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Title: A Soldier's Experience
- or A Voice from the Ranks: Showing the Cost of War in Blood and Treasure
- A Personal Narrative of the Crimean Campaign, from the Standpoint of the Ranks; the Indian Mutiny, and Some of its Atrocities; the Afghan Campaigns of 1863
Author: Gowing, Timothy
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "A Soldier's Experience
- or A Voice from the Ranks: Showing the Cost of War in Blood and Treasure
- A Personal Narrative of the Crimean Campaign, from the Standpoint of the Ranks; the Indian Mutiny, and Some of its Atrocities; the Afghan Campaigns of 1863" ***
A SOLDIER'S EXPERIENCE.
_THIS BOOK BELONGS TO_
.....................................
If thou art borrowed by a friend,
Right welcome shall he be
To read, to study, not to lend,
But to return to me.
Not that imparted knowledge doth
Diminish learning's store;
But books, I find, if often lent,
Return to me no more.
Read slowly. Pause frequently.
Think seriously. Return duly--
With the corners of the leaves not turned down.
[Illustration:
_OLDHAM PHOTO. COLCHESTER._ _AUTOTYPE_
T. GOWING,
_Late Sergeant-Major, Royal Fusiliers_.]
A SOLDIER'S EXPERIENCE
A Voice from the Ranks:
SHOWING
THE COST OF WAR IN BLOOD AND TREASURE.
A PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF
THE CRIMEAN CAMPAIGN, FROM THE STANDPOINT
OF THE RANKS;
THE INDIAN MUTINY, AND SOME OF ITS ATROCITIES;
THE AFGHAN CAMPAIGNS OF 1863.
ALSO
SKETCHES OF THE LIVES AND DEATHS OF
SIR H. HAVELOCK, K.C.B., AND CAPTAIN HEDLEY VICARS.
TOGETHER WITH
SOME THINGS NOT GENERALLY KNOWN.
BY ONE OF THE ROYAL FUSILIERS.
_NOTTINGHAM_:
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR BY THOS. FORMAN AND SONS
1896.
_All Rights Reserved._
_Price:--Gilt Edges, 6s. 6d._
Copies may be had on application to the Author--T. GOWING,
200, CHIPPINGHOUSE ROAD, SHEFFIELD; or from
THE PUBLISHERS, NOTTINGHAM.
PREFACE.
Having been much encouraged by the rapid sale of 22,500 copies of the
first editions of my book, and being urged by a number of friends to go
more deeply into the subject, I have revised and considerably enlarged
it, and hope that the following pages will prove of interest, not only
to the rising generation, but to all thinking people. I have confined
myself strictly to a narrative of facts, whether the incidents related
came under my own observation or otherwise. A number of gentlemen have
kindly given me valuable assistance, and I am, moreover, indebted to
some of the best military writers, having consulted Napier, Maxwell,
Alison's "Europe," Wellington's Despatches, &c. Historical facts are
here brought forward which, probably, few of the rising generation are
acquainted with. My object has been to compress the largest amount of
information into the smallest possible space, and to insert in one
volume some of the most surprising and interesting events that have ever
taken place on land, and in which a Briton will glory.
Some may regard the work as of a very mixed character, nevertheless I am
in hopes that it will both interest and entertain thousands. And here I
must beg my readers to remember that the book is submitted to their
judgment as a record of facts, and not as an attempt at fine writing.
I took part in some of the most desperate scenes in those arduous
campaigns of the Crimea, the Indian Mutiny, and Afghanistan. At the Alma
I was one of those who led the way up the fatal heights; at Inkermann I
was in the thick of the fight, and was wounded. I was beside that
Christian hero, Captain Hedley Vicars, when he fell in his country's
cause, with the words on his lips--"For England's home and glory--follow
me." It would be well if thousands of the fast young men of the present
day took a lesson from the life of that exemplary soldier. I was also
engaged in those memorable struggles that were carried on, night after
night and day after day, before Sebastopol; and was wounded a second
time in that bloody attack on the Redan, in which a Norfolk man--the
late General (then Colonel) Windham--gained an immortal name. In giving
my experiences during that campaign I may in some respects seem to be
repeating an "oft-told tale," yet, as a personal narrative, it will, I
think, be new to many, and will afford information not elsewhere to be
found.
The letters to my parents from the seat of war in the Crimea and India,
from 1857 to 1876, I have ventured to publish, trusting they will prove
of more than passing interest, and set more than one thinking, "Where is
my boy to-night?" Many of them were written under great difficulty in a
bleak tent or hut, with the thermometer far below freezing point, with
my wet rags frozen on my back; often my overcoat stiff with frost.
Others from some of the hottest stations in India, with the sweat
rolling off one like rain; the only covering would be a mosquito shirt
and drawers, made of the finest muslin, with the thermometer indicating
125 or 130 degrees of heat in your room.
The descriptions of the different fights, both by day and night,
particularly the storming of Sebastopol, and the aspect of the interior
of those blood-stained walls after the siege, will help to depict in
their true colours the horrors of war.
"A Peep Behind the Scenes" will, I trust, also prove interesting to
thousands.
The list of killed and wounded of the various regiments is authentic, as
is likewise the number of officers, non-commissioned officers, and men
who died of disease and hardships that neither pen nor tongue can
describe.
The records of the Royal Fusiliers, the Connaught Rangers, and the Old
Forty-Twa's, or Black Watch, together with incidents of other regiments,
I feel confident will interest many.
In the chapters on the Indian Mutiny I have narrated some of the most
atrocious deeds that were perpetrated, and shown how vengeance was most
surely meted out to the miscreants who were guilty of them.
The description of the Afghan campaign of 1863 will, I hope, clearly
prove that we had some rough work before the sons of the Himalayas were
subdued; while the manners and customs of the people of India, which I
have briefly dwelt on, will, I feel certain, afford considerable
amusement.
The list of the battles that have been fought by our army from 1704 to
1882, with the various regiments that took part in them, will further
illustrate this country's expenditure in blood during all those years.
The losses of each regiment on the field of Waterloo may not be known
to all; while the opinion of Napoleon I. as to where the strength of
England lay deserves to be held in remembrance.
The Will of Peter the Great I have incidentally published, as it may
astonish many, who will, from a perusal of it, obtain a clue to the
policy pursued by Russian Statesmen to this day.
The chapter of Curiosities may be relied upon, as containing a record of
facts, some of which will be found amusing and others heart-rending. The
mysteries of Providence I have endeavoured to illustrate.
The sketches of the lives and deaths of Sir H. Havelock and Captain
Hedley Vicars will, I feel confident, be of interest to many. Their
examples in life and death were sublime.
The purest treasure mortal times afford
Is spotless reputation; that away,
Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.--_Shakespeare._
The last chapter, I trust, will be found instructive and interesting. It
shows the enormous cost of war in blood and treasure, bringing out the
indomitable determination of our forefathers "to conquer Napoleon or
die." Often our numbers have been few, but fearless still; often broken
and crushed, but never subdued.
With confidence I now submit my work to my fellow-countrymen, trusting
that none will criticise too harshly the humble literary efforts of one
who has tried to do his duty upon many a hard-fought field, and who is
ready to do it again rather than see that flag we love so well trampled
in the dust.
T. GOWING,
Late Sergeant-Major, R.F.,
and Allahabad Garrison.
INTRODUCTION.
Great Britain has produced a race of heroes who, in moments of danger
and terror, have stood as "firm as the rocks of their own native
shores," and when half the world have been arrayed against them have
fought the battles of their country with heroic fortitude. We have
written with no wish to foster a bellicose spirit, for we regard war as
an evil which is only endurable when the cause is just. But no love of
peace should deaden our admiration of brilliant deeds, and unquailing
heroism. War, like peace, has its virtues, which only a fanatic will
under-value. Happy England no longer girds on the sword but with a good
reason. But we presume that a record of achievements in war--victories
complete and surpassing--gained by our countrymen, our brothers, our
fellow citizen-in-arms, who have waved our triumphant standard on the
Indus, the Tagus, the St. Lawrence, and the Seine (the thunder of our
guns has resounded in China, in the mountains of the Pyrenees, and on
the coast of the Black Sea)--a record which stimulates the memory of the
bravest of the brave, and brings their gallant deeds before us--will, we
are confident, prove acceptable to millions of the happy inhabitants of
our silver-coasted isle.
The natives of Britain have at all periods been celebrated for innate
courage and unshaken firmness; and the national superiority of the
British troops over those of the finest armies of Europe, as well as the
multitudinous hosts of Asia, has been evinced in the midst of the most
imminent perils. History contains so many proofs of extraordinary acts
of bravery that no doubts can be entertained concerning the facts which
will follow in this work.
It must be admitted that the distinguishing feature of the British
soldier is intrepidity. This quality was manifested by our forefathers
when their country was invaded by Julius Cæsar, when the undaunted
Britons rushed into the sea to attack the Roman soldiers; and although
they had little or no discipline, and were armed in an inferior manner
to their adversaries, yet their fierce and dauntless bearing intimidated
Cæsar's favourite Tenth Legion. But their bravery was unavailing against
Cæsar's disciplined legions. In the course of time a military system,
with discipline and subordination, was introduced; and British courage
being thus regulated, a full development of the national character
followed, and in the hour of need it has frequently shone forth in all
its native brilliancy in a way that nothing could daunt, nothing dismay.
The military force of the Anglo-Saxons consisted principally of
infantry. The chivalrous Thanes, noblemen and men of property, fought on
horseback, and armed and mounted a portion of their retainers. The
infantry consisted of two classes--heavy and light; the former carried
large shields, and were armed with spikes and long broad-swords, and
spears; while the latter were armed with swords and spears only. There
were also men armed with clubs, and others with battle-axes and
javelins.
The Saxon law esteemed every man a soldier, unless incapacitated by age
or physical weakness, and he was regularly trained in the use of arms.
The head of a family was the leader of all the capable males in that
family.
The line of battle of our Saxon forefathers was simple in the extreme.
The Royal standard stood in the centre; around it gathered the mounted
Thanes, while the infantry stood in the foremost ranks to bear the brunt
of the fighting. The weapons carried by the infantry during several
reigns succeeding the Conquest were bows and arrows, half-pikes, swords,
and daggers. Armour was worn on the head and body, and in course of time
the practice became general, and men were so completely encased in steel
that it was almost impossible to slay them. But the introduction of
gunpowder for purposes of war, in the early part of the fourteenth
century, produced a change in the arms of both mounted and dismounted
soldiers. Bows and arrows gave place to various kinds of fire-arms, but
the British archers continued formidable gentlemen to face. We find
that, during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, companies of infantry
numbered from 150 to 300 men. Each company had a colour, and were armed
in five different ways. A company formed up for attack, or defence,
would appear thus:--
[COLOUR]
25 30 40 40 40 40 40 30 35
Arque- Archers. Muskets. Pikes. Halberds. Pikes. Muskets. Archers. Arque-
busiers. busiers.
It was customary to unite a number of companies into one body called a
regiment, which frequently numbered 3000 men, exclusive of officers.
Armour was gradually laid aside by the infantry in the 17th century, as
it was not proof against the musket-ball, which weighed one-tenth of a
pound.
The introduction of long knives or bayonets, in 1672, which at first
were made to fit or screw into the muzzles of the muskets to be used
after the ammunition had been exhausted, soon became a great favourite
with our men. In the early part of the 17th century regiments were
reduced to 1000 men, exclusive of officers; and gunpowder, which
heretofore had been carried in flasks, was made up into cartridges and
carried in pouches, as now. In 1764 the infantry discontinued carrying
the sword. Since then the arms of the infantry have been limited to the
musket or rifle and bayonet. The arms and equipments of the British
soldier have seldom differed materially from those of other European
States. At times, however, through neglect, the arms of our soldiers
have been inferior to those of nations against whom they have had to
contend. Such was the case at Inkermann with our Fourth Division and
Marines; but, notwithstanding this disadvantage, the superiority of the
Briton came out in all its splendour.
Great Britain has produced a race of lion-like champions, who have dared
to confront a host of foes, and have proved themselves valiant with any
arms. At Creçy King Edward III., at the head of 30,000 men, defeated
100,000 renowned French veterans, completely routing them from the
field. Ten years afterwards, Edward, Prince of Wales, at Poictiers,
defeated another French army of 60,000 horse, besides infantry, with but
14,000 of the sons of Albion, capturing the French King and his son upon
the field. Again, on the field of Agincourt, King Henry V., with an army
of about 13,000 Britons, routed the Constable of France, with the flower
of the French nobility and 60,000 of their choicest troops. In the wars
of Queen Anne the fame of the British army, under the unconquerable and
redoubtable Duke of Marlborough, was spread throughout the world.
Witness the deeds of that brave army in Egypt in 1801. Under the noble
Abercrombie, there the vainly styled "Invincibles" had to bow and give
up the palm to the descendants of Creçy. Again, we would glance at that
noble army throughout the Peninsula and the south of France, under the
command of the immortal Wellington. Here Britons, side by side with the
gallant sons of the Emerald Isle, routed their boastful enemy from field
after field, and nailed victory after victory to our glorious old
standard. We think it has been pretty clearly proved that the sons of
Albion, side by side with the noted boys of Erin's Isle, have not
degenerated from their unconquerable forefathers who fought and
conquered at Creçy, Poictiers, Agincourt, and Blenheim. And the
determined stands made by the British army at Waterloo and Inkermann,
against overwhelming odds, has compelled the world to admire. We would
not forget the achievements of the invincible bands on the heights in
front of Delhi, and at the Residency of Lucknow; also in the recent
battles in the Soudan, against multitudinous fanatics. All engaged there
proved that they were no unworthy successors of the veterans of
Marlborough, Wellington, and Clyde, who fought and conquered on a
hundred fields.
We say again that the sons of Albion of the 19th century can produce a
catalogue of victories, both by sea and by land, that stands
unparalleled in the annals of the world. The fame of the deeds of the
past and present generations in the various battle-fields where the
robust sons of Albion and Erin's Isle have fought and conquered
surrounds the British standard with a halo of glory. These achievements
will live in the pages of history, stimulating the rising generations to
the end of time. It has been frequently proved of late, in the hour of
peril, that they are true and loyal sons, and "faithful unto death." The
rank and influence which our much beloved isle has attained among the
nations of the world have in a great measure been won for her by her
intrepid sons. And to all who have the welfare of their country at heart
we hope the following pages will prove instructive and interesting.
T. G.
INDEX.
CHAPTER I.
Boyhood--Enlistment--Will of Peter the Great--Recruits'
Drill--What the Fusiliers were Thirty Years ago--The Young
Idea had to be Taught how to Shoot--The Fusiliers Depart for
the East--The Writer quickly follows them--Voyage out--Call
at Gibraltar and Malta--Landing in Turkey--Its Scenery and
People--Marching and Counter-Marching--The Unseen Enemy,
Cholera--Embark again for the Crimea, escorted by the Fleets
of England and France--An Account of the Services of the
Leader of the Crimean Army, Lord Raglan--Also of Sir G.
Brown, Sir De Lacy Evans, Sir Colin Campbell, Sir George
Cathcart, and the Earl of Cardigan--Population of the
British Empire--Remarkable Battles that have been fought on
Sundays--Voyage up the Black Sea--The Russian Fleet
Pages 1-40
CHAPTER II.
Disembarkation in the Crimea--First Night in the Enemy's
Country, a night long to be remembered, no shelter--March to
the Alma--The Battle--The Fusiliers Leading the Van--Letter
from the Heights to my Parents--A Fair Description of that
Terrible Fight--March from the Alma--Balaclava easily
Taken--We take up our position in front of Sebastopol--First
Bombardment--The Battle of Balaclava--Charge of the Light
and Heavy Brigades--Poem by Tennyson--Little
Inkermann--Trench Work--The Battle of Inkermann, the
Soldiers' Fight--Am Wounded--Description of that
Fight--Aspect of the Field after the Fight--My Letter
Home--Sent on to Malta--Letter from Her Majesty--Notes on a
Norfolk Hero at Inkermann, Sir T. Troubridge--Who first
Landed in the Crimea 41-93
CHAPTER III.
Voyage to Malta--Scenes between Decks--An Insufficiency of
Doctors--Landing at Malta--Kind Treatment in Hospital--The
Nurses--Fast Recovery--Letter Home--Longing to be at it
again--Purchase of Blankets and other Comforts--Another
Letter Home--To the Front again--Reception by old
Mess-Mates--Sufferings of the Army--Break-down of the
Commissariat--Plenty of Stores Rotting in Harbour, but none
to be got by the Troops--Make-shifts--Appearance of the Men
94-106
CHAPTER IV.
More Trench Work--Meeting with Captain Vicars--My Letter of
the 15th March, 1855--Night Attack in the Trenches--Capt.
Vicars' Death--A few Remarks showing his Noble Character--My
Letter Descriptive of the Fight--Storming Rifle Pits--More
Trench Duty--Supplementary Letter--The Taking of the
Quarries and Circular Trench--Desperate Fighting before
Sebastopol, the 7th and 88th Leading--My Letter Home, 8th
June--Continued Fighting--First Assault on the Town--Its
Bloody Repulse--The Poor Old Light Division Cut to
Pieces--The Fusiliers again Led the Way--My Letter of the
18th--Waiting to be Revenged--A Terrible Night--Attack by
the Enemy and its Bloody Repulse--My Letter of the 28th
June, describing the Fight--Death of Lord Raglan much felt
through the Allied Army--The Battle of Tchernaya, 16th
August--The Enemy's Last Throw for Victory Defeated--My
Letter Home of the 18th August--Creeping Closer and Closer
to the Doomed City--The Last or Terrible Bombardment--A
Nasty Blunder, our own people pitching into us--My Letter
Home, 2 a.m., 8th Sept.--P.S. to it announcing my Death--My
P.P.S. after I had recovered 107-154
CHAPTER V.
The Storming of the Town--A Description of the
Assault--Capture of the Malakoff and Redan--Am left on the
Field Wounded--Our Loss, the French Loss, and the Enemy's
Loss--The Spoil--The Aspect of the Interior of the Town
after the Siege--Napoleon's Opinion as to the Source of
England's Strength--Letter of 14th September, 1855 155-175
CHAPTER VI.
Numerical List of Killed And Wounded in the various
Regiments forming the Crimean Army--Loss of the Light and
Second Divisions--Loss by Neglect, Hardships, and
Starvation--List of the Regiments that formed the various
Divisions of the Army--After the Siege--Lines on Miss
Florence Nightingale--A Peep Behind the Scenes--A Dreadful
Explosion in the Camp and its Consequences--Lieut. Hope and
the Fusiliers again leading almost to certain death--My
Letter of 26th December, 1855, to my Parents.--Concluding
Remarks, and Return Home to be nearly Killed with
Kindness.--Irish Anecdotes--Records of the Royal
Fusiliers--A Sketch of the "Holy Boys"--The Connaught
Rangers not to be despised--Letter Home, 27th October,
1854--Lines on the Campaign 176-250
CHAPTER VII.
India, its Extent and Resources--Its Population--Its
Invasion by Alexander--The beginning of the English Empire
in India--The East India Company and its Officers--How the
Empire was Extended--The Afghan Campaign of 1839-40-41--The
Sikh War--Battle of Ferozeshah--The Norfolk Regiment amongst
those who Safeguarded England's honour--Battle of
Aliwal--The "Holy Boys" again Leading the way--The Burmese
War--Our Sepoy Army and how it was treated--The Mutiny
Predicted--The Commencement of the Mutiny in
1857--Comparative Numbers of Native and British
Troops--Mungul Pandy, the First Mutineer--Fatal Indecision
of our Commanders--The Revolting Scenes at Delhi--List of
the People Killed by the Rebels--The Force that first
encountered the Mutineers--Rapid Spread of the Mutiny--Nana
Sahib's Proclamation--The Butchery of Women and
Children--Delhi Captured and the Mutineers put to the sword,
by a Norfolk Man, Sir Archdale Wilson--The Delhi Field Force
and its killed and wounded--Vengeance exacted--Disarming
Mutinous Regiments--Description of the Scene--Blowing Rebels
from the Guns--The 10th (Lincolnshire) Regiment at Benares
251-300
CHAPTER VIII.
The Task before Sir Colin Campbell--Disaster at
Arrah--Relief by Major Eyre--Attempted Surprise at
Agra--Short, sharp work--The Mutiny in Oude--Relief of
Lucknow by Sir Colin Campbell--The Fighting--Withdrawal of
the Garrison--Return to Cawnpore--General Windham in
Difficulties--Nana Sahib Defeated--Lucknow again Invested,
and again Relieved--Sikhs and Ghoorkas Fighting on our
side--Death of Captain Hodson--Flying Columns Formed--Our
Loss in following the Mutineers--The Proclamation of
Pardon--Disarming the Native Troops--The Mutineers at
Meean-Meer--Jack Ketch and his Victims--The Outbreak on the
Frontier in 1858--The 7th Royal Fusiliers at
Peshawur--Native Thieves--A Forced March--Encounter with the
Enemy--A Truce--Hostilities Resumed--Bravery of the
Ghoorkas--The Fusiliers Return to Ferozepore--March to
Saugor (Central India)--Ravages of Cholera--Personal Opinion
as to the Natives of India--The Ways, Manners and Customs of
the People--Taking the Census--The Steps taken to Prevent
another Mutiny--Letters from India 301-379
CHAPTER IX.
List of Battles Fought by Land between 1704 and 1882,
showing Date when each was Fought, the Number we Lost, the
supposed Number of the Enemy's Loss, the Regiments that
Fought them, and a few Remarks upon some of them--First
Action of the 15th Hussars--A Gallant Regiment of
Tailors--Singular Description of a Deserter, from _London
Gazette_, 1689--An Account of the Rise of the late Duke of
Wellington--Loss of each Regiment on the Field of
Waterloo--Some of the Duke's Letters about the Field of
Waterloo--Napoleon and the French Press--The British Amazon
380-416
CHAPTER X.
Curious Modes of Recruiting in the "Good Old Days"--Pig
Killing--The Late Duke of Kent--Examples of Brevity--Act of
Self Devotion--The Piper of the 74th Highlanders at
Badajoz--It is better to leave "Well" Alone--Hard up! Hard
up!--Remarkable Wounds and Hairbreadth Escapes--Introduction
of Bayonets into our Army, and the use our people have made
of them since 1672 up to the late go-in in Egypt, at
Tel-el-Kebir--Desperate Defence of Colours--Heroic Stands by
Small Armies against overwhelming Odds--The 52nd
Regiment--Suffolk Regiments--England not a Military Nation?
417-452
CHAPTER XI.
The Great Book--Mysteries of Providence--The Gift of a Bible
and what it led to--The Secrets of the Sacred
Shrine--Opinions of a Native Hindoo Priest. 453-464
CHAPTER XII.
General Sir Henry Havelock, K.C.B.--Stories of his
Boyhood--Joins the Army--His Military Career--Promotion a
long time in coming--His Merits gradually being
Recognised--Employed in various important affairs--The
Christian Commander and his Regiment of "Saints"--His
Advance to the Capture of Cawnpore--The Horrible Atrocities
that were committed by the Mutineers--The Heavy Losses of
the Avenging Army--The Relief of Lucknow--The Closing
Scene--"See how a Christian can Die"--His Death-bed Advice
to his Son--Reflections--The Lessons to be Learned from the
Life of such a Christian Hero--The Loss to the
Country--Lines "In Memoriam" 465-486
CHAPTER XIII.
Captain Hedley Vicars, a Loving Son and a Faithful Soldier
of the Cross--His Early Life--Joins the Army, and devotes
himself to his chosen profession--His eyes opened to Truths
of the Gospel--Prayerful Conduct--In the Crimea--Killed in a
Night Attack on the Trenches--The Feeling of the Men
composing Light Division--Letters to his Mother--Last
Letter--In Memoriam--Letter to Lord Rayleigh announcing his
Death--Letter from a Brother Officer--Testimony of Private
Soldiers to his worth--The Lessons of his Life 487-501
CHAPTER XIV.
The Black Watch--The British Army, 1889 502-535
CHAPTER XV.
The Cost of War--The Bloody Fields of Eylan and
Friedland--The Great Northern Confederation--Nelson and the
Russian Emperor--Battle of Trafalgar--British Victories in
Spain--Napoleon's disastrous Russian Campaign--Prussia
Powerless and Bankrupt--Good reason for German
Vindictiveness--Battles of Lutzen & Bautzen--England assists
Austria--The terrible Battle of Dresden--German Triumph at
Kutczback--Battles of Gross Beeren, Dennewitz, and
Leipsic--Napoleon beaten and sent to Elba--The Cost of War
in France alone--Flight from Elba--Quatre Bras, Wavre, and
Ligny--Battle of Waterloo--The Total Loss of the Allies in
this short Campaign--The Total French Loss--Concluding
Remarks 536-585
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
THE AUTHOR'S PORTRAIT _Frontispiece_
FIELD-MARSHAL LORD RAGLAN, K.C.B., _&c._ 17
GENERAL SIR GEORGE BROWN, G.C.B. 21
LIEUT-GENERAL SIR DE LACY EVANS 22
MAJOR-GENERAL SIR COLIN CAMPBELL (LORD CLYDE) 25
VIEW OF THE HEIGHTS OF ALMA 46
CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE AT BALACLAVA 59
PLAN OF THE HEAVY CAVALRY CHARGE 61
THE GUARDS AT INKERMANN 78
THE ATTACK ON THE TRENCHES, 22ND MARCH, 1855 110
THE FRENCH ATTACK ON THE MALAKOFF 159
INTERIOR OF THE REDAN AFTER ITS CAPTURE 167
A STREET IN SEBASTOPOL AFTER THE SIEGE 169
THE SCENE OF THE MASSACRES AT CAWNPORE 281
CAWNPORE WELL 286
BLOWING THE MUTINEERS FROM THE GUNS 295
GENERAL SIR HENRY HAVELOCK, K.C.B. 465
CAPTAIN HEDLEY VICARS, 97TH 487
CHAPTER I.
Boyhood--Enlistment--Will of Peter the Great--Recruits'
Drill--What the Fusiliers were 30 years ago--The Young Idea
had to be taught how to Shoot--The Fusiliers depart for the
East--The Writer quickly follows them--Voyage out--Call at
Gibraltar and Malta--Landing in Turkey--Its Scenery and
People--Marching and Counter-marching--The Unseen Enemy
"Cholera"--Embark again for the Crimea, escorted by the
Fleets of England and France--An Account of the Services of
the Leader of the Crimean Army, Lord Raglan--also of Sir G.
Brown, Sir De Lacy Evans, Sir Colin Campbell, Sir George
Cathcart, and the Earl of Cardigan--Population of the
British Empire--Remarkable Battles that have been fought on
Sundays--Voyage up the Black Sea--The Russian Fleet.
I first saw the light of day in the quiet little town of Halesworth, in
Suffolk, on the 5th of April, 1834; my parents were good Christian
people, my father a Baptist minister. I remained with them in Halesworth
until I was about five years old, when I removed with them to Norwich. I
was brought up very comfortably; my boyish days being spent at school,
and, like many more, I was for ever getting out of one scrape into
another; evil companions led me into a number of things which when I
came to my senses I knew well to be wrong, and I was fast breaking the
hearts of those who wished me well; but, thank God, I was spared to bind
up some of the wounds that I then caused. I had my own way to a
dangerous length, through having a fond mother, who did all that lay in
her power to hide my mis-doings--which is a _fault_ that most boys will
in after life forgive, and with gratitude remember. Thus, year after
year rolled on. As a youth I admired much the appearance of a soldier,
little thinking of all that lay behind the scenes. I had read Nelson's
exploits from boyhood, studied all his principal battles, and learned
how he had forced our old enemies the French to tremble before him, till
his glorious deeds made the whole Nation love and adore him, while his
last thrilling words to his men will be remembered as long as our
language endures--"England expects that every man will do his duty,"--a
watchword that to this day inspires thousands in whose veins runs some
of the best blood of Britain. I also read with eagerness Wellington's
brilliant career through life, how he first beat the Indians, ten and
twelve to one, on various fields, and then rolled them up in a masterly
style at the battles of _Assaye_ and _Argaum_, returning home shortly
afterwards to find more employment for his master-mind in Spain,
Portugal, and France, and, eventually, striking down his spiteful enemy,
Napoleon, on the ever-memorable field of Waterloo. The reader may,
perhaps, from the foregoing form some idea as to the bent of my
mind,--"Death before dishonour."
In 1853 and the early part of 1854, as those of my readers who are old
enough will remember, the Turks were trying to defend themselves against
their ancient foes the Russians, and thrilling accounts were appearing
in our newspapers about the different fights at the seat of war on the
Danube. In March, 1854, the Western Powers, England and France, declared
war against Russia, and at once rushed to the assistance of "the sick
man," soon putting a different aspect upon the face of affairs, and
justifying the saying of that astute, though unscrupulous, general,
Napoleon I.--England and France united could dictate to the whole world.
The fighting had been raging between the "Big Bully" (Russia) and the
"Sick Man" (Turkey) for upwards of twelve long months; and, although the
Turks then fought desperately for hearths and homes, numbers began to
prevail, and in despair he called upon England and France to assist
him. All was done that could be thought of to try and avert a general
war; kind words were used both by England and France, but these did not
avail. Russia was finally requested to withdraw her vast armies from
Turkish soil. But, no! despotic Russia was blinded by fury. The
hereditary policy of Peter the Great was being carried out; the prey was
at her feet, and, rather than relinquish it, she would dare the two
strongest nations on the face of the globe. The "holy will" of Peter the
Great, I would here remind the reader, is always before the eyes of the
Czars and Statesmen of Russia; and their over-mastering policy, let the
consequences be what they may, is, therefore, animated by a spirit of
aggrandisement. This will is worth reading, and I have taken the liberty
of transcribing it, as it supplies the key to that crafty policy which
the Muscovite power is for ever steadily pursuing.
WILL OF PETER THE GREAT.
"In the name of the Holy and Indivisible Trinity, We, Peter
and Emperor of all the Russias, to all Our Successors on the
Throne and in the Government of the Russian
Nation--Providence has evidently designed Russia to be the
Conqueror and Ruler of all Europe, and of the World."
He then lays down the following rules for the attainment of that
object:--
RULES.
I. The Russian Nation must be constantly on a war footing to
keep the soldiers warlike, and in good condition. No rest
must be allowed, except for the purpose of relieving the
State Finances, recruiting the army, or biding the
favourable moment of attack. By these means peace is made
subservient to war, and war to peace, in the interest of the
aggrandisement and increasing prosperity of Russia.
II. Every possible means must be used to invite, from the
most cultivated European States, commanders in war, and
philosophers in peace, to enable the Russian Nation to
participate in the advantages of other nations without
losing any of its own.
III. No opportunity must be lost of taking part in the
affairs and disputes of Europe, especially in those of
Germany, which from its vicinity is of the most direct
interest to us.
IV. Poland must be divided by keeping up constant jealousies
and confusions there, the authorities must be gained over
with money, and the Assemblies corrupted so as to influence
the election of the Kings. We must get up a party of our own
there, send Russian troops into the country and let them
sojourn there so long that they may ultimately find a
pretext for remaining there for ever; should the
neighbouring States make difficulties, we must appease them
for the moment by allowing them a share of the territory
until we can safely resume what we have thus given away.
V. We must take away as much territory as possible from
Sweden, and contrive that they shall attack us first, so as
to give us a pretext for their subjugation; with this object
in view, we must keep Sweden in opposition to Denmark, and
Denmark to Sweden, and seditiously foster their mutual
jealousies.
VI. The consorts of the Russian Princes must always be
chosen from among the German Princesses, in order to
multiply our family alliances with the Germans, and so unite
our interests with theirs; and thus, by consolidating our
influence in Germany, to cause it to attach itself
spontaneously to our policy.
VII. We must be careful to keep up our commercial alliance
with England, for she is the power which has most need of
our products for her navy, and at the same time may be of
the greatest service to us in the development of our own. We
must export wood and other articles in exchange for her
gold, and establish permanent connections between her
merchants and seamen and our own.
VIII. We must keep steadily extending our frontiers
northward along the Baltic, and southward along the shores
of the Black Sea.
IX. We must progress as much as possible in the direction of
_Constantinople_, and _India_; he who can once get
possession of these places is the real ruler of the world.
With this view we must provoke constant quarrels, at one
time with Turkey and at another with Persia; we must
establish wharves and docks in the Euxine, and by degrees
make ourselves masters of that sea as well as the Baltic,
which is a doubly-important element in the success of our
plan; we must hasten the downfall of Persia and push on into
the Persian gulf, if possible re-establish the ancient
commercial intercourse with the Levant through Syria, and
force our way into the Indies, which are the storehouses of
the world; once there we can dispense with _English gold_.
X. Moreover, we must take pains to establish and maintain an
intimate union with Austria, apparently countenancing her
schemes for future aggrandisement in Germany, and all the
while secretly arousing the jealousies of the minor States
against her. In this way we must bring it to pass that one
or the other party shall seek aid from Russia, and thus we
shall exercise a sort of protectorate over the country,
which will pave the way for future supremacy.
XI. We must make the House of Austria interested in the
expulsion of the Turks from Europe, and we must neutralise
its jealousy at the capture of Constantinople, either by
pre-occupying it with a war with the old European States, or
by allowing it a share of the spoil, which we can afterwards
resume at our leisure.
XII. We must collect round our House, as round a centre, all
the detached sections of Greeks which are scattered abroad
in Hungary, Turkey, and South Poland. We must make them look
to us for support, and then, by establishing beforehand a
sort of ecclesiastical supremacy, we shall pave the way for
universal sovereignty.
XIII. When Sweden is ours, Persia vanquished, Poland
subjugated, Turkey conquered--when our armies are united,
and the Euxine and the Baltic are in the possession of our
fleets--then we must make separate and secret overtures,
first to the Court of Versailles and then to that of Vienna,
to share with them the dominion of the world. If either of
them accept our propositions, which is certain to happen if
their ambitions and self-interest are properly worked upon,
we must make use of the one to annihilate the other; this
done, we have only to destroy the remaining one by finding a
pretext for a quarrel, the issue of which cannot be
doubtful, as Russia will then be already in the absolute
possession of the East and of the best part of Europe.
XIV. Should the improbable case happen of both rejecting the
propositions of Russia, then our policy will be to set one
against the other, and make them tear each other to pieces.
Russia must then watch for and seize the favourable moment
and pour her already-assembled hosts into Germany, while two
immense fleets, laden with Asiatic hordes and conveyed by
the armed squadrons of the Euxine and the Baltic, set sail
simultaneously from the Sea of Azoff and the Harbour of
Archangel, sweeping along the Mediterranean and the
Atlantic, they will overrun France on the one side, while
Germany is overpowered on the other. When these countries
are fully conquered the rest of Europe must fall--must fall
easily and without a struggle--under one yoke. Thus Europe
can and must be subjugated.
In the spirit of this extraordinary document, the Czars of Russia have
ruled and plotted ever since the days of Peter; but the sequel of this
little book will help to prove how Holy Russia was chastised and
checkmated upon field after field, the strongest fortress in her Empire
torn from her grasp, and eventually, in spite of her vast army, she was
compelled to eat a large amount of humble pie, made by a pastry-cook
that Peter the Great had not thought much of, viz:--Mr. John Bull. The
lesson thus read to her was severe enough; but it would appear as if in
the lapse of time much of it has been forgotten. If so, Britain's sons
may be called upon to repeat it--and they will, too, if ever Russia
attempts to interfere with India. Mr. Bull has a "pretty rod in pickle"
for Russia or any other power that should dare to encroach upon our
Indian Empire; for, if roused, we could put more men into the field in
India than Russia, with all her boasted strength, could muster.
For the solemn sentence this day confronts Russia on the frontier of
Afghanistan, "Hitherto shalt thou come, but no farther." The proud and
dauntless Briton exclaims, "Behind this boundary all is mine;" back! or
take the consequence of confronting a free, happy and united people who
number 300,000,000, that do not want to find a pretext for a quarrel
with its neighbours; but the voice of millions of faithful British
subjects proclaims with determination we will not yield one inch of soil
to any despotic power; we offer you peace with one hand with sincerity,
and war to the knife with the other rather than dishonour.
I was now fast approaching my twentieth year--a dangerous age to many
unsettled in mind; and the thrilling accounts that were constantly
coming home from the East, worked me up to try my luck as others had
done before me, so, in the early part of January 1854, I enlisted into
one of the smartest regiments of our army, the Royal Fusiliers. I
selected this regiment for its noble deeds of valour under Lord
Wellington, in the Peninsular. They, the old Fusiliers, had made our
enemies, the French, shake on many a hard-fought field. Let the reader
just look over the record of the "Battles of the British Army," or
"Napier's Peninsula," and he will remember the Royal Fusiliers, as a
Briton, with pride, as long as he lives. View them at _Albuera_, 16th
May, 1811. I would borrow Napier's pithy language about them--"Nothing
could stop the astonishing Infantry: how, inch by inch and foot by foot,
they gained the heights of Albuera with a horrid carnage; swept the
entire host of France from before them; gave them a parting volley, and
then stood triumphant, fifteen hundred unconquerable British soldiers
left out of the proud army of England, which that morning had exceeded
six thousand combatants." "They had not died for nothing," for the
French military historians acknowledged that ever after that they
approached the British Infantry with a scared feeling of distrust, for
these never knew when they were beaten. A corps like that might be
destroyed, but not easily defeated. Thus, my lot was cast with a
regiment that had in days of yore planted the Standard of Old England in
many a "hot corner," and was destined to do it again. The deeds of the
good loyal old corps had been handed down from father to son; and I
found some of the right sort of stuff in it, men that would do or die,
and dare everything that lay in their power to keep up the reputation of
the regiment, whose motto was "Death or Victory."
On joining I was about 6ft. high, very active and steady, was soon
brought to the notice of my officers, and went up the ladder of
promotion pretty quickly. A month or two after I had joined, had got
over the goose step, and had been taught how to "catch flies," war was
declared by our Government, in conjunction with France, against Russia.
All regiments were at once put upon a war footing, and thousands who had
an appetite for a little excitement or hard knocks, rushed to the
Standard; while those who only liked pipe-claying and playing at
soldiers, soon got out of the way by retiring upon "urgent private
affairs."
"War is honourable
In those who do their native rights maintain;
In those whose swords an iron barrier are
Between the lawless spoiler and the weak."
_Baillie._
Those of my readers who are old enough will remember the pitch of
excitement to which the blood of Old England was worked up: the eyes of
the whole world were turned upon us; the deeds of our forefathers had
not been forgotten--their exploits had astonished the civilised world;
both by land and sea they had been the admiration of all, whether friend
or foe, when led by such commanders as the immortal Nelson and the Iron
Duke. We, their descendants, were about to face in deadly conflict the
strongest and most subtle nation of the civilized world, that could
bring into the field one million of bayonets, swayed by despotic power.
But numbers were not taken into consideration, our only cry was "Let's
get at them." The Fusiliers were quickly made up to about one thousand
strong, and embarked at Southampton on the 5th of April, 1854, for the
East, under command of an officer who afterwards proved himself one of
the bravest of the brave, Col. Lacy Walter Yea, a soldier in every sense
of the word, both in the field and out of it; just the right man in the
right place to command such a corps as the Royal Fusiliers.
In marching out of the Barracks at Manchester to the railway station,
one could have walked over the heads of the people, who were wrought up
to such a pitch of excitement as almost amounted to madness. Our
inspiring band in front struck up "The British Grenadiers," "The Girl I
left behind me," "We are going far away." Fathers shook hands with their
sons, and bade them farewell, while mothers embraced them; and then the
bands struck up "Cheer! boys, cheer!" which seemed to have a thrilling
effect upon the multitude, and to give fresh animation to the men. The
expressions from the vast crowd as our men marched along were, "Pur
them, Bill," "Remember Old England depends upon you," "Give them plenty
of cold steel and then pur them," "Keep up your pecker, old boy--never
say die," "Leave your mark upon them if you get a chance." At last the
noble old corps reached the railway station, and then there were
deafening shouts. Some cried, "We'll meet again, and give you a warm
reception when you come back;" then, after one hearty "God bless you"
from a vast multitude, away they went behind the iron horse. We had a
number of Manchester men in our ranks, and, although that town is noted
for its peace principles, they let the enemy know at the Alma,
Inkermann, and throughout the Campaign, that they knew how to fight.
Well, reader, the old Fusiliers have gone to help to carry out the
orders of our Government and Her Most Gracious Majesty--"God bless her."
But your humble servant is left behind to have a little more knocked
into his head in the way of marching and counter-marching, and the young
idea had to be taught how to shoot. It did not matter much where one
went--all the talk was about the gallant old corps, wishing them
God-speed and a safe return to their native isle. The depôt was soon
removed from Manchester to Winchester, where I completed my drill, and
with steadiness went up to the rank of corporal; and, about the 15th of
June, a strong draft was selected to join the service companies then in
Turkey. After having passed a close medical inspection, corporal T. G.
was told off for the draft; and it is not an easy thing to describe my
feelings. I deemed myself, I must acknowledge, a proud man; and felt
that the honour of our dear old isle hung upon my shoulders; I pictured
myself coming home much higher in rank, and with my breast covered with
honours, the gifts of a grateful country; but I little dreamed of the
hardships that were before me. My comrade, a good honest Christian,
quoted the following lines with a sparkling eye, at the same time
brandishing a stick over his head:--
Not once or twice in our proud island's story,
The path of duty was the way to glory.
_Shakespeare._
He fell at the Alma. The Searcher of all hearts knew well that he was
more fit to face Him than I was; his whole life was that of a Christian
from the day I first knew him, and he was never ashamed of his colours.
We marched out of Winchester about twelve hundred strong, detachments of
various regiments, with a light heart, nearly the whole of the good
people of that city marching with us. The same scenes were enacted as
at Manchester, when the regiment went off; we had hard work to get
through the people; there was many a fond farewell from broken-hearted
mothers, and many a tear was shed, for all that was near and dear to
many were just off to a foreign land, to back up the comrades who had
gone before. With a ringing cheer from some thousands of people wishing
us God-speed and a safe return to our native homes, away we went, and
were conveyed to Portsmouth in safety, duly arriving at the Port which
had in days of yore witnessed the departure of thousands of the bravest
sons of England to return no more. We found the people of Portsmouth a
warm-hearted set, and they gave us a genuine reception in sailor-like
fashion. In marching through the streets, which were thronged with
pretty girls, the bands in front struck up "The Girl I left behind me."
We had various greetings as we passed on to the Dock-yard, such as,
"Stick to them, my boys," "Give it them if you get a chance," "Remember
old England depends upon you," "We'll not forget you." With one
tremendous cheer we passed on into the Dock-yard, and thousands of
voices joined in shouting "Farewell, God bless you." We soon found
ourselves on board a noble ship--about twelve hundred fine young fellows
determined to "do or die," little dreaming of the hardships we should
have to encounter, hardships that no pen or tongue can adequately
describe. We cheered heartily for Old England and England's Queen. An
old General Officer told us to cheer when we came back, and we replied
that we would, for we were just in the right frame of mind to carry the
Standard of Old England through thick and thin, prepared to dare all the
legions that the "Czar of all the Russias" could bring against us, and
to stand shoulder to shoulder with our allies the French, in a foreign
land. Napoleon's words were now to be verified. The strongest nation in
the world had thrown down the gauntlet at the feet of France and
England, and Waterloo was now to be avenged by our uniting against the
disturber of the peace of Europe. The following pages will prove that,
with all their boasted strength, and that although fighting behind one
of the strongest fortifications in the whole world, the Russians came
off second best, and had to submit to the dictates of the flag that for
near one thousand years has proved itself, under good guidance, second
to none. Peter the Great, though he mentioned the gold of England,
forgot her steel and her "dumplings" that were so hard to digest, and
the haughty legions of Russia soon had to endure such a pounding at the
hands of the sons of Albion and Gaul, that they were glad to relinquish
the prey which they had almost within their grasp.
Well, off we went, steaming and sailing, out of Portsmouth, with any
amount of cheering and shouting. Next morning some of our fellows
appeared as if one good man could beat a dozen of them; they looked in a
most pitiable plight. They had not brought their sea legs with them and
it was blowing rather fresh--what the sailors call a nice breeze--and
those who could work and eat might do so for about forty-eight hours;
but the greater portion of those who had, only a few hours previous,
been making all the row they could, were lying all over the decks,
huddled up like so many dying ducks. I never was sea-sick, but I have
every reason to believe, from what I have seen of it, that it is not at
all desirable; my comrade, a strong young man of some twenty-four years,
was quite knocked up for some days, so I suppose I must not be too hard
upon the poor victims of _mal-de-mer_. In a few days, most of the men
were all right again; we passed two or three of our ocean bull-dogs and
plenty of other ships homeward-bound; had nothing particular to note,
but that we were going out to defend a rotten cause, a race that almost
every Christian despises. However, as soldiers we had nothing to do
with politics,--we had simply to carry out the orders of Her Most
Gracious Majesty and her Government.
We called at the Rock and took in coal, staying there one day, so that
we had a good look at that wonderful place, which is the eyesore of
Spain, and likely to remain so, for she will never get it again. It is
immensely strong, nature and art having combined to render it well-nigh
impregnable, and our people are not likely to be starved into a
capitulation, as we constantly keep there some seven years' food for
about ten thousand troops. I do not believe an enemy's ship could float
near it, while on the land side the approach is very narrow and most
securely defended. At any rate, the Spaniards will scarcely be foolhardy
enough to make the attempt; if they do, they will find it a very hard
nut to crack.
Off we went again, up the Mediterranean and on to Malta. We found it
unpleasantly hot, but there was plenty of life--the place seemed full of
Maltese, English, French, Germans, Swiss, Italians, in fact
representatives of all nations of the earth, except Russians, and these
we were on the way to look up. Malta appears to be admirably defended;
we had a good look around it and at some of its huge forts. The Maltese
boys, or I should rather say children, much amused us by their smartness
in diving right under the ship and coming up with a piece of the coin of
the realm in their mouths, immediately going down again after another. I
never witnessed any one staying under water so long as these boys did,
they seemed to be quite at home paddling on their side around the ship,
in fact they appeared to have quite an amphibious nature.
As soon as we got coal, off we went again--on to Varna. They quickly put
us on shore, and right glad were we to get there, for it is not very
comfortable in a troopship--shut up, with scarcely standing room,
constantly being pitched and tossed about, especially if you should
happen to lose your balance and come down "soft upon the hard," with
your face in contact with some of the blocks, and have a lot of sailors
grinning at you--for they do not seem to have any pity for a poor fellow
staggering about like a drunken man.
Well, we parted with our sailors on the best of terms; we had found them
a fine jolly lot. At Varna we found ourselves mixed up with Turks,
Egyptians, French, English, Maltese, Jews, Greeks, &c., it was a regular
Babel. Our new allies, the French, were remarkably civil, and their
artillery were fine-looking men. We were at once marched off to join our
regiments. The old 7th formed a part of the Light Division under Sir G.
Brown, at Monistier, about twenty miles from Varna. Sir G. Brown was a
veteran who had won his spurs on many a hard fought field against our
old enemies the French; but we were now allies, and all old sores must
be forgotten and buried six feet deep; we had now one common foe--the
Russians--to face; and shoulder to shoulder we were about to fight.
Monistier appeared a very pleasant place. There were all sorts of sports
got up in the camp to keep up the men's spirits, which was much needed;
we had an unseen enemy in the midst of us--cholera--that was daily
finding and carrying off its victims. We were soon away,
cholera-dodging, from camp to camp, or place to place; it was sweeping
off our poor fellows so very fast. Our colonel looked well after his
Regiment, particularly the draft. We were equally divided amongst the
companies; they found us plenty of work to do, making trenches,
batteries, gabions, marching and counter-marching. The French and
ourselves got on capitally, particularly the Zouaves, whom we found a
very jolly set, though they afterwards proved themselves a troublesome
lot to the enemy. It did not matter much where we went, we everywhere
found Turkey a most unhealthy place; while the Turks and
Bashi-Bazouks were a cut-throat looking crew, particularly the latter.
We marched back to Varna, and it began to be rumoured that we should
soon be off somewhere else. In the early part of August, the harbour of
Varna was partly full of transports, ready to ship us off again, and we
were heartily glad to get out of that; for we had lost a very great
number of men through cholera and fever. We lost the first English
officer in Turkey, Captain A. Wallace, who died from an injury received
in a fall from his horse while out hunting. The Turks struck me as a
queer lot, particularly the women, who did not seem to put themselves
out in the least, but were dirty and lazy-looking.
[Illustration: FIELD-MARSHAL LORD RAGLAN, K.C.B., &c.]
THE LEADER OF THE CRIMEAN ARMY.
In the hour of need Britons will ever do their duty. Our gallant
Commander, Lord Raglan, K.C.B., or, as he was known for many years, Lord
FitzRoy Somerset, was of noble blood, being the eighth son of the late
Duke of Beaufort, and was born in 1788. He entered the army in 1804,
being then a mere boy. Having wealth and plenty of influence at his
back, and a brilliant spirit, he soon brought himself into notice. He
was a captain in one of the finest disciplined regiments in our army
(the 43rd Light Infantry), which has proved itself on many a hard-fought
field second to none. At Vimiera (August 21st, 1808) this regiment
contributed largely towards routing the proud legions of France from the
field. That great General, Wellington, with the eye of an eagle, soon
detected our young hero's worth, and placed him on his staff, and we
find him by the side of his chief through field after field. It was on
grim Busaco's iron ridge (September 27th, 1810) that his Lordship
received his first wound, and it was there that the tide of French glory
was rolled back with terrible slaughter, upwards of 2000 being killed by
the British conquering bayonet alone. Again we find our hero on the
field of Fuentes de Oñoro, May 3rd and 5th, 1811, distinguishing himself
most brilliantly--again wounded but not subdued. We next find him, on
the 6th April, 1812, foremost among the storming party at the bloody
parapets of Badajoz, fighting with determination, and encouraging the
43rd to desperate deeds of valor. How he escaped that terrible night's
slaughter was almost a miracle, for near 5000 of our poor fellows lay in
front of those deadly breaches. Then we find him beside his chief on the
field of Salamanca, July 22nd, 1812, taking a distinguished part on that
memorable occasion. A French officer stated that 40,000 of his
unfortunate countrymen had been rolled up and routed from the field in
forty minutes. Wellington was one too many for Marshall Mormant, who was
completely out-generalled, and his army defeated in detail by the
conquering sons of Albion, side by side with the heroic boys of the
Emerald Isle. It was on this field that the 88th, or Connaught Rangers,
immortalized themselves. Lord FitzRoy Somerset was to be seen in all
parts of the field, delivering orders from his commander. Next we hear
of him on the plains of Vittoria, June 21st, 1813, by the side of his
chief wherever the fight was hottest, doing all that he could to
encourage and animate the men. Here it was that the legions of France
were completely routed, leaving all their guns in the hands of the
victors. This was the most disastrous defeat the French had as yet
received; they lost all, including their honour, for they ran like a
flock of frightened sheep, throwing away their arms in order to escape
the devouring swords of our Cavalry, who chased them for miles from the
field. We next trace his lordship through all the battles of the
Pyrenees--ten in number. At times Wellington moved so quickly that Lord
FitzRoy was the only one of all his brilliant staff who could keep up
with him. Napoleon's pet General, Soult, had to bow before the
all-conquering British bayonets. Our young hero still kept by the side
of his chief, and we find him on the fields of Nevelle, Orthes, and
Toulouse, adding to his renown through all those memorable struggles,
ever prompt in performing his duties, and amongst the foremost and the
bravest of the brave; not second, even to the fiery Picton, Crawford,
Evans, Brown, Campbell, or Napier. He was a true type of a Briton. If
there was a "hot corner" he was sure to find it. He had now fought his
last fight in the Peninsula. Buonaparte had been crushed by combined
Europe, whose armies had been kept in the field by English gold through
two campaigns, viz., 1813-14. Napoleon's wings being clipped, he was
sent to the Isle of Elba, as a state prisoner, with an annual revenue of
6,000,000 francs to be paid by France. Peace was signed on the 30th May,
1814, between the allied Powers--England, Austria, Russia, and Prussia
on the one hand, and France on the other; and our young hero returned
home with his commander. But the peace was of short duration. Napoleon
burst from his narrow prison, and once more landing in France, set the
whole of Europe in a blaze. An army was consequently sent into Belgium,
under command of the Iron Duke. Lord Somerset again accompanied him, and
was present at the memorable battles of Quatre-Bras and Waterloo, where
the conqueror of nations, backed by an army of grim Veterans, again
essayed to bid defiance to the British hosts. I must not, however,
attempt to go into the details of those lights now. Some of the best
blood of Britain was spilt there, and Lord Somerset was desperately
wounded; but he helped to strike the tyrant down to rise no more. After
the lapse of only a few months, our hero, though he left his right arm
on the field of Waterloo, again joined his chief in France, and remained
at his post till the conclusion of peace. Subsequently he was employed
in various capacities at the Horse Guards, until the breaking out of
the Crimean War, when he was selected to command the army sent out to
Turkey, and from thence to the Crimea. I have not the slightest
hesitation in saying that his lordship was looked up to by the whole
army with veneration. Under fire he was as "cool as a cucumber"--did not
seem to put himself out in the least; he was very kind in his manner,
but yet as brave as lion. At the Alma his lordship was in the thick of
the fight, giving his orders as calmly as if no bullets or shells were
flying around him. At Inkermann he sat his horse as collectedly as on
parade, although death was raging around. But, I must not here attempt
to enumerate his deeds through that trying campaign. On the return of
the victorious troops, after taking the Quarries and the Circular
Trench, his lordship thanked us for the manner in which we had done our
duty, and promised to report all for the information of Her Most
Gracious Majesty. Such words when uttered by a Commander-in-Chief are
always grateful to soldiers' ears, and go far to reward them for any
arduous labour they may have undergone; but praise coming from Lord
Raglan was felt to be more than ordinarily inspiring, for his lordship
was no stranger to the trying ordeal we had just passed through. The
fighting had been terrible, and he could appreciate the manner in which
his orders had been carried out; all had been left to the bayonet. It
was then, as it had often been in his lordship's younger days, England
and Ireland side by side. But our noble commander's end was now fast
approaching. His lordship was not at all well, although his indomitable
spirit would not yield; but the weighty responsibility of the disastrous
mishap, or repulse, of the 18th June, 1855, was too much for him: it
broke his heart, and he sank rapidly. But, reader, "his end was peace."
He could say with Job, "I know that my Redeemer liveth;" and he quietly
sank into the arms of that Lord and Master, whom he had not been
ashamed to acknowledge before men.
THE GENERALS OF DIVISION.
The following is a brief statement of the vast amount of service of the
gallant veterans who commanded the three divisions (Light, 1st, and 2nd)
that were destined to bear the brunt of the fighting from the Alma to
the fall of Sebastopol; and under this head we will include the hero of
Inkermann, Sir G. Cathcart, the commander of the 4th division.
[Illustration: GENERAL SIR GEORGE BROWN, G.C.B.]
LIEUT-GENERAL SIR GEORGE BROWN.
The commander of the Light Division was Lieut.-General Sir George Brown,
K.C.B. Sir George was a Scotchman. He joined the army in 1806, and his
first service was in Sicily. He went all through the Peninsular war,
under our great captain, Wellington, and frequently distinguished
himself; but as he was a poor man, and had none to help him on, he was
"left out in the cold." Others who had plenty of cash and influence
jumped over his head, although they had never smelt powder. Sir George
was present at the following battles in Portugal:--Roliça, 17th August,
1808; Vimiera, 21st August, 1808; Almeida, September, 1808. At these
places he showed the metal he was made of. The Duke acknowledged that he
had "done his duty," and there it ended. At Busaco (September 27th,
1810), he was engaged in a severe hand-to-hand conflict with one of the
staff of Marshal Massena, and proved the victor. At Badajoz he greatly
distinguished himself, proving to the whole army that he was one of the
bravest of the brave. Here he was wounded, and the Duke again
acknowledged that he had done his duty. From Roliça (1808) to Toulouse
(10th April, 1814), in storming parties and battles in Spain, Portugal,
America, and the Netherlands, he had proved himself a cool, determined
man, but was still only a captain; his crime was that he was poor;
talent and bravery were not in those days taken into consideration. But
still he held on and served his country faithfully wherever he was sent,
and the sequel will show that the fire was not all out of him; his
conduct at the Alma was grand, and at Inkermann he gave his orders as
coolly as if he had been talking to his gardener, and firmly faced the
foe until he fell wounded and reluctantly left the field.
[Illustration: LIEUT.-GENERAL SIR DE LACY EVANS, K.C.B., &c.]
LIEUT.-GENERAL SIR DE LACY EVANS.
This General had proved himself second to none on many a hard-fought
field in India, Spain, Portugal, America, the Netherlands, and Spain
again--where all were brave he would lead the way. He was an Irishman;
and his drawback, under the old dispensation, was his obscure position.
Mr. Evans entered the army as a volunteer, and by his dauntless
bravery obtained a commission on the 1st February, 1807. He was
present at the taking of Mauritius, and for his valour was promoted
to a Lieutenancy, in December, 1808. But here he was destined to stop
for years, although his conduct had been brought to the notice of the
then Commander-in-Chief and the public at large, but a "piece of red
tape" had got in front of him. He could lead the way through the deadly
breach repeatedly, but that bit of red tape he could not get over.
The facts may seem incredible, but they are true, and history will
attest it. His next service was in India, in the Deccan. He remained
in India until 1810; was engaged against Ameer Khan, and was once more
brought to notice for his talents and bravery, but still he remained
a plain Lieutenant. In 1812 he joined the army in Spain, and greatly
distinguished himself at the retreat from Burgas; he was wounded, but
kept his post throughout the battle. At Vittoria, June 21st, 1813, his
conduct was such that he was the admiration of his whole regiment--the
3rd Dragoons. At Salamanca he attracted the notice of Wellington, who,
unfortunately, never troubled himself much about daring obscure men.
All he got was, "Evans has done his duty;" but he remained a Lieutenant
still. Shortly afterwards his horse was killed under him, and he
received a contusion in the fall. At Badajoz, he led the forlorn hope,
and was wounded. At San Sebastian, he volunteered to lead the assault
and was wounded. At Toulouse (April 10th, 1814) he had two horses
killed under him, and was twice wounded. Will it be believed that this
gallant veteran, so often wounded, after all his brilliant services,
remained at the end of the Peninsular war still a Lieutenant? Peace
having been made with France, our hero sailed for America with General
Ross, his fellow-countryman. At the battle of Bladensburg Mr. Evans
had two horses killed under him, and was again wounded. He received
the thanks of his commander for his conduct. The same day, Lieut.
Evans led the stormers at Washington, and took it, with an enormous
booty; the upshot was the complete rout of the enemy and the American
Government: and although General Ross did his best to obtain promotion
for Mr. Evans, the hero of Washington remained a Lieutenant still. At
Baltimore the Americans were again defeated, and Mr. Evans was once
more thanked by his commander for the dashing manner in which he had
led a portion of the 3rd Dragoons, but no promotion followed, although
strongly recommended by the General commanding. The next exploit of
our hero was to lead a boarding expedition at a part of the American
fleet. Mr. Evans was the only military man employed; he was thanked for
his conduct, but there it ended. At New Orleans our arms suffered a
reverse, but Mr. Evans was said to have nobly done his duty. He shortly
afterwards returned to England, and was made a captain in (what do you
think, reader?) _a black, or West Indian regiment_--thus adding insult
to injury. Well, well, those days are past, but if this is a sample of
the "good old times," it is a happy thing that they are long gone by.
War soon again broke out with Napoleon, and Captain Evans's services
were requisitioned. On the field of Waterloo, he was again wounded;
and it was acknowledged by those in high position that Captain Evans
fought with conspicuous gallantry, leading our heavy cavalry on against
Napoleon's Cuirassiers; but no further promotion followed. He next
entered the Spanish service, commanding a British Legion, and there
he carried all before him. He reached the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel
in 1835, after twenty-eight years' service (it took Wellington only
twenty-six years to reach the rank of Field Marshal). This was the
"grand old man," who commanded us at Little Inkermann, October 26th,
1854. His conduct at the Alma and the two Inkermanns, was that of a
tried veteran, cool and determined to conquer or die; the music of
shot, shell, grape, canister, and musketry, had not much effect upon
his nerves; but he would not throw his men's lives away unnecessarily.
On the morning of the 5th November, he was on board ship at Balaclava
sick, but when he heard the booming of the guns, his practised ear
knew well that something serious was going on; the honour of the
flag he loved so well was in danger, and, as a true and loyal son of
Emerald's Isle, he at once landed and rode on to the memorable field
of Inkermann. Although his arm was feeble he could assist with his
counsel, for nothing could disturb his iron will but death. He passed
through that fiery ordeal without a scratch. He was in all parts of the
field, but as tranquil as if he was out for a country ride. Such was
the hero of a hundred fights.
[Illustration: LORD CLYDE, K.C.B., &c.
_Better known as Sir Colin Campbell._]
MAJOR-GENERAL SIR COLIN CAMPBELL.
This hero joined the army in 1808, and few lived to see more hard
fighting--he was a regular fire-eater. He started from humble life, and,
by dint of rough soldiering and an unconquerable spirit, fought his way
to the top of the tree; and I may say honestly that few officers in our
army, or any other, have been in half the number of battles. From 1808
to 1858 his was one continual blaze of triumph in all parts of the
globe. We trace him from the field of Corunna, on which his noble
countryman, Sir John Moore, met a soldier's death, to the final relief
and capture of Lucknow. Neither Sir De Lacy Evans, Sir George Brown, Sir
Charles Napier, nor the great Dukes of Marlborough and Wellington, ever
fought more battles than Lord Clyde; and I might almost challenge the
admirers of the great Napoleon I. to show such a catalogue of victories
as this gallant son of Scotland. In his maiden fight he proved he was of
the right sort of stuff to make a soldier. He was cool and collected,
and evidently determined to achieve victory or perish in the attempt. He
joined the Walcheren expedition, participating in the cruel sufferings
that destroyed nearly the whole army. It was an ill-fated enterprise,
and badly commanded--so much for favouritism; but the less we say about
it the better. However, even here Sir Colin Campbell contrived to reap
some "glory"--as our neighbours delight to call it. From 1809 to 1814 he
served under Wellington, in the Peninsula, upon field after field, from
Vimiera through such fights as would make the much-lauded heroes of
Tel-el-Kebir blush. We trace him through all the great conflicts that
won for his commander a dukedom, and compelled the nations of Europe to
respect our glorious old flag. The so-called "invincible" sons of France
had to yield the palm to the sons of Albion, and in struggle after
struggle their much-vaunted battalions had to give way before our
irresistible wall of steel. Shoulder to shoulder with Napier, Evans, and
Brown, Sir Colin Campbell was among the foremost in the forlorn hope at
Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, and at the deadly breach of San
Sebastian,--leading on to almost certain death; and, although repeatedly
wounded, nothing could daunt, nothing dismay, this valiant Highland
Laddie. He was ever prominent, and helped very materially to achieve
some of the grandest victories ever won by British soldiers. But he was
poor, and little notice was taken of him; it was recorded of him that he
had done his duty, and there it ceased. Nevertheless, he carved out for
himself a name that will not readily be forgotten. The hero of San
Sebastian, Chillianwala, Alma, Balaclava, and Lucknow will be
remembered, I fearlessly assert, not only in Scotland, but throughout
the British Empire, with pride for ages to come; for he was ever
prominent wherever hard knocks were to be served out, and he was
acknowledged by those who were competent to judge to be a most
brilliant, heroic, and dashing soldier. He led no end of storming
parties, and some of the most desperate forlorn hopes that ever man
undertook, in all parts of the world. Repeatedly wounded, as I have
said, his spirit was not subdued. This gallant soldier appeared to have
a charmed life, for he always turned up at the right time and place, to
have the lion's share of the fighting. He had a good share of fights in
India, as Colonel Campbell, under Lord Gough. It was he who decided the
doubtful field of Chillianwala by leading the 61st regiment on to a
rapid, though prolonged and headlong, bayonet charge. He was wounded,
but kept his post, as he had often done before. Again, on the field of
Goojerat he fought with the same dauntless courage, which elicited the
highest applause from the hero of Borrosa, Lord Gough. We next find him
beside the conqueror of Scinde, Sir C. Napier. We shortly after trace
him up to Peshawur, fighting the lawless hill tribes, subduing them, and
returning to England just in time to take part in the Crimean
expedition. At the Alma, he gave the finishing stroke to the Russians,
exclaiming, with all the fire of youth, and waving his sword high in the
air--"We'll have none but Highland bonnets here." After the enemy had
been routed, Lord Raglan, in thanking him for his conduct, asked him if
there was anything he could do for him, and his only request was _to be
allowed to wear a Highland bonnet_, which was granted. And ever after
that, Sir Colin might be seen wearing his Highland bonnet (to the great
delight of the Highland regiments) instead of the usual head-dress of a
General. He fought throughout that campaign, and returned home--one
would have thought, to end his days in peace, having spent nearly half a
century in the service of his country; but no, in 1857 the Indian Mutiny
broke out. The brightest gem in Her Most Gracious Majesty's diadem was
threatening to break loose. It was held only by a few desperate men, who
might die, but would never surrender. Men of Sir Colin's stamp were
wanting. He was sent for; and when asked how long it would take him to
prepare to proceed to India to assume the command, his answer was--"In
twenty-four hours;" history will tell how he rolled back the Mutineers
on field after field--all had to yield to his conquering sword. He left
the Empire safe, and won for himself a Field-Marshal's baton and a
Peerage. But his end was now fast approaching; he had fought his last
fight and made his way to the top of the tree in his old days. The only
thing that had kept this grand old hero back, had been, as they say in
India, "pice, pice," or money, money. Red-tape is never friendly to the
poor man, no matter how brave, or what his talents are. Sir Colin
Campbell had displayed a dauntless contempt of danger, wherever his
country's honour was at stake; and he lived to receive from his
countrymen addresses of the highest thanks and some of the most eloquent
eulogies that were ever penned or spoken about a British soldier. But at
last he had to ground his arms to King Death; and we may be sure he was
ready for the change.
LIEUT.-GENERAL SIR GEO. CATHCART.
It can be truly said of him that he was another of Britain's bravest
sons. He was born in the year 1794; at the age of sixteen he joined the
army, and was appointed to the 2nd Life Guards, remaining with them a
little over one year, when he exchanged into the 6th Dragoons, or
Carabineers. His whole soul was alive to the honour of the flag of Old
England, and he seemed to long to measure his sword with the enemies of
that flag. Napoleon Buonaparte was then at the summit of his power; and,
as he was backed up by upwards of 1,000,000 bayonets, it took brave
hearts with strong arms to subdue him. We first find young Cathcart in
Russia, by the side of his father, who had been appointed British
Ambassador to the Court of St. Petersburg. He went out as aide-de-camp
to his sire, and as such had various duties to perform. During the
invasion of Russia by Napoleon in 1812, young Cathcart attended upon the
Emperor, and engaged in some exciting and important scenes. He was
continually employed carrying despatches at the peril of his life, and
during that momentous period was never known to shirk his duties, but
ever courageously pressed forward, having frequently to swim his horses
across deep and rapid rivers, and to ride them until they dropped dead
beneath him. The Emperor of Russia often expressed both his astonishment
and his approbation at the fortitude of our young hero. At the battles
of Lutzen and Bautzen he showed prodigious strength, activity, and
courage. At the battle of Dresden he fought desperately, and was by the
side of one of the greatest generals of the day (Moreau), when he met a
soldier's death. Lieut. Cathcart had now shared in eight pitched
battles, and any number of combats. Napoleon had at last been baffled by
Russia's snow and England's gold, had to bow to the dictates of combined
Europe, and retire to the Isle of Elba, with the empty title of Emperor.
Lieut. Cathcart, although of a noble stock, had no friend in the
red-tape office, and the excuse for not promoting him was that he had
not served with the British army--although the Russian, Prussian, and
Austrian armies had been kept in the field by means of British gold. But
when the disturber of the world broke from his prison-house, on the Isle
of Elba, young George was again called upon to face his old enemy, and
we next find him on the fields of Quatre-Bras and Waterloo. For his
valor he was promoted, as was the hero of Washington, into a West India
or black regiment. But he was as true as steel; he was skilful in times
of peace, and as brave as a lion in the presence of the foe. He
well-merited the highest eulogy that could be bestowed upon a Briton. He
had only just returned from the Cape of Good Hope, after subjugating the
lawless Kaffir tribes, when the Crimean war broke out. He had served his
country for forty-four years, had passed through many a hard-fought
field, and had lived to trample beneath his feet and silence some of the
red-tape gentlemen. Sir George was now well-known, and those at the head
of affairs appointed him to command a division in the East. He had been
made a Knight Companion of the Bath, and had only just time to pay his
homage to Her Most Gracious Majesty and depart. His division was not
engaged at the Alma, but at Inkermann it fought courageously, and it was
on this field that our hero met a glorious death. He fell while engaged
in repulsing one of the bloodiest attacks made by the enemy on that
memorable field. Thus fell, in the hour of victory, one of Britain's
bravest sons; and if a chariot of fire had been sent to carry him to the
skies, he could not have departed in a brighter blaze of glory.
Oh! forget not the field where he fell
The truest and best of the brave.
Sir George had sprung from a family of warriors, who had often cheered
their men on to victory; and in him Britain lost a true hero, while
posterity will point to the field on which, for England's home and
glory, General Sir George Cathcart victoriously fell. Inkermann will
never be forgotten.
* * * * *
Before I close this branch of my subject, I must say a few words about
another of the commanders, and then my non-military readers will be able
to see more clearly the advantages which money and position in life
could secure in our army.
The Earl of Cardigan did not enter the army until he was about
twenty-seven years of age. He joined the 8th Hussars, in May, 1824, and
had scarcely learnt his drill when he was promoted Lieutenant; in
eighteen months more was advanced to a Captaincy (but not in a black
regiment). He smoothly passed through the different grades, and in six
years from the date of joining, found himself a Lieutenant-Colonel and
commander of a regiment. He had never smelt powder, and, in fact, had
never seen the enemies of his country; influence and money had done the
whole. I think the reader will agree with me that it was not a bit too
soon that the purchase system was discontinued. When the army was formed
for Turkey, in the early part of 1854, this distinguished veteran of the
ball-room was selected to command our light cavalry brigade; and right
gallantly did he lead that brigade at Balaclava, October 25th, 1854. It
was a dashing piece of work, and he did it well; but that was the sum
and substance of his lordship's services in the field, and of which we
shall never hear the end. Poor old Sir George Brown, Sir De Lacy Evans,
Sir Colin Campbell, Sir George Cathcart, and a host of others too
numerous to mention, had gone through and seen ten times as much service
long before they had reached the ripe age of twenty-one. So much for
money and position.
* * * * *
_Punch_, in 1855, might well put it that the Crimean army was an army of
lions led by donkeys. More than half the officers did not know how to
manoeuvre a company; all, or nearly so, had to be left to
non-commissioned officers; but yet it would be impossible to dispute
their bravery, for they were brave unto madness. The writer has seen
them lead at the deadly bayonet charges, and at the walls and
blood-stained parapets of Sebastopol, as freely as they would have led
off in a ball-room; and our officers at Inkermann let the enemy see that
they knew how to fight as well as to dance, for there was no
manoeuvring, nothing but plain hard-hitting, and fair English fighting
(not cooking).
* * * * *
There are none more loyal than the sons of Albion, and none more fond of
seeing royalty at the head of their fleets and armies. As far back as
Cressy, fought on the 26th August, 1346, when we gained a glorious
victory over the French, Edward III. commanded, and there his son, the
Black Prince (as he was named from the colour of his armour) had to, and
did, win his spurs. The last action when royalty was in command, was
Dettingen, fought 27th June, 1743. There George II. commanded. His son,
the Duke of Cumberland, was with him and was wounded. The King and his
son were in the thick of the fight, setting a bright example; and the
same language as he used was adopted by the Duke of Cambridge at
Inkermann, to animate the men, namely, "Stick to them, my boys; now for
the honour of old England." The gallant bearing of the Black Prince,
particularly his behaviour to his prisoners after the battle, was well
imitated by the Duke of Cumberland and the present Duke of Cambridge,
for they showed on each occasion the greatest attention to the poor
wounded prisoners. The Duke of Cumberland refused to have his wounds
dressed or attended to in any way until the French officers who had been
wounded and taken prisoners were first looked after. "Begin," said His
Royal Highness, "with that poor man, for he is more dangerously hurt
than I am." The Duke of Cambridge, at Inkermann, was in the midst of the
battle and it was almost a miracle how His Royal Highness escaped; but
the British soldier has good cause to thank God for throwing His
protecting arm around him. His Royal Highness has for many years proved
himself a good soldier's friend, both in the field and out of it; and,
when those of royal blood will lead, the enemy, whether black or white,
may look out, for they are going to get it hot. At Inkermann things
looked desperate. Our weak battalions were being fairly mobbed off the
field. We had no support, except the Almighty, and He defended the
right. At times the day appeared to us to be lost; but our troops
quickly recovered themselves, at last closed upon the enemy with the
queen of weapons, and then was seen with what determination Britons can
fight. At a critical moment, when almost surrounded by the overwhelming
numbers of the foe, His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge and a few
other officers again rallied the men, and on they went with a desperate
headlong charge. The bayonet was then used with effect; the vast columns
of the enemy came on and on again, to be repeatedly hurled back by those
who would die rather than yield an inch. Such was Inkermann, with the
soldier's friend in the thick of it. The Guards had a warm corner of it:
if there was one place hotter than another on that field they got into
it.
* * * * *
A slight digression may here he pardoned. The reader may not be aware of
it, but, strange to say, the most desperate battles that have ever been
fought have been fought on Sundays, particularly Palm, Easter, and Whit
Sundays. The following are a few of them, showing day and date:--The
battle of Ravenna was fought on Easter Sunday, 1512. There are two
instances of battles between the Houses of York and Lancaster. The
battle of Towton was fought on Palm Sunday. It was there that Warwick
slew his horse, and swore to stand by Edward to his last gasp. The
victory was gained by Edward, March 29th, 1461. Ten years after, the two
parties met again, at Barnet, on Easter Sunday, April 14th, 1471.
Warwick here fought his last fight, and was mortally wounded,
exclaiming--
Lo now my glory is smear'd with dust and blood,--
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but dust and blood?
And live we how we can, yet die we must:
Kings and dragoons, when call'd, must come to dust.
One of the battles between Charles I. and his Parliament was fought on
Sunday, October 23rd, 1642. I cannot pass this over without noticing a
noble act of a loving son. Sir G. Scroope fell fighting for his king,
with twenty-six wounds. Next day his son obtained leave from the king to
find and fetch his poor father's remains. After a long search, the boy
found his father's body in a state of nudity, in the midst of a heap of
others; there was some warmth in it, and, after rubbing it for some
time, he improved it to motion; from motion to sense, and from sense to
speech. He lived for ten years afterwards, a monument to his son's
filial affection, care, and perseverance.
The battle of Loddon Hill was fought on Sunday, June 1st, 1679. The
battle of Aghrain or Boyne was fought on Sunday, July 12th, 1691. It was
there decided by force of arms that His Holiness the Pope of Rome should
no longer reign supreme over the sons of Albion. Ramillies was fought on
Whit Sunday, May 12th, 1706. There the French were routed from the field
by the Duke of Marlborough. There was an incident in this battle, which
proves that there is nothing lost by politeness. During the heat of the
action, an officer kept bowing and taking off his hat to His Grace the
Duke of Marlborough. He was requested to waive ceremony. While thus
bowing and scraping, a cannon ball passed over him, and _took the head
off one of the Duke's staff_. The officer at once remarked: "Your Grace
perceives that one loses nothing by politeness." It was at this battle
that the greatest General that England had ever produced had a very
narrow escape. Colonel Bingfield's head was carried off by a cannon
ball, while holding the stirrup for the Duke to re-mount. He (the Duke)
turned to those about him, and said, jocosely, "Gentlemen, that's close
shaving, but we'll see if we cannot pay them for it before night." The
battle of Almawza was fought on Easter Sunday, April 25th, 1707, at
which an incident occurred not generally known. The English army was
commanded by a Frenchman, and the French army by an Englishman; but the
Frenchmen beat the English. The battle of Bal, or Lafield, was fought on
Sunday, July 2nd, 1747. It was here that Wolfe, the general who
afterwards won Quebec for the British Crown, let them see what a
military genius he was. This is the man whom some of the red-tape
gentlemen wanted to make George II. believe was mad! "Mad, is he?"
exclaimed the King, "I wish, then, that he would bite some of my other
generals." The Peninsula War was fruitful of Sunday fighting. The battle
of Vimiera was fought on Sunday, August 21st, 1808. Fuentes de Oñoro was
decided on Sunday, May 5th, 1811. Ciudad Rodrigo was stormed on Sunday,
January 19th, 1812, with frightful slaughter. Orthes was fought on
Sunday, February 27th, 1814, when the French were fairly driven from the
field, 10,000 prisoners being captured. It was here that Marshal Soult
made sure that he had Wellington for once; and in exultation smote his
thigh, exclaiming--"At last I have him." But he counted his chickens
before they were hatched, for the then Light Division snatched his
expected victory from his hands. Toulouse, the last battle in this war,
was fought on Easter Sunday, April 10th, 1814. The Netherlands campaign
was decided at Waterloo; which battle was fought on Sunday, June 18th,
1815. The Burmese war has two examples of Sunday fighting. Rangoon was
taken on Easter Sunday, April 11th, 1852; and Pague on Sunday, November
21st, 1852. Then, in the Crimea, Inkermann, the soldiers' battle, was
fought on Sunday, November 5th, 1854. There we kept up "Gunpowder Plot"
with a vengeance. Sebastopol fell into the hands of the Allies, after an
unparalleled siege of nearly twelve months, on Sunday, September 9th,
1855. The Indian Mutiny fairly broke out at Meerut on Sunday, May 10th,
1857; and it was followed by the most atrocious deeds that ever
disgraced the earth. The first battle resulting in the relief of
Cawnpore by Sir H. Havelock, took place on Sunday, July 12th, 1857.
This, I would remark, is the most astonishing battle on record. The
enemy were routed from the field, their whole army driven from a strong
position, eleven guns captured, and the whole force scattered to the
winds, _without the loss of a single British soldier_. To what is this
astonishing effect to be attributed? _Our Christian hero, Havelock,
attributed it to the blessing of Almighty God in a righteous
cause_--the cause of _justice_, _humanity_, and _truth_. At all events
the enemy found out at Futtehpore, that even in the heat of a July sun,
British soldiers could and would fight with valour and effect.
* * * * *
In the early part of the present century, when Napoleon had collected an
army of veterans on the coast of France (opposite Dover), for the
purpose of invading and carrying death and destruction into this our
highly-favoured isle, our forefathers looked on with calm indifference,
putting their trust in God. All--from the highest in the land to the
humblest cottager, were prepared to meet the then mighty legions of
France; and, although our united population did not exceed 18,500,000,
we had 1,056,000 men in arms, ready to give Buonaparte and his followers
a warm reception; but he was a long-headed man, and, for all his
boasting, thought better of it. Out of this host of 1,056,000 soldiers,
over 950,000 of them were British-born subjects, the remainder being
made up by the King's German legions. In addition to that army, we had a
fleet of upwards of 900 sail-of-the-line, fully manned and equipped; and
all this vast armament was exclusive of our armies in India. At the
present date the population of Great Britain numbers 35,246,562, backed
up by upwards of 25,000 at Gibraltar, 150,000 at Malta, 2,337,085 at the
Cape of Good Hope; the Dominion of Canada, 4,506,800; Newfoundland,
nearly 200,000; West India Islands, 1,260,000; the Falkland Islands,
nearly 254,000; Australia and its dependencies, nearly 3,000,000; and
last, but not least, India, with its 240,933,000 of people, hundreds of
thousands of whom would rather be cut to pieces than forsake our
glorious Standard; for they have proved us well since the Mutiny. That
country is no longer held by a company of merchants, who try to squeeze
all they can out of the natives; but the people are ruled by laws as
equal as those under which we are privileged to live at home, and the
same gracious Sovereign is looked up to by its teeming millions. Then
there are our settlements in China; Ceylon with its happy and contended
population of 4,386,000 souls; besides numerous other colonies,
stations, and possessions scattered over the face of the globe. All
these hosts are British subjects, and Her Most Gracious Majesty--God
bless her--sways the sceptre of love over all. Now, where there is unity
there is strength. God is evidently blessing this little isle, and
whilst she remains faithful, He will help her. In round figures the
population of the British Empire numbers nearly 300,000,000: and,
although we do not keep up an army one quarter as vast as the armies on
the Continent, I think I may well say that any of the other Powers would
think twice--nay, thrice--before they venture to attack us. _Let us be
true to ourselves, loyal to our beloved Sovereign, and faithful to the
God that hath protected His people in all ages._ For, reader, mark it
well, we enjoy blessings in this island, under our glorious
constitution, that other nations of the earth know nothing of.
* * * * *
I have spoken in plain language, or I have tried to do so, and truth
will go the furthest. It is an old saying, that in a long war, like that
we had with the French at the end of the last and the commencement of
the present century, ending with Waterloo, good men will shoulder
themselves to the front, in spite of all obstacles, "and now-a-days none
dare fight the time," while the last few months have proved that there
are as good fish in the sea as ever were caught. Old England will not go
down the hill of fame while she can produce such true-hearted sons as
Wolseley, Roberts, Wood, Seymour, Graham, and he who has stepped forward
to lead the sons of Albion, H.R.H. the Duke of Connaught. Nelson's last
signal will always be present to the minds of his countrymen. In the
hour of need Britons will, as I have before observed, do their duty.
Some alarmists would have us believe that England is going down the
hill, and becoming an object of derision and contempt to our Continental
neighbours; but no--
Her flag has braved a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze.
Her sailors and soldiers are ready, aye ready,
And will fight for old England, again and again.
* * * * *
I must get on with my story. The time was now fast approaching for us to
depart, and towards the latter end of August we began to get ready for a
move. On the 7th of September, 1854, we sailed under sealed orders, and
left Turkey behind us.
We were now off, and it was a grand sight. Each steamer towed two
transports; a part of the fleet was in front, a part on either side, and
part behind us. We had some eight hundred ships of various sizes, and it
seemed as if no power on earth were capable of stopping us. The Russian
fleet might well keep out of our way. This voyage was truly a source of
delight to the proud and warlike feelings of a Briton. As each ship with
her consort steamed majestically out of the harbour of Varna, the hills
on either side echoed for the first time with the loyal strains of
England and France. The bands in a number of ships played "Rule
Britannia," "God Save the Queen," and the French and Turkish National
Anthems. We dashed past the huge forts on either side of us, with the
Turkish, English, and French flags floating proudly to the wind, and the
guns at each fort saluting us. I had a good look at them with a capital
glass; they appeared of an enormous size, and the guns large enough to
creep into. I have heard that no fewer than six midshipmen crawled into
one of them to get out of the wet; but I will not vouch for the truth of
the story. The guns are about thirty inches in diameter, and some of
them unscrew in the centre; they are shotted with a granite ball, which
is raised by a crane and weighs about 800 lbs.; while the charge
consists of about 110 lbs., of powder. Sir John Duckworth had some of
his squadron sunk or destroyed by these nice "little pills," when he
forced the Dardanelles, in 1807, and was compelled to beat a retreat. We
were only too glad to get away from Turkey; their towns look very well
at a distance, but none of them will stand a close inspection, for they
are filthy beyond description. We steamed up the Black Sea, bidding
defiance to the Russian Fleet. It was the first time that a British
Fleet had ever entered these waters. We spent a few days very
pleasantly--our bands every evening playing a selection of lively airs;
but at length we cast anchor and got ready for landing. Two days'
rations were served out to each man, the meat being cooked on board.
* * * * *
The composition of the Russian Fleet, which fled at our approach, and
took shelter under the guns of Sebastopol, was as follows:--
7 120-gun Ships
13 84 〃 〃
3 60 〃 Frigates
1 54 〃 〃
1 52 〃 〃
2 44 〃 〃
2 20 〃 Corvettes
4 18 〃 〃
4 18 〃 Brigs
4 16-gun 〃
4 12 〃 〃
6 16 〃 Schooners
2 8 〃 〃
4 12 〃 Cutters
3 10 〃 〃
28 With one or two Guns
30 Transport Vessels.
Nearly all these ships were built in British waters, and all on the
capture of Sebastopol were sent to the bottom, either by our guns or by
the Russians to prevent them falling into our hands. A few that took
shelter at Nicolaieff only escaped.
* * * * *
We were now approaching the enemy's shore for soldiering in reality, and
about to find out whether the sons of Albion had degenerated since the
days of their forefathers, who had carried our proud flag into all parts
of the world, and had proved victorious both by sea and land. The honour
of old England was, we realised, now in our hands. One good look at the
older men was quite enough, they meant to do or die; while our
commander, Lord Raglan, inspired us with confidence that he would lead
us on to victory.
* * * * *
The reader may now prepare himself for some rough, hard soldiering and
fighting.
* * * * *
A TRUE BRITON WHEN THE HONOUR OF THE NATION
IS AT STAKE.
"Tis much he dare:
And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,
He hath a wisdom that doth guide his brain
To act in safety."--_Shakespeare._
CHAPTER II.
Disembarkation in the Crimea--First night in the Enemy's
Country, a night long to be remembered, no shelter--March to
the Alma--The Battle--The Fusiliers leading the Van--Letter
from the Heights to my Parents--A fair description of that
Terrible Fight--March from the Alma--Balaclava easily
taken--We take up our position in front of Sebastopol--First
Bombardment--The Battle of Balaclava--Charge of the Light
and Heavy Brigades--Poem by Tennyson--Little
Inkermann--Letter home, 27th October, 1854--Trench Work--The
Battle of Inkermann, the soldiers' fight--Am
Wounded--Description of that Fight--Aspect of the Field
after the Fight--My Letter Home--Sent on to Malta--Letter
from Her Majesty--Notes on a Norfolk Hero at Inkermann, Sir
T. Troubridge--Who first landed in the Crimea?
On the 14th September, 1854, we landed at Old Fort. At a signal from the
Admiral-in-chief we all got ready, and the first consignment of the
Light Division were soon off at rapid pace. It was a toss-up between us
and a boat-load of the 2nd Batt. Rifle Brigade, as to who should have
the honour of landing first on the enemy's shore; but with all due
respect I say the Fusiliers had it, though there was not much to boast
of, as it was afterwards said the Rifles were a very good second (_see
note at the end of chapter_). We were not opposed in landing; a few
Cossacks were looking on at a respectful distance, but made no attempt
to molest us. It would have been madness on their part to have done so,
considering the enormous force we could have brought to bear upon them.
A company of ours, and one or two of the Rifles, were at once sent
forward to be on the look-out; Sir G. Brown went with them and nearly
got "nabbed;" they could have shot him, but wanted to take him alive,
believing that he was "a big bug;" some of our people, however, noticed
their little game, crept close up to the General, and when the Cossacks
thought of making a dash, set to work and emptied some of their saddles,
while the remainder scampered off as fast as their horses' legs could
carry them. Sir G. Brown had thus a narrow escape--as narrow as any he
had previously experienced in the Peninsula and elsewhere. The greater
portion of our army quietly landed--the French disembarking some little
distance from us. These had their little tents with them, and so had the
small detachment of Turks who were with us, but there was not a single
tent for the English Army--so much for management. Thousands of
Britain's sons, who had come to fight for Queen and Country, were thrown
ashore, as it were, without shelter of any kind.
A portion of the infantry with a few guns were first landed; but I must
say that our condition as an army in an enemy's country was pitiable in
the extreme. We had no tents, our officers had no horses, except a few
ponies; Sir George Brown's sleeping compartment and dining-room were
under a gun-carriage: even as bad off as we were our position was to be
envied, for, although we were drenched to the skin, we were on _terra
firma_. The poor marines and sailors in the men-of-war boats, were
towing large rafts, with horses, guns, and detachments of artillerymen,
amid a heavy swell from the sea, that was now running high--it was as
dark as pitch, the horses almost mad with excitement, kicking and
plunging. A number of poor fellows found a watery grave, rafts being
upset in the heavy surf whilst attempting to land--the sea dashing with
all its majestic force upon the sandy beach, although we could not see
it. We made fires the best way we could, with broken boats and rafts; It
was a fearful night! When morning broke, we presented a woeful
appearance; but we soon collected ourselves and assembled on the common.
Next day we managed to get hold of a few country carts, or waggons, full
of forage, that were being drawn by oxen and camels. We were all anxious
to get at the enemy, and longed to try our strength against any number
of boasting Russians. Our united army stood as follows:--English, or
rather Britons, four divisions of infantry, each division then
consisting of two brigades, each brigade of three regiments; to each
division of infantry was attached a division of artillery, consisting of
two field-batteries, four nine-pounder guns and two twenty-four pounder
howitzers; we had a small brigade of light cavalry with us, attached to
which was a six-pounder troop of horse-artillery; in all we mustered
26,000 men and 54 field guns. Our gallant allies, the French, had about
24,000 men and 70 field guns. The Turks had about 4,500 men, no guns or
cavalry, but they managed to bring tents with them. Thus the grand total
now landed, and ready for an advance to meet the foe at all hazards, was
54,000 men, with 124 field guns. And the subsequent pages will tell how
that force often met and conquered, amidst the storms of autumn, the
snows of winter, and the heats of summer; nothing but death could thwart
that dauntless host, whose leaders knew no excuses for weakness in the
day of trial. We were all ready to cry shame on the man who would desert
his country in the hour of need--
Hail to thee, Albion, that meet'st the commotion
Of Europe as calm as thy cliffs meet the foam;
With no bond but the law, and no bound but the ocean;
Hail, Temple of Liberty, thou art my home.
Home, home, sweet home.
_Moore._
The first night in the Crimea was a night long to be remembered by those
who were there. It came on to rain in torrents, while the wind blew a
perfect hurricane; and all, from the Commanders down to the Drummer
Boys, had to stand and take it as it came. And the rain did fall, only
as it does in the tropics. We looked next morning like a lot of drowned
rats. What our people were thinking about I do not know. Had the enemy
come on in strength nothing could have saved us. We were now in an
enemy's country--that enemy most powerful and subtle; it was known that
they were in force not far from us, though their strength was
unknown--yet we were absolutely unprovided with camp equipment or
stores.
They say fortune favours the brave, and, happily, the Russians let the
opportunity slip. Next day we were as busy as bees landing all sorts of
warlike implements--artillery, horses, shot, shell, and all that goes to
equip an army, except shelter. The "unseen enemy" was still with us,
daily finding its victims. Our men worked like bricks, were determined
to make the best of a bad job. We dried our clothing on the beach, and
the next night strong lines of picquets were thrown out to prevent
surprise, while we lay down, wrapped in our cloaks. On the 16th, we
still kept getting all sorts of things on shore in readiness to meet the
enemy; but our people seemed to forget that we were made of flesh and
blood. The French were well provided with tents and other comforts; we
still had none. On the 17th there was the same work getting ready for a
start; but the morning of the 18th saw us on our legs advancing up the
country. We then suffered from the want of water; what we did get was
quite brackish. On the morning of the 19th we marched fairly off with
the French on our right. We continued to suffer very heavily; a number
of men fell out for the want of a few drops of water, but it could not
be got, and we continued to march all day without sighting the enemy,
except only a few Cossacks, who kept a respectful distance from us. The
Light Division was in front, and we found out afterwards that was to be
our place whenever there were any hard knocks to be served out.
It began to get a little exciting in the afternoon. In front of us was a
handful of cavalry--a part of the 11th Hussars; and presently a battery
of Horse Artillery dashed off at a break-neck pace and began pounding
away at something we could not see. We saw that day the first wounded
man on our side--a corporal of the 11th Hussars; his leg was nearly off.
We soon got accustomed to such sights, passed on, and took no notice. As
we topped the rising ground we could see the enemy retiring; our Cavalry
were still in front, feeling the way--as they advanced the Cossacks kept
slowly retiring. We still advanced until it began to get dark, when
strong picquets were thrown out--we collected what we could to make our
bivouac fires, for we still had no tents. Some of our poor fellows died
that night sitting round the scanty fires, or wrapped in their cloaks. I
shall ever remember that night as long as I live. We sat talking for
some little time of our homes and friends far away. My comrade had just
had about an hour's sleep; when on waking he told me he had a
presentiment that he should fall in the first action. I tried to cheer
him up and drive such nonsense out of his head. I thought he was not
well, and he replied that he was very ill, but should be out of all pain
before to-morrow's sun set; however, he was determined to do his duty,
let the consequence be what it might, adding, "May the dear Lord give me
strength to do my duty for my Queen and Country, for I could not, my
boy," grasping my hand, "bear the thought of being branded as a coward."
Still retaining a firm manly grip he continued, "for God has washed all
my sins away in Jesus' blood. Come," he continued, "let's walk about a
little; I am getting cold." Afterwards, getting hold of my arm, he
stopped, looked me full in the face, and twice repeated the solemn
words, "Eternity, Eternity, know and seek the Lord while he may be
found, call upon Him while He is near, for you cannot tell what
to-morrow will bring forth, and it may be too late then." Then he
repeated parts of hymns, which I had often heard sung when a boy. I can
safely say he was one who was ready for anything--life or death. As he
had said, "his life was hid with Christ in God." We pledged that we
would do all that we could for each other in life or in death; I little
thought that his end was so near.
Such were some of the men who carried the standard that has braved the
battle and the breeze for a thousand years up the heights of Alma, and I
can say truly, that it is not the drunkard or the blackguard who makes a
thorough soldier, either in the field or out of it. As I proceed with my
narrative, I will give other examples--for instance, Sir H. Havelock,
Colonel Blackader, Major Malan, Lord Raglan, and also poor Captain
Hedley Vicars, of the 97th, one of the bravest of men, who loved the
Lord with all his heart and soul, and was not at all backward in telling
poor sinners what that Lord had done for him. As he would often say,
"Religion is a personal matter; have mercy upon me, oh God, for I am
vile."
[Illustration: VIEW OF THE HEIGHTS OF ALMA.]
THE BATTLE OF THE ALMA.
Well, to my story; the morning of the 20th found us once more on our
legs. Marshal St. Arnaud rode along our line; we cheered him most
heartily, and he seemed to appreciate it; in passing the 88th, the
Marshal of France called out in English, "I hope you will fight well
to-day;" the fire-eating old Connaught Rangers at once took up the
challenge, and a voice loudly exclaimed "Shure, your honour, we will,
don't we always fight well?" Away we then went at a steady pace,
until about mid-day--the Light and Second Divisions leading, in columns
of brigades. As we approached the village of Burlark, which was on our
side of the river, or what was called the right bank, the blackguards
set fire to it, but still we pressed on; we by the right, the Second
division by the left. We now advanced into the valley beneath, in line,
sometimes taking ground to the right, then to the left, and presently we
were ordered to lie down to avoid the hurricane of shot and shell that
the enemy was pouring into us. A number of our poor fellows lay down to
rise no more; the enemy had the range to a nicety. Our men's feelings
were now wrought up to such a state that it was not an easy matter to
stop them. Up to the river we rushed, and some,--in fact all I could
see,--got ready for a swim, pulling off their knapsacks and camp
kettles. Our men were falling now very fast; into the river we dashed,
nearly up to our arm pits, with our ammunition and rifles on the top of
our heads to keep them dry, scrambled out the best way we could, and
commenced to ascend the hill. From east to west the enemy's batteries
were served with rapidity, hence we were enveloped in smoke on what may
be called the glacis. We were only about 600 yards from the mouths of
the guns, the thunderbolts of war were, therefore, not far apart, and
death loves a crowd. The havoc among the Fusiliers, both 7th and 23rd,
was awful, still nothing but death could stop that renowned Infantry.
There were 14 guns of heavy calibre just in front of us, and others on
our flanks, in all some 42 guns were raining death and destruction upon
us. A number of our poor fellows on reaching the top of the slippery
bank were shot down and fell back dead, or were drowned in the Alma. The
two Fusilier Regiments seemed to vie with each other in performing deeds
of valor. General Codrington waved his hat, then rode straight at one of
the embrasures, and leaped his grey Arab into the breastwork; others,
breathless, were soon beside him. Up we went, step by step, but with a
horrid carnage. When one gets into such a "hot corner" as this was, one
has not much time to mind his neighbours. I could see that we were
leading; the French were on our right, and the 23rd Fusiliers on our
left. This was Albuera repeated--the two Fusilier regiments shoulder to
shoulder--only the French were on our right as Allies, whereas in the
former battle they were in front as bitter foes.
The fighting was now of a desperate kind. My comrade said to me "We
shall have to shift those fellows with the bayonet, old boy," pointing
to the Russians. We still kept moving on, and at last General Sir G.
Brown, Brigadier Codrington, and our noble old Colonel, called upon us
for one more grand push, and a cheer and a charge brought us to the top
of the hill. Into the battery we jumped, spiked the guns, and bayoneted
or shot down the gunners; but, alas, we were not strong enough, and we
were in our turn hurled, by an overwhelming force, out of the battery,
and down the hill again. The old 7th halted, fronted, and lay down, and
kept up a withering fire upon the enemy at point-blank range, which must
have told heavily upon their crowded ranks. Help was now close at hand.
Up came the Guards and Highlanders. His Royal Highness the Duke of
Cambridge was with them, and he nobly faced the foe. He had a good tutor
in that hero of a hundred fights, Sir Colin Campbell. They got a warm
reception, but still pressed on up that fatal hill. Some will tell you
that the Guards retired, or wanted to retire; but no, up they went
manfully, step by step, both Guards and Highlanders, and a number of
other regiments of the 2nd Division, and with deafening shouts the
heights of Alma were ours. The enemy were sent reeling from them in hot
haste, with Artillery and a few Cavalry in pursuit. If we had only had
three or four thousand Cavalry with us, they would not have got off
quite so cheaply; as it was, they got a nasty mauling, such an one as
they did not seem to appreciate.
After gaining the heights--a victory that set the church bells of Old
England ringing and gave schoolboys a holiday, we had time to count our
loss. Alas, we had paid the penalty for leading the way. We had left
more than half our number upon the field, dead or wounded, and one of
our colours was gone, but, thank God, the enemy had not got it; it was
found upon the field, cut into pieces, and with a heap of dead and
wounded all around it. Kinglake, the author of "The Crimean Campaign,"
says in the boldest language that "Yea and his Fusiliers won the Alma."
As one of them, I can confirm that statement--we had to fight against
tremendous odds. The brunt of the fighting fell upon the first Brigade
of the Light Division, as their loss will testify. At one time the 7th
Fusiliers confronted a whole Russian Brigade and kept them at bay until
assistance came up. Our poor old Colonel exclaimed, at the top of the
hill, when he sounded the assembly, "A colour gone, and where's my poor
old Fusiliers, my God, my God!" and he cried like a child, wringing his
hands. After the enemy had been fairly routed, I obtained leave to go
down the hill. I had lost my comrade and I was determined to find him if
possible. I had no difficulty in tracing the way we had advanced, for
the ground was covered with our poor fellows--in some places sixes and
sevens, at others tens and twelves, and at other places whole ranks were
lying. "For these are deeds which shall not pass away, and names that
must not, shall not wither."
The Russian wounded behaved in a most barbarous manner; they made signs
for a drink, and then shot the man who gave it them. My attention was
drawn to one nasty case. A young officer of the 95th gave a wounded
Russian a little brandy out of his flask, and was turning to walk away,
when the fellow shot him mortally; I would have settled with him for
his brutish conduct, but one of our men, who happened to be close to
him, at once gave him his bayonet, and despatched him. I went up to the
young officer, and finding he was still alive, placed him in as
comfortable a position as I could, and then left him, to look for my
comrade. I found him close to the river, dead; he had been shot in the
mouth and left breast, and death must have been instantaneous. He was
now in the presence of his glorified Captain. He was as brave as a lion,
but a faithful disciple. He could not have gone 100 yards from the spot
where he told me we should "have to shift those fellows with the
bayonet." I sat down beside him, and thought my heart would break as I
recalled some of his sayings, particularly his talk to me at midnight of
the 19th; this was about six p.m., on the 20th. I have every reason to
believe that he was prepared for the change. I buried him, with the
assistance of two or three of our men. We laid him in his grave, with
nothing but an overcoat wrapped around him, and then left him with a
heavy heart.
In passing up the hill I had provided myself with all the water bottles
I could, from the dead, in order to help to revive the wounded as much
as possible. I visited the young officer whom I saw shot by the wounded
Russian, and found he was out of all pain: he had passed into the
presence of a just and holy God. The sights all the way were sickening.
The sailors were taking off the wounded as fast as possible, but many
lay there all night, just as they had fallen. Dear reader, such is war.
I rejoined my regiment on the top of the hill, and was made Sergeant
that night. We remained on the hill until the 23rd, and lost a number of
men from cholera.
The 21st and 22nd were spent in collecting the wounded--both friend and
foe. Ours were at once put on board ship and sent to Scutari; some
hundreds of the enemy were collected in a vineyard on the slopes, the
dead were buried in large pits--and a very mournful and ghastly sight it
was, for many had been literally cut to pieces. It was a difficult
matter really to find out what had killed some of them. Here men were
found in positions as if in the act of firing; there, as if they had
fallen asleep; and all over the field the dead were lying in every
position it was possible for men to assume. Some of those who had met
death at the point of the bayonet, presented a picture painful to look
upon; others were actually smiling. Such was the field of the Alma.
The first battle was now over, and as I wrote to my parents from the
heights, I thanked God I was still in the land of the living, and what's
more with a whole skin (except an abrasion on the head caused by a
stone), which a few hours before had appeared impossible. The three
regiments that led the way suffered fearfully, the 7th Royal Fusiliers
on the right, the 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers in the centre, and the 33rd
on the left. Any one of these three Regiments suffered more than the
whole brigade of Guards or Highlanders combined; not that I wish to
speak disparagingly of the gallant Guards or the noble Highlanders, I
only wish to show on whom the brunt of the fighting fell.
I saw the Heights of Alma on the 20th September,
Then the maiden British army first faced the foe,
Then the Russian bear, with all his ugly cubs,
Was taught to use his heels, as fast as he could go.
Volumes could be written upon the Alma--the battle that opened the guns
of France and England in unison, but I must confine my narrative to what
actually passed under my own eyes, or in my own regiment. Canrobert, a
French Marshal, might well in the excitement exclaim, "I should like to
command an English Division for a campaign, and it would be the
d----take the hindmost; I feel that I could then attain my highest
ambition!" A Russian wounded General, in giving up his sword, as
prisoner of war, stated that they were confident of holding their
position for some days no matter what force the Allies could bring
against them, adding that they came to fight men and not devils. Prince
Menschikoff quitted the field in a hurry, for he left his carriage
behind and all his state papers. He, poor man, had to eat a lot of
humble pie, and we are told that he was furiously mad. He had been over
confident that he could hold us in check for three weeks, and then put
us all into the sea; he just held the heights for three hours after the
attack commenced. Ladies even came out of Sebastopol to witness the
destruction of the Allies; but I fancy their flight must have been most
distressing, while their feelings were not to be envied.
The Russian officers were gentlemen, but their men were perfect fiends.
The night after the battle and the following morning, this was proved in
a number of cases, by their shooting down our men just after they had
done all they could for them. Our comrades at once paid them for it
either by shooting or bayoneting them on the spot; this was rough
justice, but it was justice, nevertheless; none of them lived to boast
of what they had done.
Poor Captain Monk of ours was the talk of the whole regiment that
evening. It appears that a Russian presented his rifle at him, close to
his head. The Captain at once parried it and cut the man down. A Russian
officer then tackled him in single combat, and he quietly knocked him
down with his _fist_, with others right and left of him, until he had a
heap all round him, and at last fell dead in the midst of them. Sir G.
Brown's horse was shot from under him just in front of us, but that
fire-eating old warrior soon collected himself, jumped up waving his
sword and shouting, "Fusiliers, I am all right, follow me, and I'll
remember you for it!" and then, as Marshal Ney did at Waterloo, led the
way up that fatal hill on foot, animating the men to the performance of
deeds of valour. Britons, where is the man who would not respond to
such a call? The eyes of the civilized world were upon us. Up the hill
we went, for our blood was up, and the strength of all the Russians
could not stop us; they might call us red devils if they liked, we were
determined to do our duty for Queen and country. We remained on the
heights until the 23rd. The 57th joined us there, just too late for the
battle; but the old "die-hards" left their marks upon the enemy at
Inkermann and throughout the siege of Sebastopol.
The following letter, written immediately after the battle, will,
perhaps, prove interesting here:--
Heights of Alma,
September 20-21, 1854.
My Dear Parents,
I wrote you from Turkey that I would most likely tell you a
little about the enemy before long. Well, we have met them
and given them a good sound drubbing at the above-named
place; and thank God, I am still in the land of the living,
and, what's more, with a whole skin, which a few hours ago
appeared impossible. To describe my feelings in going into
action, I could not; and I hope you will excuse my feeble
attempt at describing the terrible fight we have just passed
through. As soon as the enemy's round shot came hopping
along, we simply did the polite--opened out and allowed them
to pass on--there is nothing lost by politeness, even on a
battle field. As we kept advancing, we had to move our pins
to get out of their way; and presently they began to pitch
their shot and shell right amongst us, and our men began to
fall. I know that I felt horribly sick--a cold shivering
running through my veins--and I must acknowledge that I felt
very uncomfortable; but I am happy to say that feeling
passed off as soon as I began to get warm to it. It was very
exciting work, and the sights were sickening; I hope I shall
never witness such another scene. We were now fairly under
the enemy's fire--our poor fellows began to fall fast all
around me. We had deployed into line, and lay down, in order
to avoid the hurricane of shot and shell that was being
poured into us. We still kept advancing and then lying down
again; then we made a rush up to the river, and in we went.
I was nearly up to my arm-pits; a number of our poor fellows
were drowned, or shot down with grape and canister (that
came amongst us like hail) while attempting to cross. How I
got out I cannot say, as the banks were very steep and
slippery. We were now enveloped in smoke, and could not see
much. Up the hill we went, step by step, but with a fearful
carnage. The fighting now became very exciting, our
Artillery playing over our heads, and we firing and
advancing all the time. The smoke was now so great that we
could hardly see what we were doing, and our poor fellows
were falling all around. It was a dirty, rugged hill. We got
mixed up with the 95th. Some one called out, "Come on young
95th, the old 7th are in front." The fighting was now
desperate.[1] General Sir George Brown, Brigadier
Codrington, our noble Colonel Yea, and, in fact, all our
mounted officers, were encouraging us to move on; and, at
last, with a ringing cheer we topped the heights, and into
the enemy's battery we jumped. Here we lost a great number
of our men; and, by overwhelming numbers, we, the 23rd,
33rd, 95th, and Rifles, were mobbed out of the battery, and
a part of the way down the hill again; and then we had some
more desperate fighting. We lay down and blazed into their
huge columns as hard as we could load and fire; and in about
twenty minutes, up came the Guards and Highlanders and a
number of other regiments; and, with another ringing cheer
for Old England, at them we went again and re-topped the
heights, routing them from their batteries. Here I got a
crack on the head with a piece of stone, which unmanned me
for a time. When I came round I found the enemy had all
bolted.
Do not let anyone see this, as they would only laugh at my
poor description of our first battle. The poor old Fusiliers
have suffered very heavily. My poor comrade was killed just
after getting out of the river. He is the one whom I have
often spoken about. I am confident that he is gone to a far
better home than this. Dear parents, what a sight the whole
field presents! I would again thank God with a sincere heart
for protecting me, I hope, for some good purpose. I hope
that you will be able to make out this scrawl, as the only
table I have is a dead Russian. I went down the hill
yesterday evening and found my poor comrade dead. The
wounded Russians behaved worse than the brute beasts of the
field; they shot some of our officers and men just after
they had done all they could for them, but they did not live
long to talk of what they had done, for they were at once
shot or bayoneted. On some parts of the field the killed of
the poor old 7th, 23rd, 33rd, and 95th, lay thick. You will
notice that I could not finish this letter yesterday. I hope
you will excuse the paper (it's the best I have) and
likewise my poor description of our maiden fight. You may
tell them in Norwich, or anywhere else, that your poor boy
led the way up this fatal hill--for it was the 7th
Fusiliers, 23rd Fusiliers, and 33rd Duke of Wellington's,
95th, and Rifles, that led the van. The Guards and
Highlanders, and the entire 2nd Division, backed us up well.
We have still that horrible disease--Cholera--amongst us.
One of my company died with it last night, after storming
the heights. Please send a paper. Direct, Sergeant T.
Gowing, Royal Fusiliers.
Good bye, dear parents, and God bless you all.
From your rough, but affectionate son,
T. GOWING, Royal Fusiliers.
ON THE WAY TO SEBASTOPOL.
The morning of the 23rd saw us early on our feet, and _en route_ for the
fortress known by the worldwide name of Sebastopol. We marched all day,
our men fast dropping out from sickness. Our first halting place was at
Katcha, where we had a splendid view. Our friends the Cossacks kept a
little in front of us. On the 24th away we went again; nothing
particular occurring, except that our Unseen Enemy--cholera--was still
in the midst of us, picking off his victims. The Commander-in-Chief of
the French, the gallant and gay Marshal St. Arnaud, succumbed to it. But
we pressed on; the honour of three nations being at stake.
Nothing worthy of notice transpired until the 28th, when we thought we
were going to have another Alma job. We began to get ready; Artillery
and Cavalry were ordered to the front. The enemy got a slight taste of
the Scots Greys; a few prisoners being captured. The Rifles got a few
pop-shots at them; but it turned out afterwards that it was the
rear-guard of the enemy. A number of things were picked up by our
people, but the affair ended in smoke; they evidently did not mean to
try to oppose our advance--they had once attempted it, and wanted no
more of it; so the following day we marched on without interruption to
the nice little village of Balaclava. We had little or no trouble in
taking it; the Russians, however, made a slight show of resistance, for
the sake of honour. The Rifles advanced, we supporting them. A few shots
were fired; but as soon as one or two of our ships entered the harbour,
and gave the old castle a few shots, they gave in, and our people at
once took possession. The harbour was speedily filled with our shipping.
Our men managed to pick up a few old hens and a pig or two, which came
in very handy for a stew; and we got some splendid grapes and apples.
Next day we moved up to the front of Sebastopol, whither other divisions
had gone on before us. The siege guns were soon brought up, manned by
Marines and Jack Tars, and we quickly found out that we had a nice
little job cut out for us.
THE SIEGE OF SEBASTOPOL AND BATTLE
OF BALACLAVA.
We must acknowledge that the enemy proved themselves worthy defenders of
a fortress; they worked night and day to strengthen the lines of forts,
huge batteries springing into existence like mushrooms, and stung us
more than mosquitoes. It was evident to all that if the Allies wanted
Sebastopol they would find it a hard nut to crack; that it would be a
rough pic-nic for us. Sir George Brown might well say, that the longer
we looked at it the uglier it got. The white tower was knocked all to
pieces very quickly, but huge works were erected all around it, and
called the Malakoff. We found it no child's play dragging heavy siege
guns up from Balaclava, but it was a long pull and a strong pull, up to
our ankles in mud which stuck like glue. Often on arrival in camp we
found but little to eat, hardly sufficient to keep body and soul
together; then off again to help to get the guns and mortars into their
respective batteries, exposed all the time to the enemy's fire, and they
were noways sparing with shot and shell. We would have strong bodies in
front of us, as covering parties and working parties; often the pick and
shovel would have to be thrown down, and the rifle brought to the front.
Sometimes we would dig and guard in turn; we could keep ourselves warm,
digging and making the trenches and batteries, although often up to our
ankles in muddy water. All our approaches had to be done at night, and
the darker the better for us. As for the covering party, it was killing
work laying down for hours in the cold mud, returning to camp at
daylight, wearied completely out with cold--sleepy and hungry; many a
poor fellow suffering with ague or fever, to find nothing but a cold
bleak mud tent, without fire, to rest their weary bones in; and often
not even a piece of mouldy biscuit to eat, nothing served out yet. But
often, as soon as we reached camp, the orderly would call out, "Is
Sergeant G in?" "Yes; what's up?" "You are for fatigue at once." Off to
Balaclava, perhaps to bring up supplies, in the shape of salt beef, salt
pork, biscuits, blankets, shot or shell. Return at night completely done
up; down you go in the mud for a few hours' rest--that is, if there was
not an alarm. And thus it continued, week in and week out, month in and
month out. So much for honour and glory! The enemy were not idle; they
were continually constructing new works, and peppering us from morning
until night. Sometimes they would treat us to a few long-rangers,
sending their shot right through our camp. And we found often that the
besiegers were the attacked party, and not the attacking. Our numbers
began to get very scanty--cholera was daily finding its victims. It
never left us from the time we were in Turkey. It was piteous to see
poor fellows struck down in two or three hours, and carried off to
their last abode. Nearly all of us were suffering more or less from
ague, fever, or colds, but it was no use complaining. The doctors had
little or no medicine to give. Our poor fellows were dropping off fast
with dysentery and diarrhoea; but all that could stand stuck to it
manfully. We had several brushes with the foe, who always came off
second best. The Poles deserted by wholesale from the enemy, some of
them would turn round at once and let drive at the Russians, then give
up their arms to us, shouting "Pole, Pole!" We knew well that the enemy
were almost daily receiving reinforcements, we had, as yet, received
none. We were almost longing to go at the town, take it or die in the
attempt to hoist our glorious old flag on its walls. Then the nights
began to get very cold, and we found the endless trench work very
trying, often having to stand up to our ankles and sometimes knees in
muddy water, with the enemy pounding at us all the time with heavy
ordnance, both direct and vertical, guns often dismounted and platforms
sent flying in all directions. Our sailors generally paid the enemy out
for it. The Russians often fought with desperation but moral strength in
war is to physical as three to one. Our men had handled the enemy very
roughly more than once since the Alma, and they were shy at coming to
close quarters, unless they could take us by surprise. Thus things went
on day after day, until the morning of the 25th October, 1854, when we
awoke to find that the enemy were trying to cut off our communications
at Balaclava, which brought on the battle. I was not engaged, but had
started from camp in charge of twenty-five men on fatigue to Balaclava,
to bring up blankets for the sick and wounded. It was a cold bleak
morning as we left our tents. Our clothing was getting very thin, with
as many patches as Joseph's coat. More than one smart Fusilier's back or
shoulder was indebted to a piece of black blanket, with hay bound round
his legs to cover his rags and keep the biting wind out a little; and
boots were nearly worn out, with none to replace them. There was nothing
about our outward appearance lady-killing; we were looking stern duty in
the face. There was no murmuring, however; all went jogging along,
cracking all kinds of jokes. We could hear the firing at Balaclava, but
thought it was the Turks and Russians playing at long bowls, which
generally ended in smoke. We noticed, too, mounted orderlies and staff
officers riding as if they were going in for the Derby. As we reached
the hills overlooking the plains of Balaclava, we could see our cavalry
formed up, but none of us thought what a sight we were about to witness.
The enemy's cavalry in massive columns were moving up the valley; the
firing was at times heavy. Several volleys of musketry were heard.
[Illustration: CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE AT BALACLAVA]
"The redoubts with shell they are plying; by heaven the Turks are
flying!
Under Cossack lance and sabre, in scores like cowards dying;
Curse the slaves and never mind them, there are English hearts
behind them,
With British bayonets sharp and sure, and so the foe shall find
them.
Two deep, the gallant 93rd are formed to bear the brunt,
And the Russian horse came thundering on their unshaken front:
They're at six hundred paces; wait till you see their faces:
Down go the rifles with a fire that empties scores of places!
But on their line still dashes, when a second volley flashes,
And as lightning clears a cloud, through the Russian squadrons
crashes.
Down, rear and van, go horse and man, the wounded with the slain!
That mounted host shall count the cost ere it charge our Scots
again."
My party was an unarmed party, hence my keeping them out of harm's way.
One column of the enemy's cavalry advanced as far as we could see to
within half-a-mile of our people, who were a handful compared with the
host in front of them. It was soon evident our generals were not going
to stop to count them, but go at them at once. It was a most thrilling
and exciting moment. As our trumpets sounded the advance, the Greys and
Inniskillings moved forward at a sharp pace, and as they began to ascend
the hill they broke into a charge. The pace was terrific, and with a
ringing cheer and continued shouts they dashed right into the centre of
the enemy's column. It was an awful crash as the glittering helmets of
the boys of the Green Isle and the bearskins of the Greys dashed into
the midst of levelled lances with sabres raised. The earth seemed to
shake with a sound like thunder; hundreds of the enemy went down in that
terrible rush. It was heavy men mounted on heavy horses, and it told a
fearful tale. A number of the spectators, as our men dashed into that
column, exclaimed, "They are lost! They are lost!" It was lance against
sword, and at times our men became entirely lost in the midst of a
forest of lances. But they cut their way right through, as if they had
been riding over a lot of donkeys. A shout of joy burst from us and the
French, who were spectators, as our men came out of the column. It was
an uphill fight of three hundred Britons against five thousand
Muscovites. Fresh columns of squadrons closed around this noble band,
with a view of crushing them; but help was now close at hand. With
another terrible crash, and with a shout truly English, in went the
Royal Dragoons on one flank of the column; and with thrilling shouts of
"Faugh-a-Ballagh," the Royal Irish buried themselves in a forest of
lances on the other. Then came thundering on the Green Horse (5th
Dragoon Guards), and rode straight at the centre of the enemy's column.
The Russians must have had a bad time of it. At a distance, it was
impossible to see the many hand-to-hand encounters; the thick overcoats
of the enemy, we knew well, would ward off many a blow. Our men, we
found afterwards, went in with point or with the fifth, sixth, or
seventh cuts about the head; the consequence was, the field was covered
pretty thickly with the enemy, but hundreds of their wounded were
carried away. We found that they were all strongly buckled to their
horses, so that it was only when the horse fell that the rider was
likely to fall. But if ever a body of cavalry were handled roughly,
that column of Muscovites were. They bolted--that is, all that
could--like a flock of sheep with a dog at their tails. Their officers
tried to bring them up, but it was no go; they had had enough, and left
the field to Gen. Scarlett's band of heroes. How ever that gallant
officer escaped was a miracle, for he led some thirty yards right into
the jaws of death, and came off without a scratch. The victorious
brigade triumphantly rejoined their comrades, and were received with a
wild burst of enthusiasm. It would be well if we could now draw the
curtain and claim a glorious victory. The French officers were loud in
their admiration of the daring feat of arms they had just witnessed.
Many of them said it was most glorious. Sir Colin Campbell might well
get a little excited, and express his admiration of the Scots Greys.
This old hero rode up to the front of the Greys with hat in hand, and
exclaimed with pride: "Greys, gallant Greys! I am past sixty-one years;
if I were young again, I should be proud to be in your ranks; you are
worthy of your forefathers." But, reader, they were not alone. It was
the Union Brigade, as at Waterloo, that had just rode through and
through the enemy, and drew the words from Lord Raglan, who had
witnessed both charges: "Well done, Scarlett!" The loss of this noble
brigade was comparatively trifling taking into consideration the heavy
loss they inflicted upon the foe. My readers must know that the Union
Brigade was composed of one English, one Irish, and one Scotch regiment;
so that it was old England, ould Ireland, and Scotland for ever!
THE GALLANT UNION BRIGADE.
"In spurs and out sabres, now bend to your labours, Inniskilling and
gallant Scots Greys,
Full oft, too, in the light you aforetime stood neighbours, but
ne'er in more desperate fray;
The Fourth Royal Irish are hard on your track, with the Fifth
Dragoon Guards by their side,
And the gallant First Royals that never showed back, nor found foe
that their onset defied.
On they dash, boot to boot, bend to bend, and blade to blade;
What care they for the numbers against them arrayed.
In pell-mell on the foe, like a bolt from a bow,
With a cheer loud and clear as a trumpet they go;
Through a line twice their length, and ten deep for their one,
They have passed like a blast; but their work is not done:
Fresh squadrons close round them--'tis one man to three,
Out-flanked and out-numbered, what rescue may be?
Hurrah! the Dragoons and the Royals so true,
They'll finish what work you have left them to do:
Soon they clear all the rear with the swathes of their blades,
And that shout tells the rout of the Russian Brigade!"
THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.
But we now come to where someone had blundered. The light cavalry had
stood and witnessed the heroic deeds of their comrades, the heavies. Had
we had an Uxbridge, a Cotton, or a Le Marchant at the head of our
cavalry, not many of the enemy's heavy column, which had just received
such a mauling from the heavy brigade, would have rejoined their
comrades. The light cavalry would have been let go at the right time and
place, and the enemy would have paid a much heavier price for a peep at
Balaclava. The noble Six Hundred had not to wait much longer. They were
all on the look-out for something. It comes at last. A most dashing
soldier, the late Captain Nolan, rode at full speed from Lord Raglan
with a written order to the commander of our cavalry, the late Lord
Lucan. The order ran thus:--
"Lord Raglan wishes the cavalry to advance to the front, and
try to prevent the enemy carrying away the guns. Troop of
horse artillery may accompany. French cavalry is on your
left. Immediate.
(Signed) "R. AIREY."
Anyone without a military eye will be able to see at a glance that it
was _our guns_ (from which the Turks had run away), our commander wished
the cavalry to re-take from the enemy. It could have been done without
much loss, as Gen. Sir G. Cathcart was close at hand with his division.
The honest facts are these: The intrepid Nolan delivered the order to
Lord Lucan for the cavalry to attack "immediately." Mind this was not
the first order our commander had sent to the commander of our cavalry.
The former order ran thus:
"Cavalry to advance and take advantage of any opportunity to recover the
heights; they will be supported by the infantry, which have been ordered
to advance on two fronts."
What heights? Why, the heights on which our spiked guns are, that the
Turks had bolted from. It must have been very amazing to our commander
that his orders had not been obeyed, although some thirty-five precious
minutes had elapsed. From the high ground he could see that the enemy
were about to take our seven guns away in triumph, hence the order
"immediately." The commander of our cavalry evidently lost his balance
with the gallant Nolan, as we find from authentic works upon the war.
Lord Lucan, who was irritable, to say the least of it, said to Nolan,
"Attack, sir, attack what? What guns, sir?" "Lord Raglan's orders," he
replied, "are that the cavalry should attack immediately." Nolan, a
hot-blooded son of the Green Isle, could not stand to be snapped at any
longer, and he added, "There, my Lord, is your enemy and there are your
guns." The order was misconstrued, and the noble Six Hundred were
launched into the valley of death. Poor Captain Nolan was the first that
fell. But they and he shall live renowned in story.
Thus far I had been an eye-witness of one of the noblest feats of arms
that ever was seen upon a battle-field. It spoke volumes to the rising
generation. Go and do likewise. Never say die. A brave man can die but
once, but a cowardly sneak all his life long. It told the enemy plainly
the metal our cavalry were made of. They said that we were red devils at
the Alma; it must be acknowledged that they got well lathered then, and
now the Union Brigade of heavy horse had shaved them very roughly. As
for the Light Brigade, with sickness, disease, a strong escort for our
commander-in-chief, and mounted orderlies for the different generals, it
hardly mustered the strength of one regiment on an Indian footing. There
was a lot of excitement on the hill-side when we found the Light Brigade
was advancing, first at a steady trot, then they broke into a gallop.
Their noble leader, the Earl of Cardigan, might well say, "Here goes the
last of the Cardigans!" Some one (an officer) said, "What on earth are
they going to do? Surely they are not going to charge the whole Russian
army? It's madness." But, madness or not, they were simply obeying an
order. And this noble band pressed on towards the enemy, sweeping down
the valley at a terrific pace in all the pride of manhood. Every man's
heart on that hill-side beat high. "They are lost! they are lost!" burst
from more than one spectator. The enemy's guns, right, left, and front,
opened upon this devoted band. A heavy musketry fire was likewise
opened; but still they pressed on. The field was soon strewn with the
dead and wounded. It was a terrible sight to have to stand and witness,
without the power of helping them. The excitement was beyond my pen to
express. Big briny tears gushed down more than one man's face that had
resolutely stormed the Alma. To stand and see their countrymen rushing
at a fearful pace right into the jaws of death was a most exciting scene
to stand and witness. The field was now covered with the wreck of men
and horses. They at last reached the smoke. Now and then we could hear
the distant cheer and see their swords gleaming above the smoke, as they
plunged into one of the terrible batteries that had swept their comrades
down. An officer very kindly lent me his field glass for a short time.
The field presented a ghastly sight, with the unnatural enemy hacking at
the wounded; some trying to drag their mangled bodies from the awful
cross-fires, but a few escaped the bloodthirsty Cossack's lance. We
could see the enemy formed up to cut off all retreat; but it was now do
or die. In our fellows went, with a ringing cheer, and cut a road
through them; and now to our horror, the brutish enemy opened their guns
with grape upon friend and foe, thus involving all in one common ruin,
and the guns again opened on their flanks. It was almost miraculous how
any of that noble band escaped. Our gallant allies, the French, had
witnessed the heroic deeds of the Light Brigade, and now the Chasseurs
went at the enemy in a most dashing manner to help to rescue the remains
of such a noble band. The chivalrous conduct of our allies, the French,
on this field will always be remembered with gratitude; they had ten
killed and twenty-eight wounded. The loss sustained by the Light Brigade
will be found in the table of losses. This was the only field on which
our cavalry were engaged during the campaign. At the Alma, a few
squadrons were on the field, but not engaged. At Inkermann a portion of
the cavalry were formed up; they then would have had a chance if the
enemy had broken through the infantry. As far as the siege was
concerned, they only did the looking-on part. Our gallant allies, the
French, admired much the conduct of our cavalry, both heavy and light.
General Bosquet said that the charge of the heavies was sublime; that of
the Light Brigade was splendid; "but it was not war." We have not the
slightest hesitation in asserting that the Light Brigade was sacrificed
by a blunder. It is but little use trying to lay the blame on the
shoulders of poor Captain Nolan; had he lived the cavalry would have
gone at our guns and re-captured them, or had a good try for it. It was
Lord Lucan, and no one else, that ordered the charge. To say the least
of it, it was a misconception of an order. But I am confident that Old
England will long honour the memory of the noble Six Hundred.
THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league, onward,
All in the Valley of Death,
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the Valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not though the soldiers knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply;
Their's not to reason why;
Their's but to do and die:
Into the Valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode, and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell,
Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd;
Plung'd in the battery-smoke,
Right through the line they broke,
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke,
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not--
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well,
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them--
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
Oh, the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made,
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
_Alfred, Lord Tennyson._
My readers will please remember that my party was unarmed, hence my
keeping out of harm's way. Had we been armed, I should most likely have
gone down the hill at the double, and formed up on the left of the thin
red line--the 93rd Highlanders. Shortly after the sanguinary charge of
the Light Brigade I moved forward as fast as I could. On arriving at
Balaclava I found the stores closed up, and the Assistant
Quartermaster-General ordered me to take my party on to the field, to
assist in removing the wounded, as far as it lay in my power. Off I went
at once. I found the cavalry still formed up. The Light Brigade were but
a clump of men! Noble fellows, they were few, but fearless still. I was
not allowed to proceed further for some time, and I had the unspeakable
pleasure of grasping more than one hand of that noble brigade. There was
no mistaking their proud look as they gave me the right hand of
fellowship. A sergeant of the old Cherry Pickers, who knew me well, gave
me a warm shake of the hand, remarking, "Ah! my old Fusilier, I told you
a week ago we would have something to talk about before long." "But," I
replied, "has there not been some mistake?" He said, "It cannot be
helped now; we have tried to do our part. It will all cone out some
day." My men carried a number of the Heavies from the field to the
hospitals; then I got my store of priceless blankets, and off we plodded
through the mud back to camp. We had something to talk about on our way
home. Our gallant allies, the French, were in high glee, they could
hardly control themselves. As soon as they caught sight of us, they
commenced to shout "_Bon Anglais, Bon Anglais!_" and so it continued
until I reached our camp. But exciting and startling events now rapidly
succeeded each other: the victorious cavalry had hardly sheathed their
swords, after their conflict with the enemy, when about ten thousand,
almost maddened with drink and religious enthusiasm, took another peep
at our camp next day, supported by some thirty guns. They were driven
back into the town quicker than they came out. This was afterwards
called Little Inkermann, and was a stiff fight while it lasted.
But it was such desperate deeds as we are recounting that brought out
the material that has built up this vast and glorious old Empire, the
home of the undefeated race of happy men; this "beautiful isle of the
sea," which is, so to speak, the citadel of an empire such as the world
has never before seen. It is five times as large as that under Darius,
four times the size of that which owned the sway of ancient Rome,
sixteen times greater than France, forty times greater than united
Germany, three times larger than the United States. Australia alone is
nearly as large as the States. India has 1,250,000 square miles, Canada
600,000 square miles. Our empire has nearly 9,500,000 sq. miles, with a
population of 310,000,000. And this has been built up by such
indomitable pluck as that displayed at Albuera, Assaye, Balaclava,
Delhi, Ferozeshah, Inkermann, Plassey, Pyrenees, Salamanca, Trafalgar,
Vittoria, Waterloo, and scores of other fields, by the sons of Albion,
side by side the undaunted sons of the Green Isle. I have not the
slightest hesitation in asserting that the English-speaking nation will
be the universal nation. We have for many years past been compelled to
send our children away to make room in this tight little isle. The vast
continent of North America is peopled from the stout old loins of this
God-defended isle. Our language is already spoken in more than half the
civilised world. All we want is unity with the English-speaking race,
and we have nothing to fear.
THE NOBLE SIX HUNDRED.
The wind of dawn is breathing, the mists of night are wreathing
Up from the valley in white swathes, the mountain range is sheathing;
Watch-fires are burning dimly, hill batteries frowning grimly.
Troop horses in the plain below at their pickets tethered trimly.
When in with hot haste riding, our out-pickets bring tidings
That the Russians within the eastern gorge were hiding:
"Boot and saddle" and _reveillé_ in the cool clear air, ring gaily,
And horse and foot are forming, all eager for the melée.
Would to God that gallant charge had closed the bloody day,
Then clear of blame had shown the fame of Balaclava's fray;
But who is there with patient tongue the sorry tale to tell?
How our Light Brigade, true martyrs, to the point of honour fell.
'Twas "sublime," but 'twas not warfare, that charge of woe and wrack,
That led six hundred to the guns and brought two hundred back.
Enough, the order came to charge, and charge they did like men,
Whilst shot and shell and rifle-ball played on them down the glen.
Though thirty guns were ranged in front, not one e'en bated breath,
Unfaltering, unflinching, they rode upon their death;
Nor by five times their numbers of all arms could they be stayed,
And with two lines for one of ours, e'en then the Russians paid.
Till torn with shot and rent with shell, a spent and bleeding few,
Life worn against those fearful odds from the grapple they withdrew;
But still like wounded lions their faces to the foe,
More conquerors than conquered, they fall back stern and slow.
With dinted arms and wearied steeds, all bruised and soiled and torn,
Is this the wreck of all that rode so bravely out that morn?
Where thirty answered muster at dawn now answered ten,
Ah! woe's me for such officers, woe's me for such men.
Whose was the blame? name not his name, but rather seek to hide.
If he live leave him to conscience, to God if he have died.
But for you, brave band of heroes, your country knows you well;
It asks not to what purpose, it knows but how you fell.
MILITARY HEROISM.
To overcome in battle, and subdue
Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite
Manslaughter, shall be held the highest pitch
Of human glory, and for glory done
Of triumph, to be styled great conquerors,
Patrons of mankind, gods, and sons of gods!
Destroyers rightlier call'd, and plagues of men!
_Milton._
Well, reader, the charge of our Light Brigade at Balaclava, backed up by
that of the Heavies, will not die; it will be remembered when the bones
of those who there sustained the honour of our Island lie rotting in the
tomb!
LITTLE INKERMANN.
But I have something else in store. Our turn came next day, 26th
October--Little Inkermann, as our men named it. About mid-day the enemy
came out of the town in very strong columns, and attacked us just to the
right of the Victoria Redoubt; the fighting was of a very severe nature.
The 2nd Division, under Sir De Lacy Evans, received them first; and a
part of the Light Division had a hand in it. The enemy made cock-sure of
beating us and brought trenching tools with them, but were again doomed
to be disappointed. We were hardly prepared for them; but soon collected
ourselves, and closed upon them with the bayonet, when, after some hard
fighting, they were hurled from the field. They paid dearly for a peep
at our camp, leaving close upon 1000 dead and wounded. They retired much
quicker than they came, with our heavy guns sweeping them down by
scores, and cutting lanes through their columns. Our Artillery on this
occasion did great execution, whilst a continuous rain of Minie rifle
balls mowed their ranks like grass, and for the finishing stroke they
got that nasty "piece of cold steel;" our huge Lancaster guns simply
killed the enemy by wholesale. General Bosquet kindly offered
assistance, but the reply of our commander was, "Thank you, General, the
enemy are already defeated, and too happy to leave the field to me."
The attack of the 26th was nothing more nor less than a reconnaissance
in force, preparatory to the memorable battle of Inkermann; but it cost
them heavily, while we also lost a large number of men. On this field
the brutal enemy distinguished themselves by bayoneting all our wounded
that the picquets were compelled to leave behind in falling back for a
short distance. The stand made by the picquets of the 30th, 55th, and
95th on our right was grand, for they retired disputing every stone and
bush that lay in their way. The following morning our commander, under a
flag of truce, reminded the Russian chief that he was at war with
Christian nations, and requested him to take steps to respect the
wounded, in accordance with humanity and the laws of civilized nations.
Nevertheless, the remonstrance did not stop their brutality. A few days
later, on the memorable field of Inkermann, the Russians murdered almost
every wounded man who had the misfortune to fall into their hands.
Whilst the picquets were holding on with desperation, the Royal
Fusiliers and portions of the Royal Welsh, 33rd Duke's Own, and 2nd
battalion Rifle Brigade, went with all speed to the five-gun battery, to
reinforce our picquets there, and a portion of us were directed to the
slopes of the White-house ravine. We had just got into position when we
observed one of the enemy retiring towards Sebastopol with a tunic on
the muzzle of his rifle belonging to one of the Fusiliers, who was on
fatigue in the ravine cutting wood when the attack commenced. Having
nothing to defend himself with, he had to show his heels. One of the
Rifle Brigade at once dashed off shouting that the tunic should not go
into the town. As the Rifleman neared the Russian he turned and brought
his rifle to the present. John Bull immediately did the same. As luck
would have it, neither of them were capped. They closed to box, the
Briton proving the Russian's superior at this game, and knocked him
down, jumping on the top of his antagonist: but the Russian proved the
strongest in this position, and soon had the Rifleman under. We watched
them, but dared not fire. A corporal of the Rifles ran as fast as he
could to assist his comrade, but the Russian drew a short sword and
plunged at our man, and had his hand raised for a second. The corporal
at once dropped on his knee and shot the Russian dead. Our men cheered
them heartily from the heights. They were both made prisoners of by an
officer, and in due course brought before the commander of our forces,
who made all enquiries into the case, and marked his displeasure with
the young officer by presenting £5 to the gallant Rifleman for his
courage in not allowing the red coat to be carried into Sebastopol as a
trophy, and promoted the corporal to sergeant for his presence of mind
in saving the life of his comrade. No end of dare-devil acts like the
above could be quoted, for the enemy always got good interest for
anything which they attempted.
Our numbers were now fast diminishing from sickness and hardship; our
clothing began to get very thin; we had none too much to eat, and plenty
of work, both by night and by day, but there was no murmuring. We had as
yet received no reinforcements; though the enemy had evidently been
strongly reinforced. Day after day passed without anything particular
being done except trench work. Our men went at it with a will--without a
whimper--wet through from morn till night; then lay down in mud with an
empty belly--to get up next morning, perhaps, to go into the trenches
and be peppered at all day; to return to camp like drowned rats, and to
stand to arms half the night.
ACROSTIC ON NAPOLEON.
The following acrostic on Napoleon, told in "Literary
Eccentricities and Curiosities," was composed by a professor
at Dijon, as soon as the entrance of the Allies into that
town had enabled its loyal population to declare in favour
of its legitimate sovereign:--
N ihil fuit;
A ugustus evenit;
P opulos reduxit;
O rbem disturbavit;
L ibertatem oppressit;
E cclesiam distraxit;
O mnia esse voluit;
N ihil erit.
It would be difficult to give a more concise and more
faithful history of Napoleon's whole career. The following
is a translation of the lines--a rough one, it is true; but
it still retains the acrostic characteristic of the
original:--
N aught he was;
A monarch he became;
P eoples he reduced;
O verturned the world;
L iberty he cursed;
E cclesiastics he worried;
O mnipotent he wished to be;
N aught he shall be.
The following letter was written from the
Camp before Sebastopol,
October 27th, 1854.
My Dear Parents,
Long before this reaches you, you will have heard that our
bombardment has proved a total failure; if anything, we got
the worst of it. The French guns were nearly all silenced,
but our Allies stuck to us well. But you will have heard
that we have thrashed the enemy again, on two different
fields. On the 25th inst., they attacked our position at
Balaclava, and the people that we are fighting for (the
Turks,) bolted, and let them take our guns. Our cavalry got
at them--it was a grand sight, in particular the charge of
the Heavy Brigade, for they went at them more like madmen
than anything that I can explain; the Greys and Enniskillens
(one a Scotch and the other an Irish regiment) went at them
first, and they did it manfully. They rode right through
them, as if they'd been a lot of old women, it was a most
exciting scene. I hear that the Light cavalry have been cut
to pieces, particularly the 11th Hussars and the 17th
Lancers. The rumour in camp is that someone has been
blundering, and that the Light Cavalry charge was all a
mistake; the truth will come out some day. The mauling that
our Heavy Cavalry gave the enemy they will not forget for a
day or two. I was not engaged in fighting, but simply going
down to Balaclava on fatigue. You will most likely see a
full account of the fight in the papers, and I feel that you
will be more interested in our fight, which we had yesterday
(the 26th.) What name they are going to give it, I do not
know. It lasted about an hour-and-a-half, but it was very
sharp. The 2nd and Light Divisions had the honour of giving
them a good thrashing, and I do not think they will try
their hands at it again for a little while. We had not much
to do with it; it was the 30th, 41st, 49th, and 95th that
were particularly engaged, and they gave it them properly.
We supported them; the field was covered with their dead and
wounded--our Artillery simply mowed them down by wholesale.
The Guards came up to our assistance, but they were not
engaged more than they were at Balaclava. We charged them
right to the town. I heard some of our officers say they
believed we could have gone into the town with them; but our
noble old commander knew well what he was about. I mean Sir
De Lacy Evans, for he commanded the field. You must excuse
this scrawl, as I must be off; I am for the trenches to
night. It is raining in torrents, so we are not likely to be
short of water; but I am as hungry as a hunter. Don't be
uneasy; thank God I am quite well, and we must make the best
of a bad job. As long as we manage to thrash them every time
we meet them, the people at home must not grumble--while
they can sit by their firesides and smoke their pipes, and
say we've beat them again. We begin to get old hands at this
work now. It is getting very cold, and the sooner we get at
the town and take it, the better. It is immensely strong,
and looks an ugly place to take, but we will manage it some
day. The enemy fight well behind stone walls, but let us get
at them, and I will be bound to say, that we will do the
fighting as well as our forefathers did under Nelson and
Wellington. Bye-the-bye, our sailors who man our heavy guns,
are a tough and jolly set of fellows. I shall not finish
this letter until I come off duty.
October 29th.
Well, I've got back to camp again. We have had a rough
twenty-four hours of it; it rained nearly the whole time.
The enemy kept pitching shell into us nearly all night, and
it took us all our time to dodge their Whistling Dicks
(huge shell), as our men have named them. We were standing
nearly up to our knees in mud and water, like a lot of
drowned rats, nearly all night; the cold bleak wind cutting
through our thin clothing (that is now getting very thin and
full of holes, and nothing to mend it with.) This is ten
times worse than all the fighting. We have not one ounce too
much to eat, and, altogether, there is a dull prospect
before us. But our men keep their spirits up well, although
we are nearly worked to death night and day. We cannot move
without sinking nearly to our ankles in mud. The tents we
have to sleep in are full of holes; and there is nothing but
mud to lie down in, or scrape it away with our hands the
best we can--and soaked to the skin from morning to night
(so much for honour and glory). I suppose we shall have
leather medals for this one day--I mean those who have the
good fortune to escape the shot and shell of the enemy, and
the pestilence that surrounds us. I will write as often as I
can; and if I do not meet you any more in this world, I hope
to meet you in a far brighter one. Dear mother, now that I
am face to face with death, almost every day, I think of
some of my wild boyish tricks, and hope you will forgive me;
and if the Lord protects me through this, I will try and be
a comfort to you in your declining days. Good bye, kind and
best of mothers. I must conclude now. Try and keep up your
spirits--
And believe me ever
Your affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
A MOTHER'S LOVE.
A mother's love--how sweet the name,
What is a mother's love?
A noble, pure, and tender flame
Enkindled from above,
To bless a heart of earthly mould;
The warmest love that can grow cold,--
This is a mother's love.
_James Montgomery._
* * * * *
"The gates of mercy shall be all shut up:
And the fleshed soldier,--rough and hard of heart,--
In liberty of bloody hand, shall range
With conscience wide as hell: mowing like grass
Your fresh fair virgins and your flowering infants."
_Shakespeare._
THE BATTLE OF INKERMANN.
On the morning of the 5th November the enemy attacked us in our trenches
in broad daylight. Our heavy guns gave it them prettily, and mowed down
their dense columns by wholesale; but still they came on, until they
felt the bayonet. Then, after some stiff fighting, which lasted more
than an hour, they were compelled to beat a hasty retreat, our heavy
guns sweeping lanes through them, and we plying them with musketry both
in front and flank. We found they could run well, only too glad to get
under cover. A sortie has no chance of success unless the besieging army
can be taken by surprise; but no doubt this attack was made in order to
distract our commander's attention from the vital point.
The ever-memorable battle was then raging on our right rear, and by the
shouts of the combatants and the tremendous firing, we knew that
something very serious was going on, so as many of us as the General
could spare were ordered to march as fast as our legs could carry us to
the assistance of our comrades, then at the dreadful fight raging at
Inkermann. As we had just drubbed the enemy terribly, our blood was up,
but we were hungry: many of us had had nothing to eat for twenty-four
hours, and were wet through to the skin. They say an Englishman will not
fight unless his belly is full; that's all bosh: let him once be roused,
and you will soon see whether he will or not. Well, to the field we
went, and the sights were something horrible, but there was not a
desponding voice; the fog was so dense that at times we could not see
twenty yards. Our men were falling very fast, for the enemy were in
overwhelming strength, particularly in guns. But it is impossible to
disguise the fact that the crafty Muscovites in the darkness and fog had
stolen a march upon our commanders; that the Allies were taken
completely by surprise; and that only the intrepidity of the picquets
of the Light and Second Divisions saved the entire Allied Armies from an
overwhelming disaster. We can now say without boasting that the heroic
conduct of a mere handful of Britons were, and are to this day, the
admiration of all. The determined rushes of the Muscovites were hurled
back time after time. Their princes boasted that they would drive us all
into the sea. So they would, perhaps, if weight of numbers could have
done it; but that nasty piece of cold steel stood in the way. At this
critical moment the startling intrepidity of the sons of Albion, side by
side with the heroic boys of the green isle, came out in all its native
splendour, to shine by the side with that displayed at Trafalgar,
Albuera, and Waterloo. Their deeds are to-day stimulating their
descendants on the banks of the Nile, and will do till the end of time,
or as long as we have an enemy to face, whether they are to be found on
the burning plains of Egypt or the frontiers of Afghanistan. The queen
of weapons was used with deadly effect, the drunken massive columns of
the enemy were pitched over the rocks by men who might die but never
surrender, and who had a strong objection to a watery grave. Our highest
martial interest, honour, was at stake; but, reader, it was safe withal,
from our much-respected Commander-in-Chief to the drummer-boy. They had
all made up their minds to conquer or to die. Children yet unborn will
exclaim "all honour to that band of heroes." The odds were heavy, but
from the brutes we had to face we had no mercy to expect. Our Fourth
Division--composed of the following regiments, the 20th, 21st, 57th,
63rd, 68th, and 1st Batt. Rifle Brigade, under Cathcart--fought at a
disadvantage, having been armed with the old Brown Bess musket, against
the Needle-Rifle which the enemy were armed with. Our weapons were
almost as much use as a broomstick. Yet with all these disadvantages we
smote the enemy with a terrible slaughter, and there was seen again with
what majesty the British soldier fights. Our loss was heavy: three
generals fell and every mounted officer, but our men fought to the
bitter end, and stood triumphant on the rocky ridge, cheering for
victory--the unconquerable heroism of the handful of men we knew would
set the church-bells of old England ringing and clashing for victory,
and give schoolboys a holiday. All regiments vied with each other, as
the following will prove:--At the Alma and Balaclava we had fought for
victory; but at the fight that was now raging, a mere handful of Britons
were contending for very existence, for to be beaten here meant an
ignominious death at the hands of a lot of fierce brutes, mad with
drink--Dutch courage had to be poured into them to make them face our
ranks. The drunken yells of their massive columns were answered by
volley after volley at point-blank range, and then, with a clear and
distinct cheer for old England, we closed upon them with the bayonet,
and stuck to them like wax until they were hurled from the field. We had
no supports or reserves, but every man, as fast as he could reach the
field, went straight at them, with a shout that seemed to strike terror
into them; and so the fight went on, hour after hour. In many parts of
the field it was a horde of half-drunken madmen attacking cool and
collected Britons, determined to conquer or die. Our Guards were the
admiration of the whole army; their deeds at Inkermann will never fade.
Led by His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge, they repeatedly buried
themselves in the Russian columns, as cheer after cheer went up in
defiance to the enemy's unnatural yell. The Guards, all must admit, set
a glorious example, for if they had to die, they acted upon the old 57th
motto, "Let us die hard." The daring, courage, and obstinacy of our
Guards was grand; the terrible odds that they faced on this field puts
Hougoumont in the shade, and ranks beside the unconquerable heroes of
Albuera, fully justifying their high prestige in the army.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF INKERMANN.
_The memorable foggy morning, 5th November, 1854._]
Some who read this may think that I am an old Guardsman--so I am; I had
the pleasure of guarding the honour of our beloved Isle, in the 7th
Royal Fusiliers. But, I wish to give honour where honour is due. The
7th, however, were not behind when hard fighting had to be done. One of
our Majors--a Norfolk hero--Sir Thomas Troubridge, although he had both
his feet shot away, would not give in, neither would he allow himself to
be carried off the field, but continued fighting to the end. When he was
lying apparently bleeding to death, with both his stumps resting upon a
gun-carriage, he called upon us to "shift those fellows with the
bayonet," animating us by voice and gesture. Although the poor man could
not lead us, he could cheer us on. And on we went with an irresistible
rush, and routed them then and there. On one occasion after he was
wounded, he called upon us not to forget our bayonets, adding, "They
don't like cold steel, men." Neither did I. It was here that I received
two bayonet wounds, one in each thigh, and would most likely have been
despatched, but that help was close at hand, and the fellows who wounded
me fell at once by the same description of weapon, but not to rise again
and write or talk about it. Revolvers and bayonets told heavily that
foggy morn, and when our men were short of ammunition, they pitched
stones at the enemy. My legs were quickly bandaged, and after giving the
enemy a few parting shots at close quarters, which must have told upon
their crowded ranks, I managed to hobble off the field, using my rifle
and another I picked up as crutches. We could spare none to look after
the wounded; it was every man for himself. After hobbling some distance
out of the range of fire, I lay down, for I could get no further without
a little rest. Our allies, the French, were then coming up to our
assistance in a right mood for fighting. The Zouaves passed me with a
ringing cheer of "Bon Anglais" and "Vive l'Empereur," repeated over and
over again. A mounted officer of rank, who was with them, stopped and
asked me a number of questions in good English. He turned and spoke to
his men, and they cheered me in a most lusty manner. The officer kindly
gave me a drink out of his flask, which revived me considerably, and
then, with a hearty shake of the hand, bade me good-bye, and passed on
into action, shouting out something about the enemy walking over his
body before he would surrender. Thus was Waterloo and Trafalgar avenged,
by the descendants of the vanquished advancing with rapid strides and a
light heart, but with a strong arm, to assist the sons of Albion in one
of the most unequal and bloody contests ever waged. Let us hope that the
blood then spilt may have cemented for ever the friendship between the
two nations who are so near neighbours. The French fought in a most
dashing manner, side by side with us, till the enemy were driven from
the field. The Russian officers fought with desperation, though their
men hung back unless almost driven to it. But the reader must remember
our men and the Zouaves plied the queen of weapons with terrible effect,
and all met the enemy with an unconquerable energy, while we often
stimulated each other by asking--what would they say of us in England?
But I could do no more; I had done all I could, and now had to remain
and take my chance of being killed by a stray shot. It was hard work to
lie there for upwards of an hour-and-a-half in suspense. I felt as if I
should like to be at them, for a little satisfaction; but I had to lie
passive.
I am proud to record that no regiment on that memorable field could take
the shine out of the gallant old 7th Fusiliers. I lay on the field
bleeding, when I heard the welcome shout of victory; I was shortly
afterwards attended to, and carried to hospital, there remained for a
day or two, and was then sent on to Malta, to be patched up ready for
another go in at them.
I saw Inkermann's Heights on that memorable foggy morn,
A name now respected by Britons not then born;
The odds were seven to one, there was no desponding cry,
But, remember the Heights of Alma, we conquer or we die.
The enemy's loss was exceedingly heavy; twenty thousand men is the
estimated loss of the Russians, in their endeavours to take the Heights
of Inkermann on that memorable Sunday, 5th November, 1854. The carnage
was something frightful, as our close point-blank fire had told heavily
upon the enemy's columns. Our total strength on the field was about nine
thousand, upwards of one third of whom fell killed or wounded; while of
the six thousand French who came to help us, they lost seventeen
hundred. But the enemy were completely routed, and England confessed
that every man that foggy morn had done his duty. We had been fighting
against heavy odds, and men armed with as good weapons as ourselves,
while they were wrought up to a state of madness or desperation with
drink.
Inkermann will not admit of much description, particularly from one who
was in the thick of it. The fighting all day on that awful Sabbath was
of a furious character. The bayonet was the chief weapon, and the Minie
rifle balls told heavily upon the crowded ranks. To sum it up in a few
words, every man had to, and did fight, as Britons ought to do when the
honour of the nation is at stake. The best of Generals might have lost
such a fight as Inkermann,--none could direct, for the fog was so dense
that one could not see, at times, twenty yards. On came the Russian
columns, but they had to go back time after time much quicker than they
came.
The bayonet was used with terrible effect by all regiments. The enemy,
driven on by their brave officers, had to and did literally climb over
the heaps of their slain countrymen and ours, to renew this
bloodthirsty contest, but they were met by British cold steel, and were
hurled or pitchforked from the field. We might appropriately say of a
number of the brave men who fell on that field in the hour of victory--
That nothing in their life
Became them like the leaving it.
We had proved, in a hundred fights, that no enemy could resist our men.
But at Inkermann, victory hung in the balance, and our weak Battalions
had to resist the enemy's heavy columns bayonet to bayonet. It was Greek
meeting Greek, for a number of most determined encounters were
maintained against very heavy odds; and as often as the Russian Infantry
charged us, our people met them with that never-failing weapon. The 41st
and 49th regiments held the Sandbag Battery, and were fairly mobbed out
of it by the overwhelming numbers of the enemy, who were exulting in
their victory with yells of triumph, when up came the Guards, and in
they went with a cheer and a rush that told heavily upon the foe. The
Russians, except the dead and dying, were literally lifted out of the
battery and its vicinity, by these gallant regiments. Our army may well
be proud of its present Commander-in-Chief, for it was His Royal
Highness himself who led these unconquerable men. Fresh draughts of
"Rackie" had to be issued to the legions of Russia, in order to make
them face us again. All was done that could be devised by the enemy, in
order to fasten victory to their standards. Holy Russia was represented
on the field by the two Imperial Grand Dukes, sons of their sacred
chief, and the soldiers were taught that they must, as true Russians,
die for their holy Czar; the glory of conquering in the presence of his
children, even at the expense of life, would open the gates of heaven to
them. (?) They were repeatedly urged on to the attack, and as often
driven back. The 41st fought like tigers, to gain time for their
comrades to come up. The grey-coated battalions of the enemy were now on
the right, on the left, and in front of us, but there was not a
desponding voice in our ranks. The Duke of Cambridge was requested to
retire a little out of the immediate reach of the murderous musketry
fire. But--"No; I will, when these follows are shifted," was the reply.
It was well that the French came up when they did. Our men were
gradually being crushed in some parts of the field, but showing the
enemy a most determined front. It was at this juncture that His Royal
Highness set so animating an example; and the French coming up to our
assistance, again the hosts of Russia had to retire. About this time a
cry was raised that the ammunition was running short. Sir G. Brown,
exclaimed--"Then there is nothing for it but the bayonet: _at them, my
lads_." And at them we went; and they had to go back, although their
Princes boasted that they would put us all into the sea. It was a great
pity we had not the 42nd, 79th, and 93rd Highlanders with us, for we
knew well they would have left their marks upon the enemy, under the
guidance of their old Commander, Sir Colin Campbell, but they had to
watch Balaclava. We lost a great number of officers, and at the close of
the day the 4th division was commanded by a captain. But on that
memorable field if there was one corner hotter than another, the Guards
had it. At one time they were completely surrounded by the assailing
multitudes, and the dense fog prevented them from seeing anything but
the foes all round. Shoulder to shoulder, with a ringing cheer, they cut
their way out; shouting, "Keep to the colours." It was a bloody contest;
but this little band--now reduced to about 700 unwounded men, showed the
enemy an undaunted front. The 20th was sent to help them. They staggered
under the murderous fire that met them. This battery had now become more
like a slaughter-house than anything else. The Guards went at them
again, and routed the Russians out of it. At the 5-gun battery the
fighting was desperate, but the enemy never got into it to live.
Inkermann may well be called the soldiers' fight, for at times the fog
was so thick that we could not see friend from foe. Our men, however,
managed to find the Russians, and then "shift" them.
Except Trafalgar and Waterloo, no battle fought by the British since the
invention of powder has called forth such exultation. And still the word
"Inkermann" stimulates the warlike enthusiasm of every Briton, and the
rising generations will recall with rapture the name of some distant
relative and exclaim, "He fought and fell at Inkermann," while with
manly pride they feel that they have sprung from fathers whom the nation
at large delights to honour. The Alma and Balaclava awakened the
war-spirit--that indomitable spirit that lies latent in the breast of
every Briton. The news of victory at these places set the church bells
ringing; but the victory by a mere handful of men on the heights of
Inkermann, went through every Briton like an electric shock; and
thousands at once volunteered to defend the flag, side by side with the
heroic sons of France. In our most remote colonies, the people of
British extraction exulted at the tidings of Inkermann. In all our large
cities--London, Manchester, Leeds, Sheffield, Birmingham, Norwich,
Nottingham, &c., in the workshops, in the furnace-rooms, at the forges,
in the meanest tap-rooms, in the most remote village taverns, in the
hills of Scotland, and the bogs of Ireland--all were proud they were
united Britons, and of the same stock that had just hurled the armies of
Russia, although in overwhelming numbers, from the heights of Inkermann.
My young readers must bear in mind that this battle was not fought by
men who were well fed, well clothed, or well housed, nor by an army that
was well prepared; but, on the contrary, by men who were, so to speak,
half starved, clothed in rags, and exposed to all the inclemencies of a
rigorous climate, whilst they were attacked by hordes of men confident
of victory, whose feelings had been wrought to madness by stimulants and
priestcraft. At one time victory trembled in the balance; some of our
guns were in the hands of the enemy, and the gunners had been all shot
or cut down. But the boys of the Emerald Isle were close by. The 88th
Connaught Rangers and the 49th went at them; and re-captured the guns.
The advance of our Guards at the Sandbag, or 2-gun battery, was grand,
and surely it could be said of them, "Nothing could stop that
astonishing Infantry." No sudden burst of undisciplined valour, no
nervous enthusiasm weakened their order; their flashing eyes were bent
upon the dark masses in their front; their measured tread shook the
ground; their ringing cheer startled the infuriated columns of the
enemy, as their bayonets were brought down to the charge; and, led by a
grandson of a king--H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge--in they went, shoulder
to shoulder, and the enemy with all their boasted strength, were driven
down the hill.
The stubborn infantry still made good
Their dark, impenetrable hill;
Each stepping where his comrade stood,
The instant that he fell.
At the Alma and Balaclava, when the enemy had gained a temporary
success, they behaved in a most barbarous manner to our wounded;
sometimes their officers set them the example by plunging their swords
into the helpless. At Inkermann, they outstripped all their former deeds
of assassination. Mercy they did not seem to understand when once our
poor fellows were in their clutches. But yet our men, I am happy to
record, would not retaliate, except in so far as that, after the battle
was over, their wounded were left to lie, while ours were removed from
the field; but those who were alive next morning were then attended to,
and taken to our hospital tents. Such are the horrors of war. Our loss
had been heavy: there were killed 4 Generals, 50 Officers, 42 Sergeants;
total killed, wounded, and missing, 2700, exclusive of the French loss,
and that was heavy for the numbers engaged. The whole French army were
loud in their expressions of admiration of the British, their exultation
seemed to be beyond all bounds, for our deeds had put Alma and Balaclava
in the shade, and cast a fresh lustre upon our glorious old Standard.
They looked at us in wonderment, for they knew well the odds we had
fought against, hour after hour. And, I have not the slightest doubt,
some of their old officers thought of our forefathers who had so often
fought them, and never once met them but to give them a good sound
thrashing. As Napoleon said, we had often been beaten, but would not
give in; we would stick to them like a good bull-dog, and worry them
out. Reader, such was Inkermann.
Night closed around that conquering band,
The lightning showed the distant field,
Where they who won that bloody day,
Though few and faint, were fearless still.
The aspect of the field was awful--dead and dying mutilated bodies in
all directions. Many of our men had been wounded frequently with shot
and bayonet; others were cut limb from limb, and yet a spark of life
remained. Many had perished by the bayonet and it was noticed that but
few had fallen with one thrust. In and around the 2-gun battery the
sights were sickening. Our Guardsmen, and 41st, 47th, and 49th, lay
locked in the arms of the foe with their bayonets through each
other--dead. Some of our officers and men were found dead, with no fewer
than twelve or fifteen bayonet wounds; the appearance of the poor
fellows who had been thus tortured was painful. To describe the scene
would be impossible--the result of eight hours' hand-to-hand
conflict--it was horrible to look upon. Scarcely did any field in the
whole Peninsula war present, as the result of conflict, such a murderous
spectacle as the terrible sights that now lay before us. There were
literally piles of dead, lying in every posture that one could imagine;
I may say that there were acres of defaced humanity--ghastly wounds from
sword, bayonet, grape, and round shot; poor fellows literally
shattered--and yet with life still in them. Others lay as if they had
been asleep--friend and foe mixed together. In some parts of the field
our men lay in ranks as they had stood; and the enemy in columns, one on
the top of the other. The Russian Guardsmen lay thick all over the
field. Upwards of 2000 dead were found belonging to the enemy. Just
outside the 2-gun Battery the wounded were numerous, and their groans
were pitiful; while cries of despair burst from the lips of some as they
lay, thinking perhaps of wives and helpless little ones far away. The
Russian dead were buried in large pits by themselves; and our people and
our gallant allies, the French, were laid side by side. For hours during
that dreadful night of woe and victory, the wailing of a poor dog--which
had followed his master--could be distinctly heard. The faithful
creature had found his master's body, and he pierced the night air with
his lamentations. Such was the field of Inkermann. That was keeping up
Gunpowder Plot with a vengeance.
* * * * *
The letter I sent to my parents on this occasion was as follows:--
Camp before Sebastopol,
November 6th, 1854.
My dear Parents,
Long before this reaches you, you will have seen the account
of our glorious battle of the 5th (yesterday). It was a
terrible fight. I was in the trenches when it commenced. We
had a shy at them there, and sent them back much quicker
than they came out. A number of us then marched on to the
field of Inkermann. The fight was raging when we got there;
and the fog was so dense that we could not see what we were
doing, or where to go. Our poor fellows soon began to drop.
We were wet through to the skin, and as hungry as hunters.
We were ordered to the Five-Gun Battery, to support our
comrades. Sir Thomas Troubridge was in command, and it took
all our time to hold our own. What a gunpowder plot! but,
above all, what a Sunday! I thought, dear father--I thought
of you, and what you were most likely doing. It's no use my
trying to hide or cloak matters up--you will see this is not
my handwriting--they have managed to hit me at last; but you
must not be alarmed; I am not half so badly hit as some of
my poor comrades are, so keep up your spirits. I am in good
hopes of getting over this; and, if it should please the
Lord to spare me, to be a comfort to you in your declining
days. Do not answer this, as a number of us are to be sent
down to Scutari. Will write as soon as I can. Do, dear
parents, try and keep your spirits up; and I know you will
not forget me at the Throne of Grace. I will try and give
you, at some future day, a full account, as far as I could
see, and from what I can find out from my comrades. Will
write as soon as I can. Cheer up! I'll warm them up for
this, if ever I get a chance. My kind love to poor mother,
brothers, and sisters.
Believe me, dear Father,
Your affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
The following is a copy of a letter addressed to Field-Marshal Lord
Raglan, by command of Her Most Gracious Majesty, on receipt of the news
of the victory at Inkermann:--
Her Majesty is desirous of expressing her gratitude for the
noble exertions of the troops in a conflict which is
unsurpassed in the annals of war for persevering valour and
chivalrous devotion. The strength and fury of the attacks,
repeatedly renewed by fresh columns with a desperation which
appeared to be irresistible, were spent in vain against the
unbroken lines, and the matchless intrepidity of the men
they had to encounter. Such attacks could only be repulsed
by that cool courage, under circumstances the most adverse,
and that confidence of victory, which have ever animated
the British Army. The banks of the Alma proved that no
advantages of position can withstand the impetuous assault
of the Army under your command. The heights of Inkermann
have now shown that the dense columns of an entire army are
unable to force the ranks of less than one-fourth their
numbers in the hand-to-hand encounters with the bayonet
which characterized this bloody day.
Her Majesty has observed with the liveliest feeling of
gratification the manner in which the troops of her ally,
the Emperor of the French, came to the aid of the divisions
of the British Army engaged in this numerically unequal
contest. The Queen is deeply sensible of the cordial
co-operation of the French Commander-in-Chief, General
Canrobert, and the gallant conduct of that distinguished
officer, General Bosquet; and Her Majesty recognizes in the
cheers with which the men of both nations encouraged each
other in their united charge, proofs of the esteem and
admiration mutually engendered by the campaign and the deeds
of heroism it has produced.
The Queen desires that your lordship will receive her thanks
for your conduct throughout this noble and successful
struggle, and that you will take measures for making known
her no less warm approval of the services of all the
officers, non-commissioned officers, and men, who have so
gloriously won, by their blood freely shed, fresh honours
for the Army of a country which sympathises as deeply with
their privations and exertions as it glories in their
victories and exults in their fame. _Let not any private
soldier in those ranks believe that his conduct is unheeded.
The Queen thanks him. His country honours him._
Her Majesty will anxiously expect the further despatch in
which your lordship proposes to name those officers whose
services have been especially worthy of notice. In the
meantime I am commanded by Her Majesty to signify her
approbation of the admirable behaviour of Lieut.-General Sir
George Brown, and her regret that he has been wounded in the
action. Her Majesty has received with feelings of no
ordinary pleasure your lordship's report of the manner in
which Lieut.-General His Royal Highness the Duke of
Cambridge distinguished himself. That one of the illustrious
members of her royal house should be associated with the
toils and glories of such an Army is to the Queen a source
of great pride and congratulation.
To Major-General Bentinck, Major-General Codrington,
Brigadier-Generals Adams, Terrens, and Buller, your lordship
will be pleased to convey the Queen's sympathy in their
wounds, and thanks for their services. To the other
officers named by your lordship I am directed to express Her
Majesty's approbation. The gallant conduct of Lieut.-General
Sir de Lacy Evans has attracted the Queen's especial thanks.
Weak from a bed of sickness he rose at the sound of the
battle, not to claim his share in prominent command, but to
aid with his veteran counsel and assistance the junior
officer upon whom, in his absence, had devolved the duty of
leading his division.
Proud of the victory won by her brave army--grateful to
those who wear the laurels of this great conflict--the Queen
is painfully affected by the heavy loss which has been
incurred, and deeply sensible to what is owing to the dead.
Those illustrious men cannot indeed receive the thanks of
their sovereign, which have so often cheered the soldier in
his severest trials; but their blood has not been shed in
vain. Laid low in their grave of victory, their names will
be cherished for ever by a grateful country, and posterity
will look upon the list of officers who have fallen as a
proof of the ardent courage and zeal with which they pointed
out the path of honour to their no less willing followers.
The loss of Lieut.-General the Honourable Sir George
Cathcart is to the Queen and to her people a cause of sorrow
which even dims the triumph of this great occasion. His
loyalty, his patriotism, and self-devotion, were not less
conspicuous than his high military reputation. One of a
family of warriors, he was an honour to them and an ornament
to his profession. Arrived in his native land from a colony
to which he had succeeded in restoring peace and
contentment, he obeyed at a moment's notice the call of
duty, and he hastened to join that army in which the Queen
and his country fondly hoped he would have lived to win
increased renown.
The death of Brigadier-Generals Strangways and Goldie has
added to the sorrow which mingles in the rejoicing of this
memorable battle. The Queen sympathises in the loss
sustained by the families of her officers and soldiers, but
Her Majesty bids them reflect with her, and derive
consolation from the thought, that they fell in the sacred
cause of justice, and in the ranks of a noble army.
I have the honour to be, my lord,
Your lordship's obedient, humble servant,
NEWCASTLE.
To Field-Marshal Lord Raglan, K.C.B., and C.
As a further mark of Her Most Gracious Majesty's approbation of the
heroic, matchless gallantry displayed on that memorable field, the
following Royal Warrant was issued:--
The Queen has been pleased to command that, as a mark of Her
Majesty's recognition of the meritorious services of the
non-commissioned officers of the Army, under the command of
Field-Marshal Lord Raglan, in the recent brilliant
operations in the Crimea, the Field-Marshal shall submit,
through the General Commander-in-Chief, the name of one
Sergeant of each Regiment of Cavalry, of the three
Battalions of Foot Guards, and of every Regiment of Infantry
of the line, to be promoted to a cornetcy or ensigncy for
Her Majesty's approval; and, with the view to render
immediately available the services of these meritorious men,
Her Majesty has directed that the Field-Marshal do appoint
provisionally, and pending Her Majesty's pleasure, the
Sergeants so recommended to Regiments in the Army under his
command; and Her Majesty has further been graciously pleased
to signify her intention that, on the several
recommendations receiving Her Majesty's approval, the
commissions shall in each case bear date the 5th of
November, 1854.
* * * * *
For these are deeds which must not pass away,
Names that must not, cannot wither;
For through tracks of death they led the way
On the blood-stained heights of Inkermann.
A FEW WORDS ABOUT A NORFOLK HERO AT INKERMANN.
Of all the brave men who fought at Inkermann, none could surpass Sir
Thomas Troubridge. It is but little use trying to pick out this or that
regiment, for on that memorable field there were no supports or
reserves; every man was in the fighting line, and it was "conquer or
die." One in the thick of the fight could not see much, but I simply
know that none could take the shine out of the old Fusiliers. And with
such men as Colonel Lacy Yea, Sir Thomas Troubridge, Captain Shipley,
Lord R. Brown, Mr. Jones, and a few others, our men would have gone
through fire and water. Sir Thomas Troubridge was the admiration of all,
for, though terribly wounded, he would not allow himself to be removed
from the ground until victory had declared itself for the sons of
Albion, but remained, with the bravest fortitude, encouraging his men to
"fight it out." He would now and then call out, "Fire away, my lads;
give them the steel if you get a chance; stick to them my men." It was a
sergeant named Laws, (a Norwich man), who ran for a doctor to attend
upon him; but his resolute spirit did not forsake him. No, he would
rather die on the field, at his post with his Fusiliers, than be carried
to a place of safety. And his noble conduct had a wonderful effect upon
the men, for everyone would have died rather than forsake him--such a
gallant soldier. At the Alma his conduct was the admiration of all who
could see him, for he was often in front of us, encouraging us; but he
escaped that fiery ordeal without a scratch, to fall, with both feet
gone, on a more glorious field. Like a number of the bravest of the
brave, he was a good living man, and was prepared for anything. He was
as true as steel; an honest, upright, truthful, fearless, good man,
gifted with a clear, comprehensive mind, and every inch a Fusilier.
_Note referred to at Page 41._
THE FIRST TO LAND IN THE CRIMEA.
I do not wish to be partial, but to give honour where honour is due.
There have been doubts expressed as to which regiment landed first on
the enemy's shore in the Crimea, on the 14th September, 1854. I will
claim that honour for the 7th Royal Fusiliers; and, further, for that
noble hero the late General (then Major) Sir Thomas St. Vincent Cochrane
Troubridge, Bart. Sir Thomas sprang from a family of tried warriors, his
father being right hand man to the immortal Nelson, at St. Vincent, the
Nile, and Trafalgar. The following letter will, I hope, clear up all
doubts as to who first landed.
Viceregal Lodge, Dublin,
April 17th, 1856.
My Dear Sir,
As doubts have been expressed as to which regiment landed
first in the Crimea, I therefore think it only an act of
justice to inform you that a company of the 7th Fusiliers,
under Major Sir T. Troubridge, was in my boat; and that the
only boat near us was one belonging to, I think, the
Sanspareil, and having Rifles on board. Sir G. Brown had
previously landed with Captain Dacres, R.N. I may say that
mine were the first troops landed in the Crimea. I write
this that you may do justice to a regiment that I have long
known, and that is second to none in the British Army.
I remain, my dear Sir,
Truly yours,
C. VESEY,
Com. R.N., and A.D.C.
CHAPTER III.
Voyage to Malta--Scenes between Decks--An insufficiency of
Doctors--Landing at Malta--Kind Treatment in Hospital--The
Nurses--Fast Recovery--Letter Home--Longing to be at it
again--Purchase of Blankets and other Comforts--Another
Letter Home--To the Front again--Reception by old
Mess-Mates--Sufferings of the Army--Break-down of the
Commissariat--Plenty of Stores Rotting in Harbour, but none
to be got by the Troops--Make-shifts--Appearance of the Men.
As soon as it came to my turn I was attended to, and my wounds dressed
and bandaged. I remained for two days, and then a number of us were sent
to Scutari. We were taken down to Balaclava on mules, some of them lent
by our chivalrous allies the French. We got a good shaking, but
eventually found ourselves on board an old steamer. It was a horrible
scene--poor fellows having every description of wound; and many died
before we left the harbour. We were packed on board anyhow,--to live or
die; and away we went. The sea was rather boisterous, and, I can assure
the reader, I was not very comfortable, with poor fellows dying fast all
around me. There were not sufficient medical officers to look after
fifty men, much less three or four hundred.
I would here ask the reader to try and picture to himself a ship rolling
and tossing about at sea with such a freight. The sight was
heart-rending. Many of our poor fellows had had not the slightest thing
done for them since they were wounded on that bloody field. They had
fought and helped to uphold the honour of their country, and were now
left to die in agony, and--oh! horror of horrors!--their poor mangled
bodies were infested with vermin. I could give particulars that would
cause the blood of the reader to curdle in his veins and shock his
credulity, but I forbear. Enough has been said, surely, to afford a
sufficient condemnation of British management! Yet in spite of these
facts, which were too patent to be kept from them, thousands upon
thousands of the youth of the three kingdoms were burning to join their
countrymen at the seat of war. On behalf of the British army I demand
fair treatment for the men who are willing to risk their lives in the
service of their country. Horses and even dogs received far more
attention and better treatment during that trying campaign than the poor
sick and wounded men. I say that what is needed is some system of
organization that shall render impossible the repetition of such
inhumanities as disgraced the Crimean campaign. Let men of brains, and
with human hearts in their bosoms, be appointed to devise such a system,
and I am certain my fellow-countrymen will grudge no expense in making
it effective. Our doctors worked like horses, but they could not do
impossibilities; six times the number could not have done the work--but
the fault did not rest with them.
After being tossed about for some four or five days, we reached Scutari,
to find it so full of sick and wounded that we were not allowed to land,
and on we had to go to Malta. Describe the scene between decks I could
not. Men were on all sides shrieking with pain, some were lying in a
state of putrefaction, others in a morbid state, and some were being
carried up on deck, to be consigned, wrapped in a blanket, to a watery
grave.
At last we reached our desired haven, Malta, and were taken ashore as
quickly as possible. Many an eye was wet with tears; the good people did
all that lay in their power for us, and we could see pity beaming upon
every countenance. We found the Maltese a kind-hearted people. On to the
hospital we went, were at once put to bed, and attended to by kind
motherly hands, that did all that was possible to soothe us. Nothing
could exceed the kindness of all those who had anything to do with us.
In one month I was on my feet again, convalescent, and with plenty of
good nourishment I soon began to gather strength; and in the early part
of January, 1855, wanted to be off again, to have a little satisfaction,
but I had to remain another month. * * * * *
I wrote to my parents from Malta, under date as follows:--
December 21st, 1854.
Once more a line from your rough but affectionate son. Your
letters have all duly reached me. I am happy to inform you
that I am getting on capitally. I have the best of
attention; and, what's more, a pretty young lady for my
nurse. You know, father, that soldiers have an eye to pretty
girls; but woe be to the man who would attempt to molest one
of these dear creatures, for they are worth their weight in
gold. I am able to stand up, I am happy to inform you; but I
must not let my nurse see me, or the doctor would eat me.
We found that the nation's heart was bleeding for her soldiers and
sailors--a grateful country was roused by the before unheard-of
privations and sufferings and the heroic stand that her sons were
making. All, even our enemies, were compelled to admire the daring
devotion and courage displayed by a mere handful of men, at the heights
of Alma; all were compelled to applaud the conduct of our soldiers on
the plains of Balaclava; and the stand made at Inkermann will be the
theme of admiration for ages to come. England and the world admitted
that every man had nobly done his duty, and that the conquerors on
Inkermann's heights had every whit the courage and daring of their
forefathers.
I was now well able to take my walks abroad and have a good look at all
the sights and scenes of Malta, and there are some grand sights to be
seen--the Church of St. John, I suppose, is one of the grandest in the
world. Then I used to wander around the vast fortifications day after
day. Accounts kept coming in from the seat of war. We heard that our
poor fellows were dying fast of starvation and cold; death was, in fact,
raging through the camp at a fearful pace, and yet our men stuck to it.
From letters I received from the front, it appeared the storm that had
struck the Crimea had swept away nearly all our poor fellows' tents, and
they had to get into caves in the rocks, and do the best they could on
that terrible 14th November, 1854. The ship "Prince," with winter
clothing for the whole army, had gone down just outside the harbour of
Balaclava--all hands perished; and a number of other ships shared the
same fate. The cold was something terrible, men were frost-bitten, daily
losing fingers and toes, and undergoing such sufferings as no tongue or
pen can describe. In December, 1854, and January and February, 1855, our
poor fellows were dying like rotten sheep for want of the common
necessaries of life--they had little or no food, hardly sufficient
clothing to cover their nakedness, the tents were full of holes, and
they had nothing but mud to lay their weary bones in, with the
thermometer far below freezing point. Then, too, they often had to fight
with desperation to hold their own. So, upon the whole, there was not a
very bright prospect before me.
Regiments and drafts kept passing on for the front, and I was longing to
have a slap at them once more, just by way of getting out of debt; so,
towards the end of February, 1855, after I had made some splendid
purchases in the way of good blankets, 2 dozen good flannel shirts, 2
dozen ditto drawers, 2 dozen warm gloves for my comrades, a good supply
of flannels for myself, and a brace of revolvers, off I went once more
to fight for Old England, home, and glory. These facts were communicated
to my parents, in the following letter:-
Malta, Feb, 11th, 1855.
My Dear Parents,
I do not think I shall be here much longer. A number of us
are ready for them again, and I have a debt to pay off, but
at your request will not run my head into danger more than I
can avoid; but I hope the Lord will give me strength of mind
and of body to do my duty; for, father, I do believe I am a
true-born Suffolk man, for I could not bear the thought of
skulking. If ever I fall, I hope it will be with my face to
the foe, and that after I have got out of debt--for I should
not like to owe them anything. I never yet told you that two
of them came at me at Inkermann, and that was not fair,
taking into consideration they could see that I was engaged
at the time with a huge monster. Never mind; thank God I
have got over that, and am ready for them again. I hope my
next letter will be from the interior of Sebastopol. The
French appear to mean business; hardly a day passes but
ships laden with them put in here for coal. A number of
their Imperial Guards landed here a few days ago. There were
four or five of us out for a walk; and when it was explained
to them that we had all been at the Alma, and were wounded
at Inkermann, you would have thought they had gone mad; they
embraced and kissed us over and over again, and shouted
'_Bon Anglais, Bon Anglais!_' and '_Vive l'Empereur!_' until
further orders. I thought it was a great pity we did not
understand each other--we had two interpreters--and I can
tell you that they had quite enough of it; but as far as I
could see, the very name of Inkermann was enough for three
or four cuddles; and although I did not like to be kissed by
a man, I had to put up with it. They are fine looking men; a
great many of them are much taller than I am (six feet),
and, if they get a chance, will most likely leave their mark
upon the Russians. At all events, they will soon have a peep
at them, and will find them ugly customers to deal with.
Well, we parted with our friends on the best of terms, but
we had to put up with another good squeeze. I must tell you
I have been marketing. I have bought all sorts of warm
clothing for my comrades, for I find it is needed: they
found the cash. I have got a good revolver for myself, and
am off to-morrow. I do not wish to boast; but, come what
will, I will never bring disgrace upon our old county--dear
old Suffolk, that gave me birth--or upon Norfolk, that
brought me up. Remember, dear father, Norfolk can boast of
Nelson.[2] Keep up your spirits, dear parents; all's well
that ends well. Will write as soon as I can. Good bye, and
God bless you.
Believe me, as ever,
Your affectionate son,
T. GOWING, Sergeant,
Royal Fusiliers.
We had a jolly time of it all the way up, plenty of the good things of
this life on board. What a difference! what a contrast to the voyage
down! We had forgotten all our pains and sorrows, and were once more on
the way to assist our comrades in subduing the haughty Muscovites. We
knew well that in all probability few of us would ever see our dear old
home again, or those who were near and dear to us. But we had to look
stern necessity in the face. It was a call to duty that we were obeying,
and for "England's home and beauty" we would go forward, let the
consequences be what they might. Many an aching mother's heart was
following our every movement. The scenes that we had already passed
through were enough to melt more than one Absolom's heart, and set him
thinking, first, of an endless eternity, and then of a fond and almost
broken-hearted mother at home. But duty, stern duty, must be done, and
done well, "for England expects that every man will in the hour of need
do his duty." It was still very cold, but we had plenty of clothing and
wanted for nothing. We had some splendid sights going through the
Dardanelles. Constantinople looked grand; but we were not allowed to
disembark, though we stayed there for a time to take in coal; then away
we went. We met some of our poor fellows coming from the front. We found
the Black Sea very rough, in fact, rolling mountains high, but our
gallant old ship dashed on; we had another in tow, but lost her--the
cable broke in the night, and she had to look out for herself. We
reached the snug little harbour of Balaclava on the morning of the 8th
March, 1855, and, as usual, found it crammed with shipping. We had to
remain outside, until our Captain obtained permission to enter, then in
we went and landed; at once marching to the front to the old Light
Division, and I again found myself in the midst of old chums--but what
an alteration! Poor half-starved miserable-looking creatures, mere
wrecks of humanity, but still with that unconquerable look about them,
so that it was a pleasure to do anything for them. I had a treat in
store for my company. I asked and obtained leave to go to Balaclava the
following day, telling the Captain what I had brought for the men. I
took six men with me and loaded them with some of the good things I had
purchased, and away we went back again. We had to plough through mud
nearly all the way up to our ankles; and when I came to open the
packages and distribute the goods, I got many a "God bless you,
Sergeant." A flannel shirt and drawers were worth their weight in gold.
I did not lose a man out of my tent after I rejoined, except from the
enemy's fire; the flannel kept the cold out; the men were always
cheerful and I could do anything I liked with them--they were a brave
set of fellows. Let our men have but fair treatment, and I have not the
slightest hesitation in saying, that they would, if well officered,
shake the biggest bullies on the Continent out of their boots, and chase
them off any field.
* * * * *
The loss of the Prince, on the evening of the 14th November, 1854, just
outside the harbour of Balaclava, was the cause of thousands of poor
fellows coming to an untimely end; for, in addition to an enormous
supply of everything that could be thought of to combat the foe with,
such as small-arm ammunition, shot and shell of all sizes, &c., she had
on board for the army the following:--
Woollen coats or frocks 53,000
Pairs of worsted socks or stockings 33,000
〃 lamb's wool socks or stockings 2,700
〃 drawers--lamb's wool 17,000
Good blankets (single) 16,000
〃 palliasses (single, for hospitals) 10,000
〃 rugs (single) 3,750
〃 cloaks, well lined with flannel 2,500
Pairs of boots (ankles) 12,880
〃 shoes, for hospitals 1,000
Eight other ships were also lost, with nearly all hands on board, that
night. The value of their freights has been estimated at £1,500,000. But
the value of the stores and outfits for the army was incalculable. From
that date the deplorable condition of the army commences. Yet there were
thousands of tons of stores lying at Balaclava, rotting. The
Commissariat had completely broken down. All that was wanting, was
someone with a head on to put things straight--all was higgledy-piggledy
and confusion. The cavalry horses, that had cost an enormous amount,
sank up to their knees in mud at every step, until they dropped
exhausted; and all the way from the camp to Balaclava were to be seen
dead horses, mules, and bullocks in every stage of decomposition. And
our poor fellows, who had fought so well at the Alma, Balaclava, and the
two Inkermanns, were now dying by hundreds daily. The army was put upon
half rations, viz:--half-a-pound of mouldy biscuit, and half-a-pound of
of salt junk (beef or pork); coffee was served out, but in its raw green
state, with no means of roasting it. No wood or firing was to be had,
except a few roots that were dug up. Men would come staggering into the
camp from the trenches soaked to the skin and ravenously hungry, when a
half-pound of mouldy biscuit would be issued, with the same quantity of
salt junk, so hard that one almost wanted a good hatchet to break it.
The scenes were heart-rending. The whole camp was one vast sheet of mud,
the trenches in many places knee deep; men died at their posts from
sheer exhaustion or starvation, rather than complain, for if they
reported themselves sick the medical chests were empty. And amidst all
these privations the enemy kept peppering away at them. A bright but
melancholy proof was then given of what Britons will endure before they
give up. But, perhaps, one of the most mortifying pills that our poor
fellows had to swallow was the knowledge that, although they were dying
by wholesale for the want of shelter, clothing, and food, the huts had
arrived in safety at Balaclava, or were floating about the harbour and
being stolen by those handy little fellows, the Zouaves, to make
fire-wood of; the overcoats lay in lighters; while food and nourishment,
and every comfort that could be thought of by a kind-hearted
people--such as potted meats of all descriptions, ground coffee,
preserved soups, good thick warm flannel shirts, comforters knitted by
ladies at home, flannel drawers, and good fustian jackets, waterproof
coats and leggings, and tobacco in tons--were rotting in the harbour or
stacked up upon the shore. A few men who were stationed at or near
Balaclava got the lion's share. The Guards had not much to complain of
after they were sent down to Balaclava, for they were in clover--little
or nothing to do--and if they did not exactly live upon the fat of the
land, they ought to have done so. As for the unfortunate divisions that
had, day after day and night after night, to face the foe in the
trenches, hardly an officer, or man but was suffering from diarrhoea
or dysentery. And, to make things worse, medicine could not be had. Some
of our regimental doctors actually begged the chief medical authorities,
for humanity's sake, to let them have some medicine for diarrhoea or
fever; but, no! the answer was "We have none." "Have you any medicine
for rheumatism?" "No! we have none." Thus, our fellow-countrymen were
left to die, whilst tons of medicines of all descriptions were close
at hand, floating in the harbour of Balaclava! But I must be honest,
and say plainly that a vast deal of the sickness was brought on by
the men themselves by excessive drinking. We were allowed three (and
sometimes four) drams of the best rum daily; but from the manner in
which it was issued it would not intoxicate the men, for it was divided
into three or four parts, and in camp it was mixed with lime juice.
But there were hundreds not satisfied with that, who would go anywhere
and do anything to get more; and then in all probability fall down,
and, if not noticed by some one, the extreme cold soon settled up
their account--_frost-bitten or frozen to death_. Thus, it was not all
the fault of the authorities. The whole army was in rags and filth,
and half frozen in the trenches in front of the enemy. Not one, but
hundreds, were stricken down by starvation. They were only about eight
miles from plenty, and yet were dying of hunger; there were clothing
and medical stores in ship-loads, but no organization. And yet, with
all this wretchedness, our men fought with undaunted bravery whenever
the enemy attempted to trespass upon the ground they were told to hold.
In January, 1855, after thousands had died, the warm clothing was served
out, but blankets were still short. And--would you believe it,
reader?--when men who had died in hospital were taken to their last
abode rolled up in a blanket, on arrival at the grave or pit, the
unfortunate dead, perhaps a loving son of some poor heart-broken mother,
was rolled out of the blanket into his grave in a state of nudity, and
at once covered up with a few shovels-full of earth, _the blanket being
brought back and washed, and becoming the property of one who had helped
at the interment_. I knew of a very painful case. One of our sergeants
named G----s, had buried two poor fellows on a cold bleak morning in
the month of January, 1855, but through some mistake had left them in
their blankets. On returning to camp he met our Colonel, who inquired
what he had been doing; and when the poor fellow said that he was
returning from the cemetery, and that he had just interred two men, the
Colonel roared out--"Then where are the blankets, Sir; go back and get
them, and parade them before me when washed." A kinder-hearted man, or a
braver soldier than our Commander never faced the foe; but orders must
be obeyed. Some regiments were reduced to a single company, and had to
be sent out of the field, yet had not suffered much from the enemy. The
Guards left home 2,500 strong, and reinforcements amounting to 1500 had
joined them; but by the end of 1854 they could only muster about 900 fit
for duty. Lads were sent out and died almost as soon as they landed; one
night in the trenches was quite enough for them--they either crawled
back to camp and died, or were sent home again, or to Scutari or Malta.
A number of poor fellows were almost daily sent down to Balaclava on
litters--one on either side of a mule--they formed a ghastly procession;
many died before they reached the port. Death was stalking all over our
camp, on every side was cholera in its worst form, dysentery,
diarrhoea, rheumatism, catarrh, and scurvy. Men were positively
forbidden to take off their boots, as it was found impossible to get
them on again; while some might be seen limping about the camp in the
snow (two or three feet deep) with no boots of any sort; others with
boots up to their knees, which they had borrowed from some dead Russian.
Some of our critics (newspaper correspondents) were at a loss to find
out to what regiment a man really belonged, or even what nation, as
during the worst part of the winter no two men were dressed alike. Some
had hay bands bound round their legs, others had long stockings outside
their rags or trousers, some had garters made from old knapsacks,
others had leggings made from sheep skins, bullocks' hides, buffalo
hides, horse hides--anything to keep the extreme cold out. Some had got
hold of a Russian officer's overcoat, which was almost a load to carry.
As for Joseph's coat of many colours, I do not think it would have taken
a prize for patchwork by the side of some of our men's clothing. They
say patch beside patch looks neighbourly, but our men's coats were
nothing but rags tacked together. As for head dress, some had mess-tin
covers that could be pulled down well over the ears; others had
coverings for the head made out of old blankets four or five times
doubled. Yet there was but little murmuring so long as the men could get
sufficient to eat, and in the midst of all their troubles they were
loyal to the backbone, and would sing aloud "God save the Queen." Some
of their beards and moustaches were almost two feet long, and sometimes
these were so frozen that they could not open their mouths until they
could get to a fire and thaw them. As the reader may imagine, they were
a queer-looking lot; but nothing but death could subdue them. They were
not very "_illigant_" in their appearance, but one could read in their
countenances that they meant death or victory. During January, 1855, the
men were informed that Her Most Gracious Majesty had been pleased to
grant a medal with three clasps for the Crimean campaign, thus--one for
Alma, one for Balaclava, and one for Inkermann. Little Inkermann was not
named; and some of the officers, non-commissioned officers, and men, who
had fought there, were not at all satisfied. Some of our men inquired
what we were to get for the town. Why, a star, of course! _A crack of
the head more likely._ This was in January, 1855; we little dreamt then
that we should have nine months' more continuous fighting before
Sebastopol fell, and that much more of the best blood of Britain was to
be spilt long before then. I have often thought since that my getting
those two nasty pokes at Inkermann was the means, in the hands of God,
of saving my life; for I thus escaped the hardships of the months of
November and December, 1854, and January and February, 1855. During my
absence from the camp there was not much fighting going on, except at
the "ovens," as our men called them; for the enemy could not stand the
intense cold any more than our men; though they had the best of us, as
they had good shelter huts until our guns knocked them about their ears.
THE SOLDIER'S DEATH.
Nobly he led them to the strong redoubt,
And gallantly they put the foe to rout;
He coveted the thickest of the fight,
Where bullets whistled, and where blades gleamed bright.
Where foes were fiercest he was sure to be,
His strong arm dealing death, for naught cared he;
And while around he heard his comrades' cheer,
Bravely and well he fought, unknown to fear;
But just as o'er the hill-tops sank the sun,
And shouts of vict'ry told the day was won,
Watching with triumph the retreating foe,
A random shot was fired which laid him low.
And there upon the battle plain he lies,
The light of vict'ry beaming in his eyes;
And at his side his gallant fellows stand,
Anxious once more to clasp their leader's hand.
But see! a smile lights up the pallid face;
And hark! he speaks with military grace:
"I'm done for, lads; 'tis hard to leave you all,
And just as we have won the day to fall.
Ill-luck was ever mine; I'm forced to go
The moment we have driven back the foe.
Perhaps 'tis best; there's One above who knows,
For in His hand He holds both friends and foes;
But, lads, when safe you reach old England's shore,
Home, sweet, sweet home, which I shall see no more.
Just seek out father, mother, sis, and tell
Them all that I have done my duty well;
Good-bye, brave lads; my freed and happy soul
Now answers to the heavenly muster roll.
You'll think of me, when far across the wave,
As sweetly slumbering in the soldier's grave."
CHAPTER IV.
More Trench Work--Meeting with Capt. Vicars--My Letter of
the 15th March, 1855--Night Attack in the Trenches--Capt.
Vicars' Death--A few Remarks showing his Noble Character--My
Letter Descriptive of the Fight--Storming Rifle Pits--More
Trench Duty--Supplementary Letter--The Taking of the
Quarries and Circular Trench--Desperate Fighting before
Sebastopol, the 7th and 88th Leading--My Letter Home, 8th
June--Continued Fighting--First Assault on the Town--Its
Bloody Repulse--The Poor Old Light Division Cut to
Pieces--The Fusiliers again Led the Way--My Letter of the
18th--Waiting to be Revenged--A Terrible Night--Attack by
the Enemy and its Bloody Repulse--My Letter of the 28th June
describing the Fight--Death of Lord Raglan, much felt
through the Allied Army--The Battle of Tchernaya, 16th
August--The Enemy's Last Throw for Victory Defeated--My
Letter Home of the 18th Aug.--Creeping Closer and Closer to
the Doomed City--The Last or Terrible Bombardment--A Nasty
Blunder, our own people pitching into us--My Letter Home, 2
a.m., 8th Sept.--P.S. to it announcing my Death--My P.P.S.
after I had recovered.
Our heavy guns still kept at it. I soon found my way into the trenches
again, and had a very narrow escape, not of being wounded, but of being
"taken in and done for," or killed on the spot. In the dark, after
posting some sentries, I took a wrong turn and went almost into the
midst of the enemy. They could have shot me; but just then, I am sorry
to say, we had a number of men deserting to the enemy, and I believe
they thought I was one of that class, but they soon found out their
mistake, for I was off as fast as my legs could carry me in the opposite
direction. As need scarcely be remarked, I did not wait to look behind
me until I got close up to our own people, then I turned about and faced
them.
* * * * *
That night I met for the first time that noble-minded man, Capt. Hedley
Vicars. He and I had a long chat in the trench. Although I had heard of
him, I had not until then known him personally. He was under the
impression this was my first time in front of the enemy, as I told him I
was nearly taken prisoner; but when I informed him I had been present at
the Alma, Balaclava, and Inkermann, and was wounded at the latter
battle, he was quite astonished. He was very affable and kind, and his
men seemed to be very fond of him. He appeared to be one of those cool
determined men that are sure to win the respect of all classes, and will
lead men at anything. As far as I could see, he had not a bit of pride
about him. I soon found that he was a Christian, and was not ashamed of
his Master. The light that had been planted in him he could not hide
under a bushel, for his whole conversation was of redeeming love, and
how he had been plucked "as a brand from the fire," when afar off from
God by wicked works. What a soldier! I told him about my comrade at the
Alma. "Well, Sergeant," he said, "the Lord's time is the right time; who
is the best off now, you or he?" He then asked me a number of questions
about better things; I do not think I ever met such a man. His men
seemed to be devotedly fond of him. I spent some time with him next day,
as the 97th touched our right, the left of their detachment meeting the
right of ours. He invited me to his tent for that night for prayer, as
he told me a few who loved the Lord met there as often as they could. I
did not profess anything at the time, but was going against light and
knowledge. I went once and only once, before he was killed.
This subject is referred to at greater length in my next letter home,
which was as follows:--
Camp before Sebastopol,
March 15th, 1855.
My Dear Parents,
Once more a few lines from this miserable camp--mud! mud!!
mud!!! We arrived here on the 8th, and at once marched up to
the front; a number of my poor comrades I hardly knew--what
a change! The old Fusiliers, once one of the finest corps in
our service, now poor half-starved, miserable-looking wrecks
of humanity. The older hands had still that unconquerable
look about them, that it would be far cheaper for the enemy
to build a bridge of gold for them to pass over, than to try
and take them prisoners. We have plenty of work in the camp;
and 'tis bleak, cold work in the trenches, standing up to
our ankles in mud and water, with hardly sufficient food to
keep body and soul together; as for the fighting, we never
hear one word of murmuring about that. I came off the
trenches last night; we had a brush at the enemy, but it was
soon all over: our people were ready for them, and gave them
a warm reception. I met with a Captain of the 97th (Vicars).
He is, I do believe, a thorough Christian man. We had a long
chat together. He appears to be a general favourite with his
men. He held a prayer-meeting in the trench yesterday
morning, and got as many men around him as he could. I like
him very much. I do wish he belonged to us (the Fusiliers, I
mean); he appears a good, earnest man, and not at all
backward in standing up in his Master's name, trying to
Extol the stem of Jesse's rod,
And crown Him Lord of all,
in this cold, bleak corner of the earth; but yet a most
determined soldier for his country. Some of his sergeants
told me yesterday morning that he had used his good sword
the night previous about some of the enemy, and they did not
think the doctors would be of much use after he had done
with them. The noble Captain invited me to his tent, and I
spent, I am happy to say, a comfortable hour with him. I do
not know when this town will be taken, there is a lot of
rough fighting to be done yet. I must conclude, with love to
all; it is very cold to handle the pen. Pray for me, and God
bless you all.
Believe me, ever
Your affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
I was with Capt. Vicars once more in the trenches before that miserable
night, the 22nd March. We had a lot of sickness in the camp, and duty
was very heavy for those who could do it. The Old Light Division had
been strengthened by the 34th to the 1st Brigade, and the 90th and 97th
to the 2nd Brigade; but, with sickness and hardships, they, like
ourselves, were not very strong--except in the head.
A NIGHT ATTACK IN THE TRENCHES.
DEATH OF CAPTAIN VICARS.
That 22nd March was a terrible night to be out in. We were nearly up to
our knees in mud and water. It came on to blow and rain as hard as it
fairly could. It was as dark as pitch, and in the midst of all--our
plight was, I suppose, not bad enough--the enemy came out and attacked
us, in both flanks and front. They came on pretending that they were
French, and in the dark we could not see them; so that they were right
in the midst of us before we could fire a shot. Talk about hard
knocks,--they were served out that night as freely as ever they were. It
was foot and fist, butt and bayonet, as hard as we could go at it; in
fact, they could have it any way they liked: the fighting was desperate.
The enemy came on in overwhelming numbers,--there were enough to eat
us,--but we stuck to them with a deathlike grip, until they were driven
back. We lost both our Officers that night--Capt. the Hon. C. Brown, and
a Mr. Henry, who was a fine specimen of a British soldier. The former
was killed, and the latter dangerously wounded. The news flew that
Captain Vicars had fallen, and the men rushed in the direction in which
it was said he was, and literally lifted the enemy from the field with
the bayonet. Some of our men's bayonets were bent like reaping-hooks
next morning, which was a clear proof of the vehemence with which we
had been at it. My letter will more fully describe that attack. The 97th
were wrought up to a state of madness, to think that so kind and good an
officer should fall by the hands of such fiends. The enemy were at last
sent reeling from the field with our bayonets uncomfortably close to
them. It was one of the most desperate attacks the Russians had made
since the commencement of the siege, and the slaughter was in
proportion; the bayonet was the chief weapon used, and, after poor Capt.
Vicars fell, it was used with a will and with a vengeance.
[Illustration: THE NIGHT ATTACK IN THE TRENCHES, WHEN HEDLEY VICARS
FELL,
_22nd March, 1855._]
One Russian was caught trying to walk off with one of our small mortars;
he was a huge monster, but some ten inches of cold steel, from a man
named Pat Martin, stopped his career. Another, a Greek Priest, fired his
revolver into our small-arm magazine, but luckily no harm was done. He
was at once bayoneted; next morning he was seen to be a powerful fellow.
Poor Capt. Vicars was brought into the trench and placed upon a
stretcher. He seemed quite cheerful, said he did not think it was much,
and hoped soon to be able to go at them again. These were not, perhaps,
his exact words, but the substance of them as nearly as I can remember.
He was then sent home to camp, but before he had reached it his spirit
had fled to him who gave it. He was ready. A faithful soldier of the
Cross, he had, from the day it had pleased the Lord to speak peace to
him, been always ready to depart to be with Jesus. A noble and brave
man, he did not know what fear was as far as the enemy was concerned,
but he loved the Lord with all his heart and soul; and, like one of old,
was not at all ashamed to stand forth and tell poor sinners what the
Lord had done for him. But he is gone to be with Him whom he loved to
speak of when on earth.
Her Most Gracious Majesty had lost by that fatal bullet one of Britain's
bravest sons; and all around the spot where poor Vicars had fallen it
was evident the bayonet had done some terrible work.[3] The enemy let us
alone for the remainder of the night, and next morning there was a flag
of truce out. They had paid heavily for their intrusion, for in places
they lay in heaps one on the top of the other. We were relieved next
morning; and in the evening poor Capt. Vicars was laid in his cold
grave, together with other officers. We committed his body to the earth,
And his pure soul unto his Captain, Christ,
Under whose colours he had fought so long.
The 97th seemed to feel his loss keenly, and over his grave strong men
wept like a lot of children who had lost a fond father, and then vowed
they would revenge him the first opportunity.[4] The Captain was a
general favourite throughout the Light Division, for he used to go, when
off duty, from regiment to regiment doing all he could to point poor
thoughtless sinners to the Lamb of God.
Such were some of the men who helped to unfurl the Standard of old
England on the blood-stained walls of Sebastopol; and, while some were
struck down to rise no more, in the first action; others were permitted,
apparently with a charmed life, to go from field to field. I am not one
of those who believe that all is left to chance, on the contrary, I am
convinced that all our lives are in God's keeping. I know that I have
been mercifully watched over through seen and unseen dangers of no mean
sort. Besides those events that I have here narrated, I have yet to tell
of nineteen years' life in India with sword and pestilence scattering
death all around me.
The following is my letter describing the fighting of the 22nd:--
Camp before Sebastopol,
March 24th, 1855.
My Dear Parents,
I hardly know how to commence this letter. Since mine of the
15th, we have had a terrible fight. Thank God, I have been
spared once more. I do think that I am out of their debt. To
describe the fight adequately, would be impossible. I will
try and do a little to it. A good strong party of us, under
command of Captain the Hon. C. Brown, went into the trenches
on the 22nd. It blew a perfect hurricane, with rain and
sleet; it came down just anyhow. We were standing up to our
ankles in mud and water, like a lot of half-frozen,
half-drowned rats, when, about 10.30 p.m., the enemy
attacked our Allies. It was as dark as the grave, and in
fact, we could not see one yard in front of us. We had
strong parties of the Light Division in our advanced works.
The enemy got right in the midst of us before we knew
anything of their whereabouts, and then we set to work with
the bayonet. It was charge and re-charge, officers shouting
to their men "This way, this way, Fusiliers!" "Come on,
90th!" "Now, at them, 97th!" We had to grope for them the
best way we could, stumbling over friend and foe. Up and at
them again. Officers fighting with desperation, shouting all
the time, "Come on my lads, stick to them." Our Captain was
killed, and one of our Lieutenants (a Mr. Henry) wounded. He
was a man of about six feet two-and-a-half inches, and
before he fell he let the enemy know what metal he was made
of. You remember a Captain of the 97th, that I have spoken
about (Captain H. Vicars, I mean): I am sorry to have to
inform you that he received his death wound while nobly
leading the 97th and us, shouting with all his might, "This
way, 97th; come on, Fusiliers." Our men took a terrible
revenge for his death. A number of our bayonets were bent
like reaping-hooks next morning; and all around where that
noble Christian fell, the enemy lay thick, one on the top of
the other. They fought with desperation; but that
never-failing weapon, the bayonet, was too much for them.
They tried to blow up our small-arm magazine, but the fellow
who made the attempt was at once despatched. The sights next
morning (the 23rd,) were awful. I do believe, for the time
it lasted, it was worse than Inkermann: it was nothing but
butt and bayonet, and some of our Lancashire boys did not
forget to use their feet. Thank God, I got out of it without
a scratch worth mentioning. I managed to lose my cap, a shot
went through the collar of my coat, and one through my
trousers. We buried our officers last night, and there was
hardly a dry eye when poor Captain Vicars was lowered into
his grave. I feel confident that he has gone to that Home
that is prepared for all those who are faithful to the end.
This army has lost a cool, determined officer, and there is
one Christian less in this sin-blighted world. He had won
the affections of the whole Light Division. The 97th might
well be proud of him. It is only a few days since I was with
him at one of his meetings; but, dear father, he is not
lost, but gone before. He can now sing, with all his manly
heart, while he views his glorious Master without a veil
between.
It is bitterly cold here at present, and I for one do wish
they would let us go at the town. We know well that it will
be a hard nut to crack, but it must be done, the honour of
Old England and France is at stake, and take it we will some
day. I do not wish you to publish my letters, for the simple
reason that sometimes I speak a little too plainly, and it
might hurt me; if anything should happen to me here, you can
then please yourself. Take care of them all, as they may
come in handy some day, if only to read to friends near and
dear to us. I must conclude. Thanks for the papers.
Believe me ever, dear Parents,
Your most affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
SUDDEN DEATH.
"Servant of God, well done;
Rest from thy loved employ;
The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master's joy."
The voice at midnight came;
He started up to hear,
A mortal arrow pierced his frame;
He fell, but felt no fear.
Tranquil amidst alarms,
It found him in the field,
A veteran slumbering on his arms,
Beneath his red-cross shield:
His sword was in his hand,
Still warm with recent fight;
Ready that moment, at command,
Through rock and steel to smite.
At midnight came the cry;
"To meet thy God prepare!"
He woke, and caught his Captain's eye;
Then, strong in faith and prayer,
His spirit with a bound,
Burst its encumbering clay;
His tent, at sunrise, on the ground,
A darken'd ruin lay.
The pains of death are past,
Labour and sorrow cease;
And life's long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.
Soldier of Christ! well done;
Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy.
_Montgomery._
We had now some hard hitting almost every day or night. We commenced
gradually to creep up to the doomed city--here a bit and there a bit,
shots being continually exchanged. All the enemy's outworks had to be
seized, and that was no child's play. The taking of their rifle pits was
fearful work. It was all done with the bayonet, in the darkness of
night. For the information of my non-military readers, I will just
explain what rifle pits are. They are holes, large or small, constructed
in various ways, and manned by crack shots, who tormented us
considerably by picking off our artillerymen and the sailors manning our
heavy guns; for if anyone showed his head above the parapets of the
trenches he was almost certain to have a hole made in it. The taking of
these pits was, as I have said, fearful work, and was all done with the
bayonet, no quarter being given or taken. This work is generally
undertaken by volunteers from the various regiments that happen to be in
the trenches at the time. I volunteered to form one of these "nice
little evening parties,"--but I wished to go no more; yet, had I been
ordered, I would have gone, for I had rather die a thousand deaths than
be dishonoured. In a few words I will try and describe the method of
capturing rifle pits. About 100 or 150, sometimes 300 or 400, men would
be formed up at the point nearest to the pits to be assailed, all hands
sometimes taking off their accoutrements; at a sign from the officers
who are going to lead, the men would creep over the top of the trench
and steal up to the enemy on "all four's;" not a word is spoken, but, at
a given signal, in they all go, and, in less time than it takes me to
write this, it is all over--the bayonet has done it's work; the
defenders are all utterly destroyed or taken prisoners, while the pits
are at once turned and made to face the enemy, or are converted into a
trench. Therefore, with this sort of work going on, I think I am
justified in saying that hard knocks were given and taken almost every
night.
As far as the camp was concerned, things began to look much brighter.
Thanks to the kind-hearted friends at home, we now had plenty of good
food, and sickness was on the decrease. We had a few petty annoyances,
such as being compelled to wear socks, and to pipe-clay our belts so as
to make us conspicuous targets for the enemy. As for the fighting, we
had plenty of that, but we managed to get over it, I think, as well as
our forefathers had done. It was "give and take," but we generally
contrived to let the enemy have "excellent interest."
The following letter, giving additional details of the fighting on March
22nd, may be of interest here:--
Camp before Sebastopol,
March 29th, 1855.
My Dear, Dear Parents,
In answer to yours of the 1st inst., I am happy to inform
you that I am quite well, and in good spirits. I wrote you a
long letter on the 24th descriptive of the attack on the
22nd. Truly it was an awful night, and a terrible fight we
had. The attacking force, we find, were all picked men, most
of them sailors. We hear that the Russians have got a new
commander, and that he boasted he would compel us to raise
the siege or drive us all into the sea; and I must say that
they shaped well, for they came on manfully, but that nasty
piece of cold steel stood in the way. I told you in my last
about the death of poor Captain Vicars. I do not believe
that there was a man in the whole Light Division but would
have died to save that noble soldier. When the news flew
that Vicars had fallen it seemed to work upon our men, and
they were wrought up to a state of frenzy; and with all the
enemy's boasting, and with the overwhelming odds against us,
we managed to shift them, and, so to speak, almost pitched
them out of our batteries and trenches with the bayonet; and
I should like to know what sort of a Briton he would be that
would not follow such a man, such a two-fold soldier, as
Captain Vicars. One of the sergeants of the 97th told me
that only a few hours before the attack this exemplary,
noble Christian, was reading and expounding a portion of
God's word to his men, and engaging in prayer with them, and
shortly afterwards we find him calling upon these very men
to follow him to death or to victory. My dear parents, you
must not ask me such questions. I am bound to do my duty. I
will not, if I am cut to pieces, bring disgrace upon
Norfolk, that brought me up. We have only once to die, and
if I am to fall in front of this town, let it be with my
face to the foe. I do not wish to boast, but I think I am
out of their debt. I find the fellow that shot Captain the
Hon. C. Brown was a Russian or Greek priest, and it was the
same man that fired his revolver into our magazine, but a
bayonet thrust stopped his little game, and extinguished his
fanaticism. I must tell you that we all received great
praise, or soft soap, from Lord Raglan. I do not know
exactly the united strength of those who took part in that
fight, but the brunt of the fighting fell upon the 7th Royal
Fusiliers, 34th, 77th, 88th, 90th, and 97th regiments. To
explain the fight would be impossible--it was so dark. We
did not fire much, all was left to the bayonet; but to say
that this or that regiment did more than any other would be
a piece of injustice. We had a handful, and although they
were about ten to one, they found us one too many for them.
Whether it will be called a battle, or what our people are
going to call it, I do not know; this I know, it has been a
grand attempt at ducking us. We hear that the Zouaves fought
like so many tigers, and although the odds were heavy
against them, they routed the enemy off the field. I don't
think I ever told you before, that they are not all
Frenchmen that wear French uniforms. The Zouaves have a
number of English and Irish mixed up with them--wild spirits
that join them on account of the rapid promotion. You must
try and keep your spirits up. I am as happy as the day is
long, that is, when I have enough to eat. We must try and
make the best of a bad job. Nearly one-third of the
Fusiliers are Norfolk men, and I will be bound they will
hold their own, and I can tell you they are not the smallest
men that we have. I must conclude, with love to all. Give my
kind regards to all inquiring friends, and
Believe me as ever, dear Parents,
Your affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
P.S.--Try and keep your spirits up, dear mother. I will come
home some day lop-sided, with honours, that is, if I do not
get my head put under my arm.
T. G.
THE SECOND BOMBARDMENT OF SEBASTOPOL.
On the morning of Easter Monday the camp was shaken by the commencement
of the second bombardment. The French opened fire with some 350 heavy
guns, and our people with about 220 guns and mortars. The enemy returned
the fire with spirit, with some 600 of the heaviest guns and mortars,
exclusive of their shipping. It was something grand, but awful; the
ground seemed to tremble beneath the terrible fire. I was in camp, but
felt compelled to go up to the Victoria Redoubt to have a look at it.
The Russians frequently fired in salvoes, against both us and our
allies. This duel of Artillery went on day after day, but it all ended
in nothing, the enemy's works appearing to be as strong, after all this
expense and loss of life, as before the bombardment commenced. As Sir G.
Brown once said, the longer we looked at the place the uglier it got,
and it would have to be taken in the old way, let the consequences be
what they might; the bayonet must do what shot and shell could not. So
our people set to work to creep up to the prize that for the first time
had baffled all our united fire of Artillery, and try the effect of cold
steel. Every obstacle had to go down in order to enable us to get up to
their works, and during the remainder of April and May we had some
terrible fighting. More rifle pits had to be taken, and the old Light
Division sustained another heavy loss in Colonel Egerton, of the 77th,
who had from the commencement of the Campaign proved himself one of
Britain's truest sons. He fell dead at the taking of rifle pits, that
were afterwards named Egerton's pits; he was one of the biggest men I
ever saw in uniform. The old Pot-hooks (the 77th) fought in a most
dashing manner, and although they had lost their Colonel, their spirits
were not damped, but they went at it with a will as conquerors.
The enemy tried hard that night to re-take the pits, but it was no go;
they were met with a fire that mowed them down by wholesale; they then
got the bayonet. The 77th were backed up by a good strong party of the
33rd, and detachments of almost every regiment of the Light Division.[5]
The fighting was of a most formidable and determined character; but the
pits remained in the hands of the conquerors of Alma, Balaclava, and the
two Inkermanns. It would be impossible for me to describe all the
different combats, but every inch of ground up to the town had to be
dearly purchased by blood.
* * * * *
Nothing particular occurred to note now, except that a steady stream of
men kept joining us, particularly French, and we had now a splendid army
in front of the doomed city. Our men were burning to go at it, and take
it or die in the attempt; but we had some more outworks yet to capture
before we were to be let loose. From the early morning on the 7th of
June, the French were passing through our camp on the way to the
trenches. The Imperial Guards and Zouaves appeared in high spirits, and
our men turned out and cheered them lustily; and when their new chief,
Pelissier, with General Bosquet went by, you would have thought our
people had gone mad. General Bosquet was a great favourite with the
entire army; and Pelissier was known to be a most resolute man. Our men
cheered them heartily, throwing their caps in the air. The fire-eating
Bosquet and his chief seemed to appreciate the reception they got from
the old Light Division. As soon as the cheering had subsided a little,
the two leaders stopped, and Bosquet called out, "Thank you, my
men,"--then, with his hand up, to stop us from shouting--"We shall be at
them before long, shoulder to shoulder, and then, my boys, stick to
them." Our men cheered them until they were hoarse. Some of our officers
turned out to see what was up, but the French had passed on.
CAPTURE OF THE MAMELON AND THE QUARRIES.
We shortly afterwards fell in, and marched into the trenches. We knew
well that there was something to be done, but things were kept very
quiet. We mustered pretty strongly in our old advanced works. The French
went at the Mamelon in a masterly style, column after column, and as
fast as one column melted away, another took its place. We had a
splendid view of it--it was grand--and we could distinctly see one of
the Vivandiers on horseback, moving with the throng, and then dismount.
We cheered them most heartily.
* * * * *
Our turn came at about 5.30 p.m., and away we went at the Quarries with
a dash, the old 7th and 88th leading the van. It was England and Ireland
side by side. The enemy might well look astonished, for our bayonets
were soon in the midst of them. They were routed out of the Quarries;
and our people set to work with pick and shovel as hard as men could
work. But the enemy were no mean foe; they were armed with as good a
weapon as ourselves, and were not going to submit to being shut up in
the town, without giving some hard blows. They came on repeatedly, and
tried to re-take the position from us; but the old Fusiliers and
Connaught Rangers, assisted by detachments of various regiments of the
Second and Light Divisions, on each occasion sent them reeling back. At
times we were hardly pushed, for we had no ammunition left, and had to
do as we had done at Inkermann, viz., pitch stones at them. I am not
altogether certain that some of the 88th did not use their teeth--all is
fair in love and war. Both officers and men fought with desperation. It
was resolved by all of us not to be beaten; but at times we were under
such a fire of grape and musketry that it appeared impossible for
anything to live. As far as I could see, all had made up their minds to
die rather than turn their backs on the foe, and we had that night
leaders who knew how to die but could hardly run. As far as the old 7th
Fusiliers were concerned, we had some splendid officers--Mills, Turner,
Waller, Jones, Fitzclarence, all courageous men, just the right sort to
lead a storming party. Mr. Jones and Waller repeatedly led our men at
the enemy during that sanguinary night. At times all was confusion,
uproar, and smoke. Dust and showers of stones flew like hail. It was hot
work all night, but we meant to win or die. The hurrahs of our fellows
told both friend and foe that our blood was up. If we were short of
ammunition we had plenty of steel; we had a Wolseley with us and others
as good, but nearly all our commanders bit the dust, dead or wounded. I
had the honour of taking a man's name that evening for a most daring
act, viz., bringing a barrel of ammunition on his head across the open
field, under a tremendous fire, throwing it at our feet, exclaiming,
"Here you are, my lads, fire away," and then going back to get another.
I had the pleasure of meeting him afterwards in India, with the cross
upon his noble breast--"Gunner Arthur." But Arthur was not alone; two of
our own men--Private Matthew Hughes and Corporal Gumley did exactly the
same. Hughes, smoking his old clay pipe all the time, exclaimed, "Keep
it up, lads;" "Lend a hand, sir, to distribute these pills," addressing
a young officer. The fighting all night was of a deadly character, but
we had then got the Quarries, and were not going to let the enemy have
them again. As for the Mamelon, it was "ding-dong hard pounding." Five
times the French went at it. The fifth column was blown into the air to
a man, guns, platforms, and all; and then, with maddening shouts, the
gallant sons of France went at the ruins, and, in spite of the barbarous
brutes, took them. The Zouaves followed them up and went right into the
Malakoff, where a great number fell, but it was not the intention to
take or attempt to take that work. Our hands were full, we had all that
we could do to maintain our position; but we found time to give our
heroic Allies three times three, for they richly deserved it. All the
enemy's attempts at re-taking the Quarries were baffled, for some
fourteen times they were hurled back with a terrible slaughter. We were
now under good cover, the pick and shovel having been at it all night.
* * * * *
My letter home at this time was as follows:--
Camp before Sebastopol,
8th June, 1855.
My Dear Parents,
Once more a few lines to inform you that I am, thank God,
still in the land of the living. We have had another regular
go-in in front of this doomed city. The French were passing
through our camp nearly all day yesterday, and we had a good
idea that something was in the wind; they seemed all in
good spirits, and we turned out and cheered them heartily,
and their Chiefs seemed to appreciate it. In the afternoon,
I marched off with a strong party of our regiment; we had
some wild spirits of officers with us, that would lead men
at anything. We soon found out that they had a nice little
job cut out for us--all their outworks had to be taken from
them. We were told off to take the Quarries; we had strong
parties of the Light and 2nd Divisions with us, and about
5.30 p.m. the 7th Royal Fusiliers and the 88th Connaught
Rangers, dashed at them. It was rough hard hitting, for
about half-an-hour. It was a little piece of work well down.
We routed the enemy but we had hard work to hold our own,
for they came on repeatedly with strong columns, and tried
to re-take them from us. The fighting then became desperate,
the bayonet was freely used on both sides, but although the
enemy were three and four to one, they shrank back, and
although their officers tried to lead them on, they could
not be brought to a determined rush. Thank God, I escaped
once more, but it would be impossible for me to tell you
how, only that a merciful God has been watching over me. We
ran short of ammunition, and then we were in a nice mess; we
used stones as we did at Inkermann, and as soon as they came
close enough, we went at them with that ugly piece of cold
steel. We proved them again to be cowardly beggars in the
open field. Oh! I do wish they would let us go in and finish
them off, for with all this dilly-dallying we are daily
losing a number of our best men, and the men that are being
sent out to fill up the gaps are too young for this rough
work, but they are mixed up with the older hands, and they
stick to it well. I must tell you that our Allies, the
French, went at the enemy in a masterly style, column after
column, but I fear their loss has been heavy; as one entire
column of about 2,000 men was blown into the air; we hear
their loss amounts to upwards of 3,000 men. We have taken
three noble positions from them, and I hope you will now
soon hear news that will set the church bells of Old England
ringing again for victory, as after the Alma, Balaclava, and
Inkermann. But, dear parents, who will live to tell the tale
of the fall of this town, only One above knows. But when one
comes to look at it seriously, it's terrible work; many a
poor mother has to mourn a noble boy, that was hale and
hearty yesterday morning. But there, we must not look at it
in that light, or we could never do our duty. I know our
loss must have been heavy, not much short of 800 killed and
wounded. But the Light Division, as at the Alma, has borne
the brunt of it. Camp life at present is very pleasant, we
have now plenty to eat, and as much as we require to drink;
and this I know, if any one wants more fighting than we get,
he is a glutton, for we are often at it from morning until
night, and from night until morning, but no grumbling. We
will try and give Mr. Bull, some of these mornings,
something to talk about. I see by the papers, that the
people at home begin to find out that it's no disgrace to be
a soldier. I hope you will excuse this short note, will
write again if I am spared, in a few days. Trusting this
will find you all enjoying the best of blessings. Good-bye,
dear parents, and God bless you.
I am, your affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
Returning to camp next morning, we were thanked for our conduct by Lord
Raglan, who promised to report all for the information of Her Most
Gracious Majesty. We were heartily greeted by our comrades. Our loss had
been very heavy. In killed and wounded the Mamelon, Quarries, and
Circular Trench had cost the Allies close upon 3,500 officers,
non-commissioned officers, and men, but yet our people were full of
hope; the enemy had lost all their outworks, and every inch of ground
was hotly disputed. The Quarries were afterwards well named "The
Shambles," for we daily up to the 8th September lost a number of men in
them from the cross-fires of the enemy.
We had now some rough work. From the 7th to the 17th June it was one
continual fight. We had a magnificent army around or in front of the
south side of the town, and our men were burning to go and take it, or
die. We had now been some nine months besieging the town, which had for
that time defied the united powers of France, England, and Turkey,
assisted by some 15,000 Sardinians. It is true the latter had nothing to
do with the actual siege, but they took the place of our men or the
French in guarding our communications. One great battle--Alma--had been
fought to get at it, and two others had been fought in order to prevent
the raising of the siege--Balaclava and Inkermann; and the civilized
world were again asking when the last great _coup_ would be made.
SEBASTOPOL AGAIN BOMBARDED.
On Sunday, the 17th June, 1855, the third bombardment of Sebastopol
opened with a terrible crash, and from morning until night they kept it
up as hard as they could load and fire; the very earth seemed to shake
beneath the crash of guns. We all marched into the trenches full of hope
that the grand and final struggle was about to commence. We thought we
had come to the last scene in the great drama. The Old Fusiliers were
told off for the post of honour. We were to lead the way. It was not the
first time we had done it, and from the colonel downwards all seemed in
good spirits; and on that memorable 18th June, the 40th anniversary of
Waterloo, we were to combat side by side with our old enemy, and thus
avenge that historic battle.
ATTACK BY THE ALLIES AND ITS BLOODY REPULSE.
At a given signal away went the French at the Malakoff with a ringing
cheer of _Vive l'Empereur_. It was quite dark, for it was just about 2
a.m. The Malakoff looked like a vast volcano, with a continual stream of
men going at it. At another signal off we went at a rapid pace, with our
Colonel in front, sword in one hand and revolver in the other; they let
us get well out into the open so that we had no cover, and then, reader,
such a fire met us that the whole column seemed to melt away. Still on
we went, staggering beneath the terrible hail. Our Colonel fell dead,
our Adjutant the same, and almost every officer we had with us fell dead
or wounded, but still we pressed on until we were stopped by the
_chevaux-de-frise_, and in front of that our poor fellows lay in piles.
We were there met with a perfect hell of fire, at about fifty yards from
us, of grape, shot, shell, canister, and musketry, and could not return
a shot. Our men could not advance and would not retire, but were trying
to pull down the barrier or _chevaux-de-frise_. We might just as well
have tried to pull down the moon. The "retire" was sounded all over the
field, but the men stood sullen and would not heed it. Our men and those
of other regiments were fast dropping; at last the remnant of the
attacking column retired to the trenches amidst a storm of grape, which
nearly swept away whole companies at a time. The enemy mounted the
parapets of the Redan, and delivered volley after volley into us. They
hoisted a large black flag and defied us to come on. At length, our
Artillery got into play, and literally swept them down, so that they did
not have it all their own way long. Our front trench was nearly 800
yards from the Redan. The cry of "Murder" could be heard on that field,
for the cowardly enemy fired for hours upon our countrymen as they lay
writhing in agony and blood. As some of our officers said, "This will
never do, we will pay them for all this yet!" We would have forgiven
all, had they not brutally shot down poor helpless wounded men.
On the left attack they were a little more fortunate, led on by the
gallant 18th Royal Irish and the 9th, the Norfolk, Regiment. These
regiments let the enemy know what they might expect if we could only get
at close quarters with them. Major-General Eyre addressed them in Irish,
and said that he hoped their deeds that morning would make many a cabin
in Old Ireland ring again. The men of that regiment were wrought up to a
state of madness, and on they went, right into the town, but, as the
other attacks had proved failures, they likewise were compelled to
retire, and lost a great number of men the like of which could not
easily be replaced. The Royal Irish and the 9th were backed up by the
28th, 38th, and 44th Regiments, and as they carried all before them it
was hard lines that they had to fight their way out of the town again.
The Allies had been kept at bay for upwards of eight months--and out of
all that vast army employed only two regiments managed to cut their way
into Sebastopol on that terrible 18th June, and one of them was "the
Holy Boys." Herein is another source of pride for Norfolk.
Major-General Eyre's address had a wonderful effect upon the 18th Royal
Irish, and it was not lost upon the Norfolk regiment. The fighting in
the cemetery was desperate. Not a shot did those two noble regiments
fire, but with a ringing cheer they dashed at the enemy. No powder was
wasted, but the Russians were fairly pitched out of their works. Their
general's appeal had touched them to the quick, and these gallant
regiments seemed to vie with each other in the rapidity of their
movements, and in their deeds of valour. A few prisoners were taken. One
huge Grenadier, profusely bleeding, might have been seen dragging by the
collar of his coat a monster of a Russian. Pat had fought and subdued
his antagonist, and then remembered mercy, exclaiming, "Go it, lads;
there are plenty more of them yonder. Hurrah for ould Ireland!" The
bayonet was used with tremendous effect by these regiments; but the
other attacks had been driven back, or, in other words, mowed down with
a fearful slaughter, and could not close in with the enemy. The French
lay in piles in front of the Malakoff, and the ground beyond our then
front trench was saturated with some of the best blood of Britain. There
lay some hundreds of those who had led the way up the heights of Alma,
side by side with those who had taken a leading part in driving the
Russians from the heights of Inkermann, who had fought with Vicars in
the trenches, and, night after night and day after day, had kept the
enemy at bay. Our gallant Blue Jackets lay in heaps. They had
volunteered to carry the scaling ladders for us, "The Stormers," and I
must pay them a tribute of respect, for they stuck to us well under
great difficulties, carrying heavy ladders, and died almost to a man
rather than let the enemy see their backs. "All honour to the bravest of
the brave." The columns of attack had not been driven back by the weight
of numbers. Nay, they were mowed down with grape, canister, musketry,
and broadside after broadside from the shipping; and, I am sorry to have
to record it, the enemy seemed to take delight in shooting down poor
helpless wounded men, who were trying to limp or drag their mangled
bodies away from the devouring cross-fires. For hours during that
dreadful day they would not answer the flag of truce; but the black
flag, or flag of defiance, was flying upon all their batteries, while
some hundreds, yea, thousands of our poor fellows were lying with every
description of wound, exposed to a burning sun--and here the reader
should remember that the heat in the Crimea in summer is equal to that
of India. There lay, I repeat, poor helpless men weltering in their
blood, with an unnatural enemy actually firing upon them, and laughing
at their calamity--such were the brutes that we had to fight against. At
length the white flag was seen to float upon the Redan, the Malakoff,
and all the other batteries. The enemy placed a strong chain of sentries
all along the front of their works--evidently picked men--and they had
actually had a wash, and some of them a clean shave. All our men that
had fallen in front of the _chevaux-de-frise_ they brought and lay for
us to take away. Reader, this was humiliating to the feelings of a
Briton. They were, moreover, very insulting, and it would not have taken
much, if our officers had not been firm, for our men (some of them at
least) to have dashed their brutal heads half off with "one straight
from the shoulder"; for they had no arms, except the sentries placed in
front of our trenches. Our men were very quiet and sullen, but one
could read "revenge" written on their countenances. As soon as all the
dead and wounded had been removed, the short truce terminated, the white
flags on the different batteries were waved to and fro, and down they
went, but were hardly out of sight when "bang" went the heavy guns at it
again. And our sailors and artillerymen worked them as hard as they
could load and fire, which soon made the frowning Redan, the Malakoff,
and all the enemy's batteries very warm corners; for our huge 13-inch
shell sent guns, platforms, and all that was anywhere near, flying into
the air. So Mr. Russia found to his cost that we were not going to give
the game up just yet.
Well, it must be confessed we had had what might be called a good sound
drubbing, and I can affirm that our people are not good hands at putting
up with much of that; officers and men wanted "to go at it again" and
wipe out the stain or die--but we had to obey orders. We had been
beaten, both French and English combined, and our men could hardly
believe it. In returning to camp that morning, one could not get a civil
answer from any of the men. If you told a man to do anything he would
turn round and tell you to do it yourself. It was almost a miracle how
any of the storming columns escaped. My clothing was cut all to pieces,
I had no fewer than nine shot holes through my trousers, coat, and cap,
but, thank God, I was not touched. Out of my company, which went into
action with 1 captain, 2 lieutenants, 4 sergeants, 4 corporals, 2
drummers, and 90 men, all that came out of it with a whole skin were 13
men besides myself; No. 3 Company returned to camp with 9 men out of 96.
So I hope, reader, you will be able to see we stuck to them well before
we gave in. We were burning to go at them again, but we had to pocket
the defeat and wait our turn. It did not matter to whom I spoke about
that bloody repulse, all were nearly mad. The fault had to be thrown on
some one. I must tell the truth--it was not the fault of the officers
who led, it was not the fault of the men who formed that unlucky column
of stormers. But, reader, we were sold that morning (I am sorry to have
to record it) by traitors from our own ranks! Men (brutes, rather,) had
deserted us because they had been justly punished for misconduct, and
informed the enemy the exact hour and the precise signal for the
advance. I knew one of these rascals, but for the sake of the gallant
regiment to which he belonged I withhold his name. I am happy to state,
however, that he lived to reap a portion of his reward, for he was
transported for life,--treatment too good for such a black-hearted
villain, for he was the cause of some thousands of the bravest of the
brave being launched into eternity. If we could have forced the
_chevaux-de-frise_, the 9th and 18th would not have been the only
regiments of the Allied Army to enter Sebastopol that morning, for we
had some of the right sort of stuff with the Fusiliers. I do not believe
a man of us thought one word about supports. It was simply "do or die"
with that heroic column; but still the fact remains that a handful of
men were sent to be slaughtered without supports. We had rated our enemy
too cheaply; our commanders forgot that we could not get at them with
the queen of weapons, but had to stand and be mowed down from behind
good cover, and with a deep ditch between us!
Our camp presented a very mournful spectacle. Officers, non-commissioned
officers, and men, were being carried home covered with wounds; some
limping along, others besmeared with dirt, powder, and blood, doing
their best to reach the camp, assisted by a comrade. A great number of
"resurrectionists" turned up (men who did not return to camp with their
companies, and were reported killed or missing). These had got so far
in advance that they, poor fellows, could not get back until the flag of
truce was up. So some got into pits, others into large holes made by
shells, and there had to lie. It would have been madness for them to
have attempted to reach our trenches across the open field amidst the
withering fire that the enemy could have brought to bear upon them. We
were only too glad to receive them back. As it was, the poor old
Fusiliers had suffered fearfully; we had paid dearly for leading the
way. And although we had lost our brave Colonel and Adjutant, and almost
all our officers had been hit more or less, still that indomitable pluck
that will carry a Briton through fire and water was not all thrashed out
of us. On all sides one heard such expressions as--"Well, we'll warm
them up for this yet!" The questions asked were "I say, have so-and-so
come back?" "Have you seen ----?" "Has Sergeant ---- come back?" Men
were running about the camp inquiring about particular friends, and as
soon as they found me writing home, I was besieged. "Sergeant, will you
write a line for me, please?" I think I wrote close upon twenty short
notes for our men, some of whom were wounded slightly; others had nasty
cuts and bruises, and wanted to conceal them, thinking that we should
have another go-in before long. Our Allies, the French, seemed
down-hearted, and very low-spirited. They cannot fight a losing battle;
so long as they are victorious they do not appear to care much what they
lose. As far as we were concerned, we knew well that we had lost a
friend--our best friend--in our dear old Colonel. He was as brave as a
lion, and his familiar cry was: "Come on men; follow me." Not
half-an-hour before he fell he was in prayer. He knew that he was going
to lead the way, and that thousands must fall. But, reader, that
gallant soldier was ready for life or death. He could have been seen
walking up and down in the trench, addressing one after another. Some of
his expressions were: "Men, when we advance, move your legs; remember,
not a shot; all must be done with the bayonet." When the order was given
to advance, we all rushed over the trench, the Colonel shouting,
"Fusiliers, follow me, and prove yourselves worthy of your title." I was
close to him. He had ordered a number of active non-commissioned
officers to keep up with him; and, as we bounded across the plain, he
waved his sword and shouted, "Fusiliers, follow me; come on!" Just
before he fell he stopped to have a look around. At this time our poor
fellows were falling one on the top of another; for the batteries in
front, right and left, were like so many volcanoes pouring forth a
never-ceasing stream of fire. Truly it was an awful scene. It did not
last much more than half-an-hour; and my readers may form some idea of
the terrible fire we had to face, for our loss was as follows:--Killed,
wounded, and missing, 7,988 French and British! But
They shall live renown'd in story,
They whose arms, on fields of gore,
Saved our homes and native land
From the rude rough clash of war.
T. G.
Our men had been crushed beneath a terrific fire, but not subdued. We
knew well that a day--a terrible day--of reckoning would come, and
longed to be let loose at them. "Oh, if we could only get them well out
into the open fields," said one old hand, "we'd make short work of
them!" But, no chance of that. They had had several tastes of our
bayonets, and wanted no more; so we had to set to work and hunt them out
of one of the strongest fortifications in the world. Ultimately, the
reader will find that we managed them.
The following was my letter home on this occasion:--
Camp before Sebastopol,
June 18th, 1855 (Waterloo Day.)
My Dear Parents,
How to express my feelings to the God of all mercies I do
not know. I drop a line as quickly as possible, in order to
catch the mail, to let you know that I am still safe and
sound, as I know that long before this can reach home you
will have heard of the slaughter we have sustained.
Slaughter is hardly a name for it--massacre. We have been
cut to pieces in an attempt upon the town. I have not time
to say much, and am too low-spirited. About two o'clock this
morning we attacked the Redan, the 7th Fusiliers leading the
stormers. Our dear old Colonel was killed. He was one of the
bravest of the brave, for where all were brave he would lead
the way. Almost every officer of ours has been either killed
or wounded. I am the only sergeant of my company returned to
camp without being wounded. Oh, what a morning! but through
the mercy of God I have been spared, although my poor
comrades fell in heaps all around me, one on the top of the
other. But truth will go the furthest, the enemy has beaten
both French and English this morning. Our poor fellows could
not get at them, but were mowed down with grape, canister,
and musketry, and broadside after broadside from their
shipping. The sights all around are horrible, men
continually being brought into camp with every description
of wound. I heard one of our old hands say, a short time
ago, although wounded and limping to hospital: 'This is only
lent; we'll pay them off for it yet, and that before long.'
The sole cry in the camp is--'Let's go at them again.' I
hope you will excuse this short letter, as I must be off. I
am for the trenches to-night.
Believe me, yours, &c., &c.,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
P.S.--I was robbed of all I had in this world while out
fighting (except the small _Bible_ you gave me--they would
not have that).
We had not long to wait for our revenge, and revenge is sweet when in
the field. We had received some good strong drafts--not recruits, but
volunteers from various regiments at home--fine, able men, that filled
up the gaps, or went a long way towards it. All stragglers were sent to
their duty. Our Chiefs had found out by some means that we were to be
attacked about the 26th of June, by an overwhelming force; our
batteries, trenches, and all our guns were to be taken from us; and we
were to be put into the sea, or capitulate. Much easier said than done.
However, as we had to go into the sea, we took lessons in swimming--by
way of taking plenty of ammunition with us. Although they had just
thrashed us, we were not going to give up the game for one black eye.
Sir G. Brown tendered his sword to defend the front trench with his
division of ten regiments at his back. That noble old soldier addressed
each brigade, in just a few suitable words, that a tried man like
himself knew well how to deliver. As soon as we were formed up, the
gallant old General was in the midst of us. He had not much bowing or
scraping, but went at once to the point. "Well men, they," pointing in
the direction of the town, "are going to take our trenches and guns from
us to-night. I have offered my sword to defend the leading trench, will
you support me?" Suiting the action to the word, he drew his sword and
waved it over his head. The answer that the brave old man got was a
deafening shout, such a shout as that, a few hours after, struck terror
into the boasting enemy; and we at once marched off to the post of
honour. We had not gone far when another shout told us that we were not
going alone. The 1st brigade of the Light Division consisted of the
1st-7th Royal Fusiliers, 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers, 33rd Duke's own,
34th regiment, and 2nd battalion Rifle Brigade. Our comrades of the 2nd
brigade consisted of the 19th, 90th, 77th, 88th and 97th regiments. The
2nd brigade came close behind us, backed up by the entire 2nd division,
and a part of the Guards and Highlanders.
Into the front trench we went, and, as soon as it got dark enough, a
good chain of sentries was thrown out to give us timely warning of the
enemy's approach. These men had to creep out on their hands and knees
and lie flat on the ground, and as soon as they could see the enemy
advancing, bound back to us and give the alarm; thus, all would be in
readiness for them, although it was as dark as the grave. Everything was
cut and dried, and they might come and try their hands at ducking us if
they were game! We had not very long to wait, for they were game to the
backbone. They opened a terrible shell fire upon all our leading
trenches, both French and English, and we lost many of our men, as we
were rather thickly posted. About 11.30 p.m. our sentries came running
in, with the news that the enemy was advancing in force. We let them
come. Our batteries threw out a number of fire balls, which at once lit
up the whole place as clear as daylight. We, in the leading trench, kept
well down out of the way of our own guns. The enemy came on through a
perfect storm of shot, shell, grape, canister, and rockets; it must have
mowed down their crowded ranks by wholesale, for they were coming on in
massive columns, evidently for a fair trial of strength. All this time
we in the trenches had not fired a shot. At a given signal our guns
ceased, but the mortars still kept it up. Our two front ranks gave them
a deadly point-blank volley, and at once stepped back, for we stood six
deep in the trench waiting for them. The next two ranks then moved up
and gave them another. They were not more than fifty paces from us.
The front ranks of the column went down as grass before a scythe, and
before the enemy had time to collect their wits they got another and
another, which shook them to atoms. To finish them off they got two or
three more volleys, for the rear of the column was pressing the head of
it on. The deadly fire was a little too much for them, and they broke,
hesitating as to which way to go. While they stood bewildered, they
got two or three more volleys, which literally tore them to pieces,
and, to make things a little more uncomfortable for them, the words
"Faugh-a-Ballagh" were shouted somewhere on our left--the gallant 88th
got the credit of it. Translated into English this means, "Clear the
road," or way, and, in less time than it takes me to write it, all
hands sprung over the top of the trench and rushed at them with the
bayonet. We lost a number of men that we should not have lost had we
acted solely on the defensive, for the enemy opened their heavy guns on
friend and foe, in order to try and stop us. We chased them right up to
the Redan, and then returned to our trenches. The next morning there
was a flag of truce out, which was soon answered by our people. We
could then have a good look at our handiwork of the previous night, and
a ghastly sight it was, for hundreds of the enemy were cut to pieces by
shot and shell.
I had seen the fields of the Alma, Balaclava, and Inkermann, and, in
fact, everything of importance since the commencement of the campaign,
but I had never seen anything to equal the sight that presented itself
that morning; the enemy lay in columns as they had stood, or in places
pile upon pile, four or five deep, in every conceivable position that
mind could imagine. The Minie balls had done some fearful work. Into
that part of the trench on our right, manned by the Rifles, Guards, and
Highlanders, the enemy had, in spite of the terrible fire, entered, but
they were there met by the bayonet, and never went back to Holy Russia.
The trench was in places completely choked, the dead lying heaped up
level with the top. Some of our nice boys joked the Guards and
Highlanders next morning about leaving no work for the doctors, and some
of those "feather-bed gentlemen" replied that they liked to do things
well--they had been taught the first point. People may say what they
like about our Guards, but they have proved themselves on many a
hard-fought field very devils, particularly in a close fight.
Again I found opportunity to write to my parents, as follows:--
Camp before Sebastopol,
June 28th, 1855.
My Dear Parents,
Just a few lines to inform you that we have got out of debt.
My letter of the 18th told you of the terrible thrashing
that the enemy gave us that morning. Well, we have met them
again, and paid them off for it; and I think we have proved
that we can hit just as hard as they can. On the 26th, about
11 p.m., they made a general attack all along our
trenches--both French and English. We were ready for them,
as they were for us on the 18th, and have paid them off in
their own coin. It lasted about three-quarters-of-an-hour,
and they have left close upon 4000 upon the field, dead and
wounded; they boasted that they were going to put us into
the sea; I for one, had a strong objection to this, as I
cannot swim. I never before saw our men fight so spitefully.
Volley after volley was poured into their advancing hosts,
and then, with a ringing cheer for old England, we closed
upon them with that weapon they so much dread. Some of our
men's bayonets were bent like reaping-hooks, which was a
clear proof of the work we had been at. Although they beat
us for once, we let them know that the Lion was on the
war-path, and that he was well roused. I think out Allies
got out of debt too, for they stuck to them well; we can
always tell when they are winning, for they do not forget to
shout. Our men are as quiet as a lot of lambs until the
bayonet comes into play, and then it's three British cheers,
and sometimes three times three. The sights all over the
field next morning, (the 27th), were horrible. We had a flag
of truce out for about three hours, to allow the enemy to
take away their dead and wounded, and during that time the
greater portion of the troops that had been engaged returned
to the camp. I got a slight scratch in the forehead, but
nothing of any importance, so I have much to be thankful
for. We did not lose many men, as we were under cover. We
are creeping, bit by bit, up to the town; but the closer we
get, the more bitter the fighting becomes. We have now
plenty to eat and drink; there is all sorts of life in the
camp, and duty is not half so hard as it has been. We have
still the unseen enemy--cholera--with us, but upon the whole
we keep up our spirits remarkably well. Our men appear to
long for the day when we shall be let loose at the
town--bombarding does not seem to have much effect upon
their works--it must be taken with the bayonet, and whenever
the day of reckoning comes, it will be a heavy one.
Reinforcements keep joining us, both French and English,
almost every day; and we have a splendid army, in spite of
our heavy losses, ready at our commander's call to advance
with the flag of old England, and plant it on the proud
walls of this noble fortress, which has put all others in
the shade. Hardly a day passes but more guns and mortars are
being mounted, and what the next bombardment will be I do
not know. I will write as often as I can, but you must
excuse some of my short notes; although I wear a red coat, I
hope there is a warm heart beating beneath it. I must
conclude with love to all, and double allowance for poor
mother.
Believe me ever, dear Parents,
Your affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant,
Royal Fusiliers.
Thus ended all the boasting of the Russians. The flag of truce was up
for two hours, and then had to be renewed, for they had not all their
dead and wounded removed. We acted with them as they did with us on the
18th. A chain of sentries was placed out about 60 yards in front of our
trenches, and all that fell on the inner side of the chain were carried
by our people and laid down for their friends to take away; their men
were very sullen, and their officers sarcastic--inquiring as to when we
were going to take the town. Some of our officers told them we should
awake them some of these fine mornings when they little suspected us;
and our people joked them in return by asking when they were going to
put us into the sea. A number of their officers could speak French, but
few could speak English. The repulse that they had just sustained damped
their spirits considerably; but the moment the white flag was out of
sight, we were at it again.
* * * * *
I had nothing particular to record for a time except trench work, and as
we had plenty of men our duty was not heavy. The enemy continued to
torment us as much as possible; and as we were now creeping closer to
the town, almost every night there was something going on, and daily we
lost a number of men and officers.
DEATH OF LORD RAGLAN.
And now we had something else hanging on our hands; we had _lost our
brave Commander-in-Chief_. The camp was startled on the morning of the
29th June, 1855, by the sorrowful tidings of the death of our
much-beloved Commander-in-Chief, Lord Raglan. Men who had been
accustomed to meet death looked at each other as if they had heard of
the loss of some near relative. We did not know, until he was taken from
us, how deeply we loved him. The army had lost a true friend--a friend
to the combatant ranks. Our beloved country, and our much-beloved
Sovereign, had lost a good, honest, faithful, and devout servant. His
courage knew no bounds, and it was backed up by true Christian piety. He
was a perfect gentleman, and had proved himself a soldier of no mean
sort on many a hard-fought field in Spain, Portugal, France, and the
Netherlands. He had served his country faithfully for upwards of half a
century; and now he had laid down his life in the performance of his
duty to the flag he loved so well. He was lamented by all, both high and
low. The enormous responsibility of that unparalleled siege, together
with the disastrous failure on the morning of the 18th June, broke the
dear old gentleman's heart. But he died as he had lived--a true soldier
in a twofold sense, for he was not at all ashamed of his Great Captain.
We mourned him as our Commander who had repeatedly led us on to
victory. We mourned him also as a Christian who had left a noble example
behind him:--
We mourn for one whose honour'd name will stand
Foremost amid the valiant of our land;
Yet better far, we know to him 'twas given
To be a soldier of his Lord in the land of the living.
We mourn for one that's now at rest
In the bright land of endless bliss.
Raglan, thou art gone! thy country mourns thee!
Thy watchword when on earth was 'forward!'
But now, henceforth and for ever,
Thy watchword will be 'victory!'
All honour to the brave! he has gone to his everlasting home. All honour
to him for his long and meritorious services. His old enemies, the
French, against whom he had so often fought, now nobly stood forth to
pay their respects and to do honour to one whose back they had never
seen, and whom they never could subdue. The removal of the remains of
our late lamented chief, Field-Marshal Lord Raglan, to Kazatch Bay, was
a most imposing sight. The melancholy procession moved off about 3 p.m.
on the 3rd July. All the way from the house in which his lordship had
breathed his last was one continuous blaze of bright uniforms. At the
house was stationed a party of the Grenadier Guards, and the French
Imperial Guards; our Guards, the Zouaves, field batteries, and horse
artillery batteries, with regiments of the line, both French,
English, and Piedmontese, lined the road; the artillery, stationed
at intervals, firing minute guns. The body was escorted by the 12th
Lancers, about four squadrons; a strong party of French Cuirassiers,
about four squadrons; then a party of Piedmontese cavalry, about
four squadrons; troops of French horse artillery; troops of British
horse artillery; and a strong party of French Chasseurs d'Afrique.
Then came the coffin, covered with a black pall and the Union Jack;
General Pelissier, the Commander-in-Chief of the French army; Omar
Pasha, the Commander-in-Chief of the Ottoman army; General Marmora,
the Commander-in-Chief of the Sardinian army; and General Simpson, the
Commander-in-Chief of our army, rode on either side of the body, which
was carried upon one of our horse artillery gun-carriages. Then came
general officers of the British, the French, the Sardinian, and Turkish
armies. Field batteries and horse artillery batteries were formed up
all along the route, and fired minute guns as the solemn procession
passed them. The united bands of various regiments were stationed at
intervals, and played the "Dead March." Every regiment in the Allied
Army was represented by officers, non-commissioned officers, and men.
His remains were not permitted to rest in an enemy's country, but were
carried with all honour down to the water's edge, and duly handed over
to the fleets, to be escorted under the flags of England, France,
Turkey, and Sardinia. His loss to us as an army was great just at that
critical moment. His name and memory were all that was left to animate
us through the difficulties that were yet before us. The town was still
firm, and the enemy's numerous batteries still bade us defiance. But,
we knew that Sebastopol must fall; else what would they say of us in
Old England? Why, that we were not worthy of our forefathers. Let the
reader have patience and he will soon learn how the work was done. The
news will set his ears tingling, but, alas! it has sunk deep into many
a mother's broken heart.
Some of my heroes are low.
I hear the sound of death ahead.
July passed off pretty quietly, but there was something in the wind;
instead of returning to camp to rest, We all had to fall in at tattoo
and march off to some part of the field, pile arms, and lie down. Our
generals were not going to have another Inkermann job on their hands
without being prepared for them. The Russians could see that the town
must fall. It was only a matter of another month or so. The French had a
splendid position in the Mamelon, were daily strengthening it, creeping
and sapping up to the Malakoff; while our people were advancing step by
step. The closer we got to the town the dearer the ground became, the
fighting became more bitter, and we lost more men and officers daily.
Their marksmen were always busy. The enemy were determined to make one
more effort on a grand scale in order to try and save the town, and we
did not know the spot or the hour the storm would burst upon us, so it
was best not to be caught napping. Our batteries were being
strengthened, and more guns and mortars added every day; and an immense
iron girdle was now around the town, or the south side of it.
THE BATTLE OF THE TCHERNAYA.
On the morning of the 16th August, our camp was aroused by a tremendous
firing to our right rear. The enemy had attacked us in the Valley of the
Tchernaya, just to the right of Inkermann. We at once got under arms,
the 2nd Brigade closing up, and there we remained. The firing got hotter
and hotter; Prince Gortschakoff had now a vast host under his command,
and he was making one more grand throw for victory. The fighting was
very severe between the French and Sardinians on the one side, and
Russians on the other. The Sardinians fought like men, and the Zouaves,
as usual, like so many tigers, and the battle raged from morning until
about 5 p.m. The enemy never had the slightest chance of success. I went
on to the field in the evening and had a good look round; I found that
the fighting had been in earnest. On and at the Tractor Bridge the dead
lay in heaps, while the arches over the river were completely choked or
blocked up with Russian dead, the water running on either side of the
bridge. The Russians, as usual, behaved in a most barbarous manner after
the battle. They had been foiled at all points, and were compelled to
retire. A party of French and Sardinians went to look up the wounded;
the Russians could see plainly what the party was doing, yet they opened
their heavy guns upon them! I came across a few French wounded Zouaves,
and did all I could for them.
* * * * *
We were told not to go any further, or the enemy, on the hill to our
left, would open upon us. The words were hardly uttered, when "bang"
came a round shot right in the midst of us, but luckily did no harm; it
only knocked some of their own wounded to pieces. No condemnation could
be too strong for such unfeeling wretches. Their loss had been close
upon 10,000. Such was the terrible battle of the Tchernaya. We had but
little to do with it; some of our Artillery were engaged, and a portion
of our Cavalry were formed up ready for a dash at them, but were not let
loose. Rumours were rife that the Russians would try their luck again at
Inkermann, but they never did; they had already got a good sickening
there. The doomed city had now to take its chance, and I am approaching
the last great scene of the campaign--the storming of the town that had
kept the united armies and fleets of France, England, and Turkey at bay
for nearly twelve months. The attention of the whole world was directed
thither.
* * * * *
I wrote home at this time as follows:--
Camp before Sebastopol,
August 18th, 1855.
My Dear Parents,
Long before this can reach you, you will have learnt by the
papers the results of the terrible battle of the 16th. In
the Valley of the Tchernaya the enemy made a most determined
attempt for victory, but the Allies met them at all points,
and drove them back with terrific slaughter. I find that the
Sardinians fought with desperation, well supported by the
French, and backed up by some of our people. The attacking
force has been estimated at from 60,000 to 70,000 men of all
arms, and 160 guns. The fight lasted all day, and the
struggle in various parts of the field has been severe; in
fact it has been, on the part of the Russian commander, a
grand throw for victory, to try and raise the siege; but as
an officer, who saw the whole, told me this morning, they
from 9 a.m. had not the slightest chance, that their defeat
was inevitable, and that a crushing one. Our cavalry were
formed up ready for them, under General Scarlett, but did
not go at them; we were under arms all day, or nearly so,
but did not advance. The enemy's loss has been fearful in
killed, wounded, and prisoners. I saw some of them, they are
fine-looking men, but very dirty; I hear the prisoners
amount to about 3,600, exclusive of officers, that is,
including wounded and unwounded. The field presents a
horrible spectacle; a few of us went down to have a look at
it, and it was not the enemy's fault that some of us did not
stop there, for they pitched shot and threw shell right in
the midst of us; we were doing all we could to relieve the
poor wounded, both friend and foe. The sights all over the
field were sickening, and I hope never to see the like
again; there lay the ghastly fruits of war, in some places
heaps upon heaps; the sight at the Tractor Bridge I shall
not forget as long as I live; we spent some two hours on the
field, did all we could to relieve the poor wounded, then
walked home to camp. I have got two Russian medals I found
upon the dead. I found that our friends, the Zouaves, had in
some parts of the field handled the enemy very roughly, they
had crossed bayonets with them, and they lay locked in each
other's arms dead. I do not think Prince Gortschakoff, with
all his boasting, will try his hand against us in the open
field, for some time to come; the enemy have not got enough
go in them, except they are half maddened with rackie, to
face us manfully. What the enemy have lost we do not know
exactly, but not much under 10,000 or 12,000, and the result
has slightly damped their spirits. Our loss, that is, the
French and Sardinians is acknowledged by them to be between
2,000 and 3,000 men, but I believe it must be much more, by
the aspect of the field. I believe you will now soon hear
something that will set your ears tingling; this town cannot
hold out much longer, and we are all ready at our
commander's call to advance shoulder to shoulder with our
gallant Allies, and plant our glorious old Standard by the
side of the Red, White, and Blue, on the blood-stained
walls of this famed fortress. Trusting this will find you
all well, pray for me, and
Believe me, my Dear Parents,
Ever your affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
P.S.--Thanks for the papers. I see that the eyes of the
whole of Europe are upon us; we will give them something to
talk about some of these fine mornings, but who will live to
tell the tale, only One above knows. Try and keep up your
spirits, all's well that ends well.--T.G.
RUSSIAN ATTACK IN THE TRENCHES.
On the evening of the 30th August, I went into the trenches with a party
(and a good strong party it was) of our men--about 200, and a proportion
of non-commissioned officers. We were under the command of the late Sir
W. W. Turner, then Captain and Brevet-Major. The second in command was
Captain Lord Richard Brown. We had, therefore, some capital officers
with us, and men will go anywhere with officers upon whom they can rely.
We had a good sprinkling of the right sort of stuff with us, _old
soldiers_, or men that had been well tried upon field after field--from
the Alma--and we had a few that had smelt powder on many a
hard-contested field in India, such as Ferozeshah, Moodkee, Sobraon, and
Goojerat--men that well knew how to do their duty, and were no strangers
to a musket-ball whistling past their heads, who understood well a live
shell in the air, and knew within a little where it was going to drop.
One feels much more comfortable with such men than with three times
their number who have never smelt powder. The honour of our glorious
little isle has been safe in the hands of such men upon many a field.
Well, we marched off smoking, as comfortably as if we were going to a
pic-nic or garden party, as we had often done before. The only thing
that seemed to trouble some was, "Where's the grog party?" As for the
enemy, we knew well that we should most likely make their acquaintance
before morning. We found that we were told off, with detachments of the
19th, 23rd, 33rd, 34th, 88th, and 97th, to hold the fourth parallel.
There was another trench in front of us, full of men from various
regiments. The firing was very heavy all night, or up to about 2 a.m.,
when all at once the word was given "Stand to! look out!" The enemy with
an overwhelming force had attacked our front trench, and had either
destroyed or routed our people out of it with the bayonet. I must say
that the greater portion of the men in this front trench were recruits,
men who had not learnt how to die, but who knew how to run. So much for
placing the honour of our flag in the hands of a lot of boys, without
mixing them with a good sprinkling of seasoned men. As soon as our poor
frightened lads came rushing over the top of our trench our front was
clear. Then the 19th, 88th, and 97th, let out an unearthly yell of
"_Faugh-a-Ballagh_," and at them we went. Not a shot was fired, but the
"piece of cold steel" came into play. The enemy fought well; but in the
end, with a tremendous cheer for Old England, and another for Ould
Ireland, they were fairly pitchforked out of the trench; the open space
between that and our front trench, or fifth parallel, being in places
well covered with the dead and dying. Captain Vicars had now been dead
upwards of five long months, which, under the trying scenes we had
passed through, seemed a lifetime. But the 97th had not forgotten that
Christian hero, for, above all the din of war and the booming of heavy
guns, they could be distinctly heard shouting, "Remember Vicars, boys;"
and men could be heard responding with "Yea, boys; give it them." The
enemy was chased back into the town, with a fearful slaughter, by
comparatively a handful of Britons. Our loss was trifling, taking into
consideration how we had punished the enemy. They went back much
quicker than they had advanced, with their spirits slightly damped. Even
before they reached the Russian works, their heavy guns opened with
grape, thus killing and wounding a number of their own men; for the fire
had to pass through their ranks before it reached us. We were not such
fools as to stand still and let them mow us down; but, not being able to
get at their guns, we got back as quickly as we could under cover. Next
morning we found the dead lying in ghastly piles--friend and foe mixed
together--but our people were a long way in the minority, as the greater
portion of the enemy had got the bayonet in the back. We had a flag of
truce out to bury the dead, and after that the enemy's fire was
terrible. We lost a number of men; but our sailors, manning our heavy
guns, did not let them have it all their own way, and we had some rough
music nearly all the day. We knew the town could not hold out much
longer. It must have been something like a hell upon earth, each side
trying which could pound the longest or hit the hardest. Everything
around us indicated that the grand _finale_ was fast approaching. All
our batteries now assumed an awful magnitude. New batteries, both for
guns and mortars of the largest calibre, had sprung into existence all
around the south side of the doomed city since the last bombardment, and
everything now indicated that one of the bloodiest struggles that ever
men undertook was about to ensue. We had been pummelling at each other
for near twelve long months; but we all knew that many a fine fellow
then in camp, in all the pride of manhood, would not, in all
probability, see the first anniversary of the Alma. We who had been
present at the former bombardments knew well, by the preparations, that
the coming struggle would eclipse them all; and, with the number and
size of the armaments opposed to each other, it would be the most
terrible the world had ever seen since powder had been invented; for,
in addition to all our vast batteries, our magnificent and united fleets
were prepared to join in with us. Our men did not put themselves out in
the least; they knew well the end must come. No man out of camp could
hardly credit the amount of life and activity that existed there. Some
regiments even got up theatrical performances, and some of the actors, a
few hours after, were pounding away at the enemy as hard as they could
load and fire; and, as the reader may be certain, our Jack Tars were
well to the fore wherever there was any sport going on.
THE FINAL BOMBARDMENT OF SEBASTOPOL.
On the morning of the 5th September, 1855, the last bombardment opened
with a terrific shock; close upon 1,500 guns and mortars were now
blazing away at each other, the earth trembling the while--and so it
continued all day. I went into the trenches on the night of the
6th--right into the front trench--and a warm corner it was. I remained
there all night. Next morning we were ordered to remove to one of our
rear trenches, where we had good cover, and, in spite of the tremendous
firing, lay down and had a good sleep for two or three hours. We had a
very narrow escape from a huge shell that came hopping right into the
midst of us; we had just time to throw ourselves down, when it exploded,
and sent our breakfast flying in all directions. One of our officers
inquired if anyone was hurt, and a nice boy of ours answered that he
was, "for, by dad, he had nothing to eat." Reader, try and imagine, if
you can, some hundreds of guns and mortars firing in salvoes. For a time
the guns would stop, to allow them to get a little cool; then they would
burst forth again, the thunder being enough to shake the very earth to
its centre; and this lasted for hours. We were completely enveloped in
flames, and covered with smoke, dust, and stones. An old adage says
"Familiarity breeds contempt." That it is true I can bear witness, for a
number of our men were in groups playing cards in the midst of the
firing, our own shot flying close above their heads. Thus far I had
witnessed five bombardments, but this was frightful. Some of our old
hands said it was too good to last long. The Russian fire was very
heavy; they had yet more guns in position than we, and made some of our
batteries rather hot corners, while we came in for a fair share of
shell, so that death was raining fast around. But during all that
terrible day I never heard a desponding voice. We knew well we were in
for it, and speculation ran high as to whether we should attack that
night, but some thought that the bombardment would continue for two or
three days more. We remained under this awful fire all day, and just as
we were on the tiptoe of expectation, looking out for our relief, an
officer belonging to the staff came up and got into talk with me in
reference to our strength, and when I had told him I was directed to
furnish 100 men to repair the Quarry Battery. I was left in temporary
charge, as my officers had gone off on some duty. Shortly after, I was
directed to take the remainder of my party to the leading trench, and
remain there for orders. I then began to smell a rat; something was in
the wind, although everything was kept very quiet. In walking through
the trenches one might notice a change in the men's faces. Savage they
looked, but determined to do or die. We had now a great many very young
men with us that had been sent out to fill up the gaps. They were brave
enough for almost anything, but we had a job in front of us that was
enough to shake the strongest nerves, and we wanted the men that had
been sacrificed during the winter for want of management--they would
have done it as neatly as they had turned the Russians back at the Alma
and Inkermann. The work that was about to be carried out was a heavy
piece of business, and required at least 20,000 men who had been well
tried. We had them, but they were not let loose; had they been let go,
we should have had a star for Sebastopol, and should have had an equal
share of the glory--that's if there is any in it--as we had up to then
had, with our noble Allies.
Well, to the front trench I went with my men; it was about 200 yards
from the Redan. I had not been there long, when an officer came up and
wanted one officer, one sergeant, and thirty men, to go to the front as
scouts or sentries; I told him my strength, I had no officer. He at once
went and got sufficient men from the 31st Regiment, then came back and
had a long chat with me until it got quite dark, which is what we were
waiting for. He found out that I well knew the ground, and was no
stranger to the work. I requested that the men we were going to take
should be all picked men and not lads, as it was rather an important
piece of business. We had to creep on hands and knees nearly up to the
Redan, and it required men with all their wits about them; so a number
of the men were changed, and I would have staked my life that 10,000
such as I then got would have hoisted the glorious old Standard on the
blood-stained walls of Sebastopol, and then stood beside it triumphant.
Well, to my story, which is an awkward one. We crept over the top of the
trench in the dark, and cautiously advanced about eighty yards, then
commenced throwing or planting sentinels at about five or six yards
apart; we had done the job, the officer lay down beside me and gave me
further orders, and then crept back to the trench, leaving me in
command. My orders were not to attempt to hold my ground should the
enemy attack me, but to retire and give the alarm. After lying for some
time we were attacked by an overwhelming force and retired. The enemy
tried to cut us off and take us prisoners, but they found it was no easy
matter.[6] But, to make things worse, during our absence from the trench
it had been filled with men of various Regiments; and, not knowing there
was any one in front but the enemy, they opened a regular file fire, and
we were in a pretty mess between two fires; our poor fellows dropped
fast--some of them were shot dead, close to the trench, by our own
people. We called as loudly as possible to cease firing, but with the
noise they could not hear us. On collecting my party afterwards in the
trench, I had to take all their names, as most of them were strangers to
me, and found that we had lost nineteen men and two corporals out of
thirty. Yet it lasted only two or three minutes. The General Officer
inquired what regiment I belonged to, and, when I had told him, he
expressed surprise, told me I had no business there, but ought to be in
camp and at rest, as there was some sharp work cut out for the Fusiliers
in the morning. That was the very first hint I got of the storming of
the town. The General Officer directed me to go with an officer and
another party, as I knew the ground, and show the officer where to place
his men; I went again, posted all sentries and then returned to the
trench, in doing which I stumbled across a poor fellow lying wounded and
brought him in the best way I could. The men in the trench were this
time told that there was a party in front; had that been done before the
greater portion of my men would not have died, as they were nearly all
shot by our own people. These are some of the "blunders" of war. On
returning to the trench the second time I reported myself to the General
Commanding, and he directed me to take my party home to camp at once. I
reached the camp about 1·30 a.m., and afterwards found that, true
enough, there was a warm job cut out for us. We had led the way
repeatedly--at the Alma, at the Quarries, and at the Redan on the
murderous 18th June, and now we were told off to support the stormers,
moving immediately behind them. I knew well that thousands must die--and
a still small voice told me that I should fall. I know I tried to pray,
begged the Lord to forgive my sins for His great name's sake, and asked
for His protecting arm around me, and strength of mind and body to do my
duty to my Queen and Country. I then retired for a little rest, until
about 5 a.m., when our men were up, and then no more sleep. I wrote a
number of letters that morning for poor fellows--some of whom were laid
low before mid-day, and others struck down maimed, some to rise no more,
long before sunset.
* * * * *
The following, though it was never forwarded, was written at this time,
in anticipation that I should fall:--
Camp before Sebastopol,
2 a.m., 8th September, 1855.
My Dear Parents,
I feel that I must drop you a few lines. I came off the
trenches at one o'clock this morning, to find that this
town, which has given us so much trouble, and has already
cost more lives than all the inhabitants of Norwich and its
surroundings put together, is to be stormed to-day; long
before this reaches you, or before the ink that I now use is
hardly dry, hundreds, perhaps thousands, will have been
launched into eternity. I feel it is an awful moment. I have
repeatedly, during the last twelve months, been surrounded
by death, and since the Alma have not known, honestly
speaking, what fear is, as far as the enemy is concerned.
But, dear parents, this is a solemn moment; thousands must
fall--and we are told off to be in the thick of the fight. I
feel confident that God's arm is not shortened, and into His
protecting care I commit myself. I must be candid, there is
a still small voice that tells me I shall fall, and if I
do, I hope to meet you in a better world than this, where
the nations shall learn war no more. I do not feel that I
can say much, but let come what will, I am determined to try
and do my duty for my Queen and Country. I am glad in one
sense that this hour has come; we have looked for it for
months, and long before the sun sets that is now rising,
Sebastopol must be in our hands. I will now say good bye,
dear and best of mothers; good bye, kind father; good bye,
affectionate brothers and sisters. This letter will not be
sent unless I fall; I have given it open into the hands of
one of our sergeants who is in hospital wounded, and if I
fall he has kindly offered to put a postscript to it and
forward it. May the God of all grace bless you, dear
parents, and help you to bear the pending blow.
Believe me, ever
Your affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
As I did not return to camp after the action, the comrade to whom I
entrusted the letter added this postscript:--
P.S.--Dear Sir--I am truly sorry to have to conclude this
kind letter: your noble son fell inside the Redan
(Sebastopol is taken). Your son, from the day he joined the
regiment, proved himself a credit to us, and a most
determined soldier. I have every reason to believe that he
is now where you would not wish to have him back from; a
nobler death he could not have met with than that in the
hour of victory. I know, Dear Sir, it is hard for you to
lose such a noble boy, but I hope the Lord will give you
strength to bear up under this trying blow.
I am, Dear Sir,
Your faithfully,
J. HOLMES,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
I was brought into camp in time to prevent the foregoing being
despatched, and after my recovery added the following, which will
explain itself:--
Camp before Ruins of Sebastopol,
March, 1856.
My Dear Parents,
You see that I have, thank God, been spared to see what they
had to say about me after I was supposed to be dead. It is
true that I fell inside the Redan, and was totally
unconscious for some time, but, thank God, though wounded
heavily, am still where mercy is to be shown. I was carried
home to camp and to the hospital just in time to save the
above being posted, but I will keep it as long as I live,
and if I live to come home will bring it with me, for truly
I have had a merciful God watching over me, and am spared, I
hope, for some good purpose, for this wonderful God of our's
can see from the beginning to the end, He is the same
unchanging God that the Patriarchs trusted in. There is talk
of peace, and those who want to continue the war will, I
hope, come out and show us the way, as General Windham did
on the 8th September last; they would most likely soon give
in. I am not one of those who would have peace at any price,
but if I am allowed to express my opinion, I think our ends
have been gained. The Russians have been considerably
humbled. We have beaten them four times in four pitched
battles, have rent one of the strongest fortresses in the
world from them, and I think they have had enough of France
and England. If I am spared to come home I will bring this
with me, as its contents might be too much for poor mother
to bear.
From your rough but affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
* * * * *
Britain, the queen of isles, our fair possession,
Secured by nature, laughs at foreign force;
Her ships her bulwark, and the sea her dike,
Sees plenty in her lap, and braves the world.
_Havard._
* * * * *
Island of bliss! amid the subject seas
That thunder round thy rocky coast, set up,
At once the wonder, terror, and delight
Of distant nations: Whose remotest shores
Can soon be shaken by the naval arm;
Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults
Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs, the loud sea wave.
_Thomson._
CHAPTER V.
The Storming of the Town--A Description of the
Assault--Capture of the Malakoff and Redan--Am left on the
Field Wounded--Our Loss, the French Loss, and the Enemy's
Loss--The Spoil--The Aspect of the Interior of the Town
after the Siege--Napoleon's Opinion as to the Source of
England's Strength--Letter of 14th Sept., 1855.
SEBASTOPOL STORMED.
We fell in at 9 a.m.; a dram of rum was issued to each man as he stood
in the ranks; all hands had previously been served with two days'
rations. There were in our ranks a great number of very young men, who
had not much idea of the terrible work that lay before them; but there
were others who knew only too well, having helped to unfurl the Standard
of Old England, in conjunction with that of France, on the Heights of
Alma, the 20th September, 1854; who had routed the enemy on the heights
of Inkermann, and had had near twelve months' hard wrestling with the
foe--and no mean foe either; men who had proved themselves on many a
hard-fought field worthy the name of Britons, for neither the storms of
autumn, nor the snows of winter, nor the heat of a July sun, neither the
sword nor bayonet, nor the musketry fire could subdue them. Although
backed by a countless host, the Russians could not withstand "the
astonishing infantry,"--which had not degenerated from their
forefathers, who had stormed the bloody parapets of Badajoz,
San-Sebastian, and Ciudad Rodrigo, and England might well be proud of
them; and I can say it was a pleasure to look upon and attend to the
wants of such cool, determined men.
Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noble Briton,
Whose blood is fetch'd from fathers of war-proof.
_Shakespeare._
We were about to face the enemy in deadly conflict once more. The
defence of Sebastopol had raised the Russians in the estimation of the
bravest of the brave, and their Sovereign and country had no reason to
regret entrusting that defence to their hands.
Before I proceed to describe the assault, I would point out that
Sebastopol had for the first time in military history, since powder had
been invented, defied the united fire of some 900 guns of the largest
calibre, exclusive of mortars, which had been directed on the devoted
city from early morning of the 5th September. When the final bombardment
opened, the very earth trembled beneath the terrible crash. It was
grand, but awful. But after it the enemy's batteries looked as strong as
ever. We might apparently have gone on bombarding until now. The Redan
and Malakoff appeared to be much stronger than when we first looked at
them, although no fewer than 1,600,000 shot and shell had been hurled at
them. I say again, the Russian nation might well be proud of the manner
their army had defended that fortress. At last cold steel had to do what
artillery had been baffled at. If my readers are at all acquainted with
military history, they will know that large breaches have invariably
been made by artillery fire in the enemy's fortifications before ever
the "dogs of war" were let loose at them. But no breach was made in the
fortifications of Sebastopol.
After remaining for a short time under arms, we marched off about 9·30
a.m. There was no pomp or martial music, no boasting; but all in that
mighty throng moved with solemn tread to the places that had been
assigned them; all, both old and young, seemed to be determined "to
conquer or die." The older hands were very quiet, but they had that set
look of determination about them that speaks volumes.
The bombardment was still raging on that terrible 8th September; every
gun and mortar that our people and our noble Allies, the French, could
bring to bear upon the enemy's works, was raining death and destruction
upon them. The stormers had all got into their places--they consisted of
about 1,000 men of the old Light and 2nd Division; the supports were
formed up as closely as possible to them, and all appeared in readiness.
History may well say the storming of a fortress is an awful task. There
we stood, not a word being spoken; every one seemed to be full of
thought; many a courageous heart, that was destined to be still in death
in one short hour, was now beating high.
It was about 11·15 a.m., and our heavy guns were firing in such a way as
I had never before heard. The batteries fired in volleys or salvoes as
hard as they could load and fire, the balls passing a few feet above our
heads, while the air seemed full of shell. The enemy were not idle; for
round shot, shell, grape, and musket-balls, were bounding and whizzing
all about us, and earth and stones were rattling about our heads like
hail. Our poor fellows fell fast, but still our sailors and artillerymen
stuck to it manfully. We knew well that this could not last long, but
many a poor fellow's career was cut short long before we advanced to the
attack. The reader will, perhaps, hardly credit that a number of the
older hands--both officers and men--were smoking, and taking not the
slightest notice of the "dance of death." Some men were being carried
past dead, and others limping to the rear with mangled limbs, while
their life's blood was streaming fast away. We lost, as I have said, a
number of officers and men before we advanced. We looked at each other
with amazement, for we were now (about 11·30 a.m.) under such a fire as
was without parallel in the history of the world. Even Leipsic (where
the Allies alone had 1400 field guns, and the French 1000) was eclipsed.
Upwards of 100,000 dead and wounded lay upon that field, but the contest
lasted three days and nights. The people at home were complaining
because we did not take Sebastopol! A number of visitors--ladies and
gentlemen from England--now saw that we were trying to do our duty. The
appalling and incessant roar of the thunderbolts of war was deafening,
and our enemies were bidding us defiance, or, in other words, inviting
us to the combat; and I have not the slightest hesitation in saying that
some of our visitors, who came out to find fault, or "pick holes in our
coats," were horrified, and wished they had stayed at home. It was a
warm reception for a number of lads that had just joined us; it really
seemed a pity to send them out to meet such a fire.
As the hour of twelve drew near, all hands were on the alert; we knew
well it was death for many of us. Several who had gone through the whole
campaign shook hands, saying, "This is hot; good bye, old boy." "Write
to the old folks for me if I do not return," was the request made by
many.
[Illustration: THE FRENCH ATTACK ON THE MALAKOFF.]
At about fifteen minutes before twelve a number of our guns were brought
to bear upon the _chevaux-de-frise_, and sent it into a thousand pieces;
so that it should not stop us, as it had done on the 18th June. Many of
us cherished doubts as to the result, although we dared not express
them. Our numbers looked very small to attack such a place as the Redan,
and the greater portion of the attacking and supporting columns too
young and inexperienced for such a fiery ordeal. But, as one old hand
said, "We can only die!" I know that I appealed to the Throne of
Grace for strength of mind and body to do my duty to Queen and Country,
and for the help of His protecting arm, which I knew well was not
shortened.
DEMAND FOR COURAGE.
Thy life's a warfare, thou a soldier art,
Satan's thy foeman, and a faithful heart
Thy two-edg'd weapon; patience is thy shield,
Heaven is thy chieftain, and the world thy field;
To be afraid to die, or wish for death,
Are words and passions of despairing breath.
Who doth the first, the day doth faintly yield;
And who the second, basely flies the field.
_Quarles._
Nothing is more trying than to have to stand under a dropping fire of
shell, and not be able to return a shot. The enemy had the range of our
trenches to a nicety, and could drop their shells into them just as they
liked. We lost a number of men, before we advanced to the attack, by
this vertical fire. But the grand struggle was now close at hand, when
the Muscovites' greatest stronghold was to be torn from their grasp.
CAPTURE OF THE MALAKOFF.
I was close to one of our generals, who stood watch in hand,[7] when,
suddenly, at 12 o'clock, the French drums and bugles sounded the charge,
and, with a shout of _Vive l'Empereur_, repeated over and over again by
some 50,000 men--a shout that was enough to strike terror into the
enemy--the French sprang forward, headed by the Zouaves, at the
Malakoff, like a lot of cats. On they went like a swarm of bees, or
rather, like the dashing of the waves of the sea against a rock. We in
our old advanced works had a splendid view--it was grand but terrible;
the deafening shouts of the advancing hosts told us they were carrying
all before them. They were now completely enveloped in smoke and fire,
but column after column kept advancing, pouring volley after volley into
the breasts of the defenders. They, the French, meant to have it, let
the butcher's bill be what it might. At about a quarter-past 12, up went
the proud flag of France, with a shout that drowned for a time the roar
of both cannon and musketry.
CAPTURE OF THE REDAN.
And now came our turn; we had waited for months for it, and at times
almost longed for it. But it was a trying hour. As soon as the French
flag was seen upon the Malakoff, our stormers sprang forward, led by
Col. Windham; the old Light Division leading, consisting of 300 men of
the 90th, about the same number of the 97th, and about 400 of the 2nd
Batt. Rifle Brigade; and with various detachments of the 2nd and Light
Division, and a number of Blue Jackets, carrying scaling ladders. Our
men advanced splendidly, with a ringing British cheer, although the
enemy poured a terrible fire of grape, canister, and musketry into them,
which swept down whole companies at a time. We, the supports, moved
forward to back up our comrades, but anyone with "half an eye" could see
that we had not the same cool, resolute men, as at Alma and Inkermann;
though some of the older hands were determined to make the best of a bad
job; and I am happy to record that the old Inkermann men took it very
coolly; some of them lit their pipes, I did the same. A brave young
officer of ours, a Mr. Colt, told me he would give all he was worth to
be able to take it as comfortably as some of our people did--it was his
first time under fire--he was as pale as death and shaking from head to
foot, yet he bravely faced the foe. The poor boy (for he was not much
more) requested me not leave him; and he fell dead by my side, just
outside the Redan.
COURAGE DEFINED.
The brave man is not he who feels no fear,
For that were stupid and irrational;
But he whose noble soul its fear subdues
And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.
As for your youth whom blood and blows delight,
Away with them; there is not in their crew
One valiant spirit.
_Joanna Baillie._
Our people were now at it in front; we advanced as quickly as we could,
until we came to the foremost trench, when we leaped the parapet, then
made a rush at the blood-stained walls of the Redan--we had a clear run
of over 200 yards, under a murderous fire of grape, canister, and
musketry. However any one ever lived to pass that 200 yards seemed a
miracle, for our poor fellows fell one on the top of the other; but
nothing but death could stop us. The musket balls whistled by us more
like hail than anything else I can describe, and the grape shot cut our
poor fellows to pieces; for we had a front and two cross fires to meet.
It seemed to me that we were rushing into the very jaws of death, but I
for one reached the Redan without a scratch. While standing on the brink
of the ditch, I considered for a moment how best to get into it, for it
appeared to be about twenty feet deep, with no end of our poor fellows
at the bottom, dead and dying, with their bayonets sticking up; but the
mystery solved itself, our men came rushing on with a cheer for Old
England, and in we went, neck or nothing, scrambled up the other side
the best way we could, and into the redoubt we went with a shout truly
English. The fighting inside the works was desperate--butt and bayonet,
foot and fist; the enemy's guns were at once spiked; some of the older
hands did their best to get together sufficient men for one charge at
the enemy, for we had often proved that they were no lovers of cold
steel, but our poor fellows melted away almost as fast as they scaled
those bloody parapets, from a cross-fire the enemy brought to bear upon
us from the rear of that work. The moss of that field grew red with
British blood.
The struggle at the Redan lasted about an hour-and-a-half, and the
reader may form some idea of the fighting from our loss, which was as
follows:--Killed and wounded of all ranks, 2,472, and 176 missing.[8]
The mistake that our generals made was in not sending sufficient men.
Twenty thousand men ought to have been let loose; we should not then
have lost anything like the number we did, as very many officers and men
were killed when retiring; but we had handled the enemy so roughly that
they did not further attempt to molest us. The French officers and men
were in ecstacies of admiration at the doings of our people at the
Redan, and exclaimed, "English, you have covered yourselves with glory
this day!" And I now fearlessly assert that the handful of men who
undertook that blood-stained work earned a rich wreath of laurels that
day. Yet we were but a handful when compared with the vast hordes of the
enemy.[9] But with all their strength they hesitated about coming to
close quarters. Had we had even ten thousand men with us, the Russians
would have gone into the harbour at the point of the bayonet, or else
been made to lay down their arms. But no; men were sent up in driblets,
to be slaughtered in detail! The few hundreds who did enter that
blood-stained fortification fought with butt end and bayonet, and not
many returned without securing some token in the shape of wounds more or
less severe. Still the few who did meet the enemy taught them to respect
us, for they no more dared to follow us than they would a troop of
lions. We had not been beaten, though we were crushed by cross-fires and
heavy masses of men; yet all the time our trenches were crowded with men
eager to be let loose at the enemy! We had a Wolseley with us, it is
true, but he was only in a subordinate position. We wanted such a man as
he, or Sir Colin Campbell, or a Roberts, and we should have carried all
before us. Then, in all probability, we should have had a star, but not
without some hard work for it. As it was, we got no star, though we had
for twelve long dreary months to be continually fighting--and the
fighting was such as would almost make the much-vaunted heroes of
Tel-el-Kebir blush: not that I wish to rob them of the honours that a
grateful country has bestowed upon them.
THE FALL OF SEBASTOPOL.
The night of the 8th September, 1855, is one long to be remembered. Our
camp was startled by a series of terrible explosions, and we could not
make out what was up, but at length discovered that the enemy were
retiring under cover of the blowing up of their vast forts and
magazines. Oh! what a night! It baffles all description. Many of our
poor fellows were then lying on the ground, having been wounded in all
sorts of ways, with the burning fortress all around them! The Redan was
blown up, and a number of our men went up with it, or were buried alive!
Reader, try and imagine the position of the wounded lying just outside
the Redan. The renowned Redan Massey was there weltering in his blood,
together with a number of others, while hundreds of tons of powder was
exploding within 300 yards of them! Those of the wounded who managed to
reach the camp were well looked after; our doctors worked incessantly,
they threw their whole heart and soul into it, and all appeared to do
their best. Men were continually being brought home to camp with every
description of wounds. I myself was carried thither, having received
five wounds in different parts of the body, my left hand shattered, and
two nasty wounds in the head. I was totally unconscious when taken out
of the Redan, and for some hours afterwards. At about 6 p.m., I found
myself in our front trench, with a dead 33rd man lying across me; I got
him off the best way I could, and then tried to get up, but found that I
could not stand, for I had almost bled to death. Dr. Hale, V.C., did all
he could for me; I then had to remain and take my chance or turn of
being carried to camp, where I arrived about 7·30 p.m., when my wounds
were dressed, and a good cup of beef tea revived me; there I had to
remain for upwards of three months, but, with careful attendance, and a
good, strong constitution, I was, by that time, ready for them
again.[10]
THE TALE OF KILLED, WOUNDED, AND MISSING.
Our loss had been very heavy, but that of our noble Allies was fearful
on that terrible 8th September. They acknowledged the following
figures:--Killed, 5 generals, 24 field officers, 124 subalterns of
various ranks, 2,898 non-commissioned officers and men; wounded, 10
generals, 26 field officers, 8 missing, 229 subaltern officers, 4,289
non-commissioned officers and men, and upwards of 1000 missing; the
total killed, wounded, and missing, or the finishing stroke of the
butcher's bill, was, as regards the French, 8,613. Our loss in the
different ranks was as follows:--Killed--officers 29, 1 missing;
non-commissioned officers 42, 12 missing; privates 361, 168 missing.
Wounded--officers, 144; non-commissioned officers, 154; privates, 1,918.
A number of the missing were afterwards found to have been killed. Total
killed, wounded, and missing, 2,839. Our loss, for the numbers engaged,
was far greater than that of our Allies.
The enemy's loss was something awful. They acknowledged a loss, from the
5th to the 8th September inclusive, of upwards of 25,000 officers,
non-commissioned officers and men! Thus the final effort for the capture
of this town cost in round numbers between 35,000 and 40,000 men. Such
are some of the so-called "glories," but I would rather say "horrors" of
war.
THE SPOIL.
The extent of the spoil captured by the Allies was almost incredible,
notwithstanding all that the Russians had expended or destroyed. The
cannon of various sizes numbered 3,840, 128 of which were brass (a great
number had been thrown into the harbour, in order to avoid their being
taken); round shot, 407,314; shell, 101,755; canister cases, 24,080;
gunpowder, 525,000 lb; ball cartridges, 670,000 rounds, and other
articles too numerous to mention. The spoil was equally divided between
our people and our gallant Allies.
Low down the billows under,
Lies now his vaunted thunder,
Every plank is split asunder.
Honour the Crimean Army,
No more his cannon frown,
Above his boasted town;
Bastions and forts are down;
And all his proud array of ships,
And his guns with fiery lips,
lie cooling beneath the wave.
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE REDAN AFTER ITS CAPTURE.]
This mighty contest was, for the time it occupied and for the means
employed on both sides, without a parallel. The vast resources of the
British Empire had been largely drawn upon before haughty Russia could
be humbled. The forces employed, the greater portion of which were
carried there and back by the fleets of Old England, were as
follows:--210,000 French, 105,000 British, 40,000 Turks, 15,000
Piedmontese, with 1500 guns, and over 80,000 horses, to say nothing of
the enormous quantity of war material and food required for that great
host. This force had been confronted by far more than an equal number of
Russians. The annals of war have nothing to compare with it, and all
former campaigns sink into insignificance. Four great battles had been
fought and won by the Allies, followed by an arduous and unparalleled
siege of eleven months' duration, terminating in a glorious victory, and
the total destruction of 118 ships of war, the capture of a fortress
defended by 6,000 pieces of cannon, and the final defeat of an army of
150,000 men which defended it. Old England may well be proud of her army
and her navy, which enable her to bid defiance to the world.
Shakespeare gave utterance to the simple truth, when he said:--
Come the three corners of the world in arms,
And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue,
If England to itself do rest but true.
INSIDE SEBASTOPOL.
The horrors inside the town, where the enemy had established their
hospitals, baffle all description. Some of our non-commissioned officers
and men went into those places, and described the scenes as
heart-rending and revolting in the extreme. Many of the buildings were
full of dead and dying mutilated bodies, without anyone to give them
even a drink of water! Poor fellows, they had well defended their
country's cause, and were now left to die in agony, unattended, uncared
for, packed as closely as they could be stowed away, saturated with
blood, and with the crash of the exploding forts all around them; they
had served their _loving friend_ and master, the Czar, but too well;
there they lay, in a state of nudity, literally rolling in their blood.
Many, when our men found them, were past all aid, others were out of
their mind, driven mad by pain and the appalling sights in the midst of
which they were. Our officers and men, both French and English, found
their way there indiscriminately, and at once set to work to relieve
them; medical aid was brought as quickly as possible to them, but
hundreds had passed beyond all earthly assistance.
Such a Sunday! Our men were struck with wonderment and horror at the
awful scenes--
Piled high as autumn shocks, there lay
The ghastly harvest of the fray;
The corpses of the slain--
Both friend and foe.
These were the horrors of war! Though a soldier and fully embued with
the spirit of patriotism, I would say with all my heart, "From war good
Lord deliver us." The man who delights in war is a _madman_; I would put
him in the thick of it for just one day, and he would then know a little
what war to the knife means. Our men, I am happy to relate, did
everything they could for those of the enemy in whom a spark of life was
found. Yes, the very men who only a few hours before had done all they
could to destroy life, were now to be found, in their right minds, doing
all that lay in their power for their unfortunate foes as well as
friends.
A soldier, it matters not what his rank, must not for one moment, when
engaged, think what the consequences are or may be. It is his duty to
destroy all he can belonging to the enemy; in fact, he is often worked
up to such a pitch that he becomes a perfect fiend, or, as the Russians
called us at the Alma, "red devils in petticoats." None but men who are
mad could do in cold blood the deeds that were performed by some of our
men.
[Illustration: A STREET IN SEBASTOPOL AFTER THE SIEGE.]
It is an old saying that "if anything is to be done let it be done
well," and--I must again repeat it--our men now set to work with a will
to do all that lay in their power to rescue from an untimely end as many
as they could. The sights on all sides melted to tears many veterans who
had resolutely stormed the heights of Alma, rode up the valley of death
at Balaclava, and stood as conquerors on the field of Inkermann, which
names will never be forgotten as long as language endures. Many bodies
were fast decomposing, and had to be interred at once--one common grave
answered for both friend and foe. The ditch in front of the Redan was
utilised for all who fell anywhere near it; those that fell in our
trenches were buried there, the parapets being in both cases thrown upon
them; the stench was almost unbearable for weeks afterwards. Some two
or three hundred rough-looking coffins were found in the town--they were
full, it was supposed, of officers, but the enemy had not had time to
bury them. A steamer came over from the north side on Monday, the 10th
September, 1855, under a flag of truce, and begged to be allowed to
remove the wounded. The request was at once granted, for our doctors
were only too glad to get rid of them, as they had plenty in their own
camps to attend to: a very great number of these poor fellows had been
suffering intense agony for forty-eight hours, when, without even a
drink of water, they were removed out of our sight. All our wounded
found in the town were carried as quickly as possible to camp; and then
the men set to work to get what they could for themselves out of the
midst of the ruins--set to work plundering, if you choose to call it so.
But it was dangerous work, and many of them lost their limbs, and some
their lives, through their foolishness, by the fire from the enemy
across the harbour. Some who were laden with all sorts of articles were
stopped by the officers, who wanted to know what they were going to do
with all that rubbish. The men would at once throw down their loads and
salute the officers, who repeated the question, "What on earth do you
want with all that rubbish, my men?" "An sure your 'onor don't we mane
to let furnished lodgings!" They were carrying chairs, tables, bed-cots,
in fact, articles too numerous to mention; "Sure, your 'onor, we are not
going to let the Zouaves have it all!" A stalwart Irish grenadier, when
being rebuked for pilfering, answered, "Sure, an your 'onor, them nice
gentlemen they call Zouaves have been after emptying the place clane
out; troth if the divil would kindly go to sleep for only one minute
them Zouaves would stale one of his horns, if it was only useful to keep
his coffee in." Truly these gentlemen were capital hands at fishing up
all that was likely to be useful. Some of our Hibernian boys had got a
good haul, and were making off as fast as possible, when a party of
Zouaves stopped them and wanted to go halves; but Paddy was not half
such a fool as he was taken for--he would not give up anything until he
had found out which was the best man, so the load was thrown down, and
the Frenchmen were very soon satisfied and only too glad to get out of
the way. It was a common saying in camp that there was nothing too hot
or too heavy for the Zouaves to walk off with, and where there was room
for a rat there was room for one of these nimble little gentlemen to get
in. They proved themselves all during the fighting troublesome customers
to the enemy; and now that the fight was over they distinguished
themselves by pilfering everything they could lay hands upon; but they
did not get all--our huts were made very comfortable by the wood that
our men brought out of the town. Although the second winter was far
colder than the first, we had means to resist the cold with, any amount
of clothing and good shelter, with plenty to eat and drink. By degrees
our wounded began to recover so as to be able to walk about the camp,
and to return to their duty; and had the war continued, we should have
had upwards of 100,000 men in our army alone, to march against the
enemy, but, thank God, it was ordered otherwise.
* * * * *
The following will prove that the enemy suffered a terrible loss during
that long siege, particularly in the last three months that the town
held out. The _Invalide Russe_ (one of their principal papers),
published their loss as follows; but I have every reason to believe that
it is far below the truth. The report stated that in our final efforts
to take Sebastopol from them, they suffered heavily; during the fifth
bombardment, which was in August, 1855, they acknowledged a daily loss
of 1,500 men, exclusive of officers; and then at the Tchernaya there
was a loss of close upon 10,000 men dead and wounded--that was on the
16th August, 1855. It added that whole brigades disappeared, and the
interior of the town was nothing but a slaughter house or a hell upon
earth; then it went on to say that they lost 1,000 men daily until the
last or final bombardment, and further, their loss was 18,000 men,
exclusive of officers, from the 5th to the 8th of September! We know
that they lost nearly double that number.
* * * * *
It is bad enough to be on the conqueror's side, but what must it be to
be on the side of the vanquished? The conquerors have something to keep
up their spirits, but the defeated lack every source of consolation.
* * * * *
We knew well that a grateful and kind-hearted people in old England were
watching every move we made. Mr. Bull does not mind how deeply he dives
into his pocket, so long as he can sit with his pipe and glass over a
good fire, and shout "We have beaten them again, my boys": and we had
given Mr. Bull something to talk about now that Sebastopol had been
taken. The bells of old England we knew would clash for joy, in peal
after peal, at the news of the fall of this town. But there is another
side to the picture. Many a good, kind, fond mother lost her son,
perhaps her only son; thousands were left fatherless; hundreds were left
to mourn absent husbands; and many a heart-rending scene in many a
formerly happy home was brought about by this terrible war.
REFLECTIONS.
I do hope that if ever we go to war again on account of Turkey, it will
be to help to drive the "Sick Man" out of Europe; but, above all, that
we shall always keep side by side with France, through thick and thin.
I believe we shall find a great friend and useful ally in her. It is
true what Napoleon I. said, that France and England united could dictate
to the whole world; and the statesmen who keep them united will be wise,
for none would then dare to attack us. "I have proved the strength of
England," said that great, little man; and when he came to die, he
acknowledged where the strength of England lay. Calling one of his
faithful followers to his bedside, he requested that the Book of Books
should be brought to him. Placing his hand upon the book, he fastened
his eyes upon those who stood speechless by his side--he that had made
the whole of Europe tremble at his word (England excepted)--and said, "I
have often wondered where the strength of England lay; but since I have
come to this lonely spot, I have had time to think, and I have come to
the conclusion that any thinking man must come to, _that the strength of
England lay in the great secret contained in this Book_." Reader, these
are memorable words, especially when we consider that they came from the
lips of one _who had spent nearly all his days an infidel_, and had had
to go to the rock of St. Helena to find out the truth. He died there,
_professing Christianity_, on the 5th May, 1821, aged 52 years; and the
old East Suffolk Regiment carried him to his grave--twelve grenadiers of
the 12th Regiment being selected to bear his remains to the place of
interment. Conqueror as he was, he had to lay down his arms to King
Death, comparatively young--
For when death the fatal route did bring,
His soul did march away. At the great judgment day,
Among the Blest may he be found, and all his sins forgiven!
As his route was, reader, in time thine shall surely be,
Kings and Dragoons, when called, must pass away.
While in hospital wounded, I caused the following to be sent to my
parents:--
Camp before the Ruins of Sebastopol,
September 14th, 1855.
My Dear, Dear Parents,
Thank God I have been saved alive through the grand but
bloody struggle. You will see this is not my writing. I may
as well tell you at once that they have hit me again. You
will, most likely, see my name in the papers as badly
wounded, but you must not despair; I am at present very
comfortable in hospital, with one of my comrades to look
after me, who now writes this from my dictation. I must tell
you they hit me on the head, in two places, and knocked my
left hand about rather badly, but I live in hopes of getting
over this, and I will warm them for it if ever I get a
chance. Well, to my story. To start with, I am happy to
inform you that the town is taken at last, but it has been,
as I always said it would be, a hard nut to crack. I told
you in my last that I did not think we should be long before
we were let loose at it; everything was kept very quiet; the
last, our grand bombardment, opened on the morning of the
5th, and the roaring of the heavy guns was something
deafening. I went into the trenches on the night of the 6th;
had a rough little bit of work on the night of the 7th; it
was then that I began to smell a rat that something was in
the wind; some of our poor fellows who had gone through the
whole campaign were, by a mistake, shot down by their own
comrades; I was in charge of the party, thirty odd men, and
lost two-thirds of them in two or three minutes, through the
men in the front trench not being informed that we were out.
I did not find out what was before me until I reached the
camp about 1 a.m. on the terrible 8th. I cannot now describe
that awful day's work which ended in a glorious victory. I
find our loss and that of the French has been frightful; it
is reported that our united loss has been upwards of 12,000,
killed, wounded, and missing. I do hope that this will be
the last item in the butcher's bill. If we are to have any
more fighting let's go at them in the open field, and then
if our numbers are anywhere near their's we will soon let
you know who will take possession; they fight well behind
earthworks, but they want a lot of Dutch courage into them
to make them show up in the open field. I hope you will be
contented with what I have said; I must not do anymore
to-day; I must keep quiet.
Well, I've had a few hours' rest and I feel that I should
like to bring this letter to a close; and will, if I am
spared, give you a long account of that terrible fight that
laid Sebastopol at our feet, and I am proud to say that a
great number of Norfolk and Suffolk men have helped to plant
our glorious old flag on the blood-stained walls of that
far-famed town, Sebastopol. It was a Norfolk man that led us
to the finishing stroke (Windham), and right well he did
it--it was, 'Come on, boys, and I will show you the way!'
The fighting, dear Parents, in the interior of the Redan was
desperate; when I come to recall it, it seems almost too
much for me. I cannot express my gratitude to the King of
Kings and Lord of Lords, who shielded my life,--I hope for
some good purpose,--on those bloody parapets, when my poor
comrades fell like Autumn leaves all around, to rise no
more. It seemed utterly impossible that any could escape;
and we had a great number of very young men with us who had
come out with drafts to fill up the gaps. But they were too
young for the trying work, many of them had not seen
seventeen summers; plenty of them had not had two months'
service. We wanted 20,000 tried veterans; but through some
mismanagement they were kept back.
I will write again as soon as I get a little more
strength--so cheer up, dear parents. Tell Tom he had better
eat some more beef and dumplings before ever he thinks of
soldiering; one in a family is quite enough to be shot at,
at a time. Tell poor mother to cheer up, I will come home to
Norwich some day, and give her as warm a greeting as the
Frenchmen gave me at Malta. I must now conclude. Give my
kind regards to all inquiring friends, and believe me, dear
parents,
Your affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
P.S.--What a lot of nonsense they put in the papers--it's
only filling up stuff, or, in plain language, boast. Men had
far better not write at all, if they cannot confine
themselves to the truth; for they only get laughed at, as
the papers are read in the camp. Please send Illustrated.
Yours, &c.,
T.G.
* * * * *
"Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in a pitched battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang?"
OLD ENGLAND.
When Nature embellished the tint
Of thy hills and thy valleys so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print
The footsteps of slavery there?
Nay, every Son of Albion "shall be free."
_Moore._
* * * * *
Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free;
They touch our country and their shackles fall.
_Cowper._
* * * * *
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise;
This fortress, built by Nature for herself,
Against infection and the hand of war;
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
_Shakespeare._
CHAPTER VI.
Numerical List of Killed and Wounded in the various
Regiments forming the Crimean Army--Loss of the Light and
Second Divisions--Loss by Neglect, Hardships, and
Starvation--List of the Regiments that formed the various
Divisions of the Army--After the Siege--A Dreadful Explosion
in the Camp and its consequences--Lieut. Hope and the
Fusiliers again leading to almost certain death--A Peep
behind the Scenes--Lines on Miss Florence Nightingale--My
letter of 26th December, 1855, to my Parents--Concluding
Remarks, and Return Home to be nearly Killed with
Kindness--Irish Anecdotes--The Royal Fusiliers--A sketch of
the "Holy Boys"--The Connaught Rangers not to be
despised--Lines on the Campaign.
THE BRITISH KILLED AND WOUNDED.
The following tabular statement will, I feel confident, prove of much
interest. The facts and figures it contains are from official records,
and will show upon what regiments the brunt of the fighting fell
throughout that arduous campaign, from the 14th September, 1854, until
the 8th of September, 1855, or, in other words, from our landing till
the fall of Sebastopol.
Those regiments marked with the letters LD. formed the Light Division,
and those marked 2nd formed the 2nd Division. The reader will be able to
see at once by their losses that the brunt of the fighting fell upon
those two Divisions. A number of men fell afterwards by the fire from
the enemy across the harbour; and again the old Light Division sustained
heavy loss at the explosion of the right siege train in November, 1855,
which is not included in these figures.
I have never been able to ascertain the exact loss of our blue jackets
and marines, which was very heavy; they fought well all through the
campaign, as they always do, and helped to acheive the crowning
victory--the capture of Sebastopol.
+--------------------+----------------------------------++
| | KILLED. ||
| +-------+------+----------+--------++
| REGIMENTS. |Offirs.|Srgts.|Trumpeters| Rank ||
| | | | | & file ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
|Staff | 9 | ... | ... | ... ||
|1st King's Dragoon | | | | ||
| Guards [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... ||
|4th Royal Irish | | | | ||
| do. [B]| ... | ... | ... | 1 ||
|5th Dragoon | | | | ||
| Guards [B]| ... | ... | ... | 2 ||
|6th Carabineers [A]| ... | ... | ... | 1 ||
|1st Royal | | | | ||
| Dragoons [B]| 1 | ... | ... | 12 ||
|2nd Scots Greys [B]| ... | ... | ... | 14 ||
|4th Hussars [C]| 2 | 5 | 3 | 24 ||
|6th Inniskillings[B]| 1 | 1 | ... | 8 ||
|8th Hussars | | | | ||
| (Royal Irish) [C]| 2 | 3 | ... | 28 ||
|10th Hussars [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... ||
|11th Hussars [C]| 2 | 2 | ... | 36 ||
|12th Lancers [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... ||
|13th Hussars [C]| 3 | 3 | 1 | 25 ||
|17th Lancers | 3 | 1 | 1 | 32 ||
|Royal Artillery | 12 | 10 | ... | 94 ||
|Engineers | 12 | 1 | ... | 29 ||
|Land Transport | ... | ... | ... | ... ||
|Ambulance Corps | ... | ... | ... | ... ||
|3rd Batt. Grenadier | | | | ||
| Guards | 5 | 3 | 1 | 51 ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
+--------------------+----------------------------------++
| | WOUNDED. ||
| +-------+------+----------+--------++
| REGIMENTS. |Offirs.|Srgts.|Trumpeters| Rank ||
| | | | | & file ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
|Staff | 29 | ... | ... | ... ||
|1st King's Dragoon | | | | ||
| Guards [A]| ... | ... | ... | 4 ||
|4th Royal Irish | | | | ||
| do. [B]| ... | 2 | ... | 13 ||
|5th Dragoon | | | | ||
| Guards [B]| 3 | ... | ... | 9 ||
|6th Carabineers [A]| ... | ... | ... | 4 ||
|1st Royal | | | | ||
| Dragoons [B]| 4 | 1 | 1 | 15 ||
|2nd Scots Greys [B]| 4 | 5 | ... | 48 ||
|4th Hussars [C]| 2 | 1 | ... | 33 ||
|6th Inniskillings[B]| 2 | 1 | ... | 14 ||
|8th Hussars | | | | ||
| (Royal Irish) [C]| 3 | 2 | 1 | 19 ||
|10th Hussars [A]| 1 | ... | ... | 6 ||
|11th Hussars [C]| 3 | 3 | 1 | 31 ||
|12th Lancers [A]| ... | ... | ... | 2 ||
|13th Hussars [C]| 3 | 2 | 1 | 16 ||
|17th Lancers | 5 | 3 | 2 | 38 ||
|Royal Artillery | 26 | 22 | ... | 428 ||
|Engineers | 16 | 8 | ... | 70 ||
|Land Transport | ... | ... | ... | 3 ||
|Ambulance Corps | ... | ... | ... | 3 ||
|3rd Batt. Grenadier | | | | ||
| Guards | 15 | 16 | 1 | 348 ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
+--------------------+----------------------------------++-----+
| | MISSING. || |
| +-------+------+----------+--------++-----+
| REGIMENTS. |Offirs.|Srgts.|Trumpeters| Rank ||Grand|
| | | | | & file ||Total|
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++-----+
|Staff | ... | ... | ... | ... || 38|
|1st King's Dragoon | | | | || |
| Guards [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 4|
|4th Royal Irish | | | | || |
| do. [B]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 16|
|5th Dragoon | | | | || |
| Guards [B]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 14|
|6th Carabineers [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 5|
|1st Royal | | | | || |
| Dragoons [B]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 34|
|2nd Scots Greys [B]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 71|
|4th Hussars [C]| ... | ... | ... | 6 || 76|
|6th Inniskillings[B]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 27|
|8th Hussars | | | | || |
| (Royal Irish) [C]| ... | ... | ... | 8 || 66|
|10th Hussars [A]| ... | ... | ... | 2 || 9|
|11th Hussars [C]| ... | ... | ... | 11 || 89|
|12th Lancers [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 2|
|13th Hussars [C]| ... | 1 | ... | 6 || 61|
|17th Lancers | ... | 1 | 1 | 12 || 99|
|Royal Artillery | ... | ... | ... | ... || 592|
|Engineers | 1 | ... | ... | ... || 137|
|Land Transport | ... | ... | ... | ... || 3|
|Ambulance Corps | ... | ... | ... | ... || 3|
|3rd Batt. Grenadier | | | | || |
| Guards | ... | ... | ... | 30 || 470|
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++-----+
+--------------------+----------------------------------++
| | KILLED. ||
| +-------+------+----------+--------++
| REGIMENTS. |Offirs.|Srgts.| Drummers.| Rank ||
| | | | | & file ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
|1st Batt. Coldstream| | | | ||
| Guards | 10 | 4 | 1 | 28 ||
|1st Batt. Scots Fus.| | | | ||
| Guards | 4 | 2 | ... | 82 ||
|1st Batt 1st Foot | 1 | ... | ... | 15 ||
|2nd Batt. | ... | 1 | ... | 13 ||
|3rd Foot (Buffs) | | | | ||
| [A] 2nd| 1 | 6 | ... | 44 ||
|4th " | 1 | ... | ... | 26 ||
|7th Royal Fusiliers | | | | ||
| LD| 14 | 15 | 2 | 78 ||
|9th Foot | | | | ||
| (Holy Boys) [A]| 1 | ... | ... | 7 ||
|13th Foot [A]| 2 | 1 | ... | 14 ||
|14th " [A]| ... | ... | ... | 10 ||
|17th " [A]| 1 | 1 | ... | 20 ||
|18th Royal Irish [A]| 1 | 1 | ... | 50 ||
|19th Foot LD| 4 | 4 | 1 | 76 ||
|20th " | 1 | 2 | ... | 24 ||
|21st N.B. Fusiliers | 1 | 1 | ... | 31 ||
|23rd Royal Welsh | | | | ||
| Fusiliers LD| 11 | 7 | 1 | 116 ||
|28th Foot | 1 | ... | ... | 20 ||
|30th Foot 2nd| 8 | 1 | 2 | 101 ||
|31st " [A]| 2 | 2 | ... | 14 ||
|33rd " LD| 5 | 5 | ... | 96 ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
+--------------------+----------------------------------++
| | WOUNDED. ||
| +-------+------+----------+--------++
| REGIMENTS. |Offirs.|Srgts.| Drummers.| Rank ||
| | | | | & file ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
|1st Batt. Coldstream| | | | ||
| Guards | 8 | 7 | 1 | 210 ||
|1st Batt. Scots Fus.| | | | ||
| Guards | 24 | 20 | 2 | 300 ||
|1st Batt 1st Foot | 3 | 5 | ... | 74 ||
|2nd Batt. | 7 | 5 | 1 | 92 ||
|3rd Foot (Buffs) | | | | ||
| [A] 2nd| 13 | 16 | 3 | 224 ||
|4th " | 4 | 3 | ... | 122 ||
|7th Royal Fusiliers | | | | ||
| LD| 36 | 34 | 3 | 429 ||
|9th Foot | | | | ||
| (Holy Boys) [A]| 2 | 5 | ... | 83 ||
|13th Foot [A]| 4 | 6 | 1 | 112 ||
|14th " [A]| ... | 2 | ... | 46 ||
|17th " [A]| 4 | 8 | ... | 108 ||
|18th Royal Irish [A]| 11 | 26 | ... | 270 ||
|19th Foot LD| 20 | 15 | 3 | 419 ||
|20th " | 13 | 17 | 2 | 171 ||
|21st N.B. Fusiliers | 9 | 18 | ... | 80 ||
|23rd Royal Welsh | | | | ||
| Fusiliers LD| 20 | 24 | 7 | 398 ||
|28th Foot | 8 | 3 | 1 | 48 ||
|30th Foot 2nd| 20 | 15 | 4 | 363 ||
|31st " [A]| 1 | 6 | 1 | 86 ||
|33rd " LD| 23 | 25 | 2 | 350 ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
+--------------------+----------------------------------++------+
| | MISSING. || |
| +-------+------+----------+--------++------+
| REGIMENTS. |Offirs.|Srgts.| Drummers.| Rank ||Grand |
| | | | | & file ||Total.|
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++------+
|1st Batt. Coldstream| | | | || |
| Guards | ... | 1 | ... | 53 || 323|
|1st Batt. Scots Fus.| | | | || |
| Guards | ... | ... | ... | 19 || 453|
|1st Batt 1st Foot | ... | ... | ... | ... || 98|
|2nd Batt. | ... | ... | ... | ... || 119|
|3rd Foot (Buffs) | | | | || |
| [A] 2nd| 1 | ... | ... | 2 || 310|
|4th " | 1 | ... | ... | 2 || 159|
|7th Royal Fusiliers | | | | || |
| LD| 1 | 2 | ... | 18 || 632|
|9th Foot | | | | || |
| (Holy Boys) [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 98|
|13th Foot [A]| ... | 1 | ... | 6 || 147|
|14th " [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 58|
|17th " [A]| ... | ... | ... | 1 || 143|
|18th Royal Irish [A]| ... | ... | ... | 1 || 360|
|19th Foot LD| ... | ... | ... | 7 || 549|
|20th " | ... | ... | ... | 29 || 259|
|21st N.B. Fusiliers | ... | ... | ... | 13 || 153|
|23rd Royal Welsh | | | | || |
| Fusiliers LD| 1 | 1 | 2 | 46 || 634|
|28th Foot | ... | ... | ... | 3 || 84|
|30th Foot 2nd| ... | ... | ... | 1 || 515|
|31st " [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 112|
|33rd " LD| 1 | ... | ... | 3 || 510|
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++------+
+--------------------+----------------------------------++
| | KILLED. ||
| +-------+------+----------+--------++
| REGIMENTS. |Offirs.|Srgts.| Drummers.| Rank ||
| | | | | & file ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
|34th Foot [A] LD| 5 | 2 | ... | 66 ||
|38th " | 2 | 4 | ... | 22 ||
|39th " [A]| 1 | ... | ... | 3 ||
|41st " 2nd| 8 | 7 | ... | 116 ||
|42nd Highlanders [D]| 1 | ... | ... | 20 ||
|44th Foot | 5 | 3 | 2 | 24 ||
|46th " [A]| 1 | 1 | ... | 9 ||
|47th " 2nd| 2 | 4 | ... | 49 ||
|48th " [A]| ... | ... | ... | 6 ||
|49th " 2nd| 4 | 5 | 1 | 44 ||
|50th " (Blind | | | | ||
| Half-Hundred) | 2 | 3 | ... | 36 ||
|55th " 2nd| 5 | 1 | ... | 68 ||
|56th " [A]| ... | ... | ... | 3 ||
|57th " (Die Hards) | 5 | 10 | 1 | 45 ||
|62nd " [A] 2nd| 6 | 3 | 1 | 24 ||
|63rd " | 4 | ... | ... | 17 ||
|68th " | 5 | ... | ... | 23 ||
|71st Highlanders [A]| 1 | ... | ... | 14 ||
|72nd " [A]| ... | ... | ... | 6 ||
|77th " LD| 5 | 7 | ... | 61 ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
+--------------------+----------------------------------++
| | WOUNDED. ||
| +-------+------+----------+--------++
| REGIMENTS. |Offirs.|Srgts.| Drummers.| Rank ||
| | | | | & file ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
|34th Foot [A] LD| 17 | 22 | 4 | 308 ||
|38th " | 8 | 12 | ... | 212 ||
|39th " [A]| ... | 2 | ... | 42 ||
|41st " 2nd| 16 | 27 | 4 | 387 ||
|42nd Highlanders [D]| 2 | 5 | 1 | 111 ||
|44th Foot | 10 | 13 | 2 | 169 ||
|46th " [A]| 4 | 5 | 1 | 100 ||
|47th " 2nd| 13 | 6 | 1 | 246 ||
|48th " [A]| 2 | 5 | ... | 54 ||
|49th " 2nd| 12 | 20 | 3 | 279 ||
|50th " (Blind | | | | ||
| Half-Hundred) | 4 | 3 | 1 | 79 ||
|55th " 2nd| 20 | 23 | 1 | 366 ||
|56th " [A]| 1 | 1 | ... | 8 ||
|57th " (Die Hards) | 11 | 21 | 1 | 224 ||
|62nd " [A] 2nd| 7 | 4 | ... | 117 ||
|63rd " | 10 | 9 | 2 | 111 ||
|68th " | 4 | 4 | 2 | 114 ||
|71st Highlanders [A]| 2 | 2 | ... | 27 ||
|72nd " [A]| 2 | 1 | ... | 47 ||
|77th Foot LD | 8 | 18 | 1 | 242 ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
+--------------------+----------------------------------++------+
| | MISSING. || |
| +-------+------+----------+--------++------+
| REGIMENTS. |Offirs.|Srgts.| Drummers.| Rank ||Grand |
| | | | | & file ||Total.|
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++------+
|34th Foot [A] LD| 2 | ... | ... | 10 || 436|
|38th " | ... | ... | ... | 5 || 265|
|39th " [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 48|
|41st " 2nd| ... | ... | ... | 16 || 581|
|42nd Highlanders [D]| ... | ... | ... | 1 || 141|
|44th Foot | ... | ... | ... | 7 || 235|
|46th " [A]| ... | ... | ... | 12 || 133|
|47th " 2nd| ... | 1 | ... | 8 || 330|
|48th " [A]| ... | ... | ... | 1 || 68|
|49th " 2nd| ... | 1 | ... | 1 || 370|
|50th " (Blind | | | | || |
| Half-Hundred) | 2 | ... | ... | 11 || 141|
|55th " 2nd| ... | ... | ... | 9 || 493|
|56th " [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 13|
|57th " (Die Hards) | ... | 2 | ... | 3 || 323|
|62nd " [A] 2nd| 1 | 1 | ... | 11 || 175|
|63rd " | ... | ... | ... | ... || 153|
|68th " | ... | 4 | ... | 39 || 195|
|71st Highlanders [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 46|
|72nd " [A]| ... | ... | ... | ... || 56|
|77th Foot LD | ... | 1 | ... | 11 || 354|
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++------+
+--------------------+----------------------------------++
| | KILLED. ||
| +-------+------+----------+--------++
| REGIMENTS. |Offirs.|Srgts.| Drummers.| Rank ||
| | | | | & file ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
|79th Highlanders [D]| 1 | ... | ... | 8 ||
|82nd Foot [A] 2nd| ... | Not Engaged. | ||
|88th Connaught | | | | ||
| Rangers LD| 6 | 7 | ... | 62 ||
|89th Foot [A]| ... | ... | ... | 2 ||
|90th " [A] LD| 4 | 1 | ... | 24 ||
|93rd Highlands [D]| 1 | ... | ... | 16 ||
|95th Foot 2nd| 7 | 7 | ... | 69 ||
|97th Foot [A] LD| 6 | 3 | 2 | 43 ||
|1st Batt. Rifle | | | | ||
| Brigade | 2 | 6 | 1 | 52 ||
|2nd Batt. Rifle | | | | ||
| Brigade LD| 5 | 9 | ... | 81 ||
| | | | | ||
|Loss of the Light | | | | ||
| Division | 65 | 60 | 6 | 703 ||
|Loss of the Second | | | | ||
| Division | 39 | 34 | 4 | 515 ||
+--------------------+-------+------+----------+--------++
+--------------------++----------------------------------++
| || WOUNDED. ||
| ++-------+------+----------+--------++
| REGIMENTS. ||Offirs.|Srgts.| Drummers.| Rank ||
| || | | | & file ||
+--------------------++-------+------+----------+--------++
|79th Highlanders [D]|| 2 | 7 | ... | 52 ||
|82nd Foot [A] 2nd|| Not Engaged | ||
|88th Connaught || | | | ||
| Rangers LD|| 18 | 27 | 2 | 332 ||
|89th Foot [A]|| ... | 4 | ... | 77 ||
|90th " [A] LD|| 17 | 15 | ... | 236 ||
|93rd Highlands [D]|| 1 | 4 | 1 | 106 ||
|95th Foot 2nd|| 20 | 21 | 1 | 271 ||
|97th Foot [A] LD|| 11 | 16 | ... | 220 ||
|1st Batt. Rifle || | | | ||
| Brigade || 6 | 7 | 1 | 214 ||
|2nd Batt. Rifle || | | | ||
| Brigade LD|| 15 | 22 | 7 | 462 ||
| || | | | ||
|Loss of the Light || | | | ||
| Division || 185 | 218 | 29 | 3396 ||
|Loss of the Second || | | | ||
| Division || 121 | 132 | 17 | 2253 ||
+--------------------++-------+------+----------+--------++
+--------------------++----------------------------------++------+
| || MISSING. || |
| ++-------+------+----------+--------++------+
| REGIMENTS. ||Offirs.|Srgts.| Drummers.| Rank ||Grand |
| || | | | & file ||Total.|
+--------------------++-------+------+----------+--------++------+
|79th Highlanders [D]|| ... | ... | ... | ... || 70 |
|82nd Foot [A] 2nd|| Not Engaged. | || |
|88th Connaught || | | | || |
| Rangers LD|| ... | ... | ... | 21 || 475 |
|89th Foot [A]|| 1 | ... | ... | ... || 84 |
|90th " [A] LD|| ... | 4 | ... | 33 || 334 |
|93rd Highlands [D]|| 1 | ... | ... | ... || 130 |
|95th Foot 2nd|| ... | ... | ... | 3 || 399 |
|97th Foot [A] LD|| ... | 4 | ... | 36 || 341 |
|1st Batt. Rifle || | | | || |
| Brigade || ... | 3 | ... | 10 || 302 |
|2nd Batt. Rifle || | | | || |
| Brigade LD|| ... | ... | ... | 8 || 609 |
| || | | | || |
|Loss of the Light || | | | || |
| Division || 5 | 12 | 2 | 193 || 4874 |
|Loss of the Second || | | | || |
| Division || 2 | 3 | ... | 51 || 3171 |
+--------------------++-------+------+----------+--------++------+
| |
| LD Regiments that formed the Light Division. |
| 2nd Those that formed the Second Division. |
| [A] Joined the Army after Inkermann. |
| [B] The Regiments under General Scarlett that rode through and |
| through the enemy, and routed them from the plains of |
| Balaclava. |
| [C] Formed the Light Brigade under the Earl of Cardigan. |
| [D] Were not engaged at Inkermann, although they were in the |
| Crimea. |
| |
| The Light Division was near being blown up to a man in |
| November, 1855. The Magazines, just in rear of our camp, |
| caught fire and went up with a terrible crash, killing and |
| wounding a number of men. |
| |
+----------------------------------------------------------------+
LOSS OF THE ROYAL FUSILIERS
DURING THE CRIMEAN CAMPAIGN.
_Killed or died of wounds in the Crimea._
Colonel L. W. Yea, Lieutenant-Colonel F. Mills,
Capt. the Hon. W. Monk, Capt. the Hon. G. L. Hare,
Capt. A. Wallace, Capt. the Hon. C. Brown,
Lieut. Molesworth, Lieut. and Adjt. Hobson,
Lieut. the Hon. E. Fitzclarence, Lieut. O. Colt,
Lieut. W. L. Wright, Lieut. Beauchamp,
Qurtr-Mstr. J. Hogan, Asst.-Surgn. J. P. Langham,
AND
559 Non-Commissioned Officers and Privates, who fell
in action, or died of wounds or disease, during the
Campaign.
LOSS OF THE ARMY FROM DISEASE, &c.
The following is the total number of Officers, Non-Com. Officers, and
men, who died of disease, hardships, and starvation, in the Crimean
Campaign, from 14th of September, 1854, to the 30th April, 1856. This
table does not include those who died at home, almost as soon as they
landed, nor those who died of wounds, nor the losses of the Marines or
Sailors manning our heavy guns on shore--and their loss was heavy. If we
put the total loss from causes other than were incidental to actual
fighting, at 21,000, we should not be overstating it.
===============++======================++======================++
|| || ||
|| Cavalry. || Artillery. ||
|| || ||
++-----------+----------++-----------+----------++
|| | || | ||
|| Officers. | N.C.O.'s || Officers. | N.C.O.'s ||
|| | and Men. || | and Men. ||
|| | || | ||
---------------++-----------+----------++-----------+----------++
|| | || | ||
Died of || | || | ||
Disease, &c. || 23 | 1007 || 16 | 1398 ||
|| | || | ||
===============++===========+==========++===========+==========++
===============++======================++======================++======
|| || ||
|| Enginrs. || Infantry. ||
|| || ||
++-----------+----------++-----------+----------++
|| | || | ||
|| Officers. | N.C.O.'s || Officers. | N.C.O.'s || Grand
|| | and Men. || | and Men. || Total
|| | || | ||
---------------++-----------+----------++-----------+----------++
|| | || | ||
Died of || | || | ||
Disease, &c. || 5 | 177 || 115 | 15866 || 18647
|| | || | ||
===============++===========+==========++===========+==========++======
THE CRIMEAN ARMY.
The following was the composition of the various Divisions of the
Crimean Army:--
_Cavalry Division._
1st, 4th, and 5th Dragoon Guards, 1st, 2nd, and 6th
Dragoons--Heavy Brigade.
6th Dragoon Guards, 4th and 13th Light Dragoons, 12th
Lancers, 8th, 10th, and 11th Hussars, and 17th Lancers--Two
Light Brigades.
_First Division._
3rd Batt. Grenadier Guards, 1st Batt. Coldstream Guards, 1st
Batt. Scots Fusiliers Guards--First Brigade.
9th, 13th, 31st, and 56th Foot--Second Brigade.
_Highland Division._
42nd, 79th, 92nd, 93rd--First Brigade.
1st-2nd Batt. 1st Foot, 71st, 91st and 72nd--Second Brigade.
_Second Division._
3rd, 30th, 55th, and 95th Foot--First Brigade.
41st, 47th, 49th, 62nd, and 82nd--Second Brigade.
_Third Division._
4th, 14th, 39th, 50th, and 89th Foot--First Brigade.
18th, 28th, 38th, and 44th Foot--Second Brigade.
_Fourth Division._
17th, 20th, 21st, 57th, and 63rd Foot--First Brigade.
46th, 48th, 68th, 1st Batt. Rifle Brigade--Second Brigade.
_Light Division._
7th Royal Fusiliers, 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers, 33rd, 34th,
and 2nd Batt. Rifle Brigade--First Brigade.
19th, 77th, 88th, 90th, and 97th Foot--Second Brigade.
_Artillery._
Royal Horse Artillery, A. C. and I. Troops.
Batteries A. B. E. F. G. H. I. Q. W. Y. and Z.
_Engineers._
Companies 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11.
Loss of English Horses in six months, during the winters of
1854 and 1855--Strength, 5048, Died, 2122.
AFTER THE SIEGE
The remainder of September and October, 1855, passed off pretty quietly.
After the dead had been buried and the wounded removed to camp, our
commanders were at liberty to turn their thoughts towards the enemy
still on the north side of the harbour; the south side was well guarded
by British troops and those of our allies (the French). There were as
yet no signs of peace; we were still frowning at each other across the
water. The enemy's fleets had all been sent to the bottom, but the
booming of their heavy guns told us that although defeated the
Muscovites were not yet subdued, and that if we wanted the north side we
should have to fight for it. Our people were now making preparations for
destroying the huge forts, barracks, and docks of Sebastopol. This had
sometimes to be carried on under a heavy fire from the north side, but
still the work did not cease. Not a day passed without our losing a
number of men and some good officers. By the end of October many of our
wounded began to recover and to return to their duties; some, discharged
from hospital convalescent, might be seen walking about the camps with
their arms in splints, or with their heads bandaged, others limping
about with the assistance of a stick or crutch--but all appeared in high
spirits. That indomitable British pluck had been in no wise quenched, in
spite of the wounds that had been received. Our men were burning to have
another "shy" at the enemy on a grand scale, in order to wipe out the
stain of the repulse at the Redan, although that was not all their
fault. The first anniversary of the Alma was kept in camp in grand
style, as far as our means would allow, and wine was sent to all the
wounded Alma men then in hospital. When we looked back, what an eventful
twelve months that had been! Victory after victory had been added to our
already long and glorious roll; but, alas! where were the noble sons of
Britain who had gained them? Had all fallen? Had all been food for
powder or succumbed to the deadly thrust of the bayonet? No! Hundreds,
yea thousands, had been sacrificed by cruel hardships--little or no
food, hardly sufficient clothing to cover their nakedness, in the
trenches for twelve hours at a stretch, up to their ankles (or sometimes
knees) in mud, half drowned, frozen to death, their limbs dropping off
through frost-bite! There is hardly one of those men now living who does
not feel the effects of that terrible winter of 1854. Thousands have
since perished, through diseases contracted during that awful time; but
the excitement, supported by an invincible spirit, kept them up then and
for some time after. The first anniversary of Balaclava and Inkermann
found me still in hospital, slowly recovering, able to walk about, but
very shaky. Inkermann was another anniversary duly observed by the whole
army. We had by this time got into capital huts, and had plenty of good
clothing, in fact, more than we could stand under; and we had as much
food as we required--thousands of tons of potted beef, mutton, and all
kinds of vegetables, having been sent out by the kind-hearted people at
home. Indeed, it looked very much as though we were being fattened
before being let loose at the enemy again. We could now almost bid
defiance to a Russian winter. Each man's wardrobe consisted of the
following:--A tunic, well lined with flannel; a shell-jacket, well
lined; a fur coat, a rough sandbag coat, a summer coat, made of tweed;
an overcoat, a waterproof coat that came below the knees, a forage cap
and a fur cap, two pairs of cloth trousers, one sandbag ditto, one pair
of waterproof leggings, two pairs of ankle boots, one pair of long ditto
to go outside the trousers and come nearly up to the fork; three woollen
jerseys, three linen shirts, two pairs of good flannel drawers, three
ditto worsted stockings, and two cholera belts made of flannel. It would
have been rather a difficult matter to find out what regiment a man
belonged to. The greater portion of these things had been sent us by our
sympathising fellow countrymen and countrywomen; and we who received
them were deeply grateful for the kindness shown. Had those gallant men
who fought and conquered at the Alma, rode through and through the enemy
on the plains of Balaclava, rolled their proud legions back time after
time from the heights of Inkermann, and sent them headlong into
Sebastopol in indescribable confusion--had they been supplied with one
quarter of the clothing that we now had, we should have had them with us
to help to storm the Redan, and a far different tale would have been
told. The Bells of Old England would have clashed again for victory, as
at the Alma, Balaclava, and Inkermann. But, alas! the bones of the
greater portion of those victorious Britons were rotting in the Valley
of Death--
I saw the Valley of Death, where thousands lay low,
Not half of whom e'er fell by the hands of the foe;
The causes are many, as well known to the State,
But I might give offence if the truth I relate.
A BRITISH HEROINE.
I must not leave this subject without just reminding the reader that the
Sick and Wounded in the Crimea owed much to gentle English ladies, who
bravely came out as nurses, but foremost amongst this devoted band was
one whose name has since remained a synonym for kindly sympathy,
tenderness, and grace--Miss Florence Nightingale. I cannot forbear
quoting the following lines written in praise of this estimable lady:--
MISS FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
Britain has welcomed home with open hand
Her gallant soldiers to their native land;
But one alone the Nation's thanks did shun,
Though Europe rings with all that she hath done;
For when will 'shadow on the wall' e'er fail
To picture forth fair Florence Nightingale?
Her deeds are blazon'd on the scroll of fame,
And England well may prize her deathless name.
A NIGHTINGALE IN THE CAMP.
The men before Sebastopol--a more heroic host
There never stood, in hardship and in peril, at their post.
The foremost of these warriors 'twas a famous thing to be,
And there the first among them goes, if thou hast eyes to see.
It's not the good Lord Raglan, nor yet the great Omar,
No, nor the fierce Pellisier, though thunderbolts of war.
Behold the Soldier who in worth excels above the rest--
That English maiden yonder is our bravest and our best.
Brave men, so called, are plentiful, the most of men are brave;
So, truly, are the most of dogs, who reck not of a grave:
Their valour's not self-sacrifice, but simple want of heed,
But courage in a woman's heart is bravery indeed.
And there is Mercy's Amazon, within whose little breast
Burns the great spirit that has dared the fever and the pest;
And she has grappled with grim Death, that maid so bold and meek,
There is the mark of battle, fresh upon her pallid cheek.
That gallant, gentle lady the camp would fain review,
Throughout the Chief exhorts her with such honour as is due.
How many a prayer attends on her, how many a blessing greets;
How many a glad and grateful eye among that host she meets;
Among the world's great women thou hast made thy glorious mark,
Men will hereafter mention make of thee with Joan of Arc;
And fathers, who relate the Maid of Saragossa's tale,
Will tell their little children, too, of Florence Nightingale.
A PEEP BEHIND THE SCENES.
BY AN OLD FUSILIER.
The following will, we trust, prove interesting to all classes of the
community:--
On the memorable foggy morning of November 5th, 1854, I went
on picquet with my company, No. 1 of the Royal Fusiliers, to
relieve a company of the Royal Welsh, in the White-house
ravine. An officer of the 77th[11] commanded us, as we had
not sufficient officers of our own, after our heavy loss at
the Alma. We arrived at our post about the usual hour (a
little before daylight), and relieved the Royal Welsh, who
retired a short distance to wait for clear daylight before
returning to camp--a practice observed when in presence of
an enemy. Shortly afterwards our sentries came running in
with the news that the enemy were advancing in great force.
Our officer at once disposed his picquet to the best
advantage to resist them. They were soon upon us in
overwhelming numbers, but were received with a fire that
staggered them. The Royal Welsh at once rushed to our
assistance; every rock and stone was hotly disputed, and the
enemy received such a warm reception that they were
compelled to fall back for a time. All ranks in the two
Fusilier companies seemed to vie with each other in deeds of
valour. This was only the first scene in that unequal
contest that no native in our sea-girt isle need blush at,
but remember with pride. The picquets on our right, composed
of the Second Division, fought with desperation, hurling the
Muscovites over the rocks in grand style. It has been
acknowledged by all ranks that the picquets this morning
nobly did their duty, and checked the massive Muscovite
drunken columns until the main body of our army had time to
get under arms. The cool intrepidity of a mere handful of
men had saved the allied army; our principal magazine was
just in our rear, and our orders were to hold this position
to the last, and then retire to the five-gun battery; the
massive columns of the enemy were gradually forcing back the
picquet on our right, who retired in good order, disputing
every inch of ground, but compelled to leave their poor
wounded comrades behind, who were bayoneted to a man by the
cruel enemy. Our flank was now exposed, and the enemy got in
rear of us, unobserved in the dense fog. As soon as we found
that we were surrounded, we were ordered to make the best of
our way towards the five-gun battery; a general rush was
made in that direction, the enemy pouring volley after
volley into us. A number of our poor fellows were shot dead
or wounded. The wounded who were found afterwards were all
bayoneted. I was in the act of loading when a number of them
rushed at me with the bayonet. I at once fired, and one of
the enemy fell. I was the next moment knocked down with the
butt end and stunned. When I came to, I found my arms tied
behind me. They hurried me off under a strong escort. I had
not proceeded far when I found they had another of the
picquet, a corporal of the Royal Welsh. His arms were bound
in like manner. We had not gone many yards when one of the
cowardly brutes shot him dead. Every moment I expected the
same treatment; but, thank God, my escort were more merciful
(being Poles). I was taken to that part of the field where
all the Russian staff were stationed. I was surprised when I
arrived to see a number of my comrades of the White-house
ravine picquet; the officer (Captain Duff, Royal Welsh
Fusiliers) and twenty of his men had been cut off, and
taken, likewise seven of the Royal Fusiliers. I did not now
feel so lonely; the officer who commanded our company was
also taken, but his escort marched him towards Sebastopol.
As soon as he got clear of the enemy's columns, he took out
his revolver from an inside pocket of his overcoat, knocked
the man down on his right senseless, shot the one on his
left dead, and the third man at once surrendered himself his
prisoner, whom he brought into our camp. Most of the
prisoners taken were shamefully treated, particularly the
captain of the 23rd R. W. His uniform was torn off his back,
and he was robbed of all articles of value, but recovered
them by explaining in French to a General officer, and
pointing out the men who had robbed him. The General gave
them all a good thrashing, which quite amused us; but we
soon found that this was a usual practice, the senior boxing
the ear of the junior. During the whole of that dreadful day
we were kept under fire from our own little army. The
attacking columns of the enemy were driven back with fearful
slaughter. Liquor vodkie was freely used, until they were
mad drunk. But, drunk or sober, our comrades hurled them
back from the field time after time. Their princes and
generals were mad with rage, to see their huge columns
driven from the field, time after time, by a mere handful of
men (they knew our strength); they were in such a rage we
expected every moment they would turn upon us defenceless
prisoners.
The attacking columns of the enemy numbered thirty thousand
men, and their supports and reserves thirty thousand more.
These columns were in such a state of disorder from the
repeated vehement charges of the British that they had not
the slightest chance of victory. They were nothing more nor
less than a confused and enraged mob. Our men, and the
French, who had come up to our assistance, continued pouring
volley after volley into them, and some of our heavy siege
guns were ploughing roads through them. Their loss at this
stage of the battle was enormous. Their massive columns of
supports and reserves were mowed down wholesale, until the
dead lay in heaps. When the retreat of this confused and
enraged Muscovite mob commenced we expected every moment to
be despatched by these well-thrashed drunken brutes. They
carried as many of their wounded away as possible. Noticing
the confusion all round, the captain of the 23rd passed the
word for us to make a dash for our liberty, saying, "We can
but die, my boys." We instantly got on the alert, but our
good intentions were stopped. We were then doubly guarded,
and hurried from the field. The retreat was in no formation,
but a complete rabble, our huge Lancaster guns cutting lanes
through them. There was but one column we saw leave the
field in anything like order. We were a little on their
flank, when an officer of the leading company perceived us.
He came over to us and addressed us in good English as
follows, "Well, Englishmen, if you are prisoners, there is
one consolation for you, you have given us a sound good
thrashing to-day," and then rejoined his company. As soon as
he left, our captain said, "Men, I believe that officer to
be an English gentleman serving in the Russian army, and is
delighted his countrymen have gained such a glorious
victory." The enemy captured no more prisoners, except a few
wounded who escaped being bayoneted, and those were placed
in carts with other wounded. I was one of those appointed to
look after the poor wounded. My care was a Guardsman, shot
under the left breast, passing out under the left shoulder
blade; the poor fellow was bleeding inwardly, and I had to
keep him in a sitting position. We were at this time in the
centre of the retiring mass, when a wounded Russian drummer
tried to get into the cart, and, in endeavouring to do so,
placed his arm on the wounded knee of one of the men of the
47th whose knee-cap had been shot away. He instantly struck
the wounded Russian under the chin and sent him headlong
amongst his retiring comrades. We then made sure that we
should be all bayoneted; but no, all the pluck and vodkie
was fairly thrashed out of them. In crossing to the north
side of Sebastopol on bridges of boats, the enemy suffered
dreadfully. Our heavy siege guns mowed them down wholesale.
How we escaped was a miracle. Our officer spoke to some of
the Russian officers about our wounded, and one in
particular he wished a doctor to see at once, viz., the
Guardsman. Our officer's request was quickly attended to; a
doctor dressed the poor fellow's wound, passing a long piece
of lint through the wound right through his body, causing
the blood to flow outwards, not inwards. After the doctor
had finished dressing the poor fellow, he said to our
officer in French, "I thought the Russians were soldiers,
but I never witnessed anything like this in the Russian
army; I really believe an Englishman would bear to be cut to
pieces and show no symptoms of pain." This poor fellow
during the operation did not show the slightest symptom of
pain.
Our wounded were sent into hospital in Sebastopol; not one
of them left there alive, at least we never heard of them
again. The whole of the night after the battle the handful
of prisoners (thirty) were marched through their camp from
regiment to regiment, and from one division to another, to
exhibit to their troops what a great capture they had made.
We had a little kindness showed us by these heathen
Muscovites; they brought us some of their vodkie, but
nothing to eat, which we wanted most. We had had nothing to
eat up to the present. Next day we were placed in Fort Paul,
and kept there three days. It was not till the third day,
the 8th, that we received anything to eat. On the second day
the two Grand Dukes visited us, and questioned us respecting
our army, trying to pump all they could out of us. But the
sucker was dry. An old General said, "You think to deceive
us, but we can tell even to the conversation that takes
place in your tents." When they had done questioning us, the
two Grand Dukes Constantine and St. Michael addressed us as
follows, "We must admit that England is possessed of the
finest infantry in Europe, but we do not care for your
cavalry or artillery;" and informed us that we should next
day commence our march to the place appointed for us while
we were their prisoners, which place was about 1500 miles
from Sebastopol; that we should find the people of the
country very hospitable; also that we were classified,--the
English first-class prisoners, French second, Turks third;
and would receive allowance for support accordingly. Before
they left us we reported that we had had nothing to eat
since taken. They said that we should have something at
once, and gave instructions accordingly, but, nevertheless,
we did not receive any till next day. We commenced this long
and dreary march under great disadvantage, and with a
Russian winter to contend against. We were very poorly clad,
our clothing and boots nearly worn out, working in the
trenches night and day, and our hardships were terrible to
relate. We were allowed ten kopecks daily, which is equal to
fourpence. Every article of food in Russia is very cheap,
but they imposed on us, as we did not know the language,
therefore we were nearly starved. Our first halt was at
Peracoff; here we remained a few days, and then proceeded to
Simperopol. We had a few days halt here, and were joined by
thirty Turks, taken at Balaclava. The whole of us here
received one sheepskin coat and one pair of long boots, the
only articles of clothing given to us whilst we were
prisoners until the day of our exchange, when we received an
overcoat and cap, similar to those worn by their infantry.
We marched from Simperopol with a gang of convicts for
Siberia. It was pitiful to see the way they were treated.
They were classified according to crime. Some had the whole
of their hair shaved off the front part of the head, the
remainder left long; others the right half of the head
shaved, some the left half shaved, and others the back part
of the head. All wore irons on their legs, male and female.
They were placed in two ranks at three paces apart. A long
chain was placed between them, one rank handcuffed by the
right hand to this chain, the other rank by the left. Each
of the prisoners had a certain number of lashes to receive
annually during the term of imprisonment, of which they
received a number daily before they marched. We witnessed
this punishment. Every morning the culprit was placed face
downwards on the ground, two soldiers held him or her whilst
another administered the punishment with birch rods tied
together. We often pitied them this long march, with the
irons cutting to the very bone; the blood marking the prints
in the snow. These poor creatures, we were told, scarcely
ever reach their destination. In every large town we picked
up fresh convicts, whilst others were left behind to die. I
often thanked God that I was born under the British flag.
Every day's march was very nearly alike, except when
entering large towns. Our guard sent word ahead to acquaint
the inhabitants about the time of our arrival, and we were
met at the entrance to the town by large crowds of people;
some of whom spit at us and called us English dogs. I must
say that the people who offered these insults to us were of
the poor and ignorant class. The better class treated us
with much civility, and visited us in prison after our
arrival, and obtained permission from the Governor to take
us out to dine with them. The gentry and middle class
admired the English prisoners for their fine military
bearing, and often compared us with their own slovenly
soldiers.
We continued our march day after day, till we arrived at
their University town, Kharcoff, a magnificent place with
any number of colleges. We had a week's halt here, and were
visited by many of our own country people and French people,
all in good positions. Some of them were professors of
languages in the colleges. We were out visiting daily; we
likewise received a great many presents from our people, and
from French and Russian gentry, in the shape of warm
clothing, woollen and leather gloves, tea, and sugar, and a
few roubles each. We had completed 500 miles, and during
that long march seldom had a hot meal. This we mentioned to
the Governor of Kharcoff prison. He asked us what our usual
meals consisted of. We told him bread and butter. "Well," he
said, "You can have a change; have butter and bread to-day,
and bread and butter to-morrow." This was all the pity we
got from this gentleman. We received good news here. It got
to the knowledge of our Government that we were badly off,
and nearly starving with the small amount allowed us to live
upon. Our Government requested the Emperor to raise our
allowance to twenty kopeks daily--this is equal to
eightpence--and we were usually paid this allowance seven
days in advance. We had now plenty of food, and picking up a
little of their language, were able to make our purchases
without being imposed upon; but the cold at night was
something terrible. We were allowed no covering of any
sort, and nothing but our wet clothing to lie down in.
Sometimes a little wet straw would be thrown in to keep us
from the bare ground, after a long fatiguing march. Often
the snow would be two or three feet deep. We left a number
of men behind in towns where there would be a hospital,
frost-bitten. Shortly after leaving Kharcoff, one day our
march was thirty versts (a verst is three-quarters of a mile
English). On the morning before starting we were paid our
seven days' allowance. We had completed half the distance,
when an occurrence happened which was near the cause of us
all visiting Siberia with our chain gang. There was what we
call a half-way house here, and not another house within
three versts. Our guard acquainted us of this, and told us
we could have anything we wanted in the way of vodkie. We
were delighted at this, for the snow at the time was over
two feet deep, and hot grog was quite acceptable. The whole
of the prisoners, Turks excepted, had refreshments, the
guards receiving the same at our (the English) expense. All
went as merry as a marriage bell till the French did not
want to stop any longer, but push on, and complete the
journey. Our guard did not feel inclined to do so, and we
were of their opinion. The French would persist in marching,
and made a start to go by themselves. The guard would not
allow them till all marched together, and struck one of the
French on the head with the butt end of his rifle, knocking
him down. Although we were on good terms with the guard, we
could not see our allies, the French, beaten; so at it we
went, a regular hand to hand fight, the Turks remaining
quietly looking on. The guard used their rifles and bayonets
freely, we and the French our sticks. We disarmed our guard,
and broke their rifles and bayonets, after giving them a
good thrashing. Both sides had their casualties: one
Frenchman, three English, and seven Russians had to be taken
to the next town in carts, and placed in hospital. One
Russian was very badly wounded, his jaw-bone being broken.
Had we been near a village not one of us would have told the
tale. Another lucky thing for us was that the guard had sent
on their ammunition with their knapsacks. The surrounding
villagers had to be summoned to escort us to the next town,
armed with every description of weapon they could lay their
hands upon, such as pitchforks, reap-hooks, scythes, &c.
(This was the result of indulging in vodkie.) The next day
the affair was investigated by a Russian officer or
magistrate. After hearing the guard's statement, he told us
we should all be sent to Siberia; but we turned the tables
on the guard. One of the French asked the officer if he
spoke French, and being answered in the affirmative, the
Frenchman explained all truthfully as above quoted, and the
guard came off second best. The magistrate, when in
possession of the true facts, had the whole of the guard
placed in irons, and sent back under escort whence they
came.
We had then a fresh escort, commanded by an officer, but
were deprived of our sticks for the remainder of the march,
as they considered us dangerous even with that weapon. The
weather was now getting more severe every day, which
contributed a great deal to our hardships, having often to
face a blinding, drifting snow all day, and then lie down in
our frozen clothing. We still continued to receive great
kindness from the better class of Russians. In due course we
arrived in Veronidge, a distance of 1,500 miles from
Sebastopol. We remained here until our exchange took place.
We were all located in a large house expressly taken for our
quarters. A guard mounted daily over us, and we were allowed
our liberty through the town, but had to be in our quarters
at night. We had no work to do, and the gentlefolk of
Veronidge vied with each other in having us at their homes
to eat and sup with them. I must say that we were very
comfortable here until bed time came. We had no bedding of
any sort except a little straw, and our clothing was
nothing but a bundle of rags. We were not very long here
before we were supplied with a good suit of uniform by our
countrmen, residents in Russia. The clothing was nearly a
_fac-simile_ of our own. Our men now looked quite smart with
this new rig-out, and the inhabitants of the town seemed to
admire us. We were not long before each of us had his
sweetheart. After a time another party of English prisoners
arrived, men who had recovered from sickness, who had been
left behind on the road. Of course we must repair to a
public-house to have a meeting glass. It was night time when
four of us went in to enjoy ourselves, all peaceably
inclined. We found the house full of Russian soldiers. We
had only partaken of one glass when they insulted and struck
us, but the white feather was not to be shown here any more
than on former occasions, no matter what their strength
might be. As soon as the Russians commenced the disturbance
one of our men extinguished the lights: this added greatly
to our advantage, as the enemy were numerous, and pitched
into each other in the darkness. Our small party being equal
to the occasion, one of them broke up a sleigh (a cart
without wheels). I got possession of a portion of this and
my comrades the remainder, which we used in good style, and
soon cleared the house; upon our opponents gaining the
street others quickly came to their assistance. One of them
made a thrust at me with a sword. I warded it off my head,
but received a wound in the right hand. The fellow who
delivered the cut the next moment was biting the dust. I was
as unfortunate here as at Inkermann--was taken prisoner, and
conveyed to the police-station, covered with blood from my
own wound, as well as that of our adversaries. Next morning
I looked much like a man just coming out of a
slaughter-yard. I was taken before the magistrates just as I
was, not being allowed to wash. The court was well filled
with military officers. I had not the slightest knowledge
what the charge preferred against me was, being ignorant of
their language. The magistrate believed every word of the
witnesses against me, left his seat on the bench, came
forward to me, and was in the act of slapping my face (a
usual custom with their own prisoners), when I at once
placed myself in position to resist it (a fighting attitude,
English style). This took the old gentleman by surprise, and
set the whole court in roars of laughter, the military
officers in particular. He retired a few paces, cursing and
swearing at me, and again came forward to strike me. I again
placed myself in defence; the laughter was greater than
before. He never expected this from a prisoner. He had been
used to despotic authority with his own people. He
immediately sentenced me to seven days' imprisonment with
black bread and water, and 500 lashes at the expiration of
my imprisonment. I had done six days of it, when,
fortunately for me, a General Officer was sent from the
Emperor Nicholas to visit the prisoners, and to ascertain if
we were treated according to his instructions. I was brought
out of my cell to muster with the remainder, to show the
number the authorities were issuing pay for. There is no
trust to be placed in any Russian in authority; they rob
each other from the highest to the lowest. This state of
things is pretty well known, but through their despotic laws
cannot be stopped. (The Emperor Nicholas once said to an
English nobleman, he believed he was the only honest man in
Russia.) The General asked us several questions as to the
amount of pay we received, and if we received it regularly,
and how we were treated by the authorities. I took a pace to
my front and saluted him in English military style, which
took his fancy, as the salute of the Russian soldier is to
stand cap in hand when addressing an officer. I asked him if
he would allow me to have a word or two with him, which was
at once granted. I explained what had occurred, and how I
was treated by the very gentleman standing by his side, and
also the sentence he passed upon me, that I had one day more
to finish my confinement on black bread and water, when I
should receive the corporal punishment of 500 lashes. The
officer seemed delighted with my explanation, and the
straightforward manner in which I told him everything. He at
once placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, "You are a
fine fellow, you are a good soldier; I remit the remainder
of your punishment; you are released, join your comrades." I
have not the slightest doubt that the 500 lashes would have
killed me. This is one instance of the severity of their
despotic laws.
One day on going to the bazaar, or market, with a comrade of
my own regiment, we had to pass through a large square, and
in this were mustered 15,000 men, new levies to join the
army in the Crimea. Clergymen were present blessing their
new colours, and also giving them their blessing previous to
marching. One of the soldiers saluted my comrade with the
compliments of the day, which he politely returned. Another
of them deliberately spit in his face, calling him an
"English dog." The words were hardly uttered by him when my
comrade, a powerfully built man, knocked the fellow down
like a bullock in their midst. We were instantly surrounded
by numbers of them, and would soon have been made short work
of only for the timely interference of an officer, who had
witnessed the whole. This officer, with sword drawn, stepped
in between us and them, and ordered them to stand back and
clear the way for us to pass, saying at the same time to my
comrade (malidates), "You are a fine fellow." Instances like
this show plainly, no matter how British soldiers are
situated, that indomitable pluck cannot be stamped out of
them. During our stay in Veronidge a police officer was
appointed our paymaster. He was very irregular in issuing
our pay or allowance. On one occasion he left us fourteen
days in arrear. The consequence was we were in distress. We
all marched in military order to his quarters and formed in
line in front of his house. When he observed us he made his
appearance at his front door, enquiring our business there,
and came forward towards the right of the line. A tall,
powerfully built Irishman, belonging to the 4th R. I.
Dragoon Guards, stood on the extreme right, seemingly taking
very little notice of what was going on, as we had appointed
one to make our complaint. He walked straight up to this
dragoon, and gave him a slap in the face. The blow was no
sooner delivered than the dragoon returned the compliment
with a straight one from the shoulder. He fell as if he had
a kick from a horse. In an instant a number of police rushed
forward to arrest the dragoon, but we were equal to the
occasion, and would not allow him to be arrested. This
caused the affair to be officially reported and duly
investigated, when it was proved the police officer was at
fault. They cancelled his appointment, and severely
reprimanded him; and also issued a ukase (a special order
from the Czar) that no Russian officer was in future to
attempt to strike an English soldier, as it was not a custom
in the English army for officers to strike their men; and
the Russian officer that struck an Englishman must put up
with the consequence. This order had the desired effect, for
they never attempted it after this. The daily papers took it
up, it ran thus, "the French are too polite to kick up a
row, the Turks too frightened, but the English are neither
one or the other. Whenever they think they are insulted or
imposed upon, they resent it in grand style, no matter the
odds against them." We were informed by an English gentleman
of an occurrence that took place in St. Petersburg, with one
of our officers, a prisoner of war, who was in company with
a Russian gentleman of rank, walking in the streets, when he
was met by a Russian noble, who grossly insulted him, and
spit in his face. It was at once resented in true English
style; our officer's friend made it known to the Czar, who
had this brave noble summoned before him. The Czar said, "I
am informed you very much dislike the English, that you have
already given proof of the same, by insulting an English
officer and gentleman. I require such people as you; you
shall have a good opportunity of giving vent to your
dislike, you will be deprived of rank, all your property
confiscated, and join immediately our army at Sebastopol, as
a private soldier." This is another instance of their
despotic laws. We might well say, "O! England with all thy
faults I love thee still." After a few months stay at
Veronidge, we were visited a second time by an officer of
rank from St. Petersburg. He informed us that our exchange
had been arranged, and that we should start next day for
Odessa. The names of all the prisoners were called over, and
those cowardly ruffians called deserters, separated from the
men lawfully taken in action. Addressing the latter, he
said, "I am commissioned by our Government to inform you,
that any who wish to remain can do so; all who remain in our
country will receive two years' pay at the same rate as you
receive now, a piece of ground will be given you, and house
rent free for your lives; should you marry and have children
they will be all free subjects of Russia." After coaxing us
a little time, he said, "Step to the front all who wish to
remain in Russia." I am proud to say not a man embraced the
offer. He next addressed the deserters, informing them that
they were at liberty to return to their own people. At the
same time he reminded them of the severity of the English
martial law against deserters. "It is death, as no doubt you
are aware. When peace is settled, you will be sent to some
country where your own language is spoken; you will not be
allowed to remain in Russia; you are traitors to your own
country, and no ornament to ours." Two of the deserters
stepped to the front, and expressed a wish to return to
their own army. He again reminded them of the consequence.
One man said he did not care, that he would sooner be blown
away from the guns of his own army than stay a day longer in
their d----d country. The other man was of the same opinion.
These two men returned with us, and strange to say neither
of them were deserters, but out of their lines skirmishing
for grog, lost their way and got nabbed by the enemy's
outposts, but through some mistake of the Russians were
returned as deserters. The punishment awarded them was, on
rejoining, to forfeit their pay and service whilst in the
hands of the Russians. We did not march this time, but were
conveyed in cars covering from ninety to one hundred miles
per diem, changing horses every twenty-five miles. We were
not long before we arrived at Odessa; there were ninety of
us all told, but only fifty fighting men, the remainder
being camp followers. But the crafty Muscovite returned them
all as English soldiers and exchanged as such. We had to
remain a few days in Odessa for a ship to receive us. One
morning whilst there, the combined fleets of England and
France assembled before the town, and a small steamer with a
flag of truce put off from the fleet. She was met by one
from Odessa also bearing a truce; this was to give notice to
the authorities that the Allied fleets would open fire on
the town next morning. When this information was announced
to the inhabitants, I never shall forget the confusion that
followed, old and young, rich and poor, male and female,
carrying their movable property inland, out of the range of
fire. The whole town was lighted up with torch lights, to
enable the soldiers and press-gang to erect barricades in
the streets. The authorities at Odessa at once wired to
Kinburn for assistance. A strong force was at once put in
motion from that garrison, which was three days' march from
the threatened town. Next morning not a ship of war was to
be seen; all disappeared during the night. The force from
Kinburn had just got half way when the bombarding of that
town could be distinctly heard. This was a capital game of
war-chess by the Allied fleets. They had no intention of
bombarding Odessa from the first, British and French capital
being largely invested there, but it had the desired effect
of weakening the Kinburn garrison. After bombarding the
forts in grand style for a couple of hours, troops were
landed and the garrison surrendered. Next day the Agamemnon
came to Odessa for us in all the majesty of war, when we
were duly handed over, and right royally did these Trafalgar
Lambs and Nile Chickens treat us. She at once steamed off to
Kemish Bay and landed us, where we were directed to find our
respective regiments, and once more faced the enemy till the
conclusion of the war. I need hardly say we got a warm
reception from all ranks on rejoining from those who had
escaped the carnage of war during our absence from the
front.
JAMES WALSH,
Sergeant, 7th Royal Fusiliers.
AWFUL EXPLOSION IN THE CAMP.
LIEUT. HOPE AND THE 7TH FUSILIERS.
But I must proceed. We were, as I have said, now very comfortable. Sir
W. Codrington, the former commander of the First Brigade of the Light
Division, was appointed our Commander-in-chief in the beginning of
November, 1855. Sir William had no sooner assumed the command than a
terrible catastrophe occurred, that for a time threatened to destroy the
whole of the old Light Division. About 3·30 p.m. on the 14th November,
our camp was startled by a terrible explosion close to the Fusiliers'
Hospital. We could not conceive what was up, but all at once, shot,
shell, grape, canister, &c., were sent flying in all directions. One of
the principal magazines in the French artillery park, just in rear of
us, had exploded. Some hundreds of guns that had been captured from the
enemy--some loaded with shot, some with shell, some with grape, and
pointed in all directions--had been fired by the heat or the concussion,
sending death and destruction all around for upwards of a mile. Wounded
men were killed as they lay, and others wounded again. Some 500 shell
were up in the air at one time, and about 60,000 ball cartridges were
flying about the camp like hail. Huts were smashed to pieces and tents
blown into the air. A number of poor fellows were so shattered that we
could not tell who they were, or what regiment they belonged to. Our
Allies suffered heavily. Their loss was 19 officers, and nearly 400
non-commissioned officers and men killed and wounded. Our loss, in a few
seconds, was 5 officers and 116 non-commissioned officers and men. It
was truly a horrible scene--men going about with baskets or skeps,
picking up the remains of their comrades who had been blown to atoms.
But, even in the midst of all this, men could be found ready to face
almost certain death. A large windmill close by had been converted into
a powder magazine by our people. Close upon 200 tons of powder and other
explosives were lodged in it; the roof, doors, and windows were blown
in, and the contents thus exposed, with tons of powder going off, and
hundreds of rockets flying in all directions. The peril was imminent.
Had one spark dropped into the mill, or had one of the fiery rockets
fallen or burnt into it, another explosion would have ensued, and all
within a radius of at least half a mile must have been destroyed. In the
midst of the excitement, General Straubenzee exclaimed: "If the mill
goes up, all is lost." Then, he called, in a voice of thunder, for
volunteers from the 7th Royal Fusiliers, for an enterprise more
hazardous than a forlorn hope--to climb the walls of the powder mill,
and to cover it with tarpaulins and wet blankets. "It must be done, or
all is lost!" Lieutenant Hope, and 25 men of the Fusiliers, immediately
stepped to the front, and the gallant Lieutenant led his Fusiliers up to
the top of the mill and covered it; while another party, consisting of
men of the 34th regiment, the 2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade, and
Artillerymen, courageously volunteered to block up the doors and windows
with sandbags. Lieutenant Hope was presented with the Victoria Cross for
his conduct,--and he deserved it. But surely every man of that noble
band ought to have had something, if not the Cross! Had the mill gone
up, our hospital, huts, and marquees, would have been destroyed, with
every wounded and unwounded man in or near them, as we were only about
300 yards from the scene. As it was, we lost several men in killed and
wounded, and would probably have lost many more, but for the fact that
the greater portion were out on fatigue some three miles away. One man
who has within the last few years made himself famous was dangerously
wounded that day--Lieutenant F. C. Roberts, now Lieutenant General Sir
F. C. Roberts, V.C. Thank God, I escaped once more, although it seemed
as if all would have been destroyed. Our camping ground was covered with
fragments of shell, and musket balls lay about in thousands. The hut
that I should most likely have been in, had I not been in hospital, was
blown to pieces with shell, the only man in it being dangerously
wounded.
* * * * *
Once more I wrote home as follows:--
Camp before the Ruins of Sebastopol,
26th December, 1855.
My Dear Parents,
Just a few lines from this cold, bleak corner once more. I
am happy to inform you that, thanks to the good people at
home, we had a good day yesterday; Christmas was kept up in
camp in grand style, with plenty of good beef and pudding,
and a good fire or two in our huts; the day passed off very
comfortably, the only drawback being that both the geese
intended for my sub-division of the company, were walked off
with by some hungry Frenchman--the Zouaves got the credit of
it. I for one hope they did them good, as we had plenty to
eat without them. It's bitterly cold, but we have all got
plenty of warm clothing and waterproofs, and can almost bid
defiance even to a Crimean winter. If last year we had only
had half what we now have, many an aching heart at home
would be rejoicing, for men whose bones are now rotting in
the valley of Death, would most likely have been with us.
Our men look well and cheerful. We have got all sorts of
things out of the town, and are making ourselves quite at
home; the enemy treat us now and again to a long ranger,
just to let us know, I suppose, that we did not kill them
all on the 8th September. I have done no duty yet, am still
convalescent, my arm is in a sling and so is my head, but I
am happy to inform you that I am getting on capitally, I
must not walk about much, as it's so slippery. There is any
amount of life in the camp, and plenty of books to read; a
great number of the men who have been wounded keep returning
to their duty, and I do believe in the spring we shall march
to the north side the Russians to bleed, that is, if they do
not get out of the way. Our men are kept well in exercise,
marching out two or three times a week, from ten to fifteen
miles at a time; it would amuse you or any one else, to see
our men returning to camp with icicles, some of them six or
seven inches long, hanging to their beards and moustaches,
but yet we have capital health. I have had two or three
attempts at this letter. I hope you will be able to make out
this scrawl. My hand, I am sorry to inform you, is very
painful just now; the wounds in my head are rapidly healing.
I hope you will not forget me at the Throne of Grace. I must
now conclude,
Believe me ever, Dear Parents,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.
A FEW FACTS.
The following facts may be of interest. According to the statement of
one in high position just after the war was over, Russia lost
half-a-million of men by sword, sickness, and fatigue, in forced marches
through the inhospitable regions they had to traverse. The expense of
the war that England had to bear, up to February, 1856, exceeded sixty
millions sterling; the British had to convey nearly the whole of the
French and Sardinian Armies to and fro, and nearly 400,000 tons of
military stores. Without our transports our Allies would have been
powerless--and yet our own men were dying like rotten sheep for the want
of a few tents! The Turks might well say afterwards that our Government
looked to others and forgot their own! It was not the fault of the
Government, but there was a great deal too much red tape. If men were
dying by wholesale, and the requisition for stores or necessaries was
not properly made out, or in accordance with some intricate form that
some old maid had been driven nearly mad in trying to bring out during
the forty years' peace, the articles, it mattered not what they were,
could not be had; "the return was incorrectly filled up," the men that
would go anywhere and do any thing might die! The cold was so bitter
that one could hardly feel the pen, but the return must be correct or no
stores would be sent! Thousands of tons of food, clothing, blankets, and
everything that could be thought of by a kind-hearted people at home,
were, as I have stated in an earlier chapter, lying rotting at
Balaclava, and could not be brought up to the front, for the want of a
few hundred mules, that could be procured in Asia Minor and elsewhere
for about £5 each. But I will leave this painful subject, as the deeper
we go into it, the more offensive it becomes.
AFTER THE PEACE.
After peace negotiations had been settled, the Russians, our late
enemies, came into our camp in droves, and we entertained them as
friends, regaling them with the best that our stores could produce. The
exchange of prisoners had taken place, and some of our men who had been
in Russian hands for upwards of twelve months, proved themselves very
useful as interpreters. Our old enemies made themselves quite at home,
walking about, arm in arm, with the very men they had so often
confronted in deadly combat. The French and the Russians, however, did
not get on well together; and whenever they were under the influence of
drink this was manifest, for they often exchanged blows, and our people
had to rush in and separate them. On two or three occasions a party of
Russian sergeants, numbering from twelve to twenty, dined with us, and
seemed delighted to think we were once more friends. We were repeatedly
invited over to their camp to spend a day with them, and our
non-commissioned officers and men went in numbers, and were hospitably
entertained. On one occasion a wag of a sergeant of ours got up a party
of some twenty-five non-commissioned officers (all picked men) from
various regiments of the Light Division--not a man under six feet. We
obtained permission from our respective commanding officers, met at the
place of rendezvous, and away we started. We quietly walked into
Sebastopol, crossed the harbour, and were welcomed by a party, who had
on more than one occasion dined in our mess. We were taken first to Fort
Constantine, and shown all over that noble structure, and from thence to
other fortifications. All ranks seemed to vie with each other in showing
us attention. The whole of our party had on their breasts the Crimean
medal with three clasps, viz., Alma, Inkermann, and Sebastopol, which
seemed to afford much attraction to all ranks, and, as far as we could
see, the higher in rank the more courteous they were towards us. We all
dined together, on the best the camp could afford. The greatest drawback
was that we had not a sufficient number of interpreters. After we had
dined there was a little speech-making, and many kind things were said,
one half of which we did not understand. Our leader proposed the health
of their Emperor, which was received with applause, and drunk with three
times three, all standing uncovered. After a short time the chief of
our hosts proposed the health of Her Most Gracious Majesty, which was
drunk with tremendous applause. As we were about to resume our seats,
some four or five French sergeants walked in, which seemed to have a
very happy effect. After any amount of embracing and kissing, they were
requested to take their seats, and make themselves at home. The health
of the Emperor Napoleon was now proposed, and responded to in flowing
glasses, with cheers that could be heard for a mile. Some two or three
Russian officers entered, one of them a very venerable-looking
gentleman. He shook hands all round, and embraced one of our party,
expressing a hope that we should never again meet as foes, and that
those who made the quarrels might do the fighting. A number of our party
at once surrounded the old gentleman. He eyed us from head to foot and
inquired what Division we belonged to; and when it was explained to him
that we all belonged to the Light Division, it seemed to tickle him, for
he wanted to know, if we were specimens of the Light, what the Heavies
were like--several of our party being considerably over six feet, and
stout in proportion. The old gentleman then proposed the health of the
Light Division, which was responded to, and drunk with tremendous
cheering. After a time he inquired about the regiment that rode grey
horses,[12] and what they were, "for," said he, with his eyes flashing,
"they are noble fellows, and I should like to embrace one of them." He
took but little notice of the French. After embracing some eight or ten
of our party (the writer being one of them) he took his leave. He had
not been gone more than half-an-hour, when two men brought up a case of
brandy from the old general (for that was his rank), with a note
requesting that we would drink the Emperor's health, and his also, if
we thought him worthy--a request that was, I need not say, at once
complied with. Before we parted we found it required no small amount of
generalship to keep ourselves sober; for, had we drunk one quarter of
what they wanted us to do, we should not have slept with the Light
Division that night. As it was, however, we parted with our friends on
the best of terms, perfectly sober, they coming down to the water's edge
with us; and after much embracing we jumped into our boats, bidding them
farewell, and asking them to come and see us whenever they pleased.
Shortly after this we had a review in our camp on a grand scale before
Prince Gortschakoff. With French, English, Sardinians, and Turks, we
mustered nearly 300,000 men. It took us from morning till late at night
to march past. It was a grand sight. As far as the Light Division was
concerned we were nearly up to our full strength--not made up with boys,
but with men who had been frequently wounded, but had recovered, and
returned to their duty--and went by the Prince with trailed arms, at a
swinging pace, to the tune of "Ninety-five--I'm Ninety-five." This was
one of the greatest military sights that has been beheld during the
present century.
THE RUSSIAN PRIEST'S WIFE.
In Russia it is a common mode of expression to say: "As
happy as a priest's wife." The reason why she is so happy is
because her husband's position depends upon her. If she
dies, he is deposed and becomes a layman, and his property
is taken away from him and distributed, half to his children
and half to the Government. This dreadful contingency makes
the Russian priest careful to get a healthy wife if he can,
and to take extraordinary good care of her after he has
secured her. He waits upon her in the most abject way. She
must never get her feet wet, and she is petted and put in
hot blankets if she has so much as a cold in the head. It is
the greatest possible good fortune for a girl to marry a
priest--infinitely better than to be the wife of a noble.
THE ROYAL FUSILIERS.
We will claim for this noble regiment the honour of being second to
none--either in the field for its dashing intrepidity, or in quarters
for its steady, soldier-like qualities. It is one of the most famous
regiments in the British army. It has fought and conquered in all
quarters of the globe, and has proved that neither the storms of autumn,
the snows of winter, nor the heat of an Indian summer--that neither the
sword nor the bayonet, nor musketry fire, can subdue them. Napier might
well call them "the astonishing infantry." It has traditions of glory
which inspire and maintain that _esprit de corps_ so valuable in the
hour of peril--so animating in the crisis of battle. The Royal Fusiliers
was raised in June, 1685, as an ordnance regiment, not from any
particular county, but from every part of the United Kingdom. Some of
the noblest sons of Albion and Erin's Isle have served in its ranks, and
the haughtiest sons of Adam's race have had to bow before them, and give
up the palm to the matchless Fusiliers.
We find that Lord George Dartmouth was appointed its first colonel; its
second was no other than the brave and talented nobleman, the Duke of
Marlborough, who made the French to quail before him on field after
field. Its third colonel was Lord George Hamilton. And on the 9th of
April, 1789, His Royal Highness Prince Edward, Duke of Kent (Her Most
Gracious Majesty's father) was appointed its commander. The following
pages will show that his Royal Highness was a soldier of no mean sort,
and his courage knew no bounds.
In their maiden fight with the French (25th August, 1689) the regiment
evinced firmness and intrepidity, for they rolled the enemy up in a
masterly style, killing some 2000 of the frog-eaters. King William was
well satisfied with the conduct of his Fusiliers. This was the first
field, but not the last, on which they well stamped their initials upon
the French. On the field of Steenkirk (24th July, 1692) they again
confronted the foe, and taught the French to respect our flag. On the
field of Landen (19th July, 1693) they again displayed the stern valour
of British soldiers. Their loss was heavy, but they proved that they
were worth their title, and taught the French such a lesson that they
did not forget it for some time to come. In the battles following they
proved by their contempt of danger, when the honour of the nation was at
stake, that they were determined to overcome all difficulties or perish
in the attempt. And, reader, when a fine body of men have so made up
their minds, it is better to build a bridge of gold for them to pass
over than to try and stop them.
At the siege of Nemur, in 1695, the old corps fought with desperation.
The French here got a taste, and a good taste too, of what they were
destined to have plenty from this dashing corps, viz., the bayonet. We
next find them at Vigo, in 1702, dressing the Spaniards down, and they
did it well. In 1703 we find the old regiment afloat, acting with the
fleet; but the enemy kept out of their way. Again, we find the Fusiliers
defending the deadly breach at Lerida, in 1707, with admirable courage.
Once more we find the gallant old regiment afloat, acting as marines.
They were in the action with the French fleet on the 20th May, 1756, and
proved that they could fight for the honour of old England on the raging
billows as well as on land. We next find them, in 1775, defending
Quebec, and repulsing the Americans with a terrible slaughter. We also
find them on a number of battle fields against the Americans, ever
prompt in performing their duty, throughout the unfortunate War of
Independence.
The Fusiliers again were in collision with their old hereditary enemy,
the French, in March, 1794, at Martinique, commanded by His Royal
Highness the Duke of Kent. The old regiment went at the enemy in
masterly style. His Royal Highness addressed the storming column as
follows: "Grenadiers, this is St. Patrick's Day. The English will do
their duty in compliment to the Irish, and the Irish in compliment to
the Saint. Forward, Grenadiers!" And away went the Fusiliers. And a
number of poor Gauls paid the penalty for opposing such a dashing body
of men. During the five years that His Royal Highness was in command of
the Fusiliers, no fewer than eight non-commissioned officers were
rewarded with commissions, as suitable acknowledgments for meritorious
service. His Highness endeared his name to the grateful remembrances of
both officers and men.
The Fusiliers were next employed at Copenhagen, in 1807. Napoleon's
plans had been frustrated by the destruction of his fleets at the Nile
and Trafalgar, by the immortal Nelson, and the Corsican tyrant was
determined, if possible, to obtain possession of the Danish fleet to
help to carry out his plans. But our Government were not to be caught
napping; a strong fleet and a nice little land force was despatched, and
demanded the whole of the Danish fleet, by treaty or by force. The brave
Danes fought for it, and lost all--"except their honour;" and the
Fusiliers returned to England with the victorious fleet.
We will now trace the gallant old Fusiliers through one of the brightest
pages in the history of our dear old isle--the Peninsular War. No
heavier effort had been made by our army since the days of Marlborough.
Our noble Jack Tars had carried all before them, and their gallant deeds
resounded throughout the world. All were compelled to admire. But the
time was now approaching when the matchless "thin red line" taught
Europe to beware; for all the brave sons of Albion and Erin's Isle were
not yet afloat. The proud and haughty Imperial Guards had stood as
conquerors on field after field, and had polluted every capital in
Europe except ours. But the usurper met his match for the first time on
a grand scale on the 27th and 28th July, 1809, on the bloody field of
Talavera; and the so-called "invincible pets of a tiger" were, so to
speak, lifted or pitchforked from the field by this dashing old corps.
The old "second-to-none" boys took the conceit out of the haughty
legions of Napoleon, and captured seven guns from them; and all the
attempts of the enemy to re-take them were in vain. The bayonet was used
with terrible effect, and the guns remained in the hands of the
Fusiliers. Wellington, with the eye of an eagle, watched the desperate
fighting, and thanked the Fusiliers on the field for their conduct.
The next field on which the Fusiliers made the acquaintance of the
French was that of Busaco (27th September, 1810)--"Grim Busaco's iron
ridge," as Napier, the military historian, terms it. Here the enemy were
driven from crag to crag and rock to rock, and the "thin red line"
followed them up. All the regiments engaged seemed to take delight in
thrashing the invincibility out of the boasting enemy. The grim-faced
old veterans had been victorious on the fields of Austerlitz, Jena,
Wagram, and Eylan, and had never once been defeated; but they had now
met their match, and more than their match, in the "contemptible" sons
of Albion. The columns of attack came rushing forward with such
impetuosity that it appeared impossible to stop them; but they were all
driven back with fearful slaughter, and the Fusiliers had a good hand in
the pie. Thus ended the vain boasting of the French that they would
drive all the English leopards into the sea. So they would if weight of
numbers could have done it; but that nasty piece of cold steel was in
the way, and in the hands of men who might die, but who had a strong
objection to a watery grave; and at the close of the desperate fight the
Fusiliers were one of the regiments that stood triumphant on that grim
rocky ridge. About this time the 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers joined the
army from America, and the famous Fusilier Brigade was formed, which
was destined to shake the bullies of the continent out of their boots,
and play "Rule Britannia" on the field. The Fusiliers were engaged in a
number of minor affairs about this time. Our conquering commander was
determined, after the fall of Ciudad Rodrigo, to wrench Badajoz from the
hands of the enemy, and the Fusiliers assembled under its walls. But
Marshal Soult was not asleep, and a strong army under that crafty
commander flew to the rescue of the brave General Phillipon, and Marshal
Beresford was compelled to raise the siege, and retire to the heights of
Albuera--a name that shortly afterwards resounded from one end of Europe
to the other. Again we would repeat, the fame of the mere handful of
Fusiliers echoed throughout the civilized world, and Europe stood amazed
at their doings. Lo! the Fusiliers had in a desperate struggle routed a
host--an entire army--of the proudest and haughtiest sons of Adam's race
from the blood-stained heights of Albuera. They rushed upon the enemy
with vehement courage; bayonet crossed bayonet; sword clashed against
sword. Backwards and forwards rolled the eddying fight. The din was
terrible, the carnage awful. But in the end, although the Marshal of
France did all he could to encourage and animate his countrymen, they
had to yield to the Fusiliers. The conduct of the Fusilier Brigade on
this field was the admiration of both friend and foe. "Gallantry," says
one of the bravest of the brave (Lord Hardinge) "is hardly a name for
it. In this terrible charge, which swept the veterans of France from the
field, the Fusiliers lost 638 men, 34 sergeants, and 32 officers. It was
here Sir William Myers fell, and no man died that day with more glory,
yet many died; and there was much glory." Happy the nation which can
find such true-hearted men to meet the foe. But the remainder stood
triumphant on that fatal hill (see p. 434). The list of killed and
wounded proclaim with dreadful eloquence the sanguinary character of
the contest the Fusiliers had just decided. Decided what? A doubtful
field? No; but won back a lost field, and once more fastened victory to
our glorious old standard. The word "Fusilier" after this was almost
enough for a Frenchman's breakfast. We again find the old regiment
advancing with rapid steps to assist their hard-pressed comrades, the
5th Fusiliers, on the field of El Bodón (see p. 436). And on this
occasion the determined appearance of the Fusilier Brigade was enough.
They stopped the pursuit of the boasting steel-clad squadrons of France.
Again, at Aldea de Pont, the dear old corps charged the enemy with such
vehemence as to drive them from the field. And now we retrace our steps
to Badajoz. After no end of hardships in the trenches, the hour of
assault draws near. Everything that could be thought of was done to
repel an assault. It was known that the enterprise was a desperate one;
powder-barrels and live shells by hundreds were embedded in the earth
just at the foot of the deadly breach, all ready for an explosion. A
large _chevaux-de-frise_ was placed across the breach, and at the bottom
of the ditch long planks with spikes, bayonets, and sword-blades
fastened into them, and pointing upwards, ready for our poor fellows to
jump upon. The Fusiliers led the way at the deadly breach of Trinidad
with heroic valour. The fires of hell seemed to have broken upon them to
destroy the old regiment. With a tremendous cheer, however, they mounted
the deadly breach, only to fall back into the ditch below. Others then
rushed up, nothing daunted, to be hurled back upon their comrades. The
enemy fought with desperation. More men pressed forward while the dying
and wounded were struggling in the ditch. At other places the ladders
were too short, while, to add to the horror of the scene, a mine was
sprung. But the Fusiliers never quailed. At length an entrance was
forced, and in a short time Badajoz was at the conqueror's feet. But,
alas! five thousand poor fellows lay in front of those deadly breaches.
The loss to the Fusiliers was heavy--18 officers, 14 sergeants, and 200
men.
After a number of minor combats, in all of which they came off
victorious, we trace the old corps to the field of Salamanca. The enemy
were taught a short but sharp lesson on this field. The Fusiliers were
in the thick of it, but they were determined to maintain the honour of
the corps, and, with cheer after cheer, they rushed at the enemy with
levelled steel. Here again their loss was heavy--12 officers, 8
sergeants, and 199 men; but the remainder stood as conquerors. Then,
after a lot of marching and counter-marching, we again find the old
regiment on the field of Vittoria. On this field they had the post of
honour, and were the admiration of all except the foe. It was here that
the French lost all, including their honour. It was a most decisive
victory for the English.
We now trace the Fusiliers to the sanguinary battles of the Pyrenees,
where, with rapid and headlong charges, and with shouts of victory, they
stormed position after position which appeared almost impregnable,
hurling the enemy down the mountain sides. The old regiment, side by
side with the 20th, 23rd Welsh Fusiliers, and the 40th, fought
valiantly. As the ranks of conquering bayonets rushed at them, the shock
of cold steel was too much for Napoleon's spoilt invincibles. Each
column was met in mid-onset, and forced back with great slaughter. Four
times the Fusiliers precipitated themselves on a host of fresh
opponents, and in each case proved victorious. Here our Commander again
thanked the men on the spot, and in his despatch to the Government
expressed his admiration of the deeds of the gallant old Fusiliers; for
his Grace openly affirmed that the Royal Fusiliers had surpassed all
former good conduct, and that the valour of the Fusiliers had won his
approbation. His Grace might well say, "With British soldiers I will go
anywhere and do anything." The loss of the old regiment was heavy, being
11 officers, 14 sergeants, and 188 men; but they inflicted a terrible
loss upon the enemy. They had been forced from ten strong mountain
positions, and all had been carried with the queen of weapons--the
bayonet. The passage of the Bidassra followed. Then the enemy's army was
driven from a strong position on the Neville. The gallant regiment now
stood triumphant, firmly established on the "sacred soil" of France.
Retribution had overtaken guilty, haughty, insulting France. The tyrant
Napoleon had hurled the thunderbolts of war against the nations of
Europe. The whole of the sovereigns of the continent had been on their
knees before this tyrannical usurper, but he now saw them attack him
with fury. The enemy took up a formidable position at Orthes, but no
advantage of position could stop our victorious army. Marshal Soult
(Napoleon's pet General) here got a sound drubbing.
The old Fusiliers are again side by side with the Royal Welsh, well to
the front, for our victorious General opened the ball with them. The
enemy were beaten at all points, and routed from the field. After a
number of minor engagements, in all of which they were victorious, we
come to the closing scene--the field of Toulouse. But Dame Fortune would
not smile upon the French eagle, for the enemy got another sound
beating, and had to retire from the field, leaving it in the hands of
the conquering sons of Albion. Thus the Fusiliers had carried our
triumphant standard from victory to victory. We pass from one brilliant
deed to another with almost breathless rapidity. The succession of
victories had dazzled the whole of Europe, who stood amazed at the
gallant deeds of the "astonishing infantry." Peace was now declared, and
the Fusiliers returned home, after an absence of nearly seven long years
of toil and triumph. We need hardly say that they got a worthy
reception, being greeted with hearty cheers from crowds of their fellow
countrymen. They had frequently been acknowledged to be a most
brilliant, heroic, and dashing body of men by those who were competent
judges. Their conduct had often been the admiration of all, for where
all were brave, they were acknowledged to be "the bravest of the brave."
The Fusiliers' stay at home was of short duration. Our big cousins
across the Atlantic, thinking our hands were full, must "kick up a row"
with us; so the Fusiliers were despatched to teach them better
behaviour. After a number of engagements with our kinsmen, with but
little honour on their part (and it is not at all pleasant to thrash
one's own flesh and blood), peace was patched up, and the Fusiliers
returned home; for the disturber of the world was again in the field,
and on the red field of Waterloo. The conqueror of nations, backed by an
army of old and grim veterans, threw down the gauntlet at the feet of
our conquering chief, Wellington, and the bright dream of the "hundred
days" was rudely dissipated. But the old Fusiliers this time were not in
it; they landed at Ostend on the day of the battle, and pushed on
rapidly, but all was over with Napoleon before they reached the field.
They marched on into France with the victorious army, and remained with
the Army of Occupation until 1818. A long period of peace and
tranquility followed. Europe had had enough of war. And the old
Fusiliers, as the sequel of this book will show, nobly maintained, on
the heights of Alma, and Inkermann, and throughout the siege of
Sebastopol, the reputation acquired by their forefathers. Lord Raglan
knew well what he was about when he selected the Royal Fusiliers,
together with the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, to lead the way at the Alma.
The two old regiments had often been shoulder to shoulder; and his
lordship on this field was not disappointed, for they urged each other
on to desperate deeds of valour. Up they went, forcing back a huge
column of the enemy, until they gained the blood-stained heights, and
then stood triumphant. And repeatedly during that trying campaign the
Royal Fusiliers led the way. Since then the mutineers could not say that
the Fusiliers were napping when wanted; and I am confident that their
countrymen are well satisfied with their conduct in the Afghan campaigns
of 1863 and the late go-in at Candahar; and that the honour of our dear
old flag may still with safety be left in the hands of the ROYAL
FUSILIERS.
Their mettle has been well proved on the following fields:--Walcourt,
Steenkirk, Landen, Namur, Cadiz, Rota, Vigo, Lindau, Minorca, Quebec,
Satur, Montgomery, Clinton, Philadelphia, Newhaven, Charlestown, Cowpens,
Copenhagen, Martingal, Oporto, Talavera, Busaco, Olivenze, Albuera,
Aldea de Pont, Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca, Montevite, Vittoria,
Pampeluna, Pyrenees, Bidassra, Orthes, Toulouse, New Orleans, Fort
Bowyer, Alma, Inkermann, throughout the siege of Sebastopol, India
(1857-8-9), Lalo, Umbeyla Pass, and Candahar (1880). Their valour was
displayed on the heights of Alma and Inkermann in a manner most heroic.
Multiplied and almost unheard-of proofs were given, I do not say merely
of courage, but of devotion to their country, quite extraordinary and
sublime.
The following are a few of the "Second to None" boys who have been
presented by Her Most Gracious Majesty with that priceless decoration,
THE VICTORIA CROSS.
Lieut. H. M. Jones, 1st.
Lieut. W. Hope, 2nd.
Ass.-Surgeon T. E. Hale, 3rd.
Private W. Norman, 4th.
Private M. Hughes, 5th.
And during the Afghan campaign, at a sortie from Candahar, Private James
Ashford won the cross by carrying wounded comrades from the field under
a most tremendous fire, after all the troops had re-entered the
fortress.
The Fusiliers have, as the records prove, been largely recruited from
Norfolk, Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, Yorkshire, and Lancashire, with a
good sprinkling of the boys of the Green Isle.
We will now bid farewell to the Royal Fusiliers, or "second to none"
boys, wishing them "God speed."
THE VICTORIA CROSS.
"Worth! What is a ribbon worth to a soldier?
Worth! Everything! Glory is priceless!"
"Every village has its hero,
And every fire-side its story."
SEVENTH ROYAL FUSILIERS.
Lieutenant HENRY MITCHELL JONES (afterwards Captain in the
regiment; retired 28th August, 1857).--Date of act of
bravery, 7th June, 1855.--For having distinguished himself
while serving with the party which stormed and took the
Quarries before Sebastopol, by repeatedly leading on his men
to repel the continual assaults of the enemy during the
night. Although wounded early in the evening, Captain Jones
remained unflinchingly at his post until after daylight the
following morning.
Lieutenant WILLIAM HOPE (retired 3rd March, 1857).--Date of
act of bravery, 18th June, 1855.--After the troops had
retreated on the morning of the 18th of June, 1855,
Lieutenant W. Hope, being informed by the late
Sergeant-Major William Bacon, who was himself wounded, that
Lieutenant and Adjutant Hobson was lying outside the
trenches, badly wounded, went out to look for him, and found
him lying in an old agricultural ditch running towards the
left flank of the Redan. He then returned and got four men
to bring him in. Finding, however, that Lieutenant Hobson
could not be removed without a stretcher, he then ran back
across the open to Egerton's Pit, where he procured one, and
carried it to where Lieutenant Hobson was lying. All this
was done under a very heavy fire from the Russian batteries.
Assistant-Surgeon THOMAS E. HALE, M.D.--Date of act of
bravery, 8th September, 1855.--1st. For remaining with an
officer who was dangerously wounded, Capt. H. M. Jones, 7th
Fusiliers, in the fifth parallel, on the 8th September,
1855, when all the men in the immediate neighbourhood
retreated, excepting Lieutenant W. Hope and Dr. Hale; and
for endeavouring to rally the men in conjunction with
Lieutenant W. Hope, 7th Royal Fusiliers.--2nd. For having,
on the 8th September, 1855, after the regiments had retired
into the trenches, cleared the most advanced sap of the
wounded, and carried into the sap, under a heavy fire,
several wounded men from the open ground, being assisted by
Sergeant Charles Fisher, 7th Royal Fusiliers.
Private (No. 3443) WILLIAM NORMAN.--On the night of the 19th
December, 1854, he was placed on single sentry some distance
in front of the advanced sentries of an outlying picquet in
the White Horse Ravine, a post of much danger, and requiring
great vigilance; the Russian picquet was posted about 300
yards in his front; three Russian soldiers advanced, under
cover of the brushwood, for the purpose of reconnoitering.
Private William Norman, single-handed, took two of them
prisoners, without alarming the Russian picquet.
Private (No. 1879) MATTHEW HUGHES.--Private Matthew Hughes,
7th Royal Fusiliers, was noticed by Colonel Campbell, 90th
Light Infantry, on the 7th June, 1855, at the storming of
the Quarries, for twice going for ammunition, under a heavy
fire, across the open ground; he also went to the front and
brought in Private John Hampton, who was lying severely
wounded; and on the 18th June, 1855, he volunteered to bring
in Lieutenant Hobson, 7th Royal Fusiliers, who was lying
severely wounded, and in the act of doing so was severely
wounded himself.
THE 9TH OR NORFOLK REGIMENT.
Some of our most distinguished commanders have served in this gallant
regiment, that is "second to none." This is the regiment that young
Colin Campbell first joined in 1808--its colours, then virgin, being
about to be decorated with the names of battles in which he first saw
fire. It decided, or helped to decide, many a hard-fought battle. It
boldly confronted the hitherto victorious Republicans on the field of
Roliça; and in fight after fight in the Peninsula the North Folk's blood
was up, and the victors of Jena, Austerlitz, and Wagram had to bow
before them and bolt--_they did not even wait to accept a twenty
minutes' swimmer_--from the hitherto contemptible sons of Albion. The
Iron Duke did not give the enemy breathing time, but in four days closed
with them on the field of Vimiera, when the old 9th again, with the
queen of weapons, leaped upon the pets of Napoleon and routed them. On
the memorable field of Corunna this regiment took a distinguished part;
again, on the field of Busaco, the Imperial Guards of France were, so to
speak, pitchforked over the rocks by this dashing regiment, and from
crag to crag and rock to rock they followed them up, using the bayonet
with fearful effect. The career of this fine regiment through
"Salamanca," "Vittoria," "Saint Sebastian," "Nive," "Cabul, 1842,"
"Moodkee," "Ferozeshah," and "Sobraon," was one continued series of
victories; and at the siege of Sebastopol it was clearly proved that the
old 9th could hold its own, for the Russians were often glad to get out
of its reach. Since then this regiment has made the acquaintance of the
Afghans on several fields, taking another peep at "Cabul" without an
invitation. And, more recently still, the Egyptians found that they had
not forgotten the use of the bayonet. Therefore the honour of Old
England might with safety be left in the hands of the old 9th, the
Norfolk Regiment, "The Holy Boys." I have heard that the nickname was
given them during the Peninsula war, for selling their bibles for grog,
but I will not vouch for the truth of the story.
THE CONNAUGHT RANGERS.
We now trace the honourable records of a most dashing regiment--the
Connaught Rangers. Its motto is "_Quis separabit_"--Who shall divide us.
The Connaught Rangers were raised at the outbreak of the French
Revolutionary war in 1793, and was soon called upon to receive from the
Republicans its "baptism of fire," at Alost, 6th July, 1794. The sprigs
from Connaught, although attacked with fury, repulsed the enemy with
unshaken fortitude, and for the first time nobly upheld the honour of
the flag of Old England, well stamping their motto, "who shall divide
us," upon the foe, and proving, under proper guidance, their fierce
native bearing. Burning to meet the enemy, it endured with much patience
the misery of a winterly retreat from overwhelming odds. Numbers dropped
down completely overpowered by the intense cold, and were frozen to
death. The Rangers in 1795 were quartered at Norwich, and a number of
the wild boys of Norfolk helped to fill its ranks. Shortly after this
the regiment sailed for the East Indies, but its stay there was of short
duration. It formed a portion of Sir David Baird's expedition to Egypt,
and was one of the first regiments that marched across that long, dreary
desert to measure its strength with Napoleon's Invincibles. But it was
all over with that usurper as far as Egypt was concerned before they
reached the field. The regiment returned to England with Nelson's
victorious fleet, and some 250 of the Derbyshire Militia volunteered to
join their ranks. On a number of fields in Portugal, Spain, France, and
America it was proved that they were worthy to fight beside the wild
boys of Connaught and Norfolk.
We will now pass on to the most glorious period in the present century,
the Peninsula War, in which the Connaught Rangers immortalised
themselves upon field after field. No regiment in the whole British army
gained more glory than the Rangers, yet much was gained. The 88th first
met the Imperial Guards of France on the memorable field of Talavera,
and well thrashed them. The enemy advanced in broad and deep columns
with the swiftness of a sand-storm, with drums beating and colours
flying, in all the majesty of war, but the sons of Erin and Albion stood
unmovable and dauntless, until they received the order to advance. They
then defeated the hitherto victorious legions of France with a terrible
slaughter, and with thrilling shouts of "Faugh-a-Ballagh" and "Hurrah
for ould Ireland," they rushed at the foe. Bayonet crossed bayonet,
sword crossed sword; backwards and forwards rolled the eddying mass, but
the French columns were routed. The conflict was renewed with fresh
troops which had never before been beaten, but time after time this
noble regiment largely contributed to hurl them from the field with
terrible carnage. The next field on which this noble regiment took a
conspicuous part was Busaco. The furious charges with the queen of
weapons made by the Rangers won the admiration of all. The enemy were
pitched over the rocks from crag to crag and from rock to rock. They
followed the foe, and although the crafty French commander brought up
the Irish brigade in the service of Napoleon, these noble sons of Erin
proved that they were loyal sons, routing their unfortunate countrymen
from the field by the side of the much vaunted "heroes of Austerlitz."
Wellington with the eye of an eagle watched the dreadful strife, and
thanked the regiment on the spot for its conduct. We next find the
Rangers on the hard-contested field of Fuentes de Oñoro, where the odds
were heavy against us. Again they crossed bayonets with Napoleon's old
guards, and routed them from the field. The 79th Highlanders were by the
side of them, and their brilliant conduct was the theme of general
admiration. They put the finishing stroke on the "spoilt child of
fortune," and largely helped to nail victory to our glorious old flag.
Again we find the gallant sons of Connaught under the walls of Ciudad
Rodrigo. The hero of Assaye was determined to wrench that stronghold
from the enemy, and with a masterpiece of generalship it was besieged.
On the 19th January, 1812, the order was issued, "Ciudad Rodrigo must be
stormed this evening." The Rangers' answer was, "We will do it;" and
right well they did it. Their fire-eating commander, Picton, addressed
them briefly: "Rangers of Connaught," he exclaimed, "it is not my
intention to expend any powder this evening, we will do this business
with cold iron." The word "Forward" was then given. After a fierce
hand-to-hand fight the main breach was gained, the enemy driven from
street to street, our proud old flag was floating from its walls, and
the fortress lay at the conqueror's feet. The "hero of a hundred fights"
again thanked the Rangers for their heroic conduct.
We now trace the sprigs of Connaught to the walls of Badajoz, where they
take a conspicuous part, planting our proud old flag on its lofty
castle. The fiery Picton led them under a terrible fire of musketry,
showers of heavy stones, logs of wood, and bursting shells. The ladders
were quickly raised, and these undaunted veterans strove who should
first climb them. The ladders were overthrown, the French shouted
"Victory," the stormers were baffled, but not defeated. The gallant
Ridge of the 5th Fusiliers and the heroic Canch of the Rangers sprang
forward, and called with the voice of thunder for their men to follow.
The ladders were again raised, under a terrible fire, and in less than
one minute those two heroic leaders stood conquerors on the ramparts of
the castle, whilst the sons of Connaught with the sons of Albion rushed
up the ladders. The garrison was amazed, not suspecting that an entrance
could be made there. It was a most glorious achievement; the intrepid
Ridge fell in the hour of victory. If a chariot of fire had been sent
for him he could not have departed with more glory.
We now trace the Rangers to Salamanca, where they immortalised
themselves; the brunt of the fighting fell on the third division. The
Rangers for some time had been under a terrible fire of artillery, and
becoming impatient, their commander, Major-General the Hon. Pakenham,
noticed it, and called out to their colonel to let them loose. The noble
regiment at once dashed with a headlong charge at the enemy; the
fighting was desperate but short; the enemy were completely overthrown,
and routed from the field. An incident occurred here worth recording.
The Duke of Wellington knew well how and where to hit, and ordered
General Pakenham to take the hill in his front. "I will, my Lord," was
the reply of that noble soldier, "if you will give me a grasp of that
conquering right hand," and, parting with a true English grasp, Pakenham
swept all before him, although the enemy advanced to meet him with
drums beating and colours flying until they came close enough to mark
the frown on our men's faces. It was too late then; the Rangers dashed
at them, side by side with the Sherwood Foresters. The boldest of the
French officers rushed to the front to inspire the quailing souls of
their countrymen. The commander of the Rangers was shot dead, and the
men were mad to revenge their beloved chief. Albuera was here repeated,
but all had to yield to the vehement charge, as this noble regiment
closed with the enemy. Then was seen with what determination our men
fight. They smote that mighty column into fragments, and rolled it back
in indescribable confusion. At this moment the gallant Le Merchant's
heavy brigade of cuirassed cavalry burst through, and went straight at
the reeling masses of the enemy. The column was cut to pieces, and two
eagles, eleven pieces of cannon, and seven thousand prisoners were
captured on the spot. Our commander, Wellington, might well thank the
commander of the fighting third division on the spot. The Connaught
Rangers and Sherwood Foresters had knocked all the conceit of fighting
man-to-man out of the enemy, and, as at Albuera with the Fusiliers, and
at Busaco, the conceit was taken out of them. But we must pass on to the
field of Vittoria. Here, again, the Rangers were as firm as the rocks of
their native shore, and with fortitude this glorious old regiment came
out in all their native lustre, proving that nothing could daunt and
nothing dismay them, for Picton's heroes on this field swept all before
them. We note that it was on this field that Picton led his division on
with his night-cap on, and did not find it out until he was in the thick
of the fight, and both officers and men laughing at him, when he
exclaimed, waving his plumed hat, "Come on, you fighting devils, come
on;" and the pride of France were swept from the field, leaving all
their guns, 151, in the hands of the victors. They bolted from the field
like a well-greased flash of lightning, our cavalry chasing them for
miles, capturing prisoners at every stride. King Joseph's coach and all
his State papers fell into our hands. One million sterling was the booty
of this field. It was a most crushing defeat. The fighting third
division had suffered fearfully, and largely contributed in nailing the
victory to our glorious standard.
But we must pass on to note that throughout the battles of the Pyrenees
and on the field of Neville, this dashing regiment well sustained the
reputation of our flag. At Orthes it especially distinguished itself, by
routing the legions of Napoleon from the field, side by side with the
gallant old 52nd, snatching victory from the hands of the crafty Marshal
of France, Soult. Their loss on this field attested the brilliancy of
its services; nearly half the regiment fell.
We now come to the closing scene of the Peninsula War--the field of
Toulouse. Only three companies of the Rangers were engaged, but they
well sustained the reputation of the good old corps. We now emphatically
say that the Rangers of Connaught have on field after field proved their
loyalty to our beloved Sovereign, and have often maintained the honour
of our glorious old flag. After the battle of Toulouse the regiment,
like a number of others, was drafted off to America, to help to teach
our big cousins better manners; and to the honour of the Rangers be it
said, not a man did they lose by desertion, although hundreds deserted
and went over to the enemy. On Napoleon bursting from his narrow prison
at Elba, the Rangers were ordered home, but too late for the crowning
victory of Waterloo.
Colonel A. J. Wallace, who had so often led this noble regiment on to
victory, obtained permission from His Royal Highness the Duke of York,
in 1818, to present to the surviving veterans of the Peninsula War
silver medals and clasps, as a testimony of their unshaken fortitude.
These were divided into three classes. The first class were composed of
men who had been present in twelve general actions; the second class,
men who had been present in from six to eleven actions; and the third
class, men who had been present in any number less than six. The
following are the numbers of the different ranks that received and wore
them with pride:--
Sergts. Corpls. Drumrs. Privates.
First Class 13 6 6 45
Second Class 7 9 3 126
Third Class 19 10 3 185
-- -- -- ----
Total 39 25 12 356
We would here note that the only medal issued to the non-commissioned
officers and privates up to 1848 by our Government was one for Waterloo.
In 1848 the surviving veterans of the Peninsula campaigns were served
with medals and clasps to commemorate the brightest military page in our
history. The Rangers were stationed in all parts of our vast empire
during the "piping times of peace" from 1815 to 1854. When Russia
disturbed the peace of Europe the boys of Connaught were once more
called upon to uphold the honour of our dear old flag, and the writer
can testify that they had not degenerated from their unconquerable
forefathers, who fought and vanquished on field after field under the
immortal Picton and Wellington. As far as the Alma was concerned, the
Rangers had not much to do with it, but, reader, it was not their fault,
or they would have been by the side of us, the Fusiliers, at the great
redoubt. But at Inkermann they nobly revenged themselves; they advanced
with level steel with such vehemence as to hurl the enemy's huge columns
from the field time after time. At one period they were completely
surrounded by the assailing drunken multitudes, and a desperate
hand-to-hand encounter ensued, which proved their valour. Their loss was
terrible, but the Connaught loyal boys yielded not one inch of ground on
this bloody field. As fast as one column of the enemy was broken into
fragments another took its place, to share the same fate from these
gallant heroes. The carnage was terrible, the dead and wounded of both
friend and foe lying in piles. All regiments seemed to vie with each
other in fortitude, but the Rangers would not be second to any. At one
time one of our batteries was captured and the gunners were all shot
down or bayoneted, but the Connaught boys were close at hand. The enemy
were exulting over their victory with wild yellings, when the "two
eights" were let loose at them, and rushed at the foe with a wild shout
of "Faugh-a-Ballagh" and "Hurrah for ould Ireland," which soon stopped
their crowing. The enemy were fairly lifted from the field with the rush
of cold steel, the guns were re-captured, and handed over to some of our
artillery officers. I have heard a good tit-bit about this, and feel I
must give it. A big grenadier of the 88th, profusely bleeding,
addressing an artilleryman just after, said, "Now just see if yer can
take better care of your thundering guns this time, for, be jabers, I am
kilt entirely in takin' them back for yers." The battle was raging, and
our men were almost exhausted, when our noble Allies, the French, rushed
to the rescue with a ringing cheer of "_Vive l'Empereur_" and "_Bon
Anglais_;" but a resolve was taken by all hands--"death or victory." We
say again that the eight thousand grim bearded Britons had made up their
minds not to be beaten, although the odds against them were on some
parts of the field twelve to one; and no love of peace will ever deaden
in the hearts of true and honest Britons an admiration for such stubborn
intrepidity, for the fame of the deeds of the handful of the sons of
Albion, side by side of the boys of the Green Isle, who fought and
conquered on grim Inkermann's rocky ridge, will surround our standard
with a halo of glory, and will live in the page of history to the end of
time; and now, March, 1885, it is stimulating their descendants under
Sir G. Graham, on the burning plains of Egypt. Under the greatest
difficulties the British soldier or sailor will shine forth in all his
native splendour that nothing can daunt, nothing dismay. We say it is
the bounden duty of every Briton to help to keep up that _esprit de
corps_ which no danger can appal. We claim for the Rangers of Connaught
all that makes a true soldier--an unconquerable spirit, patience in
fatigue and privation, and cheerful obedience to his superiors.
Throughout the terrible winter of 1854 they were ever prompt in
performing their duty, and ready to meet the foe under all
circumstances. On the night of the 22nd March, 1855, the night on which
some of the best blood of Britain was spilt, the "two eights" helped to
avenge the death of one who was beloved by all, Captain Hedley Vicars.
The enemy were driven back with the bayonet with a terrible slaughter.
"Faugh-a-Ballagh" could be distinctly heard amid the din of fight. Day
after day, night after night, week after week, month after month, the
unconquerable sons of Connaught fought to desperation to uphold the
honour of our flag. On the 7th June, 1855, the Rangers of Connaught were
let loose side by side the Royal Fusiliers. "At them, my lads," could be
heard, and at them they went, and the enemy were lifted out of the
Quarries, although they came on in overwhelming numbers to try and
re-take the position from us. The Rangers and Fusiliers routed them. All
the officers of the 88th fell dead or wounded; the sergeants then took
command of companies, and led the men on. On the morning of the 8th this
heroic band stood triumphant; the fighting had been of the Inkermann
stamp, stones being freely used by our men when ammunition failed, and
the bayonet was used with fearful effect. The same valour and constancy
which glowed in the breasts of the heroes of Albuera and Busaco animated
the Rangers and Fusiliers that night to desperate deeds of valour. The
eyes of Europe were upon them, and it was acknowledged that they were
worthy descendants of the conquerors of Salamanca. Fight followed fight
night after night from the 7th to the 18th of June. The enemy on every
occasion were driven back from our batteries by that nasty piece of cold
steel, the bayonet. The hitherto victorious "red line" had carried all
before them. On the morning of the 18th June the Connaught boys were on
tiptoe to be let loose at the great Redan. About 2 a.m. the signal for
attack was thrown up; away went the Fusiliers, well supported by the
Rangers and other regiments. But we were doomed to disappointment. The
column was met with a perfect hail of fire from hundreds of guns loaded
with grape and canister, whilst broadside after broadside from some of
the largest ships afloat in any waters carried death and destruction
into that noble band. The brave fellows fell in heaps. The retreat was
sounded all over the field, but that heroic column stood sullen, and
would not turn their backs on the foe. The officers had, so to speak, to
drag their men from the devouring cross fires. I noticed a powerfully
built man of the Rangers had, in advancing across the plain up to the
Redan, trod upon an infernal machine, as we called them. Off it went,
blowing every stitch of clothing off the poor fellow, but not hurting
him otherwise. When I saw him he was in a state of nudity swearing
vengeance against the cowardly Russians. But, reader, we had to pocket
it; it was a defeat for us. But wait a while, and you will find we soon
got out of debt, giving them good interest, for it only roused us the
more, and set us longing to get to close quarters with them. The enemy
were delighted to think they had beaten us for once. There was no
holding them, and they openly boasted that they would drive us all into
the sea (see attack 26th June). The Rangers was one of the regiments
that held the post of honour that night, nobly doing their duty, and
hurling the boasting enemy from the field with fearful slaughter. The
Fusiliers and Connaught Rangers again, as on the 7th June, vied with
each other in desperate deeds of valour. The vast columns of the enemy
were driven back completely bewildered by the determined rushes of our
men. We pretty well knocked all the conceit for fighting out of them.
But I must pass on. The attention of Europe was directed to that
renowned fortress; the honour of our flag was at stake. We had been kept
at bay for nearly twelve months, and, let the consequence be what it
might, it must fall; and fall it did. It is not my intention to go into
details now, as they will be found in other parts of the book. The
Rangers was one of the regiments that went at the great Redan, and they
nobly sustained their reputation. Again, we find the Connaught boys
taking tea with the mutineers at Cawnpore, Lucknow, and Central India,
in fight after fight. Since then the 88th have been stationed in all
parts of our vast empire, and both in the field and out of it the
Rangers of Connaught have proved good loyal sons of the Emerald Isle;
and should it ever be our lot to face the Muscovite battalions, let us
go shoulder to shoulder at them by the side of the heroic sons of Erin's
loyal boys--"_Quis separabit_." The haughty sons of Adam's race could
not do it, so let us do justice, and give the right hand of fellowship
to the "bravest of the brave." We will now bid adieu, wishing the
Rangers of Connaught a hearty God speed.--T. G.
EMBARKED FOR HOME.
Well, we at last broke up camp, and embarked for dear old England,
leaving those cold, bleak, inhospitable regions behind. The first night
on board ship, homeward bound--what a night for reflection! A flood of
thoughts came across my mind regarding the different fields I had fought
on, and the many hairbreadth escapes I had had. I thought of the Alma,
and my Christian comrade who lay buried beside the river; I thought of
the wild charge of our handful of Cavalry at Balaclava, of our
desperate fight at Inkermann, of our terrible work in the
trenches--night after night, day after day, up to our ankles in mud,
half frozen, half dead, as hungry as hunters, with nothing to eat, but
yet having to fight like a lot of lions. And after all I had gone
through--death in a thousand shapes, both in the field and camp, for
upwards of twelve long months staring me in the face--truly I had much
for meditation, verily I had much to be thankful for. Thousands had
fallen all around me, heap upon heap, and pile upon pile; and yet I had
been spared. I thought of poor Captain Vicars, and what a noble fellow
he was--he fell in almost his first fight; and yet a merciful God had
thought fit to throw His protecting arm of love around me. What a night
of reflection! I found myself on board a noble ship--homeward bound. I
knew well that a grateful country was waiting to receive us, and that we
should most likely have a warm reception, to say nothing of the
affectionate greetings from those who were near and dear to us by the
ties of nature. I will pass over the voyage home as quickly as possible,
for it was a very pleasant one; every morning brought us nearer to that
dear old isle that many of us had shed our blood for. At last we arrived
in Portsmouth Harbour, on the 26th July, 1856. We at once landed and
marched to the Railway Station, or rather we eventually found ourselves
there safe, for how we got there it would be difficult to say--one would
have thought that the good people had gone mad. They had witnessed
hundreds come home from the seat of war, maimed in a most frightful
manner, mere wrecks of humanity. They had now got hold of the men that
they had read so much of. In their excitement they lifted us right out
of the ranks, and carried us on their shoulders through the streets,
which were packed by thousands of people, who were determined to give us
a cordial welcome. They wanted to kill us with kindness, for as soon as
they got hold of us, it was brandy in front of us, rum to the right of
us, whiskey to the left of us, gin in rear of us, and a cross-fire of
all kinds of ales and lemonades--to say nothing of the pretty girls, and
we got many a broadside from them. It did not matter much which way one
went, all appeared determined to give the men who had stormed the
Heights of Alma, defended against such odds the Heights of Inkermann,
routed the hordes of Muscovites from the Plains of Balaclava, and twice
stormed the bloody parapets of the Redan--a hearty reception, and well
they did it! We did not want to tell them what hardships we had to
endure in the trenches; we did not want to tell them how often we had
faced the foe--they knew it all.
Many a loving wife embraced her fond but rough-looking husband. The dear
children did not in many cases know their long-bearded fathers. Mothers
that had come for miles fell fainting into the arms of their soldierly
but affectionate sons: many brothers and sisters, too, had come great
distances to meet and welcome long absent brethren,--all helped to swell
that mighty throng that were only too happy to welcome home the
conquering sons of Albion. As for sweethearts, I will leave my young
readers to guess all about that, for the "pretty little dears" were as
warm-hearted and had as long tongues in 1856 as they have now; but we
could not get on well without them. The whole nation appeared to have
made up its mind to do honour to the Crimean Army. Hundreds, yea,
thousands had previously come home maimed, and many had since found rest
in the quiet grave, but all were looked after by the nation at large.
Her Most Gracious Majesty shewed a kind motherly feeling, shedding many
a tear as she looked at her maimed soldiers. This evidence of Her
Majesty's sympathy was most touching, and as a rough loyal old soldier
from the Emerald Isle called out at Aldershot, after the Queen had said
a few kind words to the troops, and thanked us for doing our duty,
"Where is the man who would not fight for such a Queen?" I would re-echo
that cry and add "Where is the Briton who would not do or die to uphold
our glorious old flag?"
One of the most touching scenes, that melted many to tears, was
witnessed on the 18th of May, 1856, when Her Most Gracious Majesty,
accompanied by the late Prince Consort, the then young Prince of Wales,
the Duke of Cambridge, and a host of others, assembled to witness the
presentation of the Crimean Medals to a number of Officers,
Non-commissioned officers and Men that had faced the foe on many
hard-fought fields. Her Majesty betrayed much emotion, her whole frame
indicating the deep throbbing of her heart. When each maimed warrior was
brought into the presence of Her Majesty, the whole mighty assembly gave
utterance to their feelings, but not in cheers; it was as if an audible
throb broke from the heart of Queen and people at once; the people felt
that they had a Sovereign worth battling and bleeding for. Three
officers were wheeled up in chairs, Sir Thomas Troubridge, of the 7th
Royal Fusiliers, was the first; he had lost both his feet at Inkermann;
that kind motherly heart could not stand that, it was too much for her,
and she burst into tears. The other two were both of the Light Division,
Captain Soyer of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, and Captain Cuming of the
19th Foot. During this scene Her Majesty must have been amused by Jack's
dumbfounded expression and bearing--he appeared to be out of his
latitude, but there was no mistaking his proud look after receiving the
distinction. A number of officers and men had to move slowly along by
the aid of a stick, or the assistance of a comrade; others could only
approach Her Majesty on crutches. Queen and people were deeply
affected.
And now, before closing this narrative, as far as the Crimean campaign
is concerned, I wish just to relate a few amusing incidents that came
under my own observation, and in which I was an actor.
ANECDOTES.
Paddy isn't half such a fool as he is often taken to be. During the
Crimean campaign, a genuine son of the Emerald Isle was brought before
his Commanding officer for stealing his comrade's ration of liquor.
Being (as most of his countrymen are) witty, he was not at a loss for a
defence when brought before the green baize covered table, and the
charge was read out to him. His Commanding officer asked him what he had
to say for himself. "Well, sur, I'd be sorry indade, sur, to be called a
thief. The Quartermaster sergeant put the liquor into the same bottle
that mine was in, and shure enough I was obliged to drink his, to get at
my own. Och! shure sur, I'd scorn the action; a thief I never was." This
ingenious defence got him over it, with a fool's pardon.
* * * * *
Another, a man of my company, was continually getting himself into
trouble. He had proved himself, from the commencement of the campaign, a
valiant soldier. About a month before Sebastopol fell, I gave him some
money with which to go and purchase some soap; at the same time Pat
asked for the loan of a couple of shillings. He did not turn up any more
that day. Next morning he was a prisoner in the guard tent. We all knew
that he was on his last legs; but as he was a general favourite with the
company, the men pitied him. Some were of opinion that his wit would not
forsake him when brought before the Commanding officer, and he told the
man who brought his breakfast to him that morning that he would get over
it with flying colours. In due course he was brought before the
tribunal and the charge read out--"Absent from camp, from 10 a.m. on the
15th August, until 5 a.m. 16th August." "Well, Welsh, you have heard the
charge. What have you got to say for yourself?" The old rogue pulled a
long face, and then commenced: "Shure, yer honour, the whole regiment,
you know, was very fond of our poor old Colonel Yea, that was kilt on
the 18th of June, and shure, yer honour, I would'nt tell ye a word of a
lie, but I wint and sat on the poor old jintleman's grave, and I sobbed
and sobbed, till I thought my heart would break, for sur, he was a
sodjur every inch of him; and shure, I fell asleep and slept till
morning, and then got up and walked to the guard tent." "Now Welsh, are
you telling the truth? for you know I promised you a Court Martial, if
ever you came before me again for absence." With both hands uplifted, he
exclaimed--"Och! shure yer honour, never a word of a lie in it." Some of
the young officers came to the rescue, and stated that they had
frequently seen men standing and sitting around the Colonel's grave; and
thus he got over it without punishment.
* * * * *
Private Patrick Lee was a "Manchester Irishman," that is to say, his
parents were both from the "land of praties and butter-milk," but he
himself was born at Manchester. He was a powerful athletic fellow, and
knew well how to use his hands, feet, or stick. Some six months after
Sebastopol had fallen, I was Sergeant in charge of the Quarter Guard.
Pat had, contrary to orders, gone into the French camp to look up some
cognac, for he was fond of "his drops." It appears that he had paid for
two bottles of liquor, but could neither get the liquor nor his money
returned. But Paddy was not such a fool as to put up with that without
knowing the reason why, so he quickly took the change out of the
Frenchman by knocking him head-over-heels, and with the unearthly row
the delinquent Frenchman made, he soon brought others to the rescue. In
less time than it takes me to write it, Pat had some half-dozen
Frenchmen sprawling on the ground like a lot of "nine-pins." They had
each received one straight from the shoulder. Pat then armed himself
with a good cudgel which he had picked up, as by this time he was
surrounded by enough "frog-eaters" to eat him. They appeared determined
either to kill him or take him prisoner, but he fought his way through
them all, and like a deer bounded into our camp and gave himself up a
prisoner to me. He was covered with blood, and appeared much exhausted.
Next morning he was brought before the Commanding officer on the charge
of trying to obtain liquor in the French camp. Some fifteen or sixteen
Frenchmen, with their arms in slings, and their heads bandaged, appeared
to testify to Paddy's rough usage; and a French officer stated that some
of his men had been so fearfully kicked and knocked about, that they
were unable to appear against him. The man was sentenced to be severely
punished, and the Frenchmen left our camp apparently satisfied. But when
Pat came out of the tent from the presence of his Commanding officer, he
gave the Frenchmen such a horrible look that one needn't ask how men
appear when they are frightened. After the Frenchmen had cleared our
camp, the prisoner was recalled and asked why he had disgraced himself
and his Regiment in such a manner, when he told the whole story in true
Irish brogue--"that the blackguards robbed him, and then set to to bate
him, but he floored them all as fast as they came up to him. They wanted
to take him prisoner. He found it was getting rather hot, so he gave
them all leg bail, and ne'er a one, nor the whole French army, could
catch him." The Colonel then told the prisoner that, had he allowed
himself to be taken prisoner by the French, he would have tried him by
Court Martial, but as it was he mitigated his punishment.
COMMISSARIAT MULES.
One day in March, 1855, I was one of the sergeants, with a party of men,
that had been sent to Balaclava to bring up supplies, in the way of
biscuit and pork, or salt junk (salt beef). We had a young officer with
us, well mounted, who had but little compassion for poor fellows who
were doing their best, trudging through the mud up to their ankles, with
a heavy load upon their backs. The party were not going fast enough to
suit the whim of our young and inexperienced commander, who called out
to the writer, "Take this man's name, sergeant, and make a prisoner of
him when we get home." The unfortunate man was doing his best to keep
up, and he gave our young officer such a contemptuous look as I shall
not forget as long as I live. Throwing his load of biscuit down in the
mud, he exclaimed, "Man indade! soger indade!--I am only a poor
broken-down commissariat mule." Here a light-hearted fellow burst out
with--
"There's a good time coming, boys!"
The poor fellow was made a prisoner of at once, for insubordination; but
when I explained the case to our gallant, noble-hearted colonel, he took
quite a different view of the matter, forgave the man, and presented him
with a pair of good warm socks and a pair of new boots; for the poor
fellow had nothing but uppers, and no soles on his old ones; and, in
order to teach our smart young officer how to respect men who were
trying to do their duty, sentenced him to three extra fatigues to
Balaclava, and to walk it the same as any other man. On another
occasion, I had to take charge of a party of men (about forty), march
them to Balaclava, to bring up blankets. In due course, after trudging
through the mud for nine miles, I presented my requisition to the
Deputy-Assistant Quartermaster-General, who informed me that it was not
signed by the Quartermaster-General of the Division, and that I should
not have an article until it was duly signed. I informed him that the
men were dying daily for the want of blankets. He ordered me to be
silent, and, with language that is not parliamentary, he informed me he
did not care--(a correct return, or no stores)--shouting like a half-mad
man: "Here, take this document back, and when it is correctly signed you
can then have the blankets." I informed him that I had a party of forty
men with me, and that if he gave me the blankets, the return should be
sent back, correctly signed. But, no! He had not the feelings of
humanity in him. I was ordered out like a dog. I at once handed my men
over to another sergeant of ours, that was stationed at Balaclava to
look after the interests of the regiment, and, with a little coaxing,
managed to borrow a good strong mule; and away I went back to camp, as
fast as the poor brute could move, straight to the colonel's tent. The
first salute I got, from one that had the feelings of humanity, and who
had frequently proved himself as brave as a lion (Col. L. W. Yea), was:
"What's up, Gowing?" I at once explained all, handing the document to
him. As quick as thought he called to his servant: "Brock, get this
sergeant something to eat and drink." Mounting his old cob, that had
carried him through the fields of the Alma (where he was bravely
followed by his Grenadiers, whilst shot and shell flew like hail about
their ears), Little Inkermann, and throughout that memorable foggy morn
at Inkermann, away he went, and in less than fifteen minutes was back
again. Rushing into the tent, he exclaimed: "Well, sergeant, what are
you going to do now?" "Go back; sir, and get the blankets, if you have
got the signature of the Quartermaster-General." "Here you are, then."
I was up and out of camp before he had time to say more. I found my
mule had a lot of pluck in him, so I gave him his head and let him go.
We looked a pair of beauties when I pulled up at our young swell's
hut, and presented the signature. I at once got my stores of priceless
blankets, and marched back. I found that a number of my men had been
taking water well diluted during my absence. A wild youth from the
Green Isle said that that was the best fatigue he had had since he
left ould Ireland--handing me a bottle to whet my eye with. I found
that most of my party had something besides blankets to keep out the
cold; but we got home all right, without any trouble. In less than a
month after, I had the pleasure of meeting our gallant Deputy-Assistant
Quartermaster-General in the trenches, up to his knees in mud and
water, like the remainder. He had been sent to his duty. I thought at
once of his treatment of me and my party. He appeared such a shiftless
creature, shrivelled up with cold, that I felt compelled to offer
him my tin pot of hot coffee, to revive him a little. He, poor lad,
recognised me, and apologised for his treatment, which I knew well
arose from want of experience and thought.
HEAVY ODDS.
The true Briton generally comes out in his proper colours when under
difficulty. During the Crimean campaign, a man joined us who had some
little experience in the prize ring. There was nothing particular to
note about him, further than that he was a fine specimen of humanity,
about five feet eleven inches, and forty-six in. round the chest; he was
strong as Hercules, and knew it. But he was as meek as a lamb unless
well roused, and it took not a little to accomplish that. Only once
during that trying campaign was he ever known to stand upon his dignity,
and that was with a big bully, whom he settled in less than five
minutes. Whilst the fighting lasted, our gallant allies, the French, got
on well with us. It was nothing strange to hear them applauding us with
_Bon Anglais, Bon Anglais_. They were loud in their expressions of
admiration at our conduct at Balaclava, and after Inkermann their
exultation was beyond all bounds. They looked at our men in wonderment;
they knew well we were but a handful against a host; and with thrilling
shouts of _Vive l'Empereur_ and _Bon Anglais_, they threw their arms
around many a grim face covered with powder, blood, and mud, and
impressed kiss after kiss in token of admiration. But what a lot of
faces some people carry under one hat; and we proved before we parted
with our excitable little neighbours that we could not stake horses well
together. After the fall of that far-famed town, Sebastopol, we had but
little to do but drink each other's health, which often ended in a row;
and it was nothing strange to see one of our men defending himself
against half-a-dozen half drunken Frenchmen, and proving the victor. If
they started to kick, some of our Lancashire lads would soon give them a
lesson in "pausing" and "purring." So things went on week after week.
A YORKSHIRE BITE.
Some six months after the fall of Sebastopol, when peace negotiations
were being carried on, some four or five non-commissioned officers (I
being one of them) had been out for a walk on a Sunday afternoon.
Returning home to camp up one of the ravines that had been the scene of
the desperate strife at Inkermann, we met a party of some fifteen
half-drunken Frenchmen coming down the hill. It was an awkward place for
a row. The road was narrow; on one side was a solid rock, and the other
a nasty slope of some thirty or forty feet, like an ugly railway
embankment. As soon as the French caught sight of us they commenced to
shout _Anglais non bon; non bon Anglais_--"English, you are no good; you
are no good." One of our party was the gallant bruiser, to whom I have
before alluded. He was what is called a well-scienced man, and of
tremendous strength--"Yorkshire bite," we had nick-named him, as he
hailed from Leeds. He immediately took command of us, directing us to
sit down under the rocks. "Now lads, set thee doon," said he. "If these
fellows interfere with us, you set still, and leave this little lot to
me, and if I cannot settle them, my name is not Jacky Frith." They were
rapidly approaching us, still shouting like madmen, "_Anglais non bon;
non bon_," and cursing us with all the most filthy oaths they could
muster, which we all understood, having been mixed up with them for two
years. Well, we all sat still under the embankment, with the exception
of our Yorkshire sprig. A monster of a French artilleryman was the first
to come up--and the first to go down. He deliberately spat in our hero's
face, shouting disdainfully _Anglais non bon_. The Yorkshireman's arm at
once came into play,[13] with a blow that lifted him clean off his feet
and sent him rolling from top to the bottom of the cudd. Another, or
two, went at him, and he sent them to look after their comrade. Others
rushed at him, but he proved himself more than a match for the lot. As
far as we could see, one blow was quite enough. We all sat looking at
the fun, almost bursting our sides with laughter, until the last had
disappeared down the cudd. Our hero then put his hands into his pockets,
and, looking over the cudd, shouted out that the English were _bon_
enough for them on the field of Waterloo, and were so now; and turning
round to us with "Come on, boys, let's go home," left the French to get
out the best way they could. Next day there was a parade for all hands,
in order to pick out the men who had so disgraced themselves and the
regiment, as our friends had stated that they had been overpowered by
numbers, and that those who had attacked them belonged to the
Fusiliers. I must say they all looked in a most pitiable plight; some
with their heads bandaged, some with black eyes, others with their arms
in slings, and some limping with the assistance of a stick. They were
accompanied by a French general officer (I think MacMahon). After a
minute inspection up and down the ranks, not a man could be picked out,
but they still persisted that the party that had given them such an
unmerciful beating belonged to us. The colonel then formed square, with
this nice little party in the centre. He then addressed us, expressing a
hope that those who had disgraced themselves would step to the front.
Four out of the five who had constituted our party at once complied. We
were made prisoners, and the colonel proceeded to question us; but when
it was made known to him that _we_ had been attacked and grossly
insulted, and that one man, who was not then on parade, had settled the
whole, without any assistance from us, the regiment was at once
dismissed, and our gallant pioneer corporal sent for. As soon as our
friends caught sight of him, there was no need to ask if they recognized
him, for they at once commenced to jabber like a lot of magpies. When
Gen. Mac Mahon had satisfied himself that we had been the injured party,
and that this solitary man had settled the lot, and further stated that
he was ready for as many more, provided they came singly, the general
laughed heartily, and applauded the man's conduct, requesting the
colonel not to punish any of us. We were at once released, and the case
dismissed.
THE HORRORS OF WAR.
The following incident occurred at the Campo Mayor affair, on the 25th
of March, 1811. "A French captain of dragoons demanded permission, under
a flag of truce, to search among the dead for his colonel. His regiment
was a fine one, with bright brass helmets and black horsehair. It was
truly a bloody scene, being almost all sabre wounds. It was long before
he could find the French colonel, for he was lying on his face, his
naked body weltering in blood; and as soon as he was turned up, the
officer knew him: he gave a sort of scream and sprang off his horse,
dashed his helmet on the ground, knelt by the body, took the bloody hand
and kissed it many times in an agony of grief: it was an affecting and
awful scene. There were about six hundred naked dead bodies lying on the
ground at one view. The French colonel was killed by a corporal of the
Thirteenth. This corporal had killed one of his men, and he was so
enraged, that he sallied out himself and attacked the corporal, who was
well mounted and a good swordsman, as was the colonel himself. Both
defended for some time; the corporal cut him twice across the face; his
helmet came off at the second, when the corporal slew him by a cut which
nearly cleft his skull asunder, cutting in as deep as the nose through
the brain."
ESPRIT DE CORPS.
Private Stevenson, of Ligonier's Horse, having had his horse shot under
him shortly after the commencement of the battle of Fontenoy, on the
11th May, 1745, did not rejoin his regiment until the evening of the
following day. A court-martial was demanded by the man, before which he
produced Lieutenant Izard, of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, who deposed
that the prisoner acquainted him with the death of his horse, and
requested permission to carry a firelock in the grenadier company under
him. His request was granted; he behaved throughout the day with
uncommon intrepidity, and was one of the nine grenadiers which he
brought out of action. He was then promoted to a lieutenancy in the
Royal Welsh Fusiliers.
WHAT HAVE YOU SEEN IN THE CRIMEA?
I have seen majestic nature in grandeur displayed,
With the hills and the valleys which the ocean hath made;
I've seen the eagle and vulture with pinions extended,
And battles so well fought that no hero could mend it.
I saw the Light Division leading the van
With their Allies, who also would die to a man
Before they would yield to an Autocrat's rule,
Or turn back on their march to Sebastopol.
I saw the Heights of Alma, on the 20th September,
There the maiden British army first faced the foe,
There the Russian, bear, with all his ugly cubs,
Was taught to use his heels as fast as he could go.
I saw Inkermann's Heights, on that memorable foggy morn,
A name now respected by Britons not then born;
The odds were seven to one, but no desponding cry--
Remember the Heights of Alma, boys, we conquer or we die!
I've seen Inkermann's Heights and its Valleys of snow,
Where many a brave soldier a rooting did go,
In search of some fuel his breakfast to cook,
With a pick on his shoulder, and axe or bill-hook.
I've seen the Mamelon and the Malakoff tower,
When the grape shot and shell on our trenches did pour.
While Mars sat in triumph to test our renown,
And meet us with laurels as we stormed the great town.
I've seen the Quarantine Battery, Fort Paul, and the docks;
With the Bear and the Eagle contending for rocks,
And vultures in numbers near the Worrensoff road,
That once was the highway to the Russian's abode.
I've seen sorties and struggles by the Russians, 'tis true,
But their banners were stained by the Red, White and Blue,
We sent them some pills their system to cool,
Which worked them in thousands from Sebastopol.
I've seen Lord Raglan, Pellisier, and their brilliant staff,
While the band of the 7th played "Larry O'Gaff;"
I've seen Lord Brown in the trenches, for war he was ripe,
Dressed as plain as a ploughman, with a little short pipe.
I've seen the great English battery upon the green hill,
Work with deadly precision the Russians to kill;
With terrific grandeur the balls they did fly,
Illuminating the heavens like stars in the sky.
I've seen Arabs, Frenchmen, and Bashi-Bazouks,
Russians made prisoners, and sad were their looks;
Their pitiful tales I've heard them unfold
Of the hardships they suffered from hunger and cold.
I've seen General Codrington on his charger so grey,
Riding out on the bills at the dawning of day,
With an eye like an eagle and a heart like a lion,
Inspecting the trenches where soldiers were dying.
On June the 7th I saw the Allies in action,
Their heroic deeds were the source of attraction;
They fought and fought bravely, their cause to maintain,
They took the great Mamelon, but thousands were slain.
On that 7th day of June I saw the English too.
Not far from their Allies, combat with the foe;
Their deeds were praiseworthy, they never did flinch,
They took the great Quarries and the Circular Trench.
On the 18th of June I saw that disastrous fight,
Led on by young Waller, Fitzclarence, and Wright;
When our Colonel got shot, the brave daring Yea,
And many were the victims of that bloody affray.
I've seen Kazatch Bay and the great combined fleet,
Where the French and the English each other did greet;
They mixed and they mingled, the ships and ship's crew,
The Blue, White, and Red, and the Red, White, and Blue.
I've seen those interesting and gay Vivandiers
March with their soldiers with smiles and with cheers;
I've seen them on horseback astride like a man,
To describe their attractions is more than I can.
I've seen the explosion of a French magazine,
With great loss to the Emperor and our lady the Queen;
It knocked down our huts and our tents it turned o'er,
And numbers of men were never seen more.
Our troops were alarmed as the explosion it spread,
And for self-preservation from the camp they fled;
But Young Hope was active, and his part he played well,
As the missiles were flying, the round shot and shell.
Near the scene of excitement, on the top of the hill,
Stood the great magazine which they call the Windmill;
Had it once taken fire our loss had been great,
And Britain would have mourned her army's sad fate.
I've seen the brave Turner and his friend Major Peck,
Who sailed from old England to make an attack;
Though Boreas did buffet our weather-beaten screw,
She skipped o'er the billows with her Crimean-bound crew.
I've seen Monsieur Français, his eyes beaming with pride,
Take our young lads on the spree to drink his cognac;
I've seen the triangles to which men were fast tied.
While the drummers served fifty upon their bare back.
I've seen Balaclava, a magnificent sight,
With its cloud-covered castle high up on the right,
Once embellished by art, and built on the great rock,
A shelter for shipping and Nature's wild flock.
I've seen Balaclava by night and by day,
With its lofty rough mountains and foaming black sea--
The billows embracing the proud bosomed rock,
Where the porpoises sport and the seagulls do flock.
I've seen Balaclava all covered with snow,
On a cold winter's night when on sentry I'd go;
The scene it was lovely, the stars glittered bright,
Fair Luna was shining, Nature's mantle was white.
I saw the Valley of Death, where thousands lay low,
Not half of whom ever fell by the hands of the foe;
The causes are many, as well known to the State,
But I might give offence if the truth I relate.
I saw the Valley of Death, and going to the trenches,
I looked on the graves and thought of the wenches[14]
In silence lamenting some dear friend or brother,
I thought of the orphan and the heart-broken mother.
I've seen the Valley of Death, the cross and the tomb,
O'er the graves of those heroes--oh, sad was their doom;
Where the wild dogs are prowling--what a horrible sight!
Where the carrion-crows gather, and owls screech by night.
I've seen the Valley of Death--but here I will not dwell,
It would take me too long my sad story to tell;
'Tis like some pandemonium--cursed region below--
Sometimes hot like a furnace, then covered with snow.
I've seen Colonel Wellesley, who had lately come here,
A man much respected by each bold Fusilier;
His discipline was gentle, his mind was serene,
A friend to the 7th, his country, and Queen.
I've heard that our Colonel will open a school,
To teach art and science near Sebastopol;
The soldiers to cipher, to write, and to read,
Then march to the north side the Russians to bleed.
The arts and the sciences, what wonderful things,
They open up coal-beds and artesian springs;
We are going to Cronstadt in scientific tubs,
To take the old bear and all his young cubs.
I've seen one rare thing--the right man in his right place,
One Sergeant Silvester, who has charge of the peace;
He is cock of the walk, and a gander 'mong geese;
He keeps down bad morals with his rural police.
The brave sons of Britain, they never did flinch
From the bullet-swept plains, or the cold bloody trench;
They have planted their standard--who dares pull it down?
In conjunction with France, in Sebastopol town.
And now, to conclude my short but truthful tale,
I've seen those kind sisters, and the famed Nightingale,
Attending the wounded on beds that were gory,
And this is the end of my Crimean story.
By Sergt. T. GOWING,
And Private A. CRAWFORD.
CHAPTER VII.
India, its extent and resources--Its Population--Its
Invasion by Alexander--The beginning of the English Empire
in India--The East India Company and its Officers--How the
Empire was Extended--The Afghan Campaign of 1839-40-41--The
Sikh War--Battle of Ferozeshah--The Norfolk Regiment amongst
those who safeguarded England's honour--Battle of
Aliwal--The "Holy Boys" again leading the way--The Burmese
War--Our Sepoy Army and how it was treated--The Mutiny
Predicted--The Commencement of the Mutiny in
1857--Comparative Numbers of Native and British
Troops--Mungul Pandy, the first Mutineer--Fatal Indecision
of our Commanders--The Revolting Scenes at Delhi--List of
the people killed by the Rebels--The Force that first
encountered the Mutineers--Rapid spread of the Mutiny--Nana
Sahib's Proclamation--The Butchery of Women and
Children--Delhi Captured and the Mutineers put to the sword,
by a Norfolk man, Sir Archdale Wilson--The Delhi Field Force
and its killed and wounded--Vengeance exacted--Disarming
Mutinous Regiments--Description of the Scene--Blowing Rebels
from the Guns--The 10th (Lincolnshire) Regiment at Benares.
HISTORICAL SKETCH.
Before proceeding to relate my experiences during nineteen years'
service in India, and in doing so to recall some of the incidents of the
terrible Mutiny of 1857-8, I desire to say a few words respecting that
great country and its people.
India is so enormous a country that our glorious little island--of which
Englishmen are so justly proud--might be put in one corner and be
scarcely noticed. In length, from the north of Cashmere to Cape
Comorin, it is about 2,000 miles; and in breadth, from the western
border of Scinde to the extremity of Assam, it is about 1850 miles;
while through this vast extent there are but two small states (Nepaul
and Bhutan) independent of British or European rule, and even they are
subjected, more or less, to our sway. This appendage of the crown of
Britain is divided into three presidencies, viz.: Bengal, Bombay, and
Madras, the former being much the largest and most thickly populated.
The area of our Indian Empire contains 1,687,803 square miles, with a
population speaking no fewer than twenty languages, and by far exceeding
that of the whole of Europe, numbering no less than 240,938,000. From
the most remote period the inhabitants of India have been a divided
people, split up into sections or castes; and frequently the more
warlike tribes from the north and north-west made inroads into the
country, carrying death and destruction all over its extensive plains.
Alexander the Great invaded India 327 years before the Christian era,
with an army of 135,000 men, horse and foot, and conquered it, battle
after battle being fought in that part of the country now known as the
Punjaub. The last tremendous conflict took place just outside the
present City of Lahore, and the determined resistance the conqueror here
met with so enraged him that the City was ordered to be levelled to the
ground, and the brave foe distributed as slaves among the victors. The
next invasion occurred in 664 A.D., when the Arabs overran many
provinces, and in 1024 Sultan Mahmoud, extended the Mahommedan conquests
from the Oxus to the Indian Ocean, and from Bagdad to the Ganges. But,
in addition to the Arabs, the Afghans often came down from the mountains
and carried all before them, the whole country being given up to
pillage. Nothing could escape the fury of the conquerors--neither age
nor sex--all had to fall beneath the merciless fury of these enraged
Barbarians; thus frequently the fertile plains and beautiful cities of
India ran with innocent blood.
The British Empire in the East had but a small beginning; but the
ability, indomitable perseverance, and resistless valor, which have ever
been British characteristics, resulted in securing as the appendage of
the English Crown, a territory the wealth and glory of which have
excited the envy and cupidity of more than one other European State.
During the reign of Henry VIII., some of our forefathers watched the
Portuguese intercourse with India with a jealous eye, and petitioned the
King for permission to fit out two ships for discovery and traffic. That
permission was granted, and the King, having an eye to business, sent
two on his own account to accompany them. These sailed from London in
1527, but one of the King's ships was lost, and the other returned
without effecting anything. But that did not damp or daunt our
forefathers' spirits. Money was forthcoming, and other attempts were
made shortly after, in the reigns of Edward VI., Mary, and Elizabeth;
but all ended in disappointment, until in 1591, one vessel out of a
small squadron despatched from London, succeeded in reaching the Island
of Sumatra, although the voyage was profitless. Again, in 1596, another
squadron was despatched with little result. But our merchants were not
disheartened by their repeated failures, and in September, 1599, another
Company was formed to carry on trade with India. The capital amounted to
£30,000, divided into shares. There was some difficulty in raising these
shares from the belief that it would be money thrown away; but shortly
after, another Company started, this time with funds amounting to nearly
£90,000, with which capital five ships were fitted out, a fifteen years'
charter having been obtained. These were placed under command of Capt.
J. Lancaster, and sailed from Torbay, on the 22nd of April, 1601. This
little fleet, after some fourteen months' tossing about, reached the
Isle of Sumatra in 1602. The Sovereign gave the strangers a cordial
reception, with permission to build storehouses, and to establish a
factory. This was the first actual possession of Great Britain in the
East Indies. The ships all returned in safety, and the profits ran so
high (138 per cent.) that little difficulty was experienced in raising
another Company. Accordingly, in 1609, another was started, and obtained
a royal charter from James I., with exclusive power of trading in the
East Indies. They now commenced to build more storehouses at Surat. This
was the first factory on the mainland of Hindostan. Shortly after, James
I. sent out an ambassador (Sir Thomas Roe) to the great Mogul Emperor.
About this time the Company was considerably augmented, and its capital
amounted to the sum of £1,629,000. The Dutch and Portuguese showed
hostility to this venture, and united to massacre all the English they
could lay their hands upon. The French also joined with them in the
attempt to exterminate the sons of Albion, but, notwithstanding all, our
forefathers were prosperous. In 1634, permission was granted to trade
with the whole of Bengal; and shortly after, a small tract of land, five
miles long and one mile broad, was granted, with permission to built a
fort thereon. Accordingly, a snug little fort soon sprung up, named Fort
St. George. This was the cradle of the present magnificent City of
Madras. Soon after this, another settlement was made, on the Hooghly,
close to where Calcutta--the city of palaces--now stands. A fort was
built to protect our interests, and named Fort William. The government
of the Company was now transferred to Calcutta. Bombay became an
independent settlement in 1687, and the first Governor of Bombay was Sir
John Child. As yet no British troops had been sent out. The Company had
a few men to act as police, assisted by natives in our pay; but it was
nothing more nor less than a Trading Company. The instructions to the
Governors were to look after the returns of calicoes and muslins, and to
remember not to trouble themselves about territory. In 1654, the Madras
Army was reduced by an order from home to ten soldiers; but it gradually
increased in numbers, to keep in check not only the Natives, but the
French, Dutch, and Portuguese, which countries kept up strong forces,
under pretence of watching their interests, until in 1744, Louis XV. of
France, declared war against us, which aroused all the energies of the
sons of Albion. Hostilities continued, we may say, almost until 1815 (a
period of 71 years), and ended in the glorious triumph of British arms
over all their antagonists, not only in India, but in all parts of the
globe. This terrible war between France and England caused a lavish
expenditure of both life and treasure; for it was a death struggle.
Spain threw in her lot against us. The American States claimed their
independence, and both sea and land was red with blood. All parts of the
globe witnessed this terrible strife.
As far as India was concerned, all our enemies were subdued, and our
proud old flag was carried triumphant across land and sea. Our army in
India alone was raised to the enormous number of 395,000 men, exclusive
of Europeans, which numbered about 50,000 more. During this long
struggle, some of the noblest men that ever served their country sprang
forward to defend the honour of the flag. A Clive laid his pen on one
side, and carved out an empire for us. Victory followed victory, triumph
followed triumph, and on the plains of Plassey he routed 75,000 men with
4,000. He was called by the Natives "the daring in war," and was looked
upon as a sort of demi-devil that no power could withstand. Following in
his wake, a Hastings (another clerk) pushed himself to the front, and
fastened victory after victory to our standard. He was a wonderful man,
endowed with a large mind, an iron will, but a cold heart, and the eye
of an eagle. In a short time he scattered Hyder Ali's vast armies;
though this prince brought into the field 70,000 Cavalry, and Infantry
without number. But Warren Hastings dashed at them, and scattered their
wild horsemen in all directions. They were terrified, and driven in
disorderly flight from field after field. Hyder Ali died in 1782,
leaving his hatred to his son, Tippoo Saib, who fought us until he lost
all, life and kingdom into the bargain, at Seringapatam. We were then
brought face to face with another powerful chief of warlike habits.
There was no such thing as retiring, 200,000 horsemen being in the
field. These fierce tribes had to be confronted. Wellesley--the future
hero of Waterloo--was sent against them; and on the fields of Assaye and
Arganon, with a force of 8,000 men, those vast hordes, backed up by
upwards of 100 cannon, were completely routed, leaving nearly all their
guns in the hands of the victor, who had still brighter laurels to win
from more worthy foes.
In tracing the crimsoned records and mighty triumphs of our arms, we
find that a terrible battle was fought by Lord Lake, just outside the
city of Delhi, on the 11th of September, 1803. The enemy was commanded
by French officers, and fought with desperation, but to no purpose; all
had to yield to our conquering arms, and the ancient city and capital of
Hindostan lay at the conqueror's feet. Our victorious General gave the
enemy no breathing time, but followed them up, taking fortress after
fortress. Ally Ghur was stormed, Agra fell, and the ever-victorious "thin
red line" carried the sphere of British rule still further forward. The
military genius of Lake and Wellesley baffled the haughty Mahratta
chief, who was compelled to sue for peace, which was granted at the
expense of an enormous slice of territory ceded to the Company for
ever. The Company's frontier now extended to the borders of the Punjaub,
a broad and rapid river (the Sutlej) separating us from the Sikhs, a
fierce and warlike nation, who were struck with awe at our victorious
march, and remained very civil neighbours for years.
The Company's officers had now time to turn their thoughts to the better
government of the territories which their triumphant sword had
conquered. The natives soon found that their conquerors, although
redoubtable in the field, were merciful, and ruled them with justice,
which, under Native chiefs, they had never known. A restraint was at
once put upon the cruel and soul-destroying rites of "Suttee," by which
poor women, irrespective of age or position, were burnt on the funeral
pile of their deceased husbands. This was abolished by the strong arm of
the law. Some of the high caste gentlemen did not like our interference,
but a strong rope soon taught them that our Government meant to be
masters, and that our laws must be obeyed. Restraint was also put upon
all kinds of tortures to which fanaticism had annually condemned
thousands. The sacrifices at their festivals to the idol Juggernaut were
strictly prohibited. This was a huge idol, weighing some twenty tons,
dragged about by elephants; and their fanatic priests made thousands of
poor wretches believe that if they wanted to reach Paradise quickly,
they must throw themselves in front of the wheels of the carriage of
this god, and posterity would regard them as saints. The strong arm of
the law put an end to that. Again, the unnatural practice of infanticide
had to be grappled with. This was the practice of destroying female
children. Our people gave them to understand that it was murder, and
that a murderer should die, whether Native or European. The law being
vigorously carried out, quickly stopped this. Again, the horrible
practice of "Thuggee" was attacked, but it took years to stamp that
out. Whilst this was tolerated no traveller was safe for a moment, for
he never knew at what corner he might have a rope thrown over his head
and be strangled, for no other crime than that of appearing respectable.
The poor Natives found out that under our flag the rich could not
oppress them; and, again, the rich and haughty found that money could
not save them if they broke the law--all must obey or take the
consequences. Accordingly, the country gradually settled down, and the
people became good law-abiding subjects. Although we had conquered some
of the strongest princes on the plains of India, yet there was more work
for us to do, and we had to be continually on the watch.
In 1826, the Rajah of Bhurtpore threw down the gauntlet at our feet,
depending upon his impregnable fortress. But a Combermere was close at
hand. He had routed the French Imperial Guards from the field of
Waterloo, and, under his Lordship's guidance, Bhurtpore was stormed and
taken, and the whole of the proud Rajah's territories were confiscated.
Our arms, however, received a check from the brave little Ghoorkas in
the Nepaul Hills. Our people fought them for years, but they have never
been subjugated; yet to this day many of them are our friends and
Allies. We have thousands of them in our army, and noble fellows they
are.
We did not gain much by our first Afghan Campaign, in 1839-40-41, though
the Afghans were eventually subdued. From 1841 to 1849, our army, or
armies, were continually in the field. Scinde was conquered by Sir
Charles Napier, and added to the Company's territory. The Rajah of
Gwalior began to show his teeth, but the battles of Maharajpore and
Punniar, both fought on the 29th December, 1843, brought him to the
conqueror's feet. The Mahratta Chief likewise lost his strong fortress,
Gwalior, which stands upon a rocky eminence, the sides of which are
almost perpendicular and appear impregnable. The disastrous Afghan
Campaign had brought discredit upon our arms, but our officers and men
made the enemy respect them. The fault rested with the head of that
army. Through favouritism, a feeble old man who could not walk, and
scarcely ride, was placed in command. He was an honourable gentleman,
kind-hearted, and his courage never could be questioned. He had once
been a good soldier, but was now completely broken down and crippled
with gout. This was the man that our red-tape gentlemen sent to command
our field forces in Afghanistan, and then they complained because one
disaster followed another! However, another army was soon formed, called
"the avenging army," to cut out the survivors that were holding on for
bare life at Jellalabad. A part of our army, by permission, marched
through the Punjaub. The Sikhs, a brave and warlike race of people, had
heard of the disorganized state of that army, and a disaster will not
lose anything in transit through India. Our mishap in the Boulan Pass
was magnified into the destruction of the whole of the Feringhee army.
But the Sikhs remained quiet until the end of 1845, when they crossed
the Sutlej and invaded our dominions, without any warning or declaration
of war. An army was got together as quickly as possible to confront
them, commanded by the hero of Barrosa, Sir Hugh Gough, K.C.B., &c.,
(afterwards Lord Gough). The Governor-General at the time was the hero
of Albuera, Lord Hardinge. With two such men as these the honour of the
British Empire in the East was safe. The enemy was first confronted on
the field of Moodkee, December 18th, 1845. The Sikhs fought well, but
came off second best, with the loss of seventeen guns. They retired in
good order, and took up a formidable position at the village of
Ferozeshah, and there set the conquerors of India at defiance. On the
21st December, 1845, Sir Hugh Gough's army attacked them in their
strong position. The resistance that our people met with was unexpected,
for guns were dismounted, ammunition waggons blown into the air, our
matchless Cavalry were checked in full charge, and battalion after
battalion of Infantry were hurled back, with their ranks shattered, the
enemy still holding their ground when darkness obscured the scene. Our
people were thrown into sad confusion by the bloody repulses they had
received--men of all regiments and arms being mixed together, officers
and men groping about in the dark trying to find their regiments. A
portion of the enemy's position had been captured, but their line was
still unbroken. Our men lay down that night cold, weary, and supperless,
and hardly masters of the ground they slept upon. Our Commanders
anxiously awaited the morning light, the undaunted heroes of Barrosa and
Albuera moving from regiment to regiment, saying a few kind words to
each, to encourage and animate the men to the performance of desperate
deeds. The supremacy of our power was in the keeping of the 9th
(Norfolk) regiment, 29th, 31st, 50th, 62nd, 80th, 101st, and a number of
Native regiments. But, reader, it was safe. Lord Hardinge, with the eye
of an eagle, could see that it would be "do or die" with these gallant
men. He voluntarily placed his sword at the disposal of the
Commander-in-chief, and served in a subordinate position under the flag
he loved so well. The morning of the 22nd arrived. Our men arose from
their cold bed, breakfastless, with nothing to comfort them, their foes
still frowning upon them. Sir Hugh Gough placed himself in front of the
right wing, and Lord Hardinge in front of the left. The whole army was
then ordered to advance; the queen of weapons was brought out, and then,
with a ringing cheer, and a headlong bayonet charge, the struggle was
brought to an end. Thus the enemy were routed, leaving all their guns in
the hands of the victors.
At the battle of Aliwal (28th January, 1846), the enemy were again
defeated in a masterly style by General Sir Harry Smith. But yet another
terrible battle had to be fought before the enemy were driven from our
side the river. They took up a strong entrenched position at Sobraon, on
the banks of the Sutlej. Our heavy siege guns opened upon their
entrenchments on the morning of the 10th of February, 1846, and for
hours they kept it up. The Sikhs stood to their guns unappalled, and
returned flash for flash, and shot for shot, nothing daunted. Our
matchless Infantry were then formed up and advanced to the attack, the
Norfolk regiment (9th, or holy boys) leading the way. The Sikhs fought
with determination, but recoiled in confusion from the desperate bayonet
charge. The enemy's supports and reserves coming up, they fought
fiercely, but to no purpose, for some thousands of them were charged
into the river, and drowned in its wide and rapid current. Our
victorious army now crossed the Sutlej, and marched on to Lahore, and
under its walls dictated terms of peace to the enemy. But the peace was
of short duration, for in 1848 these warlike tribes again defied us and
murdered our political agents. This war commenced with the siege of
Mooltan, which was taken after some hard fighting. It was here that the
valuable Koh-i-noor was captured and presented to Her Majesty. Sir Hugh
Gough then fought the doubtful field of Chillianwala, December 2nd,
1848. We had but a handful of men on the field, and it was "touch and
go" with us; but the enemy retired next day, and we claimed the victory.
It was on this field that the 61st immortalised themselves. They were
led by Brigadier-General Sir Colin Campbell, afterwards Lord Clyde.
Reinforcements were poured into the Punjaub, and the crowning battle of
Goojerat was fought on the 21st of January, 1849. This was principally
an Artillery and Cavalry fight. Some of the batteries had exhausted all
their ammunition, and charged the enemy with their guns. They brought
the right wheels of the guns to bear upon the front faces of the enemy's
squares, thereby smashing them and letting the Cavalry in, when the
whole army was routed. All their guns--160 in number--fell into our
hands, and their army at once laid down their arms at the feet of the
conquerors. The whole of the Punjaub was now annexed to the British
dominions. A good slice was likewise taken from the Afghans, as a
punishment for treachery, for they pretended to be our friends, yet
thousands of them had been found fighting against us in the late
battles; so, from the river Attock to the mouth of the Khyber Pass was
added to British India, Peshawur being our frontier station.
* * * * *
In 1852 the Burmese broke their treaty with us. A strong force was,
therefore, at once despatched to punish them, and it did not take long
to satisfy them, or knock the conceit of fighting out of the head of the
"King of Two Worlds," while another nice little slice was added to our
already overgrown dominions.
* * * * *
In all the fights--from Plassey (June 23rd, 1757,) to 1852--the Sepoys
had fought well by the side of our troops, and had frequently shown a
gallant spirit. At the storming of Bhurtpore our regiments were driven
back with frightful slaughter, when these noble fellows boldly stepped
forward to lead another assault, and actually walked over their own
comrades' dead bodies into the place! They were brave enough for
anything, and would go anywhere and do anything when led by British
officers; but they were afterwards (as the following pages will prove)
spoilt by injudicious though well-meant kindness, and their minds were
poisoned against us by fanatics.
OUTBREAK OF THE MUTINY.
This India--the brightest gem in Her Most Gracious Majesty's crown, was
shaken to its foundation in 1857. It was held by a few desperate
Britons, who could well lay claim to the motto of Napoleon's old guard:
"They might die, but not surrender."
The Mutiny had been predicted by a far-seeing man--Sir Charles
Napier--years before the Bengal army showed their teeth, for Sir Charles
wrote to the Government of India when he was Commander-in-chief, telling
them that some of these mornings the much-pampered Sepoys would find out
their strength, and that they would upset the King, the King would upset
the magazine, and the magazine would be ignited, and blow up both King
and country. Sir Charles was not liked by the directors of the East
India Company, and was sent home, but his every word came true. He told
them how to avoid it, but they laughed at him. Had that grand old
soldier's advice been taken, England would not have had to mourn over
the horrible tragedies of 1857-8-9, when her supremacy hung in the
balance, and for a time it was doubtful whether we should not have to
reconquer the whole of India.
* * * * *
I will now try and trace the Mutiny from its commencement, and describe
some of the most revolting scenes as far as it is prudent to mention
them; but there were many sights that no pen can or would dare to
describe. The blood runs cold to think of poor helpless
creatures--delicately nurtured ladies and children--in the hands of such
bloodthirsty fiends; but stern vengeance was inflicted before we had
done with them.
* * * * *
Our Commanders were now called upon to undertake a most trying military
operation, viz., to wage war against a fanatic enemy, formidable in
numbers and resources, with an inadequate force at their disposal. The
following table will show the strength of our several armies in India,
at the commencement of the Mutiny:--
Total.
Bengal Army {Europeans 22,698}
{Natives 118,663} 141,361.
Madras Army {Europeans 10,194}
{Natives 49,737} 59,931.
Bombay Army {Europeans 5,109}
{Natives 31,601} 36,710.
India therefore contained, in January, 1857, in the Company's service:--
European Troops 38,001
Natives, exclusive of Irregulars 200,001
-------
Grand Total 238,002
-------
It was the Bengal Native army that had been trained by us with so much
care, that now put their masters at defiance, and carried torture and
death throughout the land. It was just 100 years since the first
regiment of the Bengal army was raised by Lord Clive in 1757, and from
that date it had been gradually increasing until, in May, 1857, it
numbered no fewer than 350,000[15] well-armed and well-drilled men,
officered by some of the best blood of Britain. Some of the foremost of
our generals had fought in its ranks--Clive, Lake, Beard, Wellington,
Hastings, Hardinge, Gough, Evans, Brown, Campbell, Havelock, Outram,
Hudson, and others, had frequently led that deluded army on to victory.
With such men the Bengal army had carved out a name for themselves and
an empire for old England, but in 1857, through mismanagement, this army
was, with a few bright exceptions, in a state of insubordination or open
mutiny. From beginning to end the officers had had unbounded confidence
in their men. In many cases they doubted the faithfulness of other
regiments, but looked upon their own as thoroughly reliable, and blindly
kept with them until they were shot down by the very men whom they had
for years commanded or patted on the back and treated as children. The
fact is, our people had played with the cat until she found out she
could use her claws.
But the Government was determined to grapple with the Mutineers; and,
during the fifteen months ending April, 1858, 47,000 men from England
were landed in India to uphold the supremacy of our rule. All that was
wanted was a few men with clear heads, honest, upright, and fearless.
And we had them. The right man was soon put into the right place--Sir
Colin Campbell, afterwards Lord Clyde. This grand old hero quickly
collected around him men with heads as clear and hearts as fearless as
his own, to lead the troops on from victory to victory, until the last
spark of rebellion was well stamped out, and the murderers and would-be
murderers were cringing at our feet.
Many of the Natives were under the impression that nearly the whole of
the British army had been destroyed by the Russians in front of
Sebastopol, and that we had no more to send out. But they were speedily
undeceived, for, as I have said, no fewer than 47,000 British troops
were landed in India within little more than a year after the first
evidence of the outbreak.
THE FIRST MUTINEER.
The spirit of insubordination first showed itself in the 34th Native
Regiment, at Barrackpore, and the first victim was the Sergeant-Major
"Hewson." The Adjutant went at once to the rescue of his Sergeant-Major,
but his horse was shot, and before he could get disengaged from his
charger he was cut down; the wounded Sergeant-Major rushed to the
assistance of his officer, but was felled to the earth like a bullock
with the butt end of a rifle. A strong guard was looking on all the
time, but would not interfere. A Sepoy, named Mungul Pandy, was the
first mutineer. He was hung.
In the early part of January, 1857, placards were posted in various
places, calling upon all the faithful and true believers to rise against
the English infidels, and drive them from India, or destroy them root
and branch, and proclaiming a holy war against us (all those who fell in
such a war would be venerated as martyrs). The 34th Native Regiment, as
I before remarked, appear to have been the ringleaders in this bloody
revolt. The 19th Natives were _en route_ to Barrackpore, which is about
sixteen miles from Calcutta, and had arrived within eight miles, when a
deputation from the 34th met them, with the proposition that they should
unite, set fire to all the bungalows, surprise and massacre all
Europeans, old and young, rich and poor, secure the guns, and then march
into, sack, and destroy Calcutta. The 19th were hardly ripe enough for
that, but they kept all knowledge of the proposal to themselves. The
Government could not believe that the army would rise, but thought the
disturbance only began and ended in the plot of a few bad characters;
they were, however, suddenly awakened to a sense of danger.
On the 10th of May, 1857, the Mutiny burst forth in all its fury
at Meerut. It was Sunday, and the cowardly brutes waited until the
European troops were in church before moving. There were two splendid
regiments there, besides Artillery, and if they had only been let
loose, not a man of the three regiments that started the Mutiny would
have lived to tell the tale. The troops in the cantonment consisted of
the following:--6th Dragoon Guards, 60th Rifles, and two batteries of
Bengal Artillery (all Europeans); Natives, 11th and 20th Infantry, and
3rd Cavalry. Every man, woman, and child (Europeans) that fell in their
way was murdered. And, as an eye-witness of some of these scenes, I
can say that every horror, making war hideous, attended this dreadful
outbreak. The cry of murder from poor defenceless women and children
echoed throughout the land. Death in all modes was rampant--from the
sword, bayonet, water, flames, and starvation. The barbarity of these
fiends has never been equalled. The number who perished during that
unparalleled revolt will never be known.
The reader will ask, "What were our men doing?" Their hands were tied.
They had an "old woman" in command, and he was fearful that if he let
the Cavalry and Artillery loose some of the "bungalows" might get burnt.
There was the whole station in a blaze, and yet not a sword was drawn to
save a single life until the mutineers had thought fit to move off to
Delhi! One of the officer's wives might well exclaim, "Oh, agony! what a
night! Every house in sight was blazing; shots were fired at me; some of
our men at last dashed into our compound (garden). I saw the Cavalry
uniform. 'Come, come,' I shouted, 'and save me;' 'Fear nothing,' shouted
the first man, 'No one shall injure you.' Oh how I thanked them. If our
Artillery and Dragoons had been let loose, the Mutineers would never
have reached Delhi." The three regiments of rebels at once marched off
to Delhi--37 miles, and the Cavalry reached it next day at 8 a.m. The
three regiments of Native Infantry at Delhi--38th, 54th, and
74th--received the 3rd Cavalry with open arms, and allowed their
officers to be cut or shot down by them without attempting to defend
them.
THE SCENES AT DELHI.
In describing the revolting scenes at Delhi, I will quote the words of
those who had the misfortune to be there. The officers of all the
regiments, viz., 38th, 54th, and 74th, and the Artillery, had the
greatest confidence in their men, and at once marched them to attack the
Mutineers just arrived from Meerut. But, poor deluded men, they were
soon let into the terrible secret; their own men turned their arms upon
them and at once shot them, or allowed the Meerut contingent to ride up
to them and cut them down, exclaiming, "Feringhee! Ko! Maro,
Maro!"--kill the Englishmen; kill, kill. Then the carnage commenced.
What a scene! The Mutineers united to exterminate all that they could
lay their hands upon, without distinction of age or sex--all that those
bloody-thirsty wretches could reach were launched into eternity, for no
other crime than that they had a white face. No pen can describe the
awful deeds of these cowardly villains. Poor defenceless creatures were
cut and hacked to pieces, after being stripped and subjected to
brutality ten times worse than death. Poor women were hunted up by these
fiends, and, when found, were dragged from their hiding-places and
tortured. I will just give a few instances to show how they were
treated. After some of these poor creatures had been subjected to worse
than death, they were tied to trees in a state of nudity, old and young,
their children were then tortured before them, by being cut limb from
limb, one joint at a time, and the flesh was crammed down the parents'
throats; wives, and in many cases young maidens, were ravished before
the eyes of husbands and fathers; they were then mutilated in a manner
too horrible to relate, and burnt to death in one common pile. Others,
pretty, very pretty girls, were seized, stripped naked, tied to a cart,
and taken into the midst of these brutes to be violated; while many
died under the brutal treatment they received. Can the reader wonder,
after reading these details--which give only a very faint idea of the
horrors that attended this mutiny--that our men retaliated? They would
not have been human had they not, at the bare recital of such deeds,
been wrought up to a state bordering on madness. British soldiers could
not stand this. They crossed their bayonets and swore to give no
quarter, but that they would have a life for every hair that had been
dishonoured by these scoundrels! And they kept their word.
The public will never know a hundredth part of the sufferings of our
poor fellow-countrywomen in that hellish Mutiny of 1857-8. The
narratives of those who escaped the fiendish rage and brutality and lust
that characterised the proceedings of the Mutineers during that black
month of May, 1857, are enough to make one's blood curdle in the veins--
On horror's head horrors accumulate.
I am most happy, however, to be able to record that there were a few
Natives who, in the midst of those scenes of blood, proved to the world
that they still retained feelings of humanity, and who nobly stood
forward to defend the defenceless (although of the same creed and caste
as the bloodthirsty villains by whom those horrors were perpetrated),
and some of them proved faithful to the last, even unto death. The
escape of many of the fugitives was miraculous, and one can trace the
hand of Providence working through it all. In some few instances they
managed to cut their way through their would-be murderers with a good
sword and a strong arm. In one case, a gentleman, when he found that all
was lost, and that there was no mercy to be expected from the hands of
those whom he had previously commanded, compelled his syce (groom), with
a revolver at his head, to put his horses into his carriage, in which he
immediately placed his wife and family. Armed to the teeth, he drove
off along the road to Kurnaul. He had not gone far when he was summoned
by a small party of the Mutineers to stop, but, handing the reins to his
poor wife, he shot three of them dead and pushed on. Finding, however,
that he was pursued, he at once placed his children at the bottom of the
carriage, and prepared to sell his life, and the lives of those near and
dear to him, dearly. Being well armed, as fast as his would-be murderers
came near him he shot them dead. His wife was wounded by a shot from one
of the villains, but he still kept on his way--it was life or death. One
of his boys kept loading for his father, and thus this gentleman managed
to bring down upwards of fifteen of his pursuers in about 12 minutes. He
then thought that, as they had dropped to the rear, all might go well;
so he easied his horses a little and stopped to look at his poor wife,
when to his horror he found that she had been shot dead, with her babe
at her breast--one ball had launched them both into eternity. In twenty
miles he was six times stopped after that, but on each occasion he
responded to the call by rolling his assailants over. He lived to help
to storm Delhi, and there revenge his poor wife and child.
A SURVIVOR'S NARRATIVE.
But, reader, the scenes that were enacted in the interior of that guilty
city would baffle the imagination. I will try and describe a few of
them, though language would utterly fail me were I to attempt to
pourtray them in adequate terms. A number of gentlemen employed at the
various banks and public offices, the greater portion of whom lived in
the city, being burdened with large families, were unable to procure
means of escape. It was reported to Mr. ---- by one of his servants
that there was an uproar in the city, that the Cavalry from Meerut were
murdering all the Europeans they could lay their hands upon, and that
the Bud-mashes of the city (rogues or villains) had joined them. He did
not know what to do, and waited for a time to see what would turn up.
"In the mean time," he says, "we held a prayer meeting, and committed
ourselves into His keeping, whose arm I knew was not shortened. I then
took a walk down the street and found it empty. I was armed with a good
stick, and at a distance I could see a large crowd of men, all armed
with lattees (sticks shod with iron) or talwars (swords). I offered a
silent prayer for protection. I had promised my poor wife that I would
not be gone long. I at once turned back, for I could distinctly hear
them shouting and shrieking like madmen, 'Maro Feringhee!'--kill the
English. I had not got far when I found that there was another party in
front of me, so I did not know what to do, as they had got between me
and my house. I at once bolted down a narrow lane, and they after me,
shouting--'Maro, Maro Feringhee!' One man tried to stop me. He had a
talwar in his hand, but I managed to knock him down with my stick, while
I received a wound in my shoulder, and passed on. I continued to dodge
them, but could not get home, being hidden all day in a faithful
Hindoo's house. In the afternoon I succeeded in getting close up to my
own house, and called one of my servants, but could not make any one
hear. At last I made up my mind to go home at all hazards. I had not
gone many yards when I met some Natives whom I knew well, and they told
me to save myself. I got home as quickly as possible. I heard some one
crying in one of my outhouses, and soon found out that it was a faithful
servant of mine--an old man who had been in our service for upwards of
twenty years. I called him by name, and when he saw me he, poor old man,
burst out crying the louder, saying, 'Oh, Sahib, they have killed them
all, they have killed them all,' wringing his hands in agony. I felt
very faint, and requested him to give me a little water. It is
impossible for me to describe my feelings. I sat down and asked the dear
old creature to tell me all about it and how it happened. He again burst
out crying, but after a time collected himself. I repeated 'Now do tell
me.' 'Oh, Sahib,' he said, 'when you had gone, Mem Sahib (lady) and all
the children sat together, Mem Sahib was very frightened; we could hear
a great noise, and the guns firing, and another Sahib next door loaded
his gun, and shortly after a crowd came and went into the Sahib's house.
They were all armed with talwars and spears, and all went into the
Sahib's. The Sahib asked them what they wanted, when they commenced to
abuse him, and told him that all Feringhees had to die. The servants all
ran away--I only remained behind, and they told me if I did not go they
would kill me. The Sahib told them to take what they liked, but not to
kill us, or they would be hung. They abused him very much, and went up
to his Mem Sahib and began to pinch her. She called upon the Sahib to
protect her. The Sahib called out in a terrible voice, 'Thome sawur'
(you pig), and shot the would-be murderer dead, and with another barrel
shot another who had just killed one of his children, and then laid
about them with the butt-end of his rifle, and with two revolvers he
soon had a heap of dead all around him. But at last he was overpowered
and killed, and they then set to and murdered all in the house; and they
hit me, and told me again if I did not go they would kill me. I then ran
to my Mem Sahib to try and protect her, but they threw me out of the
house, and some of them said 'Kill him,' others said 'He is an old man,
let him go.' They then killed all, and took away what they liked. I
could listen to no more, but requested him to come into the house with
me. I first went into my neighbour's house, for I felt so bad that I
could not face my own. Oh, horror of horrors! the first sight that I
caught was that of a fine little fellow crucified to the wall; this
cruel death the poor mother had been compelled to witness. They had then
killed all the other children, and next stripped the poor mother naked
and dishonoured her (she, poor thing, being far advanced in pregnancy),
while her husband was lying dead beside her. What an end to come to! I
sat down, for I thought my heart would burst. I sat for some time, and
then went to my own door. I rapped at the door, but could not enter. I
thought my brain would have turned. I was determined, however, to see
all, if possible; but language fails to describe that horrible sight.
All that was near and dear to me in this world lay mutilated on the
ground. Oh, the intense agony I was in! I was now completely exhausted;
how long I remained there I could not say. At last a feeling of revenge
seemed to take hold of me. I jumped up, and went and found my revolvers
(for I had two good ones). I loaded them, and then sat down by the side
of my poor wife. I had not been there more than half-an-hour, when two
men came in and called out in a commanding voice 'Khon hy' (who are
you?) I remained quiet, and they came up to me and shouted, 'Feringhee,
Feringhee; Maro Feringhee Ko.' I at once brought my revolver into play,
and shot the fellow dead; he fell upon my poor wife, and before the
other had time to move one yard I had the pleasure of dropping him, and
finishing him off with his own sword, which, by the bye, was a good
English blade. They were hardly down when three others came rushing in.
It was then getting dusk, and they got a light; but I had my revenge,
and shot the whole of them--two of them dead on the spot, and the third
wounded; he tried to get away, but I caught him before he reached the
door, and put a ball through his head. I knew it would not do for me to
stop there, so I mustered all the strength I could, kissed my poor wife
and five children--all cold in death. I found another good revolver that
one of my would-be murderers had dropped, and some ball and powder. My
good old servant dressed me up, and I passed out of the city as a
Native. I started for Meerut next morning. I was joined by another
fugitive who had escaped with bare life. I armed him with a revolver and
sword, and we determined to sell our lives as dearly as possible. My
poor comrade's rashness nearly cost us our lives. A villain called us
Feringhees, and urged one that was with him to 'Mar Feringhee Ko!' My
comrade at once shot them both, and we took across the fields for it
then!"
The following is a list of people killed at Delhi, on that terrible 11th
of May, 1857:--Mr. S. Fraser, C.S., resident and governor-general's
agent; Capt. Douglas, 32nd native infantry, assistant and commandant of
palace guards; the Rev. M. A. Jennings, chaplain, and Miss Jennings;
Miss Clifford, Mr. Berresford, secretary, Delhi bank, Mrs. Berresford,
and five children; Mr. R. Nixon, assistant to resident, Mr. and Mrs.
Collins, and six children, Mrs. Fuller, Mr. and Mrs. Skinner and child,
Colonel Ripley, 54th native infantry, Captains Burrowes and Smith, 54th
native infantry, Dr. Dopping, Lieutenant Edwardes, Captain Gordon, 74th,
Lieutenant Hyslop, 74th, Lieutenant Reveley, 74th, Mrs. Staines and
family, and a large number of government and bank clerks, press
_employes_, sergeants, conductors, &c., with their wives and families;
also Mr. J. P. Macwhirter, C.S., of Kurnaul (on a visit), Mr.
Hutchinson, C.S., magistrate and collector Mr. A. Galloway, C.S.,
assistant to ditto, Mrs. Colonel Forster, Mr. F. Taylor, principal Delhi
college, Mr. S. G. T. Heatly, editor of the _Delhi Gazette_, Mrs.
Heatly, mother and child, the Rev. Hubbard, missionary, the Rev. Sandes,
ditto, Lieut. Raynor, commissary of ordnance, and family. The following
escaped, though many of them were subsequently killed or
wounded:--Brigadier H. M. Graves, Capt. Nicoll (major of brigade), Mr.
C. T. Le Bas, C.S., C. and S. Judge, Sir T. J. Metcalfe, joint
magistrate and deputy collector, Mrs. Fraser, Mrs. Tronson, Dr. Balfour,
Miss Smith, Mr. and Mrs. Wagentreiber, and infant, Miss Haldane, Lieut.
Forrest, Mrs. Forrest and two Miss Forrests, Dr. Stewart, garrison
surgeon, Dr. Batson, 74th native infantry, Mrs. Batson and Miss Batson,
Mrs. Major Abbott (74th) and family, Major Abbott, Major Paterson, 54th,
Colonel Knyvett, 38th, Capt. Tytler, 38th, Lieuts. Holland and Gambier,
38th, Dr. Wood, 38th, Mrs. Wood, Lieut. Peile, 38th, Mrs. Peile, Lieuts.
Taylor, Grant, Mew, and Drummond, 74th, Mr. L. Berkeley, principal
Sudder Ameen, Mrs. Berkeley and Infant, Capt. De Tessier, artillery,
Mrs. De Tessier, and Lieutenant Willoughby. In addition to the above, a
very great number fell under the murderous swords and rifles of the
Mutineers, on that terrible 11th of May, whose names were never known.
The above list was published in the _Delhi Gazette_. Five officers only
escaped that massacre. The scenes in that bloodthirsty city were beyond
all conception. Innocent babes were thrown up and caught on the bayonets
of these villains. Some of the poor defenceless women were spared for a
few days in order to be tortured, and then hacked to pieces, while their
dear babes were dashed on the pavement before them; and others were tied
to trees and shot. The Natives themselves stood a very poor chance, with
this lawless band of murderers around them; whatever they thought they
wanted they took, and if a shopkeeper said one word he was shot, under
pretence that he was favouring the Europeans.
The rebels were now in full possession of Delhi, and they commenced
strengthening the place, for they knew well that the dreaded Feringhees
would soon be after them; for the Government was now busy collecting
all the available troops that could be relied upon; and it was only upon
the Europeans troops that they could rely, for the whole of the Bengal
army was either in open arms against us, or were doubtful friends; and
it is far better to have an open enemy, then one knows how to deal with
him. So at all stations where there were Europeans, the Natives had
their teeth drawn (_i.e._ they were disarmed and dismissed).
THE GREASED CARTRIDGES.
I will now leave the rebels at Delhi for a time, and proceed to Umballah
to notice the steps taken by the Commander-in-chief. It was here that
the much-talked-of "cartridge difficulty" came to a head, but it is not
my province to enter into any lengthened explanation as to the origin of
the allegation as to greased cartridges having been issued--the matter
having been much discussed at the time both at home and in India.
However, the dissatisfaction of the Native troops now exhibited symptoms
of increasing strength, so that at length the European officers
suggested the expediency of discontinuing the issue of cartridges. With
this view the Commander-in-chief coincided, and he issued a general
order withdrawing the cartridges, and ordering ammunition to be made up
by each regiment for its own use. But though many of the Natives
professed to be satisfied by this step, it soon became evident that the
excitement was by no means allayed. Incendiary fires broke out in all
directions, and a vast amount of government and native property was
destroyed. About the middle of May (the date of the outbreak at Meerut)
many of the Native troops seized their arms, as if expecting a
simultaneous movement on the part of their comrades elsewhere, and an
outbreak appeared imminent, but the judicious interference and counsel
of some of the Native officers availed to calm them, though the conduct
of the Native troops was still far from satisfactory to the Europeans
near. The Commander-in-chief had gone to Simla for the season, and as
soon as the news reached there of the deeds of the Mutineers at Delhi,
all the available troops were ordered to march at once on Umballah. It
was now, as I have said, about the middle of May, and the heat was
something fearful. But the supremacy of Old England hung in the balance,
and heat or no heat these noble regiments marched forward to measure
their strength against bloodthirsty villains, and they went from victory
to victory. The cowardly brutes could murder poor defenceless women and
innocent children, but they soon found out, to their cost, that our arm
was not shortened, and before four months were over the cringing fiends
had paid with their lives for the unspeakably atrocious murders
perpetrated. The horrible scenes enacted were enough to make one's blood
run cold, and I dare not attempt to recount them.
THE AVENGING ARMY.
But the avenging army was now on the track, and although it was only a
small one, every man composing it was worth his weight in gold to the
Government. The head of the Mutiny must be crushed before it had time to
collect its forces. The 60th Rifles, 6th Carabineers, and Major Tombs'
battery of Horse Artillery from Meerut, had the honour of first opening
the ball. The old 60th gave it them in right good style; and the
gentlemen from Delhi got a taste of the Carabineers, but, not having an
appetite for any more of such treatment, bolted into the city, leaving
all their guns behind them. This force was afterwards joined by one
from Umballah, and then marched upon the doomed city, which they were
not strong enough to attack, so they pitched their camp on the parade
ground, telling the Mutineers plainly that a day of retribution was at
hand, that every English bayonet was destined to exact revenge--yea, a
fearful revenge--for their murdered countrymen and countrywomen, and the
poor helpless children.
AT BENARES AND ALLAHABAD.
A YOUTHFUL HERO.
The whole country was now up in arms, and that vast empire that had
taken us 100 years to build up, was shaken to its foundations. But it
was held with a tenacious grasp by men whose heads had been screwed on
right, backed by those who had been worked up to a state of madness or
desperation by the fiend-like deeds of the brutes whom previously we had
drilled, fought side by side with, and pampered, while they had looked
upon our kindness as a sign of weakness. The revolt was spreading with
rapidity. Cantonments all over the country were in flames. Benares, the
holy city, was in a blaze. But the Mutineers had a very short life of it
there. That noble, brave man, Colonel Neill, dropped in upon them with a
portion of his Madras Fusiliers--the present 103rd Fusiliers--and at
once put them to flight. The troops in Benares were the 37th N.
Infantry, a Sikh regiment, and the 13th Irregular Cavalry. The odds were
heavy against our men--1500 against 500--and they had just come in from
a long march. But the dreaded "Gorahs" (English soldiers) were too many
for them. Troops were now being fast pushed up the country. Although the
heat was something terrible--it was over 100 degrees in the shade--the
excitement kept our men up. The following regiments were moving up
country by road and water as fast as they could: 64th, 78th Highlanders,
and 84th--all shaping for Allahabad. But none of them arrived in time to
save the unfortunate officers of the 6th N. Infantry. The Mutineers had
been playing a double game, and had deceived all their officers, whom
they butchered without the slightest show of mercy. It was a
bloodthirsty act. All, or nearly all, the officers of that unfortunate
regiment were assembled at their mess-house on the 5th June, 1857, when
they were shot or bayoneted by the very men whom they had so lately
commanded. These officers had put implicit confidence in their men, they
having only a few days previously presented a petition to the Government
requesting that they might be led against the Mutineers at Delhi; but
they and the 3rd Oude Irregular Cavalry murdered all they could lay
their hands upon, and pillaged the city, shooting or cutting down all
who stood in their way. A noble young hero--a boy--here stood forth in
brightest colours. I will give the account as it appeared in the native
papers, as it is too good to be abridged. When the wretched 6th N.
Infantry and 3rd Oude Irregular Cavalry mutinied at Allahabad and
murdered their officers, an ensign only 16 years of age--a Mr. Arthur M.
H. Chuk--was left for dead amongst the rest. He escaped in the darkness
to a ravine, and, although desperately wounded, contrived to get up into
a tree; but on the fifth day he was discovered, and dragged by the
brutal sepoys before one of their leaders, to have what little life
there was left in him extinguished. There he found a Native Christian,
being tormented and tortured in order to induce him to renounce the
Christian faith. The firmness of the poor Native was giving way, under
the tortures that he, poor thing, was undergoing. The young officer,
after anxiously watching him for a short time, cried out with a loud
voice, "Oh, my friend, come what may, do not deny the Lord Jesus." Just
at that moment the gallant Colonel Neill, with his Madras Fusiliers,
dashed in among them, and thus saved the Native Christian. But the young
martyr had passed beyond the reach of human cruelty. He had entered into
rest--that rest that is prepared for all those who are faithful to the
end. Reader, what a glorious end for one so young!
Colonel Neill had come just in time to save the Fort of Allahabad, as
the only Europeans there were a few invalid Artillerymen. All the
non-military were at once armed, and formed up as militia, determined to
fight desperately for their lives. The gallant Colonel was resolved to
give the enemy no rest, and, with 200 of his Fusiliers and a few guns,
he made Allahabad a little too hot for them. Reinforcements were now
coming up the country as fast as possible. A column was quickly formed
to be pushed on to Cawnpore. In the meantime, horrible accounts kept
coming in from all parts of Bengal. Jhansie was lost; the men, women,
and children, had all been massacred. They made a noble stand in a
little fort, as long as they had any food; but at last had to give in
for the want of provisions. They evacuated the fort under a faithful
promise that their lives should be spared; but as soon as the rebels had
got their arms from them, they set to and tied them to trees, subjecting
both male and female, old and young, to treatment too horrible to
mention--deeds such as have no equal except at Cawnpore. I am sorry to
have to record that the "Ranee," Queen of Jhansie, was at the head of
this rising, and this fiend in the form of woman is believed to have
stood by and given the order to slaughter our poor defenceless women and
children, after they had suffered worse than death itself. Nowgong and
Saugor were gone, and all that could not escape were shot down. Some of
the officers managed to escape with their lives by riding night and day
to Agra.
[Illustration: THE SCENE OF THE MASSACRES AT CAWNPORE.
(MORNING OF 17TH JULY, 1857).
_Black spots on ground and pillars represents Blood._]
NANA SAHIB AT CAWNPORE.
All eyes were now directed to Cawnpore and Lucknow. Sir H. Wheeler was
at the former place with the 1st Light Cavalry, 53rd and 56th, two
batteries of Artillery, some Oude Irregular Cavalry, and some 500 or 600
of Nana Sahib's troops--this gentleman being supposed, up to the
present, to be loyal to our Government. All the reliable forces that
Gen. Sir H. Wheeler had consisted of a number of officers who had made
their way as Fugitives from other stations and the officers of the
above-named regiments, together with detachments from the following
regiments that had been pushed up country: a few of the Madras
Fusiliers, about 60 men of the 84th, and a company of the 32nd from
Lucknow. His whole force consisted of about 250 fighting men, including
officers, with whom he had to protect no fewer than 520 defenceless
women and children. Had it not been for these poor creatures he would
have cut his way through to Allahabad. Being compelled to retire to his
intrenchments, he defended himself against a host, although cut off from
all communications. The rebels first thought of marching off to Delhi,
to join with those who were trying to exterminate the Feringhees. But
the wily Nana Sahib persuaded them to return to Cawnpore first, and to
destroy all the English in that place--old and young, rich and poor, all
had to die. In order to induce them to do so, he promised double pay if
they would only fight for him. They at once marched back and summoned
the General to surrender or die. The Nana at once attacked the
intrenchments, but was driven back with terrible slaughter. They then
brought up heavy guns and opened a destructive fire upon them. Numbers
of the poor women and children were killed, but our men peppered them
pretty well. They came on repeatedly to try and take the works, but the
rifle, so much despised by them, threw death and destruction in their
ranks. The heat was something fearful, and as our poor women had no
shelter from the scorching rays of the sun, a number of them were
stricken down by it to rise no more. They were the most fortunate of the
whole. Many were cut to pieces with shot and shell. One poor woman sat
nursing her twin boys, but a few months' old, when a round shot from the
enemy took off both her arms, and killed her two dear little ones. The
agony of that poor mother, no pen can describe. At times the air was
full of shells bursting in all directions, but still this noble little
garrison held out, and repeatedly drove their assailants back. Our
people did not forget the bayonet, and all those rebels who were more
daring than the rest got it with a vengeance; they soon began to get
tired of it, and wanted to be off to Delhi.
All who fell into Nana Sahib's hands met with a horrible death. He was
told by more than one lady that their countrymen would avenge all this
useless slaughter, for none ever before were known to kill women and
children. But this brute was beneath all feeling. On the 12th of June,
some 126 fugitives from Futteghur--men, women, and children--were
dragged before this monster, and were ordered to be cruelly murdered in
cold blood. Day after day rolled on, and Gen. Wheeler nobly held out,
although the host around him was being daily augmented, and all were
panting for the blood of the Feringhees. Almost every day poor fugitives
from other stations, not knowing that Cawnpore was in the hands of the
rebels, came rushing into the very jaws of death; the men were at once
shot down, while the poor women were reserved for a fate worse than
death at the hands of a mob, who were now in a state of madness on
account of the noble stand that a mere handful of men were making. Some
of the poor defenceless women begged hard for the lives of their little
ones; but the order had gone forth that every man, woman, and child of
European blood had to die, and every device that could be thought of to
work upon the poor deluded natives to deceive and animate them to the
most fiend-like deeds, was carried out. The following is a copy of one
of the false proclamations that this arch-fiend--Nana Sahib--had posted
up all over the city of Cawnpore:--
A traveller just arrived in Cawnpore from Calcutta, states
that, in the first instance, a Council was held to take into
consideration the means to be adopted to do away with the
religion of Mohammedans and Hindoos by the distribution of
cartridges. The Council came to this resolution: that, as
this matter was one of religion, the services of seven or
eight thousand European soldiers would be necessary, as
50,000 Hindostanis Would have to be destroyed, and then the
whole of the people of Hindostan would become Christians. A
petition, with the substance of this resolution, was sent to
the Queen Victoria, and it was approved. A Council was then
held a second time, in which English merchants took a part,
and it was decided that, in order that no evil should arise
from mutiny, large reinforcements should be sent for. When
the despatch was received and read in England, thousands of
European soldiers were embarked in ships as speedily as
possible, and sent off to Hindostan. The news of their being
dispatched reached Calcutta. The English authorities there
ordered the issue of the cartridges; for the real intention
was to Christianise the army first; and this being effected,
the conversion of the people would speedily follow. Pigs'
and cows' fat was mixed up with the cartridges; this became
known through one of the Bengalese who was employed in the
cartridge-making establishment. Of those through whose means
this was divulged, one was killed and the rest imprisoned.
While in this country these counsels were being adopted, in
England the vakeel of the sultan of Roum sent news to the
sultan that thousands of European soldiers were being sent
for the purpose of making Christians of all the people of
Hindostan. Upon this the sultan issued a firman to the king
of Egypt to this effect:--'You must deceive the Queen
Victoria; for this is not a time for friendship, for my
vakeel writes that thousands of European soldiers have been
dispatched for the purpose of making Christians the army and
people of Hindostan. In this manner, then, this must be
checked. If I should be remiss, then how can I show my face
to God; and one day this may come upon me also; for if the
English make Christians of all in Hindostan, they will then
fix their designs upon my country.' When the firman reached
the king of Egypt, he prepared and arranged his troops,
before the arrival of the English army at Alexandria, for
this is the route to India. The instant the English army
arrived, the king of Egypt opened guns upon them from all
sides, and destroyed and sunk their ships, and not a single
soldier escaped. The English in Calcutta, after the issue of
the order for our cartridges, and when the mutiny had become
great, were in expectation of the arrival of the army from
London; but the great God, in his omnipotence, had
beforehand put an end to this. When the news of the
destruction of the army of London became known, then the
governor-general was much afflicted and grieved, and he
lamented. In the night, murder and robbery; in the morning,
neither head upon the body nor crown upon the head. The blue
sky makes one revolution; neither Nadir nor trace of him
remains.
Done by order of the Peishwa Bahadoor.--_13 Zekaida, 1273_
_Hijra_.
But this treacherous murderer of women and children soon began to find
out his mistake. He had a mere handful of men in front of him, but even
these he could not subdue. He moved about Cawnpore in great pomp, having
now under his command a strong force of disloyal troops that had been
well drilled by us, and often led on to victory.[16] And these poor
deluded creatures believed that our ray (or reign) in India was over,
and all that they had to do was to destroy us, root and branch, and "all
the yellow-faced, narrow-minded people would be sent to hell." But the
heroic defence that Gen. Wheeler was making in an old open intrenchment,
exposed to a burning sun in June, nearly drove this black-hearted coward
mad. This little band of heroes held out until the 26th of June,
repulsing with great slaughter all attempts to defeat them by force of
arms, when, having nothing to eat or drink, Gen. Wheeler accepted the
Nana's terms of peace, and laid down his arms, having received a
faithful promise that not a hair of their heads should be touched, but
that the General and his officers, all his men, the women and children,
should be sent on to Allahabad in boats, and they _were_ all taken down
to the boats, but here a crime was committed that stands unparalleled in
the annals of Indian history. The party arrived at the water's edge, and
embarked in large country boats, each sufficient to carry forty or fifty
people. Then a wholesale butchery commenced. As they put off, masked
guns opened upon them with grape, canister, shot and shell, together
with volley after volley of musketry. Some of the boats took fire, and
many of the women jumped into the water, in order to avoid being burnt
to death; then the Sowars (Cavalry soldiers) waded in and cut the poor
things down! There were fifteen boat loads, consisting mostly of
helpless wounded men, women, and children. About 115 women and children
escaped this massacre, to be tortured for a few days more, and then to
receive treatment worse than death.
THE MASSACRES.
The few men who escaped, including General Wheeler, were dragged ashore
and thrown into prison Some of the women could not, and would not, be
separated from their husbands, exclaiming "If my husband is to die, I
will die with him." That fiend Nana ordered his soldiers to separate
them, but it could not be done except by killing them. The minister or
chaplain requested permission of Nana to pray with them. It was granted;
his bonds were partially loosened, and, as soon as he had ended, the
whole were shot down, those who gave signs of any life remaining being
cut and hacked to pieces with swords. After this the women and children
were taken to Nana Sahib's house, which was afterwards the scene of a
fearful massacre. They were kept here until the defeat of Nana Sahib's
troops by the army under Sir Henry Havelock, and subsequent
investigation revealed the horrible fact that, immediately upon the
result of the action becoming known to Nana Sahib, the whole of the
women and children detained by him, with such other Europeans as could
be found secreted within the city, and several Bengalese residents who
had become obnoxious to the Mohammedans by their connection with the
Europeans, were put to death under circumstances of revolting barbarity.
The courtyard of the building in which the women and children had been
confined appeared to have been the principal scene of slaughter; and,
when entered by our men, it was covered, to the height of two inches,
with blood, and with the tattered remains of female apparel. The walls,
too, were covered with splashes of blood, and on one of the pillars the
victims of the fell deed had written in letters of blood--"Avenge us,
fellow-countrymen." But there was no need for this exhortation. Our men
were already fully aroused, and were determined to exact the utmost
vengeance. Of upwards of 200 innocent and helpless women and children
that had been confined in the Subada Kothee, not one remained alive at
the close of that day!
[Illustration:
THE WELL AT CAWNPORE.
SACRED TO THE PERPETUAL MEMORY OF
A GREAT COMPANY OF CHRISTIAN PEOPLE,
(TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHT), CHIEFLY WOMEN AND CHILDREN, WHO NEAR THIS SPOT
WERE CRUELLY MASSACRED BY THE FOLLOWERS, AND BY ORDER, OF THE REBEL NANA
DHUNDER-PANT, OF BYTHOOR, AND CAST (THE DYING WITH THE DEAD) INTO THE
WELL BELOW, ON THE 15TH JULY, 1857.]
The following description of the scene which met the horrified gaze of
our soldiers, when they entered the city, I take the liberty of
transcribing:--"Accustomed as those stern men had been to scenes of
blood and the devastating ravages of war, the sack of towns, and the
carnage of the battle-field, the spectacle that now met their gaze
unmanned the strongest in the ranks. Before them lay a paved court,
strewn with the wrecks of women's clothing and children's dresses, torn
and cut into ragged and bloody fragments, as if hacked from the persons
of the living wearers! Gory and dishevelled tresses of human hair lay
trampled among the blood that had yet scarcely congealed upon the
pavement! Exclamations of horror subsided into deathlike stillness, as
the men rushed across that slippery court into the building before them.
Traces of brutal violence, of savage and ferocious murder, told in each
apartment the fearful history of the preceding night; but not one living
being was there to disclose the awful secret yet to be revealed, or
indicate the spot in which the survivors (if any there were) of an
evident massacre had taken refuge. At length the fearful truth was
realised; a huge well in the rear of the building had been used by the
murderers as a fitting receptacle in which to hide their martyred
victims from human eyes; and here, yet reeking with blood, stripped of
clothing, dishonoured, mutilated, and massacred, lay the bodies of 208
females and children of all ages--the dying and the dead festering
together in that hideous well! There lay the hapless mother and her
innocent babe; the young wife and the aged matron; girlhood in its
teens, and infancy in its helplessness--all--all had fallen beneath the
dishonoured tulwars of the Mahratta destroyer, and his fierce and
cowardly accomplices in crime. Upon the walls and pillars of the rooms
in which this astounding act of pitiless barbarity had been perpetrated
were the marks of bullets, and of cuts made by sword-strokes--not high
up as if men had fought with men, but low down, and about the corners,
where the poor crouching victims had been cut to pieces! On those walls,
in some places nearly obliterated by the blood that yet clung congealed
in all directions, were discovered short scraps of pencil-writing, and
scratches upon the plaster. In one apartment was a row of women's shoes
and boots, with _bleeding amputated feet_ in them! On the opposite side
of the room, the devilish ingenuity of the mocking fiends was shown in a
row of children's shoes, filled in a similar way!"
One deed of heroism that has been recorded deserves mention here. A
daughter of General Wheeler's was taken off by a sowar and put into his
house along with his wife, near the church. This girl remained till
nightfall; and when he came home drunk and fell asleep, she took a sword
and cut off his head, his mother's head, two children's heads, and his
wife's head, and then walked out into the air; and when she saw other
sowars, she said, 'Go inside and see how nicely I have rubbed the
rissaldar's feet.' They went inside, and found them all dead. She then
jumped into a well and was killed.
THE RE-CAPTURE OF DELHI.
A noble band, in spite of the terrible heat, had marched down from the
hills, where they had been located to screen them from the intenser sun
of the burning plains, and Mr. Pandy soon found out his mistake. This
little force--but a mere handful of men--confronted them twice just
outside the city of Delhi, and gave them such a thrashing as they little
expected, which caused them to bolt into the city to get behind its
ramparts. At this time (May, 1857), the population of Delhi (without the
mutineers, who flocked there in thousands) amounted to 200,000. The
British Empire trembled on that ridge in front of Delhi in the early
part of June, 1857. The supremacy of Britain was held in the hands of
3,000 grim-faced men, who had made up their minds that if India was to
be torn from our grasp, _they_ would not live to tell the tale. All
honour to them! Night after night, day after day, week after week, and
month after month, they fought to uphold the honour of Old England; yea,
I say, they fought, as it were, with their shrouds around them, against
a host of murderers who were thirsting for their blood. It is but right
that this small force of heroes should be enumerated, for they were the
first to grapple with the enemy, so confident of victory and exulting in
their strength. They consisted of the 6th Dragoons or Carabineers, two
squadrons of the 9th Lancers, six companies of the 60th Rifles (the
75th), 1st Bengal Fusiliers (the present 101st Fusiliers), six companies
of the 2nd Bombay Fusiliers (the present 102nd Fusiliers), the Sirmoor
Battalion Ghoorkas--noble little fellows; and about 30 guns of various
batteries of Bengal Artillery. This little band was afterwards augmented
by the 8th, 52nd, 61st, and 104th Fusiliers, and a number of loyal
Native troops from the Punjaub.
THE DELHI FIELD FORCE.
The last man and gun had been sent by Sir John Lawrence from the
Punjaub. Not a sword or bayonet had as yet reached them from England,
although thousands were on the way. It was not the first time, however,
that our highest martial interests had been safely left in the hands of
a Norfolk man. Britons will for ages to come be justly proud of the name
of Wilson--the name of a respected Norfolk family. The whole force that
Sir Archdale Wilson had now under his command amounted to 8748. It was
do or die. If Delhi was not taken, and that at once, the whole of India
would have to be re-conquered. The Punjaub was tottering; and, unless we
could prove to Sikhs, Ghoorkas, Punjaubees, and Afghans, that we were
the descendants of their conquerors, they would turn their arms against
us. Thus it was time for Britons to "strike home." The enemy was gaining
strength and confidence every day, whilst our ranks were being rapidly
thinned by cholera, sunstroke, and the continual attacks of the
Mutineers. But on the morning of the 14th September, 1857, the storming
columns of attack were formed up, and our batteries thundered forth the
summons to the murderers of defenceless women, whilst the sword of
justice was just about to plunge itself into their cowardly hearts.
After a short address from their noble leader the columns dashed
forward--all being left to the bayonet, as it had often been before--and
in our men went, shoulder to shoulder. The enemy was ready, and fought
like demons, for they knew well that they were fighting with halters
around their necks. But the bloodthirsty brutes could not withstand
British pluck. In some cases, when they found that they had to confront
our men, they fought with desperation; in other cases they threw down
their arms, and had the audacity to beg for mercy! A thrust of the
bayonet was the immediate and only answer. But as a rule the enemy
fought with desperation from house to house, and had to be hunted out of
their hiding-places with cold steel. For seven days and nights this
unequal contest lasted--a handful of men against a host,--but on the
20th our proud old flag was once more floating over the whole of
Delhi--this guilty city was again in our hands. But what a scene
presented itself! We had lost some of the best blood of Britain. Poor
Nicholson was no more, and out of our small force we had lost, from the
14th to the 20th, 64 officers and 1680 non-commissioned officers and
men.
The following return will be of interest. It shows the
strength, with the number of the killed and wounded of the
Delhi field force up to the final capture of the city by Sir
Archdale Wilson, Bart., K.C.B. 20th September, 1857:--
=================++=========+=================++=================+======
|| | KILLED. || WOUNDED. |
||Strength,+-----+----+------++-----+----+------+------
|| Sep. 14,| | | || | | |Grand
CORPS. || '57 |Off- |Men.|Total.||Off- |Men.|Total.|Total.
|| | irs.| | || irs.| | |
-----------------++---------+-----+----+------++-----+----+------+------
STAFF. || 36 | 4 | ..| 4 || 9 | ..| 9 | 13
Artillery || | | | || | | |
(including || | | | || | | |
Natives)[17] || 1350 | 5 | 69| 74 || 24 | 245| 269 | 343
Engineers || | | | || | | |
ditto[17] || 722 | 5 | 38| 43 || 20 | 66| 86 | 129
6th Dragoons or || | | | || | | |
Carabineers[17]|| 223 | 1 | 18| 19 || 2 | 49| 51 | 70
9th Lancers[18] || 391 | 1 | 36| 37 || 3 | 94| 97 | 134
4th Irregulars || | | | || | | |
(disarmed)[18] || 178 | .. | ..| .. || .. | 3| 3 | 3
1st Punjaub || | | | || | | |
Cavalry[19] || 147 | .. | 4| 4 || 2 | 27| 29 | 33
2nd " " [19] || 114 | .. | 2| 2 || 1 | 14| 15 | 17
5th " " [19] || 107 | .. | 7| 7 || 1 | 16| 17 | 24
Hodson's || | | | || | | |
Horse[19] || 462 | 1 | 20| 21 || 4 | 87| 91 | 112
8th King's || | | | || | | |
Foot[19] || 322 | 3 | 24| 27 || 7 | 129| 136 | 163
52nd Light || | | | || | | |
Infantry[19] || 502 | 2 | 36| 38 || 5 | 79| 84 | 122
60th Rifles[17] || 590 | 4 | 109| 113 || 10 | 186| 196 | 309
61st Foot[19] || 402 | 2 | 30| 32 || 7 | 120| 127 | 159
75th " [18] || 459 | 5 | 79| 84 || 14 | 194| 208 | 292
1st Bengal || | | | || | | |
Fusiliers || | | | || | | |
(European)[18] || 427 | 3 | 95| 98 || 11 | 210| 221 | 319
2nd Bombay || | | | || | | |
ditto[18] || 470 | 4 | 79| 83 || 6 | 156| 162 | 245
Sirmoor || | | | || | | |
Battalion || | | | || | | |
Ghoorkas[17] || 612 | 1 | 118| 119 || 4 | 237| 241 | 360
Kumaon ditto[18] || 560 | 1 | 90| 91 || 5 | 183| 188 | 279
Guides Cavalry || | | | || | | |
and Infantry[19]|| 585 | 7 | 88| 95 || 16 | 235| 251 | 346
4th Sikh || | | | || | | |
Infantry[19] || 414 | 3 | 48| 51 || 10 | 116| 126 | 177
1st Punjaub || | | | || | | |
ditto[19] || 664 | 6 | 78| 84 || 11 | 189| 200 | 284
2nd " [19] || 650 | 2 | 51| 53 || 6 | 113| 119 | 172
4th " [19] || 641 | 1 | 19| 20 || 4 | 86| 90 | 110
1st. Belooch || | | | || | | |
Batt.[18] || 422 | 1 | 17| 18 || 4 | 75| 79 | 97
Pioneers || | | | || | | |
(unarmed)[18] || 320 | 1 | 36| 37 || 2 | 142| 144 | 181
-----------------++---------+-----+----+------++-----+----+------+------
Grand Total || 11770 | 63 |1191| 1254 || 188 |3051| 3239 | 4493
-----------------++---------+-----+----+------++-----+----+------+------
The head of the rebellion, though not severed, had now received its
death wound. Stern justice had overtaken many of the fiends. Gallows
were erected at every station, and were daily claiming some of those
much-pampered gentlemen, who had boasted that they would destroy us root
and branch. A terrible day of reckoning had dawned; reinforcements in
thousands, by the end of 1857, were landing in almost all the ports of
India; and Mr. Pandy soon found to his cost that the Russians had not
destroyed the whole of the British army. The first Crimean Infantry
regiment that had the honour of grappling with the murderers was one of
the noble regiments that had led the stormers at Sebastopol (the 90th).
But they were soon supported by others. The enemy appeared to be struck
with wonderment as to where all the men were coming from. The people
generally had not thrown in their lot with the Mutineers; but they, too,
were filled with surprise and awe.
DISARMING REGIMENTS AT PESHAWUR.
Retribution was fast setting in, and summary judgment had overtaken them
in a number of places. At Ferozepore and Peshawur an example that struck
terror into their inmost soul was made of some of the would-be
murderers. The 37th and 45th Native Infantry, with the 10th Native
Cavalry, were stationed at the former place, with our 61st regiment, the
latter being very weak. The three regiments fought the 61st for the
magazine, but got a good drubbing. They were confronted, and, with the
assistance of a battery of Artillery, were disarmed. The ringleaders
were then selected, tried by court-martial, and sentenced to death,
which sentence was carried out at once--some of them being hung, others
being blown from the guns; while their countrymen were marched up,
disarmed, and compelled to witness the awful scene.
At Peshawur there was a strong force kept, it being situated just at the
mouth of the Khyber Pass. The lawless hill-tribes are ever ready to
pounce upon and destroy any unfortunate Feringhee who happens to fall in
their way, and it was well to guard against any mischance here. In the
month of May, 1857, things had come to such a pass that the Natives
refused to supply our people stationed in the cantonment with the
necessaries of life (or, in other terms, we were boycotted), and it was
discovered by our authorities that every man, woman, and child, of
English extract, was sentenced to die on the 23rd of May. The Native
force in cantonments consisted of the 21st, 24th, 27th, 51st, and 64th
Bengal N. Infantry, with the 5th Light Cavalry, and six batteries of
Artillery--most of the guns being manned by Natives. Five other
regiments were stationed in forts close by, with swarms of Mohammedan
fanatics who were thirsting for the blood of the hated, but dreaded,
Feringhees. It was known that the chiefs of the hill-tribes were in
communication with our pretended friends, the Mutineers, for they
believed that all was ripe. The other regiments were to have come in to
help to exterminate every Christian in and around the station. In the
ranks were found a few who, in the midst of the general wreck, were
faithful--faithful unto death--and came out as bright and shining
lights, although of the same creed and caste as the bloodthirsty
Mutineers. These few were as true as steel, and loyal to the backbone;
some of them divulged the whole plan, and thus our people were ready for
the rebels. To confront this force we had two regiments of Infantry, and
two batteries of Bengal Horse Artillery, manned by Europeans. The
Infantry consisted of the 87th Royal Irish Fusiliers (or
Faugh-a-Ballaghs), and the 27th (or Inniskillen Fusiliers). Our people
were not going to wait to receive the first blow, but boldly went at
them. The cantonments of Peshawur are very much scattered. An order was
issued that all regiments--both European and Native--were to parade on
their respective private parade grounds at a certain time, for the
General's inspection. The 27th and 87th paraded accordingly, with their
rifles loaded with ball. One regiment took the right and the other the
left, and confronted the regiments of would-be murderers. An order was
then read to them that they had proved themselves traitors, and were no
longer fit to be entrusted with arms. The European officers with the
colours, and the Native Christians that were in their ranks, were then
ordered to fall out and join our people. The Mutineers were next ordered
to pile arms and take off their accoutrements; and, being marched away
from their arms, our people at once advanced and took possession. Thus
their teeth were drawn. They were all disarmed in the same manner, with
the exception of two regiments. The 51st were confronted by the 87th,
and refused to give up their arms. The 87th at once went at them, and
destroyed them to a man--it was all done in about twenty minutes. The
bodies were then cast into a well. The 50th Native Infantry[20] would
not yield, but boldly offered to fight it out. They at once got a volley
into them, and the bayonet did the rest. Some of them escaped for a few
days, having fled into the hills; but a reward of ten rupees (£1) per
head was offered, and we soon had them all. Thus the whole of the Native
force in the valley of Peshawur was disarmed in one day.
AN EXECUTION PARADE.
Sir Sidney Cotton was determined to make an example of some of these
would-be murderers, and for the information of the reader I here attempt
to describe an execution parade. It was truly an imposing scene: all
the troops in garrison, both European and Native, armed and disarmed,
loyal and disloyal, were drawn up on parade, and formed up carefully in
three sides of a square, but so arranged that any attempt on the part of
the disloyal to rescue the doomed ringleaders from the hands of justice
would be met with a terrible slaughter. The guns that were intended to
be used to execute the traitors were drawn up, with their muzzles
pointing towards the blank side of the square; thus:--
[Illustration: Execution Parade]
[Illustration: BLOWING THE MUTINEERS FROM THE GUNS]
The prisoners, under a strong European guard, after marching around the
inside of the square, were formed up in rear of the guns; their crimes
and sentences were read aloud to them, and at the head of each regiment;
the first batch of ten or twelve were then marched up to the guns and
their arms and legs tied--their arms being fastened to the wheels of the
gun, and their backs placed against the muzzle, so that they could not
move--and at a word or signal from an artillery officer the whole were
launched into eternity. A horrid sight it was: a complete shower of
human fragments--heads, arms, legs, and all parts of the body, being
hurled into the air--and when the smoke cleared away there they lay,
Hindoos and Mussulmen all mixed together. Ten or twelve more were then
marched up to the guns, and in about two minutes the same horrible scene
was repeated; and so it continued until all who had been sentenced met
their doom. It makes one's blood run cold to recall the scene, but the
horrible atrocities committed by these fiends left no room for pity in
our hearts. A look of grim satisfaction could be traced on the gunners'
faces after each salvo. But far different was the effect upon the Native
portion of the spectators; their black faces grew ghastly pale at each
salvo--as they gazed breathlessly upon the awful spectacle, they
trembled from head to foot like aspen leaves, while some of them turned
all kinds of unnatural hues. This is the only death that a Native
dreads. If he is hung, or shot by musketry, he can have the funeral
rites required by his religion; but by such a death as this he knows
well that he will be blown to a thousand pieces, and that as Mussulmen
and Hindoos are all mixed together there is no chance of his ever
reaching Paradise. It likewise had a wonderful effect upon the Peshawur
Natives and the Hill tribes that were looking on at a short distance;
they became very civil. All kinds of things were brought and offered for
sale to the Sahib-logs or Gora-logs (gentlemen, lords). Everything that
these cringing cowards could do was done in order to regain our good
opinion; for they suddenly found out that the Feringhee ray (English
reign) was not all over. We had turned the tables upon them. The news
flew across the mountains, and the Afghans flocked in thousands to offer
themselves to fight for us if the Sahib would only go with them. They
ranged themselves by the side of Hodson, Probyn, and Watson, and did
good service throughout the Mutiny, and afterwards in China, and have
proved themselves, under good guidance, first-rate soldiers.
The following will prove what can be done by determined
pluck:--Meean-Meer was occupied, in the early part of May, 1857, by
three strong regiments of Native Infantry, viz., the 16th Grenadiers,
the 26th and 40th, and the 8th Light Cavalry. A part of our 81st was
stationed there; they had two strong detachments out, one of three
companies at the Fort of Lahore, and one or two companies at Umritsa. In
1856 they had suffered heavily from cholera, and could barely muster 300
men under arms. There were two batteries of Artillery in the station,
and General Corbett, backed by Sir John Lawrence, was determined to
disarm the whole Native force, or die in the attempt. It had been
decided that all Europeans in and around the station had to die on the
evening of the 14th May. A ball had been announced to come off on the
night of the 13th, and all the _elite_ among the European residents,
both military and civil, attended. All was kept quiet, but our people
were on the alert. On the morning of the 14th, a grand field-day was to
take place, and every man out of hospital was to attend. In accordance
with orders, all ball ammunition was taken from the men and deposited in
a place of safety, and twenty rounds of blank cartridge issued to all
hands, except the 300 of H.M. 81st, and the two batteries of European
Artillery, who were served with plenty of ball ammunition, and the
Artillery with plenty of grape, and when the Native regiments arrived on
parade they found the 81st formed in line, with Artillery at intervals,
and as many artillerymen as possible, mounted to act as cavalry, formed
up on either flank. The guns were loaded to the muzzles with grape, and
the port fires lit. All was in readiness. There were about 490, all
told, against near 4,000, for the Natives were up to their full
strength. The 16th Grenadiers were the finest set of fellows I ever
looked at, and had the reputation of being the best fighting regiment in
the East India Company; but the determined front that was shown them by
that thin red line was too much for them. The order was read by the
Brigade-Major. They stood panic-stricken as the word "Ready" rang out
from the General. It was too much for them; their black hearts quailed.
In accordance with orders they piled their arms and took off their
accoutrements. The Cavalry next dismounted and took off their swords and
laid them down. They were then ordered to retire, and our thin red line
at once advanced and took possession, threw the arms into carts, and
sent them off to the Fort of Lahore. Our people could then go home to
breakfast, for they had earned it. Not a drop of blood had been shed,
although the crime committed by the Mutineers was of the deepest dye.
The letters they had written to their comrades at Delhi had been opened
at the post-office, and it was quite clear that they had intended to
murder every European, sack the treasury and the fort, and walk off with
the booty. One can fancy the dismay of their friends in the fort, for on
that very day they were to have been relieved by a wing of a Native
regiment from the cantonments; but to their utter dismay a strong party
of Europeans were marched in, the wing that was inside was ordered to
parade at once, and, being confronted, they were challenged to give up
their arms or take the consequences. As the word "Ready" sounded along
the line our people got their arms and at once kicked them out of the
fort and encamped them under the guns, that would have made short work
of them if they had not kept a civil tongue in their heads. Had the
gentlemen at Meerut been confronted in like manner, the Mutiny might
have been avoided, and hundreds of precious lives would have been
spared. But then our officers in the Punjaub knew their work, and were
not going to be caught napping; if they had to die they were going to
die as soldiers--sword in hand--and show the enemy a determined front to
the last. It was this evident resolution that made the Mutineers quail
before them.
GALLANTRY OF THE LINCOLNSHIRE REGIMENT.
Through all the annals of war there is nothing to surpass "Intrepidity
so superb" as that which gave occasion to the 10th Lincolnshire
Regiment, at Benares, for conduct that was exceptionally gallant. At the
breaking out of the Mutiny, the 10th Loyal Boys were stationed with the
37th Native Infantry, a Sikh Regiment, and an Irregular Cavalry
Regiment, with one battery of European Artillery belonging to the
Company's service, commanded by Captain (now General) Olpherts V.C. The
37th broke out into open mutiny and were ordered to give up their arms,
but instead of obeying the order they fired into the 10th, killing and
wounding several men. Our men immediately advanced against them, with
the Sikhs and Cavalry behind them as a support; when all at once our
pretended friends made up their minds to throw in their lot with the
37th, depending upon their numbers. The Sikhs then opened fire upon the
poor old 10th, and the Cavalry got ready to charge them. It is under
such circumstances that the British soldier comes out in his true
colours. Then was seen the boldness and bravery of the sons of Britain,
whom nothing could daunt or dismay. They instantly grappled with the
black-hearted villains. The front rank went at the 37th and routed them;
the rear rank turned about, and with a headlong charge routed the Sikhs
and Cavalry from the field, Captain Olpherts mowing them down with grape
from his guns, which they had not the heart to charge at and take. I am
happy, however, to record that in the midst of all there was a "silver
line" running through the darkness, for some of the Sikhs and Cavalry
boldly came out from the midst of their treacherous comrades and proved
their fidelity by ranging themselves under our banner and fighting
against their own deluded countrymen. Lincolnshire is justly proud of
the 10th, for no regiment was ever before placed in such a desperate
situation, or ever came out of an encounter with such glory. All honour
to the old 10th! The honour of England was in their keeping in this
instance, as much as it was in ours (the 7th Royal Fusiliers), on the
heights of Alma, and both regiments knew well how to hold it. It was
with them death or victory!
FREDERICK GUSTAVUS BURNABY.
(Killed at the Wells of Abou Klea, January 17, 1885.)
Facing the foe in the front of the battle,
Falling where all the fight's fiercest was fought,
Lulled to his slumber by musketry's rattle:
This was the sleeping that he would have sought!
Weep not for him in the hour of his glory!
Weep not for him: he has gone to his rest!
Weep not for him who has crowned his life's story;
Weep for ourselves who have lost of our best!
Heart of a lion and heart of a woman--
Tenderness passing all words to portray;
Bravery, boldness, and strength superhuman--
This is the hero we weep for to-day.
Thoughtful for others, himself never sparing,
Restless when resting, and eager to roam,
All the world over was field for his daring:
Asia and Africa--both were his home.
Deep 'neath the sand of the desert he's lying;
Proudly old England low over him bends;
While this the epitaph sad hearts are sighing--
"Bravest of soldiers and noblest of friends!"
Then weep not for him in the hour of his glory!
Weep not for him: he has gone to his rest!
Weep not for him who has crowned his life's story;
Weep for ourselves who have lost of our best!
CHAPTER VIII.
The Task before Sir Colin Campbell--Disaster at
Arrah--Relief by Major Eyre--Attempted Surprise at
Agra--Short, sharp work--The Mutiny in Oude--Relief of
Lucknow by Sir Colin Campbell--The Fighting--Withdrawal of
the Garrison--Return to Cawnpore--General Windham in
difficulties--Nana Sahib defeated--Lucknow again invested,
and again Relieved--Sikhs and Ghoorkas fighting on our
side--Death of Captain Hodson--Flying Columns Formed--Our
Loss in following the Mutineers--The Proclamation of
Pardon--Disarming the Native Troops--The Mutineers at
Meean-Meer--Jack Ketch and his Victims--The Outbreak on the
Frontier in 1858--The 7th Royal Fusiliers at
Peshawur--Native Thieves--A Forced March--Encounter with the
Enemy--A Truce--Hostilities Resumed--Bravery of the
Ghoorkas--The Fusiliers return to Ferozepore--March to
Saugor (Central India)--Ravages of Cholera--Personal Opinion
as to the Natives of India--The Ways, Manners, and Customs
of the People--Taking the Census--The Steps taken to prevent
another Mutiny.--Letters from India.
By the fall of Delhi, and the capture of the great Mogul King and his
black-hearted murdering villains of sons, the Mutiny received its death
blow. Still there were thousands and tens of thousands of the Mutineers
who had not as yet been confronted by stern justice. The rebels had been
routed from their stronghold, and, if they had not been so divided in
their counsels, would have caused us much more trouble than they did;
all they wanted was some one with power to organize them. It has been
estimated that some 25,000,000 of Natives were thrown into a state of
agitation between Calcutta and Allahabad, so the task before Sir Colin
Campbell was no light one. After the fall of Delhi, movable columns were
formed and sent in pursuit of the enemy, and no end of little battles or
skirmishes were fought. Knowing well that they were fighting with
halters round their necks, so to speak, the Mutineers fought as only
madmen will fight, but to little purpose, for the steady determined rush
of the thin red line was too much for them. Our people made good use of
the rifles the rebels had so much despised, and all that stood in the
way were made short work of; the remainder would bolt, as our cousins
across the Atlantic say, "like a well-greased flash of lightning," and
it was no use poking about in the dark after them.
We had, however, one very disagreeable lesson at Arrah towards the end
of July, 1857. A mixed force of about 450 Europeans and Sikhs was sent
to relieve that place, and, making a forced march in the dark, fell into
an ambuscade, and lost 290 men in a very short time. The news flew fast,
and our loss was magnified fifty-fold, but their boasting lies did not
live long. Major Eyre was soon upon their track, and, routing them,
relieved the little garrison of Sikhs that had held out so nobly. The
enemy now began to lose all heart, and, but for the inroads that
cholera, dysentery, fever, sunstroke, and apoplexy were making in our
ranks, the Mutiny would have been crushed before a single Crimean
regiment got up country; for our men were worked up to a state of
frenzy, and burned to avenge the blood of our outraged countrywomen. Not
a day passed but news of more butcheries kept reaching their ears. The
enemy attempted a surprise at Agra. Our troops had just come in from a
long fatiguing march, when they had the audacity to attack our camp, but
got such a mauling from our mud-crushers and Artillery that they soon
bolted. Our Cavalry got at them; and the 9th Lancers and Horse Artillery
chased them for miles, regardless of the terrible heat, destroying some
600 of them. It had a wonderful effect upon the "budmashes" (bad men,
low characters) of Agra, who kept very quiet; for a Native had not to
open his mouth very wide in 1857-8 before he had a ball put into it, or
was strung up to the nearest tree, and then tried afterwards. Had we
stood upon ceremony, India was gone. As it was, we hovered between life
and death, and consequently sharp remedies were required.
THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.
Thus far the enemy had been settled; and Sir Colin Campbell, who was now
Commander-in-chief of the army in India, was determined not to give them
breathing time. Troops were pushed up country as fast as they landed.
Lucknow had been relieved to a certain extent by that Christian hero,
Havelock, but it was still hemmed-in by overwhelming numbers of the
enemy. The whole of Oude had joined the Mutineers, and the Delhi
gentlemen were making their way thither as fast as their legs could
carry them. But Major-General Sir James Outram had quite sufficient men
with him to make the enemy keep at a respectful distance from him. Sir
Colin was determined to make Lucknow a hot corner, and to relieve it if
possible. Accordingly, a compact little force was collected at Cawnpore
in November, 1857, consisting of the following regiments: 8th, 42nd,
53rd, 75th, 93rd, 2nd and 4th Punjaub Infantry, 9th Lancers, 1st, 2nd,
and 5th Punjaub Cavalry; Naval Brigade under Captain Peel, and
Artillery, Horse and Field Batteries. The total force, including those
already there, amounted to about 18,500--all ranks. The enemy, confident
in their strength, were determined to face us. A strong force was sent
on ahead to the Alum Bagh, with provisions for Sir J. Outram's people.
Our men had to fight their way to the Residency; but the Enfield rifle,
that had been so much despised by the rebels, mowed them down by
wholesale. They then took refuge behind stone walls; between 2,000 and
3,000 of them got into a place called the Secunder-Bagh (King's Garden).
This place was surrounded by high and very thick walls, and a heavy fire
was kept up upon our people from it. The Artillery were brought up, but
the light field guns could make no impression--the shot re-bounded from
the walls as if they had been of india rubber. Sir Colin could not stand
this. The heavy 68-pounders were then brought up, manned by sailors,
under command of that noble Crimean hero, Captain Peel, R.N. They
brought their guns into action as though they had been laying their
frigate, 'The Shannon,' alongside an enemy. The massive walls soon
crumbled beneath their ponderous fire, and a breach was made. Sir Colin
said a few words to the 93rd Highlanders that were to storm it, and then
they were ordered forward. It was a race between the 4th Sikhs and the
Highlanders. The gallant Sikhs got the start, but Scotia proved a little
too nimble for them. The first man who entered the breach was the
Sergeant-Major of the 93rd. This brave fellow bounded through like a
deer, and met a soldier's death before he had touched the ground; but
hundreds were close behind him. The fighting inside was desperate, but
the Mutineers were cringing cowards. Some of them threw down their
weapons, and on bended knees, with hands upraised in supplication,
begged for mercy; but the only answer they got was "Cawnpore" hissed m
their faces, followed by about twelve or fifteen inches of cold steel!
Retribution had overtaken them, and death held fearful sway in that
beautiful garden; for the slain lay in heaps in terrible confusion,
mixed with roses and other sweet-smelling flowers as if in derision.
Upwards of 2,000 of the rebels were counted next morning, nearly all of
whom had died by the bayonet. We, too, had suffered heavily, for some
of the Mutineers fought like madmen, when they found there was no back
door open.
* * * * *
The enemy defended the "Shah-Nujeef" (a large tomb) with desperation.
But again the 93rd Highlanders and Sikhs were let loose, and with a wild
shout it was carried by the queen of weapons. There again the enemy lay
in ghastly piles in and around that charnel-house. They made another
determined stand at a place called the Mess House--a large Native
building in the shape of a castle, with a deep ditch around it. After
bombarding it for several hours, our people went at it, the Highlanders
again leading, side by side with the 53rd and our friends the Sikhs, who
would not be second to any.
* * * * *
The Residency was now close at hand; our men having cut their way
through a host to relieve their unfortunate countrymen and countrywomen.
The commanders met and arranged their plans; and, under a terrible fire
of shot, shell, and rockets, which Sir Colin opened upon the enemy to
attract their attention in an opposite direction, withdrew the noble
little garrison that had fought so well, night and day, for near five
long months. Sir Colin laid his plans so well, and they were carried out
so accurately, that not a hair of one of the unfortunate women or
children was touched. They were, so to speak, taken from the jaws of the
tiger without his knowing it, and conveyed to a place of safety. In
delivering the imprisoned half-starved garrison, we had lost 45 officers
and near 500 men. Our men, as I have often said, are at all times ready
to enter upon the most hazardous enterprizes to uphold the honour of our
flag. In this case ladies' and children's lives were in jeopardy; and
what won't a brave man do or dare to rescue those who are dear to him?
Sir Colin was determined to leave Lucknow for a time, and Sir James
Outram was selected to remain behind in a strong position with 3,500
troops, and plenty of food for several months.
GENERAL WINDHAM OVERMATCHED.
We now shaped our way back to Cawnpore; but before our force could reach
it, news came that the hero of the Redan, General Windham, was more than
overmatched by strong bodies of the enemy. He had with him a little over
2,000 upon whom he could rely; whilst a force of upwards of 25,000 of
the Gwalior contingent, and others who had thrown in their lot with the
rebels, came down upon him. It is not for me to criticize this brave
soldier's actions or generalship. He had on former fields proved his
metal, and was acknowledged to be the bravest of the brave; for no man
could have led a storming party with greater coolness or more dash, than
General Windham led the stormers at the Great Redan, on the 8th
September, 1855. The enemy at Cawnpore gained a partial victory; but the
"hero of a hundred fights"--Sir Colin Campbell--was close at hand, with
men who never stop to count numbers. After placing the women and
children in safety, Sir Colin's eagle eye soon detected the enemy's weak
point and at them he went. The fiend Nana Sahib commanded the enemy,
who, although flushed with victory, were driven in headlong confusion
from the field. They were completely routed, leaving all their guns
(between thirty and forty) in our hands. For months (December, 1857,
January, February, and part of March, 1858), small columns, from 2,500
to 6,000 strong, were hunting the enemy down all over Bengal. Grim
justice was staring the rebels in the face. Our people did not trouble
to seek for a suitable gallows, so long as there was a tree close by. To
have shown the rebels any kindness would have been looked upon as
weakness, but when once it was found that we had crushed the movement,
then we could, and did, show mercy to thousands of these poor deluded
wretches.
LUCKNOW AGAIN INVESTED
Meanwhile the rebels had been collecting in great numbers in and around
Lucknow, and Sir James Outram had all he could do to hold his own
against the repeated attacks of their overwhelming hordes. Lucknow
contained at this time (March, 1858), a vast host in arms against us.
Its population exceeded 300,000, thousands of whom were in arms, and
determined to fight it out to the bitter end. The Insurgents had
collected in numbers--computed at from 35,000 to 60,000 men; and some
50,000 or 60,000 of the Oude people had joined them; while every corner
had been extensively fortified, there being upwards of 100 guns in
position, beside field guns. Thus Sir Colin Campbell had no light task
before him. But this gallant old hero knew well how to play his cards.
After rolling up the enemy in all parts of the country with movable
columns, he suddenly collected at Cawnpore and its vicinity some of the
best regiments in our service--men who had been well proved on many a
field--and with these forces he was determined to rout the boasting
enemy out of their stronghold. The following regiments composed his
army:--The 2nd Dragoon Guards or Bays; 7th Hussars, 9th Lancers,
Hodson's Horse, Sikh Cavalry, some fifty guns, and the 8th, 10th, 20th,
23rd, 34th, 38th, 42nd, 53rd, 75th, 79th, 82nd, 84th, 93rd, 97th, 101st,
and 102nd regiments, two battalions of the Rifle Brigade, a good strong
brigade of the Blue Jackets, and some 25,000 Natives, including
Ghoorkas--men who were loyal to the backbone, and had often vied with
our people for the post of honour. The forces in front of Sir Colin,
under Sir James Outram at the Alum-Bagh, consisted of the 5th Fusiliers,
64th, 78th, 90th, and a number of loyal Natives, and all helped to
co-operate in the final attack. The enemy fought with desperation from
behind their stone walls; but Jack's 68-pounders soon brought the
bricks, stones, and mortar, about their ears, and they were then pitched
or ejected out of the forts and batteries with the queen of weapons;
whilst our nimble little friends, the Ghoorkas, did not forget to use
their favourite deadly weapon--the knife.
For days the rebels clung with the tenacity of despair to every post
until it was made completely untenable. Meanwhile our Cavalry were not
idle, for as fast as the Mutineers came out of their hiding places they
fell beneath swords wielded by English arms, or succumbed to the deadly
thrusts of our troopers' spears or lances. But before they entirely
evacuated the city, the principal places where they had taken refuge had
to be stormed. In some large buildings which had been converted into
forts, the enemy had made up their minds to die, and here they fought as
only fanatics or madmen will fight or die. Jung Bahador's Ghoorkas
taught the Mutineers, the murderers of defenceless women and children,
some very salutary lessons, which, however, they never lived to talk
about; and the Sikhs vied with them in destroying all that came in their
way. There were no prisoners or wounded; this was a war of retribution,
and all who opposed us--whether Mutineers or those who sided with
them--met a traitor's death.
One of the noblest soldiers that ever fought under our flag (Captain
Hodson) fell in the taking of the Kaiser Bagh. This officer was he who
captured the King of Delhi and his sons. He had been in at least fifty
different fights--all through the Punjaub campaign--and the Sutlej
campaign against the Sikhs At the breaking out of the Mutiny, he
obtained permission from the Government to raise a strong regiment of
Afghans, with whom he marched down to Delhi, and there did good service,
for those men would go anywhere with their beloved chief, and when he
fell they cried like children who had lost a fond father.
The rebels were at last dislodged from their strongholds, but a small
body of them still held the Moosa Bagh, about four miles from Lucknow,
whence Sir Colin was determined to oust or destroy them. Accordingly two
strong Infantry brigades, with about 1500 Cavalry, and some 30 guns went
at them, and they were dislodged in masterly style. It was at this place
that a strong body of the enemy, dressed in clean white robes and armed
with shields and sharp swords, sallied forth, headed by their Doroger,
(priest or head man), an enormous fellow. They had all received a
blessing, and were prepared to die. They had plenty of bhang (country
liquor) poured down their throats to give them courage, and they fought
with an utter contempt of death, cutting down our gunners at the guns.
The 7th Hussars were at once brought up and sent at them, but a number
were unhorsed and killed. The Highlanders then went at them, and
destroyed them to a man. The enemy now broke up and dispersed. Some
20,000 of them made their way to Fyzabad, and other places.
FORMATION OF FLYING COLUMNS.
Columns were next formed under various officers, namely Hope Grant,
Brigadiers Russell, Horsford, Kelley, Harcourt, Rawcroft, and others.
But to go into details of the different fights that took place
throughout Central India, with these columns and those under Sir R.
Napier (now Lord Napier), Sir H. Rose (now Lord Strathearn), Colonel
Whitelock, and others, would require a larger book than I intend to
write. Our loss in following up the enemy from sunstrokes and apoplexy
was fearful, although as much marching was done at night as possible.
There was the enemy, and our commanders would admit of no excuse or
delay; they must be got at, and the command was continually--"Forward!
Men, the honour of our flag is at stake." Our guns would sometimes stick
so fast in mud, that they could not be extricated by horses. At times as
many as twenty horses would be attached to one gun, and the longer it
remained the deeper it sank. Then that massive animal, the elephant,
would be brought into requisition, while the horses all stood on one
side. One of these noble creatures of the forest would put his head and
trunk to the gun, whilst another would pull at the traces, and walk off
with it without any apparent exertion. We must have left a number of our
heavy guns behind had it not been for these sagacious animals.
THE END OF THE REBELLION.
The enemy's heart for fighting had been broken, or, in other words, the
conceit about fighting had been all thrashed out of them by the end of
1858; and in marching after them we lost far more men from the effects
of the sun than from actual conflict. They could run well, but fighting
was out of the question, and consequently we had to run them down. They
were intercepted at all points, and in trying to escape one column, they
were almost sure to fall in with another. As soon as the proclamation of
pardon was issued to all who had not been guilty of murdering
defenceless women and children, men came in by hundreds, yea, thousands,
and laid down their arms at our feet, supplicating for mercy, which was
not refused. One rupee (or two shillings) was given to each, with
passes to their respective homes, together with the caution that if they
were found in arms against us any more they should die. Our faithful
adherence to the proclamation had a wonderful effect upon the native
mind. It was painful to behold some of these poor deluded wretches; they
could not understand how it was we could forgive them. They said that
when we were weak in numbers we destroyed all that came in our way; but
now, when the whole of Bengal was bristling with European bayonets, the
Sahibs were merciful. Many poor fellows were really to be pitied; for
several of the regiments had not hurt one of their officers, but had
protected them and their wives and children from danger. Yet they had
gone over to the enemy--they said it was fate. They now found out that
it was the will of a strong Government whom they had defied, that they
should lose their pensions, which hundreds had been entitled to; for
plenty of them had seen some of the roughest fighting against the Sikhs
that ever India had witnessed. Master Pandy had played a doubtful game
for heavy stakes, and had lost all.
A great proportion of the troops, both horse and foot, that went out to
India in 1857-8, never fired a shot, though they were on the spot had
their services been required. A large force had been sent on to the
Punjaub, to strike its warlike inhabitants with awe. Nothing was left to
chance. The Native troops were confronted at all points, and the poor
deluded Sepoys could not make out where all the men were coming from.
They had been given to understand, as I have already stated, that the
whole of the British army had been destroyed in front of Sebastopol, and
when we landed, with so many medals on our breasts, they began to
inquire where we had been fighting. Being informed that we had just
fought the Russians, they looked with amazement, for their priests had
told them that we were all killed. All the Native troops in Bengal, and
in a part of the Bombay and Madras presidencies, were disarmed; and
there was not much ceremony about it. We marched up to them; an order
was read; the European officers and Natives were then ordered to fall
out; and the remainder commanded to pile arms and to take off their
accoutrements. Thus their teeth were drawn to prevent mischief, and they
were then made to do duty, with a ramrod only as a weapon.
WITH THE ROYAL FUSILIERS IN THE PUNJAUB AND ELSEWHERE.
The 7th Royal Fusiliers soon marched up country (leaving all their women
and children behind), right up into the Punjaub, and pleased enough the
81st at Meean-Meer were to see us. From Mooltan we pushed on rapidly in
bullock carts, covering 50 miles a day. A strong force of the enemy were
at Meean-Meer (four regiments of Infantry and one of Cavalry), and we
were directed to take charge of them. A gallows was erected just in
front of our lines and hardly a day passed but it claimed its
victims--sometimes four or five, morning and evening. The murderers, or
would-be murderers, were quickly launched into eternity; they had not a
nine feet drop, and the hangman was never complained of for being
clumsy. Some of them abused us as long as they could speak. When Mr.
Jack Ketch had all ready, he would jump off a long form, about two feet
high, and knock down the odd leg (for it was a three legged one). Their
comrades were compelled to witness the execution, while a company of our
troops were under arms to see that the law was carried out.
One night during the summer of 1858, our people were performing in the
play house or theatre, when in rushed an officer, covered with dust, and
placed a despatch in the hands of General Windham who was in command.
The General opened and read it; there was a little whispering going on
between the General and our then Colonel Alsworth. The performance was
permitted to go on until the Act was over, when the Adjutant (Mr.
Malon), called out in a loud voice: "All men of the right wing go home
and prepare for active or field service." The shout that followed shook
the house. The old Fusiliers were ready to face any number of men
whether black or white. The Russians had quailed before them, and woe be
to the Mutineers who should attempt to oppose them. They were off long
before daylight with the band in front playing "For England's Home and
Glory," and had a long hot march before them. The wing was about 800
strong, for we stood near 1,600 bayonets at the time. A wing of the 7th
Dragoon Guards, a battery of Horse Artillery, and a regiment of Ghoorkas
accompanied us. A strong force of Natives had shown disaffection at a
place called Dera Ishmal Khan; but the force that General Windham sent
struck terror into them, and they begged for mercy. All the ringleaders
were tried, and shot or hanged; the remainder were at once dismissed, so
that there was no further bloodshed. This column lost a number of men on
the march from heat, from apoplexy and cholera, but still they pressed
on.
The Mutineers were in camp opposite our barracks. Heavy guns loaded with
grape almost up to the muzzle were pointed at them. All was ready at a
moment's notice; for some of our men, trained as gunners, were always
at, or close to the guns, and any attempt at an outbreak could be
checked at once. Thus, the reader will observe, one wing of the
Fusiliers had to keep five regiments in subjection. The other wing of
the 7th Dragoons, and also two batteries of Artillery, were about a mile
from us. One night, about tattoo, an alarm was given. Shots were fired
into the enemy's camp, and we all stood to arms and faced them. The
Cavalry and Artillery came to our assistance at a break-neck pace; but
after remaining under arms for some time, it turned out that some of our
recruits acting as sentries, had noticed some of the Mutineers moving
about their camp, and had at once fired at and wounded some of them.
They were not allowed out of their tents after tattoo, and it had just
sounded. It was well that the heavy guns did not go off, as they would
have rushed out of their camp in order to escape, and would have been
all cut or shot down. At the end of 1858 we were still at Meean-Meer. It
is one of the hottest and most unhealthy places in India, and we there
lost a number of non-commissioned officers and men from apoplexy and
fever. In the beginning of 1859 we marched up country on to Jhelum and
Rawul Pindee. The neck of the Mutiny was now broken, and the country
began to settle down. Rawul Pindee is one of the loveliest places that I
had as yet seen; it is just at the foot of the snow-capped Himalayas,
which rise majestically in the distance. We remained there for one
summer, and were then sent off to Peshawur, then the extreme frontier
station. Here we had a rough lot to deal with, for we found ourselves in
the midst of thieves and murderers. These gents go about at night, armed
with daggers, almost in a state of nudity, with their bodies well
greased from head to foot, so that if anyone got hold of them they would
slip out of his grasp like an eel, and he might look out for the dagger,
for he was bound to have it. Our people, therefore, often fired first,
and then challenged "Who comes there?" I must say these fellows proved
themselves the most expert thieves I have ever met, for nothing was too
hot or too heavy for them. If they could creep up to a sentinel, it was
all over with him; he would be stabbed to the heart, and then the
assassin would walk off with his rifle and accoutrements. At other times
they would creep or crawl into the barracks, and walk off with rifles,
accoutrements, men's clothing, or anything that they could lay their
hands upon, such as the company's copper-cooking utensils, &c., and if
anyone stood in the way, he was at once murdered. Some hundreds of
medals were, in 1860, stolen off the coats of the 93rd Highlanders,
whilst they were on parade in undress uniform. The only way to catch
these gents was to shoot them; and our people, the Highlanders, and
Rifles, pretty well thinned them.
Peshawur is one of the prettiest stations we have on the plains, but it
is also one of the most deadly; it is excessively hot in summer, and
very cold in winter. It is almost surrounded with snow-capped hills; and
one can there see snow all the year round, yet, in the summer, the heat
is enough to roast one. Regiments were sometimes brought so low with
continual fever that companies 120 strong could not furnish three men
for duty--all being down with the fever and ague. We were right glad to
get out of it.
In 1862 we marched to Ferozepore, on the banks of the Sutlej. We found
this place very hot, and often experienced what it is noted
for--"sand-storms." Reader, if ever you witness a good sand-storm, you
will be ready to think it's all up with you. It comes rolling along like
huge mountains, the wind blowing a perfect hurricane, until you are
completely enveloped; a few drops of rain will often follow, succeeded
by a perfect calm.
THE AFGHAN CAMPAIGN OF 1863.
I am now coming to the Umballah campaign. We (the 7th) had been selected
by Sir H. Rose, then Commander-in-chief, as one of the smartest
regiments in India; and, as a feather in our cap, had been directed to
escort the Governor-General, Lord Elgin, in his tour through India. Two
companies were sent off to escort his Lordship to the plains, and the
remaining eight companies (except sick, lame, and lazy, that were left
behind at Ferozepore) marched on to Meean-Meer. But the news soon
arrived that our two companies had buried his Lordship. We then expected
to march back, but to our surprise we were ordered into the field, and
to move by forced marches. When our men heard the news from the lips of
our much-respected Colonel R. Y. Shipley (now Lieutenant-General R. Y.
Shipley, C.B.), the shout that they gave startled our Native servants.
As soon as the cheering had subsided, our Colonel's voice could be
distinctly heard: "Fusiliers, I want you to use your legs. I will lead
you against black or white, I care not who." And during that long march
of between 400 and 500 miles, we found we had to use our legs. For the
information of my non-military readers, I will just describe camp life
in India, and the marching from camp to camp. About retreat, or sun
down, all camels that are intended to carry men's kits, tents, &c., are
brought and placed against the tents. The non-commissioned officer
satisfies himself that all is right, and that each camel is provided
with a good rope. If elephants are to be used, the head Mahout is told
how many to send to each company at the rouse sounding. Tattoo is
generally pretty early--say about seven o'clock p.m. After that, all is
quiet throughout the camp--nothing to be heard but the sentinel's
measured tread, and the gurgling sound from the queen of the desert
(camel). Even the drivers are quiet, and silence reigns until _reveillé_
sounds between one and three a.m., according to the length of the march.
All hands at once jump up, strike a light, dress as quick as possible,
pack up and clear the tent, down with the sides or Kornorths, and set to
to load the camels; but not a tent comes down until the bugle sounds,
"Strike tents," then one short blast, and down they all come, as if they
were all pulled with one rope; they are at once rolled up, and loaded
on the camels or elephants. The quarter-bugle sounds, the men on with
their accoutrements in the dark, and at once move to the appointed place
to fall in. Coffee is provided for them, if they require it, at the rate
of about one halfpenny per half pint; the companies are inspected by
their respective captains, reports are collected, then away they go,
with the band in front playing some lively air, and swinging along at
the rate of four miles an hour. The dust is enough to choke one; often
one cannot see the man in front, but all keep jogging along, chaffing
and joking. Men who have got "singing faces" are often in requisition.
Thus all goes on as merry as a cuckoo until eight miles are covered,
when the halt sounds, companies pile arms, and a cup of good coffee is
issued to each man with a biscuit, if he requires it, provided by Native
cooks who are sent on over night. In half-an-hour the coffee is drank,
biscuits are put out of sight, and the pipe is brought to the front; and
a nice lot of beauties the men look, covered with dust and sweat. Fall
in again, and off for, perhaps, another eight or nine miles; the baggage
and tents keep well up with us, for the camels can swing along at a good
pace, although they appear to hang over the ground. The new camp ground
is duly reached, all marked out by the Quartermaster and his
establishment. One would be astonished to see how quickly a canvas city
springs into existence; the tents are all up in an incredibly short
space of time. The poor Bheasty (water-carrier) has enough of it. In
about an hour the men have had a good wash and brush down, when in come
the cooks with breakfast--either beef steaks or mutton chops. Breakfast
over, some of the men who are tired lie down for a little rest. Some get
a book, while others play all sorts of games in the tents. Those who do
not feel tired get permission to go off shooting. Game of all kinds is
very plentiful in most parts of the country, and it does not take long
to find a good hare or a brace of pheasants, and there are no game laws
in India. When they come back what they have shot is handed over to the
cooks. In forced marching not many go out shooting, for the men are
pretty well tired out. From twenty-five to thirty miles per diem, with
rifle and accoutrements to carry, in a climate like India, is no joke.
But it has been proved that our men can beat the Natives hollow, and
march quite away from them. A camel is soon knocked up if you over-work
him; and if you attempt to over-task an elephant, he is liable to turn
crusty. Moreover, he wants plenty of room, and he'll quietly shake his
load off, and put all hands at defiance.
As acting Sergeant-Major, I led the Fusiliers through the whole of this
march, both to and from the field. On arrival at Nowshera, we soon found
that something serious was going on not very far distant, for wounded
men from the front were being sent in. We did not stay here long, but
left behind all we did not absolutely require, and off we went at a
rapid pace. Bidding farewell to all roads and bridges, we had now
nothing but a wild tract to traverse, and as we came up to the nullahs
or water-courses, in we had to go, land on the other side the best way
we could, and on again until we came to another. Sometimes we would have
six or seven of these nice places to cross, some being about a foot
deep, others nearly up to our necks. As we approached the foot of the
mountains, we could distinctly hear the Artillery in front at it, and in
the stillness of the night the roll of musketry. Other regiments, both
European and Native, kept arriving, and we had our old friends, the 93rd
Sutherland Highlanders, with us. After resting for a day or two, off we
went again, with nothing but what we had on our backs. For the first
five or six miles we had to push through thick low shrubbery; then we
commenced ascending the front of a very high hill, up which we could
only go in single file, for it was nothing but a goats' path. As we
topped the first hill, we had a splendid view. The red coats were
winding up the steeps like a long red serpent, the head of the column
having rested for a time in order to allow the rear to come up. We could
now plainly hear the rattle of musketry; and some of our young hands,
who had never seen a shot fired, began to ask all sorts of questions.
Still on and on, up and up, we kept going. Some now began to fall out to
rest a little, for it is very trying with a load such as we had to
carry, to be continually climbing. Each man had to carry 100 rounds of
ammunition, his overcoat, a blanket, shirt, socks, boots, towel,
brushes, two days' rations, and a number of little nick-nacks. I carried
a good revolver and plenty of ammunition, for it now began to get a
little exciting. About 3 p.m. we could distinctly hear the shrill
whistle of the musket balls passing over our heads, which told us that
the enemy were not far distant. We had a nice little force with us as a
reinforcement--some seven or eight Native regiments, and two batteries
of mountain guns. We (the 7th) were about 1,100 strong, and the 93rd
about 1,200. On arrival we were sent straight to the post of honour. We
had no tents, so we made the best of it for the night. The enemy
appeared on our right, left, and front, and, but for the reinforcements,
our small force would soon have been cut off from all communications.
Shots were whistling and hissing about us all night. Next morning, we
and the 93rd, and two or three regiments of Sikhs, with two of Ghoorkas,
let the enemy know that we required a little more breathing room; so in
about an hour we cleared them out of their hiding-places on our left
flank and front; but we soon found out that they were not to be
despised, for they would creep up under the shrubbery, and from rock to
rock, and pepper us until they were shot down. We had a number of strong
picquets out, and hardly a night passed but the enemy would attack some
of them, coming right up to the muzzles of our men's rifles and fighting
with desperation; and, but for the superior weapons that our men had,
numbers must have prevailed at times. It was with difficulty that we
could get some of our Native regiments to face them. One regiment (the
27th Native Infantry) bolted, but we managed to bring them up; they had
either to face us or the enemy, and they chose the enemy, and were
nearly cut to pieces. Most of the European officers were cut down, for
it was close fighting. We found a number of Mutineers mixed up with the
Afghans. They knew well that they had no mercy to expect from us, and
side by side with the dauntless Afghans they fought with such
determination that some of our crack Sikh regiments trembled before
them. But, no position that they could occupy did they hold, when once
our men and those noble little fellows the Ghoorkas went at them. The
Ghoorkas repeatedly proved during that short campaign, as they had often
done before, that they were second to none. The honour of Old England
had been entrusted to them, and they were never once beaten; but could
hold their own by the side of the bravest sons of Britain. And if ever
the much-vaunted Imperial Guards of Russia should come across their
path, they will remember them, as much as they have had cause to
remember us, for in a close fight, with their peculiarly shaped Native
Knives, they are very devils.
As regards the strength of the enemy, they were very numerous; while
fresh tribes kept joining them, and it really appeared as if the more we
destroyed the stronger they seemed to get. But during the early part of
December they were taught some very awkward lessons, and, with all the
craft of Asiatics, their chiefs pretended that they wanted to treat for
peace. Negociations were carried on for some days, their chiefs coming
daily into our camp, blind-folded, until they entered the
commissioners' marquee, when it was found out that they were playing a
treacherous game. All they wanted was to gain time, for some thousands
of other tribes to join them, in order to exterminate the white-livered
Feringhees and the dreaded Ghoorkas. But our people had had more than
one hundred years' experience with such crafty gentlemen, and were not
to be caught with chaff. So the terms that our Government demanded were
laid before them, and twenty-four hours given them to decide. They
decided to renew the fighting; and as soon as it suited the time and
plans of General Sir T. Garvick and Sir R. Chamberlain, they got quite
enough of what they had asked for, but we did not wait for the hordes of
reinforcements that were coming from all parts of Afghanistan. We had
three days continuous fighting; and it was of such a nature that it
considerably damped their ardour for the fray, and thrashed all the wild
fanaticism out of them. They threw up the sponge when they found that
they could not make any impression upon us, throwing away their arms and
begging for mercy. The "cease fire" sounded all along our line, and they
at once found out that we were not half so bad as we had been painted by
their chiefs and priests, for they immediately received mercy at our
hands, which they could not understand.
We were now right in the Swat Valley, surrounded by the loveliest
scenery that the eye could wish to gaze upon; and a number of
fine-looking men came into our bivouac with all kinds of presents, which
they placed at our feet. The fields for miles around us were covered
with their dead or wounded comrades. Poor fellows, they seemed overcome
with joy, to think and to see for themselves, that we would not hurt
their wounded, but assist them in every way we could. I may here state
that the Swattees are a noble set of people, and we now have a great
number of them in our Irregular Cavalry regiments; and the Egyptians
have lately seen that they are not to be despised. The campaign ended on
the 21st of December, as far as the fighting was concerned, and on the
24th we commenced our march towards the plains of India, right glad to
get down from those cold mountains, for snow was all around us. On
debouching into the plains, at a place called Pumuailah, at the foot of
the mountains, we found our camp already pitched for us, where we could
lay our heads down and rest, free from the shrill music of musket balls
whizzing past us, or the frantic shrieks of some thousands of native
warriors coming upon us in the dark.
One to ten
Lean raw-boned rascals, who could e'er suppose
They had such courage and audacity.
_Shakespeare._
DESCRIPTION OF AFGHAN WARFARE.
As I have said, the Afghans really seemed to despise death, so long as
they could reach us. They have been known to lay hold of the rifle, with
the bayonet right through them, and kill their opponent, so that both
fell together. On one occasion an entire company of the 101st Fusiliers
was cut to pieces, and died to a man; but it was found that a number of
these noble fellows had first driven their bayonets through their Afghan
opponents and both lay locked in death. On another occasion two
companies of the Ghoorkas were sent at (as far as we could see) about
150 fanatic Afghans. These brave little fellows threw in one volley,
then dashed at the enemy with their favourite weapon; but instead of
150, some 800 or 900 Afghans rushed out of their hiding-places, and, in
less time than it takes me to write it, exterminated the two companies,
but not before they had laid low more than double their number of
Afghans. No mercy was shown by these infuriated Hill tribes. The
remainder of the Ghoorkas regiments obtained permission to go and avenge
their comrades; and at them they went, this time backed up by the 101st
Fusiliers, who assisted them by throwing in one volley, and that deadly
weapon, the knife, did the rest. In marching over the field, about an
hour afterwards, the sights that met one's eyes in all directions were
sickening. There lay the ghastly fruits of "war to the knife." No
wounded; but men of both nations lying clasped in each other's arms,
sleeping the sleep of death.
I would suggest that those who are so anxious for war should lead the
way at an affair such as I have just described; they would then think
well before they set men at each other in deadly conflict; or, in other
words, let those that make the quarrels march in the fore front of the
battle.
* * * * *
But we taught the lawless Afghans how to respect our flag. This had been
a short, but a sharp lesson to them, for unprovoked wholesale murder. I
must here explain that these neighbours of ours had come down from their
hills to the plains, and destroyed whole villages, walking off with the
cattle, and all that they could lay their hands upon. Not a man, woman,
or child, did they leave alive to tell the tale. The whole country for
miles was laid in utter ruin, for no other crime than that the people
were British subjects. So, as the reader will admit, we were almost
compelled to draw the sword in this instance; for parleying with such
lawless gentlemen would have been looked upon as weakness, and would
have had no more effect upon them than water upon a duck's back. But, as
usual, the force that was at first sent against the enemy was far too
small. It consisted of two regiments of European Infantry (the 71st
Highlanders and 101st Fusiliers), seven or eight Native Infantry
regiments, and one of Cavalry, with three batteries of Artillery. It was
here proved that it is bad policy to despise your enemies, for this
little force could barely hold their own. It could hardly be said that
they were masters of the ground they slept upon. They had, as it were,
to "hold on by the skin of their teeth," in the midst of a host, until
reinforcements reached them. Hence our hurried march to their
assistance. In this instance again we proved that the bayonet is the
queen of weapons, for not all the countless hordes of fanatics could
withstand a determined rush of some 10,000 men, backed up by others; for
we had ultimately a force of some 25,000 men, with whom we struck terror
into at least 150,000 of these sons of the Himalayas.
THE END OF THE WAR.
Well, it was now all over; they had paid the penalty for unprovoked
murder, and were submissive at our feet. Although the sword--the
victorious British sword--had been uplifted, our people remembered
mercy, and that had more effect upon these hardy mountaineers than the
mere sight of piles of their dead comrades all around them had produced.
We remained for a few days, and then marched on to our frontiers. The
Natives all around suddenly became wonderfully civil, and all kinds of
supplies were brought into our camp; for they had found out that the
Sahib Logs were indeed lords and masters, and that civility was cheaper
than rope. This short but sharp lesson had such an effect upon them,
that one regiment of old women could have kept them in check for years
afterwards. We remained for two months on the frontiers, until all was
quiet, then broke up camp, and marched to our respective stations. The
Fusiliers remained at Ferozepore until the end of 1866, when we marched
on to Saugor (central India). It looked a beautiful place, but, alas!
many a fine fellow who marched into that lovely vale, in all the pride
of manhood, never marched out of it again.
REFLECTIONS.
All went on well until the summer of 1869, when we were attacked by
cholera, and our poor fellows died like rotten sheep. In fourteen days
we lost 149 men, 11 women, and 27 children. I here lost six dear little
ones, and my wife was pronounced dead by one of the doctors; but, thank
God, even doctors make wonderful mistakes sometimes. It proved so in her
case, for she is with me yet, and has made me more than one "nice little
present" since. During that trying ordeal we proved the faithfulness of
the natives, for, although death was raging amongst us, they stood by us
manfully; and a number of them clung so close to our poor fellows, in
rubbing them, that they caught the terrible malady, and died rather than
forsake their masters. I say now, after nineteen years in the midst of
the burning plains of India, treat the native with kindness, be firm
with him, but let him see that you are determined to give him justice,
and I'll be bound that you will find him a good, kind, loving, obedient
creature, and a loyal subject. Thousands, yea tens of thousands, of the
natives can speak our language as well as we can, and see plainly that
they have justice, that the rich cannot oppress the poor, and that under
our flag they are safe from all oppression. The highest positions are
attainable by all, if they will only qualify themselves for them. Our
equal laws have bound them to us in love, and if our Government required
500,000 more men we could have them in less than a month. They will tell
you plainly if you will lead they will follow. There are no better
troops in the world than the Ghoorkas, Sikhs, and Beloochees; all they
require is leaders. But give me old England, with a crust, in preference
to India, with all its luxuries, although I had my health remarkably
well all the time I was there. I had, however, a very strong objection
to the hot winds, the sand-storms, the flying bugs (and those that could
not fly), the mosquitoes, and to a slow bake, for in summer the
thermometer would often show 125° Fah., and the air would be so sultry
that one could hardly breathe without being fanned. But I must be
honest. A number of our men wreck their constitutions with heavy
drinking and then complain of the climate, which certainly is very
trying. After all, give me "home, sweet home."
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE PEOPLE.
Before I leave the subject I feel I ought to say something about the
manners and customs of the people of India. A high-caste Brahmin, be he
rich or poor, is venerated by all other castes of Hindoos. The country
was ruled by them until we took possession of it; and, although our
proud old flag now waves from Calcutta to Afghanistan, we do not
interfere in any way with their religious observances, so long as they
obey our laws and respect life and property. One of the most important
events in civilised society is the selection of suitable partners in
life; in happy England it is seldom a third party has any participation
in the matter, but throughout India it is quite a different affair. A
native, whether Hindoo or Mussulman, rich or poor, old or young, is
allowed to have as many wives as he thinks fit or can support. The mode
of selecting their wives and the marriage ceremony are very curious. Mr.
Kalo, we will say, is a merchant or poor man (Ryot). He has a son (say
ten years old). His neighbour's or friend's pet wife of the same caste
is in an interesting condition, and the two fathers privately arrange
for the children's marriage. The priest or priests of the same caste
are sent for, and the boy, decked with jewellery, is betrothed to the
forthcoming progeny, provided it should turn out to be of the opposite
sex. A grand supper of currie and rice is then given to all friends and
relatives, washed down with any amount of bhang. The boy is seated by
the side of the happy (?) mother-in-law elect, the priests being masters
of the ceremonies. Months roll on, and the happy day approaches. The
little stranger is ushered into this world of trouble. Should it prove
to be a girl, the priests are again sent for, and the betrothal is
repeated, in presence of friends and relatives, a grand supper of course
being given, and the portion falling to the lot of the innocent babe is
then set apart. At seven years of age, providing both are alive, another
ceremony takes place, when they are legally married, and, if of the
upper class, the bride is decked with as much jewellery as she can
fairly stand under; if of the middle or lower class, the ornaments are
generally of silver, beautifully wrought; but the happy pair continue to
reside with their respective parents until the bride is from ten to
twelve years of age. In the meantime the boy may have been married a
dozen times to young ladies whose betrothed husbands had died, and who
would be regarded by Hindoo or Mussulman law as widows. The happy day,
however, at last approaches. The young bride and bridegroom again meet,
but this time at their mutual shrine or musjid. The young couple are
here united by the priests. A banquet is then given, at which they are
well sprinkled with rice, bhang being freely distributed. The bride is
then driven off to the bridegroom's mansion (or hut, as the case may
be), and next morning is ushered into the harem, decked with jewellery
and precious stones, and from this time is looked upon as its head. She
now bids farewell to the outer world, being considered the husband's pet
wife, and is withdrawn from the gaze even of her own relatives. We in
happy England on meeting with friends or relatives are accustomed, after
our first greetings, to inquire after the wives and children; but in
India it is the greatest insult you can offer a man, whatever his
station, to mention his wife. The furthest you may go, according to
Indian etiquette, is to ask whether the family is well. Many in the
upper classes have some hundreds of wives, to all of whom they are
legally married; and in both the upper and lower classes, in many
instances, the husband does not know the names of some of his wives, as
they continue to retain their own after marriage.
TAKING THE CENSUS.
During the taking of the census in India, in 1871, I was Garrison
Sergeant-Major of Allahabad, and had some eight or ten Native male
servants, all of whom were married, but I had never troubled myself
about the number of wives or children they had, so long as they
performed their duties in my service. Schedules were issued to all
officers and non-commissioned officers detached (employed on the staff).
I gave directions to my head Sirdar-bearer to parade the whole of my
Native establishment, male or female, old or young, at a certain time in
the verandah, opposite my door. The time arrived. All the men and
children were duly paraded, but not a woman put in her appearance. I
enquired where the wives were, and was told that they were in the house.
I informed them that I must see them. They all looked at each other in
blank despair. I gave them to understand that it was a Government order
and that it must be obeyed. One man stated that I might kill him if I
liked, but I should not see his wives. I had to be very firm with them,
assuring them that I would not lay a finger on them, but that there was
the order and it must and should be obeyed, even if I had to force my
way into their harems. My wife came to my assistance, and, with a little
coaxing from her, we succeeded in unearthing some forty "dear creatures"
encased in chudders (or sheets) perforated about the face. They all sat
down in families. I then commenced to take from the husbands their names
and ages. On inquiring of the men the names and ages of their respective
wives, I found they knew neither the one nor the other in many cases,
and had to enquire of their spouses. Some of the dark ladies seemed to
enjoy the joke, which they expressed in titters of laughter, but were
only too glad when they were told they might go to their homes.
SERVANTS AND CASTE.
A gentleman in India is compelled to keep at least eight or ten
servants, their salaries ranging from four rupees (8/-) to ten rupees
(£1) per month; for the man who cooks your food will not put it on the
table for you, or look after the table in any way; the man who brings
you clean water won't take away the dirty; the one who sweeps your house
will not clean your dog; the one that grooms your horse will not drive
you; and the one that looks after your clothing and cash will do nothing
else. The gardener will look after the garden, but should he come across
anything dead, he will not touch it. The female servants will attend to
the mistress and children in dressing them or walking out with them, but
will not wash them or do any manual work. The dhoby (washerman) will
wash and get up your clothing, but will do nothing else. Such is caste.
THE STEPS TAKEN TO PREVENT ANOTHER MUTINY.
Some of my readers would perhaps like to know what steps our Government
has taken to guard against another revolt, as it is necessary that we
must have a Native army. Previous to the outbreak, implicit confidence
was placed in our Sepoys. Nearly all our forts were held by them. All
treasure was in their keeping. They held large tracts of country,
without a single company of Europeans near them. They were brigaded
together, both horse, foot, and artillery, and not a troop, nor a single
gun, manned by Europeans, was near to "contaminate" these much-pampered
gents. Our vast magazines were in their custody. Things had come to such
a state, that they would only do just as they liked. They had no one to
overlook them, and consequently could hatch up just whatever they liked.
They commenced to look upon themselves as lords and masters. Now just
mark the difference in their relative position:--
1. All forts are manned by Europeans; not a Native company
lives in any fort of any note.
2. All treasures, and military stores of all descriptions,
are kept under the watchful eyes of European soldiers.
3. Not a station of any importance, from Calcutta to
Peshawur, but there are Native troops, with a full
proportion of Europeans to see fair play.
4. There is not a gun on the whole plain of India manned by
Natives--all are manned by Europeans. The only Native
gunners we have are those who man the mountain train
batteries--small guns carried on mules.
5. All ammunition for Infantry is kept in charge of
Europeans. The Natives are allowed three rounds per man.
6. No Native, high or low, rich or poor, is allowed to carry
arms except he holds a license--not even a stick with a
piece of iron attached to it.
7. All Native Regiments, both Horse and Foot, have Native
Christians serving in their ranks; most of the band and
drummers are Native Christians, and a watchful eye is kept
upon them, although perhaps many of them do not think so.
The native officers are now a very intelligent body of men.
They are promoted by merit, and some of them are very clever
fellows; whilst the old school were a lot of doting old
men--it would break their caste to look at them.
Again, the eurasions (half-castes) are now in such numbers all over the
country that it would be a matter almost of impossibility for a
conspiracy to be got up without their knowing it. The pure native hates
them. Some of them are almost as black as one's boot, and yet they ape
the European. A native would spit in their faces but for the strong arm
of the law. They will tell you that "God made black man, and God made
white man, but,"--with a contemptible sneer--"Sahib, who made them?"
So, if ever we have another outbreak, we shall know it is coming, and
then, too, we must remember it will not now take our troops five months
to reach the shores of India. We have a native army at this time, all
told, of nearly 500,000 men, that would go to any part of the globe with
us; and some of these fine mornings I dare prophecy Mr. Russia will find
out to his cost that we have a really loyal native army, and led by some
of the best blood this silver-coasted isle of ours can produce. We have
nothing to fear, even from crafty Russia, although she boasts of two
million bayonets. I say again our resources of good loyal resolute men
even in the Punjaub alone, are inexhaustible, for our equal laws since
the Mutiny have gained the high esteem of countless millions, that
would, if we required it, follow us to any part of the globe. I do not
wish to foster a bellicose spirit, but Russia must not come one yard
further or she will have to confront in deadly conflict millions of a
free, happy, and contented empire, determined to uphold at all costs our
glorious old standard.
Before we close our notes upon India, we will just glance at the final
transfer of the great East India Company of merchant adventurers trading
in the East Indies. They had but small beginnings: they were nothing but
a trading company; but gradually they kept advancing, grasping here a
slice and there a slice, until 1757. The terrible tragedy of the Black
Hole at Calcutta aroused to the highest pitch all the energies of the
sons of Britain; and a Clive, with but a handful of men, dashed at their
vast hordes on the plains of Plassey, scattered them in all directions,
captured all their guns, dictated his own terms of peace, and laid the
foundation of the British Empire in the East. This gigantic Company had
extended our rule from Cape Comorin to the Himalayas, and from
Bramapootra to the Bay of Combay; but by mismanagement this vast
appendage had been shaken to its foundations: oceans of blood had been
spilt, and India had had enough of slaughter. At length the happy day
arrived (1st November, 1858) when the important announcement was made
that the East India Company had ceased to exist, and that some two
hundred and fifty millions of people were in future to be governed by
Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria. This was truly a happy day
throughout the length and breadth of this vast dependency. The
Proclamation by the Queen in Council to the princes, chiefs and peoples
of India was announced simultaneously at Calcutta, Bombay, Madras,
Allahabad, Lahore, and throughout all the stations of India. Amidst the
roar of cannon and triumphal martial music, our gracious Queen was
proclaimed actual and supreme ruler of India. At the same time and
places it was announced in her name that the claims of retributive
justice had ceased, and the hand of mercy, with a Christian spirit, was
held out for all crimes short of absolute and merciless murders of
defenceless men, women and children, in accordance with the laws of God
and man, that murderers shall die; but to all others forgiveness was
freely offered. Thousands were frantic with joy, and called aloud for
God to bless the Queen. We would here note a remarkable instance of the
mutability of human grandeur. At Cawnpore (1st November, 1858), while
the proclamation was being read, the ex-King of Delhi was brought into
that station on his way to Calcutta, under a strong guard. The thunder
of the guns, the triumphant strains of the bands, with the glitter and
display all around--such a scene at such a station as Cawnpore was
emphatically suggestive of the word "retribution." The following is a
fair sample of the spirit that pervaded nearly all classes throughout
India. The papers were full of speeches from educated native gentlemen.
One ran as follows:--"Gentlemen, I see around me many of higher rank,
and better able to express the sentiments of our countrymen than I am;
but as you have done me the honour to call upon me on this important
occasion, I have much pleasure in stating that my intercourse in life
has been much with Englishmen, and I know so much of the vast resources,
the great power and the great goodness of the English people, that I do
not think myself altogether incompetent to offer an opinion. If I had
power and influence I would proclaim throughout the length and breadth
of the land that never were the natives more grievously mistaken than
they have been in adopting the notion palmed upon them by designing and
wicked men, that their religion was at stake. That notion has been at
the root of the late rebellion. The mass of the people do not understand
the English character: they do not understand the generosity, the
benevolence of the governing power, the even-handed justice with which
that power is willing and anxious always to do that which is right
between man and man, without a reference whatever as to whether the man
belongs to the governing or to the governed class. If all this were
known, where would be rebellion in the land? Certainly there never would
have been such an outbreak as that which recently shook the foundations
of this empire. The only remedy is education. Nothing has distressed me
more, among the acts of the late Government, than the positive
prohibition against incurring any expense on the score of education.
Lord William Bentinck--a name which must ever be remembered with
reverence--once said in this city: That for all the evils, all the
oppressions, all the grievances under which India labours, the first
remedy was education, the second remedy was education, and the third
remedy was education. But, gentlemen, to come to the point, I have read
the proclamation of Her Majesty with great pleasure, with awakened
feelings, with tears of joy when I came to the last paragraph.[21] A
nobler production it has never been my lot to have met with. The most
just, the broadest principles are therein set forth: humanity, mercy,
justice, breathe through every line, and we ought all to welcome it with
the highest hope and the liveliest gratitude. Depend upon it, when our
Sovereign tells us, 'In your prosperity is our strength, in your
contentment our security, and in your gratitude our best reward,' the
future of India is full of encouragement and hope for her children. What
could have been nobler or more beautiful, what could have better
dignified even the tongue of a queen than language such as that? Let us
kneel down before her with every feeling of loyalty: let us welcome the
new reign with the warmest sentiment of gratitude and the deepest
feeling of devotion. 'God bless our Queen.'" Since then, millions of
money have been spent to improve this vast country, on roads, bridges,
irrigation, canals, railroads; and last, but not least, education has
not been forgotten. Every village has its school, but the creeds are
respected, and in a few short years almost every tongue will call upon
God to bless the British. They have now equality of laws: the same firm
hand of justice that guides the European, guides, guards, and protects
the poor, the widow and the fatherless. The teeming millions are
governed in a Christian spirit, and are united to us in love and
gratitude. "Unity is strength." We are not of those who wish to foster a
bellicose spirit, but to live in peace with all mankind. But we would
point out to our readers that British India is quite capable of
defending herself against all comers, having an inexhaustible supply of
men, and requiring only arms and good leaders, both of which are at our
command. Our vast magazines throughout the country are well supplied
with arms; and as for leaders, we have thousands who would not turn
their backs upon the proudest and haughtiest sons of Adam's race,
standing sentry, as it were, upon the gates of India.[22] We have
nothing to fear, even from the craftiest of our enemies. Within three
months, our Government could, if required, put three hundred thousand,
four hundred thousand, or a million of men into the field, as well
drilled as most of our crack regiments. The Indian Government have, for
years past, had a splendid system of putting men or passing men into the
Reserves: and each one of the Native regiments could, say within seven
days, be brought up to a strength of ten thousand men, well drilled and
well armed. The Reserves are being continually drilled at least one
month per annum; they have all a life pension to look forward to: it is
small, 'tis true--two annas (threepence) per diem; but that amount will
keep a native and his family from starving. It is more to him than one
shilling is here. Then you must remember he is not an old man: he has
not reached the mature age of thirty years. Again, in accordance with
the proclamation issued in 1858, we do not interfere in any way by force
with their creed or caste, every man being permitted to worship God
after the dictates of his own conscience. We have not the slightest
hesitation in affirming that if the Lion in India was aroused, we could,
within three months, put into the field such an army as would astonish
the civilized world--most of them well drilled men, thousands of them
not at all to be despised: Ghoorkas, Sikhs, Beloochees, and Afridis,
with good leaders that would face Old Nick himself: they would die to a
man, but never yield. We conquered them after a lot of hard fighting, as
they had no unity. Now they all, united heart and hand, acknowledge one
flag and one Empress. It cannot be denied, although crafty Russia holds
out the olive branch of peace, that she means to have the whole of India
if we will only allow her. Mark it well, reader: the advances of Russia,
like those of a tiger, have ever been wary, crouching, and cowardly,
until the moment arrives for pouncing upon her prey. They often disarm
all apprehension of evil by pretensions to peace and friendliness; but
so sure as she attacks India, she will find a "Tartar" in the Briton,
backed up by tens, yea, hundreds of thousands of men that are second to
none. She will find an united India, with its teeming millions, ready to
uphold that flag which proclaims liberty to the slave, the conscience,
the press: that protects with a strong arm all law-abiding subjects,
whether of European or Asiatic origin. We have not the slightest
hesitation in saying, that no European Power could withstand us in
India. They must come by land or confront our fleet. A small army, say
one hundred thousand, would be rolled up in no time: and a huge army,
say of the strength that Napoleon invaded Russia with in 1812, would
melt away from the ray of an Indian sun, faster than Napoleon's vast
host did from frost. Rest content, reader, we have nothing to fear.
India is able to defend herself so long as her sons are guided by the
sons of Albion. Imbecile or traitorous must be that Government which
slumbers while Russia is approaching its borders: while that grasping
Power is approaching close to its frontiers, and with which, ere long,
it will have to measure its strength and grapple with its huge
battalions. But we see no fear, knowing the stamp, the indomitable pluck
of hundreds of thousands of those who will stand by our old flag. In the
end, the old Bear will have to retire from the Lion's grasp. But we must
not be caught napping: our motto must be, "Fear God and keep your powder
dry," and as true Britons we need fear no one else. No one from the
Viceroy downwards dare to interfere with the natives. So long as they
obey the laws, the strong arm of the law will protect them; the rich
cannot oppress them, whilst the poor have the gospel preached to them.
They have an open Bible in their own language; they can sit under their
own vine and fig-tree, and none dare make them afraid. This is what our
forefathers fought so desperately for, and handed down to us. There are
now thousands throughout the vast plain and hills of peaceful India that
know the joyful sound. Hundreds, yea, thousands whose forefathers
worshipped the sun, the moon, the stars, the cow, the bull, the monkey,
the peacock, and hundreds of other gods, now worship the only true and
living God, through the Great Mediator, the Man Christ Jesus. Again, my
readers must remember that thousands of Natives from Calcutta to
Peshawur are well educated, fit to go into any society: they know as
much about this densely populated God-defended isle as we do, and as
much about Russia and its despotic laws, with Siberia and the knout, as
we do. They have made the laws of different European nations their
study: they know well our vast strength, that we are an undefeated race;
that India is but a portion of the great empire that acknowledges London
as its capital, and our beloved Queen as their Empress. They know well
that the highest positions in the State are attainable by all that will
qualify themselves, and yet retain, if they wish, their own religious
beliefs. We have now Native judges sitting on our benches to administer
justice, to all that seek its protection or that break the law. I hope
my readers will be able to see that India is content, is happy and is
safe. She will in the future stand or advance, shoulder to shoulder,
with the sons of Albion, and side by side with the wild boys of the
Green Isle; and any that should try to wrench it from us, will find a
hard nut to crack in a hornet's nest.
LETTERS FROM INDIA.
The following are a few of my letters from India from 1857 to 1876. I
trust that they will prove of more than passing interest. Some of them
will be found amusing, whilst others will be found heart-rending, and
will sink deep into more than one parent's heart, and set them thinking,
"Where is my boy to-night?" Many of them were written under great
difficulty, not with the thermometer below freezing point, but in the
midst of heat that was almost enough to give one a slow bake, with the
thermometer indicating in the sun 140° of heat, and in the shade 120°,
with the sweat rolling off one like rain: in some stations with the hot
winds, 30° can be added. But I felt it my duty and a privilege to write
as often as I could to those that are near and dear to me. The following
are all that can be found:--
Kurrachee, 28th Nov., 1857.
My Dear Parents,
Thank God, we have landed safe and sound once more on _terra
firma_, after a long and tedious sail across the ocean. We
had what is called a splendid voyage until we got near the
Cape of Good Hope, when a storm that threatened our entire
destruction overtook us. It was truly awful, with the
appalling claps of thunder (the loudest I have ever heard),
and the flashes of lightning were dreadful; while a heavy
sea broke completely over us, carrying all before it. I was
on watch on deck. It was about three o'clock a.m. on the
19th of October. Half the watch were ordered below and the
hatches fastened down, when, with a crash, down came the
foremast. The shrieks of the women and children below were
piteous, while the cries of the poor fellows gone overboard
with the fallen mast were dreadful. The watch, I am happy to
say, were calm and did all they could to help the sailors;
but alas! the poor fellows that had gone overboard, we could
not save. The sea was rolling mountains high, and no boat
could live one minute in it. It was as dark as the grave,
save when the flashes of lightning revealed our misery. Then
another terrible sea caught us, dashed us on our beam-ends,
swept away all our boats, with the bulwarks on the port
side, and the two remaining masts were snapped asunder as if
they had been twigs. To all human appearance the
Head-quarters of the Royal Fusiliers (about 350 strong) were
doomed to a watery grave, when the good ship (the "Owen
Glandore") righted herself. We looked in a terrible plight.
A portion of the mainmast was left, with the mainsail all in
ribbons. Seventeen poor fellows were washed overboard to
meet a watery grave. Ropes were thrown to them, but it was
all in vain. The captain was an old salt veteran of some
fifty years; and with his trumpet gave his orders as calmly
as possible. All was right with such a man, in life or in
death. The sea was now breaking completely over us, and we
had to hold on the best way we could. About five a.m. she
gave a terrible dive, as we thought; it was a huge wave
passing completely over us. The timbers of the noble ship
cracked, and she shook from stem to stern; the captain,
lashed to the poop, still calm. I think I see that manly
face uplifted, as he exclaimed with a loud voice: "Thank
God! she still floats." He then shouted to our Colonel
Aldsworth, "If the mainsail goes, all is lost; you are in
greater danger now than ever you were in front of
Sebastopol." We (the watch) could but look at that calm
face, but not a word was uttered. Death was all around us,
but as true Britons it was no use murmuring; all was quiet,
all were calm. We were truly, dear parents, looking death in
the face, for there were no back-doors. But just then, when
skill had done its best, and when to all human appearance we
were about to be launched into eternity, to meet a watery
grave, a still inaudible voice said: "Peace be still." The
wind ceased, and the storm was all over; but the sea was
still rolling heavily, and we were but a helpless tub in the
midst of the raging billows of the fathomless ocean.
Gradually, however, the ocean became a heavy swell, and in a
few hours as calm as a fish-pond. We had had a most
miraculous escape, and our brave old captain requested the
colonel to have prayers at once, and thank Him fervently who
said to the raging billows: "Peace be still." All hands were
at once set to work, and all who could use a needle were set
to sail-making. Jurymasts were brought up out of the hold,
and in a few days, without putting into port, we began to
look quite smart again, and went on our way rejoicing, to
help to revenge our murdered countrymen, women and children.
The captain complimented our colonel upon having such a cool
body of men. We find this country in a terrible state, but I
see no fear but what we shall be a match for them before it
is over. I have not time to say more at present; will drop a
few lines, if possible, next mail, and give you all the news
I can. I am happy to say I am quite well, and we must make
the best of a bad job. It will not do to give in at trifles.
We are to have an execution parade this afternoon; there are
twelve of these beauties to be blown from the mouth of the
cannon. We have had one such parade before. 'Tis a horrible
sight--legs, arms, and all parts of the body flying about,
and coming to mother earth with a thud. The sight is so
sickening that I do not care to dwell upon it. Give my
respects to all old friends, and
Believe me,
My dear Parents,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.
Kurrachee, East India, 4th Dec., 1857.
My Dear Dear Parents,
Once more, a line from what some people call a glorious
land, but to give it its proper name just now, it is a hell
upon earth. The fiend-like deeds that are being perpetrated
daily out here are beyond description, and should these
brutes get the better of our troops, every European here
will have to die a terrible death, and we shall have to
commence with another "Plassy." But I see no fear. Mark me,
we shall beat these murderers of women and children, but it
will not do to stop to count them. Thousands of men who
fought and conquered at the Alma, Balaclava, Inkermann, and
twice stormed the bloody parapets of the Redan, are not men
to be easily subdued. I see our Government has put the right
man into the right place as our commander and leader. Sir
Colin Campbell is not a man likely to be "taken short," but
is a regular go-ahead, fire-eating old cock. He is,
moreover, no novice, has been trained in a rough school
under Wellington, Gough, and Napier. It was he that put the
finishing touch on the Russians at the Alma and commanded
the thin red line at Balaclava, thus nobly sustaining the
prestige of the flag that has waved triumphant out here
since Plassey (1757), and which may now with safety be
entrusted to his keeping. We had no idea when we left
Portsmouth that we were bound for such a hell-hole as this,
or I do not think we should have brought our women and
children with us. I find we are to move up country shortly;
we are waiting for reinforcements; the women and children
and all extra baggage to be left behind. That looks like
business. Our Government is not going to play with these
gents; and, as true Britons, if we are to die, we shall meet
death sword in hand. Our men are roused to a pitch almost of
frantic madness to get at the cowardly brutes. Cawnpore and
Jensie will be wiped out with a terrible retribution.
Britons have the feelings of humanity, but one's blood runs
cold to read and to hear daily of the dastard base deeds (of
the rebels), to poor defenceless women and children, for no
other crime than that they have white faces. I dare prophecy
that the enemy will find out we are the true offspring of
their conquerors at Plassey, Seringapatam, Ferozeshah,
Moodkee, Sobraon, Goojerat, and scores of other fields where
they have had to bow in humble submission to our
all-conquering thin red line. As for myself, I see no fear.
I shall not die till my time comes, and the same powerful
Hand that has protected me thus far, is able to do it out
here. Our line--the ever-memorable thin victorious line--is
already advancing, and it will not halt until our proud old
flag is again waved in supremacy over all the fortresses,
cities, and fertile plains of India, and these cringing
brutes begging for mercy (what they are now strangers to). I
will, if I am spared, take notes, and write as often as I
can. You must try and keep your spirits up. I am as happy as
a bug in a rug. I never go half-way to meet troubles, and I
believe the best way to get over all difficulties in this
world is to face them. I have a few pounds that I have no
use for; please accept them as a mark of love from your wild
boy. Poor mother will find a use for them. I enclose a draft
on Gurney's Bank. We have a number of Norwich men in the
Fusiliers, most of them fine-looking men; they joined us as
volunteers from other regiments just before we left home.
It is now the depth of winter, but we find it quite warm
enough during the day. I intend to adhere strictly to
temperance, hot or cold. I could stand the cold in the
Crimea without drink stronger than coffee; and as we crossed
the equator twice on our voyage out here, I think I know a
little already of what excessive heat is, and I did without
it then. Our doctors all agree that the temperate man out
here has the best of it. He is more prepared to resist the
different diseases that prevail among Europeans, such as
fevers, rheumatism, disorder of the liver, and even cholera;
that I can testily from my experience in Turkey and the
Crimea. I find the inhabitants out here are a mixed up lot,
but if one can once master the Hindoostanee language, he can
make himself understood all over the vast plains, from
Calcutta to Peshawur. As soon as things are a little bit
quiet, I shall go in for Hindoostanee. Tell poor mother to
keep her pecker up. I do not believe this "row" out here
will last long, as troops are landing in all directions; and
if they could not subdue a handful of men that were in the
country when it started last May, what may they expect now
that the Crimean veterans are thrown into the scale against
them. It will be a war of extermination. I do not think our
men will wait to quarter the foe; if we can only close with
them, it will be one deadly thrust with that never-failing
weapon, the bayonet, and all debts will be paid: retribution
must eventually overtake such bloodthirsty wretches. But I
must bring this to a close. Give my kind regards to all old
friends, trusting this will find you as it leaves me, in the
enjoyment of that priceless blessing, good health.
And believe me,
My dear Patents, as ever,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.
P.S.--I find our old friends of the Light Division the 2nd
Rifles, the 23rd Fusiliers, the 88th Connaught Rangers, the
90th and 97th have already had a "shy" at the foe, and thus
helped to revenge poor defenceless creatures. Our turn will
come yet; it will then be "the d--l take the hindermost."
Please address as above; it will follow me if I am above the
soil. Keep your spirits up, mother dear.
T. G.
Camp, Meean-Meer (Punjaub),
5th April, 1858.
My Dear and ever Dear Parents,
From my former letters from Kurrachee and Mooltan, and by
the newspapers, you will see how near the verge of ruin this
large appendage to our empire has been brought; in fact, it
has been shaken to its foundations, by (what shall I say),
mismanagement. And these much puffed-up Sepoys (native
soldiers) have been spoilt; and, depending upon their
strength and our weakness (for kindness has evidently been
looked upon as weakness), they have risen up to crush us.
The determined stands that our handful of men have made on
the heights around Delhi and other places where the honour
of our glorious old flag has been at stake, has been
sublime, and rendered them worthy to rank beside the heroes
of Albuera, Salamanca, Vittoria, Waterloo, Alma, Inkermann,
the Nile, and Trafalgar; and whilst Old England, side by
side the brave sons of Ireland, can produce such men to
stand beside and guard her flag, she has nothing to fear;
and the Sepoys out here will find, I dare prophecy, before
twelve months have rolled over, that we are the true
descendants of these conquerors. If they could not subdue a
mere handful of men, what may they expect now that the
veterans of Alma and Inkermann are thrown into the scale
against them. A terrible day of vengeance has dawned; the
sword of justice will be plunged into the hearts of the
murderers of defenceless women and children. The lion in the
Briton is roused, the blood of the innocent cry for
vengeance. But remember, it's only the native army that has
risen against us; the inhabitants generally are on the side
of law and order. And, I will be bound, our troops will take
tea with the traitors before we have done with them, and
bring them on their knees begging for mercy (to which they
are strangers). Now for a little news. In my letter from
Kurrachee I told you that we expected to re-embark and go
round to Calcutta; but instead of that, our Government, with
the reinforcements that were arriving almost daily, were
determined to grapple with the mutineers, North, East, West,
and South, at the same time; so strong reinforcements have
been pushed on into the Punjaub to strike its war-like
inhabitants with awe. And the Royal Fusiliers--second to
none--about 1300 bayonets; the 94th, 1200 strong; the 7th
Dragoon Guards (or Black Horse), about 800 sabres, and three
batteries of Horse and Field Artillery, with 24 guns, moved
up country. The natives received us in every camp with joy
and gladness. It was very pleasant when we left Kurrachee in
December last; we had a march of about 120 miles to the
banks of the river Indus--it's a noble stream. We found the
road or track very sandy--we sank near to our ankles in sand
at every stride--which made it hard work to get along. But
the honour of our flag was at stake, and I think I may say,
without egotism, that it was safe in our hands. We had
native guides to take us across the desert, as in many
places there was no trace of road. The inhabitants brought
all sorts of eatables in the way of fish, vegetables, eggs,
fowls, and fruit into our camp. The accounts that appear in
the country papers daily are enough to make one's blood
boil. The murdering, bloodthirsty villains will all meet
their doom yet. I told you a little of how we treated them
in Kurrachee and Mooltan, and should we ever cross the path
of these murdering traitors, I will be bound to say that our
fellows will give it them right and left.
We found flat-bottom boats awaiting us on the Indus, and at
once marched on board. Each steamer had a flat-bottomed boat
to tow up; with each pair they could stow away about 400
men, with kits and arms. As soon as all were on board, off
we started. Our destination, as far as we then knew, was
Mooltan. We found we had to face a very strong current, with
a native at the head of the boat constantly sounding. It was
very amusing to hear him shouting continually, from morning
till night: "No bottom, no bottom." "Stop her; back her."
"Teen put" (3 feet). "Chay put" (6 feet). "No bottom."
"Sanadoo put" (2-1/2 feet). "Stop her!" Often we would stick
fast on a sand-bank, when all the crew, and perhaps some 50
of our men, would jump into the water and shove her back. At
other times we would have to land half our men at a time,
with long ropes to pull the steamer and flat along, or we
should have lost ground. Sometimes it was rough work, with
so many creeks to cross up to our middles, and sometimes our
necks, in mud and water. The first to cross would be a
native boatman to make the rope fast; then it did not matter
much how deep it was. You would be astonished how quickly
our men got over. We have a very witty Irishman in my
Company, and he often kept us all alive. One morning, as we
were about to get over one of these nice creeks, he shouted
out: "Here go, boys, for ould Ireland's home and glory," as
he dashed into it. As you know, I do not drink, and so our
witty friend often gets my go of rum. We found the river
abounded with gigantic amphibious reptiles--crocodiles. We
had a little sport daily, shooting them; also huge snakes
in abundance. So it was not safe even in the creeks to have
a bathe. We lost one man overboard; the poor fellow was
snapped up by a crocodile before a boat could reach him. We
lost another man by the bite of a snake; both these men had
gone through the whole of the Crimean campaign. In due
course we arrived safely at Mooltan--1300 miles from
Kurrachee. Here we remained for a few days and had a good
look at the citadel from whence the valuable
Koh-i-noor--worth about £2,000,000 sterling--was taken by
Lord Gough, and presented to Her Most Gracious Majesty in
1848. We then pushed on here by bullock carts through a vast
desert, the road all the way being strewn with straw. We had
to take turns at riding, one company being sent on daily
until we had all left Mooltan. We had five days of this sort
of travelling.
On the evening of the fifth day our first company--about 130
strong--marched in here. The 81st were delighted to see us.
They were very weak, having suffered heavily last year with
cholera. They had been holding on by the skin of their
teeth, for there are about 4000 mutineers here, and the 81st
were only about 300 strong at headquarters, having two
strong detachments out. Those of our men who were with the
leading companies, came out to meet us with all sorts of
news. We all landed here safely by the end of February,
except sick, lame, and lazy, and women and children who were
left behind at Kurrachee, as we expected to take the field.
Our men were almost mad with rage when the order came in for
us to remain at Meean Meer; the old Fusiliers wanted to
measure their strength with these bloodthirsty wretches at
Lucknow. But we found, after sending out two or three strong
detachments, that we had a handful here, prisoners being
brought in daily from the surrounding country, tried, and
executed at once. The execution parades are ghastly sights
to witness, but the horrible, fiend-like deeds that they
have perpetrated leave but little room in our hearts for
pity. We execute, more or less, every day. The blowing away
from the mouth of the cannon is a sickening sight, and I do
not care to dwell upon it. Since we came here I have been
appointed drill-sergeant of the regiment. It carries one
shilling per diem extra; but I am at it from 4 a.m. until 7
p.m., but rest during the day time. You, I think, will
notice the date of this. I know poor mother will remember
it. I am just 24 years in this troublesome world. I enclose
a small draft for poor mother's acceptance; it is the first
three months' extra pay, and a little with it to make it up
to a "fiver." Mind, this is for mother's use, and no one
else is to interfere with it. If we are ordered into the
field I will drop a line if possible, but not a little
newspaper. I see no fear; I shall not die till my time
comes; I do not believe the man is born yet that is to shoot
me, or surely I never should have escaped so often as I did
in the Crimea. When I look back to the fields of the Alma,
the two Inkermanns, the night of the 22nd of March, the 7th
and 18th of June (1855), the dash at the rifle pits, and no
end of other combats, including the storming of Sebastopol,
I cannot but think that I am being spared by an All-wise God
for some special purpose; that, to all appearance, He has
built a hedge around about me, and has permitted the deadly
weapons to go thus far and no farther, to show me in days to
come the finger of His love. Again, dear parents, look over
my letter wherein I describe that terrible 19th of October,
off the Cape of Good Hope, when to all human appearance the
ship "Owen Glandore" was lost, and all on board consigned to
a watery grave. You note that we lost all our boats, masts
and sail, and were nothing but a helpless tub floating with
a freight of 390 human beings, expecting every moment to be
launched into eternity. But just as our gallant captain said
all was lost, an inaudible voice said: "Peace be still,"
when the wind ceased, and all, except 17 men that had been
washed overboard, were saved. I find by the country papers
that summary punishment is being fast dealt out to these
wretches all over the country, and that they will not face
our men, the dreaded "Feringhees," as they call us, unless
behind strong positions, and that they are receiving daily
some very awkward lessons and have already found that our
reign in India is not all over.
These little Ghoorkas are the inhabitants of the Nepaul
Hills, and just at present they are worth their weight in
gold to us. I should think, from what I have read and heard
of them, that there are no better soldiers in the world, if
well led; and the Sikhs that gave us so much trouble in
1845-6 and 1848-9, are not far behind them. We have a
regiment of the latter here with us; they are fine-looking
men, not at all to be despised. I went, by permission,
through the Mutineers' camp a few days ago. I was astonished
to find that a number of them could speak English--mind,
they are all of them disarmed. We found some of them very
talkative, asking all sorts of questions about the Russians,
when they found we had been fighting them. I asked one
venerable looking officer, with his breast covered with
honours, what he thought about the Mutiny. His answer was
that it was brought about by bad, wicked men who had eaten
the Government salt; that there were good and bad in every
regiment, and that the bad men had roused them all. I asked
him if he, as an old officer, thought our Government would
have given in if we had been beaten at Delhi? "No, never"
was his reply. He stated that he had served us faithfully
for upwards of 40 years, that he had fought many a
hard-fought field against the Sikhs, and would never forsake
us; they might kill him if they liked, but he would be
faithful to the end. This old veteran could say no more, and
with the big tears rolling down his furrowed cheeks, he left
us with a "Salam, salam, sahibs." We found others looked at
us with contempt, but they were silent. The 16th Grenadiers
are one of the disarmed regiments here. I think I never
looked upon such a body of men; they may well be called
Grenadiers. I am not a waster, and I had to look up into the
face of every man I came near. Some rose to salute us, while
others sat contemptuously looking at us. I find they have
the reputation of being the best fighting regiment in the
East India Company. Some of them cursed the cavalry and said
it was all their fault they were disgraced as they were; and
that they would go to Lucknow and fight to the death for us,
if the Lord Sahib would let them. But I must bring this to a
close, or I could keep it up for a week. You ask me if you
may publish my letters. Please yourself; I state nothing but
facts. I hope this will find you all as it leaves me, in the
enjoyment of the best of blessings, good health, and believe
me, as ever,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
Drill-Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.
P.S.--A long letter costs no more to send than a short one,
and one feels a pleasure in writing to those we love, but
cannot see. Keep up your spirits, mother.
T. G.
Meean-Meer, 26th May, 1858.
My Dear Parents,
Well, dear parents, as I have but little to do during the
heat of the day, I will try and amuse myself by giving you a
little more news. It is extremely hot here at present; in
fact, enough to roast one during the day, with a hot wind
blowing a perfect hurricane: and, talk about dust and sand,
it's enough to blind one. We have been treated of late to
several sand-storms, as they are called out here, and I
think they have given them their right name. It's awful to
stand and see them coming on: the whole heavens become
black, all is still, not a breath of air: all at once we are
enveloped in sand, the wind blowing enough to sweep all
before it. All doors and windows must be well secured, and
even then it is impossible to see across the room. If one is
caught outside, the safest thing to do is to lie down at
once: if not, you stand a good chance of being blown clean
off your feet and coming to mother earth rather clumsily.
Well, this rebellion has received its death-blow at Lucknow,
although the enemy will give us a lot of trouble in Oude and
Rawalcund; but they will not face our men if there is a back
door left open to escape by. As far as I can see, the
Fusiliers are doomed to disappointment; we must obey orders.
Our commander got a nasty rap from Sir Colin Campbell for
requesting to be allowed to go into Lucknow with us: "Stay
where you are; when we require your services we will send
for you." But it's as well to keep a good look-out upon the
Punjaub, for should the Sikhs break out we shall be in a
hornet's nest, as we are right in the midst of a most
warlike race of people, and not very far from the Afghan
frontier; in fact, the Punjaub extends right up to the mouth
of the Khyber Pass. Some of the most distinguished regiments
in our army are in the Punjaub at present; fine, stalwart
men, that might die, but would never yield! The
Faugh-a-Ballagh[23] boys--the 87th Royal Irish
Fusiliers--are here with us, backed up by the 27th
Inniskillings,[24] both of which noble regiments have taught
the French some very awkward lessons. They call the 87th the
"Aigle" catchers: they captured an eagle from the French on
the field of Barrosa, and routed a whole French division
with a headlong bayonet charge. They call the 27th the
Waterloo lambs, and nice lambs they are at present. Should
our turn come, I have not the slightest doubt they will find
the Royal Fusiliers still, as at the Alma and Inkermann,
true Britons. As it is, we have a good handful in front of
us, for they are a cut-throat looking crew; but they stand
in awe of us. I was talking only yesterday (through an
interpreter) to a venerable looking, intelligent Sikh, who
had fought against us in a number of fields. He informed me
that after the fields of Ferozeshah and Sobraon, his men (he
was an old general) said they would not face us any more, as
we were not men at all, but devils in the form of men, that
nothing could resist. As for this war, it would soon be all
over, and it would be a good job for the Punjaubees; they
would fill up our ranks, and fight to the death by the side
of such dare-devils. He further stated that he had four sons
already with Campbell Sahib, and if he had four more, they
should all go. It's all very well to talk like that now. An
Asiatic generally carries two faces under his turban, and,
mark me, our Government has a long purse, with plenty of
that which makes the wheel turn smoothly. Again, we have
been victorious all along the line, and so long as that is
the case, we shall have plenty to jump into the mutineers'
boats; but with the vast population around us, it would not
do to lose a single battle. Nothing must be left to chance;
and our Government, I think, knows well what it is about.
Rebellion must be crushed at any cost; then the people may
be treated kindly, giving them the right hand of fellowship,
with justice: protecting the weak from the oppressor, and
shielding the law-abiding subject from the lawless. Under
the old system this was unknown; for a chief rajah ruled
with despotic monarchy, and might, not right, carried sway
in every state. Accordingly, if the Maharajah (native king)
was in any way opposed by one of his subjects, he must die:
or if he was left alive, he was horribly mutilated and all
his goods confiscated.
Thus, hundreds of thousands are only too happy to be under
our flag, although I find the East India Company wink at
lots of things they do not want to see or know of. I am
sorry to say we are losing a number of men here through
fever. They tell us we shall have rain next month, then it
will be more pleasant. I am happy to say that I have my
health remarkably well. I am at it by 3 a. m. daily,
drilling first disorderly men; then recruits, then with the
regiment, then at the recruits again; so I have a lively
time of it, shouting and bawling about six hours every day,
except Sunday. I am diving into the "History of India"
(Thornton's). The amount of fighting our people have had out
here is marvellous. Our men have had to hold on by the skin
of their teeth; but the tables have been completely turned,
and it would not do for us to lose what our forefathers
fought so desperately for. Thus far, our men have proved
that they are worthy descendants of the conquerors of
Plassey, and that the prestige of our glorious old flag is
safe in our keeping. We still keep on with the executing
parades. The rope is used pretty freely. Mr. Calcraft is
never complained of for being clumsy. I for one am always
glad to get away from such scenes. I sometimes think there
ought to be a little more time given; the sentence is
passed, and often carried out within less than six hours.
But, again, you must remember we are playing for heavy
stakes, and they say all is fair in love and war. But I must
bring this to a close; it has been my fourth attempt. I am
writing this without a shirt on, nothing but a pair of thin
drawers, but the sweat is rolling off me like rain; so you
see we do not require much coal nor yet many blankets to
keep us warm. Good-bye, dear Parents.
And believe me as ever,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
Drill-Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.
Meean-Meer, October 15th, 1858.
My Dear, Dear Parents,
Well, dear parents, a number of eventful things have taken
place since my last. A wing, that is, half the regiment,
have gone into the field, with half the 7th Dragoons, so the
two sevens are together after the enemy; the one to lather
and the other to shave them. A battery of artillery and a
regiment of Ghoorkas are with them. Our wing was near 800
strong. We have had a very near squeak with our nice
beauties in front of us. They meant mischief, but we have
not been caught napping; traitors often have two faces under
one hat. It had been brought to the notice of our commander,
General Wyndham, C.B., that these fellows were armed to the
teeth, smuggled into their camp, and that as only a slender
guard was over them, they would rise and murder all they
could lay their hands upon; and, making their way to
Lucknow, throw in their lot with their comrades who were
fighting the detested Feringhees. All was kept quiet. One of
their number had divulged the whole plan. One morning, a
short time ago, the cavalry, artillery, and the Sikhs
marched upon our parade-ground. We did not know what was up;
every man had been ordered for parade. Our recruits were
served out with arms. We were ordered to _loosen_ ten rounds
of ammunition before we left our bungalows. All sorts of
questions were being asked as to who were going to get it.
As soon as we fell in, we were ordered to load with ball;
but still all was kept quiet. The general rode up to us, and
we saluted him. The hero of the Redan called out, "Good
morning, Fusiliers; I have a little job for you this
morning." Then turning to Col. Aldsworth, he said, "I think
we shall get over it without much trouble." We then marched
off and formed line, with the Sikhs on our left. The cavalry
were formed up so that they could act at once if required.
The artillery, part with us, loaded with port fires lit and
part with the Sikhs. The mutineers were ordered to fall in.
The general and his staff rode up to them, and ordered them
to remain there, on pain of instant death. Two troops of the
Dragoons--about 120 men--dashed in between them and their
camp and faced them. A number of carts, with about 100
natives with them, with picks and shovels, were close behind
us; but still we did not know what was to be the next move,
until the general returned to us. He then informed us with
a loud voice, that in every tent in yonder camp there were
arms concealed under the soil. A number of sergeants were
ordered to go to the left company, I being one of them. That
company were at once ordered to advance. The whole camp was
struck; that is, all the tents were thrown down as quickly
as possible by the natives; the picks and shovels brought
into play. And true enough, arms of all descriptions were
found, wrapped in paper or cloth, just under the soil. We
found pistols, swords, guns, spears, and daggers by
wholesale. They were thrown into the carts. Some of our men
got a good haul in the shape of rupees and gold mohurs worth
about thirty-two rupees each, (£3 4s.); but _they_ did not
go into the cart. We found daggers in their bedclothing in
many cases. A nice youth from the Green Isle, a stalwart
Grenadier belonging to us, found a good _shillagh_, with
lead let into the end of it. He had the whole lot of us
laughing enough to break our sides, at his expressions and
antics. He flourished his stick over his head, and declared
that he would "bate" a squadron of yonder traitors with that
bit of a "_carbine_." The general was with us, and laughed
heartily at him, handing him his flask, when he drank to
ould England and ould Ireland, as, one handing the flask
back to the general, with a salute, he said he hoped that
"his 'oner's cow would niver run dry." These weapons had
been smuggled in from Wozerabad, the Birmingham of India,
about forty miles from here. The disarmed regiment at
Mooltan, we found by wire, had bolted, and were coming on to
join these gents; but what a surprise it must have been to
them when they, many of them, found a strong rope around
their necks before the sun set that day, while others were
sent flying from the cannon's mouth. You remember me telling
you about a venerable old native officer that had served us
for forty years, and was so talkative about his loyalty:
that he had fought and would again, as long as he could
stand, for the British, and that he would be faithful to
death, and got so excited that he even mustered tears. Well,
that very old hypocrite has turned out to be the ringleader.
His own letter to his friends at Mooltan, with the whole
plan, have condemned the old villain and others to a
traitor's death, and he, with nineteen others, were blown to
atoms a few days ago. It would have been all up with some of
us long ago, but a merciful God has been watching over us.
I have not the slightest doubt that we should have destroyed
them to a man, but we must have lost a number of valuable
lives. My company's bungalow is the nearest to their camp,
about 500 yards distant; so poor No. 7 would have been in as
warm a corner as we had on the 18th June, 1855. But, thank
God, it has been ordered otherwise. The Mooltan people, (I
mean the runaway mutineers), are being brought in daily; one
pound, or ten rupees, is offered by our people for every
one, dead or alive. The Sikhs are making a harvest. The
mutineers are tried by court-martial, condemned, and
executed at once. I think you will say that is sharp work.
My dear parents, 400,000 men with arms in their hands are
not to be played with; mind, it's death or victory with us.
If our Government were to dilly-dally with them we should
have the Sikhs against us, as the following, I think, will
prove: "It's time for Britons to strike home; our men are,
so to speak, fighting with halters around their necks. This
is a war of extermination. Some three or four regiments of
Sikhs are stationed at Dera Ishmal Khan, about 280 miles
from here. These gents have struck for the same pay the
British soldier gets, and are determined to fight for it, if
required. These are the nice allies that our wing, the
Dragoons, artillery, and Ghoorkas are gone against: and news
by wire has just come in that they have got a little more
than they asked for. They were confronted by our people, and
ordered to give up their arms; but would not without a
fight: so they got it quick and sharp--grape, shot, shell,
and musketry, with the cavalry riding through and through
them. It has struck terror into the Sikhs all over the
country." So you see that sharp diseases require sharp
remedies. It has reminded their brethren all over the
country that we are still the conquering race. The regiment
of Sikhs here call them at Dera mad fools; but the tables,
you must remember, have been turned. I see by the papers it
has had the effect of making our friends, the Sikhs,
remarkably civil in all parts of the country. Grape is the
best dose that could be administered to traitors; those that
escape remember it as long as they live, and will hand it
down to their children's children.
Our motto out here must be: "We will surrender India only
with our lives." "Nought shall make us rue, if Britons to
themselves will act but true." Shoulder to shoulder we may
die; but so long as India is held in the hands of true
Britons, they will never yield. I trust this will find you
all quite well. But before I close I have a secret to tell
you: before this reaches you I shall most likely have taken
a _rib_ to share my joys and sorrows. It will be like all
the remainder, "for better for worse." I feel confident that
her sweet temper will cheer me in prosperity, and soothe me
in adversity, and that her tender, loving heart will lighten
the burden of life. I always look on the bright side, as I
think you know. I never go half way to meet troubles; I have
learnt by a little rough experience that the best way to
surmount difficulties is to face them manfully. This is a
world of ups and downs, and I feel I want a helpmate.... I
have often thought of your advice to me as a very young man,
before I took the Queen's shilling: "Never to think of
taking a wife until I could support one comfortably." I can
now see my way clear before me, although it's not all gold
that glitters. Mine has been love at first sight--our
courtship has been short--so we will tie the knot first, and
court afterwards. But I must bring this to a close. You may
inform Miss H---- that she has played with the mouse until
she has lost it. Please tend my kind regards to all old
friends,
And believe me,
My Dear Parents,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
Drill-Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.
Meean-Meer, (Punjaub),
10th November, 1858.
My Dear, Dear Parents,
Once more a line in health, trusting this will find you the
same. This is a changeable world we live in. It will not, I
expect, be news to you to inform you that one of the
strongest Companies this world has ever seen--that started
with but small prospects of success, but gradually rose to
be Rulers of a vast population and a mighty empire, much
larger than the whole of Europe in area and population--has
passed away. The great East India Company is now a thing of
the past, and we are no longer under their control. By
proclamation, Her Most Gracious Majesty, Queen Victoria, is
now the supreme Ruler of India. There has been a lot of pomp
and show all through the country. The Natives seem to be
delighted at the change. They appear to have confidence that
they will have justice under the "Buna Ranee."[25] One
portion of the proclamation must have its effect upon the
poor deluded wretches that are still holding out under the
Napaul Hills and Central India. The Royal clemency is
extended to all offenders, except those who have been guilty
of murdering poor defenceless women and children. In
accordance with the laws of God and civilized nations,
justice demands their lives--"a murderer shall die." The
Natives cannot understand how it is possible that we can
forgive men that have rebelled against and fought us, time
after time. Their wonder is that when we were but few, we
destroyed all that came in our way, and now that the whole
country is bristling with British bayonets, and the enemy at
our feet, we forgive. This is a little beyond their
comprehension. The Mohammedans, they say, would not do that.
They do not understand mercy to a fallen foe. Hundreds of
thousands of them have yet to learn that, as Christians, we
are taught to be merciful to our enemies. I find by the
papers that hundreds, yea, thousands of these poor deluded
wretches are coming to the various camps and stations and
laying their arms at our feet. We may rejoice that this
terrible war is now nearly over. As a soldier, I think I
have already had enough of war to know the value of peace,
and I have no desire to show a bellicose spirit. The man
that's fond of war is a lunatic. I know well that at times
it is a necessary evil, and duty--stern duty--must be
performed. A statesman who hurls his country into war
without straining every nerve to avert it, is, to say the
least of it, an unwise man, so we hail Her Majesty's
proclamation with joy. It will be the means of saving
thousands of precious lives. I find that in one province
alone (Oude) 350,000 arms of various kinds have been given
up already; the Mutineers have been pardoned and have gone
to their homes. As far as I can see by the papers from home,
they have put a lot of colouring upon the state of things
out here, and made them appear to the public much worse than
they really are; that's needless, but truth will stand
sifting. An honest account will go best when plainly told.
I could fill sheet after sheet with what, out here, is
called bazaar talk, but only about two per cent. of it is
reliable, and sometimes not that; but it often finds its way
into the country papers, and home papers copy, and most of
it is swallowed as gospel. It's now getting very pleasant
mornings and evenings. I still keep on with my drilling, and
am happy to inform you I have got another step up the ladder
of promotion--colour-sergeant and pay-sergeant of a company.
It gives me a lot of extra work; but I do not mind that at
all, so long as I can give satisfaction to my commanders. It
gives me near two shillings per diem more. I wanted to
resign my drill-sergeantship, but the Colonel would not
listen to me; so I am often at work with my pen when others
are enjoying themselves, or asleep. I have much pleasure in
forwarding you a small draft to get you a little
nourishment. Please to accept it in the same spirit in which
it is sent; and if you do not require it, bank it against a
rainy day. I must now bring this to a close, and believe me,
My dear Parents,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
Colour-Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.
Rawul Pindee,
28th July, 1859.
My Dear, Dear Parents,
Once more a line in health. This is one of the most lovely,
yea, delightful places I have ever clapped eyes upon. The
climate is quite refreshing when compared with the burning
plains of Meean-Meer. We are just at the foot of what are
called the Murry Hills, or Himalaya Mountains. They rise
majestically all along our front, and we get a beautiful
refreshing breeze morning and evening. I should not mind
completing my time here. I am afraid it is too good to last
long. Well, in reference to our march from Meean-Meer. We
started on the morning of the 5th April. Nothing particular
to note until we came to Wozerabad, the Birmingham of India.
As far as I can see, a Native will do anything with a
pattern. I was astonished, on going through their bazaars,
to see the number of arms for sale. I bought a large dagger,
and a knife with all sorts of blades in it. I find our
Government have bought up the greater portion of the
fire-arms. They are a most war-like race of people about
this part of the country, but their teeth have been drawn.
They are on our side, and so long as they can see that we
are still the conquering race, they will go with us against
all comers. On arriving at the Jelumn, we found it a
rushing, mighty torrent, very wide. We crossed it on a
bridge of boats on the northern bank. We found a very pretty
station, but empty until our arrival. Our other wing
rejoined us here. The Head-quarters remained at Jelumn, and
five companies were ordered on here. I was appointed Acting
Sergeant-Major of the wing. After the first day's march we
bade good-bye to all roads and bridges. We struck into a
hilly country full of little streams; some about 30, others
near 200 yards wide. We had to land on the other side the
best way we could--many of them very dangerous places to get
over in the dark--with a line of Natives with torches to
mark the fords. We had as many as sixteen of these nice
places to go through, in as many miles. We found the Natives
all the way up country remarkably civil; they knew well it
would not do to be otherwise. Although the Mutiny is now
nearly all over, the country is still under martial law, and
our Government are determined to stamp rebellion out with a
strong hand, well rewarding all those that remain faithful.
The Sikhs, Afridis, Ghoorkas, and Beloochees have stood by
us well; and they will now reap their reward in the shape of
good pensions.
Some of them have had little or nothing to do, but they have
completed their portion of the contract with our Government.
Sir John Laurence may well be called the saviour of India,
for he _is_ the man that saved India. Yes, it was a daring
master-stroke on his part. He had spent all his life out
here. No man breathing knew the Native character better than
Sir John. When the mutiny broke out, Sir John was Governor
of the Punjaub. It had only been conquered eight years.
Thousands of Sikhs all over the Punjaub, then as now,
carried the wounds received from the dreaded Feringhees. But
Sir John, knowing that we were playing for heavy stakes, at
once called upon the chiefs of the Sikhs to rally round the
British standard. He requested them to furnish him with
100,000 men; they did so, and arms were at once put into
their hands. In the name of our Government, Sir John
promised them, if they would serve our Government faithfully
for two years, or until the revolt was crushed, a pension
for life, according to rank; while for all those who fell in
action, or died of wounds or disease, their nearest
relatives should reap the reward. All animosity was thrown
on one side, the temptation of the sacking of Delhi and
other towns that had revolted being ever before their eyes.
Now that it is all over, our Government are faithfully
discharging Sir John's promise, and thousands of these
stalwart men are returning to their native towns and
villages--all loud in their praises of the Big Lord Sahib,
as they call our Government. In many cases their sons are
off, only too happy to take their fathers' places. I find
that all Natives are now enlisted to serve us in any part of
the world we may require their services. There are no better
men in the world than the Ghoorkas, Sikhs, Afridis, and
Beloochees. If we required 400,000 or 800,000, we could have
them in less than one month, and officer them by some of the
wildest boys of our much-beloved Isle. They will go
anywhere, particularly if they are mixed up with some of our
battalions. Should ever the Russians make an attempt on
India, they will find a handful. As far as I can find out,
the Mutiny was not brought about by anything that has as yet
been laid before the public. There has been a system of
bribery all through the service, and the whole scheme of the
East India Company was rotten to the core. Such a system of
bribery from the highest, one would think, had been handed
down from Clive and Hastings. As far as I can see, all the
Native of India wants is justice; and under their old
masters, the much-lauded East India Company, they had a lot
of law. But justice was scantily eked out, unless the
unfortunate client could stump up well that which makes the
world go smooth, and covers a multitude of sins. From such
cases as the following, now beginning to leak out, you may
form some judgment of the laws of the East India Company,
there being one law for the Native and another for the Lord
Sahib, both of whom, remember, being under our
much-respected flag of liberty. A European, in chastising
one of his servants, killed him. Of course his counsellor
(that is, if it was brought to light at all) would represent
to the court in most eloquent language that his client had
been grossly insulted; or if there was no other loop-hole to
escape from--his client, a most peace-loving, fatherly
Christian, in the heat of passion, knocked the deceased down
with his fist or stick, not thinking for one moment of doing
him an injury, but just to teach him better manners. But he
died, it must be acknowledged, from the treatment of this
peace-loving fatherly Christian. He gets off, or escapes the
law by a fine of from 500 to 1000 rupees--£50 or £100.
Now just note how justice was doled out to the Native, viz.,
if he is a poor man. His Sahib hit him, and he returns the
compliment, and being a powerful man, he gives his old
master a good pounding. Well, the Native is duly handed over
to the law, and if he gets off with ten years'
transportation, with heavy irons, he's a fortunate man. As
for the Native army rising, I am not at all astonished at
it. They have been treated worse than the brute beasts of
the field by those they had to look up to, or to whom,
according to military law, they were compelled to show
respect. The whole system of treatment to which they have
been subjected for years was tyrannical; and the Bengal
Army, to say the least of it, has been worried into
insubordination and, depending upon their strength, broke
out into open mutiny. The upshot of it has been the smashing
up of the strongest Company that has ever existed under the
old Jack or any other flag. Already we begin to find the
country gradually settling down, and I do not think we shall
have much more trouble with the mutineers. I find by the
papers our Government are determined to root out all
evil-doers, and all law-abiding subjects shall be protected
from the lawless and have justice; that the same laws that
govern the European shall in future guide, govern, and
protect the Native. And a strong Government has announced
that tyranny and bribery shall be stamped out with the
strong arm of the law; and that all, from the highest to the
lowest in India, shall enjoy liberty of conscience, shall
worship God according to the dictates of their hearts, at
their own shrines or places of worship, and none shall
interfere or make them afraid. This order or decree has been
translated into all the different languages spoken in India.
We already see the effect for good upon the Natives, and I
dare prophecy that it will bind the teeming millions in love
to our glorious old flag. We have a regiment of Mutineers
here, and they are permitted to go where they like about the
station. As far as I am concerned, I have a handful--as much
as I can get through, with the extra duty of Acting
Sergeant-Major, looking after the canteen, "not at all a
bad job" I can tell you, and then my Company's work. But I
must say I have some of the sweets, and say nothing about
the canteen. A good-tempered, pretty girl to call my own;
and, as far as I can see, change of air or new bread is
affecting her wonderfully; but all's well that ends well. I
must bring this note to a close; I have had two or three
goes at it. Trusting this will find you all enjoying the
best of blessings. My wife joins with me in love,
And believe me,
My dear Parents,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
C.S., A.S.M. Royal Fusiliers.
P.S.--Do not publish this, but keep it. I have hit out a
little too plainly; but facts are stubborn things, and
stronger than fiction.
T. G.
Peshawur, 25th November, 1859.
My Dear Parents,
Once more, a line or two in answer to your kind letter, just
to hand. As for the small amounts I have sent you from time
to time, do not mention it, but rather thank Him who is the
great disposer of all. I feel it a pleasure and a duty to
contribute a little of what this world mostly prizes towards
your comfort: and my fine bouncing rib encourages me. And
kindly tell me what a man will not do for a warm-hearted
pretty girl, with her arm around his neck, and her sweet
lips close to his: "O do send poor mother a little this
time; we can spare it." Please send your photos, with the
next letter, in cabinet size. We will send ours by the next
mail, as I find there is a good photographer in this
station. Our No. 1 is a whopper--a strong healthy child; I
hope he will make a man in the world some day. This is a
lovely looking station, but it has a cruel name for thieves
and murderers, fever and ague. It is much colder here than
in any place in which we have been. The Himalayas are on our
right, left, and front. We are all served out with an extra
warm coat, padded with wadding; and we require them nights
and mornings. Now for a little news about our march up here.
We marched out of Rawul Pindee on the 20th October with a
regiment of Native cavalry--a portion of Hodson's
Horse--that have fought so desperately for us all over the
country. I find they are fine-looking men, with a lot of go
in them. They have some wild spirits as officers to lead
them. We had likewise a regiment of Native Infantry, and a
battery of Horse Artillery with us. We escorted up here more
money than I ever saw in my life before. We had some 600
camels and a great number of elephants, carrying bags of
rupees, 1,000 in each bag.[26] A camel can carry four bags.
The elephants were used to carry tents and other heavy
baggage. It was all a job to load up the money; we had
thirty lacs to load and unload every morning. The string of
camels and elephants made a great show; for we had close
upon 300 of them with us. Then came all kinds of vehicles,
country carts, &c., many of the wheels of which were
octagonal, or any shape you like but round; some hundreds of
tattoos (small ponies), shaggy looking, but strong, most of
them belonging to the grass cutters, for the cavalry and
artillery. Then came all the rag-tail of the native bazaars,
native women riding on poor puny donkeys; these poor
creatures are not much larger than a good-sized Newfoundland
dog. Goats by wholesale: and as for monkeys and parrots,
these were perched upon the top of the baggage in swarms.
The whole of this medley goes swinging along beside the road
or track; as for dust, we were not short of that. We found
but few bridges all the way up, and as we came to the
streams, which were very numerous--some of them ugly places
to get over--we had to land on the other side the best way
we could; and a nice lot of beauties we looked, but as all
were alike, we could not laugh much at each other, except in
a few cases where the men had had a roll in the water, or
got into a hole of about seven or eight feet, and had to be
pulled out. I managed to pop into one of these nice holes
one morning, quite over my head; they pulled me out, and of
course, had a good laugh at me. But laughing is sometimes
catching. At some of the streams there were a number of
villagers who offered their services to carry anyone over
for about two annas--threepence. Then came the sport. Many
of these Natives were tripped up, and both Native and
European would have a roll or flounder for it; all would be
taken in good part. As for game of all kinds, they will
hardly get out of your way, and one with a fouling-piece can
soon have a good bag. There is a very strong force kept at
this place. It is close upon the borders of Afghanistan, and
our people are not going to be taken short with them; for
they are a treacherous lot and know no law, but might is
right with them. We found one of our sentinels this morning
lying dead at his post: his rifle and accoutrements were
gone, and he, poor fellow, had been stabbed in the heart. I
will be bound our fellows will pay them out for that
yet--it's only lent. We must keep a sharp look-out. I never
attempt to go out here at night without my loaded revolver.
I am happy to say we are both of us keeping our health well.
I think I told you in my last, a commission was offered me
in a Native regiment, but I declined it. I shall stop with
the old Fusiliers. Trusting this will find you all quite
well,
Believe me, as ever,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
C.S.R.F.
P.S.--Wife sends her love to all. Will drop a line next
mail.
T.G.
Peshawur, April 14th 1860.
My Dear Dear Parents,
Once more, a line in health from this sickly station. This
is, I think, about the worst place we have on all the plains
of India--they may well call it the Valley of Death. There
is a kind of fever here that brings the stoutest down to
the brink of the grave in a very short time. Thank God, I
have escaped it thus far. And again, unless we are well on
the alert, we do not know when we may get up and find our
throats cut, for no other crime than that we are "Feringhee
sowars"--English pigs. We are surrounded by the scum of the
earth--cringing cowards. They will not face our men, but as
far as I can see, they take delight in murdering with the
dagger, in the dark, any they can pounce upon; but a number
of them have already met a traitor's death. I find, by your
last, that you are mistaken about Santa Topee. He was not a
brother, or in any way related to that fiend of a Nana
Sahib, but his right-hand man. He was a black-hearted
monster of the deepest dye, but he has met a traitor's
death. Hanging was too good for him. To recount his
bloodthirsty deeds to poor defenceless women and children,
would make your blood run cold. If our laws would have
permitted it, he ought to have been tried by a judge and
jury of women, and I do not think he would have died in two
minutes, for he was a wholesale murderer.
As for that blood-thirsty monster, Nana Sahib, he has thus
far escaped the sword of justice. One million of money has
been offered for him, dead or alive, by our Government; and
as large as India is, if he is alive, he will have to keep
very quiet. But the general opinion is that his form no
longer disgraces this earth--that he has destroyed himself,
or was killed in some of the encounters with our troops on
the Nepaul frontier. He knew well that his doom was almost
instant death, had he fallen into our hands. The Afghans
have become wonderfully civil of late. They have found out
that the "Feringhee ray"--English reign--is not all over out
here, and that civility is much cheaper than shot, shell,
cold steel, or a rope. As for a Native army, we _must_ keep
up one, or send out at least 50,000 more men, to hold this
vast country. The old Bengal Native Army has been almost
destroyed. There are a few regiments that have remained
loyal, and the places of the others are filled up with
Punjaubees and Afridis--inhabitants of the lower range of
the Himalaya Mountains. One would almost pity some of the
old mutineers that escaped the ravages of war. We have a
number of them here. They tell us all sorts of tales as to
what brought about the Mutiny. But, so far as I can find
out, they were badly treated--buffeted and knocked about by
their officers--and it was no use complaining. The fact is
this, with at least thousands of them, it had been
prophesied that we should hold the country for one hundred
years, starting from Plassey (1757); that none could stand
against us; then we should have to bow to them and eat the
dust. But they have found the sons of Albion, side by side
the heroic boys of Ireland, bad hands at eating
humble-pie--that we are still the conquering race, and
determined to hold what has been handed down to us. I find
the country generally is settling down under the sceptre of
Her Most Gracious Majesty. All those that have been faithful
to us are now reaping their reward; and that will have a
wonderful effect upon the Native mind. All through those
dark, troublesome days, with treachery all around, there has
been a silver line running. Some have proved faithful until
death, although of the same creed and caste with the others;
and while in the midst of the ranks of these blood-thirsty
villains, have come out boldly, ranged themselves by our
side, and fought desparately for us. These men are now
reaping their reward. I have much pleasure in forwarding
herewith our photos. You will find a corner for them in the
album, I think. Hope you will like them. It's not a good one
of my better half, as her attention was upon the child. Must
bring this to a close,
And believe me,
My dear Parents,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
C.S.R.F.
P.S.--I enclose a letter from my rib; and from her long
stocking she has desired me to forward you a nice little
present of £----. This is the first from her, but if we are
spared it will not be the last.
T. G.
Peshawur, October 26th, 1860.
My Dear, Dear Parents,
I think I told you that Rawul Pindee was a perfect paradise
upon earth, contrasted with this infernal hole. For if ever
there was a hell upon earth, or a hell-doomed place, this is
the spot. We are infested with the scum of the
earth--thieves and murderers all around us. It's no use
trying to tame them or to take them prisoners; they will not
be taken alive if they can help it, and the only way to stop
their little game is to shoot them. There is nothing too hot
or too heavy for them to walk off with. They will creep on
hands and knees right into the men's barrack-rooms, and
steal their rifles and accoutrements, ammunition, etc. They
are in a state of nudity, greased all over, and armed with a
large dagger. Should anyone try to stop or take them, look
out for the dagger. We have already had several men killed
by them. I think I have encountered the enemies of our
country as often as most men of my age. It's far better to
have an open enemy to deal with, than such brutes as we are
infested with. They come around the barracks during the day,
under the pretence of selling all sorts of articles; at the
same time they are taking stock of what they will return for
at night, under a different garb. I think I told you before,
that there are no walls around the barracks out here--at
least, we have not met any yet. An order has been issued to
challenge and fire at once, if not answered; but that has
been found ineffectual--several men having lost their lives
simply by challenging them. So our men have reversed the
order,--fire first, then shout out, "Who comes there?" You
will say, "that is murder well out." Well, it has been
brought in day after day as justifiable homicide; for in
every case, that deadly weapon, the dagger, has been found
by the side of the would-be murderer. We have had nearly
twelve months' training with these gents, and the Fusiliers,
the 93rd Highlanders, the 98th and 19th Hussars or
"dumpypice," (as we have called them on account of their
diminutive stature), have pretty well thinned them out, one
would think. Mind this has been going on since we took
possession in 1849. The Afghans then were supposed to be our
allies, but in fighting the Sikhs, on the field of Goojerat
(21.1.1849), thousands of these nice allies were found in
the ranks of our enemies. The Sikh boundary on their
north-west was the river Attock, and as a punishment to the
Afghanistan Ruler, our people annexed to our dominion the
whole slice from the Attock to the mouth of the Khyber Pass,
Peshawur becoming our frontier station. Well, since then,
hundreds of them have been shot; but still they are as
daring as ever. It is not safe to lie down to sleep without
a loaded revolver under your head. In the summer-time, it is
so hot that the doors must be left open to admit air. One of
our sergeants caught a fellow very cleverly a short time
ago. He had a large hole dug in front of his door, put a
slab over it, had it well secured during the daytime, so
that it would not tilt, and at night set his trap. We often
laughed at his contrivance. He has a very natty little
housewife, and his front room always looked the picture of
comfort. He had his rifle and sword so placed, that anyone
coming up to the door, during the daytime, could see them.
He had not very long to wait before he got his reward, in
the shape of a wild-looking savage monster, armed with two
murderous-looking daggers. This hole or well was about ten
feet deep, with a sort of man-trap at the bottom. The
sergeant's quarters were not far from mine. I heard the row,
and of course I must go to see the fun. His batman or
servant is an Irishman. The first salute I heard was: "You
murdering villain, an' how the d--l did you git in thir?
Arrah! sergeant, dear, the d--l take me if it is not the
same identical blackguard that was selling Afghan cats here
yesterday!" We managed to get him out with ropes, but he
struck out left and right with his daggers, and before we
could disarm him, he got a tap on the head with the butt-end
of the rifle, and a taste of the bayonet he was looking
after (from the owner). This fellow was transported for
life. I have bought one of the daggers for 20 rupees. The
sergeant got 200 rupees from the Judge for his ingenious
trap, and I think he had the laugh at us. So you see we are
in the midst of a nice lot. The noted Khyber Pass is just in
front of us, about five miles from the barracks--and this is
where most of these gents hail from.
About a month ago, my master-cook came running to me early
one morning to report that the whole of the Company's
cooking utensils had been stolen during the night; and as
they are all made of copper, they are worth a trifle. It is
a pity they did not send a note to inform us where they had
taken them; so that we might have sent them something to
cook, if it was only coffee, for it's beginning to get cold
on the hills now. By the bye, we can see snow here all the
year round, although it's enough to roast one in the valley.
It is the unhealthiest place we have in all India. We have
now upwards of 200 men down with fever and ague. Last
summer, many of our men looked more dead than alive, and
were walking about for spite, to save funeral expenses. We
have just mustered number two. We shall call him Arthur
Henry, after his uncle. Mother and child are doing well. We
have had a slice of luck latterly, and I enclose you a
little present in the shape of an order for £----. Please to
accept it from your wild boy as a mark of love. Before I
close this, I must tell you the latest daring attempt at
robbery. An officer of the 98th had been robbed of all he
had in his room. He had suspicion that some of his native
servants were implicated in the robbery, and was determined,
if possible, to find it out. He accordingly furnished
afresh; and, next evening, allowed himself to be carried
home, apparently _drunk_. He was laid upon his bed, his
native servants attending to undress him. There he lay, to
all appearance helplessly drunk. As soon as he was by
himself he jumped up, took his revolver (loaded), and lay
down again. About twelve o'clock (midnight), a man crawled
into the room, and stood over him with a large dagger, ready
to plunge it into his heart had he moved, whilst others
cleared all out of the room, in the shape of arms, carpets,
&c. As soon as they had got all that they could carry, the
signal was given to the would-be murderer to follow. But no
sooner was he off his guard, than out came the revolver, and
the would-be assassin fell dead. Our cool, resolute officer
at once pounced on the others, killing one, and wounding two
others--one of them his own servant. But I must bring this
to a close. We expect to remove shortly from this "lovely
spot" to Nowshira--18 miles from here. They tell us that we
shall be jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire--so far
as thieves and sand-storms are concerned. This is the third
attempt I have had at this letter. Since writing the above,
I am sorry to have to inform you that I have been robbed of
every farthing I had in the house--both public and private
monies. They have made a clean sweep. But I do not believe
that it's a native of India that has robbed me; for in that
case all would have gone, including clothing, jewellery,
arms, &c.; whereas nothing but cash, and some rum I had
bottled for the christening, have been taken. It was done
whilst I was on a visit to my sick wife and child in
hospital. I was only away from home about an hour and
a-half--from 7 to 8.30 p.m. My servant was found drunk, and,
about 10 p.m., we found some rum in bottles, but no cash has
turned up. I cannot at present send what I had promised. I
have lost in all about £60 (600 rupees), including Company's
money. My captain is but a poor man. We were sergeants
together at Inkermann, and he shall not suffer by my
neglect; for in my absence I ought to have put one of our
police at my door, knowing there was so much money in my
box. Whoever has got it, it will not do them much good, and
I shall get over it in a few months. But I shall keep my
eyes open, and if possible, will bring the thief to justice.
We have plenty of "black ones" to look after. I shall
discharge my servant at once, and take that good-hearted
Irishman who saved my life at the Redan. He is a rough
diamond, I know; but as true as steel, and one that I have a
right to respect for his noble conduct to me, when death was
all around.
No more at present, must conclude, and believe me, as ever,
Your affectionate son,
T. GOWING,
C.S.R.F.
Meean-Meer, 26th May, 1862.
My Dear Parents,
In answer to your kind letter of 18th February, just to
hand, I am happy to inform you that we are quite well, and
doing well. The heat during the day is very trying at
present. As for the trifle we sent you last, do not mention
it. We both of us are only too happy to be able to
contribute a little towards your comfort in your declining
days. Send nothing in return but your photos, and as long as
it pleases God to give us health and strength, we will keep
on repeating the dose as you require it. At your time of
life, you want a little nourishment: and it is only a debt
of gratitude that I am discharging, and all _we_ ask (for
_we_ both pull together in the same boat) is for you to
accept it as a mark of love and gratefulness. It will, I
hope, help to bind up some of the wounds that the writer, as
a thoughtless boy, gave your poor hearts. It's an old saying
that a wild colt makes a good horse. I am thankful to say
that I have a partner that is worth her weight in diamonds,
and I must tell you we are going on very nicely. We have not
yet been married four years, and now we muster five little
ones. She has just made me a present of two--a boy and a
girl. My Captain told me a few days ago he thought I had an
eye to business; as I think I told you we get 5s. per month
out here, from Government, for every child until they are
sixteen years of age. I have the canteen here for my
detachment of three companies. They had to leave us here, as
the barracks at Ferozepore would not hold us. We are so
strong (near 1,600 bayonets). This detachment is near 500
strong. We are about two miles from the barracks we occupied
in 1858. I am heading them every toss. As far as I can see,
I prosper in everything I put my hand to. We have some very
rich officers, and as drill-sergeant and acting
sergeant-major, I have the training of all young officers. I
have a lot of trouble with them, and am often hard at work
when others are taking it easy. I often get handsome
presents from them. I have remarkably good health, and I do
not abuse it. We have been out here nearly five years, and I
do not know the taste of any drink stronger than tea or
coffee. My Colonel has very kindly offered me a commission,
but I felt almost compelled to decline it, looking at my
_little big_ family and a strong, healthy wife, not yet
twenty-five. I thanked the Colonel for his kindness; but on
account of my family, requested him to kindly allow me to
remain as I was. Had I been single, I would have jumped at
the Colonel's kind offer. But I am satisfied: as I have made
my bed, so I will lie on it. It is not all pleasure to be an
officer, with a smart coat and almost an empty pocket. I am
sorry to have to inform you that cholera has made its
appearance here. The Artillery and the 19th Regiment are
losing a number of men daily. Thus far, we have only had one
fatal case--a sergeant of my company, cut off in
three-and-a-half hours with it. Our Commander has left all
to me. I have got up all kinds of sports for the men,
mornings and evenings--anything but drink, to keep up their
spirits. Our General called upon me this morning for a copy
of the programme of the sports. He is not a teetotaller,
and enquired if I had plenty of rum on hand. He went with me
and inspected the canteen, ordering an extra tot of grog for
all hands at once, which they had. The men turned out as
fast as their legs could carry them when I sounded the grog
bugle, and cheered the General heartily. My wife has gone up
to the hills with our little ones, so I am at present a
grass widower. I am glad they are off the burning plains.
The climate up there is lovely. I hope to start shortly with
our eldest boy for the school at Kussoulie; but I shall not
leave until all danger is over as regards the cholera. I
find a lot of alteration in this place since 1858. The old
native huts or barracks have all been thrown down, and
beautifully laid-out gardens have taken their places. Yes,
it is true I was robbed a second time in Peshawur; but I did
not like to upset you by telling you. But since you have got
hold of it, I may as well tell you that the second time it
was a Khybereen. I lost upwards of 1,400 rupees--public and
private--my watch (a good English lever), and gold Albert;
my wife's gold watch and long chain, and a lot of other
trinkets and clothing belonging to myself, wife and
children. The fellow was traced to the mouth of the Khyber
Pass. The whole of the troops in garrison were on parade at
the time; so I think I have cause to remember that lovely
spot. Since then, I have made it a point not to keep much
money in the house; but I was not the only victim of our
regiment up there. They walked off with our Sergeant-Major's
large box; it took at least two to carry it. There were over
3,000 rupees in it, most of it public money. There was a man
on sentry close by at the time, but they managed to attract
his attention in another direction, and then walked or crept
in and slipped out at the back with it. Next morning it was
found broken up: the books and papers were left, but the
cash had gone. Now that I am writing upon the tricks of
these nice gents, I will give you a few more. The 93rd,
whilst on parade, had on one occasion nearly all their
medals stolen, and were never heard of more. The Artillery
had a small guard of three men and a corporal, on their
canteen: they walked off with all their carbines, swords,
and long boots, including the sentry's (for he was drunk),
and then had the cheek to try and take away a six-pounder
horse artillery gun; but they had to drop that. It turned
out that they were chased, and could not run with it. We had
a native policeman to watch our targets. One morning our
Instructor of Musketry found the poor fellow's head stuck
upon one of the targets; he had evidently stood in their
way. They said we should find them more daring at Nowshera,
and true enough, we did.
One of our pay-sergeants, on getting up one morning, found
two large stones, larger than his head, by the side of his
bed: his three arm-chests, with about twenty stand of arms
and accoutrements, gone. The chests were found about a mile
from the barracks, but empty. Just as our left wing were
leaving Nowshera, the camp being pitched ready for the men
to go into, but not occupied--it was almost square--a heavy
sand-storm came on during the night, and in the midst of the
storm, they walked off with one of the large tents, although
there were six sentries with loaded rifles all around the
camp. With reference to the sergeant, he was made a prisoner
for neglecting to chain his chests to the wall, according to
order. He was a good-hearted, witty fellow. He was brought
before our Colonel on a charge of neglect; the Colonel, who
knew well what an honourable, straightforward man he was,
said that he was astonished to see the prisoner before him
on such a charge. In defence, the old veteran said that he
generally slept with one eye at a time, but these fellows
had, he must acknowledge, caught him napping. The Colonel
let him go. But before I close this I must tell you that our
Government do not lose much by them for all that's stolen: a
heavy indemnity is laid on all the surrounding villages. As
one victim who never got a farthing back, I was only too
glad to get out of the Peshawur valley. There were only
about fifty men in the whole regiment that escaped the fever
and ague, and I am one of them. But I must bring this short
note to a close,
And believe me,
My dear Parents,
Ever your affectionate Son,
(Our united extra love for Mother),
T. GOWING,
C.S. and A.S.M.,
Royal Fusiliers.
P.S.--The following is too good to be kept back: at
Peshawur, one of our staff-officers had a beautiful charger,
a very valuable horse. Some of his friends told him he would
lose it some night. He laughed at them; he had three men
told off specially as a guard for his stables. One morning
last winter there were all sorts of rumours going about that
the General's horses had been stolen. It turned out that an
old man had set himself down to have a smoke with his
hubbybub;[27] two of the guard joined him, and the third at
last thought he would have a pull. Almost as quick as
thought, the three men became unconscious. The old man at
once gave the signal, when in came the men, stole this
beautiful horse, with three others, saddled them, and
mounting with all the guards' arms, and ammunition, were
away quickly. It was found that the guard had been dosed.
T. G.
Meean-Meer, 20th September, 1862.
My Dear, Dear Parents,
Once more a line, in the best of health, trusting this will
find you enjoying the same blessing. I told you in my last
that I felt lonely. I have given Corporal Woods a little of
my mind. What is the use of upsetting your minds for
nothing. It is true I got a touch of the cholera in June
last--the doctors only called it a touch--but if that's only
a touch, I pray that it may never touch me again. Another
wrote to my wife, informing her of it. She, poor thing, was
almost distracted: and the only thing that appeased her mind
was frequent telegrams informing her that I was alive and
had got over the worst of it. It gave me a good shaking, but
not being in the habit of drinking spirits, brandy cured me.
The doctors informed me that had I been a rum drinker, the
brandy would not have had the effect. I have no objection to
Wood writing to his friends; but, as I told him, he might
have waited to see the result before sending the news 15,000
miles away, almost amounting to one's death. Well, thank
God, I have got over it, but I have had another fight for
life since then. I think it will somewhat amuse you, so I
will tell you all. I have put Johnny into the school at
Kussoulie, in the Himalaya Mountains: it is about 350 miles
from here. We travelled by bullock cart (Government),
changing bullocks every ten miles, travelling night and day.
We found it very hot and sultry in July, but still we pushed
on. All went well until we came to the banks of the Sutlej,
a broad and rapid river which, owing to the melting of the
snow on the hills, had overflowed its banks. The point at
which we had to cross was over six miles wide, the current
running from ten to twelve miles per hour. I obtained a good
supply of food, lemonade, and other refreshments from the
81st, stationed in a large fort on the banks of the river.
Cart, bullocks, and all, were put into a large Government
boat, and off we started.
It was tedious work, crossing such a current. We had four
Natives to man the boat. As far as I could see, they
understood their business. I watched them for some time, and
then got into my cart to have a nap. I was informed we
should be four hours, at least, crossing. Whilst I was
asleep, Master Johnny amused himself by throwing all the
food we had overboard, to feed the fishes. On arriving
safely on _terra firma_ once more, I asked my generous son
to hand me a biscuit and a bottle of lemonade. I got the
latter, but Johnny said he could not see any biscuits in the
box. I told him to look again. The answer I got was: "I
cannot see any biscuits, dada." I was rather annoyed, but I
found the child was right. We had then about 140 miles to
go, without food, and no sign of habitation--a nice look
out. We travelled all that night, and until about 5 p.m.
next day. As I was walking behind the cart, I noticed the
child crying; I inquired what was the matter, when he, poor
boy, burst out the louder, saying he was hungry. I could not
stand that, so, mounting on the top of the cart, I espied a
native village about a mile from the road. We drew the cart
up under some trees, and telling the driver to take his
bullocks out, and stop there to take care of the child until
I returned, promising to reward him, I armed myself with a
brace of revolvers, loaded, took some empty bottles to hold
milk, and with a good strong stick, off I went across the
paddy fields, up to my ankles, and sometimes knees, in mud
and water, until I struck upon a good path. As I approached
the village a number of dogs came at me. I kept them at bay
with stones and my stick as long as I could--shooting the
most troublesome one, when the remainder were called off. On
turning a corner I came upon a number of native women
(almost in a state of nudity), milking cows--the very thing
I wanted. I walked up to them and saluted them with,
"Salam:" then mustering my best Hindustanee I told them that
I required milk. (Now, mind, don't you laugh). "Hum-dood,
Manta-hi"--that I would pay them for it. "Hum piea dada hi."
They all looked at me with contempt, exclaiming, yea,
screaming, "Jow thome Feringhee sour"--"Go away, you English
pig." I could not stand much of that; I tried once more to
make peace with them by telling them I was no thief, that I
wanted milk for my hungry child and myself, and that I would
pay them what they asked. The following is as near as I can
come at it: "Decco thunb hum loot wallah nay hi Hum-dood
Manta-hi, hommoea babba both bokha hi," and, to my
astonishment, they with one voice screamed out, and sent me
to the lower regions--a very hot place for an English
pig--"Jahanham jow tomb Feringhee sour." Flesh and blood
could not stand that: I was not to be done by a lot of
fanatic women. So I at once walked up to one of them, and
taking the vessel that she was milking into, drank heartily,
throwing down four annas (sixpence) for it. Hereupon they
all at once jumped up and ran into the village, shouting as
though I had killed or kissed some of them. They had not
been gone long when they returned with seven men, armed with
"lathies"--long sticks with lead let into the end, and
brass-headed nails all around from the top, extending about
two feet. The women were behind the men, shouting like mad,
pitiless creatures, for the men to "Maro, Maro, Ko
Feringhee"--"Kill, kill the Englishman." It was no use my
trying to run, but I must face the lot. Now for the "tug of
war." On they came: the first man rushed at me, delivering a
terrible blow at my head; being a fair swordsman, I warded
it off, and delivered the six-cut right across his face,
when down he went: he had had enough. Another came at me; I
warded off his blow, and delivered a point from the hip
right into his stomach, which doubled him up and made him
pull all sorts of wry faces, and down he went. Others rushed
at me. Only one hit me, but I warmed him for that, right and
left. In less time than it takes me to tell you, I had them
all rolling on the ground: they had each of them received
some heavy blows; it was life or death with me. When the
women found that the "English pig" was too many for them,
they, with one exception, ran back into the village,
screaming again. I at once broke all their sticks and threw
them into a pond close by, and by way of refreshment, took
another good drink of milk, and filled my bottles. I was
just about to walk off, when I noticed some men coming after
me, with a number of women and dogs, encouraging them to
kill me.
I knew well it would be no use me trying to get away, so I
made up my mind at once to die hard. My chief thought was
about my poor little boy. Rushing to a good-sized tree I
stood on the defensive, with my back to the tree, men,
women, and dogs pursuing. The first man who came at me was a
powerful-looking fellow, a sort of champion or bully. I
believe they thought he would be more than a match for me;
right manfully did he come at me, but I punished him so
severely about the head and legs, that he lay groaning on
the ground, rubbing his head and legs, whilst the blood
flowed freely from the side of his head. Others then came on
to the attack, but were met with terrible blows, right and
left. At last my stick broke: I dashed the pieces I had in
my hand into the face of the fellow nearest me. When the
women saw I had no stick, they commenced to shout again:
"Maro, Maro, Ko Feringhee." Now for life or death, I
thought. Out came the two revolvers. A brute of a dog that
had given me a lot of trouble got the first shot right
between his eyes, when down he went without a groan. I then
fired through one of their huge turbans. It had the desired
effect. I did not wish to take life, and told them so, but
if they did not let me alone I would kill the whole of them.
I then rolled over another dog, one of their pet dogs. This
last shot appeared to decide them. The women called their
husbands away, begging me, on bended knees, not to kill
them. A Native has an utter dread of a revolver. They say
that it is "jaddowed" (bewitched), and that it will fire as
often as you like. I still found the dogs very troublesome,
and had to shoot another. I made the villagers drop their
sticks or send them home, and then made peace with them. I
got all the milk I required, and "chupatties" (thin cakes of
unleavened bread). Two men went to the road with me,
carrying the milk and cakes. I told them I should report
them; they begged me not to do it, or they would be heavily
punished. I found the child crying bitterly for his dada.
The milk and cakes, however, soon put him right, and off we
went jogging along again. I found it exceedingly pleasant at
Kussoulie, up about 8,000 feet. We have a large depôt up
here, and the men look remarkably healthy. I took Master
Johnny straight to the school, situated on another hill, and
duly handing him over, left him for two days. My wife and
little ones were up here, so I spent two days very
pleasantly with them, and then went and bade the boy
good-bye. The school, so far as I could see, is kept very
clean, and the children are well cared for. I found him
making himself quite at home with the other children. I
think I shall send Master Arthur there as soon as I can: it
will do him the world of good to get off the burning plains.
If ever you see Johnny you will, perhaps, remember the
narrow squeak I had while taking him to school. It was the
determined front I showed that struck them with awe; they
could see I meant mischief. It will not do to stop to count
Indians, but go at them determined to conquer or die. I
expect to join headquarters at Ferozepore next month. This
is my third attempt at this letter. Please excuse all
imperfections.
And believe me,
My dear Parents, as ever,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
C.S., A.S.M.
Camp Nowshera, 24th March, 1864.
My ever Dear Parents,
Once more, a line from this troublesome part of Her
Majesty's dominions. You will have learnt from my wife's pen
that I have, thank God, escaped the ravages of war once more
without a scratch.
I did not like to write you when things looked so ugly. The
war cloud has passed. I have passed through it: and now I
will tell you a little. The Afghans, without any warning
(_i.e._, declaration of war--just as the Sikhs did in 1845)
invaded our territory, carrying death and destruction into
all our frontier villages. All that they could lay their
hands upon were destroyed, old and young, male and female,
rich and poor, and the cattle walked off with, for no other
crime than that they were British subjects. You may be sure
our Government would not stand that, so a small army was at
once sent against them, to punish them and to teach them
better manners. The Fusiliers were in camp at Meean-Meer,
awaiting the Governor-General. We, as a feather in our cap,
had been selected by the Commander-in-Chief, Sir H. Rose,
K.C.B., to escort his lordship all through India. Our women
and children were left behind, with all delicate men. Our
Colonel's lady accompanied us, and took Mrs. G. as her
lady's maid. We sent two companies from Ferozepore to escort
his lordship from Simla here, but his lordship took another
route. He died, and was buried in the hills. We expected
then to have returned to our station, Ferozepore, but,
instead of that, were ordered into the field. The small
force our Government (penny-wise and pound foolish) had sent
against the Afghans were overwhelmed. It is bad policy to
despise your enemies. Our little force could hardly hold
their own: in fact, were hemmed in on all sides by an
overwhelming, brave race of men--rather a humiliating
position for the conquering race. News in transit out here
(bad in particular) will lose nothing. Meean-Meer is near
600 miles from the seat of war, and the news was flying
through the Native bazaars that our army in Afghanistan had
been utterly destroyed. It was represented to be as bad as
the disaster in the Bolan Pass, in 1840--not a man had
escaped, and that the conquering Afghans were marching on
Rawul Pindee. We were ordered off at once, with a number of
other regiments, both horse, foot, artillery, Natives and
Europeans, and to force-march, we often covered thirty-two
miles in twenty-four hours; so it was no child's play, with
a heavy load of ammunition to carry in a climate like this
in the month of September. But, dear parents, the honour of
our glorious old flag was at stake, and it is then when the
true Briton comes out in his true colours. A brave man can
die but once, but a cowardly sneak all his life long: and I
do believe that Pat has a jealous eye for the honour of that
flag he loves so well. We were off to measure our strength
with the Afghans. All went swinging along as merry as
wedding bells. We had a lively time of it; singing faces
were in requisition. I feel I must give a sample of one song
we had; but you must not laugh. The man was called upon to
sing by our much-respected Colonel. He said he would sing if
the good lady would ride on out of the way. The Colonel
gave his lady a hint, and she galloped on ahead. We all
thought we were going to hear something nice. We were
requested not to laugh, but to come in in chorus. I hardly
need say this youth was from the Green Isle. The song:--
"I was at the Battle of the Nile,
All the while,
At the battle of the Nile,
I was there all the while."
(Chorus)--"At the battle of the Nile, boys,
I was there all the while;
All the while I was there,
At the battle of the Nile."
And so this youth kept it up, with about 1,200 men joining
in. The Natives all along the line of march had heard the
bad news: they must have thought we were a jolly lot. This
is just a sample of how we got over our long marches. I had
the honour, as acting sergeant-major, of leading. We had not
a man fall out the whole way. I had promised this youth my
go of rum when we got in, if he would sing a good song. As
soon as it was all over, our Colonel turned in his saddle
and called out, "You must not forget your promise,
Sergeant-Major." The man called out in good mellow Irish,
"By my soul, then, I shall not forgit it, Colonel dear."
Mind, I was in charge of the canteen, so he was likely to
have a good tot. Although it was heavy work to be marching
night and day, the excitement kept us well on the move, for
bad news kept coming in. As we approached Nowshera we began
to meet traces of hand-to-hand encounters--wounded officers
and men with sword cuts. The wounded informed us that the
enemy were very numerous, and as brave as lions, many of
them quite fanatics, despising death so long as they could
close with you. We had our old friends the 93rd Highlanders
with us. It is a splendid regiment, and I had not the
slightest doubt about the result. With the reinforcements
that were going up, one could see our Government meant to
make short work of the enemy. We turned off to the right at
Nowshera, and bid good-bye to all roads and bridges; but
nothing could stop our fellows. We had several regiments of
Ghoorkas with us, and we soon found that they had plenty of
fight in them. We had a lot of rough marching after we left
the plains of India; but still, on and on, up and up, we
went. Some of the hills took the singing out of us. In many
places we had nothing but a goat's path to get up, and could
only go one at a time, but still, on we went. We found our
people strongly entrenched, with the enemy nearly all around
them. The Swatties are a brave race of people, big,
raw-boned, stalwart men, and we found a number of the very
worst of the Mutineers mixed up with them. They had nothing
to look forward to but death. They knew well that if taken
they would be shot, and they fought with desperation. Some
of the encounters we had with the foe involved desperate
fighting, hand to hand, foot to foot, knee to knee--no
quarter asked or given; and but for the superior weapons,
with the heavy odds against us, it would have been uphill
work with us. Our artillery (and we had nearly eighty guns
with us) simply mowed the huge masses of the enemy down by
wholesale. We repeatedly found them as brave as lions; they
frequently stood to be mowed down, or came on to certain
destruction. Then they would get volley after volley of
musketry or be hurled or pitchforked from the field with the
bayonet. But to go into all the fights would be impossible.
We found the little Ghoorkas perfect devils in the fights,
but some of our crack Sikh regiments trembled before the
foe, while we and the Ghoorkas brought them up and made them
face the foe or us. They chose the enemy, and were nearly
annihilated. In one of the fights, our Ghoorkas, we found,
had killed all they met--both women and children lay all
around, dead. Our gallant old General, Sir J. Garveck,
K.C.B., would not stand that. As soon as the fight was over
and the enemy routed, we formed up and faced the Ghoorkas. A
strong force of artillery, with cavalry, were with us, the
71st, 93rd, and 101st. The General at once demanded the men
to be given up who had murdered the poor women and
children--or instant death. Resistance was out of the
question.
Fifteen men were given up by their comrades. They were tried
by court-martial, and five of them shot on the spot; the
others were transported for life. The General said he would
not command murderers: we were fighting a fair stand-up
fight against men. This stopped it. At last, after other
heavy fights, the enemy threw up the sponge, and begged for
mercy they were strangers to--for all who had fallen into
their hands, whether Europeans or Asiatics, had had to die.
Our chief demanded all the Mutineers to be given up. We
found they had got into an old mud fort, but in a very
strong position. The arms were given back to a portion of
the foe, and they were made to storm the fort and destroy
every man. Some five regiments of infantry and about
twenty-four guns went with them, with two regiments of
Native cavalry, to see the order carried out. Remember,
these men were all murderers from the Mutiny, so I think we
can say that we put the finishing touch upon the Mutineers,
as the Highlanders did on the Russians at the Alma. Well,
thank God, it is all over: we have struck terror into
thousands, yea, hundreds of thousands of lawless Afghans. As
soon as the last shot was fired and the enemy was at our
feet, I wrote the following short note (in blood, for we had
no ink) to my poor wife: "The fight all over; enemy beaten
at all points. I am, thank God, safe and sound.--T. G." We
marched into the plains of India 24th December last. We had
a very long march to finish off with. They said it was
thirty-four miles; but we had no mile-posts, and if measured
it would have been found a good forty and a wee bit. Now for
a bit of a spree before I close this long letter. It is a
bit of red tape trampled upon. On marching into Permula, at
the foot of the mountains, our Colonel sent for me,
inquiring as to whether the canteen had come in. I informed
him it had not, and from what I had heard, did not expect it
for some time to come. Our Colonel is a very feeling
man--just the sort that the Fusiliers would follow through
thick and thin. "Well, Sergeant-Major," said he, "something
must be done." As quick as thought I sat me down on the
stones, took a leaf out of my pocket-book, and made out (in
pencil) an urgent requisition on the commissariat for fifty
gallons proof rum. The Colonel read it and signed it at
once. I then called out for ten men of my own company to
follow me. I had been told to look alive; so off I started
with my men to the commissariat stores close by, armed with
the requisition. On inquiring for the conductor, I was
informed by a Native policeman that the Sahib was taking his
dinner and could not be disturbed. His tent being pointed
out to me, I went at once to it, and inquired through the
chick of the tent if the conductor was in. A voice from
within answered me in the affirmative. "And what the d--l do
you want?" and "Go to h--l out of this." I said I had just
completed one long march, quite enough for one day; and that
if he did not know what common civility was, I would teach
him. And then, without any more talk, I walked into his tent
and handed to him my requisition. After looking at it for
about a minute, he said, with all the authority of a lord
high admiral: "Sergeant, I shall not issue anything upon
that dirty bit of paper." I could hardly keep myself within
bounds. My knuckles began to itch, as the Yankees say. I
called him some nice name--not a gentleman. I found he was
closely related to that notable firm, Day & Martin. I gave
him to understand, in plain English, that if he did not give
me the rum, I should take it. He got into a violent temper,
rushed out of the tent, called or whistled up a large,
ugly-looking dog, and five or six Native policemen. I found
my gallant friend a perfect swell--patent leather shoes,
white ducks, black cloth vest, with red neck-tie, kid
gloves, white linen shirt, _and a black face_. And one would
think, by his conduct, that his heart was the same as his
face towards us. But I was not to be easily done. One of my
men came up and informed me that they had found the rum. I
again asked if I was to have the rum in accordance with the
requisition. Throwing the paper at me, he told me to go to
the d--l. I could stand no more of that, so I landed my
bunch of fives right between his eyes, and followed it up
with one, two, three more. His dog and the police came to
the rescue; but the dog was the only one that showed fight,
the police thinking discretion the better part of valour. I
then proceeded to take what I wanted--a barrel of proof rum.
I found our Colonel had got out of patience, and we met him
and the General coming to see what was keeping me. When I
explained all, and how that I had had to fight for it, the
Colonel and General laughed heartily. The Fusiliers were not
to be stopped quite so easily. Ha! ha! I was reported for
striking the conductor, but got over it with flying colours;
the General saying I ought to have given him a little more,
and that he hoped the lesson the conductor had had in the
art of self-defence would teach him to keep a civil tongue
with Britons.
So I think you will say the Afghans had not taken all the
fight out of me. But I am getting tired, and must bring this
to a close. We shall, all being well, be at, or close to our
station, Ferozepore, about the time this reaches you.
Please to accept the enclosed £--, as a further mark of love
from as both.
And believe us to remain
Your affectionate Son and Daughter,
T. and B. J. GOWING,
Royal Fusiliers.
P.S.--Mrs. G. is here with me, and we are as happy as the
day is long.
T. G.
Ferozepore, 28th September, 1864.
My Dear Parents,
Once more, a line from this dusty station, in the best of
health. We are coming close up to the end of a very hot
summer. I have had another trip up to the hills with Master
Arthur; it will do him the world of good. This is a very
pretty station. There are large gardens, beautifully laid
out. The River Sutlej is about one mile from barracks. There
is a large fort on the banks of it. We keep about 150 men in
it. Our men still look very brown from the last outing we
had. The Fusiliers got a lot of soft soap in general orders
for their conduct in the late Afghan campaign. We are to get
a medal, and I do not know how many bars, for it some day. I
must give in: there is a sand-storm coming up. The doctors
say they are very healthy; they may be, but they are very
unpleasant--enough to blind one. Well, it's all over; it
lasted about an hour: we are almost smothered with sand.
About a month ago, we had a flight of locusts; they played
"old Harry" with everything green about the place, stripped
every bush and tree. There must have been millions of them.
The whole heavens were black with them. Our men turned out
to kill or frighten them. The Natives caught as many as they
could. I have some of them in a bottle. I find the Natives
make curry of them. Well, we have plenty of fun here. Our
Colonel has given the men permission to keep horses, tats,
ponies, &c. It is very amusing to see our men out by
hundreds, practising to ride. They look very smart. Most of
them have flannel trousers, in all the colours of the
rainbow. I expect they will soon be calling us the 7th
Flying Horse, the 7th Dragoons, or the 7th Flannel-bellies.
It's enough to make a pig laugh, to see some of them trying
to hold on to the saddle, the mane, the tail, or anything
they can, belonging to or fastened to their quadrupeds. It
is as good a thing as they could have; it keeps their mind
employed and gives them good healthy exercise, and they all
look healthy and well. Please to accept the enclosed as a
further mark of love, and pass no compliments about it--this
is from my rib. Well, dear parents, I hope you will not
blame me for the step I have taken. I thought of coming
home. I know well you would have liked to have seen me and
mine; but you must remember my cap does not cover my head.
We muster six little ones; and I do believe there will be an
increase before this reaches you. Whether the number will be
brought up to eight, I do not know; and there is something
else about it--so long as I have my health and can keep
them comfortably, I do not care. Well, you will say, "What
have you done?" I have re-engaged to complete twenty-one
years. Had I come home, I should have thrown eleven years
away for nothing; and I think I have had ten years of it
pretty rough, so I made up my mind to go in for a pension.
You see, our house is getting rapidly filled; whether it is
the change of air, I must leave you to surmise. At all
events, the bargain was made in '58 for no grumbling, and we
pull along pretty well. If I find my old chum wrong-side
out, or her temper or monkey up, I just light my pipe and
walk over to our mess. In an hour I am back again, and the
storm is all over. The old Book is right: "A soft answer
turneth away wrath." I think we could claim the flitch of
bacon: we are near six years married, and have not had one
cross word. You ask me about the price of food, clothing,
&c. Well, good flour is 3d. per stone. I will give you the
prices in English money, you will understand me better.
Potatoes almost for nothing, 1d. per stone; eggs (large)
sixty for 1s.; fowl (large) fit for the table, 4d.; beef,
1-1/2d. per pound (prime); mutton, 2d. per pound (prime);
rabbits, in the season, 2d. each; all kinds of fresh fish
for a song; fresh pork, 3d. per pound. Anything from home is
very dear, such as Cheshire cheese, 3s. 6d. per pound; hams,
from 2s. 6d. to 4s. per pound, and they will not cut them.
The cheeses are in tins of from four to twelve pounds. Beer,
for the non-commissioned officers and privates, 6d. per
quart; but if an officer requires ale, he must drink Bass's
or Allsopp's, at 2s. 6d. per bottle. Brandy, from 8s. to
12s. per bottle; gin, whisky, port and sherry, from 6s. to
10s. per bottle. Clothing for ladies and children is very
dear, more than double the price at home, so I hope that you
will attend to the order my rib sent you: Snowdon, or
Chamberlain's people would only be too happy to comply; get
a sample of what they will send. Again, as regards drink.
Country drink is very cheap. They call it Darro; it is as
strong as our brandy, and is sold in the bazaars at 2d. per
bottle. This is the stuff that kills our men. After drinking
it for a time, they become quite stupid, and go off like the
snuff of a candle, or are sent home invalided, fit for
nothing. I have never tasted it yet, and will not, whilst I
am in my right mind. I am sorry to have to inform you that
cholera, in its worst form, has broken out, and is raging in
Cawnpore, Lucknow, Allahabad, Delhi, and Umballa. I hope it
will keep from us; we have been very fortunate since '62. I
will send the photos next mail. My kind regards to all old
friends,
And believe me, as ever,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING, C.S. and A.S.M.,
Royal Fusiliers.
P.S.--Wife will drop a line next mail. Keep up your spirits,
mother. All is well that ends well.
T. G.
P.S. 2.--Before I send this off, I feel that I must give you
a little _tit-bit, a relic of the Mutiny_. Just after I had
laid my pen down, a respectable looking Native came to my
door and handed to me a paper to read (he did not speak). I
read the document. It stated that he had been a Sepoy, an
unfortunate man; that he had through bad advice, thrown in
his lot against us, and fought us at Lucknow: that he was
wounded there in a remarkable way by a musket ball: that the
shot went in at his mouth, carried away his tongue, and
passed out at the back of his head; and that, if you wished,
he would take a plug out, open his mouth, and you could see
right through his head. I looked at the man, and said
"coolo" (open). He did so, and, true enough, I could see
right through. I gave the fellow a rupee. His petition
further stated that the man had belonged to a regiment that
had not hurt their officers, women, or children; but went
over to the enemy and fought for heavy stakes and lost all.
T. G.
Saugor (Central India), 25th September, 1869.
My Dear Father and Mother,--
This is a world of troubles and sorrows; my heart is almost
too full to say much. Since my last from this place, it has
pleased an All-wise God and Father again to lay the hand of
death upon our once happy circle. I told you in my last that
cholera, in its worst type, had broken out among us and the
Artillery, and that we were burying the poor fellows without
coffins--sewed up in blankets, twenty and twenty-five a-day.
As you know, this is not my first experience of that fearful
scourge. But, dear parents, the heavy blow that I have
received is enough to give one a stroke of apoplexy. My poor
heart is near bursting with grief. The stroke has been so
sudden that I can hardly realise it. But it is the stroke of
One who is "Too wise to err; too good to be unkind." So we,
poor short-sighted mortals, must bow to His all-wise decree.
Six of my dear children have been called away to the bright
realms above, all in a few hours. On the morning of the 15th
inst., they were all well. Eight dear little ones, wife, and
self sat down to breakfast, all hearty and well. Before the
breakfast was over, little Freddy complained of a pain in
his body. I took him on my knee, but that did not cure him.
One of our doctors was passing at the time; I called him in.
He ordered the child off to the cholera hospital at once.
Mother went with him. But, dear parents, I cannot dwell upon
it. Before four o'clock, six of my fine boys and girls had
passed away into the arms of Him who does all things well.
We shall never hear their sweet prattling tongues any more:
all is silent in the tomb. Before six o'clock p.m. on the
15th, they were all laid in one common grave, wrapped in
sheets, without coffins. Three of them the same morning,
about five o'clock, were singing the following hymn in
bed:--
"I'll praise my Maker with my breath;
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers:
My days of praise shall ne'er be past
While life and thought and being last,
Or immortality endures."
Their mother and myself stood at their bedroom door,
listening to their sweet voices. We little thought that
they would so soon be numbered with the clods of the valley.
But further, I am sorry to have to inform you that my poor
dear wife was pronounced dead by one of our doctors, and
carried to the dead-house, or mortuary, about 2.30 p.m. on
that fatal 15th. Thank God, however, life was found in her:
she was carried back to hospital, and is still alive. She,
poor thing, does not yet know how she has been bereaved; the
doctors having given strict orders that she must not know it
for some time to come. I am thankful to say that she is
rapidly improving. But I sometimes feel that I cannot live:
all, all are gone that we loved so well. Out of our heavy
family we have lost eight dear little ones, snatched from us
in this, to all appearance, _paradise (?)_ on earth. A dear
old friend said to me this morning, when I told him the
blows were more than I could bear; "My boy, your partner is
left to you; it might have been worse." Then, grasping my
hand, he said, "Look to your father's God for strength, look
to the strong for strength." My dear parents, I feel it is
there I _must_ look. My officers, from the Colonel
downwards, are very kind to me. The Colonel and his lady
called this morning to sympathise with me in my sore trials.
I cannot say more at present. Will write again in a short
time if I am spared. Good-bye, and may God bless you all.
And believe me as ever,
In health or in wealth,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING, Sergeant-Major,
Royal Fusiliers.
P.S.--Please to accept the enclosed; use it if you require
it, or put it in the bank.
T. G.
Saugor (Central India), 20th October, 1869.
My Dear Parents,
Once more, a line in health, in accordance with promise.
Thanks for your kind letters and Christian advice. I know
well that you are ripe for the Master, and that in a few
short years at most, we shall all be where time shall be no
more. But I am truly happy to learn that your health and
that of poor mother is still good. You must remember, dear
father, that you have passed the allotted time of man by ten
years, and mother by seven years. I know that you must be
drawing on for your diamond wedding, as you married much
younger than I did. I hope the Lord will spare you to
celebrate it, and me and mine with you to cheer you up. I am
exceedingly happy to inform you that my dear partner has
been spared to me; she, poor thing, has been terribly
shaken, and does not look the same woman. Our colonel's lady
kindly undertook, with other ladies, to break the sad news
of the loss of our dear children to her. She bore it with a
Christian fortitude beyond what I had expected; and thanked
God fervently that I had been spared to comfort her, and
that we had yet four left to us. I am bringing my boys from
the school. They will help to fill up the void, or empty
chairs, and cheer us up a little. But bad as our case was,
there was one in the regiment worse. A whole family, of
father, mother, and eight fine boys and girls, all in a few
days. The mother and children died on the 16th September,
and after they had been interred three days, the poor
distracted father bribed the Native in charge of the
cemetery, obtained a pick and a shovel, and digged down to
his poor wife to have a kiss. But it was a fatal kiss for
him, and in less than two short hours he was laid beside
those he loved so well. Our men have subscribed and put a
nice stone over him, with a suitable epitaph. I have put up
a monument over my dear little ones. I am happy to inform
you that cholera has now entirely left us. Some of our poor
fellows who got over it are nothing but wrecks of humanity,
and will all have to be invalided home. Now that it is all
over, I will tell you a little. My poor wife hardly ever
left the side of the poor women and children that were dying
of it, but stuck to them like a true Briton until she, poor
thing, caught the terrible malady from our little Freddy.
And, further, I never left the men, but did all that lay in
my power for them. I pitched the sergeant-major's coat on
one side, tucked up my shirt sleeves, and rubbed the poor
fellows as long as there was a chance of life. Poor Corporal
Woods died in my arms. I promised him that I would write to
his widowed mother in Norwich. I have his watch; he wished
me to send it to his mother. I will do so by this post. Go
and console the poor widow. Mind, this is the same man who
wrote home about me in 1862. The cholera lasted only
fourteen days with us, and in that short time we lost 149
men, 11 women, and 27 children, out of a total strength of
about 340. We have strong detachments out at Nowgong,
Putchmuny, and Jhansie. We had no parades nor drills. What
was to be done? Our doctor asked the colonel to leave me to
him. I found it all through as I have frequently found it
before--in Turkey, the Crimea, in Meean-Meer (in 1862), and
here--that it is almost impossible to keep the men's spirits
up. They get it into their heads that they are going to die,
and die they will. Others fought against it manfully. Some
said they would sooner face the foe, twenty to one; they
might have a chance to sell their lives dearly or to die
hard. But here there was an unseen enemy, with no chance to
combat it. Well, thank God, it is all over, and I am still
in the land of the living, whole and hearty.
My wife joins with me in love; she will drop you a line as
soon as she gets a little stronger. Please to accept the
enclosed from the old girl's long stocking, that has never
seen daylight for years, so far as I know.
And believe me as ever,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING, S.M., R.F.
Fort Allahabad, 15th July, 1872.
My Dear Mother,
In answer to your kind letter, just to hand, with the sad
news of the death of poor dear father. Truly, as you say, he
was beloved by all who knew him. I do believe his enemies
could be put into a very small room, whilst his friends were
numbered by tens of thousands. I know, mother dear, that
you will feel his loss more than tongue can tell; but do try
and console yourself with this fact that he is not lost, but
gone before; that he is now in the midst of that
blood-bought throng that no man can number; that he is now
with Him whose name he tried to extol for fifty-six years;
that he is now with untold millions singing, "Unto Him that
loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood, and
hath made us kings and priests unto God," thus helping to
swell the anthem of the skies,
"While heaven's resounding mansions ring
With shouts of sovereign grace."
We can mourn the loss of a good, loving earthly father. You,
dear mother, will miss his sweet counsel, his noble, loving,
manly heart. But we cannot mourn him as one whose work was
not done. He has gone to his grave full of years (nearly
83[28]). And you have another consolation, that he died at
his post, like a good soldier--faithful unto death. He tried
to live as he would wish to die, that he might be able to
sing in death--"Looking unto Jesus." What an end! He can now
shout, "Victory, victory through the blood of the Lamb."
There will be no sorrow there, no more pain, no more tears,
but one continual song of praise unto Him who has done all
things well. Again, remember, dear mother, in your
bereavement, what a family of us have gone before, leaving
behind them the record that they were on the Lord's side:
Grandfathers on both sides, grandmothers on both sides,
uncles on both sides, aunts on both sides, my eight little
ones; and now our beloved father has gone to tune his harp,
and to sing for ever of redeeming love. Do not fret, dear
mother; we shall meet again, and be able to sing when time
shall be no more. Keep up your spirits. Again, do not be
uneasy about money; we are not short of a few pounds, and as
long as I live you shall never want for anything that will
help to make the remainder of your days comfortable, so
please rest contented on that score. I enclose a draft on
Gurney's Bank, that will, I think, put all straight, set the
doctors smiling, and leave a good shot in the locker to make
all things comfortable. I should like to have some of poor
father's books; do not sell one. I should advise you to go
and live with Sarah; she could look after your comfort until
I return. If I am spared we will then take you, and do all
we can for your comfort. As for the furniture, sell it, but
do not let the broker rob you. Give it to the poor rather
than be imposed upon; and take the best of the things,
including the books, to S----h. My wife will write you next
mail. I want her to go home, take the children with her, and
look after you. But, no; she likes mother very much, but the
loadstone is at this end. Now, my dear mother, try and keep
your spirits up; looking to the Strong for strength and
guidance through this dark hour of trouble. Give my kind
regards to all kind friends.
And believe me, my dear Mother,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING, Sergeant-Major,
Allahabad Garrison.
Fort Allahabad, 5th April, 1876.
My Dear, Dear Mother,
In answer to yours, just to hand, I drop a line. This, I
hope, will be the last letter from the land of pestilence,
blacks, and bugs. I have had quite enough of it, and so has
my partner. I have found the last three or four summers very
oppressive. Remember, I have had eighteen summers on these
burning plains; quite enough, one would think, to get used
to the excessive heat, or to get acclimatized, as people
call it. But I begin to find that the climate is playing old
hack with me, and the sooner I have a change the better.
Although I have kept to my post throughout, I have continued
for many summers to send my best half up to the hills with
ladies, or at my own expense. Remember, dear mother, I have
served the State for upwards of twenty-two years. I have
more than completed my portion of the contract, and have
tried to do my duty on many a hard-fought field, both in the
Crimea and out here; and if spared a few months more, we
will see what the Government will give me. They must give me
the pension of my rank, viz., the large sum of 2s. 6d. per
diem. I see by the papers there is some talk of increasing
the rate of pensions for all ranks. I hope to be home some
time next month, all being well. The doctor's words have
come true about my poor wife--that she would never be the
same woman again after the attack of cholera. I almost long
to come home. It will be nearly nineteen years since I left
England; and what an eventful time of it I have had--death
all around me, from water, famine, pestilence, shot, shell,
grape, sword, musketry, and the assassin's dagger; yet I
have passed through it all. Truly I have much to be thankful
for. My life of forty-two years (to-day) has been, I must
acknowledge, watched over by an all-wise God, who can see
from the beginning to the end. Mother dear, that is nothing
more than I expected. Some of my letters out here have been
little newspapers. It is no new thing: there is a class of
people in this world that like to pry into other people's
business. I am sorry that you have lost some of my letters,
but do not let that trouble you. I thought they might come
in handy for some of my children, just to let them see a
little what their father had gone through. There are many
things that I have omitted in my diary; and again, I have
neglected it of late years.
And, dear mother, in order to have something nice when we
arrive, please to accept the enclosed cheque for £--. Will
drop a line from Bombay, if possible, and another as soon as
we land. And, as I have escaped thus far, I hope the same
powerful hand and watchful eye that has attended me and
mine, will guide us safe to the land of liberty; and then,
dear mother, we will sing--
Home, sweet home!
I love thee still.
I am only bringing home two of my children--Arthur and Amy.
Keep up your spirits, dear mother. We will meet again, all
being well. Till then,
Believe us as ever,
Your affectionate Son and Daughter,
T. & B. J. GOWING, S.M.,
Allahabad.
The following will, I hope, be of much interest to my
readers. They will be able to see at a glance the dates and
principal places at which our unfortunate countrywomen and
children were massacred; and the table shows moreover the
distances our men had to march from Bombay and Calcutta
respectively:--
+-----------+---------+--------------+---------------------------------+
| | Dists. | | |
| Names of | from | Dates of | Some of the Principal Events. |
| Places. +----+----+ Massacres. | |
| |BOM.|CAL.| | |
+-----------+----+----+--------------+---------------------------------+
|Agra +| 848| 839| |44th and 67th N. I. disarmed |
| | | | | and bundled out of fort, and |
| | | | | N. W. provinces placed under |
| | | | | martial-law, May 18th, 1857. |
|Allahabad +| 977| 948| June 5, 1857.|6th N. I. murdered all their |
| | | | | officers, but Colonel Neill |
| | | | | paid some of them off for it; |
| | | | | the remainder bolted. |
|Arrah |1108| 406| |A handful of Sikhs here defended |
| | | | | themselves successfully, |
| | | | | commanded by Mr. Boyle, C.E., |
| | | | | until relieved by the 5th |
| | | | | Fusiliers. |
|Barrackpore|1285| 16| |First shot fired by Mungul Pandy,|
| | | | | March 29th, 1857; 19th N.I. |
| | | | | disbanded, March 31st, 1857; |
| | | | | but the 34th were the |
| | | | | ringleaders. They were shortly |
| | | | | after, disbanded. The Native |
| | | | | officers of this unfortunate |
| | | | | regiment corrupted nearly the |
| | | | | whole of the Bengal Army. |
|Bareilly |1036| 910| May 31, 1857.|Murdered all they could lay their|
| | | | | hands upon, then marched off to|
| | | | | join their comrades at Delhi. |
|Benares +| 950| 428| June 4, 1857.|Colonel Neill with his Fusiliers |
| | | | | turned the tables upon then; |
| | | | | the 10th slipped into them |
| | | | | right gallantly, and they found|
| | | | | out very quickly that they were|
| | | | | playing a losing game. |
|Bithoor | 948| 712| June 1, 27; |It was at this place that the |
| | | | July 2, 16, | monster, Nana Sahib, had a |
| | | | 1857. | magnificent palace, which was |
| | | | | utterly destroyed by Havelock. |
|Cawnpore +| 939| 700| May 11, 1875.|It was at this place that some of|
| | | | | the foulest deeds that ever |
| | | | | disgraced this earth were |
| | | | | perpetrated. Relieved by |
| | | | | Havelock. |
|Delhi +| 880| 976| |Invested June 8th. Assaulted |
| | | | | September 14th. City finally |
| | | | | taken, September 20th, 1857, by|
| | | | | General Sir A. Wilson. |
|Dinapore |1114| 411| |Three fine regiments broke loose |
| | | | | here on the morning of the 25th|
| | | | | July, 1857, and quietly marched|
| | | | | away with their arms, although |
| | | | | our 10th, and two Companies of |
| | | | | the 37th were in the station. |
| | | | | We wanted a Neill here, then |
| | | | | not a man would have escaped. |
|Ferozepore+|1143|1181| |On the 13th of May some 3000 |
| | | | | would-be murderers were |
| | | | | confronted by our 61st, and |
| | | | | almost destroyed to a man. |
|Futteghur |1006| 703| June 7, 1857.|It was at this place that the |
| | | | | 10th and 41st N. I. pitched |
| | | | | into each other over the spoils|
| | | | | and then bolted. |
| Fyzabad |1040| 576| June 7, 1857.|The 22nd N. I. and 6th Oude |
| | | | | Irregular Infantry murdered |
| | | | | all they could lay their hands |
| | | | | upon, and then marched to |
| | | | | Delhi. |
| Gwalior +| 680| 772|June 14, 1857.|All that came in their way, |
| | | | | except women and children, were|
| | | | | murdered; they then marched |
| | | | | marched away. |
| Indore | 377|1030| July 1, 1857.|All were destroyed, male and |
| | | | | female, young and old, that |
| | | | | they could lay hold of. |
| Jhansie +| 602| 725| June 7, 1857.|All perished. The atrocious deeds|
| | | | | of the murderers were equal to |
| | | | | Cawnpore; and a woman, or a |
| | | | | fiend in form of a woman, was |
| | | | | at the head of it. |
| Kurrachee | 572|1360| |All Native troops disarmed, and |
| | | | | made to do duty with the |
| | | | | ramrod; but were soon |
| | | | | confronted with stern justice. |
| | | | | It was at this place that the |
| | | | | Fusiliers landed, the writer |
| | | | | being then (in 1857) a |
| | | | | sergeant. |
| Lahore |1192|1356| |All Natives disarmed by a part of|
| | | | | the 81st and two batteries of |
| | | | | Artillery, in a masterly style.|
| | | | | style. It was do or die. The |
| | | | | odds were about 12 to 1, but |
| | | | | our determination was too much |
| | | | | much for the arch-fiends. |
| Lucknow +| 923| 629| May 31, 1857.|Invested by an overwhelming |
| | | | | force, but gallantly held out |
| | | | | from the beginning of June |
| | | | | until relieved by Sir H. |
| | | | | Havelock, September 25th, 1857;|
| | | | | and then again until relieved |
| | | | | second time by Sir Colin |
| | | | | Campbell in November, 1857. |
| Meerut | 918|1008| May 10, 1857.|It was at this station that the |
| | | | | ball was fairly opened; but |
| | | | | through the incapacity of one |
| | | | | of one man we lost thousands, |
| | | | | for, had the 6th Carabineers, |
| | | | | 60th Rifles, and Artillery been|
| | | | | let loose, not a rebel would |
| | | | | have told the tale. |
| Mhow +| 360|1018| July 9, 1857.|Destroyed all that came in their |
| | | | | way, but stern justice quickly |
| | | | | followed. |
| Neemuch | 865| 850| June 3, 1857.|Destroyed all that came in their |
| | | | | way, then marched in a body to |
| | | | | Delhi. |
| Peshawur +|1525|1616| |All Native regiments disarmed, |
| | | | | and forty of the would-be |
| | | | | murderers blown from guns, June|
| | | | | 11th, 1857. |
| Sealkote +|1465|1391| July 9, 1857.|Here grim justice soon overtook |
| | | | | them. Colonel Nicholson, with |
| | | | | the 52nd destroyed them all, |
| | | | | all, except a score or two that|
| | | | | got the rope. |
| Umballah |1020|1108| |This station was safe. It was |
| | | | | held with an iron grasp by the |
| | | | | 9th Lancers, the 75th, 101st, |
| | | | | 101st, 102nd being close at |
| | | | | hand. |
| | | | |NOTE.--The fighting at some of |
| | | | | the stations, where a handful |
| | | | | confronted a host, was |
| | | | | desperate, but in every case |
| | | | | our men proved the victors. It |
| | | | | was a pity they were not let |
| | | | | let loose at Meerut; it would |
| | | | | have terrified the Gentlemen at|
| | | | | Delhi; the news would have been|
| | | | | all over Bengal in a few days, |
| | | | | and thousands of precious lives|
| | | | | might have been spared. |
| | | | |These nice gents were handled |
| | | | | very roughly at stations |
| | | | | marked.+ |
| | | | | N. I. Native Infantry |
| | | | | C. E. Civil Engineer. |
+-----------+----+----+--------------+---------------------------------+
CHAPTER IX.
List of Battles Fought by Land between 1704 and 1882,
showing date when each was Fought, the Number we Lost, the
supposed Number of the Enemy's Loss; the Regiments that
Fought them, and a few Remarks upon some of them--First
Action of the 15th Hussars--A Gallant Regiment of
Tailors--Singular Description of a Deserter, from _London
Gazette_, 1689--An Account of the Rise of the late Duke of
Wellington--Loss of each Regiment on the Field of
Waterloo--Some of the Duke's Letters about the Field of
Waterloo--Napoleon and the French Press--The British Amazon.
The following is a list of all the battles of importance that have been
fought on land by the British Army since 1704, with the Regiments that
fought them, the dates on which they were fought, and the number of
Officers, Non-Commissioned Officers, and men that fell dead or wounded
in each. The information contained in these tables cannot, I believe, be
found in any other work--I have been at no little trouble in collecting
it from various sources, and trust it will prove of more than passing
interest to the general as well as the military reader:--
+-----------+----------+---------+---------+---------------------------+
| | | | | |
| | | No. of | | |
| | |Officers | No. of | |
| Names of |Date when |Non-Coms.| Officers| |
| Battles or| fought. | and men |and men | Regiments that fought |
| Campaigns.| |who fell | of the | the Battles. |
| | | on our | Enemy | |
| | | side. | who fell| |
+-----------+----------+---------+---------+---------------------------+
| | | | | |
| Abyssinia | 9.4.1868 | 21 | 1,249 |3rd Dragoon Guards, 4th, |
| | | | | 26th, 33rd, 45th, and a |
| | | | | number of Native Infantry |
| | | | | Regiments from India. |
| | | | | |
|Afghanistan|1839-40-41| 3,457 | 10,670 |4th Hussars (Queen's), 16th|
| | | | | Lancers, 2nd, 13th, 17th, |
| | | | | and 101st, and a number of|
| | | | | Regiments from India. |
| | | | | (Native Infantry). |
| | | | | |
|Afghanistan| 1879-80 | 1,840 | 14,700 |6th Dragoon Guards, 8th, |
| | | | | 10th, 15th Hussars, 9th |
| | | | | Lancers, 5th, 7th, 8th, |
| | | | | 9th, 11th, 12th, 14th, |
| | | | | 15th, 17th, 18th, 25th, |
| | | | | 30th, 31st, 37th, 47th, |
| | | | | 49th, 51st, 53rd, 60th, |
| | | | | 63rd, 72nd, 92nd, Rifle |
| | | | | Brigade and a number of |
| | | | | our best Native Regiments,|
| | | | | both Horse and Foot, who |
| | | | |fought well. |
| | | | | |
| Albuera | 16.5.1811| 7,254 | 8,370 |3rd Dragoon Guards, 4th |
| | | | | Hussars, 3rd, 7th, 23rd, |
| | | | | 28th, 29th, 31st, 34th, |
| | | | | 39th, 48th, 57th, 60th, |
| | | | | and 66th, Portuguese and |
| | | | | Spaniards. It was at this |
| | | | | Battle that the 7th and |
| | | | | 23rd charged the whole |
| | | | | French Army off the field.|
| | | | | At the close of this |
| | | | | Battle our Artillery had |
| | | | | to gallop across the field|
| | | | | over wounded, both friend |
| | | | | and foe. |
| | | | | |
| Alma | 20.9.1854| 3,679 | 6,240 |4th, 8th, 11th, and 13th |
| | | | | Hussars, 17th Lancers, |
| | | | | Grenadier Guards, |
| | | | | Coldstream Guards, Scots |
| | | | | Fusilier Guards, 1st, 4th,|
| | | | | 7th, 19th, 20th, 21st, |
| | | | | 23rd, 28th, 30th, 33rd, |
| | | | | 38th, 41st, 42nd, 44th, |
| | | | | 47th, 49th, 50th, 55th, |
| | | | | 63rd, 68th, 77th, 79th, |
| | | | | 88th, 93rd, 93rd, 95th, |
| | | | | and Rifle Brigade (1st and|
| | | | | 2nd Battalions), and |
| | | | | 25,000 French. |
| | | | | |
| | | | | |
| Aliwal |28.1.1846 | 682 | 2,645 |16th Lancers, 31st, 50th, |
| | | | | 53rd, and a number of |
| | | | | Native Regiments, |
| | | | | principally Cavalry. At |
| | | | | this Battle our Cavalry |
| | | | | broke up the enemy's |
| | | | | squares, and routed them. |
| | | | | The 16th led the way, |
| | | | | commanded by Col. Smyth. |
| | | | | |
| Assaye |28.10.1803| 1,240 | 6,324 |19th Hussars, 74th, 78th, |
| | | | | and a number of Native |
| | | | | Infantry Regiments and |
| | | | | Cavalry. This is one of |
| | | | | Wellington's crushing |
| | | | | victories. |
| | | | | |
| Ava | | | | |
| Campaign | 1824-25 | 3,954 | 18,460 |1st, 13th, 38th, 41st, |
| | | | | 44th, 45th, 47th, 54th, |
| | | | | 87th, 89th, 102nd, and a |
| | | | | number of Regiments, both |
| | | | | Horse and Foot, from India|
| | | | | (Natives). |
| | | | | |
| Ashantee | 1874 | 524 | 3,870 |23rd, 42nd, and Rifle |
| Campaign | | | | Brigade, and West India |
| | | | | Regiments. |
| | | | | |
| Badajoz | 6.4.1812 | 5,750 | 3,240 |4th, 5th, 7th, 23rd, 27th, |
| | | | | 30th, 38th, 40th, 43rd, |
| | | | | 44th, 45th, 48th, 52nd, |
| | | | | 60th, 74th, 77th, 83rd, |
| | | | | 88th, old 95th, and a |
| | | | | number of Spaniards and |
| | | | | Portuguese. |
| | | | | |
| Balaclava |25.10.1854| 642 | 1,620 |4th and 5th Dragoon Guards,|
| | | | | 1st, 2nd, 4th, 6th, 8th, |
| | | | | 11th, and 13th Hussars, |
| | | | | 17th Lancers, 93rd Foot. |
| | | | | 1st and 4th Divisions |
| | | | | marched into the field, |
| | | | | but not engaged. |
| | | | | |
| Barrosa | 5.3.1811 | 1,210 | 2,640 |Grenadier Guards, |
| | | | | Coldstream Guards, Scots |
| | | | | Fusilier Guards, 28th, |
| | | | | 67th, *87th, old 95th, and|
| | | | | Spaniards. |
| | | | | *This Regiment charged a |
| | | | | whole French Division off |
| | | | | the field, and took an |
| | | | | eagle from them. The late |
| | | | | General Lord Gough |
| | | | | commanded the 87th. |
| | | | | |
| Bhurtpore | 1826 | 2,280 | 3,546 |11th Hussars, 16th Lancers,|
| Siege | | | | 14th, 59th, 101st, and a |
| | | | | good number of Native |
| | | | | Infantry Regiments, who |
| | | | | behaved splendidly. |
| | | | | |
|Bladensburg| 24.7.1814| 246 | 870 |4th, 21st, 44th, and 85th |
| | | | | Foot. |
| | | | | |
| Blenheim | 13.7.1704| 12,000 | 35,000 |1st, 3rd, 5th, 6th, 7th |
| | | | | Dragoon Guards, 2nd Scots |
| | | | | Greys, 5th Dragoons, |
| | | | | Grenadier Guards, 1st, |
| | | | | 3rd, 26th, 8th, 10th, |
| | | | | 15th, 16th, 18th, 21st, |
| | | | | 23rd, 24th, 37th, united |
| | | | | with Germans. |
| | | | | |
| Burgas | 1812 | 2,850 |not known|A defeat for us; lost |
| Siege | | | | nearly all our guns. |
| | | | | |
| Busaco | 27.9.1810| 1,396 | 5,325 |1st, 5th, 9th, 38th, 43rd, |
| | | | | 45th, 52nd, 74th, 83rd, |
| | | | | old 95th, Spaniards and |
| | | | | Portuguese. Our people |
| | | | | defended the Heights and |
| | | | | routed the enemy. |
| | | | | |
| Cabul | 1842 | 620 | 3,240 |3rd Hussars, 9th, 13th, |
| | | | | 31st, 40th, 41st, and |
| | | | | Native Infantry and |
| | | | | Cavalry Regiments. |
| | | | | |
|Cape of | 1851-2 | 1,342 | 3,894 |24th, 59th, 71st, 72nd, |
| Good Hope | | | | 83rd, 93rd, and Cape |
| | | | | Mounted Rifles. |
| | | | | |
|Chillian- |2.12.1848 | 2,746 | 3,890 |3rd Hussars, 9th Lancers, |
| wala| | | | 14th Light Dragoons, 24th |
| | | | | (this Regiment lost nearly|
| | | | | all its officers), 29th, |
| | | | | 61st, 101st, and a number |
| | | | | of Native Infantry |
| | | | | Regiments. This was a |
| | | | | close shave, we were |
| | | | | beaten, but the enemy did |
| | | | | not know it. |
| | | | | |
| China | 1841 | 1,004 | 5,325 |18th, 26th, 49th, 55th, |
| | | | | 98th, and a number of |
| | | | | Native Infantry Regiments |
| | | | | from India. |
| | | | | |
| Central | 1857-8 | 3,475 | 20,780 |8th and 14th Hussars, 12th |
| India | | | | and 17th Lancers, 71st, |
| | | | | 72nd, 80th, 83rd, 86th, |
| | | | | 88th, 95th, 108th, and |
| | | | | 109th, and a number of |
| | | | | Loyal Native Regiments. |
| | | | | |
| Ciudad |19.1.1812 | 2,292 | 1,742 |5th, 43rd, 45th, 52nd, |
| Rodrigo, | | | | 60th, 74th, 77th, 83rd, |
| Siege of | | | | 88th, old 95th, and a |
| | | | | number of Spaniards and |
| | | | | Portuguese. It was at this|
| | | | | place, at the foot of the |
| | | | | breach, that Sir T. Picton|
| | | | | called for one more cheer,|
| | | | | and in our people went. |
| | | | | |
| Corunna |16.1.1809 | 1,070 | 2,676 |Grenadier Guards, 1st, 2nd,|
| | | | | 4th, 5th, 6th, 9th, 14th, |
| | | | | 20th, 23rd, 26th, 28th, |
| | | | | 32nd, 36th, 38th, 42nd, |
| | | | | 43rd, 50th, 51st, 52nd, |
| | | | | 59th, 71st, 81st, 91st, |
| | | | | 92nd, old 95th, and a few |
| | | | | Spanish troops. Sir J. |
| | | | | Moore fell here. |
| | | | | |
| Delhi, | 1857 | 2,890 | 10,985 |9th Lancers, 6th |
| | | | | Carabiniers, 8th, 52nd, |
| | | | | 60th, 61st, 75th, 101st, |
| | | | | 104th, and a number of |
| | | | | Loyal Native Troops. |
| | | | | |
| Dettingen | 1743 | 2,460 | 6,000 |1st and 2nd Life Guards, |
| | | | | Royal Horse Guards, 1st |
| | | | | and 6th Dragoon Guards, |
| | | | | 2nd Scots Greys, 3rd, 4th,|
| | | | | 6th, 7th Dragoons, 1st |
| | | | | Hussars, Grenadier Guards,|
| | | | | Coldstream Guards, Scots |
| | | | | Fusilier Guards, 3rd, 8th,|
| | | | | 11th, 12th, 13th, 20th, |
| | | | | 21st, 23rd, 31st, 32nd, |
| | | | | 33rd, 37th, and Germans. |
| | | | | |
|Douro, the |12.5.1809 | 282 | 1,374 |14th Hussars, 3rd, 48th, |
|crossing of| | | | 66th, and some Portuguese |
| | | | | and Spaniards. |
| | | | | |
|Egmont-op- | 1806 | 472 | 1,472 |15th Hussars, 1st, 20th, |
| Zee| | | | 25th, 49th, 63rd, 79th, |
| | | | | 92nd, and German Legion. |
| | | | | |
| Egyptian | 1801 | 4,756 | 10,845 |11th Hussars, 12th Lancers,|
| Campaign | | | | Coldstream Guards, Scots |
| | | | | Fusilier Guards, 1st, 2nd,|
| | | | | 8th, 10th, 13th, 18th, |
| | | | | 20th, 23rd, 24th, 25th, |
| | | | | 26th, 27th, 28th, 30th, |
| | | | | 40th, 42nd, 44th, 50th, |
| | | | | 54th, 58th, 61st, 79th, |
| | | | | 80th, 86th, 88th, 89th, |
| | | | | 90th, 92nd, and German |
| | | | | Legion. |
| | | | | |
| Egypt | 1882 | 480 | 2,740 |1st and 2nd Life Guards, |
| | | | | Royal Horse Guards, 4th |
| | | | | and 7th Dragoon Guards, |
| | | | | 19th Hussars, Grenadier |
| | | | | Guards, Coldstream Guards,|
| | | | | Scots Fusilier Guards, |
| | | | | 18th, 32nd, 35th, 38th, |
| | | | | 42nd, 45th, 49th, 50th, |
| | | | | 53rd, 60th, 63rd, 65th, |
| | | | | 71st, 72nd, 79th, 89th, |
| | | | | 92nd, and Native Troops |
| | | | | from India. |
| | | | | |
| Emsdorf |16.7.1760 | 302 | 2,659 |15th Hussars. This was the |
| | | | | only British Regiment |
| | | | | engaged; they were one too|
| | | | | many for the French. |
| | | | | |
|Ferozeshah | 21 & 22} | 2,765 | 4,590 |3rd Hussars, 9th, 29th, |
| | 12.1845} | | | 31st, 50th, 62nd, 80th, |
| | | | | 101st, and a number of |
| | | | | Native Infantry Regiments.|
| | | | | |
| Fuentes |3&5.5.1811| 3,892 | 5,850 |14th Hussars, 16th Lancers,|
| d'Onore | | | | 24th, 42nd, 43rd, 45th, |
| | | | | 52nd, 60th, 71st, 76th, |
| | | | | 79th, 83rd, 86th, 88th, |
| | | | | 92nd, old 95th, and a |
| | | | | number of Spaniards and |
| | | | | Portuguese. |
| | | | | |
| Ghuznee | 1841 | 1,272 | 2,890 |4th Hussars, 16th Lancers, |
| Siege | | | | 2nd, 13th, 17th, 40th, |
| | | | | 41st, 101st, and Native |
| | | | | Troops. |
| | | | | |
| Gibraltar,| 1781 | 1,895 | 8,672 |12th, 39th, 56th, 58th, old|
| Defence | | | | 73rd, Royal Marines, and |
| | | | | some German Regiments. A |
| | | | | number of the Enemy's |
| | | | | Ships were sunk and all |
| | | | | were lost. |
| | | | | |
| Goojerat |21.1.1849 | 1,892 | 5,754 | 3rd and 14th Hussars, 9th |
| | | | | Lancers, 10th, 14th, 29th,|
| | | | | 32nd, 53rd, 60th, 61st, |
| | | | | 103rd, 104th, and a great |
| | | | | number of Native Troops. |
| | | | | |
|Guadaloupe,|17.3.1794 | 223 | 1,020 |15th, 63rd, 70th, 90th, and|
|Storming of| | | | 1st West India Regiment. |
| | | | | |
| Hindostan |1780-1808 |[E]6,898 |[E]25,670|8th Hussars, 17th, 36th, |
| | | | | 57th, 71st, 72nd, and |
| | | | | 76th. These Regiments did |
| | | | | good service in India, and|
| | | | | fought a number of small |
| | | | | engagements. |
| | | | | |
| India |1760-1857 |[E]18,490|[E]58,754|12th, 14th, 65th, 67th, |
| | | | | 69th, 75th, 84th, and |
| | | | | 86th. These Regiments have|
| | | | | seen more service in India|
| | | | | than any other Regiment in|
| | | | | our service, except the |
| | | | | late Company's Regiments. |
| | | | | |
| Inkermann |5.11.1854 | 3,434 | 19,058 |4th, 8th, 11th, and 13th |
| | | | | Hussars, 17th Lancers, |
| | | | | Grenadier Guards, |
| | | | | Coldstream Guards, Scots |
| | | | | Fusilier Guards, 1st, 4th,|
| | | | | 7th, 19th, 20th, 21st, |
| | | | | 23rd, 28th, 30th, 33rd, |
| | | | | 38th, 41st, 44th, 47th, |
| | | | | 49th, 50th, 55th, 57th, |
| | | | | 63rd, 68th, 77th, 88th, |
| | | | | 95th, 1st and 2nd Rifle |
| | | | | Brigade, and 6,000 French.|
| | | | | |
| Java | 4.7.1811 | 890 | 2,670 |14th, 59th, 69th, 78th, |
| | | | | 89th, and a number of |
| | | | | Native Regiments from |
| | | | | India. |
| | | | | |
| Louisburg | 1758 | 1,670 | 1,340 |1st, 15th, 17th, 28th, |
| Seige | | | | 35th, 40th, 45th, 47th, |
| | | | | 48th, 60th. |
| | | | | |
| Lucknow, | 1857 | 692 | 8,640 |32nd, and a part of the |
| Defense | | | | 84th, and a few Loyal |
| | | | | Natives, and |
| | | | | non-combatants, who were |
| | | | | determined to sell their |
| | | | | lives as dearly as |
| | | | | possible, and did so. |
| | | | | |
|*Lucknow, }| {1857* }| 5,680 | 26,754 |2nd Dragoon Guards, 7th |
|Havelock's}| {1858 }| | | Hussars, 9th Lancers, |
| & Sir C. }| | | | *5th, 8th, 10th, 20th, |
|Campbell's}| | | | 23rd, 34th,38th, 42nd, |
| reliefs | | | | 53rd, *64th,75th, *78th, |
| | | | | 79th, 82nd, 84th, *90th, |
| | | | | 93rd, 97th, 101st, 102nd, |
| | | | | Rifle Brigade, and some |
| | | | | 5,000 Loyal Natives, |
| | | | | including Ghoorkas. |
| | | | | |
| Maida | 4.7.1807 | 387 | 1,785 |20th, 27th, 35th, 58th, |
| | | | | 61st, 78th, 81st. This was|
| | | | | a Battle of bayonets, and |
| | | | | it proved to the boasting |
| | | | | French who were the best |
| | | | | hands at using them. |
| | | | | |
| Malplaquet|12.9.1709 | 11,500 | 30,000 |1st, 5th, 6th, 7th Dragoon |
| | | | | Guards, 2nd Scots Greys, |
| | | | | 5th Hussars, Grenadier |
| | | | | Guards, Coldstream Guards,|
| | | | | 1st, 3rd, 8th, 10th, |
| | | | | 13th, 15th, 16th, 18th, |
| | | | | 19th, 21st, 23rd, 24th, |
| | | | | 25th, 26th, combined with |
| | | | | Germans. |
| | | | | |
|Martinique,| 17.3.1794| 982 | 2,040 |7th, 8th, 13th, 15th, 23rd,|
|Storming of| | | | 25th, 60th, 63rd, 90th, |
| | | | | 1st Native Infantry |
| | | | | Regiments. Her Most |
| | | | | Gracious Majesty's father |
| | | | | led them, and was then |
| | | | | Colonel of the 7th |
| | | | | Fusiliers. |
| | | | | |
| Minden | 1.8.1759 | 2,482 | 5,340 |12th, 20th, 23rd, 25th, |
| | | | | 37th, 51st, and German |
| | | | | Legion. This was a |
| | | | | desperately contended |
| | | | | action. |
| | | | | |
| Moodkee |18.12.1845| 1,495 | 3,690 |3rd Hussars, 9th, 31st, |
| | | | | 50th, 80th, and a number |
| | | | | of Native Regiments, both |
| | | | | Horse and Foot. It was the|
| | | | | first action against the |
| | | | | Sikhs, and they fought |
| | | | | well. |
| | | | | |
| Mooltan | 1848 | 2,340 | 6,890 |10th, 32nd, 60th, 103rd, |
| Siege | | | | and a number of Native |
| | | | | Regiments. A large |
| | | | | magazine was blown up, and|
| | | | | destroyed a great number |
| | | | | of the enemy; the most |
| | | | | valuable diamond in Her |
| | | | | Majesty's Crown was taken |
| | | | | here. |
| | | | | |
| Niagara |25.7.1814 | 890 | 2,002 |1st, 6th, 8th, 41st, 82nd, |
| | | | | 89th, 100th, and Canadian |
| | | | | Rifles. |
| | | | | |
| | | | | |
| Nive |{9 to 13.}| 7,682 | 12,425 |16th Lancers, 1st, 3rd, |
| |{12.1813 }| | | 4th, 9th, 11th, 28th, |
| | | | | 31st, 32nd, 34th, 36th, |
| | | | | 38th, 39th, 42nd, 43rd, |
| | | | | 50th, 52nd, 57th. 59th, |
| | | | | 60th, 61st, 62nd, 66th, |
| | | | | 71st, 76th, 79th, 84th, |
| | | | | 85th, 91st, 92nd, old |
| | | | | 95th, and a number of |
| | | | | Spaniards and Portuguese. |
| | | | | |
|New Zealand|1875-76-77| 1,560 | 4,890 |12th, 14th, 18th, 40th, |
| | | | | 43rd, 50th, 57th, 58th, |
| | | | | 65th, 68th, 70th, 96th, |
| | | | | and 99th. |
| | | | | |
| Nivelle | 9.10.11 | 6,390 | 9,370 |2nd, 3rd, 5th, 6th, 11th, |
| | | | | 23rd, 24th, 27th, 28th, |
| | | | | 31st, 32nd, 34th, 36th, |
| | | | | 39th, 40th, 42nd, 43rd, |
| | | | | 45th, 48th, 51st, 52nd, |
| | | | | 53rd, 57th, 58th, 60th, |
| | | | | 61st, 66th, 68th, 74th, |
| | | | | 79th, 82nd, 85th, 87th, |
| | | | | 88th, 91st, old 95th, |
| | | | | three Battalions, with |
| | | | | some 30,000 Spaniards and |
| | | | | Portuguese. |
| | | | | |
| Orthes |27.2.1814 | 4,756 | 14,540 |14th Hussars, 5th, 6th, |
| | | | | 7th, 11th, 20th, 23rd, |
| | | | | 24th, 27th, 28th, 31st, |
| | | | | 32nd, 34th, 36th, 39th, |
| | | | | 40th, 42nd, 45th, 48th, |
| | | | | 50th, 51st, 52nd, 58th, |
| | | | | 60th, 61st, 66th, 68th, |
| | | | | 71st, 74th, 82nd, 83rd, |
| | | | | 87th, 88th, 91st, 92nd, |
| | | | | old 95th, and some 35,000 |
| | | | | Spaniards and Portuguese. |
| | | | | 10,000 prisoners were |
| | | | | taken, and Wellington said|
| | | | | if his cavalry had been |
| | | | | up, it would have been |
| | | | | another Vittoria. |
| | | | | |
| Oudenarde |11.7.1707 | 12,000 | 17,800 |1st, 3rd, 5th, 6th, 7th |
| | | | | Dragoon Guards, 2nd Scots |
| | | | | Greys, 5th Dragoons, |
| | | | | Grenadier Guards, |
| | | | | Coldstream Guards, 1st, |
| | | | | 3rd, 8th, 10th, 15th, |
| | | | | 16th, 18th, 21st, 23rd, |
| | | | | 24th, 26th, 37th, with |
| | | | | German Troops. |
| | | | | |
| Pegu |21.11.1852| 1,760 | 6,986 |18th, 51st, 80th, 101st, |
| | | | | 102nd, 104th, and a good |
| | | | | number of Native |
| | | | | Regiments, both Horse and |
| | | | | Foot. |
| | | | | |
| Persia | 1856 | 370 | 2,005 |14th Hussars, 64th, 78th, |
| | | | | 106th, and Native Troops |
| | | | | from India. |
| | | | | |
| Plassey |23.6.1757 | 220 | 2,900 |39th, 101st, 102nd, 103rd, |
| | | | | and a number of Native |
| | | | | Troops. This Victory was |
| | | | | the foundation of the |
| | | | | British dominions in |
| | | | | India, and consequently |
| | | | | one of the most remarkable|
| | | | | on record; the 39th have |
| | | | | on their colours _Primus |
| | | | | in Indis_. |
| | | | | |
| Peninsula | 1808 to | 14,960 | 26,540 |1st and 2nd Life Guards, |
| | 1814 | | | Royal Horse Guards, 3rd, |
| | | | | 4th, and 5th Dragoon |
| | | | | Guards, 1st, 3rd, 4th, |
| | | | | 7th, 9th, 10th, 11th, |
| | | | | 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, |
| | | | | 16th, 20th Hussars, |
| | | | | Grenadier Guards, |
| | | | | Coldstream Guards, Scots |
| | | | | Fusilier Guards, 1st, 2nd,|
| | | | | 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, |
| | | | | 9th, 10th, 11th, 20th, |
| | | | | 23rd, 24th, 27th, 28th, |
| | | | | 29th, 30th, 31st, 32nd, |
| | | | | 34th, 36th, 37th, 38th, |
| | | | | 39th, 40th, 42nd, 43rd, |
| | | | | 44th, 45th, 47th, 48th, |
| | | | | 50th, 51st, 52nd, 53rd, |
| | | | | 57th, 58th, 59th, 60th, |
| | | | | 61st, 62nd, 66th, 67th, |
| | | | | 68th, 71st, 74th, 76th, |
| | | | | 77th, 79th, 81st, 82nd, |
| | | | | 83rd, 84th, 87th, 88th, |
| | | | | 91st, 92nd, old 95th, Four|
| | | | | Battalions, German Legion,|
| | | | | Spaniards and Portuguese, |
| | | | | about 80,000. |
| | | | | |
| Punjab | 1848-9 |[F]4,790 |[F]12,985| 3rd and 14th Hussars, 9th |
| | | | | and 16th Lancers, 10th, |
| | | | | 24th, 29th, 32nd, 53rd, |
| | | | | 60th, 61st, 98th, 103rd, |
| | | | | 104th, and a great number |
| | | | | of Native Regiments. |
| | | | | |
| Pyrenees | 28.7 to | 11,450 | 18,998 |2nd, 3rd, 6th, 7th, 11th, |
| | 3.8.1813 | | | 20th, 23rd, 24th, 27th, |
| | | | | 28th, 31st, 32nd, 34th, |
| | | | | 36th, 39th, 40th, 42nd, |
| | | | | 45th, 48th, 50th, 51st, |
| | | | | 53rd, 57th, 58th, 60th, |
| | | | | 61st, 66th, 68th, 71st, |
| | | | | 74th, 79th, 82nd, 91st, |
| | | | | 92nd, some 30,000 |
| | | | | Spaniards and Portuguese. |
| | | | | This was mountain |
| | | | | fighting, ten Battles in |
| | | | | all. |
| | | | | |
| Quebec |12.8.1759 | 648 | 1,460 |15th, 28th, 35th, 43rd, |
| | | | | 47th, 48th, 58th, 60th, |
| | | | | and 78th. It was at this |
| | | | | Battle that the "Mad |
| | | | | General" (Wolfe) fell; |
| | | | | some of those about the |
| | | | | King wanted to make out |
| | | | | that he was mad, but the |
| | | | | King knew better. |
| | | | | |
| Ramillies |12.5.1706 | 5,700 | 13,600 |1st, 3rd, 5th, 6th, 7th |
| | | | | Dragoon Guards, 2nd Scots |
| | | | | Greys, 5th Hussars, |
| | | | | Grenadier Guards, 1st, |
| | | | | 3rd, 8th, 10th, 15th, |
| | | | | 16th, 18th, 21st, 23rd, |
| | | | | 24th, 26th, 28th, 29th, |
| | | | | 37th, with German Troops. |
| | | | | |
| Roliça |17.8.1808 | 675 | 1,492 |5th, 6th, 9th, 29th, 32nd, |
| | | | | 36th, 38th, 40th, 45th, |
| | | | | 60th, 71st, 82nd, 92nd, |
| | | | | old 95th, and a few |
| | | | | Spaniards. This was the |
| | | | | first action in the |
| | | | | Peninsula under |
| | | | | Wellington, and the French|
| | | | | got a good taste of what |
| | | | | they got plenty of |
| | | | | afterwards (cold steel). |
| | | | | |
|San | 1813 | 3,999 | 4,600 |1st, 4th, 9th, 38th, 47th, |
| Sebastian,| | | | 59th, Spaniards and |
| Siege of| | | | Portuguese. It was at this|
| | | | | place that our Artillery |
| | | | | swept the defenders from |
| | | | | the breach by firing just |
| | | | | over our men's heads, |
| | | | | which never was done |
| | | | | before or since. It was |
| | | | | at this place that the |
| | | | | late Lord Clyde led the |
| | | | | 9th or Norfolk Regiment; |
| | | | | they formed a portion of |
| | | | | the stormers. |
| | | | | |
| Salamanca |22.7.1812 | 6,240 | 12,570 |5th Dragoon Guards, 3rd, |
| | | | | 4th, 11th, 14th, and 16th |
| | | | | Hussars, 1st, 2nd, 4th, |
| | | | | 5th, 7th, 9th, 11th, 23rd,|
| | | | | 24th, 27th, 30th, 32nd, |
| | | | | 36th, 38th, 40th, 43rd, |
| | | | | 44th, 45th, 48th, 52nd, |
| | | | | 53rd, 58th, 60th, 61st, |
| | | | | 68th, 74th, 79th, 83rd, |
| | | | | 88th, old 95th (2nd |
| | | | | Battalion), 20,000 |
| | | | | Spaniards and Portuguese. |
| | | | | Wellington, in describing |
| | | | | this Battle, said that he |
| | | | | beat 40,000 French men in |
| | | | | forty minutes. |
| | | | | |
|Seringa- | 1799 | 2,460 | 10,750 |12th, 33rd, 73rd, 74th, |
| patam,| | | | 75th, 77th, 103rd, and a |
| Siege of| | | | number of Native Troops. |
| | | | | We took more booty from |
| | | | | this town than from any |
| | | | | fortress we ever took. |
| | | | | |
|Sebastopol,| 9.1854 | 26,625 | 95,600 |1st, 4th, 5th, and 6th |
| | 8.9.1855 | | | Dragoon Guards, 1st, 2nd, |
| | | | | 4th, and 6th Dragoons, |
| | | | | 4th, 8th, 10th, 11th, and |
| | | | | 13th Hussars, 12th and |
| | | | | 17th Lancers, Grenadier |
| | | | | Guards, Coldstream Guards,|
| | | | | Scots Fusilier Guards, |
| | | | | 1st, 3rd, 4th, 7th, 9th, |
| | | | | 13th, 14th, 17th, 18th, |
| | | | | 19th, 20th, 21st, 23rd, |
| | | | | 28th, 30th, 31st, 33rd, |
| | | | | 34th, 38th, 39th, 41st, |
| | | | | 42nd, 44th, 46th, 47th, |
| | | | | 48th, 49th, 50th, 55th, |
| | | | | 56th, 57th, 62nd, 63rd, |
| | | | | 68th, 71st, 72nd, 77th, |
| | | | | 79th, 82nd, 88th, 89th, |
| | | | | 90th, 93rd, 95th, 97th, |
| | | | | 1st and 2nd Battalions |
| | | | | Rifle Brigade, and 210,000|
| | | | | French, 40,000 Turks, and |
| | | | | 15,000 Sardinians. It cast|
| | | | | all other Sieges into the |
| | | | | shade; my readers may well|
| | | | | say what a slaughter! but |
| | | | | there is no getting at the|
| | | | | truth. I know that I am a |
| | | | | long way below the loss of|
| | | | | both Russians and French, |
| | | | | as they will not |
| | | | | acknowledge the truth. The|
| | | | | French loss at the town |
| | | | | alone was about 50,000. |
| | | | | |
| Sobraon |10.2.1846 | 1,842 | 8,880 |3rd Hussars, 9th and 16th |
| | | | | Lancers, 9th, 10th, 29th, |
| | | | | 31st, 50th, 53rd, 62nd, |
| | | | | 80th, 101st, and a good |
| | | | | number of Native Regiments|
| | | | | (Sepoys). Some four or |
| | | | | five thousand jumped into |
| | | | | the river Sutlej out of |
| | | | | the way of our men's |
| | | | | bayonets, and were |
| | | | | drowned; the river is wide|
| | | | | and the current rapid. |
| | | | | |
| Talavera | 27 & 28. | 5,586 | 8,210 |3rd Dragoon Guards, 4th, |
| | 7.1809 | | | 14th, and 16th Hussars, |
| | | | | Coldstream Guards, Scots |
| | | | | Fusilier Guards, 3rd, 7th,|
| | | | | 24th, 29th, 32nd, 40th, |
| | | | | 45th, 48th, 53rd, 60th, |
| | | | | 61st, 66th, 83rd, 87th, |
| | | | | 88th, and a number of |
| | | | | Spaniards, who ran away |
| | | | | without firing a shot, and|
| | | | | spread the news that we |
| | | | | were beaten. General |
| | | | | Crawford was coming up to |
| | | | | join Wellington with the |
| | | | | 43rd, 52nd, and old 95th, |
| | | | | when these cowards came |
| | | | | into his camp; they had |
| | | | | been running all night; |
| | | | | the 43rd, 52nd, and 95th, |
| | | | | had done twenty miles that|
| | | | | morning, but they at once |
| | | | | packed up and marched |
| | | | | forty more, without |
| | | | | stopping, until they |
| | | | | reached the Field of |
| | | | | Talavera; but the Battle |
| | | | | was won, and they at once |
| | | | | took up the duty of |
| | | | | outlying picquets to ease |
| | | | | their comrades that had |
| | | | | been fighting for two |
| | | | | days. It is the longest |
| | | | | march on record. The poor |
| | | | | wounded on this field |
| | | | | (or some hundreds of them)|
| | | | | were burnt to death, and |
| | | | | could not get out of the |
| | | | | way of the long, dry, |
| | | | | burning grass. |
| | | | | |
| Taku Forts| 1860 | 560 | 2,470 |1st Dragoon Guards, 1st, |
| | | | | 2nd, 3rd, 31st, 44th, |
| | | | | 67th, and a number of |
| | | | | Native Regiments from |
| | | | | India; all fought well. We|
| | | | | were Allies with the |
| | | | | French again here; some |
| | | | | 15,000 of our neighbours |
| | | | | were with us. |
| | | | | |
| Tel-el- | 1882 | 355 | 1,846 |1st and 2nd Life Guards, |
| Kebir| | | | Royal Horse Guards, 4th |
| | | | | and 7th Dragoon Guards, |
| | | | | 19th Hussars, Grenadier |
| | | | | Guards, Coldstream Guards,|
| | | | | Scots Fusilier Guards, |
| | | | | 18th, 32nd, 47th, 60th, |
| | | | | 65th, 71st, 72nd, 79th, |
| | | | | 87th, 92nd, and Native |
| | | | | Troops from India. |
| | | | | |
|[G]Toulouse|10.4.1814 | 4,750 | 5,260 |5th Dragoon Guards, 3rd and|
| | | | | 4th Hussars, 2nd, 5th, |
| | | | | 7th, 11th, 20th, 23rd, |
| | | | | 27th, 36th, 40th, 42nd, |
| | | | | 43rd, 45th, 48th, 52nd, |
| | | | | 53rd, 60th, 61st, 74th, |
| | | | | 79th, 83rd, 87th, 88th, |
| | | | | 91st, old 95th, and a good|
| | | | | round number of Spaniards |
| | | | | and Portuguese. |
| | | | | |
| Umbeyla | 9.1863 to| 1,640 | 5,000 |7th, 51st, 71st, 93rd, |
| |24.12.1863| | | 101st, some twenty Native |
| | | | | Regiments (horse and |
| | | | | foot). The enemy's loss |
| | | | | was never exactly known. |
| | | | | |
| Vimiera | 21.8.1808| 780 | 2,649 |2nd, 5th, 6th, 9th, 20th, |
| | | | | 29th, 32nd, 36th, 38th, |
| | | | | 2nd, 5th, 6th, 9th, 20th, |
| | | | | 29th, 32nd, 36th, 38th, |
| | | | | 40th, 43rd, 45th, 50th, |
| | | | | 52nd, 60th, 71st, 82nd, |
| | | | | 90th, old 95th, and some |
| | | | | Portuguese Regiments. |
| | | | | |
|[H]Vittoria| 21.6.1813| 7,790 | 13,650 |3rd and 5th Dragoon Guards,|
| | | | | 3rd, 4th, 14th, 15th, and |
| | | | | 16th Hussars, 1st, 2nd, |
| | | | | 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 9th, |
| | | | | 20th, 23rd, 24th, 27th, |
| | | | | 28th, 31st, 34th, 38th, |
| | | | | 39th, 40th, 43rd, 45th, |
| | | | | 47th, 48th, 50th, 51st, |
| | | | | 52nd, 53rd, 57th, 58th, |
| | | | | 59th, 60th, 66th, 68th, |
| | | | | 71st, 74th, 82nd, 83rd, |
| | | | | 87th, 88th, 92nd, old |
| | | | | 95th, and some 30,000 |
| | | | | Spaniards and Portuguese. |
| | | | | |
|[F]Waterloo|16, 17, & | 18,950 | 33,700 |1st and 2nd Life Guards, |
| | 18.6.1815| | | Royal Horse Guards, 1st, |
| | | | | 2nd, 6th, 7th, 10th, 11th,|
| | | | | 12th, 13th, and 16th |
| | | | | Hussars, Grenadier Guards,|
| | | | | Coldstream Guards, Scots |
| | | | | Fusilier Guards, 1st, 4th,|
| | | | | 14th, 23rd, 27th, Scots |
| | | | | Fusilier Guards, 1st, 4th,|
| | | | | 14th, 23rd, 27th, 28th, |
| | | | | 30th, 32nd, 33rd, 40th, |
| | | | | 42nd, 44th, 51st, 52nd, |
| | | | | 69th, 71st, 73rd, 79th, |
| | | | | 92nd, and old 95th, King's|
| | | | | German Legion, Dutch, and |
| | | | | [I]Belgian Troops. |
| | | | | For Notes, see next page. |
| | | | | |
+-----------+----------+---------+---------+---------------------------+
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| E: Fell in Minor Actions |
| |
| F: The French lost all their guns on the field, and it put the |
| finishing stroke upon Napoleon. The Sepoy General, as he used to |
| call Wellington, was one too many for him, and it was a good wind up |
| to a long war, upwards of 21 years. Waterloo is not the heaviest |
| battle on record, but it was a decisive one and brought peace to |
| Europe for nearly 40 years. It was nearly time that Napoleon was |
| taken down; he had been the cause of more bloodshed than any man |
| that ever disgraced this earth. Hanging was too good for him; as it |
| was, he was the cause of upwards of 5,000,000 of poor creatures |
| being launched into eternity, and then he was not satisfied. Had the |
| Germans got hold of him, the old Suffolk Regiment, the 12th, would |
| not have fired over his grave. For that was the Regiment that |
| carried him to his last abode in St. Helena, May, 1821. |
| |
| G: This was the last Battle in the Peninsular; all fought well. |
| Wellington had taught them, since Talavera, how to fight; all those |
| who bolted, after he took command, he shot, and the others might |
| take the hint, and fight it out. |
| |
| H: At this Battle 151 cannon were taken on the field, upwards of |
| £1,000,000 sterling was captured, King Joseph's coach and all his |
| state papers, and a number of very valuable documents being taken as |
| booty. It was reported to the Duke of Wellington that our people |
| were plundering the Treasure Chests, and his Grace said, "Let them |
| have it, they have earned it;" this is the only instance on record |
| where his Lordship winked at plundering. Our men were selling |
| Spanish silver by auction that night for gold. The French were |
| routed from the field, they never after recovered that blow during |
| the Campaign; they were off like a lot of frightened sheep, throwing |
| their arms away in order to avoid the devouring swords of our |
| cavalry. It was at this Battle that General Sir Thomas Picton went |
| into action with his night-cap on, and did not find it out until he |
| found both officers and men in the thick of the fight laughing at |
| him; and, reader, this noble old hero was not a man to be laughed |
| at. It was he, who, only a short time before, threatened to hang the |
| Commissary-General if he had not the supplies for the Divisions by a |
| certain time; the man whose duty it was to look after the needful, |
| reported Sir Thomas to Lord Wellington, and his Grace informed him |
| that Sir Thomas was a man of his word, and he, the Commissary, had |
| better look after himself, and not trouble him, as he had other fish |
| to fry. |
| |
| I: Some of the Belgian Troops behaved badly, and bolted. |
| |
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
------------------+-----------------------------------------------------
Names of Battles. |Regiments that fought the Battles, and a few Remarks.
------------------+-----------------------------------------------------
Abu-Klea |19th Hussars, Royal Sussex Regiment.
|
Africa, Sth. 46-47|7th Dragoon Guards, 26th, 27th, 91st, and Cape
| Mounted Rifles.
|
do. do. 51-2-3 |12th Lancers, 2nd, 6th, 12th, 43rd, 71st, 91st, Rifle
| Brigade, and Cape Mounted Rifles.
|
do. do. 79-80 |1st, 7th Dragoon Guards, 17th Lancers, 3rd, 4th,
| 13th, 14th, 15th, 17th, 18th, 21st, 24th, 25th,
| 26th, 38th, 48th, 57th, 62nd, 88th, 91st, Rifle
| Brigade, and Cape Mounted Rifles.
|
Ali Masjad 1879 |10th Hussars, 17th, 47th, 51st, Rifle Brigade, and
| Native Troops. The enemy bolted, and there
| was little or no fighting.
|
Ally-Ghur 1803 |33rd, 76th, with a number of Native Regiments.
|
Almaraz |50th, 71st, and 92nd Foot.
|
Arroyo-dos-Molinos|34th. They proved themselves one too many for
1810 | the French 34th, for our people nearly destroyed
| them to a man or took them prisoners; our 34th
| now carry the French 34th drums.
|
Arabia |65th Foot.
|
Arcot |102nd Fusiliers, with Native Regiments.
|
Amboyna |102nd Fusiliers, with Native Regiments.
|
Aden |103rd Fusiliers, with Native Troops from India.
|
Banda |102nd Fusiliers, with Native Regiments.
|
Buxar |101st Fusiliers, with a number of Native
| Regiments.--The 101st Regiment was made Fusiliers
| after, for its conduct at this battle.
|
Bourbon |69th and 86th Foot, with Native Troops.
|
Bushire |64th and 106th, with Native Troops from India.
|
Beni-boo-Ally |103rd, with a number of Native Regiments--3rd,
|7th, 13th, and 18th Natives.
|
Cabul 1879 |9th Lancers, 9th, 67th, 72nd, 92nd, and Native
| Troops from India.
|
Candahar 1880 |9th Lancers, 7th, 41st, 60th, 66th, 72nd, 92nd, and
| Native Troops from India. The 66th were cut
| to pieces, but they left six times their own number
| of the enemy all around them. A star was
| given for the march in relieving Candahar.
|
Condore |102nd Fusiliers, with Native Regiments.
|
Canton |59th, with Native Troops from India.
|
Copenhagen |49th and old 95th, Sailors and Marines.
|
Carnatic |103rd Fusiliers, with Native Regiments.
|
Deig 1803 |33rd, 76th, 101st Fusiliers, and a number of Native
| Regiments.
|
Delhi 1803 |33rd, 76th, and a number of Native Regiments,
| both horse and foot; they had some rough fighting
| under Wellington, but got nothing for it but
| hard blows.
|
|
Detroit | 41st Foot and German Legion.
|
Dominica | 46th Foot and 1st West India Regiment.
|
Guzerat | 101st and 103rd Fusiliers, with Native Regiments.
|
Hyderabad | 22nd Foot, with Native Regiments. It was at this
| battle where the 22nd so distinguished themselves.
| The odds were very heavy against them.
| They were dropping for want of water, and when
| it was procured they made the Native Regiments
| drink first, although some of them were dying for
| a few drops of that precious liquid.
|
Jellalabad Defence| 13th Foot, with the late General Havelock and
| Native Regiments. He was there in 1839; he
| died a noble Christian; but he knew well how to
| fight for his country's honour, as he said "They
| can only kill the body."
|
Khelat | 2nd and 17th Foot, with Native Regiments.
|
Kirbekan | The South Staffordshire Regiment & Black Watch.
|
Kirkee | 103rd Fusiliers, with a number of Native Regiments.
| It was at this battle that this Regiment
| put ten times their strength into the Indus, and
| nearly all were drowned.
|
Kroshab 1856 | 64th, 68th, 78th, with Native Troops from India,
| under Sir Henry Havelock, Bart.
|
Leipsic | Royal Artillery. The heaviest battle that ever was
| fought since powder was invented; upwards of
| 100,000 dead and wounded lay upon this field.
| It lasted three days. Bonaparte commanded the
| French, and the Emperor of Russia the Allies--
| Russians, Austrians, Prussians, and Swedes.
| Napoleon was beaten, and re-crossed the Rhine,
| with about 70,000 men out of 350,000. English
| gold did this for him; it kept the Allies in the
| field.
|
Leswarree | 8th Hussars, 33rd, 76th, with Native Troops.
|
Lincelles, | Grenadier Guards, Coldstream Guards, Scots
Siege of | Fusilier Guards, with King's German Legion.
|
Maharajpore | 16th Lancers, 39th and 40th, with Native Troops.
| A bronze star was given by the E. I. Company
| for this battle.
|
Marabout | 54th and Marines.
|
Mahidpoor | 102nd Fusiliers and Native Troops.
|
Mandora | 90th, 92nd, and Native Troops.
|
Mangalore | 73rd Foot and Native Troops.
|
Maheidpore | 1st Foot, with a number of Native Regiments.
|
Meeanee | 22nd Foot, with a number of Native Regiments.
| The 22nd fought with desperation, and a number
| of them concealed their wounds and marched
| after the enemy until they dropped.
|
Miami | 41st Foot, with Native Troops.
|
Monte Video | 38th, 40th, 87th, and old 95th, with Spaniards.
| The old Faugh-a-Ballaghs did not forget to use
| the bayonet. The Spaniards were struck with
| wonderment.
|
Moro | 56th Foot, with Native Troops.
|
Mysore 1803 | 102nd, with Native Troops.
|
Nagpoor | 1st Foot, with Native Troops, who ran away; but
| the old 1st made them face up, and showed
| them the way to do it.
|
Nieuport | 53rd Foot.
|
Nile 1884-5 | 19th Hussars, Royal Irish Regiment, Cornwall
| Regt., Royal Sussex, Staffordshire Regt., Black
| Watch, Essex Regt., Royal West Kent Regt.,
| Gordon Highlanders, Cameron Highlanders.
|
Nundy-Droog | 102nd Fusiliers, with Native Troops. The 102nd
| left upwards of 700 men on the field, and then
| won the day.
|
Peiwar Kotal, 1879| 8th, 72nd, with Native Troops from India.
|
Pondicherry | 102nd Fusiliers, with Native Troops. Here the
| old 102nd let the French see what sort of stuff
| they were made of; and the Natives went at
| them manfully.
|
Punniar | 9th Lancers, 3rd, 50th, and Native Troops.
|
Queenstown | 41st, 49th, and a number of Royalists.
|
Reshire | 64th, 106th, and Native Troops from India.
|
St. Lucia | 1st, 27th, 53rd, and 64th Foot, and West India
| Regiments.
|
Sahagun | 15th Hussars. They were a Regiment of Tailors,
| and fought desperately.
|
Scinde | 22nd Foot, with a number of Native Regiments.
|
Sholingur | 102nd Fusiliers, with a number of Native Regiments.
|
Suakin 1885 | 5th Royal Lancers, 20th Hussars, Grenadier Gds.,
| Coldstream Guards, Scots Guards, East Surrey
| Regt., Royal Berks Regt., Shropshire Lt.
| Infantry.
|
Surinam | 64th Foot, with Native Troops.
|
Tarifa | 47th and 87th Foot, with Spaniards.
|
Ternate | 102nd Fusiliers, with Native Troops.
|
Tofrek 1885 | Royal Berkshire Regiment.
|
Tournay | 14th, 37th, and 53rd Foot, with Native Troops.
|
Villiers-en-Couche| 15th Hussars, with Germans.
|
Wilhelmstahl | 5th Fusiliers, with Germans.
|
Wyndewash | 102nd Fusiliers, with Native Regiments.
|
A portion of the Royal Artillery were in almost every battle. The
Marines have often put their shoulders to the wheel, and these
amphibious gentlemen have proved that they are second to none; and the
late go-in at Tel-el-Kebir has shown that they have not degenerated from
their forefathers, who went at it, at the call of that glorious old
Nelson, of whom Norfolk may well be proud, for his name is immortal. And
last, but not least, our noble Jack Tars, or Blue Jackets, have
repeatedly helped to plant our glorious old Standard in many a hot
corner--shoulder to shoulder with the land-crabs, as they like to call
us sometimes. This little book must not attempt to unfold the glorious
deeds of our sailors, but I would fain pay a tribute of respect to them
for their manly conduct under the most trying circumstances. Nothing but
death will stop these "Trafalgar lambs;" the Russians will not forget
them for some time to come, and the Mutineers in India have had good
cause to remember them.
FIRST ACTION OF THE 15th HUSSARS.
The first regiment of Light Dragoons formed for permanent service was
the present 15th Hussars. In 1759 many journeymen tailors went up to
London to lay a petition before Parliament against certain grievances in
connection with the goose; failing to obtain their object, and becoming
slightly ruffled, some hundreds of them at once enlisted into the new
corps that was being raised by the afterwards celebrated defender of
Gibraltar, Col. Eliott. It is an old saying, that it takes nine tailors
to make a man; but in the maiden action, at Emsdorf, 16th July, 1760,
they proved that one tailor was more than a match for nine Frenchmen.
They put small oak branches in their helmets, and displayed the
firmness of that tree, proving themselves heroes of no mean quality; 500
of the enemy got separated from the main body, and had to lay down their
arms to the tailors; the pursuit was then continued, and the enemy
overtaken, and surrendered prisoners of war to the tailors; the total
number of prisoners amounted to 2,659 officers and men; while sixteen
standards or colours were captured by this regiment of tailors, in
Germany, from the French, during the seven years' war, from 1757 to
1763. The French say that it takes nine good men to make a tailor; they
evidently have not forgotten the 15th Hussars.
SINGULAR DESCRIPTION OF A DESERTER.
From the _London Gazette_ of July 10th, 1689.
Ran away out of Captain Soames' Company, in his Grace the
Duke of Norfolk's Regiment, the present Holy Boys, the 9th,
a Barber-Surgeon, a little man, with short black hair, a
little curled, round visage, fresh coloured cloth coat, with
gold and silver buttons, and the loops stitched with gold
and silver, red plush breeches, and white hat; he lived
formerly at Downham Market, Norfolk, and his mother sold
pork. Whoever will give notice to F. Baker, agent to the
said regiment, so that he the Barber-Surgeon may be secured,
shall have two guineas reward.
"God Save the King."
OUTLINE OF THE LIFE OF FIELD-MARSHAL THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON, K.G.
I will now venture to give a sketch of the life and military
achievements of that distinguished General, Wellington, under whom the
British Army met and conquered the terror of Europe, Napoleon.
Wellington, as most of my readers are perhaps aware, was a native of the
Emerald Isle, whose sons have for many years been the pride of our Army
and Navy, and have gone shoulder to shoulder with the sons of Albion
upon many a hard fought field; and here I would remark that the very man
whom Her Most Gracious Majesty and the nation at large now delights to
honour, the present Lord Wolseley, is a native of that Isle. Wellington
was born 1st May, 1769, (the same year that Napoleon was born); and the
following are the dates of his various promotions:--
Joined the Army as Ensign, 7th March, 1787.
Promoted to Lieutenant, 25th December, 1787.
〃 Captain, 30th June, 1791.
〃 Major, 30th April, 1793.
〃 Lieut.-Colonel, 30th September, 1793.
〃 Colonel, 3rd May, 1796.
〃 Major-General, 29th April, 1802.
〃 Lieut.-General, 25th April, 1808.
〃 General in Spain and Portugal, 21st July, 1811.
〃 Field Marshal, 21st June, 1813.
He had plenty of friends in high places to lift him up the ladder of
promotion, so that in eight short years he was in a position to reap all
kinds of honours.
From 1799 to 1815, his career had been one continual string of
victories--from Seringapatam to the Field of Waterloo.
After the Fortress of Seringapatam had been carried by storm, our young
hero, then in his 30th year, was appointed its Governor, 6th May, 1799.
The inhabitants of Central India and Calcutta soon acknowledged his
services by presenting him with a sword of the value of £1,000, 21st
February, 1804; and the Officers that had served under him at Assaye,
23rd October, 1803, presented the conqueror with a service of plate,
embossed with "Assaye, 26th February, 1804." He was appointed by the
then King, George III, Knight Companion of the Bath, for his valorous
services in India, 1st September, 1804. Thanked by his country in
Parliament for the first time, 8th March, 1805, he now returned to
England, and in April, 1807, was sworn in a Privy Councillor. He was
appointed Secretary to Ireland, 19th April, 1807. He was at the capture
of Copenhagen, 5th September, 1807, and his conduct there again brought
forth the thanks of Parliament, 1st February, 1808. He shortly
afterwards sailed for Portugal, to measure his victorious sword with the
best of Napoleon's Generals, and there the Officers who had the pleasure
of serving under him could see his worth as a General, and presented him
with a piece of plate to commemorate the battle and glorious victory of
Vimiera, 21st August, 1808. He was thanked, for the third time, by his
country assembled in Parliament, for his victory over the Legions of
France at Vimiera, 27th January, 1809. He was next appointed to command
our Army in Portugal, 2nd April, 1809; and was appointed Marshal-General
of the Portuguese Army, 6th July, 1809. He again met and rolled up the
Legions of France on the memorable field of Talavera, 27th and 28th
July, 1809; and was thanked, for the fourth time, by Parliament for this
victory, 1st February, 1810, while a pension of £2,000 per annum was
voted to him and his two succeeding male heirs, 16th February, 1810. He
was again thanked by Parliament for the liberation of Portugal at the
point of the British conquering bayonet, directed by his master-mind;
and was appointed Knight Grand Cross of the Tower and Sword of Portugal
by its Prince Regent, 26th October, 1811. We next find him at Ciudad
Rodrigo, which, after a desperate resistance, he took by storm, 19th
January, 1812. For this he was created by the Regency of Spain, Duke of
Ciudad-Rodrigo, January, 1812; and he was thanked for the sixth time by
his country in Parliament for this victory, 10th February, 1812. He was
now advanced in the British Peerage by the title of Earl Wellington,
18th February, 1812; and £2,000 more was voted in addition to his former
grant, 21st February, 1812. He was, shortly after this, under the walls
of Badajoz, which was carried by storm at the point of the queen of
weapons. Here our men disgraced themselves under the influence of
liquor; the desperate resistance that the enemy had made had wrought our
men up to a state of madness, and, once an entrance was forced, the
scene baffles all description, on that terrible 6th April, 1812. The
great military historian Sir W. Napier, may well say of that night, "Oh,
horror of horrors! pen refuses to record the horrible fiend-like deeds
of our poor deluded half-mad countrymen." Our hero was thanked by
parliament, for the seventh time, for Badajoz, 27th April, 1812; the
order of the Golden Fleece of Spain was conferred upon him by the
Regency of that unhappy country, July, 1812; he was appointed General of
the Spanish Armies 12th August, 1812, and advanced in the British
Peerage by the title of Marquis of Wellington, 18th August, 1812; again
advanced by the Regent of Portugal to the title of Marques de Torres
Vedras, 12th September, 1812. His forethought in throwing up those
formidable works at this place struck the French commanders with awe,
and none dared attack them. He again struck a terrible blow on the
plains of Salamanca, and routed the Legions of France, with all their
martial pride, from the field, 22nd July, 1812; and was again thanked by
Parliament, for the eighth time, for this crushing defeat he inflicted
upon the enemy, while a grant of £100,000 was voted by Parliament for
the purchase of an estate for our hero, 7th December, 1812. He inflicted
another terrible blow on the proud Legions of France on the plains of
Vittoria, 21st June, 1813; for this he was raised by the Regent of
Portugal to the title of Duke of Vittoria, 18th December 1813, he was
elected a Knight of the Garter, and thanked by Parliament, for the ninth
time, for his glorious victory of the 21st June, 1813. The
Field-Marshal's baton of Marshal Jordan was captured on this field and
was sent home to the Prince Regent, and in return the Prince sent out to
his conquering General the baton of a Field-Marshal of England. San
Sebastian was carried by storm, and a number of minor operations were
conducted to a successful issue, for which our hero was, for the tenth
time, thanked by Parliament. On the 4th March, 1814, the Prince Regent
granted permission to the Marquis of Wellington to accept and wear the
following Orders or Grand Crosses:--the Imperial and Royal Austrian
Military Order of Maria Theresa, the Imperial Russian Military Order of
St. George, the Royal Prussian Military Order of the Black Eagle, the
Royal Swedish Military Order of the Sword. Napoleon kept continually
changing Wellington's opponent Generals, but our hero beat them all in
detail. Marshal Soult, or the Duke of Dalmatia, was Napoleon's favourite
General. He had been tried upon nearly 100 fields, and now he was to
measure his sword against Wellington, who had by this time immortalised
himself, and had beaten all who came in his way. Soult got a warm
reception, for on the field of Orthes, 27th February, 1814, the Legions
of France, under Napoleon's pet General, were again routed by the Allied
Armies under our hero, who was again thanked, for the eleventh time, by
the Parliament and the Prince Regent for the victory. Our hero was next
advanced in the British peerage by the title of Marquis of Duoro and
Duke of Wellington, 3rd May, 1814, and a grant of £400,000 was voted by
Parliament, in addition to all former grants, 24th June, 1814. Other
battles were fought in the Peninsula but all opponents had to go down
before the never-failing, conquering British bayonet, led by our
invincible son of the Emerald Isle. Peace was now for a time purchased
by the blood of thousands of the best of the sons of Britain; and, on
the 5th July, 1814, our hero was sent as Ambassador to France. On the
11th April, 1815, he again took command of the British Forces on the
Continent. Napoleon the disturber of the civilized world, was again in
the field, and at Waterloo, 16th, 17th, and 18th June, 1815, threw down
the gauntlet at our hero's feet. It was hard pounding, but Wellington
said, "let's see who will pound the longest." Napoleon had collected an
army of veterans, and was determined to measure his conquering sword
upon such a fair field with the despised Sepoy General, as he was wont
to call his Grace. The greater portion of the Army that won Waterloo
consisted of recruits; but, as His Grace said afterwards, had he had
with him the Army that fought Vittoria, he would have charged the whole
of the proud Legions of France from the field, long before our Allies
the Prussians came up, but most of these veterans were then across the
Atlantic. His Grace exposed himself on this field until he was
remonstrated with, and when requested to go to the rear, his answer was,
"I will when I see those fellows off," pointing to the grim-faced
veterans of the Guard that had decided almost every field that Napoleon
had fought. On every field that Napoleon commanded in person, his old
Guards were with him, and when called upon on the field of Waterloo to
surrender, the answer was: "The Guard may die but not surrender." Such,
were the men that our Foot Guards and 52nd routed from the field. Our
hero was again, for the twelfth time, thanked by a grateful country
in Parliament for Waterloo, and a grant of £200,000 was voted by
Parliament, in addition to all former grants, 6th July, 1815. He was
created Prince of Waterloo by the King of the Netherlands, 18th July,
1815, and on the 22nd October, 1815, was appointed Commander-in-Chief
of the Allied Armies of occupation in France. On the 15th of November,
1818, he was appointed a Field-Marshal in the Austrian, Russian,
and Prussian Armies. His Grace had exhausted all the honours that
a grateful country could heap upon one of its citizens. He became
Commander-in-Chief of the British Army, 22nd January, 1827, and on the
13th February, 1828, First Lord of the Treasury. On the 20th January,
1829, he was appointed Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, and was
elected Chancellor of the University of Oxford, 29th January, 1834. No
other man ever lived to attain the honours that His Grace the Duke of
Wellington did. But in spite of all the gifts that a grateful Sovereign
and country could heap upon him, he had to die and leave them behind.
His remains were accorded a State funeral, and rest in St. Paul's
Cathedral, London, where a fitting monument records the esteem and
admiration with which he was justly regarded by his fellow countrymen.
WELLINGTON AND NAPOLEON.
Waterloo was a terrible fight; and the following are a few extracts from
some of His Grace the Duke of Wellington's letters to his friends,
written shortly after the battle, and which will prove of much
interest:--
From "Garwood," Vol. XII.
To Marshal, Prince Schwarzenberg.
Ioncourt, June 26th, 1815.
Our battle on the 18th was one of giants, and our success
was most complete, as you perceive. God grant I may never
see another (and He did grant it), for I am overwhelmed with
grief at the loss of my old friends and comrades.
WELLINGTON.
The following extracts will prove the early and complete conviction of
the Duke that all had been decided at Waterloo:--
To General Dumouriez.
Nivelles, 20th June, 1815.
You will have heard what I have done, and I hope you are
satisfied. I never saw such a battle as the one the day
before yesterday; and never did I gain such a victory. I
trust it is all over with Buonaparte. We are in hot pursuit
of him.
WELLINGTON.
To General, the Earl of Uxbridge.
Le Chateau, 23rd June, 1815.
My opinion is that we have given Napoleon his death-blow. He
can make no head against us. He has only to hang himself.
WELLINGTON.
To Marshal, Lord Beresford.
Gonesse, July 2nd, 1815.
You will have heard of our battle of the 18th. Never did I
see such a pounding match. Both were what the boxers call
gluttons. Napoleon did not manoeuvre at all. He just moved
forward in the old style, in columns; and was driven off in
the old style, in line. I had the infantry for some time in
squares; and we had the French cavalry walking about us as
if they had been our own. I never saw the British Infantry
behave so well.
WELLINGTON.
The following will prove that our hero had no animosity towards
Napoleon:--
To Sir Charles Stuart, G.C.B.
The Prussians think the Jacobins wish to give him over to
me, believing that I will save his life; Blucher wishes to
kill him, but I have told him that I shall remonstrate, and
shall insist upon his being disposed of by common accord. I
have likewise said that, as a private friend, I advise him
to have nothing to do with so foul a transaction, that he
and I had acted too distinguished parts in these
transactions to become executioners, and that I was
determined that, if the Sovereigns wished to put him to
death, they should appoint an executioner, which should not
be me.
WELLINGTON.
LOSS OF THE REGIMENTS AT WATERLOO.
Strength of the British Army on the 16th of June, 1815, and the loss of
the different Regiments in killed, wounded, and missing, on the 16th,
17th, and 18th.
+--------------+--------+-------------------------------------+--------+
| |Strength| Loss on the | No. of |
| |exclu- +------------------+------------------+Officers|
| | sive of| 16th and 17th | 18th June | killed |
| Regiments. |Officers+---------+--------+---------+--------+ on the |
| |on the |Officers.|Non- |Officers.|Non- | Fields |
| |morn of | | Coms. | | Coms. | |
| |16th. | |and men.| |and men.| |
+--------------+--------+---------+--------+---------+--------+--------+
|1st Life | | | | | | |
| Guards | 263 | 2 | 18 | 4 | 65 | 2 |
|2nd Life | | | | | | |
| Guards | 235 | .. | .. | 2 | 155 | 1 |
|Royal Horse | | | | | | |
| Guards Blue | 254 | 2 | 8 | 4 | 98 | 1 |
|1st Dragoon | | | | | | |
| Guards | 571 | .. | .. | 11 | 246 | 7 |
|1st Royal | | | | | | |
| Dragoons | 428 | .. | .. | 14 | 196 | 5 |
|2nd Royal D. | | | | | | |
| (Scots Greys)| 442 | .. | .. | 15 | 199 | 7 |
|6th | 445 | .. | .. | 7 | 217 | 2 |
| Inniskillen | | | | | | |
|7th Hussars | 408 | 4 | 46 | 10 | 150 | 2 |
|10th Hussars | 452 | .. | .. | 8 | 94 | 2 |
|11th Hussars | 438 | .. | 3 | 6 | 73 | 1 |
|12th Hussars | 427 | .. | .. | 5 | 111 | 3 |
|13th Hussars | 449 | .. | 1 | 10 | 108 | 1 |
|15th Hussars | 447 | .. | .. | 11 | 79 | 3 |
|16th Hussars | 434 | .. | .. | 6 | 32 | 2 |
|18th Hussars | 444 | .. | 2 | 2 | 102 | .. |
|23rd Hussars | 347 | .. | 6 | 6 | 72 | 1 |
|1st Foot | | | | | | |
| Guards, | | | | | | |
| 2nd Batt. | 1066 | 8 | 285 | 11 | 153 | 4 |
|ditto | | | | | | |
| 3rd Batt. | 1122 | 9 | 262 | 7 | 343 | 6 |
|Coldstream | | | | | | |
| Guards | | | | | | |
| 2nd Batt. | 1045 | .. | .. | 13 | 308 | 4 |
|3rd Foot | | | | | | |
| Guards, | | | | | | |
| 2nd Batt. | 1063 | .. | 7 | 15 | 239 | 7 |
|1st Royals, | | | | | | |
| 3rd Batt. | 671 | 10 | 218 | 22 | 144 | 7 |
|4th Regiment, | | | | | | |
| 1st Batt. | 670 | .. | .. | 10 | 134 | 1 |
|14th Regiment,| | | | | | |
| 3rd Batt. | 630 | .. | .. | 2 | 36 | .. |
|23rd Royal | | | | | | |
| Welsh | | | | | | |
| Fusiliers | 741 | .. | .. | 12 | 104 | 7 |
|27th | | | | | | |
| Inniskillen | 750 | .. | .. | 14 | 104 | 2 |
|28th Regiment,| | | | | | |
| 1st Batt. | 631 | 6 | 75 | 14 | 177 | 3 |
|30th | | | | | | |
| Regiment, | | | | | | |
| 1st Batt. | 686 | 8 | 51 | 12 | 228 | 6 |
|32nd | | | | | | |
| Regiment, | | | | | | |
| 1st Batt. | 699 | 8 | 196 | 20 | 174 | 3 |
|33rd | | | | | | |
| Regiment, | | | | | | |
| 2nd Batt. | 682 | 7 | 106 | 15 | 185 | 7 |
|40th | | | | | | |
| Regiment, | | | | | | |
| 1st Batt. | 862 | .. | .. | 12 | 219 | 2 |
|42nd | | | | | | |
| Highlanders, | | | | | | |
| 2nd Batt. | 717 | 18 | 288 | 6 | 49 | 4 |
|44th | | | | | | |
| Regiment, | | | | | | |
| 2nd Batt. | 618 | 12 | 138 | 6 | 64 | 2 |
|51st Light | | | | | | |
| Infantry | 619 | .. | .. | 2 | 42 | .. |
|52nd Light | | | | | | |
| Infantry | 1148 | .. | .. | 10 | 199 | 1 |
|69th Regiment,| | | | | | |
| 2nd Batt. | 696 | 9 | 155 | 4 | 85 | 5 |
|71st | | | | | | |
| Highlanders | 929 | .. | .. | 17 | 202 | 3 |
|73rd Regiment,| | | | | | |
| 2nd Batt. | 554 | 4 | 56 | 20 | 280 | 8 |
|79th | | | | | | |
| Highlanders | 644 | 26 | 204 | 9 | 175 | 10 |
|92nd | | | | | | |
| Highlanders | 708 | 20 | 286 | 8 | 116 | 7 |
|95th Rifles, | | | | | | |
| 1st Batt. | 482 | 6 | 64 | 12 | 156 | 4 |
|95th Rifles, | | | | | | |
| 2nd Batt. | 655 | .. | .. | 15 | 246 | 1 |
|95th Rifles, | | | | | | |
| 3rd Batt. | 202 | .. | .. | 5 | 50 | 1 |
|Royal | | | | | | |
| Artillery | | | | | | |
| 1st Batt. | 4972 | 3 | 28 | 33 | 476 | 10 |
+--------------+--------+---------+--------+---------+--------+--------+
The total loss of 11,950 Includes--Belgians, King's German Legion,
Hanoverians, Brunswickers, and Dutch Troops. It may not be generally
known that, although the whole of Europe was banded together against
Napoleon, not a man, so to speak, could any of the Nations put into the
field, without the help of the needful from England. This short Campaign
cost us £110,000,000 sterling; England was the universal Pay-master.
* * * * *
The Allied and Prussian Armies entered Paris on the 7th July, and were
followed next day by Louis XVIII. Before the end of the month the armies
of Europe congregated in and around Paris, amounted to the enormous
number of nearly a million of men in arms.
Napoleon in the meantime had left the Capital, and surrendered himself
to Captain Maitland of the _Bellerophon_, on the 15th July, 1815; and by
a decree of the Allied Powers, he was sent to St. Helena, where he died,
5th May, 1821.
Since these events nearly seventy years have passed over us, and peace
between the two greatest nations of the globe, England and France, has
been uninterruptedly maintained. We have fought shoulder to shoulder on
more than one hard-fought field, both in the Crimea and China; and long
may we continue to act together, to the honour of those whose blood on
the field of Waterloo purchased this friendship, and to the lasting
happiness of the civilized world.
NAPOLEON AND THE FRENCH PRESS.
Talk about two faces under one hat! The following will help the reader
to see how many faces our gallant neighbours the French have.
When Napoleon escaped from the Isle of Elba, whither he had been sent as
a sort of state prisoner, the French newspapers announced his departure
and progress until his entry into Paris, as follows:--
March 9th.--The Anthrophagus has quitted his den.
〃 10th.--The Corsican Ogre has landed at Cape Juan.
〃 11th.--The Tiger has arrived at Gap.
〃 12th.--The Monster slept at Grenoble.
〃 13th.--The Tyrant has passed through Lyons.
〃 14th.--The Usurper is directing his steps towards Dijon,
but the brave and loyal Burgundians have risen _en masse_
and surrounded him on all sides. And Marshal Ney, "the
bravest of the brave," has gone forth to meet him, and has
sworn to bring him to Paris in an iron cage, and present him
to our beloved King.
〃 18th.--Buonaparte is only sixty leagues from the capital.
He has been fortunate enough to escape his pursuers.
〃 19th.--Buonaparte is advancing with rapid steps, but he
will never enter Paris alive. 〃 20th.--Napoleon will
to-morrow be under our ramparts.
〃 21st.--The Emperor is at Fontainebleau.
〃 22nd.--His Imperial and Royal Majesty yesterday evening
arrived at the Tuilleries, amidst the joyful acclamations of
his devoted and faithful subjects.
A BRITISH AMAZON.
This brave woman was--to perpetrate a "Bull"--an Irishman, or rather was
supposed so to be. She served as a foot soldier and dragoon in several
campaigns, under King William and the Duke of Marlborough. She gave
surprising proofs of courage, strength, and dexterity in handling all
sorts of weapons. She was a married woman with two children. Her
husband, under the influence of drink, enlisted into the 1st Foot, and
was at once sent off to Flanders. Our heroine was determined to find him
up, so she cut off her hair, dressed herself in a suit of her husband's
clothing, and enlisted into the 5th foot, under the name of Christopher
Welsh. Shortly after, our heroine joined the army in Flanders, and was
present at the Battle of Landen, where she was wounded just above the
ankle. To use her own words, "When I heard the cannon play and the small
shot rattle about me, it threw me into a sort of panic, not being used
to such rough music." This wound laid her up for two months. Shortly
after she was taken prisoner by the French. Here she met her first
cousin, Captain Cavenagh, a French officer, but was not recognised.
After nine days she was exchanged and returned to the army, and gained
the affection of a butcher's daughter, which led to a duel with a rival
lover, a Sergeant of the same regiment, who had insulted the lady in
question. The Sergeant was wounded; and for this she was imprisoned, the
Sergeant's wounds being mortal. The father of the young lady obtained
the release of our heroine, and her discharge; but she managed to escape
this love affair, and enlisted again, this time into the Scots Greys,
and served during the siege of Namur, 1695. An odd adventure now befell
her, for a child was laid to her charge as being the father, and,
refusing to expose the perjury of the mother, she defrayed the expense
of the infant. In the second attack at Schellenburg she received a ball
in the hip, which was never extracted; her sex narrowly escaped
detection while in hospital. After the Battle of Blenheim she was sent
to guard prisoners, and met with her husband, who was embracing a Dutch
woman. She made herself known to him, and the recognition may be more
easily imagined than described; his faults were all overlooked, but she
resolved to pass as his brother until the war was over, and left him,
after giving him a piece of gold. "The pretty Dragoon," for so she was
called, next gained the affections of a young Dutch girl. She was
wounded again at Ramillies, and, although she suffered much, yet the
discovery of her sex was a greater grief to her. The surprising news
spread far and near, and Lord J. Hay declared she should want for
nothing. Brigadier Preston made her a present of a handsome silk gown,
and the officers all contributed what was necessary to furnish her with
proper costume, and she was dismissed the service with a handsome
compliment. His lordship hoped she would not continue her cruelty to her
husband now she no longer passed under a disguise; there was a new
marriage, all the officers being invited, the old practice of throwing
the slipper not being forgotten, and a kiss being given to the bride by
all on taking leave. She was very useful to the Army as a suttler, and
in obtaining information. Whilst at Comtray she won a race with her
mare, on which she carried provisions, with Captain Montgomery of the
Grenadiers. The officers bet heavily upon her; they both went to the
place chosen to run upon, and starting at the beat of the drum, the
Captain suffered her to keep pace with him for some time, but all at
once she made a furious push at him, flung man and horse into a ditch,
and thus won the race; the general and all the officers laughed heartily
at her stratagem, except the Captain who had been in the ditch. Many
other adventures are related about this singular woman. Her husband was
killed at the Battle of Malplaquet, and she found his body and buried
it; her grief was great, but she married H. Jones, a Grenadier, about
seven weeks afterwards. Her second husband was killed at St. Vincent,
and she covered him with her clothes. After the peace she presented a
petition to Queen Anne, who said it would be her care to provide for
her, and if she was delivered of a boy, she would give him a commission
as soon as born. The child proved to be a girl, much to the mother's
vexation; and her Majesty ordered £50 to be given her to defray
expenses. Her third husband was a soldier named Davis, who had served
with her. At the time of his marriage he was in the Welsh Fusiliers. The
Queen had ordered one shilling a day for Mrs. Davis, which the Lord
Treasurer reduced to 5d.; but a friend took the matter up, and the King
ordered one shilling as originally intended. This heroine marched in the
funeral procession of the Duke of Marlborough, as she says, "with a
heavy heart and streaming eyes." She died on the 7th July, 1739, and was
interred, with military honours, in the burying-ground belonging to
Chelsea Hospital.
A similar instance of a female soldier is recorded on a tombstone in the
parish Church of St. Nicholas, Brighton, the singular inscription being
as follows:--
In memory of
PHEBE HESSEL,
Who was born at Stepney in the year 1713.
She served for many years
As a Private Soldier in the 5th Regiment of Foot,
In different parts of Europe,
And in the year 1745 fought under the Command
Of the Duke of Cumberland,
At the Battle of Fontenoy,
Where she received a Bayonet Wound in the Arm.
Her long life, which commenced in the time of
Queen Anne,
Extended to the reign of
George IV.,
By whose munificence she received comfort
And support in her latter years.
She died at Brighton, where she long resided,
December 12th, 1821, aged 108 years.
George the IV. allowed this veteran a pension of half-a-guinea a week,
which she enjoyed for many years.
CHAPTER X.
Curious Modes of Recruiting in the "Good Old Days"--Pig
Killing--The Late Duke of Kent--Examples of Brevity--Act of
Self-devotion--The Piper of the 74th Highlanders at
Badajoz--It is better to Leave "Well" Alone--Hard up! Hard
Up!--Remarkable Wounds and Hairbreadth Escapes--Introduction
of Bayonets into our Army, and the Use our People have made
of them since 1672, up to the late go-in in Egypt, at
Tel-el-Kebir--Desperate Defence of Colours--Heroic Stands by
Small Armies against overwhelming Odds--The 52nd
Regiment--The Old Suffolk Regiments, second to none--England
not a Military Nation?
RECRUITING IN THE "GOOD OLD DAYS."
When Queen Elizabeth resolved to assist Henry IV., of France, in raising
the siege of Calais, besieged in 1596 by the Spaniards, under Cardinal
Albert, Archduke of Austria, she commanded some levies to be raised in
England for this purpose, and the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London
having received a message from the Court commanding them to raise 1,000
men immediately for the relief of Calais, proceeded on Easter Sunday,
1596, to the several Churches, with their constables, fastened all the
doors, and selected from the congregation the number of men required;
they were immediately equipped and sent to Dover, and from thence to
France. So much for the good old days of Queen Bess!
An Act was passed during the early part of Queen Anne's reign,
authorising Justices of the Peace to apprehend all such persons as had
no apparent means of subsistence, and deliver them to the military, on
being paid the levy-money allowed for passing recruits. This remarkable
Act was revived by George II.
The following is extracted from _Loyd's Evening Post_, published in
1759, and it shows how crime might be condoned by entering the army:--
"_Norwich, 4th August._--On Thursday last was committed to the Castle by
R. Brown, Esq., John Ludkins or Adkins, being charged on oath of
Elizabeth, the wife of W. Williams, victualler of Weybourn, in Norfolk,
with robbing her of 30s. He was committed a few weeks since to the City
gaol, for defrauding Mr. Thurby of £10, but made his escape out of
prison. He was afterwards re-taken, and on condition that he enlisted
for a soldier, which he accordingly did, prosecution against him was to
stop. He enlisted into the 56th Foot, and afterwards deserted." We are
happy to know that such good-for-nothing scamps would not now be
admitted into our service.
PIG KILLING.
Officers and men, during the Peninsular War, had a good eye for young
pork, and were not at all particular about knocking over a young
grunter. Complaints were brought to the late Duke of Wellington, but His
Grace's larder not being short, and not having much compassion for those
that were marching night and day, often with nothing to eat, he issued
the following Order:--
"G.O. No. 1. Officers and Soldiers are again positively
prohibited from pig-shooting. Anyone found disobeying this
Order shall be shot."
A far different kind of pig-killing is narrated in the following
truthful incident, which occurred during the War of American
Independence, in 1779. This war in America was rather a species of
hunting than a regular campaign. Washington understood it, for he told
his men frequently that if they fought with Art they would be sure to be
defeated, for they had no discipline and no uniformity. The Americans
had incorporated Indians into their ranks, who were very useful to them;
they sallied out of their impenetrable forests or jungles, and, with
their arrows and tomahawks, committed daily waste on the British. A
Regiment of Foot was at this time stationed on the border of a vast
forest, and its particular duty was to guard every avenue of approach to
the main body. Sentinels were posted pretty thick to keep a sharp
look-out upon the different outlets. But these sentinels were
continually being surprised upon their posts and borne off, without
communicating any alarm to the next sentinel or being heard of after.
Not a trace was left as to how they had disappeared; though on one or
two occasions a few drops of blood had appeared upon the leaves. Many
imputed this unaccountable disappearance to treachery, others to
desertion, but it was a mystery to all.
One morning, after they had taken extra precautions, they went to
relieve the post, and found both sentinels gone; the surprise was great;
they left another man and departed, wishing him better luck. "You need
not be afraid," said the good man, "I shall not desert." In due course
the relief returned, and, to their astonishment, this man was also gone;
they searched round the spot, but no traces could be found. It was
necessary that the post should be held, and they left another double
sentry, and when they came to relieve them, behold, they were both gone.
The superstition of the men was awakened; brave men had been lost whose
courage and honesty had never been suspected, and the poor fellows whose
turn next came to take the post trembled from head to foot. "I know I
must do my duty," one said to his officer, "but I should like to lose
my life with more credit." A man immediately stepped from the ranks and
desired to take the post. Every one commended his resolution. "I will
not be taken alive," said he, "and you shall hear of me on the least
alarm; at all events, I will fire my piece if I hear the least noise;
you may be alarmed when nothing is the matter, but you must take your
chance about that." The Colonel applauded his courage, and told him he
would be quite right to fire. His comrades shook hands with him and then
marched back to the guard house. An hour had elapsed, and no discharge
of musket, when, upon a sudden, the report was heard. The Guard
immediately (accompanied by the Colonel) advanced. As they approached
the post, they saw the man advancing towards them, dragging another man
by the hair of his head. An explanation was required. "I told your
honour," said the man, "that I should fire, if I heard the least noise."
I had not been long on my post, when I heard a rustling at some short
distance; I looked and saw an American hog, such as are common in the
woods, crawling along the ground, and seemingly looking for nuts under
the trees. As these animals are so common, I ceased to consider it for
some time, but being in constant alarm I kept my eye upon it, and it
gradually kept getting closer to my post. My comrades, thought I, will
laugh at me for shooting a pig. I had almost made up my mind to let it
alone, just then I observed it give an unusual spring; I no longer
hesitated, but took my aim and discharged my piece, and the animal was
stretched before me with a groan, which I knew at once to be that of a
human creature. I went up to it, and, to my astonishment, found I had
killed an Indian. He had enveloped himself in the skin of one of these
wild hogs, his hands and feet being entirely concealed in it. He was
armed with a dagger and tomahawk. The other animals disappeared as fast
as possible, for there were a number of them all around me. We could now
account for our sentinels disappearing; the Indians must have got close
up to the men, and, at an unguarded moment, sprung upon them, stabbed or
scalped them, and borne their bodies away. The Americans, we learnt,
gave them a reward for every scalp of a Britisher.
H.R.H. THE LATE DUKE OF KENT LEADING STORMERS AT MARTINIQUE.
It was a Brigade of Grenadiers, composed of the following Regiments, 7th
R.F., 8th, 13th, 15th, 23rd, 25th, and Flank Companies of the 60th,
63rd, and 90th Regiments, that Her Most Gracious Majesty's father, then
Duke of Kent, when about to storm Martinique, placed himself in front of
and thus addressed--"Grenadiers, this is St. Patrick's Day, the English
will do their duty in compliment to the Irish, and the Irish in
compliment to the Saint--forward Grenadiers." The Duke's aides-de-camp
both fell in the storm, and so did Martinique; and for many years, the
capture of Martinique was commemorated by a dinner at the United Service
Club, on each succeeding St. Patrick's Day.
EXAMPLES OF BREVITY.
General Sir R. Boyd was remarkable for the brevity of his despatches.
Whilst Governor of Gibraltar, he wrote an order to his Agent, Mr.
Browne, in England, for his own private stores in three words,
namely--"Browne, beef, Boyd," and the reply which accompanied the
stores, was equally good--"Boyd, beef, Browne."
Sir C. Napier, the conqueror of Scinde, sent the following despatch home
to Government, "I have Scinde;" he was requested to hold his own, but to
"sin" no more.
ACT OF SELF-DEVOTION.
During the War with America, in 1781, Corporal O'Lavery, of the 17th
Light Dragoons, was sent with the bearer of a despatch to Lord Rawdon.
On their way they were attacked and both severely wounded. The bearer
died on the road, and the corporal, taking the paper, rode on until he
fell from his horse from loss of blood. In order to conceal the
important secret contained in the despatch, should he be taken by the
enemy, he thrust the paper into his wound, which, although not mortal in
itself, proved so by this act. When found on the following day,
sufficient life was left in him to point to the fatal depository of the
secret. He was a native of the county Down, where a monument records his
fame, and the gratitude of his commander, Lord Rawdon:--
Nor shall the men of humble lot,
Brave O'Lavery and Smith, be forgot.
In life and death to honour just,
Neither resigned their sacred trust.
Such bright examples should be told,
Of hearts of more than mortal mould,
The youth in rank and martial station,
They form the bulwark of the nation.
BADAJOZ AND THE PIPER OF THE 74TH.
At the Siege of Badajoz, in April, 1812, when the final attack was made
on the night of the 6th April, amongst the foremost in the escalade was
John McLauchlan, the Piper of the 74th, who, the instant he mounted the
Castle wall, began playing the regimental quick step, "The Campbells are
coming," at the head of the advance along the ramparts, as coolly as if
he was on parade, until his music was stopped by a shot through the bag
of his pipes. He was afterwards seen seated on a gun carriage, quietly
repairing the damage, perfectly unconcerned about the shots flying
around him, and presently recommenced his animating tune. The poor piper
was afterwards cut in two by a cannon shot at the battle of Vittoria,
21st June in the following year, whilst playing his charming music in
rear of the colours of his Regiment.
IT'S BETTER TO LEAVE "WELL" ALONE.
The Governor of Gibraltar, during the siege by the French and Spanish in
1781, was surprised to see certain of the soldiers constantly
intoxicated, although the sale of spirituous liquors was strictly
prohibited. It was at length remarked that the men were desirous to
obtain water from one particular well in the Medical garden, and
considering that there must be a reason for the preference, it was
resolved to examine it, when the water was found to be strongly
impregnated with rum. This circumstance was accounted for by the fact
that the Governor had received a quantity of rum, and for its greater
security, and to keep it from the knowledge of the soldiers, had it
buried near the well mentioned, close to which a shell had exploded;
this, tearing up the earth, and bursting the casks, caused the spirit to
flow into the well. Another amusing anecdote of a well has been
preserved. During the Peninsular war, certain officers at the Mess table
were observed to decline the soup, which made the General at the head
of the table anxious to ascertain the cause, whereupon it was mentioned
that a French soldier had been discovered that morning in the well from
which the water had been obtained, in a state of decomposition. This did
not spoil the General's appetite, for it is said that he immediately
asked for another basin of soup, at the same time remarking that "it
would have been much better, and taste the sweeter, if the whole French
army, with Napoleon, had been in it."
"HARD UP, HARD UP, THE DAYS WHEN WE WERE HARD UP."
During one part of the Peninsular war our people were so hard up for
shot that they had to, and did, collect all the French shot that was
fired at us, and thus paid the enemy back in their own coin. A letter
from the Duke of Wellington to some of his friends at home thus referred
to it:--
Camp, Villa Fremosa, 11th May 1811.
"You at home will hardly believe that we are so hard up for
shot that we are compelled to pick up the enemy's shot in
our camp to supply our guns with."
My readers, perhaps, are not aware, that this practice was resumed
during the siege of Sebastopol; as will be seen by the following General
Order issued by Lord Raglan, 24th October, 1854:--
Camp before Sevastopol, 24th October, 1854.
The Commander-in-Chief is pleased to authorise the payment
of four pence for each small shot, and sixpence for each
large one, which may be brought into the Camp of
Lieut.-Colonel Gambier, Royal Artillery, near the Light
Division, by any soldier or seaman.
A number of our men might be seen, from morning until night, bringing
them in, and making a very good harvest, for they were plentiful all
around the town, particularly in rear of our 21-gun battery. This order
did not last long enough, for on the 4th November, 1854, it was
cancelled as follows:--
General Order No. 1, of the 24th October, authorising
payment for shot delivered at the Camp of the Right Siege
Train, is cancelled.
Therefore, it was not only food and clothing we were hard up for, but we
had actually no shot to use, and if the enemy had known it we should
have had to use the bayonet to defend our batteries with, though I
believe we should have managed to hold our own: but fancy the surprise
of the enemy when they found their own shot going back to them.
This was repeated in front of Delhi, in 1857; but the men in this
instance got grog for every shot they fetched, and we may rest assured
they got as many as they could.
REMARKABLE WOUNDS AND HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPES.
King William III had some remarkable escapes, for it is stated that at
the battle of Loddon, he was narrowly missed by three musket shots; one
passed through his periwig, and made him deaf for some time, another
through the sleeve of his coat, doing no harm, the third carried off the
knot of his scarf, and left a contusion on his side.
King Charles XII of Sweden, though repeatedly signalising himself in
famous battles, received no wound, but one evening, after fighting a
terrible battle against the Russians, as he was changing his dress, he
found a ball lodged in his black cravat, while another had passed
through his hat, and a third had broken his watch and remained in his
pocket at his left breast.
Lieut.-General Carpenter and the division under General Stanhope were
taken prisoners by the French and Spanish forces at the battle of
Brihuega, in the mountains of Castile, 7th December, 1710. On this
occasion General Carpenter was wounded by a musket ball, which broke
part of his jaw, and lodged under the root of his tongue, where it
remained several months before it could be extracted, and the pain, it
is needless to add, was very great, but he survived this remarkable
wound twenty-one years. He died on the 10th February, 1732, aged 75.
Captain Murray, of the 42nd Highlanders, was wounded at the battle of
Martinique in 1762, by a musket ball, which entered his left side, under
the lower rib, passed up through the left lobe of the lungs (as was
ascertained after his death), crossed his chest and, mounting up to his
right shoulder, lodged under the scapula. His case being considered
desperate, the only object of the Surgeons in attendance was to make his
situation as easy as possible for the few hours they supposed he had to
live, but, to the great surprise of all around, he was on his legs in a
few weeks, and before he reached England was quite recovered--at least
his health and appetite were restored. He was, however, never afterwards
able to lie down, and during the 32 years of his subsequent life, slept
in an upright posture, supported in his bed by pillows. He died in 1794,
a Lieut.-General and Colonel of the 72nd Regiment.
The following will prove that while there is life there is hope:--At the
siege of Gibraltar by the French and Spanish, during one of the attacks,
a shell came through one of the embrasures and killed a number of the
73rd (the present 71st), and wounded others of the same corps. The case
of one of the wounded was desperate, and it will serve to enforce the
maxim that, even in the most dangerous cases, we should not despair of
recovery whilst life remains. Pte. Pat Murphy was knocked down by the
wind of the shell, which, instantly bursting, killed and wounded all
around, and mangled him in a most dreadful manner. His head was terribly
fractured, his left arm broken in two places, one of his legs shattered,
the skin and muscles torn off part of his right hand, the middle finger
broken to pieces, and his whole body most severely bruised and marked
with gunpowder. He presented so horrid an object to the Surgeons that
they had not the smallest hope of saving his life, and were at a loss
what part to attend to first. He was that evening trepanned, a few days
afterwards his leg was amputated, and other wounds and fractures
dressed. Being possessed of a most excellent constitution, nature
performed wonders in his favour, and in eleven weeks his cure was
completely effected, and he long continued to enjoy a pension of
nine-pence per diem. These were the good old days.
W. Masters, Esq., who died in March, 1799, was a Colonel under the Duke
of Cumberland, and in one of the engagements was shot through the lungs
by a musket ball, which entirely cured him of a violent asthma. The Duke
used to say, when any of his friends laboured under that disorder, that
they must get shot through the lungs, like Masters.
Samuel Evans, a private in the 2nd Foot, was carried off amongst the
wounded at Corunna. He arrived in England, and died in the Military
Hospital, Plymouth, on the 30th January, 1809. On a _post mortem_
examination being made, it was discovered that he had been shot through
the _heart_, and yet had survived for sixteen days. His heart is
preserved to this day in the museum of the above-named hospital. Some
soldiers are as tough as old leather.
Sir Charles Napier's life is one justifying Lord Byron's remark, that
truth is stranger than fiction. In infancy he was snatched, when at the
last stage of starvation, from a vile nurse. When a boy, attempting a
dangerous leap, he tore the flesh from his leg in a frightful manner. A
few years later he fractured the other leg. At the battle of Corunna he
received five terrible wounds, and, but for the aid of a generous French
drummer, would have been killed. He was made a prisoner, and, his fate
being long unknown, was mourned as dead by his family. In the battle of
Busaco a bullet struck his face and lodged behind the ear, splintering
the jaw bone; yet, with this dreadful hurt, he made his way, under a
fierce sun, to Lisbon, more than 100 miles. Returning from France after
the battle of Waterloo, the ship in which he was, sunk off Flushing, and
he only saved himself by swimming to a pile, on which he clung until a
boat carried him off, half drowned. He escaped cholera, and a second
shipwreck, off the Indus. At Kurrachee, 13th September, 1842, he was
observing the practice of a rocket battery, when one of the missiles
burst, rocket and shell together, and tore the calf of his right leg
open to the bone. The wound was at once stitched up, and in a short time
he was able to set firmly on horse back, and then conducted a dangerous
war to a glorious termination. This gentleman was the brother of the
late Lieut.-General Sir William Napier, the author of "The Peninsular
War."
* * * * *
Perhaps one of the most singular wounds, ever received without causing
immediate death was the following:--Lieutenant French, of the 38th Foot,
on the 18th June, 1855, at the attack on the Redan, received a gunshot
wound in the upper portion of the left shoulder, which penetrated the
chest, and resulted in compression of the left lung, _and the removal of
the heart from the left to the right side_. He recovered, but his left
arm was powerless, and his general health very delicate. He died on the
9th Dec., 1857.
Major Sir Thomas Troubridge, Bart., of the 7th Royal Fusiliers, while
commanding a battery at the battle of Inkermann, 5th November, 1854, was
desperately wounded by a 42-pounder, and would not allow himself to be
removed, but remained at his post doing all he could to animate his
Fusiliers to acts of valour. Both his feet were carried away. The same
shot did a lot of damage. It carried away the calf of Captain Owen's
leg, and knocked over four or five men. After the action was over, Sir
T. Troubridge was attended to, one of his feet was amputated, also the
other leg just below the knee. This gallant old Fusilier recovered, and
strangers would scarcely know that he had been so severely wounded. I
was close to him when he fell. He died a few years ago, Assistant
Quartermaster-General to the British Army, Clothing Department. He had
two cork feet made, and could walk well with the aid of a stick. Capt.
Owen, of the 33rd, died from the effects of his wound, having suffered
severely for many years, the wound never having healed.
The following remarkable wound was received by a private of the 14th
Regiment during the siege of Sebastopol:--On the morning of the 25th
July, 1855, Private Francis O'Brien, a lad of eighteen years, was
brought from the trenches, with a wound from a musket ball in the right
temple. Surgeon De Lisle attended the case; the ball entered two inches
above the orbit, passed downwards and drove out a large portion of the
spina-orbital ridge, which appeared to be embedded in the upper eyelid,
and was cut down upon by the medical officer in the trenches, in mistake
for the ball, which it certainly very much resembled. As no ball could
be found, it was supposed to have passed out at the opening of entrance.
The finger, when passed into the wound, could feel the pulsation of the
brain, yet from that day to the present, or for years after, no symptoms
of cerebral disturbance appeared, unless it be that since his
convalescence, the muscles of the face work convulsively when he feels
faint and weak, from remaining too long in an erect posture. About a
month after admission to Hospital the detached portion of the bone above
the orbit was removed from the eyelid, though with considerable
difficulty, and on the following morning the ball fell from the wound,
much to the poor lad's horror, for he thought his eye had dropped out.
Both wounds have now been healed, but he is unable to raise the right
eyelid; the eye is perfect, but apparently without power of vision,
though sensible to the light, for on turning the wounded side to the
light the left pupil contracts. His general health is good.
A comrade of my own, Corporal Spence, of the Royal Fusiliers, received a
wound from a musket ball at the Alma in the right cheek, but took no
notice of it; thought it must have been a piece of stone; did not report
himself either wounded or sick. About 30 days afterwards he complained
of a stiff neck, but would not give in; day after day went on, it kept
getting worse and worse every day, until at last he could not move his
head, and a large lump was visible on the left side of his neck, about
two and a half inches from the ear. We all thought that it was a blind
boil, and so did the Corporal, and as he was for the trenches that
evening, and not one of those who would give in at trifles, he said he
would go to Hospital and get his boil lanced, and take up his duty in
the evening. He accordingly went to Hospital; Dr. Hale, V.C., examined
the boil, and applied the lance, and out came his friend from the
Alma--about an ounce of lead. It had worked round from the right cheek
to the left ear. The Corporal at once returned to his duty, and went
through the remainder of the campaign. He wore this little messenger on
his watch chain. He was for some years a Corporal-Major in the Oxford
Blues, and, as far as I know, is alive now.
The following instance of suspended animation, in the case of Sergeant
Bubb, of the 28th Regiment, is, perhaps, one of the most remarkable in
the annals of the Humane Society. Mr. W. H. Crowfoot, Surgeon, of
Beccles, was called professionally to Kessingland, on the 17th December,
1805, and met by accident a cart containing, as he was told, the dead
body of a soldier. The history of the supposed dead man was briefly
this:--The previous day, about eleven o'clock, after suffering shipwreck
with a part of the 28th Foot, he sank into a state of insensibility upon
the deck, where he remained during the night, and was said to have
perished through the inclemency of the weather. He was brought on shore
between 11 and 12 o'clock next day, and was left on the beach for some
two hours, under the conviction that he was dead. Mr. Crowfoot desired
to examine the body, and perceiving some warmth about the heart, he
resolved to use his endeavours to restore the poor man. To the
astonishment of all present, he very fortunately succeeded, after three
hours' unwearied application of the means usually employed on such
occasions.
The battle of Albuera, 16th May, 1811, is acknowledged by those who are
competent to judge, to have been one of the most desperate battles ever
fought between man and man. It was on this field that the 57th gained
the name they are now known by, "the die-hards." Their Colonel called
out, in the thick of the fight, "57th, let us die hard." They marched
into action 580 strong, and by 2 p.m. 22 officers and 430 men were
killed or wounded. Ensign Jackson carried the King's colours, and thirty
bullets passed through it. Nine balls passed through this officer's
clothes, and he received five wounds, one quite through his chest, but
lived upwards of forty years after.
The noble deeds of our forefathers, on the field of Albuera, will be
found in another part of this book under the head of desperate deeds.
I could greatly extend this list, but believe that sufficient has been
narrated to interest and excite the reader.
INTRODUCTION OF BAYONETS INTO THE ARMY.
The first allusion to bayonets in the English army is contained in the
following extract from a warrant bearing date 2nd of April, 1672:--
"CHARLES R.--Our will and pleasure is that the Regiment of
Dragoones which we have established and ordered to be raised
in twelve troopes of fourscore in each, besides officers,
who are to be under the command of Our most deare and most
entirely beloved Cousin, Prince Rupert, shall be armed out
of Our stores, remaining within Our office of the Ordinance,
as followeth: that is to say, three corporalls, two
sergeants, the gentlemen at armes, and twelve souldiers of
each of the said twelve troopes, are to have and carry each
of them one halbard, and one case of pistolls with holsters;
and the rest of the souldiers of the several troopes
aforesaid, are to have and to carry each of them one
matchlocke musket with a collar of bandaliero, and also to
have and to carry one bayonet or great knive. That each
lieutenant have and carry one partizan, and that two drums
be delivered out for each Troope of the said Regiment."
When bayonets were first introduced, and for years afterwards, they were
made to fit into the muzzle by a screw, and after the men had exhausted
all their ammunition, they would then fit them in and use them as
knives. This new weapon soon became a great favourite with our men. At
length the bayonet was fastened with a socket, which enabled the muzzle
to be left clear for firing. The following is from Grose's Military
Antiquities:--"In one of the campaigns of King William III in Flanders,
in an engagement, there were three French Regiments present, whose
bayonets were made to fix after the present fashion. One of them
advanced against the 25th King's Own Borderers, with fixed bayonets; the
commander at once ordered his men to screw their bayonets into their
muzzles to receive them. But to his great surprise, when they came
within a short distance, the French threw in a heavy fire, which for a
time staggered his people, who by no means expected such a greeting, not
conscious how it was possible to fire with fixed bayonets; but our
people soon recovered themselves and closed upon the enemy, and almost
destroyed them to a man." Almost all the battles that have been fought
for the last 200 years on land, have been decided by that never-failing
weapon. Artillery have been baffled, cavalry have been laughed at, but
the bayonet in the hands of a Briton has proved itself too much for both
black and white. Every battle in the Peninsula, from Roliça to Toulouse,
was decided by that weapon; every fortress was taken with it. Sebastopol
defied all the fire of Artillery; the bayonet had to do, and did, what
shot and shell could not. And the late go-in in Egypt has again proved
that, in the hands of determined men, it is an unconquerable weapon;
they may well call it the "queen of weapons." One of the most desperate
contests that ever was fought between man and man was at Albuera, 16th
May, 1811, and it was decided by the bayonet, the enemy being routed
from the field. As the great military historian, Sir W. Napier, says,
"This battle was to all human appearance lost; our Artillery were in the
hands of the enemy, the Cavalry riding all over the hill, spearing the
wounded, and cutting down all that resisted. The retreat had been
ordered by our Commander, Lord Beresford, but there was one on the
field endowed with the heart of a lion and the eye of an eagle; this was
the late Lord Hardinge, then Captain Hardinge, and Aide-de-Camp to
Marshal Beresford--he rode up to General the Hon. L. Cole, and ordered
him to advance with his brigade, and thus redeem the fortune of the day,
that all thought to be lost. The General, supposing that the order was
from the Commander, at once put his Fusiliers in motion; they consisted
of two battalions of the 7th Royal Fusiliers, and two of the 23rd Royal
Welsh Fusiliers. Such a line--such a gallant line--issuing from the
smoke, and rapidly separating itself from the confused and broken
multitude, startled the enemy's heavy masses, which were increasing and
pressing forward as to an assured victory. The Fusiliers wavered,
hesitated, and then, after vomiting a storm of fire, endeavoured to
enlarge their front, while a fearful discharge of grape from the enemy's
guns whistled through their ranks. The Colonel of the 7th (Myers) fell
dead, the Officers fell thick, and the Fusilier battalions, struck by
the iron tempest, reeled and staggered like drunken men. Suddenly and
sternly recovering, they closed on their terrible enemies, and then was
seen with what majesty the British soldier fights. In vain did Soult, by
voice and gesture, animate his Frenchmen. In vain did the hardiest
veterans extricate themselves from the crowded columns, and sacrifice
their lives to gain time for the mass to open out on such a fair field.
In vain did the mass bear itself up, and, fiercely striving, fire
indiscriminately on friend and foe; while the cavalry, hovering on their
flanks, threatened to charge the advancing line. Nothing could stop our
astonishing infantry; no sudden burst of undisciplined valour, no
nervous enthusiasm weakened the stability of their order; their flashing
eyes were bent on the dark columns in front, their measured tread shook
the ground, their dreadful volleys swept away the head of every
formation, their deafening shouts overpowered the cries that broke from
all parts of the crowd, as foot by foot, and with a horrid carnage, it
was driven, by the vigour of the attack, to the edge of the hill. In
vain did the French reserves join the struggling multitude, endeavouring
to sustain the fight; their efforts only increased the confusion, and
the mighty mass, like a loosened cliff, went headlong down the hill. The
rain flowed after in streams discoloured with blood, and 1,500 unwounded
men, the remnant of 6,000 unconquerable British soldiers, stood
triumphant on that fatal hill." Such was the advance of the Fusilier
Brigade; everything was carried by the bayonet. The whole French Army on
the field was swept off that fatal hill. But, to add to the horror of
the scene, at the close of the day our Artillery were compelled to
gallop over everything as they came past, with blood, brains, and human
hair upon their hoofs and wheels. They were compelled to ride over the
poor wounded, deaf to the cries of the brave fellows there laid
prostrate in the dust. Reader, what a scene! But such is war. This fight
had a wonderful effect upon the French, and, ever after that, they
approached the British Infantry with a secret feeling oi distrust, for
these never knew when they were beaten. Wellington, who came up with the
remainder of the army shortly afterwards, said "This victory will be as
good as 10,000 men to me."[29]
But the following is, without doubt, the crowning and most daring,
dashing, and dare-devil bit of work that ever took place: there is
nothing in military records to compare with it. The regiments that so
nobly upheld the honour of old England were the 5th Northumberland
Fusiliers and 77th Foot. It was at El Bodón, on the 24th September,
1811. It was not called a battle; our people were retiring to take up a
position, and the commander of the French, thought of either destroying
or capturing them before assistance could be brought up. But the Lion
was in their path. Their Cavalry repeatedly came thundering on, and our
little band was completely surrounded; but they kept sending a sheet of
fire into their assailants; our handful of Cavalry charged them at least
twenty times; our guns mowed them down with grape, but still the brave
sons of France came on, squadron after squadron. Our danger was now
imminent; our guns were in the hands of the enemy; the Artillery had
been cut down; our handful of Cavalry had been routed or destroyed. One
man, a dashing soldier--Major H. Ridge, of the Fusiliers--rushed boldly
into the midst of the French Cavalry with his Fusiliers; all was left to
the bayonet; the 77th nobly took the hint, and on they went too, with
their comrades, in a desperate headlong charge. It was Infantry charging
Cavalry, with that never-failing weapon, the bayonet. The enemy were
routed from the field and our guns re-taken. They were thunderstruck,
and could hardly believe it; they once more collected themselves, and
came down like lightning upon these devoted regiments; but were again
met with that nasty piece of cold steel, and thus these two noble
regiments held their own until assistance came up. The enemy had been
baffled at all points. Wellington might well thank them for their
conduct.
To enumerate all the noble deeds that have been done by the aid of the
weapon that King Charles II. introduced, in 1672, would be a matter of
almost impossibility; all enemies have trembled before it when in the
hands of Britons. It made the greatest General and Conqueror of Europe
tremble on the field of Waterloo, when he saw his Old Guard[30] driven
back by ours and the 52nd; they had been victorious in a hundred
fights, but even they, grim-faced veterans as they were, had to bow
before the British conquering bayonet.
Let us do justice, and give honour to whom honour is due. Some of the
most desperate deeds have been performed in all ages by our thin red
line, and the proudest and haughtiest of Adam's race have had to give up
the palm to our matchless Infantry. In the hour of need it has been
repeatedly proved--whether in the midst of the raging billows of the
fathomless ocean, or on land when opposed by mounted squadrons
glittering in steel-clad armour, or when manning field guns or heavy
ordnance, or storming the deadly breaches--that all, Europeans or
Asiatics, have had to acknowledge the sons of Albion, side by side with
the heroic sons of the Emerald Isle, the bravest of the brave.
The following will, perhaps, startle some of my readers; but facts are
stubborn things, and stronger than fiction. During the battle of Fuentes
de Oñoro, fought May 3rd and 5th, 1811, our Cavalry had to give way
before the overwhelming steel-clad squadrons of France, and Captain
Norman Ramsay's battery of Horse Artillery was cut off, through not
obeying his instructions. The French Cuirassiers were checked in mad
career, and squadron after squadron rolled up by our Infantry, that had,
to all appearance, taken root in the earth. But the gallant Norman
Ramsay and the whole of his battery, were prisoners of war. To quote
the fiery language of Napier, "Suddenly a great commotion was observed
in the main body of the enemy. Men and horses were seen to close, with
confusion and tumult, towards one point; there was a thick dust and loud
cries, sparkling of sword-blades and flashing of pistols, indicating
some extraordinary occurrence; when suddenly the multitude became
violently agitated; an English shout of triumph pealed high and clear;
the mass of the enemy was rent asunder, and lo, Captain Norman Ramsay
burst forth, sword in hand, at the head of his battery, his horses
breathing fire, stretched like greyhounds along the plain, the guns
bounding behind them like things of no weight, and the mounted gunners
following close, with heads bent low and pointed weapons, in desperate
career." This conduct of the gallant Ramsay, and his no less willing
troopers, completely bewildered the enemy, as he dashed through them and
at once brought his guns into action to support our hard-pressed
Cavalry.
The conquering sword of Wellington was in the ascendant. The hitherto
victorious legions of France had been taught some awkward lessons. On
the fields of Roliça, Vimiera, Busaco, Corunna, at the Douro, at the
lines of Torres Vedras, on the memorable fields of Talavera, grim
Busaco's iron ridge, and on the field of Fuentes de Oñoro, Napoleon's
maxim was again and again verified, viz., that moral strength in war is
to physical strength as three to one. He that had subdued the whole
continent of Europe proved, on the memorable field of Waterloo, the
truth of his own maxim, for our Cavalry on that field rode through and
through his veterans, though mounted and clad in glittering steel, and
even the grim-faced Old Guards had to bow before our conquering swords
and bayonets, directed by the master-mind of the conqueror of Assaye.
"Nothing could stop the astonishing Infantry!" I feel a soldier's pride
in again jotting down this line, as the words have reference to the
headlong charge of the Royal Fusiliers and the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, in
chasing the whole French army off the blood-stained Heights of Albuera,
with the bayonet. But all the brave sons of Albion were not in those two
noble regiments--the 3rd Buffs, the 31st, and the 57th, nobly stood
forth; while the 3rd and 57th died almost to a man, so to speak, and
then would not yield. It was on this field that the 57th gained their
present nickname (the "die-hards"). Their Colonel, noticing the
overwhelming numbers of the enemy all around them, called out in a voice
of thunder, "Fifty-seventh, let us die hard;" and so they did. The
battle only lasted four hours, but out of 580 that they went into action
with, they left upon the field, 22 officers and 430 men. The Buffs were
almost annihilated, but they would not give in.[31] Fifteen thousand
poor fellows lay upon that dreadful field, and nearly all had fallen by
the bayonet. It was the thin red line that decided the battle. Again,
the bayonet decided the field of Barossa, the 87th Royal Irish Fusiliers
ending it in a very summary way, with a headlong charge, led on by
Colonel Gough (afterwards Field-Marshal Lord Gough). Almost every battle
that Lord Wellington fought, in India, Spain, Portugal, France, and the
Netherlands, was decided by that nasty little bit of cold steel. At
Inkermann, if the enemy had not fired a shot, but simply marched on,
they would have walked over us--weight of numbers would have done it;
but there again the ugly cold steel stood in the way. Not all the
persuading of their princes or officers, high and low, could induce them
to come on and finish us off; they wanted to stand and fire at us, but
did not like to have any closer acquaintance with us. But that would not
do; they would have shot down every man of us; so we kept going at them,
and giving them hints that we did not require them in our camp. At
length, with a desperate charge, a very great number (from 2,000 to
4,000) were hurled over a precipice, almost perpendicular, and perished.
It was the Zouaves, side by side with our people, who put them over this
nasty place; or they must have been mobbed over by their own comrades in
trying to avoid our conquering bayonets. After peace was proclaimed, I
went into the Valley of the Tchernaya, and, true enough, there they lay
in hundreds--they had never been buried. Some of our men found medals
still hanging to their clothing. The bones of many of them had been
bleached, but still lay there--evidences of the horrors of war.
Sebastopol, after 1,600,000 shot and shell had been fired at it, had to
be carried by the bayonet, and it was done with a terrible slaughter.
Lucknow, after having been twice relieved, was finally taken by that
never-failing weapon. The supremacy of Old England has frequently been
left in the hands of a few desperate men. Our power in the far East has
in more than one or two instances trembled in the balance. This was the
case on the memorable field of Ferozeshah, December 21-2, 1845; but it
was in the hands of men who knew how to die. Lord Gough commanded, well
supported by the hero of Albuera--Lord Hardinge, and that Christian
hero, Havelock, was there encouraging his men. All had to be left to the
bayonet to shift the Sikhs from their formidable intrenchments. Again
the supremacy of Old England hung in the balance on the heights in front
of Delhi. But at the deadly breach, at the Cashmere Gate, that ugly
piece of cold steel again settled all. It was too much for the
black-hearted murderers of defenceless women and children, although they
knew they had no mercy to expect. At Tel-el-Kebir, the Egyptians were
soon shifted by the same means, and the trenches and batteries that they
had thrown up with so much labour were made a little too hot for them.
In fact it is as I have repeatedly called it, the "queen of weapons,"
and will be so as long as we have an enemy to face.
COURAGE DOES NOT COURT DANGER NEEDLESSLY.
A valiant man
Ought not to undergo or court a danger,
But worthily, and by selected ways,
He undertakes by reason, not by chance.
His valour is the salt t'his other virtues
They're all unseasoned without it.
_Johnson._
This chapter could be extended to the dimensions of a large volume. Our
forefathers have repeatedly stood as conquerors on many a hard-fought
field. Battles have been lost by bad generalship or by reason of the
overwhelming numbers of the enemy, and then won back by determined
pluck. And surely it could be said of those who fought on the memorable
fields of Alma, Balaclava, and Inkermann, that they had not degenerated
from those who fought and conquered under the great dukes of Marlborough
and Wellington! The same may be said of those who upheld England's
honour, under Nelson, Gough, Brown, Picton, Crawford, Campbell, Raglan,
Evans, Burgoyne, Graham, Jones, Havelock, Lake, Baird, Olpherts,
Windham, Hodson, and Hills. And, reader, we have now as good men to lead
us as ever our forefathers had; a number of them have already shown to
the world the metal they are made of, and--
That nothing could daunt, nothing dismay,
These island warriors of this day
Through all the changes of the fray,
No matter how the battle sped,
Unbroken stands that line of red,
Majestically firm.
That conquering thin line,
Yea, that line of red that never yields!
Victorious on two hundred fields.
DESPERATE DEFENCES OF COLOURS.
At the battle of Dettingen, 27th June, 1743, Cornet Richardson, of
Legonier's Horse, now the 7th Dragoon Guards, carried one of the
standards. He was surrounded by the enemy, and called upon to surrender;
but refused, and received upwards of thirty sabre cuts and shots in his
body. The standard was much damaged, but with manly fortitude, and with
the soul of a hero, he succeeded in cutting his way through a host that
threatened his destruction. This dashing young officer recovered from
his wounds, and was presented by King George II. with the standard he
had so nobly defended.
* * * * *
In the action at Rusheck, 18th May, 1794, Private Michael Mancely, of
the 8th Royal Irish Hussars, received several wounds while defending the
standard of his regiment; although desperately wounded, he retained
possession of it; his horse was killed under him, and he then defended
himself and his standard on foot. He managed to carry it off and hand it
over to one of his officers, and then lay down and died.
* * * * *
I must here give a brief account of the heroic defence of the colours of
the 3rd Buffs on the field of Albuera. Ensign Walsh prevented the
colours of his regiment from being taken at this battle. The staff was
broken by a cannon ball, and the young hero, dangerously wounded, was
left on the field for dead. He had more thought for his precious charge
than for his life; and, with what little strength he had remaining, he
tore the flag from the broken staff and concealed it in his bosom, next
his heart, where, next day, when his wounds were being dressed, it was
found. The other colour of the regiment was defended and preserved in
the following heroic manner. The Sergeants who defended the colour were
all shot down, and the enemy's Hussars surrounded the officer, Ensign
Thomas, who carried it. He was called upon to give up his charge, but
that noble son of Albion's answer was "Never but with my life," and his
life was the forfeit of his refusal, but he lived long enough to know
that the colour was eventually preserved. It was re-taken from the enemy
in the headlong charge of the 7th Royal Fusiliers, which charge
supported by the 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers changed the fortune of the
day. Sergeant Gough, of the 7th Royal Fusiliers, was the man who re-took
the standard, for which he received a commission, but the chief honour
is due to Lieutenant Latham, of the Buffs; he saw the danger of this
colour being borne off in triumph from the field by the enemy, and his
whole soul being alive to the honour of his Corps, he ran forward to
protect it. The devoted officer who had defended it was lying apparently
dead. Lieutenant Latham arrived at the spot in time to seize the colour,
and defended it with heroic gallantry, surrounded by a crowd of
assailants, each of whom wanted the honour of capturing it; the
Lieutenant, bleeding fast from wounds received in defending his precious
charge, armed only with his sword, refused to yield. A French Hussar,
seizing the flag-staff and rising in his stirrups, aimed a blow at the
gallant Latham, which failed in cutting him down, but sadly mutilated
him, severing one side of his face and nose. Although thus wounded his
resolute spirit did not shrink, but he continued the struggle with the
French horsemen, and as they endeavoured to drag the colour from him, he
exclaimed, "I will surrender it only with my life." Another sabre stroke
severed his left arm and hand, in which he held the staff, from his
body. He then dropped his sword, and seizing the staff with his right
hand continued the struggle, until he was thrown down, trampled upon,
and pierced with lances. At this moment the British Cavalry came up, and
the French fled. Then on came thundering "the astonishing Infantry," the
Fusilier brigade; inch by inch, and foot by foot, these heroic regiments
gained the blood-stained heights, and thus redeemed the fortune of the
day, which all beside thought lost. It was the present General Sir A.
Hardinge's father who led that noble brigade, but more of that in its
place. The gallant Latham recovered from his wounds and lived for many
years after. The officers of the Buffs, in recognition of his bravery
and fortitude, presented this noble hero with a gold medal, worth one
hundred guineas, on which the preservation of the colour by Lieutenant
Latham was represented, with the motto "_I will surrender it only with
my life_," and Lieutenant Latham had Royal authority to accept and wear
it.
BATTLE OF ALBUERA.
When all his comrades fell around,
The gallant Ensign kept his ground;
"Your Standard yield," the Frenchman cried;
Brave Thomas answered "No," and died.
Walsh, when he felt the hostile dart,
Preserved the colours next his heart,
And as he sank, by wounds oppressed,
Still held them closer to his breast.
The colours of the Grenadier Guards had a narrow escape at Inkermann,
where this distinguished Regiment fought desperately. Only about forty
men were left to defend the colours against a host, but with a ringing
cheer they forced their way through a mass of the enemy at the point of
the bayonet, and down the hill they had to go again.
* * * * *
Colours of British Regiments have been lost, but only when all who
defended them had fallen. The noble 24th lost their's in fighting the
Zulus, at Isandlwana, but every man died first. I could mention hundreds
of cases, both by sea and land, to prove how desperately the colours of
our native isle have been defended in the past. The same spirit of
devotion yet lives, and I have not the slightest hesitation in saying
that, should occasions arise in the future, British Soldiers will ever
show themselves worthy to sustain the best traditions of their regiments
and their country.
DESPERATE DEFENCES OR HEROIC STANDS BY SMALL GARRISONS.
During the period when Prince Charles Edward was attempting to recover
for his father the throne of his ancestors, Sergeant Molloy, of the 6th
Foot, defended the small fort of Ruthven, and the following letter from
that veteran, who had only a garrison of twelve men, is a curiosity of
war. It was addressed to the then Commander-in-Chief in Scotland:--
Ruthven Redoubt, 30th August, 1745.
Honourable General,
This goes to acquaint you that yesterday there appeared in
this little town about three hundred of the enemy, who sent
and demanded me to surrender this Redoubt, upon condition
that I should have liberty to carry off bag and baggage. My
answer was, "I am too old a soldier to surrender a garrison
of such strength without bloody noses." They threatened to
hang me and my whole garrison for refusal. I told them that
"I would take my chance; I had no rope, but plenty of shot
and powder." They attacked foregate and sally port, and
attempted to set fire to gate, but all that came near I
managed to drop, and they paid heavily for their attempt.
They went off this afternoon westward, promising to give me
another look up, but I will give them a warm reception if
they attempt it, and will hold out as long as I have aught
to eat.
* * * * *
The heroic defence that General Elliott made at Gibraltar, in 1781,
against the united fleets and armies of France and Spain, was the
admiration of the whole of Europe. The old "Silly Suffolk" Regiment (the
12th) was one of the four Regiments composing that heroic band that set
Spain and France at defiance.
* * * * *
But the most glorious defence on record is that made by a noble band at
Lucknow, from June 30th until September 26th, 1857, when relieved by
Havelock. To go into the details of that defence is beyond the province
of this book, but I feel I must say a little about it. No one in old
England can form any idea of the sufferings of this pent-up little
garrison. The heat was almost intolerable; cholera was raging in the
midst of them, their numbers daily becoming less and less; and thousands
of fiends surrounded them panting for their blood. Such was the
situation for months of some hundreds of poor defenceless women and
children, with only a handful of men to defend them; there was no part
of the Residency safe for one minute. Week in and week out, for three
long months, and that in the worst part of the year in India, death in a
thousand shapes confronted this heroic band, yet they nobly fought on.
They had heard that relief was on the way, but oh, dear, why did it not
come? All India must know the state they were in; the people in England
even must know of their condition, but yet no help appeared. They had
heard the guns of that noble Christian soldier, Havelock, and thought
that the hour of deliverance had come, but day after day passed, and no
help was visible. The little garrison still fought on desperately,
repulsing all the attacks of the bloodthirsty fiends who would have cut
the unfortunate helpless creatures to pieces. But a merciful God was
watching over them. Havelock, with his small but courageous army, once
more, on the 20th September, started from Cawnpore for their relief, and
soon the poor half-starved and miserable forms of humanity could
distinctly hear the guns pounding away at the enemy, when all at once
they caught a glimpse of their deliverers. The scene is almost beyond
description, as the gallant Highlanders, rough, long-bearded,
determined-looking men, dashed into the midst of them. The following is
an extract from the diary of one of the ladies who was present at the
Relief:--"I shall never forget the moment as long as I live. We had no
idea that deliverance was so close; we could distinctly hear the
cheering of our men and the Highland Pipers, and all at once we found
ourselves in the arms of big, rough-bearded soldiers; they seized the
dear little ones out of our arms, and kissed them over and over again,
with tears rolling down their cheeks, and thanked God that they had come
in time to save them from the fate of those at Cawnpore." The loss on
our side had been heavy, the gallant Neill had met a soldier's death
just at the gates of the Residency, and close upon 600 men were killed.
Our people had fought their way in, but, alas, the hoped-for relief had
not yet come. They were again hemmed in, and there had to remain until
ultimately relieved by Sir Colin Campbell. The strength of the besieged
was now, however, greatly augmented, and they made the enemy keep at a
respectful distance. It was no longer such desperate work as the gallant
32nd and a company or two of the 84th had passed through. A few loyal
men of the 13th, 48th, and 71st Native Infantry, materially aided in
this defence. They were afterwards formed into a Regiment, and called
the Lucknow Regiment. The Government at once rewarded them, each
individual man being presented with the Indian Order of Merit, which
carries with it five shillings per month for life. These men had proved
themselves worthy to fight beside the bravest of the brave--they had
been worth their weight in gold to that noble little garrison.
A DESPERATE STAND.
Elephants have been used in war by the moderns as well as the ancients;
they were employed by Tippoo Sahib, armed with chains, with which, when
wounded, they were not at all particular, for they killed both friend
and foe.
* * * * *
The following has no comparison in the annals of war. It was an attack
at Perambankum, on the 6th September, 1780, by Hyder-Ali, upon a force
commanded by Colonel Baillie. Lieut.-Colonel Baillie could make but a
feeble resistance against so superior a force, but his little band yet
gallantly kept them at bay until their ammunition for the field guns
began to run short. Hyder's guns upon this drew nearer and nearer, while
each shot was attended with deadly effect; the enemy now advanced on all
sides to a close attack; the blacks deserted us, and the little band
united--both infantry and artillery--and planted themselves upon a small
mound or sand-bank, and there resolved to defend themselves to the
last. Their numbers were now reduced to 500; and they were opposed by no
fewer than 100,000 enraged barbarians, who never grant quarter. In
trying to picture such a scene and such a situation as their's was, the
mind is at once filled with horror and with awe. Formidable bodies of
horse, infantry, artillery, and elephants, advanced from all quarters.
Distinct bodies of cavalry would advance, but the well-timed roll of
musketry from the little band had a powerful effect upon them, and their
attacks were driven back again and again, while fresh columns kept
advancing. At last the fearful struggle was marked by the clashing of
arms and shields, the snapping of spears, the glistening of bloody
swords, horses kicking, the groans of the mutilated men, wounded horses
falling upon expiring men, and the roaring of the elephants, stalking
about and wielding their chains against friends and foes. That was how
the present 71st Highlanders were situated. They acquitted themselves
nobly, and well earned the word "Hindoostan," which they bear upon their
colours.
THE 52ND LIGHT INFANTRY.
During the winter of 1775, plays were acted in Boston twice a week by
the officers and some ladies. On one occasion a farce called the
"Blockade of Boston," was presented; the enemy knew the night it was to
be performed and made an attack on the mill at Charlestown, at the very
hour the farce began; they fired some shots, and surprised and carried
off a Sergeant's Guard. Our men immediately turned out and manned the
works. An orderly sergeant standing outside the playhouse door, and who
heard the firing, immediately ran into the playhouse, got upon the
stage, crying out with all his might, "Turn out, turn out, they are
hard at it, hammers and tongs." The whole audience, supposing the
sergeant was acting a part in the farce, loudly applauded. When the
applause was over he again cried out, "What are you all about? If you do
not believe me, you need only go to the door, and there ye'll hear and
see both." If the enemy intended to stop the farce they certainly
succeeded. All immediately left the playhouse, and the officers joined
their Regiments.
THE OLD SUFFOLK REGIMENTS.
These have been good loyal corps for many years. At Minden, 1st August,
1759, the 12th routed the French off the field with the bayonet,
although the odds were heavy against them. At Gibraltar they took a
noble part in its defence, and in the end came off conquerors, although
there were enough around them, both of French and Spaniards, to eat
them, but the bayonet stood in the way. At Seringapatam, they taught the
Sultan Tippoo Sahib (not how to make hard "dumplins, bor"), but how to
respect our flag. The Suffolk Regiment took a leading part in the
storming of that exceedingly strong and rich fortress. Not a shot did
the British fire, when the noble old commander, Colonel Baird, called
out in a voice of thunder, "Now, my lads, follow me, and prove
yourselves worthy of the name of British soldiers;" history can prove
that the old East Suffolk Regiment, the 12th, nobly responded. He again
called out to his men "All must be done with the bayonet," and in they
went, and in a few short hours the richest fortress that ever was taken
by storm lay at the conquerors' feet. The old 12th led the way, Tippoo
Sahib was killed, but not by eating hard dumplings. He was one of the
bitterest foes that we ever had in India. It was he who said he would
rather live the life of a tiger one year, than one hundred that of a
Christian. This regiment has seen a great deal of service in India, and
is one of the few regiments that has on its colours the word "India." It
had some desperate fighting along the Malabar coast, from 1808 until
1810; sometimes they were completely overwhelmed with numbers, but never
beaten, on one occasion they fought for an entire day, with the odds of
twenty-five to one, and then with a desperate charge, front rank going
one way and rear rank the other, they routed the enemy. Surely there are
as good men in old Suffolk now, as there were in 1808! As for the other
Suffolk Regiment, I had the pleasure of fighting side by side with them
at the Alma, at Inkermann, and throughout the siege of Sebastopol, and
can testify that they there proved to the world that they are second to
none. The old 63rd, or West Suffolk, did not lose anything like as many
as most regiments in the Crimea from the enemy; but with hardships and
sickness they were nearly all destroyed, while the few who were left
were sent down to Balaclava, in the beginning of 1855. The present 63rd,
or West Suffolk Regiment, was formerly the 2nd battalion of the 8th
Regiment, and as such did good service in Flanders, Spain, Portugal, and
India, and, in fact, all over the world.
ENGLAND NOT A MILITARY NATION?
It is difficult to understand whence the parrot-cry could have arisen
that England was not a military nation. Not a military nation! when her
annals are illustrated with a catalogue of victories gained over every
people in the civilised world--over France, herself the conqueror of
Europe; over sturdy Germany, phlegmatic Holland, chivalrous Spain, and
the fanatic hosts of India and China. Not a military nation! when her
sons have given some of the most eminent proofs of courage, activity,
industry, passion for the service, their whole life seeming to breathe
for nothing but fame and the glory of the flag they love so well. Not a
military nation! when she has produced a Marlborough, a Nelson, a
Wellington, and a Clyde, and hundreds of other heroes, so eminent in
fame that we may challenge the world with no unjustifiable pride to find
their equals. It may more truly be said that England is not a _warlike_
nation. She fights not for ideas, nor for the lust of conquest; she
values peace, and bears much and forbears much, to avoid the naked
horrors of war; but when once she has girded on the sword in a just
cause, woe be to the enemy that dares to meet her steel, for
We not now
Fight for how long, how broad, how great and large
The extent and bounds of the purple Rome shall be,
But to retain what our noble ancestors left us.
So Huzzah! Huzzah! death or victory.
THE WIVES AT HOME.
Hurrah and hurrah for the soldiers that go
With a laugh and a smile o'er the foam!
Hurrah for the glad hearts that leap at the foe,
But alas for the sad hearts at home!
Hurrah for the flash and the crash of the guns,
The clash of the sabres, the madness of strife
Hurrah and hurrah for Britain's brave sons,
But alas for each mother and wife!
Hurrah for the battle well fought and well won
Hurrah for the vanquished who sleep!
Hurrah for the victors whose life-work is done,
But alas for the widows who weep!
CHAPTER XI.
The Great Book--Mysteries of Providence--The Gift of a Bible
and what it led to--The Secrets of the Sacred
Shrine--Opinions of a Native Hindoo Priest.
THE GREAT BOOK.
Hail, sacred volume of eternal truth,
Thou staff of age, thou guide of wand'ring youth;
Thou art the prize that all who run shall win,
Thou the sole shield against the darts of sin:
Thou giv'st the weary rest, the poor man wealth,
Strength to the weak, and to the dying health.
Lead me, my King, my Saviour, and my God!
Thro' all those paths Thy sainted servants trod;
Teach me Thy two-fold nature to explore,
Copy the human--the Divine adore;
To wait with patience, live in hope and fear,
And walk between presumption and despair;
Then shall thy blood wash out the stains of guilt,
That not in vain for me, e'en me, was spilt.
_Jones._
Buy the truth, and sell it not; also wisdom, and instruction, and
understanding.--_Prov. xxiii._ 23.
People of England, rally for your right,
Have you no title to the common air?
Have you no liberty to use the light?
These both are yours--and you shall freely share
The holiest gift, this Gospel, if you will
Keep it inviolate and sacred still.
_Jones._
THE MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE.
The following incident will prove God's loving faithfulness, that He
uses even the ungodly to fulfil His purposes, and that
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform.
Ask of me, and I shall give _thee_ the heathen for thine
inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth _for_ thy
possession.--_Psalm ii. 8._
In the latter end of 1863, I was engaged in the Afghan Campaign, at the
Umbeyla Pass. As soon as the enemy was subdued, the army broke up, and
the regiments marched to their respective stations. The Royal Fusiliers
found themselves encamped on, or close to, the memorable field of
Goojerat,[32] in the midst of mounds where lay buried the dead, both
friend and foe. One day I was sitting outside my tent reading, when some
eight or ten Native boys, respectably and cleanly clad, approached me,
and, to my utter astonishment, saluted me with a homely "Good evening,
sir," in plain English. Addressing one of the elder boys, I said: "Well,
my boy, and where did you learn to speak English?" "Oh, we've got a
large school in the city, sir." "And where do you get your teachers
from?" "From England, sir." "And do they interfere with your religion
(or caste), my boy?" "No, sir. We receive a good education, and when we
can pass a certain examination, are sent off to college, and from that
into all kinds of Government offices." The boy who had been the chief
spokesman appeared to be a bright little fellow of about fourteen years.
He came sideling up to me, as a child would who wanted to obtain a
favour from his father. Looking me full in the face, he stated that one
of their Native monitors had got an Old Book containing a great deal
about a man who lived some 1800 years ago--One who opened the eyes of
the blind, unstopped the deaf ears, cured the leprous, raised the dead,
and did a number of very wonderful things; "and" added the boy, "you
Christians believe that He was the Son of God." And then, with a
pleading look, such as none but an East Indian or an old practitioner
could assume, he said: "We are all poor boys, sir, and have no money. If
you have got an Old Book of that kind by you, we should be very thankful
for it." Knowing well the prejudice of the Native mind, I said, "Why,
boy, what would you do with it if you had one? If you took it home and
read it, your father would beat you and burn the book." "But, sir, we
would not take it home; we would take it out into the jungle (or wood),
and read it there, and hide it under the leaves when we had done
so."[33] The words of the poor boy struck deeply into my heart, and it
appeared as though a voice whispered in my ears, "The heathen shall rise
in judgment against you," which almost brought tears to my eyes. I
immediately gave orders to my bâtman (or servant) to open one of the
Company's boxes, for I was then the Pay Sergeant, and knew well that I
had several small Bibles in the said box. When the top layer of books
was taken off, and the poor boys got a look into the box, they exclaimed
in rapture, while their little black eyes glistened again, "Those are
the books, sir, those are the books." Picking out one of the books, and
looking the spokesman full in the face, I said, "Now, my boy, what will
you do with this if I give it you? You say you have no money." His
answer was "Take it out in the jungle and study it, sir." I immediately
presented the book to the boy; and as long as memory lasts I shall never
forget his grateful look, as he exclaimed, "Thank you, sir, and God
bless you!" The remainder of the boys congregated around him to look at
the book, and then left him to have another look into the box; but none
of them spoke, although their eager looks indicated their desire to
become possessed of a copy of their own. I then asked them if they could
all read English, and being answered in the affirmative, presented them
each with a copy. The poor boys almost cried with joy; each had a good
look at his book, and returned me many thanks for my kindness, with
fervent exclamations of "God bless you, sir," and "Good evening." They
then clapped the books under their chuddas (or clothing) and ran out of
the camp. After they had gone I thought what a subject this incident
afforded for reflection. There were the poor heathen boys, who had
promiscuously heard of the word, reading a lesson to me who had been
cradled in Christianity. I felt I dared not go to the Sergeant's Mess
that night, so I walked about meditating, surrounded by the mounds of
the dead; the still small voice continually whispering, "The heathen
shall rise in judgment against you." We marched away next morning, and
year after year rolled on, and found me still a faithful servant of the
devil--led captive by him at his will--although looked upon as a good
moral man, and a steady non-commissioned officer.
We will now pass over a period of ten years, coming to 1874, when I was
Garrison Sergeant-Major of Allahabad. There was a very stringent order
that no native (whatever his rank or position might be) should be
allowed upon the ramparts of the fort, unless accompanied by myself, or
some one I deputed. Not that they could do the heavy guns or ramparts
any harm; but some of them had proved themselves mischievous by picking
up the shot to feel the weight of it, and instead of putting it back
again had trundled it through the port-hole. This would endanger the
lives of any who might be walking around the ditch of the fortification.
One morning early, I was walking around the interior of the fort in
course of duty, when I espied some eight or ten respectable-looking
Natives upon the ramparts. I could not well get at them, but addressed
them and cursed them in their own language, threatening to break their
heads for trespassing. One of the party immediately replied in English,
stating that they had come from distant parts of the country, and had
often heard of this renowned fort, being the spot from which the late
Christian soldier, General Havelock, had started to relieve the poor
unfortunates shut up in Cawnpore and Lucknow. He further stated that
they did not know that they were trespassing, and hoped I should not so
far forget myself as to use violence. They completely talked me down;
and by the time I reached them I offered my services to shew them around
the fortifications. I found that they could all speak English, and that
they were educated Native gentlemen, and very ready to converse with me.
I took them all round the fortifications, and then into the interior of
the fort. I then conducted them towards a large underground Hindoo
temple, and was leading the way down the steps into it, when one of them
asked where I was going to take them. I told them into a Hindoo shrine.
They called me back; and one of them, pointing upwards, exclaimed: "Sir,
we worship the only true and living God." I was rather taken aback at
this, but soon collecting myself, requested them to follow me and
partake of some refreshments (meaning spirits), when, to my further
astonishment, they informed me that they were all teetotallers. I was
determined not to be beaten, so I invited them to come to my house, and
partake of tea. coffee, or chocolate. To this they acceded, and while
the refreshments were being made ready, they asked permission to amuse
themselves by looking around the spacious room and at my library. One of
them being attracted by my father's photograph, inquired who this
venerable-looking gentleman might be. Another exclaimed, "What a
clerical appearance he has! who is he?" I informed them that he was my
father. They inquired if he were living; to which I made answer that he
had "gone home." "Home! what do you mean?" said one of them. "Ah! sir,
it strikes me that you know yourself better than to make use of such
language as you did this morning, when you first addressed us." Another
asked, "What was your father, sir?" To which I replied that he had been
a Baptist minister for upwards of fifty years. Tapping me on the
shoulder, one of them rejoined: "Ah, sir, you see religion does not run
in the blood." Some of them admired my library, but remarked that there
was one book they did not see--the Book of Books. I immediately
inquired, in a low tone of voice, of one of my boys, as to where it was.
He informed me, that it was on the top of the book-case. I had to get a
chair to reach it down, and found it covered with dust. They remarked
that the other books were not dusty, and expressed a fear that this one
was not much used. One of them said, "Sir, you do not appear to set so
much store by your Bible, as I do by the first copy I received. You will
excuse me, but I feel I must tell you how I became possessed of it. Some
ten years ago, there had been a war on the North-West frontier. The
regiments or troops were marching back from it. I was then a boy about
fourteen years of age, and, in company with a number of other boys, went
into the camp of a regiment just outside our city (Goojerat). After
strolling about the camp for a short time, some of the men, we found,
seemed delighted to think we could speak English. We approached one of
these stern warriors, whose hands, so to speak, seemed red with the
blood of the Afghans, and your humble servant was the spokesman. We had
determined, if possible, to procure a copy of the Scriptures, but being
poor were unable to pay for it. He put a number of searching questions
to us, and then very kindly presented me with a copy. It caused a little
jealousy in my comrades, but this soon ended by this kind, rough-looking
soldier presenting each of them with a copy, and expressing a hope that
we would study it. We had previously told him that we would hide the
Bibles in the jungle rather than they should be destroyed. And, sir, no
fewer than five of these poor boys are now ministers of the
Gospel--Wesleyans, Baptists, Church of England. We do not all see eye to
eye in point of doctrine, but all use the same language at the Throne of
Grace."
While this good man was talking, it was not an easy matter for me to
control my feelings. I had to do as Joseph of old had done, retire into
another room, and as soon as I could collect myself I returned to them.
He little thought then who he was talking to, and that I was the rough
soldier he had been describing. I asked him if he remembered the number
of the regiment to which the soldier belonged. He replied that he did
not, but had often prayed the Lord to open the warrior's eyes. When I
told them that I was the man, it was too much for them, and they burst
into tears. Five of the party had been the recipients of the books. They
at once rushed at me, and embraced me in native fashion. It was a very
affecting scene, and it completely unmanned me. They then read a portion
of Holy Writ, and engaged in prayer. They inquired if I attended a place
of worship and where. I told them I went to the Baptist chapel
sometimes, under Mr. Anderson's ministry. One of them asked me if I
would come on the following Lord's day, as he was going to speak. I
went; and, to my astonishment, he told the people how and where he got
his first Bible, and that the man who presented it to him was then in
their midst, and was their Garrison Sergeant-Major. This announcement
had a thrilling effect upon the people. As soon as the service was over,
and before I could get out of the chapel, he made his way to me, gave me
a cordial shake of the hand, and expressed a hope that the Lord would
bless me wherever I went. Several years have since passed away, and it
has pleased the Lord to open my blind eyes; and, should my dark friends
and I never meet again here below, I trust we shall meet hereafter in a
brighter world above.
* * * * *
During the time that I was Garrison Sergeant-Major of Allahabad, a
portion of my duty was to superintend the Hindoo pilgrims entering the
Fort for the purpose of worshipping at the before-mentioned Shrine. I
had but little trouble with them, excepting in the month of January and
beginning of February in each year.
On one occasion, having to go to the Bank of Bengal, some of the native
clerks asked me if I would kindly pass them into the Fort if they came
up, without their having to wait at the gate, as they said sometimes
they had to wait for hours before they could get in. My instructions
were to allow only a certain number in at a time. I told them that when
on duty I showed neither partiality nor favour to any; but, as friends,
if they would follow my instructions, they should not have to wait. I
gave them a note to the Sergeant of the Guard, instructing him to admit
them as my friends, and, directed them, when once in the Fort, to drive
to my quarters, and not to attempt to go near the Shrine, but to leave
the remainder to me. Accordingly, a few days afterwards, they drove up
just before sunset. I entertained them as friends and regaled them with
sherry, waiting until the greater portion of the pilgrims had cleared
out, as none were allowed in after sunset. Knowing that they were all
supposed to be intelligent men, I commenced questioning them as to
whether they believed all the silly nonsense about the "bleeding tree."
They answered me in the affirmative; and one or two of them got slightly
ruffled to think I should cast any reflection on their truthful priests.
I could scarcely keep from calling the priests a lot of lying scamps
whose sole object was pice! pice! pice!--money! money! money! The
following was the dialogue that took place, before we went near the
Shrine:--
_Sergeant-Major._--Do you believe in this bleeding tree as you call it,
that grows underground, budding and sprouting every year for the benefit
of your sins?
_Intelligent Natives._--Yes; we do. What we can see we do believe. Now,
sir, as you have chosen to broach the subject of religion, we would ask
you a few questions. Do you believe in your Bible?
_Sergeant-Major._--I do.
_Natives._--Then why don't you act upon it?
I must acknowledge that I was almost dumb-foundered, and hardly knew how
to answer them; but I told them I did not profess anything. I went on to
say that if they would allow me, I could clearly prove to them that they
were jilted by their priests. I then went to my writing desk, and took
an order therefrom which I had prepared for the Sergeant of the Guard,
and which ran as follows:--
Sergeant of the Guard. Pass these people (the priests) into
the Port between the hours of 12 and 2 a.m., with a new tree
for the Shrine, and pass them out of it with an old one.
By order, T. GOWING, Sergeant-Major.
I showed them this order, and asked them what they thought it meant?
They read it over and stated they really could not understand it. One of
them said, "Do you really mean to say, sir, that this holy tree is
changed?" I informed them that it was changed every year; and further,
that the one they were going to worship that evening would be changed
before morning, and I would prove it to them if they would allow me. To
my astonishment they assented to it. The pass to the Sergeant of the
Guard had opened their eyes a little. By this time the pilgrims had all
cleared out of the Fort, and I led my friends up to the Shrine, having
previously sent word to the High Priest (or head rogue) that a party of
native gentlemen were coming up. On approaching the Shrine they were
ordered by the priests, as usual, to take off their boots. I went in
with them, but no notice was taken of me, as I was an infidel. My
friends did all they had to do as faithful Hindoos. Being gentlemen, a
piece of silver had to be deposited by each of them at the foot of each
stone god, until they came to this wonderful tree, and then the priests
would not be satisfied nor bless them until they had each deposited ten
rupees--or one pound--at the roots of the tree. As soon as the ceremony
was over, and the priests gone, I took my friends into the Shrine
again--but we all kept our boots on this time. I took them straight up
to the tree; and, at my suggestion, they marked it in various ways. I
then took them to where I knew the new tree was deposited (in the
precincts of the works of the Fort). All was quiet, and no one near it.
They examined it minutely, and also marked it in such a way that the
priests in the dark would not notice it. I then requested them to come
up on the following evening at the same hour, which they did. As good
Hindoos, they went through the same formalities as on the previous
night. After the priests had cleared out, they examined the tree which
they had been informed had budded and sprouted during the night for the
benefit of their sins; but they found the marks which they had placed
upon the new tree on the preceding night. Thus far they were convinced.
I then took them to a spot close to where the new tree had laid on the
preceding night. Here lay the old tree. They examined it, and discovered
their marks upon it. I found they had each cut their initials, with the
date, and broken small twigs off each tree, which they had no difficulty
in fitting into their respective places. They thanked me for my trouble
and kindness, and declared they would never go near the Shrine any more;
and I believe they kept their word, for they often afterwards joked me
about it. Long before I left Allahabad I learnt that they had embraced
Christianity. Three of them joined the Wesleyan denomination and the
remainder the Baptists, proving themselves (in the strength which God
bestows) steadfast against all persecution. For the information of my
readers I would here state that all Natives embracing Christianity
become total outcasts from their families and former friends, and are
treated by them worse than dogs.
There were between thirty and forty priests attached to this Shrine; and
one of the most intelligent of them, an old man, told me one day (in his
own language) that his trade was fast slipping out of his hands. "I am
an old man" said he "and shall be dead in a short time, and a very good
job too, for I should have no work and no bread. Sahib," continued the
poor old man, "if you would send two or three hundred thousand men into
the country, with arms in their hands, they would not do our trade half
the mischief that your padres do. I can see every day men that used to
come to my Shrine going to your churches and chapels, and their children
will follow them. One hundred years hence there will not be one hundred
Hindoos in India. Your padres get up at the corners of our streets with
a small book in their hands, and they have got plenty of tongue, and
soon all men will believe them." I believe the old man is not far out,
for our Lord Jesus shall reign until He hath put "all enemies under his
feet."
When the Prince of Wales was in India, he visited this sacred shrine,
and I had the honour of escorting him into it, but on this occasion the
priests waived the ceremony of taking off boots.
LIEUT.-GEN. SIR JOHN ELLEY, K.C.B.
The career of this worthy Briton is a proof that merit will sometimes
thrive even under the cold shadow of aristocracy, and that occasionally
the English private, like our gallant neighbours, the French, may carry
a marshal's baton in his knapsack. We trace this noble soldier, for he
was not at all ashamed of his great captain, from the humble position of
a private in the Royal Horse Guards Blue to the honourable position of a
Lieut.-General in our army, and a Knight Companion of the Bath. His
superior ability and attention to his duties early secured for him the
approbation of his superiors. Elley rose rapidly from private to
corporal, from corporal to sergeant, until he obtained a commission in
his own regiment in 1791. Thus thrown into the society of men who
enjoyed the advantage of birth, wealth, and education, he continued to
win their esteem by his admirable conduct. Mr. Elley served in the
campaigns of 1793-4-5, in the Netherlands, and every battle brought him
into more prominent notice. His courage knew no bounds, and was backed
by Christian piety. He was a model soldier. In 1806 he was promoted to a
Lieut.-Colonelcy, and during the Peninsula war acted as Assistant
Adjutant-General of the British cavalry to the entire satisfaction of
his Grace the Duke of Wellington. Colonel Elley was present at the
crowning victory of Waterloo. On that occasion his valour came out in
all its lustre as a trooper and general, and several of Napoleon's
Cuirassiers were cleft to the chin by Elley's stalwart arm. He died full
of years and honours a Lieut.-General and K.C.B. in 1839.
CHAPTER XII.
General Sir Henry Havelock, K.C.B.--Stories of his
Boyhood--Joins the Army--His Military Career--Promotion a
long time in coming--His merits gradually being
recognised--Employed in various important affairs--The
Christian Commander and his Regiment of "Saints"--His
Advance to the Capture of Cawnpore--The Horrible Atrocities
that were Committed by the Mutineers--The Heavy Losses of
the Avenging Army--The Relief of Lucknow--The Closing
Scene--"See How a Christian can Die"--His Death-bed Advice
to his Son--Reflections--The Lessons to be Learned from the
Life of such a Christian Hero--The Loss to the
Country--Lines "In Memoriam"--A Favourite Hymn--"The
Christian's Battle"--"The Martyr's Victory"--"Medals."
[Illustration: GENERAL SIR HENRY HAVELOCK, K.C.B.
(_The Christian Soldier_).]
GENERAL SIR HENRY HAVELOCK, BART.
The subject of this brief sketch was one of the most distinguished
soldiers that ever went forth to battle with his country's foes. He was
born in the county of Durham, 5th April, 1795. Very little is known of
his early life. I have heard a few stories about his boyhood, for which,
however, I cannot vouch, but they are so characteristic of the future
hero of Lucknow that I give some of them here. The first reminds me of
the well-known story of Nelson, as given by Southey, in his life of that
gallant Admiral. The boy Havelock, when about seven or eight years of
age, climbed a high tree in search of a bird's nest; the branch that he
was standing on broke and he fell to the ground the moment that he
had gained his prize. As soon as he recovered consciousness his father
asked him whether he was not frightened, when the branch snapped. "No,"
said the little fellow, "I did not think of being frightened; I had too
much to do thinking of the eggs, for I was sure they would all be
smashed to pieces." The next gives abundant indication of that cool
judgment and forethought, which he afterwards so conspicuously
displayed. When about twelve years of age he saw a dog worrying his
father's sheep. Instead of beating off the brute, as most boys would
have done, he ran to a haystack close by, and pulled out sufficient hay
with which to make a strong band or rope; this he threw round the dog's
neck and fairly choked him, and then flung his carcass into a pond, and
walked off as if nothing had happened. Young Havelock was first destined
for the law, but he got tired of that, and took to the profession of
arms. An elder brother had distinguished himself in the Peninsula war
and at Waterloo, and Henry, yielding to the military propensities of his
family, endeavoured to obtain a commission. A month after Waterloo, he
was appointed 2nd Lieutenant in the Rifle Brigade, then the 95th
Regiment. His military training was assisted by Captain (afterwards Sir
Harry) Smith, the victor of Aliwal. Havelock served for eight years in
England, Scotland, and Ireland, and then exchanged into the 13th
Regiment, and embarked for India in 1823. Next year the first Burmese
war broke out, and Havelock was appointed Deputy-Assistant
Adjutant-General, and was present at the actions fought during that war
at Napadee, Patanagoh, and Paghan. He was now about the age that Vicars
was when he fell, but long before had been led to see his need of a
Saviour, and was always doing what he could to promote the honour and
glory of his crucified Lord. At the close of this war, in which he was
wounded, he was associated with Captain Lumsden and Dr. Kirk on a
mission to the Court of Ave, and had an audience of the "Golden Foot"
(King), when the treaty of Yandaboo was signed. In 1827, he published
the "History of the Ave Campaign." The 13th did good service in this
campaign; they were nick-named "Havelock's Saints," but when anything
rough was to be done, General Campbell knew well who to send for. On one
occasion a certain distinguished Regiment was told off to storm one of
the enemy's stockades, but, lo, when the time came for them to make the
attack it had to be reported that they were all _drunk_, and could not
move. The General at once said, "Send for Havelock and his Saints, they
are not drunk." The Saints accordingly went at the stockade, and took
it. From my experience I have no hesitation in saying that such men as
these are of the salt of the earth, and the bulwarks of our Nation. They
were all "praying men." "Righteousness exalteth a Nation; but sin is a
reproach to any people."--_Prov. xiv. 34._ These men would heartily
sing:--
Guide me, O thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but thou art mighty,
Hold me with Thy powerful hand.
Shortly afterwards our hero was appointed Adjutant of the Chinsurah
Depôt, but on its breaking up Havelock returned to his Regiment, the
13th. He now spent many happy days in pointing poor sinners to the Lamb
of God. In 1829 he married Miss Hannah Shepherd, a daughter of the Rev.
J. Marshman, D.D., the well-known Baptist missionary, and colleague of
Dr. Carey. In 1838 he obtained his Company, after serving twenty-three
years as a subaltern. An army was now collected for the invasion of
Afghanistan, and Captain Havelock accompanied it, on the staff of Sir W.
Cotton. He went through the first Afghan campaign, was present at the
storming of Ghuznee and the occupation of Cabul, and then returned to
India, where he shortly afterwards printed a "Monograph of the Afghan
Campaign." Returning to the Punjaub, he was placed on the staff of
General Elphinstone as Persian interpreter, was next sent to join Sir R.
Sale, then marching back to India, and was present at the forcing of the
Khoord Cabul Pass, at the action of Tezeen, and all the other
engagements of that force, till it reached Jellalabad. In the final
attack on Mahomed Akbar in April, 1842, which obliged that chief to
raise the siege, Havelock commanded the right column, and defeated the
enemy before the other columns could come up. For this he was promoted
and was made a Companion of the Bath. He was then nominated Persian
Interpreter to General Pollock, and was present at the action Mamoo Keil
and the second engagement at Tezeen, and he had a lot more fighting
before he returned to the plains of India. But, as he often said, he had
a God of Love watching over him. He then obtained his Regimental
Majority.
At the close of 1843 he accompanied the army to Gwalior, and was engaged
at the Battle of Maharajpore, In 1844 he was promoted to the rank of
Lieut.-Colonel, by Brevet. In 1845 he proceeded with the army to meet
the invasion of the Sikhs, and was actively engaged at the battles of
Moodkee, Ferozeshah, and Sobraon. At Moodkee he had two horses shot from
under him; at Sobraon a third horse was smitten down by a cannon ball
which passed through his saddle cloth. On the conclusion of the Sutlej
Campaign he was appointed D.A.G. to the Queen's troops at Bombay. The
second Sikh war now broke out, and his elder brother, Col. W. Havelock,
was killed at Ramnuggur. In 1849 he came over to Old England for the
benefit of his health, but, returning to Bombay in 1851, was soon made
Brevet-Colonel and received the appointment, first as Quartermaster
General, and then as Adjutant General of the Queen's Troops in India.
It did not matter how, where, or under what circumstances he was placed,
his chief study was how he could best promote the honour and praise of
Him who had so often thrown His protecting arm around him.
On the despatch of the Persian expedition Colonel Havelock was appointed
to command the 2nd division, and subsequently, in returning to India,
was shipwrecked off the coast of Ceylon--all hands were saved, but the
ship was lost. Havelock, on the beach, with all his men and officers
around him, called a Prayer Meeting, over which he presided, and
publicly thanking God for His mercies.
I am now coming to the time when this noble Christian hero astonished
the whole world by his exploits in the relief of Cawnpore and then of
Lucknow--which exploits all were compelled to admire, except the
Mutineers, and they had a wholesome dread of Havelock Sahib, the very
man that had so often led them to victory.
At length Havelock landed in Calcutta, was promoted to the rank of
Brigadier-General, and ordered to proceed to Allahabad. He reached his
destination, and on the 7th July, 1857, drew his sword once more, in
order to proceed to the relief of the unfortunates who were shut up in
Cawnpore and Lucknow. His little army as regards numbers was not very
formidable. It consisted of 600 of the 1st Madras Fusiliers, 500 of the
64th, and 600 of the 78th Highlanders, with 6 guns; a small column under
the brave Major Renaud, of 400 Europeans, 300 Sikhs, and 120 Volunteer
Cavalry, and 12 guns, had gone before to feel the way as an advanced
guard--the total united strength being 2,670. With this little force,
he, as a skilful General, carried all before him. At a place named
Futtehpore, the rebellious host first felt the weight of the conqueror's
sword. Our men had marched twenty-four miles that morning, and had no
idea of fighting; they were all tired and hungry, but there was the
enemy advancing, confident in their strength. Our hero had just held a
short but fervent Prayer Meeting; and now he addressed the 78th and
requested them to "let yonder fellows see what you are made of." A
British cheer followed this brief address, and then the troops got the
command to advance. Guns and skirmishers were off to the front, and the
battle was soon over, this being General Havelock's first victory in the
march to the relief of Cawnpore. It is the most astonishing battle on
record; the enemy were routed from the field, 11 guns were captured, and
their whole force scattered to the winds, _without the loss of a single
British soldier_. Truly our General could say with the Psalmist, "The
Lord is on our side." Methinks I hear that Christian warrior attributing
all the praise to the God of Jacob, and singing with all his heart:
Oh, God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our Shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.
Havelock, in thanking his men, attributed his success to the Enfield
rifle in British hands, and to the blessing of Almighty God in a most
righteous cause--the cause of justice, humanity, truth, and good
government in India. This battle was fought on the 12th July (Sunday),
1857. Had our Commander been a hot-headed man he would have ordered his
men to close with the bayonet, our favourite weapon; but, no, he could
see that our Enfield rifle was sweeping down the enemy, and they could
not touch us; and for four hours our boys peppered the murderers of
defenceless women and children, in fine style. As soon as the fight was
over, and it began to get a little cool, General Havelock held a Prayer
Meeting.
The voice of praise and prayer could be heard in this camp morning and
evening, and its commander always presided, leading his men in the
worship of the Lord of Hosts. The example of such a General was not lost
upon his men--as they got opportunity they would meet in two's and
three's and pour out their hearts in prayer and supplication. Reader,
are you at all astonished that such men as these should carry all before
them on field after field?
The next fight was on the 15th July, at Kulleanpore, when the enemy were
again routed. The little force continued its advance, and on the 16th
had another go-in at Pandoo Nuddee, where General Havelock had a horse
shot under him, and the enemy were again routed, leaving 23 guns in the
hands of the victors. There was another go-in at Aong, where four more
guns were captured, and the Mutineers got another hint to move at the
point of the bayonet. Some of them now began to find out that the
Feringhees' Ray (English Reign) was not over; they had found it nice
pastime to dishonour and then murder defenceless women and children, but
a terrible day of reckoning was coming. If they could not withstand a
mere handful of men, what might they expect when the veterans of Alma,
Balaclava, Inkermann, and Sebastopol, got at them? The sons of Albion
were now on the way in thousands to avenge their murdered countrywomen,
and the blood of the innocent cried aloud for vengeance.
We now come to the relief of Cawnpore. Our men had been lying down in
line, and then came the grand stroke which was to deliver our poor
pent-up countrywomen. General Havelock gave the order "Rise up,
advance!" upon which the whole line gave a cheer, and such a cheer--it
must have made the black-hearted villains tremble from head to foot. In
went our men, shoulder to shoulder, and the bayonet came into play; it
was too much for them, they took to their heels--that is, all that
could--but a number of them stopped in the batteries. After this fight
was over, our Christian hero rode along the line and thanked each
Regiment. Our men were electrified to think that they had been the means
of saving Cawnpore, which city lay about half a mile in front, and they
at once advanced to enter it. This little force had marched 126 miles,
fought four battles, and taken close upon 30 guns, large and small, in 8
days, and that in the hottest part of India, in the month of July. But
oh, horror of horrors! when our men got in, the sights that met their
eyes were maddening; all, all, had been cruelly murdered. While we had
been giving the villains a sound thrashing in the field, that fiend,
Nana Sahib, had ordered all the poor innocent creatures to be murdered!
What a sight met the gaze of the victors as they entered the
prison-house that had been the scene of the butchery! It was over an
inch deep in blood, and caps, bonnets, and all kinds of clothing
saturated in blood, were lying scattered all around. As if in mockery,
on one side of the slaughter-house stood a line of women's boots, and on
the other a line of children's, and when our men came to lift them up
they found the feet in them! Thus our poor helpless countrywomen and
children had been hacked to pieces. The walls were covered with blood,
and in some places they had, poor things, written "Countrymen avenge us,
we have all to meet worse than death." Our men, when they burst in, were
horrified. Men who had on field after field witnessed all the horrors of
war with scarcely a shudder, were now completely unmanned, and hardened
veterans might have been seen crying like children. Our men caught some
of the brutes hiding in the city; they were marched up, and made to wipe
up some of the blood they had helped to spill. Some of them complained
that it would break their caste; the lash of the cat brought them down
on their knees, and they were then taken out and tacked up. Colonel
Neill afterwards struck terror into them, for he made them lick up the
blood. The whole fearful truth was now realised. A huge well had been
used by the murderers as a receptacle in which to hide their victims
from human eyes, and here, yet reeking in blood, stripped of all
clothing, dishonoured, mutilated, and massacred, lay the bodies of 208
women and children of all ages--dying and dead. In that hideous well,
there lay the helpless mother and her innocent babe; the young wife and
the aged matron; girlhood in its teens, and infancy in its helplessness;
all, all had fallen beneath the talwars (swords) of the cowardly
Mahratta murderers. The blood speaks--"Countrymen, think of us: avenge
us, your murdered wives and helpless children."[34] No wonder that many
of our men crossed bayonets over the well, and swore to have a life for
every hair on the heads of those who had been so foully done to death!
It is scarcely necessary to add that they kept their oath. This brief
description is enough to make one's blood boil, but it was only a small
item in the terrible tragedy. The following is only too true:--A number
of European women were found in the City of Cawnpore, perfectly nude,
lying on their backs, fastened by both arms and legs, and thus many of
them had been lying four or five days, exposed to the burning July sun;
some had been more recently placed there; others had been hacked to
pieces, and so recently that the blood was streaming from their mangled
bodies. Children of ten, twelve, thirteen, and fourteen years of age,
were found treated in the same horrible manner, at the corners of the
streets, and in all parts of that guilty city; others were found
stripped and crucified head downwards. Indeed in all quarters sights the
most awful and degrading, the most horrible and frightful, and the most
revolting to the feelings of civilised men, met their astounded gaze I
think my readers will agree with me that no treatment could be too bad
for such bloodthirsty wretches. Pen refuses to describe all the
atrocities that were committed, and no printer would print the record of
these revolting and disgusting scenes.[35]
Our men were wrought up to a state of madness. Under our noble Christian
hero they would go anywhere and do anything, but the sights they had
just witnessed made them more like devils than men. Havelock remained in
Cawnpore until the 19th (Sunday), when he marched his little army to
Bithoor to look up the rebel Nana Sahib; but the coward had bolted,
leaving his fortified palace behind, with all his heavy guns. His
dastardly heart sank as soon as he found that the dreaded Feringhees
were advancing upon him; though he had boasted that he would destroy
them all. His palace was completely destroyed, but not a man of his
following was to be found. After destroying all, General Havelock
marched back to Cawnpore, and remained there for General Neill to come
up, which he soon did.
The following incident will show that Havelock knew well how to touch
the feelings of his men. In addressing them, he said, "Soldiers, your
General is satisfied with you; you have not degenerated from your
predecessors that conquered on the fields of Maida and Assaye; you have
put your enemies throughout India to silence; you reserved your fire
until you could see the colour of your enemies' moustachios, and this
gave us victory. Gentlemen, I thank you." His whole force now amounted
to 1,500 men and ten guns. He said, "Give us 3,000 men, with six horsed
guns, and we will smash every rebel force, one after the other, and the
Crimean troops coming up country can settle the rest. We shall resume
our way in three days, please God, and relieve Lucknow in six." Not one
of those grim-faced bearded Britons but felt confident of victory.
On the 29th July, Havelock commenced his march towards Lucknow. He had
only got three miles on the road, when he found that the enemy had taken
up a strong position at Oonao; they were about 6,000 strong. Havelock's
force went at them at once, took all their guns from them (19 in
number), left 1500 dead upon the field, and the remainder went off like
a flock of sheep, and the General exclaimed, "Oh that I had cavalry to
cut up the cowardly dogs!" As soon as this fight was ended, this
Christian Commander called upon the God of Israel, and thanked Him for
His protecting arm. The little force was now reduced to 1,364 men; but
they had another go-in at the enemy, at Busherut-gunge, and routed them
from the field. This was the sixth time this little army had been
engaged under our hero; fight followed fight in rapid succession; our
Commander was victorious in them all, but with the fearful inroads that
cholera was making in his little force, he was compelled to retire upon
Cawnpore, and wait for reinforcements that he knew were coming up
country, under Sir J. Outram.
I must here explain that this band of heroes was reduced by service and
cholera to 700 men--but reinforcements were sent up as quickly as
possible, and the 90th was the first Crimean Regiment that joined this
noble band. Sir James Outram was the senior officer, but with true
manliness he waived his rank and served under General Havelock as a
willing volunteer, and, on the relief of Lucknow being effected, resumed
his position at the head of the forces, on the 26th September, 1857.
General Havelock was soon off again; his force now consisting of nearly
3000 men, of all arms, formed up in two Infantry Brigades, one of
Artillery, and one of Cavalry. The 1st Brigade, Infantry, consisted of
the 5th Fusiliers and 84th Regiment, with detachments of the 64th and
1st Madras Fusiliers, Brigadier Neill Commanding; 2nd Brigade, 78th
Highlanders, and 90th Regiment, and Ferozepore Sikh Regiment, Brigadier
Hamilton Commanding; Artillery Brigade, Captain Maude's Battery, six
guns; Captain Olpherts' Battery, six guns; Major Eyre's Battery, Major
Cope Commanding; Cavalry Volunteers to the left, Irregular Cavalry to
the right, Captain Barrow Commanding.
This force fought or cut its way through a host, until they reached
their pent-up countrymen, within the Residency, losing in one day alone,
from the enemy, 535 men, 119 of whom were officers, picked off. "Our men
fought," says Havelock, "with desperation." On the 25th September, 1857,
Lucknow was relieved, and the relieving force clasped hands with its
noble defender, Colonel Inglis. Their united brilliant services were,
and are, the theme of general admiration. Again Sir H. Havelock was the
instrument, under a kind Providence, of rescuing from a ruthless foe
some hundreds of women and children. The gallant Commander of the
besieged, Colonel Inglis, had made up his mind never to surrender, but
to meet a soldier's death; and the whole of the heroic garrison were
equally determined to stand by our flag to the last; while if the worst
had come, all the poor defenceless creatures were to have been
destroyed, rather than that they should fall into the hands of fiends
that were thirsting for their blood. Reader, try and imagine the scene.
As the Scotch bagpipes sounded in the distance, as the continual roll of
musketry, the roar of the heavy guns, and the hurrahs of their
deliverers rang in their ears, they were well-nigh bursting with joy. It
is impossible adequately to describe such a scene. The heart was
suddenly uplifted, as a feeling of hope and joy rushed through the
brain. They were in the position of criminals condemned to death, and
just about to be launched into eternity, when a reprieve from Her
Majesty is handed in; or like a shipwrecked crew clinging to the wreck,
when unexpectedly and suddenly they are rescued. The poor things were
lifted from a state of terror to one of happiness--they were now happy
beyond all imagination, and at once expressed their gratitude to the God
of mercy. Their deliverers came rushing in amidst loud hurrahs--yea,
volley after volley of cheers was sent up to the skies from all ranks.
The loud-voiced "Hurrah" is the rallying cry, the cry of rejoicing; as
well as the cry of defiance to the enemy from a Briton! The brave
Highlanders, the 78th and 90th, taught the enemy some lessons they will
never forget, and their shrill bagpipes told both friend and foe that
"the Campbells are coming;" bade the enemy to beware, and our poor
pent-up garrison, to take courage: for, hark! the Macgregors--the
bravest of the brave, the descendants of a long line of warriors--are
coming. On every side death was staring them in the face, and no human
skill seemed capable of averting it; but that noble band was commanded
by one who had the eye of an eagle and the heart of a lion--one who had
gone forth in the name of the Lord of Hosts, as little David had done
before him; and, as a mighty man of valour, he ascribed all the glory of
his achievements to Him whose arm he knew well would never be shortened.
His cry was, "The battle is not our's, but our glorious Captain's." As
they approached the besieged, a wild shout of joy rent the air, and with
another terrible cheer they burst through sheet after sheet of flame,
and gained the blood-stained walls. A few instruments struck up the
National Anthem, and the gallant pipers responded with the strains of
that song which nerves every Scot: "Should auld acquaintance be forgot,"
&c. The garrison had been truly snatched from the jaws of death! As a
nation, we are proud of their heroic defence against such fearful odds,
and equally proud of their deliverers; while children yet unborn will
exclaim with pride, "My grandfather fought and defended the Residency at
Lucknow," or "was one of those who cut their way through a host to
deliver them"; while others will point with pride to their grandsires
and say, "They fought at the Alma, at Balaclava, and at Inkermann, were
engaged throughout the siege of Sebastopol; and helped to deliver that
half-starved, pent-up band at Lucknow."
An eye-witness says, "I shall never forget the moment that our men
rushed in; we had no idea that they were so near, not expecting they
could reach us for several days, when all at once we heard a sharp fire
of musketry close by, then some tremendous cheering, then our deliverers
came rushing in; we all found ourselves shaking hands frantically, and
exchanging fervently, 'God bless you.' The excitement was beyond all
description; the big rough-bearded men were seizing the little children
out of our arms, kissing them, with tears rolling down their cheeks, and
thanking God that they had come in time to save them from the fate of
those at Cawnpore; we all rushed about to get these noble fellows a
little water; my heart felt as if it would burst: we cried, we laughed,
and I felt that I must, and did, kiss some of these noble-hearted men.
We soon found out that a number of our deliverers were praying men, and
that their noble Commander was one who loved the Lord with all his heart
and soul. A Prayer Meeting was held that night, and a number of those
who had saved us gave God all the praise."
I have often heard it said that the biggest rogues and the worst
characters in our army make the best soldiers when it comes to the push,
but facts contradict this. Were it ever my lot to go into another
forlorn hope, and I was allowed to select my men, I should most
certainly choose those who loved the Lord, or the "Soldiers of Christ,"
for they would fight fearlessly, despising all danger, as death presents
to them no after fears.
Our Christian hero's end was now fast approaching. He, with a mere
handful of men, had cut his way through the midst of a host, and had
been the instrument in the hands of God of saving hundreds from the
murderer's sword. His little army found themselves hemmed in, but their
united forces now made the enemy keep at a respectful distance; in other
words, General Sir James Outram was determined to have breathing room,
and he soon made the place all around him a rather "hot corner." But our
Christian soldier and leader was now fast sinking under an attack of
dysentery, brought on by excessive fatigue, "and his end was peace."
Calling his son, the present Sir H. Havelock-Allen, V.C., who had so
often fought by his side, "Come here, my boy; for more than forty years
I have so ruled my life, that when death came I might face it without
fear; and my end is approaching." After a time, calling his son again,
and looking him full in the face, the dying man bade him "mark well how
a man that has walked with God can give up the ghost." On another
occasion, "_Come, my son_," said he, "_and see how a Christian man can
die_." These were his own words. Many a time had he said, "We may never
meet like this again, but I will tell you where, if we believe in
Christ, we shall meet, and I will tell you how we shall be employed;"
and then, New Testament in hand, he would read and explain this
Scripture, "To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise;" this, "He died,
and was taken by angels into Abraham's bosom;" this, "Absent from the
body, present with the Lord;" this, "Blessed are the dead which die in
the Lord, for they rest from their labours, and their works do follow
them;" and this, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished my
course, I have kept the faith; henceforth, there is laid up for me
(mark, religion is a personal matter), a crown of righteousness, which
the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me, at that day; and, brethren
and comrades, 'Not to me only, but to all them that love Him.'" He was
always trying to comfort the weak and to cheer the drooping heart. Thus
died Sir H. Havelock, in the zenith of his fame. He has bequeathed to us
a name that will live in England and India as a household word for ages
to come. General Sir Henry Havelock is gone. God took the Patriarchs,
and the same unchanging God and Father took our beloved Havelock, but,
although dead, he yet speaketh. If we could bring back the 13th Regiment
of Infantry, and ask them what was the great topic of his discourse, as
soon as the duties of his country allowed him half-an-hour--it mattered
not whether it was under canvas, in barracks, or on board ship, in the
Rangoon Pagoda, in the trenches, on the battle-field, or anywhere
else--they would tell us that his whole talk was of redeeming love. Many
a time, when death was stalking around him, had he spoken to them of
Providence, when others would have spoken of chance; spoken of an
Everlasting Life, of Hell, and of Death, and of departure to be with
Christ, "which is far better." Reader, Havelock yet speaks, and will
live in the hearts of thousands, as long as our language endures.
A few more thoughts about this noble Commander. Havelock is gone to
"that home not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." God, our
unchanging God, gave him the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. "O
death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" I say again,
he lives in the hearts of the people. His name will be handed down to
posterity. Our children's children will hear of him and bless his name.
Methinks I can now hear the dying veteran at Lucknow exclaim, "O death,
where is thy sting? Where is thy capacity for destroying me? Thou art
the king of terrors, as some would say, but thou art without any
authority over me! Rejoice not against me, O mine adversary, thou art a
conquered tyrant; thou wert forced to give up my Lord and Master and
thou wilt be forced to give me up, for though 'He was dead, He is alive
again.' 'O grave, where is thy victory?'" Some will scornfully say--"Old
soldier, call you that victory?" Aye! This is the true victory--the
victory given to him who is faithful--the victory whose laurels can
never fade! Scholar as he was, hero as he was, Havelock trusted in the
redeeming love of his Lord and Master. O, the dear old man, what a
soldier! what a Christian! what a father! "Come, my son, and see how a
Christian man can die." For forty years of his life he had not shrunk
back, but had faithfully done all that in him lay to "extol the stem of
Jesse's rod, and crown him Lord of all;" he had lived a life of faith,
and now he could without shrinking face the last enemy; death had no
sting for him.
Reader, stop and think. Havelock died, and so will you--will you be able
to sing in death? Try and live as you would die. Remember, we are only
sojourners in this tabernacle of clay for a short night, when compared
with eternity--eternity, no end. But he lives again, and will live as
long as eternity's endless day shall last. He lives with untold
millions, that have been bought with the precious blood of Him who died
that we poor rebels might live throughout countless ages. The sad
tidings of Havelock's death reached England on the 7th January, 1858,
and
England's mighty heart was shaken.
His victorious march and daily battles had swelled the hearts of his
grateful countrymen, and his triumphal progress was the theme of
universal admiration. He had subdued the mutineers upon field after
field, with a mere handful of men, and the gloom of his death spread
from the palace to the humble cottage. The whole of the English-speaking
people echoed a mournful song. But
The death of the just
Keeps something of his glory in the dust.
Meanwhile, "I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, write, blessed
are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: yea, saith the
Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do
follow them."--_Rev. xiv. 13._ Rest, warrior; rest, saintly soldier;
rest, thou faithful missionary; rest, hero, rest! For truly it may be
said of thee that thou hast entered through the pearly gates into the
New Jerusalem, shouting "Victory! victory! through the blood of the
Lamb!" He proved himself a faithful servant of his Lord and Master,
through evil and through good report, for upwards of forty years; he
served his country faithfully, and he proved upon more than thirty
fields that he was second to none. He had been repeatedly sneered at
by those in high positions, as a "Methodist," a "ranting Baptist,"
and often had he been painted as black as they could paint him. But
one, holding the highest position that a subject could hold--that of
Viceroy or Governor-General--said, "I do wish he (Havelock) would make
the whole army Baptists." And the hero of Borrosa, Field Marshal Lord
Gough, knew well upon whom he could rely when the country's honour
was at stake--"Send Havelock's band of Saints at them; _they_ are not
_drunk_." And the _water-drinking band_ went in and carried all before
them.
* * * * *
The great Duke of Marlborough proved himself one of the greatest
Generals that England ever produced; he made a great noise during his
day, and when he died there was a lot of pomp at his interment. A few
years have rolled on, and we but seldom hear his name mentioned. We hear
far more of John Bunyan, Rowland Hill, Martin Luther, Ridley, and
Latimer; these are names that will live for ever, will live as long as
time shall last, in the hearts of thinking men. One of the greatest
Generals of modern days (Lord Hardinge), in speaking of Havelock said,
"Was there danger to be incurred? he was foremost in facing it; was
there deliverance to be achieved? he would die, in order that it might
be achieved," and he also said, "He (Havelock) was every inch a
soldier." I would say all honour to the witness, and would re-echo the
testimony, "every inch a soldier," but adding--he was also every inch a
Christian. This testimony ought to be borne in mind by us to-day. For
four months had he to maintain, against heavy odds, a terrible warfare;
neither night nor day had he rest, except a few snatches of repose. Now
he would be engaged in conducting an attack, then in the conduct of a
defence. A battle was fought to-day, but another must be fought
to-morrow; the Residency, with its precious treasures of women and
children, must be relieved. His object being attained, he with all his
soul rendered thanks to God. To his grateful surprise he had come to the
end of it all without a wound, notwithstanding the terrific dangers he
had passed through. One day he was missed; his comrades, high and low,
missed him from the place they had been accustomed to meet him in; they
soon enquired, deep from the heart--"Is he ill? is he dangerously ill?"
He was. He was looked up to as a Father in Israel; the younger and the
older ones, the stern and stalwart men, the veterans and the recruits,
all wept alike; he was beloved by all. What words, what grand words were
those to his son on his death bed--"Come, my son, and see how a
Christian man can die." He had lived a life of faith upon the Son of
God, and now he could die without being afraid to face the last enemy,
and was able to sing:--
O death, where is thy sting; O grave, where is thy victory?
Duty had made him great, Love made him greater still,
And so we leave the hero to his rest.
Thy country mourns thee, Havelock; her brave sons
Weep o'er thy honoured bier; chief mourner, too,
Religion weeps, with heaving breast, and eye
Suffused with tears, she droops her head, while hope,
With smiling face, now seeks awhile in vain
To point her to the skies. I can but weep,
She says, so sudden is the stroke--so deep
The wound, and where's the heart that does not grieve?
Is there a man within the British Isles
To whom the name of Havelock is not dear?
Who has not traced the Christian hero's march
With honest pride, and scalding tears of joy
And sympathy, as, leading on his troops,
But few in number, but how brave, he forced
His way beneath a burning sun, oft faint
And weary, through, surrounding hosts, transformed
By rage and burning hatred into fiends;
Nor stayed his course till his victorious sword
Relief and succour brought to those he loved
And saved, a band of heroes, with their wives
And children? Oh, Cawnpore, through what scenes
Of toil and streams of blood the noble veteran
Sought to reach thy walls--fight after fight, amid
Distress and tears, and blood, disease, and death,
On, on, he passed. Oh, Lucknow, wilt thou forget
The man who, through a wall of fire, marched on
To bring thee help? And thou, too, England, wilt thou
Forget thy crimes, which bade these trials seize
Thy distant sons, and raised the bloody path
Thy soldiers had to tread? Lucknow relieved,
We thought the tide of battle so well turned
That all was well, and 'neath the wings of peace
We soon again should rest; then lo, a wail
Of sorrow; What is it? Havelock is dead!
Alas, we pictured him at home once more,
And saw a grateful nation stretching forth
Its hands to welcome his approach; we saw
The honours destined to adorn his brow,
So dearly earned--but he is dead; Alas!
We could but weep; his venerable head
Lies 'neath the sod; he did his destined work,
And gently fell asleep; Victory received him
Into her arms, kissed his cold lips, and took
Him home. What more could we desire? This is
Our joy; Havelock a Soldier was--and more,
A Christian; fought beneath the banner of
The cross, and hence he lives, and on the steps
Of glory stands, 'neath the Great Captain's wing,
And from his hand receives a brighter crown
Than earth could give. Oh! who would wish him back?
Fame has no chaplet like the one he wears--
Immortal as the hand of Love, which raised
Him to a throne. Oh! for the noble courage
That fired his soul to battle with the foes
Which daily press around, to take them by
The throat, nor cease to fight, until at last,
Before the throne of God we stand, and with
The ransomed armies of the skies, ride forth
Triumphantly, to celebrate His praise,
Whose mighty arm, wisdom, and present love,
Brought victory to Himself, and even leads
His soldiers on to life and endless bliss,
To glory and renown.
_W. P. Balfern._
MEDALS.
Ambition sigh'd: she found it vain to trust
The faithless column and the crumbling bust;
Huge moles, whose shadow stretch'd from shore to shore,
Their ruins perish'd, and their place no more;
Convinced, she now contracts the vast design,--
And all her triumphs sink into a coin.
A narrow orb each crowded conquest keeps;
Beneath her palm here sad Judæa weeps;
Now scantier limits the proud arch confine,
And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine;
A small Euphrates through the piece is roll'd,
And little eagles wave their wings in gold.
_Pope._
RUMOURS OF WAR.
Dark as a cloud that drifts in from the West,
Heavy with thunder and lightning and rain,
Rumours of warfare break in on our rest--
Rumours of strife bringing Death in its train.
War that stirs nations as breath stirs a fire,
Making the whole glow as bright as each part;
War that arouses fierce passions and ire;
War that brings sorrow to many a heart;
War that is terrible if it be just;
War that's a crime if it be for the wrong;
War that is righteous if only we trust
All unto Him who is righteous and strong.
So be it now if our cause be the right!
Conscious of truth we shall never know fear;
Heedless of danger we'll leap to the fight,
Meeting the foe with a true British cheer.
Woe, then, to those who may stand in the way!
Britain, once roused, draws the sword not in vain;
And until victory gladdens the day,
Once the sword drawn it is sheathed not again.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN HEDLEY VICARS, 97TH REGIMENT.
_In the Trenches._]
CHAPTER XIII.
Captain Hedley Vicars, a Loving Son, and a Faithful Soldier
of the Cross--His Early Life--Joins the Army, and devotes
Himself to his Chosen Profession--His Eyes opened to the
Truths of the Gospel--His Prayerful Conduct--In the
Crimea--Killed in a Night Attack on the Trenches--The
Feeling of the Men Composing the Light Division--Letters to
his Mother--His Last Letter--In Memoriam--Letter to Lord
Rayleigh announcing his Death--Letter from a Brother
Officer--Testimony of Private Soldiers to his Worth--The
Lessons of his Life
CAPTAIN HEDLEY VICARS.
There are few thinking men throughout the length and breadth of Britain
who have not heard of Captain Hedley Vicars, the Christian soldier. And
what makes his name so dear to thousands who have a heart about them was
his unflinching faithfulness, first, to the God of Israel, and,
secondly, to his queen and country; and also his loving, noble, and
manly nature, which compelled him, even when death was raging all around
him, to cling to his love for his darling mother. A man who could forget
or neglect his mother, the being who brought him, with agonizing pain,
into this world, is not worthy the name of man, he is worse than the
beasts of the field, and deserves to be ostracised from the society of
his fellows. Let a man once get into danger, either by sea or land, and
it will set him thinking of the fact that he has an immortal soul that
must live for ever, either in happiness or woe--for our God is a just
God. The love of an affectionate mother is stronger than anything on
earth; but the boundless love of God is beyond all measure. He did not
withhold His only begotten Son, but freely gave him up, that He might
save His people from their sins. Oh, what love--what matchless love! But
remember, reader, this same holy God hath said, "The wicked shall be
turned into hell, and all the people that forget God."
He whose career I am now about to trace was to the last a loving son of
his mother and a faithful servant of his Lord. Hedley Vicars was born in
the Mauritius, 7th December, 1826, and at the time of his departure from
this life on the field of battle, 22nd March, 1855, was but a little
over twenty-eight years of age. There was but little to distinguish him
in early life from others. He was active and fearless, upright and
honourable, open-hearted and generous, but quick to resent an injury. He
was another example of the noble blood that has sprung from our sister
isle, Ireland. He obtained his commission in December, 1843, at the age
of seventeen, and at once entered, heart and soul, into his profession;
his whole zeal was for the honour of his country; as he said
afterwards--"It's no use doing things by halves."
He had been five years in our army before it pleased the Lord to open
his spiritual eyes, to see that he had an immortal soul that must live
for ever. As I have said, he was an ardent lover of his darling mother.
His fond, affectionate letters to that parent are truly inspiring--they
bring out in bold relief his noble manliness, and lay bare his manly
heart. The following is one of his beautiful letters to his mother,
after his eyes were partly opened:--
My Darling Mother,
I do love you, and that fondly, although I have often (and
may God Almighty forgive me) rebelled against your wishes.
Mother, I ask your forgiveness for what has passed: you know
not what real anguish some of your letters have caused me;
and although I have tried to drown the voice of conscience,
after reading them, a still small voice has always been
whispering in my ear, and kept me from committing many a
sin.
He now began to be awakened to the sinfulness of his heart (this was
some six years before he left this earthly tabernacle). He was no
coward; but the thought of death was solemn, and it set him considering
seriously whether he was in a fit state to meet a just and holy God; and
when it pleased the Lord to speak peace to his soul, he had then no fear
of death before his eyes; consequently he proved himself one of the
bravest of the brave.
His whole life and soul was now that of a Christian. His eyes had been
opened, and he could see that it was impossible to serve two masters,
and, like thousands that had gone before him, he chose rather to suffer
affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for
a season.
Reader, the world may scoff and scorn, but ask yourself the question,
Who is the best off in the end? Mind, formalities will not do; they have
no foundation. To be safe you must have your foundation on the Rock of
Ages.
Vicars asked himself the question:--
When Thou my righteous Judge shall come
To fetch Thy ransomed people home
Shall I among them stand?
After many prayers the answer he received was, "Be ye also faithful, and
I will not leave thee nor forsake thee."
His regiment, the 97th, went out to the Crimea, in November, 1854,
landed just after the battle of Inkermann; and during that cold, bleak
winter, he proved himself a soldier of no mean sort. But amid all the
trials and hardships of that terrible camp and trench life he was never
heard to murmur: he performed his duty with a cheerful heart, and had
always a kind word for every one. He was always as true as steel to his
country; he was ever a loving, affectionate son; and, above all, he was
faithful to his fathers' God. He was loved and respected by all ranks
for his manly conduct, and, as one of the old Light Division, I can say
that his name was engraved on the hearts of all, and throughout the
division there was not a man who would not have laid down his life to
have saved his. After he fell in that night attack in the trenches one
would have thought that the men, particularly those of the 97th, would
have eaten the enemy. He fell for England's home and glory, his last
words being, "97th, follow me." He fell--one of Britain's bravest
sons--in the hour of victory. He fell to rise triumphant, to meet his
Lord and Master, whom he had not been ashamed to extol through flood and
field. I cannot do better than copy some of this noble young hero's
letters, and then my readers will be able to see what was his character,
and the state of his mind, which was cheerful under all circumstances.
He would say he did not like to hear a man grumble. As for himself he
would sing with all his manly heart--
Grace 'tis a charming sound
Grace first contrived the way,
Grace first inscribed my name,
Grace led my roving feet,
Grace taught my soul to pray,
Grace all the work shall crown.
Where is the man who has any spirit in him that would not follow at the
call of such a leader? His last words for his Queen and Country were
"Come on, Fusiliers! This way, 97th! Come on!" and thus he fell, shot by
the advancing Russians. By that fatal bullet, Her Most Gracious Majesty
and the nation at large lost a faithful, honest, and devoted subject;
while his poor widowed mother lost a fond and affectionate son; but that
bereaved mother had the consolation of knowing that he was "not lost,
but gone before." He who searches the inmost recesses of the heart and
conscience knew well that Hedley Vicars had attained a meetness for the
heavenly inheritance, and that it would have been wrong to delay his
removal out of harm's way and from the evil to come. He who holds the
keys of the unseen world and of death, and whose eyes are as a flame of
fire, had guided Vicars by His counsel, and could see that the time for
this exemplary soldier to die had really arrived. His mother's loss, Her
Majesty's loss, the nation's loss, was to be his gain--his eternal gain.
It was, indeed, a crushing blow to his bereaved mother, but He who
raised the widow's son was able to comfort and support her. She knew
that her son had "fought a good fight" for his Lord and Master, and had
"finished his course," and henceforth there was laid up for him a crown
of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, would give him.
Reader, sooner or later your turn will come, whether on a battle-field
or on a bed of down. The all-important question for consideration
is--Are you ready? Have you been faithful? Remember, it will be a
personal matter when your time comes. Boast not thyself of health,
wealth, youth, or attainments. "Prepare to meet thy God." Captain Vicars
had always in his mind this truth. Man proposes, but God in His mercy
disposes; and who shall say that He doeth wrong? He holds the whole
earth in the hollow of His hands, but He remembereth in His mercy that
we are dust.
Captain Vicars did not like outward forms of religion. He would say,
"Away with all formality,--give me Christ or else I die." In writing to
his mother, his darling mother, he said, "How lonely I feel when Jesus
withdraws Himself from me and leaves me for a time to myself, but those
blessed words in Isaiah have restored happiness to my soul, "For a small
moment I have forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I gather thee."
He had only been in the Crimea a little over a month, when he was
providentially saved from an untimely end. A number of Officers, in
order to keep their tents a little warm, had charcoal burnt in them;
three Officers had been found dead in their tents from the effects of
the fumes, and another was hanging between life and death; that other
was Captain Hedley Vicars, who had returned to his cold tent chilled and
weary, after a wild and snowy night in the trenches. Before throwing
himself on his bed of leaves and stones, he told his servant, as it was
intensely cold, to make a small fire of charcoal in a dish, and to leave
the door of the tent partly open, but it nearly cost him his life. He
was for duty that night again, and his faithful servant several times
vainly endeavoured to awaken him, and at last became alarmed and went
for the surgeon. He found him returning from the tent of another of the
97th, for whom, alas, his aid had come too late. Our hero was carried
into the open and laid upon the snow; his men stood around, wringing
their hands, but, at length, after blistering and bleeding, he was
restored to consciousness; he was spared for a nobler end, to fulfil his
own choice, "As a soldier I will die." In one of his letters is the
following:--"In the trenches, the other day, one of our men amused us
much. At the first shell which passed close to him he dropped down on
his back screaming aloud for a doctor, for he was 'Kilt entirely;' the
doctor ran up to him and asked him where he had been hit, when he
exclaimed, 'Och, och, doctor; clean through the blanket.'" In another,
"This afternoon, whilst speaking to our poor fellows in the Cholera
Hospital, who were lying cold and comfortless on the bare ground, rays
of sunshine seemed to illumine that charnel tent as I brought the
crucified Saviour before those men, for tears glistened in many an eye,
and the smile of hope and peace was on many a lip. I feel it to be
indeed a pleasure and a privilege to talk to my sick comrades and
fellow-sinners of Jesus, and I am sure that they who never visit the
suffering and dying deprive themselves of the deepest happiness this
life affords. It is painful, often heart-rending, to witness agony we
cannot alleviate; to see the distorted face and hear the cry of anguish
of friends and comrades." Again, "We are expecting every day to meet the
enemy in open field, or to storm this fortress. I wish they would let us
go at it at once. _Be not anxious about me, I am safe in the arms of my
Saviour; I feel it, I know it, in life or in death._" He might often be
heard singing--
Am I a soldier of the cross,
A follower of the Lamb,
And shall I fear to own His cause,
Or blush to speak his name?
Also the following--
Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land,
I am weak, but Thou art mighty,
Hold me with Thy powerful hand.
Bread of heaven,
Feed me till I want no more.
And again he would burst forth--
Soldiers of Christ, arise,
And put your armour on,
Strong in the strength that God supplies,
Through His eternal Son.
From strength to strength go on,
Wrestle, and fight, and pray,
Tread all the powers of darkness down,
And win the well-fought day.
On the 16th and 17th December he writes "I have only returned about half
an hour from the trenches, the rain poured in torrents all night; we
turned out in the midst of it, 3 officers and 200 men, and started for
the rendezvous, previous to marching off to the trenches; we had to ford
two mountain torrents, which damped our feet and legs, if not our
ardour; we moved on, tumbling in the mud at every step; we found the
trenches in parts knee-deep in mud, through which we plodded; a spent
bullet struck me in the left side, but did no harm, thank God. I offered
up a short prayer of gratitude and praise to my Heavenly Father, who had
thus preserved me; we lined the trench without any casualties, but the
weather was so bleak and cold, that we were obliged to walk about to
keep ourselves warm, regardless of the bullets which kept flying about
our ears like bees. A Marine was mortally hit in the breast soon after,
he died in less than half an hour. One of my men was walking up and down
close to the rampart, when a ball hit him behind the ear; he fell on his
side and died without a groan. _What and where_ were thy last thoughts,
as death met thee in that short walk? The miseries of the winter before
Sebastopol will not easily be forgotten. The men who stormed the heights
of Alma, who in the dreadful fight of Inkermann conquered again amidst
fogs and darkness; of whom a mere handful at Balaclava were seen
charging an army, while all the world wondered; such men had proved
their steel, yet there is a limit to human endurance, and men of this
mould _have been seen to weep_. As on night after night, succeeding days
of _starvation_ and toil, they were ordered to their work in the
freezing trenches, who can estimate the exhausting misery?" But here
again he breaks forth "Shame on those officers who are resigning their
commissions, and deserting their country now in her hour of peril; a
thousand deaths before dishonour; let us not hesitate to bear the cross
daily. Think of Him who bore the cross for us. He was tempted in all
points like as we are, although without sin; the glory of our religion
is salvation through the blood of Jesus." In another "Yesterday I read
with great comfort the third of Colossians. In the advanced work (that's
next the enemy) I find Jesus more and more precious to my soul." Another
"My own darling Mother, the long expected box has at length arrived, and
its contents are now safely stowed away in my tent; and as the various
proofs of loving remembrances from you, dearest Mother, and from darling
Clara, Mary, Georgie, and the children, met my eyes, I was so much
affected that I nearly cried; may the Lord give me courage to speak
faithfully and earnestly." In writing to one of his sisters, our hero
penned the following:--"Oh! dearest Mary, it is well to have the love of
Jesus Christ in its reality in our hearts; what solid peace and rich
enjoyment we obtain in 'looking unto Jesus.' Where else should we behold
the boundless love of our Heavenly Father? What else could have led me
to the side of men dying of pestilence, for how could I have spoken to
these poor suffering creatures, of the love of God, but by 'looking unto
Jesus'; and to whom could I implore them to look, but to that precious
Lamb? Baptismal regeneration, Church Privileges, the Sacramental system,
Confession, and Priestly Absolution, may do for some people when in
health, but no smile of joy from the sick man, I believe, would ever be
the fruit of such miserable comforters in the last hour. When a dying
man can say or feel 'I know that my Redeemer liveth,' he wants no more;
he can then sing with all his heart--
'Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly.'"
We now come to the closing scene. He wrote in his last letter "The
greater part of another month is past, and here I am, still kept by the
protecting arm of the Almighty from all harm. I have been in many a
danger by night and day, since I last wrote to you my own beloved, but
the Lord has delivered me from them all, but not only so, but he has
likewise kept me in perfect peace, and made me glad with the light of
His countenance. In Jesus I find all I want of happiness or enjoyment,
and as week after week, and month after month roll by, I believe He is
becoming more and more lovely in my eyes, and precious to my soul." He
also said "I read Isaiah xli, and Cay[36] prayed; we walked together
during the day, and exchanged our thoughts about Jesus."
Thus, the last word he ever wrote was the name he loved best.
Twenty-four hours later, and his eyes had seen "the King in his beauty."
His soul to Him who gave it rose,
God led it to its long repose,
Its glorious rest;
And though the warrior's sun has set,
Its light will linger round us yet,
Bright, radiant, blest.
_Longfellow._
IN MEMORIAM.
His memory long will live alone
In all our hearts, as mournful light
That broods above the fallen sun,
And dwells in heaven half the night.
_Tennyson._
The following was the letter informing his friends of what had
happened:--
Camp before Sebastopol,
To Lord Rayleigh.
My Lord,
It is with the deepest sorrow that I write to announce the
death of Captain Vicars, of the 97th Regiment. He was killed
last night in the trenches, while gallantly cheering on his
men to the attack of a body of the enemy, who, taking
advantage of the darkness of the night, got close into our
trenches. From what I can glean of the affair, he rushed
bravely into the middle of them, knocked down two, and was
in the act of striking a third, when one of them shot him
through the right arm, high up, close to the shoulder; the
ball divided the principal artery, and he must soon have
bled to death; therefore it is a melancholy satisfaction to
know that his sufferings were short.
I cannot express my own sorrow and that of the Regiment at
the loss of so valuable an Officer, further than to say, as
regards myself, I feel that I have lost a brother; it was in
his society I felt the happiest: as regards the Regiment he
cannot be replaced. Contemplating his melancholy loss in the
light of a Christian, we indeed ought not to sorrow as those
who have no hope, for I feel sure no Officer in the whole
army was more prepared to meet his Saviour. I write to your
Lordship, as he told one of our Officers that his Mother was
staying with you, and he had given you directions in case
(as he said) of anything happening to him.
I am, &c.,
T. O. W. INGRAM,
Major, 97th Regt.
A dear friend of Captain Vicars wrote of his death as follows:--
To Lady Macgregor.
Camp before Sebastopol,
23rd March, 1855.
My dearest Mother,
This is a dark and sorrowful day with me; my heart is wrung,
my eyes red and hot with crying, I feel gloomy and sorrowful
altogether. My very dear friend, Vicars, was killed last
night; the Russians made a sortie, and while gallantly
leading on a handful of our men, to charge them out of our
works, he was mortally wounded by a ball striking him in the
right breast; he died soon after, and is now enjoying a
glorious rest in the presence of his Saviour. I do not pity
him, what more could we wish for him? He was fully prepared
for the most sudden death, and he died bravely, fighting and
doing his duty, but my heart bleeds for the loss of my
dearest friend and for the sake of his poor mother and
family. Such a death became such a life and such a soldier;
the most gallant, the most cheerful, the happiest, the most
universally respected Officer, and the most consistent
Christian soldier, has been taken from us by that ball, and
I know not how to live without him; he was my truest friend,
my most cheerful companion, and my friendly adviser on all
occasions, but as his Sergeant remarked, bitterly, this
morning, "He was too good to live." Noble fellow; he rushed
in front of his men and his powerful arm made more than one
Russian fall before that cruel bullet brought him down; it
must have been fired close to him, for his coat was singed;
I never knew how much I loved him until he was nearly dying
of the charcoal. When I heard at daylight this morning that
Vicars had been brought home dead, you may imagine my
excessive grief; I loved that man as dearly as a brother.
Oh, his poor mother and sisters that he loved so dearly! But
she is a Christian, and has lived to see her once wild and
reckless son come to the fold of Jesus, and prove his
sincerity by a long and unswerving and consistent course; I
also cut a lock of his fine curly hair this morning, as I
know his mother would like to get it. How he fearlessly
visited and spoke to the men, in the worst times of the
cholera, but, as he told me, he got his reward, for the
soldiers' dying lips besought blessings on his head. Oh! how
happy he is now; such a death, and such glory now; even in
death his habitual happy smile did not forsake him; the Lord
knew when and how to take him. Everyone liked and respected
Vicars, even those who did not agree with his strict
religion. How sadly we shall miss him in all our little
meetings. O God, help me to bear this sad affliction! Our
men got great praise for the fight last night, but who would
not go anywhere with such a leader? Farewell Vicars, my
loved companion. I knew when he went into action he would
show that a Christian soldier was a brave as well as a happy
man; I do not know exactly how it all was, I only vouch for
the above facts, and the terrible reality of poor Vicars'
noble frame lying in the Hospital tent, where I saw it. God
bless you, dearest Mother, and may He sanctify this severe
trial to my soul.
Your own
DOUGLAS.
In six months, Douglas Macgregor and Hedley Vicars had met again--they
were not long divided. On the fatal 8th September, Macgregor twice
fought his way into the Redan, the second time to come out no more. He
was found far in advance, on that blood-stained ground, lying beside a
cannon, in the sleep of death.
I knew Captain Vicars, and was near him the night that he fell, and can
say truly that the 97th and detachments of other Regiments, the 7th
Royal Fusiliers, 23rd Royal Welsh, 33rd, 34th, 2nd Rifles, 19th, 77th,
88th, 90th, and all Regiments of the Light Division, took a terrible
revenge for the life of this noble Christian, for he was loved by all
who knew him. I have referred at length to this event in an earlier
chapter of this little book. I hope to meet Captain Vicars again some
day, in that bright land above, where many who fought desperately in
that campaign will be found clad in robes prepared for all them that are
faithful to the end.
The following will, perhaps, be interesting:--
Extract from a letter of a Private Soldier of the 77th.
The loss of Captain Vicars is felt by many, many a one out
here; but he rejoices, and enjoys the fruits of his heavy
labours in the loving bosom of his God and Saviour.
Willingly would I have resigned my poor life to have
prevented the deadly blow. I wept for his loss, but now I
envy him his glory. I send you some clay I got off his
grave, and a rough sketch (but true) of his tombstone. His
men have ornamented the grave with shells, and flowers are
already growing there.
The next extract is from a letter by one of the soldiers of the 97th,
who fought their way through the ranks of the Russians, as they closed
round Vicars when he fell. The writer was a Roman Catholic.
Camp before Sebastopol,
28th June, 1855.
Madam,
I hope you will excuse the liberty I take in acknowledging
the receipt of your kind note of 20th May, 1855, and its
enclosure of half-a-sovereign; also the handsome good book
you were so kind as to send me. I am sure I have done
nothing to deserve such kindness; what I have done, in
striving to save the late beloved Captain Vicars, any one
Soldier in the Regiment would have done, for he was beloved
by everyone who knew him. As our Adjutant, he was loved by
everyone in the Regiment, and as Captain of No. 4. Company,
he was more so by his Company; there is scarcely a man in
the Regiment that would not have gladly laid down his own
life to save his. I am sorry that I cannot express my thanks
for your kind wishes and your handsome present--a book not
much read by the humble classes of my persuasion (Bible);
but your book I will read and study, so that I may become
worthy to meet your beloved friend, and our no less beloved
Captain, in Glory.
Your very obedient humble servant,
J. O. REILLY, No. 3 Company, 97th.
The following letter will be read with melancholy interest, as it is
from the pen of one who fell foremost in the Redan, whilst gallantly
leading the forlorn hope, on the 8th September, and who was followed to
a soldier's grave with no common regret--let us hope to meet with his
noble Captain.
Camp, 29th June, 1855.
My dear Lady Rayleigh,
My brother Officers have requested me to acknowledge your
kindness, and to thank you very much for your remembrance of
them in forwarding the books, descriptive of the life of
their poor friend and fellow-soldier, Captain Vicars.
Believe me, no one was, or could be, more regretted than he
is, for he was ever anxious, zealous, and attentive to his
duties, he was also most cheerful, self-denying, and
obliging to his friends and companions. The narrative truly
states, that whilst he entered, with all his heart, into the
interests and duties of a soldier, his lips and life told
one unchanging story of the love of Christ. It must be a
very great source of consolation to his mother to know that
in all this army, none, as far as human observation can
judge, was more prepared to meet his Maker. I was not in the
trench the night he suffered, but hearing that some wounded
men had been sent up, I had risen and gone to the Hospital
with the Doctor; whilst there, I was informed that he was
being brought in, and hastening to meet him, found, poor
fellow, that he had breathed his last--as his bearers
informed me, calmly and quietly, having spoken a few
minutes before I met them. I must beg you to convey my
condolences to his poor mother, to whom I would have written
at the time, had I known her address. I left the
correspondence to a personal and intimate friend of his,
Major Ingram.
Believe me, my dear Lady Rayleigh,
Most truly to remain yours,
A. F. WELSFORD
Major Commanding 97th.
The night of the 22nd March, 1855, was as dark as pitch; when the noble
Captain was brought into the trench a stretcher was procured, he was
placed upon it, and then he asked for a little water. To each one's
inquiry he answered cheerfully, and said that he believed his wound was
slight. But a main artery had been severed, and the life blood flowed
fast. He was quickly sent home to camp, but the bearers had only
proceeded a few paces onward when he faintly said, "Cover my face, cover
my face." What need for covering under the shadow of that dark night?
Was it not a sudden consciousness that he was entering into the presence
of the Holy God, before whom even the Angels veil their faces? As the
men laid him down at the door of his tent, a welcome from the armies of
the sky sounded in his hearing; he had fallen asleep.
* * * * *
In writing the foregoing narrative, I have had a single eye to the glory
of Him who said, "If any man serve Me, let him follow Me, and where I
am, there shall My servant be. If any man serve Me, him will my Father
honour."--_St. John 12th._
Go to thy grave, at noon from labour cease,
Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest work is done;
Come from the heart of battle, and in peace,
Soldier, go home, with thee the fight is won.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE BLACK WATCH.
(ROYAL HIGHLANDERS.)
The following will prove to my readers that the gallant 42nd, or Black
Watch, have often been foremost in our ranks on many a hard contested
field. Their loyalty is undoubted, and their patriotism unconquerable.
There are none more brave and none more reckless in danger than these
loyal children of the snow-capped mountains of Scotland, bred among
crags and peaks, and accustomed from children to endure, to struggle,
and dare. They have all the impetuosity of the Celt and the courage of
the Saxon. They have a thousand glorious memories, which would fire the
blood of the dullest with a joyous ardour which could not be subdued.
Shoulder to shoulder they will advance with levelled steel; shoulder to
shoulder they will stand and face shot and shell; and shoulder to
shoulder they will die where they stand, overpowered, but not defeated.
They may be broken and crushed, but never subdued. Happy the nation that
can boast such devout sons. In tracing the history of these hardy
Highlanders, we must say a few words upon the Scots Greys, the 71st
Highland Light Infantry, the 72nd Highlanders, 78th Highlanders, 79th
Cameron Highlanders, 92nd Gordon Highlanders, 91st, and the 93rd
Sutherland Highlanders.
We find that in all ages the Highlander has been a soldier. The keen
music of the pibroch has had an irresistible influence upon him. The
Highlanders formed the famous body guard of the Kings of France, and
their fidelity was never mistrusted. More than once they turned the tide
of victory in favour of the _Fleur de lis_. The French monarchs lavished
honours upon them, and every private had conferred on him the rank and
dignity of a gentleman. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries they
composed the "Scotch Brigade" of the United Provinces, and often
wresting victory from the best soldiers of Europe, the Highlanders were
among the _elite_ of the conquering armies of the "Lion of the North;"
and on the bloody field of Lutzen they routed the enemy. They displayed
their prowess too in the great campaigns of Louis XIV. There have been
Highland companies in the service of the House of Hanover, but it was
William Pitt who first constituted the Highlanders part of our regular
military establishment. The first Highland regiment was embodied as the
"Black Watch" in 1729. They then had but six companies. War breaking out
with Spain in 1739, they were augmented to ten. Each had one captain,
one lieutenant, one ensign, three sergeants, three corporals, two
drummers, and one hundred privates. We find from their records that
John, Earl of Crawford, was their first colonel. The old "Black Watch"
embarked for Flanders in 1743, and joined King George II.'s army at
Hanan, just too late for the battle of Dettingen. They first confronted
the enemy in covering a reconnoitering party in front of Fontenoy.
Courage had done its best, but it was a defeat for us. The retreat was
covered by the remains of the Guards and Highlanders, so that they were
the first on the field and last off. The Duke of Cumberland made special
acknowledgment of their chivalrous devotion. Their loss was 136. Shortly
afterwards the 42nd returned to England, and were quartered on the coast
of Kent, to assist in repelling a threatened French invasion. The next
time the Black Watch were employed was under Major-General James
Abercromby against a strong French fort, named Ticanderoga. The
fortification was of immense strength. The general, without waiting for
reinforcements, began to attack with his gallant Highlanders, who sprang
forward sweeping all before them with their claymores. But the fire from
the fortress mowed them down whole companies at a time, and with
reluctance their noble commander withdrew them. In this desperate fray
the 42nd lost 647 officers, non-commissioned officers, and men. In 1758
the Black Watch received the distinction of the "Royal Highland Regiment
of Foot," and a second battalion of ten companies numbering 120 men each
was raised. A portion of the regiment were at the storming of
Martinique, and at the capture of Guadaloupe; and no troops, says
Beatson, could have behaved with more courage. We shortly after find the
two battalions in North America, under General Amherst, at the capture
of Montreal, and the reduction of Canada in 1760. The British soldier
had need be made of tough material, for he often has the two extremes to
bear, of the cold Canadian winters and the tropical heats of the East or
West Indian summers. We next trace the Highlanders to Cuba, where they
greatly distinguished themselves, and later in the attack upon Havanna
their conduct was all that could be desired. The Black Watch had much
rough fighting, and with not much honour, against the wild and restless
Indian tribes. It is not my intention to chronicle every movement of the
Black Watch; suffice it to say that they took part in the whole of the
war of American Independence. This was brought about by sheer
mismanagement, for had our forefathers treated the Americans with
justice they would have been now part and parcel of our glorious empire.
Again, we find the 42nd brought face to face with our old hereditary
enemy at New Vigo. It was here that the Black Watch captured four
redoubts situated one above or one commanding the other. A remarkable
incident occurred here which is worth recording. Capt. Stuart,
afterwards Major-General, directed one of his men to remain behind to
look after the men's knapsacks. He obeyed, but his wife pushed forward
to the assault. The enemy had been driven from the third redoubt and the
captain was giving directions to push on to the fourth and last, when he
(the captain) was tapped on the shoulder by this Amazon, who was
standing with her clothes tucked up to her knees. She cried out, "Weel
din, ma Heiland lads, weel din! See how they scamper!" "Come," added
she, "let us drive them from yonder hill." She had been in the hottest
fire, cheering and animating the men, and when the action was over was
as active as any of the surgeons in attending upon the wounded. We would
here remark that so long as Britain can produce such heroic mothers her
sons will ever uphold her flag.
We next find the Black Watch, together with other Highland regiments,
under their old and much respected commander, Sir Ralph Abercrombie,
forcing a landing in Napoleon's teeth, notwithstanding that he was
backed up by his so-called "Invincible" legions. The Black Watch was one
of the regiments under Sir John Moore. Sir John, with five thousand men,
effected a landing. As this noble band neared the shore a storm of shot,
shell, grape, and musketry crashed through them, but these gallant
fellows landed, and formed into line. They then swept the sandy beach,
and Napoleon's pets were lifted from the field with the bayonet, and
were scattered like chaff before the wind. Then the cavalry, clad in
glittering steel, came down upon these brave men; but they were coolly
met with shot and steel, and driven from the field. The intrepidity here
displayed was worthy of their fame. The enemy fled in confusion to
Alexandria. The remainder of our army then landed. The enemy took up a
strong position on this now historic ground, and the armies of two
greatest nations of modern times stood face to face to contend for the
laurels of victory. It is not my intention to attempt to describe the
terrible battle of Alexandria. Sir Ralph Abercrombie fell in the hour of
victory. He had aroused the enthusiasm of the troops by a pithy address.
"My brave Highlanders," he said, "remember your country; remember your
forefathers!" Like an arrow from a bow the line swept forward. The Black
Watch with deadly steel broke through the masses of Napoleon's chosen
"Invincibles," and swept them from the field. The old "Forty Twa's"
taught the enemy a terrible lesson, and largely helped to nail victory
to our glorious old standard. Their loss was heavy, being 15 officers, 6
sergeants, and 295 men. The next engagement of importance in which the
Black Watch takes a conspicuous part is that of Corunna, and right well
they upheld their reputation. My readers must remember that this battle
was fought under great disadvantage. The army under Sir John Moore had
just halted, after a long retreat, enduring hardships which destroyed
half the army. But the lion was now at bay, a battle must be fought and
won, and although the whole army was in a state of utter destitution,
they again proved to the boasting enemy, who were exulting in their
strength, that the sons of Britain had not degenerated since the days of
Blenheim. The enemy advanced in all the glory of war, but the sons of
Albion stood immoveable and undaunted until they received the order to
advance. Sir John Moore might well say, "Well done 50th." Turning to the
Black Watch, that noble hero exclaimed, "Highlanders, remember Egypt."
It was enough. They swept the pride of France from the field. But Sir
John met a soldier's death. He was struck by a cannon ball in the
breast. Like Nelson, he lived long enough to know that he had gained a
glorious victory. In his last moments he asked if the French were
beaten. Being answered in the affirmative, he said he hoped the people
of England would be satisfied, adding, "I hope my country will do me
justice; say to my mother"--here his voice quite failed. "A brave man
and a loving son." After enquiring about friends who had been in the
thick of the fight, he spoke kindly to all around him, and then gently
passed away. Such was the termination of Sir John Moore's career. It was
indeed a "death of honour." He has left a name which will always be
gratefully remembered by England, and an example which her defenders
will do well to imitate. Although their beloved chief was struck down,
it did not damp the spirits of our noble-hearted soldiers. No; but woe
to the enemy their steel could reach. After Sir John fell, the old 42nd
sprang upon the foe with a wild shriek, and smote them with a terrible
slaughter, and fully vindicated their reputation for heroic prowess. The
victory here gained enabled the British army to embark without being
further molested, so thoroughly had the terrible repulses of the
preceding day inspired the French with respect for British valour. But
the hero, Sir John Moore, was left alone in his glory. Not a word was
spoken as they laid him in his grave, by torch-light, wrapped in his
military cloak.
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corpse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot,
O'er the grave where our hero was buried!
We buried him darkly at the dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.
No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
But left him alone in his glory.
But our gallant and generous enemy erected a tomb with the following
inscription:--
JOHN MOORE,
LEADER OF THE ENGLISH ARMIES,
Slain in battle, 1809.
But to return. At "grim Busaco" the old Black Watch fully maintained
their reputation for intrepidity, handling the pets of Napoleon very
roughly. But at Fuentes de Oñoro the Highlanders came out in their true
colours. On this field they were as firm as the rocks of the mountains
they hailed from. It was the 71st and 79th who particularly
distinguished themselves. Side by side the 88th, Connaught Rangers,
crossed bayonets with the Imperial Guards. The conquerors of Wagram,
Jena, and Friedland had to bow before them, for they laid them on the
ground with the rush of cold steel. An incident occurred here worth
mentioning. The officer who carried the colours of the 79th fell dead. A
sergeant at once called out with a loud voice, "An officer to bear the
colours of the 79th." One at once sprang forward, and was immediately
shot down. "An officer to bear the colours" again shouted the sergeant.
Another hero at once seized them, and was also killed. A third and
fourth time the gallant sergeant called out, and as fast as the colours
were raised the bearer fell dead or fatally wounded. The adjutant then
rushed up, exclaiming, "The 79th shall never want one to carry its
colours while I can stand," and he carried them in safety throughout the
glorious day. The fighting was of a terrible character, the bayonet
being the chief weapon of combat. But the boasting enemy found out who
were the best hands at using it. No quarter was given or taken, and the
field remained in the hands of the sons of Albion. Among the rocks of
the mountains of the Pyrenees the conduct of the Highlanders was
sublime, and the heroism displayed by the 92nd was the object of
admiration of all who could see them. Napier says the 92nd Highlanders
were composed principally of Irishmen at this time, but with all due
respect to him, we believe the gallant colonel has made a mistake, for
from authentic records handed down to us we find at the time of their
heroic deeds at the Pass of Puerta-de-Mary this noble regiment was
composed as follows:--
Country. Sergts. Corporals. Drummers. Privates. Total.
Scotland 56 47 8 784 895
England 0 0 2 34 36
Ireland 0 2 1 58 62
Foreigners 1 3 3 14 21
N.B.--Nearly all the officers were Scotch.
Soult, the veteran Marshal of France, had been out-generalled and beaten
at all points. In rage he called his countrymen cowards. "Cowards,"
cried this noble veteran, "where are you flying to; you call yourselves
Frenchmen; halt, and face the foe in the name of heaven." Stung to the
quick, they halted and formed, but melted like snow under the rays of a
summer's sun from a rush of Highland bayonets. All regiments engaged had
freely used the bayonet, and the enemy appeared to have a wholesale
dread of the once despised sons of Albion, and the heroic sons of the
Green Isle.
We pass on to note that on the bloody fields of Neville, Nive, Orthes,
and Toulouse the old "Forty Twa's" nobly upheld the reputation acquired
by their forefathers, and taught the French to respect our flag. Their
conduct at Toulouse was beyond all praise, for if the enemy had
forgotten His Majesty King George III., the 42nd Highlanders reminded
them at Mont Blanc that they were still fighting under the flag they
loved so well. The fight was a close one, but the Highlanders captured
redoubt after redoubt, chasing the quailing enemy from the field in
grand style. It was a good wind up to a long and bloody struggle, and
the old 42nd were never once beaten.
The war being now over, the Highlanders returned home, covered with
honours. Napoleon had been crushed by combined Europe, and was sent to
the isle of Elba. He still retained his title of Emperor. His stay here
was of short duration. He burst from his narrow prison, landed in the
Gulf of St. Juan, near Frejus, in triumph, and set Europe once more in a
blaze. It was well ordained by an all-wise Providence, for matters had
come to such a pitch in the General Congress at Vienna, that the whole
of Europe was just about to fly at one another's throats squabbling over
the spoil. The news that Napoleon had broken his pledge and had secretly
left Elba re-united the disputants. An army was at once got together and
placed under the command of the Duke of Wellington, and as fast as the
regiments could be embarked they were sent off to the Netherlands. A
portion of the troops was not at home but in America. The following
Highland regiments particularly distinguished themselves on the fields
of Quatre Bras and Waterloo: the Scots Grays, the Scots Fusilier Guards,
the 1st Royals (now called the Lothian Regiment), 2nd battalion 42nd
(Black Watch), 71st, 79th, and 92nd (Gordon Highlanders). They all nobly
did their duty, as their losses will testify. Napoleon had not been
idle; he knew well that he would have to combat the whole of Europe, and
he quickly collected around his standard a strong army of grim veterans.
During the short peace the prisons on the continent, and ours also, had
been thrown open, and all prisoners of war released. Napoleon's name had
such a charm that the bravest of the brave ranged themselves under his
standard. Marshals Ney, Soult, and Grouchy, and a number of others less
known but not less brave; Count D'Erton, Count Rolle, Count Vandamme,
Count Gerrard, Count Loban, Count Pagob, Excelmans, Kellerman, and
Milhand--threw in their lots with this usurper, determined to conquer or
die. We say again that the army that was routed from the field of
Waterloo was composed of veterans who hardly knew what defeat was,
except a portion which had confronted us in the Peninsula campaigns. The
heroes of Marengo, Friedland, Austerlitz, Jena, Wagram, Borodino,
Dresden, Bantzen, with some that had witnessed the conflagration of
Moscow, and the rout from the field of Leipsic, all were bound in one
common tie. Napoleon might well say of such a host, led by such leaders
as the heroic Ney, "For every Frenchman who has a heart the moment has
arrived to conquer or die." His Imperial Guards mustered 12,870
infantry; they had conquered on almost every field on which Napoleon had
fought. But the gauntlet was about to be thrown down at the feet of one
who proved more than a match for these spoilt "Invincibles." Meanwhile
the British Government were straining every nerve to meet the coming
conflict. Our forefathers stood nobly forth in this death-struggle, for,
in addition to an enormous expenditure, all the continental nations had
we to assist, or not a company, so to speak, could any of them put into
the field to combat the terror of the world. All were nearly bankrupt.
Russia received as a loan close upon £3,500,000, Austria nearly
£2,000,000, Prussia nearly £2,500,000, and the smaller states, such as
Spain, Portugal, Sweden, Italy, Holland, the Netherlands, and Hanover,
received assistance from us to the tune of £2,800,000. Ireland was in
great distress at the time, and we assisted her with the nice round sum
of £7,277,000, at 1 per cent, interest; and my young readers must
remember all this took place after we had continued a war with France,
which was for very existence, for about twenty-one years.
The two great commanders who had vanquished every other antagonist were
now for the first time to be brought into collision. The "conqueror of
Europe" was now to measure swords with the "deliverer of Spain." Mark
the difference in these two great men. Napoleon was covetous of glory;
Wellington was impressed with duty; Napoleon was reckless of slaughter,
so long as he gained his purpose; Wellington was sparing of blood. He
has been known to completely break down as he rode over a field of
carnage. Napoleon was careless of his word, and anything but truthful
when a deliberate falsehood would suit his purpose. Wellington was
inviolate in faith. Napoleon's wasting warfare converted allies into
enemies; Wellington's protecting discipline changed enemies into
friends. The former fell because all Europe rose against him; the latter
triumphed because all Europe joined to place itself under his guidance.
There is not a proclamation of Napoleon to his army in which glory is
not mentioned, or one in which duty is alluded to. There is not an order
of Wellington's to his troops in which duty is not inculcated, nor one
in which glory is mentioned. Such were the two commanders who had
centred upon the attention of the civilised world, and who decided the
fate of Europe on the field of Waterloo.[37]
The 42nd, 79th, and 92nd Highlanders formed a part of Sir Thomas
Picton's division. Sir Thomas arrived on the field, after a long, hot,
and exciting march, for Marshal Ney had attacked the Brunswickers and
Belgians. The former fought well, but numbers already prevailed. The key
of the position was in the possession of the enemy, the Marshal of
France. The fire-eating Picton could see that they were in a terrible
plight, but as soon as he caught sight of their huge columns the old
veteran called out, "There are your enemies, men, beat them," His
division was composed of the following regiments: the 28th, 32nd, 42nd,
44th, 79th, 92nd, 95th, 1st and 3rd battalions--total, about 5000,
including officers. The honour of old England was in their keeping, it
was "do or die!" a handful against a host, for Marshal Ney had under his
command 46,786 men and 116 guns. The terrible Cuirassiers, who had
ridden over Russians, Austrians, Prussians, Spaniards, and Portuguese,
came down like a whirlwind upon these devoted regiments, shaking their
sabres in the air, confident of victory, and shouting with all their
might, "Down with the English." But our soldiers stood immovable as if
rivetted to the earth. The French horsemen dashed headlong at our
squares, but no opening could they find or force, and were compelled to
retire with their ranks shattered. The key of the position must be won.
It was won, and that in grand style. The bayonet was brought down, and
the pipers struck up "The Campbells are coming." They bade defiance to
the enemy. This unequal fight lasted for several hours. The Cuirassiers
and Lancers of the Guard repeatedly charged them with all the vehemence
of fanatics. Sometimes the little band were attacked on all sides at
once by the flower of the French cavalry; but it was unavailing.
Hundreds of the bravest of the French bit the dust, and the remainder
bolted like a well-greased "nigger." The 42nd lost four commanders in as
many minutes, viz., Col. Sir R. Macara, K.C.B., Lieut.-Colonel Dick,
C.B., Major Davidson, and Major Campbell; but these losses
notwithstanding, our soldiers nobly held their ground. The achievements
of this band of heroes will live in the pages of history to the end of
time. All honour to the brave!
"They were true to the last of their blood and their birth,
And like reapers advanced to the harvest of death."
Reinforcements were now coming up, and the eagle eye of Wellington was
now on the field. It was no longer the death-struggle it had been. The
Third Division and Guards soon put the finishing stroke upon Napoleon's
pets. The brunt of this desperate combat fell upon the Highlanders, as
their loss will testify. In the 42nd, 18 officers and 288 men fell; in
the 79th, 26 officers and 204 men; in the 92nd, 20 officers and 286 men;
and we say all honour to the two battalions of Guards. To rescue the
Highlanders from their critical position they fought as only Britons
will fight, and their loss was as follows: 2nd battalion Grenadiers, 8
officers and 285 men; 3rd battalion Grenadiers, 9 officers and 262 men.
Thus far we had acted principally upon the defensive, but with the
divisions that were now coming up the Duke turned the tables. He ordered
the whole line to advance, and he thus drove the impetuous Marshal Ney
and his boasting legions from the field, and the victorious "thin red
line" sank down amid dead and dying, friend and foe, for a few hours'
repose. Many of these veterans had marched close upon thirty miles,
heavily laden, and had then decided a doubtful field in favour of the
"flag that has braved a thousand years the battle and the breeze." Our
conquering commander knew well that he had yet to face the "terror of
Europe." But, reader, moral strength in war is to physical strength as
three to one. The fight that was just over was only a skirmish compared
to what was to follow. Napoleon had beaten Marshal Blücher at Ligny with
great slaughter, and in order to keep up communication with the Prussian
commander, Wellington retired to the memorable field of Waterloo. It is
not my intention to go into the oft-told tale of Waterloo, but to keep
as near my subject as possible. All did their duty nobly, and would
again should the honour of the flag that every true Briton loves ever
again be in danger. Unity is strength. Shoulder to shoulder we must
advance with levelled steel, shoulder to shoulder we must stand and
return flash for flash and shot for shot, and if Britons are true to
themselves, shoulder to shoulder they will die, but never yield.
The armies that confronted each other on the plains of Waterloo were as
different to each other as chalk is to cheese. The one all speaking the
same language, all bound by one common tie, they all looked up to their
great commander as invincible, and all exulting in their supposed
invincibility, except that portion which had so often confronted us
during the Peninsula campaigns. "Never," said Napoleon, "had my troops
been animated with such spirit; the earth seemed proud of being trodden
by such combatants." So confident of victory was this spoilt child of
fortune, that in exultation he exclaimed, "I have them, these
English."[38] The odds were heavy against us. They were 80,000 men, with
250 guns, against 67,000 and 156 guns, but the great difference
consisted in the quality of the troops. Wellington had over twenty
thousand under his standards, many of them being, shall I say, doubtful
friends-nay worse than that, they were traitors and cowards. The
Belgians would not face the foe, but bolted clean off the field as fast
as a dog with a tin kettle at his tail could go. It was a motley mass:
British, Germans, Hanoverians, Brunswickers, Dutch, and Belgians--all
speaking different languages. Marshal Soult respected the British, for
he said he knew that they were the very devil in the fight, particularly
in a close fight, and that they would die on the ground where they stood
rather than retreat. Up to that time never was a nobler spectacle
witnessed. The old veterans were struck with a feeling of awe as they
gazed at each other. Picton's heroes were soon called upon to hold the
post of honour. D'Erlon's men advanced bravely; they knew their beloved
Emperor's eyes were upon them, and, confident in their strength, they
advanced; but the undaunted Picton was there to confront them, with the
42nd, 44th, 92nd, and Royal Scots. These noble fellows hurled in one
volley and down came the queen of weapons, and the mighty column of the
French was broken into fragments. The hero of many fights fell; the
heroic Picton fell I say, waving on the Highlanders with the words,
"Charge! Charge! Hurrah!" Then, as at Salamanca, the Union Brigade of
heavy horse went straight at the reeling columns of the enemy, the Scots
Grays shouting "Scotland for ever." Some of the 42nd and 92nd caught up
the fire, and clinging to the stirrups of the Grays, went in with them.
It was this time "Down with the French," for that column had a bad time
of it. Three thousand prisoners and two eagles were taken; one of the
eagles being captured by Sergeant Ewart of the Grays. It belonged to the
45th Invincibles; on it were inscribed the words, "Jena," "Austerlitz,"
"Wagram," "Eylan," and "Friedland." But this noble brigade did not stop
at trifles; they dashed on and on, cutting down all that came in their
way until they reached the terrible battery which had swept a number of
their comrades down. The gunners were cut down at their guns; the horses
hamstrung, and the tackle hacked to pieces, thus rendering some 40 guns
useless for the remainder of the day. I think I hear my young readers
say "Well done the Union Brigade." Their commander, Gen. Sir W. Ponsonby
fell, and the brigade lost half their number. We had two masters in the
art of war face to face. Napoleon witnessed the terrible charge and its
effects. He instantly ordered forward his, as he thought, matchless
Cuirassiers. No power on earth seemed capable of withstanding them.
Picton's heroes at once threw themselves into squares, and the enemy
came on with vehement cries of "Vive l'Empereur," and "Down with the
English;" but they were met with a fearful storm of lead which swept
whole squadrons to mother earth. Our troops fought with desperation, and
vain were all attempts of the French to break our infantry. The French
with all their martial pride were compelled to retreat in disorder from
the frightful strife. Our commanders would call out at times--"Steady,
men, steady; our time will come yet." At one time our great commander
had to seek shelter from these terrible Cuirassiers inside the square
of the 95th. "Stand fast, 95th," said Wellington, "we must not be
beaten, or what will they say of us in England." "Never fear, sir, we
are a match for them," was the reply; and to their cost the French found
it so. In and around Hougoumont the desperate strife raged for hours.
Huge columns were repulsed time after time, and as fast as one was
broken into fragments another took its place, all under the watchful eye
of their beloved Emperor. The conduct of the Scots Fusilier Guards was
beyond all praise. Here the Briton came out in his native lustre.
Nothing could dismay him, for unbroken stood that line of red
majestically firm; and all the boasting sons of Gaul could not capture
that old farm house and orchard from the sons of Albion. Napoleon's
furious attacks had been baffled at all points. The Prussians were now
coming up, and the French decided that one more effort on a grand scale
must be made in order to drive these detestable English from the field.
The old Guards were formed up, led by Marshal Ney; the Emperor came part
of the way with them, and bade them God speed, but it was unavailing.
They were met at the onset with that terrible weapon the bayonet, and
grim-faced as they were they had to bow before the conquering British.
They fought with desperation; they carried an empire at the points of
their bayonets; but the sons of Albion, side by side with the loyal boys
of the Green Isle, won the victory, and secured peace and plenty for
forty years. The total loss of the Highland regiments during this
sanguinary fighting was 165 officers and 2127 non-commissioned officers
and men, out of a total strength of 5174.
"Night closed around that conquering band,
The lightning showed the distant field,
Where they who won that bloody day,
Though few and faint, were fearless still."
Any impartial historian must award the highest praise to the "thin red
line," for including the King's German Legion and Hanoverians,
Wellington had only 52,000 upon whom he could rely to resist the attacks
continued during seven long hours of 80,000 veterans, directed by
Napoleon in person. These attacks were so vehement that no power on
earth seemed capable of stopping them. But the stubborn pluck of the
British on this field, as at Albuera, came out in all its brilliance.
Shoulder to shoulder they advanced at Quatre Bras, determined to conquer
or die. It was Albuera repeated, and on the red field of Waterloo they
stood to be mowed down until their invincible chief ordered them to
advance. Then it was "Scotland for ever." They then smote the boasting
legions of Napoleon, captured all their guns, and rolled them up in
indescribable confusion, and largely helped to nail victory to our flag.
The 18th June, 1815, must as long as time shall last, or until swords
are broken and made into ploughshares, be the proudest of all the many
proud days of British martial glory. For Napoleon himself said
afterwards, if he could have defeated Wellington at Waterloo, what would
have availed all the multitudes of Russians, Austrians, Spaniards, or
Prussians, who were crowding to the Rhine, the Alps, or the Pyrenees. He
could have beaten them all in detail. But for humanity's sake a merciful
Providence ordered it otherwise. Victory on this occasion did not, as on
many other fields, side with the strongest battalions, for the Atheist
(Napoleon) found to his cost on this memorable and bloody field that
there is a God that ruleth the armies of heaven and earth, and upon the
strength of the sovereign power of God Britain depended, and does still
depend, and we trust is not ashamed to acknowledge it. Every honest,
thinking Briton will Say with the writer, "So mote it be."
The victorious Highlanders marched on to Paris, where a British drum,
bugle, or pibroch had not been heard for four hundred years. The
tyrannical usurper was struck down, and guilty, haughty France had to
eat a lot of "humble pie" made by a pastry cook whom they had so much
despised, viz., John Bull, assisted by a number of the sons of the
Emerald Isle--"_Quis separabit._" Peace was now purchased by the blood
of some thousands of the best and bravest of the sons of Britain. The
victorious army remained in France until 1818, under the command of the
immortal Duke who had so often led them from victory to victory, until
the whole of Europe stood amazed at the doings of our soldiers. The
Highlanders now returned home, to be almost killed with kindness. They
were greeted by enthusiastic crowds, and in every town had cross fires
to meet, not of shot, shell, or musketry, but of brandy, rum, gin,
whisky, and ales, to say nothing of the broad-sides they got from pretty
lasses; for on all the fields they had fought the pretty girls
acknowledged the men in petticoats "second to none:" for
"Whatever he did was done with so much ease,
In him alone 'twas natural to please;
His motions all accompanied with grace,
And Paradise was opened in his face."--_Dryden._
Britain had been blessed with peace for nearly forty years, when Russian
perfidy brought about the Crimean war, and the 42nd Highlanders, or
Black Watch, the 79th Cameron Highlanders, and the 93rd Sutherland
Highlanders, with the Scots Grays and Scots Fusilier Guards, were called
upon to rally round the British standard. Their conduct at the Alma was
heroic. The great redoubt had been carried by the Light and Second
Divisions. The Russians did not at all like the appearance of the giants
in petticoats, for these stalwart regiments, the 42nd, 79th, and 93rd,
advanced, knowing well they had a spotless fame bequeathed to them by
their forefathers; and these noble regiments had made up their minds
that it should not be tarnished. They were commanded by one who had
often led them to victory--Sir Colin Campbell, K.C.B. His Highland
blood was roused, and waving his sword high in the air he exclaimed,
"We'll have none but Highland bonnets here;" and right well did these
noble regiments sweep all before them. The enemy did not wait for what
they would have got, viz., the bayonet, but bolted; they did not like
the appearance of these hardy mountaineers. We say again,
"The fierce native daring which instils
The stirring memory of a thousand years."
And none better deserved the love and gratitude of Britain. The honour
of our flag was at stake. The enemy had boasted that he would drive us
all into the sea, but their souls sank at the determined advance of our
soldiers. We pass on to the plains of Balaclava, on which the thin red
streak tipped with steel only two deep was too much for the boasting
Muscovite. Sir Colin Campbell had drawn his Highlanders up, disdaining
to form square to receive the advancing enemy's cavalry. It was do or
die. The 93rd opened a fire which emptied a number of the enemy's
saddles. By this time the Russians were in possession of our batteries;
which in this instance, unfortunately, were not manned by British
soldiers, but by the Turks, who fled from the enemy like hares before
the hounds, and in their hasty flight from the field met a terrible foe,
who attacked them with all the fury of a maniac. They in terror rushed
through the camp of the 93rd Highlanders, shouting "Ship! ship!" A
stalwart enraged woman, wife of one of the Highlanders, dashed out of
her tent, armed with a good cudgel, and laid about her right and left
without mercy. Selecting one of these cowards, the biggest she could
find, this dame thrashed him right well, holding him with a grip of iron
all the time. We think some of the faithful will have cause to remember
this Christian woman as long as they live. This incident caused no small
amusement in the 93rd, who had sterner duties before them. But with all
due respect to our ally the Turks, it must be remembered that they were
attacked by ten times their own number. Many of them fought well.
It was on this field that the Union Brigade of matchless cavalry, as at
Waterloo, went at the foe. It was cavalry charging cavalry. These noble
horsemen--under General Scarlett--advanced at a steady trot to meet a
host more than ten times their number.
After the Russian cavalry had retired, that fire-eating old commander,
the hero of a hundred fights, Sir Colin Campbell, rode up to the front
of the Greys, with hat in hand, and exclaimed with pride, "Greys,
gallant Greys, I am past sixty-one years; if I were young again I should
be proud to be in your ranks; you are worthy of your forefathers." The
French officers were in admiration of the doings of the Heavy Brigade.
They had watched the fight of a handful against a host, and exclaimed it
was truly magnificent. The victory of the Heavy Brigade was the most
glorious thing they had ever seen. The French commander sent a tribute
of admiration to Lord Lucan, and Lord Raglan conveyed a message by an
aide-de-camp in two syllables to General Scarlett--"Well done!"
As regards the remainder of the campaign, the Highlanders took their
turn in the trenches from the spring of 1855 until the town fell, but
our commanders kept them in reserve. We could have well done with their
assistance on the blood-stained height of Inkermann, for had that noble
brigade been with us the enemy would not have got off as cheaply as they
did, although they paid well for a peep at our camp; and as far as the
storming of the town was concerned, had they been by the side of us the
enemy would have gone into the harbour at the point of the bayonet, or
laid down their arms. The war, as far as fighting was concerned, ended
with the fall of that far-famed town, Sebastopol, September 8th, 1855.
The Highlanders returned home for a short time, but peace was of brief
duration. India, the brightest gem in her most gracious Majesty's crown,
was tottering. It was held in the hands of a few desperate men until
assistance could reach them. These men might well claim the motto of
Napoleon's old Guard--"The Guards die but never surrender." No regiment
came out with more honour than the 78th Highlanders under the brave Sir
H. Havelock. To give full particulars of all the fights--they fought in
the first relief of Lucknow--would be to fill a large volume. Their
conduct on every occasion was beyond all praise. They never waited to
count the enemy. "There they are, men," said that noble Christian hero
on more than one field, "beat them." It may be honestly said of that
noble band, that they tried to do their duty, both in the relief and
gallant defence of Lucknow. But help was on the way; the 42nd, 71st,
72nd, 79th, and 93rd were on march to assist in stamping out the last
spark of rebellion. Suffice it to say that all engaged, both army and
navy, nobly did their duty; the honour of our glorious old flag was at
stake, and the Highland lads were determined to uphold it or die in the
attempt.
In all our little wars or pic-nics in Abyssinia, 1868; Ashantee, 1874;
Africa, 1879-80; Afghanistan, 1879-80; Egypt, 1882-4, they have ever
proved more than a match for multitudinous fanatics. These noble fellows
have won their spurs from nobler foes, armed with as good a weapon as
their own; but it is not my intention to follow these gallant regiments
through all the muddles the "grand old man" has got them into. Suffice
it to say that the Zulus, Abyssinians, Ashantees, Afghans, Egyptians,
and the wild fanatical Soudanese will respectfully remember the men in
petticoats; and should our country get into any other muddle we feel
confident these loyal-hearted sons of Scotland will ever do their duty.
We now wish them, and the loyal boys of the Green Isle, a hearty "God
speed."
THE BRITISH ARMY, 1886.
The following table will prove of much interest to all who wish to trace
the crimson records of our army. It will show all the battles and
campaigns that have been fought from 1704 up to 1884, compiled from the
Horse Guards Records, according to seniority:--
REGIMENT. NAME OF ENGAGEMENT.
1ST LIFE GUARDS.--Dettingen, Peninsula, Waterloo, Egypt,
1882, Tel-el-Kebir.
2ND LIFE GUARDS.--Dettingen, Peninsula, Waterloo, Egypt,
1882, Tel-el-Kebir.
ROYAL HORSE GUARDS (THE BLUES).--Dettingen, Peninsula,
Waterloo, Egypt, 1882, Tel-el-Kebir.
1ST KING'S DRAGOON GUARDS.--Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde,
Malplaquet, Dettingen, Waterloo, Sevastopol, Taku Forts,
Pekin, South Africa, 1879.
2ND DRAGOON GUARDS (QUEEN'S BAYS).--Lucknow.
3RD (PRINCE OF WALES') DRAGOON GUARDS.--Blenheim, Ramillies,
Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Talavera, Albuera, Vittoria,
Peninsula, Abyssinia.
4TH (ROYAL IRISH) DRAGOON GUARDS.--Peninsula, Balaklava,
Sevastopol, Egypt, 1882, Tel-el-Kebir.
5TH (PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES'S) DRAGOON
GUARDS.--Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet,
Salamanca, Vittoria, Toulouse, Peninsula, Balaklava,
Sevastopol.
6TH DRAGOON GUARDS (CARABINIERS).--Blenheim, Ramillies,
Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Sevastopol, Delhi, Afghanistan,
1879-80.
7TH (PRINCESS ROYAL'S) DRAGOON GUARDS.--Blenheim, Ramillies,
Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Dettingen, South Africa, 1846-7,
Egypt, 1882, Tel-el-Kebir.
1ST ROYAL DRAGOONS.--Dettingen, Peninsula, Waterloo,
Balaklava, Sevastopol.
2ND DRAGOONS (ROYAL SCOTS GRAYS).--Blenheim, Ramillies,
Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Dettingen, Waterloo, Balaklava,
Sevastopol.
3RD (KING'S OWN) HUSSARS.--Dettingen, Salamanca, Vittoria,
Toulouse, Peninsula, Kabul, 1842, Moodkee, Ferozesha,
Sobraon, Punjab, Chillinwallah, Googerat.
4TH (QUEEN'S OWN) HUSSARS.--Dettingen, Talavera, Albuera,
Salamanca, Vittoria, Toulouse, Peninsula, Afghanistan,
Ghuznee, Alma, Balaklava, Inkermann, Sevastopol.
5TH (ROYAL IRISH) LANCERS.--Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde,
Malplaquet, Suakin, 1885.
6TH (INNISKILLING) DRAGOONS.--Dettingen, Waterloo,
Balaklava, Sevastopol.
7TH (QUEEN'S OWN) HUSSARS.--Dettingen, Peninsula, Waterloo,
Lucknow.
8TH (KING'S ROYAL IRISH) HUSSARS.--Laswarree, Hindostan,
Alma, Balaklava, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Central India,
Afghanistan, 1879-80.
9TH (QUEEN'S ROYAL) LANCERS.--Peninsula, Punniar, Sobraon,
Punjab, Chillinwallah, Goojerat, Delhi, Lucknow, Charasiah,
Kabul, 1879, Kandahar, 1880, Afghanistan, 1878-80.
10TH (PRINCE OF WALES' OWN ROYAL) HUSSARS.--Peninsula,
Waterloo, Sevastopol, Ali-Musjid, Afghanistan, 1878-9,
Egypt, 1884.
11TH (PRINCE ALBERT'S OWN) HUSSARS.--Salamanca, Peninsula,
Waterloo, Bhurtpore, Alma, Balaklava, Inkermann, Sevastopol.
12TH (PRINCE OR WALES') LANCERS.--Egypt, Peninsula,
Waterloo, South Africa, 1851-2-3, Sevastopol, Central India.
13TH HUSSARS.--Peninsula, Waterloo, Alma, Balaklava,
Inkermann, Sevastopol.
14TH (KING'S) HUSSARS.--Douro, Talavera, Fuentes d'Onor,
Salamanca, Vittoria, Orthes, Peninsula, Punjab,
Chillinwallah, Goojerat, Persia, Central India.
15TH (KING'S) HUSSARS.--Emsdorf, Villiers-en-Couche,
Egmont-op-Zee, Sahagun, Vittoria, Peninsula, Waterloo,
Afghanistan, 1878-80.
16TH (QUEEN'S) LANCERS.--Talavera, Fuentes d'Onor,
Salamanca, Vittoria, Nive, Peninsula, Waterloo, Bhurtpore,
Afghanistan, Ghuznee, Maharajpore, Aliwal, Sobraon.
17TH (DUKE OF. CAMBRIDGE'S OWN) LANCERS.--Alma, Balaklava,
Inkermann, Sevastopol, Central India, South Africa, 1879.
18TH HUSSARS.--Peninsula, Waterloo.
19TH HUSSARS.--Assaye, Niagara, Egypt, 1882-4, Tel-el-Kebir,
Nile, 1884-5, Abou Klea.
20TH HUSSARS.--Peninsula, Suakin, 1885.
21ST HUSSARS.--_Nil._
THE ROYAL REGIMENT OF ARTILLERY.--This noble arm of the
service has served in all quarters of the globe, and in
every battle, from Crecy down to the present time.
In tracing out the honours of our Infantry, to assist the reader we give
their old titles and their new-fangled territorial distinctions.
GRENADIER GUARDS.--Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde,
Malplaquet, Dettingen, Lincelles, Corunna, Barrosa,
Peninsula, Waterloo, Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Egypt,
1882, Tel-el-Kebir, Suakin, 1885.
COLDSTREAM GUARDS.--Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Dettingen,
Lincelles, Egypt, Talavera, Barrosa, Peninsula, Waterloo,
Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Egypt, 1882, Tel-el-Kebir.
SCOTS FUSILIER GUARDS, _now_ SCOTS GUARDS.--Dettingen,
Lincelles, Egypt, Talavera, Barrosa, Peninsula, Waterloo,
Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Egypt, 1882, Tel-el-Kebir,
Suakin, 1885.
1ST ROYALS, _now_ THE ROYAL SCOTS (LOTHIAN
REGIMENT).--Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet,
Louisburg, St. Lucia, Egmont-op-Zee, Egypt, Corunna, Busaco,
Salamanca, Vittoria, St. Sebastian, Nive, Peninsula,
Niagara, Waterloo, Nagpore, Maheidpore, Ava, Alma,
Inkermann, Sevastopol, Taku Forts, Pekin.
2ND QUEEN'S, _now_ THE QUEEN'S (ROYAL WEST SURREY
REGIMENT).--Egypt, Vimiera, Corunna, Salamanca, Vittoria,
Pyrenees, Nivelle, Toulouse, Peninsula, Afghanistan,
Ghuznee, Khelat, South Africa, 1851-2-3, Taku Forts, Pekin.
3RD BUFFS, _now_ THE BUFFS (EAST KENT REGIMENT).--Blenheim,
Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Dettingen, Douro,
Talavera, Albuera, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Peninsula,
Punnair, Sevastopol, Taku Forts, South Africa, 1879.
4TH KING'S OWN, _now_ THE KING'S OWN (ROYAL LANCASTER
REGIMENT).--Corunna, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, St.
Sebastian, Nive, Peninsula, Bladensburg, Waterloo, Alma,
Inkermann, Sevastopol, Abyssinia, South Africa, 1879.
5TH FUSILIERS, _now_ THE NORTHUMBERLAND
FUSILIERS.--Wilhelmstahl, Roleia, Vimiera, Corunna, Busaco,
Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, Nivelle,
Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Lucknow, Afghanistan, 1878-80.
6TH WARWICKSHIRE, _now_ THE ROYAL WARWICKSHIRE
REGIMENT.--Roleia, Vimiera, Corunna, Vittoria, Pyrenees,
Nivelle, Orthes, Peninsula, Niagara, South Africa, 1846-7,
South Africa, 1851-2-3.
7TH ROYAL FUSILIERS, _now_ THE ROYAL FUSILIERS (CITY OF
LONDON REGIMENT).--Martinique, Talavera, Albuera, Badajoz,
Salamanca, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula,
Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Kandahar, 1880, Afghanistan,
1879-80.
8TH KING'S OWN, _now_ THE KING'S (LIVERPOOL
REGIMENT).--Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet,
Dettingen, Egypt, Martinique, Niagara, Delhi, Lucknow,
Peiwar Kotal, Afghanistan, 1878-80.
9TH FOOT, _now_ THE NORFOLK REGIMENT.--Roleia, Vimiera,
Corunna, Busaco, Salamanca, Vittoria, St. Sebastian, Nive,
Peninsula, Kabul, 1842, Moodkee, Ferozeshah, Sobraon,
Sevastopol, Kabul, 1879, Afghanistan, 1879-80.
10TH FOOT, _now_ THE LINCOLNSHIRE REGIMENT.--Blenheim,
Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Egypt, Peninsula, Sobraon,
Punjaub, Mooltan, Goojerat, Lucknow.
11TH FOOT, _now_ THE DEVONSHIRE REGIMENT.--Dettingen,
Salamanca, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Orthes, Toulouse,
Peninsula, Afghanistan, 1879-80.
12TH FOOT, _now_ THE SUFFOLK REGIMENT.--Dettingen, Minden,
Gibraltar, Seringapatam, India, South Africa, 1851-2-3, New
Zealand, Afghanistan, 1878-80.
13TH LIGHT INFANTRY, _now_ THE PRINCE ALBERT'S
(SOMERSETSHIRE LIGHT INFANTRY).--Dettingen, Egypt,
Martinique, Ava, Afghanistan, Ghuznee, Jellelabad, Kabul,
1842, Sevastopol, South Africa, 1878-9.
14TH FOOT, _now_ THE PRINCE OF WALES' OWN (WEST YORKSHIRE
REGIMENT).--Tournay, Corunna, Java, Waterloo, Bhurtpore,
India, Sevastopol, New Zealand, Afghanistan, 1879-80.
15TH FOOT, _now_ THE EAST YORKSHIRE REGIMENT.--Blenheim,
Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Louisburg, Quebec, 1759,
Martinique, Guadaloupe, Afghanistan, 1879-80.
16TH FOOT, _now_ THE BEDFORDSHIRE REGIMENT.--Blenheim,
Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet.
17TH FOOT, _now_ THE LEICESTERSHIRE REGIMENT.--Louisburg,
Hindostan, Afghanistan, Ghuznee, Khelat, Sevastopol, Ali
Musjid, Afghanistan, 1878-9.
18TH ROYAL IRISH, _now_ THE ROYAL IRISH REGIMENT.--Blenheim,
Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Egypt, China, Pegu,
Sevastopol, New Zealand, Afghanistan, 1879-80, Egypt, 1882,
Tel-el-Kebir, Nile, 1884-5.
19TH FOOT, _now_ THE PRINCESS OF WALES'S OWN YORKSHIRE
REGIMENT.--Malplaquet, Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol.
20TH FOOT, _now_ THE LANCASHIRE FUSILIERS.--Dettingen,
Minden, Egmont-op-Zee, Egypt, Maida, Vimiera, Corunna,
Vittoria, Pyrenees, Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Alma,
Inkermann, Sevastopol, Lucknow.
21ST ROYAL NORTH BRITISH FUSILIERS, _now_ THE ROYAL SCOTS
FUSILIERS.--Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet,
Dettingen, Bladensburg, Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol, South
Africa, 1879.
22ND FOOT, _now_ THE CHESHIRE REGIMENT.--Louisburg, Meeanee,
Hyderabad, Scinde.
23RD ROYAL WELSH FUSILIERS, _now_ THE ROYAL WELSH
FUSILIERS.--Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet,
Dettingen, Minden, Egypt, Corunna, Martinique, Albuera,
Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Orthes,
Toulouse, Peninsula, Waterloo, Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol,
Lucknow, Ashantee.
24TH FOOT, _now_ THE SOUTH WALES BORDERERS.--Blenheim,
Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Egypt, Cape of Good Hope,
1806, Talavera, Fuentes d'Onor, Salamanca, Vittoria,
Pyrenees, Nivelle, Orthes, Peninsula, Punjaub,
Chillinwallah, Goojerat, South Africa, 1877-8-9.
25TH BORDERERS, _now_ THE KING'S OWN BORDERERS.--Minden,
Egmont-op-Zee, Egypt, Martinique, Afghanistan, 1878-80.
N.B.--All the above infantry regiments have two battalions, and are
linked together; but we now come to where our red tape gentlemen have
thought fit to break up and do away with old regimental distinctions.
Honours have likewise been transferred, so that regiments now have
honours on their colours they knew nothing of. The 90th Regiment was not
raised until the end of the last century.
1ST BATT. 26TH CAMERONIANS,
2ND BATT. 90TH LIGHT INFANTRY,
_now_ THE CAMERONIAN SCOTCH RIFLES.--Blenheim, Ramillies,
Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Mandora, Egypt, Corunna, Martinique,
Guadaloupe, China, South Africa, 1846-7, Sevastopol,
Lucknow, Abyssinia, South Africa, 1877-8-9.
1ST BATT. 27TH INNISKILLINGS,
2ND BATT. 108TH FOOT,
_now_ THE ROYAL INNISKILLING FUSILIERS.--St. Lucia, Egypt,
Maida, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle,
Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Waterloo, South Africa, 1835,
South Africa, 1846-7, Central India.
1ST BATT. 28TH OLD BRAGGS,
2ND BATT. 61ST FOOT,
_now_ THE GLOUCESTERSHIRE REGIMENT.--Ramillies, Louisburg,
Quebec, 1759, Egypt, Maida, Corunna, Talavera, Barossa,
Albuera, Salamanca, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive,
Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Waterloo, Punjaub,
Chillinwallah, Goojerat, Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Delhi.
1ST BATT. 29TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 36TH FOOT,
_now_ THE WORCESTERSHIRE REGIMENT.--Ramillies, Hindostan,
Roleia, Vimeira, Corunna, Talavera, Albuera, Salamanca,
Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula,
Ferozeshah, Sobraon, Punjaub, Chillinwallah, Goojerat.
1ST BATT. 30TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 59TH FOOT,
_now_ THE EAST LANCASHIRE REGIMENT.--Egypt, Cape of Good
Hope, 1806, Corunna, Java, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, St.
Sebastian, Nive, Peninsula, Waterloo, Bhurtpore, Alma,
Inkermann, Sevastopol, Canton, Ahmad Khel, Afghanistan,
1878-80.
1ST BATT. 31ST FOOT,
2ND BATT. 70TH FOOT,
_now_ THE EAST SURREY REGIMENT.--Dettingen, Guadaloupe,
Talavera, Albuera, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive,
Orthes, Peninsula, Kabul, 1842, Moodkee, Ferozeshah, Aliwal,
Sobraon, Sevastopol, Taku Forts, New Zealand, Afghanistan,
1878-9, Suakin, 1885.
1ST BATT. 32ND LIGHT INFANTRY,
2ND BATT. 46TH FOOT,
_now_ THE DUKE OF CORNWALL'S LIGHT INFANTRY.--Dettingen,
Dominica, Roleia, Vimiera, Corunna, Salamanca, Pyrenees,
Nivelle, Nive, Orthes, Peninsula, Waterloo, Punjaub,
Mooltan, Goojerat, Sevastopol, Lucknow, Egypt, 1882,
Tel-el-Kebir, Nile, 1884-5.
1ST BATT. 33RD, DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S OWN,
2ND BATT. 76TH FOOT,
_now_ THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S WEST RIDING
REGIMENT.--Dettingen, Hindostan, Seringapatam, Ally-Ghur,
Delhi, 1803, Leswarree, Deig, Nive, Peninsula, Waterloo,
Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Abyssinia.
1ST BATT. 34TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 55TH FOOT,
_now_ THE BORDER REGIMENT.--Albuera, Arroyodos Molinos,
Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Orthes, Peninsula, China,
Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Lucknow.
1ST BATT. 35TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 107TH FOOT,
_now_ THE ROYAL SUSSEX REGIMENT.--Louisburg, Quebec, 1759,
Maida, Egypt, 1882, Nile, 1884-5, Abou Klea.
1ST BATT. 37TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 67TH FOOT,
_now_ THE HAMPSHIRE REGIMENT.--Blenheim, Ramillies,
Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Dettingen, Minden, Tournay, Barossa,
Peninsula, India, Taku Forts, Pekin, Charasiah, Kabul, 1879,
Afghanistan, 1878-80.
1ST BATT. 38TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 80TH FOOT,
_now_ THE SOUTH STAFFORDSHIRE REGIMENT.--Egypt, Monte Video,
Roleia, Vimiera, Corunna, Busaco, Badajoz, Salamanca,
Vittoria, St. Sebastian, Nive, Peninsula, Ava, Moodkee,
Ferozeshah, Sobraon, Pegu, Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol,
Lucknow, Central India, South Africa, 1878-9, Egypt, 1882,
Nile, 1884-5, Abou Klea.
1ST BATT. 39TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 54TH FOOT,
_now_ THE DORSETSHIRE REGIMENT.--Plassy, Gibraltar, Egypt,
Marabout, Albuera, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive,
Orthes, Peninsula, Ava, Maharajpore, Sevastopol.
1ST BATT. 40TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 82TH FOOT,
_now_ THE PRINCE OF WALES'S VOLUNTEERS (SOUTH LANCASHIRE
REGIMENT).--Louisburg, Egypt, Monte Video, Roleia, Vimiera,
Talavera, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle,
Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Niagara, Waterloo, Candahar,
Ghuznee, Kabul, 1842, Maharajpore, Sevastopol, Lucknow, New
Zealand.
1ST BATT. 41ST FOOT,
2ND BATT. 69TH FOOT,
_now_ THE WELSH REGIMENT.--Bourbon, Java, Detroit,
Queenstown, Miami, Niagara, Waterloo, India, Ava, Candahar,
Ghuznee, Kabul, 1842, Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol.
1ST BATT. 42ND, (BLACK WATCH),
2ND BATT. 73TH FOOT,
_now_ THE BLACK WATCH, ROYAL HIGHLANDERS.--Mangalore,
Seringapatam, Egypt, Corunna, Fuentes d'Onor, Pyrenees,
Nivelle, Nive, Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Waterloo, South
Africa, 1846-7, South Africa, 1851-2-3, Alma, Sevastopol,
Lucknow, Ashantee, Egypt, 1882-4, Tel-el-Kebir, NIle,
1884-5, Kirbekan.
1ST BATT. 43RD FOOT,
2ND BATT. 52ND FOOT,
_now_ THE OXFORDSHIRE LIGHT INFANTRY.--Quebec, 1759,
Hindostan, Vimiera, Corunna, Busaco, Fuentes d'Onor, Ciudad
Rodrio, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, Nivelle, Nive, Orthes,
Toulouse, Peninsula, Waterloo, South Africa 1851-2-3, Delhi,
New Zealand.
1ST BATT. 44TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 56TH FOOT,
_now_ THE ESSEX REGIMENT.--Moro, Gibraltar, Egypt, Badajoz,
Salamanca, Peninsula, Bladensburg, Waterloo, Ava, Alma,
Inkermann, Sevastopol, Taku Forts, Nile, 1884-5.
1ST BATT. 45TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 95TH FOOT,
_now_ THE SHERWOOD FORESTERS (DERBYSHIRE
REGIMENT).--Louisberg, Roleia, Vimiera, Talavera, Busaco,
Fuentes d'Onor, Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca,
Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula,
Ava, South Africa, 1846-7, Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol,
Central India, Abyssinia, Egypt, 1882.
1ST BATT. 47TH FOOT, 2ND BATT. 81ST FOOT, _now_ THE LOYAL
NORTH LANCASHIRE REGIMENT.--Louisburg, Quebec, 1759, Maida,
Corunna, Tarifa, Vittoria, St. Sebastian, Peninsula, Ava,
Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Ali Musjid, Afghanistan,
1878-79.
1ST BATT. 48TH, PRIMROSES,
2ND BATT. 58TH FOOT,
_now_ THE NORTHAMPTONSHIRE REGIMENT.--Louisburg, Quebec, 1759,
Gibraltar, Egypt, Maida, Douro, Talavera, Albuera, Badajoz,
Salamanca, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Orthes, Toulouse,
Peninsula, Sevastopol, New Zealand, South Africa, 1879.
1ST BATT. 49TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 66TH FOOT,
_now_ THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES'S (BERKSHIRE
REGIMENT).--Egmont-op-Zee, Copenhagen, Douro, Talavera,
Albuera, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Orthes,
Peninsula, Queenstown, China, Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol,
Candahar, 1880, Afghanistan, 1879-80, Egypt, 1882, Suakin,
Tofrek.
1ST BATT. 50TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 97TH, EARL OF ULSTER'S,
_now_ THE QUEEN'S OWN ROYAL WEST KENT REGIMENT.--Egypt,
Vimiera, Corunna, Almaraz, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nive, Orthes,
Peninsula, Punniar, Moodkee, Ferozeshah, Aliwal, Sobraon,
Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Lucknow, New Zealand, Egypt,
1882, Nile, 1884-5.
1ST BATT. 51ST FOOT,
2ND BATT. 105TH FOOT,
_now_ THE KING'S OWN LIGHT INFANTRY (SOUTH YORKSHIRE
REGIMENT).--Minden, Corunna, Fuentes d'Onor, Salamanca,
Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Orthes, Peninsula, Waterloo,
Pegu, Ali Musjid, Afghanistan, 1878-80.
1ST BATT. 53RD FOOT,
2ND BATT. 85TH FOOT,
_now_ THE KING'S SHROPSHIRE LIGHT INFANTRY.--Nieuport,
Tournay, St. Lucia, Talavera, Fuentes d'Onor, Salamanca,
Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Toulouse, Peninsula,
Bladensburg, Aliwal, Sobraon, Punjaub, Goojerat, Lucknow,
Afghanistan, 1879-80, Egypt, 1882, Suakin, 1884-5.
1ST BATT. 57TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 77TH FOOT,
_now_ THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE'S OWN (MIDDLESEX
REGIMENT).--Seringapatam, Albuera, Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz,
Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Peninsula, Alma,
Inkermann, Sevastopol, New Zealand, South Africa, 1879.
1ST, 2ND, 3RD, AND 4TH BATTS. 60th Rifles,
_now_ THE KING'S ROYAL RIFLE CORPS.--Louisburg, Quebec,
1759, Roleia, Vimiera, Martinique, Talavera, Busaco, Fuentes
d'Onor, Albuera, Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca,
Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Orthes, Toulouse,
Peninsula, Punjaub, Mooltan, Goojerat, South Africa,
1851-2-3, Delhi, Taku Forts, Pekin, South Africa, 1879,
Ahmad Kheb, Candahar, Afghanistan, 1878-80, Egypt, 1882-4,
Tel-el-Kebir.
1ST BATT. 62ND FOOT,
2ND BATT. 99TH FOOT,
_now_ THE DUKE OF ENDINBURGH'S (WILTSHIRE REGIMENT).--Nive,
Peninsula, Ferozeshah, Sobraon, Sevastopol, Pekin, New
Zealand, South Africa, 1879.
1ST BATT. 63RD, WEST SUFFOLK,
2ND BATT. 96TH FOOT,
_now_ THE MANCHESTER REGIMENT.--Egmont-op-Zee, Egypt,
Martinique, Guadaloupe, Peninsula, Alma, Inkermann,
Sevastopol, New Zealand, Afghanistan, 1879-80, Egypt, 1882.
1ST BATT. 64TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 98TH FOOT,
_now_ THE PRINCE OF WALES' NORTH STAFFORDSHIRE
REGIMENT.--St. Lucia, Surinam, China, Punjaub, Persia,
Reshire, Bushire, Koosh-ab, Lucknow.
1ST BATT. 65TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 84TH FOOT,
_now_ THE YORK AND LANCASTER REGIMENT.--India, Arabia, Nive,
Peninsula, Lucknow, New Zealand, Egypt, 1882-4,
Tel-el-Kebir.
1ST BATT. 68TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 106TH FOOT,
_now_ THE DURHAM LIGHT INFANTRY.--Salamanca, Vittoria,
Pyrenees, Nivelle, Orthes, Peninsula, Alma, Inkermann,
Sevastopol, Persia, Reshire, Bushire, Kooshab, New Zealand.
1ST BATT. 71ST FOOT,
2ND BATT. 74TH FOOT,
_now_ THE HIGHLAND LIGHT INFANTRY.--Hindostan, Assaye,
Seringapatam, Cape of Good Hope, 1806, Roleia, Vimiera,
Corunna, Busaco, Fuentes d'Onor, Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz,
Almaraz, Salamanca, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive,
Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Waterloo, South Africa,
1851-2-3, Sevastopol, Central India, Egypt, 1882,
Tel-el-Kebir.
1ST BATT. 72ND HIGHLANDERS,
2ND BATT. 78TH HIGHLANDERS,
_now_ SEAFORTH HIGHLANDERS (ROSS-SHIRE BUFFS, THE DUKE OF
ALBANY'S.)--Hindostan, Assaye, Cape of Good Hope, Maida,
Java, South Africa, 1835, Sevastopol, Persia, Kooshab,
Lucknow, Central India, Peinar, Kotal, Charasiah, Kabul,
1879, Candahar, 1880, Afghanistan, 1878-80, Egypt, 1882,
Tel-el-Kebir.
1ST BATT. 75TH FOOT,
2ND BATT. 92ND HIGHLANDERS,
_now_ THE GORDON HIGHLANDERS.--Seringapatam, India,
Egmont-op-Zee, Mandora, Egypt, Corunna, Fuentes d'Onor,
Almaraz, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nive, Orthes, Peninsula,
Waterloo, South Africa, 1835, Delhi, Lucknow, Charasiah,
Kabul, 1879, Candahar, 1880, Afghanistan, 1878-80, Egypt,
1882-84, Tel-el-Kebir, Nile, 1884-5.
1ST BATT. 79TH FOOT, or CAMERON HIGHLANDERS,
_now_ THE QUEEN'S OWN CAMERON HIGHLANDERS.--Egmont-op-Zee,
Egypt, Fuentes d'Onor, Salamanca, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive,
Toulouse, Peninsula, Waterloo, Alma, Sevastopol, Lucknow,
Egypt, 1882, Tel-el-Kebir, Nile, 1884-5.
1ST BATT. 83RD FOOT,
2ND BATT. 86TH FOOT,
_now_ THE ROYAL IRISH RIFLES.--India, Egypt, 1801, Cape of
Good Hope, 1806, Bourbon, Talavera, Busaco, Fuentes d'Onor,
Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, Nivelle,
Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Central India.
1ST BATT. 87TH, ROYAL IRISH FUSILIERS,
2ND BATT. 89TH FOOT,
_now_ PRINCESS VICTORIA'S ROYAL IRISH FUSILIERS.--Egypt,
Monte Video, Talavera, Barrossa, Tarifa, Java, Vittoria,
Nivelle, Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Niagara, Ava,
Sevastopol, Egypt, 1882-4, Tel-el-Kebir.
1ST BATT. 88TH, CONNAUGHT RANGERS,
2ND BATT. 94TH FOOT,
_now_ THE CONNAUGHT RANGERS.--Seringapatam, Egypt, 1801,
Talavera, Busaco, Fuentes d'Onor, Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz,
Salamanca, Vittoria, Nivelle, Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula,
Alma, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Central India, South Africa,
1877-8-9.
1ST BATT. 91ST HIGHLANDERS,
2ND BATT. 93RD, SUTHERLAND HIGHLANDERS,
_now_ PRINCESS LOUISE'S ARGYLE AND SUTHERLAND
HIGHLANDERS.--Cape of Good Hope, 1806, Roleia, Vimiera,
Corunna, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Orthes, Toulouse,
Peninsula, South Africa, 1846-7, South Africa, 1851-2-3,
Alma, Balaklava, Sevastopol, Lucknow, South Africa, 1879.
1ST BATT. 100TH, ROYAL CANADIANS,
2ND BATT. 109TH FOOT,
_now_ THE PRINCE OF WALES'S LEINSTER REGIMENT.--Niagara,
Central India.
1ST BATT. 101ST, BENGAL FUSILIERS,
2ND BATT. 104TH FOOT,
_now_ THE ROYAL MUNSTER FUSILIERS.--Plassy, Buxar, Guzeret,
Deig, Bhurtpore, Afghanistan, Ghuznee, Ferozeshah, Sobraon,
Punjaub, Chillinwallah, Goojerat, Pegu, Delhi, Lucknow.
1ST BATT. 102ND BOMBAY FUSILIERS,
2ND BATT. 103RD MADRAS FUSILIERS,
_now_ THE ROYAL DUBLIN FUSILIERS.--Arcot, Plassy, Condore,
Wyndewash, Buxar, Sholingur, Nundy, Droog, Amboyna, Ternate,
Banda, Pondicherry, Mahidpore, Carnatic, Mysore, Goojerat,
Seringapatam, Kirkee, Beni Boo, Ally, Aden, Punjaub,
Mooltan, Googerat, Ava, Pegu, Lucknow.
1ST, 2ND, 3RD, AND 4TH BATT. RIFLE BRIGADE, _now_ THE RIFLE
BRIGADE (THE PRINCE CONSORT'S OWN).--Copenhagen, Monte
Video, Roleia, Vimiera, Corunna, Busaco, Barrossa, Fuentes
d'Onor, Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria,
Nivelle, Nive, Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Waterloo, South
Africa, 1846-7, South Africa, 1851-2-3, Alma, Inkermann,
Sevastopol, Lucknow, Ashantee, Ali Musjid, Afghanistan,
1878-9.
1ST WEST INDIA REGIMENT.--Dominica, Martinique, Guadaloupe,
Ashantee.
2ND WEST INDIA REGIMENT.--Ashantee.
The following shows about the average number of troops kept in India,
Gibraltar, Malta, and Ireland:--
Regiments of Batteries of Companies of Battalions of
Cavalry. Artillery. Engineers. Infantry.
India 9 77 3 50
Gibraltar 0 7 4 4
Malta 0 7 2 4
Ireland 6 17 4 27
Index of Linked Battalions, to enable the reader to find out regiments
that are struck off the Army List:--
Territorial. Regiments.
1st--The Lothian Regiment.
2nd--The Royal West Surrey Regiment.
3rd--The East Kent Regiment.
4th--The Royal Lancaster Regiment.
5th--The Northumberland Fusiliers.
6th--The Royal Warwickshire Regiment.
7th--The Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regiment).
8th--The Liverpool Regiment.
9th--The Norfolk Regiment.
10th--The Lincolnshire Regiment.
11th--The Devonshire Regiment.
12th--The Suffolk Regiment.
13th--The Somersetshire Light Infantry.
14th--The West Yorkshire Regiment.
15th--The East Yorkshire Regiment.
16th--The Bedfordshire Regiment.
17th--The Leicestershire Regiment.
18th--The Royal Irish Regiment.
19th--The Yorkshire Regiment.
20th--The Lancashire Fusiliers.
21st--The Royal Scots Fusiliers.
22nd--The Cheshire Regiment.
23rd--The Royal Welsh Fusiliers.
24th--The South Wales Borderers.
25th--The King's Own Borderers. 1st Batt. 2nd Batt.
26th--The Cameronian Scottish Rifles 26th 90th
27th--The Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers 27th 108th
28th--The Gloucestershire Regiment 28th 61st
29th--The Worcestershire Regiment 29th 36th
30th--The East Lancashire Regiment 30th 59th
31st--The East Surrey Regiment 31st 70th
32nd--The Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry 32nd 46th
33rd--The West Riding Regiment 33rd 76th
34th--The Border Regiment 34th 55th
35th--The Royal Sussex Regiment 35th 107th
37th--The Hampshire Regiment 37th 67th
38th--The South Staffordshire Regiment 38th 80th
39th--The Dorsetshire Regiment 39th 54th
40th--The South Lancashire Regiment 40th 82nd
41st--The Welsh Regiment 41st 69th
42nd--The Royal Highlanders 42nd 73rd
43rd--The Oxfordshire Light Infantry 43rd 52nd
44th--The Essex Regiment 44th 56th
45th--The Derbyshire Regiment 45th 95th
47th--The Loyal North Lancashire Regiment 47th 81st
48th--The Northamptonshire Regiment 48th 58th
49th--The Berkshire Regiment 49th 66th
50th--The Royal West Kent Regiment 50th 97th
51st--The South Yorkshire Regiment 51st 105th
53rd--The Shropshire Regiment 53rd 85th
57th--The Middlesex Regiment 57th 77th
60th--The King's Royal Rifle Corps, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th batts.
62nd--The Wiltshire Regiment 62nd 99th
63rd--The Manchester Regiment 63rd 96th
64th--The North Staffordshire Regiment 64th 98th
65th--The York and Lancaster Regiment 65th 84th
68th--The Durham Regiment 68th 106th
71st--The Highland Light Infantry 71st 74th
72nd--The Ross-shire Buffs 72nd 78th
75th--The Gordon Highlanders 75th 92nd
79th--The Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders 1st batt.
83rd--The Royal Irish Rifles 83rd 86th
87th--The Royal Irish Fusiliers 87th 89th
88th--The Connaught Rangers 88th 94th
91st--The Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders 91st 93rd
100th--The Royal Canadians 100th 109th
101st--The Royal Munster Fusiliers 101st 104th
102nd--The Royal Dublin Fusiliers 102nd 103rd
The Rifle Brigade, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th battalions.
Household Cavalry, number of regiments 3
Heavy Dragoons, 〃 10
Lancers, Light 〃 5
Hussars, Light 〃 13
Royal Horse Artillery, number of batteries 26
Royal Artillery 〃 80
Garrison Artillery 〃 96
Royal Engineers, number of companies 52
Foot Guards, number of battalions 7
Regiments of the Line, 〃 129
Regiments of Rifles, 〃 12
Royal Marines, number of companies 40
Commissariat and Transport Corps, companies 20
Medical Staff Corps, divisions 16
Ordnance Department, companies 4
Yeomanry Cavalry in Great Britain, regiments 39
Militia Artillery, number of batteries 196
Militia Regiments, number of infantry 143
Militia Engineers, number of companies 3
Artillery Volunteers, number of battalions 62
Engineer Volunteers, number of companies 22
Light Horse Volunteers, number of regiments 15
Volunteer battalions of Infantry 206
Mounted Rifle Volunteer regiments 16
West India Regiments of Infantry 2
Royal Malta Fencibles, Artillery batteries 6
Channel Islands Militia, battalions of Infantry 6
Channel Islands Militia Artillery, number of batteries 15
In Memoriam--Charles George Gordon.
(Jan. 26, 1885.)
C hrist's noble Warrior thou! Single thine aim
H appy thou wast when the last summons came.
A re there no friends around thee? None to aid?
R ound thee to rally? None! Thou art betrayed!
L one dost thou stand amid the savage horde.
E choes the faithful promise of the Lord:
S aved shall he be who to the end endured.
G entle thy presence; great thy power to lead.
E ach nation sought thy help, thy word obeyed.
O pen thy heart and hearth to all Christ's poor,
R oyal thy gifts, and boundless was thy store.
G allant Commander thou, as Knight of old!
E ver true-hearted, simple, fearless, bold.
G reatness and goodness thine, Faith, Hope, and Love,
O n sword thy hand, thy brave heart fixed above:
R eady to dare and die at Duty's call.
D oubts hadst thou none, but trust invincible.
O nce was a Noble Life for faithless friends laid down;
N ow hast thou followed Him, and won thy crown.
TWO DAYS TOO LATE!
[After the battle near Metemneh, Sir Charles Wilson pushed
on to Khartoum in one of the steamers which General Gordon
had sent down the Nile to meet our troops. But two days
before his arrival--so it is said--Khartoum had been
betrayed into the hands of the rebels, and its heroic
defender had been slain.]
Two days too late! Through trackless wastes of sand
Our gallant sons in vain have fought their way!
In vain has brain conceived, has genius planned:
Hope has but smiled, the better to betray.
With victory almost ours, the hero's hand
Outstretched in welcome, every heart elate,
Khartoum has fallen, and the traitors stand
With mocking faces as we reach the gate
_Two days too late!_
Two days too late! Two days too late to save
The grand heroic soul who dared so long;
Who for nine weary months withstood the wave
Of countless thousands, chanting their deathsong!
His foes _without_, the bravest of the brave--
Famine and treachery _within_ the gate!
And we but come to find a new-made grave:
The help arrives--alas! two days too late!
_Two days too late!_
Too late! too late! England is dumb to-day--
Too new her grief for words, too deep her love!
The giant heart and soul have passed away,
And we but strive in faith to look above
And pray as he so often loved to pray:
"Father, Thy will be done, Thy purpose great!"
Till knowing of his peace, we've strength to say
"In God's good time, and _not_ two days too late!"
No, _not_ too late!
MEDALS.
"Ambition sigh'd: she found it vain to trust
The faithless column and the crumbling bust;
Huge moles, whose shadow stretch'd from shore to shore,
Their ruins perish'd, and their place no more;
Convinced, she now contracts the vast design,--
And all her triumphs sink into a coin.
A narrow orb each crowded conquest keeps;
Beneath her palm here sad Judæa weeps;
Now scantier limits the proud arch confine,
And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine;
A small Euphrates through the piece is roll'd,
And little eagles wave their wings in gold."--_Pope._
CHAPTER XV.
CONCLUDING CHAPTER.
THE COST OF WAR.
For the information of such of my readers as have neither the time nor
the opportunity of diving into history, I will now give a historic
outline of the enormous cost of war in blood and treasure, principally
in the campaigns of 1812-13-14 and 1815. Europe, disunited, had been
conquered by Napoleon; the only Power setting him at utter defiance
being this glorious old isle. Our forefathers had repeatedly assisted
the continental nations with enormous sums of money, and arms to combat
this tyrant; but lacking unity, and having to confront a master-mind in
generalship, at least fifty years before his time, this all-conquering
General rolled them all up in detail. In fact the whole of continental
Europe was fascinated with a craven-hearted dread of the conqueror's
supposed irresistible power. His very name was worse than a nightmare to
thousands. His terrible legions, his invincible legions, the famed and
dreaded legions, were the whole talk of Europe. And I am sorry to record
it, that there were _then_, as _now_, thousands of foolish
chicken-hearted men, calling themselves Britons, that predicted our
entire destruction as a nation. The redoubted Massena boasted that he
would drive all the English leopards into the sea, or cut them to
pieces. He commanded an army of veterans, who had marched from victory
to victory, from triumph to triumph. But this redoubtable Marshal of
France, "the spoilt child of fortune," received a very awkward lesson
from the detested Albions and the boys of the Green Isle, for no
regiment on grim Busaco's iron ridge distinguished themselves so much as
the 88th Connaught Rangers. They hurled the boasting legions of Napoleon
over the rocks in grand style, well thrashed the invincibility out of
the conquerors of Austerlitz, Jena, and Wagram, and largely helped to
nail victory to that flag which was, and is now, second to none, and
made some of the croaking know-all gents hide their heads. The spell of
French invincibility was rudely dissipated, and the designs of the
tyrant as regards Spain and Portugal were baffled. We say now, shame on
all those that would try to traduce the reputation of those that
struggle upon field after field for life or death, for national
independence, national honour and happiness. Old England knows nothing
of the horrors and miseries of war, the massacres and violations of
mothers, wives, and daughters. No! her domestic happiness, human loves,
and human friendships are never interrupted or broken; and on each
revolving Sabbath, her church bells invite all, rich and poor, to the
house of prayer and thanksgiving. Our victorious General, Wellington,
repeatedly set the continental nations an example how to thrash
Napoleon's much puffed-up invincibles. "Stick to them, my men!" was
often the cry. It was often death, but always victory for us. Austria
and Russia were beaten on the one field of Austerlitz. Prussia threw
down the gauntlet on the field of Jena, but was completely crushed,
nearly all her fortresses being taken from her. She was humbled in the
dust, and an indemnity of six hundred and forty million francs (a
butcher's bill of twenty-five million pounds sterling) demanded by the
conqueror. This was enforced with merciless fury by the French, in
addition to which an enormous host were quartered upon the conquered
provinces, which shall be hereafter enumerated. Prussia was held by an
iron grasp: close upon one hundred thousand of her noble sons having
perished, and she lay prostrate at the conqueror's feet. But still she
fought out a death-struggle with the great conqueror, and on the bloody
field of Eylan the conquering hero was brought to a stand. He could not
advance, and would not retire; he was brought to the verge of
destruction. This terrible battle, my young readers must know, was
fought in the depth of winter, amidst ice and snow, and under unexampled
horrors. The loss on both sides was immense. The Russians and Prussians
lost twenty-five thousand, and the French thirty thousand; thus
fifty-five thousand men, with thousands of horses, were weltering in
blood in the midst of ice and snow, in a space of two leagues, both
sides claiming the victory. Yet another terrible battle was fought at
Friedland, in the depth of a Russian winter. The allies here were
defeated. They lost seventeen thousand men and five thousand prisoners,
with twenty guns. Napoleon was weakened by the loss of ten thousand. The
two great Emperors met on a raft on the Niemen, and there made peace,
dividing the known world between them. Almost the first words from the
Emperor of Russia to the great conqueror were:[39] "I hate the English
as much as you do, and am ready to second you in all your enterprises
against them." Napoleon's answer was: "Peace is already made." With
Napoleon's talents, he talked the Emperor into anything he liked. Now
comes the great Northern Confederation. The whole of the North of
Europe were compelled to declare war against Old England. All their
ports were closed against us. Spain and Portugal threw in their lot
against us. Thus we had the whole of Europe to combat. But our
forefathers came out as true Britons. With our unconquerable fleet, and
Nelson as our leader, we put the world in arms at defiance. The
Confederation had a short life. We blockaded every port in Europe. The
whole Danish fleet was taken or sunk at Copenhagen by that heroic
Nelson. Proceeding at once to Cronstadt with his victorious fleet, he
demanded a conference with the Russian Emperor. It was granted. The
ever-victorious Admiral explained our demands. One of the Emperor's
advisers said at once to the Emperor; "Rather than submit to such
humiliating terms, we had better have war to the knife." The gauntlet
was thrown down at the feet of him that shook the world with renown.
Nelson's reply was, "With all my heart. You shall have war to your
heart's content in less than one hour" (pointing to his victorious
fleet). "Stay," said the Emperor. They talked it over, and peace with us
was signed, which meant war with France. Our victorious Nelson was one
too many for the crafty Russians. In writing home, he said to our
Minister at War: "I flatter myself that a British Admiral, with a good
fleet at his back (he had nearly thirty sail) is the best man you could
select to send to negotiate. Some of the Czar's advisers did not like
the terms. I at once gave the Emperor to understand that he could have
peace on one hand, or war on the other (pointing to my fleet just
outside the harbour). I found I had hit the nail fairly on the head, and
at once made peace with the Emperor of all the Russias, and war with
Napoleon. He has promised to declare, should that tyrant interfere with
him." Shortly after this, the terrible battle of Trafalgar was fought,
which swept the French and Spanish flags from the sea. It was here that
Nelson met a glorious death;[40] but this victory proclaimed the
commercial death-blow of Napoleon. We say again, it was off the shoals
of Trafalgar where the funeral pile of Napoleon's greatness was
witnessed. It frustrated all his deep laid schemes of subjugating us as
a nation, and proclaimed that--
"Britain ruled the waves."
Our forefathers could now laugh at Napoleon's threats of invasion. The
combined fleets of France and Spain were completely annihilated, and
before he could attempt to reach our shores, a new fleet and a fresh set
of seamen must be forthcoming. But our darling hero had purchased this
last triumph with his blood. His name, however, still lives fresh in
every true Briton's heart, and his last signal will be handed down to
our children's children: "England expects that every man this day will
do his duty." Such language has frequently inspired our men amidst the
storm of shot and shell, and England has often since had to acknowledge
that her sons _have_ done their duty. Europe struggled on under the iron
grasp of Napoleon. Spain and Portugal declared war against the tyrant.
Oceans of blood were spilt; millions of money that could have been put
to good use were lavished upon war material. Russia, Austria, and
Prussia again tried to stem the torrent of Napoleon's conquest; but
there was no unity in their camps, and the great conqueror beat them
all in detail, up to this. The only time his victorious legions were
beaten in the open field was when opposed by our thin red line.
Napoleon's much puffed-up invincibles were beaten, _and had to retire
from every field on which our conquering general, Wellington, planted
his standard_. We never once met the enemy in a pitched battle, either
by land or sea, but to beat them. The sons of Albion, side by side with
the undaunted sons of the Emerald Isle, set an example to Europe. Before
the Moscow campaign took place, the flower of the French army were
opposed to us in the Peninsula, on the fields of Corunna, Albuera,
Barrosa, Busaco, Douro, Fuentes de Oñoro, Roliça, Talavera, and Vimiera;
and from 1812 to the end of the war, we met and rolled them up on all
the following fields, or stormed their strongholds and took every one
from them: Badajoz, Ciudad Rodrigo, Nive, Nivelle, Orthes, Pyrenees, San
Sebastian, Salamanca, Toulouse, Vittoria, and Waterloo. Hundreds of
thousands of men perished on the above fields. The poor inhabitants were
butchered without mercy in cold blood, because they tried to do all they
could to help their countrymen in arms. It was a war of extermination
for freedom. This war cost us close upon two hundred millions sterling.
The Spaniards and Portuguese were all in our pay. But we now approach
Napoleon's great campaign in Russia in 1812. He had, for a long time,
been making preparations for it. Russia had set him at defiance,
refusing to close her ports against our merchandise. Vast armies, with
all kinds of warlike stores, were passing through Germany on to the
Russian frontier during the early part of 1812. The great conqueror set
out to join, as he thought, his invincible hosts. At Dresden, June 1812,
he reached the climax of his earthly fame. He was the centre of
attraction; four kings, innumerable princes and dukes, waited upon him:
queens were maids of honour to Maria Louisa. But in a few short months
this much-exalted hero had to confess that "from the sublime to the
ridiculous was but a step."
The humiliation of Prussia, the conquest of Austria, the dreadful
spectacles that thousands who now surrounded Napoleon's standard had
witnessed on the bloody fields of Jena, Austerlitz, Wagram, Eylan,
Friedland, with pyramids of friends and foes, bodies all around; with
weeping mothers and smiling infants at their breasts, searching amidst
the piles of dead for their loved ones. All were for a time forgotten.
The conquerors were now to be seen side by side with the vanquished in
the above disastrous fields which had struck Germany down. This
all-conquering hero was now the king of kings, elevated to the highest
pinnacle of fame, surrounded by his Old Guards and the terrible
cuirassiers with Prince Murat at their head, who had frequently ridden
over Russians, Austrians, Prussians, Spaniards and Portuguese. No power
on earth seemed capable of stopping them. As often as their beloved
Emperor appeared, the shouts of enthusiasm, with the cry of _Vive
l'Empereur_,[41] rent the air, as they struck their sabres, confident of
victory. He was now exalted to the skies, but (so much for human
mutability) he proved that, from the exalted pinnacle of fame to the
ridiculous was but a step. He invaded Russia without any provocation but
ambition, in all the majesty of war, with the strongest and best
equipped army that the world had then seen. It consisted of--
Infantry 491,953 Horses 187,111
Cavalry 96,579
Artillery 58,626 Number of guns 1,372
-------
Total of invading army, 647,158
They had some desperate combats on various fields. The Russian army
retired, fighting with desperation, when pressed too closely by
Napoleon's host. But 30,000 of the enemy perished, for want of food,
before a shot, so to speak, was fired. The only great battle fought on
the advance to Moscow was at Borodino, 7th September, 1812: and out of
all Napoleon's vast host, all he could bring into action, after waiting
for days to collect stragglers, was 103,000 infantry, 36,000 cavalry,
and 593 guns. The terrible battle raged from morning until night; the
Russians were not beaten, but almost annihilated. Both sides fought with
desperation; the one to save their hearths and homes, the other well
knowing they had nothing to fall back upon. This field presented a
terrible spectacle: huge masses of men having fought hand-to-hand all
day. "Here," said Napoleon, "is the field where the brave shall find a
glorious death: the coward will perish in the deserts of Siberia." The
Russians lost 38 generals and 45,000 officers and men; prisoners and
guns taken were about equal: the Russians lost 10 and took 13 guns. The
victors (for the French justly claimed the victory, as the Russians
retired during the night) lost 32 generals and 52,000 officers and men.
All that was left to the boasting enemy was the bloody field, for the
dead and dying lay in ghastly piles, friend and foe mixed together. The
victors were in a worse plight than the vanquished; they had to lie down
supperless on the field of gore, and get up breakfastless. The Russians
had plenty to eat, and retired next day to Moscow. The enemy followed
them up, and entered Moscow in triumph, amidst martial music and
ringing shouts of _Vive l'Empereur_. A strange scene presented itself;
not a living soul to meet the great conqueror. He was entering into a
deserted city. All the inhabitants had fled. Moscow, with all its
palaces and stately mansions, was abandoned to the foe. But it was soon
enveloped in flames. Napoleon had expected that, as their capital was in
his hands, he would have been able to dictate to the Emperor Alexander
his own terms of peace. But no! he had fought his way for a thousand
miles from the Niemen: he had beaten the Russian army: he had taken
their capital, which was all in flames around him. But he could not
subdue a brave nation, who had sworn to die to a man or conquer the
great tyrant. The Spaniards and Portuguese, backed up by old England,
had set Europe an example how to combat for their liberty. The noble
heroism displayed in the defence of Saragossa had set Europe in a blaze.
The orders of Alexander to his generals were, not to attempt to
negotiate, but to fight to the death. The great conqueror was compelled
to eat a large slice of humble pie, "and order a retreat" from the midst
of a people he could not subdue.
It is a point of the highest importance, involving, as it does, a
decisive refutation of the assertion so often repeated and handed down
to our children, "that it was the _cold_ in Russia which destroyed
Napoleon's grand army," which crossed the Niemen, June, 1812. Out of
this vast host under Napoleon's immediate command, before a single flake
of snow fell, 247,000 men and 92,000 horses had perished by the ravages
of war and starvation. Other corps, under command of different marshals,
suffered in proportion. As the army advanced, it got worse and worse.
The great multitude of mouths destroyed Napoleon. Reinforcements kept
joining the great conqueror at Moscow; and when the retreat commenced,
he had more than replaced what he had lost at Borodino. They turned
their faces towards the sunny south, laden with the spoil of Moscow.
Napoleon thought of retiring by another road. But no, no. The Russians,
now augmented to about 150,000 men, with nearly 50,000 cavalry, took up
a strong position at Malo-Jaeoslowitz, and beat the conqueror. This
field presented a horrible spectacle. The town was built of wood; and
for hours desperate hand-to-hand fighting took place in its narrow
streets, which, became completely choked with dead and dying, friend and
foe. The houses on both sides the streets were enwrapt in flames. The
guns (French) were ordered forward. They dashed on at a gallop, crushing
over the heaps of both friend and foe, as they lay weltering in blood
and flames. The Russians had not died for nothing. They, as brave men,
died to save the honour of their homes, their wives, their mothers, and
their daughters. They beat the tyrant, and compelled him to retire by a
route that was already exhausted. The consequences of this bloody
engagement were most disastrous to the French. There was no alternative
for it now. It was most humiliating. He who had set Europe at defiance,
must now retire by the wasted road _via_ Smolensk. Guns and prisoners
were captured every day. The Russian army hung upon their flanks and
rear. To go into all the fights that took place during that terrible
retreat would fill a large volume. The dreadful passage of the river
Beresina, on the retreat, completed the ruin of the grand army. The
Russian Commander-in-Chief, Kutusoff, shrank from the responsibility of
facing the hero of so many fields. He had felt the weight of one hundred
and fifty thousand men on the bloody field of Borodino. He did not know
that it was but the wreck of the once grand army that was before him.
Had he but posted his victorious army on the heights on the banks of
that noble stream, Napoleon, with the remainder of his dejected,
half-famished army, must have been all slain, drowned, or taken
prisoners. Had Wellington been there, with such an army as the Russian
chief commanded, the subsequent slaughter in the campaigns of 1813-14
and 1815 would have been avoided. Napoleon would most likely have met a
soldier's death. It was well ordained by an all-wise God. The nation
that had defied the laws of God and man would not have been humbled, as
they were subsequently, after the carnage of Leipsic and the rout at
Waterloo. But the sight of his old Guards was enough; they had decided
every field for the last twenty years where Napoleon commanded. The
passage of the river was disputed by Kutusoff's lieutenants (by his
permission). The bloody struggle at the temporary bridges is almost
beyond description. The Russian guns, planted on the heights, played
with terrible effect upon the mass of the terror-stricken, confused
multitude. In the midst of the confusion, one of the bridges broke, and
all upon it miserably perished in the masses of floating ice. The
frantic crowd (for discipline was all gone) at once rushed to the
remaining bridge. The artillery and cavalry cut their way through their
comrades, plunging, like the car of Juggernaut, through dead and dying.
Thousands were mobbed into the river--now a raging torrent of floating
ice. Heaven and earth seemed combined to destroy a nation of infidels;
for the rain came down in torrents, converting a gentle stream into a
raging torrent. In the midst of this dreadful scene, with the Russian
guns firing as fast as possible upon the remaining bridge, it caught
fire. Despair and misery now rendered the enemy desperate. Numbers
rushed on to the burning bridge; it broke, and all were lost.
The scene now became awful. All retreat cut off, thousands must now die
or surrender. The magnitude of the disaster to the French was manifest
in the spring. Twelve thousand dead bodies were found washed up on the
banks of the river, fourteen thousand more were killed, and sixteen
thousand taken prisoners. Nearly all their artillery were lost. In the
midst of this terrible scene, mothers were seen lifting their infants
above their heads in the water, holding them up until they were
exhausted, then sinking beneath the waves. An infant found near the gate
of Smolensko, abandoned by its wretched mother, was adopted by the Old
Guard. Carried between them, it was saved in the midst of the horrors of
the Beresina. It was again seen on the bridge of Kowno, and finally
escaped all the horrors of the retreat, and eventually met a soldier's
death, as colonel commanding the Zouaves, at the storming of the
Malakoff. A number of men became mad from the frightful accumulation of
disasters all around them; others were reduced to a state of idiocy.
Their eyes were fixed; with a haggard look they marched on, not knowing
what they were doing. Commands, outrageous blows--nothing could rouse
them; and at night they would sink to the ground, and perish for want of
food. Others would carelessly sit down upon the dead bodies of their
comrades, and resign themselves to rest, to sleep, and death. Others
marched on resolutely; but at length their limbs tottered, their steps
became shorter, they fell behind their more robust comrades (tears often
running down their cheeks); their knees smote each other, they staggered
like drunken men, then fell to rise no more, completely exhausted for
want of food. Others marched on, taking no notice. All at once symptoms
of paralysis appeared, their knees shook, their arms fell from their
hands, and they sank down by the wayside, with a fixed look, watching
the crowd until they sank from exhaustion and died--cursing him who had
been the cause of all their misery. When remonstrated with about his
foolhardy march to Moscow to humble Alexander, by some of the heads of
his army, and the head of the Roman Church, his answer was: "Do you
think that the arms will drop from my soldiers' hands?" They did,
however, drop by thousands. One of his faithful Old Guard, looking death
in the face, said to a comrade: "Your assistance is in vain, my
friend;" then faintly murmured: "He has ruined us all. The only favour I
ask is, to carry to my children these decorations (see that the enemies
do not pollute them). I won them on the fields of Jena, Austerlitz,
Eylan, Friedland, and Spain." He then sank back and expired, for lack of
the common necessaries of life. Others, their fingers and toes dropped
off, from the extreme frost. Their arms fell to the ground, but they
still staggered on until night. In every bivouac, hundreds of corpses
were found sitting around what had been their watch-fires, stiff dead;
to all appearance looking at each other--their eyes fixed. Others, that
could not get near the fire, were found sitting back to back. They had
devoured the last morsel of horse-flesh, their strength failed them, and
they sank and died from starvation. Such a picture is only too true.
These are what some madmen call the glories of war.
Shortly after the dreadful scene at the Beresina, Napoleon left his once
grand army, now nothing but a confused rabble of all arms and followers
mixed up. His superb cavalry were nearly all dismounted. Of guns they
had but few. Murat, who now commanded, had nothing but horse-flesh to
feed his starving followers with, and but little of that. The Cossacks
of the Don were hovering all around them, hacking at all stragglers. No
mercy was shown by these infuriated savages. Napoleon was now travelling
through Poland, almost at lightning speed, on two rough sledges,
accompanied with but three followers. He dashed through Germany,
changing horses every twenty miles. The monster was not yet satisfied.
He had not been the cause of enough misery. He carried the dreadful news
to Paris of the destruction of his once Grand Army. He made (or tried to
make) the Government believe that his army had conquered Russia, that it
was still unconquerable, and that they were still superb. He
acknowledged that nearly all his cavalry and artillery were destroyed by
the extreme cold. He demanded 500,000 more men. "I will then," he said,
"give Alexander a few battles on the plains of Germany, and all will be
restored. I have to thank England for all the misery which has overtaken
us; but I will lay London in ashes yet." He had yet to learn that London
was to him sacred ground; that its people openly acknowledged daily the
saving power of the great Architect of the Universe. He permitted the
tyrant to go thus far, and no further; to show us and our children's
children, in days to come, the finger of His love: "I will be your God,
and ye shall be my people. Fear not." To go into all the desperate
fights which took place after Napoleon's departure, I could not. Murat
kept picking up strong detachments of all arms that had been left to
keep the communication open.
The invincibility was all thrashed out of Murat's dejected, half-frozen,
half-starved, half-clad followers. The heroic Marshal Ney (an Irishman)
still commanded the rear guard. Four times it melted away, and as often
this exemplary soldier re-formed another. At the gate of Wilna this
unconquerable soldier, a prince and a Marshal of France, fought as a
grenadier (which he was) with a musket. When called upon to surrender he
exclaimed, "A Marshal of France may die, but never surrender."[42] Such
was the heroic Ney. History has not preserved a nobler instance of
humanity than that displayed by the Emperor Alexander and his brother
Constantine, at Wilna. The condition of the wounded and prisoners, till
the arrival of Alexander, was horrible beyond conception. Huddled
together in hospitals without fire, water, medicine, beds, or even
straw, there they lay in hundreds, with their limbs shattered, or in the
last stage of disease. Hundreds died every day, their bodies thrown out
of the windows by those in attendance; but their places were
immediately filled up by multitudes of others, who crawled or were
carried into these abodes of wretchedness to draw their last breath,
cursing him who had been the cause of all their misery. Hard biscuit,
and but little of that, was all they had for food; their only drink was
snow, carried to them by their comrades. The putrid smell of above six
thousand bodies, which lay unburied, was unbearable. Into these hidden
dens of living, tombs, the Emperor Alexander and his brother immediately
on arrival entered. Steps were at once taken to stop these horrors; the
dead putrefied bodies were at once collected, and burned or buried. They
amounted to the astounding number of seventeen thousand, lying dead
about the streets and hospitals. The total number that succumbed at
Wilna was upwards of thirty thousand in a few weeks. This was the
termination of a campaign of unexampled dangers and glory to the Russian
arms, by deeds of unprecedented Christian mercy to a fallen foe. The
wreck of the once grand army re-crossed the Niemen, and left the Russian
territory, on the 13th December, 1812--about 20,000 of rag-tail,
bob-tail, miserable wretches. It must have been humiliating to the
remains of the Old Guard (about 800 strong) to be pursued by a
detachment of Cossacks. But my readers must know that five-sixths of
this motley army had never seen Moscow, or been within hundreds of miles
of it. The last stand was made at the bridge of Kowno, by the
rear-guard, under the intrepid Ney. He fired the last shot that drove
his pursuers back; threw all spare arms into the Niemen, and retired
with honour, covered with blood and mud, and black with powder; his
clothing all in tatters, and his good sword still reeking with the blood
of a Cossack. In that state, the hero presented himself to General
Dumas, who was lying wounded a few miles from the frontier. "Who are
you?" said the General, as he entered into the sick chamber. "I am the
rear-guard of the grand army. I have fired the last musket shot on the
bridge of Kowno, and have thrown into the river the last of our arms. I
am Marshal Ney."[43] When the truth came out, the grand army was
accounted for as follows:--Killed in action, 130,000, including
officers; taken prisoners, 48 generals, 5,000 officers, and 190,000 men.
Nearly all the wounded were either taken or died; 132,000 officers and
men died of fatigue and starvation; yet to add 110,000 Poles, killed or
died of starvation and cold; 35,000 Austrians, and 18,000
Prussians--wings of the host--never were near Moscow, and not much
engaged, retired to their own country. This nearly brings up the grand
total, about 20,000 of the wreck being added. The Russian loss was as
heavy, if not heavier, than that of the enemy. The noble lines of
Johnson, on Charles XII., seem a poetic prophecy of the far greater
catastrophe on Napoleon. By a few alterations they become descriptive of
his fate:--
No joys to him pacific sceptres yield;
War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field;
Behold! surrounding kings their powers combine,
And some capitulate, and some resign.
Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain;
"Think nothing gained," he cries, "till nought remain
On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly,
And all be mine beneath the Polar sky."
The march begins in military state,
And nations on his eye suspended wait;
Stern famine guards the solitary coast,
And winter barricades the realms of frost.
He comes--not want and cold his course delay;
Hide, blushing glory, hide the Moskwa's day;
The vanquished hero leaves his broken bands,
And shows his miseries in distant lands;
Condemned a needy suppliant to wait,
While ladies interpose and slaves debate.
His fall was destined to a barren strand,
A petty fortress and a sea-girt land;
He left a name, at which the world grew pale
To point a moral, and adorn a tale.
Madame de Staël has well said that Providence never appeared so near
human affairs as in this memorable year 1812. There was, as far as human
eye could see, a special outpouring of Divine wrath. We see in Napoleon
the greatness and weakness of puny man, his highest glory, and yet
nothingness against the arm of the Great Geometrician of the universe.
The purest treasure mortal times afford
Is spotless reputation; that away,
Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.--SHAKESPEARE.
It was in order to crush us as a nation that precipitated Napoleon and
his host into the famine guarded wilds of Russia. Thousands, yea,
hundreds of thousands of the working classes in this God-defended isle,
will hardly be able to fathom the terrible calamities of the horrors of
war in the retreat from Moscow, the only difference being most of the
Russian sick and wounded returned to their colours, as they were nursed
in the bosom of their friends. But even this terrible blow was not
enough to subdue the great conqueror. Russia had been kept in the field
by our inexhaustible funds. Arms, with all kinds of warlike stores, were
shipped off to Russia by wholesale by us; and, but for the indomitable
pluck of our forefathers, the whole of the continent of Europe would
have been at the conqueror's feet. Prussia was willing to strike for her
independence, but she was powerless--she was bankrupt. All her main
fortifications, with her capital, were in the hands of the enemy.
Napoleon had boasted, after the crush at Jena, that he would make the
princes and nobles of Germany beg their bread. Poor struggling Prussia
was held by an iron grasp. Military contributions, which were extracted
under pain of instant death, from its unhappy people during the year
1812, would exceed belief if it were not attested by authentic
documents: 482,000 officers and men, and 80,000 horses, traversed
Prussia's whole extent. More than half this immense force were quartered
above three months on the poor inhabitants; they were like a cloud of
locusts, devouring all they could lay their hands upon, shooting all
that dared to oppose them. We would say fervently, "God protect our
beloved isle from the ravages of war."
Our forefathers knew all this and far more, and had made up their minds
that if they had to die, some one else should die with them. They would
not die from tyranny, but sword in hand. It is not generally known that
at the commencement of this terrible war in 1792, we raised in this
glorious Old Isle of Freedom, by the operation of the ballot, 800,000
men, not for offensive warfare, but for defensive; and mind, our united
population then was only about 15,000,000. But to proceed: In east
Prussia alone, the enemy demanded and took by force 22,700 cattle,
horses 70,000, carts and waggons 13,349. The weekly cost of one corps
alone (Janot's, 70,000 strong) was 200,000 crowns, or £50,000 sterling,
the rest of the army being in proportion. These enormous contributions
were exclusive of the war indemnity of 640,000,000 francs, which was
rigidly exacted. In addition to all the above, the following was
demanded and taken by force:--200,000 quintals[44] of rye, 24,000 of
rice, 48,000 of dried vegetables, 200,000 bottles of brandy, 2,000,000
bottles of beer (I think I hear some one remark, they were a thirsty
lot), 400,000 quintals of wheat, 650,000 of hay, 750,000 of straw,
6,000,000 pecks of oats, 44,000 oxen, 15,000 cavalry horses, 600,000
quintals of powder, 60,000 of lead, 3,600 waggons, harnessed, with
drivers; hospital and field equipage for 20,000 men (sick and wounded).
The Germans may well be vindictive, knowing all this and far more; for
their wives and daughters were treated in such a manner that pen refuses
to record it. If the unfortunate peasant or husband remonstrated, he was
at once shot. They may well, I say, have thrown their scabbards away,
determined to conquer or die. At Lutzen, Bautzen, Dresden, Leipsic, and
a number of other fields, they fought with desperation. At Lutzen and
Bautzen, thousands of the Prussians, Landwehr[45] (Militia), fought
heroically in the clothing in which they came from the _plough tail_.
Their loss was very heavy, but they died to try and save the honour of
their mothers, their wives, and their sisters. Here we see the majestic
might which slumbers in the peasant's arm; their heroism was worthy of
veteran soldiers; 15,500 Prussians fell, and 25,000 French lay upon the
bloody field of Bautzen. "What!" said the spoilt child of fortune,
"after such a butchery, will these Prussian rustics not leave me a nail?
No results? no prisoners? no guns? Why, they rise from the dust. When
will this be done. When will it end?"[46] It was on this field that the
heroic Marshal Duroc[47] fell. The great conqueror was melted to tears.
Taking the hand of his dying old comrade and pressing it to his heart:
"Duroc," said the great conqueror, "_there is another world, where we
shall meet again_." Memorable words, reader, wrung by anguish even from
the child of infidelity. Again he exclaimed, "Another such victory, and
I am undone." No one dared to approach him. When appealed to for some
urgent orders about the pursuit of the Allies, his answer was: "All
to-morrow." Murmurs, regrets, and despair were heard even among the most
resolute. The Allies, backed up by British gold, arms, and munitions of
war, here determined to fight it out to the bitter end; they might die,
but not yield. The hero of Inkermann, Sir G. Cathcart, was in the thick
of both battles. His conduct was the admiration of the Emperor
Alexander. But at Lutzen and Bautzen the conqueror again fastened
victory to the French eagle. The two fields cost him 40,500 officers and
men. The undisciplined, raw material of Germany nobly faced Napoleon's
veterans. They made good use of the arms our people sent them. As soon
as it was found out that Germany had made up its mind in earnest to
fight for its liberty, old England at once gave the right hand of
fellowship to the fatherland. They could but die; all they wanted was
arms and money; and in two short months (from 18th March to 18th May) we
sent to Germany, with a free heart, the following, besides keeping up
Russia, Spain, and Portugal:--
Field-pieces with carriages, complete 218
Muskets and bayonets 124,119
Swords 34,443
Sets of uniform complete, with overcoats 150,000
Boots and shoes 175,000
Blankets 114,000
Linen shirts 85,000
Gaiters 87,190
Sets of accoutrements 90,000
Knapsacks, complete (with all necessaries) 63,000
Caps and feathers 100,000
Pairs of stockings (wool) 69,624
Pounds of biscuits 702,000
Pounds of beef and pork 691,000
And at the same time, we advanced Russia nearly £2,000,000 sterling.
Austria, Prussia, and the smaller German States, Spain and Portugal,
were again at this time assisted with the nice little sum of nearly
£10,000,000 sterling more. And it must be remembered that at this date
our population was only 18,000,000: yet we had an army of 753,375, all
voluntarily enlisted for life, or twenty-one years, or as long as
required, with a fleet that was well manned, that had and could bid
defiance to the world in arms: with a Native army in India of 201,000.
It was a death-struggle. Old England was the leader, and our forefathers
came out in their true colours, determined to die hard. For humanity's
sake, I would advise foreigners to let the Lion in the Briton slumber;
for if once roused, I have not the slightest hesitation in asserting
that, with our present population in the British isles alone--now nearly
40,000,000--we could put into the field, and keep more men there, than
any single State in Europe would like to face. That same invincible
spirit is still in the Briton that stood by them on the fields of
Albuera and Inkermann. It would be more profitable to die with honour in
defence of our homes and those we love so well, than to be treated as
the Germans were from 1806 to 1813. The reader need not be at all
astonished at the huge armies the Germans keep up at present. If they
have to die, they are going to do so sword in hand; but there will be a
lot of broken heads, bloody noses, and wooden legs, among their foes.
But again, shortly after the terrible battle of Bautzen, an armistice
was signed by Napoleon and the Allies. It was nothing but a blind to
gain time to bring up his reinforcements from the Rhine. In the meantime
the Allies were not idle. Napoleon was trying all he could to get
Austria to join his standard, but the star of England again prevailed.
It was plain to all that the days of Austerlitz and Jena were past:
there was now unity. We at once assisted Austria with 100,000 stand of
arms, and accoutrements, and £10,000,000 sterling, to put her army in
motion. Old Marshal "Forward!" (Blücher) had said long before this
"that if Germany wanted their freedom, they must do as England had done
from the first--rise to a man and fight for it." And the old hero said
to his king, "We must stick to them, and never stop combating until the
enemy are routed out of the Fatherland." He said what he meant, for he
never sheathed his victorious sword until the great conqueror was hurled
from power. Wellington's victories, one after another, in the north of
Spain and south of France had roused the whole German people. Napoleon
might well say, "What a war! we shall all leave our remains here." The
fact is, the British, side by side with the heroic boys of the Green
Isle, had set Europe an example; the benevolent hand of our forefathers
had touched the Germans in a vital point. They said, "If a nation of
bankers and shopkeepers can beat the conquering legions and roll them up
on every field, so will we, or die in the attempt." But we had again to
assist the Continent to strike the fetters off. Russia, Austria, and
Prussia again received as a loan, at one per cent., £3,000,000 each:
Spain, and Portugal, £2,000,000 each: Sweden, £2,000,000: and Sicily,
£600,000 sterling, besides warlike stores. And our own forces were
augmented to 1,107,000 men in arms, with upwards of 1,000 ships of war,
manned by 140,000 seamen and 31,000 marines; for our big cousins must
kick up a row with us, thinking of taking Canada from us. But they came
off second best, although millions of money were lavished, and thousands
of men fell on both sides.
At this time, Warren Hastings was carrying on a war on a large scale in
India, and slice after slice was being added to our dominions out there;
and yet our population was only 18,052,044. Europe owes a debt of
gratitude to old England; her liberty was the fruit of British
liberality. The vast hosts which stemmed the torrent of conquest on the
Elbe, and rolled it back to the gates of Paris, were armed, clothed, and
paid by this nation,--this glorious old nation, that is second to none;
that some short-sighted, weak-kneed old women--knaves--would fain make
their children believe is going down the hill. We again would advise
those who talk so loudly about our defenceless state, not to make fools
of themselves. We shall not, I think, be found wanting more than our
grandfathers were. And those that do not understand the true Briton, we
would advise them to read a wee bit, or for ever hold their peace. Let
our naval strength be doubled, if necessary. It is far better to be
ready, not imbecile, in our vital point. We can do without butcher's
bills. We feel confident that our navy would hold their own. But let us
proceed. Napoleon had once more collected a vast host around his
standards on the plains of Dresden. The great conqueror once more throws
down the gauntlet at the feet of Russia, Austria, Prussia, and Sweden.
His army was composed of 467,947 infantry, 50,900 cavalry, 1,536 guns,
with 35,000 artillerymen; in garrison strongholds, 80,300--total at
Napoleon's command 634,174, besides strong armies in the south of
France. And in garrison he had yet upwards of 1,200,000 men to back him
up; so that it required something more than short-sighted, weak-kneed
old women to pull him from his exalted pinnacle. The Allies had in the
field 721,383 men, with 1801 guns. All these forces were depending upon
Mr. and Mrs. Bull's inexhaustible long stocking. The terrible battle of
Dresden was fought; it lasted two days. It is not my intention to
describe it. Courage had done its best. But this rascal, Napoleon, was
one too many for the Allies. He once more nailed victory to the French
Eagle. It was not a crushing blow. The Allies retired from the field in
good order. This was the last battle[48] on a grand scale the great
conqueror ever won. The fruits of the victory were 13,000 prisoners
(nearly all Austrians), 26 cannon, 18 standards, while 40,000 men lay in
ghastly piles all over the bloody field. In the suburbs of Dresden the
sight was heart-rending, dead and wounded lying in heaps, just as if
eighty guns and ammunition waggons had dashed over them. Reader, these
are some of the glories of war! Only a few days afterwards, the bloody
field of Clum was fought.[49] The slaughter was terrible, for the
numbers engaged. The enemy lost 18,000 men, 60 guns, 300 ammunition
waggons, two eagles, and 5000 prisoners. This was an awkward blow,
coming, as it did, from an army just defeated at Dresden.
The great conqueror's race was run. He had made a good bid for heavy
stakes, and had lost all, through Old England's determined constancy.
She was the instrument in the hands of God in successfully combating
infidelity. Yet another terrible battle was fought at Kutczback.
Marshals McDonald and Ney commanded, against the redoubtable Blücher.
Napoleon's pets again came off second best. Vast numbers, amounting to
thousands, were charged with the bayonet into a raging mountain torrent,
and drowned; the continued loud hurrahs telling the triumph of Germany.
In trying to escape the infuriated cavalry, thousands more were
engulfed, and swept away. In the morning, it was but about up to their
knees, fordable at all points; but the flood-gates of heaven appeared to
have opened to the destruction of the despisers of Christianity. The
French were in overwhelming strength on the field. Things looked black
for the struggling Germans; but, owing to the heavy rains, the enemy
were divided, and nearly all those who had crossed the (to all
appearance) diminutive rivulet, but now a raging torrent, were destroyed
in presence of Marshal Ney--one that was second to none for intrepidity.
The enemy lost in killed or drowned 28,000 men; 18,000 prisoners, and
103 guns fell into the hands of Blücher. The torrent receded as fast as
it had risen, and the fire-eating old Blücher followed the retiring
enemy up all night, capturing prisoners and guns at every stride.
Altogether, the enemy were weakened by 58,000 officers and men, with 165
guns, and no end of ammunition waggons and standards. This was the most
glorious triumph the Germans had yet had. It had a wonderful effect upon
the hitherto victorious legions of Napoleon. It spoke volumes. It told
them plainly that a terrible day of retribution had dawned. And it
aroused the Allies to the highest pitch of excitement. Thousands and
tens of thousands who had left their fatherland after the crush at Jena,
and came to England, now solicited our Government to send them back to
fight in the ranks of their fatherland. The Government nobly responded,
and shipped them off in thousands, armed to the teeth. They cheered
heartily for Old England and England's King, as they sailed out of
Harwich. Hundreds of them cried for joy, to think that the day of
vengeance had dawned--that they would be able to wipe out the stain of
insulted mothers and ruined sisters. Hundreds shouted out with all their
might, "God bless Old England!" and shaking their swords and guns above
their heads, they swore to conquer or die. It was no longer an _army_
that Napoleon had to confront, but _nations in arms_. Princes, counts,
dukes, poets, tinkers, and tailors, were all animated with the same
determined resolution "to conquer or die." And, reader, when a nation is
unanimously determined to have their freedom, it is better to build a
bridge of gold for them to pass over than to try and keep them in
subjection. The following lines were composed and written by the German
poet, Theodore Korwen, on the morning of his death, on the bloody field
of Dresden:--
"Thou sword upon my thigh,
Those beaming glances, why?
Thou look'st so pleased on me:
I've all my joy in thee.
Hurrah!
"In the belt of a gallant knight
My glance is ever bright;
A freeman is my lord,
And this makes glad the sword.
Hurrah!
"Yes, trusty sword, I'm free,
And fondly cherish thee;
Dear as a bride, thou art
The treasure of my heart.
Hurrah!
"The trumpet-blast at dawn
Ushers in our wedding morn;
When the hollow cannon roar,
We'll meet to part no more.
Hurrah!
"Oh, sumptuous wedding cheer,
What goodly guests are here!
Ay, now the steed will gleam,
Like a bride on the morning beam.
Hurrah!
"Up, up, ye warriors stout,
Out, German riders, out;
Do ye feel your hearts' glow warm?
Take the loved one to thine arm.
Hurrah!
"Haste, give her lips the pledge,
A kiss to the iron edge;
Tide good, or evil tide,
Curst he who fails his bride.
Hurrah!
"Now bid the charmer sing,
While sparkling sword-blades ring;
'Tis our marriage matins' peal:
Hurrah! thou bride of steel!
Hurrah!"
Fight followed fight in rapid succession. The great conqueror had not
taught his marshals how to win fields; they were all beaten in detail.
They were splendid leaders of divisions, so long as their great captain
was at the helm. He could not give them brains. Marshal Soult was his
right-hand man, but he had to go and try to stem the tide of Wellington,
who was just one too many for him upon field after field. Defeat after
defeat now began to tell upon the French, and from the great conqueror
down to the drummer crept a secret feeling of distrust. It is true,
Napoleon himself had not yet been beaten, but news was coming in almost
daily that gave him a lot of disquietude. The news of Wellington's
triumph at Vittoria flew through Germany like wild-fire. The whole
French army on that field were routed. They lost all their guns (151),
10,000 prisoners fell into our hands, and one million pounds sterling.
King Joseph's coach and all his State papers were part of the booty of
this field. It caused the Spanish crown to fall from Joseph's head, and
swept the troops of the tyrant out of Spain.[0]
"Rule, Britannia," and "God save the King," were struck up all through
the allied camp, which, re-echoing through the Bohemian mountains, told
Napoleon plainly that Europe was united against him, and that the
detested Albions had turned the tables upon him. Our forefathers had
made up their minds to conquer or die; their strength, their shield,
their stronghold, was in a Triune God. Europe was shaken to its
foundations; duty, based on religion, was arrayed against talent
destitute of God. Combat followed combat; but at Gross Beeren--another
awkward field--Napoleon's invincibles were again beaten. The field was
covered with the slain, 10,000 of the enemy lying in ghastly piles.
Thirteen guns, and 1,500 prisoners, fell into the hands of the Allies.
Every German heart began to throb with emotion. The Saxons, who had
hitherto fought in the ranks of the French, came over in a body from the
ranks of the common enemy to fight in the ranks of the fatherland; and
with bands playing and colours flying, at once turned about and slipped
into their former comrades. But my readers must remember their
comradeship was of a forced nature. Yet another terrible defeat was
sustained by the heroic Ney, on the field of Dennewitz. The enemy here
lost 13,000 officers and men, and 43 guns. Six thousand stand of arms
were thrown away in order to accelerate their flight. The Allies lost
6,000--5,000 of whom were Prussians. Napoleon now began to see that his
Marshals could not cope with the allied Generals. They were all beaten
in detail; so he called them all in, with their armies, and retired on
the memorable field of Leipsic, and there put the now united allied
armies at defiance. As soon as it suited the plans and time of the
allied Commander-in-Chief, this terrible battle commenced. It lasted for
three days of unparalleled fighting. The stakes were heavy; freedom on
one side, and despotic military slavery on the other. With ringing
shouts, on the third day of this butchery, the allied armies advanced in
massive columns to storm Napoleon's last position. Under the eye of
their beloved chief, the Old Guard fought with desperation, but it was
all to no purpose; the great conqueror was defeated. A deep and rapid
stream (the Elster) was behind him, with but one bridge. The Allies, who
had carried the ramparts of Leipsic with a frightful slaughter, were
now _pell-mell_ after the foe. No quarter was given or taken. Thousands
on both sides succumbed to the deadly thrust of the bayonet. The Allies,
we must remember, were flushed with victory after victory. They had
twenty years of cruel bondage to avenge. During this dreadful fight, the
bridge--the only line of retreat open--was blown up. A terrible shriek
of despair burst from thousands. All who had not crossed must die or
surrender. Retribution had overtaken guilty, haughty, insulting France;
she was being humbled to the dust.
"The path of glory leads but to the grave."
It was on this field that the last representative of the royal line of
Poland perished. "Gentlemen," said that undaunted prince to the officers
around him (drawing his sword), "it now behoves us to die with honour;"
and plunging into the midst of a Russian column, he terminated a life of
honour. It was one of the last scenes of this bloody drama, which was
frightful on both sides. The brunt of the fighting, as will be noticed,
fell upon the Russians:--
Other Non-Commissioned
Generals. Officers. Officers & Privates.
The Russians lost 18 864 21,740
The Prussians 〃 2 520 14,950
The Austrians 〃 1 399 9,793
The Swedes 〃 -- 10 321
-- ---- ------
Total loss of Allies 21 1793 46,804
The enemy's loss was terrible: 28 generals, 2,540 officers, and 60,000
men fell. Prisoners: 1 king (of Saxony), 24 generals, 4,000 officers,
68,000 men; 350 guns, 900 ammunition waggons, eagles and standards by
wholesale. The blowing up of the bridge saved the wreck of Napoleon's
army; thousands were taken prisoners through it. But its destruction
prevented the victorious allied cavalry from following up a beaten foe.
The first-fruits of the victory was the sweeping of the French out of
Germany, except those that were in the strong fortress. They all, to a
man--now over 120,000 men--had to surrender in due course or die. The
multitude of mouths soon ate up all their stores. Napoleon was now
retiring with his half-famished, beaten, dejected army; three-fourths of
those that had fought so bravely, then in life's morning march, had
perished or were captives. The army was more like a huge funeral
procession than a warlike army--pressing on, pensive and silent. Many of
them envied the lot of those who had fallen, for then they would not
have witnessed the degradation of France. The Allies were in close
pursuit of Napoleon, who did not attempt to stop until he had put the
Rhine between him and his enemies. At the same time, Wellington was
nailing victory after victory to our standard in the south of France.
There was a lot of humble pie for Napoleon to eat. Mrs. Bull was the
cook, with Pat for an assistant, whose conduct had often been the
admiration of all, when our old flag was in danger.
As we have said, the Allied armies were in close pursuit of Napoleon's
legions, dejected and forlorn. 300,000 more men were demanded (food for
powder) by Napoleon, but he was rolled up before the quarter of them
could be brought up. The campaign of the great conqueror in France, in
1814, was sublime. With about 60,000 men, he kept at bay the huge armies
of the Allies for months. Combat followed combat in rapid succession. If
he could not strike out with that power he had done on former fields, on
which his fame was built as an all-conquering general, he stung their
huge armies terribly. The loss of the Allies was greater in this short
campaign than Napoleon's whole strength. But the Allies, in majestic
strength, were now fast approaching Paris. The conqueror's generalship
was of no avail now. Guilty Paris was soon surrounded with an iron
girdle, and tens of thousands, in their excitement, called upon their
artillery to fire on Paris. But, no! the Emperor Alexander avenged
mother Moscow by saving father Paris: and thus guilty, haughty Paris was
saved from destruction in a true spirit of Christianity, which any
thinking man must admire. But, in order to keep the Allies together, Mr.
Bull had again to shell out with the nice little round sum of
£12,000,000 sterling. That was the last stroke that pulled the usurper
from the throne and sent him to the Isle of Elba, with the empty title
of _Empereur_. Peace was now made with France. The tyrant was stricken
down; but no indemnity had France to pay. Revolutionary France was
humbled in the dust: her capital had been in the hands of her enemies,
and her sons defeated on field after field; but their wives and
daughters were respected. Infidelity had been conquered by Christianity.
The whole of the Allied sovereigns, with their princes, marshals, and
chief generals--some of the bravest of the brave--came to England after
the peace of 1814, before returning to their own country, to do homage
to our king, and to thank a free people, with a warm heart, personally,
for their energy and indomitable perseverance: who had saved themselves
by their firmness, and Europe by their example and generosity. But there
were then, as now, thousands in Old England who knew well it was not our
arm that saved us from bondage. She had an open Bible, and our
forefathers were not at all ashamed to call God their Father: "O Lord,
save Thy people, and bless Thine inheritance," went straight up to the
throne of grace from thousands of honest hearts daily. They acknowledged
then, as now, that they were His people, His "chosen people," His
"inheritance." They acknowledged before a wicked world that they were
His "servants," and that "none other fighteth for us but Thou, O
God!"[51] And how could they say _they_ had won the victory, now the
time had come the tyrant was struck down? To give God all the praise,
all denominations openly thanked an All-wise God fervently for His
powerful aid. It belongs to our historians to recount the festivities of
that joyous period. The Emperor Alexander, on visiting the Arsenal at
Woolwich, with its acres of cannon, shot, shell, and all kinds of
warlike implements ready, exclaimed: "Why, this resembles the
preparation of a great nation for the commencement of a war, rather than
stores still remaining at the termination of a struggle for very
existence for twenty-two years."
The following table will help my readers to see a little into the cost
of war in blood, in France alone. Thousands, yea, hundreds of thousands
of once happy homes were made miserable. No tongue can tell the amount
of misery this terrible war had brought about. Mothers refused to be
comforted, their darling boys being torn from their homes. Wives refused
to be comforted for loved husbands torn from their bosoms. Thousands,
and hundreds of thousands of orphans were left upon a cold world, all to
gratify one man's ambition for power.
Taken by conscription from 1793 to 1813:
Totals.
1793 { 300,000
1793 { 1,200,000
1798 No dates { 200,000
1799 { 200,000
1801 { 30,000
1805 17th January 60,000
1805 24th September 80,000
1806 4th December 80,000
1807 7th April 80,000
1808 21st January 80,000
1808 10th September 160,000
1809 18th April 40,000
1809 5th October 36,000
1810 13th December 160,000
1811 20th December 120,000
1812 13th March 100,000
1812 1st September 137,000
1813 11th January 300,000
1813 3rd April 300,000
1813 24th August 100,000
1813 9th October 200,000
1813 15th November 140,000
1813 November 300,000
---------
Grand Total 4,403,000
---------
But these figures do not include hundreds of thousands of young men that
were induced, by nice soft talk, to voluntarily join the army, to gain
distinction under their beloved pet corporal, as they were wont to call
Napoleon. Many of them did well, as nearly all his marshals rose from
butchers, publicans, tinkers, or shoemakers; in fact, many of them from
the lowest of the low. Their actions bespoke their origin as soon as
they were in power, either in Germany, Spain, or Portugal.
Europe had been convulsed in a death-struggle, in the iron grasp of
revolutionary France, for twenty-two years. The map of Europe was
completely upset. Kingdoms were shaken to their foundations. New
kingdoms were formed at pleasure, to suit the whims of this restless
tyrant. Old England, with her unconquerable fleet, was the only Power
which had escaped the ravages of war. A merciful God, who neither
slumbers nor sleeps, had built a hedge round about us. "The prayer of a
righteous man," we are told, "availeth much;" and thousands and tens of
thousands of honest hearts, both publicly and privately, daily
supplicated a throne of grace for His powerful aid: "From war, good
Lord, deliver us." Napoleon was a wonderful man, with an eagle eye. He
fastened victory after victory, triumph after triumph, to his standards.
He was endowed with a large mind, an iron will, and a cold heart. Nelson
was the first man that thwarted his plans. The destruction of his fleet
at the Nile was a heavy blow. To replace that fleet, a secret treaty was
entered into with the Danes. The whole of their fleet was to have been
placed at the disposal of this iron-minded man, to assist in the
invasion of our beloved isle. But again our God warded off the blow. Our
Government were not napping; they found it all out just in time to
despatch our one-eyed, one-armed hero, Nelson, to Copenhagen. The whole
of the Danish fleet was demanded. It was a daring stroke; but, reader,
sharp diseases require sharp remedies. It was life or death with us as a
nation. The brave Danes would not comply, but fought for it, and lost
all, except their honour. It was here that the darling hero of England
put his glass to his blind eye, and said he could not see the signal. He
did not want to see it. His answer to the distasteful signal was: "Nail
my signal to the mast-head for closer action." Thus he crushed the
enemy's fleet, and once more nailed victory to the flag which is second
to none. Napoleon was mad with rage, to see his plans again frustrated
by these detested Albions. The next crushing blow this dauntless hero
gave the tyrant was at Trafalgar. It was a death-stroke to this
eagle-eyed usurper. It swept his flag and his allies from the sea, and
proclaimed to the nations of the earth that Britain ruled on sea. This
triumph, my young readers must know, was purchased by our noble hero's
life-blood. It was on the field of Austerlitz, with the Russians and
their Allies completely crushed, that Napoleon said to those around him:
"Gentlemen, all we want now are fleets and commerce." He had hardly
pronounced the words, when he received the news of the annihilation of
his fleets, and those of his allies, by Nelson at Trafalgar; and that
the hero was dead. He was completely dumbfounded. His first words were:
"Would to God that man had been dead ten years ago." Our darling hero
was in life not immaculate; but it was evident to all thinking men that
this dauntless hero was the instrument in the hands of God to combat
infidelity. Our statesmen soon converted enemies into allies, and stuck
to Napoleon like a good bull-dog until he was worried out, and landed in
safety on the isle of Elba, under a faithful promise of peace and
good-will to all. It was soon found that this tyrant could not slumber
in the uneasy pomp at Elba. The whole of the representatives of Europe
were now at Vienna, in Congress, squabbling over the spoil of
dismembered Europe. When the astounding news of Napoleon's flight from
Elba was announced to that body by Count Talleyrand, all disputes were
at once thrown overboard. All were unanimous that this restless usurper
should be crushed, with all those that supported him. No time was to be
lost, for nearly all the French army had joined him. His name had such a
charm, that tens of thousands of veterans, whom the prisons of the
continent and ours had let loose, at once rushed to his standards. It
was plain to all, that, in order to put him down, Europe must
combine--that it would be a death-struggle. The old shouts of _Vive
l'Empereur_ resounded across the frontier as a challenge to Europe. It
was at once agreed that the British should furnish 125,000 men. Her
magnificent fleets were to blockade all French ports, or destroy all
that dare to put to sea. Prussia was to put into the field, within three
months, 236,000 men; Austria, with as little delay as possible, 300,000
men; Russia, 225,000 men; the smaller German States, 150,000 men;
Holland, 50,000 men; Spain and Portugal, 200,000 men. Thus Napoleon
would have to combat Europe combined, with 1,286,000 men in arms--all in
the pay of this glorious old isle. It cost us just one hundred and ten
millions sterling to finally rid Europe of this tyrannical monster. It
was plain to all that the British, supported by Prussia, were to be the
advance guard of the hosts of Europe. It is not my intention to go into
the oft-told tale of Waterloo; but a short explanation of Marshal
Grouchy's movements, I hope, will set some right; together with some of
the leading features of that historic red field. In plain language,
Grouchy simply obeyed strictly Napoleon's instructions--he was well
aware of the implicit obedience to orders which Napoleon
exacted--without even attempting to form an opinion of his own. His
orders were, to follow up the Prussians, to attack them, and never to
lose sight of them. The terrible battle of Wavre was fought the same day
as that of Waterloo. General Thielman's corps of Prussians fought it out
to the bitter end, and kept Grouchy's men fully employed all day. It was
not until seven p.m. that Grouchy received orders to manoeuvre on St.
Lambert. Up to this, Grouchy's army had been repulsed and driven back no
less than thirteen times during that terrible day. They fought from four
a.m. till midnight, and then the bridge of Wavre remained in the hands
of the Prussians. The slaughter was terrible. Marshal Blücher knew well
that his rear was attacked; but that heroic old veteran knew also that
it was not at Wavre that the fate of Europe was to be decided, but at
Waterloo; and, with the true spirit of a general, he resolved to
sacrifice Thielman's corps, if necessary, in order to destroy Napoleon's
army at Waterloo. All minor objects had to stand in abeyance. The brave
General Thielman not only kept Grouchy back, but beat him at all points.
The terrible combats at Quatre Bras and Ligny had already shown up the
quality of the troops under the different commanders. Napoleon's army
was composed principally of veterans of a hundred fields; they were
almost strangers to defeat. Victory had followed victory, and they felt
confident their beloved pet corporal's star was still in the ascendant.
They felt proud in once more following their all-conquering Emperor, who
had so often led them on to victory.
As far as Quatre Bras was concerned, Napoleon's invincible pets were
handled very roughly by Sir Thomas Picton's division and the Guards, and
victory was once more nailed to our glorious old flag. My readers must
not lose sight of the fact that Sir Thomas Picton had just completed a
long dreary march of twenty-two miles. The Brunswickers were holding on
manfully, well knowing that the thin red line was advancing to their
assistance. Every regiment of Sir Thomas's division particularly
distinguished itself. The conduct of the "Old Slashers" (28th) was
sublime. They threw themselves into square as the cuirassiers were
approaching. But, suddenly, all appeared to be lost: they were assailed
on three sides at once. All was calm; not a voice was heard but that of
Sir Thomas Picton, who was inside the square. This noble old hero called
out, "Twenty-eighth! remember Egypt." The next word was from its
Colonel: "Twenty-eighth! Ready--fire!" and down came the proud horsemen,
or they were scattered in all directions. None but resolute, cool men,
would ever have won that bloody field. The enemy had upwards of five
thousand splendid horse on the field. We had none--nothing but a few
guns and stubborn infantry. It was "do or die," until the Guards and
other reinforcements came up. But it was plain to all that the brunt of
the fighting would have to be borne by the British, Hanoverians, and
Brunswickers. That rascal, Napoleon, was again victorious over the
Prussians the same day at Ligny; but old Marshal Blücher, although
defeated, was not subdued, as the sequel will prove. He retired in good
order from the field of carnage, leaving nothing but heaps of slain for
the victor. Although our conquering commander had defeated Marshal Ney,
he was compelled to retire, as his flank was exposed to Napoleon's
eagle eye by the retreat of the Prussians. On that night, our victorious
General found means to have an interview with old Marshal Forward
(Blücher). The great conqueror was yet to be met; heavy stakes were yet
to be fought for; the great contest of twenty-two years was yet to be
decided. It was worth a "brush." It was liberty against military
despotic slavery; infidelity against Christianity. Our commander well
knew that, in point of numbers and experience, his army was much
inferior to that of the enemy. He had only about 50,000 upon whom he
could rely, and most of them consisted of recruits who had never seen a
shot fired. Wellington estimated the enemy at about 80,000 or 90,000
men, after deducting their loss in the two battles just fought. He
informed the fire-eating old Blücher of his victory over Marshal Ney,
and that he would accept battle with the conqueror of Europe on the
plains of Waterloo, if he (Blücher) would only promise to support him
with one or two corps. The dauntless old hero at once promised to
support His Grace, not with one or two corps, but with his whole army;
that he would be on the field, on Napoleon's flank, by one o'clock, and
that the two armies would crush the restless tyrant. It was enough;
Blücher had pledged his word in honour. The spoilt child of fortune had
now two resolute men to face, who, with all their followers, might die,
but never yield. And during that dreadful butchery, as hour after hour
rolled on, and attack after attack were driven back with frightful
slaughter, the dauntless cuirassiers, who had frequently ridden through
Russians, Austrians, Prussians, Spaniards, and Portuguese, were repulsed
time after time, and driven in headlong confusion from our squares. One
commander sent to His Grace the Duke of Wellington for assistance. The
answer was, "Tell him I have none; he and I, with every Briton on this
field, must conquer or die." "Enough; we will share his fate, my men."
Napoleon's old Guards, that had decided in his favour almost every field
their pet corporal had won, were formed up for the final attack. As for
fear, they did not know what it was; with them, it was death or victory.
Napoleon came part of the way with them. They were, in this instance,
made to believe that they were advancing to an assured victory, with the
heroic Marshal Ney as their leader. They advanced with deafening shouts
of "_Vive l'Empereur_." The Guards, grim-faced as they were, had to bow
to the all-conquering British bayonet. They were driven back by our
Guards and the 52nd with a terrible rush, by that never-failing weapon.
The intrepid Marshal Ney tried to find death, but could not. Six o'clock
had struck. The hero of a hundred fields might well get a little uneasy,
and turn his glass in the direction from which he expected assistance.
One corps of Blücher's army had been on the field since 4 p.m., and the
enemy fought desperately to keep old Marshal Forward from joining in the
fight. Wellington's confidence in the lion-hearted old veteran was not
misplaced on this trying occasion. He proved to the world that he was
worthy to lead the vanguard of that host which was combating for the
independence of Europe. His men sank to their ankles, and their
artillery to the axles, in mud, complaining that they could not get on.
The horses could not move the guns. These horsemen at once put their
shoulders to the wheels, until they were completely exhausted, and sank
down in the mud. Blücher then addressed them: "My children, you must get
on; you would not have me break my word. Courage! my dear children;
courage!" and at once sounded the charge. This had the effect. The roar
of the firing at Waterloo told them plainly that a dreadful battle was
being fought. The old veteran again told them that he was leading them
on to victory. "Forward, children! Forward!" About 7 p.m. the
lion-hearted Blücher burst with all the fury of the king of the forest
upon the flank of the great conqueror. The last attack of Napoleon's
redoubtable Guards were just recoiling in confusion from our victorious
bayonets. The last hour of Napoleon's Empire had struck. The disturber
of the peace of Europe that morning issued a most striking proclamation
to his army, which roused it to the highest possible state of fanatic
madness. Perhaps he thought it was needed, as they were about to face
the detested Albions. He concluded his fiery address thus: "For every
Frenchman who has a heart, the moment has arrived to conquer or die." It
was received with wild fanatic shouts of "_Vive l'Empereur_," which
resounded for miles, and struck terror into the hearts of thousands who
were under Wellington's standard as Allies. Well, the gauntlet was
thrown down at the feet of the deliverer of Spain and Portugal. I would
here note that the raw, undisciplined recruits of Great Britain have, on
more than one occasion, been compared with the rustics who fought so
desperately on the fields of Bautzen and Lutzen, when the great
conqueror exclaimed: "What! will these rustics not leave me a nail?" The
only difference was, our lads at Waterloo were dressed as soldiers; and
the Germans fought and died in the dress they came from the plough:--
"None from his fellow starts;
But playing manly parts,
And like true British hearts
Strike close together."--DRAYTON.
Well, the gauntlet was picked up by one who had on many a field proved
more than a match for the best of Napoleon's generals. They were to
"conquer or die." Let us just see what sort of example this hero sets.
When the Old Guards were driven back, the hero of so many fields became
as pale as death; and the last words, on the last field of him who had
been the cause of millions coming to an untimely end, were not
"Gentlemen, it now behoves us to die with honour," but "All is lost! let
us save ourselves"--bolting clean off the field like a ----. Charity
forbids us to stigmatise the hero of so many fields with the worst name
a soldier could go to rest with. But this we will say: On this important
occasion he lost his head.[52] His Grace the Duke of Wellington was not
addicted to any display, or ostentatious language; but he said, after
the battle was over, that if he had had with him the old seasoned
veterans that won the fields of Salamanca or Vittoria, in place of the
motley mass he had--which he could not, for the lack of discipline,
manoeuvre with--he would have chased the whole French army off the
field long before Blücher reached it. But, as it was, he had much to be
thankful for. Nothing that he had ever witnessed could surpass the
inflexible struggle of such raw material. In plain language, they were
sprigs of true Britons. Shoulder to shoulder they stood for hours, and
faced shot and shell: shoulder to shoulder they died where they stood,
overpowered, but not defeated. They were, on some parts of the field,
broken and crushed, but not subdued; and as soon as their immortal chief
gave the signal, the survivors advanced, shoulder to shoulder, with
levelled steel, and with a cheer which told Napoleon's vaunting legions
"that all was lost," and that the sons of liberty were the victors. The
last hour of Napoleon's Empire had struck.
It is a clear proof that the bravest of the brave are, at times, apt to
lose all control of themselves. He (Napoleon) had stood for hours and
witnessed his columns of attack, both horse and foot, driven back with
frightful slaughter, by the very people he had formed such contemptible
ideas of--except at sea. And to put the climax on the whole, his
redoubtable Old Guards, who had decided almost every field in his
favour up to the conquest of Leipsic, driven back in confusion, with our
bayonets uncomfortably close to them. He learned to respect the British
before he died, and acknowledged that we had the best infantry in the
world. At times, during the eventful day, things looked gloomy. No force
on earth seemed capable of resisting the heroes of Jena, Wagram,
Austerlitz, Dresden, and even some that had escaped the carnage of
Borodino, Beresina, Eylan, Friedland, Salamanca, Vittoria, and the routs
from Kutczback and Leipsic. Strong brigades of infantry were reduced to
a few hundreds. Many of the regiments were reduced to mere skeletons.
But our squares still stood as firm as if rooted in the earth,
frequently closing up as their ranks were thinned. For hours, the
British left and centre was the theatre of a terrible conflict. The
enemy's horse, more than 12,000 strong, in great part clad in glittering
armour, dashed at the guns and squares with unparalleled enthusiasm and
vehement cries of _Vive l'Empereur_. In one attack there were
seventy-seven squadrons engaged; the first line composed of cuirassiers
in burnished steel: the second, the red lancers of the Guard, in
brilliant uniform: the third, the chasseurs of the Guard, in rich furred
costume of green and gold, with huge black bearskin hats on their heads.
Never was there a more sublime military spectacle witnessed. But with
all their enthusiasm, vain were all their attempts to break that
stubborn infantry. With deadly aim they stretched these proud horsemen
on the plain, while the remainder recoiled in disorder out of the
frightful strife.[53] Frequently, during this terrible slaughter, both
commanders exposed themselves to almost certain death, in the midst of
the storm of shot and shell, grape and canister. Although fired at
point-blank, the brave cuirassiers, with deep gaps or chasms in their
ranks, again and again dashed at the squares, but instantly a deadly
volley of musketry would strike hundreds of these dauntless men on the
plains, until a complete rampart of dead and wounded men and horses lay
around the squares. The total loss of the Allies during this short
campaign--from the 15th to the 19th of June--was, British and King's
German Legion, 12,068; Hanoverians, 2,036; Belgians, 4,038;
Brunswickers, 1,508; Nassau (or Dutch), 634; total, 20,290. The Prussian
loss at Ligny, Wavre, and Waterloo was 33,120. At the crowning victory,
their loss was 6,998. The French army was almost destroyed: their loss
at Waterloo alone was over 40,000; then their loss at the terrible
combats of Ligny, Quatre Bras, and Wavre was not much short of 30,000
more. The wreck of Napoleon's veterans who re-crossed the Sambre and
regained their own country, at once dispersed as an army. The few
remaining cavalry and artillery sold their horses and made their way
home. The boasting army had received a death-blow. It was repeatedly
proved during the Peninsula campaigns that the British soldier could
hold their own against vastly superior numbers. The invincible obstinacy
which he inherits was displayed on field after field; and the crowning
victory over the great chief (Napoleon) on the plains of Waterloo was a
fitting sequel of Albuera, Salamanca, and Vittoria. The flight of the
crest-fallen conqueror and the rout of his chosen veterans of the
Imperial Guard, proclaimed his Grace the Duke of Wellington the greatest
captain of his age. His army (although largely composed of raw recruits)
had the honour of being unconquerable: it proved Great Britain to be one
of the greatest of military powers--in her wealth, in her manhood, and
in her self-sacrifice--and silenced the disgraceful croakers that almost
worshipped at the shrine of Napoleon, yet calling themselves Britons.
But we feel proud to know that the vast majority of Britons glory in the
noble achievements of their sires and themselves, which have built up
this vast Empire, now "second to none."
Thus my readers will see that the great conqueror was rolled up by the
advanced guard, before the other Powers had time to get up. His Grace
the Duke of Wellington and old Marshal (Forward!) at once marched on
Paris. The French talked very loudly about burying themselves in the
ruins of Paris; but as soon as Wellington and Blücher's standards were
seen on the heights, they capitulated. Marshal Blücher at once
retaliated a little on his own account, demanding one hundred million
francs (four millions sterling) for the pay of his troops. He had not
forgotten how his country had been impoverished and insulted after the
battle of Jena. Could that stern old veteran have laid hands upon
Napoleon, he would have made short work of him; and, but for the advice
of Wellington, some of the most ornamental parts of the city would have
been blown up. In due course, the allied sovereigns arrived in Paris,
with their huge armies. The French authorities were compelled to find
food, shelter, and pay for nearly one million of men, with 100,000
cavalry, for several months. Sixty-one millions sterling was demanded as
an indemnity for the hundred days' freak. It was but just that guilty,
insulting France should feel the rod of retribution. Nothing wounded
their pride so much as the demand for all the trophies of war which
Napoleon and his Marshals had plundered Europe of. The iron sword of
justice entered their inmost soul. It told them in language not to be
misunderstood that conquest had now reached their doors; that they were
not permitted to plunder the nations of the world with impunity, without
punishment. The list of articles of rarity claimed by Prussia alone,
which had been stolen from her palaces and noblemen's mansions, occupied
fifty-three closely printed pages. Spain came next with a long list;
then Austria, Russia, Portugal, Italy, and Holland. Each had their
demands. If the articles claimed were not forthcoming, their value was
demanded. Great Britain was the only Power in Europe that had nothing to
claim. The indemnity was divided among the different nations. Our
share--which was no small slice--our forefathers relinquished; it
covered a multitude of sins. They said we were not half so bad as we had
been painted. An Army of Occupation of 150,000 men was left in France
for three years, under His Grace the Duke of Wellington, to be paid,
fed, housed, and clothed at the expense of the French. They were made up
of 30,000 of each nation--Russia, Prussia, Austria, British, and the
smaller German States. This taught our neighbours to be civil, and gave
peace to Europe for nearly forty years. We had been the direct
instrument, in the hands of God, in striking the tyrant down, and giving
liberty to Europe. But in this death-struggle for independence a debt
was incurred and handed down to us as a legacy of eight hundred and
forty millions seven hundred and fifty-eight thousand seven hundred and
eighty-one pounds sterling. But we are free from the oppressor, and are
indebted to no foreign country. As Britons we can hold up our heads, and
tell the biggest and best of the European nations to stand off. We fear
none but God. The Quakers and Shakers may talk, but unless the Briton
has degenerated wonderfully, our fleet would hold its own, defending
our coasts; and with our teeming population, we would soon let Europe
see whether we could muster an army or not. I have no wish to foster a
bellicose spirit. God forbid! We know enough of war to know the value of
peace. But there is no necessity to get alarmed about our defenceless
state; for if we could do nothing else, we would send to Lancashire for
some thousands of their lads to purr[54] them a bit, and there are more
Nelsons now than there were in 1804. Marshal Soult (Napoleon's pet
General) once said that he _knew the English_--that they were the very
d--l in close quarters. "Stick to them, my lads!" has been shouted in
the writer's ears in the thick of more than one fight.[55]
Such, dear reader, has been the heroic conduct of the sons of Albion,
and our sister isle, Ireland, either by land or sea, when the honour of
our glorious old flag of liberty has been at stake, that all friends or
foes have had to admire. The great conqueror, Napoleon, in speaking of
the British soldier, said that England had the best infantry in the
world, that they could dispute the palm of victory with the best veteran
troops in Europe, and whoever attacks such good troops as Great Britain
produces, without a positive assurance of success (by overwhelming
odds), send them to certain destruction. He had had bitter experience of
our stubborn infantry, and the terrible charges of our heavy horse; he
had learned to respect us; and I think we can say without egotism, that
the present generation are true chips of that unconquerable stubborn
race which have carried Old England (or rather, Great Britain) through
thick and thin. Reader, do not get alarmed: there are as good men now as
ever our fathers or grandfathers were, and would hit as hard for the
honour of our glorious Empire as they did. Only treat them fairly with
good leaders, and the biggest bullies in Europe would find the sons of
the United Kingdom a tough lot to handle. The British soldier or sailor
had need be made of tough material: most of his life is spent exposed to
the pestilential climates, to say nothing of the trials and hardships of
warfare. Tommy Atkins may grumble sometimes, but he is there when
wanting, and woe to the enemy he can close with.
But we know well that there are now living in this glorious old isle,
men calling themselves Britons, unpatriotic enough and un-English enough
to depreciate and even to endeavour to crush those that have saved them
from dishonour. Gentlemen, Englishmen, is this justice and Christian
charity to those to whose heroic courage and devoted patriotism it is
owing that the sacred soil of old England has been unprofaned by a
foreign foe? Countrymen, your hearths and homes are inviolate, your
national feelings uninsulted, your peace and happiness undestroyed.
Whilst all the Continental nations of Europe have, in turn, had to drink
to the dregs the cup of humiliation, Old England, under the protection
of the Great I AM, and the indomitable pluck of her sons, has escaped
the violence and dreadful visitations of war--all that the horrors,
miseries, and devastation of evil passions of lust, rapine, and cruelty
can inflict. We say again, happy England knows nothing of cruel war: she
breaks her daily bread in peace; seed-time and harvest never fail;
domestic happiness, human loves, and human friendships are never
interrupted; and on each revolving Sabbath her church bells calmly and
peacefully invite all, old and young, rich and poor, to the house of
prayer and thanksgivings. I think most of my readers will say, Shame on
all those that would try to traduce and humiliate the spirit of the
British soldier or sailor who have for centuries proved to the world
that they are true types of an undefeated race. These favoured isles
know nothing about their homes in flames, their property pillaged, their
mothers, their wives and daughters defiled and dishonoured, their
children massacred before their eyes, themselves insulted; and should
the broken-hearted husband open his mouth, shot or chopped to pieces.
Thus far, these glorious old isles know nothing of the rough clash of
war: know nothing of warfare but the sight of hostile standards as war
trophies: know nothing of the roar of cannon or the roll of musketry:
know nothing of weeping mothers with smiling infants at their breasts,
searching amidst piles of dead for their loved ones. And surely her
brave war-worn and patriotic defenders are entitled at least to your
gratitude and good report, and not let them starve--
"With half their limbs in battle lopp'd away,
Beg bitter bread through realms their valour sav'd."
I appeal, "not for myself," but for my comrades, to you, "Englishmen."
Unity! Unity! "Unity is strength." The great German Empire knows it
well. The strongest nation in the world would think twice before they
attacked them. They dwell together in unity. And we feel compelled to
say, the man who tries to dismember our empire is no friend, but a
traitor.
Before we close this book, just a few words upon Union. This dear old
isle, with her glorious offspring--an empire such as this world has
never seen before! of which Britons are so justly proud. Let us for a
moment look for the past empires. Babylon, in the zenith of her power,
where is she? Medo-Persia, in the plenitude of her far-reaching sway,
where is she? Greece, in all her Alexandrian pride of conquest, where is
she? Rome, in the cruel slavery of universal dominion, where is she? The
great French Empire, as under Napoleon, with his military despotic
power, where is it? The great Mogul Empire, with its despotic grinding
power, where is it? They none of them trusted or looked to the strong
arm of the Great I AM. We would point out that our glorious empire is
larger, stronger, and better than them all. Larger in area, and with a
population exceeding three hundred millions; stronger, in doing battle
for the right; for when Britain draws the sword in a just cause, woe be
to the enemy. The same unconquerable spirit is in the Briton, and the
same unchanging God watches this little isle with a jealous eye. Let us
be true to ourselves, and faithful to our father's God, and we have
nothing to fear. Better, because her laws are founded on the Book of
books--Divine truth--fit for the universe. The first and the wisest
thing for us to look to is the realization of the bond of universal
brotherhood, binding our far-reaching empire in federal union, and
making us what we now are, in race and blood--a perfect mighty whole.
This, my dear reader, is no wild dream, but a thing that is certain of
accomplishment, because the materials are all ready to hand. That hour
will surely come, although we may not live to see it. So take heed. The
blessings and advantages of such a union to the universe would be
unspeakable. Let us ask ourselves why we occupy the position of eminence
amongst the nations of the earth to-day? Why God cares for and watches
over us so tenderly and unceasingly? Is it not, reader, that we are His
people--set apart for the accomplishment of His high purpose? Why is it
we do not keep up such huge armies as other nations?--that we are the
beautiful isle of the sea, set apart by an all-wise God to proclaim the
riches of His mercies to the children of men? To proclaim, I say, the
glad tidings, that "there is but one Mediator between God and man--the
MAN CHRIST JESUS." A man must be blind indeed not to see that the
strength of Britain lies in the powerful arm of Him who spake a world
into existence, and who said to the raging billows, "Peace! be still."
Britain, as a nation, has for many years openly acknowledged God in all
her doings. Again, He has committed to our care the oracles of His
divine will towards the children of men. He has honoured us before all
the nations of the earth. In the history of mankind throughout all ages
there is no parallel to our own case, where so vast an empire has come
from such small beginnings. And just in proportion to our trust in God,
so shall we be true to ourselves, and the rest of humanity. We are made
up of a "multitude of nations." We possess "the gates of our enemies."
Let us, then, march on, in the pleasant bonds of love, towards a higher
life; the reward of which is set before us, and to all who love God and
keep His commandments. So let our watchword be, Union! Union!!
Union!!!--in the best interests of common humanity.
Now, how can we close our book better than by asking His blessing still
to rest upon this glorious old isle. That He may still protect and bless
her most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria; while we repeat the cry--"From
war, good Lord deliver us."
The reader, I hope, will overlook all imperfections, knowing this comes
from the pen of one who has tried to do his duty upon many a hard-fought
field, and who is ready to do it again, rather than see the flag--that
glorious old flag!--that every honest Briton loves so well, trampled in
the dust.
T. GOWING,
Late Sergeant-Major, 7th Royal Fusiliers.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A nice warm reception for a prodigal son. I was not 21, and it set
me thinking of the comfortable home in Norwich that I had left.
[2] Now she can boast of other heroes--to wit, Troubridge, of Inkermann;
Windham, of the Redan; Wilson, of Delhi; and another Wilson, of El Teb.
[3] The total force engaged that night was about 1,500 men against
15,000;--the same number of unconquerable British soldiers that stood
triumphant on the fatal Hill of Albuera.
[4] And that vow was kept not only by the 97th.
[5] The 97th could be distinctly heard shouting "Remember Captain
Vicars, boys," "Stick to them;" and the Officers shouting "Give it home,
my lads."
[6] It is well I had picked men with me, or all would have been taken
prisoners or killed on the spot.
[7] The Generals' watches had been timed alike, and as the minute hand
denoted twelve (mid-day) the French sprang forward.
[8] A great number of these men were ready for anything, life or death.
On the night of the 7th September they assembled in hundreds in front of
their lines, and committed themselves into the hands of an all-wise God
in prayer and praise, while others burst forth with the National Anthem.
Such were the men who stormed Sebastopol. Hundreds of them never saw
another sun set.
[9] After our stormers had entered the Redan the enemy came at us in
swarms, but were kept back by the bayonet.
[10] It was an Irishman named Welsh who was instrumental in saving my
life. It turned out that he had noticed me fall, and when he found that
he had to retire from the Redan, he carried me up to the ditch and let
me slip in, and then with assistance got me out of it, and carried me
across that terrible 200 yards, being shot through both legs in doing
so. Before he reached our leading trench, some other good Samaritan
picked me up and ran away with me. Poor Welsh died in India, at
Ferozepore, in 1865, and, as a mark of respect, I put a stone over his
remains. He was a rough diamond, but every inch a soldier and a good
loyal subject. I hope I may state now, without egotism, from the day I
found out that Welsh had done me such service, I did all that lay in my
power for him and for his poor mother.
[11] Lieutenant Bott.
[12] The Scots Greys.
[13] Foreigners have no more idea than a child how to use their hands;
they will scratch and kick, but if you give them a good go-along, they
will not face up again.
[14] A familiar word used in the North of England.
[15] Including irregulars.
[16] They consisted of six regiments of Cavalry, 14 regiments of
Infantry, a number of batteries of Artillery, all drilled troops, and a
great mob of followers, all well-armed out of our magazines.
[17] Regiments that first confronted the rebels at
Ghazee-oo-deen-Nuggur, and again at Badulee-Ke-Serai, under command of
Brigadier Wilson. Two batteries of Artillery and a portion of Engineers
were with the column.
[18] Regiments that joined them from Umballah, just after the last
fight, under Sir H. Barnard, K.C.B., who then assumed command of the
army.
[19] Regiments that joined the field force on the heights of Delhi, at
various periods during the siege.
[20] Which was stationed at Fort Murdan.
[21] "When by the blessing of Providence internal tranquillity shall be
restored, it is our earnest desire to stimulate the peaceful industry of
India, to promote works of public utility and improvement, and to
administer its government for the benefit of all our subjects resident
therein. In their prosperity will be our strength, in their contentment
our security, and in their gratitude our best reward. And may the God of
all power grant to us, and to those in authority under us, strength to
carry out these our wishes for the good of our people."
[22] "She shall possess the gates of her enemies."
[23] "Faugh-a-Ballagh," clear the road.
[24] Now the Inniskilling Fusiliers.
[25] Great Queen.
[26] £300,000.
[27] Native pipe.
[28] Born May 11, 1789; died April 8, 1872--_Extract from Family
Bible._--T. G.
[29] His Grace the Duke of Wellington, the hero of a hundred fights, was
never once defeated in the open field, but as a man and a gentleman he
has openly acknowledged that he often committed faults, and with any
other than British troops would have been defeated. His men always got
him out of scrapes or muddles with the queen of weapons. No end of
instances could be quoted where a handful of men have decided a doubtful
field, and have, as it were, snatched victory from the foe. Napoleon's
grim-faced veterans of the Guard on more than one hard contested field
had to bow before the conquering sons of Albion. Let us be but true to
ourselves, and loyal to our beloved Sovereign, and El-Bodón, Albuera,
Victoria, or Waterloo, may easily be repeated.
[30] Before any man was admitted into the Old Guard, he had to pass
through twelve campaigns, and for the middle Guard, six campaigns. They
might, therefore, well be called veterans.
[31] The 3rd or Buffs left upon the field--killed, 4 officers, 4
sergeants, and 280 men, or rank and file; missing, 2 officers, 15
sergeants, 1 drummer, and 161 rank and file, and then the proud
remainder stood as conquerors. A number of the wounded died, or were
killed by our own Artillery, who had to dash across the field in pursuit
of the enemy; such was the terrible field that the two Fusilier
Regiments won. One of the Battalions of the 7th was almost annihilated,
but the proud remainder stood as conquerors on that fatal hill.
[32] The battle of Goojerat was fought in 1849, our forces being
commanded by the late Lord Gough, when the Sikhs and Afghans were
completely overthrown, and the Punjaub annexed.
[33] No fear of rain, except in the monsoon, which sets in once a year
and lasts for three months.
[34] Our men had looked upon death in every form, but could not look
into that hideous well a second time.
[35] History must draw a veil over the sufferings of these unfortunate
martyrs. Their murderers, it should be said, were excited to frenzy with
bhang.
[36] Dr. Cay, of the Coldstream Guards.
[37] Alison.
[38] Alison.
[39] They hate us now as much as they did then; and some of these fine
mornings they will find out our strength in India, with its teeming
millions under our glorious old flag, who would die to a man before they
would yield. They will find that "unity is strength," for our equal laws
since the Mutiny have bound them to us in love. Hundreds of thousands of
them have through us learnt the way of salvation, and God, even our God,
is blessing us as a nation for it.
[40] Nelson, as an instrument in the hands of God, had done his work. He
was raised up just at the right time to combat and humble infidelity.
This wonderful man was, and always will be, the darling hero of England.
This illustrious hero will live as long as our language endures, as the
one who stood fearlessly at the deadly breach, and bid defiance to all
our enemies. His noble conduct on all occasions when in presence of the
foe was sublime. Other heroes have fought desperately to uphold the
honour of our flag, but we can point to none whose conduct was so
majestic. Scotland can point to a Moore--a Clyde; Ireland can point to a
Wellington; Wales can point to a Picton; but all would bow in adoration
to the illustrious Norfolk hero.
[41] He believed that his sceptre was to be universal. He bid for heavy
stakes, viz., "the empire of the world." It was only the detested
Albions that thwarted his plans. He would exclaim in his rage or
excitement, "I will humble them in the dust yet, and lay London in
ashes." It was in order to get at us that this terrible campaign in
Russia of 1812 was undertaken. Alexander, backed up by England, would
not suffer himself to be dictated to by the conqueror. He was a
far-sighted man, but was blinded to the fact that he was rushing on to
destruction, that he was fighting against the strong arm of the Great I
Am. Alexander hated us as much as Napoleon did; he carried two faces
under one hat; but, with his vast sea-coasts, he dreaded our power,
which he well knew he could not withstand.
[42] What would he have said, had he lived to witness or to hear of the
disgraceful capitulation of Marshal Bazaine at Metz? Why, he would have
shot the traitor on the spot.
[43] "The heroic Ney was of an old Irish family."--ALISON.
[44] Quintal, 112 lbs.
[45] Alison.
[46] A little over two years rolled on; millions of money our
forefathers advanced to the straggling nations of Europe. Hundreds of
thousands of poor fellows were launched into eternity. The last act was
fought out on the bloody field of Waterloo, and the final scene of the
great drama came to an end in the midst of a terrible storm on the rock
of St. Helena, 5th May, 1821. On his deathbed, Napoleon acknowledged to
those around him that there was a God, who was Great Britain's strong
arm.
[47] This noble old veteran was for many years treated very harshly, to
say the least of it, by Napoleon. His great offence was that he would
persist in carrying a Bible with him, and using it as often as an
opportunity presented itself. All Napoleon's cuffs and sneers did not
affect him. His counsel during the Moscow campaign had more weight with
Napoleon than that of the fiery Murat or the heroic Ney. In his younger
days he had sworn to stand or fall by the great conqueror, and he would
not forsake his benefactor. He died as he had lived--a soldier in a
twofold sense. He was the only one of Napoleon's marshals or generals
that professed Christianity, and he often had a stormy path; but owing
to his constancy, his tormentors became his best friends. The great
conqueror was not the only one that was melted to tears at this noble
Christian's death.--_Alison._
[48] The conflicts at Montmirail, Vauchamps, Champanbert, and Montereau,
in the campaign of 1814, were combats, not battles. Ligny was a pitched
battle, but it could not be called a decisive victory. No prisoners or
standards, and few guns, were taken.
[49] Napoleon says (and no mean authority) that "Clum and Albuera were
the two heaviest battles on record for the numbers engaged." It was
bludgeon work; on each field they were what may be called gluttons. The
former against the Russians and Prussians; the latter, against the
English. Our allies, the Spaniards, bolted. On both fields the French
were beaten.
[50] The crushing blow at Vittoria loosened the grasp of Napoleon on
Spain. It swept them, like chaff before the wind, out of their fertile
plains, valleys, and mountains, and at once exposed their extraordinary
system of forced contributions, _i.e._, "That war should maintain war."
In one province alone, it was found that, for the year 1811, the French
Marshal had imposed a contribution of two hundred million reals--or
about two millions sterling--upon its unhappy people. This sum was equal
to five millions sterling in England. The half of this sum exhausted the
whole money in the province in gold, silver, plate, and jewels; the
remainder was taken by force in grain, cattle, clothing, and all
articles necessary for the troops. The inhabitants were exasperated
beyond all bounds, and were butchered in cold blood; and their daughters
and wives were insulted and disgraced before their husbands' and
fathers' eyes, who, if they opened their lips, were at once shot, or cut
limb from limb. It roused the people to frantic madness; they swore to
conquer or die.
[51] If the finger of God was ever shown in the history of a nation, it
was during those troublesome times Europe was convulsed. Whole nations
trembled at the feet of the great conqueror. Victory followed victory at
a rapid pace. But God had steeled the minds of our forefathers to combat
him when, to all appearance, it was a doubtful struggle; but with noble
devotion, perseverance, and valour unequalled in the history of the
world, although achieved with painful sacrifices, God in His providence
watched over old England, and deemed us as a nation worthy to accomplish
such great things. Britain, as a nation, had for years past openly
acknowledged God's providential Fatherly care, and stood up openly and
determinately to abide in the trust of the strong arm of the Great I AM.
[52] It would have been more in accordance with his past glorious career
to have placed himself at the head of his faithful Old Guards, and here
met a soldier's death for that beautiful France he pretended to love so
well. Posterity would then have regarded him as an undaunted hero, true
till death.
[53] It was repeatedly proved, during this sanguinary struggle, that man
to man, the enemy's cavalry, although clad in glittering steel, could
not withstand our heavy Dragoons. They rode completely over them, time
after time; their ringing shouts of _Vive l'Empereur_ being more than
once altered to "Quarter! quarter!" with the Union Brigade riding
victoriously through or over them. It was then as at Balaclava: "Hurrah!
hurrah!" and "Hurrah for Ould Ireland and Scotland for ever." They shall
not lord it over us. And then, as if they were pasteboard (the foe is
advancing)--
Sound! Bid your terrible trumpets bray,
Blow, till their brazen throats give way.
Sound to the charge! Sound, I say.
Hurrah! hurrah!
[54] Kick them.
[55] That is more than thousands of foreigners can say, although they
live in the midst of us year in and year out.
T. FORMAN AND SONS, PRINTERS, SHERWOOD STREET, NOTTINGHAM.
Transcribers’ Notes
Hyphenation, not within prose, poetry or quotation, has been
standardised.
No standardisation has been applied to spelling of regimental
battle honours.
Spelling of ‘Afridis’ standardised. (from Afridees, Afriedies)
Spelling of ‘Aldea de Pont’ standardised. (from Alodea-de-Pont)
Spelling of ‘Barrosa’ has been standardised.
Spelling of ‘Blücher’ has been standardised (from Blucher)
Spelling of ‘cringing’ has been standardised (from cringeing)
Spelling of ‘Faugh-a-Ballagh’ has been standardised.
Spelling of ‘Friedland’ has been standardised. (from Freidland)
Spelling of ‘Fuentes de Oñoro’ standardised. (from Fuentes d’Onor)
Spelling of ‘Pélissier’ has been standardised
Spelling of ‘Shakespeare’ has been standardised.
Author attributions at the end of poetry has been standardised in italic
style—print has mix of italics and small caps.
Vessels Bellerophon, Prince, Owen Glandore and The Shannon italicised.
Named wars: ‘war’ has been capitalised i.e. War of American
Independence, Peninsular War, Crimean War etc.
page 9: opening quote inserted: power; “we offer you
page 17: Fitzoy to FitzRoy
page 18: Fitzroy to FitzRoy (twice)
page 19: Nevelle to Nivelle
page 26: Borossa to Barrosa
page 28: Beautzen to Bautzen
page 33: double ‘of’ reduced to single: thick of it.
page 36: double ‘with’ reduced to single: India, with its.
page 51: Regiment to Regiments: any one of these three Regiments.
page 52: our’s to ours: Captain Monk of ours
page 58: Our men had handled the enemy very roughly ==> The enemy had
been very roughly handled by our men: ‘The enemy had been very roughly
handled by our men more than once since the Alma, and they were shy at
coming to close quarters, unless they could take us by surprise.’
page 67: Attribution added for The Charge of the Light Brigade: ‘Alfred,
Lord Tennyson.’
page 79: “Bon Anglais” and “Vive l’Empereur,” italicised
page 85: our’s to ours: while ours were removed from the field
page 108: our’s to ours: meeting the right of ours
page 133: our’s to ours: every officer of ours.
page 148: our’s to ours: and a nice boy of ours
page 194: our’s to ours: young officer of ours.
page 208: our’s to ours: a sergeant of ours
page 210: priset to priest: marry a priest.
page 216: Alder de Pont to Aldea de Pont
page 216: 336 to 436: (see p. 436)
page 216: El Bodon to El Bodón
page 218: Bidassra to Bidassoa
page 220: Charleston to Charlestown
page 223: Ferozesha to Ferozeshah
page 225: Fuentes-d’-Onor to Fuentes de Oñoro
page 235: it’s to its: made up its mind.
page 230: “Vive l’Empereur” and “Bon Anglais;” italicised
page 237: beakfast to breakfast
page 248: Bashi-bazouks to Bashi-Bazouks
page 252: Bhotan to Bhutan
page 259: Boulan Pass to Bolan Pass
page 256: Allyghur to Ally Ghur
page 261: holy boys to Holy Boys
page 265: Barrackpoor to Barrackpore
page 266: Barrackpoor to Barrackpore
page 283: women to woman.
page 288: rissalder’s to rissaldar’s
page 289: empire to Empire
page 296: infanty to infantry
page 299: villians to villains
page 300: our’s to ours: as much as it was in ours
page 332: empire to Empire
page 353: Afriedies to Afridis
page 353: Afreidis to Afridis
page 360: albert to Albert
page 399: Faugh-a-Balagh’s to Faugh-a-Ballaghs
page 401: name of Seven Years’ War, capitalised
page 414: Ramilies to Ramillies
page 435: El Boden to El Bodón
page 436: El Boden to El Bodón
page 437: our’s to ours: driven back by ours
page 442: Legonier’s to Ligonier’s
page 445: Isandulah to Isandlwana
page 476: Olphert’s to Olpherts’: Captain Olpherts’ Battery
page 477: our’s to ours: battle is not ours
page 516: Frieidland to Friedland
page 517: Hougermont to Hougoumont
page 519: separabat to separabit: Quis separabit
page 541: Niville to Nivelle
page 563: Demeurtz to Dennewitz (also changed within Chapter XV Index)
page 575: empire to Empire
page 576: empire to Empire
footnote 44: Allison to Alison
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "A Soldier's Experience
- or A Voice from the Ranks: Showing the Cost of War in Blood and Treasure
- A Personal Narrative of the Crimean Campaign, from the Standpoint of the Ranks; the Indian Mutiny, and Some of its Atrocities; the Afghan Campaigns of 1863" ***
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