CHAPTER XXXVIII.
But hark! what means yon dismal wail—
The shriek that’s borne upon the gale?
It comes from India’s sultry plain—
It calls for vengeance from the slain,
Nor calls in vain to Scotland.
’Tis the destroying hordes of hell,
Whose hearts with fiendish passions swell,
Whose swords on ruined Beauty fell—
The Brave, the Fair, the Weak. Farewell!
Ye’ll be revenged by Scotland.
Then Scotland, by brave Havelock led,
Rush’d o’er the field of murder’d dead,
Fighting for “bleeding Beauty’s” sake—
The very earth itself might quake
Beneath the wrath o’ Scotland.
Haste ye to Lucknow’s fainting brave;
Too long they’ve battled with the slave—
The weak and helpless Fair to save
From rapine, ruin, and the grave—
Hope comes wi’ bonnie Scotland.
And now brave Havelock’s work is done;
He sets like to the evening sun;
By him the crown of glory’s won—
His God, beholding, saith “Well done!”
The Lost—the Loved o’ Scotland.
PERSIA—INDIA—1817–1862.
Escaping from the tedious details of peaceful service which for upwards of forty years mark the history of the Seventy-eighth, we now follow that gallant regiment to India—the scene of its early glory, and since embalmed in our memory, as presenting the most splendid testimony to its heroic character.
INDIA.
In 1857 we find it transferred from Bombay to Persia, and engaged in the expedition destined to chastise its vainglorious and presumptuous monarch. An easy triumph crowned the efforts of our arms. At Koosh-ab the Seventy-eighth was present with credit; although that success was achieved rather by diligent perseverance in long marches and battling with inclement weather, than by any very remarkable feat of arms. This name and that of “Persia” were gained for the regimental colour during the campaign, in scenery hallowed by sacred memories, being supposed to be the site of the garden of Eden.
But we hasten to look upon a darker picture—to find our Indian empire on the verge of ruin, convulsed as in the agonies of dissolution; its native military, whom we had trusted and boasted, become traitors; their smothered vengeance, cherished through years of duplicity, bursting forth to deluge our vast dominion, and almost wrest it from us by a cruel rebellion; all that once gloried in the very name of British doomed by an unpitying and relentless revenge to utter destruction, consigned to be the subjects of a gigantic perfidy. The mine had exploded, and awful were the horrors of the tragedy it revealed! Helplessness consumed by the devouring sword; beauty wasted by demons of lust and passion; hopeless bravery sacrificed to satisfy a bloody appetite—whilst with fiendish shouts the villains gloated over the murders in which their hands were embrued and which stained their souls, and rejoiced in the atrocities they had committed.
Never was the British soldier placed in circumstances so trying, and never did he display such heroism—a heroism which, equal to the emergency, was alone able to deliver him from the foul conspiracy of 150,000 armed and trained rebels, who encircled him and thirsted vehemently for his blood.
Delhi, the great central tower of rebellious strength, was the scene of months of hard fighting and sore privation; but over all these British valour triumphing, was rewarded in the reduction of that important stronghold, and the utter discomfiture of its daring defenders. But Lucknow reversed the picture. There we find the British besieged by a countless host of the enemy; there we regard a handful of brave men resolved to sell their lives as dearly as possible, rather than yield to the ruthless rebels who in multitudes encompassed the Residency. To save the brave garrison from the terrible fate which threatened them, and release the crowd of starving and emaciated women and children who, claiming the protection of the soldier, had found shelter there—to save and relieve these, a little army might have been seen advancing by rapid marches, encountering the greatest dangers, and eagerly pressing onwards to avenge their slaughtered friends. Stirred to marvellous achievements by the appalling traces of massacre perpetrated on the helpless and innocent, and which were too apparent all around—roused to heroic action, nerved to meet death or conquer in the awful and unequal struggle, the little army of Brigadier-General Havelock pressed vigorously forward to help and to avenge. It comprised of European Troops: The third company of the eighth battalion of Royal Artillery, (76 men); the First Madras Fusiliers, (376 men); the Sixty-fourth Regiment of Foot, (435 men); the Seventy-eighth Highlanders, (284 men); the Eighty-fourth Regiment of foot, (190 men); Bengal Artillery, (22 men); Volunteer Cavalry, (20 men). Native Troops: Ferozepore Regiment, (448 men); the Thirteenth Irregular, and the Third Oude Irregular Cavalry, (95 men); Galundauze (18 men).
From Cawnpore the rebels had pushed forward to Futtehpore, purposing to destroy a small detachment of British under Major Renaul, but these having succeeded in effecting a timeous junction with the army of Havelock, the mutineers, amounting to 3,500, were encountered by that chief, and in a few minutes totally routed. The victory was ascribed by the conqueror “to the British artillery, to the Enfield rifle, to British pluck, and to the blessing of Almighty God.”
On the 15th July Brigadier-General Havelock came up with the enemy first at the village of Aeng, and next at the bridge over the Pandoo Nudee, and was successful in each instance. Anew in position under Nena Sahib (Doondoo Punt), the rebels made a momentary stand at Ahirwa, but were immediately defeated by a brilliant charge of our Highlanders. The arch-traitor Nena Sahib, finding himself closely pressed by the British column, and unable to defend Cawnpore, retired from that fortress, after having, with savage barbarity, massacred the women and children who by the foulest perfidy had fallen into his power. The remains of these victims of his cruelty were afterwards discovered in the bottom of a well; and the horrors of the tragedy are said so to have moved the soul of our Highlanders, that, vowing an oath of vengeance on the blood-stained spot, they were stirred to redeem it on subsequent occasions. Pursuing the enemy in the course of his memorable march to Lucknow, Havelock defeated a strong body of rebels gathered near Unao. Thrice he attacked, and thrice he routed the mutineers who had as often congregated at Busherut Gunge, and once at Bithoor. Cholera attacking the British troops, so crippled the little army that, surrounded by foes, Havelock was compelled to delay his further advance until reinforced by Sir James Outram. On the arrival of these fresh troops on 16th September, the command, by seniority, devolved upon Sir James Outram; but with a chivalrous feeling highly to be admired, that excellent officer waived his claim, desiring Major-General Havelock to finish the good work he had so well begun and was so nigh gloriously completing, Sir James serving in subordination as a volunteer.
“On the 19th and 20th of September, the relieving force, amounting to about two thousand five hundred men, and seventeen guns, crossed the Ganges. The Fifth Fusiliers, Eighty-fourth, detachments of the Sixty-fourth, and First Madras Fusiliers, composed the first infantry brigade, under Brigadier-General Neill; the Seventy-eighth Highlanders, Ninetieth Light Infantry, and the Sikh Ferozepore Regiment, made up the second brigade, under Brigadier Hamilton of the Seventy-eighth; Major Cooper commanded the artillery brigade, consisting of Captains Maude, Oliphant, and Major Eyre’s batteries; Captain Borrow commanded the Volunteers and Irregular Cavalry.”
SIR HENRY HAVELOCK.
THE SEVENTY-EIGHTH, OR “ROSS-SHIRE BUFFS.”
Having distributed the army, Havelock resumed his forward march, and after encountering several powerful bodies of the rebels, and always with the same success as hitherto, Lucknow was reached, and the beleaguered and almost despairing garrison relieved. This happy result was dearly purchased by the death of Brigadier-General Neill, a most gallant and able officer. Colonel Hamilton, who led the Seventy-eighth amid these labyrinthian dangers, won a distinguished name by his valour and coolness in many critical moments.
Most deeply regretted, the hero who had achieved this crowning triumph fell asleep in the very arms of victory. The living exponent of all that was truly noble, generous, brave, and heavenly, entered into his rest, there to enjoy the better blessing of his God, to wear the crown of glory which cannot fade, and which is more to be desired than all the perishing treasures of earth, the gilded pageant of a world’s renown, or even the fitful gratitude of his country. Such was the death of Sir Henry Havelock, which almost immediately followed the final relief of Lucknow by our deservedly favourite chieftain, Sir Colin Campbell (now Lord Clyde).
“Brave Havelock’s gone! let Britain mourn—
Her brightest, boldest hero’s gone;
Strew Indian laurels round his tomb,
For there he glorious triumphs won.
“There he accomplished deeds of might,
Which stamp’d him bravest of the brave—
Cut through a host, put foes to flight,
And helpless prisoners dared to save.
“A Christian warrior—stern, yet mild,
He fought for Heaven, his Saviour’s home,
Yet shrunk not from the battle-field,
Where all his talents brightly shone.
“But now Death’s mandate from on high
His Father called; he was prepared
For mansions sure beyond the sky;
Earth’s honours could not him reward.
“And now he’s buried with the brave—
His battle’s fought, his vict’ry’s won;
His country’s cause he died to save,
Nor sunk until his work was done.
“Let England, then, embalm his name—
’Mongst heroes he may justly shine;
For soldier he of nobler fame—
His banner bore the stamp Divine.”
In the latter defence of Lucknow the Seventy-eighth sustained a prominent and a very honourable part, cheerfully enduring the privations of a straitened and continued siege, and ever foremost in repelling the foe when he dared to attack.
The heart of the Scottish people followed with a yearning interest the movements of the Seventy-eighth throughout this memorable campaign. With gratitude our countrymen hailed the regiment, when a kind Providence recently restored it to its native land, where every grade of society united to do honour to that bravery which so conspicuously graced our national history upon the dismal page of the Indian mutiny, and in commemoration thereof a monument has been erected in Edinburgh, an Illustration of which is given in this work. We close our sketch with the feeling that words have failed to express the just admiration with which we must ever regard this, the “scion of the Seaforth,” the “Saviour of India.”
INAUGURATION OF THE MONUMENT TO THE SEVENTY-EIGHTH, EDINBURGH.
PRESENTATION PLATE TO THE SEVENTY-EIGHTH AS THE SAVIOURS OF INDIA.