In 1845 I was appointed to C Troop, Royal Horse Artillery, at Woolwich. There were three troops there, each consisting of two guns, a waggon, and forty horses. They were all commanded by officers who had been present at Waterloo thirty years before—Fox Strangways, Frank Warde, and Ingilby; but only one of them (Strangways) was even a Brevet Major, and they were all between fifty and sixty years of age. Those were days of slow promotion.
On one occasion Major Chalmers, R.A., had an interview with William IV., who incidentally asked him how long he had been a Captain of Artillery. 'Twenty-three years, your Majesty,' replied Chalmers. The king hastily said, 'I didn't ask you how long it was since you were born, but how long you had been a captain.' 'Well, your Majesty,' says Chalmers, 'I am very sorry, but I have been twenty-three years in that rank.' The king, who apparently could hardly believe it, laughed and said, 'And a very fine position, too.' 'Oh yes,' said Chalmers, 'undoubtedly so.'
In the spring of 1848 I was in command of an artillery detachment in the Tower of London. There was at that time much anxiety about the Chartists, and as to the result of a meeting under Fergus O'Connor which took place on Kennington Common on April 10. The walls of the Tower and the top of the Bank and the Mansion House were to some extent prepared for defence, and sandbags were placed to form loop-holes for musketry, an attack by the mob being apprehended. The Lord Mayor applied for some hand-grenades to be thrown from the Mansion House in case of need, and I sent him a boxful in a cab, at the same time giving a hint that in using them he should not hold them too long in his hand, as they might explode prematurely. This caused a little uneasiness, and subsequently a bombardier was ordered to give him instructions as to throwing them.
The clerks in the Ordnance Department at the Tower were sworn in as special constables, and were served out with batons cut out of old mop-sticks. On the morning of April 10 Sir George Cathcart, then Lieutenant of the Tower, sent for me. He had three large canvas frames in his drawing-room, and on them was painted in great letters: 'The Tower guns are loaded to the muzzle. If you attempt to enter, they will be fired!' He said his intention was, when the expected mob came, to hang them (the frames, not the mob) over the walls, with a bit of string. I ventured to point out that, if loaded as stated, the guns, which were old cast-iron carronades, would infallibly burst, but he replied that it was only to frighten the people, who would probably run away. We waited all day, but no crowd ever came near the Tower, and the whole affair collapsed.
It is often said that extravagance prevails amongst the officers in some regiments of the army, and there is probably a good deal of truth in the remark. But at all events in the earlier days of my service real economy prevailed in the Artillery, as is proved by the following facsimile copy of my mess-bill in Dublin in May 1850, now in my possession.
| May 1850 | |||
| £ | s. | d. | |
| Share of Mess Guest | 2½ | ||
| To Ale | 4 | ||
| 2 Cigars | 10 | ||
| Luncheon | 2 | 0 | |
| Share of H.R.H. Prince George's Luncheon | 6½ | ||
| 3 Breakfast | 3 | 9 | |
| 1 Cigar | 5 | ||
| 2 Cigars | 10 | ||
| Luncheon and Soda Water | 1 | 11 | |
| 19 Dinners | 1 | 18 | 0 |
| —— | —— | —— | |
| 2 | 8 | 10 | |
| —— | —— | —— |
Entertaining royalty for 6½d. can hardly be considered extravagant.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Napoleon at Elba, Sir Neil Campbell.