“To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pain’d,
But by ease that’s inglorious no fame can be gain’d;
And beauty and love’s the reward of the brave,
And I maun deserve it before I can crave.”
INDIA—GIBRALTAR—CEYLON—1777–1798.
Whilst the American continent was the scene of a sanguinary and bitter
strife, the embers of war were being quickened into flame in another and
far distant province of our vast colonial empire. In India the
usurpation of Hyder Ali had occasioned the interference of the British,
awakening the ill-disguised hatred of the native race against the
grasping policy of the British, whose cupidity had already appropriated
much of their native land, and whose avarice was only too ready to
embrace any farther opportunity for aggrandisement. The incendiaries of
France had been busy sowing the seeds of jealousy and distrust of the
British rule, which soon produced its malignant fruits in the cruel and
remorseless war that ensued. Thus encircled and assailed by enemies from
so many quarters at once, our Government, in its dire extremity, called
upon the patriotism of the country to supply the means of defence. The
result was most satisfactory; and in no case did the appeal receive a
more cordial response than amongst our clansmen, from whence were drawn,
in the course of eighteen months, upwards of 12,500 Highlanders. From
the following list of the regiments raised in 1778 to meet this
emergency, the subject of our present sketch may be selected:—
72d Regiment, or Royal Manchester Volunteers, disbanded in 1783.
73d Highland Regiment, numbered the 71st Regiment in 1786.
74th Highland Regiment, disbanded in 1784.
75th Prince of Wales’ Regiment, disbanded in 1783.
76th Highland Regiment, disbanded in 1784.
77th Regiment, or Athole Highlanders, disbanded in 1783.
78th Highland Regiment, numbered the 72d Regiment in 1786.
79th Regiment, or Royal Liverpool Volunteers, disbanded in 1784.
80th Regiment, or Royal Edinburgh Volunteers, disbanded in 1784.
81st Highland Regiment, disbanded in 1783.
82d Regiment, disbanded in 1784.
83d Regiment, or Royal Glasgow Volunteers, disbanded in 1783.
The Earl of Cromarty and his son, Lord MʻLeod, having been partners in
the guilt of rebellion in 1745, were made partners in the punishment
which followed. At length pardoned, Lord MʻLeod was permitted to pass
into honourable exile. He found employment in the Swedish army, where he
rose to the rank of Lieutenant-General. Opportunely venturing to return,
he was unexpectedly received with much favour by the King, and his offer
to raise a Highland regiment on his forfeited estates gladly accepted.
His success was worthy of his zeal; and at Elgin, in 1778, he appeared
at the head of a magnificent corps of 840 Highlanders, 236 Lowlanders,
and 34 English and Irish, which were accordingly regimented as the
Seventy-third, afterwards our Seventy-first Regiment. The success of
this corps induced the formation of a second battalion, which soon
attained its complement. Although styled the “Glasgow Highland Light
Infantry,” that western metropolis can boast no legitimate claim to an
interest in its formation beyond the thirty-four English and Irish
recruits, who, it is said, hailed from Glasgow. It acquired the
property, at a later period, when a second battalion was being grafted
upon the parent stem, when many of its citizens enlisting, manifested so
strong a predilection in its favour, as induced the government to confer
the present title, and ever since the Glasgowegians have proudly adopted
the Seventy-first as their own.
Almost immediately on its completion, the first battalion was embarked
for India. Landing at Madras in 1780, it became the nucleus for the
Highland Brigade, which the subsequent and successive arrival of the
Seventy-second, Seventy-third, Seventy-fourth, Seventy-fifth, and
Ninety-fourth Highland regiments constituted. These earned distinctions
for gallant service almost exceptional to themselves. It is worthy of
note—eliciting our surprise, yet reflecting infinite credit on our
arms—that notwithstanding the insignificance of the British force,
opposed to the countless hosts of the Indian chiefs—generally as one to
ten—we almost always prevailed. Had the native pride been less rampant,
and the Indian chiefs submitted to the superior generalship of the
French officers sent out to discipline their troops—wherein was
admirable material for good soldiers—the danger to the British would
have been greater, and success more exceptional. Fortunately for us, the
incapacity of these sable chiefs to command, and their exceeding fear of
dictation, lost them many an opportunity, and in the end proved our
safety. It is strangely true of the Indian soldier that, in the field,
when well led, he behaves with the utmost firmness, whilst, in defence
of fortifications or walled towns, he betrays a weakness which
altogether belies any favourable impression of his resolution previously
formed. Notwithstanding the overwhelming superiority of the enemy who,
under Hyder Ali, threatened annihilation to the small force of 4600 men,
including the first battalion of the Seventy-third (as we must as yet
call the Seventy-first), these, under Major-General Sir Hector Munro,
dared to advance into the interior. Meanwhile, a division of 3000 men,
under Lieut.-Colonel Baillie, descending from the north, strove to
effect a junction with the army of General Munro. The hesitation of the
latter, when in presence of the foe, to prosecute his advance, and
secure his junction with the former, placed the small force of Colonel
Baillie in a position of peril. This opportunity, vigorously improved by
Hyder Ali, occasioned its destruction, which, with two companies of the
Seventy-third, and other troops under Lieut.-Colonel Fletcher, had,
despite the treachery of the guides, threaded their way through the
jungle, and arrived as a reinforcement from Major-General Munro, but in
reality as so many more victims who should be engulfed in the fatal ruin
so nigh. The terrible disaster which ensued, and the calamitous result
which yielded so many brave men prisoners into the cruel, merciless
power of Hyder Ali, can never fail to inspire feelings of the truest
sympathy. With a hundred thousand men, he descended with the most
sanguinary fury upon this little and devoted column. Even when the whole
ammunition was, by an unlucky accident, blown into the air in their very
midst, and the British guns silenced, they remained unconquered. The
converging hosts of the enemy drew closer around the little band of
heroes, and poured in upon them a deadly fire of artillery and musketry,
to which they could no longer reply. Reduced to 500 men, “History cannot
produce an instance, for fortitude, and intrepidity, and desperate
resolution, to equal the exploits of this heroic band.... The mind, in
the contemplation of such a scene, and such a situation as theirs was,
is filled at once with admiration, with astonishment, with horror, and
with awe. To behold formidable and impenetrable bodies of horse, of
infantry, and of artillery, advancing from all quarters, flashing savage
fury, levelling the numberless instruments of slaughter, and darting
destruction around, was a scene to appal even something more than the
strongest human resolution; but it was beheld by this little band with
the most undaunted and immoveable firmness.... Like the swelling waves
of the ocean, however, when agitated by a storm, fresh columns
incessantly poured in upon them with redoubled fury, which at length
brought so many to the ground, and weakened them so considerably, that
they were unable longer to withstand the dreadful and tremendous shock;
and the field soon presented a horrid picture of the most inhuman
cruelties and unexampled carnage.”[C] Happy were those who found on the
burning sands of Perambaukam “a soldier’s grave;” happy indeed, compared
with the cruel fate of the survivors, who, reduced from 4000, scarce
mustered 200 prisoners, nearly all of whom were wounded. Colonel
Baillie, stripped, wounded in three places, was dragged into the
presence of the victor, who exulted over him with the imperious tone of
a conqueror. Baillie replied with the true spirit of a soldier, and soon
after died. The remainder, cast into the dungeons of Bangalore, scantily
fed on unwholesome food, were doomed to endure a miserable imprisonment
for three long years. These trials, however, served only to bring out,
in brighter effulgence, the characteristics of the Highland hero. “These
brave men,” says General Stewart, “equally true to their religion and
their allegiance, were so warmly attached to their officers (amongst
whom was one afterwards destined to win a mighty fame as their gallant
leader—Sir David Baird), that they picked out the best part of their own
food and secretly reserved it for their officers; thus sacrificing their
own lives for that of their officers, as the result proved, for out of
111, only 30 feeble and emaciated men ever emerged from that almost
living tomb.” Mrs Grant says in her narrative, “Daily some of their
companions dropped before their eyes, and daily they were offered
liberty and riches in exchange for this lingering torture, on condition
of relinquishing their religion and taking the turban. Yet not one could
be prevailed upon to purchase life on these terms. These Highlanders
were entirely illiterate; scarcely one of them could have told the name
of any particular sect of Christians, and all the idea they had of the
Mahommedan religion was, that it was adverse to their own, and to what
they had been taught by their fathers; and that, adopting it, they would
renounce Him who had died that they might live, and who loved them, and
could support them in all their sufferings. The great outlines of their
religion, the peculiar tenets which distinguish it from any other, were
early and deeply impressed on their minds, and proved sufficient in the
hour of trial.
Footnote C:
Narrative of the Military Operations on the Coromandel Coast from 1780
to 1784, by Captain Innes Monro, of the Seventy-third Regiment.
‘Rise, Muses rise, add all your tuneful breath;
These must not sleep in darkness and in death.’
“It was not theirs to meet Death in the field of honour; while the mind,
wrought up with fervid eagerness, went forth in search of him. They saw
his slow approach, and though sunk into languid debility, such as
quenches the fire of mere temperament, they never once hesitated at the
alternative set before them.”
“Billeted by death, he quarter’d here remained;
When the last trumpet sounds, he’ll rise and march again.”
In 1781, in the army of Lieutenant-General Sir Eyre Coote, the regiment
took the field, although sorely weakened by sickness and the sword.
After considerable man[oe]uvring on both sides, the two armies
confronted each other on the plains of Porto Novo. The British, not
amounting to 8000 men, of which the Seventy-third was the only Line
regiment, were opposed to a vast host, exceeding 100,000.
Notwithstanding our great inferiority in numbers, the enemy signally
failed in every attempt to annihilate, as he imagined, the heroic band
who fought beneath the banner of Albion. Discouraged and worn out with
these repeated and unavailing assaults, the foe was only too glad to
retire and escape from such a vain struggle, where superior numbers
could make no impression on bravery and discipline, but only entailed
disgrace and defeat. The excellent valour of the regiment on this
critical occasion, received the warmest approbation of the
Commander-in-chief. Sir Eyre Coote was particularly pleased with the
gallantry of one of its pipers, who, amid the hottest of the fire,
ceased not to cheer his comrades by the shrill scream of his bag-pipes,
which was heard even above the din and roar of battle—so pleased, he
exclaimed, “Well done, my brave fellow, you shall have silver pipes when
the battle is over,” a promise which he most munificently fulfilled. Sir
Eyre Coote always retained a warm interest in, strong attachment to, and
confidence in the Highland regiments, which he learned to esteem as the
flower of the British army. Having followed up this great victory by a
series of further minor successes, the army, reinforced by a body of
troops from the Bengal Presidency under Colonel Pearse, anew arrived
upon the blood-stained plains of Perambaukam, so pregnant with
melancholy associations, and which, yet reeking with the gore of the
murdered brave, bore memorials of the disaster which had overtaken so
many of their comrades but a year previous; stirred by these painful
recollections, our army consecrated the spot to avenge thereon the
butchery which had so lately bereaved them of their brethren. The foe,
too, were inspired for the fight, but by a very different feeling.
Superstition bade them believe their gods propitious to the spot, and,
as with them, to give over the British as the victims of a new
sacrifice. Thus impelled, it may well be inferred that the struggle was
severe and bloody, although, as usual, British prowess triumphed.
To relieve the important fortress of Vellore, our army advanced by the
Pass of Sholingur, where it encountered the enemy. A protracted and
desperate fight ensued, but nothing could withstand the impetuous and
persevering assaults of the British, who ultimately drove the enemy
before them. In the spring of 1782, the relief of Vellore was a second
time accomplished, despite the strenuous efforts of Hyder Ali to prevent
it. The after and unsatisfying inactivity of our army permitted a
powerful French force, landed from the fleet of Admiral Suffrein, to
effect a junction with the Indian army, and these together succeeded in
reducing the important strongholds of Permacoil and Cudalore. These
successes, energetically followed up by Hyder Ali, threatened our utter
destruction, and brought about the battle of Arnee, in which the
Seventy-third was conspicuous under the leadership of Lieutenant-Colonel
Elphinstone and, more immediately, of Captain the Honourable James
Lindsay. The British, reinforced by the arrival of the Seventy-eighth
(now the Seventy-second) regiment, recently arrived from Europe, were in
a position to assume the offensive, and having anew provisioned Vellore,
undertook the siege of Cudalore, which was only abandoned for lack of
the requisite means of attack, thus postponing its fate for another
year. So deeply interested was the Commander-in-chief, Sir Eyre Coote,
in this undertaking, that, vexed with its miscarriage—esteeming himself
inadequately supported by Government in the attempt—grieved and
disappointed, he fell a prey to melancholy, which, ere an opportunity to
retrieve the present failure had come, the veteran chief had fallen. He
was succeeded in the command by Major-General James Stuart, and the
army, reinforced by the arrival of the Twenty-third Light Dragoons, the
One-hundred-and-first and One-hundred-and-second British regiments, and
the Fifteenth regiment of Hanoverian infantry, resumed the siege of
Cudalore under more auspicious circumstances. The defence was resolutely
maintained by the French under General Bussy. The besiegers so
vigorously pressed the enemy that he was at length compelled to withdraw
within the fortress. The loss on our side was very severe—the
Seventy-third had to mourn a melancholy list of nearly 300 comrades
killed or wounded. The news of a treaty of peace having been signed
between Great Britain and France, snatched the prize from our troops
which we had imagined within our grasp.
In 1786, the numerical title of the regiment was changed from the
Seventy-third to the Seventy-first, as at present, by the reduction,
etc., of senior corps.
Nothing of importance falls to be recorded in the course of our
narrative till the year 1790, when Tippoo Saib, the son and successor of
Hyder Ali, encroaching upon the territory of the Rajah of Travancore, a
faithful ally of the British, occasioned our interference, resulting in
a renewal of hostilities. In the army of Major-General Medows, the
Seventy-first and Seventy-second regiments formed the second or Highland
brigade, afterwards increased by the addition of the Seventy-fourth
Highlanders from Madras. As we shall have frequent opportunity of
following the movements of the brigade in after chapters, we will not
here burden our history with a repetition, contenting ourselves with the
simple mention of the chief events that ensued. Under General the Earl
Cornwallis, the Seventy-first was with the army in the various actions
which led to the siege and capture of Bangalore; thence it proceeded
with the expedition intended to act against Seringapatam, but which,
overcome by the force of circumstances, in the meantime retired,
awaiting a more favourable opportunity, when better prepared to
accomplish the design. In the interval, the regiment was creditably
engaged in the reduction of the strong forts of Nundydroog, Savendroog,
etc., which had hitherto hindered our progress. At length, in 1792, the
army resumed the enterprise against Seringapatam. This forward movement
alarmed Tippoo Saib, who, dreading the fate which awaited his capital,
strove to arrest the army by accepting battle. The result proving
unfortunate, the enemy were driven within the island on which the city
stands, and even here, although very strongly posted, the Mysoreans had
become so straitened in their circumstances, and were so pressed by the
British, that, suing for peace, the Sultan was only too glad to purchase
the safety of his capital and preserve the last remnant of his once
mighty dominion by any sacrifice which the conquerors chose to impose.
Disappointed of a further triumph, the army retired, laden with the
spoil which had ransomed the haughty metropolis and its ambitious
prince.
Holland having caught the revolutionary fever which prevailed in 1793,
and being allied with France, was involved in the war with Britain,
which, arising out of the sins of the Revolution, had already torn from
these states nearly their entire colonial dominions. Pondicherry, on the
Coromandel coast, had succumbed to our arms; and the valuable island of
Ceylon was, in turn, wrested from the Dutch by a British expedition,
including the Seventy-first regiment. This was the last achievement of
any importance which was attained by the corps in India. In 1798, it
received orders to return home, and, after a long voyage, landed in
safety at Woolwich.
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