CHEATED OF GLORY

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIV, Issue V, 3 February 1900, Page 216

CHEATED OF GLORY

GENERALS who have fallen in THE MOMENT OF VICTORY. The death of Sir William Penn Symons unhappily adds another name to the illustrious roll of leaders who have fallen in the moment of victory. Some of the most distinguished of these may be briefly mentioned here. John Graham, of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, who led the Jawbite Highlanders against the forces of William the Third, at Killiecrankie, received his death wound as he was waving on his cavalry to charge the broken English regiments. A bullet struck him beneath the cuirass; as he fell from his saddle a soldier named Johnstone caught him in his arms. “How goes the day?" said the dying hero. “Well for King James,” answered the soldier, “but I am sorry for your lordship.” “If it goes well with him it matters the less for me,” said Dundee, and they were the last words he ever spoke. James Wolfe, the hero of Quebec, was another notable instance of a leader falling in the hour if his triumph. On the night of September 12th, 1759, he. with five thousand men. silently descended the St. Lawrence in boats, sealed the heights of Abraham in the darkness (a feat which has had few parallels in war), drew up his forces on the plains above, and forced Montcalm, the French General, to give battle. While leading a charge of Grenadiers Wolfe had one of his wrists shattered by a shot, but wrapping a handkerchief round it he kept on. Another shot struck him, but he still advanced, when a third lodged in his breast. He fell down in a. swoon. As he returned to consciousness, he heard someone near him exclaim: “They run; see how they run!” “Who run?” asked Wolfe eagerly. “The enemy; they' give way everywhere!” was the reply. With a sigh of relief, the dying General turned on his side and, murmuring “Now God be praised. 1 will die in peace,” breathed his last. His gallant rival, the French General, Montcalm, was also mortally wounded, and only survived Wolfe by a few hours. Sir Ralph Abercromby purchased the glory of his great- victory over the French at Alexandria on March 21st. ISO], at the cost of his life. Ever reckless in his contempt of danger, he was riding in front of his men when a musket bullet struck him in the thigh. "What have you placed under my head?" asked the wounded General, as they laid him down on the field of battle. “Only a soldier’s blanket." was the a ns wer. "Only a soldier’s blanket!" said Abercromby irritably, "make haste and return it to him at once." He died on board Nelson’s flagship, the Foudroyant (recently broken up at Blackpool), to which he had been removed. but he lived long enough to know that his victory had been complete. and that he had once and for all shattered Napoleon’s dream of the Conquest of Egypt. Sir John Moore, whom Lord Wolseley consideis to have been a greater soldier than Wellington, fell at the moment when he had crowned a masterly retreat with a brilliant victory. He was watching the troops which he had so skilfully withdrawn in the face of overwhelming odds, as they drote back the French from Corunna. when a cannon shot struck him on the left breast, hurling him from his horse and so mangling him that he knew his end was come. Whilst the surgeon tended him he repeatedly asked if the French were beaten, and when at last he was assured that they were, he exclaimed: "It is a great satisfaction to me to know that." Then, turning to his old friend. Colonel Anderson, he said: "You know I always wished to die this way. I hope the people of England will l»e satisfied! 1 hope my country will do me justice!" Those I were his last words; a few moments later he died, and every sehoollxtv knows the immortal verses in which his burial has been celebrated. The successful assault of Ciudail Rodrigo, one of the most brilliant feats of arms in the Peninsula War. was led by Genend Robert Crnufurd, who commanded the Light Division, a num of fiery temper and a discipli-

uarian of the sternest type, but one whom his men would follow anywhere.

"Soldiers,” he said as he formed them for the attack, "the eyes of your country are upon you. Be steady; be cool; be firm in the assault. The town must be yours this night!” A few minutes later the signal for the assault was given. "Now, lads, for the breach!" cried Craufurd as, sword in hand, he sprang forward at the head of his men; he was half way up the breach when a bulleit struck him and he fell back mortally wounded. But his gallant Division rushed on. stormed the ramparts, and terribly avenged his death. He was 'buried the next day on the s|x>t where he had so gloriously fallen, and even the eyes of the Iron Duke himself were moist as he saw his heroic colleague laid to his last rest, whilst many of the veterans of the Light. D’vision, who had loved and fought with the dead hero, cried like children.

It was in leading the successful charge which utterly broke the French cavalry at Quatre Bras that Sir Thomas Pieton (the famous “F'ghting Picton”) received a ball which smashed his ribs. But he kept the knowledge of his serious hurt from all but his body-servant. On the morning of Waterloo the wound had liegun to mortify, but. Pieton paid no heed to it. 'He placed himself at the head of his 'brigade, and. waving them on with his sword, cried: "Charge! Hurrah! Hurrah!” At that moment a ball pierced his skull and he dropped dead from his saddle, as his men swept on to victory. He lies buried in the cry pt of St. Paul’s, side by side with Nelson and Wellington. The most dashing and brilliant soldier that the Indian Mutiny brought to light was, without doubt, John Nicholson. ■ “If ever there is a desperate deed to be. done in India.” said Sir Herbert Edwardes, "John Nichol-

son is the man to do it." And never was tber ■ a more desperate deed to be done than the storming of Delhi. It the face of an appalling fire. Nicholson Jed his column through the - al-row streets. after the ramnarts had been carr’ed. Officers and men were falling .fast. .Staggered by the awful carnage, the. men halted and wavered. Then John Nicholson sprang forward. sword in hand, to cheer them op. His voice of thunder rallied them in an instant, but. his grand, colossal tigijce was too easy an object to be missed. A Sepoy took depberate aim at him from a window, and John Nicholson fell with a bullet through his chest. But he lived long enough to know that the great work which he had sei himself to do was accomplished —that Delhi was taken and the mutinv shattered -at its head.

The list given hen- might, no doubt, be largely increased, but only one na.nt" need be added to round off the noble roll —the name of Horatio Nelson. Everyone knows that story, and then are. perhaps, no words ever uttered by a dying hero that have stirred Brit’sih hearts more deeply than the simple "Thank Gori. I have done my duty.” with which passed away the spirit of the greatest seaking the world has ever seen.