as a spy, which he afterwards told General Vandeleur he
was, and in the employ of the Duke. He could not proceed that night,
for we did not know in the least where head-quarters were, and the
night was excessively dark; so the French gentleman, whom I wished at
the devil, was given in charge to _me_. If he had had any inclination
to escape I defied him, for I put some of our old vigilant Riflemen
around him, so that not a man could get in or out of the room I had put
him in. We afterwards heard my friend was a man of great use to the
Duke, and one of King Joseph’s household.

The next day [25 June] we Light Division passed Pamplona, leaving it by
a very intricate road to our right, and were cantoned in the village
of Offala. It was necessary to keep a look-out towards Pamplona, and
my General, Vandeleur, and I, rode to look where to post our picquets.
I had a most athletic and active fellow with me as a guide, very
talkative, and full of the battle of Vittoria. He asked me what was the
name of the General before us. I said, “General Vandeleur.” I heard
him muttering it over to himself several times. He then ran up to the
General, and entered into conversation. The General soon called me to
him, for he could not speak a word [of Spanish]. “What’s the fellow
say?” “He is telling all he heard from the Frenchmen who were billeted
in his house in the retreat. He is full of anecdote.” He then looked
most expressively in Vandeleur’s face, and says, “Yes, they say the
English fought well, but had it not been for one General _Bandelo_,
the French would have gained the day.” “How the devil did this fellow
know?” says Vandeleur. I never undeceived the General, and he fancies
to this day his Brigade’s being sent to assist the 7th Division was
the cause of the Frenchmen’s remark. My guide, just like a “cute”
Irishman or American, gave me a knowing wink.

This very fellow turned out to be owner of the house my wife and
baggage and I got into—the General’s Aide-de-camp, as was often the
case, having shown her into one near the General. After I had dressed
myself, he came to me and said, “When you dine, I have some capital
wine, as much as you and your servants like; but,” he says, “come
down and look at my cellar.” The fellow had been so civil, I did not
like to refuse him. We descended by a stone staircase, he carrying a
light. He had upon his countenance a most sinister expression. I saw
something exceedingly excited him: his look became fiend-like. He and
I were alone, but such confidence had we Englishmen in a Spaniard,
and with the best reason, that I apprehended no personal evil. Still
his appearance was very singular. When we got to the cellar-door,
he opened it, and held the light so as to show the cellar; when,
in a voice of thunder, and with an expression of demoniacal hatred
and antipathy, pointing to the floor, he exclaimed, “There lie four
of the devils who thought to subjugate Spain! I am a Navarrese. I
was born free from all foreign invasion, and this right hand shall
plunge this stiletto in my own heart as it did into theirs, ere I
and my countrymen are subjugated!” brandishing his weapon like a
demon. I see the excited patriot as I write. Horror-struck as I
was, the instinct of self-preservation induced me to admire the deed
exceedingly, while my very frame quivered and my blood was frozen,
to see the noble science of war and the honour and chivalry of arms
reduced to the practices of midnight assassins. Upon the expression
of my admiration, he cooled, and while he was deliberately drawing
wine for my dinner, which, however strange it may be, I drank with
the gusto its flavour merited, I examined the four bodies. They were
Dragoons—four athletic, healthy-looking fellows. As we ascended, he
had perfectly recovered the equilibrium of his vivacity and naturally
good humour. I asked him how he, single-handed, had perpetrated this
deed on four armed men (for their swords were by their sides). “Oh,
easily enough. I pretended to love a Frenchman” (or, in his words,
‘I was an Afrancesado’), “and I proposed, after giving them a good
dinner, we should drink to the extermination of the English.” He then
looked at me and ground his teeth. “The French rascals, they little
guessed what I contemplated. Well, we got into the cellar, and drank
away until I made them so drunk, they fell, and my purpose was easily,
and as joyfully, effected.” He again brandished his dagger, and said,
“Thus die all enemies to Spain.” Their horses were in his stable. When
the French Regiment marched off, he gave these to some guerrillas in
the neighbourhood. It is not difficult to reconcile with truth the
assertion of the historian who puts down the loss of the French army,
during the Spanish war, as 400,000 men, for more men fell in this
midnight manner than by the broad-day sword, or the pestilence of
climate, which in Spain, in the autumn, is excessive.

The next day we marched a short distance to a beautiful village,
or town, rather,—Villalba, where we halted a day, and expected to
remain three or four. It was on a Sunday afternoon, and some of the
recollection of the Sunday of our youth was passing across the mind of
the lover of his family and his country—the very pew at church, the
old peasants in the aisle; the friendly neighbours’ happy faces; the
father, mother, brothers, sisters; the joys, in short, of home, for,
amidst the eventful scenes of such a life, recollection will bring the
past in view, and compare the blessings of peace with the horror, oh!
the cruel horror, of war! In the midst of this mental soliloquy, my
dear wife exclaims, “Mi Enrique, how thoughtful you look!” I dare not
tell her that my thoughts reverted to my home. Hers being a desolate
waste, the subject was ever prohibited, for her vivacious mind, and her
years of juvenile excitement, could never control an excess of grief if
the words, “your home,” ever escaped my lips.

My reverie was soon aroused by the entrance of a soldier, without
ceremony—for every one was ever welcome. “Sir, is the order come?”
“For what?” I said. “An extra allowance of wine?” “No,” he said, “for
an extra allowance of marching. We are to be off directly after these
French chaps, as expects to get to France without a kick from the
Light Division.” I was aware he alluded to General Clausel’s division
that was retiring by the pass over the Pyrenees, called La Haca. It is
most singular, but equally true, that our soldiers knew every move in
contemplation long before any officer. While we were in conversation,
in came the order; away went all thoughts of home, and a momentary
regret on quitting so nice a quarter was banished in the excitement of
the march.

In twenty minutes our Division was in full march to try and intercept
Clausel’s Division. That night we marched most rapidly to Tafalla, next
day to Olite, thence brought up our right shoulder towards Sanguessa.
This was a night-march of no ordinary character to all, particularly
to me and my wife. Her Spanish horse, Tiny, was so far recovered from
his lameness that she insisted on riding him. On a night-march we knew
the road to be difficult. In crossing the Arragon [30 June], although
the bridge was excellent, on this march by some singular accident
(it was very dark and raining) an interval occurred in our column—a
thing unprecedented, so particular were we, _thanks to Craufurd’s
instructions_—and the majority of the Division, in place of crossing
the bridge, passed the turn and went on a league out of the direction.
My Brigade was leading. Two Battalions came all right, and I stayed
more at the head of the column than was my wont, to watch the guides.
So dark and intricate was the road we were moving on, I proposed to the
General to form up, and see that our troops were all right. After the
two first Battalions formed, I waited a short time in expectation of
the next, the 2nd Battalion of the Rifle Brigade. I hallooed, seeing
no column, when a voice a long way off answered. It was that of the
most extraordinary character, the eccentric Colonel Wade. I galloped
up, and said, “Colonel, form up your Battalion, so soon as you reach
the Brigade.” “By Jesus,” he said, “we are soon formed; I and my
bugler are alone.” I, naturally somewhat excited, asked, “Where’s the
Regiment?” “Upon my soul, and that’s what I would like to ask you.” I
then saw some mistake must have happened. I galloped back in the dark
to the bridge, saw no column whatever, but heard voices far beyond the
bridge. The column, after passing it in the dark, had discovered the
error and were coming back. Meanwhile, my wife heard me hallooing and
came towards me. I had dismounted, and was leading my horse a little
way off the road up the left bank of the Arragon; the rain was falling
in torrents, the bank of the river gave way under me, and a flash of
lightning at the moment showed me I was falling into the bed of the
river about thirty feet below. I had firmly hold of my bridle—the
avalanche frightened my noble horse (the celebrated “Old Chap,” the
hunter that James Stewart gave me); he flew round and dragged me
from inevitable perdition. My wife and old West were close behind at
the moment, and she witnessed the whole, equally to her horror and
satisfaction. Then such a tale of woe from herself. The uneven ground
at night had so lamed her dear little horse, Tiny, that he could not
carry her. She got off in the rain and dark, herself still excessively
lame from the broken bone in the foot, and literally crawled along,
until the rocky road improved, and West again put her upon her
faithful Tiny. I could devote neither time nor attention to her. Day
was just beginning to break. I directed her to the bivouac, and most
energetically sought to collect my Brigade, which, with the daylight,
I soon effected. When I got back, I found my wife sitting, holding
her umbrella over General Vandeleur (who was suffering dreadfully
from rheumatism in the shoulder in which he had been wounded at the
storm of Ciudad Rodrigo), recounting to him her night’s adventures and
laughing heartily. The weather totally precluded any possibility of our
molesting Clausel, and we were ordered to march to Sanguessa, which we
did the following day, and Charlie Gore, General Kempt’s A.D.C., gave
a ball [1 July], where there was as much happiness as if we were at
Almack’s, and some as handsome women, the loves of girls of Sanguessa.

That night’s march was the most extraordinary thing which ever occurred
to our organized Light Division. We all blamed each other, but the fact
is, the turn of the road to the bridge was abrupt, the night dark,
the road so narrow that staff-officers could not ride up and down the
flank of the column; it may be regarded as “an untoward event.” From
Sanguessa we made rather long marches for the Valle of San Estevan,
through a most beautiful country covered in a great measure with
immense chestnut trees. After we had halted a day or two [7-14 July] in
this valley, of which the beauty is not to be conceived, we marched on
towards Vera by a road along the banks of the river Bidassoa. At Vera,
the enemy had fortified a large house very strongly, and their picquets
were upon its line. On our advance, we put back the enemy’s picquets,
but not without a sharp skirmish, and we held the house that afternoon.

In front of the mountain of Santa Barbara was a very steep hill, which
the enemy held in force, but a dense fog of the mountains prevented
us seeing each other. Colonel Barnard, with the 1st Battalion Rifle
Brigade, was sent to dislodge them [15 July]. They proved to be three
or four times his numbers. His attack, however, was supported, and as
he himself describes it, “I hallooed the fellows off in the fog.” We
had a good many men and officers, however, severely wounded. The next
day, or in the night, the enemy abandoned the fortified house of the
large village of Vera in their front, retired behind the village, and
firmly established themselves on the heights, while we occupied Vera
with some sick officers, our picquets being posted beyond. The enemy’s
vedettes and ours for many days were within talking distance, yet we
never had an alert by night or by day.

CHAPTER XIII.

CAMPAIGN OF 1813: IN THE PYRENEES—GENERAL SKERRETT—COMBAT OF
VERA—FIGHT AT THE BRIDGE, AND DEATH OF CADOUX.

Just before we reached Vera, my dear friend and General, Vandeleur,
was moved to a Cavalry Brigade, and General Skerrett, a very different
man, was sent to us, with a capital fellow for an A.D.C.—Captain Fane,
or, as usually designated, “Ugly Tom.” I, who had been accustomed to go
in and out of my previous Generals’ tents and quarters as my own, and
either breakfast or dine as I liked, was perfectly thunderstruck when
it was intimated to me I was to go only when asked; so Tom the A.D.C.
and we lived together, to the great amusement of my wife, who was
always playing Tom some trick or other.

During our halt in this position, the siege of San Sebastian was going
on. Soult, an able officer, who had been appointed to the command
of the beaten French force, soon reorganized it, and instilled its
old pride of victory, and inspired all again with the ardour and
vivacity of French soldiers. The siege of San Sebastian was vigorously
prosecuted. Pamplona was closely invested, and, from want of
provisions, must inevitably ere long surrender. Soult, therefore, had
a brilliant opportunity either to raise the siege of San Sebastian,
or to throw supplies in to Pamplona, or to do both, if great success
attended his operations. This opportunity he ably availed himself of,
by making a rapid movement to our right to the Pass of Roncesvalles
of knightly fame, and obliging the Duke of Wellington to concentrate
a great part of his army to protect Pamplona, or, rather, to ensure
its strict blockade, while the siege of San Sebastian was for the time
suspended, awaiting supplies which were on their passage from England.
My Division, the Light, was kept between the two, as were Lord Dacre’s
“horsemen light,” to “succour those that need it most,”[33] and we
had some very harassing marches, when it was discovered Soult had
penetrated the Pyrenees and was resolved on a general action. This he
fought on the 27th and 28th July, with the Frenchman’s usual success, a
good thrashing.[34]

The Light Division made a terrible night march on this occasion, one
of the most fatiguing to the soldiers that I ever witnessed. On the
Pyrenees, as on other mountains, the darkness is indescribable. We were
on a narrow mountain path, frequently with room only for one or two
men, when a soldier of the Rifle Brigade rolled down a hill as nearly
perpendicular as may be. We heard him bumping along, pack, rifle,
weight of ammunition, etc., when from the bottom he sang out, “Halloa
there! Tell the Captain there’s not a bit of me alive at all; but the
devil a bone have I broken; and faith I’m thinking no soldier ever
came to his ground at such a rate before. Have a care, boys, you don’t
follow. The breach at Badajos was nothing to the bottomless pit I’m now
in.”

After the battles of the Pyrenees, our Division was pushed forward with
great rapidity to intercept the retreat of one of the _corps d’armée_,
and General Kempt’s—the 1st—Brigade had some very heavy fighting [at
Jansi, 1 Aug.]; while at [Echallar], poor General Barnes, now no more,
in command of a Brigade of the 7th Division, made one of the boldest
and most successful attacks on five times his number, but one in which
bravery and success far exceeded judgment or utility.

We moved on again, and on one of our marches came to some very nice
cottages, one of which fell to the lot of myself and Tom Fane, the
A.D.C. The poor peasant was a kind-hearted farmer of the mountains, his
fields highly cultivated, his farm-yard supplied with poultry; every
domestic comfort his situation in life demanded was his—poor fellow, he
merited all. He killed some ducks for our supper, his garden supplied
beautiful peas, and we had a supper royalty would have envied with our
appetites. My wife had spread her cloak on the floor—she was perfectly
exhausted—and was fast asleep. I awoke her, she ate a capital supper,
but the next morning upbraided me and Tom Fane for not having given her
anything to eat; and to this day she is unconscious of sitting at our
supper-table. Judge by this anecdote what real fatigue is. The next
morning we could hardly induce our host to receive payment for his
eggs, his poultry, his bread, bacon, peas, milk, etc., and he would
insist on giving my wife a beautiful goat in full milk, which was added
to the boy Antonio’s herd.[35] We marched with mutual feelings of
newly-acquired but real friendship. Three days afterwards, we returned
to the very same ground, and we again occupied our previous dear little
mountain retreat, but the accursed hand of war had stamped devastation
upon it. The beautiful fields of Indian corn were all reaped as
forage, the poultry yard was void, the produce of our peasant’s garden
exhausted, his flour all consumed—in a word, he had nothing left of
all his previous plenty but a few milch goats, and that night he, poor
thing, supped with us from the resources of our rations and biscuit. He
said the French had swept off everything the English did not require.
The latter paid for everything, and gave him _bons_ or receipts for the
Indian corn reaped as forage, which he knew some day our commissary
would take up and pay. I never pitied man more, and in the midst of his
affliction it was beautiful to observe a pious resignation and a love
for his country, when he exclaimed, “Gracias a Dios, you have driven
back the villainous French to their own country.”

“O fortunatos nimium, sua si bona norint,
Agricolas ... procul discordibus armis.”

We returned to our line on this side of Vera, and the siege of San
Sebastian was again vigorously resumed. We Light Division, with the
3rd and 4th, were out of that glory, which we did not regret, although
the Duke never took the town until he sent to these three Divisions
for volunteers for the storming party [31 Aug.]. Then we soon took it;
but in candour I should state that the breaches were rendered more
practicable than when first stormed, the defences destroyed, and the
enemy’s means of defence diminished. It was, however, still a tough
piece of work, in which we lost some valuable officers and soldiers.
The enemy made a forward movement [the same day, 31 Aug.] for the
purpose of reinforcing the garrison, and in the morning put back our
picquets, and we anticipated a general action. However, the whole of
the enemy moved to the Lower Bidassoa, and crossed in force. The day
was very rainy, and the river was so full the French were compelled to
retreat rapidly; in fact, so sudden was the rise of the river, many
were obliged to retire by the bridge in our possession, as described by
Napier.

I have only, therefore, to relate an incident which occurred between
me and my new General—who, I soon discovered, was by nature a gallant
Grenadier, and no Light Troop officer, which requires the eye of a hawk
and the power of anticipating the enemy’s intention—who was always
to be found off his horse, standing in the most exposed spot under
the enemy’s fire while our Riflemen were well concealed, as stupidly
composed for himself as inactive for the welfare of his command.[36]
When the enemy put back our picquets in the morning, it was evidently
their intention to possess themselves of the bridge, which was
curiously placed as regarded our line of picquets. Thus—

[Illustration]

We did not occupy Vera, but withdrew on our own side of it, and I
saw the enemy preparing to carry the houses near the bridge in the
occupation of the 2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade. I said, “General
Skerrett, unless we send down the 52nd Regiment in support, the enemy
will drive back the Riflemen. They cannot hold those houses against the
numbers prepared to attack. Our men will fight like devils expecting to
be supported, and their loss, when driven out, will be very severe.” He
laughed (we were standing under a heavy fire exposed) and said, “Oh,
is that your opinion?” I said—most impertinently, I admit,—“And it
will be yours in five minutes,” for I was by no means prepared to see
the faith in support, which so many fights had established, destroyed,
and our gallant fellows knocked over by a stupidity heretofore not
exemplified. We had scarcely time to discuss the matter when down
came a thundering French column with swarms of sharpshooters, and, as
I predicted, drove our people out of the houses with one fell swoop,
while my General would move nothing on their flank or rear to aid them.
We lost many men and some officers, and the enemy possessed the houses,
and consequently, for the moment, possessed the passage of the bridge.
From its situation, however, it was impossible they could maintain it,
unless they put us farther back by a renewed attack on our elevated
position. So I said, “You see now what you have permitted, General, and
we must retake these houses, which we ought never to have lost.” He
quietly said, “I believe you are right.” I could stand this no longer,
and I galloped up to Colonel Colborne, in command of that beautiful
52nd Regiment, now Lord Seaton, who was as angry as he soon saw I
was. “Oh, sir, it is melancholy to see this. General Skerrett will do
nothing; we must retake those houses. I told him what would happen.”
“I am glad of it, for I was angry with you.” In two seconds we retook
the houses, for the enemy, seeing our determination to hold them, was
aware the nature of the ground would not enable him to do so unless he
occupied the position we intended to defend, and his effort was as much
as not to see whether we were in earnest, or whether, when attacked in
force, we should retire. The houses were retaken, as I said, and the
firing ceased the whole afternoon.

The evening came on very wet. We knew that the enemy had crossed the
Bidassoa [31 Aug.], and that his retreat would be impossible from the
swollen state of the river. We knew pretty well the Duke would shove
him into the river if he could; this very bridge, therefore, was of
the utmost importance, and no exertion should have been spared on
our part so to occupy it after dark as to prevent the passage being
seized. The rain was falling in torrents. I proposed that the whole of
the 2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade should be posted in the houses, the
bridge should be barricaded, and the 52nd Regiment should be close at
hand in support. Skerrett positively laughed outright, ordered the
whole Battalion into our position, but said, “You may leave a picquet
of one officer and thirty men at the bridge.” He was in the house on
the heights he had previously occupied. I had a little memorandum-book
in my pocket; I took it out for the first time in my life to note my
General’s orders. I read what he said, asking if that was his order.
He said, “Yes, I have already told you so.” I said most _wickedly_,
“We shall repent this before daylight.” He was callous to anything. I
galloped down to the houses, ordered the Battalion to retire, and told
my brother Tom, the Adjutant, to call to me a picquet of an officer
and thirty men for the bridge. Every officer and soldier thought I was
mad. Tom said, “Cadoux’s company is for picquet.” Up rode poor Cadoux,
a noble soldier, who could scarcely believe what I said, but began
to abuse me for not supporting them in the morning. I said, “Scold
away, all true; but no fault of _mine_. But come, no time for jaw, the
picquet!” Cadoux, noble fellow, says, “My company is so reduced this
morning, I will stay with it if I may. There are about fifty men.”
I gladly consented, for I had great faith in Cadoux’s ability and
watchfulness, and I told him he might rest assured he would be attacked
an hour or two before daylight. He said, “Most certainly I shall, and I
will now strengthen myself, and block up the bridge as well as I can,
and I will, if possible, hold the bridge until supported; so, when
the attack commences, instantly send the whole Battalion to me, and,
please God, I will keep the bridge.” It was then dark, and I rode as
fast as I could to tell Colborne, in whom we had all complete faith and
confidence. He was astonished, and read my memorandum. We agreed that,
so soon as the attack commenced, his Battalion should move down the
heights on the flank of the 2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade, which would
rush to support Cadoux, and thus we parted, I as sulky as my hot nature
would admit, knowing some disaster would befall my dear old Brigade
heretofore so judiciously handled.

In the course of the night, as we were lying before the fire, I _far
from asleep_, General Skerrett received a communication from General
Alten to the purport “that the enemy were retiring over the swollen
river; it was, therefore, to be apprehended he would before daylight
endeavour to possess himself of the bridge; that every precaution
must be taken to prevent him.” I, now being reinforced in opinion,
said, “Now, General, let me do so.” As he was still as obstinate as
ever, we were discussing the matter (I fear as far as I am concerned,
very hotly) when the “En avant, en avant! L’Empereur récompensera le
premier qu’avancera,” was screeched into our very ears, and Cadoux’s
fire was hot as ever fifty men’s was on earth. “Now,” says I, “General,
who is right?” _I_ knew what the troops would do. My only hope was
that Cadoux could keep the bridge as he anticipated. The fire of the
enemy was very severe, and the rushes of his columns most determined;
still Cadoux’s fire was from his post. Three successive times, with
half his gallant band, did he charge and drive back the enemy over the
bridge, the other half remaining in the houses as support. His hope and
confidence in support and the importance of his position sustained him
until a melancholy shot pierced his head, and he fell lifeless from
his horse.[37] A more gallant soul never left its mortal abode. His
company at this critical moment were driven back; the French column
and rear-guard crossed, and, by keeping near the bed of the river,
succeeded in escaping, although the Riflemen were in support of poor
Cadoux with as much rapidity as _distance_ allowed, and daylight saw
Colborne where he said he would be.

I was soon at the bridge. Such a scene of mortal strife from the fire
of fifty men was never witnessed. The bridge was almost choked with
the dead; the enemy’s loss was enormous, and many of his men were
drowned, and all his guns were left in the river a mile or two below
the bridge. The number of dead was so great, the bodies were thrown
into the rapid stream in the hope that the current would carry them,
but many rocks impeded them, and when the river subsided, we had
great cause to lament our precipitancy in hurling the bodies, for the
stench soon after was awful. The Duke was awfully annoyed, as well
he might be, but, as was his rule, never said anything when disaster
could not be amended. I have never told my tale till now. Skerrett
was a bilious fellow (a gallant Grenadier, I must readily avow), and
I hope his annoyance so affected his liver it precipitated a step he
had desired—as his father was just dead, and he was heir to an immense
property—to retire home on sick-leave. You may rely on it, I threw
no impediment in his way, for when he was gone, Colonel Colborne was
my Brigadier, whom we all regarded inferior to no one but the Duke.
Many is the conversation he and I have had over the lamentable affair
which killed poor Cadoux. I really believe, had he survived, he would
have held the bridge, although the enemy attacked it in desperation,
and although each time the column was driven back, a few men in the
dark succeeded in crossing, and these fellows, all practised soldiers,
posted themselves under cover on the banks of the river below the
bridge, and caused the loss our people sustained, that of noble Cadoux
among the rest, with impunity. Cadoux’s manner was effeminate, and, as
a boy, I used to quiz him.[38] He and I were, therefore, although not
enemies, not friends, until the battle of Vittoria, when I saw him most
conspicuous. He was ahead of me on his gallant war horse, which he took
at Barossa with the holsters full of doubloons, as the story went. I
was badly mounted that day, and my horse would not cross a brook which
his was scrambling over. I leaped from my saddle over my horse’s head
(I was very active in those days), seized his horse by the tail, and
I believe few, if any, were as soon in the middle of the Frenchmen’s
twelve guns as we were in support of the 7th Division. From that day we
were comrades in every sense of the term, and I wept over his gallant
remains with a bursting heart, as, with his Company who adored him, I
consigned to the grave the last external appearance of Daniel Cadoux.
His fame can never die.

The enemy retired into their previous position, as did we, and San
Sebastian was ours. We were in this line for some time, daily watching
the enemy making works with extraordinary vigour and diligence, which
we knew ere long we should have the glory (the pleasure, to most of
us) to run our heads against, for such was the ardour and confidence
of our army at this moment, that, if Lord Wellington had told us to
attempt to carry the moon, we should have done it.

During the occupation of our present position, I found the Basque
inhabitants on the Spanish side, and those on the French side of the
Pyrenees, carried on a sort of contraband trade, and that brandy and
claret were to be had. One day, therefore, upon General Skerrett’s
complaining to me he could get no wine or sheep, I told him I could get
him both. My smugglers were immediately in requisition. They got me
eight sheep and one dozen of claret. I was disappointed at the small
supply—accustomed to hospitable old Vandeleur’s consumption—and I told
my new General. He said he was exceedingly obliged to me; he should be
glad of one sheep and two bottles of wine. It did not make a bad story
through the Brigade. I and the A.D.C., Tom Fane, however, managed to
consume all.

One day (the man may now be conceived) Skerrett gave a great dinner,
and the _liberal_ Barnard and Colborne, commanding Regiments in the
Division, were asked to dine. Tom Fane and I were amused, for we knew
he had but little to give them to eat and less to drink, and where
were the materials to come from? And Barnard loved a good dinner, with
at least two bottles of good wine. To my astonishment, when I waited
on him, as I usually did every morning, for orders, he was dressed.
I said, “Where are you going, General?” (To me he was ever a most
affable, and rather an amusing, fellow.) He said, “To head-quarters at
Lesaca.” So Tom and I supposed he would come back laden with supplies.
(At head-quarters there was an excellent sutler, but the prices were,
of course, beyond any moderate means.) So Tom, A.D.C., was on the
look-out for his return. He soon arrived with a bottle of sherry in
each pocket of his military blue coat, viz. two, and says, “Fane, tell
Smith, as my wine stock is not large, to be cautious of it.” Tom did
tell me, and, when we met in the dining-room, the joke was too good not
to tell such noble and liberal fellows as Barnard and Colborne. Down we
sat to, oh! such a dinner; our soldiers in camp lived far better. So
Barnard says, “Being so near the French, we shall have plenty of cooks
in camp soon; come, Smith, a glass of wine,” and I think we drank the
pocket two bottles in about as many minutes; when Barnard, as _funny a
fellow_ and as _noble a soldier_ as ever lived, says, “Now, General,
some more of this wine. We camp fellows do not get such a treat
everyday.” Barnard had a French cook, taken at the battle of Salamanca,
and lived like a gentleman. “Barnard,” Skerrett says, looking like a
fiend at me, “that is the last, I very much regret to say, of an old
stock” (Barnard winked at me); “what I must now give you, I fear, won’t
be so good.” It was produced; it was trash of some sort, but not wine.
“No,” says Barnard, “that won’t do, but let us have some brandy.” We
got some execrable coffee, and here ended the only feast he ever gave
while in command of my Brigade. Poor Skerrett, he soon inherited £7000
a year, not long to enjoy it. He was killed in the most brilliant, and
at the same time the most unfortunate, affair that ever decorated and
tarnished British laurels, at Bergen Op Zoom.

CHAPTER XIV.

CAMPAIGN OF 1813: COLONEL COLBORNE—SECOND COMBAT OF VERA.

In our Division, generally speaking, the officers of each Company had
a little mess of their own, an arrangement indispensable, so much
detached were we on picquets, etc. Some of us lived most comfortably,
and great interchange of hospitality existed. We all had goats, and
every mess had a boy, who was in charge of them on the march and in
quarters, and milked them. On the march the flock of each Regiment and
Brigade assembled and moved with their goat-herds, when each drove his
master’s goats to his quarters. We observed extraordinary regularity
with these goats, and upon inquiry we found out the little fellows
organized themselves into regular guards. They had a captain, quite
a little fellow of dear old Billy Mein’s (52nd Regiment); their time
of duty was as regular as our soldiers’; they had sentries with long
white sticks in their hands, and Mein’s little boy held a sort of
court martial, and would lick a boy awfully who neglected his charge.
My little boy’s name was Antonio, and when he was for guard, I have
seen him turn out unusually smart, with his face and hands washed.
This little republic was very extraordinary, and quite true to the
letter as I have drawn it. Mein’s little captain told it all to my
wife, who took great interest in them after she was acquainted with
their organization, and the captain often consulted her. When our army
was broken up after Toulouse, and all the Portuguese Corps of course
marched back into Portugal, and the followers with them, we all of us
gave our goats to the poor little boys to whom we had been so much
indebted. My little fellow had a flock of fifteen. Many are probably
great goat-proprietors now from this basis for future fortune.

Our Brigade was now commanded by Colonel Colborne, in whom we all had
the most implicit confidence. I looked up to him as a man whose regard
I hoped to deserve, and by whose knowledge and experience I desired
to profit. He had more knowledge of ground, better understood the
posting of picquets, consequently required fewer men on duty (he always
strengthened every post by throwing obstacles—trees, stones, carts,
etc.—on the road, to prevent a rush at night), knew better what the
enemy were going to do, and more quickly anticipated his design than
any officer; with that coolness and animation, under fire, no matter
how hot, which marks a good huntsman when he finds his fox in his best
country.

The French were now erecting works, upon a position by nature strong
as one could well devise, for the purpose of defending the Pass of
Vera, and every day Colonel Colborne and I took rides to look at them,
with a pleasant reflexion that the stronger the works were, the greater
the difficulty we should have in turning them out—an achievement we
well knew in store for us. On Oct. 7, the Duke resolved to cross
the Bidassoa, and push the enemy at once into his own country, San
Sebastian having been taken. Now had arrived the time we long had
anticipated of a regular tussle with our fortified friends on the
heights of Vera. The Duke’s dispatch, Oct. 9, 1813, No. 837, tells the
military glory of the exploit. My object is the record of anecdotes
of myself and my friends. On the afternoon of the 7th, about two
o’clock, we were formed for the attack, and so soon as the head of
the 4th Division under that noble fellow, Sir Lowry Cole, appeared in
sight, we received the command to move forward. We attacked on three
different points. Advancing to the attack, Colborne, who had taken
a liking to me as an active fellow, says, “Now, Smith, you see the
heights above us?” “Well,” I said, “I wish we were there.” He laughed.
“When we are,” he says, “and you are not knocked over, you shall be a
Brevet-Major, if my recommendation has any weight at head-quarters.”
Backed by the performance of our Brigade, next day off he posted to
Lord Fitzroy Somerset, and came back as happy as a soldier ever is who
serves his comrade. “Well, Major Smith, give me your hand.” I did,
and my heart too (although not as a blushing bride). Kind-hearted
Colonel Barnard heard of this, went to Lord Fitzroy Somerset, asking
for the Brevet for one of his Captains, remarking that I should be made
a Major over the heads of twenty in my own Regiment. This startling
fact obliged Lord Fitzroy to lay the matter before the Duke, who, I am
told, said, “A pity, by G——! Colborne and the Brigade are so anxious
about it, and he deserves anything. If Smith will go and serve as
Brigade-Major to another Brigade, I will give him the rank after the
next battle.” Colborne’s mortification was so great that I banished
mine altogether by way of alleviating his disappointment. There was
such a demonstration of justice on the part of his Grace, and so did I
love the fellows whose heads I should have jumped over, that, honestly
and truly, I soon forgot the affair. Colborne said, “Go and serve with
another Brigade.” “No,” says I, “dear Colonel, not to be made of _your_
rank. Here I will fight on happily, daily acquiring knowledge from your
ability.”

The 1st Caçadores, under poor Colonel Algeo, moved so as to threaten
the enemy’s left, and intercept or harass the retreat of the troops
in the redoubt (which the noble 52nd were destined to carry at the
point of the bayonet without one check), and the 2nd Battalion of the
95th and the 3rd Caçadores moved to the enemy’s right of this redoubt
for a similar purpose. This Battalion was fiercely opposed, but so
soon as it succeeded in putting back the enemy, Colonel Colborne, at
the head of the 52nd, with an eye like a hawk’s, saw the moment had
arrived, and he gave the word “Forward.” One rush put us in possession
of the redoubt, and the Caçadores and 2nd Battalion 95th caused the
enemy great loss in his retreat to the top of the pass where his great
defence was made. The redoubt just carried was placed on the ridge of
the ravine, and must be carried ere any advance could be made on the
actual [position].

In this attack poor Algeo was killed. He rode a chestnut horse marked
precisely as my celebrated hunter and war-horse, “Old Chap,” which
I rode on that day. My wife was looking on the fight from the very
cottage window we had occupied so long, barely without the range of
musketry, and saw this horse gallop to the rear, dragging for some
distance the body by the stirrup. The impulse of the moment caused her
with one shriek to rush towards it, and so did anxiety and fright add
to her speed that my servant for some time could not overtake her. The
horse came on, when she soon recognized it was poor Algeo’s charger,
not mine, and fell senseless from emotion, but soon recovered, to
express her gratitude to Almighty God.

After this attack—and there never was a more brilliant one—the 4th
Division was well pushed up the hill, and, so soon as our Brigade was
reformed, we prepared for the great struggle on the top of the Pass of
Vera. Colborne sent me to Sir Lowry Cole, to tell him what he was about
to attempt, and to express his hope of a support to what he had just so
vigorously commenced. General Cole was all animation, and said, “Rely
on my support, and you will need it, for you have a tough struggle
before you.” On my return, we again advanced with a swarm of Riflemen
in skirmishing order keeping up a murderous fire. Firing up a hill is
far more destructive than firing down, as the balls in the latter case
fly over. The 52nd Regiment, well in hand, with their bayonets sharp
and glistening in the sun (for the afternoon was beautiful), were
advanced under a most heavy fire, but, from the cause mentioned, it was
not near so destructive as we expected. Still more to our astonishment,
the enemy did not defend their well-constructed work as determinedly as
we anticipated. Although they stood behind their parapets until we were
in the act of leaping on them, they then gave way, and we were almost
mixed together, till they precipitated themselves into a ravine, and
fled down almost out of sight as if by magic.

On the opposite side of this ravine, a few of the Riflemen of General
Kempt’s Brigade were pushing forward with a noble fellow, Reid, of the
Engineers, at their head. At the moment he did not know how full of
the enemy the ravine was. Colonel Colborne and I were on horseback. We
pushed on, a little madly, I admit, followed by those who could run
fastest, until the ravine expanded and a whole column of French were
visible, but we and Reid on the opposite side were rather ahead, while
the enemy could not see from out the ravine. The few men who were there
could not have resisted them, and certainly could not have cut them
off, had they been aware. Colonel Colborne, however, galloped up to the
officer at the head of the column with the bearing of a man supported
by 10,000, and said to the officer in French, “You are cut off. Lay
down your arms.” The officer, a fine soldier-like looking fellow, as
cool as possible, says, presenting his sword to Colonel Colborne,
“There, Monsieur, is a sword which has ever done its duty,” and then
ordered his men to lay down their arms. Colborne, with the presence
of mind which stamps the character of a soldier, said, “Face your men
to the left, and move out of the ravine.” By this means the French
soldiers were separated from their arms. At this moment there were up
with Colborne myself, Winterbottom, Adjutant of the 52nd Regiment, my
brother Tom, Adjutant of the 95th, and probably ten soldiers, and about
as many with Reid on the opposite ridge. Reid wisely did not halt,
but pushed forward, which added to the Frenchman’s impression of our
numbers, and Colborne turns to me, “Quick, Smith; what do you here? Get
a few men together, or we are yet in a scrape.” The French having moved
from their arms, Colborne desired the officer commanding to order them
to sit down. Our men were rapidly coming up and forming, and, when our
strength permitted, we ordered the enemy to march out of the ravine,
and there were 22 officers and 400 men. Three pieces of cannon we had
previously carried (_vide_ the Duke’s dispatch, Oct. 9, 1813, No.
837). Colonel Colborne, myself, and others were called madmen for our
audacity. I never witnessed such presence of mind as Colborne evinced
on this occasion, and when, like a _man_ as he is, he returned the poor
Frenchman’s sword, “There,” he says, “wear the sword, your pride; it is
not yet disgraced.” The fortune of war gave us the advantage over equal
bravery.[39]

By this time our men had got well out of the Pyrenees into the plain
of France below, and as night was rapidly approaching, I was sent on
to halt them, ready for Colonel Colborne to take up his position. The
prisoners were sent to the rear (what became of their arms I never
knew) under charge of a Lieutenant Cargill, of the 52nd Regiment, a
manly, rough young subaltern, who on his march, just at dusk, met the
Duke, who says, “Halloa, sir, where did you get those fellows?” “In
France. Colonel Colborne’s Brigade took them.” “How the devil do you
know it was France?” “Because I saw a lot of our fellows coming into
the column just before I left with pigs and poultry, which we had not
on the Spanish side.” The Duke turned hastily away without saying a
word. The next morning Mr. Cargill reported this to Colonel Colborne,
whom I hardly ever saw so angry. “Why, Mr. Cargill, you were not such a
blockhead as to tell the Duke _that_, were you?” In very broad Scotch,
“What for no? It was fact as death.” It did not escape the Duke, who
spoke to Colborne, saying, “Though your Brigade have even more than
usually distinguished themselves, we must respect the property of
the country.” “I am fully aware of it, my lord, and can rely upon
the discipline of my soldiers, but your lordship well knows in the
very heat of action a little irregularity will occur.” “Ah, ah!” says
my lord, “stop it in future, Colborne.” Nor had his Grace cause to
complain of us.

This night we slept on our arms, and cold and miserable we were, for
no baggage had been permitted to come to us. The next day we occupied
the heights of Vera, our outposts remaining pushed forward, and
head-quarters and our general hospital were established at Vera. My
wife joined me very early, and I never before had seen her under such
excitement, the effect of the previous day, when, as she conceived
at the moment, she had seen me killed. She did not recover her usual
vivacity for several days, and the report of a musket acted on her like
an electric shock. We remained in this position several days.

One day I dressed myself in all my best to do a little dandy at
head-quarters, to see some of my wounded comrades and officers, and
to look into our hospitals. In galloping through the country, I heard
a very melancholy and faint call, repeated once or twice without
attracting my attention. When I turned towards it, it was repeated. I
rode up and among several dead bodies of the enemy, I found the poor
fellow who had called to me greatly exhausted. _Four days_ had elapsed
since the action, and he had both legs shot off high up. I dismounted
and felt his pulse, which was still far from faint. Of course he prayed
me to send succour. I promised to do so, and I proceeded to tie some of
the bushes of the underwood to mark the spot, and continued to do so
until I reached a mountain track leading to Vera. I now even hear the
hideous moans he uttered when I turned from him, although I earnestly
assured him of help. Away I galloped to the hospital, not to visit my
own poor fellows, but to get a fatigue party and a stretcher, and off
I set for my poor wounded enemy, whom, from the precautions taken, I
easily found. Poor thing, from the belief that I had abandoned him, he
was nearly exhausted. We got him on the stretcher, the party set off
to the hospital, and I to my bivouac, for it was late and I was well
aware the poor thing would be treated just as one of our own soldiers.
I had literally forgotten the circumstance, when one day after we had
advanced considerably into France, a month or five weeks after the man
was picked up, a large convoy of disabled men, as an act of humanity,
were sent to their own country from the rear. My Brigade was of course
on the outpost, and it became my duty to go to the enemy’s advanced
post close to, with a letter and flag of truce. I was received as usual
with great civility, and the convoy passed on. While I was talking to
the French officers, a poor fellow on one of the stretchers called to
me and the officer, and began a volley of thanks, which, if it had
been of musquetry, would have been difficult to resist. I said, “I know
nothing about you, poor fellow; that will do.” “I know you; I owe my
life to you; you fetched the party who carried me to hospital. Both
stumps were amputated; I am now doing perfectly well, and I was treated
like one of your own soldiers.” I never saw gratitude so forcibly
expressed in my life.

CHAPTER XV.

CAMPAIGN OF 1813: BATTLE OF THE NIVELLE.

Our Division was soon after pushed forward to our right on a ridge
somewhat in advance, and fully looking upon the enemy’s position. His
right extended from St. Jean de Luz, his left was on the Nivelle, his
centre on La Petite Rhune[40] and the heights beyond that village. Our
Division was in the very centre opposite La Petite Rhune.

One morning Colonel Colborne and I were at the advance vedette at
daylight, and saw a French picquet of an officer and fifty men come
down to occupy a piece of rising ground between our respective advanced
posts, as to which the night before I and a French staff-officer had
agreed that neither should put a picquet on it. (Such arrangements
were very commonly made.) Colonel Colborne said, “Gallop up to the
officer, wave him back, or tell him he shall not put a picquet there.”
Having waved to no purpose, I then rode towards him and called to him.
He still moved on, so I galloped back. Colborne fell in our picquet,
ordered up a reserve, and fired five or six shots _over the heads_ of
the Frenchmen. They then went back immediately, and the hill became,
as previously agreed, neutral ground. I give this anecdote to show how
gentlemanlike enemies of disciplined armies can be; there was no such
courtesy between French and Spaniards.

A few days previously to Nov. 10, the Battle of the Nivelle, the
Division took ground on the ridge of hills in our occupation, and the
extreme right of the Division became the left. Gilmour, commanding the
1st Battalion of the Rifles, then in the 1st Brigade, had built a very
nice little mud hut about ten feet square with a chimney, fireplace,
and a door made of wattle and a bullock’s hide. When my wife rode
up, Gilmour had just turned out. The night was bitterly cold; it was
November in the Pyrenees. Gilmour says, “Jump off, and come into _your
own castle_, which I in perpetuity bequeath to you.” When I returned
from my Brigade and new line of picquets, etc., I found my wife as
warm and as snug as possible—dinner prepared for me and Tom Fane,
our horses all bivouacked, our cold tent pitched, and our servants
established in it; all was comfort, happiness, and joy, every want
supplied, every care banished. At night we retired to our nuptial
couch, a hard mattress on the floor, when a sudden storm of rain came
on. In ten seconds it came down through the roof of our black-earth
sods, and, literally in a moment, we were drenched to the skin and as
black as chimney-sweepers. The buoyant spirits of my wife, and the
ridiculous position we were in, made her laugh herself warm. We turned
the servants out of our tent, and never enjoyed the late comforts of
our castle again.

The enemy, not considering this ground strong enough, turned to it
with a vigour I have rarely witnessed, to fortify it by every means
art could devise. Every day, before the position was attacked, Colonel
Colborne and I went to look at their progress; the Duke himself would
come to our outpost, and continue walking there a long time. One day
he stayed unusually long. He turns to Colborne, “These fellows think
themselves invulnerable, but I will beat them out, and with great
ease.” “That we shall beat them,” says Colborne, “when your lordship
attacks, I have no doubt, but for the ease——” “Ah, Colborne, with your
local knowledge only, you are perfectly right; it appears difficult,
but the enemy have not men to man the works and lines they occupy. They
dare not concentrate a sufficient body to resist the attacks I shall
make upon them. I can pour a greater force on certain points than they
can concentrate to resist me.” “Now I see it, my lord,” says Colborne.
The Duke was lying down, and began a very earnest conversation. General
Alten, Kempt, Colborne, I, and other staff-officers were preparing to
leave the Duke, when he says, “Oh, lie still.” After he had conversed
for some time with Sir G. Murray, Murray took out of his sabretache his
writing-materials, and began to write the plan of attack for the whole
army. When it was finished, so clearly had he understood the Duke, I do
not think he erased one word. He says, “My lord, is this your desire?”
It was one of the most interesting scenes I have ever witnessed. As
Murray read, the Duke’s eye was directed with his telescope to the spot
in question. He never asked Sir G. Murray one question, but the muscles
of his face evinced lines of the deepest thought. When Sir G. Murray
had finished, the Duke smiled and said, “Ah, Murray, this will put us
in possession of the fellows’ lines. Shall we be ready to-morrow?” “I
fear not, my lord, but next day.” “Now, Alten,” says the Duke, “if,
during the night previous to the attack, the Light Division could be
formed on this very ground, so as to rush at La Petite Rhune just as
day dawned, it would be of vast importance and save great loss, and by
thus precipitating yourselves on the right of the works of La Petite
Rhune, you would certainly carry them.” This Petite Rhune was well
occupied both by men and works, and a tough affair was in prospect.
General Alten says, “I ‘dink’ I can, my lord.” Kempt says, “My Brigade
has a road. There can be no difficulty, my lord.” Colborne says, “For
me there is no road, but Smith and I both know every bush and every
stone. We have studied what we have daily expected, and in the darkest
night we can lead the Brigade to this very spot.” I was proud enough at
thus being associated, but no credit was due to me. “Depend on me, my
lord,” says Colborne. “Well then, Alten, when you receive your orders
as to the attack, let it be so.”

Just before starting on this night’s march, [9 Nov.], having had many
military arrangements to make before I got on my horse, I had got a
short distance when I remarked that, although I knew a proper tough
fight was in hand, I had forgotten to bid my “goodbye” to my wife,
which habit (on my part, at least) had rendered about as formal as if
going to London out of the country. Her feelings were acute enough
on such occasions, so I went into my hut, and avowed my neglect. She
looked very sad, and I said, “Hallo, what’s the matter?” “You or your
horse will be killed to-morrow.” I laughed and said, “Well, of two such
chances, I hope it may be the horse.” We parted, but she was very sad
indeed.

As we started for our position before the great, the important day
[Battle of Nivelle, 10 Nov.], the night was very dark. We had no road,
and positively nothing to guide us but knowing the bushes and stones
over a mountain ridge. Colborne stayed near the Brigade, and sent me on
from spot to spot which we both knew, when he would come up to me and
satisfy himself that I was right. I then went on again. In this manner
we crept up with our Brigade to our advanced picquet within a hundred
and fifty yards of the enemy. We afterwards found Kempt’s Brigade close
to our right, equally successfully posted. When Colborne and I rode up
to our most advanced picquet, of course by the rear, we found, to the
delight of us both, the Sergeant, Crowther, and his men, all sitting
round a fire, as alert as if on sentry themselves, with their rifles
between their legs, the sentry a few paces in their front. We had crept
up by ourselves. Without any agitation, they stood up very quietly to
reconnoitre us, when Colborne spoke, and commended their vigilance.
[I and] Tom Fane, Skerrett’s A.D.C., who nobly stayed with me rather
than go to the rear, lay down for about two hours, when I could sleep,
but Tom told me he could not. He had had a small flask of brandy, but,
what with the cold and the necessity of keeping it out, the brandy was
exhausted. About an hour before daylight, by some accident, a soldier’s
musket went off. It was a most anxious moment, for we thought the
enemy had discovered us, and, if they had not, such shots might be
repeated, and they would; but most fortunately all was still. I never
saw Colborne so excited as he was for the moment. The anxious moment
of appearing day arrived. We fell in, and our attack was made on the
enemy’s position in seven columns, nor did we ever meet a check, but
carried the enemy’s works, the tents all standing, by one fell swoop
of irresistible victory. Napier, the author of the _History of the
Peninsular War_, at the head of the 43rd, had his pantaloons torn by
the ball, and singed by the fire, of one of the enemy from the parapet
of their works. Such was the attack and such the resistance, that a
few prisoners whom we took declared that they and their officers were
perfectly thunderstruck, for they had no conception any force was near
them. The 4th Division had some heavy fighting on our right. _Vide_
Napier and the Duke’s despatch.[41] Ours was the most beautiful attack
ever made in the history of war.

The key of the enemy’s position was in our hands, and the great
line was our next immediate object. We were speedily reformed, and
ready for our attack on the enemy’s line-position and strong field
fortifications. In descending La Petite Rhune, we were much exposed
to the enemy’s fire, and when we got to the foot of the hill we were
about to attack, we had to cross a road enfiladed very judiciously by
the enemy, which caused some loss. We promptly stormed the enemy’s
works and as promptly carried them. I never saw our men fight with such
lively pluck; they were irresistible; and we saw the other Divisions
equally successful, the enemy flying in every direction. Our Riflemen
were pressing them in their own style, for the French themselves are
terrific in pursuit, when poor dear gallant (Sir Andrew) Barnard was
knocked off his horse by a musket-ball through his lungs.[42] When
Johnny Kincaid (the author), his adjutant, got up to him, he was
nearly choked by blood in his mouth. They washed it out for him, and he
recovered so as to give particular orders about a pocket-book and some
papers he wished sent to his brother. He did not want assistance; the
soldiers loved him; he was borne off to the rear, and, when examined
by Assistant-Surgeon Robson, it was found that the ball had not passed
through, but was perceptible to the touch. The surgeon had him held
up, so that when he made a bold incision to let the ball out, its own
weight would prevent its being repelled into the cavity of the chest.
The ball was boldly and judiciously extracted, no fever came on, and
in three weeks Barnard was at the head of a Brigade, with one wound
still open, and in the passage of the Gave d’Oleron he plunged into the
water, and saved the life of a soldier floating down the river.

But to the fight. Everything was carried apparently, and our Division
was halted. Some sharp skirmishing was going on, and Colborne and I
were standing with the 52nd Regiment, again ready for anything, on a
neck of land which conducted to a strong-looking star redoubt, the only
work the enemy still held, when Charlie Beckwith, the A.Q.M.G. of our
Division, came up with orders from General Alten to move on. “What,
Charlie, to attack that redoubt? Why, if we leave it to our right or
left, it must fall, as a matter of course; our whole army will be
beyond it in twenty minutes.” “I don’t know; your orders are to move
on.” “Am I to attack the redoubt?” says Colborne. “Your orders are to
move on,” and off he galloped. Colborne turns to me, and says, “What
an evasive order!” “Oh, sir,” says I, “let _us_ take the last of their
works; it will be the operation of a few minutes,” and on we went in a
column of companies. As we neared the enemy, Colborne’s brilliant eye
saw they were going to hold it, for it was a closed work, and he says,
“Smith, they do not mean to go until fairly driven out; come, let us
get off our horses.” I was just mounted on a beautiful thoroughbred
mare, my “Old Chap” horse being somewhat done, and I really believed
anything like _fighting_ was all over. I said nothing, but sat still,
and on we went with a hurrah which we meant should succeed, but which
the garrison intended should do no such thing. My horse was struck
within twenty yards of the ditch, and I turned her round so that I
might jump off, placing her between me and the fire, which was very
hot. As I was jumping off, another shot struck her, and she fell
upon me with a crash, which I thought had squeezed me as flat as a
thread-paper, her blood, like a fountain, pouring into my face. The
52nd were not beat back, but swerved from the redoubt into a ravine,
for they could not carry it.[43] While lying under my horse, I saw one
of the enemy jump on the parapet of the works in an undaunted manner
and in defiance of our attack, when suddenly he started straight up
into the air, really a considerable height, and fell headlong into the
ditch. A ball had struck him in the forehead, I suppose—the fire of our
skirmishers was very heavy on the redoubt. Our whole army was actually
passing to the rear of the redoubt. Colborne, in the most gallant
manner, jumped on his horse, rode up to the ditch under the fire of the
enemy, which, however, slackened as he loudly summoned the garrison to
surrender. The French officer, equally plucky, said, “Retire, sir, or I
will shoot you!” Colborne deliberately addressed the men. “If a shot is
fired, now that you are surrounded by our army, we will put every man
to the sword.” By this time I succeeded in getting some soldiers, by
calling to them, to drag me from under my horse, when they exclaimed,
“Well, d—— my eyes if our old Brigade-Major is killed, after all.”
“Come, pull away,” I said; “I am not even wounded, only squeezed.”
“Why, you are as bloody as a butcher.” I ran to Colborne just as he
had finished his speech. He took a little bit of paper out, wrote
on it, “I surrender unconditionally,” and gave it to me to give the
French officer, who laughed at the state of blood I was in. He signed
it, and Colborne sent me to the Duke. When I rode up (on a horse just
lent me), his Grace says, “Who are you?” “The Brigade-Major, 2nd Rifle
Brigade.” “Hullo, Smith, are you badly wounded?” “Not at all, sir; it
is my horse’s blood.” “Well.” I gave him the paper. “Tell Colborne I
approve.” The garrison began to march out just as my Brigade were again
moved on, and General Downie was left to receive it with his Spaniards.
The garrison was composed of the whole of the French 88th Regiment,
complete in every respect. The Duke was sorry we had attacked, for the
52nd lost many men, and it never was the Duke’s intention, as he saw
what Colborne had previously observed. Some discussion afterwards took
place as to the order Colborne received. However, I think now, as I did
then, _move on_ implied _attack_.

This was a most brilliant day’s fighting, and showed how irresistible
our army was. As the Duke foretold, the enemy had not men enough. We
were never opposed to a formed body. The whole army was in occupation
of their works, and when we penetrated, retired. A proclamation had
been issued to show the French inhabitants we made war on their army,
not on them, and never in an enemy’s country was such rigid discipline
maintained as by the British Army. It is scarcely to be credited.
The day after the battle our baggage moved up, and my wife joined
me, horror-struck at the state of my cocked hat, clothes, and only
half-washed face. She would not believe I was not awfully wounded, and
then reminded me of her prophecy, that either I or my horse would be
killed the following day.

A curious coincidence occurred in respect to this horse. Shortly
before the Battle of Salamanca [22 July, 1812] a great friend of mine,
Lindsay,[44] of the 11th Dragoons, came and prayed me to take it in
exchange for a magnificent brown mare I had bought from Charlie Rowan;
he had often tempted me, but I resisted, but upon this occasion I
yielded, so earnest was he for a Dragoon’s charger; and he gave me
sixty guineas to boot. In a few months he was killed off my gallant
mare on the Bridge of Tudela on the Douro, and now his mare was killed
under me as described. Lord Fitzroy Somerset bought his mare at the
sale; his lordship afterwards sold her to me, and she went with me to
Washington. I brought her back, gave her to a brother, and she bred
many foals afterwards.

CHAPTER XVI.

COMBAT OF THE 10TH DECEMBER—HARRY SMITH’S DREAM AND THE DEATH OF HIS
MOTHER.

The following day we moved into a most beautiful country, intersected
with hedgerows, and the finest and sweetest second crop of hay I ever
saw, which our horses rejoiced in. We took up our posts in front of
Arbonne [15 Nov.], and the following day had a sharp skirmish at our
advanced posts. We halted here a day or two, and then moved on to a
line more approaching Bayonne. The first Brigade occupied the Chateau
d’Arcangues [17 Nov.], of which Johnny Kincaid recounts some anecdotes;
the second the Chateau of Castilleur, where Colonel Colborne packed the
52nd Regiment as close as cards; and the 2nd Battalion, 95th Regiment,
and the 1st and 3rd Caçadores also had cover. Our posts were here very
close upon each other, and we had far more skirmishing and alarms than
usual.

Upon the morning of the 9th December, the 1st and 7th Divisions came
close up to our rear, which led us to suppose something was going on.
The enemy in our front were alarmed, and stood to their arms. Shortly
after these Divisions moved to our right, for the purpose of crossing
the river [Nive], and our Division moved on to drive back the enemy’s
picquets in the direction of Bayonne. To occupy his attention, our
Riflemen formed up before the firing commenced close to the enemy’s
strongest post, on the high-road to Bayonne, where we had been watching
each other for several days. When I and Beckwith, the A.Q.M.G., rode
up and ordered our people to advance, not a shot was fired. The French
saw we were going to attack, but did not withdraw their picquet. We
beckoned to them to do so, but they would not take the hint. We then
actually fired some shots over their heads. There was positively a
reluctance on our part to shoot any man in so cold-blooded a manner.
The moment a shot was fired the affair became general, and we drove in
the French picquets, who rapidly retired, and we had little fighting
all day. In the evening, having effected the demonstration required,
the Division retired to its old ground, and we resumed our usual line
of picquets.

On the following morning [10 Dec.], having a presentiment the enemy
would create a considerable diversion upon the left of our army, I was
with our most advanced picquets before daylight. I had not been there
many minutes, when I was joined by Beckwith, and soon after up came
Colborne. We said, “The enemy are going to attack us.” Colborne said,
“No; they are only going to resume their ordinary posts in our front.”
I said, “But look at the body in our immediate front, and a column far
off, evidently moving on the 1st Division,” which was on the extreme
left. It was evident we should be attacked immediately, and I said so,
but Colborne asserted it was no such thing. I prayed him to allow me to
order my Brigade under arms. At last he consented, and, although I rode
at the utmost speed, our troops were barely out in time, so furiously
did the French drive us back. They took the Chateau of Castilleur from
us, making at the same time a heavy attack on that of Arcangues. Much
of our baggage fell into the enemy’s hands, although they could not
carry it off. My wife had barely time to slip on her habit and jump
upon her horse; her Vittoria pug-dog in the scuffle was left behind,
so sharp was the fire on the Chateau. A bugler of the 52nd Regiment,
however, knew pug, whipped him up, and put him in his haversack. This
was nearer a surprise than anything we had ever experienced. For some
time the enemy possessed our quarters and bivouac, and—what was of
great importance to Tom Fane—rifled his portmanteau. They also carried
off a goose which was fattening for our Christmas dinner. We soon
repaid our friends with interest and retook our position, but it was
one of as heavy attacks as I have ever witnessed.

In the afternoon of that day, the enemy made a most vigorous attack
on Sir J. Hope, particularly at the Mayor’s House of Biaritz,[45]
sharply skirmishing with us at the same time to occupy our attention.
I thought then, and I think now, if my Brigade had been moved on the
left of the attack on Sir J. Hope, it would have caused the enemy great
loss, as his flank was exposed, but the Duke of Wellington knew better,
and never attempted hazardous and little affairs, but ever played a
great and safe game.

That evening the Regiments of Nassau and Frankfort walked over to
us from the French lines into those of the 7th Division at Arbonne.
Colonel Beyring,[46] Count Alten’s A.D.C., was said to have been for
some time with them, and it was evident the Duke knew about their
intention.

Upon the 11th [Dec.] we had some partial skirmishing. The 2nd Battalion
Rifle Brigade struck their tents for the purpose of moving their
ground. The enemy were most alarmed, and took up their ground to
receive us. That night, when our armies were dismissed, rations were
served out. In my life I never heard such a row as among the French
when preparing to cook. I was posting the night’s sentries, when I saw
a French officer doing the same. I went towards him, and we civilly
greeted each other. I said I wished to speak to him. He came up with
the greatest confidence and good humour. I showed him my vedette,
and then remarked that his was too far in advance and might create
an alarm at night when relieving. He said he did not see that, but
to please me, if I would point out where I wished he should be, he
would immediately move him—which he did. He presented his little flask
of excellent French brandy, of which I took a sup, and we parted in
perfect amity.

When I returned to Colborne, who was in the Chateau, I found him lying
asleep before a fire just as he had got off his horse. I did not awake
him, nor had I anything to eat. Sleep at night readily supplies the
place of food, and hunger at night on that account is not nearly so
acute and painful as in the morning, when your day’s work is before
you. Down I lay, without one thought in the world, from exhaustion. I
had a long dream, its purport that the enemy had attacked my father’s
house (the front of which opened to the street, the back into a
beautiful garden, by what we children called “The Black Door”). My
father had my mother in his arms; I saw them as plainly as ever I did
in my life, he carrying her through the Black Door, at the moment
calling out, “Now, some one shut the door; she is safe and rescued.”
At the instant I sprang on my feet, and in our usual military words in
cases of alarm, roared out in a voice of thunder, “Stand to your arms.”
Colborne was on his feet like a shot, the light of the fire showed me
the room and my delusion, and I said, “Oh, sir, I beg your pardon; I
have been dreaming.” He said, in his noble way, “Never mind, it is
near daylight, and it shows that, asleep or awake, you are intent on
your duty.” He lay down, and was asleep in a moment. I never felt
so oppressed in my life, so vividly was depicted to my mind the scene
described, and I took out of my pocket a little roster of duties and
picquets bound in calf-skin, and noted down the hour and particulars
of my dream. In a few days I received a letter from my afflicted
father,[47] telling me my mother died on Sunday morning, Dec. 12, at
one o’clock, at the very moment I cried out, “Stand to your arms.” Such
is the fact. When I lay down, I was tired and exhausted, as before
expressed. I had not a thought in the world of home or anything, nor
was I prepared for the probability of the event. I presume to make no
remarks on such intimations from God alone, but the whole day I was
heavy and oppressed, nor did I ever shake off the vivid impression
until the receipt of the letter put me in possession of the loss I had
sustained.

[Illustration: SIR HARRY SMITH’S BIRTHPLACE, WHITTLESEY.

(The “Black Door” is seen to the right.)

_From a photograph by A. Gray, Whittlesey, 1900._

[_Opposite p. 156._]

Her dying moments were perfectly composed; to the last she blessed
her two sons engaged in the wars of their country, and died saying,
“Would I could have seen them after their dangers and good conduct!”
Among all our relations and friends we receive kindness and attention
and unbounded love, but the love of a mother is distinct in character;
youth in distress turns to the mother for sympathy and pardon; in
joy it desires to impart its feeling to the mother, who participates
in it with the warmth of a mother’s heart. The mother is the friend,
the counsellor, the pardoner of offences, and, happen what may, the
mother ever clings to her offspring. When I first parted from my
mother to join my Regiment, the French Army was assembled at Boulogne,
and every day was full of news that the French were coming. We dined
early that day, I and my father, who was kindly to accompany me to
Brabourne Lees, in Kent. At dinner I held up manfully. Then I ran to
the stable to part with a beautiful little horse I had reared almost
from a foal—he was thoroughbred, and carried me hunting in such a style
that no one could beat me. I threw my arms round Jack’s neck, and had
a good cry. I saw my poor mother observed what I had been doing, and a
smile of approbation curled upon her placid lip. The awful moment now
approached: the buggy was at the door. I parted with my dear brothers
and sisters (five boys and five girls) tolerably well, my poor mother
glad to observe in me a force of character which _she hoped_ in greater
and more eventful scenes I might evince. It came next to her turn. She
seized me in her arms, and wept awfully. Suddenly, with an effort I
shall never forget, her tears were dried, she held me at arm’s length,
and, gazing at me most intently, said, “I have two favours to ask of
you: one is that you never enter a public billiard-room; the next—our
country is at war—if ever you meet your enemy, remember you are born a
true Englishman. Now, God bless and preserve you, which I hope He will,
and listen to the constant, the fervent prayers, I will offer up for
your welfare.” I exclaimed, “Dear mother, I promise!” God knows the
first request I have honestly fulfilled, the latter I hope I have—at
least, my superiors and comrades ever gave me credit for a bold and
courageous bearing. I returned to her beloved embrace after South
America, and got a commission for my brother Tom, and again to her
nearly naked and a skeleton after the retreat to Coruña. I was covered
with vermin, and had no clothes but those on my back. _To her alone_
did I impart what, although I felt no disgrace, I did not want to be
known. She dressed me, and put me in a hot bath, and we preserved our
secret mutually inviolate. I soon again left her for Talavera, restored
to health by her care, never to see her again, but our intercourse by
letters was constant. The last she received from me was after we had
carried the heights of Vera in such a brilliant manner, and it told
her that for my conduct I was promised the brevet rank of Major. May
every soldier obey the fifth commandment as I did! I never was in a
situation of appalling death, mortality, and danger, but my mother’s
words rang in my ears, “Remember you were born an Englishman.” My dear
wife participated and sympathized in all my grief, for I admit it was
excessive, saying ever, “I have lost father and mother, and my brother
died in my arms of his wounds. Your home and relatives you have still
left, while I live alone for you,—my all, my home, my kindred.”

The morning after my dream [12 Dec.] I was very early at our advanced
posts, and I saw some French soldiers coming on in a very unusual
manner to attack us, while the mass of their force were dismissed in
bivouac. The 1st Caçadores had the advance. I never saw the French
so daring since the retreat to Coruña, and they were most excellent
shots, and actually astonished our Caçadores. Colborne, hearing a smart
firing, rode up, and stopped in the road opposite one of the barricades
of our picquets. I said, “I don’t know what the devil we have got in
our front to-day. Don’t stand there, you will be shot in a moment!”
He laughed, but would not move. In a second a ball went through his
cap just above his noble head. He moved then and laughed. “Look at the
fellows,” he says, “how viciously they come on; it is evident it is no
general attack, for the troops in their bivouac are not under arms.
They want this post.” “Which,” says I, “they will have in ten minutes,
unless I bring up the 2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade,” for our Caçadores
were evidently not equal to their task. Colborne says, “Fetch them!”
In a very short time our Riflemen came up. By this time the enemy had
driven in everything beyond the barricade, and were prepared to assault
it. Our 95th fellows had a few men wounded as they were coming up the
road, before they could be extended, which made them as savage as the
enemy, who were capering about the fields in our front as if drunk.
Our fellows turned to, and soon brought them to repent any pranks or
exposure. We took a few prisoners, and ascertained the Regiment was
the 32nd Voltigeurs, a crack corps of Suchet’s army which had joined
the night before, when we heard all the noise going on in the bivouac.
These gentlemen had ever previously been venturous and laughed at the
tales of British prowess; that morning’s lesson, however, seemed to
have made converts of them, for I never after observed any extra feats
of dancing; but Colborne and all of us were perfectly astonished when
the fact was known, and our 2nd Battalion 95th Regiment were rather
elated in having thus shown themselves such able instructors.

We were very much on the alert all day, and a few shots were exchanged.
At night our picquets were strengthened, for we were not aware if our
friends, the new Voltigeurs, intended a fresh prank. After these three
days’ fighting and vigilance, the enemy withdrew close to Bayonne,
their and our advanced posts being nearly as before. Notwithstanding
the loss of our goose, we had a capital Christmas dinner, at which, of
course, we had the Commissary of the Brigade, and induced him to find
us champagne, which many commissaries were able to do.

CHAPTER XVII.

CAMPAIGN OF 1814: BATTLE OF ORTHEZ—ANECDOTE OF JUANA SMITH.

From the Chateau of Castilleur we moved more into the mountains to the
rear and to our left of Ustaritz, where we never saw the enemy [Jan.
1814]. Our time was spent in shooting, and exploring the mountains.
While we were in this position forage was very scarce, and we chopped
up the furze-bushes very small by way of hay. It is astonishing how it
agreed with the horses. The natives use it in the same way for their
cattle.

We remained in this position until the end of February, when we moved,
reaching Orthez on the 26th. Here our Division had one of the sharpest
skirmishes in a town which I ever saw. Orthez is situated on both sides
of the Gave de Pau and has a bridge, which the enemy held with great
jealousy. On the afternoon of this day, the Duke and his head-quarters
came up. It was his intention to have fought the battle that afternoon,
had the 3rd Division been able to reach its position in time. I heard
the Duke say, “Very well, Murray, if the Division does not arrive in
time, we must delay the attack till to-morrow. However, I must have
a sleep.” He folded his little white cloak round him, and lay down,
saying, “Call me in time, Murray.” Murray awoke the Duke, saying, “It
is too late to-day, my Lord.” “Very well, then, my orders for to-morrow
hold good.”

At dark we withdrew all our posts out of Orthez but a picquet near the
bridge in the town, and at daylight [27 Feb.] we crossed by a pontoon
bridge below Orthez, and marched over difficult ground. We saw the
enemy very strongly posted, both as regards the elevation and the
nature of the ground, which was intersected by large banks and ditches,
while the fences of the field were most admirably calculated for
vigorous defence. As we were moving on the right of the 3rd Division,
Sir Thomas Picton, who was ever ready to find fault with the Light,
rode up to Colonel Barnard. “Who the devil are you?” knowing Barnard
intimately. “We are the Light Division.” “If you are Light, sir, I
wish you would move a little quicker,” said in his most bitter and
sarcastic tone. Barnard says very cool, “Alten commands. But the march
of infantry is quick time, and you cannot accelerate the pace of the
head of the column without doing an injury to the whole. Wherever the
3rd Division are, Sir Thomas, we will be in our places, depend on it.”

We were soon engaged, but less for some time than the troops to our
right and left. I never saw the French fight so hard as this day,
and we were actually making no advance, when the Duke came up, and
ordered the 52nd Regiment to form line and advance. The Battalion was
upwards of seven hundred strong. It deployed into line like clockwork,
and moved on, supported by clouds of sharpshooters. It was the most
majestic advance I ever saw. The French, seeing this line advance so
steadily, were appalled; their fire, which at first was terrific,
gradually decreased as we neared. The Divisions on our right and left
also moved on. The battle was won.

In this advance the 52nd suffered considerably. The present Duke of
Richmond, then Lord March, a Captain in the corps, received a severe
wound in the side; the ball still annoys him. The Duke himself also
got a crack on his knee, which lamed him for several days. When Lord
March lay on the ground after the attack, I went to bring up Maling,
Surgeon of the 52nd Regiment. As soon as he arrived, to my horror, he
poked his forefinger into the wound to trace the course of the ball. At
this moment up rode Lord Fitzroy Somerset, and Lord March’s brother,
Lord George Lennox, awfully affected, believing the wound mortal. Lord
March said, “Maling, tell me if I am mortally wounded, because I have
something I wish to impart to George.” Maling said, “If you will be
quiet, you will do very well.” Maling did not think so. However, Lord
March made a miraculous recovery. I never knew a finer young fellow,
braver or cooler. In those days, he would not have opposed his kind
patron, the Duke, as he did subsequently. That every peer and every
other man should speak out his mind according to his conscience,
I earnestly desire; but, as Duke of Richmond, he opposed the Duke
of Wellington politically in a manner rather partaking of personal
hostility than political consistency.[48] Every admirer of Lord March
in the army, and he had many, lamented the course he pursued.

But to the fight. We drove the enemy in great confusion before us. On
this occasion, I literally lost a Battalion of my Brigade, the 1st
Caçadores, for two days, they got so mixed with the 6th Division. The
night I found them, after much diligence, I and my Brigadier, Barnard,
got into a little sort of inn, kept by an old soldier disabled in
Bonaparte’s Italian campaigns. He did not require to be told the wants
of a soldier, but from habit and sympathy turned to like a “good ’un”
to cook us some dinner. As he was hard at work, he said to Barnard,
“Ah, the French are not always victorious, and I see war now is [not?]
what it was when I served. The Cavalry give way first, then come the
Artillery, and then follow the Infantry in disorder.” He became in the
course of the evening very eloquent over his own wine, and told us some
very amusing stories. The next morning, when Barnard paid him for
everything we had consumed, he was perfectly thunderstruck. I shall
never forget his astonishment or his “Eh bien! monsieur, comme vous
voulez.”

The baggage reached us early the following day [1 March], and in the
afternoon we forded the Adour, which was deep, rapid, and broad. My
wife had ridden over the field of battle, and described it as covered
with dead, dying, and wounded. She observed an extraordinary number
of wounds in the head. These were due to the fact that, owing to the
cover of the high banks before described, the head only was vulnerable
or exposed. She saw one fine fellow of an Artilleryman with both his
arms shot off, which he said occurred while he was ramming down the
cartridge into his own gun. She offered him all she had in the eating
or drinking way, but he most disdainfully refused all.

The same afternoon we made a long and rapid march on Mont de Marsan,
where a Division of Cavalry and Marshal Beresford and his head-quarters
preceded us. We did not reach Mont de Marsan until some hours after
dark. We were ordered to take up quarters for the night, but so full
of Cavalry and head-quarters was the place, and all scattered over
the town, not collected, as we Light Division used to be by streets
and regiments as if on parade, we had great difficulty in getting in
anywhere.

The night was showery, with sleet drifting, frosty and excessively
cold. My poor wife was almost perished. We at last got her into a
comfortable little house, where the poor Frenchwoman, a widow, lighted
a fire, and in about half an hour produced some bouillon in a very
handsome Sèvres slop-basin, saying this had been a present to her many
years ago on the day of her marriage, and that it had never been used
since her husband’s death. She, therefore, wished my wife to know
how happy she was to wait on the nation who was freeing France of
an usurper. The widow was a true “Royaliste,” and we were both most
grateful to the poor woman. The next day we were ordered back to St.
Sever, on the high-road to Toulouse, and parted with our widow with
all mutual concern and gratitude, our baggage being left to follow. We
had a very showery, frosty, and miserable long march over an execrable
road, after which we and Barnard got into a little cottage on the
roadside. At daylight the following morning we were expecting to move,
but, having received no order, we turned to to breakfast, my wife
relating to Barnard the kindness she had received the previous night
and the history of the basin. To our horror in came my servant, Joe
Kitchen, with the identical slop-basin full of milk. The tears rolled
down my wife’s cheeks. Barnard got in a storming passion. I said, “How
dare you, sir, do anything of the sort?” (he was an excellent servant.)
“Lord, sir,” he says, “why, the French soldiers would have carried off
_the widow_, an’ she had been young, and I thought it would be so nice
for the goat’s milk in the morning; she was very angry, though, ’cos I
took it.”

Barnard got on his horse, and rode to head-quarters. About ten o’clock
he came back and said the Duke told him the army would not march until
to-morrow. My wife immediately sent for the trusty groom, old West,
and said, “Bring my horse and yours too, and a feed of corn in your
haversack.” She said to me, “I am going to see an officer who was
wounded the day before yesterday, and if I am not back until late, do
not be alarmed.” Young as she was, I never controlled her desire on
such occasions, having perfect confidence in her superior sense and
seeing her frequently visit our wounded or sick. I went to my Brigade,
having various duties, just before she started. It became dark, she
had not returned, but Barnard would wait dinner for her, saying, “She
will be in directly.” She did arrive soon, very cold and splashed from
hard riding on a very dirty, deep, and wet road. She laughed and said,
“Well, why did you wait dinner? Order it; I shall soon have my habit
off.” Barnard and I exclaimed with one voice, “_Where have you been?_”
“Oh,” she says, “do not be angry, I am not taken prisoner, as you see.
I have been to Mont de Marsan, to take back the poor widow’s basin.” I
never saw a warm-hearted fellow so delighted as Barnard. “Well done,
Juana, you are a heroine. The Maid of Saragossa is nothing to you.” She
said the widow cried exceedingly with joy, but insisted on her now
keeping the basin for the milk, which my wife would on no account do.
She had ridden that day thirty miles and had every reason to expect
to meet a French patrol. I said, “Were you not afraid of being taken
prisoner?” “No, I and West kept a good look-out, and no French dragoon
could catch me on my Spanish horse, Tiny.” She was tired from the
excessive cold, but the merit of her act sustained her as much as it
inspired us with admiration. The story soon got wind, and the next day
every officer in the Division loaded her with praise. It was a kind and
noble act which few men, much less a delicate girl of sixteen, would
have done under all the circumstances. Our worthy friend, Bob Digby, of
the 52nd Regiment, Barnard’s A.D.C., overhearing my wife’s orders to
West, after she had started, most kindly followed and joined my wife on
the road, for, as he said, he was alarmed lest she should fall in with
a patrol.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CAMPAIGN OF 1814: AT GÉE, NEAR AIRE—BATTLE OF TARBES—BATTLE OF
TOULOUSE—END OF THE WAR.

On our advance [9 March, etc.], we were for some days at a village
called Gée, near Aire, where the 2nd Division, under Sir W. Stewart,
had a brilliant little affair.

But I must first interpose an anecdote. One of his A.D.C.’s, his
nephew, Lord Charles Spencer, a Lieutenant of the 95th Regiment, was
mounted on a very valuable horse which he had paid more for than he
could afford, contrary to the advice of Sir William. In driving the
French through the town, Lord Charles’s horse was shot on the bank of a
large pond, into which he himself was thrown head foremost. (The fire
at this moment was very heavy, and in a street more balls take effect
than in the open.) Sir William very quietly says, “Ha, there goes my
poor nephew and all his fortune,” alluding to the price he paid for his
horse.

I have often heard Colonel Colborne (Lord Seaton) affirm that if he
were asked to name the bravest man he had ever seen (and _no one_ was
a better judge), he should name Sir William Stewart. Although he gave
me my commission, I never saw him under fire. If he exceeded in bravery
my dear friend, Sir Edward Pakenham, he was gallant indeed. Pakenham’s
bravery was of that animated, intrepid cast that he applied his mind
vigorously at the moment to the position of his own troops as well as
to that of the enemy, and by judicious foresight ensured success, but
he never avoided a fight of any sort.

The village of Gée was to the right of the high-road to Toulouse, the
River [Adour] running to our right. The Cavalry were posted on the main
road, their advance vedettes looking on to the village of [Tarsac?]
where the enemy were very alert and obstinate in resisting our approach.

On the day the army advanced,[49] the French Cavalry made a fierce
resistance in the village, and when driven out, made some desperate
charges on the chaussée, in one of which the officer in command was
cut down while gallantly leading his Squadron. An officer of our 15th
Hussars (I think Booth), having admired his gallant bearing, dismounted
to his assistance. He said he believed he was not mortally wounded,
and he requested to be carried to the Chateau in the village he had
so gallantly fought for, where his father and family resided. This
peculiar tale may be relied on, like everything else, as I hope,
which I have asserted. For several days it was the usual topic of
conversation, and when any one came from the rear, inquiry was always
made if the French Captain who was wounded and in his fathers house,
(we never knew his name), was doing well. We learnt afterwards that he
perfectly recovered, but the sword wound had stamped him with a deep
scar.

At Gée we had several alerts, and our baggage for some successive days
was loaded for hours. On one of these occasions the old housekeeper of
a large house which Barnard occupied, and whom he had paid for many a
fat fowl and fish out of tanks, etc., came into the room where my wife
remained waiting to join the troops, seized my wife and vowed she would
put her to death, grasping her with a fiend-like strength. Fortunately,
at this moment my servant returned to say the Division were not to
march, and rescued my poor affrighted and delicate wife. We afterwards
learnt that this violent woman, if anything excited her, was afflicted
with temporary insanity, and she had been put in a rage below, and came
up to vent her spleen on my poor wife. We were in this house for two or
three days after, but my wife had been so alarmed she would never allow
her servant to quit her. The latter was a powerful woman of the 52nd,
rejoicing in the name of Jenny Bates.

While in this village, Charlie Beckwith, the Q.M.G., came to me and
said, “Harry, I want a Company for picquet immediately.” I named the
Corps, 1st Battalion 95th, who had one ready accoutred in waiting,
as we always had in positions subject to alerts. It was out in five
minutes, and Charlie Beckwith marched to point out where the officer
commanding was to post it. I invariably went out with every picquet
when possible. On this occasion I had other duty. In the afternoon
I got on my horse to look for my picquet. I met Charlie Beckwith in
the village. He said, “I will ride with you.” We did not find the
picquet where we expected—on our side of a bridge (beyond which was
a comfortable village). Having heard no firing, we were not alarmed
for the safety of the Company, still we could not find it. We rode to
the bridge, the object of the officer’s watch, saying, “There will
surely be a sentry upon it.” We rode up and found one certainly, but on
the enemy’s side. We asked where the Company was. The vedette was an
Irishman. “By Jasus, the Captain’s the boy. It was so rainy and cold on
the plain, he harboured us all comfortably, like the man that he is,
in the village.” The French were in the habit of patrolling into this
village in force, and, although the Captain had so posted himself as I
do believe he would have been able to hold his own until the Division
came up, it would have cost us a fight to rescue him from the far side
of the bridge, which he ought never to have crossed. So the Captain
got a blowing-up, and the Company had to make their fires in a cold,
wet, and miserable bivouac. I never had a picquet out from the Brigade
without visiting it so as to judge how it was posted, and how to
withdraw it either at night or in case of abrupt necessity.

We had also a sharp skirmish at Vic Begorre, but the brunt of it fell
on the 3rd Division, where one of the most able officers got himself
killed where he had no business to be—Major Sturgeon, of the Staff. I
hold nothing to be more unsoldierlike than for officers well mounted
to come galloping in among our skirmishers. The officers of companies
have always some little exertion to restrain impetuosity, and your
galloping gentlemen set our men wild sometimes. We Light Division,
while ever conspicuous for undaunted bravery, prided ourselves upon
destroying the enemy and preserving ourselves; for good, light troops,
like deer-stalkers, may effect feats of heroism by stratagem, ability,
and cool daring.

At Tarbes [20 March] we fell in with the enemy, strongly posted,
but evidently only a rear-guard in force. The Duke made immediate
dispositions to attack them, and so mixed up did we appear, that we
concluded a large number of the enemy must be cut off. The Light
Division, however, alone succeeded in getting up with them. Our three
Battalions of the 95th were most sharply engaged. Three successive
times the enemy, with greatly superior force, endeavoured to drive
them off a hill, but the loss of the enemy from the fire of our Rifles
was so great that one could not believe one’s eyes. I certainly had
never seen the dead lie so thick, nor ever did, except subsequently at
Waterloo. Barnard even asked the Duke to ride over the hill and see
the sight, which he consented to do, saying, “Well, Barnard, to please
you, I will go, but I require no novel proof of the destructive fire of
your Rifles.”

At this period we lived capitally. It was delightful to see one of our
soldiers with a piece of cold bacon, slicing it over his bread like an
English haymaker.

We had at this time exceedingly wet weather. Notwithstanding the
fulness of the Garonne, however, after a feint or two and some skilful
demonstrations to deceive the enemy, the Duke succeeded [4 April]
in throwing over the 3rd, 4th, and 6th Divisions with as much ease
as he had previously overcome what seemed to others insurmountable
difficulties. These Divisions were strongly posted under Marshal
Beresford as a _tête du pont_. They were barely established on the
opposite side when such a torrent of rain fell, our bridge could
not stem the flood. It was hauled to the shore, and, of course, our
communication cut off. Marshal Beresford had every reason to apprehend
an attack, for the enemy, being in his own country, possessed perfect
information, and would know the moment the bridge was impassable.
The Marshal wrote very strongly to the Duke, who was ferried over in
a little boat with one or two of his Staff, while their horses swam
across. His Grace quickly but narrowly examined the position, which
was excellent, behind a very difficult ravine. “Beresford,” said the
Duke, “you are safe enough; two such armies as Soult’s could make no
impression on you. Be assured, he is too clever a General to attempt to
drive you into the river.” Our Division was immediately opposite the
bridge, but on the left, or opposite bank, to the Marshal. The river
soon subsided sufficiently to enable us to relay the bridge, and at
daylight on the 10th of April the Light Division crossed, followed by
the remainder of the army, except Lord Hill’s corps, which was posted
on the Pyrenees side of Toulouse. It was evidently the Duke’s intention
to attack Soult’s position this day. Nor were we long on the march
before each general officer had his point of rendezvous designated.

The battle of Toulouse [10 April] has been so often fought and
refought, I shall only make two or three remarks. Sir Thomas Picton,
as usual, attacked when he ought not, and lost men. The Spaniards
made three attacks on a very important part of the enemy’s position
defended by a strong redoubt. The first was a very courageous though
unsuccessful attack; the second, a most gallant, heavy, and persevering
one, and had my dear old Light Division been pushed forward on the
right of the Spaniards in place of remaining inactive, that attack of
the Spaniards would have succeeded. I said so at the moment. The third
attempt of the Spaniards was naturally, after two such repulses, a
very poor one. At this period, about two o’clock in the afternoon, the
Duke’s Staff began to look grave, and all had some little disaster to
report to His Grace, who says, “Ha, by God, this won’t do; I must try
something else.” We then saw the heads of the 4th and 6th Divisions
coming into action immediately on the right flank of the enemy, having
been conducted to that particular and vulnerable spot by that gallant,
able, and accomplished soldier, my dear friend, John Bell, A.Q.M.G.,
4th Division.

I must record an anecdote of John. He was mounted on a noble English
hunter, but the most violent and difficult horse to manage I ever
rode to hounds, and would of course, in a fight, be equally so. This
animal knew by the mode in which she was mounted whether her rider was
an artist or not, and in a moment would throw her rider down by way
of fun. Colonel Achmuty, a noble fellow, would ride John Bell’s horse
awkwardly, and she would then plunge like a devil, but if _ridden_, she
was as quiet as possible. John Bell had on this horse a very large and
high-peaked Hussar saddle, with his cloak strapped on the pique before,
a favourite mode of General Robert Craufurd, who indeed gave Bell the
identical saddle. Over this pique Craufurd’s black muzzle could barely
be discovered (he was a short man), so entrenched was he. In conducting
their Divisions, the Staff officers moved on small roads through a
country intersected by deep and broad ditches full of water. Many of
them attempted to ride on the flanks, but no one succeeded but Bell on
his fiery horse. At one ditch John Bell was fairly pitched over the
pique on to the neck of his horse, a powerful mare six feet high. “Oh,”
says John, in telling this story, “Ah, to get there was extraordinary,
but wait! The horse tossed up her head, and by some violent exertion
pitched me over the pique back again to my saddle.” “Oh, John!” I
exclaimed, “how is that possible?” “With that, Harry, I have nothing to
do.”

But to the fight. The 4th and 6th Divisions were brought up in most
gallant style, carrying redoubt after redoubt, which were ably defended
by the enemy. It was the heaviest fighting I ever looked at, slow
owing to the redoubts. The ground was gained step by step, and so was
the battle of Toulouse. Our Cavalry lost a brilliant opportunity of
distinguishing themselves and punishing the rearguard of the French.

This battle appeared to me then, and does the more I reflect on it, the
only battle the Duke ever fought without a weight of attack and general
support. It was no fault of the Duke’s. There are fortunate days in
war as in other things. Our attacks were commenced by that of the 3rd
Division; then came those of the Spaniards, in which the Light Division
did not support as the 4th Division supported us at the heights of
Vera. Thus, until the afternoon, we literally had done rather worse
than nothing. The success of this battle is to be attributed mainly
to the 4th and 6th Divisions, but I will ever assert that the second
attack was most heavy and energetic, and would have succeeded if my
dear old Division had been shoved up. As a whole, the French lost a
great number of men and were thoroughly defeated. The French have now
agitated a claim to the victory, which they are as much borne out in as
they would be in claiming the victory at Waterloo.

The next day [11 March] various were the reports flying about camp
as to peace, etc. In the afternoon I was posting a picquet, and in
riding forward no nearer than usual to a French sentry, the fellow most
deliberately fired at me. I took off my cocked hat and made him a low
bow. The fellow, in place of reloading his musket, presented arms to
me, evidently ashamed of what he had done.

Peace was soon made known. The French moved out of Toulouse, and we
occupied it. (The most slippery pavement to ride over in Europe is that
of the streets of Toulouse.) My Division was most comfortably cantoned
in the suburbs. I and my wife, and two or three of my dear old Rifle
comrades—Jack Molloy and young Johnstone (not the Rifle hero of Badajos
and Ciudad Rodrigo, old Willie)—had a delightfully furnished château.
We got a French cook, and were as extravagant and wanton in our ideas
as lawless sailors just landed from a long cruise. The feeling of no
war, no picquets, no alerts, no apprehension of being turned out, was
so novel after six years’ perpetual and vigilant war, it is impossible
to describe the sensation. Still, it was one of momentary anxiety,
seeing around us the promptitude, the watchfulness, the readiness with
which we could move and be in a state of defence or attack. It was so
novel that at first it was positively painful—at least, I can answer
for myself in this feeling. I frequently deemed the old Division in
danger, who had never even lost a picquet, or, to my recollection, a
sentry, after so many years’ outpost duty.

We had one melancholy duty to wind up our period of war—the funeral of
poor Colonel Coghlan, 61st Regiment. The officers of the army attended,
the Duke himself as chief mourner. Many is the gallant fellow we had
all seen left on the field or with some trifling ceremony consigned to
his long home; but this funeral, in the midst of a populous city, in a
graveyard, after a ceremony in a Protestant chapel, where the corpse
was placed, in the custom of our home and infancy, while the service
was read by a clergyman, after death in the last battle, and nearly at
the end of it, too—all so tended to excite our comrade-like feelings,
it positively depressed us all, for the love a soldier bears another
tried and gallant soldier is more than fraternal.

Toulouse, a royalist city, soon rushed into the extravagant and
vivacious joy of France. We had theatres, balls, fêtes, etc., until
the army moved into regular cantonments. There we had plenty of room
and quarters, no squabbling about the shade of a tree in bivouac, or
your stable being previously occupied by cavalry or artillery horses.
Abundance of food, drink, and raiment, and the indolence of repose,
succeeded the energetic and exciting occupation of relentless and cruel
war. I had a safeguard in a lovely young wife; but most of our gallant
fellows were really in love, or fancied themselves so, and such had
been the drain by conscription of the male population, you never saw
a young Frenchman. The rich and fertile fields in this part of France
were cultivated by female exertion.

My Division went to Castel Sarrasin [towards the end of April]. This
place is situated on the Tarne, which divides it from Marsac, where
were a body of French troops; but, as they seldom came to visit us,
we seldom encroached upon them, for the Napoleonist officers were
brutally sulky and so uncivil, John Bull could not put up with it
with impunity. This part of France is a garden, and the views, trees,
beautiful rivers, etc., and the idleness rendered it a perfect Elysium.
I say “idleness;”—because it was so totally novel, it was amusing.
Fortunately—for we were _nine months_ in arrear of pay—money was so
scarce that a trifle of ready money produced a great deal. Among the
rich inhabitants money was never seen, any more than young men. Rents
were paid in produce, wages in kind, purchases made by barter. Oh,
dear John Bull, grumbling, still liberal John Bull, had you witnessed,
felt, and suffered all this, and then had the best rooms in your house
occupied by soldiers (for, however orderly, there is much riot and
fun ever going on amongst them), you would now wear the yoke of the
national debt as a light burden!

CHAPTER XIX.

HARRY SMITH PARTS FROM HIS WIFE BEFORE STARTING FOR THE WAR IN AMERICA.

My happiness of indolence and repose was doomed to be of short
duration, for on the 28th of August I was in the Battle of Bladensburg,
and at the capture of the American capital, Washington, some thousands
of miles distant. Colborne, my ever dear, considerate friend, then in
command of his gallant Corps, the 52nd, sent for me, and said, “You
have been so unlucky, after all your gallant and important service,
in not getting your Majority, you must not be idle. There is a force,
a considerable one, going to America. You must go. To-morrow we will
ride to Toulouse to headquarters; send a horse on to-night—it is only
thirty-four miles—we will go there and breakfast, and ride back to
dinner.” I said, very gratefully, “Thank you, sir; I will be ready.
This is a kind act of yours;” but as I knew I must leave behind my
young, fond and devoted wife, my heart was ready to burst, and all my
visions for our mutual happiness were banished in search of the bubble
reputation. I shall never forget her frenzied grief when, with a sort
of despair, I imparted the inevitable separation that we were doomed
to suffer, after all our escapes, fatigue, and privation; but a sense
of duty surmounted all these domestic feelings, and daylight saw me
and dear Colborne full gallop thirty-four miles to breakfast. We were
back again at Castel Sarrasin by four in the afternoon, after a little
canter of sixty-eight miles, not regarded as any act of prowess, but
just a ride. In those days there were men.

On our arrival in Toulouse, we found my name rather high up—the third,
I think—on the list of Majors of Brigade in the A.G.’s office desirous
to serve in America. We asked kind old Darling who had put my name
down. He said, “Colonel Elley,” afterwards Sir John. He had known my
family in early life, and was ever paternally kind to me. He had asked
my ever dear friend, General Sir Edward Pakenham, to do so, which he
readily did. Colborne then said, “My old friend Ross, who commanded
the 20th Regiment while I was Captain of the Light Company, is going.
I will go and ask him to take you as his Major of Brigade.” Ross knew
me on the retreat to Coruña, and the affair, in a military point of
view, was satisfactorily settled. But oh! the heaviness of my heart
when I had to impart the separation now decided on to my affectionate
young wife of seventeen years old! She bore it, as she did everything,
when the energies of her powerful mind were called forth, exclaiming,
“It is for your advantage, and neither of us must repine. All your
friends have been so kind in arranging the prospect before you so
satisfactorily.” At the word “friends” she burst into a flood of tears,
which relieved her, exclaiming, “You have friends everywhere. I must be
expatriated, separated from relations, go among strangers, while I lose
the only thing on earth my life hangs on and clings to!”

Preparation was speedily made for our journey down the Garonne, which
we performed in a small boat, accompanied by our kind friend Digby. My
wife was to accompany me to Bordeaux, there to embark for England with
my brother Tom, who had recently suffered excessively in the extraction
of the ball he had received in his knee five years previously at the
Coa. The great difficulty I had was to get my regimental pay (nine
months being due to me), and I only did so through the kindness of our
acting-paymaster, Captain Stewart, and every officer readily saying,
“Oh, give us so much less the first issue, and let Smith have what
would otherwise come to us.” Such an act, I say, testifies to the
mutual friendship and liberality we acquired amidst scenes of glory,
hardship, and privation.

Before I left my old Brigade, the 52nd Regiment, the 95th Regiment
(Rifle Brigade now), the 1st and 3rd Caçadores,[50] with whom I had
been so many eventful years associated—and I may say, most happily—all
gave me a parting dinner, including the good fellows, the Portuguese,
whom I never had any chance of seeing again. Our farewell dinner
partook of every feeling of excitement. The private soldiers, too,
were most affectionate, and I separated from all as from my home. The
Portuguese are a brave, kind-hearted people, and most susceptible of
kindness. We had also ten men a Company in our British Regiments,
Spaniards, many of them the most daring of sharpshooters in our corps,
who nobly regained the distinction attached to the name of the Spanish
infantry in Charles V.’s time. I never saw better, more orderly,
perfectly sober soldiers in my life, and as vedettes the old German
Hussar did not exceed them. The 52nd Regiment I was as much attached to
as my own corps, with every reason.

My old 1st Battalion embarked at Dover just before Talavera, 1050 rank
and file. During the war only 100 men joined us. We were now reduced to
about 500. There was scarcely a man who had not been wounded. There was
scarcely one whose knowledge of his duty as an outpost soldier was not
brought to a state of perfection, and when they were told they must not
drink, a drunken man was a rare occurrence indeed, as rare as a sober
one when we dare give a little latitude. My old Brigade was equal to
turn the tide of victory (as it did at Orthez) any day.

It was early in May when we left Castel Sarrasin, where we had been
happy (oh, most happy!) for a month—an _age_ in the erratic life
we had been leading. We were quartered in the house of a Madame La
Rivière, an excellent and motherly woman, a widow with a large family
and only one son spared to her—the rest had perished as soldiers.
Never was there a more happy and cheerful family, and never did mother
endeavour to soothe the acute feelings of a daughter more than did this
good lady those of my poor wife. We often afterwards heard of her in
Paris in 1815.

Our voyage down the Garonne in our little skiff was delightful. We
anchored every night. In youth everything is novel and exciting, and
our voyage was such a change after marching! The beauties of the
scenery, and the drooping foliage on the banks of the river, added
to our enjoyment. We landed each night at some town or village, and
ever found a comfortable inn which could give us a dinner. After such
privations as ours, the delight of being able to order dinner at an inn
is not to be believed. On reaching Bordeaux, the most beautiful city I
was ever in, I found I had only three or four days to prepare to reach
the fleet and the troops embarked in the Gironde (a continuation of
the Garonne), and that I was to embark on board his Majesty’s ship the
_Royal Oak_, 74, Rear-Admiral Malcolm, for the troops under General
Ross were destined for a peculiar and separate service in America. I
did, of course, all I could to draw the attention of my poor wife from
the approaching separation. There was a theatre, various spectacles,
sights, etc., but all endeavour was vain to relieve the mind one
instant from the awful thought of that one word “separation.” Digby
was most kind to her. He had an excellent private servant, who was to
embark with her for London. My brother Tom was to her all a brother
could be, and in the transport she was to proceed in were several old
and dear Rifle friends going to England from wounds. I wished her to
go to London for some time before going down to my father’s, for the
benefit of masters to learn English, etc.—for not a word could she
speak but her own language, French, and Portuguese,—and to every wish
she readily assented.

Time rolls rapidly on to the goal of grief, and the afternoon arrived
when I must ride twenty miles on my road for embarcation. Many a year
has now gone by, still the recollection of that afternoon is as fresh
in my memory as it was painful at the moment—oh, how painful! To see
that being whose devotedness in the field of three years’ eventful war,
in a life of such hardship at the tender age of fourteen, had been
the subject of wonder to the whole community, in a state bordering on
despair, possessing, as she did, the strong and enthusiastic feelings
of her country-women—who love with a force cooler latitudes cannot
boast of—_this_ was to me an awful trial, and although she had every
prospect of care and kindness, to be _separated_ conveyed to the
sensitive mind of youth (for I was only twenty-four[51]) every anguish
and horror that is to be imagined. I left her insensible and in a
faint. God only knows the number of staggering and appalling dangers I
had faced; but, thank the Almighty, I never was unmanned until now, and
I leaped on my horse by that impulse which guides the soldier to do his
duty.

I had a long ride before me on the noble mare destined to embark with
me. On my way I reached a village where I received the attention of
a kind old lady, who from her age had been exempt from having any
troops quartered on her; but, the village being full of Rifle Brigade,
Artillery, and Light Division fellows, the poor old lady was saddled
with me. The Artillery readily took charge of my horse. The kind old
grandmamma showed me into a neat little bedroom and left me. I threw
myself on the bed as one _alone_ in all the wide world, a feeling
never before experienced, when my eye caught some prints on the wall.
What should they be but pictures in representation of the _Sorrows of
Werther_, and, strange though it be, they had the contrary effect upon
me to that which at the first glance I anticipated. They roused me from
my sort of lethargy of grief and inspired a hope which never after
abandoned me. The good lady had a nice little supper of _côtelettes de
mouton_, and the most beautiful strawberries I ever saw, and she opened
a bottle of excellent wine. To gratify her I swallowed by force all I
could, for her kindness was maternal.

We soon parted for ever, for I was on horseback before daylight, _en
route_ to Pauillac, a village on the Garonne, where we were to embark.
On my ride, just at grey daylight, I saw something walking in the air.
“It is like a man,” I said, “certainly, only that men do not walk in
the air.” It advanced towards me with apparently rapid strides, and in
the excited state of mind I was in, I really believed I was deluded,
and ought not to believe _what I saw_. Suspense was intolerable, and I
galloped up to it. As I neared my aeronaut, I found it a man walking
on stilts about twenty-five feet high. In the imperfect light and the
distance, of course the stilts were invisible. The phenomenon was
accounted for, and my momentary credulity in I did not know what called
to mind stories I had heard recounted, evidently the results of heated
imaginations. This walking on stilts is very general in the deep sands
of this country.

On reaching Pauillac, I found my trusty old groom West waiting for
me. He led me to a comfortable billet, where my portmanteau, all my
worldly property, and my second horse, which was to embark with me,
were reported “All right, sir.” Old West did not ask after “Mrs.,” but
he looked at me a thousand inquiries, to which I shook my head. I found
a note for me at our military post-office from dear little Digby, as
consolatory as I could expect.

I was detained two days at Pauillac, in the house of another widow,
an elderly lady (all women in France of moderate or certain age were
widows at this period). One morning I heard a most extraordinary shout
of joyful exclamation, so much so I ran into the room adjoining the one
I was sitting in. The poor old woman says, “Oh, come in and witness
my happiness!” She was locked in the arms of a big, stout-looking,
well-whiskered Frenchman. “Here is my son, oh! my long-lost son, who
has been a [prisoner] in England from the beginning of the war.” The
poor fellow was a _sous-officier_ in a man-of-war, and, having been
taken early in the war off Boulogne, for years he had been in those
accursed monsters of inhuman invention, “the hulks,” a prisoner. He
made no complaint. He said England had no other place to keep their
prisoners, that they were well fed when fed by the English, but when,
by an arrangement with France at her own request, that Government fed
them, they were half starved. The widow gave a great dinner-party at
two o’clock, to which I was of course invited. The poor old lady said,
“Now let us drink some of this wine: it was made the year my poor son
was taken prisoner. I vowed it should never be opened until he was
restored to me, and this day I have broached the cask.” The wine was
excellent. If all the wine-growers had sons taken prisoners, and kept
it thus until their release, the world would be well supplied with good
wine in place of bad. Poor family! it was delightful to witness their
happiness, while I could but meditate on the contrast between it and my
wretchedness. But I lived in hope.

CHAPTER XX.

VOYAGE TO BERMUDA—RENDEZVOUS IN THE CHESAPEAKE—BATTLE OF
BLADENSBURG AND CAPTURE OF WASHINGTON—HARRY SMITH SENT HOME
WITH DISPATCHES.

That afternoon, after seeing my horses off, I embarked in a boat, and
I and all my personal property, my one portmanteau, reached the _Royal
Oak_, at her anchorage a few miles below, about eight o’clock. I found
General Ross had not arrived, but was hourly expected. We soldiers had
heard such accounts of the etiquette required in a man-of-war, the
rigidity with which it was exacted, etc., that I was half afraid of
doing wrong in anything I said or did. When I reached the quarters, the
officer of the watch asked my name, and then, in the most gentlemanlike
and unaffected manner, the lieutenant of the watch, Holmes (with whom
I afterwards became very intimate), showed me aft into the Admiral’s
cabin. Here I saw wine, water, spirits, etc., and at the end of the
table sat the finest-looking specimen of an English sailor I ever saw.
This was Admiral Malcolm, and near him sat Captain Dick, an exceedingly
stout man, a regular representation of John Bull. They both rose
immediately, and welcomed me on board in such an honest and hospitable
manner, that I soon discovered the etiquette consisted in nothing but
a marked endeavour to make us all happy. The fact is that Army and
Navy had recently changed places. When I joined the Army, it was just
at a time when our Navy, after a series of brilliant victories, had
destroyed at Trafalgar the navy of the world. Nine years had elapsed,
and the glories of the Army were so fully appreciated by our gallant
brothers of the sea service, we were now by them regarded as the heroes
whom I well recollect I thought them to be in 1805.

The Admiral says, “Come, sit down and have a glass of grog.” I was so
absorbed in the thought that this large floating ship was to bear me
away from all I held so dear, that down I sat, and seized a bottle
(gin, I believe), filled a tumbler half full, and then added some
water. “Well done!” says the Admiral. “I have been at sea, man and
boy, these forty years, but d—— me, if I ever saw a stiffer glass
of grog than that in my life.” He afterwards showed me my cabin,
telling me he was punctual in his hours. “I breakfast at eight, dine
at three, have tea in the evening, and grog at night, as you see; and
if you are thirsty or want anything, my steward’s name is Stewart, a
Scotchman like myself—tell the Marine at the cabin door to call him
and desire him to bring you everything you want.” I shall never forget
the kindness I received on board the _Royal Oak_, and subsequently on
board the _Menelaus_ (commanded by poor Sir Peter Parker), and from
every ship and every sailor with whom I became associated. Our Navy are
noble fellows, and their discipline and the respect on board for rank
are a bright example to the more familiar habits of our Army.

General Ross arrived next morning, with his A.D.C., Tom Falls, a
Captain in the 20th, and Lieut. De Lacy Evans (subsequently of great
notoriety), both as good-hearted fellows as ever wore a sword. The
fleet sailed in the afternoon. The troops all embarked in men-of-war,
with the lower-deck guns out. We had on board a Company of Artillery;
otherwise the force consisted of the 4th Regiment, the 44th, and the
85th. We had a very slow but beautiful passage to St. Michael’s, one of
the Western Islands, where, as Admiral Malcolm said, “that d——d fellow
Clavering, the Duke of York’s enemy, had the impudence to call on me,”
and we embarked live bullocks, fruit, and vegetables.

The parts capable of cultivation in this island are most fertile, and
the inhabitants (all Portuguese) looked cheerful and happy. I could
then speak Portuguese like a native. One day on shore I walked into a
large draper’s shop, where I was quite struck by the resemblance of the
man behind the counter to my old clerk, Sergeant Manuel. After some
little conversation, I discovered he actually was his brother. At first
I doubted it, but he fetched me a bundle of letters in which my name
frequently appeared. It was an extraordinary rencontre, and my friend
Señor Manuel’s attention to me was very “gostozo” indeed.

We sailed for Bermuda in a few days. It was a long passage, but we had
fine weather until we neared Bermuda, when we fell in with a violent
thunderstorm, which carried away the mizen topmast of the _Royal Oak_.

Much of my time was spent with my friend Holmes, and many is the time
I have walked the quarter-deck with him. In any state of grief or
excitement, some one who participates and sympathizes in your feeling
is always sought for, and this warm-hearted fellow fully entered
into all I must feel at the fate of my wife—a foreigner in a foreign
land, to whom, though surrounded by many kind friends, everything was
strange, everything brought home the absence of that being on whom her
life depended.

On reaching Bermuda we found the 21st Regiment awaiting us, and a
communication from the Admiral, Cochrane, Commander-in-chief of
the Navy (who commanded on the coast of America 170 Pennons of all
descriptions), that a Battalion of Marines was organized under Colonel
Malcolm, the Admiral’s brother, upwards of 800 strong, so that General
Ross’s force became respectable. The Admiral proposed to _rendezvous_
in Chesapeake Bay so soon as possible.

Ross organized his force into three Brigades, one commanded by Colonel
Thornton, the second by Colonel Brooke, the third, which comprised all
Naval auxiliaries, by Colonel Malcolm. A Brigade-Major was appointed
to each. I was put in orders Deputy Adjutant-General; Evans, Deputy
Quartermaster-General. The price of things on this spot in the ocean
was enormous; I, Evans, Macdougall, of the 85th, Holmes of the Navy,
etc., dined on shore at the inn one day, and were charged fifteen
Spanish dollars for a miserable turkey; but the excellent fish called a
“groper” made up for the price of the turkey.

General Ross left the troops here, and proceeded to join the Naval
Commander-in-chief in a frigate. I was the only Staff officer left
with Admiral Malcolm, who was quite as much a soldier in heart as a
sailor; he prided himself very much on having brought home the Duke of
Wellington (when Sir A. Wellesley) from India, and he landed his army
at Mondego Bay, before Vimiera. I never saw a man sleep so little: four
hours a night was plenty, and half that time he would talk aloud in his
sleep, and if you talked with him would answer correctly, although next
morning he recollected nothing.

To get from the anchorage at Bermuda is difficult, and the wind was
contrary, and appeared so likely to continue so, that the Admiral
resolved on the boldest thing that was ever attempted, viz. to take
the whole fleet through the North-east Passage—a thing never done but
by one single frigate. There was only one man in the island who would
undertake to pilot the 74 _Royal Oak_ through. The passage is most
intricate, and the pilot directs the helmsman by ocular demonstration,
that is, by looking into the water at the rocks. It was the most
extraordinary thing ever seen, the rocks visible under water all round
the ship. Our pilot, a gentleman, said there was only one part of the
passage which gave him any apprehension. There was a turn in it, and
he was afraid the _Royal Oak_ was so long her bows would touch. When
her rudder was clear, on my honour, there appeared not a foot to spare.
The breeze was very light; at one period, for half an hour, it almost
died away. The only expression the Admiral was heard to make use of
was, “Well, if the breeze fails us, it will be a good turn I have done
the Yankees.” He certainly was a man of iron nerves. The fleet all got
through without one ship touching. The Admiral’s tender, a small sloop,
ran on a rock, but was got off without injury.

At night, after the fleet was well clear (and the bold attempt was of
every importance to the success of our expedition, which, as we now
began to observe, evidently meditated the capture of Washington), we
had rather a good passage to the mouth of the Chesapeake, where we
met the Admiral Chief in Command and General Ross. We did not anchor,
having a leading wind to take us up the bay. We were going ten knots
when the frigate struck on the tail of a bank, with a crash like an
earthquake; she got over, however, without injury. We anchored off the
mouth of the Patuxen, the river which leads to Washington.

Next day all the Staff were assembled on board the _Tonnant_, and all
the Admirals came on board. We had present—Sir A. Cochrane, Admiral
Cockburn (of great renown on the American coast), Admiral Malcolm,
Admiral Codrington, Captain of the Fleet, and, if I recollect right,
Sir T. Hardy, but he left us next day. After much discussion and poring
over bad maps, it was resolved the force should sail up the serpentine
and wooded Patuxen in the frigates and smaller vessels. This we did,
and it was one of the most beautiful sights the eye could behold. The
course of the large river was very tortuous, the country covered with
immense forest trees; thus, to look back, the appearance was that
of a large fleet stalking through a wood. We went up as far as we
could, and the Navy having very dexterously and gallantly burned and
destroyed Commodore Barney’s flotilla, which was drawn up to oppose our
passage [19, 20 Aug.], the army was landed about thirty-six miles from
Washington. I cannot say my dear friend General Ross inspired me with
the opinion he was the officer Colborne regarded him as being. He was
very cautious in responsibility—awfully so, and lacked that dashing
enterprise so essential to carry a place by a _coup de main_. He died
the death of a gallant soldier, as he was, and friendship for the man
must honour the manes of the brave.

We fell in with the enemy on our second day’s march, well posted on the
eastern bank. We were told that the only approach to their position
was by a bridge through the village of Bladensburg. The day we landed,
a most awful spectacle of a man named Calder came in to give us
information. He was given in my charge, the secret service department
having been confided to me. The poor wretch was covered with leprosy,
and I really believe was induced to turn traitor to his country in the
hope of receiving medical [aid] from our surgeons, in the miserable
state of disease he was in. If such was his object, he is partly to be
pardoned. He was a very shrewd, intelligent fellow, and of the utmost
use to us. He was afterwards joined by a young man of the name of
Brown, as healthy a looking fellow as he was the reverse, who was very
useful to us as a guide and as a scout.

When the head of the Light Brigade reached the rising ground, above
the bridge, Colonel Thornton immediately proposed to attack, which
astonished me [Battle of Bladensburg, 24 Aug.], We old Light Division
always took a good look before we struck, that we might find a
vulnerable part. I was saying to General Ross we should make a feint
at least on the enemy’s left flank, which rested on the river higher
up, and I was in the act of pointing out the position, guns, etc.,
when Colonel Thornton again proposed to move on. I positively laughed
at him. He got furiously angry with me; when, to my horror and
astonishment, General Ross consented to this isolated and premature
attack. “Heavens!” says I, “if Colborne was to see this!” and I could
not refrain from saying, “General Ross, neither of the other Brigades
can be up in time to support this mad attack, and if the enemy fight,
Thornton’s Brigade must be repulsed.” It happened just as I said.
Thornton advanced, under no cloud of sharpshooters, such as we Light
Division should have had, to make the enemy unsteady and render their
fire ill-directed. They were strongly posted behind redoubts and
in houses, and reserved their fire until Thornton was within fifty
yards. Thornton was knocked over, and Brown, commanding the 85th Light
Infantry, and Captain Hamilton, a noble fellow from the 52nd, were
killed, and the attack repulsed. “There,” says I, “there is the art of
war and all we have learned under the Duke given in full to the enemy!”
Thornton’s Brigade was ordered to hold its own until the arrival of the
Brigade consisting of the 4th and 44th under Brooke, many men having
dropped down dead on the march from the heat, being fat and in bad wind
from having been so long on board. As the Brigades closed up, General
Ross says, “Now, Smith, do you stop and bring into action the other two
Brigades as fast as possible.” “Upon what points, sir?” He galloped
to the head of Thornton’s people, and said, “Come on, my boys,” and
was the foremost man until the victory was complete. He had two horses
shot under him, and was shot in the clothes in two or three places. I
fed the fight for him with every possible vigour. Suffice it to say we
licked the Yankees and took all their guns, with a loss of upwards of
300 men, whereas Colborne would have done the same thing with probably
a loss of 40 or 50, and we entered Washington for the barbarous purpose
of destroying the city. Admiral Cockburn would have burnt the whole,
but Ross would only consent to the burning of the public buildings.
I had no objection to burn arsenals, dockyards, frigates building,
stores, barracks, etc., but well do I recollect that, fresh from the
Duke’s humane warfare in the South of France, we were horrified at the
order to burn the elegant Houses of Parliament and the President’s
house. In the latter, however, we found a supper all ready, which was
sufficiently cooked without more fire, and which many of us speedily
consumed, unaided by the fiery elements, and drank some very good wine
also.[52] I shall never forget the destructive majesty of the flames
as the torches were applied to beds, curtains, etc. Our sailors were
artists at the work. Thus was fought the Battle of Bladensburg, which
wrested from the Americans their capital Washington, and burnt its
Capitol and other buildings with the ruthless firebrand of the Red
Savages of the woods. Neither our Admirals nor the Government at home
were satisfied that we had not allowed the work of destruction to
progress, as it was considered the total annihilation of Washington
would have removed the seat of government to New York, and the Northern
and Federal States were adverse to the war with England.

We remained two days, or rather nights, at Washington, and retired
on the third night in a most injudicious manner. I had been out in
the camp, and when I returned after dark, General Ross says, “I have
ordered the army to march at night.” “To-night?” I said. “I hope
not, sir. The road you well know, for four miles to Bladensburg, is
excellent, and wide enough to march with a front of subdivisions. After
that we have to move through woods by a track, not a road. Let us move
so as to reach Bladensburg by daylight. Our men will have a nights
rest, and be refreshed after the battle. I have also to load all the
wounded, and to issue flour, which I have also caused to be collected.”
(I had seized in Washington everything in the shape of transport, and
Baxter, the Staff Surgeon, brought away every wounded man who could
travel.) General Ross said, “I have made the arrangement with Evans,
and we must march.” I muttered to myself, “Oh, for dear John Colborne!”

We started at nine, and marched rapidly and in good order to
Bladensburg, where we halted for about an hour to load the wounded.
The barrels of flour were arranged in the streets, the heads knocked
in, and every soldier told to take some. Soldiers are greedy fellows,
and many filled their haversacks. During a tedious night’s march
through woods as dark as chaos, they found the flour far from agreeable
to carry and threw it away by degrees. If it had not been for the flour
thus marking the track, the whole column would have lost its road. Such
a scene of intolerable and unnecessary confusion I never witnessed. At
daylight we were still not three miles from Bladensburg. Our soldiers
were dead done, and so fatigued, there was nothing for it but to halt
and bring into play the flour, which was soon set about, while we Staff
were looking out like a Lieutenant of the Navy in chase, to see the
Yankees come down upon us with showers of sharpshooters. Thanks to
their kind consideration they abstained from doing so, but we were very
much in their power.

I now began to see how it was that our Light Division gentlemen
received so much credit in the army of the dear Duke. I recommend
every officer in command to avoid a night march as he would the devil,
unless on a good road, and even thus every precaution must be taken
by all staff officers to keep up the communications, or regularity
cannot be ensured. I have seen many night marches, but I never yet saw
time gained, or anything, beyond the evil of fatiguing your men and
defeating your own object. You may move before daylight, _i.e._ an
hour or two, if the nights are light. By this means, about the time
the column requires collection, daylight enables you to do it. You have
got a start of your enemy, your men are in full vigour either to march
rapidly or, in case of difficulty, to fight. But avoid night marches.
However, owing to their want of knowledge of the art of war, the enemy
on this occasion allowed us to get to our boats perfectly unmolested.

On one of the days we were near Washington a storm came on, a regular
hurricane. It did not last more than twenty minutes, but it was
accompanied by a deluge of rain and such a gale that it blew down all
our piles of arms and blew the drums out of camp. I never witnessed
such a scene as I saw for a few minutes. It resembled the storm in
Belshazzar’s feast,[53] and we learnt that even in the river, sheltered
by the woods, several of our ships at anchor had been cast on their
beam ends.

We gave out we were going to Annapolis, and thence to Baltimore to
re-act the conflagration of Washington, and the bait took. Some
American gentlemen came in under a flag of truce, evidently to have
a look at us, but avowedly to ask how private property had been
respected. Their observations were frustrated by our vigilance. I was
sent out to receive them, and nothing could exceed their gentlemanlike
deportment. I loaded them with questions about roads, resources,
force, etc., etc., at Annapolis and Baltimore. It was evident they
took the bait, for that night we heard their army was off in full
force to Annapolis, leaving us quietly to get down to our ships. We
made arrangements for the care and provisioning of the wounded we had
left at Bladensburg, and the attention and care they received from the
Americans became the character of a civilized nation.

We reached our landing-place unmolested, and at our leisure embarked
our army, which began to suffer very much from dysentery. A long
sea voyage is the worst possible preparation for long and fatiguing
marches. The men are fat, in no exercise, have lost the habit of
wearing their accoutrements, packs, etc.—in short, they are not the
same army they were on embarcation. Before our men left the Gironde,
thirty miles a day would have been nothing to them.

General Ross, just before we went on board, sent for me (there never
was a more kind or gallant soldier), and said, “Smith, the sooner I
get my dispatch home the better. As you know, it is nearly ready, and
as poor Falls, my A.D.C., is too unwell, it is my intention you should
be the bearer of my dispatches, and that Falls should go home for the
benefit of his health.” This most unexpected arrangement set me on the
_qui vive_ indeed. I had not been in England for seven years. Wife,
home, country, all rushed in my mind at once. The General said, “A
frigate is already ordered by the Admiral.”

This day my information man, Calder the Leper, came to me, and told me
that Brown had been taken and would be hung. I was much distressed.
Although one cannot admire a traitor to his country, yet I was some
degree of gratitude in his debt, and I said, “Well, Calder, but can
we do nothing to save him?” “Well, now I calculate that’s not to be
denied, and if I hear General Ross say, ‘If I catch that rascal Brown,
I will hang him like carrion,’ he may be saved, for I would go at once
among our people (they will not injure me), and I will swear I heard
General Ross say so.” I immediately went to the General. On the first
view of the thing, his noble nature revolted at making an assertion
he never intended to abide by. At length, however, to save the poor
wretch’s life, he consented, and in course of a desultory conversation
with Calder, dovetailed the words required into it. I saw Calder catch
at it. When he left the General’s tent, he said to me, “Well, now, I
calculate Brown may yet live many years.” He left us that night with
a purse of money and a long string of medical instructions for the
benefit of his health from one of our surgeons. “Ah,” says he, “this
will save _me_” (meaning the medical advice); “I can save Brown.” I
had an hieroglyphical note from him brought by a slave, just before I
sailed [30? Aug. 1814], to say “All’s right, you may reckon.” I told
this story afterwards to the Prince Regent. He was exceedingly amused.

The _Iphigenia_ frigate, Captain King, was to take me home, and
Captain Wainwright of the _Tonnant_ was to be the bearer of the naval
dispatches. Sir Alexander Cochrane, Admiral Cockburn, and Evans,
burning with ambition, had urged General Ross to move on Baltimore. The
General was against it, and kindly asked my opinion. I opposed it, not
by opinions or argument, but by a simple statement of facts.

“1. We have, by a ruse, induced the enemy to concentrate all his means
at Baltimore.

“2. A _coup de main_ like the conflagration of Washington may be
effected once during a war, but can rarely be repeated.

“3. The approach to Baltimore Harbour will be effectually obstructed.”
“Oh,” says the General, “so the Admirals say; but they say that in one
hour they would open the passage.” I laughed. “It is easier said than
done, you will see, General.” (The passage defied their exertions when
tested.)

“4. Your whole army is a handful of men, and the half of them are sick
from dysentery.

“5. Your success in the attack on Washington is extraordinary, and
will have a general effect. Your success on Baltimore would add little
to that effect, admitting you were successful, which I again repeat I
doubt, while a reverse before Baltimore would restore the Americans’
confidence in their own power, and wipe away the stain of their
previous discomfiture.”

General Ross says, “I agree with you. Such is my decided opinion.”
“Then, sir, may I tell Lord Bathurst you will not go to Baltimore?” He
said, “Yes.” I was delighted, for I had a presentiment of disaster,
founded on what I have stated.

The day we were to sail in the _Iphigenia_, as I left the _Tonnant_,
kind-hearted General Ross, whom I loved as a brother, accompanied me to
the gangway. His most sensible and amiable wife was at Bath. I promised
to go there the moment I had delivered my dispatches, and of course I
was charged with a variety of messages. In the warmth of a generous
heart he shook my hand, and said, “A pleasant voyage, dear Smith,
and thank you heartily for all your exertions and the assistance you
have afforded me. I can ill spare you.” My answer was, “Dear friend,
I will soon be back to you, and may I assure Lord Bathurst you will
not attempt Baltimore?” “_You may._” These were the last words I ever
heard that gallant soul utter. He was over-ruled: attempted Baltimore
[12 Sept. 1814], failed, and lost his noble life. A more gallant and
amiable man never existed, and one who, in the continuance of command,
would have become a General of great ability. But few men, who from a
Regiment to a Brigade are suddenly pushed into supreme authority and
have a variety of conflicting considerations to cope with—Navy, Army,
country, resources, etc., are at the outset perfectly at home.

The _Iphigenia_ had a most extraordinary passage from the Chesapeake to
our anchorage at Spithead. We were only twenty-one days. The kindness
I received from Captain King I shall never forget. The rapidity of our
voyage was consonant to my feelings and in perfect accordance with my
character.

CHAPTER XXI.

HARRY SMITH ONCE MORE IN ENGLAND—REUNION WITH HIS WIFE IN
LONDON—INTERVIEW WITH THE PRINCE REGENT—DINNER AT LORD
BATHURST’S—A JOURNEY TO BATH—HARRY SMITH INTRODUCES HIS WIFE
TO HIS FATHER—VISIT TO WHITTLESEY—HE RECEIVES ORDERS TO
RETURN TO AMERICA UNDER SIR EDWARD PAKENHAM.

Wainwright and I started from the George Inn, Portsmouth, which I
well knew, with four horses at five o’clock. I do not know what he
considered himself, but I was of opinion that, as the bearer of
dispatches to Government, I was one of the greatest men in England.
Just before we started, our outfit merchant and general agent, tailor,
etc., by name Meyers, who had been very civil to me going out to South
America, begged to speak to me. He said, “I find the _Iphigenia_ is
from America, from the Chesapeake: that little box under your arm
contains, I see, dispatches.” “Well,” I said, “what of that?” “If you
will tell me their general purport, whether _good news_ or _bad_, I
will make it worth your while, and you may secure some pounds for a
refit.” At first I felt inclined to knock him down. On a moment’s
reflexion I thought, “every one to his trade,” so I compromised my
feelings of indignation in rather a high tone of voice, and with “I’d
see you d—— first; but of what use would such general information be
to you?” He, a knowing fellow, began to think _the pounds_ were in my
thoughts, so he readily said, “I could get a man on horseback in London
two hours before you, and good news or bad on ‘Change’ is my object.
Now do you understand?” I said, “Perfectly, and when I return to
America I shall expect a capital outfit from you for all the valuable
information I have afforded you. Good-bye, Meyers.”

Oh! the delight of that journey. I made the boys drive a furiously
good pace. D—— me, if I had rather be beating off a leeshore in a
gale, tide against me! The very hedgerows, the houses, the farms, the
cattle, the healthy population all neatly clothed, all in occupation;
no naked slaves, no burned villages, no starving, wretched inhabitants,
no trace of damnable and accursed war! For seven years, an immense
period in early life, I had viewed nothing beyond the seat of a war, a
_glorious_ war, I admit, but in that glory, death in its most various
shapes, misery of nations, hardships, privations, wounds, and sickness,
and their concomitants. The wild excitement bears a soldier happily
through. My career had been a most fortunate one. Still the contrast
around me was as striking as the first appearance of a white and
clothed man to a naked savage. The happy feeling of being in my native
land once more, in health and in possession of every limb, excited a
maddening sensation of doubt, anxiety, hope, and dread, all summed up
in this—“Does your young wife live? Is she well?” Oh! the pain, the
hope, the fear, and the faith in Almighty God, who had so wonderfully
protected me, must have turned the brain if endurance had continued,
for I had never heard of her since we parted.

At twelve o’clock we were in London, and drove to Downing Street, where
I lodged my dispatches; then we sought out a bivouac, I and poor Falls.
The navy man was off to the Admiralty. Every inn was full near Downing
Street, at least where I desired to be. At last we got to the Salopian
Coffee-house in Parliament Street. The waiter said, “One spare bedroom,
sir; nothing more.” “Oh, plenty!” we said. We had been feasting on the
road on that indigenous-to-England luxury of bread, butter, cream,
and tea. All we wanted was an hour or two’s sleep, for, at that time
of night, as to finding any one, we might as well have been back in
America! The chambermaid said, “Only one room, sir.” “Plenty,” we
said. “But only one bed, gentlemen!” “Plenty,” we said. “Bring up the
portmanteau, West.” When we got to the room and proceeded (West and I)
to divide this copious bed into two by hauling half the clothes on the
floor, according to our custom of seven years, the astonishment of the
poor chambermaid is not to be described. We bundled her out and were
asleep before a minute.

By daylight I was in a hackney coach, and drove to the British (the
Scotch) barracks of my old Rifle comrades. There I asked the porter the
name of any officer he knew. At last he stammered out some. “Colonel
Ross? What regiment?” says I. “He had a green jacket when he came up.”
I knew it was my dear friend John Ross. “Where is the room?” I said.
“Oh, don’t disturb the gentleman, sir; he is only just gone to bed.”
Says I, “My friend, I have often turned him out, and he shall quickly
be broad awake now.” He showed the room. In I bolted. “Halloa, Ross,
stand to your arms.” “Who the devil are you?” “Harry Smith,” I said;
“fall in.” Our joy was mutual. “Well, but quiet, John; is my wife alive
and well?” “All right, thank God, Harry, in every respect as you would
wish. I was with her yesterday.” “Where, John? where?” “In Panton
Square, No. 11.” It is difficult to decide whether excess of joy or of
grief is the most difficult to bear; but seven years’ fields of blood
had not seared my heart or blunted my naturally very acute feelings,
and I burst into a flood of tears. “Oh, thank Almighty God.” Soon I was
in Panton Square, with my hand on the window of the coach, looking for
the number, when I heard a shriek, “Oh Dios, la mano de mi Enrique!”
Never shall I forget that shriek; never shall I forget the effusion of
our gratitude to God, as we held each other in an embrace of love few
can ever have known, cemented by every peculiarity of our union and the
eventful scenes of our lives. Oh! you who enter into holy wedlock for
the sake of connexions—tame, cool, amiable, good, I admit—you cannot
feel what we did. That moment of our lives was worth the whole of your
apathetic ones for years. We were unbounded in love for each other, and
in gratitude to God for all His mercies. Poor little Pug was, in her
way, as delighted to see me as her more happy mistress, and many an
anecdote was told me of her assisting by moaning pitifully when my wife
grieved aloud, as she was sometimes induced to do.

This happy reunion effected, I was off to Downing Street, where my Lord
Bathurst received me in the kindest manner, and said, “The intelligence
you bring is of such importance, the Prince Regent desires to see you.
We will go immediately.” I said, “My Lord, be so good as to allow me
to take the map I brought you.” “It is here.” And off we started to
Carlton House. We were shown into a large room where Lord Bathurst
fortunately left me for half an hour, which enabled me somewhat to
allay my excited imagination and return to the battlefields. I was
soon deep in thought, when a sort of modesty came over me at the idea
of approaching England’s (_actual_) king. I gave my head a toss,
saying, “I never quailed before the dear Duke of Wellington, with his
piercing eye, nor will I now, and General Ross begged of me to talk;”
for His Royal Highness, the story went, complained that “the bearer
of dispatches will never talk.” Johnny Kincaid says I was an “impudent
fellow.” At any rate, I determined, if I saw His Royal Highness really
desired me to be communicative, I would not be unready. While I was
forming all sorts of plans for both attack and defence, in came Lord
Bathurst: “The Prince will see you.” So I said, “My Lord, if we were
in camp, I could take your Lordship all about, but I know nothing of
the etiquette of a court.” So he says, “Oh, just behave as you would
to any gentleman; His Highness’s manner will soon put you at ease.
Call him ‘Sir,’ and do not turn your back on him.” “No,” says I, “my
Lord, I know that; and my profession is one of ‘show a good front.’” In
we went to the Prince’s dressing-room, full of every sort of article
of dress, perfumes, snuff-boxes, wigs, every variety of article, I
do believe, that London could produce. His Highness rose in the most
gracious manner, and welcomed me to his presence by saying, “General
Ross strongly recommended you to my notice[54] as an officer who can
afford me every information of the service you come to report, the
importance of which is marked by the firing of the Parliament and Tower
guns you now hear.” I could not refrain from smiling within myself
at Harry Smith of the Light Division sitting with the Prince Regent,
and all London in an uproar at the news he brought. I was perfectly
thunderstruck at the military questions the Prince asked me. He opened
a map of America, and then referred to the plan of Washington I had
brought home, with the public buildings burnt marked in red. He asked
the name of each, and in his heart I fancied I saw he thought it a
barbarian act. On all other topics he spoke out. I said it was to be
regretted a sufficient force had not been sent to hold Washington. His
Highness said, “What do you call a sufficient force?” I said, “14,000
men.” He very shrewdly asked on what I based such an opinion. I talked
of Navy, of population, etc., and perfectly satisfied His Highness I
did not give an opinion at random. He asked a variety of questions, and
laughed exceedingly when I told him the anecdote of Calder’s promising
to save Brown. When I got up to leave the room, and was backing out,
His Highness rather followed me, and asked if I were any relation of
his friend, Sir —— Smith, in Shropshire. I said, “No.” He then said, “I
and the country are obliged to you all. Ross’s recommendations will not
be forgotten, and, Bathurst, don’t forget this officer’s promotion.”
It was the most gentlemanlike and affable interview I could possibly
imagine.

That evening I was to dine at Lord Bathurst’s at Putney. I never met
a more amiable-mannered man than Lord Bathurst; and his secretary,
Punch Greville,[55] volunteered to drive me out in his tilbury. When
I got into the drawing-room, who should be there but my dear friend
Lord Fitzroy Somerset? He had been recently married. At dinner I sat
between Lady Fitzroy and an elderly gentleman whose name I did not
know, and, as the party was small, and I the lion, every one induced me
to talk. Lord Fitzroy and I across the table got back into Spain; and,
of course, as I regarded the Duke of Wellington as something elevated
beyond any human being, and I was in high spirits, I did not hesitate
to launch forth our opinion of him. The elderly gentleman who sat next
me said, “I am very glad to hear you speak in such raptures of the
Duke. He is my brother.” I laughed, and said, “I have not exceeded
in anything, to the best of my judgment.” After dinner Lord Fitzroy
Somerset and I had a long talk. He had travelled after Toulouse, in
a little carriage from Bordeaux to Cadiz with the Duke, and their
conversation frequently turned on the Army. Fresh are the words on
my mind at this moment. “The Duke often said to me, ‘The Light, 3rd
and 4th Divisions were the _élite_ of my army, but the Light had this
peculiar perfection. No matter what was the arduous service they were
employed on, when I rode up next day, I still found a _Division_. They
never lost one half the men other Divisions did.’” I was delighted,
for this was what we so prided ourselves on. I have often heard our
soldiers bullying one another about the number such a Company had lost,
always attaching discredit to the loss. It was a peculiar feeling, and
one which actuated them throughout the war, combined with the most
undaunted bravery and stratagem as sharpshooters.

But I must revert to domestic matters. My wife had refused all the
entreaties of my family to leave London before my return. She availed
herself of masters, and saw so many friends daily. She had a forcible
impression that I should not be long away. We started for Bath, and
I wrote to my father to come to London in a few days, and we would
return with him to Whittlesea. We found poor Mrs. Ross in the highest
spirits at the achievement of our arms under her husband. Poor thing!
at that very moment of her excessive happiness he was in a soldier’s
bloody grave. The delight of our journey to and from Bath is not to be
described. Everything was modern, novel, and amusing to my wife: every
trifle called forth a comparison with Spain, although she admitted that
there was no comparison between our inns and the Spanish _posadas_, so
accurately described in _Gil Blas_. No brutal railroads in those days,
where all are flying prisoners. We dined where we liked; we did as we
liked. At the last stage back into London, my wife, in looking at a
newspaper (for she began to read English far better than she spoke),
saw my promotion to the rank of Major—“The reward,” she said, “of our
separation.”

[Illustration: JUANA SMITH.

_From a picture painted in Paris in 1815._

[_Opposite p. 218._]

On arrival in London we found my father had arrived from the country.
I had not seen him for seven years. In this period _he_ had been
deprived of his devoted wife, leaving him eleven children, _I_, of a
mother; for everything that word comprises in its most comprehensive
sense I had lost. Our pleasure at meeting, as may be supposed, was
excessive, while we mingled our tears for the departed. As my wife had
just come off a journey, and it was late in the afternoon, I would
not show her to my father until she was dressed for dinner: a little
bit of vanity and deception on my part, for I led him to believe she
was of the stiff Spanish school, as stately as a swan and about as
proud as a peacock. She liked the fun of the deception, and promised
to dress in full Spanish costume, and act up to the supposition. In
she came, looking—oh! if I could but describe her! but in place of
acting either the swan or the peacock, she bounded into my fathers
arms, who cried like a child, between joy, admiration, astonishment
and delight at seeing so young and beautiful a creature who had gone
through so much, and showed a heart evidently framed for love. She was
now nearly eighteen, but a woman—not a girl, and certainly a person
of most distinguished appearance, especially in her Spanish costume;
not handsome, if beauty depends on regularity of features, for she
had the dark complexion of the fairer part of her countrywomen, but
with a colour beneath the clearest skin of olive which gave a lustre
to her countenance—a countenance illumined by a pair of dark eyes
possessing all the fire of a vivid imagination, and an expression
which required not the use of speech. Her figure was beautiful, and
never was any costume so calculated to exhibit it in perfection and
in all its graces as that of her native land. She had a profusion
of the darkest brown hair; teeth, though not regular, as white as
pearls; with a voice most silvery and sweet in conversation, and she
would sing the melancholy airs and songs of constancy of her country
(so celebrated for them) with a power and depth of voice and feeling
peculiar to Spain. Her foot and ankle were truly Spanish. She danced
beautifully. Thus it was that the natural grace of her figure and
carriage was developed, while the incomparable elegance and simplicity
of her manner was a thing not to be forgotten, rarely to be met with.
Her pronunciation of English at this period was most fascinating,
and when she wanted a word, the brilliancy and expression of the eye
would supply it. It flashed perpetually as she spoke, and filled up
the intervals her slight knowledge of our language could not supply.
She was animated and intelligent, with a touching tone of confidence
and gentleness which made the hearer a willing listener to her words,
but still her meaning was supplied by her vivid countenance. Such
was the being my affectionate and kind-hearted father held locked in
his paternal embrace, the faithful wife of his son. They were ever
afterwards friends in every sense of the word, and, as he was the
best and boldest horseman I ever saw in my life, and she could ride
beautifully and any horse, they were inseparable. Poor “Old Chap,”
my war horse, which, together with her Andalusian “Tiny,” I had sent
to him, was dead, but, the morning after our arrival at Whittlesea,
we were taken to the stall. There was Tiny in _such_ condition! The
meeting between my wife and the horse was, as she said, that of
compatriots in a foreign land. It was rendered still more amusing by
the little pug and horse equally recognizing each other, for many a
day had Tiny carried Pug. (My dear little thorough-bred horse I had so
cried over[56] was still alive and fresh, but alas! I had grown out of
his memory. He was standing in the next stall, and had acquired the
name of “Old Jack.”) My wife let Tiny loose, to the alarm of my father,
who expected to see him fly off full speed into his garden, which he
prided himself on considerably. To his astonishment, and to mine too
(for my father told me the groom could barely lead him), she says, “Now
don’t make a noise, and he will follow me like a dog,” which he did
into the drawing-room, occasionally licking her hand or face when she
allowed him. The saddle, however, was soon on him, and, as if proud to
show off that he was broken in like a Mameluke’s, she figured him so
that few Mamelukes, jerreed[57] in hand, could have touched her with
effect.

In the midst of [happiness] I had the most melancholy visit to pay
to my mothers tomb. If ever souls on earth could commune, I was so
fascinated by the hallowed spot, which contained all which I so adored
from my infancy, my consoler, my counsellor, my guide to the holy hill
of God, I really believed I heard her speak when I prayed over her head
and again vowed my promises at parting. Oh! that she could have lived
to know my elevation, my being the bearer of dispatches to our King,
that she could have seen my wife, that she could have shared, Heaven
bless her, in the happiness of her children around! This one blank
was for the moment all I lacked. I consoled myself that while we were
revelling on earth with every uncertainty before us, she, my mother,
was in heaven, where I dare firmly believe she is, for God is gracious
and bountiful.

On my return from that hallowed and sacred spot, I found letters from
the Horse Guards. The first was to order me to London immediately, the
next was to tell me what I little anticipated. General Ross, contrary
to his own opinion and his promise, had attempted Baltimore [12 Sept.],
failed, as I anticipated, and lost his gallant life from not following
the dictates of his own good sense and ability. My dear friend Sir
Edward Pakenham was appointed to succeed him. I was appointed A.A.G.
to the increased force going out! I had been nearly three weeks under
the paternal and hospitable roof—my only holiday for years—when that
blighting word “separation” was again to be imparted to my faithful
and adoring wife; and, cut off from all social ties of happiness and
endearment, I was again immediately, in the very middle of winter,
to encounter the stormy Atlantic and all the horrors of war in the
distance. It is only a repetition of the former tale to talk of my
poor wife’s distress. It was agreed she was to accompany me to London,
and my father was to bring her back; and twenty-four hours later,
while brothers and sisters re-echoed each others’ promises, and indeed
feelings, of affection, we started back to London, with hearts as heavy
as they were light coming down. I little thought then of what I had to
go through, witness, and endure, but, if I had, my task would still
have been to affect a cheerfulness in the prospect of more promotion
which, I avow candidly, I did not feel. However, I was a soldier, and
as much wedded to my profession and a sense of duty as any man, so I
lit up my torch of hope and did all in my power to cheer and comfort
her I so loved.

On our arrival in London I immediately went to poor dear Sir Edward
Pakenham, who was delighted to see me, and said that we must be in
Portsmouth in a few days, and that the _Statira_ frigate was waiting
for us. I then sought out Macdougall of the 85th, who before I left the
Army had been acting, in place of sick Falls, as A.D.C. to poor Ross,
and I readily learned all that occurred before the service lost that
gallant soldier. My firm and faithful friend John Robb, surgeon of the
95th when I joined, was appointed Inspector-General of Hospitals, and
he and I agreed to send our baggage by coach, and go down together to
Portsmouth in a post chaise on Sunday afternoon, for the _Statira_ was
to sail on Monday. Old West was started off per coach, and at three
o’clock on Sunday, the — November, the horrible scene of parting was
again to be endured. It was less painful to me than the first, I admit,
for my dear wife was now known and beloved by all my family; but to her
the dread of separation, and separation for the exploits of war, was
as painful as before, and, when I tore myself from her, which I was
literally obliged to do, that heart must be hard indeed that was not,
as mine was, ready to break. I can see her now, with her head resting
on the chimney-piece (as I left the room, and took a farewell glance)
in a state bordering on despair. My father, too, was awfully overcome.

In a few minutes I was rolling on my road to Portsmouth, deeply
absorbed, I admit, but my companion Robb was a man of strong mind, of
whom I had a high opinion, and not to appear desponding before him, I
exerted all my energy and began to talk of my plans on my return. Robb
said—the only thing I ever heard him say that I thought would have been
as well unsaid—“Oh, that’s capital! a fellow going out to be killed
by an American Rifleman, talking of what he will do when he comes
back!” Now, such is the perversity of human nature, this so put up my
blood, that grief and anguish were mitigated in a determined spirit of
opposition.

We arrived at the George at twelve at night, and found West, who
reported all right. We found an order directing us to be on board by
ten o’clock, as the ship would get under weigh at twelve, and we knew
that our men of war are punctual fellows.

The next morning, at breakfast, we directed old West to parade our
portmanteaus. My kit had increased just double, viz. I had now _two_
portmanteaus. “Here they are, sir,” says West. “Why, that is not mine,
West!” He overhauled it, and soon agreed with me. We went to the coach;
there was no other. So I opened it, and, to my horror, in place of
my things, it contained the dirty linen of a Frenchman and his silk
stockings and evening pantaloons, etc., etc. Upon a little inquiry
from poor old West, we learned that two coaches were loading at the
same time, one for Dover, the other for Portsmouth. It was evident,
therefore, my red coats were in company with my French friend. In my
portmanteau were all my boots, my uniform, and my flannel waistcoats.
We were to embark immediately, and I had nothing for it but to go to my
_friend_,[58] and tell him, “Now’s the time for the outfit: I have lost
my portmanteau.” He very kindly undertook to write to Charing Cross and
send back the Frenchman’s, and in three weeks after the failure at New
Orleans my portmanteau was sent out to me by my dear friend John Bell.
It is a very odd coincidence that, on my first going abroad to South
America, I lost my kit and all my large stock of silver given me by my
poor mother—some teaspoons, etc. On that occasion I never recovered
anything.

CHAPTER XXII.

SAILS WITH SIR EDWARD PAKENHAM ON THE EXPEDITION AGAINST
NEW ORLEANS—REVERSE OF 8 JANUARY, 1815, AND DEATH OF
PAKENHAM—SIR JOHN LAMBERT SUCCEEDS TO THE COMMAND, APPOINTS
HARRY SMITH HIS MILITARY SECRETARY, AND WITHDRAWS THE FORCE.

We soon reached our frigate, and oh, so crowded as she was!—Sir
Edward Pakenham and all his Staff, the Commanders of the Engineers
and Artillerymen with their Staff, and about thirty passengers! The
most of us slept in cots in the steerage. Young D’Este, the real Duke
of Sussex,[59] was a fund of great amusement, the most gentlemanlike,
kind-hearted young fellow possible, affable to a degree, and most
unpretending; but he had a thirst for obtaining information, I never
beheld before. Consequently he laid himself open to some very peculiar
replies to his queries. He proved himself on shore, like all the royal
family, a gallant and intrepid soldier, and the best shot with a
rifle for a youth that I have almost ever seen. He attached himself
passionately to me on board and on shore, and if he ever became Elector
of Hanover, I was to have been his Secretary.

We had a very agreeable party of gallant old Peninsular soldiers,
and dear Sir Edward was one of the most amusing persons imaginable—a
high-minded and chivalrous fellow in every idea, and, to our
astonishment, very devoutly inclined; and Major Gibbs, who was
afterwards killed on the same day as Sir Edward, was a noble fellow.

The _Statira_ was a noble frigate; she had a full complement of
men, and was in crack order, having every individual on board but
the individual who had put her in—that Irish Captain Stackpoole, of
duelling celebrity, who had very shortly before been shot in the West
Indies by a Lieutenant of another ship on whom he saddled a quarrel
originating in an occurrence when both were middies. The Lieutenant
denied all recollection of it to no purpose. Stackpoole insisted on his
going out. The Lieutenant, it was said, had never fired a pistol in his
life, but at the first shot Stackpoole fell dead. I never saw a body of
officers and men more attached than these were to their last Captain.
Every one had some anecdote of his kindness and ability as a seaman.
The propensity which cost him his life can be attributed, I am firmly
of opinion, to nothing but a strain of insanity upon that particular
subject alone. His prowess as a shot with a pistol, it was asserted,
was inconceivable, but “the battle is not always to the strong.”

On this voyage I had two opportunities of writing to my wife, or,
rather, sending her the sheets of a sort of journal which she made
me promise to keep. Our Captain, Swaine, a neighbour of mine in
Cambridgeshire, was of the old school, and made everything snug at
night by shortening sail, to the great amusement of poor Stackpoole’s
crew, accustomed to carry on night and day. But for this, we should
have been off the mouth of the Mississippi at the time when Sir Edward
was informed a fleet and his army would rendezvous for an assault on
New Orleans. As it was, we did [not] reach the fleet until [25 Dec.]
three days after the landing had been effected, and our army under
Major-General Sir J. Keane, now Lord Keane (as noble a soldier as our
country ever produced) had sustained a sharp night-attack. Stovin, the
A.G., had been shot through the neck, and I was at the head of the
department.

I never served under a man whose good opinion I was so desirous
of having as Sir Edward Pakenham, and proud was I to find I daily
succeeded. I was always with him, and usually lay in my cloak in his
room. The second day after we reached General Keane [28 Dec.], the
army was moved up to reconnoitre the enemy’s position, or to attack,
if we saw it practicable. I was that day delighted with Sir Edward:
he evinced an animation, a knowledge of ground, of his own resources
and the strength of the enemy’s position, which reminded us of his
brother-in-law, _our Duke_. The Staff were very near the enemy’s line,
when I saw some riflemen evidently creeping down and not farther off
than a hundred yards, and so I very abruptly said, “Ride away, Sir
Edward, behind this bank, or you will be shot in a second. By your
action you will be recognized as the Commander-in-Chief, and some
riflemen are now going to fire.” The American riflemen are very slow,
though the most excellent shots. My manner was so impressive he came
away. As we were returning that evening he called me to him, and said,
“You gentlemen of the Craufurd school” (he was very fond of our old
Light Division) “are very abrupt and peremptory in your manner to your
Generals. Would you have spoken to Craufurd as you did to me to-day?” I
said, “Most certainly, for if I had not, and one of us had been killed
or wounded, and he became aware I observed what I did when I spoke to
you, he would have blown me up as I deserved. He taught us to do so.”
How my dear friend Sir Edward laughed!

We soon found that, with our present force, the enemy’s position was
impregnable. A Brigade was, however, daily expected, under Sir J.
Lambert. While we were looking out with our telescopes, Sir Edward
turned very abruptly to me, and said, “Now for a Light Division
[opinion]. What do you say, Smith, as to the practicability of an
attack on the enemy’s line?” I replied, “His position is strong—his
left being on an impracticable morass, his right on the Mississippi;
the ground is a dead flat, intersected with ditches which will impede
our troops. The enemy has, literally, a breastwork, and plenty of men
upon it, and their fire will sweep the plain with unerring precision,
causing us great loss; for we can produce no fire, flank or otherwise,
to render them uneasy or unsteady. As yet, the enemy has not occupied
the opposite bank of the river. He has two armed vessels in the river.
We must destroy these as soon as possible, possess the right bank of
the Mississippi, enfilade the enemy’s position with our fire (the
width of the river being only from seven to eight hundred yards),
and, so soon as we open a fire from the right bank, we should storm
the work in two, three, or more columns.” “You Rifle gentlemen have
learnt something, I do believe.” I did not know at the time whether
he said this in jest or not, for he was a most light-hearted fellow;
but, when we got back to the house we put up in, he sent for me. He had
a plan of the works and position of the enemy before him, and said,
“Smith, I entirely [concur] in all you said in the field to-day. In
the meanwhile, we must facilitate our communications by roads in our
rear, etc. I will erect batteries and destroy the ships, and, when
the batteries are complete, they shall open on the enemy. If they can
destroy the enemy’s defence in any part, or silence the fire of his
batteries, the army shall storm at once. Lambert’s arrival is very
uncertain.” I remarked, if Lambert’s arrival was so uncertain, we had
no alternative, and under any circumstances the ships must be destroyed
and batteries erected, whether Lambert’s force arrived or not.

We succeeded in destroying one ship—we _might have_ destroyed both. We
erected several batteries, their defences principally sugar-casks,—for
here on the plain, on the banks of the Mississippi, if you dug eight
inches, water followed: hence to erect batteries with earth was
impracticable, and we had not sufficient sand-bags. The defences of
our batteries, therefore, were reported complete on the night of the
31st December. The army was formed into two columns of attack—one
threatening the right flank, the other the left, and a party was hid
in the reeds in the morass on the enemy’s left flank with orders to
penetrate, if possible, and disturb the enemy’s left.

At daybreak on the 1st of January, 1815, our troops were formed, and
our batteries opened. They had not the slightest effect on the enemy.
On the contrary, his shot went through the imperfect defence, caused
our noble artillerymen great loss, and silenced our batteries. Hence
there was no attack, and Sir Edward still more strenuously adhered to
the necessity of occupying the right bank of the river. The troops were
withdrawn, except such strong picquets as were left to protect the guns
in the [batteries].

Poor Sir Edward was much mortified at being obliged to retire the army
from a second demonstration and disposition to attack, but there was
nothing for it. It came on to rain in the evening, and was both wet
and cold. Sir Edward slept in a little house in advance of his usual
quarters. He told me to stay with him, and all his Staff to return to
the usual house. He said, “Smith, those guns must be brought back; go
and do it.” I said, “It will require a great many men.” “Well,” he
says, “take 600 from Gibbs’s Brigade.” Off I started. The soldiers
were sulky, and neither the 21st nor the 44th were distinguished for
discipline—certainly not of the sort I had been accustomed to. After
every exertion I could induce them to make, I saw I had no chance of
success—to my mortification, for to return and say to Sir Edward I
could not effect it, was as bad as the loss of a leg. However, the
night was wearing, and my alternative decided; so I told him as quietly
as I could. He saw I was mortified, and said nothing, but jumped up
in his cloak, and says, “Be so good as to order my horse, and go on
and turn out Gibbs’s whole Brigade quietly.” They were under arms
by the time he arrived, and by dint of exertion and his saying, “I
am Sir Edward Pakenham, etc., and Commander-in-Chief,” as well as
using every expression to induce officers and soldiers to exertion,
just as daylight appeared he had completed the task, and the Brigade
returned to its ground. As we were riding back Sir Edward said, “You
see, Smith, exertion and determination will effect anything.” I was
cruelly mortified, and said, “Your excitement, your name, your energy,
as Commander-in-Chief with a whole Brigade, most certainly has done
that which I failed in with 600 men, but I assure you, Sir Edward,
I did all I could.” His noble heart at once observed my misery. He
said, “I admire your mortification; it shows your zeal. Why _I_ barely
effected, with all the exertion of the Commander-in-Chief, and, as you
say, a Brigade, what I expected you to do with one-fourth of the men!”
He might have added, “and I did with some of the guns what you dare
not even recommend to me.” Oh, how I was comforted! To fall in his
estimation would have been worse than death by far.

In a day or two we had information that Lambert’s Brigade, the 7th
Fusiliers and the 43rd Foot, [had arrived]. Two such Corps would turn
the tide of a general action. We were rejoiced! Sir Edward then made
preparations to cross the river, and so to widen a little stream as
to get the boats into the Mississippi. The story has been too often
told to repeat. Lambert’s Brigade landed, and, upon a representation
made to Sir Edward by Major Sir G. Tylden, who was an Assistant
Adjutant-General like myself, but a senior officer (as kind a fellow as
ever lived), that, in Stovin’s incapacity from his wound, he must be at
the head of the Adjutant-General’s Department, Sir Edward sent for me.
“Smith,” he said, “it was my intention you should have remained with
me, Tylden with Lambert; but he claims his right as senior officer. You
would not wish me to do an unjust thing when the claim is preferred?”
I said, with my heart in my mouth, “Certainly not, sir.” (I do believe
I was more attached to Sir Edward, as a soldier, than I was to John
Colborne, _if possible_.) “You must, therefore, go to Lambert. I will
[enter] this arrangement in Orders; but, rely on it, I shall find
enough for you and him to do too.”

The night of the 7th January, the rivulet (or bayou, as then called)
was reported dammed, and the boats above the dam ready for the banks of
the Mississippi to be cut. The water within the banks was higher than
the level of the water in the bayou, consequently so much water must
be let into the bayou as to provide for the level. In the meanwhile,
the enemy had not been asleep. They had been apprised of our operations
to establish ourselves on the right bank; they had landed the guns
from the second ship (which we ought to have destroyed), and were
respectably in possession of that which we must turn them out of. Sir
Edward Pakenham went to inspect the bayou, the boats, etc. I heard him
say to the engineer, “Are you satisfied the dam will bear the weight
of water which will be upon it when the banks of the river are cut?”
He said, “Perfectly.” “I should be far more so if a second dam was
constructed.” The engineer was positive. After dark the banks were
cut, the dam went as Sir Edward seemed to anticipate, and the delay in
repairing it prevented the boats being got into the river in time for
the troops under Colonel Thornton of the 85th to reach their ground
and make a simultaneous attack with the main body, according to the
plan arranged. Sir John Lambert’s Brigade, the _élite_ 7th Fusiliers
and 43rd, were in reserve. Sir Edward said, “Those fellows would storm
anything, but, indeed, so will the others, and when we are in New
Orleans, I can depend upon Lambert’s Reserve.” We were all formed in
three columns [8 Jan.], about 6000 British soldiers and some sailors: a
column under Colonel Renny of the 21st were destined to proceed on the
banks of the river and right of the enemy, and carry a powerful battery
which enfiladed the whole position: General Keane’s Brigade was to
assail the enemy’s right-central position: General Gibbs’s Brigade to
attack well upon the enemy’s left: General Lambert’s Brigade to be in
reserve nearer Gibbs’s Brigade than Keane’s.

About half an hour before daylight, while I was with General Lambert’s
column, standing ready, Sir Edward Pakenham sent for me. I was soon
with him. He was greatly agitated. “Smith, most Commanders-in-Chief
have many difficulties to contend with, but surely none like mine. The
dam, as you heard me say it would, gave way, and Thornton’s people will
be of no use whatever to the general attack.” I said, “So impressed
have you ever been, so obvious is it in every military point of view,
we should possess the right bank of the river, and thus enfilade and
divert the attention of the enemy; there is still time before daylight
to retire the columns now. We are under the enemy’s fire so soon as
discovered.” He says, “This may be, but I have twice deferred the
attack. We are strong in numbers now comparatively. It will cost more
men, and the assault must be made.” I again urged delay. While we were
talking, the streaks of daylight began to appear, although the morning
was dull, close, and heavy, the clouds almost touching the ground. He
said, “Smith, order the rocket to be fired.” I again ventured to plead
the cause of delay. He said, and very justly, “It is now too late: the
columns would be visible to the enemy before they could move out of
fire, and would lose more men than it is to be hoped they will in the
attack. Fire the rocket, I say, and go to Lambert.” This was done. I
had reached Lambert just as the stillness of death and anticipation
(for I really believe the enemy was aware of our proximity to their
position) [was broken by the firing of the rocket]. The rocket was
hardly in the air before a rush of our troops was met by the most
murderous and destructive fire of all arms ever poured upon column. Sir
Edward Pakenham galloped past me with all his Staff, saying, “That’s
a terrific fire, Lambert.” I knew nothing of my General then, except
that he was a most gentlemanlike, amiable fellow, and I had seen him
lead his Brigade at Toulouse in the order of a review of his Household
Troops in Hyde Park.[60] I said, “In twenty-five minutes, General,
you will command the Army. Sir Edward Pakenham will be wounded and
incapable, or killed. The troops do not get on a step. He will be at
the head of the first Brigade he comes to, and what I say will occur.”
A few seconds verified my words. Tylden came wildly up to tell the
melancholy truth, saying, “Sir Edward Pakenham is killed. You command
the Army, and your Brigade must move on immediately.” I said, “If Sir
Edward Pakenham is killed, Sir John Lambert commands, and will judge
of what is to be done.” I saw the attack had irretrievably failed. The
troops were beat back, and going at a tolerable pace too; so much so,
I thought the enemy had made a sortie in pursuit, as so overpowering
a superiority of numbers would have induced the French to do. “May
I order your Brigade, sir, to form line to cover a most irregular
retreat, to apply no other term to it, until you see what has actually
occurred to the attacking columns?” He assented, and sent me and other
Staff Officers in different directions to ascertain our condition.
It was (summed up in few words) that every attack had failed; the
Commander-in-Chief and General Gibbs and Colonel Renny killed; General
Keane, most severely wounded; and the columns literally destroyed. The
column for the right bank were seen to be still in their boats, and not
the slightest impression had been made on the enemy.

Never since Buenos Ayres had I witnessed a reverse, and the sight to
our eyes, which had looked on victory so often, was appalling indeed.
Lambert desired me, and every Staff Officer he could get hold of, to go
and reform the troops, no very easy matter in some cases. However, far
to the rear, they (or, rather, what were left) were formed up, Sir John
meanwhile wondering whether, under all the circumstances, he ought to
attack. He very judiciously saw that was impossible, and he withdrew
the troops from under a most murderous fire of round shot. Soon after
this we heard the attack on the right bank, which succeeded easily
enough. The extent of our loss was ascertained: one-third.

The Admirals came to the outlying picquet-house with faces as long
as a flying jib: a sort of Council of War was held. I had been among
the troops to find out how the pluck of our soldiers [stood]. Those
who had received such an awful beating and been so destroyed were far
from desirous to storm again. The 7th and 43rd, whose loss had been
trifling, were ready for anything, but their veteran and experienced
eyes told them affairs were desperate. One Admiral, Codrington,
whose duty as Captain of the Field was to have seen it supplied
with provisions, said, “The troops must attack or the whole will be
starved.” I rather saucily said, “Kill plenty more, Admiral; fewer
rations will be required.” A variety of opinions were agitated. I could
observe what was passing in Sir J. Lambert’s mind by the two or three
remarks he made. So up I jumped, and said, “General, the army are in
no state to renew the attack. If success now attended so desperate an
attempt, we should have no troops to occupy New Orleans; our success
even would defeat our object, and, to take an extreme view, which every
soldier is bound to do, our whole army might be the sacrifice of so
injudicious an assault.” A thick fog was coming on. I said, “We know
the enemy are three times our number. They will endeavour immediately
to cut off our troops on the right bank, and we may expect an attack
in our front. The fog favours us, and Thornton’s people ought to be
brought back and brought into our line. The army is secure, and no
farther disaster is to be apprehended.” The General was fully of my
opinion, as was every officer of experience. I think my noble friend,
“fighting MacDougall,” was the only one for a new fight. That able
officer, Sir A. Dickson, was sent to retire Thornton, and, thanks to
the fog, he succeeded in doing so unmolested, though, at the very
time our people were crossing the river, a powerful body of the enemy
(as I had supposed they would) were crossing to dislodge Thornton;
and the woods on the right bank so favoured their species of warfare,
that Thornton would have met the fate he did at Bladensburg but for
Lambert’s cool judgment. This was my view of the position then, and it
is now.

The number of wounded was three times what the Inspector-General Robb
was told to calculate on, but never did officer meet the difficulties
of his position with greater energy, or display greater resources
within himself. He was ably assisted in the arrangements of boats,
etc., by that able sailor, Admiral Malcolm, and I firmly assert not a
wounded soldier was neglected.

Late in the afternoon I was sent to the enemy with a flag of truce, and
a letter to General Jackson, with a request to be allowed to bury the
dead and bring in the wounded lying between our respective positions.
The Americans were not accustomed to the civility of war, like our old
_associates_ the French, and I was a long time before I could induce
them to receive me. They fired on me with cannon and musketry, which
excited my choler somewhat, for a round shot tore away the ground under
my right foot, which it would have been a bore indeed to have lost
under such circumstances. However, they did receive me at last, and the
reply from General Jackson was a very courteous one.

After the delivery of the reply to General Lambert, I was again sent
out with a fatigue party—a pretty large one too—with entrenching tools
to bury the dead, and some surgeons to examine and bring off the
wounded. I was received by a rough fellow—a Colonel Butler, Jackson’s
Adjutant-General. He had a drawn sword, and no scabbard. I soon saw
the man I had to deal with. I outrode the surgeon, and I apologized
for keeping him waiting; so he said, “Why now, I calculate as your
doctors are tired; they have plenty to do to-day.” There was an awful
spectacle of dead, dying, and wounded around us. “_Do?_” says I, “why
this is nothing to us Wellington fellows! The next brush we have with
you, you shall see how a Brigade of the Peninsular army (arrived
yesterday) will serve you fellows out with the bayonet. They will lie
piled on one another like round shot, if they will only stand.” “Well,
I calculate you must get at ’em first.” “But,” says I, “what do you
carry a drawn sword for?” “Because I reckon a scabbard of no use so
long as one of you Britishers is on our soil. We don’t wish to shoot
you, but we must, if you molest our property; we have thrown away the
scabbard.”

By this time our surgeon had arrived. There were some awful wounds
from cannon shot, and I dug an immense hole, and threw nearly two
hundred bodies into it. To the credit of the Americans not an article
of clothing had been taken from our dead except the shoes. Every body
was straightened, and the great toes tied together with a piece of
string. A more appalling spectacle cannot well be conceived than this
common grave, the bodies hurled in as fast as we could bring them. The
Colonel, Butler, was very sulky if I tried to get near the works. This
scene was not more than about eighty yards away from them, and, had our
fellows rushed on, they would not have lost one half, and victory would
have been ours. I may safely say there was not a vital part of man
in which I did not observe a mortal wound, in many bodies there were
three or four such; some were without heads; there were others, poor
fellows, whom I recognized. In this part of America there were many
Spaniards and Frenchmen. Several soldiers and officers gathered round
me, and I addressed them in their own language. Colonel Butler became
furious, but I would not desist for the moment, and said, “The next
time we meet, Colonel, I hope to receive you to bury your dead.” “Well,
I calculate you have been on that duty to-day,” he said. God only knows
I had, with a heavy heart. It was apparently light enough before him,
but the effort was a violent one.

At night it was General Lambert’s intention to withdraw his line more
out of cannon shot, for we were on a perfect plain, not a mound as
cover, and I and D’Este (His Royal Highness, as I used to call him)
were sent to bring back Blakeney’s Brigade. Blakeney was as anxious a
soldier in the dark as he was noble and gallant when he saw his enemy.
He would fain induce me to believe I did not know my road. I got all
right, though, with the aid of D’Este, who, if the war had lasted,
would have made as able a soldier as his ancestor George the Second. I
did not regard myself, though, as Marlborough, who was little employed
on any retiring duty.

That night I lay down in my cloak, in General Lambert’s room, at twelve
o’clock, so done that all care or thought was banished in sleep. Before
daylight [9 Jan.] I awoke to the horror of the loss of the man I so
loved, admired, and esteemed, and to the feelings of a soldier under
such melancholy circumstances. Those feelings could be but momentary.
It was my duty to jump on my horse and see what was going on at our
post, which I did, after returning Almighty God thanks. Thence to
the hospital to render the Inspector whatever aid he required in
orderlies, etc. Robb deserved and received the highest encomiums for
the arrangements, which secured every care to our wounded.

In returning from the outposts, I met General Lambert. Upon my assuring
him everything was perfectly quiet, he said, “I will now ride to the
hospital.” “I was just going there, sir, and will ride with you.” The
General said, “You must have been pretty well done last night, for
I did not see you when I lay down.” “Yes, I had a long day, but we
Light Division fellows are used to it.” “Smith, that most amiable man
and cool and collected soldier, Secretary Wylly, will take home the
dispatches of the melancholy disaster, and of the loss of his General
and patron, and I offer for your acceptance my Military Secretaryship.”
I laughed, and said, “Me, sir! I write the most illegible and
detestable scrawl in the world.” “You can, therefore,” he mildly said,
“the more readily decipher mine. Poor Pakenham was much attached to
you, and strongly recommended you to me.” I had borne up well on my
loss before, but I now burst into a flood of tears, with—“God rest his
gallant soul.” From that moment to the present, dear General Lambert
has ever treated me as one of his own family. Our lamented General’s
remains were put in a cask of spirits and taken home by his Military
Secretary, Wylly, who sailed in a few days with dispatches of no
ordinary character—a record of lamentable disaster, and anything but
honour to our military fame.

It was resolved to re-embark the army, and abandon the idea of further
operations against the city of New Orleans, for the enemy had greatly
added to his strength in men and works on both banks of the river. This
decision was come to although we were expecting reinforcements, the
40th and 27th Regiments, and that noble soldier, Sir Manley Power. The
enemy continually cannonaded our position, and caused us some loss.
We were obliged, however, to maintain an advance position to cover
effectually the embarcation of all the impedimenta, etc., invariably
giving out as a ruse that we were only disencumbering ourselves of
wounded, sick, etc.

I was sent in, also, with a flag of truce to propose an exchange of
prisoners. Two Companies of the 21st Regiment and many of our Riflemen
had crowned the works, and, not being supported by the rush of the
column, of course were taken prisoners. (It was all very well to
victimize[61] old Mullins[62]; the fascines, ladders, etc., could have
been supplied by one word which I will not name,[63] or how could
these two Companies have mounted the works?) Similarly we had several
men of theirs taken the night the enemy attacked General Keane.[64]

In the negotiations for this exchange I was always met by a Mr.
Lushington, General Jackson’s Military Secretary, a perfect gentleman,
and a very able man. He was well known in London, having been Under
Secretary of the Legation. I never had to deal with a more liberal and
clear-headed man. His education had not been military, however, and
in conversation, by questions, etc., I always induced him to believe
we had no intention of abandoning our attempts. On the afternoon when
our prisoners were mutually delivered, I said, “We shall soon meet in
New Orleans, and after that in London.” He was evidently impressed
with the idea that we meant to attack again, and I led him to the
supposition that a night attack would succeed best. We parted excellent
friends, and shook hands, and many notes of courtesy passed between us
afterwards.

So soon as it was dark [18 Jan.] our troops began to move off, and
about twelve o’clock all were well off the ground, and the picquets
were retired. As we were so engaged, the enemy heard us, and in a
moment opened a fire along their line, evidently under the belief that
our night attack was actually about to be made. We retired, up to our
necks in mud, through a swamp to our boats, and the troops and stores,
etc. were all embarked in three days without interruption, or any
attempt whatever, on the part of the enemy.

Thus ended the second awful disaster in America it had been my lot to
be associated with—Buenos Ayres and New Orleans. In the circumstances
of both, many military errors may be traced. But in the case of Buenos
Ayres, Whitelock is more abused than he merits. General Leveson-Gower
was the great culprit; an overbearing, disobedient man, whose first
disobedience, like Adam’s, entailed the misfortune. He was ordered,
when advancing on Buenos Ayres, not to engage the enemy before it
was invested. He did engage, beat them, and might, in the _melée_,
have possessed the city. That he neglected, and he ought to have been
dismissed our service, probably with greater justice than Whitelock,
whose orders were wantonly disobeyed, and the Church of San Domingo
shamefully surrendered. Had it been held, as it might, it would have
enabled Whitelock, from the base of his other success, to have made an
attempt either to rescue the force in San Domingo, or again to have
moved against the city. Whitelock’s plan of attack was injudicious, too
many columns, no weight and ensemble, and when he knew the city was
fortified at every street, he should have effected regular lodgments
and pushed forward from their base. The troops behaved most gallantly.

Poor dear Sir Edward Pakenham, a hero, a soldier, a man of ability
in every sense of the word, had to contend with every imaginable
difficulty, starting with the most unwise and difficult position in
which he found the Army. By perseverance, determination, and that
gallant bearing which so insures confidence, he overcame all but one,
which he never anticipated, a check to the advance of British soldiers
when they ought to have rushed forward. There was no want of example
on the part of officers. The fire, I admit, was the most murderous I
ever beheld before or since; still two Companies were successful in
the assault, and had our heaviest column rushed forward in place of
halting to fire under a fire fifty times superior, our national honour
would not have been tarnished, but have gained fresh lustre, and one of
the ablest generals England ever produced saved to his country and his
friends.

In General Lambert’s dispatches he was good enough to mention me.[65]

CHAPTER XXIII.

CAPTURE OF FORT BOWYER—DISEMBARCATION ON ILE DAUPHINE—END OF
THE AMERICAN WAR—VISIT TO HAVANA AND RETURN-VOYAGE TO
ENGLAND—NEWS OF NAPOLEON’S RETURN TO POWER—HARRY SMITH AT
HIS HOME AT WHITTLESEY.

After the Army was somewhat refreshed, an attempt on Mobile was
resolved on, for which purpose the fleet went down to the mouth of
Mobile Bay. Here there was a wooden fort of some strength, Fort Bowyer,
which some time previously had sunk one of two small craft of our
men-of-war which were attempting to silence it. It was necessary that
this fort should be reduced in order to open the passage of the bay. It
was erected on a narrow neck of land easily invested, and required only
a part of the army to besiege it. It was regularly approached, and when
our breaching batteries were prepared to burn or blow it to the devil,
I was sent to summon it to surrender. The Americans have no particular
respect for flags of truce, and all my Rifle education was required
to protect myself from being rifled and to procure a reception of my
flag. After some little time I was received, and, upon my particular
request, admitted into the fort, to the presence of Major Lawrence, who
commanded, with five Companies, I think, of the 2nd Regiment. I kept
a sharp look-out on the defences, etc., which would not have resisted
our fire an hour. The Major was as civil as a vulgar fellow can be. I
gave him my version of his position, and cheered him on the ability he
had displayed. He said, “Well, now, I calculate you are not far out in
your reckoning. What do you advise me to do? You, I suppose, are one
of Wellington’s men, and understand the rules in these cases.” “This,”
I said, “belongs to the rule that the weakest goes to the wall, and if
you do not surrender at discretion in one hour, we, being the stronger,
will blow up the fort and burn your wooden walls about your ears. All
I can say is, you have done your duty to your country, and no soldier
can do more, or resist the overpowering force of circumstances.” “Well,
if you were in my situation, you would surrender, would you?” “Yes, to
be sure.” “Well, go and tell your General I will surrender to-morrow at
this hour, provided I am allowed to march out with my arms and ground
them outside the fort.” “No,” I said, “I will take no such message
back. My General, in humanity, offers you terms such as he can alone
accept, and the blood of your soldiers be on your own head.” He said,
“Well, now, don’t be hasty.” I could see the Major had some hidden
object in view. I said, therefore, “Now, I tell you what message I
will carry to my General. You open the gates, and one of our Companies
will take possession of it immediately, and a body of troops shall move
up close to its support; then you may remain inside the fort until
to-morrow at this hour, and ground your arms on the glacis.” I took out
pen and ink, wrote down my proposition, and said, “There, now, sign
directly and I go.” He was very obstinate, and I rose to go, when he
said, “Well, now, you are hard upon me in distress.” “The devil I am,”
I said. “We might have blown you into the water, as you did our craft,
without a summons. Good-bye.” “Well, then, give me the pen. If I must,
so be it;” and he signed. His terms were accepted, and the 4th Light
Company took possession of the gate, with orders to rush in in case of
alarm. A supporting column of four hundred men were bivouacked close
at hand with the same orders, while every precaution was taken, so
that, if any descent were made from Mobile, we should be prepared, for,
by the Major’s manner and look under his eyebrows, I could see there
was no little cunning in his composition. We afterwards learned that
a force was embarked at Mobile, and was to have made a descent _that
very night_, but the wind prevented them. We were, however, perfectly
prepared, and Fort Bowyer was ours.

The next day [12 Feb.] the Major marched out and grounded his arms.
He was himself received very kindly on board the _Tonnant_, and his
officers were disposed of in the Fleet. The fellows looked very like
French soldiers, for their uniforms were the same, and much of the same
cut as to buttons, belts, and pipe-clay.

In a few days after the capture of this fort the _Brazen_ sloop-of-war
arrived with dispatches [14 Feb.]. The preliminaries of peace were
signed, and only awaited the ratification of the President, and until
this was or was not effected, hostilities were to cease. We were
all happy enough, for we Peninsular soldiers saw that neither fame
nor any military distinction could be acquired in this species of
milito-nautico-guerilla-plundering-warfare. I got a letter from my dear
wife, who was in health and composure, with my family all in love with
her, and praying of course for my safe return, which she anticipated
would not be delayed, as peace was certain. I for my part was very
ready to return, and I thanked Almighty God from my heart that such
fair prospects were again before me, after such another series of
wonderful escapes.

Pending the ratification, it was resolved to disembark the whole
army on a large island at the entrance of Mobile Bay, called Isle
Dauphine.[66] This was done. At first we had great difficulty in
getting anything like fresh provisions; but, as the sea abounded with
fish, each regiment rigged out a net, and obtained a plentiful supply.
Then our biscuit ran short. We had abundance of flour, but this began
to act on the men and produce dysentery. The want of ovens alone
prevented our making bread. This subject engrossed my attention for
a whole day, but on awakening one morning a sort of vision dictated
to me, “There are plenty of oyster-shells, and there is sand. Burn
the former and make mortar, and construct ovens.” So I sent on board
to Admiral Malcolm to send me a lot of hoops of barrels by way of
a framework for my arch. There was plenty of wood, the shells were
burning, the mortar soon made, my arch constructed, and by three
o’clock there was a slow fire in a very good oven on the ground.
The baker was summoned, and the paste was made, ready to bake at
daylight. The Admiral, dear Malcolm, and our Generals were invited to
breakfast, but I did not tell even Sir John Lambert why I had asked a
breakfast-party. He only laughed and said, “I wish I could give them
a good one!” Oh, the anxiety with which I and my baker watched the
progress of our exertions! We heard the men-of-war’s bells strike eight
o’clock. My breakfast-party was assembled. I had an unusual quantity
of salt beef and biscuit on the table, the party was ready to fall to,
when in I marched at the head of a column of loaves and rolls, all
piping hot and as light as bread should be. The astonishment of the
Admiral was beyond all belief, and he uttered a volley of monosyllables
at the idea of a soldier inventing anything. Oh, how we laughed and ate
new bread, which we hadn’t seen for some time! At first the Admiral
thought I must have induced his steward to bake me the bread as a joke,
when I turned to Sir John and said, “Now, sir, by this time to-morrow
every Company shall have three ovens, and every man his pound and
a half of bread.” I had sent for the Quartermasters of Corps; some
started difficulties, but I soon removed them. One said, “Where are
we to get all the hoops?” This was, I admit, a puzzle. I proposed to
make the arch for the mortar of wood, when a very quick fellow, Hogan,
Quartermaster of the Fusiliers, said, “I have it: make a bank of sand,
plaster over it; make your oven; when complete, scratch the sand out.”
In a camp everything gets wind, and Harry Smith’s ovens were soon in
operation all over the island. There were plenty of workmen, and the
morrow produced the bread.

The officers erected a theatre, and we had great fun in various
demi-savage ways. Bell, the Quartermaster-General, dear noble fellow,
arrived, and a Major Cooper, and, of some importance to me, my stray
portmanteau. I was half asleep one morning, rather later than usual,
having been writing the greater part of the night, when I heard old
West say, “Sir, sir.” “What’s the matter?” “Thank the Lord, you’re
alive.” “What do you mean, you old ass?” “Why, a navigator has been
going round and round your tent all night; here’s a regular road about
the tent.” He meant an alligator, of which there were a great many on
the island. The young ones our soldiers used to eat. I tasted a bit
once; the meat was white, and the flavour like coarsely-fed pork.

In this very tent I was writing some very important documents for my
General; the sandflies had now begun to be very troublesome, and that
day they were positively painful. I ever hated tobacco, but a thought
struck me, a good volume of smoke would keep the little devils off me.
I called my orderly, a soldier of the 43rd, and told old West, who
chawed a pound a day at least, to give him plenty of tobacco, and he
was to make what smoke he could, for of two evils this was by far the
least. The old Peninsular soldiers off parade were all perfectly at
home with their officers, and he puffed away for a long time while I
was writing, he being under my table. After a time he put his head out
with a knowing look, and said, “If you please, sir, this is drier work
than in front of Salamanca, where water was not to be had, and what’s
more, no grog neither.” I desired West to bring him both rum and water.
“Now, your honour, if you can write as long as I can smoke, you’ll
write the history of the world, and I will kill all the midges.”

The ratification at length arrived [5 March], and the army was prepared
to embark. Sir John Lambert, Baynes his Aide-de-camp, and I were to go
home in the _Brazen_ sloop-of-war, with a Captain Stirling, now Sir
James, who was ultimately the founder of the Swan River Settlement. A
more perfect gentleman or active sailor never existed: we have been
faithful friends ever since. As many wounded as the _Brazen_ could
carry were embarked, and we weighed with one of our noble men-of-war.

As soon as the word was given, we sailed to the Havannah for fresh
provisions. We spent a merry week there, when Stirling and I were
inseparable. We were all _fêted_ at the house of a Mr. Drake, nominally
a wealthy merchant, but actually in every respect a prince. I never saw
a man live so superbly. He put carriages at our disposal; one for Sir
John Lambert, and one for me and Stirling. He was married to a Spanish
woman, a very ladylike person, who played and sang beautifully. I could
speak Spanish perfectly, and the compatriot connexion I told her and
her maiden sisters of made us friends at once. My spare time, however,
was spent in the house of the Governor, Assuduco, who had a daughter
so like my wife in age, figure, etc., and speaking English about as
much as she could, I was never so much amused as in her society; and
my wife and she corresponded afterwards. We stayed in the Havannah a
week, and the public drives brought us all back again to the Prado of
Madrid. Although the beauty of the ladies of the capital was wanting,
the costumes were equally elegant.

The celebrated Woodville, the cigar manufacturer, asked us to a public
breakfast at his house, four or five miles out of the city. He was
about six feet two, as powerful a man as I ever saw; his hair in
profusion, but as white as snow; the picture of health, with a voice
like thunder. He was rough, but hospitable, and after breakfast showed
us the various processes of his manufactory, and the number of hands
each went through. “Now,” says he, “Sir John, I have another sight to
show you, which few men can boast of.” With his fingers in his mouth,
he gave a whistle as loud as a bugle, when out ran from every direction
a lot of children, of a variety of shades of colour, all looking happy
and healthy. Not one appeared above twelve or thirteen. “Ah,” he
said, “report says, and I believe it, they are every one of them my
children.” “Count them,” he said to me. I did; there were forty-one. I
thought Stirling and I would have died of laughing. Sir John Lambert,
one of the most amiable and moral men in the world, said so mildly,
“A very large family indeed, Mr. Woodville,” that it set Stirling and
me off again, and the old patriarch joined in the laugh, with, “Ah,
the seed of Abraham would people the earth indeed, if every one of his
descendants could show _my_ family.”

After a week of great amusement we sailed from Havana. The harbour and
entrance are perfectly beautiful: the works most formidable, but the
Spaniards would not let us inside. Sailing into the harbour is like
entering a large gateway; the sails are almost within reach of the
Moro rock, and there is a swell setting into the harbour, which gives
the ship a motion, as if every wave would dash her on the Moro.

In the Gulf of Florida we encountered a most terrific gale, wind and
current at variance, and oh, such a sea! We lay to for forty-eight
hours; we could not cook, and the main deck was flooded. Sir John
and I never got out of our cots: he perfectly good-humoured on all
occasions, and always convincing himself, and endeavouring to convince
us, that the gale was abating. The third morning Stirling came to my
cot. “Come, turn out; you will see how I manage my craft. I am going to
make sail, and our lubberly cut may set us on our beam-ends, or sink
us altogether.” A delightful prospect, indeed. He was and is a noble
seaman, all animation, and he was so clear and decided in his orders!
Sail was made amid waves mountains high, and the _Brazen_, as impudent
a craft as ever spurned the mighty billows, so beautifully was she
managed and steered, rode over or evaded seas apparently overwhelming;
and Stirling, in the pride of his sailor’s heart, says, “There, now,
what would you give to be a sailor?” It really was a sight worth
looking at—a little bit of human construction stemming and resisting
the power of the mighty deep.

As we neared the mouth of the British Channel, we had, of course, the
usual thick weather, when a strange sail was reported. It was now
blowing a fresh breeze; in a few minutes we spoke her, but did not
make her haul her main-topsail, being a bit of a merchantman. Stirling
hailed as we shot past. “Where are you from?” “Portsmouth.” “Any news?”
“No, none.” The ship was almost out of sight, when we heard, “Ho!
Bonapart_er_’s back again on the throne of France.” Such a hurrah as I
set up, tossing my hat over my head! “I will be a Lieutenant-Colonel
yet before the year’s out!” Sir John Lambert said, “Really, Smith, you
are so vivacious! How is it possible? It cannot be.” He had such faith
in the arrangements of our government, he wouldn’t believe it. I said,
“Depend upon it, it’s truth; a beast like that skipper never could have
invented it, when he did not even regard it as news: ‘No, no news; only
Bonaparte’s back again on the throne of France.’ Depend on it, it’s
true.” “No, Smith, no.” Stirling believed it, and oh, how he carried
on! We were soon at Spithead, when all the men-of-war, the bustle, the
general appearance, told us, before we could either see telegraphic
communication or speak any one, where “Bonaparter” was.

We anchored about three o’clock, went on shore immediately, and shortly
after were at dinner in the George. Old West had brought from the
Havannah two pups of little white curly dogs, a dog and bitch, which
he said were “a present for missus.” They are very much esteemed in
England, these Havana lapdogs; not much in _my_ way.

The charm of novelty which I experienced on my former visit to England
after seven years’ absence, was much worn off, and I thought of
nothing but home. Sir John and I started for London in a chaise at
night, and got only as far as Guildford. I soon found our rate of
progression would not do, and I asked his leave to set off home. At
that time he was not aware of all my tale. I never saw his affectionate
heart angry before; he positively scolded me, and said, “I will report
our arrival; write to me, that I may know your address, for I shall
most probably very soon want you again.” My wife and Sir John were
afterwards the greatest friends.

So Mr. West and I got a chaise, and off we started, and got to London
on a Sunday, the most melancholy place on that day on earth. I drove
to my old lodgings, where I had last parted from my wife. They
could assure me she was well, as she had very lately ordered a new
riding-habit. So I ordered a post-chaise, and ran from Panton Square to
Weeks’ in the Haymarket, and bought a superb dressing-case and a heavy
gold chain; I had brought a lot of Spanish books from the Havannah. So
on this occasion I did not return to my home naked and penniless, as
from Coruña.

I got to Waltham Cross about twelve o’clock. I soon found a pair of
horses was far too slow for my galloping ideas; so I got four, and we
galloped along then as fast as I could wish. I rattled away to the
Falcon Inn in my native place, Whittlesea; for I dare not drive to my
father’s house. I sent quietly for him, and he was with me in a moment.
The people were in church as I drove past. My wife was there, so as
yet she was safe from any sudden alarm. She and my sisters took a walk
after church, when servants were sent in every direction in search of
them, with orders quietly to say that my father wanted my sisters. A
fool of a fellow being the first to find them, and delighted with his
prowess, ran up, shouting, “Come home directly; a gentleman has come
in a chaise-and-four”—who, he did not know. My poor wife, as he named
no one, immediately believed some one had arrived to say I was killed,
and down she fell senseless. My sisters soon restored her, and they ran
home, to their delight, into my arms. My wife and I were never again
separated,[67] though many an eventful scene was in store and at hand
for us.

[Illustration: ST. MARY’S, WHITTLESEY.

_From a photograph by A. Gray, Whittlesey, 1900._

[_Opposite p. 260._]

We were now all happiness. During my few months’ absence nothing had
occurred to damp their contentment; so we all blessed God Almighty
that I had again been protected in such awful situations both by land
and sea, while so many families had to grieve for the loss of their
dearest relatives. Pug and Tiny recognized me. I heard from Sir John
Lambert that he was to be employed with the army assembling at Brussels
under the Duke, that I had better be prepared to join him at a few
hours’ notice, that my position near him would require horses. I knew
that “Major of Brigade” was the berth intended for me. My wife was
to accompany me again to the war, but nothing affected us _when
united_; the word “separation” away, all was smooth. All was now
excitement, joy, hope and animation, and preparation of riding-habits,
tents, canteens, etc., my sisters thinking of all sorts of things for
my wife’s comfort, which we could as well have carried as our parish
church. My youngest brother but one, Charles, was to go with me to join
the 1st Battalion Rifle Brigade, as a Volunteer,[68] and his departure
added to the excitement. I never was more happy in all my life; not a
thought of the future (though God knows we had enough before us), for
my wife was going and all the agony of parting was spared.

I immediately set to work to buy a real good stud. Two horses I bought
at Newmarket, and two in my native place; and as Tiny the faithful was
voted too old, as was the mare I had with me in Spain and Washington, I
bought for my wife, from a brother, a mare of great celebrity, bred by
my father, a perfect horse for a lady who was an equestrian artist.

In a few days I had a kind letter from Sir John Lambert, saying I was
appointed his Major of Brigade; and as he was to proceed to Ghent in
Flanders, recommending me, being in Cambridgeshire, to proceed _viâ_
Harwich for Ostend, as I must find my own passage unless I went on a
transport. West was therefore despatched with my four horses _viâ_
Newmarket for Harwich, and I intended so to start as to be there the
day my horses would arrive.

The evening before we started, my father, wife, sisters, myself, and
brothers had a long ride. On returning, at the end of the town, there
was a new stiff rail, with a ditch on each side. I was riding my dear
old mare, that had been at Washington, etc., and off whose back poor
Lindsay had been killed;[69] she was an elegant fencer, and as bold
as in battle. I said to my sisters, “I will have one more leap on my
war-horse.” I rode her at it. Whether she had grown old, or did not
measure her leap, I don’t know, but over she rolled. One of my legs was
across the new and narrow ditch, her shoulder right upon it; I could
not pull it from under her. I expected every moment, if she struggled,
to feel my leg broken, and there was an end to my Brigade Majorship! I
passed a hand down, until I got short hold of the curb, and gave her a
snatch with all my force. She made an effort, and I drew my leg out,
more faint than subsequently in the most sanguinary conflict of the
whole war. I never felt more grateful for an escape.

CHAPTER XXIV.

HARRY SMITH AND HIS WIFE START TOGETHER FOR THE WATERLOO
CAMPAIGN—GHENT—BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

My wife and I and my brother Charles were to start in a chaise at
three o’clock the next morning. I never saw my poor father suffer so
much as at thus parting from three of us at once, and feeling that his
companion, my wife, was lost to him. He said, “Napoleon and Wellington
will meet, a battle will ensue of a kind never before heard of, and I
cannot expect to see you all again.”

We reached Harwich in the afternoon, found West, his horses, and
all our things right, and went to the Black Bull, from whence I
had embarked years before for Gottenburgh. There we found my old
acquaintance, the landlord, Mr. Briton, a man as civil as full of
information. He said I had no chance of embarking at Harwich, unless I
freighted a small craft that he would look out, and fitted it up for my
horses.

Next day I came to terms with the skipper of a sloop of a few tons’
burden, himself and a boy the crew. I couldn’t help thinking of the
74’s and frigates in which I had been flying over the ocean. We
measured it, and found there was just room for the horses, and a hole
aft, called a cabin, for my wife and self and brother. I did not intend
to embark the horses till the wind was fair—a fortunate plan, for I
was detained in the Black Bull by foul winds for a fortnight. The wind
becoming fair, in the afternoon we embarked all our traps. Mr. Briton
amply provided us with provisions and forage, and brought his bill for
myself, wife, brother, two grooms, five horses, lady’s maid, sea stock,
etc. I expected it to be fifty or sixty pounds; it was twenty-four
and some shillings, and we had lived on the fat of the land, for
having been half-starved so many years, when once in the flesh-pots of
England, we revelled in a plenty which we could scarcely fancy would
last.

A gentle breeze carried us over to Ostend in twenty-four hours,
where we landed our horses by slinging them and dropping them into
the sea to swim ashore. My wife’s noble mare, which we called the
“Brass Mare” after her son of that ilk, when in the slings and in
sight of the shore, neighed most gallantly, and my wife declared it
an omen of brilliant success. We went to the great inn of Ostend. The
difference between it and our late bivouac, the Black Bull, is not to
be described. I found an English horse-dealer there. I bought two mules
of him and a stout Flanders pony for our baggage, and in three days we
were _en route_ for Ghent, stopping one night at Bruges, where was an
excellent inn, and the best Burgundy I had drunk up to that hour. My
wife was delighted to be once more in campaigning trim.

When we reached Ghent we found Sir John Lambert had reached it the day
before. Louis XVIII. was there, his Court and idlers, and Ghent was in
as great a state of excitement as if the Duke of Marlborough was again
approaching. I found our Brigade were all New Orleans Regiments—three
of the best regiments of the old Army of the Peninsula, the 4th, 27th,
and 40th, and the 81st in garrison at Brussels. We were ordered to be
in perfect readiness to take the field with the warning[70] we had been
so many years accustomed to.

Louis held a Court while we were there. I was near the door he entered
by. He was very inactive, but impressive in manner. He laid his hand on
my shoulder to support himself. His great topic of conversation was how
delighted he was to see us, and how much he was indebted to our nation.
A more benign countenance I never beheld, nor did his subsequent reign
belie the benignity of his expression.

While at Ghent I waited on Sir John Lambert every morning just after
breakfast for orders. On one occasion we heard a voice thundering in
the passage to him, “Hallo there, where the devil’s the door?” I went
out, and to my astonishment saw our noble friend Admiral Malcolm. “Why,
where the devil has Lambert stowed himself? The house is as dark as
a sheer hulk.” He was delighted to see us, and sang out, “Come, bear
a hand and get me some breakfast; no regular hours on shore as in the
_Royal Oak_.” He had been appointed to the command of the coast. He
was very much attached to the Duke. During our stay at Ghent we had
Brigade parades almost every day, and my General, an ex-Adjutant of the
Guards, was most particular in all guard mountings, sentries, and all
the correct minutiæ of garrison. The three regiments were in beautiful
fighting trim, although the headquarters ship with the Grenadiers, the
27th, had not arrived from America. Poor 27th! in a few days they had
not two hundred men in the ranks.

As we anticipated, our march from Ghent was very sudden. In an hour
after the order arrived we moved _en route_ for Brussels. We reached
Asche on the afternoon of the 16th June. The rapid and continuous
firing at Quatre Bras, as audible as if we were in the fight, put us in
mind of old times, as well as on the _qui vive_. We expected an order
every moment to move on. We believed the firing to be at Fleurus. As we
approached Brussels the next day [17 June], we met an orderly with a
letter from that gallant fellow De Lancey, Q.M.G., to direct us to move
on Quatre Bras.

In the afternoon, after we passed Brussels, the scene of confusion,
the flying of army, baggage, etc., was an awful novelty to us. We were
directed by a subsequent order to halt at the village of Epinay, on
the Brussels side of the forest of Soignies, a report having reached
his Grace that the enemy’s cavalry were threatening our communication
with Brussels (as we understood, at least). The whole afternoon we
were in a continued state of excitement. Once some rascals of the
Cumberland Hussars, a new Corps of Hanoverians (not of the style of our
noble and gallant old comrades, the 1st Hussars), came galloping in,
declaring they were pursued by Frenchmen. Our bugles were blowing in
all directions, and our troops running to their alarm-posts in front of
the village. I went to report to Sir John Lambert, who was just sitting
quietly down to dinner with my wife and his A.D.C. He says very coolly,
“Let the troops——; this is all nonsense; there is not a French soldier
in the rear of his Grace, depend on it, and sit down to dinner.” I set
off, though, and galloped to the front, where a long line of baggage
was leisurely retiring. This was a sufficient indication that the alarm
was false, and I dismissed the troops and started for the _débris_ of
a magnificent turbot which the General’s butler had brought out of
Brussels. This was in the afternoon.

Such a thunderstorm and deluge of rain now came on, it drenched all
that was exposed to it, and in a few minutes rendered the country deep
in mud and the roads very bad. All night our baggage kept retiring
through the village.

In the course of the night, Lambert’s Brigade were ordered to move
up to the position the Duke had taken up in front of the forest of
Soignies, and our march was very much impeded by waggons upset,
baggage thrown down, etc. [18 June]. We met Sir George Scovell, an
A.Q.M.G. at head-quarters, who said he was sent by the Duke to see the
rear was clear, that it was choked between this and the Army, and the
Duke expected to be attacked immediately; our Brigade must clear the
road before we moved on. Our men were on fire at the idea of having to
remain and clear a road when an attack was momentarily expected, and
an hour would bring us to the position. The wand of a magician, with
all his spells and incantations, could not have effected a clear course
sooner than our 3000 soldiers of the old school.

This effected, General Lambert sent me on to the Duke for orders.
I was to find the Duke himself, and receive orders from no other
person. About 11 o’clock I found his Grace and all his staff near
Hougoumont. The day was beautiful after the storm, although the
country was very heavy. When I rode up, he said, “Hallo, Smith, where
are you from last?” “From General Lambert’s Brigade, and they from
America.” “What have you got?” “The 4th, the 27th, and the 40th; the
81st remain in Brussels.” “Ah, I know, I know; but the others, are
they in good order?” “Excellent, my lord, and very strong.” “That’s
all right, for I shall soon want every man.” One of his staff said,
“I do not think they will attack to-day.” “Nonsense,” said the Duke.
“The columns are already forming, and I think I have discerned where
the weight of the attack will be made. I shall be attacked before an
hour. Do you know anything of my position, Smith?” “Nothing, my lord,
beyond what I see—the general line, and right and left.” “Go back and
halt Lambert’s Brigade at the junction of the two great roads from
Genappe and Nivelles. Did you observe their junction as you rode up?”
“Particularly, my lord.” “Having halted the head of the Brigade and
told Lambert what I desire, ride to the left of the position. On the
extreme left is the Nassau Brigade[71]—those fellows who came over to
us at Arbonne, you recollect.[72] Between them and Picton’s Division
(now the 5th) I shall most probably require Lambert. There is already
there a Brigade of newly-raised Hanoverians, which Lambert will give
orders to, as they and your Brigade form the 6th Division. You are the
only British Staff Officer with it. Find out, therefore, the best and
shortest road from where Lambert is now halted to the left of Picton
and the right of the Nassau troops. Do you understand?” “Perfectly, my
lord.” I had barely turned from his Grace when he called me back. “Now,
clearly understand that when Lambert is ordered to move from the fork
of the two roads where he is now halted, you are prepared to conduct
him to Picton’s left.” It was delightful to see his Grace that morning
on his noble horse Copenhagen—in high spirits and very animated, but
so cool and so clear in the issue of his orders, it was impossible not
fully to comprehend what he said; delightful also to observe what his
wonderful eye anticipated, while some of his staff were of opinion the
attack was not in progress.

I had hardly got back to Lambert, after reconnoitring the country and
preparing myself to conduct the troops, when the Battle of Waterloo
commenced. We soon saw that where we should be moved to, the weight of
the attack on Picton would be resisted by none but British soldiers.
For a few seconds, while every regiment was forming square, and the
charge of Ponsonby’s Brigade going on (which the rising ground in
our front prevented us seeing), it looked as if the formation was
preparatory to a retreat. Many of the rabble of Dutch troops were
flying towards us, and, to add to the confusion, soon after came a
party of dragoons, bringing with them three eagles and some prisoners.
I said to General Lambert, “We shall have a proper brush immediately,
for it looks as if our left will be immediately turned, and the brunt
of the charge will fall on us.” At this moment we were ordered to
move to the very spot where the Duke, _early in the morning_, had
expected we should be required. Picton had been killed, Sir James Kempt
commanded on the left of the road to Genappe, near La Haye Sainte;
his Division had been already severely handled, and we took their
position, my old Battalion of Riflemen remaining with us.

The Battle of Waterloo has been too often described, and nonsense
enough written about the Crisis,[73] for me to add to it. Every moment
was a crisis, and the controversialists had better have left the
discussion on the battle-field. Every Staff officer had two or three
(and one four) horses shot under him. I had one wounded in six, another
in seven places, but not seriously injured. The fire was terrific,
especially of cannon.

Late in the day, when the enemy had made his last great effort on
our centre, the field was so enveloped in smoke that nothing was
discernible. The firing ceased on both sides, and we on the left knew
that one party or the other was beaten. This was the most anxious
moment of my life. In a few seconds we saw the red-coats in the centre,
as stiff as rocks, and the French columns retiring rapidly, and there
was such a British shout as rent the air. We all felt then to whom the
day belonged. It was time the “Crisis” should arrive, for we had been
at work some hours, and the hand of death had been most unsparing.
One Regiment, the 27th, had only two officers left—Major Hume, who
commanded from the beginning of the battle, and another—and they were
both wounded, and only a hundred and twenty soldiers were left with
them.

At this moment I saw the Duke, with only one Staff officer remaining,
galloping furiously to the left. I rode on to meet him. “Who commands
here?” “Generals Kempt and Lambert, my lord.” “Desire them to get into
a column of companies of Battalions, and move on immediately.” I said,
“In which direction, my lord?” “Right ahead, to be sure.” I never saw
his Grace so animated. The _Crisis_ was general, from one end of the
line to the other.

That evening at dark we halted, literally on the ground we stood on;
not a picquet was required, and our whole cavalry in pursuit. Then
came the dreadful tale of killed and wounded; it was enormous, and
every moment the loss of a dear friend was announced. To my wonder,
my astonishment, and to my gratitude to Almighty God, I and my two
brothers—Tom, the Adjutant of the 2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade, who had,
during the day, attracted the Duke’s attention by his gallantry, and
Charles, in the 1st Battalion, who had been fighting for two days—were
all safe and unhurt, except that Charles had a slight wound in the
neck. In the thunderstorm the previous evening he had tied a large silk
handkerchief over his stock; he forgot to take it off, and probably
owed his life to so trifling a circumstance. There was not an instance
throughout the Army of _two_ brothers in the field escaping.[74] We
were three, and I could hardly credit my own eyes. We had nothing to
eat or drink. I had some tea in my writing-case, but no sugar. It had
been carried by an orderly, although in the ranks. He found me out
after the battle, and I made some tea in a soldier’s tin for Sir James
Kempt, Sir John Lambert, and myself; and while we were thus regaling,
up came my brother, of whose safety I was not aware.

Captain McCulloch of the 95th Regiment wished to see me. He was a
dear friend whom I had not seen since he was awfully wounded at Foz
d’Aruz [Foz de Aronce] on Massena’s retreat, after having had seven
sabre-wounds at the Coa, in Massena’s advance, and been taken prisoner.
He was in a cottage near, awfully wounded. I found him lying in great
agony, but very composed. “Oh, Harry, so long since we have met, and
now again under such painful circumstances; but, thank God, you and Tom
are all right.” I had brought all my remaining tea, which he ravenously
swallowed. The ball had dreadfully broken the elbow of the sound arm,
and had passed right through the fleshy part of his back, while the
broken bone of the arm previously shattered at Foz d’Aruz was still
exfoliating, and very painful even after a lapse of years. I got hold
of a surgeon, and his arm was immediately amputated. When dressed, he
lay upon the stump, as this was less painful than the old exfoliating
wound, and on his back he could not lie. He recovered, but was never
afterwards able to feed himself or put on his hat, and died, Heaven
help him, suddenly of dysentery.

No one, but those who have witnessed the awful scene, knows the horrors
of a field of battle—the piles of the dead, the groans of the dying,
the agony of those dreadfully wounded, to whom frequently no assistance
can be rendered at the moment; some still in perfect possession of
their intellect, game to the last, regarding their recovery as more
than probable, while the clammy perspiration of death has already
pounced upon its victim; others, again, perfectly sensible of their
dissolution, breathing into your keeping the feelings and expressions
of their last moments—messages to father, mother, wife, or dearest
relatives. Well might Walter Scott say—

“Thou canst not name one tender tie
But here dissolved its relics lie.”

Often have I myself, tired and exhausted in such scenes, almost
regretted the life I have adopted, in which one never knows at any
moment how near or distant one’s own turn may be. In such dejection
you sink into a profound sleep, and you stand up next morning in fresh
spirits. Your country’s calls, your excitement, honour and glory,
again impel, and undauntedly and cheerfully you expose that life which
the night before you fancied was of value. A soldier’s life is one
continued scene of excitement, hope, anticipation; fear for himself he
never knows, though the loss of his comrade pierces his heart.

Before daylight next morning [19 June] a Staff officer whose name
I now forget, rode up to where we were all lying, and told us of
the complete _déroute_ of the French, and the vigorous pursuit of
the Prussians, and that it was probable that our Division would
not move for some hours. At daylight I was on horseback, with a
heart of gratitude as became me, and anxious to let my wife know
I was all right. I took a party of each Regiment of my Division
with me, and went back to the field; for I was now established as
Assistant-Quartermaster-General.

I had been over many a field of battle, but with the exception of
one spot at New Orleans, and the breach of Badajos, I had never seen
anything to be compared with what I saw. At Waterloo the _whole_ field
from right to left was a mass of dead bodies. In one spot, to the
right of La Haye Sainte, the French Cuirassiers were literally piled
on each other; many soldiers not wounded lying under their horses;
others, fearfully wounded, occasionally with their horses struggling
upon their wounded bodies. The sight was sickening, and I had no means
or power to assist them. Imperative duty compelled me to the field of
my comrades, where I had plenty to do to assist many who had been left
out all night; some had been believed to be dead, but the spark of life
had returned. All over the field you saw officers, and as many soldiers
as were permitted to leave the ranks, leaning and weeping over some
dead or dying brother or comrade. The battle was fought on a Sunday,
the 18th June, and I repeated to myself a verse from the Psalms of that
day—91st Psalm, 7th verse: “A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten
thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee.” I blessed
Almighty God our Duke was spared, and galloped to my General, whom I
found with some breakfast awaiting my arrival.

So many accounts and descriptions have been given of the Battle of
Waterloo, I shall only make one or two observations. To those who say
the ultimate success of the day was achieved by the arrival of the
Prussians, I observe that the Prussians were part of the whole on which
his Grace calculated, as much as on the co-operation of one of his own
Divisions; that they ought to have been in the field much sooner, and
by their late arrival seriously endangered his Grace’s left flank;
and had Napoleon pushed the weight of his attack and precipitated
irresistible numbers on our left, he would have forced the Duke to
throw back his left and break our communication with the Prussians. The
Duke’s army was a heterogeneous mass, not the old Peninsular veterans;
young 2nd Battalions most of them, others intermixed with the rabble
of our allied army. Thus the Duke could not have counter-manœuvred on
his left, as he would have been able with his old army; and we had one
Division under Colville far away to our right.

Napoleon fought the battle badly; his attacks were not simultaneous,
but partial and isolated, and enabled the Duke to repel each by
a concentration. His cavalry was sacrificed early in the day. If
Napoleon did not desire to turn our left flank, and the battle is to
be regarded as a fight hand to hand, he fought it badly.

By a general attack upon our line with his overpowering force
of artillery, followed up by his infantry, he might have put
_hors-de-combat_ far more of our army than he did. His cavalry would
have been fresh, and had he employed this devoted and gallant auxiliary
late in the day as he did early, his attempts to defeat us would have
been far more formidable.

His artillery and cavalry behaved most nobly, but I maintain his
infantry did not. In proof, I will record one example. On the left,
in front of the 5th Division, 25,000 of the Young Guard attacked in
column. Picton was just killed, and Kempt commanded. It is true this
column advanced under a galling fire, but it succeeded in reaching
the spot where it intended to deploy. Kempt ordered the Battalion
immediately opposite the head of the column to charge. It was a poor
miserable Battalion compared with some of ours, yet did it dash like
British soldiers at the column, which went about. Then it was that
Ponsonby’s Brigade got in among them, and took eagles and prisoners.

As a battle of science, it was demonstrative of no manœuvre. It was no
Salamanca or Vittoria, where science was so beautifully exemplified:
it was as a stand-up fight between two pugilists, “mill away” till one
is beaten. The Battle of Waterloo, with all its political glory, has
destroyed the field movement of the British Army, so scientifically
laid down by Dundas, so improved on by that hero of war and of drill,
Sir John Moore. All that light-troop duty which he taught, by which
the world through the medium of the Spanish War was saved, is now
replaced by the most heavy of manœuvres, by squares, centre formations,
and moving in masses, which require time to collect and equal time to
extend; and all because the Prussians and Russians did not know how to
move quicker, we, forsooth, must adopt their ways, although Picton’s
Division at Quatre Bras nobly showed that British infantry can resist
cavalry in any shape. It is true the Buffs were awfully mauled at
Albuera, but what did my kind patron, Sir William Stewart, order them
to do? They were in open column of companies right in front, and it
was necessary at once to deploy into line, which Sir William with his
light 95th had been accustomed to do on any company: he orders them,
therefore, to deploy on the Grenadiers; by this the right would become
the left, what in common parlance is termed “clubbed;” and while he
was doing this, he kept advancing the Grenadiers. It is impossible
to imagine a battalion in a more helpless position, and it never can
be cited as any criterion that a battalion must be in squares to
resist cavalry. At the Battle of Fuentes d’Oñoro, the overwhelming
French cavalry, having rapidly put back our very inferior force, were
upon a regiment of infantry of the 7th Division, to the right of the
Light Division, before either were aware. The French advance of the
Chasseurs Britanniques, I think (it was _one_ of the mongrels, as we
called those corps, anyhow), was imposing, heavy, and rapid (I was
close to the left of our infantry at the time), but it made not the
slightest impression on the regiment in line; on the contrary, the
Chasseurs were repulsed with facility and loss.

But to return to our narrative. A party was sent to bury the dead of
each regiment as far as possible. For the Rifle Brigade, my brother
Charles was for the duty. In gathering the dead bodies, he saw among
the dead of our soldiers the body of a French officer of delicate mould
and appearance. On examining it, he found it was that of a delicate,
young, and handsome female. My story ends here, but such is the fact.
What were the circumstances of devotion, passion, or patriotism which
led to such heroism, is, and ever will be, to me a mystery. Love,
depend upon it.

That afternoon we moved forward by the Nivelles road. I had to go into
my General’s room. I was not aware he was there, and entered abruptly.
He was changing his shirt, when I saw he had received a most violent
contusion on his right arm. It was fearfully swelled (in those days
our coat-sleeves were made very large), and as black as ebony from the
shoulder to the wrist. “My dear General,” I said, “what an arm! I did
not know you had been wounded.” “No, nor you never would, if accident
had not shown you.” He made me promise to say nothing, about which I
compromised by saying, “To no one but to a surgeon, whom you must see.
An arm in that state, if inflammation succeed, might slough, and you
would lose it.” The General would not see a surgeon, and thank God he
got well.

But turn we now to the poor wife. I left her at daylight on the 18th,
prepared to get on her horse and go to Brussels, to await the result of
the storm of war which I had prepared her for. Her tale of wonder must
form a separate and distinct narrative.

CHAPTER XXV.

JUANA’S STORY.[75]

When the troops had moved forward on the morning of the 18th June, I,
as you directed, got on my horse and went to Brussels, intending to
await the result of the pending battle. On arrival I found my baggage
and servant in the great square, and an order had just arrived for the
whole of the baggage of the army to move on the road towards Antwerp,
and afterwards to cross the canal about five miles from Brussels, at a
village on the Antwerp side. On reaching the village I dismounted, the
baggage was unloaded, and West was endeavouring to get something for
me to eat in the inn. It was about five o’clock. Suddenly an alarm was
given that the enemy was upon us. West brought my mare to the door as
quickly as I could run downstairs, but from the noise, confusion, and
everything, my horse was perfectly frantic. West succeeded in tossing
me up, but my little pug, Vitty, was still below. I said, “Now, West,
give me my dog;” when, as he put her into my lap, I dropped my reins.
West, knowing I always gathered up my reins before I jumped up, let go,
and off flew the mare with such speed that, with the dog in my lap, it
was all I could do for some time to keep my seat. I had the snaffle
rein in my hand, but I could not restrain her; the curb rein was flying
loose, and I couldn’t stoop to get hold of it. She flew with me through
the streets of Malines, across a bridge over the river, the road full
of horses and baggage, still flying away, away, until I was perfectly
out of breath. I saw a waggon upset lying immediately before me across
the road, and I knew that if I could not turn her on one side, I must
inevitably be knocked to pieces. The mare would not answer my snaffle
rein, and I felt her charge the waggon as at a fence to leap it. The
height was beyond the spring of my horse. As the animal endeavoured
to leap, the loose curb rein caught. This brought her at once to a
halt, and I was precipitated on her head, pug and all. I had come at
this rate eight miles, over a road covered with mud and dirt. The mare
was as much out of breath as I was. I managed to get back into the
saddle, and felt that now was my only chance to get hold of the curb. I
succeeded in doing so, and we were then on terms of equality.

Having righted my habit, I looked back and saw some five or six men on
horseback, whom of course I construed into French Dragoons, although,
if I had considered a moment, I should have known that no Dragoon could
have come the pace _I_ did; but I was so exhausted, I exclaimed,
“Well, if I am to be taken, I had better at once surrender.” The first
horseman proved to be one of my servants, riding one of the Newmarket
horses, having taken the animal from West against his orders. The
others were a Commissary, an officer of the Hanoverian Rifles, and an
officer, I regret to say, of our own Hussars. I addressed myself to
the Hussar, who appeared the oldest of the party. “Pray, sir, is there
any danger?” (I had forgotten almost all the little English I knew in
my excitement.) “Danger, mum! When I left Brussels the French were in
pursuit down the hill.” “Oh, sir, what shall I do?” “Come on to Antwerp
with me.” He never pulled up. During the whole conversation we were
full gallop. One of the party says, “You deserve no pity. You may well
be fatigued carrying that dog. Throw it down.” I was very angry, and
said I should deserve no pity if I did.

Our pace soon brought us to Antwerp, where the Hussar was very civil,
and tried to get me a room in one of the hotels. This he soon found
was impossible, as all the English visitors at Brussels had fled
there. We must now go to the Hôtel de Ville and try for a billet.
Whilst standing there, the officer having gone inside, I was an object
of curious attention. I was wet from head to foot with the black mud
of the high-road. On my face the mud had dried, and a flood of tears
chasing each other through it down my cheeks must have given me an
odd appearance indeed. While standing on horseback there, an officer
of the English garrison, whom I did not know (he must have learnt my
name from my servant) addressed me by name. “Mrs. Smith, you are in
such a terrible plight, and such is the difficulty of your getting
in anywhere, if you will come with me, I will conduct you to Colonel
Craufurd, the Commandant of the Citadel; his wife and daughters
are most kind and amiable people, and readily, I know, would they
contribute with happiness anything to your comfort.” My situation was
not one to stand on delicacy. I therefore promptly accepted this offer,
leaving my kind Hussar in the Hôtel de Ville. When I arrived, nothing
could exceed the kindness of all, which was as striking at the moment
as it seems to me now. I was stripped from a weight of mud which, with
my long riding-habit, I could hardly move under. A shower of hot water
again showed my features, and I was put in the clothes of good Mrs.
Craufurd, a very tall woman; and in these comfortable dry clothes I was
nearly as much lost as in the case of mud I had been washed out of.

The hospitality of this night ought to have soothed me, but the agony
of hope, doubt, and fear I was in absorbed every other feeling,
although I was so sensible of kindness.

The next day [19 June] the officer who had so kindly brought me to
Colonel Craufurd came to tell me a great quantity of baggage was
momentarily arriving: could I give him any directions or clue to find
mine? In about an hour he returned with my spare horses, old trusty
West, who had never left anything behind, my baggage, and my maid.

In the afternoon we heard of the battle having been fought and won,
but no news of my husband. So, contrary to the wishes of my kind host
and hostess, I ordered my horse to be ready at three o’clock in the
morning to rejoin my husband, whatever shape fate had reduced him to.
It was all I could do to resist the importunity of those kind people
who wished me to remain. But at three o’clock [20 June] West and I
were on horseback, desiring baggage, servants, and horses to follow.
In conversation with West, I ascertained that at the village we fled
from, my mattrass, and in it my dressing-case (bought on a Sunday
at Weeks’[76]) with all my fortune, two Napoleons, had been left in
the inn. When I arrived, I asked the landlord of the little wretched
inn about it. He pretended he knew nothing, but old cunning West got
information in the stable-yard, and gave a boy five francs to conduct
him to the hayloft where my treasure was. West soon transported what
he called _ours_ to me, and upon opening it, I found my important
dressing-case there untouched. I had something in the shape of
breakfast. In the mean time my servants had arrived, the lost mattrass
was restored to the baggage, and West and I, in light marching order,
started for Brussels. We were only five miles away, and arrived by
seven in the morning.

Seeing some of our Rifle soldiers, with an eagerness which may be
imagined, I asked after my husband, when to my horror they told
me that Brigade-Major Smith of the 95th was killed. It was now my
turn to ask the “Brass Mare” to gallop, and in a state approaching
desperation I urged her to the utmost speed for the field of battle to
seek my husband’s corpse. The road from Brussels to the field almost
maddened me, with wounded men and horses, and corpses borne forward to
Brussels for interment, expecting as I was every moment to see that
of my husband, knowing how he was beloved by officers and soldiers.
The road was nearly choked which was to lead me to the completion, as
I hoped, of my life; to die on the body of the only thing I had on
earth to love, and which I loved with a faithfulness which few can
or ever did feel, and none ever exceeded. In my agony of woe, which
of course increased as my expectations were not realized (it was now
Tuesday), I approached the awful field of Sunday’s carnage, in mad
search of Enrique. I saw signs of newly dug graves, and then I imagined
to myself, “O God, he has been buried, and I shall never again behold
him!” How can I describe my suspense, the horror of my sensations,
my growing despair, the scene of carnage around me? From a distance
I saw a figure lying; I shrieked, “Oh, there he is!” I galloped on.
“No, it is not he! Find him I will, but whither shall I turn?” O ye in
peaceful homes, with every comfort around you, you wonder how I did
not sink under my afflictions, a foreigner in a strange land, thus at
once bereft of my all! I will tell you. Educated in a convent, I was
taught to appeal to God through Jesus Christ. In this my trouble I did
so. At this moment, as a guardian angel, a dear and mutual friend,
Charlie Gore, A.D.C. to Sir James Kempt, appeared to me. In my agony
and hope, hope alone of finding the body, I exclaimed, “Oh, where is
he? Where is my Enrique?” “Why, near Bavay by this time, as well as
ever he was in his life; not wounded even, nor either of his brothers.”
“Oh, dear Charlie Gore, why thus deceive me? The soldiers tell me
Brigade-Major Smith is killed. Oh, my Enrique!” “Dearest Juana, believe
me; it is poor Charles Smyth, Pack’s Brigade-Major. I swear to you, on
my honour, I left Harry riding Lochinvar in perfect health, but very
anxious about you.” “Oh, may I believe you, Charlie! my heart will
burst.” “Why should you doubt me?” “Then God has heard my prayer!”
This sudden transition from my depth of grief and maddening despair
was enough to turn my brain, but Almighty God sustained me. Gore told
me he had returned to Brussels to see poor Charlie Beckwith, who had
lost, or must lose, his leg; and that he was then in the act of looking
for the grave of our mutual friend, poor Charlie Eeles. Gore said, “I
am now going to Mons: can you muster strength to ride with me there?”
I said, “Strength? yes, for anything now!” and we reached Mons at
twelve o’clock at night. I had been on the same horse since three in
the morning, and had ridden a distance from point to point of sixty
miles; and after all the agony, despair, relief, and happiness I had
gone through in one day, I ate something, and lay down until daylight
next morning [21 June], when I rapidly pushed on to Bavay, on my really
wonderful thoroughbred mare.

I first met Sir John Lambert, who showed me where Enrique was to be
found. Until I saw him, I could not persuade myself he was well, such
a hold had my previous horror taken of my every thought and feeling.
Soon, O gracious God, I sank into his embrace, exhausted, fatigued,
happy, and grateful—oh, how grateful!—to God who had protected him, and
sustained my reason through such scenes of carnage, horror, dread, and
belief in my bereavement.

[_Narrative resumed._]

I was afterwards told all this, and I could not but reflect on what we
had all gone through since the morning we had parted with my father,
and how his prediction of a terrific struggle had been verified. Our
adventures formed the subject of a long letter, and from him came one
soon after.

“Never did I receive two letters with such pleasure as your two last
after the glorious Battle of Waterloo. For three of you, my sons, to
have been so hotly engaged, and to have come off unhurt, must not have
been chance or fate; but Providence seems to have watched over you all
and protected you. How grateful ought we all to be to the Almighty God!
I assure you my prayers have ever been offered up to the Throne of
Grace for the protection of you all, and a safe return to England.”

This letter is now on my table before me, fresh as when written,[77]
while the author, God bless him, has mixed with the earth to which
all must return. He lived to the age of 87, and died in Sept. 1843, a
strong and healthy man until within a few months of his dissolution. It
is difficult to say whether he was the more proud of having three sons
at Waterloo, or grateful to Almighty God for their preservation.

CHAPTER XXVI.

MARCH TO PARIS—HARRY SMITH QUARTERMASTER-GENERAL OF THE
RESERVE—HE BECOMES LIEUT.-COLONEL AND C.B.—THE 6TH DIVISION
MOVED FROM NEUILLY TO ST. GERMAIN—THE DUC DE BERRI AS A
SPORTSMAN—ON THE REDUCTION OF THE 6TH DIVISION HARRY SMITH
REJOINS HIS REGIMENT AS CAPTAIN—MARCH TO CAMBRAY—HE IS MADE
MAJOR DE PLACE OF THAT TOWN.

Our march to Paris was unaccompanied by anything to relate except that
I had a gallop round Mons and a good look on Malplaquet, but could
picture to myself no position, while I felt as a soldier standing on
the classic ground of the gallant achievements of my country and our
former army of heroes (for I regard Marlborough and Wellington as the
greatest men England or the world ever produced). But the latter days
of Wellington are as conspicuous for ability and energy as the days
of his youth. Poor Marlborough dwindled into imbecility, and became
a miser. To Wellington his country has ever been enthusiastically
grateful, while Marlborough, by ill-treatment, was driven into
voluntary banishment. Although I love Wellington with a fervour which
cannot be exceeded, I pray my God he may never outlive his mental
faculties, but leave this world and the country and cause he has so
eminently served while that world and country are still in admiration
and wonder. Alava, the Spanish General, so attached and devoted to
the Duke (by-the-bye, he was a Captain of a Spanish battleship or
frigate, I forget which), told me and Juana two years after the Battle
of Waterloo that the night after that eventful day, the Duke got back
to his quarters at Waterloo about nine or ten at night. The table was
laid for the usual number, while none appeared of the many of his staff
but Alava and Fremantle. The Duke said very little, ate hastily and
heartily, but every time the door opened he gave a searching look,
evidently in the hope of some of his valuable staff approaching. When
he had finished eating, he held up both hands in an imploring attitude
and said, “The hand of Almighty God has been upon me this day,” jumped
up, went to his couch, and was asleep in a moment. At this period he
was not aware of the extent of his wonderful victory.

When we approached the capital, we found the French army strongly
posted in a position near St. Denis and the previously shamefully
abandoned post of Mont Martre. From this position we expected to have
to drive them, but a day or two’s suspense relieved us. In a day or two
we went to see the _entrée_ of Louis into Paris—a humble spectacle
indeed compared to the magnitude of the struggle that brought it about.

Lieut.-General Sir Lowry Cole had now arrived to take the command
of the 6th Division, previously under Lambert. The 5th, 6th, and
Brunswickers composed the Reserve, about 17,000, Sir James Kempt, the
senior General, commanding; whose Quartermaster-General, Sir William
Gomm, gave all orders for marching, bivouac, etc. Now it became my
province to do so, and I never felt more proud than in having the
movement and arrangement of march of 17,000 soldiers.

Our army was in the environs of Paris, the 5th Division at Clichy,
the 6th at Neuilly, the Brunswickers near Clichy. The house I and my
wife occupied in the town of Neuilly we found was a sort of country
residence belonging to a nice old lady in Paris. There was a beautiful
and most productive garden, and an establishment of regular gardeners.
When I sent for the head man and desired him to take to his mistress
the vegetables he was accustomed to send her, and to obey her orders,
whatever they were, he was thunderstruck. I said, “If the garden is not
kept in real good order, then I will show you what an Englishman is.”
The poor old lady, hearing this, came out to thank us, and we often
dined with her in Paris. She lived in great style, and was of use to
my wife in showing her milliners, etc., for a refit _à la mode_ was
necessary.

Our life was now one of continued pleasure and excitement—nothing
but parties at night and races by day. At these I was steward. The
crowd of foreign officers being very unruly in riding in after the
race-horses, I put some proper fellows of soldiers at the distance-post
(who, having resisted many a charge of French cavalry, cared little for
an unarmed galloping man), with orders to run the rope across to stop
this disorder. My orders were obeyed, as I expected, and that gallant
hero, Marshal Blucher, not seeing the rope, rode his horse full speed
against it and fell, and in the crash the noble old fellow broke his
collar-bone, to my annoyance and distress.

While one day walking in my garden at Neuilly, my old friend Tom Fane,
who had come to Paris as one of the sight-seers, came full gallop up
to me and Juana, “Hurrah, Harry, the _Gazette_ has arrived! You are
Lieutenant-Colonel, and here is a case for you; it has some order in
it, I think. I found it at the Military Secretary’s office, and, being
to your address, brought it. Let me open it.” It was the Order of
Companion of the Bath, which pleased poor Tom more than it did me. Thus
again had I and Juana cause to be grateful to Almighty God, not only
for perfect safety, but for worldly distinction and promotion. It was
barely fourteen months since the Battle of Toulouse. I had crossed the
Atlantic to and from America four times; fought a gallant action, and
captured the metropolis of that world; brought home dispatches, and
received £500; was in communication with ministers, and honoured by a
long audience of His Royal Highness the Prince Regent; again went out;
again was under fire for three weeks, and in the sanguinary disaster at
New Orleans; was in the Battle of Waterloo, and had been promoted from
Captain to Lieut.-Colonel and Companion of the Bath; without a wound;
restored to my wife in health and contentment, and nothing to distress
or annoy me beyond the loss and wounds of so many gallant and dear
friends. Cold must that heart be which could not feel to its inmost
core God Almighty’s providence.

While in our cantonments around Paris we had frequent reviews with
Emperors, Kings, etc., as spectators, and nothing could exceed the
style and bearing of our army. The conduct, too, was exemplary. The
taking down of the horses from Venice, from the Place du Carrousel; the
execution of poor Ney, that hero of reality, not romance; the desire
of Blucher to destroy the bridge of Jena, which the Duke of Wellington
prevented; the escape of La Vallette, etc., kept us all in a state of
excitement, while the lions of Paris, then the _entrepôt_ of every
article of value in the arts, afforded daily occupation. Not a valuable
picture in Europe but was in the Place du Carrousel. It was my delight
to stand, often an hour at a time, looking at Paul Potter’s small
painting of the bull and the peasant behind the tree, and I have been
so fascinated I have expected the bull to charge.

[Illustration: LIEUT.-COLONEL HARRY SMITH.

_From a picture painted in Paris in 1815._ [_Opposite p. 294._]

In the autumn [1815] it became necessary to move the army into more
permanent quarters, and my Division, the 6th, was sent to St. Germain,
that magnificent and ancient resort of former kings. The woods were
in perfect order, and cut into beautiful _foci_ and avenues like radii
of circles, for hunting in the French style. The Duke de Berri had
hounds, and was passionately fond of the sport. The stag was turned
out, there were relays of hounds in couples, and huntsmen of various
denominations with large French horns, all in a _costume de chasse_,
with large cocked hats and a _couteau de chasse_ by their sides. The
carriages, full of ladies of the court and others, assembled in one
of the _foci_, or centres, from which the avenues radiated. When the
stag crossed into another part of the wood, the carriages galloped
to the “_focus_” of that part of the forest where the hunt was now
going on, and such a crash of horns as there was to denote that the
stag had changed his direction! The Duke went galloping up and down
the avenues, changing very frequently from one fat brute of a horse
to another. My wife and I, who went out every day and galloped after
the Duke, an ill-tempered fellow, up and down the avenues, were barely
able to keep our real good hunters warm. It was, however, capital fun,
although foreign to our ideas of hunting. I always fancied myself a
figure in a tapestry, hunting being a favourite subject for that kind
of delineation.

At the _mort_ (or death), or when the stag was at bay, there was always
a great row of horns and shouting, but _no dog-language_. On one
occasion the stag, a noble animal, was at bay, and fiercely contending
with the hounds. The Duke de Berri jumped off his horse and drew his
_couteau de chasse_, making great demonstration of going up to the
stag, while his courtiers were screeching, “Oh, monsieur, monsieur,
prenez garde, pour l’amour de Dieu.” He reminded me of the Irish hero,
“Hold me, Jim; you know my _temper_,” for the Duke had no real idea of
doing anything of the sort, although, when the poor noble animal had
been shot by some of the _piqueurs_, the Duke then ran in _valorously_
and dipped his _couteau_ in the beautiful animal’s chest. For this feat
a lot of us were determined to play the Duke a trick, and the next
hunting-day we contrived to break down the paling of the forest and
to induce the stag to bolt. We succeeded to our hearts’ content, and
away into the open went stag safe enough, the hounds in no wind after
him. The Duke and all his equipage were soon planted, and he was in a
furious passion. The _couteau de chasse_ was not required that day.

The most ridiculous thing is that they do not let the hounds “tear him
and eat him” while their blood is up. The stag is taken to the kennel
and skinned, and all the meat cut into small pieces and put again into
the hide, and the hounds then, in this cold-blooded way, rush at a
_mess_, instead of the whole pack, in a state of excitement, falling on
the hunted animal reeking with fatigue.

We were all amused one day at observing a man elegantly mounted on an
English horse in the full costume of the French _chasse_ (_couteau_,
etc.), when who should this be but our own dear Duke! He looked so neat
and smart, and we had such a laugh. He himself had a beautiful pack of
hounds and some boxed stags, which gave runs sometimes, but he was not
of the age for a sportsman.

About this time I and Will Havelock set on foot a pack of foxhounds.
We sent to England for hounds. The numbers of our pack being thirteen
couple, we sent to Brussels for [five couple more] from the Prince of
Orange’s establishment. This pack afterwards became a capital one.

On the conclusion of the treaty between the Allied Powers and
France, by which an Army of Occupation was designated to remain on
the northern boundary of France for three or five years, the large
armies (except their quota of the contingent) marched back to their
respective countries. Of the British Army four Divisions alone were to
remain. Mine was reduced, and being no longer on the staff, I joined
my regiment. Some of my old comrades said to Charlie Beckwith, who
had also joined, “Now, how will Harry Smith, after a career of such
extended authority, like to come back to the command of a Company?”
Charlie says (for he loved me), “In the execution of his duty and care
of his Company he will be an example to us all.”

My corps was moved again into the environs of Paris preparatory to
its march to the north. I was now visited by the deepest distress
and grief, for three days expecting the death of all I loved and
cherished—my dear wife. Nothing but vigour of mind and a good
constitution saved her. I had encountered many previous difficulties,
dangers, and disasters, but never aught like this. God in His continued
mercy spared her to me. Praised be His Name.

She was scarcely fit to move when we marched from Paris to Louvres [16
Jan. 1816] and an adjacent village. My Company went to Vernais. We were
again under Sir John Lambert, who had been moved from one Brigade to
another. My wife drove herself in my tilbury; I marched with my men. We
had a large cold château as a quarter, with a very civil landlord. I
had with me the hounds—eighteen couple. He put them up most kindly, and
appeared delighted—so much so that I had no delicacy in asking him to
get me a dead horse or to buy a dying brute for a few shillings. To my
astonishment, he regarded the request as a direct insult. It was all I
could do to make him understand I had no idea of offending. He was with
difficulty appeased, but I saw he never forgot the dead horse, any more
than the Antiquary’s nephew the “_phoca_ or seal.”

From hence we marched to Cambray, around which place and Valenciennes
the greater part of the army was to be cantoned. Three fortresses were
to be garrisoned by us. The Duke’s head-quarters were to be at Cambray.
One day Major Balvaird came to me. He was my commanding officer (I
being only a _Brevet_ Lieut. Colonel and _Captain_ under his command).
He was an excellent fellow, and as gallant a soldier as ever lived, a
bosom friend, and a Scotchman with a beautiful accent. “Weel, Harry,
mi mon, the deevil is in it. I have an order to send a Captain to the
depôt at Shorncliffe. You are the first for my duty, my lad. You canna
be more hurt at being ordered than I am to order you. So be prepared.
There is a just ane chance for you, but you must be prepared.” My
mortification was excessive, for with my habits, hounds, horses, and
wife, etc., the income I should get in England was not at all to my
desire. However, I said nothing to my wife, always hoping something
might turn up.

On the march one night my Company was in a wretched little village,
my quarters a miserable dirty little farmhouse. On any other occasion
I should have cared more than my wife herself, but she was still very
delicate, and I was awfully afraid of a relapse. It was February, and
the cold very severe. In watching her, I did not go to sleep until
just before it was time to jump up and march, when I had a curious
dream that the Duke of Wellington sent for me and said, “Smith, I have
two staff-appointments to give away, you shall have one,” and that as
I went out, poor Felton Hervey, the Military Secretary, said, “You
are a lucky fellow, Harry, for the one you are to have is the most
preferable by far.” I told my wife this dream, and said, “Mark my words
if it does not turn out to be true.”

On reaching our cantonment at Bourlon, a little beyond Cambray, I had
just put up my Company when General Lambert sent for me. “Smith,”
he says, “I am ordered to send a field officer to Cambray, who, in
conjunction with an officer of Engineers, is to take over Cambray, its
guns, stores, etc., from the French Commander and Engineers. It may
lead to something further. I therefore wish you to start at daylight;
the duty is important.” _His_ wish was _my_ law. Off I started. I had
scarcely completed the transfer when the General Orders were put into
my hand in which I saw I was appointed Major de Place, or Town-Major
of Cambray, and Charlie Beckwith Major de Place of Valenciennes,
each with the pay or allowance of Assistant Quartermaster-General,
to which department we were to report. Thus my dream was verified,
for, as Cambray was headquarters, and I had none of that horrid duty,
billeting on the inhabitants, which was attached to Valenciennes (the
headquarters A.Q.M.G. being desired to do it), I was given the better
place of the two, as Hervey said in my dream.

CHAPTER XXVII.

CAMBRAY, 1816-1818—SPORT AND GAIETY—THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON—HARRY
SMITH RECEIVES A VISIT FROM HIS FATHER.

Soon after our establishment at Cambray, I received a note from one
of His Grace’s Aides-de-Camp. “The Duke desires you will come to him
immediately, and bring with you the sheet of Cassini’s map of the
environs of Cambray.” Fortunately I had this map. I asked myself what
in the name of wonder the Duke could want. Off I cut. “Well, Smith, got
the map?” I opened it. “Now, where is my château?” “Here, my lord.”
“Ah, the coverts are very well shown here. Are there foxes in all
these?” “Yes, my lord, too many in every one.” “Well, then, hounds must
always know their own country”—he drew his finger as a line across the
map. “Now, your hounds hunt that side, mine this.”

On one occasion, when Lord Castlereagh was staying with His Grace, the
former wanted to see some coursing in France, and about 2 o’clock in
the afternoon the Duke sent for me to bring some greyhounds. We went
out, and were lucky in finding, and killed a brace. I never saw a man
in such spirits as the Duke. He rode like a whipper-in.

I once trained some greyhounds for the Duke, almost puppies, against
some of the same age which that noble fellow, Sir Edward Barnes had
bred. We were to meet near the Duke’s château, where there were plenty
of hares. We had great sport to beat Sir Edward every match. My wife
rode her “Brass” seventeen miles before we looked for a hare. The Duke
made her one of his umpires. She rode every course, and back again at
night.

Poor Felton Hervey was prejudiced against Spanish greyhounds, and he
and the present Duke of Richmond got out some English hounds to the
Peninsula to beat my celebrated “Moro,” which Harry Mellish, a gallant
hero alike as soldier and sportsman, declared the best dog he ever saw
in his life. Of course the English dogs had no chance.

While at Cambray I had two dogs, sons of the “Moro,” and we had a great
coursing party—the Duke of Wellington, Lord Hill (who had beautiful
English greyhounds), Sir Hussey Vivian, etc. We were near the Duke’s
château, where there were plenty of right good hares. Hervey objected
to my Spaniards running. We had been coursing all day and not a hare
was killed, so I rode up to the Duke and said, “My lord, this won’t
do. A hare must be killed to go to the château.” The Duke said, “Ah!
but how?” “My Spaniards should kill you a hare, my lord.” The sun was
almost down. Felton Hervey says, “Lord Hill’s ‘Laura’ and ‘Rattler’
shall get a hare. We will put them in slips; Smith shall call ‘Loo,’
and if they don’t kill their hare, then let the Moro blood try, and
I will halloo them out of their slips.” At it we went. A hare jumped
up under the nose of Lord Hill’s dogs. I hallooed. The hare hadn’t
twenty yards’ law. “Ah,” says the Duke, “you gave the hare no chance.”
“Plenty, my lord. They won’t kill her.” After a terrific course she
fairly beat them. Hervey was very angry. It was nearly dark, when hares
run like devils. My dogs, two brothers, were in the slips. So late in
the evening hares are sly. One jumped up sixty yards off, and Hervey
hallooed. The honesty of the field went with me, and all sung out,
“Shame, Hervey! your dogs were close to their hare.” “Never mind,”
I said. “My lord, you shall have the hare.” I was on that wonderful
horse Lochinvar, and never did I so ask him to go along. My dogs soon
closed with their hare, when I knew, if they once turned her with such
a law, she was ours. We had a terrific course, and killed her in a
bank, within three yards of a covert where she would have been safe. I
galloped back in triumph with my hare, for not a horse could live with
Lochinvar, and I threw the hare down at his Grace’s feet. Hervey was
furious, and insisted that I and Lochinvar acted third greyhound. I did
not, and I gained accordingly. The Duke laughed, and turned round to go
home, saying, “Thank you for the hare, Smith. We should have gone home
without one but for your Spanish greyhounds.”

Coming home from riding one afternoon, I overtook the Duke on the
bank of the canal, all alone. When I rode up I must either pass him,
or saddle myself on him as companion, neither of which etiquette or
delicacy tolerated. After my usual salutation, the Duke, with his
brilliant imagination in trifles as well as things of moment, said,
“If not in a hurry, ride home with me.” After a little talk about
hounds, greyhounds, etc., he said, “What! no dogs with you?” I said,
“On Sundays, my lord, I never take them out.” “Very proper,” he said,
“although I fear in our late struggle we respected Sunday but little.
All our great battles were fought on that holy day which ought to
be.” “Yes,” said I, “my lord, so was Trafalgar, and so was that dire
disaster, New Orleans.” “Was it?” he said. “You were there, were you
not?” “Indeed was I, my lord.” His Grace never mentioned dear Sir
Edward Pakenham, and of course I never did, although my heart was full
of him. “Tell me all about it.” I did so. “What! the troops stood and
fired in column, did they? What corps?” I named them. “Ah,” he said,
“they had not been accustomed to victory, but it was quite right to
keep two such corps as the 7th Fusiliers and the 43rd in reserve.” “We
ought not to have landed where we did, my lord.” “Certainly not,” he
said. “I was consulted about those lakes, and I immediately asked, ‘Is
there navigation there for purposes of trade?’ When I was answered
‘No,’ I said, ‘Then it is injudicious to use them to land an army, and
craft of any size will never get up to land the troops.’”

I had received and carried many orders from his Grace, but of course
never held a military conversation with him before. I was never
so struck as by the pointed questions he asked and the more rapid
questions my answers elicited. In half an hour’s ride he was perfectly
acquainted with all I could tell him, and said, “I am glad I have had
this conversation with you. It agrees as nearly as may be with the
opinion I had previously formed. If you are not engaged, you and Juana
come and dine with me to-day. Her friend Alava will be there.” I was
as proud as may be, because I knew by this his Grace was satisfied
with my explanation. How I longed to tell him how I loved and admired
his brother-in-law, Sir Edward Pakenham! But although I talked of
“the General,” I never made use of the magic word (to me at least)
“Pakenham.”

One night, at a great ball at the Duke’s, the Prince and Princess
Narinska were present, and a lot of Russian and Cossack officers. The
Princess was the only Russian lady, a very beautiful and accomplished
woman. The Duke wished that the mazurka should be danced in compliment
to her, but none of our ladies would stand up with the Princess. So the
Duke came up to my wife, and took her hand: “Come, Juana, now for the
Russian fandango; you will soon catch the step.” A young Russian came
forward as her partner. The Princess danced elegantly, and the Duke was
as anxious as I was that Juana should acquit herself well. She did, and
he was as pleased as possible.

The Duke was in great spirits in those days, and whenever he was
surrounded by Emperors and Kings he showed himself the great man that
he was. His attention to them was most marked, but we ever observed
that his Grace felt he was the representative of our King and country,
and we could see the majesty and still the delicacy with which he
conducted himself.

On one occasion the King of Prussia begged to see as many of the
British Army by themselves as could be collected, and the majority
were assembled not far from the pillar erected by the French in honour
of the victory of [Denain[78]], and which was equally in honour of
the Duke of Marlborough. (The French never gained a battle until
[Marlborough] was so madly taken away by the intrigues of the British
Government.) The King arrived much before his time, and our troops
were not formed to receive him. The Duke’s quick eye detected his
approach in the distance, and he says, “Hallo, Fremantle, there he is!
He will be upon us before we are ready, and we can’t keep him back
with picquets. Ride up and make him take a long détour until you see
we are ready, although a few minutes will suffice us.” Our troops were
in position like lightning, and it was beautiful to see the Duke so
animated, so cool, so proud of his Army and the rapidity with which we
all moved to act up to his wishes. He was altogether very popular with
his Army, but not so much so as after Toulouse. He felt that everything
that occurred at his headquarters must be a precedent for the guidance
of all the Armies he was in command of, and he was frequently rigid, as
it seemed, to extremes, particularly in all cases of disputes between
officers and the French inhabitants. At Cambray it was part of my duty
to receive all complaints, and, generally speaking, our own people were
the aggressors. When the French were, his Grace demanded that _their_
authorities should make an equal example. This correct principle of
action was as highly extolled by all thinking men as it deserved,
especially as the French had degraded themselves all over the world
(except in dear old England which we protected) by acts of cruelty,
oppression, and tyranny towards the inhabitants. The Duke said, “We are
Englishmen and pride ourselves on our deportment, and that pride shall
not be injured in my keeping.” On parting with his Army, he thanked
the British contingent after all the others. “He begs them to accept
his best acknowledgments for the example they have given to others by
their own good conduct, and for the support and assistance they have
invariably afforded him to maintain the discipline of the Army.” This I
thought at the time, and I do so more now, was the highest compliment
his Grace could pay us. We had saved Europe, and now we were thanked
for our conduct in quarters, when in occupation of the country of our
enemy, who had been the oppressors of the world; although, as good does
come out of evil, so has Europe been wonderfully improved owing to
the liberal principles moderately derived from the madness of French
democracy.

Our life in Cambray was one excess of gaiety. My dear old friend and
commander, Sir Andrew Barnard, had been appointed Commandant, so
that, surrounded by my old generals, friends, and comrades, I was
at home at once. We were both young; my wife was beautiful. We were
fêted and petted by every one. I was the huntsman of a magnificent
pack of hounds, steward of races, riding steeplechases, etc. My wife
was taken the greatest notice of by every one, especially by the
Duke, who, having known her as a child, always called her his Spanish
heroine, Juana. She rode beautifully hunting, was the best of waltzers,
and sang melodiously. We were surrounded by the best society. All
England’s nobility poured forth to see the lion of the day, the Dukes
headquarters. No wonder that in the midst of this gaiety and in this
land of plenty, after the life of hardship and privation which we had
led, we should have been somewhat intoxicated by the scene around us,
and I spent a lot of money which, had I saved it prudently, would
have now nearly accumulated to a fortune. I had prize-money for the
Peninsula, for Washington, and for Waterloo paid at this period. I had
money left me by my grandmother. All went as fast as I could get it.

In 1817, I and a friend went to look over the field of Waterloo. The
wood of Hougoumont had been cut down, which very much altered the
appearance of the ground, as did the want of troops, etc. To those
unaccustomed to look at ground with and without troops, the difference
cannot well be explained. I trod, however, upon this immortal field
with a thrilling sensation of gratitude to Almighty God, first for
personal safety and for the additional honour and glory my country’s
Army had acquired there, and next for the beneficial results to Europe
ensured by the achievement of that wonderful battle. The left of the
position as well as the centre was as during the battle, with the
exception of the many tombs and monuments erected to mark the spots
where lay interred so many gallant spirits, and many is the burning
tear I shed over the mounds of some of my dearest friends, many of
England’s brightest sons and rising soldiers. No one can feel what a
soldier does on such a spot, especially one who was in the midst of
the strife. But nothing struck me so forcibly as the small extent of
the field. It appeared impossible that so many thousands of troops
could have contended on so constricted a space, the one spot on earth
which decided the fate of Emperors and Kings, and the future destiny of
nations.

Every year we had a grand review of the whole Army of the
contingencies. One year the Duke of Kent was the Review-Marshal. The
last year of occupation, viz. the third, we had an immense sham-fight,
which ended on the heights of Fimare, where the Army passed in review
[23 Oct.] the Emperor of Russia, King of Prussia, the Grand Duke
Constantine, the Grand Duke Michael, etc. In the course of the day
the Duke, riding with their Majesties, saw Juana. He called her up
and presented her to the Emperor of Russia, “Voilà, Sire, ma petite
guerrière espagnole qui a fait la guerre avec son mari comme la héroine
de Saragosse.” The Emperor shook her hands, and asked her to ride for
some time with him as she spoke French fluently, when he put a variety
of questions to her about the war in Spain, all of which she could
answer as intelligently as most officers. At night she danced with the
Grand Duke Michael, an excellent waltzer. When the Emperor’s courtiers
observed the attention paid by the Emperor to my wife, they sought out
the husband. I was in my Rifle uniform. One fellow said, “Are you aware
to whom Madame has had the honour to be presented?” “To be sure,” I
said, saucily, “and by _whom_—the greatest man in the world.”

That night, riding into Valenciennes on the _pavé_, both sides of the
road being covered with troops marching to their cantonments, it was
very cold, and I was clapping my hands on my shoulders, _à l’anglaise_,
when my wife says, “You have lost your Star of the Bath.” I had felt
something catch in the lace of my sleeve, so I turned back. A column
of Russian Cuirassiers were marching over the ground I had traversed,
and the sides of the road being excessively dusty, I said to myself,
“What nonsense! I can never find it,” and was in the act of turning
back to my wife, when a flat-footed dickey dragoon horse, having set
his hollow foot upon it, tossed it under my horse’s nose out of the
dust upon the _pavé_. It is a most ridiculous occurrence to record, but
my astonishment at the time was excessive. The star was bruised by the
horse’s foot, in which shape I wore it twenty-nine years.

The period of occupation was now reduced to three years, and the
Army was prepared to withdraw—to _our_ mortification, for we should
have been delighted with two years more. It was now, on winding up
my private accounts which had been miserably neglected, I discovered
my money was far exceeded by my debts. I therefore, as one of my
auxiliaries, put up to raffle, for 250 napoleons, a celebrated
thoroughbred horse, the Young Lochinvar, by Grouse, out of Dab Chick,
Vandyke’s dam. This horse I had bought for a large sum in my native
town, just before the Battle of Waterloo, from a gentleman who had
bought him at Newmarket for an immense price and whose circumstances
compelled him to become a bankrupt. My father was aware of his pending
situation, and just on the eve of it bought Lochinvar. I had ridden him
hunting three years; he was the only horse in the Army that was never
planted in the deep fields of France. As a horse he was as celebrated
as His Grace was as a General, 16 hands high and equal to 14 stone,
It went to my heart to part with him. My wife said, “Oh, I will have
a ticket.” “Oh, nonsense, it is only throwing five napoleons away.”
However, she had her own way, as wives always have (especially Spanish
wives), and, by another piece of my continued good luck, her ticket won
the horse, and I had Lochinvar in my stable, while the 245 napoleons
readily found claimants. It was a piece of fortune I was very grateful
for. I loved the horse, and he carried me in that stiff county of Kent
afterwards, as he had ever done elsewhere.

From the day on which I presented my billet to my landlord in Cambray,
I was much struck with his manly bearing and open conduct. He was a
man of a large family, a Monsieur Watin, and his brother, also with a
family, resided with him. He showed me all his house and his stables
(he had built a kitchen and servants’ rooms for any one who should
be quartered on him). He said, “In this life, happiness is not to be
attained, but it must not be impeded. I am aware of the way French
officers behave in quarters. I hear you English are less _exigeant_.
This part of the house I reserve for myself and my brother, the rest
I give to you.” And I certainly had the best, for he only reserved
to himself one sitting-room. I said, “I have more than enough.” “No,
no,” he said, “when you give a soirée you shall have this too.” I
was three years in his house, and I never had a word with either him
or any member of his family. On the contrary, nothing could be more
amicable. In the course of the second year my father came and paid me
a visit for near three months. Never was man more happy and delighted.
He was fond of field sports and of flowers. The Bishop of Cambray had
a magnificent garden, and many an hour did my father spend there. When
he arrived, of course I begged him to tell us what he liked best at
table. “Oh, anything,” he says, “only take care your French cook does
not make the pastry with oil, which I know they do, but with butter.” I
had an excellent cook, and I told him to be careful about his pastry,
which was, of course, made with oil. Every day my father praised the
pastry. After some weeks I let him into the secret. “Ah,” says he,
“such through life is prejudice.” He was far from disliking French
wines. The day he left us—“Well it is very true that you and the poor
man of the house live very friendly, but you have the whole nearly. I
shall go home now and pay my taxes with delight. Even were they double,
readily would I pay rather than have such a fellow as you and your
establishment quartered on me!” Poor dear father! I had been your pet
son. Everything I practised that was manly, you taught me, and to my
equestrian powers and activity, which first brought me into notice, did
I owe my rapid rise in the service.

[Illustration: JOHN SMITH.

(Sir Harry Smith’s father.)

_From a picture painted by J. P. Hunter, Somersham, Hunts, May, 1837._

[_Opposite p. 314._]

The day having at length arrived when we were to leave Cambray,
[27 Oct.?] Sir Andrew Barnard and I were asked to at least twenty
breakfasts. My first was with the family on whom we were billeted, and
if they had been our nearest relations no greater feeling could have
been evinced. Monsieur Watin was a great carpenter. To him I gave a
capital chest of tools, to his brother, who was a sportsman (in his
way), I gave one of Manton’s double-barrelled guns, and my wife made
many presents to the female part of the family. Then came my nineteen
breakfasts with Barnard. We positively sat down a few minutes with all
our hosts and ate something; both of us laughing and saying, “We have
been together in situations when the sight of such breakfasts would
have been far from objectionable, but ‘enough is as good as a feast.’”
I never was so tired of the sight of food. I felt as though I never
could feel the sensation of hunger again. All this attention, however,
was very gratifying, and upon parting with our worthy family, as our
carriage drove through the streets, there was nothing but waving of
handkerchiefs and adieus. The garrison had marched two days before. The
most complimentary letter I ever read was addressed to the Commandant
Barnard by the Mayor, a Monsieur Bethune, a Bonapartist too, to the
purport that, although every Frenchman must rejoice at the cessation
of the foreign occupation of his country, as individuals he and all
the city would and must ever remember the English with gratitude for
their generosity and liberality, and for the impartial justice ever
shown by Barnard during his three years’ Commandantship. In a French
fortress the Commandant has far more authority than the Prime Minister
in England. Thus we parted from Cambray, where we had had three years’
gaiety amidst the wealth and aristocracy of England, in the country of
an enemy that had contended and struggled to subdue our own in a most
sanguinary war by sea and land, lasting with but little intermission
from 1798 to 1815. The garrison of Cambray was composed of a Brigade
of Guards,—the 1st Battalion Grenadiers under Colonel the Hon. William
Stewart, and the Coldstreams under Colonel Woodford. I never before or
since served with such correct soldiers, and they had the very best
non-commissioned officers. There were peculiarities in the mode in
which the officers performed their duties, but, according to their own
rules, it was a lesson of rectitude, zeal, honour, and manliness. I
quite agree with Johnny Kincaid that the officers in our Army who come
from our aristocracy are ever most zealous as officers, and certainly
most agreeable as companions, and I have now served with most corps of
the Army, Hussars, Guards, Infantry, etc.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

RETURN TO ENGLAND (1818)—HARRY SMITH REJOINS HIS
REGIMENT—SHORNCLIFFE—GOSPORT—DISCHARGE OF THE PENINSULAR
VETERANS.

On reaching Calais I could not avoid calling to memory the British
possession of that celebrated fortress, for so many years the bone of
contention and strife. All was bustle and embarcation. We embarked in
a small vessel [31 Oct.?], and the wind obliged us to go to Ramsgate.
The London Custom House had provided for baggage to be examined at
Ramsgate as well as at Dover, and nothing could be more liberal and
gentlemanlike than the Custom House officers (of course acting under
instructions). My wife had an immense box of French dresses which,
being all extended on account of the large flounces then worn, required
great room. While I was passing my baggage, one of the officers said,
“And that large box—what does it contain?” I said, “My wife’s dresses.”
“I have not the least doubt of it, sir, as you say so, sir; but I
declare I never saw such a box of ladies’ dresses in my life before.”
Then came her guitar. “What is this?” “Oh, hand it along, it’s naught
but a fiddle.”

The celebrated Cavalry officer, Sir John Elley, a very tall, bony,
and manly figure of a man, with grim-visaged war depicted in his
countenance, with whiskers, moustaches, etc. like a French Pioneer,
came over to Dover during the time of our occupation of France. He
was walking on the path, with his celebrated sword belted under his
_surtout_. As the hooking up of the sword gave the coat-flap the
appearance of having something large concealed under it, a lower order
of Custom officer ran after him, rudely calling, “I say, you officer,
you! stop, stop, I say! What’s that under your coat?” Sir John turned
round, and drawing his weapon of defence in many a bloody fight, to the
astonishment of the John Bulls, roared out through his moustache in a
voice of thunder, “That which I will run through your d——d guts, if you
are impertinent to me!”

My Regiment was at Shorncliffe, and thither I and my wife proceeded,
parting with many friends of the Guards, some of whom she has never
seen since. I was given an entirely new Company, that is, one composed
of recruits. I interceded with Colonel Norcott, however, to give me a
few of my dear old comrades into each squad, and with their help and
example I soon inspired the rest with the feelings of soldiers. There
was a pack of hounds too in the neighbourhood, and though it is a
stiff, bad country, fox-hunting is fox-hunting in any shape, and I had
two noble hunters, Lochinvar and a celebrated mare, besides the “Brass
Mare” for my wife. My whole income at the moment was my pay, 12_s._
6_d._ a day. One day, after a capital run with the hounds, Mr. Deedes
asked me to dine with him, and I had a post-chaise to go in to dinner,
which cost me 17_s._ Thus—

“How happy’s the soldier who lives on his pay,
And spends half-a-crown out of sixpence a day!”

My Battalion was ordered to Gosport, and soon after at Shorncliffe,
which had been the depôt of the Regiment during the whole war, not
a Rifleman was left. I marched [about Dec. 24-28] in command of the
Headquarters Division, all our old soldiers. Neither they nor I could
help remarking the country as a difficult one to make war in. You would
hear the men, “I say, Bill, look at that wood on the hill there and
those hedgerows before it. I think we could keep that ourselves against
half Soult’s Army. Ah, I had rather keep it than attack it! But, Lord,
the war’s all over now.”

When I first joined at Shorncliffe we heard of nothing but “the French
are coming over.” We have been in among _them_, I take it, since. They
never could have got to London through such a stiff country. We would
have destroyed the roads and cut down the trees to make those d——d
things they used to do—_abattis_[79]; besides, where would be the use
of all their capering cavalry, etc.?

During this march, when the men were billeted in the inns and scattered
over the country, I could not divest myself of the feeling of
insecurity I had acquired after so many years’ precautionary habits;
and although I repeated to myself a hundred times daily, “You are
in England,” the thought would arise, “You are in the power of your
enemy.” Before dismissing the men, I always told them the hour I should
march in the morning, and men who were billeted either ahead or on the
sides of the road were to join their Companies as I arrived. During
the whole march I never had a man absent or irregular. Such a band of
practised and educated soldiers may never again traverse England.

My wife posted from Shorncliffe into Sussex—to Beauport, Sir John
Lambert’s temporary seat, where the kind family insisted on her staying
until I came to fetch her to Gosport, which I did soon after. On
arrival at Gosport we were led to believe we should be a year or two
there, and we began to (what is called) make ourselves comfortable.

We had a great number of guards and sentries literally over nothing.
One night, however, on visiting the different guards and counting
them, I found every man present. I asked, “What! no man on sentry?”
“Oh no, sir; the 86th, whom we relieved, say they always bring in all
sentries at night.” “Why, this is a new way—new to us.” “Certainly,”
the sergeants said.

The following day I and two or three officers went to inspect every
sentry’s post. We found some with orders “to see that no one took that
gun away” (a 32-pounder dismounted), one “to see as them goats did not
leave the rampart.” He was one of our soldiers, and I said, “Confound
you, did you take such an order from a storekeeper?” He said, “Why, I
hardly look on it as a _horder_, only civil-like of me; and you know,
sir, goats were worth looking after at Dough Boy Hill” (near Almaraz,
so called from our having nothing to eat for three weeks but dough and
goats’ flesh, and very little of either).[80] I represented all this to
Lord Howard of Effingham, who very readily entertained the report, and
sentries were all taken off, where not required. Colonel Norcott soon
after joined.

While we were here 300 of our oldest and best soldiers were discharged.
Every one came to say farewell to my wife; and there was a touching
parting between officers and soldiers, now about to be dispersed
through Great Britain, after so many years’ association under such
eventful circumstances. There was not one who could not relate some act
of mutual kindness and reciprocity of feeling in connexion with the
many memorable events in which they had taken part. I and many of the
officers marched several miles on the road with these noble fellows.
In the Barrack Square they had prayed me to give them the word of
command to march off. “Sure,” says an Irishman, “it’s the last after
the thousand your honour has given us.” I did so; but when the moment
arrived to part every man’s tears were chasing each other down his
bronzed and veteran cheeks. They grasped their officers’ hands,—“God
bless your honour!” then such a shout and cheer. Such feelings in times
of peace are not, cannot be acquired. My faithful old West was of
the party; but he parted from me and his mistress in our house. Poor
faithful, noble fellow, as gallant as a lion, he had been with me from
Vimiera and Coruña until 1819.

The 18th June, the first anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo which
we had spent in England, was such a day throughout the Regiment,
with dinners for the soldiers, non-commissioned officers, wives and
children. Among the officers there was such a jubilee of mirth, mingled
with grief for our lost comrades, as must be conceived, for never was
there a Regiment in which harmony and unanimity were more perfect.

In the autumn the manufacturing districts, Glasgow, Manchester,
Birmingham, etc., became much disturbed, and our soldiers, who
invariably know everything first, insisted on it we should go to
Glasgow. My Company was out at target practice with others, when we
heard the assembly sound. “Hurrah for Glasgow!” said the men. We
all marched home, and found we were to embark on board a man-of-war
immediately. By four o’clock that afternoon [18 Sept.] we were all
on board the _Liffey_. Sir James Kempt had succeeded Lord Howard of
Effingham in the command at Portsmouth, and proud he was to see one of
his old Battalions in peace the same ready soldiers they were in war.
My wife remained behind to go in the _Spartan_ frigate, which had been
recently fitted up for the Duchess of Kent. The Captain put her up
superbly, and she reached Leith Roads in time to join my Company on the
march.[81]

CHAPTER XXIX.

GLASGOW (1819-1825)—RADICAL DISTURBANCES—HARRY SMITH ONCE MORE
ON THE STAFF AS MAJOR OF BRIGADE—GEORGE IV.’s VISIT TO
EDINBURGH—HARRY SMITH REVISITS PARIS—HE REJOINS HIS REGIMENT
IN IRELAND.

Glasgow at this season of the year, October, is a most melancholy,
dirty, smoky city, particularly the end in which the barracks are
placed; and such was the state of the city, my wife had to live in
barracks and we were again shut up in one room, as during the war.
When matters approached the worst, I sent my wife to Edinburgh, where
she received every kindness and hospitality. There was living there
then Mrs. Beckwith, who had campaigned with her husband in Prince
Ferdinand of Brunswick’s time. She was then ninety-four, and lived
afterwards to upwards of a hundred, the mother of Sir George Beckwith,
my dear Sir Sydney, and several other sons. She was in full possession
of her intellect, and was delighted to talk of war with my wife.
The latter said one day, “I am afraid I do not speak English well
enough to explain myself.” “Not speak well enough! Why?” “Because I
am a Spaniard, and have only recently learned to speak English.” “A
Spaniard? Stand up, and let me look at your feet and ankles, for I have
always heard your countrywomen celebrated for their neatness.” My wife
was still in heart a Spaniard, and as particular as ever in shoes and
stockings, and the poor old lady was delighted. After talking for a
certain time, she used to say, “Now go; I am tired.”

Our duty in Glasgow was very laborious and irksome. We had neither
enemy nor friends: a sort of _Bellum in Pace_, which we old campaigners
did not understand. But, although constantly insulted by the mob in the
streets, either individually or in a body, our deportment was so mild
that we soon gained rather the respect than otherwise of the misguided
and half-starved weavers. They had many old soldiers amongst them, and
had organized themselves into sixteen Battalions. Many of these old
soldiers I knew; one was a Rifleman—an old comrade who had lost his arm
at New Orleans—and from him I ascertained their perfect organization.
They had a General, or Central, Committee of Delegates (“a House of
Lords”), and each district had a committee, who sent a delegate to the
Central Committee. The regiments were formed by streets, so that in
case of a turn-out they could parade—“Ah, just as we did in the towns
of Spain and France,”[82] my comrade said.

One day my Company was sent out with twenty of the 7th Hussars, just
before daylight, to arrest a party of delegates. We had magistrates,
etc. with us, and succeeded in arresting every man. I saw a violent
storm of mob assembling. I put the prisoners in the centre of my
Company, under the command of my subaltern, Henry Havelock,[83] now a
hero of Burma, Afghanistan, and Maharajpore celebrity, a clever, sharp
fellow, and said, “Move you on collected to the barracks, and I will
cover you with the Hussars.” On my word, they were violent, and the
Hussars, with the flat of their swords, as I particularly directed, did
make the heads of some ache, while brickbats, stones, etc. were flying
among us half as bad as grapeshot. The magistrates were horridly timid
and frightened lest I should order the troops to fire. I said, “You
command,” which in those days they did, nor could the officer fire,
according to law, without their order.

The Commander-in-Chief in Scotland, Major-General Sir T. Bradford, was
then in Glasgow, and also Sir W. Rae, the Lord-Advocate. Officers who
had been on duty were to report direct to the Commander-in-Chief. This
I did, and hardly was my report received, when I was sent for to the
Inn where these authorities were. Sir Thomas, ever a kind friend to me,
met me at the door of the room where they were, and said, “Smith, the
Lord-Advocate is most annoyed that you permitted His Majesty’s troops
to be insulted this morning with impunity, and desires to speak with
you.” Sir W. Rae, although afterwards I found him a capital fellow, was
dictatorial in his manner, and violent and pompous in his address. He
sat when I advanced towards him. I saw by his eye what was coming, and
my blood was as hot as his; and the thought rushed into my mind, “What!
to be rowed by this man, who have ever been approved of by _the Duke_!”

“Pray, sir, are you the officer who allowed His Majesty’s troops
to be insulted in such a manner, with arms in their hands? _I am
surprised, sir._ Why did you thus tamely act?” So I replied, quite
as dictatorially as my lord, “Because, my lord, I was acting under
the officers of the law, the magistrates, of whom you are the
Commander-in-Chief. They would not act, and I did not desire to bring
upon my head either the blood of my foolish and misguided countrymen,
or the odium of the Manchester magistrates.” (An affair of Yeomanry[84]
had lately occurred.) “I brought off every prisoner; but, my lord,
since that is your feeling, give me a written order to march through
Glasgow with the same party of soldiers and my prisoners. A mob will
soon attempt the rescue, and d—— me, my lord, but I will shoot all
Glasgow to please you.” I saw Sir Thomas Bradford biting his lips, and
looking at me as much as to say, “Gently, Smith.” I turned on my heel,
and said, “Good morning, my lord.”

From that day the Lord-Advocate took a great fancy to me, and gave me
some of the most laborious night-marches I ever made, especially one to
Galston New Mills and Kilmarnock. It was so dark (and an _ignis fatuus_
dancing before us to make it worse), I had a 6-pounder upset over a
bridge. Throughout my previous services I never had more arduous duties
than on this occasion.

A Battalion of Volunteer Riflemen were organized here,[85] all
young gentlemen, under the superintendence of my old Regiment, now
called the Rifle Brigade.[86] This corps more nearly deserved the
comprehensive appellation “soldiers” than any corps ever did, except
those of the line. Their Colonel, Sam Hunter, walked twenty-two
stone, an enormous man, with a capacity of mind fully proportioned
to his corporeal stature. Many are the arduous duties I exacted of
these Volunteers, and they were executed with cheerfulness and prompt
obedience.

Sir Hussey Vivian came down to command, bringing with him as his
Major-of-Brigade, my friend, (now Sir) De Lacy Evans. Evans did not
wish to serve, but to study in London to prepare himself to be a
senator, and he kindly went to the Horse Guards and said, “If my
appointment is filled up by Harry Smith of the Rifles, I will resign.”
This arrangement was readily assented to, and I was again on the Staff,
where I remained until 1825.

I had occasionally the most disagreeable duty, and always a difficulty
to resist the importunity of the kindest hospitality that ever I and
my wife received in this world. Immediately after I was appointed
Major-of-Brigade, Major-General (now Sir T.) Reynell was appointed to
command the district of Glasgow and the West of Scotland in place of
Sir Hussey Vivian. In a year, as affairs in Glasgow assumed a more
tranquil appearance, Queen Caroline’s trial being finished and Her
Majesty’s death having occurred, Major-General Reynell was removed from
the Staff of Glasgow, and went out in the _Glasgow_ frigate to the East
Indies to a command in Bengal, but I, the Major-of-Brigade, was kept
on. My orders were to report direct to the Commander-in-Chief, Sir
T. Bradford, in Edinburgh, and to receive no orders from any one but
himself; and I could give any orders in his name which the exigencies
of the moment required. Of course I was very cautious, fully aware
of the delicacy of my position as regarded my senior officers, some
of whom were very jealous of the authority vested in me, although
personally I had never had a controversial word with them.

A great part of my duty in the summer was to inspect the various Corps
of Yeomanry throughout the Western District, a most delightful duty.
I was treated _en prince_ by the Duke of Montrose, Lord Glasgow, Lord
Douglas, Lord-Lieutenants of counties, Lord Blantyre, etc. The officers
of the Corps of Yeomanry, too, all belonged to the aristocracy of the
country, and their houses were open as their hospitable hearts.

In 1820 I had with me Sir John Hope’s and Lord Elcho’s Troops of the
Edinburgh Light Horse, consisting entirely of gentlemen of the highest
class in Scotland, and we were employed upon some very arduous duty
together. I have seen these gentlemen after a long, heavy, and wet
night’s march, every one dressing his own horse, feeding him, etc.,
like a German Hussar, ere they thought of anything for themselves. One
of the Troop, Corporal Menzies, is now a Judge at the Cape, my most
intimate friend, and many is the laugh we have had at his military
experiences.

When we see the gentlemen of the country thus devoted to it, we need
have little fear of its continued prosperity. In my opinion there is no
system which can be adopted of such importance to our country as the
yearly calling-out of the Yeomanry for a few days’ exercise. It brings
the educated aristocracy in contact with the less favoured in life, the
cultivators of the soil,—landlords with tenants. It shows the latter in
their true character—honest, manly, and liberal fellows, and teaches
them to look up to their superiors, while it also shows the former what
a noble set of men their tenants are, obedient, but as proud as an
English yeoman ought to be, and that, thus engaged in the defence of
our country and in the maintenance of our rights as British subjects,
they are to be treated with the respect due to every individual of the
social compact.

When His Majesty George IV. paid a visit to Edinburgh [15-27 Aug.
1822], I was ordered thither, and sent to Dalkeith (where His Majesty
was to reside in the palace of the Duke of Buccleugh) to superintend
the guards and escorts, etc., for his Majesty’s state (his _protection_
was in the safe custody of the hearts of his loyal people); and when
Sir Walter Scott and the Commander-in-Chief, Sir Thomas Bradford, had
planned all the various processions, the organization and conduct of
them was given to me, and His Majesty was kind enough to say they were
conducted to his royal satisfaction. He never once was delayed in the
streets by a check, thanks to the lesson I learnt in the Light Division
how to regulate the march of a column.

Early every day I went, as I was ordered, to the palace to receive
orders through the Gold Stick. The morning His Majesty was to leave
Dalkeith, he sent for me to express his approbation of all I had done,
and as I left the apartment Sir William Knighton followed me, and
asked me, by the king’s command, if there was anything I desired. I
was so young a Lieutenant-Colonel, only of eight years’ standing, with
hundreds senior to me, that I neither desired to ask such an exorbitant
thing as to be Aide-de-Camp to His Majesty, nor felt any inclination,
on account of such pacific services, to be exalted above so many of my
more meritorious comrades. Knighthood I would not accept, so I very
quietly said, “I will ask a great favour of His Majesty—to give Sir
Thomas Bradford’s Aide-de-Camp the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel.” Sir
William said, “If the Commander-in-Chief will write me a note, it shall
be done,” and thus as good a fellow as ever lived got his rank. There
is much honour attached to the charge of royalty, and as many of my
old comrades were about the king, Barnard, Vivian, etc., I spent a most
agreeable time, but the expense for myself and my wife was enormous. It
cost me upwards of a year’s income in new uniforms, court dresses, etc.
His Majesty particularly admired my wife’s riding.

Never was the old adage of “like master, like man” more exemplified
than in the royal household. In the organization of the processions,
etc. I was frequently engaged with the servants, coachmen, footmen,
etc. I never saw such obedient, willing, and respectful fellows in my
life; and I never had to express more than a wish, to have any order
implicitly, readily, and agreeably obeyed. Accustomed to the obedience
of soldiers, I was particularly struck with equally obedient deportment
on the part of those whom imagination had led me to believe to be a set
of troublesome fellows. George IV. was a gentleman, and from His Noble
Majesty was derived a “_ton_” which spread throughout his court and his
household, an example and honour to the great nation he ruled.

In 1824 my gallant friend, Macdougall, requested me to accompany him to
Paris to arrange a little matter of delicacy with a gentleman who had
ill-used a lady, a great friend of Mac’s family. We soon arranged that
matter, the gentleman being one in fact, as well as in name, and acting
as well as any could under the circumstances. Ten years had now elapsed
since my first acquaintance with the south of France, and six since I
had quitted Cambray. We landed at Boulogne, and had a long journey to
Paris by _diligence_, that renowned and cumbrous and slow machine now
replaced by the flying steam-coaches. Our _diligence_ adventures were
numerous but not unusual. But my new visit to France, and entry into
Paris, forcibly brought to mind the immense Armies assembled around us
in 1815,—the streets filled with uniforms of every civilized nation,
the public resorts ornamented with the spoil of every nation in Europe
except Great Britain!

Paris was now a quiet city, much like any other, and the only thing
which attracted my attention was the number of drunken soldiers in the
streets. In London such a thing is of rare occurrence indeed. But it
appeared to me that the French Army had acquired some of those habits
of the English which we would willingly resign to them in perpetuity. I
visited my old quarters at Neuilly. My good old landlady was no more.
Imagination aroused a variety of feelings closely cemented with the
past, while the present showed Paris aiming at English habits, just as
London was rapidly acquiring French manners. In the streets of Paris
we saw young dandies driving tilburys in the last style, with grooms
in brown top-boots. To speak English was becoming fashionable, whereas
formerly any Frenchman attempting to speak English was regarded as a
Bourbonist, or an enemy to the blood-acquired liberties of his country.
We left France now certainly flourishing, and speedily returned to
our own land of fair and handsome faces, well-fed inhabitants, richly
cultivated and enclosed fields. And oh, my countrymen, had you seen as
many countries as I now have, and been banished so many years from your
own, then would you bless that land of happiness and liberty which gave
you birth, that land which was exempt from the horror of war through
the ability of your statesmen, the blood of your sailors and soldiers,
and the patriotism of the people!

During my residence in Glasgow, I twice went over to the Isle of Man,
in expectation of succeeding to the Government of the House of Keys.
The Governor was very ill, and desirous to retire. He got well, and
forgot his former inclinations.

In 1825, such was the tranquillity in this immense manufacturing
district, I was put off the Staff, and received from the Lord-Provost,
Town Councillors, and Municipality every demonstration of their
gratitude for the efficient aid I had afforded them to maintain
tranquillity and subdue riots, mobs, and popular ebullitions.[87] My
answer was, that the only merit I claimed was that in the service
of my country and in the execution of this duty on very trying and
most irritating occasions for five years, not a drop of my deluded
countrymen’s blood had been shed, though it was often indeed difficult
in the extreme to avoid it.

The parting of myself and wife from our numerous and most hospitable
and kind friends in Glasgow, and the whole of the West of Scotland, is
not to be described. My principal quarters I may say were Elderslie
House,[88] where the most amiable and numerous family were ever to us
a source of happiness, Harhead, Lord Glasgow’s, and Cumbernauld House,
Admiral Fleming’s, whose wife was a county-woman of mine; but to name
these houses in particular is hardly fair, for throughout the country
we received equal hospitality. Certainly the happiest five years of my
life were spent in Scotland, amidst the society of such people. Books
were to be had of every description, intellectual conversation was ever
enjoyed, and amidst the learned professors of the colleges I have spent
some of the most agreeable evenings.

I was to join my Corps in Belfast, and as we went down the Clyde in the
steamer, the inmates of every seat on its banks were assembled to wave
us, alas! a _last_ farewell, for many of those dear and valued friends
are now in the silent grave. Glasgow, with all your smoke, your riots,
mobs, and disaffections, I look back to you with perfect happiness,
and I love the Scotch nation with a similar degree of patriotism to
that with which I have fought for my native land, the words of my dear
mother ever ringing in my ears, “Remember, if ever you fight for your
country, you were born an Englishman.”

Belfast, although then a flourishing city, showed a great contrast
to Glasgow in regard to the appearance of its population, although
the gentlemen were as hospitable as possible, and most enthusiastic
sportsmen, and, as I could ride a bit, I was soon at home among them.
I was soon, however, ordered to Downpatrick, where my Company and two
others were quartered. I was received by my dear old Regiment with
every demonstration of affection, and spent a few months most happily
at this little town of Downpatrick, among very amiable and kind
people. The peasantry there were my delight, such light-hearted, kind
creatures I never saw, and as liberal as primitive Christians. Not a
day I had not sent me presents of eggs and butter, etc. It was painful
occasionally to accept them, but as I saw that refusal created pain, I
had no alternative. There were many of our old Light Division soldiers
discharged and living in this neighbourhood, and every market day
(Saturday) a re-enacting of old times was imposed on my patience. One,
a noble soldier of the 43rd, celebrated every anniversary of a battle
by getting gloriously drunk. On one occasion he was drunk without this
exciting cause. I said, “Come, come, Murphy, this is too bad; to-day is
no anniversary.” “Maybe not, your honour, but, by Jasus, there are so
many it is hard to remember them all, and the life’s blood of me would
dry up, if I missed the ‘cilibration’ of one of ’em—so it’s safest to
get drunk when you can.”

CHAPTER XXX.

1825-1828: HARRY SMITH ACCOMPANIES HIS REGIMENT TO NOVA
SCOTIA—SIR JAMES KEMPT—HARRY SMITH PARTS WITH HIS OLD
REGIMENT ON BEING APPOINTED DEPUTY QUARTERMASTER-GENERAL
IN JAMAICA—HE HAS TO DEAL WITH AN EPIDEMIC OF YELLOW FEVER
AMONG THE TROOPS—APPOINTED DEPUTY QUARTERMASTER-GENERAL AT
THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.

Shortly after this, my Corps was ordered to embark at Belfast [30
July] for Nova Scotia on board three transports, the _Arab_, the
[_Speke_[89]], and the _Joseph Green_. I had the command of two
Companies and a half in the last ship. When we arrived on board, with
the quantity of baggage, etc., the ship was in a wild-looking state.
The Captain and the agent came to me and said, “We are ordered to go
to sea to-morrow, but this is impossible from the state of the ship;
it is of no consequence, if you would give us a certificate to this
effect; the day after to-morrow will do quite as well.” “The devil it
will,” says I, “when you are ordered. Have you everything belonging
to the ship’s stores on board?” “Everything.” Johnny Kincaid was my
subaltern, so I said, “Johnny, at daybreak in the morning turn out all
hands, and prepare a certificate for my signature at eight o’clock if
required.” Eight o’clock arrived, and no man-of-war’s decks were ever
more ready for action—our baggage all stored below, our soldiers’ arms
and everything else arranged, and I told the Captain, “Now, you see,
I need sign no certificate. We Riflemen obey orders and do not start
difficulties.” We were under way in no time. This Captain Lumsden
was an excellent fellow; some years after he took Sir James Stirling
out as Governor to Swan River and touched at the Cape, when I had an
opportunity of returning some of his many acts of kindness.

Our voyage was much like other voyages across the Atlantic, but an
odd circumstance occurred. Although each ship sailed from Belfast
separately and at an interval of two days, mine the last, we were all
three sailing into Halifax Harbour the same day [1 Sept.?], in the very
order in which we left Belfast, and anchored within a few hours of each
other. Our dear old friend, Sir James Kempt, the Governor there, was
delighted with this odd re-union, and laughed and said, “I see my old
comrades, whether separated by sea or land, get together in the old
way, however distantly extended.” In Halifax we were soon found by our
other dear old friends, the 52nd Regiment. They had more old soldiers
in their ranks than we had, having embarked for America two or three
years before us; and oh, the greeting with us all, and the happiness of
the old soldiers at meeting my wife again! They were inquiring after
her horse Tiny, her dog, etc., and expecting all were alive as when we
had parted at Bordeaux in 1814.

If ever happiness existed in this world, we may claim it for Halifax
when the Government was administered by Sir James Kempt. Society, by
the force of his example, was the most agreeable thing imaginable.
Government House was princely in its style; we had private theatricals,
races, sham-fights, regattas, and among all our varied amusements (to
which were added in the winter four-in-hand and tandem driving-clubs,
and picnics at the Half-way House), harmony the most perfect prevailed
between civilians and officers, soldiers and sailors. (Our noble
fellows of the Navy were commanded by Admiral Lake.)

We had a great re-union of Governors there one year; Lord Dalhousie,
Governor-General of North America, Sir James Kempt, Governor of Nova
Scotia, General Sir John Keane, Governor of Jamaica, Sir Howard
Douglas, Governor of New Brunswick, and Colonel Reid, Governor of
Prince Edward’s Island—a regular court of magnates—and never were
people more happy than all. For some time I had the command of the
Regiment, Colonel Norcott that of the Garrison. I afterwards accepted
an unattached half-pay majority, expecting to be brought in again,
and I was appointed A.D.C. to my dear and valued friend, Sir James
Kempt. I thus learned much of the administration of a Government, which
was afterwards of the greatest possible use to me when administering
a Government myself. I had often witnessed Sir J. Kempt’s ability as
a soldier; but I cannot avoid saying he perfectly astonished me and
all who knew him as a statesman and a ruler. Evincing such temper,
such a clearness of judgment, such discretion and most uncompromising
justice, he soon carried with him the Colony. The House of Assembly,
and even the Whig opposition, admired his talent and never opposed
any of his great acts, while, by his amiable manners and kind, though
unostentatious, hospitality, society was cemented, and indeed, what the
word implies, _social_.

The day I was gazetted out, my old Company came in a body to ask me to
allow them to give me a dinner, “that is, we don’t expect your honour
to sit down with us, but we will have a dinner, and you will drink with
us a parting glass.” I readily consented, and sat down with them, too,
for a few minutes. Old Johnny Kincaid, who succeeded me as Captain, and
my subalterns, were present, and the parting glass was drunk with that
mutual feeling of strong affection which exists between officers and
soldiers. I was a most rigid disciplinarian, but good conduct was as
much distinguished by me as bad was visited, and I carried all with me.

I was not long permitted to enjoy this comparative repose, but was
appointed [23 Nov.] Deputy Quartermaster-General in Jamaica. I
speedily prepared to join, taking a passage on board a little brig
for ourselves and our horses. I had a farewell dinner given me by the
Governor and by the Admiral, and many of the kind inhabitants, and by
every Regimental Mess, while the Regimental Order issued by Colonel
Norcott speaks for itself.[90]

I had served twenty-five [twenty-one?] years in this Corps during the
most eventful periods. It had never been on service but I was fighting
with some portion of it. No officer had ever posted it so often on
outlying picquet, and I had fought where it had not been; thus were
severed no ordinary or transient ties.

The day we were to leave we can never forget. Sir James Kempt sent for
me to his private room. I saw his warm heart was full. He said, “Harry,
I am going to exact a promise of you. The climate you are going to is
one where life and death so rapidly change places, it would be folly to
rush into unnecessary danger, by exposing yourself to the effects of
the sun or leading that life of violent exercise you have ever done.
My desire, therefore, is your promise never to go out snipe-shooting
or to ride any more races, in a tropical climate at least.” Of course
I promised. He then said, holding a letter in his hand, “Here are some
notes for your guidance in Jamaica, and as you have paid three times
more for your passage [than the allowance?], there is a note enclosed
which makes up the difference.” The tears rolled down his gallant
cheeks, and I left the room in the deepest affliction.

On descending to the ball-room I found every gentleman of Halifax and
every officer of the garrison awaiting to accompany us on board. Sir
James, taking my wife under his arm, led the procession.

As I was with Sir James, three non-commissioned officers, one Rifles,
one 52nd, and one 74th, came up and begged to speak to me. They said,
“Your Honour, the whole garrison are turned out and in column in
the street. There’s the head of it to carry your Honour on board.”
By Jupiter, there they were, sure enough, in a column of sixes,
one file Rifles, one 52nd, one 74th. They had a chair in which they
seated me, and carried me after the procession of officers on board.
These compliments _at the time_ are impressive, but when we look back
remind us of the pain of parting, and that many who were then most
loud in their shouts of parting acclamation are long ago mingled with
the mortal dust we shall all add to. The little brig was weighed
immediately. All officers who had sailing boats accompanied us to the
mouth of the harbour, and thus we parted from faithful friends, veteran
comrades, and three of the most renowned Regiments of the Duke’s old
Army, and in a few hours found ourselves alone on the wide Atlantic,
with a crew of one captain and seven sailors, and one quadrant the
only nautical instrument on board. But as we were all in all to each
other, so were we still in possession of the world. This quadrant the
captain would leave about the deck in a careless manner when taking
his observations. I almost worshipped it, and therefore watched over
it accordingly. We had a very favourable passage, and dined every
day on deck but one (for our cabin was not that of the _Royal Oak_),
and ourselves and horses reached Jamaica in twenty-eight days all
right. Soon after we landed, the crew, all but one man, an old German
carpenter, died of yellow fever, and in the harbour commenced one of
those awful visitations to the island which sweep off hundreds.

We landed at Kingston, where Sir J. Keane’s house was prepared for us.
The Governor was at Spanish Town, but came in with his generous warmth
of heart next day to entertain us. Our worthy friend, Admiral Fleming,
of Cumbernauld House,[91] was in naval command. Mrs. Fleming was with
him, so that, although in a new world, we were among faithful old
friends.

As Quartermaster-General, my first attention was directed to the
barrack accommodation, furniture, utensils, etc. The barracks at
Upper Park was a Royal Establishment in every respect; the buildings
were most beautifully provided, capacious, and built on arches with a
current of air passing beneath; they had a bath-room, etc. The barracks
in every other quarter of the island were Colonial Establishments,
the buildings at many execrable, and the barrack furniture, bedding,
etc., horrible. The soldier’s bed was a blanket, though the very touch
of a blanket in a tropical climate is disagreeable; and this, laid on
the floor, was his all: a wooden floor certainly, but full of bugs,
fleas, etc., to an incredible extent. So soon as I laid my report
before Sir John Keane, he was most desirous to effect an improvement.
We turned to and framed a statement to the Horse Guards (the Duke was
then Commander-in-Chief), and in a few months every soldier had a bed,
sheets, iron bedstead, etc., and every other requisite.

Still the troops did not escape the yellow fever, of which the
seeds, as usual in its visitations, had first germinated among the
shipping (where the mortality was fearful). The disease spread to our
troops—first to the Artillery at Port Royal, then to the 84th at Fort
Augustus, next to the 22nd Regiment at Stony Hill (in both cases to an
appalling extent), then partially to the 33rd Regiment at Upper Park
Camp, the Royal Barracks. In about six weeks we buried 22 officers
and 668 soldiers, out of the 22nd and 84th Regiments principally.
Sir John (now Lord) Keane was up the country, and I had a _carte
blanche_ to do what I thought best. I therefore, in conjunction with
the Acting Inspector-General of Hospitals, resolved to move the 84th
from Fort Augustus to a bivouac at Stony Hill. Tents were sent up
and huts were in progress. So soon as they were ready I marched the
corps, and from that day the yellow fever ceased; there was only one
admission afterwards. The day previously to the march of the poor
84th, I went down to Fort Augustus and paraded the Regiment. Only two
subalterns were fit for duty, and although only sixty men were in
hospital, seventeen died that day. The admissions into hospital were
not so great in proportion as the mortality, one in four being the
average of deaths. The Regiment was in a perfect state of despondency
(it consisted like the 22nd Regiment, of young fresh soldiers recently
arrived from England); but I cheered them up. I wheeled them into line
a time or two, formed close column, and told them, whether a soldier
died by yellow fever or on the battle-field, it was all in the service
of his country; that I should move them to a healthy spot the next day
where they would leave the yellow fever behind, and now three cheers
for his Majesty! The poor fellows were all alive again in no time. When
we consider that every officer but two was sick, that already upwards
of two hundred out of six hundred of their comrades had been buried,
when death in this passive shape lay hold of them, it is not to be
wondered at that a young (or any) Regiment should be appalled.

In Jamaica, while this yellow fever was raging, I have ridden
thirty-five miles in the sun and gone sixteen miles in an open boat in
one day, and been for a long time in the wards of different hospitals,
where sickness and death in every stage was progressing around me. It
is an awful sight to the afflicted patients in the large wards of a
hospital, reduced by sickness to the excess of debility, to see the
men on either side probably dead or dying, and there is no remedy
and very little power of at all alleviating such a calamity. Many
a man who would live if in a solitary room, dies from the power of
imagination on the debilitated frame. Then, again, when a man has lost
the fever, the surgeon is obliged to discharge him, because he requires
the accommodation for recent admissions. He goes to his Company, his
appetite has somewhat recovered, he eats heartily, a relapse ensues, he
goes to hospital and dies to a certainty. It is rarely indeed that a
case of relapse recovers. To obviate this, I established convalescent
hospitals. I had various difficulties to contend with, but the success
of the institution was an ample reward for labour, and established a
precedent since equally advantageously acted on.

Nothing can be more capricious than these epidemics in tropical
climates. On the very day twelvemonth that I paraded the 84th and
seventeen men died, Sir John Keane made his half-yearly inspection of
the corps at the same place, Fort Augustus. There was not a man in
hospital and only one man out of the ranks; he paraded in the rear of
his Company, being lame from a fractured leg.

The poor 22nd Regiment at Stony Hill suffered equally with the 84th;
the Colonel, the Major, the Paymaster, and five officers died in a few
days. The Adjutant’s room, next the Orderly room, possessed the mortal
seeds of the yellow fever. Every one who sat to write in the room was
knocked down and died in a few days; in consequence I prohibited the
use of it. Major Stewart, a most excellent officer, though not obedient
in this instance, treated the prohibition slightingly, wrote there
_two_ days, on the fifth he was buried.

In a short time this fearful epidemic disappeared, and the troops, five
regiments in all on the island, were healthy. Sir John Keane proposed
a tour of inspection throughout the island. He was to sail in his
yacht, landing every night. I, having a terrestrial turn, drove my wife
four-in-hand. The daughter of the Receiver-General, Miss Stevenson,
accompanied us, the beauty of the island.

A very curious appearance presents itself nearly all round Jamaica.
The coast is very bold, and ships to load sugar are navigated through
sunken rocks within a few yards of the very shore. At a distance the
ships look as if _on_ shore, but they ride in perfect safety, the
sunken rocks forming the protection of the harbour. To all these spots
a road is made from the adjacent sugar estates, called a _barcadero_,
from the Spanish _embarcaro_, “to embark.”

The hospitality of the superb mansions we stopped at, the fortunate
union with Sir John every night—for the sea-breeze blows so regularly
he could calculate his arrival as by land—made this one of the most
pleasant tours I ever made. Nothing can be more picturesque than the
whole island, and its fertility exceeds anything I have ever seen;
while its population (slaves) were more happy, better fed, less worked,
and better provided for in sickness than any peasants throughout the
many parts of the world in which I have been. Slavery there was merely
nominal; the young were educated to a necessary extent, the able-bodied
lightly worked, the sick comforted, the aged provided for. All had
little huts, some very comfortable, according to the turn and industry
of the occupants. All had a nice garden, and all were well fed.

After our tour we went to live in the Liguanea Mountains, in Admiral
Fleming’s Pen (as a country residence is there called); a most
delightful spot, the climate luxurious, though enervating if you
descend into the plains, which I did to my office regularly twice
a week. In these hills you have constant thunder-showers; hence the
gardens produce every European vegetable as good as in Covent Garden,
and the fruits are unequalled.

While in this happy retreat, I received a note one evening from my
worthy friend, Lord Fitzroy Somerset, to say _the Duke_, having been
pleased with my exertions in Jamaica, had appointed me [24 July] to
succeed my old friend John Bell (recently made Colonial Secretary) as
Deputy-Quartermaster-General at the Cape of Good Hope. I never received
any official communication of my appointment, and in forty-eight hours,
bag and baggage, I was on board the _Slany_ man-of-war, and under way
for Nassau to Admiral Fleming, in the hope of some ship being ordered
to proceed direct for the Cape, or to some intermediate port from
whence I could take a fresh departure for my destination.

I was very fortunate in disposing of my furniture, carriage, buggy,
horses, etc., particularly the latter, which I had brought from
Halifax. They sold for three times what I had paid for them. They have
an excellent breed of thoroughbred horses on the island, excessively
dear, but for carriages the American horses are preferred.

Without egotism, our departure from Jamaica was as gratifying to us
both as that from Halifax. Nothing could exceed the kindness of a vast
number of friends, and I had a letter from every officer commanding a
regiment.

CHAPTER XXXI.

AFTER STAYING THREE WEEKS AT NASSAU, HARRY SMITH AND HIS WIFE
SAIL FOR ENGLAND, AND AFTER A MISERABLE VOYAGE LAND AT
LIVERPOOL—HE VISITS LONDON AND WHITTLESEY, AND LEAVES
ENGLAND (1829), NOT TO RETURN TILL 1847.

We sailed in that, to appearance, heavenly climate with a fresh
sea-breeze, and as the magnificent Blue Mountains of Jamaica receded,
the appearance of an island towering from the sea into the very heavens
became as it were a speck on the mighty ocean. On our way to Nassau
we passed New Providence—the first land discovered by Columbus, the
joyful realization of his anticipations and the fruit of his wonderful
perseverance. The transparency of the water in all the harbours of
these islands is very singular. At the depth of many fathoms you see
your anchor, cable, fish, etc., at the bottom as distinctly as if no
water intervened. A sixpence may be discovered at a depth of twenty
fathoms.

On arrival at Nassau we found Admiral Fleming away on a cruise. It
was supposed he had gone to Halifax. So, there being no chance
of a man-of-war, we had to await the arrival of a brig called the
_Euphemia_, which was daily expected, and which would sail again for
Liverpool so soon as her cargo was landed and a fresh one shipped.

General Sir Lewis Grant was the Governor, and for three weeks he and
his staff put Government House at our command in every way, and did all
in their power to render our visit delightful, and to provide my wife
with every little amusement the island afforded. The island of Nassau
is a coral formation, but many parts of it are exceedingly fertile. The
wells, which produce most excellent fresh water, rise and fall with the
tide.

On the arrival of the _Euphemia_ our passage was soon arranged, but I
could have only half the stern (and only) cabin partitioned off with
canvas during the night (the other half being already engaged for two
officers of the West Indian Regiments), and a small mate’s cabin for my
wife’s maid. The prospect before my poor wife was miserable enough, and
we were afraid that in a three weeks’ voyage we should not always have
a fair wind, but her buoyant spirits laughed at the ideal distress.

We soon left the hospitable Governor and the happy island of Nassau.
Luckily, I put on board ship goats and dry stock of every description,
although the captain (a well-spoken, smart-looking young Scotchman,
married to a Liverpool woman, on board with him) engaged to find us
capitally. Our misery soon began. The ship sailed like a witch,
but we were constantly in a terrific storm, with the little cabin
battened down, no means of cooking, and but little to cook if we
had the means, and we should have been literally starved but for
the things I fortunately shipped. We were upwards of thirty days at
sea. Our captain assured me he had a timekeeper on board, and so he
had, but he knew no more how to use it than I did. We had to lay to
for forty-eight hours, during which we shipped a sea which swept the
boats, caboose, binnacles, etc., clean off the deck. It was December,
and as we approached Liverpool the weather was excessively cold, the
sailors were frost-bitten in the hands, and the captain had not a
glass of grog on board for them. I was, luckily, able to broach for
them a small cask of peculiarly good rum of great antiquity, which
I was taking as a present to an old Glasgow friend. In the midst of
all these miseries, we fortunately fell in with a little Irish smack,
which put us into the Bristol Channel, for my skipper knew no more
where he was than the ship did, the weather having been very cloudy, no
observations taken, and he and his mate execrable navigators. We made
the Tuskar Light most accidentally, and then the previously cast-down
fellow was all elevation. We got hold soon after of a Liverpool pilot.
This was no small relief to me, who, although I said nothing, saw what
an ignorant brute we were in the care of. He had neither candles nor
oil, and the very binnacle light was supplied from my wax candles. He
said he was never before more than three weeks on the voyage, and his
store (a pretty misnomer) was laid in only for that period. For the
last two days the sailors had no biscuit, and three days more would
have exhausted meat, flour, and water. The fellow was a capital seaman
on deck, and managed the beautifully-sailing brig most skilfully, and
whenever he did get a start of wind, as he termed it, he carried on
like a man.

We reached our anchorage in the Mersey long after dark, so beautifully
lighted is the approach, and lay at anchor all night in a strong
north-east wind, cold enough to cut off our tropical noses. We left our
dirty, miserable, exhausted, and stinking brig, and landed as soon as
we could the next morning, about five o’clock, in a state of the most
abject filth and misery.

We went to the Adelphi Hotel, where in a moment we were surrounded by
every luxury and attendance our wealthy country so sumptuously affords.
The sudden transition from a state of dire misery into such Elysian
Fields is not to be described by me, or forgotten by myself and wife.
It was like a miracle. No complaint ever escaped her while on board,
but after baths and every imaginable want had been supplied in one of
the best of English inns, she then exclaimed, “I hope we may never
again experience such a month of wretchedness, misery, and tempest; and
if we must, that we may bear it equally well (for it was a heavy task),
be equally protected by Divine Providence, and as happily situated
after it as at this moment.”

The next day I made every inquiry about ships, and found a very fine
brig, the _Ontario_, bound for Calcutta without a passenger. She was
to sail in a fortnight. The captain offered to take me, provided the
underwriters would allow him to go into Table Bay without an additional
premium; and this they assented to, the season of the year being
favourable.

My wife stayed at Liverpool, and I started for London, to make a few
arrangements for our voyage and to thank Lord Fitzroy Somerset and the
Duke. While I was with Lord Fitzroy Somerset, who was delighted to see
me, he said, “Hardinge, the Secretary at War, wants to see you.” I
offered to go, but he said, “No, he will come, he told me, if I would
let him know when you are here.” That able soldier and Secretary at War
and statesman (now Governor-General of India) was soon with us, and
made as useful and practical inquiries about barracks, etc., in Jamaica
as if he had been there. I then parted with these two of the Duke’s
staff with a full heart, and went to Downing Street.

The Duke was just appointed First Lord of the Treasury. I found my old
friend and brother staff-officer with Sir John Lambert, Greville[92]
(as good a fellow as ever breathed), the Duke’s private secretary.
Greville was delighted to see me, and expected his Grace every moment.
He said the Duke as Prime Minister was as light-hearted and as lively
as when comparatively idle at Cambray, that no great question seemed
to stagger him, and the facility with which all business progressed
under his conduct was truly wonderful. Greville added, “I will give
you an anecdote. The Duke is very fond of walking from Apsley House to
Downing Street, and we go through the Park, from which a small door
opens into the Prime Minister’s office. We arrive regularly at ten,
and the porter is ready to open and close the door. One day we were
rather late, and the porter looked like a weary sentry and was moving
very slow. The Duke observed this, and in his usual emphatic manner
said, ‘Greville, look at that careless fellow; I will turn his flank,
by G——.’ The Duke watched his opportunity, slipped in unperceived,
and says to the porter, ‘Hallo, you sir, a pretty _look-out_ this!’
and laughed, and enjoyed the feat, as much as he did when he played
the same flank-turning game in war.” This little anecdote depicts the
character of the man of mind, free, unshackled from thought until the
question is brought before him, and then his powerful mind is absorbed
in it, and in it solely.

I waited until three, when I was obliged to go, as I was to dine with
Sir John Lambert, and leave town for my father’s in Cambridgeshire by
seven o’clock. I was a few hours with my dear sister, Mrs. Sargant,
and then dined in my travelling costume. Dear, warm-hearted Sir John
Lambert had all his family to bid me farewell. O what a happy and
united family of brothers and sisters! and his own children were
perfectly beautiful.

At daylight the next day I was in my native place, Whittlesea. O home,
our happy home! how altered! I stayed in the house of my third Waterloo
brother, now settled as Captain of the Troop of Cavalry, magistrate,
etc.; but I could not remain more than forty-eight hours, when I was
again on my road back to London. Here I stayed a few hours with my
sister, and then off to Liverpool to join my lonely wife, a total
stranger and a foreigner in a great, commercial city!

My baggage, by the kind and civil attention of the Custom-house
officers, was transferred from one brig to the other without the usual
and laborious ordeal of landing. My new things arrived from London, and
in a few days we were summoned to embark. It was daybreak, and the brig
was floating in dock ready for the gates to be opened. We were soon on
board; I had taken a little shore-boat to row me the few yards across.
After paying my outfit, my bill at the inn, passage, insurance of
baggage, etc., the last remains of my money was half a crown. “There,”
says I, “my friend!” “Lord, sir, my fare is only threepence.” “Keep
it,” says I, “and drink the health of a man banished from his native
land.” The fellow stared at me at first as if looking at a convict. At
last, in that manner so peculiarly English, he made up his mind, “He
must be a gentleman.” “I’ll drink to your Honour’s health, depend on
it, and success attend you wherever you go.” My friend and his boat
were the farewell to my native land. It was then January, 1829; this is
1844, and I have never been home since.

CHAPTER XXXII.

VOYAGE TO THE CAPE—MILITARY DUTIES AND SPORT, 1829-1834—SIR
BENJAMIN D’URBAN SUCCEEDS SIR LOWRY COLE AS GOVERNOR OF THE
COLONY.

The stormy element, as if to atone for the violence with which it
treated us on our voyage from Nassau, now behaved most moderately.
We had a strong breeze across the Bay of Biscay, but as it was abaft
the beam we did not feel it, and our whole passage was one of fine
and moderate weather. This was very fortunate, as the brig was so
heavily laden, that at the beginning of the voyage her main chains were
positively under water. We were well found in everything, and had the
whole after-cabin to ourselves. The captain was an able navigator, both
nautical and astronomical. He gave me a list of his stock on board,
and requested me to manage dinner, etc., saying, “There is, I think,
plenty, so that if we live badly you will be to blame; but the brig is
deep and no great sailer at any time, so calculate on a three months’
passage, to make sure.”

The captain was a most excellent and kind-hearted man, a regular
British tar. During the war he had been in the Navy, and prided himself
on having been the coxswain of Captain Seymour on a frigate whose name
I forget. “Lord, Sir,” he would say, “he was a proper taut hand, but a
real gentleman.”

During the whole voyage our captain, who had a studious turn for
mathematics and astronomy, was always hard at work, and highly
delighted to explain the methods of his nautical calculations. He would
exclaim, “Oh! if I had been so lucky as to have had a real education,
I think I should have made a mathematician and astronomer.” He was a
large powerful man, and had a forehead as clear and as prominent as
that of Dr. Chalmers.

Our voyage was more fortunate than the captain had anticipated, and
in eleven weeks we anchored in Table Bay. I had never been at the
Cape before, but I had heard much of it from part of my Corps which
touched there years before [March, 1807] on their way to Buenos Ayres,
and as I had read every book about it which I could lay my hands on,
I was scarcely in a foreign land. As soon as I landed, I found that
the Governor, my old and noble General, Sir Lowry Cole, was not at
Government House, but residing in the country. I then went to look
for my dear old friend John Bell and his noble wife, Lady Catherine.
They were in an excellent house of their own, and as rejoiced to see
me as I was to see them. John and My Lady would hear of nothing but
our putting up with them, Johnny saying, “Harry, you and I and Juana
have fared more sparingly together than we will now.” The carriage was
ordered, and John and I went on board to bring the wife ashore, all
delighted at our happy union after an absence of years.

Next day John and I drove out in his buggy to breakfast with the
Governor. He and Lady Frances, that noble and accomplished woman, were
delighted to see me, but oh, how she was altered! When I first knew her
in 1815, a few days after her marriage, she was in the prime of life,
a full-blown beautiful woman, and the most interesting I ever knew. As
soon, however, as my old recollection of her was somewhat subdued, I
found her ladyship everything I had a right to expect, the mother of
six beautiful children, whose education she conducted herself, and my
gallant General all kindness and hospitality.

He and I had a long walk in the garden, when he said, “I shall appoint
you Commandant of the Garrison. You are _ex officio_, as second in
command to me, the senior Member of Council, and, if any accident
happened to me, the administration of the government would devolve
on you—John Bell, your senior officer, being Colonial Secretary and
holding no military position.”

No man was ever more happily placed than I was. The quarter in Cape
Castle forming the residence of the Governor was excellent, with a
little square in the rear with capital stables and out-offices. The
garrison consisted of one company of Artillery, the 72nd Highlanders, a
magnificent corps, and the 98th, very highly organized, considering the
short period they had been raised.

My first object was to visit and reduce the guards, which I soon did
very considerably on a representation to the Governor. The next was
to do away with guards over convicts working on the road. This could
not be effected at once, but such a friend to the soldier as Sir Lowry
was, readily received my various representations of the ill effects on
discipline of these guards, and, so soon as arrangements could be made,
these were also abolished. The next guard to dispose of was one of
one sergeant, one corporal, and six privates at the Observatory, four
miles from Cape Town, and it was not long before the building, or the
star-gazers, discovered that their celestial pursuits could be carried
on without the aid terrestrial of soldiers.

Some months after my arrival, the Kafirs being on the eve of an
outbreak, the Governor, Sir Lowry Cole, went to the frontier. He
requested me to remain at Cape Town unless a war began, when I was
immediately to join. I frequently had the troops bivouacked, and taught
them to cook in camp, piquets, etc., and every other camp duty. On one
occasion I had ball cartridges, every company at its target, and I had
out two six-pounders with their target. I manœuvred the troops, so
moving the targets as to be in their front, and I never saw half so
good target practice with muskets before. The men were delighted and
emulous beyond measure. The six-pounders, too, made excellent shots,
and I had not a single casualty.

About this time that noble fellow, General Lord Dalhousie, arrived on
his way out to India as Commander-in-Chief. I gave him a capital sham
fight, concluding by storming Fort Amsterdam, at which he was highly
amused. I knew his Lordship in America,[93] and we then and now had
many a laugh at our performances at Vittoria, previously related.

The Kafir war ended in patching up old treaties, and the Governor
returned. About this time I acted as Military Secretary and
Deputy Adjutant-General, holding the appointments of Deputy
Quartermaster-General and Commandant; and ultimately the appointments
of Deputy Adjutant-General and Deputy Quartermaster General were
blended, and I held both, being called Deputy Quartermaster-General.

Horses at the Cape are excellent. The breed had been much improved by
Lord Charles Somerset, the former Governor, by the importation of some
mares and several of the highest-bred English thoroughbred sires. I
soon had a most beautiful stud. The sporting butcher Van Reenen had an
excellent pack of fox-hounds, which he virtually allowed me to hunt,
and many is the capital run we had, but over the most breakneck country
that hounds ever crossed—sands covered with the most beautiful variety
of the _erica_, or heath, and barren hills of driftsands. These are
dug up by moles literally as big as rabbits. Their ordinary holes on
hills and under-excavations no good hunter will fall in, but in their
breeding-holes I defy any horse to avoid going heels over head, if his
fore-legs come on them, although many old experienced hunters know them
and jump over. I had one little horse not fourteen hands, descended
from Arabs; he never gave me a fall, and I never failed to bring the
brush to his stable when I rode him; but with all other horses I
have had some awful falls, particularly after rain, when the sand is
saturated with water and very heavy. Falls of this description are
far more serious than rolling over our fences at home, where activity
enables you to get away from your horse, as he is some seconds or so
coming down, but in a mole-hole you fall like a shot, the horse’s head
first coming to the ground, next yours, and he rolls right over you.
When a horse’s hind legs go into a breeding-earth the sensation is
awful, and how the noble animals escape without breaking their backs
remains one of the wonders.

Every shooting-season I made a capital excursion, first to my sporting
friend’s, Proctor’s. He was a retired officer of the 21st Dragoons, a
capital sportsman, an excellent farmer, a good judge of a horse, and a
better one of how to sell him to those whom he saw he could make money
of. He had a family of thirteen children; his wife was a Dutch lady,
still good-looking. My wife always accompanied me, as well as my friend
Bob Baillie, of the 72nd Regiment, who was subsequently celebrated in
the sporting magazines as a rider. We started with an immense waggon,
eight horses, every description of commissariat stores, greyhounds,
pointers, setters, retrievers, terriers, spaniels, and, under Proctor’s
guidance, we had capital sport.

The partridge-shooting was nearly as good as grouse-shooting; the bird,
called the grey partridge, very much resembled the grouse, and was a
noble sporting bird. There is also the red partridge, large, but stupid
to shoot. The best sport with them is to ride them down with spaniels.
There are several sorts of antelopes, which lie in the bushes and jump
up under your feet as hares do. These you shoot with buck-shot. Near
Cape Town there is only one sort of antelope “on the look-out” like our
fallow deer, grey, very handsome, and fleet, called by the Dutch the
rhee-bok. On the frontier and in the interior there are a great variety
of this gazing-deer, the most remarkable being the springbok, which is
exceedingly swift, parti-coloured or pied, and they almost fly from
you. They have the power of expanding their long hair on the top of the
back, like opening and shutting a fan. The bonte-bok is in very large
herds. These you are prohibited to shoot without a special authority
from Government, and the number even which you may shoot is limited.

The variety of modes of shooting these antelopes is highly amusing. To
shoot the eland, the largest species, as big as a two-year-old heifer,
you go full speed in a waggon over ground so rough that, what with the
speed, you can hardly hold on and preserve your guns. The animals,
hearing all the noise, stop to gaze. The waggon is instantly pulled up,
and you fire balls. After such a jolting, he is a steady fellow who
fires with any precision.

You have pheasants, too, inmates of very stiff and thorny-bushed
ravines; they afford good sport, but you must shoot them dead, or you
will never find them. There are also several species of the bustard
genus, but near Cape Town only the black and grey khoran, so called.
On the frontier you have the ordinary bustard, a noble bird and
excellent eating, weighing from 9 to 12 lbs., and a species of great
bustard, weighing from 20 to 25 lbs. The latter is eatable, but coarse.
These you shoot with balls. On the frontier, too, you have buffaloes,
elephants, lions, camelopards, ostriches, etc., so well described by
Major Harris that it is impossible to add to his faithful account.

Coursing at the Cape is not good. I pursued it much for the sake of
hunting four or five couple of spaniels. Hares there never sit in the
open as in Europe, but in low stunted bushes—half rabbits. However,
this sort of coursing with the spaniels and greyhounds teaches your
horse to become a hunter, and by rushing him after hares, he well
learns how to tumble or to avoid tumbles.

In the course of our sporting tour, I used to visit the breeding
establishments (then called kraals) of all the great breeders, I
think, Melk, Kotze, Proctor, Van Reenen, Van der Byl, etc. Melk has
six hundred mares, all running out in unenclosed fields. With such
an establishment you would expect that he could show you three or
four hundred one, two, and three year olds (for they are all sold by
this age). He can never show more than seventy or eighty colts of the
year, and the rest of the breeders can show no higher proportion.
The thoroughbred mares are invariably in miserable condition, the
cock-tails fat and sleek. Many of the mares, etc., are afflicted with a
disease from an accumulation of sand in their stomachs and intestines.

It was thought far beneath the dignity of a gentleman at the Cape to
ride or drive mares, but seeing that the mares were far finer and
larger than the horses, and one-fifth of the price, I bought from
Proctor two immense mares, as like English hunters as possible, for
£45; a thoroughbred mare, 16 hands high, four years old, for my wife
(a beautiful creature which very much delighted Lord Dalhousie); and
another thoroughbred mare, 15½. They were the four finest horses
in Cape Town. One of the carriage mares ruptured her bladder in
the carriage, and died in a few hours. The large thoroughbred got
a most tremendous fall out hunting, nearly broke my neck, and was
chest-foundered ever afterwards. The other two I sold remarkably well.
By some accident I never set up mares in my establishment again, but I
was never so elegantly horsed.

What with my military duties and those of Council, I led a far from
idle life, and there is an elasticity in the atmosphere at the Cape
which conduces to a desire to take violent rides. The sun never heats
you. I have ridden 140 miles in thirty hours to go to look at a horse
or buy one, or to look at a particular line of country. I have been
out shooting in the middle of the summer from daylight to dark, the
sun like a furnace, the pummel of the saddle like a red-hot poker,
your gun-barrel, after a few rapid shots, so heated you almost fear to
reload, then come home at night (or slept out in the fields, if you
like) and eaten a right good dinner, not in any way heated, and without
either headache or cold. An exposure of this sort to the sun of India
would probably cause a roaring fever or death.

This is the sort of life which I and my wife lived from 1829 to the end
of 1834, enjoying the greatest kindness and hospitality, and living in
happiness and sociability with every one. We had lost our dear kind
friends, Sir Lowry and Lady Frances Cole, but he was succeeded as
Governor and Commander-in-Chief, early in 1834, by a most amiable man,
Sir Benjamin D’Urban, the most educated and accomplished soldier I have
ever served with.[94]

CHAPTER XXXIII.

OUTBREAK OF A KAFIR WAR—HARRY SMITH’S HISTORIC RIDE TO
GRAHAMSTOWN—ON HIS ARRIVAL HE PROCLAIMS MARTIAL LAW—PROVIDES
FOR THE DEFENCE OF THE TOWN—ATTACKS THE KAFIRS AND RESCUES
SEVEN MISSIONARIES.[95]

The Kafir tribes, which for many months had been greatly agitated and
excited, at length burst into the Colony in what was for the moment an
irresistible rush, carrying with them fire, sword, devastation, and
cold-blooded murder, and spoiling the fertile estates and farms like
a mountain avalanche. Such were the reports received from the Civil
Commissioners and the Commandant of the troops. His Excellency Sir B.
D’Urban determined to dispatch me immediately, with full powers civil
and military to adopt whatever measures I found requisite, while he
would himself follow as soon as possible. His Excellency told me a
sloop of war was ready to take me to Algoa Bay. I, however, preferred
riding post, and the horses were laid for me for a seven days’ ride,
600 miles. It was needless to start until the horses were on the road,
so I had two days[96] to make arrangements, and to ship military
stores of every description, ordnance, etc. One half of the 72nd
Regiment was to proceed in waggons, the other by sea.

On the night of the 31st December [1834], I dined with Sir B. D’Urban
at Cape Town (my own dear little cottage at Rondebosch being four miles
off), and after dinner His Excellency and I had a long conversation.
I fully ascertained his views and desires, and then made a resolution
in my own mind never to swerve from his principles where circumstances
admitted of their application. He on his part was most frank, honest,
and decided, saying, “You now understand me thoroughly. Rely on
my support in every way, and my perfect readiness to bear all the
responsibility.”

I parted with this noble soldier and able statesman at half-past
twelve, drove out to my cottage, and lay down for three hours. I then
started with a single Hottentot for a ride of 90 miles the first
day [1st January, 1835], the heat raging like a furnace. My orders,
warrants, etc., were sewn in my jacket by my own dear wife. From the
anxiety and exertion of the previous day’s running about Cape Town from
store to store, and the little sleep I had had, as I rode the first 25
miles to the first change of horses I was half tired, but I got a cup
of tea at the post-house, and never felt fagged again.

[Illustration: CAPE TOWN AND TABLE MOUNTAIN.

_From a lithograph by Day and Haghe, 1832._

[_Opposite p. 370._]

I arrived at Caledon at one o’clock, when it was threatening a heavy
thunderstorm. I had then 25 miles to ride. The storm came on violently,
the rain poured behind me, but I reached my stage, Field Cornet
Leroze, by three, perfectly dry.

The next day I started before daylight, and got to Swellendam to
breakfast. I had two heavy, lazy brutes of horses. In Swellendam
I wrote letters of instructions to that able fellow the Civil
Commissioner, Harry Rivers, and I then started for an additional ride
of 70 miles. I found the Buffeljagts river out. My first horse from
Swellendam had a 20-miles stage, but through having to go up the river
to ford, this noble little four-year-old had 30 miles, which he did,
crossing the river too, in two hours and twenty minutes. I was so
pleased with him, I wrote to Rivers to buy him and bring him up with
the burghers. He bought him for £18 5_s._ I afterwards rode him very
hard for two years, and sold him to Sir George Napier for £50. This day
was excessively hot. I reached my stage at three o’clock.

I started the next day for George, with a long ride of 100 miles
before me. At the second stage I found no horses and was kept waiting
one hour. I got to a Field Cornet’s where there was a great assembly
of burghers enrolling their names for service, and a great dinner
prepared at twelve o’clock, at which I was fool enough to eat,
the remainder of my ride to George being rendered thereby a great
exertion. Unfortunately, after a ride of 100 miles, I found all the
civil authorities and inhabitants prepared to receive me, a ceremony I
could readily have dispensed with. I soon got rid of these well-meant
attentions, had a hot bath, lay down, and dictated letters to the Civil
Commissioner, Mynheer de Bergh, until eleven at night.

I was off before daylight with a tremendous ride before me, over
mountains, etc., etc. About halfway I met the mail from Grahamstown,
and such a task as I had to open it! Not till I had opened the last
bag did I find the packet of letters I wanted from the Commandant and
the Civil Commissioner, Grahamstown. Their descriptions of disaster,
murders, and devastations were awful; the Commandant talked of the
troops being obliged to evacuate Grahamstown. I made comments on all
these letters, and resolved to reach Grahamstown in two days. The heat
to-day and the exertion of opening the letter-bags were fatiguing. On
my arrival at my stage, I got hold of the Field Commandant Rademeyer,
and sent on expresses all night to have the horses ready a day before
they were ordered, being determined to reach Uitenhage the next night
(the fifth from Cape Town),—500 miles.

Off two hours before daylight. One river, so tortuous is its bed, I
had to cross seven times. I galloped through, and was as wet for hours
as if I had been swimming, with a sun on me like a furnace. About
halfway to Uitenhage, the heat was so excessive my horse knocked up,
and no belabouring would make him move. About half a mile off I saw
a sort of camp, went up, and found a Dutch farmer with his family,
herds, flocks, etc., fleeing from the scene of devastation. I told him
who I was, where and what I was going for, and asked him to horse me
to the next stage, about seven miles. To my astonishment (for nothing
can exceed the kindness and hospitality of the Dutch Boers on ordinary
occasions), he first started a difficulty, and then positively refused,
which soon set my blood boiling. He was holding a nice-looking horse
all ready saddled, so I knocked him down, though half as big again as
myself, jumped on his horse, and rode off. I then had a large river
to cross by ferry, and horses were waiting for me. The Boer came up,
and was very civil, making all sorts of apologies, saying until he
spoke to the _guide_ who _followed_ me, he did not believe that in
that lone condition I could be the officer I represented myself. The
passion, the knocking him down, the heat, etc., was very fatiguing,
and I reached Uitenhage at five o’clock, having been beating grass-fed
post-horses from three in the morning until that hour, and ridden over
some very bad and mountainous roads, 140 miles. To my horror, the Civil
Commissioner (though a very worthy, good man) had all the town turned
out to receive me, and a large dinner-party to _refresh_ me, while I
wanted repose. To add to this, a Colonel Cuyler, an officer retired on
half-pay, of great experience and abilities on this frontier, waited
on me. He was very communicative, of great use to me, but, being as
deaf as a beetle, the exertion of calling loud enough for him to hear
(although naturally I have a very powerful voice) I cannot describe.
I had a wash, went to the great dinner—I dare not eat, quite to the
astonishment of my host—soon retired, got hold of his secretary, and
lay on my back dictating letters until twelve o’clock, when, fairly
exhausted, I fell asleep.

Off again next morning for Grahamstown. If the previous day’s work
had been excessive, it was short of what I this day encountered from
the wretched brutes of knocked-up horses laid for me. About half way
I found the country in the wildest state of alarm, herds, flocks,
families, etc., fleeing like the Israelites. Everything that moved near
a bush was a Kafir. I was forced to have an escort of burghers on tired
horses, and oh, such a day’s work, until I got within ten miles of
Grahamstown! There I found awaiting me a neat clipping little hack of
Colonel Somerset’s (such as he is celebrated for) and an escort of six
Cape Mounted Rifles. I shall never forget the luxury of getting on this
little horse, a positive redemption from an abject state of misery and
labour. In ten minutes I was perfectly revived, and in forty minutes
was close to the barrier of Grahamstown, fresh enough to have fought a
general action, after a ride of 600 miles in six days over mountains
and execrable roads, on Dutch horses living in the fields without a
grain of corn. I performed each day’s work at the rate of fourteen
miles an hour, and I had not the slightest scratch even on my skin.

If it be taken into consideration that there was no previous training,
that I started without sleep almost and after two days’ excessive
fatigue of mind and body in Cape Town, embarking stores, troops, etc.,
the little sleep I had on the journey from being obliged to dictate
letters and give orders, the excessive heat, the roads, the horses,
then it must be admitted a performance of no ordinary exertion for a
man who, when it was over, was ready and required to use every energy
of mind and body.

On reaching the barricaded streets, I had the greatest difficulty
to ride in. I found Colonel Somerset parading the night duties.
Consternation was depicted on every countenance I met, on some despair,
every man carrying a gun, some pistols and swords too. It would have
been ludicrous in any other situation than mine, but people desponding
would not have been prepossessed in my favour by my laughing at them,
so I refrained, although much disposed to do so. I just took a look at
the mode adopted to defend Grahamstown. There were all sorts of works,
barricades, etc., some three deep, and such was the consternation, an
alarm, in the dark especially, would have set one half of the people
shooting the other. I at once observed that this defensive system would
never restore the lost confidence, and I resolved, after I had received
reports and assumed the command, to proclaim martial law, and act on
the initiative in every respect.

I rode to Somerset’s, where I was treated _en prince_. I sent for
the Civil Commissioner, Captain Campbell, and from him learned the
exact state of the country—that despondency did exist to a fearful
extent, originating from the sight of the horrors perpetrated by the
remorseless enemy, but any vigorous steps and arbitrary authority
boldly exerted would still ensure a rallying-point for all. I said,
“Very well; I clearly see my way. At as early an hour as possible
to-morrow morning I shall declare martial law, and woe betide the
man who is not as obedient as a soldier. Be so good as to prepare
the necessary document and copies to be printed for my signature. I
will be with you soon after daylight in your office, where I shall
take up my abode.” I was there according to my appointment, and found
everything ready upon this and every other occasion when I required
the services of this able public officer. No man was ever better
seconded and supported in every way than I was by Captain Campbell.
I learnt the number of regular troops to be a little above 700, the
civil force under arms 850, then occupying Grahamstown, Fort Beaufort,
the connecting post of Hermanus Kraal (the civil force being at
the Kat River Settlement, a location of Hottentots, where Captain
Armstrong with a troop of Cape Mounted Rifles acted in a civil and
military capacity). Fort Willshire had been most shamefully abandoned.
I received a report that a body of 200 Burghers of the Graaf Reinet
district, under their Civil Commissioner Ryneveld, was approaching.
I knew the front of the 72nd Regiment in waggons would reach me in
a day or two. I resolved, therefore, as soon as possible to make
an inroad into the heart of the enemy’s country in one direction,
reoccupy Fort Willshire, and thence march to rescue the missionaries
who were assembled in one house, “Lonsdale,” in Kafirland, and whose
safety could not be calculated on for one moment. I then directed the
population of Grahamstown, so soon as martial law was proclaimed, to
be formed into a Corps of Volunteers, and I would issue them arms. The
church in the square in Grahamstown being occupied as a military post
and a council chamber, I desired the principal gentlemen to assemble,
to name their own officers, etc., and to submit them for my approval,
and told them that they and the organization of the corps should be
instantly gazetted.

This was in progress, when there were so many speakers and so few
actors, the Civil Commissioner recommended me to go to the meeting. I
deemed this a good opportunity to display my authority, which I was
resolved on doing most arbitrarily on such a momentous occasion.

When I went in, there was a considerable assembly of very
respectable-looking men. I asked what was the cause of delay in
executing my demands? One gentleman, a leader in what was called the
Committee of Safety, which I very soon complimentarily dissolved, stood
up and began to enter into argument and discussion. I exclaimed in a
voice of thunder, “I am not sent here to argue, but to command. You
are now under martial law, and the first gentleman, I care not who he
may be, who does not promptly and implicitly obey my command, he shall
not even dare to give an opinion; I will try him by a court martial and
punish him in five minutes.”

This sally most completely established my authority, and I never met
with any opposition afterwards; on the contrary, a desire on the part
of all to meet my wishes. The corps were formed, officers gazetted.
As we issued, and on parade that evening, I gave the command, as was
promised, to Captain Sparks of the 49th Regiment, on leave of absence
with his family at Grahamstown.

My attention was next turned to the defence of Grahamstown. I found
that the officer in command of the 75th Regiment had taken great care
of the barracks, distant half a mile or more, but that he was averse to
detaching troops to the defence of Grahamstown. This I soon settled,
opened all the barricades, established fresh alarm posts, and at once
showed the alarmed inhabitants that defence should consist in military
resources and military vigilance, and not in being cooped up behind
doors, windows, and barricades three deep, from which they would shoot
each other. That evening, the first after I assumed the command, the
aspect of affairs had changed. Men moved like men, and felt that their
safety consisted in energetic obedience.

The next day two hundred Graaf Reinet burghers arrived. I despatched
some of them and Colonel Somerset with a force to the rear to improve
our communication with Algoa Bay, which was interrupted, and I prepared
a force of three hundred men to invade the kraal of the Kafir chief
Eno, and, if possible, to seize that double-faced old murderer and
breaker of treaties. This command I gave to an old brother Rifleman,
Major William Cox, then in the 75th Regiment, a soldier by experience,
nature, and courage, the most useful and active officer under my
command. I never expected they would seize old Eno—he had a very
narrow escape, though—but, as I anticipated, the object of my inroad
was completely achieved, and from that moment all the invading Kafirs
rapidly withdrew from the Colony. It also showed the Kafirs that
the Hottentots would fight against them, which previously they had
disbelieved.

A party of the 72nd Regiment having arrived, I immediately reoccupied
Fort Willshire.

My next object was to rescue the missionaries from the very heart of
Kafirland, where seven of them (I think) with their families expected
momentarily to have their throats cut. I again employed my old brother
Rifleman, Major Cox, who succeeded to the utmost of my most sanguine
expectations and brought off every British subject.

After [leaving] his command at Fort Willshire, and [the missionaries]
were in perfect security, he pushed on to Grahamstown to report his
success. When he reached the Fish River he found it full, and swam
across, leading his horse in his hand, like a gallant fellow as he
is. On reaching me, he found that Sir B. D’Urban, the Governor, had
arrived; and highly delighted Cox and I were that the last act of
mine before resigning the command was one of brilliant success and an
achievement of no ordinary enterprise. The Governor was as pleased as
we were. This rescue of the missionaries was the best thing I ever did
during the war, but one which these holy gentlemen and their Societies
never acknowledged as they ought, though always ready to _censure_.
“Charity is a comprehensive word.”

The day after the arrival of the Governor he issued a General Order, of
which the following is an extract:—

“Headquarters, Grahamstown,
“Frontier of the Cape of Good Hope, 22 Jan. 1835.

“The Commander-in-Chief desires to offer Colonel Smith the expression
at once of his unqualified approbation and of his warmest thanks for
the important services which he has rendered to the King and to the
Colony during the period of his commanding the forces on the Frontier
District.

“The unparalleled rapidity with which he rode from Cape Town to
Grahamstown, a distance of 600 miles, accomplishing it in less than
six days; his indefatigable and most able exertion from the moment of
his arrival to expel the savage enemy from the ground their unexpected
and treacherous invasion had gained—to afford protection and support
to the inhabitants; to restore confidence and to organize the armed
population, and combine the resources of the country—have been beyond
all praise, and justly entitle him to the grateful acknowledgments of
the Colony and of the Commander-in-Chief.”[97]

CHAPTER XXXIV.

HARRY SMITH CHIEF OF THE STAFF UNDER SIR BENJAMIN D’URBAN—HE
MAKES TWO FORAYS INTO THE FISH RIVER BUSH AND ONE INTO THE
UMDIZINI BUSH—THE FORCE UNDER SIR B. D’URBAN MARCHES FROM
FORT WILLSHIRE TO THE POORTS OF THE BUFFALO, FROM WHENCE
HARRY SMITH MAKES ANOTHER FORAY.

My duty now, although not of so directly responsible a nature, was
laborious and active in the extreme in conformity to the General Orders
which follow:—

“Colonel Smith will, for the present, resume his duties as Deputy
Quartermaster-General and acting Deputy Adjutant-General of the
forces, and, in this capacity as Chief of the Staff, will take charge
of the organization of a force to be prepared for active operations;
for carrying which into effect he is hereby authorized to make
requisitions upon the competent departments, and to approve all
requisitions and contracts, which approvals will be then sufficient
warrant for the corresponding issues and purchases; and he will be so
good as to make a daily report of the progress of this service to the
Commander-in-Chief.”

In the progress of these arduous services, I organized two corps of
Hottentots, consisting of every loose vagabond I could lay my hand on,
called the 1st and 2nd Battalion Hottentot Infantry. They consisted
of four Companies each, 100 men to a Company. It is scarcely to be
credited how rapidly these men trained as soldiers. No nation in the
world, with the exception of the inhabitants of the South of France,
have such a natural turn to become soldiers as the Hottentots.

In the various operations I had carried on, I had never been able
to give a command to Lieut.-Colonel Z—— of the — Regiment, who had
been active and useful under me, but I promised him that, as soon
as I possibly could do so, he should have one. I ascertained that a
considerable body of Kafirs, cattle, etc., were concentrated in the
dense fastnesses of the Fish River bush, from which it was necessary to
dislodge them before the advance of the invading force. I laid my plan
before Sir Benjamin D’Urban, who fully approved of it, and as I wished,
he consented that Colonel Z—— should have the command of the troops to
effect this service. I sent for the Colonel, and he was delighted. I
said, “Now, make your own arrangements. You know the country; you know
the desire I have had to give you a command, and I should be sorry if I
did not everything in my power to make it agreeable.”

All was arranged, and Z—— and his expedition marched. I was under no
apprehension of its success, and my mind was devoted to the eternal
subject of organization of Boers, Hottentots, waggons, etc., when
most unexpectedly Colonel Z—— returned to headquarters, and I could
observe by his manner victory was not the subject. He of course never
acknowledged reverse; said he had not sufficient troops, etc., and
that to dislodge the savages, as he always termed them, more must be
employed. “But,” I said, “how came you to leave your command?” “Oh, I
thought I could best explain matters myself.” “Well,” I said, “come to
the Commander-in-Chief.”

His Excellency received him very coldly, being exceedingly offended
at his leaving his troops, especially under the circumstances. When
Colonel Z—— went, Sir Benjamin D’Urban broke out and said, “G——, he has
had a licking, and what the devil made him leave his troops? Smith,”
says Sir B., “this check must be immediately repaired, and you must go
yourself. Take with you what you deem sufficient, and lose no time.”

I certainly did not, for that afternoon some more infantry were on the
march. In the course of the day Jim Cox came to me from Z——, describing
how hurt he was that I had to command. I positively laughed at the
idea of such a command adding to anything but my labours, and I said,
“Willingly will I go to Sir Benjamin D’Urban and tell him Z—— is hurt
and in some degree imputes to me the arrangement.” The only time Sir
Benjamin D’Urban was ever angry with me was on this occasion. “I have
decided on what I consider the service demands, and I little expected
any remonstrances from you, Smith.” I said quietly, “It was only to
serve another, sir.” “Yes, at the risk of the public service.” Z—— was
furious. He was ordered to rejoin his former command.

So soon as I reached the troops on the banks of the river, I
reconnoitred the enemy’s position, rendered extraordinarily strong from
dense bush, almost impenetrable to any but a creeping Kafir, ravines,
mountains, etc. I found it necessary to attack at three points, and
disposed of my troops accordingly, giving the command of the right and
cavalry division to Colonel Somerset, and the left to Colonel Z——,
while I remained with the centre.

The river was up, and prevented me crossing for three days. The heat on
its banks was intense. I determined, however, that so soon as the river
was practicable, I would attack and that my infantry should penetrate
the thickets while the cavalry should intercept the retreat of the
enemy and their cattle. The evening before the attack, when I gave
Colonel Z—— his orders, he said, “Any further orders?” I said, “None.”
He laughed in a very satirical manner. “Ah, ah, catch a Kafir with
infantry.” I said, “Yes, Colonel, I intend it, and _you shall too_.”
Our success exceeded my most sanguine expectations.

Such was the extent of the country, that a considerable part of it I
had not been able to penetrate. I was resolved, therefore, to make a
second attempt, which I was not long about.

The evening previous to a long march for the different columns to gain
their ground, I received an application from Colonel Z—— for permission
to return to Grahamstown. I was thunderstruck, but of course said, “Go
when you like”; and I had to send Major Gregory, an excellent officer,
thirty miles to take the command of Z——’s force, which he reached just
in time for it to commence its march. On my second attempt I completely
scoured the holds and fastnesses of the Kafirs, namely, “the dense
and extensive thorny ravines, etc., of the great Fish River bush,”
which they had deemed impenetrable, and which in no previous war had
they ever been driven from. The Kafirs never again occupied this bush
permanently, although a brilliant affair subsequently occurred [9th
March] between some Boers under Field Commandant Rademeyer and a large
body of them.[98] Thus Kafirs were caught by infantry, and we secured a
considerable quantity of cattle, upwards of 5000, for which the savage
fights desperately. The nature of this bush service requires the most
practised light troops, and the advantage I derived from the service of
my old comrade Cox is not to be described.

After this I brought my two battalions of Hottentots into play. The
enemy in this bush had about thirty renegade Hottentots, many of them
runaway servants who had deserted with their masters’ double-barrelled
fowling-pieces. I never had more difficulty to dislodge a few men in
my life, and these fellows caused me a loss of some valuable men.

Sir Benjamin D’Urban was highly gratified with my success, and issued a
very complimentary General Order to that effect.[99]

Soon after this I went to Fort Willshire, to prepare the camp for the
rendezvous of the army under Sir Benjamin D’Urban in person, and, the
troops being much in want of cattle from the country having been so
driven, spoiled, and devastated, I resolved to make an inroad into
Kafirland to a dense bush (as it is in this country called) beyond the
Umdizini, where I was led to believe a considerable quantity of Kafirs
and cattle were collected. The distance from my camp was thirty-five
miles, and I had the rapid Keiskamma River to cross. I marched at
one o’clock in the morning, with a corps of mounted men, principally
composed of the Swellendam Burghers or Yeomanry, under a veteran old
Commandant who had made seven Kafir campaigns. My inroad was perfectly
successful, and I reached my bivouac at nine the following night,
having marched a distance from point to point of 70 miles, exclusive of
operations in the bush. I brought with me upwards of 2000 head of fat
cattle, which were most acceptable for the consumption of our troops.

In a few days the Commander-in-Chief reached the camp [31 March] at
Fort Willshire, and the troops were all ready for the field, and
as highly organized as such a mob of armed inhabitants could be.
Our train of commissariat waggons, each with twenty oxen in it, was
immense. With the head-quarters column alone we had 170 occupying about
two miles. From the length of these teams, I expected great difficulty
with them, and certainly took every pains to regulate and divide them
into divisions, departments, etc., appointing a captain over the whole.
To my astonishment, so excellent were the bullocks, I never had the
slightest trouble, and they could march over any country whatever with
the troops.

From Fort Willshire we marched to a position at the foot of what are
termed the Poorts of the Buffalo, very high wooded ridges, high up
the river of this name, and, as we were obliged to halt there for our
left column to get into its line, I requested Sir Benjamin D’Urban to
allow me to conduct a patrol into this bush. He consented; and I had
the prettiest affair by far of any during the war, and the most like a
fight.

I took with me a detachment of the 72nd Highlanders, under Captain
Murray, my faithful attendant always; one of the Hottentot Battalions;
and my Corps of Mounted Guides, gentlemen of the country and merchants
who had traded all over Kafirland and knew the country perfectly.
Never was there a more useful body. The Hottentot Battalion had a
considerable _détour_ to make, and I wished to occupy a ridge to
support and to observe their movement. In attempting this, I was
opposed by a considerable body of Kafirs posted on a sort of natural
castle of rocks, steep and scarped by nature, and so well did the
Kafirs maintain themselves, wounding Murray and several of his men,
that I had to turn them ere they were dislodged.[100] In the meanwhile,
the Hottentot Battalion, hearing the firing and seeing the bush full
of cattle, came flying on and drove the Kafirs in every direction,
killing many. We captured upwards of four thousand cattle. The care of
these cattle and the sending them to the rear were a very laborious and
arduous duty.

CHAPTER XXXV.

OVER THE KEI INTO HINTZA’S TERRITORY—WAR DECLARED AGAINST
HINTZA—HIS KRAAL BEING DESTROYED THE CHIEF COMES IN, AND
AGREES TO THE TERMS OF PEACE—HE REMAINS AS A HOSTAGE WITH
THE BRITISH FORCE, WHICH MARCHES BACK TO THE KEI—HARRY
SMITH MARCHES UNDER HINTZA’S GUIDANCE INTO HIS TERRITORY TO
RECOVER THE STOLEN CATTLE—NEAR THE XABECCA HINTZA TRIES TO
ESCAPE, AND IS SHOT.

From the Poorts of the Buffalo we marched up to the Kei, the right
bank of which was the great chief Hintza’s territory. Every overture
of a pacific character had been made this chief, but no satisfactory,
nor indeed decided, answer could be obtained. It was, in the first
instance, ordered that we should cross the river without committing
any act of hostility, but our sentries and picquets were to be most
watchful and vigilant, our avowed object being to recover the cattle
which had been so treacherously stolen out of the colony and driven
into Hintza’s country, and from which he would undoubtedly take a
considerable duty. The troops marched on to the missionary station of
Butterworth, close to one of Hintza’s great kraals.

The army remained here some days, constantly receiving shuffling
messages from Hintza. Here the whole of the Fingoes in Hintza’s
territories threw themselves on the protection of the Governor. These
Fingoes were once a powerful nation, but, being defeated in war, fled
to Hintza’s territories for protection, which he promised. However, so
soon as they were dispersed and powerless, he and his chieftains seized
all their cattle, and reduced the whole to the most abject state of
slavery. These were the remains of eight powerful nations.[101]

After a day or two’s shuffling, Hintza sent into camp his Prime
Minister, Kuba, a sharp wolf-like looking fellow, with the cunning of
Satan. I would back him eating beef-steaks against any devil. After the
Governor had given Kuba several audiences and patiently heard all he
had to urge in extenuation of Hintza’s evasive conduct, it was evident
he had not the slightest intention of restoring the cattle, or making
any reparation for the murder of British subjects early in the war, the
destruction of the missionary station at Butterworth, etc. Accordingly,
war was formally declared.

At ten o’clock our tents were struck, and the army marched [24 April].
A mounted patrol of three hundred cavalry were given to me, and some
Fingoes. I made a most rapid march on another of Hintza’s kraals, where
his great wife Nomsa frequently resided. I reached it just before
dark, and had a smart brush with the enemy and took a lot of cattle.
The next morning at daylight I pushed forward to the bed of the Upper
Kei, where information led me to believe a considerable quantity of
colonial cattle were secreted. I had a tremendous march this day, and
the heat on the banks of the river was excessive. At dark this night I
had captured 14,000 head of cattle, principally colonial. I ascertained
some months afterwards that these were Macomo’s booty. The next day I
joined the headquarters column to get rid of my cattle and to get some
fresh troops.

At daylight the following day I crossed the rocky bed of the T’somo,
very deep and rapid, and made a most precipitate march on Hintza’s
kraal. He was not there, but many of his followers were; his cattle
were all driven off. I immediately burnt his kraal—in Kafirland
regarded as the possession of his territory—the only kraal I burnt in
his country.

The rapidity of these inroads, the extraordinary extent of country
traversed by the troops with me, the burning of Hintza’s kraal, were
viewed by Hintza with the utmost surprise and consternation, and
this chief, who had treated with the utmost evasion and contempt all
previous overtures, on the day after his kraal was burnt came into our
camp with his son and court, a humble suppliant for peace and mercy.
A few years before, a detachment of troops under Colonel Somerset
had been sent to assist him against his enemies, and saved him from
destruction. He therefore rode into our camp in an undaunted manner.
(The poor savage always buries the past in oblivion, and regards the
present only. He has not the most distant idea of right or wrong as
regards his line of conduct. Self-interest is his controlling impulse,
and desire stands for law and rectitude.) The Governor, Sir B. D’Urban,
recorded on paper, in a clear and strong manner, all the grievances
he had to complain of, and the redress which he sought and would
have. Hintza, with about fifty followers, was immediately prepared
to enter into treaty. Kuba was not with him, but he had another of
his councillors, a man of great repute, Umtini. As the interpreter
translated the Governor’s statement paragraph by paragraph, Hintza
acknowledged everything. The demand was made for restitution of cattle
stolen and redress for all other grievances. Hintza asked to have till
next day to consider it, which was granted.

That night he dined with me, while a bullock was given for a feast to
his followers, one of whom acted as butcher. The slaughtering is done
with great ceremony, but it is horrible to behold. The ox is thrown on
his back. The butcher then makes an incision between the chest and the
abdomen, through which protrudes immediately a considerable portion
of the omentum. This is cut off for the great man of the party as the
most acceptable relish. The butcher then introduces his hand and arm
up to the very shoulder into the incision, gets hold of the heart and
turns it, the animal giving a terrific roar of excruciating pain which
is really appalling. But he is dead in a moment, the circulation being
stopped by the twisting of the blood-vessels. By this method of slaying
the animal, all the blood is preserved in the meat, which the Kafir
thinks adds to its flavour and nutritious power.[102]

Hintza, Umtini, myself, and the interpreter were together four hours.
I was never more astonished than by the ability with which Hintza
argued on every point and by the shrewd and cautious opinions expressed
by Umtini. The interpreter, Mr. Shepstone,[103] a very clever youth
of nineteen, was the son of a missionary. He had been born among the
Kafirs, and the language was as familiar to him as that of his father.
He was the only interpreter we had who could convey your meaning in the
Kafir idiom and in conformity to their usages and knowledge of men and
things. After all this discussion, Hintza said, “Well, I shall agree
to-morrow to the Governors demands in every respect.” He then left me,
having eaten enough for seven men. I walked with him to his people,
where the protruding omentum of the slaughtered bullock was prepared
for him. Curiosity induced me to remain. He ate every bit of this fat
fried lightly; there could not have been less than four pounds.

The next day a sort of court was held, and Hintza formally accepted
the conditions of peace offered by his Excellency. Peace was therefore
proclaimed, and Hintza went through the ceremony of despatching
messengers in all directions to collect the quota of cattle he was to
furnish, as well as to bring to headquarters the colonial cattle.

On one of my predatory expeditions I had taken a great chief, by name
Maquay. My A.D.C., Balfour, seized him and saved his life, and he was
a prisoner in our camp, and I had several others. I now released them
all, being very glad to get rid of their custody. If ever a savage can
feel any sensation approaching to gratitude, this chief Maquay did when
I gave him his liberty. He thanked me for his life, while he frankly
acknowledged that, under similar circumstances, he should have taken
mine.

Hintza’s promises were so strong that the army commenced its march [May
2] towards the ford of the Kei, since called Smith’s Tower, there to
remain until the conditions of the treaty were fulfilled. A deluge of
rain detained us some days. In daily expectation of the arrival of the
cattle, the army was as well in one camp as another. Hintza remained
with us, which gave us every confidence. When pressed to name hostages,
he said, “Oh, I shall willingly remain myself.” This act of frankness
was evidently intended as a cloak, and he meditated his escape. He was
frequently asking me leave to ride out to meet his people bringing in
cattle. This I usually refused. One fine sunny day he so pressed me
that I asked the Governor’s permission, saying that I would provide for
his security. Sir Benjamin D’Urban said, “Depend on it, he meditates
his escape”; for some days over the period stipulated had elapsed, and
not an article of the treaty acted on.

I sent with Hintza a well-mounted escort of the Cape Corps under a
Lieut. Wade, a smart, active and well-mounted officer. I directed him
to examine his pistols in Hintza’s presence, and the escort their
carbines, and to be most vigilant. Hintza endeavoured to lead him
into intricate ground, but Wade was far too sharp a fellow, and said,
“Hintza, riding about in this way is all folly. I shall take you
back to camp.” That very day Hintza’s and Boku his brother’s people
had commenced a general massacre of all the Fingoes near them who,
in virtue of the treaty of peace, had wandered from the camp. The
Governor, seeing the treachery and the absolute want of all faith,
became exceedingly indignant, and threatened to hang Hintza himself,
and Kreili his son, and Boku his brother, if an instant cessation of
this carnage did not take place. The fellows funked, and immediately
sent messengers scampering in every direction.

The same night, Hintza’s sort of confidential man, a notorious
thief and spy, came to me requesting a private audience. I said,
“Let him come in.” The sergeant of my escort, who always had his
double-barrelled carbine in his hand, made me a sign he would be at
hand. I then, alone with the fellow (a copper-coloured half-Hottentot,
half-Kafir, a strong athletic fellow), said in Dutch, which he spoke
perfectly, “Well, what do you want?” He began to abuse Hintza, saying
he was a robber, a traitor to his own people and to us (I saw by the
rascal’s eye there was mischief in it), and that he wished to serve
me. “You scoundrel,” I said, “you have been well treated by Hintza;
you now wish to desert him because you think he is in difficulties. I
will show you how Englishmen treat runaway servants.” I called Japps,
and desired him to give the fellow a good flogging and kick him into
Hintza’s camp. Japps was not long in obeying my orders, and soon came
back with a large clasp-knife in his hand. “There,” says he, “this fell
from under the rascal’s arm, and he has confessed Hintza sent him to
murder you.”[104]

We moved our camp from the bed of the Kei on the road. The Governor
began to think Hintza had no intention whatever of fulfilling his
promises, but he did not desire to bring him over the Kei a prisoner,
which would have been regarded throughout his country as an insult;
he therefore proposed that two of his comrades should remain as
hostages. Hintza would only offer two common men. The Governor then
said, “Hintza, I shall keep Kreili and Boku.” This startled Hintza
exceedingly, and he renewed a proposal to me which he had often made,
that if I would go with him and take troops, he would himself speedily
collect the cattle. After all our marches and exertions, it was as
annoying as unsatisfactory to recross the Kei without the redemption
of the colonial cattle. I therefore rather urged this proposal on the
consideration of his Excellency, who was always of opinion that Hintza
was playing false and that his liberty was his sole consideration.
“However,” his Excellency said, “it is a chance in our favour; you may
go with him, but, depend on it, you have undertaken a laborious task.”

I prepared, therefore, to march immediately, while the Governor
intended to cross over the Fingoes—an operation something resembling
the flight of the Israelites out of Egypt—and then to pass the troops.
I took with me—

50 Cape Rifles, under an old Peninsular officer, a Captain Ross.

2 Companies 72nd Regiment, under Captain Murray, who had now perfectly
recovered from his wound.

3 Companies 1st Battalion Hottentots.

15 of the Corps of Guides.

My A.D.C., Balfour, and my worthy friend Major White, the Q.M.G. of
the Burgher force.

Some commissariat stores of bread, flour, and spirits packed on oxen.

Hintza had been treated by me with every possible kindness, and always
affected to acknowledge it. He had been loaded with presents by the
Governor, and I candidly admit I had a feeling of kindness towards the
chief daily growing upon me, which I could not account for.

We were all soon _en route_ [10 May]. The troops had a very long,
steep, and winding road, the ascent from the bed of the Kei to the
tableland. Hintza, I, my A.D.C., and interpreter, with my escort of
Guides, rode on, dismounted, and sat looking at the troops climbing
the ascent. Hintza said to the interpreter, “Ask the Colonel in what
position I now stand as regards myself and my subjects.” I was very
glad he put this question, and in very deliberate terms and in an
impressive manner I thus expressed myself through the interpreter:
“Hintza, you have lived with me now nine days; you call yourself my
son, and you say you are sensible of my kindness. Now, I am responsible
to my King and to my Governor for your safe custody. Clearly understand
that you have requested that the troops under my command should
accompany you to enable you to fulfil the treaty of peace you have
entered into. You voluntarily placed yourself in our hands as a
hostage; you are, however, to look upon me as having full power over
you, and if you attempt to escape, you will assuredly be shot.[105] I
consider my nation at peace with yours, and I shall not molest your
subjects provided they are peaceable. When they bring the cattle
according to your command, I shall select the bullocks and return the
cows and calves to them.”

Hintza replied that he came out to fulfil his treaty of peace, and
with no intention to escape, and that the fact of his son’s being in
our hands was a sufficient guarantee of his sincerity. I replied most
emphatically, “Very well, Hintza; act up to this, and I am your friend.
Again I tell you, _if you attempt to escape, you will be shot_.”

Notwithstanding these specious professions, that very afternoon my
suspicions were aroused. I observed two Kafirs coming towards us with
five head of cattle. On seeing us, they stopped, and Hintza, without
asking my leave, sent a mounted man to them—as he said, to bring them
in; but, in place of that, the messenger and the others went off
together. My officer, Mr. Southey of the Corps of Guides, attached much
importance to this little circumstance. On closely questioning Hintza,
I received from him such evasive replies I began to think there must
be some little act of treachery, and I pressed him to define the route
which he proposed I should take. I could never get more from him than
“We are going right.”

I knew any chance of success in my expedition depended on the rapidity
of my march, for the Kafirs themselves would drive the surrounding
country as we approached. I marched, therefore, till dark, having
crossed the Guadan Hills that night. Before daylight the next morning
[11 May] I was again _en route_, and reached the Guanga late in the
afternoon. There I bivouacked and my men cooked. Hintza always ate
with me, and, with his councillor Umtini, lay near me at night. I
kept a very Light Division watch over him. After eating, I said,
“Now, Hintza, we are a long way in your country; I must know where you
propose to conduct me.” He was on this occasion very communicative,
and requested that I should march towards the mouth of the Bashee by a
route which he would point out, and that we should move at midnight. To
this request I readily acceded, having observed during the day’s march
all the cattle to be driven in that direction. At twelve I marched [12
May], keeping a very sharp look-out on Hintza, whose manner I observed
to be excited, and continued marching till eight in the morning, when
it became necessary to halt and cook.

At breakfast the chief appeared particularly uneasy and evidently
annoyed at the vigilance with which I watched him. He observed
peevishly, “What have the cattle done that you want them? or why must
I see my subjects deprived of them?” I said, “These are odd questions
to ask, Hintza. You well know the outrages committed in the Colony by
your people; it is in redress of these wrongs I march, and at your own
request.”

At ten o’clock I again marched. Hintza suddenly became in high spirits,
and observed sarcastically, “See how my subjects treat me: they drive
the cattle away in spite of me.” “Hintza,” I said, “I do not want your
subjects’ cattle; I am sent for the colonial cattle which have been
stolen, and which I _will have_.” “Then,” said the chief, “allow me to
send forward Umtini, my principal councillor, to tell my people I am
here, that they must not drive away their cattle, and that the cattle
of your own nation will alone be selected.” This proposal I immediately
agreed to, as it appeared to hold out some chance of success, although
I could not divest myself of the opinion that Hintza was meditating
some mischief. I particularly enjoined Umtini to return at night, and
this he promised faithfully to do.

Umtini quitted the line of march at full speed, accompanied by one of
Hintza’s attendants, the chief exclaiming, in high spirits, “Now you
need not go to the Bashee; you will have more cattle than you can drive
on the Xabecca”—a small river which we were rapidly approaching.

On my nearing the stream, it was found that the spoor or track of
the cattle branched off in two directions—one to the left, up a high
mountain; the other to the right, up a very steep, abrupt, high, and
wooded hill upon the banks of the Xabecca.[106] The river-bed below was
rugged, precipitous, and covered with brushwood. Hintza said, “We must
follow the track to our right; the cattle which are gone to the left up
the mountain are lost to us.” This desire of his I resolved to follow,
and crossed the Xabecca accordingly.

It had been remarked that this morning Hintza rode a remarkable fine
and powerful horse, which he spared fatigue by leading him up any hill
we came across during the march. On the opposite side of the Xabecca
the ascent was steep, precipitous, and woody. I was riding at the head
of the column, when I heard a rush of horses behind me, and called out
to the Corps of Guides, in whose particular charge Hintza was. I then
observed the chief and all his followers riding up quickly to me and
passing me in the bushes on both sides. The Corps of Guides called my
attention to the circumstance, and I exclaimed to Hintza, “Stop!” At
this moment the chief, having moved to one side of the track which we
were marching on, became entangled among the bushes and was obliged to
descend again on to the path before us. I drew a pistol, at which the
chief smiled so ingenuously, I nearly felt regret at my suspicions,
and I allowed the chief to ride on, preceded by some of the Corps of
Guides, his guards, who had pushed forward to intercept him if he
attempted to escape.

On reaching the top of this ascent, we found the country perfectly
open, and parallel with the rugged and wooded bed of the Xabecca
(calculated for the resort, cover, and protection of the Kafir), a
considerable tongue of land ran for about two miles and terminated at
the bend of the river, where was a Kafir village. On reaching the top,
my mind was occupied with the march of the troops up this steep ascent,
and I was looking back to observe their appearance, when the chief set
off at full speed, passing the Guides in front, towards the village
in the distance. Two of the Guides, active fellows, Messrs. Southey
and Shaw, set off, exclaiming, “Oh, Colonel, Colonel, look!” My first
glance showed me the treachery, and both spurs were dashed into my
horse’s sides, a noble animal of best English blood. The chief was at
least two hundred yards ahead of me, and for half a mile his horse was
as fast as mine. It was a capital horse in good condition, given to him
some months before by Colonel Somerset. After that distance I found I
rapidly neared him, and when within a distance of forty yards I pulled
out a pistol. It snapped. I tried a second, with equal ill success.
At this moment Hintza’s horse gained on me, and I found that in the
pursuit I had rushed my horse with such violence I had nearly blown
him, and that, if I must take the chief, it was necessary to nurse my
horse a little. In about a quarter of a mile I again closed with him. I
had no sword on, but I struck him with the butt end of a pistol, which
flew out of my hand. He was jobbing at me furiously with his assagai.
I rode upon his right to prevent him turning down into the bed of the
river, which I supposed (as afterwards it proved) was full of Kafirs in
waiting to receive him.

I was now rapidly approaching the Kafir huts, and the blood of my horse
gave me great advantage over Hintza. I tried to seize his bridle-reins,
but he parried my attempt with his assagai. I prayed him to stop, but
he was in a state of frenzy. At this point of desperation, a whisper
came into my ear, “Pull him off his horse!” I shall not, nor ever
could, forget the peculiarity of this whisper. No time was to be lost.
I immediately rode so close to him that his assagai was comparatively
harmless, and, seizing him by the collar of his karosse (or tiger-skin
cloak), I found I could shake him in his seat. I made a desperate
effort by urging my horse to pass his, and I hurled him to the ground.

My horse was naturally of a violent temper, and, from the manner I
had spurred him and rushed him about, he became furious. Having now
recovered and running on his second wind, I could not pull him up, and
he ran away with me to the Kafir village. I expected to feel a hundred
assagais at me in a moment, but all the Kafirs had gone down into the
river. I dropped the reins on one side, and with both hands hauled his
head round. I then spurred him violently and drove him right upon a
Kafir hut, by which he nearly fell, and I got him round with his head
the right way, viz. back again, and did not spare the spurs.

The Kafir’s fall created delay sufficient for the foremost of the
Guides, Southey, to approach within gunshot. Southey shot the Kafir
Larunu, and as Hintza was running into the bed of the river, called
to him to stop. At this moment I was within hailing distance, and I
desired Mr. Southey, “Fire, fire at him.” He did so from about two
hundred yards off. The chief fell, and I pulled up, thinking he was
knocked over. He was on his legs again in a moment, and so close to
the bush he succeeded in gaining it. I made instant arrangements with
the troops to invest as much of the bush as I could, in the hope of
intercepting him. In the mean time, however, with the utmost rapidity,
Southey and my A.D.C., Lieut. Balfour, 72nd Regiment, pursued him into
the bush, the former keeping up, the latter down the stream, when
Southey was suddenly startled by an assagai striking the stone or cliff
on which he was climbing. Turning quickly round, he perceived a Kafir,
his head and uplifted assagai only visible, and so close, he had to
recoil to bring up his gun. It was an act like lightning; either the
Kafir would send the assagai first, or the shot must fall. Southey was
first, and fired and shot the Kafir, whom to his astonishment he found
to be the chief.

Southey immediately galloped towards me. There was a cry, “Hintza is
taken,” at which I was not a little delighted, and I sent the sergeant
of my escort, Japps, to bring him to me in a rein or halter, but by
no means to treat him roughly. In a few seconds Southey reported the
melancholy truth. I say “melancholy” because I had much rather he had
been taken, but I thanked Southey for his exertions, and there was no
one act I could upbraid myself with as contributing to the chief’s
attempt to escape after the warning I had given him and the kindness
and respect I had treated him with, and after having, merely to please
him, marched, as he pretended, to his assistance.

I had the corpse brought up the hill carefully wrapped in the karosse,
and laid near the Kafir village with every mark of decency. I had no
tools, or I would have buried it. In the distance, with my telescope
I saw the confederate Umtini, and observed by his gestures that he was
exciting and calling together the Kafirs in all directions by means of
messengers running from hill to hill. This is their ordinary method of
communication, and it is nearly as rapid as our telegraph.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

MARCH ACROSS THE BASHEE TO THE UMTATA AND BACK TO THE
BASHEE—DEATH OF MAJOR WHITE—DIFFICULT MARCH FROM THE
BASHEE TO REJOIN SIR B. D’URBAN ON THE KEI—ANNEXATION OF
THE TERRITORY CALLED THE “PROVINCE OF QUEEN ADELAIDE,” AND
FOUNDING OF ITS CAPITAL, “KING WILLIAM’S TOWN”—RETURN OF THE
GOVERNOR TO GRAHAMSTOWN.

I collected my troops, and saw many of my officers look somewhat
staggered as to what was to come next, considering that they were such
a handful of troops in the heart of a country swarming with people
who were now our most avowed enemies. Some of Hintza’s followers were
in my hands. These I despatched to their countrymen, to tell them how
Hintza’s treachery had cost him his life, and that I should [not?] make
war upon them. I called the officers to the front, and some of the
influential non-commissioned officers of the Hottentot companies, and
told them the Bashee was not far distant. I should march upon it, and
cross or otherwise as circumstances demanded, for I had been informed
that the bed was full of cattle, principally colonial. I was now
without a guide, for on this important point I had naturally depended
on Hintza. However, I could distinguish the line of the bed of the
Bashee, to which it had been told me by Hintza that the cattle would be
driven, and the tracks of cattle all converged in that direction.

Late in the afternoon the waters of the Bashee were discernible and
on its further bank a considerable number of cattle. The troops had
been marching fourteen hours, but I resolved to push forward with my
cavalry, whom I ordered to lead their horses down the precipitous
banks of the river. I forded the beautiful and widely flowing stream
in an oblique direction, and ascended the rugged and steep banks of
the opposite side by a cleft in the rocks, which admitted of only one
horseman at a time. After gaining the heights, I immediately pushed
forward, and succeeded in capturing 3000 odd fine cattle, but very few
colonial ones among them, and had there been an hour’s more daylight,
I should have taken double the number. Night, however, came on, and I
bivouacked my party on the left bank of the Bashee, ground well adapted
for the security of the captured cattle. This was the third day since I
left the Kei, and the troops had marched 84 miles.

Having observed at dusk that the cattle I could not come up with were
driven in the direction of the Umtata, I resolved, as the moonlight
was greatly in my favour, to move at three o’clock in the morning [13
May], leaving the jaded horses, weakly men, and captured cattle, with
as large a guard as I could afford, in the bivouac. I gave this command
to Captain Ross, of the Cape Mounted Rifles, an old and experienced
Peninsular officer, with orders to concentrate everything as soon as
it was daylight. I told him that he might rely on it the Kafirs would
attempt to retake the cattle.

A most gallant officer and dear friend, Major White, the
Quartermaster-General to the Burgher force, had accompanied me, and had
rendered me great assistance, having also been busily employed each day
in adding to the topographical information so much required in this
country. He proposed to remain in camp to make sketches, and asked me
to give him a guard of one corporal and three men. I desired Captain
Ross to give him six, to keep a sharp look-out on this party, and (as I
anticipated what _did_ occur) to reinforce it in case of need. I also
particularly requested my friend White to go a very short way from
the bivouac, and to keep a sharp look-out, for he might rely upon the
enemy’s showing the utmost activity to retake the cattle and destroy
every man remaining behind.

Upon my return to camp, the first report was that Major White and
all his party were cut off. On the first alarm by a shot, the old
Peninsular officer Ross was broad awake, but his reinforcement only
arrived in time to find the body of poor White lying pierced with
wounds, and all his papers, double-barrelled gun, etc., borne off,
and the party lying murdered near him. In him the Colony lost a man
of superior ability and vast utility, a noble-minded public-spirited
fellow, formerly a lieutenant in our service, and I a friend I was
proud of.

During these disasters in camp, which my foresight had anticipated, I
pushed forward, detaching Captain Bailie with sixty excellent men of
the Hottentot battalion down the Bashee to a distance, then to bring up
his right shoulder and rejoin me on the banks of the Kakke[107] River,
equidistant between the Bashee and Umtata, where I proposed to halt and
cook, if circumstances permitted me. I had no guide, and my movements
were conducted by reference to a very defective map. I marched from the
mountainous bank of the Bashee through a most beautiful and fertile
country, strongly undulating and rich in pasturage, over which was
visible the track of vast numbers of cattle. I pushed on with vigour
until the bed of the Umtata was perfectly visible, but not a head of
cattle was discernible. The whole country had been driven on the alarm
and capture of the previous night. The enemy had assembled in vast
numbers all around me, but I never could get near him, so wary and so
vigilant was he. I succeeded, however, in taking one prisoner, and
two Fingoes came in to me. From them I learned what I indeed saw—the
cattle of the whole country had been driven, previously and by Hintza’s
orders, over the Umtata, those I had captured the night before being,
as it were, the rear-guard.

From the distance marched, the fatigue of the troops, and the powerful
concentration of the immense population all around me, I naturally
began to turn my attention to the security of the bivouac I had left
behind and the captured cattle. I had previously directed Captain
Bailie not to join me, if he found the country I had detached him
into excessively difficult to traverse. He was in that case to follow
the bed of the Bashee a reasonable distance, and then return straight
to the bivouac. My own observation of the country I had marched over
confirmed me in thinking it would be impossible for him to join me. I
therefore made no halt on account of any such expectation.

The enemy on my march back made some attempts on my rear. The officer,
a Lieutenant Bailie, son of the man previously mentioned, a very sharp
fellow, laid himself in ambush in the long grass and several times made
the Kafirs pay dearly for their temerity.

On approaching my bivouac I saw all was secure, and did not anticipate
the extent of the melancholy report I was to receive of the loss of my
friend White, as before described. Captain Ross told me that he had
been kept on the most vigilant alert all day; that every moment he
expected a rush from the immense numbers of Kafirs all round him, and
he was very glad to see me back.

Every moment the numbers increased around me, and their daring to
approach me indicated great confidence. I was perfectly satisfied that
an attempt would be made at night to retake the cattle, and I made my
defensive dispositions accordingly, giving the command of the picquet
to an active officer on whom I could depend—Captain Lacy of the 72nd
Regiment.

Scarcely was it perfectly dark when on came, in the most stealthy
manner, a swarm of Kafirs. Their design was anticipated, however, by
our vigilance, and the assailants were driven back with great loss.
Captain Bailie had not yet returned with his sixty men, and I was very
anxious he should do so, although I felt no great apprehensions for his
safety, as I heard no firing in his direction, and I was well aware he
would not give in without a desperate struggle. However, between eleven
and twelve at night I heard him approaching—joyfully, I admit; for he
and his men had been marching from three o’clock in the morning, and
taking into consideration the previous day’s march, I then considered,
and I now maintain, that these sixty men marched a greater distance
than was ever traversed in the same number of hours by any infantry
in the world. I was aware that unless they fell in with cattle they
would have nothing to eat, and I had their dinners prepared; the active
fellows had eaten nothing from the previous night. Captain Bailie
reported to me that he had had various rencontres with parties of
the enemy; that after dark he was closely invested, and several bold
attempts were made to assagai his men in the very ranks.

Seeing the number of the enemy, their increasing hostility and daring,
the difficulty of the road I had to retire by, being obliged to recross
the Bashee by a path admitting of only one bullock at a time, it became
necessary to make my arrangements with every skill and attention, lest
the enemy should retake my capture, the abandonment of which would be
contrary to the feelings of most of my party. Accordingly I made the
soldiers cook at daylight, and went in among my doubtful troops—the
new levies; for in my _soldiers_ of the 72nd Regiment I had every
confidence, as they deserved. I found my Hottentots, who are very
sharp fellows, perfectly aware of the delicacy of our position, which,
indeed, I did not attempt to conceal, as I wished to impress upon them
that our safety and the getting away of the cattle depended on their
silence and obedience and their never firing a shot without orders.
They always called me “father.” An old spokesman now said to me in
Dutch, “We will do all our father desires, if he will stay near us, and
not go galloping about to have his throat cut; for if we lose him we
are all lost.”

I sent Captain Ross over the river to establish himself on the opposite
bank, and I placed parties in the river above and below the ford to
keep the Kafirs from driving off the cattle, as they are very expert
at this, and a few men could have effected it if once an opening had
occurred.

So soon as the enemy saw me under arms and observed my retrograde
movement, they disposed of themselves in the most dexterous manner,
so as to attack me wherever able, and made frequent feints in one
direction so as to attack in another. But so well were my orders
obeyed, and so alert was every officer and soldier, fully aware that
one error would occasion dire disaster, all these bold attempts were
defeated: and I succeeded in crossing the river to the full extent of
my most sanguine hopes. When I reached the open country about four
miles from the river, the enemy had no cover or ground favourable for
molesting me, and I pursued my march uninterrupted, but with great
caution and in as compact a body as possible. Three thousand cattle
cover a deal of ground, and but for the ability of the Hottentots as
drovers I should never have succeeded in bringing them off.

In all my previous service I was never placed in a position requiring
more cool determination and skill, and as one viewed the handful of
my people compared with the thousands of brawny savages all round us,
screeching their war-cry, calling to their cattle, and indicating by
gesticulations the pleasure they would have in cutting our throats, the
scene was animating to a degree. I continued my march and recrossed the
Kei on the 17th May, and rejoined the main body under his Excellency
Sir B. D’Urban, having completed a march of 218 miles in seven days
and a half, over a rugged and mountainous country, intersected by deep
rivers at the bottom of precipitous ravines and rivulets difficult to
cross, having had to march for hours without any road at all, bringing
with me 3000 captured cattle and 1000 Fingoes, who had flocked to
me with their families for protection, and added considerably to my
difficulties; and all this effected without the loss of an individual
except those whose fatuity, or rather indiscretion, had placed them—so
contrary to my caution and my anticipation of danger—within the grasp
and power of the undaunted and stealthy savage.

On my reaching Sir Benjamin D’Urban, he gave out—

“21 May, 1835.

“The Commander-in-Chief has again the gratification of recording the
military skill and indefatigable activity of Colonel Smith, and the
admirable discipline, zeal, and determined spirit of the troops under
his orders in the recent expedition beyond the mouth of the Bashee.
Upon no former occasion—and there have been many during this campaign
where they have well earned praise for their high qualities—have they
displayed them in a more eminent degree. They marched in seven days
218 miles; overcame all opposition, notwithstanding that this was
obstinately attempted by several thousands of armed and determined
savages; crossed and recrossed a large river of very difficult banks,
and brought off from the further side three thousand head of cattle
which had been plundered from the Colony. They have also achieved a
still more important service in the course of this bold and rapid
inroad: they have rescued from destruction and safely brought in one
thousand of the Fingo race, who from their remote situation had been
before unable to join their countrymen now under British protection,
and who would inevitably have been sacrificed to the fury of the
savages so soon as they should have had leisure to think of them.

“For these services, effected too without loss from the ranks, the
Commander-in-Chief returns his thanks to all the troops employed,
officers and soldiers, and he especially offers them to Colonel Smith.”

The Governor was much depressed at the unfortunate loss of the chief
Hintza by his own treachery, not only from the natural feeling of
humanity towards the individual, but because he fully anticipated the
hold the canting party would take of it in England. Such men, stripping
facts of all collateral circumstances, so changed the features of that
incident as to twist it into the tortuous shape of their own cunning
duplicity. For my own part, I was firmly based in my conscientious
rectitude, of which Almighty God alone was Witness and Judge, and
anything which man could say I disregarded. I admit, however, that at
the moment I did not expect to be called a bloodthirsty murderer in
every print in every quarter of our dominions, or to be shamefully
abandoned by the Minister of the Colonies,[108] whose duty it was in
such assaults honestly to have supported and sustained me against the
misled voice of the public, and not to have sacrificed me at the shrine
of cringing party spirit when I had so faithfully, so zealously, and
so energetically saved for him the Colony of the Cape. He remained
in office long enough to repent and acknowledge his error. My own
rectitude of conscience prevented me ever caring an iota for these
miscreants’ assaults, and I was ultimately thanked by the minister;
although not till I had undergone the ordeal of inquiry by a court of
investigation, levelled at _me_, but assembled on Mr. Southey, by whose
hand the chief lost his life (August and Sept., 1836).

The Governor prepared to move into the colony, as soon as he had taken
possession of the country on the right bank of the Kei, some years
previously wrested from the Hottentots by the Kafirs, and as soon as
he had founded the city of King William’s Town [24 May] immediately
on the left bank of the Buffalo, and established corresponding posts
throughout the newly added “Province of Queen Adelaide.”

The army marched from its position on the Kei, establishing posts on
the line of road towards Grahamstown, and headquarters were established
on the 22nd May, on the site of the new city, King William’s Town, and
remained there till the 11th June, when the Commander-in-Chief returned
to Grahamstown.

During this period, with a small force of cavalry and infantry, I made
some most rapid and extensive marches throughout the whole of the new
province, the object being, in virtue of the proclamation, to compel
the Kafirs to return behind the Kei in the spirit of that conquest by
which they had some years previously crossed it. A more harassing duty
for myself and troops cannot be imagined, although the troops had the
best of the fatigue, for after each excursion I took fresh parties.

The day previously to headquarters returning to Grahamstown a General
Order was published, of which the following is an extract:—

“The Commander-in-Chief publishes three reports made to him on the
1st, 3rd, and 7th inst. [June, 1835] by Colonel Smith _at length_,
because they are full of valuable instruction for young officers
(whose attention, therefore, is earnestly invited to them), setting
forth in the clearest and most emphatic manner how such duties
should be performed, as well with regard to arrangement of plan, as
to activity and energy of execution; and, above all, they furnish a
practical illustration of this great military principle, which should
be foremost in the mind of every soldier, and which so strikingly
characterizes this distinguished officer, ‘Nil actum reputans, siquid
superesset agendum.’”

After thanking the troops, the Order continues—

“It diminishes the regret of the Commander-in-Chief at quitting this
personal command, that he leaves them in charge of Colonel Smith, an
officer in whom they must all have the fullest confidence as well on
account of those high military qualities which they have witnessed,
and which have made him a main cause of the recent successes, as
because they know from experience he is a soldier, and will always
have a watchful care of all that can contribute to their health,
comfort, and convenience.

“Colonel Smith, C.B., is appointed to the command of the District of
the Province of Queen Adelaide and all the troops therein, until his
Majesty’s pleasure be known.”

CHAPTER XXXVII.

HARRY SMITH LEFT IN COMMAND OF THE NEW “PROVINCE OF QUEEN
ADELAIDE” AT KING WILLIAM’S TOWN—DEATH OF LIEUTENANT
BAILIE—HARRY SMITH JOINED BY HIS WIFE—FORAYS ON THE
KAFIRS—CONCLUSION OF PEACE.

Upon my taking the command, my first object was to provide for the
security of the various posts established by his Excellency; to
facilitate communication by improving roads, fords, etc.; then to
endeavour to compel the Kafirs, in conformity with my instructions,
to withdraw beyond the Kei and sue for peace. I endeavoured by every
means in my power to assure them that peace was within their reach, and
that if hostilities were continued, it would be due to them alone. I
most assuredly never allowed the troops one moment’s repose from the
furtherance of the great object—a peaceful possession of the province
wrested from the enemy.

Of the many patrols which I sent out, one consisted of sixty of the
1st Battalion of the Hottentots under Lieutenants Bailie and Biddulph.
I had frequently employed Lieutenant Bailie on such duties. His
achievements were always to my perfect satisfaction, and I had implicit
confidence in his judgment, discretion, and bravery. The evening this
patrol went out, I proceeded some distance with it, impressing upon
Lieut. Bailie the necessity there was for vigilance. Above all he must
never divide his party, as utility and safety consisted in union. With
this injunction I left him, and for ever. It will appear that this
excellent officer had received some information by which he hoped to
effect great service, and he divided his sixty men into two bodies,
thirty with himself, and thirty with Biddulph. They were to meet at
a given point of rendezvous well known to both. Biddulph reached the
rendezvous, but Bailie’s party never again appeared. They were cut
off to a man. Biddulph, having heard no firing, after waiting for
some time, believed Bailie to have returned to my camp. I had so much
confidence in this officer’s ability, that I was not in the slightest
apprehension for his safety, and as to sending out parties in quest
of him, I had no clue whatever, for Biddulph could not even give an
opinion where he could have proceeded to. Afterwards, on the conclusion
of peace, it was ascertained that with his small party he protracted
a most gallant and unflinching resistance for four days against many
hundreds of the savages, who had hemmed him in in one of the deep
woody ravines of the Tabendoda[109] Mountains, a resistance which did
not cease till his ammunition was exhausted. It is most extraordinary
that, though I sent patrols in various directions, no one ever heard
the report even of a musket.

Being thus established “Governor” of a Province, and my dear, faithful,
adventurous, and campaigning wife being impatient under her unusual
separation, we resolved with mutual gratification that she should
start to join me—a distance of nearly 800 miles over a wild country of
bad roads, difficult passes, and deep rivers. But what will not woman
undertake when actuated by love and duty? Such distances are travelled
in large covered or tilted waggons drawn by ten, twelve, fourteen, and
even twenty horses according to the road. The roads may be of deep
sand, hard, or over mountains; but they are invariably rough. One of
the judges’ circuit waggons was kindly placed at my wife’s disposal,
and she, her maid, dogs, and two faithful servants started. Reliefs of
horses were collected on the road at the usual stages by authority, my
wife paying for the same. She travelled at an average rate of 70 miles
a day, receiving, wherever she stopped the night or for refreshment,
every attention from the families of the Dutch Boers, most of whom
were, or had been, under my command, and with whom I was very popular.
She reached Grahamstown much fatigued from the jolting of so unwieldy a
thing as a Cape waggon, but no other vehicle can bear the shock caused
by the roughness of the mountain roads. On reaching Grahamstown she
found it necessary to rest for a day or two, after which the troops of
Volunteers spontaneously prayed to be her escort to Fort Willshire,
about halfway between Grahamstown and King William’s Town, the furthest
point to which I could venture to proceed from my command. On the day
we were to meet, so punctual were we both that her waggon and my escort
appeared on two heights on either side of Fort Willshire at the same
instant, and we were again united in gratitude to Almighty God.

The next day we proceeded to the seat of my government, King William’s
Town, where my dear campaigning wife was again under canvas, surrounded
by all the circumstance of war. There was, however, little “pomp” in
my posts, every man who strayed a few yards from the cantonment being
murdered to a certainty. We only occupied the ground we stood on, and
chains of sentries were round us each night, as hundreds of Kafirs
were watching every post night and day for the purposes of murder and
plunder, and most daring attempts were frequently made to carry off
cattle from the very centre of our camp. My tents were near the garden
of an old missionary station which had been burnt during the war; and
in that garden two Kafirs were shot while attempting to steal my cows.

Close to King William’s Town, and somewhat under cover of it, I had
a large Fingo encampment. One night the Kafirs in great force made a
desperate attempt to destroy them and their camp and carry off their
cattle. But the Fingoes, even before the picquet in readiness for the
purpose could reach them, not only defended themselves most gallantly,
but bravely beat the Kafirs, left them lying dead in their camp, and
pursued them until daylight. I shall never forget the screeching,
yelling, hooting, Tower of Babel noise made in the dead of night by so
many hundred desperate savages fighting with every degree of animosity
that bitter hatred and enmity inspire. But so well did the Fingoes
conduct themselves, that no further attempt was ever made to molest
them.

In all the many forays I made on these determined barbarians, I
endeavoured to impress upon them, through the medium of their women,
that submission and a desire on their part for peace would be readily
listened to, and that they alone would be the culprits if the horrors
of war continued. The many forays I ordered are best described in a
General Order, of which the following is an extract:—

“7 August.

“With reference to the General Order of the 1st July, when the
Commander-in-Chief had last the satisfaction of thanking the troops
in the Province of Queen Adelaide, he now desires to record his
approbation of their continued and gallant and excellent services
as reported by Colonel Smith during the latter part of June and the
whole of the month of July. These have been hardly and brilliantly
achieved, with great loss to the enemy and the capture of 5000 head
of cattle. And for these the Commander-in-Chief desires to express to
the officers and soldiers his approbation and his thanks, which are
especially due to Colonel Smith.”

If ever these anecdotes meet the eye of the public, let it bear
in mind that although as an _united_ enemy nothing could be so
contemptible as the poor athletic barbarians, yet to inflict any
punishment upon them the most rapid and gigantic marches were
requisite, and every patrol must be conducted on the most vigilant
and scientific principles. Most enterprising men were watching every
movement, ready to take advantage of inactivity or error. On one
occasion a most desperate attempt, boldly planned and executed, was
made on a redoubt near the frontier, and only repulsed by the soldiers
of the 72nd Regiment hand to hand. On the whole a more harassing duty
was rarely undertaken.

My Hottentot levies—the 1st and 2nd Provisional Battalions (not
enlisted soldiers)—began to be very tired of the war. The excitement
of cattle-hunting no longer existed; and in lieu of it, when I sent
them into the bush they encountered an enemy fully as gallant as
themselves. After the loss of Lieutenant Bailie’s party, too, they
became somewhat cowed; and I never sent any of them out without a
proportion of our own redcoats. From the various communications I began
to receive through the women, it was evident that the Kafirs also
were heartily tired of war. In order, therefore, to accelerate peace,
I determined to make from Fort Cox (commanded by the gallant officer
of that name) a desperate and very extended attempt on the tribes of
the great chiefs Macomo and Tyalie, who were in that neighbourhood.
I therefore reinforced Major Cox with all the troops I could spare,
and sent him very detailed instructions, dwelling particularly on
the attainment of my object, peace. Any overture was to be received
cordially, but no cessation of hostilities was to be permitted without
previous communication with me; which a few hours would effect.
This enterprise was so ably conducted by my gallant comrade, and so
energetically supported by officers and soldiers, that Macomo sued for
peace; and I consented to a provisional cessation of hostilities whilst
I communicated with the Governor at Grahamstown.

Sir Benjamin immediately sent out Captain Warden and Major Cox. Both
officers were personally known to Macomo and liked by him; and he with
his council and Tyalie met them beyond our posts [15 August].[110] The
basis of the treaty was then communicated to the chiefs, who consented
to almost everything, the articles were taken to Grahamstown by Captain
Warden, and Major Cox, to my deep regret, sent back the reinforcements
I had furnished him with. I was so convinced that the chiefs would not
conclude a peace on these terms, that I marched back to Cox the troops
(or rather fresh ones), and wrote to the Governor to request that, in
the event of Macomo, as I anticipated, demurring to the terms, I might
be sent to conclude the peace. The whole turned out as I expected.
Macomo, seeing we were willing to make peace, at his second meeting
with Cox and Warden [25 August] rose in his demands, and was most
violent and even insulting in his conduct. Warden, in conformity to his
orders, came to me 30 miles off; and at dusk I was in my saddle, and
troops were marching in all directions on certain points around Macomo.

On my arrival at Fort Cox, I sent a summons to Macomo to meet me with
his chiefs in front of my picquet, describing to him the position of
my troops, and pointing out that the line of his retreat over the Kei,
previously left open for him, was now intercepted. I added that if he
was not with me in two hours after the receipt of my message, I would
sweep him and all his host off the face of the earth. This bold menace
had the desired effect, and he speedily met me.

I went out [6 September] with only Cox, Warden, and my A.D.C., to show
I did not anticipate treachery, although I had some able support hard
by. On meeting me, Macomo was in a state of terrible agitation, as was
his brother Tyalie. The spot was near the place called the grave of
their father, the great chief Gaika. I therefore, in their own mode of
incantation, invoked Gaika to our council, for whom they had profound
respect and veneration, and then most abruptly demanded a repetition
of his dying injunction to his sons Macomo and Tyalie, which was to
remain in peace and amity with the English and never make war upon
them. I would not allow the chiefs to have an opinion, much less to
give one, saying, “You made war in the most brutal and unjust manner
upon our colony, without observing _your own_ and _our_ unvaried
custom of declaring war, but burning, murdering, and spoiling all you
approached. Beaten in war, you sue for peace, and peace is granted to
you. On a second meeting called to ratify it, you rise in your demands.
You are insolent and overbearing to two officers for whom you profess
respect and esteem. Now I read the only terms and conditions on which
I make peace with you. Unless you accept them after the several days
you have had to deliberate on them—for they are the very same articles
you previously accepted without any reserve—you shall return to your
people. I give you half an hour to reach them, after which I will
instantly attack you, and never cease until you are all destroyed. I
am here to command, not to _listen_.” (“Listen” is a most impressive
expression in the Kafir language and habit. It means everything.)

This decided mode of dealing with these treacherous savages, with
whom self-will alone is law, astonished them, and they all agreed to
the former treaty. Tyalie, an ignorant fellow, began to talk, but I
shut his mouth in a voice of thunder, and threatened to make peace
with the others and exclude him, which settled his presumption. The
whole body—chiefs and council—then formally ratified the treaty, and
all accompanied me to Fort Cox, where I regaled them with all in my
power. I told them they should soon see the difference in me between
a friend and an enemy; that as I had waged vigorous war on them, so
would I teach them by every kindness to become men and shake off their
barbarism.

The Governor came to Fort Willshire, halfway between Fort Cox and
Grahamstown, to meet the chiefs [dates of meetings, 11 and 17
September]. The tribes had become, in consequence of the war, somewhat
unruly, and I do believe that at the moment the chiefs, with every
desire, had not the power to restrain many lawless and predatory acts
of their followers, pending the final arrangement of the new order of
things.

On the conclusion of the treaty of peace, a deputation was sent to
Kreili and his mother, Nomsa. Kreili was now the great chief in place
of his father Hintza. If a Kafir has any heart, this youth Kreili
showed one on all after-occasions to me, for my kindness to him when
he was in our camp with his father. I ever found him docile and
reasonable, and ever had paramount authority with him.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

HARRY SMITH’S ATTEMPTS AT CIVILIZING THE KAFIRS—THE CHIEFS
MADE BRITISH MAGISTRATES—A CENSUS TAKEN—A POLICE FORCE
ESTABLISHED—A GREAT MEETING OF CHIEFS—WITCHCRAFT FORBIDDEN—A
CHIEF PUNISHED FOR DISOBEDIENCE—A REBELLIOUS CHIEF AWED INTO
SUBMISSION—AGRICULTURE AND COMMERCE INTRODUCED—NAKEDNESS
DISCOUNTENANCED—BURIAL OF THE DEAD ENCOURAGED—BUYING OF
WIVES CHECKED—HOPES OF A GENERAL CONVERSION TO CHRISTIANITY.

During the assembly of the chiefs and their great men at Fort
Willshire, I had many and long conferences with them. They had become
British subjects at their own request, and now each chief was appointed
a magistrate in his own tribe and district, with orders to look up to
me and report to me as the Governor of the Province. To introduce a new
order of things diametrically opposed to their former habits required
much consideration; and the success of the undertaking depended on
the _gradual_ introduction of innovation and change. I joyfully and
enthusiastically entered upon the task of rescuing from barbarism
thousands of our fellow-creatures endowed by nature with excellent
understanding and powers of reasoning as regards the _present_; for
there was only one man among them—Umhala, the chief of the T’slambie
tribe—who had an idea of the _result_ of measures, or futurity. I saw
that innovations must be so introduced as to render them agreeable, not
obnoxious, and that anything acquired by conciliatory and palatable
means was an important point gained. I requested each chief to give me
one of his most able councillors, and several messengers on whom he
could depend, to accompany me to King William’s Town, now the “Great
Kraal” or seat of government, that we might freely communicate, or,
in their expression, “that they might have my ear.” This they all
cheerfully assented to. The Governor returned to Grahamstown [25
Sept.], I to my “Great Kraal” with my new court, and the chiefs to
their tribes.

By this arrangement much of the territory, indeed almost the whole,
between the Kei and the Keiskamma was restored to the previous
occupants. But the labour and difficulty I had to prevent locations on
the tracts of country reserved for military purposes and sites of towns
is not to be described. Frequently I have been compelled to resort
to very harsh measures; but I never would admit of any arrangement
bordering on a compromise. I started on the principle of Yes and
No, Right and Wrong. I was ever inflexible, and I ever strove most
energetically to establish that faith in my word and uncompromising
justice which aided me beyond anything to effect what I ultimately
did. I closed the door to all appeal or reference to events which
occurred prior to the conclusion of peace. In their own words, “the
old kraal was shut,” never to be reopened. It was fortunate for me
that I adopted this policy, for no records of the Court of Chancery
embraced more retrospect than my new subjects were disposed to. They
were all by nature subtle and acute lawyers. The councillor given me by
Macomo was an old man of great ability; Lords Bacon, Thurlow, and Eldon
were not more acquainted with our laws than was this old fellow with
the laws of his people. He had been Gaika’s Prime Minister and Lord
Chancellor, and was attached to the English. With this old fellow I
spent six hours a day for several successive days, until I made myself
thoroughly acquainted with their laws and rights of person. Although
these closely resembled the law of Moses given in Leviticus, and, if
correctly administered, were excellent, I soon discovered that might
was right, that the damnable forgery of sorcery and witchcraft was
the _primum mobile_ of oppression and extortion, and that under the
cloak of punishment for this offence there was committed oppression of
so barbarous and tyrannical a kind as it was hardly to be conceived
that beings endowed with reason could perpetrate on each other. The
following sketch will give some idea of what commonly takes place.

In Kafirland the witch-doctors and the rain-makers are in the
confidence of their respective chiefs. Whenever any individual renders
himself obnoxious to the chief or any of his family or influential men,
he is accused of bewitching either the chief, his wife, or child, or
cattle, or any other thing, but no one is ever considered capable of
this sort of sorcery but a man rich in goods, viz. cattle.

A witch-dance is then called, special care being taken to summon the
individual upon whom it is intended to affix the crime. An old hag,
perfectly naked, comes forth; the assembled people dance round her in a
circle; she is, in their expression, to “smell out” the person who has
bewitched the supposed sufferers. After a variety of gesticulations,
this hag approaches the individual already named by the chief, and
literally _smells_ him, proclaiming him the culprit. If he is very
rich, the chief and his _pagate_, or councillors, are satisfied with
“eating him up” (the native expression for having all one’s property
confiscated under an accusation of witchcraft); if not so, or if he is
very obnoxious, they have various punishments, such as putting him at
once to death by a species of hanging, or rather strangulating by a
leather thong, throwing the poor wretch on the ground upon his back,
tethering his arms apart above his head, his legs apart and fully
extended, then bringing large quantities of large black ants,[111]
throwing them upon him, and leaving him exposed until the pain and
anguish of the stings put an end to his existence; burning the body
all over with large flat stones (the poor wretch on whose account I
punished Umhala so severely[112] had thirty large places burned on his
person); taking the accused to the edge of a particular precipice and
hurling him down; and several other methods. No individual, man, woman,
or child, is safe. The witch-doctors are in the confidence of the
chief, as much as the Inquisitors are in that of the Pope, and no more
arbitrary oppression is exercised on earth than by these Kafir chiefs
and witch-doctors.

I soon saw that the witch-doctors and rain-makers, _i.e._ fellows who
professed and were believed to be capable of bringing down rain in time
of drought, would be my formidable opponents in introducing a new order
of things, as their supposed power, if I succeeded, must ultimately be
annihilated.

Having thus made myself acquainted with the laws of the barbarous
people whom I was to govern and lead on to become civilized beings
and British subjects, I was in a position to begin proceedings. At
my suggestion, the Governor appointed magistrates to each tribe,
consisting principally of officers of the army. With Macomo and Tyalie
and the widow Suta, and with the heir-apparent Sandilli, Gaika’s
young son, I had Captain Stretch; with Dushani’s tribe, the widow
Nonibe,[113] and her son, I had Captain Southey; with Umhala and the
T’slambie tribes, Captain Rawstorne.

The missionaries all came back to their respective missions, and with
the magistrates, the missionaries, and other aid afforded by the kind
attention paid by Sir Benjamin D’Urban to all my wants, I proceeded to
take a nominal census of the whole male population arrived at puberty,
with the number of their women, children, etc. At first the Kafirs
were much opposed to this, but through the aid of my councillor Ganya,
the common sense of which they have a great share, and my patient
explanation of the utility of the measure, I succeeded. I found I had
upwards of 100,000 barbarians to reclaim who had no knowledge of right
or wrong beyond arbitrary power, desire, and self-will. To attach the
people to the new order of things was of vast importance; to lessen the
power of the chiefs equally so; but this had to be gradual, for if I
removed the hereditary restraint of the chiefs, I should open the gates
to an anarchy which I might not be able to quell.

A fortunate circumstance occurred, which enabled me to make gigantic
steps. The Kafirs have a barbarous festival, when all the maidens
are compelled to attend to undergo a sort of “Rape of the Sabines.”
These maidens, during the festival, are appropriated by the chiefs
to themselves and their followers, and then sent back to their
families. Old Ganya, who came to tell me this, said, “Now you have
an opportunity, by preventing this brutal custom, to restrain the
lawlessness of the chiefs, and to win the hearts of their subjects.” He
added that there were many fathers of families in camp, who had come to
appeal to me for protection. I immediately gave them an audience,[114]
as I invariably did every one who desired to see me. I acquired great
ascendancy by first ascertaining through the interpreter the grounds
on which they had come, and when they were ushered into the presence,
exclaiming, “Ah, you want so and so!” The poor wretches were much
astonished at this, believing that I had the power to divine their
thoughts; and I frequently saved myself from listening to a string of
lies very plausibly linked together.

I also established with every magistrate a police of Kafirs, and I had
a considerable number with me, to apprehend delinquents and culprits
and summon the heads of the kraals. These police carried with them
from the magistrate a long stick with a brass knob. This is a custom
of their own. Fakoo has a cat’s tail on his wands of office. At
headquarters I had a very long stick with a _large knob_, which was
always held by my Gold Stick when I was in council, or upon trials,
cases of appeal, mandates, issuing proclamations, etc. And when I
seized the stick, held it myself, and gave a decisive order, that was
formal and irrevocable. For when once I had decided, no power could
induce me to swerve from that decision.

When the police were out, if they were treated with contumely, and
the head of a kraal refused obedience or compliance, this stick was
stuck in his cattle-kraal, and he was obliged to bring it himself
to the authority whence it emanated; while so long as it remained
in the kraal, the proprietor was under _the ban of the Empire_,
excommunicated, or outlawed. The fear they had of this wand was
literally magical. I never had to use military aid in support of my
police but once, and then I did so, more as a display of the rapidity
with which I could turn out troops and rush them to the spot than from
any absolute necessity. Such was the respect for these policemen, that
the neighbours of a delinquent would voluntarily turn out in their
support, and I always rewarded such support by a present of cattle from
my treasury (formed from fines levied for offences).

Having now begun to have some weight and influence among the whole of
the tribes, and having taught the people to look up to me rather than
to their own chiefs, I had next to re-establish the power of the chiefs
as derived from myself. I therefore, with the sanction of the Governor,
resolved on a great meeting on the 7th January of all the chiefs,
their relatives, councillors, rain-makers, and as many as chose to
attend. I had previously prepared English clothes for Macomo, Tyalie,
Umhala, and some others, with a medal, which was to be the emblem of
their magisterial power. Some thousands assembled in a most orderly
and obedient manner. I had taken very good care to strengthen my force
at headquarters, for I made it an axiom never to place myself in such
a situation with these volatile savages as not to be able to enforce
obedience to my commands like lightning.

I gave them a sort of epitome of their own history, especially of the
Kafir wars. I dwelt particularly on their cruelty and treachery in
the late war, and reminded them that they had voluntarily proposed to
become British subjects. I then administered the oath of allegiance to
all the chiefs in the name of their respective peoples. Two councillors
from Kreili (the new Hintza and Great Father) whom I had invited to the
meeting, proposed that they should take the oath of allegiance too,
which of course I could not accept, all the inhabitants beyond the Kei
being independent. It is a curious fact that after this meeting had
been held, and the messengers from Kreili had disseminated throughout
the tribe the improved state of things under my rule, Kreili himself
and many of his influential men were most anxious to become British
subjects, and I received many deputations to that effect.

To return, however, to my meeting. I described the duties of the
magistrates, British and native, and the necessity of the people’s
obedience, and declared that, while no one should be “eaten up”[115]
or any way punished except for robbery, etc., I should oblige them
to be obedient to the laws and the jurisdiction of their respective
magistrates.[116]

After this meeting, my system began to work with the greatest
facility, and the rain-makers, who had most scrupulously kept aloof
from me, began to pay me visits, particularly the chief of that
department of deceit. I received these first visitors with great ease
and ceremony of reception, made them all presents, and dismissed them
without any discussion of their power and respectability. At the great
meeting I had prohibited every branch of witchcraft, so that the
rain-makers, being fully aware that the axe was laid to the root of
their power, thought it as well to worship the rising sun and court me.
Knowing that the presents would bring back the great rain-maker, and
induce the little rain-makers to come to me, I was prepared, on the
visit of the great one, to prove to him the fallacy and deceit by which
he led the people to believe that he possessed a power which he knew he
did not.

One day when the great rain-maker was in my camp, and many others, as
well as an unusually large number of Kafirs, I assembled them all for
the avowed purpose of hearing a disputation between the “Great Chief”
or “Father,” as they invariably called me, and the rain-makers. My
first question to them was, “So you can make rain, can you?” I never
saw in men’s countenances more caution. I said, “Speak out, speak
freely to your Father.” The great rain-maker said he could. I then
showed him one by one all the articles on my writing-table, knives,
scissors, etc., my clothes, my hat, boots, etc., etc., asking, “Can
you make this?” “No.” “Do you know how it is made?” “No.” Having
explained everything and how it was made through the medium of my
invaluable interpreter, Mr. Shepstone, I then called for a tumbler of
water. I showed all the people the water, and asked the rain-makers if
what was in the glass was of the same quality as the water or rain they
invoked. All agreed “Yes.” Their anxiety was intense. I then threw down
the water on the dry ground, which immediately absorbed it, and desired
the rain-makers to put it again in the tumbler. They were aghast, and
said, “We cannot.” In a voice of thunder, I said, “Put the rain again
in this glass, I say.” I then turned to the spectators. “Now you see
how these impostors have deceived you. Now listen to the ‘_Word_.’”
(This is the phrase they use in giving orders and decisions on all
points of law and in trials.) I took my wand of office, planted it
violently before me, and said, “Any man of my children hereafter who
believes in witchcraft, or that any but God the Great Spirit can make
rain, I will ‘eat him up.’” I then left the meeting and the rain-makers
thunderstruck and confounded.

On principle, however, I never directly contradicted or prohibited
their customs, or left them without hope or a friend; so in about two
hours I sent for the great rain-maker and two or three others,—clever,
acute fellows all, and I said, “Your Father has now proved to the
people that you are impostors, but as you have been taught to fancy
that you possess a power you have not, I must provide another and
an honest livelihood for you, and I shall expect you to assist me in
administering the new and true laws.” I then made each presents, giving
them so many bullocks apiece—a stock-in-trade. These fellows were many
of them of great use to me afterwards. By the line of conduct I had
pursued, I had carried them with me instead of rendering them my secret
and bitter enemies.

In Umhala’s tribe, I heard of an awful case of his “eating up” a
man for witchcraft, and afterwards cruelly burning him with red-hot
stones. The poor wretch, so soon as he could move, came to me and
showed me the cicatrized wounds all over his body—how he had lived
was a wonder. I kept him closely concealed. I sent for Umhala and his
English magistrate and council to come to me immediately. This Umhala
was a man of superior intellect, and the only one who could judge cause
and effect, and future results. He never quailed in the slightest,
as all others did, under my most violent animadversions. He gave me
more trouble to render obedient than all the other chiefs. Still,
he respected me, and I him; and he afterwards showed more real and
permanent affection for me than the others.

Upon his arrival, he did all in his power to find out what I wanted
him for, and he apprehended the real cause. So soon as he and all
his people were assembled in my courthouse, I went in _with my wand
behind_, borne by my great councillor Ganya. Umhala then saw something
was coming. I came to the point at once, as was my custom. “Umhala, did
I not give the word—no more witchcraft?” He boldly answered, “You did.”
“Then how dare you, Umhala, one of my magistrates sworn to be obedient
to my law, infringe the Word?” He stoutly denied it. I then brought
in the poor afflicted sufferer, and roared out, “Umhala, devil, liar,
villain, you dare to deceive me. Deny now what I accuse you of.” He
then confessed all, and began to palliate his conduct. To this I would
not listen, but seized my wand to give the Word. “Hear you, Umhala! you
have eaten a man up. Give back every head of his cattle, and ten head
of your own for having eaten him up. And you forfeit ten head more to
me, the Great Chief, for my government.” He was perfectly unmoved, but
I saw that he intended to do no such thing. I then deprived him of his
medal of office, and said, “Now go and obey my orders,” and I desired
the English magistrate to report in two days that he had done so. He
had 30 miles to return to his kraal.

According to my custom, I sent the “news” all over Kafirland
immediately. I sent out a Court Circular daily. I had no secrets. This
they much admired. There never were such newsmongers. Their greeting is
“Indaba” (“the news”). The mode adopted to give the news was by so many
messengers running out at night-time in different directions, waving
their cloaks or karosses. The whole country is strongly undulating,
and there are always a number of fellows on the look-out. My messenger
called out the news. Others took it up, and so it passed from hill
to hill by a sort of telegraph; and every day I could communicate
information throughout the whole province in a few hours. This open
procedure was of vast importance.

The hour arrived when the news of Umhala’s obedience should be received
by me. The report came that Umhala had not obeyed my order nor did
Captain Rawstorne think he would. This letter was brought me by two
Kafir messengers. I had held two troops of cavalry ready to march to
reinforce the post of Fort Wellington at Umhala’s kraal. I sounded
the assembly, and in five minutes they were on the march. When I
ordered Rawstorne to “eat up” the chief, a thing never done before
in Kafirland, my old councillor Ganya asked me in consternation what
orders I had given, and when I told him, he said, “Then war is again
over the land.” For in old times such an act as seizing any of the
cattle of a chief was regarded as a formal declaration of war. I roared
out, “Either obedience or war. _I will be Chief_, and Umhala shall
see it, and every chief and man in Kafirland.” I seized all Umhala’s
cattle, and I desired the magistrate cautiously to count every head,
to give him a regular receipt, and send a copy to me. The cattle were
to be guarded by Umhala’s own people. I saw that now was my time to
establish or lose my power throughout my government. For this Umhala
was much looked up to throughout Kafirland, and regarded as the boldest
warrior, having distinguished himself by many daring acts in the war.

The news was sent out, and I immediately summoned to my “Court” Macomo,
Tyalie, Suta, and Gazela, a chief of whom I must speak hereafter. I
knew that this would so intimidate all parties that there would be no
danger of a war. Scarcely was Umhala’s cattle seized than he sent in
succession the most penitent messages, promising to obey my orders and
never transgress again. I would not “listen,” but desired Umhala to
come to me, and meet the chiefs for whom I had sent. He boldly, though
penitently, came, as did all the chiefs I had sent for.

I then had a council, told everything that had occurred, and asked if
Umhala merited what I, the Great Chief, had done to him, being one of
the magistrates who had sworn allegiance and obedience. There was a
mutter of assent. I had previously instructed Ganya to watch my eye and
to speak in mitigation of punishment. I said, “Now, Umhala, you see
how insignificant you are, unless obedient, and how powerful I am. I
will be obeyed, and I will ‘eat up’ every chief who dares disobey me or
sanction witchcraft. Here is your medal of magistrate, which I place
under my foot.”

The crowd were perfectly petrified, and looked at old Ganya, who
stood up and made a most eloquent speech. (Some of the Kafirs speak
beautifully.) He dwelt on their own desire to be British subjects and
my exertions for them; and then turned most judiciously to Macomo and
Tyalie. “Now, sons of my old chief, whose councillor I was, the great
Gaika, speak to our Chief for Umhala; and I hope he will ‘listen.’”
Macomo instantly stood up, and spoke capitally and to the purpose.
Umhala sat unmoved, until I said, “Now, Umhala, all depends on you. Can
I ‘listen’ or not?” He spoke modestly, but powerfully. I made a merit
of forgiving him, put his medal again on his neck, ordered his cattle
to be restored the moment he had returned the cattle of the burnt man
and paid the fines; and I immediately sent off the news throughout the
province. Umhala returned, received all his cattle, and reported to me
that he had got every head back, and had paid his fines and restored
the cattle to the sufferer.

This decision and determination established most effectively my
absolute power. I was fully prepared for some underhand work on
the part of the chiefs, and it was speedily started through the
instrumentality of Macomo; but the _people_ whom I protected were with
me, and nothing occurred which I was not informed of immediately.

Macomo had driven his cattle to graze over the Keiskamma contrary
to treaty and my orders, whereupon I strongly desired that he would
never do it again. This offended the gentleman, a restless, turbulent,
uncontrollable spirit, and he sent to all the other chiefs to say that
if they would join, he would strive for independence. At all the
courts this message was received most contemptuously. Tyalie turned
the messenger from his kraal; Suta and young Sandilli were indignant
and would not “listen”; Umhala listened, but his council opposed the
measure, and a subordinate chief of Umhala’s, a noble little fellow,
Gazela, stood up and spoke out like a man. “You, Umhala, and all know
how I fought during the war, and never was for giving in until I saw
we had no chance of success. Macomo made peace. He has received more
kindness than all of us put together. He is now false, and wants to
make us break the word given to our Great Chief,” etc.

All this I knew in a few hours. I sent for Macomo, received him as
usual, and said, “I have a fable to tell you.” They are very fond of
speaking in parables themselves. I then recounted a tale, viz. myself
and himself. I never saw a creature in such a state of agitation.
“Now,” I said, “if you were the Great Chief, what would you do?” He
threw himself at my feet, bathed in tears. “Ah, Macomo,” I said, “if
I were only to say the Word, your people would no longer _know you_.”
Oh, how Ganya did abuse him! “Ah, cry,” he said; “your tears can’t
wash away your sins. You caused the last war, disregarding the dying
words of Gaika. You are now treated with every kindness, yet treachery
and that same restlessness which has plunged the Colony and Kafirland
in blood, still guide you.” I said, “Rise, Macomo, and go. I will
not touch my stick and give the Word for _two hours_. I must cool.
Englishmen are generous, but they must be just to all. I must consider
for two hours how my actions may be guided, but for the good of all my
children, _go_.”

He never had such a lesson. I sent for him and forgave him, with a
full assurance that on the next offence I would eat him up and banish
him over the Kei. I sent off the news, and my authority was ever after
perfectly undisputed.

I now began to turn my attention to teaching them cultivation and
the use of money. In the former I had but little difficulty compared
with what I anticipated, although previously their fields had been
cultivated by their women in a miserable manner. I gave them Hottentots
to teach them, and I had soon several chiefs with ploughs and good
yokes of oxen. The chief Gazela, a man of great use to me, and with
more idea of honesty than any one, had also a commercial turn. I proved
to him that it was by the use of money that _we_ became a great people,
and could make everything and do everything, and I made him perfectly
understand our banking system—which I could induce no other Kafir to
attend to. Gazela sold me some bullocks for the Commissary. Afterwards
he let out horses to people travelling at so much a day, and he induced
others to sell me cattle; this I considered the greatest step towards
civilization.

The missionaries had all returned to me, and were excellent good
men, doing all in their power. The chief Tyalie, in the English
clothes I had given him, attended divine service every Sunday, and
the missionaries had a considerable degree of moral influence; but as
to spiritual instruction or conversion, few indeed were the converts.
Macomo knew more theology than many Christians, but was still a
perfect heathen. Had I remained long enough, as cultivation and sale
progressed, I would have built churches, and by feasts and slaughtering
cattle have induced all influential men to attend; I would have had
schools, and, by educating the children, would have reared a generation
of Christians, but to convert the aged barbarian was a hopeless task.

The world does not produce a more beautiful race of blacks than these
Kafirs, both men and women; their figures and eyes are beautiful beyond
conception, and they have the gait of princes. It was one of my great
endeavours to make them regard appearing naked as a grievous sin,
now that they were British subjects; and no one was ever permitted
in my camp, much less in my presence, but dressed in his karosse.
This karosse is the skin of a bullock, but beautifully dressed so as
to be pliant and soft, and then ornamented by fur, beads, buttons,
etc. The head-dresses of the chiefs’ wives are really beautiful. No
creatures on earth are more the votaries of fashion than these Kafirs.
In Grahamstown I could procure no beads and buttons of the mode of the
day, but great quantities exceedingly cheap, which the Kafirs would
not buy because they were out of fashion. I therefore bought up the
whole. I had always about me some of the rejected buttons and of the
blue beads that had been once their delight, and I found fault with
every button that was not of my shape and every bead that was not of my
colour. The discarded buttons and the blue beads were soon established
as the _haut ton_ of fashion.

My wife, who took equal interest in the reform of these poor barbarians
with myself, was always surrounded by numbers of the chiefs’ wives
and hangers-on, particularly the queens Suta and Nonibe (the former
was Gaika’s widow, the latter Dushani’s, and both had sons in their
minority). She taught many of them needlework, and was for hours daily
explaining to them right and wrong, and making them little presents, so
that she became so popular she could do anything with them.

The Kafirs have a horror of burying their dead, or even touching
them. They will carry out a dying creature from their kraal, mother
or father, wife or brother, and leave him exposed to wild beasts and
vultures for days, if nature does not sink in the mean time. I not
only prohibited this, but I had three or four Kafirs who died in my
camp regularly buried. (Many came to me to be cured of diseases.) In
each case I made my Kafir messengers dig the grave, and I, with my
interpreter, read the funeral service over the dead. Then the news was
sent over the land—the Great Chief does it, and whenever any one came
and told me he had _buried_ his deceased relative (I took care to
_prove_ it, though), I gave him a bullock, and sent the news over the
land.

The Levitical law as to uncleanness is fully in force among the Kafirs,
and they practise circumcision, but not until the age of puberty. It is
a great ceremony, after which the youths are able to marry, provided
they have enough cattle to buy a wife from the father. (A plurality of
wives is tolerated. Macomo had eleven, all very handsome women.) This
buying of wives is the great source of all robbery and inroads into the
Colony. I just began to prohibit it gradually by making the parents of
the bride and bridegroom contribute to the establishment of the newly
married pair, and myself giving a present.

I directed the magistrates to decide all cases of law themselves, but
when they were in any doubt, to send me, for my approval, the parties
and the opinion or decision proposed to be given. This strengthened
their power and also mine, for whatever I once decided on, I never
revoked, and admitted of no appeal or renewal of the subject.

Having thus gained an ascendancy over these people never attempted
before, my mind was dwelling on the great and important subject of
their conversion to Christianity, and many is the conference I had with
the missionaries upon the subject. Of ultimately effecting a general
conversion I never despaired, but I was convinced it could only be
through the educating of the youth and at the same time introducing
habits of industry and rational amusement. The Kafirs, like the
Hottentots, are great lovers of music and have remarkably good ears.
I have been wonderfully amused at observing the effect the playing
of our bands had on many who had never heard them before. Some would
laugh immoderately, some cry, some stand riveted to the spot, others
in a sort of vibrating convulsion, others would dance and sing, all
were animated and excited beyond measure. When poor Hintza heard the
bagpipes of the 72nd, he closed his ears with his hands and said, “This
is to make people cry.[117] I like the bugles and trumpets. When I hear
them I feel like a man.” Thus with the aid of music I should have made
some advance towards Christian conversion.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

LORD GLENELG ORDERS THE ABANDONMENT OF THE PROVINCE OF QUEEN
ADELAIDE, AND APPOINTS CAPTAIN STOCKENSTROM TO SUCCEED
HARRY SMITH ON THE FRONTIER—GRIEF OF THE KAFIRS AT THE
CHANGE—JOURNEY OF HARRY SMITH AND HIS WIFE TO CAPE TOWN—HE
IS EXONERATED BY LORD GLENELG, AND RECEIVES TESTIMONIALS
FOR HIS SERVICES TO THE COLONY—LEAVES CAPE TOWN JUNE, 1840,
ON BEING APPOINTED ADJUTANT-GENERAL OF THE QUEEN’S ARMY IN
INDIA.

In the midst, however, of all I had effected, and all my visions of
what I could effect, the most crooked policy ever invented by the most
wicked Machiavellians blasted all my hopes for the benefit of the
100,000 barbarians committed to my rule, and the bright prospect of
peace and tranquillity for the Colony (for the frontier inhabitants
began to be in a state of security which was security indeed).

The Minister for the Colonies, Lord Glenelg, an excellent, worthy, and
able man, but led by a vile party, under the cloak of sanctity and
philanthropy, directed the Province of Queen Adelaide to be restored
to barbarism, the allegiance the Kafirs had sworn to to be shaken
off, and the full plenitude of their barbarity re-established. It
is grievous to reflect that any well-disposed individual like Lord
Glenelg, believing he was doing good, and under the influence and
guidance of others, should have thus blasted the bright prospects of
such rapidly progressing civilization.

But so it was. I was removed from the administration of affairs and
my command, and replaced by a man[118] violently obnoxious to Kafirs
and colonists. Owing to the view Lord Glenelg had taken and the _ton_
given, I was upbraided with every act of violence and oppression
the curse of war can impose, and branded as the murderer of Hintza
throughout the newspapers of the world. Every act of the murderous
Kafirs during the war was regarded as a just retaliation for previous
wrong; everything the colonists said or did or suffered, treated with
contempt, and they themselves believed to be the cause of their own
misfortunes. While our country’s treasury and private contributions
were open to the sufferers of the world from the temperate regions
of Portugal to the snows of Poland, the ears of the public were deaf
to the cries of the widows and orphans in the once happy and rapidly
thriving province of Albany, although its settlers had been induced to
come from England and there lay out their capital, were good subjects,
loyal and true, and regularly paid their taxes, and therefore had a
right to expect protection from the Government. All rule and just and
good government was banished under the influence of the philanthropic
party, who, by perversion of facts, evidently desire to lead others
(this Colony certainly) to the devil for God’s sake.

Do not let it be supposed that a man with a conscience so clear as
mine, with a head and heart so bent on exertion for the benefit of
others, tamely submitted to the opprobrium so cruelly, so unjustly
heaped upon him—I, who, while regarded by the world as a monster
stained with innocent blood, who had waged war contrary to the
tolerated rules and precedents of warfare (which is a scourge in its
mildest and most modified shape), was at the moment regarded by those
I was accused of oppressing as their “Father,” “their Great Chief,”
in whom they implicitly confided and believed contrary to the strong
prejudices of previous habit. No, I wrote a letter to the Minister
explanatory of every procedure—I opened his eyes—and I received from
him the atonement contained in the extracts following:—

_Extract from a dispatch of Lord Glenelg to His Excellency Sir B.
D’Urban, dated May 1st, 1837._

“IV.—I perform a duty highly agreeable to me in declaring that Col.
Smith is entitled to the grateful acknowledgments of His Majesty’s
Government, not only for his Military Services, but for his zealous,
humane, and enlightened administration of the Civil Government of the
Province placed under his charge, and of the adjacent district. I am
especially indebted to him for the very valuable suggestions which
he afforded to Lt. Governor Stockenstrom, who, I have no doubt, will
gladly avail himself of advice founded on so much observation and
experience.

“(Signed) Glenelg.”

_Extract from a dispatch of the Right Honourable Lord Glenelg to his
Excellency Major-General George F. Napier, Governor of the Cape of
Good Hope. Dated 13th November, 1837._

“But I cannot close this communication without adverting to the
high gratification with which I have read the testimony contained
in the voluminous papers before me to the conduct of Col. Smith.
That officer’s name is never mentioned but to his honour either by
the Governor or the Lt. Governor; and in the superintendence of the
Province of Adelaide under circumstances of the most trying nature, he
appears to have been distinguished alike by the energy with which he
maintained the public tranquillity, and the kindness of heart which
won for him the affectionate gratitude of all classes of the people.

“(Signed) John Bell,
“_Secretary to Government_.”

But although this palliated his error towards me, it in no manner
re-established me in the eyes of the world at large, and Lord Glenelg
was bound, as a man of honour, to have instigated Majesty to have
conferred upon me some mark of distinction, which should have at
once proclaimed my merit and the injury His Lordship’s misconception
had done me. The Colony and the Horse Guards, however, took a far
different [view] of my merits and services, which I must relate
hereafter.

To return to my children. So soon as the Kafirs heard of this change,
the general exclamation was, “Ah, it is ever thus with the English,
always changing towards us. We were never before so happy; never so
protected; never saw such an improvement amongst us; our chiefs will
eat us up as before.” The chiefs again feared their people. Lamentation
and grief throughout the land were excessive. Hundreds of men and women
were around my house and tent, lamenting and praying me not to abandon
them, and, as far as their knowledge went, invoking the protection of
the Great Spirit, to preserve me and my wife to govern and instruct
them.

I will candidly admit, I grieved too, for although at the outset, as
I took stock of my enthusiasm, I was often led into a belief that
my hopes would prove illusive, the consummation of my most sanguine
desires had now been effected; daily I saw improvement progressing,
not only by rapid strides, but on such a broad and firm path as to
ensure its permanency and induce the conviction that ten years would
have brought the Gospel of Christ and all the blessings of civilization
among the thousands of benighted barbarians around me.

It now became my duty, and one which I trust I executed with every
zeal, to do all I could to render the change palatable to the Kafirs
and to disabuse them of their bad opinion of my successor.

The odium with which they regarded him I believe I much mitigated. To
himself I wrote so soon as he arrived at Grahamstown, laying before
him the exact state of the frontier district, and recommending him to
convoke a general meeting of all the chiefs and their councillors at
King William’s Town, to explain to them the new order of things. I
said that I would call such a meeting for any day he would name, and I
was of opinion that it would have a better effect were I present than
otherwise.

My successor was a sensible man, and at once saw the advantage of the
arrangement I proposed, felt my attention and readiness to assist
him, and named a day. I convoked a meeting accordingly, and desired
Kreili, the great chief, to send a deputation. I had been in the
habit of communicating constantly with Kreili and the more distant
chiefs, Fakoo, Vadana, etc., and sending them all the news, thereby
establishing myself the _Great Chief_. I took the usual precaution to
reinforce my post, for when I told old Ganya that I should leave on
the day following the meeting, he exclaimed, “Then we shall have a
row!” A meeting, similar to the one I had convoked on the 7th January,
was accordingly held, and in a long explanation I delivered over the
government to my successor. Nothing could be more orderly than the
conduct of the people, and the expression of their regret. My successor
then explained to them their new position. Tyalie, always a forward
fellow, spoke to him in the most insolent manner; but I gave him such
a dressing, reminding him his bullocks were fat (meaning that he was
rich) under me, thus, if I only said the word, I could “eat” him “up”
in a moment.

I shall never forget that afternoon; never were my feelings or those of
my wife more excited. Our house and tents were surrounded by hundreds;
every chief and every one of the chiefs’ wives took off some of their
various ornaments and put them upon me and her; some wept aloud, others
lay on the ground groaning; and the man whom I had visited more than
others with the weight of power, Umhala, showed more real feeling then,
and even to this day often sends me messages of friendship and regard;
while Gazela and a fine young chief by name Seyolo, who had defended
the rocks on the heights of the Poorts of the Buffalo, declared life
was no longer worth having. The way the women shed tears around my
wife was piteous to behold. Barbarian emotion when over-excited is
uncontrollable, and nothing could exceed this demonstration.

The next morning I and my wife and staff departed from King William’s
Town, the seat of my labour in war and peace, and although every
demonstration of feeling was suppressed, I now admit my heart was full.
I had laboured day and night, God alone knows how I had laboured, and
to be so unkindly treated by the Minister of my country was galling to
a soldier whose good name is his only hope in the world. ’Tis true, a
rectitude of conscience sustained me which nothing could shake, but
human nature is weak enough to desire others should think well of
you, while inwardly and mentally you exclaim, “God is my Judge.” I was
attended by my successor and by the officers. The soldiers whom I had
given such gigantic marches turned out to cheer and bid me farewell,
while thousands of Kafirs followed me and my wife, yelling as if in
despair.

The parting with my old councillor Ganya and some others, as well as my
Kafir messengers at Fort Willshire, cannot be described. Ganya, poor
old fellow, came to me in a state of abject poverty, although a man of
great influence throughout Kafirland. I enriched him most deservedly,
for his assistance to me was invaluable and his attachment to me
faithful, while the most educated and upright man could never more
zealously feel or desire the welfare of his country and countrymen.

This barbarian was a most extraordinary character. He died a few
months later, as he told me he knew he should, having lost his Father,
his friend and benefactor. My messengers were very peculiar fellows,
too; they were all selected by the chiefs themselves, men, therefore,
of their own interest. In a country where writing is not known, all
communications, treaties, rules, laws, etc., are given _viva voce_ and
by message, and these fellows were brought up from infancy in that
department. Their power of memory is not to be believed. I had one
man from Macomo, by name Mani, a handsome fellow who had been shot
through both thighs in the war. My interpreter would read a long list
of orders, etc., addressed to Macomo of eighteen to twenty paragraphs.
He would then say, “Mani, do you understand all?” He would occasionally
ask for some explanation; then he would go to Macomo, 34 miles off. If
the chief did not detain him, he would be back with me after doing 68
miles in 28 hours, apparently not in the least fatigued, and bring me
an answer or comment on each paragraph in the order written down with
a correctness not to be credited. I declare I have been frequently
thunderstruck.

There is a curious law in Kafirland which shows how human nature in
a state of barbarism provides for its own wants. “The secret and
confidential” of our diplomatic and military correspondence is with
messengers provided for in this manner: it is death for any one
entrusted with a communication to divulge its purport to any one but
the chief of whose tribe he is a member. Thus if Mani was entrusted
with a message from me to Macomo, it was as safe in his company as
possible. If Tyalie had met him and demanded its purport, he would have
died ere he divulged it. All messengers would give me the purport of
their messages from one chief to the other if I demanded, being the
Great Chief. Thus, while secrecy is provided for, the supreme authority
reserves to himself the power of discovering plots and conspiracies.
Poor Mani! I see him now at my feet weeping. I do believe that poor
barbarian would have been cut to pieces limb by limb without a groan
if it would have served me, and many others would have done the same.
To this day I remember with gratitude their attachment. It was like
that of the most faithful dog, with this difference—reason told them we
parted for ever.

Upon nearing Grahamstown, the whole of the inhabitants turned out
to meet me, presented me with an address, begged me to name a day
agreeable to me for a public dinner, and if there was any consolation
to the feelings in the sympathy of those whom I had so served in need,
whose trade I had again so brightly re-established, I had a full
measure of it.

I accepted the dinner as an opportunity of thanking the inhabitants for
their assistance, obedience, and desire to meet my wishes, and telling
them, as they regarded me, to render that obedience and respect to my
successor which loyal subjects were bound to render to any one their
King had placed to rule over them.

We accomplished our journey from Grahamstown to Cape Town, I riding,
my wife again in a waggon. On this occasion, I had bought a very nice
light one, and had it fitted up with swing seats, etc., so that she
travelled in comparative luxury. All Grahamstown turned out to take
leave of me, and I could not fail to remark the difference between my
entrance into the beleaguered town and my quitting it, flourishing in
trade and prosperity.

At every town upon my road down dinners were given me in the Town Hall,
and every Boer, or Dutch farmer, came to see me. I never had to deal
with fellows who were more docile, if you took them in the right way,
viz. by kindness, by interesting yourself in their welfare, and by an
inflexible adherence to “Yes” and “No.”

Our journey down was delightful, through a country full of large and
small game, and many is the gallop I had after ostriches, which require
a fleet and right good-bottomed horse to ride down.

As I approached Cape Town, my many friends came out in shoals to meet
us, and I was received in the metropolis of the Cape by every public
demonstration of affection—ever so gratifying to the soldier who has
worked hard to serve his country—from the noble Governor, Sir Benjamin
D’Urban, to the mendicant.

I may, without any degree of mock modesty, say I worked hard, and
assert that from the period I left Cape Town, the 1st January, 1835,
to 18th October, 1836 (22 months), no man ever rode more miles, made
more night marches or such long ones, or wrote more letters than I did.
My correspondence was immense from the number of posts, and having to
carry on a war over a vast extent of thinly populated country, and in
peace to defend a frontier of 140 miles.

Soon after my arrival at Cape Town, a despatch was received from Lord
Glenelg, which was highly complimentary to me.[119]

A public meeting having been convened under the sanction of the
Government, this communication was made to me:—

“At a meeting of the inhabitants of Cape Town and its vicinity, held
in the Commercial Room on the 18th September, 1837, the Hon^{ble}
Hamilton Ross in the chair, it was resolved—

“That as the zealous, humane, and enlightened administration of
Colonel Smith, during the time he commanded on the frontier, merits
the gratitude and thanks of the colonists at large, the following
gentlemen, as a mark of their esteem, have concluded to invite him to
a public dinner.”

Of course I accepted the compliment, which afforded me a good
opportunity publicly to record my procedure, my gratitude to many
distinguished individuals and to the colony at large, my regret at
the system established among the Kafirs having been abolished, and
my everlasting feelings of respect and veneration for the Governor,
Sir Benjamin D’Urban, whose instrument alone I was, and whose support
and approbation of all I did or proposed enabled me to effect all I
had done; and, lastly, though I was far from being a man addicted
to view things darkly, my foreboding, based on a knowledge of every
circumstance on the frontier and the conflicting interests of the
colonists and Kafirs, that chaos would again be re-established.

Unfortunately, my prediction has been but too truly verified. Such was
the disgust of hundreds of valuable members of the Dutch population and
wealthy farmers, they emigrated in masses and seized the country of
the Zoolus, and have been a thorn in the government of the Cape until
lately, when matters have been adjusted and Port Natal added to the
British possessions.

Had my system been persisted in, and the order of things so firmly
planted and rapidly growing into maturity been allowed to continue, not
a Boer would have migrated. I am proud to say I had as much influence
over the Boers as over the Kafirs, and by a kind and persuasive manner
in expostulation, had they meditated such a step, I could at once have
deterred them.

The whole colony being desirous of substantially exhibiting their
gratitude towards me, subscriptions were opened for the purpose of
presenting me with plate in demonstration thereof. Although each
subscription was limited to half a guinea, £500 was very speedily
subscribed.

Upon the articles of plate is this inscription:

“Presented to Colonel Henry George Wakelyn Smith, C.B., by his
numerous friends at the Cape of Good Hope, as a token of their
admiration of his distinguished military and civil services in that
colony and in Kaffraria, 1835-6. Palmam qui meruit ferat!”

The two Hottentot battalions, officers and men, had previously set this
example, and by their 800 men a magnificent candelabra was presented to
me, like the other plate, manufactured by one of the first workmen in
London.

This substantial mark of their consideration bore the inscription:

“Presented to Colonel Harry George Smith, C.B., as a testimonial of
respect for his distinguished military services during the late Kafir
War, and the consummate skill and benevolence subsequently displayed
in the civil administration of the conquered province of Queen
Adelaide, which so eminently contributed to the peace and security of
the colony and the amelioration of the condition of the barbarian thus
brought within the pale of civilization.”

The plate presented by the zealous officers is inscribed:

“Presented by the officers of the Cape of Good Hope Provisional
Infantry to Colonel Henry George Wakelyn Smith, in testimony of their
high sense of the eminent services rendered to the colony by his
skill, gallantry, and unwearied activity in the field against the
Kafirs in the year 1835, and by his subsequent, able, humane, and
zealous exertions for the promoting the civilization of the native
tribes as the best means of establishing with them a secure and
lasting peace.”

Lord Hill being desirous to mark his approbation and that of my
Sovereign for the services above recorded, was kind enough to appoint
me to the responsible, important, and elevated post of Adjutant-General
to H.M.’s Forces in India; and in the very ship which brought
the newspaper gazette of my appointment did I embark for my new
destination, the ship waiting from Saturday until Thursday for me.
[June, 1840.]

Little was the time thus afforded for me to prepare for embarcation,
but a soldier must be ever ready, and my wife’s cheerful exertion soon
prepared everything, although our hearts were full at leaving so many
valuable, dear, and faithful friends and a country in which we had
spent eleven years of happiness and some excitement, and ever received
as much kindness and hospitality as the most sanguine could desire.

So short was the time that my friends in Cape Town who were desirous to
pay me some mark of their respect could do no more than present me on
the morning of my embarcation with the following address:—

“_To_ Col. H. G. Smith, C.B., etc.

“Sir,

“We, the undersigned inhabitants of Cape Town, do ourselves the
pleasure of offering you our sincere congratulations on your recent
appointment to serve in a country which can, better than this Colony,
reward its brave and zealous defenders. But, cordial as our wishes
are for your welfare and advancement, we deeply regret that the very
circumstances which open brighter prospects to you must terminate your
residence amongst us, and deprive this Colony of the services of one,
whose well-known and long-tried courage and abilities have been once
more tested in the performance of most difficult and important duties
within our own observation.

“The few years which have elapsed since the most brilliant of your
services to this Colony were achieved have not dimmed our recollection
of them, and on quitting our shores be assured you leave a name
behind you which will never be forgotten by the present, and will be
made known to, and remembered by, succeeding generations of the Cape
Colonists.

“The suddenness of your departure prevents very many from joining in
this expression of our feelings towards you; but to whatever quarter
of the world your well-earned promotion may lead you, South Africa
will learn with deep interest the history of your future career, and
rejoice in the tidings of your prosperity.

“We have, etc.”

To which I replied—

“Cape Castle, 4th June, 1840.

“Gentlemen,

“I thank you most cordially for your congratulations on the mark of
distinction which Her Majesty has been pleased to confer upon me, by
appointing me Adjutant-General to the Queen’s troops in India.

“On my return from the frontiers, you received me with warm
congratulations—the services of which you were thus pleased, in a
manner so gratifying to me, to express your approbation were of
recent occurrence—but the feelings expressed by you in the address
with which you have this day honoured me, prove that the recollection
and appreciation of a soldier’s services may outlive the excitement
produced at the moment by success, and I pray you to believe that the
recollection of the feelings so warmly and kindly expressed will never
cease to dwell in my memory, and will be matter of exultation to me in
whatever clime or quarter of the globe it may be my lot to serve.

“During a residence of eleven years, I have met with invariable
kindness from all classes in the Colony—I may say, from the community
at large; and although I cannot but feel that an honour of no ordinary
class has been conferred upon me by Her Majesty, yet I say from my
heart that I now quit your shores with deep regret.

“I have the honour to be, Gentlemen,

“Your most obedient, humble servant,
“H. G. Smith, Colonel.”

And the Governor of the Cape, Sir George Napier,[120] issued the
following General Order:—

“Headquarters, Cape Town, 1st June, 1840.

“In consequence of the promotion of Colonel Smith to be
Adjutant-General to the Army in India, the Commander-in-Chief takes
this opportunity to express his high approbation of that officer’s
services during his residence in this Colony, and he feels confident
the officers and soldiers of this command will be highly gratified by
so distinguished a mark of Her Majesty’s favour and approbation being
bestowed on an officer of such long and gallant services in nearly
every part of Her Majesty’s Dominions.

“As one of his companions, and as an old Comrade in Arms, the
Major-General offers Colonel Smith his warmest congratulations and
best wishes for his health and happiness.

“The Orders of the Garrison of Cape Town, and of the guards and
sentries, etc., as established by Colonel Smith, C.B., are to be
considered as Standing Orders for this Garrison, and will be strictly
observed accordingly.”

However gratified we were by this distinguished mark of Her Majesty’s
approbation, we left the Cape of Good Hope as if we were leaving for
ever our native land, and in that patriotic expression “My native
land, good night” is comprised all the most feeling heart of man can
participate in.

Ah, Cape of Good Hope, notwithstanding your terrific south-easters in
the summer, your dreadful north-westers in the winter, your burning
sun, your awful sands, I and my wife will ever remember you with an
affection yielding alone to that of the “Land of our Sires!”

CHAPTER XL.

VOYAGE FROM CAPE TOWN TO CALCUTTA—HARRY SMITH’S DISAPPOINTMENT
AT NOT RECEIVING THE COMMAND IN THE AFGHAN WAR—HIS CRITICISM
OF THE OPERATIONS.[121]

On the voyage we encountered terrific gales of wind; one night a squall
took us aback, carried away our topmasts, and shivered our sails into
shreds in a moment. I never knew or could conceive before what the
force of wind was capable of. This excessive violence lasted only
twenty minutes, leaving us a log on the water. The gale continued three
days, and on the 18th June, 1840,[122] we had staring us in the face
a watery grave. It was the anniversary of the day on which I and two
brothers escaped the slaughter of the eventful field of Waterloo. The
same Divine Hand, however, protected us, and the 91st Psalm was again
read in devotion and gratitude to the Almighty and Eternal Lord God,
“Who alone spreadest out the heavens and rulest the raging of the
sea;” and we reached Madras Roads in safety, after a most boisterous
but quick passage.

I embarked six horses, one of which died at sea, and all the rest were
much bruised and injured.

At Madras we had many friends. The Governor, Lord Elphinstone, whom we
had known as a boy, and to whom we were of use at the Cape on his way
out, was then in the Nilgherries. So soon as he heard of our arrival,
Government House and all its luxuries were placed at our disposal; but
we were already hospitably put up with one of my oldest and dearest
friends, Dr. Murray, the Inspector-General, who had for many years held
a similar appointment at the Cape, one of the most able professional
men in the world, and as an officer in his department never surpassed.
Poor fellow! in two years it was my melancholy duty to report his death
at Kurnal, in the Upper Provinces of Bengal, where he fell a gallant
victim to an epidemic disease. To his exertions to avert the progress
of its fatal ravages, and the rapidity with which he travelled from
Calcutta in the sickly part of the rainy season, may be attributed a
loss irreparable to the service, to his family, and to his friends.

From Madras to Calcutta we had a beautiful passage, flying along the
coast and passing the famous temple of Juggernauth with the rapidity
with which its votaries believe they ascend to the Regions of Bliss. On
reaching Calcutta we were surrounded by old friends of the army, and
many civil servants and military officers of the Honourable Company’s
Service whom we had known at the Cape, where they had repaired for
the recovery of health. Lord Auckland received us with every kindness,
and his Lordship’s amiable, accomplished, and highly educated sisters
showed us the most marked attention, kindness, and hospitality. As to
the Commander-in-chief, Sir Jasper Nicolls, we became, after some time,
as it were members of his family.[123]

Sir Jasper Nicolls is a man of very strong common sense, and very
wary of giving his confidence, or, indeed, of developing any of his
intentions. At first I thought he was a rough, hard-hearted man. I soon
discovered, however, he was one of the best men of business I ever
served, with a warm heart and a degree of honesty of purpose never
exceeded. His dear good wife is now, alas! no more—she died at Rome
on their return to their native land after years of travel, toil, and
burning suns. Her ladyship and daughters and my wife possessed a union
of hearts and feelings which gradually increased until, on the death of
Lady Nicolls, one important link of that chain of union was snapped,
but is now riveted in the most fervent affection for the daughters.

In the career of military life, no man can reasonably expect that so
rugged a path can be traversed without some personal disaster, and so
it was with me, previously one of fortune’s spoiled children. Lord
Auckland, from report and a knowledge of my exertions and successes at
the Cape, had imbibed a favourable opinion of me, and had the Burmese
made war in 1842, as was expected, it was his Lordship’s intention to
appoint me to the command of the troops destined to repel invasion
and re-establish our superiority. I had also a faithful friend in
the Lieutenant-Governor of the Upper Provinces, Mr. Thomas Campbell
Robertson—a man of superior ability and acquirement, and more versed in
the history and affairs of India than any man I ever sought information
from except Mr. Thoby Prinsep.[124] As I was likely to spend some years
in India if appointed Adjutant-General, as I had some reason to expect,
I had, when at the Cape, read thirty-three authors, made copious notes,
and generally studied the history and geography of this immense Empire.
This acquired knowledge enabled me to converse with such practical and
experienced men with great advantage to any information and knowledge I
had previously obtained.

After the death of the celebrated Runjeet Singh, the state of
our North-West Frontier, bordering on the seat of commotion, and
ultimately bitter war, in Afghanistan, was far from settled, and it
was contemplated that the Sikhs might interrupt our communication
with our troops, so fearfully extended from any base of operations,
and with the country of this doubtful ally intervening. Under these
circumstances, I placed my ready services at the disposal of Lord
Auckland and the Commander-in-Chief. Soon after this the insurrection
at Cabool commenced. Poor Elphinstone and I had been friends for
years,[125] and I had frequently impressed upon him the difficulty
of his position, the probability of an attempt on the part of the
restless and independent-spirited Afghan to shake off that yoke so
injudiciously imposed upon him (especially as our rupees were no
longer so lavishly, so indiscreetly scattered to acquire an ascendency
which, if necessary to acquire at all, should have been acquired by
the sword, and maintained by the sword, sheathed in inflexible and
uncompromising justice, equity, dignity, and honour), and the necessity
of his ever considering himself in the greatest danger when he felt the
most secure; but I must not set my foot on a field which to describe
would require volumes. The war broke out. The energy of a Wellington
or a Napoleon would have saved the destruction of that force; it was
perfectly practicable, as I then pointed out. The Lieutenant-Governor
and I were in hourly communication; I showed the military steps we
ought to pursue, and he urged them on the Government, and offered to
bear any responsibility with the Commander-in-Chief. Lord Auckland
was a sensible but timid man, and the Commander-in-Chief, ever most
judiciously and correctly averse to the occupation of Afghanistan, was
reduced to defensive measures at the moment when the most vigorous
and initiative steps ought to have been taken with the velocity of
lightning. The moment was lost. If time, that irrecoverable engine in
war, is neglected, disaster, as in this instance, must ensue. Before
the outbreak at Cabool, when my dear friend Elphinstone, from the
dire misfortune of sickness, was compelled to request his relief, the
Lieutenant-Governor urged the Government and Lord Auckland to send
me up. I offered my services on the condition that I had the supreme
and uncontrolled military authority from the source to the mouth of
the Indus and was aided by a civil servant; and Mr. George Clerk, the
Political Agent for the Punjaub, a man of first-rate abilities and
activity, most popular among the Sikhs, whose country and resources
intervened between our distant operations and their base, offered nobly
(for we were personally strangers) to serve with and under me.

Sir Jasper Nicolls, why I do not to this moment know, was opposed to
my being employed, although Lord Auckland wished it, and Major-General
Pollock was gazetted by the Government—“by the express recommendation
of the Commander-in-Chief”—but only to the command of the Upper
Indus, not the Lower, where Major-General Nott was senior officer.
Consequently, when these two officers’ forces united, they were like
the Corps d’Armée of Napoleon in Spain, jealous of each other, the
junior[126] was disobedient to the senior, and that _ensemble_, on
which success in war hinges, was lost.

The only reason I could ever suppose influenced Sir Jasper Nicolls
in his reluctance to employ me—for I know he had the highest opinion
of my activity—is that he apprehended, if I once got the command,
the wealthy Persia would have been attempted, and my progress alone
interrupted by the Caspian Sea. His thought day and night was to get
back the army from its advanced and dangerous position. Whereas had
the troops been rushed to the scene of action, as they might have been
(for on the commencement of the outbreak, the Khyberies were with us),
and Brigadier Wyld’s Brigade moved by forced marches to Jellalabad,
other troops rapidly following in succession, and when Wyld arrived
at Jellalabad, the whole of the weakly men, women, stores, etc.,
been securely placed in a small _Place d’armes_ constructed for the
purpose during Wyld’s approach, while General Sale’s and Wyld’s forces
combined precipitated themselves on Cabool, the force then would have
been saved, the spirits of the troops would have been sustained by the
knowledge of succour approaching, the enemy proportionately depressed.
Thus a want of exertion and decision in rendering support caused a
disaster and a loss England never before sustained. It is needless
here to enter into dates, number of marches, etc.; the thing I have
described was a simple matter of activity and well within the scope of
possibility. As soon as he arrived, Lord Ellenborough saw the necessity
of withdrawing the troops from Afghanistan, but was precipitate in
availing himself of the period so to do—which certainly was not at
the moment when our military prowess, the prestige of our arms, and
our national character for supremacy required to be re-established.
A government proposed by the Afghans should have been set up by us;
then the sooner we abandoned a nominal conquest, the better for the
true interests of British India. So astonished was I at the immediate
withdrawal, that I wrote the Memorandum No. 1. In the meanwhile the
Governor-General had left it optional to General Nott to retire by
Guznee, but had issued several peremptory orders to Pollock to retire.
When Nott, however, proposed his forward movement, Pollock was also
directed to move. I then wrote the Memorandum No. 2, and as the
campaign developed, No. 3.[127] The moment the Afghans were assailed
and the invasion pursued, they quailed immediately, and did not evince
the courage and perseverance in the cause of their country of the Swiss
and Vendeans. If they had done so, the three divisions of Pollock and
Nott and England, moving as they were upon the falsest of military
principles, would have been sacrificed; but in all wars the folly of
one party is exceeded by that of the other, and that which is the least
culpable succeeds. This example of the want of union and energy on the
part of the Afghans shows how easy it would have been to have crushed
the insurrection by adopting vigorous measures at the moment.

But to revert to my own command. If the Governor-General had selected
me and given me the authority I desired, viz. the whole line of the
Indus, with the aid of Mr. Clerk (whose popularity with the Sikh
Government and nation was so great that the resources of the Punjaub
would have been at his command, and consequently at my disposal for
the use of the army, which stood so much in need of them), I would
have waged war upon a great scale upon the Afghan, razed his forts and
fortresses from one end of his country to the other, established a
government, remained in the country until order, rule, and authority
were firmly established; then when the invincible character of our arms
had been maintained, marched out of the country triumphantly, and
not have sneaked out of it, as we did, with our tail down, like a cur
before a hound. That our national character for consistency, equity,
and superiority has suffered by this melancholy attempt on Afghanistan
is daily experienced throughout India. Would Scinde, Bundelkund, and
Gwalior have dared to resist us but for the example afforded them in
Cabool, that British troops could be not only beaten, but annihilated?
The whole of the transactions of this period afford such a lesson to
all Governors and Military Commanders, it is to be hoped posterity will
never forget them. First principles in government and war can never be
departed from: though success at the onset may attend irregularity,
in the end disaster will assuredly prove that consistency, rule, and
the true principles of strategy are indispensable to the achievement
of conquest. To buy the good-will of the influential men of nations is
folly and extravagance and the most temporary authority that can be
attained. Conquest must be achieved by force of arms, by the display of
irresistible power; then held by moderation, by a progressive system
of amelioration of the condition of the people, by consistency and
uncompromising justice. In this way the great movers of mankind, Fear
and Self-interest, perpetuate subjection.

CHAPTER XLI.

SIR HUGH GOUGH SUCCEEDS SIR JASPER NICOLLS AS COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF
IN INDIA—AFFAIRS IN GWALIOR—BATTLE OF MAHARAJPORE—HARRY
SMITH MADE K.C.B.

At this period [1843] the time of command of Sir Jasper Nicolls
expired, and Sir Hugh Gough, the hero of Barossa and of China, was
appointed Commander-in-Chief. Headquarters was at the time in the
Himalaya Mountains at Simla, and, Sir Hugh having expressed a wish that
I should meet him, I and my dear wife started in the middle of the
rainy and unhealthy season on the 18th July for Calcutta by dâk.[128]
By this slow process you are carried at the rate of three and a half
miles an hour in a sort of wooden box called a palanquin. You railroad
flyers would regard it as slow indeed for a journey of 1300 miles. We
reached Allahabad, and from thence proceeded by steamboat and found
my new Commander-in-Chief. The parting with Sir J. Nicolls was as
painful as affectionate. With every member of his highly educated and
accomplished family we were on the most intimate and friendly terms,
and he was kind enough by letter to say that he ever regarded me as
a “most upright, straightforward gentleman and soldier.” On parting,
I could not fail to express regret that he had not appointed me to
command in Afghanistan, the only time I ever agitated the subject. His
answer was, “My reasons then are fully in force now, but it was no want
of the highest opinion of your abilities.” I shall ever entertain the
highest respect for Sir Jasper Nicolls as a most shrewd and sensible
man, laborious at papers, expressing himself by letter in as few words
as the Duke himself, and possessing a clear and thorough knowledge of
the affairs of India and its army. In his great error of command—I
allude to Afghanistan—there he was ever consistent, always opposed
to the occupation of that country, so distant from our resources, so
ruinous to our Treasury, but, though right in principle, he should have
yielded to the force of circumstances at the moment, _restored the
fight_, and ultimately given back the country to its lawful owners.

We were both received by Sir Hugh Gough and family with every
demonstration of a wish to cultivate that mutual friendship and good
understanding which education dictates and the good of our service
and the rules of the social compact demand. We were only in Calcutta
from the 1st to the 12th September, but twelve more laborious days we
never passed, what with an excess of correspondence, the meeting with
innumerable old friends, the formation of new, the _fêtes_ to the new
Commander-in-Chief, a great military dinner to Lord Ellenborough,
etc., and, added to it all, the muggy heat and damp of Calcutta. The
twelve days accordingly appeared to us almost months, from excitement
and fatigue mental and bodily.

His Excellency had no recreation from his labours and indefatigable
exertion, exposing himself to sun, wind, and weather both by sea and
land in the most enthusiastic manner. Such was the state of affairs in
Scindiah’s Dominions, it was evident that British interference alone
could establish any peaceful order of things. It was therefore not
only expedient, but necessary, to assemble an army for the purpose
of supporting diplomacy or of acting in open war. Lord Ellenborough
intimated this to Sir Hugh, who, with his characteristic energy, sought
information on all points, and soon saw his position, his resources,
and the means at his disposal to collect that army which should be
irresistible if compelled to take the field, or adequate to making
a demonstration which would no less surely bring about the required
result. To assemble an army in India requires much arrangement and
consideration. There are various points at which the maintenance of an
armed force is indispensable; the extent of country in our occupation
entails in all concentrations particularly long and tedious marches:
lastly, the season of the year must be rigidly attended to, for such is
the fickleness of disease and its awful ravages, that it would need an
excess of folly to leave it out of the account.

Affairs at Gwalior were still in a most disturbed state. The country
was divided into parties. One of them, since the death of the Maharaja
Scindiah [5 February, 1843], had adhered to the widow, a girl of only
fourteen, but intriguing, designing, and in the hands of a cunning
fellow, a sort of Prime Minister. This party was the strongest, and
was inimical to the British Government. Hence it became necessary, in
virtue of existing treaties, to re-establish by force of arms that
amicable relationship which the tranquillity of India demanded, as
well as to support the interests of the Maharaja, Scindiah’s heir by
another wife, a boy of ten years old. An army with a very efficient
battery train was accordingly assembled at Agra under the immediate
command of His Excellency, while a large division under Major-General
Grey was concentrated at and in the vicinity of Cawnpore. While
negotiations were in progress, the troops were to move on Gwalior to
menace the hostile party, so that we might secure the object in view
by negotiation rather than at once appeal to arms. The headquarters
army marched from Agra direct on Dholpore upon the Chumbul, while the
division under General Grey was to create a diversion and threaten
Gwalior by a march to southward. According to the rules of strategy
and correct principles of military combination, this division of the
threatening or invading forces may with great reason be questioned,
when we reflect that the army of Gwalior consisted of 22,000 veteran
troops and for years had been disciplined by European officers and
well supplied with artillery, and thus an overwhelming force might
have been precipitated on Grey and his army destroyed, for he was
perfectly isolated and dependent on his own resources alone. This,
however, had not escaped the observation and due consideration of the
Commander-in-Chief. As we calculate on the power of an enemy, so may we
estimate what, according to his system of operations, he is likely to
attempt. On this occasion it was considered that if the enemy made a
descent on Grey, his division was of sufficient force to defend itself,
while our main army would have rapidly moved on Gwalior and conquered
it without a struggle through the absence of the chief part of its
army, (for strategy is totally unknown to a native army, which usually
posts itself on a well-chosen position and awaits an attack).

The leading incidents which led to the outbreak of war have been so
recently and so distinctly recorded, I have only to observe that
the policy pursued by the Governor-General was of the most correct
character. He gave the State of Gwalior full time for reflexion, and
demanded only such an arrangement as could alone restore the youthful
Maharaja to his birthright, and produce harmony within the State and
peace and tranquillity without. It admits of considerable discussion
whether or not the Governor-General was justified in crossing the
Chumbul, and thereby invading the territory of a kingdom he was
treating with, when one of the great preliminaries had been granted,
viz. the surrender of the Dada Khasgee Wala, the adviser and lover
of the young widow and the Prime Minister. However, the army under
the Commander-in-Chief crossed the Chumbul by ford above Dholpore,
while Grey’s Division entered the dominion of Scindiah _viâ_ Koonah
and crossed the boundary, the river Scinde, in the neighbourhood of
Kohee, avoiding, however, the Antree Pass, which would have exposed
his advance to considerable interruption. The army, after crossing the
Chumbul, moved into a position on the Koharee rivulet (the banks of
which are intersected by small ravines so as to be impassable but by
certain roads), and about eight miles from the ford of the Chumbul. The
position was one rather chosen for the pomp and ceremony of a visit
from the widow, the Maharaja, and the Court, which was expected in the
then state of the negotiations. This meeting was all arranged,[129] but
never came to consummation. The army were so jealous of Grey’s advance,
they concluded, and naturally from their own Mahratta character (being
the most fickle and deceitful people, and capable of any treachery to
advance their desires), that while the Governor-General was encouraging
this meeting, which was to be attended by a considerable body of the
Mahratta army, Grey’s division would move into the rear and seize
the capital and the fortress of Gwalior. The suspicions of natives
(naturally jealous and ready to impute evil to all around them) are
not to be calmed, and the army prohibited this meeting (if the babe
widow and her party ever seriously meditated it) and moved forward in
a hostile attitude, crossing the Ahsin rivulet, which runs parallel to
the Koharee at a distance of eight or nine miles.

I was in the habit of taking long rides every morning to make myself
well acquainted with the country. When out riding on the 28th December,
I fell in with a patrol which the Quartermaster-General of the Army
had been directed to take out for the purpose of reconnoitring the
enemy, who, according to information, had crossed the Ahsin and posted
himself between the villages of Maharajpore and Chounda. The former is
advanced on the plain between the two rivulets, the latter is below the
Ahsin, the banks of which are also intersected by innumerable small
and impassable ravines. I accompanied Colonel Garden, the Q.M.G. On my
return I gave in the memorandum as follows:—

“Camp Hingonah, 28th Dec. 1843.

“Note on the position of the enemy on the left bank of the Ahsin
River:—

“From what I saw this morning, I calculate the force of the enemy
to be 10,000 men, and he fired from ten guns of small calibre. His
position appeared to be on the plain in dense masses of troops, his
left resting on the broken ground of the Ahsin River, his guns drawn
out in front, his right ‘en air,’ as if _more troops_ were coming
up to occupy the position selected. The sooner, therefore, it is
practicable for our army to occupy the right bank of the Koharee
and place itself in front of the enemy’s line, the better, not only
to prevent a further advance of the enemy, but to enable a general
action to be fought in two hours, when desired. This, however, is
a single view of our army, as it does not take into consideration
Major-General Grey’s Division. It therefore rests mainly to be
considered whether General Grey’s troops should not be so brought
into direct communication with the main body as either to attack
simultaneously the enemy’s left flank, or be so posted as to act
upon the line of the enemy when ‘en déroute’ of our main body. To do
this it is obvious that the exact position of General Grey must be
ascertained. If the information of the strength of the enemy renders
it expedient to await direct communication with General Grey, some
little delay is involved. On the contrary, if a general action be at
once desirable, it may be fought by eleven o’clock to-morrow, Friday
the 29th inst. To effect this, the army should march, crossing the
Koharee disencumbered of the ‘impedimenta’ of war, before daylight
the 29th inst. The distance hence to the enemy’s line is within eight
miles. To fight this action early in the morning is most desirable,
in order to enable the pursuit of the fugitives to be protracted,
therefore effective, and to ensure the capture of every gun.

“The morning was very hazy, and the smoke of the camp combining with
it made reconnaissance difficult.”

The army marched before daylight on the 29th Dec.[130] in three
columns, all of which reached their ground with the utmost precision.
The enemy was attacked [Battle of Maharajpore], every gun (54) taken,
and the defeat general; but never did men stand to their guns with
more determined pluck, every gunner being bayoneted or cut down at
his post. It was the same at Puniar [General Grey’s victory of the
same day.] The result of these battles is well known. I was mentioned
in the dispatches of the Commander-in-Chief, Sir Hugh Gough, and was
rewarded with a step in the Most Honourable Military Order of the Bath,
from C.B. (I had worn that decoration since Waterloo, twenty-nine
years before) to K.C.B., the Great Captain of the Age writing to me as
follows:—

“Horse Guards, 29 April, 1844.

“Sir,

“I have the satisfaction to acquaint you that the Secretary of State
has, upon my recommendation, submitted to the Queen your appointment
to be a Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Military Order of the
Bath, of which Her Majesty has been most graciously pleased to approve.

“I have the honor to be, Sir,
“Your most obedient humble servant,
“(Signed) Wellington.”

“Major-General Sir H. G. Smith, K.C.B.”

To which I replied—

“Headquarters, Army of India, Simla, 23rd June, 1844.

“My Lord Duke,

“I have this day had the honour to receive your Grace’s letter, ‘Horse
Guards, 29th April’ acquainting me with an expression of satisfaction
that Her Majesty had, upon your recommendation, been graciously
pleased to appoint me a Knight Commander of the Most Honourable
Military Order of the Bath. While my gratitude to my Sovereign is
unbounded, my heart dictates, it is to your Grace I am indebted for
every honorary distinction, promotion, and appointment I have received
during a long and an eventful period of the history of the world.
Among the many thousands of the gallant soldiers who so nobly fought
and conquered under your Grace, I may conscientiously hope none could
desire more zealously to do his duty, or was ever more actuated by
personal devotion or inspired with greater confidence throughout
the numerous struggles of war, than he who now renders his grateful
thanks for this mark of distinction so honourable to the soldier,
and thus conferred by Her Majesty through the recommendation of his
Commander-in-Chief, the Great Captain of the Age.

“I have, etc.,
“(Signed) H. G. Smith.

“Field Marshal His Grace the Duke of Wellington.”

I have now served my country nearly forty years, I have fought in every
quarter of the globe, I have driven four-in-hand in every quarter, I
have never had a sick certificate, and only once received leave of
absence, which I did for eight months to study mathematics. I have
filled _every_ staff situation of a Regiment and of the General Staff.
I have commanded a Regiment in peace, and have had often a great voice
in war. I entered the army perfectly unknown to the world, in ten years
by force of circumstances I was Lieutenant-Colonel, and I have been
present in as many battles and sieges as any officer of my standing in
the army. I never fought a duel, and only once made a man an apology,
although I am as hot a fellow as the world produces; and I may without
vanity say, the friendship I have experienced equals the love I bear my
comrade, officer or soldier.

My wife has accompanied me throughout the world; she has ever met with
kind friends and never has had controversy or dispute with man or woman.

Harry Smith.

APPENDIX TO CHAPTER XLI.

On the Battle of Maharajpore.

In a letter to Sir James Kempt, dated “Gwalior, 15th January, 1844,”
Harry Smith sketches the events which led to the battle, and cites his
memorandum of 28th December given above. He continues—

“The army did march as described in Sir H. Gough’s dispatches in three
columns, each arriving at its designated post in excellent time—which
I freely admit was scarcely to be expected, having to disengage itself
from a mass of laden elephants, camels, and bullocks and bullock
carts, etc., resembling rather the multitudes of Xerxes than anything
modern, and having to traverse ground on the banks of rivulets most
peculiarly intersected by numerous and deep small ravines, the pigmy
model of a chain of mountains, but even more impassable. On such
ravines was posted the enemy’s left flank; his right extended towards
the village of Maharajpore, which he had filled with Infantry and ably
supported by batteries enfilading its approach, his extreme right
again thrown back upon the ravines of the Ahsin River, as described
in the little pencil sketch enclosed, thus realizing the surmise in
my report, ‘his right “en air,” as if other troops were coming up to
complete the occupation of the position.’ If we could have caught the
enemy in the state he was when reconnoitred the previous day, easy
indeed would have been the victory. These Mahrattas, nor indeed does
any Indian Army, know no more than to occupy a strong position and
hold it as long as able, sticking to their guns _like men_. Having
observed the enemy’s position the day before, it was obvious to me
this morning that he had advanced very considerably, and that he held
the village of Maharajpore in force, which I rode through the day
previous. Upon a plain, and that plain covered with the high stalks
of Jumna corn, not a mound of rising ground even to assist the view,
reconnoitring is nearly nominal. However, so impressed was I from what
a nearer view the day before had given me and what I then saw, that
the enemy attached great importance to his left flank, the line of
his retreat if beaten, I ventured to advocate that flank as the most
eligible point for a weighty attack. However, things were differently
conducted and as the heads of columns appeared, the enemy instantly
opened a well-directed cannonade, particularly from the vicinity of
the village of Maharajpore, and Sir H. Gough ordered an advance. His
dispatch tells the tale, and the mode of resistance, the enemy’s
guns, etc. I need, therefore, only bear testimony to the gallantry of
the enemy’s resistance, which in my conscience I believe and assert
would not have been overcome but for our gallant old Peninsular
comrades, the 39th and 40th Regiments, who carried everything before
them, bayoneting the gunners at their guns to a man. These guns were
most ably posted, each battery flanking and supporting the other by
as heavy a cross-fire of cannon as I ever saw, and grape like hail.
Our leaders of brigades in the neighbourhood and in the village had
various opportunities of displaying heroism, Valiant, Wright 39th and
my Assistant, Major Barr, remarkably so, and many gallant fellows fell
in this noble performance of their duty. The enemy was driven back
at every point with great loss, yielding to force, not retiring in
haste. A more thorough devotedness to their cause no soldiers could
evince, and the annals of their defeat, altho’ an honour to us, can
never be recorded as any disgrace to them. Turn we now to General
Grey’s division. For many days before the 29th our communication was
totally interrupted, and the wisdom of the route and the disunited
approach to Gwalior must be tested by the fortunate result, not by the
established rules and principles of strategy. Grey’s dispatch is not
so well written as it might have been, I am led to understand, nor
does he give full credit to the old Buffs for their gallant _double
allowance_ with which they contributed to the achievements of the day
and the capture of the enemy’s guns, every one of them. The old 50th
had its share too, and the blockheads in the East, who ‘haver’ over
their wine of India’s being in a state to require no British troops,
are wrong: for, liberally contributing the full meed of praise to the
Seapoy Battalions, that praise is so rested on the British soldier’s
example, the want of that ‘point d’appui’ would entail a dire want
indeed, that of victory! Now if we regard the victories recently
obtained over the Mahratta force, 28,000 men whose discipline has
gradually been improving under Christian officers since 1803 (the days
of Lake and Wellington), well supplied with cannon and every implement
of war, animated by a devotion to their cause not to be exceeded—in
a military point of view they are achievements in the field which
yield alone to Assaye and rank with Dieg, Laswarree, and Mehudpore,
and in a political point of view, their importance is immense, struck
in the very heart of India, within the hearing almost of the seat of
government of our Upper Provinces, Agra. Remembering the disasters
in Afghanistan, which still, as they ever will, hold their baneful
influence over British India; reviewing the recent bloody murders,
and present confusion and anarchy at Lahore; the still unsettled
state of Bundelkund; the sickness in Scinde (that accursed Scinde),
the grave of our army; the intrigues at the court of Nepaul, which
have been rife and ready for mischief pending the late contest—then
may my Lord Ellenborough and our country congratulate themselves
upon the re-establishment of the ‘Prestige of our Arms’ as a sure
foundation of our Indian Empire, the very base of which was tremulous,
for it is well known that these Mahrattas have been _advocating
hostility in every court of the East_. It is to be hoped, therefore,
coupled with Lord E.’s moderation and the equity of his acts in thus
re-establishing the youthful Maharaja on his throne, that our country
and its Government will regard this as no war of foreign invasion, no
war of conquest and unjust aggression, but one of absolute necessity
to maintain the one Power paramount in India on the faith of old
treaties of amity, and a demonstration to the present disturbed states
of India, to the well-disposed, and to the World, that the British
Lion will be ever triumphant; and that it will accordingly treat the
soldiers who have achieved victories of such political magnitude
with the liberality shown to _the heroes exiled_ from Affghanistan,
their discomfitures conjured into triumphs of valour, their miserable
retreat through the Khyber Pass into deeds of glory inferior to none
but the passage of San Bernardo by Napoleon. In this hope we may
venture to trust a fair construction will be put on our acts, and that
I may see my gallant comrades promoted as they deserve, and honoured
in the manner recent services have been.

“I shall ever regard this battle as one of the most fortunate
circumstances of my life, if the majority of its remainder is to be
spent in India, by its having acquired me that experience in Indian
warfare all require, and above all, to hold in just estimation your
enemy, a creed I have ever advocated, and to a certain extent, in
every instance practised. In the late conflict _no one_ gave our
foe credit for half his daring or ability; hence our attack was not
quite so scientifically powerful by a combination of the different
arms as it might have been, and the defects of the unwieldy machine
called the British Indian Army rendered most glaring:—its appalling
quantity of baggage, its lack of organization and equipment of the
soldiers, its want of experience in Generals and in officers, the
extreme willingness but total inexpertness and inaptitude of the
soldier in the arts of war, in the conflict, on picquet, on every
duty which a protracted campaign alone can teach effectually. In this
country almost every war has been terminated in one or two pitched
battles fought so soon as the one army comes in sight of the other,
and accordingly all the science attaching to advance and retreat,
the posting of picquets, reconnaissance of the enemy, the daily
contemplating his movements, both when he is before you and on the
march, are lost, and war is reduced at once to ‘there are people drawn
up who will shoot at you, so fire away at them.’ You blindly and
ineptly rush upon them, drive them from the field with considerable
loss, take all their guns, and never see the vestige of them after.
Thus we must judiciously and with foresight organize ourselves for a
campaign in the Punjaub—a very probable event—for the armies of India
are not now the rabble they were in Clive’s time, but organized and
disciplined by European officers of experience (many French), and the
art of war has progressed rapidly among our enemies, whose troops are
invariably far more numerous than those we oppose to them; thus by
superior ability we could alone calculate on their defeat. As it is,
we calculate alone on the bulldog courage of Her Majesty’s soldiers,
and our loss becomes what we lately witnessed.

“To obviate these deficiencies, apparent even to the most
inexperienced eye, we must in the first place reduce our baggage, next
give our Seapoys canteens and haversacks (a Regiment told me they were
exhausted for want of water, the water-carriers having run away). We
must then, every cold season, have divisions of the army assembled,
and post the one half opposite the other, with outlying picquets,
etc., and daily alarms, skirmishes, etc., then general actions with
blank cartridges. Without this the British Indian Army will remain as
it now is—a great unwieldy machine of ignorant officers and soldiers.
The drill of the Seapoy is good enough, and that of his officer, and
never will attain greater perfection, but unless the officers in their
separate commands know how, as I call it, to feed the fight, to bring
up or into action successively in their places their command, when
the attack is ordered, I defy any general to defeat his enemy but by
stupid bull-dog courage. It may be conceit in Harry Smith, but if
10,000 men were given him in one cold season, if by sham fights, etc.,
he did not make them practical soldiers, he would resign in disgust,
for the material is excellent and willing, but now, like a dictionary,
it contains all the words, but cannot write a letter.

“I have given you no account of the death of our gallant old comrade
Churchill; he was game, and tho’ not free from many errors he had
virtues, and his loss cost Juana and me some honest tears.

“Young Somerset is a fine, gallant young fellow who received four
wounds, three severe ones, but is doing well, thank God both for his
sake and his father’s. As I cannot write to all my many friends, if
you think this letter would amuse any of my _old comrades_, soldiers
such as I aim at making, Lord K.,[131] Sir J. Lambert, Sir T. Reynell
(if better), Sir A. Barnard, pray send it. Lord F. Somerset I do not
name, as I know you show him all my effusions which meet your own
approbation.

“Juana was under a heavy cannonade with Lady G., Miss G., and a Mrs.
Curtis on their elephants. Juana had this command of Amazons, and
as she was experienced and they young, her command was anything but
satisfactory.[132] This Gwalior is a very extraordinary place. I have
had some long rides in every direction, and the _débris_ of the army
of Scindiah now disbanding are as handsome, well-clothed and appointed
soldiers, as regular in their encampments, as Frenchmen, and inclined
to fight in their gallant and vivacious style.

“Thus our credit in the victory is the more.

“Faithfully, dear friend,
“(Signed) Harry Smith.”

CHAPTER XLII.

AFFAIRS IN THE PUNJAUB—SIR HENRY HARDINGE SUCCEEDS LORD
ELLENBOROUGH AS GOVERNOR-GENERAL—OUTBREAK OF THE FIRST SIKH
WAR—BATTLE OF MOODKEE.

Cawnpore, 7th September, 1846.

The narrative by way of my history which ceased in 1843 must now be
renewed, as it embraces the most important period of my eventful life,
as far as public services go. In my capacity of Adjutant-General of
Her Majesty’s forces at Headquarters (which in the cold weather moved
about on the plains, in the hot enjoyed the cool and bracing atmosphere
of the Himalayas at Simla), I had every opportunity of watching the
gradually gathering storm in the Punjaub, until it was suspended over
our heads in November, 1845, ready to burst, though where, when, or how
no one dared venture a decided opinion. Most certainly, however, no
one contemplated a powerful invasion, or imagined that the Sikhs were
in communication with the [princes?] and influential men of British
India so far as Delhi. At the period when this was written, the history
of the rise of the Punjaub as a nation was well known to all, but ere
these pages come to light it may be forgotten or partially so. A
slight compendium of this history is therefore annexed.

The kingdom called the Punjaub extends from the Hindoo Koosh (a branch
of the Himalayas) on the north, is bounded by that range on the east,
by the Indus to the west, by the Sutlej, to its confluence with the
Indus, to the south. However, a considerable portion of the territory
_south_ of the Sutlej was under the rule of the Lahore Government, and
this became the seat of the great war in 1845-6.

This tract of country was consolidated by the conquest of various
independent principalities by the ability, enterprise, and foresight of
the celebrated Runjeet Singh, who raised himself to pre-eminence and
absolute power from the middle class of society. Hence the old Sikh
families, the ancient Rajpoots, although subdued into obedience, were
ever distrustful of him and he was ever obnoxious to them; hence the
seeds of discord which so rapidly sprung up on the decease of Runjeet
Singh, and which concluded in this war so fatal to the Sikh.

The whole Punjaub contains about a quarter of a million of Sikhs,
the chief part to be found around Lahore and the beautiful city of
Umritsir. A Sikh cultivator is seldom seen. The Sikhs, although
professing a religion of Brahmanical tenets and established by their
great priest and prophet Govind Gooroo, drink to excess, eat opium and
bangh (a species of wild hemp possessing narcotic and intoxicating
qualities of the most enervating description), and regard the
abstemious Hindoo and the sensual Mussulman with contempt. Hence the
labour of the fields and every other labour fall upon the two latter
races, and they have always been favourably disposed to the British.

[Illustration:

MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE SUTLEJ CAMPAIGN, 1845-6. [_Opposite p. 498._]

Runjeet Singh’s great policy was a firm adherence to the rulers of
British India. He had observed in 1811 [1808?] the discipline of
some of our Seapoys who formed an escort to Mr. Metcalfe (ultimately
Lord Metcalfe) on an embassy to the Court of Lahore. This escort,
when treacherously attacked by a fanatical sect not then subdued to
Runjeet’s authority, called Akalies, so boldly and ably defended
itself, that, observing the effect of discipline, the acute Runjeet
instantly set to work to organize his own army on a similar footing. He
invited foreigners, especially Frenchmen, to enter his service, and was
liberal to many of them in the extreme. Under such instruction, a most
powerful army sprung up, composed of Cuirassiers, Light Infantry most
highly equipped, numerous Artillery (in which Runjeet had great faith),
and beautifully appointed and organized Infantry. Runjeet spared
neither expense nor exertion, and such a spirit of superiority and
strength was infused into this army that it believed itself invincible
and the most powerful in the world. Runjeet died in June, 1839, leaving
this powerful army, estimated by us as of the following strength:—

40,000 Cavalry, regular and irregular, among which a Brigade of
Akalies in cuirasses and chain armour, “The Invincibles.”

120,000 Regular Infantry.

Innumerable Irregulars—every inhabitant being a soldier.

400 pieces of cannon ready to take the field, (for Runjeet had spared
neither pains nor expense to improve the breed of horses, and his
efforts were attended with great success.)

From the death of Runjeet Singh in 1839 to 1845 a succession of
revolutions and murders of Kings and Princes continued, first one
party, then another, supporting a reputed son of Runjeet on the throne,
who was as sure to be murdered in the sanguinary struggles of that
Reign of Terror. A Hill family, elevated for their personal beauty
rather than their talents (although some of them were far from wanting
abilities), became conspicuous, and many fell with the puppets of
their creation. This family received the soubriquet of Lords of the
Hills, Jummoo being the fortified hold of the head of the family. Its
most conspicuous members were Goolab Singh and Dhyan Singh. Dhyan and
his son Heera Singh were both Prime Ministers, or Wuzeer, and both
were murdered in 1844. Such was the power of the standing army, it
acknowledged no other authority, set up Kings and deposed them at
pleasure, and at the period of the commencement of the war, a boy
(Dhuleep Singh), born of a Hill woman of great ability and reputed the
son of old Runjeet, was the nominal King, Lal Singh was Wuzeer, and Tej
Singh Commander-in-Chief of this rabble (though highly organized and
numerous) army. It must be obvious that such a state of things could
not last. The resources of the treasury were rapidly consuming, and
with them the only power of the Queen Mother, the Rani or Regent, which
consisted in her presents and consequent popularity. All the foreign
officers had absconded except one Frenchman, a man of neither note
nor talent, and a Spanish Engineer by name Hubon, a low-bred man, but
clever, acute, and persevering.

The British Government of India had acknowledged this Regency, and was
desirous to retain amicable relationship with the Punjaub, but in the
middle of the year 1845, so unruly and clamorous for war was the Sikh
army, all negotiations terminated, and a state of uncertainty ensued
which made it necessary for British India, without declaring hostility,
to place itself on a footing to resist it, should so mad an enterprise
ensue.

Meanwhile in 1844 Lord Ellenborough was recalled, and succeeded as
Governor-General by Sir Henry Hardinge, a statesman and a soldier of
Wellington’s, in either capacity celebrated for judgment, ability,
and foresight. Upon his very arrival, he saw that a rupture with
the Punjaub was sooner or later inevitable, and he drew up an able
document on the prospects of British India in such an event, which
he submitted to the Directors. Immediately afterwards he commenced
moving every possible soldier, and commanded the material of war up to
the North-West Frontier, while a large flotilla of boats was built at
Bombay for the purpose of bridges, and sent up the Indus and thence
into the Sutlej opposite Ferozepore, where they were sunk under the
left bank of the river. By these arrangements, dictated by a perfect
military knowledge and by that foresight which bears the stamp of
prediction, Sir Henry Hardinge, in the autumn of 1845, had in readiness
for coming events nine regiments of British Infantry, three regiments
of British Cavalry, a most powerful train of Field Artillery (with
upwards of 100 field-guns, 6 and 9-pounders, and a powerful battering
train in progress), a large force of Regular and Irregular Cavalry, and
forty regiments of Native Infantry. The isolated post and fortress of
Ferozepore had been reinforced by twenty-four field guns, a regiment
of British Infantry, and Cavalry and Native Infantry, until a force
of upwards of 7000 men composed a Corps under Major-General Sir John
Littler, for the double purpose of defending Ferozepore from insult and
watching the ghauts, or fords, of the Sutlej. The assembling force was
put into Brigades and Divisions, and equipped to take the field either
on the initiative or defensive.

In December all negotiations and communications between the Regency
and ourselves had ceased at the dictation of the Sikh army, which
was clamorous for war with the British, and openly vaunted it would
place the Rani and her son upon the Imperial Throne of Delhi, and a
correspondence was actually established with that city and the line
conducting to it, for the supply of provisions to the Sikh army. This
act of treachery on the part of British subjects will show what would
be the stability of British rule in India on any other basis than that
of military power.

The means of obtaining information on the part of our political
officers, as results prove, was defective; nor can any credit attach
to Sir John Littler as a watchful outpost officer, when the enemy
gradually crossed by boats (not a bridge) an army of 70,000 men of all
arms, with an immense train of artillery and overwhelming force of
cavalry, with stores enormous, and positively established themselves
under the Commanders Tej Singh and Lal Singh, ere our authorities were
aware of it, civil or military, fortified a strong position near and
embracing the village of Ferozeshuhur, and made a demonstration as of
attack in front of Ferozepore. This was in the middle of December.
This development and invasion called for, and was met by, the most
active and vigorous measures on the part of the Governor-General and
Council. Every available regiment was pushed forward without waiting
to assemble Divisions and Brigades, although all were in order, and a
very able organization was effected, as far as the programme went. The
troops made double or forced marches, with the result that the force
of cavalry under Brigadier White, the 1st Division under Major-General
Sir Harry Smith,[133] and one Brigade of the 2nd Division under
Major-General Gilbert, reached Moodkee much fatigued and exhausted on
the morning of the eventful 18th December. One of the most able and
enterprising movements at this stage of the war was the evacuation of
Loodiana, except its fort, by order of the Governor-General, and the
march of the troops thence on Busseean, which reinforcement, joining
the troops on their hasty march on Moodkee, ensured the victory about
to be contended for.

On the 18th December a considerable force of the British army had
reached Moodkee, much exhausted, as has been said, by the necessary
length of marches and a want of water and the power of cooking.
Brigades were assembled, but not Divisions. The troops had some of them
barely reached their bivouac, when the advance of the Sikh army with
clouds of cavalry demanded an immediate turn-out in preparation to
resist an attack of fresh and infatuated troops, excited by personal
hatred, natural vanity, and the stimulants of spirits, opium, and
bangh. In place of awaiting the coming storm, our united forces being
compact, each arm in support of the other, the whole on an open plain
ready to receive the onslaught, our troops were hurried unnecessarily
into the field, and the cavalry and artillery rushed into action. Our
cavalry and artillery had driven back the Sikh cavalry most gallantly
into a very jungly or bushy country, when the enemy’s infantry brought
them up and occasioned a very considerable and most unnecessary loss.
The infantry meanwhile advancing, the right Brigade of the 1st
Division upon the right of the army under the command of Brigadier
Wheeler, but under the eye of Sir Harry Smith, was fiercely assailed
by an almost overwhelming force of Sikh infantry. These it boldly
repulsed, and, continuing to advance, took six guns and caused the
enemy an inconceivable loss. The dust was so darkening, the enemy could
only be discovered by its density and the fire.

The first part of this action was on an open country with occasional
large dense and thorny trees, into which the enemy climbed and caused
the 50th Regiment great loss. This Brigade (H.M.’s 50th, and the 42nd
and 48th Regiments Native Infantry) was more engaged than any other
part of the army. Many officers and upwards of 150 soldiers of the 50th
were wounded. Brigadier Wheeler was wounded severely; Major-General
Sale, Q.M.G. of H.M.’s Forces, who had attached himself to Sir Harry
Smith, mortally. On this occasion Sir Harry Smith greatly distinguished
himself on his celebrated black Arab “Jem Crow,” by seizing one of the
colours of H.M.’s 50th Regiment and planting them in the very teeth of
a Sikh column, and gloriously did the Regiment rush on with bayonet,
and fearful was the massacre which ensued. The left Brigade of the 1st
Division was engaged to the left of the line under Brigadier Bolton of
H.M.’s 31st Regiment (who fell mortally wounded), while the Brigades
of the 2nd Division under Major-General Gilbert and Major-General Sir
John McCaskill occupied the centre. Sir John was shot through the heart.

It is a curious circumstance in this battle that so obscured was all
vision by the dust, that it afterwards appeared that the bulk of the
Sikh forces passed in column along the front of the 1st Brigade of the
1st Division, and when repulsed by the 2nd Brigade 1st Division and
[ ] Brigade 2nd Division, were driven again across the front of the
50th, the advance of which was pushed by Sir Harry Smith. After the
troops were halted, the dust dispelled and the moon was up and shining
brightly. The 1st Brigade 1st Division then formed an obtuse angle
with the rest of the army. This brigade had gone right through the
Sikh repulsed columns. The 1st Division this day took twelve of the
seventeen guns captured from the enemy.

The Division lost at Moodkee—

Killed. Wounded. Missing. Total.

79 339 19 437

Both Brigadiers were knocked down, and one died of his wounds.

After the action the troops returned to their camp, which they reached
about half-past twelve.

CHAPTER XLIII.

BATTLE OF FEROZESHAH (OR FEROZESHUHUR) 21ST DECEMBER, 1845, AND
RESUMED BATTLE OF 22ND DECEMBER—THE ARMY MOVES INTO POSITION
AT SOBRAON.

Early in the morning of the 19th parties were sent out to bring in the
wounded, and our cavalry outposts pushed forward to cover this, as
also to enable our artillery to bring in the captured guns, amounting
to seventeen. The enemy having made a reconnaissance with a large body
of cavalry, which created an alarm in the camp, the troops were turned
out and took up a very faulty position in front of Moodkee. In this
village there is a very tenable little fort, which was of great use to
us. About one o’clock, the enemy making no forward movement, the troops
were turned in to cook. During the afternoon all was quiet.

On the 20th every arrangement was made for the care of the sick,
wounded, stores, etc., at Moodkee, and the troops, well completed in
ammunition, prepared to march on the memorable 21st December. As yet no
direct communication was established with Sir John Littler, in command
of the 7000 men at Ferozepore. These were still isolated and subject
to a weighty attack of the enemy, who could attack with facility and
still hold his position around the village of Ferozeshuhur. This was
strongly fortified and bristling with cannon, and there was plenty
of water for both men and horses. Hence our object was to effect a
combination with the Ferozepore force ere the enemy anticipated us,
unless his correct information of our movements led him to attack
either one or both of our columns moving mutually to a point of
concentration, for Littler’s force was ordered to move out and meet our
advance. (This was by no means a difficult or dangerous movement, the
distance from Moodkee to Ferozepore not exceeding that from the Sikh
army at Ferozeshuhur.)

The troops marched from Moodkee in order of battle (almost crossing
the front of the enemy’s position), and moved in the direction of
Ferozepore, from whence Littler’s column was also moving to effect
the junction, which took place about ten o’clock in the morning. Sir
H. Hardinge, as Governor-General, had interdicted any attack upon
the enemy’s lines until the junction was effected, a most fortunate
interdiction for British India.[134] So soon as the army was collected,
Sir H. Hardinge turned to Sir H. Gough and said, “Now the army is at
your disposal.”

Sir Hugh made immediate arrangements to attack, although much most
valuable time was lost in those arrangements, nor were Generals of
Division made the least aware of how or what or where they were to
attack. The army was one unwieldy battalion under one Commanding
Officer who had not been granted the power of ubiquity. My opinion
may be called one after the result, but I formed it while the troops
were arranging in order of battle. I now record it leisurely and most
deliberately. Had I commanded, I should have moved in contiguous
columns of brigades, my cavalry protecting my advance up to the enemy’s
position till within range of his guns, the troops so moving as to
be able to anticipate any movement of the enemy to the discomfort of
Ferozepore, and to enable me to throw the weight of the attack upon
the right of the enemy, if, as I apprehended from all I had heard, he
was as assailable upon his right as on any other given point. I say I
would have thrown the weight of my attack upon his right, because he
was most formidable in his entrenched position, and if that right was
to be carried as I anticipated, my victorious troops could have acted
on the line of his retreat, which, being comparatively left open, gave
him an opportunity to avail himself of it, and not to fight with that
desperation that even bad troops will show if they are hemmed in. So
soon as my advancing columns had attained to barely within the range of
the enemy’s guns, I would have carefully reconnoitred him, and compared
ocular demonstration with the accounts of the enemy’s interior
arrangements of defence afforded by spies, taking with me each General
of Division as I passed the front of his troops. This reconnaissance
would have enabled officers in command to see their way. The whole
weight of my attack should have been on the enemy’s right and right
centre, which would have given me the advantage which the principles
of war so justly and truly demand, “To be superior to your enemy on
the point of attack.” The enemy’s position was his favoured one,
semicircular, the centre near the village of Ferozeshuhur, where there
were good wells, and also pond water for cattle. By a weighty attack
on a given point, the half of the enemy’s cannon in position would
have been lost to him and innocuous to us. Whereas we attacked in what
may almost be termed lines of circumvallation of the enemy’s crescent,
thus presenting ourselves as targets to every gun the enemy had.
Our artillery was massed about the centre of the army; six-pounders
opposed to the enemy’s guns in embrasures, and of a calibre or weight
beyond the range of our six-pounders; hence the mortality and wrongly
imputed inefficiency of that arm, a noble arm when called forth in its
legitimate field.

The 1st Division, mine, was separated, the 1st Brigade, under Brigadier
Hicks, being to the right of the mass of artillery, the 2nd Brigade to
the left of that arm, which covered from three-quarters to a mile of
ground. The whole Division was regarded as the reserve to the centre of
the army. Sir John Littler’s, the Ferozepore force, was on the left.
In this order the army advanced to the attack. There was plenty of
daylight; the imputation of attacking too late in the day is unfounded,
as I will plainly show, although I was not then, nor am I now, an
advocate for so precipitate an attack, made without any knowledge of
the enemy’s position beyond the lies and contradictory stories of
spies. An attack on a rear-guard ought to be precipitated _coûte que
coûte_; an attack on an army delayed until science can be applied with
the greatest decision.

Having posted my right Brigade, I joined the left and correctly posted
it, strictly in obedience to the orders I had received from the
Commander-in-Chief in person. My Division thus posted, I rode forward
with a desire of having a look at the enemy’s position, and came up
to Sir H. Hardinge, who was in doubt what some guns were upon our
left, which had just been brought into action. I galloped forward to
ascertain, and reported they were of Littler’s force, that his attack
appeared to me one of no weight from its formation, and that, if the
enemy behaved as expected, it would fail. Sir H. Hardinge said, “Then
bring up your Division.” I explained I had only one Brigade; I could
bring up that. He ordered it up, and I pretty quickly had it on the
move to the front, to the left of Gilbert’s, or the 2nd Division, and
to the right of Littler’s.

At this moment Gilbert’s left was not only checked in its advance,
but actually falling back, and I had some difficulty in establishing
myself on the front line in consequence of the broken troops falling
back upon me. Scarcely was I firmly established, when Major Broadfoot,
the Political Agent, rode up and said, “Be prepared, General. Four
Battalions of Avitabile’s[135] are close upon you in advance; I have
it from correct information—a man in my pay has just left them.” The
smoke and dirt rendered everything at the moment invisible. I saw,
however, that to resist this attack, which was evidently made to take
advantage of our check, and penetrate our line between Littler’s
right and Gilbert’s left, I must bring up the right of my Brigade.
I endeavoured to do so, and with H.M.’s 50th Regiment I partially
succeeded, under a storm of musketry and cannon which I have rarely,
if ever, seen exceeded. My native troops staggered and some receded,
while the gallant old 50th bore the whole brunt, opening a rapid fire.
At this moment poor Major Arthur Somerset[136] was struck down, a most
accomplished soldier for his experience, and of a promise to emulate
his great ancestor the Duke, had Almighty God been pleased to spare him
to his country. I never saw a more cool, judicious, and gallant officer
than my dear and lamented friend, Arthur Somerset. If the tears of a
veteran could decorate the hero’s tomb, every vein upon it would be
full. Poor youth! “Sic transit gloria mundi!”

The enemy was at this moment in his bearing noble and triumphant. So
fast were officers and men falling, I saw there was nothing for it but
a charge of bayonets to restore the waning fight. I, Colonel Petit, and
Colonel Ryan put ourselves at the head of the 50th, and most gallantly
did they charge into the enemy’s trenches, where such a hand-to-hand
conflict ensued as I had never before witnessed. The enemy was repulsed
at this point, and his works and cannon carried, and he precipitately
retreated. I pushed forward with the 50th in line until we reached the
enemy’s camp. All order was broken by the tents, but my orders and
example were “Forward! Forward! Forward!” I saw a village occupied
by the enemy full in my front, about 400 yards away. By this time I
was joined by many stragglers of regiments from my right or Gilbert’s
Division, but no one from my left or Littler’s. I was therefore
apprehensive of my left flank, nor was I aware (from the obscurity
created by the dust) whether the four Battalions of Avitabile’s were
repulsed, or indeed where they were. I resolved, therefore, to carry
the village, which I soon did in gallant style with H.M.’s 50th and
a detachment of the Honourable Company’s 1st European Light Infantry
under Captain Seaton and Lieutenant ——. The colours of H.M.’s 50th were
gallantly borne forward by Brevet Captain Lovett and Lieutenant de
Montmorency. I was the first officer in the Head-quarters village of
the Sikh army, Ferozeshuhur, and I planted one of the colours of H.M.’s
50th on the mud walls. A scene of awful slaughter here ensued, as the
enemy would not lay down their arms. The village was full of richly
caparisoned and magnificent horses, and there were camels around it
innumerable.

After about half an hour the dust cleared away upon my left, and I
saw that Avitabile’s Battalions had been driven back by my charge,
but Littler’s Division had made no impression upon the enemy where
he attacked. The victory appeared complete on my right; crowds of
advancing, straggling officers and soldiers came up, and I resolved
again to push forward. The evening was fast closing, but before
dark I carried the enemy’s camp half a mile beyond the village,
and endeavoured to collect and form the stragglers upon H.M.’s
50th—amounting, I conceive, to near 3000 men. For the first hour,
so excited were the men, I could make no formation, which I little
regarded at the moment, expecting every instant to hear the victorious
army upon my right. Not doing so, on the contrary, hearing the enemy
in force close to my front and right (it was very dark), I saw at once
I had pushed the victory far beyond [the ground held by our army],
and that my position was critical in the extreme. I therefore made a
vigorous and determined exertion to establish a formation, and I got
the 24th Regiment Native Infantry—one of my own Division—in line upon
my right under Major Bird, and about 150 of the 1st European Light
Infantry under Captain Seaton, and proceeded to form the whole in a
semicircle in front of the enemy’s camp, my flank being well refused
towards the village. Scarcely was this first formation effected, when
the enemy made rather a sharp attack upon my right and drove back the
formed troops. The darkness prevented the enemy continuing his success,
and the noise and clamour of my troops in the endeavour to form
indicated that I still held my ground. Thus I was compelled to reoccupy
my right and contract the circle of formation. In this arduous duty I
(and the Service still more so) was deeply indebted to Major Hull of
the 16th Grenadiers, who, after he received a wound of which he died in
a few hours, continued to do his duty, and aid me beyond my expression
under a murderous fire of musketry, grape, round shot, and grisaille.

I at length got all the stragglers, consisting of some of H.M.’s 9th
Regiment under Major Barwell,

The 19th Grenadiers Native Infantry
" 24th Regiment " "
" 28th " " "
" 73rd " " "

and many others, upon the 50th, which was well in hand.

The moon arose, and the night was as bright as day. The enemy soon
discovered the weakness and isolation of my force, and gradually
closed in upon me, keeping up a most destructive fire. My A.A.G.
and Q.M.G. were both wounded, their horses killed—every officer and
soldier dead-tired, so that many were killed fast asleep, both officers
and men. I was fully aware of the importance of my post, in the very
centre of and beyond the enemy’s entrenched position, and although I
could hear nothing of our army or see any bivouac fires, I resolved to
maintain myself to the last. The loss, however, became every moment
more heavy, and officers and soldiers were restless and sensible
of their critically advanced position. The enemy got a gun to bear
directly on my rear; my course was decided for me, and I at once saw
indications of the impossibility of maintaining myself any longer.

It was now three o’clock in the morning. To withdraw without being
compromised was a most perilous operation, for I was surrounded,
while the enemy were shouting and cheering, beating up troops, and
calling out to us in French and English, as well as Hindoostani, that
we were in their power. I therefore feigned to attack, opened a fire
and under the smoke quietly drew off, H.M.’s 50th leading. For the
last arrangement, this was my reason—if I were opposed, the 50th would
charge through such opposition; if pressed on my rear and the native
troops rushed past me, I then had a rear-guard of H.M.’s troops which
I could depend on. The enemy never discovered my retrograde movement
until I was out of his power.

I then marched straight, leaving Ferozeshuhur to my left and continuing
my route (guided by the moon and the dead soldiers on the line by
which I advanced). I soon fell in with a vedette, and, concluding
all was right and seeing a bivouac fire, regarded it as the picquet
of cavalry from which he was posted. Upon reaching the fire, I found
it belonged to the wounded men of H.M.’s 62nd Regiment and others,
under some surgeons, who knew nothing whatever of our army. It was
presumptuously urged upon me by several officers, who ought to have
thought before they spoke, to move on Ferozepore. My answer was decided
enough. “The Commander-in-Chief with his army is not far from us,
meditating an attack as soon as it is daylight, and find him I will if
in h—ll, where I will join him, rather than make one retrograde step
till I have ascertained some fact.” At the moment a large flame mounted
up, as if soldiers were lighting a large fire. I exclaimed, “There’s my
point, friend or foe.”

In about three-quarters of a mile I reached the fire, the village
of Misreewalla, where I found a Brigade of Cavalry, some Irregular
Horse, some Horse Artillery, and two or three thousand stragglers of
every Regiment in the army. I halted my people and got hold of some
spirits, which I issued to my gallant 50th and all the Europeans.
Soon after I reached Misreewalla I met Captain Lumley, A.A.G. of the
Army and at the head of the Department (General Lumley being sick,
and Major Grant desperately wounded at Moodkee). I was delighted to
see him, concluding he came direct from the Commander-in-Chief. He
said, “Sir Harry Smith, you are the very man I am looking for. As
senior officer of the Adjutant-General’s department, I order you to
collect every soldier and march to Ferozepore.” I said, “Do you come
direct from the Commander-in-Chief, with _such an order_? If you do,
I can find him, for, by G——, I’ll take no such order from any man on
earth but from his own mouth. Where is he?” “I don’t know, but these
in my official [position] are the orders.” “D—— the orders, if not the
Commander-in-Chief’s. I’ll give my own orders, and take none of that
retrograde sort from any Staff officer on earth. But why to Ferozepore?
What’s the matter?” “Oh, the army has been beaten, but we can buy the
Sikh soldiers.” “What!” says I, “have we taken no guns?” “Oh yes,” he
says, “fifty or sixty.” “Thank you,” I said; “I see my way, and want
no orders.” Turning round to my A.G., Captain Lugard, I said, “Now get
hold of every officer and make him fall in his men.”

At this moment Captain Christie, in command of an irregular Corps of
Horse, a most excellent officer, came up and said he knew the direction
the Commander-in-Chief was in and could point it out. I was delighted,
and I marched off every man able to move to join Sir Hugh Gough,
sending forward my wounded A.G. to report my whereabouts and what
troops I had with me. The Commander-in-Chief was as delighted to hear
of me and my troops as I was to find His Excellency. His orders were to
move up in support of the attack which I well and truly anticipated he
meditated, when to my astonishment I saw the village of Ferozeshuhur
full in my front two miles distant, the very post I had carried and
occupied the night before, and from which, after having held it until
three o’clock that morning, I was compelled to withdraw, or I should
have remained there nearly by myself.[137]

The attack was made on the part of the enemy’s camp he still held,
namely, his right, which had repulsed Littler’s attack on the afternoon
of the 21st. It was now carried without a check. The 1st Brigade of my
Division, especially H.M.’s 31st Regiment, greatly distinguished itself
and suffered severely.

Scarcely was the victory of the 21st and 22nd December over, when
a fresh body of the enemy (which had been watching Ferozepore
or threatening an attack if the garrison was withdrawn, and had
been deluded through Littler’s very judiciously leaving his camp
standing) came vaunting upon the left of our line and opened a fierce
cannonade upon us, literally within what had been their own camp and
entrenchments. The ammunition for our guns was fully expended, and our
troops were literally exhausted, and we could not attack what would
have been an easy prey under other circumstances. The whole of the
enemy withdrew and recrossed the Sutlej unmolested, for our troops
were in no condition to pursue. Our numerous wounded required to be
collected, our stores to be brought up, our troops to be refreshed.

From the march of the troops from Umbala and Loodiana upon Busseean,
our men had fought three actions, the battles of Moodkee, Ferozeshuhur,
and that of the 22nd December, gained three victories, and endured
great fatigue of marching and privations, especially of what is so
important to the native troops, water.[138] In a day or two the whole
were fresh, and we moved forward on the line the enemy had withdrawn
by. The 1st Division was on the right of the army, and subsequently
Brigadier Cureton’s Brigade of Cavalry (two troops of Horse Artillery,
H.M.’s 16th Lancers, 3rd Light Cavalry, and a corps of Irregular
Horse under a Captain Hill) were posted again to my right and under
my command. My outposts were opposite the enemy. At Sobraon, which
afterwards became so renowned, the enemy threw over a bridge and had
a ford near it; they ably constructed _têtes du pont_, and showed
an intention to cross. To do so was an act of madness which could
not be contemplated by any reasoning faculties, although ultimately
demonstrated.

It appeared to me that our army was not posted where it ought to be,
and I strongly recommended to the Commander-in-Chief to move up the
left bank of the Sutlej, so that his centre should be opposite Sobraon,
and his left be kept in direct communication with Ferozepore by an
intermediate corps under the command of Sir John Grey, which could
also watch the reputed fords and ferries on that part of the river
on his front,—the right of the army, namely, my command, Cureton’s
Cavalry and my own Division, to be posted opposite the ford and ferry
of Hurreekee. The Commander-in-Chief called for the distribution of
the army as I proposed, which I gave in, accompanied by an explanatory
letter to His Excellency. In forty-eight hours it was adopted, and the
army moved into the celebrated position opposite Sobraon. Here the
enemy constructed a bridge of boats and pushed over his whole army,
most strongly fortifying and entrenching himself on the left side of
the river, a movement unparalleled in the history of war from time
immemorial. It may be asked, Why was he permitted? Answer, Because
we could not help ourselves. The right or enemy’s bank was high and
favourable for him in every way, and the bridge was judiciously thrown
over at a bend of the river; hence the natural formation presented a
formidable _tête du pont_, which the enemy entrenched and filled with
cannon of the heaviest calibre. We could not contend with him, our
heavy guns not having arrived, and the left bank of the river being
nearly perfectly flat. Thus he could cross, and did, unmolested, and
duly pushed his outposts forward and ours back, until it was deemed
necessary to counter-fortify our camp in his front, which was done
by bringing some of the heavy guns from Ferozepore. My Division and
command being well to the right, I had a line of outposts from the
confluence of the Beas and the Sutlej to within a mile of the enemy’s
entrenchments at Sobraon.

CHAPTER XLIV.

SIR HARRY SMITH DETACHED FROM THE MAIN ARMY—HE REDUCES THE
FORTRESSES OF FUTTEYGHUR AND DHURMCOTE—COMBINES WITH
COLONEL PHILLIPS AT JUGRAON, AND AFTER CHANGING HIS ROUTE
TO LOODIANA ENCOUNTERS THE ENEMY AT BUDOWAL, AND LOSES
SOME PART OF HIS BAGGAGE—HE RELIEVES LOODIANA, AND, BEING
REINFORCED AND THE ENEMY HAVING RETREATED, OCCUPIES HIS
POSITION AT BUDOWAL.

On the 16th January the Commander-in-Chief sent for me, and told me the
Governor-General was desirous that the small fortress of Futteyghur
and the larger one of Dhurmcote, both slightly garrisoned by the
enemy, should be reduced, as under their cover he was drawing supplies
from the left bank and crossing them over. His Excellency said, “A
Brigade will be sufficient to send, the 3rd Light Cavalry and some
Irregular Horse; but who will you send?” I replied I had rather go
myself. Sir Hugh Gough was much pleased with my offering to do so,
for I subsequently ascertained it was the Governor-General’s desire I
should be ordered. The Commander-in-Chief said, “When will you march?
there is no hurry.” I said, “Soon after this time to-morrow I shall
be writing my report that I have reduced them both.” He laughed and
said, “Why, the distance to Dhurmcote is twenty-six miles from your
right.” I replied, “I know that; still, what I say shall be, provided
that the officer and the Engineers supply me in time with the powder I
want to blow in the gates in the case of necessity.” I said to myself,
“However, powder or no powder, I march.”

When I reached camp, I found that, without my knowledge, the
Commissariat had sent almost all the tent elephants and other transport
into Ferozepore for provisions; some, however, arrived in the night.
These provisions I laid hold of, and I collected every animal in camp
for the use of the troops ordered to move, and I marched two hours
before daylight. On my approach Futteyghur was abandoned, and I pushed
on to Dhurmcote, which I reached by two o’clock in the afternoon, and
found it occupied, but without any gun deserving the name of cannon. I
invested it immediately with the 3rd Light Cavalry and Irregulars (the
infantry not being yet up), and summoned the garrison to surrender.
It received my flag of truce, and the leader or _killadar_ came out
and made a variety of stipulations, which I cut short by saying, “You
may march out with your arms, ground them on the glacis, and I will
endeavour to secure all hands six weeks’ pay. Go back to the fort. I
give you 20 minutes to consider, after which I shall make no terms,
but open my cannon upon you.” I waited 25 minutes, and no communication
being made, although I rode close to the works myself and beckoned to
them, I ordered our 9-pounders and a howitzer to open a few shots. The
Sikh flag was then hauled down, and a white one hoisted. I allowed the
garrison to march out and lay down their arms as prisoners of war,
and as the Infantry arrived, I immediately occupied the fortress and
commenced improving its defences. I was thus able to report, as I had
promised, to my Commander-in-Chief.

I had orders to reconnoitre the country around to ascertain its
resources and the feeling of amity or hostility of the neighbourhood.
Near me the villages were Mussulman and well disposed. Dhurmcote itself
belonged to a Sirdar in the enemy’s camp, but the people, when the hand
of power was manifested, were civil and brought me all the supplies I
required.

Having made so long a march on the 17th and being desirous to put the
fortress in a state of defence, I had resolved to halt on the 18th,
when I received a communication to say that on the 19th I should
receive a reinforcement of two troops of Horse Artillery (viz. 12
guns), H.M.’s 16th Lancers, and the remainder of the corps of Irregular
Horse under Brigadier Cureton. Upon these reaching me, I should have
a Brigade of Cavalry, one of Infantry, and 18 guns. With this force I
was to move on to Jugraon, thence open a communication with Busseean,
the line nine miles to the interior of Jugraon, on which our enormous
battering train, stores, treasure, and ammunition, covering an extent
of ten miles of road, was marching. I was informed that I might get
hold of H.M.’s 53rd Regiment at Busseean, and if so, they were to obey
my orders. Under any circumstances, I was to open a communication
with Loodiana (distant from Jugraon, by the direct roads _viâ_ the
little fortress of Budowal, twenty-five or twenty-six miles), it being
threatened by Runjoor Singh’s army of 50 guns and 30,000 men, which had
crossed at Philour by boats and was in position at Baranhara, seven
miles from Loodiana. The force at Loodiana, under Lieutenant-Colonel
Godby, 30th Regiment N.I., consisted of one Regiment, the 5th Native
Cavalry, the 30th and 36th Sermoor and Nusseeree Battalions, and four
guns Horse Artillery.

On the 19th I marched the Infantry to Koharee, halfway to Jugraon,
which divided the distance, and I left orders at Dhurmcote for Colonel
Cureton to move on the 20th to Jugraon, where he was to join me, which
was effected accordingly. On reaching Jugraon, I received a report from
Lieutenant-Colonel Phillips, commanding H.M.’s 53rd Regiment, to whom
I had sent orders to Busseean to move on without delay to Jugraon. He
begged a day’s halt, representing that his transport was done. I had
opened a communication with Colonel Godby commanding at Loodiana. I
received the most pressing and urgent reasons for my joining him, and
I was equally urged by the Governor-General and the Commander-in-Chief
to move on to save Loodiana and drive back the invaders under Runjoor
Singh and the Rajah of Ladwa. Hence the necessity to concentrate every
soldier I could lay my hands on for the purpose. I therefore sent
Lieutenant Smith of the Engineers over from Jugraon to Busseean, with
a written order for Colonel Phillips to march immediately—provided it
were possible. He marched, and the 16th Lancers and guns had reached me.

I here annex a narrative written at the Period.

“When I reached Jugraon on the 20th January, all accounts agreed
that the enemy was still at Baranhara, thirty miles from me, between
Loodiana and Philour, a fortress of his on the right bank of the
Sutlej, under cover of which he had crossed and perfected his invasion;
but that he had also occupied with a small garrison the fortress of
Budowal, which had been abandoned by the troops of a chief in amity
with us, and that he had near it some two or three hundred Horse. He
was also known to possess a fortress called Gungrana, regarded as
very strong, to my right (that is, its parallel) about ten miles from
Budowal into our interior, where there was also Cavalry.

“I got hold of the 53rd Regiment on the evening of the 20th, the day
I arrived at Jugraon. My force therefore stood thus: eighteen guns,
one Regiment of English Cavalry (16th Lancers), one Regiment of
Native Light Cavalry, one Regiment of Irregular Horse, two Regiments
of British Infantry (H.M.’s 31st and 53rd), 250 convalescents, and
two very weak Regiments of Native Infantry (the 24th and 47th). At
Jugraon was a very tenable fortress occupied by the troops of a
Rajah considered to be friendly, but in time of war and doubtful
success friendship is precarious. I therefore occupied the fortress
(or rather its citadel) by two Companies of my Native Infantry, and
resolved as soon as the moon was up, viz. at half-past twelve, to
march on Loodiana, leaving Budowal to my right, _i.e._ by the best,
shortest, and direct road, and I ordered all baggage which consisted of
_wheel-carriage_ transport, to remain behind under the protection of
the fort of Jugraon.

“Meanwhile, every two hours I dispatched instructions of these my
intentions to the officer who commanded at Loodiana, whom I ordered to
meet me with his force of four Horse Artillery guns, an excellent and
strong Regiment of Native Cavalry, and four good and fresh Regiments
of Native Infantry. All the while I believed the enemy’s force to be
at Baranhara, thirty miles from me, but only seven from Loodiana. My
order of march was in writing, also my instructions for the baggage
and detail of its guards, and I read them on the afternoon of the
20th to all the officers in command. I marched in the most regular
order at the hour appointed, with the desire to leave Budowal to my
right, and not move by the interior line, _i.e._ between Gungrana and
Budowal, two fortresses in the occupation of the enemy, distant only
four miles from _both_ my flanks, so that my march would be subject
to double interruption. The large force nearly equal to mine was to
have approached me from Loodiana, within three miles of Budowal on its
own side, on a strong hill and position I well knew of, Sonnact. The
natives here were most hostile, and it is an axiom, and a very just
one, in the conduct of war, ‘distant combinations are not to be relied
on.’ Hence, although I calculated upon this combination, I did not
rely upon it, but adopted my own measures for advance with caution and
circumspection, relying alone on my own resources.

“When I had marched some sixteen or eighteen miles in the most perfect
order of advance to within two miles of Budowal, as day dawned, I
received a communication from Colonel Godby that the enemy had marched
from Baranhara and was encamped around Budowal with his whole force,
and from some villagers I ascertained that the enemy had received
considerable reinforcements. I found myself thus close upon him, and
he in force. I had one of two alternatives, viz. to move on, leaving
Budowal to my right and most probably the moving Sikh army on my
left—in other words, to force my passage; or to leave Budowal to my
left and make a _détour_ towards Gungrana. To return to Jugraon I never
contemplated, which would have exposed Colonel Godby as previously
stated. The stake at issue was too great, hence I changed my order of
march and proceeded with every precaution, leaving the fort of Budowal
on my _left_, and with my troops in order of battle by wheeling into
line to their left if required. Several times during our night march we
had observed rockets firing, as if for signals, and at broad daylight
we discovered the enemy preparing to interrupt my newly adopted line of
march, though his most ample preparation, as I afterwards discovered,
had been made for my reception on the more direct road by which I had
originally intended to move, and upwards of forty pieces of cannon
pointed there, so perfect was his information.

“So soon as the enemy had discovered that I had changed my line of
march for the relief of Loodiana, he immediately attempted to interrupt
my force by moving parallel to my column through a line of villages
which afforded him cover and protection, and by providing him with good
roads facilitated his march, while I was compelled to move in order of
battle over ploughed fields of deep sand. Hence the head of the enemy’s
column, principally a large body of cavalry, rapidly outflanked me a
mile at least, and his rear of guns and infantry equally so. With great
celerity he brought to bear on my troops a considerable number of guns
of very heavy metal. The cavalry moved parallel with the enemy, and
protected from the fire of his guns by a low ridge of sandhills. My
eighteen guns I kept together close in rear of the cavalry, in order
to open a heavy fire on the enemy and to check his advance, thereby
attracting his attention, so soon as the fortunate moment which I saw
approaching arrived.

“This fire, which I continued for some ten minutes, had a most
auxiliary effect, creating slaughter and confusion in the enemy’s
ranks. The enemy’s cannonade upon the column of Infantry had been
previously to this furious. I had reinforced the baggage guard, and
sent orders that it should close up and keep well on the reverse flank
and as much ahead as possible. A few round shot ricocheting among
the camels, many of the drivers abandoned their animals, and our own
followers and the hostile villages in the neighbourhood plundered a
part of the baggage: little of it fell into the hands of the enemy’s
soldiers.

“As the column moved on under this cannonade, which was especially
furious upon the rear of the Infantry, the enemy, with a dexterity
and quickness not to be exceeded, formed a line of seven battalions
directly across my rear, with guns in the intervals of battalions,
for the purpose of attacking _my_ column with _his_ line. This was a
very able and well-executed move, which rendered my position critical
and demanded nerve and decision to evade the coming storm. I would
willingly have attacked this line, and I formed up a part of the 31st
Regiment as a base, when so deep was the sand and so fatigued were my
men, I was compelled to abandon the project. I therefore, under this
fierce cannonade, changed front on the centre of the 31st Regiment and
of the 53rd by what is a difficult move on parade even—a countermarch
on the centre by wings. Then became conspicuous the majesty of
discipline and bravery. This move was executed as accurately as at a
review.

“My Native Regiments were very steady, but I now directed the Infantry
to march on Loodiana in échelon of Battalions, ready to receive the
word ‘Halt, Front’ (when they would thus confront the enemy’s line if
he advanced), and the Cavalry to move in échelon of squadrons, the two
arms mutually supporting, the guns in rear of the Cavalry. The whole
were moving most correctly and the movement was so steady that the
enemy, notwithstanding his overwhelming force, did not attack, but
stood amazed, as it were, fearing to quit his stronghold of Budowal,
and aware that the junction of my force with that of Loodiana was about
to be accomplished.

“I was astonished, I admit, at hearing nothing from Colonel Godby. I
had reason to hope some of my two-hourly dispatches had reached him,
and when at daylight I changed the direction of my march on account
of the enemy having anticipated me, I sent Lieutenant Holmes with a
party of Irregulars, cautioning him to look as sharp to his right on
account of Gungrana as to his left. I soon after sent off Lieutenant
Swetenham of the 16th Lancers, and a short time later Lieutenant Band
Smith of the Engineers. All these officers reached their destination.
From the repeated and urgent requests made by Colonel Godby that I
should advance to his relief, from _his then knowledge_ that the enemy
had anticipated me, I had every reason (supposing he had secured no
_positive information_ of my march from Jugraon or my orders) to
expect some co-operation or demonstration in my support, as I moved
towards him. On the contrary, my first messenger found his troops only
turning out, he having only just received my instructions, and his
force did not move off until the firing had commenced, about half-past
seven or eight, at a distance of between eight and nine miles—another
illustration of the truth of the axiom, ‘distant combinations are not
to be relied on.’ The natural expectation, too, of Colonel Godby’s
move towards me cramped my manœuvres, for had I swerved from the
line on which I expected his co-operation, his force would have been
compromised and in the power of the enemy’s weighty attack. The
reinforcement of four guns, a strong and fresh Regiment of Cavalry, and
four Regiments of fresh Infantry is a powerful reinforcement to a large
army; to me it was nearly one-half of the whole. Decision, coolness,
and determination effected the junction and relief of Loodiana, while
it cut off the enemy from his line of communication with Philour, under
which fortress he had crossed the Sutlej.

“A want of water in a position near the enemy compelled me to encamp
in front of Loodiana, but I established my outposts close upon him,
and frequently made strong patrols up to his position, intending, if
he dared attempt to interrupt our line of communication _viâ_ Busseean
(which I did not, although I so closely watched him, anticipate, so
close was I upon him, and the fortress of Jugraon before him), to move
on, _coûte que coúte_, and attack under any circumstances. Indeed, my
combined force would well have enabled me to do so, had I come up with
him when on the march and out of his entrenchments.

“Meanwhile the Commander-in-Chief, with great foresight and judgment,
ordered the second Brigade of my Division, under Brigadier Wheeler, a
Regiment of Native Cavalry, the Body Guard, 400 strong, and four guns
Horse Artillery, to move from Hurreekee _viâ_ Dhurmcote and Jugraon
to join me, while a second Brigade under Brigadier Taylor was ordered
in support to Dhurmcote, and the Shekawuttee Brigade was moving on
Jugraon. Thus the enemy’s position at Budowal was menaced on three
points.

“He expected considerable reinforcements _viâ_ the Tulwun Ghaut,
eight miles lower down the Sutlej than Philour. He therefore,
again with judgment, abandoned his position of Budowal, in which
I was making vigorous preparations to attack him, and fell back
upon the reinforcement of 12 guns and 4000 of Regular Infantry of
Avitabile’s Corps and a large addition of Cavalry. This movement,
however, must have been premeditated, for the stores of ammunition
and his fortifications around the ford were not the work of a day. I
immediately occupied the enemy’s position at Budowal, and as rapidly
as possible concentrated my force coming from Dhurmcote and Busseean
(viz.: Wheeler’s from the former, and the Shekawuttee from the latter),
while I dispensed with the service of Brigadier Taylor’s Brigade in
reserve at Dhurmcote, feeling myself now sufficiently strong, and being
aware of the importance of Infantry to the Commander-in-Chief, who to
reinforce me had considerably reduced his own means in the immediate
front of the main army of the Sikhs. This is the _précis_ of the
campaign leading to the Battle of Aliwal, and from this period taken up
in my report of that glorious battle, herewith annexed.”[139]

CHAPTER XLV.

THE BATTLES OF ALIWAL AND SOBRAON—END OF SIR HARRY SMITH’S
AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

_Major-General Sir Harry Smith, K.C.B., to the Adjutant-General of the
Army._

“Camp, Field of the Battle of Aliwal, Jan. 30, 1846.

“Sir,

“My despatches to his Excellency the Commander-in-Chief of the
23rd[140] instant, will have put his Excellency in possession of
the position of the force under my command, after having formed a
junction with the troops at Loodiana, hemmed in by a formidable body
of the Sikh army under Runjoor Singh and the Rajah of Ladwa. The enemy
strongly entrenched himself around the little fort of Budhowal by
breastworks and ‘abattis,’ which he precipitately abandoned on the
night of the 22nd instant (retiring, as it were, upon the ford of
Tulwun), having ordered all the boats which were opposite Philour to
that Ghat. This movement he effected during the night, and, by making
a considerable détour, placed himself at a distance of ten miles, and
consequently out of my reach. I could, therefore, only push forward
my cavalry as soon as I had ascertained he had marched during the
night, and I occupied immediately his vacated position. It appeared
subsequently he had no intention of recrossing the Sutlej, but
moved down to the Ghat of Tulwun (being cut off from that of Philour,
by the position my force occupied after its relief of Loodiana),
for the purpose of protecting the passage of a very considerable
reinforcement of twelve guns and 4000 of the regular, or ‘Aieen’
troops, called Avitabile’s battalion, entrenching himself strongly
in a semicircle, his flanks resting on a river, his position covered
with from forty to fifty guns (generally of large calibre), howitzers,
and mortars. The reinforcement crossed during the night of the 27th
instant, and encamped to the right of the main army.

[Illustration: PLAN of the BATTLE

ALIWAL

JAN. 28^{th} 1846

[_Opposite p. 536._]

“Meanwhile, his Excellency the Commander-in-Chief, with that foresight
and judgment which mark the able general, had reinforced me by a
considerable addition to my cavalry, some guns, and the 2nd brigade
of my own Division, under Brigadier Wheeler, C.B. This reinforcement
reached me on the 26th, and I had intended the next morning to move
upon the enemy in his entrenchments, but the troops required one day’s
rest after the long marches Brigadier Wheeler had made.

“I have now the honour to lay before you the operations of my
united forces on the morning of the eventful 28th January, for his
Excellency’s information. The body of troops under my command having
been increased, it became necessary so to organize and brigade them
as to render them manageable in action. The cavalry under the command
of Brigadier Cureton, and horse artillery under Major Lawrenson,
were put into two brigades; the one under Brigadier MacDowell, C.B.,
and the other under Brigadier Stedman. The 1st Division as it stood,
two brigades:—Her Majesty’s 53rd and 30th Native Infantry, under
Brigadier Wilson, of the latter corps;—the 36th Native Infantry, and
Nusseree battalion, under Brigadier Godby;—and the Shekawattee brigade
under Major Forster. The Sirmoor battalion I attached to Brigadier
Wheeler’s brigade of the 1st division; the 42nd Native Infantry having
been left at head-quarters.

“At daylight on the 28th, my order of advance was—the Cavalry in
front, in contiguous columns of squadrons of regiments, two troops
of horse artillery in the interval of brigades; the infantry in
contiguous columns of brigades at intervals of deploying distance;
artillery in the intervals, followed by two 8-inch howitzers on
travelling carriages, brought into the field from the fort of Loodiana
by the indefatigable exertions of Lieutenant-Colonel Lane, Horse
Artillery; Brigadier Godby’s brigade, which I had marched out from
Loodiana the previous evening, on the right; the Shekawattee infantry
on the left; the 4th Irregular Cavalry considerably to the right,
for the purpose of sweeping the banks of the wet nullah on my right,
and preventing any of the enemy’s horse attempting an inroad towards
Loodiana, or any attempt upon the baggage assembled round the fort of
Budhowal.

“In this order the troops moved forward towards the enemy, a distance
of six miles, the advance conducted by Captain Waugh, 16th Lancers,
the Deputy Assistant Quarter-Master of Cavalry, Major Bradford, of
the 1st Cavalry, and Lieutenant Strachey of the Engineers, who had
been jointly employed in the conduct of patroles up to the enemy’s
position, and for the purpose of reporting upon the facility and
point of approach. Previously to the march of the troops it had been
intimated to me by Major Mackeson, that the information by spies led
to the belief the enemy would move somewhere at daylight, either on
Jugraon, my position of Budhowal, or Loodiana. On a near approach
to his outposts, this rumour was confirmed by a spy, who had just
left the camp, saying the Sikh army was actually in march towards
Jugraon. My advance was steady; my troops well in hand; and if he had
anticipated me on the Jugraon road, I could have fallen upon his
centre with advantage.

“From the tops of the houses of the village of Poorein, I had a
distant view of the enemy. He was in motion and appeared directly
opposite my front on a ridge, of which the village of Aliwal may be
regarded as the centre. His left appeared still to occupy its ground
in the circular entrenchment; his right was brought forward and
occupied the ridge. I immediately deployed the cavalry into line, and
moved on. As I neared the enemy, the ground became most favourable
for the troops to manœuvre, being open and hard grass land. I ordered
the cavalry to take ground to the right and left by brigades; thus
displaying the heads of the infantry columns; and, as they reached
the hard ground, I directed them to deploy into line. Brigadier
Godby’s brigade was in direct échellon to the rear of the right;
the Shekawattee infantry in like manner to the rear of my left; the
cavalry in direct échellon on, and well to the rear of, both flanks
of the infantry; the artillery massed on the right and centre and
left. After deployment, I observed the enemy’s left to outflank me,
I therefore broke into open column and took ground to my right. When
I had gained sufficient ground, the troops wheeled into line. There
was no dust, the sun shone brightly. These manœuvres were performed
with the celerity and precision of the most correct field day. The
glistening of the bayonets and swords of this order of battle was most
imposing; and the line advanced. Scarcely had it moved 150 yards,
when, at ten o’clock, the enemy opened a fierce cannonade from his
whole line. At first his balls fell short, but quickly reached us.
Thus upon him, and capable of better ascertaining his position, I was
compelled to halt the line, though under fire, for a few moments,
until I ascertained that, by bringing up my right and carrying the
village of Aliwal, I could with great effect precipitate myself
upon his left and centre. I therefore quickly brought up Brigadier
Godby’s brigade; and, with it, and the 1st brigade under Brigadier
Hicks, made a rapid and noble charge, carried the village, and two
guns of large calibre. The line I ordered to advance,—Her Majesty’s
31st Foot and the native regiments contending for the front; and the
battle became general. The enemy had a numerous body of cavalry on the
heights to his left, and I ordered Brigadier Cureton to bring up the
right brigade of cavalry, who, in the most gallant manner, dashed in
among them and drove them back upon their infantry. Meanwhile a second
gallant charge to my right was made by the light cavalry and the
body-guard. The Shekawattee brigade was moved well to the right, in
support of Brigadier Cureton, when I observed the enemy’s encampment
and saw it was full of infantry: I immediately brought upon it
Brigadier Godby’s brigade, by changing front, and taking the enemy’s
infantry ‘en reverse.’ They drove them before them, and took some guns
without a check.

“While these operations were going on upon the right, and the enemy’s
left flank was thus driven back, I occasionally observed the brigade
under Brigadier Wheeler, an officer in whom I have the greatest
confidence, charging and carrying guns and everything before it, again
connecting his line, and moving on, in a manner which ably displayed
the coolness of the Brigadier and the gallantry of his irresistible
brigade,—Her Majesty’s 50th Foot, the 48th Native Infantry, and the
Sirmoor battalion,—although the loss was, I regret to say, severe in
the 50th. Upon the left, Brigadier Wilson, with Her Majesty’s 53rd and
the 30th Native Infantry equalled in celerity and regularity their
comrades on the right; and this brigade was opposed to the ‘Aieen’
troops, called Avitabile’s, when the fight was fiercely raging.

“The enemy, well driven back on his left and centre, endeavoured to
hold his right to cover the passage of the river, and he strongly
occupied the village of Bhoondree. I directed a squadron of the
16th Lancers, under Major Smyth and Captain Pearson, to charge a
body to the right of a village, which they did in the most gallant
and determined style, bearing everything before them, as a squadron
under Captain Bere had previously done, going right through a square
in the most intrepid manner with the deadly lance. This charge was
accompanied by the 3rd Light Cavalry under Major Angelo, and as
gallantly sustained. The largest gun upon the field, and seven others,
were then captured, while the 53rd Regiment carried the village by
the bayonet, and the 30th Native Infantry wheeled round to the rear
in a most spirited manner. Lieut.-Col. Alexander’s and Capt. Turton’s
troops of horse artillery, under Major Lawrenson, dashed among the
flying infantry, committing great havoc, until about 800 or 1000
men rallied under the high bank of a nullah, and opened a heavy but
ineffectual fire from below the bank. I immediately directed the 30th
Native Infantry to charge them, which they were able to do upon their
left flank, while in a line in rear of the village. This native corps
nobly obeyed my orders and rushed among the Avitabile troops, driving
them from under the bank and exposing them once more to a deadly fire
of twelve guns within 300 yards. The destruction was very great, as
may be supposed, from guns served as these were. Her Majesty’s 53rd
Regiment moved forward in support of the 30th Native Infantry, by
the right of the village. The battle was won; our troops advancing
with the most perfect order to the common focus—the passage of the
river. The enemy, completely hemmed in, were flying from our fire,
and precipitating themselves in disordered masses into the ford and
boats, in the utmost confusion and consternation; our 8-inch howitzers
soon began to play upon their boats, when the ‘débris’ of the Sikh
army appeared upon the opposite and high bank of the river, flying in
every direction, although a sort of line was attempted to countenance
their retreat, until _all_ our guns commenced a furious cannonade,
when they quickly receded. Nine guns were on the river by the ford. It
appears as if they had been unlimbered to cover the ford. These being
loaded, were fired once upon our advance; two others were sticking
in the river, one of them we got out; two were seen to sink in the
quicksands; two were dragged to the opposite bank and abandoned.
These, and the one in the middle of the river, were gallantly spiked
by Lieutenant Holmes, of the 11th Irregular Cavalry, and Gunner Scott,
of the 1st troop 2nd brigade Horse Artillery, who rode into the
stream, and crossed for the purpose, covered by our guns and light
infantry.

“Thus ended the battle of Aliwal, one of the most glorious victories
ever achieved in India, by the united efforts of Her Majesty’s and
the Honourable Company’s troops. _Every gun_ the enemy had fell into
our hands, as I infer from his never opening one upon us from the
opposite bank of the river, which is high and favourable for the
purpose—fifty-two guns are now in the Ordnance Park; two sank in the
bed of the Sutlej; and two were spiked on the opposite bank; making a
total of fifty-six pieces of cannon captured or destroyed.[141] Many
jingalls which were attached to Avitabile’s corps and which aided in
the defence of the village of Bhoondree, have also been taken. The
whole army of the enemy has been driven headlong over the difficult
ford of a broad river; his camp, baggage, stores of ammunition and of
grain,—his all, in fact, wrested from him, by the repeated charges of
cavalry and infantry, aided by the guns of Alexander, Turton, Lane,
Mill, Boileau, and of the Shekawattee brigade, and by the 8-inch
howitzers;—our guns literally being constantly ahead of everything.
The determined bravery of all was as conspicuous as noble. I am unwont
to praise when praise is not merited; and I here most unavowedly
express my firm opinion and conviction, that no troops in any battle
on record ever behaved more nobly;—British and native, no distinction;
cavalry, all vying with H.M.’s 16th Lancers, and striving to head in
the repeated charges. Our guns and gunners, officers and men, may
be equalled, but cannot be excelled, by any artillery in the world.
Throughout the day no hesitation—a bold and intrepid advance;—and thus
it is that our loss is comparatively small, though I deeply regret to
say, severe. The enemy fought with much resolution; they maintained
frequent rencontres with our cavalry hand to hand. In one charge, upon
infantry, of H.M.’s 16th Lancers, they threw away their muskets and
came on with their swords and targets against the lance.

* * * * *

“The fort of Goongrana has, subsequently to the battle, been
evacuated, and I yesterday evening blew up the fort of Budhowal. I
shall now blow up that of Noorpoor. A portion of the peasantry, viz.
the Sikhs, appear less friendly to us, while the Mussulmans rejoice in
being under our Government.

“I have, &c.,
“H. G. Smith,
“_Major-General Commanding_.”

My loss during the 21st January was, of killed and wounded and sick
taken, upwards of 200 men, but many of our wounded and exhausted
Infantry were brought off in the Artillery carriages and by the noble
exertions of H.M.’s 16th Lancers, who dismounted and put the sick and
wounded upon their horses. My orders to the baggage guard (composed
of 400 Irregular Horse, to which I afterwards added one squadron of
Regular Native Cavalry) were only half obeyed, or our loss of baggage
would have been next to nothing; but young soldiers are excited under
a heavy cannonade and apprehend more of its deadly effect than I have
ever seen the heaviest cannonade (not grape and canister) merit.

This short but most eventful campaign was one of great difficulty and
embarrassment for the General (or myself). The enemy was concentrated,
whilst my force was to accumulate contingent on a variety of
combinations distant and doubtful.

The political importance of my position was extreme. All India was at
gaze, and ready for anything. Our army—truth must out—most anxious,
the enemy daringly and exultingly regarding himself invincible, as the
_bold_ and _most able_ and energetic move of Runjoor Singh with his
whole force throwing himself between my advance from Jugraon _viâ_
Budowal to Loodiana most fully demonstrated. It is the most scientific
move made during the war, whether made by accident or design, and had
he known how to profit by the position he had so judiciously occupied,
he would have obtained wonderful success. He should have attacked me
with the vigour his French tutors would [have displayed, and] destroyed
me, for his force compared to mine was _overwhelming_; then turned
about upon the troops at Loodiana, beaten them, and sacked and burnt
the city—when the gaze I speak of in India would have been one general
blaze of revolt! Does the world which argues on my affair at Budowal
suppose I was asleep, and had not in clear perspective a full view of
the effect such success of the enemy would have had upon the general
features and character of the war? It must be remembered that our
battering train, an immense treasure, our ammunition, etc., etc., were
not ten miles from me, occupying a line of road of ten miles in length.

The end was accomplished, viz. the battle of Aliwal and its results. In
a few days after the victory I received from my Political Associate,
Major Murchison, a very clever fellow, a long report, of which this is
an extract: “I cannot help mentioning to you that the result of your
decisive victory of the 28th has been the abandonment by the enemy of
_all_ his posts south of the Sutlej from Hurreekee upwards to Nunapoor
Mackohoorvara, and the submission to our rule of a country yielding an
annual revenue of upwards of twenty-five lacs of rupees. The post of
the enemy at Sobraon is now the only one held by the Sikhs south of the
Sutlej.” And again, in a letter from Colonel Godby after he had crossed
into the Jullundur with Brigadier Godby, “I have no doubt the battle of
Aliwal will be esteemed in England as it deserves; it finished a most
painful crisis both in India and in England, and its moral effect in
Hindostan and the Punjaub was greater than any other achievement of
the war. In the Jullundur the natives speak of it as most unaccountable
that the soldiers they thought invincible should be overthrown and
driven into the river in two or three hours, and be seen scampering
through the country before the people had heard of their defeat. The
defeat was so cleanly and unquestionably done, that they ascribed it to
supernatural intervention for the many atrocious crimes of the Sikhs,
especially upon the oppressed followers of the true Prophet.”

All men, especially Generals, reflect in times of peace and quiet upon
their exertions, their enterprises, and the measures they adopted.
Human life once extinct is in this world gone, and how gratifying it is
under Divine Providence to feel that not a soldier under my command was
wantonly, unnecessarily, or unscientifically sacrificed to his country!
Had I adopted any other course at Budowal on the 21st of January than I
pursued, had I not pushed the war entrusted to my conduct with vigour
and effected a junction with the troops at Loodiana, they and the city
would have fallen, and next our treasure, battering train, ammunition,
etc., would have been captured or scattered and lost to the army; had
I sustained a serious reverse, all India would have been in a blaze.
I steered the course invariably pursued by my great master the Duke,
never needlessly to risk your troops or fight a battle without an
object. Hence the decisive victory of Aliwal and its wonderful results
and important aid in repelling the Sikh army at Sobraon and seizing
the capital of his vaunted glory.

Months have now passed since I conducted these operations,[142] and
although reflection as a guide for the future prompts me to find fault
with any movement or march, I cannot, but with the blessing of the
Almighty, I say, “Results even cannot dictate to me—if you had done
this or that, it would have been better.”

Having disposed of my captured cannon[143] (I sent forty-seven to the
fortress of Loodiana, and took five with me to Head-quarters, the most
beautiful guns imaginable, which will, I believe, be placed in St.
James’s Park, London), provided for my sick and wounded, replenished my
ammunition and stores, given over to Brigadier Wheeler the troops he
was to command on the Upper Sutlej, and furnished him and the Political
Agent, Major Murchison, with my views of their operations as a guide,
I marched on the morning of the 3rd February on my route back to the
Commander-in-Chief.

I had with me three troops Horse Artillery, two 8-inch howitzers, the
16th Lancers, the 3rd and 5th Light Cavalry, one corps of Irregular
Horse, H.M.’s 31st, 50th, and 53rd Regiments, and 200 convalescents,
and of Native Infantry the 47th Regiment, and the Sermoor and Nusseeree
Battalions. The rest of my Aliwal heroes remained with Wheeler.

I reached the right of the army on the 7th, and was received by the
Commander-in-Chief with a burst of enthusiastic welcome[144] to be
equalled only by that of the army at large. His Excellency addressed
each Corps in terms as gratifying to them as to me, and I, Staff,
Commanding Officers of Corps, Prince Waldemar,[145] etc., dined with
the Commander-in-Chief, who again, in a speech when drinking our
healths, bestowed upon us every encomium, and attached the utmost
importance to the great cause—our signal victory. The Governor-General
was at Ferozepore.

The ground I had been directed to occupy being filthy to excess, I
begged to move my position, which I was permitted to do on the 8th.
On this day the Governor-General arrived in camp. He sent for me, and
received me with all the warmth of a long-standing friendship, and
bestowed personally upon me all the praises he had so lavishly given me
in his General Orders.

On the 9th, all Generals of Divisions, Brigadiers, and Heads
of Departments were summoned in the afternoon to attend in the
Commander-in-Chiefs tent. I pretty clearly guessed the purport of
such a summons. His Excellency explained to all that the enemy’s
most strongly fortified position was to be attacked at daylight, and
he clearly detailed to each General and Commander his position and
portion of the attack. In my own mind I very much disagreed with my
gallant Commander-in-Chief as to the place of his attack being the most
eligible one. I saw at once that the fundamental principle of “being
superior to your enemy on the point of attack” was lost sight of, and
the whole of our army, with the exception of my Division, which was
reduced to 2400 bayonets, was held in reserve just out of the reach
of the enemy’s cannon. At daylight our heavy guns (which had been
placed with the object of destroying or greatly impairing the enemy’s
defences) opened fire, and with apparent success where the fire was
the most heavy, but to our astonishment, at the very moment of this
success our fire slackened and soon ceased altogether, when it was
ascertained that the ammunition was expended, the officer in command
of the Artillery not having brought half the quota into the field which
was ordered by the Governor-General and the Commander-in-Chief. Thus no
time was to be lost.

* * * * *

At this point Sir Harry Smith’s autobiography breaks off. He laid
down the pen, probably through temporary illness, and never took it
up again. In place of any fuller account of the battle of Sobraon, we
have only the following passages relating to his individual share in
the victory. The first occurs in a letter dated “Camp Lahore, 25th
February, 1846,” and addressed to his sister, Mrs. Sargant.

“Our last fight was an awful one. My reduced-in-numbers Division—only
2400 bayonets—was, as in other fights, placed in reserve, but pretty
soon brought into action, and as at Ferozeshuhur again I had the good
luck to turn the fortune of the day. In so doing I lost out of my
2400 men, 635 killed and wounded [100 more than out of 12,000 men at
Aliwal]. My first attack on the entrenchments was repulsed. I attacked
when _I_ did not wish, and had to take ground close to the river on
the enemy’s left, consequently our right. [Never catch a butting
animal by the horns; though, as a good soldier, obey your superior’s
orders.] By dint of the hardest fighting I ever saw (except Badajoz,
New Orleans, and Waterloo) I carried the entrenchments. By Jupiter!
the enemy were within a hair’s-breadth of driving me back. Their
numbers exceeded mine. And such a hand-to-hand conflict ensued, for 25
minutes I could barely hold my own. Mixed together, swords and targets
against bayonets, and a fire on both sides. I never was in such a
personal fight for half the time, but my bulldogs of the 31st and old
50th stood up like men, were well supported by the native regiments,
and my position closed the fight which staggered everywhere. Then such
a scene of shooting men fording a deep river, as no one I believe ever
saw before. The bodies _made a bridge_, but the fire of our musquetry
and cannon killed every one who rushed. The hand of Almighty God has
been upon me, for I may say to you what all the army knows, I was
foremost in the fight, and on a _noble_ horse the whole time, which
sprang over the enemy’s works like a deer, neither he nor I nor my
clothes being scratched. It is a _miracle_ for which I am, I trust,
even more grateful to my God than humble towards my comrades. You
always so desired I should distinguish myself. I have now gratified
you, although I so egotistically write it to my sister, and in every
battle have I with my noble horses been exposed without a graze. The
only thing was my stick shot out of my hand; my clothes are covered
with blood in many cases. Poor Holdich[146] got a bad wound in the
shoulder and arm. He is a gallant and cool boy as ever lived. He is at
Ferozepore, too far off for me to go and see, or I should do so and
write to his mother.”

The words in square brackets are inserted from a letter to Mr. Justice
Menzies of the Cape. The following additional touches are taken from a
letter to Sir James Kempt, dated 24th February.

“I never was in such a hand-to-hand fight; my gallant 31st and 50th
literally staggered under the war of cannon and musquetry. Behind such
formidable entrenchments I could not get in where I was ordered to
attack, but had to turn my right close to the river, where, if left
alone, I should have commenced. I carried the works by dint of English
pluck, although the native corps stuck close to me, and when I got in,
such hand-to-hand work I have never witnessed. For twenty-five minutes
we were at it against four times my numbers, sometimes receding (never
turning round, though), sometimes advancing. The old 31st[147] and
50th[148] laid on like devils.... This last was a brutal bulldog
fight, although of vast political and definite results; but my fight
at Aliwal was a little sweeping second edition of Salamanca—a stand-up
gentlemanlike battle, a mixing of all arms and laying-on, carrying
everything before us by weight of attack and combination, all hands at
work from one end of the field to the other.”

Sir Harry Smith’s services at Aliwal were thus acknowledged by Sir
Henry Hardinge:

“To Major-General Sir Harry Smith, and to the brave troops he
commanded, the Governor-General conveys the tribute of his admiration,
and the grateful acknowledgments of the Government and the people of
India. The service rendered was most important, and was accomplished
by the ability of the commander and the valour of the troops.”

The following tributes were paid by Sir Henry Hardinge and Sir Hugh
Gough respectively to Sir Harry Smith’s conduct at Sobraon:—

“The Governor-General has much satisfaction in again offering to
Major-General Sir Harry Smith, K.C.B., commanding the 1st Division of
Infantry, his best thanks for his gallant services on this occasion,
by which he has added to his well-established reputation.”

“In his attack on the enemy’s left, Major-General Sir Harry Smith
displayed the same valour and judgment which gave him the victory of
Aliwal. A more arduous task has seldom, if ever, been assigned to a
Division. Never has an attempt been more gloriously carried through.”

CHAPTER XLVI.

(_Supplementary._)

HONOURS AND REWARDS, AND KNITTING OF OLD FRIENDSHIPS.

The news of the victory of Aliwal reached London on 23rd March.[149] It
brought a sense of immense relief to the public mind, which had been
as much disturbed as elated by the costly struggles of Moodkee and
Ferozeshah. The relief was the greater inasmuch as exaggerated reports
had already been received of Sir Harry Smith’s rencontre with the Sikhs
at Budhowal and the loss of part of his baggage. It was at once decided
that the thanks of Parliament should be offered to the victorious
General and his gallant army—and although a few days later came the
news of the crowning victory of Sobraon, it was not allowed to affect
the determination which had been arrived at. The victors of Aliwal were
still to receive a special vote of their own.

None were so delighted at the news of Harry Smith’s victory as the old
Peninsular friends who had watched his career from the beginning,
and while they loved the man, marked in him that military genius and
gallantry which must bring him to the front if only fortune gave him
his chance. At last the chance had come, and he had seized it according
to their utmost hopes.

Captain Kincaid wrote on the 24th March to Mrs. Sargant—

“I congratulate you most heartily on the brilliant success of your
gallant brother, who has nobly vindicated the opinion entertained of
him by every one who has had the opportunity of judging of his rare
professional qualities, for he is one of Nature’s generals. History
will no doubt do justice to his merits. The previous battles were won
by the bulldog courage of the soldier, with the consequent unnecessary
sacrifice of human life; here is a great victory, gained over superior
numbers with comparatively little loss—the judicious proceedings
throughout stamping it as a general’s, and not a soldier’s,
victory.”[150]

Sir James Kempt, the revered friend with whom Harry Smith had kept up
a monthly correspondence from India, wrote in similar terms—

“You may well be proud, my dear Mrs. Sargant, of having such a brother
as Harry Smith.... I have read many details of battles with real
pleasure, but I felt something more than pleasure, I felt the highest
gratification and delight in reading Harry’s admirable dispatch. It
is spoken of by every one whom I have seen in terms of the highest
praise.”[151]

The _Times_ of 25th March, after speaking of Sir Harry’s avoiding
battle at Budhowal, continues—

“The judgment and caution of General Smith on this occasion may be
advantageously contrasted with the headlong and indiscriminating
valour which hurried our troops into the frightful conflicts of
Moodkee and Ferozeshah. In these actions it may literally be affirmed
that Sir Hugh Gough had never seen the enemy until he was in the heat
of action. The Sikh position had not been reconnoitred; the strength
of the Sikh army was unknown.[152]... Sir H. Smith’s action at
Ulleewal is exposed to none of these animadversions.”

The Aliwal dispatch in particular,[153] excited unbounded admiration.
Sir Robert Peel said of it, “The hand that held the pen used it with
the same success with which it wielded the sword.” And Thackeray’s
praise of it in the _Book of Snobs_ is a proof that it appealed to
a master of literary craft no less powerfully than it appealed to a
statesman:

“Let those civilians who sneer at the acquirements of the army read
Sir Harry Smith’s account of the Battle of Aliwal. A noble deed was
never told in nobler language.”

After referring to Sir Henry Hardinge’s conduct at Ferozeshah,
Thackeray continues—

“No, no; the men who perform these deeds with such brilliant valour
and describe them with such modest manliness, _such_ are not Snobs.
The country admires them, their Sovereign rewards them, and _Punch_,
the universal railer, takes off his hat and says, ‘Heaven save
them.’”[154]

On the evening of April 2nd the thanks of both Houses were given
unanimously by separate resolutions to the victors of Aliwal and
Sobraon. In the House of Lords Sir Harry Smith received, to quote the
_Times_, an “unreserved panegyric”[155] from his worshipped master in
warfare, the Duke of Wellington. It cannot be doubted that the proudest
moment of Harry Smith’s life was that in which he read these words of
one so sparing of praise. Some of them were in later days inscribed on
his tomb.

“The distant points of the frontier were threatened; Loodiana was
threatened—I believe it was even attacked, and the cantonments
were burned; and then it was that Sir Harry Smith was sent with a
detachment of troops towards Loodiana, taking possession of various
points on his road—Durrumkote and other places, of which the enemy had
taken possession by bodies of troops which had crossed the Sutlej.
And I beg your Lordships to observe that, when Sir Harry Smith was
sent, he had three objects in view: one to give security to the post
at Loodiana, already reinforced by the arrival there of General
Godby after the battle; the others to keep up his communications
with the rear by the town of Busseean, a point of great strength and
importance, with a view to the communication between Ferozepore and
Loodiana, in the front line, and Ferozepore and Delhi in the rear,
the point from which the heavy train and the means of carrying on
the siege in the ultimate operations were to come. These must have
passed between twenty and thirty miles of the enemy, while the main
body of the army at Ferozepore was not less distant than fifty. These
were the objects, to secure which Sir Harry Smith was detached from
the army. He marched upon Loodiana, and communicated with the British
commander there, who endeavoured to move out to his assistance.
While he was engaged with the enemy on this march, which he made in
order to perform a part of his instructions—namely, to maintain the
communication with Loodiana, they came out from the entrenched camp
and carried off his baggage. I desire to explain that, because it was
the only check which the gallant officer met with throughout the whole
of this operation, and in fact it is the only misfortune, trifling as
it is, which has happened during the whole operations that have taken
place in that part of the country. This loss of the baggage, such as
it is, has been written up as a great misfortune; but, in point of
fact, it could not be otherwise. He was obliged to march within sight
of the entrenched camp, from which the enemy had an opportunity of
attacking him on his march. I beg your Lordships to observe that Sir
Harry Smith had not only to secure his communication with Loodiana,
but likewise to secure his junction with General Wheeler, who, alone,
was not able to contend against the enemy. He performed all those
objects, was joined by General Wheeler, and then moved on to attack
the new position which the enemy had taken up near the river. And, my
Lords, I will say upon this, I have read the account of many a battle,
but I never read the account of one in which more ability, energy,
and experience have been manifested than in this. I know of no one in
which an officer ever showed himself more capable than this officer
has in commanding troops in the field. He brought every description
of troops to bear, with all arms in the position in which they were
most capable of rendering service; the nicest manœuvres were performed
under the fire of the enemy with the utmost precision, and at the
same time with an energy and gallantry on the part of the troops
never surpassed on any occasion whatever in any part of the world. I
must say of this officer, that I never have seen any account which
manifests more plainly than his does, that he is an officer capable
of rendering the most important services, and of ultimately being an
honour to this country.”

Lord Hotham, who had himself served under the Duke, said that Sir Harry
Smith had had the advantage of seeing an extent of service which it had
been the fortune of few to witness; but besides, he had the natural
advantages of a remarkably quick conception, unceasing activity, the
most ardent zeal and devotion, and the most undaunted resolution.

In the House of Commons Sir Robert Peel moved the vote, with a recital
of Sir Harry’s many services to his country—

“Of the battle itself I will not speak; the victory was complete,
and it has been so admirably described by the illustrious commander,
that I will not weaken the effect of his narrative. And what, let me
ask, have been the services of this gallant officer? These recent
events have given new lustre to his glory; but he was at the capture
of Monte Video—at the attack upon Buenos Ayres; he served during the
Peninsular War, from the battle of Vimeira to that of Corunna. He was
then wounded in another action, but he was at the battles of Sabugal
and Fuentes d’Onor and the sieges of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajos,
at the battles of Salamanca, Vittoria, Orthes, the Pyrenees, and
Toulouse. He was at Washington and at New Orleans, and finally he
was at Waterloo. What a series of noble services, and how rejoiced I
am that there should be an opportunity, through this new and signal
victory, of bringing before the gladdened eyes of a grateful country
a long life of military exertion, and an unbroken series of military
honours! After he had achieved that success for which we are about to
give him our special thanks—after he had driven back the enemy across
the Sutlej, he instantly returned to rejoin his commanding officer,
Sir Hugh Gough. He arrived on the 8th, two days before the decisive
victory gained by the forces under Sir Hugh Gough and Sir Henry
Hardinge. But for his services in the victory of the 28th of January,
I propose that there should be a distinct and separate vote—distinct
and separate from that which I shall recommend for that not more
glorious, though perhaps more important achievement accomplished at a
later date by the whole British army.”

Sir De Lacy Evans, an old friend,[156] took occasion to defend Sir
Harry from the unfounded notion that he had suffered any sort of
reverse at Budhowal.

On the 4th April Sir Robert Peel wrote to inform Sir Harry Smith that,
on his recommendation, the Queen had bestowed on him a Baronetcy of the
United Kingdom. To the title were appended, as a special distinction,
the words “of Aliwal.”[157] At the same time Sir Henry Hardinge and Sir
Hugh Gough were raised to the peerage as Viscount Hardinge and Baron
Gough. While, however, Viscount Hardinge was further granted an annual
sum of £3000, and Lord Gough one of £2000, in each case for three
lives, no such material reward was given to Sir Harry Smith.

On April 6th Sir Harry was appointed a Major-General on the staff
of the army in the East Indies, _vice_ Sir R. H. Dick killed in
action; and on the 7th Prince Albert and the Duke of Wellington
wrote separately to acquaint him that the Queen had approved of his
appointment to be a Knight Grand Cross of the Bath.

On April 2nd the General Court of the East India Company echoed the
thanks already passed by the Board of Directors; and on April 6th the
Court of Common Council of the City of London voted to Sir Harry Smith,
along with Sir Henry Hardinge and Sir Hugh Gough, their thanks and
congratulations and the freedom of the city. The Council of the Borough
of Liverpool passed resolutions of thanks on the same day.

Let us now turn to the recipient of these honours.

On 20th May Sir Harry Smith wrote to Sir Robert Peel to express his
gratitude to Her Majesty for the baronetcy conferred upon him and to
the House of Commons and Sir Robert himself for the honour paid him in
that assembly. He could not forbear adding—

“I have been fortunate indeed to be reared in the military school of
our great Duke. To meet His Grace’s unqualified approbation in the
face of the world is an honour, I must admit, I have ever contended
for, but never hoped to have thus realized.”

A week later he sent his thanks to the Duke himself, and also assured
him “how grateful I and Juana, my Spanish wife, are, for the messages
sent us.”

On 16th June he wrote from Simla to his old Peninsular friend, Major
George Simmons[158]—

“I have received,” he says, “since the battle of Aliwal, more than
150 letters of heartfelt gratification.... From every old General I
have served with left to us, from every old comrade of the Light and
4th Divisions, have I received every expression of their approbation,
their happiness in my having realized their often-expressed
anticipations. Your old friend Juana’s good sense, which you so
kindly give her credit for, keeps pace with her delight in all the
congratulations of our friends. Then, George, comes the encomium of
the Duke. Dear old Master, if I have done that which meets _your_
approbation, then is the cup of glory full indeed, for it is to your
example I have desired to apply any share of ability bestowed upon me.
I have had, too, from him the kindest messages, and to his old friend
Juanita, as he still calls her.... I have had a letter from Joe, who
tells me your happiness was such that your nerves so thrilled through
your desperate old wounds as to make you quite ill.... I begin to long
to get once more to my native land; mine has been an awful banishment.
I do so long to seize by the hand all those old friends who have so
adhered to me notwithstanding my absence, and who thus so kindly
feel my success and honours _their own_.... Our old dear and mutual
friends, Sirs Kempt, Barnard, and Lord F. Somerset, have written in
most enthusiastic terms.”

To another old friend, Mr. Justice Menzies[159] of the Cape, he writes
on 26th June. After recounting the story of the campaign, he tells of
his coming movements—

“I and Juana start _dak_ in the month of July for Cawnpore, my
division. She will leave the hills before cold, contrary to sense, but
in strict usage, with her unvaried attachment.”

After the significant statement, “I am out of debt,” he signs himself—

“one who, if affection can make him so, is worthy of your faithful
friendship, hot-headed Harry Smith.”

The following letters explain themselves:—

“To Lieutenant-General Sir Andrew Barnard, G.C.B., K.C.H.,
“Colonel 1st Battalion Rifle Brigade.

“Cawnpore, India, 29th July, 1846.

“Sir,

“The honorary distinctions recently conferred upon me by our gracious
Queen enable me to take supporters to my family arms. I have the
honour, therefore, to acquaint you, and to request you to be so
good as to make it known to my gallant comrades, the Rifle Brigade,
both 1st and 2nd Battalions—having served with each Battalion from
the storm and capture of Monte Video [through] the whole of the
Peninsular War, and the crowning Battle of Waterloo—I have adopted
a soldier of the Rifle Brigade, a ‘Rifleman:’ and out of respect to
that immortal Light Division, of which the Rifle Brigade and 52nd
Light Infantry formed for so many eventful years the 2nd Brigade,
in which I was the Major of Brigade at the many affairs and battles
this Brigade was so distinguished in, the Coa, Pombal, Foz d’Aruz,
Sabugal, Fuentes d’Onoro, siege, storm, and capture of Ciudad Rodrigo
and of Badajos, Salamanca, San Millan, Vittoria, the heights of
Vera, Irun, crossing the Bidassoa, Nivelle, Nive, many affairs near
Bayonne, Tarbes, Orthes, and Toulouse, involving many days’ sharp
fighting with each named battle, and as no officer in the army has
posted so many outlying picquets of this Brigade as I have, and as I
am indebted to it and the great school of the immortal Wellington for
whatever knowledge of my profession I may have acquired, by which my
most fortunate career has so prospered, I beg the support to my arms
of a soldier of the 52nd Light Infantry and a Rifleman in token of my
veneration for their Corps and as a connecting link of former times
with my present fortune. I have, etc.

“H. G. Smith,
“Major-General.”

“To Major-General Sir Edward Gibbs, K.C.B.,
“Colonel 52nd Light Infantry.

“Cawnpore, India, 29th July, 1846.

“Sir,

“The honorary distinctions recently conferred upon me by our gracious
Queen, enable me to take supporters to my family arms. I have,
therefore, the honour to acquaint you and to request you would make it
known to my gallant comrades, the 52nd Light Infantry, that in full
remembrance of the period I was Major of Brigade to the 2nd Brigade
of the immortal Light Division, of which the 52nd formed so prominent
and distinguished a part, involving the glorious contests of the
Peninsular War; I have adopted a soldier of the 52nd Light Infantry
and a ‘Rifleman’—my own regiment. The many affairs and battles the
brigade so nobly fought in (no man better knows than yourself) include
the Coa, Pombal, Foz d’Aruz, Sabugal, Fuentes d’Onoro; siege, storm,
and capture of Ciudad Rodrigo; siege, storm, and capture of Badajos,
where you lost an eye, as my brigadier; Salamanca, San Munos, San
Millan, Vittoria, the heights of Vera, that most irresistible attack,
although on a fortified mountain; Irun, the crossing of the Bidassoa,
Nivelle, Nive, the many affairs near Bayonne, Tarbes, Orthes, and
Toulouse, with the numerous skirmishes each of these actions entailed
upon light troops. To this Brigade and to the great school of the
illustrious Duke of Wellington am I indebted for that knowledge of
my profession which has led to my personal aggrandisement, and which
has lately acquired me the approbation of the Queen, the Duke of
Wellington, and an expression of thanks from my grateful country. I
pray you, therefore, Sir Edward Gibbs, and the 52nd Light Infantry,
to give me that credit for the feeling of a grateful comrade I desire
to demonstrate, and that you and this renowned corps may regard me as
not unworthy to take a soldier out of your ranks to support me, in
conjunction with their brother-in-arms, a Rifleman, and as the means
in declining life of remembering the gallant Regiment who taught me to
fight for my country. I have, etc.,

“H. G. Smith,
“Major-General.”

In the autumn at Simla Sir Harry Smith was invested with the Grand
Cross of the Bath by the Governor-General, Lord Hardinge. In the
speech he made on this occasion, he exhorted young soldiers to draw
encouragement from his career—

“In 1805, now 41 years ago, I entered the army, one of a family of six
sons and five daughters. I had two brothers in the hottest part of
the battle of Waterloo, and as your Lordship kindly asserted, I may,
with humility, affirm, I have fought my way through the four quarters
of the globe to my present elevated position, unaided by the power of
aristocracy or the influence of wealth. I cite this as an example to
my younger comrades that in our free and unrivalled constitution, the
paths of ambition are open to all.”

On 18th January, 1847, he was appointed Colonel of the 47th Foot, but
was transferred on 16th April to the command of the 2nd Battalion of
his old Regiment, the Rifle Brigade, vacant by the death of Sir D. L.
Gilmour.

In the letter written to Major Simmons on 16th June Sir Harry Smith
had said, “I wonder if Charley Beckwith ever bestows a thought on me
whom he once loved as a brother.” In the course of the autumn came a
charming letter from that noble man,[160] and henceforth the flame of
friendship burnt brightly till both gallant souls had passed away.

“La Tour, Turin, 26th September, 1846.

“My Dear Harry,

“The noise of the guns at Aliwal and Sobraon having died away in the
echoes of the Himalaya, and the éclat and movement of those brilliant
days having melted into the calmer atmosphere of ordinary life, I have
good hopes that the handwriting of one who has never faltered for one
moment in the deep feeling of respect and affection which he will
cherish to his dying day for all his old companions in arms, will not
be unwelcome.

“From the hour in which I saw your name associated with the army
of the Sutlej, you may imagine how carefully I followed all your
movements, how I rejoiced in your success, how anxious I felt in the
usual intervals of doubt and trial.

“I laughed heartily when you lost your baggage, I knew full well
the hearty damns that you sent after Sikhs, coolies, syces, and the
whole rabble rout; saw your keen face as you galloped on the sand,
and admired the cool close order of your movements in the teeth of an
enemy who held-in his very breath in anxious doubt and dread whether
he should dare to touch you; saw the noble array of your clear decided
movement of Aliwal, and went along with you pell-mell as you drove
your enemy headlong into the waters of the Sutlej; triumphed in the
crowning efforts of a long soldier’s life, formed in the school of
true science, common sense, and right-hearted action, and felt a
secret pride that I had been formed in the same school and was able to
estimate such men as Hardinge and Harry Smith. But what did Juana do
in all this row? Was she on horseback abaxo de los cañonaços? Give my
kind love to her and kiss her for me.

“Many years have now gone by, and our outward frames are but the
shadows of what they were, but my mind continues of the same sort.
Character never loses its indelible stamp. Thin and black, my hair
is not yet gray, and you would yet be able to recognize the Charley
Beckwith of the Light Division.... The last enemy has done his worst
on very many of our Peninsular companions. Sir Andrew and some
Riflemen still remain to dine together sometimes in Albemarle Street.
Charley Rowan is letter A, No. 1. Old Duffy regulates the Club,
Johnny Bell cultivates dahlias at Staines, Will Napier misgoverns the
Guernseymen, Johnny Kincaid regulates the secrets of a prison-house,
Jonathan Leach writes histories; thus each labours in his vocation,
and has still a conceit left him in his misery. The chronicle of the
out-pensioners of Chelsea is more spirit-stirring in its former than
in its latter day.... Adieu, Harry, and believe me that you may always
depend on the affection of

“Your old friend,
“Charles Beckwith.”[161]

Harry Smith was raised on 27th February, 1847, to the full rank of
Major-General, dating from 9th November, 1846. He received a further
gratification in an address from his native town, Whittlesey, which had
been prepared by the Rev. G. Burgess, his old schoolmaster, then in his
82nd year. His reply evinced that warm attachment to his birthplace
and native land which had been shown in so many of his private letters
during his long exile. At length he was to see them again. Already in
November, 1846, he had told his sister that he had taken his passage
in a steamer which was to leave Calcutta in the middle of March, and
that he would not “go mooning about the continent,” but “come straight
home.” He sailed as he had said, and reached Southampton after eighteen
years’ absence from his native land on 29th April, 1847.

CHAPTER XLVII.

(_Supplementary._)

IN ENGLAND ONCE MORE—A SERIES OF OVATIONS—LONDON, ELY,
WHITTLESEY, CAMBRIDGE—APPOINTED GOVERNOR OF THE CAPE OF GOOD
HOPE.

Sir Harry Smith was received at Southampton by the General commanding
the South-Western District and a guard of honour. Salutes were fired,
and bells set ringing, and he landed in the presence of thousands of
spectators. The corporation presented an address, and had prepared a
civic banquet. Next day he travelled to London in a special train,
which was put at his disposal by the South-Western Railway Company.

On the 6th May he dined with Her Majesty at Marlborough House; on the
7th he received a deputation from the inhabitants of his native town
of Whittlesey, who were desirous of making him a presentation. It
consisted chiefly of old schoolfellows.

A series of invitations poured in from Her Majesty the Queen, the
Duchess of Kent, the Dukes of Wellington, Montrose, and Beaufort, the
Earl of Ripon, the Lord Mayor, Sir Robert Peel, Sir J. Cam Hobhouse,
Sir De Lacy Evans, etc.[162] On the 18th May his old friend and
commander, Sir Andrew Barnard, presided at a dinner in his honour given
by the Senior United Service Club. On the 20th the freedom of the City
of London was presented to Sir Harry at Guildhall. He returned thanks
for the honour in stirring sentences such as came naturally to him.

“It has been my fate to call upon the British soldier to follow to
victory, and never have I known him to fail. The fear of defeat never
entered the bosom of any one man whom I have seen with the blood of
John Bull in his veins” (great cheering). “So long as England is true
to herself and loyal to her Sovereign, she will stand, as she now
stands, the paramount power of the world” (immense applause).

In the evening of the same day Sir Harry was the guest of a memorable
company, his old Peninsular comrades, the survivors of the Light
Division. They included Sir Hew Ross, Sir Andrew Barnard, the Duke of
Richmond, John Kincaid, Sir John Bell, Jonathan Leach, and Major Smith
(Sir Harry’s “Brother Tom”). Next day the _Times_ wrote as follows:—

“A hundred soldiers dined yesterday together in this city, and all the
gatherings of all the capitals of Europe for half a century to come
will not produce so memorable a reunion. If the muster roll of the Old
Guard could be called and answered, a rival parade might perhaps be
formed, but from no other body whose services modern history records
could another such company be raised. The survivors of the most
renowned division of the most famous army of England’s most famous
war were yesterday once more collected to welcome an ancient comrade
whose victories in more productive but not more honourable fields have
gloriously terminated a career commenced amongst those who bear this
grateful testimony to the fruits of a spirit and character which their
own society and conduct so largely contributed to form.

“On all sides is Sir Harry Smith receiving the due congratulations of
his countrymen and the well-earned meed of his courage. For once, at
least, the metropolitan season is supplied with a reasonable object
of admiration and amusement, but we are much mistaken in Sir Henry’s
disposition, if this, of all the festivities which greet his arrival,
will not convey at once the greatest gratification and the highest
compliment. The same recollections which led the newly created baronet
to pass by the ordinary attractions of blazonry and to turn to the
days and comrades of his youth, to Ciudad Rodrigo and the Pyrenees,
to the 52nd and the 95th, for those figures which should support his
shield and tell of the deeds by which it was won, will teach him
also to value the tribute which he yesterday received above any more
gorgeous or imposing testimony. His cordial countrymen, his gratified
friends—appreciation of his service and admiration of his conduct, he
may meet elsewhere; but at the festival in Willis’ Rooms last night
only, and there perhaps for the last time, could he meet his fellows
and companions in that noble school in which he learnt his soldiership
and to which he owes his fame. Well does it tell for England’s justice
that such merits are at length acknowledged, and that Sir Henry Smith
comes back to find that his ancient comrades and his ancient deeds are
no longer left without the decorations which have been lavished on
more recent services.[163]

“It cannot be the least part of his satisfaction at this
entertainment, to think that, but for him, a gathering so memorable
would never have occurred. This was no anniversary of a recurring
solemnity, no periodical festivity or customary reunion. It did not
take place last year, and it will not take place next. The last
rendezvous perhaps was in the plains of Vittoria, or under the walls
of Toulouse, the next will probably never occur. Already is the circle
of survivors closing rapidly in under a slower but more resistless
enemy than even they ever faced before; the actors, like the deeds,
must soon become subjects of history and examples for imitation, and
it is but too likely that yesterday was sounded the last assembly of
the old Light Division.”

On the 30th June, Sir Harry with Lady Smith left London for Whittlesey,
his native place, and by desire of the people of Ely stopped there
on the way. The story is best told in the words of warm-hearted Adam
Sedgwick.[164]

[Illustration:

SIR HARRY SMITH’S
VISIT TO ELY

Programme of Procession.

Standard Bearer.

TRUMPETER MOUNTED.

Chief-Constable mounted.

Three Police Officers mounted,

Standard Bearer.

GENTLEMEN ON HORSEBACK FOUR A-BREAST.

BAND of the Scots Fusileer Guards.

Drums and Fifes of the Scots Fusileer Guards.

_Chairman of Breakfast—& Rev. E. B. Sparke, & Rev. A. Peyton._

Standard Bearer.

SIR HARRY SMITH,
AND ATTENDANTS.

_LADY SMITH, and Attendants._

PRIVATE CARRIAGES.

Standard Bearer.

Three Policemen mounted.

Persons who join the PROCESSION are particularly requested
to attend to the Directions of the Persons appointed to marshall it,
and who will wear a distinguishing Badge.

☞ _The Procession must be formed punctually at a
quarter before Eleven._

ELY June 29, 1847. CLEMENTS, PRINTER, ELY]

“I was called away [from Cambridge] by the Dean of Ely to meet my
old friend, Sir Harry Smith. I could not resist the temptation. So
next morning (the 30th) I went to the station, and there I met the
hero and his family party, and joined them in a saloon fitted up by
the directors for their special reception. The entry into Ely was
triumphant.[165] Thousands were assembled, with flags, branches of
laurel, and joyful anxious faces. The Dean had provided me a horse,
so I joined the cavalcade. After going through triumphal arches, and
I know not what, preceded by a regimental band of music—Sir Harry
mounted on the Arabian charger he rode at the battle of Aliwal,
and greeted by lusty shouts from thousands—we all turned in to a
magnificent lunch.[166] We then went on to Whittlesey, a similar
triumphant entry. I should think not less than 10,000 men to greet the
arrival of the hero at his native town. He was much affected, and I
saw tears roll down his weather-beaten, but fine face, as he passed
the house where his father and mother once lived.”[167]

At the station an address was read by Mr. Thomas Bowker, to which Sir
Harry replied that he felt proud to set his foot once more in his
native place, and he was delighted to see the Whittlesey Cavalry[168]
there before him, as he could not forget that in that loyal troop he
commenced his military career.

[Illustration: “ALIWAL,” SIR HARRY SMITH’S CHARGER.

(_From a picture painted by A. Cooper, R.A., in 1847._)

[_Opposite p. 576._]

A ball was given in the evening, at which Sir Harry joined in the set
dances, but refused to dance the polka. Next day he was entertained
at a dinner attended by three hundred persons, including Lords
Fitzwilliam, Aboyne, and Hardwicke, Professor Sedgwick, and other
leading men of the county, and an épergne of the value of £300 was
presented to him by residents of the Isle of Ely. In reply to the
chairman, the Rev. Algernon Peyton, who proposed his health, Sir
Harry said that that day was his mother’s birthday, and he recalled
her parting injunction to him,[169] which he claimed to have obeyed.
He concluded, “Many of my playmates, schoolmates, fellow-townsmen
are around me, and I trust that, with the other honourable gentlemen
present, they will accept the grateful thanks of their townsman and
countryman, Harry Smith.” When Lady Smith’s health had been proposed
by Lord Hardwicke and drunk by the company, Sir Harry returned thanks
for the kindness shown to one he loved so dearly, and who had followed
him with the greatest devotion over many fields of battle and in every
quarter of the world—a devotion not to him alone, but to the cause
in which he was engaged. From Whittlesey[170] Sir Harry proceeded to
Cambridge, where an honorary degree was to be conferred upon him in
connexion with the ceremony of installing Prince Albert as Chancellor.

Professor Sedgwick, it seems, told Prince Albert on Saturday, July 3rd,
that Sir Harry Smith was coming to Cambridge on the following Tuesday.
He writes—

“The Prince said that the Queen would wish him to be there on Monday
to take an honorary degree. So I fired a shot to Whittlesey, not
doubting that I should bring the hero down in time; for the Queen’s
wishes are, as you know, a soldier’s law. I returned to Cambridge
on Saturday. On Sunday ... after evening chapel, I was rejoiced to
find Sir H. Smith waiting at my rooms; he took my bed, and I took
Dick’s.... I spent a delightful quiet evening with my hearty and
gallant friend. We took a turn in the walks, but he was in plain
clothes, and was not known by the multitude.

“Next day (Monday the 5th) began the great hurly-burly. On Monday
John told me that more than one hundred people came to lunch at my
rooms, no doubt partly drawn there in the hope of meeting Harry Smith,
who (after the Duke of Wellington) was the most popular of all the
visitors. I could not be there myself except at very short intervals,
as I was officially in constant attendance on the Prince.... There was
a grand cheer on Monday morning when Sir H. Smith had his degree....
The Vice-Chancellor that day had a dinner—the Queen attended—to a
party of about sixty. I presided in Trinity College Hall over a party
of more than three hundred; and a right merry party it was. Sir Harry
Smith was at my right hand as the Vice-master’s guest, and among the
distinguished foreigners were Le Verrier and Struvé. If we had not
as much dignity as the Vice-Chancellor, we had more numbers and more
fun....

“On Tuesday[171] we had the Installation Ode performed in full chorus,
and of all the cheers I ever heard, the cheers after _God save the
Queen_ in full chorus, accompanied and joined by a thousand voices,
were the most enthusiastic.

“When the Duke of Wellington was leaving the Senate House, a loud peal
of cheers was raised for him; and, immediately after, Harry was caught
sight of. ‘Cheers for Sir Harry Smith’ were called for; and the Duke,
turning back, laid hold of Sir Harry and turned him round, saying,
‘There you have him.’ Indeed, he is more like the Duke’s son, so much
is he attached to him.”[172]

On Thursday “the corporation brought an address to Sir Harry Smith, to
which he read them an answer. Soon afterwards he went away.”

Professor Sedgwick tells the romantic story of Lady Smith’s early life,
and ends, “And now she is a pleasant, comfortable-looking dame with
mild manners and soft, sweet voice.”[173]

But the intoxicating hour of honours and ovations was quickly to give
place to another period of hard service to Queen and country. During
a visit to the Rev. T. Holdich at Maidwell Hall, Northants, Sir Harry
received the news that he had been appointed to succeed Sir Henry
Pottinger as Governor of the Cape of Good Hope and High Commissioner,
and in September he was to leave England again. Another Kafir war was
in progress, and Sir Harry’s nomination gave the greatest satisfaction
to the country. Before his departure his old friends at Glasgow
presented him with a piece of plate of the value of £400 and upwards.
On the 16th September, in reply to an address presented at Portsmouth
on the eve of his departure, Sir Harry said—

“I trust, if it should be my good fortune to render any additional
service to my Queen and country, I may be able to do it through other
instruments than that called war.... If I can avert war, I will. If I
can extend the blessings of civilization and Christianity in a distant
land, where, without any affectation of humility, I can say that some
years ago I sowed its seeds, it will be a gratification to me beyond
expression to do so.”

In the evening of the preceding day the 43rd, 52nd, and 60th Regiments
had entertained Sir Harry at the George (the inn which had so many
associations with his arrivals in and departures from England in early
life).

In replying to the toast of his health, Sir Harry referred to the
dinner given him on his arrival in London by the survivors of the old
Light Division; to his own participation in every action recorded on
the colours of the 52nd before him; and to the special praise given by
the Duke of Wellington to the Light Division:

“When I have set the Light Division to do anything which was difficult
and dangerous, requiring enterprise, the next day I found that
division, with scarcely any loss, ready again to fight.”

Sir Harry drew the moral, “He is the best officer who does the most
with the least loss of life.” On the relation of officers to men, he
continued—

“Believe me, the tone of courage is taken from the officers; whatever
the conduct of officers is, such will be the soldiers. And, gentlemen,
if you knew the feeling of the British soldier in the field, ... then
would your devoted service be for the comforts and happiness of your
men. Do not let it be supposed, gentlemen, because I talk of the
comforts and happiness of the men, that I am one of those officers who
I regret to say exist in the present day, who have a kind of twaddle
in talking about ‘the poor soldier.’ In the country I am going to,
I regret to hear it said ‘the poor soldier’ sleeps here and sleeps
there, ‘the poor soldier’ wants this and wants that. It is the duty
of every officer to provide to his utmost for the comfort of his men,
and when comforts are not to be had, ‘bad luck to the shilling.’ And,
my gallant officers, believe me, our soldiers are equally gallant men,
and where the comforts are not to be had, they don’t call themselves
‘poor soldiers’; they call themselves the glorious soldiers in the
service of Her Majesty.”

In a later speech, replying to the toast of “Lady Smith,” Sir Harry
returned thanks for the honour to his wife—a wife who had participated
in the hardships of almost every one of the gallant actions recorded on
their colours; who had been three times besieged in her native city,
and after being finally rescued, had followed him through the four
quarters of the globe; a wife who had been not only honoured by all his
comrades, but respected by those of her own sex.

On the 24th September Sir Harry embarked on the _Vernon_ amid a great
demonstration, by which he seemed much moved.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

(_Supplementary._)

SOUTH AFRICA IN 1847—SIR HARRY’S RECEPTION AT CAPE TOWN AND
ON THE FRONTIER—END OF THE KAFIR WAR—EXTENSION OF THE
BOUNDARIES OF THE COLONY AND ESTABLISHMENT OF THE PROVINCE
OF “BRITISH KAFFRARIA”—VISIT TO THE COUNTRY BEYOND THE
ORANGE AND TO NATAL—PROCLAMATION OF THE “ORANGE RIVER
SOVEREIGNTY”—TRIUMPHANT RETURN TO CAPE TOWN—DISAFFECTION
AMONG THE BOERS IN THE SOVEREIGNTY—EXPEDITION THITHER AND
BATTLE OF BOOMPLAATS—RETURN TO CAPE TOWN.

Much had happened in South Africa since the period 1835-6 of which Sir
Harry’s autobiography has given us so full an account, and it was his
fortune as Governor to encounter difficulties traceable to the policy
of Lord Glenelg of which he had himself seen the short-sighted fatuity
at the time when it was adopted.

By Sir Benjamin D’Urban’s treaty with the Kafir chiefs of September,
1835, the country between the Fish River and the Keiskamma was to be
occupied by those settlers who had suffered most severely in the
war, while in that between the Keiskamma and the Kei (to be called
the “Province of Queen Adelaide”) a number of loyal Kafirs were to
be established under military protection. All this was upset by Lord
Glenelg’s dispatch of 26th December, 1835. No settlers were to be
permitted beyond the Fish River, and the Kafirs were to be reinstated
in the districts from which they had consented in their treaty with
Sir Benjamin D’Urban to retire; while the compensation which was to
have been paid to sufferers from the war was sharply refused. Well may
Cloete write, “A communication more cruel, unjust, and insulting to the
feelings both of Sir Benjamin D’Urban and of the colonists could hardly
have been penned by a declared enemy of the country and its Governor.”
The immediate consequence was the emigration from the Colony of numbers
of Dutch farmers (described by Sir B. D’Urban as “a brave, patient,
industrious, orderly, and religious people”). In another dispatch of
Lord Glenelg’s dated 1st May, 1837, Sir Benjamin D’Urban, perhaps the
best Governor the Colony ever had, was recalled. He was succeeded by
Sir George Napier. The policy entrusted to the new Governor was that
of entering into alliances with the Kafir chiefs. But experience soon
taught him that this was futile, and the only possible course was
that which had been pursued by his predecessor and Harry Smith. “My
own experience and what I saw with my own eyes,” he declared to a
Parliamentary Committee in 1851, “have confirmed me that I was wrong
and Sir Benjamin D’Urban perfectly right; that if he meant to keep
Kafirland under British rule, the only way of doing so was by having a
line of forts and maintaining troops in them.”

The Boers or emigrant farmers of Dutch descent who in 1835 and
subsequent years, to the number of 10,000, left the Cape Colony as men
shamefully abandoned by the British Government, settled themselves,
some north of the Orange River, some across the Vaal, some in Natal.

To prevent those in Natal from joining any other European power, the
British Government in 1842 took possession of Durban, and in 1843 of
the whole of Natal. In 1845 Natal was annexed to the Cape Colony under
a Lieutenant-Governor, Mr. West. But in consequence of dissatisfaction
in regard to a settlement of lands, a new emigration of Dutch farmers
began, and was in operation when Sir Harry Smith reached South Africa.

Meanwhile in 1845 Sir Peregrine Maitland, then Governor of the
Cape, had established Major Warden and a small British garrison at
Bloemfontein with authority over the emigrant Boers settled across the
Orange between the Modder and Riet rivers, the Boers who were settled
north of the Modder being left undisturbed. These had set up for
themselves in 1837 a simple form of government at Winburg.

[Illustration: GOVERNMENT HOUSE, CAPE TOWN.

_From a lithograph by Day and Haghe, 1832._

[_Opposite p. 584._]

The treaty system failed to protect the settlers in the eastern
part of the Cape Colony from Kafir aggressions, and in 1846 Sandilli,
the successor of Gaika, openly defied the British authorities; and a
war broke out which was hardly ended when Sir Henry Pottinger, after
holding office for less than a year, resigned the government of the
Cape into the hands of Sir Harry Smith.

The _Vernon_ entered Table Bay on 1st December, 1847. The first news
signalled from shore was that five officers had been cut off by the
tribe of Galekas under Boku, on which Sir Harry remarked, “Doing
something they ought not, I’ll be bound!”[174] A few hours later he and
Lady Smith landed. “Amidst the most hearty cheering, mingled with the
roaring of cannon, the Governor passed through the streets, at every
moment recognizing and saluting old acquaintances. Immediately after
his arrival at Government House he took the oaths of office. That night
the town was brilliantly illuminated, and the windows in a solitary
house that was unlit were completely wrecked by the populace.”[175]
That the new Governor and Lady Smith were received by the Colony as
old friends was again shown when, at a public banquet, Judge Menzies
proposed the toast, not of “His Excellency and his Lady,” but of “Harry
Smith and his Wife.”[176]

Sir Harry lost no time in grappling with public business, and started
by sea on the 11th December for the frontier. At Port Elizabeth he saw
the chief Macomo, and, having upbraided him for his treachery, ordered
him to kneel, when he set his foot on the chief’s neck, saying, “This
is to teach you that I am come hither to teach Kafirland that I am
chief and master here, and this is the way I shall treat the enemies
of the Queen of England.” After-events may make us doubt the wisdom
of this public humiliation of the chief. After having an interview at
Sidbury with Sir Henry Pottinger, Sir Harry reached Grahamstown on the
17th. Mrs. Ward, who was there, writes in her diary—

“The shops were closed, every one made holiday, triumphal arches were
erected surmounted by inscriptions proclaiming welcome to the new
Governor and old friend. The very _bonhommie_ with which Sir Harry had
met his old acquaintances—even an old Hottentot sergeant with whom he
shook hands on the road—procured for him a ready popularity ere he
entered Grahamstown.”

And at night—

“The frontier to-night was delirious with joy. Its own hero, its
best friend next to Sir Benjamin the Good, has arrived. The town is
illuminated, and beacon-lights telegraph from the hill-tops.... We
watched the rockets ascending and the lights flashing from one end of
Grahamstown to the other; the very Fingo kraals sent forth shouts,
and torches flitted from hut to hut. But long before the lights were
extinguished, Sir Harry Smith was up and at work. Three o’clock on the
morning of the 18th found him at his desk, which he scarcely left till
five in the evening.”

But even on the day of his arrival in Grahamstown he had made history.
He had released the captive chief Sandilli (an act of generosity
afterwards ill-requited), and sent him the baton of office of a British
magistrate; and, more than this, he had issued a proclamation creating
a new boundary for the Colony, which was now to include the district of
Victoria (to the east of Albany and Somerset), the district of Albert
(north-east of Cradock), and a vast territory stretching from the old
northern boundary of the Colony to the Orange River. The chief town of
Victoria he named “Alice,” doubtless after his beloved sister, Mrs.
Sargant.

On the 19th, by the submission of Pato, it appeared that the Kafir War
was at an end. The Governor at once set out for King William’s Town,
which he reached on the 23rd, and was again received enthusiastically.
The troops—the Rifle Brigade and the 7th Dragoon Guards—were drawn up
on the parade, and were praised in stirring terms for their services
in the recent war. On another part of the square an assembly of two
thousand Kafirs waited, sitting in a great hollow circle. Into this
circle Sir Harry rode with his staff, and read a proclamation, which
was practically a dramatic reversal of that abandonment by Lord Glenelg
of the “Province of Queen Adelaide” which he had felt so bitterly
in 1836. He declared the whole country between the Keiskamma and
the Kei, running northwards to the junction of the Klipplaats and
Zwart Kei rivers, to be under the sovereignty of the Queen, not,
however, as part of Cape Colony, but as a district dependency of the
Crown to be named “British Kaffraria,” and kept in reserve for the
Kafir people, over whom the Governor, as High Commissioner, was to
be “Inkosi Inkulu,” or Great Chief. Colonel Mackinnon was appointed
to a post such as Harry Smith had held in 1835-36—that of Commandant
and Chief Commissioner of British Kaffraria, with his headquarters at
King William’s Town.[177] Having read the proclamation, he gave an
illustration of those dramatic methods of treating the Kafirs on which
he had always relied, but which stirred some ridicule in England during
the time of his Governorship. “He called for a sergeant’s baton, which
he termed the staff of war, and a wand with a brass head, which he
termed the staff of peace. Calling the chiefs forward, he desired them
to touch whichever they pleased, when each of course touched the staff
of peace. After an address of some length upon their prospects if they
behaved themselves, and threats of what would happen if they did not,
he required them to kiss his foot in token of submission.” [He was, of
course, still on horseback.] “This they did also without hesitation.
The ceremony concluded by the High Commissioner shaking hands with all
the chiefs, calling them his children, and presenting them with a herd
of oxen to feast upon.”[178]

On 7th January,[179] 1848, the Chiefs were called to a second meeting
to hear the arrangements which had been made for the government of
the new province. Sir Harry addressed them, after which they took
oath to obey the High Commissioner as the Queens representative, and
to renounce witchcraft, violation of women, murder, robbery, and
the buying of wives, to listen to the missionaries, and on every
anniversary of that day to bring to King William’s Town a fat ox in
acknowledgment of holding their lands from the Queen. “Sir Harry then
addressed them again, telling them what would happen if they were not
faithful. ‘Look at that waggon,’ said he, pointing to one at a distance
which had been prepared for an explosion, ‘and hear me give the word
Fire!’ The train was lit, and the waggon was sent skyward in a thousand
pieces. ‘That is what I will do to you,’ he continued, ‘if you do not
behave yourselves.’ Taking a sheet of paper in his hand, ‘Do you see
this?’ said he. Tearing it and throwing the pieces to the wind, ‘There
go the treaties!’ he exclaimed. ‘Do you hear? No more treaties.’”[180]

Things being thus settled at King William’s Town, Sir Harry proceeded
to the country between the Orange River and the Vaal.[181] Here Major
Warden at Bloemfontein had authority over the emigrant Boers between
the Modder and the Riet rivers; the Boers north of the Modder were left
to themselves, and large tracts bordering on the Orange River were
assigned as reserves to the chiefs Moshesh and Adam Kok, who could also
exact quit-rents from the farmers outside the reserves.

“Sir Harry Smith came to South Africa with a fully matured plan for
the settlement of affairs north of the Orange. He would take no land
from black people that they needed for their maintenance, but there
were no longer to be black states covering vast areas of ground either
unoccupied or in possession of white men. Such ground he would form
into a new colony, and he would exercise a general control over the
chiefs themselves in the interests of peace and civilization. A system
antagonistic to that of the Napier treaties was to be introduced. Those
treaties attempted to subject civilized men to barbarians. He would
place an enlightened and benevolent government over all. But to enable
him to do so, the consent of Adam Kok and Moshesh must be obtained
to new agreements, for he could not take the high-handed course of
setting the treaties aside.”[182]

Accordingly, on 24th January he had an interview with Adam Kok. At
first the chief gave himself great airs, and Sir Harry, losing his
temper, threatened to have him tied up to a beam in the room in which
they were sitting unless he acted reasonably. Eventually an agreement
was signed by which Adam Kok, in return for a small annual income,
ceded his claim to jurisdiction over all the land outside the Griqua
reserve. At Bloemfontein the Governor received addresses from a number
of Boer settlers. “Among them were some who had served under him in
the Kafir war of 1835. At a public meeting speeches were made in which
old times were recalled, and enthusiastic language was used concerning
the future of South Africa, now that a true friend of the country was
at the head of affairs. At this meeting the Governor observed an aged
grey-headed man standing in the crowd. He instantly rose, handed his
chair to the old man, and pressed him to be seated, a kindly act that
was long remembered by the simple farmers, and which formed the subject
of one of the transparencies when Cape Town was illuminated on his
return.”[183]

From Bloemfontein Sir Harry proceeded to Winburg, where on 27th January
he had a conference with Moshesh, in which the latter, like Adam Kok,
accepted his proposals. At Winburg twenty-seven farmers, heads of
families, and twenty-two others presented an address, in which they
requested the Governor to extend British jurisdiction over the country.
He probably took this as representing the general feeling, but he could
not wait for further information. He had heard that a number of the
Boers in Natal were “trekking” out of that colony. He therefore sent
an express to their leader, Pretorius, asking him to pause, and at
daybreak on the 28th January (the second anniversary of Aliwal) he was
hastening towards Natal.

In a graphic dispatch written from Pietermaritzburg on 10th February,
he describes his meeting with the “trekking” farmers.

“On my arrival at the foot of the Drachenberg Mountains, I was almost
paralyzed to witness the whole of the population, with few exceptions,
‘treking’! Rains on this side of the mountains are tropical, and
now prevail—the country is intersected by considerable streams,
frequently impassable—and these families were exposed to a state of
misery which I never before saw equalled, except in Massena’s invasion
of Portugal, when the whole of the population of that part of the
seat of war abandoned their homes and fled. The scene here was truly
heart-rending. I assembled all the men near me through the means of a
Mr. Pretorius, a shrewd, sensible man, who had recently been into the
colony to lay the subject of dissatisfaction of his countrymen before
the Governor [Sir Henry Pottinger], where he was unfortunately refused
an audience, and returned after so long a journey, expressing himself
as the feelings of a proud and injured man would naturally prompt. At
this meeting I was received as if among my own family. I heard the
various causes of complaint. Some I regard as well founded, others as
imaginary; but all expressive of a want of confidence and liberality
as to land on the part of Government. I exerted my influence among
them to induce them to remain for the moment where they were, which
they consented to do. The scene exhibited by about three or four
hundred fathers of large families assembled and shedding tears when
representing their position was more, I admit, than I could observe
unmoved.... To prove, if it be necessary, the faith which I place in
their loyalty, I may mention that on one occasion when the little
waggon in which I travel, and which they call ‘Government House,’ was
nearly upset when crossing one of the tributary streams of the great
Tugela, thirty or forty men on the bank stripped and sprang into the
water, exclaiming, ‘Government House shall not fall—it shall not
fall!’ and their efforts saved my only home from being carried down
the current.”

Sir Harry proceeded to argue that the very existence of the Colony of
Natal depended on its preserving its white population, and stated that
he had therefore issued a proclamation to meet the grievances of the
farmers in regard to land, and had given Mr. Pretorius a place on the
Land Commission. “If the measures which I have adopted conduce to the
restoration of happiness to many thousands, tend to the preservation of
a Christian community by the erection of churches, schools, etc., and
are productive of general good, the glory of war will be eclipsed by
the blessings of [establishing] harmony, peace, and content.”

On 3rd February, from the emigrant camp Sir Harry Smith issued a
proclamation declaring the whole territory between the Orange and Vaal
rivers to be subject to the Queen. The country was to be divided into
magistracies; taxes were to be raised for the support of a small staff
and for erecting schools, churches, etc.; and the farmers were to
serve the Queen when required. So arose the Orange River Sovereignty,
destined to be known under altered conditions in turn as the Orange
Free State and the Orange River Colony.

Meanwhile Pretorius, with the Governor’s consent, had left the camp in
order to ascertain the real feelings of the emigrant farmers beyond
the Drakensberg. He seems to have thought that Sir Harry had promised
him that if the general opinion of the settlers was unfavourable,
the proclamation would not be issued. Sir Harry maintained that his
agreement with Pretorius only referred to the Boers north of the Vaal,
and in consequence of the agreement the territory they occupied was
excluded from the terms of the proclamation.

Mr. Theal states that “in issuing this proclamation Sir Harry Smith was
full of confidence in his personal influence with the emigrants. When
Major Warden, the British resident, expressed an opinion that if the
Queen’s authority was proclaimed north of the Orange River, additional
troops would be requisite, his Excellency replied, ‘My dear fellow,
bear in mind that the Boers are my children, and I will have none
other here for my soldiers; your detachment will march for the colony
immediately.’ And in this confidence a garrison of only 50 or 60 Cape
Mounted Riflemen were left to defend a territory more than 50,000
square miles in extent.”[184]

[Illustration: SOUTH AFRICA, 1847-1854.

(The coloured districts were annexed by Sir Harry Smith, those only
lightly coloured becoming part of Cape Colony.)

[_Opposite p. 594._]

The creation of the Orange River Sovereignty was reluctantly agreed to
by the Home Government,[185] and the measures taken by Sir Harry to
induce settlers in Natal to remain there, and others to come there,
were to a great extent successful. But his belief that the settlers
in the northern part of the new Sovereignty and over the Vaal would
readily accept British supremacy when offered them by one whom they had
known and trusted in the past—this belief proved fallacious. The sense
of wrong created by the Glenelg policy could not be so easily assuaged.

By the 1st March Sir Harry Smith was back at Cape Town, “welcomed as
a successful pacificator and benefactor with pæans of praise from all
classes of the inhabitants. His meteoric progress over the length
and breadth of the country—all at once dispelling the idea of the
unwieldiness of the settlement and its dependencies—and the generous
character of the mission he had so triumphantly concluded were regarded
as the most signally happy events South Africa had ever witnessed.
His Excellency’s praise was on every lip, and his virtues were to be
symbolized to future generations by an equestrian statue.”[186]

But no sooner had he returned than he heard that among the farmers
of the Winburg district (constituting the northern part of the new
Orange River Sovereignty) there was a movement against the British
authority which had been imposed upon them. To counteract it, Sir Harry
issued on 29th March a manifesto of a rather unconventional kind. He
bade the farmers remember all the benefits he had lately conferred on
them [freedom from nominal subjection to native chiefs, etc.], and
contrast the misery from which he had endeavoured to raise them with
the happiness of their friends and cousins living under the Colonial
government. If they compelled him to wield the fatal sword, after all
he had attempted to do for them, the crime be on their own heads. He
concluded with a prayer to the Almighty in which he suggested that the
farmers might unite with himself.

Such a manifesto is not to be judged cynically. The religious passages
were sincere and characteristic of their author, and calculated to
appeal especially to the people to whom they were addressed. But the
distrust of England was too deep for such an appeal to have more than
a partial success. The disaffected party in the Winburg district
determined to make a struggle for independence, and invited Pretorius
to come over the Vaal to lead them. Pretorius arrived at Winburg on the
12th July. At his approach, Mr. Biddulph, the British magistrate, rode
off to Bloemfontein and informed Major Warden, who sent a report to the
Governor on the 13th.

On the 17th Pretorius reached Bloemfontein, and Major Warden, being
unable to offer resistance, capitulated, and was furnished by Pretorius
with waggons to take him, his troops, and the refugees who had sought
his protection, to Colesberg. Pretorius with his force marched to a
camp on the Orange River in the same neighbourhood.

Major Warden’s report of the 13th July reached Sir Harry Smith at Cape
Town on the 22nd.[187] On the same day he issued a reward of £1000 for
the apprehension of Pretorius and made arrangements for collecting a
force to put down the rebellion.

On the 29th July he left Cape Town for the Sovereignty, accompanied
by his Private Secretary, Major Garvock, Dr. Hall, Principal Medical
Officer, Mr. Southey, Secretary to the High Commissioner, and
Lieutenant Holdich, A.D.C, (now General Sir Edward Alan Holdich,
K.C.B.). The party travelled with three waggons.

I extract the following entries from Sir Edward’s diary, which he has
kindly lent me:—

_5th August._—Reached Beaufort. Heard from Cape Town that Major Warden
had left Bloemfontein.

_9th._—Reached Colesberg, having been 11½ days from Cape Town,
travelling 102½ hours at the rate of 6 miles an hour, making the
distance about 615 miles. A hundred Cape Mounted Rifles and one gun
had arrived from Grahamstown, with 30 of the 91st Regiment, and were
encamped at Botha’s Drift. Boers occupying the opposite bank.

_15th._—Detachment of 91st and C.M.R. which arrived yesterday encamped
at Botha’s Drift. High Commissioner rode to Major Warden’s camp at
Botha’s Drift to meet the rebel leaders, [Gert] Kruger and Paul
Bester, who had been invited to a conference, but they did not come.
About 60 Boers on opposite bank. No regular laager or appearance of
defence. Mr. Rex (a settler in the Orange Settlement) crossed the
river, and was civilly received by Pretorius and other leaders.

_16th._—A letter received from the Rebel camp, petitioning His
Excellency to withdraw the troops. Boers would never acknowledge
British Government, but would trek to their friends across the Vaal.
No reply sent to petition.

_17th._—His Excellency and staff left Colesberg and pitched camp at
Botha’s Drift. When on the way report arrived from Major Warden that
the rebel Boers had left the opposite bank the preceding night, no
vestige of them remaining. A Boer came across and confirmed the report
that they had all trekked (about 100 men with Pretorius). They had 62
waggons in the laager. Various reports as to the cause of the sudden
flight. One was that Pretorius had heard of an army marching against
them from Natal _viâ_ the Drakensberg. Detachment of 45th Regiment and
C.M.R. reached Colesberg, and marched following day to Botha’s Drift.

_20th._—The force encamped together on Botha’s Drift except 91st
Regiment [which marched in on the 25th]. Preparations made for
crossing the river.

_26th._—Headquarters and staff crossed. In six days the whole
force (about 1200), with 117 waggons and supplies for thirty days,
followers, etc., had crossed a rapid river 240 yards wide, and that
by means of a caoutchouc pontoon (then just invented and here put to
a practical trial) and one small boat worked by a hawser. The pontoon
had to be taken out of the water every night and refilled in the
morning, and the line to be passed across and made fast to the bank
each morning. Camp pitched on the north-east bank of the river, either
flank resting on the river.

_27th._—Commenced march on Winburg in following order:—Cape Mounted
Rifles, two guns R.A., one Company Rifle Brigade, one gun, remainder
of R.B., 45th and 91st, waggons (117), rearguard, composed of 20
C.M.R., servants, burghers, followers, etc. At 2 pitched camp to
right of Philippolis. Camp formed in line. Cavalry on the right,
infantry on the left, guns and headquarters camp in centre.

_28th._—Camp at Fuller’s Kloof. No tidings of the rebels. 250 Griquas
under Adam Kok joined the camp.

_29th._—Halt for breakfast at Touw Fontein. Rebels reported to have
been in the neighbourhood the evening before. At 10 a.m. inspanned,
fell in, and marched on Boomplaats in the same order as before. Route
lay over an open plain. After an hour’s march saw a herdsman at a
distance. He reported that he had seen fires the evening before along
the Krom Elbe[188] river, beyond a few low hills in the direct route,
also about 20 Boers riding about that morning, but he believed more to
be in the neighbourhood.

[Illustration: PLAN of FIELD of ACTION

BOOM PLAATS

[_Opposite p. 600._]

On approaching this low range of hills, through which the road led,
we observed large herds of game, apparently uncertain which way to
run. At length the herd crossed close in front of the column, as if
avoiding the hill. A report (as above) having been received of Boers
having been seen in the neighbourhood of the hills, Lieut. Warren,
C.M.R., with three or four troopers, was sent to reconnoitre. On
galloping up one of the hills for this purpose, he suddenly found
himself close upon some 40 or 50 Boers, mounted and armed with
“roers,” who immediately retreated round one of the hills, apparently
joining a large body; this was assumed from the dust that arose. The
White Company (or Europeans) of the C.M.R. under Lieut. Salis were
ordered to cover the front of the column in skirmishing order, and
to feel round the hills, but not to fire a shot unless fired upon.
General[189] and staff rode to the front with tried troops. All
waggons were moved up well in rear of the infantry. The column had not
advanced many paces, when some one from the front cried out, “There
they are!” and on looking in the direction intimated, the hills were
observed to be suddenly lined with Boers in their duffle jackets and
white hats, who soon opened a brisk and regular fire, which at first
did not cause much more harm than to throw the leading party rather
into confusion. The order was given for the troops to go “threes
about” and make way for the guns. The Boers fired so low that not much
mischief was done. The guns being brought to bear upon the enemy,
the infantry were deployed into line, and the waggons, under charge
of Mr. Green of the Commissariat, were withdrawn further to the rear
and formed up in circle (laagered), and escort for their defence was
composed of the servants and drivers accompanying them.

The order of attack was Rifle Brigade to skirmish over the hills to
the right; 45th to bear on the centre, and follow up any opening
made by the artillery; 91st Regiment to escort the guns, and the
Cape Mounted Rifles to sweep round to the left, where the Boers were
advancing from their right, in good skirmishing order, into the
plains, with the evident intention of getting round to our rear and in
at the waggons. The 45th suffered a good deal in the centre, and the
Rifle Brigade on the right, being too eager and not taking sufficient
advantage of cover, lost a good many, Captain Murray being mortally
wounded at the head of his company. The 91st were ordered in support
of the 45th and the General’s escort (a party of Rifle Brigade) to
form the escort for the guns.

In about twenty minutes the first range of hills was cleared,
and pushing on with all arms we observed the Boers reformed at a
farm-house below, where they made a good defence from behind walls,
and especially from an old kraal and the bed of the “Krom Elbe” river.
From the kraal Colonel Buller was shot, a bullet taking a piece out of
his thigh and killing his horse. The guns were advanced over a stony
hill, which in ordinary times would have been deemed impracticable,
and by their steady fire, under Lieut. Dyneley, soon drove the rebels
out of their (natural) defence-works and they spread across an open
plain that intervened in great disorder. (No cavalry available to
pursue.) Their road lay across a neck between two hills, where they
again made a stand, as if to cover their retreat, but were checked
by a demonstration of the C.M. Rifles and the Griquas and other
followers, who on observing the retreat had turned up on the right in
a very valiant manner!

The Infantry in the mean time under Major Beckwith (R.B.) had
reformed, and marched in column across the plain as steadily as if
their ranks had never been broken or thinned. A few shots from the
R.A. soon dispersed the group at the neck, who before retreating had
set fire to the grass. On reaching the neck, it was observed that the
rebels had dispersed over the plain as fast as they could with tired
horses. Halted at the neck, to collect stragglers, and make provision
for the wounded and for bringing up the waggons. No water to be had
within three miles. Only about 40 of the Cape Corps could be got
together.[190]

Mr. Rex, with a party of Griquas, sent to bring up the baggage, the
wounded remaining at Boomplaats under the superintendence of Dr. Hall,
P.M.O.

Advanced on Calvert Fontein, having been told by some friendly
Burghers, who had followed rather close on the trek of the Boers,
that they were collecting in great numbers round Calvert Fontein.
Found that they were only collecting and carrying off the wounded, or
something of this kind. There appeared to be no intention of waiting
for any more of our fire. Reached Calvert Fontein at 4.30 p.m. (a
great rush for water). Halted for the night. No trace of a human
being. A picket of cavalry sent forward to reconnoitre and follow up
the rebels till dark. On return reported having seen a large body of
Boers at some distance, in great disorder, apparently “off saddled.”

On roll being called, found the return of casualties to be—

Commander-in-Chief, Sir H. Smith, struck on shin (very slight), and
horse wounded;[191] Colonel Buller, wounded in thigh (severely), and
horse killed; 7 officers wounded (Captain Murray, mortally); Rifle
Brigade, 8 killed and 39 wounded.

On strict inquiry among the men of the force, ascertained that 49
_bodies_ of rebels were seen lying on the field.[192]

Waggons came up at 5.30 p.m. On arrival at the bivouac, a Dutch letter
was received by the Commander-in-Chief, stating that the Boer laager
was about 12 miles off, west of the direct route to Bethany, at the
farm-house of one Jan Cloete.

_30th._—Leaving the camp standing in charge of convalescents and
officers’ servants (Col. Buller in command), we marched at 3 a.m.,
cavalry in advance, guns (with port-fires burning) following. A
company of Rifles headed the column and were directed to sweep any
suspicious places. Met with no impediment. On reaching Cloete’s farm
at 6 a.m. found no trace of any laager. Column arrived at Bethany
at 10 a.m. There is a large missionary chapel and a few native huts
around it. A good house belonging to the missionaries, who had
deserted it. Sir H. Smith and staff took possession of house and yard.
Breakfasted upon biscuits and brandy, aided by a little tea made in
an old pot. A Boer came in from his house half an hour distant and
professed to be “loyal,” and said he had not been in the fight, though
his son had. The son and another young man concealed in the house
were brought into camp by Mr. Southey. They received a lecture and
were sent off with the understanding that they were to bring in their
“roers” next day, which they did.

Two prisoners were brought up from the rear, taken on the field with
arms, one a Dutchman named Dreyer, the other an Englishman, who proved
to be a deserter from the 45th Regt. Both were remanded for trial by
court martial on arrival at Bloemfontein.

_2nd Sept._—Arrived at Bloemfontein at 9 a.m. Troops formed up into
three sides of a square (Commander-in-Chief and staff, etc., in
centre). Proclamation read and sovereignty proclaimed under a salute
of 21 guns. General Court Martial ordered and assembled under Colonel
Buller, R.B., for the trial of the two prisoners taken in the field.

Bloemfontein, a small village, consisting of some half-dozen houses
and some huts, prettily situated on the banks of a stream having
its source in a bubbling fountain, and under a hill. A small fort
(or stockade) had been built, which was commanded from every side.
The rebels had taken possession of the various houses and at the
Resident’s house had even commenced ploughing.

Encamped on the opposite side of the stream to the town, very good
ground and well sheltered by a hill.

_Sept. 3rd._—Troops paraded at 10 a.m. in front of the camp for Divine
Service. Service read by Sir Harry Smith.[193] Preparations afterwards
made for the march on Winburg; a small force to be left to garrison
Bloemfontein under Col. Buller (disabled by his wound).

_Sept. 4th._—Camp struck before daylight and troops paraded, when
the two rebels (who had been found “guilty” by the General Court
Martial of “being in rebellion and bearing arms against Her Majesty’s
subjects” and sentenced to death accordingly) were paraded in front
of the troops assembled, in the very spot where, a short time before,
the rebel leader Pretorius had demanded the submission of the British
resident, and the sentence carried out—the rebels being shot in
presence of the troops.[194]

_6th._—Reached the Vet River at one. On the march joined by a party
of friendly Boers, who greeted us with a salute from their “roers”
and loud shouts, which caused no little excitement in the rear of
the column. These Boers had formed a laager on the Vet River under a
Field Cornet named Wessels, and had maintained their position against
Pretorius and the rebels. [Gert] Kruger, one of the leading rebels,
surrendered himself, and, professing penitence, after taking the oath
of loyalty, was pardoned. Moroco, king of the Barolongs, also came in,
with a small train.

_Sept. 7th._—At 5.30 a.m. crossed the Vet River. Reached Winburg
at 10.30. Here the troops were formed up in hollow square, the
Proclamation read, and the sovereignty proclaimed under a salute of
21 guns. Encamped on the far side of a stream on the slope of a hill.
Village consisted of three or four houses and huts.

_Sept. 8th._—Halt. King Moshesh and Sikonyela arrived in camp. Moshesh
a clear-headed fellow and very sharp. He wore a general’s old blue
coat and gold lace trousers, with a forage cap.

_Sept. 9th._—Troops paraded, and a Review took place for the benefit
of Moshesh, who was much amused with the movements, and particularly
astonished at the Artillery, these being the first regular troops that
had been so far into the interior.

_Sept. 10th, Sunday._—Halt. Divine Service.

_Sept. 11th._—Review of Moshesh’s army. Mounted men armed with old
“roers.” Infantry with native weapons (assagais, etc.). About 700
paraded and performed a war dance. A fine body of men for savages and
undisciplined as they were. Preparations made for leaving Winburg
and returning to the Colony, Mr. Southey, secretary to the High
Commissioner, remaining to collect fines, with an escort of C.M.
Rifles.

_Sept. 12th._—Leaving the troops to follow by ordinary marches, the
Governor and Staff left Winburg in mule-waggons.

_13th._—Reached Bloemfontein at noon.

_15th._—Troops arrived from Winburg. Three guns R.A., two companies
45th, and a company C.M.R. detailed to garrison the “Queen’s Fort”
[now to be built]; the remainder to march back to their respective
localities under Col. Buller.

_18th._—Arrived at Smithfield on the Caledon River. Great gathering
of Dutch and English farmers. Sir H. Smith laid the foundation-stone
of a Dutch church [which was never built, the village being afterwards
removed—E. A. H.].

_26th._—Crossed the Orange River. Arrived at Ruffles Vlet, a beautiful
site for a town.[195]

On the 28th Sir Harry received an ovation at Graaf Reinet, and on 6th
Oct. reached King William’s Town. It had now grown into a pretty town,
and it gratified him to see between 200 and 300 Kafirs hard at work
in building houses and aiding in the cultivation of the gardens. Next
day he held a meeting of chiefs, including Sandilli, Macomo, Umhala,
and Pato. The superior chief, Kreili (the son of Hintza), overtook Sir
Harry after he had left King William’s Town, and showed every sign of
affection, calling him “father” and “Inkosi Inkulu” (“Great Chief”).
The whole meeting was considered of very good omen for the success of
the system established in British Kaffraria.

After visiting Grahamstown, the Governor proceeded to Port Elizabeth.
In reply to an address praying for the formation of the Eastern
Province of the Cape Colony into a separate government, he asked “What
is Germany with her 33,000,000 struggling after but union? These
German states have sunk through their disunion, while Great Britain
is acknowledged to owe her strength and her greatness to the union
of her people. Nor at the present time must we have separation here.
When I was asked whether I would have a Lieutenant-Governor, I replied,
‘Certainly not.’ The office fulfilled no other part than that of giving
rise to very unprofitable correspondence.”[196] On the 21st October
the Governor returned to Cape Town, and, as elsewhere, was received
with enthusiasm and an address of congratulation. It stated that the
vigour and rapidity with which the rebellion had been repressed, and
the moderation shown afterwards, were characteristic of Sir Harry’s
genius as a soldier and of the generous sympathies of his nature, and
concluded with a prayer that he might long preside over the Colony, and
exercise that “justice and mercy” which had marked his career.

CHAPTER XLIX.

(_Supplementary._)

THE QUESTION OF THE ESTABLISHMENT OF A REPRESENTATIVE ASSEMBLY
IN THE CAPE COLONY—THE CONVICT QUESTION—KAFIR WAR—RECALL OF
SIR HARRY SMITH—HIS DEPARTURE FROM THE CAPE.

As early as 1841 the inhabitants of Cape Town had petitioned that their
present system of government by a Governor and a Legislative Council
consisting of officials and persons nominated by the Governor should
give place to a constitution resembling that of the mother-country,
to consist, that is to say, of a Governor and an Executive Council,
both appointed by the Crown, and a Legislative Assembly composed of
representatives freely elected by the people. Lord Stanley, in reply,
expressed a general concurrence with the prayer of the petitioners,
but desired further information. To this request no answer had been
received, when on the appointment of Sir Henry Pottinger to the
government of the Cape, Lord Grey instructed him (2nd Nov. 1846) that
Her Majesty’s Government entertained the strongest prepossessions
in favour of a representative system, and desired the Governor’s
assistance and advice. “Some difficulties,” he added, “may be wisely
encountered, and some apparent risks well incurred, in reliance on the
resources which every civilized society, and especially every society
of British birth and origin, will always discover within themselves for
obviating the dangers incident to measures resting on any broad and
solid principle of truth and justice.”

Sir Henry Pottinger, during his year of office, was too much occupied
with the Kafir War to carry out the instructions given him in regard to
the establishment of representative government, but the instructions
he had received were repeated on the appointment of Sir Harry Smith.
He lost no time in acting on them, and on the 29th July, 1848, the
very day on which he started to put down the rising beyond the Orange,
he transmitted to Lord Grey the opinions of a number of colonial
authorities on the questions at issue, and stated that they all, and
he with them, agreed on the main point that a representative form of
government was desirable. Lord Grey then put the matter in the hands
of a Committee of the Board of Trade and Plantations, who drew up the
main lines of a constitution, which received Her Majesty’s approval. On
31st January, 1850, Lord Grey transmitted this Report to Sir Harry. It
laid down that all subordinate arrangements should be made by Ordinance
in the Colony, and Sir Harry was instructed to collect information and
make all other arrangements for this purpose.

Meanwhile the Colony had been thrown into a state of hysterical
agitation by an unfortunate arrangement made by Lord Grey to send
thither some convicts from Bermuda in H.M.S. _Neptune_. These convicts
were Irish peasants who had been driven into crime during the time of
the famine, and Lord Grey seems to have thought that on this account
less objection would be taken to receiving them. But the name “convict”
was enough. The colonists of the Cape believed that this was only a
beginning and that their country was to be made a convict settlement
and flooded with criminals. An Anti-convict Association was formed, and
the Governor was petitioned to dismiss the _Neptune_ as soon as she
arrived to some other station.

Sir Harry Smith, who from the beginning shared the colonists’ objection
to Lord Grey’s proposal, wrote to that minister on 24th May, 1849,
begging him to revoke his decision, in accordance with the petitions
which he had been forwarding to him since 1st January. On the 29th May
he reported a combination of the people headed by the Anti-convict
Association “to hold in abhorrence any person who may aid the exiles
in landing, and may have any communication with them whatever,” and to
stop the supply of stores to Government. Government officials all over
the country were resigning, but he was still making preparations to
land the exiles and provide for their support on shore.[197] On July
24th he reported that all but one of the unofficial members of the
Legislative Council had resigned, and that on the 17th he had promised
by proclamation that the convicts should not be landed but detained on
shipboard till Her Majesty’s pleasure were known, while declaring he
had no legal power to send them to any other destination.[198]

No reply had been received from Lord Grey to the many appeals which
had been made to him, when on 19th September the _Neptune_ arrived. A
fresh storm of public passion arose, and for the first time since his
accession to office the Governor assembled the Executive Council. They
approved of all his measures, and agreed that it would not be legal
for him to dismiss the vessel. He offered a pledge, however, that he
would resign his office rather than assist in carrying out any measure
for landing the convicts. This declaration allayed the feelings of
more moderate men, but the extremists extended their operations, and
included the navy and the whole body of executive and judicial agents
of the Government under an interdict so long as the _Neptune_ should
remain in Simon’s Bay.

Sir Harry, while curbing the military from any act of retaliation
against the insults heaped on them,[199] was not to be daunted from the
line he had taken up, and with his usual energy devised arrangements
for supplying Government servants with meat and bread. He was thus able
to maintain his position until 13th February, 1850, when, in answer to
a dispatch of 30th September, he received one from Lord Grey dated 5th
December, which authorized him to send the unfortunate convicts to Van
Diemen’s Land.

To return to the question of the new constitution. On the receipt
of Lord Grey’s dispatch of 31st January, 1850, the Governor found
himself at a deadlock owing to the resignation of the five unofficial
members of the Legislative Council in the preceding July. The convict
agitation had spread such a spirit of dissatisfaction in the Colony
that the Governor thought that a Legislative Council filled up by men
who were merely his nominees, would not command public confidence. He
therefore arranged that the Municipalities and District Road Boards
should furnish him with the names of gentlemen whom they would desire
to be appointed, and from these he would fill up the vacancies. He
did not, however, commit himself to nominating the five highest on
the list. As a matter of fact, he chose the four highest, although he
believed their election had been largely procured by electoral devices
emanating from Cape Town, and with them the gentleman who was eleventh,
chosen as having the special confidence of the Eastern Province. No
sooner was the Council thus constituted and assembled than the four
gentlemen above mentioned resigned their seats (20th September), as a
protest against the Governor’s departure from the electoral results
and against the fact that the Legislative Council was called on to
vote the estimates and transact ordinary business instead of merely
preparing the way for a Representative Assembly. These gentlemen were
treated in the Colony as popular heroes, and two of them, Sir A.
Stockenstrom and Mr. Fairbairn, were deputed to proceed to England
to carry on an agitation against the Governor. Their position was,
however, an untenable one, and received no support from Her Majesty’s
Government.[200]

The Governor in his difficulty had taken a step which was not well
received. He had constituted the remaining seven members of the Council
a Commission to draft the ordinances of the proposed constitution, and
on 19th Feb. 1851 suggested to Lord Grey that, there being no chance
of forming a Legislative Council which would have the confidence of
the Colony, the draft ordinances should be ratified in England. This
suggestion was accepted. However, in obedience to Lord Grey’s further
instructions, he set himself in September to fill up the Council,
and found four gentlemen willing to accept the vacant seats. On 10th
October the Council met again. On 16th December the draft ordinances
which had received Her Majesty’s approval in England were read for the
first time, and the second reading was fixed for February, 1852. In
spite of the great eagerness of the Colony to receive representative
government, it was then proposed that the further consideration of the
question should be deferred till the Kafir War was over, and this view
had the support of all the four unofficial members and of two out of
the five official members of the Legislative Council. When, however, it
was represented to the Governor, he promptly replied from his camp at
King William’s Town, in words full of political courage and sagacious
confidence—

“I desire the Legislative Council to proceed to the discussion of
these ordinances as a Government measure, leaving each clause an open
question. I apprehend far greater embarrassments to the Government by
delay than by procedure. I am ordered by Her Majesty’s Government to
proceed, and my own opinion concurs in the expediency of that order. I
see no cause whatever for apprehension as to any public disturbance.
Under any circumstances, however, I do not view a war upon the borders
as affording cause for deferring the grant of a representative
government.”

Thanks, then, to Sir Harry’s firmness the business proceeded, although
it was not till the time of his successor that the long-desired boon of
Representative Government was actually received by the colonists.

Till the end of 1850, in spite of the Anti-convict agitation and the
political unrest caused by the desire for a Representative Assembly,
Sir Harry’s administration had been apparently a highly successful one.
He had felt himself able to send home the 1st Battalion Rifle Brigade
in May, 1850, and so meet the demands for economy pressed on him by
the Home Government. The Orange River Sovereignty had been at peace,
and in British Kaffraria, under the rule of an able officer, Colonel
Mackinnon, the Kafirs seemed, as in 1836, to be making rapid progress
towards becoming orderly and civilized British subjects. But this happy
prospect was now suddenly over-clouded.

However contented the Kafirs at large might be with the new system, the
chiefs suffered a loss of wealth by being no longer able to “eat up”
whomsoever they liked, and with the loss of wealth a loss of dignity.
They felt that their followers were encouraged to appeal for justice
to the British Commissioner and that the feudal power of the chief
was being quietly undermined. Accordingly the Gaika chiefs of British
Kaffraria, Sandilli and his half-brother Macomo, became intriguing
agitators, and found in the terrible drought and distress of 1850 an
opportunity ready to hand for disturbing the peace.

In September of that year, Colonel Mackinnon, instead of his usual
satisfactory reports, wrote that the white colonists were alarmed,
as a new prophet, Umlanjeni, thought to be a creature of Sandilli’s,
was preaching war against the white, while the Kafirs had been on
their side alarmed by a report that the Governor wished to seize all
the chiefs. In consequence of this information, Sir Harry on the 15th
October left Cape Town for the frontier.

Having arrived at King William’s Town on the 20th, he called a meeting
of Kafir chiefs for the 26th. At this meeting great demonstrations of
loyalty were made, and the Governor was greeted with a shout of “Inkosi
Inkulu!” (“Great Chief!”); but Sandilli was absent. On the 29th Sir
Harry threatened him that unless he came and renewed his allegiance, he
would “throw him away” and confiscate his property—and when this threat
produced no effect, formally deposed him and appointed Mr. Brownlee,
the Civil Commissioner, chief of the Gaikas in his place.[201] The
act showed perhaps an over-sanguine estimate of the readiness of the
Kafir mind to recognize British authority as paramount to that of their
feudal chiefs; but at the moment it was approved by Colonel Mackinnon
and other men specially acquainted with the Kafir disposition, as it
was later by the Home Government.

At another meeting held on 5th November, the chiefs of the Gaikas and
other tribes acknowledged one and all that Sandilli by his contumacy
had deserved his fate, and the Governor wrote to Lord Grey, “The crisis
has passed, and, I believe, most happily.” He at once started on his
return journey, and after receiving various congratulatory addresses on
his way, reached Cape Town on the 24th November.

But news of fresh turbulent acts followed him, and (to quote the words
of Mr. Chase[202]) “Sir Harry Smith was to be pitied by all who loved
him—and who that knew him did not?—when he had to write in bitter
disappointment to the Secretary of State on the 5th December, ‘The
quiet I had reported in Kafirland, which I had so much and so just
ground to anticipate, is not realized, and I start this evening.’” He
left with the 73rd Regiment on the _Hermes_ for the frontier, destined
not to quit it again for sixteen months, and then as a man superseded
in his office.

Having landed at the Buffalo mouth on 9th December, he reached King
William’s Town the same night, and next day by proclamation called
on all loyal citizens to enrol themselves as volunteers. The Kafirs
were arming, and the farmers with their flocks and herds had fled
in panic from the frontier. After a meeting with the chiefs (14th),
which was again considered satisfactory, Sir Harry moved his troops to
positions round the Amatola Mountains to prevent any combined movement
between Kreili and the Gaikas. He proceeded himself to Fort Cox.
Here on the 19th he held another meeting, at which, except Anta and
Sandilli (who had now been outlawed), all the chiefs were present with
their councillors and 3000 of their people. When Sir Harry vigorously
denounced Sandilli’s conduct they apparently acquiesced, but asked the
Governor why he had brought the troops?

From Fort Cox Sir Harry sent Colonel Mackinnon on 24th December with a
patrol up the gorge of the Keiskamma in the direction in which Sandilli
was supposed to be hiding, it being thought that when the troops
approached he would either surrender or flee the country. Mackinnon
was, however, attacked in a defile, and twelve of his men were killed.
And so broke out a new Kafir War, a “fitting legacy,” says Chase, “of
the retrocessive policy of 1836,” and, we may add, unfortunately not
the last disastrous war to which those words could be applied.

Next day (Christmas Day) three of the four military villages which had
been established in British Kaffraria not quite three years before,
Woburn, Auckland, and Juanasburg, were treacherously attacked by
Kafirs, many of whom had just shared the Christmas dinner of their
victims, and the settlers murdered. The Gaikas sprang to arms; every
chief but Pato joined in the rising; and of a body of 400 Kafir police
365 rushed to their tribes with their arms and ammunition.

Meanwhile the Commander-in-Chief was shut up in Fort Cox in the Amatola
basin, with hordes of wild Kafirs filling the bush and heights on every
side, and the prospect before him of speedy starvation if he remained,
or death from a bullet or an assagai if he issued forth. Colonel
Somerset from Fort Hare made two unsuccessful attempts at relief. In
the second, on 29th December, after fighting for four hours, he was
forced to retire. After this he wrote to Sir Harry, begging him not to
move with infantry, or they would be cut to pieces, but to sally out
with 250 men of the Cape Mounted Rifles.

“This Sir Harry, in the daring, dashing way so characteristic of him,
gallantly did, wearing the forage cap and uniform of one of the Cape
Rifles, and by this timely incognito he rode twelve hazardous miles
through the desultory fire of the Kafirs on the way to King William’s
Town. At the Debe Nek, about halfway, a strong attempt was made to
intercept the Corps, but Sir Harry Smith and his escort vigorously
spurred through their opponents, and after a smart ride reached the
town, having eluded six bodies of Kafirs, who little suspected how
great a prize was then in their power.”[203]

[Illustration: EASTERN FRONTIER

of the COLONY of the

CAPE of GOOD HOPE

FROM ALGOA BAY TO THE GREAT KEI RIVER

_Opposite p. 620._]

On the day of his arrival in King William’s Town, 31st December, Sir
Harry issued a Government notice of the most vigorous kind. “He hopes
colonists will rise _en masse_ to destroy and exterminate these most
barbarous and treacherous savages, who for the moment are formidable.
Every post in British Kaffraria is necessarily maintained.”[204]

Meanwhile, on the news reaching Cape Town that the Governor was shut up
in Fort Cox, the Colonial Secretary, Mr. Montagu, himself a Waterloo
man, showed the greatest energy in raising troops and despatching them
to the frontier. He sent in all 3000 men, chiefly Hottentots. On the
arrival of the first levies (1600 men), Sir Harry wrote to him, “Your
exertions are incredible, and they will enable me to take the field.”

Accordingly, at the end of January he ordered Mackinnon to throw
supplies into Forts White and Cox. This was accomplished, but he could
do little at the moment beyond maintaining the military posts, and
meanwhile difficulties were accumulating upon him. The Dutch farmers
did not come forward as they had done in 1835, to assist in repelling
an invasion from the colony; Kreili, the Great Chief beyond the Kei,
was wavering; and, worse than all, by the beginning of February Sir
Harry learnt that the Hottentots of the Kat River Settlement, people
nominally Christians, though of late suspected of disaffection, had one
and all revolted and joined the Kafirs, their hereditary enemies.

On the 3rd February, in once more appealing to the inhabitants of the
colony to rally in their own defence, he said, “I regard this almost
general disaffection of the coloured classes within the Colony as of
far greater moment than the outbreak of the Kafirs.”

At this time the British troops at Sir Harry’s disposal amounted only
to 1700,[205] of whom 900 were employed in holding a dozen posts.
Accordingly he had only 800 “available to control 4000 Hottentot
auxiliaries of doubtful loyalty, and to meet the hordes of well-armed
athletic and intrepid barbarians in the field.”[206] Both Colonel (now
Major-General) Somerset and Colonel Mackinnon had obtained successes;
the rebel chief Hermanus had been killed in attacking Fort Beaufort on
7th January; yet the enemy was still powerful and in the occupation of
a mountainous country next to impenetrable.

Sir Harry was compelled to act on two bases, the one from King
William’s Town to the mouth of the Buffalo, so communicating by the
port of East London with the Western Province and with the sea; the
other from Fort Hare _viâ_ Fort Beaufort and Grahamstown to Port
Elizabeth, Fort Hare being connected with King William’s Town by the
garrisons of Fort White and Fort Cox. The troops operating on the
first line in British Kaffraria were under the command of Colonel
Mackinnon, and had their headquarters at King William’s Town under the
eye of the Commander-in-Chief. In April, after the arrival of the new
levies, they amounted to 4700 men, of whom 1000 were occupying a line
of seven posts. The troops on the second line were under the command
of Major-General Somerset, whose headquarters were at Fort Hare. They
amounted to 2900, of whom 900 were garrisoning six posts. The general
plan of the campaign was to confine the war to neutral territory, to
detain the Kafirs in Kaffraria, and eventually to drive them out of
their fastnesses in the Amatola Mountains. The Kafir revolt would in
this way, Sir Harry writes, have been crushed at once, but for the
hopes raised by the defection of the Hottentots. That defection had
indeed gone far. Although Somerset on the 23rd February had crushed
the Kat River rebellion by the capture of the rebels’ stronghold, Fort
Armstrong, only a fortnight later 335 men of the Cape Mounted Rifles,
including the very men who had so gallantly escorted the Governor from
Fort Cox, deserted from King William’s Town in a body. This was another
crushing blow. “My horror cannot be described,” Sir Harry wrote on
the 17th March. “I assure your Lordship that no event of my military
career ever caused me so much pain as the defection of so large a
portion of a corps to which I am as much attached as I am to that
wearing the green jacket of my own regiment.” This detachment of the
Rifles had been drawn principally from the Hottentots of the Kat River
Settlement and had been much excited by rumours of the punishment which
was to be meted out to the Kat River rebels.

Having felt it necessary to disarm nearly all the Riflemen who had not
deserted, Sir Harry now found himself practically without any mounted
force at all, and wrote to ask for 400 young Englishmen to be sent out
as recruits, with the promise of receiving ten acres of land after
ten years’ service. This request, however, was not granted. In order
to anticipate any attempt at rescuing the Kat River prisoners at Fort
Hare, Sir Harry moved out himself on March 19th, and by a masterly
movement defeated the enemy at the Keiskamma, spent the 20th at Fort
Hare, obtained another success on the Tab’ Indoda Range on the 21st,
and returning by Fort White with 1000 captured cattle, reached King
William’s Town on the 25th.

A Cape newspaper, politically opposed to him, wrote of Sir Harry’s
conduct in these few days—

“It is not a little gratifying to find the mingled fire and prudence
of the veteran commander as conspicuous now as in former days. We see
the value of such a leader more distinctly in comparing him with
other officers of good standing and abilities.”

And it quotes from the _Frontier Times_—

“Sir Harry Smith showed his usual energy, riding backwards and
forwards to where the different parties were engaged and cheering them
on. A new spirit has been infused among the troops and levies, and all
speak of the bravery and activity of his Excellency.”[207]

Fresh signs of disaffection in the Cape Corps made it necessary to
disarm still more men, and the Kafirs were so much emboldened that but
for the loyalty of the one chief Pato, who held the country between
King William’s Town and the sea, the Governor’s position would have
been barely defensible. He continued to send out patrols, which were
invariably successful. Mackinnon scoured the Poorts of the Buffalo
in the middle of April and at the end of the month penetrated the
Amatolas; and Captain Tylden, in command of the position of Whittlesea,
which was twelve times assaulted, saved the Colony for the time from
the enemy. But larger operations were out of the question. “Had the
Kat River Rebellion and the defection of the Cape Corps not presented
themselves, Sandilli’s reign would have been a transient one. I have
been obliged to steer a most cautious course, one contrary to my
natural desire in predatory warfare, but imperatively imposed on me
by the dictates of prudence and discretion, my force being composed
generally of a race excitable in the extreme.” So Sir Harry wrote
on the 5th April. Ten days later he again complains of the little
assistance given him by the farmers. “A few spirited farmers have
performed good service, but where are the men who so gallantly fought
with me in 1835—Van Wyks, Greylings, Nels, Rademeyers, Ryneveldts,
etc.? Once more, my advice to the frontier inhabitants is to rush to
the front.”

Early in May Sir Harry received reinforcements from home, consisting of
drafts for the regiments already under his command (11 officers and 296
men) and the 74th Regiment. This he sent to Fort Hare to Major-General
Somerset, ordering him at the same time to be prepared to concentrate
for a move into the great Kafir stronghold, the Amatolas. Two more
regiments were still to come, and Sir Harry believed that the force he
would then have would be ample. In acknowledging the reinforcements,
he wrote on 6th May, “I had most zealously clung to the desire of
civilizing these savages. As regards the Gaikas generally, my attempt
has been an awful failure, while I congratulate myself on having
maintained at peace the T’Slambie tribes, comprising the half nearly of
the population of British Kaffraria. I am deeply indebted to the chief
Pato.”

On the 10th May he was gratified by receiving the following letter from
the Duke of Wellington:—

“London, 8th March, 1851.

“My dear General,

“We heard on the day before yesterday of the renewal of your troubles
at the Cape.

“The 74th Regiment and all the drafts from Depôts that can be sent for
the Regiments at the Cape will be sent off as soon as possible.

“I have told the Government that I think that another Regiment ought
to be sent.

“I enclose the copy of a memorandum which I sent yesterday to Lord
Grey.[208]

“Not knowing the latest or the exact state of the insurrection, I
cannot say in what stations it would be necessary for you to carry on
your operations, or whether with more than one Corps.

“If with only one so much the better, but it will increase the
security, confidence, and tranquillity of the Colony if you should be
able to keep an efficient Corps in reserve in a second line.

“Wishing you every success,
“Believe me, ever yours most sincerely,
“(Signed) Wellington.

“Lieut.-General Sir Harry Smith, Bt., G.C.B.”

It must have been satisfactory to Sir Harry to feel that in
establishing his two lines of defence he had anticipated the advice of
his great master.

While Somerset made a successful patrol against the combined Kafirs
and Hottentots of the sources of the Kat River, and Mackinnon another
in the Amatolas, there were still no signs of the submission of the
enemy. Meanwhile news came of trouble with Moshesh in the Orange River
Sovereignty, and the prospect of a new war there, and this was followed
by a revolt of the Hottentots of the missionary station of Theopolis,
25 miles from Grahamstown. The period of six months for which the
Hottentot levies in the army had been enlisted was now expiring, and
there was no disposition among them to enlist again, and in this way
the force would be reduced to 1800 men. Nothing could be done till
further reinforcements arrived from England. “The almost general
rebellion among the eastern Hottentots,” wrote Sir Harry on the 17th
June, “paralyzes my movements in British Kaffraria and compels me to
hold a force ready for the protection of Grahamstown.” Owing to the
cutting off of the mails, his letters to his wife at Cape Town were now
written almost entirely in Spanish.

The following letter to his sister Mrs. Sargant shows the feeling
excited in him by Sir William Molesworth’s attack on him in the House
of Commons on April 10th, in which he was accused of burdening the
empire by the annexation of 105,000 square miles of new territory and
provoking his local troubles by high-handed and despotic government.

“King William’s Town, 18th June, 1851.
“_Waterloo._

“My dearest Alice,

“I wish I was half the active fellow now I was then, for I have
need of it, seeing I am Her Majesty’s ‘Despotic Bashaw’ from Cape
Point to Delagoa Bay to the east, and to the great newly discovered
lake to the north-west—without a legislature, and in the midst of a
war with cruel and treacherous and ungrateful savages and renegade
and revolted Hottentots. These Hottentots have been treated as the
most favoured people, enjoying all the rights, civil and religious,
of the inhabitants at large of the Colony—fed as a population when
starving,—yet have these ungrateful wretches in great numbers (not
all) revolted and joined their hereditary and oppressive enemy the
Kafir, who drove them from the Kye over the Fish River, and who have
destroyed them as a nation.

“I have had so much to do and some little anxiety of mind, although
I sleep like a dormouse, that I have not written lately to one so
dear to me, but Juana has. The war-making Kafirs are cowed by the
continued exertions among them of my numerous and vigorous patrols,
but they are in that state of doggedness they will neither come
in nor fight. By every communication I have open to me, I offer
peace to _the people_, but the chiefs must await my decision, their
conduct has been so treacherous, cunning, and deceitful. I have
succeeded in maintaining in peace and tranquillity nearly one-half of
the population of British Kaffraria, those fortunately next to the
sea, while the Gaika Kafirs, natives of the mountains adjoining the
Hottentot great location of the Kat Province, are all at war. This
shows my system cannot be oppressive, or I should have had no friendly
Kafirs, whereas the latter escort my waggons with supplies, slaughter
cattle, carry my mails, assist me in every way in their power, which
affords better argument in refutation of the Radical and garbled
untruths, though founded on facts, of Sir W. Molesworth. I will give
you an example [of one] among other accusations of my despotism. The
Kafir Hermanus, who by birth is a negro slave, was ever heretofore
with his people an enemy to the Kafir, because it was his interest to
be friendly to us. After the war of 1835-6, Sir B. D’Urban gave him
a grant of a beautiful tract of country within the Colony upon the
ever-supplying-water, the Blinkwater, stream. His title was disputed
by some of the colonists, and it was complained that _he_ paid no
quit-rent as they all did. It was just, and only just, that if he
was protected by the government, he should contribute, equally with
others, his quota for its maintenance. I therefore, as a part of a
general system, exacted a quit-rent, a mere trifle, which was the best
possible title and deed of occupation, yet does this throating Sir W.
M. bring forward this as an act of despotism. It is really ludicrous.

“But for this inexplicable Hottentot revolution, I would have put
down the Kafirs in six weeks. These Hottentots are the most favoured
race on earth, yet have a set of Radical London Society missionaries
been preaching to them like evil spirits that they were an oppressed
and ill-used race, until, encouraged by violent meetings all over the
Colony upon the convict question, they have met with arms in their
hands, arms given to them by us, for the purpose of joining the Kafirs
to drive the English over the Zwartkop River beyond Uitenhage.

“I have endeavoured to administer this government so as to allow the
all-powerful sun to shine forth its glory upon all its inhabitants,
whether black or white, equally, and I have no other object than the
welfare of the people generally. I have said, ‘Lay before me your
wants; they shall be considered and your wishes met if practicable.’
This was appreciated until the d—— convict question arose. The
emancipated blacks in Cape Town, the Hottentots in the Kat River, held
anti-convict meetings got up by white Radicals, who have thus induced
the coloured classes upon this frontier and in many other parts of the
Colony to believe that separate interests exist for white and black.

“The Kafir has been fostered by the most benevolent acts of kindness
by me as a Governor. My study has been to ameliorate their condition
from brutes to Christians, from savages to civilized men. They
progressed in three years beyond all belief until some white-faced
devils (the sable king often wears a white face) got in among them,
persuaded the chiefs my object was their extermination, and while the
_people_ clung with avidity to my protection from the former tyranny
they groaned under, the chiefs asserted their feudal authority, and
such is man in a wild state of nature, he cleaves to the hereditary
rule of oppressors of his forefathers—with tears in his eyes. I have
seen many weep when they came to say to me farewell; ‘Our country will
be lost.’ Let Sir W. M. and his myrmidons deny this; he cannot, but he
can assert that just measures are foul, despotic, and arbitrary acts.

“Juana is in better spirits now since the reinforcements have arrived,
I hope. Since I have received the dear Duke’s kind letter, Juana
regards me as supported by old friends and present master.[209] The
latter gentleman and I understand each other. I will be _censured_
by no man, but I will endeavour to obey where I can. He affronted me
by finding fault with an ‘abortive attempt to reform the Legislative
Council,’ which made my blood boil, although my remonstrance was
as mild as milk. I think the recent attempt he and his colleagues
have made to form a government has been fully as _abortive_ as mine,
and they have discovered the impossibility of making legislators
of men who will not undertake office. Since the outbreak all his
communications have been most complimentary.

“Your brother
“Harry.

“P.S.—I have been urged by many friends to send home some one to
support the cause of my government. I won’t. It is a weak line of
conduct to appeal to friendship when conduct is in intention free from
imputation of evil. Let Miss Coutts peruse this if she can. You had
better copy it in your legible hand, for the enormous quantity I write
has as much impaired my autograph as hard roads the fore-legs of a
trotting horse, if England still produces one. That she does asses, I
know.”

One of Sir Harry’s nephews, writing home on the 21st, says—

“My uncle’s health, thank God, considering all things, is far from
bad, but he is obliged to be very careful, and cannot stand exposure
to damp or cold. The Hottentots are mostly in the colony in small
bands, plundering the poor defenceless farmers; constant outrages are
committed by these rascals.... Sir Harry confidently expects that two
or three regiments will be speedily sent out, and sincerely do I hope
they may, for to end the war with his present force is impossible.”

On the last four days of June a combined movement to clear the
Amatolas which had long been preparing was at last accomplished, the
1st Division under the command of Somerset co-operating with the 2nd
under Michel (Colonel Mackinnon being ill), assisted by Tylden with
300 men from Whittlesea. The operations were conducted by four columns
converging to a centre. They were completely successful, but Sir Harry
saw no signs that they had hastened the end of the war, and warned
the inhabitants of the colony that the beaten Kafirs were likely to
go about in small marauding parties as “wolves”—an anticipation too
sadly realized by the rush which was now made into the Colony, and the
terrible depredations which accompanied it.

The trial of the Kat River rebels resulted in 47 of them being
sentenced to death—a sentence which Sir Harry commuted to penal
servitude for life; so bringing on himself in some quarters the charge
of excessive leniency. Chase, who considers the commutation a “grave
mistake,” excuses it on the ground that Sir Harry “pitied the poor
creatures, knowing that they had been deluded into the belief that they
are taught by the precept of the Bible to fight for independence with
the sword of Gideon.”[210] It is better to accept the explanation given
by Sir Harry himself in his dispatch of the 7th April, 1852.

“Surrounded as I and Major-General Somerset were by these people drawn
from the eastern and western districts, one false step or untimely
exercise of power and martial law would have plunged the whole into
the chaos of revolution. Her Majesty’s troops must have abandoned
their advanced positions and fallen back on Grahamstown, and the
T’Slambie tribes would have risen as well as every curly-headed black
from Cape Town to Natal.”[211]

During July and August bands of the enemy filled the country between
Fort Beaufort and the Fish River, penetrating later into Lower Albany
itself, and burning and marauding wherever they appeared. It was
natural that the colonists should appeal to the Commander-in-Chief
to assist them. Feeling, however, that if he fell back from King
William’s Town, his retreat would be the signal for tribes on the east,
hitherto passive, to join the Gaikas, he expressed his wish to continue
operations in the Amatolas, and ordered Somerset to establish posts of
burghers, if they would turn out, at every eligible point. Somerset
replied that the burghers could not now withstand the attacks, and he
had established a camp at Haddon on the Koonap; and a month later Sir
Harry sent Colonel Eyre with the 73rd Regiment from King William’s Town
to Bathurst to protect Grahamstown and Lower Albany.

And so the war went on, the Commander ever sending out fresh patrols
to harass the foe in his fastnesses,—on the 8th August he says that
the 73rd regiment has now marched 2838 miles since the outbreak of
hostilities,—maintaining every single post, yet still, for want of an
adequate force, unable to effect any decisive action. Meanwhile there
were fresh defections among the Hottentots in the Cape Corps, and news
came from Warden in the Orange River Sovereignty that many of the Boers
there would not assist him against Moshesh, and their fellow-countrymen
over the Vaal were disposed to back them in their hostility to the
British Government. He was bidden to act only on the defensive till
troops could be sent to him.

In August the 2nd (Queen’s) Regiment arrived from England, and soon
after part of the 12th Regt. from the Mauritius. But there were a mass
of hostile Kafirs and Hottentots in the Colony estimated at more than
6000, one body being in the Fish River Bush 30 miles to the north-east
of Grahamstown, the other under Macomo in the Waterkloof 50 miles to
the north-west, and in a patrol made by Colonel Mackinnon in the Fish
River Bush on the 8th September, Captain Oldham and 25 men were killed
and 41 wounded, and the bush was re-occupied by the Kafirs immediately.
Meanwhile Somerset had failed in expelling Macomo, and Kreili and Fakoo
seemed on the brink of openly throwing in their lot with Sandilli.

Under these circumstances, although now reinforced by the 60th Rifles
and the 12th Lancers, Sir Harry asks on the 15th October for 400
English recruits for the Cape Corps and two additional regiments of
infantry. Meanwhile there were fresh operations of the most arduous
kind in the Waterkloof, and Somerset at the end of October succeeded in
dislodging Macomo from his fastness. In consequence of that success,
Sir Harry was able to write on the 1st November that he was now able
to undertake tasks of a more extensive character, and proposed, after
sweeping the Amatolas and driving the enemy from the Fish River Bush,
if he concentrated there, to march across the Kei with three columns to
invade Kreili, whose country was the great refuge of the beaten Gaikas,
after which it might be necessary to send a force over the Orange River
against Moshesh.

On November 12th, having received a despatch from Lord Grey suggesting
that, failing the support of the Boers in the Orange River Sovereignty,
the territory should be relinquished, Sir Harry forwarded it to his
Assistant-Commissioners, Major Hogg and Mr. Owen, with a strong
expression of his own views of such a proposal.

“If Her Majesty’s sovereignty over this territory were now rescinded,
the step would be regarded by every man of colour in South Africa as
an unprecedented and unlooked-for victory to his race, and be the
signal of revolt or continued resistance to British authority from
Cape Town to the territory of Panda, and thence to the Great Lake. No
measure during my administration of this Government has caused me so
much consideration as that relating to the affairs of the Sovereignty.
Property there, even during the late disturbances, has increased in
value, and although the funds are not now flourishing, I am confident
that locally they will speedily improve to a great extent. I am
equally confident that if any change were made in the present state of
things in the theoretical hope of gaining over a discontented party
by yielding to their demands, such a precedence would evince weakness
on our part, fraught with every evil, and perpetuate the belief that
persevering resistance to Her Majesty’s authority would ultimately
ensure success. It would, at the same time, be not only disastrous to
the parties now dissatisfied, but would sacrifice to the vengeance of
the disaffected those who have remained loyal and faithful.”

In this Sir Harry saw more clearly than most of his contemporaries.
When, contrary to the strong opinion of the Colony,[212] the
Sovereignty was abandoned in 1854, and a Republic hostile to England
was allowed to take its place, only one man, the present Lord Norton,
opposed the change in the House of Commons, and he on very narrow
grounds, and Sir Harry Smith’s successor in the Governorship of the
Cape wrote in blind satisfaction, “The foolish Sovereignty farce is at
length over, and we have done with it.”[213]

In November, in the course of Somerset’s continued operations to clear
the Waterkloof, Lieut.-Col. Fordyce of the 74th and four other officers
fell by an ambuscade, an incident the more unfortunate as the English
public, unable to realize the enormous difficulties of the situation,
was already much excited by the slow progress made in the war. Those
difficulties were enumerated by Sir Harry Smith on 18th Dec. in reply
to a querulous dispatch of Lord Grey. He reminded him that he had had
to carry on a desultory war over an extent of country twice the size
of Great Britain and Ireland, overrun by a most enterprising horde of
savages, and to maintain twelve forts. Had one retrograde step been
made, the _whole_ population of British Kaffraria would have been in a
blaze. What soldiers could do, his had done.

“So long as the insurgents held together and acted in large bodies,
they were defeated on forty-five different occasions between
the 24th Dec. and 21st Oct.... I have maintained throughout my
positions and forts—no convoy has been cut off, and no rencontre,
however sanguinary, has been unattended with success.” Now that the
reinforcements have arrived, they “will rescue the Colony from its
misery ... and relieve the Governor of the Cape from difficulties,
obstacles, opposition, and rebellion, such as it has been the fortune
of few men to encounter.”

The worst was already past. In the middle of January Sir Harry reports
that the operations beyond the Kei have met with signal success,
that 30,000 head of cattle have been captured, 7000 Fingoes rescued
from thraldom, and that a meeting of all the Gaika chiefs and their
councillors has deputed emissaries to sue for peace, and that he has
insisted on an unconditional surrender. At the same time he has seven
columns of troops ready to move, if his terms are not agreed to.

Accordingly, when he received on 5th February a rather sarcastic
dispatch from Lord Grey written on the 15th December, he was in a good
position to reply to it. Lord Grey wrote—

“It is some relief ... to find that you are so highly satisfied with
the conduct of the officers and men under your orders, and that you
regard the operations under Major-General Somerset on the 14th and
16th October as having been attended with important success. I confess
that from that officer’s own report, ... that is not the light in
which I should have regarded these affairs. The very serious amount of
our losses, and the fact that at the conclusion of the operations of
the last day to which your intelligence reaches, it was the rear, and
not the van, of the British force which was engaged with the enemy,
and that the latter must therefore have been the assailants, would
appear to me scarcely to justify the tone of satisfaction with which
you relate these occurrences.”

In reply to this piece of civilian criticism, Sir Harry writes—

“Those, my Lord, who have witnessed military operations, and are best
acquainted with their varying character, success attending them in
one part of the field, while in others partial bodies may be held in
check, will not consider the affair of a rearguard as the criterion
by which to judge of their general result. Neither in ancient nor
in modern war has a rencontre of the kind been so regarded. And the
peculiarity of the present contest must be borne in mind; it must
be remembered that this Kafir warfare is of the most completely
guerrilla and desultory nature, in which neither front, flank, nor
rear is acknowledged, and where the disciplined few have to contend
with the undisciplined but most daring and intrepid many, in the midst
of the holds and fastnesses of the latter.... The country in which
the operations were carried on is far more difficult to ascend and
penetrate than even the Amatolas; hence the gallant and enterprising
exertions of the troops became the more conspicuous, and called
forth that expression of my satisfaction dictated by experience in
war, which enables a Commander to estimate justly the success he has
obtained, and to commend as it deserves the conduct of his officers
and soldiers.

“In my dispatch of the 19th November I have reported the ultimate
success of Major-General Somerset’s operations. Although the loss
of Lieut.-Col. Fordyce and of the other officers who unfortunately
fell by an ambuscade of not more ... than 20 rebels, was deeply to
be regretted, the success which I anticipated and have reported, but
which your Lordship does not regard in the same light, founding your
opinion on the affair of a rearguard, enabled me immediately to so
organize the troops as effectually to watch and guard the frontier
line to prevent inroads, and at the same time to invade the territory
of the paramount chief, Kreili. The uninterrupted successes of the
troops beyond the Kei ... established their superiority far and near.
Meanwhile I was enabled to collect a depôt of provisions for 1000
infantry and 500 horse at Bloemfontein, in case necessity should arise
for a movement in that direction.... Thus, my Lord, viewing matters as
a whole, you will, I think, consider me borne out by general results
in having expressed my satisfaction at the conduct of the officers
and troops, whose exertions and success I foresaw would lead to the
result which has been attained, a general entreaty for peace by the
enemy beyond the Kei, as well as by the rebels of British Kaffraria.”

Peace was in prospect, but it was not yet attained, and after a week’s
suspension of hostilities, seven columns were again operating in the
Amatolas. Little or no resistance was met with. A fresh operation in
the Waterkloof was now determined on. Accompanying the troops himself,
Sir Harry established his headquarters on 5th March at Fort Beaufort,
and on the 9th at Blinkwater Post. On the 11th Eyre, after enormous
difficulties in a precipitous country, captured “Macomo’s Den”—a
success of such magical effect that resistance seemed to vanish after
it.

On the 17th March Sir Harry pronounced that the difficult and till then
well-maintained positions of the enemy, the Waterkloof, Blinkwater, and
Fuller’s Hoek, were completely cleared, and he was at once moving with
Michel’s and Eyre’s columns with fifteen days’ provisions to dislodge
Tyalie and penetrate into the heart of the Amatolas, while Somerset
pursued the retreating enemy, and the Tambookies were assailed from
Whittlesea. “Every part of the rebel enemy’s country will then be
assailed.”

But in the same dispatch in which he announced that the enemy was being
at last driven to bay, he had to acknowledge the receipt of Lord Grey’s
dispatch of 14th January, informing him that for a want of “energy and
judgment” in conducting the war he was recalled, and that General the
Hon. George Cathcart would shortly arrive in South Africa to supersede
him. It is needless to picture the bitter mortification of the veteran
Commander, who, after gallantly facing unexampled difficulties,
saw the sweets of victory snatched from his grasp and the military
qualities which had brought him fame condemned by a civilian of half
his years. Lord Grey’s dispatch—universally condemned in England and in
the Colony[214]—and Harry Smith’s vindication may be read in full in
Appendix V. to this volume, their length precluding them from finding a
place here.

It was a consolation to the recalled General to learn that the Duke
of Wellington, speaking in the House of Lords on 5th February, had
entirely repudiated Lord Grey’s censure.

“I wish to express my sense of the services of General Sir Harry
Smith, now in the command of the troops in the Colony of the Cape of
Good Hope. Sir Harry Smith is an officer who, from the high reputation
which he has already attained in the service, does not require any
commendation from me. But having filled a high command in several
important military operations carried on under his direction, and
having been recalled by Her Majesty’s Government, it is but just to
him to say that I, who am his commanding officer, though at a great
distance, entirely approve of all his operations—of all the orders
he has given to the troops, and of all the arrangements he made for
their success. I approve entirely of the conduct of the troops in all
their operations. I am fully sensible of the difficulties under which
they laboured, and of the gallantry with which they overcame all those
difficulties, and of the great success which attended their exertions.
(Cheers.) My firm belief is that everything has been done by the
commanding General, by the forces, and by his officers, in order to
carry into execution the instructions of Her Majesty’s Government....
I am proud to say that I have observed no serious error in the conduct
of these late operations.... The only fault I find with Sir Harry
Smith is” [that after storming a native fastness he did not destroy it
by opening roads into it for the movement of regular troops with the
utmost rapidity].

The Duke, however, acknowledged that to do what he suggested was not
the work of a moment.[215]

But the bitterness of his recall did not cool the energy with which
Sir Harry maintained the war against the flagging enemy. The Amatolas
were scoured again, and the satisfactory report brought in by
Colonel Michel: “The Gaika tribes generally have migrated from these
strongholds. Two companies may traverse with safety where heretofore
a large column was required. I deem the war in this quarter virtually
concluded.” With such news the Governor returned to King William’s Town
on 26th March. On 7th April he wrote his last dispatch as Governor and
Commander-in-Chief. He was able to say—

“I transfer the civil government without a single particle of
business in arrear, and with a treasury without a debt, while all the
civil officers have worked under me with energy and zeal. The war
impending over the Orange River territory has been averted, while had
its prosecution become imperative, I had collected an ample depôt
of commissariat supplies at Bloemfontein. Amicable relationship
has been established with the Transvaal emigrant Boers.[216] The
turbulent Boers within the Sovereignty, when convicted of overt acts
of disloyalty, have had heavy pecuniary fines inflicted on them, many
of which to the amount of £1075 have already been promptly paid,
which I have caused to be placed in the imperial chest and to its
credit. Property rises considerably in value, and the revenue of the
Sovereignty exceeds its expenditure.

“The flourishing condition of Natal is deeply indebted to the able
and judicious government of Mr. Pine, who, in a letter to me of the
20th March, thus expresses himself: ‘The only service I have really
rendered your Excellency was the sending the contingent into the
Sovereignty; and the greater part of any merit there may be attached
to that service belongs fairly to you. It is an easy thing for a
subordinate officer to do his duty when he feels that he has a chief
above him, who, provided he acts honestly and straightforwardly will
support him whether he succeeds or fails. Such a chief I have had in
your Excellency.’

“I relinquish the command of the troops ... at a period when,
according to the reports I have received, ... the mass of the Gaikas
have been expelled from the Amatolas—when the Kafirs, Cis- as well
as Trans-Keian, have repeatedly sued for peace, and when the war is
virtually terminated.”[217]

On the same day Sir Harry issued the following farewell to his troops,
dated “Headquarters, King William’s Town”:—

“His Excellency Lieut.-General the Hon. George Cathcart having been
appointed by the Queen to relieve me, I this day relinquish the
command.

“Brother officers and soldiers! Nothing is more painful than to bid
farewell to old and faithful friends. I have served my Queen and
country many years; and attached as I have ever been to gallant
soldiers, none were ever more endeared to me than those serving in
the arduous campaign of 1851-2 in South Africa. The unceasing labours,
the night-marches, the burning sun, the torrents of rain have been
encountered with a cheerfulness as conspicuous as the intrepidity
with which you have met the enemy in so many enterprising fights and
skirmishes in his own mountain fastnesses and strongholds, and from
which you have ever driven him victoriously.

“I leave you, my comrades, in the fervent hope of laying before your
Queen, your country, and His Grace the Duke of Wellington these
services as they deserve, which reflect so much honour upon you.

“Farewell, my comrades! your honour and interests will be ever more
dear to me than my own.

“H. G. Smith.”

In a reply (also dated “7th April”) to an address from the inhabitants
of King William’s Town, in which they assured him, “We could have well
wished that Her Majesty’s Government had thought fit to have left the
final settlement of this war in the hands of your Excellency,” Sir
Harry chivalrously put in a plea for those who had inflicted upon him
so bitter a humiliation. “You on the spot must have observed how slow
the progress of the war occasionally appeared. It may therefore be
readily conceived how much Her Majesty’s Government must have been
disappointed, who could alone judge of events by reports, and had not
the various circumstances before them which were apparent to you.”

General Cathcart reached King William’s Town late on the 9th April,
having taken the oaths as Governor at Cape Town on 31st March. Sir
Harry received him on the 10th with the same generosity with which in
1836 he had received Capt. Stockenstrom under similar circumstances,
and, as General Cathcart writes,[218] devoted the whole of the day “to
the purpose of giving me every insight into the affairs of the colony
generally, and more particularly of the eastern frontier.”

Next morning at 3, Sir Harry left King William’s Town with his staff.
In the darkness of night the inhabitants and troops turned out
voluntarily, cheered him enthusiastically, and in considerable numbers
escorted him to Fort Murray. Here, though it was still dark, he was
met by a body of Kafirs under Pato, who greeted him with shouts of
“Inkosi Inkulu!” and, refusing all other escort, he committed himself
to their hands. He was much affected, we are told, at parting with his
officers, and his voice was scarcely audible when he uttered his last
words, “Gentlemen, take care of the soldiers. God bless you!” He then
continued his journey with the friendly Kafirs, who were joined on the
way by other parties of Kafirs, horse and foot. It was a strange and
romantic spectacle.[219]

A few days later, on board the _Styx_ he reached Cape Town. He was
received by an immense concourse, cheering enthusiastically, and
carried to his carriage under a triumphal arch. Though extremely
unwell, he bore himself with his usual energy, and from his carriage
rose and briefly thanked the multitude, adding emphatically, “I have
done my duty to the Cape of Good Hope.” A public dinner was offered
him, but in his situation he felt it right to decline it, upon which
the conveners opened a subscription for a “more lasting tribute of
respect and esteem.” It took the form of a gift of plate.

During his three days’ stay at Cape Town, addresses were presented to
him by the inhabitants, by the tradesmen and mechanics, and by the
inhabitants of Rondebosch, where he had resided both as Colonel Smith
and as Governor. In his reply to the first, he said—

“In the service of this colony I have spent some of the best years of
my life, and, excepting those during which I have been Governor, some
of the happiest. At such a moment as this, nothing can be remembered
by me, and I am equally certain nothing can be remembered by the
citizens of Cape Town and the colonists at large, excepting what would
serve to keep alive old kindness and good feeling, and to bury all
past differences and temporary estrangements in oblivion.”

To the tradesmen and mechanics, he said, “I am myself a working man.
Whatever reputation I may have at any time possessed, I gained simply
and solely by being a working man who put his heart into his work.”

To the inhabitants of Rondebosch, after referring to the difficulties
he had had to contend with and the failure of his efforts for the good
of the Kafirs, he added, “Let us all hope that the distinguished
officer who has succeeded me in the government will be able to settle
permanently the elements which are already subsiding into peace,
and let us all be ready to aid him, heart and hand, in his arduous
undertaking.” Those words were the expression of a noble nature
incapable of jealousy.

On Saturday, 17th April, at 2 o’clock, Sir Harry and Lady Smith
embarked on H.M.S. _Gladiator_. The multitude of people that turned out
to bid them good-bye exceeded anything ever seen in the Colony before;
triumphal arches had been erected, the horses were taken out of the
carriage, and cheer after cheer arose, to which Sir Harry, in spite of
illness, responded with almost juvenile animation, while Lady Smith sat
by his side in tears.[220]

Cape Town honoured itself in honouring the veteran who, whatever his
faults of judgment, had served the Colony single-heartedly to the
utmost of his strength, who by his military genius and promptitude in
action had conferred upon it in the past enormous benefits, and whose
warmth of heart and loyalty of character had endeared him to all who
had known him.

As a Governor he had not been indeed beyond criticism. In his relations
with Hintza in 1835 he had shown an excessive confidence in the
protestations of a savage, and he had seen that confidence abused.
The same fault committed in the closing months of 1850 had preceded
events still more deplorable. In questions of imperial policy his
views were large and far-sighted. In regard to his civil government,
one may say that he had to face a series of situations which might
well have puzzled the most practised statesman. Standing alone with
an unpopular Colonial Secretary and a Legislative Council utterly
discredited, he had the task of smoothing the way for the introduction
of representative government, unaided by the support of the people
at large, who on their part, when a grievance presented itself,
being without any constitutional means of enforcing their views,
were driven to make a sort of civil war on their own executive. Sir
Harry was himself a believer in the advantages of popular government,
but he was also a soldier who felt himself bound to render implicit
obedience to his superior officer. If in this situation he temporarily
lost popularity and encountered obloquy and misrepresentation of the
grossest kind, it can only be set to his credit. As to his management
of the Kafir War, for which he was recalled, one may safely leave his
reputation in the hands of the Duke of Wellington.

The general judgment of the Colony upon him is perhaps expressed by
Chase, who calls him “the eagle-eyed and ubiquitous, a better general
than statesman,” and adds—

“All men sympathized with the Governor on his recall. With some
share of bluster (in the best acceptation of that term), he was in
private life most warm-hearted, generous, and amiable, unforgetful
of services done to him when plain Colonel Smith. Those who had the
honour of being admitted to his confidence, and therefore best knew
him, can bear testimony to his ardent desire to benefit the Colony and
to his personal regard for its inhabitants. It is true, when under
excitement, he employed somewhat strong expletives, which, like sheet
lightning, are terrifying yet harmless; but the writer can add from
personal and intimate knowledge that, notwithstanding this blemish, he
was, perhaps strange to say, a devout and religious man.”[221]

Besides Whittlesea and Aliwal North, two towns in South Africa keep
alive the memory of Sir Harry Smith’s administration—Harrismith, over
the Orange River, founded early in 1849, and Ladysmith, in Natal,
founded in 1851. I may add that Sir Harry’s autobiography now sees the
light, only on account of the reawakening of interest in him and in his
wife during those long weeks of the beginning of 1900 in which the fate
of Ladysmith held the whole British race in suspense.

CHAPTER L.

(_Supplementary._)

AGAIN IN ENGLAND—LAST YEARS, 1852-1860.

Before Sir Harry Smith reached England, Lord John Russell’s Government
had fallen, one main cause of its fall being a general and perhaps
excessive dissatisfaction with Lord Grey’s administration of the
colonies. It was widely felt that Sir Harry had been made the scapegoat
of the Whig Government, and there was every disposition to give him a
warm welcome.

The _Gladiator_ reached Portsmouth on the afternoon of Sunday, 1st
June, and at seven that evening Sir Harry and Lady Smith disembarked
and proceeded to the George. Next day he was visited by a great number
of persons, both official and private, and at four the Corporation
hastily came together to vote him an address. In sharp contrast to
the terms of Lord Grey’s dispatch, it expressed admiration for his
“capacity and fitness for command” shown amid almost unparalleled
difficulties. Sir Harry was brought to the Council Chamber to receive
it. In his reply he tersely described the situation in which he had
been placed. “I became a Governor without a Legislative Council, a
Commander-in-Chief without a British army.” Meanwhile the Mayor had
been requisitioned to call a public meeting of the inhabitants. It
was held to suit Sir Harry’s convenience at a quarter to ten next
morning, “military time.” At this meeting, which was enthusiastically
sympathetic, Sir Harry recalled an incident of his youth.

“Many years ago I embarked on my first campaign from your shores,
unknown to the world, nay, I may say, _unknown to myself_, for no
youth is aware of the latent qualities which may hereafter be brought
forth. At the storming of Monte Video, an event which is not known
to many of you, because it occurred before many of you were born, I
was Adjutant of three Companies, and was fast asleep when they fell
in. A brother officer came and shook me by the shoulder and awoke
me, saying, ‘The troops are falling in; come, wake up.’ I arose and
exclaimed, ‘Lord, in Thee have I trusted; let me never be confounded,’
and with many others came out unscathed from a dreadful storm. These
words have guided me during my life.”

In each of the two speeches Sir Harry showed the most magnanimous
spirit towards the Government which had recalled him.[222]

The feeling displayed at Portsmouth was typical of that which prevailed
throughout the country, and as he acted at Portsmouth so he acted
throughout. He wrote in 1857, “All England upon my arrival again
received me with open arms. I was requested to stand as a member for
Cambridge, for Westminster, for Edinburgh, for Glasgow. I declined
to interfere with politics or to embarrass Her Majesty’s Government,
which I say my position enabled me to do, had not my desire been ever
to serve it faithfully and fearlessly.” Perhaps his determination not
to pose as a man with a grievance was manifested most strikingly when,
after his arrival in London, while declining an invitation of the
United Service Club, he accepted one even from Lord Grey. A writer in
_Colburn’s Magazine_ for November, 1860, is very indignant at this, and
calls it “the most lowering act” of Sir Harry’s life. But Sir Harry was
only maintaining the generous position he had taken up—that Lord Grey,
even if he had acted wrongly, had acted from a sense of duty.[223]

But with whatever mixture of feelings Sir Harry visited Lord Grey,
he received another invitation, we may be sure, with the most
unadulterated pleasure. On the 18th June he was the guest of his
beloved master and faithful defender, the Duke of Wellington, at the
Waterloo Banquet at Apsley House—the last Waterloo Banquet ever held.
Around the Duke’s table, with Prince Albert and the Duke of Cambridge,
sat between thirty and forty generals who had played their part in
the struggle of giants thirty-seven years before. They included Lord
Anglesey, Lord Hardinge, and Sir De Lacy Evans. At this gathering
of glorious soldiers and old comrades, Sir Harry Smith’s health
was proposed by the Great Duke himself and drunk with the greatest
enthusiasm.

Early in August Sir Harry and Lady Smith settled themselves at Belmont
House near Havant, where they were near neighbours of another famous
Peninsular and Indian soldier, Sir Charles Napier. A month later they
crossed to Guernsey to visit their old friends Sir John and Lady
Catherine Bell. Sir John as Lieutenant-Governor held a review of the
Guernsey Militia in his friend’s honour, and induced Sir Harry to
address them. He spoke on a favourite topic—the power of an armed
peasantry to resist an invader.

“In the mountains of the Tyrol, under Hofer, the militia peasantry
of the country repelled the attacks of the well-trained battalions
of Napoleon. In Algeria for nearly thirty years have the peasantry
defended their country, which even now is not conquered, although
450,000 French soldiers have been sent there. In the Caucasian
Mountains the peasantry have resisted for thirty years the efforts
of 800,000 Russian soldiers to subjugate them, and the Russians have
made to this hour no progress. In South Africa I have experienced what
the determined efforts of an armed peasantry can do, for after having
beaten the Kafirs in one place, they immediately appeared in another.
I state this to you to show what a brave and loyal people as you are,
are capable of doing.”[224]

After returning from Guernsey, Sir Harry visited Sir Charles Napier,
and here met, for the first time for many years, his old friend and
comrade of the Light Division, the historian, Sir William Napier. It
was while the three brilliant soldiers were thus together that they
heard, with an emotion easy to imagine, that their great chieftain,
the Duke, had passed away (14th Sept.).[225] At the Duke’s funeral on
the 18th November Sir Harry rode as Standard-bearer, attended by Col.
Garvock.

On 21st January, 1853, Sir Harry was appointed to the command of the
Western District, and to be Lieutenant-Governor of Plymouth. His
feelings on again obtaining employment were no doubt those expressed in
General Beckwith’s letter to him on the occasion: “We should all die
in our boots, with our spurs on, if possible; at any rate, the grand
affair is to keep the game alive to the last.” Accordingly, he and his
wife took up their abode at Government House, Devonport, where they
remained till the autumn of 1854. It was a busy time when troops were
constantly departing for the Crimea, and a great deal of hospitality
was dispensed at Government House.

Mr. W. F. Collier of Woodtown, Horrabridge, sends me the following
reminiscences of Sir Harry at this time:—

“He was an active General, to be seen everywhere. When, inspecting
or reviewing infantry, he usually rode his little Arab, Aliwal, and
always, when the troops were in line, he would suddenly put his horse
into a gallop and ride at the line as if he were going to charge
through them (the men were, of course, well up to this trick and stood
perfectly steady); the little Arab always suddenly halted within about
a foot of the line. I have seen him perform this show for the benefit
of the public often.

“He went to the public balls in his tight Rifle uniform of the time—a
tight ‘invisible-green’ jacket, with tight trousers to match. It
was very trying to the figure, and _his_ then was rather spare and
dilapidated, rather of the Don Quixote order.

“Lady Smith was a dear old lady, very kind, and very popular.”

Sir Harry had distinguished himself from the beginning of his career by
his zeal for the common soldier, and in his last years no old soldier
appealed to him in vain. Through the kindness of Colonel L. G. Fawkes,
R.A., I am enabled to give the following charming letter addressed by
Sir Harry at this time to Sergeant T. Himbury, an old soldier of the
95th:—

“Government House, Devonport, May 20th, 1853.

“Old Comrade Himbury,

“I well recollect you. Upon the receipt of your letter of the 16th
inst., I recommend your memorial to ‘The Lords and other Commissioners
of Chelsea Hospital’ to have your pension increased to two shillings
a day. There are few men now remaining in the British Army who have
seen _so much_ service and been in so many actions as yourself; and
the fact alone, of your having been wounded when one of the Forlorn
Hope at the important storm of San Sebastian, where we, the Light,
Third, and Fourth Divisions sent our gallant volunteers, is enough.
The Lords Commissioners are very kind to such gallant old soldiers
as yourself, and, if they can increase your pension, I am sure they
will. Let this certificate accompany your memorial, and let me hear
that another, though not a forlorn, hope has succeeded. My wife well
remembers your picking her up when her horse fell upon her, and again
thanks you.

“Your old friend and comrade,
“H. G. Smith, Major-General,
“Colonel 2nd Battn. Rifle Brigade.”

Sir Harry’s interest was not confined to the rank and file, and early
in June, finding on the appearance of the _Gazette_ that various
officers whom he had recommended for promotion for their services in
South Africa had had their claims overlooked, he wrote some vigorous
letters to Lord Hardinge, the new Commander-in-Chief, and in some cases
obtained what he desired. In one of these letters (12th June) he adds,
“I had a great sham fight yesterday on Roborough Downs, horsed four
guns myself, and taught the troops a _forward_ fight.”

Early in 1854, we see the shadow of the Crimean War coming over the
land. It was a new experience for Harry Smith to be at home when there
was fighting to be done. But now Charles Beckwith wrote to him
from Turin, “I suppose, old boy, that our share in coming events will
be reading the _Gazette_ at breakfast, shutting the garden-gate, and
turning the siege of Dendermond into a blockade.” That was what it had
now come to.

[Illustration: LADY SMITH.

_From a drawing by Julian C. Brewer, 1854._ [_Opposite p. 658._]

In March, 1854, Sir Harry had permission to appoint as his aide-de-camp
Lieut.-Colonel Holdich of the 80th Foot, who had held the same position
during the Sutlej campaign and in South Africa, and had since greatly
distinguished himself in Burmah. Although Colonel Holdich resigned this
position in 1856 in order to proceed with his regiment to South Africa
(Major Hugh Smith replacing him), he remained closely bound to Sir
Harry and Lady Smith to the end of their lives.

On the 20th June Sir Harry became Lieutenant-General (in South Africa
he had had the local rank of Lieutenant-General, but no more), and on
the 29th September he was transferred from Devonport to Manchester,
being appointed to the command of the Northern and Midland Military
Districts. Soon after he and his wife took up their residence at
Rusholme House, which was their home till 1857, when they removed to
Somerville, Victoria Park.

One of Sir Harry’s first duties, after taking up his command at
Manchester, was to proceed to Hull to supervise the military
arrangements for the reception of the Queen, who was to pay a visit
there on her way from Scotland. After being present at Her Majesty’s
arrival on the evening of 13th October, he dined by command with the
royal party at the Station Hotel. Next morning he was on the _Fairy_
when the Queen made a tour of the docks, but immediately afterwards
left Hull on another mission of great interest. At the request of Lord
Hardinge, now Commander-in-Chief, he proceeded on the 15th October
to Paris to represent the British Army at the funeral of Marshal St.
Arnaud, who had died in the Crimea. He was accompanied by his own
aide-de-camp, Lieut.-Colonel Holdich, Colonel Brook Taylor, A.G. of the
Manchester District, and Lord Arthur Hay, aide-de-camp to Lord Hardinge
(representing the Commander-in-Chief). On the 16th Lord Cowley, the
British Ambassador, entertained the military deputation at breakfast,
and then conveyed them to the Invalides, the place of interment. Sir
Harry was subsequently admitted to an audience of the Emperor at St.
Cloud, of which he has left the following note:—

“After a very long conversation, the Emperor said, ‘You will see the
Queen, and I pray you to assure Her Majesty how sensible I, the French
Army and Nation are of the mark of respect paid to us by sending to
attend the melancholy funeral of Marshal St. Arnaud, an officer of
your rank and reputation with a Deputation of British Officers. The
amicable relationship which existed between the Marshal and Lord
Raglan renders his loss still more to be deplored.’”

Sir Harry was back in London on the 21st.

Christmas, 1854, brought Sir Harry a double sorrow. His “third
Waterloo brother,” Charles, died at Whittlesey on Christmas Eve, and
four days earlier his old friend Sir James Kempt passed away at the
age of ninety. On 17th January, 1855, Sir Andrew Barnard followed. On
Sir Andrew’s death, Sir Harry, who had been since 1847 Colonel of the
2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade, was appointed to the command of the 1st
Battalion. In one of his strangely beautiful letters written on 27th
January, Charles Beckwith grieves over the sufferings of the men in the
Crimea, gives his friend some of his thoughts on the great mystery of
death, and then refers in particular to the recent deaths of their old
friends.

“What a good old fellow Sir James was! I did not feel Sir Andrew’s
loss so much, as they told me that his intellect had failed. I had a
good letter the other day from Lord Seaton. All these men I regard as
the patriarchs of all that is solid in England. These men and their
fellows, the men of Alma, Balaklava, Inkerman, of the _Birkenhead_,
and the Arctic Regions, I hold to be the foundation-stones of England.
In them is incarnate the sense of duty and obedience as a fixed habit,
not a sentiment or conviction, as the people say, but a true witness
of the Omnipotent who wills it thus.... Adieu. Love to Juana. We
must expect to be rather ricketty at the best, but we may toddle on.
It is highly desirable that we may all go together as nearly as may
be. Bring Bright to a garrison Court Martial, take care of your old
bones, remember me kindly to any old fellow that may write to you, and
believe me,

“Your affectionate friend,
“Charles Beckwith.”

It might atone for many faults in Harry Smith that he loved and was
loved by Charles Beckwith.

The following letter to H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge and the Duke’s
reply are self-explanatory:—

“Manchester, March 9, 1855.

“Dear Sir,

“I cannot avoid expressing to Your Royal Highness my _delight_ on
reading the opinion so nobly given by you, when in the Chair, as
to the Patriotic Fund, of the _value_, _worth_, and _zeal_ of our
Regimental Officers. In a service of fifty years I have ever found
them the same, and ever looked up to and beloved by their soldiers.
Your Royal Highness’s expressions in the Chair are calculated to do
vast good in these twaddling and criminating times, and to uphold that
class of men, alone qualified to command British soldiers, who feel
themselves that gentlemen best command them.

“H. G. Smith,
“Lieut.-General.

“To H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge, etc.”

“St. James’s Palace, March 10th, 1855.

“My dear Sir Harry,

“Many thanks for your most kind letter just received. I really am
delighted to find that all my friends _approve_ of my speech the other
day. I felt it was a duty I owed to the Officers of the Army to state
what I did in their favour, they having been most unjustly assailed
from all quarters, and not a soul to take their part, which I felt
was too bad. Never are there a set of men who have worked harder, and
their trials have been great. You know my devotion for the service. I
could not allow such imputations to go by unanswered. The Departments
have been very bad, though I admit their great difficulties, but the
Army, as far as troops are concerned, cannot be improved.

“I remain, my dear Sir Harry,
“Yours most sincerely,
“George.”

In May Sir Harry received with great pleasure from Prince Adalbert
of Prussia the beautifully illustrated volume on the First Sikh War
written by the lately deceased Prince Waldemar, who had fought in those
battles as a volunteer, and had gained the esteem and affection of his
comrades.

On the 25th July Sir Harry wrote to Major George Simmons—

“I have not been myself since the 18th June last. I went to Preston
to inspect some militia and a Depôt Battalion of the line, and I was
wet for six hours. George, on _one_ 18th June, I did not much mind a
wetting. Age is a bore. Ah, poor dear Lord Raglan! He died, I fear,
_of a broken heart_. I desire you write ‘Dear Harry S——,’ and not
‘Dear General,’ you old humbug. Juana sends you and yours her love, as
does your old comrade,

“Harry Smith.”

As General in command of the Midland District, Sir Harry was present
at Birmingham on 22nd November, when Prince Albert laid the foundation
stone of the “Midland Institute.” On rising to reply for the “Army and
Navy,” he called forth vociferous cheering by the words, “I pray my
country not precipitately to make peace. Let peace be based upon the
surest foundations.”

A letter of Lady Smith’s dated “31st March, 1857,” reminds us of the
regulation ordering all officers to leave the upper lip unshaven, of
which the effect is seen in portraits of Sir Harry after this date.
“Your uncle is, thank God, quite well. His moustaches are growing very
nicely, and I do think they become his dear old face.” A week later he
wrote to his nephew, Mr. George Moore Smith, of Whittlesey, his native
place, to express his delight at “the pluck” he had shown during some
riots, when the rioters had cheered him for going in among them.

On 5th May the Manchester “Art Treasures” Exhibition was opened by
Prince Albert, who wrote the same night to the Queen: “After luncheon
[at Abney Hall] we donned our uniform, and drove with an escort, etc.,
etc., to Manchester, some six miles, and through the town—Sir Harry
Smith upon his Arab ‘charging the multitude.’”[226] On 29th June
the Queen and various members of the Royal Family, including Prince
Frederick William of Prussia, newly betrothed to the Princess Royal,
visited the Exhibition. It was Sir Harry Smith’s duty to make all
the military arrangements, and he rode on the right of Her Majesty’s
carriage in the procession. When the Queen was about to knight the
Mayor, she turned to Sir Harry for his sword, telling the Mayor at the
same time that it had been “in four general actions.” On receiving it
back he respectfully bowed, and, stooping over it, pressed the hilt
to his lips. Her Majesty afterwards expressed a wish for the sword,
saying, “Do you value it very much, Sir Harry?” and, needless to say,
it was at once presented to her. Sir Harry had worn it from 1835.[227]

Sir Harry and Lady Smith having invited General and Mrs. Beckwith
to come over from Paris and stay with them during the time of the
Exhibition, the General replied, “You must understand that if I should
come to England, I shall certainly present my wife to Juana. As to the
Exhibition, it will be a thing to be seen and _felt_, but your house
will be little better than a hotel for a part of the time, and I think
much more of your blessed faces than of all other possible sights.
I had rather see John Bell’s ‘old divine countenance’ than that of
Raphael himself.”

That summer of 1857—the summer of the Indian Mutiny—filled the letters
of Harry Smith and Charles Beckwith with gloomy forebodings. It is
interesting to see the reminiscence of the old Light Division contained
in the last words of Beckwith’s letter of the 18th September: “Do you
think ‘Young Varmint’[228] can get to Lucknow? I have some doubts. God
protect him and bless him.”

General Beckwith did not achieve the visit to Manchester in 1857,
but wrote on 15th January, 1858, that he would like to come in the
following July. He says—

“I am glad to hear from you, because you really know something of what
is going on in the world, and, above all, something of the men who
take an active part in directing its affairs. I have nothing but my
own theories and the newspapers to direct me, two fallacious guides.
It is impossible not to shed a tear on H. Havelock’s grave. I wish he
could have once more embraced his wife and daughters. There is another
thing, Harry, that hangs on my mind, and that is Punjaub Lawrence.
As far as I can see, nothing was foreseen and nothing was prevented
from Calcutta. Everything—wisdom, counsel, action, foresight—came from
Lahore. ‘There was a little city and few men within it, and there came
a great king against it, and besieged it, and built great bulwarks
against it. Now, there was found in it a poor wise man, and he by
his wisdom delivered the city; yet no man remembered that same poor
man.’... My wife, the most simple-minded creature living, sends her
duty to Juana, and I send my love. Is John Bell on the staff of your
district? My kind regards to him. I think with reverence and affection
of his ‘old divine face.’”

In May Sir Harry Smith, Lord Burghersh and the Garter King at Arms were
commissioned to go to Lisbon in attendance on the Marquis of Bath,
who was to invest Don Pedro V., on the occasion of his marriage,
with the Order of the Garter. The young queen, Princess Stephanie of
Hohenzollern, visited the English Court on her way to Portugal, and Sir
Harry and Lady Smith were bidden to a dinner-party at Buckingham Palace
on 7th May, and to a State Ball on the 10th, given in connexion with
her visit.

Lord Bath and his suite reached Lisbon on the 17th, a day before the
Queen. They were present at various festivities held in honour of the
royal wedding, and after the investiture at Belem Palace on the 27th
were the guests of the King at a State Dinner. Sir Harry received from
the King at this time the Order of St. Bento d’Aviz. It must have been
very interesting to the Peninsular veteran thus to revisit under such
different circumstances the place where he and George Simmons had
bathed together forty-eight years before when convalescent from their
wounds received at the Coa.[229]

Alas! the first letter he received from Charles Beckwith after his
return told him, in sentences worthy of Thackeray, that Simmons, with
his simple hero-worship of them both, had passed away.

“Todas son muertas! and amongst the rest old George Simmons, who went
out of the world in a few moments with a smile on his countenance. The
first thing George would ask was, ‘Where’s the r_i_giment? My word,
the General and Sir Harry will soon be here.’”

He adds—

“I shall be ready to move on Manchester on the 14th July with my young
wife. I hope to find you during an interregnum of giving dinners and
dining out, as I want to comfort my head and heart during my stay
in England, and have no reverence for cotton lords. Your blessed
faces and those of the old stock that I may be lucky enough to meet,
will mend up and comfort my soul which has passed through a dreary
desert for the last thirty years. I had much rather see old Sousa e
Silva[230] than Milner Gibson. In fact, it is not safe for me to get
into a colloquy with this sort of chap, as I should certainly rap out
something disagreeable.... Love to Juana. Corramba, how I shall enjoy
myself at Manchester!”

In July the anticipated visit duly took place.

On the 9th October, at Newcastle, Sir Harry inspected for the last
time his own Regiment, the 1st Battalion Rifle Brigade. When he had
inspected them and put them through some rapid manœuvres, he formed
the men into square, and addressed them in words full of his lifelong
affection for the corps. That was the only Regiment or Battalion, he
said, in which he had taken his place in the ranks, and their services,
their “everything, in fact,” would never be forgotten. He then desired
the men to let him get out of the square, observing that he well knew
he never could get into it if they wished to prevent him.[231]

Early in 1859 Sir Harry had a bad fall and cut his knee. He went to
London unwisely, inflammation came on, and he nearly lost his leg.
Beckwith writes to him—

“My dear old Fellow,

“What a spoony of a Manchester doctor to let you set off! Why
didn’t you turn back? However, when you’ve got your nose in a given
direction, you _never_ turn back.... You see how a man may be
‘severely wounded’ being at ease and in his own house, after riding
through showers of lead and iron unscathed. I am certain that you will
have greatly profited by this occasional martyrdom, and that you are
now much fitter to ‘fall in’ in the ranks of the celestial army.”

For eight weeks the patient was confined to his room, and almost
constantly to his bed. He reports his return to Manchester on 12th
April and adds—

“In a few days I hope to mount Alice’s[232] pony. I have suffered
very much occasionally, but my pluck never forsook me. My greatest
distress was to see my dear old faithful wife suffer so—her anxiety
was intense.”

Sir Harry’s five-years’ command of the Northern District was to
expire on the 30th September. He hated the idea of being out of
harness, and wrote in May to the Duke of Cambridge, begging that he
might be reappointed, but the Duke replied that, though his feelings
were strongly in favour of continuing Sir Harry in the command he so
worthily filled, he could not, in justice to other officers, make an
exception in his case. Accordingly Sir Harry saw his time at Manchester
drawing to an end.

There, as in all his previous employments, he had gained the love
and esteem of all who came in contact with him, by his high spirit,
his generosity, and his kindness of heart, while they smiled at his
soldierly inflexibility in little things. A lady who visited him at
this time tells me how severe he would be on bad riders, or men who
used a spoon to their pudding or left a wine-glass unfinished; how
proud he was of his little beautifully-formed foot, and how when in
bad health he would scrupulously dress for dinner, perhaps to imitate
the Duke of Wellington, whom he made his pattern in all things; how he
would ride a very strong and spirited horse, although it exhausted him;
how he would take men into his employment from pure charity, because
they needed assistance; how in society he would devote himself still to
the prettiest woman present; how rigidly punctual he was in his house;
how charming with children and young people; how he would go through
whatever he felt to be his duty at any cost.

Sir Harry’s departure from Manchester was therefore a time of severance
from many friends. The Council of the City, in a formal resolution,
requested the Mayor to assure him of their regret at his removal, and
their thanks for the great courtesy and kindness with which he had
discharged his duties. In his reply to the Mayor, Sir Harry wrote—

“After the approbation of his Sovereign, the greatest compliment which
can be conferred on the soldier is to live in the affections of his
countrymen. Thus to learn that the Council of the wealthy and populous
City of Manchester appreciates any services it has been my duty to
perform is, I assure you, most gratifying to my feelings. During the
five happy years I have commanded the Northern District and resided
in Manchester, I have received the greatest kindness and hospitality
both in the City and in the neighbourhood, and joyfully do I record
that during that period no single instance of any collision between
the citizens and the soldiers throughout these extensive districts was
ever brought before me.... The kindly feelings evinced by you, Sir, in
your letter of transmission, are most forcibly impressed upon my mind,
the more so as you include Lady Smith, the faithful partner of my
joys, sorrows, and military career for so many years in every quarter
of the globe.”

Lord De Tabley wrote—

“I do assure you that, amongst the many neighbours who have had
an opportunity of forming your acquaintance and cultivating your
friendship during the period of your command here, there is no one
who regrets the termination of the command more sincerely than I and
my family. Most exceedingly also will the Regiment, which you have so
kindly, more than once, inspected, miss the cheering and encouraging
glance and word of the General they were always so glad and proud to
see. As you say, time passes, but I trust that friendship and kindly
feeling will remain.”

Similarly, Lord Derby, “the Rupert of debate,” wrote from Knowsley—

“Your retirement will, I am sure, be a subject of very general regret.
I hope that Lady Derby and I may have the pleasure of again seeing you
and Lady Smith at this place. I beg of you to place me at the feet of
the Doña Juana, and to believe me, my dear Sir Harry,

“Yours sincerely,
“Derby.”

To Major C. W. Meadows Payne, his second aide-de-camp, whom he had
first met in South Africa in the thirties, Sir Harry wrote a warmly
affectionate letter of farewell.

“Manchester, 30th Sept. 1859.

“My dear old and valued Friend Payne,

“This day closes for the present our Military Career—but no change in
our circumstances can effect any change in that Fraternal Love which
has endeared us to each other for so many years. During the last five
years, while my A.D.C., you have been of the greatest possible service
to me in both your official and private capacity, my interests have
been yours, and the frank confidence I have ever reposed in you has
been observed with every regard for my honour.

“It may happen, even at my advanced age, I may be again employed—if
so, I hope you would again join your General who so valued your
services.

“Meanwhile, Payne, may every blessing attend you and yours, and may
every Veteran General have such a Friend as yourself to confide in.

“Your old friend,
“H. G. Smith.

“Major Payne, A.D.C.”

There was one other loved friend from whom Sir Harry had now to part.
His little Arab “Aliwal” had been ridden by him at Maharajpore and at
all the battles of the Sutlej Campaign; it had come home with him to
England in 1847, accompanied him to the Cape, returned with him in
1852, and had since served him faithfully in his commands at Devonport
and Manchester. A lady, the daughter of Sir Harry’s aide-de-camp, Major
Payne, writes—

“My sister and I have a vivid recollection of the lovely horse, and
how, when we used to meet Sir Harry when we were out walking and he
was riding, he would call out, ‘Stand still, children,’ and then
come galloping up at full speed, and Aliwal would stop at our very
feet;[233] and my mother used to tell us that on the anniversary of
the Battle of Aliwal, when there was always a full-dress dinner at
the General’s house, some one would propose Aliwal’s health, and
Sir Harry would order him to be sent for. The groom would lead the
beautiful creature all round the dinner-table, glittering with plate,
lights, uniforms, and brilliant dresses, and he would be quite quiet,
only giving a snort now and then, though, when his health had been
drunk and the groom had led him out, you could hear him on the gravel
outside, prancing and capering. The horse was now old, and Sir Harry,
in his new house in London, would not be able to keep him; and though
Sir Robert Gerard (now Lord Gerard) kindly offered him a home, Sir
Harry feared that his old age would perhaps be an unhappy one, and he
resolved to shoot him. My father and the faithful groom were with Sir
Harry when he did so, and I believe they all shed tears.”

That night Sir Harry’s place was vacant at dinner, and he was seen no
more till the following morning. The following epitaph on his horse in
Sir Harry’s handwriting is still preserved:—

“Near this Stone is buried Sir Harry Smith’s celebrated
Arab charger of the Purest Blood,

‘Aliwal.’

Sir Harry rode him in the battles of Maharajpore, Moodkee,
Ferozeshahur, Aliwal, and Sobraon. He was the only horse of the
General Staff that was not killed or wounded. He came from Arabia to
Calcutta, thence to Lahore; he has marched nearly all over India;
came by ship to England, thence to the Cape of Good Hope and back
to England. He was twenty-two years old; never was sick during the
eighteen years in Sir Harry’s possession. As a charger, he was
incomparable, gallant, and docile; as a friend, he was affectionate
and faithful.”

On leaving Manchester Sir Harry and Lady Smith visited Sir John Bell at
55, Cadogan Place, London, and took a house for themselves a few doors
off (No. 15), which they entered at the end of November.

The letters of General Charles Beckwith show him to have been vexing
himself for years with the question, “How is England to defend herself
against invasion?” Although Harry Smith’s letters to him are not in
my hands, I do not doubt that he had also deeply pondered the same
momentous problem. Neither of the friends forgot the famous letter
which Wellington, in their eyes the wisest of all Englishmen, had
addressed in 1847 to Sir John Burgoyne, and in which, after saying that
he had studied our Southern Coast piece by piece and did not doubt that
a foreign army could be landed at many points, he added—

“I know no mode of resistance excepting by an army in the field
capable of meeting and contending with its formidable enemy, aided by
all the means of fortification which experience in war can suggest.

“I shall be deemed foolhardy in engaging for the defence of the empire
with an army composed of ... a force of militia. I may be so, I
confess it. I should infinitely prefer an army of regular troops. But
I _know_ that I shall not have these. I may have others.

“I am bordering upon seventy-seven years of age passed in honour. I
hope that the Almighty may protect me from being the witness of the
tragedy which I cannot persuade my contemporaries to take measures to
avert.”[234]

These solemn words of warning were present to the minds of Beckwith and
Harry Smith when, in 1859, they saw the public mind seriously alarmed
by the fear of invasion, and an army of citizen soldiers springing up
in its defence. They would have been untrue to their master if they had
not gladly hailed the Volunteer Movement, and seized the opportunity
of aiding their country to put its defences in order. Harry Smith,
as we have seen, had told the Guernseymen of the immense value of a
citizen army. On 17th May, 1859, he wrote at Manchester the following
memorandum:—

“1. I am one who thinks that the most formidable enemies are the armed
population of a country—take Switzerland, America, Spain, etc., and I
have never seen more formidable opposition than by armed savages even.

“2. I would therefore _gradually_ enroll every man in England who has
a vote, and teach them to _shoot_. That is all we require at present;
plenty of time to talk of a little drill and embodiment. And as we may
become threatened by war, I would enroll all gamekeepers and their
helpers as Light Infantry, or rather _Riflemen_. I would enroll all
the navvies, give them arms, but call them ‘Pioneers.’ I would enroll
all the Railroad men, not to take them from the rail, but teach them
to _shoot_.

“3. I would never talk of war, but thus show such a set of Bulldog
teeth as no sensible enemy would like the grip of. All this in aid of
the Regular Army, the Militia, etc.

“4. I would erect such works at Plymouth as I have long ago pointed
out: no _great_ fortifications; _outworks_ of strength, on points
which would render it unassailable. So at all our ports, etc.

“5. Why, when _the_ Napoleon threatened us with invasion, Mr. Pitt
had 800,000 men with arms in their hands; 200,000 more enrolled.
Every waggon, boat, etc., was numbered, and alarm-posts established
everywhere throughout England. By heavens, if any enemy, or _enemies_,
thought of invading us, England would ‘chevaux-de-frises’ like a
porcupine’s back, with lots of men everywhere. These are our resources
if our Navy let them land. And we should have _swarms_ of little
steamers with Armstrong’s guns on our coasts.

“6. I should like some ‘Places d’armes’ on the Reigate Hills
range—small, but capable to resist all but a siege. These points being
occupied add to the defensive, and are capital Points of Rendezvous.

“7. If the war[235] is protracted and our neutrality shaken, we must
go back to the old constitutional plan of Ballot for the Militia.

“8. All I have here written about would be easy, feasible, and
requisite if a large French Camp was forming in Boulogne, Cherbourg &
Co., but, as yet, John Bull’s steam is hardly up. Government measures
of defence upon the basis of _strict neutrality_ would be acceptable
to the People, and, by Government being energetic, the People would
think there is more necessity than they see, and would rally round
it in defence of Queen, Country, ‘pro aris et focis.’ And if they
did not get their steam up, give them a touch of ‘The blessings of
Tortona’[236] and various other interesting anecdotes of war and
contributions, etc., etc.

“H. G. S.”

Sir Harry’s interest in the question was still shown after his removal
to London. The _Times_ of 19th December having discussed in a leader
whether the country would be wise in following Lord Palmerston’s advice
and spending £10,000,000 on fortifications, or in trusting its defence
merely to its fleet, army, and volunteers, Sir Harry again put his
views on paper in a letter to the editor (which, however, seems not to
have been published). I give a few extracts:—

“3. What you state as to Fortifications is truly correct. They must
ever be regarded as auxiliaries, and no mode of defence would be more
objectionable than ‘large fortifications,’ absorbing, as you observe,
the men required in the field.

“4. ‘Should we not take our stand upon the ocean and the coast
rather than assume that an enemy will make good his advance into the
country?’ On this allow me to observe that, in war, one of its first
principles is to ensure a ‘reserve.’ This, if we were defeated at
sea (which I by no means anticipate), your _small_ fortifications
around your arsenals, docks, etc., and upon a few points on the most
vulnerable side of the capital, would secure.

“7. A movable Column or Columns of Riflemen and Armstrong’s guns might
not arrive at the point in time. Defences must be permanent and leave
nothing to chance.

“8. The assertion that ‘No force would ever attempt a landing on
a hostile shore in the face of 2000 Riflemen supported by good
artillery,’ is very correct, but it must be observed that this small
force would cover but an atom of the coast, and the enemy would land
on either flank, leaving a force in front of the ‘atom of defence.’

“11. Arm the People, who have demonstrated their readiness. Place
such an armament under a system of organization which would ensure
obedience. That authority to emanate and be exercised direct from the
Crown, and to descend by a continuous chain of responsibility from the
Crown to the private. Thus would England be so armed as to prevent the
melancholy exhibition of a Panic, as injurious to her trade throughout
the world as it is degrading to her position as a State. Nothing so
well ensures the friendship of nations as irresistible power.

“12. I conclude by asserting that the Navy, some small fortifications,
the Army and Militia, and the ‘Rifle Volunteers’ (in other words,
‘the Armed People of invincible England’) will ensure her defence as
effectually as they will re-establish her ‘prestige’ throughout Europe
and the world.”

At Glasgow, when the survivors of the “Sharpshooters” of 1819 met
to consider the question of re-embodying the old force, they wrote
to their old commander, and received a letter from him full of
reminiscences of his Glasgow days, and full of encouragement to them to
do what they were proposing—

“London, Feb. 7, 1860.

“My war cry for England has ever been, _Arm the people!_... Some of
my gallant and experienced comrades who write upon the subject of the
defence of England take as extreme and one-sided a view as some of
our leading journals do on the other—the one declaring the inutility
of Volunteers, the other that they are omnipotent. I ask either of
these extremities—If you saw a large French army in battle array,
which must occupy a large tract of country, with artillery, cavalry,
and _their_ sharpshooters, how do you propose to check their advance?
I cannot conjecture the reply of either. But this I will assert and
maintain, with my last breath—It is alone to be done by a combination
of regular troops, as a barrier and a reserve, with swarms of riflemen
everywhere as powerful—most powerful—auxiliaries. We must bear in
mind that the distance from our coast to London is barely three days’
march, hence the object of the enemy is to advance by a _coup de main_
to seize London. Could I say loose troops would stop them? No. But a
combination would ensure their defeat, and then let loose the sons
of Britain, with this command—‘_Forward_ and shoot; you shall all be
supported at the requisite points.’ Should any enemy have the audacity
to attempt our shores, could he avoid our ever invincible Navy, I
as a General of some experience in war, would be proud to command a
combined force as I have described, and ‘Let deeds show.’...

“One word more. _Teaze_ not our youths as Volunteers with the minutiæ
of drill—a few things are alone necessary. To march in quick time,
to march in column, form line, gain ground to the right and left,
to advance again in line, to extend and occupy bridges or walls; a
rallying square may be practised. Soldiers require these alone in the
field. Then, to be _good shots_. Pluck enough they have, and, with
prompt obedience, England’s regular army, so nobly supported and its
numbers so increased, can, may, and _will_ defy the ——.

“Let our watchword be,

“‘Arm the People.’
“Ever faithfully yours,
“H. G. Smith.

“To Peter Mackenzie, Esq., _Gazette_ Office, Glasgow.”[237]

When others were timorous of the Volunteer Movement as a danger to
public order, Harry Smith saw in it the possible salvation of the
country which he had served valiantly with the sword and could serve
now only by words.

His spirit was still high, and it chafed him to live in London without
horses and on a diminished income. He had never had the art of saving
money, and he now writes (7th March) to Major Payne—

“You would laugh to see me poring over twopences. Hang me if I know
how people in England live. I hate London, and I love you, Tom.

“Your friend,
“Harry Smith.”

He says in the same letter that he had taken a cold at the funeral of
his old friend Sir William Napier, but when he writes again on 12th
June he gives a better report of himself.

“Everybody tells me I look well. I am thin, but as active as ever. I
want horses and that stirring exercise. I _say nothing_, Tom, but I
do feel the loss, for the last fifty years having ever had a right
good stud. But you can’t eat your cake and have it. London full of
_the world_, a most heartless reunion; it is for the _girls_ a regular
Constantinople. Tom, do write often. I don’t care what the subject
of your letter may be, so that it is not melancholy. Say it rains or
don’t rain; yesterday ’twas fine, to-day pouring with rain again.”

Two months later the old man has had a warning that his sands are
nearly run. He asks his “dear old Tom Payne” to copy a paper which he
has drawn up.

“You won’t d—— me, won’t you? I have not been well lately with violent
palpitation of the heart, and I should not like to slip my wind
without an attempt to secure for Juana the pension of my rank which
must be an especial [one?]. I have consulted Yorke and Bell, who agree
in my course; but, Tom, I am no nearer dropping off the hooks for
doing this.

“Yours,
“Harry Smith.

“I write _on my back_ to-day, but _much better_. Say nothing of all
this.”

The following letter, addressed to Major Payne by Colonel Shadwell
(Q.M.G. at Manchester), though of the nature of a false alarm, shows
the coming of the end, and how it struck home to those who loved him.

“Manchester, 15th Sept. 1860.

“My dear Tom,

“You will probably have heard from London direct of our dear old
friend Sir Harry’s alarming state. From Alice’s account this morning,
he was yesterday morning _in extremis_, and ere this has most likely
breathed his last.

“It has come like a thunderbolt on us, as only five days ago Lady
Smith wrote to us in such good spirits about the dear old man.

“We saw him, I am now thankful to say, when in town for a few days the
middle of last month.

“I presume, from the intense agony he has endured, that he has
succumbed to an attack of angina pectoris.

“What a friend we have lost! so true, so constant, so generous, so
kind, and then to think of dear Lady Smith! I shudder to think of what
her state will be when she comes to realize it.

“My wife is quite upset by it, and so am I.

“Always, my dear Payne,
“Yours very truly,
“Lawrence Shadwell.”

On the 12th October, at 1, Eaton Place West, which had been his home
for the last six months, the end came. Sir Harry had reached the age of
73 on the 28th June preceding.

A year before, in sending his nephew George Moore Smith a subscription
towards the restoration of St. Mary’s, Whittlesey, he had written, “I
enclose a cheque for _our_ subscription to the repairs of the Dear
Old Church, which I do most willingly, and should do more willingly
if _our_ bones could repose with our fathers.” But though the church
where his father and mother lay was closed for interments, he could
still be taken to Whittlesey, and there in a corner of the new cemetery
he was laid to rest on the 19th. All business in the little town was
suspended for the day, and some thousands of the inhabitants of the
town and district lined the route of the procession. The Rifle Corps
of Ely, Wisbeach, March, Ramsey, and Whittlesey were represented at
their own request, and with arms reversed preceded the hearse from the
station to St. Mary’s Church, and thence to the cemetery. The coffin
was borne by eight old soldiers who had all served under Sir Harry, and
had all won medals; the pall-bearers were six Whittlesey gentlemen,
most of them his schoolfellows. Among the mourners were his surviving
“Waterloo brother,” Major Thomas Smith, his nephew Lieut.-Colonel Hugh
Smith, Colonel Garvock, his Military Secretary at the Cape, and Colonel
Shadwell, whose letter has been printed above. Three volleys were fired
over the grave by the volunteers of Whittlesey, March, and Wisbeach.

A sum of £700 was subscribed to found a memorial to Sir Harry Smith’s
memory, and was spent on the restoration of that part of St. Mary’s
Church, Whittlesey—the chapel at the end of the south aisle—in
which, when it was used as a schoolroom, he had received his early
education.[238] It is now known as “Sir Harry’s Chapel.” On the south
wall was erected a monument of white marble surmounted by a bust of
Sir Harry, executed by Mr. G. G. Adams, A.R.A.[239] It bears the
inscription:—

“This monument was erected and this chapel restored in 1862 by public
subscription to the memory of Lieutenant-General Sir Harry G. W.
Smith, Baronet of Aliwal, Knight Grand Cross of the Most Honourable
Order of the Bath, Colonel of the 1st Battalion, Rifle Brigade. He
entered the 95th Regiment in 1805, served in South America, Spain,
Portugal, France, North America, the Netherlands, India, and at the
Cape of Good Hope, of which he was Governor and Commander-in-Chief
from 1847 to 1852, and on the Home Staff to 1859, when he completed
a most gallant and eventful career of fifty-four years’ constant
employment. He was born at Whittlesey, 28th June, 1788,[240] and
died in London 12th October, 1860. Within these walls he received
his earliest education, and in the cemetery of his native place
his tomb bears ample record of the high estimation in which his
military talents were held by his friend and chief, the great Duke of
Wellington.

“Coruna, Busaco, Fuentes d’Onoro, Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca,
Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Orthez, Toulouse, Waterloo,
Maharajpore, Ferozeshuhur, Aliwal, Sobraon, South Africa.[241]

“O Lord, in Thee have I trusted; let me never be confounded.”[242]

[Illustration: SIR HARRY’S CHAPEL.

(His monument is on the left.)

_From a watercolour by Mrs. B. S. Ward._

[_Opposite p. 684._]

On Sir Harry’s tomb in the cemetery, Lady Smith caused to be inscribed
the last sentences of the extract from the Duke of Wellington’s speech
of 2nd April, 1846, given above (pp. 558-560), though in a slightly
different version.

After her husband’s death, Lady Smith resided for some years at 19,
Robertson Terrace, Hastings, and later at 79, Cadogan Place, S.W.
Passionately cherishing her husband’s memory, she was the beloved
friend of all members of his family, and the goodness of heart and
active sympathy which she showed to some who were heavy-laden will
never be forgotten by their descendants. The editor of this book
recalls from his boyhood the proud and animated tones in which she
would speak of “Your uncle Harry”—pronouncing the name with the full
Continental _a_ and a strongly trilled _r_. Her noble heart ceased to
beat on the 10th October, 1872, and she was laid with her hero in his
last resting-place at Whittlesey.

Of the other close friends and companions of Sir Harry Smith, Charles
Beckwith died in July, 1862, among the Piedmontese whom he had
served so truly; Sir John Bell in 1876, having lived to the age of
ninety-four.[243] Sir Harry’s sister, Mrs. Sargant (of whom it has
been humorously said that she was “the only person in the world of
whom he was afraid”), died in 1869; his youngest sister, Miss Anna
Maria Smith, in 1875; his brother, Colonel Thomas Smith, C.B.—the last
survivor of the family of eleven—in 1877. Colonel Smith’s widow still
lives at the age of ninety-three, fresh in body and mind, though it is
ninety-three years since her husband sailed to the Peninsula under Sir
John Moore.[244]

Few words are necessary in bringing this book to a close. If it has
been a long one, the Editor can only plead that Harry Smith put more
into his seventy odd years than would make the lives of half a dozen
other men.

The autobiography shows us the strong family affections of his
boyhood, his abiding reverence for his father, who had made him a
_man_ and a bold horseman, his love of brave soldiers like Colborne
and Barnard and Pakenham, his supreme worship of his great master
and example, Wellington. Such were the influences under which he was
trained for the service of his Sovereign and of his country. In the
hour of responsibility it was seen that he possessed in rare harmony
qualities on which that training had not been thrown away—“an ardent
spirit, which inflamed a whole army with kindred ardour, combined with
a power of self-control which kept the mind clear and calm in the
most difficult emergencies—the union of fiery passion with temperate
reason.”[245] A born leader, he never lost the confidence of the
officers and men who were under his command—he had it as clearly amid
the anxieties and disappointments of the Kafir War of 1851-2 as after
his marvellous campaign of Aliwal. His soldiers literally loved him,
both for his bonhomie and for his lifelong zeal for their welfare.[246]

Sir Harry Smith was above all things a great soldier. In his civil
administration of the Cape, undertaken at a time of enormous
difficulty, his success was less brilliant than elsewhere, but even
here he justified Havelock’s opinion of him: “There is no species of
business which Harry Smith’s mental tact will not enable him to grasp.”
History will approve of the firm stand he made against mob-rule in
the time of the Anti-convict agitation, and, seeing events in true
perspective, will forget little errors of judgment (magnified at the
moment by party-feeling) when set side by side with his zeal for the
good of the Colony and his far-sighted perception of England’s true
policy in South Africa.

Such practical mistakes as Harry Smith made, both within the Colony
and in his dealings with Kafir chiefs, were due to a generous,
chivalrous disposition, which was ready to put the best construction
on other people’s conduct and to attribute to them a goodness of heart
resembling his own. With an open foe, in warfare, he was caution
itself, but he was too little of a Macchiavelli to read treachery in
the smile of a seeming friend. A generous open nature was similarly
responsible for such flaws in his character as his hastiness and warmth
of language under provocation,[247] as his extravagance in money
matters (strangely contrasting with the severity in many respects of
his own life), and a little vanity in regard to his own achievements,
a vanity perhaps not more real than other men’s, but occasionally
less carefully concealed. If he sometimes seemed to his subordinates
an exacting master, we may remember that during his whole career as a
soldier he had never spared himself.

If any one were disposed to take an unfavourable view of this or that
trait in Harry Smith’s character, I hope the picture given of him in
these pages would be a sufficient corrective. Praised by Wellington for
his generalship as hardly any man else was praised, acknowledged by
Havelock as the man who had made him a soldier, he had through life the
warm respect and love of a score or two of brave and worthy men, such
as D’Urban, and John Bell, and Kempt, and Barnard, and Kincaid, and
George Simmons, and Charles Beckwith. They recognized his rare military
genius: they respected him because, in his own words, he had always
been “a working man who put his heart into his work:” they loved him
for what Lord Raglan called “the chivalrous and gallant spirit” which
had been his guide in his military career; because he was fearless of
danger, indomitable in energy, overflowing in kindness, magnanimous and
placable towards those who seemed his foes, loving his friends, even
to his old age, with the ardour of a boy. Little wonder that one of
the noblest and largest-hearted of women also pardoned his faults and
adored him as only few men have been adored.

Historians may perhaps find some matter of instruction in the
autobiography now presented to them. But is it too much to hope that
it may have a still happier fortune, and that young Englishmen and
Englishwomen yet unborn may be kindled to a noble emulation by the
brave and glowing hearts of Harry and Juana Smith?

APPENDIX I.

Diary of the Expedition to Monte Video, etc.

1806-7.

“E’er since reflection beam’d her light upon me
You, sir, have been my study; I have plac’d
Before mine eyes, in every light of life,
The father and the king. What weight of duty
Lay on a son from such a parent sprung,
What virtuous toil to shine with his renown,
Has been my thought by day, my dream by night:
But first and ever nearest to my heart
Was this prime duty, so to frame my conduct
Tow’rd such a father, as, were I a father,
My soul would wish to meet with from a son.
And may reproach transmit my name abhorr’d
To latest time, if ever thought was mine
Unjust to filial reverence, filial love.”

Mallet.

1806. _Nov. [Oct.?] 9th._—Sailed from Falmouth under convoy of
His Majesty’s ship _Ardent_ (Capt. Donnelly), _Unicorn_ frigate,
_Daphne_, 20-guns ship, _Pheasant_ and _Charwell_, Sloops-of-war, with
a fleet of about 25 transports, a store-ship for the Cape of Good
Hope, and a merchant ship for the East Indies. The force consists
of a Company of Artillery, under Capt. Dixon; three Companies of
the 2nd Battalion Rifle Regiment, under Major T. C. Gardner; 17th
Light Dragoons, Col. Loyd; 40th Regiment of Foot, Col. Browne; and
87th, Col. Sir Edward Butler; the whole under Brigadier-General
Sir Samuel Auchmuty. Brigadier-General the Hon. William Lumley,
Brigadier of the Horse; Lieut.-Col. Bradford, Deputy Adjutant-General;
Lieut.-Col. Bourke, Deputy Quartermaster-General; Captain Blake,
Assistant Adjutant-General; Lt. Tylden, Brigade-Major to Sir Samuel;
Captain Roach, Brigade-Major to General Lumley; Mr. Baddock, Deputy
Paymaster-General; Mr. Bissett, Deputy Commissary of Accompts; Mr.
Redman, Deputy Inspector of Hospitals. A fine breeze until the 12th,
when we were becalmed in the Bay of Biscay. Lovely weather.

_13th._—A breeze sprung up which increased into a gale. Blew dreadfully
hard. Sea ran mountains high. Continued until the 16th, when it
gradually died away; a heavy sea still running, with the heavy rolling
of the ship, sprang the main piece of our rudder. We made a signal
of distress, which was instantly answered by the Commodore, who made
a signal to the _Charwell_ to come alongside us, which she did, and
hailed us. She immediately sent a boat on board with her carpenter.
Soon after the _Unicorn_ came up with us. She also sent a boat on
board, with a lieutenant, midshipman, and carpenter, with everything
requisite to repair our rudder, which was soon done. A steady breeze
until the 18th, when it again blew hard. The _Daphne_ and a Transport
with 150 men of the 40th Regiment parted convoy in the night. Still
continued to blow until the 23rd, when we were becalmed. Lovely
weather. Captain of the ship took an observation for the first time
since at sea. Latitude 47° 35′ North.

_24th._—Breeze sprung up. Lat. 39° 37′. Breeze freshened. Continued
until the 30th. Commodore lost a man overboard. Lovely weather. In the
evening observed two large whales close to the ship. They followed us
some time and greatly amused us. Lat. 32° 9′.

_Nov. 1st._—At daybreak discovered land, to our great delight. It
proved to be the Canary Isles. In sight of them the whole of the day.
The ground appeared mountainous and barren, with an aspect bleak to a
degree. Beautiful weather, with a fine breeze which soon carried us
into the Trade winds. The flying-fish begin to be innumerable.

_Nov. 4th._—Lat. 23°. A shark passed close under our stern.

_Nov. 5th._—Lat. 21° 40′. Fine fresh breeze. The _Harriet_ Transport,
with the Artillery on board, made a signal of distress, which proved
to be from the death of her captain. Flying-fish so numerous, they
resemble large flocks of larks. Some of them were by accurate
observation seen to fly from 100 to 200 yards and upwards.

_Nov. 6th._—Lat. 18° 31′. Fine fresh breeze. In the evening an
unfortunate flying-fish flew on board us, being close pursued by an
enemy, which measured 8 inches from head to tail, and 9½ from the
extreme of each wing. Tail forked like a mackerel. Cooked him for
breakfast the next morning. Every one tasted him.

_Nov. 7th._—Lat. 16° 53′. Thermometer 80° in the shade. Weather
very warm. Signal from Commodore for Commanding Officers of Corps.
A fine turtle close to the ship. We wished for him on board. To our
astonishment, although a considerable distance from land, we were in
shoal water the whole of the day, supposed to be a sand-bank, the water
by times being quite discoloured. Commodore, not meaning to put into
any port, made a signal for the troops and seamen to be put on short
allowance of water, two quarts per man, all ranks.

_Nov. 8th._—Lat. 15° 19′. Therm. 84°. Scorching hot. Speared some fish
at the bow of the ship.

_Nov. 9th._—Lat. 15° 12′. Therm. 82°. Fine weather, but no breeze.
Caught two venata with bait. They resemble a mackerel as much as
possible, except that they are about twice as large. Cooked them.
Coarse, hard and bad eating. A flying-fish flew on board and fell into
a tub of water.

_Nov. 10th._—Lat. 14° 34′; long. 23°. Therm. 83°. _Pheasant_,
Sloop-of-war, made sail in search of land, which must be the Cape de
Verd Isles. Suppose she made it, as she joined convoy in the evening.

_Nov. 11th._—Lat. 12° 57′. Therm. 82°. Venata are innumerable. It is
very amusing to see them leap out of the water in pursuit of the poor
flying-fish.

_Nov. 12th._—Lat. 10° 49′. Therm. 82°.

_Nov. 13th._—At 10 a.m. every appearance of a storm. The clouds put
on a terrible aspect. Fortunately it was not violent, going off with
torrents of rain. Five minutes before 5 p.m. a waterspout was observed
to the westward, which emptied itself in torrents over the bow of the
_Pheasant_ without intermission, until 5 minutes past 5.

_Nov. 14th._—Dark cloudy weather. No observations.

_Nov. 15th._—Lat. 7° 53′. Therm. 83°. A boat of the _Charwell’s_
swamped as they were about to hoist it up. All hands overboard, but
saved. Went on board the Commodore with returns to the General.

_Nov. 16th._—Lat. 6° 38′. Therm. 86°. Sultry close weather, with
storms of thunder and lightning. Stark calm, with tremendous showers,
the rain coming down in torrents, not drops.

_Nov. 17th._—Lat. 6° 17′. Therm. 82°. Weather less sultry, with heavy
showers. A large flight of birds resembling ducks ahead, so close
together in the water they resemble a floating island. Loaded rifles
and fired at them, but to no purpose.

_Nov. 18th._—Lat. 6° 1′ Therm. 84°. No breeze. Tremendous thunderstorm,
with torrents of rain.

_Nov. 19th._—No observation, being cloudy dirty weather. A signal for
masters of transports to go on board Commodore. A brig sent home for
inattention and not obeying signals. The troops on board her were
distributed on board different ships. Wrote letters home in hopes of
being able to send them by her, but a breeze springing up prevented our
lowering a boat, to my great disappointment.

_Nov. 20th._—Lat. 4° 44′. Therm. 82°. Nice breeze but rather ahead. At
6 p.m. the _Pheasant_ passed us under all sail. On coming alongside the
Commodore she hoisted his ensign, which was immediately returned by
him. It is always done when a ship parts convoy. Suppose she is sent
forward to Buenos Ayres.

_Nov. 21st._—Lat. 3° 45′; long. 26° 38′ West. Therm. 82°. Fine breeze.

_Nov. 22nd._—Lat. 3° 14′. Therm. 81°. Squally. Wind changing often and
suddenly.

_Nov. 23rd._—Lat. 2° 30′. Therm. 80°. Weather cool, considering how
near we are to the sun.

_Nov. 24th._—Lat. 1° 49′. Therm. 82°. Fine breeze but rather ahead.
Evening squally. A strange sail to windward. Proved to be an American.

_Nov. 25th._—Dark and cloudy. No observation. Plenty of wind.

_Nov. 26th._—Lat. 15′ South; long. 32° West. One of the sailors caught
an immense large albacore with a spear. Took three men to haul him in.
He had a curious prickly fin upon his back, which he could completely
hide in a crevice so as not to be perceived, and when hurt would set it
up. Sea completely covered with flying-fish. A signal made for our ship
to take in tow the _Three Sisters_, a small brig, she being to leeward.
Ran down to her and obeyed the signal.

_Nov. 27th._—Lat. 1° 29′; long. 32°. Speared another large albacore,
which measured 4 feet long and 2 feet 9 inches in circumference.

_Nov. 28th._—Lat. 3°. Therm. 82°. Signal made by Commodore signifying
land in sight, bearing south-south-west, upon which he altered his
course one point more to the westward. Supposed to be the island
Ferando Noronha.

_Nov. 29th._—Lat. 4° 12′. Therm. 84°.

_Nov. 30th._—Lat. 5° 27′; long. 34° 15′. Therm. 81°. Took in tow the
_Osborne_, a large ship with Dragoons on board.

_Dec. 1st._—Lat. 6° 39′. Therm. 82°. At 6 o’clock a.m. a signal made by
Commodore signifying land in sight, supposed to be Cape Augustin.

_Dec. 2nd._—Lat. 8° 20′. Therm. 82°. Have observed for these two or
three days the flying-fish have almost entirely disappeared.

_Dec. 3rd._—Lat. 10° 3′. Therm. 81°. The two merchant ships, the
_Lincoln_ and _Loyalist_, the former bound to the East Indies, the
latter store-ship for the Cape of Good Hope, parted convoy. On altering
their course every ship hoisted her ensign, which was returned by them
by way of farewell. Had a pretty effect.

_Dec. 4th._—Lat. 12° 42′. Therm. 81°. Lovely breeze. A signal for
masters of transports to caulk and prepare their boats for landing.

_Dec. 5th._—Lat. 15° 24′. Therm. 80°. A schooner in sight to the
westward bearing down for us. Overhauled by the _Charwell_, and proved
to be a Portuguese bound for San Salvador.

_Dec. 6th._—Fresh breeze. No observation.

_Dec. 7th._—Lat. 19° 26′. Therm. 82°. Observed a shark which followed
the ship a long time, accompanied with three pilot fish. Threw a bait
to him, upon which one of his pilot fish swam to it and tasted, and
reported accordingly to its master. Observed the breeze to die away by
day and blow by night.

_Dec. 8th._—Lat. 20° 8′. Therm. 86°. Dreadfully hot.

_Dec. 9th_—Lat. 20° 48′; long. 39° 34′.

_Dec. 10th._—Lat. 22° 5′; long. 40° 29′.—A signal from Commodore
signifying land in sight, supposed at first to be Rio Janeiro,
afterwards proved to be Cape Frio, about 40 miles distant from it.
Therm. 85°. A tremendous thunderstorm, louder than anything I ever
heard.

“Loud thunder from the distant poles ensue,
Then flashing fires the transient light renew.”

_Dec. 12th._—Beating all day off Cape Frio, endeavouring to get into
port. Wind ahead. At 9 p.m. wind came round. Weathered Cape Frio.

_Dec. 13th._—Made the bay. On the first appearance of the land it put
me in mind of the following lines in Thomson’s _Hymn on the Seasons_:—

“Should fate command me to the farthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beams
Flame on th’ Atlantic Isles, ’tis nought to me,
Since God is ever present, ever felt,
In the void waste as in the city full,
And where _He_ vital spreads, _there_ must be joy.”

Appearance of the land before the entrance of the harbour, mountainous
and woody. At 7 p.m. came to an anchor at the mouth of the harbour. The
darkness of the night prevented our going in. The hills surrounding
illuminated with the most vivid lightning I ever saw, equally beautiful
as awful.

_Dec. 14th._—At 12 weighed anchor. The entrance of the harbour is very
grand. On the left hand is an immense rock called the Sugar-loaf, which
it correctly resembles. At the foot of it is a strong battery. On the
right hand is a pretty little fort, apparently very strong, having
three tiers of heavy guns. At a small distance from the mouth of the
harbour is a little island with a fort upon it, which gives the bay a
pretty and rather romantic appearance. As soon as the Commodore came to
an anchor, he fired a salute of 19 guns, which was immediately returned
by the different batteries, the echo of which in the surrounding hills
was beyond description grand.

General, Staff, and Commodore went on shore to call upon the Viceroy.
When in the boat the _Ardent_ fired a salute of 15 guns to them. The
General obtained permission for the officers and a proportion of men to
go on shore.

_Dec. 15th._—Went on shore, and was highly delighted with the town of
Rio Janeiro. It is very large but irregularly built, situated on a
spacious and commodious bay. You land nearly opposite the Viceroy’s
palace, which stands on the south side of a large and regular square.
You see nothing scarcely but poor slaves carrying immense loads, and
friars in their cocked hats going to and from the monasteries. Their
carriages resemble in some manner our single-horse chaises, but badly
made and drawn by two mules. On the near one rides the charioteer, in
a huge cocked hat; the off one is in the shafts. They go astonishingly
quick. Saw but few horses, those small and bad. The mules are most
beautiful animals, and the inhabitants tell you are much more
serviceable then the horses. They are as clean about the legs as our
race-horses, and full of spirit. Fowls and ducks plentiful, but rather
dear. The oxen and sheep are small and bad. Pigs in abundance. Fruits
of all sorts. Pines are larger than ours, but not so fine flavoured;
you get them for 6_d._ apiece. Oranges, lemons, limes, sweet and sour,
bananas, yams, etc., etc. They make no butter or cheese. They get
it from England or America. The grandees, when they appear abroad,
are carried in a kind of palanquin, which is borne on two negroes’
shoulders. Most of these are blue, and adorned with fringes in general
of the same colour. They have a velvet pillow, and above the head a
kind of tester with curtains. He may either lie down or sit up. (See
Guthrie.)

I must think, from what we have seen of the inhabitants, Guthrie speaks
too harshly of them. They paid us every attention—nay, so much so that
they were troublesome; and were honest in their dealings. The canoes
afforded us great amusement. They are rowed by two or three negroes,
according to the size of them—not with oars, but a thing resembling a
spade. They appear, as they go along, to be digging the water.

I went into one of their monasteries, the chapel of which was very
grand. There was also a capital library. The monks were extremely
polite, and showed us everything particular. Their service is in Latin.
There are four monasteries, and two nunneries filled with poor wretches
of girls, who are not allowed to speak to their own fathers. I dined
in what they call a cooking-house. The host showed us into a miserable
back room looking into the kitchen, where was a black fellow cooking.
My stomach was not yet turned. No glass in the window (but that is
the case with all the houses, except those of the grandees), and the
light shining through the pantiles over our heads. We had for dinner
first some macaroni soup, half oil, and scraped cheese to eat with
it; afterwards some mutton chops swimming in grease, pork chops in a
similar way, a pair of fowls we could scarcely pull to pieces, not
an atom of flesh on their bones. There was also a piece of thin beef
rolled up with the stuffing in it and roast—a famous dish for a hungry
mastiff dog. These being removed, we then had a cold plum-pudding,
which was very good. We drank at dinner bad American bottled ale,
afterwards some decent port wine. When we called for our bill, we were
all amazingly astonished. It came to 4880—_whats_, we could not tell.
We afterwards found it was about six dollars. They give you always
their bills in that way in some imaginary coin about half a farthing
value.

_Dec. 16th._—Did not go on shore. At 6 p.m. a Portuguese brig came into
harbour, laden with poor wretches of slaves just taken from the Guinea
coast—the most horrid sight imaginable.

_Dec. 17th._—Went to see a grand review of the Portuguese troops. They
performed pretty well. There was a regular regiment of militia, and a
volunteer, with some dragoons and artillery, amounting in all to about
2000 men. After it was over, all the English officers were presented to
the Viceroy. Nothing more worth setting down. All of us quite tired of
the place, and anxious to get away.

_Dec. 23rd._—Sailed for Buenos Ayres. Nice breeze.

_Dec. 24th._—Lat. 24° 47′. Out of sight of land. Therm. 80°.

_Dec. 25th._—Lat. 25° 32′. Therm. 76.° Blows hard, with a heavy sea.

_Dec. 26th._—Lat. 26° 51′. Heavy swell and no breeze. An immense shoal
of porpoises swimming towards the north. In hopes of a fair wind, as
they always swim against the wind.

_Dec. 27th._—Lat. 27° 48′. Stark calm. At 4 a.m. a strong breeze sprung
up, but quite ahead.

_Dec. 28th._—Lat. 27° 52′.

_Dec. 29th._—Lat. 27° 29′; long. 47° 9′. Went on board the Commodore.
A large shoal of porpoises by their swimming portending a fair wind,
which soon sprung up.

_Dec. 30th._—Lat. 30° 21′.

_Dec. 31st._—Lat. 32° 11′. Anxious to get along, but the wind against
us.

1807. _Jan. 1st._—Lat. 32° 20′; long. 51° 15′.

_Jan. 2nd._—Lat. 32° 30′. Wind against us.

[_Remainder apparently written afterwards._]

Landed four miles north of Monte Video 16th Jan., had a sharp skirmish
with the enemy.

_19th._—A regular battle. Licked them confoundedly.

_20th._—A very severe action. The enemy’s loss very great.

_3rd Feb._—Stormed the fortress of Monte Video. A severe conflict.
Indeed, our loss, as well as that of the enemy, was very great.

_16th Jan., 1807._[248]—Sharp skirmishing with enemy.

_17th._—Ditto.

_18th._—Ditto.

_19th._—A regular and victorious battle in the open field.

_20th._—They made a sortie; were repulsed with great loss.

From the 20th Jan. to 3rd Feb. constant skirmishes. On the morning of
the 3rd Feb. stormed the fortress of Monte Video with severe loss on
both sides; but carried it.

_7th April, 1807_ [_7 June_?].—Colonel Pack made a sortie from Colonia
with 1000 men to meet Colonel Elio, whose force consisted of 1500.
Entirely routed him, and took six pieces of cannon.

_3rd June_ [_5 July_?].—Attacked Buenos Ayres by assault. Was made
prisoner, and confined three days and three nights.

Embarked for England, and arrived at Falmouth 5th Nov.

1808.—Embarked at Harwich for Sweden latter end of May [April?]. Sailed
soon afterwards. Was two months in Gottenburg harbour, when we sailed
for England, and refitted at Portsmouth for Portugal. Landed about 30
miles north of Lisbon latter end of July [August?]. Marched through
the south of Portugal into Spain. Had a very hot action with the
French between Villa Franca and Calcavellos 3rd Jan., 1809. The loss
was nearly equal on both sides. Take it all together, the most severe
conflict I ever saw.

Embarked at Corunna in January, and reached England soon after.

Ready to embark again.

APPENDIX II.

Some Family Letters preserved by Harry Smith with Particular Care.

_Letter I._ Endorsed—“_7^{th} May, 1813. From Eleanor on Stona’s
marriage.—H. G. S._”

Whittlesea, May 7^{th}, 1813.

My Dear Henry,

From the ardent desire which you have long expressed concerning
Stona’s marriage, it will, I am convinced, give you pleasure to hear
that the nuptials are at last solemnized. The ceremony took place on
Tuesday, which was the fourth of May. Mr. Coleman was father, and
of course led the bride to church. Stona, Kate, Charles, and Anna
Maria followed, and my Uncle Ground’s John in a handsome livery,
and Stona’s own servant (who is a particular smart-looking young
man) dressed in a drab coat, and a gold band on his hat—all new for
the occasion—attended to receive the bridesmaids’ parasols at the
church door, and remained there in waiting during the ceremony. When
concluded, the party returned to breakfast at my Uncle Ground’s,
where were assembled to meet them a group of relations consisting of
about two and twenty. Each of us was presented with a white favour,
the ringers and servants also. There were forty favours given away.
The bride and bridegroom, accompanied by Catherine, set off at twelve
for Cambridge, and from thence they proceeded to London. I assure
you they cut a dash. The postboy of course had a favour on his hat,
and James, Stona’s man, attended them on horseback as far as Ramsey.
Unfortunately it was a Newmarket meeting, and Cambridge was so full
that they could not get beds, were therefore obliged to proceed
another stage that evening. About five the next day they arrived in
the Metropolis, and when they had dined, they dressed for Covent
Garden Theatre. Stona repeatedly expressed a great wish that it
was possible to meet you in town. Neither the bride nor bridesmaid
would, I can venture to say, have had any objection to that. Never
poor fellow I think was in a greater agitation than Stona during the
ceremony and two days before. When he was being married he trembled in
such a manner that Anna Maria expected no other than he would drop the
ring—and he was himself much afraid lest he should have fainted at the
altar....

I must not omit to tell you what a very pretty place Stona’s house is,
and so handsomely furnished that I declare it is enough to make me
long to be married....

We are now always changing our Curates; next week Mr. Cook is going to
leave us, and that handsome gentlemanlike man, whom I mentioned to you
in my last, Mr. Powis, is to take his place. The young ladies, they
say, will become very religious, and many of them attend prayers.

I have, since writing the above, received a letter from you for which
I thank you a thousand times. Believe me, I am not offended at the
remark you made respecting my age, and the next time I hear from you,
I expect the letter addressed to “Mrs. Eleanor Smith.” You will, my
dear Henry, be six and twenty in June.

My Mother, I am happy to say, is better than when I last wrote,
though still rather delicate. My Father goes into quarters on Sunday.
Wisbeach, as usual, is to be head-quarters.

Mrs. W——, I fear, has not added much to her happiness by marrying
W——, for he is excessively idle, an _epicure_, a free _drinker_, and
a _notorious debauchee_. With such a man, can any woman be truly
happy?...

I hope you will lose no opportunity of writing, for, as I have
frequently observed, it is the greatest pleasure I can have in your
absence. Would to God we could have you among us. I never wished for
you more than I do now. My Mother is quite delighted that you wish to
see us.

As you do not say anything about Tom, I conclude he is well. Pray give
my love to him, and tell him that Mary Smith[249] is a pretty little
black girl, and generally allowed to be more interesting than ever her
sister was.

All your friends, my dear Henry, join in affectionate remembrance to
you and Tom; and sincerely wishing you health and happiness, believe
me to remain, dearest Henry, your truly affectionate sister,

Eleanor.

Addressed—

Brigade-Major Smith,
2nd Light Brigade,
Light Division,
Portugal.

Pd. 3/

_Letter II._ Endorsed—“_19^{th} August, 1813. The last letter
my dear Mother ever wrote to me. She died on the 12^{th}
December, 1813, Sunday.—H. G. Smith._”

Whitt^a, Aug^{st} 19, 1813.

My beloved Child^n,

What words shall I find sufficiently expressive to congratulate you
upon y^r great escape from the great perils and dangers you have been
exposed to, where so many of y^r brave countrymen have fallen? But
to God alone must the praise be given, who has preserved you both, I
hope to be an ornament to y^r country and a blessing to y^r friends,
and may God Almighty of his infinite mercy still hold his protecting
Arm over you both, and may we never lose sight of him, and have always
his goodness in our sight as never to neglect our duty for his great
mercies towards us at this time and all others.

This, my dear Harry, is an anxious time, and, tho’ we have not a
Lett^r from you, by the _Gazette_ we know that you are safe.

As for Tom, I think he never intends to write to eith^r of us again,
but I am proud to hear of him from you as being so brave a fell^w,
and hope to have Lett^{rs} by the next dispatches. We can make every
allowance for not hearing from you at this time, as indeed you must be
so much ingaged, but pray write whenever you can, and indeed it is one
of my greatest comforts.

I have been very ill, so much so that I never expected seeing eith^r
of you again, but with the blessing of God I am a very great deal
bett^r, and with the kindness of y^r Fath^r and the attention of y^r
Sis^{rs} I look forw^d with the hopes of seeing my beloved boys once
more under their parental roof....

We have been extremely healthy for a length of time that y Fath^r and
Bro^r make great complaints some time for want of something to do.

Poor R^d Binfield is no more. He payd the great debt of nature about
three weeks ago, after being a very great sufferer. When he was taken
to be buried, his Corpse was preceeded by six Girls dressed in white
with white turbans, and baskets of flowers in their hands, wh^h they
throwed into the grave as soon as the Corpse was let down. The Pall
was supported by six of the scho^{rs} in white Hat-bands, and the
whole Sch^l follw^d in the same way. It altogether was a pretty sight,
but rath^r too romantic, but you know the woman....

Y^r Sis^r Sargant is not in very good health, and is gone to Cromer.
It is upon the Norfolk coast, and is a very fashionable Bathing-place.
The rest of the Family, I am happy to say, are well. As for y^r dear
Fath^r, I think if you could see him you wou^d think he had grown fat.
We all Unite in Love to you and Tom, with best wishes for y^r healths
and prosperity. Pray write soon, and may God Almighty preserve you
both is the fervent prayer of y^r affec^e Moth^r,

E. Smith.

Eleanor desires me to say she is much oblidged to you for y^r Lett^r
and will write soon, and Betsy also says that unless Tom will write to
her she never will write again.

Addressed—

Brigade-Major Smith, Light Brigade,
2nd Light Division, Portugal.

Post paid to Falmouth.

_Letter III._ Endorsed—“_15^{th} Oct. 1813. From my Father,
saying my Mother was pleased with my Letter after a fight in
Spain.—H. G. S._”

Whittlesea, Oct^r 15^{th}, 1813.

My D^r Harry,

Your Mother receiv’d your letter the other day and myself one about a
fortnight back, both of which gave us great satisfaction, particularly
as you were both in good health and safe. We were in hopes as the
French were so much beaten by our brave fellows, and Soult having had
so good a specimen of the superior Abilities of Marshal Wellington
(superior they are indeed, for he is certainly the first General in
the world), that he wou’d have been glad to have got hived, and not
have exposed himself again to the second part of the same tune.

I was very sorry to hear of your Horse’s accident, as it must be a
great loss, but it was an accident and cou’d not have been prevented.
My Horse I bought for you to send into Portugal has turned out very
unfortunate. He has had a bad Cough on him for near a year, which
continued getting worse, and I was fearful of its terminating in
Glanders. Had he been quite well he was worth two hundred. However,
I was under the necessity of sending Long Will to Bridge Fair, and
selling him for what he wou’d fetch, which was fifteen pounds, leaving
me a loser of at least £100, for I was at great expence with him.

I was happy to find Cap^n Stewart’s horse turn’d out so well, but you
clapt your seal over the amount and we cou’d not read it. Send me the
amount when you write again. As to news I have none, for Eleanor gives
you that in all her letters.

I must say I feel hurt at Tho^s not writing at all.... I am very proud
to hear so high a character of him as an adjutant. Major Percival
came from Portsmouth with Bob Hotchkin to London, and seeing an
offic^r in the coach in 95^{th} uniform, he asked him if he knew Capt.
Smith, and he asked him which, Henry or Tom. They had a great deal
of conversation, and he said he believ’d Tom to be one of the best
adjutants in the service. A poor unfortunate Cripple he was. Bob was
with Gen. Murray at that noble business. He came Home extremely ill
indeed of Dysentery.

I am sorry to tell you poor Mr. Moore[250] I think is wearing up fast.
He has been severely afflicted with Rheumatism. He is better of Pain,
but left so weak and low that he can scarcely ride on horseback....

If any one is coming home that you can trust, I wish you wou’d send
me some flower seeds, but I am in great hopes you will bring them
yourself.

The Allies seem to be licking the French in Germany well, and I hope
will drive them into Peace.

We one and all unite in Love and affection to self and Tom, praying
God to protect you both is the prayer of your affect. Father,

Jn^o Smith.

Addressed—

Brigade-Major Smith, 95th Reg^t Rifle Corps,
Light Division, Light Brigade.
Serving under
Marshal Wellington,
Spain.

_Letter IV._ Endorsed—“_14^{th} Dec^r, 1813. My dear Father’s
Letter announcing my poor Mother’s Death.—H. G. S._”

Whittlesea, Dec^r 14^{th}, 1813.

We have received, my D^r Harry, your letter dated Sante Pe, Nov^r
14^{th}, and it was read by myself, your _D^r Mother_, Brothers, and
Sisters with infinite pleasure in finding you were both unhurt, and
with gratitude to the Almighty for the preservation of you both in
this and in every other danger you have so often been expos’d to.

But, my _D^r Boys_, what pain, what affliction is it to me to tell you
it is the last letter your poor dear Mother will ever hear or read
more from you.

You have been apprised of her ill health by your Sister Elean^r, and
we did not wish to distress your feelings by repeatedly telling you
the ill state of her health, for we were in hopes she might have got
well again. But alas! her D^r soul quited this earthly abode on Sunday
morning, Dec^r 12^{th}, in hopes of a joyful resurrection, which her
pious, virtuous, good life entitled her to hope for in her blessed
Lord and Redeemer. Oh Harry! she prayed constantly for the return and
welfare of you both; she suffer’d much in anxiety; she dearly, very
dearly lov’d you and adored you, and in her last prayers never lost
sight of her dear Boys abroad. She died in her perfect senses even to
the last moment. I hope she did not suffer very much in the separation
of soul and body.... Your poor distrest father, Brothers and sisters
all unite in the strongest love and affection for you both. God Bless
you.

Jn^o Smith.

Send a proper direction. Pray write to me on the Receipt of this.

Remember, my D^r Boys, that this letter is equally addrest to you both
by your very much afflicted Parent.

Addressed—

Brig^d-Major Smith,
Light Brigade,
Light Division,
Commanded by Col. Colborne,
Serving under Marq. Wellington,
France.

_Letter V._ Endorsed—“_19^{th} Feb^{ry}, 1814, after my poor
mother’s death, from my sister Eleanor.—H. G. S._”

Whittlesea, Feb^{ry} 19^{th}, 1814.

My Dearest Henry,

I received your melancholy and affectionate letter on the seventeenth,
and only waited to answer it until we could purchase a pair of Wild
Ducks to send with it to Mr. Angelo, who has very politely offered at
any time to forward our letters abroad. Heaven has indeed, my dear
Brother, thought proper to lay upon us a most heavy affliction; every
day proves to us the severity of our loss and the inestimable value of
her who is gone. You have indeed, my poor Henry, lost your best friend.
Never parent more truly loved a child than she did you. Never shall I
forget her the last time she read a letter from you. When I went in,
she raised her languid face from the pillow, and holding up the letter
to me, said with a heavenly smile, “I am quite purely [i.e. _well_]
to-day, my love, for I have had such a delightful cordial”—meaning your
letter. I have witnessed two deaths and heard of many, but never such
a one as our angel mother’s. For two months before her death, she was
not able to walk upstairs, but was carried up and down every day, and
laid upon a sopha in the dining-room. On the 10^{th} of December,[251]
she was so much worse, that we requested her not to leave her bed,
but she earnestly begged to be brought downstairs, and as soon as she
had recovered a little from the fatigue of being dressed and removed,
she told us that she felt her end approaching, and summoning my
grandmama, my aunts, and all her children around her, she took a long
and affectionate farewell of every one separately with as much calmness
and composure as if she was only going a short journey. With my father
she requested to be left alone, and continued talking with him for a
considerable time. She lamented greatly that she could not see her
other three boys, and wept when she left you her blessing. All the day
she spent in dozing, praying, and speaking peace and comfort to her
afflicted husband and children. Frequently she held up her hands to
look at her poor black nails, and would often request my father and
brother to feel her pulse, and begged they would tell her if it did not
get lower every time. She mentioned every particular respecting the
disposal of her clothes, and gave orders about being laid out and for
her funeral, and turning to my father, meekly said, “If not too much
expense, I should like a vault.” Oh, Henry, what a day was that! To
describe our feelings is impossible, but from your own on receiving the
intelligence of her death, you may form some idea of ours who witnessed
it. It was some consolation to us that she did not die below. She
loved to be carried upstairs. My father lay by her side all night, and
from her calm and comfortable slumbers was in hopes she would awaken
rather better. But when she awoke, she complained of being in a little
pain, which did not continue long. In about an hour after, with her
hands clasped in prayer, she breathed her last. Who, who beheld such a
scene as this could refrain from exclaiming, “May I die the death of
the righteous, and may my last end be like hers!” The highest respect
we can pay to her ever-lamented memory is to aim, my dear Henry, at
her perfection, that by a virtuous life here, we may be re-united
to her in Heaven. My poor Father is better than he was, but still
continues to feel his loss greatly, as do we all. But the conviction
of the eternal happiness of her for whom our tears flow blunts the
edge of our affliction. Our loss is most assuredly her gain. It is for
ourselves that we lament, and selfish indeed should we be to wish for
her return. Elizabeth is my father’s housekeeper, and Anna Maria and
her, by their attention to him, endeavour to assuage the bitterness
of his regret. Charles, by his own wish and the request of his dear
departed mother, is under the tuition of my Uncle Davie, who performs
to the uttermost—nay, I must say, exceeds the extent of his promise,
a convincing proof of his regard for her to whom he made it. Charles
neither boards nor sleeps in our house. At least, he does not breakfast
or dine with us, but he always comes in at eleven for some refreshment,
drinks tea, and sups with us constantly every evening, and on Sunday we
have his company all day. He is a very amiable, promising youth, and
I cannot speak too highly of my aunt and uncle’s kindness to him, nor
of his gratitude to them. Sam, by his own choice, is to be a surgeon
and apothecary, and by his good talents and attention has gained the
approbation of his father and brother. He is a very respectable English
scholar, and might have been a good Latin one if Mr. Binfield had
taught him properly, but by experience it is proved that, though Mr.
B. may understand that language himself, he is incapable of teaching
it to others. An opportunity has, however, presented itself for Sam
learning Latin in perfection, if he will be but diligent. Mr. Pratt,
our new curate, is allowed to be a classical scholar of considerable
eminence, and he has promised to instruct Sam.... Since my father was
in practice, he never had so little business as he has had for these
last two years. It is the general remark, that such a healthy time or
so long a continuance was never remembered. I was concerned to see
your friend Captain Eeles’ name in the list of wounded at the late
Engagement in Holland. I sincerely hope that the war is nearly at an
end, and that we may again meet, though the late melancholy change in
our family will render it both a happy and painful meeting. But you
must be confident that you have still many friends left, who dearly
love you, and believe me, no one better than myself.... All your
friends, my dear Henry, join in affectionate remembrance to yourself
and Tom, and believe me to remain if possible more than ever

Your truly affectionate Sister,
Eleanor Moore Smith.

_Letter VI._ Endorsed—“_13^{th} July, 1815. From my Father after
Waterloo, thanking God he had three sons unhurt.—H. G. S._”

Whittlesea, July 13, 1815.

My D^r Harry,

Never did I receive two Letters with such pleasure as your two last
since the fight at Waterloo. For three of you to have been engag’d
and to come off unhurt, must have been not the fate of chance, but
Providence seem’d to have watch’d over you all and protected you. How
grateful we all ought to be to the Almighty. I assure you my Prayers
have ever been offered up to the Throne of Grace, praying for the
Protection of you all, and a safe return to England. This has been one
of the most glorious, and most decisive, Battles that has been fought
this War. What a shocking sight to see the _Gazette_, it contain’d
full four Columns and a half of kill’d and wounded, and amongst them
so many Names I had so often heard spoke of. Poor Major Bringhurst
is among the kill’d, an only Son, and his poor father almost
broken-hearted.

Poor Mr. Moore is at my house, broken-hearted, and a most distrest
object in Health....

Poor Sudbury is dead, he has been a poor creature for many Weeks....

Your Mare was put to Cervantes, a Horse of L^d Fitzwilliam’s; she is
very well, and lying in my Wash ground with my Mare and foal, I think
the handsomest I ever saw. I am sorry to hear Charles’ Mare is like to
have bad feet; if so, the sooner she is disposed of, the better. Tell
Tom and Charles I expected to have heard from them long ago.

Give my Love to your Wife and tell her how much I felt for her, before
I heard of your fate, well knowing that she must have been dreadfully
alarm’d.

Your blood Mare is worth, Buckle tells me, a great deal of Money. Her
Dam is dead, and they have sent to him for her to Newmarket to breed
from.

Your sisters have told all the News, therefore I conclude with my Love
to your Wife and Brothers join’d with all at home.

I am your affect. father,
J. Smith.

Write soon.

Addressed—

Major Smith,
95^{th} Reg^t of Rifles,
Serving under the
Duke of Wellington,
France.

_Letter VII._ Endorsed—“_31^{st} Dec^r, 1816. My Father’s
Letter announcing the death of my good Grandmother, 83
years old.—H. G. Smith, Col._”

Whittlesea, Dec^r 31^{st}, 1816.

My D^r Harry,

After a very short tho’ not painful illness, your poor old Grandmother
paid the last debt of nature in the 83^{rd} y^r of her Age. During the
whole of the time she lay on her death-bed she retained her senses,
and died calm and reposed, a Blessing which God grant we may all do in
the same manner as she did, a Pattern of true Piety and Benevolence.
The changes in our family have within these last seven y^{rs} been
great, and _one of them_ painful and very distressing to me, having
lost that Companion whose Conduct endeared her to every one who at all
knew her, and, that being the case, how much more so must I have felt
her Loss! But these are trials we must all expect to meet with, and
let none of us in our _gay moments_ forget how soon the case may be
our own....

I find the House is to be sold, but times are so bad here now that
no one has got any money to purchase, however desirable they may be.
I hope if Charles and his Lady shou’d marry, they may become the
Purchasers....

Since the Death of poor old Jack, I have lost my Uria Mare, which I
was obliged to have shot. I afterwards bought a fine big Horse five
y^{rs} old, one I expected wou’d have proved valuable. After keeping
him about ten Weeks he made his exit as rotten as a Hare, so you see
I am one of those unfortunate Beings in the Horse way. I must now be
satisfied with my little Mare and my good old Gig Horse; when you are
tired of your bay Mare, forget not she is a particular favourite of
mine....

Remember me most kindly to all my friends, particularly Col. Achmuty,
Bell, and my old friend St. John.

Tell Charles we have not written to him as you wou’d be able to tell
him every particular. I hope his Mare turns out well and that he is
able to hunt her. How are all your Horses? I hope you have had good
hunting; it has been very wet here, and very heavy riding. I suppose
the same with you.

Give my Love to Juana, and tell her the whole of her Brothers and
Sisters do also.

I remain,
My D^r Harry,
Your affect. father,
Jn^o Smith.

Addressed—

Lieut.-Col. Smith.
Rifle Brigade,
Town Major,
Post p^d. Cambray,
France.

_Letter VIII._ Endorsed—“_18^{th} March, 1822. Eleanor as to the
Genealogy of my Mother’s family.—H. G. S._”

Whittlesey, March 18^{th}, 1822.

My dear Harry,

... You have desired me to collect for you all the information I can
of the Moore family, but that is very little. My good grandfather
Moore always used to say that he was descended from that great
though unfortunate man Sir Thomas Moore, who was beheaded in the
reign of Henry the eighth. Alice always says that she is sure we are
descendants, the arms are undoubtedly the same. When my poor Mother
was very young, my aunt Stona told her that she was descended from
no mean family, and to prove it unfurled a genealogical table which
reached half over the room, but my Mother was then so young that
she never could recollect much about it. She used to say that she
remembered seeing a number of Gabriel Moores. This table I am sorry
to say was destroyed during the riots in London. At that time my aunt
Stona lived in London and lost a great many valuable things. Our
great great grandfather was the first of the Moores who lived in
Whittlesey, and he was an Attorney and came out of Buckinghamshire.

... I must now say farewell, and with kindest love to yourself and
Juana, believe me, dear Harry, to remain your truly affectionate
sister,

Eleanor Moore Smith.

Addressed—

Lieut.-Colonel Smith,
Rifle Brigade,
Glasgow,
Scotland.

[_See Appendix VIII._, p. 794.]

_Letter IX._ Endorsed—“_2^{nd} Sep^r, reporting the death of my
poor and venerable Father, 2^{nd} Sep. 1843, ¼ before five
o’clock in the Morning; rec^d at Cawnpore 31^{st} Oct^{br},
1843.—H. G. S._”

Whittlesea, Sep^r 2, 1843.

My dearest Harry,

... Our beloved father breathed his last this morning at ¼ before 5
o’clock....

About three weeks ago Charles perceived an evident alteration in his
appearance. He became ill in health that week, and on Wednesday,
Aug^{st} 16^{th}, he took to his bed. His poor mind was in a most
distressed state and his terrors extreme. Unable to bear the suspense,
Anna Maria and myself set off for Whittlesea, Saturday, Aug^{st}
19^{th}. Eleanor had come to Charles’s from Northampton a few days
before, and on the Monday morning as we got to W. on the Sunday Tom
arrived. We found our poor father very ill, but certainly not like
immediate dissolution, tho’ his state was very precarious. We tried
to rouse him to recollection and to soothe him, and oh, blessed be
the Almighty for the mercy, we so far succeeded as to be convinced
that we restored him to happiness and peace. Tho’ not able to retain
recollection of us for many minutes together, he was ever conscious
that his children were about him; he blessed us, recognized us, asked
us to pray for him, to repeat the Lord’s Prayer, and one day he told
us he had _hope_, that God was a God of mercy. He never uttered
indeed two connected sentences, and he rambled incessantly, but the
character of his ramblings was altered—bits of hymns, parts of the
Psalms, exclamations to the Deity took the place of cries of terror,
etc. He was _happy_—our voices reached him and soothed him, and he
would reward us with a word or a look of love. He would lie in bed
and amuse himself with fancied dressings of himself, talk of driving,
etc., entreat to get out of bed, and would sit a few minutes in his
chair. On this day week we got him out of bed, when his happiness
was beautiful, but oh, the heartrending appearance he made! He was
_literally_ a skeleton; he had not an ounce of flesh on his whole
body, he was a breathing death. He knew us all, smiled on each (the
four daughters and Charles), dressed himself in imagination for a
walk and a drive, tied his handkerchief on his neck, and when he had
fidgetted away the blanket in which he was wrapt, and I put a light
chair cushion in his lap, saying, “It is cold, we must pull up the
apron of the gig,” he smiled and said, “What fun it is!” After a
little while he asked to go home; we laid him in bed and thought he
was dying. It was, however, but exhaustion, and he rallied again, but
he was never more so rational as this.

Oh, Harry, all my desire now was to gain something for you. I tried
him, asked him if he recollected you, spoke the name “Harry” in a
marked manner, and oh, Harry, you will thank me for this—at length he
said, “Harry, yes, God bless him.” I had touched the string. Some time
after he addressed a set speech (made of broken sentences) to Col.
Smith, in which he said he “thanked”—“noble deeds”—“to be praised”—and
much more that could not be gathered; but this was enough, his darling
son was not forgotten. He spoke much of William, always saying,
“William, I am coming,” and once he said, “Stop, Stona—I’ll go with
you.” He took decided notice of Anna Maria, but he held all our hands
as we sat by him, and would stroke them and take them to his cheek,
and even to his lips and kiss them. When he awoke in tears and we
spoke to him, it vanished and he became calm; and even when we prayed
by his side, if we told him not to interrupt us, he would become
quiet, seem to catch some sentences, become soothed and fall asleep.
The last three days he became very ill and the pains of death racked
him greatly, and it was _very_ sad to see his sufferings. He was dying
all yesterday and all the night, and oh, what an awful night we passed
by his bedside! He appeared to suffer a good deal from convulsive
affection of the muscles, but the strength of his constitution was
really wonderful. It was a hard struggle indeed for the victory.
After many hours’ most laboured breathing, he became gradually lower
and lower, and at length with one sigh, one struggle, one effort, he
breathed his last at ¼ before 5 o’clock this morning, Sept. 2^{nd},
having reached the great age of 87. We mean to lay him beside our
beloved mother on Wednesday afternoon....

I must close my letter, praying God to bless and comfort you, and
grant that hereafter we may all meet in Heaven and there form one
happy family again.... Kind love to you both from all.

Believe me your fond sister and friend,
J. A. Sargant.

APPENDIX III.

Memorandum addressed to Sir B. D’Urban on the Diet and Treatment of
Soldiers in Confinement.[252]

D.Q.M. General’s Office,
Cape Castle, [2 June?] 1834.

Your Excellency having been pleased to submit for my perusal various
documents relative to a scale of diet fixed by a Board of Officers, of
which the Hon. Colonel Wade, now Commandant of the Garrison of Cape
Town, was President, directing me to return them with any remarks
which my experience of five years as Commandant of that garrison may
enable me to afford, I beg to observe.

* * * * *

There are several officers under whom I have served whose example I
have ever endeavoured to imitate. The most conspicuous of them are
Sir Sydney Beckwith, Sir A. Barnard, and Sir J. Colborne. The leading
principle by which these officers of distinction were actuated was
that of kindness to their soldiers, and an endeavour to maintain
discipline by seeking out the meritorious to reward and commend rather
than the guilty to punish.

For the attainment of discipline and good order two modes are to be
adopted, encouragement and punishment. Towards well-disposed men, the
first is always preferable; the latter, however, must be appealed to,
but I have ever found great severity in punishment less calculated to
maintain discipline than a mild administration of the great power
Military Law vests in the hands of those in command.

In the study of my profession, to no branch of it have I paid greater
attention than to the prevention of crime and to the reform of the
ill-conducted, and the results of some years’ experience enable me
to affirm that it ought to be the duty of all officers, in the first
place, to endeavour by wise and salutary regulations to render every
one under their command happy. Cheerfulness is the mainspring of
discipline, and the desire to reward merit while crime is held in
execration, ought ever to be the delight of the officer. And although
for acts of disobedience and insubordination, or neglect of duty, I
would, _as I have done in this garrison_, inflict corporal punishment
to the utmost of my power, not only to punish the offender, but to
strike terror into the hearts of the spectators in the ranks, for
more moderate crimes, to see a fellow-creature, a comrade, dragging
on a miserable existence from week to week, nay, month to month,
in a solitary cell, or expected to be capable of daily labour and
occasionally to attend drills _on bread, rice, and water_, his bed a
watchcoat, _affording no public example_, is a species of protracted
cruelty I am as yet not prepared to inflict.

Confinement or the loss of liberty for a long period is in my mind,
under the most modified circumstances, a punishment severe indeed.
During the period I was Commandant, I made it a point to visit the
prisoners (whenever there were any) every Sunday, and the surgeon of
the week did the same during the week. I had written me a report to
that effect. My object was to see that they were in every respect as
clean as the meritorious soldier at duty, to ascertain that their
rations had been according to the scale hung up with my signature
in their cells, duly furnished them, and of a good quality, and by
conversation with them and pointing out the impropriety of their
conduct to ascertain their character. Many sentenced for a long period
I have taught to read and write; in the case of others, what little
knowledge they possessed I have improved by lending them books, etc.,
and in the proportion of ninety-nine in a hundred has my kindness been
attended by the most beneficial results. Some whose conduct in prison
was particularly good, and whose previous character was not heinous,
I have remitted several weeks’ confinement, ordering them to report
to me every Sunday, “My conduct has been good.” In no individual
instance, to the best of my recollection, has this leniency been
abused, and I will mention that in no garrison in His Majesty’s
dominions was heinous crime less frequent than in the garrison of Cape
Town whilst under my command.

No man is so degraded as not to be susceptible of kindness, and no man
so much requires a friend as he who has none even in himself. Many
is the vicious character I have reformed as captain of a company by
conduct of this sort, re-establishing a man in his own good opinion
and in that of his comrades. The want of a _point d’appui_ in distress
has been the ruin of many an individual, both civil and military, and
in my estimation the _morale_ amongst the soldiers tends far more to
attain discipline and happiness than the severe administration of
rigid justice. There are many of my brother officers, I am aware, who
differ very materially with me in this opinion, but, as practise makes
[perfect], I maintain that my system is the best, which, when combined
with a vigour of action in all military points, excites emulation
in both officers and soldiers and induces them to look up to their
commander as their friend.

* * * * *

The Royal Warrant now provides the sum of sixpence per diem for the
maintenance of prisoners without any reference to “bread and water,”
to ensure them being furnished with wholesome and sufficient food. I
cannot, therefore, for a moment conceive that reflection would put a
construction upon my prison-regulations as positively contrary to the
Royal Warrant.

Not only by inclination and predilection am I in all military acts
guided by the practice in the Light Division of the Duke’s army, but
[in this case] by Lord Hill’s circular letter bearing date 24th June,
1830.

My reasons, therefore, for submitting the scale of provisions I drew
up to the approval of Sir Lowry were—

(1) The practice in the Duke of Wellington’s army.

(2) The practice of the Light Division, ever construing all orders and
regulations to the benefit of the soldier.

(3) The Royal Warrant.

Although I very much differ in opinion from the Board as to the scale
they have fixed, I approve very highly of a distinction being made
between the diet of prisoners sentenced for long and short periods.

H. G. Smith.

APPENDIX IV.

Extracts from Harry Smith’s Letters to his Wife during the Kafir War,
1835.

Grahamstown, 30th Jan. 1835.

The Kafirs, from the manner in which I occupied all the passes in
their rear, had been beautifully harassed, and now fly from the sight
of _one_ of our people as rapidly as they flew towards him until
I stirred them up a little in their own country. So you recommend
shrapnel, grape, howitzers, shells! Well done! We will take your
advice: for old Johnstone[253] says true, you are the best general
he knows. I am sadly off for officers and assistants in my office.
Selkirk Stewart would be to me worth all the clerks in my office, and
old Johnstone all the officers I have in the field, Cox excepted.
The quantity I have to write and to do is really incredible, and
you know how quick I can get through my work. The people here are
astonished. But I have eased my labours very much by establishing
boards of gentlemen of the place and officers, one of clergymen for
the destitute families, one to receive the claims of all persons
whose property has been seized for military purposes, one to inquire
into the burgher force, a clothing board for the burghers, a labour
heretofore beyond even me. All these boards submit their proceedings
to me. I approve or disapprove, and act as supreme. Even thus, much of
my time is occupied; but it has reduced my labours much.

Bivouac between Fish and Keiskamma rivers,
close to Mount Somerset, 13th Feb.

Viva Enrique!
Mi queridissima muger,[254]

I have been in the field since Saturday last, sleeping in the bush,
_never better_. Was on horseback yesterday 28 hours, attacked the
Kafirs in five points like fun, gave them a good licking with a
trifling loss on our parts; seventy-three killed, counted on the
field, lots of wounded. Took 2500 head of cattle, goats, sheep,
etc.; gave them some of your shrapnel shells, but want a few of my
old Riflemen, although all my fellows are willing enough and full of
fight. Do not be afraid of Enrique. He takes good care of himself, and
never moves without 30 Cape Rifles as an escort.

A shocking accident occurred the night before last. The 72nd and other
troops lay in position waiting for daylight to attack; though every
precaution was taken and there was no fault, some one cried out, “The
Kafirs!” and the men jumped up and fired on each other before the
officers could speak. Three men were killed, and more desperately
wounded. This rather hindered my operations, because it alarmed the
enemy. However, thank God, I have done as much as I expected.

You cannot think how well I am. Nothing fatigues me, and although
my force is only 1200 men and 800 horses with four guns, yet my
operations are over an extent of 4000 square miles of country. We
were marching from 7 o’clock the 11th till 8 o’clock the 12th. No one
tired. This morning we want nothing but some grog, which I momentarily
expect. God bless you, old woman, and do not be afraid. Our God will
take care of us both. _Adios, alma mia._

Enrique.

Grahamstown, 26th and 27th Feb. 1835.

My Fish River trip was a very lucky one, and has had a great effect
on all the Kafirs. It is reported and believed that they are all
flying into Hintza’s country. He is a very powerful chief who has been
wavering in his policy towards us. He is, I believe, at the bottom
friendly, although he wishes to keep as much of the stolen cattle as
he possibly can. It is decided that the 75th Regt. remain on the usual
frontier line, and that the 72nd all go into Kafirland. The former
are as much mortified as the latter are delighted. To-day I go to
Hermanus Kraal, next day near to Fort Willshire to select a camp for
our invading force to assemble on. We are to select the most effective
men of the Burgher force, and send the remainder to the second line.
The Chief is now all for invasion. Paddy Balfour will be my A.D.C.

I should like you to see me with my escort, a trumpeter, a sergeant,
two corporals, and six fine fellows of the Cape Corps, five led
horses, Guides (a corps all well mounted), etc., and generally five or
six smart young fellows of volunteers; but I would give all the pomp
and glory of war for one quiet evening with _mi vida_ at Charlie’s
Hope,[255] though I am now writing by a nice little wood fire, as
comfortable as can be when away from my beautiful wife. You are in no
danger, _alma mia_, of being supplanted here. This is the most dull,
stupid, and horrid place on earth, celebrated for the most ugly of the
_fair sex_.

I have just been to inspect three detachments of Burghers. I will
give you a detail. One consists of 62 fighting men and horses, 50
non-combatants, 28 waggons. Another of 118 fighting men and horses,
80 non-combatants, 36 waggons. Only conceive what an army, and every
individual wants something, either shoes, shirts, bridle, saddle. It
is perfectly ridiculous, but yet when the poor fellows thus dragged
from their homes are in the field, they are good-humoured and willing
and shoot well enough. Oh! my old woman, glory is a fine thing,
domestic quiet is better. It was well enough when I was at the head,
but now second fiddle is slow. I am lazy and forget when things do not
fly like lightning.

All our own country is free from Kafirs, much more so than in times of
actual peace; still every post the postmaster comes to me for escorts.
To-day I blew him up and called him an ass. The panic with which the
people were seized here will not wear off for years. Had twenty Kafirs
shown themselves in the neighbourhood of Grahamstown a day or two
before my arrival, all would have either run away or shot one another.
What amuses me much just now, is that those who funked the most
formerly are the most valiant now that the danger is dispelled.

In two months I will, with God’s blessing, be with my dear old wife
to talk over my labours, which Heaven knows have been heavy enough. I
have gained credit for two things—one, licking the Kafirs; another,
blowing up the lazy idle rascals who will neither work, fight, nor do
anything but draw rations.

So you are a schoolmistress? Mind teach the young ones to sew and
work. It will do them more good than to read and write.

Love to all, and the sum total of all my love, affection, regard,
esteem, everything that is dear, to you, _alma mia_.

Enrique.

5 o’clock, 27 Feb.

When once I am in the field, I will work in my own way. _Master_ is
always floundering in the midst of information, whilst I like to take
a look at the ground, march, and take possession. Thank God, I have
been heretofore very lucky indeed. Do you recollect poor Thompson
saying, when the ants were swarming in the house, “Oh, sir, it is
great luck, great promotion for you somewhere”? It is very ridiculous,
but I often think of it.

I long to march, although I well see I shall have all the trouble of
war and marches without the all-stirring spirit of War. Ah, Venus and
Mars! Enough of the latter. I begin to think a quiet life of Darby and
Joan very agreeable. The fact is, it is better fun to be _together_ as
heretofore: only this is such a _naked_ country. At Genadendal there
was one pair of breeks between three boys, but here neither boys nor
girls nor women have breeks or sarks either.

I have been writing all day, still it is with much delight I keep on
writing to you, _alma mia_....

God bless my dearest virtuous wife.
Enrique.

Grahamstown, 6th March, 1835.

Thank God, my dearest old woman, you are well.... To-morrow the troops
commence their march upon the base of our future operations between
Fort Willshire and the Block Drift or the line of the Chumie, which
runs into the Keiskamma near the Fort. I went up there last Saturday
and had a beautiful ride of three days, doing everything I had to
do and returning a day and a half sooner than I was expected. It is
really wonderful how I bear work. I spread my karosse and lie down
with my saddle-bags under my head, and after thanking my God and
blessing my dear old woman, am asleep _in a moment_. The bivouac we
are going to is really one of the most beautiful things I ever saw,
and, thanks to the late rains, the grass everywhere is up to the
horses’ fetlocks. To-morrow I start with my escort—my corps of Guides,
my led horses, my interpreters, my secretaries. How you would laugh to
see such a motley group!

So I am to take care they do not shoot at me from the Bush? That story
about old Jem[256] and me was founded on very little truth. In the
middle of my Fish River fight, just as Jem was cooking some coffee and
I was writing, when we were surrounded by soldiers, three shots were
fired _at the whole_. I certainly jumped up and rattled the impudent
rascals “out of that” pretty quick; but, old girl, I am too much of
a Rifleman to be caught napping without every precaution of war. But
they do put such trash in the papers occasionally, it is quite amusing.

Camp near Fort Willshire, 12th March.

I wish you could see me, because then, you know, I could see you.
It is very delightful to unbend and not act always the great man,
although I assure you we laugh in camp sometimes famously. I almost
kill Hallifax at some of my roar-outs to the soldiers. Yesterday
morning, just before daylight in Fort Willshire, I desired his bugler
to blow the “rouse,” which you well remember. He said he did not know
it. “D—— you, sir, blow something.” So he blew up a _quadrille_, and
I began to dance. I thought Hallifax would have laughed till he died.
What a burlesque upon our school of war!

Grahamstown, 16th March, 1835.

When I came flying down from Fort Willshire the other day it was, as
you may suppose, for the purpose of inducing my master to get under
weigh and not to mind a Kafir and a half, which Col. Somerset’s
_arrangements_ with nearly 3000 men were going to catch. Master and
I very nearly fell out. In his string of operations in last week’s
paper, signed by Kitty Dutton, my attack on the enemy’s position was
left out. After some little jaw, he said he thought it too bold a
thing to attempt with the force under my command, so I bristled up
and said, “Rely upon it, whenever I hear of a Kafir, so soon will I
be at him with whatever force I can collect. This is the way to treat
so contemptible an enemy, although too much caution cannot be adopted
to prevent a surprise, or too much activity used in following up any
advantage obtained. This, sir, is my maxim, and one which shall guide
me throughout the campaign.” “Oh, it is a very proper feeling, but
_discretion_ is also to be observed.”

I have at last spurred him into a move, and I hope we shall get on and
bring things to a close, for I am really tired of this slow work. I
want to be at Charlie’s Hope again.

17th March.

The 72nd Regiment marched yesterday for the camp at Fort Willshire,
and the whole of the troops will be in motion, I hope, to-morrow to
concentrate. Sir Benjamin has given out a General Order appointing me
to command the 1st Division.

1st Division: 100 of the Cape Corps, 40 Corps of Guides, two
6-pounders, 300 Swellendam Burghers, the whole of the 72nd Regiment,
the 1st Provisional Battalion of Hottentots, 430 strong. Officered by
H. Peddie.

2nd Division, 2 guns, 750 Burghers, 200 Cape Corps, Lieut.-Col.
Somerset.

3rd Division: 250 Burghers, 50 Cape Corps, two 3-pounders, 2nd
Provisional Battalion, 374 strong (an excellent body of men), Major
Cox.

4th Division: 500 Burghers, Field Commandant Van Wyk. The troops will
thus advance—

Left. Left-Centre. Centre. Right.
Van Wyk. Major Cox. Me myself and Col. Somerset.
Sir Slow as far
as he goes.

Lieut.-Col. England is to command the ordinary Frontier Posts and
Grahamstown and has 1800 men, just 100 more than I had when I took
the command here, re-established villages and posts which had been
so shamefully abandoned, and invaded Kafirland with 450 men, so that
I think the 2nd line may be considered safe and no necessity for any
panic. But really it is astonishing to see how they funk.

His Excellency has just sent for me, good old man, to say he is not
pleased with his General Order of yesterday appointing me to the
command of the Division. He says it cramps my power, so he has put
in orders that I am to be second in command, continuing my duties as
Chief of the Staff, by which means I can order everybody about like
himself. It also gives old Peddie a command, which I am very glad of.

18th March.

In this stupid little room in which I am writing, I think rather too
much of an old faithful woman at Charlie’s Hope, but as I hope soon
to lick Tyalie, I hope soon to be with her. But my hair has grown
grey. I think, if it progresses as heretofore, I shall have a white
top altogether. Not quite so bad as that either! But it is grey. Oh,
I should like at this moment to ride into the dear little square! I
can hear your voice when I left you on the 1st January, as plainly
as possible. Do you recollect the glove in the hackney coach in
London?[257] And so it will be again, _alma mia_!

20th March, 8 o’clock.

Don’t be jealous, but my landlady has just sent me a present of half
a dozen of champagne and two stone bottles of curaçoa, rather a treat
to me the latter. The former I will astonish somebody or other with in
the bivouac. Fine campaigning this, is it not?

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.

12. It has been with much reluctance that I have entered into this
review of the errors which you seem to me to have committed, but I
have thought it due to your position and to your high reputation to
show that Her Majesty’s servants have not determined to advise the
Queen to supersede you in the midst of the war without sufficient
cause for doing so; and for this reason, painful as it has been to
me to write to you in such a tone of censure, I have been compelled
to point out the errors into which you have been betrayed. It is,
however, some satisfaction to me to be able to add, that I have no
doubt it has been your judgment only which has been in fault, and
that, to the best of your ability, you have endeavoured to acquit
yourself of duties of no ordinary difficulty; nor do I doubt that in
more regular warfare against a civilized enemy, and if your military
operations had been less complicated by political difficulties, you
would have achieved the same success by which you had formerly been so
much distinguished.

I am, &c.
(Signed) Grey.

Lieut.-General Sir H. G. Smith, Bart.

B. _Memoranda to serve as Data in meeting the accusations brought
forward in Earl Grey’s Despatch of the 14th January, 1852._[277]

Camp Blinkwater, 12th March, 1852.

1. I am not aware that the not bringing a war to a speedy conclusion
with inadequate means is a proof of incompetency in a General, nor
even when his means and those opposed to him are nearly balanced. It
rather argues the strength and prowess of the enemy. History affords
many instances of long and protracted wars, conducted by men of
consummate ability, who constantly had occasion to report the result
of glorious and sanguinary victories which, however immediately
successful, did not do more than merely _lead_ to the conclusion of
the contest. I have had to contend with, I may say, an invisible
enemy, hardly ever to be met with in an assailable position. In
other wars to which I allude officers of rank may have fallen, but
their fall, however greatly to be deplored, was not considered of
importance in connection with the conduct of the campaign. The loss
of Lieut.-Colonel Fordyce I much regret. He showed himself with
his telescope outside the bush and was picked off by some skilful
Hottentot—a chance which might happen to any soldier. The other
officers who rushed to aid him fell under similar circumstances. I am
at a loss to understand how casualties of this description can attach
culpability to the General. If every General Officer were removed from
his command because his career was not a continued current of success,
not one would retain it. In the instance immediately in question
I assert that the troops were eminently successful, their success
enabling me to carry operations into a distant part of the country,
the important result of which best speaks for itself.

2. Earl Grey attaches blame to me for not having given the necessary
“vigour and judgment” to my military operations, or to the “political
measures bearing upon the war.” A reference to my detailed
instructions to the officers in command of the constant patrols
will, I think, sufficiently show that the movements of the troops
have been carefully watched over and well directed. I am not aware
that it is the duty of a Governor and Commander-in-Chief to _head_
patrols. On one critical occasion, when a vigorous personal example
was required, when it was necessary to show that I was regardless of
the sudden and extensive desertion in the Cape Corps, I hesitated
not for a moment to take the field in person, in direct command of a
large patrol; and by some rapid and completely successful movements
not only restored full confidence throughout the army, but in all
probability arrested the further spread of disaffection. But although
this energetic and decided step upon my part was at the moment called
for, and although in former days as Colonel Smith I led patrols
under the late Sir Benjamin D’Urban and gained some reputation as a
bush fighter, my position as Governor and Commander-in-Chief and the
interests of Her Majesty’s service directed me to place myself at some
central point, from which the general movements of the troops could
be best controlled and the duties of the Civil Government equally
administered. Neither of them were ever delayed a single day. For
this purpose no position could be so advantageous as King William’s
Town—the base of general operations, the very focus of all movements.

3. Earl Grey states that I have failed in using with effect the force
at my disposal. I have some experience in war, and I assert that no
body of Her Majesty’s troops was ever more energetically applied
under more appalling circumstances of difficulty; and none were ever
more successful. And although the troops have been so unceasingly
and energetically employed, they have suffered no privation, so
well have I cared for their provision; while at the same time so
rigid has been the economy I have observed and enforced, that many
thousands of pounds have been saved to my country. The comments of
Earl Grey on my not having done as much with the force placed under
my command as might have been done, would be very natural if such
were in point of fact the case. But it appears to me His Lordship
has not drawn this inference from my voluminous and explanatory
despatches, nor borne in mind the dates of arrival of reinforcements;
but has reached this conclusion through the medium of irritable
disappointment, the flippant statements of indirect correspondence,
and the garbled statements of the opposition newspapers. I will
therefore analyse the mode in which these reinforcements reached me
and their respective dates of arrival. It is perfectly correct that I
never asked for troops until the war was far advanced and had assumed
a much more formidable appearance than was originally anticipated. I
then recommended that two Regiments of Infantry should be sent out
in addition to those already arrived or on their passage. These had
been already ordered, the 43rd Light Infantry being one, the 1st
Battalion Rifle Brigade the other. I always reasoned that, as Lord
Grey had so repeatedly and peremptorily directed a reduction of the
force at the Cape, he would see the necessity, if he desired to retain
British Kaffraria, of at once sending reinforcements. My reasoning
was correct. I also relied upon a general turn out of the frontier
population, and neither I nor any other man anticipated a Hottentot
Rebellion.

On the 25th April, 1851, drafts for Regiments, amounting to 300 men,
reached the Cape in the _Singapore_, Peninsular and Oriental Company’s
steamer. I landed them at the mouth of Buffalo. On the 12th of May,
the 74th Regiment reached the Cape, after a passage of 58 days in
H.M. Steamer _Vulcan_. I landed it at Algoa Bay, so as to move on the
interior line of defence. On the 8th August the 2nd Queen’s arrived,
a period of 86 days having elapsed since they were ordered for
embarkation, a delay which caused me great disappointment. I landed
them at the mouth of the Buffalo, having been compelled to detach
Lieut.-Colonel Eyre and the majority of the 73rd to within the Colony
for the defence of Lower Albany and Graham’s Town, a service which he
most effectually performed.

On the 29th July I received authority to send to the Mauritius for
the Reserve Battalion 12th Regiment. Commodore Wyvill, with his usual
energy, placed H.M.S.S. _Hermes_, under that most energetic officer,
Captain Fishbourne, at my disposal. She sailed from Simon’s Bay on the
24th July, touched at the mouth of the Buffalo, received my orders to
proceed to the Mauritius, and on the 27th August, with the greatest
expedition, landed as I directed the whole Regiment at Algoa Bay, so
as again to reinforce the interior line of defence.

On the 29th August, 200 drafts for Regiments arrived from England.

On the 19 Sept. the 60th arrived, after a very tedious passage of
66 days in H.M. steamers _Retribution_ and _Sidon_; and were landed
at the Buffalo. At the same time a detachment of the 12th Lancers
arrived after a passage of 76 days in the _Berkshire_ Transport. The
head quarters and remainder of the 12th Lancers did not arrive until
the 4th Oct., after a very slow passage of 91 days. The horses for
the Regiment were in readiness at King William’s Town. The whole of
the troops were in the field on the arrival of the 60th, which Corps
also marched in three or four days, that is, as soon as they were able
after their long voyage. I am not aware that any delay occurred in
the application of these reinforcements, which were, on the contrary,
employed in the most energetic manner; and, as results prove, with
military judgment. Yet before their services could be well felt, Earl
Grey relieved me from my command, because Lieut.-Colonel Fordyce, a
very gallant officer, placed himself, to look through his telescope,
within shot of a paltry ambuscade of Hottentots.

After I had invaded Kreili’s country, the 43rd Light Infantry arrived.
They were sent immediately into the field as an escort of provisions
to Forts White and Cox by way of initiation; and on their return were
at once moved on the Kei in reserve and support.

It was intimated to me that the 1st Battalion Rifle Brigade would,
as one of the Regiments I had asked for, be immediately sent out. So
great, however, had been the delay, that I wrote to Earl Grey saying
that our successes against the enemy were such, that if this Corps had
not left England I did not then require it. A few days before I was
relieved it reached the Cape after a passage of _eighty-four days_. I
ordered it to Algoa Bay, thence to the Blinkwater, to preserve that
country, which I had just cleared, from any reoccupation by the enemy.
This was the only service I had for it; and as it had not arrived two
months previously as I had expected, I deeply regretted its having
left England. In the then state of affairs it was not required. I
appeal to every General Officer in H.M. Army if more could have been
done, and I turn to my own local experience, and cast aside the theory
of abstract and disappointed expectations.

4. With respect to my “political measures bearing upon the war,” my
conviction is that my central position at King William’s Town—the best
in a _military_ point of view—enabled me effectually, by personal
care and supervision, to preserve the neutrality of the formidable
T’Slambie tribes, who, had I been absent, would assuredly have joined
in the revolt. No man was ever surrounded by greater embarrassments;
but in the midst of them I preserved my position.

5. Earl Grey alludes to the state of my health. It is assuredly not so
good as it was twenty years ago; a half-century of unremitting service
in every quarter of the globe must naturally have made some inroads,
but no measure of government, civil or military, has ever, from this
or any other cause, remained neglected for one moment.

6. Adverting to Earl Grey’s remark as to the premature reduction of
the force, in which he confesses to participate in the blame (if there
be any), I must observe that he most emphatically urged the measure
upon me, desiring my reasons for delay in the event of my not carrying
it into effect. I could more honestly, at the moment, reduce the force
than give reasons for not doing so. I am now censured for having _met
the views of Her Majesty’s Government_.

7. Previously to the outbreak, I undoubtedly sent continued assurances
to Earl Grey that no real danger existed. I believed what was brought
before me by the officers directly associated with the Kafirs. I could
myself see nothing on the part of the people indicative of a hostile
feeling. If I have been deceived, Europe in the present age affords
various and similar examples. Upon the first outbreak of the war,
I was certainly ignorant of its real character. No one apprehended
the rebellion of the treacherous Hottentots. And had the burgher
population turned out, as I had every reason and right to expect, it
would have never taken place, and the Kafir rebellion would have been
quelled at the outset. Opinions after results are easily and may be
decidedly given.

8. As to the supply of firearms and ammunition, and the want of energy
imputed to myself and to the Secretary to Government in suppressing
their introduction, a reference to my despatches will show that all
that was possible was effected.

9. Earl Grey proceeds to regard as a most fatal error my having failed
to deal more promptly with treason on the part of the Hottentots.
My position at the time referred to was one, I believe, of as great
difficulty as man was ever placed in. The _whole_ Hottentot population
at that period had been taught they were an “oppressed and an ill-used
race,” and that the precepts of Holy Writ tolerated their seeking
redress by arms. Some thousands of them were in my camp, with a
few hundreds only of British soldiers; while General Somerset was
surrounded by Hottentots. When evidence was forthcoming, I proceeded
to military trial. But I must advisedly assert that had I, at that
period, executed the condemned, the torch of revolt would have blazed
throughout the Colony. I am regardless of an opinion to the contrary
advanced by any man. I assert as an undoubted fact that by my course
of proceeding I weathered a storm which would otherwise have burst
over me with irresistible fury; that the exercise of sound discretion
in this instance saved the Colony; and that a contrary course would
have ruined it. To strengthen this assertion, I desire to remark
that a few weeks only have elapsed since the legislature of this
Colony was deterred from passing an ordinance for the prevention of
“squatting” on Government lands, a very general impression prevailing
that the Hottentot population would arise to resist it. In the course
of enquiry facts will show the difficulty of my position, and bear me
out in my line of proceeding; in the correctness of which I rejoice,
and shall do so to the latest period of my existence, reflecting that
sound judgment saved the colony. The white inhabitants were very
naturally excited by the treachery of their Hottentot servants, and
jump to the conclusion that hanging a few would have been a sovereign
panacea. I know as much of the Hottentot character as most men; and
the contrary, I say, would have been the effect.

10. Earl Grey regards it as a grievous error that I have not removed
Major Warden. I honestly admit that that officer might have done
better; I had, however, no one to replace him; and he acted zealously
and to the best of his abilities. He is very popular with every
well-disposed and loyal Dutchman. His Lordship proceeds to remark that
by this and other mistakes (a somewhat comprehensive application of
censure) I have failed to conciliate the Dutch inhabitants. I need
not scruple to say that for many years I was most popular with them.
Perhaps my too anxious desire to serve both those within the Colony
and beyond the Orange River has been an error. Their not having turned
out, as they pretended they were desirous to do, is attributable to no
proceeding of mine; and if honesty of purpose and kindness of manner
fail to conciliate, I am as irresponsible for the effect as incapable
of seeking the good will of any one by other means. Earl Grey
observes that Mr. Pine has succeeded in conciliating many of the Dutch
inhabitants of Natal. The Lieut.-Governor acted upon my precedent and
by my advice; and has repeatedly declared his perfect concurrence in
the policy which I originated, which has led to the present contented
condition of the Natal Boers.

11. In his concluding paragraph, Earl Grey states that he has entered
into a review of the errors which it seems to him I have committed,
regarding it due to my position and to my high reputation to show that
Her Majesty’s servants have not determined to advise the Queen to
supersede me in the midst of these errors without sufficient cause.
I have served my Sovereign and my Country, as few soldiers have had
the good fortune to have the opportunity of doing, for nearly fifty
years. During that long service I have never, until now, received
the slightest censure. The difficulties which have surrounded me at
the Cape of Good Hope have been unparalleled. Earl Grey might have
awaited the result of operations which I apprized him were in progress
and which have been attended with eminent success. However much it
may appear to his Lordship that I have failed in using vigour and
judgment, facts will speak for themselves; and exonerate a General
from the stigma of deserving the greatest indignity with which he can
be visited—removal from the command of a victorious army devoted to
their Queen and Country and serving in the highest spirits and with
every confidence in their veteran Commander.

_True copy of recorded Memoranda._

John Garvock, Lieut.-Col.
Late Priv. Sec.

APPENDIX VIII.

Sir Harry Smith’s Paternal and Maternal Ancestry.

FOOTNOTES

[1] See Appendix vi.

[2] Sir Harry’s original narrative is not broken into chapters.

[3] The Peninsular dates are generally borrowed from _A British
Rifleman_ (Major Simmons’ diary).

[4] Sir Harry’s ordinary signature was “H. G. Smith.” His letters to
his wife were commonly signed “Enrique”; to members of his family,
“Harry Smith”; to his friend and interpreter for the Kafir language,
Mr. Theophilus Shepstone, “Inkosi” (“Chief”). He addressed Mr.
Shepstone as “My dear Sumtseu” (“Hunter”).

[5] The birthplace of Sir Harry Smith in St. Mary’s Street, Whittlesey,
is now called “Aliwal House.” In his MS. he left the year of his birth
vacant, and it would appear that he was uncertain of his own age (cp.
p. 73). This may account for the date of his birth having been often
given wrongly as 1788. The east end of the south aisle of St. Mary’s
church was at this time partitioned off and used as a schoolroom, the
vicar or curate teaching. It was here that Harry Smith received his
education from the Rev. George Burgess, then curate, who survived to
welcome him in Whittlesey in 1847 on his return after the battle of
Aliwal. This part of the church, having been restored in 1862 as a
memorial to him, is now known as “Sir Harry’s Chapel.”

Harry Smith’s father, John Smith (son of Wakelyn Smith), surgeon, born
1756, died 2 Sept. 1843, married in 1781 Eleanor (born 1760, died 12
Dec. 1813), daughter of the Rev. George Moore, M.A. (Queens’ College,
Cambridge), vicar of St. Mary and St. Andrew, Whittlesey, and minor
canon of Peterborough Cathedral. They had in all fourteen children,
but only eleven survived infancy, viz. 1, Mary Anne; 2, John Stona;
3, Eleanor Moore; 4, Elizabeth; 5, Henry George Wakelyn (b. 28 June,
1787); 6, Jane Alice (Mrs. Sargant), b. 1789; 7, William; 8, Thomas
Lawrence (b. 25 Feb. 1792); 9, Anna Maria; 10, Charles (b. 10 Aug.
1795); 11, Samuel.

Mrs. Sargant, Harry Smith’s favourite sister, resided for many years in
Clapton Square, and died in 1869. She was the author of _Joan of Arc_,
_a Play_, _Charlie Burton_ (a tale, translated into French and German),
and many other works.

Thomas Lawrence (frequently mentioned in this book) received his
commission in the 95th (Rifle Brigade) on 3 March, 1808, and took part
in the actions of Sir John Moore’s expedition to the battle of Corunna.
Like his brother Harry, he served with the Light Division throughout
the Peninsular War to the battle of Toulouse, being dangerously
wounded at the Coa. He was recommended for promotion for his conduct
at Waterloo. He proceeded with his regiment to Paris, and riding as
Adjutant at the head of the 2nd Battalion, was the first British
officer who entered the city on 7 July, 1815. He went on half-pay in
1817. In 1824 he was appointed Barrack-master, in which capacity he
served in Ireland till 1838, when he was transferred to Chatham. On
the formation of Aldershot Camp in 1855, he was appointed Principal
Barrack-master there, and held his appointment till 1868. On retirement
he was made a C.B. and granted a special pension. He died in London on
6 April, 1877, and was buried in the cemetery, Aldershot.

Charles was present as a “Volunteer” with the 1st Battalion 95th at
Quatrebras and Waterloo, after which he received a commission as
Second Lieutenant. Two or three years later he retired from the army
and settled at Whittlesey. He became J.P. and D.L. for Cambridgeshire,
and Lieut.-Colonel of the Yeomanry Cavalry of the county, and died at
Whittlesey on 24 Dec. 1854.

Further information about Sir Harry Smith’s family was given to Mr.
Arthur M. Smith, at his request, for his book _The Smiths of Exeter_,
and will there be found, although, in the opinion of the present
editor, no connexion between the two families can be established. See
also p. 794 _inf._

[6] In consequence of a representation made to the Government by
Colonel Coote Manningham and Lieut.-Colonel the Hon. William Stewart,
an “experimental Corps of Riflemen” was formed early in 1800, with
Manningham as colonel and Stewart one of the lieut.-colonels. It was
actually organized by Stewart. On the 25th of December, 1802, the corps
was ordered to be numbered as the 95th Regiment. In 1803 they were
brigaded with the 43rd and 52nd as part of Sir John Moore’s Camp of
Instruction at Shorncliffe. The 2nd Battalion was formed on the 6th of
May, 1805, according to Cope, and joined the 1st Battalion at Brabourn
Lees, near Ashford, in June (see Cope’s _History of the Rifle Brigade_,
p. 1, etc.).

[7] For his diary of the voyage, etc., see Appendix I.

[8] The following extracts from Hughes and Clark’s _Life of Adam
Sedgwick_ (i. p. 76, etc.) refer to this time—

“Sedgwick went on December 17, 1804, to spend Christmas with Ainger
at his father’s house at Whittlesea.... He never forgot the simple
pleasures which he there enjoyed.... It was on this occasion that he
made the acquaintance of Henry Smith, son to the surgeon of Whittlesea,
then a boy of sixteen. Sedgwick watched his career with affectionate
interest.

“In 1807 he wrote to Ainger—

“‘Pray has Henry Smith escaped the fate which many of our brave
countrymen have met in Egypt? I believe his Regiment was in the
expedition.’

“W. Ainger replies—

“‘Whittlesea, August 3, 1807.

“‘Henry Smith, after whom you inquired, did not go into Egypt, but to
Buenos Ayres. His father had a letter from him after the engagement.
His Captain was killed by his side in the outset; the command of the
Company then of course devolved to Henry, who, I believe, acquitted
himself very creditably, and did not, to use his own expression, get
a single scratch. Last week brought his friends another letter from
Monte Video, which acquainted them that he was then (in April) just
recovering from the attack of a fever, which appears, Sedgwick, to have
been not less formidable than yours was. He says he has lost all his
flesh; but I find he retains all his spirit.’”

[9] _I.e._ the English spring.

[10] Cope says he could find no particulars of this affair of the 7th
of June beyond the mention of it and the casualties. Pack’s own report
of the affair, however (with Whitelock’s covering despatch), is given
under his name in Philippart’s _Royal Military Calendar_ (1820). It is
interesting to compare that account with the one in the text, as each
has some details not in the other. It seems that the Spaniards, two
thousand in number, were under Major-General Elio (see p. 79, below),
and the name of their position was San Pedro.

[11] See his reference to this time, p. 159.

[12] The author, writing many years after the events described, does
not discriminate the titles borne at different dates by his revered
commander, but speaks of him as “the Duke,” even from the time he was
Sir Arthur Wellesley. At the risk of offending the historical sense
of some readers, I have made no attempt to remove such a harmless
anachronism.

[13] Cp. E. Costello, _Adventures of a Soldier_, p. 36: “For bread
we took the corn from the fields, and, having no proper means of
winnowing and grinding it, were obliged, as a substitute, to rub out
the ears between our hands and then pound them between stones to make
it into dough, such as it was. From this latter wretched practice,
we christened the place ‘Dough Boy Hill,’ a name by which it is well
remembered by the men of our Division.” Cp. p. 321, below.

[14] Cp. Cope, p. 55: “Why Craufurd did not use his guns or let loose
the Riflemen at the French infantry, seems inexplicable.”

[15] Elder brother of Sir Henry Havelock. See p. 297.

[16] George Simmons writes in his diary for the 17th of September,
1810: “I removed to Pedroso for the convenience of sea-bathing, my
thigh being much better, which enabled me, with crutches, to move
about. Lieutenant Harry Smith was also with me. I found great benefit
from the sea-bathing.” Sir Harry Smith, writing to Major George Simmons
on the 16th of June, 1846 (soon after the battle of Aliwal, when he had
driven the Sikhs into the Sutlej), refers to their bathing together at
this time, though he says at Belem, not at Pedroso (both places are
close to Lisbon): “Dear George,—We little thought at Bellam [Belem],
when hopping about there, I should become a master of that art we were
both ‘girning’ under, or a swimming master for pupils in the Sutledge!”

[17] Simmons states in his diary that the Commandant was Major Murphy
(not Ironmonger), and writes that at the end of the second day’s
march “another one hundred _heroes_ had disappeared, which made our
Commandant raving mad. Smith called upon me to assist him in a medical
capacity. I had a bucket of spring water thrown upon him, which did
him good; he had several fits, but this put an end to them” (p. 111).
According to the Army Lists, Major Barnaby Murphy, 88th Regiment, was
killed at Salamanca, July, 1812. Lieut.-Colonel W. Iremonger, 2nd Foot,
retired 2 May, 1811 (? 12 May). There is no Ironmonger in the Army
List. The garrison of Almeida escaped on 11 May, 1811. In his despatch
of 15 May, 1811, Wellington censures a Lieutenant-Colonel (name not
given), but it is for “imprudence,” not cowardice.

[18] Cp. Kincaid, _Random Shots_, pp. 101, 102.

[19] He was at Lisbon from 3 Dec. to 4 Feb., when he returned to his
Regiment with Colonel Beckwith (_A British Rifleman_, pp. 124, 135).

[20] Cope says Major John Stewart was killed in this fight near Casal
Nova, and Lieut. Strode mortally wounded (14 March).

[21] The duties of a Major of Brigade are given in a letter of Sir
W. Gomm, Sept. 19, 1808: “The pay and rank are the same as those of
Aide-de-camp. The officer has the rank of Major during the time he
holds the employment, and he is not considered as generally belonging
to the General’s family so much as the Aide-de-camp. The situation is
more independent” (Carr-Gomm’s _Life of Sir W. Gomm_, 1881, p. 106).

[22] See p. 34.

[23] Colonel Rowan (from 1848 Sir Charles Rowan, K.C.B.) was Chief
Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police Force from its institution in
1829 till 1850. He died in 1852.

[24] Costello (p. 140) tells how, after the taking of Fort San
Francisco, many of the French wounded prisoners were stripped naked by
the Portuguese Caçadores. One of them, a sergeant, on being marched in,
and seeing his officer in the same plight with himself, “ran to embrace
him, and, leaning his head on his shoulder, burst into tears over
their mutual misery. Captain Smith, the General’s aide-de-camp, being
present, generously pulled forth his pocket-handkerchief and wrapped it
round the sergeant’s totally naked person, till further covering could
be obtained.”

[25] There is an interesting account of this heroic soldier in the
_United Service Journal_ for 1837, Part I. p. 354, by J. K. (John
Kincaid), written after Johnstone’s death at the Cape.

[26] Not till 24 March (Napier, iv. 105).

[27] _Random Shots by a Rifleman_, by Sir John Kincaid, pp. 292-296.
I venture to quote the rest of Kincaid’s interesting passage: “Thrown
upon each other’s acquaintance in a manner so interesting, it is not
to be wondered at that she and I conceived a friendship for each
other, which has proved as lasting as our lives—a friendship which was
cemented by after-circumstances so singularly romantic that imagination
may scarcely picture them! The friendship of man is one thing—the
friendship of woman another; and those only who have been on the
theatre of fierce warfare, and knowing that such a being was on the
spot, watching with earnest and increasing solicitude over his safety
alike with those most dear to her, can fully appreciate the additional
value which it gives to one’s existence.

“About a year after we became acquainted, I remember that our Battalion
was one day moving down to battle, and had occasion to pass by the lone
country-house in which she had been lodged. The situation was so near
to the outposts, and a battle certain, I concluded that she must ere
then have been removed to a place of greater security, and, big with
the thought of coming events, I scarcely even looked at it as we rolled
along, but just as I had passed the door, I found my hand suddenly
grasped in hers. She gave it a gentle pressure, and, without uttering a
word, had rushed back into the house again, almost before I could see
to whom I was indebted for a kindness so unexpected and so gratifying.

“My mind had, the moment before, been sternly occupied in calculating
the difference which it makes in a man’s future prospects—his killing
or being killed, when ‘a change came o’er the spirit of the dream,’ and
throughout the remainder of that long and trying day I felt a lightness
of heart and buoyancy of spirit which, in such a situation, was no less
new than delightful.

“I never until then felt so forcibly the beautiful description of
Fitz-James’s expression of feeling, after his leave-taking of Ellen,
under somewhat similar circumstances—

“‘And after oft the knight would say,
That not when prize of festal day
Was dealt him by the brightest fair
That e’er wore jewel in her hair,
So highly did his bosom swell
As at that simple, mute, farewell.’”

[28] From the time of their first residence at the Cape in the
thirties, Juana Smith conformed to the Church of England, and was in
consequence disowned by her remaining Spanish relatives.

[29] He was really twenty-four, but he seems never to have known his
own age. His wife (born 27 March, 1798) was just past fourteen.

[30] Her relations are numerous. She was in three sieges of her
native city: in one her wounded brother died in her arms. She was
educated in a convent, and is a lineal descendant of Ponce de Leon,
the Knight of Romance, and certainly she, as a female, inherits all
his heroism. Her name, Juana Maria de Los Dolores de Leon, at once
gives the idea of Hidalgo consanguinity, and she is of one of the
oldest of the notoriously old _Spanish_, not Moorish, families. After
Talavera, when the Duke’s headquarters were at Badajos, and my wife
was a child, Colonel Campbell and Lord Fitzroy Somerset were billeted
in her sister’s house. That was in the palmy days of their affluence,
when they derived a considerable income from their olive groves. These,
alas! were all cut down by the unsparing hand of the French, and the
sisters’ income seriously reduced. An olive tree requires great care
and cultivation, nor does it bear well until twenty or thirty years
old.—H.G.S.

[31] _Vide_ Duke’s letter, Nov. 23, 1812, to Lord Liverpool, in his
Grace’s letter to Marshal Beresford, Oct. 31, “You see what a scrape we
have been in, and how well we have got out of it.”—H.G.S.

[32] Cope, p. 141.

[33]

“Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light.
Shall be in rearward of the fight,
And succour those that need it most.”

_Marmion_, VI. xxiv.

[34] At the battles of the Pyrenees.

[35] See pp. 129, 130.

[36] Sir R. D. Henegan writes thus of Col. Skerrett, in describing the
defence of Tarifa: “The commanding-officer of this expedition, although
unimpeachable in the courageous bearing of a soldier, was wanting
in the bold decision which, in military practice, must often take
the lead of science and established rules.”—Henegan’s _Seven Years’
Campaigning_ (1846), vol. i. p. 234. Colonel T. Bunbury, _Reminiscences
of a Veteran_, i. p. 116, gives a similar account: “Skerrett as an
individual was brave to rashness; but I should have doubted it had I
not so frequently witnessed proofs of his cool intrepidity and contempt
of danger. At the head of troops, he was the most undecided, timid, and
vacillating creature I ever met with.”

[37] Cope’s account of Cadoux’s death (pp. 149, 150), derived, he
tells us, from Colonel Thomas Smith, is rather different. According
to this, Skerrett sent to desire Cadoux to evacuate his post. Cadoux
refused, saying that he could hold it. At 2 a.m. the French made a
rush, but Cadoux, by his fire from the bridge-house, kept the head of
the advancing column in check. Skerrett now peremptorily ordered Cadoux
to leave the bridge-house. Cadoux could only comply, but remarked
that “but few of his party would reach the camp.” And as a matter of
fact every officer present was either killed or wounded (Cadoux being
killed), besides 11 sergeants and 48 rank and file out of a total
strength of 100 men. Until the party left the bridge-house, Cadoux
had not lost a man except the double sentries on the bridge, who were
killed in the rush made by the French. Accordingly, while Harry Smith
in the text blames Skerrett for leaving Cadoux in an almost impossible
position without support, Thomas Smith’s charge against Skerrett is
that he recalled Cadoux when he was well able to hold his own.

[38] In the _Recollections of Rifleman Harris_ (1848), we have an
account of Cadoux which tallies closely with that of the text: “I
remember there was an officer named, I think, Cardo, with the Rifles.
He was a great beau; but although rather effeminate and ladylike in
manners, so much so as to be remarked by the whole Regiment at that
time, yet he was found to be a most gallant officer when we were
engaged with the enemy in the field. He was killed whilst fighting
bravely in the Pyrenees, and amongst other jewellery he wore, he had a
ring on his finger worth one hundred and fifty guineas.”

[39] Kincaid (_Random Shots_, p. 273) tells the story at second hand
with his usual _esprit_.

[40] Cope writes _Arrhune_. The Duke’s Despatches have _Rhune_.

[41] St. Pé, Nov. 13, 1813. No. 847.

[42] Cope’s account (p. 155) represents Barnard as falling wounded in
the attack on the redoubt described in the text below. But he seems
here to have read George Simmons’s rather carelessly. Though Simmons,
in his Journal for Nov. 10, says Barnard was wounded “towards the end
of this day’s fighting” (p. 321), in his letter of Dec. 7, he makes it
clear that it was before the final attack on the redoubt; in fact, as
Barnard was “reconnoitring how to move to the best advantage” (p. 326).
There is no discrepancy between this and the text above.

[43] It is difficult to reconcile this story with that told by Colonel
Gawler (quoted by Leeke, _Lord Seaton’s Regiment at Waterloo_, vol.
ii. p. 365). Speaking of the check received by Colborne and the 52nd
in their advance on the redoubt, he goes on: “At this moment an
interesting episode occurred. Baron Alten, seeing from the lower ridge
the desperate nature of the effort, endeavoured to send an order to
prevent further attempts. It was confided to the Brigade-Major, Harry
Smith. Trusting to the shifting character of the mark of a horseman
in motion, he tried the desperate venture; but it was impossible; no
single living creature could reach the 52nd under the concentrated
fire from the forts. The horse was soon brought down, and Captain
Smith had to limit his triumph to carrying off his good and precious
English saddle, which he performed with his accustomed coolness, to the
amusement of observing friends and enemies.”

[44] Query, Lindsell? See W. Tomkinson, _Diary of a Cavalry Officer_
(1894), p. 195.

[45] So in the Duke’s despatch. But query, Barrouilhet? See Napier,
Bk. xxiii. ch. ii., and the plan in Sir H. E. Maxwell’s _Life of
Wellington_, i. p. 358.

[46] Query, Baring? The name Beyring seems not to occur in the Army
Lists of 1813, 1814.

[47] See Appendix II. The _hour_ of the death is not stated in the
letter.

[48] Charles, from 1819 5th Duke of Richmond, after the introduction
of the Catholic Emancipation Bill became a vigorous opponent of
Wellington. Though reckoned an ultra-Tory, he joined the Reform
Ministry in 1830, and afterwards supported Lord Melbourne. On the other
hand, in 1845-6 (after the date when the remarks in the text were
written), he was a leader of the opposition to corn-law abolition. He
died within a few days of Sir Harry Smith, on 21st October, 1860.

[49] According to G. Simmons’ diary (p. 340), this attack on the French
Cavalry took place on 16th March, two days before the advance of the
Division. Simmons says the French captain “died soon after.”

[50] The 3rd Caçadores at this period were commanded by a fine gallant
soldier and a good fellow, but as he rejoiced in a name of unusual
length—Senhor Manuel Terçeira Caetano Pinto de Silvuica y Souza—we gave
him the much shorter appellation of “Jack Nasty Face,” for he was an
ugly dog, though a very good officer.—H.G.S.

[51] He was nearly twenty-seven. See p. 1 _n._

[52] Ross wrote, “So unexpected was our entry and capture of
Washington, and so confident was Madison of the defeat of our troops,
that he had prepared a supper for the expected conquerors; and when our
advanced party entered the President’s house, they found a table laid
with forty covers” (_Dictionary of National Biography_, “Ross”).

[53] The biblical account of Belshazzar’s feast (Daniel v.) does not
mention a storm. Sir H. Smith’s mental picture was no doubt derived
from engravings of Martin’s representation of the scene.

[54] “From Major-General Ross to Earl Bathurst.

“_Tonnant_ in the Patuxent, Aug. 30, 1814.

“Captain Smith, assistant adjutant-general to the troops, who will have
the honor to deliver this dispatch, I beg leave to recommend to your
lordship’s protection, as an officer of much merit and great promise,
and capable of affording any further information that may be requisite”
(Given in W. James’s _Military Occurrences of the Late War_ (1818), ii.
p. 498).

[55] Charles Cavendish Fulke Greville (1794-1865), Clerk to the Privy
Council from 1821; author of the _Greville Memoirs_; known to his
friends as Punch, or the Gruncher (_Dict. Nat. Biog._).

[56] See p. 158.

[57] Byron, _The Giaour_:

“Swift as the hurled on high jerreed,
Springs to the touch his startled steed.”

[58] See p. 209.

[59] Augustus Frederick (b. 1794), only son of Augustus Frederick,
Duke of Sussex (son of George III.), by his marriage with Lady Augusta
Murray. The two children of this marriage, when disinherited by the
Royal Marriage Act, took the name D’Este.

[60] Sir J. Lambert was always in the Guards, and prided himself
on being Adjutant of the Grenadier Guards, as his eldest son now
is.—H.G.S. (1844).

[61] _I.e._ make a scapegoat of.

[62] Colonel Mullins was blamed for not having the ladders and fascines
ready.

[63] Pluck?

[64] After that attack I have always been of opinion that General Keane
should have occupied the narrow neck of land behind the deep ditch
which ran across from the river to the morass, and was afterwards (but
then not at all) so strongly fortified by the enemy. I admit there
were many, very many objections, but I still maintain there were more
important reasons for its occupation, since our Army had been shoved
into such a position, for, to begin from the beginning, it ought never
to have gone there.—H.G.S.

[65] “From Major-General Lambert to Earl Bathurst.

“His Majesty’s Ship _Tonnant_, off Chandeleur’s Island,
“January 28, 1815.

“Major Smith, of the 95th Regiment, now acting as Military Secretary,
is so well known for his zeal and talents, that I can with great
truth say that I think he possesses every qualification to render him
hereafter one of the brightest ornaments of his profession.”

[66] Cope’s order of events (p. 192) is as follows: Disembarcation of
troops on Ile Dauphine, Feb. 8; surrender of Fort Bowyer, Feb. 11;
arrival of news of the preliminaries of peace, Feb. 14. According to
the text, the disembarcation on Ile Dauphine would appear to have
followed the peace-news. There is no inconsistency, however. Only one
Brigade (the 4th, 21st, and 44th Regiments) was employed in reducing
Fort Bowyer. This Brigade disembarked on Ile Dauphine after the capture
of the Fort, the rest of the army having disembarked previously.

[67] They were separated for a great part of a year during the Kafir
War, 1835. Perhaps he is thinking especially of separation by sea.

[68] “During the Peninsular War, and how long before I know not, it was
very occasionally permitted to young men who had difficulty in getting
a commission, with the consent of the commanding officer, to join some
regiment on service before the enemy. In action the Volunteer acted as
a private soldier, carrying his musket and wearing his cross-belts like
any other man. After a campaign or two, or after having distinguished
himself at the storming of some town or fortress, he would probably
obtain a commission. He messed with the officers of the company to
which he was attached. His dress was the same as that of an officer,
except that, instead of wings or epaulettes, he wore shoulder-straps of
silver or gold, to confine the cross-belts.”—W. Leeke, _Lord Seaton’s
Regiment at Waterloo_ (1866), vol. i. p. 6.

[69] See p. 151.

[70] See p. 80.

[71] The Regiment of Orange Nassau held Smohain and La Haye, and part
of the second Regiment of Nassau the farm of Papelotte.

[72] See p. 155.

[73] In 1833, Major G. Gawler, of the 52nd, published _The Crisis of
Waterloo_, in which he claimed for his regiment the honour of having by
their flank-attack defeated the Imperial Guards in their last charge,
an honour generally given to the Guards. His contention was supported
by Rev. W. Leeke in _Lord Seaton’s Regiment at Waterloo_ (1866).

[74] There was one case at least: John Luard, Lieutenant, 16th Light
Dragoons, and George Luard, Captain, 18th Hussars.

[75] The MS. is in Harry Smith’s hand, and the wording is probably his.

[76] See p. 259.

[77] See Appendix II., pp. 708, 709.

[78] Battle of Denain, 24 July, 1712. Denain is only about five miles
from Cambray. Marlborough was removed from the command of the armies
of the Grand Alliance by the intrigues of Oxford and St. John in order
to force the allies into the peace of Utrecht. The withdrawal of the
British troops in the field a little later was immediately followed by
the first really serious defeat sustained by the allies in the central
field of the war since Marlborough had assumed the command; Villars
cutting up and annihilating an isolated force of 8000 men under the
Earl of Albemarle, who were holding a bridge across the Scheldt at
Denain to cover Eugene’s force besieging Landrécy. For the clearing
up of this passage (left incomplete in the MS.) I am indebted to my
colleague, Mr. H. W. Appleton, M.A.

[79] “Few good riders haggle at a ditch, but an abattis of trees, with
their trunks towards their friends, and their branches spread out
towards the foe, is a less manageable obstacle.”—H. Havelock, in his
account of his brother W. H. (Buist’s _Annals of India for 1848_).

[80] See p. 19, bottom.

[81] The 1st Battalion landed at Leith on 27th Sept. (Cope, p. 217.)

[82] See p. 166, bottom.

[83] Henry Havelock, writing to his old Captain, then Major-General
Smith, Oct. 3, 1840, refers perhaps to the events of this day. [Was
it April 2, 1820? See Cope, p. 220.] “I feel that it is time I ought
to be trying to ascend the ladder, if ever, for as the _Battle of
Glasgow Green_ was fought in 1820, I fear I must now be not very far
from forty-six.” It is perhaps not the least of Harry Smith’s services
to his country that he incited his subaltern, Henry Havelock, to make
a serious study of the science of his profession. Havelock writes
to him Sept. 5, 1840, as his “master,” and writes of him on Oct. 2,
1847 (after his appointment to the Governorship of the Cape): “When
I was a boy, he was one of the few people that ever took the trouble
to teach me anything; and while all the rest around me would have
persuaded me that English soldiering consisted in blackening and
whitening belts with patent varnish and pipe-clay, and getting every
kind of mercenary manœuvre, he pointed my mind to the nobler part of
our glorious profession. As a public man I shall ever acknowledge his
merits. He is an excellent soldier—one of the few now extant among
us who have set themselves to comprehend the higher portions of the
art. He has a natural talent for war, and it has been improved by the
constant reflection of years, and much experience. There is no species
of business which Harry Smith’s mental tact will not enable him to
grasp.”—Marshman’s _Memoirs of Sir H. Havelock_ (1867), pp. 66, 165.

[84] “Peterloo,” 16 August, 1819. It is amusing to contrast the
soldierly reference to an “affair of Yeomanry,” with Shelley’s _Masque
of Anarchy_, called forth by the same occurrence.

[85] “In 1819 and onwards for a few years, when the country was
supposed to be in danger from a rising of the “Radicals,” and there
was certainly a good deal of disaffection, Glasgow was the centre of
the agitation. In these circumstances it was resolved to re-embody
the “Glasgow Volunteer Sharpshooters,” a Corps which in 1808 had made
way for the “Local Militia.” This was accordingly done, the senior
surviving officer of the old corps, the well known Samuel Hunter, of
the “Glasgow Herald,” being appointed Lieut.-Colonel Commandant, and
Robert Douglas Alston, the Major. Colonel Hunter retired in 1822, and
Major Alston became Colonel.

Colonel Alston was a capital officer, and the regiment, in appearance,
discipline and drill, a very fine one. Some of the older citizens of
Glasgow must still remember the grand reviews on the green, in which
the Sharpshooters and Regulars took part under the command of Colonel
Smith, afterwards Sir H. Smith, the hero of Aliwal.”—_The Old Country
Houses of the Old Glasgow Gentry_, 2nd edit., p. 6.

[86] “By an order dated ‘Horse Guards, Feb. 16, 1816,’ the 95th
was removed from the regiments of the line, and styled _The Rifle
Brigade_.”—Cope, p. 214.

[87] He was now admitted to the Freedom of the City of Glasgow.

[88] Then the seat of Archibald Speirs, Esq. His family consisted
of five sons and nine daughters.—_The Old Country Houses of the Old
Glasgow Gentry_, 2nd edit. pp. 95, 96.

[89] I supply this name from Cope, p. 226.

[90] “Colonel Norcott feels himself bound by every principle of public
and private duty to express to Lieutenant-Colonel Smith and the
officers and battalion at large his most sincere and deep regret for
the loss of an officer who has served for twenty-two years with such
indefatigable zeal, distinguished bravery, and merit, and now retires
from its active duties on promotion and an appointment on the staff in
Jamaica, but to resume in that situation the same persevering devotion
to his profession, his king, and country.

“The Colonel knows how truly every officer in the Brigade participates
his feelings and sentiments, and is assured of the lively and warm
wishes of every non-commissioned officer and soldier for the welfare of
one who, with every attribute of as good and as gallant an officer as
ever lived, invariably united the most kind and peculiar interest for
the comfort and happiness of the soldier.

“At the particular request of this officer, it affords the Colonel
much pleasure to release from confinement to barracks, and punishments
of every description, all soldiers now under their sentences; he only
hopes, and is ready to believe, that they will prove sensible and
grateful for Colonel Smith’s kindness, shown up to the very last moment
he remains amongst them, in addition to every noble and honourable
feeling which all soldiers ought to show in the performance of their
duty and conduct on every occasion, by a determination to relinquish
every habit tending to injure the good of the service, their corps, and
individual respectability, comfort, happiness, and future welfare.

“A. Norcott, _Colonel_.

“Halifax, Nova Scotia, June 4, [? Jan.] 1827.”

[91] See p. 336.

[92] Algernon Frederick Greville (1798-1864), younger brother of the
author of the _Greville Memoirs_ (see p. 216), after being present as
an ensign at Quatre Bras and Waterloo, served as aide-de-camp during
the occupation of France, first to Sir John Lambert and afterwards
to the Duke of Wellington. When the Duke became Commander-in-Chief,
January, 1827, Greville became his private secretary and continued so
during the Duke’s premiership.

[93] See pp. 340 and 97, 98.

[94] For an interesting memorandum on the diet and treatment of
military prisoners, submitted by Harry Smith to Sir B. D’Urban in 1834,
see Appendix III.

[95] With this and the four following chapters, compare Appendix II.

[96] This disposes of part of H. Cloete’s dramatic story, which,
however, should be compared (_Great Boer Trek_, pp. 78, 79).

[97] The following characteristic story of Harry Smith about this time
is told by Mr. H. A. Bryden in _Temple Bar_, April, 1902. “In the Kafir
War, when irregular troops were much employed, odd scenes occasionally
happened. A corps of Grahamstown Volunteers was drawn up and paraded
before Colonel Smith, then Chief of the Staff. As he passed down the
ranks, one of the men touched his hat. ‘None of your d—d politeness in
the ranks, sir,’ was the response.”

[98] Cp. for this incident, and the whole history of the war, Sir J. E.
Alexander’s _Narrative of a Voyage, etc._ London, 1837.

[99] Given by Alexander, vol. ii. p. 14.

[100] Writing of this to his wife, on the 7th April, he says, “Well,
yesterday, alma mia, was the anniversary of that which led to our
blessed union, and, after my check at the natural fortress, which, by
Jupiter, was very strong—inaccessible, in short—I thought to myself,
‘Well, this day so and so many years ago, I had a good licking in
Badajos breaches, and the old Duke tried something else.’ So the blood
rushed into my heart again as gay as ever. ‘By G—d, I’ll have them out
yet.’ I had no information but my spyglass, and I made a _détour_, and
was lucky in hitting off the plan to approach.”

[101] Alexander, vol. ii. p. 99.

[102] The slaying of the ox on this occasion is also described by
Alexander, vol. ii. p. 132.

[103] Afterwards Sir Theophilus Shepstone.

[104] Alexander, vol ii. p. 147.

[105] The same speech is quoted by Alexander, vol. ii. p. 160.

[106] Alexander gives the river as Gnabacka. Schmidt’s map (1876) gives
it as Xnabeccana and Gnabecca.

[107] Mpako?

[108] Lord Glenelg.

[109] Alexander says “the Intabakandoda range” (vol. ii. p. 248).

[110] For Warden’s report of the conference, see Alexander, vol. ii. p.
335.

[111] These ants are most venomous—creep into the eyes, ears, etc.,
and cause a pain which no creature was ever known to bear without
lamentation; in all other punishments not even a sigh escapes them.—H.
G. S.

[112] See p. 441.

[113] Alexander, vol. ii. p. 222: “Nonubé, the mother of the young
Siwana of the T’Slambies, ... is the great widow of Dushani.”

[114] The author seems inadvertently to have omitted the rest of this
particular story.

[115] See p. 433.

[116] See Appendix V.

[117] So Alexander, vol. ii. pp. 134, 135: “A Highland piper was
ordered to play for Hintza’s amusement. Hintza was asked what he
thought of the music. He answered, that some of it reminded him of
his children at home and made him cry, and that he supposed that the
instrument had been invented by us out of regard for the General [Sir
B. D’Urban], to imitate his crying when he was a little boy, and to
remind him of the crying of his children.”

[118] Captain Andries Stockenstrom, afterwards Sir A. Stockenstrom,
Bart. Lord Glenelg’s dispatch was dated 26th Dec. 1835.

[119] Given above, p. 454.

[120] He succeeded Sir B. D’Urban, 22 Jan. 1838.

[121] With Chapters XL. to XLIV. compare the extracts from letters
given in Appendix VI.

[122] On this very day twelve months, this ship, the _David Scott_,
was burned in harbour in the Mauritius, having previously buried her
captain at sea on the voyage from Calcutta.—H. G. S.

[123] Colonel Harry Smith was appointed on 21st August, 1840, to the
rank of Major-General (in the East Indies only). Writing to his friend
Captain Payne, 72nd Highlanders, on 17th January, 1841, he says, “I get
on very well here with the public functionaries of all descriptions,
tho’ they are odd fellows to deal with. But I have very much learned to
restrain an impetuosity which never produces so favourable a result as
moderation, for, if right, it frequently makes you wrong.”

[124] Henry Thoby Prinsep, Member of Council at Calcutta, 1835-1843;
Member of the Court of Directors of the East India Company, 1850-1858;
Member of the Indian Council, 1858-1874. Died 1878.

[125] Elphinstone had commanded the 33rd Regiment during the years of
the occupation of France, 1815-1818.

[126] _I.e._ Nott.

[127] In Memorandum No. 1, dated “Simla, 7th August, 1842,” the policy
advocated is, “strike a decisive blow which will maintain our prestige
in India, and then abandon Afghanistan, which ought never to have been
entered.”

In Memorandum No. 2, dated “Simla, 29th August,” he states that his
policy has been adopted. But the method involved “A division of force;
an advance into the heart of the enemy’s country; the siege of two
cities with no positive means, one the venerated city of the Prophet,
Guznee, the other Cabool, the capital; a retreat; the destruction of
the base of these operations, Candahar.” The plan, therefore, involved
too many risks.

In Memorandum No. 3, dated “Simla, 7th September,” he says that the
evacuation of Candahar before Cabool and Guznee had been reduced was
contrary to all military science. “Nott’s column is now a single ship
in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean surrounded by hostile fleets.”
“The science of war dictates that as rapid a concentration as can
be effected of the forces of Nott and Pollock should be made to
Guznee—reduce it, hence to Cabool. Thus the union of force ensures
one of the primary objects in war—‘one line of operations, one base,
and a union of resources.’” “A kind of drawn battle with fluctuating
advantages is worse to the general cause than if no attempt whatever
had been made to ‘strike a blow.’” “Our force is on the verge of winter
in the prosecution of two sieges—having abandoned its base previously
to the reduction of either, and it has a fair probability of being
distressed for food and forage.” “Our present base Jellalabad is of the
most difficult and almost inaccessible character—and a whole country,
the Punjaub, between it and our natural frontier.” “If the enemy knew
how to apply his means, he would fall upon either Nott or Pollock.”

These Memoranda, marked “confidential,” were sent to a number of
Indian officers of high rank, civil and military, and their answers
(preserved) show a general acceptance of Harry Smith’s views. Among
them is the following letter from Henry Havelock and note from
Broadfoot to Havelock:—

“My dear General,

“I have the pleasure to return the Minutes which Broadfoot, the most
gallant and talented fellow that I met beyond the Indus, has read, as
you will see by the accompanying note.

“I too, though all unworthy to be mentioned in the same day, have
perused them, and agree with you in every point, excepting one or
two minor matters which those only who were in Afghanistan could be
correctly informed upon.

“I feel like a man worn out, which is perhaps not surprising after
having had my mind pretty much on the stretch for four years, but
will come and speak to you upon General Skelton’s affairs to-morrow
morning, by God’s help, and try to get a look at the charges.

“I thought Sir R. S[ale] would not go home. He is to blame, but
generally takes odd views of things and then is not easy to move. He
ought to make a personal fight for his pension.

“Ever yours very truly,
“H. Havelock.”

“My dear Havelock,

“The bearer will deliver to you General Smith’s minutes. I have read
them with much interest, and am much tempted to give you some of the
reflections they have given rise to, but if I began I should run into
a dissertation. Give the General my best thanks, and believe me,

“[G. Broadfoot] [Signature cut off].

“Major Havelock, C.B.”

[128] “_Dâk_: post, relays of palanquins or other carriages along a
road” (_Anglo-Indian Dictionary_).

[129] For 26 December, 1843.

[130] “The Governor-General, with the ladies of his camp, rode on
elephants beside the advancing columns” (Trotter, _India under
Victoria_, vol. i. p. 100).

[131] Lord Keane.

[132] Sir Charles Napier, writing to Harry Smith early in 1844, treats
humorously of the presence of Lady Gough, Juana Smith, etc., under fire
at this battle. “I congratulate you on your feats of arms. You had a
tough job of it: these Asiatics hit hard, methinks. How came all the
ladies to be in the fight? I suppose you all wanted to be gloriously
rid of your wives? Well, there is something in that; but I wonder the
women stand so atrocious an attempt. Poor things! I dare say they too
had their hopes. They talk of our immoral conduct in Scinde! I am sure
there never was any so bad as this. God forgive you all. Read your
Bible, and wear your laurels.”—W. Napier’s _Life of Sir Charles Napier_
(1857), vol. iii. p. 45.

[133] On Sir Harry Smith’s appointment to the command of the 1st
Division, his duties as Adjutant-General devolved upon Lieut.-Colonel
Barr.

[134] It will be noted that Sir Harry Smith, in spite of all that
followed, supports Sir H. Hardinge’s military judgment in the famous
dispute on this occasion between him and Sir H. Gough. A contrary view
is taken in Gough and Innes’ _The Sikhs_, etc., p. 107.

[135] General Avitabile, an Italian, had been employed by Runjeet Singh
in training his troops.

[136] Son of Lord Fitzroy Somerset, afterwards Lord Raglan, and
great-nephew of the Duke of Wellington, his mother (a daughter of Lord
Mornington) being the Duke’s niece.

[137] Sir Harry Smith’s capture of the village of Ferozeshah and his
retention of it during the night were vaguely referred to in Sir H.
Gough’s dispatch in these terms: “I now brought up Major-General Sir
Harry Smith’s Division, and he captured and long retained _another
point of the position_.” On this circumstance General Sir James Kempt,
in a letter to Sir Harry Smith dated “5th April, 1846,” makes the
following comment, which I give for what it may be worth:—

“Sir H. Gough does not in his public Dispatches of the action mention
your carrying the village of Ferozeshah, or allude to the difficulty
in which you were placed, and my _first_ impression was that he had
written the Dispatch before he received your Report. But as Gilbert in
his Report of the proceedings of his Division (which has been published
in India) says that after driving the enemy from their position
opposed to him, he was induced (from circumstances which he mentions)
to withdraw from the position they had so gallantly won and to take
up a position _under instructions_ 400 yards in the rear, where he
bivouacked for the night—_this_, and Littler having also withdrawn on
your left, fully accounts for the unprotected state in which you were
left after carrying the village. But Sir H. Gough could not mention you
in the way which your service deserved in the _public_ Dispatch without
telling the whole truth, and letting the public know how miserably the
thing was managed.”

[138] Colonel T. Bunbury writes of the battle of Ferozeshah: “Everybody
was so famished with hunger that Sir H. Smith, hearing that (one of our
officers had secured a lamb), sent to beg of us a mutton chop. But he
was too late. The sheep had been slaughtered, cooked, and devoured.”
(_Reminiscences of a Veteran_, iii. p. 289).

The same story is told in a letter of a private soldier, dated “January
5th, 1846” (printed in the _Cambridge Chronicle_, 25th April, 1846):
“The Governor-General, the Commander-in-Chief, the General of Division,
the A.D.C., and the whole of the staff—with this one exception, they
rode and we marched—fared the same as ourselves—without food, without
water.” The same writer relates, “General Smith has command of the 1st
Division. He exposed himself very much, too much in fact, for when the
whole of the men were lying down to escape the shower of shot, the
gallant General remained on his horse in front of the line, exhorting
the men to lie still as they could not get up and live, and when they
charged the guns, he led them in truly gallant style. His escape was
truly miraculous.” “The gallant General Smith has just passed—he looks
somewhat thinner, and no wonder, for he has a very busy time of it. I
hope to God he will come off unscathed, and may he receive the reward
of his services from his sovereign.”

[139] Before sending the dispatch given in the next chapter, Sir Harry
wrote in pencil from the field of battle the following short note to
the Commander-in-Chief:—

“Bank of the Sutlej, 28th January.

“Hearing the enemy had received a reinforcement yesterday of twelve
guns, and 4000 men last night, I moved my troops at daylight this
morning to attack. I think I have taken every gun he had and driven him
from the river. My guns are now battering him from the opposite bank.
He came out to fight me. I expect fifty guns are on the field at least.
My loss I hope not great. The Cavalry charged several times, both black
and white, like soldiers, and infantry vied with each other in bravery.
To the God of victory we are all indebted. God bless you, dear Sir
Hugh. My staff all right. Mackeson and Cunningham, of the Political
Department, bore heavily on some villages. The enemy required all I
could do with such brave fellows to teach him to swim.

“H. G. Smith,
“Major-General.”

[140] Not received by the Secret Committee.

[141] Eleven guns since ascertained to be sunk in the river, total
sixty-seven; thirty odd jingalls fell into our hands.

[142] He wrote these lines in September, 1846.

[143] No one but those who have encountered it, can be aware of the
difficulty there is in disposing of the stores and captured guns of
your enemy. I had 52 to move, and most of their own draught animals had
been killed in action or shot by the victors. The country yields no
resources in aid, thus I had to use the transport of my own 32 guns to
send on to Loodiana 47 of the enemy’s, and this delayed my return to
Headquarters three days.—H. G. S.

[144] A trooper in the 16th Lancers, named Eaton, writing on 2nd Feb.,
1846, of the battle of Aliwal, says, “As soon as the Commander-in-Chief
received the dispatches, which he did on horseback while reconnoitring,
he leaped from his horse and gave three cheers, a salute of eighteen
guns was fired, and the line gave three hearty cheers for us, their
gallant comrades, as they called us.” The same writer gives a very
characteristic picture of Sir Harry Smith: “The General told us that
when our regiment was in Lahore in 1837, the King thought us all
gentlemen, but had he seen us on that day, he would have proclaimed us
all devils, ‘for you charged their ranks more like them than anything
else.’ As he left us we saw tears in the poor old man’s eyes, and he
said, ‘God bless you, my brave boys; I love you.’”—See _Cambridge
Independent Press_, 4th April, 1846.

Of the above letter Professor Sedgwick wrote, “Excepting Harry Smith’s
dispatch, which nothing can reach, it is one of the most soul-stirring
letters that has come from India.”—_Life of Sedgwick_, ii. p. 102.

[145] Prince Waldemar of Prussia, travelling as Count Ravensburg, was
present with his suite at the battles of Moodkee, Ferozeshah, Aliwal,
and Sobraon.

[146] His aide-de-camp, now General Sir Edward A. Holdich, K.C.B.

[147] A coloured print of the 31st Regiment at Sobraon was published
afterwards by Ackermann. There is also a large engraving, “The
triumphal reception of the Seikh guns” (at Calcutta), after W. Taylor,
in which Sir Harry Smith is a prominent figure.

[148] The following extract from a letter from Lieut.-Col. Bellers,
who believes himself to be the only officer now surviving who served
in the 50th during the Sikh War (during the greater part of which he
was Adjutant), shows that the admiration expressed by Sir Harry for the
50th regiment was fully reciprocated. “With us Sir Harry Smith was ever
most popular, I may say, beloved: a strict disciplinarian, but never
exacting more than was necessary. His figure on ‘Aliwal’ with his cloak
on in front of our Division is well in my memory.”

Mr. B. Genn of Ely, who served in India in the 15th Hussars in 1846
under Sir Harry, gives us the _soldiers’_ view of him. “He was about
the most popular man in the army. He always had something jocose to
say. He would gammon us by complimenting us in comparison with some
other regiment—then we should hear from the men of the other regiment
that he had complimented them in the same manner. He would stroll round
the tents, and there would be a cry, ‘Sir Harry Smith’s coming!’ Then
he would call out, ‘Trumpeter, order a round of grog; and not too much
water: what I call “fixed bayonets”!’”

[149] The official dispatches not till March 26th.

[150] Kincaid, in his generous enthusiasm, wrote a letter signed
“Veteran” to the _Times_ of March 30th, to acquaint the public with his
friend’s past services and military character. Speaking of Peninsular
days, he writes, “Those only who have served under a good and an
indifferent staff officer can estimate the immense value of the former,
and Smith was one of the very best, for his heart and soul were in his
duty. His light wiry frame rendered him insensible to fatigue, and,
no matter what battle or march might have occupied the day or night,
or what elementary war might be raging, Smith was never to be found
off his horse, until he saw every man in his brigade housed, if cover
could possibly be had. His devotion to their comforts was repaid by
their affection.... No one who knew Harry Smith (his familiar name) in
those days could doubt for a moment that whenever he acquired the rank,
and the opportunity offered, he would show himself a General worthy of
his illustrious preceptor.... The battle of Aliwal speaks for itself,
as the dispatch of Sir H. Smith would alone proclaim that he had been
trained under Sir John Moore and finished under the master-mind of
Wellington.”

[151] Sir James, writing to Sir Harry Smith himself on 5th April, said,
“I well knew that you only wanted an opportunity to display the great
military qualities which I knew you possessed in no common degree....
Most nobly did you perform your part and show how a battle ought to be
fought when the troops are commanded by a skilful and brave General who
feels himself ‘at home’ in the thickest of the fight, and who knows how
to handle them, and how to make use of each arm at the proper time as
an auxiliary to the other. The Great Duke in his speech in the House of
Lords makes _you_ the Hero of the day.... On the day that thanks were
voted to you in Parliament, I invited Barnard, Johnny Kincaid, Rowan,
Alex. McDonald, and other of your old friends and comrades to dine with
me, and we drank a bumper to your health and that of Lady Smith.”

[152] Compare an extract from the journal of Sir C. Napier (_Life of
Sir C. Napier_, iii. p. 398): “[Hardinge’s] army is for discipline the
worst I have seen.... There were no picquets or patrols, not even when
close to and in sight of the enemy! I am told, however, that Harry
Smith’s Division was an honourable exception.” And another from the
same journal, dated “July 9” (p. 434): “Harry Smith is a good-hearted,
brave fellow, and it gladdens me that he has been rewarded, for he
was the only man that acted with any science and skill as a general
officer.”

[153] Written, as Sir Edward Holdich tells me, on the battlefield on
the night of the battle, and hardly altered afterwards.

[154] W. M. Thackeray, _Book of Snobs_: “Military Snobs.”

[155] Professor Sedgwick wrote similarly, “I do not believe the old
Duke ever spoke so much praise in the course of his life before, and
all he said was from the heart” (_Life of Sedgwick_, ii. p. 102).

[156] See p. 329.

[157] Sir Robert Peel, in a letter of 21st April, requesting Sir
Harry’s acceptance of a copy of his speeches of April 2nd, added, “Sir
Robert Peel trusts that the special reference in the Gazette and the
Patent for conferring a Baronetcy on Sir Henry Smith to the name of
Aliwal (unusual in the case of a Baronetcy) will be acceptable to the
feelings of Sir Henry Smith.”

[158] See p. 33. The letter has been printed by Col. Verner in _A
British Rifleman_ (George Simmons’ diaries).

[159] See p. 331.

[160] Charles Beckwith, so often mentioned in the first volume, lost a
leg at Waterloo. During his time of suffering he underwent a religious
conversion. “I was carried away by the love of glory, but a good God
said to me, ‘Stop, rascal!’ and He cut off my leg; and now I think I
shall be the happier for it.” Through casually opening a book in the
Duke of Wellington’s library, he became interested in the Vaudois
or Waldensian Protestants, and from 1827 onwards spent a great part
of his life among them as a father or apostle. He died in 1862 (see
_Dictionary of National Biography_).

[161] Sir Harry passed Gen. Beckwith’s letter on to Col. W. Havelock,
the “Young Varmint” of the Light Division (destined to die a soldier’s
death at Ramnuggur two years later), and received a characteristic
letter of acknowledgment of the “treat” it had given to “yours
affectionately, Old Will.”

[162] Lord Malmesbury wrote in his diary for May 8th, “Dined with the
Eglintons. General Sir Harry Smith was the great lion of the evening.
He is a little old man, very clever-looking. She is a Spanish woman,
and has been very handsome” (see _Memoirs of an Ex-minister_).

[163] The Peninsular Medal had just been granted.

[164] For his early friendship with Harry Smith, see p. 5, _n._

[165] On the opposite page is given a facsimile of the handbill issued
for the occasion.

[166] Dean Peacock, who presided, referred to the character he had
received of Sir Harry from Sir John Herschel, as one not only valiant
in the field, but able to conciliate a foe and turn the enemies of the
British Empire into its friends.

[167] _Life of Sedgwick_ (Clark and Hughes), vol. ii. p. 124. The
_Illustrated London News_ of 10th July, 1847, has an illustration
representing Sir Harry passing the house of his birth.

[168] Then commanded by his “third Waterloo brother,” Captain Charles
Smith, with whom Sir Harry stayed during his visit.

[169] See p. 158.

[170] During his Whittlesey visit an address was presented to Sir Harry
at Thorney, on behalf of the inhabitants of that village.

[171] The Whittlesey troop of Yeomanry Cavalry, under the command of
Captain Charles Smith, formed the guard of honour at the Installation.

[172] A letter from the Rev. Canon Charles Evans tells us of an
incident which took place _within_ the Senate House. “I was present in
the Senate House and stationed close to the platform on which Sir Harry
was conversing with the Duke of Wellington, as we were waiting for the
arrival of the Queen and Prince Albert, from whom I was to have the
honour of receiving the Senior Chancellor’s Medal. The undergraduates
were loudly cheering the Duke, when laying his hand on Sir Harry’s
shoulder, he said, ‘No, no, this is the man you ought to cheer; here
is the hero of the day.’ Sir Harry Smith burst into tears and said, ‘I
little thought I should live to hear such kind words as these from my
old chief.’ I distinctly heard every word.”

[173] _Life of Sedgwick_, ii. pp. 125-127 and 573.

[174] Told me by General Sir Edward Holdich, who sailed with Sir Harry
as his aide-de-camp.

[175] Theal’s _History of South Africa_, iv. p. 308.

[176] Mrs. Ward, _Five Years in Kaffirland_.

[177] After the abandonment of the Province of Queen Adelaide, King
William’s Town had been deserted. Mrs. Ward, early in 1847 (p. 147),
speaks of “the ruins of what had once promised to be a flourishing
town.” “The walls of Sir Harry Smith’s abode are still standing.” Sir
Harry now ordered Colonel Mackinnon to cause it to be laid out in
squares and streets on both sides the Buffalo. He also established in
British Kaffraria a chain of forts, and four military villages called
Juanasburg, Woburn, Auckland, and Ely.

[178] Theal, iv. p. 311.

[179] The choice of this date shows Sir Harry’s pleasure in restoring
all his old arrangements. It was the date of the great meeting of
chiefs in 1836 (see pp. 437, 438, and Appendix V.), and it was then
arranged that on every 7th January there should be a similar meeting.

[180] Theal, iv. p. 315.

[181] On his way he stayed from January 12th to 14th at Shiloh, and
then selected a site for a town at the junction of the Klipplaats
and Ox Kraal Rivers to which he gave the name of his native place,
Whittlesea.

[182] Theal, iv. p. 421.

[183] Ibid., iv. p. 422.

[184] Theal, iv. p. 427.

[185] The question was submitted to a Committee of Privy Council,
whose report was approved on 13th July, 1850. They gave it as their
opinion that to abandon a sovereignty virtually assumed by Sir P.
Maitland in 1845 and proclaimed by Sir H. Smith in 1848 would be
productive of more evil than good. But they add sentences which read
strangely in these changed times. “We cannot pass from this part of
the subject without submitting for your Majesty’s consideration our
opinion that very serious dangers are inseparable from the recent, and
still more from any future, extension of your Majesty’s dominions in
Southern Africa. That policy has enlarged, and, if pursued further,
may indefinitely enlarge, the demands on the revenue and the military
force of this kingdom with a view to objects of no perceptible
national importance, and to the hindrance of other objects in which
the welfare of the nation at large is deeply involved.... Unless some
decisive method can be taken to prevent further advances in the same
direction, it will be impossible to assign any limit to the growth of
these unprofitable acquisitions, or to the extent and number of the
burdensome obligations inseparable from them. In humbly advising that
the Orange River Sovereignty should be added to the dominions of your
Majesty’s crown, we think ourselves therefore bound to qualify that
recommendation by the further advice that all officers, who represent,
or who may hereafter represent, your Majesty in Southern Africa,
should be interdicted, in terms as explicit as can be employed, and
under sanctions as grave as can be devised, from making any addition,
whether permanent or provisional, of any territory however small to
the existing dominions of your Majesty in the African Continent, and
from doing any act, or using any language, conveying, or which could
reasonably be construed to convey, any promise or pledge of that
nature. And we are further of opinion that the proposed interdict
should be published in the most formal manner in your Majesty’s name;
that so, in the contingency of any future disregard of it by your
Majesty’s officers, your Majesty may be able to overrule any such
act, or to disappoint any such promise of theirs, without risking the
imputation of any breach of the public faith.”

[186] J. Noble, _South Africa_ (1877), p. 126.

[187] “The Governor—likened to a thunderbolt in presence of an
enemy—acted with characteristic promptitude.”—Noble, p. 132.

[188] Called in Sir Harry Smith’s dispatch “Kroom Alem Boh,” by Theal
“Kromme-Elleboog.”

[189] “Up to this moment he was confident that no European in South
Africa would point a weapon against his person. In this confidence he
had dressed himself that morning in blue jacket, white cord trousers,
and drab felt hat, the same clothing which he had worn when he met Mr.
Pretorius in the emigrant camp on the Tugela seven months before. He
was exceedingly anxious to avoid a collision.”—Theal, iv. p. 437.

[190] A picture of the sharp skirmish of Boomplaats (from a drawing
by the late Lieut.-Col. Evelyn) appeared in the _Graphic_, 17th Feb.,
1900, with some comments by Major-General C. E. Webber.

[191] “It was remarkable how his Excellency came out unhurt, for from
the beginning to the end he was in the thickest of the fire.”—Noble, p.
135.

[192] It appeared afterwards that only nine Boers were killed.

[193] In connexion with this, I may quote a story told to my sister,
Miss Moore Smith of Durban, by the late Sir Theophilus Shepstone. “Sir
Harry always read part of the service on Sunday morning at Grahamstown
[? in 1835], and was so particular that all should come that he imposed
a fine of half a crown on every absentee. He read extremely well, and
was very proud of it. One Sunday a dog came into the room when service
was going on, and began to create a disturbance. Sir Harry stood it for
a little time, then in the middle of a prayer said suddenly, ‘Take that
d——d dog away,’ after which he continued his prayer in the same tone as
before.”

[194] The execution of Dreyer as a rebel was long bitterly resented by
the Boers.

[195] Here, or near here, on 12th May, 1849, the town of Aliwal North
was founded by Mr. Chase, the Civil Commissioner.—Wilmot and Chase, p.
417.

[196] Under Sir Henry Pottinger’s rule the Eastern Province had had an
able Lieutenant-Governor in Sir Henry Young, and there was a strong
feeling during Sir Harry’s governorship that the interests of the
Eastern Province could not be ensured by a government at Cape Town.
Sir Harry himself finally gave in to this view, and on 14th June,
1851, recommended “a separate and distinct government for the Eastern
Province.”

[197] In May and June, 1849, Sir Harry was seriously ill from a
carbuncle on his neck. On 20th June he gave a ball at Government
House, which many refused to attend owing to the agitation against the
Government. Sir Harry, with soldierly punctiliousness, appeared among
his guests for half an hour, but his appearance was so ghastly, and
made the more so by his dark green Rifle uniform, that it was said “one
might have imagined that he had just stepped out of his coffin.”

[198] Mr. W. A. Newman (_Memoir of J. Montagu_) quotes a reply made by
Sir Harry to the Anti-Convict Association on 18th June: “This is the
anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo. For four and forty years have
I served my sovereign—I say it with pride—and I would rather that God
Almighty should strike me dead than disobey the orders of Her Majesty’s
Government and thereby commit an act of open rebellion.”

[199] Chase writes (Wilmot and Chase, p. 458), “Sir Harry, perfect
soldier as he was, had an instinctive horror of shedding blood, which
was never more strongly developed than when he curbed the military from
retaliating the insults offered to Her Majesty and to themselves by
the mobs of the western metropolis during the anti-convict _émeute_.”
We may remember that he had shown the same spirit during the Radical
disturbances at Glasgow (see pp. 326-328, 335).

[200] In connexion, however, with the delays encountered in receiving
the new constitution, Lord Grey was much reviled both in the Colony and
in England. Sir W. Napier (_Life of C. Napier_, iv. p. 327) quotes the
following epigram:—

“This point was long disputed at the Cape,
What was the devil’s colour and his shape.
The Hottentots, of course, declared him white,
The Englishmen pronounced him black as night;
But now they split the difference and say
Beyond all question that Old Nick is Grey.”

[201] On the 20th December, Sutu, Sandilli’s mother, was made chief.

[202] Wilmot and Chase, _Annals of the Cape Colony_ (1869), p. 437.

[203] W. A. Newman’s _Memoir of J. Montagu_, 1855.

[204] A good deal might have been excused in a document issued under
such circumstances, but the word “exterminate” was not a happy one,
and was frequently seized on afterwards by opponents of Sir Harry in
England. How little it represented the writer’s real feeling is shown
by a sentence in a letter to his wife of 24th May, 1851: “I hope yet
to see all the ringleaders hung, while I would willingly _forgive_ the
poor wretches who have been led astray by the wickedness of others.”

[205] Consisting of the 6th, 73rd, 91st, and 45th Regiments.

[206] Dispatch to Lord Grey, 17th March, 1852.

[207] _Cape Town Mail_, April 5th and 8th, 1851.

[208]

“Horse Guards, 7th March, 1851.

“It appears to me that this insurrection of the Caffres is general and
quite unjustifiable, sudden, and treacherous.

“In my opinion Sir Henry Smith ought to have the means in Regular
Troops and Light Equipments of ordnance to form two bodies of troops,
each capable of acting independently in the field, each of which should
give countenance and support to the detachments of Boers, Hottentots,
and loyal Caffres, by which the rebel and insurgent Caffres should be
attacked and driven out of the country.

“The occupation of the numerous posts in the country marked Adelaide in
the map was very proper and necessary when the frontier was the Buffalo
River, but it would be much better to carry it to the Key and there
fix it permanently, and to form a place d’armes or fortified Barrack
for Troops somewhere about King William’s Town, between that and Fort
Wellington, or possibly a little to the westward near the sources of
the river.

“In such place d’armes there might be the means of giving cover to more
than the small body which might be required for the permanent garrison.”

[209] Lord Grey.

[210] Wilmot and Chase, p. 458.

[211] Cp. pp. 791 _bot._, 792. The _Cape Town Mail_ (some indication of
colonial feeling) protested both on the 25th January and on 5th April
against the military execution of rebels.

[212] The _Cape Town Mail_ of 9th Dec. 1851 wrote prophetically, “This
abandonment of a really flourishing and promising British colony would
be an Imperial calamity; but the full extent of the mischief would
not be understood until it became necessary, as in a few years it
certainly would be found, to reconquer the territory so dishonourably
and foolishly deserted;” and Chase in 1869 speaks of the “abandonment
of that splendid country, the Orange River Sovereignty, through a gross
ignorance and a disgraceful misstatement of its capabilities, and
permitting in its place the formation of the Free State Republic—one
of the most imprudent acts ever committed, involving the Colony in
entanglements, troubles, and cost, the end and consequence of which
cannot be predicted.”

[213] _Correspondence of Gen. Sir G. Cathcart_, p. 358.

[214] Lord John Russell stated that the dispatch had never been seen
by the Queen, and Lord Ellenborough, in a kind letter dated “Feb. 7,”
says, “What I am told is that Lord Grey recalled you, not without
asking the Duke’s opinion, but against it, after he had asked it.”

[215] Sir George Napier, himself an ex-Governor of the Cape, wrote in
April, 1852:—“Had the Duke of Wellington ever seen the ‘Cape bush,’
he would not have said what he did about making roads through it; the
thing is quite out of the question.... You may rely upon it that Sir
Harry Smith would never have delayed one day in making roads had it
been feasible.... As for Harry Smith, I am glad to see Lord Grey is
abused by everybody for the harsh unjust manner of his recall. In my
opinion the great mistake Smith made was in ever giving in to Lord
Grey’s folly of withdrawing a single soldier; and when the war did
break out, he should have at once acknowledged his error, and boldly
demanded reinforcements to the extent of 5000 troops at once. I still
hope he may be able to finish the war before his successor arrives, for
till lately he had not force to do more than he did.”—_Life of Sir W.
Napier_, ii. pp. 310-312.

[216] By the Sand River Convention signed on 17th January, 1852, by
the Assistant-Commissioners Major Hogg and Mr. Owen, and subsequently
ratified by General Cathcart, the Transvaal emigrant farmers had their
independence recognized, and being thus reconciled to us were detached
from the Boers within the Orange River Sovereignty, who now had no one
to look to but the British Government. The Convention was no doubt
politic on the assumption that the Sovereignty was to be resolutely
kept. When the Sovereignty was abandoned, it took a different
character. But for this Sir Harry Smith was not responsible.

[217] The supersession of the Governor at this crisis was no doubt a
main cause of the war’s being protracted, though in a less severe form,
for some months longer. See Mr. Brownlee’s report dated “Fort Cox, 4th
March, 1852.”

[218] _Correspondence of General Sir George Cathcart_ (1856), p. 36.

[219] _Cape Town Mail_, 20th April, 1852. Sir Harry’s departure from
King William’s Town in 1836 was strangely similar. See pp. 458, 459.

[220] See _Cape Town Mail_, April 17th and 20th, 1852.

[221] Wilmot and Chase, pp. 417, 459. With regard to Mr. Chase’s last
assertion, it is perhaps worth remarking that Sir Harry Smith reflected
the spirit of the Romantic School in his religious feelings as well as
in much else.

The weakness which Mr. Chase previously mentions is thus referred to in
the _Natal Witness_ (Jan. 1889): “It was a common habit with Sir Harry
Smith to threaten to jump down people’s throats,—boots, spurs, and all;
and he once on a field of battle sent a message, seasoned with some
fearful expletives, to a colonel that if he kept his regiment so much
to the front, he’d have him knee-haltered. But the fine old General
drew a line at swearing and never allowed of personal abuse.”

[222] _Portsmouth Times_, 5th June, 1852.

[223] Lord Grey fully appreciated Sir Harry’s chivalry. He writes,
“On a question of this kind we were not at liberty to consult our
private feelings. This was fully understood by Sir Harry Smith himself,
of whose most handsome and honourable conduct I cannot too strongly
express my sense. He has shown no resentment against us for what
we did, but has fairly given us credit for having been guided only
by considerations of public duty. I feel individually very deeply
indebted to him for the kindness with which he has acted towards
me since his return.”—_The Colonial Policy of Lord John Russell’s
Administration_ (1853), vol. ii. p. 247. Men will decide according to
their dispositions whether such conduct was “lowering” to Sir Harry or
not. It was at least part and parcel of his nature.

[224] _Portsmouth Times_, 11th Sept. 1852.

[225] _Life of Sir W. Napier_, vol. ii. p. 327.

[226] Martin’s _Life of the Prince Consort_, vol. iv. p. 37.

[227] Sir Harry felt a strong personal devotion to the Queen, and would
speak of her as “the most gracious lady in the whole world.”

[228] Henry Havelock’s elder brother, Will, as before stated, was
called in the Peninsula “Young Varmint” for “his keenness and daring in
the saddle and in every manly sport.” See account of W. H. by H. H. in
Buist’s _Annals of India for 1848_.

[229] See p. 33 _n._ It is characteristic of Sir Harry’s kindness of
nature that he now brought home from Lisbon some little presents for
the children of his aide-de-camp, Major Payne.

[230] See p. 184 _n._

[231] Cope, p. 451.

[232] Miss Alice E. Smith (daughter of Major Thomas Smith), now Mrs.
Lambert, was a great deal with her uncle and aunt from 1852 onwards.

[233] Cp. p. 657.

[234] Sir H. E. Maxwell’s _Life of Wellington_, vol. ii. pp. 361-364.

[235] _I.e._ the war then being waged in Italy.

[236] Tortona was laid waste in 1155 and 1163 by Frederick Barbarossa.

[237] _Glasgow Gazette_, 11th Feb. 1860.

[238] See p. 1 _n._

[239] Called by Lady Smith, “not _quite_, yet like my own Henrique!”

[240] The date should be 1787.

[241] The first twelve names represent the 12 clasps attached to Sir
Harry’s Peninsular medal; for Waterloo, Maharajpore, and South Africa
(1853) he had separate medals; the remaining three names are those of
his clasps for the Sutlej Campaign. He wore, besides, the Grand Cross
of the Bath and the Portuguese Order of St. Bento d’Aviz.

[242] See p. 653.

[243] In his last years the gallant old General would say that “he did
not care any longer to go to the club and meet _a lot of old fogies
whom he didn’t know_.”

[244] She died Jan. 10, 1902.

[245] _Cape Town Mail_, 5th April, 1851.

[246] I visited last year at Ely, Mr. B. Genn, late of the 15th
Hussars, who had served under him in India in 1846, and who had fired
over his grave. As soon as I had opened the door, a fine engraving of
Sir Harry greeted me. It had been bought at a sale. The old veteran
spoke of his commander always as the “dear old man.” When I asked him
if he thought him a good General, he fired up quickly, “Why, think of
the battle of Aliwal! Not a mistake anywhere.”

[247] The following characteristic story has been sent me by Major
J. F. Anderson, of Coxwell Lodge, Faringdon: “Sir Harry was very
quick-tempered, and on one occasion (during the Kafir War of 1835?),
when my father remonstrated with him as to an order he gave, he said,
‘Learn to obey, sir,’ and ordered him into his tent under arrest. In
the evening he sent to ask my father to dine with him!”

[248] In this and the following items, the story given above is
repeated.

[249] Afterwards married to Charles Smith.

[250] Vicar of St. Mary and St. Andrew, Whittlesey, and cousin to Harry
Smith’s mother.

[251] Query, 11th? See preceding letter.

[252] I possess this document only in the form of rough drafts. The
document as here printed is therefore to some extent a compilation. It
is clear that the Board of Officers were proposing a more stringent
treatment of prisoners than that which Harry Smith had adopted and
which they maintained was more lenient than was permitted by the Royal
Warrant.

[253] Col. W. Johnstone was then living at Cape Town. See p. 58.

[254] “My dearest wife!”

[255] His house at Rondebosch, near Cape Town.

[256] Major William Cox.

[257] See p. 212.

[258] _I.e._ tired of doing nothing.

[259] See p. 737.

[260] See p. 100.

[261] “Knife.”

[262] _I.e._ soldiers of the Rifle Brigade.

[263] _I.e._ brown, buckskin trousers (Munro, _Records of Service_, i.
205).

[264] “A little oil and a clove of garlic.”

[265] Alexander has a picture of this scene, with others of the war,
drawn by Major Michell, Surveyor-General.

[266] “Do you remember, poor child?”

[267] See p. 168.

[268] “Nonsense.”

[269] See p. 476, _sup._

[270] Hugh Smith, son of Harry Smith’s “Waterloo brother,” Thomas.

[271] Harry Smith, son of the “third Waterloo brother,” Charles.

[272] See pp. 673, 674.

[273] Edward Law, Lord Ellenborough, Lord Chief Justice of England.

[274] His youngest sister, Miss Anna Maria Smith.

[275] The Peninsular medal was granted in 1847.

[276] “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.”

[277] I am not aware what use, if any, Sir Harry made of these
“memoranda.”

INDEX.

Aboyne, Lord, 576

Achmuty, Col., 177, 710

Adalbert, Prince, of Prussia, 663

Adams, G. G., A.R.A., 684

Adour R., 166, 171

Afghanistan, war in, criticized, 472-479, 492, 493, 766-769

Africa, South, 359-468, 582-651, 715-765, 782-793

Agra, 483, 492, 769

Agueda R., 24, 48, 51, 56, 89;
French attacked at, 28, 29

Ahsin R., 486, 490

Aire, 170

Akalies, 499

Alameda, 24, 30, 89

Alava, Gen., 305;
his story of Wellington after Waterloo, 291

Albany, district of, 453, 454, 634

Albert, Prince, 562, 577, 655, 663, 664

Albert, district of, 587

Albuera, battle of, 50, 66, 278

Alcala, 79, 80, 92

Aldea de Ponte, 52

Alemtejo, the, 15, 47-50, 54

Alexander, Lieut.-Col. (R.H.A.), 541, 542

Algeo, Col., 132;
death of, 133

Algeria, 655

Algoa Bay, 369, 379, 605

Aliwal, battle of, 33 _n._, 535-549, 552, 554-556, 558-563, 568, 780, 781;
Aliwal dispatch, 536-543, 556, 557;
anniversaries of, 592, 593

“Aliwal,” horse, 551, 576, 657, 664, 771;
shot by Sir H. Smith, 673, 674

Aliwal North, 607 _n._, 651

Allahabad, 480

Allen, Col. (Guards), 67

Alligators, 253, 254

Almaraz, 19, 321

Almeida, 24, 30, 34, 47;
escape of French garrison from, 48

Alston, Major R. D. (Glasgow), 328 _n._

Alten, Gen., 79, 87, 100, 122, 142, 143, 147, 148 _n._, 163

Amatola Mountains, 619-645 (_passim_), 751

Amava, the, 745

American War, 191-254

Andrews (secretary), 727

Angelo, Major, 541

Anglesey, Marquis of, 655

Annapolis, 203, 204

Anta (Kafir chief), 619

Antelope-shooting at the Cape, 365, 366

Antonio (a boy goatherd), 116, 129, 130

Antree Pass, 485

Ants, sign of good luck, 721

Antwerp, 281, 283

Apsley House, 356

Arapiles, the, 84

Aravaca, 82

Arbonne, 152, 155

Arcangues, Château d’, 152, 154

Arganda, 79, 80

Arms of Sir Harry Smith, 771, 772, 564-566

Armstrong (murdered by Kafirs Ap. 1835), 750

Armstrong, Capt. (C.M.R.), 376

Armstrong, Fort, 623

Arragon R., crossing of, 109, 110

Arrhune. _See_ Rhune

Arronchas, 49

Arruda, 35, 36

Arzobispo, bridge of, 19

Asche (Asch), 266

Assuduco (Governor of the Havannah), 255

Atlantic, the, fishes and birds of, 692-695;
voyages across, 4, 12, 13, 193, 208, 226-228, 257, 338, 339, 344,
352-354, 691-696

Auchmuty, Gen. Sir Samuel, 4, 691

Auckland (South Africa), 588 _n._, 619

Auckland, Lord, 471-474

Autobiography, Sir H. Smith’s, 752, 775-777

Avitabile, Gen. (Sikh Army), 512-514, 534, 537, 540-542, 779

Ayliff, Mr. (missionary), 738

Badajos, 16, 20, 23, 75 _n._;
the storming of, 31, 62-73, 75, 275, 389 _n._

Bagot (Hottentot Battalion), 728

Bailie, Capt. John, 411, 414

Bailie, Lieut. C., 412, 420-422, 425

Baillie, Lieut. R. (72nd), 364, 365

Balfour, Lieut. Arthur L. (called “Paddy”), (72nd), 395, 398, 399, 406,
427, 720, 724, 727, 729, 735, 745, 750, 751, 758, 759

Baltimore, 203, 204, 206;
question of an attack on, 206, 207;
attack repulsed, 221

Balvaird, Major (95th), 299

Bandits, Battle of the, 21-23

Baranhara, 526-529

Barba del Puerco, 24

Barnard, Gen. Sir Andrew, 73, 112, 126, 127, 132, 163, 165-168, 174,
175, 333, 495, 556 _n._, 563, 569, 572, 686, 688, 715;
at Badajos, 63-66;
at Nivelle, 146, 147;
commandant of Cambray, 308, 314, 315;
letter to, 564;
death, 661

Barnard’s Vale and Ford, 757

Barnes, Sir E., 115, 302

Barney, Commodore (U.S.A.), 197

Barossa, 125, 480

Barr, Lieut.-Col., 491, 503 _n._

Barrouilhet, 154 _n._

Barwell, Major (9th), 515

Bashee R., 401, 402, 408-412

Basutos. _See_ Moshesh

Bath, 207, 217

Bath, Marquis of, 666, 667

Bathurst, 634

Bathurst, Lord, 207, 213-216;
dispatches to, 214 _n._, 247 _n._

Bavay, 287, 288

Baxter (? David), Staff Surgeon, 201

Baynes, Lieut. T. (39th), 254

Bayonne, 152, 153, 161

Beaufort, Duke of, 571

Beaufort, Fort, 376, 622, 634, 641, 727

Beaufort West, 598

Beauport (Sussex), 320

Beckwith, Lieut. Robert (95th), 20

Beckwith, Major (R.B.), 602

Beckwith, Major-Gen. Charles, 67, 87, 147, 148, 153, 172, 173, 297, 567,
662, 674, 675, 685, 688;
letters from, 568, 656, 659, 661, 665, 666, 667, 669

Beckwith, Mrs. Charles, 665, 666

Beckwith, Mrs. (sen.), 324, 325

Beckwith, Sir George, 324

Beckwith, Sir T. Sydney, 14, 15, 24, 31, 39, 40, 45, 49, 324, 715;
anecdotes of, 17, 35, 36, 38, 44, 46;
invalided by ague, 63

Belem, 33 _n._, 34, 48, 667

Belfast, 336-339

Bell, Gen. Sir John, 52, 53, 89, 225, 253, 350, 710, 360, 361, 455,
569, 572, 655, 665, 666, 674, 681, 685, 688, 742, 745;
anecdotes of, 177, 685

Bell, Lady Catherine, 360, 361, 655

Bere, Capt., 541

Beresford, Lieut. H. T. (71st), 743, 753

Beresford, Marshal, 96 _n._, 166, 175

Bergen Op Zoom, 128

Bermuda, island of, 194, 195

Berri, the Duke de, stag-hunting, 295-297

Bester, Paul, 598

Bethany, S. Africa, 604

Bethune (Mayor of Cambray), 315

Beyring, Col., 155

Bhoondree, 541, 542

Biaritz, 154

Bidassoa R., 112, 131;
fight at, 117-125

Biddulph, Lieut. (Hottentot Battalion), 420, 421

Biddulph, Mr. (Resident at Winburg), 597

Bingham, Lieut. R. C. (75th), 737

Birmingham, 322, 663

Bladensburg, 204;
battle of, 198-201;
night-march from, 201, 202

Blakeney (? Lieut.-Col. Edw.), 242

Blantyre, Lord, 330

Blinkwater Post, 641

Blinkwater stream, 630, 787, 790

Bloemfontein, 584, 591, 597, 604, 605, 606, 640, 644

Blucher, Marshal, 294;
accident to, 293

Boar-hunting, 21, 82

Boers, of Cape Colony, 373, 376, 383, 461, 462, 621, 626, 720, 723, 726,
727, 728, 729, 730, 732, 733, 750, 792;
migrations of, 463, 464, 583, 584, 592, 593;
across the Orange, 584, 590;
rebellion of, 596-608;
across the Vaal, 584, 644;
in Natal, 793.
_See_ Orange River Sovereignty

Boileau, Capt., 543

Boku (brother of Hintza), 396, 397, 585, 743, 746, 747, 749, 750, 753

Bolton, Brig. S., 505

Bombay, 501

Boomplaats, battle of, 601-604

Booth, Capt. W. (15th Hussars), 171

Bordeaux, 186, 216

Botha’s Drift, 598, 599

Bourlon, near Cambray, 300

Bowker, Joseph, army surgeon, 78

Bowker, Mr. T., 576

Bowyer, Fort, capture of, 248-251

Brabourne Lees, 3, 158

Bradford, Major, 538

Bradford, Major-Gen. Sir T., 327, 328, 330, 332

“Brass Mare,” the, 264, 302;
carries Juana Smith to Antwerp and back, 281-288

Bright, John, M.P., 661

Bringhurst, Major J. D., 709

Briton, Mr. (Harwich), 263, 264

Broadfoot, Major G., 477 _n._, 512

Brooke, Col. Francis, 53, 195, 199

Brotherwood, Serg., 62

Brown (a spy), 198;
saved by a ruse, 205, 215

Brown, Col. (85th), 199

Brownlee, Chas. (Civil Commissioner), 617, 645 _n._

Brownlee, Rev. J., 751

Brownrigg, David (surgeon), 39

Bruges, 264, 265

Bruintjes (cook), 726, 728, 740

Brunswick, Ferdinand, Prince of, 324

Brussels, 260, 266, 267, 281, 286, 287, 297

Buccleugh, Duke of, 331

Budhowal, Budowal, 526-538, 543;
encounter with Sikhs at, 529-532, 543-546, 556, 559, 561, 568

Buenos Ayres, 6;
disastrous attack on, 8-10, 237, 246, 247, 699

Buenos Ayres, near Lisbon, 33, 39

Buffalo, Poorts of the, 388, 389, 458, 625

Buffalo R., 418, 618, 731, 751, 754, 756, 757, 789

Buffeljaghts R., 371

Buller, Col. (R.B.), 602-604, 606

Bundelcund, 479, 493

Burgess, Rev. G., 1 _n._, 569

Burgher force, 376, 398, 720, 723, 732, 750

Burghersh, Lord, 666

Burgos, 79, 83, 94;
blown up by the French, 96

Burmese war expected, 472

Busseean, 504, 526, 527, 558

Butler, Col. (American), story of, 240-242

Butterworth, 391, 734, 737, 738

Cabool, 475, 476 _n._, 479, 766

Cadoux, Capt. D. (95th), killed at Vera, 121-125

Calais, 317

Calcavellos, 16, 17, 699

Calcutta, 355, 470, 480-482

Calder the Leper (a spy), 198, 205, 215

Caledon, 370

Calvert Fontein, 603

Cambray, army of occupation quartered round, 298-316;
last review, 310;
Harry Smith appointed Town Major of, 300;
coursing, 302-304

Cambridge, 577-579, 654, 700

Cambridge, Duke of, 655, 662, 669

Cambridgeshire Yeomanry Cavalry, 2 _n._, 576, 578

Cameron, Capt. Alister (95th), 31, 64

Campbell, Capt., 376

Campo Mayor, 20-22

Canary Islands, 692

Candahar, 476 _n._

Cape Castle, 54, 361, 362

Cape Colony, 359-468, 715-765;
Sir Harry’s Governorship, 582-651, 782-793;
horse-breeding and sport, 363-368;
fixing of frontier, 627 _n._, 732, 746, 753, 754;
annexations to, 629;
question of Representative Assembly, 609, 610, 613-616, 632, 650;
Convict question, 611-613, 630, 631, 650, 687

Cape Mounted Rifles, 374, 396, 398, 598, 601, 620, 719, 720, 723, 756;
defection in, 623-625, 635

Cape Town, 646;
Sir Harry Smith there, 360-372, 462-468, 585-586, 596 (cp. 591)-598,
608-617, 618, 647-649;
his treatment of military prisoners at, 715-717

Carbonada, 724, 725

Cargill, Lieut. (52nd), story of, 136

Carlton House, 213

Carpio, 47

Casal Nova, fight at, 43

Castello Branco, 50

Castello de Vidi, 20

Castel Sarrasin, 181, 183, 185

Castilleur (Casteleur), Château of, 152, 154, 162

Castlereagh, Lord, 301

Cathcart, Gen. the Hon. George, 637, 642, 644, 645, 646, 647, 648, 649,
783

Caucasus, 655

Cawnpore, 483, 497

Chalmers, Dr., 360

Charlie’s Hope (Col. H. Smith’s house at Rondebosch), 720, 723, 724,
725, 741

Charras, the, marriage and other customs of, 90, 91

Chesapeake, the, 194, 196, 208, 209

Chopo, 744

Chounda, 486

Christie, Capt., 518

Chumbul R., 483-485

Chumie R., 722

Churchill, Lieut.-Col. C. H. (31st), 675

Ciudad Rodrigo, 24, 39, 47, 48, 50-52, 61, 82-84, 89;
besieged by French, 28;
captured by them, 30;
stormed by the English, 55-68

Civilizing of Kafirs, 430-451, 580, 589, 616, 626, 631, 648, 739, 760, 765

Celerico, 30

Clarksbury, 750

Clausel, Marshal, 109, 111

Clavering, Gen. H. F., 193

Clerk, G. (Pol. Agent), 474, 478

Clichy, 292

Clyde, the, 336

Coa River, 48;
battle of the, 2 _n._, 30, 31, 65, 184

Cochrane, Adm. Sir A., 194, 197, 206

Cochrane, Lieut. T. (95th), 99

Cockburn, Adm., 197, 200

Codrington, Adm., 197, 238

Coghlan, Col. (61st), his funeral at Toulouse, 180

Colborne, Col. John. _See_ Seaton, Lord

Colchester, 14

Cole, Gen. Sir Lowry, 52-54, 66, 78, 131, 133, 134, 292;
Governorship of the Cape, 360, 362, 368, 717

Cole, Lady Frances, 361, 368

Colesberg, 597, 599

Colonia del Sacramento, 6-8

Colville, Sir Charles, 66, 276

Conception, Fort, blown up, 30

Condesia [Condeixa], 43

Considine (? Lieut. Jas., 13th Light Dragoons), 21

Constantine, Grand Duke of Russia, 310

Convalescent hospitals, 347

Convict question. _See_ Cape Colony

Cooper, Major, 253

Cope’s _History of the Rifle Brigade_, 7 _n._, 123 _n._, 146 _n._,
251 _n._

“Copenhagen” (Wellington’s horse), 270

Coruña, battle of, 2 _n._, 16, 17, 259;
retreat to, 84, 159

Coursing, in the Peninsula, 20, 38, 39, 55, 61-63, 89, 92;
at Cambray, 301-304;
in Cape Colony, 366

Coutts, Miss A. (Baroness Burdett-Coutts), 632

Cowley, Lord, 660

Cox, Maj. W. (called “Jem”) (75th), 379, 380, 384, 386, 425-427, 718,
722, 723, 731, 747, 751, 755

Cox, Fort, 425, 427, 428, 429, 619, 621, 623, 790;
Sir H. Smith shut up in, 620

Craufurd, Col., 284

Craufurd, Gen. Robert, 8, 9, 22, 24, 25, 30, 35, 50, 52, 56, 98, 177, 229;
organizes the “Light Division,” 18;
criticism of, 28, 29, 31;
popularity and unpopularity of, 49;
anecdote of, 51

Crimean War, 656, 658-664

Cromer, 703

Cunningham, Capt. J. D., 535

Cureton, Brig. C. R., 521, 522, 525, 526, 537, 540

Curtis, Mrs., 496

Cuyler, Col. J. G., 373, 374

Dada Khasgee Wala, 484, 485

Dâk, a journey by, 480, 770

Dalhousie, Lord, 97, 98, 340, 363, 367, 370

Dalkeith, George IV.’s stay at, 331, 332

Darling, Major-Gen. R., 183

Dauphine, Isle, 251

Dawson, Capt. (52nd), 86

Debe Flats, 729, 730

Debe Nek, 620

Deedes, Mr., 319

De Lancey, Col. Sir William Howe, 266

Deleytosa, 19

Delhi, 497, 502, 558

De Litte, 37

De Montmorency, Lieut. R. E. (50th), 513

Denain, battle of, 306

Derby, Lord, 672. _See_ Stanley, Lord

D’Este, Augustus Frederick, 226, 242

De Tabley, Lord, 671

Devonport, 656-659

Dholpore, 483, 485

Dhuleep Singh (boy-Maharaja of Lahore), 500

Dhurmcote (Durrumkote), 523-526, 534, 535, 558

Dhyan Singh, 500

Dick, Capt. (R. N.), 191

Dickson, Sir A., 239

Digby, Lieut. H. Robert (52nd), 169, 184, 189

Dingaan, 738

Divisions. _See_ Peninsular Army

Doby Hill. _See_ Dough Boy Hill

Donkin, Sir Rufane, 20

Dos Casas, 30

Doubloons, story of, 80-84

Dough Boy Hill, Doby Hill, 19, 321

Douglas, Lord, 330

Douglas, Sir Howard, 340

Douro R., 24, 151;
crossed by Wellington’s army, 94

Dover, 18, 318

Downie, Gen., 150

Downpatrick, 337

Doyle, Capt. John (72nd), 729

Drake, Capt. T. (95th), 97, 98

Drake, Mr. (Havana), 255

Dreams, and their fulfilment, 156, 157, 299, 300

Dreyer (shot as a rebel), 604, 605

Dreyer, Field Commandant, 726, 727

Drummond, Maj.-Gen., 54;
stories of, 45, 50

Duck-shooting, 89

Duffy, Capt. (43rd), 57

Durban, 226. _See_ Port Natal

D’Urban, Sir B., 630, 688;
Governor of the Cape, 368-463;
recall, 583;
commands in the Kafir War of 1835, 369-429, 720-758;
General Orders of, 380, 382, 416, 419, 424;
annexation of new province, 753;
dispatches to, 454, 455;
memorandum to, 715;
characterized, 721, 723, 729, 731, 733-735, 740, 751, 757

Durrumkote. _See_ Dhurmcote

Dushani, 434, 449

Dutch. _See_ Boers

Dutton, Lieut. T. (71st) (called “Kittie”), Mil. Sec. to Sir B. D’Urban,
723, 725, 730

Dyneley, Lieut., 602

East India Company, 562

Eaton (16th Lancers), 548 _n._

Eaton, Lieut. (95th), 15

Echallar, 115

Edinburgh, 324, 333, 654;
George IV.’s visit to, 331-333

Eeles, Capt. Charles, 34, 89, 758;
goes coursing, 62, 63;
killed at Waterloo, 287

Eeles, Lieut. W. (95th), 15

El Bodon, 51, 52

Elcho, Lord, 330

Elder, Capt. (95th), 28

Elio, Major-Gen., 8 _n._, 79, 699

Ellenborough, Earl of, 642 _n._;
Gov.-Gen. of India, 476, 484, 485, 487 _n._, 493, 501, 766-769, 776;
his administration, 772-775

Elley, Gen. Sir John, 183;
story of, 318

Elphinstone, Lord, 470

Elphinstone, Major-Gen. W. Keith, 473, 474, 478

Elvas, 61, 73

Ely (Cambs), 683;
Sir Harry Smith’s reception at, 574-576

Ely (South Africa), 588

England, natural facilities for defence against invasion, 319, 320

England, Gen., 478

England, Lieut.-Col. Richard (75th), 723

Eno (Kosa chief), 379, 762

Epinay, near Brussels, 266

Erskine, Sir W., 45, 47

Espeja, 47

Estremadura, 48, 61, 79

Evans, Gen. Sir De Lacy, 93, 195, 201, 206, 329, 561, 572, 655

Exejo, 28

Eyre, Col. (73rd), 634, 641, 789

Fairbairn, Mr. J., 614

Fakoo (Pondo chief), 436, 635, 736

Fall, Capt. T. (20th), 193, 204, 211, 222

Fane, Capt. T., 113, 115, 126, 127, 141, 154;
at “La Petite Rhune,” 145;
brings news of Harry Smith’s promotion, 293

Fequenas, 24

Ferozepore, 502, 503, 508, 509, 511, 517, 518, 520, 524, 548, 551, 558,
768

Ferozeshah, Ferozeshuhur, 503, 508;
battles of, 509-520, 550, 556, 779, 780

Fimare, heights of, 310

Fingoes, 391, 396, 398, 411, 416, 417, 423, 424, 638, 734, 738, 739, 741,
742, 746, 749

Firing uphill and down, 134

Fish R., 380, 383, 582

Fish River bush, forays into, 383-387, 635, 636, 719, 722

Fishbourne, Capt. (R.N.), 789

Fitzwilliam, Earl, 576

Fleming, Adm., 336, 345, 349, 350, 351

Fleurus, 266

Florida, Gulf of, 257

Flying-fish, 692-695

Ford, W. M. (Surgeon 72nd), 727, 781

Fordyce, Lieut.-Col. (74th), 638, 640, 782, 787, 790

Forster, Major, 538

Fortifications, 676-678

Four-in-hand driving, 489, 766

Fox-hunting:
in the Peninsula, 92;
at Cambray, 297, 298, 301, 710;
in England, 318, 319;
in Cape Colony, 363, 364

Foz de Aronce, Foz D’Aruz, 273

France, after the war, 181;
occupation of, 297-316

Frederick William, Prince, of Prussia, 664

Freer (Lieut. W. or Lieut. E.) (43rd), 65

Freixadas, 43

Fremantle, Lieut.-Col. F. (2nd Ft. Guards), 291, 307

French and English officers, courtesy between, 140, 141, 155, 156

French citizens and English officers, courtesy between (after Waterloo),
292, 312-315

French pillaging, 102, 103, 116

French prisoner’s return home, 189, 190

French stag-hunting, 295-297

Freneda, 92

Fuentes D’Oñoro, 89-92;
battle of, 49

Fuller’s Hoek, 641

Futteyghur, 523, 524

Gaika (Kafir chief), 427, 432, 434, 445, 449, 761

Gaikas, 626, 630

Gallegos, 28, 47

Galston New Mills, night march to, 328

Ganya (a Kafir councillor), 432, 435, 443-446, 457, 459

Garden, Col., 486

Gardner, Major T. C. (95th), 4, 7, 691

Garonne R., 175;
voyage down the, 184, 186

Garvock, Col., 598, 656, 683, 793

Gave de Pau, 162

Gave d’Oleron, 147

Gazela (Kafir chief), 444, 446, 447, 458

Gée, 170-172

Genanendal, 721

Genappe, 269, 270

Genn, Mr. B. (15th Hussars), 687

George (Cape Colony), 371, 372

George IV., 743;
as Prince Regent, 206, 213-216;
his visit to Edinburgh, 331-333

Ghent, 262, 264;
English army at, 265, 266

Gibbs, Gen., 227, 232, 235;
death of, 237

Gibbs, Major-Gen. Sir E., 565

Gilbert, Major-Gen. Sir W. R., at Moodkee, 504, 505;
at Ferozeshah, 511-513, 519 _n._

Gilmour, Major-Gen. Sir D. L., 14;
his mud hut, 141, 142;
death of, 567

Glasgow, 322-336, 654;
disturbances at, 322-329;
Volunteer Sharpshooters, 328, 329, 678, 679;
recognition of H. Smith’s services, 335;
testimonial after Aliwal, 579

Glasgow, Lord, 330, 336

Glenelg, Lord:
joins in the outcry on death of Hintza, 417, 458;
exonerates Harry Smith, 454, 455, 462;
reverses D’Urban’s settlement of 1835, 452, 453, 582, 583;
disastrous effects of this policy, 453, 454, 463, 464, 583, 584, 596,
619

Goat-herds, organization of, 129, 130

Godby, Col. (Brigadier), 526-533, 545, 558;
at Aliwal, 537-540

Gomm, Sir W., 46, 292;
extract from letter, 44 _n._

Gonoube Hill, 756

Gonoube R., 731

Goolab Singh, 500

Goongrana, Fort, 543

Gore, Hon. Charles (43rd), 111, 287

Gosport, march to, 319, 320;
Harry Smith’s stay in, 320-322

Gottenburgh, English fleet at, 15, 263, 749

Gough, Sir Hugh (afterwards Lord Gough):
Commander-in-Chief in India, 480-482, 770, 775, 777;
Gwalior campaign, 482-488, 490, 494, 770, 771;
Sutlej campaign, 504-511, 517-527, 534, 537, 780;
after Aliwal, 535, 547-549;
Sobraon, 561, 562

Gough, Lady (at Maharajpore), 496

Gough, Miss (at Maharajpore), 496

Govind Gooroo, 498

Graaf Reinet, 376, 379, 607

Grahamstown, 418, 422, 423, 429, 431, 448, 598, 605 _n._, 607, 719, 722,
749, 759;
Harry Smith’s ride to, 369-375, 380;
panic at, 372, 375, 720;
defence of, 375-378, 380, 381, 718, 723, 724, 728;
after the war, 461;
receives Sir Harry as Governor, 586, 587;
again in danger (1851), 628, 634, 635;
climate at, 725

Grant, Gen. Sir Lewis, 352

Grant, Major, 517

Green, Mr. (Commissariat), 601

Gregory, Major, 386

Greville, Algernon Frederick, 355

Greville, Charles Cavendish Fulke, 216

Grey, Earl, 609-615, 618, 627, 632, 643, 652, 654;
dispatches from, 636, 638, 639;
dispatch recalling Sir H. Smith, 641, 642, 782-786;
Sir H. Smith’s reply to, 787-793

Grey, Major-Gen. Sir John, 483-492, 521, 770

Greyling (a Cape Boer), 626, 727

Guadan Hills, 400

Guadarama Pass, 78, 82

Guadiana R., 16, 62

Guanga R., 400

Guernsey, 655

Guerrilla warfare, 640

Guides, Corps of, 388, 398, 399, 403, 720, 722, 723, 727, 747

Guinaldo, 50-52, 54, 75, 89, 92-94

Gunga rivulet, 731

Gungrana, 527-532

Gurwood, Capt. J. (10th Hussars), conduct at Ciudad Rodrigo, 56, 58

Guznee, 476, 477 _n._

Gwalior, war in, 479-496, 770

Haca, La (a pass), 109

Haddon (Cape Colony), 634

Haines, Mr. Commissary, his beagles, 92

Halifax, Nova Scotia, 339, 340, 350;
the garrison’s farewell to Harry Smith, 341-344

Hall, Dr., 598, 602

Hallifax, Capt. R. D. (75th), 722, 727, 737

Hamilton, Capt. (52nd), 199

Hardinge, Sir H. (afterwards Viscount Hardinge);
Peninsula, 62;
Secretary at War, 355;
Governor-General of India, 501, 774-776;
Sikh War, 501, 502;
before Ferozeshah, 508;
Ferozeshah, 511, 520 _n._, 557;
before Aliwal, 523, 780;
after Aliwal, 548, 549, 552, 553, 566;
rewarded, 561, 562;
at home, 655;
Commander-in-Chief, 658, 660

Hardy, Sir T., 197

Hare, Fort, 620, 623, 624, 626

Harrismith, 651

Harry, Fort, 727, 737

Harwich, 14, 262;
Black Bull inn at, 263, 264

Hastings, 685

Havana (the Havannah), 30, 255, 259;
Spanish ladies of, 255;
the harbour, 256, 257

Havelock, Major-Gen. Sir H., 319 _n._;
relations to Harry Smith, 326, 687, 688;
in the Mutiny, 665, 666;
letter from, 477 _n._

Havelock, Col. W., 31, 297, 569 _n._, 665 _n._

Hay, Lord Arthur, 660

Haye Sainte, La, 270, 275

Heera Singh, 500

Hermanus, 622, 630

Hermanus Kraal, 376, 720, 759

Hervey, Col. Sir Felton E., 299, 300;
his greyhounds and Harry Smith’s, 302-304

Hicks, Brig., 510, 540

Higgins (Staff-Surgeon), 39

Hill, Capt., 521

Hill, Lord:
Peninsular War, 37, 79, 82, 176;
a sportsman, 302, 303;
Commander-in-Chief, 465, 717

Himbury, Serg. T. (95th), 657, 658

Hingonah, Camp, 486

Hintza (great chief beyond the Kei), 390-418 (_passim_), 649, 719-755
(_passim_);
evasive conduct, 390, 391, 719;
war against, 391, 735;
rides into camp, 392, 743;
hears bagpipes, 451;
makes peace, 395, 743;
remains as hostage, 395, 744;
death, 397-407, 755;
outcry in England, 417, 418, 453, 454

Hobhouse, Sir J. Cam, 572

Hofer, Andreas, 655

Hogan, John (7th Fusiliers), 253

Hogg, Major, 636, 644

Holdich, Gen. Sir E. A., 551, 598, 659, 660, 780;
extracts from his diary, 598-607

Holdich, Rev. T., 579

Holdich, Mrs. T., 778, 780

Holmes, Lieut., 532, 542

Holmes, Lieut. (R.N.), 191, 194, 195

Hope, Sir J., 154, 155, 330

Horse-racing, 55, 293

Hotham Hill, 757

Hotham, Lord, 560

Hottentots, 376, 418, 447;
enrolled in war of 1835 as 1st and 2nd Provisional Battalions, 383,
386-389, 398, 408, 411-415, 420-422, 425, 464, 465, 723, 739,
741, 745, 758;
Kat River legion, 756;
levies for war of 1851, 621, 622, 628;
defection of (1835), 386;
do. (1851), 622, 623, 628-631, 635, 785, 789, 791.
_See also_ Cape Mounted Rifles, Kat River Settlement

Hougoumont, 268, 309

Howard of Effingham, Lord, 321, 323

Hubon (in Sikh service), 501

Huebra, the fording of the, 84-86

Hull, 659, 660

Hull, Capt. (43rd), 33

Hull, Major (16th Grenadiers), 515

Hume, Major (27th), 271

Hunter, Samuel (Glasgow), 328 _n._, 329

Hurreekee, 522, 534

Hythe, 18

India, 465-570, 766

Indian Army, defects of, 494, 495

Indian Mutiny, 665

Inspiration, bright ideas by, 738

Ironmonger, Major (88th), 34, 48

Ituero, 59, 75

Jackson, Gen. (U.S.A.), 240

Jamaica, 342-351;
yellow fever in, 344-348;
barrack accommodation in, 345;
tour of inspection of, 348-350;
slaves, 349

Jansi, 115

Japps (sergeant of escort), 397, 406, 725, 726, 728, 732

Jellalabad, 475, 477 _n._

Jervis, Capt., 725, 727

Johnson, Capt. (Whittlesea Yeomanry Cavalry), 2

Johnstone, Col. Wm. (once of 95th), adventure of, 42, 43;
at Ciudad Rodrigo, 58, 179;
at the Cape, 718, 753

Johnstone, Lieut. E. D. (95th), 179

Juanasburg, 588 _n._, 619

Juggernauth, Temple of, 470

Jugraon, 525-535, 538, 544

Jullundur, the, 545, 546

Jummoo, 500

Junot, Marshal, 15

Kaffraria, British, 588, 616;
war in, 619-646

Kafir chiefs, meetings of, 437, 438, 457, 458, 587-589, 607, 617, 618,
619, 760-765

Kafirland, 377, 387

Kafirs, 362, 363;
their beauty, 448;
ability, 432;
love of music, 451;
memory, 459, 460;
affection, 456, 458-461;
fine manners, 736;
feudal attachment, 631;
customs, 393, 394, 430-451;
mode of communication, 395, 396, 407, 442, 443;
civilizing of, _see_ Civilizing

Kafir wars:
that of 1835, 369-429, 718-759, 761;
that of 1847, 579-581, 586, 587;
that of 1850, 619-649, 782-793

Kakke (Mpako) R., 411

Kat R., 628

Kat River Settlement, 376;
revolt of, 622-625, 631;
rebels tried, 633, 791, 792

Keane, Gen. Sir John (Lord Keane):
in New Orleans expedition, 228, 235, 237, 245;
Governor of Jamaica, 340, 344-349;
at home, 495

Kei R., 392-415, 418-420, 427, 431, 438, 587, 636, 638, 640, 732-756, 790

Keiskamma R., 387, 582, 587, 619, 624, 725, 762

Kempt, Gen. Sir James, 62, 111, 115, 142-144, 292, 323, 339, 563, 688,
778-781;
at Waterloo, 270-273, 277;
Governor of Nova Scotia, 340, 341;
parting words to Harry Smith, 343;
letters from, 519 _n._, 556;
letters to, 490, 551;
death, 661

Kempt’s Valley, 757

Kent, Duchess of, 323, 571

Kent, Duke of, 310

Kilmarnock, 328

Kincaid, Sir John, 68, 146, 152, 214, 316, 339, 341, 556 _n._, 569,
572, 688;
letters from, 555

King, Capt. (R.N.), 206, 208

Kingston, Jamaica, 344

King William’s Town, founding of, 418, 754, 756;
Harry Smith established at, 420-461, 757;
departure from, 458, 459;
second founding of, 588 _n._;
arrival of Sir Harry Smith as Governor, 587-590;
visit after Boomplaats, 607;
meets Kafir chiefs at, 617, 618;
his headquarters during Kafir War, 618-647, 788, 790;
dramatic departure from, 647

Kitchen, Joe, story of, 167, 168

Knighton, Sir William, 332

Kok, Adam (Griqua captain), 590, 591, 600

Koonap R., 634

Kotze (a horse-breeder), 366

Kreili, Kili (son of Hintza):
in the British camp, 392, 396, 397, 744, 745, 747, 748, 750, 753;
as chief, 429, 438, 457, 756;
meets Sir H. Smith, now Governor, 607;
his ambiguous policy during Kafir War, 1850-1852, 622, 635;
his country invaded by Sir H. Smith, 636, 638, 640, 790

Krom Elbe (Kromme-Elleboog) R., 600

Kruger, Gert, 598, 605

Kuba (Hintza’s councillor), 391, 393, 740, 742

Kurnal, 470

Lacy, Capt. T. E. (72nd), 413

Ladwa, Rajah of, 527, 536

Ladysmith, 651

Lahore, 493, 498, 499, 550, 766, 768

Lake, Adm., 340

Lal Singh, 500, 503

Lambert, Gen. Sir John:
commands a brigade at New Orleans, 229-236;
commands in chief, 237;
retirement from New Orleans, 238-246;
makes Smith his Mil. Sec., 243;
takes Fort Bowyer, 248-250;
disembarks army on Ile Dauphine, 251;
at Havana, 255-257;
return to England, 258-259;
appoints Smith his Major of Brigade, 260-262;
Waterloo campaign, 265-273, 288;
wounded, 279;
commands divisions, 292, 298, 300, 355;
at home, 320, 357, 495

Lambert, Mrs. R. (Miss Alice E. Smith), 669, 682

Lane, Lieut.-Col., 538, 543

Larade, 51

Lawrence, Major (U.S.A.), 249-251

Lawrence, Sir H. M., 666

Lawrenson, Major, 537, 541

Layton, Lieut. (95th), 20, 44

Leach, Capt. Jonathan (95th), 20, 30, 41, 89, 569, 572

Lennox, Lord G., 164

Lesaca, 127

Lester (72nd), 756

Letters, the opening of, 777

Le Verrier (astronomer), 578

Leveson-Gower, Major-Gen., criticized, 8, 10, 246

Light Division. _See_ Peninsular Army

Lindé, Field Commandant Swellendam Burghers, 387, 726, 727

Lindsay (? Lieut. J. P. Lindsell), 11th Dragoons, 151, 262

Liniers (Commandant of Buenos Ayres), 10

Lisbon, 15, 18, 33, 39

Littler, Major-Gen., 502, 503, 507;
at Ferozeshah, 507-520

Liverpool, 353-355, 562

“Lochinvar,” Harry Smith’s horse, 287, 303, 311, 312, 319

London, 211-219, 355, 356, 571-574, 669, 674, 677-682, 685, 700, 701, 724;
freedom of the city, 572;
defence of, 589

London Missionary Society, 630

Lonsdale, Kafirland, 377

Loodiana (Loodhiana), 504, 526-538, 544, 546, 547, 558, 559, 766

Louis XVIII. at Ghent, 265;
his entry into Paris, 292, 293

Louvres, 298

Lovett, Capt. G. W. M. (50th), 513

Low, Ensign, 758

Lucknow, relief of, 665

Lugard, Capt. E., 518

Lumley, Capt. (? F. D.), 517

Lumley, Gen. J. R., 517

Lumley, Hon. W., 10, 691

Lumsden, Capt. (R.N.), 339

Lushington (Mil. Sec. to Gen. Jackson, U.S.A.), 245

McCaskill, Major-Gen. Sir John, 506

McCulloch, Capt. J. G. (95th), 273

Macdonald, Lieut.-Gen. Sir Alex., 47(?), 556 _n._

Macdougall, Capt. D. (85th), 195, 222, 239, 333

MacDowell, Brig., 537

Mackeson, Major, 535, 538

Mackinnon, Col. G. H., in command at King William’s Town, 588, 616, 617;
engaged in the Kafir War, 621, 622, 625, 628, 633, 635

Mackinnon, Gen., killed, 57

McLeod, Major C., 31;
mortally wounded, 65

McLeod, Major N., 8

Macomo (son of Gaika, half-brother to Sandilli):
in Kafir War, 1835, 392, 425, 747, 748, 755;
making of peace, 426, 427;
after-relations, 434, 437, 444-447, 450, 459, 460, 764;
meeting with Sir H. S. in 1847, 586;
in 1848, 607;
joins in Kafir War of 1850-1853, 635, 636, 641

Madras, 470

Madrid, 78, 79, 81, 255

Maharajpore, battle of, 486-496, 673, 674, 770, 771

Mahrattas, 485-496. _See_ Maharajpore

Maitland, Sir Peregrine, 584

Malcolm, Col., 194, 195

Malcolm, Rear-Adm., 186, 191-193, 195-197, 240, 252, 253, 265, 266

Malines, 282

Maling, Surgeon John (52nd), 164

Malmesbury, Earl of, 572 _n._

Malplaquet, 290

Man, Isle of, governorship, 335

Manchester, 659-675;
“Art Treasures Exhibition,” 664;
address from, 670, 671;
“Peterloo,” 322

Mani (a Kafir messenger), 459, 460

Manningham, Col. Coote (95th), 3 _n._

Maquay (Kafir chief), 395, 748

March (Cambs), 683

March, Lord. _See_ Richmond, Duke of

Maria Josepha, 90

Marialva, 28, 47

Marines, 194

Marlborough, Duke of, 306;
compared with Wellington, 290

Marmont, Marshal, 52, 75

Marsac, 181

Martiago, 51

Massena, Marshal, 30, 37, 41, 48

Medals and clasps of Sir Harry Smith, 684 _n._

Mein, Capt. William (52nd), 129, 130, 725

Melk (a horse-breeder), 366, 367

Mellish (? Col. H. F.), 302

Menzies, Mr. Justice, 331, 585;
letter to, 551, 564

Mersey, the, 354

Metcalfe, Lord, 499

Meyers (outfitter at Portsmouth), 209, 210, 224

Michael, Grand Duke of Russia, 310

Michel, Col. (afterwards Gen. Sir John), 633, 641, 644

Michell, Major, 736 _n._, 740

Military execution, 59, 60

Military prisoners, treatment of, 715-717

Mill, Lieut. (R.A.), 543

Milner Gibson, Mr., M.P., 668

Minni, Sergt., 725, 726

Misreewalla, 517

Missionaries, 435, 447, 450, 763, 765;
rescue of, 379, 380, 750;
degree of success, 448;
bad political influence, 452-454, 630, 633, 791 _bot._

Mississippi, the, 228, 230, 231, 233

Mobile, 248, 250, 251 _n._

Modder R., 584, 590

“Moira” (dog), 733, 745

Molesworth, Sir W., 629-631

Molloy, Lieut. J. (95th), 21, 179

Mondego R., 15, 32, 33

Mons, 288, 290

Montagu, Mr. John (Colonial Secretary at the Cape), 621, 650, 785, 791

Mont de Marsan, 166, 168, 751

Monteron, Conde de, 38

Monte Video, expedition to, 4-10, 79, 359-367;
storming of, 653

Mont Martre (Montmartre), 291

Montrose, 3rd Duke of, 330;
4th Duke, 571

Moodkee, battle of, 504-506, 556, 780, 781

Moore family, the, 711

Moore, Gen. Sir John, 3 _n._, 278, 555 _n._;
Swedish expedition, 14;
Peninsular expedition, 15-17

Moore, Rev. George, 1 _n._

Moore, Rev. T. C. C., 704, 709

Morell (staff-surgeon), 39

“Moro” (a Spanish greyhound), 38, 39, 61-63, 302

Moro Rock and Fort (Havana), 30, 257

Moroco (Chief of the Barolongs), 605

Moshesh (Chief of the Basutos), 590, 591, 606, 628, 635, 636

Moustache ordered to be worn by officers, 664

Mullins, Col., 244

Murchison, Major, 545, 547

Murphy, Major B. (88th), 34 _n._

Murphy (old soldier), 337

Murray, Capt. A. S. (Rifle Brig.), 601, 602

Murray, Capt. George (72nd), 388, 389, 398, 729, 733, 749, 753

Murray, Dr., 470

Murray, Sir George, 142, 143, 162, 163

Murray Castle, 757

Murray, Fort, 647

Nann, Sergeant P., 21, 22

Napier, Gen. Sir Chas. J., 556 _n._, 655, 656;
letter from, 496 _n._

Napier, Major-Gen. Sir George, 58, 455, 468, 583, 584, 590, 643 _n._

Napier, Gen. Sir William F. P., 569, 656, 680;
at Nivelle, 145;
_his History of the Peninsular War_, 43, 50, 117, 146

Napoleon I., 258, 263;
his tactics at Waterloo, 276, 277

Napoleon III., 660

Narinska, Prince and Princess, 305

Nassau, Island of, 351, 352

Natal, 464, 584, 593, 645, 786, 793;
Boers trek from, 592

National defence, 674-680

Nel (a Cape Boer), 626, 727

Nepaul, 493

Neuilly, 292, 293, 334

Newcastle-on-Tyne, 668

Newmarket, 261, 262, 700

New Orleans, expedition to, 226-247, 275;
discussed by Wellington, 304, 305

New Providence, 351

Ney, Marshal, masterly retreat of, 42;
execution of, 294

Nicolls, Gen. Sir Jasper, 471, 474, 480, 481, 770

Nicolls, Lady, 471

Night marches, condemned, 202, 203

Nive R., fighting near, 153

Nivelle, the, 140; battle of, 141-151

Nomsa (great wife of Hintza), 391, 429, 750

Nonibe (widow of Dushani), 434, 449

Noorpoor, 543

Norcott, Major-Gen. Sir Amos G., 318, 321, 340, 342

Norman Cross Barracks, French prisoners at, 2, 3

Northey, Lieut. E. R. (52nd), 100

Norton, Lord (formerly Mr. (Sir) C. Adderley), 637

Nott, Gen., 475-478

Nova Scotia, 338-344

O’Donnell (soldier of 95th), 88

Officers, British, 662

Officers and soldiers, kindly relations between, 26, 27, 88, 185, 254,
318, 321, 322, 337, 339, 340, 343, 344, 477 _n._, 580, 581, 586,
645, 646, 647, 657, 658, 668, 683, 687 _n._, 715-717, 730, 732, 734

O’Hare, Major P. (95th), 15, 41, 42, 65

“Old Chap” (war-horse), 93, 110, 133, 148, 220

Oldham, Capt., 635

Olite, 109

Olivença, 75

Onguala, 21

Orange, Prince of, 297

Orange River district, 584, 590.
_See next heading_

Orange River Sovereignty:
proclaimed, 593-596;
rebellion in, put down, 596-608;
progress of, 616, 644, 645, 786, 792;
trouble with Moshesh, 628, 635, 636, 640;
proposed abandonment deprecated by Sir Harry Smith, 636, 637;
abandonment, 637

Oropesa, 19

Orthez, battle of, 162-166

Ostend, 262, 264

Ovens, Harry Smith’s invention of, 252, 253

Owen, Mr. Mostyn, 636, 644

Pack, Sir Denis, 7, 699

Padre, the. _See_ Vicalbaro, Vicar of

Paget, Sir Edward, 16, 84, 85

Painter (servant), 726-728

Pakenham, Gen. Sir E., 44, 52, 183, 221, 222, 328;
his bravery, 171;
expedition against New Orleans, failure and death, 226-237, 242-244,
247, 304, 305

Palencia, 94, 95

Pamplona, 104, 105, 114

Paris, the allied armies at and near, 2 _n._, 291-298;
a visit in 1824, 334, 335;
another in 1854, 660

Park (? E. Parker), 62

Parker, Adm. Sir Peter, 193

Partridge-shooting at the Cape, 365

Pato (chief of the T’Slambies), 587, 607, 620, 625, 626, 647, 737

Patuxen R., 197

Pauillac, 189, 190

Payne, Major C. W. M. (72nd), 667 _n._, 673, 681;
letters to, 471 _n._, 672, 680-682

Peacock, Dean of Ely, 574, 576

Pearson, Capt. (16th Lancers), 541

Peddie, Col., 723, 724

Pedro V. of Portugal, 666, 667

Pedroso, 33 _n._

Peel, Sir Robert, 557, 560-562, 571

Peniche, 15

Peninsular Army—
1st Division, 87, 152, 154
2nd Division, 170
3rd Division, 47, 57, 58, 61-63, 67, 96, 117, 162, 163, 174, 175, 178;
Wellington’s praise of, 216
4th Division, 52, 61, 63, 65-67, 96, 117, 131, 133, 146, 175, 177,
178, 563;
Wellington’s praise of, 216
5th Division, 46, 47, 61, 63, 67
6th Division, 165, 175, 177, 178
7th Division, 97, 98, 100, 115, 125, 152, 155
Light Division, 18-181 (_passim_), 229, 332, 337, 563-566, 580, 665,
717, 772;
organization of, 18, 28, 129;
inspected, 51;
Craufurd’s instructions, 18, 98, 109;
mode of warfare, 174, 180, 198, 199, 216, 217;
dinner given by the survivors to Sir Harry Smith (1847), 572-574, 580

Peninsular medal, 574, 778

Peninsular War, 15-181

Penla rivulet, 762

“Peterloo,” 328

Petit, Col. P. J. (50th), 513

Peyton, Rev. Algernon, 577

Philippolis, 600

Phillips, Lieut.-Col. H. S., 526, 527

Philour, 526, 527, 533-537

Picquets, the posting of, 140, 141, 145, 155, 172, 173, 179, 180.
_See_ Sentries

Picton, Sir T., 32, 47, 163;
at Toulouse, 176;
at Waterloo, 269, 270, 277, 278

Pine, Mr. (Sir) Benjamin, 645, 786, 793

Pinhel, 30, 32

Pitt, Mr., 676

Plate R., plains of the, 10, 11

Plymouth, 656

Pollock, Gen. Sir George, 474, 476, 477 _n._, 478

Pombala, 41

Ponsonby, Sir W., 270, 277

Poorein, 539

Portalegre, 63

Port Elizabeth, 586, 607

Port Natal, 464.
_See_ Durban

Portsmouth, 4, 17, 222, 223, 258, 323, 579-582, 652, 653;
addresses from, 579, 652;
George Inn at, 17, 209, 224, 258, 580, 652

Potter, Paul, his “Bull,” 294

Pottinger, Sir Henry, 585, 586, 592, 608 _n._, 609, 610

Power, Sir Manley, 244

Poza Velha, 49

Pratt, Lieut. (65th), 32, 33

Preston, Lancs, 663

Pretorius, Mr. A. W. J., 592, 593, 596;
heads the disaffected Boers, 597-604

Prince Regent. _See_ George IV.

Prinsep, Mr. H. Thoby, 472

Proctor, — (21st Dragoons), 364, 365, 367

Prussia, King of, 306, 307, 310

Prussians, the, at Waterloo, 276

Puniar, battle of, 488, 770

Punjaub, the, 477 _n._, 478, 494, 497, 777;
history of, 497-501;
war in, 501-569, 779-781

Purcell (settler murdered Ap. 1835), 750

Putney, 215

Pyrenees, 114-117, 725, 734, 745, 751, 752;
battles, 114, 115

Quadraseyes, Quadrasies, 45, 47, 52

Quagga Flats, 759

Quatre Bras, 2 _n._, 266, 278

Queen Adelaide, Province of, 418, 419, 464, 583, 754, 756;
Harry Smith in command of, 420-461, 757-759;
abandoned by order of Lord Glenelg, 452-461, 583, 619

Rademeyer, Field-Commandant, 372, 626

Rae, Sir W., 327, 328

Raglan, Lord (Lord Fitzroy Somerset), 58, 66, 75 _n._, 131, 132, 151,
164, 216, 350, 355, 495, 496, 563, 660, 663, 689, 766

Ramsey, Hunts, 683

Ramsgate, 317

Rawstorne, Capt., 435, 443

Redinha, fighting at, 41-43, 76

Regiments (_British Army_)—
Guards, Brigade of, 17, 61, 315, 316
Grenadier Guards, 315, 316
7th Dragoon Guards, 587
7th Hussars, 325, 326
9th Dragoons, 13
14th Light Dragoons, 28, 33, 49
16th Light Dragoons, 28, 44, 52
17th Light Dragoons, 691
12th Lancers, 635, 789, 790
16th Lancers, 521, 525, 527, 543, 544, 547
Coldstream Guards, 315, 316
2nd (Queen’s), 34 _n._, 635, 789
3rd (Buffs), 278, 492
4th, 193, 199, 265, 268
7th Fusiliers, 233, 235, 238, 304
9th, 515
21st, 194, 232, 244
22nd, 346-348
27th, 244, 265, 266, 268;
loss at Waterloo, 271, 272
29th, 34
31st, 519, 528, 531, 540, 547, 779;
at Sobraon, 551, 552
33rd, 346-348
39th, 491
40th, 7, 244, 265, 268, 491, 691
43rd, 3 _n._, 15, 18, 28, 145, 789;
at the Coa, 31;
at Ciudad Rodrigo, 57;
on the New Orleans expedition, 233, 235, 238, 304
44th, 193, 199, 232
45th, 20, 599, 601
50th, at Maharajpore, 492;
at Moodkee, 505;
at Ferozeshah, 512-520, 779;
at Aliwal, 540, 547;
at Sobraon, 551, 552
52nd, 3 _n._, 15, 18, 21, 28, 45, 57-59, 85, 86, 98, 119, 120, 132,
134, 147-150, 152, 154, 164, 182, 564, 566;
in Nova Scotia, 339, 340
53rd, 527, 528, 531;
at Aliwal, 537, 541, 547
60th Rifles, 635
62nd, 517
72nd (Highlanders), 362, 376, 377, 379, 388, 398, 425, 719, 720, 723,
748, 756, 758
73rd, 618, 634, 789;
continuous marches, 635
74th, 626, 627, 638, 782, 789
75th, 378, 720
79th, 49
81st, 265, 268
84th, 346-348
85th, 193
86th, 320
87th, 20, 691
88th, 20, 58
91st, 598, 599, 601
95th (from 1816, Rifle Brigade), 2 _n._, 3-187 (_passim_), 325,
691-699, 719, 722, 730;
formation, 3;
confidence in support, 99, 119;
destructive fire, 174.
_See next heading_
Rifle Brigade, 329 _n._, 564-566, 587, 599, 616, 624, 657, 789;
in Ireland, 336, 337;
Nova Scotia, 338-344;
Sir H. S. appointed Col. of 2nd Battalion, 567;
transferred to the 1st Battalion, 661;
his last inspection, 668
98th, 362

Regiments (_Indian Army_)—
1st European Light Infantry, 513, 515
3rd Light Cavalry, 521, 523
19th Native Infantry, 515
24th, 515, 528
28th, 515
30th, at Aliwal, 537, 540, 541
36th, 537
42nd, 505
47th, 528, 548
48th, 505, 540
73rd, 515

Regiments (_German_)—
1st German Hussars, 24, 25, 28-30, 45;
stories of soldiers, 26, 27, 47, 48, 52;
at Waterloo, 269 _n._

Nassau and Frankfort desert from the French, 155;
at Waterloo, 269

Regiments (_French_)—
32nd Voltigeurs, 160, 161

Regiments (_Portuguese_)—
1st and 3rd Caçadores, 28, 30, 56 _n._, 130, 132, 133, 160, 184, 185

Regiments. _See_ also Cape Mounted Rifles, Corps of Guides, Hottentots,
Marines

Reid, Lieut. W. (R.E.), 134, 135

Rendo, Heights of, 53

Renny, Col. (21st), 235, 237

Rentell, Lieut. (52nd), 21, 22

Rex, Mr., 598, 602

Reynell, Major-Gen. Sir T., 330, 495

Reynier, Marshal, 45, 46

Rhune La Petite, 140, 143-146

Richmond, Duke of (Lord March), 164, 165, 302, 572

Riet R., 584, 590

Rio Janeiro, 4, 696-698

Rio Mayor, 37, 38

Ripon, Earl of, 571

Rivers, Harry, 371

Roadmaking in the South African bush, 643

Robb, Dr. John, 23, 222, 223, 239, 240, 243

Robertson, Mr. Thomas Campbell, 114, 116

Robledillo, 54

Roborough Downs, 658

Robson, James (Assistant-Surgeon), 147

Roncesvalles, Pass of, 114

Rondebosch, 370, 720, 723-725, 741;
address from, 648

Ross, Capt. C. (Cape Mounted Rifles), 398, 410, 414

Ross, (Sir) Hew D. (R.H.A.), 76, 88, 99, 463, 572

Ross, Col. John (Rifle Brigade), 212

Ross, Major-Gen. Robert:
Washington and Baltimore expedition, 183, 191-208, 213, 214, 221, 222;
criticized, 197, 207

Ross, Mrs. Robert, 207, 217

Rowan, Col. Sir Charles, 51, 54, 151;
K.C.B., 556 _n._, 569

Runjeet Singh, 472, 498, 499, 766

Runjoor Singh, 526, 527, 536, 544

Russell, Lord John, 642, 652

Russia, Emperor of, 310

Ryan, Col. T. (50th), 513

Ryneveld (civil commissioner), 376, 626

Sabugal, battle of, 45, 46

St. Arnaud, Marshal, 660

St. Cloud, 660

St. Denis (Paris), 291

St. Germain, 294-297

St. Jean de Luz, 140

St. Michael, Island of, 193, 194

St. Sever, 167

Salamanca, 16, 17, 34 _n._, 48, 49, 78, 83, 254;
battle of, 75, 76, 127, 151, 277, 778

Sale, Gen. Sir Robert, 475, 477 _n._, 505, 780

Salis, Lieut. (C.M. Rifles), 600

Sandflies, a remedy for, 254

Sandford (Commissary), 727

Sandilli (Gaika chief), 434, 446, 585, 587, 607, 635;
stirs up the war of 1850, 617-619

Sand River Convention, 644

San Estevan, 112

San Felices el chico, 89

Sanguessa, 109, 111, 112

San Millan, 97

San Muños, 84

San Pedro, Fort of (Monte Video), 8 _n._

San Sebastian, siege of, 113, 114, 117, 125, 131, 658

Santa Barbara, 112

Santarem, 37, 38

Sargant, Mrs. (Jane Alice Smith), 1 _n._, 2 _n._, 356, 357, 703;
letter from, 712, 713;
letters to, 550, 555, 556, 629, 766-781

Scinde, 479, 493

Scinde R., 485

Scott, Gunner (R.H.A.), 542

Scott, Sir Walter, 332

Scovell, Sir George, A.Q.M.G., 268

Seapoys, 492, 495, 499

Seaton, Capt. (Indian army), 513, 515

Seaton, Lord (Col. Colborne), 37, 55, 57, 120-123, 126, 127, 131, 133,
140, 142-144, 152-154, 156, 170, 197, 199, 200, 201, 234, 661,
686, 715;
severely wounded, 58, 59;
commands a Brigade of the Light Division, 124;
military qualities of, 130;
recommends H. Smith for a majority, 131, 132;
a bold venture, 134-136;
storms La Petite Rhune, 144-146;
captures a fort, 147-150;
shot through his cap, 160;
interests himself in Harry Smith, 182, 183

Sea-voyage, its effect on troops, 199, 204

Sedgwick, Prof. Adam, 5 _n._, 558 _n._, 574-579

Sentries, unnecessary, 320, 321, 362.
_See also_ Picquets

Seyolo, 458

Shadwell, Col. L., 681-683

Shaw, Mr. (Corps of Guides), 404

Shekawattee Brigade, 534, 537-543

Shepstone, Mr. (Sir) Theophilus (Interpreter), 394, 743, 747, 750;
story told by, 605 _n._

Shere Singh, 766, 768

Shorncliffe, 3 _n._, 299, 318-320

Sidbury (S. Africa), 586

Sikhs, the, 473, 474, 478, 777;
account of, 497-503;
war with, 503-568, 779-781

Sikonyela (Chief of the Batlokuas), 606

Simla, 480, 497, 566;
memoranda dated from, 476 _n._;
letters from, 488, 563, 767-781

Simmons, Major George (95th), 32-34, 39, 40, 48, 146 _n._, 171 _n._, 330;
death, 667;
letters to, 563, 567, 663

Skelton, Gen., 477 _n._

Skerrett, Gen., 113, 118-128

Slaves in Jamaica, 349

Smith, Miss Anna Maria, 2 _n._, 686, 700, 701, 707, 712, 713, 776

Smith, Lieut. Band, 527, 532

Smith, Capt. Charles (95th), 2 _n._, 261, 263, 272, 357, 576 _n._,
578 _n._, 661, 700, 701 _n._, 707-710, 712, 777

Smith, Eleanor (Harry Smith’s mother), 1 _n._, 325, 701, 703;
her parting command, 158, 159, 577;
letter from, 702;
her death intimated in a dream, 156;
her death, 157, 705-707;
her grave, 221

Smith, Eleanor Moore, 2 _n._, 703, 705, 712;
letters from, 700, 706, 711

Smith, Elizabeth, 2 _n._, 703, 707

Smith, George Moore, 664, 682

Smith, Lieut. Harry, 771

Smith, Sir Henry George Wakelyn (Sir Harry), _passim_

Smith, Lieut.-Col. Hugh, 659, 683, 770

Smith, Jane Alice. _See_ Sargant, Mrs.

Smith, John (Harry Smith’s father), 1 _n._, 156, 223, 259, 262, 263,
683, 691, (dedication), 701, 702, 703, 707, 726, 767, 769;
meets Juana Smith in London, 217-219;
visits Cambray, 313, 314;
his death, 712, 713;
letters from, 157, 288, 705, 708, 710

Smith, John Stona, 2 _n._;
his marriage, 700, 701

Smith, Juana Maria de los Dolores (Lady Smith):
meeting with Harry Smith, 68-71;
described, 70-74;
beloved by the soldiers, 77, 340;
her riding, 75-77, 220, 308;
her relations, 75, 76, 159;
her enjoyment of Madrid, 78, 79;
the lost doubloons, 80-83;
at Salamanca, 77, 78;
campaigning adventures, 85, 86, 89, 90, 101, 102, 108, 116;
false alarms, 100, 133, 137, 260, 286, 287;
lame, 94-96, 110, 111;
a night in a mud hut, 141;
forebodings of evil, 144, 151;
in danger, 154;
on field of Orthez, 166;
a brave ride, 167-169;
attacked by a mad woman, 172;
at Toulouse, 179, 180;
separation from her husband, 182-188;
reunion in London, 212, 213;
visit to Bath, 217;
meets her father-in-law, 218, 219;
at Whittlesey, 220;
fresh separation, 222, 223, 228, 251;
reunion, 259, 260;
departure for Waterloo campaign, 261-267;
her adventures, 280-288, 709;
at Paris, 292-297;
serious illness, 298, 299;
at Cambray, 301-316, 711;
coursing, 302;
dancing, 305, 306;
accomplishments, 308;
presented to the Emperor of Russia, 310, 311;
wins back “Lochinvar” in a raffle, 312;
her dresses, 317;
to Gosport, 320;
to Scotland, 323;
in Edinburgh, 324, 325, 333;
leaving Glasgow, 335, 336;
in Nova Scotia, 340;
voyage, 344;
in Jamaica, 344-350;
at Nassau, 352;
voyage to Liverpool, 352-357;
at the Cape, 361, 364, 365, 370;
letters to, 718-759;
journey to King William’s Town, 422, 423, 754-759;
her life there, 423, 449, 458;
return to Cape Town, 461;
voyage to Calcutta, 465, 468-470;
journey by _dâk_, 480, 770;
at Maharajpore, 495, 486, 771;
Sikh war, 563, 564, 568, 780;
in England, 572 _n._, 574, 579;
at Cape Town, 585, 628, 629, 631, 649;
in England, 655, 657, 659, 661, 663, 664, 666, 668, 669, 672, 681,
682, 684 _n._, 689;
death, 685;
described by her husband, 490, 577, 586, 671, 740, 752, 753

Smith, Mary (Mrs. Charles), 701

Smith, Mary Anne, 2 _n._

Smith, Samuel, 2 _n._, 708

Smith, Col. Thomas L., 2 _n._, 21, 22, 78, 121, 123 _n._, 701-705, 709,
712, 572, 683;
gazetted, 14;
severely wounded, 31-33;
at Ciudad Rodrigo, 56, 57;
with Colborne after Vera, 135;
goes home, 184, 187;
at Waterloo, 272;
a good adjutant, 704;
death, 686

Smith, Mrs. T. L., 686

Smith, Wakelyn, 1 _n._

Smith, William, 2 _n._, 713

Smith family, 1 _n._

Smithfield, 606

Smith, Fort, 755

Smith’s Tower, 395

Smoking, 254, 752

Smugglers, 126

Smyth, Capt. Charles, 287

Smyth, Major (16th Lancers), 541

Sobral, i. 35

Sobraon, 545;
British position at, 521, 522, 548, 549;
battle of, 549-553, 557, 561

Soldiers in confinement, treatment of, 715-717

Somerset, Major Arthur, 495, 512, 766, 780

Somerset, Lord Charles, 363

Somerset, Lord Fitzroy. _See_ Raglan,
Lord

Somerset, Col. (Major-Gen.) Henry:
in the war of 1835, 374, 375, 379, 385, 392, 393, 723, 733, 741;
in the war of 1850, 620-641, 782, 792

Somerset, Mount, 719

Somnauth, the Gates of, 769

Sonnact, 529

Soult, Marshal, 48, 50, 84, 113, 114, 319, 704

Southampton, 570, 571

Southey, Richard (Corps of Guides):
Kafir war of 1835, 400, 727;
shooting of Hintza, 404-406, 418;
Boomplaats expedition, 598, 604, 606

Spanish hatred of the French, 106-108

Spanish soldiers, 185

Spanish Town, Jamaica, 345

Sparks, Capt. M. G. (49th), 378

Speirs, A., Esq., 336

Spencer, Sir Brent, 47

Spencer, Lord Charles (95th), 170

Sport, 15, 20, 21, 38, 39, 55, 61, 63, 82, 89, 92, 162, 293, 295-298,
301-304, 308, 318, 319, 340, 343, 363-368, 462, 710

Stackpoole, Capt., 227, 228

Stag-hunting:
in Portugal, 21;
at St. Germain, 295-297

Stanley, Lord, 609.
_See_ Derby, Lord

Stanway (Provost Marshal), 82

Stedman, Brig., 537

Stephanie, Queen of Portugal, 667

Steuart, Capt. (95th), 184

Stewart, Capt. the Hon. James (95th), 20, 38, 39, 41, 62, 63, 79, 92,
93, 110

Stewart, Lieut. (88th), 58

Stewart, Lieut, and Adj. James (95th), 29, 35, 43

Stewart, Major Jas., 348

Stewart, Major John (95th), 43

Stewart, the Hon. Sir W., 3, 87;
organizes the 95th, 3 _n._;
anecdote of, 170;
his bravery, 170, 171

Stirling, Sir James, 255-258, 339

Stockenstrom, Capt. (Sir) Andries, 453, 455, 457, 458, 614, 647

Stovin, Lieut.-Col. F., 228, 233

Strachey, Lieut., 538

Stretch, Capt., 434

Strode, Lieut. (95th), 43

Struvé (a man of science), 578

Sturgeon, Major, 174

Suchet, Marshal, 161

Superstition, 721

Suta (widow of Gaika), 434, 444, 446, 449

Sutlej (Sutledge) R., 502, 520, 521, 527, 533, 537

Swaine, Capt. (R.N.), 228

Sweden, expedition to, 14, 15

Swellendam, 371, 387, 726

Swetenham, Lieut. H. D. (16th Lancers), 532

Tabendoda (Tab ’Indoda), Mts., 421, 624

Tafalla, 109

Taggart, Lieut. (43rd), 64

Tagus, the, 20, 50

Talavera, battle of, 18, 19, 75 _n._, 159, 778

Talbot, Col. (14th), 29

Tambookies, 641

Tarbes, battle of, 174, 175

Tarsac, 171

Taylor, Brig., 534, 535

Taylor, Col. Brook, 660

Tej Singh, 500, 503

Thackeray, W. M., on the Aliwal dispatch, 557

Theopolis, 628

Thomson (? R.E.), 746, 747

Thornton, Col. (85th), 195, 198, 199, 234, 235, 238, 239

Thunderstorm in S. Africa, 739

“Tiny” (Juana Smith’s horse), 76, 77, 85, 92-94, 102, 109, 111, 169,
220, 260

Tormes R., 76

Toro, 94

Torres Vedras, 33

Toulouse, 76, 130, 167, 171, 179-183, 216;
battle of, 130, 176-179;
battle criticized, 178

Trafalgar, battle of, 192, 304

T’Slambies, 431, 435, 441, 626, 634, 790

T’solo R., 742

T’somo R., 392, 742, 753, 754

Tucker, Col. (29th), 34

Tudela, 151

Tugela R., 593

Tulwun, the Ghat of, 536, 537

Turton, Capt., 541, 543

Tyalie (son of the Chief Gaika):
in 1835-6, 427-429, 434, 437, 444-446, 448, 457, 458, 460, 724, 747,
748, 755, 764;
in 1852, 641

Tylden, Capt., 625, 633

Tylden, Major Sir G., 233, 237

Tyrol, 655

Uitenhage, 372-374, 631, 759

Umdizini bush, 387

Umhala (chief of the T’Slambies):
in 1835-6, 431, 434, 435-437, 441-446, 458, 764;
in 1848, 607

Umlanjeni (Kafir prophet), 617

Umritsir, 498

Umtata R., 409, 411, 755

Umtini (Hintza’s councillor), 393, 394, 400-402, 407, 747, 748, 753

Uniacke, Capt. (95th), 56, 57

United Service Club, 654

Upton, Hon. Arthur, 87

Ustaritz, 162

Vadana, 747, 753, 756

Valde Mula, 30

Valenciennes, 298, 300, 311

Valiant, Major-Gen., 491

Vallada, 37

Vallé, 37, 38, 40

Vandeleur, Major-Gen. Sir H., 51, 58, 63, 79, 80, 89, 93, 97, 98, 101,
104, 111, 113, 126;
stories of, 82, 105

Van der Byl (a horse-breeder), 367

Van Diemen’s Land, 613

Van Reenen (a horse-breeder), 363, 367

Van Wyk, Field Commandant, 626, 723, 751

Vera, 112, 113, 117, 131, 137;
attack at the bridge of, 118-125;
storming of the Pass of, 133-136, 159

Vernais, 298

Vet R., 605, 606

Veterans, 337;
discharge of, 321, 322

Vicalbaro, Vicar of, 79-92 (_passim_)

Vic Begorre, 174

Victoria, Queen, 571, 578, 659, 660, 664

Victoria, district of, 587

Villa de Ciervo, 24, 25

Villa de Lobos, 24

Villalba, 108

Villa Viçosa, 16

Vimiero, battle of, 15

Vittoria, 93, 94;
battle of, 97-100, 105, 125, 277, 778

“Vittoria,” a pug dog, 101, 102, 154, 213, 220, 260, 281-283, 340

Vivian, Gen. Sir Hussey, 269 _n._, 302, 329, 330, 333

Volunteers in the Duke’s army, 261

Volunteer Movement, 675-680

Wade (A.D.C. to Gen. Cole), 78

Wade, Col., 715

Wade, Lieut. John (72nd), 396

Wainwright, Capt. (R.N.), 206, 209

Waldemar, Prince (of Prussia), 548, 663

Waltham Cross, 259

War, the horrors of, 16, 17, 46, 67, 68, 102, 210, 274, 275;
the science of, 734

Ward, Mrs. Harriet, 586, 588 _n._

Warden, Capt. (Major) Henry D., 426, 427, 756;
British Resident at Bloemfontein, 584, 590, 594, 597-600, 635, 786, 792

Washington, 151, 182, 203;
capture of, 200, 201, 206, 215, 309

Waterkloof, the, 635, 636, 638, 641

Waterloo, battle of, 268-280, 309;
criticized, 276-279;
the field after the battle, 273-276, 279, 286, 287;
the gazette, 709;
field revisited, 309, 310;
anniversary 1819, 322;
do. 1840, 469;
do. 1851, 629;
do. 1852 (Waterloo Banquet), 654, 655;
do. 1855, 663

Watin, Mons., 312-315

Waugh, Capt. (16th Lancers), 538

Wellesley, Sir Arthur. _See next heading_

Wellington, Duke of, 18-181 (_passim_), 263-316 (_passim_), 355 _n._,
704, 778;
his discipline, 32, 116, 136, 137, 150, 307, 308;
his humane warfare, 200;
his justice, 132;
gives a hint of intended movements, 80;
plays a safe game, 155, 546;
his reticence, 124;
knowledge of the enemy, 37, 38, 142, 175, 176;
use of spies, 104;
sense of his own dignity, 300;
trusted by his army, 94, 126, 307;
as a sportsman, 55, 92, 297, 301, 304;
stories of, 51, 52, 307, 356;
compared with Marlborough, 290;
his opinion of the Light Division, 216, 580;
a maxim of, 766;
plans battle of the Nivelle, 142, 143;
before battle of Orthez, 162, 163;
before Waterloo, 267-270;
at Waterloo, 272, 276;
after the battle, 291;
at Cambray, 301-311;
as Prime Minister, 165, 356;
conversation on New Orleans disaster, 304, 305;
his brother, 216;
his praise of Sir H. S. after Aliwal, 556 _n._, 558-560, 562, 563,
684, 685, 688;
at Cambridge, 578;
letter to Sir Harry on the Kafir war, 627, 628, 631, 632;
defends Sir Harry’s conduct of the war, 642, 643;
gives last Waterloo Banquet, 654, 655;
death, 656;
his letter on national defence, 674, 675;
relations with Harry and Juana Smith, 54, 150, 213, 299-310, 350,
488, 489, 563, 571, 579, 654, 655, 656;
Harry Smith’s master and pattern, 555 _n._, 562, 563, 670, 686

Wellington, Fort, 443, 627;
built, 756

Wessels, Field Cornet, 605

West (soldier of 95th, Harry Smith’s servant), 77, 85, 89, 100, 111,
168, 169, 172, 189, 211, 223, 224, 253, 254, 258, 259, 262,
281-286;
discharged from the army, 322

Westminster, 654

Wheeler, Brig. H.M.:
at Moodkee, 505;
at Aliwal, 534, 537, 540, 547, 548, 559

White, Major (Burgher force, 1835), 398, 410, 411, 753, 756

White, Brig., 503

White, Fort, 621, 623, 624, 790

Whitelock, Gen., 7 _n._, 8, 9, 10;
criticized, 246, 247

Whittlesea (Whittlesey), Cambs., 1-3, 6 _n._, 77, 217, 357, 661, 664,
777, 778;
Harry Smith’s first departure from, 158;
visits to, 159, 220-222, 259-263;
thoughts of, 108;
dream of, 156, 157;
a wedding and a funeral at, 700-703;
Yeomanry Cavalry of, 2, 3, 576, 578;
visit to, in 1847, 574-577;
Sir Harry and Lady Smith buried at, 682, 683, 685;
letters from, 6 _n._, 288, 700-713

Whittlesea, Cape Colony, 625, 633, 641, 651;
its founding, 590 _n._

Williams, — (R.E.), 754

Willshire, Fort:
during Kafir war of 1835, 376, 377, 379, 387, 388, 423, 430, 720-723,
725, 737, 758, 759

Wilson, Brig., at Aliwal, 537, 540

Winburg, 584, 591, 596, 597, 599, 605, 606

Winterbottom, John (Adjutant 52nd), 135

Wisbeach (Cambs.), 683

Woburn (S. Africa), 588 _n._, 619

Woodville, Mr. (Havana), 256

Wounded, kindness to the, 88, 101, 137-139, 171, 172, 204

Wright, Brig. (39th), 491

Wyld, Brig., 475

Wylly, Major A., 243

Wyvill, Commodore, 789

Xabecca (Gnabecca) R., 44, 45

Xuramenha, fort of, 16

Yellow fever, 344-348

Yeomany Cavalry, 331;
Whittlesey troop, 2, 3, 576, 578;
Scottish, 330, 331;
Lord de Tabley’s regiment, 671

Yorke, Gen. Sir Chas, 681

Zamora, 38

PRINTED BY

WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,

LONDON AND BECCLES.

Transcriber’s Note

Minor punctuation and printer errors repaired.

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=.

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Autobiography of Lieutenant-General Sir Harry Smith Baronet of Aliwal on the Sutlej G.C.B." ***

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