Viscount Chewton (from the Hastings News) - A Soldier's Appeal (from the St. Leonards Penny Press)
MEMOIR OF VISCOUNT CHEWTON
SCOTS FUSILIER GUARDS.
[Communicated.]
The late Viscount Chewton was born at Cardington, in Bedfordshire, June 29, 1816. His father, at that time the Hon. William Waldegrave, had married the eldest daughter of Samuel Whitbread, Esq., M.P., by the Lady Elizabeth Grey, sister to the second Earl Grey. William Frederick, their eldest son, early showed an inclination for active, stirring life; and when his father was appointed to the command of His Majesty’s frigate, the Seringapatam, he was removed from the school of the Rev. Dr. Mayo, of Cheam, where he and his brothers were educated, and entered the Royal Navy; and now commenced a career of adventure which has, perhaps, been seldom equalled. The Seringapatam was sent first of all to the South American station; and afterwards on a voyage of inquiry into the religious and moral state of the South Sea Islands, which, at that time, were emerging out of heathenism, after many years of indefatigable labour by the missionaries of the London Missionary Society. Easter Island was visited February 18, 1830; Pitcairn’s Island, March 7; the Marquesas, March 23; Nooaheevah, March 27; Otaheite, April 7; Huaheine, April 30, &c.; and on July 26, the ship anchored in Callao Roads. In the visits paid sometimes to savage and at other times to half civilised islands, the little midshipman shewed an aptitude for the language of signs, which procured for him many coveted articles in barter, which others found it impossible to obtain; and on one occasion, he was detained a whole night by the savage chief of Vavao, as a hostage for the good faith of the captain. His health, at this time, suffered so much from the climate and mosquitoes, that it was thought advisable that he should relinquish the profession on which he had entered, and he was sent home in the ill-fated Thetis, which was wrecked off Cape Frio; he escaped out of his hammock in his night-shirt—losing all his own things, and the curiosities which had been collected with much industry — the voyage of the Seringapatam. The crew of the Thetis had much to suffer from the hostility of the natives of that part of Brazil; but young Waldegrave, by his dexterity, often contrived to cater for himself and his suffering shipmates.
On his return to England, he endeavoured to settle himself down to a studious life, and even entered at Cambridge; but nature was too strong for resolution, and, with the consent of his parents, he sailed on the 20th of June, 1837, for Canada, intending to settle in that country. He purchased land, and proceeded to clear and stock it, when the Canadian Rebellion broke out, and he joined at once the Royal Beauharnais Volunteers.
This independent troop did such good service, that on a regular Regiment of Canadian Rifles being raised in the colonies, an Ensigncy dated July 18, 1841, without purchase, was given to the Troop-Lieutenant. The shanty was entirely abandoned, and after serving for two years, a Lieutenancy was obtained by purchase and exchange into the 3rd Buffs, August 25, 1843, and he returned to England with the charge of troops. After a few months’ residence with his family he was ordered to join his regiment in India, and appointed to convey troops and convicts to Van Diemen’s Land. After a run of 91 days, in the course of which he touched at the Cape of Good Hope, and went as far into the country as a two days anchorage there would admit, he landed his troops at Hobart Town, and then pursued his voyage to Calcutta.
He landed in India to find himself transferred to the 53rd Regiment, then beginning its term of service by relieving the 8rd Buffs. The 58rd was soon appointed to form part of the army of the Sutlej, and was in the division under the command of Sir John Grey. Lieutenant Waldegrave was ordered to bring up an ammunition train to the army, which occupied some time, and he arrived in time to see the battle of Aliwal won.
He took an active part in the battle of Sobraon, fought on the 10th of February, 1846, of which he wrote home the following account :—
"I should have been with the regiment at the glorious victory of Aliwal, but I was then commanding the escort bringing up ammunition, which I did safely, with the loss of only one man wounded (by his own gun). I found the 53rd encamped on the field of battle on the 1st, and I believe have got some kudos for my march with the ammunition. On the morning of the 10th, the 53rd marched, at four o’clock, along the front of the camp, till we came to a village which had been surprised by the 62nd about an hour before. Here we halted for some time, and then, resuming our former direction, we found ourselves, just at daylight, in a dry nullah, about half a mile from the extreme right of the Sikh camp, and on our own extreme left. Here we halted under cover, with the 59th Native Infantry next us, the 10th and 80th Queen’s with us also.
Here we breakfasted. At half-past nine the word was given, and we started straight for the batteries in very good order, but over very heavy sand; but now the nine-pounder battery began to crash through our ranks. A ball came close to me, and, knocking over a man, who fell on me, I went down, when another shot struck the ground close to my head and covered me with dirt; but before I could get up again I was seized by several of my company, who imagined I was shot, but they soon left me. We were now ordered to double, when still a long way from the batteries, and we ran till we were quite done up with the heat. I was perfectly exhausted, when the Serjeant-Major came up to me and gave me a drink out of his bottle, taking one himself also. This quite refreshed me, although still out of breath, and we had just got into range for their grape, and fearfully it told. Their cavalry came out of the trenches, and some one ordered us to form square. The Colonel tried to prevent it, and only one wing formed square; but this threw us into confusion, and we had to retire about 100 yards, when we deployed into line again, and this, giving us breathing time, we ran on again, and this time into the trenches; and then began a scene which I never shall forget ; but I was so excited that I hardly can clearly relate it. The Sikhs were retiring in large columns, about fifty yards from us, our musketry playing havoc into them, but they would not, when wounded, surrender, and, if passed, shot any of our poor fellows they saw near them, and this caused us to kill every man that we saw lying on the ground.
I tried to persuade a very fine man, who lay on the ground, to surrender; he refused, and I closed with him and got his sword out of his hand, and was just running him through, when one of my company shot him, and when we turned him over we found that he had a pistol behind him, and that he had been untouched, and was no doubt intending to shoot some one as soon as he could find an opportunity. Others would rush forward sword in hand to attack us, but few of them reached us alive. We had now driven them down to the ford, and as the artillery had destroyed their bridges this was the only passage left. and here was a fearful slaughter. We had nearly 15,000 muskets playing away on them, and the only idea you can form of it is to imagine the passage of the Borodino on the retreat from Moscow. Their men really retired beautifully. The Spanish engineer officer marched one battalion down to the ford with their arms crossed, and then carried arms and walked into the river as if on parade. He was shot soon after, and a very good thing for us, as he was a very talented man, and one of the few Europeans still in their army. I had a race for a gun with some of our Grenadiers, but some Sepoys got to it first, and thus ended the fiercest battle that had been ever fought in India with a disciplined enemy, but our loss has been very severe. We march to-morrow for Lahore in triumph, and hope to be at one of the hill stations in about three weeks.”
Viscount Chewton received two medals for this campaign. At the end of this year his father became the Earl of Waldegrave, without succeeding to any more substantial inheritance from his predecessor. Viscount Chewton again returned to his native country, and being anxious to advance in the army, he once more crossed the Atlantic, and served for a short time in a West Indian regiment at Surinam, when he purchased his company in the 6th Foot, on the 13th of August, 1847, and joined the depot in Ireland, at Fermoy, he himself being stationed principally at Dungarvan. Soon after he was gazetted to the Scots Fusilier Guards, and his family fondly hoped his wanderings had now ceased, and that the experience and information he had acquired in his long and diversified service in all parts of the world, would bear good fruit at home.
In 1850 he married Miss Bastard, the sister of Captain William B. Bastard, with whom he had served in the 53rd in India. Three short years of happiness followed, which were terminated by the war in the East, and on the 27th of June, 1854, Lord Chewton sailed in the screw steam troop-ship Vulcan, for Varna On his arrival there he had an attack of illness, but in a few days completely recovered, and enjoyed his usually robust health up to the fatal day of Alma.
We believe that our readers will thank us for giving a rather detailed account of the part the gallant nobleman took in that glorious battle, where he was noted for his “tremendous bravery;” and there is some danger that in the hurry of subsequent events, the fallen, who have as much won the victory as those who survive to wear the laurel, may be forgotten.
We have lately seen his soldier servant, who gives us the following account of the early part of the day. On their march across the plains, a small ball rolled along the ground, and the ranks of the Scots Fusiliers opened to let it pass, but one man close to Lord Chewton, thinking to stop it, put his foot upon it, it was a shell, and in an instant, he was blown high up into the air into atoms, in which none could recognize the remains of a human being! They proceeded, and Lord Chewton crossed the Alma where it proved to be deep, and a steep bank rose before them, but he would not turn, and by the assistance of his servant pushing him up, he contrived to scale it, his man then ran back, and by crossing the river, and recrossing it at a shallow place thirty yards higher up, and climbing the bank where the sappers and miners had made it easily accessible, rejoined his master, whom he found already wounded in the fleshy part of the right thigh. His Lordship tied a handkerchief round his leg, and took a drink of water from his man, who observed “You had better stay here a few minutes, my Lord.“ He replied “This is no time to wait, it will soon be over,“ and proceeded at the head of the company up the hill. The servant was almost immediately after struck down by a ball on the knee, and of course knows nothing more, but we believe that we are correct in stating the following as the order of events. The Guards were advancing up the hill to the support of the 23rd Foot, then engaged in a desperate struggle for the redoubt which defended the mountain pass to Sebastopol; they had already planted their colors there, but the contention was so fierce, that they were unable to retain possession, and were ordered to fall back to save the remains of the regiment. In doing this they shook, for a few minutes, the ranks of the Scots Fusilier Guards, and we believe it was as much Lord Chewton’s bravery as any other cause which at this critical moment gave the impetus that won the day. He took off his bearskin cap, and waving it on the point of his sword in the air cried out “Come on, my lads, we'll beat them and gain the battle.” The men rallied round him, and rushed on, and Lord Chewton fell within fifty yards of the redoubt, his left leg being broken by three minie balls just above the knee. Of his brother officers eleven out of thirteen had been marked down and wounded by the enemy’s rifles while maintaining their ground ; happily most of them escaped the horrors which followed from the unknown and unsuspected ferocity of the savage enemy, but Colonel Haygarth, who is recovering suffered severely from their brutality, while Lord Chewton’s powerful frame (which lay next him) became a target for the enemy's fire. We are told that he was seen engaged in a hand to hand encounter with three Russians at once—that one beat him so severely on the head with the butt end of his musket, that but for his bearskin he must have been killed before a Russian officer could interfere (as he did) to prevent it, that he was seen to hold out his watch to bribe a wounded Russian who was taking deliberate aim at him to leave him alone, but the wretch shook his head, and fired, and gave him his death wound in the groin - that after that, another (who met his due reward from the corporal who relates this anecdote in a private letter to his father) "put a shot thro’ his shoulder blade,“ which also mutilated his right hand.
Suffice it to say that when he was removed to the temporary hospital by the river side, he was found to be wounded by a gunshot or bayonet in every part of his body except the left hand and arm, and he suffered immediate amputation of the thumb of the right hand. The next day he was conveyed by Captain King to the ship that he was then commanding, the Leander, where he remained two days till a transport was ready to sail for Scutari. From the first moment he never deceived himself by false hopes about the issue ; but so great was his cheerfulness that he concealed from his brother officers sufferings which the surgeons characterise as dreadful, and led them to entertain confident expectations of his “getting over it.” But he was prepared to meet death, and as a Christian man should be, so that when informed by the chaplain, the Rev. J. E. Sabin, whose ministrations had been his greatest comfort, that he had but a few hours more to live, he received the information almost joyfully ; but, when he recollected his wife and child and his aged father, he was overcome, and the strong man wept. He sent for his brother officers, and assuring them he was not afraid to die, he took leave of them all with the same cheerful air he had always maintained, and particularly thanked his medical attendants for all their kindness to him.
He had already made all his worldly arrangements, and provided some recompense for his soldier servants; and now, having received the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper for the second time since he had done so with Lord Raglan and the rest of the officers at Varna, he fell into an untroubled sleep, and his spirit passed away so gently that the last breath was scarcely perceptible on the morning of the 8th of October, 1854, He was buried, by express desire, in the burying-ground at Scutari among the officers and men. By his marriage he had three children, two sons and a daughter. His eldest boy, William Frederick, now Viscount Chewton, was born on the 2nd of March, 1851; the second, Henry Noel was born six days after his father’s death, but before that event was known in England — the daughter lived only a few months.
It is gratifying to state that Her Majesty the Queen, in that true and heartfelt sympathy which she has always manifested for her brave soldiers, has had conveyed to the sorrowing father and family of the subject of our memoir, Her condolence, as well as that of His Royal Highness Prince Albert; on the heavy loss which they, and she, and Her army have sustained in the death of Viscount Chewton. Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, our Ambassador at the Court of Constantinople, has also recently written to the Earl of Waldegrave, stating that the Sultan of Turkey had expressed his intention of conferring the high order of Nishin Medjidge on Viscount Chewton, had Providence been pleased to spare his lordsbip’s life. We need hardly say that the insignia diploma of this order are but rarely conferred upon Christians, and only in cases of most distinguished bravery and services.
- "Hastings News"
The Soldier's Appeal
Suggested by the Battle of Alma.
Behold a man in uniform appears,
Beneath whose brow, descends a flood of tears,
Whose pallid countenance now dull and sad,
Not long ago, was smiling, bright and glad.
Whose sterner feelings for awhile relax,
And soften into those of gentler sex:
See, now, his grief appears beyond controul!
What means this change,—why pours he out his soul ?
A summons bids him leave native land,
To join that noble Anglo-Gallic band
Now on its way to strike a mighty blow
’Gainst Russia’s despot—freedom's deadliest foe.
Dreads he to shed his blood,—exhaust his breath?
Fears he to meet the enemy, or death?
Go, ask the question, and he’ll answer “ No !’*
“That’s not the cause of my apparent woe.”
He loves his sea-girt isle with all his heart,
And, when stern duty bids him do his part,
He’ll not be wanting, but with sword in hand,
He'll e’en be ready at the first command.
But who, when he’s engaged in battle strife
Will deign to care for his poor hapless wife—
The friend of all on earth to him most dear?
Say, who will then her dreary prospects cheer.
There sits the once proud shearer of his joys,
Around her stand two little weeping boys;
While on her breast a lisping infant lies,
On which she gazes with her tear-wet eyes.
Deep sighs escape, and parting tears are shed,
With broken accent, last fond words are said;
From their embrace the soldier steals away,
When next they’ll meet, no tongue on earth can say.
On board a gallant barque, with hundreds more,
He takes a last long look of Britain’s shore ;
Till out of sight, their onward course they keep
Ploughing by day and night the briny deep.
Soon Russia’s coast,—the seat of war they reach,
All hands are piped; they spring upon the beach;
When, quick as thought this patriotic band
Their deadly weapons grasp with giant hand.
See, see, they march! the enemy’s in sight,
Onward they rush—all eager for the fight.
For gallant deeds our hero’s heart is steel’d,
No mean assailant on the battle field.
With dauntless courage, see, he meets the foe,
And Russians, one, two, three, are soon laid low,
Still onward! onward! is the battle cry,
While bullets whiz, and blazing rockets fly.
Anon, while in the thickest of the strife,
He, midst o’erpowering numbers risks his life;
With dext’rous skill he parries many a thrust
And in return makes many bite the dust.
But, see, the swift wing’d messenger of death
Our hero meets! he staggers,—gasps for breath ;
He swoons, he falls, and now behold him lie
Surrounded by a flood of crimson die.
The battle’s o’er, the victory is won,
Each valiant hand its share of work has done,
The vanquished foe retires with hasty tread,
And leaves behind, the dying and the dad.
Now, for a few brief moments, reason takes
Her wonted seat, our valiant ones awakes
To stern reality, and views with pain,
The hideous forms of those in conflict slain,
With wild despair his searching eye doth roam
For wife, and children,—dear ones left at home;
Tis vain! no wife, no child, no friend appears,
He sinks, exhausted, bathed in blood au: tears,
The sable night steals on, and frightful groans
Assail the ear, and yet with plaintive tones
In attitude of prayer our friend is found,
Though blood still oozes from hig mortal wound.
“Perchance a comrade still survives this strife,
May Heaven direct him to my anxious wife,
And tell her, though a victim here I fell,
And booming cannon sounded forth my knell,
Yet, while, a drop of blood did still remain,
Within my aching, poisoned, punctured vein,
I offered up to God a fervent prayer,
That He my children and my Wife would spare.
That He a widow’s sorrow would relieve,
And on each child, a parent’s blessing breathe,
And urge my country, for whose cause I die
To (in my stead,) my loved-ones’ wants supply.”— R. M.
London Road, St. Leonards.
St. Leonards Penny Press
[The above lines were revised by the Editor, as requested by the author]
