been prime minister and Wellington had been but a lieutenant colonel. That campaign, two decades past, had been a wretched affair indeed, perhaps the depths to which the incompetence of the Horse Guards could reduce an army, and the basest to which human nature without discipline could descend. In such circumstances, it was widely believed that condign punishment was all that held a regiment from becoming a rabble. But here in Hounslow, a posting town little bigger than a village, the question of whether the flogging of a dragoon was necessary to maintain good order and military discipline was on the lips of every man in the regiment.
Lord Towcester had not the slightest doubt, however. Private Hopwood had struck an officer, and he had done so in front of his troop, entirely unprovoked. His reason for the assault was both cynical and at the same time naive. ‘His lordship is therefore determined to make such an example of the man that it will arrest any tendency to the striking of officers,’ said Adjutant Dauntsey, in reply to Hervey’s intercession on the man’s behalf.
‘But there has
‘And a flogging shall ensure that the regiment’s record is restored. You do know, Captain Hervey, that his lordship might have imposed a penalty of death?’
Hervey knew it perfectly well. Striking a superior officer, along with mutiny, desertion, plundering, burglary with violence, giving false alarms, sodomy, carnally abusing children, ravishing women, and riotously beginning to demolish a house, could bring a man before a firing squad or the hangman. And yet the details of the offence were so bizarre as to trouble the sternest of disciplinarians. ‘I should like one final attempt to persuade his lordship to further clemency,’ said Hervey, careful to make acknowledgement of the concession so far.
‘I shall convey your request to his lordship, Captain Hervey. Is there anything else?’
‘No, there is nothing else,’ Hervey replied. In his heart he knew that Lord Towcester was not for turning, but that could not bar his trying.
It soon became clear, too, that Major Joynson wanted no confrontation with the lieutenant colonel. The major sat in his office surrounded by ledgers and sheaves of paper, and evidently regarded the question of Hopwood’s punishment as a distraction to his work. ‘Hervey, there hasn’t been a flogging in years — that, I grant you — but then, there hasn’t been a case of violent insubordination either.’
‘It wasn’t “violent insubordination”,’ insisted Hervey, shaking his head in despair. ‘It was no more insubordination than—’
‘Than?’
Hervey sighed. ‘Do you know all the details, sir?’
‘I know that a dragoon called Hopwood struck Mr Seton Canning in the face with his glove, in front of the whole troop. Do I need to know more?’
‘You were not at the court martial, sir. Do you know why he did it?’
‘Is it of any consequence?’
In one sense the major was entirely correct: a private man striking an officer was an unallowable occurrence. But the major’s manner suggested to Hervey that his submission in the business was entirely pragmatic. If there was nothing he could do about it, then why provoke trouble?
‘Hopwood struck Seton Canning because a man from the fusiliers had told him that striking an officer brought deportation. He has a wife in Australia whom he abandoned three years ago, believing her to be untrue to him, and he has learned that she was accused falsely, and he is in despair of seeing her again.’
‘And yet I am unmoved.’
‘Sir, I relate the story not to excite sympathy for him, but to show how unmalevolent was his intent. I know that may sound strange at first, but it was no more an act of rebellion than—’
The major sighed and took off his spectacles, rubbing his eyes wearily, though it was not past nine. ‘Hervey, has it ever occurred to you that the threat, the
There was undoubted logic in the major’s argument, and Hervey was conscious of beginning to sound like those evangelicals who went round calling for the prisons to be made comfortable and the poor laws bountiful. But flogging had not been the Sixth’s way, and the regiment had pulled through the severest times without it. ‘With respect, sir, I do not believe that many in either the officers’ or the serjeants’ messes share that view.’
The major put his spectacles back on and looked at him severely. ‘You have not been discussing the matter with them, I hope, Hervey?’
‘No, sir.’ Hervey tried to conceal his mounting exasperation. ‘I should not dream of it. There is talk of nothing
‘The canteens? How do you know that, Captain Hervey?’
‘Oh, sir!’ This time he was not going to trouble to conceal his dismay, or even to answer directly. ‘The talk can’t be anything other than injurious to discipline, for it implies that striking an officer is the most heinous of crimes in the lieutenant colonel’s judgement. Unless, that is, he intends restoring the lash for any number of offences.’
‘Hervey, I should be very careful were I you. We do not wish any more trouble than we have already.’
‘With respect again, sir, that is my intention also. That is why I am come before you.’
The major took off his spectacles once more. ‘Are you sure you are not drawn into this too far, because the dragoon is from your troop?’
Hervey could not follow his reasoning. His obligation to act was precisely because Hopwood
‘I mean,’ Joynson explained, ‘that you may be seeing in this an affront, given that the lieutenant colonel has been so obviously displeased with you since the general’s inspection.’
This was a terrible prospect indeed. Had Lord Towcester ordered the flogging to humiliate him and his troop? Would a lieutenant colonel order a dragoon to be flogged solely to humble his officer? No, surely not! Surely not even a man who had run from battle. Hervey breathed deeply and shook his head to dispel the notion. ‘What is Mr Lincoln’s opinion?’
‘Hervey,’ sighed the major, beginning to polish his spectacles. ‘I do not think that that is anything to do with you.’
The major was right, of course. Outside Hervey’s own squadron, matters were the preserve of the regimental staff. ‘No, indeed, sir,’ Hervey conceded. ‘I will take my leave, then. I have requested a hearing of the lieutenant colonel. I thought one last attempt at—’
‘Yes, Hervey,’ the major interrupted, his voice seeming almost to tremble. ‘Do not think that I do not admire your dedication to principle, and indeed to your men.’
But the last thing Hervey wanted now was Major Joynson’s shrift. ‘Thank you, sir. I’m very much obliged for your time and counsel. We can only pray that it turns out well.’ He put his cap back on, saluted and left the major’s office, and with a truly heavy heart.
‘We can only pray,’ echoed Joynson softly, alone now. One hundred lashes? The law allowed three times that. It should not be impossible to bear.
* * *
Prayer was indeed all that remained, for Hervey was unable to gain a hearing of the lieutenant colonel. Lord Towcester remained out of barracks until the hour appointed for the punishment, and Hervey knew that any appeal in public would not only be to no avail but might prejudice the peace generally.
At midday the regiment turned out for foot parade in full dress, with side arms, the officers in front of their troops. It was a solemn affair, without the usual banter from the ranks. Only the words of command, and these muted, broke the heavy silence from time to time. Private Hopwood was marched onto parade under close escort, and with him the half-dozen other prisoners in confinement at the time, so that they too might experience the benefit of his example. When he reached the centre of the front of the regiment he was halted, and the adjutant, stepping up to the commanding officer and saluting, received a sheet of paper, which he proceeded to read aloud. It detailed the finding of the court martial and the sentence awarded. Hopwood stood erect throughout, so that only the guard at his side was able to detect the involuntary trembling which he struggled hard to control. Hopwood had not been at Waterloo, but one could readily suppose that his conduct there would have been as it was now. Hervey
