Chapter VI (2)

We had then a fresh escort, commanded by an officer, but
were deprived of our sticks for the remainder of the march,
as they considered us dangerous even with that weapon. The
weather was now getting more severe every day, which
contributed a great deal to our hardships, having often to
face a blinding, drifting snow all day, and then lie down in
our frozen clothing. We still continued to receive great
kindness from the better class of Russians. In due course we
arrived in Veronidge, a distance of 1,500 miles from
Sebastopol. We remained here until our exchange took place.
We were all located in a large house expressly taken for our
quarters. A guard mounted daily over us, and we were allowed
our liberty through the town, but had to be in our quarters
at night. We had no work to do, and the gentlefolk of
Veronidge vied with each other in having us at their homes
to eat and sup with them. I must say that we were very
comfortable here until bed time came. We had no bedding of
any sort except a little straw, and our clothing was
nothing but a bundle of rags. We were not very long here
before we were supplied with a good suit of uniform by our
countrmen, residents in Russia. The clothing was nearly a
_fac-simile_ of our own. Our men now looked quite smart with
this new rig-out, and the inhabitants of the town seemed to
admire us. We were not long before each of us had his
sweetheart. After a time another party of English prisoners
arrived, men who had recovered from sickness, who had been
left behind on the road. Of course we must repair to a
public-house to have a meeting glass. It was night time when
four of us went in to enjoy ourselves, all peaceably
inclined. We found the house full of Russian soldiers. We
had only partaken of one glass when they insulted and struck
us, but the white feather was not to be shown here any more
than on former occasions, no matter what their strength
might be. As soon as the Russians commenced the disturbance
one of our men extinguished the lights: this added greatly
to our advantage, as the enemy were numerous, and pitched
into each other in the darkness. Our small party being equal
to the occasion, one of them broke up a sleigh (a cart
without wheels). I got possession of a portion of this and
my comrades the remainder, which we used in good style, and
soon cleared the house; upon our opponents gaining the
street others quickly came to their assistance. One of them
made a thrust at me with a sword. I warded it off my head,
but received a wound in the right hand. The fellow who
delivered the cut the next moment was biting the dust. I was
as unfortunate here as at Inkermann--was taken prisoner, and
conveyed to the police-station, covered with blood from my
own wound, as well as that of our adversaries. Next morning
I looked much like a man just coming out of a
slaughter-yard. I was taken before the magistrates just as I
was, not being allowed to wash. The court was well filled
with military officers. I had not the slightest knowledge
what the charge preferred against me was, being ignorant of
their language. The magistrate believed every word of the
witnesses against me, left his seat on the bench, came
forward to me, and was in the act of slapping my face (a
usual custom with their own prisoners), when I at once
placed myself in position to resist it (a fighting attitude,
English style). This took the old gentleman by surprise, and
set the whole court in roars of laughter, the military
officers in particular. He retired a few paces, cursing and
swearing at me, and again came forward to strike me. I again
placed myself in defence; the laughter was greater than
before. He never expected this from a prisoner. He had been
used to despotic authority with his own people. He
immediately sentenced me to seven days' imprisonment with
black bread and water, and 500 lashes at the expiration of
my imprisonment. I had done six days of it, when,
fortunately for me, a General Officer was sent from the
Emperor Nicholas to visit the prisoners, and to ascertain if
we were treated according to his instructions. I was brought
out of my cell to muster with the remainder, to show the
number the authorities were issuing pay for. There is no
trust to be placed in any Russian in authority; they rob
each other from the highest to the lowest. This state of
things is pretty well known, but through their despotic laws
cannot be stopped. (The Emperor Nicholas once said to an
English nobleman, he believed he was the only honest man in
Russia.) The General asked us several questions as to the
amount of pay we received, and if we received it regularly,
and how we were treated by the authorities. I took a pace to
my front and saluted him in English military style, which
took his fancy, as the salute of the Russian soldier is to
stand cap in hand when addressing an officer. I asked him if
he would allow me to have a word or two with him, which was
at once granted. I explained what had occurred, and how I
was treated by the very gentleman standing by his side, and
also the sentence he passed upon me, that I had one day more
to finish my confinement on black bread and water, when I
should receive the corporal punishment of 500 lashes. The
officer seemed delighted with my explanation, and the
straightforward manner in which I told him everything. He at
once placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, "You are a
fine fellow, you are a good soldier; I remit the remainder
of your punishment; you are released, join your comrades." I
have not the slightest doubt that the 500 lashes would have
killed me. This is one instance of the severity of their
despotic laws.

One day on going to the bazaar, or market, with a comrade of
my own regiment, we had to pass through a large square, and
in this were mustered 15,000 men, new levies to join the
army in the Crimea. Clergymen were present blessing their
new colours, and also giving them their blessing previous to
marching. One of the soldiers saluted my comrade with the
compliments of the day, which he politely returned. Another
of them deliberately spit in his face, calling him an
"English dog." The words were hardly uttered by him when my
comrade, a powerfully built man, knocked the fellow down
like a bullock in their midst. We were instantly surrounded
by numbers of them, and would soon have been made short work
of only for the timely interference of an officer, who had
witnessed the whole. This officer, with sword drawn, stepped
in between us and them, and ordered them to stand back and
clear the way for us to pass, saying at the same time to my
comrade (malidates), "You are a fine fellow." Instances like
this show plainly, no matter how British soldiers are
situated, that indomitable pluck cannot be stamped out of
them. During our stay in Veronidge a police officer was
appointed our paymaster. He was very irregular in issuing
our pay or allowance. On one occasion he left us fourteen
days in arrear. The consequence was we were in distress. We
all marched in military order to his quarters and formed in
line in front of his house. When he observed us he made his
appearance at his front door, enquiring our business there,
and came forward towards the right of the line. A tall,
powerfully built Irishman, belonging to the 4th R. I.
Dragoon Guards, stood on the extreme right, seemingly taking
very little notice of what was going on, as we had appointed
one to make our complaint. He walked straight up to this
dragoon, and gave him a slap in the face. The blow was no
sooner delivered than the dragoon returned the compliment
with a straight one from the shoulder. He fell as if he had
a kick from a horse. In an instant a number of police rushed
forward to arrest the dragoon, but we were equal to the
occasion, and would not allow him to be arrested. This
caused the affair to be officially reported and duly
investigated, when it was proved the police officer was at
fault. They cancelled his appointment, and severely
reprimanded him; and also issued a ukase (a special order
from the Czar) that no Russian officer was in future to
attempt to strike an English soldier, as it was not a custom
in the English army for officers to strike their men; and
the Russian officer that struck an Englishman must put up
with the consequence. This order had the desired effect, for
they never attempted it after this. The daily papers took it
up, it ran thus, "the French are too polite to kick up a
row, the Turks too frightened, but the English are neither
one or the other. Whenever they think they are insulted or
imposed upon, they resent it in grand style, no matter the
odds against them." We were informed by an English gentleman
of an occurrence that took place in St. Petersburg, with one
of our officers, a prisoner of war, who was in company with
a Russian gentleman of rank, walking in the streets, when he
was met by a Russian noble, who grossly insulted him, and
spit in his face. It was at once resented in true English
style; our officer's friend made it known to the Czar, who
had this brave noble summoned before him. The Czar said, "I
am informed you very much dislike the English, that you have
already given proof of the same, by insulting an English
officer and gentleman. I require such people as you; you
shall have a good opportunity of giving vent to your
dislike, you will be deprived of rank, all your property
confiscated, and join immediately our army at Sebastopol, as
a private soldier." This is another instance of their
despotic laws. We might well say, "O! England with all thy
faults I love thee still." After a few months stay at
Veronidge, we were visited a second time by an officer of
rank from St. Petersburg. He informed us that our exchange
had been arranged, and that we should start next day for
Odessa. The names of all the prisoners were called over, and
those cowardly ruffians called deserters, separated from the
men lawfully taken in action. Addressing the latter, he
said, "I am commissioned by our Government to inform you,
that any who wish to remain can do so; all who remain in our
country will receive two years' pay at the same rate as you
receive now, a piece of ground will be given you, and house
rent free for your lives; should you marry and have children
they will be all free subjects of Russia." After coaxing us
a little time, he said, "Step to the front all who wish to
remain in Russia." I am proud to say not a man embraced the
offer. He next addressed the deserters, informing them that
they were at liberty to return to their own people. At the
same time he reminded them of the severity of the English
martial law against deserters. "It is death, as no doubt you
are aware. When peace is settled, you will be sent to some
country where your own language is spoken; you will not be
allowed to remain in Russia; you are traitors to your own
country, and no ornament to ours." Two of the deserters
stepped to the front, and expressed a wish to return to
their own army. He again reminded them of the consequence.
One man said he did not care, that he would sooner be blown
away from the guns of his own army than stay a day longer in
their d----d country. The other man was of the same opinion.
These two men returned with us, and strange to say neither
of them were deserters, but out of their lines skirmishing
for grog, lost their way and got nabbed by the enemy's
outposts, but through some mistake of the Russians were
returned as deserters. The punishment awarded them was, on
rejoining, to forfeit their pay and service whilst in the
hands of the Russians. We did not march this time, but were
conveyed in cars covering from ninety to one hundred miles
per diem, changing horses every twenty-five miles. We were
not long before we arrived at Odessa; there were ninety of
us all told, but only fifty fighting men, the remainder
being camp followers. But the crafty Muscovite returned them
all as English soldiers and exchanged as such. We had to
remain a few days in Odessa for a ship to receive us. One
morning whilst there, the combined fleets of England and
France assembled before the town, and a small steamer with a
flag of truce put off from the fleet. She was met by one
from Odessa also bearing a truce; this was to give notice to
the authorities that the Allied fleets would open fire on
the town next morning. When this information was announced
to the inhabitants, I never shall forget the confusion that
followed, old and young, rich and poor, male and female,
carrying their movable property inland, out of the range of
fire. The whole town was lighted up with torch lights, to
enable the soldiers and press-gang to erect barricades in
the streets. The authorities at Odessa at once wired to
Kinburn for assistance. A strong force was at once put in
motion from that garrison, which was three days' march from
the threatened town. Next morning not a ship of war was to
be seen; all disappeared during the night. The force from
Kinburn had just got half way when the bombarding of that
town could be distinctly heard. This was a capital game of
war-chess by the Allied fleets. They had no intention of
bombarding Odessa from the first, British and French capital
being largely invested there, but it had the desired effect
of weakening the Kinburn garrison. After bombarding the
forts in grand style for a couple of hours, troops were
landed and the garrison surrendered. Next day the Agamemnon
came to Odessa for us in all the majesty of war, when we
were duly handed over, and right royally did these Trafalgar
Lambs and Nile Chickens treat us. She at once steamed off to
Kemish Bay and landed us, where we were directed to find our
respective regiments, and once more faced the enemy till the
conclusion of the war. I need hardly say we got a warm
reception from all ranks on rejoining from those who had
escaped the carnage of war during our absence from the
front.

JAMES WALSH,
Sergeant, 7th Royal Fusiliers.

AWFUL EXPLOSION IN THE CAMP.

LIEUT. HOPE AND THE 7TH FUSILIERS.

But I must proceed. We were, as I have said, now very comfortable. Sir W. Codrington, the former commander of the First Brigade of the Light Division, was appointed our Commander-in-chief in the beginning of November, 1855. Sir William had no sooner assumed the command than a terrible catastrophe occurred, that for a time threatened to destroy the whole of the old Light Division. About 3·30 p.m. on the 14th November, our camp was startled by a terrible explosion close to the Fusiliers' Hospital. We could not conceive what was up, but all at once, shot, shell, grape, canister, &c., were sent flying in all directions. One of the principal magazines in the French artillery park, just in rear of us, had exploded. Some hundreds of guns that had been captured from the enemy--some loaded with shot, some with shell, some with grape, and pointed in all directions--had been fired by the heat or the concussion, sending death and destruction all around for upwards of a mile. Wounded men were killed as they lay, and others wounded again. Some 500 shell were up in the air at one time, and about 60,000 ball cartridges were flying about the camp like hail. Huts were smashed to pieces and tents blown into the air. A number of poor fellows were so shattered that we could not tell who they were, or what regiment they belonged to. Our Allies suffered heavily. Their loss was 19 officers, and nearly 400 non-commissioned officers and men killed and wounded. Our loss, in a few seconds, was 5 officers and 116 non-commissioned officers and men. It was truly a horrible scene--men going about with baskets or skeps, picking up the remains of their comrades who had been blown to atoms. But, even in the midst of all this, men could be found ready to face almost certain death. A large windmill close by had been converted into a powder magazine by our people. Close upon 200 tons of powder and other explosives were lodged in it; the roof, doors, and windows were blown in, and the contents thus exposed, with tons of powder going off, and hundreds of rockets flying in all directions. The peril was imminent. Had one spark dropped into the mill, or had one of the fiery rockets fallen or burnt into it, another explosion would have ensued, and all within a radius of at least half a mile must have been destroyed. In the midst of the excitement, General Straubenzee exclaimed: "If the mill goes up, all is lost." Then, he called, in a voice of thunder, for volunteers from the 7th Royal Fusiliers, for an enterprise more hazardous than a forlorn hope--to climb the walls of the powder mill, and to cover it with tarpaulins and wet blankets. "It must be done, or all is lost!" Lieutenant Hope, and 25 men of the Fusiliers, immediately stepped to the front, and the gallant Lieutenant led his Fusiliers up to the top of the mill and covered it; while another party, consisting of men of the 34th regiment, the 2nd Battalion Rifle Brigade, and Artillerymen, courageously volunteered to block up the doors and windows with sandbags. Lieutenant Hope was presented with the Victoria Cross for his conduct,--and he deserved it. But surely every man of that noble band ought to have had something, if not the Cross! Had the mill gone up, our hospital, huts, and marquees, would have been destroyed, with every wounded and unwounded man in or near them, as we were only about 300 yards from the scene. As it was, we lost several men in killed and wounded, and would probably have lost many more, but for the fact that the greater portion were out on fatigue some three miles away. One man who has within the last few years made himself famous was dangerously wounded that day--Lieutenant F. C. Roberts, now Lieutenant General Sir F. C. Roberts, V.C. Thank God, I escaped once more, although it seemed as if all would have been destroyed. Our camping ground was covered with fragments of shell, and musket balls lay about in thousands. The hut that I should most likely have been in, had I not been in hospital, was blown to pieces with shell, the only man in it being dangerously wounded.

* * * * *

Once more I wrote home as follows:--

Camp before the Ruins of Sebastopol,
26th December, 1855.

My Dear Parents,

Just a few lines from this cold, bleak corner once more. I
am happy to inform you that, thanks to the good people at
home, we had a good day yesterday; Christmas was kept up in
camp in grand style, with plenty of good beef and pudding,
and a good fire or two in our huts; the day passed off very
comfortably, the only drawback being that both the geese
intended for my sub-division of the company, were walked off
with by some hungry Frenchman--the Zouaves got the credit of
it. I for one hope they did them good, as we had plenty to
eat without them. It's bitterly cold, but we have all got
plenty of warm clothing and waterproofs, and can almost bid
defiance even to a Crimean winter. If last year we had only
had half what we now have, many an aching heart at home
would be rejoicing, for men whose bones are now rotting in
the valley of Death, would most likely have been with us.
Our men look well and cheerful. We have got all sorts of
things out of the town, and are making ourselves quite at
home; the enemy treat us now and again to a long ranger,
just to let us know, I suppose, that we did not kill them
all on the 8th September. I have done no duty yet, am still
convalescent, my arm is in a sling and so is my head, but I
am happy to inform you that I am getting on capitally, I
must not walk about much, as it's so slippery. There is any
amount of life in the camp, and plenty of books to read; a
great number of the men who have been wounded keep returning
to their duty, and I do believe in the spring we shall march
to the north side the Russians to bleed, that is, if they do
not get out of the way. Our men are kept well in exercise,
marching out two or three times a week, from ten to fifteen
miles at a time; it would amuse you or any one else, to see
our men returning to camp with icicles, some of them six or
seven inches long, hanging to their beards and moustaches,
but yet we have capital health. I have had two or three
attempts at this letter. I hope you will be able to make out
this scrawl. My hand, I am sorry to inform you, is very
painful just now; the wounds in my head are rapidly healing.
I hope you will not forget me at the Throne of Grace. I must
now conclude,

Believe me ever, Dear Parents,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers.

A FEW FACTS.

The following facts may be of interest. According to the statement of one in high position just after the war was over, Russia lost half-a-million of men by sword, sickness, and fatigue, in forced marches through the inhospitable regions they had to traverse. The expense of the war that England had to bear, up to February, 1856, exceeded sixty millions sterling; the British had to convey nearly the whole of the French and Sardinian Armies to and fro, and nearly 400,000 tons of military stores. Without our transports our Allies would have been powerless--and yet our own men were dying like rotten sheep for the want of a few tents! The Turks might well say afterwards that our Government looked to others and forgot their own! It was not the fault of the Government, but there was a great deal too much red tape. If men were dying by wholesale, and the requisition for stores or necessaries was not properly made out, or in accordance with some intricate form that some old maid had been driven nearly mad in trying to bring out during the forty years' peace, the articles, it mattered not what they were, could not be had; "the return was incorrectly filled up," the men that would go anywhere and do any thing might die! The cold was so bitter that one could hardly feel the pen, but the return must be correct or no stores would be sent! Thousands of tons of food, clothing, blankets, and everything that could be thought of by a kind-hearted people at home, were, as I have stated in an earlier chapter, lying rotting at Balaclava, and could not be brought up to the front, for the want of a few hundred mules, that could be procured in Asia Minor and elsewhere for about £5 each. But I will leave this painful subject, as the deeper we go into it, the more offensive it becomes.

AFTER THE PEACE.

After peace negotiations had been settled, the Russians, our late enemies, came into our camp in droves, and we entertained them as friends, regaling them with the best that our stores could produce. The exchange of prisoners had taken place, and some of our men who had been in Russian hands for upwards of twelve months, proved themselves very useful as interpreters. Our old enemies made themselves quite at home, walking about, arm in arm, with the very men they had so often confronted in deadly combat. The French and the Russians, however, did not get on well together; and whenever they were under the influence of drink this was manifest, for they often exchanged blows, and our people had to rush in and separate them. On two or three occasions a party of Russian sergeants, numbering from twelve to twenty, dined with us, and seemed delighted to think we were once more friends. We were repeatedly invited over to their camp to spend a day with them, and our non-commissioned officers and men went in numbers, and were hospitably entertained. On one occasion a wag of a sergeant of ours got up a party of some twenty-five non-commissioned officers (all picked men) from various regiments of the Light Division--not a man under six feet. We obtained permission from our respective commanding officers, met at the place of rendezvous, and away we started. We quietly walked into Sebastopol, crossed the harbour, and were welcomed by a party, who had on more than one occasion dined in our mess. We were taken first to Fort Constantine, and shown all over that noble structure, and from thence to other fortifications. All ranks seemed to vie with each other in showing us attention. The whole of our party had on their breasts the Crimean medal with three clasps, viz., Alma, Inkermann, and Sebastopol, which seemed to afford much attraction to all ranks, and, as far as we could see, the higher in rank the more courteous they were towards us. We all dined together, on the best the camp could afford. The greatest drawback was that we had not a sufficient number of interpreters. After we had dined there was a little speech-making, and many kind things were said, one half of which we did not understand. Our leader proposed the health of their Emperor, which was received with applause, and drunk with three times three, all standing uncovered. After a short time the chief of our hosts proposed the health of Her Most Gracious Majesty, which was drunk with tremendous applause. As we were about to resume our seats, some four or five French sergeants walked in, which seemed to have a very happy effect. After any amount of embracing and kissing, they were requested to take their seats, and make themselves at home. The health of the Emperor Napoleon was now proposed, and responded to in flowing glasses, with cheers that could be heard for a mile. Some two or three Russian officers entered, one of them a very venerable-looking gentleman. He shook hands all round, and embraced one of our party, expressing a hope that we should never again meet as foes, and that those who made the quarrels might do the fighting. A number of our party at once surrounded the old gentleman. He eyed us from head to foot and inquired what Division we belonged to; and when it was explained to him that we all belonged to the Light Division, it seemed to tickle him, for he wanted to know, if we were specimens of the Light, what the Heavies were like--several of our party being considerably over six feet, and stout in proportion. The old gentleman then proposed the health of the Light Division, which was responded to, and drunk with tremendous cheering. After a time he inquired about the regiment that rode grey horses,[12] and what they were, "for," said he, with his eyes flashing, "they are noble fellows, and I should like to embrace one of them." He took but little notice of the French. After embracing some eight or ten of our party (the writer being one of them) he took his leave. He had not been gone more than half-an-hour, when two men brought up a case of brandy from the old general (for that was his rank), with a note requesting that we would drink the Emperor's health, and his also, if we thought him worthy--a request that was, I need not say, at once complied with. Before we parted we found it required no small amount of generalship to keep ourselves sober; for, had we drunk one quarter of what they wanted us to do, we should not have slept with the Light Division that night. As it was, however, we parted with our friends on the best of terms, perfectly sober, they coming down to the water's edge with us; and after much embracing we jumped into our boats, bidding them farewell, and asking them to come and see us whenever they pleased.

Shortly after this we had a review in our camp on a grand scale before Prince Gortschakoff. With French, English, Sardinians, and Turks, we mustered nearly 300,000 men. It took us from morning till late at night to march past. It was a grand sight. As far as the Light Division was concerned we were nearly up to our full strength--not made up with boys, but with men who had been frequently wounded, but had recovered, and returned to their duty--and went by the Prince with trailed arms, at a swinging pace, to the tune of "Ninety-five--I'm Ninety-five." This was one of the greatest military sights that has been beheld during the present century.

THE RUSSIAN PRIEST'S WIFE.

In Russia it is a common mode of expression to say: "As
happy as a priest's wife." The reason why she is so happy is
because her husband's position depends upon her. If she
dies, he is deposed and becomes a layman, and his property
is taken away from him and distributed, half to his children
and half to the Government. This dreadful contingency makes
the Russian priest careful to get a healthy wife if he can,
and to take extraordinary good care of her after he has
secured her. He waits upon her in the most abject way. She
must never get her feet wet, and she is petted and put in
hot blankets if she has so much as a cold in the head. It is
the greatest possible good fortune for a girl to marry a
priest--infinitely better than to be the wife of a noble.

THE ROYAL FUSILIERS.

We will claim for this noble regiment the honour of being second to none--either in the field for its dashing intrepidity, or in quarters for its steady, soldier-like qualities. It is one of the most famous regiments in the British army. It has fought and conquered in all quarters of the globe, and has proved that neither the storms of autumn, the snows of winter, nor the heat of an Indian summer--that neither the sword nor the bayonet, nor musketry fire, can subdue them. Napier might well call them "the astonishing infantry." It has traditions of glory which inspire and maintain that _esprit de corps_ so valuable in the hour of peril--so animating in the crisis of battle. The Royal Fusiliers was raised in June, 1685, as an ordnance regiment, not from any particular county, but from every part of the United Kingdom. Some of the noblest sons of Albion and Erin's Isle have served in its ranks, and the haughtiest sons of Adam's race have had to bow before them, and give up the palm to the matchless Fusiliers.

We find that Lord George Dartmouth was appointed its first colonel; its second was no other than the brave and talented nobleman, the Duke of Marlborough, who made the French to quail before him on field after field. Its third colonel was Lord George Hamilton. And on the 9th of April, 1789, His Royal Highness Prince Edward, Duke of Kent (Her Most Gracious Majesty's father) was appointed its commander. The following pages will show that his Royal Highness was a soldier of no mean sort, and his courage knew no bounds.

In their maiden fight with the French (25th August, 1689) the regiment evinced firmness and intrepidity, for they rolled the enemy up in a masterly style, killing some 2000 of the frog-eaters. King William was well satisfied with the conduct of his Fusiliers. This was the first field, but not the last, on which they well stamped their initials upon the French. On the field of Steenkirk (24th July, 1692) they again confronted the foe, and taught the French to respect our flag. On the field of Landen (19th July, 1693) they again displayed the stern valour of British soldiers. Their loss was heavy, but they proved that they were worth their title, and taught the French such a lesson that they did not forget it for some time to come. In the battles following they proved by their contempt of danger, when the honour of the nation was at stake, that they were determined to overcome all difficulties or perish in the attempt. And, reader, when a fine body of men have so made up their minds, it is better to build a bridge of gold for them to pass over than to try and stop them.

At the siege of Nemur, in 1695, the old corps fought with desperation. The French here got a taste, and a good taste too, of what they were destined to have plenty from this dashing corps, viz., the bayonet. We next find them at Vigo, in 1702, dressing the Spaniards down, and they did it well. In 1703 we find the old regiment afloat, acting with the fleet; but the enemy kept out of their way. Again, we find the Fusiliers defending the deadly breach at Lerida, in 1707, with admirable courage. Once more we find the gallant old regiment afloat, acting as marines. They were in the action with the French fleet on the 20th May, 1756, and proved that they could fight for the honour of old England on the raging billows as well as on land. We next find them, in 1775, defending Quebec, and repulsing the Americans with a terrible slaughter. We also find them on a number of battle fields against the Americans, ever prompt in performing their duty, throughout the unfortunate War of Independence.

The Fusiliers again were in collision with their old hereditary enemy, the French, in March, 1794, at Martinique, commanded by His Royal Highness the Duke of Kent. The old regiment went at the enemy in masterly style. His Royal Highness addressed the storming column as follows: "Grenadiers, this is St. Patrick's Day. The English will do their duty in compliment to the Irish, and the Irish in compliment to the Saint. Forward, Grenadiers!" And away went the Fusiliers. And a number of poor Gauls paid the penalty for opposing such a dashing body of men. During the five years that His Royal Highness was in command of the Fusiliers, no fewer than eight non-commissioned officers were rewarded with commissions, as suitable acknowledgments for meritorious service. His Highness endeared his name to the grateful remembrances of both officers and men.

The Fusiliers were next employed at Copenhagen, in 1807. Napoleon's plans had been frustrated by the destruction of his fleets at the Nile and Trafalgar, by the immortal Nelson, and the Corsican tyrant was determined, if possible, to obtain possession of the Danish fleet to help to carry out his plans. But our Government were not to be caught napping; a strong fleet and a nice little land force was despatched, and demanded the whole of the Danish fleet, by treaty or by force. The brave Danes fought for it, and lost all--"except their honour;" and the Fusiliers returned to England with the victorious fleet.

We will now trace the gallant old Fusiliers through one of the brightest pages in the history of our dear old isle--the Peninsular War. No heavier effort had been made by our army since the days of Marlborough. Our noble Jack Tars had carried all before them, and their gallant deeds resounded throughout the world. All were compelled to admire. But the time was now approaching when the matchless "thin red line" taught Europe to beware; for all the brave sons of Albion and Erin's Isle were not yet afloat. The proud and haughty Imperial Guards had stood as conquerors on field after field, and had polluted every capital in Europe except ours. But the usurper met his match for the first time on a grand scale on the 27th and 28th July, 1809, on the bloody field of Talavera; and the so-called "invincible pets of a tiger" were, so to speak, lifted or pitchforked from the field by this dashing old corps. The old "second-to-none" boys took the conceit out of the haughty legions of Napoleon, and captured seven guns from them; and all the attempts of the enemy to re-take them were in vain. The bayonet was used with terrible effect, and the guns remained in the hands of the Fusiliers. Wellington, with the eye of an eagle, watched the desperate fighting, and thanked the Fusiliers on the field for their conduct.

The next field on which the Fusiliers made the acquaintance of the French was that of Busaco (27th September, 1810)--"Grim Busaco's iron ridge," as Napier, the military historian, terms it. Here the enemy were driven from crag to crag and rock to rock, and the "thin red line" followed them up. All the regiments engaged seemed to take delight in thrashing the invincibility out of the boasting enemy. The grim-faced old veterans had been victorious on the fields of Austerlitz, Jena, Wagram, and Eylan, and had never once been defeated; but they had now met their match, and more than their match, in the "contemptible" sons of Albion. The columns of attack came rushing forward with such impetuosity that it appeared impossible to stop them; but they were all driven back with fearful slaughter, and the Fusiliers had a good hand in the pie. Thus ended the vain boasting of the French that they would drive all the English leopards into the sea. So they would if weight of numbers could have done it; but that nasty piece of cold steel was in the way, and in the hands of men who might die, but who had a strong objection to a watery grave; and at the close of the desperate fight the Fusiliers were one of the regiments that stood triumphant on that grim rocky ridge. About this time the 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers joined the army from America, and the famous Fusilier Brigade was formed, which was destined to shake the bullies of the continent out of their boots, and play "Rule Britannia" on the field. The Fusiliers were engaged in a number of minor affairs about this time. Our conquering commander was determined, after the fall of Ciudad Rodrigo, to wrench Badajoz from the hands of the enemy, and the Fusiliers assembled under its walls. But Marshal Soult was not asleep, and a strong army under that crafty commander flew to the rescue of the brave General Phillipon, and Marshal Beresford was compelled to raise the siege, and retire to the heights of Albuera--a name that shortly afterwards resounded from one end of Europe to the other. Again we would repeat, the fame of the mere handful of Fusiliers echoed throughout the civilized world, and Europe stood amazed at their doings. Lo! the Fusiliers had in a desperate struggle routed a host--an entire army--of the proudest and haughtiest sons of Adam's race from the blood-stained heights of Albuera. They rushed upon the enemy with vehement courage; bayonet crossed bayonet; sword clashed against sword. Backwards and forwards rolled the eddying fight. The din was terrible, the carnage awful. But in the end, although the Marshal of France did all he could to encourage and animate his countrymen, they had to yield to the Fusiliers. The conduct of the Fusilier Brigade on this field was the admiration of both friend and foe. "Gallantry," says one of the bravest of the brave (Lord Hardinge) "is hardly a name for it. In this terrible charge, which swept the veterans of France from the field, the Fusiliers lost 638 men, 34 sergeants, and 32 officers. It was here Sir William Myers fell, and no man died that day with more glory, yet many died; and there was much glory." Happy the nation which can find such true-hearted men to meet the foe. But the remainder stood triumphant on that fatal hill (see p. 434). The list of killed and wounded proclaim with dreadful eloquence the sanguinary character of the contest the Fusiliers had just decided. Decided what? A doubtful field? No; but won back a lost field, and once more fastened victory to our glorious old standard. The word "Fusilier" after this was almost enough for a Frenchman's breakfast. We again find the old regiment advancing with rapid steps to assist their hard-pressed comrades, the 5th Fusiliers, on the field of El Bodón (see p. 436). And on this occasion the determined appearance of the Fusilier Brigade was enough. They stopped the pursuit of the boasting steel-clad squadrons of France. Again, at Aldea de Pont, the dear old corps charged the enemy with such vehemence as to drive them from the field. And now we retrace our steps to Badajoz. After no end of hardships in the trenches, the hour of assault draws near. Everything that could be thought of was done to repel an assault. It was known that the enterprise was a desperate one; powder-barrels and live shells by hundreds were embedded in the earth just at the foot of the deadly breach, all ready for an explosion. A large _chevaux-de-frise_ was placed across the breach, and at the bottom of the ditch long planks with spikes, bayonets, and sword-blades fastened into them, and pointing upwards, ready for our poor fellows to jump upon. The Fusiliers led the way at the deadly breach of Trinidad with heroic valour. The fires of hell seemed to have broken upon them to destroy the old regiment. With a tremendous cheer, however, they mounted the deadly breach, only to fall back into the ditch below. Others then rushed up, nothing daunted, to be hurled back upon their comrades. The enemy fought with desperation. More men pressed forward while the dying and wounded were struggling in the ditch. At other places the ladders were too short, while, to add to the horror of the scene, a mine was sprung. But the Fusiliers never quailed. At length an entrance was forced, and in a short time Badajoz was at the conqueror's feet. But, alas! five thousand poor fellows lay in front of those deadly breaches. The loss to the Fusiliers was heavy--18 officers, 14 sergeants, and 200 men.

After a number of minor combats, in all of which they came off victorious, we trace the old corps to the field of Salamanca. The enemy were taught a short but sharp lesson on this field. The Fusiliers were in the thick of it, but they were determined to maintain the honour of the corps, and, with cheer after cheer, they rushed at the enemy with levelled steel. Here again their loss was heavy--12 officers, 8 sergeants, and 199 men; but the remainder stood as conquerors. Then, after a lot of marching and counter-marching, we again find the old regiment on the field of Vittoria. On this field they had the post of honour, and were the admiration of all except the foe. It was here that the French lost all, including their honour. It was a most decisive victory for the English.

We now trace the Fusiliers to the sanguinary battles of the Pyrenees, where, with rapid and headlong charges, and with shouts of victory, they stormed position after position which appeared almost impregnable, hurling the enemy down the mountain sides. The old regiment, side by side with the 20th, 23rd Welsh Fusiliers, and the 40th, fought valiantly. As the ranks of conquering bayonets rushed at them, the shock of cold steel was too much for Napoleon's spoilt invincibles. Each column was met in mid-onset, and forced back with great slaughter. Four times the Fusiliers precipitated themselves on a host of fresh opponents, and in each case proved victorious. Here our Commander again thanked the men on the spot, and in his despatch to the Government expressed his admiration of the deeds of the gallant old Fusiliers; for his Grace openly affirmed that the Royal Fusiliers had surpassed all former good conduct, and that the valour of the Fusiliers had won his approbation. His Grace might well say, "With British soldiers I will go anywhere and do anything." The loss of the old regiment was heavy, being 11 officers, 14 sergeants, and 188 men; but they inflicted a terrible loss upon the enemy. They had been forced from ten strong mountain positions, and all had been carried with the queen of weapons--the bayonet. The passage of the Bidassra followed. Then the enemy's army was driven from a strong position on the Neville. The gallant regiment now stood triumphant, firmly established on the "sacred soil" of France. Retribution had overtaken guilty, haughty, insulting France. The tyrant Napoleon had hurled the thunderbolts of war against the nations of Europe. The whole of the sovereigns of the continent had been on their knees before this tyrannical usurper, but he now saw them attack him with fury. The enemy took up a formidable position at Orthes, but no advantage of position could stop our victorious army. Marshal Soult (Napoleon's pet General) here got a sound drubbing.

The old Fusiliers are again side by side with the Royal Welsh, well to the front, for our victorious General opened the ball with them. The enemy were beaten at all points, and routed from the field. After a number of minor engagements, in all of which they were victorious, we come to the closing scene--the field of Toulouse. But Dame Fortune would not smile upon the French eagle, for the enemy got another sound beating, and had to retire from the field, leaving it in the hands of the conquering sons of Albion. Thus the Fusiliers had carried our triumphant standard from victory to victory. We pass from one brilliant deed to another with almost breathless rapidity. The succession of victories had dazzled the whole of Europe, who stood amazed at the gallant deeds of the "astonishing infantry." Peace was now declared, and the Fusiliers returned home, after an absence of nearly seven long years of toil and triumph. We need hardly say that they got a worthy reception, being greeted with hearty cheers from crowds of their fellow countrymen. They had frequently been acknowledged to be a most brilliant, heroic, and dashing body of men by those who were competent judges. Their conduct had often been the admiration of all, for where all were brave, they were acknowledged to be "the bravest of the brave."

The Fusiliers' stay at home was of short duration. Our big cousins across the Atlantic, thinking our hands were full, must "kick up a row" with us; so the Fusiliers were despatched to teach them better behaviour. After a number of engagements with our kinsmen, with but little honour on their part (and it is not at all pleasant to thrash one's own flesh and blood), peace was patched up, and the Fusiliers returned home; for the disturber of the world was again in the field, and on the red field of Waterloo. The conqueror of nations, backed by an army of old and grim veterans, threw down the gauntlet at the feet of our conquering chief, Wellington, and the bright dream of the "hundred days" was rudely dissipated. But the old Fusiliers this time were not in it; they landed at Ostend on the day of the battle, and pushed on rapidly, but all was over with Napoleon before they reached the field. They marched on into France with the victorious army, and remained with the Army of Occupation until 1818. A long period of peace and tranquility followed. Europe had had enough of war. And the old Fusiliers, as the sequel of this book will show, nobly maintained, on the heights of Alma, and Inkermann, and throughout the siege of Sebastopol, the reputation acquired by their forefathers. Lord Raglan knew well what he was about when he selected the Royal Fusiliers, together with the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, to lead the way at the Alma. The two old regiments had often been shoulder to shoulder; and his lordship on this field was not disappointed, for they urged each other on to desperate deeds of valour. Up they went, forcing back a huge column of the enemy, until they gained the blood-stained heights, and then stood triumphant. And repeatedly during that trying campaign the Royal Fusiliers led the way. Since then the mutineers could not say that the Fusiliers were napping when wanted; and I am confident that their countrymen are well satisfied with their conduct in the Afghan campaigns of 1863 and the late go-in at Candahar; and that the honour of our dear old flag may still with safety be left in the hands of the ROYAL FUSILIERS.

Their mettle has been well proved on the following fields:--Walcourt, Steenkirk, Landen, Namur, Cadiz, Rota, Vigo, Lindau, Minorca, Quebec, Satur, Montgomery, Clinton, Philadelphia, Newhaven, Charlestown, Cowpens, Copenhagen, Martingal, Oporto, Talavera, Busaco, Olivenze, Albuera, Aldea de Pont, Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca, Montevite, Vittoria, Pampeluna, Pyrenees, Bidassra, Orthes, Toulouse, New Orleans, Fort Bowyer, Alma, Inkermann, throughout the siege of Sebastopol, India (1857-8-9), Lalo, Umbeyla Pass, and Candahar (1880). Their valour was displayed on the heights of Alma and Inkermann in a manner most heroic. Multiplied and almost unheard-of proofs were given, I do not say merely of courage, but of devotion to their country, quite extraordinary and sublime.

The following are a few of the "Second to None" boys who have been presented by Her Most Gracious Majesty with that priceless decoration,

THE VICTORIA CROSS.

Lieut. H. M. Jones, 1st.
Lieut. W. Hope, 2nd.
Ass.-Surgeon T. E. Hale, 3rd.
Private W. Norman, 4th.
Private M. Hughes, 5th.

And during the Afghan campaign, at a sortie from Candahar, Private James Ashford won the cross by carrying wounded comrades from the field under a most tremendous fire, after all the troops had re-entered the fortress.

The Fusiliers have, as the records prove, been largely recruited from Norfolk, Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, Yorkshire, and Lancashire, with a good sprinkling of the boys of the Green Isle.

We will now bid farewell to the Royal Fusiliers, or "second to none" boys, wishing them "God speed."

THE VICTORIA CROSS.

"Worth! What is a ribbon worth to a soldier?
Worth! Everything! Glory is priceless!"

"Every village has its hero,
And every fire-side its story."

SEVENTH ROYAL FUSILIERS.

Lieutenant HENRY MITCHELL JONES (afterwards Captain in the
regiment; retired 28th August, 1857).--Date of act of
bravery, 7th June, 1855.--For having distinguished himself
while serving with the party which stormed and took the
Quarries before Sebastopol, by repeatedly leading on his men
to repel the continual assaults of the enemy during the
night. Although wounded early in the evening, Captain Jones
remained unflinchingly at his post until after daylight the
following morning.

Lieutenant WILLIAM HOPE (retired 3rd March, 1857).--Date of
act of bravery, 18th June, 1855.--After the troops had
retreated on the morning of the 18th of June, 1855,
Lieutenant W. Hope, being informed by the late
Sergeant-Major William Bacon, who was himself wounded, that
Lieutenant and Adjutant Hobson was lying outside the
trenches, badly wounded, went out to look for him, and found
him lying in an old agricultural ditch running towards the
left flank of the Redan. He then returned and got four men
to bring him in. Finding, however, that Lieutenant Hobson
could not be removed without a stretcher, he then ran back
across the open to Egerton's Pit, where he procured one, and
carried it to where Lieutenant Hobson was lying. All this
was done under a very heavy fire from the Russian batteries.

Assistant-Surgeon THOMAS E. HALE, M.D.--Date of act of
bravery, 8th September, 1855.--1st. For remaining with an
officer who was dangerously wounded, Capt. H. M. Jones, 7th
Fusiliers, in the fifth parallel, on the 8th September,
1855, when all the men in the immediate neighbourhood
retreated, excepting Lieutenant W. Hope and Dr. Hale; and
for endeavouring to rally the men in conjunction with
Lieutenant W. Hope, 7th Royal Fusiliers.--2nd. For having,
on the 8th September, 1855, after the regiments had retired
into the trenches, cleared the most advanced sap of the
wounded, and carried into the sap, under a heavy fire,
several wounded men from the open ground, being assisted by
Sergeant Charles Fisher, 7th Royal Fusiliers.