Wellington: A Personal History - Christopher Hibbert

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left Dublin for London in June and, taking rooms at 3 Savile Row, he set out for the shops to equip himself for what might prove to be a long absence in the East. There were clothes to buy and, equally important, there were books. For these he went to Faulders, the booksellers and book-binders in Bond Street, and from here and other shops he came away with a library that could surely not have been packed in its entirety in the trunk, complete with ‘Cord Etc.’, which he bought from Mr Faulder for £1 11s 6d. There were histories of warfare, sieges and military campaigns, an account of the topography of the Indian sub-continent, a copy of the Bengal Army List, books about Egypt and the East India Company, maps and German, Arabic and Persian grammars and dictionaries, as well as two volumes of Richardson’s Persian dictionary costing the extraordinarily large sum of twelve guineas. There were three volumes of Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations, four of the works of Lord Bolingbroke and of Sir William Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England, five of the theological expositions of William Paley, six of Plutarch’s lives, nine of the philosophical works of John Locke, thirteen of David Hume’s History of England, fifteen volumes by Frederick the Great and, for lighter reading, twenty-four volumes of the works of Jonathan Swift. There were books by Voltaire, Crébillon and Rousseau, Samuel Johnson’s dictionary and the memoirs of Marshal Saxe. Listed between books by Smollett and the licentious Amours du Chevalier de Fauhlas were nine volumes of Women of Pleasure. Between a history of France and Cambridge’s War in India was a medical treatise on venereal disease.1

      With these and many other books safely corded in their trunks, Wesley, by now a full colonel, sailed from Portsmouth when the wind was sufficiently fresh and rejoined the 33rd at the Cape. Here he also found two young ladies, not long out of their schoolroom, on their way to India. The elder of the two, Jemima Smith, was described by a young officer who met them at this time as ‘a most incorrigible flirt, very clever, very satirical, and aiming at universal conquest. Her sister, Henrietta [aged seventeen] was more retiring, and I think more admired … with her pretty little figure and lovely neck [that was to say bosom] … She made a conquest of Colonel Arthur Wesley who had arrived at the Cape with the 33rd Regiment.’*2

      Certainly in the company of these two girls, the Colonel, so studious in the frigate on her long passage down the west coast of Africa, became lively and entertaining, ‘all life and spirits’. A captain in the 12th Regiment, Maria Edgeworth’s cousin, George Elers, who had recently arrived at the Cape, provided this sketch of him:

       In person he was about 5 feet 7 inches [actually more like 5 feet 8 or 9 inches] with a long pale face, a remarkably large aquiline nose, a clear blue eye and the blackest beard I ever saw … I have known him shave twice in one day, which I believe was his constant practice … He was remarkably clean in his person …

       His features always reminded me of [the tragedian] John Philip Kemble, and, what is more remarkable I also observed the great likeness between him and the performer, Mr Charles Young, which he told me he had often heard remarked. He spoke at this time remarkably quickly, with a very, very slight lisp. He had very narrow jaw bones, and there was a great peculiarity in his ear, which I never observed but in one other person, the late Lord Byron – the lobe of the ear uniting to the cheek. He had a particular way, when pleased, of pursing up his mouth. I have often observed it when he has been thinking abstractedly.3

      Colonel Wesley was not detained at the Cape for long: in the middle of February 1797, at the age of twenty-seven, almost eight months after leaving England, he went ashore at Calcutta after a more than commonly tedious passage across the Indian Ocean and up the Bay of Bengal in an East Indiaman, named after Princess Charlotte, King George Ill’s eldest daughter. As soon as he could he called upon the Governor-General, Sir John Shore, a schoolfellow of the playwright Richard Brinsley Sheridan at Harrow, who had started his career as a writer in the service of the East India Company by which his father had also been employed as a supercargo. Shore was a conscientious and hard-working though unremarkable man and ‘as cold as a greyhound’s nose’; but he was astute enough to recognize in Colonel Wesley a promising young man of strong common sense who might well one day be a person of distinction.4

      The Colonel, Shore added, also had about him an air of ‘boyish playfulness’; and it was this quality which struck William Hickey, the memoirist, then practising as an attorney in Calcutta and a popular and highly hospitable member of the British community there. Hickey saw him first at a St Patrick’s Day dinner in Calcutta at which the Colonel had been asked to take the chair, a duty which he performed ‘with peculiar credit to himself’.5

      ‘On the 20th of the same month [March 1797],’ Hickey continued, ‘a famous character arrived in Bengal, Major-General John St Leger, who had for a long period been a bosom friend and companion of the Prince of Wales. From having lived so much with His Royal Highness, he had not only suffered in his health, but materially impaired his fortune, and was therefore happy to get out of the way of the Prince’s temptations by visiting Bengal, upon which Establishment he was placed upon His Majesty’s staff.’

      As soon as St Leger arrived, Hickey, who had known him in England, invited him to join a party of guests he was to entertain at his house at Chinsurah. Colonel Wesley was also of the party which, Hickey congratulated himself, was a great success.

       We rose early every morning making long excursions from which we returned with keen appetite for breakfast. That meal being over we adjourned to the billiard room … When tired of that game [we played] Trick Track [backgammon] … Thus the morning passed. At about half past three we retired to our respective rooms, of which I have seven for bachelors, to dress, and at four precisely sat down to dinner.6

      Hickey gave another party at Chinsurah on the King’s birthday, 4 June; and again on that occasion Colonel Wesley was one of the guests. Their host had procured a ‘tolerably fat deer’ and a ‘very fine turtle’ and engaged ‘an eminent French cook from Calcutta to dress the dinner’. He had taken ‘especial care to lay in a quantum sufficit of the best champagne that was procurable’; his ‘claret, hock, and madeira’, he knew, were ‘not to be surpassed in Bengal’. The party accordingly went off with the ‘utmost hilarity and good humour’. ‘We had several choice songs … followed by delightful catches and glees … and General St Leger in the course of the evening sang “The British Grenadiers” with high spirit.’ The party did not break up until between two and three o’clock in the morning; and nearly all the guests woke up with dreadful hangovers.

      Freely as the claret was pushed about at Chinsurah, however, the drinking there was moderate when compared with that in the officers’ mess of the 33rd Foot, over which Colonel Wesley presided, and in the house of Wesley’s second-in-command, Lieutenant-Colonel John Sherbrooke, at Alypore, three miles from Calcutta. Here the drinking of the 33rd’s officers was astonishing. One of the 33rd’s parties, so Hickey wrote, consisted of eight as strong-headed fellows as could be found in Hindustan, including Colonel Wesley.

       During dinner we drank as usual, that is, the whole company each with the other at least twice over. The cloth being removed, the first half-dozen toasts proved irresistible, and I gulped them down without hesitation. At the seventh … I only half filled my glass whereupon our host said, ‘I should not have suspected you, Hickey, of shirking such a toast as the Navy,’ and my next neighbour immediately observing, ‘it must have been a mistake,’ having the bottle in his hand at the time, he filled my glass up to the brim. The next round I made a similar attempt, with no better success, and then gave up the thoughts of saving myself. After drinking two-and-twenty bumpers in glasses of considerable magnitude, the [Colonel] said, everyone might then fill according to his own discretion, and so discreet were all of the company that we continued to follow the Colonel’s example of drinking nothing short of bumpers until two o’clock in the morning, at which hour each person staggered to his carriage or his palankeen, and was conveyed to town. The next day I was incapable of leaving my bed, from an excruciating headache, which I did not get rid of for eight-and-forty hours; indeed a more severe debauch I never was engaged in in any part of the world.7

      For Colonel Wesley these days in Calcutta were a pleasant

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