Soldier’s Glory; Being “Rough Notes Of A Soldier” – Vol. II

By Major-General George Bell C. B.

Volume Two of General Bell’s memoirs begins with his journey back to Britain from India, stopping on the way at St. Helena to pay his respects at the tomb of Napoleon. He is then posted to Canada, taking part in putting down a rebellion led by republican Canadians, and his further travels lead him back to Europe via the United States. His reminiscences form a travelogue with a military slant, capturing the environs and habits of the populations with a delicate piquancy.
Frustrated by court intrigue and influence stunting his further advancement in the service, in peacetime circumstances he would have been stuck with dismal prospects for the future. Many years after his baptism of fire in the Napoleonic Wars, he is posted as part of the British expeditionary force under Lord Raglan to the Crimea. Despite horrific conditions, he leads his men in the battles of Alma and Inkerman. His commentary of the daily life in the trenches recalls the slough of despond of the First World War: the mud, blood, shelling and disease are recalled along with the scarcity of supplies. Infuriated by the blundering politicians, Bell writes a passionate letter to the Times, which (although truthful) does nothing to help his advancement. By a stroke of luck he is plucked from his pestilent surroundings by a staff posting offered by an old comrade.
As he recovers his health, he travels once more to Canada and to the United States, just at the turn of the Civil War, meeting such luminaries as General McClellan and General Scott. He briefly meets with the great Lincoln who he describes as “thin and wiry…very kind and familiar in his manner to all, but a very commonplace-looking man”.
As with his first volume, Bell maintains his narrative with wit and verve, not without a few passing shots at his particular gripes, the Army hierarchy and Roman Catholicism.
Author – Major-General George Bell C.B. – (1794 - 1877)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wagram Press
• Release date: Aug 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781908902047

Book preview

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CHAPTER II.

Homeward-bound.—Meum et Tuum.—At Sea.—At. Helena.—Napoleon's Tomb.—Arrival in England.

I WAS booked to go home in H.M. Ship Calcutta, then at Bombay, coming round to start on her first voyage for Europe. She was expected in three weeks, but unfortunately for me, she astonished the people at Madras, making her appearance in thirteen days, and all ready to embark the troops. I made every effort to get down to the coast in time, but the fates were against me. A frightful storm overtook me. The Palkee boys put me down on the road in the middle of the night, and left me there helpless. When I gathered them next day, I pushed them on, not by whacks but by bribery, to get up quickly, and I was just in time to see the big ship spreading her wings to the wind and gliding away, homeward bound.

I lost my passage, and a thousand rupees into the bargain, for each officer got fifteen hundred rupees to provide for his messing, which only cost him five hundred.

I went back to my hot bed in the fort, and kept myself warm until the next ship was ready.

June 16th.—Embarked on board the Claudine, in command of the troops, and sailed for old England on the 19th, glad to get away home, but still I left the country with great regret, and a multitude of kind, generous, and hospitable friends behind me. There was great lamentation at our embarkation. Many of the men who had long served in the country were married to native women, and were now obliged to abandon them on the beach. It was quite painful to see the agonised feelings of these poor creatures, clapping their hands and crying bitterly, imploring to be taken on board. I must do the soldiers justice in saying they were all in grief, and left all their savings to those black wives whom they had taken for better or worse in the original state of marriage.

Most of the men were robbed by the boatmen in a dexterous way. They were taken across the surf to the ship as usual in Mussula boats. While the men were getting into the vessel, the boatmen broke into their little boxes, stole their money, fastened the lids of the boxes quickly, and had them nailed down, hoisted up, and the boats shoved off, before the discovery. The only fellow who saved his money was one who deserved to lose it. I found him drunk the previous evening and took his money, about one hundred rupees in gold, from him, and locked them both up separately for the night. I represented this robbery and plunder to the proper quarter before we sailed, but heard no more about it, the staff officer superintending being rather incredulous. How could ten black fellows, without a rag on their backs, open boxes and conceal property? Quite easily explained, as I told him. The bottom of each boat is strewed with thick brush-wood to keep the baggage dry. Here they conceal chisels for prizing up box-lids or trunks, and here they conceal the plunder. As the soldiers were taken into the ship, the boats dropped astern, and waited there with the baggage until all the troops had embarked. At this interval the disgraceful robberies were perpetrated, and many poor fellows lost their savings for many past long years of toil.

We had fourteen private passengers, and cleared away with a S.W. monsoon blowing hard, with thunder, vivid lightning, and rain; sea washing into the cuddy, making every one wretched. On to the end of June some frightful, squally weather; our little ship on her beam-ends, in the middle of a dark night, alarms landsmen; the ladies are in a forlorn condition, one of them, I believe, never went to bed; she was continually found walking about at night in a state of nervous alarm that could not be subdued. Up to the 12th July hard, squally, rough, cold weather, sea running mountains high; for three days no observation, never saw the sun, moon, nor stars. 15th to 19th. Very boisterous, cold, and rainy. 19th to 27th. Fine, sighted Point Natal, coast of Africa, and sailed along the coast to take advantage of the current, which runs rapidly along the bank round the Cape.

We have got up a lottery, which creates a little interest in this monotonous voyage. Calculating the time of arrival at St. Helena, say nineteen days, nineteen tickets were put in a bag and drawn by the subscribers; the person who holds the number of the day on which we anchor at the island wins the prize. 1st August. East of the Cape 160 miles; day fine and clear; while at dinner, three o'clock, the captain, always with one eye open, looked up at the barometer, went out hastily on deck and took in sail, came back and sat down; the day was very fine; he kept looking at the weather-glass and went again on deck, lowered the top-gallant mast and took in all sail, to our astonishment. All we could discover was a cloudy sky from the north-west, but before the dinner-cloth was removed the captain himself was at the helm, every man at his post, and every stitch of canvas close furled, we people in the caddy holding a death-grip of anything in our way. Great was the execution among the glass and crockery before it could be secured; the first sea that struck the ship was a broadside mountain of water that swept the decks quite clean of everything in its way—soldiers, women, children, jackalls, monkeys, birdcages, and a tiger in his box, which made him furious. The wind veered round right against us, and oh, how it did blow and rattle through the rigging! hatches all battened down, dead-lights in, storm-sails set, life-ropes laid along the deck, the sea lashing over us and down the companion ladder, flooding the cabins below, where traps of all sorts were knocking about all night, the ship pitching and rolling about in mountains of water. In this wretched position we laboured for nine days and nights, the little ship (450 tons) frequently under water and coming up like a duck, the troops below half drowned, and yet half smothered for want of air; the little space left open swallowed down tons of water: this was bailed out and filled again as quickly. It blew harder and harder day and night. I crawled out on deck on my hands and feet to look at this mighty, grand, awful scene of Divine power. It was terrific. 5th, 6th, and 7th. Blowing harder and harder.

8th.—Barometer still falling; nothing set but a storm trysail, the little bark kicking about like a cork, everybody appearing in danger of being injured; I was knocked against one of the iron knees in my cabin, and cut severely. The gale now increased ten-fold and bothered the captain and the cook, the former in a state of almost frenzy and alarm, the latter using all his ingenuity to get a big enough sea-pie for dinner. We had 190 souls below living like fish! Such helpless misery; but everything comes right in the end. The storm began to moderate on the 12th; on the 13th got sight of land, and found ourselves about six leagues from the coast of Africa, east of the Cape. 14th. Nearly a calm; wind sprung up from the S.E. right aft. O be joyful was visible in every eye, and away we went scudding along with every bit of canvas that the little duck of a ship could carry, doubling the Cape after all at eight knots an hour.

N.B.—Never undertake a winter voyage from India if you can avoid it. Leave Madras or Bengal in December or January, and leave England about the same time. A winter at sea is wretched enough without the chance of being shipwrecked into the bargain.

20th.—Fell in with the south-east trade winds, and rolled on to St. Helena at nine knots an hour. Mr. John Russell, one of our passengers, died to-day (a Collector on the Madras Establishment, going home on sick leave); he was so knocked about in the late frightful gales that he was unable to rally; his frail shell was committed to the deep, and although enough ballast was inclosed in his coffin, it floated on the surface, and was seen above water until we were out of sight on our way. He was a kind-hearted, generous fellow, of high caste family, and had been private secretary to the late Sir Thomas Munro.

We made the island of St. Helena at daybreak on the 26th of August. It presented to the eye an abrupt, barren rock, towering to the clouds, changing its appearance as we passed along under the most stupendous cliffs. Rounding Munden's Point, we were relieved by a pretty view of the town in James's Valley lying between two mountains called Rupert's Hill on the east and Ladder Hill on the west. We let go the anchor in twelve fathoms water, a sweet sound after being cooped up for sixty-eight days, with a plank between us and eternity. I lost my chance of the lottery prize by half an hour. I drifted ashore very quickly, and went to Saul Solomon's, a Hebrew boarding-house of long standing in the island, and so hospitable to all strangers. He only received your gold in return for civilities! Got some tiffin, and away to see all I could, and as fast as I could drive. My first exploit was to ascend Ladder Hill, up the ladder, 636 steps, almost perpendicular. There is a railway on each side of the ladder, for winding up the provision for the barracks above, where there is also a fountain of very delicious water. At the top I found a horse at a windlass, drawing up rations for the troops. The view is a grand one. There is an excellent school, and a flock of fifty fine healthy boys and girls, receiving a good plain education; also a good library and reading-room for the officers and soldiers, kept up by a subscription of 6d. per month. The officers have one table apart from the non-commissioned officers and privates. This is the corps of artillery; the infantry are stationed in the valley. I returned the zigzag way, a long roundabout down-hill, by a good road, with a parapet wall. Mules are most in use on the island, and it takes three of them tandem to take up a small load to the platform above. There are several very excellent shops. Solomon and Gideon keep a large supply of everything from all parts of the world at prime cost, i.e., six times the original cost of some things, and 700 per cent. for others. But then they live on a cinder on the ocean, and people homeward bound from India love to spend their money in St. Helena, where Bony died! Reconnoitered James town and the valley, until tired out, when I went on board for the night to look after my redcoats.

27th.—Had an early breakfast. Let a part of my men ashore for six hours, and proceeded at once myself to Bonaparte's grave. I cannot call it a tomb; that was denied the greatest general of the age, barring Wellington. Horses and mules were too expensive for a ride at 5s. an hour, so I made use of my legs. It was a long, hard pull up-hill, but the view is worth the labour. The roads are good, and cut out of the rock in many places. Every stone has the appearance of volcanic eruption. The hill sides are bare and barren until you arrive near the top, where you find plenty of pasture and sheep among the braes and yellow whin, very like Scotch scenery. Having gained the top of High Knoll, I descended by a small path loading to his grave, situated in a glen between two high hills, on a little green platform under a large willow-tree. Three plain, common slabs cover the dust of the great warrior—not one word to say who lies there. General Bertrand requested permission to have the word Emperor engraved on the slab, which was refused by his over strict jailor!

Madame Bertrand planted some forget-me-not flowers at his head, and bathed them with her tears—her last offering. It is a bonny green spot, and protected by an iron railing. An outer circle is formed by a wood paling, to keep hands off the willow tree. But the poor willow had already suffered very severely, every Johnny Newcome with a long arm stretched across the paling seized a relic, and those who did not succeed found plenty of the same family growing along the hedges! The slips put in a bottle of water survived the voyage, and were planted on English soil as the genuine article! Napoleon died on the 5th of May, 1821. He and Sir Walter Scott were born on the same day, 15th August, 1771, two great men in their very different spheres. The Emperor's body was opened on the 6th, in presence of six medical men, including Professor Antommarchi, his own physician. An ulcer in the stomach was the cause of his death. He had often declared that it was hereditary, and that his father died of it. His heart was preserved. The body lay in state two days, and was then placed in a leaden coffin, inclosed in two others. He was laid in full uniform, boots and spurs, with the Legion of Honour and all his orders on his breast. All the troops in the island attended his funeral procession. Three rounds from eleven guns terminated the last honours paid by great England to Napoleon Bonaparte!!

I bent my way to Longwood, and sat down, tired enough, in the room where this mighty warrior had finished his earthly career. They were threshing corn in this apartment, where I got a bit of bread and cheese and a glass of beer, to refresh the inward man. It would be a profitable old tumble-down place for the owner if his charges were equalized. I next visited the new house, Longwood, which had been finished and furnished before he died, but never occupied. He declined to take possession. It is a handsome square building. The house was quite empty, and showed symptoms of decay. Divine service is performed in this house on Sundays for the inhabitants in the Highlands. There is a little old house about 150 yards off, that was occupied by Count Bertrand and his wife, so as to be near their master. It was intended that they were to reside with Napoleon at Longwood, but the fact of a new house being built, was but a proclamation of a long captivity, and only sickened his life.

At two o'clock on Sunday, the 28th August, the anchor was tripped, and we glided out to sea. All canvas now spread, we were driving before the wind at eight knots.

September 1st.—Passed the Island of Ascension at ten knots, too fine a breeze to lose, and so we got no turtle.

5th.—Crossed the line once more, with a leading wind, 165 miles a day. Agreeably warm!

12th.—A dead calm for three days. Caught two sharks. Oppressively hot and suffocating.

19th.—Fell in with the north-east trades, in lat. 13° N., and went along at eight and nine knots for seven days, when we were left like a log on the water until 2nd October, when a breeze carried us on twenty miles and deserted the ship.

5th.—A south-west wind came along with the new moon, and chased us up at eight knots.

From 9th to 13th it blew a gale, but all the right way; ship like a washing-tub, mountains of water breaking over decks and down to the cabins. Passing the Western Islands a child was born, and I baptized it by name Claudine Flores, after the ship and the island close by.

18th.—Made the land of old England, and closed our voyage on the 23rd October at Gravesend.

24th.—Landed and marched to Chatham, having bean at sea 130 days.

CHAPTER III.

Government Inspection.—Route to Edinburgh.—Our Quarters.—En Route again.—Cape Diamond.—Country Life.—An Impromptu Dinner.—Lord Gosford.—A Fancy Ball—The Characters.— The Finale.

I WAS dreadfully disgusted at my new quarters; two wretched little rooms not fit for a dog-kennel, fitted up and furnished with four ricketty old chairs that paid barrack damages enough in their day to furnish a drawing-room; two small deal tables patched and impaired, very black from old age, and a smoky chimney; three rusty fire-irons of great antiquity, an old bellows and an iron candlestick completed the dwelling of a captain in the British army. I wished myself back in India a hundred times over.

The A. G. from the H. G., a very cranky old North Briton, came down without any notice to inspect the R. R. The men were in tatters, their accoutrements worn out by nearly twenty years' service instead of ten, when they ought to have been renewed. The breast-plates were polished bare and bright, no mark of the regiment left about them; all the better for the colonel of the corps: his off-reckonings or income from this source was nearly doubled. The old soldiers were seasoned old bricks and well bronzed, fit for anything but to appear before the A. G. of the British army. He found fault with everything. We were not the rosy-cheeked, well-dressed royal people he expected to see just so lately from the great empire of India, where pagodas grew on the trees, and everything was so rich and rare; we were found to be a ragged pack of redcoats not fit to live in England; and so an order came down in the night to be off in the morning to Edinburgh, two of her Majesty's ships of war being ready to take us away. Well, we had nothing for it but to obey orders, jump out of bed, and begin to pack up our traps hurry-scurry. I had some nice things I brought home with me, but they were nearly all smashed in this hasty, useless move. Ladies were left to shift for themselves and take the land route. We were all clear away from Chatham without our breakfast, baggage and all pitched into boats, and we going down the river to the ships on one of those charming, foggy mornings of November so very salubrious to the health, comfort, and convenience of soldiers, who are supposed to have nine lives and no feeling. The Galatea and the Stag took us on board and kept us there three days before the fog cleared off to let them see their way. In the meantime the captain of our ship, a jolly good fellow, offered me his cabin if I would go back and bring down my little family. I jumped at the offer; groped my way back just in time to catch them before they left Chatham. I have generally found that everything comes right in the end, and so it was here in spite of the many blessings poured out on Sir J. McD—it