Peace having been restored at home, the Scots Fusilier Guards, with other regiments, returned to Holland in 1747, where the French, in their absence, had made considerable progress. The only event of importance which occurred in the campaign was the battle of Val, in which the immense superiority of the French compelled the retreat of the British, under the Duke of Cumberland. In 1748 peace was concluded at Aix-la-Chapelle.
Disputes arising as to the boundary line of the British and French colonies, and neither party accepting a peaceful solution, war was declared in 1756. Whilst the reputation of the British arms was being gloriously sustained on the distant continent of America and in Lower Germany, the Guards were engaged in frequent descents upon the French coast. At St Cas they specially distinguished themselves. The peace of 1763 secured to our colonists the quiet possession of the fruits of their own industry against the cupidity of the French. Scarcely had this result been attained when difficulties arose with the colonists themselves, by their refusal to be taxed by the home government without an equivalent representation. Our armies were accordingly recalled in 1775 to the American continent, whilst the colonists, preparing for a vigorous defence, allied themselves with their late enemies, the French. The Scots Fusilier Guards formed a part of the British expedition, and under Clinton, Howe, and Cornwallis, upheld their ancient reputation for discipline and valour in the fresh and difficult warfare to which, in the desolate wilds of the New World, they were called. This unfortunate war, fraught with disastrous results, and waged with great fury and bitter hate on both sides, was concluded in 1783, and secured the independence of the colonists, who formed themselves into a Republic, under the designation of the United States.
In 1782 the Duke of Argyll had been promoted to the colonelcy of the Scots Fusilier Guards.
France, too long enslaved but now suddenly emancipated from the galling tyranny of “the privileged orders,” writhing under all the miseries of Revolution, had ruined every vestige of righteous government, and consigned the nation to the more cruel bondage of a despot mob. At length these evil influences were incarnated in the demon rule of the “Reign of Terror.” Bankrupt in every sense, to feed the starving crowd who daily clamoured for bread, proved a task too hard for the wretched creatures who had been elevated to power through the blood of their predecessors, and who called themselves the Government, whilst the whim of the people continued them in favour. As they were but the Government of a day, so they cared little for the consequences beyond their own time. To maintain their popularity, and if possible avert the fate which ever threatened them from the blind fury and unbridled passion of the mob, they gladly entered upon a universal crusade against the governments and liberties of neighbouring nations, hoping thereby to direct the merciless wrath of the people into this new channel, and so save themselves. Soon the ranks of the armies were recruited by a fierce and undisciplined multitude. But the very magnitude of these armaments proved their ruin, and but for the spasmodic efforts of the Revolutionary tyrants in the national defence, which achieved marvels, the Revolution must have been crushed at this early stage. A small British force, including the Coldstream and Scots Fusilier Guards, was sent over to the Netherlands, under the Duke of York, who vainly endeavoured to stem the torrent of aggression in that direction. Equally fruitless were the attempts of the British Cabinet to patch up an alliance amongst the nations, so as effectually to unite them in defending the liberties of Europe. Although the victory of Lincelles graced our arms, still, alone, our troops could not hope for success against the immense armaments that continued to emerge from France. The British were therefore compelled to recede before the advancing tide, and postpone “the day of reckoning.”
Amongst the many ruthless and reckless, yet bold and able men which the Revolution produced, none claims such a space in history, none so suited his times, none was so equal to the crisis, as Napoleon Bonaparte. His brilliant achievements in Italy under the Consulate had already taken the public mind by storm, when in 1801 he invaded Egypt, crossed the sterile desert, overthrew the feeble cohorts of the Sultan, and threatened to add Syria to the empire of the French. At Acre his legions were for the first time arrested by the firmness of British valour. In 1801 a British army, including the present Coldstream and Scots Fusilier Guards, was sent to Egypt, under Sir Ralph Abercromby, to expel the invader. Thirsting for some new field of conquest to feed his ambition, Napoleon had returned to France, leaving General Menou to make good the defence. The defeats of Mandora and Alexandria effectually broke the already sinking spirit of the French, and resulted in their abandonment of Egypt. In consideration of their efforts in this service, the Coldstream and Scots Fusilier Guards have been allowed the distinction of “the Sphinx,” with the word “Egypt.”
NAPOLEON
The cloud which for a moment dimmed the lustre of his arms, as this province was wrested from his sway, was soon dispelled in the glories that elsewhere crowned his efforts, especially in Spain, which, by the foulest perfidy, he had virtually made a portion of his vast empire. Frequent expeditions had been contemplated—some had sailed, two at least had landed on the shores of the Peninsula—still nothing decisive had been accomplished towards aiding the Spanish and Portuguese in the expulsion of the French. In 1809, however, a powerful British force under Sir Arthur Wellesley, afterwards “the Great Duke,” was sent out, including the Coldstream and Scots Fusilier Guards. It is unnecessary at present to follow them throughout the glories of the war, as we shall have occasion to do so in after chapters; enough for our purpose to mention the battles of Talavera (1809) and Barrosa (1811), in which they specially distinguished themselves.
Having delivered Spain, Sir Arthur Wellesley, now Lord Wellington, advanced into France, and sorely pressed the retiring foe. It needed all the ability of Marshal Soult to hold together the shattered remnant of his broken and disspirited army. With masterly tact and skill he preserved a seeming order in his retreat, so as to save the army from the ignominy of a flight. Meanwhile, France having exhausted her resources, her people became tired of the yoke of the Emperor, who, whilst fortune smiled upon his arms, had been to them a very god, but now that the spell of victory was broken, was revealed in truer colours as the ambitious yet mighty despot. Martial glory, as the ruling passion of the nation, had bewitched the people, and received in ready sacrifice the best blood of the land. Long, too long, had the power of Napoleon, like a dark shadow, rested upon one-half of the known world, whilst the empty vanity of unhappy France was charmed by delusive visions of victory. The times were sadly changed. With a melancholy joy Europe had witnessed the utter ruin of the splendid and countless host which the fiat of the mighty chief had pressed into his service. Buried beneath the snows of a Russian winter—hurled in confusion back upon his own land—
“The might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,