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Title: The Story of the British Army
Author: King, C. Cooper
Language: English
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THE STORY
OF
THE BRITISH ARMY
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
MAP AND PLAN DRAWING
HISTORY OF BERKSHIRE
GEORGE WASHINGTON
THE BRITISH ARMY
ALSO EDITOR OF
GREAT CAMPAIGNS IN EUROPE
[Illustration: FIELD MARSHAL THE RIGHT HON. VISCOUNT WOLSELEY, K.P.,
G.C.B., G.C.M.G., &C., &C.
_From a Photograph by Werner & Son, Dublin_
]
THE STORY
OF
THE BRITISH ARMY
BY
LIEUT.-COLONEL
C. COOPER KING, F.G.S.
WITH PLANS AND ILLUSTRATIONS
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET, W.C.
LONDON
1897
IN TOKEN OF A LENGTHENED FRIENDSHIP
I DEDICATE THIS STORY
OF
HER MAJESTY’S ARMY
TO
ITS COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF
F.-M. THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
VISCOUNT WOLSELEY, K.P., G.C.B., G.C.M.G.
PREFACE
I have endeavoured in the space at my disposal to show how the British
Army has grown up. I have tried merely to tell a “story,” and therefore
omitted much that might have been said regarding the noble work the
Queen’s Army has done. As regards the opinions advanced, I have always,
as far as possible, given the reasons for my views and the authorities
which induced me to form them.
I have adhered to the principle of using the old regimental numbers,
for the sake of continuity; though, after the date when these were
altered, I have, in most cases, added their present territorial titles.
I wish to express my great appreciation of the courtesy of the Colonel
and the Officers of the Lancashire Fusiliers (20th), South Wales
Borderers (24th), and the Prince of Wales’s Own (West Yorkshire)
Regiment (14th), in allowing me to sketch the uniforms of their men
from the interesting histories of their respective regiments, and to
E. C. Brett, Esq., for permitting me to copy the suits of armour that I
have chosen as types from his father’s magnificent volume on _Arms and
Armour_.
KINGSCLEAR, CAMBERLEY,
_March 1897_.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE ARMY OF THE PEOPLE--TO 1100 1
II. THE ARMY OF THE NOBLES--TO 1500 14
III. THE PURITAN HOST 35
IV. THE ARMY OF THE KING--TO 1701 55
V. MARLBOROUGH AND HIS MEN--TO 1714 72
VI. THE EMBERS OF THE CIVIL WAR--TO 1755 87
VII. THE ARMY IN AMERICA--TO 1793 107
VIII. THE ARMY AT SEA--TO 1815 128
IX. THE PENINSULAR ARMY: (_a_) ITS MAKING--1793-1808 155
X. THE PENINSULAR ARMY: (_b_) ITS TRAINING--1808-1811 173
XI. THE PENINSULAR ARMY: (_c_) ITS REWARD--1811-1814 191
XII. THE ARMY IN THE NETHERLANDS--WATERLOO, 1815 206
XIII. THE ARMY AFTER THE LONG PEACE--THE CRIMEA, 1854 236
XIV. THE ARMY IN INDIA: (_a_) THE EAST INDIA COMPANY, ITS
RISE--1600-1825 264
XV. THE ARMY IN INDIA: (_b_) THE FALL OF THE COMPANY AND
AFTERWARDS--1825-1858 277
XVI. THE ARMY IN INDIA: (_c_) THE ARMY OF THE QUEEN-EMPRESS--
1858-1896 318
XVII. THE ARMY IN THE FAR EAST--1819-1875 336
XVIII. THE ARMY IN SOUTH AND WEST AFRICA--1834-1836 351
XIX. THE ARMY IN NORTH AFRICA--1867-1896 374
XX. THE ARMY AS IT IS 396
APPENDIX I.--THE PRINCIPAL CAMPAIGNS AND BATTLES OF THE
BRITISH ARMY SINCE 1658 407
APPENDIX II.--THE LIST OF REGIMENTS WITH THEIR PRESENT
AND FORMER TITLES 411
APPENDIX III.--LIST OF BADGES, MOTTOES, AND NICKNAMES
OF THE ARMY 416
INDEX 424
LIST OF MAPS, PLANS, AND ILLUSTRATIONS
LEADERS
PAGE
FIELD-MARSHAL VISCOUNT WOLSELEY, K.P., G.C.B.,
G.C.M.G., etc. _Frontispiece_
THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH (from an old print) 73
THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON 209
ARMOUR
NORMAN (from the Bayeux Tapestry) 10
PLATE ARMOUR, _circa_ 1500 23
PLATE ARMOUR AT BARNET, 1471 29
HALF ARMOUR, 1640 35
UNIFORMS
PRIVATE SOLDIER, 14TH REGIMENT, 1712 72
PRIVATE SOLDIER, 24TH REGIMENT, 1751 104
PRIVATE SOLDIER, 14TH REGIMENT, 1792 126
PRIVATE SOLDIER, 20TH REGIMENT, 1812 200
PRIVATE SOLDIER, 24TH REGIMENT, 1840 239
OFFICER, LIGHT COMPANY, 20TH REGIMENT, 1853 260
PRIVATE SOLDIER, 14TH REGIMENT, 1864 322
PRIVATE SOLDIER, 24TH REGIMENT, 1879 370
BATTLES
THE LINES OF BATTLE AT BARNET, 1471 32
THE LINES OF BATTLE AT NASEBY, 1645 43
THE LINES OF BATTLE AT BLENHEIM, 1704 77
THE LINES OF BATTLE AT WATERLOO, 1815 228
THE LINES OF BATTLE AT TEL EL KEBIR, 1882 383
GENERAL MAPS
ENGLAND AND WALES 5
HASTINGS 7
QUEBEC 111
SPANISH PENINSULA 173
SALAMANCA 198
BELGIUM AND WATERLOO 208
CRIMEA 250
INDIA 266
ARMS
MUSKETS, ETC. 125
FIELD ARTILLERY 38
SPEARS AND SWORDS 231
THE STORY
OF
THE BRITISH ARMY
CHAPTER I
THE ARMY OF THE PEOPLE--TO 1100
All nations have passed, more or less, through the same stages in
the up-growth of that military system which is as essential to the
political security of the mass as the formation of a police force is
necessary for the protection of the individual in civil life. From the
outset, the history of human existence has been one of combat.
First, in the earliest of primeval days, archaic man had to contend
with mammoth, cave bear, and all the host of extinct mammals primarily
for food, and then for safety when the need for clearing them away
became more and more apparent as population increased. With this
increase in numbers grew also the instinctive hostility between man and
man. The desire for conquest is one of his strongest attributes. The
stronger has always tried to make the weaker subservient; and as time
went on, that desire was accentuated by the wish to possess the women
or slaves--the terms were then synonymous--of the weaker family.
It was no mere poetic statement, therefore, that the head of a
patriarchal household felt safe with a body of stalwart sons, and was
not afraid “to speak with his enemy in the gate.” That old-world text
tells volumes, behind which lie sinister pages and details of family
feud and rapine.
But families segregated together and became tribes; these in their
turn formed clans under a general head, and this led to the further
development of inter-tribal and clannish contest, of which the greater
wars of the present time are the natural outcome.
Still, throughout all this pre-historic or semi-historic time, there
was no organisation of what is called an army. Every able-bodied male
was bound to join in the defence of his poor village or district,
or, on the other hand, to acquiesce in the general desire of a
more courageous or dominant group, and share in the attack on, and
despoiling of, some other group weaker or richer than itself. A king
of men, a stronger soul, a man with more ambition or more boundless
energy than his compeers, carried his fellows, by the divine right of
leadership, to war. Except as a consequence of his greater bravery,
he stood in no one place higher than those he led. The fighting was
individual. There were no tactics; there was no systematic military
organisation. All fought singly, with a view to the common end of
success.
It was only when the character of arms themselves advanced, as
civilisation and greater inter-dependence of peoples increased,
as communication from point to point improved, rendering combined
operations possible, that systematic war began. Even then, there was
much of the personal element in the matter. The known chief planted
his standard, and round it gathered, at first, a mass of subordinate
units, led by their chosen sub-chiefs. But even this was the beginning
of greater things. Organisation, on which the real art of war depends,
had arisen. The chief now directed subordinate commanders, and command
became subdivided. He no longer led only; he directed, in addition to
infusing courage into his men by his personal bravery.
So it has been with the successive races that have fought in those
early days on British soil. The first real military system worthy of
the name was that which brought woad-clad Britons in collision with
the military might of Rome. But wonderful as the Roman organisation
was, it seems to have left but little permanent trace on the people
it had governed and civilised for four hundred years, from the time
of Cæsar’s first landing to that in which Honorius recalled the last
legion from the deserted province of Britannia to assist the main trunk
of the empire. There is little evidence that the Saxons met with any
more valuable opposition than mere courage, an attribute of little
real permanent importance against a foe that had at the least a sort
of military organisation. For that the Saxons had such is clear. They
had learned from the Romans indirectly if not directly; and there is a
distinct trace of Roman influence in the way they arranged a battle.
This applies still more to their fighting organisation after they had
conquered and subdued the effete defenders of Roman Britain, before the
Danes came. Though they, too, had succumbed to the enervating influence
of peace, they had established a genuine system which had in it the
elements of the army as it is, or at least some portion of it. For
the army of Saxon England was, in all essential respects, a militia;
that is to say, a body closely resembling the tribal array, but better
organised. Against these came the Danes, whose methods were those of
the early Saxons; that is to say, tribal leading under renowned chiefs.
But the stronger and more correct principles that underlay the Saxon
organisation triumphed in the end; and the raids of Danish hordes were
beaten in detail, and became absorbed in the Saxon stock, to revivify
and strengthen it. The Roman was an alien, and remained so; but both
Saxon and Dane had the same racial origin, became, finally, part of
the nation they had conquered, and were absorbed by it, to form the
English, when the still stronger tone that Norman soldiers gave--coming
also, be it remembered, from the same group of peoples--had borne fruit.
The story of the Saxon conquest and of the Danish invasion contains few
points of military interest, though that period was the cradle in which
the future army was to be reared. Still there is one battle of that
time which should rank with the decisive battles of the English world,
for it stemmed the tide of Danish success, and led to the amalgamation
of the hostile sides against the next new comer. This turning-point
is the battle of Æscesdune, or Ashdown, fought most probably on the
Berkshire hills.
The Saxon had retained, somewhat, the Roman fighting formation, as
they had utilised Roman villas in Britain, and altered them to suit
Saxon tastes. A spearman--one of the _hastati_, say, of a Roman
legion--required for the free use of his weapons a space of three clear
yards round the spot on which he stood;[1] and it is more than probable
that the later Saxons had adopted some of the Roman methods. The arms
varied little from those in use during the Roman invasion. The spear or
javelin and arrow showed no change; the sword was broad and two-edged,
with a heavy pommel; the favourite Saxon weapon, the axe, was either
double or single, like the Gallic _Francisca_.[2] The body armour and
head armour was of leather, strengthened in some cases with iron, and
the chief defence, the shield, was of wood with bosses or _umbos_
of iron. Their skill with the latter, as tradition tells it, seems
fabulous: it is even stated that Harold, surrounded by ten archers,
was able, his back being protected by a tree, to intercept every shaft
aimed at him. Until later, both antagonists fought mainly on foot.
[Illustration: _OUTLINE MAP of ENGLAND & WALES._]
Turn then again to the battle of Ashdown, and let the Saxon chronicler,
Bishop Asher of Sherborne, tell the story of the last great Saxon
fight, but one, on English soil. The next was to show the descendants
of the combatants at Ashdown united against yet another invader--and
the last. “The Pagans, dividing themselves into two bodies of equal
strength, draw up their lines--for they had there two kings and
several jarls--and they give the central part of the army to the two
kings (Baegsaeg and Halfdene), and the rest to all the jarls (Fraena,
Hareld, and the two Sidrochs). When the Christians perceive this,
they, in the same manner, divide themselves into two bodies, and draw
themselves up with equal diligence. But Alfred comes more speedily
and readily with his men, as we have heard from trustworthy reporters
who saw it, and arrives at the place of battle; for his brother,
Ethelred the king, was still remaining in the tent in prayer, hearing
the Mass, and declaring that he would not depart thence alive before
the priest should end the Mass, nor would desert the divine service
for the human. And he did as he had said, which faith of the Christian
king availed greatly with the Lord, as in the sequel shall be fully
shown. The Christians, therefore, had decreed that Ethelred the king
with his own forces should fight against the two pagan kings; but
Alfred his brother with his companies would know how to try the chance
of war against all the leaders of the pagans. Thus strongly were they
placed on either side when the king was lingering long in prayer, and
the pagans were prepared and had hastened to the place of conflict.
Alfred then being second in command, when he could no longer endure
the ranks of the foe, except he either retreated from the fight, or
dashed forward against the hostile forces before his brother’s arrival,
at last boldly, after the manner of a wild boar, guided the Christian
forces against the foe as had been determined, though still the king
had not come. Thus relying on the guidance of God, and supported by His
help, with the lines drawn up closely, he moves forward the standard
with speed against the enemy. But to those who know not the place it
must be explained that the site of the battle was unequal for the
belligerents, for the pagans had occupied beforehand a higher position;
but the Christians drew up their lines from a lower place. There was
also, in the same place, a single thorn-tree of very small size, which
we ourselves have seen with our own eyes. Around this, therefore, the
hostile armies, all with a great shout, meet together in conflict, the
one acting most wickedly, the other to fight for life and friends and
country. And when they fought for some time, fiercely and very cruelly
on both sides, the pagans, by the divine judgment, could endure the
attack of the Christians no longer; and the chief part of their forces
being slain, they took to flight disgracefully. And in this place one
of the two pagan kings and five jarls were slain; and many thousands
on the pagan side, both in that place and along the whole breadth of
the plain of Æscesdune, where they had been everywhere scattered, were
slain far and wide. For there fell their king Baegsaeg and Jarl Sidroc
the elder and Jarl Sidroc the younger, and Jarl Obsbern, and Jarl
Fraena, and Jarl Hareld; and the whole army of the pagans was put to
flight till the night, and even to the following day, until those who
escaped arrived at the citadel, for the Christians pursued them until
night and overthrew them everywhere.” “Never before or since,” says a
Saxon writer later on, “was ever such slaughter known, since the Saxons
first gained England by their armies.” All the next day the rout was
followed up, until the shattered remnants gained the shelter of their
fort. Whether it was absolutely abandoned by the Danes after their
defeat is doubtful; but it is recorded that fourteen days later Alfred
and Ethelred suffered a reverse at Basing, which shows, at anyrate,
that some portion of the enemy’s forces had retreated to the south.
To meet the last invasion of foreign blood, the Anglo-Saxons had, by
that time, a military organisation which differed but little from the
hosts that William of Normandy brought against Harold the king at
Senlac. There had been much intercommunication between the British
Isles and the mainland. Both armies were armed and equipped in much
the same way. Their leaders wore the same kind of armour, and there
was little to distinguish between them, save that the Norman’s chief
strength was in his cavalry, that of Harold in his infantry. The Bayeux
Tapestry shows both Harold and William clad in the same attire.
The Saxon fighting system at Hastings differed little from that of
the mercenaries of the most varied character that followed the banner
of the Conqueror, except that on Harold’s side there was union of
men, then of the same nationality to a great degree, against a mere
collection of adventurers. As to the political situation there is
little to be said. The true history of the eleventh century is
still, and ever will be, unwritten; the most reliable account is
after all largely, if not entirely, traditional. It is poetical
rather than actual. It is based on “hearsay” rather than fact. Yet,
notwithstanding, before real recorded history was, tradition had to
take its place, and this is what it and legend have to say of that
great conflict which destroyed Saxondom in Britain, and which placed
William the Norman on the English throne as king.
[Illustration: _Battle of Hastings._
_14^{th}. Oct. 1066._]
This, then, is what the fighting seems to have been. Curiously enough,
Harold selected the defensive, as did Wellington, as a rule, seven
hundred and fifty years after, and fought on foot while fortifying
his front with palisades; while the Normans attacked in a series of
lines, much as was done by British troops before the introduction of
the breech-loader led to the abandonment of “linear” tactics. The last
of the Saxon kings had chosen for his stand for crown and kingdom the
hill where Battle is now built; but there was one vast difference
between the opposing leaders. On the one side the Saxons feasted and
made merry, though there is little evidence that Harold made any effort
to rouse the enthusiasm of his men as his adversary did. In the Saxon
camp there was wine and wassail, and in that of William penitence and
prayer. William knew the guiding spirit of the art of war of the time,
the infusing into his host that religious fervour which later on made
Cromwell defeat Royalists as physically brave as his own Ironsides, and
the instilling in their minds confidence in their own powers, which has
been at the base of every English victory since then. The Saxons were
“slow to find out they were beaten”;[3] but the Norman enthusiasm was
raised by the duke’s address on the morning of the fight, in which he
recalled to their minds that the Normans “had won their land in Gaul
with their own swords; how they had given lands to the kings of the
Franks and conquered all their enemies everywhere; while the English
had never been famed in war, the Danes having conquered them and taken
their land whenever they would.”
All this may be fable, and probably is, but what we know of William
tends to show it was likely. Even omens he turned to advantage. He
fell on landing, but, rising with his hands full of English soil, he
exclaimed, “What is the matter? I have thus taken seisin of this land,
and so far as it reaches, by the splendour of God, it is yours and
mine.” He put on his mailed shirt back in front, only to laughingly
exclaim, as he reversed it, “A good sign and a lucky one: a duke shall
this day be turned into a king.”
All this evidences genius for war such as Harold never had. His bravery
is undoubted, but mere bravery counts little against bravery _plus_
skill. So it was that, armed with sword and priest-blessed relics,
protected by the “consecrated” banner of Pope Alexander, and bearing
on his finger a ring set “with one of St. Peter’s hairs,” William went
into battle with not merely an army of sixty thousand men, to whom
success meant profit, but to whom death meant falling in a holy cause,
and to whom the very battle itself was a crusade. Everything was in his
favour, when, singing the battle hymn of Roland, he moved his three
lines against the hill on which Harold’s royal standard was planted.
The details of the battle are of little interest. It was one of
hand-to-hand fighting. “The English axe, in the hand of King Harold,
or any other strong man, cut down the horse and his rider by a single
blow.”
The personal element entered largely, as it did later, into the
contest. The fall of the leader led to the fall of the army. Where
Harold was, where his standard flew, there was the “tactical key” of
the field of battle. True tactics do not depend on the death of the
king, or the capture of so many yards of silk embroidery. But true
tactics, rightly understood, were not in these days.
The duke formed his army in two wings and a centre, each of which seems
to have advanced covered by archers, supported by heavy infantry, and
strengthened by the main arm of battle, then the mailed cavalry. The
left wing, composed of men from Ponthieu, Maine, and Brittany, was led
by Alan; the right, adventurers from Picardy and France, was directed
by Roger de Montgomery; and the centre, comprising the flower of the
Norman host, was commanded by William himself.
The bowmen covered the advance by arrow fire, and seemed to have
produced little effect; but towards the end of the day they, possibly
and apparently from the flanks,[4] poured in a vertical fire, and so
covered, without interfering with, the attack of the main bodies, and
it was from this, in a sense, long-ranged fire that Harold received the
wound that disabled him, caused his death and the ruin of the Saxon
cause.
Whether the statement that William, by a feigned retreat, drew the
Saxons from their entrenchments in pursuit and then turned on them with
success, is true or not, may be open to doubt. Harold’s tactics and his
method of entrenchment all point rather to passive than active defence.
His best armed and best equipped men were in the centre, round his
royal standard, armed with javelin, axe, and sword, and covered close
by the large Saxon shield; on his flanks were the less reliable and
poorly armed “ceorls,” who could not be trusted to meet the main brunt
of battle. It is quite possible, however, that these less disciplined
troops may have been decoyed into a pursuit which was counter attacked
by the cavalry, and thus the flank was turned, and with it the line of
obstacles along the front, whatever they might have been.
Be that as it may, it is most likely that the traditional termination
of the battle is in the main correct, and that William, by his “high
angle” fire of arrows, was able to “search” the ground behind the
stockade, and that the last Saxon king received his death-wound in the
eye from one of these missiles. It would have been better strategy on
his part to have fought a merely rearguard action at Hastings, and,
falling back, have both weakened his adversary by the guards he must
have left on the coast, and increased his own power of resistance
by the aid of the reinforcements that were coming up. So night went
down on the bloody field of Senlac, where Harold lay dead with fifteen
thousand Normans and “threescore thousand Englishmen,” though the
latter statement is, on the face of it, exaggeration. But the fight
had broken the Saxon power, and the Conqueror--as William of Poictiers
says--refused his royal brother burial, swearing “that he guarded
the coast while he was alive, let him thus continue to guard it
after death.” None the less, it is believed he was buried eventually
at Waltham, and William the duke passed on to cross the Thames at
Wallingford, seized London, and become William the king.
With Senlac perished the militia system of the Saxon rulers of England.
The new-comers had brought with them the elements, though not the
completion, of the feudal system that was to follow and be the outcome
of the Norman Conquest. As a matter of fact, the invading army that
William led was only after all a gathering of armed men under leaders
of sorts. Its very origin prevented the full organisation which means
a real or regular army. Mercenaries, men who had never before the
war met the chiefs who were to lead them, in rare cases religious
enthusiasts, who believed that the cause of the Pope and the Normans
was the cause of God, mere soldiers of fortune, who thought from the
fair English land they might obtain fortune even more than fame;--these
were the men who were to break up the Saxon kingdom, still existent
more or less, and were to weld into one homogeneous whole the English
race. Never has the end better justified the means. Never have the
means themselves in 1066 been more ignoble. The Norman host as men had
scarcely a redeeming feature. To count descent from them, is to count
often enough from the meanest social ancestry, though age has made
it venerable and respected. Some of the noblest of English families
trace, or rather claim, descent from men of the lowest origin, who rose
from such a place as that of “Hugo the Dapifer,” to be the rulers of
England and replace Saxon jarls whose descent was more distinct, and
on whom the Norman parvenu looked down. It cannot be too definitely
expressed that to “have come in with the Conquest” is only a confession
that those who use the expression are ignoring the fact that many a
Saxon thane could show a family title far deeper set in the history of
England than any of the men who usurped and trampled on those whose
pedigree went back to the days of Æscesdune, before the soldiers
of fortune of the Duke of Normandy had emerged from their original
obscurity.
[Illustration: _Battle of Hastings_ (_From Bayeux Tapestry_).]
None the less the new invaders were “men,” and had a “man” to govern
them, while William, the king by right of everything that in those days
made kingcraft, ruled.
“Stark was he,” says the English Chronicler, “to men that withstood
him; none dared resist his will. Earls that did aught against his
bidding he cast into bonds; bishops he stripped of their bishopricks
and abbots of their abbacies. But stern as his rule was, it gave peace
unto the land.”
This was William. “Out of the strong cometh forth sweetness,” out of
the horrors that followed the Norman Conquest came the English people,
and, as time went on, that army which has mostly conquered, often
suffered, and generally met disaster with a bold front. And so the new,
or rather the last successful invaders seized the fair isle of Britain,
added their names to old place-names of Celtic or Saxon origin as an
affix, converting, for example, the “town by the water” of Ashton into
“Ashton Tyrrold,” and, holding the richest lands as their own appanage,
raised the massive frowning towers of Norman castles at all important
strategic points throughout the country, marking their conquest as by
a sign-manual that they held the land, as they had gained it, by the
sword.
Notwithstanding that the Norman had many friends in England, it was
long before the whole country was subdued. There was fighting in the
north of England and on the marches of Wales; there was prolonged
resistance by Hereward in the Fenland and central forests, until, in
1071, the “Wake” surrendered, and became the “king’s man.” There was
much still to settle, and William settled them in his own stern way.
So much so that his own often parvenu barons revolted, and for many
a century rebelled against the royal authority, which, backed by the
clergy and English, won in the end. Ralf Guader was quieted in 1074,
and Robert of Bellème, with Robert Mowbray and Prince Robert, were
beaten in 1078. Similarly, when Rufus reigned, the same Robert Mowbray,
with Odo of Bayeux and others, held their castles as rebels until they
were stormed in 1095.
The Celts of both Wales and Scotland proved troublesome, so to hold the
latter frowning Norman castles were erected at each end of the neck
between North Britain and England at Carlisle and Newcastle, while the
former were shut in by a chain of similar fortresses from Cheshire to
the Severn valley, along which hostilities continued for many a year,
to the territorial aggrandisement of the defenders of the “Marches.”
Henry I.’s marriage, uniting the old royal race with the new, much
pacified matters, or at anyrate gave the king still more aid from the
English people as distinct from the Norman barons. Again Robert of
Bellème on the Welsh border revolted, but was driven into exile by the
sovereign: in the claim of Robert to the throne, Englishmen sided with
Henry, and for the first time served abroad to defeat the pretender at
Tenchebrai. But Henry left no male successor, and Matilda his daughter
was distasteful to the barons, who chose Stephen, grandson of the
Conqueror, as king. This created two factions--that of Stephen and that
of Matilda, the first of the great Civil Wars (for now the “English”
counted for much more than heretofore), and the king, unlike his
predecessors, unwisely allowing the barons to build castles on their
own lands, paid for his over-confidence. For Matilda’s party, led first
by the Earl of Gloucester, formed in the west of England, assisted by
David King of Scots in the north. Stephen advanced against the latter,
defeating the former at Northallerton, and after many vicissitudes on
both sides, the war ceased by the retirement of Matilda to Normandy.
So in anarchy and suffering--suffering so great that it was said “that
God and His saints were asleep,” so terrible were the wrongs done in
the land--the Norman power as such ceased to be, and Plantagenet kings
(no longer Norman but English) reigned over the realm for more than
three hundred years.
Out of that time grew up the system of feudal levies, that is, of men
who served as the personal retainers of some baron or overlord, and
who fought therefore no longer as freemen, fighting freely in their
country’s wars. Military service long remained personal rather than
national.
CHAPTER II
THE ARMY OF THE NOBLES--TO 1500
With the rise of feudalism arose a further expansion of the principle
of subdivision of command, though in its earliest days it degraded
fighting to the mere personal prowess of the individual, and tactics as
an art of war consequently made little, if any progress. Armies were
built up much as before, and were still in many respects a species of
militia. The knightly tenure was one of personal service for variable
periods,--generally of about forty days,--during which the knight
received no pay, and beyond which the king or overlord was supposed to
defray the cost, and too frequently didn’t.
Sometimes he compounded for service by a money payment to the king,
which enabled the latter to pay others to do his work; this indirectly
leading to the mercenary soldier, or one who serves for pay. Throughout
all the feudal times armies for foreign service therefore had to be
paid, as campaigns could never be concluded within the period of free
service. Hence they were composed partly of feudal retainers, partly
of forced levies or mercenaries raised by some knight or gentleman,
expert in war, to serve the king at a fixed rate of pay, which was
often higher than that of a day labourer at home, with the prospect of
adventure and booty. There seems to have been little difficulty in thus
raising recruits. The money for this, which was paid in advance, was
raised from the royal revenues, crown funds, fines, or parliamentary
grants. These armies were disbanded, therefore, directly the war ceased.
It is calculated that this system produced a levy of about 60,000
knights and men-at-arms, and the country was divided into areas or
“knights’ fees,” each of which provided one armed man.
The main “arm” in battle was the mailed cavalry, and infantry was
long thought little of; but in England speedily grew up the steady
and trustworthy bowmen, the foundation of that infantry which has
carried the national flag to victory in every part of the world, and
which had no counterpart in those days in foreign armies, such as
France, where the footmen were, till much later, merely armed serfs
or dependants, armed indifferently, and treated with contumely. In
England it was otherwise. There were both greater freedom, and better,
because more independent men. The trust that successive governments
had in the people is best evidenced by the fact that all classes were
armed. As far back as the reign of Henry II. it had been enacted that
every man should possess at least a bow, and it is said that a good
bowman could fire twelve shots a minute at two hundred and forty yards.
Archery and archers were encouraged on the one side of the Channel,
and on the other looked upon with contempt. Nowhere is the difference
between the English and foreign footmen better shown than at Crecy
and Poitiers; and the former is a type of the fighting of the period
immediately before the active employment of gunpowder. The political
events which brought about the battle need not be detailed here: it
will be sufficient to bear in mind that the “Hundred Years’ War” with
France commenced by the claim of Edward III. to the throne of France,
and the corresponding effort on the part of Philip to possess Guienne,
which the King of England held in fief as Duke of Aquitaine, one of
the six “peers of France.” After sundry fruitless expeditions, Edward
landed at St. Vaart on the 11th October, with an army composed of 4000
men-at-arms, 10,000 bowmen, 12,000 Welshmen, and 6000 Irishmen, and one
of his first acts was to bestow on his gallant son, the Black Prince,
the honour of knighthood.[5]
It is interesting to notice how even at this date footmen and infantry
formed an important part of the British army, which, after advancing
almost to the gates of Paris, was compelled to fall back to the coast
for many reasons, among which want of supplies predominated, and
finally, after a brilliant skirmish in crossing the Somme, took up
a position at Crecy-en-Ponthieu--whence, even if defeated, it had a
secure retreat through Flanders--there to give battle to the French.
When day dawned on the 26th August 1346, the battle was formed on the
slopes of the Vallé des Clercs, with the right flank resting on the
village of Crecy, situated _à cheval_ the river Maye, a shallow stream
some ten feet broad. The left flank was protected somewhat by a belt
of trees near Wadicourt, and the position--about a mile long--faced
south-east, and was held in three bodies; the first, on the right,
under the Prince of Wales, with Lords Warwick and Oxford, was composed
of 800 men-at-arms, 1000 Welsh infantry, and 200 archers, with 2000
Welsh and Irish infantry in support;[6] the second, on the left,
commanded by the Earls of Arundel, Northampton, and Willoughby, with
Lords Basset and Ross, contained 800 men of all arms; while in rear
of the right wing was the reserve, 1700 men-at-arms and 2000 archers,
commanded by the king in person.
The baggage was securely packed in a wood in rear of all. Each of the
wings was arranged with archers “formed in the manner of a portcullis
or barrow,” and the men-at-arms dismounted. The king utilised the
steadiness of the dismounted men-at-arms to resist the charge of the
enemy’s cavalry, while shaking and demoralising him in his advance by
fire. It was not unlike the “Battaglia” of the civil war in principle,
which were composed of “pikes” in the mass and “shot” at the angles.
The longbow was no bad weapon as time went. It could range four hundred
yards, was silent, and rapid to shoot, and, like modern smokeless
powder, did not obscure the field of view. There is little doubt that
the real formation was that of a line of men-at-arms, flanked by two
wings of archers, thrown forward, and with a central body of archers
forming a “herse” by the meeting of the inner wings.[7] Cannon, in the
shape of six small pieces slung to a beam, and called “brakes,” were
used for the first time, and both entrenchments and abattis seem to
have been made along the front.
Philip himself, with an army estimated at as much as 120,000 men, was
meanwhile advancing from Abbeville with 15,000 Genoese crossbowmen,
forming an advanced guard, led by Antonio Doria and Carlo Grimaldi,
followed by 4000 men-at-arms and foot soldiers under the Dukes of
Alençon and Flandres, behind which came the remainder of the army in
four lines, under the command of the king. The march was disordered
and confused. “There is no man,” writes Froissart, “unless he had been
present, that can imagine or describe truly the confusion of the day.”
It was a case again of “those behind cried Forward, and those in front
cried Back”; and while the masses surged backward and forward, under
contradictory orders and want of plan, a gathering thunderstorm burst
with peals of heaven’s artillery, and the driving rain lasted long
enough to wet the bowstrings of the crossbowmen and render them of
little use. The superiority of the longbow was fully shown then, for
the English were able to keep the bows cased and the strings dry until
the moment for their use came. And come it did; for the sunshine again
broke through the clouds, and now full in the faces of the French.
Other omens too were there, which in days of superstition helped to
raise the courage of one side and depress that of the other; for over
the French early gathered great flocks of ravens, which “was deemed,”
so writes De Mezeray, “a presage of their defeat.”
When, therefore, the Genoese were ordered to attack, they did little
execution, and under a fire of clothyard shafts so heavy that “it
seemed as if it snowed,” they fell back in panic and disorder. Whether
Edward’s artillery had any real effect is doubtful, but the noise of
the new weapon, probably firing stone shot, may have tended to add
to the _débâcle_, even if the actual loss it caused was small. The
Genoese were between two fires. In front were still the English line,
cool on the defensive, as they have always been; behind was Alençon’s
cavalry, who cared but little--in that chivalric age--for mere men on
foot. “Kill me those scoundrels,” said Philip, “for they block up our
road without any reason. “Truly,” also answered D’Alençon, “a man is
well at ease to be charged with these kind of rascals who are faint,
and fail us now when most at need;” so through the flying men rode the
French knights, whilst over the disordered crowd still fell the heavy
rain of English arrows. To add to the confusion, too, the Irish and
Welsh infantry, though they were of little value apparently otherwise,
joined in the mêlée, to slay with their long knives the dismounted
knights, whether wounded or not, “nor was any quarter given that day by
the victors.”
But when the French cavalry had cleared a way to the English line,
they were a mere crowd, and the Black Prince advanced his line to
counter attack. But there was no lack of bravery in his antagonists.
They fought brilliantly and well, and so far succeeded as to place the
prince’s command in some danger. And while the French knights assailed
the flanks of the English right wing, a sharp attack was made by
some German and Savoyard cavalry which broke through the bowmen, and
even engaged the men-at-arms in rear. To his aid, therefore, pressed
Arundel’s left wing, and soon the French second line also fell back
routed, leaving its chief behind dead. It was too late to retrieve
the disaster, and it is somewhat pitiful to read how at that moment
the poor old blind King of Bohemia turned to those around him to say,
“Sirs, ye are my men, my friends and companions, I require you to lead
me so far forward that I may strike one stroke with my sword.” Verily
there were men in those days, and two knights did not fear to humour
him; so, tying their reins to his, they led him into the thick of the
fight, where, seeking death, the king “struck a stroke with his sword,
yea, and more than four, and fought valiantly, and so did all his
company; but they adventured so far forward that they were all slain,
and the next day were found in the place about the king, with their
horses tied to each other.” His was a valiant death, and though his
son, the King of the Romans, had fled, with him fell the flower of the
French army, the King of Majorca, the Duke of Lorraine, the Count of
Flanders, the Count of Blois, eight other counts, two archbishops, 1200
knights, and 30,000 men. The loss on the English side is not recorded,
but was probably small, and the battle was won chiefly by the fire of
infantry,--in this case, arrow-fire,--as modern battles are mainly
decided by the bullet.
Among the spoil of eighty banners was captured the banner of the King
of Bohemia, charged with three ostrich feathers, and the motto “Ich
Dien,” though the statement that the Black Prince thereupon adopted
them for his crest and motto is probably mythical, as many such stories
are.
Philip seems to have been stunned by the disaster, and long refused
to leave the field. When late that night he reached the castle of La
Broyes, he had with him, of all his armed host, but Sir John Heynault
and five barons. On the other hand, Edward had the joy of embracing his
victorious son, with the words, “Persevere in your honourable career.
You are indeed my son, for valiantly have you acquitted yourself this
day, and shown yourself worthy of empire.”
When the sound of conflict ceased, even Edward did not then know the
magnitude of the victory he had gained. And the night passed without
festivity, while the king himself “made frequent thanksgiving to the
Lord.”
The battle of Crecy is a marked stage in the history of our own army,
for it shows clearly the value of the English infantry of the past,
the importance of infantry fire, and the dawn of the employment of
artillery. But by other nations and in other parts of the world, too,
had the value of resolute infantry been recognised, except in France.
The age of chivalry--so called--had increased, and fostered the use
of body armour. Its very dead weight literally and metaphorically
prevented the growth of tactics. There was no real organisation in
the crusading hosts; they were but gatherings of armed men such as
William led at Hastings, and battles were but a series of incidents
of rivalry between leading or ambitious chiefs. The age of chivalry
was an age of vanity, both of deeds and of iron clothes. Magnificent
was the armour of the knight; magnificent, too, his inordinate desire
to be noticed! These were not the days of personal interviews, daily
papers, or self-advertisement; but Sir Galahad, going from tournament
to tournament to show he was a stronger man, or with a Christian
desire to hurt somebody, did his best in that line none the less! The
Irishman who drags his coat along the ground at a fair--another sort
of tournament--in the hope that somebody will tread on the tail of it,
differs little from the challenger at Ashby de la Zouche. There was the
same human nature at the bottom of both--each was spoiling for a fight!
Still the spirit of the time sensibly increased the military spirit.
To individual prowess was open the tournament where doughty deeds, or
what were considered such, met with immediate reward and encouragement.
No better school for mediæval war ever existed than that in which men
learned to fight under the personal criticism of women. Vanity, pride,
love were all brought to play in these contests, and poetry spread far
and wide through the songs of the troubadour the deeds of the valiant,
the defeats of the weaker--
“Throngs of knights and barons bold,
In weeds of peace high triumph hold,
With store of ladies, whose bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize
Of wit, or arms, while both contend
To win her grace whom all commend.”
War was for long the only career open to men who did not care to
don the cowl of the monk. It, therefore, in the Middle Ages, was
essentially the one pursuit of the gentle born. It tended in a brutal
time to lessen some of the evils of war, which “is a barbarism which
civilisation only intensifies.” “_Væ victis_” was softened by the
feeling that the conquered opponent could be held to ransom and treated
gently. The very training of the knights combined the religious, the
romantic and combatant elements. The right of conferring it from time
to time varied. Before 1102 abbots of the Church had the power to
bestow the golden spurs. Hereward the Wake received his knighthood from
the Abbot of Crowland. But later on, only bishops, princes, or knights
themselves were permitted to bestow the honour, and, with them all,
great care was exercised that the recipient should be worthy thereof.
Considering the value of money in those days, the costs were heavy, the
robes alone amounting to £33. The golden collar of SS. or Esses, part
of the knightly decoration, must have been costly. Its origin is very
doubtful. Whether from “Souveraine,” from “Sanctus Simo Simplicius” (an
eminent Roman lawyer) or in compliment to the Countess of Salisbury,
has not yet been determined.
The knightly duty was laid down with exactness, though probably few
carried out all the wholesome rules in their entirety. “They must learn
from the beginning to labour, run, carry weights, and bear the sun and
dust; to use sparing and rustic food, sometimes to live in the open
air and sometimes in tents; then to practise the use of arms.” The
“true merit of a knight is correctly stated by the Troubadour Arnaud
de Marveil.” It is “to fight well, to conduct a troop well, to do his
exercise well, to be well armed, to ride his horse well, to present
himself with a good grace at courts, and to render himself agreeable
there. Seldom are these qualities in the same person. To unite martial
habits and vigour with the courteous elegancies of polished life, could
not be often accomplished in a half-civilised age.”
His oath declared his duty to be “To defend the Church, to attack
the perfidious, to venerate the priesthood, to repel the injuries
of the poor, to keep the country quiet, and to shed his blood, and
if necessary to lose his life, for his brethren.” But if his duties
were grave, his privileges were great. Knights were freed from all
“gelds” and taxes and from all other services and burthens by Henry
I., in order “that being so alleviated, they may instruct themselves
in the use of horses and arms, and be apt and ready for my service and
the defence of my kingdom.” Salisbury also mentions that knighthood
“rejoices in many immunities and more eminent privileges, and has not
to provide horses, carriages, and other sordid burthens.” Yet another
advantage, of doubtful value perhaps, was that of being rated at a high
value when taken prisoner in war. His ransom, always higher than a less
titled personage, sometimes amounted to ten thousand crowns, but if of
higher value than that, the captor was obliged to surrender him to the
king. Those who were knighted for valour on the field of battle were
empowered to use the square instead of the swallow-tailed pennon, as
knights banneret, and had the privilege of a war-cry. From this came
the mottoes of the modern “coats of arms.”
The history of knighthood is a part, and a very important part too,
of the history of arms. To its institution can be traced many of the
decorations and forms of the arms and armour of the Middle Ages. The
honours it offered were so great and highly prized, that it increased
martial enthusiasm and encouraged military exercises; and the part
taken by women in rewarding the exertions of the knights both in the
tournament and in battle, exercised an enormous influence over the
warlike portion of mankind. Where the prizes were so great, attention
to arms of offence and armour of defence became natural and right. The
chivalric feeling engendered by knighthood and knightly exercises was
not confined to joust and tournament in times of peace. It was a useful
and valuable adjunct to personal bravery in war. “Oh that my lady could
see me now!” said a knight as he successfully led his men to the storm
of a well defended breach. The spirit thus aroused was due to the
knightly customs of the times.
But this “chivalrous” and in a wide sense “cowardly” system was to
receive two rude shocks. The first came from the Swiss mountaineers,
who with the pike grievously routed the gorgeous knighthood of Charles
of Burgundy, and the second from the results of the brain-thought of
the peaceful chemist who rediscovered gunpowder.
That cavalry were useless against determined infantry was a new and
lurid light to the iron-coated feudalist, and led to a considerable
increase of foot-soldiers and the use of the half pike. As the
firearms improved, so the unhappy knight tried to meet the bullet by
thickening his armour of proof, until on foot he was helpless, and
mounted not much better.
[Illustration: _Complete Plate (Circa 1500)._]
Armour, therefore, had much changed since the Conquest, and was still
changing. The Norman knight was chiefly clad in mail, composed at
first of rings sewn side by side on quilted cotton or leather, rings
overlapping (jazerant), scales overlapping (lorica), or square plates
overlapping (tegulated); to be followed by rings set edgewise (as
single mail); and finally regular double mail extending over the head
and entire body. Over the mail coif was worn a conical helmet with a
“nasal” or nose-piece, followed by a cylindrical flat-topped helmet
over the coif; and finally the latter was replaced by a round topped
helmet from which depended a mail cape or _camail_. Similarly as iron
replaced mail for the headpiece, so were knee-pieces, elbow-guards and
neck-guards of plate added. The foot-soldier wore an iron headpiece,
and now and then a back and breast plate, but he was generally badly
provided with defensive armour, and relied on the leather “buff” coat
or clothing of quilted cloth. But the armour from the end of the
fourteenth century to the beginning of the sixteenth century became
more and more massive. At first mixed armour,--mail and plate,--then
plate armour chiefly. In the former period more and more pieces of
iron plate were used to cover weak parts, such as knees, elbows and
shoulders, cuirasses, leg-pieces, thigh-pieces, gorgets (for the
neck), shoes (_sollerettes_), and gauntlets for the hands, appear
successively, until the only mail armour was that hung from the waist
in front, between the plate _cuisses_ that protected the outer part of
the thighs. The helmet or headpiece also became gradually closer, with
a visor that could be opened or closed at will, until it completely
covered the face, so that by the fifteenth century, the whole of the
armour was practically plate. Underneath the armour was generally worn
a leather suit, and over it the “tabard,” which not only bore the
wearer’s coat of arms, but protected him from the sun. Arms remained
much the same--sword, lance and dagger chiefly for the mounted man,
with at times the axe and mill-pick; on foot the two-handed sword,
with halberts and partisans of various types, such as the glaive or
byl, together with sword or dagger. The missile weapons, the longbow
and crossbow, were still common, though giving way slowly but surely to
the firearm; and the former was long more formidable than the latter.
It could be discharged much more quickly, it was less liable to get
out of order, it did not require heavy stores of powder and shot. The
arrow missiles were twofold in character. “Flight” arrows had both
heads and feathers small, and were used for ranges up to two hundred
and forty yards. “Sheaf” arrows were shorter in the shaft, were heavily
feathered and pointed, and were intended for close range. Even when
this ammunition was expended, there was no lack of similar missiles to
be found, either in the bodies of the slain or sticking in the ground.
Moreover, the flight of the clothyard projectile could be directed over
the heads of the men fighting in first line, and reach therefore the
reinforcements hurrying up in rear. Still the firearm slowly gained
ground, and the extensive use of body armour practically lasted until
the end of the sixteenth century, though by that time leg-armour was
generally falling into disuse.
During this same period there was a corresponding growth, in addition
to the increasing appreciation of infantry already referred to, of
permanently organised armies. Their origin as “Free Companies” from
the twelfth to the fourteenth centuries was probably largely due to
the constant state of war and political contests that characterised
the time. A numerous soldiery, disbanded after the termination of
a campaign, were only too eager for further employment, however
hazardous. Their mode of life had destroyed their peaceful instincts,
and so as paid soldiers they served under the banner of any of the
unscrupulous leaders, often of noble birth, that such a condition of
affairs was likely to force to the front. Thus arose the mercenary
soldier, the forerunner of the paid soldier; and from the continuous
training the former perforce received also came the permanently
embodied armies of later days. The system insensibly influenced the
feudal levies, for among them served many others besides knights who
made a profession of arms. Finally, the practical value of a permanent
force was recognised in France, when “Compagnies d’ordonnance” were
raised by paid officers and composed of paid men. So things and matters
went, until the first of the great civil wars brought into the field
English armies that fairly typify the final development of the feudal
system that had been growing up. It differed much from what obtained
elsewhere still. There were but few mercenaries in England, at least
of foreign origin. The native independence of character had produced
a splendid infantry as times were. And with the Wars of the Roses
terminated mediæval tactics and its warfare, as with them finally came
in the dire foe to feudal knight and iron-clad noble, that “villainous
saltpetre” which was to revolutionise war and abolish armour altogether.
So when, on the 13th October 1453, a prince, Edward, was born to the
feeble Henry VI. of Lancaster, the hope Edward of York cherished of
peacefully succeeding to the throne was rudely destroyed. Before him
lay the chance of a long minority under an imperious queen, Margaret
of Anjou, a prospect that pleased neither the duke nor the people.
Many who would have otherwise lived and died peaceful, unwarlike,
citizens sided, half in apprehension, half in sympathy, with the
“White Rose,” a feeling which acquired political importance by the
temporary appointment of the Duke of York as Protector during the
king’s mental feebleness and his son’s minority. “This Richard of York
was a personage to be reckoned with.” And political excitement was soon
followed by a political badge, as in later days the primrose became a
party emblem. In the gardens of the Temple--so tradition has it--the
white and red roses were plucked and worn by the spectators, the
latter by those who followed the reigning house of Lancaster; and from
this small beginning, from this outward and visible sign of internal
disagreement, sprang an internecine contest that lasted for thirty
years, brought about on English soil twelve pitched battles, more than
decimated both branches of the royal family, all the noble houses, and
for savage rancour and hideous cruelty is unequalled in the world’s
history. Yet it is not a war as modern military historians would class
it: there was little method, no “plan of campaign,” worthy the name.
Where “armies”--or rather, bodies of armed men--gathered together,
there a similar body went to fight them like two pugnacious cocks in a
farmyard.
Not that Richard of York began with any certain idea of kingship,
though his son, afterwards to be Edward IV., was less scrupulous.
After the first battle of St. Albans,[8] matters went quite mildly
to begin with. Henry VI. was made prisoner, but was treated with
courtesy, and but for his determined queen, whose influence on his
weak character was as that of Jezebel on Ahab, the end of his reign
may yet have been peace. She was naturally despotic, and a conspiracy
to seize the Yorkist leaders drove them again into open revolt, and
gave them a victory at Blackheath in 1459, but much panic and some
treachery led to the dispersion of the Yorkist soldiery at Ludlow the
next month; to be followed in February 1460 by a complete victory
at Northampton, in which Richard’s son Edward, Earl of March, with
Warwick the Kingmaker, led the hosts of the White Rose, and Henry
became a prisoner once more. This led to a second temporary compromise,
whereby the Yorkists were promised the succession on the death of King
Henry. But it availed little. The war-spirit and the blood feud were
aroused. Wakefield Green witnessed the defeat and death of Richard
of York, and the cruel murder of his twelve-years old son, Edmund of
Rutland, by Lord Clifford. The cruelties of the Lancastrian party, the
systematic pillaging which their soldiery--recruited often from the
ruder North--so often indulged in, alienated the sympathy of the London
men; while the more commercial spirit of Edward of York also tended
to strengthen the party of the White Rose, to keep alive and embitter
the strife, and postpone the long-looked-for peace. The country had
practically subdivided itself into geographical as well as political
factions. The North and Midlands sympathised with Henry, who had there
the support of the landowners, the nobles, and their retainers; the
south more or less with Edward, with whom the great towns, such as
London, Bristol, and Norwich sided. Hence, after the latter had been
proclaimed king, there was still a powerful army of some sixty thousand
Lancastrians at York that had to be dealt with. And dealt with it was,
by the new king and Warwick his Kingmaker, who at Towton won one of
the most decisive and bloody battles during the struggle, and drove
Margaret first to Scotland, and then to exile. Much as her character
may be disliked,--and she was after all only a type of the imperious
feudal “divinely-appointed” ruler,--her dauntless energy and courage
cannot but meet with sympathy. So exile meant with her but _reculer
pour sauter le mieux_, and in France such poor supplies as she could
raise enabled her to make one despairing effort for her son’s sake, and
she landed in Northumberland in 1462; but nothing came of it except
dispersion again and despair. Unhappy queen! unhappy more by her own
faults than aught else. The legal claim of her branch to the kingdom
was never seriously contested. Her method of asserting that claim _was_
contested, and with results fatal to her and her line, together with
fateful results to her people. Commercial Edward was more likely to
develop English handicraft and English trade than pious Henry. As later
the divine right of Tudor, and still more of Stuart, had to give way
to the rising spirit of freedom from autocratic control, whether of
king or pope, so out of the Wars of the Roses began to sprout, from
the soil of feudalism, broken by many a sword, manured by the best of
English blood, the plant of English liberty. Yet one more great contest
between rulers and ruled, and that plant was to spring into full and
vigorous life, of which we now see the matured and widespreading tree.
The nation hardened under the troubles of that stormy time; and,
hardening, grew to stout manhood. In thinking this we see that Margaret
unknowingly helped to make it. For “God fulfils Himself in many ways”;
and by many means, often seemingly of the meanest, do great things
come. Not that Edward was faultless, it was rather the other way. His
private conduct was not beyond reproach; his marriage with Elizabeth
Woodville, and the rise of that lady’s family, alienated many of the
leading nobles, Warwick among the number. So the smouldering embers
of civil war broke out again into flame, and now Margaret had to help
her the mighty power of Warwick, with and by whose direction her next
descent on England was to be made. But this, too, availed nothing.
Though first so successful that Edward fled, later on, he too returned,
but, unlike Margaret, to conquer. For at Barnet the great earl fell,
and with him the last hope of Lancaster.
This remarkable battle is instructive as showing how slow was the
change in tactics during feudal days. There was still the feeling of
personal chieftaincy, so strongly held, that the result of the battle
depended largely on the life of one of its leaders. With the death of
Warwick the battle became a rout, and the feudal retainers fled when
the head of their house fell. Again, to deal with the special political
details which brought about the great fight would be foreign to the
object of this book. The battle of Barnet must be taken as a type of
the progress, such as it was, that had been made in the art of war
since Crecy and Poitiers had been won. It began thus. Edward, after a
five months’ exile, had landed at Ravenspur, and by the time he reached
Nottingham he had raised an army of about ten thousand men, with, it
is said, three hundred Flemings armed with handguns, and apparently
some other artillery. On the other side, the Lancastrians, about equal
in strength, had also some artillery, and had taken up a position on
Gladmore, or Hadley Heath, north of Chipping Barnet, and awaited the
approach of the Yorkists. The night preceding the battle was dark and
gloomy, and the morning broke in heavy mists and rain; notwithstanding
which the troops engaged between four and five o’clock on the morning
of Easter Day, the 14th of April 1471.
[Illustration: _Battle of Barnet (From a M. S. at Ghent)_]
Warwick had at first his artillery on his extreme right, and this fired
through the gloom, but with no effect, as Edward’s right wing did not
extend so far, and was overlapped by the Lancastrians. This army was
commanded by the Earl of Oxford, who led the van, and by the Marquis
of Montagu, who led the second line; the left wing was commanded by
the Duke of Exeter--both wings being largely composed of cavalry.
The extreme left was occupied by archers and pikemen entrenched or
palisaded in a small wood. This probably extended at that time from
Wrotham Park to the column now marking the site of the battle, and near
which tradition says Warwick fell. The centre, consisting of bows and
pikes, was commanded by the Duke of Somerset; and behind this there
appears to have been a reserve under Lord St. John, Sir John Conyers,
and, for a time at least, Warwick himself.
The order of march of the host was with the right wing leading and
the left closing the column of march. On the other side, Edward
from his initial dispositions similarly outflanked the left of his
antagonist, opposite which was the Duke of Gloucester commanding that
wing, and presumably the artillery, if any. The left wing was led by
the Marquis of Hastings; and, as in the Lancastrian army, both wings
were mainly composed of cavalry. In the centre were the Londoners,
infantry armed with bows and bills, and in general reserve was a force
commanded by Edward himself. Some writers speak as if the armies were
formed in three parallel lines, but it would seem that the formation
customary for long after Barnet was that of two wings and a centre.
It is impossible otherwise to account for the curiously isolated and
impulsive attacks on either side by Oxford and Gloucester. Still, it is
practically certain that each of the three bodies into which the army
was divided was more than one line deep. Thus from the outset these
dispositions show a tendency to employ infantry in battle with cavalry
and artillery on the flanks, but the feudal idea still preponderated,
and paramount importance was still attached to the mounted arm, which
on both sides, as in all cavalry actions, simultaneously took the
offensive.
One point, however, is especially noteworthy, and that is, the
appearance of London citizens in Edward’s fighting line. Though not
strong in numbers, they none the less represented the beginning of a
new era, which was to see a citizen soldiery formed of London trained
bands even more important in the next civil war, and which was to find
its climax in the later citizen soldiery, the Volunteer Army of modern
England. The natural result of such a primary disposition of the troops
on either side was that the right wings of both armies, practically
equal in number, gained a temporary success. The battle began by
Oxford’s attack on the wing opposite him, which actually routed it and
dispersed it; but the value of a reserve in the hand of the general
was never more clearly evidenced than when, during Oxford’s absence
and ill-advised, because too prolonged pursuit, Edward launched his
reserve against Warwick’s then exposed flank and the left centre. To
the suddenness of the attack was added the demoralisation caused by
imagined treachery. On that misty Easter morning it was difficult to
distinguish between the badges and banners of one side and the other.
The dress was not a different-coloured uniform, as later on; it had
only the uniforms of iron and steel. A false war-cry was easily raised,
the Oxford banner with a “star” not readily distinguishable from that
of Edward with the “sun.” So that when Oxford returned to the fray, he
fell on his own centre and produced the cry of “Treachery!” which was
always likely to be raised in an army composed of selections from two
factions deadly hostile to one another, and in which the Lancastrians
especially looked with something more than doubt on their new friends,
once the followers of hated York. So that confusion began and spread.
Somerset did little, and soon the centre and right dissolved, and only
on the left assembled round Warwick the relics of the beaten host, and
defended the entrenched wood. Here it was essentially a foot encounter,
with London archers and bills against Lancastrian bows and pikes, aided
by dismounted cavalry and supported by mounted troops, threatening the
flanks and rear. It is said even that Edward’s artillery was brought up
close to aid in destroying the defences; but the defence only delayed
the inevitable end. The battle was lost already, but it wanted yet
one death to make it a type of the death of a system. When Warwick
dismounted of his own will, and after slaying his favourite charger,
so that no retreat should be possible, took up his position with his
friends and personal retainers in the wood at Wrotham, and fell there,
axe in hand, he did something more than destroy the last practical
hope of Lancaster, for with him fell the feudalism of which he was so
magnificent an exemplar. No such man or soldier was ever afterwards
to hold from his own remarkable personality such a position as his.
Cromwell’s resembles it only in his becoming a great and prominent
leader in a civil war. Warwick, and nobles such as he, fought as much
for their order as their king; all succeeding soldiers fought more for
a cause than either.
Meanwhile, Margaret and her son had landed in the West at Plymouth,
to be present at the fatal fight at Tewkesbury where defeat was
followed by the death of her son, whom Edward struck before subservient
attendant lords and stabbed to death, the imprisonment of the queen,
and, later on, the death of Henry VI. in the Tower. Neither he nor all
the house of Lancaster had been able to save his order from decay.
Edward, too, according to his views, had unconsciously aided its
downfall. His death was illumined only by the lurid light of an
ill-spent life. However enthusiastic in bygone years was the following
of the Earl of March, he played the game so badly that with him the
feudal spirit practically disappeared. No son of his succeeded. No
kindly thought clung round the last of the Yorkist line. For he was
practically the last, inasmuch as his son was king but in name, his
brother Richard but a transient star. When on Bosworth field Richard
III. died, with him finished the civil wars of mediæval England and the
feudalism that had accompanied them. In Henry VII., a personality of
no great merit, though he certainly instituted a nucleus of the future
army in raising the “Yeomen of the Guard,” fifty archers strong, was
united the two Roses; and then was born the nation that in the next
civil troubles laid the foundation as far as England is concerned of
modern life, modern armies, and modern war.
Never had a class suffered so severely as that of the nobles in this
prolonged struggle. Many of the royal princes, half of the nobility and
gentry of England, and quite a hundred thousand men had fallen in the
great wars. At Barnet the loss was accentuated by Edward’s own orders.
So many of the leaders of the great houses had been killed, murdered,
or beheaded, that the very decimation of the aristocracy rendered the
growth of the middle class more easy, its fusion with the higher class,
as time went on and wealth increased, more possible. The knighthood of
men of low degree was rare in feudal days; the Tudors were to extend it
to the merchant princes who developed English commerce sword in hand,
and taught foreign nations the prowess of the English race.
[Illustration: _Formation of Lines of Battle at Barnet 14^{th} April
1471._]
But there is also a marked distinction between the conduct of the
battles of the houses of York and Lancaster, and those of the Stuarts
and the Parliament of England in the next civil war. Up to Bosworth,
armies raised at a convenient feudal centre advanced, when “mobilised,”
against another army collected in a similar way at another place
convenient for the faction to which it belonged. They met as soon as
they were ready. They selected no “position for defence,” a primary
tactical law for a weaker force, which by so doing enlisted on its side
the elements afforded by such a selection. This was chiefly due to
the fact that the bulk of each army was still cavalry, but the other
“arms” were increasing in number and value, though still not fully
appreciated by the mounted men.
The two battles of St. Albans and the fight at Barnet fully show this.
In both of the former the combatants met _en plein face_. The one was
making for London, the other stopped him. In the second battle the
Lancastrians tried to check the opponent, and failed in preventing his
advance, both armies in which mounted troops predominated. There was
nothing but a mutual offensive, the system that was at the basis of
feudal tactics, and which crystallised in the personal battle between
knight and knight in the lists. Strategy in its best sense was not,
neither were tactics, for tactics mean the development of a means of
equalising the deficiency of one side in numbers, arms, or morale.
So long as a battle depended on personal prowess, the personal fighting
power, or even the personal domestic influence of a leader, so long
were battles often a mere matter of chance. When Warwick fell, Barnet
was lost. The next civil war changed this: neither the death of
Falkland nor that of Carnarvon at Newbury affected the fight seriously
in one single degree. Finally, as a rule throughout all these days
armies moved in order to subsist, and supply trains were rare. Thus
true strategy was barely in existence yet, but shock tactics in battle
were just beginning to give way to the fire tactics of bow and musket.
As regards supplies in the Wars of the Roses, it must be remembered
that, as in later times, notoriously in the Peninsula, when the armies
had at times to collect the enemy’s shot and bullets, the weapons of
either side were interchangeable.
Doubtless at certain places--castles or fortresses--the actual
munitions were stored. To these the armies must have either
periodically gone to refit, or what answered to convoys, conveying
absolutely necessary warlike stores, must have been formed for the
specific purpose of replenishing the locally exhausted stores. All
that was really required for the purposes of such wars must have been
carried on the persons of the combatants, as seems generally to have
been the case, or even on pack animals or country carts. The state
of the roads and both their poverty and paucity must have rendered
regular organised supply trains impracticable. Similarly as regards
food supplies little could have been carried. Like the French about
1811 and 1812, necessity must have rendered the soldiers hardy and
self-dependent, though of course at the cost of the civil population.
Thus it is said of the French troops in 1811 that they “were trained
to reap the standing corn, and grind it by portable mills into flour;
if green, they mowed it down with equal dexterity for their horses;
if reaped (and hidden away by the inhabitants), they forced it from
the peasants’ place of concealment, by placing the bayonet to their
throats.” And Wellington himself writes, that “the French armies in
Spain have never had any secure communications beyond the ground which
they occupy; and provided the enemy opposed to them is not too strong
for them, they are indifferent in respect to the quarter from which
their operations are directed, or upon which side they carry them on.”
And, later, the French “live by the authorised and regular plunder
of the country if any should remain; they suffer labour, hardships,
and privations every day; they go on without pay, provisions, money,
or anything, but they lose in consequence half their army in every
campaign.” This accounts for the enormous losses of the rank and file
in the early days of the nineteenth century, while the losses in the
fifteenth century, with little or no medical or surgical knowledge for
the aid of sick and wounded, can only be surmised.
History, military history especially, always repeats itself in pointing
out the necessary results of such unsystematically organised systems.
[Illustration: _Half Armour (Circa 1640)._]
CHAPTER III
THE PURITAN HOST
The early part of the seventeenth century saw a considerable alteration
in the armament of the soldiery, and, notwithstanding the increasing
use of gunpowder, body armour long continued to be worn. On it was
lavished the highest skill of the artisan in its workmanship, and
the highest taste of the artist in its decoration by engraving and
inlaying. But the firearm, a matchlock, had, to all intents and
purposes, everywhere superseded the bow, so that even in Elizabeth’s
reign leg-armour was falling into disrepute, and, except in the
corselet or cuirass, was steadily lessening in weight. Buff coats with
sleeves, leather gauntlets, and leather boots were lighter than iron;
just as useful against a sword-cut, and no worse against a shot. What
little armour was left soon became too heavy to wear.
Even James I. thought that the heavy armour of his time was “an
excellent invention, for it not only saved the life of the wearer,
but prevented his hurting anybody else”;[9] while “Dugald Dalgetty”
found the metal thigh-pieces were powerless to stop the bullets of the
firearms used by those who pursued him when he escaped from “that high
and mighty prince,” the Duke of Argyle. To summarise the gradual disuse
of arms from Tudor times to those of Anne, it may be stated that though
body armour and the helmet were long used, the former had become but a
cuirass to which a short skirt of metal was attached. The helmet became
more open; still covering the head, the back of the neck and ears, but
the face was only guarded by a “nasal” (like that of the time of the
Conqueror somewhat), which could be moved up or down, or by a triple
bar attached to the peak, which could be raised bodily like the visor
was. This soon gave way to the mere iron “pot-helmet” without any face
guards; and when this went, the cuirass soon followed. Last of all, the
neck-piece or gorget was worn finally as a mere ornament. For mounted
men the lance disappeared, and the sword, pistol, carbine, or “dragon”
took its place. On foot, as the musket became general, the ammunition
was long carried in a bandolier. But in addition to the firearms, or
“shot,” there were pikemen carrying plain pikes eighteen to twenty-four
inches long, and forming an important part of the infantry.
Naturally, therefore, by degrees the proportion of firearms in the
_battaglia_ (whence comes our modern “battalion”) increased, and the
formation of definite fighting units, such as brigades, by Gustavus
Adolphus, Maurice of Nassau, and others, began to make the force more
capable of direction and control. De Rohan in France, too, devised
regiments on what were then scientific principles. His were composed
of 600 pikes, 600 musketeers, and 240 swordsmen, and, later, cavalry
were placed between these massive battalions. Speaking generally, the
artillery was little moved, and remained stationary during a battle.
The cavalry charged sword in hand or with pistols, and the infantry
received the charge with the pike or partially met it by fire. But with
an improved artillery arose also the necessity for ammunition and other
supply trains from fixed magazines, and hence more careful strategy
based on care for these magazines or “bases of operations,” and regard
for the roads “or lines of communication” leading from them to the
army, influenced the conduct of campaigns; so also did the introduction
of superior organisation.
For food supplies, armies on the move were still dependent on the
good-will of the people, open markets, or plunder. It was long before
the supply of troops formed part of the serious study of the art
of war. There was yet but little change in the method of fighting.
Artillery as an “arm” was not. Rupert thought still that cavalry was
the principal arm and could do anything. Cromwell alone recognised what
trained infantry could be made to do.
It is only here and there that strategical enterprise is apparent,
while the old tactical methods too were changing, but very slowly. Mr.
Ward in his _Animadversions of War_, dated 1639, shows the cavalry
formed five ranks deep, and (as the battles show) an undue dependence
was placed on this arm, though in the early battles it, seriously,
effected little, and was rather a cause of disaster than of victory.
They were armed with firearms of sorts and the sword, the lance of the
Middle Ages having fallen into complete disuse. They were classed as
cuirassiers, arquebusiers, carbineers, and dragoons; but all fought
much the same way, and were, taken altogether, rather mounted infantry
than true cavalry. Each _battaglia_, even as late as 1677, so says Lord
Orrery in his _Act of War_, had still one-third of its number “pikes”;
the remainder, as “shot,” were assembled in groups at the four angles
of the mass of pikes, which were ten ranks deep; but at the beginning
of the Civil War the proportion of pikes to shot was about one-half. No
wonder that the weapon “which never missed fire,” and was sixteen feet
long, for many a year was all-important, and that the heavy arquebus, a
matchlock with a rest which trailed, was long looked on as an adjunct,
not as the primary weapon of the foot-soldier. The weapon was fired by
a slow match, and one common stratagem at night, in retreat, was to
leave these matches attached to the branches of trees in a hedgerow, to
make believe that it was still held after the defenders had actually
fallen back.
The general “order of battle” was two or three lines of these
_battaglia_ (named the “main battle,” the “battle of succour,” and the
“rear battle”) at close intervals, with the cavalry on the flanks, and
the guns dispersed along the front. In the beginning of the battle
small bodies or “forlorn hopes” were pushed to the front to draw the
enemy’s fire, much as the deployment of lines or columns later was
covered by light infantry skirmishers. The guns, immobile, badly
mounted, and badly horsed as they were, were not to be despised as far
as size went. There were “cannon royal” of 8 inches calibre, firing a
63-pound shot, down to “sakers” with 6-pound projectiles, and “bases”
of half a pound, and the range varied from 500 to 1500 yards; and the
“demi-culverin” with a 10-pound shot was a not uncommon field gun. Of
course their rate of fire was slow. There were no cartridges, and the
gun was fired, after being primed, by a linstock with a slow match.
Curiously enough, the first cannons were breech-loaders, and were
simply securely fastened into wooden slabs on low wheels by way of
carriage, and so were capable of very little elevation; but later on
they were furnished with trunnions on which the gun pivoted.
The colours worn by the men seemed to have followed the armorial
bearings of their leaders. Orange, the colour of Essex, was generally
worn by officers; Lord Saye’s men wore blue, Hampden’s green, and so on.
The opposing armies formed opposite one another at about 400 yards
range, and after due consideration one side attacked, and without any
real tactical plan the battle became a series of independent combats,
in which, practically, the last unbroken body remained master of the
field, and called it victory. Still this was a great advance on the
tactics of earlier days. The idea of “tactics” was there, but, like
the Caroline “strategy,” it was of a very feeble description. There
was plenty of bravery, little of the combined effort which “tactics”
implies.
[Illustration: _Artillery._
_Early B.L. Cannon_
_Culverin_
_B.L. Ship Gun, 1545 (Recovered 1836)._
_M.L. Burgundian (without trunnions) 1477._
_M.L. Spanish (with trunnions & dolphins) 1800._
_R.B.L. Field Gun 1896_]
But with the Stuarts had arisen a new power. To loyalty to the head of
the State was to be added reverence for an asserted divine right to
govern, of which little had been said before. With James I. arose the
theory of the divine right of kings. How it came to be that his people,
or a section of them, acquiesced in this assumption,--if they ever
really did,--is one of the unexplained wonders of the time; but that
the idea grew up and grew into full strength when Charles I., the
best, if not the ablest of the Stuarts, was king, is clear.
With him the idea of the personal sacredness of majesty came to a
head, and died with him, as men died for his “idea.” Again another
stage in the army’s growth. Before this brave soldiers had died for
“ideas” in battle; now they were to die for an idea translated, or
crystallised, into a king. Out of this feeling came the men who fought
for the cause and the country as well as the sovereign, and less than
before for the personal duty due to the military chief or leader of a
feudal family or clan. There were several reasons for this alteration
in the causes that made men then join armies. During the Tudor dynasty
there had been a vast extension of foreign trade, with foreign travel,
which opened men’s minds and induced freedom in political thought. The
theological revival which culminated in the Reformation had aroused
a spirit, first of intolerance, and then of a desire for freedom in
religious belief. To the latter a hatred to Roman Catholicism, a dread
of popish interference in secular matters, the example given by the
religious conditions of our great commercial antagonist, Spain, and
the cruelties attributed to the Inquisition, largely contributed. To
the former the increase of commercial wealth, with a corresponding
decrease in the feudal power of the nobles, and a greater dependence
on general taxation to support the Government and foreign wars, lent
their aid. When Charles I. became king, he represented, in person,
these conflicting elements; for though not a Roman Catholic himself, he
was a High Churchman, his wife a Roman Catholic, and to an autocratic
belief in his own divine right he added an untrustworthiness which
was one of the many causes that led to his downfall. “From this
inordinate reverence for the kingly office grew a great evil, for with
a perverseness of reasoning which we name Jesuitical, Charles held
that for the advancement of so holy a cause as that of the king must
ever be, no means, however vile or mean to the common eye, could be in
verity aught but virtuous and true. To this Moloch he sacrificed his
children, as he had previously surrendered his home, his wife, and his
happiness; to this idol he offered up the love of his subjects, the
hope of his house, and the good of his country; for this he became an
outcast, a vagrant, and a prisoner; and when love, friends, and liberty
had been swallowed by the burning fiery furnace, he flung in with them
his honour and his fair fame for ever. It was then no hard matter to
die for the god. Let those only judge him for whom there exists a Truth
so living.”[10]
The coming recrudescence of civil war differed somewhat, therefore, in
its origin from that between the rival houses of York and Lancaster.
In these, political rancour was fostered by great nobles, and armies
were formed on the feudalistic principle of personal servitude to
these chiefs; while on the other side was the trading spirit openly
fostered by Edward the Fourth. The Stuart wars are much more personal
and individual throughout. The men, the rank and file even, fought
with interest in the cause, and--as a rule, not as an exception, as
before--joined either side from feelings of personal predilection.
Hence it was that when the Restoration came, there was less bitter
antagonism between the factions than when Warwick fell at Barnet. Then
the king or queen or the feudal lord decided the measure of slaughter.
In the Stuart wars no such order as that of Edward, before Barnet, “to
give no quarter,” would have been, save in the most exceptional case,
obeyed. It was only when the purely theological animosity was paramount
that needless cruelties followed victory. The Covenanters at Bothwell
Brig were personally hateful to men like Claverhouse, for religious as
well as other reasons; so also the massacres at Drogheda, of which more
anon. Stern repression of the severest kind in such cases was both the
law and custom in those days.
The actual outbreak of hostilities was preceded by minor outbreaks,
which increased the growing antagonism. Ships were lent to France and
used against the Huguenots of Rochelle, and the failure of an attempt
at Cadiz increased the irritation; and when the troops returned from
the Continent, they were not disbanded, as was customary, but billeted
on the population, and martial law was introduced during a time of
peace. Lastly, the efforts of the Star Chamber to raise fresh loans
accorded but little with the English spirit, and the direct tax of
ship-money on inland as well as coastal towns, together with the
attempted arrest of the five members of the House of Commons hostile to
the king’s policy, brought matters to a climax.
Thus the Civil War began, much as in former times, without real
strategy. At first, certainly, there was little or no plan of campaign.
When an army formed, it moved on some point that seemed locally of
value, or to some town or garrison that wanted help. The only broad
principle of a very feeble strategy seems to have been to threaten (or
protect) London, and on the Parliament side to keep free for use the
road from London to the West.
Practically, as in the Wars of the Roses, the political situation
was this. The north part of the Midlands and the west favoured the
Royalists, the east and south the Parliamentarians. But in both cases
there were numerous centres of disaffection in each area, and the
commercial spirit of the great towns and seaports in the south and east
was hostile to the king.
Speaking generally, too, the nobles and gentry favoured the royal
cause, the middle classes that of the Parliament; though of course
there were many exceptions on both sides. The fashionable, worldly, and
gay were with Charles, the serious-minded, austere, and visionary with
the Parliament. But there was more than this: even the “people” found a
recruiting ground, for London trained bands and peaceful traders donned
buff and bandolier to fight in the national cause. As at Barnet, though
now much more so, the commercial class stood side by side with that
which deemed itself, by birth and education, more military.
The gradual introduction of the supply train had introduced the
elements of strategy, though the study was still in its infancy. The
strategical objectives were rather more distinct, but even now there
is little trace of a connected serious strategic plan. The isolated
armies did not yet unite to a definite strategic end; the plan of
campaign was much the same as before, though a little less so. The king
assembled an army at X, the Parliament formed one at Y to beat it. The
main difference is, that in the Wars of the Roses defeat generally
meant dispersion, in this Civil War it meant more or less retreat to
re-form. The art of war was growing up, that was all.
Briefly speaking, the only noteworthy points of military interest are
these which follow; as the most instructive tactical example is that of
the battle of Naseby.
The early campaigns merely tell the usual tale of disconnected
skirmishes and resultless battles. Nominally the Parliament guarded the
capital, their opponents wanted to seize it. But they rarely tried,
and never seriously. In 1643, when Essex was retreating from the
relief of Gloucester, he was intercepted by the king at Newbury, where
strategically and tactically the royal forces were skilfully posted.
But the battle partakes of the nature of chance rather than intent.
Nothing practically came of it; but it showed the Cavaliers that if
infantry stood firm, the most reckless gallantry of cavalry could do
nothing.
In that same year two political steps were taken that led eventually
to serious results. The Parliament allied itself with Scotland, and
increased Cromwell’s innate dislike to that nation; on the other hand,
Charles, to all intents and purposes, allied himself temporarily with
the Irish, and raised the theological hatred of his British foes to
fever heat. But constant war was hardening and teaching Cromwell and
his men, if it taught their opponents nothing. The handling of the
three armies in 1644 was skilful. Throughout the whole contest, too,
the better and steadier pay of the Parliamentary army told; they
plundered less than their harder-up adversaries, and as the rank and
file improved, so did their leaders, when the “self-denying ordinance”
eliminated incompetent soldiers, and handed over the conduct of the
war to those who meant to bring it to a successful issue. The true
professional soldier was being made. The superior and more intelligent
strategy of the end of the campaign of 1646 clearly shows this, and
by the end of the following year hostilities had practically ceased.
[Illustration: _FORMATION OF THE LINES OF BATTLE AT NASEBY_
_14^{th} JUNE 1645_]
Though there was at first much similarity between the conduct of all
the battles, there was an observable improvement on the Parliamentary
side as the years rolled on; and the battle of Naseby is perhaps the
best evidence of the better tactical appreciation of the situation than
that of any early combat. It evidenced how little the Royalists, how
much the Parliamentarians, had learned of the art of war in this the
fourth year since hostilities began.
Of course the armies met haphazard, as such forces must do with little
or no strategic plan; so that when the king’s levies met at Daventry,
it was surprised, when contemplating the relief of Pontefract and
Scarborough, to find itself in touch with the army of Fairfax, which,
abandoning the siege of Oxford, had moved north to engage the royal
army. With it was Cromwell as lieutenant-general of horse. But if the
king was ignorant as to the whereabouts of his adversary, Fairfax was
not. The use of cavalry was being understood; “every step of the army
of the Parliament was guided and guarded by the action of detachments”
of this arm.[11] Ireton watched and threatened the enemy’s retreat on
Market Harborough, and on the evening of the 13th drove the king’s
rearguard out of Naseby, the main body of the army being then south of
Harborough. The next day the very casual and careless reconnaissance
of Rupert’s troopers reported that no hostile bodies were in sight,
and with the false impression that Fairfax was retreating, the royal
army advanced to the attack of an enemy superior in number, more highly
disciplined, and strongly posted on Mill Hill, north-west of the
village of Naseby. The king’s army was in three lines: the first of
four regiments, the second of three regiments, the third of the king’s
and Rupert’s regiments. Lord Astley commanded the infantry (about 5500
men), Rupert the right, and Langdale the left, wing of cavalry, or
“horse,” each about 2500 strong.
The army of the Parliament was thus disposed: right wing, six
regiments of cavalry under Cromwell in three lines, with the right
flank echeloned back. Ireton commanded the cavalry of the left wing,
of five regiments of cavalry and one of dragoons arranged in two
lines, while the latter lined a hedgerow to protect the left flank.
The infantry under Skippon was in two lines: the first, five regiments
strong, the second or reserve, three regiments. The baggage, with a
strong guard of “shot,” was posted in rear of the left flank.
The battle began by the attack of Ireton against the opposing cavalry
“in echelon right in front”; but as this exposed his right flank to the
fire of the infantry squares of the first line, he turned his right
squadrons upon them. In this he was dismounted and wounded. Whether
from this cause, or what not, Rupert routed this wing, pursuing them as
far as Naseby, and then wasting time in attacking the baggage train,
while Ireton’s broken squadrons rallied. This is a perfect example
of the reckless and unskilful way in which the Royalist charges were
always made.
The Royalist first line next advanced, and, breaking Skippon’s left and
centre, forced it back upon the second line or reserve; but by this
time Cromwell’s cavalry had broken that under Langdale, and with a true
appreciation of the situation, had then despatched but two regiments
in careful and guarded pursuit, and turned with the remainder on the
king’s still unbroken centre. This relieved the pressure on Skippon’s
infantry, and these, thereupon, rallied, and in a combined attack broke
the king’s remaining square. The battle was virtually over. Rupert
returned, all too late and all too exhausted to be of service. The king
in person tried to rally and employ the reserve, but the force was
already beaten and demoralised, and the retreat became a disorderly
rout. The prizes of the victors were 5000 prisoners, 8000 arms, and 100
colours; but, most of all, this severe defeat was a death-blow to the
royal cause, and was the last in which Charles I. engaged in person.
One curious result of it was that Lieutenant-General Cromwell himself
reported to the Speaker of the House of Commons “how the good hand of
God” had fought for them.
There was little after Naseby in the year 1648 to disturb the
victorious army of the Parliament. There were sundry small fortresses
and castles to reduce, and these soon fell. To Cromwell was deputed the
task of capturing Devizes, Winchester, and Basing, and the latter is
especially noteworthy for the tenacity with which it was long defended,
and the rapidity of its final fall. The seat of the Marquis of
Winchester, whose motto of “Aimez loyauté” gave the name of “Loyalty”
to his mansion at Basing (to which also “the jubilant Royalists” had
given the name of “Basting” House), was a large and important group of
buildings, consisting of four great square towers linked together by
a wall, and with inner buildings of sorts. The main importance was,
that it closed the Great Western Road, south of the Kennet valley, as
Donnington Castle did on the north bank of that river. It had been
several times attempted during the past four years--first by Sir W.
Waller in 1643, who suffered heavily in his attempt to storm; and other
very partial attempts followed, until Cromwell himself was sent to
settle, once and for all, in whose hands the road by Basingstoke from
London should rest.
So the lieutenant-general laid formal siege to it, and, on the morning
of 14th October 1645, stormed it, and carried it in three-quarters of
an hour. “He had spent much time in prayer,” says Mr. Peters, “the
night before the storm, and was able to write that night to ‘the Hon.
William Lenthall, Speaker of the Common House of Parliament,’ to the
follow-effect: ‘Sir, I thank God I can give a good account of Basing.’”
The marquis and two hundred prisoners were taken, and so speedily was
the capture completed, that there is some reason for the tradition that
the attack was a surprise, and that the garrison were playing cards.
Hence the local saying, “Clubs trumps, as when Basing was taken.”
Here, too, was slain Robison the player, who was mercilessly shot
after the surrender by fanatical Harrison, who shot him through the
head with the wild quotation, “Cursed is he that doeth the work of
the Lord negligently.” The action and the remark evidence, better than
anything else could, the increasing embitterment of the controversy,
and the real, or pretended, religious fervour, or rather rancour, that
accompanied its continuance. That the feeling was honest, however
strained, with many who fought against the king, is undoubted; as
undoubted as the religious fervour of the Jews when “Samuel hewed Agag
in pieces before the Lord”; or when a modern Mohammedan charges home
upon a British square with “Allah” on his dying lips. Incomprehensible
to some, it is a feeling that has to be taken serious account of in the
last great Civil War in England.
So Basing fell. It was “now the twentieth garrison that hath been taken
in the summer by this army; and I believe most of them the answer of
the prayers, and trophies of the faith of some of God’s servants.”
So thought Mr. Peters in that year of grace 1645, and so thought many
who, in the Commons House of Parliament, heard him tell his story of
how Basing fell.
With the death of the king in 1649 came the real beginning of the end.
This is no place to discuss the merit or demerit of a step so serious
that it only finds a partial parallel in the action of Elizabeth
towards Mary of Scotland. But two great results grew out of it: the
proclamation of Charles II. as King of Scotland, and the invitation of
Ormond to Ireland, where also Charles was hailed as the new sovereign.
From this came the last two wars of the Commonwealth, the first of
which was fought in Ireland. There anarchy reigned. Petty war was the
normal condition of the rather more than half-savage clans. There had
been a massacre of Protestants, variously estimated at from forty
thousand to a hundred thousand, under circumstances of the “most
revolting barbarity; ... men, women and children they indiscriminately
murdered, in a manner of which the details recall those of the massacre
of Cawnpore.” This fact must be gravely borne in mind in considering
the English invasion, and must be added to the fierce religious hatred
and the increasingly intense political antagonism which the latest
events had once more brought to the front. There is much to be said for
the bitter revenge taken by the stern Protestant party, which composed
the army sent to destroy the Irish people who had done their utmost to
aid the monarchical cause in the late war.
To the sectaries it was no mere word-painting to say that Papacy was
“Anathema,” and the Pope “Antichrist.” To break down the “carved
images” was infinitely less a figure of speech in Irish churches than
it was in English fanes. War in Ireland was to them a crusade, a
religious war, a war of creeds as well as people; and the antagonism
of peoples was little less than the antagonism of creeds. So alien
were the Irish deemed, that, long before this, Pigott of Clotheram
disinherited his eldest son merely for marrying an Irishwoman! Often
conquered before, never had this unhappy land been more completely
subdued than now. Yet even with this “curse of Cromwell” came peace
and prosperity. “Districts which had recently been as wild as those
where the first white settlers of Connecticut were contending with the
red men, were in a few years transformed into the likeness of Kent and
Norfolk. New buildings and new roads were everywhere seen.” Rightly or
wrongly, he held that war was not made with rosewater any more than
omelettes without breaking eggs. He may have been, and probably was,
quite conscientious when he wrote: “Truly I believe this bitterness
will save much effusion of blood.”
It is not just to severely condemn Cromwell for his action in Ireland.
He lived in the seventeenth, not the nineteenth century, and acted
according to his lights. His Irish campaigns have been described as
“a series of blood-massacres, the just punishment of atrocious deeds,
or as the fanatical orgie of a tyrant. This was a complete perversion
of fact, and Cromwell’s conduct in Ireland had yet to be judged
impartially by a candid historian and by a competent thinker on war.
No doubt he was a stern and severe conqueror; no doubt they turned
their eyes away from Wexford and Drogheda; no doubt Cromwell and his
avenging host regarded Celtic Papists as accursed idolaters, dripping
with the carnage of 1641, and to be trodden under foot, like the doomed
tribes of Palestine were crushed ‘at the bidding of the Lord’; but
when he set foot in Ireland, he had to deal with a nation in armed
and furious revolt, which had a country difficult in the extreme to
penetrate. The experiences of previous Irish wars had shown, that under
conditions like these, it was essential to strike hard at once, and the
peculiarities of the Irish climate, fatal in the seventeenth century
to British troops, made it necessary to avoid the inland districts,
and, if possible, to obtain immediate success. These considerations
explained his deeds in Ireland. He was pitiless and inexorable, but
he acted upon a far-sighted policy, and his generalship was bold,
decided, and brilliant. His severity at Drogheda, he told them himself,
was calculated ‘to prevent the effusion of blood.’ Just as Villars
deliberately starved Fribourg, just as the garrison of Pampeluna
would have been put to the sword had it not yielded to the summons of
Wellington.”[12]
Whatever be the criticism of the means he employed, the end was that
all open rebellion had ceased by 1653.
Meanwhile, in Scotland, too, the war-cloud had again burst; and though
Fairfax resigned rather than invade that country, Cromwell either had
less scruples, or was more firmly determined to put down all armed
insurrection to the Republic, and assumed command of a fresh army of
the North.
But the actions were, except that at Dunbar, disconnected and
inconclusive. There were the usual small affairs, minor sieges and
operations in an exceptionally difficult country. Whether Cromwell
wilfully left the doorway into England open or not is doubtful, though
Colonel Walford is of opinion he did; but be that as it may, the Scotch
army fell into a trap, marched into England as far as Worcester, and
there met what Cromwell and his party thought the crowning mercy of
defeat. His army had marched to that victory for twenty-four days, and
had covered in that time 350 miles.
Thus in Scotland, as in Ireland, the stern discipline of Cromwell’s
army, though the religious feeling was in this case more or less
common to both, prevailed when the time came. Notwithstanding the
theoretical, and to a certain extent practical, sympathy which linked
the two nations of Great Britain together, all the wild and undoubted
bravery of the Northern Celt availed the royal cause at the end as
little as, or even less than, that of his more emotional brother across
the channel of St. George. But it must be remembered that the racial
antipathy between the two great branches of the inhabitants of Britain
had never been so accentuated, certainly not for half a century, as
that which existed then, and long after, between the Irish and the
British.
What is clear in this last campaign is, that Cromwell had little in
common with those who governed the sister kingdom. “You ken very well,”
said the Lord Chancellor of Scotland in 1645, “that Lieutenant-General
Cromwell is no friend of ours.” He knew this, and his personal and
possibly religious antipathies were therefore in no wise lessened.
But with the general and steady improvement in the systematic conduct
of war that is increasingly apparent as time went on, there is evidence
of an attempt at organising a system of supply; an attempt that, though
in a very sketchy and elementary way, foreshadows the higher strategy
that is more and more noticeable as the eighteenth century grew from
youth to old age.
There is no doubt that in many of the battles the baggage trains were
more considerable than heretofore, and formed an important element
in the operations of the campaign. Instances of their presence, in
sufficient strength to be mentioned in the contemporary accounts, are
shown both in the first battle of Newbury, where they were collected
at Hampstead Park; as also at Naseby, where, far in rear of Mill Hill,
Rupert attacked Fairfax’s baggage train and its guard. Essex, in
his march to Newbury in 1643, complains of the want of food and the
difficulty in foraging, owing to the small amount of supplies they
could carry; and in passing through Aldbourne two ammunition waggons
broke down, and were consequently blown up. Doubtless they were even
then only improvised from private sources, and only the ordinary
vehicles used in the districts where war was being carried on were
employed. Even then, be it remembered, roads were still few and bad,
though probably more numerous and somewhat better than when Barnet was
fought. But firearms and what not had increased the importance of not
being dependent for supplies on what could be locally collected in
towns and villages, or what the soldier could himself carry; and thus
with the need for their replenishment at recognised _bases_, and their
protection before, during, and after a battle, began the true strategy
of modern war. Supply trains, _organised_ supply trains, alone render
an army really mobile and capable of carrying out a connected serious
plan of campaign.
Again, comparing the time that was to come with that at this time
existing, Marmont writes to Berthier in 1812: “I arrived at the
headquarters of the north in January last: I did not find a grain
of corn in the magazine; nothing anywhere but debts; and a real or
fictitious scarcity, the natural result of the absurd system of
administration which has been adopted. Provisions for each day’s
consumption could only be obtained with arms in our hands. There is
a wide difference between that state and the possession of magazines
which can enable an army to move;” and later on: “The army of Portugal
at this season is incapable of acting, and if it advanced beyond the
frontier, it would be forced to return after a few days, having lost
all its horses. The Emperor has ordered great works at Salamanca; he
appears to forget that we have neither provisions to feed the workmen
nor money to pay them, and that we are in every sense on the verge of
starvation.”
What was true in Spain in 1812 must have been infinitely more so in
1644. The country was not rich in any way, and the armies were, for
a poor country, considerable. But another step forward in the art of
war is faintly indicated in the greater mobility, because more regular
attention to supply, that characterises the armies of the Civil War as
compared with those of York and Lancaster.
Thus the great Civil War terminated in a considerable change both in
the tactical and strategical condition of the army. It left behind
a true “army of the people,” such as England had never seen before,
and probably will never see again. If in previous wars the mass had
followed the lead of the few, in the middle of the seventeenth century
the Civil War had affected the mass and not the few only. There was
a greater feeling of individualism; and, unlike previous armies,
either of feudalism or of Saxondom, which was essentially more or less
the compulsory service of a militia, it was a force recruited by a
voluntary system. But this was of two kinds.
The soldiers of the king were essentially volunteers, serving very
largely without pay, or even contributing to the royal military chest;
those of his opponent were also voluntarily enlisted, but received pay
from the resources of the State, over which Parliament had the chief
control.
At first, therefore, the former afforded far the best fighting
material. They were largely--and entirely, as far as their leaders
were concerned--gentlemen and men accustomed to the use of arms, but
there they remained, and showed little aptitude of infusing into their
natural martial ardour the stern and necessary tonic of discipline.
On the other hand, the early armies of the Parliament were “hirelings
whom want and idleness had reduced to enlist.” Even Hampden’s regiment,
one of the best of any, was described by Cromwell as a “mere rabble
of tapsters and serving-men out of place.” No one saw this more than
Cromwell, and it is that instinct which makes him stand out among the
leaders of the Civil War. No one more fully recognised than he that
“you must get men of spirit: of a spirit that is likely to go on as
far as gentlemen will go, or else I am sure you will be beaten still.”
The metal might be there, but it wanted tempering, and the opportunity
for this the “self-denying ordinance” gave. By means of this the army
was purged of all its weaker parts. As Cromwell had organised his own
special regiment, so did he infuse into the rest of the force some
of the stern enthusiasm that made his Ironsides “very devils”[13] in
battle, fearless and fearful factors in the fight. They “prospered
because they were much in prayer and reading Scripture, an exercise
that till of late soldiers have used but little.” They “were constant,
conscientious, sober, strict, and thus conquered much upon the vanity
and looseness of the enemy. Men fought on principle as well as for pay;
they were little mutinous in disputing commands, fair in their marches,
to friends merciful in battle, and in success to their enemies.”
Finally their commissioners were “wise, provident, active, faithful in
providing ammunition, arms, recruits, of men’s clothes, and that family
must needs strive that hath good stewards.” It was inured to war,
therefore, by a series of campaigns in which strategical as well as
tactical conditions were beginning to be foreshadowed. Its organisation
was more complete and thorough than heretofore, its men were imbued
with the stern religious enthusiasm which has ever rendered such armies
dangerous. It knew its strength and had gauged it by its continued
success; what it had had to do had been God-directed (so its leaders
and rank and file thought, or professed to think), and bore the imprint
of immediate divine direction.
Thus it was, when the great Protector died, that the army he left was
probably the most formidable body of armed men the world had ever seen.
Socially and morally, pecuniarily and theologically, it was peculiar.
“The pay of the private soldier was much above the wages earned by
the great body of the people,[14] and if he distinguished himself by
intelligence and courage, he might hope to attain high commands. The
ranks were accordingly composed of persons superior in station and
education to the multitude. These persons, sober, moral, diligent,
and accustomed to reflect, had been induced to take up arms, not by
the pressure of want, not by the love of novelty and licence, not by
the arts of recruiting officers, but by religious and political zeal,
mingled with the desire of distinction and promotion. The boast of the
soldiers, as we find it recorded in their solemn resolutions, was, that
they had not been forced into the service, nor had enlisted chiefly
for the sake of lucre, that they were no janissaries, but free-born
Englishmen, who had, of their own accord, put their lives in jeopardy
for the liberties and religion of England, and whose right and duty it
was to watch over the welfare of the nation which they had saved.”[15]
Such a body was none the less a distinct menace to the State it had
armed itself to protect. So strong an engine for defence against the
tyranny of monarchy was equally a possible engine of oppression to the
rest of the body politic in the hands of an autocratic or incapable
ruler.
It had compelled Richard Cromwell to dissolve Parliament, and by “this
act left the people at the mercy of an irresponsible authority, and
without representation or means of appeal.”
It is curious to see, therefore, how the first voluntary national army,
long embodied, produced an antagonism, among the mass of the people,
to standing armies altogether, a feeling which lasts even until now in
theory, if not in fact.
When Charles II. entered London in triumph, the sombre Ironside
soldiery must have felt their reign was over. If _they_ did not, the
people did. For with the “Happy Restoration” of the monarchy, the dread
of a military supremacy, whether of king or dictator, was strong enough
to decree that the army of the Commonwealth should be totally disbanded.
So, for a short time at least, the army ceased to be. Its men soberly
disappeared as a mass into private life; but so good was its warlike
material, that “the Royalists themselves confessed that in every
department of honest industry, the discarded warriors prospered beyond
other men, that none was charged with any theft or robbery, that
none was heard to ask an alms, and that if a baker, a mason, or a
waggoner attracted notice by his diligence and sobriety, he was in all
probability one of Oliver’s old soldiers.”[15]
Of the royal force there is nothing to be said, except that in
displaying the national bravery they added nothing to the military
knowledge and strength of the country when the sword was sheathed.
It is not from them, but from their stern, more resolute, and better
trained adversaries that we have to look for the germs of the future
army of the State. After the war in 1652, the total force of the
Protector’s army was 31,519 men in England, and about 20,000 in
Ireland, though during the war it seems to have numbered at the highest
about 80,000 men.
So, till Richard Cromwell disappeared, Great Britain not only
possessed a standing army, but was practically governed by it. To the
very fact that this was so may be directly traced its nearly entire
disappearance; and, curiously enough, to the dread of it, when Charles
II. returned, may be confidently attributed its reluctant restoration
to safeguard the State he ruled.
CHAPTER IV
THE ARMY OF THE KING--TO 1701
Two important results affecting the composition and growth of the
army which, after the Restoration, was to replace that of the
“Commonwealth,” were apparent when Cromwell died. The number of well
and continuously trained soldiers in Great Britain was far larger
than at any previous period, and therefore formed a large nucleus
from which a fresh, freely enlisted body could be recruited. It is
difficult otherwise to account for the brilliant fighting power of the
men who again began to make the name of the English army respected on
the Continent, as in the days of Crecy and Poitiers. Many of those who
fought under William were probably old soldiers of the latter part of
the Civil War; while even those who had not taken an active share in
the campaign of King and Cromwell, must have heard much of the bravery
of their fathers, and of the glory--a feeling rightly common to both
factions--won by the fighting power of those who had so recently passed
away.
Armies, especially during long years of peace, live much upon past
honours and tradition; and that which had now to be formed could not,
if it tried, dissociate itself from the widespread military spirit
that prolonged hostilities had aroused and permanently created. As in
our days the memory of Peninsular victories lives to fan the flame
of military ardour and national courage, so doubtless the “old man
eloquent,” whether Cavalier or Roundhead, was listened to by his
children, or grandchildren, at his knee with interest and wonder, when
he descanted on how Rupert charged at Naseby, or how the trained bands
stood the shock at Newbury.
It is curious to note how rapidly, as far as time goes, active
hostility between the late antagonists died out or simmered down. Nor
is the reason far to seek. The war was unquestionably conscientious
on both sides. Who can think otherwise when the death of Hampden on
the one hand, or of Falkland on the other, is taken into account? The
disease of political disagreement had to be cured by the stern tonic of
cold shot and sharp steel, and both antagonists in their several ways
must have sorrowed over the painful need. Certainly Falkland did. That
the antagonism so speedily ceased to be active, is strongly typical of
the English character. Fight out the battle of opinion if you will,
but when the contest is decided, then let the old friendships resume
their pleasant sway. Thus it was that within one generation many a
reconciliation had been effected, many an old sore healed; and as time
went on, the flowers of a more kindly appreciation of the good that lay
on both sides sprang up over the re-cemented factions, as the flowers
of the summer days had sprung up over the graves of Roundhead and
Cavalier.
Though Parliament had decreed that the army should be entirely
disbanded, and the operation was actually begun, it had calculated
without its host. There were many stern fanatics who viewed their loss
of power with anything but favour. Crack-brained Thomas Venner created
a rising in London of the extremest sect of religious enthusiasts, the
fifth-monarchy men, and proclaimed the reign of “King Jesus.” This
menace to the public peace arrested the total abolition of the army.
Some form of military police was evidently necessary, and therefore a
reluctant permission was given for the formation of a small force for
the “guards and garrisons” of the king. They were to be raised by him,
and paid by him out of the State allowance for the support of the royal
estate, and were not to exceed three thousand men. They consisted of
the Yeomen of the Guard, the Gentlemen-at-Arms (founded by Henry VII.
and Henry VIII. respectively), the Life and Horse Guards or “Oxford
Blues” (so called from its commanding officer, the Earl of Oxford, and
to distinguish them from a Dutch regiment of horse, which was also clad
in blue), and the Coldstream Guards, raised from Monk’s own regiment of
foot. Their duties were to hold the Tower, Portsmouth, etc., and guard
the king’s person; but in addition the “Guard” especially was “employed
as police or thief-takers, patrolling the high roads, suppressing
conventicles, and at the London playhouses keeping the peace.” The
Household Cavalry were at first called “Troops of Life Guards of
Horse,” and the 2nd, or “Queen’s Troop,” wore green facings in honour
of Queen Catherine. But the dread of an army was very slow in dying,
even with so small a force as the king could now command. As soon after
this as 1673, the Commons resolved to grant no more supplies until
secured against Popery, and in 1674 the Commons voted “that any armed
force in the kingdom, excepting the militia, was a grievance.”[16]
In case of foreign war, therefore, armies were hastily levied for
a campaign, and as hastily disbanded when hostilities ceased, and
peace was declared. Thus, after a war, the country was overrun with
discharged soldiers, who were little better than bandits. Roads were
not safe to travel, for highwaymen abounded; and a fresh war was a
relief to both robber and robbed in more ways than one. The licence
of the camp in the days of the later Stuarts (unlike the sobriety of
the “Army of the Saints”) was also not likely to furnish a peaceful
population.
Foreign wars and the constant dread of domestic broils were therefore
gradually wearing down the Parliamentary reluctance to the professional
soldier. The marriage of Charles added the 2nd Queen’s Tangier
Regiment, with its badge of the Paschal Lamb (the badge of the Royal
House of Portugal), the 3rd Buffs (or Holland Regiment, originally
the 4th in order, and so called from its facings), and the 1st Royals
(or Dumbarton’s Regiment), to the permanent Army List; while the
troops recalled from Dunkirk in 1662 became the Grenadier Guards. The
Admiral’s Regiment (so called from the Duke of York, its colonel, the
Lord High Admiral of England, and really the first force of marines)
was created before the Buffs, but soon after was incorporated in the
Guards. The occupation of Tangier had also strengthened the army by
the troop of horse that was the forerunner of the 1st Royal Dragoons,
and by a regiment that, transferred to the East India Company, became
eventually the 103rd Bombay Fusiliers. Thus, by the Peace of Nimeguen,
there had been some twenty thousand men under arms. Finally the militia
had been placed under the lords-lieutenants of counties, to whom was
granted the appointment of the officers.
In these early days, the regiments first paid nominally by the
sovereign were, as time went on, borne on the strength of three
“establishments,” Irish, Scotch, and English, a method of distributing
their cost over the sum granted for the administration respectively
of each of these sections of the State. The first of these appears in
the reign of Edward IV., the second after the union of the Scotch and
English crowns,--before which time officers of the Scottish army had
to take an oath of fealty to the Estates of Scotland, and not to the
sovereign,[17]--and the cost of each establishment slightly varied
in detail. Hence we find in the list of the Scotch Establishment of
1678, the Earl of Mar’s Fusiliers, afterwards the 21st Foot, which was
brought on the English Establishment in 1689, and dates its seniority,
therefore, from that year. The seniority of regiments was ordered by
the royal will, and depended on the date on which they came on the
English Establishment; and thus, though the Coldstream Guards had been
among the first to welcome the Restoration of the king, on the return
of the Grenadiers from Dunkirk, it was decreed that “our own Regiment
of Foot Guards shall be held and esteemed the oldest regiment.”[18]
Each company had at that time a colour, and, in the Guards only, a
company badge, but the Grenadiers seem never to have been wholly armed
with the “grenade,” and the name was only given after Waterloo, where
they had defeated the French Grenadiers. Similarly the “Royal Scots,”
constituted as a regiment in 1633, dates its seniority by order from
1661. Its nickname of “Pontius Pilate’s Bodyguard” is said to have
arisen from a dispute with a French officer, who declared that _his_
regiment had been on duty the night before the Crucifixion; to which
his opponent replied, “Had _we_ been on duty, we should not have
slept on our post.” It is probably the oldest organised regiment in
existence, and is descended lineally from the Scottish Archer-Guard of
the French kings, first raised by Charles III. in the ninth century.
Naturally also the “Irish Establishment” ceased with the Union. Some of
these early regiments were possibly recruited from the London trained
bands, and it is because of this that the Royal Marines, the 3rd
Battalion Grenadier Guards, the Royal London Militia, and the 3rd Buffs
claim the right, shared by no other foot regiment, of marching through
the city with fixed bayonets, drums beating, and colours flying.
At first, too, regiments were known by the name of their colonel; and
the numbers and definite regulations as to the colour and clothing of
regiments were not issued until 1751. Territorial designations were
added to the numbers in 1782, and the present titles were given in 1881.
So that when Charles II. died, the fear of Puritan risings and the
beginning of a foreign policy which the occupation of Tangier had
initiated, and which the war with the Dutch in 1665, and that with
the French three years later, emphasised, led to the permanent
organisation, as regiments, of the Grenadier, Coldstream, and Scots
Fusilier Guards, the 1st Royals, the 2nd Queen’s, and the 3rd Buffs,
with the 1st and 2nd Life Guards and the Horse Guards. The standing
army had thus increased from three thousand to about eight thousand
men. The cavalry regiments were formed of from three to eight troops,
and the foot regiments had twelve companies. Though dressed in
scarlet, the relics of body armour were long retained in the cuirass,
and, with the men, the pot helmet in addition; but the officers wore
plumed hats. The arms of the mounted troops were sword and carbine,
with pistols having barrels fourteen inches long, and throwing a ball
of fourteen to the pound. The infantry carried, some the sixteen-foot
pike, and others a musket of a calibre similar to the pistol, the
cartridges of which were carried in a bandolier. The bandolier was a
leather belt worn over the shoulder, from which depended a series of
small wooden boxes, each containing a charge: the bullets were carried
in a bag, whence the present name of “ball-bag” for the soldier’s
ammunition pouch is derived. Before beginning to load, the bullet was
frequently placed in the mouth.
During this period, too, the bayonet was introduced, but at first was a
simple dagger screwed or stuck in the muzzle of the firelock, and known
as a “plug-bayonet.” It took its name from Bayonne, where it was first
made, and is first mentioned in a British Royal Warrant of 1672 in the
armament of a regiment of dragoons who were to have “the matchlock
musket, a collar of bandoliers, and a bayonet or great knife.”
But perhaps the most noteworthy reminiscence of those days is the
foundation of Chelsea Hospital for old and disabled soldiers, for which
the army has to thank that somewhat notorious lady, Nell Gwynne.
Tradition has it that, struck by the appeal of a beggar who had been
wounded in war, she persuaded her royal lover to found this beneficent
institution, and proved again to the army that women are at the bottom
of most things, whether they be good or bad. As a set-off to this,
the normal impecuniosity of Charles II. had led to the sale of army
commissions, and to the institution of the system of promotion by
purchase, which lasted until 1872.
The accession of James II., and the consequent rebellion of Monmouth
in the interest, nominally, of Protestantism, led to the first serious
increase of the standing army; but again it is curious to note that
Monmouth’s own manifesto at Lyme Regis, where he landed, brings
prominently forward the proposal to have no standing army at all, but
only the militia. This is proof positive, if such were needed, that a
permanent military force, such as it then was, was still unpopular in
England.
There was no fighting worth mentioning in James’s reign save at
Sedgmoor, and there the only noteworthy points are the failure of
the night attack, through faulty and imperfect reconnaissance; and
the fact that Sergeant Weems of the 1st Royals received a gratuity
of £40 for serving the “great guns in an emergency.” The true use of
artillery was not understood, evidently, and the guns were attached
to infantry regiments (as they were later, and singly, to cavalry
squadrons), and James organised an “ordnance regiment” armed with
fusils, for the protection of his artillery, which finally became the
Royal Fusiliers. The only point of interest in the dreary slaughter of
the vanquished after the battle of Sedgmoor, in which the Somersetshire
clown, ill-armed and wounded, showed the greatest gallantry, is the
stern repression exercised by Colonel Kirke of the 2nd Queen’s, whose
regimental badge of the Paschal Lamb acquired an ominous significance
when applied to the cruelties inflicted by his men after the rebels
were defeated. “Kirke’s Lambs,” they were named, in derision, from
their regimental badge. Sedgmoor was the last serious battle fought on
English soil.
But the army had largely increased none the less. The troops at
Tangiers had been recalled. The king dreamed of using the army as a
means of overawing the country, and formed at Hounslow the first camp
of exercise for field manœuvres. But this effort to gain the army’s
support was made in vain. The 12th Regiment grounded its arms _en
masse_ rather than agree to support the repeal of the Test Penal Law;
the cheering of the soldiery at the acquittal of the Seven Bishops was
an unpleasant reminder that they were not with him in sympathy; and
the effort to introduce Irish Catholics in numbers into the purely
Protestant regiments met with the strongest opposition. “No man of
English blood,” says Macaulay, “then regarded the aboriginal Irish as
his countrymen; the very language spoken by the Irish was different
from their own.” No wonder, therefore, that there was friction, such as
found its full expression in the resignation of their commissions by
the colonel and five captains of the 8th Foot--resignations which were
not accepted, the offenders being tried by court martial and cashiered.
It is curious to note that Churchill, afterwards Duke of Marlborough,
thought the sentence inadequate.
So the army as a whole proved but a rotten reed to the second James.
An increase to the standing army, which all feared, an oppressive
use of the billeting law, and an evident desire to employ martial
law, cost him his crown. So that when the Prince of Orange landed in
Tor Bay there was little active opposition. The Dutch troops won the
admiration of the invaded by their discipline, admirable equipment, and
good behaviour; and so, to the tune of what at the time was a popular
air, “Lillibulero bullen a la,” William marched on through Windsor
to London, and became king. Still there was a considerable number of
men in the ranks who were but lukewarm adherents to the Dutch-born
sovereign, and all Ireland was still openly and avowedly hostile. The
army by this time had been increased by six regiments of horse (now
the 1st to the 6th Dragoon Guards): the 1st Royal Dragoons (brought
on the English Establishment in 1683); the 2nd Dragoons (at first on
the Scotch Establishment in 1681); the 3rd and 4th Light Dragoons (now
Hussars); the 4th to the 14th Regiments of the line; the 15th (on the
Scotch Establishment apparently), and the 16th, which was created,
disbanded and re-formed later. The 18th Regiment had been formed in
Ireland before this, out of a number of independent Irish companies,
and was on the Irish Establishment, but did not receive its numerical
seniority until later.
Peace, with such conflicting elements as Irish Romanists, English
Protestants, Scotch Jacobites, and the Dutch elements introduced into
the country, could not be of long duration. The smouldering embers
of civil war broke into a flame both in the West and North. For James
had, with French support, landed in Ireland, and was received with the
greatest enthusiasm; while in Scotland some thousands of Highlanders
were in arms, under Claverhouse, now Viscount Dundee. Against them,
Mackay, with the 21st, the King’s Own Borderers or Edinburgh Regiment,
and the 13th, with some irregulars, was despatched. He met them at
Killiecrankie, where the Highland charge broke the more disciplined
ranks, but the battle, which only lasted two minutes, says an old
writer with obvious exaggeration, was practically terminated by
the death of Dundee. The officers who had then been under arms for
their king retired to France, and, after undergoing the bitterest
privations, were formed into a company of ordinary soldiers under
their own officers. This “gentlemen company” behaved with the utmost
bravery whenever engaged. In 1697 they attacked an island in the Rhine
with such headlong bravery that it still bears the name of “Isle
d’Ecosse,” and the Marquis de Sella signed himself with the cross when
he personally thanked each officer for what he and his men had done.
In these isolated cases of determined courage, not confined to the
English, but displayed equally by the Irish Brigade or by Scottish
regiments serving in foreign armies, the true camaraderie of those who
serve under the “Union Jack” as soldiers, it may be hoped, will always
be found.
The troubles in Ireland were more prolonged and serious, and required a
further addition to the army of the 7th “Horse,” the 6th Dragoons, and
the 7th Dragoons. The 18th, weeded of the Roman Catholic recruits, was
reorganised; and also appeared the 17th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd (raised
by that staunch Protestant the Duke of Norfolk in Wiltshire); and the
23rd (formed by Lord Herbert of Cherbury in Wales with its badge of the
Black Prince, the rising sun, the red dragon, the three feathers, and
the motto _Ich Dien_; it is headed on parade even now by a white goat,
and its marching-past air is the “Men of Harlech”); the 25th (enlisted
eight hundred strong in two hours by Lord Leven for the defence of
Edinburgh, and having for its gallantry afterwards, at Killiecrankie,
the right of “beating up” the town of Edinburgh for recruits without
the “special permission of the provost”); while the 26th, or
Cameronians, was enrolled in one day two hundred strong without any
beat of drum, and was punctiliously careful that their officers should
be “men such as in conscience they could submit to,” and required
besides a chaplain “an elder to each of its twenty companies.” Finally,
the 27th and 28th Regiments were added to the gradually increasing
standing army. This was at the direct instigation and at the direct
appeal of William III.; but the Commons, in agreeing to the proposed
increase, only did so on the condition that it was to be paid by the
State, and not out of the royal purse. It was the beginning of the
Parliamentary recognition of a real standing army paid by taxation. The
24th was also raised in Ireland about the same time, and was therefore
borne on that establishment; as also was the 5th Dragoons.
Many of these regiments served in the Irish campaign in which the
sieges of Londonderry and Enniskillen by James stand out so prominently
on the one side, as do the battles of the Boyne and Aughrim on the
other.
The latter battle was not of long duration, and was decisive. The
combatants were distinguished on the one side by green boughs in
their hats, and the Irish by white paper. The 23rd behaved with great
gallantry, and the spurs of Major Toby Purcell, who led the regiment on
that day, are still preserved by the senior major for the time being.
It is unnecessary to enter fully into the details of the campaign or
its battles; but it may be well to record that of existing regiments,
the 1st, 2nd, 4th, 5th, and 6th of the line, the 1st, 6th, and 7th
among the cavalry, and the 8th, 9th, 12th, 13th, 18th, 20th, 22nd,
23rd, and 27th Regiments of foot fought in the Irish wars, though the
Dutch regiment claimed to have borne the brunt of battle at the Boyne
in 1690, where old Marshal Schomberg fell. But the battle of Aughrim
in 1691 practically completed the conquest of Ireland, and the fall
of Limerick led to the exile of thousands of brave Irishmen, who
preferred service in France to the English yoke, and who formed the
nucleus of that “Irish Brigade” whose gallantry is conspicuous in all
the battle history of that time. In no case is this more conspicuous
than in the defence of Cremona in 1702, where Burke’s and Dillon’s
regiments lost fully one-third of their strength, and by their own
desperate fighting forced Eugene to abandon an assault that at first
seemed likely to be successful. Well might the contemporary poet write
of them--
“News, news in Vienna! King Leopold’s sad.
News, news in St. James’s! King William is mad.
News, news in Versailles! Let the Irish Brigade
Be loyally honoured and royally paid.
News, news in old Ireland! High rises her pride,
And high sounds her wail for the brave who have died,
And deep is her prayer--‘God send I may see
Macdonell and Mahoney fighting for me!’”
So with the continental part of the war with France, in which William
had allied himself with the Netherlands, the Austrian empire, and
others, because of the aggressive and menacing aspect of Louis XIV.,
was resuscitated the renown of the English infantry. At Steinkirke
fought the predecessors of the Horse Guards, the 4th Hussars, the
3rd, 4th, and 6th Dragoons, the Grenadier and Coldstream Guards, the
4th, 6th, 7th, 10th, and 16th Foot, the 19th, 21st, the 1st Royals,
the 25th, and the 26th battalions of the line; and so close was the
action that “in the hedge fighting their fire was generally muzzle to
muzzle, the hedge only separating the combatants.” Ten battalions of
British troops held in check thirty of the French, and one battalion
alone “drove four battalions of the enemy from their cannon.” Here it
was that “Corporal Trim”--really Corporal James Butler--was ridden
down in the retreat, and where he blames Count Solmes: “‘He had saved
five battalions, an please your reverence, every soul of them. There
was Cutts’,’ continued the corporal, clapping the forefinger of his
right hand upon the thumb of his left, and counting round his hand,
‘there was Cutts’, Mackay’s, Angus’s, Graham’s, and Leven’s, all cut
to pieces; and so had the English Life Guards too, had it not been for
some regiments on the right, who marched up boldly to their relief,
and received the enemy’s fire in their faces before any one of their
platoons discharged a musket. They’ll go to heaven for it,’ added Trim.
‘Trim is right,’ said my Uncle Toby.” Landen, too, where were present
the Coldstreams, Scots Guards, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 7th, 16th Foot, etc.,
as well as much cavalry, and Neerwinden, showed the extraordinary
gallantry of the British troops, especially of the 6th Carabineers, and
on that field fell Count Solmes himself, as well as one of the most
gallant of the Irish leaders in the Boyne campaign--Sarsfield, who was
shot, though not at the head of the Irish Brigade he loved so well. It
was one of the bloodiest battles of the time, and the stubborn fighting
of both sides resulted in 20,000 dead being left on the field. The next
summer the soil so fertilised “broke forth into millions of poppies,”
and it seemed as if “the figurative prediction of the Hebrew prophet
was literally accomplished, that the earth was disclosing her blood and
refusing to cover the slain.”
Finally the siege of Namur stands out prominently as the marked success
in the campaign, and gives to one regiment, the 18th, the motto of
“_Virtutis Namurcensis Præmium_.” It lost 297 of all ranks in the final
attack. The regiments present in this famous siege were 1st, 5th,
6th, 7th Dragoon Guards, the 1st, 2nd, and 4th Dragoons, the 4th and
7th Light Dragoons, the 5th, 15th, 18th, and 19th Foot, forming one
division to keep in check the relieving force of Marshal Villeroy. The
other was composed of 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 6th, 16th, and 17th Foot,
to carry out the actual siege operations. The greatest gallantry was
shown throughout by both sides; but the place finally fell, and it is
curious to note the punctiliousness of the soldiers of those days in
that Marshal Boufflers, though all the fortress had been captured save
only the castle, and though Villeroy was powerless to raise the siege,
would not capitulate without an assault. Unnecessary as it was, it was
undertaken, at the cost of 2000 men, and for the first time a great
fortress was surrendered by a French marshal to a British general.
Here it was that Sterne’s “Captain Shandy” was wounded in the groin
before the gate of St. Nicholas. Lord, formerly Colonel, Cutts, of the
regiment that bore his name, and to which another novelistic hero (this
time one of Thackeray’s), in the person of “Count Maximilian Gustavus
Adolphus von Galgenstein,” is presumed to have belonged, behaved with
his usual gallantry; and, says contemporaneous authority, “the bravery
of our infantry was very remarkable, for they forced the enemy from
several posts where they were very well lodged.”
Of this Cutts, the colonel of a regiment of old time, it is said that
“few considerable actions happened in the wars in which he was not,
and hath been wounded in all the actions in which he served”; and
again: “In that bull-dog courage which flinches from no danger, however
terrible, he was unrivalled.” There was no difficulty in finding hardy
volunteers, German, Dutch, and British, to go on a forlorn hope; but
Cutts was the only man who appeared to consider such an expedition as
a party of pleasure. He was so much at his ease in the hottest fire of
the French batteries that his soldiers gave him the honourable name of
“The Salamander.” He was a fighting man of the time; became baronet
first, and was then raised to the peerage, and of him it was written--
“The warlike Cutts the welcome tidings brings,
The true, brave servant of the best of kings--
Cutts, whose known worth no herald need proclaim,
His wounds and his own worth can speak his fame.”
Still, with all that, he had not enough science to make a general.
During this period armour was still gradually being abandoned, though
the cuirass was worn by mounted troops and to some extent by the
officers of the line regiments. The beaver hats of the cavalry were
lined with steel and the legs were protected by heavy jack-boots. The
ranks of the infantry had been reduced to six, and were still further
being lessened in depth. The companies, about 100 strong, still had,
in 1680, 30 pikemen, 60 matchlock men, and 10 men armed with a light
fusil to pick off conspicuous leaders; but three years later the
English Guards were furnished with “snaphaunce” muskets, with flint,
or pyrites, locks, and the bandoliers were replaced by pouches. In
1695, the king directed that the “cap” was to be worn by the Royal and
Scots Fusiliers and the Grenadiers of each regiment. The others wore
the three-cornered hat. The company was by then 60 strong, with only
14 pikemen, and the officers carried pikes, partisans, or half-pikes.
Pikes were not entirely abandoned until about 1705.
The pay of the cavalry soldier was 1s. 6d. per day, out of which he had
to keep his horse; that of the private was but 8d. per day. The cavalry
regiments were organised in four squadrons, much as they are now, and
were being armed with sword and pistol. The artillery alone were only
partly organised as an “arm” of battle, and had made little progress
save in construction from the time of the Civil War; but the necessity
for military engineers had arisen, and Captain Burgh and Lieutenant
Wallace remained “with the forces engaged in the siege of the castle
(of Namur) in the capacity of engineers.”
But the growth of the permanent army had been steady. By the time
Charles II. died, there were about 16,500 men enrolled, of whom about
one-half were now regulars; in 1697 the total home and field army
which has been variously estimated at from 80,000 to 65,000 men,
had been again reduced--this time to what was liberally supposed to
be the number on the English Establishment after Nimeguen, or about
10,000 men; but William’s proposal to permanently increase the army
to 20,000 met with the greatest opposition. An amendment that the
army in England should consist only of 7000 men, and those entirely
British, was carried, and thus the Dutch guards of the king were
disbanded, though apparently there were still some 12,000 men on the
Irish Establishment and about 4000 on the Scotch, while there had been
no objection to voting 15,000 men for the fleet. With this branch of
our national defence there has always been greater liberality and less
suspicion. This at least was mainly, if not entirely, defensive, was
the absolutely necessary protector of our commerce, and could never
have been a serious menace, so men seemed to think, to the peace or
liberties of the realm. The amalgamation of the English and Scotch
Establishments in 1707 had given precedence to the infantry in the case
of the Royal Scots, but had placed the cavalry second, in the case of
the Scots Greys, though they had been raised in 1681.
Still the army had much improved. The introduction of the first Mutiny
Act in 1689, giving Parliamentary authority for officers to punish
men for mutiny and desertion without reference to civil law, a power
hitherto denied to them in Great Britain during peace, still further
recognised the standing army as a constitutional force, besides the
militia, which had been up to that time theoretically the only one;
for it was not permanently paid or embodied. But before King William’s
time the “method of voting men and money for the army annually had been
introduced, to some extent.”
The distinguished gallantry of the men at Landen, Steinkirke, and
Namur had called forth the reluctant admiration of foreign powers,
and had converted this country into a power having Continental as
well as insular interests:--“the English subaltern was inferior to no
subaltern, and the English private soldier to no soldier in courage.”
This criticism speaks for itself.
It is curious to notice how the political centre of gravity had
changed. Before this time English armies had indeed fought Continental
battles, but they were largely those in which only our real or fancied
personal interests were concerned. Now, however, the English flag was
to fly in causes alien to her own personal interests, and valuable only
to the king and the country the king loved. For Holland first of all
was really at the bottom of the “soldier king’s” action in leading the
armies of Great Britain. His interests had always been Continental,
and his personal influence, as well as other less important factors,
was leading this country to assert herself and display her military
value in his own national interest That William had some military
skill is evident, but his action was rather that of a brave soldier
than that of a great commander. By his own often reckless exposure,
he aroused the spirits of his soldiery, and he did not fear to face
danger, as Landen, where his clothes were several times pierced with
bullets, proved. Yet, though apparently respected, he was little liked.
The “asthmatic skeleton” who at Neerwinden “covered the slow retreat
of England” had roused irritation among the officers. Dutch generals
had been forced into high commands for which they showed no special
capacity. Neither Schomberg nor Ginckel in Ireland had displayed marked
ability; and Solmes at Steinkirke had evidenced an incomprehensible
apathy in going to the help of Mackay’s British contingent; while,
after Aughrim, when Ginckel had been raised to the peerage as Earl
of Athlone, the veteran Mackay was left out in the cold. The British
officers felt the incompetency of these foreign leaders, and also in
the above battle that English soldiers had been sacrificed to save the
Dutch Blues. The defeat at Neerwinden cost the army sixty-nine cannon
and sixty standards. So often were Dutch and English colours captured
in these early wars, that the Prince of Condé called King William
the “Upholsterer of Nôtre Dame,” from the number of banners he had
surrendered for the decoration of that building! The two medals for
Landen, or Neerwinden, which the king struck, and which have the title
“Invictissimus Guillemus Mag.,” have little significance, therefore.
The men fought magnificently; the generalship was of no high order on
the Allied side; and the results were meagre.
But if the officers cared little for the Dutch prince, the rank and
file were not likely on their side to feel affection for a sovereign
who introduced flogging into the army and keel-hauling into the navy.
And, lastly, the cost of these wars, which were directly designed for
the defence of Holland, cost this country some £33,000,000 of money and
the establishment of a National Debt.
But Irish disturbance and foreign war had brought to the front the
greatest soldier that this country has produced, and who was to
carry the glory of the British army to the highest point. It was of
Marlborough that, with regard to Ireland, the popular remark was
made that “he had achieved more important results in one month, than
the king’s phlegmatic Dutch friend had done in two campaigns”; it
was of him that Prince Vaudemont, no mean judge, spoke, when he told
the king that “there is something in the Earl of Marlborough that is
inexpressible; for the fire of Kirke, the thought of Lanier, the skill
of Mackay, and the bravery of Colchester seem united in his person;
and I have lost my knowledge of physiognomy, if any subject you have
can ever attain to such military glory as this combination of sublime
perfections must advance him.”
He was not merely a fighting man, he was an educated soldier. His
apprenticeship in France had shown him the value of discipline, and
under William he was able and encouraged to enforce it. But he was
above all a student of the art of war, and so left little to chance,
for he recognised that “war is not a conjectural art,” but a science.
This was the man whom William, on his deathbed, commended to the coming
queen as the fittest man to “conduct her armies or preside over her
councils.” He was head and shoulders above the brave and hard-fighting
Anglo-Dutch king in military genius, without a doubt. But “the weak
point in his position was, that it depended on the personal favour of
a stupid woman. When his wife lost her influence over Queen Anne, his
political antagonists in England found no great difficulty in bringing
about his disgrace.”
CHAPTER V
MARLBOROUGH AND HIS MEN--TO 1714
With the accession of Anne a fresh impetus was given to the national
spirit, and therefore to the army, which was its natural exponent. An
opinion by itself is valueless, but when backed up by threat of force,
must necessarily be listened to. There was much to keep the military
spirit alive, nothing to kill it down. There was a threatening and
ominous war-cloud beyond the Scottish border, which might accumulate
still more, and break with danger to the whole State, so long as there
was a pretender to the throne. There was now a greater amount of
intelligence, both as regards the understanding of what was going on
abroad, as well as at home, among the people; and still greater was the
amount and truthfulness of the news regarding such foreign affairs. The
spread of information as to what British soldiers were doing elsewhere
against the French and others, kept vigorously alive the memory of past
success, whether such was counted from Agincourt by land, or Blake at
sea. There was the beginning of the national principle of Empire, as
compared with the mere cramped vestrydom of home affairs only. A nation
that cares for nothing but such as these is provincial, not national,
in its tastes and views. But enlarged interests produce enlarged ideas.
The increasing necessity for an army was the first unwilling rift in
the old provincial policy of isolation. England was being led, or
forced, or both, to abandon her insular position and to take her place
more actively among the nations, and the consequent need for that
permanent national police, the army, was being slowly, though
still reluctantly, recognised.
[Illustration: _Private 14^{th} Reg^{t}. 1742._]
But ill deeds take long a-dying. It was not yet a century since kings
had tried to crush the freedom of a people, or since an army had taken
the place of personal rule and had threatened another and still worse
form of autocracy; still matters were mending. National poverty--for
the country was then neither populous nor rich--may have had a little
to do with past reluctance to enter the arena of European politics;
and for a long time a natural dread of a despotism of any kind led a
freedom-loving people to refuse supplies that might be used to create
a weapon hostile to their continued liberty. But all strong nations,
not governed by feminine hysteria or led by ill-balanced doctrinaires,
like to feel themselves strong and respected abroad as well as at home.
Blake had already shown the value of such a sentiment, but the time was
hardly yet ripe for the full influence of his work to be felt. It was
possibly but little known, generally, in his lifetime; for information,
in the middle of the seventeenth century, was slow in spreading.
Certainly it had not been fully grasped. But times were changing.
National glory, once tasted, could not be maintained by keeping aloof
from the broader work and interests of the world. The wars of Anne’s
reign, in which Marlborough was the leading spirit, roused the bold
fighting spirit that made the England of the eighteenth century, as the
campaigns of the early part of the nineteenth century have kept that
spirit from decay.
[Illustration: THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH
_From an old print_
]
But, more than this, an Englishman, the greatest of our national
leaders, John Churchill, Earl of Marlborough, Captain-General of
the combined forces in the Netherlands, was not only to take a more
prominent part in the coming war, was not only to enter into a campaign
the theatre of which was to range from the Atlantic to the German
Ocean, but was to command a more distinctly British contingent than
in William’s reign, when British, Dutch, and even Danes fought under
the same flag. And if the causes of the wars of the Dutch prince had
been rather of a personal nature, as before remarked, those which now
led the advisers of Queen Anne to take a vigorous offensive on the
Continent, were to preserve that “Balance of Power in Europe,” which
eventually became one of the special reasons advanced in the Mutiny Act
for the continuous, large standing army in this country. The war was to
check French oppression generally, for Europe’s sake, and to prevent a
single small State from falling into her hands.
“The necessity of war is occasioned by the want of a supreme judge, who
may decide upon the disputes of individuals.... In the failure of any
perfect remedy, however, for the disorder of war, a corrector of its
evils has been found in the system called the Balance of Power. Europe
being divided into many separate states, it has been the established
policy of all, that when any one by its aggrandisement, threatened the
general safety, the rest should unite to defend their independence.
Thus Louis XIV. was checked by England, Holland, and the Empire.”[19]
So the war-clouds again burst, with, on one side, a British, Dutch,
and Austrian army under Marlborough and Prince Eugene, and a force of
Spanish, Bavarians, and French under Tallard on the other; but the
extension of the interest in foreign political war was not now confined
only to the Continent, for seven regiments of infantry were also
despatched to the West Indies, to attempt the capture of the enemy’s
possessions in the Caribbean Sea and elsewhere.
There was much desultory fighting before the great battles whose
names are borne on British colours were fought; for victories at
Schellenburg, Bonn, Huy, etc., earned for the British general a dukedom
before the battles of Blenheim, Ramilies, Oudenarde, and Malplaquet
were fought. Ramilies is remarkable for the fact that, though the
contending forces were nearly equal, of the Allies only twenty-two
battalions were English, and nine Scotch; and that Marlborough, by
recognising that the French left was behind a marsh difficult to
pass, neglected this side and attacked in strength the other flank
with complete success. Here, too, an Irish regiment captured an
English colour, which long hung in the Irish Benedictine Church at
Ypres; and it was at Ramilies that the 25th King’s Own Borderers found
the French had not to halt and fix the “plug” bayonet in the muzzle
before charging, because they had adopted the socketed bayonet. Of the
regiments that fought in these campaigns, the Coldstream Guards were at
Oudenarde and Malplaquet only; the 28th and 29th at Ramilies; but all
four of these great victories are borne on the colours of the 1st, 3rd,
5th, 6th, and 7th Dragoon Guards, the 2nd Dragoons, the 5th Lancers,
the Grenadier Guards, and the 1st, 3rd, 8th, 10th, 15th, 16th, 18th,
21st, 23rd, 24th, 26th, and 37th Regiments of the line.
At Oudenarde there was a slight superiority on the part of the French,
and the battle is noteworthy for the presence and the gallant bearing
of “the Prince Elector of Hanover,” who afterwards, as George II.,
fought at Dettingen. It was essentially an infantry battle, for the
cavalry found little ground for their useful employment, and the
artillery were scarcely engaged at all. The field was contested far
into the darkness, and the French total loss in killed, wounded, and
missing is reported to have amounted to 20,000 men.
Malplaquet ranks as the most sanguinary conflict of the four, and
the loss of life almost exceeded the total of the other three. Among
the distinguished historical names of the combatants is that of the
“Chevalier de St. George,” who, as Marshal Boufflers says in his
despatch, “behaved himself during the whole action with all possible
bravery and vivacity,” and led twelve charges of the Household
troops. Courage was common, therefore, to both aspirants for the
British throne. The loss on both sides was heavy, that on the part of
the Allies has been variously put at between 35,000 and 18,000 men
(Villars); while the French loss was 15,000. Many of the veterans of
these wars lived up to the present century, and one, Henry Francis of
New York, died in 1820, aged 134.
Of all these battles, Blenheim offers the best type of the “order of
battle” of the times. In a story that simply proposes to tell how our
army came to be, and how and why it increased, any detailed reference
to the causes of and even sequence of the successive wars is beyond
its province. It will be sufficient, therefore, to recall to mind that
the campaign in which Blenheim was the distinguishing feature arose,
in the beginning, from the offensive action on the part of Louis XIV.
in supporting the Stuarts, and in the support he gave to the claims of
his grandson Philip to the throne of Spain. The _odium theologicum_ was
also a serious factor in the game. It was the ever recurring battle
between the Catholicism of Rome and that of the other sections of
Christianity antagonistic to the claims of the Romish Church.
It was nominally a coalition against France; at the bottom of it all
was religious antagonism, and this notwithstanding the nature of the
alliance. The Dutch wanted to preserve their frontiers, to protect
their faith. The Imperial army wanted to check French aggression and
support the Austrian candidature to the Spanish throne; while the
alliance of Bavaria with France left the heart of Germany open to these
allies. The defeat of the Emperor would destroy the Austrian hopes,
and therefore the French, under Tallard, moved towards the valley of
the Danube. Hence it was that Marlborough, grasping the situation and
seeing the importance of the defeat of the main Franco-Bavarian army,
decided on concentrating the allied forces in the valley of the Danube,
as Napoleon did later at Ulm.[20]
Thus, after some unimportant tactical and strategical operations,
the opposing armies found themselves approaching each other near the
village of Blenheim, or Blindheim, between Dillingen and Donauwerth, on
the north bank of the great river.
The road between these places is crossed by two streams running into
the Danube. West of the first is Hochstadt, the usual name given
to the battle by foreign writers; on the second, the Nebel, and close
to the Danube, was “Blindheim,” with Unterglauheim, on a marshy space
a short distance up the stream, and midway between the Danube and the
wooded heights in which these small tributary streams rise. Between
the rivulets lie parallel ledges of no great height; but, owing to the
period of the year, the streamlet was practically passable--except
possibly to cavalry and artillery--in most places. West of the Nebel
were the Franco-Bavarians, and Tallard had viewed his front of battle
as reduced to a series of defiles by the nature of the wet ground in
front, and had moreover retired so far from the stream as to leave
plenty of room for an assaulting column to deploy after it had crossed
the comparatively insignificant obstacle. Thinking the centre naturally
strong, Tallard therefore occupied Blenheim, which was strong enough
almost to take care of itself, with twenty-six battalions and twelve
squadrons.
[Illustration: _Formation of the Lines of Battle at Blenheim 13^{th}
August 1704._]
The centre was practically composed of cavalry, eighty squadrons,
and seven battalions. The left was held by Marsin from Oberglauheim
farther up the Nebel to the wooded hill lands in strength with fourteen
battalions (including the Irish Brigade) and thirty-six squadrons. On
the east bank of the rivulet, Marlborough, arriving first, had to wait
for his ally Eugene, and decided on holding or containing the enemy’s
right with Cutts’ hard-fighting regiment; and, waiting for the similar
attack by his ally on the enemy’s left, kept in hand a centre of 8000
cavalry in two lines in front and a force of infantry in second line
behind. His artillery were posted to cover the passage of the stream,
over which extra pontoon bridges had been thrown. So he waited until
Eugene was ready to engage.
This happened about 1 p.m., and the battle on this side was hotly
contested to the end, with varying results; indeed, the Irish Brigade
assailed the infantry of Marlborough’s right centre with serious
results, until checked, and finally Marsin was able to retreat in good
order. Meanwhile, on the other flank, Cutts had been able to “contain”
Blenheim, and then, about 5 p.m., Marlborough’s centre crossed
between the villages of Unter and Oberglauheim, and, supported as far
as possible by guns, vigorously attacked and broke the centre of the
defence, and the battle was practically over. For the separation of
the wings obliged Marsin to fall back on Dillingen; and Blenheim, with
twenty-four battalions and twelve squadrons, was compelled to surrender.
The Allied loss came to about 5000 killed and 8000 wounded. Of the
French, 12,000 were killed and 14,000 made prisoners; while all the
cannon and stores, some 300 colours, the general commanding, and 12,000
officers, were captured.
The “advice to officers,” printed at Perth in 1795, tells a quaint
story of the conduct of the men of the 15th Foot during the battle.
One of the senior officers, who knew he was unpopular because of his
severity with his men, turned round to them before getting under fire,
and confessed he had been to blame, and begged to fall by the hands
of the French, not theirs. “March on, sir,” replied a grenadier; “the
enemy is before us, and we have something else to do than think of you
now.” On the French giving way, the major took off his hat and cried,
“Huzzah, gentlemen!--the day is our own”; and, so saying, he fell dead,
pierced through the brain; whether even then accidentally or otherwise
by some of his own men or by the enemy, will never be known. But the
death of officers by other bullets than those of the enemy is no new
thing, if past stories and tradition be true.
The victory had a twofold aspect. On the one side the political effect
was enormous. It had checked for ever the idea of universal dominion
which may have been in Louis’ mind. More than this, but for it the
whole face of Europe might have been politically altered. Protestantism
might have once more been overridden by Roman Catholicism; Stuarts and
not Guelphs might have reigned in England; the growth of commercial
enterprise and religious freedom might have received a serious check;
and, to quote Alison without fully endorsing his views, it is possible
that “the Colonial Empire of England might have withered away and
perished, as that of Spain has done in the grasp of the Inquisition.
The Anglo-Saxon race would have been arrested in its mission to
overspread the earth and subdue it. The centralised despotism of the
Roman Empire would have been renewed in Continental Europe. The chains
of Romish tyranny, and with them the general infidelity of France
before the Revolution, would have extinguished or prevented thought in
the British Islands.” These are strong views and possibly exaggerated;
but whatever danger might have accrued from French aggression, the
victory of Blenheim effectually stopped it. On the other hand, from a
military standpoint the battle shows a curious change in tactics, which
forms a sort of link with those of the time preceding it and those that
followed. The actual order of battle shows how little, even then, the
true employment of the mounted arms with respect to the infantry was
understood. For example, Tallard had sent, besides a crowd of infantry,
into the confined village space of Blenheim, where the few could check
the many, some twelve dragoon squadrons to be dismounted and fight
on foot. He did not, evidently, understand or grasp the proportion
of footmen necessary for mere passive defence, or the value of the
defensive when the protective nature of the cover afforded by such a
place was taken into account.
Nor was the relative support of the three arms of battle better
understood. If in the past the men-at-arms formed the mainstay of
the attack, so here, with a slight difference, is the same result
apparent. Much as the infantry had improved and come to the front, it
was, apparently, not even now recognised that it was a principal arm
of battle, to which all others are accessory. Then, when the decisive
moment of the day, about 5 p.m., came, the cavalry, some 8000 strong,
were led by the duke himself against the French position. There was
still personal leadership of men rather than the direction of them that
the general showed. “The infantry were in _support_, with intervals
between the battalions, so that the squadrons, if repulsed, might pass
through.” The admixture of the dissimilar arms of infantry and cavalry
in the same fighting line is still curious. Similarly, says General
Kane, “the Gens d’armes ... _began_ the battle by a most furious
charge, and broke through part of the front line” of Cutts’ division.
The probable fact is that the cavalry, being more mobile than the
infantry, whose fighting power depended on the fire-action, which was
necessarily slow, were used for the real attack, as the infantry were
less able to take a vigorous offensive. Besides, the enemy’s centre
was composed chiefly of the mounted arm. The artillery, slow moving
like the infantry, were brought up in _support_ of the more mobile
body. It was only therefore when the ground was hopelessly bad for the
mounted arm, as at Oudenarde and Malplaquet, that the decisive blow was
given by infantry, and then the fight was more prolonged, more bloody,
more stubbornly contested and less resultful. Good as the infantry
was,--so good that “Salamander Cutts” advanced his regiments right up
to the palisades of Blenheim without firing a shot, and he contained
and held therefore in the village the mass of troops that finally had
to surrender there,--it was not the principal arm yet. The infantry
_supported_ the main attack of the cavalry, and completed the victory.
Time was to come when the cavalry were to reverse these tactics, and
complete the success that the infantry had begun.
The proportion of the cavalry to infantry again proves the case;
nowadays it would be absolutely abnormal. Of the 52,000 Allies (9000 of
whom were English), there were 20,000 cavalry. Of the 56,000 French,
8000 were cavalry. It is a stage in the tactical history, and that
is all. The artillery took the preparatory part of the battle, and
practically stopped there. The infantry finished what the cavalry had
begun by Marlborough’s “decisive attack” with his two lines of cavalry;
but the value of artillery to support such an advance and its increased
mobility is foreshadowed by the advance of the guns across the Nebel.
How history repeats itself backwards and forwards! In a war of
pure aggression, with, at its bottom, racial and religious hatred,
Shouvaloff, after the capture of Ismail in 1790, “with bloody hands”
writes his first despatch, and in it says, “Glory to God and the
Empress, Ismail’s ours!” So, in, 1870 Emperor William telegraphs to his
Queen, “Thanks be to God!” Here too, at Blenheim, Marlborough says in
his despatch to Queen Anne: “So with the blessing of God we obtained a
complete victory. We have cut off great numbers of them as well in the
action as in the retreat, besides upwards of thirty squadrons of the
French which I pushed into the Danube.” The assumption that Providence
is on the winning side, or on that of the “big battalions,” is common
throughout the military history of all time.
The victory of Blenheim was certainly most complete. The French were
not defeated only, but routed and dispersed by the central attack, as
Napoleon defeated his adversaries at Austerlitz later on, by a similar
tactical blow. “The best troops in the world had been vanquished,” said
the marshal mournfully; but, replied Marlborough, “I think my own must
be the best in the world, as they have conquered those on whom you
bestow so high an encomium.”
And, says another writer of the time, speaking of the anxious and
dreadful side of war, “A great general--I mean such as the Duke of
Marlborough, weak in his constitution and well stricken in years--would
not undergo those eating cares which must be continually at his heart,
the toils and hardships he must endure, if he has the least spark of
human consideration; I say he could not engage in such a life, if not
for the sake of his Queen, his country, and his honour.”
Meanwhile, other warlike operations had been conducted elsewhere on the
Continent, though their glories and disasters were overshadowed by the
more tremendous conflicts in the northern theatre of war. An allied
Anglo-Dutch force under the Earl of Peterborough had been despatched
to the Spanish Peninsula in support of the claim of Charles III. to
the Spanish throne; and in consequence of the maritime nature of the
operations, battalions for sea service as marines were raised, so to
the three already in existence were added the 30th, 31st, and 32nd
Regiments of the line. The first success was the capture of Barcelona,
in which Colonel Southwell of the 6th Foot distinguished himself, and
where two Marine colonels, Birr and Rodney, disagreed on landing to
such an extent that they thereupon fought in front of the line, and the
latter was wounded unto death. Birr finally commanded the 32nd.
But one of the rare disasters in our military annals befell us in this
campaign at Almanza, where the Guards, the 2nd, 6th, 9th, 11th, 17th,
28th, 33rd, 35th, and 36th Regiments, the 2nd Dragoon Guards, 3rd, 4th,
and 8th Hussars, besides other regiments since disbanded, were present,
and where the new Union Jack, with the two crosses of St. Andrew and
St. George only, was first carried; but the British were heavily
outnumbered by the fifty-two battalions and seventy-six squadrons
of the enemy, led by the Duke of Berwick, the son of James II. and
Arabella Churchill, and were practically dispersed, with the loss of
all their guns, 620 colours, and 10,000 prisoners. To counterbalance
this was the gallant defence of the castle of Alicante, and the
brilliant “affair” of Saragossa, when 30 standards were taken; and the
6th Foot claim the right of wearing their badge of the antelope from
the date of this battle, in which one of the standards taken by them
bore that emblem.
Meanwhile, Marlborough retired to France after the treaty of Utrecht,
to return when George I. ascended the throne, as Captain-General and
Commander-in-Chief of the Forces, Colonel of the 1st Foot Guards, and
Master of the Ordnance. But he did not survive the receipt of his
new honours and return to power long. He died in 1722, at the age of
seventy-three years, and a grateful nation interred him in Westminster
Abbey.
Whatever estimate may be formed as to the private character of
Churchill, there can be but one opinion as to his military career.
Few great generals have had a more difficult task to perform than he,
hampered as he was by alliances which often prevented his carrying to
its full end the instincts and direction of his military genius. He
was, besides being a skilful and scientific general, a brave man, and a
leader of men. He never lost a battle or a siege. His recognition of
the enemy’s weakness in the centre at Blenheim is only equalled by the
similar penetration that Napoleon displayed at Austerlitz, and which
proved once more that piercing the centre, if possible and successful,
necessarily involves the temporary dispersion of the defeated army. His
quick eye for “ground” is equally shown in his grasping the weakness
of the French defensive position at Ramilies, and his seeing that the
enemy’s left, being powerless for rapid offence, could be checked and
held in place, while the weight of the rest of his army was thrown
against the other wing.
His personal bravery at the same battle nearly cost him his life; and
it is curious to read of the general commanding himself leading a
charge in person, and fighting like a trooper, sword in hand.
But this and his personal care for and interest in his men was the
secret of his power of leadership. He himself inspected his line before
a battle, and his calm presence imparted a courage and confidence that
all soldiers understand. His cheerful and cheering “Be steady and go
on--keep up your fire, and the enemy will soon be dispersed,” accounts
for much of the feeling that the rank and file felt for “Corporal
John,” the affectionate title the men applied to him, as French
soldiers did that of “le petit Caporal” to the equally great soldier
of the next century. The ballad-writer of about 1711 fully emphasises
this:--
“Don’t talk of Schomberg and such to me;
Noll and King William they might be queer
To deal with, but he’d have beat them all three,
Lord! as easy as I’m taking off this beer.
All along I was with him, and I should know,
And I tell you, my boys, the sun never shone
On one that has led a charge here below
That was fit to be named with Corporal John.
* * * * *
Then May good luck and Ramilies brought,
At Ottomond’s tomb, by the red Mehaigne,
To slaughter our corporal, Villeroi thought,
But the French and their marshal we thrashed again.
Eighty standards and every gun
Our corporal took that glorious day,
And with it the whole of Brabant we won,
And Louis from Flanders, he slunk away.
Oh, Corporal John always fought to beat;
He was the one who could reckon upon;
There was glory and plunder, but never retreat,
For all who fought under Corporal John.”
He believed in his men, and was careful of them as far as such was
possible. He believed that “with 10,000 well-fed Englishmen, 10,000
half-starved Scotchmen, and 10,000 Irishmen charged with usquebaugh, he
could march from Boulogne to Bayonne in spite of Le Grand Monarque.”
And, true Englishman, he was “always of opinion that English horses, as
well as English men, were better than could be had anywhere else.”
And while a strict disciplinarian (an absolute necessity with the
very rough material he had to command) he allowed no severe court
martial punishment to be carried into effect without his knowledge and
confirmation. Men were kept sufficiently employed, when in camp and
not actively engaged, to prevent liberty degenerating into licence. He
was no advocate, apparently, for night marching, thinking that three
hours of sound sleep _before_ midnight were all-important. After that,
it did not matter how early the reveillé was sounded. And, lastly,
it is curious to read of a fighting man of the early part of the
eighteenth century, when morals were not at their highest, and of one
the private side of whose character is, to say the least, questionable,
taking special care of the theological element of governance. His
chaplains were intended to do their duty, and did it. He rarely, if
ever, went into action without going to prayers first! At least, so
it is said. He has much in common with Napoleon. Both as soldiers
stand preeminent; both in their private capacities show weaknesses
that are little removed from criminal. But in thus judging the great
duke, every allowance must be made for the times in which he lived,
and the corruption that was so common as to be almost excusable. But
whether his hands were clean or not, whether his conscience was pure
or otherwise, whether he was really loyal or disloyal to the sovereign
he, militarily, served so well, now all these things may be forgotten,
and only the fact that he raised the name of the English army to
the highest pitch of glory, and laid the foundation of our present
respected position both by land and sea, need be remembered by this
generation.
With the peace of Utrecht the great war for a time came to an end, and
the army of 200,000 men was reduced to 8000 in Great Britain and 11,000
in the Plantations and elsewhere. All this, be it remembered, with the
remembrance of the victories of Blenheim and Ramilies still ringing
in the nation’s ears. But people began slowly, though still with
reluctance, to desire that the army should go to war strong, even if,
after the sound of battle had ceased, the Government reduced it to a
mere cipher of its former battle strength. Yet, though a cipher, it was
still one of larger value after each campaign than it was before.
When, therefore, a German-speaking king, George I., ascended the
throne, the standing army had permanently grown.
There were, besides the Life and Horse Guards, the seven Dragoon
Guards Regiments, the light regiments up to the 8th Light Dragoons (of
which the 7th, formed from troops of the “Greys” and Royal Dragoons,
was disbanded in 1713, but restored in 1715), and up to the 39th Foot
inclusive; and of these the 30th, 31st and 32nd, as Sanderson’s,
Villiers’ and Fox’s Marines, had been raised for sea service before
coming on the army’s strength. It cannot be too often pointed out
that the regiments were formed and disbanded more or less after every
war, and that consequently many rank their seniority from their first
creation.
The arms had little changed. The cuirass for cavalry was abandoned in
1702 and restored temporarily in 1707. The socketed bayonet had been
introduced, and Blenheim was the first _great_ battle in which the
pike had been replaced by the new weapon. Sergeants still carried the
halberd, which was succeeded as time went on by the lighter pike or
“spontoon,” which remained in the service until after the Peninsular
war, and which was carried by the “covering sergeant,” who protected or
“covered” his captain with the weapon while his superior directed the
work of the company.
The colours, formerly three in number, had by this time been reduced
to two, the one the Union “Jack,” the other the Regimental Colour, the
ground of which was that of the regimental facings.
Doubtless the political feeling of expediency and the want of a larger
revenue had still much to do with these continuous and expensive
reductions, even more than the decaying dread of standing armies. They
were expensive as involving greater expenditure when war broke out
afresh, as it was likely to do. They cost the internal economy of the
State much, from the difficulty of finding employment for the vast
numbers of disbanded soldiery after a campaign. Politicians of the time
were too narrow-minded to see that it costs less to be always prepared
for war in peace rather than wait for the warlike necessity to arise.
They were “penny wise and pound foolish” then, much as we are to-day.
Taxpayers and Governments are proverbially slow to recognise this. The
greater the national wealth, the more need for the national insurance.
That means an army and a navy sufficient for that insurance.
CHAPTER VI
THE EMBERS OF THE CIVIL WAR--TO 1755
The method of raising the army from the early part of the eighteenth
century until nearly its end had been by a curious system of contract.
Recruiting at first was mainly voluntary; but paupers or prisoners for
civil offences were given the option of serving in the ranks. Hence was
it that the armies that “swore so horribly in Flanders” got the bad
name that clung to the profession of arms in Great Britain until recent
years. The class of recruits, the severity of punishment, and the
degradation of the lash were the three main reasons why, in the opinion
of many worthy country people, to become a soldier was to be lost!
“Sergeant Kite’s” statement in the _Recruiting Officer_[21] is, though
coarse, a not much exaggerated picture of what was _thought_ of the
soldier, though it can never assuredly be applied to all who wore the
uniform. He says: “I was born a gipsy, and bred among that crew till I
was ten years of age; there I learned canting and lying. I was bought
from my mother Cleopatra by a certain nobleman for three pistoles,
who, liking my beauty, made me his page; there I learned impudence and
pimping. I was turned off for wearing my lord’s linen and drinking my
lady’s ratafia, and then became bailiff’s follower; there I learned
bullying and swearing. I at last got into the army, and there I learned
wenching and drinking, so that if your worship pleases to cast up the
old sum, viz.--canting, lying, impudence, bullying, swearing, drinking,
and a halberd, you will find the sum total amounting to a recruiting
sergeant.”
This, then, is reputed to be the material; the following was the method
of capturing it.[22] The crown contracted with gentlemen of position or
known soldiers to raise a certain body of troops, and bounty money per
head was granted for the purpose. Regiments, therefore, long bore the
names of the colonels who had raised or those who had recruited them.
Sometimes in lieu of money the contractor sold the commissions, which
was called “raising men for rank”; and hence arose a further extension
of the purchase system which seems to have originated with Charles II.
For the maintenance of this force the colonel received an annual sum to
defray the cost of clothing, pay, and recruiting; thus it is related
that a British Fusilier Regiment had four years’ pay owing to officers
and men, who, in spite of repeated memorials, could not obtain any
portion of it. After the lapse of some time, it transpired that Lord
Tyrawley, the colonel, had appropriated the arrears to his own use; an
act which he attempted to justify by pleading the custom of the army,
and by the fact of the king being cognisant of his proceedings.[23]
Recruits were raised by “a beating order,” without which recruiting was
illegal, and the regiment was kept up to full strength. Field officers,
to increase their rate of pay, received, say, colonel _as_ colonel,
12s. a day, and in addition, as captain of company 8s. a day.
The term of enlistment of the recruit was a matter of arrangement, and
was often for life. The troops were long disposed in billets in Great
Britain, but in the early part of the eighteenth century barracks for
about 5000 men had been created, and the evils of billeting were fully
recognised. The barrack accommodation had not increased to more than
sufficient for 20,000 men by 1792.
The Jacobite risings form a curious link in the conduct of European
politics, and not only led to active interference in them because of
the support given by France and Spain to the Stuart cause, but they
are also domestically interesting as being the last cases in which
armed bodies have met in civil war in England. They also emphasise the
curious personal and sentimental attraction which long hung round the
dynasty of the Stuarts, and for which there is no sufficient reason
to be advanced. They were neither great nor noble, neither good nor
trustworthy. Their reigns were either years of disturbance at home or
ineptitude abroad. Their attraction was only that of romance, coupled
with that odd personal reverence for the divinity of kingship, which
James I. brought prominently forward as a political creed, and which no
previous sovereign had been successful in establishing. Men of repute
and renown often changed sides when the “Roses” reigned; but this was
rare when the Stuarts ruled, or tried to rule.
It is this romantic feeling that makes the efforts on the part of
the Jacobites to restore King James seem sorrowful. One cannot but
sympathise with those who sacrificed all for the most ungrateful
group of kings that have ever occupied the English throne, and at
the same time wonder why they did so. The Winchester motto of “Aimez
loyauté,” meant in the abstract but obedience or love for law, the
ordinances of the realm. It was for the enthusiastic Cavalier to
translate loyalty into personal regard for an indifferent, to say
the very least of it, group of kings, who had as a race scarcely one
attribute of true kingship. One’s sympathy, therefore, goes out more
fully towards the adherents than the leaders of the hopeless cause;
and it is well that the strong common sense of the nation saw that
the restoration of either of the Pretenders was hopeless. The peace
of Ryswick was the first blow to the faint hopes of James II.’s
restoration. His no longer receiving the active sympathy of France
reduced, for the time being, his “party” to a “faction.” The mistakes
of the Governments which followed were by no means the least of the
causes that re-formed it again into a “party” dangerous to the reigning
dynasty of Great Britain. There is no doubt that the injudicious
conduct of the statesmen of the early Georges, and even of the kings
themselves, did little to smooth matters. To have let small bickerings
and insurrections severely alone, by treating them as of no great
importance, might have rendered serious troubles less probable. Making
martyrs strengthened, rather than weakened the Jacobite cause; while,
on the other hand, the judicious conduct of the sovereign, later in the
century, destroyed for ever the hopes of seeing a Catholic James on the
British throne.
But one great result, as far as the growth of the army is concerned,
arose from these dynastic troubles. They led by degrees to a closer
union between the fighting materials of North and South Britain, and to
the formation of those Highland regiments whose glorious record must be
the pride of all sections of the army, whose colours they have so often
led to victory. The death of James II., and the recognition by France
of his son, the “Old Pretender,” as King of England, re-aroused the
enthusiasm of the followers of the Stuarts. They ceased to be a faction
once more, and hopes rose high when Queen Anne died. The accession of
George I. was marked by increasing discontent, and it is possible,
though hardly probable, that the Young Pretender may have been in
England at the time. But there was no open opposition to the Hanoverian
succession at first, though, owing to the severe measures taken against
the Jacobites in the north, measures which were looked on as contrary
to the Act of Union, many disturbances occurred there and elsewhere,
notably in Edinburgh, Oxfordshire, and Staffordshire. Little was
known, strange to say, of the Highland people. They were regarded in
many quarters as semi-savages, much as the Irish recruits for English
regiments were deemed when James II. was king. In 1705 the Lowland
Scottish Militia was assessed at 22,000 infantry and 2000 horse, while
the fighting strength of the Highlands was regarded as 40,000 men.
The Government hastily prepared for the outbreak of hostilities.
Regiments were raised and assembled, and the trained bands warned.
The standard of rebellion was soon raised, in Scotland by the Earl of
Mar, in Northumberland by the Earl of Derwentwater and others; and
some 10,000 men drew the sword for King James VIII., “our rightfull
and naturall King ... who is now coming to relieve us from all our
oppressions.” Notwithstanding Mar’s slowness, the revolt rapidly spread
in Scotland, where only some 2000 English troops under General Wightman
were assembled at Stirling, but the eastern counties of England were
watched by the newly-embodied battalions in dread of a descent by
France. Finally, the Duke of Argyll was appointed to the command of
the northern forces, which were to be reinforced, if required, by 6000
men from Holland; and among the troops assembled at Stirling were now
the ancestors of the Scots Greys, the 3rd, 4th, and 7th Hussars, the
6th Inniskilling Dragoons, and the 8th, 14th, and 21st battalions of
the line. There were also some volunteers from Glasgow, Paisley, and
Kilmarnock.
On the 13th November the opposing forces met at Sheriffmuir, near
Dunblane. The battle is only instructive as showing the Highlanders’
method of attack; in fact, they had at that time, like cavalry always
have, no real defensive. To defend was to take the offensive.
The formation of the Highland host long remained the same. Clans could
not be mixed. They fought side by side, each under its chieftain, who
stood in the centre, surrounded by his personal kinsmen, much as Harold
fought at Hastings with his housecarles. Then, often after silent
prayer, the plaids were thrown aside, and the charge was made. To this
there were five motions. First, to set the bonnet firmly on the head;
secondly, covered by the brass-studded target, to rush up to within
fifty yards; next, to fire the long-barrelled Spanish gun and drop it;
fourthly, to fire the steel pistol; and, lastly, to charge home with
dirk or claymore. The men were often arranged ten or twelve ranks deep.
The march and deployment of the troops on either side in this battle
was such as to place the left wings of both armies outflanking the
other. This gave Mar his chance, and he quickly took it. Ordering
the charge, he led the clan Maclean in person; and they, throwing
aside their plaids, fired a volley, dropped their muskets, and rushed
with cheers and yells on their opponents, claymore and target in
hand. Skilled in the use of these weapons, such a rush was for the
time irresistible. The bayonet thrust was met by the shield, and the
sword or dirk did the rest. The loss in such a case was terrible, the
wounded generally injured beyond recovery. And so the Jacobites swept
the enemy’s left clean off the field, but, like the Royalists sixty
years before, they did not know when to check pursuit, and turn the
defeat of one wing of an army into the rout of the whole. Yet there was
more discipline than usual in these irregulars, for they were little
more. Their first volley had been most steadily delivered, and they
were not “in the least discomposed by the musketry which the British
regiments opened on them in turn.” Meanwhile, on the other wing, Mar’s
troops had been defeated and routed by the combined attack of Argyll’s
cavalry on the flank and his infantry in front, and though the Macraes,
especially, fought with desperate obstinacy, the result here was
practically as decisive as had been the attack of the Earl of Mar. So
he fell back after the battle, leaving Argyll master of the field and
of the situation, and who remarked to an officer before the day closed
that--
“If it was na weel bobbit,
We’ll bob it again.”
But Mar was not the man to lead continuously a Highland host. Success
increased their fighting power--delay but weakened it; so that when
Argyll with some military wisdom at once took a simple defensive, Mar
feared to push the battle further, and his army fell back with the
prayer of at least one Scot, “Oh for one hour of Dundee!” The battle,
which is only noteworthy for the hard fighting of the Cameronians
against their fellow-countrymen, was theoretically “a draw,” but
the possession of the field and the spoil thereof rested with the
Hanoverian side. Soon the army of James began to melt away. The
Chevalier came to Scotland, but the affair of Preston in Lancashire
gave little encouragement for him to stay, and he returned to France.
The first attempt to restore James had signally failed, and while
Mar, attainted, died in exile at Aix la Chapelle, Lords Derwentwater
and Kenmure were beheaded, and the rest of the prisoners, from both
fields, were treated with the greatest barbarity. Still, this rather
inflamed than cowed the martial spirit of the north, for four years
later, the sentiment of revenge for cruelties unworthy even of the
days of the first Georges, led to reprisals. Spain had interested
herself in the Stuart cause, and treated the Chevalier as King of
Great Britain; while, oddly enough, France, being at war with Spain,
sided with King George. The Duke of Ormond headed the somewhat puerile
effort at invasion, which commenced with but 1500 Spaniards and Scots,
who, landing at Loch Alsh, encamped at Glenshiel; but these were to be
reinforced by a larger body under Ormond, which was, however, scattered
by a storm off Cape Finisterre. The isolated invaders received some
small reinforcement, including 400 Macgregors under Rob Roy, and took
up a strong position at the pass of Strachells. Against them marched
General Wightman once more, with some detachments of Dutch troops,
as well as companies of the 11th, 14th, and 15th line regiments; and
although the British force was repulsed, the Spaniards surrendered the
following day, and the Scots dispersed to their homes.
This second failure resulted in the departure of James from Madrid,
and the loss of Spanish help. But the two efforts had taught the
British Government a lesson. Two things were necessary to subdue these
turbulent Highlands, of whose inhabitants so little was known that
they were generally believed by many English people to be savages
and by some even cannibals. Roads were necessary to open the country
up to organised military movements, and the disarmament of the clans
was requisite to lessen the offensive power of their members. General
Wade, in 1724, was entrusted with this duty, and about this time
independent paid companies of Highlanders were formed, which, from the
sombre colour of their tartans, were called the “Black Watch,” and were
eventually formed into a regiment, numbered finally the 42nd.
To carry out his instructions, General Wade’s command (the 10th, 12th,
19th, and 21st Regiments) was reviewed by George I. on Salisbury Plain
in 1722, and marched to Inverness, where they joined the camp formed
by the 2nd Queen’s, commanded by Piercy Kirke. The 21st were quartered
in Aberdeenshire, but the remainder marched to Brahan Castle to disarm
the Mackenzies. No resistance was offered, but the whole thing was a
transparent fraud; for but 784 old weapons were given up, and even
then only with the stipulation that the companies of the Black Watch
should not be present. Finally, in all 2685 weapons were collected,
for which Wade calculated some £13,000 had been paid, “for broken
and useless arms which were hardly worth the expense of carriage.”
Meanwhile, the six Black Watch companies were detailed “to prevent the
Highlanders from returning to the use of arms, as well as to hinder
their committing depredations in the low country,” and for this purpose
were stationed as follows:--Lord Lovat, the passes between Loch Alsh
and Inverness; Colonel Grant, those from Ballindalloch to Dunkeld;
Sir Duncan Campbell, from Dunkeld to the Lorn Mountains; while the
remaining three companies were at Fort William, Kilcummin, and Ruthven.
Of course the best of the arms had been concealed and buried, to
reappear twenty years later, when the Young Pretender came. Probably
Wade guessed this, and was wise enough to close his eyes to what he
was not strong enough to prevent or enforce. But he improved the
communications of the country in an unostentatious way, so that a poem
of the time in rather Hibernian style says--
“If you’d seen those roads before they were made,
You’d lift up your hands and bless General Wade.”
One curious thing happened between 1725 and 1745. Two years short of
the last date, the newly formed regiment of the Black Watch mutinied.
The year 1745 saw the most serious as well as the last of the Jacobite
efforts, and on this occasion France had returned to her first love,
and posed for the last time as the friend of the Catholic dynasty of
Stuarts. The tinge of romance about “the ’45” would have had little
foundation if the Pretender of ’15 had taken part in the rising. He had
got old, and, what was worse, fat. Only his divine right could have
helped him through. But with his son it was different. He was young,
good-looking, and engaging; he was always most affable and accessible;
he was a brave if unfortunate princelet seeking to regain a throne.
He does not seem to have had any real strength of character, and
his end was pitiful; but he was in himself--and his cause was still
more--romantic, and he possessed both dash and courage.
So, taking advantage of the absence of the bulk of the British army
on the Continent, preparations were begun in 1743, when a French
expedition of 15,000 was assembled at Boulogne to make a diversion on
the south coast, while a landing of Stuart adherents was effected in
the north. But the attempt failed, and the fleet was driven back by a
storm.
In 1745 the attempt was repeated, and this time successfully; for
though the _Elizabeth_ frigate, convoying the _Doutelle_, in which the
prince was embarked, was driven back by the _Lion_ frigate of sixty
guns, after a most determined battle, he was enabled to debark at
Moidart, and establish a camp at Inverness. The loss of his convoy,
however, had deprived him, so wrote Marchant in his _History of the
Present Rebellion_, published two years later, of £400,000 sterling,
besides arms, ammunition, and twenty field guns, all of which would
have been of infinite value to him later, even if it had not materially
influenced, or at the least prolonged, the insurrection itself.
Sir John Cope, who commanded in Scotland, was not a man of much
quickness or resource; and the Jacobite song, “Hey, Johnny Cope, are
ye waukin’ yet,” alludes sarcastically to that fact. Stirling and
Edinburgh were garrisoned, it is true, and he had marched north to meet
the insurgent levies, but when the latter outflanked him and reached
Edinburgh, which surrendered at once (except the Castle garrison of
two companies of the 47th), he embarked at Aberdeen and landed again
near Dunbar. His total strength did not amount to more than 3000
men, all told, and among these were the 13th and 14th Light Dragoons,
two companies of the 6th Foot, five of the 44th, eight of the 47th,
the 46th, and Loudon’s Highlanders, with six guns manned by sailors
and volunteers. His position, near Prestonpans or Gladsmuir, when the
enemy came in sight, faced west and then south, and was fairly strong.
The right rested on Colonel Gardiner’s house--he commanded the 13th,
and fell in the battle--and the left on the Seton Manor House, while
in front was a marsh traversed by a ditch. Against this small and not
too confident army the prince had a heterogeneous half armed force
of some 5000 men, chiefly Highlanders,[24] without artillery and but
a few very irregular cavalry; and, hearing of the general’s landing,
he moved out at once from Edinburgh, where the Castle still held out,
to engage him. The first day was spent in mere manœuvring, but after
nightfall the prince decided on attacking at daybreak, and, guided by a
Mr. Robert Anderson, who knew the country, he marched in two columns in
sections of threes by obscure paths across the marsh, and finally over
an unguarded foot-bridge crossing the ditch already referred to, and
formed line of battle across Cope’s left flank. That general seemed in
no wise dismayed, and again changed front, while in his address to his
troops he referred to his opponents as being “a parcel of brutes,” and
“a despicable pack,” from whom “you can expect no booty.” He had not
experienced the nature of a Highland charge.
The Scottish army was formed in two lines, and it is not clear in this
instance that any firing was resorted to, as was often the case; but
the fury of the onslaught was such as at once to destroy the morale
of both the artillery and cavalry, who were on the flanks and fled in
disorder from the field, leaving the infantry isolated. But though
they held their ground for a while, they were assailed after their
first volley before they could reload, and were taken prisoners,
slain, or dispersed. All the colours, the guns, the military chest,
1500 prisoners, besides officers, and baggage, were the prizes of the
victors, and while 400 were slain, only 175 infantry soldiers escaped;
and this with a total loss of 110 killed and wounded on the opposite
side. Practically, the victory gave the whole of Scotland into Jacobite
hands, and the prince returned to Edinburgh, and wasted his time in
continuing the siege of the Castle.
The delay was turned to full account by the English Government. Ill
luck had followed the Stuart cause from its outset, and was to continue
till the end; even success in battle seemed to bear but little fruit.
Regiments were recalled from Flanders, though many were reduced to
mere skeletons. Thus, when the king asked where the rest of the 3rd
Dragoons were, he was told by their colonel, “I believe the residue is
at Dettingen.” But an army was formed by Marshal Stair, and reviewed by
the king on Finchley Common; another, under Wade, was in Yorkshire; and
a third, under Cumberland, lay at Lichfield.
Thus, when in November the Jacobite force moved into England, and
received no adherents as they had hoped to, and might have had if they
had started earlier before the Government could prepare for defence, it
had only taken Carlisle and reached Derby when the above armies were
ready to co-operate and check it.
So the prince turned back, to find that in Scotland the Whig clans had
risen, the west was in arms, and Edinburgh had assembled a force of
which Cope’s refugees were the nucleus.
The command of the sea in this as in all other cases was of the highest
value to one of the combatants. Especially in those days when sea
travel was quicker and more certain than land.
The retreat was only molested by the English dragoons at Penrith, for
the infantry could advance but slowly owing to the execrable nature of
the roads and the inclement season of the year, and the prince moved
to Stirling. The discipline of the small army there was excellent,
its behaviour to the people was at all times better and more gentle
than that of their adversaries, while the “orders” are concise and
soldierlike. Hawley, from Edinburgh, with the 1st Royals, 3rd Buffs,
4th, 8th, 13th, 14th, 27th, 34th, 37th, 48th,[25] and 52nd Regiments,
the 7th, 10th, and 14th Dragoons, and some local volunteers, was the
first to attack it. This he did at Falkirk, but, making the common
mistake of undervaluing the enemy, he was defeated, and retired in some
disorder to Edinburgh, with the loss of his guns, five colours, tents,
stores, and camp equipage. Thus a second English general had failed to
defeat the Scottish Jacobites.
The Duke of Cumberland was therefore despatched to Scotland, with
Major James Wolfe, of the 20th, as aide-de-camp, and met the prince at
Culloden, where he accepted battle with a weak and ill-provided army
against one strong in cavalry and artillery, the two arms in which
he was notoriously deficient. The story of that dismal battle is one
of 10,000 against 4000, of well-fed against fasting men, of cruelty
after the fight so revolting that the very names of all concerned
in it should be held in execration by every honest man. Wholesale,
cold-blooded butchery of wounded and prisoners, the vilest treatment
of women, who were then turned naked into the snow to die; these are
stories that stain the name of a general who well merited the name
he earned. To his credit be it said, however, Wolfe refused to take
part in these barbarities, and he must have felt with pride afterwards
that because of his conduct “it was remarked that the recusant officer
declined visibly in the favour and confidence of his commander.” It
was the last real battle that was fought on British land, and the only
point worthy of remembrance is the gallantry of the 4th Foot, in whose
ranks “there was not a bayonet that was not either bloody or bent.”
It pointed out for the last time the curious clannish pride which
characterised the Highland people, for the three Macdonald regiments,
who had been placed on the left rather than the right, a post of honour
they claimed as theirs since the days of Bruce, for the gallantry of
their forefathers at Bannockburn, refused to fight, or even to follow
their chieftain Keppoch, who fell, pierced with musket balls.
With Culloden the last hopes of the Jacobite “faction”--for it had
again become one now--died. Whatever hold, up to 1745, the Stuart
“idea” may have had on a section of the people, the wisest of them
saw that it was hopeless, and only the hopeful enthusiasts still had
dreams. It is difficult to know in these days whether there ever really
was a Jacobite party after “the ’45.” The idea seems to have died
in despair. Of course there were feeble and hysterical conspiracies
like the, possibly legendary, one of the young Scot who plotted the
assassination of the royal family; and the studied ignorance of Sir
Robert Walpole, who kept his eyes shut to these last faint flashes of
the fire of the cause, may have deepened the hopefulness of those who
still dreamed of “another opportunity,” as an old rebel of the name of
Scott did. There was one exception, in the cruel treatment and death
of Dr. Cameron about 1750 or 1751; but there may be some justification
for his execution, as he was no doubt a “go-between” the Pretender
in France and the few left faithful to him in the north. The Young
Pretender, too, seems to have been as blind as his adherents. Dr. King,
in his _Anecdotes of His Own Time_, states that in 1750 the prince
was in London; but he gives prominence to the undoubted fact that the
real destruction of the party was due to the decadence, physically and
morally, of the last real aspirant to the throne, and to the dread
that his mistress--Walkinshaw--was a paid spy of the house of Hanover,
her sister being housekeeper at Leicester House. Well might one of the
party ask this hopeless scion of a hopeless house, when endeavouring
to separate him from this woman, “What has your family done, sir, thus
to draw down the vengeance of Heaven on every branch of it for so many
ages?” The answer is simple enough. They had done little but bad. Their
kingship was only honourable with those who believed that any sovereign
was divinely appointed. The last of the Stuarts more than proved the
worthlessness of the whole race as far as the English throne was
concerned. Whether, as Scott romantically suggests in _Redgauntlet_,
the Young Pretender ever returned to Great Britain about 1765, is
improbable. Even if he did, his cause was lost, and that by his own
fault. What scion of the house of Stuart but so fell? It is not that
the early members of the house of Hanover were really great or good,
but it was because the last of the house of Stuart were irretrievably
mean and bad that the embers of the Civil War remained such, and never
after 1745 burst into a serious flame.
But while the house of Stuart was declining from mere corruption and
decay, the almost alien house of Hanover was slowly and securely
winning its way into English sympathies. This was natural enough as
the successive sovereigns became more English in their feelings and
their speech. Until the early Guelphs could speak freely and fully
the language of the nation over which they were called to rule, until
they were English born and had English ideas, there was, no doubt,
ground for a certain amount of antagonism. Thackeray’s _Four Georges_
proves up to the hilt how slow these sovereigns were in learning the
very patent fact that they must become English and cease to be German
to get a firm hold on our insular mind. And this they did eventually.
But, up to the ’45, their rule, which was still very foreign for years
after that date, was rather endured as a necessity than loved, their
personality regarded as alien rather than English. The one thing that
made the nation, up to the first half of the eighteenth century, accept
with little complaint, or hostility, princes who still were far too
German to please the tastes of English-speaking peoples, was their own
honesty of purpose and their personal courage and bravery. The house
of Guelph lost nothing by actual want of success in the foreign wars
about the time of the really serious Jacobite rising. Englishmen like
pluck, and don’t mind a beating, provided good men do their best. This,
then, is the story, as far as the army is concerned, of Dettingen and
Fontenoy. They were not successes, certainly, but neither king nor
soldier had shown want of the good old fighting spirit of Blenheim and
Malplaquet. At the worst it was a healthy time, and showed that our
mere bull-dog courage was not by itself the only thing by which battles
are won.
The causes of the war in which an English reigning sovereign led an
army in the field were the guarantee of Great Britain, France, and
other States, of the succession of Maria Theresa to the throne of the
German Empire, known as the “Pragmatic Sanction,” and the attack upon
Silesia by Frederick of Prussia. From this action France and Bavaria
were drawn into the struggle against the Empress, and George II.,
possibly fearing the preponderating growth of his neighbour Prussia
as a menace to his Hanoverian dominions, assembled a force of Danes,
Hessians, Hanoverians, and British, under the Earl of Stair, numbering
forty-four battalions, twenty of which were British, with fifty-three
squadrons. This army, about 35,000 strong, met the French, some
25,000 in number, and composed of twenty-four battalions, and thirty
squadrons, in position on the left bank of the Maine. The Allies were
at Aschaffenburg and Klein Ostheim, and prepared to march through
Dettingen on the right bank to join with a Hessian force at Hanau.
Noailles, who commanded the French army, forming a _tête du pont_ at
Selegenstadt on his left, and massing the centre and right opposite
Aschaffenburg, crossed by his left to head the allies off. Thus when
the battle began, both held positions at right angles to the Maine,
the British left and the French right respectively resting on the
stream. The offensive was continued by the French, and led to a wild
and injudicious advance of the right wing through and beyond Dettingen,
a movement contrary to what the general commanding, who now wished to
assume the defensive, intended, so that finally the French were beaten
and driven across the stream. Except for incidents in the battle it has
few points of interest.
The regiments engaged were the Life Guards and Blues; the 1st and 7th
Dragoons Guards; the 1st, 2nd, and 6th Dragoons; and the 3rd, 4th, and
7th Light Dragoons, now classed as Hussars. Of the infantry the 3rd,
8th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 20th, 21st, 23rd, 31st, 32nd, 33rd, and 37th
Regiments were engaged. The present Devonshire Regiment, from their
heavy losses here, at Ostend, and later on at Salamanca, was long
known, it is said, as the “Bloody Eleventh”; and the old 30th acquired
the name of the “Young Buffs,” from their facings in this battle,
which caused the king to exclaim, “Well done, old Buffs,” and on being
reminded of his mistake, and told it was the 31st, and not the 3rd,
replied, “Well done, then, _Young_ Buffs.” Of the 37th it is related
that a trooper of the 7th Dragoon Guards, who was charged afterwards
with being a deserter during the battle, proved that he had fought
on foot with the regiment, applying to Lieutenant Izzard for arms,
and, behaving with great gallantry, was afterwards rewarded with a
commission in the “Royal Welsh.”
The Greys had captured the white standard of the French Household
troops, and the 1st Royals took the colours of the Black Musketeers.
The king behaved with the greatest courage and coolness. His coolness
under fire attracted the notice of the Duke d’Arenberg, who thought
him “the bravest man he ever saw.” He headed the second line in
person. Thackeray, no great admirer of the Georges, thus writes of
him: “Whenever we hear of dapper George at war, it is certain that he
demeaned himself like a little man of valour. At Dettingen his horse
ran away with him, and with difficulty was stopped from carrying him
into the enemy’s lines. The king, dismounting from his fiery quadruped,
said bravely, ‘Now I know I shall not run away,’ and placed himself
at the head of the foot, drew his sword, brandishing it at the whole
of the French army, and calling out to his own men to come on, in bad
English, but with the most famous pluck and spirit.” He was very far
from a coward, therefore, this last British king who personally took
part in battle; and he exposed himself so freely that he was nearly
taken prisoner, and was rescued by the 22nd Regiment of the line, which
ever after wear oak-leaves on their headdress on Dettingen Day. Such
courage is contagious, and one is not surprised to find Lord Crawford
of the Life Guards shouting with battle enthusiasm, when attacked
in front and flank, “Never mind, my boys, this is fine diversion.”
The loss, however, was heavy, and few practical results followed the
victory. The junction with the Hessians was formed at Hanau, and there,
as the king refused to turn and attack the French again, the Earl of
Stair resigned his command and returned to England, partly because of
this refusal, and partly perhaps (as officers in William III.’s army
had felt as regards the Dutch) because he resented the favour too often
shown to German over English commanders.
By 1745 the British contingent had been further strengthened by the
addition of the 34th and 42nd Regiments up to about 53,000 men, or
forty-six battalions, ninety squadrons and ninety guns, and then the
Duke of Cumberland decided on attempting to raise the siege of Tournay,
which was being conducted by Marshal Saxe, and suffered a severe defeat.
The French position was extremely strong, and Barri wood on the left,
Fontenoy in the centre, and St. Antoine on the river on the right
were most carefully fortified and entrenched and defended by 260
guns. Here it was, as the attack developed, the story is told of the
meeting of the British and French Guards, when the former, saluting
with raised hats, called to their opponents, “Gentlemen of the French
Guards, fire!” The Highlanders behaved with extraordinary courage in
this their first great foreign battle, and one man, who had killed
nine Frenchmen, was in the act of cutting down the tenth when a shot
carried his sword-arm off. The carnage was extreme, yet the stubborn
soldiery would not give way even with the cross fire of musketry and
case-shot at short range; and at one moment, when St. Antoine was
carried, matters looked serious for Marshal Saxe. But that terrible
Irish Brigade, seven battalions strong, were now brought into the
fight. The fierce battle-cry of “Remember Limerick and Saxon faith”
showed that past evils were not forgotten, and added racial antipathy
to natural courage. The broken, wearied troops were too much shaken to
meet so fierce a charge of quite fresh men; and hence the Irish counter
attack fully succeeded, and the British retired sullenly, beaten. The
Allies had lost 21,000 men, killed and wounded, against 8000 of their
adversaries; but, outnumbered and exhausted as the British were, they
accounted for one-third of the men and one-fourth of the officers of
the Irish Brigade.
Naturally King George was disturbed by so serious a defeat; and
naturally, perhaps, he might have felt and said, in thinking of the
Irish at Fontenoy, “Cursed be the laws which deprive me of such
subjects!” On the other hand, the exultation felt by the exiled Irish
can equally well be understood, as well as the spirit that induced the
following lines of the time:--
“The English strove with desperate strength; they rallied, staggered,
fled:
The green hillside is matted close with dying and with dead.
Across the plain, and far away, passed on that hideous wreck,
While cavalier and fantassin dash in upon their track.
On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, like eagles in the sun,
With bloody plumes the Irish stand--the field is lost and won!”
Little occurred after the battle until the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle
brought hostilities to a conclusion.
Few changes had taken place in the armament of the troops in these
days. The hand grenade was still in use, as a picture of a grenadier of
the Foot Guards, dated 1745, shows; and officers, up to 1759, carried
either the spontoon or a “light fusil” as part of their equipment, with
the sash worn over the left shoulder as at present. Non-commissioned
officers still carried the halberd.
The three-cornered hat was largely replaced by the sugar-loaf-shaped
“Kevenhuller” hat; and, in addition to the bright-barrelled musket
and bayonet, the privates carried a short sword. Wigs were abolished,
and long gaiters covered the leg to the knee, while the coats were
shortened to a sort of turned-back swallow-tail, in imitation of the
Prussian uniform.
[Illustration: _Private 24^{th} Reg^{t}. 1751._]
Body armour had been reduced to a mere relic of defence in the
“duty gorget”--a small plate of brass with the Royal Arms, which
was suspended by a piece of black ribbon from the neck by officers
“on duty”; a custom that obtained up to 1830. There had been no
material change in tactics; but the Royal Artillery had become more
fully organised in four companies, the uniform being a loose, long,
heavily-cuffed blue cloth coat with red facings. The Royal Military
Academy, for the education of artillery officers, was also established
about 1741, and the “Horse Guards” as an institution about 1750.
The Black Watch, however, the first of the new Highland regiments, was
permitted, for some time, to carry a dirk, pistols, and round target.
Medals were issued after Culloden, and regimental numbers appeared on
the coat buttons about 1767.
Tactics and the “order of battle” were slow in changing, but the
growing preponderance of infantry, now organised in three ranks only,
was becoming more evident after Dettingen and Fontenoy. Battles were
fought on more modern lines, and infantry bore the brunt; while the
cavalry at Dettingen had at last discovered its proper rôle, and
behaved with the greatest gallantry, in _not_ leading the main attack
as at Blenheim, but in meeting its own opposing arm and keeping it in
check, and finally in converting the French retreat across the river
into very nearly a rout.
The artillery still lacked mobility, and were not vigorously handled,
with the exception of some Hanoverian batteries, which pushed up to
support the final advance of the infantry, and opened fire on the
French flank. So at Fontenoy the infantry had most to do. This was the
beginnings of the tactics of the future.
Thus by 1755, or thereabout, the army had been steadily increasing.
After the death of Marlborough, the 9th and 10th Dragoons and the 40th
and 41st Regiments of infantry came on the permanent establishment,
chiefly because of the Jacobite rising of 1715; the 10th, 11th, 12th,
13th, and 14th Regiments of cavalry also date from the same period;
the 42nd had been formed from the separate Highland companies into the
“Black Watch,” so called from the sombre colour of their tartans; and
soon followed the 43rd, 44th, 45th, 46th, 47th, and 48th of the line.
The 49th, at first known as the 63rd Americans, dates from 1743.
But still the old jealousy of, and objection to, a large standing army
was always recrudescing. On the accession of George II., the cadres
only amounted to 17,760 men; and even this small body Mr. Pulteney,
M.P., and “downright” Shippen in the House of Commons wished to be
reduced to 12,000! The threat of war in 1739 stopped this; but the
army was still at the mercy of political partisans, as the Duke of
Argyll in his masterly attack on Sir Robert Walpole in the House of
Lords conclusively proves. Another hundred years, too, had to pass by
before “political services ceased to form the foundation of a claim for
military preferment.”
Flogging, long recognised, and rattan punishment, copied, like the
absurd uniform and rigid drill, from much-admired Prussia, now became a
permanently recognised institution, and so remained until 1878. It is
always a wonder that a free country, such as England, ever permitted
the correctional system of the crudest of all military despotisms, that
of the so-called Frederick the Great, to live so long. But in this, as
in uniform and drill, our army has always been more of a copyist of
foreign methods than an originator.
CHAPTER VII
THE ARMY IN AMERICA--TO 1793
The period through which the army passed in the second part of the
eighteenth century was distinguished by a marked change in the causes
which led to the wars culminating in the separation of the American
Colonies from the mother country. There were still Continental troubles
in which English forces and others were engaged, where political,
balance of power, or dynastic influences were as heretofore the
primary causes of such campaigns. Minden is one of these; and, without
entering into the whole of the military history of the time, the battle
is especially noteworthy as adding additional laurels to those the
army had already gathered. It may be well, therefore, to refer to it
here, though somewhat out of the order of dates, as it is a more or
less isolated factor in the general story. The Seven Years’ War broke
out in 1756, and in 1759, after sundry successes, the French menaced
Hanover. Their opponents, commanded by Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick,
were assisted by a small British contingent commanded by Lord George
Sackville, consisting of six cavalry regiments: the Horse Guards,
the 1st and 3rd Dragoon Guards, the 2nd, 6th, and 10th Dragoons; and
six infantry battalions: the 12th, 20th, 23rd, 25th, 37th, and 51st.
There was much manœuvring on the part of Prince Ferdinand, before he
succeeded in drawing his opponents across the marshy Wastau brook which
unites with the river Weser at Minden to form a deep re-entrant bend.
Crossing both these streams by numerous temporary bridges, the French,
under Contades, deployed some 50,000 troops against 36,000;[26] but
the flanks of his line of battle being unsuitable for the action of
cavalry, the whole of that arm, some 10,000 strong, and the flower of
his army, was stationed in the centre. On the other hand, the English
flanks were strengthened by cavalry, that on the right commanded
directly by Lord George Sackville; and on both sides the artillery were
chiefly on the flanks. Partial attacks, and an artillery duel on both
sides therefore began the action, but the “soul of the fight” was the
contest between the French cavalry and the two English brigades in the
centre, which yet again emphasised, if such emphasis were necessary,
the steadily increasing fighting power of well-disciplined infantry.
Gallant as was the charge of the Mousquetaires, grey and red, desperate
as was their onslaught, the footmen received them with close volleys at
forty yards, and, as Contades himself bitterly remarked, “I have seen
what I never thought to be possible--a single line of infantry break
through three lines of cavalry, ranked in order of battle, and tumble
them to ruin.” These six battalions marched, not as ordered, to attack
“you six _on_ sound of drum,” but translated the command into “_by_
sound of drum”; and so, with drums playing, entered into the crucial
battle with a brigade in both the first and second line. After the
first repulse of the enemy, they formed in single line of battalions,
with the Hanoverians on their left, and when the cavalry was routed,
drove back with heavy loss a Swiss and a Saxon brigade that attempted
to stop their splendid advance. Had Lord George Sackville charged with
his cavalry as he was ordered to have done, and should have done, the
French army would have been destroyed. As it was, only the Hessian and
Hanoverian cavalry on the left were of any service. The French lost
about 7000 men, 43 guns, and 17 colours, while in the British division
alone, 1394 officers and men had fallen. Of all the regiments, none
was more distinguished than “Kingsley’s,” now the 20th; but though the
“order of the day” after the battle stated that the regiment “from its
severe loss, will cease to do duty,” the “Minden Boys,” the “Men of
Kingsley’s stand,” were far too proud to accept even so kindly meant a
rest, and two days later we read that “Kingsley’s regiment, at its own
request, will resume its portion of duty in the line.” Well might His
Serene Highness Prince Ferdinand state publicly that, “next to God, he
attributes the glory of the day to the intrepidity and extraordinary
good behaviour of these troops.” The six Minden regiments were honoured
by being permitted to wear the laurel wreath in their colours, and
to this day, on the 1st August, the men deck themselves with roses
in remembrance of the battle, in which tradition says men walked to
death with roses they had plucked on the way in their breasts. One
curious fact in connection with the battle is that Colonel Preston, who
commanded a brigade of cavalry, wore the last buff-coat that has been
seen on a field of battle, which saved him from being wounded, though
cut at “more than a dozen times.”
Minden preserved Hanover and Brunswick from the hands of the French,
and obliged them to leave Westphalia; while the British colours
waved in many a skirmish in the great war, as well as in the greater
battles of Warburg, Zierenburg, Kloster Kampfen, Kirch-Denkern, and
Wilhelmstahl. This latter name is borne by the 5th Foot as the first
name on its colours, for there it behaved with the most brilliant
bravery, taking a French standard and twice its own strength in
prisoners. After this battle the regiment was permitted to wear French
Grenadier headdresses, instead of the three-cornered hat then generally
in use, and these they retained until replaced later by the fusilier
“cap.” In the ranks of the 5th at Wilhelmstahl, fought Phœbe Hassell,
who was pensioned by George IV., and who lies, quiet enough now, in the
churchyard at Hove.
Again, during the war with Spain, an army which included the Buffs
and 16th Light Dragoons served there under the command of the Earl of
Loudon; and one of his brigadiers, Burgoyne, won a minor but brilliant
victory at Valencia de Alcantara, where the cavalry carried the city
sword in hand, and held it till the infantry arrived.
Peace followed a year later, and though England restored many of her
conquests, she retained much. The army was recalled from Germany, and
its own retirement from active service saw also that of its popular
leader, the Marquis of Granby. He had shown much courage and some skill
in the field. He had been most solicitous for the welfare of his men,
and there is no doubt of their appreciation of him. The numerous inn
signs bearing his portrait and his name are but relics of the days
when he was regarded as the soldier’s “friend,” whom the men delighted
to honour, and “to drain a tankard to his health.” But his mantle was
not taken up by his successor for a while at least; for at Quebec, the
year after his withdrawal from public life, the 15th, 27th, and two
battalions of the 60th all but mutinied because of the introduction of
a daily stoppage of fourpence a day for the food ration, a system of
supporting the soldier out of his own pocket that lived on till within
the last twenty years.
But it is round the great contest on the American Continent which was
to result in, first, the conquest and retention of Canada, and then
the loss of our own possessions in North America, that the national
interest centres. By 1755 the French had practically absorbed Canada
with its dependencies, and furthermore claimed authority over the whole
valley of the Mississippi from its source to its mouth; and had linked
its conquests or its occupation together by a series of forts from
Quebec on the St. Lawrence river to the point where the Alleghany and
Monongahela unite to form the Ohio, and where Pittsburg now stands.
Here Fort Duchesne was erected. In fact, the French laid claim to
what would now be called the Hinterland of the whole of Eastern North
America without possessing much of its coast line, and it was to
break through this fancied and fragile chain that the first hostile
expedition was despatched. It was commanded by Braddock with a mixed
force of colonials and the 44th and 48th Regiments, while on the staff
served George Washington; but through gross ignorance and carelessness
it fell into an ambush and was heavily routed. Other equally feeble
efforts were made on other points in the enemy’s defensive line, but
all were more or less ineffective, and this naturally led to reprisals
and increased activity on the part of the French.
[Illustration: _QUEBEC. (1759.)_]
Hence the British army in America, whose headquarters were at New
York, was reinforced by the 17th, 42nd, and 2-60th Regiments, and the
conquest of Canada was decided on. An attempt against Fort Ticonderoga
in 1758, when the 42nd lost 647 men, failed, as did a first expedition
against Louisburg, Cape Breton; but in 1758 the Earl of Loudon was
despatched to Nova Scotia with the 1st, 17th, 27th, 28th, 43rd, 46th,
53rd, and 56th Regiments, which were formed into three brigades,
of which Brigadier-General James Wolfe commanded that composed of
the grenadiers, light infantry, and Black Watch, and behaved with
distinguished gallantry.
Fort Duchesne, a second time threatened, was abandoned by the French,
and in 1759 Wolfe led the expedition against Quebec, where he met
a glorious death during its capture. The regiments present were
the 15th, 28th, 35th, 43rd, 47th, 48th, 60th, the _old_ 78th, or
Fraser Highlanders, which was disbanded in 1763; while the grenadier
companies of the regiments, with those of the 22nd, 40th, and 45th
(at Louisburg), and also the light infantry companies, were formed
into separate corps as usual. The fortress was far too strong to be
assaulted frontally, with a wide river covering it, and to pass that
at any time in boats was a risky and difficult operation. But the
rear of the town was but weakly defended, and faced an open plain,
which was regarded as practically unassailable, owing to the steep
and almost precipitous nature of the approaches to it. It was due,
it is said, to a Scottish officer called Macculloch that the design
to attack on this side was formed; and it was executed with much
difficulty, though with the greatest good fortune, as the river bank
was guarded by sentries. But these were evaded, and when Wolfe landed,
the obstacles to the advance even there were such that Wolfe exclaimed
to one of the Highland officers, “I do not believe, sir, there is any
possibility of getting up, but you must now do your best.” And they
did so. Slinging their muskets the Frasers gained the summit by sheer
hard climbing, and, driving back a piquet, seized a path by which the
other troops mounted; so that when the sun rose, it shone on Wolfe’s
line of regiments in contiguous columns advancing against Quebec.
Montcalm moved out resolutely to meet the threatening danger. But the
battle was soon over. The Frasers charged, Highland fashion, with
dirk and claymore; and Wolfe and Montcalm were both mortally wounded.
Wolfe lived long enough to hear the shouts of victory; Montcalm died
before the actual capitulation of Quebec; and Lieutenant Macculloch
died a pauper in Marylebone Workhouse thirty-four years later. This
capture of Quebec practically meant the conquest of Canada, which, with
Newfoundland, etc., was ceded to Great Britain; and though there were
troubles on the Pennsylvanian frontier, to suppress which a regiment of
Highlanders was despatched, nothing of real importance occurred till
the revolt of the American Colonies in 1774.
More stress is laid on this portion of the army’s story, because the
war was between sections of the same race, and because much came of it.
Great Britain commenced the American contest that at first seemed so
unequal, under some disadvantages, none the less. The result of a long
period of military inactivity was, as it always has been and will be,
most materially felt. There were few old, or at least veteran, soldiers
in the ranks who had been under fire, and the younger officers were
equally inexperienced. This was natural to expect after
“The cankers of a calm world and a long peace,”
but it was at the bottom of both the want of skill with which
this singular war was conducted, and the want of appreciation, at
first certainly, of how such an enemy as the army of the colonists
should be tactically met. It was to be a war in which bush-fighting
and skirmishing were to be the leading features, as Braddock’s
disaster long years before and the defeat at Ticonderoga had already
conclusively proved. But the British leaders were to learn the fact,
they might have foreseen, in the “only school fools learn in, that of
experience.”
In order to understand the reason for the want of uniformity and union
in the desultory campaigns that followed each other, a glance at the
map is necessary. It will be seen there that when hostilities broke
out, the seat of war was practically cut in two by the Hudson, at the
mouth of which was New York; and beyond Albany, up stream, a series
of forts guarded the line of approach from Canada by way of Quebec,
Lake Champlain, and Saratoga. This general line, therefore, cut the
confederation into two unequal parts, and separated the, at first, more
resolute New England States from those of the south, who, again, to
begin with, were somewhat lukewarm in the national cause. It was the
obstinate folly of the British Government, even more than the feeble
conduct of her warlike operations in America, that led to the final
result. Again, the command of the sea gave Great Britain the advantage
of being able to transfer her troops to any part of the long American
coast line, and attack or threaten the hostile levies formed at
different parts, but whose own power of concentration was hampered by
bad roads, a sparse population, and the physical difficulties offered
by the numerous rivers and estuaries. These latter, on the other
hand, were of the highest value to the sea power; and it was not till
France threw her sword into the scale that the balance of power at sea
was equalised and American success became a certainty. The temporary
loss of that naval supremacy, with all the world against us, was the
direct cause of the surrender at York Town, and the termination of the
struggle. More than all, perhaps, this very prolongation of hostilities
strengthened and gave experience to the colonists, which was all they
wanted. They had the courage and a cause already. Howe and other
English generals gave them confidence and trained their leaders.
Boston was the active centre whence the “disease of disagreement”
spread. Stout, hard-headed Puritans, whose ancestors had left the
mother country for freedom’s sake, were as little likely to submit to
“taxation without representation,” in the latter days of the eighteenth
century, as their forebears had been a hundred years before. “Let us
be of one heart,” says one of them, “and stand fast in the liberties
wherewith Christ has made us free, and may He, of His infinite
mercy, grant us deliverance out of all our troubles.” But the home
Government thought otherwise. Boston, as a port, was to be closed.
General-Governor Gage was sent there to garrison it; and so doing,
applied the match to all the political tinder which surrounded him,
and was fully ready to burst into a flame. For not far from Boston the
colonists had collected some military stores at Concord and Lexington,
and these Gage decided on seizing. He had been _ordered_ to “take
possession of colonial forts, seize all military stores, to repress
rebellion by force, and imprison all suspects,” so the fault was not
all his. But the detachment of the 10th and the marines were beaten
back badly, and took refuge behind the reinforcements sent to help them
in such a condition of rout that they “flung themselves down on the
ground, with their tongues hanging out of their mouths, like those of
dogs after a chase.” It was a bad beginning, to say the least of it,
but it was curiously followed up; for the assailants were themselves
assailed, and Boston was besieged by the “Provincials,” who had many
men, boundless enthusiasm, but only a few guns and only sixty barrels
of powder “in all Massachusetts.” But by now they had that courtly
Virginian gentleman, George Washington, at their head, and without
him the revolution that made an empire would have had faint chances
of success. The only point of interest in this siege of Boston is the
battle of Bunker’s or Breed’s Hill. It was the last effort but one
to complete the ring of investment. The American General Prescott
had attempted to hold this peninsula, between the Charles and Mystic
rivers, and had fortified it with a poor breastwork and a still weaker
obstacle afforded by a post and rail fence, screened by new-mown hay.
But the fatal British failing of despising an adversary who could
shoot, received additional emphasis. The casual attack of the flank
companies of the 5th, 38th, 43rd, and 52nd, together with the 47th, the
1st marine battalion, and the 23rd, the latter of which suffered most
severely, was met by a deadly fire at thirty paces, and it took three
efforts to carry the weak defensive position, and then with a loss of
1200 officers and men out of about 2000. To add to the misery of the
defeat may be added the absurdity of making the men go into action
carrying 125 pounds of heavy marching order weight. It was the first
pitched battle of the war, small as it was, and the colonists had won.
Its moral value, therefore, far outweighed its other importance, and it
was soon followed by the retirement of the British from the town. The
district east of the Hudson was never again seriously troubled, while
in the meantime Ethan Allen and Benedek Arnold had captured, and still
guarded, the road to Canada by way of the Hudson and Lake Champlain.
But the disasters around Boston had stirred the home Government into
unwonted activity. In 1776 the army in America was composed of the
4th, 5th, 10th, 14th, 15th, 17th, 18th, 22nd, 23rd, 27th, 35th, 38th,
40th, 42nd, 43rd, 44th, 45th, 49th, 52nd, 63rd, 64th, and 71st Foot,
with the 16th and 17th Light Dragoons and some battalions of Hessians.
Opposed to them was the main Colonial army under Washington, at or
about New York. The only plan of campaign, if such it could be called,
that Howe formed, was to seize New York, occupy a central position,
and support the two wings that, operating from the Canadian lakes for
the Upper Hudson on the one hand and from some naval base hereafter to
be determined on the southern coast, were to crush between them the
widely extended forces of the “Confederacy.” The internal difficulties
of co-operation were as bad for his divided wings as for Washington’s
extended front; but he had the great advantage of being able to
threaten the enormous coast line of the States. Thus the first move
in the game was the attack on Long Island; but though Washington was
defeated, he was enabled, through the supineness of his adversary,
to withdraw his whole force to the mainland. For while Howe thought,
reposing in his tent after the battle, that “they are at our mercy
to-morrow,” it was not to be; for when that morrow came, “the whole
continental force had crossed the East River, and our empire over
thirteen colonies had slipped away too.”
Still the British army pressed on, drove the adversary from New York,
defeated him again at “White Plains” farther back, where Washington
checked Howe’s advance by no stronger entrenchments than those hastily
erected with stalks of Indian corn, roots outward, and after some
minor action dispersed the American forces, and Washington retired
south behind the Delaware. The invader had done little after all.
The Americans were not defeated, as the next step proved. For if the
Colonists were dispersed by defeat so were also the British “by order”
through the Jerseys; and General Howe held his soul in peace at New
York.
To await a rude awakening. For, notwithstanding winter snow and
ice-clad rivers, on Christmas night 1776, Washington took the
offensive. Everyone knows the picture of his “Crossing the Delaware.”
How the Continentals were being hardened in! They “left the marks
of their march in the bloodstained footsteps of those whose boots
barely covered their feet,” but they succeeded. Trenton was taken. A
night march, covered by the clever stratagem of leaving fires alight
when the main body moved off, and a rearguard to work noisily at
trenches, resulted in a battle, after which the 40th, 17th, and 55th
British regiments fell back in disorder, and the ultimate result was
the abandonment of the Jerseys by the British army. In June 1777,
the relative strength of the combatants was 30,000 British troops
against 8000 Americans. As Colonel du Portael writes: “Ce n’est pas
par la bonne conduite des Americains, que la campagne en général s’est
terminée assez heureusement; mais par la faute des Anglais.” This is
the key to the whole situation.
The first attempt to reach the nominal capital, Philadelphia, had
thus failed. The next was more direct, and was to be assisted by an
invasion from Canada. The latter can be dismissed in a few words.
General Burgoyne selected so bad a line of march on Saratoga, not far
from Albany, on the upper reaches of the Hudson, that he was compelled
to surrender there. The fighting had been most severe. At Stillwater
and other places, the 9th, 20th, 21st, 62nd (who in this war got their
name of “Springers,” from acting as the light infantry, whose order to
advance was “Spring up”), the grenadiers, and the light companies of
the 35th and 24th behaved with the greatest gallantry, as did the 9th,
of which regiment there is an interesting story to tell. With the army
its warlike stores should have been surrendered; but the colonel of
this regiment, with a feeling that can be comprehended, without actual
sympathy, removed the colours from the staves and secreted them. On
returning home, they were remounted, and presented to the king, who
returned them to the officer, to be retained as an heirloom. Passing
through many hands, they finally descended to the Chaplain of the Royal
Military College, Sandhurst, who presented them to that institution,
where, “trooped” by a battalion of the regiment then at Aldershot, they
were placed in the college next the pair of colours which were borne
by the 9th during Peninsular fights. But those which were carried in
America are distinguished from the later ones by the absence of the St.
Patrick’s Cross in the “Jack.”
Meanwhile, Howe’s army, concentrated at New York after its retreat
from the Jerseys, had put to sea, and, sailing south, had landed in
the estuary of the Chesapeake. Washington, from the neighbourhood of
the Hudson, moved down to meet him, taking up a position behind the
Brandywine, but he was badly beaten by an outflanking attack, and fell
back behind Philadelphia to Valley Forge, and the British occupied
the capital. The battle proved conclusively that neither the American
levies nor their leaders were yet able to cope with regular forces in
a pitched battle. The waiting game was better, and the night attack on
Germanstown a few weeks later only failed because of the grim tenacity
the 40th Regiment showed in the defence of Judge Tew’s house at the
entrance of the village. Beyond this, little was done in the winter of
1777, but Howe returned home, and was succeeded by Sir Henry Clinton,
who soon withdrew from Philadelphia, and returned with the army to New
York, by way of the Jerseys, where a sharp rearguard action was fought
at Monmouth Courthouse, and again the Colonists were defeated in their
effort to disturb the retreat. Again it was evident that the natural
semi-guerilla warfare which they had first adopted was more suitable
to their powers than more serious tactics. Throughout, Washington had
shown little real military skill, and his tangible success was once
more due to his adversary’s faults.
But one great event followed on the surrender of the British at
Saratoga and the return of Clinton to New York. France, who had so long
openly sympathised with the Colonists as to permit American privateers
to sell English prizes in her ports, had formed with the States a
commercial treaty, in which they were referred to as being “in full
possession of independence,” and finally threw her sword into the
scale, a course in which she was not long after followed by Spain.
Speaking generally, the theatre of war from this time forward, useless
forays and wanton mischief elsewhere excepted, shifted to the South.
Georgia was first reduced to submission. Then the Carolinas were
attempted. Charleston was taken, the Southern Provinces occupied, and
the usual desultory, haphazard fighting followed, with the customary
want of practical results. The need of a connected plan of operation is
apparent everywhere. Gates was badly beaten at Camden; and reprisals,
that embittered even those who were not seriously disaffected to the
royal cause, followed. Mistake after mistake! This, at least, was
not the way to cow into submission men largely of English race. It
is curious to note also in this part of the campaign that the only
generals fighting on the American side who were distinctly of English
birth, and had had some military training,--Gates and Lee,--had proved
themselves distinct failures.
Cornwallis was next despatched to the South, and fared no better than
his predecessors; while Clinton, in command of New York, directed the
operations thence with no greater success, having to face now the
greater danger of dealing with regular French troops side by side with
the levies of the States.
But at this juncture, when the new allies were actually landing, and
the beginning of the end had come, General Arnold was given the command
of West Point, on the Hudson, the river-line dividing the New England
States from the remainder, and to the retention of which Washington
attached extraordinary importance. The story of his treason is one of
the few bits of romance in the history of this prolonged and unhappy
war. He was brave beyond measure, he was reckless and careless, he
was vain, ostentatious, and extravagant; but no one dreamed he was a
traitor. He had tried to obtain a loan from the French Minister and had
failed, and, so doing, turned to the other side, and proposed for money
and advancement to surrender West Point and the Highlands, “in such
a manner as to contribute every possible advantage to His Majesty’s
arms.” His immediate go-between and correspondent was a certain Major
André, Adjutant-General of the British Army, and A.D.C. of Sir Henry
Clinton. On the very night that Washington met the French officer at
Hartford, to arrange the allied plan of campaign, André, dressed in
uniform, over which he wore a long greatcoat, landed to confer with
Arnold. So prolonged were the treasonable negotiations, that day
broke, and retreat became dangerous. Over-persuaded, he changed into
plain clothes, concealed in his boots the plans and documents he had
procured, and, under a forged pass and a feigned name, attempted to
cross the neutral ground, and reach Tarrytown. He was captured and made
prisoner, and his captors, refusing a heavy bribe, sent him to North
Castle. Meanwhile, Arnold had received information that the plot was
known, and embarked on board H.M.S. _Vulture_ under a flag of truce,
and completed his treason by surrendering his own boat’s crew as
prisoners of war!
André was brought to trial before fourteen general officers, among
whom were the Marquis de Lafayette and Baron Stuben, and was by all
the customs of war, and “according to the law and usage of nations,”
sentenced to be hanged. “His appeal to die by shooting rather than by
hanging was refused. As General Greene is reported to have said, to
have mitigated the sentence would have been to doubt its justice. So
he died the death of a spy, as from his own confession and action he
deserved, but he died bravely and calmly, like a gallant gentleman
of England.” No such death created more controversy, or raised more
hysterical sympathy. The whole business was bad, and André soiled his
hands in touching it at all, let alone the fact of his being in plain
clothes within the enemy’s lines, which at once placed him without
doubt in the position of a spy. His reasons for going there, assumed
to be patriotic, were largely personal, for promotion was to reward
success; and they have little to do with the matter. However good the
reasons, the means were vile; too vile even to justify the end.
Washington was censured severely for his severity at the time, but
no one now would blame him. He had his duty to his country to do,
and he did it. None the less, André’s bones were eventually moved to
Westminster Abbey, and a fulsome tablet records the manner of his death.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, Cornwallis in the Carolinas scored a victory at Guildford
Courthouse, where the Guards, the old 71st, and the 23rd and 33rd,
defeated an inferior force of militia and what were fast becoming
seasoned troops, but the task was too heavy for his strength. “My
cavalry,” he sadly writes, “wanted everything, and the infantry
everything but shoes.” So he marched, with sundry skirmishes of little
value in various places, north-east towards York Town, and Lord Rawdon,
who practically commanded the other wing, fell back south-east towards
Charleston, with the 3rd, 63rd, and 64th.
While Greene watched and “contained” the latter, Washington and
Rochambeau, giving up the long-cherished idea of the defence of the
Hudson and the capture of New York, moved into Virginia to assist
York Town. When the first parallel of the siege was completed,
Washington fired the first shot, and soon after, for the second time
in this hapless war, a British general with an army surrendered to the
Continental levies, just four years after the defeat of Burgoyne.
The British troops had behaved, be it said, with the greatest
gallantry. The 71st, the grenadiers of the old 80th, and especially the
Royal Welsh Fusiliers, had done all that men could, and the colours of
the last-named regiment were, like those of the 9th at Saratoga, taken
home wrapped round the bodies of two officers. Lord Cornwallis himself
bears testimony that the Allies behaved with dignity, and that “the
treatment in general that we have received from the enemy since our
surrender has been perfectly good and proper.” Of the above regiments,
the 76th, 71st, and 80th were afterwards disbanded in 1783-84.
Five days later, Clinton’s tardy reinforcements reached the Chesapeake
from New York, but it was too late. French assistance, and still more
French money, to the exhausted and almost bankrupt Americans had
brought peace within measurable distance, and just eight years after
the eventful conflict of Lexington, the news of the Peace of Paris was
communicated to the army.
Though of little military value, the embers of the struggle for
independence still remained alight, and so far flickered into a flame
in 1814, as to make it worth while recording the last instance in which
British troops fought on American soil. The New Republic had been
a bit _tête montée_ after its undoubted success against the mother
country. There was unquestionably the feeling arising, first of all,
of a natural continuance of sympathy for France, as well as that of
having “licked the Britishers, who had licked the world.” The causes
of irritation are immaterial, and to some extent childish, but they
resulted in hostilities none the less. The war began with some minor
affairs in Canada, chiefly between the local militias, as there were
few British regular battalions in that country; but there was some
severe skirmishing for some time, in which the 8th, 41st, 49th, 89th,
the Royal Scots, some local bodies of volunteers, and the 100th and
104th battalions of the line, which were disbanded after the long war,
took part. Success generally rested with the Americans, and there were
some smart naval actions on the Great Lakes.
But after the temporary conclusion of hostilities on the Continent in
1814, Great Britain was freer to turn her attention to this American
squabble. It was scarcely worth while at any time to dignify it by the
name of war. So some veteran Peninsular battalions, the 4th, 44th,
85th, 29th, and 62nd, as well as the 21st North British Fusiliers,
were sent to reinforce the army in America. The fighting showed much
exasperation on both sides, and there is little that is creditable to
either of the combatants. An advance on Washington was first made, and
after the brilliant affair of Bladensburg, where the Americans made
their first serious stand, and were easily beaten, the capital was
seized, and the Government stores and buildings burned. All that can
be said to the credit of the British is, that “no private property was
destroyed.”
The American order of battle by this time was quite European. It formed
in two lines, and a reserve with cavalry on the flank, and guns more
or less dispersed, while the front was covered by “strong bodies of
riflemen” in skirmishing order.[27]
A further effort against Baltimore was equally ineffective, and Ross
“of Bladensburg” fell. Finally, the army, reinforced by the 7th and
43rd, the 93rd and 95th, and two West Indian regiments, attempted the
capture of New Orleans, and, to all intents and purposes, failed.
The whole war is regrettable from every point of view. The operations
on the part of the British so far lacked method and cohesion, as to
class them rather as filibustering expeditions than serious war. The
conduct of the Americans throughout offers no redeeming point, as they
fired on a flag of truce, and caused retaliatory measures because of
their unwarrantable action in the early operations in Canada. The
peace that was signed in 1815 was a relief to both sides; but it left
a bad feeling behind which time has failed entirely to eradicate. In
the War of Independence, as in this struggle, and to some extent in the
Civil War of 1864, we have always most unfortunately been opposed to
our own kith and kin. Be the faults what they may, they can scarcely
be deemed entirely one-sided. But the evil legacy of armed opposition
has a grim tendency to live on, whether it be with a successful or a
defeated antagonist.
One curious old custom arose out of the fighting of this time, with one
regiment of the line, the 29th. Tradition is doubtful as to the precise
time and place, the when and where the custom originated. Long before
1792, and up to about 1855, the officers were always accustomed to
wear their swords at mess, and thus got the name of the “Ever-sworded
Twenty-ninth.” The custom is referred to in the old standing orders,
and is believed to have arisen from a detachment of the regiment having
been surprised by Indians at St. John’s, and massacred, the deed being
prompted by the French inhabitants from a feeling of revenge. Even
now the captain and subaltern of the day appear with their swords at
dinner, and in an officer’s diary of 1792 it appears that, on one
occasion, “One of our very best men, weighing twenty stone, found it so
inconvenient that he was allowed to dine without his sword, provided it
hung up immediately behind him.”
The tactical changes that had occurred up to 1793 were not numerous, at
least as far as Europe was concerned. The number of ranks was reduced
to three, and the battle formations were becoming more linear and less
heavily columnar. Minden, again, had shown again what resolute infantry
could do, and in that battle the effort to bring about a mutual
co-operation of the three arms to a common end is increasingly apparent.
But America had taught much. It is, perhaps, not too much to say that
the campaigns there had turned men’s minds in the direction of the
fighting of the future, the value of independent fire action, and--a
century before it was seriously organised--the value of mounted
infantry. Bunker’s Hill, and even Lexington, had borne grave testimony
to the value of fire action. Tarleton, in Carolina, with his mounted
troops from the old 63rd Regiment of the line, had proved conclusively
the value of a mobile infantry. It took long, doubtless, for these
ideas to bear fruit, but they did so in due course. The originally
mounted infantry man--the dragoon--had ceased to be. He had become part
of the cavalry of the time. He was to be revived, but not for another
hundred years, to do his original duty, that of a mounted man fighting
on foot, and then under another name.
Much besides had happened militarily in this period of the army’s
story besides the campaigns already referred to. The “Horse Guards”
as Army Headquarters had been so created in 1751. Light troops had
been added in 1755 to the dragoons, some of which were eventually
to come on the establishment, when amalgamated, as light cavalry
regiments; and about the same time second battalions were added to
existing regiments, and of these, fifteen, numbering from the 61st
to the 75th, commenced later on an independent existence. Many of
these had been raised for a campaign, disbanded, and re-formed more
than once. Thus the 73rd, formed as a second battalion to the 42nd
after the disaster of Ticonderoga, took that number in 1786, but it
had been held successively by a second battalion of the 34th, then by
the 116th and the present 71st. These sudden alterations of strength
in the Army List produced evils and suffering in every way. It was
stated in 1763, after the reduction, that there were upwards of 500
ex-officers in gaol for debt, because of want of employment. Most of
the regiments, both old and new, had flank companies of light infantry
and grenadiers, which were detached to form, for the time, separate
battalions during a campaign; and the former were the precursors of
the light infantry battalions of later years. The old force of Marines
was disbanded in 1748, to reappear seven years later as a more purely
naval force under the Admiralty, instead of being an army force, borne
on the military establishment, and lent, more or less, to the navy. The
Royal Artillery, first organised in a small way by Marlborough, had
become an independent body as far back as 1715, but it was not till
1743 it appeared on the estimates, nor until 1751 that officers were
commissioned. Similarly with the Royal Engineers. At first practically
civilians, military rank was not given them until 1757. The army was
growing up into a more complete machine.
[Illustration: _Fire Arms._
_Arquebus (Match Lock) 1537._
_Firelock (Wheel Lock) 1620._
_Musket (Brown Bess) 1800._
_Magazine B.L. (Lee-Metford) 1896._
_Plug-Bayonet._
_Socket-Bayonet._
_Modern Bayonet._]
There had been slight changes in the detail and colour of regimental
uniforms, but of no great moment. A black line or “worm” was added as
a border to the gold lace of the regiments that fought at Quebec, a
privilege asserted to be granted only when the commander-in-chief of an
army is killed in battle. But its true origin seems a mystery, for the
old 13th Foot is said to have been granted it after Culloden.
A curious system of regimental medals for merit depending on the length
of good and faithful service was introduced in 1767 by the 5th Foot.
Arms had changed but little, and the preparation of ammunition was
sufficiently primitive. Sergeants and corporals were directed to “carry
a mould to cast bullets, and a ladle to melt lead in, with three spare
powder horns and twelve bags for ball.” Meanwhile, too, the militia had
been more fully recognised as a second line for home defence; and about
1757 a practical conscription by ballot for this force was proposed,
and after much opposition carried in Parliament. During training they
were to be under the Mutiny Act and Articles of War. These latter,
drafted originally on the general’s own responsibility when conducting
a campaign, had been still reluctantly recognised by Parliament, and
in 1754 had been extended, with even greater reluctance, to the East
Indies and America. The old feeling of dread of independent governance
by officers was still alive, though beneath the surface of things.
As late as 1770, Beckford, Lord Mayor of London, remonstrated with
the Secretary of State for War because a detachment returning from
Spitalfields had marched past the Mansion House with drums beating,
“making a very warlike appearance, and raising in the minds of peaceful
citizens the idea of a town garrisoned with regular troops.” It is
curious to watch, in the army’s growth, how persistently the civil
mind was antagonistic to the force that had carried its name, its
reputation, and, soon, its trade to success and esteem. Yet Lord
Bavington had to accept the remonstrance, and assure the civic chief
that such should not occur again without his approval and approbation.
Only the 3rd Buffs, the Royal Marines, the Royal London Militia, and
the 3rd Grenadier Guards, because of their asserted origin from London
trained bands, can claim as a right the privilege of marching through
the city of London with fixed bayonets and colours flying.
The army meanwhile had been largely increased and as frequently
reduced. Many existing regiments have more than once borne other
numbers than those they at present possess, owing to these changes.
Thus in 1760 there were 100,000 armed men serving the State. Of these,
to give an idea of the distribution of regiments in those days, there
were in Great Britain 3 regiments of cavalry and 2 of infantry. In
Ireland, 3 of cavalry and 17 of infantry; in Gibraltar, 6 battalions;
in America and the West Indies 26 regiments of foot; in India 4; in
Africa 2, and in Jersey 1; while in Germany were 4 cavalry regiments
and 16 infantry battalions.
[Illustration: _Private 14^{th} Reg^{t} 1792_]
But despite all these changes the army had grown steadily. There were
practically now in the Army List, putting aside the Foot Guards and the
Household Cavalry, 77 battalions of the line, 7 regiments of Dragoon
Guards, and 17 other cavalry regiments which have survived until the
present day. The last three of the latter had been raised in 1759,
and the 17th, then commanded by Colonel Hale, who had been present
at Quebec, got the authority for the new regiment to carry on their
standards the Death’s Head, with the motto “Or glory,” whence comes
their sobriquet of the “Death or Glory Boys.” So the 15th, at first
light dragoons, had a curious origin, for present at the town where the
regiment was being raised were a large number of clothiers and tailors
who had come to present a petition. This they, however, abandoned, to
join the ranks of the new regiment; but if tailors, they were still
men, and performed prodigies of valour; so Granby said at Emsdorff in
1760.
The Dragoon Guards had originally been regiments of cavalry, or horse,
armed like the Household cavalry, and receiving a higher rate of pay
than the mere dragoon, who, essentially a mounted infantry soldier, and
armed at first with an infantry weapon, did not provide his own horse.
This, at first, the men in the regiments of “horse,” who were often the
sons of substantial farmers and small landowners, did. When, however,
the armament, equipment, and duties of both dragoon and horse were the
same, and when the mounts for both were provided by the State, and
the only difference was the rate of pay, amalgamation was inevitable.
Hence, in 1746, three of the seven regiments of horse then existing,
and in 1788 the remaining four were converted into Dragoon Guards, to
distinguish them from the mere dragoon, and the same rate of pay was
given to both branches.
But two marked changes had been made in regimental designations. Up to
1751 they had borne the name of their successive colonels, a method
both confusing in itself and lacking in that continuity of regimental
history which a number or a title bestows. In that year, numbers were
given to regiments of the line, and the seniority fixed by the date on
which they came on the English Establishment. Uniformity of uniform was
also settled, and facings directed to be worn. Finally, in 1787, county
titles were bestowed on regiments, the forerunner of the “territorial
system” that obtains now.
CHAPTER VIII
THE ARMY AT SEA--TO 1815
The history of the army in early days, and, in fact, up to the
termination of the long war with France, was intimately associated with
naval operations. This naturally arose from our insular situation; and
though at first English armies were largely employed in Continental
war only, the time came when it was evident that blows of greater
weight and greater political consequence could be aimed at an enemy’s
colonial empire than even in great Continental battles, which were
invariably fought with the assistance of allies. There was little
but barren honour to be got by such land campaigns; but the naval
operations were not only valuable as lessening an enemy’s prestige,
but also gave tangible rewards and results in prize-money for the men
and territory for the State. In no other way, in fact, could Great
Britain’s supremacy at sea be used with greater effect; and hence it
is that in the battle-roll of many an English regiment are names of
victories which are practically semi-naval affairs. In fact, the army
has in its time been largely employed as marines, doing their twofold
duty of in some cases acting as the ship’s guard, and at others that
of a force to be landed for active service and re-embarked when their
work was done. Hence, regiments, though on the strength of the army,
were often lent to the navy for such duty. Thus in 1664 was raised the
“Admiral’s Regiment,” for service in the Dutch war, and was really
the “_Old_ Buffs,” as this was the colour of their facings. Said to
be raised from the London trained bands, which at that time must
have formed a very good recruiting ground of drilled men, they in
all numbered nearly 10,000 men, each ward furnishing a certain fixed
proportion. But these early naval soldiers were practically regarded as
a mere nursery for the navy, and when they had qualified as “foremast
men,” they were drafted as seamen, and fresh levy-money granted for
recruits to take their place. On the cessation of the Dutch wars, the
regiment was disbanded, to reappear in 1684 again as an “Admiral’s
Regiment,” but with the imposing title of “H.R.H. the Duke of York and
Albany’s Maritime Regiment of Foot.” This was eventually incorporated
with the Coldstream Guards, the Holland Regiment, formed about the same
time, which had also sent some of its companies on naval duty, taking
its place on the list, and numbering eventually the 3rd Regiment of
the line, or “Old Buffs.” The second title was given from the colour
of the facings and _linings_ of their coats, and to it was added the
term “old” to distinguish them from the “Young Buffs,” the 31st,
which wore the same colour. Several other marine regiments were also
raised, but they successively disappeared or were incorporated with
other regiments. Naval operations themselves were also becoming more
extended, and large fleets, rather than a few isolated ships, were
beginning to push out, from the narrow offensive-defensive actions
in and about the Channel, to wider seas and with greater aims. All
this necessitated, if any impression was to be produced on the actual
coastal people and defences of an enemy, the employment of soldiers.
Not that the effect of local naval victories was less important in the
past any more than in the future. The naval battle of La Hogue was, in
a way, as effectual in checking invasion as was Trafalgar later. The
very extension of the naval war of 1694 to the Mediterranean gave an
opening for one of these maritime operations, of which the naval and
military annals were for more than a century to be full. The action
of the army as an irritant to the general body politic of the hostile
state with which we were at war was to be evidenced. Thus, in 1694,
the absence of the French fleet in the Mediterranean led to an effort
to damage the French arsenal at Brest, for which purpose a landing was
attempted in Camaret Bay, when twelve regiments of the line and two of
marines embarked under Talmash. Churchill was currently believed to
be the cause of the disaster which followed; for he is stated to have
communicated the intended surprise to King James in France, so that
when the expedition reached its destination, it was most vigorously
opposed, and the general with 700 men fell.
But in 1702, while six regiments were specially raised for sea service,
of which only three, the 30th, 31st, and 32nd, now remain, six other
battalions were lent from the regular army for naval duty. These were
the 6th, 19th, 20th, 34th, 35th, and 36th; and they returned to land
service in 1713, when the other three of the six marine battalions were
disbanded.
Again, in 1739 and 1749, ten other marine regiments were formed;
but these again were, according to the prevailing custom, done away
with when, in 1748, war for a time ceased. But these newer levies
were becoming more like true marines. They were to be quartered near
the Government dockyards. They were to assist in the fitting out of
ships as well as helping to man them. Other independent companies of
a similar character were also formed in America and the West Indies,
and many of these became absorbed in the ranks of the land forces; but
so close was the union between the sea and land regiments then, that
exchanges between the officers of both were permitted.
Up to this time, the sea service regiments had done good work. In 1702
eleven regiments of the line, of which the 2nd, 4th, 6th, 7th, and 32nd
still remain, with a battalion of Guards and some Dutch regiments, were
despatched to the Spanish coast. An attack was first made at Rota,
in the bay of Cadiz, which was captured, but abandoned; and then the
squadron moved to Vigo Bay, where the Spanish galleons, laden with
treasure and convoyed by a French fleet, had taken refuge. The entrance
was difficult and guarded with batteries, and with a boom “made up of
masts, yards, cables, top chains, and casks, about three yards in
circumference, but this, though three-quarters of a mile long, and
guarded at the ends by seventy-four-gun men-of-war, was broken by the
_Torbay_ of eighty guns, the other ships following, while the troops
landed, stormed, and silenced the shore batteries at the Rhondella,
and this with little loss. The booty amounted to 20,000,000 pieces
of eight, and an equally valuable amount of merchandise, of which
14,000,000 pieces were saved, and about £50,000,000 worth of stores;
while 4,000,000 pieces of plate and ten of merchandise were lost.”[28]
But the most noteworthy event of these times was the capture and
retention in 1704 of Gibraltar, in which the 30th, 31st, and 32nd
Regiments, serving as marines at first in Sir Cloudesley Shovel’s
fleet, bore a gallant part. This is the early history of one of our
proudest possessions, even if it be not as valuable strategically now
as it was when the century was young.
Whoever the primæval inhabitants of “the Rock” may have been, and
their skulls and bones found in the stalagmitic limestone of the
caves show they were of no high class but merely cave-dwellers, they
were followed, somewhere about the eighth century, by the Moors. This
curious wave of invasion from the East seems to have simply skirted
the northern parts of Africa, until it reached what is now Algeria.
It never penetrated far south, and yet it represents one of the few
traces of civilisation in the dark continent. Most curious of all is
it that African aborigines have done so little for themselves. All
the civilising waves have been immigrant, from those who built the
dead cities of Mashonaland to the men who have made Buluwayo. Such
civilisation as North Africa possesses has been wholly of foreign
origin. The negro race has done nothing worth mentioning, and it may
well be believed, after the experience of Liberia, never will. So that
the Arab invasion sought for other outlets for its expansion than the
warmer clime of Mid or Central Africa. Reaching Algiers, Tarik the
Conqueror passed across the straits to the peninsula of Gibraltar,
and built there, somewhere about 725, a castle of which the existing
Moorish tower may be a relic. It remained in Mohammedan hands for seven
hundred and forty-eight years, and then, captured by the Spaniards, was
remodelled, the “Gebel al Tarik” becoming Christian “Gibraltar.” Its
present arms, a castle with a key pendent at the gate, granted by Henry
IV. of Castile, refer to its condition as a fortress once the key to
the Mediterranean, but now, with the improvements in the range and size
of modern guns, of less value than heretofore.
In 1704 the place was but feebly garrisoned, and fell mainly owing to
the silencing of the batteries by the squadron and their occupation
then by seamen landed from the ships. The troops, under the Prince of
Hesse Darmstadt, meanwhile occupied the isthmus until the fortress
surrendered. So important a capture was not likely to be agreed to
without a further struggle, and in 1705 the Marquis de Villadarius was
despatched to formally besiege it. The garrison, however, had been
reinforced by the 13th and 35th Regiments, a battalion of Guards, and
some Dutch troops, and though several gallant efforts were made to
carry the place by assault they successively failed, and after seven
months the siege was abandoned and converted into a partial blockade.
It had cost the Spaniards and French some 10,000 men, but the garrison
lost only some 400.
For more than twenty years the British flag flew unmolested from the
“Rock.” But, in 1727, Spain made a more determined attempt to regain
her lost possession. The strength of the fortress had been increased
since the previous siege, but the armament was indifferent, many of
the guns being so honeycombed as to be liable to burst on the first
fire, and at least a hundred of them were so destroyed during the
coming siege. But the command of the sea, and the presence of Hopson’s
powerful fleet, prevented stores reaching the Spanish army save by
land, and reinforcements, composed of the Edinburgh Regiment, the 35th,
some Engineer and Artillery officers and men, as well as, later on,
another line battalion and one of the Guards, were despatched to the
aid of the beleaguered fortress. So again, after a tedious four months,
during which time about 3000 of the enemy and 300 of the garrison had
fallen, a suspension of hostilities was agreed to, and followed by a
treaty of peace.
But the last and most sustained attack upon the place was made during
the years 1781-83. Great Britain had been somewhat occupied, since
1775 and before, with warlike operations on the American Continent,
and needed much of her naval strength to cope with French fleets and
American corsairs, let alone to protect in addition her home waters.
The entry of Spain into the arena intensified her difficulties; and,
as might be expected, the great dream of the new enemy was to seize
the opportunity of England’s difficulty and repossess herself of the
key to the Straits. There was a strong French fleet cruising off Cape
Finisterre in 1779, and a Spanish one in Cadiz Bay, either of which
could spare a sufficiently powerful blockading squadron without risk.
So that, by the middle of August 1779, the place was closely invested
by a Spanish army at San Roque, and a fleet of four ships, five xebecs,
and numerous “row-galleys” in the bay; and preparations were made for
the capture of Gibraltar by a formal siege, trenches, parallels, and
siege batteries being carefully and laboriously constructed.
The fortress was commanded by that gallant “Cock of the Rock,” George
Augustus Elliot. His garrison consisted of the 12th, 39th, 56th, and
58th Regiments, the old 72nd, or Royal Manchester Volunteers, disbanded
in 1783, three Hanoverian regiments, and a company of Engineers.
The strength of the place had been greatly increased, especially on
the side facing the isthmus and Spain. Powerful batteries had been
erected there, and galleries with portholes for guns had been hewn
out of the solid rock. It was deemed impregnable in those days. It
was thought that “No power whatever can take that place, unless a
plague, pestilence, or famine, or the want of ordnance, musketry, and
ammunition, or some unforeseen stroke of Providence should happen.”
Throughout 1779 the place was simply blockaded, and there was little
firing on either side. But provisions ran short. General Elliot himself
tested practically that it was just possible to exist on four ounces
of rice a day! The arrival of Sir George Rodney’s fleet early in 1780,
after the destruction of a Spanish squadron off Cape St. Vincent, was
therefore joyfully welcomed. It reprovisioned the fortress, removed
the women, children, and invalids, and strengthened the garrison by a
strong battalion of Highlanders, then numbered the 73rd, but now the
71st Highland Light Infantry. But by March 1781 the stores again began
to fail, and soldiers were directed to economise flour and go with
unpowdered hair; and a cargo of potatoes “run” by a polacca fetched £7,
10s. 6d. a hundred-weight.
The Spanish batteries, being complete and fully armed, opened a
tremendous fire. Far from discouraging the garrison, they replied
to it vigorously, though inferior in number of guns, and, more than
that, executed a most brilliant sortie, storming the siege works and
trenches, and setting fire to all the combustible material, doing
damage, it was said, to the tune of £2,000,000, and that with a loss of
but four killed and twenty-five wounded.
In second line to the 12th, 39th, 72nd, 73rd, etc., who led the
assault, were the 39th and 58th Regiments, commanded by General Picton,
the uncle of the Peninsular hero. Finally, the continuous bombardment,
broken only by the diversion effected by a British squadron conveying
the 25th and 39th Regiments, culminated, on the 13th September 1782, in
a desperate attack both by sea and land. Specially constructed floating
batteries, the sides of which were formed of timber with wet sand
between, took part in the bombardment, when some 400 guns were hurling
their projectiles into Gibraltar. But it was of no avail: the vessels
were disabled and many burned. From the eighty cannon, with some
mortars and howitzers, which formed the artillery of the defence, more
than 8000 rounds were sent in reply, and quite one-half of them were
red-hot shot.
So the attempt failed, and though the fire was steadily continued,
the attack was practically exhausted; and the preliminaries of peace,
signed in February 1783, were welcomed by all. The famous siege had
lasted three years, seven months, and twelve days. The loss suffered by
the garrison amounted to 1231 men, and 205,328 shot were fired during
that time.
But other regiments embarked for local or special service were also
meanwhile earning naval honours for the army. The 6th Regiment showed
conspicuous gallantry in the attack on Fort Monjuich at Barcelona. The
6th, 9th, 11th, 17th, 33rd, and 36th Regiments also served at Almanza
in 1707, and the 6th also at Saragossa; while nothing can exceed the
gallantry of the defence of the Castle of Alicante by a regiment now
disbanded, when the officers refused to surrender, and drank the health
of good Queen Anne in a bastion over the mine that a few minutes later
blew the castle nearly in pieces!
Again, in the melancholy expedition to the Spanish Main in 1740-41, the
6th, 15th, 16th, and 36th Regiments served; and the 6th, especially,
suffered so terribly from fever at Jamaica in 1742 that when it
returned home it had, from this and other causes, only eighteen men
left of the eight hundred who sailed from England. The expedition,
including the abortive attacks on Cuba and Carthagena, was throughout
conducted in such a way as to be fruitless of result, and is noteworthy
as a rare event in such expeditions, for the want of cordial
co-operation between the naval and military commanders.
In 1746 the Royal Scots, 15th, 28th, 30th, 39th, and 42nd were embarked
under General Sinclair to destroy Port L’Orient, but beyond a feeble
bombardment little was done, and the army re-embarked to make a similar
abortive attempt at Quiberon Bay. Similarly, the 30th fought in the
naval action of Finisterre as marines (in addition of course to those
troops that had been definitely enlisted for sea service), and received
the thanks of the Admiral for their general behaviour. At that time the
proportion of marines embarked in vessels of war was one man per gun;
a fifty-gun frigate carrying therefore fifty men.
At the outbreak of hostilities in 1739-40, six regiments had been
raised for sea service, and two years later four were added (numbering
from the 44th to the 53rd inclusive though still bearing the names of
their colonels); but all these ten regiments were disbanded in 1740,
and with them the principle of lending line battalions to the fleet,
except in 1741, practically ceased. For in 1755 fifty companies of true
Marines were raised, who were to be placed on the strength of the navy
and put under the definite command of the naval authorities. At this
time the army had been reduced to forty-nine line battalions, so the
newly raised Marine corps took rank after that regiment when serving
with the land forces, and the 52nd Foot, raised in 1755, became the
50th two years later. It is curious to note here, again, how frequently
the number had changed. The first “Fiftieth” was “Shirley’s American
Provincials” formed in 1745, which received its number in 1754 and was
disbanded in 1757.
From this time forward, then, the land forces were only on occasional
emergencies lent to naval squadrons for sea duty. That was to be
carried out by the newly formed Marine companies, which, since their
reorganisation in 1755, have continued as a military force paid by the
navy, and not as a body lent when the occasion arose to the army. Thus
its duties are twofold, as in one respect its superiors are. When borne
on the books of a vessel of war, the Royal Marine is under the Naval
Discipline Act, and subject to the supreme authority of the Admiral
commanding the fleet. On shore he is liable to the provisions of the
Army Act, and owes allegiance to the officer commanding the garrison
in which he happens to be stationed. Employed, therefore, ashore as
well as afloat, the history of the Royal Marines is that of both the
army and the navy. Between their employment at Cork in 1690 and the
cessation of the long war in 1815, the services of marine soldiers are
mentioned in 369 naval actions and 169 coast operations and campaigns.
This does not include numerous small “affairs” in which lives were
lost. Between 1827 and the present date, again, there are more than
thirty battles and campaigns in which they have taken part, and this
list does not enter into details. So wide a story as theirs is that
of the army itself almost, and extends far beyond the limits of these
pages. But, briefly summarising the history, it may be said that the
first fifty companies of a hundred men each were first formed into
three divisions at Chatham, Portsmouth, and Plymouth, and to that,
later, was added one at Woolwich, which was disestablished, the depôt
at Walmer taking its place. Its badge, “the Globe,” with the motto,
“_Per mare, per terram_,” were granted in 1760, “for special service
during the war”; the title “Royal,” when the facings were changed from
white to blue, was granted in 1802, “for its many and varied services”;
and in 1827 George IV. added the laurel wreath to the globe, as well as
“Gibraltar” and the royal cipher, to mark its gallantry in the defence
of the fortress and “as the most appropriate emblem of a corps whose
duties carried them to all parts of the globe, in every quarter of
which they had earned laurels by their valour and good conduct.” The
designation “Light Infantry” was bestowed after 1855.
To the light infantry companies were added, in 1804, artillery
companies, which were formed into a distinct body, “the Royal Marine
Artillery,” in 1860.
Some of the Marine regimental records are interesting as showing
the inner life of the sea, or even land, soldier a hundred years
ago. In the tailor’s shop in 1755, for example, the idea of an eight
hours’ working day was evidently not a burning question; for the men
worked from 4 a.m. to 8 p.m., with _one_ hour only for meals. Again,
punishments were severe, as the sentences passed on three deserters in
1766 shows; for while one was shot, the other two were to receive a
thousand and five hundred lashes respectively. In 1755 two “private men
absent from exercise” were “to be tyed neck and heels on the Hoe half
an hour”; while thirteen years later, a sergeant, for taking “coals and
two poles” from the dockyard, was sentenced to five hundred lashes,
and to be “drummed out with a halter round his neck,” after, of course,
being reduced to the ranks.
None the less, these were the men who fought the battles of the crown
in the eighteenth century; and perhaps of all their exploits, that of
the “Diamond Rock,” in 1804, is best worth noting. The rock lies near
Cape Diamond, and is described by Davenant as “a rough-looking place,
with little that was inviting about it--a great firm rock, the highest
point of which might be something over 500 feet above the level of the
sea, the circumference of it less than a mile, and in its shape not at
all unlike a haystack. On the west side there were bold, rugged cliffs,
precipitous, sheer up and down walls, seeming as though they would
defy all approach to them; and the roar of the surf beating against
the base of them was distinctly audible at the distance of a mile. Yet
here was the only place where a landing could be effected. The other
three sides of the Diamond Rock were simply inaccessible, presenting a
perpendicular face from within a few feet of the summit. On the whole,
it looked uncommonly like a _noli me tangere_ sort of place, reminding
me of Lundy Island in the British Channel, where, as old Holinshed
quaintly says, ‘there is no entrance but for friends single and able.’”
Its position was such that vessels passing between it and the shore
in those days of sailing ships were often able to escape pursuit; so,
to prevent this, the rock was garrisoned by Lieutenant Maurice and a
hundred and twenty marines and seamen, who for five months garrisoned
the place, and which, during that time, appeared in the estimates as
“His Majesty’s sloop of war, Diamond Rock”! So much trouble did the
garrison give the French, that a squadron of five ships was despatched
to capture it, but all attempts failed, until want of ammunition and
provisions led to its exhaustion. Even when compelled to capitulate,
however, the small detachment made such terms that the British flag was
not to be hauled down until the garrison had reached the ships, the men
were to be permitted to wear their side arms, and were to be sent under
a flag of truce to Barbadoes.
A more extraordinary instance of coolness and bravery is not to be
found in any page of our national history; and the Marine service
has always been popular, for what was stated in 1775 is equally true
now, that “the Marines recruited better in every part of the island
[of Great Britain] than the line.” But, putting aside the operations
undertaken solely by the marine, the soldier acting temporarily as
such, or the bluejacket, there were many others in which the army
shared, though they do not form part of a connected series of battles
such as characterise more serious campaigns. They partake rather of
the nature of naval raids for the specific annoyance of the enemy,
or attempts at the actual capture of his outlying possessions. They
are individually interesting in many ways, but it would be impossible
to do more than tabulate them more or less in order of occurrence,
emphasising only the share the army took in them. Practically ships of
war either conveyed the soldiers as transports for the required duty,
or themselves formed the escort and guard of the convoy of transports
which accompanied the battleships, and for the time being formed part
of the armada.
Thus, when the Seven Years’ War broke out, the attention of the French
was directed towards Minorca, which, captured in 1708 by Stanhope,
was regarded as only second in importance to Gibraltar for a naval
power having interests in the Mediterranean. Its capture was the
first appearance of England as a naval power possessing a naval base
in that closed sea. It was garrisoned by the 4th, 23rd, 24th, and
34th Regiments; and, unrelieved by Admiral Byng’s fleet, on whose
co-operation alone was it possible for the defender to hold out, its
commandant, Blakeney, was compelled to surrender in 1755, though the
troops behaved with such gallantry after the terrible bombardment,
with numerical odds against them of some 20,000 to 3000, that they
were allowed to march out with drums beating and colours flying, with
all the honours of war. The siege had lasted from May to July. It is
a noteworthy instance of the absolute importance of a most full and
cordial co-operation between the naval and military commanders in cases
such as these, when the army, cut from its home base, is dependent on
the navy for its line of communications. In the future, without full
command of the sea, isolated posts and coaling stations will be always
at the mercy of bold and skilful raids, unless powerfully armed and
sufficiently garrisoned.
Minorca was restored to the British flag in 1763, and eighteen years
later had to undergo a second siege by the French under Crillon, when,
at the end, the governor, out of 660, had 560 on the sick list against
14,000 besiegers, and for the second time the fortress capitulated.
It was taken for the third and last time by General Stuart (with the
8th and 42nd) in 1798, of whom it was said that no man could “manage
Frenchmen like him, and the British will go to h--ll for him.” Little
resistance was made, and the number of the prisoners exceeded that of
the invaders. It was ceded finally to Spain in 1802.
In 1758 a force was despatched to destroy the shipping at St. Malo,
and to capture Cherbourg, both of which affairs were successfully
conducted, the docks being blown up, and the brass cannon captured
taken in triumph through the streets of London; but success in these
somewhat pitiful operations was to receive a rude check, for a third
landing in the bay of St. Cas was conducted with such contempt for all
military precautions, that the force, on re-embarking, was heavily
beaten by the French, and while many boats were sunk by the fire of
artillery, some forty-six officers and eight hundred men were left
prisoners in the hands of the enemy.
In 1759 the first serious attempts at extending our power over the
West Indies began; as did the first serious effort for the conquest of
Canada, the main action in which was the gallant capture of Quebec.
An expedition, in which the 3rd, 4th, 61st, 63rd, 64th, 65th, some
marines, and a second battalion of the 42nd, raised readily and rapidly
to avenge the loss of the first battalion at Ticonderoga the previous
year, took part, was therefore despatched under General Hopson, and
though they failed at Martinique, they succeeded, after much toil
and privation for three months, during which the climate was a more
deadly foe than the French, at Guadaloupe. Similarly, two years later,
while one force was sent to harass the French coast and destroy the
harbours of refuge for French privateers, and suchlike, on the island
of Belleisle in the Bay of Biscay, a success in which the 3rd, 9th,
19th, 21st, 25th, 37th, 61st, etc., Regiments shared, and where Private
Samuel Johnson, though severely wounded, distinguished himself by
killing six men in the defence of his wounded officer; another army
composed of the 1st, 17th, and 22nd Foot completed the capture of the
Caribbean Sea Colonies by the occupation of Dominica, Martinique, St.
Vincent, and St. Lucia. When Spain, too, joined the enemies of Great
Britain in 1762, and it was found impracticable to land an army on the
Continent, it was none the less clearly evident that decisive blows
could be struck against her in other parts of the world.
In the far East was Manila, which since 1564 had been her undisturbed
possession. But the old 79th from Madras, with some other troops,
marines and sailors, gave a “good account of it,” and 9 colours and 536
guns were taken with the fortress, though “the front we were obliged to
attack was defended by the bastions of St. Diego and St. Andrew, with
orillons and retired flanks, a ravelin which covered the royal gate,
a wet ditch, covered way, and glacis,” and the attacking force was
totally inadequate to attempt the full investment of the place.
But this was not the only material gain. A still more important
expedition was despatched to the West Indies to take Havannah. The
troops embarked were the 1st, 9th, 22nd, 34th, 40th, 42nd, 56th, 72nd,
90th, and others, and there, after much hard fighting and considerable
hardships, during which at one time over 5000 men were on the sick
list, effected the storm of the Moro Castle and the place. Great indeed
was the prize. Nine sail of the line were taken in the harbour, 361
guns on the fortifications, and treasure valued at nearly £3,000,000
sterling. The Commander-in-chief’s share amounted to £122,697, but poor
“Thomas Atkins,” who had borne even more the burden and heat of the
day, got but £4 odd!
Still these two great captures were the most important effected during
the whole war, and the combined army and navy had, both in the East and
West, as fully “singed the King of Spain’s beard” as did Drake some two
hundred years before.
So again (and it is curious to see how little was known beforehand in
those days of an enemy’s probable movements), the French fitted out
a squadron at Brest and recaptured Newfoundland; but they only held
it for a short time, as the fleet sailed away, as Byng’s did, without
supporting the troops on shore, and the 45th and 77th re-took and
garrisoned St. John’s.
For nearly twenty years there is little to record as regards these
isolated affairs; but in 1779 the French took St. Vincent, Granada,
the small garrison of the latter place having been surprised in the
dark by some of the Irish Brigade, who, “by speaking the same language,
were admitted into the entrenchments as friends,” and “immediately
overpowered our troops by numbers;”[29] and in the naval actions that
accompanied the closing scenes of the American War of Independence, the
4th and 46th again served as marines in Admiral Byron’s squadron, as
did, in 1780, some of the 5th in Rodney’s fleet.
One romantic story of the army of this time found its conclusion
at Gibraltar. Many years before, a certain Maria Knowles, a tall,
handsome Cheshire girl, fell in love at Warrington Market with a
certain Sergeant Cliff of the Guards, who was on recruiting duty.
When he returned to his regiment, the girl ran away and enlisted in
the same regiment as the man she loved, but who does not appear up to
that time to have reciprocated her passion. She accompanied a draft
to Holland, fought in several engagements in Flanders, and, on being
desperately wounded at Dunkirk, the secret of her sex was discovered.
On recovering, she was induced to divulge the reasons for her action,
and the officers provided them with a handsome subscription, and the
chaplain of the 66th married them. Later on, he was promoted adjutant
of the 66th, and died at Gibraltar, whence his widow, with one son,
returned to England in 1798.
The outbreak of the French Revolution, and the beginning of the long
war with France, led to a resumption of these combined operations.
Thus, in 1794, Paoli, a Corsican patriot, determined on throwing off
the French yoke, and for this purpose invited England’s co-operation.
Curiously enough, against him fought a young artillery officer, one
Napoleon Bonaparte. The force was composed of the 1st, 11th, 18th,
25th, 30th, 50th, 51st, and 69th Regiments, and the 12th Light Dragoon
Regiment, under Colonel, afterwards Sir John, Moore; and it seems
strange to read now that when resistance ceased, a “Te Deum” was sung
in the Cathedral of Bastia, and prayers were read for “George III.,
King of Great Britain and Corsica”! Some of the 12th were employed at
Civita Vecchia, and so good was their conduct that the Pope Pius VI.
presented each of the twelve officers with a gold medal. In due course
Corsica was resigned to native hands, without any attempt or desire on
the part of Great Britain to retain it. In these years, too, Tobago,
St. Pierre, and Miquelon were captured; and the 13th, with some of
the 49th, assisted at the capture of St. Domingo. Martinique was also
taken, and the 1st and 3rd Regiments shared in the operation. Cape
St. Vincent, on the 14th February 1797, saw not only the brilliant
victory of Admiral Jervis over the Spanish fleet, but the gallant
boarding of the _San Nicolas_ by the seamen and some of the 69th,
who acted as marines under Lieutenant Charles Pierson. For while the
officer commanding dropped on to the deck of the enemy’s ship from
the spritsail yard, a private of the 69th dashed in the window of the
quarter gallery from the fore chain of the _Captain_, and led the
boarding column.
The year following a brilliant dash was made with the object of
damaging Ostend, and, like many others of these harassing and
essentially useless debarkations, it did much damage; but, failing to
be able to re-embark, the assailants were compelled to surrender. The
force was but 1200 strong all told, with 6 guns, and was made up of
detachments of the Guards, 11th, 23rd, and 49th Foot, and a few men of
the 17th Light Dragoons under General Coote.
Similarly useless and disastrous was the abortive passage of the
Dardanelles in 1807, which was followed by a feeble descent on Egypt,
in pursuance of the idea, this time, of harassing the Turk. But the
army was too weak to effect any real annoyance, and the 35th, 78th, and
31st sacrificed useless lives at Rosetta and El Hamet, the detachment
of the 78th being surrounded and losing 260 men out of 275. Several of
the men became leaders in the Turkish army, and one Scottish drummer
boy was until recently still living, the last survivor of General
Fraser’s small command.
But there were two incidents in these times that are worth recording,
those of the first attempts against South America at Buenos Ayres and
Monte Video, and the successive operations that led to the conversion
of the Cape of Good Hope into an English colony. Beginning with the
latter, it will be remembered that it was first taken possession of
in 1795, with the consent of the Prince of Orange, but contrary to
the desire, apparently, of the colonists, who resisted the attempt
to occupy a position at Simon’s Bay held by the 78th and some
marines; but when reinforced by the 84th, 95th, and 98th Regiments,
an advance was made on Wynberg, where, after a slight skirmish, the
inhabitants surrendered. In the same year a number of other small
Dutch possessions, including Colombo, fell into English hands. The
Cape was resigned in 1801 by the treaty of Amiens; but the alliance
between the French and Dutch led to the assembling of an expedition
for its recapture, in which a Highland brigade, the 71st, 72nd, and
93rd Regiments, a brigade composed of the 24th, 38th, 59th, and 83rd
Regiments, with the 20th Light Dragoons, and one field battery with two
howitzers, took part. The resistance was most feeble, and the enemy,
though armed with nineteen cannon, barely awaited the attack of even
the Highland brigade.
A number of the natives there were later formed into a regiment by
Colonel Graham, and these were the forerunners of the Cape Mounted
Rifles, a force which has done good service in Kaffir wars since. In
connection with this conquest, so important in the expansion of our
Eastern Empire, may also be recorded the capture, in 1810, of Mauritius
from France, and Java from the Dutch, in which the 12th, 19th, 22nd,
65th, 84th, and 89th, under Abercrombie, and the 14th, 59th, 69th,
78th, and 89th, under Auchmuty, took an active part. Their capture
freed those seas from the Dutch and French privateers, and secured our
trade route with Calcutta.
The want of employment militarily, in South Africa, led to the
transference of the theatre of war to South America. In 1806, a small
force of dragoons, marines, and the 71st Foot occupied Buenos Ayres
with scarcely any opposition, but the Spanish afterwards assembled in
some strength, and compelled General Carr Beresford to capitulate.
Measures were at once taken to remedy this disaster. Colonel Vassall
of the 38th, and Colonel Backhouse, with the 43th, occupied the island
of Maldonado, which commanded the harbour of the same name, and, after
storming the batteries, furnished a safe and protected anchorage for
the fleet, which, with General Auchmuty, and the 38th, 40th, 47th,
87th, a company of the 71st, the 93rd, some marines, and the 17th Light
Dragoons, was on the way from England. The enemy were defeated outside
the town of Monte Video, when the advance was made from Maldonado,
but the further effort to penetrate into the city, through a breach
made by a few light guns, met with the most determined resistance,
and the assault of the “Gibraltar of America” cost some 600 officers
and men out of the 1200 who formed the column of assault, among whom
was Colonel Vassall, who had won the affectionate regard of the 38th
Regiment, which he commanded. So much so was this the case, that it is
said that when the regiment returned home and was stationed in Ireland,
a publican “realised a little fortune by simply hoisting as his sign
the effigies of the colonel,” and the “Vassall Arms” were as popular
there as was the name of the “Marquis of Granby,” Dorking, in former
years.[30]
The capture was some consolation for the loss of Buenos Ayres, and
Auchmuty’s success led to the hope that our disaster there might be
avenged. So it might, possibly, had that general retained command;
but the army was to be placed under that of General Whitelock, who
was reinforced by General Crawford from the Cape with the 5th, 36th,
45th, 88th, the Rifles, some artillery, and the 6th Dragoon Guards.
A more extraordinary exhibition of want of judgment on the part of a
general in command has rarely been witnessed. Throughout the previous
operations, both of Beresford and Auchmuty, there had been no trace of
want of fighting power on the part of the enemy. But everything now
seems to have been left to guess. Reconnaissance was ignored, though
General Beresford had escaped from the town and, joining his chief,
could have given him the fullest information. The possible nature of
the defence with flat-roofed houses, each of which, defended by its
owner and his negroes, became a fortress; deep ditches and barricades
formed across the streets; stout buildings stoutly held; grape-loaded
guns entrenched to sweep the avenue; were so little imagined, that
“from motives of humanity”--Heaven save the mark!--many of the men’s
arms were unloaded, and others not provided with flints or even
locks,[31] lest they should “fire wantonly on the inhabitants.”
Doubtless this was much exaggerated, but there is no doubt that the
muskets were generally empty. The strong force of artillery captured
at Monte Video was not used at all, when a steady bombardment before
any attempt at assault or penetration into the town would have been of
the highest value. Yet, hemmed in and helpless as the columns were,
their bravery and steadfastness stand out in brilliant contrast to the
culpable and idiotic folly of their most incompetent generals. The
88th especially distinguished themselves, and one portion of the army
was compelled to surrender, having fired its last cartridge, while
Crawford, hemmed in on all sides, had to lay down his arms too. When
Whitelock finally agreed to withdraw, having lost 2500 men, according
to his despatch, he surrendered Monte Video as well, and on his return
to England was justly court-martialled. He was found guilty, and was
cashiered, and so much was his name held in detestation by the people,
that when, in 1830, he asked the landlord of the Somersetshire inn in
which he was staying, to drink with him, the man, when he knew who his
guest was, refused to “drink another glass with him,” at the same time
throwing down the price of the bottle, that he might not be indebted to
the cashiered general.
The first efforts at conquest on the South American mainland had met
with little save disaster and disappointment, and were absolutely
barren of result. Our other possessions on that continent were gained,
not by hard fighting there, but by treaties dependent on hard fighting
elsewhere. Both British Guiana and Honduras saw no battles fought on
their soil by British soldiers. The former, captured in 1796, was
confirmed to the English rule in 1814; the latter became a crown colony
in 1867.
Thus, though many of these expeditions rather partook of the nature of
filibustering raids than real war, they none the less are interesting
as showing the gradual extension of military operations beyond the
main theatre of war. In many cases, doubtless, as in the landing on
the French coast, no real benefit was derived from them, and they
only tended to exasperate and embitter a contest that already was
sufficiently imbued with these feelings. They brought the horrors of
war on defenceless people, as well as on the enemy’s military and naval
resources. In so doing they harassed and annoyed, and to some extent
lent their aid to the otherwise needless dispersion of the enemy’s
troops; but such deeds only lead to reprisals, and, like killing
individual soldiers on outpost duty, have little real effect on the
conduct or result of a campaign.
Still there were many cases in which the semi-naval operations were
of supreme value to a great naval power. The true outlet for a
vigorous nation’s natural expansion is its colonies. Shorn of these,
in many instances the parent country loses its most vital limbs, with
increasing injury to the main trunk. Morally, as well as politically,
the loss of colonial empire gravely affects the mother country. The
loss of the American States to England long lowered her prestige in the
eyes of Europe, and for a time led nations to think her end as a great
power had come. The dropping away from Spain and Portugal of those vast
colonies which owe their origin and existence to the energy of the
people of those countries in the past, have left the mother countries
far behind in the race, low down in the political scale of Europe.
Hence the conquest of French and Spanish colonies in this prolonged
war was not only a serious loss to the States concerned, but an
important element of strength to the power that first of all effected
the conquest, and then was strong enough to hold them. No doubt, in
days when steam and telegraph were not, the element of secrecy entered
largely into the calculation of how these attacks could be successfully
planned and executed. It was possible then to attempt what now would be
far more risky, because foreseen. “To be forewarned” is more than even
“to be forearmed” in these modern days.
But, in addition, there is one other point to be considered in thinking
of what was done in past wars, and so examining if similar things
could be done in the future. Would the bombardment of open, or feebly
defended, coast towns be permitted? Would that old “harassing” side
of war, without any other end beyond that of harassing, be considered
justifiable now? There is a certain _general_ and no longer _local_
public opinion to be considered nowadays, and much that was done when
the nineteenth century was young will be very possibly looked on as
barbarous and unnecessary when another century dawns.
Lastly, the means of local defence have also largely increased. It is
common to see, as at Havana, how frequently forts and batteries were
fully silenced by the fire from the fleet, whose guns were certainly
not of great power. But coast batteries are now more scientifically
and powerfully built, and mount guns quite as formidable, if not more
so, than battleships can carry. Ranges are greater, and the accuracy
of fire enormously improved, and ground mines and active torpedoes
can make situations, whence fleets could formerly best act, too
dangerous now to be occupied at all. Quick-firing and machine guns,
repeating rifles, and what not, will render boat operations practically
impossible, except at night. Such landings as those at Aboukir Bay,
etc., should be now out of the question. It may safely be surmised that
the class of operations referred to in this chapter will be less easy
of execution in the future than when Guadaloupe was taken.
But one thing is clearly apparent in watching the story of this
combination of military and naval war. It was only as England began
to feel her strength, and, by increasing her squadrons, to have the
power of showing it, that she really began to grow to greatness. At
first the wars were local and somewhat restricted on shore, as were the
actions of the fleets. But the desire to get at France and Spain on
both sides, or all along their coast lines, led, instinctively almost,
to the capture of Gibraltar, the gateway to the Mediterranean, and next
to seize Minorca, as she did later Malta, and then Cyprus, as a base of
operations for her naval strength. Such harbours or bases are needful
always for rest, refitting, reprovisioning, and, _now_, recoaling. No
such fortified place is by itself a menace; it is only the basis of
that active menace, the sea-going fleet of battleships. Neither Malta
nor Biserta would in the least affect the destinies of the world unless
behind the shelter of their defensive works was a sea-going fleet
capable of offensive action. The defence of the fortress is purely
passive; the defence power of the fleet is, like that of cavalry,
either active or nothing. This in the last century was the use of
Minorca.
So, with the extension of the idea, the growing size of the fleet,
came greater ideas of expansion and greater powers of carrying it
out. Success had produced confidence. Confidence had created greater
boldness. Commerce had increased, and continued to increase, despite
the continuous wars. Though the loss of ships was terrible, the
merchant navy still went forth bravely upon the seas. Merchant princes
must have had calm, philosophical heads to have recognised, as they
must have done, an almost certain percentage of serious loss of both
ship and cargo. Such loss was to be risked from the mouth of the Thames
to the mouth of the Hudson, and yet still the traders sought the open
sea. Is such a spirit alive now, or is the commercial dread of loss
in the end of the nineteenth century greater than the commercial
fearlessness of the early part of it? That only the next war can prove.
But the next stage in the national growth which is clear in these
bygone days, is that commercial expansion led to bold enterprises
against the enemy’s colonies, on which his commerce much depended.
It was so with the expansion of the Indian Empire on the one hand, and
the American Empire, after the conquest of Canada from the French,
on the other. Both led to yet another idea, of which earlier history
could show no trace. The connection between these growing empires
and the mother country was becoming increasingly important, and so
remained until they were self-supporting or self-dependent. With
British India, then a mere spot on the peninsula of Hindustan, it was
to home and England only that she could look for everything. Until the
vast territories along the banks of the Potomac, the Hudson, or the
Ohio had been subdued and become populous, only the mother country
could be of use to help her struggling Western children in their early
youth. To guard the roads by which this necessary help must come was
all-important then, as it is now with such of our dependencies as have
not grown up to that national manhood which means independence of all
maternal support.
Hence, then, the natural and instinctive desire to possess the Cape of
Good Hope. None saw then that there were other advantages and channels
of expansion, besides the Cape itself, to be gained in the “Hinterland”
to those unknown but reported “Mountains of the Moon.” It was only as
being a port on the road to India, in those days, that made the Cape
valuable, and for a very simple reason. Ships, like men, require stores
and food. Supplies run short, sails are destroyed, boats swept away.
These calling places are to the navy what “the Stores” are to the
individual; and if access to such places were denied, the ship and the
individual would suffer. A hostile Table Bay or Simon’s Bay would have
meant, in those days, no house of call between St. Helena and Bombay!
Therefore it is so interesting to watch this gradual expansion of the
national idea of empire based entirely, instinctively, and rightly
on the colonies we were founding. The whole “earth hunger” of Great
Britain, if viewed in its natural light, is the opening of new lands
for trade, the extension of colonial empire by true colonists, men who
mean to make the new realm their permanent home, and the preserving
intact, with a good series of supply stations along these unmarked
ways, the roads that unite Great Britain with her colonial children.
* * * * *
Brave and gallant as had been the conduct of soldiers on board ship,
whether acting as marines afloat or as landed parties, there are other
instances of skill and courage equally well worth recording.
In 1852 the _Birkenhead_ transport was on its way to India, with drafts
of the 12th Lancers, and of the 2nd, 6th, 12th, 43rd, 45th, 60th,
73rd, 74th, and 91st Regiments, under the command of Colonel Seton,
and, entering Simon’s Bay, struck on a sunken rock, and began to fill.
She was ill provided with boats, for there was scarcely sufficient
accommodation for the women and children, let alone the crew or the
gallant representatives of the army, and the harbour swarmed with
sharks. But the noble spirit of duty, that fearlessness of death and
danger which all brave men have and which discipline intensifies, was
never shown more grandly than in this moment of supreme peril. The
men fell in on the upper deck as if on parade, and there they stood,
bearing themselves as stoutly before that dread foe death, as ever they
had or would have done before an earthly enemy, while the weeping,
helpless, women and little ones were being saved. And standing there,
while the officers shook hands and wished each other good-bye, the
_Birkenhead_ sank beneath their feet. Of 630 souls on board, only 194
were saved, and among them, Captain Wright of the 91st.
Similarly, in 1857, sheer coolness and discipline saved an entire ship.
For the 54th were on their way to Mauritius, when the vessel caught
fire. It was only through the exertions and steadiness of the men that
the ship was saved at all, and then she reached her destination a mere
burnt-out shell.
Nor was the case of the _Birkenhead_ the only one in which the greatest
of all bravery--facing death in cold blood--was evidenced by men of
the 91st. In 1846, the reserve battalion was taking passage in the
_Abercrombie Robinson_, when the vessel was wrecked near Cape Town. But
the 500 men of the 91st assembled on deck as if on parade, and kept the
grim silence of discipline until the women and children were safely in
the boats.
Noteworthy is the discipline and patience of the gallant 78th, when the
transport _Charlotte_, in which they had embarked, for transference
from Batavia to Calcutta in 1816, ran ashore on a sunken rock a
few miles from the island of Preparis, and that so violently, that
in fifteen minutes she filled to her main deck. Though death was
apparently imminent, the men behaved like the heroes and soldiers they
were. Every man waited for orders, and there was no sign of panic or
disobedience. The women, children, and sick were transported to the
island, with a few bags of rice only, and a few pieces of salt pork.
It was four days before the rest of the men and crew were landed on
the inhospitable shores of Preparis, and during that time some 140 men
were quartered on a raft fastened to a rock near the ship that was just
aflush with water at low tide. There they had neither sleep, nor food,
nor water. But the most perfect order obtained none the less. When they
were all got on to the island, things were little better. They remained
without relief from the 9th November until the 6th December, by which
time even the poor two-day allowance of a glass of rice and two ounces
of meat per head had been exhausted. Shell-fish were collected at low
tide and stored. All such finds were brought to the common stock, and
there was no need even for a guard! Officer and man shared the same
privation until the final relief came, and throughout the discipline of
the men was perfect.
But it is not merely in times of dangerous emergency that soldiers
alone have shown that they are descended from those Vikings who were
the true marines, equally good on shore or afloat. At the conclusion of
the China war of 1860, the regiments engaged returned to England, and
among them were the Buffs. Three companies of this grand old regiment,
who, like the Royal Marines, claim their descent from London trained
bands, and oftentimes had done seagoing duty, embarked on board the
_Athleta_. All went well till after she had touched at the Cape to
water. The crew was like many a merchant’s crew now, even if not much
more so now than then, built up of indifferent materials, probably
what is known as “Beachcombers,” men who in sterner days were marooned
on desert islands. The gold fever in Australia, too, had set in, and
hence caused desertions in homeward bound crews. So the crew of the
_Athleta_ tried to desert, and were prevented, and then came aft in a
body to complain of imaginary ill-treatment, and request to be taken
on shore before a magistrate. To have done so would have been fatal;
and the commanding officer of the Buffs stepped in. He suggested that
the captain should at once “weigh” and go to sea. The crew refused
to move a finger in the matter. Colonel Sargent proposed, as a quiet
and friendly way of settling the matter, to put the seamen in the
fo’castle, with an armed guard for their protection, and bread and
water for their food, while the Buffs worked the ship home. Captain
Potter joyfully assented, and went to sea with his strange, untrained,
crew. Volunteers were asked to go aloft, and the detachment was
cautioned as to its dangers, and the supreme necessity for coolness
and readiness of resource; and was told that to be _ordered_ aloft
was contrary to Queen’s regulations. None the less, sixty stalwart
lads stepped forward, and of these, twenty-eight were chosen for the
yards and “tops.” A week’s duty of this kind brought the mutineers
to their senses; that and the bread and water probably. They prayed
to be allowed to return to their duty, and did so. Colonel Sargent
thought, and rightly, that “he had had pleasure in going aloft with
them himself, because the boldest and most zealous of his men had never
been in the rigging before, and some had not even been on board a ship
of any kind previous to their voyage out and home.” Captain Potter
thought and said that he “was perfectly astonished to see soldiers able
to turn themselves all at once into such good sailors, and to teach
so wholesome a lesson to his crew, not one of whom, he was convinced,
would ever again strike work in a vessel on board of which British
soldiers were embarked.” The Buff crew refused payment for their extra
work, when it was proposed to stop a portion of the mutineers’ pay and
hand it over to the new crew, and “wished to enjoy the satisfaction
of feeling that they had only done their duty as British soldiers,
determined to support their commanding officer in any position.”
The incident is not merely one of passing interest, it evidences that
_sentiment du devoir_ and discipline which, combined, form the finest
soldiery the world has ever seen.
These are but a few of the noble records of the “Army at Sea.”
CHAPTER IX
THE PENINSULAR ARMY: (_a_) ITS MAKING--1793-1808
Peace--general peace at all events--had reigned from 1783 to 1789,
when the French Revolution broke out. With the merits or demerits of
that great struggle this story has nothing to do; but none the less
the overthrow of the monarchy of France not only created an almost
continuous condition of war for a quarter of a century, but helped most
materially to raise to the highest pitch the Continental opinion as
to the military value of Great Britain. Its naval strength throughout
that quarter of a century was most fully proved. It remained for the
stubborn fighting power of the land forces to be displayed during the
same eventful period. French anger, English panic, had dragged the
latter into open war with France, and that not without allies. All the
world began by being against the new Republic: small wonder, then, that
in her new-born freedom she turned bitterly against her world-wide
antagonists, and fought them all. That she did not fully conquer
them was largely due to one small State--England. The wealth of the
latter, even then comparatively greater than the Continent, her naval
preponderance, infinitely greater, as events proved, than that of her
antagonist, though her numerical fighting strength as compared with the
Continental powers was but small, and her insular position, made her
eventually almost the arbiter of Europe, when the great struggle drew
to an end.
As usual, the actual number of the army throughout the years from 1793
to 1808 constantly varied. The 150,000 men under arms in 1780 was
reduced to 40,000 the next year, was increased the year after to about
55,000 in Great Britain, and fell in 1784 to 18,000 at home, 12,000 in
the “Plantations,” and some 6000 in India. The provision for the latter
force was made by a new and special vote. The importance of the growing
empire in the East was being at last recognised.
The system of levying troops continued much the same. Men were enlisted
voluntarily by heavy bounties, and when that attraction failed, the
pressgang, or even the prisons, was then employed to raise recruits.
Unless disbanded at the end of a campaign, they served for life, or
till worn out; but the dawn of a short-service system appeared in 1805,
when the period of service was fixed at seventeen years.[32]
But the continued necessity for an increased army, and the dread of
serious invasion that obtained, and not without reason, during the
closing days of the eighteenth and the early days of the nineteenth
centuries, was fast wearing down the old civil dislike. Officers on
half-pay were rendered liable to trial by court martial. The militia
system was introduced into Scotland, and the Shropshire Regiment
was the first of the English militia to serve in that country,
while greater care was taken as regards home defence. France was
not content with a mere defensive rôle; but attempted, though with
extreme feebleness, to carry the war into her enemy’s territory. She
had threatened to land at Ilfracombe and then in Pembrokeshire; and
actually did so at Castlebar during the Irish insurrection of 1797-98,
though with no result save that of having to surrender. Ireland in that
year had required, as she has before and since, a large garrison, and
seven regiments of cavalry and four of infantry had been necessary to
put down the rising that was practically crushed at Vinegar Hill.
The pay of the rank and file remained much the same, 1s. a day for a
private; but the stoppage for the food ration out of it amounted to
6½d. Still the army was everywhere growing in esteem and in popularity.
Decorations and brevets were largely bestowed in 1795, after the return
of the army from foreign service. Frequent reviews, at which George
III. and the Prince of Wales attended, were held. The Duke of York was
a popular Commander-in-Chief, and did much to improve the discipline
of the army. He was so well liked by the men as to win the name of the
“Soldier’s Friend,” a title which his founding the “Royal Military
Asylum” for the education of soldiers’ children emphasised. Under his
auspices, too, and helped by Sir David Dundas, the somewhat varied and
irregular systems of drill were made uniform by the introduction of the
first real drill-book, the _Rules and Regulations for the Formations,
Field Exercise, and Movements of His Majesty’s Forces_, in 1792.
At that time Prussia was looked on as the great schoolmaster in the
art-military, as France was later, and as Germany is now. The English
army has been mainly a copyist of other people’s methods since the
century began. If, after the Crimea or the Italian campaign of 1859,
we adopted kepi-shaped hats, baggy “pegtop” trousers, and “booted
overalls” for riding, so, when Germany became successful, we copied her
“Blucher boots,” flat-topped forage-caps, infantry helmet, and rank
distinctions!
In this case, too, the Prussian system was the basis of our drill
instruction, and, with but slight modifications, so remained until
1870, when linear formations gave place to extended order.
The pace was increased from 75 to 80 per minute for the ordinary march
or movement, but one of 120 (our present quick march) was permitted
for wheeling and such minor manœuvres! The ranks were, when the book
first appeared, three deep, as obtained in Germany, until the death
of the late Emperor; but light infantry were allowed to form two deep
before skirmishing. The battalion had ten companies, including the
flank or “Light” and “Grenadier” companies. The absolute rigidity of
the line was insisted on. To be able to form line from open column
without either making gaps or causing crowding was the essence of good
drill; and hence, the “march past,” if well executed, was really then
a true test of the efficiency of a battalion. Other editions of this
drill-book were published in 1809, 1815, and 1817, but in 1808, the
three-rank formation was abolished for active service. It has been
surmised that the necessity, with the small armies we despatched in
these days, of this reduction in depth was made in order that a wider
front might be offered to the frequently numerical superiority of our
adversaries.[33]
In all our early campaigns, notoriously those of the Marlborough
period, the British infantry had shone in the offensive. From the
steady advance against Blenheim to the vigorous dash at Lincelles, it
had shown how capable it was of attacking even against enormous odds.
And yet from 1800 almost until now there has been an impression that
our army is better on the defensive than in the attack. Even after
Waterloo, Müffling writes: “I felt a strong conviction that if fortune
so far favoured us in a battle that the English army could act on the
defensive, while the Prussians acted simultaneously on the offensive,
we should obtain a brilliant victory over Napoleon.” Unfounded as such
an idea was, if the military history of the past be examined, there is
no doubt it remained a tradition for long after the battle that proved
once again the undaunted steadiness of the British line.
But the main change was in the extension of the principle of
skirmishing which the American war had introduced. For a long time the
“light companies” of battalions were designed to cover the front of
the line during its advance and protect it while manœuvring. Built up
for specific purpose into battalions, they formulated a drill of their
own; which General Dundas in his _Principles of Military Movements_
condemns. The rapid movements adopted met with little favour from an
officer imbued with the stiff rigidity of Prussian drill-sergeants.
“The importance of light infantry has more particularly tended to
establish this practice. During the late war their service was
conspicuous, and their gallantry and exertions have met with merited
applause. But instead of being considered as an accessory to the
battalion, they have become the principal feature of our army, and have
almost put grenadiers out of fashion. The showy exercise, the airy
dress, the independent modes which they have adopted, have caught the
minds of young officers, and made them imagine that these ought to be
general and exclusive.”
All this the drill-book of 1792 was designed to remedy, but though
it produced uniformity, which was valuable, it failed to check the
development of permanent light infantry battalions, such as composed
the magnificent Light Brigade of the Peninsular days.
But when, in 1804, a Camp of Instruction was formed at Shorncliffe
under General John Moore, a new era to some extent began. Moore did
not favour the rigid drill of Dundas’s drill-book of 1792. He “d--d
the Eighteen Manœuvres,” which were looked on as essential for a
well-trained regiment to undergo. He introduced the system of light
infantry drill which was the basis of all such work in our army and
in our drill-books up to 1870; and the regiments he trained, the
4th, 52nd, 57th, 59th, and 95th, came nobly to the front when the
time arrived. The general was knighted a year later, and the 52nd
presented him with a diamond star, valued at 350 guineas, in token
of their appreciation of his services; while as colonel of the first
regiment named officially “Light Infantry,” he chose for one of the
supporters of his coat of arms a light infantry soldier. The other was
a Highlander, in remembrance of the help one of the 92nd had given him
when wounded at Egmont-op-Zee.
Abroad, the formations were generally columnar, more or less, and the
movements of these dense bodies was covered, as was the line elsewhere,
by skirmishers from the light (flank) companies or light infantry
battalions. The French also had foreshadowed two modern improvements in
the use of balloons at Fleurus and the introduction of telegraphy by
means of semaphores. In England, on the other hand, General Congreve
had invented the war-rocket in 1805, and two years before, Sir Henry
Shrapnell the “spherical case,” which afterwards took his name and
which was first used with effect at Vimiera.
Fighting was tolerably general in Europe from 1793 to the Peace of
Amiens in 1802. We had been fighting at sea with the French in Lord
Howe’s victory of the 1st June and at the Nile, with the Spanish at
Cape St. Vincent, and the Danes at Copenhagen. We had occupied Toulon
at the request of French Royalists, and been compelled to abandon it,
very largely through the action of a young officer of artillery named
Bonaparte. There had been practically three campaigns in Flanders. The
Duke of York, with the 14th, 37th, 53rd, etc., and a brigade of Guards,
had been despatched to Holland, where the latter, but three battalions
strong, routed an entrenched force of 5000 men, so that “The French,
who had been accustomed to the cold, lifeless attacks of the Dutch,
were amazed at the spirit and intrepidity of the British.” For this the
brigade bears the name of Lincelles on their colours. The 14th also
displayed the greatest coolness at Famars, young soldiers though they
were; for, attacking with too much impetuosity, their colonel made them
halt and re-form, and when thus steadied, took them into action again,
the band playing them to victory with the French Revolutionary tune of
_Ça ira_. Ever afterwards the tune is played after dinner at mess, and
is the regimental march. The attack on Dunkirk, however, failed, and
the duke returned home.
The next year he returned, and the campaign, embittered by an order
of Republican France to give no quarter to wounded or prisoners,
re-opened. In the brilliant little cavalry action at Villers en Couche
the 15th Light Dragoons especially distinguished themselves, and
for their gallantry, as well as for saving the life of the Emperor
of Germany, eight of the officers were decorated with the cross of
the order of Maria Theresa; while at Cateau the Royals fought so
brilliantly that £500 was given to the regiment by the Duke of York’s
orders.
The success was but temporary. The French concentrated overwhelming
numbers, and the army fell back on Antwerp, and then to Holland,
and suffered terribly in the dreadful winter of 1794. The stubborn
resistance of the rearguard, composed of the 14th, 37th, and 53rd,
supported on the flanks by the skilful and bold work of the 7th, 15th,
and 16th cavalry regiments, prevented a disaster which the indifference
or probable disaffection of the Dutch troops did not tend to lessen;
and finally, the dispirited but unbeaten force, abandoning its stores
and spiking the guns it could not take with it, reached Bremen. The
horrors of that dreadful march, begun on the 6th January 1795, are
only equalled by the retreat from Moscow of a French army later; but
the discipline and endurance of the troops was beyond all praise. The
contemporary records especially mention the Guards, the 27th, 33rd,
42nd, 44th, and 78th Regiments for their splendid discipline. The 28th,
too, were notorious for their strong regimental feeling. “Hospitals
were their aversion. Their home was the battalion, and they were
never happy away from it.” Of all the regiments, the hardy Scotsmen
of the 42nd fared best; and in this disastrous campaign, honourable
in all its details save that of mere success, another young officer,
Arthur Wellesley of the 33rd, first saw fire at Boxtel. Thus the end
of the last century was to give the early war-training to two great
antagonists--Napoleon at Toulon and Wellington at Boxtel. This alone
would render the military history of 1794-95 interesting to all who
read.
But the eighteenth century was to see yet another campaign in the
Netherlandic area. It had not been, on the whole, peculiarly favourable
to British arms, and the last campaign there was to be no exception to
the rule.
For, notwithstanding that the duke had the active co-operation of such
men as Ralph Abercromby and John Moore, not much came of it. The allied
Russians and British made little headway against the French with the
“Batavian Republic,” and a check at Alkmaar, followed by a victory at
Egmont-op-Zee on the 2nd October 1799 where, according to the duke,
“under Divine Providence,” the French were entirely defeated, and where
the Royals, the 20th, 25th, 49th, 63rd, 79th, and 92nd did their duty,
practically terminated the Helder campaign. For, after an armistice,
the British troops left the Netherlands, never to fight seriously in
that district until the final victory of 1815, when Wellington, who
first saw battle there, was to terminate a series of wars for which the
Low Countries had for more than a century been the “cockpit.”
The landing of the army in Walcheren ten years later may be
disregarded. Except in the capture of Flushing, there was practically
no fighting. The real enemy was fever, and out of the forty thousand
men who had been disembarked, thirty-five thousand had been in
hospital. The plan of operation was initially bad, the carrying out
worse. Between Chatham on shore and Strachan at sea there was so little
intelligent co-operation that each abused the other for what was
clearly the fact, that
“The Earl of Chatham, with his sword drawn,
Stood waiting for Sir Richard Strachan;
Sir Richard, longing to be at ’em,
Stood waiting for the Earl of Chatham.”
As Napoleon himself remarked at one time, “Before six weeks, of the
fifteen thousand troops which are in the Isle of Walcheren not fifteen
hundred will be left, the rest will be in hospital. The expedition has
been undertaken under false expectations and planned in ignorance.”
This is the grim and gruesome truth. With the above exception, then,
the theatre of war after the expedition to the Helder was, for many a
year, as far as the British army was concerned, changed. The increasing
importance of India was beginning to be felt. Napoleon, far seeing, had
recognised this, and first put into French minds the value of Egypt.
Though there was no canal, as there is now, it was still geographically
the shortest road to the East. Then, as now, Egypt was a station on
the line that united Great Britain with Eastern possessions that were
but embryos of what they are now. The one striking point in the vast
and ambitious intellect of the greatest soldier the world has seen,
Alexander and Cæsar not excepted, is his grasp of the political future
of the nations of Europe. Intuitively he saw the worth of Egypt to the
great dominant naval powers, England and France. His views were almost
prophetic, his ideas magnificent.
Notwithstanding the disaster to the French of Aboukir Bay, he decided
on contending in Africa for the possession of Asia. What a stupendous
genius the man had! How astounding the rise of the young officer of
artillery, who fought against his fellow-patriots of Corsica, who drove
the British out of Toulon, and who was soon to be the dominant soul in
all Europe! “Who could have believed that a simple sub-lieutenant of
artillery, a stranger to France by name and by birth, was destined to
govern that great Empire and to give the law in a manner to all the
Continent, in defiance of reason, justice, the hereditary rights of the
legitimate princes of the realm, and the combined efforts of so great a
number of loyalists in the interior of the kingdom, and all the Great
Powers of Europe.”
In 1799 he had gone to Egypt with a considerable force. It is strange
to think that such a thing was possible with British fleets on the
seas. But it was so, and it only shows how the element of surprise, how
the want of telegraph and the absence of steam, rendered the occupation
of Egypt possible at all. It could not be so now. But then, before the
danger was really grasped, the French had practically conquered Egypt,
and were in full occupation of both Cairo and Alexandria. And these
practically meant the country, and the closing of our highway to the
East.
He returned to France in 1800, when the conditions of Continental war
were, as far as England was concerned, desperate. The expeditions to
the Netherlands had been productive of but little, to say the least.
The only chance for England, and that was based merely on the striking
at the enemy’s armed strength and not with the view of protecting the
Eastern Empire which Napoleon had seen the importance of threatening,
was to try conclusions with the French in Egypt when their great chief
was absent in France. The expedition, consisting of the Guards, the
1st, 54th (two battalions), and 92nd, and the 8th, 13th, 19th, and
90th, the 2nd, 50th, and 79th, and the 18th, 30th, 44th, and 89th, and
others, with a reserve composed of some companies of the 23rd, the
28th, 42nd, and cavalry brigade of some companies of the 11th Dragoons,
the 12th and 26th Dragoons, and some mounted infantry, started. It was
under the guidance of the best and most experienced general of the
time, Sir Ralph Abercromby, whose leading spirit was Sir John Moore.
The force landed. The 23rd, 28th, and 42nd were the first to leap on
shore, though the casualties were numerous under the fire of fifteen
guns and many infantry, while the Royals, the 54th, and 58th did
equally good work farther along the beach. The marines shared in the
honours of the landing, and subsequent events gave them the title of
“Royal” from the Egyptian campaign of 1801. Of them there is a legend
of a curious speech made by a captain of the corps before his men
debarked. Looking out of a porthole at the sombre masses of the enemy
that were assembled to oppose the landing, he turned to his men and
said, “Look here! Those fellows on shore there are the French, and that
is the land of Egypt. If you don’t, therefore, help to give them a d--d
good thrashing, you will soon find yourself in the house of bondage!”
So, with sundry skirmishes, especially that at Mandora, where the 92nd
displayed conspicuous gallantry, the army pushed on to the battlefield
outside Alexandria, where they took up an entrenched position between
the dry bed of Lake Mareotis and the sea. Here, at daybreak on the 21st
March 1801, they were attacked by General Menou, who, making a feint
at the British left with the Dromedary Corps, vigorously attacked the
right, where the 28th, 42nd, and 23rd were posted. But every attack
was repulsed, even when ammunition failed, and the defence had to be
conducted with the bayonet alone. The 28th, assailed in front and rear
when in line by cavalry, fought back to back, and ever since have been
distinguished by having the regimental number or badge on the back as
well as the front of their headdress. The victory was dearly bought,
for Abercromby was mortally hurt, and 1306 men, with 70 officers, were
killed or wounded. Shortly after Cairo was occupied, and Alexandria,
first blockaded, soon surrendered.
The employment of a camel corps was a forecast of what would be done
when next an English army fought on Egyptian soil, but there is even
another point of resemblance. For as an Indian brigade co-operated
with the home army at Tel-el-Kebir, so in this campaign a force under
General Baird, consisting of the 8th Light Dragoons, and the 10th,
61st, 86th, and 88th, from India, with some two thousand Sepoys, landed
at Kosseir and made a gallant march of a hundred and fifty miles across
the desert to Kenneh, and so down the Nile to Rosetta.
Foiled in seizing and holding one of the roads to the East, Napoleon
turned his thoughts to Great Britain herself. Though not a Continental
Power, she was his most dangerous adversary. Her naval strength and her
wealth enabled her to keep alive Continental antagonism, even if her
armies had, latterly at least, effected little but diversions of sorts.
Every preparation had been made for the invasion of hated England;
given only the even temporary command of the sea, and it was possible
then, as it is infinitely more possible now, in the days of steam.
The feeble efforts already referred to at the end of the last century
showed the entire practicability of the idea. All that was wanted
was the organisation of the effort on a large scale, and what better
military organiser was there than Napoleon, aided by his staff? So much
so that Soult, no mean authority, reported that a hundred thousand men
could be embarked in the flotilla in seven or eight minutes. Corps were
assembled at Amiens, Ostend, about Dunkirk, and at Boulogne. Flotillas
for the transport and debarkation of troops were massed in large
numbers. The bulk of the British army, too, was abroad, and matters
looked serious. There were in England, at least, but the Life and Horse
Guards, eighteen cavalry regiments, and five of regular infantry.
There were militia, of course, and volunteer corps sprang up as rapidly
and as readily as they did later, when a similar provocation arose.
Serious instructions were issued, both to these and to the people, as
to how the enemy, if he landed, should be met and harassed.
In an undated MS., the paper of which bears the watermark of a crown,
G. R., and 1801, the following instructions are issued. It is called
“Advice to the inhabitants of those districts of England through which
the French army may march in the course of its projected invasion.”
“As the enemy may effect a landing in many parts of the coast at one
and the same time, and as the _precise_ spots on which he may do so
cannot be previously ascertained, it follows, that _every_ order
which may become necessary cannot be previously given. In the actual
execution of those even which are so issued, some variation may be
required. Amid the numerous movements of the enemy either to effect his
intended junctions, or to possess himself of such cities and towns as
he may think fit to occupy, it is possible that the dispositions made
_beforehand_, may by subsequent occurrences be rendered unavailing,
and that, therefore, the inhabitants must often wait for fresh
instructions. During these intervals, it will not perhaps be useless to
point out to them in what manner they ought _provisionally_ to act.”
“If it be necessary that they should defend themselves, it is not less
so that they should do it in such a manner as to provide for their
escape. He whose dexterity preserves him may, in a quarter of an hour
afterwards, again be firing on the enemy. He who, without judgment and
without precaution, exposes himself, must inevitably run very great
risks; nor can the country be defended by prisoners or dead men.”
* * * * *
“Every particular hill, every wood thus occupied, must be considered as
a _separate_ post acting for itself. Consequently, whatever number of
men may arrive in _each_, should be immediately organised. They must
appoint a captain and three lieutenants. The captain must be aware
that every post should be defended in front and flank, and to this
effect he must form his people into three divisions.”
* * * * *
“On all occasions, an ambuscade in a wood or behind hedges must allow
the enemy to approach as near as possible before the firing commences,
and it should be well understood that, at even three hundred paces,
musquet shots are very uncertain, and only become destructive at
that distance where one body of troops fire together upon another
closely collected. It is different where people are dispersed and
act individually; in that case any degree of precision with a common
musquet is not to be reckoned on at a greater distance than from fifty
to sixty paces.”
This is a curious story, but it shows how exceedingly short the range
of firearms in those days, and even up to the Crimean War, was. General
Mercer, whose memoirs, apparently from fear of the duke, were not
published until after his death, gives in his account of Waterloo a
similar curious story. He says, that after a charge of the Grenadiers à
Cheval and Cuirassiers against his battery, “they prepared for a second
attempt, sending up a cloud of skirmishers who galled us terribly by a
fire of carbines and pistols at scarcely forty yards from our front.
We were obliged to stand with port-fires lighted, so that it was not
without a little difficulty that I succeeded in restraining the people
from firing, for they grew impatient under such fatal results. Seeing
some exertion beyond words necessary for this purpose, I leaped my
horse up the little bank and began a promenade (by no means agreeable),
up and down our front, without even drawing my sword, though these
fellows were within speaking distance of me. This quieted my men; but
the tall blue gentlemen, seeing me thus dare them, immediately made
a target of me, and commenced a very deliberate practice, to show us
what very bad shots they were, and verify the old artillery proverb,
‘The nearer the target, the safer you are.’ One fellow certainly made
me flinch, but it was a miss; so I shook my finger at him and called
him _coquin_. The rogue grinned as he reloaded and again took aim. I
certainly felt rather foolish at that moment, but was ashamed, after
such bravado, to let him see it, and therefore continued my promenade.
As if to prolong my torment, he was a terrible time about it. To me it
seemed an age. Whenever I turned, the muzzle of his infernal carbine
still followed me. At length bang it went, and whiz came the ball close
to the back of my neck and at the same instant down dropped the leading
driver of one of my guns (Miller), into whose forehead the cursed
missile had penetrated.”
This forgotten effect of the range of firearms, before rifles were,
is interesting to follow. In a drill-book, dated 1829, occurs the
following. It is a book of questions and answers, and in it occurs
Question 65, which asks, “When firing them (the men) at ball cartridge,
do you increase or decrease their distance in proportion to their
confidence?” To which the answer is, “I increase or decrease the
distance in proportion to their confidence, making the diffident
strike it at all events; as I find his or their confidence increase, I
increase the distance accordingly.” So in Question 66 occurs that of
“And how is this done?” to which the reply is, “If a man do not strike
the target at forty yards, I decrease the distance to thirty yards, and
so on till he hits it.”
This was in 1829; but it is still more remarkable to find in a
“Military Dictionary” of the year 1844, that even then “the first
target for the instruction of infantry recruits is made round and eight
feet in diameter, _the practice commencing at thirty yards_, so that
it is impossible for the recruit to miss it. This range is increased
to fifty, eighty, and a hundred yards at the same target”; while the
extreme range at this target practice was only two hundred yards!
Even later, in the “Manual of Field Operations” written by Lieutenant
Jervis-Whyte-Jervis, and dated 1852, it is stated that recruits are
placed into three squads in the French exercise which he admires, and
to which he attributes the accuracy of fire in their infantry. They
are thus classed: “1. Those who have struck the target three times
in 120 yards. 2. Those who have struck it more than three times. 3.
Those who have struck it less than three times”; and the instruction
goes on to say that while every recruit fires eighty ball cartridges
every year, the older soldiers are formed into three groups, of whom
the older soldiers fire nine times at the distance of 120 yards, and
six at 180 yards, and the successful marksmen are rewarded with silver
epaulets.”
This, then, was the value of musketry-fire for long after the beginning
of this century and before rifles were common. Until 1854 there had
been, as far as armament was concerned, little alteration.
When the Peninsular war broke out, England set quietly to work in her
wonted fashion, showing neither fear nor anger. Even when Portugal
was driven by France to close her country to us, we, though in what
looked like dire extremity, calmly took Madeira, just to express our
resentment at this treatment!
Then the peace of Amiens intervened, and the danger temporarily ceased.
England resigned all her conquests but Ceylon and Trinidad. She agreed
to resign Malta, but didn’t; and this was used by Napoleon as a pretext
for the resumption of hostilities a year later. But for the first time
since the army was created, peace and reduction were not synonymous
terms. The danger had been too menacing for even the most unwarlike
citizen to desire to lessen the nation’s defensive strength. More
drilling and an attempt at a better organisation took the place of the
old-time disbandment; and when war was once more declared, there was
less reason for dread than before the “scare” occurred. The volunteers,
especially, were full of enthusiasm. The king reviewed twenty-six
regiments of them in Hyde Park on the 26th of October 1803, and
thirty-five more two days later. The Prince of Wales in vain besought
his father’s permission for a command, but though refused, the effect
on the national enthusiasm was marked.
Abroad, we captured St. Lucia, Tobago, Demerara, and Surinam, and the
French occupied Hanover, which mattered nothing. But the destruction by
Nelson of the French and Spanish fleets at Trafalgar mattered much. It
destroyed altogether the idea of a French invasion for more than fifty
years.
Hence the French idea of invasion was abandoned, and the military camp
on the Channel coast was broken up. Napoleon shivered the European
alliance against him at Ulm and Austerlitz, and contented himself with
abusing England in manifestoes. A British contingent, built up of the
Guards, and the 4th, 14th, 23rd, 28th, and 95th Foot, etc., went to
Bremen and came back again; but in 1806 a small British army did good
work on the coast of Calabria, and met the French at Maida, where the
20th, 27th, 58th, 78th, and 81st Regiments defeated Regnier, and where,
if tradition speaks truly, the 20th, who were bathing when the bugle
sounded, went into action with only their accoutrements and weapons on.
This battle is one of the recorded instances in which the French and
English actually crossed bayonets.
Almost the last event of interest before the Peninsular War is that
of the seizure of the Danish navy, and the military operations that
accompanied that probably necessary, but certainly violent, act. When
the population and the wealth of Great Britain were infinitely less
than they are now, and when, as regards the former, most European
nations surpassed us, there is no doubt of the determination of the
men of that time. There was no fear of anybody, and that very boldness
saved us. It may be well in some cases to be pacific; but Drake’s
method of singeing “the King of Spain’s beard,” on the broad principle
that there “are two ways of facing an enemy: the one to stand off and
cry, ‘Try that again and I will strike thee,’ the other to strike him
first and then, ‘Try that at all and I’ll strike thee again,’” has
its merits in time of grave peril, and is likely to bear more useful
fruit than the method adopted by Mr. Snodgrass at Ipswich, when he,
“in a truly Christian spirit, and in order that he might take no one
unawares, announced in a very loud tone that he was going to begin.”
For right or wrong it was done, and at Kioge Sir Arthur Wellesley met
the Danes with the 92nd and 95th, and drove them back on the capital.
Soon after the struggle terminated, the Danish fleet was taken away.
England for the second time had made an enemy of a State too weak to do
other than accept the conditions enforced by a stronger power. The only
excuse was the instinct of self-preservation. The only other resource
would have been to get Denmark to ally with us. But Denmark inclined to
what seemed the strongest, though not the most determined, power, and
so doing lost her fleet.
* * * * *
About this time was formed a foreign force that co-operated fully
and entirely with the British army in the stormy days that were to
come--“The King’s German Legion.” It was to be raised in Hanover and to
be trained in England, and eventually it was decided that it was to be
placed under the command of the Duke of Cambridge. When fully formed,
it was to consist of a cavalry brigade, a light infantry and two
ordinary infantry brigades, two horse and two foot batteries, with a
proportion of engineers; and when paraded at Weymouth, it gave promise
of the discipline that led to the bravery it displayed from Talavera to
Waterloo.
But the political condition of Europe had been changing in these days.
Foreigners were either allies of Napoleon, cowed by him, or worshippers
of his genius and success. Only two were weak, and either neutral or
indifferent, and these were Spain and Portugal. So thither was the
restless ambition of the great soldier directed. A doubtful State was
one to be suppressed, and Spain was Bourbon and necessarily doubtful.
Therefore the conquest of the Iberian Peninsula was determined on.
How little did Napoleon foresee, when his magnificent genius failed
and induced him to think only as a soldier and not as a world-wide
politician! A country--two countries--with a wide coast-line, with
a population deadly hostile to the French, was not a wise base of
operations for the conquest of two capitals and two peoples. It was the
Spanish war that led as much as anything to the exhaustion of France,
and to Napoleon’s retirement to Elba. It was the unhealed sore that
sapped the military strength of the emperor, and which, neglected, was
one, if not the chief, cause of his political death.
With the first serious and connected invasion of the Spanish Peninsula
begins the story of the downfall of the conqueror of Austerlitz.
[Illustration: _OUTLINE MAP of SPAIN & PORTUGAL_]
CHAPTER X
THE PENINSULAR ARMY: (_b_) ITS TRAINING--1808-11
With the year 1808 began the great struggle in the Peninsula, which,
directly and indirectly, led to the long peace. Its immediate cause was
the seizure by Napoleon of the Iberian Peninsula, the establishment
on the Spanish throne of his brother Joseph, and then the determined
rising of the people against this uncalled-for foreign usurpation.
This practically gave us a cause for interference, and for again
joining issue with our ancient enemy. We were rarely so well prepared.
We had under arms about 300,000 men, with 80,000 in India, 108,380
militia, and 200,000 volunteers. An army, not large, for it numbered
but 30,000 men in all, but of excellent material, was equipped and
placed under the command of Sir Hew Dalrymple, with Burrard as second
in command, and the two divisional leaders were Sir Arthur Wellesley
and Sir John Moore. The force comprised the 3rd, 18th, and 20th, with,
later on, the 10th and 15th Light Dragoons. The line regiments were
the 2nd, 4th, 5th, 6th, the 1-9th, 2-20th, 1-28th, 1-29th, 32nd, 36th,
38th, 40th, 43rd, 45th, 52nd, 60th, 71st, 79th, 82nd, 91st, 92nd,
97th, with some light battalions, the King’s German Legion, and a full
proportion of guns.
It is somewhat difficult to group the operations that continued from
this date to 1814; but it may be convenient to deal with them generally
in two groups. 1. From Roliça and Vimiera to Torres Vedras. 2. From
Portugal to France, or from Busaco to Toulouse.
A glance at the map will show that there are only two good roads by
which Spain can be approached from France. The western pass is the
Bidassoa, by which the Bayonne road reaches Madrid; the eastern, that
of De Pertus, carrying the Perpignan road by Saragossa to Madrid.
Furthermore, the great central plateau is traversed by a series of
more or less parallel mountain ridges running east and west; so that
while movement laterally is comparatively easy, that from north to
south is difficult. Such was the terrain which was to see so much hard
fighting; a land held by a keenly patriotic and high-spirited people,
possessed of great tenacity of purpose, and especially qualified for
that guerilla warfare for which such a land was peculiarly suitable.
Throughout, the contest, as far as the French and their immediate
opponents, the Spanish and Portuguese, are concerned, was accompanied
by circumstances of the greatest barbarity. French orders to shoot
patriots and destroy villages in which risings against the foreign
rule had occurred, tended largely to the formation of those bands of
guerillas and partisans, in the minds of every member of which was
but one thought--revenge. Not unfrequently these bands degenerated
from patriotic _francs-tireurs_ into mere hordes of banditti, a terror
indiscriminately to the armies of both the combatants and the civil
population.
This, then, broadly speaking, was the state of affairs when Great
Britain determined on siding actively with the enemies of France, and
up to this time, at least, matters had not improved, as the hostilities
became more and more prolonged. One decisive success only, that of the
defeat and capitulation of Dupont at Baylen, had hitherto attended the
Spanish arm, and at this battle England was represented by one English
officer, Captain Whittingham, as military attaché.
The first of the groups into which the whole campaign may, for
convenience, be divided, practically resulted in the deliverance of
Portugal. The first division under Wellesley landed at the mouth of the
Mondego, and the first skirmish at Obidos resulted in the retirement of
the French advanced troops, and then Laborde was defeated at Roliça, a
victory which was all the more important as being the first success
that had been gained by the British army in Europe since the campaign
in Egypt and the affair of Copenhagen. In it the 5th, 6th, 9th,
29th, 32nd, 36th, 38th, 40th, 45th, 60th, 71st, 82nd, 91st, and the
newly-formed Rifle Brigade took a distinguished part. But instead of
rapidly following up the success gained, Burrard, much to Wellesley’s
disgust, decided on waiting till the second division under Moore,
which had reached Mondego Bay, should have joined the headquarters of
the army. But Junot, who commanded in chief the armies in Portugal,
anticipated this by advancing against the first division, which was in
position on the Vimiera heights near the Maceira River, and somewhat
inferior in strength to the assailant.
The attack was delivered with the greatest boldness, but checked by
fire, and especially by the Shrapnell shells, which were first used
here, and then by the determined charges of the 50th (the “Blind
Half Hundred,” owing to the prevalence of ophthalmia in the regiment
in 1801, or the “Dirty Half Hundred,” from the men smearing their
faces with their black cuffs), the 43rd and the 71st (then known from
the number of Lowland Scotsmen in their ranks as the “Glasgow Light
Infantry”) the French fell back beaten. One instance of bravery, worth
recording here, is that of a piper of the 71st, who, though his thigh
was shattered by a musket shot, played on bravely, sitting on his
knapsack, exclaiming, “Deil hae me, lads, if ye shall want music!”
Again, owing to Burrard’s want of dash, the final counter attack was
checked, and the French withdrew in fair order; but though Crawford’s
brigade had hardly been engaged, and a vigorous pursuit was rightly
urged by Wellesley, Dalrymple again determined to await the arrival
of Moore, and so the chance was lost. For this battle the regiments
already mentioned as being engaged at Roliça, as well as the 2nd, 20th,
43rd, 50th, and 52nd, bear the name of Vimiera on their colours.
But though the English army thus delayed, Junot thought the game was
up. He entered into negotiations for the abandonment of Portugal, and
by the “Convention of Cintra” the fortresses were to be given up, and
the French troops transported to France in the vessels of the Russian
fleet for a time blockaded in the Tagus by a British fleet.
Meanwhile Moore, landing at Maceira Bay, had joined the army, the whole
of which finally marched to Lisbon.
The convention was bitterly condemned in England, though Napoleon
thought she had concluded a good bargain. By it Portugal had been
temporarily freed, and a good base of operations, with good harbours,
was obtained for further efforts. None the less both Dalrymple and
Burrard were practically retired, and the supreme command was now open
for the future Duke of Wellington when the time came. But scapegoats
were wanted, if only to please the irresponsible and irrepressible home
critics.
“But when Convention sent his handywork,
Pens, tongues, feet, hands, combined in wild uproar;
Mayor, aldermen, laid down the uplifted fork;
The bench of bishops half forgot to snore;
Stern Cobbett, who for one whole week forbore
To question aught, once more with transport leapt,
And bit his devilish quill again and swore
With foe such treaty never should be kept.
Then burst the blatant beast, and raged, and roared, and slept.”[34]
For a brief space, matters were quiescent. But Napoleon fully
recognised the gravity of the situation, and saw that a Spanish rising
might become a grave menace to France. He even induced his ally, the
Czar, to address King George a letter, asking him to make peace “in the
name of humanity”! It was like “Satan reproving sin,” and produced no
result; so he himself therefore took the matter in hand. He re-invaded
Spain to re-instate Joseph on the Spanish throne. He defeated the
Spanish armies, to be met by the advance of the army under Moore, who
had succeeded to the command after the Convention of Cintra, had landed
at Lisbon, and was to be reinforced by Sir David Baird, who had reached
Corunna with a force of some ten thousand men.
It was arranged that the two divisions should concentrate at Salamanca,
but there were many difficulties in the way. The point of union,
or concentration, was too close to the enemy to be safe. There was
Spanish and Portuguese opposition, want of money on the one hand; on
the other, a country to traverse which was ill provided with roads,
and those of the worst character. Hence Moore still further subdivided
his command. The cavalry and artillery and heavy baggage were to move
by Elvas on Salamanca, whither Baird was also directed; the remainder
in two columns, one by Almeida, the other by Alcantara, and thence by
Ciudad Rodrigo to Salamanca; while, in addition to this separation, the
columns themselves were further subdivided into sub-units, separated
by intervals in the columns of march, thus greatly increasing their
depth and lessening their power of concentration for battle. Moore’s
difficulties increased rather than lessened as the advance continued.
The Spanish, profuse of promises of assistance, were slow in fulfilling
them. The transport was notoriously insufficient and inefficient. The
inhabitants themselves, strangely enough, were by no means enthusiastic
to their allies and would-be deliverers. The Spanish armies had been
successively beaten, and were much disorganised. There was nothing
for it but retreat really, though Moore made a last desperate effort
to retrieve matters, trusting to the glowing but untrue reports as to
the enthusiastic resistance the Madrileños were prepared to make, and
continued his advance to Madrid. The idea was more than risky. The
capital was already in French hands; Lefevre had already, by a movement
towards Talavera, seriously endangered his retreat to Portugal. The
weather was most severe, the local supplies of the smallest.
Still he attempted to engage Soult, whose corps was somewhat weak and
the bulk of whose cavalry were about Sahagun. Baird was directed on
Mayorga; Moore himself moved on Saldaña, and the 10th and 15th Light
Cavalry, by a night march, engaged the enemy at Sahagun, the latter
regiment won the right to carry the name on its battle-roll. It is the
only cavalry regiment so distinguished. This fully roused the energies
of Napoleon. He determined to attempt the complete destruction of the
British force. Soult from the north, through Astorga, Lefevre from
the south by Talavera, and the main army under his own command by the
Escurial Pass, were to close in and surround Moore.
The celebrated “Retreat to Corunna” commenced. Moore was to change
his base from Lisbon to Corunna, and began by falling back on Castro
Gonzalo (at Benevente) and Baird was retiring on Valencia (towns on
the river Esla) to unite with him at Astorga; and at both Mayorga and
Castro Gonzalo skirmishes occurred with the French cavalry which were
highly creditable to the British. Napoleon pursued as rapidly as the
state of the weather, with deep snow, would permit; but, recalled to
France on the 1st January 1809, he left to Soult the task of “driving
the leopard into the sea.” While in supreme command, the emperor had
infused his own boundless energy into the army, and had marched a
force of fifty thousand men over snowclad passes and in bitter weather
some two hundred miles in ten days! Many brilliant skirmishes were
carried out by the English cavalry at Mayorga, Benevente (where General
Lefebvre Desnouettes was taken prisoner), and at Constantine, and
notoriously that by the 10th Hussars at Calcabellos; and an attempt was
made to induce the enemy to attack at Lugo, but it only resulted in
a skirmish and not a battle, and the dismal retreat was continued by
Betanzos on Corunna. By this time the army was completely demoralised.
Repeated orders had been issued, but seem to have been of little
effect. At Bembribee, for example, the men broke into the wine vaults,
and drunkenness reigned; shops were broken into and plundered there and
elsewhere. The sufferings were extreme. Soldiers, women, and children
lay down in the snow by the line of march to die. It being winter,
fords were deep, and men had to cross them, and march in their wet
clothes under storms of rain, wind, and sleet.
Guns had to be abandoned, and, like the military chest on one occasion,
thrown over precipices to avoid capture; and horses were shot, as there
was no food for them. The “stars in their courses” fought against
Moore. Even the precautions taken at Lugo to carry out a night march
failed, for the wind blew down the bundles of straw that had been
placed to mark the roads, and bridges that should have been destroyed
were left standing.
Little wonder then that the troops hailed the sight of the sea at
Corunna with cheers, though it was three days after their arrival under
the walls of the little fortress before the transports dropped anchor
in the harbour. But the retreat was over, and the army stood at bay.
With all their unquestionable indiscipline and insubordination on the
march, those who were left had not lost the fighting spirit. It was
either victory, or capitulation, or a most disastrous embarkation; and
the army played for the first and won. Soult had twenty thousand men
flushed with the feeling of success to engage the remnants of Moore’s
army, barely fifteen thousand strong.
The stores and magazines having been destroyed, and the horses killed,
the non-combatants and all the guns except nine six-pounders embarked.
The regiments, too, would have followed, but Soult prepared for attack,
and the army faced him, with backs to the sea.
Soult’s attack was purely frontal, and designed to drive back the
supposed demoralised British army on the town. A strong force of
cavalry was on the extreme left, next to which was a heavy battery, and
on the right three heavy columns descended the ridge, covered by clouds
of skirmishers to force the division of Baird and Hope. The 50th again
distinguished itself by a vigorous use of the bayonet, and the ensigns
bearing the colours fell, to be carried then by the colour-sergeants;
while Major Charles Napier, of whom we hear more, later, in Scinde,
was wounded and taken prisoner. Baird, too, was severely wounded by a
grapeshot, and the 42nd, being short of ammunition, were falling back,
when Moore himself led them forward with the stirring appeal, “My
brave Highlanders, you have still your bayonets. Remember Egypt;” and
so doing fell from his horse with his shoulder shattered by a cannon
ball. None the less, he watched the victorious advance of the 42nd into
the shambles of Elvina village, which was the key of the fight, until
it was necessary to carry him to the rear on a blanket supported by
sashes, and soon he breathed his last, with the hope, amply fulfilled,
that his country would do him justice.
From the outset, he was despatched with almost certain failure in view.
The wide dispersal of the Spanish armies, their notorious want of
cohesion and experience, were alone serious dangers; but if there be
added to this, a force too small for the purpose, a most indifferent
commissariat, and an ill-supplied military chest, the task imposed on
Moore was hopelessly impossible. Still, whatever the errors made in
the plan of campaign and in the disastrous retreat, Corunna more than
compensated for them, and Moore, the guiding spirit of it all, was laid
to rest in one of the bastions of the citadel, “with his martial cloak
around him,” after the embarkation which followed. On the night of,
and morning after, the battle, and when the 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers
were the last to quit the shore, the French, with chivalric courtesy,
kept the tricolour half-mast high, and fired the parting salute of
cannon over the grave of Sir John Moore. But the well-known poetry,
descriptive of the hero’s funeral, written by Wolfe, is not strictly
accurate. There was no need for the “lanterns dimly burning,” as it was
already daylight.
The troops engaged were the Grenadier Guards, the 1st, 2nd, 4th, 5th,
6th, 9th, 14th, 20th, 23rd, 26th, 28th, 32nd, 36th, 38th, 42nd, 43rd,
50th, 51st, 52nd, 59th, 71st, 81st, 91st, 92nd, and Rifle Brigade; but
as if to give the crowning touch to the sufferings of the campaign, the
fleet was scattered by a storm on the way home, and many ships were
wrecked.
Military operations on a large scale ceased in Portugal after the
return home of Moore’s army. Soult had stormed and occupied Oporto, and
a strong army was nominally under the command of Joseph in Madrid and
to the west, while Lapisse was at Salamanca and Victor near Talavera.
On the resumption of hostilities, Sir Arthur Wellesley landed with
an army at Lisbon. The somewhat disorganised Portuguese troops were
to be “wheeled into line” by Beresford, an officer already of some
experience, who had recently commanded the rearguard at Corunna, and
who soon proved the value, militarily, of his selection as chief in
command, though the rank and file were mutinous (and suffered for
it) at Braga; and Portugal did not like, to say the least of it, the
filling of most of the leading commands by British officers.
Soult had already been somewhat isolated. In front of him were
Portuguese levies, with Wellesley at their back; behind him the country
swarmed with guerillas; his line of communication with Madrid and the
main army by Amaranthe on his left was closed by the Portuguese under
Silviera; on his right lay the sea and British ships of war. He had no
resource but to abide events, and these came under the personal conduct
of Wellesley, though meanwhile Soult had himself freed his line of
retreat by defeating Silviera.
Guarding the approaches from Spain by detachments at Abrantes,
Santarem, and Alcantara, the English general marched against Oporto;
directing Beresford to cross the Douro higher up and threaten the
French line of retreat by Amaranthe. After some skirmishes he reached
the south bank of the river, where the pontoon bridge had been
destroyed, and all the boats removed to the north bank. He decided
on effecting the passage of the Douro, _en plein face_ of the enemy,
and the tactics adopted are typical of such an operation. He menaced
the mouth of the river, where gunboats were collected, as if with the
intention of transferring his army by these means to the north bank of
the estuary; he despatched Murray to turn the Oporto position at the
ford of Avintas, a short distance up stream; he selected a re-entrant
bend which was covered by a commanding artillery position at the
convent of Serra; he recognised the tactical value of a seminary on
the north bank, opposite the re-entrant, and, utilising some boats
discovered by Colonel Waters, one of the staff, the troops embarked,
and the seminary was occupied. But it must be noticed that “it was not
until Sir Arthur had become aware of Murray’s passage higher up the
Douro at Avintas,” that he gave the order, “Well! let the men begin to
cross.” Then the French awoke, but it was too late. Desperate fighting
occurred at the seminary gate, but the artillery on the Serra hill was
too powerful, and the enemy began to withdraw from the town, whereupon
the Portuguese passed boats across to Villa Nova, immediately opposite
the city, where the pontoon bridge had been. There the guards, under
Sherbrooke, crossed, and the French retired in haste by the Amaranthe
road, to find that place occupied by Beresford; so that Soult had to
continue his retreat in disorder, and that by a more circuitous route,
pursued by Sherbrooke and harassed by guerillas.
It is interesting here to record that a little later, when Colonel
Waters was taken prisoner, he effected his escape when guarded by
four gens d’armes, owing to the mere speed of his horse, and this
notwithstanding that “he was on a wide plain, and before him and for
miles behind him the road was covered with French columns. His hat
fell off, and, thus marked, he rode along the flank of the troops;
some encouraged and others fired at him, and the gens d’armes, sword
in hand, were always close at his heels. Suddenly he broke at full
speed between two of the columns, gained a wooded hollow, and, having
thus baffled his pursuers, evaded the rear of the enemy’s army, and
the third day reached headquarters, where Lord Wellington, knowing
his resolute, subtle character, had caused his baggage to be brought,
observing that he would not be long absent.”[35]
But danger from the main French army, under Victor and Lapisse,
threatened the southern part of Portugal. Hearing of Soult’s disaster,
the French fell back again on Talavera, where, facing them, was the
ill-disciplined Spanish army under Cuesta. With the latter Wellesley
proposed to co-operate and advance against Madrid. So he marched,
after making arrangements for the defence of Oporto, by Abrantes and
Placencia, where the concentration with the other Portuguese forces
available was effected, to Oropesa. There he was joined by Cuesta, an
old man of crabbed temper and of great self-conceit, and the combined
army advanced on Talavera.
Here Wellesley first had practical experience of the weakness of his
Spanish allies. The talk of their generals and officers “was like the
maddest boastings of Don Quixote, their conduct in action was that of
his squire.”[36] Supplies promised were not forthcoming. Plundering
was therefore far from uncommon, and the British army was by no means
well disciplined at that time. Even their own general recognised this.
“The army,” he writes, “behaves terribly ill. They are a rabble who
cannot bear success any more than Sir John Moore’s army could bear
failure.... They plunder in all directions.” But they were only very
raw soldiers after all, and hungry men are not easily kept in order
when food exists, and they can have none of it unless they take it by
force. At Talavera, for example, the men had only “a few ounces of
wheat in the grain throughout that day” of battle. Cuesta obstinately
took his own line, and suffered for it. He would not attack the
French, when Wellesley proposed to do so, but went to bed! Taking the
initiative himself afterwards, he was roughly handled, and fell back
in disorder, but was finally persuaded to make a stand at Talavera.
The Allies numbered some 53,000 men, with 100 guns, of which the
British counted 19,000. The French, under the nominal supreme command
of Joseph, numbered 50,000 seasoned troops and 80 guns. These took the
offensive. Early in the day, some 10,000 of the Spanish broke and fled,
taking Cuesta with them. Whittingham, formerly the military attaché at
Baylen and now brigadier, helped to stop the gap thus made by bringing
up some Spanish battalions of stiffer metal. So the army held its own,
the French fell sullenly back, and thus ended the first day’s battle.
At daybreak, the combat was renewed, and, owing to the intense heat
of the day, somewhat intermittently. During one of these lulls, both
combatants ran to assuage their thirst at a stream that ran between the
armies, and conversed amicably until the bugler on both sides sounded
the “fall in,” and the recent friends met again as foes. So the battle
was renewed with varying fortune, until, as evening drew on, the French
retired to their original position.
During the latter part of the day a vigorous cavalry charge was made by
the 23rd Light Dragoons and Arentschild’s Hussars of the German Legion
on the head of a French column, but, meeting with a deep ravine, the
former plunged confusedly into it; but they still managed to reach the
enemy’s square, where they were practically annihilated, though they
undoubtedly paralysed the enemy for a time. But Arentschild, wiser in
his generation, wheeled aside, exclaiming, “I will not kill my young
mens.”
* * * * *
On the 29th July, Crawford’s Light Division, the 42nd, 52nd, and 95th,
joined the army after a march of forty-two miles in twenty-six hours,
during which each carried sixty pounds’ weight, in a time of extreme
heat, and went on outpost duty at once![37] Verily they were men in
those days, when khaki suits and sun-helmets were not.
The victory of Talavera made Sir Arthur my Lord Viscount Wellington,
with a pension of £2000 a year, and placed its name on the colours
of the 3rd Dragoon Guards, 14th Hussars, 16th Lancers, Coldstream
and Scots Guards, the 3rd, 7th, 24th, 29th, 31st, 40th, 45th, 48th,
53rd, 60th, 61st, 66th, 83rd, 87th, and 88th Regiments of the line.
A gold medal was also granted to all officers above the rank of
lieutenant-colonel, who had served at Corunna and Talavera.
Meanwhile, Soult was again advancing, and now in great force, on
Placencia, which place he reached without opposition, as Cuesta had
failed to guard the Baños Pass as he had promised. Wellington, unaware
of this, marched to it; while the advance of Joseph again rendered a
retreat, in presence of such numbers, unavoidable. Cuesta fell back,
abandoning both Spanish and British wounded to French generosity, which
was not misplaced.
Finally, the Spanish were defeated in a series of small affairs,
while Wellington had crossed the Tagus at Arzobespo. Winter quarters
were taken up in the valley of the Mondego, when the Spaniards were
defending Ciudad Rodrigo on the one hand, and Beresford was covering
Almeida on the other; but the cessation of hostilities, in other parts
of Europe about this time, enabled Napoleon to pour considerable
reinforcements into the Peninsula, and to attempt once again the
invasion of Portugal. Then, by the summer of 1810, the French had three
corps (Victor, Mortier, and Sebastiani) in Andalusia; Joseph, with
24,000 men, in Madrid; and three corps (Ney, Regnier, and Junot), to be
united under the “spoiled child of victory,” Massena, who was selected
to invade Portugal, and prove that on this occasion, at all events,
fortune was going to “spoil the child.” There were three roads by which
this invasion could be effected,--from Oporto, from Badajoz, and from
Salamanca by Almeida and the Coa. This latter route was watched by
Crawford with some of the Light Division.
Here occurred the first skirmishes along the Coa, which were brilliant
rather than useful; and the army, falling back before Massena, who
captured Ciudad Rodrigo and Almeida, took up a position on the Busaco
Sierra, as much with the view of restoring the morale of troops already
becoming disheartened by retreat, as for checking the enemy. “It was,
in fine, a political battle, and Wellington afterwards called it a
mistake.”[38] The delay in attacking enabled Wellington to further
strengthen his position on the ridge, eight miles long, the flanks
of which rested on the Mondego on the right, and on some precipitous
ravines on the left; and the French attack on it was conducted with the
greatest boldness and impetuosity.
Though strategically unnecessary, the battle is interesting tactically,
as showing clearly the method of fighting frequently adopted, that
of the defensive; and it compares the French columnar formation--the
ranks of the companies being three deep, covered in their advance by
skirmishers--with the linear formations of Frederick the Great and
Wellington. Napier’s description of Busaco is singularly vivid:--
“Crawford, in a happy mood for command, made masterly dispositions.
The tableland between him and the convent was sufficiently scooped to
conceal the 43rd and 52nd Regiments drawn up in line; and a quarter
of a mile behind them, on higher ground and close to the convent, the
German infantry appeared to be the only solid line of resistance on
this part of the position. In front of the British regiments, some
rocks, overhanging the descent, furnished natural embrasures in which
Ross’s guns were placed; and beyond them, the riflemen and Caçadores
were placed as skirmishers, covering the slope of the mountain. While
it was still dark, a straggling musketry fire was heard in the deep
valley; and when the light broke, three heavy masses, detached from
the Sixth Corps, were seen to enter the wood below and throw forward a
profusion of skirmishers. One of them, under General Marchand, emerging
from the dark chasm and following the main road, seemed intent to turn
the right of the Light Division; a second, under Loison, made straight
up the face of the mountain against the front; the third remained in
reserve. Simon’s brigade, leading Loison’s attack, ascended with a
wonderful alacrity; and though the light troops plied it unceasingly
with musketry, and the artillery swept through it from the first to
the last section, its order was never disturbed nor its speed in the
least abated. Ross’s guns were worked with incredible quickness, yet
the range was palpably contracted every round. The enemy’s shot came
singing up in a sharper key; the English skirmishers, breathless and
begrimed with powder, rushed over the edge of the ascent, the artillery
drew back, and the victorious cries of the French were heard within a
few yards of the summit.
“Crawford, standing alone on one of the rocks, had been intently
watching the progress of the attack; and now, with a shrill tone,
ordered the two regiments in reserve to charge. The next moment, a
horrid shout startled the French column, and 1800 British bayonets went
sparkling over the brow of the hill. Yet so brave, so hardy were the
leading French, that each man of the first section raised his musket,
and two officers and ten men fell before them. Not a Frenchman had
missed his mark--they could do no more. The head of the column was
violently thrown back on the rear, both flanks were overlapped at the
same moment by the English wings, then terrible discharges at five
yards’ distance shattered the waving mass, and a long track of broken
arms and bleeding carcases marked the line of fight.”
At this battle were engaged the 1st, 5th, 9th, 38th, 43rd, 45th,
52nd, 74th, 83rd, 88th, and the Rifle Brigade. During the pursuit and
retreat, both armies plundered somewhat, and three men were hanged at
Leira by Wellington for this crime; while skirmishes with the rearguard
occurred frequently, showing that the armies were still in close touch.
This emphasises the prescience of Wellington in preparing for this
emergency. The temporary abandonment of Spain was due entirely to one
cause, and that he early and fully recognised. “I have no motive,” he
writes, “for withdrawing the British army from Spain, whether of a
political or military nature, excepting that which I have stated to you
in conversation--namely, a desire to relieve it from the privations of
food which it has suffered since the 22nd of last month; privations
which have reduced its strength, have destroyed the health of the
soldiers, and have rendered the army comparatively inefficient.”
Writing after the battle of Talavera, on the 31st July, he says: “It is
positively a fact that during the last seven days the British army has
not received one-third of its provisions, and that at this moment there
are nearly four thousand wounded soldiers dying in hospital from want
of common assistance and necessaries,” and this while the Spanish army
was well fed. In such a case, even an attempt at embarkation might have
been disturbed even more seriously than at Corunna, unless preparations
to meet such an emergency were made, let alone the moral effect of
such a withdrawal from the Peninsula. Hence, long before, the “lines
of Torres Vedras” had been begun, and carried on with the greatest
secrecy. Massena was not aware, apparently, of their existence. Those
who did know, thought the works were merely for the protection of
the capital, and to cover the embarkation if decided on. They were
rather too extensive for either. They were in three lines, covering
the five roads converging on Lisbon; the outer line was twenty miles
from Lisbon, and twenty-nine miles long, extending from the Tagus to
the mouth of the Zizambre; the second line, eight miles in rear, was
twenty-four miles long, equally strongly fortified; the third line,
which was to cover embarkation, enclosed an entrenched camp, with Fort
St. Julian, a place of strength. In all there were one hundred and
fifty redoubts, and six hundred guns; and British marines joined hands
with the army and Portuguese in defence, while British gunboats guarded
the flanks of the Torres Vedras lines.
Behind them, in all, were 130,000 combatants, of whom 70,000 were
regulars.
Massena made sundry partial efforts against the lines, and then fell
back on a fortified position at Santarem; while Junot, after capturing
Badajoz and besieging Cadiz, had left Victor to continue the siege,
and moved to join his chief; but he was turned back by the news that
General Graham had, by transferring a force from Cadiz by sea, assailed
the French lines at Barrosa. The Grenadiers, Scots and Coldstream
Guards, and the 28th, 67th, 87th, and Rifle Brigade distinguished
themselves in the battle, and Sergeant Masterton, of the 87th,
captured the first eagle taken in the Peninsular War. Thus to their
former nickname of the “Faugh-a-ballagh,” or “Clear-the-way Boys,” was
possibly added that of the “Aiglers.” The battle had lasted but one and
a half hours when the French retired.
In the meantime, Massena was steadily getting weaker, while his
immediate adversary was getting reinforced; and he therefore determined
on a retreat, which was “marked by a barbarity seldom equalled, and
never surpassed.”[39] Wherever they bivouacked, “the scene was such
as might have been looked for in a camp of predatory Tartars, rather
than in that of civilised people. Food and forage, and skins of wine,
and clothes, and church vestments, books and guitars, and all the
bulkier articles of wasteful spoil were heaped together in their
huts, with the planks and doors of the habitations which they had
demolished. Some of the men, retaining amidst this brutal service the
characteristic activity and cleverness of their nation, fitted up their
tents with hangings from their last scene of pillage, with a regard to
comfort hardly to have been expected in their situation, and a love
of gaiety only to be found in Frenchmen.” It was not for four days
that Wellington was aware that the French were retreating; but as soon
as he could concentrate, he commenced a pursuit, in which a series
of brilliant skirmishes and rearguard actions were fought at Pombal,
Redinha, Condeixa, Cazel Nova, and Foz d’Aronce.
Beresford was detached to besiege Badajoz. At Sabugal, which Wellington
describes as “one of the most glorious actions British troops were ever
engaged in,” the 43rd, with four companies of riflemen, practically
checked the whole of Regnier’s corps, with artillery and cavalry added,
and even captured one of the enemy’s howitzers.
These operations resulted in Massena’s abandonment of Portugal, and his
retirement by Ciudad Rodrigo to Salamanca, having lost thirty thousand
men since he had crossed the frontier a year before.
Throughout the whole of this campaign, the greatly, preponderating
numbers of the French had been minimised by the usual jealousy and
want of co-operation between the French marshals. Only Napoleon’s
master-hand could keep them in hand, and make them work to a common
end. The difference between the conduct of the war from the time he
advanced by Vittoria on Madrid and dispersed the Spanish armies, and
that after his return to France, is too marked to require comment.
CHAPTER XI
THE PENINSULAR ARMY: (_c_) ITS REWARD--1811-14
The previous campaign had practically terminated with the French
evacuation of Portugal. Only Almeida and Badajoz on and about the
frontier line were held, and blocked an advance eastward into Spain;
but beyond the former in that direction lay the stronger fortress of
Ciudad Rodrigo. The two first were besieged or blockaded, by Spencer
at the former, and Beresford at the latter, Wellington lending aid to
either wing as required; and both sieges brought on a battle, that in
the north, Fuentes d’Onoro, where Wellington commanded, and Albuhera in
the south, where Beresford had charge.
Massena, with 40,000 infantry, 5000 cavalry, and 36 guns, moved towards
Almeida, and was met by Wellington, with a force of 32,000 infantry,
1200 cavalry, and 42 guns, at Fuentes d’Onoro, but the Portuguese were
of little value. Supplies had as usual been deficient, and ammunition
was wanting.
The battle presents few features of professional interest. As the Light
Division fell back before the advancing French, there was a skirmish
at Gallegos on the 2nd May, and at Fuentes d’Onoro on the 3rd May; but
the real battle there was not fought until the 5th, and was of a very
desperate character. To say the least, it was indecisive, though the
French claim the victory, as, though they did not themselves advance,
Wellington retired to re-form. But Massena neither raised the siege of
Almeida, nor advanced farther into Portugal. It is rather in personal
incidents that this “soldiers’ battle” is noteworthy. Here it was that
the tactical conditions of artillery were reversed, and the guns
charged through a French column. “A great commotion was observed in
their main body; men and horses were seen to close, with confusion
and tumult, towards one point, where a thick dust and loud cries, and
the sparkling of blades and the flashing of pistols, indicated some
extraordinary occurrence. Suddenly the multitude became violently
agitated, an English shout pealed high and clear, the mass was rent
asunder, and 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 bounded behind them like things of no weight,
and the mounted gunners followed close, with heads bent low and pointed
weapons in desperate career.”[40]
Here, too, the Connaught Rangers, stigmatised by Picton, because of
their habit of plundering, as “the greatest blackguards in the army,”
drove the French out of Fuentes d’Onoro with terrible loss, in a
gallant charge which even Picton admired. “Well done, brave 88th,” he
exclaimed, as they returned; and in reply to the remark made by some of
the men, “Are we the greatest blackguards in the army now?” responded
with a smile, “No, no! you are brave and gallant soldiers; this day
has redeemed your character.” Besides the 88th, the 14th Hussars and
16th Lancers, the 24th, 42nd, 43rd, 45th, 51st, 52nd, 60th, 71st, 74th,
79th, 83rd, 85th, 92nd, and Rifle Brigade shared in the glories of
the day. Shortly afterwards, Bremner evacuated Almeida without being
opposed by the 2nd Queen’s, whose regimental badge is the Paschal Lamb,
or the 4th King’s Own, whose badge is the Lion, and hence arose the
following doggerel, the authorship of which is unknown:--
“The ‘Lambs’ were asleep,
The ‘Lions’ were at play,
The Eagle spread his wings
And ’tween them flew away.”
The battle led to the fall of Massena, who was recalled to France, and
Marmont took his place in command of the northern army. Ten days after
Fuentes d’Onoro, the news reached Wellington of Soult’s advance against
Beresford; but though he started to reinforce him with the 3rd and 7th
Divisions, he was not in time to share in the bloodiest battle of the
whole of the Peninsula, that of Albuhera, in which Beresford, with the
Spanish troops under Blake and Castanos, fought to cover his siege of
Badajoz, with the grave anxiety lest defeat should lead to a fresh
invasion of Portugal. Out of the 30,000 men which composed the Allied
force, but 7000 were British, and these were the 3rd Dragoon Guards,
the 3rd, 7th, 23rd, 28th, 29th, 31st, 34th, 39th, 48th, 57th, 60th, and
66th Regiments; and of them only 1800 men were unwounded when the fire
ceased.
The Spaniards on the right were first attacked, and soon gave way, and
for the rest of this short four hours’ fight, the brunt of battle lay
with the British contingent. The men behaved with valour extraordinary
even in those days of hard, continuous fighting; and there was heavy
need for it. The Allied right was practically _en l’air_, with
sufficient cover close to a dominating hill, which was not held, to
make a flank attack easy. Against this Girard, with the 5th Corps and
Latour-Maubourg’s Cavalry, were early moved.
Here, when the Spanish broke, was moved Colborne’s Division, one
brigade of which had three of its regiments, the 3rd, 66th, and 48th,
almost destroyed, and only the 31st had time to form square. There
was bitter fighting, round the colours of the Buffs especially, and
confusion reigned supreme for a moment in the right wing. But soon
the 29th pressed into the fight, and on them the Spaniards somewhat
rallied. As their colonel, Duckworth, fell, he cried, “Die hard,
my men, die hard!” whence comes their honoured nickname of the
“Die-hards.” Richly they deserved it, for out of 25 officers 22 fell,
of 570 rank and file 425 were killed or wounded, and the king’s colour
bore thirty bullet wounds.[41]
The battle was almost lost when Colonel Hardinge on his own
responsibility called up Cole’s Brigades, one of which was composed of
the 7th and 23rd Fusilier Regiments, and thrust him into the confused
fight on the right, while Allen turned round to regain Albuhera, which
had been abandoned. The fresh reinforcements were irresistible, though
the fire was terrible. “The Fusilier Battalion, struck by the iron
tempest, reeled and staggered like sinking ships; but, suddenly and
sternly recovering, they closed on their terrible enemies, and then was
seen with what a strength and majesty the British soldier fights. In
vain did Soult with voice and gesture animate his Frenchmen, in vain
did the hardiest veterans break 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 itself bear up, and, fiercely striving, fire
indiscriminately upon friends and foes, while the horsemen, hovering
on the flank, threatened to charge the advancing line. Nothing could
stop that 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 on their front,
their measured tread shook the ground, their dreadful volleys swept
away the head of every formation, their deafening shouts overpowered
the dissonant cries that broke from all parts of the tumultuous crowd,
as, slowly, and with a horrid carnage, it was pushed by the incessant
vigour of the attack to the farthest edge of the hill. In vain did the
French reserves mix with the struggling multitude to sustain the fight,
their efforts only increased the irremediable confusion; and the mighty
mass, breaking off like a loosened cliff, went headlong down the steep.”
The losses of individual regiments were enormous. In the 23rd so many
officers had fallen that Corporal Robinson brought his captain’s
company out of action; and the 57th left on the field 23 officers and
400 men out of a total of 570. For this it bears the laurel wreath,
only carried by the six Minden regiments.
So victory remained with the Allies, though little aid had been given
by the Spaniards. The French retreated on Seville in fair order, having
captured several colours, one gun, and some prisoners. Albuhera was
essentially a soldiers’ battle. It was won by sheer hard fighting.
The army now turned to renew the siege of Badajoz, the capture
of which, as well as Ciudad, was essential for further offensive
operations. But though several daring efforts were made to storm the
breaches made, the siege had to be raised on the approach of the
combined forces of Marmont and Soult.
After much manœuvring, marching, and counter-marching on both sides,
during which, at the brilliant little affair of El Bodon, the 5th
charged the French cavalry with fire and bayonet; and at Arroyo des
Molinos, where Girard was surprised by Hill, who, after a forced
march, made a night attack, and the 92nd stormed the village to the
somewhat appropriate tune of “Hey, Johnny Cope, are ye waukin’ yet.”
The brilliant action resulted in the dispersal of the corps, with the
loss of all its artillery, baggage, and military chest, at a cost
of but a few killed and wounded; but though the 9th and 13th Light
Dragoons, as well as the 92nd, 50th, 71st, and 34th took part in the
action, only the standards of the last-named regiment bear the name of
Arroyo des Molinos, the sole case of a battle _not_ a general action
being inscribed on the colours. For capturing the 34th Battalion of
French infantry there, the 34th long wore a red and white pompon; and
it is said, when the French battalion surrendered, the French officers
embraced their English confrères with the words, “Ah, messieurs, nous
sommes des frères, nous sommes du trente-quatrième régiment tous deux.
Vous êtes des braves. Les Anglais se battent toujours avec loyauté et
traitent bien leurs prisonniers.”
There were skirmishes elsewhere, as at Tarifa, where the 47th, 87th,
and 95th Regiments successively defended the breach, and where the 13th
Light Dragoons, the 28th, 34th, 50th, 71st, and 92nd Regiments were
engaged; but this was only preparatory to the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo
and Badajoz, both of which were stormed, and fell. Their capture,
with the seizure of the bridge of Alcantara (which improved the
communications) and the destruction of that of Almanza (which severed
the direct communication between Marmont and Soult), finally opened
the doorway into Spain. In the attack on Ciudad the 5th, 43rd, 45th,
52nd, 60th, 74th, 77th, 83rd, 88th, 94th, and Rifle Brigade shared,
and the men plunged into wild excesses in the sack which followed, and
which the officers seemed powerless to check. It cost the Allies a
total loss of 1702, including Crawford of the Light Division, who was
killed, while Colborne, Gurwood (who afterwards edited the Wellington
Despatches), and Major George Napier, all of the 52nd, were wounded.
But Marmont’s siege train was captured.
At Badajoz, whither Wellington had proceeded after Fuentes, curiously
enough the garrison was never summoned to surrender--an omission for
which many French writers unreservedly blame him, as being an act
contrary to the usages of war, and savouring of a feeling of revenge.
Be that as it may, the place was invested on the 17th March, while Hill
covered the siege against Soult, and on the 7th April was stormed, with
the terrible loss of nearly 5000 men. The defence was most gallant
and desperate. For two hours the storming column tried in vain to
mount the principal breach, defended by mines, _chevaux de frise_ of
sword-blades, and a close fire of musketry, grape, and hand-grenades,
and then fell back sullenly to re-form. But, as in other cases, though
this the “real attack” had failed, the “false attack” had succeeded,
and the 4th, followed by other regiments, penetrated into the town
by escalade. So the place surrendered, and its fall was succeeded by
a butchery more dreadful than that of Ciudad. Men were “literally
drowned in brandy.” Soldiers and camp--followers behaved equally
disgracefully. For two days and nights there seems to have been no
check to the horrors. There was nothing but “shameless rapacity, brutal
intemperance, savage lust, cruelty and murder. Shrieks and piteous
lamentations, groans, shouts, imprecations, the hissing of fires
bursting from the houses, the crashing of doors and windows, and the
reports of muskets used in violence, resounded through the town.”
The plan of the siege itself was by no means a brilliant effort of
genius, and the cost in human life serious. But for the fortunate
action of the 4th, the storming column must have retired with a loss of
3500 men, having effected nothing. The only excuse for the storm of so
strong a place after so brief and imperfect a siege was the necessity
for breaking open this doorway into Spain. The end was believed at
the time to have justified the means, no matter how horrible. The
best excuse is, that the British army was too weak to mask it, dared
not delay for a prolonged siege, which might have led to a French
concentration in overwhelming numbers, and could not pass it by. It was
the old argument of necessity. The regiments who shared in the honours
and dishonours of Badajoz were the 4th, 5th, 7th, 23rd, 27th, 30th,
38th, 40th, 43rd, 44th, 45th, 48th, 52nd, 60th, 74th, 77th, 83rd, 88th,
94th, and Rifle Brigade.
The affairs of Almanza and Alcantara have been already referred to, and
other means were now taken to distract the attention of the French.
The guerillas, more and more exasperated, renewed their efforts at
annoyance, and never were they more successful. It is even said it
took some thousands of men to escort a simple despatch! Under cover
of all this, Wellington moved on Salamanca, and after a brief delay
captured the forts the French had erected to guard the town, and pushed
forward to the Douro, behind which Marmont had retired, holding all
the passages. Then came a series of brilliant manœuvres, in which
the French general once marched fifty miles without a check, and
finally sought to turn the Allied right, so as to seize the road to
Ciudad Rodrigo. Both armies for many hours marched parallel to, and
within sight of, one another, and so marked was the early success of
the French in this manœuvring, that on the 21st, Wellington had more
than half decided to retreat. But the next day fortune favoured him.
Marmont, in his anxiety to close the Ciudad road, overreached himself,
the left wing got separated from the right, and Wellington, seizing the
opportunity, poured in at the gap, and in forty minutes the French
left wing was badly beaten; and but that the Spanish had abandoned the
guard of the Alba ford, the whole army must have been to all intents
and purposes destroyed. Many regiments, both of horse and foot, shared
in the glories of the battle of Salamanca. It was the most skilful of
any of Wellington’s victories, as showing a tactical appreciation of
the situation, which is often not so apparent elsewhere. He understood
the selection of a good position, and how to encourage the fighting
power of his men, to which, in most cases, the success of his battle
may be chiefly attributed. At Salamanca, though he behaved with skill,
the adversaries’ mistake was so glaring as to be apparent to a general
of far meaner capacity.
The troops engaged had been the 5th Dragoon Guards, the 3rd, 11th,
14th, and 16th Light Cavalry Regiments, and the 1st, 2nd, 4th, 5th,
7th, 9th, 11th, 23rd, 24th, 27th, 30th, 32nd, 34th, 36th, 38th, 40th,
43rd, 44th, 45th, 48th, 51st, 52nd, 53rd, 58th, 60th, 61st, 68th, 74th,
79th, 83rd, 88th, 94th, and Rifle Brigade. The result of the operations
so far was, that Marmont, with 42,000 men and 74 guns, had, in twelve
days, marched 200 miles, fought three combats and one general action,
and had lost 1 marshal, 7 generals, and 12,500 men, with 2 eagles,
several colours, and 12 guns.
[Illustration: _BATTLE of SALAMANCA_
_22^{nd} July 1812_]
Pursuing Clauset’s rearguard through Valladolid, which fell back on
Burgos, to be watched by Clinton, the victorious general entered Madrid
in triumph, and there his temporary success suffered a check. There was
the usual complaint; want of supplies and want of cash. The “troops
are now five months in arrears,” he writes, “and we are in debt in all
parts of the country.” Clauset, reorganised, had reoccupied Valladolid,
and Wellington decided on turning against him, and, if possible,
capturing Burgos. But the preparations were notoriously meagre, the
defence bold; so that after five assaults the attempt was abandoned,
and Wellington was compelled to once more retreat to Portugal. The army
had become greatly demoralised by the failure of the Burgos siege.
While the assaults had failed, all the sorties had been more or
less successful. There were skirmishes in the retreat, but the conduct
of the troops was, with the general exception of the Guards and the
Light Division, bad. As in Moore’s retreat, drunkenness prevailed. At
Torquemada 12,000 men were for a time useless. Doubtless the hardships
were severe. “Sometimes divisions were moved too soon, more frequently
too late, and kept standing on wet ground, in the rain, for two hours,
perishing with cold, waiting the order to move. Their clothes were
seldom dry for six hours together, and during the latter part of the
retreat continually wet; sometimes they were bivouacked in a swamp when
better ground was near, they lay down upon the wet ground, fell asleep
from mere exhaustion, were roused to receive their meat, and had then
no means of dressing it. The camp kettles had been sent on, or by some
error were some miles in the rear, or the mules which carried them had
foundered on the way, and no fire could be kindled on wet ground, with
wet materials, and under a heavy rain.”[42]
Meanwhile, the French were concentrating in superior numbers; and, with
more and more indiscipline and suffering, the army, with a loss of 9000
men and much baggage, finally encamped exhausted under the walls of
Ciudad Rodrigo.
The first serious attempt to reconquer Spain had failed, save for the
moral effect of the occupation of Madrid, the defeat of the French at
Salamanca, and the restriction of the French armies now to the northern
part of Spain. It was, none the less, the beginning of the end.
That end, the “deliverance of Spain,” dawned in the early days of 1813,
when all the Allied armies were reorganised, and had recovered their
tone.
Napoleon, too, was no longer in a position to help the armies whose
opponents were bleeding his empire to death. Russia first, and then
united Europe, were keeping his hands far too full to attend to a
danger almost nearer home. The last French campaign in the Peninsula
was like that in Central Europe in the same year, 1813, a campaign
of despair. The numbers on both sides were more equal than they had
ever been. The Allies had learned in the bitter school of dreadful
experience, and were better organised and somewhat more homogeneous and
concentrated than their opponents.
The general plan of Wellington’s last campaign here was to directly
threaten the French communications with France. It will be remembered
that there were but two real lines of invasion from that country, one
at the east, the other at the west of the Pyrenees. So, threatening the
French right, the strong line of the Douro, behind which the French
army lay, was turned at Toro. They fell back behind Burgos, therefore,
and then behind the line of the Ebro. This, again, was turned at its
upper reaches by a most difficult march. “Neither,” says Napier, “the
winter gullies, nor the ravines, nor the precipitate passes amongst the
rocks retarded even the march of the artillery--where horses could not
draw, men hauled; when the wheels would not roll, the guns were let
down or lifted up with ropes--six days they toiled unceasingly, and on
the seventh (that is, 20th June), they burst like raging streams from
every defile, and went foaming into the basin of Vittoria.”
* * * * *
So the battle area of Vittoria was reached, and Joseph stood to fight
on a front parallel to his line of retreat on Bayonne. As Wellington
had been _strategically_ turning the right of the general line of
defence so far, so in the battle he _tactically_ continued the same
idea, and the result was complete. “Never,” says Napier, “was an
army more hardly used by its commander, and never was a victory more
complete”; while General Gazan writes that the French “lost all their
equipage, all their guns, all their treasure, all their papers, so
that no man could prove even how much pay was due to him; generals and
subordinate officers alike were reduced to the clothes on their backs,
and most of them were barefooted.”
[Illustration: _Private 20^{th} Reg^{t} 1812._]
The following regiments were engaged in the battle:--3rd and 5th
Dragoon Guards, 3rd, 14th, 15th, 16th, 1st, 2nd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th,
9th, 20th, 23rd, 24th, 27th, 28th, 31st, 38th, 39th, 40th, 43rd, 45th,
47th, 48th, 50th, 51st, 52nd, 53rd, 57th, 58th, 59th, 60th, 61st, 66th,
68th, 74th, 79th, 83rd, and 84th.
The deliverance of Spain was nearly complete. Only the extreme
north-west of Spain and that close to the frontier was left to Joseph,
erstwhile King of all Spain. Even this was soon abandoned. Joseph fell
back by Pampeluna, and this, with San Sebastian, was blockaded. The
former eventually capitulated, and the latter, which was to furnish a
new base of operations for Wellington, now too far from Portugal to
use his former base, was stormed by the 1st, 4th, 9th, 38th, 47th,
and 59th, and fell. Desperate as was the gallantry of the troops,
especially of the 52nd, the other side of the picture showed horrors
and utter indiscipline, far worse even than those which disgraced the
storm of previous sieges. The soldiery perpetrated villainies which
would have shamed the most ferocious barbarians of antiquity. At Ciudad
Rodrigo intoxication and plunder had been the principal object; at
Badajoz lust and murder were added to rapine and drunkenness; but at
San Sebastian the direst, the most revolting cruelty was added to the
catalogue of crimes.[43]
After sundry operations, including the series of extraordinary combats
classed as the “Battles of the Pyrenees,” in which the 2nd, 3rd, 6th,
7th, 11th, 20th, 23rd, 24th, 27th, 28th, 31st, 34th, 36th, 39th, 40th,
42nd, 45th, 48th, 50th, 51st, 53rd, 57th, 58th, 60th, 61st, 66th, 68th,
71st, 74th, and 79th took part, the lines of the Bidassoa, Nivelle, and
Nive were successively forced. In these actions the above regiments
took part, as well as the 5th, 9th, 20th, 32nd, 38th, 43rd, 46th, 52nd,
62nd, 82nd, 83rd, 87th, 88th, 91st, 94th, 84th, 85th, and Rifle Brigade
and 16th Lancers.
Finally, after further actions at Bayonne and the passage of the Adour,
the last important battles took place at Orthez and Toulouse, and the
long war in the south was practically at an end.
At Orthez were the 14th Hussars, and the 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, 94th, and Rifle Brigade. There had been,
in addition, minor actions at Bordeaux and Bayonne, and at the latter
place war rockets were used for the first time in the British Army; but
these actions effected little, and were the last expiring struggles of
the Peninsular War. For a time, at least, there was peace in Europe.
The British marched across France, and embarked for England and
America. The Spanish and Portuguese armies retired to their respective
territories, and the French armies dispersed over France. The now fully
established standing army of Great Britain had, notwithstanding the
indiscipline and violence that at times unfortunately characterised its
fighting, earned a reputation which it has never lost. Its undaunted
courage had broken down altogether the civilian fear of an army. It was
for the future only to be regarded economically or financially, not as
a possible danger to the public peace. There was scarcely a family,
hardly a village throughout the land which had not to mourn, but mourn
with pride, the loss of some of its sons. It had earned the respect of
foe as well as friend. It had dauntlessly shown that Englishmen were
not afraid to die. This spirit is touchingly referred to by Thorburn in
some poetry relating to a drummer boy of the 43rd, a regiment that, now
linked with the 52nd, and, like it, in Peninsular days a component part
of the famous Light Division, distinguished itself from the Coa to the
Pyrenees. As the story is told, it is that of an old grenadier who, in
the rush of the charge which then formed the most important element in
battle, as fire and the bullet do now, was wounded, but struggled on to
find in his way
“’Twas a little drummer boy, with his side
Torn terribly with shot;
But still he feebly beat his drum,
As though the wound were not.
But when the Mameluke’s wild horse
Burst with a scream and cry,
He said, ‘O men of the Forty-third,
_Teach me the way to die_.’”
And so the story goes on to tell how the wounded grenadier, with a
bullet in his hip, pressed on into the fight, to fall himself later.
The story is, of course, probably mythical, but there is a certain
_ring_ in it that shows the spirit of those old fighting days.
Equally mythical is that of the drummer boy and Sergeant Matcham in the
Ingoldsby “Legend of Salisbury Plain,” where “one Mr. Jones,” hearing
certain groans, states--
“That he followed the moans, and, led by their tones,
Found a raven a-picking a drummer boy’s bones!
Then the Colonel wrote word,
From the King’s _Forty-third_,
That the story was certainly true that they heard.”
It must not be imagined that the final result of the war on the French
side was other than creditable in the highest degree to Soult. No one
recognises this more than Napier, and his eulogy is worth quoting.
“Vast combinations, inexhaustible personal resources, a clear judgment,
unshaken firmness and patience under difficulties, unwavering fidelity
to his sovereign and his country, are what no man can justly deny him.
In this celebrated campaign of nine months, although counteracted by
the treacherous hostility of many of his countrymen, he repaired and
enlarged the works of five strong places, and entrenched five great
camps with such works as Marius himself would not have disdained; once
he changed his line of operations, and, either attacking or defending,
delivered twenty-four battles and combats. Defeated in all, he fought
the last as fiercely as the first; remaining unconquered in mind, and
still intent upon renewing the struggle, when peace came to put a stop
to his prodigious efforts. These efforts were fruitless, because Suchet
renounced him; because the people of the south were apathetic, and
fortune was adverse; because he was opposed to one of the greatest
generals of the world at the head of unconquerable troops.”
Wellington, patient under difficulties, had fully succeeded in his task
of freeing the Peninsula from French domination. And if at Salamanca
he showed a tactical skill which stands out in contrast to some of his
other victories, the final campaign of Vittoria shows a strategical
grasp which is not, in the opinion of foreign experts in the art of
war, so brilliantly apparent in the years before 1813-14. But one thing
may be mentioned, of which many are now ignorant. A common cry among
the French throughout the prolonged war was the cruelty with which
their prisoners in England were treated. The charge embittered the
already bitter contest, and though foreign nations were little better
than ourselves, if at all, there was more than a sub-stratum of truth
in what was openly proclaimed in France.
However much abuse may have been lavished on France in the time past,
and which lives to our shame and sorrow below the surface even now,
this is one of the evil heritages of that war-stricken time. This
is the recorded story of how the prisoners were treated: “They were
consigned in huge batches, like so many convicts, to the hulks at
Chatham and Portsmouth, and to inland prisons at Dartmoor and in some
rural districts of Scotland. The history of the hulks is one simple
tissue of horrors. The Government had no active wish to maltreat
its prisoners, but the officials placed in authority over them were
often rude, and oftener drunken, and did not understand the character
of their guests. Worse than that, they did not care about such
understanding; and at the time it was rather patriotic than otherwise
to detest a Frenchman. The prisoners were not systematically starved,
but they were fed as men-of-war’s men were then victualled--on weevilly
biscuit, salt junk, and jury rum. They had no means of cooking their
food in their own fashion; they were pent-up between the decks of
old vessels, all but deprived of exercise, and denied the commonest
appliances of cleanliness. So they had the scurvy, dysentery, typhus,
and a host of other ailments; now and then an epidemic would break
out among them, and they would die like sheep afflicted by the rot.
The most horrible profligacy was rampant on board those floating
pandemoniums. The prisoners had nothing whatever to do, and vast
numbers of them belonged to the lowest and most ignorant classes.
So they swore and gambled, they quarrelled and fought; scarcely a
week passed in which some fatal duel did not take place among them.
Such were the hulks,--the dreaded _pontons_,--descriptions of which,
not much overcharged, were drawn up by the order of Napoleon, and
distributed among the French peasantry, in order to inflame their minds
against the English.”
Can one wonder at the revengeful feeling that lived afterwards? So
Thackeray thought, in telling with marvellous brilliancy the fictional
story of that 17th of June in Brussels, when “the cannon of Waterloo
began to roar,” when “from morning until past sunset” the sound never
ceased, and “it was dark when the cannonading stopped all of a sudden.
“All of us have read of what occurred during that interval. The tale
is in every Englishman’s mouth; and you and I who were children when
the great battle was won and lost, are never tired of hearing and
recounting the history of that famous action. Its remembrance rankles
still in the bosoms of millions of the countrymen of those brave men
who lost the day. They pant for an opportunity of revenging that
humiliation; and if a contest, ending in a victory on their part,
should ensue, elating them in their turn, and leaving the cursed legacy
of hatred and rage behind to us, there is no end to the so-called
glory and shame, and to the alternation of successful and unsuccessful
murder, in which two high-spirited nations might engage. Centuries
hence we Frenchmen and Englishmen might be boasting and killing each
other still, carrying out bravely the devil’s code of honour.” No one
who lives now but must most fervently hope that the remembrance of that
evil heritage may be buried so deep as never to rise again!
CHAPTER XII
THE ARMY IN THE NETHERLANDS--WATERLOO, 1815
The Peninsular campaigns had, by the process of constantly “pegging
away,” to use Abraham Lincoln’s expression during the American Civil
War, resulted in sapping the strength of France, and led to the
emperor’s deposition. Perhaps it was not the main cause of his fall
after all; but it was the one open wound that bled the French to death,
when all other districts of Europe were in awe-full peace. The kingdoms
and empires of Europe had either successively fallen, or been cowed by
the mighty genius of Napoleon. Spain and Portugal, almost the least of
these European peoples, had been the only nations who continuously and
persistently stood out against his usurpation. It is more than probable
that, without England’s aid, even their patriotic stubbornness might
have broken down. They wanted active help, practical sympathy, and
money. All these England provided, taking the fact that she was not
then very rich and populous, without stint. How her efforts to aid in
the great aim of crushing the dominance of France, doubtless through
motives that were based on natural and national selfishness, were
responded to, the whole of the history of the Peninsular War clearly
shows. There were only barren honours to the chiefs, utter and cruel
ingratitude throughout to the men who, ill fed and scornfully treated,
fought the battles of Spanish generals and soldiers, who were hardly
worth fighting with or for. Omit England’s part in the great Peninsular
struggle, and there is scarcely a single case in which the Spanish or
the Portuguese either fought a good fight or played a straight game. In
both countries France had friends, and in both countries, therefore,
were traitors to their own cause, and still more to that of their
British allies.
Whatever was the result of the hard work and fighting in the Peninsula
from 1808 to 1814, the British certainly owe no debt of gratitude to
either Spain or Portugal. The utter ingratitude of both nations towards
the insular power who alone of all the nations of Europe gave them
practical help, is more than apparent. The Iberian Peninsula was, and
is, full of the graves of brave men who fought to save a country that
had not the intelligence to save itself. Its coffers were filled with
hard-earned British gold, which they had not the grace to acknowledge.
But the long war did one thing. It trained British officers and British
soldiers to fight the last great fight in Europe for many a year.
Though the army at Waterloo contained but a proportion of the
Peninsular veterans, the glory of the work they had done, the
conviction of their own military masterfulness, the memory of what the
army had been there, was a great factor in the final struggle against
the greatest military power in Europe, when that final struggle came.
The teaching and the glory of the Peninsula made raw soldiers fight at
Quatre Bras and Waterloo as brave men should. Peninsular victories had
wiped out the remembrance of many years of either only partial success
or actual defeat, and had carried the enthusiastic morale all armies
should have back to the best days of Blenheim and Ramilies.
Thus things were when the return from Elba was devised, and, “with the
violets in the spring,” Napoleon returned to France. At the moment of
his return the French army numbered in round numbers about 150,000 men,
and this he speedily increased to 200,000, a small body to meet the
huge masses that were putting themselves in motion for his destruction.
There were the Russians about Poland, numbering 280,000; the Austrians
were 250,000 strong; Prussia alone could furnish 200,000 men; and, in
addition, there were the minor German states, as well as Portugal and
Spain. Holland and Belgium were not to be firmly reckoned on in case of
disaster, but, stiffened by the British and Prussians, they might find
it difficult to avoid casting in their lot with the other nations, and
even assume an enthusiasm that possibly was only superficial. To stand,
centrally situated, on the defensive, was but to invite disaster; and
the time required for the close concentration of the enormous Allied
mass could be calculated with tolerable certainty, though railways
were not. For a time at least, therefore, the nations east of the
Rhine could be disregarded, but those north of the Sambre came under
a different category. They were closer, and therefore within striking
distance. They could not only be got at quickly, and possibly be
defeated, before the eastern armies could arrive to their assistance,
but in case the emperor felt compelled to move towards the Rhine, they
might assail him in flank, attack his communications, and even capture
his capital. Finally, the Brussels road marked the line of junction of
two allies who spoke different languages, and who had not fought side
by side before. This joint, then, was the element of weakness. If it
could be broken through, the French might, like a wedge, split asunder
this flank of the coalition, and, if fortune favoured Napoleon, might
destroy in detail two of his nearest enemies. Besides, something _must_
be done, and this course would soonest of all carry the war out of
France. Across the frontier the British army covered the front from
the Charleroi-Brussels road to Ostend, and the Prussians extended the
arc eastward to Liège. The former numbered about 106,000 men (of whom
about 34,000 were British, and the remainder Germans, Hanoverians,
Brunswickers, Nassauers, Dutch, and Belgians), with its base of supply
between Ostend and Antwerp; the latter 117,000, with its base on the
lower Rhine. Thus the area covered by the troops had a frontage of
about 100 miles and a depth of nearly 40. Opposed to them was a compact
French army of 125,000 men.
[Illustration: _CAMPAIGNS of WATERLOO (1815) & MARLBOROUGH._]
On the other hand, the Allies did not care at first to take the
initiative, though they were enormously superior in number.
Each had his own views as to what their great antagonist would do.
Wellington had, throughout, made up his mind that the emperor would
attack his right and sever his communications with the sea, although
such a course would force the concentration of the two possibly
undefeated armies. So determined was he that this view was correct,
that even on the supreme day of Waterloo he had detached at Halle some
10,000 men to guard the flank that was not even threatened. In his
first and last meeting with Napoleon he did not grasp his adversary’s
skill. He was planning an invasion of France at the moment the French
tricolors were crossing the frontier. On the other hand, Blucher, with
the difficult country of the Ardennes between his line of communication
and the enemy, was necessarily not so anxious for his outer flank, and
was quite prepared to fight opposite Charleroi.
[Illustration: THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON]
With Napoleon, decision and execution followed rapidly one on the
other. The army was quickly and secretly concentrated, and after
issuing an address appealing to past glories, in which direct reference
is made to the English “prison ships,”[44] it crossed the Sambre on
the 15th June, and the outposts became engaged; but when night fell,
only a portion of the French army were on the north bank of the stream.
The staff work had been bad, and an important order was not received
in time, because it was sent by one orderly instead of in duplicate by
two, and he had a bad tumble. Then began the series of delays which
were among the many causes that led later to the emperor’s defeat at
Waterloo.
The left wing under Ney was so long in closing up to Quatre Bras, that
the British troops at the end of the day outnumbered their opponents,
and D’Erlon’s corps had been swinging pendulum-like between the two
battlefields of Ligny and Quatre Bras, to be useful at neither. Turning
to the Allied side, Blucher had readily gauged the French plan, if
Wellington had not. The night sky, reddened with the glare of many
fires on the night of the 14th June, had warned the advanced corps
of Ziethen that a large force lay in front of him, the details of
which were told him by the deserter Bourmont, who was received with
scant courtesy by the honest old Prussian. “It is all one,” he said
in German, when he noticed the white cockade of the Bourbons in the
general’s hat, “what a man sticks in his hat, a scoundrel remains a
scoundrel”; and so, dismissing him, he carried out the concentration
of his army towards Ligny. Here, on the morning of the 16th, the
French right wing, under Napoleon’s personal leadership, forced back
the Prussians, and after a severe conflict, which lasted till night,
drove them back, he thought in the direction of Liège, practically in
the direction of Wavre. But when defeated, Blucher’s “noble daring” in
deciding on falling back on Wavre rather than Liège, “at once snatched
from Napoleon the hoped-for fruits of his victory, and the danger Ligny
had for a few hours averted was left impending over him.”
On the other flank, there is much to be said. There seems little doubt
that false reports from France had lulled Wellington into a feeling of
security for which, as results proved, there was little basis; and to
this may be added the somewhat futile demonstrations against his right
front.
Even when the passage of the Sambre by the French army was actually
known, on the afternoon of the 15th, still he delayed his decision,
and merely _orders_ for the concentration of his widely-spread units
were issued. When at night the news was confirmed, the general tenor
of the orders pointed rather to a concentration at Nivelle than on the
Charleroi road; yet he knew by then that imposing masses of hostile
troops were north of that place. Had Ney been vigorous and rapid,
nothing could have prevented the separation of the Allied armies.
That this was not so, was due to the independent initiative of a
Dutch-Belgian general, Perponcher, who assembled his command at Quatre
Bras, without orders, only a mile or two from the French bivouac, on
the night of the 15th June. Then came the celebrated ball when--
“There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium’s capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men;
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look’d love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell;
But hush! hark! A deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
Did ye not hear it! No; ’twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o’er the stony street;
On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined:
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet--
But hark! That heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat;
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!
Arm! Arm! It is--it is the cannon’s opening roar.”
After the ball, the Prince of Orange, anxious for orders, was told by
the duke, it is said, to “go to bed”; but he started instead for Quatre
Bras, which his chief did not reach until eleven o’clock.
Then the duke rode to Ligny and conferred with Blucher. At this
conference he agreed, against apparently his own and Müffling’s
opinion, to move to the right rear of the Prussians and act as a
reserve, _provided he were not attacked himself_. To do so he must have
moved by the Namur Chaussée, which passes through Quatre Bras. To do so
at all, therefore, that point must first be securely held. To have made
a flank march in the very presence of the enemy, and to have left his
own line of advance, towards which his troops were converging, exposed
to danger, would but have been to court disaster. To lend any aid
whatever to Blucher, Quatre Bras was his first case. But Herr Delbruck,
in his _Life of Gneisenau_, makes the assertion that the battle of
Ligny was only fought on the assumption that 60,000 men would form on
their right to strengthen, and if necessary prolong, their line on this
side, while Müffling, on the other hand, clearly points out that the
promise to come to Ligny was quite conditional--“provided,” to use the
duke’s own words, “I am not attacked myself.”
Moreover, for the Prussians to fight at Ligny can scarcely be
considered optional. Like the action at Quatre Bras, it was
unavoidable, unless they retreated at once on Waterloo; for if
Wellington were obliged to engage the enemy in order to check his
advance and complete his concentration, it was equally Blucher’s only
choice to give battle at Ligny so as to enable Bülow to join him.
But now comes in a very remarkable statement made by Gneisenau, who
was the chief of staff to the Prussian army which Blucher commanded
in chief. He was the thoughtful brain thereof, as his chief, old
Marshal “Vorwarts,” was the fighting leader. Excellent as the latter
was at carrying out with abundant energy a plan entrusted to him,
the devising of that plan was given to more able and accomplished
students of the art of war. Gneisenau was esteemed one of these, and
the Prussian plan of co-operation with Wellington is probably due
mainly, if not entirely, to him. This fact must be borne clearly in
mind in criticising his comments on the campaign in which he took so
prominent a part. Moreover, he was next in command to Blucher, and
was thus placed with the object of assuming supreme authority over
the Prussian army, should such an eventuality as the temporary or
permanent disablement of Blucher render his services necessary. Such an
eventuality occurred at Ligny, and the retreat to Wavre was therefore
directed by Gneisenau, although the final operations of the Prussian
army, which led to so brilliant a result as the battle of the 18th
June, were superintended by Blucher himself. Gneisenau’s position,
therefore, was difficult and delicate. In supreme command all the
honours of victory would be his; acting as second in command, only a
reflection of that glory would fall upon him. Some allowance must be
made, therefore, for his views with regard to the campaign, if only for
the sake of the possible reason that his judgment was embittered by the
fact that, in the opinion of the world, to Wellington and to Blucher,
not to Gneisenau, the successful issue of the most momentous battle
that the world has seen was mainly due.
It is difficult to understand without some such charitable assumption
the bitterness of his remarks regarding the English Commander-in-chief,
which are so prominently brought forward in the fourth volume of his
life. Not only does he comment in an almost contemptuous spirit on the
early dispositions of Wellington before the hostile armies came into
contact, but he accuses him of a want of _camaraderie_ which is foreign
to the English character, and with which Wellington cannot fairly be
charged.
None the less, the Prussian leader plainly and brusquely considers that
he was guilty of culpable slowness in concentrating after the French
had attacked Ziethen’s outposts on the Sambre on the 15th June, and
charges him with dilatoriness in issuing the necessary orders on the
receipt of the intelligence that the Prussian outposts were so engaged,
and with want of loyalty to his Prussian allies in not rendering them
active assistance at Ligny.
The two first of these may be dismissed without comment. They were
matters of opinion, and, rightly or wrongly, Wellington took his own
view regarding them, and must abide, like other men, by his acts, and
submit to honest criticism. But the last is more serious, for it is not
only stated that Ligny would _not_ have been fought, had it not been
for Wellington’s asserted promise to help, but that he promised in case
of disaster to fall back, with a portion of the army at least, with
Blucher to the Rhine. Gneisenau’s charge is both venomous and explicit.
He compares his own impression with the want of cordial feeling that
undoubtedly frequently existed between the duke and the Spanish
generals in the Peninsula; but this is such an _ex parte_ statement as
to merit little rejoinder.
The evidence of every officer who shared in the glories and troubles
of the Peninsular campaigns bears full testimony to the jealousy, and
want even of courtesy, sometimes shown by the Spaniards, both towards
the army that was fighting for the deliverance of the country and the
chief who commanded it. It was not Wellington only who experienced
this difficulty of operating with the Spanish allies of the British.
Lord Lynedoch[45] very fully supports the accusation of incompetency,
jealousy, and uncordiality against the Spanish generals. After the
battle of Barrosa, his letters and despatches refer frequently to his
own difficulties with them; and as a general officer acting somewhat
independently of the principal British army, his corroboration of the
generally received opinion is valuable and trustworthy.
It is unjust in the extreme to draw any comparison between the want of
unanimity that frequently existed in Spain, and the enforced inability
of Wellington to come to the assistance of Blucher on the field of
Ligny. But Wellington wrote a letter, which is quoted in detail in Herr
Delbruck’s _Life of Gneisenau_, in which this controversy arises. It
runs as follows:--
“SUR LES HAUTEURS DERRIERE FRASNES,
_le 16 June 1815, á 10 heures et demi_.
“MON CHER PRINCE,--Mon armée est situé comme il suit. Le corps
d’armée du Prince d’Orange a une division ici et à Quatre Bras
et le reste à Nivelles. La Reserve est en marche de Waterloo
sur Genappe, où elle arrivera à midi. La cavalerie Anglaise
sera à la même heure à Nivelles. Le corps de Lord Hill est à
Braine le Comte.
“Je ne vois pas beaucoup de l’ennemi en avant de nous, et
j’attends les nouvelles de votre Altesse; et l’arrivée des
troupes pour decider mes operations pour la journée.
“Rien n’a paru du côté de Binche ni sur notre droit.--Votre
très obeissant serviteur,
“WELLINGTON.”
Much capital is made out of this document. It is assumed that
Wellington made a promise which he must have known could not be
fulfilled. And the still graver charge is implied that the letter
was intentionally misleading. It seems scarcely credible that such
a view could be maintained, knowing the good feeling that obtained
between him and all the Prussian leaders except Gneisenau. Moreover,
Wellington’s own army was not so good, so homogeneous, or even so
numerically superior to that of the French as to render his chance of
fighting the emperor single-handed, when his troops were flushed with
victory, a successful one. The political feeling of the Belgians, the
sympathy undoubtedly felt by many with the French, a sympathy only half
concealed in many cases, would be an additional reason for his being
very far from desirous of in any way opposing the concentration of the
Allied armies.
At the time specified there was, judging from his own statement as
to the reconnaissance, little doubt in his mind but that no serious
attack would be made on Quatre Bras; and he evidently intended to move
to Ligny unless prevented. As to the actual position of his corps,
he seemed to have indicated where they might possibly be by the time
when the letter was written, rather than where they actually were; the
errors in position of the different corps averaging ten miles. He seems
to have forgotten, however, that by the after order of 10 p.m. on the
15th June, Picton had been directed to march along the Namur road, only
“to the point where the road to Nivelles separates,” _i.e._ near Mont
St. Jean. Clausewitz’s view that the halt there was designedly made
until after the interview with Blucher is, as Colonel Chesney remarked,
“obviously inconsistent” with the known time of Picton’s appearance
with the leading division at Quatre Bras. As a matter of fact, he
apparently overrated his power of concentration and the movement of his
brigades, though there seems no reason to doubt but what they might
have been, on the whole, very nearly in the positions assigned had they
moved with ordinary speed.
Be all this as it may, the battle of Quatre Bras began. At the cross
roads there, at 2 p.m. on the 15th June, were 7000 Dutch Belgians and
16 guns, against 17,500 French infantry and cavalry and 38 guns, who
speedily drove back the outposts at Frasnes, and were pressing them
still farther back through the wood of Bossu on the Allied right when
the first reinforcements came. These were Pack’s Brigade, composed
of the 42nd, 44th, 92nd, and 95th; Kempt’s Brigade, of 28th, 32nd,
79th, and 1st, and a Hanoverian Brigade of four battalions, with
two more batteries; and thus from 3.30 to 4.30 the Allies numbered
20,000 men with 28 guns, against 18,000 with 44 guns. Now, therefore,
Picton, with whom the duke “was barely on speaking terms,” made a
counter attack on the left, with the usual result that the fire of the
line drove back the enemy’s skirmishers which covered the advance of
their columns, and these, broken by fire against their mass and then
charged with the bayonet, fell back too. But on the other wing, the
right, there was some confusion. The Brunswickers there had fled, both
horse and foot, and their duke was wounded. The 42nd in the tall rye
grass were somewhat rolled up, as they were not in square, while the
44th, assailed in front as well as rear, faced both ranks outwards,
and reserved their fire to twenty paces. So the enemy’s charge swept
on across the field from right to left until the 92nd checked it
and compelled it to retire. Meanwhile, the Bossu wood on the right
was lost, and the French heavy cavalry in vain charged the British
squares, but broke up the 69th, whose order to form square had been
countermanded by the Prince of Orange. So the fight fluctuated until
between 5 and 6 p.m., when the Allied troops now numbered 32,000 men
and 68 guns (against 20,700 and 50 guns) by the arrival of the Guards
and some Brunswickers. Then the whole force advanced, and victory
rested with them. Thus the battle ended at about 6.30 p.m., and at that
time, even if D’Erlon had joined Ney, the French left would still have
been outnumbered. But Wellington, writes the ablest critic of this
momentous campaign, “at dusk, thirty hours after his first warning, had
only present at Quatre Bras three-eighths of his infantry, one-third of
his guns, and one-seventh of his cavalry. Truly, in holding his own,
the great Englishman owed something that day to fortune.”[46]
This is really the gravamen of Gneisenau’s charge. During the night
the Allied right wing was reinforced to 45,000 men, but, short as
the distance between the wings was, showing how less intimate the
connection between the Allied armies was than it should have been,
Blucher’s left wing was beaten and in full retreat, and the English
general did not know the fact till late.
So retreat was unavoidable, and was begun at 10 a.m. on the 17th.
Wellington was to fall back on the known position of Waterloo. Blucher
had promised to come with his whole army if he could. Napoleon had
despatched Grouchy with 33,000 men to prevent this, and keep the
Prussians on the move; but the emperor’s own ill health and failing
strength had again caused delay; so Grouchy started late, and Napoleon
wasted his time in rest and a review.
The British retreat was well conducted in wretched weather, and despite
the heavy ground, there was some rearguard fighting, chiefly by the
cavalry on both sides. At length, on the sodden ground about Mont St.
Jean, both armies settled down for what rest was possible, and waited
for the dawn. Thus the British prepared for battle, with the hope that
Blucher, or the certainty that night, would come on the 18th June 1815.
But still, with a firmness that seems degenerating into obstinacy,
Wellington persisted in his nervous anxiety for his right flank, as he
had done throughout, and stationed some 10,000 men out of his small
army at Hal. His excuse that the troops were inferior is futile, for he
had battalions of a precisely similar character on the battlefield of
Waterloo. He must have known, from the extent of front occupied, that
the bulk of the French army were in front of him. He must have guessed
that some considerable force had been despatched to keep the defeated
Prussians on the move. He knew that the distance of Hal was such as to
preclude the possibility of any further considerable detachment from
the main French army being made, as it would be entirely isolated from
the main battle.
His force was none too strong to hold the position till Blucher came.
His centre was weak and reserves were insufficient. By ten o’clock,
thinks Shaw Kennedy, “it is difficult to understand how any fear for
the Hal road could have existed.” None the less he left ten thousand
men, under the Prince of Orange, not only unemployed, but likely to
remain unemployed.
There, unfortunately for them, were left a brigade of Dutch Belgians
and one of Colvile’s Division, that of Johnston, comprising the 35th,
54th, 59th, and 91st Regiments.
Whether Wellington ever rode to Wavre to personally arrange with
Blucher as to his co-operation or not, is one of those things which
cannot be proved. That it was quite possible, that the distance apart
of the two Allied armies was such that it could be easily done, that
Wellington, not unnaturally anxious, might have thought of it, all
might have been. But it is not proved, any more than the myth that
later on he hoped that “night or Blucher might come.” To accept the
first part of the wish as true would mean that the retreat of a beaten
or at least shaken army through a forest at night was a matter of no
difficulty, which is absurd; to assume the latter part is reasonable,
inasmuch as the blow so struck must have assailed the French rear. It
is probable he did see then the necessity of the Prussian help, and,
so seeing, might have tried to ensure it by a personal talk with his
stout-hearted ally.
The position selected for the battle lies almost at right angles to the
road between Brussels and Charleroi, is about two miles long, and only
about three-quarters of a mile from that held by the French. Its folds,
of equal height with those held by the French, fairly concealed all the
troops but those immediately in front line; its gentle slopes merged
easily into those southward of it. On its left were the roads that led
to Wavre and Blucher, whose general line of march must inevitably lead
to an attack on the village of Planchenoit in rear of the French right
wing, and only about half a mile from their line of retreat by the
Charleroi road.
The position, finally, had three strong advanced posts: on the right,
the Château of Hougomont; in the centre, the small farm of La Haye
Sainte; and on the left those of Papelotte, La Haye, and Smohain;
while the right wing, extending towards Braine la Leud, was somewhat
strengthened by Merbe Braine in rear of it.
As this is the last and most momentous battle of the long war, it will
be well to examine briefly the dispositions made on both sides, for
what practically, then as now, were the three lines of battle.
Commencing on the extreme left, where the ground was somewhat flat,
and to cover the right hand of the two roads by which the Prussians
intended coming if they could, were the brigades of Vivian and
Vandeleur, made up of the 10th and 18th Hussars, the 1st Hussars of
the King’s German Legion, and 11th, 12th, and 16th Light Dragoons;
Perponcher’s Dutch Belgians, holding in advance the farms in front, and
with one brigade (Bylandt’s) extended to their right, on the exposed
and open slopes of the ridge; Vincke’s and Best’s Brigades; Pack’s,
formed of the 1st, 3rd, 1-42nd, 2-44th, and 92nd; Kempt’s, whose right
rested on the Charleroi road, having the 28th, 32nd, and 79th, the
latter of which detached three companies in advance to hold the knoll
of La Haye Sainte, on the east side of the road.
This formed the left wing of the first line. West of the Charleroi road
came Ompteda’s, Kielmansegge’s, and Halkett’s (30th, 33rd, 69th, 73rd),
the right of which rested where the Mound of the Lion now stands, and
Ompteda detached the 2nd light battalion of the King’s German Legion
to hold La Haye Sainte in advance; the two Guards Brigades under Byng
and Maitland (2nd Coldstream and 2nd and 3rd Foot Guards) extending to
the Nivelles road, with Hougomont held in front by the light companies
of the division of Guards and some Nassau and Hanoverian troops; and
then echeloned back came Du Plat’s Brigade and Adam’s Brigade (the
52nd, 71st, 2-95th, and 3-95th), in advance of which was extended
from Hougomont to well the other side of the Nivelles road (which
was abattised) the 4th Brigade, composed of the 14th, 23rd, and 51st
Regiments. Its right flank was covered by a squadron of the 15th
Hussars, which linked it to the Dutch Belgians at Braine la Leud.
Thus the first line, often further subdivided into two parts, held the
ridge, with a series of advanced posts and advanced troops in front,
covered throughout by skirmishers.
The second line, from right to left, was mainly cavalry. Grant’s
3rd Brigade (7th, 13th, 23rd Light Dragoons) to the Nivelles road;
Dornberg’s (23rd, 1st, 2nd Light Dragoons and one of the King’s German
Legion) to the Charleroi road; the 3rd Hussars of the King’s German
Legion; and across the Charleroi road Somerset’s Heavy Brigade (the
1st and 2nd Life Guards, the Royal Horse Guards, and the 1st Dragoon
Guards), with on its left Ponsonby’s Union Brigade, composed of the
1st, 2nd, and 6th Dragoons.
In the third line behind the right was a Hanoverian Brigade in Merbe
Braine, and extended as far as the Charleroi road were the Hanoverian
Hussars, the Brunswick Corps, Collaert’s Division, and Lambert’s
Division (4th, 27th, 46th) when they came up.
The artillery were distributed freely by batteries along the front of
the line, and some held in reserve; but there was no concentration
of artillery. The proportion of each line seems to have been, out of
50,000 infantry, for the advanced posts, 6000 men; in main or first
and second line, 31,000 men; in reserve, 13,000 men. These were formed
when in line two, three, or even four deep, and Shaw Kennedy formed Von
Alten’s Division, each battalion (or pair of battalions) in column on
a front of two companies, whence they at first formed line to re-form
column and square when attacked by cavalry. The whole of the front was
covered by skirmishers. But it will be noticed again how much stronger
the right wing is than the left, owing to the rooted and unfounded
conviction that Wellington held that his right would be chiefly
assailed. And yet it is evident that if the weak left wing were once
broken through, the battle might be lost. Thus the proposed point of
junction of the Allied armies, the junction that could alone inflict a
telling disaster on the French, this which was all-important to allied
as distinctive from local success, was more or less _en l’air_.
On the French side also there were three lines, and these formed and
marched in eleven columns, of which four were to form the first, four
the second, and three the third line. They executed the movement in the
most perfect order.
The first line was composed of Reille’s Corps, 15,000 strong, in two
lines of columns, ranks three deep, and having on its left the light
cavalry of the corps (fifteen squadrons in three lines); and D’Erlon’s
Corps (16,000 strong and similarly formed), the eleven squadrons of its
own light cavalry in three lines being on its right.
The second line was composed of, from the left, Kellerman’s
Cuirassiers; in two lines fifty feet apart, Lobau’s Corps, in mass of
battalion columns; and the light cavalry of Daumont and Subervie and
Milhaud’s Cuirassiers.
In the third line was Guyot’s heavy cavalry of the Guard, then the
Guard itself, drawn up in a column six lines deep, and on its right the
Lancers and Chasseurs of the Guard under Lefebvre.
When any attack was made, the attacking force formed into a smaller
number of larger columns (D’Erlon’s Corps, for example, forming five),
and all were thickly covered by light infantry skirmishers.
The artillery was more or less massed, especially on the right, and
came into action, on several occasions, as at La Haye Sainte, within
two hundred and fifty yards of the infantry. There is no doubt that
until the battle was well advanced, Napoleon believed he was going to
win. Reaching the field on the evening of the 17th, and finding the
enemy in position, he is reported to have said, “I wish I had the power
of Joshua to arrest the sun, that I might attack the enemy to-day.”
Even the next morning he, though imagining the Allied force in front
of him was superior in numbers, considered, “We have at least ninety
chances to a hundred in our favour.”
Nor was Wellington less sanguine. Blucher had promised that “I shall
not come with two corps only, but with my whole army,” and Blucher
was likely to prove a man of his word; but the weather and the roads
rendered it improbable that he should join hands with him, seriously,
till the afternoon was well advanced. As he rode along the line
between 9 and 10 a.m. on the 18th, he was cheered. He was wearing a
blue frock-coat and white buckskin pantaloons, with Hessian boots
and tassels, a white cravat, a low cocked hat without a plume, but
ornamented with a black cockade for Britain, and three smaller for
Spain, Portugal, and the Netherlands. In his right hand he carried
a long field telescope drawn out and ready for use. General Alava,
who joined him from Brussels, found him under a tree observing the
movements of the advancing French. “How are you, Alava?” said he,
laughing. “Bonaparte shall see to-day how a general of Sepoys can
defend a position!”
The general conduct of the battle can best be briefly described by a
series of attacks or phases, though, naturally, the fire both of guns
and skirmishers along the entire front of battle throughout the day
never ceased. The first attack was made at 11.30 by Reille, against the
right at Hougomont, the artillery of that corps being reinforced by
Kellermann. This resulted in the British being driven from the wood and
garden of the house, but not from the buildings themselves. Still, it
had been a very close affair. The Guards, in falling back to the house,
had not time to close the door of the yard before the French were on
them, and severe hand-to-hand fighting ensued; but finally Colonel
Macdonnell and a few men managed to close it, killing all the French
who had penetrated. It was the narrowest escape of capture Hougomont
had. As it was, some of the outbuildings were in flames, and the fire,
curiously enough, only ceased at the feet of a wooden image of our
Saviour.
The second attack was delivered at 1.30 by D’Erlon, against the left
and centre, with the whole of his corps, first in four great columns,
and finally, as the right-hand column split in two against the farms,
into five. But though they temporarily gained Papelotte and the gardens
of La Haye Sainte, the only tangible success on the French side was
the retreat in some haste of Bylandt’s Brigade. One of the main causes
of the failure of the attack was the vigorous offensive taken by
Ponsonby’s and Somerset’s Brigades. It was during this period that
Picton, who had been wounded at Quatre Bras and concealed it, fell dead
while cheering on Kempt’s Brigade; and Sergeant Ewart of the Greys, and
Captain Clarke of the Royal Dragoons, each by the capture of an eagle
in the charge, gained for those regiments the distinction of the eagle
badge on their appointments. The charge of the Heavy Brigade, too,
must have recalled mediæval days, for, meeting the French Cuirassiers,
the clash of weapons upon armour was, as Lord Somerset said, “like so
many tinkers at work.” When the French fell back to re-form, La Haye
Sainte, the real key of the position, was reinforced, but only by two
companies, and the 92nd Regiment had by then been reduced to less than
300 strong. The French cavalry attack began at 4 p.m. on the right
centre. The fierceness of the attack had lulled for a while; there had
been no effort of a serious nature against the right during the second
phase. The cannonade continued there, as it did equally on the left
after D’Erlon fell back.
But now there was to be a change in the method of attack, and Milhaud’s
Cuirassiers, forty squadrons strong, crossing from the right, advanced
into the gap between La Haye Sainte and Hougomont,--a frontage of
about 1000 yards only,--to attack in lines of columns the British and
other regiments opposed to them, which threw themselves into squares.
Thrice Milhaud attempted to break them, and, failing, was driven back
by the British cavalry to re-form. Then, at 5 p.m., those who were
left, together with Kellermann and Guyot, seventy-seven fresh squadrons
in all, made the same desperate effort. But by six o’clock this too
had failed. The ground was strewn with the bodies of horses, lancers,
cuirassiers, carbiniers, chasseurs, horse grenadiers, hussars, light
and heavy dragoons, and the mighty mass of horsemen was practically
destroyed, and that mainly by infantry and artillery fire.
Now the Prussian army was fully _en évidence_. As early as 4.30,
Bülow’s corps from Wavre had reached the field, and had so hotly
engaged the French that Lobau’s corps and the cavalry division of
Subervie and Daumont had been detached to oppose him; and by six
o’clock they had to be reinforced, from Napoleon’s last reserve, by
eight battalions of the Guard, or one-third its total strength, when
Blucher had developed on, and in rear of, the French right flank,
29,000 infantry and 64 guns. The second attack on the centre by Ney
occurred between five and six. It was mainly directed on La Haye
Sainte, which was carried after desperate fighting, and the poor
remnants of the King’s German Legion, who had fought magnificently
until they were short of ammunition, were almost annihilated. Hougomont
and the whole of the right centre had meanwhile been again assaulted,
though without result; but when La Haye Sainte fell, the English centre
was, for a brief space, broken. The French, pressing in, inflicted
heavy losses on the brigades on either side of the Charleroi road,
especially those of Ompteda and Kielmansegge. Between Halkett’s brigade
on the west of the Charleroi road, and Kempt’s on the right, there was
a great gap. So dire had been the slaughter, that at one time the duke,
pointing to a mass of killed and wounded men of the 28th and 73rd,
asked what square that was so far in advance. It was a critical moment
in the battle.
But here Wellington’s coolness in the ordering of a battle stood him in
good stead. Says Kennedy: “This very startling information he received
with a degree of coolness, and replied to in an instant with such
precision and energy as to prove the most complete self-possession,
and left on my mind the impression that his Grace’s mind remained
perfectly calm during every phase, however serious, of the action; that
he felt confident of his own powers of being able to guide the storm
which raged around him; and from the determined manner in which he
then spoke, it was evident that he had resolved to defend, to the last
extremity, every inch of the position which he then held. His Grace’s
answer to my representation was in the following words, or very nearly
so:--‘I shall order the Brunswick troops to the spot, and other troops
besides. Go you and get all the German troops of the division to the
spot that you can, and all the guns that you can find.’”
So the gap was filled and the danger ceased; but, “most fortunately,
Napoleon did not support the advantage his troops had gained at this
point by bringing forward his reserve, proving that he did not exert
that activity and personal energy in superintending and conforming to
the progress of the action, which he ought to have done.”
It was all too late now. Ney had pressed for reinforcements, to
receive the reply, “_Où voulez-vous que j’en prenne? Voulez-vous que
j’en fasse?_” How could he indeed? Blucher was close at hand now with
three corps, and was forcing the French right and rear from Smohain to
Planchenoit, with 52,000 infantry and 104 guns.
The fifth and last French attack was made at 7.30, with the Guard on
the right centre, and these, with all other available divisions and the
cavalry, made for the first time a general assault along the entire
line.
Ten battalions of the Guard formed into two columns and pushed up the
slopes between La Haye Sainte and Hougomont, covered by skirmishers;
but the storm of fire in front, and especially in flank, by Colborne’s
judicious management of the 52nd, was too severe. A gallant effort
was made by the picked soldiery of France to crest the blood-stained,
well-defended heights; but the game was played out, and “the Guard
turned and fled.” “_Tout est perdu_,” said the half-broken host. “_La
Garde est répousée_”; and even Napoleon at the failure of this final
effort repeated the saying, and finished with, “_Sauvons nous_.” As
the French fell back, the whole Allied line advanced, and though the
defence of Planchenoit still continued up to this moment, that village
too was carried, and the French army of Waterloo ceased to be, and
fled in utter rout to France. It was eight o’clock, and by that time
the loss since the passage of the Sambre amounted to at least 40,000
French, and 30,000 of the Allied troops.
No account of this great and most decisive battle is complete without a
further reference to the Prussian co-operation, and the action Grouchy
may have taken to interfere and prevent what, if it were successful,
must have been decisive as to result. At the end, one French corps,
some battalions of the Guard, and two cavalry divisions were face to
face with some 50,000 men. It will be remembered that Grouchy had been
despatched from Ligny late on the 17th, to prevent this very union of
the Allied wings.
He was 33,000 strong, with 96 guns, and by 8 a.m. on the 18th, the
morning of Waterloo, was nearing Wavre. It was at Sart-le-Walhain that
he heard the cannon-roar of battle to his left. What was he to do?
Nowadays he would have moved to the sound of the guns, and, however
it might be matter of opinion, such a course would have, to say the
least, not have lessened the helpfulness of the task his chief had
given him. His object was to keep the Allies apart. What he did, did
not. He attacked the Prussians in front of Wavre. To have crossed the
Dyle above Wavre, difficult though it was, might have had two results.
First, he would have turned the Prussian position there where the
stream was less difficult. He must have isolated the corps at Wavre,
and _might have_, by appearing on the flank of the Prussian column of
march on Smohain and Planchenoit, forced one other corps at least, to
form front towards him, and thus checked or “contained” two of the
enemy’s corps. He might have done more with this half-beaten army.
But most of all, he would have, and must have, as the day went on,
by prolonging the French right at Planchenoit, prevented the direct
advance of Blucher on the French right rear and line of retreat. His
very appearance between the Dyle and Planchenoit would have had an
effect, possibly considerable, on the Prussian army. It is immaterial
whether, as the hours flew by, Grouchy could have joined hands with
Lobau at Planchenoit. Blucher might have and would have got one
corps by Sart-le-Walhain on the British left; but it is possible
that all his other corps would have been checked, facing the unknown
danger of Grouchy, between the field of Waterloo and the passages at
Wavre. Doubtless Napoleon made a mistake in not giving Grouchy a more
free hand. He, Grouchy, feared his great chief, and thought literal
obedience to orders was more important than translating those orders.
Not that Grouchy’s appearance near the great field would have prevented
disaster; but it might have prevented rout. There _might_ have been
more men to call on, say the eight battalions of the Guard, when Ney
most wanted them in his further effort against the English centre, and
La Haye Sainte had fallen. Grouchy attacked in front the strongest
part of the Prussian line of defence. Had he _turned_ it, he would
have carried out both his literal and his factual orders to keep the
Prussians back from joining Wellington.
Hence, as Napoleon himself said, “This morning we had ninety chances
for us; this arrival of Bülow loses us thirty.”
But Blucher, unmolested, had only difficult ground to traverse, wearied
troops to encourage, and his promise to help Wellington to keep his
energy at its highest. He was not threatened in his march. Thielemann
could hold Wavre, and so, desperately playing the bold game, he won
success. It was “_toujours l’audace_” over again. He had promised to
come with all he could bring, and he nobly fulfilled his promise. Never
was there a better leader of men in a time of sore anxiety. He knew
he could call upon the personal hatred of Prussians, who remembered,
themselves or through their people, the French occupation of their
country not many years before. His cheering cry in that heavy march,
of “_Kinder, ihr wollt doch nicht dass ich wortbrüchig werden soll_”
touched the heart of every weary, tired man, and “Englishmen ought
never to forget it,” because it made Waterloo not merely a victory, but
a rout. The hard defensive battle is due to the men, both Germans and
English, Wellington commanded. The utter collapse of the French is due
to Blucher’s steadfastness of purpose, and to Grouchy’s too literal
obedience to Napoleon, and his fear of disobeying his direct command.
None the less Grouchy, useless as a subordinate who had to translate
literal orders into practical action, a good divisional leader when
under distinct orders rather than a semi-independent commander, acting
according to his dim “regulation” lights, saved the remnants of his
force with great skill, and might have done more. To the British army
is due much of that marvellous victory, but not all. Until Colonel
Chesney wrote the Waterloo Lectures, all foreign students of the
campaign looked askance at the claim of the British army to have been,
as for long years it was asserted to be, the only great factor in the
great fight. No proud nation should fear to recognise such external
help, and yet, less than fifty years ago, all British soldiers were led
to believe that they alone had won the hard-fought battle, and that
Prussian help at Waterloo was a mere incident, not a great element in
the victory that is due to both.
[Illustration: _Formation of the Lines of Battle at Waterloo 17^{th}
June 1815._]
Thus was Waterloo fought, and lost, and won. “All might have failed,
but for the astonishing staunchness of the English and German infantry
in Wellington’s army. Nothing, in war or in peace, is so trying to the
nerves as passively to await deadly peril, making no effort to avert
it. And never probably in war was greater strain of this nature put
upon troops, than fell on Alten’s and Picton’s divisions at Waterloo.
The Guards and Hanoverians who held Hougomont had more prolonged and
exciting conflict, the heavy cavalry did magnificent service: to
Maitland’s Brigade, and still more to the 52nd, belongs the conspicuous
glory of having given the last crushing blow. But, after all, the chief
honour belongs to the English brigades of Halkett, Kempt, and Pack, and
to the Germans who stood by their side.”[47]
* * * * *
The conclusion of the campaign offers but few points of interest.
The Prussians mainly carried on the pursuit, and it must have been
embittered by all the dreadful history of the past. One can understand
the troopers sabreing till arms were weary, with “_that_ for Jena,
and _that_ for Austerlitz.” There were skirmishes at Namur, Laon,
and Cambrai; Peronne “la Pucelle,” was stormed; and within eighteen
days since the French crossed the frontier, the Allied armies were
before Paris, which soon capitulated, and the great war was over. The
last shot was fired on the 3rd July 1815, when the advanced guard of
the 16th Light Dragoons were entering Paris. Then Ney, “le brave des
braves,” was shot, and Napoleon, surrendering himself to his ancient
enemy, the English, finished his days at St. Helena.
* * * * *
During the prolonged war, which was almost continuous from 1793
to 1815, the actual and permanent increase to the army list had
been considerable, though there had been many fluctuations. Second
battalions to many regiments had been formed, disbanded, restored, and
in some cases given a separate existence. Up to 1805, moreover, the
period of service had been usually for life, but in that year it was
fixed at seventeen years, with the power of re-engagement for twelve
years more.
In 1793, the twelve regiments of infantry, numbering from the 78th to
the 89th inclusive, had been formed. The 90th in Perthshire, and the
91st in Argyllshire, had been raised by private enthusiasm, the former
by “Sir Thomas Graham,” and hence called his “Perthshire Greybreeks,”
from the colour of their breeches; and the latter by the Duke of
Argyll, though it then was numbered the 98th. But the 5th Royal Irish
Dragoons was disbanded for disloyalty during the Irish Rebellion,
though there is but little evidence that the disaffection was general.
It is curious to notice how the frequent and serious cases of mutiny in
the navy found no parallel in the army. Even the above was undoubtedly
much exaggerated, and so strong was the loyal feeling in the army that,
in 1798, the 2nd Queen’s subscribed £100 for the discovery of the
author of sundry seditious pamphlets that were being circulated.
Dress had often changed, though merely in minor details, The
three-cornered hat was replaced, about 1796, by a cylindrical hat,
somewhat like the modern “stovepipe” headdress, but with the side
turned up with a cockade and feather. Black cloth leggings replaced the
white spatterdashes. Powder disappeared in 1796, but pigtails, though
shortened to 7 inches in 1804, were not abolished altogether until
1808. How so ridiculous a fashion had been retained so long it is hard
to imagine. Men were helpless to finish off their headdress for parade
by themselves. “Tie for tie,” and “plait for plait,” was the general
cry in every barrack-room, and woe to the man who had no friend to help
him! The only trace of the absurd custom is the black silk “flash” worn
on the collars of the officers of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers.
The old Hussar dress, with its swinging pelisse, was introduced from
Hungary, where it was the national attire, about 1806, when the 7th,
10th, and 15th Light Dragoons adopted the new name of “Hussars,” and
wore a scarlet shako, instead of the former headdress, the busby;
while by 1820, the 9th, 12th, 16th, and 17th Light Dragoons were armed
with the lance, and appeared in the _Army List_ as Lancers. For their
services at Ciudad, Badajoz, and San Sebastian, the Engineers became
the “Corps of Sappers and Miners.”
One noticeable thing relating to the Highland forces had occurred in
the early part of the period under consideration. Between 1793 and
1809, Scotland had willingly furnished some 70,000 men to fill the
ranks of her national section of the army. But North Britain was not
populous, and the supply of men, more than such a country could afford,
began to fail. There were then one cavalry and nineteen infantry
regiments serving with the colours and wearing the tartan; but already,
as too often occurs at the present time, there were many regiments
which perforce were recruited in England, and were only Scottish by
name and dress. Hence it was that six of these regiments, the 90th,
91st, 72nd, 74th, 75th, and 94th, were ordered to abandon the kilt, and
adopt the ordinary line uniform.
There had been many changes in the form of the sword. At first a broad
two-edged blade, a heavy, hacking weapon with a cross hilt, it was
designed to wound men in armour. Not that, apparently, they ran much
danger, for in many a battle few were killed. The wounds received in
action appear to have been chiefly contusions.[48] The mace or axe was
in armoured days probably more effective than the sword. As armour was
abandoned, and the mail gauntlet discarded, so the hilt became more
complex (as in the so-called modern “claymore” hilt), to guard the
naked, or merely gloved hand. The weapon itself was now made to thrust
as well as cut, and the lighter and thinner blade was stiffened and
strengthened (as in bayonets) with grooves. Finally, about the end
of the last century, and for long after, the merely thrusting rapier
was almost universal, save the hanger or cutlass used by bluejackets.
But fashions change, and the rapier blade widened out into the modern
cut-and-thrust sword, and the simple shell-like rapier guard again
spread out to cover hand and wrist. Swords were worn by the rank and
file of the British infantry battalions up to 1745, the grenadiers
carrying them seventeen years longer.
[Illustration: _Spears & Swords._
_Pike_
_BlkBill_
_Partisan_
_Lochaber Axe_
_Halberd Geo: II._
_Halberd Geo: III._
_Spontoon 1820_
_1350_
_1580_
_Scheavona 1600_
_Claymore 1700_
_Rapier 1800_
_Modern 1896_
]
No infantry weapon has exercised so powerful an influence on the
destinies of mankind as the sword. The _gladius_ conquered the world
not merely because it was a true steel weapon and an excellent fighting
tool, as compared with those of the nations the Romans had to meet,
but because it was carried by men who knew its value. Morale--moral
courage--is induced by a knowledge that one’s weapons are superior to
those of the antagonist. The good sword implies a personal courage,
the intention of closing with the adversary, and an individuality
that no other weapon possesses. At times it had its special religious
aspect. The cross of the Crusader’s sword was the emblem to him of
his faith and of his cause. His prayers said before it, a consecrated
weapon, had all the reverence that would have been attached to prayers
before the Crucifix; his oath upon it was as an oath on the Cross of
Christ. At all periods a ceremonial weapon, now it is mainly so. The
two-handed Sword of State has been carried before kings and princes
and potentates from early days even until now. The dress sword of the
Lord Mayor means but guardian power. The State sword worn by a court
official but implies the defence of the sovereign’s person, and the
right of those surrounding the throne to carry arms. At all times it
has been the emblem of personal authority and governance.
Highly prized as heirlooms in those days when swords were rare, they
often appear in the chronicles of ancient wills. Æthelstan mentions in
his will “the sword of King Offa, the sword which Ulfeytel owned, and
that with the silver hilt which Wulfric made.” Similarly, in old Japan
the father’s sword was a precious heirloom, a sacred charge, and this
feeling has been common among all nations where the profession of arms
was held to be noble, and the arms themselves consequently revered.
Mrs. Norton has touched this chord very tenderly in one of her poems--
“Tell my mother that her other sons will comfort her old age,
For I was but a truant bird, who thought his home a cage;
For my father was a soldier, and even as a child,
My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild.
And when he died and left us to divide his scanty hoard,
I let them take whate’er they would, but kept my father’s sword;
And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine,
On the cottage walls of Bingen, fair Bingen by the Rhine.”
This very feeling caused a certain amount of personality to be attached
to the sword itself. Thus, swords have had fanciful names, as Cæsar’s
“Crocea Mors” (yellow death), Charlemagne’s “Joyeuse,” Mahomet’s “Al
Battar” (the beater), Ali’s “Zulfagar,” and King Arthur’s “Excalibur.”
In other cases they bore mottoes, such as on the Scotch sword which
has--
“At Bannockburn I served the Bruce
Of which the Inglis had no ruse;”
and an Italian blade has on it--
“Draw me not without cause,
Sheath me not without honour.”
In other cases the mottoes are of a religious cast as “_In te Domine_,”
“There is no conqueror but God,” “Do not abandon me, O faithful God,”
and so on. Lastly, some swords bear the names or monograms of the
places where they were made, or persons who forged them. Thus Solingen
in Germany and Sahagun in Spain were noted for sword blades, and the
former is so still. Many of the early makers take their names from the
town in which they worked or were born, as Alonzo de Sahagun and Andrea
di Ferrara did.
After the close of the Peninsular War, the usual rapid reduction of
the national armed strength followed. Hardly had Wellington returned
to England than the Volunteer and Yeomanry Corps, as well as the
militia, were disembodied; but, for the first time, there was a delay
in the reduction of the _regular_ forces. The prolonged war had still
further, for a time at least, caused the nation to forget its former
prejudice against a standing army. It had got accustomed, at least,
to its existence, and on the civil life of the country was reflected
the military glory won by its sons in foreign war. There had been
much almost personal antagonism to the pretensions and aggressions
of France, and this had led, more than anything else perhaps, to the
feeling that the army was after all but an integral portion of the
Commonwealth, and need not be, and had no intention of being, hostile
to the national peace at home. To this gradual increase in political
freedom was added less fear of the sovereign. The time had passed
since any King of England either could, or would, use the army (in the
way the Stuarts wanted to do) as a means of repressing the people or
their freedom. Englishmen had got over this childish dread lest the
soldiery should be used actively against them. The national police
that had protected abroad the commerce of the land and kept its shores
practically inviolate was no longer feared. It was expensive now. That
was all.
The reductions in the time to come, therefore, were but economic
questions, and when the national pocket was pinched, the army was
reduced as the readiest and easiest means of meeting the deficit. It
was no longer feared, had even become respected and respectable; but
its keeping up was a matter of taxation. All reformers seek to reduce
this burden, and what so easy as to lessen the cost of a machine, the
value of which in the past may have been great, and only possibly might
be of equal value in the future? But in the immediate present (at any
period in this century) the reformer merely looked at things as they
then were, and carefully put off till the to-morrow what it would
have been less costly to do quietly to-day. Such politicians do not
see that the ominous war-cloud means war risks, greater haste, higher
prices, and more expenditure. But it matters little to them so long as
retrenchment, whether wise or not is immaterial, comes to them. “What
has posterity done for them,” that they should trouble about a future
that only concerns their children? And yet, if these same economists
were to put off life insurance until age and waning health came, they
would consider such a course more than unbusiness-like. The nation
had by sheer force of circumstances been led to see the value of the
national insurance--the army; but it was reluctant to effect as sound
an insurance in this respect as the case needed. The story of all
voluntary armies has practically been the same.
With the cessation of hostilities came the shower of rewards, but with
a considerable reservation. Ensigns of the Guards were to rank as
lieutenants, and the 1st Foot Guards were made “Grenadiers.” Generals
were made peers, and the knighthood of the Bath expanded to decorate
others. But Tommy Atkins, who did the fighting? He got nothing, save
discharge on a full or a limited pension, ranging between sixpence and
a shilling a day, or Chelsea Hospital! His sole reward was the increase
of pay of his sergeant-major, the addition of a colour-sergeant at
two-and-fourpence a day to each company, and, some thirty years later,
for those who survived--a medal! Never were the rank and file of an
army that had done so much rewarded at so exceedingly cheap a rate.
The necessity for keeping the regular army on a war footing after 1815,
still remained so long as there was an army of occupation, 25,000
strong, to be kept in France. In 1816, therefore, the numerical
strength of the army was 175,615 men, exclusive of those employed in
India. But when that occupation ceased, a reduction of 26,000 men
followed as a matter of course, and most of the cadres of regiments
were reduced to a very low peace strength.
CHAPTER XIII
THE ARMY AFTER THE LONG PEACE--THE CRIMEA, 1854
Reference has already been made to the reduction of the army after
Waterloo. When warlike enthusiasm died out, and the cost of the
war--some £800,000,000--had been grasped, the natural reaction came.
Retrenchment “all along the line” was natural; but though the numbers
were reduced to a weak peace footing, few regiments actually ceased to
exist. The old 100th, 99th, 98th, 97th, 96th, 95th, and 94th Battalions
were disbanded. Many regiments received fresh numbers. Hence the army
in 1821 numbered 99,224 men, with 20,000 in India; but there was a
slight increase to the infantry in 1823, when the 94th, 95th, 96th,
97th, 98th, and 99th reappear, and a further increase of 7,000 in
1831 because of Irish discontent; but this was again reduced, to be
increased in 1848. In 1837 the army consisted of ninety-nine regiments
of the line, with the Rifle Brigade, but was extremely weak in the
matter of the artillery and cavalry.
The dread of war died with the banishment of the great emperor to St.
Helena, and was buried with his death. Europe was at peace for many a
year, and people, foolish then as now, could not read by the lessons
of the past that no perfect or continual peace was possible until the
millennium came. Even those who looked forward to that event did not
read prophecy correctly. There were to be “wars and rumours of wars,”
but the people sat quietly down and dreamed of a continual peace, which
was as impossible as a continual war.
Exhaustion follows great warlike efforts, and exhaustion, of a
different kind, follows prolonged peace. There is “a deal of human
nature about man,” and there is at the bottom of most of us an old
combative spirit that, however concealed by common conventional life,
is none the less still smouldering below the surface, and quite ready
to break out into a flame.
The exhaustion of war requires repose: that of peace requires
excitation, as the future proved. No war has ever been seriously
unpopular in England--_after a long peace_. Man is a pugnacious animal
at the heart of him, and woman is little better! The red coat, the
“scarlet fever,” appeals to both sexes, and the most peace-loving woman
in the world would rather see her brother or her lover die the death
for country’s sake, than see him stay at home if his soldier’s work lay
elsewhere.
Still, a great reaction, national and personal, had followed all
these years of nearly continuous war. No wonder the army was reduced,
and, to avoid further reduction, hidden away. The civilian idea that
armies could be raised anyhow, that any man was not only fit for, but
could be easily made, a soldier, was as common then as now. Yet if
these well-meaning people, people of business, had been asked if any
of their clerks could be so improvised, such a remark would have been
met by a scornful negative. Curious to remember that people who think
so are absolutely ignorant of the training in rapid decision, quick
initiative, and perfect coolness, which in the midst of battle and
sudden death the soldier, and still more his leader, has to show. But
human nature is human nature. Civilians held the purse-strings, and the
army suffered. The canker of peace rusted all things until the rude
awakening of the Crimean War, and then those who complained most of the
undoubted errors committed were the very descendants of those who had
refused in every way to keep sound and commercially intact that great
national insurance--the army.
But for India and the far East, the practice in the fighting trade
would have been little or nothing for forty years! The history of the
army from 1820 to 1854 is mainly domestic. Thus, between 1821 and 1827
the Household Cavalry had the cuirass restored; the list of battles on
the regimental colours was increased, and regimental histories ordered
to be written (by Mr. Cannon, of the War Office) by royal command;
trousers took the place of leggings, and short boots and “Wellingtons”
came into being; and when the Deccan prize-money was distributed, the
general commanding these operations received £44,201, and the private
soldier 19s. 10d.!
In 1827 the Duke of York died, and was succeeded the next year by the
Duke of Wellington.
The late Commander-in-Chief was by no means a great general, and had
lacked both tact and judgment, as was shown by his entanglement with
Mrs. Clarke, which led to a heated debate in the House of Commons.
But he was honest in his endeavour to improve the army as a fighting
machine. When Sir Arthur Wellesley was a member of Parliament, he
bore willing testimony to the work His Royal Highness had done.
“Never was there army in a better state, as far as depended on the
Commander-in-Chief, than the one he had commanded,” was his successor’s
honest opinion in 1808 regarding His Royal Highness. There is little,
if any, evidence that he was personally aware of the somewhat doubtful
transactions that had been carried on, and his rigid integrity in all
other matters had won him the respect of the army, when he finally
ceased to command it in chief.
The Duke of York was, after all, but a man of his time. He had
condescended to fight a duel with Colonel Lennox in the days of his hot
youth. He had behaved with coolness and intrepidity in Holland when the
14th Foot and the Guards had distinguished themselves at Famars and
Lincelles. He was notorious for his courtesy at his numerous levées.
He behaved with dignity, certainly, in the unfortunate campaign of
1799. He had the interest of the army at heart, as is evidenced by his
dying words to Sir Robert Peel, when he said, “I wish that the country
could compare the state of the brigade which was to land in Lisbon
in 1827 with that which landed at Ostend in 1794.” A contemporary
opinion stating that “No man of his high rank, since the days of Henry
IV. of France, had ever conciliated more personal attachments, or
retained them longer,” is sufficient eulogy of his private worth, if
his military career be not remarkable for any marked success.
[Illustration: _Private 24^{th} Reg^{t} 1840._]
The last pike carried by the infantry, the sergeant’s spontoon, from
its use as protecting the captain of the company while leading or
directing his command--disappeared in 1830, and was replaced by a
“fusil and bayonet.” The sergeant’s firearm long remained shorter than
that of the rank and file. The head-dress had been frequently changed,
and by 1840 was a heavy-topped shako with badge, and with a ball or
plume in front. The coat, or “coatee,” was swallow-tailed and buttoned
to the throat, and was ornamented with epaulets or “scales,” the cuffs
and collar showing the regimental facings. The sword was supported by
a “frog” from a cross-belt over the right shoulder, on the front of
it being a small square brass “breastplate” carrying the regimental
devices.
The small brass “duty gorget,” long worn as a badge of being on duty,
suspended by a ribbon round the neck, represented the last body armour
for the protection of the shoulders; while so the “breastplate” was, in
name at least, a survival of the cuirass.
The soldier’s bayonet was also supported by a belt over the right
shoulder, and was balanced by a cross-belt over the other shoulder,
which carried the only ammunition pouch. The man’s personal kit was
contained in a knapsack, on the top of which the rolled greatcoat was
strapped.
The drill remained practically the same from 1792 until after the
Crimean War. Editions of the Drill book published by Dundas were
issued in 1809, 1815, and 1817, though the alterations are trivial;
but in 1824, when Sir Henry Torrens revised it, greater celerity was
infused into some of the manœuvres, the “quick march” of 108 paces a
minute being now generally used, except for mere parade. The two-deep
formation became the rule, though drill for forming both three and
four deep was retained, and a temporary effort was made to introduce
the “bayonet exercise,” but this was very soon abandoned.
During Wellington’s first year of office as Commander-in-Chief,
the yeomanry were remodelled. The system of limited enlistment was
discontinued for a time, and there was much malingering in the army by
men who tried by such means to get their discharge; but in 1833 the
limit of enlistment was fixed at twenty-five years, and in 1847 at ten,
with the colours, and the power of completing twenty-one years for
pension. The soldier’s “small book,” containing his personal record,
etc., was introduced, and as the typical pattern was made out in the
name of a supposititious “Thomas Atkins,” the now familiar name of
“Tommy Atkins” as the nickname of the private soldier came to be.
Between 1829 and 1839 there is little of note except the increase in
the literature relating to the army. It was then that the _United
Service Magazine_, the _Army and Navy Gazette_, and the _Journal of
the United Service Institution_, first arose; and, save for Eastern
wars, the only other service seen by the line was in the Canadian and
West Indian troubles in 1832 and 1834, which were quelled by the 15th
and 22nd,[49] and a second Canadian rebellion, in 1839, which was
suppressed by the 24th, 32nd, and 66th.
During the ten years between 1839 and 1849 duelling, which had
continued very prevalent, was abolished. The last fought in England
was between Mr. Hawkey of the Royal Marines and Mr. Seton of the 11th
Hussars, on the beach at Gosport, in which the latter was mortally
wounded. This was in 1845.
Flogging, which it had often been proposed to abolish, was reduced to
fifty lashes in 1846, when good conduct medals and badges, as well as
gratuities for non-commissioned officers and military savings banks,
were introduced. Barrack accommodation was improved, regimental schools
introduced, and either proper married quarters, or lodging money to
men who married by permission “on the strength of the Regiment,” took
the place of the disgraceful system that had before obtained of the
married women sleeping in the same room as the men, the bed only being
curtained off.
The school of musketry at Hythe was also inaugurated; and in 1851 the
principle of granting medals was extended to cover the Indian victories
from 1803 upwards. Medals for the long war and the recent Indian
successes were issued, but of all the host who upheld the national
honour when Napoleon ruled, only 19,000 recipients were found for the
Peninsular decoration, and but 500 for the victory of Maida!
The next French “war scare” arose in 1847, because of a pamphlet,
written by the Prince de Joinville, pointing out the military
defencelessness of Great Britain, and the poor condition of our
defensive forces. This had never been more clearly pointed out than
when the Duke of Wellington wrote to Sir John Burgoyne: “It is
perfectly true that, as we stand at present, with our naval arsenals
and dockyards not half garrisoned, five thousand men of all arms
could not be put under arms, if required, for any service whatever,
without leaving standing, without relief, all employed on any duty,
not excepting even the guards over the palaces and the person of the
sovereign.” This was mainly the condition of the army when the Crimean
War broke out. The Royal Artillery had been slightly increased in 1847,
but in 1853, none the less, it was stated that there were not at home
fifty guns fit for service.
But things were on the mend. Examinations for admission to the army
were introduced, to the dismay of those who had hitherto gained
commissions therein solely by family or other influence. The arms,
too, were improving. Minié had invented a bullet, expanded by an iron
base-cup, which facilitated the rapid loading of the piece, which had
hitherto, with the Brunswick rifle, with its “belted ball,” and a range
of about 400 yards, been impossible. This began to be used in 1851.
The Great Exhibition of 1851 had introduced to the world the “Colt’s
Revolver.” As far back as 1842 the percussion lock, invented in 1807,
had taken the place of the Brown Bess, so called from the brown
tint given to the barrel, as distinct from the bright iron barrels
of foreign muskets; but it is stated that the duke was by no means
favourable to the supersession of the flint-lock by the chemically
charged cap. Judging from this, the actual armament of the whole army
with the English model of the Minié (the “Enfield” rifle of 1855),
which carried a bullet weighing sixteen to the pound, and of which a
man could only carry sixty rounds of ammunition, would have been to him
“Anathema Maranatha.” Similarly, the breech-loader had been introduced
to Napoleon in 1809, but the weapon, being probably imperfect, met
with little favour; none the less, the Prussians had already adopted,
by 1841, the breech-loading needle gun. But General Anson, then “Clerk
of the Ordnance,” had no fancy for such new-fangled ideas, a feeling
shared fully, by all accounts, with the Commander-in-Chief, who was
always irascible with inventors and their inventions. He did not
believe we “ought hastily to adopt any of these improvements”; and, as
to rifles, “it was ridiculous to suppose that two armies could fight
at a distance of 500 or 600 yards!” Even the Secretary of State for
War, afterwards Lord Panmure, stated that the weapons, that is, the
percussion musket, “were better than all the inventions that could be
discovered.” Certes, he lived long enough to be “sorry he spoke,” for
of the musket he so be-praised, it was officially declared, in 1846,
that “fire should never be opened beyond 150 yards, and certainly not
exceeding 200 yards,” for “at this distance half the number of shots
missed the target, measuring 11 feet 6 inches, and at 150 yards a very
large proportion also missed!”
It is but forty years since these ideas were held, and rightly; but it
is curious, none the less, to note the extraordinary advance the art
of killing men has made since then. In 1822 it is deliberately stated
in a French report that “thus infantry is only formidable at about
100 yards.” In 1852, and thereabout, there were marked improvements
in firearms, and this, notwithstanding the continuance of the reign
of peace the “Great Exhibition” was supposed to inaugurate, and the
ominous distant growl of the war-thunder that was arising in the East.
With nations of different national characteristics, and in different
stages of national development, the quietude of a peaceful power is
looked on as but a synonym for weakness. National decadence and a
peace-at-any-price policy run, as all history proves, on very much
the same rails; the latter spirit is called up to cover or excuse the
former. So it was that the long peace was broken. If Russia had really
thought she would have to fight four powers and a “benevolent neutral,”
she might have held her hand, but the “Manchester School” talked much,
and foreign powers are disposed always to take the outcry of the
hysterical few in England for the solid opinion of the silent many.
Some people, less influenced by the hysteria of those who, like the
Pharisee in the parable, air their opinions in the streets, or, like
Rudyard Kipling’s monkey-folk,--the “Bander-log,”--imagine, because
_they proclaim_, their proclamations must be true, were uneasy. The
best of the House of Commons were uneasy, and voted the Militia Bill,
which aimed at creating 80,000 permanent militiamen as a second line
of defence; a force that proved the justice of the view taken, by the
enormous help they gave the army when the new war began. It is saying
very little to assert that, without the militia from 1854 to 1856, we
could not have recruited the army at Sebastopol, any more than we could
have held our Mediterranean garrisons.
Then there was a certain Colonel Kinloch who was uneasy. And he found
relief for uneasiness by starting the second Volunteer Movement. The
first was when Napoleon threatened to invade us. He wrote a very
valuable, because impressive, pamphlet, which attracted attention, and
actually led to the formation of volunteer corps, which, of course,
had little support from the Government; all the more because they were
anxious about their own pet child, the new “Militia Bill.”
Then, lastly, there were the Secretary of State and the
Commander-in-Chief also anxious. And these relieved their anxiety by
doing the best possible thing they could, in establishing the camp
at Chobham, where field manœuvres were first seriously tried. Again
it is curious to see how history repeats itself. When the impressive
lesson of 1870 to 1871 aroused the national anxiety, the first camp
of instruction with real field manœuvres was started in 1871 by Lord
Cardwell, over much of the same area.
In 1852 Wellington died, and, after a while, Lord Hardinge took his
place. That the “Iron Duke” had been uniformly and, on the whole,
extraordinarily successful, is evident. That he never saw the
greatest leaders until he met Napoleon at Waterloo, is equally so.
It was for long, and is, to some extent, still rank heresy to even
criticise his actions. But whatever confidence he may have gained by
his imperturbable coolness, he gained no man’s regard. The rank and
file trusted and believed in him to some extent. But there was not
one soldier who would have died with his name on his lips as many did
for his far greater antagonist--Napoleon. Men were obedient, save in
such retreats as Burgos, when Wellington’s influence was powerless
to check the disgraceful conduct of his army, but never devoted. He
rarely praised the men who fought, and died, and won battles, some
of which are distinguished by the absence of everything but that
bull-dog courage which the privates showed. He had a belief in himself
that seems at times arrogant, but he was patient, persevering, and
sagacious. No careful student of the art of war, _no foreign military
critic certainly_, has ever classed him among the greatest generals, or
thought his campaigns worth studying seriously.
Gneisenau at Waterloo utterly mistrusted him, as has been shown, and
the feeling must have been created by Wellington himself. If half
the myths about him were true, they would be worth publishing as the
unwritten history of a great man with many faults. Of him Gleig, who
shared in the general admiration of him, is quite plain-spoken as to
his personal coldness.
“Though retaining to the last a warm regard for his old companions in
arms, he entered very little with them, after he became a politician,
into the amenities of social life. We have reason to believe that
neither Lord Hill, nor Lord Raglan, nor Sir George Murray ever visited
the duke at Strathfieldsaye, nor could they, or others of similar
standing, such as Lord Anglesey, Sir Edward Paget, and Sir James Kempt,
be reckoned among the _habitués_ of his hospitable gatherings in Apsley
House. The circle in which he chiefly moved was that of fashionable
ladies and gentlemen.”
The gallantry of Norman Ramsay’s battery at Fuentes d’Onoro met with
no praise from this imperturbable chief. Mercer’s unquestionably cool
and brave work with his battery at Waterloo was barely noticed by
his general. Mercer himself, in no very complimentary spirit, says
of his share in the great fight: “One day, on the Marine Parade at
Woolwich, a battalion coming up in close column at the double march,
Lieutenant-Colonel Brown, who stood near me, remarked, ‘That puts
me in mind of your troops coming up at Waterloo, when you saved the
Brunswickers.’ Until this moment I never knew that our having done so
had been remarked by anybody. But he assured me it was known to the
whole army; and yet the duke not only withheld that praise which was
our due, but refused me the brevet rank of major; and, more than that,
actually deprived me of that troop given me by Lord Mulgrave, the
then Master-General, for that action, as recommended by my commanding
officer, Sir G. Adams Wood.
“That the duke was not ignorant of their danger, I have from Captain
Baynes, our brigade-major, who told me that after Sir Augustus Frazer
had been sent for us, his Grace exhibited considerable anxiety for our
coming up; and that, when he saw us crossing the fields at a gallop,
and in so compact a body, he actually cried out, ‘Ah! that’s the way I
like to see horse-artillery move.’ Another proof.”
Few men had had greater good fortune than he. “With no opportunity
for the display of any kind of talent, he, after entering the army
as an ensign at seventeen, became captain, M.P., and A.D.C. to the
Lord-Lieutenant at twenty-one, lieutenant-colonel at twenty-four,
and colonel at twenty-six. Had Wellesley been the son of an obscure
gentleman he might, and probably would, with all his genius, have
served in India as a subaltern, in the Peninsula in various regimental
grades, and might have died, perhaps, a barrack-master on half-pay--a
lieutenant-colonel with half a dozen clasps.”[50] So writes one
historian of his life, and his view is shared by Brialmont, who thinks
that, when his brother became Governor-General of India, “without his
fraternal hand, he would probably have risen neither so quickly nor so
high.”
And, finally: “The duke’s unpopularity, increasing with every stage
of his opposition to the Bill, reached such a height that, on the
anniversary of the battle of Waterloo, the once idolised victor in that
fight was hunted along the city by a mob, and escaped their violence
only by a fortunate accident.”
None can deny that his rewards were ample. He had landed in the
Peninsula but the “Sepoy general,” who had, through family influence,
succeeded the man who won Seringapatam. He had received after Salamanca
£100,000, and, later on, was granted another £400,000. Talavera had
made him a viscount, and, but a few years later, he ranked as an
English duke, had received the Garter, and had been granted every
possible foreign rank and decoration.
In 1854 the long peace was broken. Tactics had meanwhile scarcely
changed since the Peninsula. The English still fought in line, the
French more or less in column, and in both armies the deployment and
the advance were covered by light infantry skirmishers. The artillery
was that of 1815 to all intents and purposes. Only the telegraph
introduced a new and not always, from a military point of view,
valuable adjunct to warlike operations, as it led to the interference,
by ignorant people at home, with the conduct of operations of which
they could form no accurate judgment; and though this “opening up”
communication with the western countries greatly accelerated the
supply of whatever was wanted, “still, in the Crimean War, it enabled
Napoleon III. to worry the army incessantly with military ideas, which
Pelissier calmly disregarded.” Lastly, the use of steamships gave
greater rapidity and certainty in the transport of troops.
Just before the war began the coatee was gradually superseded by the
tunic, which offered greater protection to the man than the previous
dress. Gradually epaulettes as well as scales ceased.
The British army entered on its first European campaign, for nearly
forty years, side by side with its ancient enemies, for the first
time since the Crusades. In alliance with Turkey, to which after was
added Piedmont, it was proposed, at first, to carry on an active
campaign in the Balkan Peninsula against the Russian invasion of the
“principalities.” Russia’s appearance there, nominally to obtain
protection for the Christian subjects of the Porte, was based on the
hope of inheriting, or gaining by force of arms, the territory of the
“sick man,” or at least, by his destruction, to lead to a partition of
his territories, as had been effected before in Poland. Russia thought
little of the then newly made Emperor of France, Napoleon III., and
he, on his part, was by no means disinclined to adopt the Napoleonic
method, and to obtain security for his throne by war abroad, and
peace, with glory added, at home. England, owing to the outcry of the
“Manchester School,” had been regarded as a _quantité négligeable_
then, as she has sometimes been since. The Czar hoped, at least,
that the canker of the long peace had so rusted her energies that
she might protest, but would do nothing more. But there were several
surprises for the autocrat, as his descendant found also in 1877 to
1878, before the wished-for end could be gained. Turks then, as later,
proved themselves somewhat stubborn fighters. To a man who believes in
Kismet, death has no real terrors, and there is only his own personal
_ego_, only his own personal nerve strength, to deal with. The quantity
is somewhat difficult of determining, and its determination marks
the difference between the brave man and the coward. Few know, or
can guess, the value of this personal equation until he is tried.
Sometimes, when that trial is made, it is too late to be of future
value.
But the Turk tenaciously held his own in the valley of the Danube,
and England and France declared war. The real defeat of Russia was
not to be on pseudo-Turkish soil. Austria intervened by mobilising
a portion of her army, which therefore threatened the Russian line
of retreat, and in other ways paralysed her freedom of action. This
“benevolent neutrality,” like all such actions which are half-hearted,
made bad blood. No one rejoiced, privately, more than Russia did when
disaster befell Austria in 1866. Said, three weeks after Königgratz,
the governor of East Siberia, who had received the news partly by
telegraph, partly by steamer down the Amoor, when asked why he had
rejoiced that “the Austrians had been gloriously defeated at Sadowa,”
“We have never forgotten or forgiven Austria’s benevolent neutrality of
1854.”
So Russia abandoned her first idea of carrying the war into the enemy’s
country, and had to prepare to defend her own.
The Allied army had been landed, till all danger in that part was over,
at Varna, and had suffered terribly from sickness. Now the seat of war
was transferred to the Crimea, with the object of destroying both the
Russian base of operations in the Black Sea, and her prestige as well,
by the capture of Sebastopol. So the troops embarked; but while both
France and Turkey had to use their ships of war as transports, and
could not therefore convey cavalry, England, with a magnificent fleet
of transports for her troops and a fine squadron of warships to cover
them, was able to embark all three arms for the new seat of war. It was
something even in 1854 to be still a leading naval power. “No power but
England has, indeed, ever successfully despatched a complete army by
sea, at anyrate since the Crusades, save England.”[51]
Thus were landed on the shores of the Crimea, which there run north and
south, on the small, well-protected beach of Balchuk Bay, a few miles
north of the Bulganak River, and about twenty-five miles north of the
principal objective, Sebastopol, a force of 28,000 French--they had
lost 10,000 men by cholera at Varna--and 7000 Turkish infantry, with 68
guns and no cavalry, and the British army of 26,000 infantry, 60 guns,
and a light cavalry brigade of about 1000 sabres. The former forces
were commanded by Marshal St. Arnaud, the latter by Lord Raglan, and
were formed into five divisions, about 5000 men, each of two brigades,
each brigade of two regiments, and with each two field batteries.
The siege train and the heavy cavalry brigade were awaiting embarkation
at Varna. Even then it had been contemplated that a siege was possible,
but there was an obstacle in the immediate way; for, behind the Alma
river, a few miles south of the Bulganak, the Russian army under
Mentschikoff had taken up a position for defence. The march began with
the English force inland on the left because it had cavalry to cover
its flank front and rear, with the Rifle Brigade forming the advanced
and rear guard; then came the French; and the Turkish contingent formed
the right of the advance, though in the column of march they followed
in rear of the French columns. The first day’s march was six miles.
The Russians had placed their army across the road from Eupatoria to
Sebastopol; but there were few troops west of the road, as the cliffs
bordering the brook were there steep, with only two difficult avenues
of approach, which might have been blocked or defended by field works,
while the plateau was exposed to the fire of the guns from the fleet.
Their right, however, rested on the Kourganè Hill, and on the slopes
below were some earthworks; while the presence of their cavalry on
the extreme right, necessitated (according to the principle of the
Peninsular days) that the left flank battalions of the English lines
should be in column ready to form square.
The battle of the Alma is a fair type of the use of line _versus_
column; and, be it remembered, that as it had survived the Peninsular
days so, very slightly modified, it remained in the British army until
1870.
The French and Turks began the battle, but what happened on the right
can be dismissed with little comment. The difficulties were rather
those of ground than those created by the enemy, for there was little
resistance here. “Opposed to the English were at least two-thirds
of the Russians.” The Second and Light Divisions, the 30th, 55th,
95th, and 41st, 47th, 49th in the one, and the 7th, 23rd, 33rd, with
the 19th, 77th, 88th in the other, led in line of columns; the Third
and First, the former composed of the 1st, 38th, 50th, and the 4th,
28th, 44th, the latter of the Guards and the 42nd, 79th, 93rd, were
in second line; the Fourth Division, the 20th, 21st, 68th, 69th, and
the 1st Rifle Brigade echeloned on the left was in third line, and the
cavalry, 4th, 13th, 18th, 11th Hussars, and the 17th Lancers, formed
on the flank and rear. Each line deployed occupied about 2400 yards,
the first at about one mile from the enemy’s position; and not only
did this occupy much time, “several hours,”[52] but the deployment was
irregular and the advance slow. All the disadvantages of the linear
formation for attack were fully shown. Crossing the Alma, where at some
points the water was up to the men’s necks,[53] the dislocation of the
attenuated front became more manifest, while the loss was heavy. Still
the shattered and broken lines pressed on, but the Light Division had
to fall back, having lost 47 officers and 850 men, and the brigade of
Guards, with the Highlanders on their left, pressed into the fight.
Though they too were checked for a time, their advance and the front of
fire they developed were too much for the Russian columns. Assailed in
front by determined infantry, the Vladimir Regiment alone about this
time lost 49 officers and 1500 men, so Anitschkoff says, and, fired on
by two guns which Lord Raglan had fortunately got across the stream in
the very forefront of the battle, the great columns dissolved and fled.
[Illustration: THE CRIMEA.
1854-5.]
But, throughout, the evil, from a military standpoint, of the long
peace was apparent. There was want of method in the attack and want
of supreme direction. The artillery was badly handled, and was used
without combined effort. It would have been wiser if the whole force
had made a flank attack on the Russian right, and both threatened
directly his line of retreat and penned him in against the coast.[54]
And, finally, the cavalry were not used at all. “I will keep my
cavalry in a bandbox,” said Raglan, which, however cautious, was not
“_l’audace_”; and so, partly due to French advice no doubt, there
was no pursuit and no rout. Once again, as often in the Peninsula,
the battle was won by the fighting power of the men rather than the
genius of the commander. Throughout, the cavalry, instead of spreading
widely for information, were kept close to the columns they should
have covered. Finally, while the Russians admit a loss of 6000 men,
the British suffered one of 2000, and that of the French was estimated
by Raglan at the most as three officers and 560 men. Two days were
then wasted, and on the 23rd the army made the magnificent march of
seven miles, and on the next day six more! With greater celerity
Sebastopol might, in all human probability, have been carried by
assault. So thought Todleben himself, the commanding engineer in the
Russian fortress, and he was no mean judge. The defeated army had
only garrisoned the fortress, and then proposed falling back into the
interior. There was, too, a dread of the fortifications themselves
on the part of the leaders of the British army, which is somewhat to
be wondered at, with the traditions of Badajoz and Ciudad Rodrigo
still not forgotten, by some at least. The works on the north side
of the harbour were deemed too formidable to attack; it was decided,
therefore, to make a flank march round the place and try the southern
side. It must be remembered that the general line of march was north to
south, that of the harbour east and west; and that beyond the upland
which lay behind the town, and which was to be the site of the coming
siege, were two harbours, Balaklava and Kamiesch, which might be used
as new bases of operation against the great fortress of the Crimea.
So the most remarkable flank march in military history was begun.
Owing to the confusion that characterised much of the staff work of
the campaign, the general-in-chief found himself leading the entire
column, the advanced guard having lost its way (!), with behind him
thirty guns; and this through a thick wood. The British general was in
as complete ignorance that the Russian army was moving across his front
five miles away, as was Mentschikoff in equally blissful ignorance that
his enemy was crossing the rear of his column of march. Thus, not even
the true advanced guard, but some of the main column, cut off some of
the Russian baggage train.
However, Balaklava was reached without further misadventure, the result
of blind accident rather than knowledge of how war should be conducted;
and the two armies settled down before Sebastopol on the Chersonese
Upland, the north side of which was formed by the south front of the
fortress, another by the sea, and the third by a cliff edge leading
down into the wide valley below the Tchernaya and Balaklava. Reversing
the order of attack at the Alma, the Allies now changed flanks, the
British from Balaklava taking the right as far as they could afford to
go (this flank had later on to be extended by the French), while the
French from Kamiesch Bay occupied the left of the besieging line. Thus
it was not even a complete investment of the southern side. The right
of the English section was at the beginning quite _en l’air_. There
was no covering army to watch and meet the Russian army known to be
outside and free to act. Balaklava was fortified, camps were formed
on the upland; the Woronzoff road, by which Todleben, in command at
Sebastopol, communicated with the interior of Russia, was defended
by a few weak redoubts held by Turks; and the camps of the cavalry
brigades were formed in the lowland between the road and the upland
cliffs. Nothing could prevent the continual reinforcement of the
garrison, nothing could prevent an attack by Mentschikoff’s army from
Baghtcheserai; but the investing force must in that case turn its back
upon the defenders of the fortress to meet the attack of the relieving
army.
Sebastopol was neither to be invested nor reduced. The siege was merely
a means to an end, that of draining the resources of the adversary, and
the cost of doing so, both in lives and in suffering, was great in the
extreme.
The siege itself is too complex to deal with in detail. The place was
bombarded on the 17th October, and the fleet co-operated. The first
sortie was made on the 26th; by January 1854 there were 14,000 men
in hospital, and there were scarcely any horses; there was a second
sortie in March; on the 9th April there was a second bombardment, but
nothing came of it; on the 6th June there was a third bombardment and
an assault, and the Mamelon was taken; the fourth bombardment on the
17th June was also followed by an assault, the cemetery at the foot of
the Green Hill being taken; a fifth and sixth bombardment was carried
out on the 17th August, and from the 5th to the 7th September; and
then the final assault was made, when the Malakoff Tower was taken,
and the attack on the Redan failed. This terminated the siege. The
Russians, after a prolonged defence, of which they are justly proud,
sank their ships, blew up the forts on the south side, and retreated
to the north side of the harbour, leaving the bloodstained ruined
city and fortifications to the victors. They had nothing to reproach
themselves with. But, meanwhile, an expedition to Kinburn had cut
off one of the arsenals on which the Russian commander in Sebastopol
depended, and the exhaustion of Russia (she had lost 240,000 men up
to the late Czar’s death, and 80,000 since) was evident. Otherwise
the Russian position was still admirable, and the war might have been
prolonged indefinitely. But the fall of the southern forts led the way
to armistice and then peace.
But while the siege was thus dragging on its weary length, the Russian
field army and the garrison had not been passive. There had been three
efforts to raise the siege, namely, those which led to the battle of
Balaklava on the 25th October 1853, when the relieving force numbered
22,000 infantry, 3400 cavalry, and 78 guns, and advanced from the
Tchernaya by Kamara, across the Woronzoff road; the battle of Inkerman,
on the 5th November 1854, when the garrison made a sortie with 19,000
infantry and 38 guns, aided by Pauloff with 16,000 infantry and 96 guns
from the Inkerman heights, while Gortschakoff threatened the upland
from the Balaklava valley; and the battle of the Tchernaya, on the
16th August 1864, in which our new Sardinian allies shared, and which
was fought by them and the French only, with a Turkish reserve, but
which does not enter into the story of the British army, except as an
incident in the campaign.
But the two former battles are remarkable and noteworthy instances of
the courage and fearlessness--one may almost add skill-lessness--of
our army. Never did men fight better. Never were greater mistakes made
in all the annals of war. The Crimean campaign teaches one thing, if
it teaches no other. Battles are won, sometimes if apparently lost, by
sheer hard fighting. When Marengo was lost, it was very soon won. So
in these cases. The army ought to have been beaten according to all
the canons of war, but it wasn’t! Perhaps a time will come when the
man who does the real work--that “very strong man,” Thomas Atkins--has
his due meed. Crosses and decorations are given often enough to those
who have never seen a shot fired, but poor “Thomas” goes away bravely
in peace, as he fought bravely in war, with his medal, and even that
for “distinguished service in the field,” to sweep a London crossing.
Balaklava is a clear instance of mere brilliant animal courage, a
bravery that the Russians recognise as fully as we do, and would reward
better than we do, who have allowed many a gallant man who rode in the
“death ride” to sink to workhouse pay. They speak with feeling and
admiration of both the action of the cavalry and the Highlanders, and
wonder why we have a clasp for Balaklava! A Russian officer, many years
ago, asking what clasp was on the Crimean medal an officer was wearing
(he was dining in a naval mess), and being told it was for Balaklava,
started, and said, “Do you English give clasps for your _defeats_ as
well as your victories, for _we_ claim Balaklava as a success?” “How
so?” was the Englishman’s natural response. “You did not hold the
field, nor did you raise the siege.” “True,” replied the Russian, “but
we won the Woronzoff road, and, practically, you never contested with
us the right to it afterwards, and contented yourself with acting
defensively behind the earthworks of Balaklava and the Upland.”
There are two sides to every question, therefore; but one thing is
evident, that the British position based on Balaklava was in front
line as regards the interior of the Crimea, while that of the French
at Kamiesch was not, and could not be, molested. A glance at the map
shows this, and shows also how a little further forethought on the part
of the British would have shown the staff the advisability of keeping
on the left, as we had done, and agreed to do, at Alma, and basing
ourselves on Kamiesch, rather than taking Balaklava as our base, in
opposition for a time to the French, and wilfully accepting, or rather
asking for, the most exposed position. It is always easy to be wise
after the event, but a wise staff gauges the possibility of the event
before it occurs. No one can ascribe to the staff in the Crimea the
virtue of prescience in the faintest degree.
The battle of Balaklava, therefore, is peculiar. The only regiments
in the _Army List_ who carry that name “on their colours” are the 4th
and 5th Dragoon Guards, the 1st, 2nd, and 6th Dragoons, the 4th, 8th,
11th, and 13th Hussars, and the 17th Lancers among the cavalry, and the
Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, the second battalion of which was
the 93rd, who formed “the thin red line” to meet the Russian cavalry,
which was looked upon, and rightly in the days of muzzle-loaders, as
peculiarly gallant. But even these brave men might look back on the
equal gallantry of the Fusiliers who at El Bodon did much the same
thing.
But a battle must be “peculiar” when only one regiment of the line can
claim a clasp for Balaklava. It only shows how purely defensive the
action was. Against the Russian host of all arms, only the cavalry
and one regiment of the line were exposed to fire. The artillery, of
course, were engaged, but to enumerate all the actions they have been
in would be to explain the meaning of their motto “_Ubique_.” The
Russians from the Traktir Bridge advanced then straight on the poor
forts situated on the Woronzoff Road, held by the Turks, and heading
towards Kamiesch and Balaklava. Expanding into skirmishing order,
says an eyewitness, they easily carried them, and the Turks fled into
Balaklava village, to be blasphemed by some old soldier’s wife who
hated running men. Her language, so it is said, was emphasised with
a broomstick. The retreating Turks were pursued by cavalry; but, met
by the guns of the Marine Artillery outside the castle and the “thin
red line” of the 93rd, the Russians fell back. The base of operations,
at least, was safe; but it could never have been carried by cavalry
alone. British cavalry alone had prevented the advance of the Russian
army elsewhere. The actual loss inflicted by this arm could not have
been much, and they probably suffered more than they inflicted; but the
moral force and value of cavalry was never more clearly shown.
There were two cavalry charges that made the battle noteworthy. There
is nothing else, except the pluck of the Highlanders, that needs
comment.
On the sound of the firing, the First and Fourth Divisions moved down
towards Balaklava, and moving parallel with them were the Light and
Heavy Brigades, separated by a wide interval, the latter leading on the
south side of the road towards Balaklava, the other on the north side
nearer the Tchernaya. The scene of the two charges is therefore divided
by the road, which runs along a low ridge. Just as the Heavy Brigade,
900 sabres strong, marching in a very irregular column without scouts,
was nearing Kadikoi, a huge column of Russian cavalry, estimated at
3000 men, suddenly appeared on their left crossing the ridge. Scarlett
did not hesitate: forming up the first troops (some 300) as they
arrived, he dashed with the Greys and Inniskillings full at the centre
of the mass, which, irresolute, halted to receive the shock; and the
4th and 5th coming up successively and taking the unwieldy column in
flank, the Russians gave way in complete disorder, and fled headlong
back to the head of the valley. The charge had cost the Heavy Brigade
comparatively few men.
Meanwhile, there had been an apparent intention on the part of the
Russians to remove the guns captured in the Turkish redoubts. To
prevent this, Lord Raglan sent his aide-de-camp, Captain Nolan,
with directions to Lord Lucan to advance. Through misconception of
his instructions, Captain Nolan, instead of indicating the intended
objective, pointed to the heavy battery of guns a mile away, supported
by masses of cavalry and infantry and other batteries on either flank.
Lord Cardigan was to charge the whole of the Russian army. But there
was as little hesitation with him as with Scarlett. Into the semicircle
of fire the Light Brigade dashed on their “death ride.” They returned
broken and in groups, having left 247 men killed and wounded, and
with a mounted strength of but 195 men. The Heavy Brigade had moved
in support, but was not employed; on the other side the Chasseurs
d’Afrique gave timely aid by driving off the guns on the left of the
advance. Nolan, the author of a misfortune the remembrance of which
is still so glorious, was struck by a piece of shell in the breast,
and though already lifeless, was carried through the ranks of the 13th
before he fell from the saddle. Never was there recorded a more daring
ride against dreadful odds, and all so practically useless. Well might
the French officer looking down from the plateau on the battle panorama
below, exclaim, “_C’est magnifique, mais ce n’est pas la guerre_.”
The camps of the different divisions had meanwhile been pitched far
back on the Upland, not far from the steep escarpment that overlooked
the plain and the Tchernaya valley, on the opposite, or right, bank of
which river rose the Inkerman heights. The more northerly of the camps,
and therefore that nearest the river, was that of the Second Division,
on whose left front lay “Shell Hill,” bounded on one side by the Quarry
Ravine and on the other by Careenage Ravine, which the Russians had
attempted to seize in the sortie on the 26th October. To its right
front is “fore ridge,” the extreme northern spur of which overlooks
the Quarry Ravine and the Tchernaya. Here, to prevent the Russians
from occupying “Shell Hill,” a sandbag battery had been built, armed,
and then abandoned. A line through this point almost due west passes
through the Lancaster gun battery; and this line represents the extreme
limit of the British occupation. North of it, between the line and that
formed by the upper end of the harbour of Sebastopol and the river
Tchernaya, is the field of Inkerman. It was on the extreme right flank
of the British defensive line.
There were for immediate purposes of defence 3000 men of the Second
Division, together with the Guards 1300 strong, and the Light Division,
1400 strong, about a mile to the south. A mile farther off was
Bosquet’s French Division. This was the force that had the task before
it of defending the gap between the Careenage Ravine and the Tchernaya
against the 35,000 men which Mentschikoff meant to develop. It turned
out to be as difficult for him to develop his strength in the narrow
space, as for his adversary to defend it.
At 7 a.m. on the 5th November heavy Russian batteries opened fire from
“Shell Hill.” The piquets fell back fighting, and were reinforced by
the Second Division. It is the most curious battle to record that has
ever been fought. In other great struggles, army corps, great units of
sorts, are used to express the action during the phases of the fight.
But Inkerman! One has to tell of what mere handfuls of men did. How the
first reinforcement was 650 men; how the 49th defeated a strong column,
and pursued it even to Shell Hill; how 260 of the 77th fired into,
and charged and dispersed, two Russian battalions; how 200 men of the
30th charged with the bayonet two out of four battalions, driving the
whole off; how the 41st, 525 gallant souls, met five other battalions
and drove them into the valley of the Tchernaya; how in this, the
first stage of this “soldiers’ battle,” 15,000 men had been shattered
by less than 4000 all told! Nor is the next stage, which began at
7.30, less extraordinary. Against the remnants of that weary force
some 19,000 fresh troops were to be brought into action, and 10,000
of them attacked the right at the Quarry Ravine. There were actually
2100 of Cathcart’s Division arriving! Round the Sandbag Battery the
fight seemed now to centre. First, some 4000 Russians attacked the 700
British there, who held them in check until reinforced by the Guards.
The fighting was individual, almost, and desperate. At one moment
there must have been some 6000 Russians against a few hundreds of the
Coldstreams, who were holding the battery, and here occurred, perhaps,
the “bloodiest struggle ever witnessed since war cursed the earth. Back
to back on that bloody ground, sodden into a hideous quagmire, the
gallant Coldstreams fought against an infuriated multitude, till their
ammunition was expended; and then, clubbing their muskets, by dint of
blows from stock and stone, they drove the Russians back far enough to
obtain room to form in line, and with levelled bayonets charged the
retreating masses, and again joined their comrades.”
Cathcart, arriving with his command, essayed a counter attack on the
right, but he fell, and his force suffered severely. The opposing
forces were curiously intermingled in that misty confusion, and a
vigorous effort again made by the Russians from the Quarry Ravine
seemed, at one moment, likely to succeed, for guns were captured. But
the end was near. An English eighteen-pounder battery and some French
guns had beaten down the fire of the Russian artillery on Shell Hill,
and at eleven o’clock the “Russians, when hopeless of success, seemed
to melt from the lost field,” and the British were far too exhausted to
pursue.
Gortschakoff’s menaced attack was not pushed home; and hence it was
that Bosquet came to the assistance of the hard-pressed British and
did useful work. The English loss was 597 killed and 1760 wounded (or
rather more than one-third their total strength), the French 130, and
the Russians 12,256. The regiments engaged on the British side were
the 4th, 8th, 11th, 15th, 17th Light Cavalry, and the 1st, 4th, 7th,
19th, 20th, 21st, 23rd, 28th, 30th, 33rd, 38th, 41st, 44th, 47th, 49th,
55th, 57th, 63rd, 68th, 77th, 88th, 95th, Rifle Brigade, and Guards.
It was the last serious effort to defeat the besieging army, and the
siege went on with all horrors of a dreadful winter. “The days and
nights in the trenches were simply horrible. The troops shivered there
for twenty-four hours at a time, often amid mud that rose nearly to the
knee, and as the winter drew on, became frozen, especially towards the
early and darker hours of the morning.” Matters improved a little when
the railway from Balaklava was completed, and when the war terminated,
the army was well fed, housed, and clothed. It was 51,000 strong, that
is, stronger than it had ever been; with Turkish and German legions,
20,000 and 10,000 each respectively, raised by British money. But
battle, and, still more, disease and mismanagement, had cost the
country 22,000 men. The general motto “Sebastopol” is borne on the
colours or appointments of the 1st, 4th, 5th, and 6th Dragoon Guards,
and the 1st, 2nd, 4th, 6th, 8th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, and 17th
Cavalry Regiments, and the 1st, 3rd, 4th, 7th, 9th, 13th, 14th, 17th,
18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 23rd, 28th, 30th, 33rd, 34th, 38th, 41st, 42nd,
44th, 47th, 48th, 49th, 55th, 56th, 57th, 62nd, 63rd, 68th, 71st, 72nd,
77th, 79th, 82nd, 88th, 89th, 90th, 93rd, 95th, and 97th Regiments of
the line, the Rifle Brigade, and Guards.
[Illustration: _Officer 20^{th} Reg^{t} (Light Co.) 1853._]
But though the State ceased to reduce the number of battalions,
everything was put on a peace footing as soon as possible. “Upon the
return of the army, the reduction of its establishments was effected
in the usual reckless fashion. We soon reverted to our customary
condition of military inefficiency.” Yet we had learned, or should have
learned, much by the war. Waste and mismanagement had characterised
the administration and the staff, the paucity of regular reserves
had so made itself felt, that even in the assault of the Redan there
were men who had barely fired a rifle before. Recruits, scarcely even
drilled, and only partly uniformed, were fighting in the forefront of
battle but a few weeks after they had enlisted. Our Mediterranean
garrisons were largely composed of militia, which force also formed,
at that time, our only reliable recruiting-ground, and in our home
forts were foreign legionary soldiers. The only things that were left,
after a while, of the experience we had gained in the Crimea were the
establishment of the School of Gunnery at Shoeburyness, the foundation
of the great hospital at Netley, the framework of the present
commissariat and transport corps, and the building of the Staff College.
Still, though reduction and economy (or what was thought economy)
naturally followed the conclusion of peace, a new era, as far as the
army went, dawned. The camp at Chobham, before the war, had emphasised
the value of such field training, and hence, largely through the
advice and energy of the late Prince Consort, a considerable area of
waste land was purchased at Aldershot, and the “Camp” was permanently
formed, Crimean huts being utilised for barracks. Bounties had
always been largely used, in the just finished war, as before it, to
induce recruits to join; but out of it the numerous small personal
requirements of the soldier were purchased. Now this was changed, and a
“free kit” of “necessaries” were given to the recruit, as well as his
uniform and equipment. Still he paid for his rations out of his daily
pay. The supply of clothing, too, which had hitherto been a regimental
matter, in the hands of the commanding officer, subject to inspection
by a board of general officers, now passed into the hands of the War
Office, a course which not only insured uniformity, but closed a door
open to possible wrong-doing.
The Victoria Cross for Valour was inaugurated, and many of the
Crimean heroes received the coveted decoration, which meant to the
men not only an honour, but carried with it a pension of £10 a year.
Since its introduction, some 412 officers and men have received the
coveted reward, and of these, apparently, 166 are still living. It
has reached all classes. There are still serving with the colours
(in 1896) 1 field-marshal, 6 generals, 2 major-generals, 6 colonels,
4 lieutenant-colonels, 4 majors, 5 captains, 1 lieutenant, 1
quartermaster, 1 surgeon-lieutenant-colonel, 2 surgeon-majors, 2
surgeon-captains, 1 sergeant-major, 1 colour-sergeant, 1 corporal, and
2 privates who wear the bronze cross. Medals were issued to all the
rank and file, with clasps for the actions in which they had shared;
and to these were added a certain proportion of Turkish, Sardinian, and
French medals for special distribution.
Many other small regulations were made for the benefit of both officers
and men, and people of all classes vied in welcoming the soldiers
home. At last the long-expiring dread of an army was nearly dead. At
Sheffield, Mr. Roebuck, at a dinner given to the 4th Dragoon Guards,
said in his speech that our soldiers are “the protectors of England,
they are the protectors of our glory, they are the protectors of our
freedom. And here now is one striking instance that your institution
affords of the thorough confidence we have in you, and in the
institution to which you belong. We are not afraid of soldiers. We
love you as brethren, and we know that you will protect us as such.”
These are welcome words to those who have seen how strong had been the
antipathy to a standing army in the past. By sheer patience, sheer
bravery, and continuous good behaviour, the standing army had won its
place in the national heart.
All the infantry were now armed with a new rifle, the Enfield. The
Minié, introduced in 1853, was very heavy, indeed far too heavy, and
carried an ounce ball. Its calibre had been that of the Brown Bess, the
heavy flintlock musket that preceded the percussion weapon of 1840,
and which had won for us much of our Empire; as this in its turn had
followed the wheel-lock and matchlock arms. The survival of the first
infantry missile weapon since the days of bow and crossbow is shown in
the term “firelock,” applied to the musket of the rank and file, even
long after the campaign of Waterloo. It was now replaced by a lighter
weapon, so that sixty rounds of ball ammunition could be carried on the
person.
So with the bayonet. At first it was merely a dagger which was
thrust, not screwed, into the muzzle of the smooth-bore gun. Then it
became socketed and lengthened. When the length of the gun barrel was
diminished, it was also lengthened, as either the “sword bayonet,”
or the very long bayonet that was, for a while, introduced with the
Martini-Henry rifle. Finally, it has reverted more or less to its
original form and length, and the Lee-Mitford has ceased to be a
serious pike.
CHAPTER XIV
THE ARMY IN INDIA: (_a_) THE EAST INDIA COMPANY, ITS RISE--1600-1825
It was not until the year 1600 that the attention of English merchants
was seriously turned to India. Long before that, Portugal first, then
its conqueror, Spain, next the Dutch, and finally the French, had
gained a footing in Hindustan, and with factories had established
trade. The beginnings were small enough. Surat near Bombay and Bantam
in Java were first occupied by us, and in 1640 a footing was obtained
on the mainland, and Madras came into being. This replaced Bantam,
as the cession of Bombay did Surat. Similarly, a factory, higher up
the Hooghley, was transferred to Fort-William, around which grew up
Calcutta. By 1708 the various rival companies which had been formed
were united under one head; and while the privileges of the Company
were continually renewed and extended, the foreign opposition of
our rivals in India, save France established at Chandernagore and
Pondicherry on the Madras side, gradually died away and disappeared.
In 1744 the two opposing forces came into active antagonism. On the
French side, Dupleix, already at the head of the French “Raj,” a man of
considerable ability, had gained enormous influence over the factions
that made up the Mogul empire. He, with Labourdonnais, from Mauritius,
had even captured, and held to ransom, Madras; while, by fighting and
diplomacy, the French completely controlled the policy of the Carnatic
and Deccan.
But rising into note on the opposing side was Robert Clive; who, after
defeating the French and their allies at Arcot and Conjeveram, raised
the siege of Trichinopoly. Both French leaders had failed, and both
died in France in suffering and comparative poverty; but Clive, after a
journey home, returned to India, to find that Surajah Dowlah, Nabob of
Bengal, had captured Calcutta and caused the death of the majority of
the survivors by their imprisonment in the “Black Hole.”
The intricate, and not very creditable, diplomacy that ensued
culminated in the battle of Plassy, notorious as being won against
extraordinary odds, and as leading directly to the destruction of the
French power in India.
The European, or at first largely half-caste army employed there was
not numerous. The remains of the garrison that had been sent to take
possession of the Bombay dowry formed the nucleus of the “Bombay
Regiment,” which became the Bengal Fusiliers, or “Old Toughs,” and is
now the 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers. They behaved gallantly in
the early fighting at Cuddalore and Davicottah, but did not come on the
strength of the home army until 1858. In 1754 the first true European
regiment, the 39th, was despatched to hold Madras. For this it is
distinguished by the motto “_Primus in Indis_.” It is most curious to
note, therefore, in all these early efforts at dominion in India, the
Madras Sepoy took a most important part, and behaved manfully.
Two smaller “affairs,” the capture of Fort Hooghley and Chandernagore,
preceded the more important battle of Plassy, where the Indian army
numbered 50,000 infantry, 20,000 cavalry, and 50 guns, and met Clive
in the “groves of Plassy,” with a force roughly estimated at 1000
Europeans, namely, the 39th, the 1st Bengal and 1st Bombay Fusiliers
(now the 1st Battalion Royal Munster and 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin
Fusiliers), with 2000 Sepoys and 8 six-pounders, with 2 howitzers.
The battle lasted from the 22nd till the morning of the 23rd June,
and resulted in the dispersion of the enemy with a loss in killed and
wounded on the British side of but seventy-two men. But though far
reaching in its results, it, however decisive, cannot be classed
among the great battles of history. The insignificant numbers of
Clive’s army on the one side, the treachery displayed by most of
the great chieftains of Surajah Dowlah, even the small cost of the
victory, show that the fighting itself could not have been severe.
But for the disloyalty of Mir Jafar and others, the British army must
have been driven into the river they had crossed in order to engage
the enemy. Had this been otherwise, the history of India might have
been differently written. As it was, the moral effect was great. It
was the first real military footing the British had in the Indian
Peninsula. “It was Plassy which forced her to become one of the main
factors in the settlement of the burning Eastern Question; Plassy which
necessitated the conquest and colonisation of the Cape of Good Hope, of
the Mauritius, and the protectorship over Egypt.”
By 1761, therefore, the French power was but a name; and, reinforced
now from home by three more battalions, of which the 79th was one,
the British defeated the French at Wandewash, where only European
troops were engaged on the British side. There the old 79th behaved
magnificently; and later on, the war led to the addition of the names
of Buxar and Carnatic (as well as that of Plassy) to the colours of the
103rd.
[Illustration: _OUTLINE MAP of INDIA._]
If Plassy had been the turning-point in the early days of British
effort at conquest, so Wandewash showed the natives the fighting
strength of other foreign aspirants for political power in India
besides France, and led as directly to the expulsion of the French from
the Indian Peninsula, as did the capture of Quebec settle for ever
the rivalry for supreme power in North America. With this victory the
fear of British power among the natives arose and strengthened. During
all this time, the power of the East India Company had been gradually
extending, and in 1773 was appointed the first Governor-General of
India, Warren Hastings. Meanwhile, as the years crept on, a new
native state was rising, that would also seek by a French alliance
to check the political advance of Great Britain in India. Hyder
Ali, a Mahometan chieftain in the army of Mysore, had succeeded in
establishing himself on the throne of his Hindu predecessor. Commanding
an irregular army estimated at 150,000 men, he was disposed to be
threatening; and on the principle of _divide et impera_, Hastings
proposed to play off, by alliance, the Deccan and Oudh against this
new disturbing element, which was fast spreading its influence over
Western and Northern India. In 1780 the chance arose. Hyder took the
offensive, defeated and massacred the small army under Colonel Baillie
at Conjeveram, and attacked Madras, but he was checked finally by Sir
Eyre Coote, and in 1783 the general peace put an end to hostilities,
though not for long, and though Hyder himself was dead.
By this time the European army had slightly increased. To the troops
already there had been added the 71st (then the 73rd), the 72nd (then
the 78th), and the old 73rd, and a second battalion of the 42nd; and
these had furnished the backbone of the resistance against Hyder Ali’s
son Tippoo Saib.
There was hard fighting at Mangalore, which gained for the 73rd the
honour of bearing the name on its colours for bravery during the seven
months of a dreadful siege; and against the French at Cuddalore, where
Colonel Wagenheim of the 15th Hanoverian Regiment made prisoner a young
French sergeant, and, struck by his appearance, personally directed
his wounds to be dressed. Many years after, when the victorious
French, under Marshal Bernadotte, entered Hanover, Wagenheim, by that
time an aged general, attended his levée. Bernadotte asked him if he
recollected the wounded French sergeant to whom he had been so kind
at Cuddalore. The general replied in the affirmative. “That young
sergeant,” replied the future king of Sweden, “was the person who
has now the honour to address you, and who rejoices in having this
public opportunity of acknowledging his debt of gratitude to General
Wagenheim.”
Here also were engaged some 300 marines under Major Monson, and in
the ranks of his command served a certain Hannah Snell. “She behaved
with conspicuous courage, and received a ball in the groin, which she
herself extracted two days afterwards. Eleven other wounds in both
legs rendered her removal to the hospital at Cuddalore absolutely
necessary, and, having returned home, her sex was not discovered until
she obtained her discharge. She afterwards wore the marine dress, and,
having presented a petition to H.R.H. the Duke of Cumberland, obtained
a pension of £30 a year for life.”
For a time hostilities languished, but they were resumed against the
Mysoreans in 1789, when Cannanore was taken; and finally, in 1792,
Tippoo’s capital, Seringapatam, fell, and his two sons were left as
hostages for the fulfilment of the treaty of peace that followed.
All this led to increased interest in Indian affairs by the home
Government, and a corresponding increase in the number of European
troops employed. In India there were by now the 23rd Light Dragoons, a
regiment of Hanoverians, the 74th, 75th, 76th, and 77th Regiments of
the line, together with the 98th, and the European Regiments of the
East India Company; so that in 1784 the white troops numbered nearly
18,000 men. Hostilities recommenced in 1799 with Tippoo, and this time
finally. With all his savage cruelty, he was a man of some military
genius, as far as his education went. He does not seem to have lacked
personal bravery; and notwithstanding the want of communication with
England, he watched with interest the contests his British enemy in
India was waging elsewhere. He corresponded with the French authorities
in Mauritius; therefore, in 1797, with a view to a French alliance, he
entered into negotiations with the Nizam and the Ameer of Afghanistan
to help him, as Mahometans, against the “Feringhi” foe. But the
Governor-General, Lord Mornington, was not prepared to wait till the
war-clouds had fully gathered.
Warning Tippoo first, he assembled an army against him. The Bombay
troops, under Stuart, were despatched to the Coromandel coast;
at Malavelly, the Madras army under Haes, composed of Sepoys
stiffened by the 33rd Regiment, at that time under the command of
Lieutenant-Colonel Arthur Wellesley, won a victory; and finally,
after a brief siege, Seringapatam was carried by storm. Here the flank
companies of the 12th, 33rd, 73rd, and 74th gallantly led the way,
supported by the 12th and 75th, some 1200 native infantry, and 1000
British and 1800 native cavalry; a force which, with 60 field and 40
siege guns and their crews, numbered nearly 22,000 men. Two other
armies co-operated more or less with the above; the one the troops of
the Nizam, with some Sepoys, under Wellesley, the other under Stuart,
formed of Sepoys and 1600 Europeans, including the old 103rd. The
attack on Seringapatam was made at night, and fiercely resisted, war
rockets being freely used by the defenders. But the British troops were
not to be denied. The place was carried with much slaughter, and Tippoo
fell, sword in hand, in the gateway of his capital, surrounded by his
faithful followers, of whose dead bodies there lay seventy “in a space
4 yards wide by 12 long.”
It was to Sir David Baird that the chief credit of the assault was
due, but none the less he was superseded in the government of the city
by Colonel Wellesley, the brother of the Governor-General. “And thus,
before the sweat was dry on my brow, I was superseded by an inferior
officer.” These are his own words. But he lived to do distinguished
work later, in Egypt, whither Wellesley was to have gone also, had not
fever checked him.
Thus the whole kingdom of Mysore was practically added to the
increasing empire of Great Britain, but brought her into hostile
contact with the empire of the Mahrattas. This was founded by Sivagi
in the previous century, and extended from Delhi to a tributary of
the Krishna, and from Gujerat to the Bay of Bengal. Its leading
chieftains were, speaking generally, the Peishwa at Poona, the Rajah
of Berar, Scindia in the Northern Deccan, Holkar about Malwa, and
the Guikowar about Gujerat. Touching these were the tributary state
of the Nizam, the conquered Mysore, and the rest of the Carnatic and
other territories that had succumbed to the growing land-hunger of the
British Company.
The former governor of Seringapatam, now Lord Wellesley, was
Governor-General of India. The perpetual antagonism of the native
rulers among themselves gave him the same opportunity of assisting the
one against the other as had fallen to his predecessors. He availed
himself of the political chance as they had, but not to the same
extent. There was a greater knowledge arising of Indian affairs, due
possibly to the former action of Warren Hastings, and the prominency
his impeachment by Burke in the House of Commons had given to these
matters, and possibly also a growing popular interest in the political
conduct of our rule in the great peninsula.
There was still the danger of French intervention and assistance.
France, in those days, stood as an always possibly active opponent of
the East India Company, as Russia does now of the Imperial Government
of the same land.
Wellesley’s policy was rather one of subsidised alliances with the
native princes than the active assistance of one against the other
in local wars. Doubtless the practical result was much the same. The
dominant power, in the long-run, absorbed the feeble units, to all
intents and purposes, as fully as Clive and his successors had by war
brought vast territories under the British rule.
The Peishwa made the first overtures. He wanted to regain his lost
pre-eminence, and by the treaty of Bassein it was agreed to restore
him. “It was the greatest diplomatic triumph which the world has ever
witnessed. On the eve of a contest impending, which could not have been
long delayed, between the Máráthá Confederacy and the British, it broke
up the Máráthá Confederacy, it relieved the English of the danger which
had long threatened them of having to face at one and the same time the
united power of a league whose territories comprehended the North-West
Provinces of India, Central India, and the greater part of Western
India, and allowed them to meet and conquer each section of that league
singly.”[55]
So the natural results followed. The rest of the Mahratta leaders
formed common cause against the Peishwa and his new ally. They had,
directly and indirectly, the assistance of their former ally, the
French. Scindia had the aid and counsel of Perron, who had organised
the former’s army after European methods. Pondicherry, restored to
France by the treaty of Amiens, was a base of operations should that
nation be at war with us, and had temporary command of the eastern
seas. Wellesley made the first move, and restored the Peishwa by the
capture of Poona; but it was evident the “restoration” was but a sham.
For a combined movement was organised. Wellesley took charge of the
Deccan, Lake that of the Ganges, while other minor columns, under
Stevenson, Murray, Campbell, and Harcourt, threatened other points of
the Mahratta Confederacy.
The struggle was of no long duration. Wellesley and Stevenson moved
in two columns against Scindia, and took Ahmednuggur; but, unable to
concentrate in time, only Wellesley’s column was engaged in the battle
of Assaye that followed, so that only 4500 British troops were opposed
to some 30,000 of the enemy. Disproportionate as the numbers were, the
soundest policy was to attack. To stand on the defensive would have
been but to increase the enemy’s morale, and to betray a weakness, or
rather a hesitation, that with Asiatics is fatal. The battle was short,
sanguinary, and successful. The Mahrattas were badly beaten, a hundred
guns being captured, but at a loss of some 600 killed, and 1500 wounded.
The 74th and 78th Regiments bore the brunt of the battle, to the
success of which the charge of the 19th Light Dragoons largely
contributed. Here it was that the general’s quick eye for ground was
evidenced. With so small an army, to get protection for the flanks
was essential, especially bearing in mind the threatening masses of
the enemy’s cavalry. So, through noticing that there were two houses
directly opposite to one another on either bank of the river Krishna,
he surmised that this indicated a ford, and, crossing there, advanced
against the enemy with the flanks of his two lines resting on the
river and a tributary stream. He recognised, too, that though weak in
numbers and not concentrated, to fight was wiser than retreat, and that
in such a terrain a small, determined, well-directed army could act
victoriously, if vigorously handled, against an unwieldy mass, which
such ground cramped. None the less it was running a grave risk; but his
own coolness and steadiness, and, above all, his power of directing a
battle, were never more clearly shown.
So the battle was won, and well won, by skill against the brute force
of numbers. It was Wellesley’s first battle as a general in command,
and with the battle of Argaum which followed, the Mahratta power was
completely broken. The war in South-west India was over.
Meanwhile, Lake had not been idle in the northern theatre of war. He
had captured Alighur, and had won a brilliant victory at Delhi. His
whole force there numbered but 4500 as against 13,000 infantry, 60
guns, and 6000 cavalry, led in many cases by French officers, but the
infantry marched up to within eighty yards of the enemy with their
“firelocks” at the shoulder, covered by the cavalry, who by a feigned
retreat drew the enemy from his entrenchments, and then, wheeling to
either flank, exposed the would-be pursuing enemy to the fire of the
infantry line, which, having repulsed them, re-formed column for the
cavalry to complete the rout. It is a very good illustration of the
tactical formation of the time against such adversaries.
Restoring Shah Allum to the throne of the Moguls, Lake speedily
followed up his victory by seizing Agra, and then still more decisively
defeated Scindia’s army at Laswarree. In the preliminary skirmish the
cavalry brigade, composed of the Royal Irish Hussars, the 27th and
29th Dragoons, and the native regiments, showed the greatest gallantry
in checking the enemy’s retreat. During a long night march of nearly
twenty-five miles, and in the battle itself, the 76th distinguished
itself by its coolness and gallantry as throughout the campaign. The
fighting in this battle showed more desperate tenacity than in any
other previous battle in India. The loss to the British was about
one-fifth of a force of some 4000 men, and the enemy stubbornly
contested the ground, foot by foot and gun by gun. The operations of
the other column had been equally successful, and though Holkar still
fought on, the war ceased in 1805, and Cuttack was annexed. During
these operations the 8th, 27th, and 29th Light Dragoons, and the 22nd,
65th, 75th, 76th, and 86th regiments had been employed in India. Thus
practically terminated Wellesley’s active Indian career; as did that of
Lake, not long after, by death.
To both men is largely due the extension of our own Empire by the
destruction of those of the Indian princelets. Lake’s bravery, his
boldness even to rashness, is everywhere remarkable. On more than
one occasion in this very war he had personally led the attacks, as
Wellesley had, in his battles, directed them. He “was a man whose
influence with his soldiers was unbounded, whose calmness in danger,
whose self-reliance, and whose power of commanding confidence have
never been surpassed. He had but one way of dealing with the native
armies of India, that of moving straight forward, of attacking them
wherever he found them. He never was so great as on the battlefield. He
could think more clearly under the roar of bullets than in the calmness
and quiet of his tent. In this respect he resembled Clive. It was this
quality which enabled him to dare the almost impossible. That which in
others would have been rash, in Lake was prudent daring.”[56]
Of course in all such cases much depends on the arms and tactical
system of the adversary. With most, if not all, of the native levies
it seems to have been an axiom to avoid a decisive engagement save
in overwhelming numbers; and rather to seek, by retiring before and
ravaging the country, to deprive the enemy of supplies, while at the
same time his flank and rear were harassed by cavalry masses.
Such seems to have been the tactical method of the armies both Lake
and Wellesley had to meet. Of Lake’s own views in the matter there
is nothing especially recorded; but of the last-mentioned general it
is stated that he gave the following advice to his coadjutor in the
Mahratta war:--“Suppose that you determine to have a brush with the
enemy, do not attack their positions, because they always take up such
as are confoundedly strong and difficult of access, for which the banks
of rivers afford them facilities. Do not remain in your own position,
however strong it may be, or however well you may have entrenched it;
but when you shall hear that they are on the march to attack you,
secure your baggage and move out of your camp. You will find them in
the common disorder of march; they will not have time to form, which,
being but half-disciplined troops, is necessary for them. At all
events, you will have the advantage of making the attack on ground
which they have not chosen for the battle; a part of their troops only
will be engaged, and you will gain an easy victory.”
This was sound advice, and obtained for many years after the writer had
returned to Europe, where this “General of Sepoys,” as Napoleon dubbed
him, was to see harder work and a different style of fighting than
Assaye.
War broke out with the Ghoorkas in Nepal in 1813-15; other hostilities
occurred with the Pindari freebooters in 1815, when the enemy, arrogant
and blustering, were defeated by the 24th, 66th, and 87th, with Indian
troops in addition under Ochterlony, and converted into friends.
They had no great opinion of us at first. We had “been driven from
Bhurtpore, which was the work of man: how should they then storm the
mountain citadel, which was built by the hands of God?” But they took
their punishment with good humour, and having appealed to China, as the
suzerain power, to help them, after all requested _our_ assistance if
the relieving army entered their territories. Thus this little frontier
state of India first brought us within measureable distance of war with
the Celestial Empire.
Finally, there was fighting with the Mahrattas again, at Nagpore
(where the second battalion of the Royal Scots behaved with exemplary
steadiness), at Maheidpore and Corregaum, at Soonee and Talnere, and
lastly, at the capture of the fortress of Assirghur, “the Gibraltar of
the East.”
In this latter “affair,” the Royal Scots, the flank companies of the
38th, 67th, and Madras European Regiments, vied with each other in the
siege and storm of this most formidable fortress. The result of all
these operations was that the bulk of our late enemy’s possessions was
annexed to the Empire.
The strength of the European army, both Imperial and local, had
steadily grown. In 1817 there were four cavalry regiments, the 8th,
17th, 22nd, and 24th Light Dragoons, and the 7th, 8th, 14th, 65th,
67th, 87th, and 47th Regiments of the line, serving in India.
With the exception of some punitive expeditions against the Wahabees in
the Persian Gulf, and against the Kandians in Ceylon, little occurred
for many years, except the second and successful siege of Bhurtpore;
though the Ameers of Scinde were at times restless, and their action
foreshadowed at no distant period a serious campaign.
But the capture of Bhurtpore is an important epoch in our military
history in India. It was the capital of the Jauts, who boasted that
neither the English nor the Mogul had been able to subdue them. But
their self-confidence had a rude awakening. For Lord Combermere
assembled an army in November 1825, among which were the 11th Dragoons,
16th Lancers, and the 14th and 59th Regiments, with the future 101st,
and this force brilliantly carried the hitherto impregnable fortress
by storm. The 16th Lancers, who had only recently been armed with the
lance, especially distinguished themselves, and slew or took prisoners
3000 cavalry and infantry of the enemy, when attempting to escape after
the great breach was carried, this latter duty falling mainly to the
14th and 59th.
A curious bit of superstition gathers round the fall of Bhurtpore. The
native tradition was, that the place would only fall when an alligator,
or _kumbhir_, “drank up the waters of the city ditch.” When, therefore,
Lord Combermere invested the place, and, by cutting the banks of Lake
“Mootee Jheel,” prevented the ditch from being filled with water, the
old prediction was in native eyes awfully fulfilled.
Among the spoil, amounting in value to £500,000, was found, singularly
enough, a small cannon of brass, bearing the inscription, “Jacobus
Monteith me fecit, Edinburgh, anno Dom. 1642.”
This important victory not only confirmed the conquest of India, but,
by wiping out the remembrance of Lord Lake’s failure to carry the place
in 1805 with the flank companies of the 22nd, 57th, and 76th line
Regiments, and the Company’s European Regiment, it restored the British
prestige among the natives, and prevented the occurrence of a general
rising against our rule, which the absence of so large a number of
troops in Ava rendered possible, if not from positive dislike to us,
from a desire for plunder. In this gallant siege hand grenades were
used for the last time in India.
CHAPTER XV
THE ARMY IN INDIA--(_b_) THE FALL OF THE COMPANY AND
AFTERWARDS--1825-1858
While peace reigned in Europe, as far as our army was concerned, for
nearly forty years after Waterloo, our Eastern Empire had meanwhile
been growing by war and conquest.
Reference has already been made to the introduction of the percussion
musket, but the Afghan war of 1840 was the first campaign in which it
was used, the 13th and many other regiments still carrying the “Brown
Bess.”
It is curious to note, in referring to this period, what was the
opinion of distinguished officers, both as regards the education
necessary for an officer and what his expenses should be. Of course
these were “piping times of peace” everywhere save in India; and the
army, “kept in the background,” took little place in the general life
of the nation.
With regard to such education, Sir John Burgoyne considered that the
first four rules of arithmetic were sufficient for the young officer,
and that with regard to fractions, “it is going a little too far.” He
did not think one boy out of fifty could do either “simple equations or
a little French,” that not one “educated gentleman” out of fifty could
do “a sum of addition or subtraction by logarithms.” He was not of
opinion that a knowledge of the theoretical part of the profession was
necessary to make a very good subaltern officer, and thought it was not
even required “to make a very good commanding officer in the field.”
He saw no good in such training. He doubted “if the Duke of Wellington
had any very high theoretic knowledge; it is very likely that he could
not have solved a problem in Euclid, or even worked out a question in
simple equations or logarithms.” When the leaders of the army held
these views, it is not surprising that the educational standard of the
examination for admission to the army was not high. So we find General
Wetherall was not “a friend to an examination before an officer enters
the army.” He thought the Horse Guards’ principle in looking over the
papers of candidates for direct commissions very fair, when “if they
find that the questions which a boy cannot pass are not very material,
they allow the boy to pass.” But the same officer foreshadows the
system that afterwards obtained, for a time, in agreeing with Lord
Monck’s view that after the preliminary examination for the commission,
he should be sent “for a year or two to the senior department at
Sandhurst, before he was put to regimental duties.”
Such was the military domestic life of these years before the Mutiny;
and in such a question the change was so gradual that it is hard to
say when it really came. After 1858 there were many alterations in the
inner life of the army, doubtless; but before then, notwithstanding
the much-abused system of purchase, officers lived apparently less
extravagantly than they do now. Modern extravagance is due, no
doubt, to the general increase of luxury among all classes; but it
is curious to read, in an official blue-book of the early fifties,
Lieutenant-Colonel Adams’ evidence, in which he states: “Very many men
never had a farthing in the regiment which I first joined, when we
were quartered at Plymouth with a regiment of the Guards. There were
people of all ranks there; there were guardsmen and cavalrymen. Colonel
Stewart, the son of the famous philosopher Dugald Stewart, was a man
of property. And people not only lived there without a farthing beside
their pay, but our establishment was so good that frequently it has
been remarked to me by officers of the Guards, ‘All your people are
men of property.’ ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘I wish they were, but most of them
get nothing beside their pay.’” It is strange to read opinions so much
at variance with those of the bulk of the officers to-day. He did not
think that the poorer men got into debt more readily than those with
good allowances, which “stimulated them to keep horses and get into
racing.” The whole style of living in the army must have been widely
different from what it is now. Sir Howard Douglas’s evidence was: “When
I first entered the service, the officers’ mess was very much what the
sergeants’ mess is now. Subalterns could live on their pay, and did
in every regiment live on their pay.” This statement, however, seems
to refer to the days of the Peninsular War, and not to the long peace
that followed it. With greater wealth in the country came also among
all classes greater luxury, though possibly by slow degrees. General
Wetherall, however, though he “knew a great many examples of men who
had passed, and had been many years in the army without a shilling
besides their pay, and who had saved money upon it,” considered a young
officer should have “a minimum of £60 and a maximum of £100 per annum
in addition to his pay.” Colonel Adams gave as his opinion: “You can
never get one person out of fifty to enter into any studies whatever
when once they have got their commission.” This was the general feeling
during the period from 1825 to 1858. There is no doubt that the Crimean
War first, and the Mutiny finally, altered much of this; but the change
was very gradual none the less.
Turn now to the military history of the time in which these men lived.
During the period under review, from 1825 to 1858 and afterwards, there
were hostilities in the Levant in 1840-41, at Beirouth, D’Jebaila,
Ornagacuan, Sidon, and Acre, under Sir Charles Napier, but these
were mainly naval operations, in which the Royal Marines only of the
army shared; and a second war occurred in Burmah in 1852, which will
be dealt with in a later chapter; as also will the wars with China
beginning in 1839, which resulted in the cession of the island of Hong
Kong to Great Britain. There were also disturbances at Aden, suppressed
by the 5th Foot and the Bombay European Regiment in 1840.
But before the Crimean War there were important campaigns fought in
the Indian Peninsula which had important results. These were the first
wars with the Afghans, that with the Ameers of Scinde, and the two
Sikh campaigns. The first of these, that with Afghanistan, was induced
by causes somewhat similar to those which caused a recrudescence of
hostilities many years later. What were called Russian intrigues were
at work, or supposed to be. At anyrate, a Russian agent appeared at
Cabul, and a demand was made for his dismissal. The fear, which has
not yet died out, that in Russia’s natural extension into Central
Asia, if only as a counterpoise to our own antagonistic influence at
Constantinople and in the Balkan Peninsula, where she wished her own
influence to be supreme, there was a danger to our rule in India, was
held then as now. It is clear, therefore, that in those days, as in
these, we, at the bottom of us, are not at all satisfied that our rule
has really linked these Eastern people to us. We rule only; we neither
absorb nor are absorbed. The Russians do the former, and therein lies
their strength. They are by origin Asiatics, and in going back to their
birthplace, they retain the power England can _never_ have. As barbaric
hordes they invaded Eastern Europe. Checked there by the higher
civilisation of the West, they have learned to impose on their natural
Asiatic savagery the Western veneer. “Scratch the Russian and you find
the Tartar, the Central Asian, beneath.” They are new to Europe, these
Russians. They, after the Turks, are the last of the invading Aryan
waves. Stopped by the Western peoples, they have turned, like a river,
backward to their source. Religious rancour is far less keen with
them anywhere West or East, but especially East. Ali Khan, the rebel
Samarcand nomad, settles down quite quietly with his fellows to become
the decorated “Colonel Alikhanoff” of the Russian army, who helped, in
some degree, to create the “Pendjeh incident.” Why not? They are both
from the same stock, and separated by but a small interval of time.
Russia would have absorbed India; we have only conquered it. Every
native officer is subordinate to the white soldier of the British
“Raj.” Russia would have made them her equals. We have won the Empire
by the sword, and must govern it thereby. We have colonised elsewhere,
and even intermarried. In India we do neither. All the professions of
native chieftains in India must be taken just for what every sensible
man takes them. To love conquerors? Never! We English would never do
so, however righteous the government of the alien power that held
the reins might be. Given the best foreign government that could be
devised over England, and there is not one man with the spirit of his
forefathers in him that would not rise, when the time came, in open and
avowed insurrection.
These points are worth considering before we deal at all with the wars
that have led to the extension of the Empire, preceded the Mutiny, of
which more hereafter, and have culminated in superficial peace. Bokhara
and Samarcand, other Central Asian khanates, are part and parcel of the
army and strength of the legions of the White Czar. Certainly; they
are, after all, as before remarked, of the same racial stock.
Indian rajahs and princelets, potentates and ryots, are still the
subject beings of the white who rules them, but does not mix with them.
Instinctively, it would seem, England recognised a danger from Russia,
but did not see what was at the bottom of it, nor her own helplessness
to prevent it. When the first Afghan war broke out, Russia proper and
India were _very_ far apart. Foolish politicians laughed when soldiers,
wiser men than they, men who are part of the story of the army, looked
and talked gravely. Unwise civilians jeered in the House of Commons
at the idea of the Russian frontier and ours ever being conterminous.
Soldiers can jeer now at these very stupid people. The frontiers that
never were to be, never could be, touching, _are_ touching, and between
the Russian Empire and our own Indian possessions is the buffer state
of Afghanistan, the prize of the highest bidder or of the strongest
power when the time comes.
The whole Eastern Question is grave, so long as we forget that we are
not liked and can only keep what our forefathers won by bravery, and
their grandchildren cannot hold by talk and whining; so long as we
forget that all the tall talk and all the missionary talk is only so
much wasted breath, so long must it be worth while, in studying the
story of the army, to view gravely the one most dangerous frontier in
all our vast possessions,--the strip of land which lies between Russia
the earnest and England the supine; to that one bit of _terra firma_
that, not careless politicians, but their guards and national police,
the soldiers, look on gravely and seriously. In Afghan territory the
ultimate danger lies.
So this dread of Russia was really the cause of the coercive expedition
despatched in 1839; but the ostensible cause was different, and is
characteristic of the methods which have led to our gradually obtaining
supreme power in Hindostan. A domestic quarrel had arisen as to the
succession to the Afghan throne which Dost Mahomed Khan, assumed to
incline towards Russia, had seized, and which Shah Sujah, a son of
the late monarch, also claimed. Thus primarily war was undertaken, to
nominally place on the throne a prince unpopular and bad, and whose
tenure of authority therefore only lasted just as long as he had
British bayonets at his back.
There was little serious opposition in the first phase of the campaign.
The advance was made by way of Quettah and the Bolan on Candahar. The
Khan of Khelat foresaw the difficulty that was to come. He knew that
Dost Mahomed was a man of ability and resource, and that his rival was
the reverse. “You have brought an army into the country” he remarked to
Burnes, “but how do you propose to take it back again?” The so-called
native army, which was supposed to accompany Sujah and which was paid
by us, did not contain a single Afghan, and was, though native, purely
alien. The hill tribes assailed the columns in the mountain defiles, as
might have been expected, and whenever they were taken, they were shot
or hanged, no quarter being given![57] This must be taken into serious
consideration when we blame the Afghans for the dreadful revenge,
later on, came. The losses in men and animals in crossing the mountain
barrier had been already heavy. The supplies were so insufficient that
the men were on half, the camp followers on quarter, rations. Still,
Candahar fell without resistance, Ghazni was stormed by the 13th Light
Infantry and Bengal Europeans, and an uninterrupted march to Cabul was
followed by the peaceful occupation of the city. But the capital of
the unfortunate Khan of Khelat was taken by the 2nd and 17th Foot, and
the Khan himself slain. Finally another column, under Wade, forced the
Khyber Pass, took Jellalabad, and the conquest of the country seemed
complete. But no European could venture far outside the camps or out of
the range of British guns. In 1841 the Khyber Pass was virtually closed
by the insurgent tribes. Sale, with the 13th and some Sepoy troops,
was sent to clear it, and was shut up in Jellalabad in October of that
year; and when the bitter winter came, and the garrison of Cabul, which
had been reinforced by the 44th Foot, attempted to return to India,
the whole force was either destroyed or made prisoners. Only one man,
Dr. Brydon, escaped alive to Jellalabad, to relate the awful tale. The
whole details of the termination of the first occupation of Cabul are
both dreadful and humiliating. All told, some twenty thousand human
beings actually perished in the retreat. Thus, with Sale shut up in
Jellalabad, Ghazni retaken by the Afghans and its garrison butchered,
and Nott in Candahar, the new year 1842 dawned.
To restore a prestige damaged as much by general incapacity as by
loss, the army of relief, or of “vengeance,” as some call it, though
it is difficult to see the fitness of the term, was formed at Peshawur
under Pollock. We had, for political reasons, invaded a territory
inhabited by barbarous tribes on the flimsiest of excuses. We had
begun the slaughtering “without quarter” the hill tribes who defended
their native passes; we had tried to force on an unwilling nation the
man they hated, and who was backed by what they hated even more, a
Christian army. But “what in the officer is but a choleric word, is,
in the soldier, rank blasphemy;” what is patriotism in one case is on
the part of others unjustifiable and unwarrantable rebellion. Even Lord
Ellenborough thought the war a folly which might even prove a crime.
But the great god “Prestige” had been invoked, and Pollock marched. He
had, as European troops, the 3rd Light Dragoons, with the 9th and 31st
Foot. With Nott were still the 40th and 41st. Pollock again forced the
Khyber and relieved Jellalabad, but had to halt there for some months
to organise his transport. Sale’s defence had been magnificent. For
five months he had defended a ruined fortress racked by earthquake. So
short of regimental officers for duty was the 13th Foot that sergeants
were generally employed, and hence arose the custom in the regiment of
the sergeants wearing the sash on the right shoulder, the same as the
officers.[58] Shah Sujah was assassinated. Nott defeated the investing
Afghan army outside Candahar, and marched on Cabul with 7000 men; while
Pollock and Sale, after some stiff fighting in the Jugdulluck and
Tezeen passes, also advanced, and the collected armies reoccupied Cabul.
Shortly after, when the prisoners taken in the retreat had been
released, the army returned to India, leaving Afghanistan just as they
had found it, but with a dreadful and increased legacy of hate behind.
The only thing of note we brought back were the sacred gates of
Somnath, which the Mahomedan invaders had taken back with them after a
successful foray some centuries previous; but the _coup_ fell flat, and
nobody was gratified!
Now arose the “tail of the Afghan storm.” The Ameers of Scinde had
openly favoured our enemies in the recent war. They were defiant, at
least, and covertly hostile. What better cause could there be for war?
Besides, they were undoubtedly tyrannical, and alien to the Hindus they
governed, or misgoverned. The Beloochees formed their army and were
ruthless. A Beloochee might slay with impunity either Hindu or Scindee;
there was no redress. Like Conqueror William, they had laid waste
vast areas to form hunting grounds; they did not favour commerce,
though they were quite ready to rob the merchant of his gains. In this
case, at least, it may be deemed that the end justified the means.
European methods of government and justice have converted what was a
poverty-stricken district into one of comparative plenty.
To Sir Charles Napier was entrusted the conduct of the war. There had
been a British Residency at Hyderabad, the capital, and here Outram,
the Resident, was attacked on the 15th February 1843, as soon as Napier
had crossed the Indus and interposed between the Northern and Southern
Ameers, and taken the fortress of Emaum Ghur. To meet the field army
the British force was a mere handful, and counted but 2600 men all
told, with 12 guns, and with but one European regiment, the 22nd, to
stiffen the rest. Against him, in position at Meanee, were 30,000
infantry, 5000 cavalry, and 15 guns, well posted behind the Fulaillee
river, and with the flanks resting on woods. But Napier knew the value
of the initiative, and trusted to drill and discipline against numbers,
and his confidence was fully justified. The enemy fought with the
utmost stubbornness. The battle opened by the British along the river
bank firing at 100 yards, and by the Beloochees with their matchlocks
at 15 yards! When the 22nd crowned the bank, “they staggered back in
amazement at the forest of swords waving in their front. Thick as
standing corn and gorgeous as a field of flowers stood the Beloochees
in their many-coloured garments and turbans; they filled the broad,
deep bed of the ravine, they clustered on both banks, and covered the
plain beyond. Guarding their heads with their large dark shields, they
shook their sharp swords, beaming in the sun, their shouts rolling like
a peal of thunder, as with frantic gestures they dashed forward, with
demoniac strength and ferocity, full against the front of the 22nd.
But with shouts as loud and shrieks as wild and fierce as theirs, and
hearts as big and arms as strong, the Irish soldiers met them with the
queen of weapons, the musket, and sent their foremost masses rolling
back in blood.”
Still the struggle continued, but not for long. Nearly all the European
officers were down, twenty were killed or wounded, and then the cavalry
were let go. The enemy had held his ground for three hours, and then
sullenly retired, beaten, but not subdued. “The victors followed
closely, pouring in volley after volley, until tired of slaughtering;
yet these stern, implacable warriors preserved their habitual swinging
stride, and would not quicken it to a run, though death was at their
heels.”[59]
One more fight at Dubba, and then the pacification of the province and
the dispersion of robber bands was left to Sir Charles Napier. Scinde
and Meerpore were added to the British dominions in India; and no finer
or more loyal regiments have we now in the Indian army than the Belooch
regiments, composed of the descendants of those men who fought us so
gallantly at Meanee.
But the fighting of the year 1843 was not finished. The usual domestic
disturbances as regards the succession, nearly as periodic in native
states in those days as “the rains,” broke out in the Mahratta State of
Gwalior. Of course, again we were “pledged” to somebody or something,
and marched an army there to carry out our “pledge.” It is somewhat
curious that, in thus assisting others, we always managed to get
something, usually the whole thing, out of it! Sir Hugh Gough was
despatched to pull this particular chestnut out of the Indian fire, and
he carried out his instructions with the customary completeness.
One opponent, “the usurper” of course, took up a position at
Maharajpore with 18,000 men, 3000 of which were cavalry, and 100 guns.
Against him Gough employed an army, in the glories of which shared the
3rd, 39th, 40th, and 50th Regiments of the line, with sundry regiments
of Sepoys, in all 14,000 men, with 40 guns. The 39th and 40th stormed
the entrenchments with the bayonet and took the guns also. Crosses were
made of their gun-metal afterwards, and were issued to the troops
engaged, in commemoration of this act of daring. The cost had been 7
officers killed and a total loss of about 800 men. On the same day,
General Grey similarly defeated 1200 Mahrattas at Punniar, a battle in
which the 3rd and 50th took part, and bear these names, therefore, on
the colours.
This terminated the war. For a brief space there was peace; but not for
very long. The endless repetition of the same causes that brought about
hostilities in the past history of British India is almost monotonous.
We were next to deal with the Sikhs in the Punjaub. Rungeet Singh,
by way of being on friendly terms with his dangerous neighbour, died
in 1839. Naturally, domestic disturbances followed, and in 1844
there was a child and a regency. There often was before these wars
of ours. Sir Henry Hardinge had meanwhile become Governor-General,
and with far-seeing wisdom introduced the railway, and promoted many
measures which both lessened the friction between the military and
civil departments of his rule, as well as introducing others which
ameliorated the condition of the native as well as of the European
soldier. He might have made his reign distinguished only by such useful
and peaceful measures, but in this case, the Sikhs took the offensive
and forced his hand. The child, Dhuleep Singh, the nominal head of the
Punjaub, was too young to reckon as an active factor in the coming, or
rather existing, complications at Lahore. His ambitious ministers or
chieftains saw this, and thought the time had come for a war of rapine.
This is what Hardinge had to face soon after he assumed the reins of
command.
The Sutlej separated the two States and the two armies, and the
Governor-General was reluctant to believe that the Sikhs would take
the offensive. But they did, and crossed the river in December 1845
with 60,000 men, and so invaded British territory. To this there could
be but one reply. Sir Hugh Gough, the Commander-in-Chief, hurried to
the front, and with him went Sir Henry Hardinge, who was the political
chief, but, by seniority, his military subordinate.
The opponents first met at Moodkee, on the 18th December 1845. Gough’s
force had marched twenty-two miles. Be it remembered, again, that
this was not when uniform was comfortable, and kit was carried, and
ammunition and weapons were both light. Such a march nowadays would
call for letters in the _Times_. Then it was different. The story of
the army in the past is widely different from that of the army in the
present, as far as marching, and in heavy marching order, is concerned.
The loss in the campaigns before 1870, too, was excessive; but nobody
dreamed of talking big about it. Now, a very small percentage of men
hit is magnified, and all the papers talk of it.
When this long march was finished, and the alarm sounded, the dinner
preparations were dropped, and the men of that time went to fight
before feeding. And bloody was the contest. There were on the British
side twelve battalions and some batteries. The Sikhs were so strong
that to all intents and purposes the British army formed but one line
to meet them. The infantry met them in front; the 3rd Light Dragoons,
with the Second Brigade of cavalry, turned their left and swept along
their line, while the rest of the cavalry threatened the right. Night
only saved the Sikhs from actual disaster, and when the firing ceased,
they fell back with a loss of 17 guns. On the attacking side 3850
Europeans and 8500 native troops, with 42 guns, had lost 84 officers
and 800 men, and among the dead was Sir Robert Sale of Jellalabad. It
was midnight when Gough returned to Moodkee camp, and the Sikhs to
Ferozeshah, where they entrenched with 120 guns. This was the first
phase of a long-continued struggle.
On the 19th, reinforcements reached the general, in the shape of more
heavy guns, the 29th, the 1st European Light Infantry, and some Sepoys.
Sir H. Hardinge then, waiving his official rank, elected to serve as
second in command to the commander-in-chief.
Sir John Littler pushed up from Ferozepore and joined the army.
The total force was even now but 5674 Europeans and 12,053 native
troops, with 65 guns, against 25,000 regulars, 10,000 irregular troops,
and 83 guns. Then began a more desperate fight than Moodkee, the battle
of Ferozeshah. It was to be a two days’ battle, and even lasted into
the intervening night. There were but two lines, the second being
formed of the small reserve under Sir Henry Smith and the cavalry. The
artillery opened fire and closed up to within 300 yards of the enemy’s
guns, and then the infantry charged and took them. Even then the Sikhs
did not fall back. The troops formed up 150 yards from the enemy’s
camp, and lay down in “contiguous quarter distance columns,” while the
reserve at 10 p.m. occupied the village in front. The 62nd had suffered
so severely that 17 officers out of 23 had been killed and wounded. The
3rd Dragoons charged in the dark and broke up the hostile camp, and
lost 10 officers and 120 men out of 400 in doing so; while during the
night the Sikh artillery opened fire, and the 80th charged and stopped
it, and spiked three guns. Well might the general say “Plucky dogs,
plucky dogs--we cannot fail to win with such men as these!” A more
wonderful battle never was. Here, within 150 yards of one another, were
8000 British troops against an unknown number of enemies yet unbroken.
All the Governor-General’s staff had been killed or wounded, but he
wrote cheerfully to his family and described how “I bivouacked with
the men, without food or covering, and our nights are bitter cold, a
burning camp in our front, our brave fellows lying down under a heavy
cannonade, mixed with the wild cries of the Sikhs, our British hurrah!
the tramp of men, and the groans of the dying.” But hearts quailed not,
and the wearied soldiers slept peacefully beside their arms and “wished
for day.” They deployed at daylight for the third, last, and crowning
incident.
And so the 20th December dawned. It sounds like the days of so-called
chivalry to read that, at that close range, the Commander-in-Chief and
the Governor-General of India placed themselves in front of the two
wings of the line, “to prevent the troops from firing” until they
closed! The left was attacked and turned; the enemy half, or more than
half, beaten, fled, and left 74 guns behind him; but meanwhile there
arrived to him a strong reinforcement under Tej Sing. He was threatened
by the already exhausted cavalry, and refused close battle. So the
field rested with the British, and on it lay 2415 men and 115 officers.
Of the survivors many had been without food or water for forty-eight
hours. These were the men who made the Empire; regiments like the 3rd
Light Dragoons, the 50th, 62nd, 29th, and 53rd made the history of
which their descendants reap the benefit.
The sympathy of Hardinge for his men is touching. He visited the
wounded and cheered them. To a man who had lost an arm he pointed
sympathetically to his own empty sleeve, and reminded him of Quatre
Bras; to him who had lost a leg he told the story of how his own son
had fought in that wondrous battle, and had done so without the foot he
had lost in former fight. But all archæologists will recognise in him a
confrère as the man who repaired and prevented from falling into decay
the Taj Mahal at Agra.
No one can read the story of the Sikh War without a feeling of pride
for the men who did their duty so patiently, so bravely, and under such
distresses. But they had still much to do with one of the bravest and
most stubborn foes the British have ever had to face in Hindostan. For
in January 1846 the Sikh Sirdars threatened Loodianah, and effected a
passage of the Sutlej near that place, as well as at a point near where
they had recrossed the river after their defeat at Ferozeshah. This
latter passage, near Sobraon, formed by a bridge of boats, they had
further covered by a well-constructed _tête du pont_.
Sir Harry Smith, a Peninsular veteran whose medal ribbon bore twelve
clasps, marched to arrest the danger that threatened Loodianah, and
thus eventually brought on the battle of Aliwal, as the Sobraon
position brought on the battle that bears that name. In both the
British were victorious, though with heavy loss.
The battle formation at Aliwal was typical, and is therefore worth
recording. The front was covered by the cavalry in “contiguous columns
of squadrons,” with two battalions of horse artillery between the
Brigades. The infantry followed in “contiguous columns of brigades at
deploying intervals,” with artillery in the spaces between brigades,
and two eight-inch howitzers in rear. The right flank, as far as a wet
nullah some distance off, was covered by the 4th Irregular Cavalry.
There seems, therefore, to have been but one line, and this was fully
capable of manœuvring. From the above line of columns it formed line
with bayonets fixed and colours flying, the artillery forming three
groups, one on either flank, the other in the centre. When the Sikhs
threatened to turn the right of this line, it “broke into columns to
take ground to the right and reform line with the precision of the most
correct field-day,”[60] and for a second time advanced.
The whole force was but 10,000 men against nearly 20,000 of the enemy,
with 68 guns, but the position was gloriously carried, and the 16th
Lancers and the 31st, 50th, and 53rd Regiments greatly distinguished
themselves, the Lancers losing 100 men and 8 officers, while the total
“bill” was 589 men; but the victory was most complete, and all the
enemy’s stores were captured.
A short delay occurred before the next battle, that of Sobraon, as Sir
Hugh Gough awaited his reinforcement by Sir Harry Smith, while Sir
Charles Napier was assembling a third, or reserve army at Sukkur. But
the brave Sikhs were still confident. The Sobraon entrenchments were
strong, with a frontage of 3500 yards, and held 34,000 men and 70 guns
on the left bank of the Sutlej, and on the other were some 20,000 more.
Sir Hugh did not hesitate, and advanced with 6533 Europeans and
9691 native troops, among which were the 10th, 29th, 53rd, and 88th
Regiments of the line, and the 3rd Dragoons. The ford of Hurrekee on
the left was watched by the 16th, and the division formed in three
lines, with a brigade in each, and marched against the works at 3 a.m.
on the 10th February, opening fire with a powerful force of artillery
as soon as the morning mists rose. When the fire told, the assault
was delivered, and with complete success. The European regiments had
advanced without firing a shot until they had penetrated the works, “a
forbearance much to be commended and most worthy of constant imitation,
to which may be attributed the success of their first effort and the
small loss they sustained,” and after two hours’ fighting the _tête
du pont_ was won, and the Sikhs, in recrossing the bridge of boats,
suffered terrible loss from the fire of our Horse Artillery. But the
victory had cost us dear. The 29th had lost 13 officers and 135 men;
the 31st, 7 officers and 147 men; the 50th, 12 officers and 227 men;
and the 10th, 3 officers and 130 men: while Sir Robert Dick, General
Cyril Taylor, and General M’Laren among the leaders were also among the
slain. On the other hand, the Sikhs had lost 14,000 men.
Sobraon was “the Waterloo of the Sikhs.” Their aims on our Indian
possessions were completely frustrated. But the field army was too weak
to do more than it had done, and though some of the enemy’s territory
was “occupied,” the reins of government were still permitted to remain
nominally in the youthful hands of Dhuleep Singh, until the time came
for the annexation of the whole district of the Punjaub.
The final opportunity came three years later, in 1849, when the Marquis
of Dalhousie was Governor-General.
Intestine troubles, in due course and as usual, arose in Mooltan. There
was the customary doubt as to the loyalty of some of the Sirdars of
Mooltan. The European assistant resident and some others were murdered
at Lahore; a sufficient cause for further war. Some insignificant
skirmishes preceded the final and more important collisions. Mooltan
was besieged by a force under General Whish, an operation shared
in by the 10th and 32nd European Regiments, but the siege had to
be abandoned. Lord Gough had meanwhile been assembling an army at
Ferozepore, and the enemy were first seriously met at Ramnuggur, and
fell back beaten; and then the siege of Mooltan was renewed. The heavy
guns were soon brought up to within eighty yards of the walls, and the
enemy’s principal magazine was blown up; but this did not affect the
courage of the Moulraj, the defending Sikh general; and on the receipt
of the letter demanding his surrender, “he coolly rammed it down his
longest gun,” and sent the reply back to us thus.[61] But his bravery
availed nothing, and the place fell. On the other hand, Attock, held by
an English garrison, was retaken.
The next battle was not judicious. Gough’s duty was to cover the siege
of Mooltan, then proceeding, and when that fell, to advance offensively
with all the force he could muster. As it was, weak in numbers and
with a river between them and the enemy, he, on the 12th January 1849,
reached the battlefield of Chillianwallah about dusk, with an army
wearied by a long march. He did not even seriously reconnoitre the ford
ways of the Chenab, but none the less despatched Thackwell with 8000
men, three horse and two field batteries, two eighteen-pounders, and
the 24th and 61st Regiments, to cross the Ranekan ford, but finding it
too difficult, he moved to that at Vizierabad by 6 p.m. Then he crossed
by boats, but some regiments bivouacked on a sandbank in mid-stream,
and all were wet, cold, and without food. Gough, meanwhile, was on the
opposite bank, some miles away, near Ramnuggur, with a difficult ford
in front of him, vigilantly watched by the Sikhs. But their leader
saw the opportunity and seized it; he left a weak force to watch that
ford, and marched against Thackwell. He hoped to beat the British in
detail, and might have done so but for want of energy. He met them at
Sadulapore, where an artillery skirmish followed, and finally Gough
joined him, and at two o’clock halted before the enemy’s position at
Chillianwallah, when the enemy’s advanced guns fired on him, and the
attack was ordered. On the right was Gilbert’s Division, in which were
the 29th and 30th, covered on the right by Pope’s Brigade with the
9th Lancers and 14th Light Dragoons. On the left was Campbell, with
the 24th and 61st, covered by White’s Brigade of cavalry with the 3rd
Dragoons and three horse batteries. Along the whole front was a dense
mass of jungle so high as to conceal even the colours to the top of
the staff. The battle was a scene of wild confusion, in which the
staff direction was impossible. The cavalry on the right broke, and
six guns were taken; five colours were left on the field, one being
that of the 24th, and when the firing ceased, some 89 officers and 2357
men had been lost, and the army fell back, as did, on their side, the
enemy too. The Sikhs had fought with their accustomed fierceness and
bravery: said one officer, “They fought like devils”; but it is curious
that the Sikhs alone did this, and, judging from another account,
their opponents “fought like heroes!” The 3rd, 9th, and 14th cavalry
regiments behaved well, as did the 10th, 29th, and 32nd Foot, with
the native Indian regiments, but into the “Story of the Army” that
of the army of the East India Company does not enter. It was another
instance of where “the dauntless valour of the infantry rectifies the
errors of its commanders, and carries them through what would otherwise
be inevitable defeat and disgrace. But it redeems their errors with
its blood; and seldom has there been more devotion, but, alas! more
carnage, than on the hard-fought field of Chillianwallah, a field
fairly won, though bravely contested by the Sikhs of all arms.”[62]
The loss of the latter, some 4000, with 49 of their guns spiked, had
been heavy too, and they had fought with all the bravery of, and in a
manner somewhat similar to, the Highlanders who drew sword and fought
for the “Pretender” when the “embers of the Civil War” died out. In the
hand-to-hand fighting, they had caught the bayonet with the left hand,
to cut at its holder with the right with the sword. They had received
lance-thrusts on their shields, to return the attack when the lance was
thrown aside or broken; they had laid themselves down when the cavalry
charged, to rise when the horsemen passed, and attack them shield
and sword in hand. Between the fighting of the Scots in 1745 and that
of the Sikhs in 1849 there was no real difference as far as pluck and
courage went. But the spirit of our gallant and stubborn adversaries
was not broken yet. Mooltan fell. They met us again at Gujerat, but the
previous encounters had created in them a feeling of despair. Hitherto
the Sikhs had been the attacking side when the battle was being formed.
Now it was otherwise. They fought on the defensive and were badly
beaten; the 9th, 3rd, and 14th British cavalry Regiments, and the 10th,
29th, 60th, and 61st line Regiments shared in the last fight against
the Sikhs, as did the European Regiments of the Bombay and Bengal
armies. Though said to be 34,000 men strong, with an Afghan detachment
of 1500 men and 59 guns, the Sikhs’ army, as such, ceased to be, and
its guns, camp equipage, and baggage became the spoil of the victors.
“God has given you the victory,” was the despairing cry of many a dying
Sikh.
The loss on the British side was small, 29 officers and 671 men; and
the final result was the unconditional surrender of the enemy, and the
annexation of the Punjaub to the Indian Empire of Great Britain.
Throughout, Gough had pressed his infantry into the fight before the
artillery had sufficiently “prepared” the position. He was so excitable
under fire, that the story is told that his staff, knowing his “passion
for employing infantry before the guns had done their work, induced
the gallant veteran to mount by means of a ladder--the only means of
access--to the top storey of an isolated building which commanded a
complete view of the battlefield. They then quietly removed the ladder,
and only replaced it when the artillery had done its work.”[63]
Nothing of grave military importance occurred in India after the defeat
of the Sikhs and the annexation of the Punjaub in 1849, for some years.
But shortly after the close of the Crimean campaign occurred a petty
war with Persia, which had inclinations towards a Russian friendship,
if not an alliance. A rebellion had broken out in Herat, and the
Persians laid siege to it; whereupon Dost Mahomed, who had become
Ameer of Afghanistan on the deposition of our own nominee Shah Sujah,
moved from Cabul to Candahar. Troubles had occurred with the Heratees
in 1837, when Persia was persuaded by Russia to make a very imaginary
claim to the possession of Afghanistan, and had, also with Russian
aid, besieged Herat; but the Governor-General of India despatched
Pottinger, a young officer of artillery, to aid in the defence, which
was successful. Russian influence here, and its supposed influence with
Dost Mahomed at Cabul, were among the causes which, as already pointed
out, brought on the first Afghan war.
In 1853 there had been a convention between the British minister and
the Shah as regards Herat, and this Persian siege was contrary to its
provisions. General Outram was despatched in command of an expedition
which contained two regiments of the British army in its composition,
the 64th and 78th; but the bulk of the force was necessarily made up of
native Indian troops of the Bombay army. Landing near Bushire, there
was an “affair” at Reshire on the 9th December 1856, and another at
Bushire the next day, where the entrenched Persians were defeated by a
brilliant bayonet charge. At Kooshab, in February 1857, the 3rd Bombay
Cavalry broke a Persian square; while at Barajzoom, Mohummerah, and
Ahwaz were other minor engagements, which speedily led to peace.
The names of Persia, Reshire, Kooshab, and Bushire are borne on the
colours of the 64th; and Persia, Kooshab, on those of the 78th for
their conduct in these somewhat uninteresting operations.
Now began to arise an ominous war-cloud, which for a time threatened
to burst with such violence as to sweep away altogether the British
rule in India. It might have been foreseen had people cared to take
the trouble. The attributed and immediate cause of rebellion was no
new thing. There had been a precedent already as far back as 1806, in
the history of the 69th Regiment of the line, two companies of which
were garrisoned at Vellore, with a battalion of Sepoys. Sir John
Craddock, who commanded in Madras, had, with the best intentions,
introduced a lighter headdress than the turban, but which had some
leather fittings to it which the natives assumed were “unclean”; while
a new “turn-screw” had a cross-top, which again might have been assumed
by ill-affected persons to represent the emblem of Christianity. There
were always, then as now, men who looked on a rebellion as a means of
getting plunder and advancement, and many of the adherents of Tippoo
Sahib were still living, and by no means loath to stir up discord.
In this case they succeeded, though fortunately the incipient mutiny
spread no farther than Vellore. But there the Sepoys attacked the
European cantonment, and shot or bayoneted 113 men. The remainder
made a desperate resistance, being even reduced to firing rupees for
bullets, and one escaped and reached Arcot, where was stationed the
19th Light Dragoons. The distance to Vellore was soon covered, and
ample vengeance taken. Of the mutineers, 500 were made prisoners, and
350 were slain. Similarly, in 1824, the Sepoys at Barrackpore refused
to embark for Burma, lest they should lose caste, but the mutiny was
crushed. Again, in 1844, there had been disturbances at Ferozepore, and
again in 1849 to 1850.
Notwithstanding these premonitory warnings, a false feeling of security
had long been growing up. As far back as 1832, a committee, examining
the condition of the native army, had been told that “The Indian army
when well commanded is indomitable; it is capable of subjugating all
the countries between the Black and Yellow Seas. The European officers
are all English, Irish, or Scotch gentlemen, whose honour and courage
have created in their troops such an intrepid spirit as to render India
secure against every evil from which an army can protect a country.”[64]
There was over-confidence and want of real discipline; for the Native
and European troops who had fought side by side and conquered the
varied races of the Peninsula, and between whom there had once been
sympathy, had drifted apart. In the past they had forgotten caste,
and in campaigns had lived as brother soldiers. The increase in the
European establishment of officers to native regiments had introduced
many with whom the native was not in touch. The whole essence of our
previous leadership was that the men respected their officers because
they knew them, or knew the tradition of their military past. But new
men meant new manners. The Sepoy’s past connection with his officer
had been personal, and based on warlike experience and respect for his
leader as a fighting man. “Piping times of peace” again had made the
officer no longer a fighting unit, but a pay agent. This matters little
in the West, but in the East it is far otherwise. The Asiatic reveres
personal courage, and believes in little else. Sir Samford Whittingham,
no mean judge, as far back as 1824 had seen the coming danger, and
writes: “The longer I stay in India, the more I am convinced of the
correct truth of all my former statements to you. The country hangs
upon a thread. The slightest reverse would set the whole in a flame,
and you have not the smallest hold upon any class of men in all your
vast Indian dominions except that which is immediately derived from the
opinion--or rather the conviction--that your bayonets and sabres are
superior to theirs. The Indian army must become, and that speedily, a
king’s army, the number of officers must be greatly increased, and the
broken spirit of both officers and men regenerated.”
He at least saw that the country won by the sword must be held by it;
that the Sepoy only respected us so long as we were militarily strong.
Generals and officials without number felt and said the same. The
abolition of flogging in the native army, while retained with the white
troops, only added to the increasing want of respect of the former for
the British soldier. There is nothing worse than virtue gone mad! There
is no greater vice with barbaric and ignorant people. But the Company
sat still, and, civilian-like, were content so long as the outer part
of the sepulchre remained whitened! The very efforts at introducing
the principles of Western civilisation in too abrupt a manner had
raised, long since, concealed antagonism. Immensely conservative as
all the East is, such changes should be made more than gradually. The
hostility of the people had been excited by measures, well meant, no
doubt, but which were antagonistic to their cherished beliefs, their
old-world and long-continued customs. That of the chiefs had been
aroused by our continued deposition or supersession of kings, rajahs,
and chieftains, who, with all their faults, were natives and not
aliens. The Mahomedans felt these changes most, but the Hindus were by
no means apathetic.
The very quietude of the nations under our rule is misleading, and
misleads those who now think that all the varied peoples and sects
of India love us, love one another, and are of the same race and
feeling. The natives of India are as different as those between John o’
Groat’s House and the South of Spain, only more so. Even Wellington,
whose experience of India was not vast, writes: “The natives are much
misrepresented. They are the most mischievous, deceitful race of
people I have ever seen or heard of. I have not yet met with a Hindu
who had one good quality, even for the state of society in his own
country, and the Mussulmans are worse than they are. Their meekness
and mildness do not exist. It is true that the feats which have been
performed by Europeans have made them objects of fear, but whenever the
disproportion of numbers is greater than usual, they uniformly destroy
them, if they can, and in their dealings and conduct among themselves
they are the most atrociously cruel people I ever heard of.”
The real cause of the Mutiny was hatred to the institutions we had
introduced, and growing contempt for our power; to which may be added,
if not as a cause, as a nominal standard round which the malcontents
assembled, the practical deposition of the Kings of Oudh and Delhi.
Military weakness or indifference, and political impotence, are with
Eastern peoples synonymous terms. The ostensible reason for the
outbreak was a cartridge, and this, though actually bees-waxed, was
said, by those who were fomenting the outbreak, to be lubricated with
cow and pig fat, which would make it abhorrent to the touch of either
Hindu or Mahomedan. There is little doubt that in the first pattern
there _was_ cow fat, as Captain Boxer seems to have admitted; and in
order to lessen the evil, the next pattern was made so that the end
might be torn off rather than bitten off. But the error was made, and
to remedy it was too late. Disaffection first appeared at Berhampore,
and the disbanding of the 19th Native Infantry followed; and next, the
34th Native Infantry at Barrackpore behaved mutinously, and was also
disbanded. Both measures tended rather to spread the disaffection than
stamp it out. In the last case blood was shed, two officers being badly
wounded, the culprit being a certain “Mangul Pandy,” whose second name
became the nickname of the Indian Sepoy, as “Tommy Atkins” was that of
his European comrade.
Next the 7th Native Infantry showed the same insubordinate spirit, but
they were easily cowed; and finally a more determined outbreak occurred
at Oude and Meerut, the officers being massacred, and the two native
regiments concerned marched to and occupied Delhi, which now became
the focus of the Mutiny. The time had been well chosen: the white
troops were much disseminated, and the hot weather was coming on; the
proportion of European officers in the native regiments was small, the
Company officers being always natives, and having little real authority
over their men. There was, moreover, a tradition that a hundred years
after Plassy the English power in India would be broken.
Hence Delhi fell into the hands of the rebels, and became the scene of
the most revolting barbarities, too foul to tell. Whatever even remote
idea of striking for freedom the leader may have held, is lost in the
awful savagery that accompanied the rising. But vengeance complete and
ample was preparing. Risings occurred everywhere--at Ferozepore, at
Meean Meer, at Murdaun, and so on; but in many cases prompt measures
were taken to disarm the men, who, when disarmed, fled to increase the
hostile force at Delhi.
The European troops seemed but oases in the vast desert of ruin.
The 32nd held Lucknow; the 60th and Carabiniers Meerut; the 61st at
Ferozepore; at Meean Meer the 81st; the 75th were at Umballah; the 9th
Lancers and the Bengal Fusiliers elsewhere. Here and there were native
regiments who were actively loyal and helpful, others were apathetic or
openly hostile.
From Burmah was recalled the 84th, from Ceylon the 37th, from Madras
the Madras Fusiliers (102nd). The 64th and 78th returned from Persia
just in time, and covered 126 miles in eight days. Sir Colin Campbell
arrived from England to take the chief command of the operations, while
regiments were hurried out from home, and the troops destined for China
were detained on the way.
No campaign or war is more difficult to describe briefly or follow than
that of the great Mutiny. It lasted for twelve months. It was fought
by mere detachments of Europeans, isolated from each other. When one
was victorious it joined another, and the two combined made at once
for the point of nearest danger, or where their aid was most required.
No connected plan was at first possible. The very insurrection itself
spread irregularly and spasmodically. It could not be said for long
that a general rising took place. The rebels had no real head, but
acted independently under isolated leaders. It was a war in which the
skill and personal courage of the European was to be measured against
the courage, great in many instances, but less determined than that of
their foes, of the native troops.
If there were real grievances in India as regards our rule, it must
have been common in all the Presidencies. But in Madras there was
only unrest, never real danger. In Bombay, save in one case, at
Kolapore, the same conditions obtained; but the whole region of the
Ganges between Lower Bengal and the Punjaub was the scene of general
revolt, general massacre in most instances of the European troops.
There were more than forty military stations where revolt occurred.
In many of them the European army speedily regained the ascendancy.
But three centres stand out among the dreadful details of the dismal
story--Cawnpore, Lucknow, and Delhi; and the last was, as far as there
was a centre at all, the focus of the whole Mutiny. The insurrection
was without plan, and was a complete surprise. Had it been otherwise,
had the mutineers made common cause, had less delay been given to the
British to concentrate their strength in India, from other neighbouring
colonies and from home, the end might have been more distant, the
struggle more prolonged, but the final result would have been none the
less assured.
Fortunately, the great semi-independent states remained either
quiescent, or offered active help; on the other hand, the method first
adopted of disbanding the mutinous regiments, and therefore instigating
them in one sense to reinforce the Delhi centre, where arms were
numerous, only strengthened the insurrection. Stronger men in the
beginning, like Napoleon’s “whiff of grape shot,” might have nipped the
whole thing in the bud. If the few mutineers had been shot down first,
and then told, as far as the rest went, to lay down their arms, “the
beginning of wisdom” might have grown somewhat more rapidly into the
souls of those who, influenced by example, hysteria, religious mania,
and drugs, also began to think of revolt. Nothing is more catching than
such epidemics. When, at one time, sundry British soldiers thought it
would be an out-of-the-common act to shoot their officers on parade,
the stupid, wicked idea spread, until the authorities were wise enough
to put the hysteria down by the summary method of speedy trial and
death.
Of the three most important places, that of Cawnpore is of chief
interest, from its sentimental side. The fugitive survivors of the
rising at Futtyghur fled down the Ganges as far as Cawnpore, where
they were confined in the Assembly Rooms, by the order of Nana Sahib
of Bithoor, who commanded the rebels there. The garrison of Cawnpore,
at no time strong in Europeans, had been denuded of some of the white
troops to reinforce Lucknow. There were but 150 European soldiers all
told, including detachments of the 32nd, 84th, and Madras Fusiliers,
when the storm burst. A rude entrenchment had been formed round the
hospital barracks and the soldiers’ church, and was defended by eight
guns. Opposed to this handful were at least three revolted battalions,
besides all the ruffians of the city, supported by a number of
24-pounders. In such a case the end could not be long coming, though it
delayed for twenty-two days.
Though the greatest bravery was shown, such as when Captain John Moore
of the 32nd, though severely wounded, made a sortie with twenty-five
men, and spiked some of the enemy’s guns, the buildings were soon so
riddled with shot as to afford little protection, and a portion of the
hospital had been fired by shells and burnt. So the capitulation was
made, on the solemn oath of Nana Sahib, that no life should be taken.
Needless to say, that promise was not kept. On reaching the river
bank, the massacre began, and culminated in the shooting or bayoneting
of the whole of the white men, and the temporary confinement of the
surviving women and children with their unfortunate fellow-sufferers
from Futtyghur in the Assembly Rooms at Cawnpore. Here they were all
massacred.
The army of relief was approaching, but it was too late to arrest
the awful conclusion to the defence of Cawnpore. Havelock advanced
from Allahabad with but 1300 men, including the 64th, 78th, and 1st
Madras Fusiliers, and after four severe skirmishes at Futtehpore and
elsewhere, during which the 64th and 78th carried a battery of guns,
and “went on with sloped arms like a wall till within a hundred yards
and not a shot was fired,” while, “At the word ‘Charge!’ they broke
like a pack of eager hounds, and the village was taken in an instant.”
When the column had reached Cawnpore, it had marched 126 miles in eight
days and captured 24 guns!
Ample vengeance was taken for the massacre. The sight alone of the
room where it had taken place inflamed the men beyond expression.
Old soldiers wept, others divided locks of the hair of their murdered
countrywomen and vowed revenge. There was little quarter given by
Havelock’s column from that time forward.
General Neill was left in charge of the station, and ruled with an
iron and a merciless hand.[65] His orders were: “Whenever a rebel is
caught, he is to be instantly tried, and unless he can prove a defence,
he is to be sentenced to be hanged at once; but the chief rebels or
ringleaders I make first clean up a certain portion of the pool of
blood, still two inches deep, in the street where the fearful murder
and mutilation of women took place. To touch blood is most abhorrent to
the high-caste natives; they think by doing so they doom their souls
to perdition. Let them think so! My object is to inflict a fearful
punishment for a revolting, cowardly, and barbarous deed, and to strike
_terror_ into these rebels. The first caught was a subadar, or native
officer, a high-caste Brahmin, who tried to resist my order to clean up
the very blood he had helped to shed. But I made the provost-marshal
do his duty, and a few lashes soon made the miscreant accomplish his
task. When done, he was taken out and immediately hanged, and buried in
a ditch at the roadside. No one who has witnessed the scenes of murder,
mutilation, and massacre can even listen to the word ‘mercy’ as applied
to these fiends.”
Havelock, meanwhile, was “pacifying” the neighbourhood with his handful
of men. He destroyed Nana’s palace at Bithoor, he beat the rebels
at Oonao, at Busserut Gunge, and Zaithpore, he attempted to relieve
Lucknow; and though there was some desperate fighting, in which the
British were locally successful, his force was too weak to reach the
besieged, and he fell back, still fighting, to Cawnpore, reduced to but
800 men. He moved out again four days later, 1300 strong, to defeat
the enemy at Bithoor again and return. But reinforcements were long
in coming, for at Dinapore the regiments had mutinied and impeded
communication with the south. Outram from Persia then assembled at
Allahabad a column of 1500 men, including the 5th and 90th, and joined
Havelock at Cawnpore. The most striking and noteworthy thing in all
these operations is the exceeding smallness of the insignificant armies
which were hastily assembled to crush the insurrection.
Cawnpore itself was now safe, and it was around Lucknow, therefore,
that the main interest centred till the suppression of the revolt. It
was the last important point in the war, for Delhi was taken before
Lucknow; and this is how Delhi fell.
There had been, at first, only a native garrison in the cantonments
near the capital of the Great Mogul. There was a contingent of European
residents and a few officers, but no white troops. Practically,
therefore, no resistance could be offered to the rising of the
mutineers and to their brutality and bloodshed. Willoughby, with six
other men, held the insurgents at bay long enough to blow up the great
magazine, and when he fled, not a white was left alive in Delhi.
Wilson, with the 60th and the Carbiniers from Meerut, commanded the
advanced guard, and first engaged the enemy about fifteen miles from
Delhi. The entire relieving force was under General Barnard, and
contained detachments of the 9th Lancers and Carbiniers, and the 60th,
75th, 1st and 2nd Bengal Fusiliers, and some Ghoorkas, besides guns.
Further resistance was experienced outside Delhi, and then Barnard
sat down before the town. He seems to have been too weak for the work
he had to do. Prolonged resistance only increased the morale of the
mutineers, and gave them confidence. It is possible, therefore, that
though the enemy fought throughout with the desperation of despair, an
assault might have been successful, and the moral effect of victory
at this juncture more than valuable. On the other hand, defeat would
have been disastrous, and in Delhi were collected the largest, best
organised, and most complete army the insurgents possessed. So the
attack partook of the nature of a siege, without a complete investment
of the fortress. The enemy were vigorous, and made frequent sorties,
once even making an attack on the rear of the camp by a wide detour.
On this day, the anniversary of Plassy, the fighting lasted for fifteen
hours. The heat was terrific; the men were exhausted by long marches,
little food, and incessant fighting. The generalship was of no high
order. Neither Barnard nor Reid, his second in command, were equal to
the occasion. In June the total force of Europeans numbered but 3000,
with three battalions of Sikhs, Guides, and Ghoorkas, comparatively new
levies.
Throughout all India, even those parts not then affected by the storm,
panic began to spread. Calcutta was in terror, though the 37th and 53rd
were there, and the Sepoys at Barrackpore had been disarmed. Elsewhere
risings were common, sometimes suppressed by the bravery of a few; in
other and more numerous cases, resulting in the death, with or without
torture, of the mass of the European residents.
Thus the siege of Delhi drew to a conclusion, and the illness of the
two leaders left General Wilson in charge of the operation. He was
reinforced by Nicholson with 1000 Europeans and 1500 Sikhs. Small still
as the army was, it was now able to take the offensive, and no more
dashing officer than John Nicholson could have been selected for the
duty. A force, some 7000 men strong, had left Delhi, to threaten the
rear and communications of the army, and against this he moved with
a mixed force, in which were the 9th, 61st, and 1st Fusiliers. The
enemy was dispersed by the gallantry of the European troops who formed
the first line, flanked by horse artillery batteries, and Nicholson
retraced his steps to Delhi. It was the last of the sorties. By this
time the siege train from Ferozepore had arrived, and with it a welcome
reinforcement of a wing of the 8th Foot, a Belooch battalion, and
detachments of the 9th and 60th, besides other native levies. By the
14th September two breaches had been made, and the assault was made in
four columns. Of these, the first, under Jones, was directed on the
Water Bastion, whence they were to move towards the Cashmere Gate, but
he missed his way at first, and hence caused delay, but eventually he
got in and pushed towards the Cabul Gate; the second, under Nicholson
himself, carried the breach near the Cashmere Gate, and its leader
fell mortally wounded near the Lahore Gate; the third, under Reid,
attempted the Lahore Gate, but was repulsed with heavy loss; the 4th,
under Campbell, had the difficult task of carrying the Cashmere Gate,
which was blown in by a party consisting of Lieutenants Home and
Salkeld, Sergeants Smith and Carmichael, and Corporal Burgess of the
Engineers, Bugler Hawthorne of the 52nd, and 24 native sappers, though
with severe loss. Through the gap charged the storming column of the
Oxford Light Infantry, and by night the whole outer fringe of the city,
from the Water Bastion to the Cabul Gate, was in the possession of the
assailants, though the rest of the city was still in rebel hands. But
not for long. The heart of the resistance was broken, and the 21st
September 1857 saw the capture of the puppet king, and the death of his
son and grandson, by the hands of Hodson of “Hodson’s Horse.”
Only Lucknow now remained in hostile hands. The fire was fast dying
out in all parts of the empire, and therefore the operations could be
conducted on a more consistent and deliberate plan. Lucknow had been
in severe straits. Early in June a large force of rebels had assembled
there and laid siege to the Residency, held by Lawrence with the 32nd,
commanded by Inglis, and some 500 loyal natives. The details of that
remarkable defence are such that it would be impossible in a brief
space to enumerate the acts of heroism that accompanied the defence
of Lucknow or the scientific skill with which the defenders, of whom
Napier of Magdala was one, conducted the desperate contest.
At first it was hoped that relief would come in a fortnight, but
eighty-seven weary days passed before the first help came. Then
Havelock attempted it alone, with some 1300 troops, as has been already
pointed out, but though unsuccessful, his advance had relieved the
pressure on the beleaguered garrison, and enabled them by a bold sortie
to reprovision the Residency, where provisions had run short.
His next effort was after Outram had been appointed to the chief
command; but the latter magnanimously refused to take the work off
Havelock’s hands, and offered to accompany him simply as “Chief
Commissioner of Oudh.” The army, 2500 strong, in two brigades, in
which served the 5th, 64th, 84th, and 1st Madras Fusiliers, the 78th
and 90th, starting from Cawnpore, crossed the Ganges by a pontoon
bridge, and so brought about the first real assistance to the garrison
of Lucknow. The march was opposed from the outset. There was severe
fighting at the Alumbagh, “the garden of the Lady Alum, or beauty of
the world,” four miles from the Residency; but the British attack
was irresistible, and five guns were taken. The next stand made was
at the Charbagh, or “Four gardens,” but Outram with the Fusiliers,
5th, 6th, and 84th, carried the line of palisaded guns with a cheer,
and Havelock, with the 78th and 90th, dashed into the town, carrying
everything before them, though every inch of ground was disputed.
Obstacles had been created on all sides, and the houses prepared for
defence and loopholed, were occupied. But the “petticoated devils,” as
the mutineers termed the Highlanders they met in battle for the first
time, drove everything before them until the Residency was reached. It
was only just in time, for the mutineers had driven mines beneath the
defending walls, and soon all would have been over. In the assault some
four hundred men had fallen, and among them the gallant General Neill.
But the “relief” was a reinforcement only. The combined garrison was
too weak to force its way through the still overwhelming masses of the
enemy, with so many non-combatants to guard. So Havelock and Outram
were, like Inglis, besieged in their turn for nearly fifty days.
During this time, Greathed, with the 84th, some of the 9th Lancers, and
the 3rd Bengal Infantry, afterwards the 107th Regiment of the line,
had cleared the country about Alighur and Agra; and Sir Hope Grant had
reached Cawnpore with a column, and moved to Alumbagh, defeating the
rebels at Canouj on the way. Here he was joined by Sir Colin Campbell,
and the final relief of Lucknow was begun with Peel’s Naval Brigade,
a strong force of artillery, and the 9th Lancers, 8th, 53rd, 75th, and
93rd Regiments of the line, which, with other troops, made a total of
about 3500 men, to which were soon added detachments of the 23rd, 82nd,
etc., and others of the 5th, 64th, and 78th.
The route chosen was by way of the Secunderabagh, “Alexander’s garden,”
where the first severe skirmish took place, and here some 2000 of
the enemy perished by the bayonet alone. Small wonder that with the
recent remembrance of “Cawnpore,” no quarter was asked or given. It was
too late for mercy. The fighting continued from building to building
and from garden to garden, till on the 17th, Outram and Havelock met
Sir Colin Campbell, who had begun his soldier’s career far back in
the Peninsular days, when he carried the colours of the 9th Foot at
Corunna, outside the battered walls so long and so gallantly held. The
cost to the relieving force had been 467 officers and men killed and
wounded. Even now it was impossible to remain and continue the contest.
Occupying the Alumbagh with a brigade under Outram, the Lucknow
garrison evacuated the blood-stained ruins of the Residency. There too
Havelock died.
“The retreat was admirably executed, and was a perfect lesson in such
combinations. Each exterior line came gradually retiring through its
supports, till at length nothing remained but the last line of infantry
and guns, with which I remained myself, to crush the enemy, had he
dared to follow up the pickets. The only line of retreat lay through
a long and tortuous lane, and all these precautions were absolutely
necessary to ensure the safety of the force.”
An instance of the fury which characterised the fighting at the
Secunderabagh is admirably told in Forbes Mitchell’s _Reminiscences of
the Great Mutiny_. The hero of the story, around whose private history
there was evidently more romance than usually falls to most men, bore
the name of Quaker Wallace, the final name being fictitious, the first
a nickname; and when the signal for the assault was given, he “went
into the Secunderabagh like one of the furies, plainly seeking death,
but not meeting it, and quoting the 116th Psalm, Scotch version, in
metre, beginning at the first verse--
‘I love the Lord, because my voice
And prayers He did hear.
I, while I live, will call on Him,
Who bow’d me to His ear.’
And thus he plunged into the Secunderabagh, quoting the next verse
at every shot fired from his rifle and at each thrust given by his
bayonet--
‘I’ll of salvation take the cup,
On God’s name will I call:
I’ll pay my vows now to the Lord
Before His people all.’
“It was generally reported in the company that Quaker Wallace,
single-handed, killed twenty men;” but be that as it may, the quaint
religious fervour of this gallant soldier of the 93rd is a quaint
survival of the same stern fanaticism of the Cameronians who fought and
suffered in many a skirmish besides Bothwell Brig.
Cawnpore had in the meantime been again attacked, and thither Sir
Colin, with the rest of the force, including the non-combatants, moved,
reaching their destination on the 28th November. His arrival was
most opportune. The Gwalior contingent had appeared before the town,
and Wyndham, who commanded, had led out against them some 2000 men
of the 64th, 82nd, 88th, and 34th Regiments. But the enemy were too
strong. The rebels, 14,000 strong, with 40 guns, were reinforced by
the relics of Nana Sahib’s army. Forcing back the weak British army,
they held the outskirts of the city, capturing the mess plate of four
regiments, together with the Arroyo des Molinos trophies of the 34th,
and the wearied soldiery, having suffered terrible losses, were in
sore straits. It was then that Campbell, cool and resolute, arrived;
and when on the 1st December reinforcements came from Allahabad, the
end was near. Cawnpore was bombarded for the last time, and the rebels
retreated by the Calpee road, pursued first by Sir Colin Campbell, and
then by Sir Hope Grant, with terrible effect. Guns and stores were
captured, and the broken remains of the Gwalior contingent fled to join
the mutineers who still held Lucknow, but who were watched and checked
by Outram in his strongly defended position at Alumbagh.
Much good work was done elsewhere, to which only brief reference can
be made--by Colonel Seaton about Pattialah, where he was afterwards
reinforced by Sir Colin Campbell, in which the 6th Dragoon Guards took
part; by Colonel Raines in Rajpootana, with the 95th; by Sir Hugh
Rae in Central India, with the 42nd, when Roohea was unsuccessfully
assaulted; and by General Roberts, also in Rajpootana, with the 8th
Hussars and 72nd, 83rd, and 95th line Regiments at the storming of
Kotah: but the Mutiny was practically crushed, and only the Lucknow
force remained as a serious organised body of the enemy to be dealt
with.
While the dying embers of the Mutiny were elsewhere, as already
referred to, being stamped out by daily increasing forces, and with
increasing determination and success, Outram still held at bay the
50,000 men who faced him at Alumbagh. That they did not do more than
they did is proof positive that they knew already that the game was
up, and that the rebellion had collapsed. Outram’s communications with
his chief at Cawnpore were never, as heretofore, seriously endangered.
Brigadier Franks had given one or two outside bands a lesson at Chanda
which was effective, before he joined the army headquarters before
Lucknow.
Sir Colin Campbell had marched from Cawnpore on the 28th February 1858,
and out of his army of 30,000 men nearly 20,000 were Europeans, with
100 guns, and this without Franks’ contingent, and the handy force of
Ghoorkas under Jung Bahadoor. England had played her usual careless
game. Surprised at first, the innate courage of her fighting men had
pulled her through her political and military difficulty. When the
national spirit was aroused, real armies were created, and the end was
certain.
In the final attack on the city, nothing is more curious than to note
the strong feeling of military camaraderie between the Sikhs and the
Highlanders. It is not enough to say that they showed a gallant feeling
of emulation. They fraternised. Both regiments advanced equally,
“stalking on in grim silence,” and without firing, till the bayonet
came into use. The Highlanders stormed a building at the Secunderabagh
by tearing the tiles off the roof, at Sir Colin’s own suggestion, and
dropping into the building that way.
So, stage by stage, Lucknow was taken. The rebels were utterly routed,
and never seriously afterwards did the rebellion raise head again. But
many valuable lives had been lost in doing their duty; and among them
was Major Hodson, who had had the courage, when Delhi was carried,
to kill, with his own hand, the last scions of the Mogul Empire.
Dreadful the deed, but dire the necessity. Whatever may be thought
of him, he lived the life of a gallant soldier, and like one fell.
Victoria Crosses were issued to eight officers for their bravery during
these campaigns, and there were very many others who were equally
deserving. No war, of which there is record, contains such numerous
and continuous instances of self-denying heroism as does the Mutiny.
Never were individual men more placed in the position of doing their
duty and displaying the most magnificent heroism. As far as the “Story
of the Army” goes, it may be recorded that the following regiments
bear war honours on their colours for the good work they did in saving
our Empire in India from utter destruction. “Lucknow” is borne on the
colours and appointments of the 7th Hussars and 9th Lancers, and of the
5th, 8th, 10th, 20th, 23rd, 26th, 32nd, 34th, 38th, 42nd, 53rd, 64th,
75th, 78th, 79th, 82nd, 84th, 90th, 93rd, 97th, 101st, 102nd, and the
Rifle Brigade. “Delhi” is carried by the 6th Dragoon Guards and 9th
Lancers, and by the 8th, 52nd, 60th, 61st, 75th, and 104th Regiments
of the line. The name “Central India” is worn by the 8th Hussars, 12th
Lancers, 14th Hussars, and 17th Lancers, with the 27th, 38th, 71st,
72nd, 86th, 88th, and 95th Regiments.
Lucknow was practically the closing scene of the great struggle. There
were still insurgent bands, no longer armies, to suppress; notorious
rebel leaders to seek for and oftentimes never find; disturbed
districts to settle down; all these things had to be done before peace
passed over the land. Peace that was problematical then, even after
the war of vengeance that was only righteous because of the hideous
cruelties which caused it; peace that must always be superficial and
doubtful. Youths yet unborn, if patriotic Indians, as were many of
their ancestors at this time, however misguided in the course of action
they adopted, may yet turn back to the burning history of the past, and
may rise to avenge past conquest, and what may seem then, as earlier,
present wrong.
The Romans governed England well, and raised it from savagery to
civilisation. They introduced the higher arts of peace, founded our
system of municipal government, created the first lighthouse on an
English coast. But they came as aliens and left as strangers yet.
Within but a few years, all traces of their holding of Magna Britannia
had ceased to be, save in ruined homes, wrecked villas, grass-grown,
unused roads, and abandoned towns. They conquered Britain by the sword
and held it by the sword, so long as their military hand was strong
enough to use and grasp the weapon. When their military power ceased,
other and stronger and possibly less scrupulous nations took the lead
in this our land. So it may be in India yet. Justice may be admired,
but is rarely loved, so long as it is administered by foreign hands.
Herein lies the strength and power and possibly the future hope of
Russia. The Anglo-Saxon colonises and replaces peoples, the Slav
absorbs. He has absorbed Central Asian khanates as we never have Indian
native states; and yet his rule anywhere will not compare in any one
degree with ours as regards justice, development, and care. None of
these things matter when the human _ego_ has to be taken into account.
That personal equation, the man himself, is left out of the question
with the dominant Saxon. The less dominant, because more receptive and
absorbing, Russian, whose blood runs in many a branch of the races
that go to make up India, acts otherwise, and his chance of ultimate
success, when the trouble of the future comes, is greater than that of
the Saxon, who now rules with every good intent in the place of Mogul
emperors and Hindu kings.
The Mutiny was one of those rare wars which were based on pure
political reasons, that is, reasons based on conditions other than
mere military considerations or those of conquest. It was unlike many
of our other struggles, in the past, and recently, which were begun
for reasons of policy. Policy and politics are not synonymous terms,
though they are spelt much the same way. This serious contest grew up
internally, from internal disagreement and disease which might have
been diagnosed. Many of our other campaigns were based on a desire for
conquest, a dread of the possible action of neighbouring powers which
it might be to our interest to forestall, or to that natural expansion
of empire which all colonising nations are subject to; and which means
the subjection or destruction, for purely colonial or commercial
reasons, of the races who stand in the way of what enterprising
colonial empires think their national right. Whether their antagonists
recognise it is “another story.”
One great result of the troubled time through which the nation passed
during 1858 was that it led to a further and considerable increase to
the army. In March of that year second battalions were added to the
twenty-four regiments of the line after the 1st Royals, whose second
battalion, created earlier, had remained in existence, and a fresh
regiment, the 100th, or “Royal Canadians,” was raised in Canada and
added to the _Army List_. The 5th Dragoons were restored as Lancers,
and the 18th Hussars were raised at Leeds; while, when the Indian
army was incorporated with the national forces, the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd
European Bengal Cavalry became the 19th, 20th, and 21st Hussars; and
the European fusilier battalions of the Bengal, Madras, and Bombay
armies were placed on the _Army List_ as the 101st, 102nd, 103rd,
104th, 105th, 106th, 107th, 108th, and 109th Regiments of the line,
dating their seniority from 1861. To this increase, a permanent one,
not one man raised an objection, a marked contrast to the times that
had been. The dread of the standing army was at last as “dead as Queen
Anne.”
The half-civil, half-military instruction of the army aspirant, the
Sandhurst cadet, began to partake more of the latter character than
the former; and was to be changed still more in another decade or
thereabout. The utter failure of the staff in the Crimea had pointed
out, what all foreign nations had already recognised, that a special
training for some, if not all, of the staff officers of the future was
advisable. So the Staff College came into being in 1858, and first
established, more fully than the old “Senior Department” of the Royal
Military College of Sandhurst, the principle that the work of the
staff in the future can only be learned by studying the mistakes and
successes of the past; that the art of war is by no means conjectural,
but that he who knows what has been done can learn from that teaching
how to do it again and do it better. The age of the “heaven-born
soldier,” a rarity even greater than the black swan, was a thing of
the past. To pitchfork unknown or untried men into the most difficult
of all duties, that of working the machinery that makes or mars an
army--its staff work--belonged to an earlier age than now.
But another great movement arose, the end of which no man can foresee,
save that it has saved the nation from the dire evils of conscription.
No really free nation ever has or ever will accept the fetters of
compulsory service unless it feels there is a real reason for it.
Nothing but actual invasion would ever make free Englishmen accept
conscription as a principle, though they accepted in the long war what
was almost worse. The pressgang, compulsory service in its worst, most
one-sided, and most cruel form, was endured, but hated. But when,
however, our late ally, France, irritated by the fact that our free
political institutions did not admit of our handing over to her tender
mercies men who, however ruffianly, had threatened the life of the
Emperor Napoleon on political grounds only, and when the colonels of
her army asked in the intensity of their sycophancy (for, as after
events proved, the third Napoleon had no great hold on the affections
of his people) to be led against “_la perfide Albion_,” the old spirit
rose.
The spirit of individual help towards the national defence had been
clearly shown as that of boyhood when the century was yet in its teens;
in 1853 it had its second stage of youth; and finally in our time was
to grow into first adolescence, and then vigorous manhood.
With all her pride, and its consequent self-sufficiency, with all
her natural self-respect and self-belief, there is no nation really
less military, at the heart of her, than Great Britain. Always a
fighting race, it may be that this is why she is reluctant to fight,
and is therefore always unready. She began the Crimean War with her
usual curious sort of half-reluctant enthusiasm, and with an army of
about the Peninsular type. She finished the war, the only nation then
prepared and anxious to fight on, and, stronger than before, to push
it to a successful termination when her allies were somewhat more than
half-exhausted. But this very reluctance makes her serious when roused.
And the uncalled for insult that she, of all nations in the world, was
open to invasion at the call of French colonels called out all that
curious innate fearlessness of battle which has helped British soldiers
in many a hard-fought field to victory. Never were the English people
more at peace, and more anxious to be. Never did they more willingly
throw that feeling to the winds than when a body of French colonels
insulted the whole English race.
So for a third time the civilian laid aside his mufti and clutched the
uniform and rifle. By the middle of 1859 there were six thousand men
armed and willing to fight. It is not necessary here to enter into
the controversy of the merits or demerits of this force. It began one
way, it has finished another. It began, helped by a fulsome praise
that can only be called hysteric; for the first idea it had was to
reduce or abolish the army for the sake of a force of _not_ soldiers,
but merely men in arms, and which was for a time the laughing-stock
of all Europe! Anything more ludicrous, and from a military point of
view contemptible, than the early days of these willing and patriotic
enthusiasts cannot be imagined. They played at soldiers in the most
absolute way, and though much improved, they are very far from perfect
now.
At first they were designed merely as local corps of varying strength,
and were to have merely a company organisation. A separate manual
even, the “Drill and Rifle Instruction for Corps of Rifle Volunteers,”
was compiled with the specific purpose of minimising the amount of
instructions to be given. This could, it was considered, be imparted
in six lessons, and Sir Charles Napier in his “Letter on the Defence
of England” strongly advises the new soldiery not to “let anyone
persuade you to learn _more_.” Of course all this has long changed, and
now the volunteer undergoes the same training as the soldier or the
militiaman, but without that continuity that alone can make it of first
value. Discipline and drill, if not synonymous terms, run hand in hand.
The former naturally follows on the latter if it be continuous and
sustained.
CHAPTER XVI
THE ARMY IN INDIA: (_c_) THE ARMY OF THE QUEEN-EMPRESS--1858-96
After the great Mutiny, the disturbed districts soon settled down
to their normal calm. Discontent, if still existing, was concealed
with Asiatic astuteness. The justice of our rule was evident, even if
antagonistic to natural prejudices and antipathies. The extension of
railways rendered rapid concentration of troops more possible, and the
great increase in the permanent establishment of European troops soon
impressed the native mind with the futility, for the time at least, of
any further effort to upset the British rule.
The danger to which India was to be exposed for the future was more
external than internal, more political than domestic. The natural
extension of the Empire had brought it into intimate connection with
semi-savage peoples on the one hand, and, what was of more serious
importance, had, through the rapid absorption by Russia of the Central
Asian khanates, brought the frontiers of two mighty Empires within
striking distance. Hence the military history of India since the Mutiny
is composed of small punitive expeditions against the mountain tribes
of the Himmaleyehs and Hindu Koosh, or political campaigns such as that
in Afghanistan.
Many of the former are too unimportant to mention, and reference will
therefore be confined to those for which medals or clasps have been
given, or whose names are borne upon the colours. But all spring from
the same source. It is the contest, as old as the hills themselves,
between the people of the mountains and those of the plain. To the
former, rapine and plunder is a profitable pastime, and war an
agreeable change. Like the Scottish Highlander of the time of “Roderick
Dhu,” who looked on the Saxon or Lowlander as justifiable prey, and
to whom to “spoil the Egyptians” was not merely right, but laudable,
so all hill-tribe peoples feel with regard to the Lowlanders. Their
own land provides little even of bare necessaries, still less of
common luxuries. In many cases their condition necessitates, in their
eyes, raids for slaves or wives; in all they know they will long
enjoy comparative immunity from unpleasant consequences, provided
their hostile acts are not too pronounced. They are aware, as are the
military police and the government of the more peaceful districts,
that to punish minor acts of theft is a costly, though rarely a
dangerous, proceeding. Emboldened by immunity, and forgetful of past
punishment, they grow bolder and bolder, until at length the patience
of the other side is exhausted, and a second or a third punitive
expedition is despatched. Even when, after such a one, superficial
peace is established, the presence of foreign Residents, to see that
that peace is kept, is often a constant source of danger. Some patriot
more zealous or hyper-sensitive to the presence of the foreigner--all
the more if he be a “Feringhi”--than the rest resents this apparent
vassalage, and carries his resentment to its natural end with people
whose fighting instincts are still strong. The early history of all
dominant military nations or clans is the same. When they are fully
subdued, they become as valuable servants and coadjutors in the
principle of keeping order and the peace, as they were before hostile
to both.
Where are there better soldiers than the Highland Scotch? and yet for
generations they were deadly hostile to those with whom they now work
with absolute cordiality. So with the Sikh and Beloochee. They furnish
some of the best and most reliable of the native regiments.
Hence it is that frontier wars in India are, and will be, matters of
common occurrence, until the peoples see the error of their ways, and
learn that resistance and robbery, for it is little else, do not pay.
There is yet another reason why these wars must long continue to be
inevitable. Semi-civilised man with arms in his hand (and all such
tribes rejoice in having arms) are not content with looking at them.
They desire to use them, and therefore do. Doubtless often enough it
is a case of _cherchez la femme_, and it would be strange indeed if in
some cases the male had not been egged on by ambition, or the desire
for something which a raid would give her, by his feminine belongings.
Barbaric woman thinks little of a peace-loving man. She likes the man
none the less, but all the more, because he is strong in battle, and
fearless when danger comes.
Frontier wars, however, are at anyrate a valuable training-school
for our army, and give, in piping times of general peace, the only
practical experience of how often death, and at all times difficulties,
may be met and overcome. The first of these after the Mutiny was
that of Sikkim, a district north of Darjeeling. There had often been
friction before, and the turbulence of some of the tribes led to the
“temporary occupation” of a portion of the Rajah of Sikkim’s territory.
The natural consequences followed. The detachment was after a while
driven out. Of course, too, there was the necessity to punish the
“unjustifiable action,” and there was also the political effect such a
minor reverse might have on the neighbouring populations.
As “Ramrod Joe” wrote long since--
“Wotever ye does hout ’ere, stick hup for your pride o’ race.
Keep your _prestige_. Wot’s that? Why, keep them blacks in place.”
In 1860, therefore, an expedition was prepared under Colonel J. C.
Gawler; and, in all these cases, the physical difficulties were more
serious than the military. Only the 6th European Regiment, with the 3rd
Sikhs, the 73rd Native Infantry, etc., with some 12-pounder howitzers,
took part in these operations.
The country was difficult, consisting of rude mountain tracks, with
dense and impenetrable jungle between. One peculiarity of this jungle
was its being infested with leeches, which “penetrate loosely-woven
cloths, and deprive the wearer of a good deal of blood before he finds
them out. They get far up the noses of horses, goats, etc., and cannot
be removed without subjecting the poor animal to a couple of days
without water, which being afterwards offered to him, the leeches also
want to drink, and may be seized. If allowed to remain, the animal
becomes a mere skeleton.” The order of march, too, was peculiar in
such a terrain. Flanking patrols were impossible, and the column was
therefore protected by small bodies halted in succession, which in due
course joined the rear of the column as fresh bodies in advance took
their place.
The defence was not serious: there was some desultory jungle fighting,
with little loss on either side; there were stockades and stone
breastworks constructed, but not seriously held or for long; there were
huge masses of stone, “booby traps,” so arranged on a bamboo platform
that a few cuts with a knife would release them to roll down the
mountain side, but no loss was effected by them. Finally, the country
was pacified and war ceased; but a second expedition, in which the
Derbyshire Regiment took part, was necessary in 1888, where the same
difficulties were encountered and surmounted, and a small engagement
took place at Gnatong.
The small Umbeylah, or Ambela, campaign, as it spelt in the official
history, was somewhat more serious. There had been fanatical outbreaks
by Hindustanis in the district beyond the territory of the Buner Khels,
lying opposite the Hazara district of the Indus valley, and bordering
on the area ruled by the Akhund of Swat. This personage was a spiritual
as well as a temporal ruler, and combined theological distinction with
political power.
The force was organised in two columns. That in the Hazara district had
the 51st and 93rd Regiments, with the native troops, and was intended
to watch the frontier at first defensively. The other had at first the
71st Highland Light Infantry and the 101st Royal Bengal Fusiliers to
stiffen the Indian regiments, and to these were added later the 79th
and 7th Royal Fusiliers, with the 7th Hussars.
The operations lasted from October to December, and are noteworthy
for the heavy loss in officers and the tenacity with which the enemy,
taking the offensive, conducted the fighting. To begin with, it was a
continuous affair of outposts, for, penetrating into the mountains,
the Buner people refused to let the column pass, and the small army,
under Sir Neville Chamberlain, halted and posted outposts on commanding
points known then as Eagle’s Nest, the Craig, the Water piquet, etc.
The fighting round these was most severe. Taken and retaken frequently,
always with loss, it was impossible to advance until a secure line of
communication had been made, and reinforcements pushed to the front.
The Punjabis fought gallantly, and Lieutenants Pilcher and Fosbery won
the V.C.; but the instances of individual gallantry were most numerous.
So desperate was the continued struggle for the Craig piquet that it
got the name among the men of _Kutlgar_, the place of slaughter. But
eventually the invading force was increased to 9000 men, and then,
with a vigorous offensive, the tribal gathering was dispersed. The
medal issued to the Usafzai Field Force was well earned; 36 British and
31 native officers, and 152 British and 689 native soldiers had been
killed and wounded.
[Illustration: _Private 14^{th} Reg^{t} 1864._]
In such frontier wars, one frequently leads to another. The Bhoteas had
passively, if not actively, sympathised with their neighbours in the
Sikkim campaign, and soon in their turn became troublesome. In 1864,
therefore, an expedition formed in four columns, for which detachments
of the 48th, 80th, and the artillery, together with a large force of
native regiments, were detailed, invaded Bhotan, which is situated on
the north-east frontier, and whose people are more nearly allied to
the Thibetans than to the Hindus. There was but slight opposition to
the left column at Dhalimcote. The fort was bombarded and stormed, but
the enemy, armed with stones, matchlocks, and bows and arrows, did
not await the assault. The fort of Dhumsong and most of the stockaded
positions built to check the advance were abandoned without firing a
shot, and a brief stand was made at Chamoorchee, after which the Deb
Rajah wrote a somewhat remarkable letter to the following effect:--
“If you wish for peace, do not disturb our peasantry; it will be best
for you to go back to your own country without doing any harm to
ours. But if you will take possession of my country, which is small,
without fighting, and attach it to your own kingdom, which is large,
I shall send the divine force of twelve gods, as per margin, who are
very ferocious ghosts. Of this force 7000 stop at Chamoorchee, 5000 at
Durma, 9000 at Buxa, and 102,000 at Dhalim Dooar. You have done great
injury to our country, and should not repeat it.”
The other column on the left of the general line of advance, under
Colonel Watson, none the less took Buxa without the “ghosts” raising
any objection; while one of the right columns reached Dewangiri and
the Darungah Pass after a brief skirmish, and the other marched on
Bishensing without meeting the enemy. The formal annexation of the
country was ordered, and a chain of military posts fixed for the
garrison of the country until its government had become settled. But
the Bhotanese made a second bid for freedom in 1866, and there was some
brisk fighting at Dewangiri, which was for a time practically invested,
as the Darungah Pass was held by the enemy. Water was running short,
and, seeing little hope of reinforcement, Colonel Campbell decided on
retreating by the Libia Pass, and was compelled to abandon his guns on
the march.
Attacks were made afterwards on all the hill posts from Dewangiri to
Chamoorchee, at Bishensing, Buxa, and Tazagong, and it was evident
that the force there was insufficient to quell the now extensive
rising. More artillery, the 55th and 80th Regiments, and three native
battalions, under General Tombs, C.B., V.C., were hurried up. This
was to act on the right, the other troops under Fraser on the left
wing, for the reconquest of the country; and when Balla, Buxa, and
Chamoorchee were taken with but little fighting by Fraser, as well as
the stockades in the Balader Pass, the Darungah Pass, and Dewangiri
(where the enemy made an ineffective stand), the war practically
ceased; though after these active hostilities it was found necessary
to despatch a strong force to check a tendency to further disturbance,
though there was no more fighting.
Nothing of any note occurred until 1872, when the introduction of
tea-planting into Assam led to a considerable immigration of Europeans,
and offered greater temptations to the Lushai hill tribes to make
incursions into the richer districts at the foot of the mountains. As
far back as 1840 these people had been troublesome, and a punitive
expedition had been despatched in 1850; but numerous outrages and
forays had occurred in 1862 and 1869, and the Indian Government at
length decided on the suppression of the annoyance.
The country was to be invaded in two columns: the left, from Cachar,
under Colonel Bouchier, was composed of native troops and Royal
Artillery, and, though opposed, the loss was trifling. The march
towards Lalboora was made by Mynadhur (the last tea plantation in
Assam), Khotel, and Kalhi, where the enemy assembled in such numbers
that it was deemed advisable to fall back to the post at the Tuibuin
river, and, after some fruitless negotiations, hostilities were
continued in a haphazard fashion at Pachin Poiboi and Chelam, but the
small force was so much weakened by the numerous detachments that had
to be left to hold the more important points seized, that on more than
one occasion the main column ran serious risk of being overpowered
by numbers. Fortunately the arms of the adversary were of no great
value, being very old flintlock Tower-pattern smooth-bores, bows
and iron-tipped arrows, spears, and a species of Burmese _dah_. The
bullets were not cast, but beaten into shape. It is to this fact that
the extremely small loss, even when the jungle fighting was at close
quarters, must be attributed. Meanwhile the right column, starting
from Chittagong, had been similarly employed, and finally the whole
force assembled in the final stronghold of Lungvel, and, first hoisting
the British flag there, burned the village and returned to India. The
terms of peace were the payment of a small fine, and the admission of
Government agents in their villages, whose chief mission was to prevent
disturbances, and report if such were likely to occur.
In 1875 and 1877 troubles sprung up nearer the Afghan frontier with
the Jowakis, a branch of the Afreedis, who had persistently raided
the Peshawur Valley, and finally attached a British outpost. To burn
villages and slay defenceless villagers was one thing, to lay violent
hands on a wearer of the Queen’s uniform was far more serious. So the
second battalion of the 9th Regiment accompanied a small expedition
which effected its object with but little loss on either side, and
indeed no resistance worthy the name was offered. But of all these
frontier campaigns, that against the Afghans, 1878 to 1880, was far
more serious and prolonged. It was not a war with a small tribe only,
but with a nation, though even then that nation was built up of many
semi-independent and wholly barbaric bodies, serving under their own
chiefs. In the _casus belli_, history repeated itself exactly. Fear
of Russian influence at Cabul, and the refusal of the Ameer Shere Ali
to dismiss a Russian envoy, led to the declaration of war, this to
the occupation of Cabul, that to the placing of a British Resident
at the capital and his consequent murder, and then another “Army of
Vengeance.” The sequence of events was much as in 1844.
Space fails to tell fully the story of this remarkable contest.
Remarkable not merely for the bravery of the enemy, his extraordinary
power of recuperation after a beating, which had something very British
about it, his strong political patriotism for his mountain home, his
passion for freedom from all alien domination, especially of the hated
“Feringhi”; but also for the enormous difficulties presented by the
frowning defiles of the mountain barrier which separates the basin
of the Indus from the wide, secluded valley which runs from Cabul
to Candahar. The British seem to have been peculiarly obnoxious to
the people, for other reasons than that of faith. The Ameer, when he
proclaimed a _Jehad_ or holy war against us, struck, probably, the
keynote as far as his people were concerned, when he said, “A foreign
nation, without cause or the slightest provocation, has made up its
mind to invade our country and conquer it.”
The first advance was made direct on Cabul by the Khyber Pass. The
small fortress of Ali Musjid was attacked on the 21st November 1878,
by the 51st and 81st European, and the 6th and 45th Native Regiments,
and abandoned by the enemy after some sharp fighting; but many of the
fugitives were stopped by the first battalion of the 17th in their
retreat and taken prisoners. By the end of the year the head of this
column was about Jellalabad. Coupled with this was the penetration of
the Kurram Valley by the second column under General Roberts, which was
composed of the 10th Hussars and 12th Bengal Cavalry, four batteries
of artillery, the second battalion of the 8th, the Duke of Albany’s
Highlanders, and many native regiments, to which were added, later,
another battery of artillery, a squadron of the 9th Lancers, the 67th
and 92nd, and more native cavalry and infantry battalions, raising the
force by November 1878 to about 14,000 men. Advancing up the Kurram
Valley to Fort Azim, which was garrisoned, the Afghan position on
the Peiwar Kotal was attacked frontally by General Cobbe with a wing
of the Gordons and other troops, and turned by the Spin Gawi Kotal
with the 8th, the other wing of the Highlanders, and the 29th Native
Infantry, with the 5th Ghoorkas. Finally, troops pushed on to Ali Kehl,
which was garrisoned. Both these passes were held during the winter,
and the troops, especially detachments, were frequently harassed by
the semi-independent action of the hill tribes, rendering necessary
punitive expeditions, such as those in the Khost Valley against the
Mangals and Wazaris by Roberts’ force; and those against the Lughman
tribes, north of Jellalabad, during which occurred the disaster to a
squadron of the 10th Hussars, which, missing its way in crossing a ford
on the Cabul river, lost forty-five men and one officer by drowning.
Expeditions also on this side against the Khugranis led to fighting at
Futtehabad and at Dehowink with the Afreedis. At the same period Sir
Donald Stewart had occupied Candahar with but little opposition, and
had also seized Khelat-i-Ghilzi and Girishk. There was much outrage,
also in the Pishin and other valleys, both by the turbulent hill tribes
and the dispersed or disbanded soldiery of the Amir.
By May 1879 Yakoub Khan, who had succeeded to the throne on the death
of his father, Shere Ali, had recognised the futility of further
resistance. The Peace of Gandamak was signed, by which the control
of the foreign affairs of Afghanistan was to be vested in the Indian
Government, the Kurram, Pishin, and Sibi Passes were to be attached to
the Indian Empire, the Khyber Pass was also to be under our control,
and a British Resident was to be installed at Cabul. Sir Louis
Cavagnari accordingly proceeded there with a small escort on the 17th
June 1879.
The calm that followed on the conclusion of the first period of the war
was rudely broken. Sir Louis Cavagnari’s sanguine belief in a friendly
Afghanistan was ill founded. But unlike the close of the first period
of the previous war in 1843 to 1844, the massacre of the Resident and
his people, which caused the second “army of vengeance,” took place
while they were in apparently peaceful occupation of the Residency, and
in Cabul, and not when in full retreat on India. There was even less
warning of disaster in 1878 than in 1844.
When the news came there were troops in the Khyber, and Kurram Vallies,
and at Candahar. In the Kurram Valley rapidly assembled the brigades of
Macpherson and Baker, in which served the 72nd, the 67th, and the 92nd
European Regiments, with many gallant Sikh and Ghoorka battalions, well
provided with artillery and a cavalry brigade, in which were the 9th
Lancers. Pushing on at once beyond the Peiwar Kotal, the Shaturgardan
Pass was occupied before the enemy could get there, and garrisoned; and
then the army, pushing on by Ali Kehl, in the Logar Valley, first met
and defeated the insurgent Afghans at Charasia, where twenty guns were
taken with but little loss. Yet another skirmish, and the army reached
Cabul. The 67th was the first to enter, playing the quickstep that had
been played long years before by the unhappy 44th, and the army then
took up cantonments in the fortified district of Sherpur without the
city walls.
Here for many a week they were practically shut in. The Shaturgardan
garrison was isolated until relieved by Gough, and then that line of
communication was abandoned and a fresh one opened by Gandamak and the
Khyber. Throughout the whole of December there was almost continual
fighting. General Roberts, slender as his force was, fully recognised
the overwhelming advantage of the offensive in such a war and with such
a people. Wherever armed bands gathered, there a force was sent. Often
enough it barely carried out its purpose, and only then with heavy
loss, because of the overwhelming numbers and determined bravery of
the enemy. On one occasion the 9th Lancers suffered heavily, and three
guns were temporarily abandoned; and at length the tribal gathering was
too large to face, and, seizing Cabul, the Afghans shut up the small
British army within its defences at Sherpur. But it was not for long.
An attack on the 23rd December was beaten sternly back, and again the
hostile host melted away and left Cabul alone. A few days after, Gough,
with reinforcements, including the 9th Regiment, arrived by way of the
Khyber.
Meanwhile, Sir Donald Stewart had moved up from Candahar, as Nott
did in 1844. Meeting the enemy at Ahmed Kehl with his small force,
which included the 59th and some of the 60th, he was victorious,
though heavily outnumbered, and at one time, because of the desperate
gallantry of the Ghazi charge, in a position of some peril; while,
after entering Ghazni, he had a second “affair” at Urzoo, and then
joined hands with General Ross’s force of Sikhs, Ghoorkas, and the 9th
Foot, which had had another fight at Charasia before communication with
the relieving column was effected.
Sir Donald Stewart now assumed supreme command at Cabul. Abdul Rahman
was recognised as Amir by the Indian Government; and preparations were
made, on the establishment of his authority, to abandon the Afghan
capital and withdraw the army to India.
Meanwhile, General Primrose, with the 66th and 7th Fusiliers and some
native troops, had been left in Candahar. The total garrison numbered
less than 3000 men. But, hearing of the advance of another of the
Afghan pretenders, Ayub Khan, from Herat, a considerable portion of
the garrison, including the 66th, was pushed out to the north, as far
as the Helmund, to check his advance. In this General Burrowes, who
commanded, was unsuccessful. The battle of Maiwand was a terrible
disaster, brought on chiefly, if not entirely, by taking up a fatally
bad position to resist a powerful force furnished with a well-served
artillery.
Here the 66th lost their colours, notwithstanding the desperate bravery
of the remnant that rallied round them. Olivey and Honeywood carried
the colours on that dreadful day, and the latter was heard to cry, as
he held the standard on high, “Men, what shall we do to save this?”
when he fell dead, as did Sergeant-major Cuphage, who next tried to
take it. Colours--the _signa militaria_ still, though not of such
importance as a rallying centre in these days of extended order and
fire fight, as in the days of line formation and the Brown Bess--lost
as these were lost reflect honour, and not discredit, on the history of
a regiment.
Remarking on the use of colours in the past during battle, Sir Charles
Napier writes: “Great is the value of the standard; it is a telegraph
in the centre of the battle to speak the changes of the day to the
wings. Its importance has therefore been immense in all ages, among
all nations, and in all kinds of war. ‘Defend the colours! form upon
the colours!’ is the first cry and the first thought of a soldier,
when any mischance of battle has produced disorder; then do cries,
shouts, firing, blows, and all the combat thicken round the standard;
it contains the symbol of the honour of the band, and the brave press
round its bearer.” So it has ever been since the standard-bearer of
the Tenth Legion threw the honoured insignia of his regiment among
the British-Celtic, or Belgic, militia on the Dover coast, when
Christianity had not yet dawned. The breech-loader has caused the
colours to be omitted in the battle-order paraphernalia of modern
war, and, as gunpowder had, in the past, destroyed some of the glory
and panoply of the mediæval host, so it has lessened some of the
picturesqueness of the line of battle of to-day.
Worn-out colours have one of three endings. First, and naturally, in
the church of the district whose name the regiment bears, because
the consecrated banners find fitting resting-place in consecrated
buildings. Next, with the colonels of the regiments, who may be well
expected to revere the standards of the battalions which have honoured
them by such a gift. And lastly, as the old 50th did when it was made a
royal regiment, and when, in place of the black standard, it received
one of royal blue; then the silk of the old colours was burned with
careful reverence, and the ashes placed in the lid of the regimental
snuff-box, made out of the wood of the staff, on which is also engraven
the names of those who had borne the colours in the storm of battle.
The sentiment that dwells around the regimental colours has been very
well expressed by the late Sir Edward Hamley. Speaking of the colours
of the 43rd, now resting and rusting peacefully in Monmouth church, he
says--
“A moth-eaten rag on a worm-eaten pole,
It does not look likely to stir a man’s soul.
’Tis the deeds that were done ’neath the moth-eaten rag,
When the pole was a staff, and the rag was a flag.
For on many a morn in our grandfathers’ days,
When the bright sun of Portugal broke through the haze,
Disclosing the armies arrayed in their might,
It showed the old flag in the front of the fight.
By rivers, o’er bridges, past vineyards and downs,
Up the valleys where stood, all deserted, the towns,
It followed the French, and when they turned to bay,
It just paused for the fight, then again led the way.
And whenever it chanced that a battle was nigh,
They saw it then hung like a sign in the sky:
And they soon learned to know it--its crimson and white--
O’er the lines of red coats and of bayonets bright.
* * * * *
In the church, where it hangs when the moon gilds the graves
And the aisles and the arches, it swells and it waves;
While, below, a faint sound as of combat is heard
From the ghostly array of the old Forty-Third.”
The feeling here expressed must have been strong with those who tried
to save the colours at Maiwand. More than 1300 men had fallen there
when the relics of the little army returned to Candahar, which was then
invested, and all communication with India cut off by the destruction
of the telegraph.
The nearest force for its relief was that of General Phayre in the
Quettah Pass, where the difficulties of transport and supply were
extreme. The other available army was that under Stewart and Roberts
at Cabul. It was from them assistance was to come; but, while awaiting
relief, a most useless and injudicious sortie was made, which had
no result save the loss of valuable lives and a slight break in the
monotony of the siege of Candahar.
The country in this part of Afghanistan was fully roused, though the
northern portion, now held by the Amir, was quiet. The hatred to the
British seemed to increase day by day. The deportation of prominent
Afghan chiefs to India added fuel to the flame. The horror of such
exile, in the Afghan mind, is extreme; the suffering infinitely greater
than any death.
The fact that the tide of unvarying success which usually characterises
the action of our arms in the East had been so far checked, had
acted curiously on even the Indian mind. Hitherto there had been no
reluctance to serve beyond the borders of the Indian Empire, and no
difficulty in obtaining recruits. Now there was; and to such an extent
that bounties of £5 had to be offered, a sum equivalent with a native
to what £56 would be with an English soldier, in order to fill up the
depleted ranks. Even the often despised Madrasee was willingly taken.
Ayub’s army therefore gathered strength as it advanced, especially
after the Maiwand disaster, and with the prospect of the rich plunder
of Candahar. He certainly numbered at one time some 10,000 men, but
the numbers varied, and these irregulars, like the Highlanders in the
Jacobite wars, often returned home to deposit plunder, see to their
crops, or visit their families.
The Amir who then ruled Afghanistan was by no means averse to the
crushing of this somewhat formidable personage. His seat on the golden
throne was not yet so firmly secure that he could view with equanimity
the rise of a powerful and possibly victorious chieftain, who might
be his rival in the allegiance of the people. He assisted the British
expedition in every way, arranging, as far as he had power, for
supplies to be procured.
To General Roberts was entrusted the command of the relieving column.
It numbered about 10,000 men, with 8000 camp followers, and with it
marched the 92nd, 72nd, and 60th line Regiments, and the 9th Lancers;
but the only artillery were three batteries of 7-pounder screw mountain
guns.
The remainder of the army, including the 9th, 59th, and 67th Regiments,
under Stewart himself, marched back to India by the Khyber Pass,
unmolested by even a single Ghazi bullet, and Lundi Kotal became an
advanced post on this road, as Quettah was on that to Candahar.
Though Stewart’s march from Candahar to Cabul was an anxious one, and
seriously resisted throughout, the return journey was uneventful and
unopposed. Joining hands with Primrose, the combined troops, leaving a
weak garrison in the city, marched out to attack Ayub, who had taken
up a position north of the fortress near the Pir Paimal ridge. Here,
while the 7th and 66th, with some native detachments, freed the central
attack, the right wing movement was effected. Macpherson’s Brigade,
in which served the 92nd, and Baker’s Brigade, forming the left wing,
and having the 72nd Regiment and the 2nd Sikhs in first line, the
5th Ghoorkas and 3rd Sikhs in second line, and the 2nd Beloochees
in third line, was thrust forward on this side against the enemy’s
right. The cavalry had to make a wide detour on the left to cross
the Argandab river. The victory was complete, 31 guns and 2 Royal
Horse Artillery 9-pounders were taken, one of which was claimed by a
plucky little Ghoorka, who, rushing on the gun, thrust his cap in the
muzzle, shouting in Hindustani, “This gun belongs to _my_ regiment,
2nd Ghoorkas, Prince of Wales’s!” The loss was only 46 killed and 202
wounded.
With the battle of “Baba Wali,” or “Candahar,” all opposition ceased,
and the British troops returned to India. Quettah and Lundi Kotal in
the two main passes were garrisoned, and the former has, since the war,
been strongly fortified, while a railway has been constructed to unite
this advanced post with the Indian railway system.
Medals, with clasps, were given for Ali-Musjid, Peiwar Kotal, Cabul
1879, Charasiah, Candahar 1880, Afghanistan 1878 to 1880, and Ahmed
Kehl; while all those who took part in the 318-mile march from Cabul
received a bronze star supported by a rainbow-hued ribbon, as did those
who participated in the first Afghan war thirty years before.
Since the annexation of the Punjab, and between 1849 and 1881, no
less than forty-four expeditions have been undertaken against the
hill people, and since then there have been other minor disturbances
in Sikkim, Waziristan, on the Black Mountain, Manipur, and elsewhere.
Finally, the British army, native and European, has brought to a
successful conclusion the expedition for the relief of Chitral, which
has shown, by the rapidity and secrecy of its mobilisation, and the
skilful conduct of this last “little war,” the preparedness of the army
in India for the work it may have eventually to perform, on a larger
scale even than that of the last Afghan campaign.
Notwithstanding the difficulty of mobilising an Indian army widely
dispersed, and with often indifferent means of intercommunication,
the first division received the order on the 19th March, and was
fully mobilised by the 1st April. The men carried but ten pounds
weight of kit, and the officers forty, and there were no tents; yet,
notwithstanding, 28,000 pack animals were required for this limited
transport. The relief of Chitral, in the fort of which a small British
force, with the British agent, Surgeon-Major Robertson, was besieged
by a native rising composed of Pathans from Jandul, a state bordering
on Chitral, under Umra Khan, and Chitralis under Sher Afzul. It was
proposed to effect the invasion of this mountain district from two
sides. From the south was to advance the first division, in which
were the King’s Own Scottish Borderers, the Gordon Highlanders, the
Bedfordshire Regiment, and a battalion of the King’s Royal Rifles,
and their route lay by Sivat and Dir, with four hill ranges and three
considerable streams to be crossed. From the north-east by Gilgit
and Mastuj a second and smaller column under Colonel Kelly was to
march, having to cross in deep snow a pass 12,000 feet high. Both
expeditions succeeded. Colonel Kelly’s force overcame every difficulty
with the greatest determination, and the rapid and decisive defeat
of the enemy in the Panjkora and Jandul valleys by the main army
soon brought about the complete submission of the revolted tribes.
The defence of the fort of Chitral may be classed among the gallant
deeds English soldiers are proud to recognise, though there were no
European troops other than officers to conduct the operations. There
are some curious stories as to the indifference with which wounds are
regarded by Asiatics. After one of the skirmishes, one of the enemy
with six bullets through him walked nine miles to the British camp to
be treated, and fully recovered; while in another case a lad looking on
at the fight was wounded by a bullet in the arm, which “passed through
it in several places, splintering it badly.” The doctors gave him
the choice between death and amputation, but he declined the latter,
and “in a few days, instead of being dead, he was better, and in a
few days was out and about again.”[66] Against foes with such nerve
strength or indifference to pain, small-bore rifles will be of little
value to check a fanatic rush. The leaders of the little garrison of
Chitral richly earned the rewards bestowed on them; and Surgeon-Captain
Whitchurch won the Victoria Cross.
CHAPTER XVII
THE ARMY IN THE FAR EAST--1819-75
The minor wars outside the main peninsula of Hindostan have been caused
either by the expansion of the Empire of India in the only possible
direction--eastward--or for the purposes of colonisation or trade.
A series of points on the road to the Pacific were gradually obtained,
usually by purchase, between 1786 and 1824, such as Penang, and the
land opposite in the Straits of Malacca, with Singapore and Malacca
farther south. These guarded the sea-road to China, with whom we were
eventually to be engaged in war.
But before that happened, Alompra, King of Ava, had played into the
hands of those who were willing to add still more realms to those
already under the British flag. He had conquered much of the southern
peninsula, and, fancying himself irresistible, had raided our Cachar
territories which bordered on his. He had seized the island of Shapuree
and driven out the British guard there. Reluctant as was the East
India Company to engage in further war after the costly campaigns
with the Mahrattas, they had little choice. Prestige is all-important
with semi-barbaric nations, and force alone wins respect. So this
first expansion of empire into the Burma-Siamese peninsula began as a
punitive expedition.
It commenced with an outbreak of mutiny, which future events in India
rendered ominous. The 47th Bengal Regiment refused to embark for
Burmah, lest they should lose caste. It is possible that their scruples
were sincerely conscientious, and their contract of enlistment does not
seem to have contemplated their employment beyond the seas. It was bad
management to select those whose religious antagonism might be roused;
but the order had been given, and on the continued refusal of the men
to embark, they were fired on by European infantry and artillery and
massacred.
Then the expedition started, on a three years’ campaign, in which the
1st Royals, 13th, 38th, 41st, 44th, 47th, 54th, 87th, and 89th shared,
as did also the forerunner of the present 102nd or 1st Battalion Royal
Dublin Fusiliers, besides numerous regiments of Madras Sepoys.
There had been some skirmishing with the invaders of Cachar, in the
north-west, where General Shuldham was on guard, but the physical
difficulties of forest and mountain rendered military operations
extremely difficult; so that the second step was the occupation of
Arracan by General Richards, with the 44th, 54th, and seven Sepoy
battalions. Little else was done in that province, and the troops
suffered terribly from sickness. Soon after Rangoon was taken by Sir
A. Campbell, who had the 13th, 38th, and 41st Regiments, with a large
force of Sepoys, as well as the remains of the 44th and 54th line
Battalions, and this formed the base of all the future operations.
The war throughout was peculiar. The chief villages and towns were on
or near the banks of the Irrawaddy and its tributaries, and the whole
district was covered by dense forests and marshes through which ran
poor tracks which could scarcely be deemed roads. The enemy fought with
bravery, but rarely ventured to meet the invader in the open, basing
their defence on skilfully constructed stockades, which they rapidly
erected. The physical difficulties were great, and led to delay, which
in its turn led to a steady decimation of the white troops. Between
June 1824 and March 1825, out of an average force of about 2800 men
nearly 1400 had died. It was jungle fighting under the most severe
conditions, and the whole strategic plan of attack was the successive
assault and possession of the chief towns until the capital itself was
reached.
But little headway was made at first. The first attempts on Kemmendine
and Donabu failed; raids on Tavoy, Mergui, Tenasserim, Martaban, and
Yé succeeded. There were constant skirmishes round Rangoon, in which
the 38th and 13th especially distinguished themselves; and as Havelock
says, in his _Memoirs of the Three Campaigns_, the enemy “acquitted
themselves like men. They fell in heaps under the bayonet.”
But until 1825 began, the only result of the operations had been the
possession, more or less, of the coast line. Early in that year a
famous Burmese general, one Maha Bandoola, who had marched through
Arracan bearing with him heavy gold fetters wherewith to bind and make
captive Lord Amherst, appeared before Rangoon. The “Lord of the golden
foot” who ruled in Ava was exasperated at the capture of the place.
His first order had been: “British ships have brought foreign soldiers
to the mouth of the river. They are my prisoners. Cut me some thousand
spans of rope to bind them.” The Burmese army therefore took up and
entrenched a strong position at Kokaing, whence Rangoon was harassed;
but, attacked in rear by Cotton with the 13th Regiment (which lost 53
men and 7 officers killed and wounded, out of a total of 220) and some
Sepoys, and in front by Campbell with a force in which were the 38th,
41st, and 89th (recently arrived), the enemy, 25,000 strong, was badly
beaten by about 1500 men, and fell back on Donabu. The 47th and Royals
having arrived as reinforcements, Campbell pushed on toward Sarawak,
but Cotton, attacking Donabu, was not in sufficient force to carry out
his object; so the two wings united and attacked the place a second
time, and after desperate fighting carried the defences of the town,
and Bandoola was slain. He was a man of an inquiring disposition, and
was anxious to see the properties of the common shell, one “with a very
long fuse having been projected by the British. The live ‘creature’ was
brought fizzing at a dreadful rate to him; and he, at some distance,
surveyed with great curiosity the unfortunate men bringing the fiery
fiend along. Another second or two and it burst, killing the carriers
and every one beside it! Bandoola was thunderstruck, and for the whole
of that day his courage left him.” The stockades were “made of solid
teak beams about 17 feet high driven firmly into the earth. Behind this
wooden wall the old brick ramparts of the place rose to a considerable
height, affording a firm and elevated footing for the defenders. On
the works were 150 cannon and several guns. A ditch surrounded them,
and the passage of it was rendered difficult by spikes and great nails
planted in the earth, by treacherous holes and other contrivances.
Beyond the ditch were several rows of strong railings; but in front of
all was the most formidable defence, an abattis of felled trees, thirty
yards in breadth, extending quite round the works.”
This will give a good idea of the Burmese defences at that time.
The next post of importance occupied was Prome, still farther up the
river, and here, though the lower part of the country was now in the
undisturbed possession of the British, the Burmese army was not yet
cowed, and 60,000 men assembled to blockade Prome. But, assisted by
the fleet which accompanied the advance, the British pushed on, though
opposed step by step, in a series of skirmishes in which the 87th and
41st showed distinguished gallantry; and after a more determined battle
at Melloon, and another at Pagahan-Mew, within forty-five miles of Ava,
a treaty of peace was concluded in February 1826, whereby Arracan, Yé,
Tavoy, Mergui, and Tenasserim were added to the Indian Empire. The war
had cost the lives of 3222 Europeans and 1766 Sepoys, and placed “Ava”
on the colours of the 13th, 38th, 41st, 44th, 45th, 47th, 87th, and
89th Regiments of the line, as well as the Madras European Regiment,
afterwards the 102nd Foot.
But the treaty of Yandaboo, granting safety to merchants and opening
the country up to trade, was never really kept. So much did the
native insolence increase, that in 1852 the foreign inhabitants of
Rangoon embarked in the _Proserpine_, and the occupation of Burmah
was temporarily suspended. But the Marquis of Dalhousie, then
Governor-General, saw the danger of having a hostile State on our
borders, especially if flushed with the idea of strength. In April of
that year, therefore, an army in which were the 18th, 51st, and 80th,
under General Godwin, proceeded to Burmah, and successively occupied,
after but slight resistance, Martaban and Rangoon. In these operations
the fleet as before were usefully employed. So terrible was the heat
that many men, and Major Oakes, who commanded the artillery, perished
from sunstroke; but the key to the position, the Golden Pagoda, was
carried by the 80th and Royal Irish, after some stout fighting and
comparatively little loss. Soon after, Bassein was again taken by the
51st and garrisoned while the enemy made an ineffective attack on
Martaban; but the resistance in this war was by no means so vigorous
as in 1825; and when Pegu, which had been subdued and partly destroyed
during Alompra’s conquests, was taken by one company of the 80th and
some Madras troops, the army advanced unopposed as far as Prome, which
was taken with a loss of one man killed and one wounded. So hostilities
ceased without any formal treaty; but Pegu was annexed, and a military
road was commenced to unite Calcutta with Prome.
The final subjugation of Burmah presents few features of military
interest. The feeble rule of the king necessitated his deposition, and
the country was annexed therefore. Since then its pacification has
steadily progressed, and the military operations have mainly consisted
of moving against the bands of disbanded soldiery, or Dacoits, which
successively formed in the country.
The last operation undertaken in the peninsula was the expedition to
Perak in 1875, which, formerly ruled by Siam, had after 1822 been
independent.
Our possession of the country began in the customary way. Internal
disturbance led us to assist one side, and place a Resident, Mr. J. W.
Birch, in the country; and here again the usual results followed--his
murder, and a punitive expedition. The small war was identical with
those of the neighbouring state of Burmah, the ostensible reason for
it the inadvisability of having a disturbed, internecine war-torn
principality near our own possession of Wellesley Province, opposite
Penang. The operations, similarly, were conducted along the Perak
river; the country itself was heavily jungled and morassed; the enemy
fought us behind stockades. The jungle was “so dense and dark, that
during all the time not a vestige of sun or sky was visible overhead;
and during the advance [on Kinta] they were without cover of any kind,
and slept in the damp, dewy open.” The regiments, or portions thereof,
employed were the 10th and the 3rd Buffs, with Ghoorkas and other
native troops, aided by engineers, artillery, and naval brigades.
Of these latter there were three. Captain Butler, with some of the
men of the _Modeste_ and _Ringdove_, accompanied General Colborne on
the Perak river, which was patrolled by the boats of the navy, and
incursions from the north bank thereby prevented; Captain Garforth,
with bluejackets of the _Philomel_, _Modeste_, and _Ringdove_, was
with Ross in the Larut district; and Captain Stirling of the _Thrush_
co-operated with Colonel Hill in Sunghi Uhjong.
The physical difficulties and the food supply, the want of roads and
the climate, were the chief obstacles; but after a series of severe
skirmishes between the Perak and Kinta rivers, at Kinta, Kotah Lama
and Rathalma, the Malays accepted the inevitable, and fighting ceased.
One remarkable result may be recorded. As soon as British rule was
established, the Malays flocked in numbers to the settled land, and
“Under British sway these have increased until they numbered 120 souls
per square mile, while in the States governed by native sovereigns they
have sunk down to about seven souls in the square mile.” The districts
annexed, and righteously governed, had recently, as Sir Andrew Clarke
stated, been “huge cockpits of slaughter.” The end here unquestionably
justified the means.
* * * * *
The expedition to China was the natural outcome of our commercial
expansion, as others had been produced by colonial expansion. The
innate conservatism of China was at its highest about this time.
Freedom of trade was not; and merchandise, etc., filtered only through
the one doorway of Canton and Macao. Smuggling was rampant, especially
in opium, and this was extensively imported into the country,
notwithstanding the objections raised by the Chinese Government, which
had, twenty years earlier, prohibited its use. From mere threats they
proceeded to active measures. Some twenty thousand chests of opium were
seized, and British merchants trading in the drug were imprisoned.
Early in 1840, therefore, a combined naval and military expedition
was fitted out, the latter consisting of native Indian regiments,
together with the 18th, 26th, and 49th, and later on the 55th and
98th. The attack on the unwieldy empire was more or less coastal; its
aim exhaustion rather than occupation of large areas of territory,
the seizure of great towns rather than a connected campaign. The
Island of Chusan was chosen as the primary base of operations, and
the whole coast line, as far north as the Yangtse, was blockaded, but
the loss from disease was far greater than that caused by battle, and
the Cameronians were soon reduced from 900 to barely 300 strong. The
resistance offered was of no great value. Each success was followed by
negotiations which led to no result beyond the tedious prolongation of
the war.
Thus, in 1841, detachments of the 18th, 26th, and 49th landed and took
Chuenpee, the Bocca-Tigris Forts were destroyed, and Canton fell. The
squadron from Hong Kong Harbour then captured Amoy, the marines and
26th occupying Kulangsu on the left of the entrance, and the 18th and
49th the great battery on the right, or city, side.
The flank of this long, low, coast battery was covered by a crenelated
wall, and when the Royal Irish swarmed over it, the “Tiger Braves,” so
called from their uniform and the tiger’s face on their huge wicker
shields, endeavoured to frighten the invaders by yells and jumps. But
it had little effect, and we “picked ’em off,” said one soldier, “like
partridges on the wing.” This was the first campaign in which the
percussion musket was employed.
Chusan was abandoned for a while, but reoccupied later by the 18th,
49th, and 55th; and shortly afterwards the seaport of Ningpo was taken,
together with Chinghai; while the following year Chapoo and Woosung, at
the mouth of the Shanghai river, were destroyed, and a severe battle
took place at Chin Kiang, which placed the whole of the most important
ports of the Chinese littoral in British hands.
The Tartar troops fought with desperation at Chin Kiang, and, according
to a barbarous custom, based possibly on dread of ill-treatment to
prisoners, they murdered their wives and children before retreating.
One deep draw-well was full to the brim of drowned Tartar girls, some
well dressed and of the higher class.
The fall of Chin Kiang, and the threat to advance upon Nankin, had
brought the emperor to his senses, though probably he had been deceived
up to that time as to the result of the invaders’ efforts. He sued for
peace, therefore, and obtained it at the expense of the cession of
Hong Kong, the opening of five ports to trade, and the payment of an
indemnity of four and a quarter millions sterling. For this campaign
the regiments engaged bear the dragon, with “China,” among their badges.
There was a further small ebullition of hostility to the “Fan Kwei,” or
“foreign devils,” in 1847, in which the 18th was employed to quell the
disturbance, but it was not of much military interest.
But in 1856 hostilities again broke out on a more serious scale. The
Chinese had seized the _Arrow_, a small trading vessel, and taken a
man out of her, on the ground that he was a pirate. The insult to the
flag could not be permitted, and the refusal of apology led to a second
declaration of war. The 59th Regiment was already on the China station,
and with the assistance of the Royal Marines, early in 1857, bombarded
and stormed Canton; it also served in the expedition to the White Cloud
Mountains and at the capture of Nantow in 1858. But the gravity of
the situation in India was too profound to admit of the despatch of
reinforcements to the far East until the great Mutiny was quelled. It
was not until 1859, therefore, that active operations were resumed, and
these met with a disastrous check at the first move; for the fleet,
in attempting to destroy the forts which the Chinese had erected at
the mouth of the Peiho, was decidedly repulsed. In 1860, therefore,
a serious combined naval and military expedition was planned. The
former was commanded by Admiral Hope; the latter by Sir Hope Grant, and
consisted of the 1st Dragoon Guards, a battalion of the 1st Royals,
the 2nd Queen’s, the 3rd Buffs, and the 31st, 44th, 60th, 67th, and
99th Regiments, together with the Royal Marines and Indian troops,
including the famous “Fane’s” and “Probyn’s” Horse. But, in addition,
we were allied with a French force under General Montauban, and, as is
not uncommon in such allied operations, the small French contingent was
often rather a drag than an assistance, totally unprovided as it was
with regular cavalry.
A landing was effected near the mouth of the Peiho, at Pehtang in the
Gulf of Pecheli, and the army marched towards Sinho. The Taku forts
were of considerable size, strongly armed and surrounded by wet ditches
and lines of bamboo pickets. But they were stormed none the less, after
a brief skirmish on the way at Sinho, the works on the north side being
first assailed, as being least formidable and commanding the southern
fort, which was, moreover, to be bombarded from the sea by the French
and British gunboats. But the fall of the first north fort attacked,
where Lieutenants Rogers of the 44th and Burslem of the 67th showed
great gallantry in carrying the colours of their regiments, led to the
abandonment of the rest. Unlike the previous war, this was undertaken
with the definite strategic plan of bringing pressure to bear upon the
emperor by the seizure of his capital. Leaving the Buffs at Taku, and
despatching the 44th to Shanghai, the army marched to Tientsin, whither
the lighter vessels of the squadron also steamed. The route taken was
along the south bank of the Peiho, by Tientsin, Chan-Chia-Wan, and
Palichaio, where the river was crossed, and then, after a detour to
the Summer Palace of Yuan-ming-Yuan, the capital was reached, and
preparations made to breach its massive walls. No serious resistance
was offered until the army had reached Chan-Chia-Wan, where there was a
sharp skirmish, and the enemy abandoned his entrenched position, with
74 guns, within a few miles of Pekin; and exasperation was added to
the desire for attacking the Chinese by the unwarrantable seizure of
Captain Brabazon, Lieutenant Anderson, Mr. Norman, Mr. Bowden, and Mr.
(afterwards Sir Harry) Parkes, who were taken prisoners, and with the
sole exception of Parkes, barbarously murdered.
One last effort was made to cover Pekin, before the emperor fled,
at the Bridge of Palichaio, and here the French attacked with the
greatest vigour the Chinese Imperial Guard, and drove them back with
loss, taking 25 guns. This obtained for General Montauban the title of
Comte de Palikao. The further advance was practically unopposed. The
Summer Palace was looted and finally burned; the main gate of Pekin
surrendered to avoid bombardment.
The plunder in the Summer Palace was immense, but the French, less
scrupulous than the British, began it, and had the best of it.
“In the room,” says an eye-witness, “we proceeded to examine the
imperial curiosities, as we might have done those in a museum, but the
French officers proceeded to ‘_arracher_’ everything they took a fancy
to, gold watches and small valuables being thrust with amazing velocity
into the capacious side pockets of their voluminous red pantaloons.
Though the general asserted that nothing was to be touched till Sir
Hope Grant arrived, yet the ‘looting’ of the famous Summer Palace went
on. One French officer found a string of gorgeous pearls, each being
the size of a marble, which he afterward foolishly sold at Hong Kong
for £3000. Others had pencil-cases set with pure diamonds; others
watches and vases thickly studded with pearls.”
Again, “In an outhouse two carriages, presented to the Emperor
Taon-Kwong by Lord Macartney, were found; and such a quantity of gold
fell into the hands of the 15th Punjaubees that one officer alone got
£9000.”
The wilful destruction of the palace was a stern necessity. As Sir
Garnet Wolseley, in his account of the war, says: “The destruction
of the palace appears to have struck the Pekin authorities with awe.
It was the stamp which gave an unmistakable reality to our work of
vengeance, proving that Lord Elgin’s last letter was no idle threat,
and warning them of what they might expect in the capital itself unless
they accepted our proffered terms.”
There is one incident regarding the conduct of one of the brave men
who fought in this campaign, which is worth recording. Private Moyse
of the Buffs was, with some Indian troops, taken prisoner near Sinho,
and led before the Tartar general. Here the prisoners were ordered to
_kow-tow_, the usual salutation from the lower classes in China to the
higher classes, and which consists of kneeling down and touching the
ground several times with the forehead. The native soldiers obeyed.
Private Moyse refused, and was at once killed. The story has been
touchingly poetised by Sir F. H. Doyle, under the title of “The Private
of the Buffs.”[67]
“Last night among his fellow roughs,
He jested, quaffed, and swore,
A drunken private of the Buffs
Who never looked before.
To-day, beneath the foeman’s frown,
He stands in Elgin’s place,
Ambassador from Britain’s crown,
And type of all her race.
Poor, reckless, rude, low-born, untaught,
Bewildered, and alone;
A heart with English instinct fraught,
He yet can call his own.
Ay, tear his body limb from limb,
Bring cord or axe or flame,
He only knows that not _through_ him
Shall England come to shame.
* * * * *
Yes, honour calls, with strength like steel
He put the vision by;
Let dusky Indians whine and kneel,
An English lad must die.
And thus, with eyes that would not shrink,
With knee to man unbent,
Unfaltering on its dreadful brink
To his red grave he went.
Vain, mightiest fleets of iron framed,
Vain, those all-shattering guns,
Unless proud England keep untamed
The strong heart of her sons.
So let his name through Europe ring,
A man of mean estate,
Who died as firm as Sparta’s king
Because his soul was great.”
The battle of Palichaio practically terminated the war. The conquerors
refused to come to terms unless Pekin was itself occupied, and, when
this was agreed to, peace followed in due course. The Chinese had to
pay an indemnity of £100,000, open the port of Tientsin to trade,
and add the island of Kowloon, opposite Hong Kong, to the British
possessions in China.
* * * * *
In the area of the South Pacific there had been little employment for
the army except as the national police. No resistance had been offered
to our occupation of the islands in the Southern Seas, with the sole
exception of New Zealand. The war that broke out here was remarkable
for the great courage shown by the natives, and for the stubborn
resistance offered to the troops engaged in what were lightly called
rebellions. In such campaigns there could be no very connected plan.
It was essentially bush fighting, against isolated bodies or tribal
headquarters, very skilfully entrenched and stockaded.
It began in 1847, three years after the island had been declared
a British colony, and arose from the gradual colonisation of the
territory and the occupation of the tribal lands. This was contrary to
the national feelings of the Maoris, and was bitterly resented. The
country was much wooded, and the natives warlike and cannibal. Like
all such contests, the wars were prolonged and embittered. The first
one lasted more or less from 1849 to 1856, and from time to time kept
fully employed the 58th, 65th, 98th, and 99th Regiments of the line.
The second continued from 1860 until 1869, and employed at intervals
no less than thirteen regiments of the line, which, therefore, bear
“New Zealand” on their colours; and afforded many opportunities for
distinguished bravery, which gained Colonel M’Neill, Doctors Manley
and Temple, Lieutenant Pickard, Sergeant M’Kenna, Sergeant-major
Lucas, Ensign Down, and Drummer Stagpoole the honour of the Victoria
Cross. The regiments referred to are the 12th, 14th, 18th, 40th, 43rd,
50th, 57th, 58th, 65th, 68th, 70th, 96th, and 99th, and at one time
there were altogether some 25,000 men under arms, of which 10,000
were regulars; while, on the other hand, the enemy are said never to
have been able to muster for battle at one time more than 600 men!
The positions selected for defence were, as a rule, well chosen, and
protected with well-constructed rifle-pits, and they communicated with
each other by fire signals by night, and steam produced by pouring
water on heated stones, by day. The general plan of operation was
necessarily dislocated. As districts were cleared of the enemy, so
redoubts were made and garrisoned to hold in awe the land.
The fighting was at times terribly severe, well sustained, and at times
chivalric. At Rangiriri, where the British loss was 15 officers and 117
men killed and wounded of the 40th, 65th, 12th, and 14th Regiments, the
Maoris surrendered, and at once fraternised with their late opponents,
and in a speech said, “We fought you at Koheroa, and fought you well;
we fought you at Rangiriri, and fought you well, and now we are friends
for ever, for ever, for ever.” Similarly, at the “Gate Pah” the enemy
had entrenched himself, and threatened the station of Tauranga; so the
garrison was reinforced by the 68th and detachments of the 12th, 14th,
43rd, and 65th Regiments, with a force of marines and bluejackets,
with nine guns and six mortars, and advanced to drive the Maoris from
their strongly-entrenched position. The flanks rested on marshes,
and “on the highest point of the neck the Maoris had constructed an
oblong redoubt, well palisaded and surrounded by a strong post and rail
fence--a formidable obstacle to an advancing column, and difficult
to destroy with artillery; the interval between the side faces of
the redoubt and the swamps was defended by an entrenched line of
rifle-pits.”
This will give a fair type of the Maori method of defence, and is
sufficient evidence of a natural military eye for ground.
The attack was checked at first with heavy loss, and the enemy
escaped during the night. On the field were left 14 officers killed
and wounded, and 97 non-commissioned officers and men. For when the
stormers entered the work, the enemy had concealed themselves in
subterranean hollows or casemates, which both protected them from the
artillery fire and hid them from view, and from this cover close and
heavy volleys were fired by a concealed adversary at a range where
every shot told. The sudden panic so created spread to the supports,
and hence the disaster which fell so heavily on the gallant “fighting
43rd.”
The desultory fighting continued until the Maoris were exhausted, and
a better understanding between native customs and European methods has
led to prolonged peace.
* * * * *
Many improvements had been made in the army during the years comprising
the period under review. Rifled artillery had entirely superseded
smooth-bores after the Franco-Austrian campaign of 1859. The Enfield
rifle was converted into the breech-loading “Snider” soon after the
value of the new mechanism had been proved in the Austro-Prussian War
of 1866; but even as late as the China War many of the Indian regiments
were still armed with the old flint “firelock” or “Brown Bess.” The
Act of 1867 had been passed, making the length of army service twelve
years, with power of re-engaging for twenty-one years for pension. An
effort was made to create a reserve.
The system of payment, too, was altered in 1824, and men were paid
daily. Previous to that time a certain amount of petty cash was issued
weekly, and the balance at the end of the month.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE ARMY IN SOUTH AND WEST AFRICA--1834-86
Omitting such small “affairs” as were consequent on the extension and
for long purely coastal expansion of our Empire in Africa after the
long war, there is little to record until 1834. The conquest of the
Dark Continent had been gradual, and practically commercial. It had
been largely based on geographical discoveries. War and political
occupation followed missionary enterprise here as elsewhere. Nothing
is more curious to watch than how often the proselyte is followed by
the soldier and the sword. The colonist and trade follow the first,
and with him or them come trade-rum, trade-firearms, and all the
so-called blessings of civilisation. After both comes first friction,
then fighting, and finally conquest. These are usually the phases of
Anglo-Saxon colonial expansion, unless we add to them the last end of
all, the practical extermination of the native races.
So it was in America, where the red man is dying out; and so in New
Zealand, though to a less degree, for the natives there are of better
stock. It is not yet to the same extent in Africa, solely because
the population, in the latter days of the nineteenth century, is too
redundant. But unless the black can assimilate with the white, he must
as assuredly give place to those who have the mental and physical
power, as the red man has been driven westward against the mountain
ridges of America.
Asiatics alone, among the races of colour, have held their own,
because the people are intellectually sound. In that country, built
up of many countries, there has been always, as far as historic time
goes, civilisation. In Africa there has been none, save that alone of
immigrants. In China, again, there is no dread of such extermination;
its people, though barbaric, are intellectual and more than
semi-civilised. In Japan the extreme case is met with. A nation of high
artistic and intellectual power, not a quarter of a century ago ranking
among armour-wearing barbarians, it has shown its strength in its
recent war with China, and won respect and equality among the leading
nations of the earth.
This Africa has _never_ done, and its history therefore, as far as
Great Britain’s army is concerned, is not that of the barbaric or
semi-barbaric powers with whom we have come in contact, but that of
savage powers who are incapable of improvement or absorption, and whose
only destiny is to remain hewers of wood and drawers of water. As the
red man numbered millions when the eighteenth century was dying, and
within a hundred years is far less than a _quantité negligéable_, so
the black man, numbering millions when the nineteenth century is also
a-dying, may possibly, before another century, fade out too. There is
no room for either, unless the black mends his ways better than the red
man did.
The earliest occupation of the African littoral was that of the
North-West Coast for purely trading purposes, and that of the Cape of
Good Hope for those of colonial expansion, and as one of the chain of
ports uniting our Eastern and Far Eastern possessions with the mother
country. In early days they were the depôts whence the essential
necessaries of food, water, and stores were replenished. Now they are
even more vitally important as the coaling stations for the ocean
steamers.
As already referred to, the Cape of Good Hope was seized by conquest
in 1805. The West African settlements at Gambia, Sierra Leone, Gold
Coast, and Lagos, united in 1806 into one government, bear date from
1787, etc., and were made primarily with little serious opposition.
The West African is a less serious fighting personage than either his
stalwart brother of Zululand or the “Fuzzy Wuzzy” of the Soudan. There
was little antagonism at first, that is to say, after the conquest
of the Cape of Good Hope from the Dutch. There was plenty of room for
expansion, and the population was for a long time meagre.
But in 1817 the 72nd was engaged in suppressing a rising of the Kaffirs
of the Great Fish River; and in 1834 it was again employed against
Macomo in the same district. The frontier troubles were getting rather
more serious, and the Kaffir invasion of the colony was marked by the
usual savage atrocities. Almost the only military operation of the
practically peaceful reign of William IV. was the punitive expedition
of Colonel Peddie’s Highlanders against these tribes.
The frontier, however, still remained restless for some years after
this; and in 1843 the tables were somewhat turned, inasmuch as the
91st Regiment was despatched to assist the Griquas, who had placed
themselves under our protection, against the Boers, on the Orange River.
Shortly after, in 1846, the first serious Kaffir war broke out, and in
it the first and reserve battalions of the 91st, the 6th, 73rd, 45th,
and Rifle Brigade were actively engaged for nearly two years. There was
much hard fighting in the Amatola Mountains, at Burn’s Hill and Block
Drift, and one noteworthy act of bravery may be recorded of Privates
Walsh and Reilly, who, when Fort Cox was beleaguered, managed to convey
a despatch through the investing savages to Governor Maitland.
At the close of the year 1850 the racial antagonism again appeared, and
this second Kaffir war lasted until 1853, requiring the services of
the 2nd, 6th, 43rd, 45th, 60th, 73rd, 74th, and 91st Regiments of the
Line, besides the Rifle Brigade, the Cape Mounted Rifles and Colonial
Irregulars. The British frontier, when war broke out, was supposed
to be represented by the Kei River, between which and the Great Fish
River the country had been informally considered more or less neutral.
But all buffer states are dangers as a rule, and neutral belts are
no better. So thought Sandilli, a powerful Kaffir chieftain; jealous
of his own waning power as that of the white man increased, and also
at being deposed by the governor of the colony, he broke into open
revolt. The country was dense forest, roads rare, and the conduct of
the war desultory. To destroy the rude kraals of the enemy, carry off
his cattle, cut down his crops to starve him out, and finally assault
some central stronghold such as are to be found in hill districts like
the Amatolas, or some isolated hill honeycombed with caves, was the
method of procedure then as it is now. Nothing has changed less in the
army’s history than the tactics of savage war, especially in Africa.
Sir Harry Smith, who commanded, was not particularly successful
either in his conduct of the campaign or in his judgment of the
military situation. There were several small disasters, such as befell
detachments of the 6th and 73rd under Mackinnon at the Keiskamma
defile, and which partook then, and often after, of the nature of
ambuscades. A detachment of the 45th escorting a convoy was cut off.
The garrison of Fort Cox was for a time surrounded and completely
isolated by the Kaffirs. Meanwhile, numerous European villages were
destroyed by the enemy, and in many cases the inhabitants massacred
with extreme barbarity and with horrible mutilations.
In the spring of 1852 a determined advance was made against the Amatola
Mountains, in which was Sandilli’s stronghold, and the Highland
“tortoises,” as the enemy called the 74th, from a fancied resemblance
of their tartans to the markings of the land tortoise of South Africa,
after much heavy fighting and hard work, succeeded in clearing the
district, but it took until September, when there was a sharp skirmish
at Kromme.
Early in October the Kaffirs assembled on the Waterkloof heights, where
the fortress of Chief Macomo was attacked seven times before the enemy
were subdued. It cost the lives of many officers and men, including
that of Colonel Fordyce of the 74th. Thus hostilities practically
ended, as the expedition across the Orange River against the Basuto
chief Moshesh, with the 2nd, 43rd, 73rd, 74th, Rifle Brigade, and 12th
Lancers, with some artillery and irregulars, was not opposed.
The next important outbreak of hostilities occurred on the West Coast.
There had been, long before 1873, frequent troubles in the Hinterland
of the West Coast settlements. There had even been war about 1824 and
1826, when we had to defeat the natives at Accra, after much previous
desultory skirmishing, in one of which Sir Charles Macarthy, the
Governor of the Coast, was slain, and the force with him practically
destroyed. There was a further slight disturbance in 1863; but in 1870,
a more serious dispute arose as to the ownership of Elmina, which we
had taken over from the Dutch. Many impolitic acts were committed as
regards the assistance that might have been rendered by us to those
tribes most exposed to the Ashanti attack, and finally, in January
1873, the Ashanti army crossed the Prah, and attacked the Assims and
Fantees, and these after a while were worsted, and the roads to Cape
Coast Castle and Elmina were thus left open. The Elminas and Ashantis
fraternised, and made an effort to seize the Elmina Fort, but were
repulsed by Colonel Festing, with some Royal Marines and a Naval
Brigade; and thus matters remained, with 20,000 Ashantis at Mampon,
ten miles distant from the British forts, until the arrival of the
expedition commanded by Sir Garnet Wolseley, which reached the coast in
October 1874. Partly by way of a diversion, and partly as a punitive
expedition, a small force was first sent to Elmina, and landing there,
advanced against the allied natives at Essiaman, and dispersed them
with little loss. Native levies were raised, and placed under the
charge of European officers; posts were prepared, and the road improved
between Cape Coast and the Prah, one result of which preparation was
the abandonment by the Ashantis of their Mampon camp, and their falling
back behind the river. Sundry other small expeditions from Dunquah and
towards Abracampa also assisted.
In addition to the main advance, another was prepared under Captain
Glover and Captain R. Sartorius, and was designed to advance from Accra
on Coomassie. It was composed entirely of native levies led by a few
British officers, but did not reach the Ashanti capital until it had
been captured and abandoned by the main column.
This was composed of the 2nd Battalion of the Rifle Brigade, the 23rd,
and the 42nd, and by New Year’s day, 1874, these troops had landed
at Cape Coast Castle. No expedition could have been better managed
or organised. Every attention was paid to the slightest detail. Sir
Garnet’s instructions for the officers, as regards their attention to
their men, are more than instructive: they evidence the patient study
of details necessary for the well-being of his command, which only a
careful leader knows to be as essential to success as the fighting of
his men when the time for action comes. Sir Garnet’s _Notes for the Use
of the Troops_ should be read by everybody who has to conduct a similar
campaign.
When the advance began, the stations between the coast and the Prah
numbered eight in the sixty-nine miles that covered the distance.
Soon the Prah was reached, the river that the Ashantis believed would
never be crossed by a white man; but Lieutenant Grant of the 5th
crossed it first, none the less. Here the stream, some 70 feet wide and
9 feet deep, was bridged with a crib bridge, and King Koffi Calcali
sent ambassadors to treat for peace. But it was too late, even if the
barbaric potentate could be trusted.
The army pushed on, deserted at times by the carriers, and little
helped by the native allies; though the black regiments commanded by
Russell, Wood, and Webber did some useful work.
The Adansi Hills and Bahrein river were successively crossed, and a
skirmish occurred at a village near Adubiassie, in which Captain Nicol
was killed; but the first serious battle was that of Amoaful, in which
the Ashanti army stubbornly fought for more than five hours before they
fell back beaten.
The bush was terribly dense, the tracks were but 8 feet broad. Paths
had therefore to be hewn by the engineers in every case where the
slightest width of front was necessary.
Strong in numbers, and acquainted with the jungle tracks, the Ashantis
were able to assail both flanks and rear of the column as well as hold
it in front. Simultaneous attacks could be, and were, made during and
immediately after the battle on the fortified posts along the line of
communication with the Prah and Cape Coast at Quaman, Fomanah, etc.
The fighting formation that could best meet these difficulties was,
as in most of our African wars, a species of square. The advance was
made in three columns. The centre, which formed, so to speak, the
front face as far as possible, and was composed of the 42nd and the
detachment of the 23rd, with Rait’s guns, was to seize the village of
Egginassie. The left column, the Naval Brigade, and Russell’s native
regiment, with some Royal Engineers and two rocket troughs, was to move
by a road cut through the bush some few hundred yards from the central
column. The right column was also built up of the Naval Brigade, with
another native regiment, and some Engineers and rocket tubes. The 2nd
Battalion of the Rifle Brigade formed the reserve or rear face, if
required, of the square. The village of Egginassie was occupied with
but little opposition, and the firing was continuous and heavy, as
the troops advanced farther. Fortunately the missiles were slugs, not
bullets, or the loss would have been serious. As it was, many men were
hit, some severely, and Captain Buckle was killed. The total casualties
amounted to 250, while the Ashanti loss was heavy, and their leader,
Ammonquantia, was slain.
The following day the village of Bequah was taken, and further severe
skirmishing took place at the passage of the Ordah, which had to be
bridged, and while the baggage convoy was being packed at Ordahsu, a
further effort was made to disturb the column, and Lieutenant Eyre
was killed. Here the defence was half-hearted, and the capture of the
capital, Coomassie, was not opposed. It was “a town over which the
smell of death hangs everywhere and pulsates on each sickly breath
of wind--a town where, here and there, a vulture hops at one’s very
feet, too gorged to join the filthy flock preening itself on the
gaunt dead trunks that line the road; where blood is plastered like
a pitch coating over trees, floors, and stools--blood of a thousand
victims yearly-renewed; where headless bodies make common sport; where
murder, pure and simple, monotonous massacre of bound men, is the one
employment of the king, and the one spectacle of the populace.”[68]
One of the many reasons for the war was a wish to put down the
barbarous horrors of King Koffi Calcali’s reign, and a stipulation to
that effect was made in the treaty, but it was disregarded. It required
a second expedition to carry the measure into effect, by the deposition
of the king’s successor, Prempeh, and the bloodless occupation of the
capital--measures over which gloom was cast by the death of Prince
Henry of Battenberg. Finally, in the first expedition, the city was set
on fire, the king’s palace destroyed, and the army turned back to the
coast. It was quite time; the rains had set in, and what were rivulets
on the march up were now unfordable streams on the march back. Men half
swam, were half dragged over these, their clothes being carried on the
heads of natives. In one case, the bundle was lost, and, it is said
that the unfortunate owner paraded the next morning with nothing but
his helmet and rifle!
The war was over, and a treaty of peace signed; but after the
retirement of Sir Garnet Wolseley from Coomassie, Captain Reginald
Sartorius, who led the advance of Captain Glover’s force from the
Volta, rode alone through the ruins of the city to communicate with
the general commanding, and won thus the Victoria Cross. But this
expedition was too late to join hands with the main column, though it
had some skirmishing on the way; as also were those of Captain Butler
with the Akims, and Captain Dalrymple with the Wassaws. Small as the
war was, and of very short duration, it was sufficiently deadly. By
July 9, 1874, thirty-eight officers of the whole force were dead.[69]
Turning once more to South Africa, it will be remembered that the
Kaffir wars of 1850-53 had been chiefly fought about the valley of the
Kei, south of which river was British Kaffraria, including the tribes
of the Fingoes and Gaikas, while in the Transkei district are the
Galekas, Pondos, Griquas, etc. The war broke out much as before. The
Gaika chief Sandilli and the Galeka chief Kreli attacked our old allies
the Fingoes in 1877, and the Kaffirs, being better armed with rifles
than in 1850, were now rather more formidable.
The enemy developed an increasing knowledge of tactics. The old
irregular rush of a mass of men had given way to more methodical
formations. Thus Kreli in his advance on the police post of Ibeka--the
frontier police had taken the place of the Cape Mounted Rifles, which
had been disbanded--had about 2000 of his 10,000 men mounted, and
advanced in line of columns covered by skirmishers. But the fire of the
breech-loader, together with that of rockets and 7-pounders, checked
then, as before, the savage ardour. The war, which lasted more or less
intermittently until 1878, was mainly carried out by colonial and
irregular levies; but many detachments for holding the defensive posts
with which the country was dotted were furnished by the 88th, the 24th
(whose bandsmen were trained as gunners to work a 7-pounder gun), a
naval brigade with marines, the 90th (one of whose men emphasised the
value of the Martini-Henry rifle by hitting a man who was whooping
and dancing 1800 yards away), the 2nd Buffs, and the 13th, and most
of these regiments shared in the prolonged war. The losses were more
serious both with officers and men, for the better weapons the Kaffirs
had secured told.
But the end, though long in coming, was decisive. Kreli surrendered,
Sandilli was killed, risings in Griqualand were suppressed, and the
Basutos were crushed when their chief Morosi’s heavily-fortified
stronghold was stormed. The theatre of war had extended north as far
as Mafeking, where there was hard fighting with another Basuto leader
named Letherodi.
The next campaign against the natives was far more serious than the
preceding one. The Zulus were probably the bravest of all these
southern tribes, and had some form of discipline, organisation, and
tactics, though their arms--clubs or “knob-kerries,” shields, muskets
of sorts, and assegais--were much the same as in other parts of Africa,
save that the latter were shorter, blunt at the end, and broader in
the blade, being intended for stabbing rather than throwing. In other
respects the people were bloodthirsty, superstitious, and sanguinary,
given over to “witch doctors” and brutal massacres. There had been
frequent raids on the Natal frontier by them from 1838 onwards until
1878, when the spirit of restlessness increased, and General Thesiger
took command of the army at the Cape, which then consisted of the 3rd,
13th, 24th, 80th, 88th, and 90th Regiments, with two batteries of
Artillery and some Engineers. The country was to be invaded by three
columns. The first or southern column, under Colonel Pearson, consisted
of the Buffs, the 99th, with some Artillery, a Naval Brigade, and local
levies; the second or central column was to move from Helpmakaar under
Colonel Glyn, and contained the 1st and 2nd Battalions of the 24th, a
battery, and other levies; and the northern, which was based on Utrecht
in the Transvaal, under Colonel Evelyn Wood, in which were a battery
and the 13th, 60th, and 90th Regiments. A fourth column under Colonel
Durnford was to march later, between the first and second columns.
Opposed to them were supposed to be about 40,000 fighting men. They
were organised in large masses, and used skirmishers. Speaking
generally, their tactical method was to form a complete ring, if
possible, around the body attacked, and then close. On the 12th January
1879 the troops marched, and on the 22nd Pearson had a smart brush with
the enemy at Inyezane, but reached his first objective, Etschowe, where
a depôt was to be formed, without further opposition.
The central column had been less fortunate, for, crossing the river at
Rorke’s Drift, where a detachment of the 24th were left, the small
army pushed on to the isolated hill of Isandhlwana. Here, while the
general was reconnoitring to the south-east, the Zulu army passed
across his front and attacked the camp. A desperate resistance was
made, but against 14,000 Zulus there could be only one result. Few of
the British escaped, and one colour of the 24th was lost, the “Queen’s
colour” of the 1st battalion being carried safely as far as the river
by Lieutenants Melville and Coghill, who gallantly died there in its
defence.
This colour was subsequently recovered, and the “regimental” colour
had been left safe at Helpmakaar. Of the regular troops 26 officers
and 806 men had fallen, and 24 colonial officers and many men had also
perished. The only gleam of sunshine on this gloomy and disastrous
day was the gallant defence of the commissariat camp at Rorke’s Drift
by Lieutenants Chard and Bromhead of the Royal Engineers and 24th
respectively. For when the victorious “Impi” continued its advance, it
found the post hastily fortified with biscuit-boxes, mealie sacks, and
bags of Indian corn, and so desperate was the resistance of the small
band, 139 men in all, of whom 35 were sick, against 4000 Zulus, that
they fell back beaten. The brave defence had prevented the invasion of
Natal, and in all the annals of the army there is no more brilliant
episode than the defence of Rorke’s Drift.
Wood’s column had meanwhile reached the White Umvolosi, and while
a stone fort was being built there, and named “Fort Tinta,” many
reconnaissances were made towards the Zungen range; but though there
were many skirmishes, there was on this side no serious fighting yet.
So ended the first stage of the war. The general’s first idea was to
fall back on the Tugela and await reinforcements; but, leaving to
Colonel Pearson to act on his own discretion, that officer decided on
remaining at Etschowe and fortifying it. Here for some time he was
completely isolated, but several successful raids were made, in one
of which Dabiulamanzi’s Kraal was burned. Relief came on the 2nd
April, when a force under Colonel Low, consisting of a naval brigade,
the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, the Lanarkshire Regiment,
detachments of the Buffs and 57th, the 37th, the 60th, with some guns,
rocket tubes, and Gatlings, etc., advanced as far as Ginghilovo, and
these, when in laager, were attacked by a force 10,000 strong, who
fought with the greatest bravery, closing up to the very rifles of
the defenders; but the fire was too heavy, and when they fell back
in disorder, a charge of Barrow’s mounted irregulars completed their
discomfiture. They had lost 1200 men, at a cost to their opponents of
9 men killed and 52, including 2 officers, wounded. After the relief
of Etschowe, the force fell back to Ginghilovo and encamped. As the
right wing had fought a successful battle and altered its position, so
the left wing was to copy its example. For Colonel Wood, leaving Fort
Tinta and entrenching at Kambula, made many raids thence, including
that to the Inhlobane Mountain, a famous natural fastness of the Zulus,
where the natives had been for some time collecting. Here the force was
attacked by a strong Impi formed in a line of five contiguous columns,
forming the “chest” and “two horns,” covered by skirmishers; but,
owing to a series of unfortunate misunderstandings, the retirement was
effected in some disorder and with much loss. Nearly all the Border
Horse were slain, as also was our staunch Boer ally, “splendid, manly,
honest, simple, and taciturn Piet Uys, whose fathers, uncles, and
cousins fought and fell in the old war with Dingaan”; while 15 officers
and 79 men were killed, and 1 officer and 7 men wounded. But Colonel
Buller, Lieutenant Lysons, and Private Fowler, for distinguished
bravery, earned the Victoria Cross. Success emboldened the Zulu
chieftains, and, pushing on, they attacked the Kambula laagers on the
20th March, with 25,000 men, and after one of the most serious and
prolonged battles of the war, fell back beaten, and were pursued for
many miles. Out of the British force of some 2000 men, only 18 men were
killed, and 8 officers and 57 men were wounded.
As Rorke’s Drift saved Natal from invasion, so Kambula preserved
Utrecht and the Transvaal.
An incident in this phase of the campaign was the attack by the Swazi
freebooter Umbelini on a convoy, guarded by a detachment of the 80th,
when on its way from Luneberg to Derby in the Transvaal, in which the
convoy guard lost 62 men out of 106, and Lieutenant Harward, for riding
off to get assistance, was tried by court-martial, but acquitted.
The final stage of the war was approaching. Reinforcements were rapidly
arriving. These were the 1st Dragoon Guards and the 17th Lancers, two
more batteries, and Royal Engineers, the Royal Scots Fusiliers, 59th,
60th, 91st, and 94th; and among the fresh arrivals was Prince Louis
Napoleon, who was appointed an extra aide-de-camp on the headquarter’s
staff, and Sir Garnet Wolseley.
The reorganised army again formed three columns, but Wood’s command was
to act as an independent flying column in the north; the next column,
No. 2 Division, under General Newdigate, and based on Utrecht, moving
by Landmann Drift across the Ityolyosi on Ulundi.
It was in a reconnaissance towards the last-named river that
Prince Napoleon was slain, an event the sadness of which cannot be
over-estimated, and over which it is well to draw a veil. Finally,
on crossing the White Umvolosi the 2nd Division was joined by Wood’s
column, and, leaving one battalion of the 24th to guard the baggage,
the remainder formed a huge hollow rectangle, with the baggage in the
centre. Marching in this formation with bands playing and colours
flying, until a suitable position was found within sight of the king’s
kraal at Ulundi, it there awaited battle four ranks deep, the two front
of which knelt. Brave as was the assault, a bravery which asked no
quarter, it was powerless against better arms and better discipline.
The fight had lasted barely an hour when the Zulu power was utterly
broken.
Meanwhile, the 1st Division under Crealock on the right had been
operating in the south by the lower Tugela and Etschowe, moving
somewhat close to the coast and in the direction of Ulundi; but
through no fault of its own it did not reach the field in time, and
when the final battle was won, the army as then constituted was
practically broken up. Other arrangements for its distribution were
then made, and a series of forts and fortified posts held by sufficient
garrisons were formed all along the Zulu frontier. But the closing
scene had yet to come. Two columns were formed for the final military
exploration of Zululand, the one under Colonel Clarke, which had among
its number the 57th, 60th, and 80th, and the other under Colonel Baker
Russell, which included the 94th. The former was to occupy Ulundi, and
thence attempt the capture of the king. This was effected by Major
Marter after much trouble, and the war was thus at an end. On being
captured, Cetewayo remained, though broken, a king, and objected with
dignity to being taken by a private of dragoons, with the words, “White
soldier, touch me not--I surrender to your chief.”
Baker Russell was to search the southern and eastern part of the
country, and after doing so, enter the Transvaal about Luneberg. This
was done, and the last shots in the Zulu war were fired by his column
in an attack on the Manganobas in the Intombe valley.
The war had cost the army 76 officers and 1007 men killed, and 37
officers and 206 men wounded; while in addition 17 officers and 330
men died from disease, and 1286 were invalided home. The cost to the
country financially had been £5,230,323.
Sir Garnet Wolseley’s lucky star had again shone over him in these
operations. His presence in South Africa coincided with the period of
success and the capture of Cetewayo. There was one more knotty point
for him to settle, that of the still insurgent chief Sekukuni, who
had been a thorn in the side of the Boers, whose territory we then
possessed. It will be seen next how his good fortune, based on careful
attention to details both moral and physical, led to the surrender of
the last disturbing element in this section of South Africa,--at least
as far as the natives were concerned.
It may be considered a matter of regret that the State did not
undertake the annexation of Zululand, as it did the absorption of
Indian tribes a century ago. Our brave but bitter enemies, the Sikhs,
have become our most reliable soldiers in India. Similarly there
was no personal hostility when war ceased between the Zulu and the
English soldier; rather the reverse. They had received the elements of
military organisation, and had shown themselves apt pupils in applying
them. To have substituted for Panda’s discipline and training that
of our own army under able and skilful officers, accustomed to make
of native levies regiments more or less irregular but of the highest
military value, would have been easy with our Eastern experience. A
Zulu militia, well trained, well armed, and led by whites, would have
conduced to the peace of South Africa as much as Sikhs, Beloochees, and
Ghoorkas do to the preservation, by military means, of peace among the
discordant elements, both national and theological, which go to make
up our great Eastern satrapy. Such a force would have fought for brave
leaders, and with them, as the hastily raised levies of the Mutiny
fought for Fane, or Probyn, or Hodson.
Such an army, created mainly for defensive, and not necessarily
offensive, purposes, would have created a military peace. Fear of it
would have kept turbulent and restless peoples in wholesome fear.
Trained and led by British officers, it would have been the police of
South Africa at the smallest possible cost to the English State. To
have kept alive the military instinct of the Zulu, to have instilled
into him the soldier’s habit of discipline and cleanliness, would have
saved him.
We have won South Africa purely and simply by the sword and so must
we keep it. But we could keep it best--as we keep the peace in
India--by not ignoring the military spirit of the people, but by
showing the justice of our rule, and keeping alive the soldier feeling
as a national police. Any other course is impossible with savage or
semi-barbarous people. Nothing is despised more than a weakness which
they translate as fear. It is a fatal day when a nation, whose history
throughout is one of conquest, forgets how she has made the empire, and
thinks to hold it by other means, such as by a popular opinion which it
takes centuries to create and make good. To forget the traditions of
the race is equally fatal. Our empire was never made by concessions; it
was made by forcible possession, and that, as a general rule certainly,
for the eventual benefit, as far as civilisation is concerned, of the
people we have conquered. The neglect of this is at the bottom of the
disastrous campaign that followed the destruction of the Zulu power.
“_Vestigia nulla retrorsum._” To go back is weakness with all except
the highest intellectual nations. We took the Transvaal, and stated
that the former condition of things there should _never_ be restored!
The wisdom of the first step may be a matter of opinion. The evil of
the “afterwards” is another question altogether.
Anyhow, our annexation of the Transvaal in 1877 had led to collision
with Sekukuni, a turbulent Basuto chieftain, and at first the
operations taken against him were unsuccessful, Colonel Rowland’s
force, which included a company of the 13th, having to fall back to
Lydenburg. During the Zulu campaign he had openly sympathised with
Cetewayo, and had had frequent skirmishes with the Transvaal Boers.
When, therefore, the Zulu war terminated, Sir Garnet Wolseley’s
attention was turned towards this constant source of trouble, and in
October 1879 he moved against the “fighting Koppie” with detachments of
the 21st Royal Scots Fusiliers, 86th, and 94th, in all 1400 European
troops, and 4000 native levies, to meet a force estimated at 14,000
men, strongly entrenched. The district occupied by Sekukuni lies in a
bend between the junction of the Oliphant and Steelpoort rivers, and
was surrounded by fortified posts. The fortress itself was naturally
strong: “Its whole interior was honeycombed by nature, intersected by
passage and gallery, leading into great chambers with chinks, clefts,
and crannies, forming natural loopholes for musketry, and in one place
there yawned an appalling chasm which had never been fathomed, and was
believed to contain water at the bottom. When in the agonies of thirst
on the third day of their blockade, some of Sekukuni’s people went down
by means of great leather thongs tied together, none of them ever came
up again; no more was heard from them.” This is a good type of the
African rock-fortress.
On the 28th of November the attack was made, and was fully successful,
but some of the caves still held many who would not surrender, and
who preferred rather to die of thirst and starvation than give up
either themselves or their chief. The conduct of these warriors was
chivalric in its devotion to Sekukuni, who did not surrender until the
2nd December, and was then conveyed to Pretoria. There the 4th, 58th,
80th, the 1st Dragoon Guards, and Curling’s battery paraded for a
review of the largest body of regular troops yet seen in that town, and
Commandant D’Arcy as well as Privates Flawn and Fitzpatrick of the 94th
received the Victoria Cross. Sir Garnet Wolseley left the Transvaal
with a small garrison, and, he thought, at peace.
So it might have been had there been greater firmness and more tact
displayed after he left. But there was friction between the British
and the Dutch settlers, who had refused to remain under our rule
long years before. In 1845, three companies of the 91st and some
Cape Mounted Rifles defeated 500 Boers, who fled after making but a
faint resistance. Collision again occurred in 1848 at Boomplatz, the
second of a series of small conflicts which one by one have sought
to wrest from the Boers the territories they had conquered and in
part reclaimed. The tendency throughout had been to treat them as
only another sort of semi-barbarous occupant, to be got rid of when
their land was wanted by others. In this skirmish were engaged some
companies of the 45th, 91st, and Rifle Brigade, with two squadrons and
two guns, and they routed a Boer command, estimated at 1000 strong,
though strongly entrenched behind breastworks of piled stones. There
was but little loss on either side, and it is said that a drummer of
the 91st, tired of the long waiting, while the men were lying down
firing, himself beat the charge, and the men went in with cheers, and
the enemy fled without an effort to rally. Then they retired behind
the Vaal to form the Transvaal Republic, and in 1851 the Orange River
Territory, which had been annexed by us in 1848, was relinquished
to form the “Orange Free State.” But now for reasons that the
future historian will wonder at, we annexed the Transvaal. Our past
experience of the Boer had taught us nothing. Anyone who will read the
Parliamentary Blue Book and Colonel Brackenbury’s despatches must see
that war was inevitable. Yet, with a fair knowledge of what Boers were,
and with an idea of superiority which was to have a rude awakening, we
entered into a serious war with a light heart and with a force that was
insufficient to meet even a Zulu impi. The war is remarkable in every
way, primarily as the first instance, since the firearm was introduced,
in which regular soldiers came under careful, well-directed, aimed,
rifle fire, and were in every case beaten. The only parallel instance
is that of the war of American Independence. There also a people goaded
into fighting by wrong were victorious; and succeeded both because
the justice of their cause strengthened their moral fibre, and their
guerilla warfare, for it was often little else, was in many cases
accompanied by careful shooting. But the difference in the nature of
the weapons at the end of the eighteenth and that of the nineteenth
century is so great as to mark, by the heavy loss the defeated troops
sustained, the terrible nature of modern rifle fire when carefully
directed.
The Transvaal had been annexed in 1877, though in 1852 it had been
recognised as a free and independent State; the reason assigned, among
others equally unreasonable, being that the State was bankrupt. The
true Boer, the “Dopper,” is the descendant as much of French Huguenots
as of the Dutch employees of the East India Company. “They are,” writes
Sir William Butler, “a homely, sober, quiet, dull race of beings, as
full of faith in God and fair dealing between man and man as this
world holds sample of.” Doubtless there are many exceptions to their
character as thus drawn, but the vast majority agreed in one thing,
protest against the loss of their freedom. Meeting succeeded meeting,
appeal followed appeal. To threats of force the answer was, “We do not
rely upon regiments, but on right.” When, therefore, the storm burst,
there were but three battalions (the 21st, 58th, and 94th) of regulars
in the Transvaal, with a detachment of the 4th, a squadron of the
King’s Dragoon Guards, and a battery of artillery, while the nearest
reinforcements were the 3-60th in Natal, and the 91st at the Cape.
Hostilities began in this way. In December 1880, the 94th, about 250
strong, under Colonel Anstruther, was acting as convoy guard on the
road from Lydenberg to Pretoria. On crossing Brunker’s Spruit, they
were opposed by 150 Boers, who opened fire when Anstruther, on being
informed of the declaration of the Republic, refused to retire, and in
twenty minutes 120 men were _hors de combat_, of whom 7 were officers.
Mrs. Smith, the wife of the bandmaster, who was shot by her side, and
was herself wounded, behaved with the greatest gallantry in assisting
the wounded, and was afterwards given the silver medal for deeds of
gallantry on land. Meanwhile the isolated garrisons in the Transvaal at
Pretoria, Rustenberg, Wakkerstroom, Standerton, Heidelberg, Lydenberg,
Middleberg, Fort Victoria, Fort Albert, and Marabos Stadt, were more
or less invested, and the Boers, crossing the Natal frontier, placed
a strong force _à cheval_ the road from Newcastle to Standerton about
Laing’s Nek.
Open sympathy with the Boers increased rapidly and came from all
sources, the Cape, the Orange Free State, the Dutch in Holland, and
even Belgium. Every effort was made to bring about an understanding,
but all to no effect. The evil cry on our side, “Restore us our
prestige and then we will treat” prevented peace as yet. So a “relief”
column left Newcastle for Potchefstroom and Pretoria, under Sir George
Pomeroy Colley, consisting of detachments of the 58th, 60th, 2nd
Scots Fusiliers, and a naval brigade with 6 guns and 2 Gatlings, but
the total strength was not 1000 men. A purely frontal attack, by men
conspicuous with white helmets, against the steep and partly entrenched
position of the Boers at Laing’s Nek, on the 28th January 1881,
met with a severe reverse, 208 men being killed and 80 wounded. The
fighting had been close, for, as Joubert reports, “One of the officers
even fired in among our men with his revolver before he was shot, but
then the Lord helped us!”
The reverse was somewhat startling to those who thought there would be
no opposition. Two companies of the Gordon Highlanders were hurried up
to Mount Prospect Camp, between which and Colley’s base at Newcastle
ran the Ingogo River. It was south of this stream that the second fight
took place, and was brought about by despatching a force, including
some of the King’s Dragoon Guards and the 60th, to assist in covering a
convoy which was expected from Newcastle; but as the Boers had already
interposed between Newcastle and the Ingogo, it had returned to the
town. The ground favoured the tactical skill of the foe, “men who
could neither march, manœuvre, nor even form sections of fours, but
were resolute in heart, muscular in figure, and deadly marksmen, who
were accustomed to bring down the fleet springbok at full speed from
their saddles, and stalk all the great game with which Southern Africa
abounds.”
So the British loss was heavy. Most of the killed were shot through the
head as they essayed to fire over the boulders that sheltered them; the
two guns were soon disabled, and the wearied remnant returned to camp,
with a loss of 132 officers and men. Still, the men had behaved well
and coolly, and suffered no panic.
[Illustration: _Private 24^{th} Reg^{t} 1879_]
Meanwhile, reinforcements consisting of the 92nd, 2-60th, the 15th
Hussars, a naval brigade, and the Natal Police under Sir Evelyn Wood,
met Sir George at Newcastle. The additional cavalry had enabled the
general to make more extended reconnaissances round the Boer left,
which proved that they were still entrenching, and showed no signs of
wishing to avoid battle. On the evening of the 26th February, General
Colley played his last card, and lost his life as well. Contrary to
usual custom, he formed, with the utmost secrecy, a force to occupy
Majuba Hill, an isolated and precipitous koppie, which to a certain
extent dominated the right flank of the Laing’s Nek position. It was
made up of detachments of the Highlanders, the 58th, the 2-60th, and
65 bluejackets, in all some 545 bayonets. In the advance, made in the
dark, a company of the 92nd and one of the 60th, with a dismounted
troop of hussars, were left at a point about midway between the hill
and the camp, and the remainder stumbled on, and after great exertion,
about 5 a.m., reached the summit. This was a saucer-shaped plateau
about 1000 yards round, and when day broke, the presence of British
soldiers produced wild confusion in the Boer camp. But not for long.
While one portion hastened to man the trenches at Laing’s Nek, the rest
rode towards Majuba, and, dismounting, opened fire. It was said at
the time that the “covering party” consisted of the married men, the
storming column of the single men who could best be spared. Be that as
it may, between twelve and one the fire suddenly increased in intensity
and the assault was made. It was only too successful. The British
were driven from it in the utmost disorder, and left behind them Sir
George Colley and 18 other officers, with 218 men killed, wounded, or
missing, of about 600 men who had left Prospect Camp the night before.
One instance of devoted bravery marked the terrible day, and for it
Corporal Joseph John Farmer got the Cross for Valour, for, “while the
Boers closed with the British troops near the well, Corporal Farmer
held a white flag over the wounded, and when the arm holding the flag
was shot through, he called out that he had another. He then raised the
flag with the other arm, and continued to do so until that also was
pierced by a bullet.”
The Boer loss is stated, by themselves, to have been between 24 and
50, but the details are very conflicting. An armistice was soon agreed
to between the belligerents, during which the army, now commanded by
Sir Evelyn Wood, consisted of the 6th Dragoons, 15th Hussars, and
a squadron of the King’s Dragoon Guards, 14 guns, the 2nd and 3rd
Battalions of the 60th, the relics of the 58th, the 83rd, 92nd, and
97th, together with a naval brigade and some mounted infantry. Finally
peace was declared, and the beleaguered garrisons were relieved.
No war of such small magnitude, as far as the numbers engaged are
concerned, has left more grave results. For long years after the
peace was signed, the Boers showed the greatest arrogance towards all
British subjects, whether civilians or soldiers, and in many cases it
was accompanied with open and undisguised insult. The surrender of
the Transvaal was ruin to many an Englishman who, “confiding in the
public declaration of Sir Garnet Wolseley and Sir Bartle Frere that
the annexation of the Transvaal was irrevocable, had invested capital
in the country, and their property was now worthless and their capital
lost, owing to their having put faith in the words of Her Majesty’s
representative.” But the blame does not rest with him.
The disastrous war had cost in all 29 officers killed and 20 wounded,
and 366 men killed, with 428 wounded.
One result of the British defeat in the Transvaal was to increase,
not unnaturally, the restlessness of the Boers. Both Zululand and
Bechuanaland suffered from unauthorised incursions of what were
really filibusters, whose efforts at colonial expansion were too
frequently attended with murder. In one of these, against Chief
Montsoia, an Englishman named Bethel was barbarously murdered, and
hence an expedition was despatched, under Sir Charles Warren, to
Bechuanaland in 1884. An attempt had been made by the Boers to annex
Montsoia’s territory, which, by the Convention of 1884, was under
our Protectorate; there was no doubt, moreover, that the whole of
the disturbances had been directed from the Transvaal, and if not
distinctly fostered by that Government, met with its tacit approval.
But hostilities were happily averted. President Kruger met Sir Charles
Warren in conference, and the conflicting clauses were adjusted.
But the operations, insignificant as they may seem militarily, were
politically important. They, temporarily at least, restored the
position of Great Britain as the paramount power in South Africa. The
last collision in the Transvaal between Dr. Jameson’s troopers, led
by British officers, and the Boers of Pretoria, etc., was decisive in
another way; but it is not a part of the story of the regular army, and
is of too recent occurrence to be commented on here.
CHAPTER XIX
THE ARMY IN NORTH AFRICA--1867-96
Turn now from the southern portion of the Dark Continent to the
northern. The researches of recent explorers, such as Mr. Stanley and
others, had opened up the previously unknown interior to a much greater
extent than had been effected before their exertions.
Southern Africa, as far as its white immigrant population was
concerned, was extending its political limits northward. The Congo
Free State was attempting to bring European civilisation down towards
the equator. The ideas of “Hinterland,” a preposterous notion, had
been advanced. All nations were bent on pushing from the sea towards
the rediscovered Mountains of the Moon. All Europe was burning to
get authority over some portion of the African coast-line, and every
State, whether it had colonising power or not, burned to claim as much
ground behind the surf-clad beach as it could get. But before this
earth-hunger assumed the proportions it did, there had been trouble in
the north-eastern portion of Africa, though this case was rather one
of national honour and prestige than desire for the extension of our
“sphere of influence.”
A serious war-cloud had arisen in Abyssinia, the forerunner of the many
disturbances which by degrees have since led to the opening up of the
heart of Africa to commerce. Abyssinia had seemed a promising field
for our trade, and Consul Cameron was despatched there to represent
the British Government and protect as far as possible the missionaries
who followed and preceded him. But Theodoros, the Negus, or emperor,
was a man of violent passions, and both tyrannical and a drunkard. He
fancied himself insulted because the British Government took no notice
of a letter he had addressed to the Queen. He told Consul Cameron
that she “can give you orders to visit my enemies, but she cannot
return a civil answer to my letter to her.” So he quarrelled with his
visitors, and threw them into prison. To save their lives, if possible,
and avenge the insult to the nation through our representative, an
expedition was fitted out under the command of Sir Robert Napier. It
was about 10,000 strong, and well equipped. It was largely composed of
Indian troops, stiffened by the 3rd Dragoons, and the 4th, 26th, 33rd
and 45th Regiments of the line, with artillery and Engineers.
The general plan of the campaign was simple; it was to release the
prisoners, defeat the emperor if he would fight, and destroy his
capital of Magdala. The difficulties were regarded as mainly physical.
The country was “a broken Libyan highland. Abyssinia is what a vaster
Switzerland would be, if transported to the tropics, and if bordered by
blazing deserts on each flank of its cool rocky peaks.” The climate was
reported good, the people warlike; their weapons were firearms, with
shields and swords, or lances. They had no field artillery, but some
heavy guns were reported to be at Magdala. The landing was effected at
Zoola, where two companies of the 33rd were the first to get on shore,
and pushed on to garrison the first depôt or post at Senafé, on the
borders of the territory of King Kassa of Tigre, who readily agreed not
to oppose, but to some extent assist, the invading army.
Hard as the advanced party of Engineers and Pioneers worked at
improving the road, the advance was slow and laborious. “We have
scaled,” says Henty, “mountains and descended precipices; we have
traversed along the face of deep ravines, where a false step was death;
we are familiar with smooth, slippery rock and with loose boulders;
and after this expedition it can hardly be said that any country is
impracticable for a determined army to advance. I hear, however, that
between us and Magdala there are perpendicular precipices running like
walls for miles, places which could scarcely be scaled by experienced
cragsmen, much less by loaded mules.” When within twenty-five miles in
a direct line from Magdala, and when the place was clearly visible,
they had to make a detour of sixty miles to avoid these obstacles.
But the valley of the Bachelo was reached, and descending 3800 feet
on one side by a fair road, the stream was forded, and the ascent of
the opposite side of the enormous ravine was begun. On reaching the
first level, fire was opened from the hill fortress, and a serious
sortie was made by a large irregular mass of infantry and cavalry. The
army was almost taken at a disadvantage. The nature of the country had
tended to lengthen the column, and there were but few troops up to the
front; but the Naval Brigade rocket-battery came into action, with the
4th, some Engineers, two companies of the 10th Native Infantry and a
squadron of the 3rd Native Cavalry had to bear the first brunt of the
first battle. It was enough, however, and the fighting did not last
long under the breechloading fire of the 4th, the first time the Snider
had been used in actual war. This disposed of one of the two bodies
into which the enemy had been divided; the other made for the baggage
defended by some of the 4th and the Punjaubees, supported by the steel
mountain battery of Colonel Penn, known therefore as the “Steel Pens,”
and the Abyssinian rush was checked by shell fire at 300 yards, and
the deadly fire of the breechloading rifle. The enemy fell back badly
beaten, while our own loss was only 30 men wounded and none killed. Of
about 5000 men who had rushed boldly to the attack of the head of the
British column, the bulk were destroyed or dispersed, and the ground
was covered with dead and wounded. The expenditure of ammunition was
serious. In one hour nearly ninety rounds per man had been discharged.
The next day came the “Easter Monday Review,” as the soldiers termed
it, and the storm of Theodore’s stronghold. Scaling ladders were
improvised from the bamboo dhooly-poles, and the handles of the
pioneers’ axes. But they were not needed. The guns and rockets opened
on the devoted fortress, and the storming column, formed of the
33rd, with Major Pritchard and the Engineers in front, the 45th in
support, and the remainder in reserve, pushed up the narrow path to
the entrance. Here, while efforts were made to break open the gate
(for the powder required for the purpose had been forgotten), some of
the 33rd managed to scramble up the side of the path, turned the flank
of the defenders of the barrier, and when a second gate at the top of
a steep flight of steps was destroyed, the place was taken. The loss
had been most slight, but the vengeance taken on a bloodthirsty tyrant
was complete. Theodore himself committed suicide, his fortress was
burned and destroyed, his queen died in our camp at Senafé, and Prince
Alamayu, his son, was taken to England. There he eventually became a
cadet at the Royal Military College, Sandhurst; and, dying of pneumonia
in 1880, was buried, by royal command, just outside the Royal Chapel of
St. George at Windsor.
With further researches and interest in Africa, and the greater
enterprise resulting from them, came the desire for more possessions
which would afford valuable outlets for our trade.
The finding of the sources of the Nile, the discovery of the Great
Lakes, the possibility of valuable gold-fields, the comparative
healthiness of the African uplands in the interior, all emphasised
again the future value of the great water way which drained those
inland seas, and terminated in the Egyptian Delta. It is to some
extent now, and might be one day fully made, the natural highway to
the heart of the Dark Continent. Directly or indirectly, politically
or instinctively, possibly both, the value of Egypt as the doorway
to Ethiopia became prominent. Probably no statesman really saw it at
first. But “there is a Providence that shapes our ends, rough hew them
how we will,” and the road to Central Africa from this side seems to be
only opened by the sword.
So dismissing the Eastern littoral and Zanzibar, where the question of
the penetration of the interior is far more a question of railways,
so as to get over the fever belt, than one of soldiers, the land of
Egypt became a serious factor in the awakening of Africa; as it was a
serious factor in Mediterranean politics when Pharaoh was king. But
the employment of the British army in Egypt in 1884 rose from what
most people would call a mere accident. It is possible that nothing is
seriously “accidental.” But while British interference in Egypt in the
first years of the century was due entirely to our war with France, our
present interference seems to have come from an instinctive feeling as
to the importance of securing, and teaching Egypt to improve, the one
natural highway to the uplands of the centre of Africa.
Theoretical as this may be, the practical fact of our second
interference in the land of Egypt, by landing there, arose from a very
simple cause. The Khedive of Egypt, Prince Tewfik, had made as his
Minister of War a turbulent and somewhat imperious soldier who aimed
certainly at a species of military dictatorship, if not at the supreme
power. Beloved by the Egyptian soldiery, and possessing some military
knowledge, he posed as a patriot, with the cry of “Egypt for the
Egyptians.” Between Mehemet Ali and Arabi there is but one difference.
The former succeeded, the latter failed. Nevertheless, such conduct,
with such a people, tended in the direction of anarchy. Anarchy might
at any time endanger the security of the Suez Canal, in which Great
Britain had an important pecuniary interest, and which was, moreover,
her shortest and best route to her Eastern possessions. Both France
and England claimed to have vital interests in the Nile Valley, and
at first there was an apparent accord between the two nations, to the
extent that a combined naval demonstration was made at Alexandria. In
this, however, the English ironclads very largely preponderated.
Riots and massacres on shore at once broke out. The native press was
bitterly hostile to England. Nor was it likely to be otherwise. No
self-respecting nation brooks foreign interference. Neither of the
Powers most interested would have admitted for a second of time such
interference at home; and Egypt being too weak to offer a formidable
resistance, only added bitterness to the native feeling of impotency.
Doubtless, only the most energetic sections of the people were
seriously in earnest. The vast mass of the people, the Fellahin, were
certainly more anxious about their daily bread than political freedom.
But so it is, and has been everywhere, in such popular revolts against
foreign domination. The heaven-born leaders lead, by their very force
of character; the mass follows. Whether such revolutions are for the
best, according to outside opinion, has nothing to do with the matter,
except only as regards the extent to which political revolt affects
foreign interests, which are mainly selfish.
All this the Egyptian leaders may have felt; and, admitting the
inherent corruption of all Eastern governments, and even the ambition
of those who seek to raise the storm, and not reap but guide the
whirlwind, there is nothing extraordinary in the effort made by those
who brought on the war against foreign interference to take the
government of their own country out of the hands of stranger powers.
Be all this as it may, it was decided by Europe, nominally, to coerce
the Egyptians; euphuistically, to help the Khedive against an armed and
threatening insurrection. The bombardment of Alexandria was decided on;
but the French warships steamed out to sea, and refused to co-operate.
The heavy fire of the ships soon silenced the shore batteries, and then
the seamen and marines were landed to save what was left of the town
from pillage. These were soon reinforced by battalions of infantry from
Malta.
Preparations were at once made for the despatch of considerable
reinforcements from home, and an Indian contingent, among which were
the Seaforth Highlanders and the 1st Manchester Regiment, was prepared
for despatch from India to the seat of war. Arabi made no effort to
oppose the military occupation of Alexandria, but contented himself
with strongly fortifying the position at Kafr ed Dowr, the neck of land
between Lakes Mareotis and Aboukir Bay. Some desultory skirmishes then
took place on the neutral ground between the city and the enemy’s lines.
The main expedition, under the command of Lieutenant-General Sir Garnet
Wolseley, embarked in August 1884 for the front. It consisted of the
First Division under General Willis, composed of the 2nd Battalion
Grenadier, the 2nd Coldstream, and the 1st Scots Guards, and the (18th)
2nd Royal Irish, the (84th) York and Lancaster, and (87th) Royal Irish
Fusilier Regiments, and the (50th) 1st West Kent, with two squadrons
of the 19th Hussars, the (46th) Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry,
and two batteries of artillery, with details. The Second Division,
commanded by Sir Edward Hamley, was formed of the 42nd, 75th, 79th, and
74th (or the Royal, Gordon, and Cameron Highlanders, with the Highland
Light Infantry), and the (35th) Sussex, (88th) Stafford, (49th)
Berkshire, and (53rd) Shropshire Light Infantry, with two squadrons of
the 10th Hussars, the 3-60th, and two batteries of artillery, etc.,
as divisional troops. The Cavalry Brigade contained three squadrons
of the Household Cavalry, and the 4th and 7th Dragoon Guards, with
Horse Artillery, etc., under Sir Drury Lowe. The Corps-Artillery
under General Goodenough had one battery of horse and three of field
artillery. Engineers and train were added in requisite proportion. An
ironclad train was also used during the operations outside Alexandria.
It was soon evident, however, that the frontal attack on the
enemy’s fortified position would be costly and, even if successful,
ineffective, as driving the Egyptian army back on the capital, which
it was necessary to seize. It was therefore decided to effect a change
of base; and, while deceiving the enemy by openly proclaiming that the
army was to be transferred to Aboukir Bay, to tranship the bulk of the
force to Ismailia, and move thence across the desert by the Sweet-water
Canal on Cairo. The several points on the Suez Canal were therefore
suddenly and rapidly seized by the fleet; the Seaforth Highlanders,
from India, advancing from Suez, seized Chalouffe, on the fresh water
Canal; and the bulk of the troops sailed for Ismailia. In so doing,
Sir Garnet, with a caution that in the conduct of so delicate an
operation was entirely justifiable, left Sir Edward Hamley, who took
command of Alexandria, in ignorance of what his real plan was, until
after the fleet had sailed. The controversy as to whether this was
right or not has, however, been warm and embittered.
The landing was rapidly accomplished, and after a brief delay the
mounted troops, with the York and Lancaster Regiment and the Royal
Marine Light Infantry, were pushed forward to Magfar and Tel el
Maskhuta, where a sharp skirmish took place with a force of all arms
about 7000 strong, and two batteries. Another took place the next day
near Mahsameh, and Tel el Maskhuta was occupied, with an advanced post
at Kassassin lock; behind these the army strung out along the line of
the Sweet-water Canal, as a forward movement in force was not possible
until sufficient stores had been collected in depôts well ahead, and
this, under the conditions of the ground, was necessarily a slow
operation.
While in this position the first “affair” of Kassassin was fought, in
which were engaged the Royal Marine Artillery, the Duke of Cornwall’s
Light Infantry, and the York and Lancaster Regiment, with a few cavalry
and artillery; and one peculiarity was a Krupp gun taken from the canal
and mounted on a truck, and worked by a detachment of Royal Marine
Artillery under Captain Tucker. The Royal Marine Light Infantry arrived
during the fight, and late in the evening the Household Cavalry and 7th
Dragoon Guards came up from Mahsameh and charged the Egyptian left.
As stores were pushed to the front, so the First Division became
concentrated between Maskhuta and Kassassin; and on the 29th August,
the Highland Brigade, under Alison, was, with Sir Edward Hamley,
ordered to Ismailia, leaving Sir Evelyn Wood with his brigade at
Alexandria, to watch the Kafr ed Dowr lines until the conclusion of
hostilities.
Early in September reinforcements were despatched to strengthen
Alexandria and protect the direct line of communications from Ismailia.
Here matters were still at a standstill, owing to the unavoidable
difficulties of transport; and frequent reconnaissances, involving
an occasional skirmish, were made towards Tel el Kebir, where the
enemy were now known to be in strength and heavily entrenched. That
this point was that in which a decisive battle for the possession of
the Delta might have to be fought, had been recognised before the
expedition left England. On the 9th, Arabi made his last offensive
effort on both sides of the canal, bringing on the second battle of
Kassassin; and on this occasion the troops he brought from Tel el
Kebir were reinforced by a force of five battalions from Salahieh to
the north; but the fighting was not severe and the loss on both sides
insignificant, while in retiring, the Egyptians abandoned three guns,
two of which were taken by the Royal Marine Light Infantry.
The army was now concentrated within striking distance of the first
objective, the defeat of the Egyptian army under Arabi. Repeated
reconnaissances had shown that in front of the village of Tel el
Kebir was a long line of entrenchments, the right resting on the
canal, the left, some four miles out _en l’air_ in the desert.
The desert, absolutely treeless, and without marked undulations,
afforded absolutely no cover, and to cross the fire-swept approach
against entrenched troops would have caused serious loss. Sir Garnet,
therefore, decided on making a night march to get within charging
distance, and thus inaugurated on a large scale the system of night
attacks, which, as a distinguished soldier long since remarked, will,
if properly prepared for and organised by a nation, cause it to win the
next great war.
The ground favoured the operation, but the distance was not
inconsiderable, and the danger of that unreasoning panic which
sometimes seizes the best troops was always present. At anyrate, any
manœuvring in the dark or the early dawn was out of the question. The
army must march in the order in which it was going to fight, and
therefore each battalion had one half in first and the other half in
second line, either marching in line formation or in line of companies
in column of fours at deploying interval, from which lines could
speedily and readily be formed. Extended order was not required for the
rush into the entrenchments which the general planned. It was not to be
a fire-action, but a shock-battle such as the Peninsula saw.
[Illustration: _Formation of the Line of Battle at Tel-el-Kebir,
13^{th} Sept^{r} 1882._]
Willis’s First Division was on the right, to it having been added
the battalion of Royal Marine Light Infantry, the Guards being in
second line, and the Cavalry and Horse Artillery on the right to sweep
round the enemy’s flank and threaten his retreat. In the centre was
Goodenough’s Artillery, acting both as a link to the two divisions,
and yet separating them. If panic in one wing did occur, this might
prevent its spreading to the other. On the left, the Highland Brigade
was in first line, and Sir Edward Hamley’s Division, the other brigade
of which was with Wood at Alexandria, was completed by a weak brigade
under Ashburnham, made of the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry and
the King’s Royal Rifles. In reserve were the Royal Marine Artillery
and 19th Hussars; with the reserve ammunition was one company of the
West Kent; on the railway, the armoured train with a 40-pounder worked
by bluejackets; the West Kent guarded the stores at Kassassin; and
along the line of communication to Ismailia were other troops. The
army started at 1.30 a.m. on the early morning of the 13th September;
the Indian Contingent, the Seaforths leading, moving off on the other
bank of the canal an hour later, so as not to alarm the inhabitants of
the small hamlet on that side, and so give Arabi earlier warning than
need be of the impending attack. The total strength was about 11,000
infantry, 2000 cavalry, and 60 guns. Halting for a few minutes at about
1000 yards from the enemy, the lines advanced, with the right, however,
rather thrown back, and then suddenly a storm of fire ran along the
long line of parapet, and when about 300 yards from it, with a wild
cheer, the Highland Brigade began the storm. There was much stubborn
fighting while it lasted, but in half an hour the enemy were beaten,
and flying in hot haste and great disorder towards Zagazig, pursued by
the cavalry and the Indian Brigade. The battle had cost 9 officers and
48 men killed, with 27 officers and 385 men wounded or missing.
Pushing on rapidly with the 4th Dragoon Guards and the Indian cavalry,
Sir Drury Lowe seized Cairo, and Arabi surrendered. This practically
ended the war, and on the very date fixed by Sir Garnet, before he left
England, for its probable conclusion.
The isolated garrisons at Tanta and elsewhere were disarmed, and
when on the 17th it was found that the works at Kafr ed Dowr were
deserted, they were occupied by the Berkshire and Shropshire Regiments
of Sir Evelyn Wood’s brigade, which had been further strengthened by
the Manchester and Derbyshire Regiments. So the army returned home,
leaving, besides artillery and the 7th Dragoon Guards and the 19th
Hussars, the (35th) Sussex, (38th) Stafford, (42nd) Black Watch, (49th)
Berkshire, (53rd) Shropshire, the 3rd King’s Royal Rifles, the (74th)
Highland Light Infantry, (75th) Gordons, and (79th) Camerons as a
garrison for Cairo, and the 2nd (18th) Royal Irish, the (46th) Duke of
Cornwall’s, and a wing of the (50th) West Kent, to hold Alexandria.
For the war a medal with clasp for Tel el Kebir was granted by the
British Government and a bronze star by the Khedive; while numerous
Turkish and Egyptian orders were distributed. Sir Garnet Wolseley was
made a peer, and the names, “Egypt, 1882-84,” and “Tel el Kebir” were
placed on the colours or appointments of the regiments which had served
in this campaign.
* * * * *
The reorganisation of the Egyptian army was now commenced by British
officers, and Sir Evelyn Wood was its first Sirdar; but this command
was kept distinct from that of the British troops in the two great
cities, which were under General Stevenson.
Meanwhile, trouble had long been brewing in the Sudan, which had been
originally conquered by Mehemet Ali. There were many insurrections
of more or less importance, and the people were ripe for still more
serious revolt. The advent of Mohammed Ahmed, the son of Abdullah the
carpenter and Amina his wife, whose name, therefore, agreed with those
of the parents of the Prophet, as the expected Mahdi, whose mission it
was to convert the whole world, gave the opportunity, and one in which
religious fanaticism was added to patriotism. There were many small
skirmishes, with varying success, at first; but still the movement
increased, and soon El Obeid was captured, Hicks Pasha, with about 7000
men, was totally defeated, and his army practically destroyed. Next
General Gordon was appointed Governor-General of the Sudan and took up
his residence at Khartum, and a further advance of the Mahdieh resulted
in the fall of Berber and the investment of the capital of the Sudan.
Then it was that serious preparation for its relief by a British army
was seriously undertaken. As far back as April 1884, Lord Wolseley had
considered that General Gordon could not hold out later than the 15th
November. The nature of the opposition to be expected had, however,
been already tested in the independent series of operations that long
took place around Suakin on the Red Sea littoral. Suakin was the port
to Berber, but between the two places was an almost waterless desert,
inhabited by hostile tribes of the greatest bravery.
The fighting there had commenced this way. A slave trader, Osman Digna
by name, had heard of the Mahdi’s success, and saw an opportunity of a
revolt of his own with the warlike sept of the Hadendowas. He invested
Sinkat, which fell, and its garrison was massacred. He threatened both
Tokar and Suakin, and when to relieve the former Baker Pasha marched
out from Trinkitat with nearly 4000 Egyptians, he was badly beaten,
for the troops showed no fight at all. This aroused the attention of
the home authorities. A British force was formed, under Sir G. Graham,
and moved from Trinkitat, defeating the Sheikhs at El Teb, taking six
guns and a Gatling, and killing 2100 men; but Tokar had already fallen.
The troops engaged were the 19th and 10th Hussars, the Black Watch,
Gordon Highlanders, the Royal Irish Fusiliers, the York and Lancaster
Regiments, the Royal Marine Light Infantry, with a Naval Brigade and
some Artillery. They advanced in a hollow square, the Gordons leading;
and, leaving detachments at Trinkitat and Fort Baker (at the end of the
causeway across the salt marsh that nearly surrounds the town), the
small army moved against the Arabs entrenched around the wells of El
Teb. The fighting was severe and desperate, but discipline and weapons
soon told. The enemy’s guns were abandoned, and one taken by the Royal
Marine Artillery was manned by the men under Captain Tucker and turned
on the enemy, who fled finally towards Tokar. The loss to the British
force had been 22 officers and 167 men killed and wounded.
After marching to Tokar, the force returned to Suakin, and as Osman
Digna had collected a large force some miles outside the town, it was
again decided to disperse them. Sir G. Graham formed the small army
in two squares: that on the left, which led, under General Davis, had
its front and flank faces formed by the Royal Highlanders and the York
and Lancaster Regiments, with the Royal Marines in the rear face, and
the Naval Brigade with Gatlings in the centre; on the right rear,
echeloned, was General Buller’s Brigade, having the Gordon Highlanders
and the Royal Irish Fusiliers in the front and flank faces, and the
King’s Royal Rifles in rear, inside being the 7-pounder guns. The
squares were about 1000 yards apart, and between them was a battery of
9-pounders, while the left flank was covered by the Hussars.
The enemy was met with in the deep ravine, or “Khor,” of Tamai, and
early opened a brisk fire. Replying with a needlessly hot fire, which
enveloped the troops in smoke, the square of General Davis made a rush
with the front face and breaking up its close formation, the Arabs
rushed into the gaps between the front and flank faces. For a time it
was a scene of wild confusion. The British, fighting steadily still,
with bullet and steel, fell back in some disorder, abandoning the guns,
but they soon rallied, and the advance of the other square enabled it
to re-form. The edge of the ravine was reached, and the leading square
crossed it, with a cheer, to occupy Osman Digna’s camp, and disperse
such of the enemy as were still there. Thirteen officers and 208 men
had been killed and wounded on the attacking side.
Little was done after this for a while. The force returned to Suakin,
and afterwards occupied and burned the village of Tamaneb with little
opposition. Then the bulk of the troops were withdrawn, leaving the 3rd
King’s Royal Rifles and a battalion of Royal Marines to garrison Suakin.
The Nile expedition for the relief of Gordon had now begun, and it
was still, for a while, designed to take Berber and advance thence
on Khartum. To communicate with the coast at Suakin from Berber was
evidently advisable, but the district was almost waterless, and a
railway was of primary importance. Furthermore, the destruction of
Osman Digna’s power there was essential to its construction, let alone
that to attack him would effect a useful diversion, and weaken the
Dervish strength which might otherwise collect in the Nile Valley.
A second expedition was hence despatched to Suakin under Sir G. Graham.
It consisted of a Guards Brigade (3rd Grenadiers, 1st Coldstream, and
2nd Scots), and a second brigade of the 2nd East Surrey, 1st Shropshire
Light Infantry, 1st Berkshire, and Royal Marines, with two squadrons
5th Lancers, two of the 20th Hussars, some mounted infantry, Royal
Engineers, and three batteries of artillery. In addition, there was a
strong Indian Contingent and a volunteer force from New South Wales.
The enemy was known to be at Tamai, to the south-west, and at Hasheen
to the west of the town, and by the latter the railway, which was to
be made by English contractors, was to run. The first move, therefore,
was the defeat of the force at Hasheen, and for this purpose the whole
force, with the exception of the Shropshire Light Infantry, marched
and formed in one square, of which the front face was held by the
Marines and Berkshire Regiment (the Surrey was detached to cover a
working party on some hills to the right front), the left flank by the
Indian Brigade, and the right by the Guards. The rear was open, and the
artillery, and the camel transport occupied the centre. The operations
resulted in the temporary dispersion of the Hadendowas, with a loss on
our side of 9 officers and men killed and 39 wounded. Throughout the
enemy displayed the most reckless bravery, and an utter indifference to
death.
It was now necessary to attack Osman Digna’s main force at Tamai,
and for this purpose it was intended to establish an intermediate
post on the road to that place, as one had been made at Hasheen. The
force detailed to cover the work was under Sir J. M’Neill, and, made
up of the Indian Contingent, one squadron of the 5th Lancers, with
the Berkshire Regiment, the Royal Marines, etc., was formed into two
squares. On reaching the open space of Tofrik, a zareba was commenced,
the two angles of which were held by the Berkshires and Marines in
two squares, while the Indian Contingent formed a large rectangle in
between, covering the huge mass of camels and transport.
The mimosa bush was very dense, and little could be seen even by the
cavalry, who were pushed out _en vedette_ in front. While in some
confusion a sudden attack was made by the enemy. Crawling under the low
trees until within charging distance, they reached the squares in small
groups with their usual headlong gallantry. So fierce was the assault
that the 17th Native Infantry broke, and for a while, with stampeded
animals rushing to and fro, and with the Mahdieh cutting and stabbing
in all directions, matters looked grave. But determined courage and
discipline at length triumphed, and the enemy sullenly withdrew,
leaving behind him 1500 dead. The loss on our side was 150 officers,
men, and camp followers killed, 148 missing, and 174 wounded, in a
fight that lasted just twenty minutes.
The remaining operations around Suakin have little interest. Tamai was
reached, and found to be abandoned; and numerous petty skirmishes
occurred in protecting the construction of the railway, which was
getting near Handub. But with the eventual abandonment of the Nile
expedition that of Suakin followed. On the 17th May the troops
commenced to withdraw. They had had a severe time of it, with the
thermometer at 120° in the tents, and constant disturbances night after
night from the enemy. He was by no means to be despised. He combined
the courage of the fanatic who saw heaven in view if he fell in battle
with the infidel, with the most determined physical bravery. Few men
want more killing than those Arabs of the Sudan. No one has added them
up better than Rudyard Kipling when he says--
“’E rushes at the smokes when we let drive,
An’, before we know, ’e’s ’ackin’ at our ’ead;
’E’s all ’ot sand and ginger when alive,
An’ ’e’s generally shammin’ when ’e’s dead.
’E’s a daisy, ’e’s a ducky, ’e’s a lamb,
’E’s a injia-rubber idiot on the spree;
’E’s the on’y thing that doesn’t give a d--n
For a regiment o’ British Infantree!
So ’ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your ’ome in the Soudan.
You’re a pore benighted ’eathen, but a fust-class fightin’ man;
An’ ’ere’s _to_ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your ’ayrick ’ead of ’air,
You big black boundin’ beggar--for you broke a British square!”
To commemorate the services of the army in this portion of the theatre
of war, clasps for Suakin 1885, El Teb, Tamai, and Tofrik, were given
with the ordinary Egyptian war medal.
* * * * *
But a more important series of operations had been taking place at the
same time as these troublesome affairs on the shores of the Red Sea.
The relief of Gordon had, after fatal delays and indecision on the
part of the Government, been, with apparent reluctance, decided on,
and in supreme command was placed Lord Wolseley. Notwithstanding that
many authorities advocated the Suakin-Berber line of approach, he,
throughout, had resolutely insisted that the Nile Valley was the only
practicable way of reaching the Sudan, because of the difficulties both
of roads and water supply.
Lord Wolseley arrived in Cairo on the 9th September, and proceeded to
organise the concentration of a sufficiently powerful force about Korti
and Ambigol (south of Dongola), whence one, “the river” column, could
be despatched to seize Berber, assisted to some extent by the force
operating at Suakin against Osman Digna, and the other, the “desert”
column, could make its way across the Bayuda Desert, by a known track
way indifferently furnished with water, to Metemmeh on the Nile
opposite Shendy, and about midway between Berber and Khartum.
A camel force had also been formed, and was divided into four parts,
the Heavy Camel Regiment (from the Household and seven other cavalry
regiments), the Light (made up of detachments of light cavalry men),
the Guards (from the brigade, and to which the Royal Marines were
attached), and the Mounted Infantry Camel Regiment (men selected from
different line regiments).
The general plan of the desert march was to form posts at the wells of
Howeryat, Jakdul, and Abu Klea, and seize Metemmeh, forming at the same
time a strong depôt at Jakdul. The first move was made at 3 a.m. on
the 30th December, and Jakdul was occupied, garrisoned, and the camels
returned for stores, etc., but it was the 8th January before the force
definitely started on its mission. It was composed of a Naval Brigade
under Lord Charles Beresford, one squadron 19th Hussars, the Guards,
Heavy and Mounted Infantry Camel Regiments (the Light was employed
chiefly in guarding convoys), half battery Royal Artillery, Royal
Engineers, 400 men of the Royal Sussex Regiment (of whom 150 were to
be left at Jakdul), one company of the Essex Regiment for the Howeryat
post, with “details”; in all about 120 officers and 1900 men, exclusive
of natives, camel-drivers, etc. The whole was under the command of Sir
Herbert Stewart. The force left Jakdul at 2 p.m. on the 14th January,
and on the 16th got touch of the enemy near Abu Klea wells, but too
late for fighting that day. At 9 a.m. the following day, square was
formed with camels in the centre, the front angles being formed by
the Mounted Infantry, the Guards Camel Regiment, with the Artillery
between, and the rear angles by the Heavy Camel Regiment and the Royal
Sussex Regiment, with the Naval Brigade in the middle of the rear face.
The cavalry were left free to act outside; the sick and baggage were
left in a zareba guarded by some of the Royal Sussex; and the square,
covered by skirmishers, then advanced against the enemy’s line, which
was some half mile long, and marked by flags. Though the skirmishers
helped to check the enemy’s fire, which had already caused casualties,
they were in the way of the defensive power when the Arab rush was
made. It was executed with “lightning rapidity, and into gaps formed
by the lagging back of the camels the Arab spearmen poured. The fight
was sharp and desperate.” Within the square the din of battle was such
that no words of command could be heard, and each man was obliged to
act on the impulse of the moment. The enemy’s “formation was curious,
a sort of variety of the old phalanx. It was as if there were portions
of three phalanxes, with rows of men behind. At the head of each rode
an Emir or Sheikh with a banner, accompanied by personal attendants,
and then came the fighting men. They advanced at a quick, even pace,
as if on parade.” And this before the breechloading fire! The “fine
old Sheikh on horseback,” who planted his banner in the middle of the
broken square, had advanced “with his banner in one hand and his book
of prayers in the other.” He “never swerved to the right or left, and
never ceased chanting his prayers until he had planted his banner in
our square.” Such bravery is worthy of all admiration, and well may
Sir Charles Wilson say, “If any man deserved a place in the Moslem
paradise, he did.” It was sheer hard hand-to-hand work for a brief
space, and then the square re-formed, with its late antagonists falling
suddenly back, leaving only their dead. Short as the affair was, 9
officers and 65 men were killed, and 9 officers and 85 men wounded;
a serious loss. On the other hand, 1100 Arab dead were counted near
the square, and their loss in wounded too was severe. Before moving
on, a small fort was built here to contain the wounded, guarded by
100 men of the Royal Sussex, and when this was completed, Sir Herbert
marched at 4 p.m. on the 18th for Abu Kru. The guide was one Ali Loda,
a local freebooter. But night marches, however advisable under such
conditions as Tel el Kebir, are bad with wearied men. The soldiers in
this case were exhausted, and did not get within measurable distance
of the river, so that between them and water lay the Arab host. Laager
was then formed to protect the transport; and was garrisoned by some
of the Heavies, the 19th Hussars, the Artillery and Naval Brigade.
Then the square moved toward the enemy, not without skirmishes, and
while halting for breakfast the enemy’s fire increased, and Sir Herbert
received the wound which afterwards proved fatal. At 3 p.m. the advance
was resumed, and the Arabs charged as before. But the men were cooler
than in the previous action, and none of the enemy got within 100 yards
of the square, and in five minutes the Arabs broke and fled. Thereupon
the wearied British reached the wished-for stream and bivouacked. The
loss had been 1 officer and 22 men killed, and 8 officers and 90 men
wounded.
Sir C. Wilson was now in chief command, and made a reconnaissance in
force of Metemmeh; but he judged that to storm it would be both costly
and inadvisable, and therefore returned to the zareba at Gubat, to meet
the Egyptian Government steamers from Khartum. Then ensued a brief
delay, necessary to make arrangements for the security of the camp,
and also because of the general exhaustion of the men. Sir Charles,
therefore, first proceeded down stream beyond Metemmeh, to ensure
that there was no force advancing from the north in addition to what
might be reasonably expected to arrive from the south, and then turned
back, halting for a while at Gubat, and finally reached the immediate
neighbourhood of Khartum, to find that all was over. It had fallen,
and Gordon had been killed; so, running the gauntlet of guns and
rifles, the small flotilla returned to Gubat, but both steamers were
sunk and a fresh one had to be sent up. The story of this adventure
well merited the telegram received by Sir Charles at Korti from the
Secretary of State for War: “Express warm recognition of Government of
brilliant services of Sir Charles Wilson and satisfaction at gallant
rescue of his party.”[70]
On his return from Khartum, he started for Korti, and on his report,
Sir R. Buller was despatched to take command of the desert column,
which was to be reinforced by the Royal Irish and West Kent Regiments;
but it was soon afterwards decided to abandon the effort to crush the
power of the Mahdi, and the small army withdrew by degrees to Korti,
with but little molestation on the way. During the march, however, Sir
Herbert Stewart succumbed to his wound, and was buried near Jakdul.
Like his namesake, who had been with Gordon and was murdered when going
down the river at Hebbeh, his loss to the army was serious. “What an
ill-fated expedition this has been!” writes Sir C. Wilson. “The whole
Sudan is not worth the lives of men like Gordon and the two Stewarts.”
In the meantime, the river column had been pushing on, and had its tale
to tell. Under the command of General Earle, it was made up of one
squadron 19th Hussars, the South Staffordshire Regiment, the Duke of
Cornwall’s Light Infantry, the Black Watch, and the Gordon Highlanders,
with some Egyptian artillery and Camel Corps, etc. The Essex Regiment
was, at first, to hold the line of communication of this force between
Merowi and Abu Hamed, but the idea had to be abandoned.
The force marched on the 24th, the mounted troops by land, the
remainder in the boats, and there was a small skirmish at Berti; but on
the news of the fall of Khartum, the force halted for further orders
near Dulka Island; and while there, news was received that the enemy,
some 1500 strong, had advanced out of the Shukuk Pass and taken up a
position at Kirbekan.
As it was still determined to seize Berber, in which operation it was
proposed, if possible, to employ the remains of the desert column,
General Earle was directed to push on again; and, finding the enemy
still blocking the road to Abu Hamed, whence there is a track across
the desert to Korosko, he turned the enemy’s left flank and attacked
him in flank and rear. The battle was mainly a fire-action, there being
only one partial charge of the Arab spearmen; and with the charge of
the Highlanders, pipes playing, the enemy were turned out of the rocky
hill land on which they were posted, and at the very end of the fight,
General Earle was killed, with 2 other officers and 7 men, while 4
officers and 43 men were wounded. The troops engaged had been the
Staffordshire Regiment, Black Watch, Egyptian Camel Corps, and the
Artillery. On the 20th February, however, the column, now commanded by
General H. Brackenbury, was recalled, in accordance with the decision
to attempt no further operations until after the hot season. But even
this plan was given up by orders from home; and on the 11th May, Lord
Wolseley was ordered to withdraw the troops from the Sudan. This was
successfully effected, but, as might be expected, the Arab leaders
pushed on. Kassala was occupied by Osman Digna from Suakin, and
Dongola by the Mahdieh from Khartum. Near this, the town of Kosheh was
invested, and the small action of Ginnis was fought in December 1885,
the last skirmish of the first Sudan War. Throughout, the enormous
physical and administrative difficulties had been successfully met; the
conduct of the men, both in battle and on the march, left nothing to be
desired. That Lord Wolseley and the expedition failed in their primary
object of relieving Khartum and saving Gordon’s life was no fault of
theirs. They did all that men could, and the blame rests only on the
head of a weak Government, that could not make up its mind until it
was too late. Yet “the siege of Khartum lasted for three hundred and
seventeen days--only nine less than the great siege of Sebastopol,
in which General Gordon first saw active service. For more than ten
months the wild tribes of the Sudan were kept in check by the genius,
the indomitable resolution, and fertile resources of one man; and, long
after the controversies of the present day have been forgotten, the
defence of Khartum by General Gordon will be looked on as one of the
most memorable military achievements of modern times.”[71]
A medal was given for the campaign, with clasps for Kirbekan, Abu
Klea, and Abu Kru; and the rank of viscount was bestowed on the
Commander-in-Chief of the two expeditions, those of the Nile and
Suakin. Never was honour more justly bestowed.
CHAPTER XX
THE ARMY AS IT IS
Few changes have been made in the drill or manœuvres of the army
since 1880, except in the direction of reducing the number of the
latter, and simplifying and giving freedom of action in the former.
Greater attention is now paid to practical instruction, and to the
value of continued training in marching, coupled with care for the
soldiers’ feet, after the day’s march, and clothing. Thus the truth of
Wellington’s remark is recognised, that “battles are as much won by
feet as by arms.”
Examinations for promotion are more searching, selection for
appointments to command the rule rather than the exception; while every
possible care is taken to ensure the retention of men who know their
work. Sir Evelyn Wood bears evidence that “in tactical skill, officers
of all ranks have improved to a very great degree; but the improvement
in military spirit, in eagerness to learn, and to submit cheerfully to
great physical discomforts is even more remarkable, and this spirit
reacts naturally on the lower ranks.”
The armament of all arms is altering. In the cavalry the front ranks
of all heavy and medium regiments are armed with the lance, as well
as sword and carbine, and only the hussars retain the two latter for
both ranks. Every effort is being made to lighten the enormous weight a
cavalry horse has to carry.
The artillery re-armed with a steel breech-loading, chambered,
12-pounder gun, has a very high velocity, and hence a very flat
trajectory. This, for many purposes admirable, lessens the “searching”
effect of artillery fire, and in foreign armies howitzer batteries and
even field-mortar batteries are being experimented on.
Quick-firing guns are openly advocated for field service, and high
explosives will render iron or steel turrets and stone fortifications
both vulnerable, and dangerous to the defenders. Of late years, not
only has Shoeburyness continued its useful work as the great centre of
experimental work with large and small guns, but Okehampton has been
utilised as a practice-ground for field artillery under conditions
approximating to those of actual war.
The use of smokeless powder has changed in many ways the tactical
application of the three arms. It is no longer easy to estimate
exactly the extent of front of a battery of guns, nor even its exact
position, nor can the fact of its fire being diminished by loss
be so readily ascertained as when the smoke gave the information
wanted. So, throughout the field generally, there is no smoke screen
to hide the assailants from view, and greater exposure may involve
more serious loss in attack. Similarly, the length of the enemy’s
line of battle, and the extent to which it is occupied, will so far
perplex the attacking commander, that unnecessarily wide turning
movements may be expected, with consequent loss of time. Furthermore,
the friction caused by the velocity of the cordite gas, with its
naturally chemically corrosive action, tends to destroy barrels, and
so render, earlier than heretofore, the weapon inaccurate. As regards
the infantry, they have been armed with a Lee-Mitford small-bore rifle,
with a calibre of ·303 inch, and having a muzzle velocity with cordite
of 2000 feet a second, and a consequent range of 1900 yards. The long
bayonet has been replaced by a short dagger, not unlike the first
pattern of “plug-bayonet” which fitted into the muzzle of the arquebus.
The weapon has an extremely flat trajectory, but it is improbable that
the small diameter of the bullet would stop an Arab rush unless it
found its billet in a vital part. Its penetration into wood is such
that simple stockades, or even old brick walls, would be vulnerable
before the new rifle. The number of rounds carried in the magazine is
ten. Much stress is now laid on “field-firing” against targets with
unknown ranges, arranged as far as possible under service conditions.
Long-ranged fire, even up to 3000 mètres, has been tried in France, but
in England there is a tendency, with many officers, to deprecate the
use of small-arm ammunition at extreme ranges.
The general direction of the improvement in firearms is to lessen the
size of the bore and increase the flatness of the trajectory. Thus
the high-angled fire of the Snider, converted from the muzzle-loading
Enfield, was changed for the Martini-Henry, in every way a more deadly
weapon, and this, as has been already remarked, has given way to an
even smaller bored rifle. And with the increased rapidity of fire and
the larger number of rounds of the lighter ammunition that can be
carried, the bayonet, that was lengthened in 1878, was reduced to its
present dimensions.
Muzzle-loading guns have been replaced by breech-loaders, and the steel
muzzle-loading guns used in Abyssinia by screw guns, which can be put
together and fired within a minute from the time the two mules, which
carry the parts, halt.
Machine guns, such as the Gatling, Gardner, and Nordenfeldt, will
probably give way to the automatic Maxim.
Since the campaign of 1870 to 1871, greater attention has been paid to
visual signalling by flag or flash, and the field telegraph is much
more actively employed, and accompanies, as far as possible, the army
up to the point of attack.
In England, considerable attention has been paid to night marching and
night attacks, as being the only method under favourable circumstances
of crossing, unseen, the fire-swept zone now so much more extended than
formerly.
Balloons, captive and free, form part of the equipment of an army
corps, and officers are trained both in their use and in reconnoitring
from them. They were employed in the operations round Suakin, but are
difficult to manage in windy weather, as they found on that occasion.
Uniform has altered little, but helmets were issued in 1877 to all
but Highland and Fusilier Regiments; and since that date the Rifle
headdress has been restored, as well as the peculiar shako of the
Highland Light Infantry. Badge and rank chevrons were formerly worn
by all light infantry regiments on both arms, but this was abandoned,
though the old 43rd still wore them up to 1881.[72] The abolition
of purchase in 1872 rendered the army possibly more professional,
but certainly not, as was imagined, less expensive. It destroyed,
however, the “right” claimed by officers who had purchased to different
treatment from that which would naturally follow under a non-purchase
system. Curiously enough, the alteration was hardest on the poor man
who rose from the ranks, as he, on his retirement, frequently received
a large sum for the “regulation” and “over regulation” price of his
commission.
* * * * *
But the two greatest changes have been the introduction of short
service, and the territorialisation of the regiments of the army; both
of which measures have opponents as well as friends.
There is much misconception about the former, certainly. Its enemies
quite forget that there was practically no alternative, that we are
living in the end of the nineteenth century, not the beginning. The
so-called Long Service Act of 1847, with its ten years’ service for the
first period with the colours, and the right, if of good character, to
extend it to twenty-one years for pension, did not provide sufficient
recruits for a meagre army, and, as the Crimea proved, gave not only
an insufficient number of men, but no reserves at all. When peace was
signed, we had boy soldiers in the ranks much as we have now, many of
the older men having perished; yet they fought well, as they always
have done. Outside the first line there were foreign legions and
militia, and that was all. The times even then were past since an
army of 25,000 men was considered a respectable command for a serious
European war; and the change in the conditions is even greater now,
with all Europe an armed camp, and the armies themselves counting as
many thousands as they did hundreds “when George the Third was king.”
Nor was the longer service Act of 1867 any better. It gave twelve years
with the colours and nine of re-engaged time to obtain pension. But the
army then was more under its proper strength annually than before.
The plain fact is, that an army of even the dimensions of our own
cannot attract a sufficient number of recruits for so long a period
as ten or twelve years. You can get enough men to do so for a force a
few thousands strong, like the Royal Marine Corps, but not for an army
which has to put in fifteen or sixteen years in such climates as some
parts of India or Burmah.
Short service was inevitable, and since its introduction the army
has rarely, I believe never, been below its numerical strength.
The question of reserves, important as that is, and of good
non-commissioned officers is quite beside the question. Neither would
be worth a row of pins without a sufficient number of men, however
young, in the ranks. Besides, if serious war comes, the same method
will be adopted that was in vogue in the much-belauded long service
days. Battalions were weeded then as they are now, and though they had
permanently a larger proportion of older men in the ranks to stiffen
the regiments, the same stiffening can always be got from the reserves
whenever it is wanted. Our previous system gave us nothing, absolutely
nothing, to fall back on; our present system gives us, if we want them,
some 100,000 old soldiers whom we can claim as a right.
No one prefers boy soldiers to stout men. No one for choice would take
very young men for sergeants. But if the State will not offer greater
inducements, if the nation will not pay the cost, then you must do the
best you can with the materials you can purchase in the open labour
markets of this country.
Lord Wolseley, whose experience of war in all its aspects is second to
none, has always expressed himself in terms of the strongest approval
of our young soldiers, who have done their duty so well, and without a
murmur, and yet are maligned by those who ought to know better.
In his last despatch from the Nile, in June 1885, he thus refers to
the lads who had undergone the severe strain of the campaign, and with
comparatively so little loss. “It is a source of great pride to me as
a soldier, and of satisfaction as a British subject, that upon each
fresh occasion when I am brought in contact with Her Majesty’s troops
in the field, I find the army more efficient as a military machine than
it was the last time I was associated with it on active service. This
improvement is evident in all grades and in all arms and departments,
but it is, I think, more marked in the rank and file. Military
spirit--the essence of military efficiency--is now established in our
army in a higher form and on a sounder basis than formerly. I attribute
the improvement in moral tone that undoubtedly exists, in no small
degree, to the abolition of flogging, and I believe that amongst the
officers who have lately had practical experience in the field, even
those previously in favour of retaining the lash as a punishment on
active service, now fully recognise that many advantages have resulted
from its total abolition. The soldier is prouder of himself and of his
calling than he used to be, and his self-esteem has also been raised by
the healthy feeling of liberty arising from the knowledge that if the
army does not suit his tastes, he can easily quit it, instead of being
bound to it for ten or twelve years. Our rank and file are morally
better, and militarily more efficient, than formerly. The general
conduct and bearing of our men in the Sudan left nothing to be desired,
and was not only creditable to the British army, but should be also a
just source of pride to the British nation.”
Nor in comparison with foreign armies equally on a peace footing is
there anything to complain of as regards the length of service of the
men serving, for out of battalions of between 500 and 600 men there
were in British battalions 245, in German 59, and in French but 23
men of three years’ service and upwards. Similarly, the Continental
recruit ranges in height from 5 feet to 5 feet 1½ inches, with a chest
measurement of 30.8 inches, but with an age of 20 years; while our
“boys” of 18 have a height of 5 feet 4 inches, with a chest of 33
inches.
Even the cry that reservists cannot find employment is an exaggeration,
as the report of Lord Wantage’s Committee shows; for it was proved that
of 32,700 reservists, 75 per cent. were in regular employ.
Turning to the territorialisation of the regiments, there again must be
necessarily conflicting opinions. Those who think regimental prestige
is lost with a name, must have a very poor opinion of what prestige
really is. Have the navy no _esprit de corps_? And yet theirs is for
their _profession_, not for H.M.S. _Bacchante_ or the _Melpomene_.
It must not be forgotten, too, that many of the existing regiments
have borne other numbers. Has their efficiency been lessened because
they had to put 82 instead of 83 on their forage caps in past years?
Doubtless it is not worth while changing for changing’s sake; but
when administration is simplified, the working of the short service
system (which is in a sense forced on us) and recruiting improved, then
those who object must show a better case than that of objection merely
because they don’t like it.
There is the strongest evidence that the bulk of the men not only don’t
care about the dead and gone numbers, but prefer the territorial title.
In the presence of some officer, whose enthusiasm clings like ivy round
the past glories of the “Onety-oneth,” they may, for obvious reasons,
express themselves differently; but, when alone, they do as everybody
else does, outside a small and decreasing group of men who live, as
archæologists do, in a dead past, and use the local name, which to them
has a more distinct meaning.
Of course it is to be regretted that the army is not strong enough to
do the foreign service it is called upon to perform; that of the two
battalions, now tied together as they were formerly linked, one cannot
always be at home. But that simply comes from the numerical weakness
of the army, and has nothing to do with the system. True, the home
battalion is practically a secondary depôt, and why not? So long as the
foreign, and often active service, battalion is strong, what does it
matter?
So the army in 1881 was territorialised, as it had previously been
linked. The linking was less symmetrical than the new plan, for two
battalion regiments like the 17th were formerly linked with a single
battalion like the 45th. As far as possible, too, battalions that had
during their regimental history been formed in the same or neighbouring
districts were joined under the same designation. There were of course
difficulties, and ludicrous ones at times, as when the 100th Royal
_Canadians_ are united with the 3rd _Bombay_ European Regiment to form
the _Leinster_ Regiment; but these are of no great moment now, and will
be quite forgotten in another fifty years.
But more than grouping battalions of the regular army together is the
uniting in one common bond the other parts of our fighting strength.
The addition of militia to the regiment, and of the volunteers to the
same, both promotes a real and wider _esprit de corps_, and facilitates
recruiting in every way. To hear a Hampshire volunteer say he is
leaving his volunteer battalion to “join our fighting battalion,”
meaning thereby the 1st regular battalion then on foreign service,
expresses very fully the union that, given time and patience, will
eventually exist between all branches of our fighting strength.
Hence, therefore, rightly or wrongly, as opinions differ, the army
is divided into English regiments with white facings, Scotch (4
Battalions) with yellow facings, and Irish (1 Battalion) with green
facings; but the Royal Irish and the Scottish Rifles have dark green,
all Royal Regiments blue, the East Kent Regiment buff, the Rifle
Brigade black, and the King’s Royal Rifles scarlet facings. Similarly
the garrison artillery are partially territorialised, but the cavalry
are not so.
The latest change in the administrative branches is the conversion of
the formerly noncombatant “Commissariat and Transport Department” into
the combatant “Army Service Corps,” and the officering of that force by
selected officers after a searching course of training and examination.
Much more serious attention is paid, too, to the food of the soldier
and military hygiene generally. A quarter of a century ago the ration
of bread and meat was eked out by a grocery ration limited both in
dimensions and variety. Now, without extra cost to the soldier, and
solely by better management and better cooking, he fares not as well
as, but better than, many a family in civil life of presumably a better
position. Thus the weekly dietary, in a company of a line regiment at
Aldershot not long since, comprised for breakfast a selection (every
day having a fresh combination) from tea, cocoa, porridge and milk,
bloaters, rissoles, bacon, brawn, corned beef, and cold boiled bacon;
for dinner, pea soup, roast meat stuffed, potatoes, Irish stew, plain
suet pudding, barley soup, meat pies, brown curry and rice, currant
rolls, lentil soup, baked meat, haricot beans, sea pies, rice pudding
and Yorkshire pudding; and for tea, marmalade, dripping, soused
herrings, cheese, kippers, and jam. Not only is the dietary therefore
more varied and appetising, but the men trained at the cookery school
are fully qualified to cook it properly.
In other respects the army has altered little. The profession is
naturally conservative, and does not care to try new armour unless
it has proved it. But the story of the army tells this--that in two
hundred years it has increased from 3000 men to nearly 667,000 putting
aside local colonial troops and our admirable Indian army. This number
is composed of
Regular Army 216,688
Army Reserve 80,000 }
Militia Reserve 30,000} 110,000
Militia 75,000
Volunteers 255,000
Yeomanry 9,500
Of this force, about 110,000 of the regular troops are serving abroad
and the remainder at home; while, though no new regiments have been
added since 1870, the army has increased in number by 29,000 men, and
this without the faintest opposition. All the former dread of it,
whether real or affected, has passed away. In place of it has grown up
the feeling that it has won the nation’s affection, and has earned and
holds its confidence.
Meanwhile, in many a small matter of daily life there is a survival of
long-forgotten military ideas. The acts of courtesy of removing one’s
hat or shaking hands with an ungloved hand are, after all, but baring
the unarmoured head and using the unmailed, and therefore friendly,
hand. With the soldier’s salute, the dropping of the sword-point is
exposing the unguarded breast, the “present arms” but offering the
power of firing the weapon to the person saluted. Passing right hand
to right hand is but being on one’s guard, and having the power of
easily standing on the defensive. Even the two useless buttons on the
back of the man’s coat may be but the survival of the means whereby the
sword-belt was kept up.
In the names of bachelor, esquire, and soldier live those of _bas
chevalier_ (inferior knight), _escuyer_, and _solde_, or pay. In the
expression “pulling the long bow” survives the spirit of some of the
tales told by stout yeomen over strong ale. In the fantastic flourishes
that surround the helmet and shield in the painted coat-of-arms is seen
still the mantling that covered the tilting _heaulme_.
The army is as much part of the social and national life of England as
its commercial marine, or its police force. It does the same duty on a
large scale for the former as do the latter on a smaller scale in civil
life. It protects the commercial enterprise of our merchant princes,
finds new outlets for our manufacturers. It guards our seaports at home
and abroad; it assists the civil police against the proletariat, and
that without creating real hostility.
It represents the fighting spirit that has made the nation what it is
and has enlarged its boundaries. It has given us what without its aid
would have been impossible--external and internal safety.
And, most of all, it has preserved unsullied our national honour. Where
the flag flies over British fighting men, there our lads behave as
becomes true Englishmen, and face death fearlessly. The spirit that
braced the nerves of the men of Lincelles, Albuhera, and Inkerman lives
still in their descendants, and those who fought and fell before the
Arab rush at Abu Klea may well stand in the nation’s esteem side by
side with our heroes of the past.
APPENDIX I
THE PRINCIPAL CAMPAIGNS AND BATTLES IN WHICH THE BRITISH ARMY
HAVE BEEN ENGAGED SINCE 1658.
Aboukir 8th March 1801
Abu Klea, Sudan 17th January 1885
Abu Kru, Sudan 19th January 1885
Abyssinia 1867-68
Aden 19th January 1839
Afghanistan 1841-42
Afghanistan 1878-80
Agra 17th October 1803
Ahmedabad 12th August 1780
Ahmednuggur 12th August 1803
Ahmed Kehl 19th April 1880
Albuhera 16th May 1811
Alexandria 21st March 1801
Ali Musjid 21st Nov. 1878
Aliwal 28th January 1846
Alkmaar 6th October 1799
Allyghur 4th Sept. 1803
Alma 20th Sept. 1854
Almanara 28th July 1710
Almanza 14th April 1707
Almaraz 19th May 1812
Almeida 26th August 1810
Amboyna 17th Feb. 1810
America 1775-81
Amoaful 31st January 1874
Antwerp 5th May 1814
Arcot 31st August 1751
Arcot 31st October 1780
Argaum 29th Nov. 1803
Arnee 2nd June 1782
Arroyo des Molinos 28th October 1811
Ashanti 1874
Assaye 23rd Sept. 1803
Asseerghur 8th April 1819
Aughrim 12th July 1691
Ava 24th Feb. 1826
Badajos 6th April 1812
Balaklava 25th October 1854
Baltimore 11th Sept. 1814
Banda 8th March 1810
Bangalore 21st March 1791
Barcelona 1705 to 8th May 1706
Barrosa 5th March 1811
Bayonne 22nd Feb. to 14th April 1814
Belleisle 7th June 1761
Benevente January 1809
Beni-Boo-Ally 2nd March 1821
Bergen 19th Sept. 1799
Bergen-op-Zoom 8th March 1814
Bhurtpore 2nd April 1805
Bhurtpore 18th January 1826
Bidassoa 7th October 1813
Bladensburg 24th August 1814
Blenheim 13th August 1704
Bothwell Brig 22nd June 1679
Bouchain 13th Sept. 1711
Bourbon 21st Sept. 1809
Boyne 1st July 1690
Brandywine 11th Sept. 1777
Brooklyn 27th August 1776
Brunx 28th October 1776
Buenos Ayres 28th June 1806
Buenos Ayres 5th July 1807
Bunker’s Hill 17th June 1775
Burmah 1824-26
Burmah 1852-53
Burmah 27th Sept. 1810
Bushire 10th Dec. 1856
Buxar 23rd October 1764
Cabool 12th October 1842
Camden 16th August 1780
Campen 15th October 1760
Campo-Mayor 25th March 1811
Candahar 10th March 1842
Candahar 1st Sept. 1880
Canton 5th Jan. 1858
Cape of Good Hope September 1795
Cape of Good Hope 9th January 1806
Cape of Good Hope 1846-47; 1850-53; and 1877-79
Carthagena April 1741
Cateau 26th April 1794
Cawnpore 17th July 1857
Caya 7th May 1709
Central India 1857-58
Charasiah 5th October 1879
Chateaughay 26th October 1813
Cherbourg 5th August 1758
Chillianwallah 13th January 1849
China 1840-43
China 1856-60
Chrystler’s Farm 11th Nov. 1813
Ciudad Rodrigo 19th January 1812
Condore 8th December 1758
Coomassie 4th Feb. 1874
Copenhagen 2nd April 1801
Copenhagen 8th Sept. 1807
Corbach 10th July 1760
Corsica 17th June 1794
Corunna 16th January 1890
Crimea 1854-55
Crabbendam 10th Sept. 1799
Cuddalore 13th July 1783
Culloden 16th April 1746
Deig 13th October 1804
Delhi 11th Sept. 1803
Delhi 20th Sept. 1857
Denkern 15th July 1761
Detroit 16th August 1812
Dettingen 16th June 1743
Dominica 22nd Feb. 1805
Douay 25th June 1710
Douro 12th May 1809
Dunkirk 17th Sept. 1793
Egmont-op-Zee 2nd October 1799
Egypt 1801
Egypt 1882
El Bodon 25th Sept. 1811
El Teb 29th Feb. 1884
Emsdorf 16th July 1760
Famars 23rd May 1793
Ferozeshah 22nd Dec. 1845
Flushing 15th August 1809
Fontenoy 30th April 1745
Freehold 28th June 1778
Fuentes d’Onoro 5th May 1811
Germantown 3rd October 1777
Ghent 30th Sept. 1708
Ghuznee 23rd July 1839
Ghuznee 6th Sept. 1842
Gibraltar 10th March 1705
Gibraltar 22nd Feb. 1727
Gibraltar 5th February 1783
Ginghilovo 2nd April 1879
Goojerat 21st February 1849
Grenada 24th March 1796
Guadaloupe February 1810
Gueldermalsen 8th January 1795
Guildford 15th March 1781
Hashin 25th March 1885
Havannah 14th August 1762
Helder 27th August 1799
Hulst 5th May 1747
Hyderabad 24th March 1843
Ingogo 8th Feb. 1881
Indian Mutiny 1857-59
Inkerman 5th November 1854
Ionian Islands 12th October 1809
Isandula 22nd Jan. 1879
Java 18th Sept. 1811
Jellalabad 7th April 1842
Kambula 29th March 1879
Kassassin 28th Aug. 1882
Khelat 13th Nov. 1839
Kirbekan 10th Feb. 1885
Kirkee 5th Nov. 1817
Kooshab 8th February 1857
Laing’s Nek 28th Jan. 1881
Leswaree 1st Nov. 1803
Lexington 19th April 1775
Liège 23rd October 1702
Lincelles 18th August 1793
Lisle 23rd October 1708
Llerena 11th April 1812
Louisburg 26th July 1758
Lucknow July to Nov. 1857
Lucknow 21st March 1858
Maestricht 2nd July 1673
Magdala 13th April 1868
Maharajpore 29th Dec. 1843
Maheidpore 21st Dec. 1817
Maida 4th July 1806
Maiwand 17th July 1880
Majuba Hill 27th Feb. 1881
Malavelly 27th March 1799
Malplaquet 11th Sept. 1709
Malta 5th Sept. 1800
Mandora 13th March 1801
Mangalore September 1783
Manilla 5th October 1762
Marabout 21st August 1801
Martinique 5th February 1762
Martinique 16th March 1794
Martinique 7th March 1809
Masulipatam 1769
Matagorda 22nd April 1810
Mauritius 2nd Dec. 1810
Meeanee 17th Feb. 1843
Miami 5th May 1813
Minden 1st August 1759
Minorca 1708
Minorca 29th June 1756
Minorca 5th February 1782
Minorca 15th Nov. 1798
Monte Video 3rd February 1807
Moodkee 18th Dec. 1845
Mooltan 2nd January 1849
Morales 2nd June 1813
Moro (Havannah) 14th August 1762
Nagpore 24th Dec. 1817
Namur 20th August 1695
Neer-Hespen 18th July 1705
Neer-Landen 19th July 1693
New Orleans 13th January 1815
New Zealand 1861-63
Niagara 1814
Nieuport 24th October 1793
Nile 1884-85
Nimeguen 8th Nov. 1794
Nive 9th to 13th December 1813
Nivelle 10th Nov. 1813
Nundydroog 18th October 1791
Orthes 27th February 1814
Oudenarde 11th July 1708
Pegu 21st Nov. 1852
Pekin 12th October 1860
Peninsula 1808-14
Persia 1856-57
Perak 1875
Pewar Kotal 2nd Dec. 1878
Plassy 23rd June 1757
Plattsburg 11th Sept. 1814
Pondicherry 23rd August 1793
Porto Novo 1st July 1781
Prestonpans 21st Sept. 1745
Punniar 29th Dec. 1843
Pyrenees 2nd August 1813
Quatre Bras 16th June 1815
Quebec 13th Sept. 1759
Queenstown 13th October 1812
Ramillies 23rd May 1706
Rangoon 5th May 1824
Rangoon 14th April 1852
Rediuha 11th March 1811
Reshire 9th December 1856
Roliça 17th August 1808
Rolicund
Rorke’s Drift 22nd Jan. 1879
Rosetta 21st April 1807
Roucoux 1st October 1746
Sabugal 3rd April 1811
Sahagun 21st Dec. 1808
Salamanca 22nd July 1812
San Sebastian 31st Aug. 1813
Saragossa 20th August 1710
Savendroog 21st Dec. 1791
Schellenburg 2nd July 1704
Scylla 17th January 1809
Sedgmoor 6th July 1685
Seringapatam 15th May 1791
Seringapatam 6th February 1792
Seringapatam 4th May 1799
Sevastopol 8th Sept. 1855
Sholingur 27th Sept. 1781
Sillery 28th April 1760
Sobraon 10th Feb. 1846
Steenkirk 24th July 1692
Stillwater 19th Sept. 1777
St. John’s 13th Nov. 1775
St. Lucia 28th Dec. 1778
St. Lucia 4th April 1794
St. Lucia May 1796
St. Lucia 22nd June 1803
St. Sebastian 31st August 1813
St. Vincent 14th February 1797
Suakin 1885
Surinam 30th April 1804
Taku Forts 21st August 1860
Talavera 27th and 28th July 1809
Tamai 13th March 1884
Tangier 1680 to 1683
Tarbes 20th March 1814
Tarifa 31st Dec. 1811
Tel el Kebir 13th Sept. 1882
Ternate August 1810
Ticonderoga 8th July 1758
Tofrik April 1885
Tongres 10th May 1703
Toulon 19th Dec. 1793
Toulouse 10th April 1814
Tournay 10th Sept. 1709
Tournay 18th May 1794
Transvaal 1881
Ulundi 4th July 1879
Umbeylah or Ambela 1865
Val 20th June 1747
Valenciennes 28th July 1793
Venloo 23rd Sept. 1702
Villers en Couche 24th April 1794
Vimiera 21st August 1808
Vittoria 21st June 1813
Walcourt 25th August 1689
Wandewash 22nd January 1760
Warbourg 31st July 1760
Waterloo 18th June 1815
Wilhelmstahl 14th June 1762
Wynendale 28th Sept. 1708
York Town 19th October 1781
Zululand 1879
APPENDIX II
LIST OF REGIMENTS, WITH THEIR FORMER NUMBERS AND THEIR PRESENT
TITLES, IN ORDER OF PRECEDENCE
--------------------+------------------------+--------------------------
NAME. | FORMER TITLE.[73] | PRESENT TITLE.
--------------------+------------------------+--------------------------
_Cavalry._ | |
| |
The Life Guards. | First and Second | The same
The Royal Horse | The “Blues” | ”
Guards | |
1st Dragoon Guards | The King’s | ”
2nd ” | Queen’s Bays | ”
3rd ” | Prince of Wales’s | ”
4th ” | Royal Irish | ”
5th ” | Princess Charlotte of | ”
| Wales’s |
6th ” | Carabiniers | ”
7th ” | Princess Royal’s | ”
1st Dragoons | Royal | ”
2nd ” | Royal North British | Royal Scots Greys
| (Scots Greys)[74] |
3rd Hussars | The King’s Own | The same
4th ” | The Queen’s Own | ”
5th Lancers | Royal Irish | ”
6th Dragoons | Inniskilling | ”
7th Hussars | The Queen’s Own | ”
8th ” | The King’s Royal Irish | ”
9th Lancers | The Queen’s Royal | ”
10th Hussars | The Prince of Wales’s | ”
| Own Royal |
11th ” | Prince Albert’s Own | ”
12th Lancers | The Prince of Wales’s | ”
| Royal |
13th Hussars | None | None
14th ” | The King’s | The same
15th ” | The King’s | ”
16th Lancers | The Queen’s | ”
17th ” | None | The Duke of Cambridge’s
| | Own[75]
18th Hussars | ” | None
19th ” | ” | Princess of Wales’s Own
20th ” | ” | None
21st ” | ” | ”
| |
_Infantry._ | |
| |
Grenadier Guards | 1st, 2nd, and 3rd | The same
| Battalions |
Coldstream ” | 1st and 2nd Battalions | ”
Scots Fusilier[76] ”| 1st and 2nd Battalions | ”
1st Regiment | The Royal | The Royal Scots (Lothian
| | Regiment)
2nd ” | The Queen’s Royal | (Royal West Surrey
| | Regiment)
3rd ” | East Kent--The Buffs | (East Kent Regiment)
4th ” | The King’s Own Royal | (Royal Lancaster
| | Regiment)
5th ” | Northumberland | The same
| Fusiliers |
6th ” | Royal 1st Warwickshire | The Royal Warwickshire
| | Regiment
7th ” | Royal Fusiliers | (City of London Regiment)
8th ” | The King’s | (Liverpool Regiment)
9th ” | East Norfolk | The Norfolk Regiment
10th ” | North Lincolnshire | The Lincolnshire Regiment
11th ” | North Devonshire | The Devonshire Regiment
12th ” | East Suffolk | The Suffolk Regiment
13th ” | Prince Albert’s Light | The Prince Albert’s
| Infantry | (Somersetshire Light
| | Infantry)
14th ” | Buckinghamshire | The Prince of Wales’s Own
| | (West Yorkshire
| | Regiment)
15th ” | Yorkshire East Riding | The East Yorkshire
| | Regiment
16th ” | The Bedfordshire | The Bedfordshire Regiment
17th ” | Leicestershire | The Leicestershire
| | Regiment
18th ” | The Royal Irish | The Royal Irish Regiment
19th ” | 1st Yorkshire North | The Princess of Wales’s
| Riding | Own[77] (Yorkshire
| | Regiment)
20th ” | The East Devonshire | The Lancashire Fusiliers
21st ” | Royal North British | Royal Scots Fusiliers[78]
| Fusiliers |
22nd ” | The Cheshire | The Cheshire Regiment
23rd ” | Royal Welsh Fusiliers | The same
24th ” | The 2nd Warwickshire | The South Wales Borderers
25th ” | The King’s Own | The King’s Own Scottish
| Borderers | Borderers
_N.B_--All these regiments had two battalions.
26th Regiment | The Cameronian | 1st Cameronians (Scottish
| | Rifles)
27th ” | Inniskilling | 1st Royal Inniskilling
| | Fusiliers
28th ” | North Gloucestershire | 1st Gloucestershire
| | Regiment
29th ” | Worcestershire | 1st Worcestershire
| | Regiment
30th ” | Cambridgeshire | 1st East Lancashire
| | Regiment
31st ” | Huntingdonshire | 1st East Surrey Regiment
32nd ” | Cornwall Light Infantry| 1st Duke of Cornwall’s
| | Light Infantry
33rd ” | Duke of Wellington’s | 1st West Riding Regiment
34th ” | Cumberland | 1st Border Regiment
35th ” | Royal Sussex | 1st Royal Sussex
36th ” | Herefordshire | 2nd Worcestershire
| | Regiment
37th ” | North Hampshire | 1st Hampshire Regiment
38th ” | 1st Staffordshire | 1st South Staffordshire
| | Regiment
39th ” | Dorsetshire | 1st Dorsetshire Regiment
40th ” | 2nd Somersetshire | Prince of Wales’s
| | Volunteers, 1st South
| | Lancashire Regiment
41st ” | The Welsh | 1st Welsh Regiment
42nd ” | Royal Highland (Black | 1st Black Watch (Royal
| Watch) | Highlanders)
43rd ” | Monmouthshire Light | 1st Oxfordshire Light
| Infantry | Infantry
44th ” | East Essex | 1st Essex Regiment
45th ” | Nottinghamshire | 1st Sherwood Foresters
| (Sherwood Foresters) | (Derbyshire Regiment)
46th ” | South Devonshire | 2nd Duke of Cornwall’s
| | Light Infantry
47th ” | Lancashire | 1st Loyal North
| | Lancashire Regiment
48th ” | Northamptonshire | 1st Northamptonshire
| | Regiment
49th ” | Princess Charlotte of | 1st Royal Berks Regiment
| Wales’s (Herts) |
50th ” | The Queen’s Own | 1st Royal West Kent
| | Regiment
51st ” | 2nd Yorkshire, West | 1st King’s Own (Yorkshire
| Riding (the King’s | Light Infantry)
| Own Light Infantry) |
52nd ” | Oxfordshire Light | 2nd Oxfordshire Light
| Infantry | Infantry
53rd ” | Shropshire | 1st The King’s
| | (Shropshire Light
| | Infantry)
54th ” | West Norfolk | 2nd Dorsetshire
55th ” | Westmoreland | 2nd The Border
56th ” | West Essex | 2nd Essex
57th ” | West Middlesex | 1st Duke of Cambridge’s
| | Own (Middlesex)
58th ” | Rutlandshire | 2nd Northamptonshire
59th ” | 2nd Nottinghamshire | 2nd East Lancashire
60th ” | King’s Royal Rifle | The same
(4 battalions) | Corps |
61st Regiment | South Gloucestershire | 2nd Gloucestershire
62nd ” | Wiltshire | 1st Duke of Edinburgh
| | (Wilts)
63rd ” | West Suffolk | 1st Manchester
64th ” | 2nd Staffordshire | 1st The Prince of Wales
| | (North Staffordshire)
65th ” | 2nd Yorkshire, North | 1st York and Lancaster
| Riding |
66th ” | Berkshire | 2nd Princess Charlotte of
| | Wales’s (Royal Berks)
67th ” | South Hampshire | 2nd Hampshire
68th ” | Durham Light Infantry | 1st Durham Light Infantry
69th ” | South Lincolnshire | 2nd Welsh
70th ” | Surrey | 2nd East Surrey
71st ” | Highland Light | 1st Highland Light
| Infantry | Infantry
72nd ” | Duke of Albany’s Own | 1st Seaforth Highlanders,
| Highlanders | Ross-shire Buffs (The
| | Duke of Albany’s)
73rd ” | Perthshire | 2nd Black Watch (Royal
| | Highlanders)
74th ” | Highland Regiment | 2nd Highland Light
| | Infantry
75th ” | None[79] | 1st Gordon Highlanders
76th ” | None | 2nd Duke of Wellington
| | (West Riding)
77th ” | East Middlesex | 2nd Duke of Cambridge’s
| | Own[80] (Middlesex)
78th ” | Highland Regt. | 2nd Seaforth Highlanders
| (Ross-Buffs) | (Ross-shire Buffs),
| | The Duke of Albany’s
79th | Cameron Highlanders | Queen’s Own Cameron
(1 battalion)[81] | | Highlanders[82]
80th Regiment | Staffordshire | 2nd South Staffordshire
81st ” | Loyal Lincoln | 2nd Loyal North Lancaster
| Volunteers |
82nd ” | Prince of Wales’s | 2nd Prince of Wales’s
| Volunteers | Volunteers (South
| | Lancaster)
83rd ” | County Dublin | 1st Royal Irish Rifles
84th ” | York and Lancaster | 2nd York and Lancaster
85th ” | Bucks Volunteers | 2nd The King’s
| (King’s Light | (Shropshire Light
| Infantry) | Infantry)
86th ” | Royal County Down | 2nd Royal Irish Rifles
87th ” | Royal Irish Fusiliers | 1st Princess Victoria’s
| | (Royal Irish Fusiliers)
88th ” | Connaught Rangers | 1st Connaught Rangers
89th ” | Princess Victoria’s | 2nd Princess Victoria’s
| | (Royal Irish Fusiliers)
90th ” | Perthshire Volunteers | 2nd Cameronians
| (Light Infantry) | (Scottish Rifles)
91st ” | The Argyleshire | 1st Princess Louise’s[83]
| Highlanders | (Argyle and Sutherland
| | Highlanders)
92nd ” | Gordon Highlanders | 2nd Gordon Highlanders
93rd ” | Sutherland Highlanders | 2nd Princess Louise’s
| | (Argyle and Sutherland)
94th ” | None | 2nd Connaught Rangers
95th ” | Derbyshire | 2nd Sherwood Foresters
| | (Derbyshire)
96th ” | None | 2nd Manchester
97th ” | Earl of Ulster’s | 2nd Queen’s Own (Royal
| | West Kent)
98th ” | None | 2nd Prince of Wales’s[84]
| | (North Staffordshire)
99th ” | Lanarkshire | 2nd Duke of
| | Edinburgh’s[85] (Wilts)
100th ” | Prince of Wales’s | 1st Prince of Wales’s
| Royal Canadians | Leinster (Royal
| | Canadians)
101st ” | Royal Bengal Fusiliers | 1st Royal Munster
| | Fusiliers
102nd ” | Royal Madras ” | 1st Royal Dublin
| | Fusiliers
103rd ” | Royal Bombay ” | 2nd Royal Dublin
| | Fusiliers
104th ” | Bengal Fusiliers | 2nd Royal Munster
| | Fusiliers
105th ” | Madras Light Infantry | 2nd King’s Own (Yorks
| | Light Infantry)
106th ” | Bombay ” | 2nd Durham Light Infantry
107th ” | Bengal Infantry | 2nd Royal Sussex
108th ” | Madras ” | 2nd Royal Inniskilling
| | Fusiliers
109th ” | Bombay ” | 2nd Prince of Wales’s
| | Leinster (Royal
| | Canadians)
Rifle Brigade | The Prince Consort’s | The same
(4 battalions) | Own |
--------------------+------------------------+--------------------------
APPENDIX III
LIST OF BADGES, MOTTOES, AND GENERAL NICKNAMES OF THE ARMY.
---------------+----------------+----------------+------------------------
NAME. | BADGE. | MOTTO. | NICKNAMES.
---------------+----------------+----------------+------------------------
1st Life Guards| The Royal Arms | | “Cheeses,” “Piccadilly
2nd Life Guards| ” | | Butchers,” “The Tin
| | | Bellies,” “Patent
| | | Safeties”
Royal Horse | ” | | “Blue Guards,” “Blues,”
Guards | | | “Oxford Blues”
1st Dragoon | Royal Cipher | | “K. D. G.’s,” “The
Guards | within Garter| | Trades Union”
2nd ” | ” | | “The Bays,” “The Rusty
| | | Buckles,”[86] “The
| | | 2nd Horse”
3rd ” | Plume of Prince| | “The Old Canaries”
| of Wales | |
| within Garter| |
| crowned. Red | |
| Dragon and | |
| Rising Sun | |
4th ” | Irish Harp | “_Quis separa- | “The Blue Horse,”
| within Garter| bit?_”[87] | “Godfrey’s Horse,”
| crowned. Harp| | “The Royal Irish”
| and Crown and| |
| Star of St. | |
| Patrick | |
5th ” | V. D. G. | “_Vestigia | “The Green Horse,”
| in Garter | nulla | “Green Dragoon
| crowned | retrorsum_” | Guards,” “Cog’s
| | | Horse”
6th ” | Crossed | | “The Carbs,”
| Carbines | | “Tichborne’s Own,”
| within a | | “9th Horse”
| Garter | |
| crowned | |
7th ” | 7. D. G. in | | “The Black Horse,” “The
| Garter | | Blacks,” “Virgin
| crowned | | Mary’s Guard,”
| | | “Strawboots”
1st Dragoons | Crest of | “_Spectamur |
| England | agendo_” |
| within Garter| |
| crowned, and | |
| Eagle | |
2nd ” | Thistle within | “_Second to | “Scots Greys,” “Old
| a Garter | None_” and | Greys,” “Grey
| crowned. | “_Nemo me | Dragoons,” “Scots
| Eagle with | impune | Regiment of White
| “Waterloo” | lacessit_” | Horses,” “Bubbly
| | | Jocks”
3rd Hussars | White Horse | “_Nec aspera | “Lord Adam Gordon’s
| within Garter| terrent_” | Life Guards,”
| crowned | | “Bland’s Dragoons”
4th ” | V. R. within | | “Paget’s Irregular
| Garter | | Horse”
| crowned | |
5th Lancers | V. R. within | “_Quis | “Royal Irish,” “The
| Garter | separabit_” | Daily Advertisers,”
| crowned. Harp| | “The Red Breasts”
| and Crown | |
6th Dragoons | Castle of | | “The Black Dragoons,”
| Inniskilling,| | “The Old
| with the S. | | Inniskillings,” “The
| George’s | | Skillingers”
| colours | |
| within Garter| |
| crowned | |
7th Hussars | V. R. within | | “Old Straws,” “Black
| Garter | | Horse,” “Young Eyes,”
| crowned | | “Strawboots,” “The
| | | Lilywhite Seventh,”
| | | “The Old Saucy
| | | Seventh”
8th ” | Harp within | “_Pristinæ | “St. George’s,” “The
| Garter | virtutis | Cross-Belts,” “The
| crowned. | memores_” | Dirty 8th,”[88] “The
| Harp crowned | | King’s”
9th Lancers | V. R. within | | “Wynne’s Dragoons,”
| Garter | | “The Delhi Spearmen,”
| crowned | | “The Queen’s”
10th Hussars | Prince of | | “Baker’s LightBobs,”
| Wales’s Plume| | “The Chainey Tenth,”
| within Garter| | “Don’t Dance
| crowned. The | | Tenth”[89]
| Prince of | |
| Wales’s | |
| Plume. The | |
| Red Dragon. | |
| The Rising | |
| Sun | |
11th ” | Sphinx in | “_Treu und | “The Cherry Pickers,”
| Garter | fest_” | “The Cherubims”
| crowned. | |
| Sphinx with | |
| “Egypt.” | |
| Prince | |
| Consort’s | |
| Crest | |
12th Lancers | Prince of | | “The Supple Twelfth”
| Wales’ Plume | |
| in Garter | |
| crowned. Red | |
| Dragon. | |
| Rising Sun. | |
| Prince of | |
| Wales’s | |
| Plume. Sphinx| |
| and “Egypt” | |
13th Hussars | V. R. in Garter| “_Viret in | “The Green Dragoons,”
| crowned | æternum_” | “The Ragged Brigade,”
| | | “The Evergreens,”
| | | “The Geraniums,”
| | | “Gardiner’s
| | | Dragoons,” “Great
| | | Runaway
| | | Prestonpans”[88]
14th ” | Royal Crest in | | “Hamilton’s Runaways,”
| Garter | | “Ramnuggur Boys,”
| crowned. | | “The Emperor’s
| Prussian | | Chamber maids”
| Eagle | |
15th ” | Royal Crest in | “_Merebimur_” | “Fighting Fifteenth,”
| Garter | | “Elliot’s Light
| crowned | | Horse”
16th Lancers | V. R. within | “_Aut cursu aut| “The Red Lancers,”
| Garter | cominus | “The Queen’s”
| crowned | armis_” |
17th Lancers | Skull and Cross| Death’s Head | “Death or Glory Boys,”
| bones within | “_or Glory_” | “Skull and Cross
| a Garter | | Bones,” “Bingham’s
| crowned | | Dandies”
18th Hussars | V. R. within | “_Pro Rege, pro| “Drogheda Light Horse”
| Garter | Lege, pro |
| crowned | Patria |
| | conamur_” |
19th ” | V. R. within | | “The Dumpies”
| Garter | |
| crowned. | |
| Elephant | |
20th Hussars | V. R. within | | “The Dumpies”
| Garter | |
| crowned | |
21st Hussars | ” | | ”
Royal Artillery| Royal Arms and | “_Ubique._” | “The Gunners”
| Supporters. | “_Quo fas et |
| A field gun | gloria |
| with rammer | ucunt_” |
Royal Engineers| Royal Arms and | ” | “The Mudlarks,” “The
| Supporters | | Sappers”
Grenadier | A grenade. | | “Sandbags,”
Guards | Also, 1st | | “Coal-heavers,” “Old
| battalion, | | Eyes,” “Bermuda
| the Crown; | | Exiles”
| 2nd | |
| battalion, | |
| Royal Cipher | |
| crowned; 3rd | |
| battalion, | |
| same as 2nd, | |
| but with a | |
| pile wavy | |
Coldstream | The Star of the| | “Nulli Secundus Club,”
Guards | Garter, for | | “Coldstreamers”
| 1st | |
| battalion; | |
| 2nd | |
| battalion, | |
| Eight-pointed| |
| Star within | |
| Garter | |
| crowned | |
Scots Guards | The Thistle. | “_En! Ferus | “The Jocks”
| Sphinx with | Hostis._” |
| “Egypt.” 1st | “_Unita |
| battalion, | Fortior_” |
| Royal Arms of| |
| Scotland | |
| crowned; 2nd | |
| battalion, | |
| Union Badge | |
| crowned | |
Royal Scots | V.R. within St.| | “Douglas’s Ecossais,”
(1st) | Andrew’s | | “Pontius Pilate’s
| Collar | | Bodyguard”
| crowned. The | |
| Star of the | |
| Thistle. The | |
| Sphinx with | |
| “Egypt” | |
The Queen’s | The Paschal | “_Pristina | “Kirke’s Lambs,” “The
(2nd) | Lamb. The | virtutis | Sleepy Queen’s,” “1st
| Royal Cipher | memor._” | Tangerines”
| within the | “_Vel exuviæ |
| Garter. The | triumphant_” |
| Sphinx with | |
| “Egypt” | |
The Buffs | Rose and Crown.| “_Veteri | “Buff Howards,” “Old
(3rd) | Dragon. | frondescit | Buffs,” “The
| White Horse | honore_” | Nutcrackers”
| of Kent | |
The King’s Own | V.R. within the| | “Resurrectionists,”
(4th) | Garter. The | | “Barrel’s Blues,”
| Lion. Rose | | “The Lions”
| and Crown | |
Northumberland | St. George and | “_Quo fata | “The Shiners,” “The Old
Fusiliers | the Dragon on| vocant_” | Bold Fifth,” “The
(5th) | a grenade. | | Fighting Fifth,”
| St. George | | “Lord Wellington’s
| and Dragon | | Bodyguard,” “The Old
| alone. Rose | | and Bold”
| and Crown | |
Royal Warwick | Bear and Ragged| | “Guise’s Geese,” “The
(6th) | Staff. | | Warwickshire Lads,”
| Antelope. | | “The Saucy Sixth”
| Rose and | |
| Crown | |
Royal Fusiliers| The united Red | “_Nec aspera | “Hanoverian White
(7th) | and White | terrent_” | Horse,” “Elegant
| Rose within | | Extracts”
| the Garter | |
| crowned.[90] | |
| White Horse | |
The King’s | White Horse | “_Nec aspera | “King’s Hanoverian
(8th) | within the | terrent_” | White Horse”
| Garter | |
| crowned. V.R.| |
| within the | |
| Garter | |
| crowned. | |
| Sphinx with | |
| “Egypt” | |
Norfolk | Britannia over | | “Holy Boys,” “Fighting
(9th) | a castle with| | Ninth,” “Norfolk
| three towers | | Howards”[91]
Lincolnshire | Sphinx and | | “The Springers,” “The
(10th) | “Egypt” | | Lincolnshire
| | | Poachers”
Devonshire | Castle of | “_Semper | “The Bloody Eleventh,”
(11th) | Exeter | fidelis_” | “One and All”
Suffolk | Castle and Key | “_Montis | “Old Dozen,” “The
(12th) | with | insignia | Minden Boys”
| “Gibraltar” | Calpe_” |
Somersetshire | Mural Crown | | “Yellow-banded
Light | with | | Robbers,”
Infantry | “Jellalabad,”| | “Bleeders,”
(13th) | over a Bugle | | “Jellalabad Heroes,”
| stringed with| | “The Illustrious
| a Sphinx and | | Garrison.” (Sergeants
| “Egypt.” The | | wear sash on left
| Sphinx and | | shoulder)
| “Egypt.” | |
West Yorkshire | Prince of | “_Nec aspera | “The Old and Bold,”
(14th) | Wales’s | terrent_” | “Calvert’s Entire,”
| Plume. White | | “The Powo’s”[91]
| Horse. Royal | |
| Tiger | |
East Yorkshire | White Rose in | | “The Snappers,” “The
(15th) | an | | Poona Guards.” (One
| eight-pointed| | of Wolfe’s Regiments)
| Star | |
Bedfordshire | The United Red | | “The Old Bucks,” “The
(16th) | and White | | Peacemakers,” “The
| Rose | | Feather Beds”[92]
Leicestershire | Royal Tiger | | “The Lilywhites,” “The
(17th) | with | | Bengal Tigers,” “The
| “Hindostan” | | Tigers,” “The Green
| | | Tigers”
Royal Irish | Harp crowned | “_Virtutis | “The Namurs”
(18th) | with | Namurcensii |
| Shamrock. The| præmium_” |
| Dragon with | |
| “China.” | |
| Sphinx with | |
| “Egypt.” The | |
| Lion of | |
| Nassau on | |
| shield | |
Yorkshire | White Rose. | | “Green Howards,”
Regiment | Princess of | | “Howard’s Garbage,”
(19th) | Wales’s | | “Howard’s Greens”
| Cipher | |
| crowned | |
Lancashire | Sphinx with | | “Two Tens,” “Minden
Fusiliers | “Egypt.” The | | Boys,” “Kingsley’s
(20th) | Rose. Sphinx,| | Stand”
| and “Egypt” | |
| laurelled on | |
| a grenade | |
Royal Scots | St. Andrew with| “_Nemo me | “Earl of Mar’s
Fusiliers | Thistle | impune | Greybreeks”
(21st) | wreath. The | lacessit_” |
| Royal Arms on| |
| a grenade. | |
| The Thistle. | |
| V.R. crowned | |
Cheshire | The united Red | | “The Two Twos,” “The
Regiment | and White | | Red Knights”
(22nd) | Rose | |
Royal Welsh | Rising Sun. Red| “_Ich Dien._” | “Nanny Goats,” “Royal
Fusiliers | Dragon. | “_Nec aspera | Goats”
(23rd) | Prince of | terrent_” |
| Wales’s Plume| |
| on grenade. | |
| White Horse. | |
| Sphinx and | |
| “Egypt” | |
South Wales | Sphinx and | | “Howard’s Greens,”
Borderers | “Egypt” | | “Bengal Tigers”
(24th) | | |
King’s Own | White Horse. | “_Nec aspera | “Leven’s Regiment,”
Scottish | Castle of | terrent._” | “The Edinburgh
Borderers | Edinburgh. | “_Nisi | Regiment,” “The
(25th) | The Royal | Dominus | Borderers,” “Sevens,”
| Crest. The | frustra._” | “The Brothers”
| Sphinx and | “_In |
| “Egypt” | veritatis |
| | religionis |
| | confido_” |
Cameronians | Sphinx and | | (2nd battalion) “The
(26th and | “Egypt,” | | Greybreeks,” “The
90th) | Dragon and | | Cameronians”
| “China,” | |
| Bugle within | |
| a Thistle | |
| wreath | |
| crowned | |
Royal | Castle of | “_Nec aspera | “The Lamps,” “The Old
Inniskilling | Inniskilling | terrent_” | Muster,”
Fusiliers | with St. | | “Inniskillings.”
(27th and | George’s | |
108th) | colours on a | |
| grenade. The | |
| Sphinx and | |
| “Egypt.” | |
| White Horse | |
Gloucestershire| Sphinx and | | “Old Braggs,” “The
(28th and | “Egypt” (worn| | Slashers” “The Right
61st) | back and | | Abouts,”[93] (2nd
| front) | | battalion)
| | | “Whitewashers”
Worcestershire | The united Red | “_Firm_” | “The Vein Openers,”
(29th and | and White | | “The Old and Bold,”
36th) | Rose | | “Star of the Line,”
| | | (2nd battalion) “The
| | | Saucy Greens”
East Lancashire| Sphinx and | | “Triple X,” “The Three
(30th and | “Egypt.” The | | Tens,” (2nd
59th) | Rose | | battalion) “The
| | | Lilywhites”
East Surrey | United Red and | | “Young Buffs,” “Glasgow
(31st and | White Rose | | Greys,” “Murray’s
70th) | | | Bucks”
Duke of | Red and White | | “The Docs,” “The
Cornwall’s | Rose. Bugle | | Surprisers,” (2nd
Light | crowned | | battalion) “The Red
Infantry | | | Feathers,” “The
(32nd and | | | Lacedemonians”
46th) | | |
West Riding | Elephant with | “_Virtutis | “Havercake Lads,” “Duke
(33rd and | “Hindostan” | fortuna | of Wellington’s Own,”
76th) | Crest of Duke| comes_” | (2nd battalion) “The
| of Wellington| | Immortals,” “The
| | | Pigs,” “The Old Seven
| | | and Sixpennies”
Border (34th | Laurel Wreath. | | (2nd battalion) “The
and 55th) | Dragon with | | Two Fives”
| “China” | |
Royal Sussex | United Red and | | Belfast Regiment, “The
(35th and | White Rose | | Orange Lilies”
107th) | | |
Hampshire | Royal Tiger in | | (2nd battalion) “Royal
(37th and | Laurel Wreath| | Tigers”
67th) | with “India” | |
South | Sphinx and | | “Pump and Tortoise,”
Staffordshire| “Egypt” | | (2nd battalion)
(38th and | | | “Staffordshire
81st) | | | Knots”
Dorsetshire | Sphinx and | “_Montis | “Lankey’s Horse,”
(39th and | “Marabout.” | Insignia | “Green Linnets,”
54th) | The Castle | Calpe._” | (2nd battalion)
| and Key | “_Primus in | “The Flamers”
| | Indis_” |
South | Sphinx and | | “Excellers,” “The
Lancashire | “Egypt.” | | Fighting Fortieth”
(40th and | Prince of | |
82nd) | Wales’s Plume| |
Welsh | Rose and | “_Gwell augau | “1st Invalids,”
(41st and | Thistle | neu | “Wardour’s Regiment,”
69th) | within the | Chwilydd_” | (2nd battalion) “Old
| Garter. | | Agamemnons,” “Ups and
| Prince of | | Downs”
| Wales’s Plume| |
Royal | V.R. within | “_Nemo me | “Black Watch.”
Highlanders | Garter. St. | impune | “_Sauvages
(42nd and | Andrew. The | lacessit_” | d’Ecosse._”
73rd) | Sphinx and | |
| “Egypt” | |
Oxfordshire | United Red and | | “Light Bobs,” “Light
Light | White Rose. | | Brigade”
Infantry | Bugle | |
(43rd and | | |
52nd) | | |
Essex Regiment | Castle and Key | “_Montis | “The Two Fours,”
(44th and | with | insignia | “Little Fighting
56th) | “Gibraltar.” | Calpe_” | Fours,” (2nd
| Sphinx and | | battalion) “The
| “Egypt” | | Pompadours,” “Saucy
| | | Pompeys”
The Sherwood | The United Red | | “Old Stubborns,”
Foresters, | and White | | “Sherwood Foresters
(Derbyshire | Rose | | “Nottingham Hosiers,”
Regiment) | | | (2nd battalion)
(45th and | | | “Sweeps”
95th) | | |
North | The Red Rose | | “Cauliflowers,”
Lancashire | | | “Lancashire Lads,”
(47th and | | | “Wolfe’s Own,” (2nd
81st) | | | battalion) “Loyal
| | | Lincoln Volunteers”
Northamptonshire| Castle and Key | “_Montis | “The Steelbacks,”
(48th and | with | insignia | “Heroes of
58th) | “Gibraltar.” | Calpe_” | Talavera”
| Sphinx and | |
| “Egypt” | |
Royal Berkshire| Dragon with | | (2nd battalion) “Green
(49th and | “China” | | Howards,” “Two Sixes”
66th) | | |
Royal West Kent| Sphinx and | “_Quo fas et | “Blind Half Hundred,”
(50th and | “Egypt” | gloria | “Dirty Half Hundred,”
97th) | | ducunt_” | “The Devil’s Royal,”
| | | “The Gallant
| | | Fiftieth,” (2nd
| | | battalion)
| | | “Celestials”
Yorkshire Light| The White Rose | “_Cede nullis_”| “The Kolis”
Infantry | | |
(51st and | | |
105th) | | |
Shropshire | The United Red | “_Aucto | “Brickdusts” “Old Five
Light | and White | splendore | and Threepennies,”
Infantry | Rose. A Bugle| resurgo_” | (2nd battalion)
(53rd and | with K. L. I.| | “Elegant Extracts”
85th) | | |
Middlesex (57th| Prince of | | “Steelbacks” “The
and 77th) | Wales’s | | Die-hards,” (2nd
| Plume. Duke | | battalion) “The
| of | | Pothooks”
| Cambridge’s | |
| Coronet and | |
| Cipher in | |
| Laurel Wreath| |
King’s Royal | Maltese Cross | “_Celer et | “Royal Americans,”
Rifle Corps | crowned, with| audax_” | “_Sanguinary_ Sweeps”
(60th--4 | Bugle and | |
battalions) | 60th in | |
| centre, with | |
| names of | |
| battles | |
Wiltshire (62nd| Duke of | | “The Springers,”
and 99th) | Edinburgh’s | | “Splashers”
| Cipher and | |
| Coronet | |
Manchester | Sphinx and | | “Bloodsuckers”
(63rd and | “Egypt” | |
96th) | | |
North | Prince of | |
Staffordshire| Wales’s | |
(64th and | Plume. Dragon| |
89th) | and “China” | |
York and | Union Rose. | |
Lancaster | Royal Tiger | |
(65th and | and “India” | |
84th) | | |
Durham Light | United Red and | | “Faithful Durhams”
Infantry | White Rose. | |
(68th and | The Bugle | |
106th) | | |
Highland Light | Elephant and | | “Glasgow Light
Infantry | “Assaye.” | | Infantry,” “The
(71st and | Bugle | | Glesca’ Keelies,”
74th) | crowned, with| | (2nd battalion) “The
| H.L.I. inside| | Assaye,” “Pig and
| | | Whistle Light
| | | Infantry”
Seaforth | Elephant and | _Cuidich’n | “The Macraes,” (2nd
Highlanders | “Assaye.” | Righ_ (”Help | battalion) “King’s
(72nd and | Late Duke of | the King,” | Men”
78th) | York’s Cipher| the motto of |
| and Coronet. | the |
| A Stag’s Head| Mackenzies) |
Gordon | Royal Tiger and| | “Strada Reale
Highlanders | “India.” | | Highlanders”
(75th and | Sphinx and | |
92nd) | “Egypt” | |
Cameron | Thistle | | “Cia mar tha’s”
Highlanders | crowned. | |
(79th) | Sphinx and | |
| “Egypt” | |
Royal Irish | Harp crowned. | “_Quis | “Fitch’s Grenadiers,”
Rifles (83rd | Sphinx and | separabit?_” | (2nd battalion)
and 86th) | “Egypt.” | | “County Downs,”
| Bugle | | “Shropshire
| | | Volunteers”
Royal Irish | Prince of | | “Old Fogs,”
Fusiliers | Wales’s | | “Faugh-a-Ballagh
(87th and | Plume. Harp | | Boys,”
89th) | crowned. | | “Eagle-takers,” (2nd
| Sphinx and | | battalion) “Blayney’s
| “Egypt.” | | Bloodhounds,” “The
| Eagle with | | Rollickers”
| Laurel wreath| |
| on grenade. | |
| Princess | |
| Victoria’s | |
| Coronet | |
Connaught Rgrs.| Elephant. | “_Quis | “Devil’s Own,” (2nd
(88th and | Sphinx and | separabit?_” | battalion) “Garvies”
94th) | “Egypt.” Harp| |
| crowned | |
Argyle and | Princess | “_Ne oblivis- | (2nd battalion)
Sutherland | Louise’s | caris_” | “The Thin Red Line,”
Highlanders | Cipher and | “_Sans peur_” | “The Rories”
(91st and | Coronet. A | |
93rd) | Boar’s Head | |
| in a Myrtle | |
| wreath. A Cat| |
| in a Broom | |
| wreath | |
Leinster | Prince of | | “Royal Canadians,” (2nd
(100th & | Wales’s Plume| | battalion) “The
109th) | in a circle | | German Legion.” “The
| crowned with | | Crusaders.” “The Wild
| Maple Leaf | | Indians.” “The
| wreath. A | | Centipedes.” “The Old
| Maple Leaf | | Hundredth.” “The
| | | Colonials.” “The
| | | Maple-leaves”[94]
Munster | Royal Tiger. | | “The Dirty Shirts”
Fusiliers | Shamrock | |
(101st & 104th)| | |
Dublin | Elephant with | “_Spectamur | “The Lambs,” (2nd
Fusiliers | “Carnatic” | agendo_” | battalion) “The Old
102nd & 103rd)| and “Mysore.”| | Toughs”
| Royal Tiger | |
| with | |
| “Plassey” and| |
| “Buxar” | |
Rifle Brigade | Bugle. Rose. | | “The Sweeps”
(4 battalions)| Maltese | |
| Cross, | |
| laurelled and| |
| crowned | |
West Indians | Broken Column | | “Buckmaster’s Light
| with Ivy | | Infantry”
Royal Marines | Globe and | “_Per mare, | (Infantry) “The Joeys,”
| Laurel. Royal| per terram_” | “The Jollies,” “The
| Cipher | | Little Grenadiers”
| crowned. | | (Artillery) “Blue
| “Gibraltar” | | Marines,” “Water
| | | Gunners”
Royal Malta | Maltese Cross | |
Artillery | within a | |
| Garter. Royal| |
| Cipher. | |
| Egypt, 1882 | |
| | |
Ordnance Store | | | “Sugarstick Brigade”
Corps | | |
Army Service | | | “London Thieving
Corps | | | Corps,” “Murdering
| | | Thieves,” “Moke
| | | Train,” “Muck
| | | Train”[95]
Army Medical | | | “Pills,” “Linseed
Department | | | Lancers,” “Poultice
| | | Whollopers”[94]
| | |
| | |
Chaplains | | |
Department | | |
| | |
Army Veterinary| | |
Department | | |
| | |
Army Pay | | |
Department | | |
---------------+----------------+----------------+------------------------
FOOTNOTES
[1] Polybius.
[2] One of the latter was exhumed some years since on the field of
Hastings.
[3] _History of the Conquest of Granada._
[4] _Atlas des Batailles_, Kausler.
[5] The rates of pay, per day, at this time were:--
Knight 2s.
Esqr. and Captain 1s.
Mounted Archer 6d.
Foot Archer 3d.
Gunner 12d. 3d.
Welsh Foot 2d.
[6] Mr. Hereford B. George gives 1200 to 1600 men-at-arms and 3000
archers.
[7] _The Battles of English History_, by Hereford B. George, p. 62.
[8] The site of the first battlefield of St. Albans is situated
south-east of the town, on its present immediate outskirt at
“Keyfield.” It evidently was fought across the London Road, one force
(the Yorkists) trying to debouch the other (the Lancastrians), to
prevent its advance. The ground was undoubtedly grass land leading down
to a small brook, and sparsely crossed by fences, which were probably
plainer then than now. A row of poor cottages called “Key Terrace,”
marks probably the centre of the fight.
That of the second battle is north of the town, on land that is still
open heath more or less. It is slightly undulating clay land, dotted
with thin scrub and bramble, and probably was always so, fences being
even now rare. There was no well-defined “position” in either case, a
common fault on such soils, and here again, a force advancing from the
north drove in a force occupying the town, and based on London, and
which met its antagonist for battle on the northern road.
[9] The weight of the man and his armour, trappings, etc., in 1560
amounted to twenty-five stones.
[10] _The Parliamentary Generals of the Great Civil War._ Major N. L.
Walford.
[11] Walford, p. 128.
[12] Judge O’Connor Morris.
[13] Spriggs.
[14] Foot received 1s.; horse 2s. 6d. per day.
[15] Macaulay.
[16] Military Papers. State Paper Office.
[17] Lovat’s Life.
[18] In 1703, apparently, there were in England about sixteen troops of
cavalry, with seven regiments of infantry, in all about seven thousand
men; and in Scotland, about ten troops of cavalry, and six regiments of
infantry, or about four thousand men.
[19] _Affairs of Europe from the Peace of Utrecht to 1723._ Earl
Russell.
[20] _Battles of English History._ Hereford B. George.
[21] Farquhar.
[22] _Encyc. Brit._
[23] Fonblanque.
[24] The total available fighting strength of the clans was reputed to
be about 40,000.
[25] Not the present 48th, which was the 49th. The above mentioned
disappeared in 1748.
[26] Carlyle.
[27] Gleig.
[28] Schomberg’s _Naval Chronicles_.
[29] _Scots Magazine._
[30] Stocqueler.
[31] Stocqueler.
[32] Stocqueler.
[33] The late Sir G. Pomeroy Colley.
[34] _Childe Harold._
[35] Napier.
[36] Sir E. Hamley.
[37] Robinson.
[38] Napier.
[39] Wellington Despatches.
[40] Napier.
[41] At Inkerman, later, Captain Stanley roused the courage of his men
by calling out, “Die hard! Remember Albuhera.”
[42] Southey.
[43] Napier.
[44] See p. 204.
[45] _Life of Lord Lynedoch_ by Captain A. Delavoye.
[46] Chesney.
[47] Hereford B. George.
[48] _The British Army_, Sir S. D. Scott.
[49] The South African wars will be dealt with separately.
[50] Sir E. B. Hamley.
[51] Hereford B. George.
[52] Von Moltke.
[53] Hamley.
[54] Hamley.
[55] _Decisive Battles of India_, p. 279. Malleson.
[56] _Decisive Battles in India_, p. 311. Malleson.
[57] Macfarlane.
[58] Another tradition has it that the custom arose after the battle of
Culloden.
[59] General W. F. P. Napier.
[60] Sir H. Smith’s despatch.
[61] _Annual Register._
[62] _Calcutta Review._
[63] Malleson.
[64] Sir C. Napier.
[65] _British Battles by Land and Sea._ Grant.
[66] _Relief of Chitral._ Younghusband.
[67] _Macmillan’s Magazine._
[68] Correspondent, _Daily Telegraph_.
[69] _The Ashantee War_, by the _Daily News_ Special Correspondent.
[70] _From Korti to Khartum_, by Sir Charles W. Wilson.
[71] _From Korti to Khartum._
[72] An amusing card was anonymously printed after this deprivation, a
copy of which appears in the Regimental Chronicle. It runs as follows:--
“In memory of Left-Arm Chevrons, 43rd Light Infantry, last surviving
offspring of the late General S. PRIT DE CORPS, of the Light Division,
cut off by the hand of envy at Thayetmyo, July 1881.
“Also of BADGES, _Relict of the above_, destroyed by the Great Flood at
Poona, October 1886.
“_Cursed is he that removeth his neighbour’s landmark._”
[73] 1868. _N.B._--Where the old title is retained it is not added to
the new title.
[74] Altered to “Royal Scots Greys” in 1877.
[75] Granted in 1876.
[76] Altered to “Scots Guards” in 1877.
[77] Granted in 1875.
[78] Granted in 1877.
[79] “Stirlingshire” granted in 1862.
[80] Granted in 1876.
[81] Second battalion authorised, and in course of formation (1897).
[82] Granted in 1873.
[83] Granted in 1872.
[84] Granted in 1876.
[85] Granted in 1874.
[86] _Nicknames and Traditions of the British Army._
[87] _British Army._ Laurence Archer.
[88] _Nicknames and Traditions of the British Army._
[89] _The Regiment._
[90] _Army List._
[91] _The Regiment._
[92] _Nicknames and Traditions_, etc.
[93] _The Regiment._
[94] _The Regiment._
[95] _Nicknames and Traditions of the Army._
INDEX
Abercrombie, 164.
Abu Klea, 391.
Abyssinia, 374.
Admiral’s Regiment, 129.
Advice to Volunteers, 166.
Afghanistan, 282, 326.
Albuhera, 193.
Aliwal, 291.
Almanza, 82.
André, 119.
Armour, 23, 35.
Arms, 4, 37, 85, 241, 239, 262, 349.
Army in Africa, 126, 354.
” in America, 107.
” of Charles II., 5, 7.
” in the Far East, 336.
” in India (1600-1825), 264.
” in India (1825-1858), 277.
” in India (1858-1896), 318.
” of the King, 55.
” in North Africa, 374.
” of the Nobles, 14.
” of the People, 15.
” in Spain, 187, 199.
” at Sea, 128.
Arroyo des Molinos, 195.
Artillery, 19, 29, 38, 396.
Assaye, 271.
Ashantee, 385.
Ashdown, 4.
Assirghur, 275.
Badajoz, 196.
Baggage trains, 49.
Baird, 269.
Balaklava, 252.
Barnet, 28.
Barrosa, 188.
Basing House, 45, 46.
Bayonet, 397.
Beginning of true strategy, 41.
Bernadotte, 267.
Bhoteas, 322.
Bhurtpore, 275.
Bladensburg, 122.
Blenheim, 76.
Blucher, 227.
Boers War, 367, 372.
Bonaparte, 143, 160.
Boston, 114.
Bowmen, 15.
Boxtel and Wellesley, 161.
Brussels Ball, 211.
Buffs, 346.
Bunker’s Hill, 114.
Burmah, 336.
Burmese stockades, 339.
Busaco, 187.
Bushire and Reshire, 296.
Candahar, 333.
Cawnpore, 302, 310.
Cetewayo, 364.
Chevalier de St. George, 75.
Chillianwallah, 293.
China, 343.
Chitral, 339.
Chivalry, 20.
Colours, 330.
Colonel Vassall, 145.
Convention of Cintra, 176.
Crawford, 186.
Crecy, 16.
Crimea, 236, 297.
Cromwell, 44, 47, 49, 51.
” in Ireland, 47.
Cromwell’s men, 52.
Delhi, 272, 305.
Dettingen, 101.
Diamond Rock, 138.
Douro, 182.
Dragoons and Dragoon Guards, 127.
Drill Books, 157, 239.
Drummer of the 43rd, 202.
Duelling and Flogging, 240.
Duke of Cumberland, 98.
” of York, 238.
Early Battalions, 36, 37.
Early Companies, 24.
Education of officers, 277.
Edward IV., 28.
Egypt, 163, 378.
El Bodon, 195.
Embers of the Civil War, 87.
Enlistment, 88.
Facings, 403.
Famars, 160.
Ferozeshah, 289.
First Afghan War, 282.
Fontenoy, 103.
Forbes Mitchell, 309.
French armies, 39, 50.
Frontier wars, 320.
Fuentes d’Onoro, 191.
General Wade, 93.
George II., 75, 102.
Gibraltar, 131.
Gneisenau and Wellington, 212.
Gujerat, 295.
Hal, 217.
Hardinge, 290.
Hastings, 6, 7.
Highland regiments, 230.
” tactics, 91.
Hodson, 307.
Infantry, 24.
Ingogo, 370.
Inkerman, 258.
Isandhlwana, 360.
Ismailia, 380.
Jowakis, 325.
Kaffir Wars, 353, 359.
Kambula, 362.
Kassassin, 381.
Knighthood, 21, 22.
Laing’s Nek, 369.
Lake, 272.
Lincelles, 160.
Lord Wolseley, 355, 363, 380, 389, 394, 401.
Lucknow, 307, 312.
Lushari, 324.
Magdala, 376.
Maharajahpore, 287.
Maiwand, 329.
Majuba, 371.
Malplaquet, 75.
Maori defences, 348.
Marines, 130, 137.
Marlborough, 82.
Meanee, 285.
Militia, 243.
Minden, 107.
Minorca, 140.
Monte Video, 145.
Moodkee, 289.
Moore, 173, 180.
Moyse of the Buffs, 346.
Naseby, 43.
Neill, 309.
New Zealand, 347.
Nile Expedition, 389.
Norman names, 11.
” rule, end of, 13.
O’Connor Morris, 48.
Oudenarde, 75.
Pandy, 301.
Peninsular army, 173.
Perak, 340.
Plassy, 266.
Pottinger, 296.
Prestonpans, 96.
Prince Alamayu, 377.
” Napoleon, 363.
Puritan army, 35.
Puritan host, 35.
Quatre Bras and Ligny, 209.
Quebec, 111.
Queen Margaret, 27.
Ramillies, 75.
Range of firearms, 167.
Rangiriri, 348.
“Retreat to Corunna,” 178.
Richard of York, 25.
Roberts, 332.
Roliça, 174.
Romans, 313.
Rorke’s Drift, 361.
Sabugal, 187.
Salamanca, 197.
Sandhurst and Staff College, 315.
San Sebastian, 201.
Saratoga, 117.
Sebastopol, 253.
Second Afghan War, 325.
Sekukuni, 366.
“Sergeant Matcham,” 203.
Seringapatam, 269.
Short service, 399.
Sir C. Wilson, 391.
Sir Herbert Stewart, 390.
Sir John Moore, 159, 164.
Sir R. Buller, 362, 393.
Smokeless powder, 397.
Sobraon, 291.
Soult, 203.
St. Albans, 26.
Suakin, 385.
Sudan, 385.
Survivals, 405.
Swords, 231.
Tactics, 8, 29, 33, 36, 43, 44, 50, 79, 250.
Talavera, 104.
Tel el Kebir, 382.
Territorialisation, 402.
The “Birkenhead,” 151.
The Buffs and the Athleta, 153.
The “Charlotte,” 152.
The Colours of the 9th, 117.
The Delaware, 116.
The English “Hulks,” 204.
The Irish Brigade, 104.
The Light Division, 184.
The Mutiny, 297.
The Normans, 10.
The Peninsular army, 155.
The Red and White Rose, 25.
The Rising of 1715, 90.
The Rising of 1745, 94.
The Saxon army, 3.
The “self-denying ordinance,” 42, 51.
The Spaniards, 183.
The Stuarts, 40.
The V.C., 261.
The 13th, 284.
The 14th at Famars, 160.
The 28th, 164.
The 29th, 123.
The 39th, 265.
The 50th, 175.
The 52nd, 193.
Tofrik, 388.
Umbeylah, 321.
Uniform, 104, 125, 229.
Vellore, 297.
Vimiera, 175.
Vittoria, 200.
Volunteers, 30, 166, 243, 316.
Walcheren, 162.
Wars of Roses, 25.
Warwick and his death, 31.
Waterloo, 206, 218.
Wellesley, 171, 174, 181.
Wellington, 244, 274.
West Coast of Africa, 355.
Wolfe, 99, 111.
Yeomen of the Guard, 32.
York Town, 121.
Zulu War, 361.
PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED, EDINBURGH
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not
changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced
quotation marks retained.
Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.
Ditto marks in the Table of Contents and List of Illustrations have
been replaced by the words above them. Ditto marks in Appendices II and
III have been retained.
Footnotes, originally at the bottoms of pages, have been renumbered and
moved to the end of the main text, just before the Index.
Index not checked for proper alphabetization or correct page references.
Page 45: “follow-effect” was printed that way.
Page 63: The closing right parenthesis in ‘“Men of Harlech”);’ was
added by the Transcriber.
Page 115: “Benedek Arnold” was printed that way.
Page 161: “Egmont-op-Zee on the 2nd October 1799” was misprinted as
1779; corrected here.
Page 145: “43th” was printed that way.
Page 231 (illustration of “Spears & Swords” facing this page): The
right-hand part of the upper caption was ambiguous, likely due to lack
of space. Transcriber modified it so that “Halberd” appears twice in
this eBook: once for Geo. II and separately for Geo. III.
Page 279: The opening quotation mark for “a minimum of £60” was added
by the Transcriber; it may be in the wrong place.
Page 325: “attached a British outpost” probably is a misprint for
“attacked”.
Page 408: “Balaklava 25th October 1854” was missing the “4”.
Page 409: No date was printed for “Rolicund”.
Page 425: No page numbers given for index entry “Army in Africa”.
Transcriber added them based on examination of the text.
Page 426: No page numbers given for “O’Connor Morris”, “The Saxon
army” or “The self-denying ordinance”. Transcriber added them based on
examination of the text.
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