SIR WILLIAM HOWARD RUSSELL.

Otago Witness, Issue 2784, 24 July 1907, Page 79

SIR WILLIAM HOWARD RUSSELL.

INTERESTING REMINISCENCES OF THE GREAT WAR CORRESPONDENT. (By Hatton, in the Bristol Times.) Every war correspondent I ha\* known has risked his life aa fearlessly, and sometimes ..more' hazardously titan the' ordinary soldierf. I have known several of the most famous of them, and particularly the Pen of th« War who has jttsr beea laid to rest, Dr Sir Howard Russelfc Bfr'toM' me^. some years ago that he had begun writing Ms. reminiscences. "Or rather*", he said, "I ami dictating them. I find thlt method rathaf irksome; bat one. gets over agooxi deal of ground in a .s&ort^tiioe,' and then, of cewireeV Acre "is. j^eni^- o£ oppMtdnity to resyse and correct. In the Crimea >pne had <s> work practically under' fire ; we ' were Operating da a plateauy aiid^continually exposed to the Rttssian guns.'" " "And • a wa^ cortrespendent," I g&taL ' "wins no. glory^by being shot." "NbJ'' 's^id^Rusj sell," with a smile. "Poor deVtß^Hhey f would? say ; "what business had 'be there? I Even his editor would resent it as tx piece of unnecessary foolhardiness." Russell's was a face not made for fightings it was geniality itself, and there was no jealousy in his ' disposition regarding his rivals. I remember on one occasion his speaking of Archibald Forbes's graphic accJunt of the siege of Plevna, with, hearty admiration. 'He had great faith in' Stanley. When we were all (except a very few) looking upon his long silence in "Darkest' Africa" 'as being ominous I dined with Dr Russell, who- had no doubt about his safety. "Lotsof pluck and strategic cnnqrng % her will' come home all right. You'll see," he said. That book of reminiscences, has never ap- , peared. I doubt if etfer BundL resumed ] the dictation upon which he said he was engaged yeans and years ago." He - has left behind, printed and ,unprinted, plenty of material for it. Speaking: aa oae/occosion of his published work, he said, "MyDiary in India, contains the best work I ever did." — The Famous War Correspondent. — .There is . one realistic bit m the drarywhicfc compares well .. with anything hie did before or since, let alone his splendid record on the Crimea. I can't avoid quoting it as an- example of the picturesque touch, the artistic lights and shadows of Russell's fascinating- descriptive work in the' Crimea (so much: better known than his Indian diary), which is historical,* apart from his fearless and honest exposure of our mistakes and distresses. Here, however, is the example taken almost at random from his Indian diary — Outram's ad- ' vance against the Martiniere and his crossing of the floating bridges or rafts over the Goomtee. "See," he writes, "there i«, indeed, a beaiutiful sight — the head of the column, of British: traopa is emerging from the woods which surround our compound and: marching upon the bridge. The scanlet of the Bays shines, brightly in the sun_ What a storm of ligatnmg points— flashes of bright steel — bursfes through tie clouds of dust ! There go the Rifles t the dear 'oM brigade ! Witt the column never cease? Hour after htrar it has been passing over, and all the time we were in» the hot sun and blinding dust on the top of the. Dilkaesba. What swarms, of - camp followers ! What a mighty impedimentum; of baggagey deserts of eamefe, wiMerneeses of elephants, aJJ pouring along towards the river! And then, folfirwurg; in. pareiliel , lines, the folds of the serpent-Kike column, ' which is wending its way through cornfields till it disappears in the woOds on the horizon." Then. Eater in the graphic story, every detail of which vote see, comes^ as picturesquely and impressively described, the enemy and the fight: the messengers front the front, news of this officer's death ami tfeat one?* ▼ietopy, with all th« bustle, escstaaeat; and glory and sadnesa of battle and battlefield — the splendid prologue wifi& its banners and braying trumpets, and the epx&gue with, its, notes of sadness and of sorrow* wailing through , the minor music of victory." 1 — How He Became Lame. — , It is perhaps not gracious to presume 'to correct the emphatic and seemingly authoritative statements ot one's, high-and-mighty> daily contemporaries^ but several of them which ought to know- all about the Taie Dr Sir Howard Russell have misled their readers concerning one event in his career which made him permanently lame,, an elderly gentleman unable to go about without a stick, and obliged to forego home exercise, in which he had delighted. Says a daily for which he did his latest work, to quote the Chronicle, "he was lamed for life by a fall from hi 6 torse during the Zulu war : but the origin of hisv lameness was due to the battle of Bareilly, during the Indian Mutiny, and it was on this account that he continued to receive a small pension from The Times after 6e had ceased to serve it." One may here remark that it was a. question of i remuneration that caused him to leave ( Printing House Square after his long and 1 i brilliant cm ear on The Times for the serj vice of Mr Walter's more capable and en- , terprising rival, Mr . Lawaon (now Lord , Burnliam, of Peterborough Court). I knew the late Dr Sir William Russell with , a certain kind of journalistic intimacy that encourages reminiscent cliat. Once I induced him to tell me several incidents of his career as a war correspondent. Our last foag chat referred to- hi* latest experience, and incidentally he told me how it was that he returned home lamed for life : it was not through a mere fall from his

I horse in the Zola campaign, nor a mere ; kick at the battle of Bareilly. Though , his life was frequently endangered m other ways, this "is how he told me the story of Jus narrow escape from drowning. I have slightly abbreviated some of his sentences, but I mse only his own words i. "I went to sbutk Africa with General Wolseley. It was almost at the close jof the Znlu trouble. A certain chief declined to surrender. The General equipped- a compact little force; we went out, had a bit of sharp fighting close by the Matabele people's country, burnt the chief's kraal, and brought him. and' bis wives prisoners to Pretoria. On our way we had. to, encamp. It was the middle of the day, and I thought I'd lite to got «H. I knew t&e country well,, and there was no enemy in. front. Colonel Baker Russell suggested that I should' have am escort, which I did not think necessary. I knew I should catch the mail carfe leaving Pretoria,, and offered to- take any letters in to the camp. Colonel Russell ; said, 'Perhaps Brackenfrury m«y hare: some.' I had a good little pony,, antf ; took his despatches. As £ Bode .acwaj- fcer * offered me a couple of orderKeau 'Kby* I said, 'let, the poor chaps -haw. their rest.' And away I went. When I bad poshed through, tie bush and reachedl4he veldt, I saw that a storm was coming vp r -and_^ l hey are < terrible" stttrms " «ufc there, — so- I hoxxisvF •onTfasrH&er xivei- E tad . to cross, knowing that when . the sterm. broke the water would mse at a tremendous rate r as it does m Africa. I got down to the liver-bed- by the waggonwary just as the stotrmf broke violently. Entering- the water, a blinding flas& of lightning- terrified my itorse, and he. fell witih my left leg wedged under his bSsbql' der and my right leg fast in the stirxun.. I could not move. My head' was partly under water, the raaa. wa* coming downin torrents, and the river was rising .• rapidly. I made tremendous, efforts to get the horse to move. Be- lay Wise' a, log., I gave myself up for: lost. ; "£s lane riv«r began ta reach my Mp* . I made a- last struggle j the stirrup- hzoEs» * and- released my rigltfc leg. Tfcen I gofc ' the horse up and 1 managed, to- dc^g. m,TflcTf into- the saddle; bu4 just before reacting 1- • t&e other side my poor> haswtf. t$L agaatt ' This time, however,, I was 1 , not hemperedt .by hita. I struggled to- my feet, and: • he, too,, after a time didi so j bat it. was. a lucky escape, fer the ritter was. nowr running, so fast and. deep. We climbed; the bank together — I leaning upon, the ' noraey unable to* mouat ban. f was. glad to «cc the- house o* Mr Grey, a •wellknown farmers with? whom T had dined! more than once. Hie was standing juat ■ witMn. his door speaking to one of hur men. As he saw me he shouted to bis. ' . fellows : ' Don't let that drunken Dutch* - man- come in here! ' I was pretty well' disfigured, as yon may guess. I shouted! as well as I could: 'Grey, it is I! Grey, my dear fell'ffw, it is I— Russell.' Presently he let me in. I went to bed, and ther next day General Wolseley crossed' the river with his forces. My horse, by the way, died of his injuries. I told Sir Garnet how I came to the conclusion that it was all up with me ;** that I should b& swf gt out to 6ea "and- never heard of more. ' Oh, but we would have found you,.' said the General? ""we would" have hunted for you through all the wojcld, and we would- have found you, and have given. you a handsome funeral r . never fear I ' Be ' offered 1 *b rig* up, an ambulance for me, but I preferred to remain with my feiend ' Grey. I returned to Pretoria in a waggon, ' but I am lame for life, can ride no more, ami it is really a trouble to go about roach,, which,, as you will understand well enough, is a. great deprivation.'" — "Sa Runs the World Away." — All the same, he did) go- about, hob-- . bling on Bis v sfcick, it is true, but always ! apparently mi good spisita^ alive to tW - qjucsiians of tba day,, deeply interested, ia t the world's' «Toings, * «smgerf&elae to- feh« ; men: who were bis colleagves en the pro*, . and im touch with the you^ear mea.— the* pen*. oJ the future — asdl wiih- aa nnatinted? admiration of the energy auui descriptive work' »f ArchibaPd FbrW an* Stanley., ; They have aH three had! their "handsome- ' funerals" (God rest them!),',, having done their work and left the indelible seal of" ;it on British history. The last tima < ' I met Rnasell wv in: the portals of the Befosist Chjh. It grieved me that I had to Belp him. up the~ stairs, though, ifc ga^rfe me much pleasure to have the privilege ok the occasion of one of the i E&ct, if oat the v last, of those banqneta which Sir Heniry Irving gave to an aasembtage of his old' and familiar friends.. I recall the cheery little speech Russell matte on that occasion, referring to the' delight i% gave him to sit down once more with his old friend, and the many], other dear familiar faces which he saw 1 , around him. Irving spoke with a good!, deal of effort. I more, home with hen to Stratton street after all his. guests bad said "Good-night" and had "G*d-bleared! him." "So run* the world %way." I had a very brief chat with Russell on. that occasion, and \t referred to a portrait! be had senb me, and to- the most d«a> gerous incident of his career in India* He had commended my "Reminiscences of, J. L. Took," and I asked him about Ida own. He bad dene- little Or nothing, £; did not quite understand, since during, of my interviews years previously b«j had given me a sensational page, partly^ - viva voce, partly in type-wnttea MS., I forgot which, hup I remember that during that past interview he sold, "You knawi that in my letters to The Times. I never*' said anything about myseH. L was odlji a spectator, thougk I had. some; pretty rough adventures and' experiences: More particularly during the Indian' Mutiny X had a very narrow escape — but perilous adventures, I need hardly say, are part of one's inevitable- experience^." Thereupon, after an exampTe or f-n-o. he came to the remarkab 1 * s*r>ry wl*V-b h' i no doubt led to the interencp th.it it was in this adventuro V> w--> ' ■ ' I 'or life, since it is refer' el to !r< ' i» In ..»:) diary — whether ifc ifi related in £uli

there. I have no means of certifying, but this is how he-g ave it to me. — The Indian Mutiny. — "I was injured, and had to travel in a dihcoly,'* said Dr Russell, by-and-bye, in response to .what barristers *ould call another "leading question" about his adventures in India-, "before the battle of Bareilly. Weary afid tired with pain, I felt myself in a dreamy ptcsoupy kind of existence ; heard firing, leaned out of my dhooly, saw a Jong line of Highlanders, looking iirm and ccioi. They were firing, but it seemed to me to be a kind of parade. Some native troops appeared to be moving in front of them, and hiding among the buildings against which their line of fire was directed. Then the firing entirely died out. I felt very hot, thought I was going to die, but instead' I fell asleep. I don't know vriiat my- dreams were, but my waking I shall not forget. Loud shrieks; my dhooly was raised up and dropped ; heard my bearers shouting, 'Sowar l Sowar!'- then they fled. It was a regular etampede-7-elephants trumpeting and thundering along, camels, jingling of harness, and within a few hundred yards a cloud' of v solars, t'be. enemy, sweeping down upon us like the wind. As they came on,, camp followers fell with cleft skulls. We. coukl only feel that we were "in for a, quick and inglorious death. By the help of, .one. of my men — how, I don't know — I scrambled mto a saddle. I was nearly naked; the saddle felt like a het plate of red-hot- iron, the stirrup-irons Mke blazing coals-; my legs and feet were bare. I flew across the plain under the most awful sun.; I was in a ruck of animals. My man, Bam den. suddenly gave a cry of terror, with a look over his shoulder ; I saw 1 a black-bearded ruffian ahead of three sowars coming right at me. I oad neither sword nor pistol. Just, at the moment a camel driver, leading his beast, came between us. Seeing the sowar right across his path he darted under the camel's body. The sowar reined in his horse round the other side of the camel, and as the mnn rose I saw the flash of the tulwar falling on his head like a stroke of lightning. It cleft through cofch his hands, which he raised in supplication, and with a feeble gurgle the- driver fell close beside me, his skull split to the nose. I felt my time was come. — A Terrific Experience. — "My naked heels could make no impression on my panting horse. I saw a body of men advancing in a cloud 1 of dust, and at that moment a pain sbot through my head'; my eyes flashed fire. I was not insensible. I felt that % knew what had happened. "I had been cut down. I put my hand to my head ; there was no blood ; still the faintness — I was not sure — must be death. Then I was i dreaming that I was in the hunting field, in© heart of the pack around me, but I could not hold my horse ; my eyes 6wam ; then it seemed as if I plunged into a deep, cook lake, and in whiieh I sank I deeper and deeper until the hissing waters rushed into my lungs and choked me. It turned out that I hadi been- struck down fey the sun instead of tt-e sowar-, and had fallen from my horse close to the spot where Tombs's guns were unlimbering, and that a soldier who belonged to tine ammunition guard and who was running from the sowans, seeing a body lying in the sun all naked except a bloody shirt, sent oxit a dhooly, when he got to the road, for a dead officer who had been stripped.- I was carried off to the cover of some trees, and eventually, I need hardly say, got well again. On that day of my mishap the heat from 12 o'clock till sunset had been tremendous. All over India during those dreadful hours we lost hundreds of men by sunstroke."