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_!”
