There are several reasons why I wanted to write a book where Lieutenant General Sir Rowland Hill played a prominent role. Firstly, we are both Shropshire Lads, haling from that beautiful county that so many pass through on their way to Wales without stopping. I walked the paths around the Hill family estate at Hawkstone Park many times when I was growing up. Secondly, in a time when kindness seems to be actively devalued by those in government in the UK, and until recently the US, it was satisfying to write about a man for whom consideration for others was at the heart of his personality. Rowland Hill was nicknamed ‘Daddy Hill’ by his troops because he so evidently cared for their well-being, which perhaps says as much for other generals of his era as it does about him. Historian Charles Oman, near the end of his A History of the Peninsular War, wrote “I have never seen a hard word of ‘Daddy Hill’ in any of the hundred Peninsular diaries that I have read.” Thirdly, the two of Hill’s battles that I chose to cover in At the Point of the Bayonet – Arroyomolinos and Almaraz – had not had much attention and I was curious to find out if there was more to Hill than just his reputation for kindness and affability.
Hill was born in August 1772 at Prees Hall in Shropshire. Part of a large family, it was his uncle, Sir Richard, who owned the much larger and prosperous Hawkstone estate. Rowland and his brothers were destined to enter careers common to sons of the minor aristocracy, such as the church and the army. His sisters of course were merely expected to marry as well as they could. His parents, knowing his gentle nature, suggested that Rowland enter the law but the 17 year-old wrote to them:
I know it is your’s and Papa’s wish that I should be in the law, but I hope you will forgive me if I say I should not like that line of life; for, indeed, I have a dislike to the law, and am sure I should neither be happy, nor make any figure, as a lawyer. The profession which I should like best, and I hope you and Papa will not object to, is the army.
His father determined that if that was Rowland’s wish then he would do what he could to ensure Rowland did well in his chosen profession, and after purchasing him a commission in the 38th Foot he arranged a place at a military academy in Strasbourg, there being no equivalent institutions in Britain at the time. Unfortunately, Rowland’s education was interrupted by events in Revolutionary France. Nevertheless, he managed to rise quickly in rank, not by purchase, but via the cheaper routes of raising recruits and exchanging regiments. One of Rowland’s early commanding officers wrote to his father “as an officer, his talents, disposition, and assiduity are of the most promising nature; and that his amiable manners, sweetness of temper, and uncommon propriety of conduct, have not only endeared him to the regiment, but procured him the most flattering attentions from an extensive circle of the first fashion in this country [the west coast of Scotland].”
At the outbreak of war with France in 1793 he recruited more men to get himself promoted to captain, and then had his first experience of combat at the Siege of Toulon where he met and became friends with the much older Thomas Graham. After the siege ended, Graham raised his own regiment, the 90th Foot, and again by recruiting men Hill jumped from captain, to major and then lieutenant colonel, despite only being 21. In 1801 he took his battalion to Egypt with Sir Ralph Abercromby’s expedition to expel the French army abandoned there by Napoleon. The 90th led the advance inland from the beachhead and were attacked by French cavalry. A musket ball hit the peak of the Tarleton helmet Hill was wearing and he was concussed.
After Egypt, the 90th and Hill went to Ireland and shortly afterwards Hill was promoted to brigadier general on the Irish staff, which would mean his leaving the regiment. The officers of the 90th wrote to him:
On their taking their farewell of an officer who has ever stood so high in their estimation, they feel themselves called upon to declare that the discipline he maintained in the regiment, has ever gained it the distinguished praise and approbation of all the general officers they have ever served with, – a discipline so tempered with mildness that must have endeared him to every individual in the regiment, as well as his general attention to their private interests.
By 1808 Hill was a major general and was assigned to an expedition to Portugal, commanded by Sir Arthur Wellesley. Hill commanded a brigade and performed well, personally steadying and then leading troops at the Battle of Roliça. Hill and Wellesley seemed to have worked well together and Rowland had handled his brigade skilfully in action. He was also already building a reputation as a commander that cared for his men, and the ‘Daddy Hill’ nickname was already being used.
Hill fought under Moore in the Corunna campaign and then returned to Portugal in the spring of 1809 just before Wellesley. At the second Battle of Oporto, Hill took charge of troops across the river at a seminary when Lieutenant General Edward Paget was wounded at the start of the action, and he also played a prominent role at Talavera. When the army was reorganised Hill was given command of the 2nd Division. In December 1809 he was Wellington’s first choice for an independent command covering the southern approaches to Portugal.
Hill became ill in the winter of 1810 to 1811 and returned to Britain to recover. In his absence Beresford took over his command and fought the Battle of Albuera. Hill returned soon afterwards to find his division shattered. He resumed his role covering the southern flank and became engaged in a tedious round of advances and retreats across the Spanish province of Extremadura. In October a French division moved forward to raise contributions from the town of Cáceres, driving Spanish troops back to the Portuguese border. Hill decided to manoeuvre forward to force the French to retreat. It was a dance that he and his French opponents had performed before and he did not seriously expect the experienced French commander, Général de Division Jean-Baptiste Girard, would allow himself to be brought to battle.
Most Britains now think of Spain as a sunny holiday destination but the winters in the hills and mountains of the interior can be cold and wet. Hill’s British, Portuguese and Spanish force marched through torrential rain and squalls towards Cáceres. The roads were so dreadful that some of the artillery had to turn back. The troops slept in the open and had soon outpaced the commissary carts carrying their rations. After five days they were tired, wet and hungry. But Girard had heard of their approach and so, as expected, had begun his withdrawal. However, Hill learnt that he had halted at the village of Arroyomolinos. Despite the fatigue of his troops Hill decided that he’d make one last push to try and catch the French, and on the night of the 27th of October the allied army halted just a couple of miles from them. During the night Hill quietly pushed his men forward into postion for an attack. The weather was still dire, with the commander of the 92nd Foot, the Gordon Highlanders, referring to the morning of the 28th as “one of the most dreadful mornings for wind and rain I ever remembered” – which is saying something coming from a Scot.
Girard had failed to post adequate pickets, and Hill’s men managed almost complete surprise with many of the enemy’s first inkling of their presence the pipers of the 92nd playing Hey Johnnie Cope are ye waukin’ yet. The highlanders charged into the village while other troops encircled it on the flanks. Girard’s only escape route was across the hills behind the town, and a long pursuit ended with him only saving around 500 men of the two brigades who had been in the village when Hill attacked, one brigade having already marched off before the action.
Hill received a knighthood and much praise for the victory. Arroyomolinos also earned the 2nd Division the nickname of ‘the surprisers’ and many of the memoirs and journals from the division relate how pleased the officers and men that Hill led were at the praise heaped upon their well loved commander. Lieutenant Moyle Sherer of the 34th Foot wrote:
One thing in our success at Arroyo de Molinos gratified our division highly; it was a triumph for our General, a triumph all his own. He gained great credit for this well conducted enterprise, and he gained what, to one of his mild, kind, and humane character, was still more valuable, a solid and a bloodless victory; for it is certainly the truest maxim in war, ‘that conquest is twice achieved, where the achiever brings home full numbers.’
During the winter of 1811 into 1812 Hill and his men resumed their game of cat and mouse with the French. Wellington captured the fortress of Ciudad Rodrigo early in the new year and then came south to tackle Badajoz. With both fortresses that guarded the approaches to Portugal secure he could at last contemplate moving deeper into Spain. However, it was vital that the French forces, that still vastly outnumbered his own troops, were prevented from uniting against him. So, he determined to destroy the main crossing across the river Tagus near Almaraz which would prevent the French armies in the north and south from coming to each other’s aid. He chose Hill for the job.
Hill gathered a mixed British and Portuguese force and marched deep into French territory. The pontoon bridge near Almaraz was protected by several small but formidable fortifications, including one on a vital mountain pass that covered the only route down to the river for artillery. An initial night attack on that fort failed after the French were alerted by an accidental shot. Hill had also been trying to get down to the bridge via a small goat track but the terrain was so difficult that the troops were nowhere near the bridge by morning.
Hill paused and regrouped. He considered another attack on the fort at the pass but that could take time he did not have. The garrison at the crossing would have sent for reinforcements which were only a day’s march away. Instead, he ordered a diversionary attack at the pass while he again led a British brigade, and a Portuguese regiment, plus two companies of the 5/60th Rifles, through the mountains down to the bridge. The paths were so narrow and winding that the scaling ladders had to be cut in half. By daylight Hill’s men were near the bridge, but still spread out.
They formed up behind a low ridge and charged towards the main position overlooking the crossing, Fort Napoleon. The main assault was by two columns of the 50th Foot, and one of the 71st Highland Light Infantry. The rest of the 71st and the 92nd looped around to attack the bridge itself. The strongest part of the fort was assaulted by No.4 Company of the 50th led by Captain Robert Candler, 34 years old, from Colchester in Essex. Candler was first up the ladders and waived his sword, urging his men to push forward. He was quickly hit by several shots and fell dead inside the fort. The 50th and then 71st managed to overpower the French on the walls and the enemy’s resistance crumbled. The French cut the bridge and those on the far side fled, leaving their comrades to drown or be captured trying to swim across the river.
The original plan had called for artillery support and more than two brigades, but Hill had taken the risk to attempt the task with far less and won, although the casualties amongst the 50th especially were severe. The bridge and the forts were destroyed and Hill retired before the French could react. Hill and his men again gained much credit from their victory. Wellington was convinced it was a key strategic point in the 1812 campaign:
I think we are now in a great situation. The blow which I made Hill strike a few days ago upon the enemy’s establishment at Almaraz has given me the choice of lines of operation for the remainder of the campaign, and do what we will we shall be safe. If I have luck we may do great things; at all events, the campaign is ours, I believe.
Hill and his troops continued to play a key role in the Peninsular campaign, although following their defeats in 1812 the French withdrew from southern Spain and there was no need for Hill to continue with his independent command. At Vittoria Hill’s men were involved in hard fighting along the high ground on the flank. As the army advanced into the Pyrenees and up to the borders of France itself Hill obtained perhaps his hardest won victory at St. Pierre. French columns advanced on a narrow front and Hill’s men first fought them to a standstill and then successfully counter-attacked.
Following Napoleon’s abdication in the spring of 1814 Hill returned to Shropshire. He was raised to the peerage, as 1st Baron Hill of Almaraz and of Hawkstone, for his services to the country. In December 1813 the editor of The Shrewsbury Chronicle had proposed the erection of a column to honour Hill:
It is suggested therefore, that by erecting a COLUMN, or some other Building, DEVOTED to General Sir Rowland HILL we may… by a SUITABLE INSCRIPTION enumerate some of the GREAT TRANSACTIONS OF THE PRESENT DAY – the expulsion of invaders – the restoration of millions of inhabitants to national independence – and the March into France of triumphant British Soldiers, conducted by a SALOPIAN CHIEFTAN.
Construction started in December 1814 and was completed on 18 June 1816, the first anniversary of Waterloo, where Hill had commanded a corps. Sergeant David Robertson recalled that when the 92nd saw Hill at Waterloo:
We all stood up and gave him three hearty cheers, as we had long been under his command in the Peninsula, and loved him dearly, on account of his kind and fatherly conduct towards us. When he came among us he spoke in a very kindly manner and enquired concerning our welfare.
After serving with the army of occupation in France Hill retired to Shropshire but when Wellington was prime minister accepted the position of commander-in-chief of the British Army. His tenure was unremarkable, but unsurprisingly he was noted as being extremely fair when it came to dispensing his powers of patronage. He finally retired in 1842, and was made a viscount. He died a few months later.
Hill had a very different style of command to Wellington, who does not always seem to have appreciated that there were different ways to doing things to his own. Hill delegated well, something that Wellington struggled with, and his own kindness seems to have resulted in both loyalty and affection from those he led. Of course, he was not a perfect man, nor a perfect general, but I for one would rather be remembered for being kind than winning battles. That Hill is remembered for both is much to his credit. He did not let his concern for his men stop him driving them hard, when needed, or risking their lives when the situation demanded it. Perhaps we should put the ‘Daddy Hill’ nickname in its proper context of more severe Georgian parenting, rather than think of it in terms of parenting today.
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Daring, Duty & Cunning Plans 