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.