Surrender at New Orleans

by David Rooney

  During the autumn, the Division had to move into more permanent accommodation in St Germain, which Harry described in his autobiography as the magnificent and ancient resort of former kings. Stag hunting, in the French style, was all the rage and although one can sense Harry’s disdain for what he considered to be a dandified chase, he nevertheless took it up with enthusiasm. Accompanied, of course, by Juana, now an accomplished and stylish horsewoman, Harry fell in with the irascible Duc de Berri, thundering up and down the forest rides on huge horses. Typically, Harry did not approve of the French hunting customs and conventions, nor did he really like de Berri whom he clearly thought a lightweight. So, with his friend, Will Havelock, he collected sufficient foxhounds from various sources to form a very creditable pack.

  Under the terms of the resumed Congress of Vienna, four British Divisions were to remain stationed in northern France for the next three years, the bulk of the army being garrisoned in the Valenciennes area, with Wellington’s headquarters in Cambrai. With the reduction in strength of the 6th Division, Harry was posted back to his Regiment in his permanent rank of Major. His fellow officers wondered how he would take this reduction in authority and status but, as ever, he had the steadfast support of his old friend, Charlie Beckwith, who had no doubts that Harry would happily revert to being an outstanding company commander. On the move again, the Smiths found themselves quarters in a large, cold chateau accompanied, nevertheless, by his pack of hounds. Harry was then sent for by his Commanding Officer who told him that the Regiment had to provide a Captain for the Depot at Shornecliffe and, unfortunately, Harry was their nomination. This filled him with gloom – particularly at the thought of the lower income in the United Kingdom, when he had become accustomed to the relatively high life of continental living. He did not dare tell Juana.

  However, all was well as no sooner had they reached Bourlon, near Cambrai, when Harry was summoned by General Lambert who told him that plans had changed and he had been ordered to find a major who, with an Engineer officer, was to take over the town of Cambrai from the French, together with all its stores, weapons and materiel. Harry was to be that major. He was overjoyed and, forgetting Shornecliffe with alacrity, started for Cambrai early the following morning. He was to be the Town Major of Cambrai and Charlie Beckwith that of Valenciennes, both with the pay of Assistant Quartermaster-General. His dreams had come true.

  Almost as soon as he had settled into his new job, he was summoned by the Duke of Wellington and told to bring with him a map of the surrounding area of Cambrai. Accordingly, with some nervousness, he approached the Headquarters, wondering why the Duke had called him. But it was all about hunting. Seizing the map, the Duke asked where the foxes were. Harry showed him and the Duke then drew a boundary line across the map, saying to Harry, ‘Your hounds hunt that side, mine this.’ Foxhounds were not the only interest they shared for Harry also obtained greyhounds for coursing hares (it will be remembered that in the Peninsula he often spent time coursing, with particular benefit to the stewpot). Naturally, Juana joined in and was universally admired for her horsemanship and courage. Much enjoyable sport was had and friendly rivalry between Harry’s ‘Spanish’ hounds and those brought out from England.

  The relationship between Harry and Wellington was interestingly close. On the one hand, Harry, a mere major in an infantry regiment, albeit with a considerable wartime reputation, and on the other, the Duke, the Commander-in-Chief at the very pinnacle of his military career, before taking up a political one. Yet Wellington clearly enjoyed Harry’s company, his outspoken views, enthusiasm and joie de vivre. He also, doubtless, admired Juana’s loyalty and spirit, perhaps her loveliness too, not being averse to a pretty face. Despite his self-confidence, which at times verged on arrogance, Harry was nevertheless careful not to presume too much on the Duke’s favour. Riding home together one day, the conversation turned to hunting on Sundays, which Harry deplored. The Duke went on to mull over battles that they had both fought, often occurring on a Sunday. Harry reminded him of Trafalgar and New Orleans, both happening on a Sunday, let alone Agincourt which had been fought 400 years before, to the day. He suddenly remembered that the Duke’s brother-in-law, General Edward Pakenham, had been killed at New Orleans and became nervous of hurting the Duke’s feelings by mentioning him, although as he had admired Pakenham enormously, he wanted to tell the Duke so. However the Duke happily discussed the battle, demonstrating a complete grasp of detail and the way in which it had been fought. Years later, when Harry received an honorary degree at Cambridge University, the Vice-Chancellor commented that the Duke looked on Harry almost as a son.

  In Harry’s view the Duke could do no wrong, whether he was, in the best of spirits, coursing with his old Army cronies, or representing his country, dining with the crowned heads of Europe. At one ball, attended by the Russian Prince and Princess Narinska, together with a number of other Russian and Cossack officers, Wellington wished the mazurka to be danced in the honour of the Princess, who was the only Russian lady present. As the English ladies were not up to it, the Duke turned to Juana and invited her to dance this ‘Russian fandango’ as he put it. Juana, not one to refuse a challenge, cheerfully accepted and danced quite beautifully with a Russian officer, partnering the Princess, to the admiration of the Duke, and Harry’s great pride.

  One night, riding into Valenciennes, on a road thronged by troops marching back to barracks, it was bitterly cold and Harry was clapping his arms onto his shoulders to keep warm. Suddenly Juana said, ‘You have lost your Star of the Bath.’ He had felt something catch in the lace of his sleeve, so he turned back. A column of Russian Cuirassiers was marching along the road he had just ridden over. Since it was dark and the road was filthy, he thought that he could not possibly find it and was in the act of turning back to Juana, when a flat-footed Dragoon horse, having stood on it, kicked it up under his own horse’s nose, out of the dirt on the street. He was absolutely astonished and delighted. Although the Star was dented by the horse’s foot, he wore it like that, unrepaired, for the next twenty-nine years.

  The British occupation of France was one of benign autocracy; the inhabitants were well treated, misdemeanours by British troops were punished and materiel properly paid for. Harry and Juana had a wonderful time. He was the Master of a superb pack of hounds, a dashing steeplechaser and a racing steward. She was beautiful, admired by the Duke, who called her his Spanish heroine, and could dance and sing with the best. Once, Wellington proudly presented her to the Emperor of Russia as ‘ma petite guerrière espagnole’. Speaking fluent French, she rode with the Emperor and amused him with anecdotes of the Peninsula War. However, all this did not come cheap and Harry ruefully admitted that, despite his prize money from Washington, the Peninsular and Waterloo, together with an inheritance from his grandmother, he was running into debt.

  By 1818, the Occupation was drawing to a close and Harry, with a Home posting in sight, was forced to concentrate on his perilous financial position. There was nothing for it but to raffle one of his best horses, Lochinvar. The horse had been bought for him by his father just before Waterloo and was a fine animal of some 16 hands. Juana insisted, despite Harry’s protestations, on buying a ticket. Needless to say, her ticket won, Harry was richer by 245 Napoleons and kept his horse. History does not reveal what the other punters thought of this!

  Harry and Juana thus bid a sad farewell to the Frenchman on whom they had been billeted for nearly three years. The local Mayor made an impassioned speech that, while expressing relief at now being free from occupation, nevertheless praised the British for their generosity and impartiality. What did home and the United Kingdom now hold in store for them?

  In October 1818, Harry and Juana returned to an England which was reeling from the financial strain of the Napoleonic wars; unemployment and poverty were endemic, particularly among discharged soldiers and officers reduced to half-pay. Coupled with an outdated electoral system of Rotten and Pocket Boroughs, this led, inevitably, to wid
espread social dissatisfaction and disruption.

  Harry was posted to the 1st Battalion of his Regiment at Shornecliffe, initially to command a company of recruits. After a brief spell at Gosport with the Battalion, they returned to Shornecliffe, which had been the Depot throughout the war. He was then put in command of Headquarter Company. Juana was able to stay with the family of their old friend, General Lambert. Despite keeping his hunter, Lochinvar, which Juana had ‘won’ in the raffle, an additional mare and Juana’s favourite horse, they managed to live on his pay of 12s 6d a day. Old campaign habits died hard though, and Harry and his men often looked over the Kent countryside, theoretically assessing its defensive possibilities against the now non-existent French invasion. They concluded that the French would never have made it to London if they had had anything to do with it. Oddly, Harry found that sentries were still being posted until he raised the matter further up the line and the procedure was stopped. There were sad partings from old soldiers now being discharged to an uncertain future. Many had been through battles, not only with Harry, but also with Juana, whom they loved and admired. An emotional Waterloo Dinner was held, Harry’s first in England, to commemorate the victory and remember the Fallen.

  Disturbances now started to occur in the industrial cities of Manchester, Birmingham and Glasgow. Harry and the 1st Battalion were sent north by ship and landed at Leith Docks, Edinburgh, on 27 September 1819, from where they were deployed to Glasgow ‘In Aid of the Civil Power’. Juana lived with Harry in barracks in pretty indifferent conditions until lodgings were found for her with the 94-year-old Mrs Beckwith, mother of a number of famous soldier sons, including Harry’s friend, Charlie. The old lady was fascinated to learn Juana was Spanish and insisted on her showing her legs and ankles as she had heard that Spanish ladies were well known for their ‘neatness’.

  Harry and his men had a tiresome and thankless task in Glasgow of the sort well known to modern British soldiers, until recently, in Northern Ireland. Often insulted and jostled by the mob, the riflemen, nevertheless, retained their temper and composure, gaining the grudging respect of the local population, some of whom were old soldiers themselves, eking out a sub-standard existence. Typically, Harry was deployed on one occasion to make several arrests, whereupon a crowd gathered and became violent. Harry put the prisoners in the middle of his Company and covered their withdrawal to barracks with a troop of Hussars. Unlike the ‘massacre of Peterloo’ in Manchester in August 1819, where the terrified Magistrates read the Riot Act and ordered troops to disperse the crowds with force, resulting in considerable violence and a number of deaths, the Glaswegian Magistrates were more robust. Harry, therefore, properly ordered his Hussars merely to lay about the mob with the flat of their swords. He did not, however, escape censure from the pompous and self-important Lord Advocate for allowing his troops to be ‘insulted with impunity’. But Harry was not having any of this. He explained, quite clearly, that he was acting under the direction of the Magistrates and had no intention of unnecessarily shedding the blood of innocent people when his mission (of arresting and conveying the prisoners into custody) could be accomplished without acting like those in Manchester. If the Lord Advocate wished – and one can almost hear Harry’s sardonic tone – he only had to give the order, in writing of course, and Harry would march the prisoners, under military escort, back through Glasgow. This would provoke a predictable riot and possible rescue attempt, at which point Harry would open fire on the citizens of Glasgow. Is that what he wanted? With a ‘Good morning, my Lord’, Harry turned on his heel and left, no doubt with a contemptuous curl of the lip.

  This hardly slowed Harry’s career because he was soon appointed Brigade Major of the military district and he thus, once more, returned to the Staff, not to leave it again until 1825. He reported directly to the General Officer Commanding in Edinburgh, Sir Thomas Bradford, to the consternation of several officers more senior to him. Life took on a more congenial pattern as he spent much time travelling throughout Scotland inspecting Yeomanry and Militia, and accepting much hospitality from the local gentry. His exotic Spanish wife was a great asset and a source of considerable admiration from the Scottish aristocracy. Harry was a great supporter of what we would now call the Territorial Army and saw nothing but good coming from the mixture of social classes within the ranks. Lairds and labourers joined together with enormous dash and enthusiasm.

  When King George IV visited Edinburgh in August 1822, Harry was put in charge of the military arrangements. This was a significant honour and Harry and Juana much enjoyed the social affairs that went with such great occasions. Harry confessed to being agreeably surprised by the charm and efficiency of the courtiers and royal staff. He clearly had a typically jaundiced, front-line soldier’s view of the flunkey and obsequious world of the Court and those who worked within it. He also ruefully admitted that his new uniforms and court dresses for Juana cost him a year’s salary; nevertheless, ‘His Majesty particularly admired my wife’s riding.’

  Harry briefly went back to Paris in 1824 to ‘arrange a little matter of delicacy with a gentleman who had ill-treated a lady’, the latter being a friend of a friend. History does not relate what this delicate matter was but it was satisfactorily concluded and Harry enjoyed seeing all the changes that had taken place since he had been there in 1815. He happily returned to Britain, his own country, which he loved and to the soldiers he admired so much. Juana had no family left in Spain but one wonders whether Harry ever allowed her to think of returning for a visit. By 1825 the troubles had largely evaporated and were to be even further calmed, although not totally, by the later Reform Bill of 1832. Harry, therefore, was no longer required as Brigade Major and returned to his Regiment, now in Ireland. The contrast between the grime of Glasgow and the green of Downpatrick was exhilarating, and Harry and Juana happily settled amongst a friendly and generous people. In the neighbourhood were a number of discharged soldiers for whom Harry had a natural affinity, including one old boy who was apt to get drunk on anniversaries of battles, but more recently on a regular daily basis. When Harry remonstrated with him, he responded that there were so many anniversaries that he was frightened of missing one, so celebrated just in case.

  The stay in Ireland was relatively brief for Harry and Juana as he was ordered to leave for Halifax, Nova Scotia, in September, in command of two and a half companies of his Regiment. Now thirty-seven, Harry was very pleased on arrival in Nova Scotia to find his former Brigade Commander, Sir James Kempt, to be the Governor. Not only that, there were troops there, mainly of the 52nd, old cronies of the 95th, who remembered Harry and Juana from Bordeaux in 1814, and enquired after her horse and dog with affection. The Smiths thoroughly enjoyed Nova Scotia, with regattas, horse racing, picnics and amateur theatricals, despite Harry having to revert to the half-pay of an unattached major (i.e. not within his Regiment), although he had been in temporary command of the Battalion. Sir James Kempt took him on as his ADC and Harry learned much about the administration of government, which was to stand him in good stead later on.

  In November, Harry and Juana were on the move again, this time to Jamaica, where Harry was to assume the appointment of Deputy Quartermaster General in the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. His departure from Canada was marked by an extraordinary outpouring of affection from troops he was unlikely ever to serve with again – he and they knew it, thus making their farewells even more poignant. He was chaired, shoulder high, by officers and soldiers, to the ship to take him and Juana to Jamaica. Little boats followed them to the entrance to the harbour, then they were alone, parted from their faithful old friends, veteran comrades and what Harry described as three of the most renowned regiments of the Duke’s old army.

  Twenty-eight days later they arrived at Kingston, Jamaica, and soon after they had landed, the entire crew of the ship, bar the old German carpenter, died of yellow fever, an unpleasant foretaste of things to come.

  Harry’s job was to sort out some pretty poor administration.
He set to with his usual drive and found that one barracks, because it was a Royal Establishment, was perfectly acceptable; others, because they were merely Colonial Establishments, were a disgrace. The soldier’s ‘bed’ was just a blanket, the very feel of which, in a tropical climate, was unpleasant, and was merely laid on the floor. A submission was promptly put to Horse Guards in London where the Duke of Wellington was Commander-in-Chief, and within a few months, every soldier had a proper bed, with sheets etc.

  The real scourge was yellow fever, a serious viral infection transmitted by mosquitoes in tropical regions. In mild cases the symptoms are similar to influenza, but serious cases develop a high temperature and may have a series of after-effects, such as internal bleeding, kidney failure and meningitis. A classic feature of yellow fever is hepatitis, which is the reason for the yellow colouring of the skin (jaundice) and hence the name of the disease. Yellow fever can cause sudden epidemics, with a mortality rate of almost 50 per cent. Mainly brought in by sailors, it quickly spread amongst the regiments on the Island. In six weeks, twenty-two officers and 668 soldiers died. With the Governor up-country, Harry had to tackle the problem himself. In consultation with the Chief Medical Officer, he moved the 84th out of their barracks to a bivouac camp in the countryside. This had the desired effect, sickness went down and morale returned. Harry and Juana were tireless in their efforts to combat this terrible disease. Never sparing themselves, they would ride 35 miles a day, and often a further 15 in an open boat, visiting, helping and encouraging despondent soldiers. Despite opposition and difficulties, Harry established convalescent accommodation where sick men could recover properly before returning to their units. Gradually, the epidemic came under control and twelve months after Harry had moved the sickly 84th to their bivouac site, they were inspected by the Governor. This time, not a man was in hospital and the only soldier not in the ranks was standing in the rear as he had a fractured leg.