194 
REVIEWS. 
[Nature and Art, June 1, 1867 
REVIEWS. 
Rough Notes by mi Old Soldier during Fifty Tears’ Service, 
from Ensign G. B., to Mayor-General, C.B. London : Day 
& Son, Limited. 
T HESE two volumes contain tlie record of a thorough 
soldier’s life; vigorously, clearly, and simply narrated. 
It appears almost marvellous that their author can have 
come unscathed through the numerous perils which he 
recounts. He seems to have walked through life over red- 
hot plough-shares, as it were, of battles, tempests, and 
pestilences. In fact, this autobiography of Major-General 
George Bell, C.B., conveys a most vivid impression of the 
exceedingly active service entailed upon our soldiers by 
our numerous and distant dependencies. In 1811, the 
author having obtained an ensigncy in the 34th Regiment 
of the Line, assumed the cocked hat and feather, jack 
boots, and white breeches of the period. During the next 
three years he was engaged in the thick of the fighting 
in the Peninsula. Among the battles and sieges which 
he describes, the storming of Badajoz stands prominently 
forth as a splendid instance of the indomitable valour of 
the British soldier. The story has been told before, but 
it is worth re-telling in its magnificence of horror. “ Here 
now,” writes our author, “was a crushing and most des- 
perate struggle for the prize ; the bright beams of the 
moon were obscured with powder smoke — the springing of 
mines, powder barrels, flashing of guns and small arms, 
rendered our men marks for destruction — death’s grasp 
was just on the remnant of the brave, a total annihilation 
of humanity on our side, when the troops who had escaladed 
the castle made a dash at the breach, and with one loud 
cheer for England, and a sweeping volley, and another 
mad shrieking yell, rushed on with the bayonet, and 
cleared the bloody gap for those belcfw, who now rushed 
in, driving the French from every point — and Badajoz was 
won.” But unfortunately he is compelled to state after- 
wards how this courage was tarnished. — “ For two days the 
town was in possession of the victorious, and it may be 
as well to draw a veil over the misdeeds of men stained 
with the blood of their comrades.” He ascribes much of 
the carnage to the neglect of the Government in providing 
the army with proper besieging- tools. Indeed it is 
lamentable to read that troops, displaying such devotion, 
were constantly suffering from insufficiency of food, clothing, 
and the munitions of w'ar. The recital of these miseries 
evokes, as we may imagine, the grand old shade of Picton 
and the following familiar receipt for dealing with the red- 
tape worm 
“ Sir Thomas Picton told his commissary one day, that 
if he did not find rations for his men, he would hang- him 
on a tree. The commissary became very indignant at this 
insult (as he termed it), and went off to Lord Wellington 
to complain. After hearing the whole story with wonderful 
complaisance, he said, ‘ Did Sir Thomas really say so ? ’ 
‘ Yes, my lord, those were his very words.’ ‘ Very well, 
you had better get the rations, or you may be sure he will 
keep his word. I can do nothing for you : good morning-.’ 
The commissary returned and found the rations for his 
brigade.” 
We renew our acquaintance, in the Peninsula, with 
Maurice Quill, the witty doctor, one of Lever’s delightful 
characters ; and we are presented with many pleasant 
sketches of Spanish life, besides the stirring accounts of 
assaults, charges, marches, and bivouacs. Subsequently the 
General served for many years in the East Indies, enduring 
all the annoyances of flies, fever, mosquitoes, and ther- 
mometers at 130°. He was ordered to “ Rangoon, with its 
3,000 pagodas, its stockade, shipping-, war boats, high and 
towering talipat and cocoa trees, Poonghee houses, and the 
great burnished temple topping all,- and standing in the 
midst of this forest of fairy-like land of enchantment” — to 
fight the Burmese. He was next exposed for seven years 
to the extreme of cold in Canada, where he distinguished 
himself in the suppression of the rebellion. He then 
returned to the fierce sunshine of a West India station, 
where he observes “ the grave-yard was under the men’s 
windows, a very remarkable and interesting view, 
and well chosen by the authorities to keep invalids 
in remembrance that the garrison was deposited there 
every seven years.” Such was the spirit of this old soldier 
that in 1854, after forty-two years’ service, he could not 
rest content with the command of his regiment at serene 
Cephalonia, but applied for and obtained the 1st battalion 
of the Royals, under orders for active service in the East. 
The scene presently changes to the Crimea, and here stories 
which we have heard before, but which come fresh to us in 
all their abomination, make us wish for Sir Thomas Picton, 
his tree, and a coil of stout red tape. We read of 
“ Men in the trenches twenty-four hours at a time, 
soaked to the skin ; no change when they came up to their 
miserable tents, hardly a twig now to be got to boil their 
bit of salt pork ; short of rations, too, for want of trans- 
port ; everything cheerless, the sick lie down to die in peace 
in the miry clay, they have no energy left. Thousands 
might have been saved but for the red tape.” 
Again, “ A ration of green, raw coffee berry was served 
out to the men and officers ; a mockery in the midst of all 
their misery ; nothing to roast coffee, nothing to grind it.” 
“ Inspected the brigade. Found the men in tatters, but 
their powder dry ; their old clothes tied about their half- 
naked frames, and old knapsacks bound about their legs.” 
“ We seldom see any of the red tapists in our camp.” * * * 
“ I proposed, when there was some snow on the ground, to 
put runners on the arabas in the sleigh fashion, and get up 
provisions from Balaclava, a simple matter, and easily 
accomplished. Oh ! no ; it did not emanate from the 
proper quarter, and was poohpooed ; I was a meddler, and 
so on. In three days the camp might have been amply 
supplied with abundance of stores from that wretched 
Balaclava.” Besides the narrative of his campaigns, the 
author gives interesting accounts of numerous journeys, 
which he has undertaken for his own pleasure, to Rome, 
Naples, Athens, and other places. Altogether, from the 
variety of the scenes, and strong interest of the incidents 
through which he carries us, the book can scarcely fail to 
be entertaining as well as instructive. Written by a 
soldier as gallant, as successful, and, if it be a necessary 
qualification, as old as themselves, it seems to us just the 
work that the military hierarchy who are so insolently in- 
tolerant of civilian suggestion might find an excuse for 
reading and inwardly digesting — so that the experiences of 
the Peninsula and Crimea may not be lost, in the event of 
England being unhappily plunged into another European 
war. In a few years we may have forgotten the warning 
which impressed us so deeply when we were first made 
acquainted with the mismanagement of matters in the last 
war. 
Proofs in Support of Lieut. -Col. Richards’ Claims as chief 
Promoter and Originator of the Volunteer Movement of 
1859. Swift & Co., London. 
Most people probably consider, without bestowing much 
thought upon the matter, that our unpaid army arose from 
a spontaneous ebullition of national ardour, evoked by the 
exigencies of the period. Many are, perhaps, glad to for- 
get sinister prognostications and ridicule thrown upon the 
movement at its outset, and the doubts, very frequently 
expressed, whether men would turn, at stated periods and 
by beat of drum, from their offices, counters, or farms, to 
gird bayonets upon their thighs and to shoulder rifles. It 
was a common observation that, even if the youth to 
-whom the promoters of the movement addressed them- 
