FOOTNOTES:
[1] A nice warm reception for a prodigal son. I was not 21, and it set me thinking of the comfortable home in Norwich that I had left.
[2] Now she can boast of other heroes—to wit, Troubridge, of Inkermann; Windham, of the Redan; Wilson, of Delhi; and another Wilson, of El Teb.
[3] The total force engaged that night was about 1,500 men against 15,000;—the same number of unconquerable British soldiers that stood triumphant on the fatal Hill of Albuera.
[4] And that vow was kept not only by the 97th.
[5] The 97th could be distinctly heard shouting “Remember Captain Vicars, boys,” “Stick to them;” and the Officers shouting “Give it home, my lads.”
[6] It is well I had picked men with me, or all would have been taken prisoners or killed on the spot.
[7] The Generals’ watches had been timed alike, and as the minute hand denoted twelve (mid-day) the French sprang forward.
[8] A great number of these men were ready for anything, life or death. On the night of the 7th September they assembled in hundreds in front of their lines, and committed themselves into the hands of an all-wise God in prayer and praise, while others burst forth with the National Anthem. Such were the men who stormed Sebastopol. Hundreds of them never saw another sun set.
[9] After our stormers had entered the Redan the enemy came at us in swarms, but were kept back by the bayonet.
[10] It was an Irishman named Welsh who was instrumental in saving my life. It turned out that he had noticed me fall, and when he found that he had to retire from the Redan, he carried me up to the ditch and let me slip in, and then with assistance got me out of it, and carried me across that terrible 200 yards, being shot through both legs in doing so. Before he reached our leading trench, some other good Samaritan picked me up and ran away with me. Poor Welsh died in India, at Ferozepore, in 1865, and, as a mark of respect, I put a stone over his remains. He was a rough diamond, but every inch a soldier and a good loyal subject. I hope I may state now, without egotism, from the day I found out that Welsh had done me such service, I did all that lay in my power for him and for his poor mother.
[11] Lieutenant Bott.
[12] The Scots Greys.
[13] Foreigners have no more idea than a child how to use their hands; they will scratch and kick, but if you give them a good go-along, they will not face up again.
[14] A familiar word used in the North of England.
[15] Including irregulars.
[16] They consisted of six regiments of Cavalry, 14 regiments of Infantry, a number of batteries of Artillery, all drilled troops, and a great mob of followers, all well-armed out of our magazines.
[17] Regiments that first confronted the rebels at Ghazee-oo-deen-Nuggur, and again at Badulee-Ke-Serai, under command of Brigadier Wilson. Two batteries of Artillery and a portion of Engineers were with the column.
[18] Regiments that joined them from Umballah, just after the last fight, under Sir H. Barnard, K.C.B., who then assumed command of the army.
[19] Regiments that joined the field force on the heights of Delhi, at various periods during the siege.
[20] Which was stationed at Fort Murdan.
[21] “When by the blessing of Providence internal tranquillity shall be restored, it is our earnest desire to stimulate the peaceful industry of India, to promote works of public utility and improvement, and to administer its government for the benefit of all our subjects resident therein. In their prosperity will be our strength, in their contentment our security, and in their gratitude our best reward. And may the God of all power grant to us, and to those in authority under us, strength to carry out these our wishes for the good of our people.”
[22] “She shall possess the gates of her enemies.”
[23] “Faugh-a-Ballagh,” clear the road.
[24] Now the Inniskilling Fusiliers.
[25] Great Queen.
[26] £300,000.
[27] Native pipe.
[28] Born May 11, 1789; died April 8, 1872—Extract from Family Bible.—T. G.
[29] His Grace the Duke of Wellington, the hero of a hundred fights, was never once defeated in the open field, but as a man and a gentleman he has openly acknowledged that he often committed faults, and with any other than British troops would have been defeated. His men always got him out of scrapes or muddles with the queen of weapons. No end of instances could be quoted where a handful of men have decided a doubtful field, and have, as it were, snatched victory from the foe. Napoleon’s grim-faced veterans of the Guard on more than one hard contested field had to bow before the conquering sons of Albion. Let us be but true to ourselves, and loyal to our beloved Sovereign, and El Bodón, Albuera, Victoria, or Waterloo, may easily be repeated.
[30] Before any man was admitted into the Old Guard, he had to pass through twelve campaigns, and for the middle Guard, six campaigns. They might, therefore, well be called veterans.
[31] The 3rd or Buffs left upon the field—killed, 4 officers, 4 sergeants, and 280 men, or rank and file; missing, 2 officers, 15 sergeants, 1 drummer, and 161 rank and file, and then the proud remainder stood as conquerors. A number of the wounded died, or were killed by our own Artillery, who had to dash across the field in pursuit of the enemy; such was the terrible field that the two Fusilier Regiments won. One of the Battalions of the 7th was almost annihilated, but the proud remainder stood as conquerors on that fatal hill.
[32] The battle of Goojerat was fought in 1849, our forces being commanded by the late Lord Gough, when the Sikhs and Afghans were completely overthrown, and the Punjaub annexed.
[33] No fear of rain, except in the monsoon, which sets in once a year and lasts for three months.
[34] Our men had looked upon death in every form, but could not look into that hideous well a second time.
[35] History must draw a veil over the sufferings of these unfortunate martyrs. Their murderers, it should be said, were excited to frenzy with bhang.
[36] Dr. Cay, of the Coldstream Guards.
[37] Alison.
[38] Alison.
[39] They hate us now as much as they did then; and some of these fine mornings they will find out our strength in India, with its teeming millions under our glorious old flag, who would die to a man before they would yield. They will find that “unity is strength,” for our equal laws since the Mutiny have bound them to us in love. Hundreds of thousands of them have through us learnt the way of salvation, and God, even our God, is blessing us as a nation for it.
[40] Nelson, as an instrument in the hands of God, had done his work. He was raised up just at the right time to combat and humble infidelity. This wonderful man was, and always will be, the darling hero of England. This illustrious hero will live as long as our language endures, as the one who stood fearlessly at the deadly breach, and bid defiance to all our enemies. His noble conduct on all occasions when in presence of the foe was sublime. Other heroes have fought desperately to uphold the honour of our flag, but we can point to none whose conduct was so majestic. Scotland can point to a Moore—a Clyde; Ireland can point to a Wellington; Wales can point to a Picton; but all would bow in adoration to the illustrious Norfolk hero.
[41] He believed that his sceptre was to be universal. He bid for heavy stakes, viz., “the empire of the world.” It was only the detested Albions that thwarted his plans. He would exclaim in his rage or excitement, “I will humble them in the dust yet, and lay London in ashes.” It was in order to get at us that this terrible campaign in Russia of 1812 was undertaken. Alexander, backed up by England, would not suffer himself to be dictated to by the conqueror. He was a far-sighted man, but was blinded to the fact that he was rushing on to destruction, that he was fighting against the strong arm of the Great I Am. Alexander hated us as much as Napoleon did; he carried two faces under one hat; but, with his vast sea-coasts, he dreaded our power, which he well knew he could not withstand.
[42] What would he have said, had he lived to witness or to hear of the disgraceful capitulation of Marshal Bazaine at Metz? Why, he would have shot the traitor on the spot.
[43] “The heroic Ney was of an old Irish family.”—Alison.
[44] Quintal, 112 lbs.
[45] Allison.
[46] A little over two years rolled on; millions of money our forefathers advanced to the straggling nations of Europe. Hundreds of thousands of poor fellows were launched into eternity. The last act was fought out on the bloody field of Waterloo, and the final scene of the great drama came to an end in the midst of a terrible storm on the rock of St. Helena, 5th May, 1821. On his deathbed, Napoleon acknowledged to those around him that there was a God, who was Great Britain’s strong arm.
[47] This noble old veteran was for many years treated very harshly, to say the least of it, by Napoleon. His great offence was that he would persist in carrying a Bible with him, and using it as often as an opportunity presented itself. All Napoleon’s cuffs and sneers did not affect him. His counsel during the Moscow campaign had more weight with Napoleon than that of the fiery Murat or the heroic Ney. In his younger days he had sworn to stand or fall by the great conqueror, and he would not forsake his benefactor. He died as he had lived—a soldier in a twofold sense. He was the only one of Napoleon’s marshals or generals that professed Christianity, and he often had a stormy path; but owing to his constancy, his tormentors became his best friends. The great conqueror was not the only one that was melted to tears at this noble Christian’s death.—Allison.
[48] The conflicts at Montmirail, Vauchamps, Champanbert, and Montereau, in the campaign of 1814, were combats, not battles. Ligny was a pitched battle, but it could not be called a decisive victory. No prisoners or standards, and few guns, were taken.
[49] Napoleon says (and no mean authority) that “Clum and Albuera were the two heaviest battles on record for the numbers engaged.” It was bludgeon work; on each field they were what may be called gluttons. The former against the Russians and Prussians; the latter, against the English. Our allies, the Spaniards, bolted. On both fields the French were beaten.
[50] The crushing blow at Vittoria loosened the grasp of Napoleon on Spain. It swept them, like chaff before the wind, out of their fertile plains, valleys, and mountains, and at once exposed their extraordinary system of forced contributions, i.e., “That war should maintain war.” In one province alone, it was found that, for the year 1811, the French Marshal had imposed a contribution of two hundred million reals—or about two millions sterling—upon its unhappy people. This sum was equal to five millions sterling in England. The half of this sum exhausted the whole money in the province in gold, silver, plate, and jewels; the remainder was taken by force in grain, cattle, clothing, and all articles necessary for the troops. The inhabitants were exasperated beyond all bounds, and were butchered in cold blood; and their daughters and wives were insulted and disgraced before their husbands’ and fathers’ eyes, who, if they opened their lips, were at once shot, or cut limb from limb. It roused the people to frantic madness; they swore to conquer or die.
[51] If the finger of God was ever shown in the history of a nation, it was during those troublesome times Europe was convulsed. Whole nations trembled at the feet of the great conqueror. Victory followed victory at a rapid pace. But God had steeled the minds of our forefathers to combat him when, to all appearance, it was a doubtful struggle; but with noble devotion, perseverance, and valour unequalled in the history of the world, although achieved with painful sacrifices, God in His providence watched over old England, and deemed us as a nation worthy to accomplish such great things. Britain, as a nation, had for years past openly acknowledged God’s providential Fatherly care, and stood up openly and determinately to abide in the trust of the strong arm of the Great I AM.
[52] It would have been more in accordance with his past glorious career to have placed himself at the head of his faithful Old Guards, and here met a soldier’s death for that beautiful France he pretended to love so well. Posterity would then have regarded him as an undaunted hero, true till death.
[53] It was repeatedly proved, during this sanguinary struggle, that man to man, the enemy’s cavalry, although clad in glittering steel, could not withstand our heavy Dragoons. They rode completely over them, time after time; their ringing shouts of Vive l’Empereur being more than once altered to “Quarter! quarter!” with the Union Brigade riding victoriously through or over them. It was then as at Balaclava: “Hurrah! hurrah!” and “Hurrah for Ould Ireland and Scotland for ever.” They shall not lord it over us. And then, as if they were pasteboard (the foe is advancing)—
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Sound! Bid your terrible trumpets bray, Blow, till their brazen throats give way. Sound to the charge! Sound, I say. Hurrah! hurrah! |
[54] Kick them.
[55] That is more than thousands of foreigners can say, although they live in the midst of us year in and year out.