Robert Craufurd: The Man & the Myth: The Life and Times of Wellington's Wayward Martinet

By Ian Fletcher

To most students of the Peninsular War the name Robert Craufurd evokes images of a battle-hardened martinet, flogging his men across Portugal and Spain, driving them hard and generally taking a tough stance against anything and everything that did not meet with his own strict disciplinarian code. But that is only a partial picture of this most complex character, and it is the other side of Craufurd’s personality that is revealed in this, the first full-length biography to be written in the last hundred years. Craufurd’s letters to his wife are published here for the first time, and they show that he was a far more interesting and varied man in his private life than he appeared to be on campaign. Ian Fletcher follows Craufurd’s controversial career from India, Ireland and South America to the Iberian Peninsula where he achieved immortality as one of Wellington’s finest generals.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: May 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781526775207

Ian Fletcher

Ian Fletcher is a Fellow of the International Napoleonic Society and a leading authority on the Peninsular War and Wellington’s army. Born in London in 1957, his first book, In Hell Before Daylight, was published in 1984, since when he has written or edited twenty-four others, including Galloping at Everything, The Crimean War: A Clash of Empires, and Wellington’s Regiments. He worked on the BBC’s Decisive Weapons series, the History Channel’s Line of Fire and Sharpe's War series and Channel 4's series Revolutionary Armies. He has also appeared on Russian and Ukrainian television as part of an award-winning 4-part documentary series on the Crimean War.

Book preview

Introduction

Robert Craufurd. Mention the name to students of the Peninsular War and it will probably conjure up images of a raging martinet, flogging his men wherever and whenever he could, brilliant one moment and then badly at fault the next, a dark, brooding character who polarised opinion and drove Wellington to distraction at times, but a man who died a hero’s death in 1812. But mention him as being a romantic, a man deeply in love with his wife, whom he missed terribly when on campaign, and a family man who was devoted to his children and you will probably be met with blank, puzzled stares. Both sides of Robert Craufurd’s character are perfectly true but it is the latter side that is rarely, if ever, mentioned in any history books and is something that can only be appreciated by reading his many romantic letters to his beloved wife Fanny.

Robert Craufurd was a troubled soul and was a man who said his life had passed in a kind of storm. This was very true, for in his career and his life generally, both private and public, he certainly endured some very turbulent times. Way back in 1991 I wrote a book about Robert and the Light Division which was, as the title suggests, mainly concerned with events during the Peninsular War. It was a fairly modest effort and was generally well received but it went nowhere near revealing the real story of Robert Craufurd the man, something that was only revealed to me after a chance meeting with Michael Spurrier MC, just after the book’s publication. Michael, who is sadly no longer with us, had married into the Craufurd family and as such had access to family records and, in particular, many of Robert’s letters to Fanny. Michael very kindly gave me copies of these letters, some containing the full text and others, rather frustratingly, just extracts. Even more frustratingly, Michael never told me where the originals were; not that it bothered me unduly, and as my book had just been published it was a bit too late anyway, although it did leave me feeling as though only half of Robert’s story had ever been told – until now. Many of the letters have since been tracked down to various archives, as have others which were not referred to by Michael. Many others remain in a private collection and therefore are cited as such in the bibliography. He also gave me copious notes on Robert’s ‘Standing Orders’ and on the early history of the Craufurd family. He did not, however, discover the truth about Robert’s place of birth and his early years, which is somewhat surprising.

Strangely, Robert’s letters had not even been published in the Reverend Alexander Craufurd’s biography of his grandfather, Craufurd and his Light Division, when it appeared in 1891. Passing reference was made to the letters and here and there a snippet or two included but nothing more. Perhaps Alexander Craufurd was keen to focus on his famous grandfather’s military career rather than Craufurd the man. Writing in the Preface to his 1891 work Alexander Craufurd wrote, somewhat ironically;

Being General Craufurd’s grandson and present representative, I have at all events a strong hereditary interest in the subject [i.e. Robert Craufurd], and I have also the advantage of an intimate acquaintance with letters and papers relating to the General’s private as well as his public life.

And yet he chose to ignore the majority of these private letters and relied instead on letters to and from the great military men of the age, like Sir John Moore and Wellington, and on anecdotal material from many of Robert’s contemporaries to tell his story rather than engage in any serious analysis of his career. He certainly missed an opportunity to show the lesser known side of ‘Black Bob’.

It was, however, not only the private side of Robert’s character that has emerged during the writing of this book, for there were other more alarming traits, such as the streak of madness that ran through the maternal side of the family. Indeed, Robert’s uncle, Charles Crokatt, committed suicide, his elder brother James attempted suicide early in life and was committed as a lunatic towards the end of it, while even Robert’s own mother, Jane, was committed in her later years, while still at a relatively young age. Robert himself suffered periods of deep depression, particularly during his later years, and there is no doubt that today he would be diagnosed as being ‘bi-polar.’ These facts were not a family secret. In fact, when Robert was given command of a force of reinforcements to be despatched to help the flagging campaign in the Rio de la Plata in 1806 questions were raised in parliament about his suitability, based upon the perceived insanity which ran through his family.

Robert was also deeply frustrated at his lack of advancement in the British army, largely due to a lack of funds. The purchase system certainly had its critics and was one which enabled wealthy officers to ‘get on’ – not forgetting that Sir Arthur Wellesley was one of them – whereas Robert had to suffer the ‘conspiracy of mediocrity’ and only made major general a few months before his untimely death in 1812. Robert’s deep financial woes could have been far worse had it not been for a £500 per annum allowance from his brother Charles, a man of position and, after marrying the widow of the Duke of Newcastle, steady wealth. But when Charles withdrew this allowance in 1811 following a personal setback which had nothing to do with his younger brother, Robert and Fanny’s financial situation crashed through the floor, leaving Robert to balance military affairs abroad and economic crisis at home, something which can hardly have been easy given his isolation and the constraints which nineteenth-century communications placed upon him. The Craufurd brothers had been extremely close and it is easy to imagine Robert’s feelings when his brother vented his anger upon him when they met for what was sadly to prove the last time. The reason for Charles’s pique was unknown to Robert at the time – it certainly had nothing to do with him – but this, along with yet another separation from Fanny when he returned to the Peninsula in April 1811, and the financial strain he took with him, only served to weigh massively on Robert’s often disturbed mind. His letters do indeed make for deeply depressing reading at times and it is little wonder that towards the end of his life he expressed hopes that he would be able to leave the army and return to England to be with his wife and children.

The letters also reveal that Robert suffered from defective eyesight and wore glasses at times, as he asked Fanny to send him a new pair while he was in Spain. This is also something which we hitherto didn’t know and may even explain one or two of his more erratic battlefield decisions! Finally, and perhaps most surprising, was discovering his true place of birth for this, like so much information nowadays, having been incorrectly stated in a recent alteration to Robert’s entry in the Dictionary of National Biography, has since filtered out (at the time of writing) into the world of the internet and has spread like a virus. The true facts are there as anyone who takes the trouble to look beyond the internet will see, but trying to change things when the entire world thinks otherwise is a real challenge and, indeed, only with time will we discover whether this has been achieved (in other words when the DNB, Wikipedia, the Mormons, etc., decide to change their existing records).

Robert’s military career took him to India, Austria, Ireland, Germany, Switzerland and South America but it is for his adventures during the Peninsular War at the head of the Light Division – and the Light Brigade before it – that he is chiefly remembered. ‘The Division’, as it was known, was created in 1810 from the old Light Brigade and became the most famous of Wellington’s divisions in the Iberian Peninsula, and save for a few months’ leave during the spring of 1811 Robert led his men through three years of dramatic and outstanding service; the harrowing retreat to Vigo through the snow-covered Galician mountains during the Corunna campaign, the forced march to Talavera beneath a blazing hot summer sun, the repulse of Loison’s division upon the ridge at Bussaco, and the dramatic rescue of Houston’s 7th Division at Fuentes de Oñoro. But the Light Division’s finest achievement came during the spring and summer of 1810 on the Coa and Agueda rivers. This initially involved holding over 400 square miles of country, forty miles from north to south and ten miles deep, along the Portuguese-Spanish border, in the face of constant pressure from the French army of Marshal Andre Masséna that was bent on invading Portugal. It was an operation that saw Robert and his division at their very best, but was one which involved them – and particularly Robert himself – in deep controversy.

We are fortunate that the Light Division, which Robert commanded from 1810 until 1812 – not forgetting the Light Brigade that preceded it – could count among its number some of the very best of the Peninsular War diarists including Rifleman Harris, John Kincaid, Harry Smith, James Cooke, Edward Costello, Jonathan Leach, George Simmons and, of course, the great historian of the Peninsular War himself, William Napier, who served in the 43rd Light Infantry. Attempting to glean a consensus of opinion on Robert from these fine correspondents is very difficult. Indeed, for every one of his admirers there was a detractor. He certainly polarised opinion. They either loved or hated him. It was the same throughout the army generally, particularly among the senior officers. Although Robert had many friends and admirers in the old Peninsular army, including Wellington himself (despite the commander-in-chief being driven to despair by him on occasions) there were others, such as the fiery Welshman, Sir Thomas Picton, who positively disliked him. But even his detractors could not hide their grudging admiration of him and his talents and achievements. It was what made Robert such an enigmatic figure. Robert Craufurd and the Light Division are inextricably entwined. His story was largely their story, at least for the years between 1810 and 1812 when ‘Black Bob’ was at their head. Through their letters and diaries we can follow his ‘career of earthly glory’, but perhaps the most important object of this book is to show Robert Craufurd the family man as well as the soldier, two very different characters, something which is only now revealed upon the publication of his own letters.

One of the great pleasures in researching this book was being able to travel in the footsteps of Robert Craufurd and the Light Division. Over the years my travels have taken me back and forth across the Iberian Peninsula many times, and even to Buenos Aires, but it was always to the border area between Ciudad Rodrigo and Almeida that I was drawn, on occasions too numerous to remember, in order to get a real insight into Robert’s operations in that memorable spring and summer of 1810. I’ve been over the ground more times than I care to remember, even spending three memorable nights in Fort Conception, now a very smart hotel, and with good friends also, friends off whom I have been able to bounce theories and ideas while they themselves have always been forthcoming with invaluable opinions and advice. There’s nothing quite like discussing the events of the Peninsular War while standing on the actual ground and one particular trip to the battlefield of the Coa in the summer of 2012 was especially rewarding. Goodness knows how many times we’d been there before (even in snow and ice in the winter of 2009), but armed with much new research the four-day examination of the area was particularly useful. My companions over the years have included Andy Browning, himself an avid collector of Light Division medals and a mine of good information, Phil Abbott, of the Royal Armouries Leeds, Roger Ansell, John Hodge, Richard Old, David Chantler, the late John Seabrook, Hugh Macdonald-Buchanan, and last but not least John Strecker, ‘the baron’, whose in-depth knowledge of the King’s German Legion has always been both invaluable and much appreciated. John’s knowledge of genealogy was also of great use in helping track down Robert’s real place of birth and his early movements around the environs of London. Phil Abbott was also kind enough to loan me the transcription of the Dawson Letters, which are housed in the archives of the Royal Armouries Leeds, while John Morewood, himself a mine of useful intelligence, sent me some useful material. Deborah Lewis and Sheila Wills were also very helpful in giving their opinion on various aspects of the book. Some of the original illustrations in this book, and also the line sketches on various pages, were done by Christa Hook, a wonderfully talented artist who has the knack of bringing the Light Division – and the Peninsular War generally – to life. Christa very skilfully filled the gaps where no other paintings exist of episodes in Robert’s life (and death). I’d also like to express my sincere gratitude to Nick Haynes, himself a former officer in the Royal Green Jackets. Nick was an enormous help to me and was extremely helpful with his opinions and advice and in carrying out research on my behalf, while his work and views on Robert’s depression and state of mind were invaluable. As a writer who has usually ‘gone it alone’ it made a welcome change to have Nick on hand to help push things along. Last but not least I’d like to thank Jim Royall for drawing the maps that accompany this book. As far as institutions go, I’d like to thank the staff of the British Library Manuscript Department, the Royal Armouries Leeds, Adrian Jones and Gina Hynard of the Hampshire Record Office, Richmond Library and Archives, the Essex County Records Office, and Rita Boswell of Harrow School. The staffs of all these institutions were of great help during the course of my research. Finally, I should like to thank the late Michael Spurrier who gave me copies of the Craufurd letters. I well remember him shrugging his shoulders and saying, ‘the best place for these is probably the waste paper bin.’ Hopefully, I’ve proved him wrong. I also hope that all of this has helped alter the public perception of Robert Craufurd.

Chapter 1

First Steps

Our story of Robert Craufurd could almost begin with the immortal words, ‘once upon a time’, as it starts way back in antiquity, prior to the Norman invasion of 1066, when Robert’s ancestors were living in the bleak, windswept but ruggedly beautiful border region between England and Scotland. Life was hard enough but the arrival of the Normans brought about great change, with harsh policies being inflicted upon the English by William the Conqueror that forced many families, the Craufurds included, to move further north into Scotland. In those days the name was spelt ‘Crawford’ and it was John Crawford who possessed the northern part of the barony way back in 1153. By the beginning of the fourteenth century the name had reverted to ‘Craufurd’ and it has remained so ever since.¹ The name is known to have derived from ‘Craufurde’, an upper ward of Clydesdale, and according to Celtic etymology is a word that meant a passage for cattle. The family, which had settled in Ayrshire, was not a particularly wealthy one nor was it a family without its troubles. Indeed, Sir Reginald Craufurd (also called Sir Reginald de Crawford) had been executed at Carlisle by the English in 1307 following his capture at the Battle of Loch Ryan in February of that year, while a family connection linked the Craufurds to the Loudons, another notable Ayrshire family, from which came the Scottish patriot Sir William Wallace who was executed by the English in 1305.

It seems that in these wild old days the Craufurds were forever feuding with their neighbours and cattle raids and forays appear to have been the habitual pastime of the family. One particularly prolonged feud appears to have taken place between the Craufurds and the Kennedys, to whom the barony of Newark belonged at the end of the sixteenth century. The first mention of a Craufurd as being ‘in possession’ of Newark Castle comes in 1602 when Duncan Craufurd is recorded as living there. In 1687 the castle was purchased by James Craufurd and his wife Anna, a Kennedy, the old feud having been finally resolved.² When James died the castle passed into the hands of Quentin Craufurd and his wife Ann, and it was to them that two sons were born; the eldest, also named Quentin, about whom we shall hear more later, and Alexander, and it is at this point that our story can really be said to begin as Alexander was the father of the subject of this book, Robert Craufurd.

Alexander’s father held the office of His Majesty’s Justiciary Baillie for the West Seas of Scotland, a position that brought him and his family to London from time to time, and it was on one such trip that Alexander almost certainly acquired a taste for the capital. Quentin Craufurd died in 1749 and although there is no record of Alexander having also held his father’s office, he had evidently established enough contacts in London for him to spend much time there and in relatively influential company. One particularly notable acquaintance was the notorious gambler and rake, William Douglas, 4th Duke of Queensberry (and Earl of March), otherwise known as ‘Old Q’, and it was probably Douglas, a fellow Scot and kinsman of Craufurd, who encouraged Alexander to remain in England permanently. It is also safe to assume that London was a more appealing place to live than Scotland in the wake of the 1745 Jacobite Rebellion, the repercussions of which were still being felt north of the border. Alexander evidently enjoyed living in London for, tired of life in Scotland and seeking greater pleasures, he decided to leave his native country for good and instead took up residence permanently in London.

At this point in the story of Robert Craufurd we must leave Georgian London for the American colonies and South Carolina in particular, for it was to this colony that James Crokatt, himself a Scot, had emigrated in 1728. Born in Edinburgh in 1701, James Crokatt was a wealthy and very influential figure in the Anglo-American economic history of the late eighteenth century and, indeed, has been described as ‘probably the wealthiest and certainly the most prominent figure in the London-South Carolina trading axis before the Revolution.’³ Operating out of his premises in Charles Town Crokatt soon established himself as the foremost merchant in the Carolinas, trading in all kinds of goods but studiously avoiding anything to do with slavery. He married Esther Gaillard, who herself had links to some of the most prominent and influential planters, and the couple had two children; Charles, born in 1730, and Mary in 1733. A third child, James, died in infancy in 1736. In June 1739 Crokatt left South Carolina and returned to Britain a wealthy man, setting up a new venture in London’s Coleman Street before moving to Cloak Street in 1747. He and Esther also had four more children: James, Daniel, David and, more important as far as our story goes, Jane. It is not absolutely clear where Crokatt chose to make his home upon returning to England but as his son James was baptised at St Magdalene’s Church, Richmond, on 29 September 1746,⁴ it is safe to assume it was in Richmond. However, in 1749 Crokatt paid Robert Knight, Baron Luxborough, £19,500 for a grand country estate, Luxborough House in Chigwell, Essex, which had been built by Knight’s father, also named Robert, the notorious cashier of the South Sea Company.⁵ In addition to Luxborough House itself – upon which Crokatt spent a further £10,000 in repairs – the estate included eighteen acres of gardens, and forty-three acres of pasture. Also included in the freehold of the estate were six farms covering 520 acres, which brought in around £575 rent each year. A further indication of Crokatt’s wealth was that he commissioned the artist Thomas Gainsborough to paint his son Charles’s wedding, while giving Charles himself a gift of £10,000. James Crokatt was, therefore, a very wealthy man indeed.⁶

Despite his wealth – or perhaps because of it – Crokatt shunned all attempts to draw him into politics, twice turning down offers to become an alderman of two of London’s City wards. He did, nevertheless, accept the governorship of the Foundling Hospital for poor children as well as a directorship of the Magdalene Hospital for penitent prostitutes. He was, by all accounts, a remarkably benevolent man and made donations to the Marine Society, which funded boys to join the Royal Navy, and gave £1,000 to the Free British Fishery Society.⁷ He also maintained links with the South Carolina merchants and was almost single-handedly responsible for persuading the British government to pay them a subsidy for the production of indigo, an important crop in the late eighteenth century.⁸

Like many wealthy men of the age James Crokatt and his wife Esther moved in very select circles and one assumes his daughter Jane accompanied her parents to society events such as balls and parties, the theatre or other functions, and it was at one such society function that Jane was introduced to Alexander Craufurd.⁹ A romance duly blossomed between the couple and in May 1760 they were married, initially taking up residence in Chigwell, presumably so that Jane could be close to her father.¹⁰ Furthermore, Jane was hardly likely to exchange her comfortable environment at home, with all the trappings that a lady of substance could expect, for a life in a remote Scottish castle. In fact, the ancient seat of Craufurd’s family, Newark Castle, was actually being occupied at the time by David Kennedy, the future (in 1775) 10th Earl of Cassilis. Upon his mother Ann’s advice Alexander had already sold some of the Craufurd estate to David’s brother, Thomas Kennedy, the 9th Earl of Cassilis, in 1762 and as Alexander was bent on leaving Scotland for good now that he was married to Jane it made sense to him to sell Newark Castle soon afterwards. Having duly sold the castle Alexander used the proceeds to buy the Grenville Vale estate in Grenada, which had been surrendered to Britain by the French during the latter stages of the Seven Years’ War, which yielded an income of around £2,000 per annum.¹¹ Thus, Newark Castle, the alleged birthplace of Robert Craufurd, had in fact been sold to David Kennedy even before Robert was born.¹² When David succeeded to the title of 10th Earl of Cassilis in 1775 he inherited the family seat at Culzean Castle, but it is said he much preferred Newark Castle and so continued to live there instead.¹³

Initially, Alexander and Jane lived in Chigwell, although it is not clear whether the couple lived in Luxborough House itself, as James Crokatt had also purchased the lease of Chigwell Rectory and it is entirely possible that they lived here for a while.¹⁴ While living in Chigwell Alexander and Jane had five children, although their second son Charles was born in London’s Golden Square in the Soho district. But at some point around 1767 the family moved to Richmond, Surrey, taking up residence at number 9, The Vineyard, a very elegant and select road. Once there Alexander renamed the house ‘Newark House,’ presumably in belated acknowledgement of his Scottish ancestry. A further six of Alexander and Jane’s children were born here.¹⁵ It is not clear why Alexander chose to move to Richmond but it may have been on the recommendation of his friend, ‘Old Q,’ the Duke of Queensbury, who owned a large house there where he did much of his entertaining. Richmond was (and still is) a desirable residence during the latter years of the eighteenth century and had been ever since Henry VII had built a palace there in 1500. The town, situated on the banks of the Thames, boasted some very fine Georgian streets and houses and made an ideal retreat for the rich and famous. There is also the possibility that the house in The Vineyard may have been the house in which James Crokatt lived upon his return to England in 1739.

Alexander and his family quickly settled into life in Richmond and in 1767 they were joined by Jane’s father, James Crokatt, who had sold Luxborough House and moved back to Richmond, almost certainly to be close to his daughter Jane and his growing number of grandchildren.¹⁶ James Crokatt had sold Luxborough House to Sir Edward Walpole, who subsequently sold the house to Samuel Peach, who appears not to have lived there long, for he soon afterwards conveyed it to Admiral Sir Edward Hughes, an eminent naval officer who made it his country house. Hughes’s widow continued to live there after his death in January 1794 but she had it demolished in 1796.¹⁷ James Crokatt himself continued to live in Richmond until his death in March 1777.¹⁸

As far as our story is concerned the most important of Alexander and Jane’s children was the future commander of Wellington’s Light Division, Robert, who was born in Chigwell at nine o’clock in the morning of 5 May 1764 and christened exactly one month later at St Mary’s Church, Chigwell.¹⁹ Robert was the third eldest of the boys, James being the first born and Charles the second. Perhaps because of his position as eldest son and heir to the baronetcy of Kilbirnie, which was created in 1781, James appears to have had few dealings with Robert later on. Save for one notable exception he certainly never appears in many of the letters written or received by him, whereas Robert and Charles were extremely close, probably because of their similar chosen careers as soldiers.

Contrary to popular legend, it is certain that Robert Craufurd was born in Chigwell, probably at Luxborough House where his mother could call upon the services of the household staff, and it is equally certain that he spent his formative years at the house in The Vineyard, Richmond. In 1776, at the age of twelve, Robert followed in his two older brothers’ footsteps and attended Harrow, where he spent three years, leaving in 1779.²⁰ It is impossible to say whether he knew any of his contemporaries at Harrow but they included Harry Calvert, the future Adjutant General, Spencer Perceval, who would become prime minister during the Peninsular War (and who to date has the unfortunate distinction of being the only British prime minister to be assassinated), Coote Manningham, co-founder of the Experimental Corps of Riflemen, and even Robert Brudenell, the father of the notorious future 7th Earl of Cardigan who led the ill-fated Charge of the Light Brigade during the Crimean War.²¹ It must have been an interesting time to say the least. Like his two brothers, Robert is listed in the school register as being the son of Alexander Craufurd of Berkeley Square, his father having bought a house at number 24. James Craufurd went on to study at Oxford and would subsequently embark on a career in politics, whereas Robert and Charles both went on to pursue careers in the army. James entered Oxford in 1779, being listed as the son of ‘Alexander Craufurd of Chigwell,’²² which is further proof of Robert’s English background. Indeed, it was only on 8 June 1781, when Robert was seventeen years old, that his father was created 1st Baron Craufurd of Kilbirnie,²³ probably as a result of his friendship with the Duke of Queensbury and through his wife’s possible friendship with the queen. It is under this title that Alexander regularly appears in all books on British peerage and is the reference that has caused so many historians to believe that Robert and his brothers must have been born in Newark Castle, whereas as we have seen, Alexander had sold the castle before Robert was born. Not only did Alexander have the house at number 24 Berkeley Square, which would become Robert’s residence when he was a member of parliament,²⁴ but he had also purchased a house in Hereford Street, Mayfair, and appears there as Sir Alexander Craufurd, Bt.²⁵

With his three years at Harrow now at an end Robert looked to the future and in 1780, shortly after his sixteenth birthday, an entry in the London Gazette of 6 May lists him as ensign in the 26th Foot,²⁶ which had returned from North America in February of that year after twelve years’ service there. In fact, such had been the rigours of campaign life that only the regimental staff under Captain William Myers returned to England to raise a new force, while the remaining rank and file were transferred into other units still serving in North America. It must have been a useful experience for Robert, a young officer who was keen to learn his craft, having access to officers with great experience, not just of active service, but active service against an enemy that had often employed very different tactics to those which the British army had been used to facing. Indeed, when Sir John Moore began his training of British light infantry regiments at Shorncliffe Camp near Folkestone in 1803 his own experience of facing irregular tactics in North America proved invaluable. The views of the returning officers of the 26th would not have been lost on Craufurd either, particularly given his future relationship with light infantry.

But for now Robert and his fellow officers had to concentrate on raising and training new recruits for the 26th. By the end of 1780 the regiment had grown to 204 men and was based in Tamworth, Staffordshire, before being moved to Shrewsbury where by the end of 1781 it had increased to 336. Although still rather weak in strength, a fact not helped by the number of men away recruiting, the 26th was reviewed on 2 December by the Inspecting Officer, Lord Adam Gordon, himself a former colonel of the regiment. While he noted the ‘good appearance’ of the officers he recognised that it would take some time before the regiment was fit once again for service overseas:

The regiment has been about eighteen months at home, after serving near fourteen years in North America. It returned perfectly worn out, and will take at least two years, before it can be re-formed fit for service.

²⁷

In January 1782 the regiment, now numbering around 400, arrived at Tynemouth Barracks where it was to remain until March the following year.²⁸ The regiment was reviewed once again by Gordon on 20 August 1782, at which the results of Robert’s efforts and those of his brother officers were clearly seen. The officers were, according to the report, ‘a handsome corps, very uniform, attentive, and know their duty.’ Gordon continued:

This Regiment is much improved since last year. The recruits in general are good for the times and all possible pains have been taken by Lieutenant Colonel Stuart [the colonel] and all the officers, the Corps of which is remarkably good, they do their business well; and as far as their numbers go they may be employed on any service.

²⁹

Robert continued to serve with the 26th until the end of 1782 when, having been promoted to captain and still a few months short of his nineteenth birthday, he went on half-pay.³⁰ The reason for him doing so was quite simple; he wished to complete his military education. The problem was there was no equivalent of the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst at the end of the eighteenth century and while there was a Royal Military Academy at Woolwich, affectionately known as ‘The Shop,’ it was only for officers of the Royal Artillery and Royal Engineers. There was no similar establishment for the cavalry or infantry. Therefore, any diligent young officer wishing to further his knowledge of the military arts was forced to travel to the Continent.³¹

Robert travelled to the Continent with his brother Charles, spending the next five years in Germany, principally at Dresden, Strasburg, Göttingen and Magdeburg, and it was during his time in Germany that Robert took up studying both German and French. He also studied military engineering, became a proficient military draughtsman, studied strategy and military history and took a great interest in artillery. But perhaps the most useful aspect of their time in Germany, certainly as far as Charles was concerned, was their meeting with the fourth son of King George III, Prince Edward, Duke of Kent, who had been sent by his father in 1785 to study at the University of Göttingen.³² The prince subsequently studied at Lüneburg instead and later at Hanover, but at some point during this time Prince Edward met the two Craufurd brothers, something which would certainly benefit Charles later on. Indeed, when Prince Edward was sent to Gibraltar in 1790 Charles accompanied him as his equerry.

In addition to their academic studies the Craufurd brothers took themselves off on a tour of Frederick the Great’s battlefields. Although now in his twilight years Frederick the Great had been the most dominant military figure of mid-eighteenth century Europe, achieving a host of victories during the Seven Years’ War, and the chance to study the ground upon which some of these victories were achieved was eagerly grasped by Robert and Charles who could now apply theory to practice. Indeed, their dedication to their chosen careers is perhaps reflected in a letter from Charles Craufurd to Sir Robert Murray Keith, British Minister in Vienna, whose acquaintance the brothers had made:

For as we intend to stay in the Army till the hour of our death and are most ambitious to rise and distinguish ourselves in so glorious a profession, we are determined to take every method to instruct and fit ourselves for what we wish to be.

³³

Good English language military manuals were in short supply in the eighteenth century but as the two brothers’ studies continued so did their grasp of both French and German, so much so that they were able to read any of the many military manuals and textbooks written in those languages that were essential reading for any young officer determined to further his military career. But the highlight of their five-year stay in Germany came when they received personal invitations from Frederick the Great to assist in what were to prove the last three of his great annual reviews in 1783, 1784 and 1785. For two young English officers to receive invitations was indeed a great honour. In fact, the last review, held in 1785, the year before Frederick’s death, was attended by such senior British officers as the Duke of York, Sir David Dundas, Charles Cornwallis and Gerard Lake.

Frederick the Great died in 1786 and the following year Robert and Charles set to work translating Tielke’s great work on Frederick’s campaigns, An Account of Some of the Most Remarkable Events of the War between the Prussians, Austrians and Russians from 1756 to 1763 and a Treatise on Several Branches of the Military Art with Plans and Maps. It says much for their proficiency in the German language that they were able to translate two volumes, which were published in 1787. Tielke’s work not only contained accounts of some of Frederick the Great’s battles but was also a treatise on strategy and tactics, containing valuable advice for officers. Indeed, one section in particular is worth noting:

Place your infantry and artillery so that they can sweep the whole face of the height with their fire – continue this fire until the enemy near you (perhaps within twenty or thirty paces, according to circumstances), then make a vigorous attack upon him with bayonets, which as he is tired and out of order with ascending the height, you fresh and in possession of the advantage of ground, will probably succeed.

³⁴

As we shall see later on, it was just such a tactic which Robert used to great effect during the Battle of Bussaco on 27 September 1810. The two volumes did much to raise the profile of the Craufurd brothers within military circles but with a modest list of subscribers it proved to be far from a commercial success. But perhaps the most significant effect, not only of his work on the book but also of the five years of studying military art generally, was the influence which the Prussian system had on Robert. Indeed, the reputation which he would gain in the future as an iron disciplinarian, applying harshness and a strict code of conduct generally to officers and rank and file alike, was borne of the time he spent in Germany and the influence of Frederick’s system which relied a good deal on the lash. Discipline in the British army was harsh enough, and was certainly maintained largely by the liberal use of the lash, but Robert would acquire an unfortunate reputation and earn the sobriquet ‘Black Bob’ for resorting to it unsparingly and, as we shall see during the Corunna campaign in 1808–09, often in extraordinary circumstances.

The Craufurd brothers returned to England in 1787. Robert was now twenty-three years old and possessed a military education far superior to the majority of his contemporaries. He also spoke fluent German, a skill that would stand him in good stead during the Peninsular War when he worked with units of the King’s German Legion.³⁵ But for all of his newly acquired skills Robert was still to be left frustrated during the coming years, a frustration made all the more acute by him having to watch less gifted officers, with influence and funds, be promoted over him. It was a situation best described by Willoughby Verner:

It can easily be imagined that an officer with so thorough a military education was rare in the British Army in those days, and it is highly probable that the knowledge he possessed did not make him very tolerant of the mass of uneducated officers around him, and in later years may have accounted for his bitterness at seeing them steadily promoted over him, and an early example of ‘the conspiracy of mediocrity’ under which so many of the best men in our Army have suffered so many years past.

³⁶

Robert’s situation was not helped either by the poor state of the British army towards the end of the eighteenth century, a situation brought about by poor pay and conditions, low morale and discipline, by the relationship between the army and a population always wary of a standing army, and by the abuse of the Purchase System.³⁷ Indeed, recruitment was often difficult, with the government resorting to the use of ‘crimps’ to procure recruits. This practice was very similar to the ‘press-gang’ practice operated by the Royal Navy. Indeed, the Recruiting Acts of 1778 and 1779 allowed for such a system and although both Acts were subsequently repealed in 1780 the damage had been done. The British government also introduced an ‘incentive scheme’ for imprisoned criminals who would be allowed early release on condition that they joined the army. Taking into account these factors it is not difficult to imagine the quality of the individuals who were being recruited or even forced into the ranks of the British army.³⁸ The Industrial Revolution in Britain also had a negative effect on recruitment, for although working conditions in many towns and cities were poor the rates of pay compared more than favourably with those in the army. Given the choice of a good wage in a factory, dockyard or as a labourer and a low wage and bad conditions in the British army it was, for most, an easy decision. Neglect by the government was equally to blame for the situation, while reduction in numbers following the war with America and with Tipu Sultan in India was another great evil, the two Acts of 1778 and 1779 allowing all those men who had enlisted for three years to leave the service whether their time was up or not. Indeed, not even a generous bounty offered by the government could tempt them back. In fact, by 1783 the strength of the British army stood at a dangerously low 50,000, including around 10,000 on the Irish Establishment.³⁹ But for many officers, and for men like Robert Craufurd in particular, the abuses of the Purchase System ranked high on the list of ills. Critics of the system point to the number of buffoons that were allowed to buy their way into the army and finance their progress afterwards. Lord Cardigan, of Balaklava notoriety, for example, is universally held up as an example of why the system was a bad one. However, it was a system which allowed skilled, intelligent officers, such as the future Duke of Wellington, to progress. The career of Robert Craufurd would certainly have progressed much quicker had he had access to sufficient funds.⁴⁰ The often ridiculous system, which allowed wealthy fops to buy their way up the ladder, was nicely summed up by no less a person than Sir Walter Scott, when writing about the reforms brought about by the Duke of York when he became Commander-in-Chief in 1798;

In the first place, our system of purchasing commissions, itself an evil in a military point of view, and yet indispensible to the freedom of the country, had been stretched so far as to open the way to every form of abuse. No science was ever required; no service, no experience whatsoever; the boy, let loose from school the last week, might in the course of a month, be a field officer, if his friends were disposed to be liberal of money and influence. Others there were, against whom there can be no complaint for want of length of service, although it might be difficult to see how their experience was improved by it. It was no uncommon thing for a commission to be obtained for a child in the cradle; and when he came from college, the fortunate youth was at least a lieutenant of some standing, by dint of fair promotion. To sum up this catalogue of abuses, commissions were in some instances bestowed upon young ladies, when pensions could not be had.

⁴¹

In short, the British army was in a sad state when Robert and Charles returned to England in 1787. Fortunately for Robert, a deteriorating situation in India prised open the window of opportunity once more. A new chapter in his life was about to begin.

Chapter 2

Monsoon

Even as Robert was on his way back from Germany to England trouble was brewing in India between the British East India Company and Tipu Sultan, ruler of the kingdom of Mysore. Like his father, Hyder Ali, Tipu Sultan had fought against the British East India Company and their allies, the Marathas, in the First Anglo-Mysore War from 1766 to 1769, and the Second Anglo-Mysore War from 1780 to 1784. The second of these wars had ended with the signing of the Treaty of Mangalore, although the ink was barely dry when Tipu, emboldened by having France as an ally and by his successes during the second war, announced his intention to strike once again at the first favourable opportunity at the British whom he hated with a passion. Ironically enough, the opportunity could be said to have been presented to him by the newly arrived Governor General of India, General Lord Charles Cornwallis, the veteran of many a campaign including the recent War of American Independence.¹ For one of the first acts by Cornwallis upon arrival in India was to cancel an existing agreement between Britain and Nizam Ali and the Marathas whereby troops from the British East India Company would support Nizam in any future conflict between the Marathas and Tipu Sultan, Tipu and his father having fought many a campaign against them. The cancellation of the agreement could be said to have been an open invitation to Tipu to plan a new offensive.

In preparation for a renewal of war Tipu set about the general improvement of his army, strengthening forts and stockpiling quantities of supplies that he hoped would carry him and his army into the lands of his enemies. Judging from his own proclamations, confidence was one commodity he was not lacking, as one contemporary historian wrote:

Confiding in his superior power and talents, and aiming at universal conquest, this active Prince not only disclaimed the paramount authority of the Emperor of Delhi, and declared himself to be the greatest king on earth, but also, like the founder of his religion, pretending to be endowed as a prophet, announced himself to be the restorer of the Mahommedan [sic] faith. He sent forth proclamations inviting all true Mussulmen to join his standard; and thus, to the advantages of military discipline, adding the enthusiasm of military discipline, declared his intention to drive the European infidels out of India, and to extend the empire of Mahommed [sic] over the world.²

The challenge to British interests in India from Tipu was bad enough but when the French too began to stir themselves it was clear that measures would have to be taken in order to meet the threat. Indeed, the British government learned with some alarm that emissaries from Tipu had actually travelled to Paris in early 1787 and had been accorded a very warm welcome by their prospective allies. In response, the British government declared its intention to raise four new regiments for service in India, a move which was welcomed by the East India Company. What was not welcomed by the Company was the government’s announcement that the cost of raising and transporting the four regiments to India would be borne by the East India Company itself. Naturally enough this drew great opposition from the Company, while its supporters in parliament did their best to thwart the act. Indeed, when peace looked likely once more – Tipu had yet to make any offensive move – the Company changed its mind over the necessity of raising the four regiments and even went so far as to refuse them permission to set sail for India. But the argument was lost, the four regiments were raised and a proper garrison for Britain’s East Indian possessions created, all of this at the expense of the East India Company.

The raising of the four new regiments – the 74th, 75th, 76th and 77th – gave Robert the opportunity he had been waiting for. At the time of his return from Germany he was still officially listed as having been on half-pay with the 101st Regiment, but on 6 October 1787 he was gazetted to a company of the 33rd on full pay. However, a few weeks later, on 1 November,³ Robert transferred into the 75th Highlanders having learned that it was one of the four regiments being raised for service in India.⁴

Command of the 75th Regiment and responsibility for raising it was given to Colonel Robert Abercromby, son of the Laird of Tullibody,⁵ but although he called upon some influential family heads in Scotland he did little himself to assist in the actual business of recruitment. Nevertheless, recruiting men for the regiment appears to have been much easier in Scotland than it was in England. According to the historian of the 75th the Highlander ‘disliked manual labour, and though a man who claimed gentle blood despised mercantile pursuits, he did not consider it derogatory to be an innkeeper, a drover, or a soldier; thus, men of a superior class often enlisted in the Highland regiments.’⁶ Recruiting for the 75th in England, however, proved a much more tiresome business. In fact, so desperate had the situation become that leave was given to accept prisoners from Gloucester jail, dismissed seamen and even out-pensioners from Chelsea Hospital.⁷ Nevertheless, the regiment was officially embodied at Stirling, apparently because it was close to Abercromby’s home at Tullibody, and almost immediately it moved to London.⁸ It embarked for India in March 1788, arriving in Bombay in August of that year. The question of whether Robert joined the regiment in England or Scotland cannot be safely answered, for there is no record to suggest either. Given the fact that there were six weeks between the date of Robert’s transfer to the 75th on 1 November 1787 and its embodiment at Stirling it is possible that he travelled north of the border to join the regiment, in which case this was probably the only occasion when he travelled to the land of his ancestors. It is equally possible, however, that he joined the regiment once it reached London, for this was not unusual practice.

Robert may well have been frustrated by the lack of opportunity prior to joining the 75th but upon arrival in India in August 1788 a twist of fate meant that, at the tender age of twenty-four, he found himself in command of the regiment. The situation had arisen following Colonel Abercromby’s appointment as Governor of Bombay, and as Lieutenant Colonel James Hartley and Major George Hart were appointed to the staff, this left Robert as ‘eldest Captain’, and thus in command of the regiment. Recognising this, Abercromby had seen to it that Robert was gazetted to senior captain in the East India Company in order to get him command. Hartley was already in the pay of the East India Company and appears to have played little part in the running of the regiment, while the next senior officer, Hart, was acting as aide-de-camp to General Sir William Medows, Commander-in-Chief of the Bombay army. And so it fell to Robert as senior captain to set about turning the regiment into a trained, disciplined fighting force which, considering the standard of many of the recruits, was not going to be easy. The regiment was woefully short of NCOs, was below strength anyway and even lacked pipes and drums, essential equipment for a Scottish regiment.⁹

However, it was too late for recriminations now. Robert was in command of the 75th and was responsible for its training, a task he set about with relish. Unfortunately, his methods did not go down too well within the regiment. Coming so soon after his sojourn in Germany Robert was still gripped by what he had read and seen of the Prussian system which was based on fear and iron discipline. It may well have been practice in the armies of Frederick the Great but it sat uneasily in the ranks of King George III’s army. Nevertheless, Robert duly set about drilling his men but quickly attracted criticism for his harsh methods;

During the first eighteen months, this Corps [the 75th] remained in quarters preparing under a sharp discipline for subsequent campaigns. This system was carried into effect by one of the captains who commanded in the absence of the field officers. He was an able and intelligent officer; but he had been educated in a school in which he had imbued ideas of correctness which required no small strength of mind to enforce, and which when enforced with severity tended to break the spirit of the soldiers to a degree which no perfection in movement can ever compensate…In the system of the officer in question, which was formed on the old Prussian model, fear was the great principle of action.¹⁰

The criticism that Robert was using the tough Prussian model may well be justified but it should come as no surprise given the evidently poor quality of recruits, which included the prisoners from Gloucester jail, sailors who had been dismissed from the service and out-pensioners from Chelsea Hospital. One can only wonder at the wisdom of allowing these out-pensioners to join the regiment given the heat and the generally unpleasant conditions in India. It is little wonder, therefore, that Robert had to resort to harsher than usual methods to get the regiment into shape.

The 75th remained at Bombay for several months, Robert continuing to drill his men, pushing them hard with unremitting zeal, but his methods polarised opinion. For each soldier who recognised the necessity of Robert’s harsh methods there was another who condemned them. Robert’s conduct in India, or rather the unpopular methods he used to train the regiment, and the criticisms and polarisation he drew upon himself as a result would appear to have set the tone for the rest of his military career. One practice seems to have drawn particular criticism. In Bombay another British regiment, the 73rd, drilled early in the morning and were never to be found on the parade ground after midday when the sun was at its hottest. They were also allowed to wear cotton trousers and jackets at their evening parade. Compare this to the 75th, which Robert continued to drill long after the sun was at its most powerful, the men being forced to wear full dress at evening parade.

While his contemporaries almost universally criticised Robert for his methods and the effects they had on the regiment, they were invariably forced to admit that his methods paid off. As one observer put it, ‘The Regiment remained stationary for several months in Bombay, where it attained that perfect degree of discipline which enabled it to prove so formidable to its enemies in the Campaigns which were soon to put its perfection to test.’¹¹ Another was moved to write:

Whatever means he [Robert] may have pursued in the system he adopted, he was equally rigid in the impartial justice he rendered to those under his orders. He was indefatigable in his own exertions, shared in the toils to which officers and soldiers were exposed, and was ever at their head in cases of danger.¹²

The improvement in the regiment was noted by General William Medows, the recently-appointed commander of the Madras army, when he inspected the 75th on 4 January 1790. ‘The 75th Regiment are much improved,’ his report stated, ‘improving rapidly, and are now though so young a corps, as far as their numbers go, in all respects very fit for service.’¹³ Robert was still in command and the return reveals an interesting breakdown in age, experience and numbers of the regiment. The return shows a total of 459 all ranks under arms in the 75th, with twenty-one absent on duty, eighty-five sick and six absent on leave. The return also revealed that half of the regiment were under the age of twenty-one and almost 75 per cent had less than five years’ military experience.¹⁴ The statistics are interesting inasmuch as they suggest that the number of men recruited from Gloucester jail and from Chelsea Hospital was perhaps lower than various reports suggested. Shortly after the inspection Colonel Hartley returned to the regiment and a new, more relaxed and softer system was introduced. Much of the necessity for punishment also ceased. As one historian pointedly put it, ‘the men became more quiet and regular, and in every respect better soldiers.’¹⁵ Thus, by the beginning of 1790 the 75th, while not having reached the level of perfection expected of King George’s army, had nevertheless improved greatly under Robert’s stern and constant drilling, which was just as well as the simmering military situation in southern India was about to reach boiling point.

Once again Tipu Sultan was at the centre of events. At the beginning of 1789 he had been forced to deal with a rebellion on the Malabar coast, many of the fugitives subsequently taking refuge in the neighbouring kingdom of Travancore, which Tipu had long coveted for himself. The fugitives were assisted en route by the Rajah of Cochin, a state which paid tribute to Tipu, so naturally it was an action which enraged him, so much so that he began to muster his forces for an attack on the lines of Travancore, an earthwork fortification which ran north-eastwards for about thirty miles from the island of Vipeen, a long narrow strip of land on the Cranganore estuary. However, one of the problems for Tipu was that Ayacotta, a settlement at the northern end of Vipeen, and Cranganore itself were both Dutch settlements. When threats of military action fell upon deaf ears Tipu attempted to solve the problem by offering to purchase the two settlements from the Dutch. One can easily imagine his outrage, therefore, when he learned that the Rajah of Travancore had outwitted him by purchasing both places himself. Another problem for Tipu was intervention by British troops. Indeed, when he had made moves against Travancore in 1788 he was warned by the then Governor of Madras, Sir Archibald Campbell, that any move by him against the Rajah of Travancore, a ruler with strong pro-British sentiments, would be regarded as a declaration of war. However, Campbell had since returned home to England. His successor, John Holland, was by all accounts inept, described by Fortescue as ‘a corrupt and incapable civilian,’¹⁶ and having few of the qualities possessed by Campbell. The fact was not lost on Tipu, who saw the perfect opportunity to take advantage of Holland’s weakness.

Throughout the late autumn of 1789 Tipu mustered around 35,000 troops at Coimbatore in preparation for the march south against Travancore. The concentration of such a strong force was not going to go unnoticed by the British, however, and it was not long before the news reached a somewhat alarmed Cornwallis who immediately sent orders to the Madras government, reiterating that any move against Travancore by Tipu should be regarded as an act of war and accordingly preparations should be made to face the threat. In the meantime Tipu marched south with around 14,000 of the force which he had gathered at Coimbatore and on 29 December he launched his attack. Unfortunately for Tipu it proved disastrous and his men were flung back with relative ease, suffering very heavy casualties in the process. It was all quite humiliating for him. Indeed, during the retreat he was apparently thrown into a ditch by his horse and was so enraged that he is said to have made an oath that he would never again wear his turban until the lines were taken.¹⁷

The defeat of Tipu’s forces on 29 December was only a temporary setback for the ruler of Mysore, however, for it was not long before he had regrouped in preparation for a renewal of the attack. Cornwallis, meanwhile, again sent orders to Holland, instructing him to step up preparations and to mobilise as many men as he could. But to his utter dismay and annoyance Cornwallis learned that John Holland had attempted to negotiate a peace with Tipu. It was all too much for a furious Cornwallis who decided there was only one thing for it, and that was to set off for Madras and assume command himself. He only decided against this when he learned that Holland was being replaced by the far more capable General William Medows who, like Cornwallis, was a former veteran of the war in America and was currently serving as commander-in-chief of the Bombay army. Although Holland was subsequently placed under arrest and sent home in disgrace the damage had already been done. Cornwallis knew as much when he wrote to the Duke of York;

The backwardness of our preparations on the coast, which was owing to the shameful conduct of Mr Holland, and his disobedience of the clear and positive orders of this government, will I fear render it impossible to bring the contest to a happy issue before the