“Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit;
For ’tis a throne where honour may be crowned
Sole monarch of the universal earth.”
PENINSULA—AMERICA—WEST INDIES—CANADA—“THE WRECK
OF THE BIRKENHEAD”—1806–1862.
As soon as the Seventy-fourth had returned, the business of recruiting
occupied the earnest attention of its officers. Removed to Scotland for
this purpose, it failed to complete its establishment, and, in
consequence, was transferred to Ireland to receive its complement by
volunteers from the militia. In 1810 it received orders to prepare for
foreign service; and, accordingly, embarked from Cork for Portugal,
under Lieut.-Colonel the Honourable Robert De Poer Trench, with a total
strength of 730 effectives. Arrived in the Tagus and disembarked, it was
advanced to Viseu. Its junction with the allied army of Lord Wellington
was hailed with delight by that chief, who ever felt a warm interest in
its history, as the “Assaye regiment” whose heroes had won for him his
first great victory. Complimenting Colonel Trench, he said: “If the
Seventy-fourth would behave in that country as they had done in India,
he ought to be proud to command such a regiment.” Included in the third
or well-known “Fighting Division” of Major-General Picton, the
Seventy-fourth was brigaded with the first battalion of the Forty-fifth,
the Eighty-eighth, and three companies of the fifth battalion of the
Sixtieth Regiment. From the concentrated and overwhelming military might
of Napoleon, Marshal Massena was detached at the head of 75,000
veterans, styled the “Army of Portugal,” charged with the destruction of
the British who had dared to dispute the claims of his master to the
dominion of the Peninsula. In presence of such a superior foe, as
regards numbers, Wellington resolved on retreat; and, accordingly,
withdrawing to his own defences, induced the enemy to draw off in
pursuit. Taking advantage of every position which by natural or
artificial strength afforded an opportunity to check or impede the
pursuit of the French, Lord Wellington frequently severely punished the
temerity of the foe. Thus, in the battle of Busaco, where the
Seventy-fourth for awhile withstood the attack of an entire French
column, until sustained by the Ninth and Thirty-eighth regiments, it
drove the enemy down the hill.
Finally arrested by the formidable lines of Torres Vedras, the French,
vainly endeavouring to blockade the position, fatally suffered from
disease and want, whilst our troops enjoyed every comfort in abundance
and in safety within the entrenchments. Convinced of the futility of any
attempt to surmount the defences of the position, Marshal Massena was
constrained in turn to retreat, closely pursued along the banks of the
Mondego by the British. With the third division, in the van of the army,
the Seventy-fourth was almost incessantly engaged driving the enemy from
post to post. For the relief of Almeida, Marshal Massena, considerably
reinforced, once more ventured to advance. Encountering the light
companies of the first, third, and fifth divisions, and the second
battalion of the Eighty-third Regiment, in occupation of the village of
Fuentes d’Onor, the French laboured to expel them. Reinforced by the
Twenty-fourth, Seventy-first, and Seventy-ninth regiments, and
ultimately supported by the Forty-fifth, Seventy-fourth, and
Eighty-eighth regiments, the whole of the enemy’s sixth corps was routed
and driven from the village it had at first won. Interrupted in the
siege of Badajoz by the approach of the combined armies of Marmont and
Soult, the British temporarily retired. A similar diversion by the army
of Marshal Marmont in favour of Ciudad Rodrigo, in like manner disturbed
its blockade. Whilst quartered in this vicinity, the third division of
our army, threatened by an attack from a very powerful corps of French,
which, taking advantage of the immediate presence of Marshal Marmont,
had undertaken a sortie from the fortress, retreated. Under command of
General Montbrun, the enemy so severely pressed the British division,
that, in retiring, the Seventy-fourth became separated from the rest,
and was generally believed to have been captured. A long detour, under
the friendly shield of night, enabled the regiment to escape the danger
and rejoin the division in its camp at Guinaldo. Overjoyed in their safe
return, Major-General Picton uttered these memorable words, expressive
of his faith in the valour of our Highlanders, saying, “he thought he
must have heard more firing before the Seventy-fourth could be taken.”
On the retirement of the French, returning to the duties of the siege,
the regiment, on the 19th of January, was included in the storming party
which, despite the most strenuous resistance of the foe, won Ciudad
Rodrigo. This achievement was immediately followed by the re-investment
of Badajoz; a fortress esteemed impregnable, the more so as it was
defended by some of the choicest troops of France. The progress had been
so satisfactory, and the breaches in the ramparts deemed so far
practicable, that by the 6th April, 1812, the assault was ordered, and
the Herculean duty of storming the defences of the castle committed to
the third division; accomplished, nevertheless, after “a combat so
furiously fought, so terribly won, so dreadful in all its circumstances,
that posterity can scarcely be expected to credit the tale.” Lieutenant
Alexander Grant of the Seventy-fourth, leading the advance, entered the
castle, but fell in the moment of victory. “Foremost in the escalade was
John MʻLauchlan, the regimental piper, who, the instant he mounted the
castle wall, began playing on his pipes the regimental quick step, ‘The
Campbells are coming,’ at the head of the advance along the ramparts, as
coolly as if on a common parade, until his music was stopped by a shot
through the bag; he was afterwards seen by an officer of the regiment
seated on a gun-carriage, quietly repairing the damage, regardless of
the shot flying about him, and presently recommenced his animating
tune.” Although the other assaults were not so successful, still the
triumph of the third and fifth divisions at their several points of
attack so turned the defences of the place, that resistance appearing
hopeless, the fortress was surrendered.
Various man[oe]uvres at length brought about the battle of Salamanca,
where the French, under Marshal Marmont, were totally defeated, driven
“as it were before a mighty wind without help or stay.” The brunt of the
action was sustained by the French division of General Thomières,
originally 7000 strong, but which, notwithstanding the most splendid
illustration of heroism, was utterly cut to pieces or dispersed. In this
great battle the third division figured conspicuously. Lord Londonderry
writes: “The attack of the third division was not only the most
spirited, but the most perfect thing of the kind that modern times have
witnessed. Regardless alike of a charge of cavalry and of the murderous
fire which the enemy’s batteries opened, on went these fearless
warriors, horse and foot, without check or pause, until they won the
ridge, and then the infantry giving their volley, and the cavalry
falling on sword in hand, the French were pierced, broken, and
discomfited. So close, indeed, was the struggle, that in several
instances the British colours were seen waving over the heads of the
enemy’s battalions;” whilst the advance in unbroken line of the
Seventy-fourth, for upwards of three miles, testified to its efficiency,
and drew forth the plaudits of Major-General Pakenham, then commanding
the division, who vehemently exclaimed, “Beautifully done,
Seventy-fourth! beautiful, Seventy-fourth!”
The glorious results immediately flowing from this great victory, were
crowned in the capitulation and occupation of Madrid. Whilst stationed
in the capital, the gaieties of which agreeably relieved the hardships
of the camp, our officers at the same time beheld the splendid misery
the tyrant-extortionating rule of France had entailed upon the citizens,
many of whom, once great and opulent, now reduced to abject beggary,
gratefully accepted the assistance of their deliverers. In these deeds
of charity the officers of the Seventy-fourth were not wanting, but,
with those of the Forty-fifth, daily fed about two hundred of the
starving grandees.
Meanwhile, the converging of the various French armies of the Peninsula
for the relief of Burgos, once more necessitated the retreat of the
British, who, evacuating Madrid, retired towards Portugal, and finally
halted, going into winter quarters, behind the Agueda. The spring of
1813 found the British army largely recruited, and with new energy
prepared to resume the offensive—to begin that victorious march which
stayed not until the heights of Toulouse owned the triumphs of the
British flag.
At the great battle of Vittoria, which may be said to have broken the
last remnant of French power in Spain, the third division was most
severely engaged; and the gallantry of the Seventy-fourth was anew
conspicuous in its successful attack upon the village of Arinez, whence
it drove out the enemy. In the after advance, over a rugged country, in
pursuit of the retiring columns of the foe, the unbroken line of the
Seventy-fourth attracted general attention, and its admirable order was
highly commended. In the grand attack which completed the ruin of the
French, the third division, being foremost, was assailed by a fiery
storm of artillery and musketry, which made fearful chasms in its ranks.
At length the success of the fourth division from another quarter
compelled the enemy to abandon his strong position, and soon converted
the retreat into a disorderly flight. Marshal Soult was afterwards sent
to command the army in the Peninsula, as “Lieutenant of the Emperor,”
and never was his genius more conspicuous. His master-mind came to the
rescue; he re-organised the broken remnant of the once mighty host, and,
largely reinforced, once more advanced, thereby inspiring new confidence
in his troops, and casting a momentary gleam of hope athwart the
lowering horizon which presaged the storm steadily moving vengefully
towards devoted France. The hope thus excited was speedily dissipated,
and every effort failed to retrieve the disastrous consequences of
Vittoria. Driven successively across the “Pyrenees,” the “Nive,” and the
“Nivelle,” he found a refuge and a rest for his dispirited and wearied
troops within the fortress of Bayonne. At “Orthes” and “Toulouse”
Wellington required a great exercise of his own abilities as a chief to
overthrow the dogged resolution of his great antagonist, who, equal to
the crisis, by prodigies of skill, strove to avert the dissolution of
his master’s empire. In all these closing actions of the war, the
Seventy-fourth, in the “fighting” third division, more than creditably
maintained its part, returning home in 1815 crowned with glory.
Ireland became thereafter the scene of its more peaceful service. Whilst
stationed at Fermoy in 1818, new colours were presented to the regiment;
and the shreds of the old ones—which had been so victoriously borne in
the battles of the Peninsula—burnt to ashes, had their sacred dust
treasured up in the lid of a gold sarcophagus snuff-box, inlaid with
part of the wood of the colour-staves, and bearing the following
inscription:—“This box, composed of the old standards of the
Seventy-fourth regiment, was formed as a tribute of respect to the
memory of those who fell, and of esteem for those who survived the many
glorious and arduous services on which they were always victoriously
carried, during a period of sixteen years, in India, the Peninsula, and
France. They were presented to the regiment at Wallajahbad in 1802; and
the shattered remains were burned at Fermoy on the 6th of April, 1818.”
Having thus disposed of this venerable memorial of its early renown, the
regiment embarked at Cork for Halifax, Nova Scotia. Its service in
America and Bermuda in 1825, and again in 1828, affords nothing of
importance to detain the reader. Returning to Ireland in 1830, it was
employed in various garrisons in that country until, ordered on foreign
service, it sailed for the West Indies in 1834. Thence, in 1841, it was
removed to Canada, returning to England in 1845. By desire of the
officers, the Seventy-fourth was restored to its original dignity as a
Highland corps, having the trews instead of the kilt; and in 1846
re-visited Scotland for a brief period, whence it proceeded to Ireland,
where, associated with the Seventy-fifth and Eighty-eighth regiments,
and other troops, it was encamped in the vicinity of Thurles and
Ballingarry, to overawe the rebellious, and repress the foolish attempt
at insurrection which, stirred by idle demagogues, had excited the
people during the famine of 1848. This military demonstration proved
sufficient to suppress, without blood, these ill-advised seditions.
One event remains to be recorded in our present sketch, ere we close the
brief summary; one event which alone is all-sufficient to glorify the
Seventy-fourth, although casting a melancholy interest over its history,
yet enshrining the memory of its brave as _heroic_; one event which,
although belonging in common to the records of the Seventy-third and
Ninety-first, as well as other regiments, deserves its place here out of
respect to the lost and gallant officer commanding; one event which
sheds a brighter lustre, as it reveals in truer character the qualities
of the British soldier, than the exciting and sanguinary achievements of
the battle-field; one event which wakes the soul to truest sympathy, and
bids the heart bleed at the recitation of the narrative.
“—— The youthful and the brave,
With their beauty and renown,
To the hollow chambers of the wave
In darkness have gone down.”
One event which has bidden a gush of grief for the lost and brave from
the noble-minded of every clime. Such was the wreck of the “Birkenhead.”
This vessel, one of the finest in Her Majesty’s service, with a living
freight of 632 souls, including 14 officers and 458 soldiers, draughts
from various regiments, reinforcements from home on their way to join
their comrades fighting in Kaffirland, reaching Simon’s Bay, had sailed
thence for Algoa Bay on the evening of the 25th February, 1852.
“Ah no!—an earthly freight she bears,
Of joys and sorrows, hopes and fears;
And lonely as she seems to be,
Thus left by herself on the moonlight sea,
In loneliness that rolls,
She hath a constant company
In sleep, or waking revelry—
Five hundred human souls!”
[Illustration: WRECK OF THE “BIRKENHEAD.”]
Striving to quicken the voyage by shortening the passage, the commandant
hugged the shore too closely off Cape Danger, and in doing so the vessel
struck upon a sunken rock whilst steaming at the rate of eight miles an
hour. So tremendous was the shock, that, although the night was clear
and the sea calm, the stately ship was in a moment a broken wreck. The
catastrophe occurred three miles from land, and six hours after
starting. Yet all save the vessel might have been saved, but for the
unfortunate command to back the engines, which had the effect, instead
of easing the vessel, to dash her amidships upon the rocks,
precipitating her fate; so that, in little more than half-an-hour,
breaking in two, she went down, with 9 officers and 349 men, besides
fully 80 of the crew. Whilst these so truly brave men were engulfed the
prey of the insatiate sea, _the weak and helpless—the women and
children, were all saved_, but only by such a noble sacrifice. The heart
sickens as we contemplate so dreadful a scene, thus pathetically and
feelingly narrated in the _New York Express_:—
“The steamer struck on a hidden rock, stove a plank at the bows, and
went to the bottom, we believe, in half-an-hour’s time. There was a
regiment of troops on board. As soon as the alarm was given, and it
became apparent that the ship’s fate was sealed, the roll of the drum
called the soldiers to arms on the upper deck. That call was promptly
obeyed, though every gallant heart there knew that it was his death
summons. There they stood as if in battle array—a motionless mass of
brave men—men who were men indeed. The ship every moment was going down
and down—but there were no traitors, no deserters, no cravens there! The
women and children were got into the boats, and were all, or nearly all,
saved. There were no boats for the troops—but there was no panic, no
blanched, pale, quivering lips among them!... Men like these never
perish; their bodies may be given to the fishes of the sea, but their
memories are, as they ought to be—immortal!”
These, records the _Spectator_—“the very men whom we shrank from when we
met them wearing flying ribbons in their battered hats, reeling through
the streets—were the same who went down in the ‘Birkenhead’—as which of
us can feel sure that he would have had nerve to do?—in their ranks,
shoulder to shoulder, standing at ease, watching the sharks that were
waiting for them in the waves—at the simple suggestion of their officers
that the women and children filled the boats, and must be saved first.
No saint ever died more simply; no martyr ever died more voluntarily; no
hero ever died more firmly; no victim ever met his fate in a more
generous spirit of self-immolation.”
Bravest of the brave, Lieut.-Colonel Seton of the Seventy-fourth,
displayed in his conduct, as commander of the troops, a nobleness, a
true courage, a self-sacrificing devotion, worthy of his country, and
which bespeaks the _man_—the _hero_; and than which history or biography
can furnish no brighter or more illustrious example. It is indeed a pity
so brave a spirit should have fallen; and it shames the living—
“That instinct
Which makes the honour’d memory of the dead
A trust with all the living—”
that no suitable memorial marks his fall, save the common tablet of a
common grief for a common loss which stands in the corridor of Chelsea
Hospital, bearing the following inscription:—
“This monument is erected by command of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, to
record the heroic constancy and unbroken discipline shown by
Lieutenant-Colonel Seton, Seventy-fourth Highlanders, and the troops
embarked under his command, on board the ‘Birkenhead,’ when that vessel
was wrecked off the Cape of Good Hope, on the 26th February, 1852, and
to preserve the memory of the officers, non-commissioned officers, and
men, who perished on that occasion, The names were as follows:—
“Lieut.-Colonel A. Seton, 74th Highlanders, Commanding the Troops.
Cornet Rolt, Serjeant Straw, and three Privates, 12th Lancers.
Ensign Boylan, Corporal MʻManus, and thirty-four Privates, 2d Queen’s
Regiment.
Ensign Metford and forty-seven Privates, 6th Royals.
Fifty-five Privates, 12th Regiment.
Serjeant Hicks, Corporals Harrison and Cousins, and twenty-six
Privates, 43d Light Infantry.
Three Privates, 45th Regiment.
Corporal Curtis and twenty-nine Privates, 60th Rifles.
Lieutenants Robinson and Booth, and fifty-four Privates, 73d
Regiment.
Ensign Russell, Corporals Mathison and William Laird, and forty-six
Privates, 74th Highlanders.
Serjeant Butler, Corporals Webber and Smith, and forty-one Privates,
91st Regiment.
Staff-Surgeon Laing.
Staff-Assistant-Surgeon Robertson.”
“Yet more! the billows and the depths have more!
High hearts and brave are gather’d to thy breast!
They hear not now the booming waters roar—
The battle-thunders will not break their rest.
Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave!
Give back the true and brave!”
In the last and most sanguinary war with the Kaffirs of South Africa,
which desolated that valuable colony between 1850 and 1853, the
Seventy-fourth was engaged, and fully sustained its illustrious
character. The enemy, sensible of his weakness, avoided meeting our army
in the field, and maintained a harassing series of skirmishes in the
bush, which proved most annoying and destructive.
It is remarkable that, in the course of our sketch, we should so
frequently have been pleasingly impressed with the duty of recording the
heroism of the officers of the regiment; and, commanded by such
distinguished chiefs, it is no wonder the corps, moulded in their image,
should fitly follow the good and glorious examples which have rendered
the Seventy-fourth so signally known to fame. In the African campaign,
its commanding officers are mournfully conspicuous as amongst the lost
and brave. Whilst employed in the operations against the Waterkloof Post
in November, 1851, Lieutenant-Colonel Fordyce was killed.
“At the moment he was hit, he was giving directions to a company of his
own well-loved corps, which was skirmishing in the bush, and the
position of which he wished to alter a little. Whilst raising his arm to
indicate the ground he alluded to, a huge Hottentot stepped rapidly from
a thick clump close by, and delivered the fatal shot; observing, with
characteristic cunning, the irreparable mischief he had done, he
screeched out, in hellish accents, ‘_Johnny, bring stretcher_,’ and,
turning on his heel, dived into the clump again before the infuriated
Seventy-fourth could wreak their vengeance upon him.
“Simultaneously they madly rushed on, and, in their too eager haste to
renew the carnage, they rendered themselves an easy prey to their savage
foe, who struck down Lieutenants Carey and Gordon, and many brave men,
before they observed the necessity of rallying, when the sad work of
carnage was amply avenged. Such, however, was the number of the wounded,
that a waggon had to be sent from the hill to the spot to carry off the
sufferers to their bivouac.
“Fordyce lived a quarter of an hour after receiving his death-wound. The
ball had passed through his abdomen; and, as he was borne away in the
consciousness of approaching death, he was just able to utter, in faint
accents, the words—‘_Take care of my poor regiment_—I AM READY,’ when he
passed placidly away. Such was the end of this brave soldier. In life,
straightforward, thoughtful, a friend to the poor and needy, and a truly
Christian man; so in death he was calm, resigned, noble, and mindful of
his duty both to God and man. His latest expression showed that, while
he committed his regiment to the care of those whose duty it was, his
uppermost thoughts lay in the final work of meeting his Maker. Such was
Fordyce, beloved and respected by all who had the good fortune to know
him!”
The regiment left the Cape for India in November, 1853, and has since
continued in the Madras establishment. During the Indian Mutiny, a
detachment of the Seventy-fourth, in the autumn of 1857, formed part of
a moveable column under Brigadier Whitlock, on field service in the
Kurnool district; and, in November, 1858, the head quarters composed a
portion of a moveable column, under Brigadier Spottiswoode, in the Nizam
country. The regiment is now stationed at Bellary.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE SEVENTY-EIGHTH HIGHLANDERS;
OR,
ROSS-SHIRE BUFFS.