the French Pyrenees, in daily skirmishes, and the capture of entrenched
camps. The country was now covered by snow, and the troops endured
many privations, which Sir William Stuart (brother of Lord Galloway)
did all in his power to alleviate, by issuing extra allowances of rum,
which won him the cognomen of _Auld Grog Willie_; and his popularity
was so great among all the troops, that his appearance was always
hailed by a noisy cheer, and shouts of "God bless you, Sir William!"
Lord Wellington disliked this, and compelled the general to refund to
Government all those _extra_ allowances of rum served out to the poor
soldiers amid the snows of that severe winter on the Pyrenees.
Cameron, who had long remarked that those officers of his 1st Battalion
who became by promotion members of the 2nd, and should consequently
be at home, were always unfortunate if the corps were engaged, before
the passage of the Nive ordered four of them to leave immediately for
Britain, when the troops were about to cross the river.
"God bless you, gentlemen," said he, as they bade him adieu; "I am now
tired of war, and may well wish I were going with you."
But, mounted on his charger, he was the first to cross the Nivelle,
below Ainhoe, when his daring Highlanders were ordered to storm the
strong redoubt in rear of the village, where they drove out the French
and took possession of their huts. Here his favourite piper was killed
by his side; and with his own hand he strove to raise him, exclaiming,
"I would rather lose twenty men than have lost you!" He led them
through the Nive at Cambo; and in the attack upon those heavy columns
which occupied the ground between the entrenched camp at Bayonne and
the road to St. Jean Pied-de-Port, he fought valiantly at the battle
of St. Pierre. There (Napier relates), at one period of the day, the
overwhelming cannonade and musketry drove the 92nd in rear of the
hamlet; however, on being succoured by their old comrades, the 50th,
and Ashworth's Caçadores, they re-formed behind St. Pierre, and "then
their gallant colonel, Cameron, once more led them down the road,
with colours flying and pipes playing, resolved to give the shock to
whatever stood in their way. The 92nd was but a small clump compared to
the heavy mass in front;" but Fassifern led them on as of old, and the
_heavy mass_ rolled before their bayonets like mist before the wind.
Four times that day he led them to brilliant charges, and four times
the foe was driven back. Cameron had 13 officers and 173 rank and file
killed and wounded; but he obtained an honorary badge, inscribed with
the word _Nive_.
After the attack on the enemy at Hellette, in the lower Pyrenees,
where General Harispe was driven out, and forced to retire to Meharin;
and after that gallant conflict on the heights of Garris, where Cameron
lost Seton of Pitmedden, and twelve other brave fellows, the scene of
his next achievement was the pretty village of Arriverette, on the
right bank of Gave de Mauleon, where the French endeavoured to destroy
a wooden bridge, to prevent Wellington from following them; but a
ford being discovered above it, Cameron boldly threw himself into
the stream, at the head of his Highlanders, crossed under a fire of
artillery, stormed the village, drove back the enemy, and, by securing
the bridge, enabled the whole troops to pass. For this eminent service
his Majesty granted to him, as an additional crest of honourable
augmentation, a Highlander of the 92nd foot, "armed and accoutred,
up to the middle in water, his dexter hand grasping a broadsword, in
his sinister a banner, inscribed, '92nd,' within a wreath of laurel,
all proper, and on an escroll above, the word _Arriverette_."[6] But
Cameron had now a fresh cause of displeasure at his great leader; for,
on applying to him, through Lieutenant-General Lord Niddry, for leave
to inscribe _Arriverette_ upon the regimental colours, Wellington
declined, without affording any satisfactory reason. He acknowledged,
in his reply, that "the 92nd forded the river, and took the village
against a superior force of the enemy, in most gallant style;" but
added that it was beneath their reputation to explain _why_ they should
not have Arriverette on their colours. This ambiguous reply Cameron
considered another affront, and never forgot or forgave it.
He received an honorary badge for his conduct at the battle of Orthez;
and on the 2nd March, 1814, distinguished himself at the capture of
Aire so prominently, that George III. desired him to bear embattled in
chief above the old cognizance of Lochiel (as the heraldic record above
quoted has it), "a representation of the town of Aire, in allusion to
his glorious services on the 2nd March last, when, after an arduous
and sanguinary conflict, he succeeded in forcing a superior body of
the enemy to abandon the said town, and subsequently had the honour to
receive an address from the inhabitants, expressive of their gratitude
for the maintenance of discipline, by which he had saved them from
plunder and destruction." The address, which was so complimentary to
his distinguished regiment, was signed by M. Codroy, the mayor, in the
name of the people.
From thence he accompanied the troops in that hot and brilliant
pursuit, which did not cease until the French evacuated Toulouse, and
the white banner of Bourbon was displayed upon its walls. The seizure
of Paris by the allies, the abdication of Bonaparte and proclamation
of peace, the restoration of Louis XVIII., rapidly followed, and the
Peninsular army was ordered home.
In the last skirmish near Toulouse, Cameron had his favourite horse
shot under him; and, though there was a hot fire of musketry sweeping
the place where it lay, M'Millan deliberately unbuckled the girths of
the saddle, and brought it away with the cloak and holsters, saying,
that "though the French were welcome to the dead carcase, they should
not get the good accoutrements."
When encamped at Blanchefort, two miles from Bordeaux, Cameron obtained
his brevet colonelcy on the 4th June, 1814;[7] and when cantoned at
Pouillac, his Highlanders joyfully received the route for Scotland, and
on the 17th July embarked on board H.M.S. _Norge_, which, however, by a
change of destination, landed them at the Cove of Cork.
While his regiment, now reduced to one battalion, was in Ireland,
Cameron returned, on leave, to his native glen at Fassifern.
Wellington had then won all the honours a subject could attain: patents
of nobility, baronetcy, and knighthood were issued for generals of
division and brigade; Orders of the Garter, the Bath, and the Crescent
were unsparingly lavished among the heroes of the war; but the brave
Cameron, notwithstanding all his services--though he had been almost
riddled by musket-shot, and had served in Sweden, Denmark, Holland,
Spain, Portugal, Egypt, and France, at home and abroad, for twenty-one
years--found that the Duke of Wellington had _omitted_ his name in the
list of officers recommended for honorary distinctions. He visited
London, and complained to the Duke of York, who offered to have him
gazetted as an additional Cross of the Bath.
"I beg your highness will excuse me," said he, "for as my name has been
omitted, I will not accept of it now."
"Sir," replied the duke, "do you know to whom you are speaking?"
"A prince of that royal blood for which I have too often shed my own;
but am yet willing to do so again. And I have the honour to wish your
Highness good morning."
In this haughty fashion he quitted the Horse Guards, but was afterwards
prevailed upon to write to Wellington.
Justly indignant, he wrote a fiery remonstrance to the duke, who was
then at Vienna, and who, in one of his letters to Earl Bathurst, dated
5th February, mentions it as a _somewhat imprudent production_; but his
Grace replied to the following effect:--
"Vienna, 5th February, 1815.
"SIR,--I received your letter of the 8th January, this morning, and I
have transmitted it to the Secretary of State, with my recommendation
of you.
"The Government fixed the occasions on which medals should be granted
to the army, and framed the rules, according to which I was bound
to make the lists of those to whom they were to be granted; and not
having received their orders to recommend for medals, for the service
at Arroya del Molinos, Alba de Tormes, Bejar, Aire, or at Arriverette,
it was impossible for me to recommend you for a medal at Fuentes
d'Onoro, or in the Pyrenees, according to the rules by which I was
bound to make out the lists of those I recommended. I have not an
accurate recollection of the lists for Bayonne, the Nivelle, Orthez,
and Toulouse; but of this I am very certain, _that I have never failed
to do your services justice_, as it was my earnest desire to render it
to every officer and soldier I had the honour of commanding.
"I have nothing to say about the selection of the officers recently
appointed Knights Commanders of the Order of the Bath. I did not know
their names till I saw the list of them in the _Gazette_. If you had
known these facts, I hope that the same spirit of justice by which I
have always been animated, would have induced you to spare me the pain
of reading the _reproaches and charges of injustice_ contained in your
letter; and that you would have defended me in the 92nd Regiment; and
would have shown them that the regulation, and not I, deprived you of
those marks of honour which they wished to see you obtain. As these
facts are in the knowledge of everybody, it is scarcely possible to
believe that you were not aware of them, and I attribute the harshness
of your letter solely to the irritation which you naturally feel in
considering your own case. However, the expression of this irritation,
however unjust towards me, and unpleasant to my feelings, has not
made me forget the services which you and your brave corps rendered
upon every occasion on which you were called upon; and, although I am
afraid it is _too late_, I have recommended you in the strongest terms
to the Secretary of State; and have the honour to be, &c.,
"Wellington.
"To Lieut.-Colonel Cameron, 92nd Regiment."
Cameron saw there was something at least generous in the tone of this
letter, and he sent a memorial for the Order of the Bath; for the medal
which had been given to officers engaged at Fuentes d'Onoro, and also
for the Order of the Tower and Sword. Wellington replied as follows:--
"Vienna, February, 1815.
"SIR,--I have received your letter of the 13th January, and the copy
of your memorial; in answer to which I can only inform you, that I
had no concern whatever in the selection of the officers of the army
lately under my command to be Knights Commanders of the Order of
the Bath; and as I see that the number limited is filled, I am quite
certain that no application I can make will answer any purpose. I
will inquire about your claim to a medal for Fuentes d'Onoro. I have
recommended you for the Portuguese Order of the Tower and Sword; and
have the honour, &c.,
"Wellington.
"To Lieut.-Colonel Cameron, 92nd Regiment."
Fassifern received the Portuguese order, but he was too much of a
Highlander to forget the first unmerited affront, of being omitted or
forgotten; and now we can but hope that this omission of the great duke
was, at least, an unwitting one.
Like every Highlander of the old school, and like many of the present
day, Cameron believed in the Taisch, or Second Sight; he had one other
fancy, a dread of being on the water, or at sea; thus he who would face
without flinching a shower of grape or hedge of bayonets, has been
known to grow pale at the rocking of a small boat.
When at home, on leave, in 1815, he visited Mor'ar, in Lochaber, the
seat of Colonel Simon M'Donald, a retired officer who had joined the
92nd at their first muster in 1793. One day when passing along a
corridor together, and about to enter the dining-room, M'Donald started
back, with his eyes fixed in their sockets, his face pale as death, and
his limbs trembling.
"In God's name, what is the matter Mor'ar?" asked Cameron.
"Nothing," replied M'Donald, after a pause, and greatly agitated;
"nothing."
"You _have_ seen something, Simon," continued Cameron, impressively,
for he knew, or believed, that the gift of the Taisch was hereditary in
the family of Mor'ar.
"Well, then, I have seen something, Fassifern," said M'Donald, passing
a hand over his eyes with a troubled expression; "but do not ask me
what it was."
Mor'ar was thoughtful and sad for a long time after, and it was
currently believed that he had seen some vision of his old friend's
approaching end; for the day-dreams of the Highland seers are always
fraught with death and sorrow. Immediately after this, war broke out
again; Bonaparte quitted Elba, returned to Paris, and resumed the reins
of government, while Louis XVIII. withdrew to Ghent.
Wellington once more took the field, and the 92nd Highlanders were
ordered to Flanders, with the other forces under his command. Cameron
hastened to rejoin, in Ireland, where the regiment was still stationed.
Its second battalion, under Lamond of that ilk, had been disbanded at
Edinburgh, all save twelve sergeants and 174 soldiers, who, with five
officers, marched to Portpatrick to join the head-quarters; and on this
route an interesting episode occurred.
As the Highlanders, with pipes playing, marched past a little wayside
cottage, an old and white-haired man came out to see them, and was
immediately recognised as their brave and favourite general in Spain,
Sir William Stuart, who, neglected by the Government, had retired there
to brood over his unrequited services. A hearty cheer welcomed "_Auld
Grog Willie_." Then the brave Stuart burst into tears, and wept like
a child. The detachment was formed into line, and inspected by him;
perhaps the last military duty he ever performed, for rumour says that
he died soon after of a broken heart.
Cameron embarked with his Highlanders at Cork, for Ostend, from whence,
with eight battalions under his command, viz., the third battalion of
the Royal Scots; the 28th, 32nd, 42nd, 44th, 79th, 92nd, and third
battalion of the 95th Rifle corps, he marched, _viâ_ Ghent and Bruges,
to Brussels, where, on the 3rd June, 1815, his Highlanders, with the
brigade to which they belonged--the 5th or Sir Denis Pack's--were
reviewed by Wellington, then a field-marshal. In the 5th corps were
also the 1st Royal Scots, the 42nd Highlanders, and 44th Regiment.
When Pack's brigade was under arms in the Park of Brussels, the Duchess
of Richmond, who had been Lady Charlotte Gordon, passed in an open
carriage along the line. Colonel MacQuarrie, of the 42nd, gallantly
made his Highlanders _present arms_ to her, as the Duke of Gordon's
daughter, while the pipes played a salute; but on her approaching the
92nd, Cameron, still true to his old feud with her brother the marquis,
gave the order--"Gordon Highlanders, order arms--stand at ease!" and
thus coldly was the fair duchess received by the clan regiment of her
father.
On the 12th June, Napoleon left Paris at the head of his brave
army, and the British poured from Brussels. "The 42nd and 92nd
Highlanders marched through the Place Royale and the Parc," says
the "Circumstantial Detail;" "one could not but admire their fine
appearance, their steady, military demeanour, with their pipes playing
before them, and the beams of the rising sun shining upon their
glittering arms. On many a highland hill and in many a lowland valley
will the deeds of these brave men be remembered. It was impossible to
witness such a scene unmoved."
It was at four o'clock, on a bright midsummer morning, when the
Highlanders of Pack's brigade marched through the Namur gate, and,
mounted on a black Spanish horse, Fassifern was at the head of the
92nd. Gallant MacQuarrie led the Royal Highlanders. They were in the
division of Sir Thomas Picton, and, about two o'clock in the day,
came within range of the French artillery in front of Gemappe, near a
farm-house, now immortalised as _Les Quatre Bras_, where the main road
from Charleroi to Brussels is crossed by that which leads from Nivelle
to Namur. This was doomed to be, as his friend Mor'ar had, perhaps, too
surely foreseen, the scene of Cameron's last achievement.
The 92nd were ordered to line a ditch in front of the Namur road, on
the left flank of the farm-house; Wellington took his station near, and
a hot cannonade swept over them. The proud and fiery Cameron, still
pursuing his feud with the duke, never deigned to take the slightest
notice of him, but allowed him to pass and repass his post without
according either salute or recognising. At four in the afternoon the
Black Brunswick which failed in a charge in front of this position,
and their brave prince fell by a mortal wound. Inspired with new
ardour, a body of French cavalry, which had taken the colours of the
69th, or South Lincolnshire Regiment, swept forward, and then the
92nd, the moment the Brunswickers were past, poured an oblique but
deadly volley upon the foe, piling men and horses breast high before
the roadway. Attended by one soldier, his servant, M. Bourgoyne, an
officer of these horse chasseurs, clad in light green uniform, tried
to escape round the flank of the 92nd. His brass helmet had fallen
off, and displayed his curly black hair; he was a handsome young man,
and waved his sabre, repeatedly shouting "_Vive l'Empereur_." Cameron
evinced no disposition to molest this gallant Frenchman, but Wellington
exclaimed, "92nd, d----n it, do not let that fellow escape." Fifty or
sixty men then fired at him; but, such was the speed of his horse, the
smoke, confusion, and inutility of firing with fixed bayonets, that he
escaped all their shots, and caracoled his horse along the whole line
of the 92nd. Then private Harold Chisholm, and a corporal of the 42nd
Highlanders (who had lost his regiment and joined Cameron), unfixed
their bayonets, knelt down, fired, and the chasseur fell to the earth,
while his charger limped away on three legs. M. Bourgoyne had been
shot through both ankles. Several Hanoverians now rushed forward to
bayonet him, but he was rescued by Lieutenants Chisholm and Ewen Ross,
who had him borne to the rear. Lieutenant Hector Innes encountered his
servant, who was run through from behind by a Belgian lancer and slain.
M. Bourgoyne was afterwards sent to Brussels; and his family in Paris
expressed to Lieutenant Winchester, and other Highland officers, their
deep gratitude for his preservation.
Again the chasseurs charged, and again they were repulsed; while a
fire of cannon and musket-shot was thinning fast the ranks of Cameron.
Forming under cover of these attacks, the French infantry, flanked by
artillery, possessed themselves of a two-storied house, and in heavy
column advanced beyond it with great spirit. At that moment,
"92nd!" exclaimed the Duke of Wellington, waving his cocked hat,
"prepare to charge."
Fassifern raised his bonnet, set spurs to his horse, the whole regiment
sprang over the ditch which bounded the road, and with bayonets
charged, dashed through the smoke upon the enemy, and routed them.
Officers and men fell fast on every side; but on went the 92nd until
the gable of the two-storied house at the corner of the Charleroi road
broke the centre of their line. Then they formed up in two wings, rank
entire, with the house in the centre; and Cameron sent forward his
cousin Ewen Ross, with the light company, into a wood of olives to
skirmish, where he received a severe wound in the groin. At that time
the grape-shot of the French artillery was sweeping the corn-field
between the wood and the farm-house, and shredding away the ripe ears
like flakes of snow in the wind. A body of French, who occupied the
upper story, were firing briskly from the windows; and others who lined
a thick thorn hedge, defended the avenues to the building.
Here it was that the brave Cameron, of Fassifern, fell; but the
accounts of his death, as related by Siborne and others, are not
strictly correct in detail. He had led his Highlanders close to the
hedge, when a shot from the house passed through his belly, entering on
the left side, and passing out on the right, tearing the intestines,
and inflicting a mortal wound. At the same moment his horse sank under
him, pierced by four musket balls.
The regiment gave a wild cheer, burst in the gates of the garden, and
fearfully was he avenged by the charged bayonet and clubbed musket;
but ere this Captain William Grant, Lieutenants Chisholm, Becher, and
M'Pherson were killed, and soon after were barbarously stripped by the
French. Nineteen officers of the 92nd were wounded, and 280 rank and
file killed and wounded. The aged mother of Chisholm received a widow's
pension from the Government, and Campbell, the adjutant, brought his
claymore and watch home to her in Strathglass, as mementos of that dark
day at Les Quatre Bras.
"The warlike and lamented Colonel Cameron," says his cousin Lieutenant
Ewen Ross (92nd), who was wounded on that day by his side, and whose
letter is now before me, "Cameron, than whom there was not a braver
or better officer in the best or bravest of armies, was left to the
chance care of his orderly sergeant, William Grant, who with a private
of the 4th company led him carefully and slowly to a square of office
houses at Quatre Bras. His horse being perforated by four musket balls,
could carry him no further, and was then shot. The colonel was then
carried in a blanket to Gemappe by Sergeant Grant, Colin Mackenzie the
drum-major, two drummers named MacLean, and three MacRaes belonging to
the band."
Ewen M'Millan and another Highlander carried Cameron into what the
soldiers not inaptly named the _bloody hospital_ at Gemappe, where
his wound was at once pronounced to be mortal. On the position being
abandoned, in his hereditary hatred and horror of the French, he
expressed great dread of being left to die in their hands; and by nine
in the evening his faithful and sorrowing foster-brother procured a
common cart, the only vehicle to be had, and placed him in it with
Ensign Angus M'Donald, who was also severely wounded, and conveyed
them towards Brussels. On the way Cameron asked if the enemy had been
defeated? M'Millan answered "yes," though such was not the case, but
the poor fellow's heart was ready to burst.
"Defeated--then I die happy!" said Cameron; "but, oh! I hope my dear
native country will believe that I have served her faithfully."
After this the power of language failed him; but Angus M'Donald (who
afterwards died from the effect of his own wound) related that he
heard him praying fervently in Gaelic, and in whispers. He was sinking
fast. As the cart passed near where his cousin Ross lay wounded, the
latter sent his servant, Angus Sutherland, to inquire how he was; but
Cameron's speech was gone--he could only shake his head mournfully,
without replying; and just as the cart entered the village of Waterloo,
he laid his head on the breast of the brave and good M'Millan, on
whose arm he had reclined, and expired without a sigh.
His faithful follower conveyed the body in by the Namur gate, through
which Cameron had that morning ridden forth at the head of his
Highlanders, and took it straight to the billet they had occupied in
Brussels. As he was obliged to rejoin the regiment without delay for
the coming conflict at Waterloo, he made a rough deal coffin, and in
this placed the body of his master, brother, and friend--for Cameron
had been all these three to the poor Highland private; and thus he
interred him, still in his full uniform, by the side of the King's
Avenue, on the Ghent road, the Allée Verte. This was on the evening of
Saturday, the 17th of June. The body was conveyed to its hastily-made
tomb, in a common cart, for poor Ewen could afford nothing better; and
the only persons who accompanied him were the landlord of the billet,
an honest Belgian, and three wounded Highlanders, who, with their open
scars, had tottered out of Brussels to pay the last tribute to him they
loved so well, and had followed so long.