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.