THE OLD REGIMENT OF EDINBURGH.
"Such is our love of liberty, our country and our laws,
That like our ancestors of old, we'll stand in freedom's cause;
We'll bravely fight like heroes for honour and applause,
And defy the French, with all their art, to alter our laws."
_The Garb of Old Gaul._
From Major Middleton, who took somewhat of a fatherly interest in
him, Quentin learned much of the past history and achievements of the
regiment he had joined.
It was one with which the stories of his old military friends at
Rohallion had made him familiar from boyhood; thus, he was in
possession of so many old regimental names, so many stock stories and
anecdotes, which Middleton deemed unknown beyond the circle of their
mess-table and barrack-rooms, that he considered the lad an enigma,
and was puzzled how, or where, he had gained all this information
about the corps; for Quentin, though looking forward to the arrival
of Cosmo with a disgust that almost amounted to terror, kept his own
counsel with wonderful prudence, and never permitted the name of
Rohallion to escape him.
As there is no official record of the Borderers' achievements prior
to 1808, the account given by the major is perhaps the only one
extant.
Under David Leslie, Earl of Leven, the 25th Foot were formed on the
10th of March, 1689, from a body of six thousand Covenanters, who, on
the news of William of Orange landing at Torbay, marched from the
West Country and laid siege to the castle of Edinburgh. On their
banners were an open Bible, with the motto, "For Reformation
according to the Word of God."
Marching north against the loyal Highlanders, they left their
compatriots, all of whom served without pay or remuneration till the
conclusion of the siege, when the fortress was surrendered by the
Duke of Gordon after a noble defence, and after being warned by a
spectre--pale as he "who drew Priam's curtain at the dead of
night"--in fact, by the wraith of the terrible Claverhouse in his
buff coat, cuirass, and cavalier wig, all stained with gouts of
blood, that he had been shot by a silver bullet on the field of
Killycrankie. In one of the rooms of the old fortress this vision is
alleged to have appeared to Colin, Earl of Balcarris, then the duke's
prisoner, and the truth of the episode is admitted by a delirious
biographer of the viscount, who affirms that he is frequently in
communion with the ghost in question, and with others.
The Earl of Leven, though colonel of infantry under Frederick
Wilhelm, Elector of Brandenburg, and of a regiment which came over
with the Prince of Orange, who made him Governor of Edinburgh Castle
and Master of the Scottish ordnance, was a Whig noble, chiefly famous
for the rapidity of his flight from Killycrankie, and the vigour with
which he horsewhipped the Lady Morton Hall. It is said that he rode
six miles from the Pass without drawing his bridle, though his
regiment, the future 25th, and Hastings, the future 13th, were the
only troops that made any stand against the victorious Highlanders.
Leven's regiment having been raised in the capital while Sir John
Hall, Knight, was Lord Provost, was designated of Edinburgh, and bore
the insignia yet borne on its colours, the triple castle of the city,
with its crest and motto, _Nisi Dominus Frustra_.
As Leven's regiment--the same in which "my uncle Toby" fought at
Landen, and with which he went to "mount guard in the trenches before
the gate of St. Nicholas in his roquelaure"--it served in all King
William's useless wars for the well-being of his darling Dutch, and
all the great barrier towns of Europe have heard the drums of the
25th. It was the first British regiment which used the socket in
lieu of the screw bayonet, which its lieutenant-colonel, Maxwell,
adopted in imitation of the bayonets of the French Fusiliers. Prior
to this, our bayonets were screwed into the muzzles of the muskets,
and to fire with them fixed, was, of course, an impossibility. After
fighting at Sheriffmuir, as Viscount Shannon's Foot, it served with
distinction in the wars of the Spanish and Austrian succession, and
shared in the disasters of Fontenoy, ere its soldiers had again to
imbrue their hands in the blood of their own countrymen at Falkirk,
at Culloden, and in defending the Comyn's Tower in the old Castle of
Blair against Lord George Murray, till we find them again among the
troops defeated at Val through the cowardice and incapacity of the
Duke of Cumberland.
During the seven years' war it suffered severely at the siege of a
small German castle, by the heroism of a sergeant of the enemy.
Under Lord Rohallion a party of the Edinburgh Regiment had made
themselves masters of an outwork, in which they established
themselves at the point of the bayonet. _Under_ this work was a
secret mine, which (as the "Ecole Historique et Morale du Soldat"
relates) was entrusted to a sergeant and a few soldiers of the Royal
Piedmontese Guards. The mine was ready, the _saucisson_ led through
the gallery, the train was laid, and a single spark would blow all
below and above to atoms!
With admirable coolness the sergeant desired his comrades to retire,
and request the king to take charge of his wife and children. He
then, inspired by a spirit of self-devotion, set fire to the train
and perished, as the mine exploded. The outwork rose into the air
and fell thundering into the fosse, Lord Rohallion, a corporal, and
two men alone escaping, covered with bruises and cuts. The name of
the sergeant was said to be Amadeus di Savillano, son of the
Castellan of the fortress of that name in Piedmont.
The Edinburgh regiment served at the battle of Minden. The Earl of
Home was then its colonel, and it was in the second line, and on the
left of Kingsley's famous brigade. Landing in England, on the
homeward march, near the Borders, the old colours borne in the seven
years' war were buried by its soldiers, with all honour, and three
volleys were fired over them.
In those days, when any regiment approached London, the colours were
furled and cased, and no drum was beaten or fife blown during the
march through its limits. The 3rd, or Old East Kentish Buffs, were
alone excepted, and had the exclusive privilege of marching through
the City of London with all the honours of war, in memory of having,
at some period, been recruited from the City Trained Bands.
Likewise no regiment could beat a drum within the walls, or through
the portes of the Scottish capital, with the exception of the 25th,
or old Edinburgh Regiment. But not long after the battle of Minden,
it chanced that a certain thick-pated lord-provost objected to their
drums beating up for recruits, on the plea that none should beat
there but those of the City Guard. On this, the colonel, Lord George
Henry Lennox (M.P. for the county of Sussex, who died in 1805), was
so incensed, that on his special application the title of the corps
was changed, and its facings were altered from the royal yellow of
Scotland to the royal blue of Britain, and after a time it was styled
the "King's Own Borderers."
Egmont-op-zee, Martinique, and Egypt added fresh honours to those of
other times; but still on drum and standard are borne unchanged the
castle, triple-towered, with the anchor and motto, _Nisi Dominus
Frustra_, usually the first little bit of latinity learned by the
Edinburgh schoolboy.
Such is a rapid outline of the past history of this famous old corps,
in the ranks of which Quentin Kennedy hoped to achieve for himself a
position and a name--perhaps, rank and glory too! What boy does not
look forward to some such vague but brilliant future,--
"In life's morning march when the bosom is young."
The evening subsequent to the punishment parade was the _last_ on
which the battalion mess would assemble, and Quentin was Monkton's
guest. He was again seated near the worthy major, and from him he
learned much of what we have just narrated, many a quaint regimental
story being woven up with what was actual military history.
"You should tell him of that startling adventure, or rather, I should
say, of those series of adventures, which happened to you when
commanding an out-picquet in America," said Colville, with a
significant but hasty glance at Monkton, for the frequent repetition
of this story formed a kind of covert joke against the worthy major.
"What--which out-picquet--at the siege of Fort St. John?"
"Exactly, Major," said Monkton.
"St. John, on the Richelieu River?" asked Quentin.
"Yes," said Middleton, with an air of gratification; "you are a very
intelligent young man, and have no doubt read of the defence of that
place."
Quentin hastened to say that he _had_ heard of it; in fact, the
defence with all its details--the bravery of Majors Preston and André
of the Cameronians, and so forth--formed one of the stock stories of
his old friends, the quartermaster and Jack Andrews; and so
frequently had he heard it, that he was somewhat uncertain at times
that he had not served there too.
"But the episode of yours, with that devilish Indian fellow, may
scare Kennedy when on sentry," said the adjutant, "a duty he must do
as a volunteer."
"Scare--not at all!" said Middleton, testily; "it is the very thing
to sharpen his wits and to keep him wide awake. There are others
here who never heard the story, and it is worth listening to; but
before I begin we must send away the marines and replenish the
decanters."
"Right!" cried Askerne, who was president; "this is the last night of
one of the jolliest messes in His Majesty's service. To-morrow the
plate, which has glittered before us so long--the crystal from which
we have imbibed the full bodied port, the creamy claret, and the
choice Madeira, the sparkling champagne, the old hock, in fact, 'the
entire plant,' to use a commercial phrase, will be packed up and
stored away among dust and cobwebs, while the Borderers march in
quest of 'fresh fields and pastures new.' A long farewell to our
glorious mess!" exclaimed the handsome grenadier, as he poured a
glass of port down his capacious throat. "Mr. Vice-President, order
the last cooper of port before the major begins his story."
"Ah, the mess!" sighed Buckle, the adjutant; "when we come to be
frying our ration beef in a camp-kettle lid, under a shower of rain,
perhaps, there will be an exchange with a devil of a difference!"
With the aforesaid "cooper" there came in hot whisky-toddy for the
major and a few select seniors, for it was _then_ the custom at the
messes of Scots and Irish national corps to introduce the Farintosh
and potheen; though I fear our dandies of the Victorian age
(especially such as are horrified at the sight of a black bottle)
might consider such a proceeding a deplorable solecism in good taste.
"And now, major, for your story," said Askerne, while Colville,
perhaps the only affected man in the regiment, gave his shoulders a
shrug, perceptible only by the glittering of his epaulettes, and
Monkton responded by a sly wink behind his glass of wine, while he
pretended to be looking for the beeswing.